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diff --git a/old/50499-0.txt b/old/50499-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6c01172..0000000 --- a/old/50499-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10034 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vanishing Point, by Coningsby Dawson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Vanishing Point - -Author: Coningsby Dawson - -Illustrator: James Montgomery Flagg - -Release Date: November 19, 2015 [EBook #50499] -Last Updated: March 12, 2018 - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VANISHING POINT *** - - - - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - - - - - - -THE VANISHING POINT - -By Coningsby Dawson - -Author of “The Kingdom Round the Corner,” - -“The Garden Without Walls,” etc. - -Illustrated By James Montgomery Flagg - -New York - -MCMXXII - -Copyright, 1922, by Cosmopolitan Book Corporation - - - -[Illustration: 0001] - - -[Illustration: 0008] - - -[Illustration: 0009] - - -“When you gaze up a railroad track,” said Varensky, “there's always -a point in the infinite distance where, just before they vanish, the -parallel rails seem, to join. If a train were ever to reach that point -it would mean death. - -“Life's like that--a track along which we travel on the parallel rails -of possibility and desire. The lure of the idealist is to overtake the -illusion, where possibility and desire seem to merge, and the safety of -the journey ends.” - - - - -THE VANISHING POINT - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIRST--THE DISAPPEARANCE OF A PATRIOT - - -I - - -PRINCE ROGOVICH! Prince Rogovich!” - -Staring up at the clammy wall of the liner, blanched by searchlights, -against which the little tug bumped and jostled, Philip Hindwood could -hear the Prince's name being shouted in staterooms, along decks and -passageways. - -It had been midnight when they had drifted like a gallivanting hotel, -all portholes ablaze, into the starlit vagueness of Plymouth Harbor. The -_Ryndam_ did not dock there; she only halted long enough to put off the -English passengers and to drop the English mail. There had been three -passengers to land, of whom Hindwood had been the first; the rest were -disembarking at Boulogne or Rotterdam. They had been met just outside -the harbor by the tug, and the transshipping of the mail had immediately -commenced. The last bag had been tossed over the side; the immigration -officials had completed their inspection. Santa Gorlof, the second -passenger for England, radiantly smiling above her sables, had come down -the gangplank. It was for the third passenger that the liner delayed and -the tug still waited. - -“Prince Rogovich! Prince Rogovich!” - -The cries were becoming more insistent and impatient. They broke on the -stillness with the monotony of despair. To judge by the sound, every -soul aboard the liner had taken up the search, from the firemen in the -stoke-hole to the Marconi men on the top deck. Even the thud of the -engines seemed ominous, like the pounding of a heart stifled with -foreboding. Across the velvety expanse of water, as though they had -a secret they were trying to communicate, shore lights winked and -twinkled. They seemed to be signaling the information that, no matter -how long the search was maintained, Prince Rogovich would not be found -that night. - - -II - - -Except for this last disturbing incident, it had been a pleasant -voyage--the most pleasant Philip Hindwood could remember. They had left -New York in the brilliant clearness of blue September skies. The clear -blueness had followed them. The slow-going, matronly _Ryndam_ had -steamed on an even keel through seas as tranquil and reflective as the -proverbial mill-pond. Her company had been dull, consisting mainly of -American drummers and Dutch Colonials returning from Java. But he had no -grounds for complaint; he had chosen her for her dullness. He had wanted -to lay up a store of rest before plunging into the strenuous excitements -which were the purpose of his journey. - -He had gone aboard her in an unsociable frame of mind, determined to -talk to nobody; the success of his errand depended on his silence. He -believed that he was half a year ahead of the times. When his rivals had -caught up to where he was at present, he would have made himself a world -power and dictator. - -But the dullness of the ship's company had exceeded expectations. -Because of this he had broken his compact and allowed his privacy to -be invaded by two vivid personalities. The first had been Prince -Rogovich--the second, Santa Gorlof. - -Prince Rogovich had evidently boarded the ship with precisely the same -intentions as himself. All his meals had been served in his stateroom; -it had not been until the evening of the third day that he had appeared -on deck. He was a man of commanding height, lean of hip and contemptuous -of eye, with the disquieting, haughty reticence of an inscrutable -Pharaoh. There was something alluring and oriental about the man, at -once sinister and charming. Behind his silky black beard he hid a -face which was deathly white; its pallor was not of ill-health, but -of passion. It was easy to believe all the rumors about him, both as -regarded his diabolical cleverness and his sensual cruelty. His enemies -were legion. Even among his countrymen he could count few friends, -although he was reckoned their greatest patriot. In Poland he was -suspected as much as he was admired, and was accused of intriguing -in order that he might set up a throne for himself. The object of his -flying visit to America had been to consult financial magnates on the -advisability of floating an international loan in the interests of -Poland. There were men the world over and in Russia especially, who -would have paid a king's ransom for advance information as to what -answer the financiers had returned. - -Though Hindwood would not have claimed as much, he and the Prince were -two of a kind, equally magnificent in their dreams, equally relentless -in their means of realization, and equally insatiable in their -instinct for conquest. Their difference lay in the fact that the Polish -aristocrat had already attained the goal toward which the self-made -American was no more than striving. - -Their first meeting had happened in the early hours of the morning. -Hindwood, being unable to sleep, had partly dressed and gone on deck. -There, in the grayness of the dawn, he had espied a tall figure slowly -pacing, accompanied by a snow-white Russian wolfhound. It was the -remarkable grace of the man that had first held him, his faculty for -stillness, his spectral paleness, his padded tread. But the moment -he had approached him, the sense of his grace had been obscured by an -atmosphere of menace. So sinister was his beauty that it had required -an effort to pass him twice. Secretly Hindwood had observed him. He was -like his hound, treacherously languid, insolently fastidious, and bred -to the point of emaciation. But his languor was the disguise of a hidden -fierceness, which betrayed itself in his red, curved lips and the marble -coldness of his stare. It was at the third time of passing, when he had -all but gone by him, that he had heard his name spoken. - -“Mr. Hindwood.” Then, as he had turned, “You're the famous railroad -expert. Am I right? It's fortunate we should have met. I missed you in -America. So you, too, are among the sleepless!” - -Then and there had started the first of those amazing conversations, -which had held Hindwood fascinated for the remainder of the voyage. -It had made no difference that in his heart he had almost hated the -man--hated his ruthlessness, his subtlety, his polished immorality; -the moment he commenced to talk, he surrendered to his spell. Their -encounters had taken place for the most part between midnight and -sunrise. To be his companion was like eavesdropping on the intimate -counsels of all the cabinets of Europe or like reading your daily paper -a year before it was published for the rest of mankind. On matters -which did not concern him the Prince could be brilliantly confessional; -indiscretion was the bait with which he lured his victims to reveal -themselves. The secrets which were his own he kept. Never once did he -drop a hint that would indicate the success or failure of his recent -mission. The single time that, Santa Gorlof had asked him point-blank, -his dark eyes had become focusless as opals, and his white face, under -its silky covering of beard, unnoticing and sphinx-like. It was then -that Hindwood had recognized the resemblance to Pharaoh in his tyrannic -immobility and silence. - -And Santa Gorlof! There was a woman--mysterious, exotic, well-nigh -mythical! Compared with her the Prince was an open book. From the start -she had made no attempt to explain herself, had referred neither to her -past nor her future, had offered no credentials. She had imposed herself -on Hind-wood like a goddess who expected to be worshiped. She had swept -him off his feet, beaten aside his caution, and reached his heart before -he was aware. - -But was it his heart? How often, in the past few days, he had asked -himself that question! He didn't want to believe that it was his heart. -He was a man who rode alone; his aloneness was the reason for his -swiftness. He had been tricked once by a woman. That was when he was -a boy; now he was a man nearing forty. She had cheated him so cruelly -that, though she had been dead many years, the bitterness still rankled. -Behind the beauty of all women his skepticism detected the shallow -loveliness of the one false woman who had stolen his idealism, that she -might trample on it. - -He did not love Santa. He had assured himself a thousand times that he -did not love her. She was too dangerous, too incalculable. He had spent -long hours of wakeful nights in completing the inventory of her bad -points. And yet, while he had been with her, his veins had run -fire; while he had been apart from her, all his pleasures had seemed -tasteless. Who was she? Whence had she come? Whither was she going? -What had been her business on the _Ryndam_, and what had Prince Rogovich -known about her? The Prince had known something--something which had -given him power over her. At a glance from him, her caprice had -vanished and she had become downcast as a child. He had muttered a few -unintelligible words, probably in Polish, and her pride had crumbled. - -Hindwood was at a loss to account for these signs of a secret -understanding. It had been he who had introduced them. It had been Santa -who had confessed to curiosity about the Prince and had begged for the -introduction. The moment he had made them acquainted, they had seemed to -become delighted with each other's company--so delighted that there had -been times when he himself had felt excluded. A half-humorous rivalry -for Santa's favors had sprung up between the Prince and himself. This -atmosphere of jealousy had been accentuated by the behavior of the -wolfhound; Santa's mere approach had been sufficient to rouse him -into fury. He had become so dangerous that he had had to be sent below -whenever she was present. - -And yet, despite her manifest efforts to hold the Prince enchanted, -behind his back she had expressed the most vigorous aversion. She had -spoken of his reputation for treachery and the whispers that went the -rounds of his heartlessness toward women. During the final days of the -voyage she had partly atoned for this inconsistency by appealing to -Hindwood to protect her against the Prince's far too pressing attention. -She had declared herself to be in some kind of danger--though what -kind, whether moral or physical, she had left him to conjecture. She -had rather flattered him by her appeal; nevertheless, he had been -considerably surprised to observe how little interest she had still -displayed in protecting herself. During the whole of that last day, -while they had been approaching the white line of Cornish coast, she had -scarcely devoted to him a glance or a word; every minute she had spent -with His Highness, whom she professed to regard with so much terror. She -had created the impression of employing every trick at her disposal in a -frantic attempt to secure him as her conquest. - -If, as many of the passengers had asserted, the presence of Santa Gorlof -and the Prince on the same boat had been no accident, then what had been -the object of their elaborately planned deception? Were they lovers who -had chosen this secret method of traveling in order to avoid a scandal? -Or was she one of the many women whom he was reported to have abandoned, -who had seized the leisure of an Atlantic voyage as an opportunity for -reinstating herself in his affection? - -As Hindwood listened in the darkness to the Prince's name being shouted -and waited for the tug to cast off, the surmise strengthened into -certainty that he had been the dupe of a piece of play-acting, the -purpose of which he could not fathom. - - -III - - -Philip!” - -He had been so absorbed in his thoughts that he had not noticed how she -had stolen up behind him. Without removing his arms from the rail, he -turned slowly and surveyed her. - -An enviable woman! And her age? Perhaps thirty. She was probably a -Slav--either Russian or Polish. Her face was smooth as marble, high -cheekboned and golden in complexion. Her eyes were almond-shaped, -heavy-lidded, and of the palest gray. Her lips were passionate and -always a little parted, revealing a line of perfect whiteness like a -streak of snow between the curling edges of two rose-petals. But it was -her hair that was her glory--abundant as night, blue-black as steel, and -polished as metal. She wore it simply, gathered back from her forehead -and caught in a loose knot, low against her neck. There was an air of -indefinable aristocracy about her; perhaps it was the slightness of her -figure and the alert composure of her carriage. And then there was a -touch of the exotic, wistfully sad, yet exceedingly mocking. Like so -many Slavs, behind the European there lurked a hint of the Asiatic. -If her eyes had been darker, she might easily have passed for a Hindoo -princess. - -Her fascination, quite apart from her beauty, lay in the fact that she -was so ravishingly feminine. To be a woman was her proud profession--and -in this again she was Asiatic. What hours she must have spent over -pampering her body! She was sleek and groomed as a race-horse. -Physically she was the last word in feminine perfection. Her string -of pearls was worth more than most men earn in a lifetime. Her sables -represented the year's income of a millionaire. There was no item of her -attire that was not sumptuous and that had not been acquired regardless -of expense. To have achieved her luxuriance of beauty must have -dissipated a fortune. Whose fortune? Surely, not hers! - -His mind was haunted by misgivings as he watched her. He had so nearly -allowed himself to care for her. It was only her lightness and -willful inconsiderateness that had prevented. But now that he had been -prevented, her employment of his Christian name struck him as singularly -inappropriate. It made him suspect a trap. It put him in a mood to -interpret any tenderness on her part as strategy, as a signal that -something was wanted. - -While he eyed her in silence, she drew nearer and leaned across the -rail. Her shoulder pressed him. He was aware of the tingling sensation -of her warmth, like a little hand caressing. He caught her fragrance, -secret and somnolent as the magic of hidden rose-gardens in Damascus. - -She spoke. Her voice was deep and foreign; it seemed too deep to be pent -in so slight a body. It was harsh in many of its tones, as though there -had been times when it had been parched with thirst. It conjured visions -of caravans creeping across molten deserts. It was hypnotic, barbaric. -In listening to it, he lost sight of the exquisite sophistication of her -appearance. His imagination reclothed her, loosening her hair, veiling -her face, shrouding her in a robe of gold and saffron, slipping sandals -on her feet and making her ankles tinkle with many bangles. - -“You don't like me any more. Is it not so?” she questioned softly. “My -master is offended.” - -He shook himself irritably, as though he were flinging off the yoke of -her attraction. “I'm not offended. I was thinking.” - -“About what?” - -“Prince Rogovich.” - -“And why should my master be thinking of Prince Rogovich?” - -He leaned still further across the rail in an instinctive effort to -avoid her. There was seduction in the feigned humility with which she -addressed him, as though he were a Pasha and she a slave-girl. - -“Because,” he said, “it would be indecent for me to be thinking of -anything else. He may be dead. There's no knowing. This time last night -I could walk and talk and laugh with him. He was full of plans. He was -something real that I could touch. To-night he has vanished.” - -“Vanished!” She repeated the word with a sigh which was almost of -contentment. - -“I was wondering,” he continued, and then halted. “You were wondering?” - she prompted. - -Drawing himself erect, he faced her. Her bantering tone had roused his -indignation. Yet, even in his revulsion, he thrilled to the sweetness of -her luring eyes, glinting at him palely through the shadows. - -“He was more your friend, much more your friend, than mine,” he -reproached her. “There's probably been a tragedy. Yet you don't seem to -care. One might even believe you were glad.” - -“Not glad. Not exactly.” She spoke smilingly, averting her eyes. “But as -for caring--why should I?” - -He laughed quietly. “Yes, why should you? Why should you care what -happens to any man?” - -“But I hated him,” she protested. “He had given me cause to hate him.” - -“You had a strange way of showing it. You made yourself most amazingly -charming. He could never have guessed--no one could ever have guessed -who watched you with him, that you--” - -“Ah, no. Only you and I--we knew. It wasn't our business to let -everybody guess.” - -Suddenly she seemed to divine what was troubling him. Darting out her -hand, she seized his wrist in a grip of steel. That such strength lay -hidden in so frail a hand was unexpected. Her attitude instantly changed -to one of coaxing. - -“You're jealous. Don't be jealous. It had to be, and it's ended. In a -sense it was for your sake that it had to happen.” - -Leisurely he freed himself, bending back her fingers and taking pleasure -in demonstrating that his strength was the greater. - -“I've no idea what you're talking about,” he said coldly. “Your feelings -toward Prince Rogovich are none of my concern. If, by the thing that had -to happen, you refer to the shameless way in which you made love to him, -I can not conceive any possible set of circumstances that would make it -necessary for you to make love for my sake to another man.” - -He had turned and was sauntering away from her. She went after him -breathlessly, arresting him once more with the secret strength of her -slim, gloved hand. - -“To make love to him! I didn't mean that.” - -What it was that she had meant, she had no time to tell. The siren of -the _Ryndam_ burst into an earsplitting blast, impatient, repeated, and -agonizing. At the signal gangplanks were withdrawn from the tug and run -back into dark holes in the side of the liner. Ropes were cast off and -coiled. Engines began to quicken and screws to churn. The narrow channel -which had separated the two vessels commenced to widen. On the _Ryndam_ -the band struck up. Above its lively clamor the sound of Prince -Rogovich's name being shouted could still be heard. As Hindwood stared -up at the floating mammoth, scanning the tiers of faces gaping down, -even at tills last moment he half expected to see the Prince come -rushing out. Instead a sight much stranger met his eyes. - -The tug was backing away to get sufficient clearance to turn in the -direction of land. She had not quite cleared herself, when signs -of frenzied disturbance were noticeable on the promenade deck. The -musicians were dropping their instruments and fleeing. Passengers were -glancing across their shoulders and scattering in all directions. In the -vacant space which their stampede had created, the infuriated head of -the Prince's wolfhound reared itself. For a couple of seconds he hung -there poised, glaring down; then suddenly he seemed to descry the object -he was searching. Steadying himself, he shot straight out into the gulf -of blackness. In a white streak, like the finger of conscience pointing, -he fell, just missing the deck of the tug, where Hindwood and his -companion were standing. He must have struck the side, for as he reached -the water he sank. - -It was over in less time than it takes to tell, but it had seemed to -Hindwood that as the hound had leaped, his burning gaze had been fixed -on Santa Gorlof. - - -IV - - -She made no sound while the danger lasted, but the moment the hurtling, -white body had fallen short, she rushed to the side, peering down into -the yeasty scum of churned-up blackness. She was speaking rapidly in a -foreign language, laughing softly with malicious triumph and shaking a -small, clenched fist at the night. It was thus that a woman at Jezreel -must have looked, when she painted her face and tired her hair and -leaned out of her palace window, jeering at the charioteer who had been -sent to slay her. The passionate eloquence of Santa's gestures thrilled -as much as it shocked Hindwood; it made her appearance of lavish -modernity seem a disguise. And yet he admired her more than ever; it was -her courage he admired. Putting his arm about her roughly, “Enough,” he -said. “You're coming inside.” - -She darted back her head in defiance like a serpent about to strike. -Then recognition of him dawned in her eyes. She ceased to struggle and -relaxed against his breast. It was only for a second. Slipping her arm -submissively into his, “Very well. If you say so,” she whispered. - -Guiding her steps across the slippery deck, he pushed open the door of a -little saloon and entered. The atmosphere was blue with wreaths of smoke -and heavy with the smell of tobacco. At a table in the center, beneath a -swinging lamp, the immigration officers were dealing cards and settling -their debts with pennies. They were too absorbed in their petty gambling -to notice what was going on about them. In a corner, outside the circle -of light, he found a trunk and ordered her to sit down. The meekness -with which she complied flattered his sense of her dependence. He might -really have been a Pasha and she his slave-girl. - -He did not understand her. She cozened and baffled him. People and -things which he did not understand were apt to rouse his resentment, -especially when they were women. His distrust of the sex was inherent. -But as he watched this woman drooping in the shadows, his pity came -uppermost. She was so alone, so unprotected. The hour was late--long -past midnight. Her storm of emotion had exhausted her. It was absurd -that he should have allowed himself to become so jealous. He could never -have made her his wife. The chances were, she would not have accepted -him; she belonged to a more modish world. And if she had, she would have -driven him from his course with her whims and tempests. She would have -wrecked his career with her greed for wealthy trappings. He and she -were utterly different. They had nothing in common but their physical -attraction. - -He was seeing things clearly. With each fresh whiff of land, affairs -were regrouping themselves in their true perspective. He had been the -shuttlecock of a shipboard flirtation. He had magnified infatuation -into a grand passion. On many a previous voyage he had been the amused -spectator of just such profitless expenditures of sentiment. And here -he was, a victim of the same foolishness! The futility of the ending -was the adventure's condemnation. Probably she was indulging in similar -reflections! Within an hour of stepping ashore they would have lost -sight of each other forever. After so much intimacy and misplaced -emotion, they would walk out of each other's life without regret. Partly -out of curiosity, but more out of courtesy, he seated himself beside her -for what he intended should be their last conversation. - -“What happens next?” - -She clutched her furs more closely about her. “I don't know.” - -“But you must know,” he persisted. “What I meant was, where is your -destination?” - -“London.” Then she added wearily, “You could have discovered by -examining my labels.” - -Her fatigue made him the more determined to be helpful. “I didn't ask -out of impertinence, but because I thought it would be London. Probably -there'll be no train to London to-night. If the Prince had been with us, -they'd have put on a special, but you and I are the only passengers, -and neither of us is sufficiently important. Besides, after this delay, -it'll be nearly daylight before we clear the Customs.” - -“Then I'll have to sleep in Plymouth.” - -“Perhaps you'll be met by friends?” - -He had no sooner hazarded the suggestion than an obvious conjecture -flashed through his mind. The marvel was that it had not flashed -earlier. _She might be married._ If the conjecture proved correct, -it would put the final punishing touch of satire to this wild-goose -romance. - -Sweeping him with her pale, derisive eyes, “Friends!” she murmured. “You -may set your mind at rest. I shall be met by no friends.” - -After that there was silence, a silence interrupted at intervals by the -exclamations of the players as they thumped down their cards and raked -in their pennies. - -For relief he reverted to the subject uppermost in both their minds. “I -wonder what became of him.” - -“I wonder.” Her tone betrayed no interest. - -“I've been trying to think back,” he said, “trying to remember when last -I saw him.” - -“Yes.” - -“I believe I last saw him alive just after----” - -She spun round, as though jerked on wires. “Alive! Who suggests that he -isn't alive?” - -“No one. I'm the first. But if he isn't found by to-morrow, the -suggestion will be on the lips of all the world.” - -“I doubt it.” - -“You do?” Hindwood smiled. “Men of the Prince's eminence are not -allowed to vanish without a stir. I'm only hoping that you and I are not -involved in it. We were the only people with whom he associated on the -voyage. We're likely to be detained and certain to be questioned. For -all we know the air's full of Marconi messages about us at this moment.” - -Her face had gone white. “About us? What had we to do with it?” - -“Nothing. But when a tragedy of this sort occurs, we're all liable to be -suspected.” - -She gazed at him intently. “Then you think there was a tragedy?” - -“I feel sure of it. It's my belief that he either fell or was pushed -overboard. Somewhere out there in the darkness he's bobbing up and down. -It's almost as though I could see him. I couldn't feel more sure if----” - -She shuddered and pressed against him. “You're trying to frighten me. -I won't be frightened. It's all nonsense what you're saying. Why should -any one want to push him over?” - -“I'm sorry,” he apologized. “I didn't mean to frighten you. Perhaps -we're wasting our breath and already he's been found.” - -“No, but why should any one want to push him over?” she urged. - -“I can't answer that. But he wasn't liked. One could be fascinated by -his personality, but one couldn't like him. Take yourself--weren't you -telling me a few minutes ago how intensely you hated him?” - -She nodded. “He was the sort of man every woman had the right to hate.” - After a pause she faced him, completely mistress of herself. “When did -you last see him?” - -“I'm not certain.” Hindwood hesitated. “As far as I remember, it was -after dinner in the lounge. He was giving some instructions about his -baggage. When did you?” - -“After dinner in the lounge.” Her eyes met his and flickered. “It must -have been shortly after eight, for I spent till ten in my stateroom -finishing my packing.” - -Before she had made an end, he knew that she had lied. Several times -after dinner he had walked past her stateroom, hoping for a last -encounter. Her trunks and cases had been piled in the passage, already -locked and strapped. He had tried to discover from the stewardess her -whereabouts and had been told that since dining she had not returned. He -had gone on deck in search of her, hunting everywhere. It must have been -shortly after ten that he had come across two shadowy figures in the -bows. They were whispering together. They might have been embracing. -The man's figure had been too dim for him to identify, but he could have -sworn that the woman's was hers. - -He had reached this point in his piecing together of evidence, when he -noticed that the card-players were pushing back their chairs. - -Santa touched his arm gently. “I think we're there.” - -The next moment the soft bump of the tug against the piles confirmed the -news of their arrival. - - -V - - -It began to look as if all hope of rest would have to be abandoned. At -the moment of landing the dock had been almost festive. There had been -a group of railway officials, mildly beaming and fussily important, who -had approached Hindwood as he stepped ashore, with “Prince Rogovich, -if we are not mistaken?” There had been another group of newspaper -reporters who, having addressed him as “Your Highness,” and having -discovered their error, had promptly turned their backs on him. - -There had been a Major in uniform, with a monocle in his eye, who had -pranced up, tearing off a salute and announcing, “I'm detailed by the -Foreign Office, your Excellency.” - -When they had learned that the Prince had unaccountably avoided -Plymouth, their atmosphere of geniality faded. The special train, which -was to have borne him swiftly to London, was promptly canceled. Within -ten minutes, muttering with disgust, all the world except two porters -had dribbled off into the night. - -In the waiting-room where, pending the inspection of the Customs -officers, Hindwood and Santa were ordered to remain, their reception was -no more enlivening. At first, when they had entered, a lunch-counter -had been spread, gleaming with warmth and light. Before mirrors, girl -attendants had been self-consciously reviewing their appearance with -smiles of brightest expectation. Their expectancy had been quickly -dulled by the news of the Prince's non-arrival. They had scarcely spared -time to supply the wants of the two travelers before they had started -to close up. The ticket clerk had copied the girls' example. As he had -pulled down the shutter of his office he had briefly stated, “No train -till the eight-thirty in the morning.” - -After that they had been left--he and this strange woman--in the drafty -gloom of the ill-lighted dockstation. The two porters had huddled down -and snored among the baggage; Santa, closing her eyes, had appeared to -join them in their slumbers. - -At last a solitary Customs officer had arrived. He volunteered no -explanation for his delay. He was evidently newly risen, half awake, -and in a mood of suppressed irritation. His examination was perfunctory. -Having completed his barest duty, he likewise made his exit. It was -then, when all their troubles seemed ended, that the porters had -informed them that it was necessary for passengers to see their luggage -weighed and personally to supervise its being loaded in the van for -London. - -Hindwood turned to his companion. “You're tired. You'd better be off to -bed. I'll see this through for you.” - -Half an hour later, when he had complied with all formalities and was -free to seek a bed himself, he remembered that he hadn't inquired -where she would be staying and that he didn't know the name of a hotel. -Wondering where he should sleep and how he could reach her with the -receipts for her trunks, he wandered out into the yard of the station. -The first grayness of dawn was spreading. A chill was in the air. Behind -the sepulchers of muted houses a cock was crowing. He gazed up and down. -Near the gate a horse-drawn cab was standing. Its lamp burned dimly, -on the point of flickering out. The driver sat hunched on the box; the -horse hung dejectedly between the shafts. They both slumbered immovably. - -Crossing the yard, he shook the man's arm. “Hi! Wake up. I want you to -drive me to a good hotel.” The man came to with a jerk. “A good 'otel! -That's wot the lady wanted. You must be the gen'leman I wuz told to wait -for.” - -Hindwood nodded. “So you've driven the lady already! Then you'd better -take me to wherever you took her.” - -He had opened the door and was in the act of entering when the horse -started forward, making him lose his balance. As he stretched out his -hands to steady himself, what was his surprise to discover that the cab -was already tenanted! - - -VI - - -I beg your pardon.” - -There was no reply to his apology. He repeated it in a tone of more -elaborate courtesy, “I _beg_ your pardon.” - -When he was again greeted with silence, he added: “I thought it was -empty. I didn't do it on purpose. I hope you're not hurt.” - -In the mildewed square of blackness, rank with the smell of stables, he -held his breath, trying to detect whether sleep would account for the -taciturnity of the other occupant. He could detect nothing; all lesser -sounds were drowned in the rattle of their progress. Groping, he felt a -woman's dress. Hollowing his hand to shade the flame, he struck a match. -For a brief moment his eyes met hers, opened wide and gazing at him. -Instantly she leaned forward, pursing her lips. The flame went out. - -“What's the meaning of this?” He had been startled and spoke with -sharpness. - -“There was only one cab, so I----” She yawned luxuriously. “So I waited. -I didn't want to lose you.” - -It was his turn to be silent. After a pause, while she gave him a chance -to reply, she continued: “You'd have been stranded if I'd taken the only -cab. And then I didn't want to lose you. Not that losing me would have -meant anything to you--not now. It wouldn't, would it?” - -There was no escape. However she chose to accuse him, he would be forced -to listen. But it couldn't be far to the hotel. Speaking reasonably, he -attempted to appease her. “I've given you no occasion for supposing----” - -She laughed softly. “Don't you think so? On the boat you were burning up -for me. You were molten--incandescent. Now you're dark and dank--through -with me.” - -She caught her breath. Though he could not see her, he knew that her -small, clenched fists were pressed against her mouth. Again she was -speaking. - -“Why is it? If you'd only give me a reason! While I've been sitting here -alone, I've kept asking myself: 'Why is it? Am I less beautiful, less -kind, less good? Does he think that he's discovered something evil about -me? What have I done that he should have changed so suddenly?'” - -With a cry of pain, she turned. “What have I done? It's just that you -should tell me. If you'll take me back, I'll be anything for you. I'll -try so hard to be more beautiful.” - -“You couldn't be more beautiful.” - -It was said without enthusiasm. The suspicion still possessed him that -she was play-acting. Last evening she had practiced these same wiles on -the man who had vanished. Did she intend that he should vanish, too? -It was horrible that he should ask himself such a question, and yet he -could not rid his imagination of the snow-white hound, plunging to death -and pointing at her like the finger of conscience. The happenings of -that night had been sufficiently dramatic, so why this second rehearsal? -He was too humble in his self-esteem to believe that his own attractions -could account for such a storm of passion. - -“Santa, you're exaggerating.” He spoke cautiously. “You never belonged -to me. Until now you've given no hint that you wanted to belong to me. -On the contrary, you've trifled with me and shown a distinct preference -for another man. It's preposterous for you to talk about my taking you -back when I never had you. We've been companions for a handful of hours. -We've liked being together--at least, I have. But to create such a scene -is absurd. Nothing warrants it. In the ordinary course of events, our -liking might strengthen into love--there's no telling. But everything'll -end right here and now if you force matters. What d'you know about me? -About you I know even less. If any one were to ask me, I couldn't tell -him whether you were a Pole or a Persian, or whether you were single, -divorced, or married. I haven't the least idea of your social standing -or why, while appearing so prosperous, you travel without a maid and by -yourself. For all I know----” - -“A man needs to know nothing about a woman,” she interrupted, “except -that he loves her. She might be a thousand things; if he loved her, none -of them would count. If she were bad, he would hope to make her good -with his own goodness. Men always expect women to do that; why shouldn't -a woman expect it of a man? If you loved me--and you did love me--no -matter how wicked you thought me, even though you believed I'd killed -some one, you wouldn't care. You'd find some splendid motive and -persuade yourself that I'd done it for the best.” She broke off. Then -she added, “Of course, I haven't.” - -“Haven't!” - -“Haven't killed somebody.” - -It was an extraordinary disclaimer--as though it were always within the -bounds of possibility that nice, conventional women might have killed -somebody. She had said it as casually as another woman might have said, -“I don't powder,” or “I don't smoke.” - -He scarcely know whether to be shocked or amused. He was loath to take -her seriously. Behind the thinning darkness he was trying to discover -her expression, when his calmness was swept away by a new disturbance. -She had slipped to her knees in the narrow space. By the dim light that -streaked the panes he could just make out her figure, bowed against him. -The next moment her tears were falling, and she was kissing his hands. - -“You mustn't, Santa.” - -He tried to withdraw his hands. She clung to them. Failing in that, -he attempted to raise her face. She kept it obstinately averted. The -bumping of the cab on the uneven paving jostled her against him; -he feared lest inadvertently he might bruise her. The situation -was grotesque. It stirred both his pity and his anger. If this were -play-acting, then it was laughter and not sobbing that was shaking her. -But if her grief were real---- - -At that thought the shy, lonely tenderness of the man overwhelmed him. -Here at last was a fellow-creature who needed his affection. She was so -fragile, so capricious, so rapturous! - -“Poor Santa! I didn't mean---- Somehow I've hurt you.” - -She didn't speak, but she stayed her sobbing. - -“Let me see your face.” - -He stooped lower. The scent of her hair was in his nostrils. His -reluctant arms went about her. Their embrace strengthened. - -With a moan she lifted up her face, white and ghostly as the dawn that -was all about them. In a frenzy of silent longing their lips met. - - -VII - - -With a jerk the cab drew up against the pavement. Tossing the reins on -the horse's back, the driver was lumbering down. That Santa might have -time to compose herself, Hindwood leaned quickly out, slamming the door -behind him. - -“Where've you brought us?” - -“It's a good 'otel,” the man grumbled, on the defensive, staring at the -gray cliff of shrouded windows. “It was a good 'otel you wanted. And -then it's h'opposite the London Station where the train starts in the -marnin'. It'll give the missis ten minutes extry in bed.” - -“The missis!” Hindwood frowned. “If you refer to the lady who's with me, -she's not my 'missis.'” - -The man became sly. Stretching a fat finger along his nose, he edged -nearer and whispered: “Between you and me that's h'alright. Wot wiv -drivin' so many gentry from the Contingnong me own morals are almost -foreign.” - -Hindwood turned from him coldly. “You're on the wrong tack. And now how -does one get into this hotel? Will they admit us at such an hour?” - -“H'at h'all hours. H'absolutely h'at h'all hours.” - -“If that's the case,” he thrust his head inside the cab, “you stay here, -Santa. I'll go and find out.” - -In a few minutes he was back. “They'll take us. Go inside and wait while -I settle with the driver.” When he joined her at the desk, he found it -necessary to make the same explanation that he had already made to -the cabman. The night-porter had allotted them one room, taking it for -granted they were married. He had to be informed that two were required. - -“D'you want 'em on the same floor and next to each other?” - -“On the roof if you like,” Hindwood answered impatiently, “only let us -get to bed. We're, or rather _I'm_ catching the eight-thirty train to -London in the morning, and it's nearly daylight now. How about you?” He -turned to Santa. “What train are you catching?” - -“The same as you.” - -“Then we might as well breakfast together?” - -She nodded. - -Turning again to the night-porter, he said, “Put us both down for a call -at seven.” - -The man was leading the way upstairs. As they followed, Santa whispered, - -“You see, you were mistaken.” - -“How?” - -“You threatened that we'd be detained and questioned. You frightened me -terribly. We weren't.” - -“No. We weren't.” - -She slipped her arm through his companionably. “I feel so relieved and -happy. I don't believe there was a tragedy. The Prince changed his mind -at the last moment; he's landing at Boulogne or Rotterdam. It may even -have been a strategy to mislead some enemy who was waiting for him here -in Plymouth.” - -“Perhaps. I never thought of that.” - -Their rooms were on different floors. The porter showed the way to hers -first. Now that they had to separate, Hindwood would have given much for -a private word with her. Discreetly, outside her door, in the presence -of the night-porter, they parted. - -“Then we meet at breakfast,” he reminded her. - -“At breakfast,” she assented. “And let's hope that we don't oversleep -ourselves.” - - -VIII - - -It seemed to him that his head had just touched the pillow when he was -awakened by his door being pounded. Sitting up in bed, he consulted his -watch. Seven exactly! - -“I'm awake,” he shouted. With that he jumped out of bod to prevent -himself from drowsing. - -His first thought was of her; again he was going to meet her. The -prospect filled him with excitement, but not with gladness. His dreams -had been troubled by her; there had been no moment since he had closed -his eyes that he had been without her. The wildness of that kiss, -bestowed in the dark by a woman humbling herself, had set his blood on -fire. It was not right that a man should be kissed like that, and yet he -longed to reexperience the sensation. - -“Any woman could have done it,” he argued. “This isn't love; it's -nothing peculiar to Santa. Any reasonably beautiful woman could have -done it by acting the way she acted. I had consoled myself that I was -immune from women. I was starving, and I didn't know it.” - -His sane mind warned him that it would be wise to avoid further -encounters. She was too alluring for him to withstand. There were too -many things about her that were unaccountable. There was her frenzied -display of infatuation for both himself and the Prince, all within the -space of twelve hours. - -He was brushing his hair and viewing his reflection in the shabby -mirror, when he reached this point. He stopped brushing and regarded his -reflection intently. What could any woman discover in those features -to go mad over? It was a hard face, cleanshaven, bony, and powerful, -roughened by the wind and tanned by the sun. It was the mask of an -ascetic, which concealed rather than revealed the emotions. And yet once -it had been sensitive; you could trace that in the kindly blueness of -the eyes and the faint tenderness of the full-lipped mouth. The hair was -a rusty brown, growing thin about the temples; the nose was pinched at -the nostrils with long-endured suffering--the brow furrowed. He smiled -in amused disapproval and went on with his brushing. Not the face of an -Apollo! Nothing to rave about! - -And yet, despite his looks, here was at least one woman who, for -whatever reason, was desperate to marry him. On the drive through the -dawn from the dock to the hotel she had left no doubt of her intentions. -It inflamed his curiosity. Though he was nearing forty, with the -exception of that one disastrous affair, women were still for him an -untried adventure. But in the case of Santa, to indulge his curiosity -further might lead to penalties. She was liable to repeat last night's -performance; the journey to London would probably provide her with a -fitting opportunity. If it did, could he muster the cruelty to refuse -her? - -On one point his mind was made up: he would not marry her. He had no -time to waste on marriage. With her it would be folly. Moreover, while -her breaking down of reticences had spurred his eagerness, it had -forfeited his respect. It had robbed him of his prerogative of conquest. -It had changed him from the hunter into the hunted. He was all but -trapped. - -“Trapped!” - -He was fastening his bag. He pressed the catch into the lock and stood -up. - -“Trapped! Not yet. Not exactly.” - -Immediately his mind began to race, devising plans for eluding capture. -He didn't need to keep his breakfast appointment with her. He could miss -the eight-thirty and travel to London later. He could slip out unnoticed -and take up his abode in another hotel. Once he had lost her, he would -have put himself beyond temptation. She would have no clew to his -whereabouts, nor he to hers. - -As he passed slowly down the stairs, he was still undecided as to how he -should act. On arriving in the hall, he loitered by the hotel desk, half -determined to call for his reckoning and make a bolt for it. While he -dallied, the yearning to see her for a last time swam uppermost. After -all, he owed something to the only woman who had paid him the compliment -of loving him. He would not speak to her, would not let her know that he -was there. He would peep into the room unseen and remember her always as -waiting for him. - -Bag in hand, he strode along the passage to the coffee-room, where -breakfast was being served. The baize doors were a-swing with scurrying -waiters. Stooping, he peered through the panes. Pushing the doors -slightly open, he gazed more steadily. The room was littered with -ungroomed people, their heads bowed, their elbows flapping, like a flock -of city sparrows snatching crumbs from beneath the hoofs of passing -traffic. Nowhere could he espy her, his rarer bird of the dainty -plumage. - -He grew ashamed of his furtiveness. Why should he be afraid of her? She -shouldn't be disappointed. She should find him gallantly expecting her. -Resigning his bag to a solicitous bell-boy, he drew himself up to his -lean western height and entered. - - -IX - - -Seated at a table, lie had watched the swing-doors for a full -half-hour. He had finished his breakfast. If he were to catch the -eight-thirty, it was time for him to be moving. He began to flirt with -the idea of postponing his journey; it was evident she had overslept -herself. - -At the desk, while he settled his account, he had it on the tip of his -tongue to inquire for her, but he was daunted by the presence of the -night-porter. The man kept eyeing him with a knowing grin, as though he -were expecting just such a question. - -“I won't gratify him,” Hindwood thought. “The fellow knows too much. -It's fate, if I miss her.” - -He crossed the road to the station. Having secured a seat in a -first-class smoker, he roamed up and down the platform. Every few -minutes he consulted his watch as the hands circled nearer to the -half-hour. He bought papers at the news-stand and returned to buy more -papers; from there, while not seeming to do so, he could obtain a clear -view of the hotel. And still there was no sign of her. - -When it was almost too late, he threw caution to the winds. At a gait -between a run and a walk, he recrossed the road and dashed up the hotel -steps. As he confronted the clerk behind the desk, he was a little -breathless; he was also aware that the night-porter's grin had widened. - -“There's a lady staying here. She was to have traveled with me to -London. I'm afraid she's not been wakened.” - -“A lady!” The clerk looked up with the bored expression of one who was -impervious to romance. “A lady! Oh, yes.” - -“She's a passenger from the _Ryndam_,” he continued. “Her name's Miss -Gorlof. Send some one to her room to find out at once----” - -The night-porter interrupted. Addressing the clerk, he said: “The -gentleman means the foreign-looking lady wot I told you about--the one -in all the furs.” Then to Hindwood, “She was called for at six this -mornin'. A gentleman in goggles, who couldn't speak no English, arrived -in a tourin' car and drove off with 'er.” - -“Drove off with her. But----” - -Realizing that too much emotion would make him appear ridiculous, he -steadied his voice and asked casually, “I suppose she left a note for -me?” - -The clerk glanced across his shoulder at the rack. “Your name's Mr. -Hindwood, isn't it?” He raised his hand to a pigeonhole lettered “H”. -“You can see for yourself, sir. There's nothing in it.” - -“Then perhaps it was a verbal message. She would be certain to leave me -her address.” - -The clerk turned to the night-porter. “Did she?” The night-porter beamed -with satisfaction. “She did not.” - -He had achieved his dramatic effect. - - -X - - -He was the last passenger to squeeze through the barrier. As he -scrambled into his carriage, the train was on the point of moving. -Spreading one of his many papers on his knees, he lit a cigarette. He -believed he was behaving as though nothing had happened. “That I -can take it like this proves that she was nothing to me,” he assured -himself. - -Ten minutes later he discovered that he had not read a line and that the -cigarette had gone out. - -“I suppose I'm a bit upset,” he admitted, “though goodness knows why I -should be. The matter's ended exactly as I wanted.” - -But had it? What had he wanted? Does a man ever know what he wants where -a woman is concerned? He desires most the thing which he most dreads. -During the voyage he had wanted to win her from Prince Rogovich. On -the tug he had wanted to forget her. In the cab he had wanted to go on -kissing her forever. That morning he had wanted to save his freedom. -On the station, like a maddened schoolboy, his terror had been lest he -might lose her. - -As a result he had lost her. Somewhere through the sunny lanes of Devon -she was speeding with the gentleman who “couldn't speak no English” - and wore goggles. In which direction and for what purpose he could not -guess. - -He smiled bitterly. It was a situation which called for mirth. He had -accused her of having trapped him at a time when she herself had been -escaping from him. He had complained that her affection was too ardently -obvious at a moment when she was proving herself most coldly elusive. -While he had been resenting the way in which he was being hunted, she -had already abandoned him to hunt to his heart's content. - -His reflections were broken in upon by a weakeyed old clergyman seated -opposite to him in the far corner. - -“Excuse me, but I see by your labels that you've just landed. May I ask -whether your vessel was the _Ryndam_?” - -“It was.” - -“Then there's an item in the local paper which should interest you. It -has to do with Prince Rogovich, the great Polish patriot. He was your -fellow passenger, if I'm not mistaken.” - -Hindwood was disinclined for conversation. He made his tone brusk that -he might discourage further questions. “You're not mistaken, and I guess -I know what you're going to tell me: that after all the preparations -made for his reception, the Prince didn't land at Plymouth but, without -notifying any one, traveled on either to Boulogne or Rotterdam.” - -“But that wasn't what I was going to tell you,” the old gentleman -continued in his benevolent pulpit manner. “Oh, no, I was going to tell -you something quite different. After the _Ryndam_ left Plymouth, the -Captain had her searched from stem to stern. Not a trace of the Prince -could be found.” - -“Extraordinary! I suppose the news was received by wireless. Does the -paper suggest an explanation?” - -“None whatsoever. I thought you'd be interested. Perhaps you'd like to -read for yourself.” - -The paper contained the bare fact as the clergyman had stated it. “A -complete search was made. All his personal belongings were found intact, -but of the Prince himself not a trace.” - -Hindwood closed his eyes and pretended to sleep that he might protect -himself from further intrusions. He wanted to argue his way through this -problem and to acquit Santa of any share in what had happened. And yet, -if an investigation were held and he himself had to tell all he knew, -things would look black for her. Was that why----? - -He tried to crush the ugly thought, but it clamored to be expressed. -Was that why she had made love to him--that her kiss might seal his lips -with silence? - -The train was slowing down. He opened his eyes. In the cheerfulness of -sunshine life took on a more normal aspect. Towering above crowded roofs -of houses, a tall cathedral pricked the blueness of the sky. - -“Where are we?” - -The clergyman was collecting his bundles. “Exeter--where I alight.” - -As soon as he had the carriage to himself, before any one could enter, -he reached up to the rack and quickly removed the _Ryndam_ labels from -his bag. Having done that, he stepped to the platform and went in search -of papers. The torn labels were still in his hand. Surreptitiously he -dropped them between the train and the platform, some distance lower -down than his own carriage. He realized the stealth he had employed only -when Exeter was left behind. - -“Ridiculous!” he shrugged his shoulders. “It's getting on my nerves.” - -In his most recently acquired batch of papers he found no reference to -the topic which absorbed him. At the time when the London press had been -published, the disappearance of the Prince had not been known to the -world. - -Throughout the journey, at every fresh stopping-place, he repeated the -performance, dashing down platforms in quest of newsboys and purchasing -copies of every journal on sale. He caught himself continually eyeing -his bag to make sure that he really had removed all labels. He began -to feel as if he himself were the criminal. In his intentions he was -already an accessory after the fact. Whether Santa was innocent or -guilty, at all costs he had determined to shield her. - -Through the late summer afternoon, as he drew nearer to London, his -suspense began to die. He was getting the later editions now; none of -them so much as mentioned the affair. In Plymouth and Bristol it had -probably been of local importance. He took courage to smile. What a -coward dread can make of an honest man! - -Afternoon was fading into the gold of evening when they steamed into -Paddington. By making haste he could just reach the American Embassy -before closing time. It was likely that several communications had -been addressed to him there. He had cabled ahead to the Ritz for a -reservation. It wouldn't take him far out of his direction to call at -the Embassy on the way to his hotel. - -In the stir and bustle of familiar London, the nightmare of the voyage -grew vague. He stepped from the carriage like a man awaking. It thrilled -him with happy surprise to discover the old gray city, plumed with smoke -and smiling, waiting unchanged beneath his feet to welcome him. The very -smell of mingled gasoline and horses from the cab-ranks was reassuring. -Every sight that his eyes encountered made him feel respectable. - -“Any luggage, sir?” It was a porter accosting him. - -“Yes. Two trunks. At least, I guess they're on this train.” - -“Which van, sir?” - -“The one from Plymouth.” Then, with conscious bravado, he added: “I'm -from the _Ryndam_. You'll recognize them by the Holland-American tags.” - -The porter had gone to secure a barrow. While Hindwood waited, gazing -about him idly, his eyes were startled by a news-placard bearing the -following legend: - - -DISAPPEARANCE OF A PRINCE - - -FOUL PLAY SUSPECTED - - -He swayed, as though he had been struck by a bullet. He glanced round -feverishly, fearing lest he might espy another placard stating, “Santa -Gorlof Arrested.” But no--for the moment she was safe. He thanked God -for the touring-car and the forethought of the foreign gentleman who -could speak no English. - -Quickly he began to readjust his plans. If he went to claim his trunks, -there was no telling by whom he might be met--newspaper men, detectives, -officials from the Foreign Office. Moreover, Santa's trunks were in the -van. When he had explained himself, he might be called upon to account -for her absence. There was only one thing for him to do: for her sake he -must get out of England. If he delayed, he might be prevented. It would -be unwise for him to go to the Ritz; he must spend the night at some -obscure hotel. The only place to which he might be traced was the -Embassy; but he would have to risk that--it was of the utmost importance -that he should pick up his communications. - -He was on the point of making good his escape, when the porter trundled -up with his barrow. - -“Hi, mister! Where are you goin'? I'll be needin' you to identify 'em.” - -“I know you will.” Hindwood turned on him a face which was flustered. -“But I've just remembered I have an engagement. I'll send for them -later. It'll make no difference to you; here's what I should have paid -you.” - -The man, having inspected it carefully, pocketed the half-crown. “It -won't take long,” he suggested; “me and the barrow's ready. And it won't -cost you nothink, seein' as how you've paid me.” - -“No time.” - -Without more ado, he made a dash for the nearest taxi. “As fast as you -like,” he told the driver; “the faster, the bigger your fare.” - -He fled out of the station at a forbidden rate, but after half a mile -the taxi halted against the curb. Lowering the window, he looked out. - -“What's the matter? Something wrong with your engine?” - -“We ain't been follered. You can calm down,” the driver assured him -soothingly. “Wot's wrong is that you ain't told me no address.” - -“Stupid of me! The American Embassy.” - -At the Embassy, having explained his errand, he was requested to wait. -Then, rather to his surprise, instead of having his letters handed -to him, he was shown into a handsome room where, at the far end, a -gray-haired man was seated, sorting papers behind a large mahogany -table. - -Hindwood crossed the room and held out his hand. - -“I'm Philip Hindwood, the railroad expert. I guess you've heard of me. -I called in case there was some mail for me. I had no intention of -troubling you personally.” - -“I'm glad you've come,” said the gray-haired man gravely. “If you hadn't -troubled me, I should have had to trouble you. There have been inquiries -for you. They have to do with a woman who goes by the name of Santa -Gorlof. The police thought you might know something about her. It seems -she's wanted.” - - - - -CHAPTER THE SECOND--THE RETURN OF SANTA GORLOF - - -I - - -SO Santa was “wanted!” Why she was wanted Hindwood did not dare to -question. And the police thought he could tell them something! He could, -but it would be something to put them off her track. After kissing a -woman, it wasn't likely he'd betray her. She might have committed every -crime on the calendar; it would make no difference. He had learned his -code of honor on the outskirts of civilization, where law is more often -defied than obeyed. By his standards of chivalry, after what had passed -between them, he had no option but to play the game by her. What did -they think he knew? Why should they think he knew anything? - -He masked his anxiety with seeming unconcern. Without his assistance, -they could make little headway. He must let fall no hint that would -suggest a sentimental interest in her fortunes. He would be spied -on--probably he had been spied on already. For all he knew, the -clergyman in the train, the porter at Paddington, the taxi-driver who -had assured him that he wasn't followed, were detectives. Henceforward -he must live his life normally and in public, doing everything to disarm -suspicion. Any divergence from his usual habits, such as staying in -obscure quarters or canceling engagements that he might escape to the -Continent, would create the impression that he was possessed of guilty -knowledge. If he had to speak of her, he must refer to her as a charming -acquaintance and profess horror that such a charge should have been -brought against her. - -Following this line, he left the Embassy with the promise that he would -consult with the police at their earliest convenience. From there he -drove to the Ritz, adhering to arrangements made before this sinister -thing had happened. To avoid being waylaid, he went straight to his -rooms, having ordered his trunks to be fetched from the station and his -dinner to be served in his apartment. - -The suite allotted him was one which he had occupied on several previous -occasions. It soothed his ruffled pride to discover that his preferences -had been remembered. From the front windows he could gaze down -Piccadilly; from the side he could watch the green park, a lake of jade, -imprisoned between walls of granite. In the panes facing westward a -fairy city hung poised, tipped with flame and ensanguined by the sunset. - -Leisurely he set to work to bathe and shave, stretching out the ritual -and reveling in the recovery of his self-respect. Slowly the sunset -faded. Before he had made an end, the golden September dusk was drifting -down. In the twilight he stretched himself on the bed, waiting for -his trunks with his wardrobe to arrive. He felt that he could face the -police with much more calmness if he was clad in the respectability of -evening dress. - -He must have dozed, for the room was completely dark when he was brought -to his feet by the sharp ringing of the telephone. As he fumbled for -the receiver, he thought, “Well, I've a good reason for not seeing them. -Pajamas aren't dignified.” - -Aloud he said: “Yes. Quite correct--Mr. Hind-wood. Yes, the Mr. Hindwood -who's just landed from the _Ryndam_. You traced me by my trunks! You -were expecting I'd claim them in person! The man from the Ritz is -there! That's all right. Thank you for telling me. What was my -reason?