At two o'clock in the morning Captain Brown was called by the officer
of the watch, who told him that he was overhauling a good-sized steam
yacht. The latter was heading up for the Straits from the southward,
and the officer judged her to be not more than three or four miles on
the port bow.
Captain Brown, who meant business, was sleeping in his clothes in the
chart-room, and was on the bridge in ten seconds, peering over the
search-light with his big binocular. At two in the morning even the
largest yachts do not show such a blaze of lights as passenger
steamers generally do all night, and the one Captain Brown was
watching had only two or three, besides the regulation ones. She might
be white, too, though she might be a light grey, but he thought on the
whole that she was painted white. She was rigged as a two-masted
fore-and-aft schooner. So was the _Erinna_ now, though she had once
carried square topsails at the fore. She was also of about the same
size, as far as it was possible to judge under the search-light.
Captain Brown did not feel sure that he recognised her, but
considering what his orders were he knew it was his duty to settle the
question of her identity, which would be an easy matter in a quarter
of an hour or less, as the course of the two vessels converged.
He had been told to find the _Erinna_, but for what purpose he knew
not, and he naturally supposed it to be a friendly one. As a first
step, he ordered the Coston signal of his owner's yacht club to be
burned, turned off the search-light, and waited for an answer. None
came, however. Foreign yachts do not always burn signals to please
vessels of other nations.
A couple of minutes later, however, the white beam of a search-light
shot out and enveloped Captain Brown and his ship. The other man was
evidently having a good look at him, for the light was kept full on
for some time. But no signal was burned after it went out. Then
Captain Brown turned on his own light again, and looked once more; and
he had almost made up his mind that the other yacht was not quite as
long as the _Erinna_, when she suddenly starboarded her helm, made a
wide sweep away from him, and headed down the Sicilian coast in the
direction of Catania.
Captain Brown was so much surprised that he lowered his glasses and
looked at his chief mate, whose watch it was, and who was standing
beside him. It really looked very much as if the other vessel had
recognised him and were running away. The chief mate also looked at
him, but as they were more or less dazzled by the search-light that
had been played on them, they could hardly see one another's faces at
all. The captain wished his owner were on deck, instead of being sound
asleep below. Owners who are not at all nautical characters do not
like to be waked up at two o'clock in the morning by inquiries for
instructions. Captain Brown considered the situation for two or three
minutes before he made up his mind. He might be mistaken about the
length and the bows of the _Erinna_, and if by any possibility it were
she, he would not lose much by making sure of her. No other steamer
could now pass out of the Straits without being seen by him.
'Hard-a-starboard,' he said to the mate.
'Hard-a-starboard,' said the mate to wheel.
The big _Lancashire Lass_ described a vast curve at her racing speed,
while the captain kept his eye on the steamer he was going to chase.
Before she was dead ahead the mate ordered the wheel amidships, and
the _Lancashire Lass_ did the rest herself.
'That will do for a course,' the captain said, when he had the vessel
one point on the starboard bow.
'Keep her so,' said the mate to the wheel.
'Keep her so, sir,' answered the quartermaster.
It soon became clear to Captain Brown that he was chasing an
uncommonly fast vessel, though he was willing to admit that he might
have been a little out in judging the distance that separated him from
her. Allowing that she might do sixteen knots, and even that is a high
speed for yachts, he ought to have overtaken her in half an hour at
the outside. But he did not, and he was much puzzled to find that he
had gained very little on her when six bells were struck. Twice
already he had given a little more starboard helm, and the pursued
vessel was now right ahead, showing only her stern-light and the glare
of her after-masthead light.
'Didn't I hear four bells go just after you called me?' he asked of
the mate. 'Or was it five?'
'Four bells, sir. I logged it. At two-twenty we gave chase.'
'Mr. Johnson,' said the captain solemnly, 'he's doing at least
twenty.'
'At least that.'
The quartermaster who came to relieve the wheel at the hour, touched
his cap, and reported eighty-five and eighty-six revolutions of the
port and starboard engines respectively, which meant that the
_Lancashire Lass_ was doing her best. Then he took the other
quartermaster's place.
'Chase,' said the man relieved. 'Keep her so.'
'Keep her so,' answered the other, taking over the wheel.
Captain Brown spoke to his officer.
'Tell them to try and work the port engine up to eighty-six, Mr.
Johnson.'
The chief mate went to the engine telephone, delivered the message,
and reported that the engineer of the watch in the port engine said he
would do his best, but that the port engine had not given quite such a
good diagram as the starboard one that morning.
Then something happened which surprised and annoyed Captain Brown; and
if he had not been a religious man, and, moreover, in charge of a
vessel which was so very high-class that she ranked as third in the
world amongst steam yachts, and perhaps second, a fact which gave him
a position requiring great dignity of bearing with his officers, he
would certainly have said things.
The chased vessel had put out her lights and disappeared into complete
darkness under the Sicilian coast. Again he and his officer looked at
one another, but neither spoke. They were outside the wheel-house on
the bridge on the starboard side, behind a heavy plate-glass screen.
The captain made one step to the right, the mate made one to the left,
and both put up their glasses in the teeth of the gale made by the
yacht's tremendous way. In less than a minute they stepped back into
their places, and glanced at each other again.
Now it occurred to Captain Brown that such a financier as his owner
might be looking out for such another financier as the owner of the
_Erinna_ for some reason which would not please the latter, whose
sailing-master had without doubts recognised the _Lancashire Lass_ at
once, because she was very differently built from most yachts.
'Search-light again, Mr. Johnson,' said the captain.
The great beacon ran out instantly like a comet's tail, and he stood
behind it with his glasses. Instead of a steamer, he saw a rocky islet
sticking up sharp and clear, half a point on the starboard bow, about
three miles off. It was the largest of the Isles of the Cyclops, as he
very well knew, off Aci Reale, and it was perfectly evident that the
chased vessel had first put out her lights and had then at once run
behind the islands, close inshore. Captain Brown reflected that the
captain he was after must know the waters well to do such a thing,
and that the deep draught of his own ship made it the height of folly
to think of imitating such a trick at night. Yet so long as the other
stayed where she was, she could not come out without showing herself
under his search-light.
'Half-speed both engines,' he said quickly.
The mate worked the engine telegraph almost as soon as the captain
began to speak.
'Starboard five degrees more,' said Captain Brown.
The order was repeated to the wheel, and the quartermaster gave it
back, and repeated it a second time when the vessel's head had gone
off to port exactly to the required degree.
'Slow,' said Captain Brown. 'Stop her,' he said a moment later.
Twin-screw steamers cannot be stopped as quickly by reversing as those
with a single screw can, and the _Lancashire Lass_ would keep way on
for three miles or more, by which time she would be abreast of the
islands, and at a safe distance from them. Besides, the spring tide
was now running fresh down the Straits, making a current along the
coast, as Captain Brown knew. The instant the engines stopped, the
third mate came round from the chart-room, where he had been sent to
work a sight for longitude by Aldebaran for the good of his young
nautical soul.
A moment later Mr. Van Torp himself appeared on the bridge in pyjamas.
'Got her?' he asked eagerly.
