And now luncheon was over; the Princess at the telephone in her boudoir; Rue3 in the music-room with Neeland, still excited, anxious, confused.
Astonishment4, mortification5, anger, had left Neeland silent; and the convention known as luncheon had not appealed to him.
But very little was said during that formality; and in the silence the serious nature of the episode which so suddenly had deprived the Princess of the olive-wood box and the papers it contained impressed Neeland more and more deeply.
The utter unexpectedness of the outrage—the helpless figure he had cut—infuriated him. And the more he reflected the madder he grew when he realised that all he had gone through meant nothing now—that every effort had been sterile6, every hour wasted, every step he had taken from Brookhollow to Paris—to the very doorstep where his duty ended—had been taken in vain.
It seemed to him in his anger and humiliation7 that never had any man been so derided8, so heartlessly mocked by the gods.
And now, as he sat there behind lowered blinds in the 291cool half-light of the music-room, he could feel the hot blood of resentment9 and chagrin10 in his cheeks.
“Nobody could have foreseen it,” repeated Rue Carew in a pretty, bewildered voice. “And if the Princess Naïa had no suspicions, how could I harbour any—or how could you?”
“I’ve been sufficiently11 tricked—or I thought I had been—to be on my guard. But it seems not. I ought never to have been caught in such a disgusting trap—such a simple, silly, idiotic12 cage! But—good Lord! How on earth was a man to suspect anything so—so naturally planned and executed—so simply done. It was an infernal masterpiece, Rue. But—that is no consolation13 to a man who has been made to appear like a monkey!”
The Princess, entering, overheard; and she seated herself and looked tranquilly14 at Neeland as he resumed his place on the sofa.
“You were not to blame, Jim,” she said. “It was my fault. I had warning enough at the railroad terminal when an accident to my car was reported to me by the control through you.” She added, calmly: “There was no accident.”
“No accident?” exclaimed Neeland, astonished.
“None at all. My new footman, who followed us to the waiting salon15 for incoming trains, returned to my chauffeur16, Caron, saying that he was to go back to the garage and await orders. I have just called the garage and I had Caron on the wire. There was no accident; he has not been injured; and—the new footman has disappeared!”
“It was a clear case of treachery?” exclaimed Neeland.
“Absolutely a plot. The pretended official at the 292terminal control was an accomplice17 of my footman, of the taxicab driver, of the pretended street-cleaners—and of whom else I can, perhaps, imagine.”
“Did you call the terminal control?”
“I did. The official in charge and the starter had seen no such accident; had given no such information. Some masquerader in uniform must have intercepted18 you, Jim.”
“I found him coming toward me on the sidewalk not far from the kiosque. He was in uniform; I never dreamed he was not the genuine thing.”
“There is no blame attached to you––”
“Naïa, it actually sickens me to discover how little sense I possess. I’ve been through enough to drive both suspicion and caution into this wooden head of mine––”
“What have you been through, Jim?” asked the Princess calmly.
“I’ll tell you. I didn’t play a brilliant rôle, I’m sorry to admit. Not common sense but sheer luck pulled me through as far as your own doorstep. And there,” he added disgustedly, “the gods no doubt grew tired of such an idiot, and they handed me what was coming to me.”
He was so thoroughly19 and so boyishly ashamed and angry with himself that a faint smile flitted over the Princess Naïa’s lips.
“Proceed, James,” she said.
“All right. Only first may I ask—who is Ilse Dumont?”
For a moment the Princess sat silent, expressionless, intent on the man whose clear, inquiring eyes still questioned her.
The Princess finally answered with a question:293
“Did she cause you any trouble, Jim?”
“Every bit I had was due to her. Also—and here’s a paradox—I shouldn’t be here now if Ilse Dumont had not played square with me. Who is she?”
The Princess Naïa did not reply immediately. Instead, she dropped one silken knee over the other, lighted a cigarette, and sat for a few moments gazing into space. Then:
“Ilse Dumont,” she said, “is a talented and exceedingly pretty young woman who was born in Alsace of one German and one thoroughly Germanised parent.
“She played two seasons in Chicago in light opera under another name. She had much talent, an acceptable voice and she became a local favourite.”
The Princess looked at her cigarette; continued speaking as though addressing it:
“She sang at the Opéra Comique here in Paris the year before last and last year. Her rôles were minor20 ones. Early this spring she abruptly21 broke her contract with the management and went to New York.”
Neeland said bluntly:
“Ilse Dumont is an agent in the service of the Turkish Government.”
The Princess nodded.
