THE CAPTAIN COMES TO TEA
Jane Gerson, alone for the first time since the incident of the
cigarette on the parade ground a few hours back, sat before a narrow
window in her room at Government House, fighting a great bewilderment.
The window opened on a varied prospect of blooming gardens and
sail-flecked bay beyond. But for her eyes the riot of color and clash
of contrast between bald cliff and massed green had no appeal. Her
hands locked and unlocked themselves on her lap. The girl's mind was
struggling to coordinate scattered circumstances into a comprehensible
whole, to grapple with the ethical problem of her own conduct.
What she knew, or thought she knew--and what she should do--those were
the two saber points of the dilemma upon which she found herself
impaled.
Could there now be any doubt of what she felt to be the truth? First,
she had met Captain Woodhouse on the Express du Nord--an officer in the
English army, by his own statement, returning from leave in England to
his post in Egypt. Then, the encounter of last night at the Hotel
Splendide, Captain Woodhouse first denying his identity, then admitting
it under the enforced pledge that she should not reveal the former
meeting. Captain Woodhouse, not in Egypt, but at Gibraltar, and, as
she had soon learned, there with papers of transfer from an Egyptian
post to the garrison of the Rock. Following this surprise had come
General Crandall's dogged examination of that morning--his blunt
declaration that a serious question as to the captain's position at
Gibraltar had arisen, and his equally plain-spoken threat to have the
truth from her concerning her knowledge of the suspected officer.
To cap all, the message on the cigarette! An informer--she guessed the
prefix to the unfinished word--had denounced "you and Louisa" to
General Crandall. To whom the pronoun referred was
unmistakable--Almer's eagerness to insure Captain Woodhouse's receiving
the cigarette case plainly defined that. As to "Louisa," involved with
Woodhouse, the girl from Hildebrand's was sensible only of a passing
flash of curiosity, made a bit more piquant, perhaps, by a little dart
of jealousy, hardly comprehended as such. A hotel keeper warns an
officer in the Gibraltar garrison that he has been denounced, but in
the same message adjures him to "play your own game." That was the
single compelling fact.
Jane Gerson flushed--in anger, or was it through guilt?--when she found
her lips framing the word "spy"!
Now she understood why General Crandall had put her on the grill--why
he, informed, had leaped to the significance of the gift of roses and
deduced her previous acquaintance with their donor. Her host was not,
after all, the possessor of magical powers of mind reading. He was,
instead, just the sober, conscientious protector of the Rock on whom
rested responsibility for the lives of its defenders and the
maintenance of England's flag there. His duty was to catch--and
shoot--spies.
Shoot spies! The girl's heart contracted at the thought. No, no! She
would not--she could not reveal to the governor the knowledge she had.
That would be to send death to a man as surely as if hers was the
finger at the trigger.
Jane Gerson was on her feet now, pacing the room. Over and over again
she told herself that this man who had come into her life, obliquely
enough, had no claim on her; had brought nothing to her but distress.
He had deceived her even, and then, when caught in the deception, had
wrested from her a promise that she would help him continue further
deception against others. Against her will he had made her a party to
some deep and audacious plot, whose purpose she could not guess, but
which must be but a part of the huge mystery of war.
And soon this Captain Woodhouse was to come to his trial--the purpose
of his invitation to tea that afternoon flashed clear as white light.
Soon she would be in the same room with him; would be forced to witness
the spinning of the web set to trap him. He would come unwarned,
unsuspecting. He might leave that room under guard and with guns at
his back--guns soon to be leveled at his heart. Yet she, Jane Gerson,
possessed the power to save him--as the warning of the cigarette surely
would be saving, once a clever man were put on his guard by it.
Would she speak--and betray General Crandall, her kindly host? Would
she lock her lips and see a man walk blindfolded to his death?
A few minutes before five o'clock, Major Bishop was announced at
Government House and received by General Crandall in the library.
Before Jaimihr Khan, who had preceded the visitor through the double
doors from the hall, could retire, his master stopped him.
"One minute, Jaimihr! Have a seat, Bishop; glad you've come a bit
early. Come here, Jaimihr!"
The tall reedlike figure of the Indian glided to General Crandall's
side. His thin ascetic features were set in their usual mold of
unseeing detachment; only his dark eyes showed animation.
"Yes, my General," he said, as he stopped before the Englishman.
"I have a little commission for you, Jaimihr," General Crandall began,
weighing his words with care. "The utmost discretion--you understand?"
"The utmost. I understand." Jaimihr Khan's lips moved ever so
slightly, and his eyes looked steadily ahead.
"In the course of a few minutes, Captain Woodhouse, of the signal
service, will be here to tea," the general began. The Indian repeated
mechanically: "Cap-tain Wood-house."