Captain Brown explained that he thought he had cornered the _Erinna_
behind the islet, but was not quite sure of her. Mr. Van Torp waited
and said nothing, and the chief mate kept the search-light steadily on
the rocks. The yacht lost way rapidly, and lay quite still with the
islet exactly abeam, half a mile off, as the captain had calculated.
He then gave the order to go slow ahead.
A minute had not passed when the vessel that had lain concealed behind
the island ran out suddenly with all her regulation lights up,
apparently making directly across the bows of the _Lancashire Lass_.
Now the rule of the road at sea requires every steamer under weigh to
keep out of the way of any steamer that appears on her starboard side
forward of the beam. At such a short distance Captain Brown had hardly
any choice but to stop his ship again and order 'half-speed astern'
till she had no way, and he did so. She was barely moving when the
order was given, and a few turns of the engines stopped her
altogether.
'Is that the _Erinna_, Captain?' asked Mr. Van Torp.
Captain Brown had his glasses up and did not answer at once. After
nearly a minute he laid them down on the lid of the small box fastened
to the bridge-rail.
'No, sir,' he answered in a tone of considerable disappointment. 'At
four miles' distance she looked so much like her that I didn't dare to
let her slip through my fingers, but we have not lost more than a
couple of hours.'
'What is this thing, anyway? She's coming towards us pretty quick.'
'She's one of those new fast twin-screw revenue cutters the Italians
have lately built, sir. They look very like yachts at night. There's a
deal of smuggling on this coast, over from Malta. She's coming
alongside to ask what we mean by giving chase to a government vessel.'
Captain Brown was right, and when the big cutter had crossed his bows,
she ran all round him while she slowed down, and she stopped within
speaking distance on his starboard side. The usual questions were
asked and answered.
'English yacht _Lancashire Lass_, from Venice for Messina, expecting
to meet a friend's yacht at sea. Thought the revenue cutter was she.
Regretted mistake. Had the captain of the cutter seen or heard of
English yacht _Erinna_?'
He had not. There was no harm done. It was his duty to watch all
vessels. He wished Captain Brown a pleasant trip and good-night.
The Italian officer spoke English well, and there was no trouble.
Revenue cutters are very civil to all respectable yachts.
'Hard-a-starboard. Port engine slow astern, starboard engine
half-speed ahead.'
That was all Captain Brown said, but no one could guess what he was
thinking as his big vessel turned quickly to port on her heel, and he
headed her up for the Straits again. Mr. Van Torp said nothing at all,
but his lips moved as he left the bridge and went off to his own
quarters. It was now nearly four o'clock and the eastern sky was
grey.
The current was dead against the yacht through the Straits, which
were, moreover, crowded with all sorts of large and small craft under
sail, taking advantage of the tide to get through; many of them
steered very badly under the circumstances, of course, and it was out
of the question to run between them at full speed. The consequence was
that it was eight o'clock when the _Lancashire Lass_ steamed slowly
into Messina and dropped anchor out in the middle of the harbour, to
wait while Captain Brown got information about the _Erinna_, if there
were any to be had at the harbourmaster's office. It would have been
folly to run out of the Straits without at least looking in to see if
she were there, lying quietly moored behind the fortress of San
Salvatore and the very high mole.
She was not there, and had not been heard of, but a Paris _Herald_ was
procured in which it was stated that the _Erinna_ had arrived in
Naples, 'owner and party on board.'
'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp, 'let's get to Naples, quick. How long will
it take, Captain?'
'About eight hours, sir, counting our getting under weigh and out of
this crowded water, which won't take long, for the tide will soon
turn.'
'Go ahead,' said Mr. Van Torp.
Captain Brown prepared to get under weigh again as quickly as
possible. The entrance to Messina harbour is narrow, and it was
natural that, as he was in a hurry, a huge Italian man-of-war should
enter the harbour at that very moment, with the solemn and safe
deliberation which the movements of line-of-battle ships require when
going in and out of port. There was nothing to be done but to wait
patiently till the fairway was clear. It was not more than a quarter
of an hour, but Captain Brown was in a hurry, and as there was a fresh
morning breeze blowing across the harbour he could not even get his
anchor up with safety before he was ready to start.
The result of all these delays was that at about nine o'clock he saw
the _Erinna_ right ahead, bows on and only half a mile away, just
between Scylla and Faro, where the whirlpool is still a danger to
sailing vessels and slow steamers, and just as the tide was turning
against her and in his own favour. He did not like to leave the
bridge, even for a moment, and sent the second mate with an urgent
message requesting Mr. Van Torp to come up as soon as he could.
Five minutes earlier the owner had sat down to breakfast opposite Lady
Maud, who was very pale and had dark shadows under her eyes for the
first time since he had known her. As soon as the steward left them
alone, she spoke.
'It is Leven,' she said, 'and he wants me to take him back.'
Mr. Van Torp set down his tea untasted and stared at her. He was not
often completely taken by surprise, but for once he was almost
speechless. His lips did not even move silently.
'I was sure it was he,' Lady Maud said, 'but I did not expect that.'
'Well,' said Mr. Van Torp, finding his voice, 'he shan't. That's all.'
'No. I told him so. If I had been dressed I would have asked you to
put me ashore at Messina. I thought you were going to stop there--the
stewardess told me where we were, but she knew nothing else; and now
we're off again.'
'I can't help it, Maud,' said Van Torp, almost in a whisper, 'I don't
believe it. I don't believe in impossibilities like that beard of his.
It may sound ridiculous in the face of your recognising your own
husband, but it's a solid fact, and you can't get over it. I wish I
could catch the _Erinna_ and show him to that Tartar girl. She'd know
in a minute. He can't be her man and Leven too. There's only one thing
to be done that I can see.'
'What?' asked Lady Maud sadly and incredulously.
'Tell him you'll take him back on condition that he'll shave.'
Mr. Van Torp, who was in dead earnest, had just given his best friend
this piece of sound practical advice when the door opened, though he
had not rung, and the steward announced that the second mate had a
message for Mr. Van Torp. He was admitted, and he delivered it.
The owner sprang to his feet.
'By thunder, we've caught 'em!' he cried, as he rushed out of the deck
saloon.
Lady Maud leaned back and stared at his empty chair, wondering what
was going to happen next.
This was what happened. The _Lancashire Lass_ reversed her starboard
engine with full speed astern, put her helm hard over to port, and
turned back towards the Straits in the smallest space possible for
her, passing less than a cable's length from the Scylla rock, and
nearly running down half a dozen fishing-boats that pulled like mad to
get out of her way; for they supposed that her steering-gear had
broken down, unless her captain had gone raving mad.
While this was going on, Captain Brown himself, with the International
Signal Code in his hand, was calling out letters of the alphabet to a
quartermaster, and before his ship had made half a circle the flags
ran up the single stick the yacht carried.
'My owner has urgent business with your owner,' was what the flags
meant in plain English.
The _Erinna_ was going slow, for Baraka was only just ready to come on
deck, haste being, in her opinion, an invention of Shaitan's.
