‘Oh, but why?’ he demanded.
‘I am not my own mistress, otherwise I should be honoured. I also will be frank. I know you to be a gentleman – I think I am a good judge – and your interest in me to be due to no ignoble motives. If circumstances were different, it would give me much pleasure to accept your friendship, and give you mine. But I am merely the companion to a lady who is staying here.’
‘What does that matter?’ he asked eagerly. ‘It makes no difference to me what you are.’
‘What would you say, if I told you I was a scheming, perhaps wicked woman, who had been mixed up in sordid intrigue, even in crime?’
‘I would say that you were either not being truthful, or that you were not responsible for being concerned in anything of a sordid nature. I would swear that your character was pure, even if circumstances proved the reverse.’
Her eyes glistened. He wondered if the tears were near; then the music of her laugh floated round the hall.
‘You are very daring to take me on trust in such a manner,’ she observed lightly.
‘Am I not asking you to take me on trust?’ he demurred.
She shook her head.
‘I do not mistake integrity when I see it so openly before my eyes,’ she contended. ‘But we are talking like old friends not new acquaintances. I must go, Signor Kirche.’
‘And is that friendship, for which I ask, quite impossible?’
‘I do not know – I fear it is,’ she replied in troubled tones. ‘You must let me think. There are other circumstances, besides my employment, which may prevent it. I will talk to my employer about this ardent, young man who has come so suddenly into my life.’
Her smile, as she made the last remark, was full of a tenderness he found irresistible.
‘I pray,’ he murmured, ‘that I may stay in your life.’
‘Hush!’ she chided. ‘For an Austrian you are very impetuous, my friend. Has the air of Italy already had its influence on you?’
‘Not the air of Italy, signorina, but a daughter of Greece who is ornamenting the Eternal City.’
‘You must not say things like that. Rome is noble, sublime. To speak of me in such a manner is desecration to this wonderful city.’ She made as though to pass on, but he stayed her. ‘Please let me go. I must not stop here.’
‘Can you not give me hope that you and I will be friends?’ he urged.
‘I have told you, I must think. Afterwards I will tell you. Sometime we will meet.’
‘Sometime!’ he echoed in dismay. ‘That sounds dreadful. Please make it more definite than that.’
‘Very well,’ she smiled. ‘Tomorrow morning at eleven I will walk on the terrace of the Pincio. Perhaps Signor Kirche may also be there – who knows? If so, it is possible we may meet.’
His eyes shone, a happy smile lighted up a face that had been gloomy far longer than was its habit.
‘I will live for tomorrow morning, Signorina Ictinos,’ he vowed.
‘There is one thing I must ask you,’ she whispered seriously. ‘You are a man of honour; you will promise me. Please do not at any time mention to a soul that we first met on the stairs at the Hotel Splendide. Let it be thought, if you wish, that we first met here and today. Will you promise this to me?’
‘Assuredly, signorina; you have my word.’
‘You do not wish to know why I ask this?’
‘It is not my business.’
‘Thank you very much, signor. I am very grateful.’
‘You have no objection to my remembering in my secret heart that it was on the stairs of the Splendide that we met?’
She smiled.
‘I cannot prevent your doing that, can I? I also will never forget it – in my secret heart,’ she added in a murmur that was the sweetest of music to his ears.
She passed on, and he watched her go, his very soul in his eyes for all the world to see. At the top of the great staircase she bent over the banisters, and smiled down at him. He turned rather like a man bemused to walk out of the building; found the caretaker in his little glass enclosed nook regarding him with a broad smile.
‘The signorina is very beautiful,’ the man observed as Hill approached.
‘She is perfect!’ declared the young man with ardent emphasis. ‘The most wonderful of women.’
‘Ah! I think that the signor has something of the warmth of Italy in his blood.’
Hill passed on. He almost felt that the doorkeeper was right. Thalia had roused in him an ardour and élan that he would, at one time, have considered foreign to his nature.
