'Three minutes past eight,' he remarked. 'Half a dozen pairs of gloves for me, I think. Shall I go in and see about a table or would you rather dine somewhere else?'
Suzanne made a little grimace1. They were in the foyer of the Ritz Hotel, and she was wearing a wonderful new gown.
'It is most disappointing,' she declared. 'I had made up my mind to conquest.'
'I am very impressionable,' Lavendale assured her.
She shook her head petulantly2.
'It is not you whom I wish to subjugate3.'
'I am too easy a victim, I suppose,' Lavendale sighed. 'I am afraid that to-night, however, you will have to be content with me.'
Her face suddenly changed, a brilliant smile parted her lips, she glanced at him triumphantly4. Lavendale looked over his shoulder. Mr. Kessner was crossing the lounge towards them with outstretched hand.
'You've lost your gloves,' Suzanne murmured under her breath.
Mr. Kessner greeted his two guests in the most matter-of-fact fashion.
'I must apologize for being a few moments late,' he said. 'It is rather crowded here to-night, and I thought it best to go and see that no mistake had been made about my table. I should like, if I may, to introduce to you Mr. Courlander, a friend of mine from New York. Mr. Courlander is dining with us.'
The two young people murmured something suitable. Mr. Courlander turned out to be a dark, heavy-browed man, clean-shaven, and of a taciturn disposition5. The little party made their way in to dinner. They were ushered6 to a small round table in the best quarter of the room, a table lavishly7 arranged with flowers and flanked with a couple of ice-pails, from which gold-foiled bottles were protruding8. Suzanne gave a little sigh of content as she sank into her chair, and looked around her appreciatively.
'I have always observed,' she said softly, 'that the men of your country, Mr. Kessner, know so well how to entertain.'
'And also,' Mr. Kessner remarked, blinking slightly, 'how to select their guests.'
The service of dinner proceeded. Mr. Kessner, in his dress-suit, which seemed several sizes too large for him, appeared somehow to have become a more insignificant9 person than ever. In this ultra-fashionable restaurant, full of well-set-up men and soldiers in uniform, he seemed almost like some by-product10, something not altogether human. His very insignificance11 compelled a certain amount of notice; conferred upon him, perhaps, an air of distinctiveness12 if not of distinction. He was Kessner, the multi-millionaire, probably over to secure contracts from the Government. The aroma13 of wealth hovered14 around his table. The term 'German-American' was unused—to few people there did it convey any significance. The little party talked of every subject under the sun except the war. Mr. Courlander, notwithstanding his heavy appearance, was an excellent raconteur15. Dinner was more than half-way through before their host changed his attitude.
'You two young people did not, by any chance, expect me to break my appointment for this evening, did you?' he asked.
'We had a bet about it,' Suzanne admitted.
'Tell me who wagered17 in my favour and I will tell you which is the cleverer of the two?' he offered.
Suzanne laughed.
'It was I who thought that you would come,' she declared.
He bowed.
'After all,' he argued, 'why not? Listen,' he went on, leaning across the table. 'Courlander here does not count. He is in my confidence. He was, indeed, at one time my private secretary. To the world I am an American. To our young friend here,' he went on, indicating Lavendale, 'who appears to have partly discarded his diplomatic career for an excursion into the secret service of his country, I am a German-American. He follows me to Germany. He knows that I have a conference with the Kaiser. He is all agog18 with the importance of it. He comes back. He consults with you, my dear young lady, and with marvellous subtlety19 he asks me to lunch and exposes me most unfairly to the trial of your charms. I succumb—what more natural?'
He leaned back in his chair while a portly ma?tres d'h?tel superintended the filling of their glasses with champagne20 and explained to him the mysteries of the course which was being served. Neither Suzanne nor Lavendale found it easy to continue their meal unmoved. Their eyes were fixed21 upon this insignificant little man who spoke22 with such deliberation, such a queer little curl of the lips, such obvious enjoyment23 of his own thoughts.
'Your deep-laid scheme,' he went on, 'was crowned with complete success. The poor little American was robbed of his secret. By this time it is probably known in Washington. There is only one little fly in the ointment16. A private intimation has already been given through our ambassador in Washington to the American Government, that unless America at once abandons her position of favouring the Allies at the expense of Germany and Austria, Germany will refuse now and for always henceforth to respect and accept the Monroe Doctrine24.'
There was a moment's breathless silence. Then Lavendale drained his glass.
