Whither Thou Goest

by William Le Queux

friends."

  She looked at him quizzically. "Have you many influential friends?" sheasked, with just a touch of sarcasm in her pleasant, low-pitched voice.

  A slight flush dyed Moreno's swarthy cheek at what he considered herimpertinent question.

  "More perhaps than you would think possible," he answered stiffly.

  She read in his nettled tone that she had wounded his _amour propre_.She hastened to make amends. She was always a little too prone to speakwithout reflection.

  "Oh please don't think I meant to be rude. But we soldiers of fortune,and all of us here are that, are not likely to have many friends in highplaces."

  The journalist paid her back in her own coin.

  "Not real friends, of course. But still, we swim about in many crosscurrents. You yourself have a certain position in a certain section ofwhat we might call semi-smart society."

  Violet Hargrave laughed good-humouredly. She was liberal-minded in thisrespect, that she seldom resented a thrust at herself when she had beenthe aggressor.

  "Very neatly put. I have no illusions about my actual position. I amnot sure that my particular circle is even semi-smart, except in its ownestimation."

  So peace was restored between them, and they chatted gaily togetherduring the progress of the meal. She had taken a great liking to thebrainy young journalist. And Moreno, on his side, was forced to admitthat she was a very attractive woman.

  The grave and dignified Maceda, looking more like a nobleman than theproprietor of an obscure restaurant, came up a few times, and talked inconfidential whispers with the principal guests. He chatted longestwith Lucue and the handsome young Frenchwoman, Valerie Delmonte, who,Moreno learned afterwards, stood high in the councils and the estimationof the society.

  After dinner, the waiters withdrew, the men smoked, and the two ladiesproduced dainty cigarette cases. Then the business of the eveningbegan.

  The genial Lucue, who looked the least ferocious of anarchists, openedthe proceedings. He gave a brief but lucid survey of what was going onabroad, of the methods by which the great gospel of freedom was beingspread in different capitals.

  The young Frenchwoman, Valerie Delmonte, who had dined well on the mostexpensive viands, delivered a fiery and passionate harangue against thegreat ones of the earth, the parasites and bloodsuckers who existed onthe toil of their poorer brethren.

  Her speech roused the assembly to enthusiasm, Mr Jackson beingparticularly fervent in his applause. No doubt, he believed himself tobe a philanthropist, insomuch as he levied his exactions on the leisuredclasses; thus, in a measure, redressing the balance of human wrongs.

  Moreno applauded with hardly less fervour than the moneylender, and hewas pleased to note that the eloquent Valerie shot a grateful glance athim. He had already gained the confidence of Lucue. He felt sure, fromthe reception accorded her, that she was only second to the great manhimself. If he could secure her good graces, his position would besafe.

  Some business, not of great importance, was discussed. Certain projectswere put to the vote. On one subject, Lucue and Mademoiselle Valeriedissented from the majority. Moreno decided with the two, and themajority reversed its verdict.

  Violet Hargrave was, perhaps, the least enthusiastic of the party.Truth to tell, she was studying the young journalist very intently. Heinterested her greatly.

  The proceedings ended. A meeting was arranged for next week at the sameplace, when two members of the brotherhood were expected to arrive fromBarcelona with the latest reports of what was happening in Spain.

  After a little desultory chatting in groups, Maceda's guests prepared todepart.

  Moreno held out his hand to Mrs Hargrave. He bore the air of a man whohad thoroughly enjoyed himself, as in truth he had.

  "A most delightful evening. I can only hope you will sit beside me nextweek. But that I fear is too much to hope for. I expect our goodfriend Lucue arranges these things with a sense of equity."

  Mrs Hargrave smiled. "I expect next time he will put you next toMademoiselle Delmonte." Ignoring his outstretched hand, she addedabruptly, "Are you doing anything after this?"

  "I was only going on to my club for an hour or two. We journalists arenot very early birds."

  Mrs Hargrave spoke with her most charming smile. "Then get me a taxi,and drive with me to my flat in Mount Street. I should like to have alittle chat with you."

