THE MICE IN A TRAP
They had a table in a cool, shady corner of the broad porch overlooking
the Place d'Armes and the Seine and its vociferous ferries. To the
right runs the gleaming roadway that leads to the hills and glades
through which pomp and pride once strode with such fatal arrogance.
Blue coated servitors attended them on their arrival, and watched over
them during their stay. It was as if Miss Guile were the fairy princess
who had but to wish and her slightest desire was gratified. Her guest,
a real prince, marvelled not a little at the complete sway she
exercised over this somewhat autocratic army of menials. They bowed and
scraped, and fetched, and carried, and were not Swiss but slaves in
Bagdad during the reign of its most illustrious Caliph, Al-haroun
Raschid the great. The magic of Araby could have been no more potent
than the spell this beautiful girl cast over the house of Mammon. She
laid her finger upon a purse of gold and wished, and lo! the wonders of
the magic carpet were repeated.
Robin remembered that Maud Applegate Blithers had spent the greater
part of her life in Paris, and it was therefore not unreasonable to
suppose that she had spent something else as well. At any rate, the
Pavilion Bleu was a place where it _had_ to be spent if one wanted the
attention accorded the few.
She had removed her veil, but he was not slow to perceive that she sat
with her back to the long stretch of porch.
"Do you prefer this place to Armenonville or the Paillard at Pre
Catelan, Miss Guile?" he inquired, quite casually, but with a secret
purpose.
"No, it is stupid here, as a rule, and common. Still every one goes to
the other places in the afternoon and I particularly wanted to be as
naughty as possible, so I came here to-day."
"It doesn't strike me as especially naughty," he remarked.
"But it was very, very naughty before you and I were born, Mr. Schmidt.
The atmosphere still remains, if one possesses a comprehensive
imagination."
"I daresay," said he, "but the imagination doesn't thrive on tea. Those
were the days of burgundy and a lot of other red things."
"One doesn't need to be in shackles, to expatiate on the terrors of the
Bridge of Sighs," she said.
"Are you going to take me up to the park?"
"Yes. Into the Shadows."
"Oh, that's good! I'm sure my imagination will work beautifully when it
isn't subdued by all these blue devils. I--_Que voulez vous?_" The
question was directed rather sharply to a particularly deferential
"blue devil" who stood at his elbow.
"Monsieur Schmidt?"
"Yes. What's this? A letter! 'Pon my soul, how the deuce could any
one--" He got no farther, for Miss Guile's action in pulling down her
veil and the subsequent spasmodic glance over her shoulder betrayed
such an agitated state of mind on her part that his own sensations were
checked at the outset.
"There must be some one here who knows you, Mr. Schmidt," she said
nervously. "See what it says, please,--at once. I--perhaps we should be
starting home immediately."
Robin tore open the envelope. A glance showed him that the brief note
was from Gourou. A characteristic G served as a signature. As he read,
a hard line appeared between his eyes and his expression grew serious.
"It is really nothing, Miss Guile," he said and prepared to tear the
sheet into many pieces. "A stupid, alleged joke of a fellow who happens
to know me, that's all."
"Don't tear it up!" she cried sharply. "What does it say? I have a
right to know, Mr. Schmidt, even though it is only a joke. What has
this friend of yours to say about me? What coarse, uncalled-for comment
has he to make about--"
"Let me think for a moment, Miss Guile," he interrupted, suddenly
realising that it was time for reflection. After a moment he said
soberly: "I think it would be wise if we were to leave instantly. There
is nothing to be alarmed about, I assure you, but--well, we'd better
go."
"Will you allow me to see that letter?" she asked, extending her hand.
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind."
"But I insist, sir! I'll not go a step from this place until I know
what all this is about."
"As it happens to concern you even more than it does me, I suppose
you'd better see what it says." He passed the letter over to her and
watched her narrowly as she read. Again the veil served as a competent
mask.
"Who wrote this letter, Mr. Schmidt?" she demanded. Even through the
veil he could see that her eyes were wide with--was it alarm or anger?
"A man named Gourou. He is a detective engaged on a piece of work for
Mr. Totten."
"Is it a part of his duty to watch your movements?" she asked, leaning
forward.
"No. He is my friend, however," said Robin steadily. "According to this
epistle, it would appear that it is a part of his duty to keep track of
you, not me. May I ask why you should be shadowed by two of his kind?"
