OLIVA IS WILLING
It seemed that a grey curtain of mist hung before Oliva's eyes. It was a
curtain spangled with tiny globes of dazzling light which grew from
nothing and faded to nothing. Whenever she fixed her eyes upon one of
these it straightway became two and three and then an unaccountable
quantity.
She felt that she ought to see faces of people she knew, for one half of
her brain had cleared and was calmly diagnosing her condition, but doing
so as though she were somebody else. She was emerging from a drugged
sleep; she could regard herself in a curious impersonal fashion which
was most interesting. And people who are drugged see things and people.
Strange mirages of the mind arise and stranger illusions are suffered.
Yet she saw nothing save this silvery grey curtain with its drifting
spots of light and heard nothing except a voice saying, "Come along,
come along, wake up." A hundred, a thousand times this monotonous order
was repeated, and then the grey curtain faded and she was lying on the
bed, her head throbbing, her eyes hot and prickly, and two men were
looking down at her, one of them a big barefaced man with a coarse mouth
and sunken eyes.
"Was it my father really?" she asked drowsily.
"I was afraid of that second dose you gave her last night," said Milsom.
"You are getting a condition of coma and that's the last thing you
want."
"She'll be all right now," replied van Heerden, but his face was
troubled. "The dose was severe--yet she seemed healthy enough to stand a
three-minim injection."
Milsom shook his head.
"She'll be all right now, but she might as easily have died," he said.
"I shouldn't repeat the dose."
"There's no need," said van Heerden.
"What time is it?" asked the girl, and sat up. She felt very weak and
weary, but she experienced no giddiness.
"It is twelve o'clock; you have been sleeping since seven last night.
Let me see if you can stand. Get up."
She obeyed meekly. She had no desire to do anything but what she was
told. Her mental condition was one of complete dependence, and had she
been left to herself she would have been content to lie down again.
Yet she felt for a moment a most intense desire to propound some sort of
plan which would give this man the money without going through a
marriage ceremony. That desire lasted a minute and was succeeded by an
added weariness as though this effort at independent thought had added a
new burden to her strength. She knew and was mildly amazed at the
knowledge that she was under the influence of a drug which was
destroying her will, yet she felt no particular urge to make a fight for
freedom of determination. "Freedom of determination." She repeated the
words, having framed her thoughts with punctilious exactness, and
remembered that that was a great war phrase which one was constantly
discovering in the newspapers. All her thoughts were like this--they had
the form of marshalled language, so that even her speculations were
punctuated.
"Walk over to the window," said the doctor, and she obeyed, though her
knees gave way with every step she took. "Now come back--good, you're
all right."
She looked at him, and did not flinch when he laid his two hands on her
shoulders.
"You are going to be married this afternoon--that's all right, isn't
it?"
"Yes," she said, "that is all right."
"And you'll say 'yes' when I tell you to say 'yes,' won't you?"
"Yes, I'll say that," she said.
All the time she knew that this was monstrously absurd. All the time she
knew that she did not wish to marry this man. Fine sentences, pompously
framed, slowly formed in her mind such as: "This outrage will not go
unpunished, comma, and you will suffer for this, comma, Dr. van Heerden,
full stop."
But the effort of creating the protest exhausted her so that she could
not utter it. And she knew that the words were stilted and artificial,
and the working-cells of her brain whispered that she was recalling and
adapting something she had heard at the theatre. She wanted to do the
easiest thing, and it seemed absurdly easy to say "yes."
"You will stay here until the parson comes," said van Heerden, "and you
will not attempt to escape, will you?"
"No, I won't attempt to escape," she said.
"Lie down."
She sat on the bed and swung her feet clear of the ground, settling
herself comfortably.
"She'll do," said van Heerden, satisfied. "Come downstairs, Milsom, I
have something to say to you."
So they left her, lying with her cheek on her hand, more absorbed in the
pattern on the wall-paper than in the tremendous events which
threatened.
"Well, what's the trouble?" asked Milsom, seating himself in his
accustomed place by the table.
"This," said van Heerden, and threw a letter across to him. "It came by
one of my scouts this morning--I didn't go home last night. I cannot
risk being shadowed here."
Milsom opened the letter slowly and read:
"A man called upon you yesterday afternoon and has made several
calls since. He was seen by Beale, who cross-examined him. Man
calls himself Stardt, but is apparently not British. He is staying
at Saraband Hotel, Berners Street."
"Who is this?" asked Milsom.
"I dare not hope----" replied the doctor, pacing the room nervously.
"Suppose you dared, what form would your hope take?"
"I told you the other day," said van Heerden, stopping before his
companion, "that I had asked my Government to assist me. Hitherto they
have refused, that is why I am so desperately anxious to get this
marriage through. I must have money. The Paddington place costs a small
fortune--you go back there to-night, by the way----"
Milsom nodded.
"Has the Government relented?" he asked.
"I don't know. I told you that certain significant items in the East
Prussian newspapers seemed to hint that they were coming to my
assistance. They have sent no word to me, but if they should agree they
would send their agreement by messenger."
"And you think this may be the man?"
"It is likely."
"What have you done?"
"I have sent Gregory up to see the man. If he is what I hope he may be,
Gregory will bring him here--I have given him the password."
"What difference will it make?" asked Milsom. "You are on to a big
fortune, anyway."
"Fortune?" The eyes of Dr. van Heerden sparkled and he seemed to expand
at the splendour of the vision which was conjured to his eyes.