“Did you know it, Naïa?”
“I began to suspect it recently.”
“May I ask how?”
The Princess glanced at Rue and smiled:
“To Ilse Dumont. Minna Minti is her stage name,” said the Princess.
Neeland turned and looked at Rue, who, conscious 294of his excitement, flushed brightly, yet never suspecting what he was about to say.
The Princess said quietly:
“Yes, tell her, Jim. It is better she should know. Until now it has not been necessary to mention the matter, or I should have done so.”
Rue, surprised, still prettily24 flushed with expectancy25, looked with new curiosity from one to the other.
Neeland said:
“Ilse Dumont, known on the stage as Minna Minti, is the divorced wife of Eddie Brandes.”
At the mention of a name so long hidden away, buried in her memory, and almost forgotten, the girl quivered and straightened up, as though an electric shock had passed through her body.
Then a burning colour flooded her face as at the swift stroke of a lash26, and her grey eyes glimmered27 with the starting tears.
“You’ll have to know it, darling,” said the Princess in a low voice. “There is no reason why you should not; it no longer can touch you. Don’t you know that?”
“Y-yes––” Ruhannah’s slowly drooping28 head was lifted again; held high; and the wet brilliancy slowly dried in her steady eyes.
“Before I tell you,” continued Neeland, “what happened to me through Ilse Dumont, I must tell you what occurred in the train on my way to Paris.... May I have a cigarette, Princess Naïa?”
“At your elbow in that silver box.”
Rue Carew lighted it for him with a smile, but her hand still trembled.
“First,” he said, “tell me what particular significance those papers in the olive-wood box have. Then I can 295tell you more intelligently what happened to me since I went to Brookhollow to find them.”
“They are the German plans for the fortification of the mainland commanding the Dardanelles, and for the forts dominating the Gallipoli peninsula.”
“Yes, I know that. But of what interest to England or France or Russia––”
“If there is to be war, can’t you understand the importance to us of those plans?” asked the Princess in a low, quiet voice.
“To—‘us’?” he repeated.
“Yes, to us. I am Russian, am I not?”
“Yes. I now understand how very Russian you are, Princess. But what has Turkey––”
“What is Turkey?”
“An empire––”
“No. A German province.”
“I did not know––”
“That is what the Ottoman Empire is today,” continued the Princess Mistchenka, “a Turkish province fortified29 by Berlin, governed from Berlin through a Germanised Turk, Enver Pasha; the army organised, drilled, equipped, officered, and paid by the Kaiser Wilhelm; every internal resource and revenue and development and projected development mortgaged to Germany and under German control; and the Sultan a nobody!”
“I did not know it,” repeated Neeland.
“It is the truth, mon ami. It is inevitable31 that Turkey fights if Germany goes to war. England, France, Russia know it. Ask yourself, then, how enormous to us the value of those plans—tentative, sketchy32, perhaps, yet the inception33 and foundation of those German-made and German-armed fortifications which today 296line the Dardanelles and the adjacent waters within the sphere of Ottoman influence!”
“So that is why you wanted them,” he said with an unhappy glance at Rue. “What idiotic impulse prompted me to put them back in the box I can’t imagine. You saw me do it, there in the taxicab.”
Ruhannah said:
“The chauffeur saw you, too. He was looking at you in his steering34 mirror; I saw his face. But it never entered my mind that anything except idle curiosity possessed35 him.”
“Perhaps,” said the Princess to Neeland, “what you did with the papers saved your life. Had that chauffeur not seen you place them in the box, he might have shot and robbed you as you left the cab, merely on the chance of your having them on your person.”
There was a silence; then Neeland said:
“This is a fine business! As far as I can see murder seems to be the essence of the contract.”
“It is often incidental to it,” said the Princess Mistchenka serenely36. “But you and Ruhannah will soon be out of this affair.”
“I?” said the girl, surprised.
“I think so.”
“Why, dear?”
“I think there is going to be war. And if there is, France will be concerned. And that means that you and Ruhannah, too, will have to leave France.”
“But you?” asked the girl, anxiously.
“I expect to remain. How long can you stay here, Jim?”
Neeland cast an involuntary glance at Rue as he replied:297
“I intended to take the next steamer. Why? Can I be of any service to you, Princess Naïa?”
The Princess Mistchenka let her dark eyes rest on him for a second, then on Rue Carew.
“I was thinking,” she said, “that you might take Ruhannah back with you if war is declared.”
