Prince Ugo Ravorelli was not, that day, the only one whose coming to
Brussels was of interest to Quentin. Dickey Savage came in from
Ostend and was waiting at the Bellevue when he walked in soon after
six o'clock. Mr. Savage found a warm welcome from the tall young man
who had boldly confiscated several hours that belonged properly to
the noble bridegroom, and it was not long until, dinner over, he was
lolling back in a chair in Quentin's room, his feet cocked on the
window sill, listening with a fair and increasing show of interest
to the confidences his friend was pouring forth.
“So you deliberately drove off and left the prince, eh? And she
didn't sulk or call you a nasty, horrid beast? I don't know what the
devil you want me here for if you've got such a start as that. Seems
to me I'll be in the way, more or less,” said Dickey, when the story
reached a point where, to him, finis was the only appropriate word.
“That's the deuce of it, Dickey. I can't say that I've got a safe
start at all, even with her, and I've certainly got some distance to
go before I can put the prince out of the running. You may think
this is a nice, easy, straightaway race, but it isn't. It's going to
be a steeplechase, and I don't know the course. I'm looking for a
wide ditch at any turn, and I may get a nasty fall. You see, I've
some chance of getting my neck broken before I get to the stretch.”
“And some noted genius will be grinding out that Lohengrin two-step
just about the time you get within hearing distance, too. You won't
be two-stepping down the aisle at St. Gudule, but you'll agree that
it's a very pretty party. That will be all, my boy--really all. I
don't want to discourage you and I'm willing to stay by you till
that well-known place freezes over, but I think an ocean voyage
would be very good for you if you can arrange to start to-morrow.”
“If you're going into this thing with that sort of spirit, you'll be
a dead weight and I'll be left at the post,” said Quentin, ruefully.
“Was the prince at the house when you returned from the drive?”
“No; and Mrs. Garrison almost glared a hole through me. There were
icicles on every word when she told poor Dorothy he had been there
and would return this evening.”
“Was she satisfied to finish the drive with you after she had seen
the prince?” Quentin had not told him of the conversation which
followed her demand to be taken home.
“She was very sensible about it,” he admitted, carefully. “You see,
she had an engagement with me, and as a lady she could not well
break it. We got along very nicely, all things considered, but I'm
afraid she won't go out again with me.”
“She won't slam the door in your face if you go to the house, will
she?”
“Hardly,” said the other, smiling. “She has asked me to come. The
prince likes me, it seems.”
“But he likes to be alone with her, I should say. Well, don't
interfere when he is there. My boy, give him a chance,” said Dickey,
with a twinkle.
The duke headed off the two Americans as they left the hotel half an
hour later. He was evidently watching for them, and his purpose was
clear. It was his duty to prevent Quentin from going to the Garrison
home, if possible. After shaking hands with Savage, the little man
suggested a visit to a dance house in the lower end, promising an
evening of rare sport. He and Count Sallaconi, who came up from
Paris with the prince, had planned a little excursion into unusual
haunts, and he hoped the Americans had a few dull hours that needed
brightening. Phil savagely admitted to himself that he anticipated a
good many dull hours, but they could not be banished by the
vulgarity of a dance hall. The long, bony, fierce-mustached count
came up at this moment and joined in imploring the young men to go
with them to the “gayest place in all Brussels.”
“Let's go, Phil, just to see how much worse our New York places are
than theirs,” said Dickey.
“But I have a--er--sort of an engagement,” remonstrated Quentin,
reluctantly. The duke gave him a sharp look.
“Do not be afraid,” he said, laughing easily. “We will not permit
the dancing girls to harm you.”
“He's not afraid of girls,” interposed Dickey. “Girls are his long
suit. You didn't tell me you had an engagement?” Quentin gave him a
withering look.
“I have one, just the same,” he said, harshly.
“You will not accompany us, then?” said the count, the line between
his eyebrows growing deeper.
“I have to thank you, gentlemen, and to plead a previous engagement.
May we not go some other night?”
