CHAPTER X
THE LADY IN A HURRY
"Ah! your London is such a strange place. So dull, so triste--so verydamp and foggy."
"Not always, mademoiselle," I replied. "You have been there in winter.You should go in June. In the season it is as pleasant as anywhere elsein the world."
"I have no desire to return. And yet----"
"Well?"
"And yet I have decided to go straight to Boulogne, and across theChannel."
I had met Julie Rosier under curious circumstances only a few hoursbefore. I was on a run alone, with the forty "Napier," from Limoges toLondon, and on that particular winter's night had pulled up at the smallstation of Bersac to send a telegram. I had written out the message,leaving the car outside, and was walking along the platform, whenthe stationmaster, who had been talking with a tall, dark-haired,good-looking girl, approached me, cap in hand.
"Excuse me, m'sieur, but a lady wishes to ask a great favour of you."
"Of me? What is it?" I inquired, rising.
Glancing at the tall figure in black, I saw that she was not more thantwenty-two at the outside, and that she had the bearing and manner of alady.
"Well, m'sieur, she will explain herself," the man said; whereupon thefair stranger approached, bowing, and exclaimed--
"I trust M'sieur will pardon me for what I am about to ask. I know it isgreat presumption on my part, a total stranger, but the fact is that Iam bound to get to Paris to-morrow morning. It is imperative--mostimperative--that I should be there and keep an appointment. I find,however, that the last train has gone. I thought----" and she hesitated,with downcast eyes.
"You mean that you want me to allow you to travel in the car,mademoiselle?" I said, with a smile.
"Ah! m'sieur, if you would--if you only would! It would be an act offriendship that I would never forget."
She saw my hesitation, and I detected how anxious she became. Her glovedhands were trembling, and she seemed agitated and pale to the lips.
Again I scrutinised her. There was nothing of the police spy oradventuress about her. On the contrary, she seemed a very charminglymodest young woman.
"But surely it would be rather wearisome, mademoiselle?" I said.
"No, no, not at all. I must get to Paris at all costs. Ah! m'sieur, youwill allow me to do as I ask, will you not? Do, I implore you!"
I made no reply; for, truth to tell, although I was not suspicious, Ihesitated to allow the fair stranger to be my travelling companion. Itwas against my principle. Yet, reading disinclination in my silence, shecontinued--
"Ah! m'sieur, if you only knew in what deadly peril I am! By grantingthis favour to me you can----" and she broke off short. "Well," she wenton, "I may as well tell you the truth, m'sieur;" and in her eyes therewas a strange look that I had never seen in those of any womanbefore,--"you can save my life."
"Your life?" I echoed, but at that moment the stationmaster, standing atthe buffet door, said--
"Pardon, m'sieur. I am just closing the station. The last train hasdeparted."
"Do take me!" implored the girl. "Do, m'sieur! Do!"
There was no time for further discussion, therefore I did as sherequested, and a few moments later, with a dressing-case, which was allthe baggage she had, she mounted into the car beside me, and we movedoff northward to the capital.
I offered her the fur rug, and she wrapped it about her knees with theair of one used to motoring.
And so, hour after hour, we sat and chatted. I asked her if she liked acigarette, and she gladly accepted. So we smoked together, while shetold me something of herself. She was a native of Nimes, where herpeople had been wealthy landowners, she said, but some unfortunatespeculation on her father's part brought ruin to them, and she was nowgoverness in the family of a certain Baron de Moret, of the Chateau deMoret, near Paris.
A governess! I had believed from her dress and manner that she was atleast the daughter of some French aristocrat, and I confess I wasdisappointed to find that she was only a superior servant.
"I have just come from Nice," she explained, "on very urgentbusiness--business that concerns my own self. If I am not in Paris thismorning I shall, in all probability, pay the penalty with my life."
"How? What do you mean?"
In the grey dawn, as we went on towards Paris, I saw that hercountenance was that of a woman who held a secret. At first I had beenconscious that there was something unusual about her, and suspected herto be an adventuress; but now, on further acquaintance, I becameconvinced that she held possession of some knowledge that she wasyearning to betray, yet feared to do so.
