Very quickly—he noticed that she went about it clumsily despite her supple gracefulness—she withdrew the heavy weapon from the window and laid it upon the counter. He was looking at her with a peculiar smile upon his lips. She flushed painfully.
“I am not—not what you would call an expert,” she said frankly.
“You mean in handling broadswords,” he said in his most suave manner. “It’s a cunning little thing, isn’t it?” He picked up the ponderous blade. “I don’t wonder you nearly dropped it on your toes.”
“There must have been giants in those days,” she said, a slight shudder passing over her.
“Whoppers,” he agreed eagerly. “I’ve thought somewhat of buying the old thing. Not to use, of course. I’m not a giant.”
“You’re not a pigmy,” she supplemented, her eyes sweeping his long figure comprehensively.
“What’s the price?” he asked, his courage faltering under the cool, impersonal gaze.
“I do not know. My uncle has told you?”
“I—I think he did. But I’ve got a wretched memory when it comes to broadswords.”
She laughed. “This is such a very old broadsword, too,” she said. “It goes back beyond the memory of man.”
“How does it come that you don’t know the price?” he asked, watching her narrowly. She met his inquiring look with perfect composure.
“I am quite new at the trade. I hope you will excuse my ignorance. My uncle will be here in a moment.” She was turning away with an air that convinced King of one thing: she was a person who, in no sense, had ever been called upon to serve others.
“So I’ve heard,” he observed. The bait took effect. She looked up quickly; he was confident that a startled expression flitted across her face.
“You have heard? What have you heard of me?” she demanded.
“That you are new at the business,” he replied coolly.
“You are a stranger in a strange land, so they say.”
“You have been making inquiries?” she asked, disdain succeeding dismay.
“Tentatively, that’s all. Ever since you peeked out of the window up there and laughed at me. I’m curious, you see.”
She stared at him in silent intensity for a moment. “That’s why I laughed at you. You were very curious.”
“Am I so bad as all that?” he lamented.
She ignored the question. “Why should you be interested in me, sir?”
Mr. King was inspired to fabricate in the interest of psychical research. “Because I have heard that you are not the niece of old man Spantz.” He watched intently to catch the effect of the declaration.
She merely stared at him; there was not so much as the flutter of an eyelid. “You have heard nothing of the kind,” she said coldly.
“Well, I’ll confess I haven’t,” he admitted cheerfully. “I was experimenting. I’m an amateur Sherlock Holmes. It pleases me to deduce that you are not related to the armourer. You don’t look the part.”
Now she smiled divinely. “And why not, pray? His sister was my mother.”
“In order to establish a line on which to base my calculations, would you mind telling me who your father is?” He asked the question with his most appealing smile—a smile so frankly impudent that she could not resent it.
“My mother’s husband,” she replied in the same spirit.
“Well, that is quite a clue!” he exclaimed. “’Pon my soul, I believe I’m on the right track. Excuse me for continuing, but is he a count or a duke or just a—”
“My father is dead,” she interrupted, without taking her now serious gaze from his face.
“I beg your pardon,” he said at once. “I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.”
“My mother is dead. Now can you understand why I am living here with my uncle? Even an amateur may rise to that. Now, sir, do you expect to purchase the sword? If not, I shall replace it in the window.”
“That’s what I came here for,” said he, resenting her tone and the icy look she gave him.
“I gathered that you came in the capacity of Sherlock Holmes—or something else.” She added the last three words with unmistakable meaning.
“You mean as a—” he hesitated, flushing.
“You knew I was alone, sir.”
“By Jove, you’re wrong there. I give you my word, I didn’t. If I’d known it, I’d surely have come in sooner. There, forgive me. I’m particularly light-headed and futile today, and I hope—Beg pardon?”
She was leaning toward him, her hands on the counter, a peculiar gleam in her dark eyes—which now, for the first time, struck him as rather more keen and penetrating than he had suspected before.
“I simply want to tell you, Mr. King, that unless you really expect to buy this sword it is not wise in you to make it an excuse for coming here.”
“My dear young lady, I—”
“My uncle has a queer conception of the proprieties. He may think that you come to see me.” A radiant smile leaped into her face, transforming its strange sombreness into absolutely impish mirth.
“Well, hang it all, he can’t object to that, can he? Besides, I never buy without haggling,” he expostulated, suddenly exhilarated, he knew not why.
“Don’t come in here unless you expect to buy,” she said, serious in an instant. “It isn’t the custom in Edelweiss. Young men may chat with shopgirls all the world over—but in Edelweiss, no—unless they come to pay most honourable court to them. My uncle would not understand.”
“I take it, however, that you would understand,” he said boldly.
“I have lived in Vienna, in Paris and in London. But now I am living in Edelweiss. I have not been a shopgirl always.”
“I can believe that. My deductions are justified.”
“Pray forgive me for offering this bit of advice. A word to the wise. My uncle would close the door in your face if—if he thought—”
“I see. Well, I’ll buy the blooming sword. Anyhow, that’s what I came in for.”
“No. You came in because I smiled at you from the window upstairs. It is my sitting-room.”
