21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series)

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  Prince Shan smiled.

  “Immelan’s position,” he explained, “is largely a sentimental one, yet on the other hand he saves his country from what might be a grave calamity. The commercial advantages he gains under this treaty might seem to be inadequate, although in effect they are very considerable. The point is this. He soothes his country of the pain which groans day by day in her limbs. He gratifies her lust for vengeance against Great Britain without plunging her into any desperate enterprise.”

  “And France escapes,” she murmured.

  “France escapes,” he assented. “Rightly or wrongly, the whole of Germany’s post-war animosity was directed against England. She considered herself deceived by certain British statesmen. She may have been right or wrong. I myself find the evidence conflicting. At this moment the matter does not concern us.”

  “And is Great Britain, then,” Maggie asked, “believed to be so helpless that she can be stripped of the greater part of her possessions at the will of China and Japan?”

  Prince Shan smiled.

  “Great Britain,” he reminded her, “has taken the League of Nations to her heart. It was a very dangerous thing to do.”

  “Still,” Maggie persisted, “there remains the great thing which you have not told me. These proposals, I admit, would strike a blow at the heart of the British Empire, but how are they to be carried into effect?”

  “If I had signed the agreement,” he replied, “they could very easily have been carried into effect. You have heard already, have you not, through some of your agents, of the three secret cities? In the eastern-most of them is the answer to your question.”

  She smiled.

  “Is that a challenge to me to come out and discover for myself all that I want to know?”

  “If you come,” he answered, “you shall certainly know everything. There is another little matter, too, which waits for your decision.”

  “Tell me of it at once, please,” she begged, with a sudden conviction of his meaning.

  He obeyed without hesitation.

  “I spoke just now,” he reminded her, “of the three secret cities. They are secret because we have taken pains to keep them so. One is in Germany, one in Russia, and one in China. A casual traveller could discover little in the German one, and little more, perhaps, in the Russian one. Enough to whet his curiosity, and no more. But in China there is the whole secret at the mercy of a successful spy. A man named Jesson, Lady Maggie—”

  “I telephoned you about him before luncheon to-day,” she interrupted.

  “I had your message,” he replied, “and the man is safe for the moment. At the same time, Lady Maggie, let me remind you that this is a game the rules of which are known the world over. Jesson has now in his possession the secret on which I might build, if I chose, plans to conquer the world. He knew the penalty if he was discovered, and he was discovered. To spare his life is sentimentalism pure and simple, yet if it is your will, so be it.”

  “You are very good to me,” she declared gratefully, “all the more good because half the time I can see that you scarcely understand.”

  “That I do not admit,” he protested. “I understand even where I do not sympathise. You make of life the greatest boon on earth. We of my race and way of thinking are taught to take it up or lay it down, if not with indifference, at any rate with a very large share of resignation. However, Jesson’s life is spared. From what I have heard of the man, I imagine he will be very much surprised.”

  She gave a little sigh of relief.

  “You have given me a great deal of your confidence,” she said thoughtfully.

  “Is it not clear,” he answered, “why I have done so? I ask of you the greatest boon a woman has to give. I do not seek to bribe, but if you can give me the love that will make my life a dream of happiness, then will it not be my duty to see that no shadow of misfortune shall come to you or yours? China stands between Japan and Russia, and I am China.”

  She gave him her hands.

  “You are very wonderful,” she declared. “Remember that at a time like this, it is not a woman’s will alone that speaks. It is her soul which lights the way. Prince Shan, I do not know.”

  He smiled gravely.

  “I leave,” he told her, “on Friday, soon after dawn.”

  She found herself trembling.

  “It is a very short time,” she faltered.

  They had both risen to their feet. He was close to her now, and she felt herself caught up in a passionate wave of inertia, an absolute inability to protest or resist. His arms were clasped around her lightly and with exceeding gentleness. He leaned down. She found herself wondering, even in that tumultuous moment, at the strange clearness of his complexion, the whiteness of his firm, strong teeth, the soft brilliance of his eyes, which caressed her even before his lips rested upon hers.