One fact that struck me as curious was that, in the course of ourconversation, she showed that she knew my destination was London. Thispuzzled me.
"When we arrive in Paris I must leave you to keep my appointments," shesaid. "We will meet again at the corner of the Rue Royale, if you reallywill take me on to Boulogne with you?"
"Most certainly," was my reply.
"Ah!" she sighed, looking straight into my face with those great darkeyes that were so luminous, "you do not know--you can never guess what agreat service you have rendered me by allowing me to travel here withyou. My peril is the gravest that--well, that ever threatened a woman;yet now, by your aid, I shall be able to save myself. Otherwise,to-morrow my body would have been exposed in the Morgue--the corpse of awoman unknown."
"These words of yours interest me."
"Ah! m'sieur, you do not know. And I cannot tell you. It is asecret--ah! if I only dare speak you would help me, I know;" and I sawin her face a look full of apprehension and distress.
As she raised her hand to push the dark hair from her brow, as though itoppressed her, my eyes caught sight of something glistening upon herwrist, half concealed by the lace on her sleeve. It was a magnificentdiamond bangle.
Surely such an ornament would not be worn by a mere governess! I lookedagain into her handsome face, and wondered if she were deceiving me.
"If it be in my power to assist you, mademoiselle, I will do so with thegreatest pleasure. But of course I cannot without knowing thecircumstances."
"And I regret that my lips are closed concerning them," she sighed,looking straight before her despairingly.
"Do you not fear to go alone?"
"I fear them no longer," was her reply, as she glanced at the littlegold watch in her bracelet. "We shall be in Paris before teno'clock--thanks to you, m'sieur."
"Well, when you first made the request I had no idea of the urgency ofyour journey," I remarked. "But I'm glad, very glad, that I've had anopportunity of rendering you some slight service."
"Slight, m'sieur? Why, you have saved me. I owe you a debt which I cannever repay--never;" and the laces at her throat rose and fell as shesighed, her wonderful eyes still fixed upon me.
Gradually the yellow sun rose over the bare frozen lands over which wewere speeding, and when at last we entered Paris, I set her down in thePlace Vendome.
"Au revoir, m'sieur, till twelve, at the Rue Royale," she exclaimed,with a merry smile and a bow, as she drove away in a cab, leaving meupon the kerb gazing after her and wondering.
Was she really a governess, as she pretended?
Her clothes, her manner, her smart chatter, her exquisite _chic_, allrevealed good breeding and a high station in life. There was no touch ofcheap shabbiness--or at least I could not detect it.
A few moments before twelve she alighted from the cab at the corner ofthe Rue Royale and greeted me merrily. Her face was slightly flushed,and I thought her hand trembled as I took it. But together we mountedinto the car again.
"You seem a constant traveller on the road, m'sieur," she said, as wewent along.
"I'm a constant traveller," I replied, with a laugh. "A little tooconstant, perhaps. One gets wearied with such continual travel as I amforced to undertake. I never know to-morrow where I may be, and I moveswiftly from one place to another, never spending more than a day or twoin the same place."
I did not, for obvious reasons, tell her my profession.
"But it must be very pleasant to travel so much," she declared. "I wouldlove to be able to do so. I'm passionately fond of constant change."
Together we went on to Boulogne, crossed to Folkestone, and that samenight at midnight entered London.
On our journey she gave me an address in the Vauxhall Bridge Road,where, she said, a letter would find her. She refused to tell me herdestination or to allow me to see her into a hansom. This latter factcaused me considerable reflection. Why had she so suddenly made up hermind to come to London? and why should I not know whither she went, whenshe had told me so many details concerning herself?
Of one fact I felt quite convinced--namely, that she had lied to me. Shewas not a governess, as she pretended. Besides, I had been seized bysuspicion that a tall, thin-faced elderly man, rather shabbily dressed,whom I had noticed idling in the Rue Royale, had followed us by rail. Ithought I saw him outside the Tivoli, in the Strand, where shedescended.