“Why did you smile? Tell me?” eagerly.
“It was nature asserting itself.”
“You mean you just couldn’t help it?”
“That’s precisely what I mean.”
“Not very complimentary, I’d say.”
“A smile is ever a compliment, sir.”
“I say, do you know you interest me?” he began warmly, but she put her finger to her lips.
“My uncle is returning. I must not talk to you any longer.” She glanced uneasily out upon the square, and then hurriedly added, a certain wistfulness in her voice and eyes. “I couldn’t help it today. I forgot my place. But you are the first gentleman I’ve spoken to since I came here.”
“I—I was afraid you might think I am not a gentleman. I’ve been rather fresh.”
“I happen to have known many gentlemen. Before I went into—service, of course.” She turned away abruptly, a sudden shadow crossing her face. Truxton King exulted. At last he was touching the long-sought trail of the Golden Girl! Here was Romance! Here was mystery!
Spantz was crossing the sidewalk. The American leaned forward and half-whispered: “Just watch me buy that broadsword. I may, in time, buy out the shop, piece by piece.”
She smiled swiftly. “Let me warn you: don’t pay his price.”
“Thanks.”
When Spantz entered the door, a moment later, the girl was gazing listlessly from the window and Truxton King was leaning against the counter with his back toward her, his arms folded and a most impatient frown on his face.
“Hello!” he said gruffly. “I’ve been waiting ten minutes for you.”
Spantz’s black eyes shot from one to the other. “What do you want?” he demanded sharply. As he dropped his hat upon a stool near, the door, his glance again darted from the man to the girl and back again.
“The broadsword. And, say, Mr. Spantz, yo
u might assume a different tone in addressing me. I’m a customer, not a beggar.”
The girl left the window and walked slowly to the rear of the shop, passing through the narrow door, without so much as a glance at King or the old man. Spantz was silent until she was gone.
“You want the broadsword, eh?” he asked, moderating his tone considerably. “It’s a rare old—”
“I’ll give you a hundred dollars-not another cent,” interrupted King, riot yet over his resentment. There followed a long and irritating argument, at the conclusion of which Mr. King became the possessor of the weapon at his own price. Remembering himself in time, he fell to admiring some old rings and bracelets in a cabinet near by, thus paving the way for future visits.
“I’ll come in again,” he said indifferently.
“But you are leaving tomorrow, sir.”
“I’ve changed my mind.”
“You are not going?”
“Not for a few days.”
“Then you have discovered something in Edelweiss to attract you?” grinned the old armourer. “I thought you might.”
“I’ve had a glimpse of the swells, my good friend.”
“It’s all the good you’ll get of it,” said Spantz gruffly.
“I daresay you’re right. Clean that sword up a bit for me, and I’ll drop in tomorrow and get it. Here’s sixty gavvos to bind the bargain. The rest on delivery. Good day, Mr. Spantz.”
“Good day, Mr. King.”
“How do you happen to know my name?”
Spantz put his hand over his heart and delivered himself of a most impressive bow. “When so distinguished a visitor comes to our little city,” he said, “we lose no time in discovering his name. It is a part of our trade, sir, believe me.”
“I’m not so sure that I do believe you,” said Truxton King to himself as he sauntered up the street toward the Hotel. “The girl knew me, too, now that I come to think of it. Heigho! By Jove, I do hope I can work up a little something to interest—Hello!”
Mr. Hobbs, from Cook’s, was at his elbow, his eyes glistening with eagerness.
“I say, old Dangloss is waiting for you at the Regengetz, sir. Wot’s up? Wot you been up to, sir?”
“Up to? Up to, Hobbs?”
“My word, sir, you must have been or he wouldn’t be there to see you.”
“Who is Dangloss?”
“Minister of Police—haven’t I told you? He’s a keen one, too, take my word for it. He’s got Sherlock beat a mile.”
“So have I, Hobbs. I’m not slow at Sherlocking, let me tell you that. How do you know he’s waiting to see me?”
“I heard him ask for you. And I was there just now when one of his men came in and told him you were on your way up from the gunshop down there.”
“So they’re watching me, eh? ’Gad, this is fine!”
He lost no time in getting to the hotel. A well-remembered, fierce-looking little man in a white linen suit was waiting for him on the great piazza.
Baron Jasto Dangloss was a polite man but not to the point of procrastination. He advanced to meet the puzzled American, smiling amiably and twirling his imposing mustachios with neatly gloved fingers.
“I have called, Mr. King, to have a little chat with you about your father,” he said abruptly. He enjoyed the look of surprise on the young man’s face.
“My father?” murmured Truxton, catching his breath. He was shaking hands with the Baron, all the while staring blankly into his twinkling, snapping eyes.
“Won’t you join me at this table? A julep will not be bad, eh?” King sat down opposite to him at one of the piazza tables, in the shade of the great trailing vines.
“Fine,” was his only comment.
A waiter took the order and departed. The Baron produced his cigarette case. King carefully selected one and tapped its tip on the back of his hand.
