Peter met de Kervoisin's shrewd eyes fixed searchingly upon him. He gave
a quaint, good-humoured laugh.
"Are you trying to make up your mind, sir," he asked, "just what kind of
a blackguard I am?"
M. de Kervoisin's thin lips curled in a wry smile. "I am not sure," he
said, "that you are a blackguard. But I confess that I do not understand
you."
"Which is very flattering, sir. But isn't it natural that a man should
covet a beautiful property and seize the cheapest means to become
possessed of it? That sort of thing has been largely done by the
conquering nations since the war. Then why not by individuals?"
"Why not, as you say? But I was not thinking of that side of the
question, chiefly because I do not believe that you stole Lady
Tarkington's manuscript in order to drive a bargain with our friend here
over the Kis-Imre property. I may be wrong, but you don't look to me the
sort of man who would do this dirty trick for mere gain. I am giving you
the credit of desiring above all to save your kinsfolk, young and old,
from certain highly unpleasant eventualities."
"You are very generous, sir, in your estimate of me.
"The question is," Kervoisin mused, "whether after all this they will be
grateful to you for what you have done, or will they hate you, do you
think, for what the publication of those articles will mean to their
people? Lady Tarkington must at one time have intended to publish those
articles, since she took the trouble to write them. Something turned her
from the purpose: either her own conviction, or the desire of the Imreys
themselves."
"I suppose so," Peter said, with a shrug of complete indifference.
"Whereupon you, my dear friend, stepped in like an unwanted _deus ex
machinâ_, and settled the business to your own satisfaction, if not to
theirs."
"I never was good at Latin," Peter said, with his most engaging smile,
"but we'll leave it at that if you like."
De Kervoisin was silent for a moment or two, his attention being
seemingly riveted on the rings of smoke that rose from his cigarette.
"I wonder," he murmured after a while.
"Don't trouble, sir. I am not worth it."
"Ah! but youth always is a perpetual wonder to me. It is such a long
time since I was young myself. And I was wondering which of the two
levers youth pulled in order to make you act as you did."
"Two levers?"
"Love or hate."
Then, as Peter was silent in his turn, M. de Kervoisin went on: "You
know, we in France always look for the woman in every case. Now here we
have not far to seek. And yet love would seem to me to have gained
nothing by this adventure, whilst hate, on the other hand----"
He paused abruptly, his keen eyes narrowed, and his lips curled in a
sardonic smile.
"Ah!" he said. "I think I understand, after all."
"That's more than I do, sir," Peter retorted ingenuously.
M. de Kervoisin would no doubt have pursued the subject, which seemed
greatly to interest him, had not Naniescu just then made a noisy
re-entry into the room. He had a large, official-looking document in his
hand, which he threw down on the table.
"Have a look at this, my dear Monsieur Blakeney," he said curtly. "I
think that you will find it in order."
Peter took up the paper and examined it at great length. It was a
receipt for the sum of forty-five thousand pounds sterling, in full
satisfaction for the sale of the estate of Kis-Imre here described as
the property of the Crown of Roumania. It was signed with Naniescu's
elaborate flourish, countersigned and stamped; it stated further that
the sale would be duly inscribed in the Bureau des Hypothèques in
accordance with the law, and the _acte de vente_ and title-deeds handed
over within one month to M. Peter Blakeney or his duly appointed
representative.
It was all in order. Peter folded the receipt, but before putting it
away he said to Naniescu:
"The whole thing, of course, is conditional on a free pardon being
granted to Philip Imrey and Anna Heves, with permission to leave the
country immediately. That was the original bargain between yourself and
Lady Tarkington."
"They can dear out of the country the day the last of these articles is
published in the _Times_," Naniescu rejoined gruffly. "I'll arrange for
that fool Maurus Imrey and his wife to clear out at the same time. The
sooner I am rid of the whole brood of them, the better I shall like it."
"I am sure you will," Peter said blandly. "Then perhaps you won't mind
letting me have passports for them. You can post-date them, of course. I
shouldn't then have to intrude on you again."