She did not answer at once. When she spoke, it was with a determined
effort to maintain her composure.
"I am sorry to have subjected you to all this, Mr. Schmidt. We will
depart at once. I find that the cat is never away, so we can't be mice.
What a fool I've been." There was something suspiciously suggestive of
tears in her soft voice.
He laid a hand upon the small fingers that clutched the crumpled sheet
of paper. To have saved his life, he could not keep the choked, husky
tremor out of his voice.
"The day is spoiled for you. That is my only regret. As for me, Miss
Guile, I am not without sin, so I may cast no stones. Pray regard me as
a fellow culprit, and rest assured that I have no bone to pick with
you. I too am watched and yet I am no more of a criminal than you. Will
you allow me to say that I am a friend whose devotion cannot be shaken
by all the tempests in the world?"
"Thank you," she said, and turned her hand under his to give it a
quick, convulsive clasp. Her spirits seemed to revive under the
responsive grip. "You might have said all the tempests in a tea pot,
for that is really what it amounts to. My father is a very foolish man.
Will you send for the car?"
He called an attendant and ordered him to find Miss Guile's footman at
once. When he returned to the table, she was reading the note once more.
"It is really quite thrilling, isn't it?" she said, and there was still
a quaver of indignation in her voice. "Are you not mystified?"
"Not in the least," said he promptly, and drew a chair up close beside
hers. "It's as plain as day. Your father has found you out, that's all.
Let's read it again," and they read it together.
"A word to the wise," it began. "Two men from a private detective
concern have been employed since yesterday in watching the movements of
your companion, for the purpose of safe-guarding her against
good-looking young men, I suspect. I have it from the most reliable of
sources that her father engaged the services of these men almost
simultaneously with the date of our sailing from New York. It may
interest you to know that they followed you to St. Cloud in a
high-power car and no doubt are watching you as you read this message
from your faithful friend, who likewise is not far away."
"I should have anticipated this, Mr. Schmidt," she said ruefully. "It
is just the sort of thing my father would do."
"You seem to take it calmly enough."
"I am quite used to it. I would be worth a great deal to any
enterprising person who made it his business to steal me. There is no
limit to the ransom he could demand."
"You alarm me," he declared. "No doubt these worthy guardians look upon
me as a kidnapper. I am inclined to shiver."
"'All's well that ends well,'" quoth she, pulling on her gloves, "I
shall restore you safely to the bosom of the Ritz and that will be the
end of it."
"I almost wish that some one would kidnap you, Miss Guile. It would
afford me the greatest pleasure in the world to snatch you from their
clutches. Your father would be saved paying the ransom but I should
have to be adequately rewarded. I fancy, however, that he wouldn't mind
paying the reward I should hold out for."
"I am quite sure he would give you anything you were to ask for, Mr.
Schmidt," said she gaily. "You would be reasonable, of course."
"I might ask for the most precious of his possessions," said he,
leaning forward to look directly into eyes that wavered and refused to
meet his.
"Curiosity almost makes me wish that I might be kidnapped. I should
then find out what you consider to be his most precious possession,"
she said, and her voice was perilously low.
"I think I could tell you in advance," said he, his eyes shining.
"I--I prefer to find out in my own way, Mr. Schmidt," she stammered
hurriedly. Her confusion was immensely gratifying to him. There is no
telling what might have happened to the Prince of Graustark at that
moment if an obsequious attendant had not intervened with the earthly
information that the car was waiting.
"Good Lord," Robin was saying to himself as he followed her to the
steps, "was I about to go directly against the sage advice of old
Gourou? Was I so near to it as that? In another minute--Gee, but it was
a close shave. She is adorable, she is the most adorable creature in
the world, even though she is the daughter of old man Blithers, and
I--'gad I wonder what will come of it in the end? Keep a tight grip on
yourself, Bobby, or you're a goner, sure as fate."
They were painfully aware of the fact that their progress down the long
verandah was made under the surveillance of two, perhaps three pairs of
unwavering eyes, and because of it they looked neither to right nor
left but as those who walk tight-ropes over dangerous places. There was
something positively uncanny in the feeling that their every movement
was being watched by secret observers. Once inside the car, Miss Guile
sank back with a long sigh of relief.
"Did you feel it, too?" she asked, with a nervous little catch in her
voice.
