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43 chapters
CHAPTER I
CHAPTER I
It was late summer-time, and the perfume of flowers stole into the darkened room through the half-opened window. The sunlight forced its way through a chink in the blind, and stretched across the floor in strange zigzag fashion. From without came the pleasant murmur of bees and many lazier insects floating over the gorgeous flower beds, resting for a while on the clematis which had made the piazza a blaze of purple splendour. And inside, in a high-backed chair, there sat a man, his arms folded,
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CHAPTER II
CHAPTER II
“This is the luggage porter, sir,” Duson announced. “He is prepared to answer any questions.” The man took out his book. Mr. Sabin, who was sitting in an easy-chair, turned sideways towards him. “The Duchess of Souspennier was staying here last week,” he said. “She left, I believe, on Thursday or Friday. Can you tell me whether her baggage went through your hands?” The man set down his hat upon a vacant chair, and turned over the leaves of his book. “Guess I can fix that for you,” he remarked, r
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CHAPTER III
CHAPTER III
At precisely ten o’clock on the following morning Duson brought chocolate, which he had prepared himself, and some dry toast to his master’s bedside. Upon the tray was a single letter. Mr. Sabin sat up in bed and tore open the envelope. The following words were written upon a sheet of the Holland House notepaper in the same peculiar coloured crayon. “The first warning addressed to you yesterday was a friendly one. Profit by it. Go back to Lenox. You are only exposing yourself to danger and the p
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CHAPTER IV
CHAPTER IV
R. Sabin, who was never, for its own sake, fond of solitude, had ordered dinner for two at eight-thirty in the general dining-room. At a few minutes previous to that hour Mr. Skinner presented himself. Mr. Skinner was not in the garb usually affected by men of the world who are invited to dine out. The long day’s exertion, too, had had its effect upon his linen. His front, indeed, through a broad gap, confessed to a foundation of blue, and one of his cuffs showed a marked inclination to escape f
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CHAPTER V
CHAPTER V
BUT, after all, things did not exactly turn out as Mr. Horser had imagined. The sight of the empty room and the closed door were satisfactory enough, and he did not hesitate for a moment. “Look here, sir,” he said, “you and I are going to settle this matter quick. Whatever you paid Skinner you can have back again. But I’m going to have that report.” He took a quick step forward with uplifted hand—and looked into the shining muzzle of a tiny revolver. Behind it Mr. Sabin’s face, no longer pleasan
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CHAPTER VI
CHAPTER VI
“Here’s a lady inquiring for you, sir—just gone up to your room in the elevator,” the hotel clerk remarked to Mr. Sabin as he paused on his way to the door to hand in his key. “Shall I send a boy up?” Mr. Sabin hesitated. “A lady?” he remarked tentatively. The hotel clerk nodded. “Yes. I didn’t notice the name, but she was an Englishwoman. I’ll send up.” “Thank you, I will return,” Mr. Sabin said. “If I should miss her on the way perhaps you will kindly redirect her to my rooms.” He rang for the
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CHAPTER VII
CHAPTER VII
They sat together at a small table, looking upon a scene which was probably unique in the history of the great restaurant. The younger man was both frankly interested and undoubtedly curious. Mr. Sabin, though his eyes seemed everywhere, retained to the full extent that nonchalance of manner which all his life he had so assiduously cultivated. “It is wonderful, my dear Felix,” he said, leisurely drawing his cigarette-case from his pocket, “wonderful what good fellowship can be evolved by a kindr
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CHAPTER VIII
CHAPTER VIII
“I regret,” Mr. Sabin said to Felix as they sat side by side in the small coupe, “that your stay in this country will be so brief.” “Indeed,” Felix answered. “May I ask what you call brief?” Mr. Sabin looked out of the carriage window. “We are already,” he said, “on the way to England.” Felix laughed. “This,” he said, “is like old times.” Mr. Sabin smiled. “The system of espionage here,” he remarked, “is painfully primitive. It lacks finesse and judgment. The fact that I have taken expensive roo
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CHAPTER IX
CHAPTER IX
