CHAPTER XVII
Mr. Fentolin, having succeeded in getting rid of his niece and hissomewhat embarrassing guest for at least two hours, was seated in hisstudy, planning out a somewhat strenuous morning, when his privacy wasinvaded by Doctor Sarson.
"Our guest," the latter announced, in his usual cold and measured tones,"has sent me to request that you will favour him with an interview."
Mr. Fentolin laid his pen deliberately down.
"So soon," he murmured. "Very well, Sarson, I am at his service. Saythat I will come at once."
Mr. Fentolin lost no time in paying this suggested visit. Mr. John P.Dunster, shaved and clothed, was seated in an easy-chair drawn up tothe window of his room, smoking what he was forced to confess was a veryexcellent cigar. He turned his head as the door opened, and Mr. Fentolinwaved his hand pleasantly.
"Really," he declared, "this is most agreeable. I had an idea, Mr.Dunster, that I should find you a reasonable person. Men of youreminence in their profession usually are."
Mr. Dunster looked at the speaker curiously.
"And what might my profession be, Mr. Fentolin?" he asked. "You seem toknow a great deal about me."
"It is true," Mr. Fentolin admitted. "I do know a great deal."
Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar.
"Well," he said, "I have been the hearer of several importantcommunications from my side of the Atlantic to England and to theContinent, and I have always known that there was a certain amountof risk in the business. Once I had an exceedingly narrow shave," hecontinued reminiscently, "but this is the first time I have ever beendead up against it, and I don't mind confessing that you've fairly gotme puzzled. Who the mischief are you, Mr. Fentolin, and what are youinterfering about?"
Mr. Fentolin smiled queerly.
"I am what you see," he replied. "I am one of those unfortunate humanbeings who, by reason of their physical misfortunes, are cut off fromthe world of actual life. I have been compelled to seek distraction instrange quarters. I have wealth--great wealth I suppose I should say;an inordinate curiosity, a talent for intrigue. As to the direction inwhich I carry on my intrigues, or even as to the direct interests whichI study, that is a matter, Mr. Dunster, upon which I shall not gratifyyour curiosity nor anybody else's. But, you see, I am admitting freelythat it does interest me to interfere in great affairs."
"But how on earth did you get to know about me," Mr. Dunster asked, "andmy errand? You couldn't possibly have got me here in an ordinary way. Itwas an entire fluke."
"There, you speak with some show of reason. I have a nephew whom youhave met, who is devoted to me."
"Mr. Gerald Fentolin," Mr. Dunster remarked drily.
"Precisely," Mr. Fentolin declared. "Well, I admit frankly the truth ofwhat you say. Your--shall we say capture, was by way of being a giganticfluke. My nephew's instructions simply were to travel down by the trainto Harwich with you, to endeavour to make your acquaintance, to followyou on to your destination, and, if any chance to do so occurred, torelieve you of your pocket-book. That, however, I never ventured toexpect. What really happened was, as you have yourself suggested, almostin the nature of a miracle. My nephew showed himself to be possessed ofgifts which were a revelation to me. He not only succeeded in travellingwith you by the special train, but after its wreck he was clever enoughto bring you here, instead of delivering you over to the mercies of avillage doctor. I really cannot find words to express my appreciation ofmy nephew's conduct."
"I could," Mr. Dunster muttered, "very easily!"
Mr. Fentolin sighed gently.
"Perhaps our points of view might differ."
"We have spent a very agreeable few minutes in explanations," Mr.Dunster continued. "Would it be asking too much if I now suggest that weremove the buttons from our foils?"
"Why not?" Mr. Fentolin assented smoothly. "Your first question toyourself, under these circumstances, would naturally be: 'What does Mr.Fentolin want with me?' I will answer that question for you. All that Iask--it is really very little--is the word agreed upon."
Mr. Dunster held his cigar a little way off and looked steadfastly athis host for a moment. "So you have interpreted my cipher?"
Mr. Fentolin spread out the palms of his hands in a delicate gesture.
"My dear Mr. Dunster," he said, "one of the simplest, I think, that wasever strung together. I am somewhat of an authority upon ciphers."
"I gather," Mr. Dunster went on, although his cigar was burning itselfout, "that you have broken the seal of my dispatches?"
Mr. Fentolin closed his eyes as though he had heard a discord.
"Nothing so clumsy as that, I hope," he murmured gently. "I will notinsult a person of your experience and intelligence by enumerating thevarious ways in which the seal of a dispatch may be liquefied. It isquite true that I have read with much pleasure the letter which you arecarrying from a certain group of very distinguished men to a certainperson now in The Hague. The letter, however, is replaced in itsenvelope; the seal is still there. You need have no fears whateverconcerning it. All that I require is that one word from you."
"And if I give you that one word?" Mr. Dunster asked.
"If you give it me, as I think you will," Mr. Fentolin replied suavely,"I shall then telegraph to my agent, or rather I should say to a dearfriend of mine who lives at The Hague, and that single word will becabled by him from The Hague to New York."
"And in that case," Mr. Dunster enquired, "what would become of me?"