"You are very kind. The passports post-dated, say, a week from to-day
will be in the bureau at your disposal whenever you like to call for
them. You understand that I should revoke them if at least one of these
articles has not appeared within the week."
"I quite understand," Peter concluded. Everything now being in order, he
slipped the receipt into his pocket-book, then, without further words,
he handed Rosemary's manuscript over to Naniescu.
"You have the covering letter," he said simply.
Naniescu nodded, and he took the papers with a sigh of satisfaction,
which he did not even attempt to disguise. His ill-temper had vanished.
The day-dream was coming true: the journey to Bucharest, the thanks of
his King, the reward from a grateful Government! Naniescu felt at peace
with all the world. He would even have hugged Peter to his breast.
"We part the best of friends," he said suavely, "my dear Monsieur
Blakeney."
"Oh! the very best," Peter assented.
"And when you come to take possession of Kis-Imre you will command my
services, I hope."
"I shall not fail to do so."
"I will see to it that you can do it at the earliest possible moment. By
the way," Naniescu went on with some hesitation, "the furniture--and
other contents of the château--they are not included in the sale, of
course."
"Of course not."
"You won't mind the Imreys having those? It might create an unpleasant
impression--if we were to----er----"
"It might," Peter assented.
"I was sure you would agree with me about that," Naniescu rejoined
unctuously. "Then what would you like us to do in the matter?"
"Leave everything as it is until you hear from me again. The British
Consul will look after things for me."
"Ah!" Naniescu concluded with perfect affability, "then I don't think I
need detain you any longer, my dear young friend. May I express the wish
that you will spend long and happy years in this beautiful country."
"Thank you."
Peter did not shake hands with either of the two men, but he caught
Kervoisin's glance and gave him a pleasant nod. To Naniescu he said just
before leaving:
"I suppose you have realised that Lady Tarkington will probably wish to
start for England immediately."
"Yes, my dear young friend," Naniescu replied blandly. "I have realised
that, and I have taken measures accordingly. But how kind of you to
remind me!"
And when Peter finally went out of the room the general, breathless,
perspiring, nerve-racked, threw himself into a chair and exclaimed:
"_Il n'y a pas à dire!_ They are astonishing, these English!"
He poured himself out a glass of fine and drank it down at one gulp.
"Did you ever see such an unmitigated young blackguard?" he exclaimed.
But de Kervoisin had remained thoughtful. His shrewd, pale eyes were
fixed upon the door through which Peter had just disappeared. Naniescu
had taken his handkerchief and was mopping his streaming forehead and
his neck round the edge of his collar.
"I feel quite sick," he murmured. "Ah, these English! _mon ami._ You do
not know them as I do. I firmly believe that they would sell their
fathers, their mothers, their sisters, or their wives if they saw money
in the transaction."
Kervoisin made no comment on this tirade; after a while he asked
abruptly: "What are you doing to prevent the lovely Uno from putting a
spoke in your wheel?"
Naniescu gave a complacent laugh.
"Doing?" he retorted. "Why, I've already done everything, my friend. My
courier starts to-night for London with Lady Tarkington's letter and
manuscript. He will be in London on Monday evening. On Tuesday he will
call on the editor of the _Times._ Ostensibly he is Lady Tarkington's
messenger. When he has delivered the letter he will ask for a reply.
That reply he will telegraph to me. Then we shall know where we are."
He drank another glass of _fine_, then he went on:
"I have no doubt that the fair Uno has already got her boxes packed and
is ready to start for England by the express to-night, but----"
Naniescu paused. He stretched out his legs, examined the toes of his
boots and the smoke of his cigar; his face wore an expression of fatuous
self-satisfaction. "I think," he said, "that you will be surprised at
what I have done in the time. And so will the fair Uno," he added with
an expressive twinkle in his fine, dark eyes.
"What about friend Number Ten?" Kervoisin remarked dryly.
"Well," Naniescu retorted with his affected smile, "I imagine that
friend Number Ten will be the most surprised of the lot."