His reappearance there recalled to me that he had watched us in the RueRoyale, and had appeared intensely interested in all our movements.Whether my pretty travelling-companion noticed him I do not know. I,however, watched her as she walked along the Strand carrying herdressing-bag, and saw the tall man striding after her. Adventurer waswritten upon the fellow's face. His grey moustache was upturned, and hiskeen grey eyes looked out from beneath shaggy brows, while his darkthreadbare overcoat was tightly buttoned across his chest for greaterwarmth.
Without approaching her, he stood back in the shadow, and saw her entera hansom and drive towards Charing Cross. It was clear that she was notgoing to the address she had given me, for she was driving in theopposite direction.
My duty was to drive direct to Clifford Street and report to Bindo, butso interested was I in the thin-faced watcher that I turned the car intothe courtyard of the Cecil in the Strand and left it there, in order tokeep further observation upon the stranger.
Had not mademoiselle declared herself to be in danger of her life? Ifso, was it not possible that this fellow, whoever he was, was a secretassassin?
I did not like the aspect of the affair at all. I ought to have warnedher against him, and I now became filled with regret. She was a completemystery, and as I dogged the footsteps of the unknown foreigner--forthat he undoubtedly was--I became more deeply interested in what was inprogress.
He walked to Trafalgar Square, where he hesitated in such a manner as toshow that he was not well acquainted with London. He did not know whichof the converging thoroughfares to take. At last he inquired of theconstable on point duty, and then went up St. Martin's Lane.
As soon as he had turned I approached the policeman and asked what thestranger wanted, explaining that he was a suspicious character whom Iwas following.
"'E's a Frenchman. 'E wants Burton Crescent."
"Where's that?"
"Why, just off the Euston Road--close to Judd Street. I've told 'im theway."
I took a hansom, and drove to the place in question, a semicircle ofdark-looking, old-fashioned houses of the Bloomsbury type--most of themlet out in apartments. Then, alighting, I loitered for half an hour upand down, to await the arrival of the stranger.
He came at last, his tall meagre figure looming dark in the lamp-light.Very eagerly he walked round the Crescent, examining the numbers of thehouses, until he came to one, rather cleaner than the others, of whichhe took careful observation.
I, too, took note of the number.
Afterwards, the stranger turned into the Euston Road, crossed to King'sCross Station, where he sent a telegram, and then went to one of thesmall uninviting private hotels in the neighbourhood. Having seen himthere, I returned to Burton Crescent, and for an hour watched the house,wondering whether the mysterious Julie had taken up her abode there. Tome it seemed as though the stranger had overheard the directions she hadgiven the cabman.
The windows of the house were closed by green venetian blinds. I couldsee that there were lights in most of the rooms, while over thefan-light of the front door was a small transparent square of glass,bearing what seemed to be the representation of some Greek saint. Thefront steps were well kept, and in the deep basement was a well-lightedkitchen.
I had been there about half an hour when the door opened, and amiddle-aged man in evening dress, and wearing a black overcoat and crushhat, emerged. His dark face was an aristocratic one, and as he descendedthe steps he drew on his white gloves, for he was evidently on his wayto the theatre. I took good notice of his face, for it was a strikingcountenance--one which once seen could never be forgotten.
A man-servant behind him blew a cab-whistle, a hansom came up, and hedrove away. Then I walked up and down in the vicinity, keeping a wearyvigil; for my curiosity was now much excited. The stranger meantmischief. Of that I was certain.
The one point I wished to clear up was whether Julie Rosier was actuallywithin that house. But though I watched until I became half frozen inthe drizzling rain, all was in vain. So I took a cab and drove toClifford Street, to report my arrival to Count Bindo.
That same night, when I got to my rooms, I wrote a line to the addressJulie had given me, asking whether she would make an appointment to meetme, as I wished to give her some very important information concerningherself, and to this on the following day I received a reply asking meto call at the house in Burton Crescent that evening at nine o'clock.