'You mean that that pronouncement has already been made?' he murmured.
'It has already been made,' Mr. Kessner assented25. 'Further, you can understand quite easily, I am sure, that the exact locality in which this break should take place, although interesting, is not of vital importance. I do not wish to dispirit you. Yours was, without doubt, an excellent stroke of work, and I, the poor victim, am compelled to droop26 a diminished head. Yet I offer you this explanation so that you can see the reason why I am able to accept my defeat gracefully27, to welcome you both here as my guests, to raise my glass to your beautiful eyes, mademoiselle, and to wish you, Mr. Lavendale, the further success in your profession which such subtlety and finesse29 demand.'
'Say, he's eloquent30 to-night, isn't he?' Mr. Courlander remarked. 'Quite an epic31 little meeting, this. I can assure you all that I consider it an immense privilege to have been asked to join your little party this evening.'
'My subtle friend,' Mr. Kessner continued, setting his glass down empty, 'is now wondering why you were asked to join it.'
'Not at all,' Lavendale replied. 'The fame of Mr. Courlander is well known to me.'
Their host for a single moment seemed disturbed. He recovered himself, however, almost immediately.
'Mr. Courlander,' he went on, 'as I have told you was once my secretary. Since then, for a brief space of time, he became a criminologist. Disgusted with the coarse tendencies of crime as practised in more modern cities he abandoned that profession to become what I might call a diplomatic detective. He is the terror of our loose-living public men and our ambitious but dishonest politicians.'
'Our friend's career in America,' Lavendale remarked dryly, 'must of necessity be a strenuous32 one!'
Mr. Kessner for a moment smiled. There was no effort of humour about the gesture. It was simply a slow, sideways parting of the lips, an index of thoughts travelling backwards33 along a road lined with grotesque34 memories. He drew a heavy gold pencil from his pocket and signed the bill. Then he rose to his feet.
'We will take our coffee outside,' he suggested. 'Afterwards, if it meets with your approval, I have a box at one of the music halls—I am not sure which.'
They lingered only a few minutes over their coffee. While they sat there, however, Mr. Kessner's secretary, a middle-aged35 man with gold spectacles and abstracted manner, brought in a note. Mr. Kessner opened it, read it carefully and tore it into small pieces. He rose, a few minutes later, joined his secretary, who was waiting on the outskirts36 of the little group, and walked with him twice down the entrance hall. Then he returned.
'The car is waiting,' he announced, 'if you are ready. Won't you, my Machiavellian37 young friend,' he added, glancing at the scraps38 of paper which he had left upon the coffee table, 'try and put those fragments together? I promise that you would find them interesting—more intrigue39, and a very interesting one, I can assure you.'
Lavendale found it hard to forgive himself later for the impulse which prompted his answer. The temptation, however, was irresistible40.
'I have no need to put them together to know the source of your message,' he replied.
'No?' Mr. Kessner remarked politely, as he lingered for a moment over adjusting Suzanne's coat. 'There are a good many millions of people in London, are there not? Shall I give you a hundred thousand to one against naming the writer?'
'In dollars, if you like,' Lavendale replied carelessly. 'I won't take your money, but I'll start, then, with Baron41 Niko Komashi.'
Mr. Kessner, who had half turned away, watching the result of his attentions to Suzanne, became suddenly motionless. His lips were a little parted, he seemed almost paralysed. When he turned slowly around there was a new look in his eyes. Courlander, on the other hand, did not attempt to restrain an exclamation42 of wonder.
'Baron Niko Komashi,' Kessner repeated. 'Who is he?'
Lavendale laughed easily. He was already bitterly regretting his momentary43 lapse44.
'Heaven knows!' he exclaimed. 'The odds45 dazzled me.'
They walked out to the car almost in silence. A new spirit seemed to have come to Kessner. He looked and talked differently throughout the rest of the evening's entertainment. He seemed somehow to have lost his air of half bantering46 confidence. When the time came for farewells, he looked long and earnestly into Lavendale's face.
'We must know one another better, young man,' was all he said....
On their way back to her rooms, Suzanne gripped Lavendale by the arm and asked him a question.
'What does it all mean?' she demanded. 'Why did you guess Niko? Why were they both so thunderstruck?'
'Because,' he replied, 'Niko happened to be the writer of that little epistle.'
Her large eyes gleamed at him through the semi-darkness, filled with wonder.
'But how could you possibly know that?'
