The Dark Star

by Robert W. Chambers

  CHAPTER XXV

  CUP AND LIP

  Through the crowded Paris terminal Neeland pushed his way, carryingthe olive-wood box in his hand and keeping an eye on his porter, whopreceded him carrying the remainder of his luggage and repeating:

  "_Place, s'il vous plait, m'sieu', dames!_"

  To Neeland it was like a homecoming after many years' exile; thesubtle but perfectly specific odour of Paris assailed his nostrilsonce again; the rapid, emphatic, lively language of France soundedonce more delightfully in his eager ears; vivacity and intelligencesparkled in every eye that met his own. It was a throng of rapidmovement, of animated speech, of gesticulation. And, as it was in thebeginning when he first arrived there as a student, he fell in lovewith it at first sight and contact.

  All around him moved porters, passengers, railroad officials; the red_kepis_ of soldiers dotted the crowd; a priest or two in shovel hatand buckled shoes, a Sister of Charity from the Rue de Bac lent graveraccents to the throng; and everywhere were the pretty bourgeois womenof the capital gathered to welcome relatives or friends, or themselvesstarting on some brief summer voyage so dear to those who seldom findit in their hearts to leave Paris for longer than a fortnight at atime.

  As he pressed onward he witnessed characteristic reunions betweenvoyagers and friends who awaited them--animated, cordial, gay scenescomplicated by many embraces on both cheeks.

  And, of a sudden, he noticed the prettiest girl he had ever seen inhis life. She was in white, with a black straw hat, and her face andfigure were lovely beyond words. Evidently she was awaiting friends;there was a charming expectancy on her fresh young face, a slightforward inclination of her body, as though expectancy and happyimpatience alone controlled her.

  Her beauty almost took his breath away.

  "Lord!" he thought to himself. "If such a girl as that ever stoodwaiting for me----"

  At the same moment her golden-grey eyes, sweeping the passing crowd,met his; a sharp thrill of amazement passed through him as she heldout both gloved hands with a soft exclamation of recognition:

  "Jim! Jim Neeland!"

  "Rue Carew!" He could scarcely credit his eyesight, where he stood,hat in hand, holding both her little hands in one of his.

  No, there was no use in trying to disguise his astonishment. He lookedinto the face of this tall young girl, searched it for familiarfeatures, recognised a lovely paraphrase of the freckled face and thinfigure he remembered, and remained dumb before this radiantreincarnation of that other unhappy, shabby, and meagre child he hadknown two years ago.

  Ruhannah, laughing and flushed, withdrew her hands.

  "Have I changed? You haven't. And I always thought you the mostwonderful and ornamental young man on this planet. I knew you at once,Jim Neeland. Would you have passed without recognising me?"

  "Perhaps I wouldn't have passed after seeing you----"

  "Jim Neeland! What a remark!" She laughed. "Anyway, it's nice tobelieve myself attractive enough to be noticed. And I'm _so_ glad tosee you. Naia is here, somewhere, watching for you"--turning herpretty, eager head to search for the Princess Mistchenka. "Oh, thereshe is! She doesn't see us----"

  They made their way between the passing ranks of passengers andporters; the Princess caught sight of them, came hastily toward them.

  "Jim! It's nice to see you. Thank you for coming! So _you_, found him,Rue? How are you, Jim? And where is the olive-wood box?"

  "I'm well, and there's that devilish box!" he replied, laughing andlifting it in his hand to exhibit it. "Naia, the next time you wantit, send an escort of artillery and two battleships!"

  "Did you have trouble?"

  "Trouble? I had the time of my life. No moving picture can ever againexcite me; no best seller. I've been both since I had your cable toget this box and bring it to you."

  He laughed as he spoke, but the Princess continued to regard him veryseriously, and Rue Carew's smile came and waned like sunlight in awood, for she was not quite sure whether he had really encountered anydangers on this mission which he had fulfilled so well.

  "Our car is waiting outside," said the Princess. "Where is yourporter, Jim?"

  Neeland glanced about him, discovered the porter, made a sign for himto follow, and they moved together toward the entrance to the hugeterminal.

  "I haven't decided where to stop yet," began Neeland, but the Princesschecked him with a pretty gesture:

  "You stop with us, Jim."

  "Thank you so much, but----"

  "Please. Must I beg of you?"

  "Do you really wish it?"

  "Certainly," she replied absently, glancing about her. She added: "Idon't see my car. I don't see my footman. I told him to wait here.Rue, do you see him anywhere?"

  "No, I don't," said the girl.

  "How annoying!" said the Princess. "He's a new man. My own footman wasset upon and almost killed by Apaches a week ago. So I had to find asubstitute. How stupid of him! Where on earth can he be waiting?"