Logotheti, who wished her to see the Straits, was just inside the door
of the deck saloon, waiting for her to come out of her cabin. The
officer of the watch read off the signals of the other yacht, ran up
the answering pennant, and sent for the sailing-master, but could of
course do nothing else without orders. So the _Erinna_ continued to go
slow. All this took some minutes, for the officer had naturally been
obliged to look up the signal in the Code before answering that he
understood it; and in that time Van Torp's yacht had completed her
turn and was nearly alongside. The _Lancashire Lass_ slowed down to
the _Erinna's_ speed, and the two captains aimed their megaphones
accurately at each other from their respective bridges for a little
pleasant conversation. Captain Brown, instructed by Mr. Van Torp at
his elbow, repeated what his signals had meant. The other
sailing-master answered that he had already informed his owner, who
was coming to the bridge directly.
At that moment Logotheti appeared. There was not much more than a
cable's length between the two yachts, which in land-talk means two
hundred yards. Van Torp also saw a slim young lady in blue serge, with
a veil tied over her hair, leaning on the rail of the promenade deck
and looking towards him. With his glasses he recognised the features
of Baraka.
'Got 'em!' he ejaculated in a low but audible tone of intense
satisfaction.
Logotheti had also seen Van Torp, and waved his hand in a friendly
manner.
'Ask the gentleman if he'll come aboard, Captain,' said the American.
'I can't talk through your cornopean anyway. I suppose we can send the
naphtha launch for him if we stop, can't we?'
'Can't stop here,' answered Captain Brown. 'The currents might jam us
into each other, and we should most likely get aground in any case.
This is not even a safe place for going slow, when the tide is
running.'
'Well, you know your business, and I don't. Tell him we don't want to
interfere with any arrangements he's made, and that if he'll kindly
set the pace he likes we'll trot along behind him till we get to a
nice place, somewhere where we can stop. I suppose he can't run away
from us now, can he?'
Captain Brown smiled the smile of a man who commands a
twenty-three-knot boat, and proceeded to deliver the message in a more
concise form. Logotheti heard every word, and the answer was that he
was in no hurry and was quite at Mr. Van Torp's disposal. He would be
glad to know whom the latter had on board with him.
'Lady Maud Leven, Miss Margaret Donne, Mrs. Rushmore, and Count
Kralinsky,' answered Captain Brown, prompted by Van Torp.
The latter was watching the Greek through a pair of deer-stalking
glasses, and saw distinctly the expression of surprise that came into
his face when he heard the last of the names.
'Tell the gentleman,' said Van Torp, 'that if he'll bring his party
with him when we stop, I'll be very glad to have them all take lunch
with me.'
Captain Brown delivered the message. At such a short distance he did
not even have to raise his voice to be heard through the six-foot
megaphone.
To Van Torp's surprise, Logotheti nodded with alacrity, and the answer
came that he would bring his party with pleasure, but thought that his
visit would be over long before luncheon time.
'All right, good-bye,' said Van Torp, as if he were at the telephone.
'Ring off, Captain. That's all. Just let him give us a lead now and
we'll follow him through this creek again, since you say you can't
stop here.'
As he went off the bridge to return to his breakfast he passed close
to the chief mate, who had turned again, though it was his watch
below.
'I say, Mr. Johnson,' he asked, 'have we got a barber-shop on board
this ship?'
'No, sir,' answered the mate, who knew better than to be surprised at
anything.
'It's no matter,' said Mr. Van Torp. 'I was only asking.'
He went back to his breakfast with an improved appetite. When he
re-entered the saloon Lady Maud was still leaning back in her chair,
staring at his empty place.
'Well,' he said, 'they're both coming on board as soon as we get to a
place where we can stop.'
'Have you really seen the girl?' Lady Maud sat up, as if she were
waking from sleep.
'Oh, yes! There she was, looking over the rail, as neat as a pin, in a
blue serge dress, with a white veil tied over her hair, watching me.
We've got 'em right enough, and that's going to be the end of this
mystery!'
'Did you see any one else on the yacht?'
'Logo. That's all. He and I talked. At least, our captains talked for
us. They do know how to yell, those men! If the girl's the party, Logo
beats the band for brass, that's all I can say!'
'It is rather cool,' said Lady Maud thoughtfully. 'If he's alone with
her, it will be all up with his engagement.'
'Well, if that's the way he's going on, it's about time.' His tone was
all at once serious. 'Now, see here, have I done anything you
consider unfair to make this happen? I want your opinion right away,
for if you think I have, I'll stand up for Logo to Miss Donne as hard
as I can. Just think it over, please, and tell me your honest opinion.
If I've done anything low-down, I want to go right back and begin over
again.'
He was thoroughly in earnest, and awaited her answer with evident
anxiety. Knowing the man as she did, she would not give it hastily,
though it was hard to concentrate her thoughts just then on anything
but her own trouble; for she was quite convinced that Baraka would not
recognise Kralinsky as the man she was looking for, and that this
final proof would settle his identity as Leven, which she already did
not doubt.
She asked one or two questions.
'Before I answer you,' she said, 'tell me something, as you tell me
things, when you do. Have you any entanglement with another woman from
which you feel that you're not perfectly free? I don't like to ask
such a question, and I wouldn't if you had not put me on my honour for
my opinion.'
'No,' answered Van Torp very gravely, 'I have not. No living woman has
any claim on me, and no dead woman could have, if she came to life
again.'
'Then I think you had a right to do what you've done, and what you are
going to do. When a man behaves in that way he deserves no pity, and
now that the crisis is coming I may as well tell you that I've done
everything in my power to make Margaret give him up, ever since I have
been sure that he had taken the girl with him on his yacht. So far as
catching them under Margaret's very eyes is concerned, I'm glad you
have succeeded--very glad!'
On certain points Lady Maud was inflexible as to the conduct of men
and women, but especially of men. 'Mrs. Foxwell' spent much time
behind the Virtue-Curtain, seeking for poor souls who were willing to
be helped, and her experiences had led her to believe a modified
version of the story of Adam and Eve and the Apple-tree which was
quite her own. In her opinion Adam had been in the habit of talking to
his wife about the tree for some time, and when the serpent presented
itself to explain things he discreetly withdrew till the interview was
over. Therefore 'Mrs. Foxwell' was, on the whole, more charitably
inclined to her own sex than the other, and when she was 'Lady Maud'
she held very strong views indeed about the obligations of men who
meant to marry, and she expressed them when the intended bride was a
friend of hers.
'Thank you,' said Mr. Van Torp, after she had finished her speech.
'I'm glad you don't disapprove, for if you did I'd try to begin all
over again, as I told you. Any other question? You said "one or two,"
and I'd like to have them all now.'
'Only one more, though perhaps I've no business to ask it. If Margaret
marries you, shall you want her to leave the stage?'
'Why, no!' answered Mr. Van Torp with alacrity. 'That wouldn't suit my
plans at all. Besides, we're a Company, she and I.'
'What do you mean?' Lady Maud thought he was joking.
'Well, I wasn't going to tell you till we'd organised, but you're as
good as a deaf and dumb asylum about business things. Yes. We're
organising as "The Madame da Cordova and Rufus Van Torp Company." I'm
going to build an opera-house in New York on some land I've got on
Fifth Avenue, and Miss Donne is going to run it, and we mean to have
Wagner festivals and things, besides regular grand opera, in which
she's engaged to sing as often as she likes. There's never been an
opera-house on Fifth Avenue, but there's going to be, and people will
go to it. Miss Donne caught on to the scheme right away, so you see
she's not going to leave the stage anyhow. As for her accepting me, I
can't tell you, because I don't know. Maybe she will, maybe she won't.