"I did," said he, passing his hand over his brow. "It was like being
alone in the dark with eyes staring at one from all sides of the room."
The car shot across the bridge and was speeding on its way toward the
Bois when Robin ventured a glance behind. Through the little window in
the back of the car he saw a big, swift-moving automobile not more than
a quarter of a mile in their rear.
"Would you like to verify the report of my friend Gourou?" he asked,
his voice quick with exhilaration. She knelt with one knee upon the
seat and peered back along the road.
"There they are!" she cried. She threw the veil back over her hat as
she resumed her seat in the corner. Her eyes were fairly dancing with
excitement. The warm red lips were parted and she was breathing
quickly. Suddenly she laid her hand over her heart as if to check its
lively thumping. "Isn't it splendid? We are being pursued--actually
chased by the man-hunters of Paris! Oh, I was never so happy in my
life. Isn't it great?"
"It is glorious!" he cried exultantly. "Shall I tell the chauffeur to
hit it up a bit? Let's make it a real chase."
"Yes, do! We'll see if we can foil them, as they say in the books. Oh,
wouldn't it be wonderful if we were to--to--what do you call it? Give
them the slip, isn't that it?"
"I'm game," said he, with enthusiasm. For a second or two they looked
straight into each other's eyes and a message was exchanged that never
could have been put into words. No doubt it was the flush of eager
excitement that darkened their cheeks. In any case, it came swiftly and
went as quickly, leaving them paler than before and vastly
self-conscious. And after that brief, searching look they knew that
they could never be as they were before the exchange. They were no
longer strangers to each other, but shy comrades and filled with a
delicious sense of wonder.
Robin gave hurried directions through the speaking tube to the
attentive footman, and so explicit were these directions that the
greatest excitement prevailed upon the decorous front seat of the
car--first the footman looked back along the road, then the chauffeur,
after which a thrill of excitement seemed to fairly race up and down
their liveried backs. The car itself took a notion to quiver with the
promise of joy unrestrained. In less than a minute they were going more
than a mile a minute over a short stretch of the Avenue de Longchamp.
At the Porte de Hippodrome they slowed down and ran into the Bois,
taking the first road to the left. In a few minutes they were scudding
past Longchamp at a "fair clip" to quote R. Schmidt. Instead of
diverging into the Allee de Longchamp, the car took a sharp turn into
the Avenue de l'Hippodrome and, at the intersection, doubled back over
the Allee de la Heine Marguerite, going almost to the Boulogne gate,
where again it was sent Parisward over the Avenue de St. Cloud.
Miss Guile was in command of the flight. She called out the
instructions to the driver and her knowledge of the intricate routes
through the park stood them well in hand. Purposely she evaded the
Cascades, circling the little pools by narrow, unfrequented roads,
coming out at last to the Porte de la Muette, where they left the park
and took to the Avenue Henri Martin. It was her design to avoid the
customary routes to the heart of the city, and all would have gone well
with them had not fate in the shape of two burly _sergents de ville_
intervened at a time when success seemed most certain. It was quite
clear to the pursued that the car containing their followers had been
successfully eluded and was no doubt in the Champs Elysees by this
time. For some time there had been a worried look in the Prince's eyes.
Once he undertook to remonstrate with his fair companion.
"My dear Miss Guile, we'll land in jail if we keep up this hair-raising
speed. There wouldn't be any fun in that, you know."
She gave him a scornful look. "Are you afraid, Mr. Schmidt?"
"Not on my own account," said he, "but yours. I've heard that the new
regulations are extremely rigid."
"Pooh! I'm not afraid of the police. They--why, what's the matter? Oh,
goodness!"
The car had come to a somewhat abrupt stop. Two policemen, dismounted
from their bicycles, formed an insurmountable obstruction. They were
almost in the shade of the Trocadero.
"Do not be alarmed," whispered Robin to the fast paling girl, into
whose eyes the most abject misery had leaped at the sight of the two
officers. "Leave it to me. I can fix them all right. There's nothing to
be worried about--well, _sergent_, what is it?"
The polite officers came up to the window with their little note-books.
"I regret, m'sieur, that we shall be obliged to conduct yourself and
mademoiselle to the office of a magistrate. Under the new regulations
set forth in the order of last May, motorists may be given a hearing at
once. I regret to add that m'sieur has been exceeding the speed limit.