--Certainly not. I was avoiding no one. What did you say you -were?--A newspaper-man!--I guess not. I've nothing to tell--no. That's -final.” - -He had scarcely hung up when the bell commenced ringing again. The next -half-hour was spent in refusing to be interviewed by invisible persons. -It seemed as though every journalist in London were waiting in queue -to get on to him. Some were suave, some bullying; all were persistent. -Didn't he know that he owed it to the public to say something? If a list -of questions was submitted to him, would he make a written statement? - -To cut the clamor short, he instructed the hotel operator to allow no -one to speak with him who would not state his business. For the rest of -the evening he was “out” to any one who had to do with the press. After -that the telephone grew quiet. - -He switched on the lights. As he did so, he noticed that he was -trembling with excitement. He was furious. This assault had made -him aware of the unseen wall of hostility by which he and Santa were -surrounded. She hadn't a chance; the whole of organized society was -against her. The odds were brutally unfair. Nothing that she had done -could warrant such unsportsmanly cruelty. So far it had not been proved -that she had done anything, yet every one was willing to prejudge her. -The pursuit was cowardly. Whether he loved her did not matter. It was -a problem in knight-errantry: to protect her he was willing to risk all -that he was and had. - -The arrival of his trunks gave him something else to think about. When -he was dressed, he felt ready for every emergency. After all, he was not -the criminal. - -He had his dinner spread against a window from which he could watch the -arc-lights of Piccadilly strung across the night like a rope of pearls. -He tried to be persuaded that he was enjoying himself. If the police -didn't call on him within the hour, he would saunter out to a music-hall -and rub shoulders with the crowd. - -But would he? To what purpose? He would have to go alone, as he always -went. It would be different if she were with him. The last nine days had -spoiled him for loneliness; they had taught him the romance of a woman's -friendship. And yet, not friendship--she had asked for his affection. -All his life he had craved to give his love to some woman. Until he had -met Santa, his craving had been denied. No woman had seemed to care. -Because of that, in spite of success, he had reckoned himself a failure. -He had attained everything--power, position, wealth--everything except -his desire. There had been moments on the voyage when it had seemed to -him that his goal was in sight. - -If she were to tap on his door, how would he greet her? If she did, it -would be like her; she could always be counted on to do the unexpected. -He told himself that he would ask her no questions. He would not upbraid -her. He would comfort her in the way that she understood best. When the -police came to interrogate him, he would place his arm about her and -answer: - -“Gentlemen, if it is Santa Gorlof you are seeking, she is here. I have -asked her to be my wife.” The scene as he conjured it was worthy -of Dumas; he was thrilled by the gallantry of his imagination. His -ponderings were cut short by a sharp rap. He sprang to his feet; it -almost seemed that his dream was to be realized. The rap was repeated. -Outside the door a page was standing. - -“There's a gentleman downstairs. He won't give his name. He says you -left word, sir, at the American Embassy, that you would be willing to -see him.” - -“Show him up.” - - -II - - -Leaving the door ajar, he drew a chair to his desk and commenced -rummaging through a pile of documents. He planned to create the -impression that he regarded this visit as of small importance. He was -anxious, even at the risk of appearing vulgar, to be discovered in the -rôle of an American money-lord, every second of whose time represented -dollars--the kind of man who was too influential to be bulldozed by the -police methods of a country whose citizenship he did not share. He urged -himself into a mood of contempt by recalling the beefy caricatures which -pass currency in English fiction for veracious portraits of Scotland -Yard detectives. This fellow would look like a constable off duty. When -he sat down, he would bulge at the neck and mop his forehead with a -multicolored handkerchief. He would be awed by elegance into sulky -stupidity--but would become pompously affable when offered a cigar. - -“May I enter?” The door creaked. - -“Surely. Come in. But you must excuse me for a moment.” Hindwood spoke -without turning. He pretended to be sorting the last of his documents. -The cultured tone of the voice had surprised him. Perhaps, after all, -his guest might not be a detective. - -“Sorry to keep you. Time's valuable. My stay in England is short. There, -that's finished. What can I do for you?” He pushed back his chair and -rose to face his guest. - -If the man's intonation had surprised him, his appearance amazed him -still more. He could have passed for the colonel of a crack cavalry -regiment. His bearing was erect and dapper. His dark lounge suit, with -the light stripes running through it, was so smartly tailored that one -was apt to suspect that he was corseted. His hair was white, his cheeks -tanned, his manner cheerful and commanding. He was of less than medium -height. With his bristling mustache and pointed imperial he bore a -distinct resemblance to Lord Roberts of Kandahar. - -Hindwood held out his hand with undisguised relief. “Won't you sit down, -sir? I'm afraid I must have seemed discourteous. The truth is, I was -expecting some one quite different. The boy didn't announce your name or -business.” - -The stranger accepted his hand with an ironic smile. He did not sit -down. Instead he asked a question. “Wouldn't it be wise to shut the -door?” Without waiting for permission, he went to the door and closed -it. Before he closed it, he glanced out into the passage. Having -regained the middle of the room, he gazed searchingly about him. - -“No one here who can listen?” - -Again taking matters into his own hands, he made a swift and thorough -investigation, peering into the bathroom, stabbing draperies with his -cane as with a sword, feeling behind clothes in cupboards. He left no -corner uninspected in which an eavesdropper might be secreted. Last of -all he approached the window near which Hindwood had dined. For a few -seconds he stood there, staring down into the well of blackness and -the mysterious fairyland of shifting lights. Laying aside his hat and -gloves, but still retaining his cane, he remarked: - -“Beautiful! Very beautiful! Exquisite with the witchery of a woman's -face, which masks a hidden wickedness!” - -Hindwood had been regarding him in silence. “I have yet to learn your -name and business,” he reminded him. - -The stranger chuckled. “My name! I have almost forgotten it. I assume -so many. As for my business, I'm a secret service agent in the employ of -the British Government.” - -“Have you credentials?” - -“A letter.” - -He produced from his breast pocket an envelope, containing this message, -typed on American Embassy notepaper, “This will serve to introduce the -gentleman who is anxious to consult you on the subject of which we spoke -this afternoon.” - -“Satisfactory?” - -“Quite. Perhaps now you'll be seated. If you smoke, I can recommend -these cigars.” - -Again the stranger, with unruffled urbanity, betrayed his alert -independence. “If you have no objection, I prefer my own.” - -“As you like.” Hindwood was determined to conduct the interview along -the lines of social politeness. Selecting a cigar himself, he notched -the end. “I'm entirely at your disposal. There's little I can tell. -I suppose the subject on which you're anxious to consult me is what -happened on the _Ryndam_?” - -“Yes and no.” The stranger puffed leisurely for a few moments. “The -answer is yes, if by 'what happened on the _Ryndam_ you mean Santa -Gorlof.” - - -III - - -Santa Gorlof?” Hindwood feigned surprise. “A very charming lady!” - -The shrewd face puckered in a smile. The gray eyes grew piercing beneath -the beetling, white brows. “So I've been given to understand. She has a -way with the men, has our Santa. Even Prince Rogovich, old hand that he -was, fell for her. I believe that's your expressive phrase in America. -He fell for her in every sense, especially when she pushed him -overboard.” - -Hindwood frowned. He realized that a cat-and-mouse game had commenced, -in which he had been allotted the rôle of mouse. He resented the levity -with which Santa's name had been mentioned. If the man was in earnest, -the matter was too terrible for jest. Though he had harbored the same -suspicion, to hear it stated as a fact appalled him. The charge sounded -dastardly, spoken in that pleasant voice by this courtly English -gentleman who was old enough to be her father. - -With an effort he kept command of his composure. “Of course you're -joking?” - -“Not in the least.” - -“Then, in plain American, you're accusing a beautiful and fascinating -woman of murder.” - -“Of what else?” - -Hindwood shrugged his shoulders. “Pardon my density. I didn't catch on. -It was your appearance misled me; you look so much a gentleman.” - -“I flatter myself that there are occasions when I am.” - -“Then I guess we'll have to reckon this occasion an exception. I might -remind you that it's a woman you're accusing and that the penalty for -murder is death. Scarcely a subject to make merry over with a play upon -words!” - -“And you're reminding me,” the stranger added gently, “that, if she's -a woman, you and I are men. You're trying to tell me that, if my -supposition is correct, then all that ravishing caprice that we know -as Santa Gorlof will have to be ruthlessly blotted out. Possibly you're -picturing, as so many of her victims have pictured before you, the -wealth of happiness that might be yours if you could win her for -yourself.” - -Hindwood's hand trembled as he flicked his ash. “My dear sir,” he -drawled, “I'm not twenty. I'm a hard-bitten man of the world. You credit -me with too much romance. In your profession you're trained to spin -theories. Please leave me out; stick to your assertion. You come to me, -accusing a woman of my acquaintance--I can hardly call her a friend--of -having committed murder. The charge sounds preposterous. Why you should -come to me at all I can not guess. Before we go further, I have a right -to ask a question: is this mere conjecture or can you prove it?” - -“I can prove it.” The stranger paused, studying the despair his words -had caused. “I can prove it.” Then he added, “If you'll help.” - -“If I'll perjure myself.” Scowling, Hindwood leaped to his feet. “That -was what you meant. At your time of life I should have thought you could -have found a less infamous way of gaining your livelihood. There's your -hat, and there's the door.” The mocking old gentleman went through the -dumb show of clapping his applause. He settled himself more deeply in -his chair. When he spoke, it was with the lazy good-humor of a man at -his club. “You fill me with admiration. Your last attitude was superb. -I have only one criticism to offer of your play-acting; by letting your -cigar go out, you betrayed the perturbation you were trying to -disguise. It's been dead three minutes.” He raised his hand, delaying -interruption. “Don't be angry. I'm not doubting your momentary -sincerity. But think back and then own that you also have suspected that -she's guilty.” - -“Never.” - -“Humph! Your memory must be faulty. Allow me to prompt you with a few -facts.” - -Then and there, without hesitation or boasting, he detailed to Hindwood -all his actions, from his departure from the _Ryndam_ to the moment -when he had arrived at the Embassy. Hindwood listened to the narration -dumfounded. - -“So you see,” he concluded, “if I can tell you so much as this, there -is probably much more that I could tell. You've been infatuated by a -she-wolf. What she did to Prince Rogovich, she has done to at least -a dozen of her admirers. She would have done the same to you. Because -there have been moments when you thought you loved her, you're unwilling -to hand her over to justice. You're even willing to risk your own good -name in her defense. It's sports-manly of you, but she's undeserving -of your loyalty. When you know the truth, you'll thank your lucky stars -that I came to-night.” - - -IV - - -Hindwood's face had gone ashen--not through fear for his own safety, -but for hers. He was determined not to believe a word of what he -had heard, and yet he was curious to learn. There was such an air of -complete conviction about the stranger; it was impossible to doubt the -integrity of his intentions. What he hoped was to discover some flaw in -his logic. Sinking back into his chair, he stared in silence at the man -who believed he knew everything. - -Remembering that his cigar had gone out, he commenced searching through -his pockets for a match. - -“They're at your elbow,” the stranger informed him. “No, not there. On -the table. I've upset you more than I intended.” - -Again they lapsed into silence. - -At last Hindwood said: “I owe you an apology. I've been insulting, but -the blame is partly yours. You didn't explain yourself; you withheld -your identity. I was expecting a kind of policeman. But I think you -understand. Anyhow, I regret my rudeness. Now tell me, who are you?” - -“I'm Major Cleasby, formerly of the Indian Army. My main hobby is -studying the Asiatic.” Hindwood looked up sharply. He remembered the -impression Santa had made on him, that if her eyes had been darker, she -could have passed for a Hindoo princess. - -“I don't see what studying the Asiatic has to do with the disappearance -of Prince Rogovich,” he said. “If we're going to arrive anywhere, what -we need is frankness. I think you ought to understand my side of the -affair.” - -The Major nodded. - -“Then, to start with, I'm unmarried--not that I'm a woman-hater, but my -life has been too packed with important undertakings to leave me much -time to spare on women. I've been a kind of express, stopping only at -cities and rushing by all the villages. On the _Ryndam_ I was forced to -come to rest; it so happened that Santa Gorlof was the village at -which I halted. The _Ryndam_, as you know, isn't one of these floating -palaces; she doesn't attract the flashy type of traveler. The company -on this last voyage was dull--dull to the point of tears. The Prince and -Santa Gorlof were the two exceptions. I got to know her first and the -Prince later. It was I who introduced her to him. We were each of us a -bit stand-offish at first; we drifted together against our wills, in an -attempt to escape from boredom. Then we began to expect each other, till -finally--We were two men and a woman, with nothing to distract us; -it's an old story--the usual thing happened. I suppose you'd call it a -three-cornered flirtation in which the Prince and I were rivals. - -“At first Santa was strictly impartial; toward the end it was the Prince -she favored. I'm afraid I got huffy, which was distinctly childish, for -none of us was serious. We were two men and a beautiful woman at loose -ends, rather dangerously amusing ourselves. At Plymouth, if things had -terminated normally, we should have come to our senses and gone our -separate ways. At most we should have said good-by on reaching London. -In none of our dealings had there been the least hint of anything -serious--nothing that would suggest a love-affair. Speaking for myself, -my interest in Santa had been on the wane for several days before we -landed. I should have parted with her on the dock without compunction, -if this extraordinary disappearance hadn't occurred. It was that that -again drew us together. Neither of us was willing to believe the worst; -we both tried to persuade ourselves that he'd changed his plans at the -last moment. At the same time we were both a little anxious lest we -might be bothered with questions and detained. Probably it was to avoid -any such annoyance that she dodged her breakfast engagement with me and -escaped so early this morning.” - -The Major thrust himself forward, resting his chin on the handle of his -cane. “That wasn't her reason.” - -“You're presuming her guilt. Why wasn't it?” - -“You forget the foreigner who wore goggles and pretended he couldn't -speak English. She couldn't possibly have sent him word. The necessity -for her escape must have been foreseen and the means prearranged.” - -Hindwood puzzled to find some more innocent explanation. “He might have -been her husband.” - -“He wasn't.” - -“You speak as though you knew everything.” Then, with a catch in his -breath, “She isn't arrested?” - -“If she were, I shouldn't tell you.” - -“Then what makes you so positive that he wasn't her husband?” - -The Major drew himself erect, smiling palely. “Because _I_ am her -husband.” - - -V - - -Hindwood rose and moved over to the window. He felt mentally stifled. -He leaned out, gazing down into the pool of blackness, along whose -floor, like the phosphorescence of fishes, lights drifted and darted. -The sight of so much coolness quieted him. When he turned, the Major had -not moved a muscle; he was sitting as he had left him, erect and palely -smiling. - -“You'll not be surprised when I tell you, Major Cleasby, that your last -piece of information completely overwhelms me. You come to me in the -rôle of a secret service agent, and now you claim to be her husband.” - -“I'm both.” - -“Do you mean me to understand that you're accumulating the evidence that -will convict your wife?” - -“Convict her and, I regret to say, hang her. Stated baldly, that is my -purpose.” - -Hindwood perched himself on the window ledge and regarded his guest -intently. He didn't look a monster; he looked in all respects a kindly, -well-bred gentleman, and yet, if what he had just heard was correct, -there were few monsters in history who could compare with him. Hindwood -tried to picture him as Santa's husband. He couldn't. He was thankful -that he couldn't. For a reason which he did not distress himself to -analyze, he didn't wish to believe that she had ever had a husband. As -for the hints about her criminal record and her many lovers, he utterly -rejected them. Was it likely that a woman so royal and aloof could have -stooped to the gutter? But if these accusations were not true, what was -their object? Either it was a case of mistaken identity and there were -two Santa Gorlofs, or the object was to infuriate him with jealousy so -that he would blurt out all he knew. - -He eyed the Major doubtfully. He wasn't insane. He didn't look a rascal. -And yet, what husband in his senses----? He began to notice details. - -The Major was less old than he had fancied at first; he was more worn -than aged. Illness or tragedy might have whitened him. It was even -possible that he had made himself up for the part he was playing. His -eyes were clear, and his hands virile. With the mustache and imperial -removed---- - -“Major Cleasby, you ask me to accept a great deal on your bare word,” - he said politely. “You come to me with nothing to introduce you but the -most briefly formal letter. The moment you enter my room, before you'll -have anything to do with me, you inspect every hiding-place as though -I were a counterfeiter or an anarchist. You boldly announce to me that -ever since I landed in England you've had me followed and observed. You -use the results of your spying as a kind of blackmail to induce me to -present you with the sort of evidence for which you're searching. You -trick me into telling you about a shipboard flirtation with a woman whom -you say you want convicted of murder. No sooner have I told you, than -you declare that you yourself are married to her. I ought to refuse to -allow this interview to go further without calling in a lawyer. I don't -mean to be offensive, but your kaleidoscopic changes put a strain on my -credulity. I can't believe your story that you're a secret service agent -endeavoring to get your wife executed. When men tire of matrimony, they -find less ingenious methods of recovering their bachelorhood.” - -The Major smiled with his patient air of affability. “It isn't my -bachelorhood that I'm trying to recover. It's my----” - -“If you don't mind,” Hindwood cut in, “I'd like to finish my say first. -One of the things that you may not have learned is that I'm here on a -mission of international dimensions. It concerns more than one of the -governments of Europe. I can't afford to have my name mixed up in a -scandal and, what's more, I can bring influences to bear to prevent it -from being introduced. You may be anything you like; whatever you are -cuts no ice. I'm through with you and with whatever you may imagine took -place on the _Ryndam_. You seem to think that I'm concealing a guilty -knowledge that would enable you to bring this Gorlof woman to trial. -You're on the wrong tack. I have no such knowledge. The longer you -stay here, the more you waste my time.” The Major was on the point of -answering when the telephone rang shrilly. Grateful for a diversion, -Hindwood crossed the room. As he unhooked the receiver, he glanced -across his shoulder, “Excuse me.” - -“Is this Mr. Hindwood?” - -“It is.” - -It was the hotel operator asking. - -“There's a call for you, sir. It's from some one who's not on a -newspaper. Will you take it?” - -“Certainly.” - -There was a pause while the connection was being made; then a foreign -voice, a woman's, questioned, “Eees thees Meester Hindwood? Eef you -please, one meenute. A lady wants to talk wiz you.” - -Coming across the distance, subdued and earnest, he caught the tones of -a voice which was instantly familiar. - -“Don't be startled. Don't answer me. There's a man with you. Tell him -nothing. If you ever loved me, even for a second, don't believe a word -he says.” - -She had not been arrested! A wave of joy swept over him. The uncertainty -as to whether she was arrested had been crushing him. - -He waited, hoping she would speak again. - -Shattering the spell with a touch of bathos, the operator inquired, -“Number?” - -With that he rang off. As he raised his head, he had the uncomfortable -sensation that the Major had turned away from watching him. - - -VI - - -So you want to be rid of me!” The Major glanced across his shoulder, at -the same time making no effort to remove himself. - -Hindwood crossed the room thoughtfully and seated himself. “I've made no -secret of it from the moment you entered.” - -The Major laughed genially. “I don't blame you. You think I'm a wronged -husband trying to get even, or else an unscrupulous detective baiting -traps with falsehoods. The situation's unpleasant--for you, especially.” - -“I'm glad you realize it.” - -“I assure you I do. You've given yourself away completely.” - -“You think so?” - -“I don't think; I know. What you've told me proves beyond a doubt that -you're possessed of exactly the knowledge that would bring Santa Gorlof -to trial.” - -“You're imaginative.” - -“I'm observant. You're wondering what makes me so certain. The -explanation's simple: I've studied Santa's tactics. Her strategy's the -same in every instance. When a man suspects her guilt, she does what she -did to you: seals his mouth with kisses.” - -“This is too much.” Hindwood brought his fist down with a bang. “Do you -go or do I have to force you?” - -“This time I'll try one of yours.” - -With astounding assurance the Major helped himself to one of Hindwood's -cigars, which he had previously rejected. Without bravado he lighted -it and, having ascertained that it was drawing, continued: “If you used -force, you'd regret it. You'd make certain of the unwelcome publicity -you're so anxious to avoid; you'd miss a stranger story than any Arabian -tale that ever was concocted. You think you can still touch bottom; as -a matter of fact you're already out of sight of land. You sit there -looking an average, successful American; actually you've become an -heroic figure, adrift upon an ocean so romantic and uncharted that it -beats upon the cliffs of every human passion.” - -Hindwood shifted uneasily. “So you're a fortuneteller in addition to -being an ill-used husband and a detective!” - -Ignoring his sarcasm, the Major proceeded: “Some time ago you accused me -of ingenuity in the means I had adopted to recover my bachelorhood. It's -not my bachelorhood, but my own and my country's honor that, with -your help, I'm endeavoring to recover. That sounds extravagant? But -consider--what motive could be sufficiently extravagant to compel a man -to bend all his energies toward bringing the woman whom he loves to the -scaffold? Because I say it calmly, you doubt that I love her. What man -could help loving her? She's the last of a long line of false, fair -women who've stirred up madness and left behind a trail of ruin.” - -Rising wearily, Hindwood turned his back and commenced fingering the -documents on his desk. “There'll be nothing gained by carrying this -discussion further.” - -With a question the Major recaptured his attention. “Did it ever strike -you that she's partly Asiatic?” - -Hindwood swung round, surprised into truth. “What makes you ask it?” - - -VII - - -Even to myself,” the Major sighed, “the story which I am about to tell -sounds incredible. My reason for confiding it to a stranger is that, -when you have heard it, you may dispense with chivalry and become stern -enough to do your duty. To protect a woman, whatever her age or -looks, is an instinct as primitive as religion. When she happens to be -beautiful and the object of your affection, not to protect her is a -kind of blasphemy. You and I, though you deny it, are both in love -with Santa. I am her husband, while you are no more than her chance-met -admirer. Yet you, in her hour of danger, are prepared to shield her with -your honor, whereas I am among the most relentless of her pursuers. - -“The best part of my life has been spent in India. I went there with -my regiment when I was little more than a boy. The fascination of an -ancient civilization took possession of my imagination. I became a -student of it and soon acquired a knowledge of native habits which was -more fitting to a secret agent than to a soldier. I learned to speak -many dialects and could pass myself off as an Asiatic with the minimum -amount of disguise. Instead of frequenting clubs and idling away my -leisure in the usual round of social futilities which make up the -average Anglo-Indian's life, I formed the practice of slipping out into -the night and losing my identity in the teeming, Oriental shadow-world -by which I was surrounded. - -“On one of my wanderings--when or where it is not necessary to -particularize--I strolled into a temple and saw a young girl dancing. As -perhaps you know, girls are dedicated to the worship of certain gods and -goddesses at a very early age. They are for the most part deities who -symbolize fecundity; the ritual with which they are celebrated is gross. -The temple girls are chosen for their beauty and are trained by the -priesthood to perform sensual dances, which are as old as time. They -are not nuns or priestesses; their social status, if they may be said to -have any in a land where woman is at best a plaything, approximates to -that of temple slaves. They are taken from their parents at an age when -sahibs' children are in nurseries. From the moment they are dedicated, -their minds and souls are left to stagnate; they are treated like -performing animals--fed and drilled and degraded that they may employ -their bodies with the utmost grace. - -“This girl, the moment I saw her, impressed me as being the most -fascinating human creature I had ever set eyes on. I had pressed in with -the crowd from the evil-smelling, moonlit street. The temple was dim -with the smoke of swaying censers. Its walls seemed vast with the flash -of gold and jewels. At the far end, scarcely discernible, a huge god -squatted, gloating and sinister. From somewhere in the shadows, swelling -into frenzy, came the pounding of drums and the clash of barbaric music. -Across the open pavement, between the god and the spectators, a chain of -girls coiled and twisted like a snake. - -“At the time I entered, the dance was nearly ended. It had evidently -been going on for a long while. One by one the girls were slipping down -exhausted. There they lay disordered, with their hair twined about them -and their slim, bronze bodies twitching. - -“But one girl danced on, ever quickening her pace, till she alone -remained. She was like a streak of flame, a will-o'-the-wisp, a spring -petal blown before the wind: she seemed the symbol of everything that -is young and pagan. Her childish face was masked in an unchanging smile. -Her lips were parted; her body gleamed golden among the muted lights. -She stooped and darted like a lizard across her fallen comrades; with -one leap she floated through the air, perched for a moment on the knees -of the god, and vanished into his bosom. Instantly the censers were -extinguished, and I was carried out into the evil-smelling street by the -rush of the perspiring crowd. - -“From that night it was as though I were bewitched. There was never an -hour when that drifting blossom of a girl was absent from my mind. I -idealized her into a nobility that was more than earthly. I flung -aside all sense of caste and race. I forgot that I was a sahib and over -thirty, whereas she was a dancing girl and little more than a child. I -excused my infatuation on the ground of magnanimity, telling myself that -if I could possess her, I could save her from certain degradation. Above -all, I wanted to wipe out her houri's smile and to cause the soul to -appear in her eyes. Every hour that I could spare, I disguised myself as -a native and haunted the temple. At rare intervals I caught glimpses of -her. And so six months went by. - -“Gradually my desire strengthened into determination. I was insane with -chivalry--utterly quixotic, as quixotic as you are now. I had raised her -to such a pinnacle of worship that a liaison was not to be contemplated. -What I planned was to carry her off and marry her. When you remember -the gulf which the Anglo-Indian places between himself and the races he -governs, you can estimate the measure of my madness. Such an act would -entail resigning from my regiment and inviting social ostracism on every -hand. It meant ruin, but to my impassioned mind no price seemed too high -to pay. - -“There was an old priest who, unknown to me, had observed my comings and -goings. One evening he addressed me by name. While I was hesitating as -to what could be his motive, he volunteered to obtain the girl for me if -I would reward him with a sufficient bribe. - -“Three nights later, as I waited, a door in the temple wall opened, and -a muffled figure emerged. Without a word, obeying the instructions I had -received, I turned away, and she followed. Through the sleeping city we -crept, like a pair of shadows. - -“In the European quarter I had secretly rented a bungalow which had long -been deserted. It stood in a wilderness of overgrown shrubberies; a high -wall went about it. Not until the rusty gate had closed behind us did I -dare to acknowledge her presence; then, taking her in my arms, I carried -her up the path to the unlighted house. We entered. There were just the -two of us; I had not risked engaging servants. In the darkness I set her -down and lighted a lamp. As the flame quickened and I knelt beside her, -she uncovered her face. So far, I had seen her only distantly. It was -the moment for which I had waited. Her face was white.” - -The Major passed his hand across his forehead. His lips tightened. He -betrayed every sign of a man doing his best to conceal an overpowering -emotion. He leaned back and gazed up at the ceiling, blowing out a cloud -of smoke. When he had watched it disperse, he turned to Hindwood with a -deprecating smile. - -“I hope I don't bore you. I'll omit the ardors and ecstasies of my -love-affair and stick to the bare outline. What I discovered was that -she was an Eurasian. She was fourteen years of age--a woman by Indian -standards, but still a child by ours. Her eyes were gray, and her -complexion was so light that, with any one but an expert, she could have -passed for a European. There are millions of darkhaired women with her -coloring to be found in any Latin country. Given the proper manners and -a European setting, scarcely a soul would have suspected her. Certainly -no one would dare to voice his suspicions who met her as my wife. - -“Her history I pieced together from many conversations. Her father had -been a tea-planter--an Englishman of good family. Her mother had been -a Burmese. They both had died in a cholera epidemic; their half-caste -child had been picked up from the highways and placed in the temple. - -“Seeing that I was out to be chivalrous, I made up my mind to do the -thing thoroughly. I hurried up a furlough that was due me and, taking -her to France, placed her in a convent. My reason for choosing France -was that, when she became my wife, there would be fewer chances of -discovery if she passed as French instead of English. In the south, -especially in Provence, there are many women of her type descended from -the Saracens. If you've been to Arles, you must have noticed them. At -the end of three years, when she was seventeen, I returned, married her, -and took her back to India. If any one detected the deception, no one -was bold enough to proclaim it. Every circumstance argued against such -a surmise. She had forgotten much of the English she had known, and -pretended to speak only French. I had coached her in her part; she acted -it to perfection. By no hint or sign did she let the knowledge escape -her that she could understand a word of any native dialect. So far as I -am aware, she was accepted at her face value, as a young Provençal whom -I had courted in her own country. - -“For some time my romantic folly brought us nothing but happiness. We -invented a legend to account for her family, which, through continual -repetition, we almost came to believe ourselves. No two people were ever -more in love. Despite our difference in age and the racial gulf which -divided us, no man and woman ever seemed more wisely mated. Apparently -whatever shameful knowledge she had acquired in the temple had been -blotted out by her superimposed refinement. Even to me she betrayed no -hint of grossness; she appeared to be as sweet and innocent as the girl -I claimed her to be--the girl I said I had surprised in the passionless -tranquility of a French convent. - -“Her devotion to myself was pathetic--it verged on adoration. She was -continually contriving new ways of rewarding me for the horrors from -which I had saved her. To me the ground she trod was sacred. I delighted -in making myself her slave. We competed with each other in generosity. -With each of us the other's slightest whim was law. She was unbelievably -beautiful, the most mysteriously beautiful woman in India. I was more -than twice her years and the envy of every man who saw her. Her beauty -seemed only the outshining of her goodness. Save for an accident, I -should never have known otherwise. - -“We had been married two years when she bore me a child. Our dread, when -we knew that she was to become a mother, was that our offspring might -reveal the Asiatic strain. We took every precaution to hide the fact, if -this should happen. But even this was spared us. Our boy was blue-eyed -and flaxen-haired as any Anglo-Saxon. She worshiped him. He seemed to -symbolize Heaven's blessing on the lie we practiced. He was never out of -her sight. In her fear lest he might develop some native characteristic, -she refused to have an _ayah_ and cared for him entirely. Wherever she -went, she kept him with her; he slept in our room at night. So perfectly -had she drilled herself that, up to this point, I can not recall an -instance in which she had fallen below the level of a well-born -white woman. It was the finest instinct in her nature that proved her -undoing--her mother-love that trapped her into the self-revelation which -produced our tragedy. - -“Our child was a sturdy little fellow of nearly two, just beginning to -run about, when suddenly he died. We had a house-party at the time. His -mother was playing tennis. While she was playing, he was strangled -and thrown down a well by a native servant who believed he had been -slighted. My wife, missing the child, went in search of him in panic and -caught the native in the act of getting rid of the body. Instantly she -reverted to what her mother had been before her. Snatching the man's -knife, she killed him before any of her guests could restrain her. In -the abandonment of her grief, she became an out and out Burmese woman, -scattering dust on her hair, beating her breasts, and rending her -clothes with the wildest lamentations. The fiction of her French origin -was utterly destroyed. There was no longer any doubt among those who -witnessed her that I was married to an Eurasian. - -“Our position at once became intolerable. A halfcaste is despised the -world over, but in India especially. That night every servant left. None -of our friends came near us. We sat alone with our grief in a deserted -house. As her calmness returned, she grew tragically contrite--not -contrite from any moral sense, but because she had given away our -secret. She seemed incapable of appreciating that she had done any wrong -in depriving justice of its victim. When I tried to explain to her that -she had committed a crime, she shook her head impatiently, insisting -that she had done what any mother ought to do under the circumstances. -When I pressed the subject she became persuaded that I, too, was blaming -her, and then that I had never properly loved either her or her child. -And yet I think I never loved her more tenderly than at that moment. - -“A week later, after miserable days and nights of suspense, we received -our sentence. Native sedition was running high. The Government did not -dare to bring the wife of a British officer to trial. Such a course -would have proved too damaging to the prestige of Anglo-Indian -officialdom. I was promised that the scandal would be hushed up and I -should be given a new employment, if I would agree to ship her out of -India at once and to see to it that she never returned. What it amounted -to for me was perpetual separation and for her perpetual banishment. - -“I have often tried to arrive at a sane conclusion as to how far I am -the author of what she has become. Had I shared her banishment there -can be little doubt that her white blood would have kept control of her -poisoned heritage. Unfortunately I had a living to earn. Professionally -I was broken. My savings were inconsiderable. I had her to maintain. I -was past mid-life and by leaving India would have sacrificed the pension -that was already in sight. Moreover, I knew of no way of marketing my -training in any country outside India. So I played safe and bowed -to authority. I resigned from my regiment and was transferred to the -department of military intelligence. After knowing the security of -a home and wife, at past forty I became a secret agent, a spy and a -wanderer, a friendless and unfriendly man, unsociable and socially -unacceptable. As for my wife, aged only twenty-one, she was exiled to -England, a stranger in a gray, chill country, bankrupt in her happiness, -with no one to defend her, taking with her the temptation of her unusual -beauty and the treacherous inheritance of her intermingled blood. - -“There seemed no justice in the world for either of us. The offending -cause of our punishment was the protective motherhood which had prompted -her to slay the killer of our child. But, to use your terse Americanism, -we were 'up against' blind angers and racial prejudices, which no amount -of bucking on our part could change. So far as she was concerned, even -before her life had started, she had been condemned. The initial sin had -been her parents' when they had allowed themselves to create her. Before -she had seen daylight, the uncharity of mankind had proclaimed her a -half-caste and a pariah. From her inherited fate I had tried to -snatch her when I had bought her from the temple. You may say that my -recklessness was nothing more than selfishness, pharisaically parading -as chivalry; in allowing her to bear me a child, I had only reduplicated -the crime of her parents. Nevertheless, I had tried to rescue her and -could have succeeded, had not her mother-love ensnared her. She was -betrayed by the purest instinct in her nature; she was shown no more -leniency than if it had been the basest. There lay the cruelty that -rankled. She was judged not by motives, but by results. She would have -been pardoned and applauded, had she been a full-blooded white woman. - -“In spite of all these accumulated injustices, I believe she would have -retained the strength to go straight had there been any limit to our -separation. There was none. For all the comfort that I could be to her, -I might just as well have been dead or divorced from her. I was all that -remained out of the ruin that had overtaken her, yet the most to which -she could look forward, save for brief meetings at long intervals, was -that I would be restored to her in my useless old age, when the glorious -floodtide of her youth hud receded. You see I am sufficiently unbiased -to be able to plead her case.” - -The Major rose and, going over to the window, stood with his back toward -Hindwood, gazing out into the night. Some minutes had elapsed, when he -turned quietly. - -“Where had I got to? Ah, yes! To where I had to send her to England! I -accompanied her to Calcutta to see her safely on the liner. Shall I ever -forget that journey? It had the gloom of a funeral and the frenzy of -an elopement. Actually my rôle was that of a policeman deporting a -miscreant who happened to be his wife. We tried to pack into moments -the emotions of a lifetime. As background to our love-making was the -poignant memory of the puzzled child, whom seven years earlier I had -escorted on the same journey, _en route_ for France, where she was to -be made over into a sahib's lady. In her wondering attitude toward -the fortunes that assailed her, she was little changed. She was still -startlingly unsophisticated--a child-woman, dangerously credulous and -deceivingly unversed in masculine wiles. I had taught her to be so -dependent that I dared not imagine how she would do without me. She was -so artless. She took such pleasure in admiration. Love was so necessary -to her; it was the breath of her life. Its misuse had been the breath -and the means of life of her Burmese mother before her. - -“Her complete lack of comprehension that I in any way shared her -sacrifice formed the most distressing part of my ordeal. She assumed -that she was being exiled by ray choice. She persisted in talking as -if she could stay, if I would only change my mind. Though she did -not accuse me in words, she believed that I was ridding myself of her -because she had disgraced me--that I was pushing her across the horizon, -where she would be forgotten and out of sight. Up to the last moment -she pleaded with and coaxed me, as though it were I who was refusing -to repeal her sentence. The ship cast off, bearing her from me with her -broken heart and her embittered memories of the newly-dug grave, while I -turned back to ferret through the gutters of Asia, that I might earn the -wherewithal to provide for her. - -“At first she wrote many times a day; then every day; then regularly to -catch each outgoing mail. In the whole of England she knew nobody. In -her anger against British justice she wished to know nobody. She was -inconsolable, bruised in spirit, and crushed in her pride. After the -pomp and hubbub of the East, she found London drab and melancholy. From -her lodgings in Kensington she poured out her soul on paper. Much of -what she wrote consisted of memories, the tender trifles which a mother -treasures about her child. - -“Gradually, almost imperceptibly, there came a change. A querulous note -crept in, a questioning of motives. Why had I sent her as far away as -England? Why had I sent her away at all? If it were true that it was not -I who had exiled her, why had I not accompanied her? Was it because I -was tired and ashamed of her? It would have been kinder to have left her -to dance in the temple. Then a new suspicion grew up, which betrayed an -evil that I had never traced in her. With whom was I living? Some white -woman? Was that why I had rid myself of her? - -“What answers could I make? It was like arguing with a spiteful child. -Our misunderstandings were as wide as the distance that separated us. -She implored and finally demanded that I should join her. The more I -stated obstacles, the more convinced she became that I was cruel, like -all the sahibs who were torturing her--the proud sahibs who thought -nothing of a murdered baby, when it was only the child of a half-caste -woman. - -“From then on her heart hardened, till at last I failed to recognize -in her any resemblance to the gentle wife who had been so much my -companion. She wrote vaguely about revenge, a revenge that should -embrace the whole white race. Contempt should be repaid with despising, -hatred with blows, blood with blood. Her beauty should be the weapon. -She seemed to have gone mad. Suddenly her letters ceased. My remittances -were returned; they had failed to reach her. - -“For what follows I have but one explanation. By some species of -unconscious hypnotism, so long as I had exerted physical influence over -her, I had had the power to make the European in her predominate. As my -influence weakened with time and distance, she relapsed into the woman -she always would have been, if I had not found her: a smiling menace to -the nobilities of both the races from which she was descended, a -human jackal following the hunt. That sounds harsh? Then listen to the -conclusion of my story. - -“One day, six months after I had lost touch with her, I was glancing -through an illustrated weekly when, on turning a page, I found her -portrait gazing up at me. She was photographed in almost the attitude -and attire in which I had first caught sight of her in the temple. The -very setting was similar; behind her the huge god squatted, gloating and -sinister--on her face was the unchanging houri's smile. On reading the -text I discovered that she had leaped into instant fame as an exponent -of Indian dancing. You will remember that in the last two years before -the war the dance craze was at its height. She had been acclaimed a -great artist; everything she said, did, and wore was fulsomely praised -and described. There was no false reticence about either her or her -admirers; she was frankly advertised as being possessed of the most -beautiful body in Europe. She had given herself a French name and -was announced as being of French ancestry. According to her printed -biography, her father had been an orchid-hunter who had taken her with -him on all his expeditions. On his last, in India, he had died; she -had been kidnaped for her beauty and sold into the service of a Hindoo -temple. From this bondage she had been rescued by an Englishman of title -who had chivalrously restored her to her family in Marseilles. There was -much more to the same effect--a jumble of perverted truth and romantic -lies, precisely the kind of adventurous nonsense which appeals to the -sensation-seeking public. - -“From then on, _via_ the press, I was always getting news of her. -London, Paris, Berlin, St. Petersburg, each in turn went mad over her. -She captivated a continent. Kings and emperors commanded her to appear -before them. Her tours were royal triumphs. Little by little ugly rumors -began to spread. There was a Parisian banker who, when he had lavished -his all upon her, committed suicide, leaving his wife and children -penniless. There was another scandal; it had to do with a Russian -general who had betrayed his country. At his court-martial he poisoned -himself when her name was introduced into the evidence. As though a -conspiracy of silence had broken down, now that she began to be gossiped -about, scandals gathered thick and fast. Each new one was more infamous -than the last; out of each she emerged unpitying and smiling. It was -only her victims who suffered. Her progress was marked by a trail of -death and ruin. Nevertheless, infatuated by the exquisiteness of her -body, men fluttered about her unceasingly, like moths, shriveling their -souls in the flame of her fascination. When the peace of the world was -violated by the Germans--” - -Hindwood leaned forward, tapping the Major's knee. “I can spare you -your eloquence. The rest of your story is common property. The woman you -describe stole the Allies' anti-submarine defense plans from her lover. -He was a British naval officer, temporarily in Paris. She was caught -red-handed. There was a sentimental agitation in her favor--an attempt -to argue that as a physical masterpiece of feminine perfection she ought -to be exempted. It accomplished nothing. She was a German spy, who had -sold men's lives for profit. She received and deserved no more mercy -than a rag-picker. After having been encouraged in her sins because -of her unrivaled loveliness, she was led out at dawn in the woods of -Vincennes, where the body which had maddened thousands of eyes was -riddled with bullets.” - -The Major's lips were smiling crookedly. “How could she have been -riddled with bullets,” he questioned, “when you crossed the Atlantic in -her company?” - -Hindwood shrugged his shoulders. “If you insist on propounding -conundrums, it's up to you to supply the answers.” - -“I can supply them. The person executed in the woods of Vincennes was -not a woman.” - -“That's a daring assertion. Who was it?” - -“A distinguished French officer, a man who had been crippled in -defending his country and held the highest awards for gallantry. In -pre-war days he had been an old flame of hers, whom she had abandoned -with more than her ordinary callousness. On hearing of her predicament, -he begged to be allotted the duty of seeing that her sentence was -properly executed. The reason he gave was that he might clear himself -of the taint of ever having associated with a traitress. He was put in -charge of the guard on her last night. Making use of his opportunity, he -exchanged clothing with her and--” - -Hindwood stifled a yawn. “You expect me to believe this?” - -The Major mastered his anger. “I expect you to believe nothing. I'm here -to state facts and to warn you that your friend, who now calls herself -Santa Gorlof, is the same woman. My appeal to you for assistance -in bringing her to justice is both personal and patriotic. I am -her husband; my honor is involved. I am also an Englishman; all her -intrigues, even this last, in which Prince Rogovich met his fate, are -aimed against the friends of England--one of whom, I may remind you, is -your own great nation. All I can say is that each man has his separate -standard of loyalty. For me, an old soldier, my devotion to my country -is more important than my compassion for an erring woman.” - -Hindwood rose. Uncomfortably, against his will, he had been impressed by -the stoical dignity of his persistent guest. “You deserve that I should -be frank with you. Here's the truth--I accept very little of what you've -told me. Either you've mistaken my traveling companion for another -woman, or else you've been trying to prejudice me with a fantastic -story. But even though I accepted your supposed revelation, I should -refuse to help you. On your own showing, you're endeavoring to bring the -mother of your child to the scaffold. I should respect you more if you -left her fate to other hands. Disbelieving you, as I do, I regard -the introduction of Miss Gorlof's name into the discussion as rank -impertinence. Your coupling of my name with hers increases the cowardice -of your discourtesy. If you had convinced me and I were eager to assist -you, I couldn't. I know nothing about her--our acquaintance was the most -casual. In all probability I've seen her for the last time; I haven't -the vaguest notion where she's to be found. If your half-caste vampire -actually escaped the bullets in the woods of Vincennes, I advise you to -search