  “I think that you will come,” he whispered. “I think that you will be very happy.”

  CHAPTER XXIX

  Table of Contents

  The great house in Curzon Street awoke, the following morning, to a state of intense activity. Taxi-cabs and motor-cars were lined along the street; a stream of callers came and went. That part of the establishment of which little was seen by the casual caller, the rooms where half a dozen secretaries conducted an immense correspondence, presided over by Li Wen, was working overtime at full pressure. In his reception room, Prince Shan saw a selected few of the callers, mostly journalists and politicians, to whom Li Wen gave the entrée. One visitor even this most astute of secretaries found it hard to place. He took the card in to his master, who glanced at it thoughtfully.

  “The Earl of Dorminster,” he repeated. “I will see him.”

  Nigel found himself received with courtesy, yet with a certain aloofness. Prince Shan rose from his favourite chair of plain black oak heaped with green silk cushions and held out his hand a little tentatively.

  “You are very kind to visit me, Lord Dorminster,” he said. “I trust that you come to wish me fortune.”

  “That,” Nigel replied, “depends upon how you choose to seek it.”

  “I am answered,” was the prompt acknowledgment. “One thing in your country I have at least learnt to appreciate, and that is your love of candour. What is your errand with me to-day? Have you come to speak to me as an ambassador from your cousin, or in any way on her behalf?”

  “My business has nothing to do with Lady Maggie,” Nigel assured him gravely.

  Prince Shan held out his hand.

  “Stop,” he begged. “Do not explain your business. If it is a personal request, it is granted. If, on the other hand, you seek my advice on matters of grave importance, it is yours. Before other words are spoken, however, I myself desire to address you on the subject of Lady Maggie Trent.”

  “As you please,” Nigel answered.

  “It is not the custom of my country, or of my life,” Prince Shan continued, “to covet or steal the things which belong to another. If fate has made me a thief, I am very sorry. I have proposed to Lady Maggie that she accompany me back to China. It is my great desire that she should become my wife.”

  Nigel felt himself curiously tongue-tied. There was something in the other’s measured speech, so fateful, so assured, that it seemed almost as though he were speaking of pre-ordained things. Much that had seemed to him impossible and unnatural in such an idea disappeared from that moment.

  “You tell me this,” Nigel began—

  “I announce it to you as the head of the family,” Prince Shan interrupted.

  “You tell it to me also,” Nigel persisted, “because you have heard the rumours which were at one time very prevalent—that Lady Maggie and I were or were about to become engaged to be married.”

  “I have heard such a rumour only very indirectly,” Prince Shan confessed, “and I cannot admit that it has made any difference in my attitude. I think, in my land and yours, we have at least one common convention. The woman who touches our heart is ours if w
e may win her. Love is unalterably selfish. One must fight for one’s own hand. And for those who may suffer by our victory, we may have pity but no consideration.”

  “Am I to understand,” Nigel asked bluntly, “that Lady Maggie has consented to be your wife?”

  “Lady Maggie has given me no reply. I left her alone with her thoughts. Every hour it is my hope to hear from her. She knows that I leave for China early to-morrow.”

  “So at the present moment you are in suspense.”

  “I am in suspense,” Prince Shan admitted, “and perhaps,” he went on, with one of his rare smiles, “it occurred to me that it would be in one sense a relief to speak to a fellow man of the hopes and fears that are in my heart. You are the one person to whom I could speak, Lord Dorminster. You have not wished my suit well, but at least you have been clear-sighted. I think it has never occurred to you that a prince of China might venture to compete with a peer of England.”

  “On the contrary,” Nigel assented, “I have the greatest admiration for the few living descendants of the world’s oldest aristocracy. You have a right to enter the lists, a right to win if you can.”

  “And what do you think of my prospects, if I may ask such a delicate question?” Prince Shan enquired.

  “I cannot estimate them,” Nigel replied. “I only know that Maggie is deeply interested.”

