CROSS PURPOSES
Peretori gave way to a fit of silent laughter. Born comedian that he
was, he fully appreciated the comedy of the situation. He did not need
anyone to tell him why Hunt was here. But there was a serious side to
the matter too, and the prince was not blind to that. Hunt pushed his
way into the dining-room with the air of a man who is quite at home with
his surroundings and put up the lights. As Annette disappeared up the
stairs, Peretori fumbled his way to the telephone and gave Lechmere a
whispered call. He had an idea that he would be in need of assistance
presently, and the sooner it came the better. Then he felt that he could
stand there in the dark and watch the interesting development of events.
Annette came tripping down the stairs again presently with a look of
astonishment on her face. She found Hunt fuming about in the
dining-room. He turned upon her sharply.
"Well?" he asked. "You have aroused your mistress? I trust that she will
not keep me long."
"But it is impossible that she should do anything else, M'sieu," Annette
protested. "I told you that my mistress had gone to bed. I had been out
late to-night myself, and there were things to do after I came in. That
is why I was ready to answer your ring. I say the countess was asleep
under the profound impression that such was the fact. I go to wake my
mistress, and behold she is not in bed at all!"
"What does it matter so long as she gets my message?" Hunt asked
impatiently.
"But she does not get your message, M'sieu," Annette protested. "She is
not there. The countess is not in the house at all. I recollect now that
when I respond to your ring the front door is not fastened. It is plain
to me that my mistress is not in."
Hunt's reply was more forcible than polite. Annette's face flamed with
anger.
"It seems the fashion at present for everybody to say to me that I am a
liar," she cried. "I tell you again that my mistress is not in the
house. You can wait if you like, and I will not go to bed till she come
in. There is no more to be said for the present, M'sieu."
And Annette walked away with her head in the air. There was the sound of
shuffling feet in the hall presently as Robert was smuggled out of the
house, and Annette retired to her dignified retreat in the small back
room. She had hardly regained it before the hall door opened and the
countess came in. Annette, with an air of wounded dignity, proclaimed
all that had recently taken place. As the light flashed on the face of
the countess, Peretori could see that she was visibly disturbed.
"Go to bed, Annette," she exclaimed. "I will see this gentleman who
comes at so strange a time."
The countess passed into the dining-room, and as she did so Peretori saw
the handle of the front door turn very quietly, and Lechmere crept into
the house. He stood motionless just for a moment, then Peretori stepped
out of the little room where he was listening and beckoned to him.
"Come in here," he whispered. "I sent for you because I have an idea
that I shall require your assistance a little later on. Hunt is in the
dining room. Ah, the quarrel has begun!"
"I tell you I have been fooled," Hunt was saying passionately. "Fooled
like a child. You promised me that you would manage that the _Mercury_
should contain an interview with the King of Asturia."
"Well? Did I fail in my promise? Did I not send the king to you in a
condition when he was prepared to say or do anything? Won't it be all
there to-morrow morning?"
"It is all there now," Hunt said with a groan. "Already the country
editions of the paper are on the train. A large proportion of the town
impressions have gone out also. And you have fooled me purposely."
"What is the man talking about?" the countess cried impatiently. "Anyone
would think that I had some object----"
"In making a fool of me. So you have, if I could only understand the
reason. As a matter of fact, I have been hoaxed in the most shameless
manner possible. The man who came to me was an impostor, a fraud, an
actor, and you knew it. When the whole story comes to be told my paper
will be ruined, and I shall be laughed out of London. The real King of
Asturia----"
"The man is mad!" the countess cried. "The real King of Asturia was with
you to-night."
"It is utterly false, and you know it. You are playing this thing off on
me for your own ends. I have just had it from the same source that the
real King of Asturia, accompanied by Captain Alexis and another
gentleman, have left for Dover by a special train an hour ago _en route_
for Asturia. The information came to me from a lady journalist who
actually saw the departure from Charing Cross. The lady in question
makes no mistakes. I have never known her to be wrong. What have you to
say to this?"
For once in her life Countess Saens was absolutely nonplussed. In the
face of this information it was utterly impossible to keep up the
present fraud any longer.
"So you have got the best of me?" she laughed. "It was a daring thing to
do, but I thought that it would pass muster. It cost me a thousand
guineas into the bargain. Mind you, I had not the slightest idea that
the king would take such strong measures as these, and I am obliged by
your priceless information. Now, what can I do to put matters right?"
Hunt made the best of a bad bargain. As a matter of fact he was not
quite blameless in the matter.
"Those papers," he said. "Get me those papers. I dare say I can bluff
the matter through. We can suggest that somebody is personating the real
king. But I must have those papers."
"Ay, if we could only get them!" the countess said between her teeth.
"We have clever people to deal with, and you may thank the way I have
been fooled to-night for the suggestion of the way in which I have done
my best to damage the cause of Asturia. But I am on the track now, and I
am going to get to the bottom of it. The first thing to-morrow morning I
shall go to Charing Cross Hospital."
"What for?" Hunt growled. "You are talking in enigmas so far as I am
concerned."
"Never mind. The enigma will explain itself in good time. I tell you
that you shall have those papers. I'm sorry for the trick I played on
you to-night, but there is a great stake in my hands. It never occurred
to me that the enemy would play so bold a game."
"You hear that?" Lechmere said to his companion. "Now whatever scheme
you have in your mind, my dear prince, it must be abandoned to the
certainty that the Countess Saens does not go to the hospital at Charing
Cross to-morrow. You have a pretty good idea of how things stand, and I
look to you to prevent that. Can you possibly manage it?"
Peretori whispered something reassuring. If Lechmere would stay here for
a time and watch over the progress of events, he might be able to manage
it. Lechmere expressed himself as ready to do anything that was
required.
"Very well," Peretori replied. "I am going to slip away for a time. I
shall be back in ten minutes at the outside. But don't leave the house,
because we have business here later on. There will be a real danger and
peril before us presently."
Lechmere nodded in his turn as Peretori stole softly away. The murmur of
voices from the dining-room was still going on. The conversation had
grown desultory.
"I repeat, I am sorry for the trick I had to play you to-night," the
countess was saying. "But you have only to stick to your guns and stand
out for the genuineness of your interview. Under ordinary circumstances
it would have passed muster. But what possessed the king to take that
decided step? I understood that his nerve was gone. I had it from a sure
source that he never dared set foot in Asturia again. And to have gone
off in that determined manner! What does it mean?"
Lechmere could have answered that question, as he smilingly told
himself. He could tell from the sound of the voices that Hunt was
getting nearer and nearer to the door. Presently the pair emerged into
the hall. It was fully a quarter of an hour now since Peretori had
departed, and Lechmere was getting anxious. At the same moment there was
a knock at the door so sharp and sudden that the countess started, as
did her companion. The former opened the door.
Just for a moment Lechmere craned his neck to see. But all he noted was
a district messenger boy, who handed an envelope to the countess and
profferred his pencil for a receipt. The door closed, and the countess
tore open the envelope eagerly.
"A thick envelope," she said. "Merely my name printed on it in large
letters. What have we here? A visiting card with the name of the Duchess
of Dinon on it. That is the _nom de plume_ adopted by the Queen of
Asturia when travelling. Ah, here is the gist of it! Listen:
"'Meet me to-morrow night Hotel Bristol, Paris, at 9 o'clock.
Ask for Mr. Conway. Am watched. Am anxious to escape. Do not
fail me. Erno.'"
The countess waved the little slip of parchment in triumph over her
head. "From the king!" she said. "From the king to me. He desires to
escape, and that plays my game. Give me the time-table that is on the
hall table behind you."