* * * * * * * *
I found Wilbur sleuthing the crowd from behind a tall tumbler in the
Excelsior lounge, and dragging him into the lift, hung it up half-way
between here and hereafter, and whispered my great news.
"Where, when?" he cried, blench-blanching.
"In my hotel at midnight," I replied. "I hid in a clothes-basket and
heard all. We will frustrate their knavish tricks, thou and I."
Wilbur did not appear to be as keen as I had expected, he hummed and
hawed and chatted about my amateurishness and impetuosity; but I was
obdurate, and taking him firmly by the arm led him off to dinner.
I hardly let go of his arm at all for the next five hours, judging it
safer so.
Five minutes before midnight I led him up the stairs of my hotel and
tip-toeing into a certain room, clicked on the light.
"See that door over there?" I whispered, pointing, "'tis the
bathroom. Hide there. I shall be concealed in the wardrobe. In
five minutes the conspirators will appear. The moment you hear me
shout, 'Hands up, Otto von Schweinhund, _le jeu est fait_,' or words
to that effect--burst out of the bathroom and collar the lady."
I pushed Wilbur into the bathroom (he was trembling slightly,
excitement no doubt) and closed the door.
I had no sooner shut myself into the wardrobe when a man and a woman
entered the room. They were both in full evening dress, the man was
a handsome rascal, the woman a tall, languid beauty, gorgeously
dressed. She flung herself down in a chair and lit a cigarette. The
man carefully locked the door and crossed the room towards her.
"Hansa," he hissed, "did you get the plans of the fortress?"
She laughed and taking a packet of papers from the bosom of her
dress, flung it on the table.
"'Twas easy, _mon cher_."
He caught it and held it aloft.
"Victory!" he cried. "The Vaterland is saved!"
He passed round the table and stood before her, his eyes glittering.
"You beautiful devil," he muttered, through clenched teeth. "I knew
you could do it. I knew you would bewitch the young attaché. All
men are puppets in your hands, beautiful, beautiful fiend!"
The moment had come. Hastily donning my false nose, I flung open the
wardrobe, shouted the signal and covered the pair with my stiletto.
The woman screamed and flung herself into the arms of her accomplice.
"Ah, ha, foiled again! Curse you!" He snarled and covered me with
the plans of the fortress.
I grappled with him, he grappled with me, the beautiful devil
grappled with both of us; we all grappled.
There was no movement from the bathroom door.
We grappled some more, we grappled all over the table, over the
washstand and a brace of chairs. The villain lost his whiskers, the
villainess lost her lovely golden wig, the hero (me) lost his false
nose. I shouted the signal once more, the villain shouted it, the
villainess shouted it, we all shouted it.
There was no movement from the bathroom door.
We grappled some more, we grappled over the chest of drawers, under
the carpet and in and out of the towel-horse.
A muffled report rang out from somewhere about the beautiful devil.
"For God's sake, go easy!" she wheezed in my left ear. "My corsets
have went!"
Then, as there was still no movement from the bathroom door, and we
none of us had a grapple left in us, we called "time."
Mervyn sat up on the edge of the bed sourly regarding the bedraggled
Queenie.
"In rags once more, twenty pounds' worth of georgette, charmeuse and
ninon whatisname torn to shreds!" he groaned. "Oh, you tom-boy, you!"
"Come and dig these damn whalebones out of my ribs," said she.
I staggered across the room and opening the bathroom door, peered
within.
"Any sign of our friend Sherlock, the spy-hound?" Mervyn enquired.
"Yes," said I. "He's tumbled in a dead faint into the bath!"