He smiled.
'It is your responsibility,' he explained. 'I noticed the perfume directly he drew the note from the envelope.'
She laughed softly—softly at first and then heartily47.
'Why, it is most amusing!' she exclaimed. 'He thinks you a necromancer48. He is, I believe, a little afraid of you. And that other man, all through the performance he scarcely took his eyes off you.'
'At any rate,' Lavendale observed, 'it has given me something to think about.'
II
Lavendale found his way to the American Embassy early on the following morning, and interviewed his friend Mr. Washburn.
'Anything from Washington?' he inquired.
'I have only had a formal acknowledgment,' Mr. Washburn replied, 'except that they added a code word they don't often make use of, and which I take to indicate a pat on the back for you.'
'Is it true,' Lavendale continued, dragging a chair up to the side of Mr. Washburn's desk, 'that Berlin has given Washington to understand that unless she changes her attitude toward the Allies and withdraws her objection to submarine warfare49, she will no longer respect the Monroe Doctrine?'
'Pourparlers to that effect,' Mr. Washburn confessed, 'have passed. How did you come to hear of them?'
Lavendale smiled a little grimly, yet with some self-satisfaction.
'I am getting on the track of something else which promises to be even more interesting,' he went on. 'Tell me, how do we stand with Japan just now?'
Mr. Washburn knitted his brows.
'Still friction—always friction,' he admitted. 'The whole thing is too ridiculous. Personally, I consider our Western States are very much to blame. We have never before raised the cry 'America for the Americans only,' and it's too late to do it now. And the fact of it is you see, the Western States simply decline to fall in with Washington Policy. Then the trouble comes. Any particular reason for asking?'
'I don't know yet,' Lavendale replied. 'There's a Japanese fellow named Komashi in my line of business, seems to be very busy just lately. I only caught on to it last night, though. Chief well?'
'We are all overworked,' Washburn replied. 'We have had to send Barclay over to Berlin to get a personal report about the prisoners' camps there. Then we get enough questions from Germany ourselves, about their prisoners here, to swamp the place.'
Lavendale took up his hat.
'I'll see you later,' he promised.
He walked down the steps from Spring Gardens into St. James's Park and sat for a time upon a seat. Exactly in front of him, the upper floors of one of the big houses in Carlton Terrace had been turned into a hospital, and he could see the soldiers lying about in long chairs, a few of them entertaining guests. Behind him was the long row of huts built by the Admiralty. A troop of soldiers swung along the broad road, a loudly playing band heralded50 the approach of a little company of recruits. Save for these things, London seemed as usual. From where he sat, the hum and the roar of the great city came as insistently51 as ever to his ears. His thoughts had travelled back to New York. How long, he wondered? ...
It was one of the chances of a lifetime which brought Lavendale face to face that afternoon with Baron Niko Komashi in a quiet street near St. James's Square. Niko would have passed on without even a sign of recognition but Lavendale stopped him.
'Good afternoon!' he said.
'Good afternoon!' the other replied gravely.
'I should like a few minutes' conversation with you,' Lavendale proceeded.
Niko was perplexed52 but acquiescent53.
'If it pleases,' he answered a little vaguely54.
Lavendale marched him along the street.
'There is a little bridge club to which I belong, close at hand,' he said. 'Come into the sitting-room55 there for a few moments. We shall be quite alone at this hour of the afternoon.'
Niko suffered himself to be passively led in the direction which his companion indicated. In a few moments they were seated in the comfortable parlour of a well-known bridge club. They were quite alone and Lavendale closed the door.
'Well,' he asked, 'how goes it with your new ally?'
Niko's face betrayed nothing but mild wonder. Lavendale smiled.
'Listen,' he said, 'I may be making a mistake about you. I do not think that I am. I think that you represent for your country what I do for mine. You are intensely patriotic56. So am I. You realize the need for a certain amount of diplomatic insight into the workings of her constitution and her future. So do I. The only trouble is that you are for Japan and I am for America.'
Niko assented very gravely. His soft brown eyes were watching Lavendale's lips as though they would read upon them even the unuttered words. His finger-tips, soft and pliant57 as velvet58, were pressed together.
'You are not to be bought, my friend,' Lavendale went on. 'Neither am I. When we walk together, you hedge yourself around with restraint because you believe that I am one of those who could bear your country ill-will. That is where you are wrong. That is where there is a cloud between us which ought to be driven away. Japan and America naturally, industrially and geographically59, should be friends, not enemies.'