A complaint came in but a few minutes ago from the Porte de la Muette
and we have been ordered to intercept the car. You may follow us to the
office of the magistrate, m'sieur. It will soon be over, mademoiselle."
"But we can explain--" she began nervously.
The _sergent_ held up his hand. "It is not necessary to explain,
mademoiselle. Too many motorists have explained in the past but that
does not restore to life the people they have killed in the pursuit of
pleasure. Paris is enforcing her laws."
"But, _sergent_, I alone am to blame for any violation of the law,"
said Robin suavely. "Surely it is only necessary that I should
accompany you to the magistrate. The young lady is in no way
responsible--"
"Alas, m'sieur," said the man firmly but as if he were quite
broken-hearted, "it is not for me to disobey the law, even though you
may do so. It is necessary for the lady to appear before the Judge, and
it is our duty to convey her there. The new law explicitly says that
all occupants of said car shall be subject to penalty under the law
without reprieve or pardon!"
"Where are your witnesses?" demanded Robin.
The two men produced their watches and their notebooks, tapping them
significantly.
"M'sieur will not think of denying that he has been running more
rapidly than the law allows," said the second officer. "It will go
harder with him if he should do so."
"I shall insist upon having an advocate to represent me before--"
"As you like, m'sieur," said the first officer curtly. "Proceed!" he
uttered as a command to the chauffeur, and forthwith mounted his wheel.
A score of people had gathered round them by this time, and Miss Guile
was crouching back in her corner. Her veil was down. In single file, so
to speak, they started off for the office of the nearest magistrate
appointed under the new law governing automobiles. A policeman pedaled
ahead of the car and another followed.
"Isn't it dreadful?" whispered Miss Guile. "What do you think they will
do to us? Oh, I am so sorry, Mr. Schmidt, to have dragged you into this
horrid--"
"I wouldn't have missed it for anything in the world," said he so
earnestly that she sat up a little straighter and caught her breath.
"After all, they will do no more than assess a fine against us. A
hundred francs, perhaps. That is nothing."
"I am not so sure of that," said she gloomily. "My friends were saying
only yesterday that the new law provides for imprisonment as well.
Paris has constructed special prisons for motorists, and people are
compelled to remain in them for days and weeks at a time. Oh, I hope--"
"I'll inquire of the footman," said Robin. "He will know." The footman,
whose face was very long and serious, replied through the tube that
very few violators escaped confinement in the "little prisons." He also
said "Mon dieu" a half dozen times, and there was a movement of the
driver's pallid lips that seemed to indicate a fervent echo.
"I shall telephone at once--to my friends," said Miss Guile, a note of
anger in her voice. "They are very powerful in Paris. We shall put
those miserable wretches in their proper places. They--"
"We must not forget. Miss Guile, that we _were_ breaking the law," said
Robin, who was beginning to enjoy the discomfiture of this spoiled
beauty, this girl whose word was a sort of law unto itself.
"It is perfect nonsense," she declared. "We did no harm. Goodness! What
is this?"
Four or five policemen on wheels passed by the car, each with a
forbidding glance through the windows.
"They are the boys we left behind us," paraphrased Robin soberly. "The
park policemen. They've just caught us up, and, believe me, they look
serious, too. I dare say we are in for it."
In a very few minutes the procession arrived at a low, formidable
looking building on a narrow side street. The cavalcade of policemen
dismounted and stood at attention while Mademoiselle and Monsieur got
down from the car and followed a polite person in uniform through the
doors. Whereupon the group of _sergents de ville_ trooped in behind,
bringing with them the neatly liveried servants with the golden letter
L on their cuffs.
"I believe there is a jail back there," whispered the slim culprit, a
quaver in her voice. She pointed down the long, narrow corridor at the
end of which loomed a rather sinister looking door with thick
bolt-heads studding its surface.
An instant later they were ushered into a fair-sized room on the left
of the hall, where they were commanded to sit down. A lot of chairs
stood about the room, filling it to the farthest corners, while at the
extreme end was the Judge's bench.
"I insist on being permitted to telephone to friends--to my legal
advisors,--" began Miss Guile, with praiseworthy firmness, only to be
silenced by the attendant, who whispered shrilly that a trial was in
progress, couldn't she see?
