The Yellow Crayon

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XI

  So this was the man! Mr. Sabin did not neglect his luncheon, nor was heever for a moment unmindful of the grey-headed princess who chatted awayby his side with all the vivacity of her race and sex. But he watchedMr. Brott.

  A man this! Mr. Sabin was a judge, and he appraised him rightly. He sawthrough that courteous geniality of tone and gesture; the ready-madesmile, although it seemed natural enough, did not deceive him.Underneath was a man of iron, square-jawed, nervous, forceful. Mr. Brottwas probably at that time the ablest politician of either party in thecountry. Mr. Sabin knew it. He found himself wondering exactly at whatpoint of their lives this man and he would come into contact.

  After luncheon Helene brought them together.

  "I believe," she said to Mr. Brott, "that you have never met my UNCLE.May I make you formally acquainted? UNCLE, this is Mr. Brott, whomyou must know a great deal about even though you have been away for solong--the Duc de Souspennier."

  The two men bowed and Helene passed on. Mr. Sabin leaned upon his stickand watched keenly for any sign in the other's face. If he expected tofind it he was disappointed. Either this man had no knowledge of who hewas, or those things which were to come between them were as yet unborn.

  They strolled together after the other guests into the winter gardens,which were the envy of every hostess in London. Mr. Sabin lit acigarette, Mr. Brott regretfully declined. He neither smoked nor drankwine. Yet he was disposed to be friendly, and selected a seat where theywere a little apart from the other guests.

  "You at least," he remarked, in answer to an observation of Mr. Sabin's,"are free from the tyranny of politics. I am assuming, of course, thatyour country under its present form of government has lost its hold uponyou."

  Mr. Sabin smiled.

  "It is a doubtful boon," he said. "It is true that I am practically anexile. Republican France has no need of me. Had I been a soldier I couldstill have remained a patriot. But for one whose leanings were towardspolitics, neither my father before me nor I could be of service to ourcountry. You should be thankful," he continued with a slight smile,"that you are an Englishman. No constitution in the world can offer somuch to the politician who is strong enough and fearless enough."

  Mr. Brott glanced towards his twinkling eyes.

  "Do you happen to know what my politics are?" he asked.

  Mr. Sabin hesitated.

  "Your views, I know, are advanced," he said. "For the rest I havebeen abroad for years. I have lost touch a little with affairs in thiscountry."

  "I am afraid," Mr. Brott said, "that I shall shock you. You are anaristocrat of the aristocrats, I a democrat of the democrats. The peopleare the only masters whom I own. They first sent me to Parliament."

  "Yet," Mr. Sabin remarked, "you are, I understand, in the Cabinet."

  Mr. Brott glanced for a moment around. The Prime Minister was somewherein the winter gardens.

  "That," he declared, "is an accident. I happened to be the only manavailable who could do the work when Lord Kilbrooke died. I am tellingyou only what is an open secret. But I am afraid I am boring you. Shallwe join the others?"

  "Not unless you yourself are anxious to," Mr. Sabin begged. "It isscarcely fair to detain you talking to an old man when there are so manycharming women here. But I should be sorry for you to think me hideboundin my prejudices. You must remember that the Revolution decimated myfamily. It was a long time ago, but the horror of it is still a livething."

  "Yet it was the natural outcome," Mr. Brott said, "of the thingswhich went before. Such hideous misgovernment as generations of yourcountrymen had suffered was logically bound to bring its own reprisal."

  "There is truth in what you say," Mr. Sabin admitted. He did not want totalk about the French Revolution.

  "You are a stranger in London, are you not?" Mr. Brott asked.

  "I feel myself one," Mr. Sabin answered. "I have been away for a fewyears, and I do not think that there is a city in the world where socialchanges are so rapid. I should perhaps except the cities of the countryfrom which I have come. But then America is a universe of itself."

  For an instant Mr. Brott gave signs of the man underneath. The air ofpolite interest had left his face. He glanced swiftly and keenly at hiscompanion. Mr. Sabin's expression was immutable. It was he who scored,for he marked the change, whilst Mr. Brott could not be sure whether hehad noticed it or not.

  "You have been living in America, then?"

  "For several years--yes."

  "It is a country," Mr. Brott said, "which I am particularly anxious tovisit. I see my chances, however, grow fewer and fewer as the years goby."

  "For one like yourself," Mr. Sabin said, "whose instincts and sympathiesare wholly with the democracy, a few months in America would be verywell spent."

  "And you," Mr. Brott remarked, "how did you get on with the people?"

  Mr. Sabin traced a pattern with his stick upon the marble floor.

  "I lived in the country," he said, "I played golf and read and rested."

  "Were you anywhere near New York?" Mr. Brott asked.

  "A few hours' journey only," Mr. Sabin answered. "My home was in a verypicturesque part, near Lenox."

  Mr. Brott leaned a little forward.

  "You perhaps know then a lady who spent some time in thatneighbourhood--a Mrs. James Peterson. Her husband was, I believe, theAmerican consul in Vienna."

  Mr. Sabin smiled very faintly. His face betrayed no more than a naturaland polite interest. There was nothing to indicate the fact that hisheart was beating like the heart of a young man, that the blood wasrushing hot through his veins.