'The causes of ill-feeling which lie between us,' Niko observed suavely60, 'are not of our making.'
'Nor of ours—not of the true American,' Lavendale answered promptly61. 'It is the desire of Washington, official Washington, that the sons of your country who come to us should be treated as our own sons. What we have to contend with, and you, is local feeling. The only sentiment that exists against Japan in my country is that local feeling, and the people who have shown themselves most virulently62 possessed63 of it are the compatriots of the man who only within the last few weeks has sought to pave the way for a disgraceful compact with your country.'
Niko's face was a little whiter, his eyes were filled with wonder. Slowly he nodded his head.
'You surprise me with your knowledge of things which I had imagined secret,' he said. 'Secret they have remained so far as I am concerned. Such information as you have gained can have come but from one source, so I will speak thus far. The sword of Japan shall be drawn64 in defence of her honour, and for no other cause. The alliance which you suggest would be hateful and dishonouring65 to my country. Nor,' he concluded, 'would Japan at any time commence a war with a treasonable ally.'
'What answer have you made to Kessner?' Lavendale asked bluntly.
His companion gently raised his eyebrows66.
'Who is that gentleman—Mr. Kessner?' he inquired.
Lavendale shrugged67 his shoulders.
'Ah! I forgot,' he said. 'Those would not be your methods. Yet we know quite well that the person whose name I have mentioned has made overtures68 to you which could not, under present circumstances, emanate69 from Berlin. Japan from the west, and Germany on the east, might well embarrass a country so criminally unprepared for war as mine. I take it, however, that that combination is not to be feared.'
Niko rose from his place. He had a habit of ending a discussion exactly at the period he chose.
'Not in your time or mine,' he answered simply....
Lavendale, notwithstanding a nervous system almost unexampled, was possessed of curiously70 sensitive instincts. Before he reached Pall71 Mall, he was obsessed72 with an idea that he was being followed. He turned rather abruptly74 around. A tall, broad-shouldered man in dark clothes, wearing a Homburg hat and with a cigar in the corner of his mouth, waved his stick in friendly greeting.
'This is Mr. Lavendale, isn't it?' he remarked. 'Kind of forgotten me, perhaps? My name's Courlander. Met you with Mr. Kessner the other night.'
'I remember you perfectly75,' Lavendale acknowledged. 'Very pleasant dinner we had.'
Mr. Courlander fell into step with his companion, who had turned eastwards76.
'There are few things in the world that Ludwig Kessner doesn't understand,' he continued, 'from the placing of a loan to the ordering of a dinner. He isn't much use at eating it, poor fellow, but that's the fault of his digestion77. Too much ice-water, I tell him.'
Lavendale nodded affably. He had no objection whatever to discussing Mr. Kessner.
'Kind of misunderstood over here, the boss,' Courlander went on. 'People think because he's of German extraction that his sympathies are altogether that way. As a matter of fact, I can tell you, Mr. Lavendale, that people are dead wrong. At the present moment—I wouldn't have every one know this, but you're an American, too—Mr. Kessner is making proposals for a very large purchase of British War Loan.'
'Is he indeed!' Lavendale observed, in a tone as colourless as he could make it.
Courlander glanced at him curiously. They were passing the Carlton and he drew his arm through Lavendale's.
'Just one cocktail78,' he suggested.
Lavendale hesitated for a moment, inspired by an instinctive79 dislike of his companion. Policy, however, intervened. He accepted the invitation and followed Courlander into the smoke-room. They found two easy-chairs and the latter gave the order.
'I was talking about the boss,' he went on. 'There are others besides you who have misunderstood him some, but they'll learn the truth before the war's over.'
'When is Mr. Kessner returning to America?' Lavendale asked.
'As soon as he can find a safe steamer,' Courlander replied. 'He is a trifle nervous about the Atlantic. Say, that tastes good!'
Mr. Courlander leaned back and sipped80 his cocktail. Lavendale, with a word of excuse, rose to his feet and strolled across the room to speak to an acquaintance. He returned in less than a minute. Mr. Courlander was leaning back in his chair, American from tip to toe. He wore a dark grey suit of some smooth material. His square-toed boots, the little flag in his buttonhole, his prim82 tie, his air of genial83 confidence, were all eloquently84 and convincingly typical of his nationality. Lavendale was followed by a waiter bearing two more glasses upon a tray.