“I am afraid we shall not again be in the same mood for pleasure,”
said the duke, shifting his eyes nervously. “The count and I have
but little time to give to frivolity. We are disappointed that you
will not join us on this one night of frolic.”
“I regret it exceedingly, but if you knew what I have to do to-night
you would not insist,” said Phil, purposely throwing a cloak of
mystery about his intentions for the mere satisfaction of arousing
their curiosity.
“Very well, mes Americains; we will not implore you longer,”
responded the count, carelessly. “May your evening be as pleasant as
ours.” The two Italians bowed deeply, linked arms and strolled away.
“Say, those fellows know you haven't an engagement,” exclaimed
Savage, wrathfully. “What sort of an ass are you?”
“See here, Dickey, you've still got something to learn in this
world. Don't imagine you know everything. You don't, you know. Do
you think I am going to walk into one of their traps with my eyes
open?”
“Traps? You don't mean to say this dance hall business is a trap?”
exclaimed Dickey, his eyes opening wide with an interest entirely
foreign to his placid nature.
“I don't know, and that's why I am keeping out of it. Now, let's
take our walk, a nice cool drink or two and go to bed where we can
dream about what might have happened to us at the dance hall.”
“Where does she live?” asked Savage, as they left the rotunda.
“Avenue Louise,” was the laconic answer.
“Why don't you say Belgium or Europe, if you're bound to be
explicit,” growled Dickey.
A dapper-looking young man came from the hotel a few paces behind
them and followed, swinging his light cane leisurely. Across the
place, in the shadow of a tall building, the two Italian noblemen
saw the Americans depart, noting the direction they took. It was
toward the Avenue Louise. A smile of satisfaction came to their
faces when the dapper stranger made his appearance. A few moments
later they were speeding in a cab toward the avenue.
“That is her house,” said Phil, later on, as the two strolled slowly
down the Avenue Louise. They were across the street from the
Garrison home, and the shadowy-trees hid them. The tall lover knew,
however, that the Italian was with her and that his willfulness of
the afternoon had availed him naught. Nor could he recall a single
atom of hope and encouragement his bold act had produced other than
the simple fact that she had submitted as gracefully as possible to
the inevitable and had made the best of it.
“Ugo has the center of the stage, and everybody else is in the
orchestra, playing fiddles of secondary importance, while Miss
Dorothy is the lone and only audience,” reflected Dickey.
“I wish you'd confine your miserable speculations to the weather,
Dickey,” said the other, testily.
“With pleasure. To-morrow will be a delightful day for a drive or a
stroll. You and I, having nothing else to do, can take an all-day
drive into the country and get acquainted with the Belgian birds and
bees--and the hares, too.”
“Don't be an ass! What sort of a game do you think those Italians
were up to this evening? I'm as nervous as the devil. It's time for
the game to come to a head, and we may as well expect something
sudden.”
“I think it depends on the prince. If he finds that you haven't torn
down his fences while you had full sway, he'll not be obliged to go
on with the game. He was merely protecting interests that absence
endangered. Now that he's here, and if all is smooth and
undisturbed--or, in other words, if you have failed in your
merciless design to put a few permanent and unhealable dents in the
fair lady's heart--he will certainly discharge his cohorts and enjoy
very smooth seas for the rest of the trip. If you have disfigured
her tender heart by trying to break into it, as a safe-blower gets
into those large, steel things we call safety deposit vaults--where
other men keep things they don't care to lose--I must say that his
satanic majesty will be to pay. Do you think you have made any
perceptible dents, or do you think the safe is as strong and as
impregnable as it was when you began using chisels and dynamite on
it six weeks ago?”
“I can't say that I enjoy the simile, but I'm conceited enough to
think it is not as free from dents as it was when I began. I'm not
quite sure about it, but I believe with a little more time and
security against interference I might have--er--have--''
“Got away with the swag, as Turk would say. Well, it's this way. If
the prince investigates and finds that you were frightened away just
in time to prevent wholesale looting, you'll have to do some expert
dodging to escape the consequences of the crime. He'll have the duke
and the count and a few others do nothing but get up surprise
parties for you.”