That isn't going to interfere with the Company either way. Good
scheme, isn't it?'
'You're a wonderful man,' said Lady Maud, with genuine admiration. 'Do
you mean to say that you have settled all that between you already?'
'She signed the preliminary agreement in Bayreuth, and the papers are
being made out by my lawyer in New York. You don't think it was unfair
to offer to build a theatre and call it after her, do you? That isn't
"exercising undue influence," I suppose?'
'No, and I think you're going to win. The other man hasn't had a
chance since you got into your stride.'
'When a man chucks his chances, I'm not going to pick them up for him.
Charity begins at home.'
'Even if "home" is a bachelor establishment?' Lady Maud smiled for the
first time that day.
They talked a few minutes longer, agreeing that she should tell
Margaret what was going to happen; but that Mrs. Rushmore and
Kralinsky should be kept in ignorance of the plan, the American lady
because she might possibly yield to temptation and tell the Count, and
the latter for obvious reasons. It was not likely that any of them
would be on deck much before Logotheti came on board.
There is good anchorage out of the tidal current at Scaletta, some few
miles below Messina, on the Sicilian side, and towards this well-known
water the _Erinna_ led the way, followed at a short distance by the
_Lancashire Lass_.
Logotheti and Baraka watched her, and the girl recognised Van Torp on
the bridge of his yacht, without even using glasses, for she had eyes
like an eagle's, and the American millionaire stood alone at one end
of the bridge looking towards her.
Logotheti had told her that Kralinsky was on board, and that she
should see him as soon as both yachts could anchor. He explained that
it was an unforeseen coincidence, and that Mr. Van Torp must have
taken him on board somewhere on the previous day. To the Greek's
surprise, Baraka showed no outward sign of emotion. He had promised to
take her to the man, and had said that he was near at hand; that the
meeting should take place sooner than had been intended hardly
surprised her, because she had been so perfectly sure that it was
near. Her only preoccupation now was about her appearance in her
ready-made serge and blouse, when she had meant to show herself to
Kralinsky in the glory of a beautiful and expensive Feringhi dress.
But Logotheti explained that even the richest Feringhi ladies often
wore little blue serge frocks on yachts, and told her to watch the
_Lancashire Lass_ with her glasses, as there were three very great
Feringhi ladies on board, and she might see one, and be reassured; and
presently she saw Lady Maud walking alone on the promenade deck, in
clothes very like her own, excepting that they were black instead of
dark blue. So Baraka was satisfied, but she never took her eyes from
the following yacht, for she hoped that Kralinsky would come out and
show himself.
All at once he was there, taking off his white cap to Lady Maud, and
they stood still facing each other, and talking.
'I see him,' Baraka said in a low voice, without lowering her glasses.
'It is he.'
Logotheti, who had been much absorbed in thinking about his coming
interview with Margaret, raised his glasses too, for he was curious to
see the man at last. He had known Leven for years, though never
intimately, as he knew a vast number of people in London, and he was
struck at once by the resemblance in size, build, and complexion.
'He is fatter than he was, and paler,' Baraka said quietly, 'but it is
he. He is speaking earnestly with the beautiful woman in black. I can
see well. He likes her, but she does not like him. I think she is
telling him so. I am glad. But she is more beautiful than Baraka, even
in those poor clothes. When he sees me, he will deny me, because he
likes the beautiful woman in black. I will tell Spiro to be ready. It
is a pity, but I see there will be no other way. It is his portion and
mine. It is a great pity, for I have been happy with you.'
Instead of any look of anger, Logotheti now saw an expression of
profound resignation in her lovely young features. If he had been less
anxious about his own affairs, he would have smiled at her simplicity.
'When we are on that ship you will let me talk with him a little apart
from the rest, and Spiro shall go behind him and wait, looking at me.
If he denies me, I will make a sign, and Spiro shall shoot him, and
then kill me. It will be very easy and quick.'
'And what will become of Spiro?' inquired Logotheti gravely.
'I do not know,' Baraka said quietly. 'Perhaps he will lose his head.
How can I tell? But he is a good servant, and will obey me. Afterwards
it will not matter, for he is really a Musulman, and will go at once
to paradise if he dies, because he has killed a Christian.'
'But you are a Musulman, and he is to kill you also. What about that?'
'I am only a woman,' answered Baraka with supreme indifference. 'Now I
will call Spiro and tell him what he is to do. He has a good
revolver.'
Logotheti let her clap her hands and send the steward for her man,
and she rose when he appeared and made him follow her a little way
along the deck. The interview did not last long. She handed him her
glasses and made him look carefully at the intended victim; then she
apparently repeated her brief instructions again, pointing here and
there to the deck at her feet, to show him how they were to stand;
after which she turned quietly, came back to Logotheti's side, and sat
down again.
'He understands,' she said. 'It will be quite easy.'
But Logotheti, looking past her as she came forward, had met Spiro's
eyes; and he felt not even the slightest anxiety for Kralinsky's
safety, nor for Baraka's. He was still wondering what he should say to
Margaret, but while he tried to think it over, his eyes dwelt on the
noble little profile of the slender Asiatic girl at his side; and it
occurred to him that, although she had worn man's clothes and done
things that few women would dare to do, for the one purpose of her
life, she would much rather die than show herself on the stage in a
very low dress before thousands of people and sing to them, and take
money for doing it; and he remembered a time, not much more than two
years past, when the mere thought had driven the idea of marrying the
Primadonna quite out of his head for a while, and that, after all, it
had been her physical attraction that had overcome the prejudice,
making him say that he was as much in love with the Cordova as he had
been with Margaret Donne, that 'very nice English girl.' For men are
changeable creatures after they think they have changed themselves to
suit their tastes or their ideals, and the original man in them, good
or bad, fine or coarse, generally comes back in the great moments.
At a distance, Logotheti had supposed that he could somehow account to
the Diva for the position in which he had foolishly placed himself,
because he had done nothing and said nothing that he would have been
ashamed of before her, if she knew the whole truth; and he fancied
that even if they quarrelled she would make up with him before long,
and marry him in the end. He had a good opinion of himself as a
desirable husband; and with reason, since he had been persecuted for
years with offers of excellent marriages from mothers of high degree
who had daughters to dispose of. And beneath that conviction there
lurked, in spite of him, the less worthy thought, that singers and
actresses were generally less squeamish than women of the world about
the little entanglements of their intended husbands.
But now, at the very moment of meeting Margaret, he knew that if he
found her very angry with him, he would simply listen to what she had
to say, make a humble apology, state the truth coldly, and return to
his own yacht with Baraka, under her very eyes, and in full sight of
Lady Maud and Mrs. Rushmore. Besides, he felt tolerably sure that when
Spiro failed to carry out the young Tartar girl's murderous
instructions, she would forget all about the oath she had sworn by the
'inviolable water of the Styx' and try to kill him with her own hands,
so that it would be necessary to take her away abruptly, and even
forcibly.