“Is—has anything happened to my father?” he asked quietly. “Bad news?”
“On the contrary, sir, he is quite well. I had a cablegram from him today.”
“A cablegram?”
“Yes. I cabled day before yesterday to ask if he could tell me the whereabouts of his son.”
“The deuce you say!”
“He replies that you are in Teheran.”
“What is the meaning of this, Baron?”
“It is a habit I have. I make it a practice to keep in touch with the movements of our guests.”
“I see. You want to know all about me; why I’m here, where I came from, and all that. Well, I’m ready for the ‘sweat box.’”
“Pray do not take offence. It is my rule. It would not be altered if the King of England came. Ah, here are the juleps. Quick service, eh?”
“Remarkably so, due to your powers of persuasion, I fancy.”
“I really ordered them a few minutes before you arrived. You see, I was quite certain you’d have one. You take one about this hour every day.”
“By Jove, you have been watching me!” cried Truxton delightedly.
“What are you doing in Edelweiss, Mr. King?” asked the Baron abruptly but not peremptorily.
“Sight-seeing and in search of adventure,” was the prompt response.
“I fancied as much. You’ve seen quite a bit of the world since you left home two years ago, on the twenty-seventh of September.”
“By Jove!”
“Been to South Africa, Asia and—South America—to say nothing of Europe. That must have been an exciting little episode in South America.”
“You don’t mean to say—”
“Oh, I know all about your participation in the revolution down there. You were a captain, I understand, during the three weeks of disturbance. Splendid! For the fun of the thing, I suppose. Well, I like it in you. I should have done it myself. And you got out of the country just in time, if I remember rightly. There was a price placed on your head by the distressed government. I imagine they would have shot you if they could have caught you—as they did the others.” The old man chuckled. “You don’t expect to return to South America, do you? The price is still offered, you know.”
King was glaring at him in sheer wonder. Here was an episode in his life that he fondly hoped might never come to light; he knew how it would disturb his mother. And this foxy old fellow away off here in Graustark knew all about it.
“Well, you’re a wonder!” in pure admiration.
“An appreciated compliment, I assure you. This is all in the way of letting you know that we have found out something concerning your movements. Now, to come down to the present. You expected to leave tomorrow. Why are you staying over?”
“Baron, I leave that to your own distinguished powers of deduction,” said Truxton gently. He took a long pull at the straw, watching the other’s face as he did so. The Baron smiled.
“You have found the young lady to be very attractive,” observed the Baron. “Where have you known her before?”
“I beg pardon?”
“It is not unusual for a young man in search of adventure to follow the lady of his choice from place to place. She came but recently, I recall.”
“You think I knew her before and followed her to Edelweiss?”
“I am not quite sure whether you have been in Warsaw lately. There is a gap in your movements that I can’t account for.”
King became serious at once. He saw that it was best to be frank with this keen old man.
“Baron Dangloss, I don’t know just what you are driving at, but I’ll set you straight so far as I’m concerned. I never saw that girl until the day before yesterday. I never spoke to her until today.”
“She smiled on you quite familiarly from her window casement yesterday,” said Dangloss coolly.
“She laughed at me, to be perfectly candid. But what’s all this about? Who is she? What’s the game? I don’t mind confessing that I have a feeling she is not what she claims to be, but that’s as far as I’ve got.”
Dangloss studied the young man’s face fo
r a moment and then came to a sudden decision. He leaned forward and smiled sourly.
“Take my advice: do not play with fire,” he said enigmatically.
“You—you mean she’s a dangerous person? I can’t believe that, Baron.”
“She has dangerous friends out in the world. I don’t mean to say she will cause you any trouble here—but there is a hereafter. Mind you, I’m not saying she isn’t a good girl, or even an adventuress. On the contrary, she comes of an excellent family—in fact, there were noblemen among them a generation or two ago. You know her name?”
“No. I say, this is getting interesting!” He was beaming.
“She is Olga Platanova. Her mother was married in this city twenty-five years ago to Professor Platanova of Warsaw. The Professor was executed last year for conspiracy. He was one of the leaders of a great revolutionary movement in Poland. They were virtually anarchists, as you have come to place them in America. This girl, Olga, was his secretary. His death almost killed her. But that is not all. She had a sweetheart up to fifteen months ago. He was a prince of the royal blood. He would have married her in spite of the difference in their stations had it not been for the intervention of the Crown that she and her kind hate so well. The young man’s powerful relatives took a hand in the affair. He was compelled to marry a scrawny little duchess, and Olga was warned that if she attempted to entice him away from his wife she would be punished. She did not attempt it, because she is a virtuous girl—of that I am sure. But she hates them all—oh, how she hates them! Her uncle, Spantz, offered her a home. She came here a month ago, broken-spirited and sick. So far, she has been exceedingly respectful to our laws. It is not that we fear anything from her; but that we are obliged to watch her for the benefit of our big brothers across the border. Now you know why I advised you to let the fire alone.”
King was silent for a moment, turning something over in his head.
“Baron, are you sure that she is a Red?”
“Quite. She attended their councils.”
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 78