Felix, after an uneventful voyage, landed duly at Liverpool. To his amazement the first person he saw upon the quay was Mr. Sabin, leaning upon his stick and smoking a cigarette. “Come, come, Felix!” he exclaimed. “Don’t look at me as though I were a ghost. You have very little confidence in me, after all, I see.” “But—how did you get here?” “The Campania, of course. I had plenty of time. It was easy enough for those fellows to arrest me, but they never had a chance of holding me.” “But how did
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CHAPTER X
CHAPTER X
Mr. Sabin was deep in thought. He sat in an easy-chair with his back to the window, his hands crossed upon his stick, his eyes fixed upon the fire. Duson was moving noiselessly about the room, cutting the morning’s supply of newspapers and setting them out upon the table. His master was in a mood which he had been taught to respect. It was Mr. Sabin who broke the silence. “Duson!” “Your Grace!” “I have always, as you know, ignored your somewhat anomalous position as the servant of one man and th
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CHAPTER XI
CHAPTER XI
So this was the man! Mr. Sabin did not neglect his luncheon, nor was he ever for a moment unmindful of the grey-headed princess who chatted away by his side with all the vivacity of her race and sex. But he watched Mr. Brott. A man this! Mr. Sabin was a judge, and he appraised him rightly. He saw through that courteous geniality of tone and gesture; the ready-made smile, although it seemed natural enough, did not deceive him. Underneath was a man of iron, square-jawed, nervous, forceful. Mr. Bro
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CHAPTER XII
CHAPTER XII
“After all,” Lady Carey sighed, throwing down a racing calendar and lighting a cigarette, “London is the only thoroughly civilized Anglo-Saxon capital in the world. Please don’t look at me like that, Duchess. I know—this is your holy of holies, but the Duke smokes here—I’ve seen him. My cigarettes are very tiny and very harmless.” The Duchess, who wore gold-rimmed spectacles, and was a person of weight in the councils of the Primrose League, went calmly on with her knitting. “My dear Muriel,” sh
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CHAPTER XIII
CHAPTER XIII
He had been kept waiting longer than usual, and he had somehow the feeling that his visit was ill-timed, when at last she came to him. He looked up eagerly as she entered the little reception room which he had grown to know so well during the last few weeks, and it struck him for the first time that her welcome was a little forced, her eyes a little weary. “I haven’t,” he said apologetically, “the least right to be here.” “At least,” she murmured, “I may be permitted to remind you that you are h
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CHAPTER XIV
CHAPTER XIV
Duson entered the sitting-room, noiseless as ever, with pale, passionless face, the absolute prototype of the perfect French servant, to whom any expression of vigorous life seems to savour of presumption. He carried a small silver salver, on which reposed a card. “The gentleman is in the ante-room, sir,” he announced. Mr. Sabin took up the card and studied it. “Lord Robert Foulkes.” “Do I know this gentleman, Duson?” Mr. Sabin asked. “Not to my knowledge, sir,” the man answered. “You must show
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CHAPTER XV
CHAPTER XV
Nevertheless, Mr. Sabin lunched with discretion, as usual, but with no lack of appetite. It chanced that they were alone. Lord Camperdown was down in the Midlands for a day’s hunting, and Helene had ensured their seclusion from any one who might drop in by a whispered word to the hall porter as they passed into the house. It seemed to her that she had never found Mr. Sabin more entertaining, had never more appreciated his rare gift of effortless and anecdotal conversation. What a marvelous memor
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CHAPTER XVI
CHAPTER XVI
Mr. Brott and Mr. Sabin dined together—not, as it happened, at the House of Commons, but at the former’s club in Pall Mall. For Mr. Sabin it was not altogether an enjoyable meal. The club was large, gloomy and political; the cooking was exactly of that order which such surroundings seemed to require. Nor was Mr. Brott a particularly brilliant host. Yet his guest derived a certain amount of pleasure from the entertainment, owing to Brott’s constant endeavours to bring the conversation round to Lu
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CHAPTER XVII
CHAPTER XVII
“This little difference of opinion,” the Prince remarked, looking thoughtfully through the emerald green of his liqueur, “interests me. Our friend Dolinski here thinks that he will not come because he will be afraid. De Brouillac, on the contrary, says that he will not come because he is too sagacious. Felix here, who knows him best, says that he will not come because he prefers ever to play the game from outside the circle, a looker-on to all appearance, yet sometimes wielding an unseen force.