Naturally I went. My surmise was correct that the house watched by thestranger was her abode. The fellow was keeping observation upon it withsome evil intent.
The man-servant, on admitting me, showed me into a well-furnisheddrawing-room on the first floor, where sat my pretty travelling-companionready to receive me.
In French she greeted me very warmly, bade me be seated, and after somepreliminaries inquired the nature of the information which I wished toimpart to her.
Very briefly I told her of the shabby watcher, whereupon she sprang toher feet with a cry of mingled terror and surprise.
"Describe him--quickly, M'sieur Ewart!" she urged in breathlessagitation.
I did so, and she sat back again in her chair, staring straight beforeher.
"Ah!" she gasped, her countenance pale as death. "Then they meanrevenge, after all. Very well! Now that I am forewarned I shall know howto act."
She rose, and pacing the room in agitation, pushed back the dark hairfrom her brow. Then her hands clenched themselves, and her teeth wereset, for she was desperate.
The shabby man was an emissary of her enemies, she told me as much. Yetin all she said was mystery. At one moment I was convinced that she hadtold the truth when she said she was a governess, and at the next Isuspected her of trying to deceive.
Presently, after she had handed me a cigarette, the servant tapped atthe door, and a well-dressed man entered--the same man I had seen leavethe house two nights previously.
"May I introduce you?" mademoiselle asked. "M'sieur Ewart--M'sieur leBaron de Moret."
"Charmed to make your acquaintance, sir," the Baron said, grasping myhand. "Mademoiselle here has already spoken of you."
"The satisfaction is mutual, I assure you, Baron," was my reply, andthen we re-seated ourselves and began to chat.
Suddenly mademoiselle made some remark in a language which I did notunderstand. The effect it had upon the new-comer was almost electrical.He started from his seat, glaring at her. Then he began to question herrapidly in the unknown tongue.
He was a flashily-dressed man, of overbearing manner, with a thick neckand square, determined chin. It was quite evident that the warning I hadgiven them aroused their apprehensions, for they held a rapidconsultation, and then Julie went out, returning with another man, adark-haired, lowbred-looking foreigner, who spoke the same tongue as hiscompanions.
They disregarded my presence altogether in their eager consultation,therefore I rose to go; for I saw that I was not wanted.
Julie held my hand and looked into my eyes in mute
appeal. She appearedanxious to say something to me in private. At least that was myimpression.
When I left the house I passed, at the end of the Crescent, a shabby manidly smoking. Was he one of the watchers?
Four days went by. Soon my rest would be at an end, and I should betravelling at a moment's notice with Blythe and Bindo to the farther endof Europe.
One evening I was passing through the great hall of the Hotel Cecil todescend to the American bar, where I frequently had a cocktail, when aneatly-dressed figure in black rose and greeted me. It was Julie, whohad probably been awaiting me an hour or more.
"May I speak to you?" she asked breathlessly, when we had exchangedgreetings. "I wish to apologise for the manner in which I treated youthe other evening."
I assured her that no apologies were needed, and together we strolled upand down the courtyard between the hotel entrance and the Strand.
"I really ought not to trouble you with my affairs," she said presently,in an apologetic tone, "but you remember what I told you when you sokindly allowed me to travel with you--I mean of my peril?"
"Certainly. But I thought it was all over."
"I foolishly believed that it was. But I am watched; I--I'm a markedwoman." Then, after some hesitation, she added, "I wonder if you woulddo me another favour. You could save my life, M'sieur Ewart--if you onlywould."
"Well, if I can render you such a service, mademoiselle, I shall be onlytoo delighted. As I told you the other day, my next journey is toPetersburg, and I may have to start any hour after midnight to-morrow.What can I do?"
"At present my plans are immature," she answered after a pause. "But whynot dine with me to-morrow night? We have some friends, but we shall beable to escape them, and discuss the matter alone. Do come."
I accepted, and she taking a hansom in the Strand, drove off.