“Back to America!” exclaimed the girl. “But where am I to go in America? What am I to do there? I—I didn’t think I was quite ready to earn my own living”—looking anxiously at the Princess Naïa—“do you think so, dear?”
The Princess said:
“I wanted you to remain. And you must not worry, darling. Some day I shall want you back–– But if there is to be war in Europe you cannot remain here.”
“Why not?”
“In the first place, only useful people would be wanted in Paris––”
“But, Naïa, darling! Couldn’t I be useful to you?” The girl jumped up from the sofa and came and knelt down by the Princess Mistchenka, looking up into her face.
The Princess laid aside her cigarette and put both hands on Rue’s shoulders, looking her gravely, tenderly in the eyes.
“Dear,” she said, “I want James Neeland to hear this, too. For it is partly a confession37.
“When I first saw you, Rue, I was merely sorry for you, and willing to oblige Jim Neeland by keeping an eye on you until you were settled somewhere here in Paris.
“Before we landed I liked you. And, because I saw wonderful possibilities in the little country girl who shared my stateroom, I deliberately38 made up my mind 298to develop you, make use of your excellent mind, your quick intelligence, your amazing capacity for absorbing everything that is best, and your very unusual attractions for my own purposes. I meant—to train you—educate you—to aid me.”
There was a silence; the girl looked up at her, flushed, intent, perplexed39; the Princess Mistchenka, her hands on the girl’s shoulders, looked back at her out of grave and beautiful dark eyes.
“That is the truth,” said the Princess. “My intention was to develop you along the lines which I follow as a—profession; teach you to extract desirable information through your wit, intelligence, and beauty—using your youth as a mask. But I—I can’t do it––” She shook her head slightly. “Because I’ve lost my heart to you.... And the business I follow is a—a rotten game.”
Again silence fell among those three; Rue, kneeling at the elder woman’s feet, looked up into her face in silence; Neeland, his elbows resting on his knees, leaned slightly forward from the sofa, watching them.
“I’ll help you, if you wish,” said Rue Carew.
“Thank you, dear. No.”
“Let me. I owe you everything since I have been here––”
“No, dear. What I said to you—and to James—is true. It’s a merciless, stealthy, treacherous40 business; it’s dangerous to a woman, body and soul. It is one long lifetime of experience with treachery, with greed, with baser passions, with all that is ignoble41 in mankind.
“There is no reason for you to enter such a circle; no excuse for it; no duty urges you; no patriotism42 incites43 you to such self-sacrifice; no memory of wrong done to your nearest and dearest inspires you to 299dedicate your life to aiding—if only a little, in the downfall and destruction of the nation and the people who encompassed44 it!”
The Princess Mistchenka’s dark eyes began to gleam, and her beautiful face lost its colour; and she took Rue’s little hands in both of hers and held them tightly against her breast.
“Had I not lost my heart to you, perhaps I should not have hesitated to develop and make use of you.
“You are fitted for the rôle I might wish you to play. Men are fascinated by you; your intelligence charms; your youth and innocence45, worn as a mask, might make you invaluable46 to the Chancellerie which is interested in the information I provide for it.
“But, Rue, I have come to understand that I cannot do this thing. No. Go back to your painting and your clever drawing and your music; any one of these is certain to give you a living in time. And in that direction alone your happiness lies.”
She leaned forward and kissed the girl’s hair where it was fine and blond, close to the snowy forehead.
“If war comes,” she said, “you and James will have to go home, like two good children when the curfew rings.”
She laughed, pushed Rue away, lighted another cigarette, and, casting a glance partly ironical47, partly provocative48, at the good-looking young man on the sofa, said:
“As for you, James, I don’t worry about you. Impudence49 will always carry you through where diplomacy50 fails you. Now, tell me all about these three unpleasant sporting characters who occupied the train with you.”
Neeland laughed.300
“It seems that a well-known gambler in New York, called Captain Quint, is backing them; and somebody higher up is backing Quint––”
“Probably the Turkish Embassy at Washington,” interposed the Princess, coolly. “I’m sorry, Jim; pray go on.”
“The Turkish Embassy?” he repeated, surprised that she should guess.
“Yes; and the German Embassy is backing that. There you are, Jim. That is the sequence as far as your friend, Captain Quint. Now, who comes next in the scale?”
“This man—Brandes—and the little chalk-faced creature, Stull; and the other one, with the fox face—Doc Curfoot.”
“I see. And then?”