  “I think,” his companion continued softly, “that she will become my Princess. You have never visited China, Lord Dorminster,” he went on, “so you have little idea, perhaps, as to the manner of our lives. Some day I will hope to be your host, so until then, as I may not speak of my own possessions, may I go just so far as this? Your cousin will be very happy in China. This is a great country, but the very air you breathe is cloyed with your national utilitarianism. Mine is a country of beautiful thoughts, of beautiful places, of quiet-living and sedate people. I can give your cousin every luxury of which the world has ever dreamed, wrapped and enshrined in beauty. No person with a soul could be unhappy in the places where she will dwell.”

  “You are at least confident,” Nigel remarked.

  “It is because I am convinced,” was the calm rejoinder. “I shall take your cousin’s happiness into my keeping without one shadow of misgiving. The last word, however, is with her. It remains to be seen whether her courage is great enough to induce her to face such a complete change in the manner of her life.”

  “It will not be her lack of courage which will keep her in England,” Nigel declared.

  Prince Shan bowed, with a graceful little gesture of the hands. The subject was finished.

  “I shall now, Lord Dorminster,” he said, “take advantage of your kindly presence here to speak to you on a very personal matter, only this time it is you who are the central figure, and I who am the dummy.”

  “I do not follow you,” Nigel confessed, with a slight frown.

  “I speak in tones of apology,” Prince Shan went on, “but you must remember that I am one of reflective disposition; Nature has endowed me with some of the gifts of my great ancestors, philosophers famed the world over. It seems very clear to me that, if I had not come, from sheer force of affectionate propinquity you would have married Lady Maggie.”

  Nigel’s frown deepened.

  “Prince Shan!” he began.

  Again the outstretched hand seemed as though the fingers were pressed against his mouth. He broke off abruptly in his protest.

  “You would have lived a contented life, because that is your province,” his companion continued. “You would have felt yourself happy because you would have been a faithful husband. But the time would have come when you would both have realised that you had missed the great things.”

  “This is idle prophecy,” Nigel observed, a little impatiently. “I came to see you upon another matter.”

  “Humour me,” the Prince begged. “I am going to speak to you even more intimately. I shall venture to do so because, after all, she is better known to me than to you. I am going to tell you that of all the women in the world, Naida Karetsky is the most likely to make you happy.”

  Nigel drew himself up a little stiffly.

  “One does not discuss these things,” he muttered.

  “May I call that a touch of insularity?” Prince Shan pleaded, “because there is nothing else in the world so wonderful to discuss, in all respect and reverence, as the women who have made us feel. One last word, Lord Dorminster. The days of matrimonial alliances between the reigning families of Europe have come to an end under the influence of a different form of government, but there is a certain type of alliance, the utility of which remains unimpaired. I venture to say that you could not do your country a greater service, apart from any personal feelings you might have, than by marrying Mademoiselle Karetsky. There, you see, now I have finished. This is for your reflection, Lord Dorminster—just the measured statement of one who wears at least the cloak of philosophy by inheritance. Time passes. Your own reason for coming to see me has not yet been expounded.”

  “I have come to ask you to visit the Prime Minister before you leave England,” Nigel announced.

  Prince Shan changed his position slightly. His forehead was a little wrinkled. He was silent for a moment.

  “If I pay more than a farewell visit of ceremony,” he said, “that is to say, if I speak with Mr. Mervin Brown on things that count, I must anticipate a certain decision at which I have not yet wholly arrived.”

  Nigel had a sudden inspiration.

  “You are seeking to bribe Maggie!” he exclaimed.

  “That is not true,” was the dignified reply.

  “Then please explain,” Nigel persisted.

  Prince Shan rose to his feet. He walked to the heavy silk curtains which led into his own bedchamber, pushed them apart, and looked for a moment at the familiar objects in the room. Then he came back, glancing on his way at the ebony cabinet.