“That's it, Dickey. That's what I'm afraid of--the surprise
parties. He's afraid of me, or he wouldn't have gone to the trouble
of having me watched. They've got something brewing or they wouldn't
have been so quiet for the past two weeks. Courant is gone and--”
“How do you know Courant isn't here?”
“Turk says he has disappeared.”
“Turk doesn't know everything. That fellow may have a score of
disguises. These French detectives are great on false whiskers and
dramatic possibilities. The chances are that he has been watching
you night and day, and I'll bet my head, if he has, he's been able
to tell Ugo more about your affair with Miss Garrison than you know
yourself, my boy.”
They turned to retrace their steps, Phil gloomily surveying the big,
partially-lighted house across the way. A man met them and made room
for them to pass on the narrow walk. He was a jaunty, well-dressed
young fellow and the others would have observed nothing peculiar
about him had they not caught him looking intently toward the house
which was of such interest to them. As he passed them he peered
closely at their faces and so strange was his manner that both
involuntarily turned their heads to look after him. As is usually
the case, he also turned to look at them.
“I saw that fello\v in the hotel,” said Savage.
Five minutes later they met Turk and, before they could utter a word
of protest, he was leading them into the Rue du Prince Royal.
“There's a guy follerin' you,” he explained. “An' th' two swells is
drivin' aroun' in a cab like as if they wuz expectin' fun. They just
passed you on th' avenoo, an' now they's comin' back. That's their
rig--cuttin' across there. See? I tell you, they's somethin' in the
air, an' it looks as though it ain't goin' to pan out as they wanted
it to.”
“What's the matter with you? The duke and the count went to a dance
hall,” expostulated Quentin.
“To make a night of it,” added Savage
“Didn't you see a nice lookin' feller up there in th' avenoo, an'
didn't he size you up purty close? That's him--that's Courant, th'
fly cop. Git inside this doorway an' you'll see him pass yere in a
couple of seconds. He's not a block behind us.”
Sure enough the dapper stranger passed by the three men in shadow,
looking uneasily, nervously up and across the street.
“He's lost th' trail,” whispered Turk, after Courant was beyond
hearing.
“The same fellow, I'll be blowed,” said Dickey, in amazement. “Now,
what do you suppose the game is?”
“My idea is that w'en you turned 'em down on th' dance hall job they
was afraid you'd go to th' young lady's house and cut in on th'
prince's cinch, so they had to git a move on to head you off. You
was wise w'en you kicked out of th' dance hall racket. Th' chances
are you'd 'a' got into all kinds o' hell if you'd fell into th'
trap. Say, I'm dead sure o' one er two t'ings. In th' first place,
they've got four or five more ringers than we know about. I seen
Courant talkin' mighty secret-like to two waiters in th' hall this
evenin, an' th' driver o' that cab o' theirn was a baggage hustler
at th' Bellyvoo as late as yesterday.”
“By thunder, I believe their game was to mix us up in a big
free-for-all fight when they got us into that dance dive. That shows
Dickey, how wise I was to decline the invitation,” said Quentin,
seriously. By this time they were some distance behind Turk,
following in the path of the puzzled detective. They saw him look
curiously at the lighted windows of the houses, and overtook him at
the intersection of the Boulevard Waterloo. Just as they came up
from behind, Courant stopped for an instant's conversation with two
men. Their talk was brief and the trio turned to go back over the
path just traversed by Courant The two sets of men met fairly and
were compelled to make room for each other to pass. Courant came to
a full stop involuntarily, but recovered himself and followed his
friends quickly.
“The plot thickens,” observed Phil. “It looks as though they are
rounding up their forces after the miscarriage of the original plan.
Gad, they are hunting us down like rats to-night.”
“The hotel is the safest place for us, and the quicker we get there
the better,” said Dickey. “I'm not armed, are you?”
“Of course not. I hadn't thought of such a thing, but from now on
I'll carry a revolver. Those fellows didn't look especially dainty,
did they?”