  They traversed the court of the terminal. Many automobiles were parkedthere or just leaving; liveried footmen stood awaiting masters andmistresses; but nowhere was the car of the Princess Mistchenka insight.

  They stood there, Neeland's porter behind with his suitcase andluggage, not knowing whether to wait longer or summon a taxicab.

  "I don't understand," repeated the Princess impatiently. "I explainedvery carefully what I desired. That new groom is stupid. Caron, mychauffeur, would never have made a mistake unless that idiot groommisunderstood his instructions."

  "Let me go and make some inquiries," said Neeland. "Do you mindwaiting here? I'll not be long----"

  He went off, carrying the olive-wood box, which his grasp neverquitted now; and presently the Princess and Ruhannah saw him disappearamong the ranks of automobiles and cabs.

  "I don't like it, Rue," repeated the Princess in a low voice. "Ineither understand nor relish this situation."

  "Have you any idea----"

  "Hush, child! I don't know. That new groom, Verdier, was recommendedby the Russian Embassy. I don't know what to think of this."

  "It _can't_ be anything--queer, can it, dear?" asked Rue.

  "Anything _can_ have happened. Nothing is likely to have occurred,however--unless--unless those Apaches were----"

  "Naia!"

  "It's possible, I suppose. They may have attacked Picard as part of aconspiracy. The Russian Embassy may have been deceived in Verdier. Allthis may be part of a plan. But--I scarcely believe it.... All thesame, I dislike to take a taxicab----"

  She caught sight of Neeland returning; both women moved forward tomeet him.

  "I've solved the mystery," he said. "Naia, your car was run intooutside the station a few minutes after you left it. And I'm sorry tosay that your chauffeur was badly enough hurt to require anambulance."

  "Where on earth did you learn that?"

  "The official at the taxicab control told me. I went to him becausethat is where one is likely to receive information."

  "Caron hurt!" murmured the Princess. "What a shame! Where did theytake him, Jim?"

  "To the Charite."

  "I'll go this afternoon. But where is that imbecile groom of mine?"

  "It appears that he and a policeman went to a garage on the repairtruck that took your car."

  "Was he arrested?"

  "I believe so."

  "What a _contretemps_!" exclaimed the Princess Mistchenka. "We shallhave to take a taxicab after all!"

  "I've ordered one from the control. There it comes now," said Neeland,as a brand new taxicab, which looked like a private car, drew up atthe curb, and a smiling and very spick and span chauffeur saluted.

  Neeland's porter hoisted trunk and suitcase on top; the Princessstepped into the limousine, followed by Rue and Neeland; the chauffeurtook the order, started his car, wheeled out into the square, circledthe traffic policeman, and whizzed away into the depths of the mostbeautiful city in the world.

  Neeland, seated with his back to the drive
r, laid the olive-wood boxon his knees, unlocked it, drew from his breast pocket the papers hecarried; locked them in the box once more, and looked up laughingly atthe Princess and Ruhannah as he placed it at his feet.

  "There you are!" he said. "Thank heaven my task and your affair havebeen accomplished. All the papers are there--and," to Ruhannah, "thatpretty gentleman you call the Yellow Devil is inside, along with someassorted firearms, drawing instruments, and photographs. The wholebusiness is here, intact--and so am I--if that irrelevant detailshould interest you."

  Rue smiled her answer; the Princess scrutinised him keenly:

  "Did you have trouble, Jim?"

  "Yes, I did."

  "Serious trouble?"

  "I tell you it was like a movie in five reels. Never before did Ibelieve such things happened outside a Yonkers studio. But they do,Naia. And I've learned that the world is full of more excitinglymelodramatic possibilities than any novel or scenario evercontained."

  "You're not serious, of course," began Rue Carew, watching the varyingexpressions on his animated features; but the Princess Mistchenkasaid, unsmiling:

  "A film melodrama is a crude and tawdry thing compared to the realdrama so many of us play in every moment of our lives."

  Neeland said to Rue, lightly:

  "That is true as far as I have been concerned with that amazing box.It's full of the very devil--of that Yellow Devil! When I pick it upnow I seem to feel a premonitory tingling all over me--not entirelydisagreeable," he added to the Princess, "but the sort of half-scaredexhilaration a man feels who takes a chance and is quite sure he'llnot have another chance if he loses. Do you understand what I mean?"

  "Yes," said the Princess unsmilingly, her clear, pleasant eyes fixedon him.

  In her tranquil, indefinite expression there was something which madehim wonder how many such chances this pretty woman had taken in herlife of intellectual pleasure and bodily ease.

  And now he remembered that Ilse Dumont apparently knew abouther--about Ruhannah, too. And Ilse Dumont was the agent of a foreigngovernment.