'Try my sort,' he invited.
Mr. Courlander glanced at Lavendale's glass, which was still three-quarters full.
'You haven't finished your first one yet,' he remarked.
'A little too dry for me,' Lavendale replied, placing it upon the tray and taking the full glass. 'Here's luck!'
The two men looked at one another. In Courlander's hard brown eyes, a little narrowed by his drooping85 eyebrows, there was an air of fierce though latent questioning. Then with an abrupt73 gesture he took the glass from the tray and drank off its contents.
'You'll forgive me if I hurry away,' Lavendale went on. 'We shall meet again, I dare say, before Mr. Kessner leaves.'
'Sure!' Mr. Courlander murmured, as he picked up his hat. 'I am generally to be found round about the Milan. Like to have you come and dine with me one night.'
The two men parted at the hotel entrance. Lavendale got into a taxi and drove to his rooms. As he changed his clothes, he glanced through his correspondence. There was a note from Suzanne which he read over twice:—
'Dear Friend,—
'I want to see you at once. I shall be in from seven till eight. Please call.'
Lavendale glanced at the clock, hurried with his toilet, and found himself ringing the bell at the entrance door of Suzanne's suite86 at half-past seven. She admitted him herself and ushered him into the little sitting-room, which had been transformed almost into a bower87 of deep red roses.
'Mr. Kessner,' she exclaimed, pointing around, 'with a carte de visite! You see what he says?—'"From a forgiving enemy!"'
Lavendale glanced at them with a frown upon his forehead.
'I'd like to throw them out of the window,' he declared frankly88.
'Do not be foolish,' she laughed. 'Listen. You are dining somewhere?'
'At our own shop,' he replied. 'They ask me about once in every two months, to fill up.'
'I wanted to speak to you about that man Courlander,' she went on.
'Well?'
'Lawrence Dowell—the American newspapers woman, you know—was in here yesterday and stayed to lunch. We saw Mr. Courlander in the distance and she told me about him. Do you know that he was convicted of murder?—that it was only through Mr. Kessner's influence that he was taken out of Sing-Sing? He was a police-sergeant and his name was Drayton. They say that there were several cases against him of having men put out of the way who had made themselves obnoxious89 to Tammany Hall. The sentence against him was quite clear, yet Mr. Kessner not only managed to have him released but made him his private secretary.'
Lavendale stood for a moment looking out of the window with his hands in his pockets. Then he turned slowly around.
'About an hour ago,' he said, 'this fellow Courlander tried to doctor a cocktail I was drinking in the Carlton smoking-room.'
'What?' she exclaimed.
'I met him at the corner of St. James's Street,' he went on. 'I had been in the club with Niko Komashi, and I am perfectly certain that he had been dogging me. We walked along Pall Mall and he pressed me to go in and have a cocktail. I happened to cross the room to speak to Willoughby and on the way glanced into the mirror. I saw Courlander's hand suddenly flash over my glass. It was so quick that even though I saw it myself, I could scarcely believe it, and I'm certain that no one else in the room could have noticed it. When I got back, I made some excuse and ordered another cocktail.'
She seemed suddenly to lose some part of that serenity91 which as yet he had never seen even ruffled92. She was distinctly paler.
'You must be careful—please promise that you will be careful,' she begged.
'This isn't New York,' he reminded her.
'But that man is a perfect devil,' she persisted earnestly. 'He is a professional murderer. He has no feeling, no mercy, and he is so cunning. And behind him there is Kessner and all his millions.'
Lavendale shrugged his shoulders.
'All the millions that were ever owned,' he said, 'wouldn't help a man over here against the law. I am not afraid of Courlander. There is nothing he could try which I am not prepared for, and if it comes to a hand-to-hand struggle, I don't think I have anything to fear from him.'
'I don't like it,' she told him frankly. 'You will be on your guard, won't you?'
His voice softened93.
'Of course I will, but, Miss de Freyne—Suzanne—why don't you like it? Why do you worry about me at all?'
She was silent for a moment. She had turned a little towards the window, her eyes had lost their usual directness. He took a step forward.
'It isn't because you care a little about me, by any chance, is it?' he asked.
She gave him her hand. Then she turned around and he saw that her eyes were soft with tears.
'Suzanne!' he faltered94.
She turned towards him. There was something very sweet about her little gesture, something yielding and yet restraining.