"No fortune which mortal man has ever possessed will be comparable. All
the riches of all the world will lie at my feet. Milliards upon
milliards----"
"In fact, a lot of money," said the practical Dr. Milsom. "'Umph! I
don't quite see how you are going to do it. You haven't taken me very
much into your confidence, van Heerden."
"You know everything."
Milsom chuckled.
"I know that in the safe of my office you have a thousand sealed
envelopes addressed, as I gather, to all the scallywags of the world,
and I know pretty well what you intend doing; but how do you benefit?
And how do I benefit?"
Van Heerden had recovered his self-possession.
"You have already benefited," he said shortly, "more than you could have
hoped."
There was an awkward pause; then Milsom asked:
"What effect is it going to have upon this country?"
"It will ruin England," said van Heerden fervently, and the old
criminal's eyes narrowed.
"'Umph!" he said again, and there was a note in his voice which made van
Heerden look at him quickly.
"This country hasn't done very much for you," he sneered.
"And I haven't done much for this country--yet," countered the other.
The doctor laughed.
"You're turning into a patriot in your old age," he said.
"Something like that," said Milsom easily. "There used to be a fellow at
Portland--you have probably run across him--a clever crook named Homo,
who used to be a parson before he got into trouble."
"I never met the gentleman, and talking of parsons," he said, looking at
his watch, "our own padre is late. But I interrupted you."
"He was a man whose tongue I loathed, and he hated me poisonously," said
Milsom, with a little grimace, "but he used to say that patriotism was
the only form of religion which survived penal servitude. And I suppose
that's the case. I hate the thought of putting this country in wrong."
"You'll get over your scruples," said the other easily. "You are putting
yourself in right, anyway. Think of the beautiful time you're going to
have, my friend."
"I think of nothing else," said Milsom, "but still----" He shook his
head.
Van Heerden had taken up the paper he had brought down and was reading
it, and Milsom noted that he was perusing the produce columns.
"When do we make a start?"
"Next week," said the doctor. "I want to finish up the Paddington
factory and get away."
"Where will you go?"
"I shall go to the Continent," replied van Heerden, folding up the paper
and laying it on the table. "I can conduct operations from there with
greater ease. Gregory goes to Canada. Mitchell and Samps have already
organized Australia, and our three men in India will have ready
workers."
"What about the States?"
"That has an organization of its own," Van Heerden said; "it is costing
me a lot of money. All the men except you are at their stations waiting
for the word 'Go.' You will take the Canadian supplies with you."
"Do I take Bridgers?"
Van Heerden shook his head.
"I can't trust that fool. Otherwise he would be an ideal assistant for
you. Your work is simple. Before you leave I will give you a sealed
envelope containing a list of all our Canadian agents. You will also
find two code sentences, one of which means 'Commence operations,' and
the other, 'Cancel all instructions and destroy apparatus.'"
"Will the latter be necessary?" asked Milsom.
"It may be, though it is very unlikely. But I must provide against all
contingencies. I have made the organization as simple as possible. I
have a chief agent in every country, and on receipt of my message by the
chief of the organization, it will be repeated to the agents, who also
have a copy of the code."
"It seems too easy," said Milsom. "What chance is there of detection?"
"None whatever," said the doctor promptly. "Our only danger for the
moment is this man Beale, but he knows nothing, and so long as we only
have him guessing there is no great harm done--and, anyway, he hasn't
much longer to guess."
"It seems much too simple," said Milsom, shaking his head.
Van Heerden had heard a footfall in the hall, stepped quickly to the
door and opened it.
"Well, Gregory?" he said.
"He is here," replied the other, and waved his hand to a figure who
stood behind him. "Also, the parson is coming down the road."
"Good, let us have our friend in."
The pink-faced foreigner with his stiff little moustache and his yellow
boots stepped into the room, clicked his heels and bowed.
"Have I the honour of addressing Doctor von Heerden?"
"Van Heerden," corrected the doctor with a smile "that is my name."
Both men spoke in German.
"I have a letter for your excellency," said the messenger. "I have been
seeking you for many days and I wish to report that unauthorized persons
have attempted to take this from me."
Van Heerden nodded, tore open the envelope and read the half a dozen
lines.
"The test-word is 'Breslau,'" he said in a low voice, and the messenger
beamed.
"I have the honour to convey to you the word." He whispered something in
van Heerden's ear and Milsom, who did not understand German very well
and had been trying to pick up a word or two, saw the look of exultation
that came to the doctor's face.
He leapt back and threw out his arms, and his strong voice rang with the
words which the German hymnal has made famous:
"Gott sei Dank durch alle Welt, Gott sei Dank durch alle Welt!"
"What are you thanking God about?" asked Milsom.
"It's come, it's come!" cried van Heerden, his eyes ablaze. "The
Government is with me; behind me, my beautiful country. Oh, Gott sei
Dank!"
"The parson," warned Milsom.
A young man stood looking through the open door.
"The parson, yes," said van Heerden, "there's no need for it, but we'll
have this wedding. Yes, we'll have it! Come in, sir."
He was almost boyishly jovial. Milsom had never seen him like that
before.
"Come in, sir."
"I am sorry to hear your fiancee is ill," said the curate.
"Yes, yes, but that will not hinder the ceremony. I'll go myself and
prepare her."
Milsom had walked round the table to the window, and it was he who
checked the doctor as he was leaving the room.
"Doctor," he said, "come here."
Van Heerden detected a strain of anxiety in the other's voice.
"What is it?" he said.
"Do you hear somebody speaking?"
They stood by the window and listened intently.
"Come with me," said the doctor, and he walked noiselessly and ascended
the stairs, followed more slowly by his heavier companion.