"As soon as you have ushered him into this room, you will go as quickly
as you can to the West Barracks. His room will be No. 36, on the
second gallery. You will enter his room with a key I shall give you
and search it from end to end--everything in it. Anything that is of a
suspicious nature--you understand, Jaimihr, what that might be--you
will bring here to me at once."
"It shall be done, General Sahib."
"No one, officer or man, must suspect your errand. No one must see you
enter or leave that room."
"No one," the Indian repeated.
General Crandall went to a wall safe set by the side of the double
doors, turned the combination, and opened it. He took from a drawer
therein a bunch of keys, selected one, and passed it to Jaimihr Khan.
"The utmost care, remember!" he warned again.
"Is it likely I should fail you this time, General Sahib, when so many
times I have succeeded?"
"Make the search complete." General Crandall ignored his servant's
question. "But return as quickly as you can. I shall keep Captain
Woodhouse here until you do so. You must report to me before he leaves
this house."
"When the moment arrives, your servant shall fly, General Sahib," the
Indian replied, and withdrew.
"I say, General, you have a great deal of faith in your Indian," Bishop
ventured, accepting a cigarette from his superior's case. "Rather a
delicate commission you've given him."
"Absolute faith, yes. Been with me five years--picked him up in
Rangoon--have tried him many times, and found him loyal as any officer
in the service." General Crandall put in his words enough emphasis to
carry slight rebuke for the other's implied criticism. But the pursy
little major was too sure of the fine terms of personal friendship
between himself and his superior to feel embarrassment.
"About that girl, General--that cigar girl, Josepha, concerning whom
your beach-comber friend sent that warning this morning from the safe
ground of Spain----"
"Obvious thing would have been to clap her in a cell," the governor
answered. "But I have not, for the very good reason that if there's
anything in this fellow's accusations against her, as well as against
Woodhouse, the game will be to keep her watched and give our captain an
opportunity to communicate with her. Minute he does that--why, we've
got our proof against both."
"Then I take it you've put a trailer on the girl?"
"At eight o'clock to-night I'll know where she's been every hour of the
day," the general returned confidently. "She can't leave the town
without being arrested. Now, as to our plan for Woodhouse's
reception--this affair of Craigen's wife; we might as well agree on
points, so that----" He heard his wife's voice in the room off the
library, and broke off abruptly. "Confound it; the women are coming!
Just step into my room with me, and we'll go over this little matter,
Major."
General Crandall held open a small door at the left of his desk and
followed Bishop through. Lady Crandall and Jane entered the library
almost at the same time.
"This tea of George's is preposterous," the lady of Government House
was grumbling. "Said we must have this man from Egypt here at once."
"If you were English, no tea could be preposterous," Jane countered,
with a brave attempt at lightness. She felt each passing moment a
weight adding to the suspense of the inevitable event.
"Well, I'm going to get it through with just as soon as I can," Lady
Crandall snapped. Then Jaimihr Khan threw open the double doors and
announced: "Cap-tain Wood-house, my lady!"
"Show him up!" she commanded; then in complaint to Jane: "Now where do
you suppose that husband of mine went? Just like him to suggest a tea
and forget to make an appearance."
Captain Woodhouse appeared between the opened doors in khaki and trim
puttees. He stood very straight for an instant, his eyes shooting
rapidly about the room. Lady Crandall hurried forward to greet him,
and his momentary stiffness disappeared. The girl behind her followed
slowly, almost reluctantly. Woodhouse grasped her extended hand.
"It was good of you to send the flowers," she murmured. The man smiled
appreciation.
"Do you know," he said, "after I sent them I thought you'd consider me
a bit--prompt."
"I am learning something every day--about Englishmen," Jane managed to
answer, with a ghost of a smile.
"Always something good, I hope," Woodhouse was quick to retort, his
eyes eagerly trying to fathom the cause of the girl's restraint.
Lady Crandall, who had been vainly ringing for Jaimihr Khan, excused
herself on the necessity of looking after the tea things. Jane
experienced a quick stab of dread at finding herself alone with this
man. Unexpected opportunity was urging a decision which an hour of
solitude in her room had failed to bring. Yet she trembled, appalled
and afraid to speak, before the very magnitude of the moment's
exigency. "A spy--a spy!" whispered austere duty. "He will die!" her
heart cried in protest.
"Miss Gerson, it's good to see you again and know by your handclasp you
have forgiven me for--for what was very necessary at the moment--last
night--our meeting in the Splendide." Captain Woodhouse was standing
before her now, his grave eyes looking down into hers. The girl caught
a deep note of sincerity and something else--something vibrantly
personal. Yet her tongue would not be loosed of its burden.
"A very pretty speech," she answered, with attempted raillery. "I
shall think of it on the boat going home."