'Won't you please forget all this for just a little time?' she pleaded. 'To tell you the truth, I feel almost like a traitress when I even let myself think of such things now that my country is in such agony, when everything that is dear to me in life seems imperilled. You have your work, too, and I have mine. Perhaps the end may be happy.'
He raised her fingers to his lips and kissed them.
'I will obey,' he promised, turning towards the door.
'And you will be careful—please be careful,' she begged, as she let him out and squeezed his arm for a moment. 'There! Now you must go to your dinner. You look very nice, and I am sure you will sit next some one altogether charming, and perhaps you will forget. But I shall like to think of this evening.' ...
Practical, hard-headed, and with a sound hold upon the every-day episodes of life, Lavendale nevertheless passed through the remainder of that evening with his head in the clouds. He was vaguely conscious of the other twenty-three guests who shared with him the hospitality of the Ambassador—a few diplomats95, a professor from Harvard University and his wife, two other distinguished96 Americans, with a sprinkling of their English connections. He sat next a distant relative of his own, an American girl who had married an Englishman, and his abstraction was perhaps ministered to by the fact that conversation from him was entirely97 unlooked for. In the reception rooms afterwards he found himself able to speak for a moment with Washburn.
'Have you seen anything of Mr. Kessner?' he asked.
The other made a little grimace.
'Very little,' he replied. 'The Chief and he don't exactly hit it off. I heard a rumour98 the other day that he might be going back to Germany.'
Lavendale played a couple of rubbers of bridge and was invited to take a cigar in the library before he left. It was shortly after one o'clock before he stepped into the taxicab which a servant had summoned for him.
'17 Sackville Street,' Lavendale directed.
He threw himself back in the corner of the vehicle, and they glided99 off. A drizzling100 rain was falling and the streets were almost empty. He leaned forward in his place to light a cigarette. That fact and his habits of observation probably saved his life. He realized suddenly that this was no ordinary taxicab in which he was travelling. It conformed to none of the usual types. The cushions were more luxurious101, the appointments unusual. He sat for a moment thinking. The chauffeur102 was driving at a fair pace, but he had taken a somewhat circuitous103 route. Lavendale tried the doors, first on one side, then on the other. They were both fast, secured with some sort of spring lock. Suddenly alert, he rose softly to his feet, crouched104 for a moment upon the back seat and thrust his head and shoulders through the window. It was easy enough to wriggle105 out, to descend106 and allow the vehicle to proceed to its destination, wherever that might be, without its passenger, but the love of adventure was upon him. He set his teeth, sank back once more in his corner, half closed his eyes. To all appearance he might have been a tired diner-out prematurely107 asleep. As a matter of fact, every nerve and sense was keenly on the alert, and his right fingers were locked around the butt81 of a small revolver. Without protest or comment, he saw himself conducted by a roundabout way into a maze108 of quiet streets. Then, with a little thrill of anticipation109, he saw a man who had been loitering near an entry turn and follow the vehicle, which at his coming had slackened speed. The man was wearing some sort of rubber-soled shoes and his footsteps upon the street were noiseless. Through his half-closed eyes, Lavendale was nevertheless conscious of his approach, realized his soft spring on to the footboard of the car, was more than prepared for the sudden flick110 in his face of a sodden111 towel, reeking112 with chloroform. His right fist shot out, the figure on the footboard went reeling back into the street. Even then, prepared though he had been, Lavendale for a moment gasped113 for breath. The car, with a sudden grinding of the brakes, came to a standstill. They were at the top of a darkly-lit street and not a soul was in sight. Lavendale thrust his foot through the glass in front of him, shattering it all around the driver. The man half sprang to his feet, but Lavendale's swift speech arrested him.
'Sit where you are,' he ordered. 'Never mind about that other fellow. Drive me to the Milan Hotel. You know the way, so do I. If you go a yard out of it, feel this!'
He suddenly dug the muzzle114 of his revolver into the man's neck. The man, with an oath, crouched forward.
'Do as I tell you,' Lavendale thundered, 'or I'll shoot you where you sit! Remember you're not in New York. Do as I tell you.'
Once more the car glided off. They turned almost immediately into Piccadilly, across Leicester Square, passed up the Strand115 and drew up at the Milan. Lavendale put his head through the window as the porter came out from the Court entrance.
'I can't open this door,' he said. 'Ask the fellow in front how to do it.'