Matters did not turn out as he expected, however, after the two yachts
stopped their engines in the quiet waters off Scaletta, under the
Sicilian mountains.
Before the _Erinna_ had quite lost her way, Logotheti had his naphtha
launch puffing alongside, and he got into it with Baraka and Spiro,
and the _Lancashire Lass_ had barely time to lower her ladder, while
still moving slowly, before the visitors were there.
Baraka bade Logotheti go up first, and trod daintily on the grated
steps as she followed him. The chief mate and chief steward were
waiting at the gangway. The mate saluted; the steward led the visitors
to the main saloon, ushered them in, and shut the door. Spiro was left
outside, of course.
Lady Maud was there, sitting in an easy-chair in the farthest corner.
She nodded to Logotheti, but did not rise, and paid no more attention
to Baraka than if she had not existed.
Mr. Van Torp shook hands coldly with Logotheti; Baraka walked directly
to Kralinsky, and then stood stone-still before him, gazing up
steadily into his eyes.
Neither Margaret nor Mrs. Rushmore was to be seen. Van Torp and
Logotheti both watched the other two, looking from one face to the
other. Kralinsky, with his eye-glass in his eye, surveyed the lovely
young barbarian unmoved, and the silence lasted half a minute. Then
she spoke in her own language and Kralinsky answered her, and only
Logotheti understood what they said to each other. Probably it did not
occur to Kralinsky that the Greek knew Tartar.
'You are not Ivan. You are fatter, and you have not his eyes.'
Logotheti drew a long breath.
'No,' answered Kralinsky. 'I am Yuryi, his brother. I never saw you,
but he told me of you.'
'Where is Ivan?'
'Dead.'
The proud little head was bowed down for a moment and Baraka did not
speak till several seconds had passed. Then she looked up again
suddenly. Her dark eyes were quite dry.
'How long?'
'More than four months.'
'You know it?'
'I was with him and buried him.'
'It is enough.'
She turned, her head high, and went to the door, and no one hindered
her from going out.
'Monsieur Logotheti!' Lady Maud called him, and the Greek crossed the
saloon and stood by her. 'He is not the man, I see,' she said, with a
vague doubt in her voice.
'No.'
Van Torp was speaking with Kralinsky in low tones. Lady Maud spoke to
Logotheti again, after an instant, in which she drew a painful breath
and grew paler.
'Miss Donne knows that you are on board,' she said, 'but she wishes me
to say that she will not see you, and that she considers her
engagement at an end, after what you have done.'
Logotheti did not hesitate.
'Will you kindly give a message to Miss Donne from me?' he asked.
'That quite depends on what it is,' Lady Maud answered coldly.
She felt that she herself had got something near a death-wound, but
she would not break down.
'I beg you to tell Miss Donne that I yield to her decision,' said
Logotheti with dignity. 'We are not suited to each other, and it is
better that we should part. But I cannot accept as the cause of our
parting the fact that I have given my protection to a young girl whom
I have extricated from great trouble and have treated, and still
treat, precisely as I should have treated Miss Donne if she had been
my guest. Will you tell her that?'
'I will tell her that.'
'Thank you. Good-morning.'
'Good-morning,' said Lady Maud icily.
He turned and went towards the door, but stopped to speak to Van Torp.
'This gentleman,' he said, 'is not the man my guest was anxious to
find, though he is strikingly like him. I have to thank you for giving
her an opportunity of satisfying herself. Good-morning.'
Mr. Van Torp was extremely grateful to Logotheti for having ruined
himself in Margaret's eyes, and would in any case have seen him to the
gangway, but he was also very anxious to know what Kralinsky and
Baraka had said to each other in Tartar. He therefore opened the door
for the Greek, followed him out and shut it behind him. Baraka and
Spiro had disappeared; they were already in the launch, waiting.
'Now what did they say, if it isn't a rude question?' asked the
American.
Logotheti repeated the short conversation almost word for word.
'He said that his name was Yuryi,' he concluded.
'That is George in English.'
'Oh, he's George, is he? And what's his dead brother's name again,
please?'
'Ivan. That is John. Before we part, Van Torp, I may as well tell you
that my engagement with Miss Donne is at an end. She was good enough
to inform me of her decision through Lady Maud. One thing more,
please. I wish you to know, as between man and man, that I have
treated Baraka as I would my own sister since I got her out of prison,
and I beg that you won't encourage any disagreeable talk about her.'
'Well, now,' said the American slowly, 'I'm glad to hear you say that,
just in that way. I guess it'll be all right about any remarks on
board my ship, now you've spoken.'
'Thank you,' said Logotheti, moving towards the gangway.
They shook hands with some cordiality, and Logotheti ran down the
steps like a sailor, without laying his hand on the man-rope, stepped
on board his launch, and was off in a moment.
'Good-bye! good-bye, Miss Barrack, and good luck to you!' cried Van
Torp, waving his cap.
Logotheti translated his words to Baraka, who looked back with a
grateful smile, as if she had not just heard that the man she had
risked her life to find in two continents had been dead four months.
'It was his portion,' she said gravely, when she was alone with
Logotheti on the _Erinna_, and the chain was coming in fast.
Van Torp went back to the main saloon and found Lady Maud and
Kralinsky there. She was apparently about to leave the Count, for she
was coming towards the door, and her eyes were dark and angry.
'Rufus,' she said, 'this man is my husband, and insists that I should
take him back. I will not. Will you kindly have me put ashore before
you start again? My things are ready now.'
'Excuse me,' answered Mr. Van Torp, digging his large thumbs into his
waistcoat pockets, 'there's a mistake. He's not your husband.'
'He is, indeed!' cried Lady Maud, in a tone her friend never forgot.
'I am Boris Leven,' said Kralinsky in an authoritative tone, and
coming forward almost defiantly. 'Then why did you tell the Tartar
girl that your name was George?' asked Mr. Van Torp, unmoved.
'I did not.'
'You've evidently forgotten. That Greek gentleman speaks Tartar better
than you. I wonder where you learned it! He's just told me you said
your name was George.'
'My name is George Boris,' answered Kralinsky, less confidently.
He was not a coward, but he had never been face to face with Van Torp
when he meant business, and the terrible American cowed him.
'My husband's name is only Boris--nothing else,' said Lady Maud.
'Well, this isn't your husband; this is George, whoever he is, and if
you don't believe it, I'm going to give you an object-lesson.'
Thereupon Mr. Van Torp pressed the button of a bell in the bulk-head
near the door, which he opened, and he stood looking out. A steward
came at once.
'Send me Stemp,' said Van Torp in a low voice, as he stepped outside.
'Yes, sir.'
'And, see here, send six sailors with him.'
'Six, sir?'
'Yes. Big fellows who can handle a man.'
'Very good, sir.'
Mr. Van Torp went in again and shut the door. Kralinsky disdained
flight, and was looking out of a window. Lady Maud had sat down again.
For the first time in her life she felt weak.
In less than one minute the door opened and Stemp appeared, impassive
and respectful. Behind him was the boatswain, a huge Northumbrian, and
five young seamen in perfectly new guernseys, with fair quiet faces.