It was exactly midnight, when Hugh Shannon, carrying a parcel, and attired in a dark suit with a soft hat pulled well down over his eyes, arrived in the vicinity of the building wherein he felt so much that was mysterious and sinister was going on. It was a dark night, but the road was well-lighted, while a glow of illumination was diffused before the entrance by an artistic electric lamp. He had not long to wait. A figure emerged from the half-open door, and flitted like a shadow towards where he had taken up his stand.
‘I saw you pass under one of the lights, Hugh,’ whispered Thalia. ‘Come quickly; all is well at the moment, but, if we delay, there may be interruptions.’
He followed her without a word, both of them taking care to avoid the light as much as possible. They crept into the dimly-lit hall, she preceding him to make certain there was no one about. A pause of a few seconds occupied in listening, and they ascended the broad, artistic staircase. At the top she bade him wait a little while, and left him. In a few moments she was back and, taking him by the hand, led him to a door standing ajar. Pushing it open, they entered, and he found himself in a well-lit but narrow corridor. Almost opposite was a room into which she quickly guided him. He glanced appreciatively round the dainty apartment, which, though she had occupied it for so short a time, seemed to contain the indefinable atmosphere of her personality. She closed and locked the door, sighing her relief.
‘It was a little trying to the nerves,’ she confessed in a whisper. ‘Please remember to speak in a very low voice, for beyond that wall is the room of Monsieur and Madame Bikelas. Madame is, I think, yet awake.’
‘Awake!’ he murmured. ‘Wasn’t it rather risky to fetch me under the circumstances?’
She shrugged her shoulders which gleamed entrancingly under the glare of the electricity. She was clothed in a lace evening gown of aquamarine blue which suited her to perfection; over one arm she carried a black Spanish shawl; a diamond necklace that must have been very valuable hung round her neck. As usual her almost blue-black glossy hair was brushed lightly back, displaying her little white ears, in each of which shone a diamond. If possible she looked more alluring, more captivating than ever.
‘I had no choice,’ she told him. ‘A party of us went to the opera. Afterwards the men went together to the room of Kyprianos. They may be there for a very long time. I think tonight they have a most important conference. I heard Monsieur Bikelas inform Madame that he would be late, and she must go to bed. If I had waited, the danger would increase, for at any time he and his secretary might come down. I thought it would be safer for you to come while only Madame was here.’
He nodded.
‘You are right.’ He smiled at her. It seemed to him that there was something different about her. The slight suggestion of hardness in her face was gone completely. He thought to see a new gentleness there that he had certainly not noticed before. ‘Thalia,’ he told her candidly, ‘you look bewitching tonight. You are always beautiful, but tonight you are more wonderful than ever.’
She smiled up at him gladly.
‘Perhaps it is that I am very happy,’ she murmured. ‘Something has come into my heart that I do not understand, but it is very nice. It makes me feel – oh, I cannot explain, and I must not think of it, because of the duty which must occupy all my attention. You have the microphone in that parcel?’
Shannon nodded, and proceeded to unwrap it, wondering all the time what
it was that had come into her heart that had made her very happy, and which she did not understand.
‘Did your gallant cavalier, General Radoloff, accompany you to the opera?’ he asked.
She made a sound expressive of disgust.
‘Yes; and tonight I found his attentions most distasteful to me. Before, I did not mind very much, but all seemed so different tonight. I think he is a beast, that man. All the time he bends over me, and looks at me with eyes that seem to gloat, as though I were a very choice morsel of food that he was about to eat. I know what it is he is thinking, and it is not nice, my friend. Tonight I felt that his presence – what is it I wish to say?’
‘Sullied you?’
‘Yes, sullied me.’
‘Beast!’ growled Shannon.
She quickly put a white, shapely hand over his mouth.
‘S’sh!’ she warned. ‘Your voice is like yourself, Hugh; very, very big. Oh! What is that?’