The porter stared with surprise at the shattered glass. The driver slipped down, touched a spring on the outside and the door flew open. He had pulled his cap deeper over his face. Lavendale looked at him for a moment steadfastly116.
'Wait for me,' he ordered.
He walked into the Court, rang for the lift and ascended117 to the fourth floor. He stepped out and rang the bell at number seventy-four. For a moment there was no answer. He rang it again. Then a light suddenly flashed up in the room and Mr. Kessner, fully28 dressed, stood upon the threshold. He gazed, speechless, at Lavendale, who pushed forward across the threshold, holding the door open with one hand.
'Mr. Kessner,' he said, 'your thug with the chloroform is lying on his back somewhere near Sackville Street. I shouldn't wonder if his spine118 wasn't broken. Your sham119 chauffeur is downstairs with his sham taxicab. I made him bring me here. You understand?'
The tip of Mr. Kessner's tongue had moistened his lips. His lined yellow face seemed more than ever like the face of some noxious90 animal.
'You are drunk, young man,' he said.
Lavendale raised his arm and Mr. Kessner stepped back.
'Don't be afraid,' Lavendale went on scornfully. 'I am not going to shoot you. When the day of reckoning comes between you and me, if ever it does, I shall take you by the throat and wring120 the life out of your body. But I am here now to tell you this. Before I sleep, a full account of this night's adventure, instigated121 by you and your assassin Courlander, will be written down and deposited in a safe place. If anything happens to me, if I disappear even for a dozen hours, that paper will be opened. You may get me, even now, you and Courlander between you, only you'll have to pay the price. See? In England it's a damned ugly price!'
Mr. Kessner sucked the breath in between his teeth. Then, as though with some super-human effort, he recovered himself.
'Say, young fellow, won't you come in and talk this out?' he invited.
Lavendale laughed dryly.
'"Won't you walk into my parlour?"' he quoted mockingly. 'No, thank you, Mr. Kessner! You know where we stand now. Let me give you a word of warning. London isn't New York. A very little of this sort of thing and you'll find the hand of a law that can't be bought or bribed122 or evaded123 in any way, tapping upon your shoulders. You understand?'
Mr. Kessner yawned.
'You are a foolish young man,' he said, 'and you've been reading a little too much modern fiction.'
He slammed the door and Lavendale descended124 to the street. The courtyard was empty.
'The car didn't wait for me, I suppose?' he inquired of the porter.
'The fellow drove off directly you went upstairs, sir. I shouted after him but he took no notice. Shall I get you a taxi, sir?'
Lavendale fumbled125 in his pocket, found a cigarette and lit it.
'Thank you,' he replied, 'I think I'll walk.'
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1
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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petulantly
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subjugate
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| v.征服；抑制 | |
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triumphantly
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| ad.得意洋洋地；得胜地；成功地 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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ushered
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| v.引，领，陪同( usher的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lavishly
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| adv.慷慨地，大方地 | |
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protruding
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的现在分词 )；凸 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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by-product
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| n.副产品，附带产生的结果 | |
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insignificance
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| n.不重要；无价值；无意义 | |
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distinctiveness
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| 特殊[独特]性 | |
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aroma
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| n.香气，芬芳，芳香 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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raconteur
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| n.善讲故事者 | |
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ointment
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| n.药膏，油膏，软膏 | |
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wagered
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| v.在（某物）上赌钱，打赌( wager的过去式和过去分词 )；保证，担保 | |
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agog
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| adj.兴奋的，有强烈兴趣的； adv.渴望地 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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20
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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22
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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assented
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| 同意，赞成( assent的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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droop
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| v.低垂，下垂；凋萎，萎靡 | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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finesse
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| n.精密技巧，灵巧，手腕 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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epic
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| n.史诗，叙事诗；adj.史诗般的，壮丽的 | |
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32
strenuous
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| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
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backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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grotesque
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| adj.怪诞的，丑陋的；n.怪诞的图案，怪人（物） | |
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middle-aged
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| adj.中年的 | |
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outskirts
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| n.郊外，郊区 | |
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machiavellian
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| adj.权谋的，狡诈的 | |
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38
scraps
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| 油渣 | |
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intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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40
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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baron
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| n.男爵；(商业界等)巨头，大王 | |
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42
exclamation
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| n.感叹号，惊呼，惊叹词 | |
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43
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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44
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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45
odds
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| n.让步，机率，可能性，比率；胜败优劣之别 | |
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46
bantering
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| adj.嘲弄的v.开玩笑，说笑，逗乐( banter的现在分词 )；（善意地）取笑，逗弄 | |
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47
heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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48
necromancer
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| n. 巫师 | |
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49
warfare
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| n.战争(状态)；斗争；冲突 | |
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50
heralded
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| v.预示( herald的过去式和过去分词 )；宣布（好或重要） | |
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51
insistently
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| ad.坚持地 | |
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52
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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53