  Was the Princess Mistchenka, patron and amateur of the arts, anothersuch agent? If not, why had he taken this journey for her with thisbox of papers?

  The passage of the Boulevard was slow; at every square traffic washalted; all Paris crowded the streets in the early afternoon sunshine,and the taxicab in which they sat made little speed until the Place dela Concorde opened out and the great Arc--a tiny phantom of lavenderand pearl--spanned the vanishing point of a fairy perspective betweenparallel and endless ramparts of tender green.

  "There was a lot of war talk on the _Volhynia_," said Neeland, "but Ihaven't heard any since I landed, nor have I seen a paper. I supposethe Chancelleries have come to some agreement."

  "No," said the Princess.

  "You don't expect trouble, do you? I mean a general Europeanfree-for-all fight?"

  "I don't know, Jim."

  "Haven't you," he asked blandly, "any means of acquiring insideinformation?"

  She did not even pretend to evade the good-humoured malice of hissmile and question:

  "Yes; I have sources of private information. I have learned nothing,so far."

  He looked at Rue, but the smile had faded from her face and shereturned his questioning gaze gravely.

  "There is great anxiety in Europe," she said in a low voice, "and thetension is increasing. When we arrive home we shall have a chance toconverse more freely." She made the slightest gesture with her headtoward the chauffeur--a silent reminder and a caution.

  The Princess nodded slightly:

  "One never knows," she remarked. "We shall have much to say to oneanother when we are safely home."

  But Neeland could not take it very seriously here in the sunshine,with two pretty women facing him--here speeding up the Champs Elyseesbetween the endless green of chestnut trees and the exquisitesilvery-grey facades of the wealthy--with motors flashing by on everyside and the cool, leafy alleys thronged with children andnurse-maids, and Monsieur Guignol squeaking and drumming in hisred-curtained box!

  How could a young man believe in a sequel to the almost incrediblemelodrama in which he had figured, with such a sane and delightfulsetting, here in the familiar company of two charming women he hadknown?

  Besides, all Paris and her police were at his elbow; the olive-woodbox stood between his knees; a smartly respectable taxi and its driverdrove them with the quiet _eclat_ and precision of a private_employe_; the Arc de Triomphe already rose splendidly above them, andeverything that had once been familiar and reassuring and delightfullay under his grateful eyes on every side.

  And now the taxicab turned into the rue Soleil d'Or--a new street toNeeland, opened since his student days, and only one square long, witha fountain in the middle and young chestnut trees already thicklycrowned with foliage lining both sides of the street.

  But although the rue Soleil d'Or was a new street to him, Parisconstruction is also a rapid affair. The street was faced by charmingprivate houses built of grey Caen stone; the fountain with its goldensun-dial, with the seated figure--a life-size replica of Manship'soriginal in the Metropolitan Museum--serenely and beautifully holdingits place between the Renaissance facades and rows of slender trees.

  Summer had not yet burned foliage or flowers; the freshness of springitself seemed still to reign there.

  Three blue-bloused street-sweepers with hose and broom were washingthe asphalt as their cab slowed down, sounding its horn to warn themout of the way. And, the spouting hose still in their hands, thestreet-cleaners stepped out of the gutter before the pretty privatehotel of Madame la Princesse.

  Already a butler was opening the _grille_; already the chauffeur hadswung Neeland's steamer trunk and suitcase to the sidewalk; alreadythe Princess and Rue were advancing to the house, while Neelandfumbled in his pocket for the fare.

  The butler, bowing, relieved him of the olive-wood box. At the sameinstant the blue-bloused man with the hose turned the powerful streamof water directly into the butler's face, knocking him flat on thesidewalk; and his two comrades tripped up Neeland, passed a red sashover his head, and hurled him aside, blinded, half strangled,staggering at random, tearing furiously at the wide band of woollencloth which seemed to suffocate him.

  Already the chauffeur had tossed the olive-wood box into the cab; thethree blue-bloused men sprang in after it; the chauffeur slipped intohis seat, threw in the clutch, and, driving with one hand, turned apistol on the half drowned butler, who had reeled to his feet and waslurching forward to seize the steering wheel.

  The taxicab, gathering speed, was already turning the corner of therue de la Lune when Neeland managed to free throat and eyes from theswathe of woollen.

  The butler, checked by the levelled pistol, stood dripping, stillalmost blinded by the force of the water from the hose; but he hadplenty of pluck, and he followed Neeland on a run to the corner of thestreet.

  The street was absolutely empty, except for the sparrows, and the big,fat, slate-coloured pigeons that strutted and coo-cooed under theshadow of the chestnut trees.