  “One does not repeat one’s mistakes,” he said slowly, “and although you and I, Lord Dorminster, breathe the common air of the greater world, my instinct tells me that of certain things which have passed between your cousin and myself it is better that no mention ever be made. I wish to tell you this, however. There is in existence a document, my signature to which would, without a doubt, have a serious influence upon the destinies of this country. That document, unsigned, would be one of my marriage gifts to Lady Maggie—and as you know I have not yet had her answer. However, if you wish it, I will go to the Prime Minister.”

  Li Wen came silently in. He spoke to his master for a few minutes in Chinese. A faint smile parted the latter’s lips.

  “You can tell the person at the telephone that I will call within the next few minutes,” he directed. “You will not object,” he added, turning courteously to Nigel, “if I stop for a moment, on the way to Downing Street, at a small private hospital? An acquaintance of mine lies sick there and desires urgently to see me.”

  “I am entirely at your service,” Nigel assured him.

  Prince Shan, with many apologies, left Nigel alone in the car outside a tall, grey house in John Street, and, preceded by the white-capped nurse who had opened the door, climbed the stairs to the first floor of the celebrated nursing home, where, after a moment’s delay, he was shown into a large and airy apartment. Immelan was in bed, looking very ill indeed. He was pale, and his china-blue eyes, curiously protruding, were filled with an expression of haunting fear. A puzzled doctor was standing by the bedside. A nurse, who was smoothing the bedclothes, glanced around at Prince Shan’s entrance. The invalid started convulsively, and, clutching the pillows with his right hand, turned towards his visitor.

  “So you’ve come!” he exclaimed. “Stay where yon are! Don’t go! Doctor—nurse—leave us alone for a moment.”

  The nurse went at once. The doctor hesitated.

  “My patient is a good deal exhausted,” he said. “There are no dangerous symptoms at present, but—”

  “I will promise not to distress him,
” Prince Shan interrupted. “I am myself somewhat pressed for time, and it is probable that your patient will insist upon speaking to me in private.”

  The doctor followed the nurse from the room. Prince Shan stood looking down upon the figure of quondam associate. There was a leaven of mild wonder in his clear eyes, a faintly contemptuous smile about the corners of his lips.

  “So you are afraid of death, my friend,” he observed, “afraid of the death you planned so skilfully for me.”

  “It is a lie!” Immelan declared excitedly. “Sen Lu was never killed by my orders. Listen! You have nothing against me. My death can do you no good. It is you who have been at fault. You—Prince Shan—the great diplomatist of the world—are gambling away your future and the future of a mighty empire for a woman’s sake. You have treated me badly enough. Spare my life. Call in the doctor here and tell him what to do. He can find nothing in my system. He is helpless.”

  The smile upon the Prince’s lips became vaguer, his expression more bland and indeterminate.

  “My dear Immelan,” he murmured, “you are without doubt delirious. Compose yourself, I beg.”

  A light that was almost tragic shone in the man’s face. He sat up with a sudden access of strength.

  “For the love of God, don’t torture me!” he groaned. “The pains grow worse, hour by hour. If I die, the whole world shall know by whose hand.”

  The expression on Prince Shan’s face remained unchanged. In his eyes, however, there was a little glint of something which seemed almost like foreknowledge,

  “When you die,” he pronounced calmly, “it will be by your own hand—not mine.”

  For some reason or other, Immelan accepted these measured words of prophecy as a total reprieve. The relief in his face was almost piteous. He seized his visitor’s hand and would have fawned upon it. Prince Shan withdrew himself a little farther from the bed.

  “Immelan,” he said, “during my stay in England I have studied you and your methods, I have listened to all you have had to say and to propose, I have weighed the advantages and the disadvantages of the scheme you have outlined to me, and I only arrived at my decision after the most serious and unbiassed reflection. Your scheme itself was bold and almost splendid, but, as you yourself well know at the back of your mind, it would lay the seeds of a world tumult. I have studied history, Immelan, perhaps a little more deeply than you, and I do not believe in conquests. For the restoration to China of such lands as belong geographically and rightly to the Chinese Empire, I have my own plans. You, it seems to me, would make a cat’s-paw of all Asia to gratify your hatred of England.”