for her in another direction. You may take my word for it that if -Santa Gorlof learns of your activities, you'll find yourself in trouble. -I reckon myself some judge when it comes to character.” - -The Major drew out his silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and -flicked a speck of dust from his immaculate white spats. With the utmost -deliberation he recovered his hat and gloves. For a few seconds he gazed -out of the window thoughtfully; then, turning slowly, he crossed the -room. With his hand on the door knob, he glanced back solemnly. He -passed his fingers across his lips and cleared his throat. “When she has -added you to her list of victims, if she gives you time before she kills -you, remember that I warned you.” - -When Hindwood had recovered sufficiently from his surprise to follow him -out into the passage, every sign of his unwelcome visitor had vanished. - -He had scarcely closed the door and reseated himself, when again there -came a tapping. - - - - -CHAPTER THE THIRD--HE PLUNGES INTO ROMANCE - - -I - - -HINDWOOD consulted his watch; the hour was nearing midnight. He was -surprised to discover how the time had flown. The tapping outside his -door continued. There was nothing hurried about it, nothing impatient. -On the other hand, there was nothing humble. It was a secret, intimate -kind of tapping, like the signaling of a woman to her lover. It would -cease for a minute, so that he began to hope that he was to be left in -quiet; then it would recommence. - -He sat obstinately at bay, almost holding his breath, not daring to -move lest he should betray that he had noticed. He was determined not -to admit this new disturber. He had had enough of danger warnings and -revengeful husbands. The only danger that he greatly dreaded was the -loss of a second night's rest. - -The sound was getting on his nerves. It was so irritatingly discreet -and importunate. At first he had tried to believe that his caller was a -hotel employee, but a servant would have taken silence for an answer -a good five minutes ago. If it had been any one who had a right to be -there, the tapping would have been bolder. Whoever it was, it was some -one who had correctly estimated his mood. - -_Tap-a-tap, tap-a-tap_. An interval, and then, _tap-a-tap_. - -Getting stealthily to his feet, he tiptoed to the threshold and flung -wide the door. - -“I beg your pardon.” He caught her arm as she stumbled back. “I guess I -startled you.” - -“Shish!” She pressed a finger to her lips. “Let me inside, so that I can -sit down.” - -Giving her his arm, he led her to a chair. Having returned and closed -the door, he surveyed her at his leisure. - -She had the appearance of a peasant woman dressed in her Sunday best, -yet so great was her dignity, she did not seem out of place in her -surroundings. She was very aged; her figure was shapeless and bowed. Her -gray hair was cropped like a boy's; she wore spread over it, knotted at -the throat, a neatly folded kerchief of white linen. She was clad in a -black gown of the utmost plainness. Nothing distracted attention from -her face, which was as stoical with endurance as a gladiator's. You -could almost trace the riverbeds her tears had worn. The fist of fate -had punched it flat. It was a ruin to which violence had done its worst, -but had failed to destroy its gentleness. And he had expected Santa. -Instead of feminine frailty, spurring weak desires, there had come -this woman, iron of will, broken in body, ravished by years, with her -tremendous impression of moral strength. As she sat before him, her -gnarled hands resting on her cane, pushing back the weight of her -ancient shoulders, she raised to him the dim valiance of her eyes. “What -can I do for you?” he questioned. “Nothing.” She swung her head from -side to side with the brooding fierceness of a decrepit lioness. “It is -you whom I have come to help.” - -“I!” he smiled. “I think you are mistaken.” - -“I am never mistaken.” She gazed at him intently. “I have come to -help you to act generously. You have it in your power to save a woman, -perhaps at the sacrifice of yourself.” - -He laughed quietly. “You mean Santa Gorlof. I wonder when I'm to hear -the last of her. A secret service man has spent the past two hours -instructing me what I can do for her. You must have met him. He had -scarcely left when you began to tap. He tried to convince me that if I -didn't protect myself by giving him information which would lead to her -arrest, my name would be added to her list of victims. A pleasant -sort of threat! I'm afraid he found me, as you will probably find me, -disappointing. I'm not possessed of any incriminating information, and -I don't place any faith in her list of victims. She struck me as being a -very gracious and fascinating woman. Beyond that I have no opinion about -her, either for or against.” - -The old head sank further forward; the dim eyes became searching. “Then -you told him nothing?” - -“I knew nothing to tell.” - -There followed a deep silence, during which they gazed fixedly at each -other. She sighed contentedly, nodding her approval. “So you are in love -with her! That makes things easier. Even to me you lie--to me who am her -friend!” - -“I deny that I am in love with her, but what makes you think so?” - -“She thinks so.” - -“Then you come directly from her?” - -He had been unable to keep back the eagerness from his voice. Instantly -he realized his indiscretion. Pulling up a chair, he seated himself -opposite her, that he might lose nothing of her changes of expression. - -“You're the second unconventional visitor,” he said, “whom I've received -this evening. The object of both your visits seems to be the same--to -associate my name with that of a lady to whom I am comparatively a -stranger. We may have conversed together a couple of dozen times; -when we parted, I never expected to hear from her. Within the space -of twenty-four hours a man who claims to be her husband comes to me -accusing her of every infamy. No sooner has the door closed behind him -than you enter, asserting that I am in love with her. You must pardon -me if I begin to suspect a plot. For all I know, you may be my first -visitor's accomplice, employing a more disarming method to get me to -commit myself. You tell me you are Santa Gorlof's friend; you might -equally well say you are her grandmother--you offer me no proof. If -she's really in trouble, I'm sorry. But I fail to see any way in which I -can serve her.” - -“If there were no way, I should not have troubled you, especially at -this late hour. As for her being in danger, she has always been in -danger. She was born into the world like that. I am old--very old. I -have no traces of it left, but I, too, was once beautiful.” - -The trembling hands fumbled at the white linen kerchief, loosening the -knot against her neck. “Ah, yes, I was beautiful. But I did not come to -you to speak of that. My friend, you are good; I saw that the moment I -entered. I said to myself, 'There is the man who could understand our -Santa and make her honorable like himself.' The world has given her no -chance--no, never. The husband who should have cared for her tossed her -aside like an old shoe when, like all animals robbed of their young, she -struck out in self-defense. I see you have heard that--how her child -was murdered and she was sent into exile for taking justice into her own -hands. Doubtless you have heard much else. She is a woman who would have -done no harm to any one if she had been allowed to remain a mother. But -because they scoffed at her motherhood, all her goodness has turned to -wickedness. Using her body as a decoy, she has slain men of the race -that persecuted her. Because she could not get her child back, she has -become an outlaw, making society pay for her loneliness.” - -She paused, watching her effect. - -Hindwood had not removed his eyes from hers. His face was troubled. -“I don't think you know what has been told me. The man who introduced -himself to me as her husband said that she was a half-caste, a temple -dancing-girl, who to revenge herself had poisoned white men's happiness -and during the war had become an international spy, working against the -Allies. He made the assertion that she was responsible for the vanishing -of Prince Rogovich. If these things are so, how can I, a decent, -self-respecting man--” - -Bending forward, the old lady clutched his hand. “It was decent, -self-respecting men who made her what she is to-day.” - -He released his hand quietly. “You have not denied any of the -accusations which are brought against her. And yet, remembering her -face, I can not believe that she is bad. You want me to save her. If -by that you mean that you want me to pledge myself not to give evidence -against her, you may tell her from me that I have no evidence.” - -“I don't mean that.” - -“Then what?” - -“I want you to declare to me that you love her. No, listen. There is -still something in her that is pure. You have made her conscious of it. -You can undo the wrong that has been done her and make her the woman she -should be, if you choose.” - -Hindwood rose from his seat and paced the room. Suddenly he halted and -swung round. “How did you know that I desired her? Until you came, I -scarcely realized it myself. Why should you have appointed yourself to -tempt me--you, who are so old? Between sane people, what would be the -use of my telling you that I loved her? Though I refused to believe any -of the libels against her which even you seem to credit, there are two -facts which it does not seem possible to escape: that she is married and -that the police are on her track. I have been warned that when she -traps men, she commences by appealing to their chivalry. That's what's -happening now. Do you see where you place me? If she is falsely accused, -I brand myself a coward by running away from her. If she is guilty, -I endanger my good name by having any more to do with her. What I -am waiting to hear you say is that this is a case of mistaken -identity--that she is willing and able to prove it.” - -“Will you help me out of my chair?” - -When she was on her feet, she let go his arm and commenced to move -across the room. - -“Where are you going?” - -“To give her your message.” - -“I've told you nothing.” - -“You've told me that you love her.” - -She was on the point of leaving. With quiet decision he put his back -against the door, preventing her from opening it. - -“Madam,” he said, “old as you are, you owe me some consideration. Before -you go, I at least have a right to ask your name.” - -She smiled wistfully. The harshness in her face was replaced by a -glow of tenderness. “Yes, you have the right. I am called 'the Little -Grandmother.' I am a readjuster of destinies--the champion of the -down-trodden. I fight for those for whom the world has ceased to care.” - -“But what have you to do with Santa?” - -“She has been oppressed.” - -“And because she has been oppressed, you overlook any crimes she may -have committed?” - -“I am not God, that I should judge. If people's hearts are empty, I -reckon them my children.” - -“Let me ask you one more question. Did Santa tell you that she loved -me?” - -The old head shook sorrowfully. “To act nobly it is not necessary to be -loved in return. Let me go. Do not try to follow me.” - -Standing aside, he opened the door. “And we meet again?” - -As she hobbled out, she glanced across her shoulder. In her gesture -there was the ghostly grace of the proud coquette who was vanishing and -forgotten. “Will you want to,” she whispered, “to-morrow?” - - -II - - -Now that she was gone he realized that under the hypnotic influence of -her presence he had revealed far more than he had intended. He should -never have allowed her to escape him. He should have insisted on -accompanying her. She had afforded him his only clue to Santa's -whereabouts. - -At all costs he must see Santa. His peace of mind depended on it. The -thought of her would haunt him. He would never rest until he had arrived -at the truth. Probably, until he had seen her, he would never be free -from the mischief-making intrusions of anonymous intriguers. He -dodged the theory of her guilt, preferring to persuade himself that -a conspiracy was afoot, the object of which might be blackmail. More -likely it was a clever move on the part of financial rivals to thwart -his plans by discrediting him. If he could meet Santa, he would know -for certain whether she was a decoy or a fellow-victim. Whatever his -intellect might suspect, his heart resolutely acquitted her. - -It was too late to overtake the Little Grandmother, but he was -determined to do his best to trace her. In the passage he discovered a -solitary individual collecting boots and shoes, which had been placed -for cleaning outside the neighboring doors. - -“An old lady left my room a few moments ago. She had short hair and a -white handkerchief tied over her head. No doubt you saw her.” - -The man rose from his stooping posture. “An old lady with short hair! -You say she had a handkerchief tied over it? It doesn't sound like the -Ritz. No, I did not see her.” - -Of the man at the elevator he made the same inquiry, only to be informed -that several old ladies had been carried up and down. - -Descending to the foyer, he presented himself at the desk. - -“Isn't it your rule to have all callers announced before they're shown -in on your guests?” - -“Most decidedly.” - -“Then how did it happen that an old lady, a rather curious old lady, -with short hair and a white handkerchief over her head like a shawl, was -allowed to' find her way into my room?” - -“If you'll give me the particulars, I'll have the staff on duty -questioned.” - -As he turned away, he threw back across his shoulder: “I shan't be going -to bed yet. If you discover anything you might report it.” - -Half an hour later he was summoned to the telephone. “About your -visitor, sir; no one saw her.” Far into the early hours of the morning -he sat cogitating. What steps ought he to take to protect himself? He -could place his case in the hands of the police, but if he did, he -might stir up a hornet's nest. Most certainly he would be compelled -to postpone his business on the Continent and to prolong his stay in -England. But more disastrous than personal inconvenience, in going -to the police he might be the means of putting Santa's enemies on her -track. They would expect him to make a clean breast of everything; he -would find difficulty in inventing convincing motives to explain the -shiftiness of his conduct since landing. - -If he could speak to Santa, he would know how to act. If she were really -implicated in the Rogovich affair, his best way of helping her would be -to clear out of England. But if she could assure him of her innocence, -he was prepared to stay and back her to the limit of his capacity. -Across the jet-black sky the silver moon drifted like a water-lily--a -parable of Santa, moving immaculately among rumors of darkest misdoings. -Whatever she had done had not quenched her purity. If she had done the -worst of which she was accused, her perverted mother-love still clothed -her with the tatters of a tragic goodness. - -He jerked himself irritably back to reality. How could a woman who had -spread death with her beauty still retain her purity? He had been warned -that she trapped men by appealing not to their baseness, but to -their chivalry. What wild-eyed feat of chivalry was this that he was -performing? It was best to dispense with casuistry. The accumulated -slanders to which he had listened had spurred his curiosity. They had -changed a modishly attractive woman into a romantic figure--a figure -which, if it were not noble, at least possessed the virtue of lonely -courage. - -He would allow himself four days in England. If he had not heard from -her by then, he would go about his business. Having to this extent set a -limit to his difficulties, he took himself off to bed. - - -III - - -His first anxiety next morning was to scan the papers. He had all the -London dailies brought to him and read them before he dressed. For the -most part they told him nothing new, merely recording, with varying -degrees of sensationalism, the indisputable fact that Prince Rogovich -had vanished. One or two hinted at foul play. Several suggested -accidental drowning. The bulk of them, and among these were the most -reputable, presumed that the Prince had had private reasons for avoiding -England and landing at a Continental port _incognito_. Santa Gorlof's -name was not mentioned. He found nothing to confirm the warnings of last -night or to alarm himself on her account. - -It was later, while eating breakfast with the _Times_ propped up before -him, that he came across an item which set him viewing what had happened -from a new angle. He was skipping through a sketch of the Prince's -career, when he stumbled on the following paragraph: “It will be -remembered how last summer the Polish women's sense of injustice -concentrated in a silent protest. For an entire week, day and night, -never less than a thousand mothers, each carrying a dead child in her -breast, camped about the Rogovich Palace in Warsaw.” - -Glancing back, he read more carefully the information which led up to -the paragraph: “During the two years following the close of the war, -Poland, together with most of Central Europe, has suffered intensely -from famine. Children have contributed by far the largest proportion -to the toll of death. For much of this, so far as Poland is concerned, -Prince Rogovich has been held accountable. The national wealth which he -has squandered on equipping armies might have been spent more profitably -in purchasing foodstuffs. The trip to America, from which he was -returning at the time of his mysterious disappearance, is said to have -had as its object the floating of a loan which would enable his Generals -to maintain their offensives for at least another twelve months. While -the land-owning party in Poland, supported by French diplomacy, backed -him up, his imperialistic policies were bitterly condemned by Polish -mothers who had to watch their children perishing from starvation in -order that frontiers might be extended. Already the death-rate was so -high that it was impossible to supply sufficient coffins. At mid-day the -main streets of Warsaw were jammed with funerals. Many of these funerals -consisted of only two persons: a man and woman, themselves weak from -want of nourishment, staggering under the puny load of a bundle wrapped -in paper, containing the body of the latest son or daughter to die of -hunger.” Then followed the brief description of how the thousand Polish -mothers had camped for a week in protest about the Prince's palace. - -Hindwood looked up from his paper, gazing across the flashing gulf -of sunlight to where the azure sea of distant sky beat against the -embattled strand of housetops. If Santa had pushed the Prince overboard, -had that been her motive--that Polish children might no longer die of -hunger? Perhaps always, if indeed she had killed men, her purpose had -been to act as the scourge of the enemies of children. The memory of her -own dead child had urged her. Mistakenly, but none the less valiantly, -she had constituted herself the avenger of all mothers who had been -despoiled by masculine callousness. - -What round-about journeys he was willing to undertake if only he might -excuse her! Even though he were compelled to admit her guilt, he was -determined to adjudge her magnanimous. At any rate, she had not been -apprehended. - -With a lighter heart than he had experienced for some hours, he -dismissed her from his thoughts and set out to fulfill his round of -engagements. - -It was three o'clock when he returned. Immediately, on entering his room -he noticed that a sheet of writing-paper had been pinned conspicuously -to the pillow of his bed. Its evident purpose was to attract his -attention. On approaching it, he saw that the message which it contained -was printed in large letters and unsigned. It read: - -“_If you wish to see her, follow but do not speak to the widow._” - -It didn't make sense. What widow? The “her” whom he could see by -following the widow referred presumably to Santa. But who had pinned the -sheet of paper to his pillow? How had this person gained access to his -rooms? That morning, when he went out, he had locked his door and left -his key at the hotel desk. He had in his possession confidential papers -of almost state importance. If their secrets were shared, he might -just as well pack up and return to America. His sense that he was the -storm-center of a conspiracy strengthened. - -Seizing his hat and gloves, he hurried down-stairs. He had just time -to lodge a complaint with the management before keeping his next -appointment. - -He had alighted from the elevator and was about to cross the foyer, when -a woman rose from a chair near by and passed immediately in front of -him. He jerked himself up with a murmured apology; then noticed that she -was gowned in the heaviest widow's mourning. A coincidence, he thought, -and yet not so very extraordinary! He was proceeding on his journey, -when his eyes chanced to follow her. She had halted uncertainly, as -though she had forgotten something; by the poise of her head, he -guessed that behind her veil she was gazing at him. More to satisfy his -curiosity than as the preface to an adventure, he also halted. Somewhat -ostentatiously he drew from his pocket the sheet of note-paper which -he had found pinned to his pillow. Unfolding it, he reread its printed -message: - -“If you wish to see her, follow but do not speak to the widow.” - -He looked up. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the veiled figure nodded. He -made a step, as if to approach her. Instantly she turned and passed out. - -Without further consideration, in his eagerness to see what she would do -next, he followed. - - -IV - - -He had expected that outside the hotel, in the throng of anonymous -traffic, she would wait for him. Without giving any further sign that -she was aware of him, she moved quietly through the fashionable crowd of -Piccadilly and turned into the sunlit leisure of St. James Street. The -unconscious gaiety of her way of walking was strangely out of keeping -with her garments of bereavement. Hindwood's curiosity was piqued. In a -shamefaced way he was overwhelmingly interested. He felt himself capable -of a great romance. For the moment he was almost grateful for the -annoyances that had presented him with so thrilling an opportunity. - -What was he meant to do? The message had forbidden him to accost her. He -had been ordered merely to follow. How long and whither? At the Foreign -Office a high official was waiting for him, expecting every minute to -hear him announced. To wander through London after an unknown woman was -the trick of a gallant or a moonstruck boy. He was neither. He was a man -of discretion, who aimed at becoming the advisor of statesmen and -yet his conduct was open to every misinterpretation. He began to -feel himself a scoundrel. For a man whose emotions had always been -shepherded, the sensation was exciting and not wholly unpleasant. - -If he could only learn something about her! Crossing to the opposite -pavement, he hurried his pace till he was abreast of her. - -She was young. Her figure was slight and upright. She was about the -same build as Santa, but seemed taller. If she were indeed Santa, this -impression of added height might be due to the somberness of her attire. -She was so carefully veiled that even her hair was hidden; there was -no feature by which he could identify her. He tried another experiment. -Recrossing the street to a point some distance ahead, he loitered before -a shop, making a self-conscious pretense of studying its wares. He heard -the rustle of her crêpe as she drew near him. She went by him so closely -that she almost touched him. He was conscious of the faint fragrance of -her perfume. In the window he caught the dim reflection of her figure. -At the moment that she was immediately behind him, she moved her head in -a backward gesture, seeming to indicate that he should follow. When -he turned to obey, she was drifting through the September sunshine, -completely self-absorbed and unnoticing. - -Traveling the yard of St. James Palace, she entered the Mall. There she -hesitated, giving him time to catch up with her. A taxi was crawling by. -She hailed it. Addressing the driver, but glancing directly at himself, -she said in a sweet, distinct voice: - -“Victoria Station. The Brighton platform.” - - -V - - -Was she Santa? The voice had sounded different, yet, had his life -depended on it, he could not have decided. There was only one way of -finding out--by joining her on the Brighton platform. This would mean -missing his appointment at the Foreign Office. He was prepared to make -the sacrifice, but he had no guarantee that the chase would end there. -It was possible that she would still refuse to satisfy his curiosity and -compel him to accompany her further. His rôle was that of the incautious -fly. But who was the master-spinner of this web in which it was intended -that he should become entangled? Was it the Little Grandmother? He -had asked her whether they would meet again. In the light of present -happenings, her answer took on a sinister meaning, “Will you want to -to-morrow?” - -As he stood there in the sunshine of the Mall, with the thud of -fashionable equipages flashing by, a sullen conviction grew up within -him that he was becoming afraid. An empty taxi hove in sight. He -beckoned. Before it had halted, he was standing on the running-board. - -“To Victoria Station. The Brighton platform.” The driver took his -brevity for a sign that a train was to be caught by the narrowest of -margins. He made such speed that they drew up against the curb just as -the widow's vehicle was departing. She threw him a furtive glance -from behind her veil, then turned and moved away as though he were -the completest stranger. Imitating her discretion, he followed at a -distance. - -Halting before the ticket-office, she produced her purse. He edged -nearer; it was necessary that he should learn her destination. - -“A first-class single to Seafold,” he heard her say. - -When his turn came, he repeated her words, adding: “How long before it -starts?” - -“Five minutes,” the clerk told him. - -As he gathered up his change, he was surprised to observe how little -was left out of his pound. He had supposed Seafold would prove to be a -suburb. By the cost of his ticket he estimated that it must be a journey -of at least sixty miles. Was it worth the taking? Could he return that -same evening? He might get stranded. If that happened, he was unprepared -to spend the night. These considerations were swept aside when he -noticed that the widow had once more vanished. - -Accosting a porter, “The Seafold platform?” he asked breathlessly. - -“Same as the one for Brighton.” - -“That tells me nothing. There's no luggage. Show me.” - -Before he had passed the barrier, he was aware that the train was -crowded. In third-class compartments passengers were standing. To -discover any one under these circumstances would be a labor of patience. -Carriage-doors were being banged and locked. Even at this final moment -his habitual caution reasserted itself. What else but folly could result -from an adventure so recklessly undertaken? - -The porter caught him by the arm. “'Ere you are, mister. 'Op in. You're -lucky.” - -No sooner had he squeezed himself into the remaining seat than, with a -groaning jerk, the train started. - - -VI - - -Lucky! The luckiest thing that could have happened to him would have -been to be left behind. Here he was, following a woman whose face he had -not seen, to a place which, up to a few moments ago, he had not known -existed. Even to believe that he was following her required optimism; he -had no proof that she was on the train. Probably it had been part of her -strategy to send him scurrying on this fool's errand, in order that her -accomplices might be undisturbed while they ransacked his rooms in his -absence. - -“I'll make an end of this nonsense,” he told himself, “by alighting at -the next stopping-place.” - -But where was the next stopping-place? He glanced along the double row -of his fellow-passengers, barricaded behind their papers. He wanted -to ask his question and watched for an opportunity. At last, losing -patience, he nudged the man beside him. - -“Excuse me, sir; I'm a stranger. I've made a mistake. My ticket's to -Seafold, wherever that may be, and I--” - -With his nose still glued to the page, the man muttered: “That's all -right. You don't need to worry. It's where you're going.” - -“But it isn't all right,” Hindwood contradicted with a shade of -annoyance. “I don't want to go to Seafold; I want to return to London. -What I'm trying to ask you is where can I get out?” - -“Lewes, if you think it's worth while.” - -“Why shouldn't I think it's worth while?” - -The paper rustled testily and was raised a few inches higher. “Because -Lewes is almost at Seafold. It's the junction where you change--the one -and only stop between here and Brighton.” - -Turning away disgustedly, he watched the swiftly changing landscape. -Everything that met his eyes was beautiful, with a domestic, -thought-out, underlying tenderness. It had all been planned, that -was what he felt, by the loving labor of countless generations. In -a homeless man like himself the sight created a realization of -forlornness. He had traveled five continents and had planted his -affections nowhere. It was the same with his human relations. He could -reckon his acquaintances by the thousand, yet there was no one to whom -he was indispensably dear. By a mental transition, the implication of -which he scarcely appreciated, he began to think of Santa. - -They were slowing down. He was surprised to discover that an hour had -gone by. The man at his side folded up his paper. Now that they were -about to part, he considered it safe to be friendly. - -“We're coming into Lewes,” he said with a smile. “The Seafold train will -be waiting just across the platform. You can't miss it.” - -Hindwood thanked him brusquely. - -What to do next? If he were fortunate in catching an express, he could -be in London in time to dine. As he stepped out, he saw the Seafold -local waiting. What good would it do him to go to Seafold? Yet to quit -now would be humiliatingly unadventurous. He was moving slowly towards -the stair, when he was arrested by a voice. - -“If you wouldn't mind? It was stupid of me to drop it.” - -He turned sharply. She was leaning out of a carriage window which he was -in the act of passing. - -Without giving him time to question, she explained: “My ticket--it -slipped from my hand. There it is behind you.” - -The moment he had stooped and returned it, she withdrew herself. It -had happened so quickly that he had no chance to guess at the features -behind the heavy veil. With a promptitude of decision which almost -deceived himself, as though he had never harbored any other intention, -he opened the door and clambered into the carriage next to hers. - -“That's that,” he thought, smiling tolerantly at his relieved sense of -satisfaction. And then, “It was no accident. She saw that I was giving -up the chase. She did it to keep me going. What's her game?” - -Whatever her game was, he was well on the road to enlightenment. The -engine was puffing through a valley, across salt-marshes intersected by -dykes and sluggish streams, where derelict boats lay sunken in the mud, -rotting among the wild-flowers. Grazing sheep made the quiet plaintive -with their cries. Gulls, disturbed by the train's impetuous onrush, rose -and drifted lazily into the peace that slumbered further inland. Of a -sudden, with a gesture of exaltation, the gleaming chalk-cliffs of the -coast leaped into sight and beyond them the dull flash of the Channel. - -He was clamorous with excitement. Curiosity beat masterfully on the door -of the future. He had to find out. Why had he been brought here? What -had Santa to do with it? Who was the woman in the next compartment? - -They had halted several times. Each time he had watched carefully to see -whether she was eluding him. Again their speed was slackening. They were -entering a little, sandy town, dotted with red-brick villas, bleached -by the wind and sun. He caught glimpses between the houses of a battered -esplanade, of concrete breakwaters partly destroyed, of a pebbly beach -alternately sucked down and quarrelsomely hurled back by the waves. Over -all hung the haunting fragrance of salt, and gorse, and wild thyme. - -They had come to a standstill. Passengers were climbing out and greeting -friends. A porter flung wide the door of his carriage, shouting, -“Seafold! Seafold!” - -Having watched her alight, he followed. She was a few paces ahead, -picking her way daintily through the crowd. Again she was all discretion -and gave no hint that she had noticed him. Outside the gate, cabmen -offered themselves for hire. She shook her head denyingly and passed on -with her tripping step. Not until the station had been left behind did -he remember that he ought to have inquired at what times the trains -departed for London. Too late! His immediate business was keeping her in -sight. - -With the unhesitating tread of one familiar with her surroundings, she -chose what seemed to be the most important street. It was narrow and -flanked by little, stooping cottages, most of which had been converted -into shops which cater to the needs of tourists. It was the end of the -season. A few remaining visitors were sauntering aimlessly up and down. -Natives, standing in groups, had the appearance of being fishermen. Some -of them nodded to her respectfully; without halting, she passed them -with a pleasant word. At the bottom of the street she turned into a -road, paralleling the sea-front, which led through a waste of turf and -sand into the wind-swept uplands of the open country. Just where the -country met the town there stood a lath-and-plaster house, isolated, -facing seaward, creeper-covered, surrounded by high hedges. It was more -pretentious than any he had seen as yet. Giving no sign that she was -aware she was followed, she pushed open the rustic gate, passed up the -red-tiled path, produced a latch-key, and admitted herself. There, in -the bare stretch of road, having lured him all the way from London, -without a single backward glance or any sign that would betray her -recognition of his presence, she left him. - - -VII - - -Just what I might have expected,” he said aloud. - -“Did you speak ter me, mister?” - -He swung round to find a freckled, bare-legged urchin gazing up at him. - -“I didn't. Who are you?” - -“A caddy from them links over there.” He pointed a grubby finger along -the road to where, half a mile away, the level of the seashore swept up -into a bold, green headland. - -“Then I guess you're the sort of boy I'm looking for. Who lives in this -house?” - -“A Madam Something or other. 'Er name sounds Russian.” - -“What does she look like?” - -“Dunno. She's a widder and covers 'erself up. Not but what she 'as -gentlemen friends as visits 'er.” - -“You seem a sharp boy. Can you tell me how long she's lived here?” - -“Maybe a year; off and on that's ter say. I don't recolleck.” - -“Is she by herself?” - -“There's an old woman in the garden sometimes as looks a 'undred. She -wears a white hanky tied round 'er 'ead.” - -“I think that's all I want to ask you. Here's something for you. Oh yes, -do you happen to know about the trains to London?” - -“The last one's gorn, mister, if that's what yer means. It's the one -that our gents at the golf-links aims ter catch.” - -“Then I'm out of luck. Good evening, sonny, and thank you for your -information.” - -The bare legs showed no signs of departing; the freckled face still -gazed up. - -“What's interesting you. My way of speaking? I'm American.” - -The boy shook his head. “We 'ad Canadian soldiers 'ere during the war; -they're pretty near Americans.” - -“Then what is it?” - -“It's that you're the second gent to-day to slip me a shilling for -telling 'im about this 'ouse. And it's something else.” He sank his -voice to a whisper. “Don't look round. There's been some one a-peeking -from be'ind a bedroom winder most of the time as we've been talkin'. I'd -best be goin'. Good evenin', mister.” - -Not to attract attention by loitering, Hindwood set off at a -businesslike pace down the road toward the headland. As he drew further -away from the house, he walked more slowly; he was trying to sort out -his facts. The woman who lived there had a Russian name. Santa Gorlof! -She dressed like a widow. That would be to disguise herself. The news -about the gentlemen friends who visited her was quite in keeping with -the character which the Major had bestowed on her, but not at all -welcome. She had lived there for a year, off and on. Her companion was -an old woman, nearly a hundred--the Little Grandmother! But who was -this man who earlier in the day had bribed the boy that he might obtain -precisely the same information? He reminded himself that the police were -hunting for her. The man might be a detective. If justice had already -run her to earth, Seafold was the last place in which he ought to be -found. If the boy had been accurate about the trains, there was no -escape till the morning. Even though he were to hire an automobile, he -would be placing his visit to Seafold on record. Self-preservation rose -up rampant. What a fool he'd been to involve himself in so perilous an -affair! - -And yet, once more and for the last time, he longed to see Santa's face. -Why was it? Was it because her hearsay wickedness fascinated him? It -was not because he loved her. It was not to gratify morbid curiosity--at -least not entirely. Perhaps it was because he pitied her and, against -his will, discovered a certain grandeur in her defiance. She had played -a lone hand. Like a beast of prey in the jungle, she was surrounded; at -this moment she must be listening for the stealthy tread of those who -were encompassing her destruction, yet she had not lost her cunning. She -was fighting to the end. Probably this time, as when the firing-squad -waited for her in the woods of Vincennes, she was planning to employ -a man as her substitute--_himself_. The fact remained that in her -desperate need, she had appealed to him for help. There was the barest -chance that she was innocent--a victim of false-appearing circumstances. -He wanted to judge her for himself by tearing aside the widow's veil and -gazing on her destroying beauty. - -Turning off the road, he struck across the links, climbing toward the -towering headland. The wind, coming in gusts, rustled the parched gorse -and brittle fronds of bracken. Behind his back the sun was setting, -flinging a level bar of gold across the leaden sea. In sudden lulls, -when the wind ceased blowing, the air pulsated with the rhythmic -cannonading of waves assaulting the wall of cliffs. When he listened -intently, he could hear the _ha-ha_ of their cheering and their sullen -moan as they were beaten back. It was strange to think that two weeks -ago he had been in New York, intent on nothing but acquiring a fortune. -Women had not troubled him. Why should he now permit this woman, -chance-met on ship-board, to divert him--a woman who could never be -closer to him? - -He had reached the summit of the promontory. Etched against the -sky-line, his figure must be visible for miles. The sun sank lower and -vanished. Gazing through the clear atmosphere, far below him he could -discern every detail of the house to which he had been tempted. It -looked a fitting nest for an old poet. It held no hint of terror. At the -same time it was strategically well situated for occupants who wished to -keep an eye on all approaches. - -He had been watching for any sign of movement, when a curious thing -happened. Though no figure appeared, from one of the upper windows a -white cloth fluttered. He shaded his eyes with his hand. The signal was -repeated. He tapped his breast and pointed, as much as to say, “Shall I -come?” The cloth was shaken vigorously. On repeating the experiment, -he obtained the same result. When he nodded his head in assent, the -fluttering ended. - -So every step of his progress had been observed by some one spying -through a telescope from behind the curtained windows! The first moment -he had afforded an opportunity by looking back, the signaling had -commenced. That so much secrecy should be employed seemed to betoken -that Santa's case was desperate. That she should have run the risk of -tempting him down from London must mean that he possessed some peculiar -facility for rendering her a much needed service. - -The imminence of the danger, both to her and to himself, was emphasized -by this latest precaution. She had not dared to admit him to the house -or even to acknowledge his presence, until she had made certain that he, -in his turn, was not followed. - -This thought, that he might be followed, filled him with an entirely -new sensation; it peopled every clump of gorse and bed of bracken -with possible unseen enemies. The rustling of the wind, the cry of a -sea-bird, made him turn alertly, scanning with suspicion every hollow -and mound of the wild, deserted landscape. It seemed unwise to allow his -actions to announce his intentions too plainly. What his intentions were -he was not very certain. His immediate inclination was to shake himself -free from the whole mysterious complication. - -Continuing his ramble, he assumed a careless gait, descending the -further side of the promontory and bearing always slightly inland, so -that his course might lead back eventually to the road from which he had -departed. As dusk was gathering, he found himself entering an abandoned -military camp. The bare hutments, with their dusty windows and padlocked -doors, stretched away in seeming endless avenues of ghostly silence. -The Maple Leaf, painted on walls and sign-boards, explained the village -boy's reference to Canadian soldiers. He had reached the heart of it, -when he was possessed by the overpowering sensation that human eyes were -gazing at him. Pulling himself up, he glanced back across his shoulder, -crooking his arm to ward off a blow. Realizing what he was doing, he -relaxed and stared deliberately about him. Nothing! No sign of life! Yet -the certainty remained that human eyes were watching. - -“Nerves!” he muttered contemptuously. - -It was dark when, leaving the camp, he struck the road. Stars were -coming out. Far away along the coast the distant lights of a harbor -blinked and twinkled. He hurried his steps. His mind was made up. He -would get something to eat in Seafold, discover a garage, hire a car and -be back in London by midnight. To confirm his will in this decision, he -began making plans for the morrow. - -To enter the town he had to pass the house. As its bulk gathered shape, -his feet moved more slowly. Long before he came opposite it, he had -caught the fragrance of the myrtle in its hedges. The windows which -looked his way were shrouded. He paused for a moment outside the rustic -gate. He was saying good-by to adventure. He was too old. His season for -pardonable folly was ended. The prose of life had claimed him. - -Prolonging the pretense of temptation, he pushed open the gate. A -hand touched his--a woman's. The desire to play safe faded. Weakly -capitulating, he allowed himself to be led up the path and across the -shadowy threshold. The door of the darkened house closed behind him. She -was slipping the bolts into place. - - -VIII - - -He listened. He could not see her face--only the blurred outline of her -figure. Except for the sound of her movements, the silence was unbroken. -At the end of a passage, leading from the hall, a streak of gold escaped -along the carpet. - -“Santa!” - -No answer. - -“Santa, why have you brought me?” - -Gliding past him down the passage, she darted into the lighted room, -leaving the door ajar behind her. He followed gropingly. As he entered, -he was momentarily confused by the sudden change from darkness. - -She was addressing him in a small, strained voice. “There's no need to -be afraid.” - -He looked about him, searching for the inspirer of fear. There was no -one save themselves. Then he noticed how she trembled. She was making -a brave effort to appear collected, but it was plain that she was wild -with terror. Her eyes were wide and dilated. She stood on the defensive, -backed against the fireplace, as though she were expecting violence. Her -right hand was in advance of her body. It held something which caught -the glow of the flames--a nickel-plated revolver, cocked and ready for -immediate action. His reception was so different from anything he had -anticipated that he stared with an amused expression of inquiry. - -At last he asked, “You knew from the start that I thought you were -Santa?” - -Biting her lip to prevent herself from crying, she nodded. Far from -being Santa, she was fair as any Dane, with China-blue eyes and the -complexion of a wild rose. He noted the little wisps of curls which made -a haze of gold about her forehead. She wore turquoise earrings. They -were her only adornment. She herself was a decoration. She was like a -statue of the finest porcelain, so flawless that she seemed unreal. Had -it not been for her widow's mourning, he would have said that she was -untouched by passionate experience. She had an appearance of provoking -innocence, which made the paleness of her beauty ardent as a flame. - -Speaking quietly, “I'm not easily frightened,” he said; “and you, while -you keep me covered with that revolver, have no reason to be afraid. Any -moment you choose you can kill me--you've only to press the trigger.” - -Tears of horror sprang into her eyes. “But I don't want to kill you.” - -[Illustration: 0136] - -“Then why don't you lay it aside?” - -“Because--” She gazed at him appealingly. - -“Because I'm alone. I may need it to protect myself.” - -“From me? No. I should think you can see that.” Was the house really -empty? He listened. It was possible that some one might steal up from -behind. He did not dare to turn. His only chance of preventing her from -shooting him was to keep her engaged in conversation. - -“If you feel this way, why did you go to such elaborate pains to force -me to visit you to-night? You must have known that I didn't want to -come. It isn't I who have intruded.” He smiled cheerfully. “At the risk -of appearing rude, I'll be frank with you. When you crossed my path at -the Ritz, I was on the point of keeping a most important engagement. -When I followed you out of the hotel, it was because of a message I'd -found pinned to my pillow, 'Follow the widow.' So it wasn't you in -particular that I was following; I'd have followed any widow. I -expected that you'd speak to me as soon as we were in the street. I'd -no intention of giving up my appointment. You didn't; you led me on, -further and further, a step at a time. I don't mind telling you that -when I found myself in the train, I was extremely annoyed. By the time -I'd arrived at Lewes, I'd fully made up my mind to abandon the chase. -Then you spoke to me. I'd wasted so much of my afternoon that I didn't -like being beaten. You'd roused my curiosity. Here in Seafold, you -dodged me and left me standing in the road like a dummy. That used up -the fag-end of my patience; I was mad clean through. I didn't care if -I never saw you again. When you signaled me on the headland, I signaled -back that I was coming. I wasn't. I was tired of being led on and -eluded. When you caught me at the gate, I was flirting with temptation, -but I'd already laid my plans to be back in London by midnight. So you -see you can scarcely blame me for being here. The shoe's on the other -foot entirely. You've put me to great inconvenience merely to tell me, -it would seem, that you don't want to shoot me.” - -“I don't.” - -“Then why not throw the thing away? You're far more scared of it than I -am.” - -“Because I may have to use it.” - -“On whom?” - -“You.” - -“Why?” - -A sweet, slow smile turned up the edges of her mouth. “My orders were to -keep you here, if once I'd managed to persuade you inside.” - -He laughed outright. “You hate having me here, and you'd hate to see me -go. Isn't that the way the land lies? I'm more or less in the same fix: -I didn't want to come, and I don't want to stay. The fact remains that -we're both here. Why not make the best of it? If you'll stop brandishing -that weapon, I'll feel much more comfortable. I'm not trying to escape.” - -“You might.” - -For the first time he dared to shift his position. “Don't be alarmed,” - he warned her. “That's easier. I was stiff. Now, if you'll listen, I've -a proposal to make. You're treating me like a burglar, which isn't fair. -You may know, but I've not the least idea how long you intend to hold me -prisoner. I guess you're waiting for some one else to arrive, but that's -neither here nor there. Before the third person comes, you may have shot -me--of course, by accident. Revolvers go off if you keep them too long -pointed. You know nothing about firearms, and I'm beginning to be rather -fond of life. Here's what I propose: if you'll put it away, I'll give -you my parole not to come within two yards of you or to attempt to -escape. If I want my parole back, you shall have a full five minutes' -notice.” - -“If I thought that I could trust you--” - -“You can. Is it a bargain?” - -Without answering, placing her weapon on the mantelpiece, she turned -her back on him. She seemed waiting to hear him advance further into the -room. He did not stir. - -“What is it, Mr. Hindwood?” - -“It's that I've just remembered one thing for which our armistice has -not provided. You'd better pick up your gun again. It's that I haven't -dined. I wonder whether you'd let me into the village--” He left -his sentence unended. He suddenly perceived that she was shaken with -sobbing. In his concern, he forgot his compact as to distance and -hurried over to her side. She swung round, her face blinded with tears. -As she stumbled past him, she muttered: “You've beaten me. You're not -afraid. I couldn't shoot you now if I wanted.” - - -IX - - -Tiptoeing to the threshold, he turned the handle and peeped into the -passage. As before, everything was in darkness. - -He was free to go. There was nothing to stop him--nothing except his -honor. It was easy to argue that even his honor did not prevent him. He -had canceled his parole when he had reopened negotiations by telling her -to pick up her revolver. She had left it behind her on the mantel-shelf. -He took it in his hand and examined it. It was a repeater. Every chamber -was loaded. He whistled softly--so she had meant business! Setting the -hammer at half-cock, he slipped the weapon in his pocket. He was master -of the situation now. - -Why didn't he go? Two hours of steady driving, three at the most, and -he could be in London. He reminded himself that at this very moment his -private papers might be in the process of being ransacked. What if they -were? The possibility left him utterly indifferent. He couldn't save -them after the lapse of another three hours. - -No, the truth was that since his voyage on the _Ryndam_ all the emphases -of his life were becoming altered. The importance of money and power -no longer seemed paramount. After nearly forty years of living, he had -awakened to the fact that it was women who shed a radiance of glamour -in an otherwise gloomy world. Of all human adventures they were the most -enthralling and the least certain of rewarding. - -It was curiosity that had enticed him into his present entanglements; -his curiosity had yet to be satisfied. With a revolver in his pocket, he -felt that he now possessed the means of extracting the right answers to -his questions. He had suffered mild inconveniences, but so far he -hadn't done so badly. He had established mysterious relations with two -beautiful women. One of them was already under the same roof; the other, -he believed, was momentarily expected. He began to figure himself as a -poet, a dreamer, a potential storm-center of romance. - -“And all because she has blue eyes!” he hinted. - -Then he remembered that Santa's eyes were gray, and that up to the last -half-hour it had been Santa whom he had supposed that he was following. - -He gazed about him, making an inspection of the room, trying to guess -at the characters of its inhabitants. It was square and small. Its walls -were lined ceiling-high with shelves overloaded with books of a learned -appearance. A work-basket stood on a mahogany desk with mending, -scissors, and reels of cotton strewn near it. A piano had been crushed -into a corner, looking flippantly out of place amid these scholarly -surroundings. Below the mantelshelf was a rack containing a row of -pipes. Set about wherever a space allowed were vases of freshly cut -flowers. - -The contradictions of the room suggested that it had once been a man's -den, but had now been taken over by a woman. This seemed to indicate -that the owner of the house was actually a widow. - -Almost the whole of the wall confronting the door was occupied by a tall -French window, which opened directly on a lawn. Shrubs grew waist-high -about it. Instinct told him that this was the likeliest approach for -the other person, by whose order his kidnaping had been plotted. He felt -convinced that this person would prove to be a woman, but he was taking -no chances. With the night behind her, she could spy on him for hours -without being detected. She might be spying on him now. - -Assuming a listless manner, he seated himself to one side of the -fireplace. Out of the tail of his eye, without seeming to do so, he -watched the shadowy panes. His right hand was thrust into his pocket, -gripping the revolver. - -After the lapse of some minutes, he heard in the passage the widow's -returning footsteps. Outside the door she halted, fumbling at the -handle. Giving up the attempt, she called to him to open. Just as he was -rising, a face, tense with eagerness, lifted itself out of the bushes, -peering in on him. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FOURTH--HE BECOMES PART OF THE GAME - - -I - - -THE face hung there against the darkness for a second; then the leaves -closed over it as it was stealthily withdrawn. In the utterness of his -astonishment, Hindwood all but gave himself away. It was not the face he -had expected. - -Masking his excitement with a yawn, he turned his back on the window and -stepped toward the door, opening it sufficiently to thrust his head into -the passage, but not wide enough to permit the watcher in the bushes to -learn anything of the person with whom he talked. He found his captress -standing just beyond the threshold, carrying a tray, which accounted for -her awkwardness. - -“You won't have to dine in the village,” she explained. Then, catching -his strange expression, “What has happened?” - -“Some one was to come to-night,” he whispered: “the person who gave -orders for my kidnaping. Isn't that so? She was to enter through the -window from the lawn, while you held me prisoner at the revolver's -point.” - -“Is she here?” - -“No, but a man who is her enemy--a Major Cleasby. He's hiding directly -in her path. He supposed you were she when you tried the door. He showed -his face. Is there any way in which we can warn her?” - -The widow set down her tray. Her eyes met his searchingly. “If the man -were there, you wouldn't want to save her.” - -“Why not? You think I've invented the man in the bushes in order that -Santa may be scared away? I'm no more afraid of Santa than I was of you. -Besides, in your absence I've stolen your revolver. Ah, that convinces -you! The man's her husband and a secret service agent. I can feel his -eyes in my back. If you don't warn her, she'll be caught. There must -have been some prearranged signal. What was it?” - -Instead of answering, she pressed nearer, glancing fearfully across -her shoulder into the unlighted hall. Her voice came so faintly that he -could only just hear her. - -“She wouldn't spare us. Why should you and I--? You don't know what she -intended.” - -He smiled grimly. “I can guess. I was to have been her scapegoat for the -Rogovich murder. She was staging a new version of what happened in the -woods of Vincennes. Whether she escaped or was brought to trial, I was -to have been arrested. By that time she would have clothed me with the -appearance of her guilt. I was to have figured as her lover and the -Prince's rival. The motive for my crime was to have been jealousy. The -old story--an innocent man dying in her stead!” - -“If you think you know that, why should you, unless you are her lover?” - -“Because she's a woman.” - -Her hands seized his, coaxing him from the doorway into the darkened -passage. “For the love of God, go!” she implored. “I give you back your -parole.” - -Drawing her to him, he held her fast. “Don't struggle. He might hear -you. You decoyed me. You trapped me. Why this change? What makes you so -concerned for my safety?” - -“I didn't know,” she panted, “the kind of man you are.” - -“What kind?” - -Her heart beat wildly. She lay against him unstirring, her face averted. -The moment he released her, she burst forth into new pleading. - -“For my sake. I beg of you.” - -Into the grimness of his smiling there stole a gleam of tenderness. “And -leave you? I guess not. What's the signal?” - -“The piano.” - -“Come, then,” he said, “you shall play for me. While you play, if we -mask our expressions, we can talk of what we choose. Outwardly, to -deceive the man in the bushes, we must act a part. I'm an old friend. -I've dropped in unexpectedly. You've provided me with supper. While -I eat, we chatter and laugh. You sit at the piano and sing for me -occasionally. When the hour for Santa's arrival is past, I take my -leave. If you're brave, we can carry the farce through. Are you game?” - -For answer she picked up the tray and stepped into the room, smiling -back at him as he followed. - -“I'm your humble servant, as always, Mr. Hind-wood, but I have only two -hands and they're occupied. If you'll bring up that table--yes, set it -before the fire. That's right. You must be comfortable, if I'm to sing -for you.” - - -II - - -She won't come now.” - -The words reached him in a sigh. The pale hands fluttered from the -keyboard. The fair head dropped. Almost instantly she straightened -herself, banishing her appearance of weariness. “Don't think that I'm -showing the white feather. It's only that I'm exhausted. She won't come -now. I'm sure of it.” Then, bending forward with a nervous tremor, “I -daren't look round. Has he gone?” - -Hindwood pushed back his chair from before the hearth. For the moment he -did not answer. He was striving to restore the spell which the intrusion -of her fear had broken. Glancing at her sideways, he regarded her -quietly where she sat at the piano in her widow's garb. Through the -window at her back he caught a glimpse of the garden, shadowy and -patched with moonlight. Above the silence he heard the rumble of waves, -sifting the pebbles on the shore. Who was she, this woman who possessed -the magic to enchant him? Who had been her husband? What kind of man? -Had she loved him? How long since he had died? There were so many -questions. - -She had persuaded him into following her, well knowing that he believed -her to be Santa. She had met his discovery of her impersonation with a -threat. When the luck was all in her favor, with the panic of a stricken -conscience she had thrown in her hand. For the past two hours, in this -cozy room, she had surrounded him with shy intimacies of affection, to -the end that the unseen spectator, listening outside the panes, might -be beguiled. Apparently the deception had succeeded; the spectator had -given no sign. It had succeeded too well for Hindwood. It had roused -in him the longing that, behind her pretense of friendship, there might -lurk a genuine emotion of liking. He had tried to forget that the scene -was stage-set. He had wanted to believe that it was real. - -“Has he gone?” - -There was a break in her voice. - -He pulled himself together. “Do you wish me to make certain?” - -Rising, he lounged over to the piano as though to select a sheet from -the pile of music. In a flash he turned, wrenching wide the doors of the -French-window, and was across the step in a bound. Nothing rose from the -shadows to disturb the peace of the night. Stooping by the bushes, he -made a hurried examination. - -“Come,” he called. Then, seeing how she pressed her hands against her -mouth, “There's no need to fear.” - -When she was standing by his side, he explained: “To-morrow you might -think that I'd tricked you. I want you to see for yourself. Here's where -he was hiding when he peered in on me. The ground's trampled. The bushes -are bent back.” - -“He may be still here,” she whispered, “in the garden--somewhere.” - -Hindwood smiled reassuringly into her upturned face. “He wouldn't do you -any harm if he were. Remember he's a secret service agent. As a matter -of fact, he ought to make you feel safe.” - -“Safe!” She knotted her hands against her breast. “Shall I ever feel -safe? Oh, if I could confess--to you, to any one!” - -“If it would help----” - -Without giving him a chance to finish his sentence, she plucked at his -sleeve with the eagerness of a child. “Would you?” - -“What?” - -“Let me?” - - -III - - -They had reentered the room, fastening the window securely behind them. -When that was done, they had drawn the curtains across the panes. -She had flung herself into a chair beside the fire and was waiting -impatiently for him to join her. But he hovered in the center of the -room, fingering his watch and looking troubled. - -“What's delaying you?” she asked without turning. - -He slipped his watch into his pocket. “I had no idea it was so late.” - -“Does that matter? Till morning there are no trains.” - -“I was thinking of hotels.” - -“They'll be shut.” - -“Precisely. So what am I----?” - -“Stay with me,” she said lazily. - -The room became profoundly silent. The darkened house seemed to listen. -Had he plumbed a new depth in this drama of betrayal at the moment -when he hoped he had discovered loyalty? He had been deceived by women -before. Had he not allowed Santa to deceive him, he would not have been -here. He might tell himself that this woman was different. If a man did -not tell himself that each new woman was different, the mischief of love -would end. - -He caught sight of her flaxen head and became ashamed of his -reflections. It wasn't possible, if the soul was foul, that the flesh -should be so fair. She had the wonder of the dawn in her eyes. Nothing -that she had said or done could belie the frankness of her innocence. -Standing behind her chair, he gazed down in puzzlement at her -graciousness. - -“There are conventions. We may have met unconventionally, but neither of -us can afford to ignore them.” - -Without looking up, she answered, “If you were as alone as I am, you -could afford to ignore anything.” - -“Perhaps I am.” - -“Then you understand.” - -“I think I understand.” He spoke gently. “I suppose no man can ever be -so lonely as a woman, especially as a woman who has lost her happiness, -but I, too, have been lonely. Everybody has. The cowardice which comes -of loneliness is responsible for nearly every wickedness. Most thefts, -and cheatings, and even murders are committed in an effort to gain -companionship. But you can't elude loneliness by short-cuts. Wherever -you go, it's with you from birth to death. Brave people make it their -friend. Cowards let it become their tempter. Loneliness is no excuse for -wrong-doing, nor even for surrendering to the appearance of it.” - -“Preaching?” - -“No. Trying to share with you my experience. Until this afternoon, you -didn't know that I existed. All your life up to the last five minutes, -you've been able to do without me. Don't be greedy and spoil everything -before it's started. There's tomorrow.” - -“Why wait for to-morrow when I trust you now?” - -He stooped lower. She had become irresistibly dear. In a rush he had -found the clue to her character--her childishness. She couldn't bear to -postpone the things she wanted. - -“Trust me! I wonder! You're the first woman to have the daring to tell -me. I'm not sure that I feel complimented; at this hour of night one has -to be a little cold to be trusted like that. But I trust you--which -is strange after all that's happened. The person I distrust is myself. -You're beautiful. The most beautiful----” - -“Am I more beautiful than Santa?” - -He caught the vision of her blue eyes glinting up at him. There was -nothing roguish in their expression. They were pathetic in their -earnestness. Her throat was stretched back, white and firm. Her lips -were vivid and parted. Her question sounded like the ruse of a coquette, -yet she seemed wholly unaware of her attraction. - -He drew himself erect, staring at the wall that he might forbid himself -the danger of looking at her. His voice came harsh and abrupt. “Your -confession can keep till morning. One can say and unsay anything. It's -deeds that can never be unsaid.” - -He had reached the door. She spoke dully. “You despise me.” And then, -“All my life I've waited for to-morrows. Go quickly.” - -Glancing across his shoulder he saw her, a mist of gold in a great -emptiness. Slowly he turned back. - -“Can't you guess the reason for my going? I reverence you too much.” - -Clutching at his hands, she dragged herself to her feet. “It's -friendship that I'm asking. What's the use of reverence? Like me a -little. You'd do more for Santa. Only to like me wouldn't cost you -much.” - - -IV - - -I should have died if you'd left me.” He was feeling both amused and -annoyed at his surrender; at the same time he was on the alert for -developments. She had extinguished the lamps. The sole illumination was -the firelight. For what reason she had done it, whether as an aid to -confession or as a discouragement to watchers, she allowed him to guess. -Whatever the reason, the precaution was wise, but it increased the -atmosphere of liaison. He had pushed back his chair to the extreme -corner of the hearth, so that he was scarcely discernible. She sat -where the glow from the coals beat up into her face. He saw her profile -against a background of darkness. - -“Died!” He pursed his lips in masculine omniscience. “You'd have gone to -your bed and had a good night's rest.” - -“I shouldn't. I was in terror. I used to be afraid only by night; now -it's both day and night. You're never afraid. You weren't afraid even -when I----. How do you manage it?” - -“By doing things, instead of thinking about the things that can be done -to me. I've learned that what we fear never happens--fear's a waste of -time. Fear's imagination playing tricks by pouncing out of cupboards. -It's the idiot of the intellect, gibbering in the attic after nightfall. -IPs a coward, spreading cowardice with false alarms. It's a liar and a -libeller; life's a thousand times kinder than fear would have us paint -it.” - -She sighed happily. “It was kind to me to-night.” He waited for her -confession to commence. She leaned back, her eyes half shut, watching -the red landscape in the dancing flames. Time moved gently. Night seemed -eternal. Her contentment proved contagious. Neither of them spoke. -Nothing mattered save the comfort of her presence. In a hollow of the -coals he invented a dream cottage to which he would take her. It had a -scarlet wood behind it and mountains with ruby-tinted caves. As the fire -settled, the mirage faded. - -“Does it strike you as comic,” he questioned, “that you and I should sit -here after midnight and that I shouldn't even know what to call you?” - -“Varensky. Anna Varensky.” - -“Russian?” - -She nodded. - -“But are you Russian?” - -“I'm Ivan Varensky's wife.” - -“You say it proudly, as though I ought to know who Ivan Varensky was.” - -She turned her head slowly, wondering at him. “There's only one Ivan -Varensky: the man who wanted to be like Christ.” - -Hindwood jerked himself into wakefulness. “I'm afraid I need -enlightenment. I don't----” - -“You do,” she contradicted patiently, “or rather, you will when I've -helped you to recall him. How hurt he would be, poor Ivan, that a man of -your standing should so soon have forgotten him! He hoped to make such -a noise in the world. After Czardom had fallen, he aimed to be a savior, -healing men with words. But he wanted to be crucified at once. He -cared more for Calvary than for the road that led up to it. He was an -emotionalist, impatient of Gethsemane; it was the crown of thorns that -he coveted. Having only words with which to save humanity, he dashed -all over Russia in special trains, speechifying at every halting-place, -foretelling his approaching end. He had no time to waste; he believed -his days were numbered. His message was always the same, whether he -was addressing the Duma, armies marching into action, or a handful of -peasants: he was about to die for Russia. Then suddenly Trotzky -and Lenine came. They were men who did things; they overthrew his -government. Worse, still, they refused to fulfill his prophecies; -instead of executing him, they bundled him into exile. To be forced to -live, when he had pledged himself to die, was a more cruel crucifixion -than any he had anticipated. He found himself nailed to the cross of -ridicule with no one to applaud his sacrifice. He was left with nothing -to talk about, for the thing he had talked about had not happened. He -was an idealist, an inspirer, a prophet, but because death had avoided -him, there was no gospel to write. Having climbed the long road to -Calvary, he had the tragedy to survive. Don't think I'm belittling him. -I loved him. It was a proud, but not an easy task to be the wife of a -man who wanted to be like Christ.” - -She collapsed into silence, sitting lost in thought, her arms hanging -limply by her sides. He wondered what pictures she was seeing in the -fire--armed men marching, revolution, palaces going up in dame. - -Of course he remembered the Varensky she had described--the Varensky -who, in the darkest hour of the war, had hurled himself like a -knight-errant to the rescue of the Allies. It was he who was to have -consolidated Russia, leading its millions in an endless tide to the -defeat of the enemies of righteousness. It was freedom he had promised; -freedom to everybody. He had preached that every man was good in -himself, that the things that made men bad were laws. Therefore he had -swept all laws aside. He had done away with compulsion, repealed death -penalties, thrown prisons wide. For a day and night he had held the -stage, a shining figure, adored by despairing eyes. Then the slaves whom -he had released from restraints had surged over him. He had vanished, -trampled beneath ungrateful feet, and Russia had become a mob. - -So this was Varensky's wife! He felt awed. The romantic heroism of her -husband's failure clothed her with a wistful sacredness. Three years ago -he could not have approached her. He would scarcely have dared to have -regarded her as a woman. The hysteria of the moment had canonized -her. Streets through which she drove in Petrograd had been lined with -kneeling throngs. There had been something medieval in the spontaneity -of her worship. It had been rumored that she was a bride immaculate; -that her purity was the secret of her husband's strength. Her face made -the story credible. It had the virgin innocence of a saint's. And here -he was allowed to sit beside her, with three years gone, sharing her -hearth in this obscure place of hiding! - -“You were a Russian Joan of Arc,” he declared enthusiastically. “How -well I remember all the legends one read about you. And Varensky---- -It doesn't matter that he failed; his was the most gallant figure of the -entire war. When every nation was embittered, he set us an example of -how not to hate. He refused to kill, when all of us were slaying. He -had the courage of meekness; in that at least he followed Christ. What -became of him? There was a report----” - -“There have been many reports,” she interrupted sadly. “Lest the latest -be true, I wear mourning. I wear mourning for him always. Before his -fall I was his perpetual bride; since his fall I am his perpetual widow. -He wishes to be dead, so to please him-----” - -“Then he's still alive?” Immediately he was conscious of the indecency -of his disappointment. - -She gazed into the darkness with a mild surprise. “I do not know. I -never know. That's the torture of it. He was always less a man than a -spirit. I begin to think he can not die.” - -“You want him----?” - -If she had heard his uncompleted question, she ignored it. With folded -hands she stared into the red heart of the fire. Behind her, across the -walls and ceiling as flames leaped and flickered, shadows took fantastic -shapes. When she spoke, as though she were talking to herself, her words -came softly. - -“He was such a child--so dear, so vain, so intense, so sensitive. -Why did he marry me, if it was only to resign me? He treated me as he -treated Russia. We were both waiting for him to take us in his arms. -But it was always ideals--things one can't embrace--that drew out his -affections. Had he loved humanity less and individuals more, he -could have gone so far. There was something monstrous about his -self-abnegations. Perhaps he denied himself the things for which he did -not care. He wanted to seem nobler than any one else. Through egotism -he missed his chance. Had he planned to live, he could have killed his -enemies and prevented revolution. There was a time when he could have -crushed both Lenine and Trotzky. But he had to be too noble. 'No,' he -said, 'if their ideal is more right than mine, it will conquer. Truth -can not be silenced by slaughter.' It was his inhuman magnanimity that -defeated him. So Lenine and Trotzky grew strong and crushed him. Because -he had planned to die, millions are starving, and Russia is in chaos.” - -“But he doesn't own it?” - -“In his heart--yes. Like a General who has blundered, the vision of lost -battlefields is forever in his eyes--the forests of white crosses! His -egotism is gone. He wants to make atonement; to perish seems the only -way. Any one who would delay him, even though she were a woman who loved -him, is his enemy. In his remorse he hounds death as other men avoid it. -He's head of the counterrevolution and goes continually into Russia for -the overthrow of Bolshevism. Not that he hopes for success, but that he -may be put against a wall and shot.” - -“And always he returns?” - -“Always until this last time.” - -Her voice sank away in a whisper. He eyed her with misgiving. What was -it she desired? - -“I read something of this. He's been missing for a long time?” - -“A long time.” - -Coming out of the shadows, so that she could see his face, he drew his -chair close to hers. - -“And what has this to do with your confession?” - - -V - - -She flinched, as though he had made a motion to strike her. “My -confession! Ah, yes! I forgot.” She tried to smile. Stretching out her -hand, she touched him in a timid appeal for understanding. Taking it -between his own he held it fast. - -“Like that,” he said, “as though it were a bird that's tired. It -isn't its own nest, but it's safe and warm; let it rest till it grows -stronger.” - -“You're good,” she faltered. “Most good men are hard.” - -“Maybe,” he laughed. “But I'm not good. On the other hand, I don't -suppose I'm bad. I'm simply a man who's always had to fight, so I know -what it's like to be up against it. You're up against it at present. You -can see nothing before you but a high stone wall with no way round it. -I've been there, and I've found that when you can't get round a wall, -there's usually a door. What do you say? Shall we look for a door -together?” - -“I have.” She sank her head. “Every day and night in three interminable -years I've looked for it. I'm like a person lost in a fog, standing -still, listening, running, falling.” - -“Scared to death?” - -She nodded. - -“Then don't be scared; stop running. Wait for your fear to catch up with -you. If you face it, it'll shrink to nothing. The feet of a pursuer are -like an army. What's causing your panic? Varensky? The thought that he -may not return?” - -“No.” - -“That he may?” - -“No.” - -“Then?” - -“That he may go on wasting me forever.” - -She waited for him to say something. When he remained silent, she bent -forward staring vacantly into the hearth. “Perhaps I'm a coward and -unfaithful. Perhaps if he'd been successful---- I know what he thinks of -me: that I'm a fair-weather wife. But I'm not. If it would help him, I'd -give my life for him. He doesn't want my life. He doesn't want my body. -He wants the one thing that I can't give him--that I should believe in -him. There are people who still believe in him--the Little Grandmother. -There are others, like Prince Rogovich, who pretended to believe in him -that he might use him as a cat's-paw. He says good-by to me for the last -time and vanishes. I wait in retirement for news of his execution. At -the end of two months, three months, half a year, he comes back. Then -the rehearsing for his martyrdom commences all afresh. If there were -anything I could do! But to be wasted for no purpose!” - -She turned her head wearily, glancing at him sideways. “You called me -the Joan of Russia. I was almost. There was a time when not to be loved -and not to be a mother seemed a small price to pay for sainthood. It was -my happiness against the happiness of millions. But now----” Her eyes -filmed over. - -“But now------?” he prompted. - -She brushed her tears away with pitiful defiance. “I want to be a -woman--to be everything in some man's life.” - -“Perhaps you are in his, but he doesn't show it.” - -She seemed to listen for laughter. Then, “No,” she said. “When I try to -be a woman, I play Satan to him.” - -“And that's the wall?” - -“Not all of it. There's Santa.” - -In the swift march of his emotions he had almost forgotten Santa. As -though she had been drowning and he had turned back from rescuing her, -the mention of her name stung him with reproach. - -“What of Santa?” he asked in a low voice. - - -VI - - -She's in love with my husband.” - -He let go her hand. “Do you mind if I smoke? Perhaps you'll join me? -No?” - -He took his time while he lit his cigarette. Then, speaking slowly, “I -can't believe all the evil that I've heard about this woman. And yet I -ought. Every fresh person has told me something increasingly vile. -To make a case against her, I have only to take all the trouble she's -caused me. I meet her on a liner and part with her on landing; from that -moment I have no peace. I'm pestered by strangers accusing and defending -her. My room is entered by spies. I find an anonymous note pinned to -my pillow. I'm lured out of London into the heart of the country on -the pretext that she's in danger and I can help her. You know the rest. -Until the happenings of tonight, the most probable explanation seemed to -be that she had taken a secret fancy to me and had turned to me in her -distress, when she found herself suspected of a crime. That theory won't -hold water any longer.” - -“It might.” - -“It couldn't. You tell me she's in love with your husband.” - -“Santa can be in love with as many men as serve her purpose. The only -loyalty to which she's constant is the memory of her dead child.” - -He shook himself irritably. “Nothing that you' or any one has told me -explains her. She left on me an impression of nobility which absolutely -contradicts all this later information. Until I met you, it almost -seemed there was a conspiracy on foot to poison my mind. What she is -said to have done may all be true, but I can't help searching behind -her actions for a higher motive. You'd clear matters up if you'd tell me -frankly how it is that you come into the picture.” - -“The picture!” She shrank back from him like a timid child. - -Controlling himself, he spoke patiently. “Do I need to be explicit? You -ought to hate her. She's in love with your husband. When, a few hours -ago, it was a case of warning her of the trap she was walking into, you -were reluctant to give the signal. 'She wouldn't spare us,' you said; -'so why should you and I----?' And yet you're her accomplice. -It was you whom I followed. It was you who, when you'd got me into this -room, tried to hold me at the revolver's point.” - -She buried her face in the hollow of her arm. Her voice came muffled. -“It was I.” - -He waited for her to say more. She made no sound--not even of sobbing. - -“It was a dangerous game to play,” he reminded her. “You didn't know -your man or how he would take it. You must have had some strong motive. -You might have killed me without even intending. What a risk you -ran, doing a thing like that singlehanded! For a moment, when I first -entered, everything was touch and go.” - -And still she made no reply. - -The fire had burned low. He emptied coals on it. To bridge the -embarrassment of her silence, he went over to the window, pulling aside -the curtains, and stood gazing out at the glory of the night. The moon -rode high. Trees were clumped and motionless. The crooning of waves made -a continual lullaby. - -She was married, and she was wasted. She was not wanted, and she was not -released. She had a husband who refused to live and could not contrive -to die. As a substitute for passion she had tried sainthood; it had not -satisfied. - -He let the curtains fall. Turning, he gazed back at the black-garbed -figure bowed in the half-circle of firelight. Her golden hair had broken -loose. It poured across her shoulders and gathered at her feet in a -pool. At the moment she looked more a Magdalene than a saint. And this -was the woman who had made men brave by her purity--to whom a nation had -turned in its agony! - -A flood of pity swept over him. Poor, narrow shoulders to have borne -such a burden! Poor, virgin feet to have come so long a journey! Poor, -mortal hands to have given such a blessing! She had been robbed and cast -aside. - -The cruelty of idealists! She was their victim. What did they attain? -Idealists slew happiness on the altar of dreams that a future happiness -might result from it. Though their dreams were mistaken, they lost -nothing; they snatched their sensation of godlike righteousness. But who -could restore the happiness of others which their frenzy had destroyed? - -If this time Varensky had had the decency to die, she was free. He -himself could take her. But would she want him? He had no attractions. -All that he could offer would be to serve her. He couldn't place her -back on her pinnacle of fame. Instead of crowds, he would be her only -worshiper. Would that satisfy a woman who had been a saint for a day? -He could promise her rest and protection. He could take her feet in -his hands and guide them over rough places. And if she wanted to be a -woman---- - -Crossing the room on tiptoe, he stood over her. Sinking to his knee, he -placed a hand on her shoulder. - -“Won't you look up? I'm not here to hurt you. I wouldn't even judge you. -Life's been hard.” - -When she gave no sign, he spoke again. - -“I'm a man and a stranger. You're a wife. But you've told me so much. -You're wounded. You can't go on by yourself.” - -She moved. He knew now that she was listening. - -“There's that door in the wall we were going to find. Perhaps we've -found it. Let me be your friend. It would be foolish and wrong for me to -tell you that I----” - -She raised her head. Her hair fell back, and her eyes gazed out at him -with hungry intensity. “Don't say it,” she implored. “Varensky----” - -“But if he's dead? If I can bring you sure proof?” - -For answer she pressed his hand against her bosom. - - -VII - - -He seated himself at her feet, his arms clasped about his knees as -if crouched before a camp-fire. How much meaning had she read into his -implied confession? He felt happy; happier than ever before in his -life, and yet, if she were the cause of his happiness, the odds were -all against him. She had promised him nothing. She could promise him -nothing. All he knew of her was what she had told him. His elation might -prove to be no more than an emotion that would fade in the chill light -of morning. - -“It would be foolish and wrong for me to tell you----” The words had -risen to his lips unpremeditated. He had not realized that he cared for -her until they were uttered. He had merely felt an immense compassion, -an overwhelming desire to comfort her. That he should care for her at -all was preposterous. It was paying her no compliment. Love that was -worth the having required a more permanent incentive than physical -beauty. Her mind and her character were a riddle to him. If his passion -was no passing mood and she were indeed a widow, it would be her mind -and her character that he might one day marry. He ought to have foreseen -that something of this sort would be sure to happen between a man and -woman left alone after midnight. - -But the triumphant self whom she had roused in him grinned impudently at -this cautious moralizing. He gloried in the magnificent unwisdom of his -indiscretion. He was surprised and delighted at this newly-discovered -capacity for recklessness. When experience was growing stale, he had -broken through limitations and found himself gazing on an unguessed -landscape where adventure commenced afresh. He could still feel the -softness of her flesh against his hand. That sudden act of tenderness -had altered all their relations. - -He glanced up at her shyly. She, too, was dreaming. Her lips were -smiling uncertainly; there was a far-away, brooding expression in her -eyes. The blackness of her mourning merged with the shadows, making her -seem disembodied; all he could see distinctly was the golden torrent of -her hair framing the pallor of her face. - -“They knelt to you in Petrograd. I don't wonder.” - -“Poor people! It did them no good. I never want any one else to do it.” - -“But I kneel to you. I crouch at your feet.” - -“I would rather be loved than worshiped.” She restrained him gently. -“Not yet.” - -“Then, until I may love, I kneel to you.” - -“You ought to find me repellent. No, let me speak. I own to you that I'm -married, and here I sit with you alone, not knowing whether my husband -lives or is buried. I must be wicked--more wicked than I guessed. Ivan -was right; he used to tell me I played Satan to him. These hands, which -look so soft and white, are cruel. This face, which seems so gentle, is -a lie. This hair, which makes a pillow for your head, is a snare. One -good man has already cast me aside. Rather than love me, he preferred -death. And you are good. How near I came to killing you!” She bent over -him, taking his face between her hands. “_You!_ Do you understand?” She -had drawn his head back against her knees. Her lips all but touched him. -He could feel the fanning of her breath. Her voice came pantingly, as -though she dreaded her own question: “What can you see in me?” - -“Blue eyes, like a glimpse of heaven.” - -“Tell me truly.” - -“What can I see?” He stared up adoringly. “A woman who's still a child. -A woman who's been cheated. A woman whose arms are empty. A woman who -sits outside a tomb, dreaming of life.” - -“Not of life,” she corrected softly; “of being allowed to live for a -man.” - -“For me, perhaps?” - -She smiled vaguely. - -“Without knowing what kind of a man I am?” - -“Do you know me?” She sat upright, gazing straight before her. “You -don't even know why I brought you.” - -“Why?” - -“It seems strange to tell you now. It seems like a forgotten sadness, so -forgotten that it might belong to some one else. And yet once it hurt. I -brought you that I might win back my husband. Don't stiffen. Look up and -see how I'm smiling. I was never his in your sense. I was an image in -a niche, whose hands he kissed. I was a mascot, bringing him good luck. -The woman part of me he postponed superstitiously till his cause should -be won. It will never be won now.” - -“But he warned you before he married you?” - -She shook her head. “He made sure of me. At first I was proud to be -included in his sacrifice. Then failure made it all absurd. I was sorry -for him. I knew only one way to comfort him. But because he had failed, -he became the more determined to deny himself. Instead of comforting -him, I became his tempter. Then Santa----” - -Hindwood pulled himself together and bent forward, glowering into the -fire. “I can't understand all this talk of sacrifice. It sounds so -confoundedly unpractical. As far as I can make out, your husband's idea -of virtue was to abstain from everything that makes life worth living. -He didn't profit any one by abstaining. All he did was to narrow -himself. If he'd wanted to be an ascetic, why couldn't he have done the -thing thoroughly and played the game? There was no need to drag you into -it.” - -“There was no need,” she assented quietly, “but to have me and to -withstand me made him appear more dedicated. He tantalized himself with -the thought of me and used me as a knife with which to gash himself. I -was a part of the road to Calvary he was treading in order that Russia -might be saved. It gratified his pride to make the road spectacular. -Then, when we were in exile and he was no longer a power, Santa came, -the ruthless idealist--his very opposite.” - -“Ruthless, perhaps! But I shouldn't call her an idealist.” - -“She is--an idealist who, to gain her ends, stoops to any baseness. -She's an avenging angel, beautiful and sinister. She's one of the few -revolutionaries who knows what she wants; because she knows, she gets -it. Varensky never knew. His head was in the clouds. He lost sight of -his purpose in a mist of words.” - -“What does she want?” As he asked the question, he glanced back at her -where she gleamed like a phantom. - -“She wants----” There was a pause during which the only sound was the -struggle of the distant surf. “She wants to make men pay for what they -do to children. All her crimes---- She's a mother, robbed of her young; -in her own fierce way, she's taken all the children of the world to her -breast.” - -“But men don't do anything.” - -She caught his tone of puzzlement. “Oh yes. Each generation commits -ferocious sins against the coming generation that can't protect itself. -It's children who pay for wars and every social injustice. Men live like -a marauding army, pillaging the land between birth and death. They pass -on and leave to children the settlement of their reckless debts. Take -this latest war; five million children in Europe alone are dying -of starvation at this moment. Santa's marked down the men who are -responsible for their suffering; silently, one by one, she drugs them -with her beauty and exacts the penalty.” - -“Prince Rogovich?” - -“Probably. He was raising funds for a new carnage.” - -“But where do I come in? You said that you'd brought me here to help you -win your husband.” - -“She's in love with Ivan. To be loved by Santa is like witnessing the -signature to one's death warrant. Perhaps she's a Bolshevik agent--the -only people to whom the Bolsheviks are merciful are children. Perhaps -she's really in love with him. She plays with him like a cat with a -mouse.” - -“And he?” - -“He's indifferent, as he is to every woman. Yet because she's -treacherous and he wants to die, he takes her with him on many of his -journeys. I hoped that if I could give you to her, she might spare him. -That was before I knew you. I was beside myself with suspense. Ivan has -been gone so long; to do her bidding seemed like giving him his last -chance of life. She's in danger and in hiding. You're the one person who -can prove her guilt. I thought that if I put you in her power, I'd place -her under an obligation, so that----” - -“And now?” - -She covered her face with her hands. “God forgive me, it's your safety -that counts--not Ivan's.” He knelt against her, plucking her hands -aside. “Look at me,” he commanded. “So long as your husband lives, his -safety comes first. In saving me, you might betray him. If, in snatching -our happiness, we connived at his death, his shadow would always stand -between us. I'm still your prisoner; I've not taken back my parole. -Here's your revolver.” He drew it from his pocket and laid it on her -knees. “Fulfill your bargain.” - -“How?” - -“Take me to Santa.” - -“But Ivan--already he may be----” - -“Until we know, we'll play the game by him.” When she hesitated, he -added, “I wouldn't be friends with any woman who couldn't be loyal.” - -Her hands groped after the revolver and found it. Forcing back her -tears, she answered, “Nor would I with any man.” - -Rising to his feet, he helped her to rise. “Take me to her.” - - -VIII - - -As they stepped into the garden, the first restlessness of morning was -in the air. The moon had vanished. Stars were going out. Along the low -level of sea-line dawn cast a sickly shadow. It was as though night were -an indigo curtain behind which silver forms were moving. - -She led the way across the lawn, through a door in the wall, and out on -the short, crisp turf. She had thrown a cloak about her and pulled the -hood over her head. It made her look cowled and elfin. It was the hour -when everything is fantastic. - -He had an oppressive sense of unreality, as though this were all a dream -from which he would shortly rouse. He stood aloof from recent happenings -and surveyed his share in them in an elderly, derisive fashion. What -were all these promises that he had been exchanging like a gallant? -He tried to recall his exact words. To what extent had he committed -himself? He had crossed the Atlantic that he might multiply his -fortune--for no other reason. He was neither an idealist nor a -sentimentalist; he had realized the chance that a bankrupt Europe -offered and had come to take advantage of it. What would these derelicts -of the catastrophe think of him if they guessed his real purpose? They -were willfully, even contemptibly, unpractical; yet their perverted -unselfishness troubled his conscience. To spend half one's years in -exile, like the Little Grandmother, might not correct injustice, but at -least it was a brave protest. To plan to die, like Varensky, because he -had failed to rescue humanity, was a counsel of despair, but it had its -gleam of nobility. To assassinate, like Santa, men whose statesmanship -you did not comprehend was the madness of a zealot, but she at least -staked her life against theirs. Into none of these undertakings did -profit enter. It was disquieting to find himself among people so -determined to convert the world to altruism. The world had been like -this always; it would be like this to the end. If they were once to -sense who he was, they would regard him as their enemy. He was walking -into danger with his eyes wide open. His wisest plan would be to sink -into the shadows and take the first train back to sanity. To do that he -would have to leave her. - -And why not? What did he owe her? What was she to him? She belonged to -another man. Waiting for him to die, or to make sure of his death, might -prove a tedious business--a humiliating one, most certainly. And yet to -leave her now---- - -She had been going on ahead--or was it his steps that had been lagging? -She had halted. As he came up, he felt the firm surface of the road -beneath his tread. - -In the gloom she laid her hand on his arm. “If you've promised too -much----” - -That determined him. “I keep my promises,” he answered shortly. - -Walking side by side, they struggled on against the mass of -all-surrounding vagueness. It seemed like a strong, gray tide pressing -on their breasts, against which they made no headway. - -What was to be the upshot of it? She was guiding him to Santa. His -lips twisted. It would take more than Santa to inspire him with terror. -England wasn't the jungle. A man couldn't disappear unnoticed. Supposing -in the next half-hour Santa were to do away with him, what would she -gain by it? She would have silenced his testimony in the Rogo-vich -affair, but she would have added to the evidence. If she were the woman -she was painted, she would be too wary to do that. No, she would not -attempt to kill him. Then what was her urgency? - -Gradually night was fading. The paleness from the sea was spreading. -It drove like smoke, in billowy banks of vapor, creeping low along -the ground. Live things were waking. In separate, plaintive warnings, -early-risen birds were calling. Across the road ahead rabbits scurried. -Against the formless vacancy of sky the rounded shoulders of the uplands -became discernible. He took notice of their direction. She was leading -him to the abandoned camp. - -“Madame Varensky.” - -She started. “Not that.” - -“I'm sorry. It was the only name I knew to call you. What do they -usually----?” - -“Anna.” - -She came close like a child and stood gazing up at him. - -He stooped and spoke gently. “You're a wild rose. Once more let me look -into your eyes. It's so strange that you should care for me.” - -“More strange to me,” she said. - -He placed his hands on her shoulders. “There's something that I want you -to remember. If harm comes to either of us, believe always that it was -only good that I intended.” - -“Whatever you brought me would be good,” she murmured. - -“I wish it might.” He tumbled the hood back so that he could see her -hair. “When a man loves a woman who's already married, it doesn't often -bring happiness. It wouldn't be right that it should. It isn't our fault -that this has happened, but it will be if we misuse it.” - -“We shan't misuse it.” - -“There's something else.” He groped after his words. “Before I came to -you, I'd been foolish. There's no sense in regretting; if I hadn't been -foolish, we shouldn't have met. I thought that I was following Santa; -you can guess----” - -She inclined her head. - -“And there's one thing more. If your husband comes back, promise me -you'll forget.” - -She strained against him, so their lips were nearly touching. “Never.” - She spoke fiercely. And again, “Never. Though it's years and you -forget.” - -His hands slipped from her shoulders, lower and lower, till his arms -closed about her. “Rest,” he whispered, “if it's only for a moment, -poor, tired little bird.” - -Through the ghostly twilight of the autumn dawn they entered the -deserted camp. Before one of the hutments she halted and tapped. She -tapped again. There was no answer. Cautiously raising the latch, -she peered into the room. Beckoning to him, she slipped across the -threshold. - - -IX - - -The hut was empty. The floor was deep in dust. The ceiling was meshed -with cobwebs. Nailed across the window, just as the soldiers had left -it, a dingy curtain hung. Striking a match, he held it above his head. -At the far end he made out signs of occupancy. On a shelf was a loaf of -bread and near by a pitcher. In a corner, spread on the bare boards for a -bed, was a wrap. He stooped; it was Santa's cloak of sables. - -The match went out. He turned. “How long has she been here?” - -“From the time she knew she was suspected.” - -“She knew she was suspected at Plymouth. What made her motor all across -England to this?” He glanced round with pity at the poverty-stricken -forlornness. - -“She wanted to be near.” - -“What? It would be better to tell me.” - -“To the road out.” - -He lit a cigarette and considered. “So there are more people in it,” he -said at last, “than just the few that I have met! It's an organization. -I might have guessed. There are the people who helped the little old -lady to visit me undetected. There are the people who entered my room in -my absence. There's the foreign gentleman, who couldn't speak English, -who called for Santa in his car. But if this hut is on the road out, why -was she delaying?” - -“For you, perhaps.” - -“But she was risking her freedom every second. Why for me, Anna?” - -Before he had given her time to answer, his mind had leaped to a new -conjecture. “What if she's captured?” - -Suddenly the tragedy of this strange woman, temple-dancer, -revolutionary, avenger of children, became vivid. Her pain stung him as -though he had suffered it himself. He lived again the hunted hours -that must have been hers while she had listened in this dusty room. He -remembered her fascination, the grayness of her eyes, the fastidiousness -of her dress. What a contrast to these surroundings! How often she must -have crouched by that window, watching from behind the shabby curtain -for the approach of the pursuer! The men she had killed did not matter. -Probably they had deserved their death. His pity was reserved for -her. She had been the pampered darling of princes. Her whims had been -commands to lovers who themselves were rulers. - -No present had been too costly to purchase the ecstasy of her -complaisance. Her body had been a jewel, guarded, coveted, irrepeatable -in its beauty. Crimes had been committed for its possession. And this -was her end! He heard in memory the hoarse pleading of her voice, trying -vainly to convince him that love could make her good. - -The woman at his side was speaking. “We heard no sound. She was armed. -If they'd tried to take her, she'd have defended herself.” - -His thoughts came back. “Last night. Yes. If they'd taken her in the -garden. But they might have known she would be armed. Perhaps they -followed her. If they traced her to this hut, they might have waited -till she was sleeping----” - -She shook her head. “It isn't that. She's grown tired of delaying. She's -gone by the road out.” - -He frowned. “That's the second time you've used the phrase. Can't you -tell me plainly?” - -“If it's not too late, I'll show you.” - -She darted out of the hut. When he joined her in the open, she was -waiting impatiently to secure the door behind him. The moment it was -fastened, she set off at a run. She raced like a boy, with none of a -woman's awkwardness. With an occasional backward glance, up the long -deserted avenue of the camp she fled. At first he was content to follow -for the pleasure he had in watching her. She was so swift and young. -She was like a deer in her slenderness. Sudden eagerness had transformed -her. The hood had slipped back to her shoulders; the wind of her going -fluttered in her hair. - -Outside the camp she bore to the left in a direction leading further -afield. Over gorse and bracken dew had flung a silver net. The turf was -a tapestry sewn with jewels. Larks were springing up. The keen fragrance -of seaweed mingled with the honeyed perfumes of the land. - -He caught up with her. “Why?” he panted. - -She had no breath to waste in words. Turning on him a flushed and -laughing face, she pointed ahead. - -Just short of the cliff-edge, where the sheer drop began, she sank to -her knees, clasping her breast. While she recovered, he gazed about -him. He discovered no sign of the thing she was pursuing. The sea was -blanketed in mist. Above the blurred horizon, the red eye of the sun -stared at him. From the foot of the cliff came the lapping of waves. No -other sound. - -She had risen. He was about to speak. She pressed a finger to her lips. -Taking him by the hand, she led him to the edge. - -At first, as he gazed down, he saw only the crumbling face of the chalk. -Then he made out a winding path descending; it seemed no broader than a -track that a goat might follow. - -“What is it?” - -“Listen.” - -She dragged excitedly on his arm. - -Distinctly, above the lapping of waves, he heard the click of oars -working in oar-locks. Beneath the fog a vessel was hiding. It had -dropped a boat which was pulling toward the land. - -“The road out,” she whispered. - -“But Santa----” - -She nodded. “It's not so difficult as it looks. It was used by -smugglers. We use it----” - -She broke off. Oars were being shipped. The prow grounded. There was a -muttering of men's voices. Some sort of discussion. A pause. Then oars -were put out again. The rowing recommenced, growing fainter and fainter. - - -X - - -Gone!” - -She pressed against him in her gladness. - -Seeing the relief in her eyes, he questioned, “What does this mean to -you, Anna?” - -“Safety.” - -“Anything else?” - -“Freedom, perhaps.” - -“You mean you think that Santa had received word of your husband and -that that was why----?” - -“I don't want to think or mean; I only want to feel. It's as though I'd -been living in a prison and the door had been flung wide. I wasn't one -of them. They condemned me. In their hearts they despised me. I was too -weak. I couldn't bear their cross.” She clenched her hands against -her cheeks till the knuckles showed white. “What's the good of being -crucified? It's so much better to live and be glad for people.” - -“And Santa,” he asked, “where she's going, what will happen to her?” - -She raised her face. “Pain. She'll be hounded and hunted. She's getting -too well known. Prince Rogovich thought he recognized her. She'll be -always escaping, rushing from hiding to hiding, till one day---- To have -been loved so much and to be pushed out of life----” - -Behind the mist they heard the creak of ropes running over pulleys. -A gasoline engine was started. For an instant the shadow of a trawler -loomed through the wall of opaqueness. The tiller was thrust over. -She vanished. They stood very silently, listening and watching. In -imagination Hindwood followed the vessel's course. It was not of the -vessel he was thinking, but of the woman on board her. “To have been -loved so much and to be pushed out of life----” If he had had the -chance, what could he have done for her? She had fascinated him; but -he had not loved her. She was past reclaiming. Love with a woman of -her kind would have meant passion--nothing more. A fierce flame, -self-consuming! A slow degrading of an emotion that was fine! Yet he -was filled with pity and unreasoning remorse. Some day her enemies would -overtake her--good, respectable men like Major Cleasby; the good men who -by the injustice of their prejudices had made her what she was. - -“It's a chapter ended,” he said quietly. - -Slipping his arm through hers, as though she already belonged to him, -he was turning inland toward the peace of the rolling country, when -his step was arrested. He caught the sound of labored breathing and -the rattle of sliding chalk. Hands groped above the edge of the cliff, -searching for a holding. They were followed by the head and shoulders -of a man with a face intensely white, in which a pair of pale green -eyes smoldered. Lower down and out of sight a woman spoke. The voice was -Santa's. - - - - -CHAPTER THE FIFTH--THE GREEN EYES CAST A SPELL - - -I - - -HINDWOOD stood rooted to the ground. He had thrust Anna behind him. She -was tugging at his hand with the tenacity of terror. He scarcely dared -breathe while he watched the green-eyed man dragging himself inch by -inch to safety. To go to his assistance might cause his death. Any move -that startled him might fling him back over the precipice. In falling he -would sweep away the unseen woman who must be clinging to the face of -the cliff below him. - -To Hindwood it seemed that he was present at a fantastic rehearsal of -the Day of Resurrection. When the last trumpet blew, it would probably -be precisely in some such fashion that the sea would give up its dead. -It would happen about sunrise, when mankind was still abed. It would -commence very quietly, when clouds were hanging low and the first of the -barnyard cocks were crowing. Without warning, graves would open, and -all the tired people, who had been so long resting, would begin to stir. -Like the sound of falling rain, they would patter through the drowsing -country, searching for their ancient dwellings. At first they would walk -alone, then in groups, later in crowds. By the time the living looked -out of their windows there would be no standing room on earth. Across -seas and oceans the drowned would come swimming. They would wade through -waves and clamber up cliffs, just as this man was doing. - -The vision became so probable that Hindwood glanced behind him to make -sure that it was not happening. In a shimmering expanse of dew and -autumn coloring lay the sweet, green landscape of living men, the kindly -hedgerows, the sheltering valleys, the friendly villages. Everything was -gentle and unaltered. It was only at this barrier, which the green-eyed -stranger was struggling to surmount, that the tranquillity ended. At -its brink eternity commenced, a pulsating oblivion of mist and grayness -across which the rising sun peered curiously. - -The stranger was too occupied with his danger to be aware that he was -being observed. Clutching at tufts and digging with his fingers, he was -easing himself out of the abyss. Little by little he was gaining ground -till at last, pulling his knees clear of the edge, he sprawled exhausted -on the turf. But it was only for a moment. Twisting about, still lying -flat, he reached down to his companion. As she appeared, he retreated, -steadying her efforts and dragging her with him. Side by side they -collapsed, breathing heavily and staring in dazed defiance at the death -they had avoided. - -Hindwood made a step to approach them. He found himself tethered. Anna -was gazing up at him, silently imploring. Her hair seemed a mass of -solid gold, weighing her down. The blue veins in her temples stood out -beneath her fairness. Her throat was milk-white and stretched back. Her -lips were parted, revealing the coral of her mouth. It was as though she -had been caught from behind by an assailant and brutally jerked back. -With little endearing motions she caressed Hindwood's hand. He tried to -fathom her necessity; in the presence of her weakness there was nothing -that he would not have granted. - -The man with the green eyes had recovered. In the act of rising he had -caught sight of them. His jaw had dropped open. If it was possible, his -complexion had gone a shade whiter. His expression bore testimony to the -medley of his emotions, the chief of which was astonishment. He made -an oddly pathetic figure, with his scratched hands and torn clothing, -crouching in that hunted attitude. He had lost his hat in the ascent. -His brown hair was lank with perspiration. He was a lean man and -graceful as a greyhound. Even in his present ungainly posture there was -a hint of something swift and gallant in his bearing. One forgot that -he was a vagabond who had eluded formalities and completed an illegal -landing; he looked more like a champion unhorsed in a tourney. His brow -was wide and noble, but the top of his head was shaped like a deformity -and rose into a point like a dunce's cap. His eyes were well-spaced -and piercing; they penetrated with a sense of power. His mouth was -thin-lipped and sensitive--too sensitive for a man's. His face was -narrow and smooth as a girl's. He had a haggard appearance of perpetual -suffering, which the extremeness of his pallor served to enhance. He -was indefinably tragic. He might have sat equally well for a portrait of -Lucifer or of Harlequin overtaken by his folly. - -Very wearily he lifted himself from the ground and stumbled toward them. -As he did so, Santa uttered a nervous cry and turned--after which she -watched broodingly what happened. - -Paying no attention to Hindwood, the man made straight for Anna. Bending -over her humbly, he whispered unintelligible words. Her terror left her. -Making no sound, she raised to him eyes eloquent with compassion. - -“What did he say?” Hindwood questioned. - -She was prepared to reply, when the stranger stayed her with a gesture. -“I was apologizing in Russian for having returned.” - -Hindwood glanced at the ragged edge of the cliff and shrugged his -shoulders. “An apology's scarcely necessary. You're to be congratulated. -You seem to have recognized this lady. Who are you?” - -The stranger drew himself erect. A grim smile played about his mouth. -“Ivan Varensky, at your service.” - -[Illustration: 0187] - - -II - - -Hindwood stared at him with a frown. He was contrasting this Ivan -Varensky with the leader of men whose deeds of three years ago had so -deeply stirred him. One picture stood out ineffaceably. It was of a sea -of panic-stricken soldiers, patriotism forgotten, arms flung away, in -wild retreat, and of Ivan Varensky driving forward alone, as though -he, by his single courage, could turn back the enemy. And this was the -man--the white knight of Russia, the scape-goat, the magician of words! -Had he met him three years ago, he would have knelt to him. Now all he -could do was to frown. - -It was necessary to say something. He spoke gruffly. “You've chosen an -odd method of returning. We had news you were dead.” - -“I was,” the green eyes narrowed, “nearly. I'm always nearly dying. -Isn't that so, Anna? And then I come back. This last time, as you -observed, I had the discourtesy to forget. I was thinking of Santa. -Actually I struggled to survive. Believe me, that's unlike me.” - -The forbearance of his manner was rebuking. Making an effort to be -genial, Hindwood held out his hand. “It's a strange way to meet. I've -long been your admirer. It was a close call--as close as a man could -have.” - -Varensky winced as the powerful grip closed about his fingers. They were -long and pointed, more like a woman's than a man's. “A close call!” He -smiled. “You're American? It wasn't--not for me. I could tell you-- But -perhaps one day, when I've become past history, Anna will do that.” - -As he mentioned his wife, he gave her a look at once tender and -furtive--a look which acknowledged without rancor the truth of the -situation. She started forward, but his eyes held her. She stopped -half-way. - -“However you return,” she said chokingly, “and however often, you know -that I'm glad. It's the certainty that I shall lose you--that however -often you return I shall never have you--” - -She bowed her head. From the edge of the cliff, without a trace of -emotion, the other woman watched her. - -Tilting her face with his bruised fingers, Varensky regarded her -earnestly. “As if I wasn't aware of that!” And then, “Let's be going.” - -Side by side, but always separate, they moved across the downs. There -was no backward glance. Hindwood followed them with his eyes till they -sank into a hollow. The last he saw was the raw gold of her hair and the -conical top of his pointed head, growing more distant above the bracken. - - -III - - -And I, too, have to apologize. I failed to keep my appointment.” - -He swung round at the mockingly spoken words, to find that Santa had -stolen up behind him. Until now he had had no time to notice her. His -anger was so intense that it held him silent. After all that she had -done and had intended to do to him, she had the effrontery to jest! Did -she think that he was as much her dupe as the fool who had died for her -in the woods of Vincennes? - -But his anger was short-lived and left him