"I know a Mr. Thomson," I admitted, "but it is some time since I have
heard from him."
Her eyes mocked me.
"The cleverest of all conspirators," she said, as she came to a
standstill outside her dressing room and waved her hand to Rose and
Leonard, "are those who do not fear to tell the truth. Lies lead far on
the road to failure, but we each have our own methods."
"Believe me," I assured her earnestly, "I have never heard of you in my
life except from the newspapers."
"And you have never seen me before?"
"Never!"
She looked at me steadfastly. Her dark, heavily lidded eyes seemed a
little contracted; her lips smiled as though they had a joke to
themselves. She was a strange-looking creature.
"Well," she conceded, "granted that this is our first meeting--what of
it, Monsieur?"
"I pray that it may not be our last," I answered, with ready sincerity.
Her fingers strayed to the knob of the door.
"You will receive your belated instructions before very long," she said.
"Then I shall make it easy for you. You may visit me when you like. I
live at 96, Milan Court. And so, Monsieur!"
She held her fingers to my lips. I am bound to admit that I hurried back
to Leonard, a little shaken.
"A conquest, my son," he observed, looking up from a bowl of cold water
and rubbing his head vigorously. "Rose is furious with you. She has
asked me to take her out to supper."
"Capital!" I replied spitefully. "I will join you."
* * * * *
Our conversation that evening finally turned upon a subject which we had
once or twice lately skirted somewhat apprehensively. We supped at an
inconspicuous but desirable table in the Milan Grill Room, and in a
style which would have seemed to us, only a few months ago, wildly
extravagant. There was no jazz band to affront our ears and disturb our
digestion. We were in touch with the more epicurean type of deliberate
pleasure-seekers, the more select crowd who had studied or imbibed the
philosophy of pleasure. Everywhere was an air of warmth and luxury. The
men and women, mostly in couples, by whom we were surrounded, were
chiefly those who had eschewed the hysterical quest of promiscuous
pleasure for the more settled but not less fascinating ways of Bohemian
domesticity. An actor-manager, close at hand, was giving a digest of a
play he had read that afternoon to his leading lady--also his
inseparable companion. A celebrated producer and well-known actor was
enjoying a brief period of rest with the only woman in his life who had
learnt to soothe as well as to fascinate. A widely known and hard-worked
barrister, the tragedy of whose domestic life was known to all his
friends, was revelling in one hour of peace during the day in the
company of a sympathetic and very human little lady from an adjoining
theatre. The atmosphere to us, who had only lately found our way into
the paths of prosperity, was almost intoxicating.
It was Leonard who started things by raising his glass to our
benefactor. We drank the toast gratefully enough. Then Rose for the
first time put into words what was so often in the minds of all of us.
"Maurice," she asked me, "how long does our bargain with Mr. Thomson
actually last?"
"There was no time limit," I answered.
"Not, perhaps, in words," she persisted, "but how long in your mind do
you consider we are morally bound?"
"Metaphysical history would suggest the period of our lifetime," I
replied. "There is no precedent for a soul, once disposed of, being
returned to its owner."
She sighed.
"It seems a pity. We really haven't anything more to gain. One would
like to settle down and enjoy now with a clear conscience. Why, one of
you could marry me."
"We hadn't thought of that," Leonard said drily.
"The fact of it is," I groaned, "we are both in love with you." She
leaned back in her chair and looked at us for a moment. I think she
realised that I had spoken the truth.
"Then all I can say," she murmured, "is that you are better actors than
I thought you were--and greater dears."
"We are wandering from the subject," I said firmly. "I propose that we
apply to Mr. Mephistopheles Thomson for a time limit. I should
think----"
That is just as far as I got in my daring proposal. I sat with my mouth
unbecomingly open and a fatuous look of astonishment upon my face. My
two companions also were stricken dumb. Arrived apparently from nowhere,
neat, inconspicuous and unobtrusive, Mr. Thomson paused before our table
and greeted us with pleasing cordiality.
"Congratulations to all of you," he said, as he drew up a chair and
seated himself. "I was at the Parthenon to-night. If Naida Modeschka's
performance was the most wonderful, yours was certainly the most
pleasing item upon the programme."
"We have improved, I think," Rose admitted modestly. "Nice frocks do
make so much difference."