“I can't believe that they intend to murder you or anything like
that. They wouldn't dare do such a thing.”
“That's th' game, Mr. Savage; I'm dead sure of it. This was th'
night an' it was to ha' been done in th' dance hall, riot, stampede,
everybody fightin' wild an' then a jab in th' back. Nobody any th'
wiser, see?” The two paled a trifle under Turk's blunt way of
putting it.
When they entered the hotel a short time later the first man they
saw was Prince Ugo. With his dark eyes glowing, his lips parted in a
fine smile, he came to meet them, his hand extended heartily.
“I have asked for you, gentlemen, and you were out. You return just
as I am ready to give up in despair. And now, let me say how happy I
am to see you,” he said, warmly. The Americans shook hands with him,
confusion filling their brains. Why was he not with the Garrisons?
“I knew you were here, Prince Ugo, and would have inquired for you
but that I suspected you would be closely engaged,” said Quentin,
after a moment.
“Earlier in the evening I was engaged, but I am here now as the
bearer of a message to you, Mr. Quentin. Miss Garrison has asked me
to deliver into your hands this missive.” With that he drew from his
pocket a sealed envelope and passed it to Quentin. “I was commanded
to give it you to-night, so perhaps you will read it now.”
“Thank you,” muttered the other, nervously tearing open the envelope
as the prince turned to Dickey Savage. At that moment the duke and
the count strolled into the rotunda, jauntily, easily, as if they
had been no farther than the block just beyond, instead of racing
about in a bounding cab. They approached the group as Phil turned
away to read the note which had come so strangely into his hands.
Dorothy wrote:
“Dear Phil: I trust you to say nothing to Prince Ugo. I mean, do not
intimate that I saw him yesterday when I went to drive with you. He
would consider it an affront. I know it is not necessary to caution
you, but I feel safe in doing so. You will pardon me, I am sure. My
conduct, as well as yours, when we look at it calmly in an
afterlight, was quite extraordinary. So fully do I trust him and so
well does he love me that I know this note comes to you inviolate.
“D.”
Phil's brain was in a whirl. He glanced at the handsome face of
Dorothy's noble lover and then at his swarthy fellow countrymen.
Could they be plotters? Could he be hand-in-hand with those
evil-looking men? He had delivered the note, and yet he so feared
its recipient that he was employing questionable means to dispose of
him. There could be no doubt as to the genuineness of the note. It
was from Dorothy, and the prince had borne it to him direct from her
hand.
“An invitation to dinner?” asked the prince, laughing easily. “Miss
Garrison is alarmingly fond of Mr. Quentin, and I begin to feel the
first symptoms of jealousy. Pardon me, I should not speak of her
here, even in jest.” So sincere was his manner that the Americans
felt a strange respect for him. The same thought flashed through the
minds of both: “He is not a blackguard, whatever else he may be.”
But up again came the swift thought of Courant and his ugly
companions, and the indisputable evidence that the first named, at
least, was a paid agent of the man who stood before them, now the
prince, once the singer in far away Brazil.
“The mention of dinner recalls me to affairs of my own,” continued
Ugo. “To-morrow night I expect a few friends here to dine, and I
have the honor to ask you all to be among my guests. We shall sit
down at nine o'clock, and I only exact a promise that the end may
come within a week thereafter.”
The Americans could do naught but accept, but there was an
oppressive sense of misgiving in their hearts. Mayhap the signal
failure to carry out the plans of one night was leading swiftly and
resolutely up to the success of another. For more than an hour
Quentin and his friend sat silently, soberly in the former's room,
voicing only after long intervals the opinions and conjectures their
puzzled minds begot, only to sink back into fresh fields for
thought.
“I can't understand it,” said Dickey, at last, starting to bed.
“I believe I understand it perfectly. They are on a new tack. It
occurs to me that they fear we suspect something and the dinner is a
sort of peace offering.”
“We may be getting into a nest of masculine Lucretia Borgias, my
boy.”
“Pleasant dreams, then. Good-night!”