On the following night at eight I entered the well-furnisheddrawing-room in Burton Crescent, where three well-dressed men and threerather smart ladies were assembled, including my hostess. They were allforeigners, and among them was the Baron, who appeared to be the mosthonoured guest. It was now quite plain that, instead of being agoverness as she had asserted, she was a lady of good family and theBaron's social equal.
The party was a very pleasant one, and there was considerable merrimentat table. My hostess's apprehension of the previous day had alldisappeared, while the Baron's demeanour was one of calm security.
I sat at my hostess's left hand, and she was particularly gracious tome, the whole conversation at table being in French.
At last, after dessert, the Baron remarked that, as it was New Year'sDay, we should have snap-dragon, and, with his hostess's permission,left the dining-room and prepared it. Presently it appeared in a bigantique Worcester bowl, and was placed on the table close to me.
Then the electric light was switched off, and the spirit ignited.
Next moment, with shouts and laughter, the blue flames shedding a weirdlight upon our faces, we were pulling the plums out of the fire--achildish amusement permissible because it was the New Year.
I had placed one in my mouth and swallowed it, but as I was taking asecond from the blue flames I suddenly felt a faintness. At first I putit down to the heat of the room, but a moment later I felt a sharp spasmthrough my heart, and my brain swelled too large for my skull. My jawswere set. I tried to speak, but was unable to articulate a word.
I saw the fun had stopped and the faces of all were turned upon meanxiously. The Baron had risen, and his dark countenance peered intomine with a fiendish, murderous expression.
"I'm ill!" I gasped. "I--I'm sure I'm poisoned!"
The faces of all smiled again, while the Baron uttered some words whichI could not understand, and then there was a dead silence, all stillwatching me intently--all except a fair-haired young man opposite me,who seemed to have fallen back in his chair unconscious.
"You fiends!" I cried, with a great effort, as I struggled to rise."What have I done to you that you should--poison--me?"
I know that the Baron grinned in my face, and that I fell forwardheavily upon the table, my heart gripped in the spasm of death.
Of what occurred afterwards I have no recollection, for when I slowlyregained knowledge of things around me, I found myself lying beneath abare, leafless hedge in a grass field. I managed to struggle to my feet,and discovered myself in a bare, flat, open country. As far as I couldjudge it was midday. I got to a gate, skirted a hedge, and gained themain road. With difficulty I walked to the nearest town, a distance ofabout four miles, without meeting a soul, and to my surprise foundmyself in Hitchin. The spectacle of a man entering the town in eveningdress and hatless in broad daylight was no doubt curious, but I wasanxious to return to London and give information against those who had,without any apparent motive, laid an ingenious plot to poison me.
At the "Sun" I learned that the time was eleven in the morning. The onlymanner in which I could account for my presence in Hitchin was that,believed to be dead by the Baron and his accomplices, I had beenconveyed in a car to the spot where I was found.
What, I wondered, had become of the fair-haired young man whom I hadseen unconscious opposite me?
A few shillings remained in my pocket, and, strangely enough, beside mewhen I recovered consciousness I had found a small fluted phial marked"Prussic acid--poison." The assassins had attempted to make it apparentthat I had committed suicide!
Two hours later, after a rest and a wash, I borrowed an overcoat andgolf-cap, and took the train to King's Cross. At Judd Street PoliceStation I made a statement, and with two plain-clothes officers returnedto the house in Burton Crescent, only to find that the fair Julie andher friends had flown.
On forcing the door, we found the dining-table just as it had been leftafter the poisoned snap-dragon of the previous night. Nothing had beentouched. Only Julie, the Baron, the man-servant, and the guests had allgone, and the place was deserted.
The police were utterly puzzled at the entire absence of motive.
On my return to my rooms I found orders from Bindo to start at once forPetersburg, which I was compelled to do. So I left London full of wonderat my exciting experience, and not until my arrival at Wirballen, theRussian frontier, six days later, did I discover that, though mypassport remained in my wallet, a special police permit to enable me topass in and out of the districts affected by the revolutionary Terror,was missing! It was a permit which Blythe had cleverly obtained throughone of his friends, a high diplomatist, and without which I could notmove rapidly in Russia.
Was it possible that Julie and her friends had stolen it? Was it to bebelieved that the scoundrelly Baron had attempted to take my life bysuch dastardly trickery in order to secure that all-powerful document?
That it was of greatest value to any revolutionist I knew quite well,for upon it was the signature of the Minister of the Interior, and itsbearer, immune from arrest or interference by the police, might come andgo in Russia without let or hindrance.
Were they Russians? Certainly the language they had spoken was notRussian, but it might have been Polish. Where was the young man who hadbeen my fellow-victim?
Loss of this special permit caused me considerable inconvenience, for Ihad to go to Moscow, and the Terror raging there, I had to get anotherpermit before I could pass and repass the military cordon.
Yes, Julie Rosier was a mystery. Indeed, the whole affair was a completeenigma.
I duly returned to London, after assisting Bindo in trying to make a_coup_ that was unfortunately in vain, and then learnt that the body ofan unknown young man in evening dress had been found in the river Crouchin Essex, and from the photograph shown me at Scotland Yard I identifiedit as that of my fellow-guest.
Through the whole year the adventure has sorely puzzled me, and only theother day light was thrown upon it in the following manner--
I was in Petersburg again, when I received a polite note from GeneralZuroff, the chief of police, requesting me to call upon him. The summon
scaused me considerable apprehension I must admit.
On entering his room at the Ministry, he gave me a cigarette, andcommenced to chat. Then suddenly he touched a bell, another door opened,and I was amazed at seeing before me, between two grey-coatedpolice-officers, a woman--Julie Rosier!
For an instant she glared at me as though she saw an apparition. Then,with a loud scream, she fainted.
"Ah!" exclaimed Zuroff. "Then what is reported is correct--eh? You andyour friend the Baron enticed this Englishman to your house in London,for you knew by some means that he carried the order of the Ministerallowing the bearer free passage everywhere in Russia. You saw that ifyou merely stole it he would give information, and it would beimmediately cancelled. Therefore you cleverly plotted to take his lifeand make it appear as a case of suicide." Then, with a wave of his hand,he said, "Take the prisoner back to the fortress."
The woman uttered no word. She only fixed her big dark eyes upon me withan expression of abject terror, and then the guards led her out.
From a drawer Zuroff took the precious document that had been stolenfrom me, saying--
"Julie Rosier--or Sophie Markovitch, as her real name is--was arrestedin a house in the Nevski yesterday, while the Baron was discovered atthe Hotel d'Angleterre. Both are most violent revolutionists, and tothem is due the terrible rioting in Moscow a few months ago. The Baronwas hand in hand with Gapon and his colleagues, but escaped to England,and has been there for nearly a year, until, as the outcome of thedastardly plot against you, he altered his appearance, and returned asGeorge Ewart, chauffeur to Baron Bindo di Ferraris of Rome. The arrestsyesterday were very smartly made."
"But how do you know the details of the attempt upon me?"
"All men can be bought at a price. They were watched constantly while inLondon. Besides, one of your fellow-guests of that night--revolutionistsall of them--recently turned police spy and reported the facts. It washe who gave us information regarding the whereabouts of Sophie and theBaron."
"But another man--a young fellow with fair hair--ate some of the plumsfrom the snap-dragon and died."
"Yes; he was young Ivan Kinski--a Pole, who, though a Terrorist, wassuspected by his friends of being a spy. You took one plum only, whilehe probably took more. At any rate, you had a very narrow escape. Butyou at least have the satisfaction of knowing that Julie will neveragain fascinate, and the Baron will never again be given an opportunityof preparing his fatal snap-dragon."
My friendliness with Zuroff stood us in good stead; for, a week later,Bindo and Blythe contrived to get a very pretty diamond necklet and pairof earrings from a lady in Petersburg, which fetched six hundred goldenlouis in Amsterdam.
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