"And good food," Leonard murmured.
"And no anxieties," I ventured.
"Apropos of which," the newcomer enquired, "how goes our bargain? Do you
want your souls back again?"
"If you've quite finished with them," Rose confessed. "We should hate to
seem ungrateful, but so far as we are concerned all our ambitions are
satisfied."
"We are earning twice as much as we spend," Leonard pointed out.
"And we could book up for two years," I put in.
Mr. Thomson, who upon his arrival had made mystic signs to a waiter,
watched the champagne being poured into our glasses. We were not
overcareful in the matter of our expenditure, but champagne was the one
luxury we denied ourselves except on special occasions.
"You disappoint me," our patron confessed.
Rose leaned forward across the table. She spoke quickly, almost
tumultuously.
"Don't think us ungrateful," she begged. "We are not. We often think of
that wretched night at Cromer when you became our good angel. Many and
many a time since we have blessed your name."
Mr. Thomson bowed.
"Ours was a bargain," he said, "and you have fulfilled your share of it.
My disappointment springs from another cause. I have pictured you in my
mind as children of the land of Adventure."
"We have lifted the curtain," I ventured to remind him.
"You have done more," he admitted. "You have all three shown capacity
and courage. Why withdraw? Believe me, the end and aim of life is not
prosperity. The moment the love of adventure ceases, the slumber of
middle age commences. There isn't anything more fatal to genius or to
the fuller life than a contented conscience, a swelling bank account,
and an amble along the easy ways. I give you back what you are pleased
to call your souls, if you will. In five years' time, the three of you
will be prematurely middle-aged, the limits of your ambitions will be
fixed, one day will be as another. With the passing of all mystery from
your lives, will come the adipose somnolence which breeds mental and
moral indigestion."
I think that we were all hypnotised. The calmness of his speech, his
precise and unemotional handling of words, seemed to lend to them an
even greater significance. Before we had realised what was happening,
Mr. Thomson was on his feet again.
"We will make that time limit one year, dating from the night at
Cromer," he pronounced.
"Yes!" we all three assented.
"To-morrow afternoon at four o'clock," he added, turning to me, "you
will call upon Naida Modeschka, the dancer who is now performing at the
Parthenon."
"I have already made her acquaintance," I told him. "She spoke to me
this evening. She referred to you."
Mr. Thomson smiled benevolently.
"Naida is wonderful," he said. "Nevertheless, you will call. Ask her
what has become of Felix Worth. Afterwards, place yourself in her hands.
She will explain exactly what is required of you."
As unobtrusively as he had come, he departed. He attracted no attention,
and looked neither to the right nor to the left. As he vanished through
the revolving door, we all looked at one another.
"Mr. Mephistopheles Thomson," Rose murmured.
"With an accent on the Christian name," Leonard remarked.
* * * * *
Naida received me very graciously on the following afternoon. I was a
little surprised that she had made no attempt whatever to alter her
surroundings or in any way to create an atmosphere. The ordinary hotel
furniture and hangings were lightened only by a profusion of flowers,
mostly deep red roses. In place of the flowing robes one might have
expected, the great dancer wore a severe tailor-made costume of grey
tweed. Her hair was brushed plainly back from her forehead and tied
with ribbon behind. There was no other caller present when I arrived.
"It would be charming of you to come so soon," she murmured, as she held
out her hand, "if it were your own will which brought you."
"My own will would have brought me here in any case," I assured her,
"but as it happens I have another mission. I am to ask you what has
become of Felix Worth."
I looked into the eyes of another woman for a moment, and I was afraid.
Her momentary fit of fury, however, passed. She motioned me to a chair.
"How much do you know of this matter?" she asked.
"Nothing at all," I answered promptly.
"That is the way with him," she ruminated. "His agents never know
anything."
"That does not, I trust, prevent my finding great pleasure in making
your acquaintance, Mademoiselle," I ventured.
She looked at me curiously. Sixty seconds ago I should have described
her as being, off the stage, disappointedly plain. I realised my
mistake.
"It does not prevent your paying me any compliments you choose," she
replied. "There is no reason why we should not be friends--even
comrades. The only cloud between us appears to be that it will fall to
your lot to kill the only man I have ever really cared for."