CHAPTER XIV
THE PLOT THICKENS
Presently, summoned by the hostess, I went to my lonely meal in a moodthat nobody on earth had cause to envy me. One thing was certain: Shouldit ever be disclosed that Miss Esme Falconer was not a spy, I shouldlack courage to go on living. Remembering the coolly brazen line I hadtaken and the assumptions she had drawn from it, I could think of nodesert wide enough to hide my confusion, no pit sufficiently deep toshelter my utterly crestfallen head.
In any case, I had not managed my attack at all triumphantly. From thefirst skirmish the adversary had retired with all the honors on herside. Carrying the matter with a high hand, she had dazed me into briefinaction, and then, as I gave signs of rally, had retreated in whatto say the least was a highly strategic way. Well, let her go for themoment! She could scarcely escape me. I would see the thing through, Itold myself with growing stubbornness; but I didn't feel that the doingof a civic duty was what it is cracked up to be. Not at all!
I felt the need of a cocktail with a kick to it. But I did not get one.However, the cabbage soup was eatable, if primitive; and, in fact, nopart of the dinner could be called distinctly bad.
Having finished my coffee, I went outside feeling more cheerful. It wasdark now. A lantern swinging from the entrance cast flickering dartsof light about the courtyard, the rough paving-stones, the odd oldgalleries and stairs. Upstairs a candle shone through the window of MissFalconer's room. In the kitchen by the great chimney place I could see aleather-clad chauffeur eating, the same fellow that had driven the bluecar from the rue St.-Dominique; and while I watched, madame emerged,bearing the girl's dinner tray, which with much groaning and panting shecarried up the winding stairs.
It was foolish of Miss Falconer, I thought, to insist on this comedy.She might better have dined with me, heard what I had to say, andyielded with a good grace. However, let her have her dinner in peaceand solitude, I resolved magnanimously. The moon had come out, the starstoo; I would take a stroll and mature my plans.
Lighting a cigarette, I lounged into the street and addressed myselfforthwith to an unhurried tour of Bleau. I was gone perhaps an hour, nota very lengthy interval, but one in which a variety of things can occur,as I was to learn. My walk led me outside the village, down a water pathbetween trees, and even to the famous mill, which was charming. Had Ibeen of the fraternity of artists, as I had claimed, I should haveasked no better fate than to come there with canvas and brushes andimmortalize the quiet beauty of the scene.
A rustic bridge invited me, and I stood and smoked upon it, listeningto the ripple of the half-golden, half-shadowy water, watching therevolutions of the green old wheel. I had laid out my plan of action. Onmy return to the inn I would insist on an interview with Miss Falconer,and would tell her that either she must return with me to Paris or thatthe police of Bleau--I supposed it had police--must take a hand.
My metamorphosis into a hero of adventure, racing about the country,visiting places I had never heard of, coolly assuming the controlof international spy plots, brutally determining to kidnap women ifnecessary, was astounding to say the least. That dinner in the St. Ivesrestaurant rose before me, and I heard again Dunny's charge that Iwas growing stodgy with advancing years. Suppose he should see menow, involved in these insane developments? He might call me variousunflattering things, but not stodgy--not with truth. I chuckledhalf-heartedly, my last chuckle, by the by, for a long time. Unknown tome and unsuspected, the darker, more deadly side of the adventure wassteadily drawing near.
When I entered the courtyard of the Three Kings, the door of the garagestood open, and the first object my eyes met within it was the pursuinggray car. I stared at the thing, transfixed. In the march of events Ihad forgotten it. I was still gaping at it when madame came hurryingforth.
"I have been watching," she informed me, "for monsieur's return. Friendsof his arrived here soon after he left the house."
"The deuce they did!" I thought, dumb-founded. I judged prudenceadvisable.
"They have names, these friends?" I inquired warily.
"Without doubt, Monsieur," she agreed, "but they did not offer them; andwho am I to ask questions of the officers of France? They are bound on amission, plainly. In time of war those so engaged talk little. They haveeaten, and they have gone to their rooms, off the gallery to thewest. And the fourth of their party--he alone wears no uniform; he isdoubtless of monsieur's land--asked of me a description of my guests,and exclaimed in great delight, saying that monsieur was his old friend,whom he had hoped to find here and with whom he must have speech thevery moment that monsieur should return. I know no more."
It was enough.
"He's mistaken," I said shortly. For the moment I really thought thatthis must be the case.
Her broad, good-natured face was all astonishment.
"But, Monsieur," she burst forth, "he even told me, this gentleman, thatsuch might be monsieur's reply! And in that event he commanded me to begmonsieur to walk upstairs, since he had a thing of importance to revealto monsieur--one best said behind closed doors!"
I stared at her, my head humming like a top. Then, scrutinizingly,I looked about the court. The light in Miss Falconer's room had beenextinguished. Did that have some significance? Was she lying perduebecause these people had come? In the rooms opening from the westgallery above the street entrance I could see moving shadows. The graycar had arrived, and it bore three officers of France for passengers.What could this mean?
Of course, whoever had left the message had mistaken me for aconfederate. I could not know any of the new arrivals; it was equallyimpossible that they could know me. None the less, with a slight,unaccustomed thrill of excitement, I resolved to accept the invitationas if in absolute good faith. It was a first-class chance to get insidethose rooms, to use my eyes, to sound this affair a little, to learnwhether these men were the girl's pursuers. As army officers they couldscarcely be her accomplices. Would they forestall me by arresting her,by taking her back to Paris? It was astonishing how distasteful I foundthe idea of that.
I told madame that I thought I knew, now, who the gentlemen were. Iclimbed the west staircase with determination and knocked on the door ofthe first room that had a light. A voice from within, vaguely familiar,bade me enter, I did so immediately and closed the door.
Through an inner entrance I saw three men grouped about a table inthe next room, all smoking cigarettes, all clad in horizon blue. Theyglanced up at me for a moment, and then, politely, they looked away. Buta fourth man, who had stood beside them, came striding out to meet me,and I confronted Mr. John Van Blarcom face to face.
Officers fresh from the trenches have told me that one can lose throughsheer accustomedness all horror at the grim sights of warfare, allconsciousness of ear-splitting noises, all interest in gas and shrapneland bursting shells. In the same way one can lose all capacity forastonishment, I suppose. I don't think I manifested much surprise atthis unexpected meeting; and I heard myself remarking quite coolly thatthere had been a mistake, that I had been told downstairs that a friendof mine was here.
"That's right, Mr. Bayne," cut in Van Blarcom shortly. "I've been afriend of yours clear through, and I'm acting as one now. Just a minute,sir, please!"
He had shut the door between ourselves and the officers, and now hewas drawing the shutters close. Coming back into the room, he seatedhimself, and motioned me toward a chair, which I didn't take. Hisauthoritative manner was, I must say, not unimpressive. And he knewhow to arrange a rather crude stage-setting; the room, with all air andsound excluded, seemed tense and breathless; the one dim candle on thetable lent a certain solemnity to the scene.
"Look here, Mr. Bayne," he began bluffly, "last time you spoke to meyou told me to--Well, we'll let bygones by bygones; I guess you rememberwhat you said. You don't like me, and I'm not wasting any love on you;as far as you're personally concerned, I'd just as soon see you hang!But I've got to think of the United States. I'm in the service, and itdoesn't do her any good t
o have her citizens get in bad with France."
Standing there, gazing at him with an air of bored inquiry, behind mymask of indifference I racked my brain. What did he want of me? Whatdid he want of Miss Falconer? What was he doing in this military galley?Hopeless queries, without the key to the puzzle!
"Well?" I said.
"I don't ask you," he went on crisply, "what you're doing here--"
"You had better not!" I snapped. "What tomfoolery is this? Do you thinkyou are a police officer heckling a crook? And why should you ask mesuch a question any more than I should ask you?"
He grinned meaningly.
"Well," he commented, "there might be reasons. I'm here on business,with papers in order, and three French officers to answer for me; butyou're a kind of a funny person to make a bee-line for a place likeBleau. An inn like this doesn't seem your style, somehow. I'd say theRitz was more your type. And while we're at it, did you go to the Paris_Prefecture_ this morning, like all foreigners are told to, and showyour passport, and get your police card? Have you got it with you? Ifyou have you stepped pretty lively, considering you left Paris by threeo'clock."
"If any one in authority asks me that," I said, "I'll answer him. Icertainly don't propose to answer you." My arms were folded; I lookedhaughtily indifferent; but it was pure bluff. The only paper I had withme was my passport. What the dickens could I do if he turned nasty alongsuch lines.
"As I was saying," he resumed, unruffled, "I'm not asking you why you'rehere--because I know. I've got to hand it to you that you're a dead-gamesport. Most men's hair would have turned white at Gibraltar after thefuss you had. And here you are again--in the ring for all you're worth!"
"I suppose you mean something," I said wearily, "but it's too subtle andcryptic. Please use words of one syllable."
He nodded tolerantly. Leaning back, thumbs in his waistcoat-pockets,swelling visibly, he was an offensive picture of self-satisfaction andcontent.
"You can't get away with it, Mr. Bayne," he declared impressively."You've taken on too much; I'm giving it to you straight. You can do alot with money and good clothes, and being born a gentleman and actinglike one, and having friends to help you; but you can't buck the FrenchGovernment and the French army and the French police. In a little affairof this sort you wouldn't have a leg to stand on. Even your ambassadorwould turn you down cold. He wouldn't dare do anything else. This is thelast call for dinner in the dining-car, for you. Last time I wantedto tell you the facts of the case you wouldn't listen. Will you listennow?"
I considered.
"Yes," I said, "I'll listen. Go ahead!"
He foundered for a moment, and then plunged in boldly.
"About this young lady who's brought you and me to Bleau. Oh, youneedn't lift your eyebrows, much as to say, 'What young lady?' You knowshe's here, and I know it; and she knows I've come and has put her lightout and is shaking in her shoes over there. I can swear to that. Well, Iwant to tell you I never started out to get her; I just stumbled acrossher on the steamer by a fluke. But I kept my eyes open and I saw alot of things; and when I got to Paris to-day I told them at the_Prefecture_. You can see what they thought of the business by my beinghere. I wasn't keen to come. I've got my own work to do. But theywant me to identify her; and they've sent three officers with me--notpolicemen, you'll notice, because this is an army matter, and before wemake an end of it we'll be in the army zone."
I don't know just what he saw in my eyes; but it seemed to bother him.He fidgeted a little; as he approached the crucial point, his gazeevaded mine.
"Now, then, we'll come down to brass tacks, Mr. Bayne," said he. "Idon't know what kind of story the girl told you; but I know it wasn'tthe truth or you wouldn't be here. That's sure. She's a German agent;she's come to get the Germans some papers that they want about as bad asanything under heaven. There's one man who tried the job already. Hegot killed for his pains; but he hid the papers before he died, and sheknows where; and she's on her way to get them and carry the businessthrough. I don't say she hasn't plenty of courage. Why, she's gone upagainst the whole of France; but I guess you're not very anxious to bemixed up in this underhand, spying sort of matter, eh?"
My hands were doubling themselves with automatic vigor. Iwanted--consumedly--to knock the fellow down. However, I controlledmyself.
"What's your offer?" I asked.
"It's this." He was obviously relieved, positively swelling in histolerant, good-humored patronage. "I said once before I was sorry foryou, and that still goes; we won't be hard on you if we have got thewhip-hand, Mr. Bayne. You just stay in your room to-morrow until she'sgone and we're gone, and you needn't be afraid your name will everfigure in this thing. I've made it all right with my friends in the nextroom. They know a pretty girl can fool a man sometimes, and they've gota soft spot for Americans, like all the Frenchies here. Take it from me,you'd better draw out quietly, instead of being arrested, tried, shot,or imprisoned maybe--or being sent home with an unproved charge hangingover you, and having all your friends fight shy of you as a suspectedpro-German. Isn't that so?"
"You certainly," I agreed, "draw a most uninviting picture. I'll have toconsider this, Mr. Van Blarcom, if you'll give me time?"
"Sure!" with his hearty response. "Take as long as you like to think itover; I know how you'll decide. You don't belong in a thing likethis anyhow; you never did. It's bound to end in a nasty mess for allconcerned. There's a train goes to Paris to-morrow morning at eleven.You just take it, sir, and forget this business, and you'll thank me allyour life."
The Firefly of France Page 14