“Then, as I gathered, there are several gentlemen wearing Teutonic names—who are to go into partnership51 with them—one named Kestner, one called Theodore Weishelm, and an exceedingly oily Eurasian gentleman with whom I became acquainted on the Volhynia—one Karl Breslau––”
“Breslau!” exclaimed the Princess. “Now I understand.”
“Who is he, Princess?”
“He is the most notorious international spy in the world—a protean52 individual with aliases53, professions, and experiences sufficient for an entire jail full of criminals. His father was a German Jew; his mother a Circassian girl; he was educated in Germany, France, Italy, and England. He has been a member of the socialist54 group in the Reichstag under one name, a member of the British Parliament under another; he did dirty work for Abdul Hamid; dirtier for Enver Bey.
301
“He is here, there, everywhere; he turns up in Brazil one day, and is next in evidence in Moscow. What he is so eternally about God only knows: what Chancellery he serves, which he betrays, is a question that occupies many uneasy minds this very hour, I fancy.
“But of this I, personally, am now satisfied; Karl Breslau is responsible for the robbery of your papers today, and the entire affair was accomplished55 under his direction!”
“And yet I know,” said Neeland, “that after he and Kestner tried to blow up the captain’s cabin and the bridge aboard the Volhynia yesterday morning at a little after two o’clock, he and Kestner must have jumped overboard in the Mersey River off Liverpool.”
“Without doubt a boat was watching your ship.”
“All they had to do was to touch at some dock, go ashore57, and telegraph to their men here,” said the Princess.
“That, evidently, is what they did,” admitted Neeland ruefully.
“Certainly. And by this time they may be here, too. They could do it. I haven’t any doubt that Breslau, Kestner, and Ilse Dumont are here in Paris at this moment.”
“Where?”
“In the Hôtel des Bulgars, rue Vilna. That’s where they are to operate a gaming house. That is where they expect to pluck and fleece the callow and the aged30 who may have anything of political importance about them worth stealing. That is their plan. Agents, 302officials, employees of all consulates59, legations, and embassies are what they’re really after. I heard them discussing it there in the train today.”
The Princess had fallen very silent, musing60, watching Neeland’s animated61 face as he detailed62 his knowledge of what had occurred.
“Why not notify the police?” he added. “There might be a chance to recover the box and the papers.”
The Princess shook her pretty head.
“We have to be very careful how we use the police, James. It seems simple, but it is not. I can’t explain the reasons, but we usually pit spy against spy, and keep very clear of the police. Otherwise,” she added, smiling, “there would be the deuce to pay among the embassies and legations.” She added: “It’s a most depressing situation; I don’t exactly know what to do.... I have letters to write, anyway––”
She rose, turned to Rue and took both her hands:
“No; you must go back to New York and to your painting and music if there is to be war in Europe. But you have had a taste of what goes on in certain circles here; you have seen what a chain of consequences ensue from a chance remark of a young girl at a dinner table.”
“Yes.”
“It’s amusing, isn’t it? A careless and innocent word to that old busybody, Ahmed Mirka Pasha, at my table—that began it. Then another word to Izzet Bey. And I had scarcely time to realise what had happened—barely time to telegraph James in New York—before their entire underground machinery63 was set in motion to seize those wretched papers in Brookhollow!”
Neeland said:303
“You don’t know even yet, Princess, how amazingly fast that machinery worked.”
“Tell me now, James. I have time enough to write my warning since it is already too late.” And she seated herself on the sofa and drew Ruhannah down beside her.
“Listen, dear,” she said with pretty mockery, “here is a most worthy64 young man who is simply dying to let us know how picturesque65 a man can be when he tries to.”
Neeland laughed:
“The only trouble with me,” he retorted, “is that I’ve a rather hopeless habit of telling the truth. Otherwise there’d be some chance for me as a hero in what I’m going to tell you.”
And he began with his first encounter with Ilse Dumont in Rue Carew’s house at Brookhollow. After he had been speaking for less than a minute, Rue Carew’s hands tightened66 in the clasp of the Princess Naïa, who glanced at the girl and noticed that she had lost her colour.
And Neeland continued his partly playful, partly serious narrative67 of “moving accidents by flood and field,” aware of the girl’s deep, breathless interest, moved by it, and, conscious of it, the more inclined to avoid the picturesque and heroic, and almost ashamed to talk of himself at all under the serious beauty of the girl’s clear eyes.
But he could scarcely tell his tale and avoid mentioning himself; he was the centre of it all, the focus of the darts68 of Fate, and there was no getting away from what happened to himself.
So he made the melodrama69 a comedy, and the moments of deadly peril70 he treated lightly. And one thing 304he avoided altogether, and that was how he had kissed Ilse Dumont.