sternly cold. She was -changed. Her fastidious elegance was a thing of the past. She was -commonly attired as any fisher-girl. Her cheap blouse was rent at the -neck; its sleeves were stained and in tatters. Her rough skirt had been -nearly trodden off. She was tom and disheveled. She had suffered even -more from her adventure than had Varensky. Her hat lay crushed at her -feet in the grass. With her wounded hands she “was doing her best to -twine the thick coils of her hair into place. She stood confessed for -what she was, a fugitive from justice. The wildness of the landscape -made a fitting setting. She looked startlingly untamed. She might have -passed for a peasant Ophelia, except that her gray eyes were calm and -her manner nonchalant. - -“There are a good many things, besides missing your appointment, for -which you have to apologize.” - -“I can explain--” - -He cut her short. “Between you and me no explanations are necessary.” - -She jerked back her head, flattening her hands against her sides like a -soldier standing at attention. “Why not?” - -He took his time to answer. “Because you're nothing to me.” - -Her face went white, then flamed scarlet, as though he had struck -her with his open palm. “Nothing to you!” She spoke slowly. “I, Santa -Gorlof, am nothing to you! You're the first man to whom I ever offered -my heart. I would lie down in the mud that you might walk over me. I'd -let you beat me like a dog if I might only follow you. I'd starve that -you might be fed, go thirsty that you might drink, break my body that -you might not suffer. I would die if it would give you pleasure.” Seeing -that her rhetoric was having no effect, she sank her voice. “When I -could have escaped, I waited for you. I risked my freedom for one last -sight of you.” She clutched at her breast, choking down a sob. “And you -tell me that I'm nothing to you!” - -He was determined to remain unmoved by her emotion. Regarding her -stonily, he asked: “What right had you to believe that you were anything -to me?” - -She laughed forlornly. “No right at all.” - -“If I had ever cared for you,” he continued, “in your present -predicament it would all be ended.” - -She raised her brows contemptuously. “Of course.” - -“You see, I've found out the sort of woman you are.” - -“What sort?” - -“Need I recall?” - -He turned away, searching hollows and clumps of bushes for bobbing heads -of watchers. Her captors might be closing in on her. Her indifference -to her danger was disconcerting. With eyes still fixed on the distant -landscape, he revealed his thoughts. - -“Your talk of love is paltry. It's tragic farce. You have a husband. -You're liable to be jailed at any moment.” - -He expected she would retort. When she maintained silence, he glanced -down at his feet, ashamed of what he felt himself compelled to tell her. - -“Love! If it were true, and if your affection were desired, you have no -love to offer. Nothing that is you is yours. Your hours are numbered. -Your body and your life are forfeit. The man who is your husband is -leading the hue-and-cry against you. If you think you can persuade me to -go to the scaffold for you, rid yourself of the thought. There'll be no -repetition of the woods of Vincennes. The victim in that case was your -lover; I'm not.” He met her eyes. “You never deceived me for a second. -From the moment we left the _Ryndam_, I knew who it was had pushed -Prince Rogovich overboard.” - -“If you knew,” she asked quietly, “why didn't you have me arrested?” - -“It was none of my business.” - -“But you were kind after we'd landed. At the hotel you arranged to -breakfast with me.” - -“I couldn't bring myself to believe you were guilty.” - -“And yet, after you had believed, you followed me to Seafold.” - -“The detective instinct.” He spoke testily. “Morbid curiosity.” - -“No.” She said it wistfully. Her face softened. “You followed me -because, even against your will, you still cared for me. You pitied me. -You were chivalrous. You refused to condemn me unheard. You hoped there -was some mistake. You followed me to make sure.” - -“And you've made me sure.” He rapped out the words. “Since you insist -on the truth, I came to Seafold hoping to find you innocent. If I had I -should have fought for you. Whereas--” - -“Whereas?” she prompted nervously. - -“I found you'd done to me what you've done to every other man who ever -befriended you--betrayed me and had me lured into an ambush where, for -all I know, you'd given orders for me to be shot.” - -“But you weren't.” - -“No thanks to you. Your husband was ahead of you, hidden in the bushes, -waiting for you. If we hadn't given the signal that warned you--” - -“But you gave it.” She spoke triumphantly. “I'd trapped you, and yet you -didn't want me to be caught. To have shown generosity at a moment when -you thought that I was threatening your life, you must still have been -fond of me.” - -“Thought!” He drew back from her, revolted by her insincerity. “You left -no room for thought. You were diabolically explicit. You knew that I -could prove your guilt. You meant to kill me in order that I might be -silenced.” - -Her eyes filled. She stretched out her arms beseechingly. They fell -hopelessly as he retreated from her. - -“Don't misjudge me,” she implored. “I'm a woman who's finished. A woman, -as you reminded me, whose hours are numbered--my body and my life are -forfeit. It's true what you said: nothing that I am belongs to me. If -you like to put it that way, I'm a woman who has nothing to offer. And -yet I love you--the first man with whom I was ever in love, now when -it's too late. You don't believe me; you're thinking of the many others. -Let it pass. I had to see you once more. I couldn't come to you; you -were surrounded by my enemies. To persuade you to come to me, I had to -trick you. Until it was safe to visit you, I had to have you held by -force. I compelled Anna, Madame Varensky to--” - -He made an impatient gesture. “Enough! I'm wondering to how many men -you've made that speech before. I've heard all about your appeals to -chivalry. If you were a man---- Unfortunately you're not, so I have a -sentimental compunction about abandoning you. What are your plans? When -I saw the ship I hoped you had escaped.” - -“I had.” - -“And you came back! Why?” - -“Varensky was landing from the boat that had been sent to take me off.” - She was laying claim to some obscure nobility, making a final bid for -his admiration. - -“The mist's clearing,” he said brusquely. “In another half-hour you'll -be visible for miles. If you're seen here, you'll be taken.” - -“I won't.” - -“You think not?” - -She smiled languidly. It was her arch, mysterious way of smiling that -had first attracted him. “Why don't you go?” she whispered in her -hoarse, parched voice. “You loathe and despise me. You grudge me every -moment we're together. I've done what was right; I'm willing to pay the -penalty. I've earned a rest. I'm tired--you can't guess how tired.” - -Now that she wanted him to go, he gazed at her with a new interest. -If the trackers were hot upon his trail, what would be his sensations? -Would he be able to be courteous and to talk calmly? Whatever might be -her crimes, she had courage. What if it were true that by some tortuous -process of reasoning she did actually believe she had done right? And -what if it were true that she had intended him no harm, but had only -attempted to win him by violence? The uneasy doubt took shape in his -mind that he might have misjudged her. It would be a splendid memory -to have, if she were wrongly executed--this gleaming morning, the larks -singing, the blue-patched sky, the valiant sun, the rosy-tinted dew, and -himself fleeing from the forlornness of a woman! Every man's hand was -against her. She believed she had done right. - -He regarded her less coldly. She was perfect as on the day when all -Europe had gone wild over her. And this masterpiece of loveliness, which -had been known as Santa Gorlof, was doomed to be destroyed! - -“Go.” She stamped her foot hysterically. “You torture me.” - -He faced her obstinately. “What are you proposing? You've some plan in -mind. Madame Varen-sky called this 'the road out.' Is it possible for -you to take it?” - -“I know a shorter route.” - -“You're certain?” - -“Please leave me. You must leave me. I'm a woman who has nothing to -offer. You're a man who has everything to lose.” - -He squared his lips. “I don't like the sound of this shorter route. I -want to know more about it.” - -As he made a step toward her, she dodged and broke from him, dashing -toward the cliff. On the very edge he caught her. She struggled -dangerously, but he stumbled back with her crushed against him. - -“You little fool!” - -She lay quiet, her face pressed against his cheek. Then she fell to -sobbing. - -“What difference would it make? Why wouldn't you let me do it?” - - -IV - - -Why wouldn't he? It was the question he himself was asking. He had done -nothing humane in preventing her. He had merely spared his own feelings. -If she had succeeded, he would have found himself in an ugly situation. -He would have been suspected of a crime similar to hers. There would -have been no evidence to hang him, but he could never have established -his innocence. He looked down at the woman shuddering in his arms, for -all the world as though he were her lover. He had been within an ace of -inheriting her isolation. - -“I didn't let you do it--” He hesitated. Then he took the plunge. -“Because I intend to save you.” - -She stirred. She glanced up at him. As her eyes met his, their -expression of wonder gave way to one of gratitude. She strove to reach -his lips, but he restrained her. - -“Promise me you'll live.” - -“If you'll help me.” - -How much she implied oy “help me,” he did not stop to question. - -“We've no time to lose.” He spoke hurriedly. “Where's the safest place -of hiding?” - -“My old one. A hut----” - -“I know,” he interrupted. “I'll go ahead to make sure the way is clear; -you follow at a distance. Keep me in sight. If I look back, take cover.” - -Without more ado, he turned away, retracing his steps to the camp. - -He attempted to walk jauntily, like a nature-lover who had risen early -to enjoy the first freshness of the morning. Here and there he stooped -to pluck a blackberry. He pulled a sprig of heather for his lapel. -He flattered himself that, if he were being watched, his conduct was -artistically normal. - -For all his display of carelessness, he advanced warily. There was -nothing in the billowy expanse of greenness that escaped him. Somewhere -within a radius of four miles the Major was waiting to make his pounce. -He might be crouched in the next patch of bracken. He might be lying -behind the nearest mound. The dapper, gallant-appearing old gentleman, -who bore such a striking resemblance to Lord Roberts, assumed the terror -of nemesis in his imagination. He seemed everywhere and nowhere. He -would pop up, suave and neatly bespatted, at the moment when he was -least expected. - -He gazed straight before him, not daring to look back, but he never lost -consciousness of the fateful woman following him stealthily as a shadow. -And always there was the memory of the other woman with the gentle eyes -and shining hair. - -He reached the camp. It looked lonely as a graveyard. Rows of hutments, -bleached to a bluish whiteness, gleamed in the morning sunshine. The -downs curled above it like an emerald wave on the point of breaking. - -Passing along the bare avenue of silent dwellings he pushed open the -door of Santa's place of refuge. Tiptoeing across the dusty floor, he -knelt by the window, peering out. - -Seconds ticked into minutes. Ten minutes elapsed, twenty, half an hour. -There was no sign of life. He strove to calm his fears. If she had been -caught, it simplified matters. But such arguments failed to pacify him. -He pictured her as he had seen her on the _Ryndam_--a splendid animal, -proud, fastidious, mildly contemptuous; and then as he had seen her that -morning, broken, desperate, defiant. - -Out there in the happy sunshine they might be carrying her away. They -would drag her through the public streets as a criminal. They would lock -her in a cell. They would hale her to a court to be gaped at. They would -paw over her private life. They would pry into the intimacies of her -love-affairs. Nothing that was hers would be sacred. Then, when -the sport grew tedious, an old man, turned moralist by reason of -decrepitude, would don a black cap and intrust her to the mercy of -Almighty God. - -He staged her arrest as though he had seen it happen. He had strolled -straight through her pursuers' ambush. They had let him pass. Directly -she had appeared, they had risen out of the brush. Twisting her arms -behind her, they had snapped handcuffs on her slender wrists. She had -struggled, sinking to the ground, faint with terror. They had jerked her -to her feet, half carrying her, pushing her forward. - -He raged impotently. What brutes men were! Nothing that she had done -to his sex was bad enough. He thrust the vision from him. Each time it -returned. - -The door creaked. He leaped as if he had been shot. She pressed a finger -to her lips. Coming close, so that he could feel the rise and fall of -her bosom, “He's here,” she whispered. - - -V - - -Who?” - -She was puzzled by his stupidity. Then, “You know,” she murmured. “He -saw me in the distance and started to run toward me. I dropped to my -knees and circled, approaching the hut from the back.” - -“But he couldn't have recognized you.” - -“He's on my track.” - -“Alone?” - -“I saw no one else.” - -Hindwood's forehead wrinkled as he reckoned the cost. “If he comes -alone, we can deal with him.” - -“You mean--?” She did not finish her sentence. - -He smiled sternly, thinking how far he had drifted from his moorings. -“Scarcely. What made you ask?” - -“He's my husband.” Her answer was enigmatic. - -They held their breath. She was clinging to him. There had been no -sound, nothing that could have warned them. Pushing her from him, he -stole toward the window. Not fifty yards away, rigid like a hound -at fault, stood the Major. Slowly, scarcely turning his head, he was -running his eye along the double line of hutments. There was nothing in -his expression that would tell what he had found. As though he sensed -that he was watched, he started forward at a rambling pace. He tried -no doors. He peered through no panes. His bearing was that of a mildly -interested tourist who had stumbled on the camp by accident. He passed -out of sight inoffensively, idly slashing at the grass. - -It was some time before either of them dared to whisper. Then Hindwood -straightened himself and drew back. - -“He's gone.” - -“To return,” she said tragically. - -“If he returns alone, what of it?” - -“He may catch me.” - -“That doesn't follow. We may catch him instead.” - -Her eyes grew long and narrow like a cat's. “What would we do with him?” - she asked softly. - -He regarded her warily. “He told me he loved you,” he said irrelevantly. - -“Love wouldn't stand in his way--nothing personal. For what he holds to -be right, he'd mutilate himself. He'd kill the thing he loved best.” She -sank her voice. “We all would.” - -“All--” He paused and began again. “With idealists like the Major, -yourself and Varensky, human relations don't count. That was what you -were trying to tell me, wasn't it? To achieve individual ideals, you'd -sacrifice your own and everybody's happiness.” - -Her expression became wooden as an idol's. - -“You'd sacrifice mine, for instance?” - -When she refused to answer, he made his inquiry more intrusive. - -“My life, perhaps? No obligation of loyalty or gratitude would hinder -you? Be honest.” - -He recognized the struggle which his words had occasioned. Her sleepy -look had vanished. She believed he was preparing to desert her. She -was mustering the courage to invent a falsehood. Already her hands were -lying. They were wandering over him, patting and caressing. He clasped -them in his own, holding her at arm's length. Her eyes met his; they -grew steady and absorbed him. - -“Even though you were all I had, if your life caused suffering to -children, I would kill you.” - -He laughed at her solemnity over having told the truth. - -“With you it's children; with the Major it's patriotism; with Varensky -it's freedom. With me it's nothing. I follow no will-o'-the-wisp--which -is lucky for you. You're terribly tired; get some rest while you can. -I'll watch. I'm no idealist; you can trust me.” - - -VI - - -She had wrapped herself in her sable cloak and curled herself on the -floor in the corner remotest from the window. When he judged she was -sleeping, he stole to her side and stood gazing down. Her rags were -hidden. Except for the weary disorder of her hair, she was almost the -fashionable beauty of his Atlantic voyage. - -He looked closer. Fatigue had uncovered something hidden in her -countenance, traces of lost girlhood. Her body seemed smaller, her -features less decided. The mask of intrigue had fallen. He caught a -glimpse of the slim, pathetic child whom the Major had discovered, -swaying like lilac-bloom in the perfumed dusk of the Hindoo temple. - -Her feet peeped out from beneath the costly fur. Such doll's feet--so -little to have come so long a journey! Her ankles were cut by the climb -up the cliff. Her shoes were broken. As though the curtain had gone up -in the theater of his brain, her feet began to act their story. He -saw them tiny and brown, pattering about the shaded bungalow where the -English tea-planter had lived with her Burmese mother. He saw them -lost and wandering along the roads of India. He saw them in the temple, -flashing like a swallow's flight across mosaic pavements. He -followed all their progress, as they carried her through triumphs and -bereavements to this moment. - -She sighed and moved languidly. The robe fell back, revealing her hands. -They were grazed and wounded. - -Pouring water on his handkerchief from the pitcher, he bathed them -gently. Just as he had finished, she opened her eyes. - -“You won't leave me?” - -“You'll find me sitting here,” he assured her, “just like this when you -waken.” - -Smiling faintly, she drowsed off obediently as a child. - -All day she lay huddled in the corner, oblivious and spent with -exhaustion. This must be the first long sleep she had snatched for -several days and nights. Crouched beside the window, he guarded her. -The Major might return. Varensky might send help. He himself could do -nothing till after nightfall. The only food was the broken loaf of bread -on the shelf beside the pitcher. He did not dare to touch it; when she -woke, she would be hungry. The downs poured in a steady blaze of -light. A fly drummed against the panes. On distant hillsides sheep were -grazing; he envied them their freedom. - -He could go if he liked. As the monotony dragged on, the temptation -strengthened. He was under no obligation to make himself an outlaw. If -he were to slip away, he would not rouse her. Within the hour he could -be speeding up to London. Once there he would be of importance--the one -man, at least in some statesmen's estimate, who could solve the European -situation. For this woman he was sacrificing the happiness of millions. -The fleshpots of Egypt could be his for the claiming. If he stayed and -she were arrested, he would be held as her accomplice. Self-interest and -altruism urged him to escape. He owed nothing to her. Women had always -been for him an enemy country, forbidden and enticing. They had been -what darkest Africa was to the explorer, a forest-world of treacherous -loveliness. In imagination he had always been approaching their borders, -fascinated by the gleam of uplifted faces. But like Varensky, whose life -was a constant challenging of terror, in this one matter he had been -cowardly. Since the first false woman of his early manhood--? - -Why was it, this sudden clamor to possess the thing which all his years -he had avoided? Was it because he felt the rising tide of loneliness -and knew that the years were gaining on him? All this autumn day, as the -silver clearness of morning faded into the deep gold of afternoon, he -sat motionless, considering. Up to now he had maintained his pride, -flattering himself that it was he who was doing the refusing. He had -told himself arrogantly that he would succeed first--succeed immensely; -after that he could have any woman for the asking. But could he? He was -losing his faculty for sharing. Merely to marry a woman was not to win -her. The illusion of ecstasy! - -He glanced over to the corner where she lay sleeping. She was the symbol -of the feminine half of the world whom he had disregarded. It was she -who had roused him, with her parched voice and instinctive passion. - -He studied her--her golden face, her cruel lips, her thin, sweet -profile. He noticed the delicate firmness of her arms, the fineness of -her throat, the tenderness of her molding. At every point she made him -aware of his incompleteness. - -Across the downs, like a fisherman drawing in his nets, the sun was -setting. The hut was vague with dusk. Like the crescent of a young moon, -Santa had wakened and was rising. - - -VII - - -You promised to save me.” - -“I will if I can.” - -She knotted her hands in mental anguish. - -“You must. Any moment he may return. Have you thought of nothing?” - -Leaning across his shoulder she lifted the ragged curtain, peering out -at the fading landscape; as she gazed, her face stiffened and her eyes -became fixed in a leaden stare. Not more than thirty yards distant, -with his back toward them, the Major was standing. He had followed their -trail still closer. - -“We can't escape,” she panted. “He'll be there all night, to-morrow, -forever.” - -“We can. Stop here and trust me.” - -Rising stealthily, leaving the door ajar behind him, he slipped out -of the hut. In the twilight he halted, breathing in the sweet evening -fragrance. Without further secrecy, he strode toward the Major. - -“Good evening. I've been expecting you.” - -At the first word the Major spun round, alertly on the defensive. - -“I have your prisoner,” he continued. “I found I had no taste for being -added to her list of victims. I'll be glad if you'll take her off my -hands. She's in there.” He jerked his thumb across his shoulder. - -The Major eyed him fiercely. “How d'you mean, you were expecting me?” - -Hindwood laughed. “I caught sight of you last night in Varensky's garden -and this morning on the downs. I didn't let you know, because there were -things I was anxious to investigate.” - -“For instance?” - -“The purpose of her game.” - -“And you've satisfied yourself?” - -“At the risk of my life--yes. When you warned me against being romantic, -I thought you were merely jealous. Fortunately or unfortunately, -whichever way you like to put it, I know now that everything you told me -was correct.” - -“Humph!” - -The Major twirled his mustaches thoughtfully. - -In the last of the daylight he looked like a lean, white cat. - -His coolness began to wear on Hindwood's nerves. “I suppose your men are -hidden. Let's make an end.” - -“I have no men.” The Major spoke slowly. “You forget that this woman is -my wife. I wished to spare her as much as possible by making the arrest -myself!” His eyes narrowed shrewdly. “How did you manage to secure her?” - -“Luck. She had an accident. It's too long a story. She can't get away. -I'm through; I've done my share.” - -As he turned to go, the older man stretched out a delaying hand. His -iron discipline wavered. “It's not a cheerful task. If you'll be so good -as to stay--” - -“If you feel like that--” - -“I daren't allow myself to feel. It's something I owe my country.” - -As though afraid that he would weaken, the Major set out at a run across -the turf. Outside the hut he waited. As Hindwood caught up with him, he -whispered: - -“Two men against one woman! For an old soldier it isn't gallant.” - -He was on the point of entering, when he felt himself flung violently -forward. Hindwood's arm was crooked about his throat, shutting off his -breath. Bursting into the hut, he was hurled to the floor and found -himself struggling in the darkness. He was being pressed down and down. -A voice spoke, the accents of which a minute ago had been friendly. - -“Close the door. Get something to bind him. Anything that will hold. -Tear strips off your dress.” - - -VIII - - -It was over. The Major had been trussed and gagged. He had been -handcuffed with his own manacles. His revolver had been removed and -his pockets searched. He leaned propped against the wall like a jointed -doll, his body making an exact right angle with his legs. The angry -vigilance of his eyes was his only sign of life. There was no means -of making a light, even if it had been safe to employ it. Now that the -fight was ended, they sat staring into the gloom, anonymous as three -shadows. - -It was Hindwood who broke the silence. “I've been guilty of an outrage, -Major; I guess that's what you'd like to tell me. But you gave me no -choice. Where I come from, women and children are held sacred. It was up -to some man to protect her.” - -He paused instinctively, as though he expected a reply. He looked to -Santa where she crouched, motionless and scarcely discernible, in her -corner. What were they thinking, this husband and wife, so brutally -reunited? His sense of discomfort urged him to continue. - -“Don't run off with the idea that I approve of what she's done. And I'm -not in love with her. If she were a man, I don't suppose I'd raise a -finger to save her. But she's a woman: inconsistently, that makes all -the difference. I couldn't stand for seeing her dragged away to the kind -of shame--” - -Again he paused. The lack of response was maddening. Scrambling to his -feet, he bent over the Major. - -“To be frank, now that I've got you, I don't know what to do with you. -If you'll promise to keep quiet, I'll remove the gag.” - -“No.” Santa had not stirred. In the darkness she was little more than -a voice. “Let me speak while he's forced to listen. Put him where I can -see him.” - -Taking his prisoner by the shoulders, Hindwood dragged him to the -window. With a jerk he tore the ragged curtain from its nails. The downs -were a sea of purple dusk. The moon hung like a lantern in an unruffled -sky. Against the square of glass, the Major's face showed hawk-like. - -“You've changed.” She spoke softly. “Do you remember when last we -parted? On the docks at Calcutta. It hurt. Since then we've both gone -down the ladder. For both of us it was the end of goodness. I must have -known it. I waved till long after you were out of sight; then I wept -till my heart was shriveled up. How long I've waited to tell you what -you've made me suffer! You made me feel that I'd never been your wife, -only a half-caste plaything. But you'd put a white soul into my body. -It was a greater wickedness than anything I have done. Now that I'm -what you've made me, father of my dead child, you seek me out to be my -judge.” - -Her hoarse voice died away. Like the protest of an uneasy conscience, -the Major's handcuffs clinked together. - -“You think that you're just,” she began again. “You come of a race which -admires justice. Ah, but justice is not kindness! You knew what I was -when you brought me from the temple--a wanton slave-girl. What had I -learned of righteousness? It wasn't for my virtue that you bought me. It -was for my pomegranate lips, my golden body, my little, caressing hands. -Afterward, as an incentive to desire, it pleased you to bring the soul -into my eyes. You made me long to be perfect. You seemed so strong and -wise; I wanted to be like you. Without you I was afraid. You were my -God. I felt brave when I touched you.” - -Her voice sank. “After the little one came, I was no longer frightened. -He was so nearly white. He was yours and mine. My blood seemed cleansed. -I saw the world through the innocence of his eyes. The evil of the East -ceased to call to me. But when he was killed and you put me from you---- -Murderer of a woman's faith,” she addressed the silent face, “the soul -in me was dying.” - -She rocked in the shadows. “My crimes are yours, and you came to condemn -me. You robbed me of everything but my body. My heart was famished; to -feed it, I sold my beauty at a price. At first, for men's money; then, -for their honor; at last, for their lives.” She had risen. “You wonder -why for their lives? They were men like you, outwardly just, who -destroyed belief in goodness. Because of men like you women's hearts are -broken and children go naked.” - -Hindwood leaped to his feet, blocking her path. She leaned past him, -staring down into the bandaged face. - -“Oh, husband without pity, god whom I worshipped, I burn in hell because -of your justice.” - -Slipping to her knees, she came into the square of light. “Am I not -beautiful? Is there another like me? Would it not have been happier to -have been kind? See what you have spoiled.” - - -IX - - -There was the rustling of footsteps in the grass outside. Letting in a -flood of moonlight, the door was pushed gently open. - -“May we enter?” - -Without waiting for a reply, a man padded noiselessly across the -threshold. By his peaked head and the litheness of his body, Hindwood -recognized him as Varensky. Behind him, with the mildness of attendant -angels, Anna and the Little Grandmother followed. Just inside the room -he halted. - -“What's this?” - -The bound face in the square of window had riveted his attention. - -“Her husband.” - -“But why--?” - -Hindwood spoke again. “He had come to take her to be hanged.” - -The pale face smiled contemptuously. “Hanging's only a way of dying. Was -that any reason for making him suffer?” - -Without further argument, taking command of the situation, he stepped -quickly to the Major's side. Stooping, he cut the bonds and removed the -gag. - -“You're free--free to go where you like and to get us all into trouble. -We shall be here for at least an hour, so you'll have time. I landed -without permission in your England this morning. That's a cause for -police interference. My name's Ivan Varensky.” - -The Major rose painfully, blinking at the lean, green-eyed stranger -as though he had discovered in him a jester. “There are still the -handcuffs,” he muttered. - -When the handcuffs had been knocked off, Varen-sky repeated, “You're -free to go.” - -The Major shook himself and resumed his strutting air, like a brave old -rooster who had all but had his neck wrung. “If it makes no difference, -I'll stay.” - -With his left eye shut and his head on one side, Varensky regarded him -comically. “No difference! It may. You're a secret service agent; I'm -a revolutionary. You uphold laws; I defy them. You're the servant of -force; I hate every form of compulsion. What difference it makes depends -on yourself--whether you propose to stay as a spy or as a man of honor.” - -“As a sportsman who abides by the rules of the game.” - -Varensky shrugged his narrow shoulders. “As a sportsman who hunts -women?” He turned tenderly to Santa. “You're famished. We'll cover up -the window and make a light.” - -When candles which they had brought had been kindled and the meal -spread, Santa and Hindwood sat down on the floor, facing each other. -While they ate there was dead silence. Hindwood kept catching glimpses -of her eyes. What was to be the end of her? Her expression was stunned. -They both knew what this silence betokened: when the meal was over, her -fate was to be decided. He was aware of each separate personality, as -though each were making an effort to explain itself. What was to be -hoped for from the verdict of such a jury? Every one in the hut, except -Anna and himself, was a fanatic. He did not try to see their faces; all -he saw was their hands as they ministered to him. The hands of Varensky, -half clown's, half martyr's. The wrinkled hands of the old noblewoman, -worn with service, who had lived with outcasts and spent her years in -exile. The hands of Anna, guilty with yearning. - -Varensky spoke without looking up. It was as though he were carrying on -a conversation already started. “We can't restore life, so what right -have we to destroy it? To be merciful--that's the only way.” - -His green eyes sought the Major's. “We could have killed you -to-night--but we didn't. Have you wondered why? By letting you go, we've -put ourselves in your power. To-morrow you can drag us all to jail. -You're a hard man. You exact an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth. -You came here to-night to exact a life. If we had judged you by your own -standards, we should have been justified in giving you no quarter. If -we had, what good would it have done? You'd only have been dead. And if -you'd managed to capture Santa, what good would that have done? To have -had her executed wouldn't have made her a better woman.” - -He reached out and took her unwilling hand, bending back the fingers one -by one. “They're beautiful. See how cleverly they work. There's not a -scientist living can reproduce their mechanism. No one knows how they -grew to be like that.” - -His tone became tender. “Santa's been bad. She's been treacherous and -cruel: a faithless wife and a menace. Merely to punish her wouldn't undo -her evil. Only she can do that.” - -For the first time the Major spoke. “At what are you driving?” - -Varensky made no attempt to answer him. He seemed not to have heard. He -sat cross-legged on the floor, folding and unfolding Santa's fingers, -while his grotesque shadow squatted on the wall behind him. He looked -like a kindly, embarrassed boy, trying to say something to the sulky -girl so that it should not sound too wounding. - -“I wonder whether Santa's husband ever saw a woman when she was dead. -There's no light in her eyes. She can't say that she's sorry. Last -week I saw hundreds in the ditches about Kiev. They weren't lovely. We -mustn't let our Santa become like that.” - -He turned to the Major with a slow smile. “Must we? You wouldn't like to -think of the woman you had loved--” - -The Major took a step into the room and stood biting his lips, glooming -down at Varensky. - -“You and I, sir, view our duty from hostile standpoints. I care for this -woman infinitely more than you can ever care. But I care still more for -my country. She's betrayed it a score of times. Shall I, because I am -her husband, stand by and allow her to betray it? Had I accomplished the -purpose that brought me here to-night, my heart would have been broken. -To have put handcuffs on her wrists and to have sworn away her life, do -you think it would have cost me nothing? The very judge who sentenced -her would have shunned me.” - -The Little Grandmother looked up. She spoke gruffly. “And what would -have been the use of your suffering? Society would have been revenged. -It would have washed its hands, like Pontius Pilate. It would have -smiled smugly, believing she was wrong and it was right. It would have -gone on its way, manufacturing more criminals like her. The old evils -that have made her what she is would have continued, while she--” She -snapped her fingers furiously. “Like the women in the ditches about -Kiev.” - -When the room had grown silent, Varensky covered the Major with his -mocking stare. - -“You must excuse our Little Grandmother. She feels these things -intensely. More than half her years have been spent in prison.” - -The Major pulled himself together. “She needs no excusing. What is it -that you want of me?” - - -X - - -Santa's life. It's of no use to you.” He smiled in the midst of his -earnestness. “I'm a boy begging for a broken watch. You were going to -throw it away. I have dreams that I could repair it.” - -The Major twitched irritably. “And you talk like a boy. How can I give -you what doesn't belong to me? At every port in Europe the police are -watching. For me to forgive her wouldn't help. It isn't against me that -she's offended; it's against the laws of civilization.” - -“I know.” Varensky nodded soothingly. “You're only one of the many -agents of social vengeance. What I ought to have asked you was to give -me the part of her life that does belong to you. She's in your clutches. -Let her escape. Keep silent and drop your pursuit.” - -“And if I do?” - -Varensky tucked his legs closer under him and bent forward. “Perhaps I -could turn her into a saint.” A note of passionate pleading crept into -his voice. “She loves children. It was how her wickedness started. She -was blind and mistaken, and all her crimes were committed for children. -A woman who loves children must be good. She's done abominable things. -She could become magnificent if she would do good with an equal -violence.” - -The Major glanced at the subject of these prophecies, sitting in their -midst, rebelliously silent. He said wearily: “Mere words! You offer me -no proof!” - -The white face seemed to grow till it filled the room. The green eyes -glowed like emeralds. They were uncanny and hypnotic. Language came in a -torrent. “It isn't her body--it's her soul. If she were to die now, what -would happen to her? I tried to save the soul of a nation. Let me do -for Santa what I couldn't do for Russia--prove that mercy restores where -punishment destroys. There's been too much killing. The world grows -worse instead of better. It's been going on for ages, this hanging and -guillotining and bludgeoning. It's reformed nothing. It's the might is -right of the jungle, the justice of apes and cavemen. Revenge, whether -it's carried out by tooth and claw or by law-courts and armies, never -heals anything; it always leaves a bruise. The face of Europe is bruised -beyond recovery by our last display of justice. Its fields are rotten -with corpses. Shall we add one more to the many--a woman's?” - -He paused, trembling like a leaf. When the Major only frowned, he sank -back exhausted. - -“If you'd seen what I've seen--” His head sagged stupidly. “If you'd -seen what I've seen--miles of men, all slaughtered; women dead of -starvation, children hunting in packs like wolves. And all because -there's no mercy. If you'd seen, you couldn't kill anything.” - -The candles ceased to gutter. Shadows huddled motionless. The very -silence seemed accused. - -Hindwood rose. He could endure the tension no longer. “I know nothing -about her soul and not much about her guilt. All I know is that she's -a woman at the end of her tether who's been handed one of the rawest of -raw deals. That the world's been hard on her won't excuse her. We -can't alter the world over night. If she's caught, as she may be at any -moment, it'll be all up with her. I don't care what she's done or how -much I lose by it, I'm not going to stand by and see her taken.” - -The Major swung round. “Nor am I. But how to avoid it?” - -Hindwood showed his suspicion of this sudden conversion. “Tell me,” - he answered cautiously, “have you handed in any reports, I mean -officially--about my knowledge of Santa?” - -“Beyond the fact that you crossed on the same boat with her, you've not -been mentioned.” - -“And there's no one in your service, besides yourself, who has the least -idea of her whereabouts?” - -“No one.” - -“Then it can be managed.” - -He was dimly conscious of the pale expectancy of the faces lifted up to -him. He felt that he was on the edge of a whirlpool into which he was -being slowly dragged. Even at this last moment he made an effort to -resist it. Then it seemed to him that in the heart of its eddies he saw -a woman. She grew distinct; her face was Anna's. - -“Let me explain,” he said. “I'm neither humanitarian nor idealist. I -have no fantastic hopes of turning sinners into saints. I'm head of a -group of American financiers, and I'm in Europe to employ its starving -peoples. Don't misunderstand me. The result of my mission may be -philanthropic, but its purpose is to make a profit. Since the war -Europe's become a bargain-counter where everything's exposed for -sale--everything except food. I can supply food. With food I can -purchase, for a fraction of their value, railroads, factories, labor. I -tell you this so that you may not doubt me when I say that I have it in -my power to protect her. Once out of England, no escaping criminal could -find a safer place of refuge than in my company. I have influence with -all governments; with food I can stop revolution. None of them dares -suspect me. I propose that I should take Santa with me. I travel -on diplomatic passports; with me she'll have no trouble in crossing -frontiers.” - -The silence that greeted his offer lengthened. At a loss to account for -it, he glanced from face to face. - -“Have I offended?” - -It was Santa who replied. Leaping up in their midst, tattered and -disheveled, she threatened them like dogs whom she would beat aside. - -“Beasts!” A sob caught her breath. “Is it impossible even for you, who -call yourselves my friends, to believe any good of me? I swear before -heaven he has no love for me.” - - -XI - - -Back in London he lost no time in completing arrangements for -departure. Every boat that left for France without him lessened Santa's -chance of safety. And yet, though he worked frantically, canceling -appointments and clearing up correspondence, he couldn't bring home to -himself the reality of the situation. The hut on the downs and all that -had happened there seemed something that he had read or imagined. Only -the face of Anna stood out in memory, clear-cut and actual. It seemed -impossible to believe that he, Philip Hindwood, was in league with -revolutionaries. That he was in league was proved to him when he set -about procuring the passport and visés necessary for Santa to accompany -him. By the time he obtained them, he had abused confidence and perjured -himself beyond hope of pardon. They were made out in the name of “Edith -Jones, spinster; American-born subject; aged thirty years; confidential -secretary to Philip Hindwood, whom she is accompanying.” All her permits -were marked _Special_ and _Diplomatic_. It wasn't until the bustle was -over and he was seated in the train for Dover, that the true proportions -of his entanglement dawned on him. - -At Dover she was to meet him. That had been the understanding. From -then on, day in, day out, he would never be without her. No matter what -strange country he traversed, she would sit beside him, reminding him of -his complicity in her crimes. He would have to talk with her, eat -with her, pretend to consult with her, just as if she were what he had -claimed her to be--his confidential secretary. Would she have the sense -to act discreetly? Would she expect him to make love to her? He glowered -out of the window at the fleeting landscape. Any folly was possible to a -woman with her record. - -What made him most furious was the easy way in which he had allowed her -to twist him round her fingers. It was the woods of Vincennes all over -again. He was going into disordered countries, where governments were -toppling and anarchy was rife. When she felt herself beyond the reach of -danger, what was to prevent her from getting rid of him? Russia, if he -got so far, was the kind of nightmare in which anything might happen. In -Russia murder was one of the fine arts. He remembered Anna's suspicion -that Santa was a Bolshevist agent. It added nothing to his comfort. - -He had given way to idealism. It was the madness of a moment. It was -listening to Varensky that had worked the mischief. Varensky had said -something about idealism. What was it? That idealism was the vanishing -point--the last outpost between Man and Eternity. His words came back. - -“When you gaze up a railroad track, there's always a point in the -infinite distance where, just before they vanish, the parallel rails -seem to join. If a train were ever to reach that point, it would mean -death. Life's like that--a track along which we travel on the parallel -rails of possibility and desire. The lure of the idealist is to overtake -the illusion, where possibility and desire seem to merge, and the safety -of the journey ends.” - -For him the safety of the journey had ended the moment it had started. -If Varensky had meant anything by the vanishing point, he had meant that -death is the unconscious goal of all idealists. Hind-wood shrugged his -shoulders. It seemed highly probable when you took Santa with you on -your travels. - -The smell of the sea was in the air. They were slowing down, grinding -their way to the docks through the town of Dover. - -He didn't want to see her. He would make no effort to find her. She -might have been prevented from joining him--perhaps arrested. - -After the train had halted, he took his time. No one whom he recognized -was on the platform. Directing a porter to attend to his baggage, he -went quickly to the embarkation office to get his permit for going -aboard. As he was entering, he felt his arm touched timidly, and turned. - -“I'm here.” - -“I see you are.” - -“Didn't you expect me?” - -He made an effort to act courteously. “Of course. There are formalities -to be gone through. You'd better stick close to me. Don't attract -attention. Let me do the talking.” - -They fell into line behind a queue of passengers, winding slowly toward -a table where officials were receiving and inspecting passports. He -stood well in front of her, doing his best to hide her. When his turn -came and the official held out his hand, he presented her passport with -his own perfunctorily. - -“Mine and my secretary's.” - -The official was on the point of returning them, when a stockily-built -man leaned across his shoulder and whispered something. Both of them -looked up, staring hard at Santa. - -“Which is Miss Jones?” the official asked. - -“This lady at my side.” - -“So you're Miss Jones, an American citizen?” - -Before she could reply, Hindwood had interposed. “I've already told you -she's Miss Jones. If you'll look, you'll see that her passport's marked -_Diplomatic_ as well as mine.” - -The two men consulted together in lowered tones. Then the passport was -O.K.'d and restored. - -Picking it up, together with the embarkation permits, Hindwood strolled -leisurely towards the gangplank. Directly they were on board he hurried -Santa to her cabin and shut the door. - -“You'll stay here till we sight France. I'm giving no one else the -opportunity for suspecting a likeness.” - - - - -CHAPTER THE SIXTH--THE ESCAPE - - -I - - -THE steamer had no sooner reached Calais than a new cause for alarm -presented itself. During the channel crossing Hindwood had been keyed up -to the last point of tension. Every moment he had expected to be tapped -on the shoulder and informed that his secretary's identity had been -discovered. He had spent most of his time surreptitiously mounting guard -in the neighborhood of Santa's cabin. If the same man chanced to pass -him twice, he had at once jumped to the conclusion that he was being -shadowed. - -The hesitancy at Dover over O.K.'ing Santa's passport had robbed him -of whatever sense of security he had possessed. It had compelled him -to acknowledge the ruin that faced him, should he be exposed while -engineering the flight of so notorious a criminal. As the Major had -warned him, she was being sought by the police of every country. - -If the worst should happen, he would find no apologists. It would be -useless for him to plead a chivalrous motive. She had been the lodestar -of masculine passions too often. Though he managed to escape a prison -sentence, he would emerge from the catastrophe broken in character--a -paltry creature, half knave, half fool, who had gambled away his -integrity and made himself a laughing stock. Already in imagination he -was reading the scare headlines which would advertise his shame to the -world. He would be regarded as a malefactor--hustled behind bars and -herded for trial with blackmailers and pickpockets. - -Dogged by these persistent dreads, when the ship was inside Calais -harbor he rapped on her door and having heard her bid him enter, slipped -across the threshold, announcing tersely: - -“We're there.” - -Since she joined him, he had held no conversation with her. She made -no attempt to break through his silence. Rising obediently, while she -adjusted her hat, she watched him in the mirror with the eyes of a -reproachful dog. Without sign or sound, as he turned away impatiently, -she followed. No sooner did they appear on deck than the new cause for -alarm started. - -A handsome and distinguished-looking foreigner began taking immediate -notice of her. He was so quick to pick her out in the throng that it -seemed he must have been watching for her. Whoever and whatever he was, -he was manifestly a man of breeding--the kind of man who might have -been her companion in the old, wild days of her triumphant folly. He was -about thirty-five, tall, dark, finely-built, and of military bearing. -He had a closely-trimmed mustache, bold, black eyes, and a Latin type -of countenance. That was all that Hindwood permitted himself to observe; -changing his position promptly, he shut Santa out from the stranger's -line of vision. But the man was not to be balked. With an air of -complete unconcern, he fell into line immediately behind them, treading -closely on their heels as they passed up the gangplank. On the way -to the Customs he managed to get ahead, so that he could glance back -several times at Santa. - -After their baggage had been inspected it was necessary for them to file -through a stuffy room where passports were examined. It was here that -Hindwood was fully prepared to be caught. The officials at Dover had -probably cabled a warning; the inquisitive stranger might prove to -be their emissary. Quite the contrary occurred. The French official, -catching sight of the magic words _Diplomatic_ and _Special_, -scrutinized no further and returned the papers with a courteous apology. -Making the most of his luck, Hindwood hurried Santa out onto the -platform, down the long train labeled Stuttgart, Warsaw, etc., and into -the _wagons-lits_ which went express to Vienna. - -Before leaving London he had reserved two separate compartments in the -name of “Philip Hindwood and party.” Now that he claimed them, he found -to his annoyance that they were adjoining and connected by a private -door. It was an indiscretion that he had not intended. Having seen Santa -safely settled, he set off to superintend the placing on board of their -bags. - -He was gone perhaps five minutes. As he reentered the corridor of his -section, the first sight that met his eyes was the handsome stranger -engaged in earnest talk with the _wagon-lits_ conductor. Some money -passed. Next thing the stranger's belongings were being transferred -from lower down the train to the compartment on the further side from -Santa's. Hindwood entered his own compartment, shaded the windows that -looked out on the corridor and made fast his door. - -What was the game? Was this a fresh example of Santa's irresistible -charm? And if it was, was he to be subjected to this kind of -impertinence throughout the entire journey? Or was the man a secret -service agent in the employ of some foreign Government, who, believing -he had recognized her, was keeping her in sight till she should have -crossed the frontier into his own country, where he would have power to -arrest her? - -In his anger he tried to blame Santa; she must have unconsciously -exercised her talent for attraction. Strangers didn't follow women -unless---- - -But he had to own himself unjust. She was dressed with the utmost -plainness, in a tailored costume, minus furs or any lavishness. There -was nothing to complain of in her deportment. It was as modest as -could have been expected had she really been “Edith Jones, aged thirty, -American-born citizen, confidential secretary.” The fault lay in -something beyond her control--her beauty. It refused to be subdued. -It shone out the more conspicuously in the absence of adornment. It -constituted itself an unforeseen embarrassment, if not a menace. The -further he traveled into continental countries, the less he would be -believed when he stated that she was Miss Jones and no more than his -secretary. Already more people than the obtrusive stranger had stared -at her. She had only to appear to make herself the focus of attention. -Sooner or later, to-day, to-morrow, a month hence, some one would catch -sight of her who had known her in the past. She had been feted in -too many cities, her portrait had been too widely published, for her -features not to be remembered. These distressing reflections were cut -short by the shrill tootings of tin horns which announce the departure -of a train in France. When Calais had been left behind and they were -rushing past stripped orchards and harvested fields, he unlatched the -dividing door. She was sitting lost in thought, staring out of the -window with a wistful expression. - -“Come into my compartment. I'd like to talk.” - -The jerk with which she turned betrayed the strain under which she -was laboring. He watched the undulating grace with which she rose, the -calculated delicacy of her every movement. Though she had dressed in -rags, nothing could have disguised her. - -When he had closed the door, she remained standing. - -“Please sit down,” he said with cold politeness. “We're safe for the -moment. As you see, I've lowered the blinds. No one can spy on us. -You've noticed him?” - -Drawing off her gloves, she smoothed them out mechanically, maintaining -her silence. - -“Tell me,” he urged, “what do you make of him?” - -“Nothing.” Her voice was flat and toneless. “Wherever I go, it's always -the same. You ought to know--on the _Ryndam_ you were like it.” - -He passed over the implied accusation. “Then you don't think he's -a----?” - -“I've not troubled to think.” She glanced drearily aside. “Men are -brutes. If you'd left me alone on the cliff--I wish you had. It would -have been all ended.” - -She said it without spite--almost without reproach. In the presence of -her melancholy, he recovered something of his compassion. - -“But I didn't leave you, and nothing's gained by recrimination. The -point is this fellow next door. What's his purpose? How are we going to -manage him?” - -“Easily. Fling me to him as you'd toss a dog a bone. You'll be rid of -your share of the danger.” - -“I don't want to be rid of you.” He passed his hand across his forehead, -mastering his impatience. - -“I don't pretend I shan't be glad----” - -“To be quit of me,” she prompted. - -“To be relieved of the risk of you,” he corrected. “But not until I've -fulfilled my promise.” - -She smiled. “You promised you'd save me. I can't be saved. Varensky's -talk about redeeming me was visionary. I was born to be what I am.” - -He relaxed and sat forward, exerting himself to make the conversation -less unfriendly. “Of course I know why you speak this way: it's because -of my recent treatment of you. We were nearly found out at Dover; -the anxiety of it's getting on my nerves. I promised to give you your -chance; my promise stands. The least I can ask of you as a sportswoman -is to play up to me.” - -Her whole demeanor changed. The golden face flashed. “I will.” - -“Then if this man is only an impudent admirer, how are we to shake him? -It's my business for the present to protect you. If this is the sort -of thing that always happens, it's possible that it'll occur again. I -daren't resent his conduct. Ordinarily I should know what to do with -him. How is the repetition of the annoyance to be avoided?” - -A slow flush mounted from her throat to her cheeks. “You won't take my -suggestion, so I don't think I'll make it.” - -“Let's have it.” - -Not looking at him, she muttered: “He'll try to scrape acquaintance. -When he does, introduce me to him as your wife.” - -“But to do that----” - -He fell silent. He was thinking of Anna. For the first time he was -conscious of his aloneness with this woman. - -Not wishing to wound her, he procrastinated. - -“To do that might only add to our complications.” - -“It might.” Her gray eyes struggled to meet his gaze. “It isn't likely. -He won't believe you.” - -“Then what would be gained?” - -“You'd have told him, without insult, that he wasn't wanted.” - -He glanced out of the window at the rushing landscape. At last he spoke. -“If there's no other way----” - -She rested her thin, fine hand on his gently. “You're generous. If the -day ever comes when you despise yourself as I despise myself to-day, -remember that once you were able to make a wicked woman believe in -goodness--to make her long with all her heart to be like you.” Her eyes -became misty. “At this moment I'm not far from redemption.” - -Lunch was announced. He gave orders to have it served in his -compartment. While they ate, he outlined to her his plans. He had asked -her how long she expected to be with him. - -Her reply was discomfortingly vague. “As long as you can endure me.” - -“Inside of two months,” he told her, “I think I can promise you -immunity. At present, according to information, Central Europe's -starving. With winter comes the crisis. I've forseen that. For some time -I've been shipping food to Holland. It's lying there in warehouses in -immense quantities. I have an entire fleet secretly at work, plying back -and forth across the Atlantic. When the famine becomes too acute, I'm -prepared to strike my bargain. I'll take railroads and concessions in -exchange for bread. Other upstarts have carved out kingdoms with armies; -I intend to conquer mine with food. There never was a war or any social -uprising that wasn't caused by an empty stomach. Within three