'Stemp.'
'Yes, sir.'
'Take that man somewhere and shave him. Leave his moustache on.' Van
Torp pointed to Kralinsky.
For once in his life Stemp gasped for breath. Kralinsky turned a
greenish white, and seemed paralysed with rage.
'Take his beard off, sir, you mean?'
'Yes. Leave his moustache. Here, men,' added Van Torp, 'take that
fellow outside and hold him down in a chair while Stemp shaves him.
See?' The boatswain looked doubtful. 'He's pretending to be somebody
he's not,' said Van Torp, 'on my ship, and I want to see his face.
It's mutiny if you don't obey orders!'
'Aye, aye, sir,' responded the boatswain cheerfully, for he rather
liked the job since there was a good reason for it.
But instead of going about his business gently, the Northumbrian giant
suddenly dashed past Van Torp in a flash, and jumped and hurled
himself head foremost at Kralinsky's legs, exactly as if he were
diving. In the Count's violent fall the revolver he had drawn was
thrown from his hand and went off in the air. The boatswain had seen
it in time. The big man struggled a little, but the five seamen held
him fast and carried him out kicking.
'Stemp.'
The valet was preparing to follow the prisoner, and was quite calm
again.
'Yes, sir.'
'If he won't sit still to be shaved, cut his head off.'
'Yes, sir.'
Van Torp's eyes were awful to see. He had never been so angry in his
life. He turned and saw Lady Maud pressing her handkerchief to her
right temple. The ball had grazed it, though it had certainly not been
meant for her.
'Rufus!' she cried in great distress, 'what have you done?'
'The question is what he's done to you,' answered Van Torp. 'I believe
the blackguard has shot you!'
'It's nothing. Thank God it hit me! It was meant for you.'
Van Torp's rage instantly turned into tender care, and he insisted on
examining the wound, which was slight but would leave a scar. By a
miracle the ball had grazed the angle of the temple without going near
the temporal artery, and scarcely singeing the thick brown hair.
Van Torp rang and sent for water and absorbent cotton, and made a very
neat dressing, over which Lady Maud tied her big veil. Just as this
was done, Stemp appeared at the door.
'It's ready, sir, if you would like to come and see. I've not
scratched him once, sir.'
'All right.' Van Torp turned to Lady Maud. 'Do you feel faint? Lean on
my arm.'
But she would not, and she walked bravely, holding herself so straight
that she looked much taller than he, though she felt as if she were
going to execution.
A moment later she uttered a loud cry and clung to Van Torp's
shoulder with both hands. But as for him, he said only two words.
'You hellhound!'
The man was not Boris Leven.
[Illustration: "The man was not Boris Leven."]
The eyes, the upper part of the face, the hair, even the flowing
moustaches were his, but not the small retreating chin crossed by the
sharp, thin scar of a sword-cut long healed.
'I know who you are,' said Van Torp, surveying him gravely. 'You're
Long-legged Levi's brother, that disappeared before he did. I remember
that scar.'
The sham Kralinsky was securely tied down in a chair and the boatswain
and the five seamen stood round him, an admiring public. Captain Brown
had been informed of what had happened and was going on, and the
discipline he maintained on board was so perfect that every man on the
watch was at his post, and the steamer was already under weigh again.
The boatswain and his contingent belonged to the watch below, which
had not been called for the start.
'Let me off easy,' said Long-legged Levi's brother. 'I've not done you
any harm.'
'Beyond wounding Lady Maud, after trying to pass yourself off as her
dead husband. No. I won't let you off. Boatswain, I want this man
arrested, and we'll take him and all his belongings before the British
Consul in Messina in less than an hour. You just attend to that, will
you? Somebody go and tell the Captain.'
'Aye, aye, sir.'
For the boatswain and the men had seen and heard, and they knew that
Mr. Van Torp was right, and they respected him, and the foreign
impostor had wounded an English woman; and having given his orders,
the owner and Lady Maud turned and left Long-legged Levi's brother
tied to the chair, in a very dejected state, and his uncertain eyes
did not even follow them.
* * * * *
The rest is soon told. A long inquiry followed, which led to the
solution of the mystery and sent Count Yuryi Leven to Siberia; for he
was Boris Leven's twin brother.
The truth turned out to be that there had been three brothers, the
youngest being Ivan, and they had all entered the same Cossack
regiment, and had served in the Caucasus, where most officers learn
the Tartar language, which is spoken by all the different tribes. It
will be simpler to designate them by the English equivalents for their
names.
Boris behaved himself tolerably well in the army, but both his
brothers, John and George, who was his twin, were broken for cheating
at cards, and emigrated to America. So long as they all wore their
beards, as officers of Cossack regiments usually do, they were very
much alike. They were all educated men of refined tastes, and
particularly fond of music.
When his two brothers were cashiered, Boris resigned, entered the
diplomatic service, married Lady Maud Foxwell, and was killed by a
bomb in St. Petersburg.
John and George separated in America when they were tired of punching
cattle.
John was something of a naturalist and was by far the most gifted of
the three as well as the most daring. He gravitated to China and at
last to Mongolia, wandering alone in search of plants and minerals,
and it was to him that Baraka showed the ruby mine. He got back to
civilisation with his treasure and took it to Petersburg unmolested.
There he found George earning a poor living in an obscure position in
the public service, his conduct in the army having been condoned or
overlooked. John, who was the incarnation of selfishness, would do
nothing for him. George, exasperated by him, and half starved,
murdered him in such a way that he was supposed to have died by an
accident, took possession of his hoard of unsold rubies, and wrote to
his twin brother to come and share the fortune John had left them.
George and Boris had been in constant correspondence, and had even
helped each other with money from time to time. Some weeks elapsed
after Boris's return to St. Petersburg before his death, and during
that time, he told George, who knew London well and had moreover
helped him in his attempt to get a divorce, a vast number of details
about his married life and his wife's behaviour, her character and
tastes. Then Boris was killed in the street, and George left the
country and changed his name, with the vague idea that his own was not
a very creditable one and that if he kept it he might be troubled by
his brother Boris's numerous creditors. He began life over again as
Kralinsky.
He had not entertained the least intention of passing himself for
Boris and claiming Lady Maud as his wife, till he met her, and her
beauty made him lose his head completely when he saw that she took him
for her husband. He would have been found out inevitably sooner or
later, but Van Torp's vigorous action shortened Lady Maud's torments.
George was tried, and Russian justice awoke, possibly under pressure
from England. The family history of the Levens was exhumed and
dissected before the courts. The creditors of Boris Leven appeared in
legions and claimed that in proper course he should have inherited the
rubies from his murdered brother, who would then have been able to pay
his debts. The court thought so too, and ordered the confiscated
treasure to be sold.
But since it had been Boris's, the law was obliged to declare that the
residue of the money, after paying the debts, was the property of
Countess Leven, Boris's widow.
Lady Maud thus found herself in possession of a considerable fortune,
for she accepted the inheritance when she was assured that it would go
to the Russian Crown if she refused it. But there was a fall in the
price of rubies, and the Russian government at once sent an expensive
expedition to find the mine, an attempt which altogether failed,
because Ivan Leven had never told any one where it was, nor anything
about it, and the court only knew from certain jewellers who had dealt
both with Kralinsky and Baraka, that it was 'somewhere in Central
Asia,' which is an insufficient direction, even for a ruby mine.