When he finished his account of his dreadful situation in the stateroom of Ilse Dumont, and how at the last second her unerring shots had shattered the bomb clock, cut the guy-rope, and smashed the water-jug which deluged71 the burning fuses, he added with a very genuine laugh:
“If only some photographer had taken a few hundred feet of film for me I could retire on an income in a year and never do another stroke of honest work!”
The Princess smiled, mechanically, but Rue Carew dropped her white face on the Princess Naïa’s shoulder as though suddenly fatigued72.
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1
luncheon
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| n.午宴，午餐，便宴 | |
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outrage
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| n.暴行，侮辱，愤怒；vt.凌辱，激怒 | |
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rue
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| n.懊悔，芸香，后悔；v.后悔，悲伤，懊悔 | |
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astonishment
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| n.惊奇，惊异 | |
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mortification
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| n.耻辱，屈辱 | |
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sterile
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| adj.不毛的，不孕的，无菌的，枯燥的，贫瘠的 | |
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humiliation
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derided
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| v.取笑，嘲笑( deride的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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chagrin
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| n.懊恼；气愤；委屈 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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idiotic
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| adj.白痴的 | |
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consolation
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| n.安慰，慰问 | |
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tranquilly
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| adv. 宁静地 | |
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salon
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| n.[法]沙龙；客厅；营业性的高级服务室 | |
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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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accomplice
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| n.从犯，帮凶，同谋 | |
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intercepted
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| 拦截( intercept的过去式和过去分词 )； 截住； 截击； 拦阻 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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minor
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| adj.较小(少)的，较次要的；n.辅修学科；vi.辅修 | |
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abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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astounded
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| v.使震惊(astound的过去式和过去分词)；愕然；愕；惊讶 | |
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prettily
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| adv.优美地；可爱地 | |
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expectancy
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| n.期望，预期，（根据概率统计求得）预期数额 | |
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lash
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| v.系牢；鞭打；猛烈抨击；n.鞭打；眼睫毛 | |
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glimmered
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| v.发闪光，发微光( glimmer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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fortified
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| adj. 加强的 | |
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aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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sketchy
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| adj.写生的，写生风格的，概略的 | |
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inception
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| n.开端，开始，取得学位 | |
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steering
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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serenely
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| adv.安详地，宁静地，平静地 | |
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confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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perplexed
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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ignoble
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| adj.不光彩的，卑鄙的；可耻的 | |
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patriotism
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| n.爱国精神，爱国心，爱国主义 | |
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incites
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| 刺激，激励，煽动( incite的第三人称单数 ) | |
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encompassed
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| v.围绕( encompass的过去式和过去分词 )；包围；包含；包括 | |
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innocence
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| n.无罪；天真；无害 | |
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invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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ironical
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| adj.讽刺的，冷嘲的 | |
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provocative
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| adj.挑衅的，煽动的，刺激的，挑逗的 | |
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impudence
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| n.厚颜无耻；冒失；无礼 | |
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diplomacy
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| n.外交；外交手腕，交际手腕 | |
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partnership
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| n.合作关系，伙伴关系 | |
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protean
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| adj.反复无常的；变化自如的 | |
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53
aliases
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| n.别名，化名( alias的名词复数 ) | |
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54
socialist
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| n.社会主义者；adj.社会主义的 | |
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accomplished
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| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
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smack
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| vt.拍，打，掴；咂嘴；vi.含有…意味；n.拍 | |
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ashore
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| adv.在(向)岸上，上岸 | |
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wager
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| n.赌注；vt.押注，打赌 | |
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consulates
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| n.领事馆( consulate的名词复数 ) | |
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60
musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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detailed
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| adj.详细的，详尽的，极注意细节的，完全的 | |
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machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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tightened
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| 收紧( tighten的过去式和过去分词 )； （使）变紧； （使）绷紧； 加紧 | |
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narrative
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| n.叙述，故事；adj.叙事的，故事体的 | |
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68
darts
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| n.掷飞镖游戏；飞镖( dart的名词复数 )；急驰，飞奔v.投掷，投射( dart的第三人称单数 )；向前冲，飞奔 | |
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melodrama
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| n.音乐剧；情节剧 | |
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peril
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| n.(严重的)危险；危险的事物 | |
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71
deluged
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| v.使淹没( deluge的过去式和过去分词 )；淹没；被洪水般涌来的事物所淹没；穷于应付 | |
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fatigued
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| adj. 疲乏的 | |
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