  "Yes," he said, "I know her very well. Is she in London?"

  Mr. Brott hesitated. He seemed a little uncertain how to continue.

  "To tell you the truth," he said, "I believe that she has reasons fordesiring her present whereabouts to remain unknown. I should perhaps nothave mentioned her name at all. It was, I fancy, indiscreet of me. Thecoincidence of hearing you mention the name of the place where I believeshe resided surprised my question. With your permission we will abandonthe subject."

  "You disappoint me," Mr. Sabin said quietly. "It would have givenme much pleasure to have resumed my acquaintance with the lady inquestion."

  "You will, without doubt, have an opportunity," Mr. Brott said, glancingat his watch and suddenly rising. "Dear me, how the time goes."

  He rose to his feet. Mr. Sabin also rose.

  "Must I understand," he said in a low tone, "that you are not at libertyto give me Mrs. Peterson's address?"

  "I am not at liberty even," Mr. Brott answered, with a frown, "tomention her name. It will give me great pleasure, Duke, to better myacquaintance with you. Will you dine with me at the House of Commons onenight next week?"

  "I shall be charmed," Mr. Sabin answered. "My address for the nextfew days is at the Carlton. I am staying there under my family name ofSabin--Mr. Sabin. It is a fancy of mine--it has been ever since I becamean alien--to use my title as little as possible."

  Mr. Brott looked for a moment puzzled.

  "Your pseudonym," he remarked thoughtfully, "seems very familiar to me."

  Mr. Sabin shrugged his shoulders.

  "It is a family name," he remarked, "but I flattered myself that it wasat least uncommon."

  "Fancy, no doubt," Mr. Brott remarked, turning to make his adieux to hishostess.

  Mr. Sabin joined a fresh group of idlers under the palms. Mr. Brottlingered over his farewells.

  "Your UNCLE, Lady Camperdown," he said, "is delightful. I enjoy meetingnew types, and he represents to me most perfectly the old order ofFrench aristocracy."

  "I am glad," Helene said, "that you found him interesting. I felt sureyou would. In fact, I asked him especially to meet you."

  "You are the most thoughtful of hostesses," he assured her. "By the bye,your UNCLE has just told me the name by which he is known at the hotel.Mr. Sabin! Sabin! It recalls something to my mind. I cannot exactlyremember what."


  She smiled upon him. People generally forgot things when Helene smiled.

  "It is an odd fancy of his to like his title so little," she remarked."At heart no one is prouder of their family and antecedents. I haveheard him say, though, that an exile had better leave behind him evenhis name."

  "Sabin!" Mr. Brott repeated. "Sabin!"

  "It is an old family name," she murmured.

  His face suddenly cleared. She knew that he had remembered. But he tookhis leave with no further reference to it.

  "Sabin!" he repeated to himself when alone in his carriage. "That wasthe name of the man who was supposed to be selling plans to the GermanGovernment. Poor Renshaw was in a terrible stew about it. Sabin! Anuncommon name."

  He had ordered the coachman to drive to the House of Commons. Suddenlyhe pulled the check-string.

  "Call at Dorset House," he directed.

  * * * * *

  Mr. Sabin lingered till nearly the last of the guests had gone. Then heled Helene once more into the winter gardens.

  "May I detain you for one moment's gossip?" he asked. "I see yourcarriage at the door."

  She laughed.

  "It is nothing," she declared. "I must drive in the Park for an hour.One sees one's friends, and it is cool and refreshing after these heatedrooms. But at any time. Talk to me as long as you will, and then I willdrop you at the Carlton."

  "It is of Brott!" he remarked. "Ah, I thank you, I will smoke. Yourhusband's taste in cigarettes is excellent."

  "Perhaps mine!" she laughed.

  Mr. Sabin shrugged his shoulders.

  "In either case I congratulate you. This man Brott. He interests me."

  "He interests every one. Why not? He is a great personality."

  "Politically," Mr. Sabin said, "the gauge of his success is of coursethe measure of the man. But he himself--what manner of a man is he?"

  She tapped with her fingers upon the little table by their side.

  "He is rich," she said, "and an uncommon mixture of the student and theman of society. He refuses many more invitations than he accepts, heentertains very seldom but very magnificently. He has never been knownto pay marked attentions to any woman, even the scandal of the clubs haspassed him by. What else can I say about him, I wonder?" she continuedreflectively. "Nothing, I think, except this. He is a strong man. Youknow that that counts for much."

  Mr. Sabin was silent. Perhaps he was measuring his strength in someimagined encounter with this man. Something in his face alarmed Helene.She suddenly leaned forward and looked at him more closely.

  "UNCLE," she exclaimed in a low voice, "there is something on your mind.Do not tell me that once more you are in the maze, that again you haveschemes against this country."

  He smiled at her sadly enough, but she was reassured.

  "You need have no fear," he told her. "With politics--I have finished.Why I am here, what I am here for I will tell you very soon. It is tofind one whom I have lost--and who is dear to me. Forgive me if forto-day I say no more. Come, if you will you shall drive me to my hotel."

  He offered his arm with the courtly grace which he knew so well how toassume. Together they passed out to her carriage.