The wealth Lady Maud thus commands enables her to carry much further
than formerly the peculiar form of charity which she believes to be
her own invention, if it may be properly called charity at all, and
which consists in making it worth while and agreeable to certain
unfortunate people to live decent lives in quiet corners without
starving, instead of calling to them to come out from behind the
Virtue-Curtain and be reformed in public. It is a very expensive
charity, however, and very hard to exercise, and will never be
popular; for the popular charities are those that cost least and are
no trouble.
Madame Konstantinos Logotheti is learning French and English, on the
Bosphorus, with her husband, and will make a sensation when he brings
her to London and Paris. On the day of his marriage, in
Constantinople, Logotheti received a letter from Lady Maud, telling
him how sorry she was that she had not believed him, that day on the
yacht at Scaletta, and saying that she hoped to meet his wife soon. It
was an honest apology from an honest woman.
He received a letter a few days later from Margaret, and on the same
day a magnificently printed and recklessly illustrated booklet reached
him, forwarded from Paris. The letter was from Margaret to tell him
that she also took back what she had thought about Baraka and hoped to
see him and her before long. She said she was glad, on the whole, that
he had acted like a lunatic, because it was likely that they would
both be happier. She herself, she said, was going to be married to Mr.
Van Torp, at St. George's, Hanover Square, before sailing for New
York, where she was going to sing at the Opera after Christmas. If he
should be in town then, she hoped he would come, and bring his wife.
The booklet was an announcement, interleaved with fine etchings, to
the effect that 'The Madame da Cordova and Rufus Van Torp Company'
would open their new Opera House in Fifth Avenue less than two years
hence, with a grand Wagner Festival, to last two months, and to
include the performance of _Parsifal_ with entirely new scenery, and
the greatest living artistes, whose names were given. There was a plan
of the house at the end of the booklet for the benefit of those who
wished to make arrangements for being at the festival, and such
persons were admonished that they must apply early if they expected to
get seats.
* * * * *
Mr. Van Torp had told the Diva that he would like her to choose a
wedding present which she really wanted, adding that he had a few
little things for her already. He produced some of them, but some were
on paper. Among the latter was a house in New York, overlooking the
Park and copied exactly from her own in London, the English architect
having been sent to New York himself to build it. Two small items were
two luxurious private cars of entirely different patterns, one for
America and one for Europe, which she was always to use when she
travelled, professionally or otherwise. He said he did not give her
the _Lancashire Lass_ because 'it wasn't quite new'--having been about
ten months in the water--but he had his own reasons, one of which was
that the yacht represented a sentiment to him, and was what he would
have called a 'souvenir.' But if she could think of anything else she
fancied, 'now was the time.'
She said that there was only one thing she should really like, but
that she could not have it, because it was not in the market. He asked
what it was, and it turned out to be the ruby which Logotheti had
given her, and had taken to Pinney's to be cut, and which had been the
cause of so many unexpected events, including her marriage. Logotheti
had it in his possession, she supposed, but he had shown good taste in
not trying to press it on her as a wedding present, for she could not
have accepted it. Nevertheless, she wanted it very much, more as a
remembrance than for its beauty.
Mr. Van Torp said he 'thought he could fix that,' and he did. He went
directly to Mr. Pinney and asked what had become of the stone. Mr.
Pinney answered that it was now cut, and was in his safe, for sale.
The good man had felt that it would not be tactful to offer it to Mr.
Van Torp. Logotheti, who was a fine gentleman in his way, had ordered
it to be sold, when a good opportunity offered, and directed that the
money should be given to the poor Greeks in London, under the
supervision of Lady Maud Leven, the Turkish Ambassador, and the Greek
Minister, as a committee. Mr. Pinney, after consultation with the best
experts, valued it at fourteen thousand pounds sterling. Mr. Van Torp
wrote a cheque for the money, put the stone into an inner pocket, and
took it to the Diva.
'Well,' he said, smiling, 'here's your ruby, anyway. Anything else
to-day?'
Margaret looked at him wonderingly, and then opened the small morocco
case.
'Oh--oh--oh!' she cried, in rising intimations of delight. 'I never
saw anything so beautiful in my life! It's ever so much more glorious
than when I last saw it!'
'It's been cut since then,' observed Mr. Van Torp.
'It ought to have a name of its own! I'm sure it's more beautiful than
many of the named crown jewels!' She felt half hypnotised as she gazed
into the glorious depths of the great stone. 'Thank you,' she cried,
'thank you so very much. I'm gladder to have it than all the other
things.'
And thereupon she threw her magnificent arms round Rufus Van Torp's
solid neck, and kissed his cool flat cheek several times; and it
seemed quite natural to her to do so; and she wished to forget how she
had once kissed one other man, who had kissed her.
'It wants a name, doesn't it?' assented Mr. Van Torp.
'Yes. You must find one for it.'
'Well,' he said, 'after what's happened, I suppose we'd better call it
"The Diva's Ruby."'
MR. CRAWFORD'S LATEST NOVELS
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=The Primadonna=
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=Fair Margaret= A Portrait.
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=Arethusa=
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_By the author of "Saracinesca," etc._
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American heroines delightful."--_The Times_, London.
=The Celebrity= An Episode
"No such piece of inimitable comedy in a literary way has
appeared for years.... It is the purest, keenest
fun."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._
=Richard Carvel= Illustrated
"... In breadth of canvas, massing of dramatic effect, depth
of feeling, and rare wholesomeness of spirit, it has seldom,
if ever, been surpassed by an American romance."--_Chicago
Tribune._
=The Crossing= Illustrated
"'The Crossing' is a thoroughly interesting book, packed
with exciting adventure and sentimental incident, yet
faithful to historical fact both in detail and in
spirit."--_The Dial._
=The Crisis= Illustrated
"It is a charming love story, and never loses its
interest.... The intense political bitterness, the intense
patriotism of both parties, are shown
understandingly."--_Evening Telegraph_, Philadelphia.
=Coniston= Illustrated
"'Coniston' has a lighter, gayer spirit and a deeper,
tenderer touch than Mr. Churchill has ever achieved
before.... It is one of the truest and finest transcripts of
modern American life thus far achieved in our
fiction."--_Chicago Record-Herald._
Mr. ROBERT HERRICK'S NOVELS
_Cloth, extra, gilt tops, each, $1.50_
=The Gospel of Freedom=
"A novel that may truly be called the greatest study of
social life, in a broad and very much up-to-date sense, that
has ever been contributed to American fiction."--_Chicago
Inter-Ocean._
=The Web of Life=
"It is strong in that it faithfully depicts many phases of
American life, and uses them to strengthen a web of fiction,
which is most artistically wrought out."--_Buffalo Express._
=The Real World=
"The title of the book has a subtle intention. It indicates,
and is true to the verities in doing so, the strange
dreamlike quality of life to the man who has not yet fought
his own battles, or come into conscious possession of his
will--only such battles bite into the
consciousness."--_Chicago Tribune._
=The Common Lot=
"It grips the reader tremendously.... It is the drama of a
human soul the reader watches ... the finest study of human
motive that has appeared for many a day."--_The World
To-day._
=The Memoirs of an American Citizen.= Illustrated with about fifty
drawings by F. B. Masters.