acquiescent
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| adj.默许的，默认的 | |
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54
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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sitting-room
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| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
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patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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pliant
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| adj.顺从的；可弯曲的 | |
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velvet
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| n.丝绒，天鹅绒；adj.丝绒制的，柔软的 | |
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geographically
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| adv.地理学上，在地理上，地理方面 | |
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suavely
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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virulently
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| 恶毒地，狠毒地 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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dishonouring
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| 使（人、家族等）丧失名誉（dishonour的现在分词形式） | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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overtures
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| n.主动的表示，提议；（向某人做出的）友好表示、姿态或提议( overture的名词复数 )；（歌剧、芭蕾舞、音乐剧等的）序曲，前奏曲 | |
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emanate
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| v.发自，来自，出自 | |
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curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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pall
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| v.覆盖，使平淡无味；n.柩衣，棺罩；棺材；帷幕 | |
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obsessed
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| adj.心神不宁的,鬼迷心窍的,沉迷的 | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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eastwards
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| adj.向东方（的），朝东（的）；n.向东的方向 | |
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digestion
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| n.消化，吸收 | |
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cocktail
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| n.鸡尾酒；餐前开胃小吃；混合物 | |
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instinctive
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| adj.(出于)本能的；直觉的；(出于)天性的 | |
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80
sipped
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| v.小口喝，呷，抿( sip的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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81
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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82
prim
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| adj.拘泥形式的，一本正经的；n.循规蹈矩，整洁；adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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83
genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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eloquently
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| adv. 雄辩地(有口才地, 富于表情地) | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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suite
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| n.一套(家具)；套房；随从人员 | |
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bower
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| n.凉亭，树荫下凉快之处；闺房；v.荫蔽 | |
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frankly
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| adv.坦白地，直率地；坦率地说 | |
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obnoxious
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| adj.极恼人的，讨人厌的，可憎的 | |
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noxious
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| adj.有害的，有毒的；使道德败坏的，讨厌的 | |
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serenity
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| n.宁静，沉着，晴朗 | |
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ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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93
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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94
faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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diplomats
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| n.外交官( diplomat的名词复数 )；有手腕的人，善于交际的人 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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rumour
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| n.谣言，谣传，传闻 | |
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glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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100
drizzling
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| 下蒙蒙细雨，下毛毛雨( drizzle的现在分词 ) | |
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luxurious
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| adj.精美而昂贵的；豪华的 | |
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102
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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circuitous
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| adj.迂回的路的，迂曲的，绕行的 | |
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104
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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wriggle
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| v./n.蠕动，扭动；蜿蜒 | |
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106
descend
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| vt./vi.传下来，下来，下降 | |
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prematurely
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| adv.过早地，贸然地 | |
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maze
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| n.迷宫，八阵图，混乱，迷惑 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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flick
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| n.快速的轻打，轻打声，弹开；v.轻弹，轻轻拂去，忽然摇动 | |
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111
sodden
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| adj.浑身湿透的；v.使浸透；使呆头呆脑 | |
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112
reeking
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的现在分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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113
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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114
muzzle
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| n.鼻口部；口套；枪(炮)口；vt.使缄默 | |
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115
strand
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| vt.使（船）搁浅，使（某人）困于（某地） | |
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116
steadfastly
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| adv.踏实地，不变地；岿然；坚定不渝 | |
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117
ascended
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| v.上升，攀登( ascend的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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118
spine
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| n.脊柱，脊椎；(动植物的)刺；书脊 | |
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sham
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| n./adj.假冒(的)，虚伪(的) | |
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120
wring
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| n.扭绞；v.拧，绞出，扭 | |
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121
instigated
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| v.使（某事物）开始或发生，鼓动( instigate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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122
bribed
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| v.贿赂( bribe的过去式和过去分词 )；向（某人）行贿，贿赂 | |
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123
evaded
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| 逃避( evade的过去式和过去分词 )； 避开； 回避； 想不出 | |
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124
descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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