The automobile turned in through the great entrance gates of the South
London Aeronautic Terminus and commenced a slow ascent along the broad
asphalted road to what, a few years ago, had been esteemed a new wonder
of the world. Maggie rose to her feet with a little exclamation of
wonder.
"Do you know I have never been here at night before?" she exclaimed.
"Isn't it wonderful!"
"Marvellous!" Nigel replied. "It's the largest aeronautic station in the
world--bigger, they say, than all our railway termini put together. Look
at the flares, Maggie! No wonder the sky from the housetop at Belgrave
Square seems always to be on fire at night!"
They were approaching now the first of the huge sheds which were
arranged in circular fashion around an immense stretch of perfectly
level asphalted ground. Every shed was as big as an ordinary railway
station, its arched opening framed with electric illuminations. Inside
could be seen the crowds of people waiting on the platforms; in many of
them, the engine of a great airship was already throbbing, waiting to
start. In the background was a huge wireless installation, and around,
at regular intervals, enormous pillars, on the top of which flares of
different-coloured fire were burning. The automobile came to a
standstill before a large electrically illuminated time chart. Nigel
alighted for a moment and spoke to one of the inspectors.
"Which station for the _Black Dragon_, private ship from China?" he
enquired.
The man glanced at the chart.
"Number seven, on the other side," he replied. "You can drive around."
"How is she for time?"
"She crossed the North Sea punctually," he replied. "We should see her
violet lights in ten minutes. Mind the traffic as you pass number three.
The North ship from Norway is just in."
Nigel addressed a word of caution to the chauffeur, and they drove on.
From the first shed they passed a stream of vehicles was pouring
out,--porters with luggage, jostling throngs of newly arrived passengers
on their way to the Electric Underground. They drove into number seven
shed, left the car, and walked to the end of the long platform. The
great arc of glass-covered roof above them was brilliantly illuminated,
throwing a queer downward light upon the long line of waiting porters,
the refreshment rooms, the kiosks and newspaper stalls. In the far end,
a huge airship, bound for the East, was already filling up. Maggie and
her companion stood for a few minutes gazing into the huge void of
space.
"Tell me about Naida," the former begged, a little abruptly.
"Naida is a wonderful woman," Nigel declared enthusiastically. "We
lunched at Ciro's. She wore a black and white muslin gown which arrived
this morning from Paris. Afterwards we went down to Ranelagh and sat
under the trees."
"Throwing yourself thoroughly into your little job, aren't you!" Maggie
sniffed.
"You'll have a chance to catch me up before long," he replied. "Naida
has promised that she will arrange a meeting with the Prince."
"I wonder what Oscar Immelan will have to say about it," Maggie
reflected.
"To tell you the truth," Nigel said hopefully, "I believe that Immelan
is losing ground. His whole scheme is too selfish. Of course, Naida
won't discuss these things with me in plain words, but she gives me a
hint now and then. Amongst her gifts, she has a marvellous sense of
justice and a hatred of any form of bribery. That is where I feel
convinced that she and Immelan will never come together. Immelan could
never see more than the selfish side, even of a world upheaval. Naida
searches everywhere for motive. She has the altruistic instinct. I
wonder no longer at Matinsky. She is a born ruler herself."
"I'm glad you are getting along with her," Maggie remarked. "Look!" she
broke off, catching at his arm. "The violet lights!"
High up in the sky outside, two violet specks of light suddenly rose and
fell like airballs. A crowd of mechanics appeared through subterranean
doors and stood about in the vast arena. Very soon the airship came into
sight, her cars brilliantly illuminated. She circled slowly round and
came noiselessly to the ground, and with the mechanics running by her
side, and her engines now scarcely audible, came slowly into the shed
and to a standstill by the side of the platform. Maggie and her
companion stood well in the background.
"There he is," the latter whispered.
Immelan, suddenly appeared as though from the bowels of the earth, was
shaking hands warmly with a tall, slender man who was one of the first
to descend from the airship. They talked rapidly together for a few
minutes. Then they disappeared, walking down towards the
luggage-clearing station. Maggie watched the retreating figures
earnestly.
"He doesn't look in the least Chinese," she declared.
"I told you he didn't," Nigel replied. "He was considered the
best-looking man of his year up at Oxford."
Maggie was unusually silent on their way back.
"It was perhaps scarcely worth our while, this little expedition of
ours," Maggie said thoughtfully.
"You're not sorry that we came?" he asked.
She shook her head. "I think not," she replied.
"Why only 'think'?"
She roused herself with an effort.
"I don't know, Nigel," she confessed. "I can't imagine what is wrong
with me. I feel shivery--nervous--as though something were going to
happen."
He looked at her curiously. This was a Maggie whom he scarcely
recognised.
"Presentiments?" he asked.
"Absurd, isn't it!" she replied, with a weak smile. "I'll get over it
directly. I don't think I am going to like Prince Shan, Nigel."
"Well, you haven't been long making up your mind," he observed. "I
shouldn't have thought you had been able even to see his face."
"I had a queer, lightning-like glimpse of it," she reflected. "To me it
seemed as though it were carved out of granite, and as though all that
was human about him were the mouth and the eyes. I wish he hadn't been
looking."
"Are you flattering yourself that he will recognise you?" Nigel asked.
"I know that he will," she answered simply.
* * * * *
In a corner of the white-and-gold restaurant at the Ritz on the
following evening, Prince Shan and Immelan dined tête-à-tête, Immelan in
the best of spirits, talking of the pleasant trifles of the world,
drinking champagne and pointing out notabilities; Prince Shan, his
features and expression unchanging, and his face as white as the
perfectly fitting shirt he wore. His clothes were fashionable and
distinctive, his black pearls unobtrusive but wonderful, his smoothly
brushed dark hair, his immaculate finger nails, his skilfully tied tie
all indicative of his close touch with western civilization. There was
nothing, in fact, except his sphinx-like expression, the slightly
unusual shape of his brilliant eyes, and his queer air of personal
detachment, to denote the Oriental. He drank water, he ate sparingly, he
preserved an almost unbroken silence, yet he had the air of one giving
courteous attention to everything which his companion said and finding
interest in it. Only once he asked a question.
"You are well acquainted here, my host," he said. "You know the trio at
the table just behind the entrance--the attractive young lady with her
chaperon, and a gentleman who I rather fancy must be an old college
acquaintance whose name I have forgotten. Tell me some more about them
in their private capacity, and not as saviours of their country."
Immelan frowned slightly as he glanced across the room.
"There is not much to tell," he answered, without enthusiasm. "The young
lady is, as you know, Lady Maggie Trent. The older lady, with the white
hair, is, I believe, her aunt. The name of their escort is Lord
Dorminster. You would probably know him by the name of Kingley--he has
only just succeeded to the title."
Prince Shan was looking straight across the room, his eyes travelling
over the heads of the many brilliant little groups of diners to rest
apparently upon an empty space in the white-and-gold walls. He had been
a great traveller, but always his first evening, when he came once more
into touch with a civilisation more meretricious but more poignant than
his own, resulted in this disturbing cloud of sensations. His
companion's voice sounded emptily in his ears.
"They say that the young lady is engaged to Lord Dorminster. That is
only gossip, however."
For the second time Prince Shan looked directly at the little group. His
eyes rested upon Maggie, simply dressed but wonderfully _soignée_, very
alluring, laughing up into the face of her escort. Their eyes did not
actually meet, but each was conscious of the other's regard. Once more
he felt the disturbance of the West.
"If we should chance to come together naturally," he said, "it would
gratify me to make the acquaintance of Lady Maggie Trent."