hours -of my terms having been accepted, my trains will be streaming out of -Holland. Where they halt, the flames of revolution will be quenched. If -I haven't miscalculated, I shall be unofficial President of the United -States of Europe.” He paused to watch his effect. “I've nominated -myself,” he smiled. - -His smile was unreturned. She was regarding him with an expression of -horror. Their rôles seemed reversed. It was evident that to her way of -thinking it was he who had become the criminal and she who was looking -down on him from a higher moral level. - -“But they're starving.” Her voice shook passionately. “If you have these -stores, why don't you feed them? They're dying. So many of them are -children!” - -“You don't understand.” He tried to make his tones reasonable. “I've -invested all my fortune in the venture. I'm a business man. In business -one man's calamity is another's opportunity. The same is true of -nations.” - -Seeing that she still looked grieved, he patted her shoulder. “Don't -worry. We'll rustle through. Your life will be spared.” - -“I wasn't thinking of my life.” She spoke contemptuously. - -“Then of what?” - -“Of the women dead of hunger in the ditches about Kiev.” - -As she rose to leave, she glanced back from the doorway. “There was -a message I had to deliver to you. Varensky's setting out on his last -journey. He hopes to see you in Budapest. He told me to say, 'Soon you -can have her.'” - - -II - - -Thrusting its war-scarred head into the clouds, Amiens had been left -behind: they were skirting the old battle-line. Though seasons had come -and vanished, memories of tragedy were still apparent. Shell-torn walls -had been patched, but the patches served to emphasize the ruin. One -could trace in the landscape crumbling trench-systems and the rusty red -of entangled wire. Here and there, in gleaming plots, white crosses grew -in humble clusters. In fancy he pictured the hosts who had died. The -unprofitable patience of their sacrifice! Had they known what was to be -the result, would they have gone to their death so gladly? The result of -their idealism was hunger. He recalled his awkward phrase--the world's -hunger had proved to be his opportunity. Santa's horror disturbed his -memory. He was inclined to go to her and explain. Everything had to be -purchased by labor. Anything one possessed was the wage of labor. To -give things away did harm. It wasn't business. It set a premium on -laziness. Even to give food to a starving nation did harm; it made that -nation a pauper. The most primitive of all laws was that bread should -be earned by the sweat of the brow--that if a man did not toil, neither -should he eat. The only righteous way to feed starving people was to set -them to work. So his thoughts ran on, building up the argument. - -But he did not go to her. It was Varensky's message that deterred him: -“He told me to say, 'Soon you can have her.'” Did Santa know what was -meant--that the message referred to Anna? She must know. What difference -would this make to her? She also loved, and she was a panther-woman. - -The countryside grew blurred with dusk. The stiff, white crosses faded -out of sight. Forgetting his danger, he fell asleep, wondering whether -Anna would be with her husband at Budapest. - - -III - - -When he awoke, he was in total darkness. Glancing through the window, -he discovered that the world outside was weakly lit with straggling rows -of street-lamps. They seemed to be marching in the same direction as -the train; in the far distance they rushed together, making night hollow -with their flare. His first thought was of Santa; a thousand things -might have happened. - -As he groped at the handle of the dividing door, he caught the sound of -laughter. - -“May I enter?” - -The Santa whom his eyes encountered was no longer the fugitive from -justice. She was mysteriously changed. There was animation in her -countenance and seduction in her voice. She was again the enchantress -of men, reckless and tender, who had all but captured his heart on the -Atlantic voyage. He looked to see what had caused this transformation. -Lolling in the entrance was the handsome stranger. - -Before Hindwood could speak, she was addressing him gaily. “So you've -wakened! I didn't like to disturb you. You've almost made me miss my -dinner. If you're ready now----” - -The stranger interrupted. “I've not dined. But I have my place reserved. -If there should prove to be no room, perhaps you would flatter me by -occupying my place instead.” - -Santa shook her head graciously. “It's good of you, but my husband and I -will take our chance.” - -She was the only one whom her claim that Hind-wood was her husband left -undisturbed. The two men glared at each other in astonishment. It was -the stranger who recovered first. - -“If I had known that this lady was your wife, I should have asked your -permission before I made my offer. I shall be very happy if you will -permit me to do you both this service. I ought to introduce myself.” - -He fumbled in his pocketbook and produced a card on which was engraved, -“Captain Serge Lajos, Hungarian Royal Hussars.” - -“My name is Hindwood--Philip Hindwood.” Hindwood returned the compliment -surlily. “I agree with my wife; we both prefer that you retain your -place and that we be allowed to take our chance.” - -Santa rose eagerly to prevent the giving of further offense. Her smile -was for the Captain. “We waste time talking. You'll join us, Captain? -We'll take our chance together.” - -Without risking a reply, she led the way, Hindwood following and the -Captain coming last. There was no opportunity for speech in the swaying -corridor. When the dining-car was reached, they were shown immediately -to a vacant table. - -At first they sat in silence, watching how the lights flashing by the -panes were strengthening into a golden blur. - -“Where are we?” - -It was Hindwood who had decided to be amiable. - -“Entering Paris.” - -“So late as that!” He consulted his watch. “We go through without -changing, they told us.” - -“There's no change till Vienna.” - -The Captain's answers were mechanical. He seemed to be brushing aside a -presence that annoyed him. His puzzled eyes were fixed on Santa. - -Suppressing his irritation, Hindwood made another effort at -friendliness. “I didn't notice you till we were getting into Calais. I -guess we must have traveled together from London.” - -Captain Lajos, if that really was his name, seemed to be thinking -of something else. He let some seconds elapse. When he spoke, it was -without looking up. “I noticed you from the first. I can prove it. -Your wife didn't join you till Dover.” Then he seemed to repent of his -intrusive rudeness and changed the subject. “I was glad to see the last -of London. I'd been sent to meet some one who failed to arrive. It was -all in the papers. You probably know as much about the circumstances as -I do. The person was Prince Rogovich.” - -Santa's face went white. Her lips became set in an artificial smile. -Beneath the table her hand clutched Hindwood's. For all that, it was she -who took up the challenge. - -“We've not been reading the papers lately.” Above the clatter of the -wheels, her trembling voice was scarcely audible. “My husband and I -have been very busy and---- But your friend, why was he so unkind as to -disappoint you?” - -The Captain had turned to her as though greedy for her sympathy. His -dark, bold eyes drank up her face. - -“He wasn't unkind. He was----” He shrugged his shoulders and spread -abroad his hands. “Until something is proved, I suppose the best way to -express it would be to say that he was unavoidably delayed. He left -New York on a liner and disappeared on the evening that he should have -landed.” - -Hindwood bent forward, attempting to divert attention from Santa. He -tapped the Captain's hand. - -“Excuse me for intruding on a conversation which you evidently intend -to include only my wife, but there are no points of call on an Atlantic -voyage. If your friend started from New York and the ship was not lost, -how could he have been delayed?” - -“How? That's the question.” - -The Captain's hostility was unmistakable, and yet the odd thing was that -it exempted Santa. - -While the first course was being served, Hindwood racked his brains to -discover the motive which lay behind the Captain's attitude. Was he a -police-agent, amusing himself and biding his time? Was he doubtful of -Santa's identity and cultivating her acquaintance as a means of making -certain? Was he merely a disappointed male, infuriated at finding a -husband in possession? - -Santa was speaking again. She had made good use of the respite to -compose herself. “It must have been terribly anxious for you waiting. -I suppose you were there to meet him at the port where he ought to have -arrived?” - -Hindwood held his breath. She was practically asking the man whether he -had been one of the welcoming group of officials on that night when the -_Ryndam_ had reached Plymouth. If he had been, he must have seen them. -He must remember them. He might even know their biographical details, -their business, and that they were not married. At all events, if that -were the case, it would explain the keenness of his interest. - -“No, I wasn't at Plymouth.” - -They both shot upright in their chairs and sat rigid. For a moment they -had no doubt that the Captain had declared his hand. - -Then he postponed the crisis by adding, “You see, my friend, as you call -him, was traveling by the Holland-American Line, so Plymouth was where -he should have landed. We had a special train arranged to hurry him to -London. The first warning I received of the disaster was at Paddington, -when I was informed that the special train had been canceled.” - -“Then it was a disaster?” - -Santa asked the question in an awed tone which, under the circumstances, -was not altogether feigned. Getting a grip on herself, she leaned across -the table, making her eyes large and tender. “We're fellow-travelers, -chance-met. My husband and I are Americans; when we part from you, -it's almost certain we shall never meet again. I'm not seeking your -confidence, but you're worried. If it would help you to tell----” - -The Captain shook his head gravely. He appeared to be worshiping her -in everything save words, though it was possible that his adoration was -mockery. “There's nothing to tell. Not yet. I wish there were. There may -be something at Paris. The English police are working. They promised to -keep in touch with me by telegram.” - -With amazing daring Santa persisted, “But what do you suppose happened?” - -Before answering the Captain arranged his knife and fork neatly on his -plate. He looked up sharply like a bird of prey. “Murder. To your dainty -ears that must sound shocking. I have reasons for this belief which, for -the present, I'm not at liberty to share.” - -During the pause that followed Hindwood was on tenterhooks lest, with -her next question, she should betray herself. To prevent her, he flung -himself into the gap. - -“I agree with you,” he said with weighty dullness. “I agree with -you that some sort of accident strikes one as extremely likely. You -mentioned that a special had been chartered to bring your friend to -London. That would indicate that he was a person of consequence.” - -“He was.” - -The words sounded like an epitaph. They were spoken with the impatience -of a door being banged. - -Turning to Santa, the Captain was on the point of saying something -further, when the waiter approached with the information that at the -next stop the dining-car would be cut off. They became aware that they -were the only diners left. The train was slowing down. The noise of its -progress had changed to a hollow rumbling, which told them that a bridge -was being crossed. Shifting their gaze, they discovered Paris, sparkling -like a pile of jewels strewn in the lap of night. Below them in slow -coils, mysterious with luminous reflections, wound the Seine. Hindwood's -instant thought was that somewhere out there beneath the darkness, the -woods of Vincennes were hiding. - -Having paid their bill, they commenced the return journey through -corridors dense with eager passengers. Before their section had been -reached, the train was in the station. At the first open door, the -Captain sprang to the platform and was lost. - -“Where's he gone?” Santa whispered. - -Hindwood glanced at her palely. “To get his telegram. To get----” - -Seizing her arm, he hurried her back to his compartment, where behind -locked doors they could spend in private whatever of freedom remained. - - -IV - - -The jig's up.” - -Hoping that he was creating an impression of calmness, he lit a -cigarette. She raised her face to his with a softness in her eyes that -he had never noticed. - -“If it is,” she pleaded, clutching at his hands, “swear you hadn't the -least idea who I really am. Disown me. Act as though my arrest had come -to you as an utter shock.” - -He seated himself beside her. “But, my dear Santa, that wouldn't help -you.” - -“Help me! Of course not,” she agreed with rapid vehemence. “If I'm -caught, I'm beyond helping. It's of you I'm thinking--you, with your -generosity and your splendid plans. If I dragged you down, as I dragged -down all the others, my heart would break. I never meant you any harm. -You do believe me?” - -“I do now.” - -“Say you know that I've loved you,” she urged. And, when he hesitated, -“Quickly. Time's running short. Let me hear you say just once, 'Santa, I -know that you've loved me.'” - -“Santa, I know----” - -“You wouldn't kiss me?” She asked the question scarcely above her -breath. “There've been so many who paid to kiss me. You wouldn't give me -the best, that would be the last?” - -When his lips touched hers, she smiled. - -“They may come now.” - -Minutes dragged by like hours. Every sound was magnified into something -monstrous. A dozen times they imagined they heard police clearing the -corridor, preparatory to bursting in the door. What they heard was only -newly-arrived passengers and porters disposing of their baggage. At last -suspense became its own anesthetic. - -“Did he tell you his destination?” Hindwood whispered. - -Not daring to speak, she shook her head. - -“Why did you get into conversation with him?” Her lips scarcely moved. -He had to listen acutely. - -“I didn't. He pretended to have mistaken his compartment. I was crying. -He saw.” - -“Why were you crying?” - -“Because of you.” - -“And you told him?” - -“Not exactly.” - -“What did he say? I heard you laughing when I entered. How did he -commence?” - -“He said I was too beautiful to be unhappy--it's the way every man -starts. Then he said that he'd recognized me, just as though he'd been -looking for me always. And then he tortured me by wondering whether our -paths had ever crossed.” - -“And you answered?” - -“Never--unless he'd seen me in America.” Hindwood fell silent. Without -warning he leaped to his feet. Before he could escape, she was clinging -to him. - -“Don't leave me to face them.” - -“I'm not.” He freed himself from her grasp. “If I've guessed right, you -won't have to face them.” With that he was gone. - -A quarter of an hour elapsed: he had not returned. Nothing that she -dreaded had happened. With a lurch the train jerked forward. Farewells -were being shouted. Station-lamps streamed past, the scarcer lights -of freight-yards, then at last the glow-worm warmth of a city under -darkness. - -The door opened. She rose trembling, steadying herself against the wall. -When she saw who it was, she sank back. “Tell me.” - -“We were on the wrong track.” He spoke leisurely. “Captain Lajos wasn't -lying. I followed him. He met his man with the telegram. He suspects us -so little that he showed it to me. It read, 'No further developments.'” - -“Thank God.” She pressed her handkerchief to her lips. And then, “Why -should he have shown it to you? It was to put us off our guard.” - -He sat down in the seat opposite. “I think not. He's changed his -tactics. He's made up his mind to be friendly. It's you he's after, but -in a different fashion. He thinks he's in love with you.” - -“But he threatened----” - -“No. It was our own guilty conscience. Here's how I figure it out. He -probably has seen you before. He can't remember where. It may have been -in the days when you were dancing. It was the vague recollection of you -that piqued his curiosity and got him staring. When he found you alone -and crying, he thought he'd stumbled on an adventure. My entering upset -his calculations. I became for him the cruel husband; he hated me on -the spot. My dear Santa, our meeting with him is the luckiest thing that -could have happened.” - -Dabbing her eyes, she tried to laugh. “I don't see it.” - -“It's as plain as a pike-staff.” He bent forward, lowering his voice. -“He was mixed up with Prince Rogovich. He's one of the people who's -hunting for you. In his company you won't be suspected. He'll get you -across all the frontiers.” - -She was still reluctantly incredulous. “But the things he said at -dinner. He played with us like a cat.” - -“He wasn't playing with us.” Hindwood became eager in his determination -to convince her. “He was playing into our hands. He knows all the things -that we want to know. Every move the police make is telegraphed to him. -It was the frankness with which he let us into his secrets that was so -alarming.” - -“Then how must we act?” - -“The way we have been acting. Until it's safe to be rid of him, we must -keep him believing that we're married, and none too happily. I'm afraid -it's up to you to keep him lulled by pretending----” - -“Don't;” she closed her eyes. “It's like going back to the ugly past.” - -“It's beastly, I know.” He spoke seriously. “But what else----? Any -moment he may recall where last he saw you. Sleep over it. We can decide -in the morning.” - - -V - - -All night he had been haunted by the oppressive sense that, if he did -not watch, something terrible would, happen. It was shortly after dawn -when he rose. Stepping into the corridor he found that he had the train -to himself. It seemed as depopulated as an early morning house and, -despite the clamor of its going, as silent. He placed himself near -Santa's door and stood staring out at the misty landscape streaking past -like a trail of smoke. It was here that Santa found him when she slipped -from her compartment. - -He turned quickly. “He's not up yet.” Then, noticing her pallor and the -shadows under her eyes, “You haven't slept?” - -“Not much.” - -“Making your decision, I suppose?” - -She bit her lip nervously. “I shall have to pretend---- It'll only be -pretending. You'll understand?” - -“It won't last long,” he comforted her. “If we've been running on time, -we must be in Alsace-Lorraine already. Within the next few hours we'll -be out of France and into Germany. You'll feel safer there, won't you?” - -What he was really asking was whether it wasn't true that during the war -she'd been a German spy. - -“Shall I?” was all she answered. - -They fell silent. Without mentioning it, each guessed the motive which -had occasioned the other's early rising. They dared not let the Captain -out of their sight. While they could not see him, they had no peace of -mind. Whereas yesterday his companionship had seemed to spell death, -to-day it spelt protection. Yesterday they had done everything to elude -him; to-day it would probably be he who would do the avoiding. It was -essential that they should have won his confidence before they arrived -on German soil. There was little time to lose. He had not appeared when -the first sitting for breakfast was announced. - -In the restaurant car they dawdled over their meal and sat on long after -it was ended. They had even begun to discuss the possibility of his -having left the train during the night, when with an eagerness kindred -to their own he entered. Hindwood waved to him. - -“I'm afraid we've finished. But won't you seat yourself at our table? -I've no doubt my wife will join you in a cup of coffee. While you -breakfast, if it's not objectionable, I'll smoke a cigarette.” - -Captain Lajos beamed like a pleased boy. If one wasn't prejudiced in his -disfavor, it was possible to find him likable. “I shall be delighted,” - he said in an embarrassed tone. “Journeys are tedious nowadays. Once -every one who counted was gay and prosperous; one was never at a loss -to find a friend. To-day, in this bankrupt world, the only travelers are -money-lenders and pawn-brokers.” He laughed. “I may as well confess: I -didn't think you were up yet--that's what made me late. I was so tired -of my own society that I was waiting for you.” - -As he said, “I was waiting for you,” his eyes flashed on Santa. - -It was she who spoke. “I fancy we've been just as bored with ourselves -and even more eager to meet you. What you told us last night sounded so -mysterious and romantic. I could hardly sleep for thinking about it. To -have a Prince for one's friend and to travel so far to welcome him, only -to find----” She clasped her hands childishly. “Life can be so drab--how -drab, a man of your kind can never know. American husbands, no matter -what they possess, take a pride in always working.” - -He disappointed her curiosity with a crooked smile. “Whether you're a -Prince or a millionaire, there's nothing romantic about being murdered.” - Then her allurement kindled the longing in his eyes. “You're wanting me -to confide the secrets that I warned you I couldn't share. Surely you -must know something of Prince Rogovich?” - -“No. Truly.” She returned his searching gaze with apparent frankness. - -Hindwood jogged her elbow. “My dear, I've remembered. When we sailed -there was a Prince Rogovich in the States, doing his best to raise a -loan--I think it was for Poland. It was rumored that the money was to be -squandered on military adventures. I guess he didn't find many takers. -You're in the Hungarian Hussars, Captain, but you must excuse me for -stating that on our side of the Atlantic we've seen all we want of -armies.” - -Santa clicked her tongue impatiently. “That's all very well, but it -doesn't explain why the Prince----” - -“It might,” Hindwood insisted mildly. “Discouraged men often commit -suicide. He was coming home. He'd failed in his object----” - -“He hadn't.” The Captain glanced quickly behind him to see whether any -one could have heard him. He continued in a voice that was little above -a whisper, “Only a few of us knew. He was coming home in triumph.” - -Leaning across the table with suppressed excitement, Santa made the -appeal of pretty women throughout the ages. “I wish you'd trust me.” - -Hindwood pushed back his chair. “It's time for a cigar. Perhaps you'll -join me later. If you'll excuse me----” - -They paid him scant attention. The last he saw of them they were gazing -enraptured into each other's eyes. - - -VI - - -It was well over an hour since he had returned to his compartment. He -had left his door wide, so that he could inspect every one who passed -along the corridor. They couldn't have slipped by without his noticing. -He was becoming almost as distrustful of Santa as he was of the -stranger. Already the rôle of unwanted husband was growing irksome. The -thing that baffled him most was her morbid curiosity. It was revolting -to think of her, with her disarming air of refinement, encouraging -her admirer to conjecture the details of a crime which she herself had -committed. But how had she committed it? He himself did not know. He had -just begun to contrive the scene in his mind when they entered. Her face -was lit with a new intensity. At a glance he was aware that whatever she -had learned had quickened her emotions. The Captain followed grudgingly, -like a dog hanging back on a chain. - -“Captain Lajos has been telling me,” she commenced. “But we'd better -have the door closed. He's been telling me things that you ought to -know. He's so concerned for my sake that he's offered to repeat them.” - -The Captain seated himself opposite to Hind-wood and regarded him -gravely. “The things that I've been telling your wife are not my -secrets. I must ask you to give me your solemn promise.” - -“You may take that for granted.” - -“And there's one other point. I didn't offer to repeat them; it was Mrs. -Hindwood who urged me. I'm making this plain because I don't want you to -think I'm offering you my advice uninvited.” - -Hindwood lit a fresh cigar, fortifying himself against whatever shock -was pending. “I give you full credit for your motives.” - -“Then let me ask you a question. Have you noticed that there are -scarcely any women on this train?” - -“I believe you're right. But until you mentioned it I hadn't noticed.” - -“Well, if you'll watch, you'll see that I'm correct. There are women -and children in plenty on trains moving westward. But on trains moving -eastward, where we're going--no.” - -Hindwood watched the man intently, wondering at what he was driving. - -“Would you be surprised,” he continued, “if I were to tell you that one -of the chief reasons for the women's absence is this affair of Prince -Rogo-vich?” - -“You rather harp on Prince Rogovich, don't you?” Hindwood flicked his -ash. “After a time one ceases to be surprised at anything. But aren't -you presuming too much in insisting on his having been murdered? All -that's known by your own account is that he's vanished. In any case, -what can he possibly have to do with the scarcity of women on trains -running eastward?” - -“Everything.” The Captain's face darkened with earnestness. “What I'm -trying to tell you is that you're taking your wife into danger. Every -man who can afford it, in the countries to which you're going, is -hurrying his women-folk to France, England, Spain, America--anywhere -westward for safety. They can feel the storm rising, the deluge of -catastrophe that can't be held back much longer. When it bursts, it'll -tear everything established from its moorings and sweep across Europe in -a wave of savagery.” - -“And this deluge that you speak of--what had Prince Rogovich to do with -it?” - -“He was keeping it from bursting.” - -Hindwood smiled. “Alone?” - -“No man's single strength could accomplish that. He was one of the most -powerful of the resisting forces. When society's tottering, it's the -little added strain that upsets the equilibrium. Remember how the last -war started, with an obscure assassination.” - -Hindwood crossed his knees and dug himself back into the cushions. “Your -information, to say the least of it, is strangely melodramatic. If I -understand you aright, you're urging me to discontinue my journey. Can't -you be more explicit?” - -“I can.” The Captain betrayed a hint of temper. “I suppose I shall have -to if I'm to convince you. The stability of the whole of Central and -Eastern Europe has been upset by the repartitioning of the Peace Treaty. -The situation as it exists to-day is intolerable. The ruin which the war -commenced has been completed by the pacification. The old social order -has been overthrown; in its place we have a dozen rash experiments. In -Russia, instead of the Czar, we have Bolshevism. In what was once the -Austro-Hungarian Empire we have a series of Republics, which are nothing -more than old racial hatreds entrenched behind newly created frontiers. -In Poland, which was prisoner to three nations for two centuries, -we have a released convict, vengeful with a sense of past injustice. -Instead of reconstruction, we have disorganization. Trade is at a -standstill. Money is valueless. Confidence is gone. Poverty has made a -clean sweep of class distinctions. Mob-rule has usurped the rights of -authority. Like a lean wolf, famine gallops through the desolation in -ever widening circles.” - -“But Prince Rogovich?” Hindwood recalled him. “What had he to do with -it?” - -“He was the leader of the monarchist party in Europe--the organizer of -a secret movement to set up again the thrones which war has toppled. -Incidentally he was to have established a new throne for himself -in Poland. Behind him he had the landowning classes and the old -aristocracy, which the new regime of haphazard democracy has beggared. -He was biding his time till the crisis should become sufficiently acute -for him to strike his blow. He had his armies ready. All he lacked was -munitions. The floating of the loan in America completed his program.” - -“But you said that the fact that he was returning in triumph was known -only to a few. If only a few knew it, why should his death have caused -this sudden exodus of women on trains running westward?” - -“For two reasons: because he was the recognized strong man of the buffer -states which lie between Russian anarchy and civilization; and because -the crisis of starvation, for which he had been waiting, is now in -sight. While Bolshevism was making its drives against Poland, Central -Europe was compelled to hold together. Now that Bolshevism is crumbling, -that compulsion is relaxed. All the way from Siberia to the frontiers of -Germany millions are perishing from lack of food. Presently the Russian -millions will commence to march westward to the lands of plenty. -They'll march like Death, swinging his scythe. They'll sweep on like a -pestilence. They'll lope like gaunt wolves, savage and relentless. The -starving peoples of Central Europe, who would once have resisted them, -will join them. Prince Rogovich, had he lived, could have prevented -them.” - -“How?” It was Santa. - -“He would have declared a new war, with the return to monarchy as his -battle-cry. He had his nucleus armies in readiness; they would have -sprung from their hiding-places overnight. There would have been a -tremendous rally to him as the only man unscrupulous enough to handle -the situation. He would have made his bargain with the Allies.” - -“And then?” - -“He would have trained his guns on the lean hordes of Russia and would -have blown them back across their borders.” - -Again Santa spoke. Her voice came low and haltingly. “He would have made -the world pass through the fires of Moloch for a second time. The person -who murdered him must have known it.” - -Hindwood turned to her. There was a startled expression in his eyes. He -was quite certain she had known it. He was seeing the real Santa for -the first time. She was a Charlotte Corday, who had dipped her hands in -blood that she might prevent a more colossal crime. - -“I begin to see,” he muttered. - -The Captain took the words as addressed to himself. “I'm glad you do. -It must be obvious to you now that where you're going is no place for -a woman. If you'll accept my advice, you'll turn back at the next -stopping-place.” - -“Impossible.” Hindwood recalled himself to the part he was playing. -“You're a soldier; you'd be ashamed to run away at the first hint of -danger. In a sense I also am a soldier, a soldier of business. I, too, -have my marching orders and my duty.” - -“Then if you won't turn back yourself, send Mrs. Hindwood back.” The -man's voice shook. “You're taking her to almost certain death. She's too -beautiful--I beg it of you.” - -To his amazement Hindwood found himself liking the stranger. “My wife's -beauty has no bearing on the problem. We're exceedingly grateful to you, -Captain Lajos; but to act on your warning--it's out of the question.” - -The Captain shot him a dark look, then let his gaze rest on Santa. When -she kept her eyes averted, he pretended to lose interest in the subject. -The train was slowing down. He cleared the pane with his glove. - -“It's the frontier.” - -Hindwood rose and hurriedly commenced to gather together his belongings. -Sitting perfectly still with an air of quiet criticism, the Captain -watched him. When the last bag had been strapped and made ready for -removal, “Why are you doing that?” he inquired. - -“The German Customs. I suppose we'll have to get out and go through the -old jog-trot of being inspected.” - -“You don't need to; you can have it done here. Excuse me, if I seem -officious. I was immediately behind you at Calais and couldn't help -noticing that your passports are the same as mine--diplomatic. The -advantage of a diplomatic passport in crossing frontiers is that the -officials have to come to you.” - -“I didn't know. If that's the case--” - -He resumed his seat with a sickening sensation. The Captain's presence -was stifling him. He longed to escape, if it were only for five minutes. -He felt choked with lies. It seemed impossible that the Captain should -not be aware of the atmosphere of falsehood. - -Passengers were already filing down the corridor and being herded by -soldiers on the platform. As carriages were emptied, doors were locked -and sealed. Evidently nothing was to be left to chance; while the -passengers were held prisoners in the waiting-rooms, the train was to -be searched from end to end. To a guilty conscience there was something -exceedingly intimidating about this military display of thoroughness. - -The _wagon-lits_ conductor looked into the compartment. Seeing the three -of them seated there, he burst into a frantic protest. Captain Lajos -annihilated him with the ferocity of his explanation. When the conductor -had retreated, the Captain turned to Hindwood. - -“Like most of your compatriots, I see you're not strong on languages. If -I can be of use to you, I'll act as your interpreter.” - -“My wife is--” Then he remembered that he knew nothing of Santa's -linguistic attainments. “You're very thoughtful of our comfort,” he -substituted. - -Guttural voices sounded. Two crop-headed ex-drill-sergeants presented -themselves. Without waste of words they rasped out a peremptory order. - -“They want to see your passports,” the Captain interpreted. - -While the passports were being examined, there was silence. Again -questions were asked and again the Captain interpreted. - -“Are you carrying fire-arms?” - -“Have you any contraband?” - -“Do you intend to stay in Germany?” - -There was a pause. The passports were folded and on the point of being -returned when another unintelligible conversation started. - -The Captain smiled. “They're punctilious. As a matter of form, they want -to hear you assert that you're the Philip Hindwood to whom this passport -was issued.” - -“Most certainly. They can prove that by comparing my face with the -attached photograph.” - -The Captain turned to Santa with the utmost suavity. “And that you're -the Edith Jones, Mr. Hindwood's secretary.” - -Having exploded his bomb, he rose. For a moment he seemed to hesitate as -to whether he should expose them. Then, making a stiff bow, he murmured, -“That's all.” - -Directly he had departed, Hindwood locked the door behind him. “He shall -ferret out no more of our secrets.” - -From then on, they traveled in a state of siege. Several times they -thought they heard a tapping. Whether it was the Captain's, they did not -allow themselves to discover. They opened to no one whom they had not -summoned. - - -VII - - -Soon after the train restarted, Santa rested her hand on his arm. “You -think better of me now. I'm so tired, I should cry if you spoke to me. -Let me sleep on your couch. I'm afraid to be alone.” - -He covered her with his rug and did his best to make her comfortable. -She was utterly exhausted. In a few minutes her eyes closed and she was -breathing gently. - -Several hours elapsed. She was still sleeping. He was glad not to have -to talk. His mind was filled with a tremendous picture: “There was a -certain rich man, which was clothed in purple and fine linen, and fared -sumptuously every day. And there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, -which was laid at his gate full of sores.” - -He saw the world that he was leaving, self-satisfied, callous, -well-nourished. He saw the world to which he was going, out of which he -had planned to make a profit--a world picked clean by the crime of -war and peopled by living skeletons. When its pain had passed -beyond endurance, the outcast world would attack the world which was -comfortable. It would come crawling like a beggar to a rich man's door. -When it found the door barred, it would go mad. It had nothing to lose -by violence. With its bare hands it would storm the dwelling. - -How would the comfortable world defend itself? The Captain said with -cannon. From a safe distance it would blow the empty bellies into -nothingness. But bread was cheaper than high explosives. Why not fill -the empty bellies instead of shattering them? - -He recalled the fields round Amiens, starred with miniature forests of -stiff, protesting crosses. Why had those crosses been planted if it had -not been to teach the living world to share? - -A barricade of bread could prevent further bloodshed. It always could -have prevented it. The gray tide of wolf-men could be halted by a -barricade of bread. Strange that no one had ever thought of it! There -had never been a war that a barricade of bread could not have halted. -Back and forth across the Atlantic his food-ships were plying. In -Holland his warehouses were bulging-- - -He glanced at the sleeping face of Santa--sweet and sad as an avenging -angel's. Her solution of injustice was simple: to slay the wrong-doer -before he could do his wrong. It was her own suffering that had taught -her this cruel mercy. If she, a half-caste, disinherited at birth, could -so risk her soul's salvation for humanity-- - -He drew himself up sharply. He was turning visionary. At this rate he -would end as a second Varensky. All his plans for capturing power would -be thwarted. He had seen nothing as yet that would corroborate the -Captain's disastrous prophecies. - -At Stuttgart he watched the Captain receive another telegram. If the man -had lied to him, what was his purpose? How much did he know? How much -did he infer? Had his discovery that they were not married been an -accident or had he led up to it by strategy? When Vienna was reached, it -would be necessary to throw' him off their track. - -They were winding through blue valleys of the Bavarian Tyrol, steeped -in the contentment of autumnal sunshine. Like eagles' nests, built high -above pine-forests, he caught glimpses of _chalets_ perched on narrow -ledges. Here and there they passed villages, mere clusters of dolls' -houses, childish and make-believe as memories of fairyland. He began to -smile at his mood of pessimism. Were Santa to waken, she would refute -the Captain's bogey stories. He bent over her, tempted to rouse her. At -last he shook her shoulder. - -“Santa, don't be frightened. I want to ask you a question. What the -Captain said wasn't true?” - -She gazed up at him bewildered, dreams still in her eyes; then turned -her face drowsily back to the pillow. “What wasn't true? I don't -understand.” - -“The part about Prince Rogovich and blowing those starving wretches back -with cannon.” - -She settled herself wearily. “I'm so terribly tired. I don't want to be -reminded.” And then, “It was why I killed him; so that he shouldn't.” - - -VIII - - -Darkness had long since gathered when they crossed the starvation-line -into Austria. Perhaps it was no more than imagination, but he -immediately became conscious of a vague depression. Glancing through -the misty panes, he espied no signs of life--only bare fields, pollarded -trees like gallows, and the sullen profiles of shrouded houses. No -trains flashed by, going in the opposite direction. Wayside stations -were shuttered. Night was a stagnant tank. In the all-pervading silence -the sound of their own going was the only clamor. - -It was not until they were nearing Vienna that any lights broke -the monotony of the blackness--even these, like lanterns of lonely -grave-diggers, were faint and rare. Shadowy apartment-houses and rotting -factories looked less like habitations than monstrous sepulchers. It -was difficult to believe that this pulseless carcass had once been the -Bacchante among modern metropolises--that even at this moment memories -of its rhythm were setting the feet of happier streets to music. He -caught the vision of other cities after nightfall; New York, a tall -white virgin, sheathed in jewels; London, a grimy smith, striking sparks -from a giant anvil; Paris, a wanton goddess, smiling through the dusk, -her face lit up by fire-fly constellations. How impossible it would be -to approach any one of them without becoming aware of its presence! Yet -a man might easily travel through Vienna without suspecting that it lay -cowering behind the darkness. - -It was after midnight when the train halted in the empty cathedral of -the Bahnhof. Directly the doors were opened, lean men poured into -the compartments, whining for the privilege of handling the baggage. -Hindwood delayed until he had allowed the Captain sufficient time to -make his exit, then he thought it safe to assist Santa to the platform. -Once again, despite the lateness of the hour, it was necessary to go -through tedious formalities. The question asked most pressingly, as at -the German frontier, was whether they were possessed of fire-arms. - -At last they were free to go in search of beds. As they stepped into -the station-yard, they got their first glimpse of Austria's destitution. -Huddled against the walls was a collection of human derelicts which -seemed more in keeping with Dante's “Inferno” than the city which had -set the world waltzing to _The Merry Widow_. They were of all conditions -and ages, from grandparents to toddling children, from artisans to -aristocrats. In the scant light they lifted up greenish faces which -snarled, while their extended hands demanded charity. The police beat -them back, like huntsmen separating hounds from their quarry. They -retreated whimpering into the shadows. - -From the line of worn-out vehicles which were waiting, Hindwood selected -a creaking taxi. Having seen Santa seat herself, he ordered the man to -drive to the Hotel Bristol. - -“Pretty awful,” he groaned, as he sank back against the musty cushions. - -She stifled a sob. “It was nothing. It's worse than that.” - -He spoke again. “I didn't see the Captain. I think we're rid of him.” - -“I wouldn't be optimistic.” - -Down the long, deserted Mariahilfer Strasse they bumped and rattled. It -was ungarnished and forbidding as an empty house. The few people whom -they met scuffled out of sight at sound of intrusion, looking less like -human beings than vermin. Over all there hung a sense of evil, as though -a crime lay undiscovered behind the silence. - -As they turned into the Ring, which circles the inner city, Santa woke -into animation. Leaning from the window, she pointed. “Do you see that -huge pile like a palace, with all the statues and the steps going up to -it? That's the Opera House. I danced there once at the command of the -Emperor.” - -“Then you're known here?” He clutched her hand. - -She shook her head sadly. “I was the toast of Europe then. Whereas -to-day---- It makes a difference.” - -In the Kârtner-Ring they drew up before a blazing entrance. Laughing -people were passing in and out, women muffled in costly wraps, -accompanied by men in evening-attire. - -“What's this?” The change was so sudden that it shook his sense of -reality. “This doesn't look like--” - -She placed her lips close to his ear as she alighted. - -“It looks like asking for revolution. 'After me, the deluge'--you -remember? The men aren't Austrians. They're foreign vultures here to -snatch bargains--human bargains as well. But the women--” - -Inside the doors of the hotel every reminder of famine had been blotted -out. Its white marble halls and stairways were richly carpeted. Its -furnishings in gilt and satin had been carried out with the utmost -lavishness. The costal of its chandeliers glittered with a dazzling -intensity. From the restaurant drifted the wild gayety of a gipsy -orchestra, enfever-ing the atmosphere with the yearning of elusive -romance. Whispering to the beat of the music came the glide of dancing -footsteps. Flunkeys with powdered heads, tricked out in plush breeches -like marionettes, hurried to and fro on all-absorbing errands. - -After Santa had been shown to her ornate room, he stepped out into the -gloomy street to assure himself. It was all true, in spite of the lie -which he had witnessed. The pinched faces were still there, and the -enfeebled bodies crawling through the shadows. - -As he reentered the white glare which shone from the hotel, he glanced -back with a sense of impending ruin. For a second time his mind was -filled with a tremendous picture: “And there was a certain rich man and -a beggar named Lazarus, which was laid at his gate, desiring to be fed. -Moreover, the dogs came and licked his sores.” - -He caught the vision of his food-ships piling up stores in Holland. At -the thought, as he crept between the sheets in his comfortable bed, he -sickened. - - -IX - - -He had returned from a disturbing interview with the Austrian ministers -responsible for considering his proposals. He was passing the hotel -desk, when it occurred to him that some one might have left a message. -On inquiry two were handed out to him, one a telegram, the other a -letter. Ripping open the telegram, a glance told him it was in German -and had been dispatched from Budapest. He had slipped it into his -pocket, thinking, “I'll have to get Santa to translate that,” when he -unfolded it again to see by whom it had been sent. The sender's name was -a single word, “Anna.” - -His heart gave a bound. She was near to him! He could see her again -within a handful of hours. For a moment nothing else seemed to -matter--neither Santa's safety, nor the agony of hunger by which he -was surrounded. His blood ran hot with yearning. How had she reached -Budapest so quickly? What was her object? To have accomplished the -journey she must have set out from England ahead of him or else have -left on the same day, traveling by the alternative route via Belgium. -While he had been journeying in the company of Santa, going through the -mummery of pretending he was married, Anna had been paralleling his -footsteps. Was Varensky with her? But if she were alone... - -Mechanically, as he entered the elevator, he slit the flap of the -letter. It had evidently been left personally, for it bore no postmark -and was hastily scrawled on the stationery of the hotel. The hand was -unknown to him. The note read: - -“_Yesterday you avoided me. I have told her everything. I am more sure -than ever you ought to send her back. I must leave you now for a little -while. When we meet again, I hope it will be as friends_. - -“_Lajos_.” - -At last they had got rid of him! But what was it he had told her? And -what made him so sure that they would meet again? The man wrote as if he -were confident that he could lay his hands on them at any moment. - -Stepping out of the elevator, Hindwood made directly for Santa's room. -He recalled it vaguely as he had seen it the night before, with its -Empire furniture, painted cupids, silken hangings, and tall mirrors--its -knowing air of having been the illicit nest of innumerable short-lived -love-affairs. Its gaudy luxury, so glaringly in contrast with the -embittered need of the outside world, had stirred his anger. In reply -to his knock, her hoarse voice bade him enter. Before he was across the -threshold, he was aware of the intoxicating fragrance of roses. - -Just inside the room, frowning with bewilderment, he halted. There were -stacks of them--sheaves of them everywhere. They were scattered on the -floor. They were arranged in vases. They lay strewn about in boxes. They -were of all shades and varieties. - -“What's the meaning?” - -She beckoned to him to join her at the tall window against which she was -standing. - -“We missed this last night.” She pointed. - -Following her direction, he saw that the window looked down obliquely -on the imposing architecture of the Opera House. The mellow October -sunlight drifted softly across gray roofs and fell in an orange splash -into the deep fissure of the street below. Along the pavements the -tide of traffic wandered nervelessly. On a neighboring ledge, two plump -pigeons were engaged in an ardent courtship. - -“What did we miss? I see nothing.” - -Then he noticed the panting of her bosom and that her expression was -tender with tremulous emotion. - -Drawing her fine fingers across her eyes, she shuddered. “Stupid of me! -I forgot; they would bring back nothing to you--the scent of the roses -and then the Opera House, looking the same as ever. I've been dreaming -of other mornings, when I woke after nights of triumph. Perhaps it was -this room that set me remembering. It's not the first time I've slept in -it.” As she caught his eyes reading her memories, she flushed guiltily. -“Yes, in those days I was never lonely.” - -“But the roses!” he reminded her impatiently. “How did you get them? At -the price things cost in Vienna, some one must have spent a fortune.” - -She placed a hand on his arm appealingly. “Don't begrudge me. He must -have known. I think he did it for my burial.” - -Her words sent a chill through him. He shifted his weight uncomfortably. -“We're in too tight a corner to waste energy on sentiment. If we're -going to make a fight for it, we've got to keep our heads clear. Who -gave them to you?” - -She pressed her forehead against the warm pane. The gold of the world -outside cast a sheen of gold on her profile. Her unwanted loveliness -hurt him. It reproached him. It recalled to him the ache of his old -desire in the days before he had known that he could have her. And now -that he could have her for the asking.... - -“Captain Lajos gave them to me. They've been arriving ever since we -parted. He waited till you'd gone; then he came to me. He came to tell -me why he'd followed me. He was persuaded I was your mistress. This -morning he did something noble--very noble for a man of his sort to a -woman of mine; he begged me to become his wife.” - -“Without knowing anything about you? He must be mad.” - -“Don't say that.” She closed her eyes painfully. “I shan't trouble you -or any one much longer. I shall soon be so still. When one's sure of -that, it's good to be loved just once again, even though--” She turned -slowly and faced him. “I don't need to tell you who it is that I love -truly. This man--he's nothing. No man ever will---- You see I've lived -for men and admiration--for things like--” She pointed to the roses. -“It's new to me to be neglected. So it's comforting to know that a man -can still desire me, even though I'd rather kill myself than go with -him.” - -He broke the silence that had settled between them. “You mustn't talk -like this. You've years of life before you. I'll get you away safely.” - -She smiled. “No.” Then she changed the subject. “What happened to you?” - -“You mean at my conference?” He seated himself beside her -dressing-table. “The worst that could have happened--nothing. Some -change has taken place for which I can't account. When I sent my -suggestions from America, they were hailed with enthusiasm. I was a -saviour--everything that's splendid and extravagant. But now---- The -Government's paralyzed. It isn't a Government; it's a passenger. 'You've -let us starve too long. It doesn't matter now--' that's what I was told -this morning. The ministers with whom I consulted spoke as if they were -sitting on the edge of a volcano, waiting to be blown up. They're so -sure that an eruption's inevitable that they don't consider it worth -while to make an effort to save themselves. I couldn't rouse them. When -I pressed them for the cause of their lethargy, they prophesied a new -war, in very much the same words as Captain Lajos--a war in which the -well-fed are to be pillaged by the starving.” - -“But did you tell them that you could ship food into Austria at once?” - -“I told them. I assured them that I could put Austria back on her feet -in twelve months. I offered to provision her and to supply coal for her -factories, if they'd give me control of the railroads and a per capita -percentage on the total increase of national industry. 