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CHAPTER XVIII
CHAPTER XVIII
There was for the moment a dead silence. The soft patter of cards no longer fell upon the table. The eyes of every one were turned upon the newcomers. And he, leaning upon his stick, looked only for one person, and having found her, took no heed of any one else. “Lucille!” She rose from her seat and stood with hands outstretched towards him, her lips parted in a delightful smile, her eyes soft with happiness. “Victor, welcome! It is like you to have found me, and I knew that you would come.” He
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CHAPTER XIX
CHAPTER XIX
“I will not pretend,” Mr. Sabin said, “to misunderstand you. My help is not required by you in this enterprise, whatever it may be, in which you are engaged. On the contrary, you have tried by many and various ways to keep me at a distance. But I am here, Prince—here to be dealt with and treated according to my rights.” The Prince stroked his fair moustache. “I am a little puzzled,” he admitted, “as to this—shall I not call it self-assertiveness?—on the part of my good friend Souspennier.” “I wi
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CHAPTER XX
CHAPTER XX
Mr. Sabin from his seat behind a gigantic palm watched her egress from the supper-room with a little group of friends. They came to a halt in the broad carpeted way only a few feet from him. Lady Carey, in a wonderful green gown, her neck and bosom ablaze with jewels, seemed to be making her farewells. “I must go in and see the De Lausanacs,” she exclaimed. “They are in the blue room supping with the Portuguese Ambassador. I shall be at Carmarthen House within half an hour—unless my headache bec
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CHAPTER XXI
CHAPTER XXI
Lady Carey suddenly dropped her partner’s arm. She had seen a man standing by himself with folded arms and moody face at the entrance to the ball-room. She raised her lorgnettes. His identity was unquestionable. “Will you excuse me for a moment, Captain Horton,” she said to her escort. “I want particularly to speak to Mr. Brott.” Captain Horton bowed with the slight disappointment of a hungry man on his way to the supper-room. “Don’t be long,” he begged. “The places are filling up.” Lady Carey n
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“His Highness, the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!”
“His Highness, the Prince of Saxe Leinitzer!”
Duson stood away from the door with a low bow. The Prince—in the buttonhole of whose frock-coat was a large bunch of Russian violets, passed across the threshold. Mr. Sabin rose slowly from his chair. “I fear,” the Prince said suavely, “that I am an early visitor. I can only throw myself upon your indulgence and plead the urgency of my mission.” His arrival appeared to have interrupted a late breakfast of the Continental order. The small table at which Lucille and Mr. Sabin were seated was cover
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CHAPTER XXIII
CHAPTER XXIII
“After all,” said the Prince, looking up from the wine list, “why cannot I be satisfied with you? And why cannot you be satisfied with me? It would save so much trouble.” Lady Carey, who was slowly unwinding the white veil from her picture hat, shrugged her shoulders. “My dear man,” she said, “you could not seriously expect me to fall in love with you.” The Prince sipped his wine—a cabinet hock of rare vintage—and found it good. He leaned over towards his companion. “Why not?” he asked. “I wish
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CHAPTER XXIV
CHAPTER XXIV
A barely furnished man’s room, comfortable, austere, scholarly. The refuge of a busy man, to judge by the piles of books and papers which littered the large open writing-table. There were despatch boxes turned upside down, a sea of parchment and foolscap. In the midst of it all a man deep in thought. A visitor, entering with the freedom of an old acquaintance, laid his hand upon his shoulder and greeted him with an air of suppressed enthusiasm. “Planning the campaign, eh, Brott? Or is that a han
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CHAPTER XXV
CHAPTER XXV
He peered forward over his desk at the tall graceful figure whose entrance had been so noiseless, and whose footsteps had been so light that she stood almost within a few feet of him before he was even aware of her presence. Then his surprise was so great that he could only gasp out her name. “You! Lucille!” She smiled upon him delightfully. “Me! Lucille! Don’t blame your servant. I assured him that I was expected, so he allowed me to enter unannounced. His astonishment was a delightful testimon
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CHAPTER XXVI
CHAPTER XXVI
Lucille gave a little start of amazement as she realised that she was not alone in the brougham. She reached out for the check-cord, but a strong hand held hers. “My dear Lucille,” a familiar voice exclaimed, “why this alarm? Is it your nerves or your eyesight which is failing you?” Her hand dropped. She turned towards him. “It is you, then, Prince!” she said. “But why are you here? I do not understand.” The Prince shrugged his shoulders. “It is so simple,” he said. “We are all very anxious inde
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CHAPTER XXVII
CHAPTER XXVII
Mr. SABIN drew a little breath, partly of satisfaction because he had discovered the place he sought, and partly of disgust at the neighbourhood in which he found himself. Nevertheless, he descended three steps from the court into which he had been directed, and pushed open the swing door, behind which Emil Sachs announced his desire to supply the world with dinners at eightpence and vin ordinaire at fourpence the small bottle. A stout black-eyed woman looked up at his entrance from behind the c
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CHAPTER XXVIII
CHAPTER XXVIII
Mr. Sabin, contrary to his usual custom, engaged a private room at the Milan. Lucille was in the highest spirits. “If only this were a game instead of reality!” she said, flashing a brilliant smile at him across the table, “I should find it most fascinating. You seem to come to me always when I want you most. And do you know, it is perfectly charming to be carried off by you in this manner.” Mr. Sabin smiled at her, and there was a look in his eyes which shone there for no other woman. “It is in
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CHAPTER XXIX
CHAPTER XXIX
“You spoke, my dear Lucille,” the Duchess of Dorset said, “of your departure. Is not that a little premature?” Lucille shrugged her beautiful shoulders, and leaned back in her corner of the couch with half-closed eyes. The Duchess, who was very Anglo-Saxon, was an easy person to read, and Lucille was anxious to know her fate. “Why premature?” she asked. “I was sent for to use my influence with Reginald Brott. Well, I did my best, and I believe that for days it was just a chance whether I did not
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CHAPTER XXX
CHAPTER XXX
Mr. Sabin found a fourth chair, and calmly seated himself by Lucille’s side. But his eyes were fixed upon Lady Carey. She was slowly recovering herself, but Mr. Sabin, who had never properly understood her attitude towards him, was puzzled at the air of intense relief which almost shone in her face. “You seem—all of you,” he remarked suavely, “to have found the music a little exciting. Wagner certainly knew how to find his way to the emotions. Or perhaps I interrupted an interesting discussion?”
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CHAPTER XXXI
CHAPTER XXXI
The Prince, being host, arranged the places at his supper-table. Mr. Sabin found himself, therefore, between Lady Carey and a young German attache, whom they had met in the ante-room of the restaurant. Lucille had the Prince and Mr. Brott on either side of her. Lady Carey monopolised at first the greater part of the conversation. Mr. Sabin was unusually silent. The German attache, whose name was Baron von Opperman, did not speak until the champagne was served, when he threw a bombshell into the
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CHAPTER XXXII
CHAPTER XXXII
Mr. Sabin, although he had registered at the hotel under his accustomed pseudonym, had taken no pains to conceal his identity, and was well known to the people in authority about the place. He was received with all the respect due to his rank. “Your Grace will, I trust, accept my most sincere apologies for disturbing you,” Mr. Hertz, the manager, said, rising and bowing at his entrance. “We have here, however, an emissary connected with the police come to inquire into the sad incident of this af
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CHAPTER XXXIII
CHAPTER XXXIII
The greeting between the two men was cold, and the Prince almost immediately stepped between them. Nevertheless, Brott seemed to have a fancy to talk with Mr. Sabin. “I was at Camperdown House yesterday,” he remarked. “Her Ladyship was regretting that she saw you so seldom.” “I have been a little remiss,” Mr. Sabin answered. “I hope to lunch there to-morrow.” “You have seen the evening paper, Brott?” the Prince asked. “I saw the early editions,” Brott answered. “Is there anything fresh?” The Pri
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CHAPTER XXXIV
CHAPTER XXXIV
The Prince presented himself with a low bow. Lucille had a copy of the morning paper in her hand. “I congratulate you, Countess,” he said. “You progress admirably. It is a great step gained.” Lucille, who was looking pale and nervous, regarded him with anxiety. “A step! But it is everything. If these rumours are true, he refuses the attempt to form a Cabinet. He takes a subordinate position under Letheringham. Every paper this morning says that if this is so his political career is over. It is t
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CHAPTER XXXV
CHAPTER XXXV
The Prince crossed the hall and entered the morning-room. Felix was there and Raoul de Brouillac. The Duchess sat at her writing-table, scribbling a note. Lady Carey, in a wonderful white serge costume, and a huge bunch of Neapolitan violets at her bosom, was lounging in an easy-chair, swinging her foot backwards and forwards. The Duke, in a very old tweed coat, but immaculate as to linen and the details of his toilet, stood a little apart, with a frown upon his forehead, and exactly that absorb
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CHAPTER XXXVI
CHAPTER XXXVI
Mr. Sabin received an early visitor whilst still lingering over a slight but elegant breakfast. Passmore seated himself in an easy-chair and accepted the cigar which his host himself selected for him. “I am glad to see you,” Mr. Sabin said. “This affair of Duson’s remains a complete mystery to me. I am looking to you to help me solve it.” The little man with the imperturbable face removed his cigar from his mouth and contemplated it steadfastly. “It is mysterious,” he said. “There are circumstan
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CHAPTER XXXVII
CHAPTER XXXVII
Mr. Sabin a few minutes afterwards ordered his carriage, and was driven to Dorset House. He asked for Lucille, but was shown at once into the library, where the Duke was awaiting him. Then Mr. Sabin knew that something had happened. The Duke extended his hand solemnly. “My dear Souspennier,” he said, “I am glad to see you. I was in fact on the point of despatching a messenger to your hotel.” “I am glad,” Mr. Sabin remarked, “that my visit is opportune. To tell you the truth, Duke, I am anxious t
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CHAPTER XXXVIII
CHAPTER XXXVIII
The two women were alone in the morning-room of Lady Carey’s house in Pont Street. Lucille was walking restlessly up and down twisting her handkerchief between her fingers. Lady Carey was watching her, more composed, to all outward appearance, but with closely compressed lips, and boding gleam in her eyes. “I think,” Lady Carey said, “that you had better see him.” Lucille turned almost fiercely upon her. “And why?” “Well, for one thing he will not understand your refusal. He may be suspicious.”
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CHAPTER XXXIX
CHAPTER XXXIX
Saxe Leinitzer returned to the morning-room, and taking the key from his pocket unlocked the door. Inside Lucille was pale with fury. “What! I am a prisoner, then!” she exclaimed. “How dare you lock me in? This is not your house. Let me pass! I am tired of all this stupid espionage.” The Prince stood with his back to the door. “It is for your own sake, Lucille. The house is watched.” She sank into a low chair, trembling. The Prince had all the appearance of a man himself seriously disturbed. “Lu
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CHAPTER XL
CHAPTER XL
“For once,” Lady Carey said, with a faint smile, “your ‘admirable Crichton’ has failed you.” Lucille opened her eyes. She had been leaning back amongst the railway cushions. “I think not,” she said. “Only I blame myself that I ever trusted the Prince even so far as to give him that message. For I know very well that if Victor had received it he would have been here.” Lady Carey took up a great pile of papers and looked them carelessly through. “I am afraid,” she said, “that I do not agree with y
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CHAPTER XLI
CHAPTER XLI
At eight o’clock in the evening Lucille knocked at the door of Lady Carey’s suite of rooms at the hotel. There was no answer. A chambermaid who was near came smiling up. “Miladi has, I think, descended for dinner,” she said. Lucille looked at her watch. She saw that she was a few minutes late, so she descended to the restaurant. The small table which they had reserved was, however, still unoccupied. Lucille told the waiter that she would wait for a few moments, and sent for an English newspaper.
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CHAPTER XLII
CHAPTER XLII
The Prince dined carefully, but with less than his usual appetite. Afterwards he lit a cigarette and strolled for a moment into the lounge. Celeste, who was waiting for him, glided at once to his side. “Monsieur!” she whispered. “I have been here for one hour.” He nodded. “Well?” “Monsieur le Duc has arrived.” The Prince turned sharply round. “Who?” “Monsieur le Duc de Souspennier. He calls himself no longer Mr. Sabin.” A dull flush of angry colour rose almost to his temples. “Why did you not te
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CHAPTER XLIII
CHAPTER XLIII
The great room was dimly enough lit, for the windows looking out upon the street were high and heavily curtained, The man who sat at the desk was almost in the shadow. Yet every now and then a shaft of sunlight fell across his pale, worn face. A strange combination this of the worker, the idealist, the man of affairs. From outside came the hum of a great city. At times, too, there came to his ears as he sat here the roar of nations at strife, the fierce underneath battle of the great countries o
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