"You would give us the great pleasure of your company here for a verybrief visit," Mr. Fentolin answered. "We should, I can assure you, doour very best to entertain you."
"And the dispatch which I am carrying to The Hague?"
"Would remain here with you."
Mr. Dunster knocked the ash from his cigar. Without being a man of greatparts, he was a shrewd person, possessed of an abundant stock of commonsense. He applied himself, for a few moments, to a consideration of thisaffair, without arriving at any satisfactory conclusion.
"Come, Mr. Fentolin," he said at last, "you must really forgive me, butI can't see what you're driving at. You are an Englishman, are you not?"
"I am an Englishman," Mr. Fentolin confessed "or rather," he added, withghastly humour, "I am half an Englishman."
"You are, I am sure," Mr. Dunster continued, "a person of intelligence,a well-read person, a person of perceptions. Surely you can see andappreciate the danger with which your country is threatened?"
"With regard to political affairs," Mr. Fentolin admitted, "I considermyself unusually well posted--in fact, the study of the diplomaticmethods of the various great Powers is rather a hobby of mine."
"Yet," Mr. Dunster persisted, "you do not wish this letter deliveredto that little conference in The Hague, which you must be aware is nowsitting practically to determine the fate of your nation?"
"I do not wish," Mr. Fentolin replied, "I do not intend, that thatletter shall be delivered. Why do you worry about my point of view?I may have a dozen reasons. I may believe that it will be good for mycountry to suffer a little chastisement."
"Or you may," Mr. Dunster suggested, glancing keenly at his host, "bethe paid agent of some foreign Power."
Mr. Fentolin shook his head.
"My means," he pointed out, "should place me above such suspicion. Myincome, I really believe, is rather more than fifty thousand pounds ayear. I should not enter into these adventures, which naturally are notentirely dissociated from a certain amount of risk, for the purposes offinancial gain."
Mr. Dunster was still mystified.
"Granted that you do so from pure love of adventure," he declared,"I still cannot see why you should range yourself on the side of yourcountry's enemies.
"In time," Mr. Fentolin observed, "even that may become clear to you. Atpresent, well--just that word, if you please?"
Mr. Dunster shook his head.
"No," he decided, "I do not think so. I cannot make up my mind to tellyou that word."
Mr. Fentolin gave no sign of annoyance or even disappointment. He simplysighed. His eyes were full of a gentle sympathy, his face indicated acertain amount of concern.
"You distress me," he declared. "Perhaps it is my fault. I have not mademyself sufficiently clear. The knowledge of that word is a necessity tome. Without it I cannot complete my plans. Without it I very much fear,dear Mr. Dunster, that your sojourn among us may be longer than you haveany idea of."
Mr. Dunster laughed a little derisively.
"We've passed those days," he remarked. "I've done my best to enterinto the humour of this situation, but there are limits. You can't keepprisoners in English country houses, nowadays. There are a dozen waysof communicating with the outside world, and when that's once done, itseems to me that the position of Squire Fentolin of St. David's Hallmight be a little peculiar."
Mr. Fentolin smiled, very slightly, still very blandly.
"Alas, my stalwart friend, I fear that you are by nature an optimist! Iam not a betting man, but I am prepared to bet you a hundred pounds toone that you have made your last communication with the outside worlduntil I say the word."
Mr. Dunster was obviously plentifully supplied with either courage orbravado, for he only laughed.
"Then you had better make up your mind at once, Mr. Fentolin, how soonthat word is to be spoken, or you may lose your money," he remarked.
Mr. Fentolin sat very quietly in his chair.
"You mean, then," he asked, "that you do not intend to humour me in thislittle matter?"
"I do not intend," Mr. Dunster assured him, "to part with that wordto you or to any one else in the the world. When my message has beenpresented to the person to whom it has been addressed, when my trust isdischarged, then and then only shall I send that cablegram. That momentcan only arrive at the end of my journey."
Mr. Fentolin leaned now a little forward in his chair. His face wasstill smooth and expressionless, but there was a queer sort of meaningin his words.
"The end of your journey," he said grimly, "may be nearer than youthink."
"If I am not heard of in The Hague to-morrow at the latest," Mr. Dunsterpointed out, "remember that before many more hours have passed, I shallbe searched for, even to the far corners of the earth."
"Let me assure you," Mr. Fentolin promised serenely, "that though yourfriends search for you up in the skies or down in the bowels of theearth, they will not find you. My hiding-places are not as otherpeople's."
Mr. Dunster beat lightly with his square, blunt forefinger upon thetable which stood by his side.
"That's not the sort of talk I understand," he declared curtly. "Let usunderstand one another, if we can. What is to happen to me, if I refuseto give you that word?"
Mr. Fentolin held his hand in front of his eyes, as though to shut outsome unwelcome vision.
"Dear me," he exclaimed, "how unpleasant! Why should you force me todisclose my plans? Be content, dear Mr. Dunster, with the knowledgeof this one fact: we cannot part with you. I have thought it overfrom every point of view, and I have come to that conclusion; alwayspresuming," he went on, "that the knowledge of that little word of whichwe have spoken remains in its secret chamber of your memory."