'Provision us -with pleasure' was their attitude; 'we'll raise no official objection.' -'Very kind of you,' I replied; 'but where do I come in. I'm no -philanthropist.'” He brought his fist down with a bang on the -dressing-table. “There's a nigger in the wood-pile. Upon my soul, I -believe those fellows are determined that I shan't prevent their nation -from dying. If I shipped them the food as a gift, they'd burn it.” - -She came over from the window and stood gazing down at him. “You're -right. They would if they dared. Can't you guess?” - -“I can't. Their currency's hardly worth the paper it's printed on. -People are dropping dead in the streets--I saw them. Their gaols are -packed with children turned criminals through hunger. There'll be no -crops next year; the grain's consumed that should have been saved for -the sowing. They've butchered all their live-stock. The brains of the -country are in exile. The intellectual classes have been wiped out. And -here I come with my offer to save them, and they reject it. Without the -help of some outside force like myself, things can only go from bad to -worse.” - -“Precisely.” - -He glanced up, irritated by the promptitude of her agreement. -“Precisely! Why do you say that?” - -“It's what they want--things to go from bad to worse. The worse things -get, the more certain they are of revolution. They're afraid your food -would postpone it.” - -“Afraid! Why on earth?” - -“Because they hope to snatch more out of the catastrophe of revolution -than you can offer them. These ministers with whom you've been dealing -are the tools of the exiled monarchists. They belong to the party in all -countries which made the last war possible and all wars before it. -What do they care for the people? They never have cared. Let the brutes -starve,' they say, 'if it suits our purpose. We can always breed more.' -They regard the people as their serfs, to be fooled with patriotism when -danger threatens and to be kept in chains to toil for them when peace -has been restored. If the people go hungry long enough, they'll reason -that the loss of their kings is the cause. They'll rise up and recall -them. They'll start to die for them afresh. It'll happen in all the -outcast countries. In the wholesale scramble, it'll be every nation for -itself. The strong will struggle to expand their frontiers, and the -weak will go to the wall. The deluge of blood--” She sank to her knees, -seizing his hands imploringly. “If you'll sacrifice your stores of food, -you can stop it.” - -“But if I do that, without guaranties, I'm bankrupt. I get nothing.” - -“You'll get more than I got when, to accomplish the same purpose, I -murdered Prince Rogovich. I'll get the scaffold. You'll earn the thanks -of humanity. You'll go down to the ages....” - -He could see only the wide greyness of her eyes, pleading, coercing, -unbalancing his judgment. - -He jumped to his feet, shaking off their spell. “I'm no dreamer--no -Varensky,” he said gruffly. “I have to make a profit.” Then, defending -himself from her unspoken accusation, “We're only guessing. We have -no facts. There are other famished countries--Hungary and Poland. What -Austria refuses, they may accept.” He dug his hand into his pocket. -“That reminds me. Here's a telegram from Budapest. I can't understand -it. It's in German.” - -She was crouched on the floor. As he stooped to give it to her, she -caught sight of the signature. - -“From Anna. Varensky must be with her. Then the crisis is nearer than I -thought.” - -“Read it. Tell me what it says,” he urged. - -She looked up palely, wilted with disappointment. “'_Come at once. I -need you_.' That's all.” - -“Does she give no address?” - -“She wouldn't risk it. I know where to find her.” - -“Then we'll start--” - -“But what about--?” - -He did not hear her. The blood was hammering in his temples. He left her -forgotten, seated among her roses. The music of a wild exultation was -maddening his heart. - - - - -CHAPTER THE SEVENTH--THE CAPTURE - - -I - - -SO Anna had turned to him out of all the world! - -She had felt so sure of him that she had not even stated the reason for -her urgency--only “_Come at once. I need you_.” That she should have -relied so implicitly on his compliance put him on his honor not to -disappoint her. She must have known that her telegram would find him -involved in important business. The earliest she could have counted -on seeing him must have been to-morrow. He was determined, if it were -humanly possible, to exceed her best expectations; he would see her -to-night. Having phoned for the hotel porter to be sent to him, he -immediately commenced to pack. He recalled the message that Santa had -delivered him: “Varensky's setting out on his last journey. He told -me to say, 'Soon you can have her.'” Did Anna's telegram mean that -Varensky's final journey was ended? - -He was throwing his belongings together when the porter entered. - -“You wanted me, sir?” - -“Yes. What's the first train--the fastest to Budapest?” - -“The first, if it's still running, starts from the Nord-Bahnhof within -the hour. But--” - -“Then order me a taxi. I'll be ready in ten minutes. Have my bill made -up. Send some one to my secretary's room to fetch down her baggage.” - -“Certainly. But--” - -Hindwood glanced at the man coldly. “I'm in too much of a hurry for -conversation.” - -A little later, as he was pocketing his change, having settled his -account, the cashier addressed him. - -He shook his head. “Don't understand.” Then, catching sight of Santa, -he beckoned. “The fellow's trying to say something. Find out what's -troubling him.” - -The cashier repeated more earnestly the words that he had previously -uttered. - -“He wants to know whether you really think you can leave Vienna,” Santa -translated. - -“What's to prevent?” Then he caught her arm, lowering his voice. -“Perhaps they're on to you.” - -The Kârtner-Ring was extraordinarily deserted. Against the curb a -wheezing taxi was standing--the only one in sight. Its engine was -running. The bags had been piled on the front seat beside the driver, -evidently very much to his annoyance; he was doing his best to -tumble them back on to the pavement. The hotel porter was vigorously -restraining him. An altercation was in progress which threatened any -minute to develop into a fight. - -“What's the matter?” - -The porter replied across his shoulder, still holding the bags in place. -“He doesn't want to drive you.” - -“Tell him I'll give him five times the legal fare.” - -When the offer had been translated, the man seemed mollified. - -The porter opened the door. “Quietly. Jump in before he changes his -mind. He promises to do his best.” - -“His best! I should think so.” - -As the cab moved off, Hindwood missed the porter's parting words. He -turned to Santa. “Do they always come this hold-up game with foreigners -in Vienna?” - -“It isn't a hold-up game. He didn't want to drive us. He was afraid. -Something's wrong. Look how empty the streets are. Didn't you see how -white and scared every one was in the hotel? The cashier would have told -us; you wouldn't even let me listen to him.” - -“Jealous!” he thought. “It'll be awkward having to take care of both her -and Anna.” - -They had driven for ten minutes in silence when Santa spoke again. “It's -a queer way he's taking us.” - -“How queer?” - -“So round-about.” - -“As long as he keeps going, we don't need to worry.” - -“But why should he turn up all the side-streets?” - -“I don't know. It'll be time to grow nervous when he stops.” - -At that moment he stopped, but it was only for a second. Spinning his -cab about, he spurted off in a new direction. Glancing from the window -as he turned, they saw that the main thoroughfare ahead was blocked by -what appeared to be a procession. Street after street he tried, working -round in a circle, never getting any nearer. At last, growing desperate, -he took the plunge, tooting his horn and forcing his way through the -outskirts of the seething mob. By the time Hindwood had ordered him -to turn back it was too late; for a hundred yards behind them, from -pavement to pavement, the thoroughfare was packed with pedestrians and -vehicles, all headed in the one direction. To get out and walk, even -if they had been willing to sacrifice their baggage, was out of the -question. The crowd in front was more dense than the crowd behind. The -air was full of shrieks of fainting women and the shiver of plate-glass -as shop-windows gave way under the pressure. To escape the crush, which -was momentarily increasing, people were clambering to the roof of the -taxi and standing thick along the running-boards. - -Santa was speaking in a torrent to the strangers clinging to the doors. - -“Can't you stop long enough to tell me what's happening?” Hindwood -interrupted. - -She apologized. “I forgot for the moment that you can't speak German. -They're as puzzled as we are. All they know is that they're doing what -every one else is doing. They don't know the cause. The same thing's -happening at every station. A panic's struck Vienna--a foreboding of -disaster. It's a case of nerves. In some places looting has started. -Every one's escaping--the entire population. It's anything to get -westward to France, Switzerland, Germany, away from this nightmare of -starvation. They're storming the trains in the Bahnhof, trying to compel -the engineers to--” - -Turning from him, she commenced to ply more questions in her hurried -flow of German. - -It was all clear now--the porter's hesitancy, the cashier's earnestness, -the driver's reluctance. They had been trying to prevent him from -hurrying a woman into danger. He had been too obsessed by the thought of -reaching Anna even to pay attention. For confirmation of what Santa -had told him, he had only to glance at the surrounding throng. The lean -multitude was absurdly prepared for its futile exodus. Irrespective of -class, every individual was burdened with whatever he or she had had -time to rescue of the household goods. They carried bundles beneath -their arms and sacks on their backs. Everything on wheels had been -commandeered. Some pushed perambulators, piled high with ill-assorted -belongings; others had harnessed themselves to carts. None of them -could have considered whether his or her presence would be allowed in a -happier country. Obviously over night the half of Vienna could not have -procured the necessary permits to travel. - -On the outskirts those who were most desperate, because furthest from -the station, had begun to charge. Hindwood watched the stampede--how -terror was transforming forlorn human beings into animals. They were -of all kinds and sorts, mechanics, waiters, slum-dwellers, merchants, -shop-girls,' demi-mondaines, with here and there a sprinkling of -patrician faces from the palaces of the bankrupt aristocracy. There -were lonely men and women, but for the most part they were grouped -in families, the children dragging at their mother's skirts and -the youngest in the father's arms. They pushed, jostled and fought, -trampling the weak in their frenzy to get forward. - -Suddenly the madness of self-preservation froze with horror. At the -end of the street, far up the pale river of gray faces, horsemen were -advancing, standing tall in their stirrups, smiting with their swords. -Santa flung herself to the floor. “Down. Keep down. The children--oh, my -God!” - -Like a volley of hail, bullets commenced to patter. They whipped the -street from end to end, hissing in their flight and thudding as they -found their target. The taxi tossed and rocked like a rowboat in a -mill-race. The mob had given way; like water from a burst dam, it -roared between the tall, confining houses. It swept backwards weeping, -bleeding, desperate, exhausted, wilder in its retreat than it had been -in its advance. Behind it came the cavalry, riding it down, firing and -stabbing. In five minutes nothing was in sight, save upset vehicles, -scattered belongings, dead lying awkwardly in the October sunshine and -wounded crawling weakly in search of refuge. - -Reaching through the shattered window, Hindwood tapped the driver's -shoulder. “Drive on.” - -At the touch the man crumpled. There was a crimson blot in the center of -his forehead. - -Santa sat up, staring furiously. “If you'd not refused them bread--” - -“I didn't.” - -“You did. You were only willing to sell.” - -Her eyes were blazing. Her hands were clenched. Her tears fell slowly. -In the terrific silence which followed so much clamor, the street itself -seemed to accuse him. Picking up their bags, he led the way to the -station. Scenes such as the one he had witnessed might be happening in -Budapest. There was no time to be lost. - -“Find out whether it's possible to send a wire.” - -“Where to?” she asked suspiciously. - -“To Amsterdam.” - -“What for?” - -“Do you need to ask?” - -After a hurried conversation with a scared official, she turned. “If -it's to do with food, they'll accept it. The lines may be cut at any -moment.” - -He dashed off his telegram. “_Crisis sooner than expected. Without delay -start food-trains under armed guard for Budapest and Vienna_.” - -It might spell bankruptcy for him--the ruin of all his plans. He -rebelled against the improvidence of philanthropy, yet dimly he -discerned the proportions of his chance. If he would, he could teach -the world how wars could be stopped. As he watched the message being -dispatched, he wondered why he had sent it. Was he frightened by the -sight of bloodshed, or angered, like Varensky, by an unjust display of -force? Or had he sent it because this maelstrom of human agony swirled -between him and the woman he loved, and food might prove to be the only -means by which she could be rescued? He sought to explain his actions by -business motives: if his food trains were actually on the spot, he could -strike a better bargain with tottering governments. - - -II - - -The express for Budapest was several hours late. When at last it got -under way, it carried few passengers. It was plunging straight into the -heart of the danger, from which all the world which possessed the price -of a fare was escaping. - -Santa listened to and reported on the conversation of fellow-travelers. -They were Hungarian officers returning to their regiments, to whom a -fight spelt opportunity; they were husbands and fathers, careless of -their own safety in their dread of what might be happening to their -families; they were merchants and men of wealth, anxious to be at hand -for the defense of their possessions. As the talk went on, the greatness -of the risk grew increasingly obvious; it bred an atmosphere of -free-masonry. Strangers accosted each other, exchanging views on the -hazards; they crowded about the entrance of any compartment where a -speaker seemed possessed of accurate information. Most of what was said -was no more than conjecture; much of it was utterly contradictory. One -man asserted that the Bolsheviks were attacking all along the Russian -front; another that Bolshevism had collapsed and the peasants were -massacring. Another knew for certain that throughout Central Europe the -Reds were rising; yet another that the Monarchists had sprung to arms -and were marching. Every rumor or invention was accepted with equal -credulity. Anything was possible. No one knew for certain either the -magnitude or the cause of the rumored disaster. Only one fact seemed -indisputable: somewhere further eastward had occurred a catastrophe of -shattering proportions--a catastrophe in the tragedy of which each one -of them would shortly be involved. - -Hindwood turned away from the babel of voices to the autumn landscape -gliding past the windows. It consisted as far as eye could stretch of -unboundaried, level fields, gridironed by straight, military roads, -marked by avenues of pollarded trees, intersecting always at right -angles. The fields were neglected. They told their own story of seed -consumed, which should have been saved for sowing, and of cattle -slaughtered. Over everything, despite the brilliant blueness of the sky, -there hung an atmosphere of melancholy. Down white-penciled highways -little groups were trekking, always in the one direction. They appeared -crushed and harmless, more like insects, scarcely human. They limped -forlornly, dragging carts and carrying children. They were the -advance-guard of the army of starvation. Hindwood remembered the -Captain's prophecy. “They'll march to the lands of plenty like Death -swinging his scythe, like a pestilence, like gaunt wolves.” - -At the frontier, where the train crossed from Austria into Hungary, he -gained his first lesson in the resistlessness of necessity. There -had been an unequal battle, in which only one side had been armed. It -appeared that the Austrian guards had tried to turn back the Hungarian -fugitives. They had fired their rifles till their ammunition was -exhausted; then they had sickened of the slaughter. Opposition had made -no difference; the tide of fugitives had still pressed on. Misery had -proved more potent than explosives; it had made death, if not desirable, -at least negligible. Its meek persistence had conquered. The Austrian -soldiery had revolted against their officers and stood with grounded -arms, watching the stream of poverty trickling through the barrier of -corpses. - -“Like water finding its own level,” Hindwood thought. It would be like -this the world over, if something were not done at once to check it. The -outcast nations lay one behind the other, like terraced avalanches, in -an ascending scale of destitution--behind the Austrians the Hungarians, -behind the Hungarians the Poles, behind the Poles the Russians, each a -degree more agonized in its privation. Now that the movement had started -it would go on, sliding, filtering, settling, until the peoples of -the earth had regained an economic level. The Dives nations, which had -refused to share, would try to hold the Lazarus nations at bay by force. -They would spray them with cannon. They would charge them with bayonets. -They would bomb them, gas them, dig labyrinths of trenches. In the -end, as had happened here, though the pariah portion of humanity was -weaponless, the meek persistency of its misery would conquer. Careless -of oblivion, it would press on. He alone could give the Dives nations -a seventh hour chance; at the price of his financial ruin, he could -prevent the deluge of famine from spreading by damming it with a wall of -bread. - -Darkness had fallen. The carriages were unlighted. The train was moving -cautiously, jerking, stopping, starting, like a live thing scenting -carnage. Scattered through the night camp-fires were burning. In the -gloom conversation dragged on wearily with reiterated guesses. - -He felt his hand clasped. - -“What is it?” he whispered. “Frightened? You won't be caught now. You're -as safe as the rest of us. No one'll have time to remember you.” - -“I wasn't thinking of myself.” - -“Then--?” - -“Of you--that perhaps you were born for such a time as this.” - -“Ah!” He drew his breath. The echo of his own thought! “And perhaps you, -too,” he suggested. - -She twisted herself, leaning her breast against his arm. Glancing down -through the darkness, he caught the tenderness in her eyes and the -gleaming smoothness of her cheek and throat. - -“I wish I could believe it,” she said softly; “to stand beside you, -making you strong.... You could never love me; but to stand beside you, -when you rescue the world, that would mean redemption.” - -“When I rescue the world!” He laughed quietly. “I'm no Varensky. I came -here to make money.” - -She swept aside his cynicism. “You were born for this moment. And I, an -outcast woman whom the world has hunted, will help you. Perhaps I -shall give my life for you.” She spoke exultantly. “I, whom you have -rejected.” - -“You exaggerate. Things may not be as bad as they appear. What we've -seen may be no more than a local disturbance.” - -She refused to argue. “Be kind to me while we're together.” - -On the outskirts of Budapest they came to a halt. The air was tainted -with a nauseating odor. Standing on a siding was a long line of -freight-cars in process of being shunted. By the light of lanterns swung -by men on the tracks, it was possible to see that the freight-cars were -inhabited. Figures hung out of them thin as skeletons, entirely naked or -clad in flapping rags. The passengers of the express had crowded to the -windows, pointing, commenting, gesticulating. - -Hindwood turned to Santa. “What is it?” - -She answered bitterly. “The death train.” - -“But the people aren't dead.” - -“Not yet. They're families ruined by the war and by the peace. Some -of them saw their homes burned by the Cossacks; others had their farms -stolen to pay the Allies' debts. They're nobody's business. When you've -reached the end of your tether in Hungary, you join the death train and -die by inches. You have no food, no sanitation. Wherever you halt, you -spread contagion. When things have grown too bad in one place, you're -dragged to another.” She swallowed down a sob. “The train's full of -children--and you tell me that you came here to make money.” - -On arrival at Budapest they found the station picketed by soldiers. They -were immediately conducted under an armed guard to an office where the -purpose of their journey was investigated. When Hindwood had explained -their errand--that it had to do with the food-supply--he was treated -with courtesy and given his choice of hotels. Santa chose the Ritz. A -military order was made out for their rooms. A safe-conduct was handed -them. A rickety conveyance, with a lean horse between the shafts, was -allotted to them. They were launched into a city quenched of lights, -with a soldier seated beside the driver for protection. - -The wide avenues down which they drove were deserted. They were still -unaware of what had happened. They had not dared to ask, lest any slip -of the tongue might lead to trouble. There were no signs of revolution -in the thoroughfares. They were hushed and reverent as the aisles of -a cathedral. Every few hundred yards a mounted gendarme rode out to -challenge them; then, seeing the soldier on the box, backed into the -shadows. Only one disquieting incident occurred. The uneasiness which it -caused was due to guilty memories rather than to any actual menace. As -they were turning towards the Danube, they heard a sharp trotting behind -them. A closed brougham swept past, drawn by a pair of high-stepping -horses. The equipage was one which must formerly have belonged to the -Royal Palace; it was the ghost of a forgotten splendor. Hindwood rose in -his seat to watch it vanish. Then he saw something that made him -catch his breath. Running between its wheels was a snow-white Russian -wolfhound. - -Santa heard his commotion. “What's the excitement?” - -“Nothing.” - -By the time she had raised herself to follow his glance, the hint of -peril was gone. The next moment they were drawing up at the hotel. - - -III - - -Again as the door swung to behind them, they were greeted by sounds of -merriment and dancing, only here the abandon was wilder than at Vienna. -Hindwood saw at a glance that this was no assemblage of alien hucksters, -drawn from all the world to gather bargains. As regards the men, they -were devil-may-care and smart, of the same type as Captain Lajos--the -sort who would follow the game to the last throw of the dice. Many of -them had made no attempt to disguise their profession; they were clad in -gorgeous uniforms of Hungarian regiments long since ordered disbanded -by the Allies. Their breasts were ablaze with Imperial decorations. They -strode the marble floors with the clink of spurs and the rattling of -swords. While they drugged the midnight hours with laughter and debauch, -their faces were feverish with listening expectancy--the expectancy of -an event for which they waited. - -The women looked like captives of a raid. Some hung back timidly; some -were bold with wine; all were weary and pinched with hunger. Like the -men, they seemed only to be acting a part. In the midst of recklessness -they would give way to distaste, as though remorseful of this way of -combating starvation. - -With the stench of the death train still in his nostrils, Hindwood -stared at the spectacle in pity and disgust. “Fiddling while Rome is -burning,” he muttered. - -His elbow was jogged by a black-coated individual with the appeasing -manners of a tailor. - -“I understand English. What is it you desire?” - -Hindwood swung round. “So much the better. I want what one usually wants -at a hotel--accommodation.” - -The man rubbed his hands. “Sorry, sir. We're full up. Every room, in -fact every lounge is taken.” - -“You'll have to find something. I have a military order.” - -Having read it the man returned the slip of paper. “That's different. -You're here on Government business--for the same purpose as these other -gentlemen, I take it?” - -Hindwood replied non-committally. “Yes, on Government business.” - -“In that case I'll give you a room in the basement--a servant's, my -last. It's all I have to offer.” - -“But two rooms are necessary. I have my secretary with me--this lady.” - -The man shrugged his shoulders. “To demand the impossible is useless. -To-morrow--who knows? If things happen, I may be able to give you more -rooms than you require. For the present...” - -Seeing that nothing was to be gained by arguing, Hindwood consented to -the arrangement. - -“The room will be my secretary's. If you'll lend me blankets, I'll find -a place in the passage.” - -The room proved to be poor in the extreme--nothing but four bare walls -and an iron cot. When he had turned the key he tiptoed over to Santa. - -“What's this monstrous thing for which they're waiting--this something -that may happen to-morrow?” - -She placed her hands in his, as though she felt the need of protection. -Her golden face was tragic. “War.” - -His common sense revolted. Though everything seemed to prove her guess -correct, he refused to accept it. “War! It can't be. What would any one -gain by it? It was war that produced all this hideous mess--the death -train and all that. Besides, how can people fight who can scarcely -crawl? They have one foot in the grave already. Ten well-fed men could -defeat a battalion. Whatever's in the wind, it isn't war. To launch a -war requires money.” - -“With you it's always money. To launch this kind of a war requires -nothing but despair.” - -Stepping back from him tempestuously, she flung herself full length on -the cot. Her face was hidden, buried in the pillow. While she lay -there tense, the sound of dance-music, advancing and retreating, tapped -dreamily against the walls. It spoke to him of romance, of a woman he -could love, and of passion snatched perilously before life ended, in a -mysterious city after nightfall. - -She had raised herself and was regarding him feverishly. Her red lips -were parted as with thirst. - -“I know you so well,” she was saying softly; “I know you because I love -you. You refuse to believe it's war because you wouldn't be able to sell -and bargain. But it is war--the sort of war we saw at the frontier: -a war in which weaponless millions will march to the overthrow of -embattled thousands.” - -“You're unjust.” He spoke patiently. “I'm unwilling to believe it's war -because I can't see any reason for it.” - -“Any reason!” Her eyes became twin storms. “Would you require a reason -if you'd seen your children die for lack of bread? You'd perish gladly, -if you could first tear the throat out of one person who was too well -nourished.” - -He went and stood beside her, stooping over her, placing his hand -against her forehead. “You're burning. You've been through too much. Get -some rest. To-morrow we'll find Anna and perhaps Var-ensky; it's more -than likely they'll be able to tell us.” He paused. “I know what makes -you so relentless; it's your own dead child--” - -Her arms shot up, dragging him down and nestling his face against her -breast. “Oh, my man, it's not that. It's that I'm jealous for you--so -afraid you may deceive yourself and miss your chance.” He stumbled back -from the temptation of her yielding body and the comfort of her fragrant -warmth. - -“My chance is yours; we may both have been born for this moment.” - -Long after he had stretched himself outside her door, he felt that in -the austerity of the four bare walls she still crouched watching from -her bed. - - -IV - - -He slept restlessly. The music and the dancing rarely halted. Once when -he roused, it was with the suffocating sense that a man was bending -over him, fumbling at the handle of Santa's door. As he sat up, he was -convinced that the man looked back just before he vanished around the -corner. - -When he finally wakened, it was in the chill of dawn. He was surrounded -by a ghostly stillness. Rising softly, he slipped down the passage and -out into the public rooms of the hotel. It was as though a wizard had -waved his wand. The merry-makers lay strewn about carelessly, wherever -sleep had overtaken them. In the pale light of morning, robbed of -animation, their faces showed waxlike and wan. Swords, which had -clattered martially, sprawled grotesquely by crumpled bodies. Uniforms -looked tarnished, dresses shabby. Girls, with their lips parted and -their hair disordered, lay with heads stretched back in their lovers' -arms. Over all was spread the weariness of folly. - -Tiptoeing from group to group, he searched for the man who had tried -Santa's door. Nowhere could he find him. Returning to her room, he -tapped lightly. He was afraid to make more noise in that atmosphere of -menace. Receiving no answer, he pushed the door stealthily and peered -across the threshold. He had feared lest he might find her gone; there -she lay curled up in her cot, her hair poured across her pillow, her -face cushioned against her hollowed arm. Gray light falling from a -narrow window clothed her with a lonely pathos. Bending over her, he -shook her shoulder. “Santa.” - -She sat up with a start. - -“Has it happened?” - -“Not yet. They're sleeping like the dead.” - -“Then why--?” - -“There's someone who knows us here. He tried your door. It makes me -think we're watched. We can slip out now and hunt up Varensky. If we -wait till later, we'll be followed.” - -Her pupils dilated, obscuring the grayness of her eyes; they became -black pools, mirroring her terror. “To be caught with Varensky would -mean death.” He seated himself on the edge of her cot. “I didn't think -you knew what fear was. Don't be frightened. I'll protect you.” - -“Dear!” All of a sudden she had become intensely calm. “Did you think I -was afraid for myself? Before many days, perhaps before to-day is out, -it'll be you who'll need protecting. I beg you, don't go near Varensky.” - -“But--” - -“Let me go myself,” she implored. When he glanced away without replying, -she rushed on impetuously. “Some one's got to take risks. I don't count. -Your life must be spared.” - -With an effort he brought his gaze back. “There's Anna.” - -Instead of the explosion he had expected, her voice became gravely -tender. “I forgot. You care for her as I care for you. I'm sorry.” - -Her feet slipped to the floor; he saw them marble white against the -bare, scrubbed boards--beautiful as hands, the feet of a dancer. As he -retreated, she smiled bravely, “You shan't wait long.” - - -V - - -So far as they were aware, no one had noticed their departure. The -deep breathing of the motley throng had been like the beat of a muffled -engine. Even the night-porter, who should have been on guard, had -collapsed across his desk with his face buried in his arms. - -They had stepped out of the hotel into a pulseless street where mists -from the Danube hung like cobwebs. Hindwood could not rid himself of the -suspicion that they were followed. He glanced back repeatedly, drawing -Santa sharply into doorways in attempt after attempt to trap the -tracker. If a tracker there was, he never revealed himself. At last -Hindwood realized that precautions were profitless. The cessation of -their own footsteps gave ample warning. A pursuer had only to halt when -they halted, to escape detection behind the fog. - -They scarcely dared talk, and then only in brief whispers. It puzzled -him how she could keep her direction. It was like tunneling a passage -through chalk, which crumbled, yielded, and caved in as one went -forward. The whole world dripped sullenly--unseen gutters, unseen trees, -treacherous pavements. And there was always the drifting whiteness, -pricking one's eyes as with little darts. - -She had gone too far and turned back, feeling her way along the wall. -Before a large double-door she paused and knocked. She rapped three -times peculiarly before a grill was slipped back and a question asked. -The answer which she gave appeared to be the countersign. A smaller door -in the doubledoor was opened and they entered. - -The person who had admitted them was a new type to Hindwood: flat -featured, fair-headed, blue-eyed, clad in a loose khaki shirt, which -bulged like a blouse, and in a pair of baggy breeches which were tucked -into high-boots, roomy as pouches. But it was the expression of the man -that was most impressive--his brooding appearance of enormous patience. -Santa spoke rapidly in a language which was neither German nor French. -The man nodded and led the way across a gloomy courtyard, up stairs -rotten with decay, into a stone corridor lined with stout forbidding -doors. - -“Is it a prison?” Hindwood whispered. - -“Little better. It's a barracks inhabited by the brains of outcast -Russia--students, for the most part, male and female, who have escaped -from the Red Terror. Russia has no use for brains at present. Brains are -too dangerous. Wherever the Bolshevist finds them, he blows them out. -Many of these exiles are survivors of Denikin's and Kolchak's armies. -Having tried to save their country with rifles, they're now preparing -themselves to rescue her with knowledge. They're learning to be doctors, -engineers and lawyers, so that they may become the soul of the Russia -of the future. Meanwhile they live anyhow, sleep anywhere and starve -abominably. They're not wanted in Hungary or in any European country. -They're suspected and hounded. The only reason they've been allotted -this mildewed dwelling is in order that they may be watched.” - -The guide had thrown open a door and stood signing to them, trying to -catch their attention. - -It was a grim sight that met their eyes, similar to the one they had -left behind at the hotel only a thousand times more sordid. The windows -were locked and heavily barred. The air was poisonous. The room was -stripped of furnishings. On bare boards innumerable human beings, -without a shred of bedding, sprawled, drugged with sleep, herded -together in indecent proximity. There was scarcely space to walk between -them. They were of both sexes. Here and there a child lay folded in a -parent's arms. The men were of all ages, but for the most part young and -still in the tattered uniforms of their defeated armies. The women were -scarcely distinguishable from the men. Their heads were cropped. They -wore odd garments of mixed masculine and feminine attire, such as could -be purchased for next to nothing at any rag-shop. Some retained the -soldier-garb of the Battalions of Death. As Hindwood gazed across the -pool of mud-colored faces, “Heaven help us, if this is the soul of the -future Russia!” he thought. - -Suddenly his interest shifted. In the corner remotest from the door, -his eye had caught the shining of golden tresses. Their owner's face -was turned away from him; they seemed to weigh her down and were piled -beneath her head in a cushion. On her left lay an aged peasant woman; on -her right a man with a death-white face and a head that was peaked like -a dunce's cap. The guide was already stooping over the man, touching -him with a strange reverence. The man sat up. His green eyes opened. -Hindwood experienced the same sensation of discomfort he had felt, when -he had first seen them peering at him above the edge of the cliff at -Seafold. - -Varensky had risen. With his peculiarly catlike motion, he was picking a -path towards them. He held out his hand. - -“It was brave of you to come.” And then to Santa, “Of you, too. But of -you it was expected.” - -Hindwood bristled like a dog. He was distrustful of romantic attitudes. -“Let's get down to facts. You know as well as I do that it wasn't any -lofty motive that brought me.” - -“No?” The eye-brows arched themselves comically. “Then what?” - -“Your wife's message.” - -“Ah! I understand. She didn't tell me. You see, she thinks I'm going to -get myself killed at last; probably she wants you to help stop me. Not -that I'm of the least use to her--don't think that. But she's the soul -of honor. My death would mean her freedom; because of that she'd do -anything in her power to prevent--” - -Hindwood drew himself erect. “These are matters which it's not decent -for us to discuss.” - -The narrow shoulders flew up into a shrug. “Why on earth not? When -things are so, there can be nothing indecent in being frank about them. -Is it less indecent for you to love my wife than for me to tell that -I know you love her? There'd be no sense in your loving her unless you -both hoped--I won't finish what I was going to say; your feelings are -so sensitive.” He rested his hand not unkindly on Hindwood's arm. “Don't -you realize, my dear fellow, that you're to be congratulated? This -happening which means catastrophe for countless millions, for you and -Anna spells opportunity. Be honest. You would not have risked visiting -me, if you had not realized that.” - -Hindwood sought for spitefulness in Varensky's tones. All he found was -the surge of a quiet happiness. - -“One would think that I wanted you to die!” he exclaimed blankly. - -“Well, don't you? Why shouldn't you?” Varen-sky smiled sadly. “If I -could love Anna or any other woman the way you do---- But no--to me such -affections have been denied. I love people only in crowds, by tens of -thousands and by nations; in my heart there's no room for more human -passions. I'm God's instrument; the hour of my testing is at hand. These -mildewed walls inclose my Gethsemane.” - -He flung his arms apart grotesquely; they formed with his body the shape -of a cross. The fire of fanaticism blazed in his eyes. “To-morrow I -shall be crucified.” He drew a shuddering breath. - -“A born actor!” was Hindwood's silent comment--“An egoist who craves the -lime-light.” - -And yet, to his chagrin, he found himself impressed. He was so deeply -stirred that he dared not trust himself to speak for a moment; when he -did, it was with calculated coldness. - -“You think only of yourself. It's not you alone; even those of us who -make no claim to be God's instruments, stand more than a sporting -chance of being crucified, as you call it. There are Santa and Anna, for -instance; there's the collection of wretched down-and-outs gathered in -this building; there are the scarecrows I saw in the death train; there -are all the teeming swarms of human lice crawling westward along a -thousand roads. In the presence of an agony so widespread, I can't -muster a tear for your individual tragedy. It's no time for theatrics.” - -For an instant Varensky's gaunt face quivered. Making an effort, with an -air of mocking courtliness he mastered his injured pride. - -“I was mistaken and I ask your pardon. We all have our plans to make -ahead. I supposed you were here to ascertain approximately the hour at -which I proposed to---- Shall we say, depart?” - -“You were badly mistaken,” Hindwood cut in contemptuously. “I'm here -to find out if there's any possible way in which we can save the -situation.” - -“We!” - -Varensky stared. He became rigid as though he were carved from marble. -“We!” he repeated haughtily. - -While Hindwood was searching for a clue to his amazement, his next words -supplied it. - -“I thought it was I who was to save the world.” - -“Splendid! You have a plan?” - -Varensky's eyes filmed over. “Yes. But if I were to tell you, you -wouldn't understand.” Coming out of the clouds, he placed his hand -tolerantly on Hind-wood's shoulder. “Splendid, you said. So you want me -to have a plan? Let's sit down and talk more quietly. These people are -tired--in sleep they forget. So you also have ambitions to become a -saviour?” - -It was like the night in the hut all over again, when they had talked of -Santa's redemption. There he sat, this discredited dictator, half-saint, -half-charlatan, his knees drawn sharply up to his chin, his white face -peering over them. The stale air sighed with the breathing of sleepers. -A child whimpered and was hugged closer to the breast. In the far corner -lay the desired woman. Gazing eagerly into both their eyes was the -oriental countenance of the other woman, for whom neither of them cared. - -“A saviour! No. I have no ambitions in that direction. But I have a -scheme,” Hindwood admitted. - -“What is it?” - -“Bread. I came to sell bread for trade-concessions. In Austria I found -the Government unwilling to purchase. This morning, when I consult with -Hungarian officials, I may be met with the same refusal. What's the -game? Why should men in control of hungry nations refuse my help? -For six months they've been urging me to come to them. Something's -happened--the signs of it are everywhere. Trains running westward are -packed with women. The last sight we had of Vienna was a street-riot and -people brutally shot down. And again at the frontier there were piles of -dead--not only men: women and children who had been butchered to prevent -them from escaping. Budapest's under military law. By some error, Santa -and I on arrival were mistaken for conspirators in an army plot. We're -billeted at what appears to be its headquarters--a place jammed with -carousing officers of supposedly disbanded regiments. What's in the air? -What is this dreadful news which some people rejoice over, from which -others flee in panic, but which no one dares to mention? If you can tell -me, I shall know how to act.” - -“If I can tell you--! Suppose I were to tell you the worst, how would -you act then?” - -“That depends. I'm no more unselfish than anybody else. At a pinch I -could forget my own interests and ruin myself for the public welfare. -Here's how I stand. I have enough food at my command to keep Europe for -several weeks from actual starvation. If the crisis is genuine, that -ought to give time for the conscience of the civilized world to be -aroused. But even if the world's conscience should prove too sluggish, I -still have a personal fortune which would keep hunger at bay for -several months. I'm no philanthropist--I should make myself penniless -reluctantly. I'm in no sense your rival for the honors of Calvary. My -mission in Europe is to sell at a profit. So if you can do better----” - -“What you're telling me,” Varensky interrupted, “is that, if by personal -sacrifice you could avert a world disaster, you'd be willing to give -something for nothing.” - -“Precisely. But I must first be convinced that the circumstances warrant -it.” - -“There's one point you've overlooked.” Varen-sky's green eyes narrowed. -“Up to the moment you entered this room, I was fully persuaded that I -was the man on whom the privilege of paying the price must fall. I'd -coveted the privilege. All my life I'd worked for it. If you rob me of -it, have you reckoned the cost?” - -“In money?” - -“In something more valuable. If I live, you can never be Anna's -husband.” - -Hindwood hated the man for his subtlety. He was being deliberately -tempted. He threw a glance toward the sleeping woman in the corner whose -fate, as well as his own, he was deciding. Close to him, drawing nearer, -he saw the pleading eyes of Santa. He gave his answer. - -“I may be the man who was born for this moment. Play fair by me; tell -me what's happened.” Varensky rocked himself slowly back and forth. -Suddenly he came to rest. - -“I'm the thing that's happened. I'm responsible for everything. I've -never learnt to let bad alone; in trying to make things better, I make -them worse. It was my hand that shot down the crowd at Vienna. It was -I who butchered the women and children at the frontier. I'm the force -which drives behind the human lice who crawl westward along a thousand -roads. You think me mad; but listen. Every freedom gained entails a new -bondage. I helped to free Russia from the Czar; in so doing, I prepared -the way for Bolshevism. I've fought Bolshevism with my dreams, my -happiness, with everything I possess. Bolshevism is overthrown. What -have I produced? Chaos.” - -“Overthrown! Then that's the meaning of it.” Santa had half risen. - -Varensky turned his death-white face on her, chilling her enthusiasm. -“It's collapsed like a pack of cards. With it have vanished the last -of the restraints. Every Russian's his own master now to choose his own -ditch in which to perish. We've destroyed a vision that turned out to -be a nightmare, but we've set up nothing in its stead. We, who are -idealists, have worked the final disillusion. We've made two hundred -millions hopeless. They're fleeing from the emptiness. The contagion of -their despair is spreading. You saw its results in Vienna. It runs -ahead of them; they're already on the march. They've broken into Poland. -They're drawing nearer. How to stop them----?” - -Hindwood's lips had squared themselves. “I can stop them. My food-trains -will be here by tomorrow. What hungry men need is not political -programs, but bread.” Then he added thoughtfully, “I can stop them, if -I'm not prevented. There's some one who's playing a different game; he's -some one who wants the world to starve. That's what Austria's refusal -meant; that's the meaning of these secret signs of rejoicing. He's -bigger than any nation. Who is he?” - -Varensky shook his head. “There was a man.” He looked knowingly at -Santa. “He was drowned.” - -Hindwood jumped to his feet as though there was no time to be lost. “I'm -going to find out. I have an appointment with the Governor of Hungary. -If he rejects my offer, I shall demand----” - -“And if he refuses----?” - -“I shall play my winning-card. Don't ask me what it is. But if I play -it, I shall need your help. You've talked of crucifixion: I may provide -you with the chance. How many of these----?” He pointed to the sleeping -outcasts. - -Varensky's eyes were shining. “I've four hundred: three hundred veterans -of Denikin's and Kolchak's armies and a hundred girl-soldiers of the -Battalions of Death.” - -“Have them warned.” - -As he turned on his heel, he saw that Anna had wakened. She cried out -after him. He dared not face her. Leaping down the stairs, he went at a -run across the courtyard. It was only when the door into the street had -closed behind him, that he realized that Santa was panting at his elbow. - - -VI - - -Mists were clearing. The sun had emerged fiery above a mountain-range -of clouds. As they hurried in search of their hotel, they caught -glimpses of the Danube, spanned by many bridges, and on the further bank -the palace-crowned heights of Buda. The ancient city looked imperially -beautiful. There was a touch of the East about it, a lavishness and -rose-tinted whiteness. Its quays and pavements shone wet, as though -they had been daubed with lacquer. It seemed incredible that behind its -gold-splashed walls the ghosts of hunger gathered. - -During their absence from the Ritz, a transformation had been effected. -All signs of disorder had been banished. In place of the untimely -Bacchanalians, stiff-bosomed waiters stood guard over neat tables with -a solicitous air which was bewilderingly normal. Even the breakfast menu -gave the lie to starvation. - -They took their seats in silence, eating without interest whatever was -set before them. Hindwood's sensations were those of a man who has given -way to his emotions at a theatre. It was as though the lights had -gone up, shaming him in public. There had been nothing to warrant his -surrender to sentiment. He totaled up the accumulated incentives: he -had witnessed a street-riot, people slain at the frontier, the hideous -contrast between the death train and dancing--and last of all Varensky. -But these things in themselves constituted no argument; the cause that -lay behind them was still conjectural. As for Varensky, whatever he had -said was unreliable. His wish was parent to his thought. He was a man -born to stir up turbulences, which he considered it his mission to -pacify. He was dangerous as a forest-fire: one spark of his wild -idealism made the whole world lurid. In the breath of adversity he -became a sheet of flame, destructive and self-destroying. His goal was -the vanishing-point, in the No Man's Land between desire and things -attainable. - -Hindwood writhed at remembering the ease with which his judgment had -been unseated. In his weakness he had given a promise, which it would -be folly to fulfill and dishonorable to withdraw. He glanced across at -Santa. How was she taking this return to normality? - -She met his eyes with passionate adoration. “It was god-like of you.” - -He pretended ignorance. “What?” - -“Your self-denial. You've given up everything--Anna, ambition, -money--all the things you worship.” - -He assumed a judicial expression. “Perhaps not. It mayn't be necessary.” - -“But it will.” - -“If it is,” he said, “I shall stick to my contract. But I've reason to -believe we've exaggerated.” - -“Would to God we had!” - -Her fervor disturbed him. He leaned across the table. “You don't mean -to tell me you accept this bogey story about starving millions marching? -There's a sense of security this morning. Surely you must have felt it?” - -She shook her head. “We've had a meal--that's all. Within a mile from -here I could show you a hospital where five hundred babies sit shivering -like monkeys. They're wrapped in paper; they've never known what it was -not to be hungry from the day they were born. I could take you to the -workmen's quarter, where naked men and women would squirm at your -feet like dogs; they're too weak to walk. I could lead you past the -bread-lines, already forming----” - -He stayed her by covering her hand. “I'm not denying it. When countries -make wars they have to pay penalties.” - -The storm that was brewing betrayed itself in her eyes. “What are you -denying?” - -“Don't let's make a scene,” he urged. “My promise holds if I find that -circumstances warrant it. In a little while I'm seeing the Governor of -Hungary; after that I'll be sure. While I'm gone, I have one request to -make of you: keep your room and talk to nobody.” - -She rose from the table in suppressed defiance. - -“Why?” - -“For your own safety. It was lucky I slept across your threshold last -night. Your door was tried.” - -Her smile accused him. “By whom?” - -“If I'm not mistaken, by the man who afterwards tracked us through the -fog.” - -She turned away as though she were finished with him. When she found -that he was following, she delivered a parting shot. “You told me this -to frighten me. Did you think you could make me your accomplice in -cowardice?” - - -VII - - -So these were the rewards of knight-errantry! In his anger he was -glad to be rid of her. He was free at last. She'd been nothing but an -embarrassment. If she were to attempt a reconciliation, he would turn -his back on her. It wasn't likely that he'd put his neck into the same -noose twice. - -Little by little from resenting her, he began to suspect her. Had she -been using him as a cat's-paw in a deeper game? Every man with whom she -had ever associated, she had destroyed; could she be expected, to show -more mercy to a man by whom she had been rejected? Her husband's words -came back: “When she has added you to her list of victims, if she gives -you time before she kills you, remember that I warned you.” - -Everything to do with her became distorted when interpreted in the light -of treachery. The pathos of her unrequited affection had been a mask; -her humanitarianism had been a cloak for her designs. When he retraced -his relations with her, it seemed glaringly probable that from the start -she had been the agent of his financial rivals, placed by them on board -the _Ryndam_ with the definite intention of accomplishing his ruin. -Except for her final error in tactics, she would have attained her -object. He had escaped by the narrowest of margins. - -But the other people who had come upon the scene, where did they stand? -Were they her puppets, jumping whichever way she pulled the wires, -or were they her active co-conspirators? Varensky and the Little -Grandmother were undoubtedly her puppets; she employed their enthusiasms -to serve her purposes. Anna was her victim--a woman wronged and cheated, -infinitely dear to him and tragic. It was Captain Lajos who troubled -him. The more he thought about him, the more certain he became that the -Captain and Santa were hand in glove. The farce which they had enacted -on the train had been prearranged with a view to intimidating him. His -most unnerving information, concerning the menace of starving millions, -had come from the Captain. And there was a further fact, which had been -disquieting him all morning: it was Captain Lajos who had tried Santa's -door last night. - -What did they think to gain by their plotting? Having pondered the -conundrum, he decided that their object was to thwart his schemes for -grasping world-power, and that the means they had chosen were to compel -him to give for nothing the hoards of food which he had intended that -Europe should buy. - -Well aware that this theory was far from covering all the facts, he was -still feeling his way through a quagmire of surmise, when a visitor was -announced. In the foyer he found an officer, resplendently uniformed, -waiting to escort him to his audience at the Royal Palace. He -was whizzed away in a handsome car. As he traveled, his companion -entertained him with anecdotes, grimly humorous, of Bela Kun's reign of -terror. - -“Experiments of that sort soon disprove themselves,” he said cheerfully. -“We live through them and go on again.” - -“And your country is going on again?” Hindwood inquired. - -“Emphatically. Signs of revival are already apparent.” - -“But what about Russia? How's revival possible without security?” - -The officer laughed carelessly. “I catch your meaning; you've heard this -latest about Bolshevism's downfall. In our part of the world we pay -no heed to rumors; they're inventions of political opportunists or of -gamblers in the international exchange. Even if this latest is true, -it's the best thing that could have happened.” - -Hindwood twisted in his seat that he might lose nothing of his -companion's expression. “The best thing in the long run--that's granted. -But meanwhile, because of the breakdown in organization, over a hundred -million Russians are likely to die.” - -Again the officer laughed, stretching his long legs. “The fittest will -survive. One has to die somehow. The last war was fought because the -world was too crowded. Famine's nature's cure for overpopulation.” - -The remark sounded singularly ill-timed, coming from a man whose country -was also starving. Hindwood frowned. “A heartless cure and, thank -goodness, not the only one.” - -“Not more heartless than civilized society's, which encourages armed -nations to strangle each other with every filthy invention of science. -When you forbid Nature to correct matters in her own way, sooner or -later you find yourself with a war on your hands. The matter's very -simple: so many mouths to fill and so many rations. When the mouths are -in excess of the rations, some one has to go short. The people who are -selected to go short can either drop in their tracks or fight. If they -fight and win, the result's the same--some one else has to go without. -The adjustment's automatic.” - -“The thought of death,” Hindwood suggested quietly, “especially of other -people's death, doesn't seem to trouble you.” - -“That's natural. Killing and dying are my trade.” - -Brutal as was the point of view, after Santa's sentimental fallacies, -there was something honest and direct about these bald assertions. - -Hindwood spoke again. “What applies to Russia, applies equally to -Hungary. My errand at the Palace is to offer sufficient food to keep -your country alive. According to your theory, I'm interfering with -Nature's laws. I'm doing something economically immoral. I ought to -leave you to your fate.” - -To his amazement he was met with a polite concurrence. “That's how I -regard it.” - -It was impossible to credit the man's sincerity. Hindwood glanced aside, -irritated and shocked. He was seeking a motive for such disinterested -frankness. There was nothing more to say. - -He had been so much absorbed in the conversation that he had not noticed -their direction. They were skimming high above the Danube, crossing a -bridge that spanned the sunlit gulf in giant strides. Behind lay Pest, -modern as a second Paris; in front lay Buda, ancient and scarcely -Christian, still bearing the marks of its Turkish occupation. On -reaching the further bank, the ascent to the Palace begun to climb. - -It was just as they were reaching the top that Hindwood was for a second -time startled by the ghost of memory. Peering down on him from the -ramparts, with its head between its paws, was a snow-white Russian -wolf-hound. The next moment they had passed beneath an arch, between -saluting sentries, and had halted in the Palace-yard. - - -VIII - - -The Yard was an immobile sea of faces. As far as eye could reach, -soldiers were drawn up in close formation. It was clear that this was -no ceremonial parade. The men were in full marching order; their -field-kitchens were smoking in the background. They had the look of -troops equipped for action, expecting to take the offensive at any -moment. This much he saw as he was hurried into the Palace, before the -great doors clanged behind him. - -He found himself on the threshold of a magnificence that he had not -imagined existed. Everywhere his eyes rested, they encountered riches -accumulated through the centuries. Pictures and tapestries gazed down on -him from the walls, chronicling the glory of the bygone Hapsburgs. Suits -of mail, gold-inlaid and gem-studded, stood like knights of old, leaning -on their swords. He followed his escort up a marble staircase, along -endless corridors, from which doors opened into silent apartments, -giving yet fresh vistas of royal splendors. - -At last, in the far distance, the passage was blocked by a gigantic -figure that might have escaped from Grand Opera; it stood so stiff -and motionless that he mistook it for a wax-work. It was garbed as a -halberdier, in parti-colored hose and shining armor. Only when the eyes -moved did he realize that he was gazing at one of the Palace-guards. -When the password had been given, they were allowed to slip behind -a curtain. In the ante-room he was told to wait. His escort vanished -through the inner-doors. A moment later the doors reopened and his -escort beckoned. - -He was aware of a blaze of light, lofty walls, tall windows, a -tapestried room ornately furnished and a treacherously polished expanse -of floor. A man was rising from behind an ormolu table. He was a man -utterly simple and modern--the last man one would have expected to find -in the pomp of medieval surroundings. His face was clean-shaven, bluff -and wind-tanned. In his navy-blue suit he looked more like a yachtsman -than the Governor of a State. - -He was approaching with his hand outstretched. “I couldn't do less than -receive you,” he was saying. - -The words, though spoken pleasantly, sounded like a dismissal. - -“Perhaps your Excellency has forgotten the purpose of my errand?” - -“Not in the least. Let's sit down; we can talk more informally. The -trouble is that you've come too late. Crises as acute as ours have a -knack of settling themselves.” - -Hindwood accepted a cigarette that was proffered. He took his time -while he lit it. “Your solution is mustering in the Palace-yard. My -food-supplies are no longer needed. Is that what you intend me to -understand?” - -“Exactly.” - -“Your Excellency spoke just now of crises settling themselves. Did you -mean that so many of your countrymen have died that at last there's -sufficient food to go round?” - -“Far from it. Our shortage is greater than ever.” - -“I judged as much.” Hindwood tapped his ash casually. “I only arrived -last night, but in the time I've been in Budapest I've seen the -death-train, the bread-lines, the utter destitution. I've reason to -believe that Bolshevism has collapsed and that millions of outcast -Russians are marching. They're moving westward.” - -He paused, himself skeptical of the preposterous assertion he was about -to make. Then he remembered the words he had learnt from Captain Lajos -and repeated them like a lesson. - -“They're sweeping westward like a pestilence. They're loping like gaunt -wolves. They're drawing nearer, like Death swinging his scythe. Poland -will go down before them first. Its famished people will join them. Your -turn will come next. The march will never halt till the empty bellies -have been filled. They can't be filled till the whole of Europe has -been swamped by revolution, unless----” He paused again, waiting for -encouragement. When the steady gray eyes still regarded him attentively, -he continued, “Unless I fill them.” - -“Or unless,” said his Excellency like a man commenting on the weather, -“I destroy them.” - -There was a deep quiet. So Varensky had been a true prophet. It was the -end of the world they were discussing--the end of truth, justice, mercy, -everything that was kind. - -Across the silence a bugle-call spurted like a stream of blood. - -“You see my position?” his Excellency resumed reasonably. “If I buy from -you, I prolong the agony; worse still, I run my country further into -debt. If I give the call to arms, many of us will die; but it's better -to die fighting than from hunger. Besides, in the topsy-turvydom of war, -who knows, we may find ourselves arrayed on the winning side.” Hindwood -was too stunned to think quickly. He was still refusing to believe the -worst. “I miss your point. Would your Excellency mind explaining?” - -“My point's simple enough. The condition of Hungary and of the whole of -Central Europe is due to two causes: the first that we made a world-war; -the second that we lost it. The victors had a right to exact a penalty, -but look at what they've done. We were exhausted; nevertheless, if -they'd told us what we owed them, we'd have paid them. Instead of -that, they cloaked revenge with idealism. They constituted themselves -evangelists, fore-ordained to reform us. With their gospel of -self-determination, they gave every racial hostility within our borders -a voice. They carved us up into bickering factions, which they called -nations, and bestowed on them the power to make themselves annoying -behind new frontiers. They dipped their hands into our national -resources and made gifts to their favorites. Transylvania was our -granary; it