He withdrew from the parcel a suit of overalls with which he had thoughtfully provided himself. He explained, quickly donning it over his clothing, while she curiously examined the microphone. Shannon’s thoughts were busy, and not altogether with the work in hand. He was wondering if Thalia had again met Hill, and if she also had been attracted to him as he had been to her. That would certainly account for the softness in her face, and that something in her heart which she said she could not understand. It would also explain her sudden repugnance for Radoloff’s attentions. He wished he could have asked her, for he was very keen that his friend’s sudden devotion for her should end in happiness, but of course it was out of the question. He abruptly put all thoughts of a sentimental nature aside, and turned his attention to the matter on hand.
‘It is lucky,’ he commented, remembering to keep his voice very low, ‘that it is too warm for fires. That certainly would make our project impossible.’
He walked to the huge ornamental fireplace, which had been designed in imitation of the work of Bernini. Stretching his great bulk underneath, and looking up, he was gratified to find that he would be able to negotiate the chimney. It would be a tight squeeze, but it could be done. Bars of iron, placed at uniform distances apart, would make the ascent fairly easy. Pushing the microphone into his pocket, he handed Thalia the headphones, arranging the flex in such a manner that it would run out evenly as he ascended, and not jerk the microphone out of his possession.
‘Be careful not to make a noise,’ she warned him. ‘It is possible that they may hear you.’
‘They will think it is a mouse,’ he grinned.
She laughed softly.
‘Oh, but what a very great mouse!’ she exclaimed.
He commenced the ascent, and was soon in an atmosphere of soot that threatened to choke him. The chimney had not been swept at a very recent date, he reflected ruefully, and wondered if he would cause the soot to fall and make a mess of Thalia’s neat room. He just fitted in, and that was about all. If he had been two or three inches more in girth, it is probable that he would have been unable to make the ascent. Slowly he went up, taking care not to make a sound, and endeavouring to refrain from dislodging the thick masses of carbon deposit he found all around him. In this he was not altogether successful, as he could tell by the chunks which he could hear softly falling. It seemed a long way up, the rooms of the building were extremely lofty, but at last he came to a turn in the chimney, and knew he was close to the fireplace above. Here it narrowed, and he found it impossible to squeeze his broad shoulders any farther up. That was a poser, and he remained where he was, wondering what to do.
It was while he was stationary that he became aware of the murmur of voices. He decided that he must be directly behind the fireplace. A few inches higher, and he ought to be able to hear the conversation. He reached up a hand, and presently felt what seemed to be a ledge. If he could succeed in jamming the microphone there, it would be an ideal spot. Wriggling desperately, keeping his hand up and one shoulder higher than the other, he succeeded in gaining at least half a foot, but he was now fastened in so tightly that he was helpless. The voices, however, were quite distinct, and he remained in his desperately uncomfortable position listening intently. Someone, speaking in the Greek language, was apparently giving a long technical explanation of a chemical formula, which was gibberish to Shannon. Presently he caught the word plague; then typhoid and cholera, and became at once intensely interested.
‘Are you quite certain you can do this?’ asked an eager voice.
‘Of course I am,’ came the quick reply of the man who had already been speaking. ‘Paul Michalis and you, also, Plasiras, have observed what I can do. It is only the difficulty of making enough to enable you to commence operations. When you dictate your terms, it is necessary that you give evidence that your threats are not empty. You can only do that by having a sufficient supply at hand. Is it not so?’
‘But it is amazing. I did not realise that your research work had taken you so far forward. Actually then it would be possible to declare our intentions almost at once.’
‘Yes. It is only that there must be a good supply in reserve.’
‘And the antidote?’ queried another man. ‘It is quite certain?’
‘Absolutely. Listen, my friends, I have not told you this before – only Michalis knows. I experimented on myself.’
There were mingled exclamations of horror and excitement.
‘It was terrible,’ declared a deep, vibrating voice. ‘I, Paul Michalis, give you my word that I was terrified. I strove to dissuade Kyprianos, but he was so certain that he could not fail. In the cause of science and our great schemes, he took the risk, while I stood by and watched him. As you will gather, it was entirely successful.’
Murmurs of admiration reached Shannon’s ears.