  Moreno was delighted to accompany her. He was eager to know more ofthis fascinating and enigmatical woman. He was puzzled by her. How didshe live; on what did she live? Was she at heart an anarchist? Or,sudden thought, was she playing the same game as himself? He hadnoticed her lack of enthusiasm over the events of the evening.

  Arrived in Mount Street, she produced her latchkey, and ushered him intoher luxurious flat, the abode of a well-off woman. She turned into thedrawing-room, and switched on the electric light.

  She threw her cloak on a chair and rang the bell. When the maidappeared in answer, she ordered her to bring refreshment.

  She mixed a whiskey and soda for Moreno with her own slender daintyhands. She mixed a very small portion for herself, to keep him company.

  "I very rarely take anything of this sort, just a glass of very lightwine at lunch or dinner," she explained. "But to-night is a somewhatexceptional one. To your health, Mr Moreno. I hope we may meetoften."

  The journalist responded in suitable terms. He was very attracted byher, but he was not quite sure that he desired a close acquaintance. Hehad heard from his young friend Mount Vernon of her bridge parties, andthe fact that people lost large sums of money there. She was evidentlyof a most hospitable nature, but she might prove a very expensivehostess.

  They chatted for some time on different topics. Then, after a briefspace, she suddenly burst out with a question.

  "What do you know of Guy Rossett?"

  Moreno shrugged his shoulders. "Next to nothing. I only know whateverybody knows, that he has been sent to Madrid."

  Question and answer followed swiftly.

  "Do you know why he has been sent to Madrid?"

  "No. I suppose it is owing to his family influence."

  "Has Lucue told you nothing?"

  "Up to the present nothing."

  She looked at him keenly. Was he fencing? No, she felt sure he wasspeaking the truth.

  "Then I will tell you. Guy Rossett is being sent to Spain because hehas obtained some very important information about the brotherhood.They want him on the spot, as just now Madrid and Barcelona are two veryactive centres."

  Moreno leaned forward, and looked at her steadily. He could not, atpresent, make up his mind about her. She was an Englishwoman living infairly luxurious conditions. What had she in common with this anarchistcrew.

  "Have you got any idea who gave him the information?"

  Violet Hargrave returned his keen glance with equal steadiness.

  "Not the slightest. But there are always traitors in any association ofthis kind."

  "And when they are discovered, the penalty is death." Moreno spokequietly, but he felt an inward shiver. After all, was he so certain hewas going to outwit Lucue and his brother fanatics.

  "The penalty is death. You have been initiated to-night, and you knowthat," was Violet Hargrave's answer.

  The journalist felt a little uneasy. He had suspected her. Did she, inturn, suspect him? But he preserved an unbroken front.

  "They deserve it," he said, with unblushing audacity.

  Mrs Hargrave bent forward, and spoke with intensity.

  "Guy Rossett may prove very dangerous. I think Lucue and MademoiselleDelmonte, from the few words I have exchanged with them to-night, haveresolved on a certain course of action."

  "Ah!" The journalist also bent forward, in an attitude of simulatedeagerness.

  When Mrs Hargrave spoke again, she looked a different woman. Over herface came a hard, vindictive look. The dainty, almost doll-likeprettiness had disappeared.

/>   "Guy Rossett must be got out of the way, before he can do muchmischief."

  And Moreno, with his swift intuition, at once grasped the situation.This slender, feminine thing, with her soft ways and graces, was arevengeful and scorned woman. She had loved Rossett, and he had refusedto accept her love. He shuddered in his soul to think that the spiritof revenge could carry a woman to such lengths.

  But he had only to play his part. It would never do to let her knowthat he suspected, or the tigress's claws would rend himself.

  "A regrettable but inexorable necessity," he said calmly. "If Rossettmenaces the schemes of the brotherhood, he must be got out of the way."

  CHAPTER SIX.

  "You got all this information from perfectly reliable sources, Rossett?"

  The question was asked by the Honourable Percy Stonehenge, His Majesty'sAmbassador to the Spanish Court, as the two men sat together in