went to Rumania. Bohemia was our coal-supply; the Czechs -have it, Hungary is no longer self-supporting. We have our factories, -but no fuel to run them; our skilled workmen, but no means of employing -them. On every side we're fenced in by mushroom democracies drawing -sustenance from what was once our body. The wrong they have done us -is the motive of their hate. We European countries fall into three -categories: the robbers, the receivers of stolen goods and the pillaged. -There's no intercourse between us; confidence is at an end. Our currency -has become worthless as the paper on which it's printed. There's no flow -of trade. We each have too much of one commodity and none whatsoever of -others--too many factories here, too much wheat there, too much coal in -another place. We're rival storekeepers, overstocked in certain lines, -who refuse to take down our shutters. If we could forget our quarrels -and club together, we'd have all the means of life. We deserve our -fate, you'll say. But no--it was the Allies' surgeons who carved us into -impotence and on top of that imposed indemnities. We have nothing to -eat, so we prefer to fight.” - -“But what do you gain by it?” - -His Excellency smiled. “Everything or nothing. We can't be worse off. -The Russian menace may prove to be our salvation. The Red Terror has -vanished; the Famine Terror has taken its place. If the starving hordes -pouring westwards aren't halted, civilization will be blotted out by -savagery. And who's to halt them? Not the Allies. Their common people -are rebellious; they know that in the last war they were as much cheated -and exploited as any of the enemy whom they routed. And not their -politicians and profiteers; they're too bloated with their spoils. It's -the story of Rome repeating itself. The obesity which follows victory -has conquered the conquerors. Their fighting days are ended; they'll -have to hire mercenaries. The only mercenaries available are the nations -they have trampled. Hungary holds herself for hire at a price.” - -“What price?” - -“The restoration of her old frontiers.” - -Hindwood spoke eagerly. “No one shall die. We've had enough of dying. I -have a better solution--bread. My food-trains should be arriving tonight -or to-morrow. I wired for them before I left Vienna. I'll build a wall -of bread from the Black Sea to the Baltic.” - -“And who'll pay you?” - -“No one.” - -The answer had been totally unexpected. His Excellency glanced sharply -across his shoulder as though seeking advice. Hindwood followed his -direction and saw to his amazement that the tapestry, hanging behind the -ormolu table, was agitated. Throughout the interview an unseen audience -had been present. His Excellency turned back. - -“You shall neither give nor sell. I may admire your humanity, but in -Hungary I forbid you to build what you so picturesquely call your wall -of bread. Austria, as I know, has already refused you; in Poland you -will receive the same answer. Things have advanced too far for there -to be any harm in telling you; moreover, I owe it to you to be frank. -I represent a class which the democracy of the Allies has totally -disinherited--the class of the landed gentry and the old nobility. -However matters might improve in our respective countries, our lot would -be in no way benefited. The Peace of the Allies uprooted aristocracy -and planted in its stead a raw Republicanism. The estates of men like -myself, whether Austrian, Polish, Russian or Hungarian, have been in -our families for centuries. They were grants from Kings for loyalty -and services. Now that our Kings have been sent into exile, our entire -status is in jeopardy. Our rank and privileges have become a jest. -To-morrow or the next day, where it has not happened already, we shall -join our Kings in banishment; our wealth will be confiscated. The excuse -of a new war is the chance of European Monarchists. Banded together, we -may snatch back our authority and set up the thrones which the Allies -have toppled. So long as the people starve, they will follow us. -Monarchy is the symbol of their lost contentment; they'll fight for -it if we make its restoration their battle-cry. But if once we were to -allow you to give them bread----” - -Hindwood sprang to his feet. The time had come to play his winning-card. -“They would lay down their arms,” he cried triumphantly. “They shall lay -them down. By to-morrow they shall be fed.” - -Again the tapestry rustled. For a moment it seemed that some one was -about to disclose himself. Then all grew quiet. - -“I have given you your answer,” said his Excellency. - -Hindwood laughed. “And I can force your hand. I shall appeal to the -people over your head.” - -Without further ceremony, he swung round on his heel and departed. - -On regaining the hotel he went in search of Santa. She was not there. -He betook himself to her room to await her coming. One hour, two hours -slipped by. He began to be anxious. In the appearance of the room there -was nothing to distress him; all her belongings were intact. When he -made inquiries of the hotel staff, they professed entire ignorance of -her whereabouts. - -Apart from the concern he felt for her safety, she was utterly essential -to his plans. It was necessary that he should get in touch with -Varensky; without Varensky and his four hundred veterans he was -helpless. When his food-trains arrived, he would need them. He made -repeated efforts to rediscover the mildewed barracks; every time he -missed his direction. For fear of spies, he did not dare to ask; he -remembered Santa's warning, that to be seen with Varensky meant death. -Day faded. Darkness fell. She had not returned. - -It was nearing midnight when word reached him that the first of his -trains was in the freight-yard. It had been given the right of way from -Holland and had been rushed straight through under an armed guard. He -was powerless to turn the information to account. Wearied with anxiety, -he had begun to prepare for bed, when, without knocking, the door was -burst open. Captain Lajos entered. His face was haggard. He was fierce -and breathless. - -“You've heard?” - -“I've heard nothing.” - -“She's been captured.” - -“By whom?” - -“Prince Rogovich.” - -Hindwood clapped his hand to his forehead. Either he or this man was -mad. - -“It's impossible. Rogovich is dead.” - -“And I tell you he's at the Palace. He was there behind the tapestry -this morning. She's with him now and he's torturing her.” - -“Then why are you here, if you care for her so much?” - -“That you may help me rescue her.” - - - - -CHAPTER THE EIGHTH--THE VANISHING POINT - - -I - - -SPURRED into haste by the Captain's air of calamity. Hindwood had -commenced to dress. During the few minutes that it took him to hurry -into his clothes he thought furiously: with the result that by the time -he was clad for departure, he seated himself obstinately on the edge -of the bed. Meanwhile, in the belief that he was being followed, the -Captain had led the way into the passage. He had now returned and stood -filling the doorway, a turbulent figure in his gorgeous uniform of the -Royal Hussars. - -“There's no time to lose.” he rapped out. - -Hindwood eyed him calmly. “If you were sent to execute me, you can do it -here as conveniently as anywhere else.” - -The sheer amazement which greeted this accusation seemed to disprove its -accuracy. The Captain answered scornfully: - -“What devil of contrariness has put that thought into your head? If my -errand were known, it would be I who would be executed. She's in love -with you--that's why I sought you. It's the fact that you're my rival in -her affections that makes you the one man in Budapest whom I can trust. -There'll be bloodshed----” - -“Go slower,” Hindwood interrupted. “Put yourself in my place. You know -too much--far more than seems healthy. You know that this morning when I -was with the Governor, there was an unseen listener behind the tapestry. -You assert, that he was a man whom all the world believes to be dead. If -you'll think back to our journey from Calais, you'll remember that -the reason for his having been murdered formed your chief topic of -conversation. Seeing that you know so much, you're probably aware that -my interview with the Governor ended in a threat. To make that threat -effective, the cooperation of the woman whom you first supposed to be -my wife and afterwards discovered to be my secretary is absolutely -necessary. On my return from the Palace she had vanished. Here again, -you pretend to know more than I do; at close on midnight you come -bursting into my room, demanding that I accompany you to her rescue.” - -The Captain stared dully. “Every second counts. What is it that you wish -me to tell?” - -“Why you've hung on my trail from Calais until now.” - -“Eh!” His expression became embarrassed; then he raised his head with a -fearless gesture. “I see what you're driving at. I acknowledge that my -movements are open to misinterpretation. But I didn't follow you; it -was she whom I followed. As I told you in our first conversation, I was -returning from England where I'd been sent by my Government to intercept -Prince Rogovich with important despatches. The moment I clapped my -eyes on your traveling companion, I recognized in her a startling -resemblance; it was to a woman I had adored. She was far beyond me--the -mistress of archdukes and for a brief while of an emperor. The nearest -I ever came to touching her was when I was swept by her train at Court -functions.” He paused dramatically. “During the war she was shot by the -enemies of my country. Infamous things were said of her. If they were -true, they would make no difference to my love. No difference, do you -understand?” Again he paused. “What else?” - -Hindwood narrowed his eyes. “Each time I've met you, you've harped on -the same theme--Prince Rogovich. Up to now I've not thought it necessary -to tell you: I knew this Prince Rogovich. Besides myself, there was -probably only one other person who spoke with him before his end. What -makes you so certain that it was a man, presumed to have been drowned -in the English Channel, who spied on me this morning from behind the -tapestry?” - -“I was beside him. I'm his bodyguard--if you like, his secretary. I've -just come from him. Can you have stronger proof than that?” Suddenly -the Captain's patience broke down. “How many more questions? God knows -what's happening.” - -Hindwood had risen. “There are several. Why did he disappear?” - -“He has not said.” - -“What makes you require my help to rescue her?” - -“He may kill me. It's not likely he'll kill both of us.” - -“What's his motive?” Hindwood spoke more slowly. All his suspicion was -emphasized in his words. “What's his motive for kidnaping this woman who -resembles----” - -“How can I tell?” The Captain was desperate. “We talk and talk while -time passes. I suppose his interest is the same in this woman as in all -women. Perhaps he was the discarded lover of that other woman, and, like -myself, has noticed the resemblance.” - -Hindwood picked up his hat. “I'm coming.” - -“Are you armed?” - -“Not in your sense. I shall fight with a different sort of weapon.” - - -II - - -At the door a closed vehicle was standing. To Hindwood it seemed the -one that had flashed by him on the previous evening. He glanced between -the wheels; there was no Russian wolf-hound. Even before he was seated, -the lash had been laid across the horses' backs. The next moment they -were galloping down the gloomy street. Leaning from the window, the -Captain was urging the coachman to drive faster. - -When the pace had settled to a rapid trot, Hind-wood broke the silence. - -“You're an Hungarian officer; Prince Rogovich is a Polish statesman. -You tell me you're his secretary. What's a Polish statesman doing in the -Royal Palace, directing Hungary's affairs?” - -“It isn't Hungary's affairs that he's directing; it's the campaign -against Democracy. The present crisis has made Budapest the jumping-off -point for the offensive which the Monarchists have been waiting to -launch. The Monarchists are men of every country, who have sunk their -nationalities and made a common cause.” - -“And you--are you a Monarchist?” - -His reply came muffled. “I was. To-night I'm a traitor.” - -The horses, thrown sharply back on their haunches, swerved toward the -pavement; the carriage jerked to a halt. Almost brushing the wheels in -the narrow street, a column of soldiers shuffled past. Their rifles -were slung at all angles. Their shoulders were bowed beneath their -heavy packs. They crawled weakly, more like stragglers retreating than -storm-troops advancing. Even in the darkness their bones showed pointed -and their faces lean with famine. - -“Reservists,” the Captain explained shortly. “Mobilization has begun.” - -Hindwood strained through the gloom, touching his arm excitedly. -“Starving men being sent to kill men who are more starving. You've -spoken of a woman you adored--a woman who was shot for hideous -treacheries. Her treacheries were committed to prevent just such crimes -as that. Don't interrupt me--not yet. You've expected me to believe an -impossible story: that a man can return from the dead. If I were to tell -you an equally improbable story, what difference would it make to your -love? If I were to tell you that the resemblance was not mistaken -and that the woman at the Palace is the same as she who was reported -executed in the woods of Vincennes?” - -The last of the column had slouched into the blackness. The horses leapt -forward impatiently. - -The question was repeated. “What difference?” - -The Captain's voice burst from him. “God forgive me--none.” - -Neither of them dared to trust the other. Their respite was growing -shorter. They had crossed the bridge above the Danube. In a moment the -ascent to the Palace would commence. It was Hindwood who decided on -boldness. If he were walking into an ambush, he could not make matters -worse. - -He said, “Weapons will be useless. Only to kill the Prince won't save -her. If we manage to escape from the Palace, the streets are full of -armed men. We should only rescue her to die with her. I have a plan. -Do you know the barracks of the Russian refugees? If I were to write a -note, would you guarantee to have it delivered?” - -By the light of matches held by the Captain, he scrawled rapidly. The -last sentence read, “If you have not heard from me again by 2 A. M., -consider that the worst has happened and carry out these instructions.” - He addressed the note to, “_The Husband of Anna_.” - -“Have it entrusted to a man who cannot read English.” The Captain -extinguished the final match. - -“I shall send it by the driver of this carriage.” - - -III - - -They had alighted some distance short of the gateway where the sentries -would be on guard. The message for Varensky had been handed over. The -horses had been wheeled about; save for their trotting growing fainter -down the slope, the night was without a sound. The moon shone fitfully. -Stars were obscured. The city out of which they had climbed lay -pulseless in an unillumined pit of blackness. The Palace, piled high -above them, loomed sepulchral. - -The Captain groped his way beneath the wall of the ramparts, searching -for something which at last he found. It pushed inwards at his touch. -The door closed behind them. - -In the intenser darkness Hindwood stretched out his hands. They -encountered the rough surface of clammy masonry. He was in some sort of -a tunnel. The floor sloped gradually upwards. The atmosphere smelt dank. -He spoke. Getting no answer, he held his breath. Going away from him he -heard the stealthy hurrying of the Captain's footfall. Rather than be -left, perhaps to be forgotten, he started forward at a blundering run. -He came to steps. He was prepared to be attacked. It might be here that -he would be hurled back. He climbed them almost on all fours, steadying -himself with his hands. It seemed to him that he had been ascending for -hours, when he heard footsteps returning. A match was struck; he saw the -Captain staring down at him. - -“We're in time.” The match went out. - -“Catch hold of me. Tread softly.” - -They passed through another door. The air was growing warmer. It was -evident that they were traversing a secret passage which wound within -the Palace walls. At a turn they heard a muttering of voices. The -Captain whispered, “Do nothing till I give the word.” - -They approached more cautiously to where a needle of light stabbed the -darkness. Hindwood caught the fragrance of tobacco smoke. As he stooped -to the spy-hole, a purring voice commenced speaking almost at his elbow, -“My dear lady, you're mine--a fact which you don't seem to realize. I -have only to press this button, which summons my attendants; I can snuff -out your life with as little effort as I flick this ash.” - -He found himself peering into a room, furnished with oriental -lavishness. He had a confused glimpse of beaten brass-work, shaded -lamps, low tables, cushions piled about in place of chairs. It was a -blaze of color. At the far end was a gilded throne and bound to it was -Santa. Her hands were tightly corded. Her ankles were lashed so that she -could not stir. Her face was pale as ivory. Only her eyes seemed alive; -they flashed indomitably. Pacing up and down, never shifting his gaze -from hers, was the black-bearded man who had disappeared from the -_Ryndam_. - -She spoke defiantly. “Summon your attendants. Do you think I fear -death?” - -“I know you don't, dear lady. That's why I've invented a more subtle -revenge. If I were an ordinary man, I should detest the very sight of -you; whereas, so magnanimous am I, that your attempt to murder me -has added a novel piquancy to your fascination. I have been too much -loved--too spontaneously, too adoringly. You afford me a contrast. I -intend to keep you caged like a lioness. The hatred in your eyes will -spur my affection. Always, even when I caress you, I shall have to be -on my guard. Our courtship will be a perpetual adventure. The goal of -desire will be forever out of grasp, yet forever within handstretch.” - -He stroked his black beard thoughtfully. “With you I shall never know -satiety. This continual hoping will keep me young. You, my dear, will -be my secret source of romance. Every day I shall take you down, as one -takes down a volume, and turn your latest pages which I alone may scan.” - -She strained at her bonds. “It will be no romance.” - -He smiled with terrifying quietness. - -“Your value to me,” he continued in his purring voice, “is that you've -cost me so much. Ugh! Every time I look at you I remember how it felt -when I sank and sank. When I rose above the waves, I saw your lights, -streaking like a golden snake into the blackness. I struck out after you -hopelessly. I shouted. Then I found myself alone, with no one to -take pity on me and not one chance in a million of being rescued. The -millionth chance arrived.” He stooped at her feet, kissing her tortured -hands. “And here we are met, under these auspicious circumstances, -carrying on this pleasant conversation. What were you doing while I -was drowning? Making love beneath the stars to your infatuated -American--leaning on his arm, perhaps, warmly wrapped in your sables? -And I was so cold! Did you give me a thought, I wonder?” - -She stared past him like a woman frozen. “Let me know the worst.” - -Tapping her cheek with pretended kindness, he resumed his pacing. - -“Why the worst? Is that flattering, when I've spoken of our courtship? -We're well matched in wickedness, if in nothing else. You're wanted for -the scaffold, whereas I should have been hung long ago if I'd received -my deserts. I'd be interested to know what you'd do, if you were in my -place. How much mercy would you show me? You must own that merely to -kill a person who has tried to drown you is too brief a punishment. The -punishment I've planned for you is one that'll make you pray every hour -for extinction. For a woman who has dispensed annihilation so lavishly -I can think of nothing more just than that, when her own life has become -intolerable, she should be refused the boon of death.” - -She spoke humbly. “There's nothing too bad that you can do to me. But -I'm not the woman who tried to murder you. I'm changed. I've learnt -something. I learnt it from a man.” - -He bowed towards her mockingly. “Your American?” - -“My American, who can never be mine. I've learnt that even when we don't -acknowledge Him, there's a God in the world who acts through us. It was -He who saved me from the woods of Vincennes. It was He who prevented you -from drowning. He had some purpose--a divine moment for which He waited. -That purpose has yet to be accomplished. Who are you or I----?” - -“I can tell you who you are,” he snapped: “a dancing-woman, with a price -upon your head. As for myself,” his pale face flooded with a strangely -Satanic beauty, “it would puzzle the wisest man to say who I am. -To-night I am Prince Rogovich; tomorrow I may be Emperor. My puppets are -mustering. By dawn they'll be marching. They're hungry; victory to them -means bread.” - -“But if one were to feed them--?” - -“Your American again!” He gazed down on her, showing his white teeth -and laughing. “What faith you have in the man! If your American is God's -unaccomplished purpose, then God and all His angels are thwarted. The -messenger I have sent to execute him will not fail; he has good reason -to hate him. He's his rival for your affections. You were the bribe I -offered him. You may rest assured the Captain's work will be done well. -His turn comes next.” - -Jerking back her head, he stooped lower, drinking in her despair. -“Millionth chances come once, if then. Yours came at Vincennes. Cease -hoping. Your American is----” - -“It's a lie.” - -Hindwood felt himself flung violently back. The wall turned inwards. -There was a report--then silence. - - -IV - - -The Prince had pitched forward with his head in Santa's lap. His hands -were clawing at her gown. As he struggled, he stiffened and slid back, -till he lay across her feet, grinning up at her. The Captain, his -revolver still smoking in his hand, threw himself to his knees, feeling -for his victim's heart. He spoke dully. - -“The dream of Monarchy is ended.” - -The quietness was broken by a distant clamor. Momentarily it gathered -volume and drew nearer. - -Throughout the Palace, which had seemed so wrapt in sleep, feet -were running. From the Palace-yard rose the clatter of arms and the -impatience of orders being shouted. On the door of the chamber an -importunate tapping had commenced. - -Hindwood looked up in the midst of freeing Santa. “They'll beat in the -panels. Find out what they want.” - -The Captain dragged himself to the door which he did not dare to open. A -rapid exchange of Hungarian followed. As Santa tottered to her feet with -the last cord severed, the Captain tiptoed back. - -“Escape by the passage. The shot was heard. They insist on seeing Prince -Rogovich.” - -“To be butchered in the streets! I guess not.” Hindwood shook his head. -“Escape does not lie in that direction. They shall see _him_. In ten -minutes. At the window. Tell them.” - -The Captain stood aghast, pointing down at the glazing eyes of the man -he had murdered. “They can't.” - -“I say they can.” - -The answer was delivered. The tapping ceased abruptly. - -“Hang on to your nerves.” Hindwood crouched above the body, dragging it -into a sitting posture. “We've exactly ten minutes to make it look like -a man who hopes to become an emperor. The peace of the world may depend -on it.” He turned to the Captain. “You who were his bodyguard, how would -he have dressed if his ambition had been granted?” - -Too pale for speech, the Captain moved towards a chest; with trembling -hands he drew forth a purple robe, ermine-lined and gold-woven with -mythical beasts of heraldry. Dipping deeper, he laid beside it a scepter -and an iron crown of twisted laurels. - -Hindwood smiled grimly. “So the scene had been rehearsed! How do these -things go? You must help me put them on him.” - -When the Prince had been arrayed, “Now the throne,” he ordered. “It'll -take the three of us to move it.” - -The gilded throne had been hauled from its alcove, so as to face the -window. The dead man, in the tinsel of his dreams, had been seated on -it. He was bound, to prevent him from lolling--bound with the cords with -which he himself had secured Santa. His gold-encrusted robe was spread -about him. Across his knees, with his right hand resting on it, was the -scepter. On his head was the iron crown of laurels. - -“The lamps! Place them at his feet. Switch on all the lights, then -vanish.” - -The curtains were flung back. A dazzling shaft pierced the outer -darkness. There was a breathless silence as of worship; a superstitious -rustling; a deafening acclamation, which echoed and roared about the -Palace-yard. - -[Illustration: 0338] - -It continued unabated for a full five minutes. It sagged and sank. Again -it mounted. Then it paused expectant. It was for all the world like a -triumph at the opera, when a singer only bows and an encore is demanded. -It recommenced. This time there was a note of anger. - -The dead man grinned down at the applauding mob. He gave no sign to -these men, prepared to die for him. Slowly it seemed to dawn on them -that he did not care--that he had never cared for their wounds and -hunger; that for men of his sort they were only beasts; that it made no -difference whether they were conquered or victorious; he would sit there -as all the kings and emperors before him, secure and immobile, sneering -at their sacrifices and coining their sufferings into profit. - -They found contempt in his vacant stare; cruelty in his marble hands -that clutched the scepter. Gesticulating and cursing, they hurled -reproaches at him. They trampled the officers who tried to quell them. -Shots were exchanged. Pandemonium was commencing. - -Hindwood consulted his watch. It lacked but a few minutes till two -o'clock. If he could hold the garrison in confusion, Varensky would have -time to seize his chance. - -He turned to the Captain behind the curtain where they watched. “What is -it they want?” - -“It was some acknowledgment at first; then a speech; now it's bread. -Can't you hear them, 'Bread! Bread! Or we do not march.'” - -At that moment the hammering on the outer door re-started. Hindwood -seized the Captain's arm. “You must speak to them; they wouldn't -understand me. You're in uniform. There's Santa. If you don't all is -lost.” - -“What shall I tell them?” - -“Anything. Speak to them as the mouthpiece of Prince Rogovich. Say -there's food in the freight-yards--two train-loads of it--and more -arriving; that soon the warehouses of Budapest will be bulging.” - -The Captain stepped forward, an heroic figure. Just as he appeared in -the oblong of the window--whether it was the sight of his uniform that -provoked the storm was not certain--a volley of bullets shattered the -glass. He clapped his hand to his forehead. There was a second volley. -The room was plunged in darkness. Hindwood darted forward. The pounding -on the outer-door grew frantic. In the Palace-yard there was the silence -of horror. - -Released by the knife of flying lead, the body of the Prince had doubled -forward, as though to peer down at the man who had betrayed him. The -Captain was beyond all help. - -As Hindwood leapt back in search of Santa, the door went down with a -crash. In a second the darkness was filled to overflowing--halberdiers, -Palace servants, wild-eyed officials. In the confusion he caught her -hand and escaped unnoticed through the pressing throng. As they hurried -through salons hung with priceless treasures, looting had started. The -first of the mob were ruthlessly at work. At the foot of the marble -staircase he glanced at his watch. “It's exactly two o'clock,” he -murmured. - - -V - - -They had passed beneath the gateway where sentries should have -challenged. Their posts were deserted. As they struck the road, -descending beneath the ramparts, Santa questioned, “Why did you say, -'It's exactly two o'clock'?” - -“Because of a note I sent Varensky.” He changed the subject. “How were -you captured?” - -She hesitated. “It was after we'd quarreled. I was afraid I'd lost you. -A messenger arrived, saying you were with the Governor and wanted me. It -was a lie; the person who wanted me was Prince Rogovich.” - -“Then Lajos betrayed you?” - -“No. He knew nothing of what happened on the _Ryndam_. He was infatuated -with me and must have talked.” She clutched his arm. “You're putting me -off. You said so strangely, 'It's exactly two o'clock.' What was in your -note to Varensky?” For answer he halted and pointed. - -Far below in the gulf of blackness, where a moment ago there had seemed -to be nothing, life had begun to quicken. In the flash of multitudinous -street-lamps, a city was being born. It kindled in vivid strokes, like -veins of fire etched on the pavement of the night. As though an artist -were completing his design, ten thousand windows opened their pin-point -eyes, filling in blank spaces with rapid specks of gold. Seen from such -a height, the effect was in miniature. The very sounds which rose up -were little. At first they were no more than a sustained humming, as -when a hive is about to swarm. They swelled to a melodious muttering. -Then, with a rush of ecstasy, the storm of joy broke; the air pulsated -with the maddening clash of chimes. - -She was clinging to him. “What is it? Is it the thing for which we've -hoped?” - -He glanced back across his shoulder at the huge pile, towering on the -rock above him. Those madmen up there, destroying and pillaging, had -they time to hear it? The Palace was glowing like a furnace. As he -watched, a column of flame shot tall towards the sky. - -Seizing her hand, he broke into a run, making all the haste he could -down the steep decline. Behind them the flames crept like serpents, -licking the clouds and mounting higher. The heat was like the breath of -a pursuer. Night had become vivid as day. There was no concealment. The -crest of the ramparts was a gigantic torch. The Danube far below was -stained red as wine. Their very shadows were lurid. And still the bells -across the river pealed out their joy. - -There was a galloping. Riderless horses, broken loose from the stables, -thundered by. Then an automobile, driven by a man with a seared and -wounded face. Others followed. The crowd on foot, fleeing from its -handiwork, was not far behind. As an empty car, with an officer at the -wheel, slowed down at a hairpin bend, Santa and he leapt aboard. - -The danger was outdistanced. They had crossed the Danube. They were -scarcely likely now to be implicated in what had happened to Prince -Rogo-vich. But they were still at the mercy of their reckless driver. In -his panic he had not once looked around; he was unaware that he carried -passengers. Hindwood knew very clearly where he wanted to go; it was -probably the last place to which he would be taken. The streets of Pest -near the river were solitary, but somewhere the mob was gathering. It -might prove awkward to be found in the company of a uniformed Monarchist -who was escaping. - -Having formulated his plan, he whispered it to Santa. “While I tackle -him, you grasp the wheel.” Leaning forward, he flung his arm about -the man's neck, jerking him backwards. The car swerved and mounted the -pavement. Santa turned it into the road again. Taken by surprise, the -man offered small resistance; the struggle was short. Hindwood toppled -him out, climbed into the front seat and took his place. - -“The station. Where is it?” he asked breathlessly. She glanced at -him with a revival of her old suspicion. “We're not leaving. Why the -station?” He could have laughed. “Still the old, distrustful Santa! -Little fool--the food-trains.” - -The first streets which they traversed were deserted; yet lamps were -lighted and the air was clamorous with belfry-music. As they drew -further into the city, they shot past groups and isolated individuals, -crawling in the same direction. For the most part they were the kind of -persons Santa had offered to show him that morning--people in rags or -entirely stark, who hobbled from weakness or dragged themselves on all -fours like dogs. It was as though the dead were rising from their graves -to follow the Pied Piper of the Resurrection. - -They came to a square, where soldiers had been concentrated. Their -packs and rifles littered the open space; the soldiers themselves had -vanished. - -The traffic grew dense. It was all on foot. Hind-wood turned to Santa, -“We shall make better time if we leave the car.” - -As they mingled with the crowd, he had a nightmare sensation of -unreality. He had never rubbed shoulders with so many human beings -so nearly naked. They themselves seemed to regard their conditions as -normal. It was he who was odd. Their legs were mere poles; their arms -laths. Their heads were misshapen like deflated footballs. With panting -persistence they padded forward, too frail to be anything but orderly. -The air was full of an earthy fragrance. Their bodies were clammy to the -touch. He could push them aside like shadows. The hair was brittle as -withered moss. - -It was the fashionable quarter of Budapest. Great arc-lights shone down -on this flowing river of gray flesh. Behind plate-glass windows -luxuries were displayed for the temptation of the bargain-snatching -foreigner--feathers and furs, jewels and laces. Past them, with eyes -enfevered by starvation, stole the noiseless populace. There was a woman -whose sole clothing was a rag about her neck; she continued to live in -Hindwood's imagination long after the sight of her was gone. And still, -with thunderous merriment, the bells above the city pealed on. - -At a turn they came to the station. Further progress was blocked. -Exerting his strength against the weakness of the mob, Hindwood edged -his way forward. When he could go no farther, he swung round on Santa. -“Tell them that I own the food-trains and that I'm going to get them -bread.” - -She had no sooner uttered her translation than a lane was cleared. As -he passed, he was aware that parched lips stooped to kiss his hands, -his garments, the very ground that he trod. He shuddered. The indecent -self-abasement of such necessity inflamed his indignation. Ahead a -cordon was drawn across the road. It was composed of Russian refugees. -He recognized them by their baggy blouses and by the short-haired women -of the Battalions of Death. From the tail of a wagon an orator was -speechifying. His head was peaked like a dunce's cap. Beside him stood a -woman, white as a lily with hair the color of raw gold. - -Hindwood caught Santa's arm. “For heaven's sake, what's he saying?” - -“What he always says on such occasions. He's preaching his gospel of -non-resistance and promising to die for them.” - -“Who cares for whom he dies, when bellies are empty and bodies are -naked? Tell them I'll clothe them and give them bread.” - -As she translated what he had said, a cry went up which drowned -Varensky. He found himself in the open space, clambering up to the wagon -and dragging Santa up beside him. There was a deep silence. - -“Tell them,” he commanded, “that starvation is ended. I'll feed them -on one condition: that they refuse to fight. Tell them I'll drive the -Russian menace back without a single shot being fired. Tell them that -I promise, on my honor as an American, to feed them all. Though -food-trains are exhausted to-night, more will arrive to-morrow. More and -more.” - -He paused, blinded with emotion at sight of the forest of thin hands -strained up to him. Shooting out his fist tremendously, he threatened. -“And tell them that I won't feed a jack one of them, if there's another -man, woman or child slaughtered, or a hint of rioting.” - - -VI - - -He had kept his word; as far as Hungary was concerned, every living -soul had been nourished. For seven days and nights, sleeping only at odd -intervals, he had sat in the barracks of the Russian refugees with the -map of Europe staring down on him from the wall. Wherever a food-train -had been despatched, the place had been marked by a little red flag. He -had had a wireless-apparatus installed; from that bare room, heavy with -mildew, he had sent out his S. O. S. calls to humanity. He had begged, -threatened, argued, commanded until at last he knew that he had won -his cause. What he did not know was that his own example had proved -more convincing than many words. The simple drama of his personal -conversion--that he should be giving what he had come to sell--had -stirred men's consciences. It had given him the right to talk. Where -once troops would have been hurried, food was being pushed forward. -It was an experiment alarmingly novel; but his phrase caught on, -“The Barricade of Bread.” It had been flashed across five continents. -Wherever the printed word had power, it had kindled men's imaginations. -By a world war-wrecked, confronted by yet another war, it had been -hailed as the strategy that would end all wars. - -Loaf by loaf, sack by sack the barricade was rising. Those little red -flags, pinned on the map, marked its progress. It was deepening and -spreading in a flanking movement, just as formerly army corps had massed -for offensives. Soon the barricade would be complete; it would stretch -in an unbroken line from the Dardanelles to the Baltic. There would be -fighting, probably to the east of Poland, where the Monarchists were -marching in a forlorn attempt to defeat the famished hordes. That could -not be prevented. But by the time the outcasts struck his main defense, -he would be in a position to halt them. - -It was only now, when the situation was in hand, that he had leisure -to realize what he had been doing. He was filled with depression in his -hour of triumph. It was long past midnight. He felt gray and spent. The -barracks were as quiet as a morgue. He wondered why; they had been so -crowded with derelicts of valiant armies, men and girls, who, having -failed to save Russia with the rifle, had been preparing to rescue her -with knowledge. Then he recalled. He had sent them all away. They -had been the new kind of soldier, by whose sacrifice his ideal had -conquered. He saw again their uplifted faces, as he had summoned them -one by one and ordered them on their perilous journeys. Wherever a red -flag was pinned on the map, one of those derelicts was in command. The -“Little Grandmother,” she had been the last. Beside himself and his -wireless operators, there could be no one left except Varensky, Santa -and Anna. - -He glanced at the window. It was a square of jet. During the early -days and nights it had framed a heart of fire, where the Palace had -smouldered on the heights of Buda. Like a subsided volcano, the Palace -had burned itself out. It was as though the fury of his life were ended. -He bowed his head in his arms, striving to reconjure what had happened. - -Flitting about the room, with his strangely catlike tread, Varensky had -been forever entering and exiting. He had been his second self, silent -and agile, anticipating his plans without a word spoken. It was Varensky -who had marshaled his exiled compatriots and placed their services at -his disposal. It was Varensky who had warned him of the strategic points -where the barricade must be strengthened. It had been always Varensky -to whom he had turned for advice and courage when things were darkest. -Without Varensky he could have accomplished nothing. And yet it was -Varensky whom he had dethroned. This should have been his moment. He had -shouted him down, snatched control from him and earned the credit. -The self-effacement of one whom he had despised as an egoist made him -humble. In a rush of tenderness he discovered that he loved him. The -peaked head was forgotten, and the face scared white as if it had seen a -ghost. The timidity of his appearance no longer counted; the thing -that mattered was the spirit, resolute and shining as a sword, that hid -within the scabbard of the grotesque body. - -And now that he remembered, there had been grief in his green eyes--the -grief of a man who had been cheated. Once again Varensky had drawn him -near to Calvary; the chance to die had been stolen from him. - -And Anna--he could not guess how she felt or what she thought. In all -those seven days and nights it seemed as though she had never looked at -him. She had moved about him like a nun, ministering to his wants with -her gaze averted. Vaguely he was aware that to him she was not what she -appeared to others. The old legend had been revived; again, as in St. -Petersburg after the fall of Czardom, wherever she passed people knelt. -To him she was no saint; his desire was too human. - -Watching the three of them with sphinxlike wisdom, there had been Santa, -her womanhood clamorous and ignored. What had she made of it? Had she -found material for humor in their temporary heroism? - -And so he came back to his first question--what had he been doing? In -constructing the barricade of bread, he had been preventing Varensky -from dying; in preventing Varensky from dying, he had been raising a -barricade between himself and Anna. Having bankrupted his pocket, he had -bankrupted his heart. In spite of warnings, he had gone in search of the -vanishing point, where the parallel rails of possibility and desire seem -to join--the point at which, to quote Varensky's words, “The safety of -the journey ends.” It was the goal of every man who wrecks himself in -the hope that he may save a world. - -How long had he been sitting there brooding? He was cold. The square -of window had turned from jet to gray. Furtively he glanced behind him. -Anna was gazing down on him. - - -VII - - -She was dressed for a journey, muffled in furs. Her left hand was -gloved; her right extended. His heart turned coward. Surely he had -earned his reward. He commenced to rise, pushing back his chair. The -steady blueness of her eyes held him. - -“Good-by,” she said. “I should have left without saying good-by, if I -had not known I could trust you.” - -“But you can trust me. It's because you can trust me that you must -stay.” - -“I can't stay.” - -“Why not?” - -“We made a bargain. Do you remember? That until we were free, we would -play the game by him--that we would even guard him against himself. -You told me once, 'I wouldn't be friends with a woman who couldn't be -loyal.' I'm trying to be loyal.” She caught her breath. “He's gone.” - -“Varensky?” - -She nodded. - -“Where?” - -“To die for us.” - -In the silence that followed, the heat of his temptation vanished. He -felt accused by the quixotic magnanimity of this strange creature, half -prophet, half charlatan, whose wife he had coveted. - -“Once I'd have been glad that he should die,” he confessed slowly, -“but not now. Food has done far more than his sacrifice could have -accomplished. Why should he be determined to die now?” - -She trusted herself to come closer, standing over him and giving him her -hand. - -“Perhaps for our sakes. Perhaps for his own. Perhaps in the hope that -his appearance may put a stop to what's left of the fighting. There was -a wireless last night which he kept to himself. It said that skirmishing -was developing between the Poles and the Russian refugees in the No -Man's Land beyond Kovel. It was after he had read it that he went out. -I waited for him to return--when I guessed. We've all misjudged him. -Perhaps we're still misjudging him. Who can say why he's gone? There's -nothing gained by attributing motives. He wants to give his life. He's -promised he would so often; always he's been thwarted. He owes it to his -honor. Kovel may be the world's last battle--his final chance.” - -In the bare room the dawn was spreading. Hind-wood rose from his chair, -stretching his cramped body and gazing at the map with its safe red line -of flags. - -“Our work is ended,” he said quietly. “Within the next few hours -stronger men will be here to take control--a commission of the best -brains, picked from all the nations. God chose us to be His stopgap.” - He paused. “After having been His instruments in averting a -world-catastrophe to speak of things personal seems paltry. And yet my -love for you fills all my thoughts. I leave Budapest a bankrupt. I shall -have to start life afresh. Your love is literally my sole possession and -I have no right to it.” - -She was backing towards the door, retreating from him. He stepped over -to the window, widening the distance that separated them. - -“Do you feel more secure now? You needn't fear me,” he reproached her. -“Was it because I spoke of our love? We have no reason to be ashamed of -it. We've played fair. How could we do less when Varensky has played so -fair by us? It's for our sakes he's gone, that he may free us.” Then, -“You're setting out alone on a journey. Would you mind telling me its -object?” - -“You know. To prevent him. To catch up with him. To bring him back.” - -“And if he refuses?” - -“To die with him.” - -He smiled whimsically. “The vanishing point! For you, with your high -standard of honor, if you were to overtake it, your problem would be -solved. But suppose the vanishing point eludes you. Suppose your husband -agrees to live, have you thought of that? It means that you and I will -never----” - -With an imploring gesture she cut him short. “It means that you and I -will never learn to despise each other. It means that I shall always -remember you at your greatest, as I've seen you in the last seven days, -self-sacrificing, brave and noble--so self-forgetting that you could -even forget the woman you adored.” - -He sank his head. In the gray square of window he looked old and -haggard. “It's true, and yet it's incredible: if we were to allow him to -die, we should despise each other. In the long years----” He glanced up. -“Though you were willing to let him and I won you, do you think I would -want you? Not that way. I'd want you so little that I'm coming with you -to help you to prevent him.” - - -VIII - - -Long lines of neglected tillage! Deserted farms! Broken fences! A gray -expanse of sky! Knots of peasants trekking always westward! Panting -cattle, nearing the exhaustion point! Creaking carts! Dawn growing -whiter; day growing golden; sunlight fading; night becoming flecked with -stars! Always the rhythm of the engine, the plunging into the distance, -the impatient urgency to thrust forward! - -It had been useless to think of traveling by trains; the railways were -too congested. Moreover, they had strongly suspected that he had set -out by car. If the No Man's Land beyond Kovel were his destination, -then Cracow would lie midway on his journey. Cracow was one of the -strong-points in the barricade, where a clump of red flags was flying. -All the traffic was escaping from the danger. If he had chosen that -route, there would be definite news of him. Any one traveling towards -the danger could not help but be remarked. - -As they inquired of fugitives, they discovered that two cars were ahead -of them. The first contained a madman, with eyes green as emeralds and a -face white and set as a mask; the second, a dark-haired woman, beautiful -as a fallen angel. The woman seemed to be in pursuit of the man. They -were, perhaps, thirty miles apart. They had thundered by into the -imperiled future as though the self-same devil rode behind them. - -What could be Santa's purpose? Anna and he argued the point, sometimes -aloud, more often in their unuttered thoughts. All their old doubts -concerning her rose up rampant. Was she a Bolshevist agent, hurrying -back to sell the last of her secrets? Was her purpose to save or to -betray Varensky? - -What had she ever wanted from him? Had she found a quality in his -self-destroying idealism that had called forth her pitying worship? In -her own dark way had she enshrined him in a mysterious corner of her -heart? Had she recognized in him a childlike weakness that had compelled -her protection? Had he stood in the twilight of her life for a door that -might open into ultimate redemption? - -Or was it loneliness that had made her follow him--the sure knowledge -that everything was ended? In those seven days, whilst they had made -history together, had she seen something that had tortured her? That she -was not wanted, as he was not wanted? Was it despair that had beckoned -her into the chaos through which he hurried to destruction? - -When they reached Cracow it was to find the city deserted. The streets -by which they entered were deathly silent; the doors wide open; the -pavements strewn with furniture which owners had lacked time to rescue. -Here and there were carts which had collapsed, and thin horses which -had died in harness. Even cats and dogs had departed. Terror peered from -behind the blankness of windows. It was like a city pillaged. - -Whatever optimisms they had entertained, they knew for certain now that -war had started. Out of sight, across gray wastes to the eastward, gray -ranks of skeletons, armed with nothing but disease, were approaching. -The dread they inspired was so great that outcasts, only a shade less -starving, had stampeded before them. - -At a turn they came to the railroad. Here their eyes met a different -spectacle. From a freight-train on a siding men, white to the eyes with -dust, were rolling barrels. They were volunteers recruited from the -safer nations--the first of the new kind of army. They were piling flour -where once they would have been stacking shells. Hindwood recognized the -barrels' markings. His sense of tragedy lightened. Laughing down into -his companion's eyes, he shouted, “Mine! Look, Anna. Mine that I meant -to sell!” - -A short-haired girl, in the tattered uniform of the Battalion of Death, -was in charge. Coming up to the car, she saluted smartly. Yes, she had -seen Varensky. It was three hours since he had passed. He had filled up -with water and gasolene, gasolene having arrived on the supply-train. -He had left for Brest-Litovsk, stating that his object was to gain a -respite for the barricade-builders. He proposed to put himself at the -head of the famine-march and to check the rapidity of its advance. After -his departure, the other had panted up--the dark-haired woman--only an -hour behind him. - -Wasting no time in conversation, Hindwood imitated Varensky's example. -He was dazed for want of sleep--almost nodding. But the man he had to -save was ahead of him. Having filled his tanks and made sure of his -engine, he started forward. - -They were throbbing through empty streets again, when a strange sound -thrilled the silence--a trumpet-call, which rang out sharply across the -housetops and broke off suddenly. - -Had they come? He slowed down, prepared to wheel about. - -Seeing what was in his thoughts, Anna rested her hand on his arm -reassuringly. - -“It's from the tower of St. Mary's. How often I've heard it! Ah, there -it is again!” Gazing up and bending forward, she listened. Then she -spoke, as though addressing some one who walked above the city, “Brave -fellow! Though they've all deserted, you've stayed on.” - -“To whom are you talking?” - -She explained quickly. Centuries ago the Church of St. Mary's had been -an outpost of Christendom, used as a watch-tower against the invading -Tartar; a soldier had been kept continually stationed there to give -warning on a trumpet of the first approach of danger. In the fourteenth -century, whilst arousing the city, the trumpeter had been struck in the -throat by an arrow. His call had faltered, rallied and sunk. With his -dying breath he had sounded a final blast, which had broken off short. -The broken call had saved Cracow. Ever since, to commemorate his -faithfulness, there had never been an hour, day or night, when his -broken trumpet-call, ending abruptly in an abyss of silence, had not -been sounded from the tower. - -Hindwood leant across the wheel, staring dreamily before him. “It might -have been his voice--Varen-sky's. He's like that--a dying trumpeter, -sounding a last warning. I almost believe in him. It's too late----” - -“It may not be,” she whispered. - -Night was falling. Straining his eyes to keep awake, he drove -impetuously on, forcing a path through the opposing shadows. - - -IX - - -How they had arrived it would have puzzled him to tell. He had vague -memories of sunsets and dawns; of times when sleep had drugged him; of -unrefreshed awakenings. - -They had reached Brest-Litovsk, the city fatal to the Russians, which -the Czar had always superstitiously avoided. Like Cracow, it was -deserted. Unlike Cracow, it was a pile of ruins. Seven times in seven -years it had been bombarded and captured. Beneath an iron sky, it -listened for the tramp of the latest conqueror. - -Hindwood drew forth his map. It was over a hundred versts to Kovel; he -doubted whether his gasolene would take him. There was nowhere where he -could replenish his supply. Before him lay a No Man's Land from which -everything had perished--behind a silence from which everything had -escaped. To continue his pursuit was folly. There was no promise of -success to allure him; of Varensky and Santa he had lost all trace. -He glanced at his drowsing companion; he had pledged his word to her. -Reluctantly he climbed into his seat and started forward. - -The suicidal stupidity of war--that was the thought that absorbed him. -Every sight that his eyes encountered emphasized its madness. Yet beyond -the horizon, where distance seemed to terminate, men were killing one -another. He understood at last Varensky's passion to die. When all else -had failed, to offer one's body was the only protest. - -The landscape was growing featureless. Rivers had overflowed. The labor -of centuries was sinking beneath morass. Villages and post-houses had -been destroyed; woods torn by shell-fire. Stationed along the route, -like buoys guarding a channel, black and white verst-poles gleamed -monotonously. On either side stretched a never-ending graveyard, marked -by rough crosses or inverted rifles. Down this pitiless straight road -had marched the seven invasions--Russian, German, Polish, Bolshevist, -each with a dream of glory in its eyes. With the victory lost and the -dream forgotten, they moldered companionably. - -It was half-way to Kovel that he first noticed what was happening; -behind scrub and fallen trees it had probably been happening for some -time. It was a gray wolf, grown bold, which first drew his attention. -Like a dog, seeking its master, it came trotting down the road. After -that they came in packs--not only wolves, but every other kind of -untamed animal. It was as though they were fleeing before a drive--the -tremendous drive of a famished nation. In their dread they seemed to -have postponed their right to prey. Hunter and quarry journeyed side by -side, their enmities in abeyance in their common terror of the enmity -which stalked behind. - -Hindwood had grown used to the spectacle, when suddenly he was startled -by another sight--a child. A child so matted and neglected, that he -scarcely recognized him as human. His feet were swathed in balls -of rags. He limped painfully, walking among the animals and staring -straight before him. At shortening intervals others followed, till at -last they came in crowds. - -Beyond Kovel, where commences the crumbling trench-system in which the -vanished Russo-German armies remained locked for so many years, he came -across his first trace of Varensky--an abandoned car with a broken axle. -Varensky must be on foot, not far ahead. He had passed another mile when -his own car halted; the gasolene had given out. With the ceasing of the -engine he caught another sound--the popping of rifle-fire. It dawned on -him that the trenches of the dead battlefield were again inhabited. He -had been driving straight into the heart of the fighting. - -The firing was drawing nearer. The Monarchists were falling back. A -bullet whizzed over his head and pinged into a mass of rusted wire. - -All that followed happened in a flash. He had seized Anna and rushed -with her to cover. From where he watched, he could see soldiers -retreating, and the tops of steel helmets bobbing above the trenches. Of -the advancing host he could see nothing. - -Suddenly from behind a mound, a man with a peaked head sprang up. He -was dressed as a civilian. He commenced to run up the road towards -the enemy, waving something white. Immediately, from another place of -hiding, a woman leapt up and followed. It was as though on the instant -truce had been declared; a tranquillity of amazement settled down. - -As he reached what appeared to be No Man's Land, he drew himself erect, -with expanded chest, and commenced to sweep his arms in the gestures -of oratory. It was dumb show; it was impossible to hear what was being -said. While he was speaking, the woman caught up with him and flung -herself upon him, making a shield of her body. - -Curiosity satisfied, both sides fired. The man and woman crumpled. -Fighting recommenced. - - -THE END - - - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Vanishing Point, by Coningsby Dawson - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE VANISHING POINT *** - -***** This file should be named 50499-0.txt or 50499-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/0/4/9/50499/ - -Produced by David Widger from page images generously -provided by the Internet Archive - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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