"I say, I wish you weren't always in that horrid state of mind--on your
way home mentally," Captain Woodhouse challenged.
"I shall be so in reality day after to-morrow, I hope," she replied.
"Away from all this bewildering war and back in comfortable little New
York." The man seemed genuinely grieved at her announcement.
"New York must be worth while; but I imagine you have nothing
picturesque--nothing old there. I'll wager you haven't a single
converted monastery like Government House in all your city."
"Not many things in New York have been converted," she answered, with a
smile. "Our greatest need is for a municipal evangelist."
False--all false, this banter! She knew it to be, and so she believed
he must read it. And the man--his ease of manner was either that of
innocence or of supreme nerve, the second not less to be admired than
the first. Could it be that behind his serious eyes, now frankly
telling her what she dared not let herself read in them, lay duplicity
and a spy's cunning?
"I fancy you New Yorkers suffer most from newness--newness right out of
the shop," she heard him saying. "But the old things are the best.
Imagine the monks of a long-ago yesterday toasting themselves before
this ancient fireplace." He waved toward the massive Gothic mantel
bridging a cavernous fireplace. An old chime bell, green with
weathering, hung on a low frame beside the firedogs.
"You're mistaken; that's manufactured antiquity," Jane caught him up.
"Lady Crandall told me last night that fireplace is just five years
old. One of the preceding governor's hobbies, it was."
Woodhouse caught at her answer with a quick lifting of the brows. He
turned again to feast his eyes on the girl's piquant face, even more
alluring now because of the fleeting color that left the cheeks with a
tea rose's coldness.
"Miss Gerson, something I have done or said"--the man was laboring
after words--"you are not yourself, and maybe I am respon----"
She turned from him with a slight shudder. Her hand was extended in
mute appeal for silence. He waited while his eyes followed the heaving
of her shoulders under the emotion that was racking her. Suddenly she
faced him again, and words rushed from her lips in an abandon of terror:
"Captain Woodhouse, I know too much--about you and why you are here.
Oh, more than I want to! Accident--bad luck, believe me, it is not my
seeking that I know you are a--a----"
He had started forward at her outburst, and now he stood very close to
her, his gray eyes cold and unchanging.
"Say it--say the word! I'm not afraid to hear it," he commanded
tensely. She drew back from him a little wildly, her hands fluttering
up as if to fend him off.
"You--you are in great danger this minute. You were brought here this
afternoon to be trapped--exposed and made----"
"I was fully aware of that when I came, Miss Gerson," he interrupted.
"The invitation, coming so suddenly--so pressing--I think I read it
aright."
"But the promise you made me give last night!" Sudden resentment
brushed aside for the instant the girl's first flood of sympathy.
"That has involved me with you. Oh, that was unfair--to make me
promise I would not allude to--to our first meeting!"
"Involved you?" He closed one of her hands in his as if to calm her
and force more rational speech. "Then you have been----"
"Questioned by General Crandall--about you," she broke in, struggling
slightly to free her hand. "Questioned--and even bullied and
threatened."
"And you kept your promise?" The question was put so low Jane could
hardly catch it. She slowly nodded.
"Miss Gerson, you will never have cause to regret that you did."
Woodhouse pressed her hand with almost fierce intenseness, then let it
go. Her face was flaming now under the stress of excitement. She knew
tears stood in her eyes, and was angered at their being there; he might
mistake them. Woodhouse continued, in the same suppressed tone:
"You were on the point of using a word a minute ago, Miss Gerson, which
was hard for you to voice because you thought it an ugly word. You
seemed sure it was the right word to fit me. You only hesitated out
of--ah--decency. Yet you kept faith with me before General Crandall.
May I hope that means----"
"You may hope nothing!" Quick rebellion at what she divined to be
coming flamed in Jane's eyes. "You have no right to hope for more from
me than what you forced by promise. I would not be saying what I have
to you if--if I did not feel I--that your life----"
"You misunderstood," he broke in stiffly. "I was on the point of
saying I hoped you would not always believe me a----"
"Not believe!" Her hand went to the broad ribbon belt she wore and
brought out the silver cigarette case. This she passed to him with a
swift gesture.
"Almer, the Hotel Splendide man, gave me this to-day at parade, urging
that I deliver it to you." She was speaking hurriedly. "By a
miracle--the strangest circumstance in the world--I learned the message
this cigarette case was to carry to you. Oh, no, innocently enough on
my part--it came by a chance I must not take the time to explain."
"A message from--Almer to me?" Woodhouse could not conceal the start
her words gave him. He took a step toward her eagerly.
"Yes, a message. You must have it to protect yourself. The message
was this:
"Informer has denounced you and Louisa to----"
Her voice died in her throat. Over Captain Woodhouse's shoulder she
saw a door open. General Crandall and a short fat man in officer's
uniform entered the library.