"Why? You're the best officer I had. Why the devil did you go into the
Constabulary without talking to me?"
Stormont's upper lip seemed inclined to twitch but he controlled it and
scowled at space.
"Go to bed, you darned fool," said Darragh, carelessly. "You'll find
dry things ready. Ralph will take care of your uniform and boots."
Then he went into his own quarters to read two letters which, conforming
to arrangements made with Mrs. Ray the day he had robbed Emanuel Sard,
were to be sent to Trout Lodge to await his arrival.
Both, written from the Ritz, bore the date of the day before: the first
he opened was from the countess Orloff-Strelwitz:
"Dear Captain Darragh:
"-- You are so wonderful! Your messenger, with the _ten_ thousand
dollars which you say you already have recovered from those miscreants
who robbed Ricca, came aboard our ship before we landed. It was a
godsend; we were nearly penniless, -- and oh, _so_ shabby!
"Instantly, my friend, we shopped, Ricca and I. Fifth Avenue
enchanted us. All misery was forgotten in the magic of that paradise
for women.
"Yet, spendthrifts that we naturally are, we were not silly enough to
be extravagant. Ricca was wild for American sport-clothes. I, also.
Yet -- only _two_ gowns apiece, excepting our sport clothes. And other
necessaries. Don't you think we were economical?"
"Furthermore, dear Captain Darragh, we are hastening to follow your
instructions. We are leaving to-day for your chateau in the wonderful
forest, of which you told us of that never-to-be-day in Riga.
"Your agent is politeness, consideration and kindness itself. We have
our accommodations. We leave New York at midnight.
"Ricca is so excited that it is difficult for her to restrain her
happiness. God knows the child has seen enough unhappiness to quench
the gaiety of anybody!
"Well, all things end. Even tears. Even the Red Terror shall pass
from our beloved Russia. For, after all, Monsieur, God still lives.
"VALENTINE."
"P.S. Ricca has written to you. I have read the letter. I have let
it go uncensored."
* * * * *
Darragh went to the door of his room:
"Ralph! Ralph!" he called. And, when Wier hurriedly appeared:
"What time does the midnight train from New York get into Five Lakes?"
"A little before nine----"
"You can make it in the flivver, can't you?"
"Yes, if I start _now._"
"All right. Two ladies. You're to bring them to the _house,_ not
_here._ Mrs. Ray knows about them. And -- get back here as soon as you
can."
He closed his door again, sat down on the bed and opened the other
letter. His hand shook as he unfolded it. He was so scared and excited
that he could scarcely decipher the angular, girlish penmanship:
* * * * *
"To dear Captain Darragh, our champion and friend--
"It is difficult for me, Monsieur, to express my happiness and my deep
gratitude in the so cold formality of the written page.
"Alas, sir, it will be still more difficult to find words for it when
again I have the happiness of greeting you in proper person.
"Valentine has told you everything, she warns me, and I am, therefore,
somewhat at a loss to know what I should write to you.
"Yes, I know very well what I would write if I dare. It is this: that
I wish you to know -- although it may not pass the censor -- that I am
most impatient to see you, Monsieur. _Not_ because of kindness past,
nor with an unworthy expectation of benefits to come. But because of
friendship, -- _the deepest, sincerest of my_ WHOLE LIFE.
"Is it not modest of a young girl to say this? Yet, surely all the
world which was once _en regle,_ formal, artificial, has been burnt out
of our hearts by this so frightful calamity which has overwhelmed the
world with fire and blood.
"If ever on earth there was a time when we might venture to express
with candour what is hidden within our minds and hearts, it would seem,
Monsieur, that the time is now.
"True, I have known you only for one day and one evening. Yet, what
happened to the world in that brief space of time -- and to us, Monsieur
-- brought _us_ together as though our meeting were but a blessed
reunion after the happy intimacy of many years. ... I speak, Monsieur,
for myself. May I hope that I speak, also, for you?
"With a heart too full to thank you, and with expectations
indescribable -- but with courage, always, for any event, -- I take my
leave of you at the foot of this page. Like death -- I trust -- my
adieu is not the end, but the beginning. It is not farewell; it is a
greeting to him whom I most honour in all the world. ... And would
willingly obey if he shall command. And otherwise -- _all_ else that in
his mind -- and heart -- he might desire.
"THEODORICA."
* * * * *
It was the most beautiful love-letter any man ever received in all the
history of love.
And it had passed the censor.
* * * * *