Mr. Dunster smoked in silence for a few minutes.
"I am very comfortable here," he remarked.
"You delight me," Mr. Fentolin murmured.
"Your cook," Mr. Dunster continued, "has won my heartfelt appreciation.Your cigars and wines are fit for any nobleman. Perhaps, after all, thislittle rest is good for me."
Mr. Fentolin listened attentively.
"Do not forget," he said, "that there is always a limit fixed, whetherit be one day, two days, or three days."
"A limit to your complacence, I presume?"
Mr. Fentolin assented.
"Obviously, then," Mr. Dunster concluded, "you wish those who sent meto believe that my message has been delivered. Yet there I must confessthat you puzzle me. What I cannot see is, to put it bluntly, where youcome in. Any one of the countries represented at this little conferencewould only be the gainers by the miscarriage of my message, which is,without doubt, so far as they are concerned, of a distasteful nature.Your own country alone could be the sufferer. Now what interest in theworld, then, is there left--what interest in the world can you possiblyrepresent--which can be the gainer by your present action?"
Mr. Fentolin's eyes grew suddenly a little brighter. There was a lightupon his face strange to witness.
"The power which is to be the gainer," he said quietly, "is the powerencompassed by these walls."
He touched his chest; his long, slim fingers were folded upon it.
"When I meet a man whom I like," he continued softly, "I take him intomy confidence. Picture me, if you will, as a kind of Puck. Haven't youheard that with the decay of the body comes sometimes a malignant growthin the brain; a Caliban-like desire for evil to fall upon the world;a desire to escape from the loneliness of suffering, the isolation ofblack misery?"
Mr. John P. Dunster let his cigar burn out. He looked steadfastly atthis strange little figure whose chair had imperceptibly moved a littlenearer to his.
"You know what the withholding of this message you carry may mean,"Mr. Fentolin proceeded. "You come here, bearing to Europe the word of agreat people, a people whose voice is powerful enough even to stillthe gathering furies. I have read your ciphered message. It is what Ifeared. It is my will, mine--Miles Fentolin's--that that message be notdelivered."
"I wonder," Mr. Dunster muttered under his breath, "whether you are inearnest."
"In your heart," Mr. Fentolin told him, "you know that I am. I cansee the truth in your face. Now, for the first time, you begin tounderstand."
"To a certain extent," Mr. Dunster admitted. "Where I am still inthe dark, however, is why you should expect that I should becomeyour confederate. It is true that by holding me up and obstructing mymessage, you may bring about the evil you seek, but unless that word iscabled back to New York, and my senders believe that my message has beendelivered, there can be no certainty. What has been trusted to me as thesafest means of transmission, might, in an emergency, be committed to acable."
"Excellent reasoning," Fentolin agreed. "For the very reasons you namethat word will be given."
Mr. Dunster's face was momentarily troubled. There was something in thestill, cold emphasis of this man's voice which made him shiver.
"Do you think," Mr. Fentolin went on, "that I spend a great fortunebuying the secrets of the world, that I live from day to day with therisk of ignominious detection always hovering about me--do you thinkthat I do this and am yet unprepared to run the final risks of life anddeath? Have you ever talked with a murderer, Mr. Dunster? Has curiosityever taken you within the walls of Sing Sing? Have you sat within thecell of a doomed man and felt the thrill of his touch, of his closepresence? Well, I will not ask you those questions. I will simply tellyou that you are talking to one now."
Mr. Dunster had forgotten his extinct cigar. He found it difficult toremove his eyes from Mr. Fentolin's face. He was half fascinated, halfstirred with a vague, mysterious fear. Underneath these wild words ranalways that hard note of truth.
"You seem to be in earnest," he muttered.
"I am," Mr. Fentolin assured him quietly. "I have more than once beeninstrumental in bringing about the death of those who have crossed mypurposes. I plead guilty to the weakness of Nero. Suffering and deathare things of joy to me. There!"
"I am not sure," Mr. Dunster said slowly, "that I ought not to wringyour neck."
Mr. Fentolin smiled. His chair receded an inch or two. There was never atime when his expression had seemed more seraphic.
"There is no emergency of that sort," he remarked, "for which I am notprepared."
His little revolver gleamed for a minute beneath his cuff. He backed hischair slowly and with wonderful skill towards the door.
"We will fix the period of your probation, Mr. Dunster, at--say,twenty-four hours,
" he decided. "Please make yourself until thenentirely at home. My cook, my cellar, my cigar cabinets, are at yourdisposal. If some happy impulse," he concluded, "should show you theonly reasonable course by dinnertime, it would give me the utmostpleasure to have you join us at that meal. I can promise you a chequebeneath your plate which even you might think worth considering, winein your glass which kings might sigh for, cigars by your side which evenyour Mr. Pierpont Morgan could not buy. Au revoir!"
The door opened and closed. Mr. Dunster sat staring into the open spacelike a man still a little dazed.
The Vanished Messenger Page 17