‘When can the demonstration be arranged that you promise us, Kyprianos?’ asked someone, after a short silence.
‘In two or three days I will tell you. It is a great pity that we had to leave Cyprus so hurriedly. I had selected Troödos for the experiment on the first grand scale. All of our people would have been warned to leave. There are not many. Muslims and Armenians and some English would remain – to die.’ His voice contained a soft, horribly gloating note. ‘A few pints of my preparation in the water supply and, in less than a week, the inhabitants would have been stricken with a mysterious disease which could not have been combated. The bacteria have been interbred in such a manner that the drugs administered to prevent the spread of one branch of the disease would simply encourage another. You see, gentlemen, drugs which kill some species of microbe organisms feed others, and it was with that idea in my mind that I experimented. The result has been successful beyond my dreams. No one who is infected can be cured, and once an epidemic commenced it would spread with the greatest rapidity.
‘Think of the power which is in your grasp. You, Plasiras and Bikelas, will be dictators of Greece; General Radoloff and Doreff of Bulgaria; Bruno of Italy; Michalis of Cyprus. When you have obtained the power in your own countries; then you can combine to become masters of Europe – of the world. There is no limit to the possibilities which my brain has conceived for you. And you, Plasiras, with Bikelas had visions of making one more attempt to overthrow the present Greek government in a similar manner to that which ended so disastrously in December. You plotted with the general to obtain the help of Bulgaria, and held out the promise of Western Thrace in return. Signor Bruno was admitted to your counsels in the hope of his being able to rouse the sympathy and perhaps the help of Italy. Then Michalis was to raise an army of Cypriots of Greek extraction in return for which Cyprus would be annexed by Greece – that is the Greece under Plasiras and Bikelas. Were there ever ideas of such foolishness? But I, my friends, I, Nicholas Kyprianos, have made them not only possible but certain. With the help of Bulgaria would you have conquered Greece? No – I tell you, you would not. If you had tampered with Cyprus, down on you would come the British navy and army. Of all your mad plans, that I think
was the worst. What Signor Bruno could have done, when he is out of favour with his own government, I do not know. But now because you have allied yourselves with me you can all benefit beyond your wildest dreams.
‘You need no army, you need no navy. All that is necessary is for you to express your demands, and give an unmistakable demonstration of your powers. General Radoloff and Monsieur Doreff are men of importance already, yet they are, after all, but two in a government, with no promise of anything greater. Now supreme and unlimited control looms before them. Western Thrace – bah! Bulgaria, under them, can have any seaboard she wishes to take that does not interfere with the Greece of Messieurs Plasiras and Bikelas or the Italy of Signor Bruno. The people themselves will quickly decide for you. Threaten to wipe them out with a strange contagious disease; show them how with one small proof, and quickly they will destroy the existing governments and bend the knee to you. Are you not glad you took Paul into your confidence, gentlemen, and were told by him of me? It is good that he is to have Cyprus. Great Britain will not dare to refuse, when she knows what refusal will mean to her people. He is popular, and will make a good ruler.’
His harangue was followed by a buzz of excited chatter, but of too confused a nature for Shannon to follow clearly. He had forgotten his painful cramped position. If he had not already been practically unable to move, he would have been frozen into a condition of horrified immobility by what he had heard. He had little thought, when ascending the chimney, that such a diabolical scheme was afoot. The thought of it made him feel physically sick. Kyprianos must be a monster, when his brain could conceive a plot so vile, and experiment until the means were at hand to exploit it. No less fiends than he were the others who could countenance, for one moment, a way so utterly inhuman of forcing themselves into power. All the time the Cypriot had talked with the fanaticism of a cold-blooded scientist, whom no scruples of humanity could deviate from a course which the cleverness of his brain had opened up. Shannon became acutely aware of the pain in his arm and neck, but was too eager to listen to all it was possible to hear to descend a little for relief. One of the men put a question to Kyprianos, when the babble had subsided, which had occurred to the Englishman.
Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) Page 19