"Mr. Herrick's book is a book among many, and he comes
nearer to reflecting a certain kind of recognizable,
contemporaneous American spirit than anybody has yet
done."--_New York Times._
"Intensely absorbing as a story, it is also a crisp,
vigorous document of startling significance. More than any
other writer to-day he is giving us _the_ American
novel."--_New York Globe._
=Together=
"Journeys end in lovers meeting," says the old saw; so all
novels used to end--in marriage. Yet Mr. Herrick's
interesting new novel only begins there; the best brief
description of it is, indeed,--a novel about married people
for all who are married.
Mr. F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS
Mr. Crawford has no equal as a writer of brilliant
cosmopolitan fiction, in which the characters really belong
to the chosen scene and the story interest is strong. His
novels possess atmosphere in a high degree.
Mr. Isaacs
(India)
Its scenes are laid in Simla, chiefly. This is the work
which first placed its author among the most brilliant
novelists of his day.
Greifenstein
(The Black Forest)
"... Another notable contribution to the literature of the
day. It possesses originality in its conception and is a
work of unusual ability. Its interest is sustained to the
close, and it is an advance even on the previous work of
this talented author. Like all Mr. Crawford's work, this
novel is crisp, clear, and vigorous, and will be read with a
great deal of interest."--_New York Evening Telegram._
Zoroaster
(Persia)
"It is a drama in the force of its situations and in the
poetry and dignity of its language; but its men and women
are not men and women of a play. By the naturalness of their
conversation and behavior they seem to live and lay hold of
our human sympathy more than the same characters on a stage
could possibly do."--_The New York Times._
The Witch of Prague
(Bohemia)
_"A fantastic tale," illustrated by W. J. Hennessy._
"The artistic skill with which this extraordinary story is
constructed and carried out is admirable and delightful....
Mr. Crawford has scored a decided triumph, for the interest
of the tale is sustained throughout.... A very remarkable,
powerful, and interesting story."--_New York Tribune._
Paul Patoff
(Constantinople)
"Mr. Crawford has a marked talent for assimilating local
color, not to make mention of a broader historical sense.
Even though he may adopt, as it is the romancer's right to
do, the extreme romantic view of history, it is always a
living and moving picture that he evolves for us, varied and
stirring."--_New York Evening Post._
Marietta
(Venice)
"No living writer can surpass Mr. Crawford in the
construction of a complicated plot and the skilful
unravelling of the tangled skein."--_Chicago Record-Herald._
"He has gone back to the field of his earlier triumphs, and
has, perhaps, scored the greatest triumph of them
all."--_New York Herald._
Mr. F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS
NOVELS OF ROMAN SOCIAL LIFE
_In decorated cloth covers, each, $1.50_
=A Roman Singer=
"One of the earliest and best works of this famous
novelist.... None but a genuine artist could have made so
true a picture of human life, crossed by human passions and
interwoven with human weakness. It is a perfect specimen of
literary art."--_The Newark Advertiser._
=Marzio's Crucifix=
"We have repeatedly had occasion to say that Mr. Crawford
possesses in an extraordinary degree the art of constructing
a story. It is as if it could not have been written
otherwise, so naturally does the story unfold itself, and so
logical and consistent is the sequence of incident after
incident. As a story, _Marzio's Crucifix_ is perfectly
constructed."--_New York Commercial Advertiser._
=Heart of Rome.= A Tale of the Lost Water
"Mr. Crawford has written a story of absorbing interest, a
story with a genuine thrill in it; he has drawn his
characters with a sure and brilliant touch, and he has said
many things surpassingly well."--_New York Times Saturday
Review._
=Cecilia.= A Story of Modern Rome
"That F. Marion Crawford is a master of mystery needs no new
telling.... His latest novel, _Cecilia_, is as weird as
anything he has done since the memorable _Mr. Isaacs_.... A
strong, interesting, dramatic story, with the picturesque
Roman setting beautifully handled as only a master's touch
could do it."--_Philadelphia Evening Telegraph._
=Whosoever Shall Offend=
"It is a story sustained from beginning to end by an ever
increasing dramatic quality."--_New York Evening Post._
=Pietro Ghisleri=
"The imaginative richness, the marvellous ingenuity of plot,
the power and subtlety of the portrayal of character, the
charm of the romantic environment,--the entire atmosphere,
indeed,--rank this novel at once among the great
creations."--_The Boston Budget._
=To Leeward=
"The four characters with whose fortunes this novel deals
are, perhaps, the most brilliantly executed portraits in the
whole of Mr. Crawford's long picture gallery, while for
subtle insight into the springs of human passion and for
swift dramatic action none of the novels surpasses this
one."--_The News and Courier._
=A Lady of Rome=
Mr. F. MARION CRAWFORD'S NOVELS
WITH SCENES LAID IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA
_In the binding of the Uniform Edition_
=A Tale of a Lonely Parish=
"It is a pleasure to have anything so perfect of its kind as
this brief and vivid story.... It is doubly a success, being
full of human sympathy, as well as thoroughly artistic in
its nice balancing of the unusual with the commonplace, the
clever juxtaposition of innocence and guilt, comedy and
tragedy, simplicity and intrigue."--_Critic._
=Dr. Claudius.= A True Story
The scene changes from Heidelberg to New York, and much of
the story develops during the ocean voyage.
"There is a satisfying quality in Mr. Crawford's strong,
vital, forceful stories."--_Boston Herald._
=An American Politician.= The scenes are laid in Boston
"It need scarcely be said that the story is skilfully and
picturesquely written, portraying sharply individual
characters in well-defined surroundings."--_New York
Commercial Advertiser._
=The Three Fates=
"Mr. Crawford has manifestly brought his best qualities as a
student of human nature and his finest resources as a master
of an original and picturesque style to bear upon this
story. Taken for all in all, it is one of the most pleasing
of all his productions in fiction, and it affords a view of
certain phases of American, or perhaps we should say of New
York, life that have not hitherto been treated with anything
like the same adequacy and felicity."--_Boston Beacon._
=Marion Darche=
"Full enough of incident to have furnished material for
three or four stories.... A most interesting and engrossing
book. Every page unfolds new possibilities, and the
incidents multiply rapidly."--_Detroit Free Press._
"We are disposed to rank _Marion Darche_ as the best of Mr.
Crawford's American stories."--_The Literary World._
=Katharine Lauderdale=
=The Ralstons.= A Sequel to "Katharine Lauderdale"
"Mr. Crawford at his best is a great novelist, and in
_Katharine Lauderdale_ we have him at his best."--_Boston
Daily Advertiser._
"A most admirable novel, excellent in style, flashing with
humor, and full of the ripest and wisest reflections upon
men and women."--_The Westminster Gazette._
"It is the first time, we think, in American fiction that
any such breadth of view has shown itself in the study of
our social framework."--_Life._
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
PUBLISHERS, 64-66 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK