CHAPTER XX
INTRODUCING HERR FRANZ VON BLENHEIM
The words of Franz von Blenheim seemed to fill the hall and reechofrom the walls and arches, deafening me, leaving me stunned as if byan earthquake or by a flash of lightning from clear skies. Yet I neverthough of doubting them. Comatose as my state was, slowly as my brainwas working, I recognized vaguely how many features of the mystery, bothpast and present, these words explained.
It was odd, but never once had it occurred to me that Van Blarcom mightbe a German. He himself, I began to realize, had taken care of that.With considerable acumen he had filled every one of our brief interviewswith vigorous denunciations of somebody else, dark hints as to intriguesthat surrounded me and might enmesh me, and solemn warnings and prudentcounsels, which had brilliantly served his turn. He had kept me so busysuspecting Miss Falconer--at the thought I could have beaten my headagainst the wall in token of my abject shame--that my doubts hadnever glanced in his direction; a most humiliating confession, since Icouldn't deny, reviewing the past in this new light, that circumstanceshad afforded me every opportunity to guess the truth.
There was no time, however, for dwelling on my deficiencies. The nexthalf hour would be an uncommonly lively one, I felt quite sure. I mightcall the thing bizarre, fantastic; I might dub it an extravaganza; thefact remained that I was shut up in this lonely spot with four entirelyable-bodied Germans and must match wits with them over some affairthat apparently was of international consequence; for if it had beena twopenny business, Herr von Blenheim, the star agent of the kaiser,would never have thought it worth his pains.
With all my fighting spirit rising to meet the odds against us, I cast aspeculative eye over the Teutons, who had now dissolved their group.Van Blarcom himself--Blenheim, rather--descended in a leisurely fashionwhile one of his friends, remaining on the staircase, fixed me with alook of intentness almost ominous and the other two placed themselvesas if casually before the door. They were stalwart, well set-up men,I acknowledged as I surveyed them. Though not bad at what our Frenchfriends call _la boxe_, I was outnumbered. It was obviously a case ofstrategy--but of what sort?
A much defaced table, flanked with a few battered chairs, stood near me,and with a premonition that I should want two hands presently, I set mycandle there. Then I drew a chair forward and turned to the girl withoutward coolness.
"Please sit down, Miss Falconer," I invited. I wanted time.
She inclined her head and obeyed me very quietly. She was not afraid; Isaw it with a rush of pride. As she sat erect, her head thrown back,on gloved hand resting on the table, she was a picture of spirit andsteadiness and courage. If I had needed strength I should have found itin the fact that her eyes, oddly darkened as always when her errand wasthreatened did not rest on our captors, but turned toward me.
"We'll all sit down," Franz von Blenheim agreed most amiably. Itevidently amused him to retain the late Mr. Van Blarcom's dialect andair. "We can fix this business up in no time; so why not be sociable?"He strolled to a chair and sank into it and motioned me to do the same.
"Thanks," I returned, not complying. "If you don't mind, I'd like firstto untie that woman. I confess to a queer sort of prejudice againstseeing women bound and gagged. In fact I feel so strongly on the subjectthat it might spoil our whole conference for me." I took a step towardthe shadowy figure of Marie-Jeanne.
Blenheim did not move, but his eyes seemed to narrow and darken.
"Just leave her alone for the present. She is too fond ofshrieking--might interrupt our argument," he declared. "And seehere, Mr. Bayne," he added, warned by my manner, "I want to call yourattention to the gentleman on the stairs, my friend Schwartzmann. He'sa crack shot, none better, and he has got you covered. Hadn't you bettersit down and have a friendly chat?"
Though the stairs were dim, I could see something glittering in the handof the person mentioned, who was impersonating for the evening a dashingyoung captain of the general staff. My fingers strayed toward my pocketand my own revolver. Then I pried them away, temporarily, and took aprovisional seat.
"That's sensible," Franz von Blenheim approved me blandly. "Now, MissFalconer, you know what I'm here for, isn't that so? Just hand me thosepapers and you'll be as free as air. I'll take myself off; you'll neversee me again probably. That's a fair bargain, isn't it? What do yousay?"
I was sitting close to the girl, so close that her soft furs brushedme and I could feel the flutter of her breath against my cheek. AtBlenheim's proposition I glanced at her. She was measuring him steadily.Then she looked at me, and her eyes seemed to hold some message that Icould not read.
"Perhaps, Miss Falconer," I interposed, "you have not quite grasped thesituation." I was sparring for time; she wanted to convey something tome, I was sure. "It is rather complicated. This gentleman has turnedout to be a well-known agent of the kaiser. He was traveling on the _Red'Italia_, I gather, on a forged passport, and had helped himself to mybaggage as the most convenient way of smuggling some papers to the otherside."
He grinned assentingly.
"You owe me one for that," he owned. "You see, it was my second tripon that line, and I thought they might have me spotted; I had a lot ofthings to carry home,--reports, information, confidential letters, and Iconcluded they would be safer with a nice, innocent young man like you.It didn't work, as things went. It was just a little too clever. But ifyou hadn't mixed yourself up with this young lady, and tossed packagesoverboard for her under the noses of the stewards, and got yourselfsuspected and your baggage searched, I should have turned the trick!"
His share in the tangled episode on board the steamer was unfolding. Iunderstood now why he had sprung to my rescue in the salon when I wasaccused. Naturally he had not wanted my traps searched, considering whatwas in them.
"As you say, you were a little too clever," I agreed.
His eyes glinted viciously.
"Well, it's no use crying over spilt milk," he retorted; "and besides,the papers you are going to hand me to-night will even up the score. Itwas a piece of luck, my running across Miss Falconer on the liner. Ofcourse the minute I heard her name I knew what she was crossing for."The dickens he did! "All I had to do was to follow her, and by the timewe reached Bleau I had guessed enough to come ahead of her. But I'lladmit, Mr. Bayne, now it's all over, it made me nervous to have youpopping up at every turn! I began to think that you suspected me--thatyou were trailing me. If you had, you know, I shouldn't have stood achance on earth. You could have said a word to the first gendarme youmet and had me laid by the heels and ended it. That was why I keptwarning you off. But I needn't have worried. You drank in everything Itold you as innocent as a babe!"
If he wanted revenge for my last remark, he had it. I looked at thegirl beside me, so watchfully composed and fearless, then at thefixed, terrified glare of the motionless Marie-Jeanne. With a littlerudimentary intelligence on my part this situation would have beenspared us.
"Yes," I acknowledged bitterly; "I did."
"Except for that," he grinned, "it went like clockwork. There wasn'teven enough danger in the thing to give it spice. Do you know, thereisn't a capital in Europe where I can't get disguises, money, passportswithin twelve hours if I want them. Oh, you have a bit to learn aboutus, you people on the other side! I've crossed the ocean fourtimes since the war started; I've been in London, Rome, Paris,Petrograd--pretty much everywhere. I'm getting homesick, though. The_laissez-passer_ I've picked up, or forged, no matter which, takesme straight through to the Front; and I've got friends even in thetrenches. Before the Frenchies know it I'll be across no-man's-land andinside the German lines!"
For a moment, as I listened, I was dangerously near admiring him. He wascertainly exaggerating; but it couldn't all be brag. The life of thisspy of the first water, of international fame, must be rather marvelous;to defy one's enemies with success, to journey calmly through theircapitals, to stroll undetected among their agents of justice--were notthings any fool could do. He carried his life
in his hand, this Franzvon Blenheim. He had courage; he even had genius along his speciallines. His impersonation on the liner, shrewd, slangy, coarse-grained,patronizing, had been a triumph. Then, suddenly, I remembered a murderedboy beside whom I had knelt that morning, and my brief flicker of homagedied.
"You think I can't do it, eh?" He had misinterpreted my expression."Well, let me tell you I did just a year ago and got over without ascratch. To get across no-man's-land you have to play dead, as youYankees put it; you lie flat on the ground and pull yourself forward afoot at a time and keep your eye on the search-lights so that when theycome your way you can drop on your face and lie like a corpse untilthey move on. It's not pleasant, of course; but in this game we take ourchances. And now I think I'll be claiming my winnings if you please."
I straightened in my chair, recognizing a crisis. With his last phrasehe had shed the bearing of Mr. John Van Blarcom, and from the disguiseall in an instant there emerged the Prussian, insolent, overbearing,fixing us with a look of challenge, and addressing us with crispcommand. No; the kaiser's agent was not a figure of romance or ofadventure. He was a force as able, as ruthless, as cruel as the land heserved.
"Miss Falconer," he demanded briefly, "where are those papers? I am notto be played with, I assure you. If you think I am, just recall thismorning, and your chauffeur. We didn't kill him for the pleasure of it;he had his chance as you have. But when we went for our car he was therein the garage, sleeping; he seemed to think we had designs on him, andtried to rouse the inn."
"Do you call that an excuse for a murder?" I exclaimed. "Youcold-blooded villain!"
"I don't make excuses." His voice was hard and arrogant. "I am callingthe matter to your notice as a kind warning, Mr. Bayne. You said alittle while ago that to see a woman gagged and bound distressed you.Well, unless I have those papers within five minutes, you will seesomething worse than that!"
At the moment what I saw was red. There was something beating in mythroat, choking me; I knew neither myself nor the primitive impulses Ifelt.
"If you lay a finger on Miss Falconer," I heard myself saying slowly, "Iswear I'll kill you."
Then through the crimson mist that enveloped me I saw Blenheim laugh.
"Come, Mr. Bayne," he taunted me, "remember our friend Schwartzmann.This is your business, Miss Falconer, I take it. What are you going todo?"
The girl flung her head back, and her eyes blazed as she answered him.
"You can torture me," she said scornfully. "You can kill me. But I willnever give you the papers; you may be sure of that."
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