Two dejected young men were standing before the Judge, flanked by three
_sergents de ville_. Robin and Miss Guile stared wide-eyed at their
fellow criminals and tried to catch the low words spoken by the fat
Magistrate. Once more they were ordered to sit down, this time not
quite so politely, and they took seats in the darkest corner of the
room, as far removed from justice as possible under the circumstances.
Presently a young man approached them. He was very nice looking and
astonishingly cheerful. The hopes of the twain went up with a bound.
His expression was so benign, so bland that they at once jumped to the
conclusion that he was coming to tell them that they were free to go,
that it had all been a stupid mistake. But they were wrong. He
smilingly introduced himself as an advocate connected with the court by
appointment and that he would be eternally grateful to them if they
would tell him what he could do for them.
"I'd like to have a word in private with the Magistrate," said the
Prince of Graustark eagerly.
"Impossible!" said the advocate, lifting his eyebrows and his smart
little mustachios in an expression of extreme amazement. "It is
imposs--" A sharp rapping on the Judge's desk reduced the remainder of
the sentence to a delicate whisper--"ible. M'sieur."
"Will you conduct me to a telephone booth?" whispered Miss Guile,
tearfully.
"Pray do not weep, Mademoiselle," implored the advocate, profoundly
moved, but at the same time casting a calculating eye over the luckless
pair.
"Well, what's to be done?" demanded Robin. "We insist on having our own
legal advisors here."
"The court will not delay the hearing, M'sieur," explained the young
man. "Besides, the best legal advisor in Paris could do no more than to
advise you to plead guilty. I at least can do that quite as ably as the
best of them. No one ever pretends to defend a case in the automobile
courts, M'sieur. It is a waste of time, and the court does not approve
of wasting time. Perhaps you will feel more content if I introduce the
assistant public prosecutor, who will explain the law. That is his only
duty. He does not prosecute. There is no need. The _sergents_ testify
and that is all there is to the case."
"May I inquire what service you can be to us if the whole business is
cut and dried like that?" asked Robin.
"Not so loud, M'sieur. As I said before, I can advise you in respect to
your plea, and I can tell you how to present your statement to the
court. I can caution you in many ways. Sometimes a prisoner, who is
well-rehearsed, succeeds in affecting the honourable Magistrate nicely,
and the punishment is not so severe."
"So you advise us to plead guilty as delicately as possible?"
"I shall not advise you, M'sieur, unless it pleases you to retain me as
your counsellor. The fee is small. Ten francs. Inasmuch as the amount
is charged against you in the supplemental costs, it seems foolish not
to take advantage of what you are obliged to pay for in any event. You
will have to pay my fee, so you may as well permit me to be of service
to you."
"My only concern is over Mademoiselle," said the Prince. "You may send
me to jail if you like, if you'll only--"
"Mon dieu! I am not the one who enjoys the distinguished honour of
being permitted to send people to jail, but the Judge, M'sieur."
"It is ridiculous to submit this innocent young lady to the humiliation
of--"
"It is not only ridiculous but criminal," said the advocate, with a
magnificent bow. "But what is one to do when it is the law? Of late,
the law is peculiarly sexless. And now here is where I come in. It is I
who shall instruct you--both of you, Mademoiselle--how to conduct
yourselves before the Magistrate. Above all things, do not attempt to
contradict a single statement of the police. Admit that all they say is
true, even though they say that you have run over a child or an old
woman with mortal results. It will go much easier with you. Exercise
the gravest politeness and deference toward the honourable Magistrate
and to every officer of the court. You are Americans, no doubt. The
courts are prone to be severe with the Americans because they sometimes
undertake to tell them how easy it is to get the right kind of justice
in your wonderfully progressive United States. Be humble, contrite,
submissive, for that is only justice to the court. If you have killed
some one in your diversions, pray do not try to tell the magistrate
that the idiot ought to have kept his eyes open. Another thing: do not
inform the court that you require a lawyer. That is evidence of extreme
culpability and he will consider you to be inexcusably guilty. Are you
attending? Pray do not feel sorry for the two young men who are now
being led away. See! They are weeping. It is as I thought. They are
going to prison for--But that is their affair, not ours. I advised them
as I am advising you, but they insisted on making a statement of their
case. That was fatal, for it failed in many respects to corroborate the
information supplied by the police. It-"
"What was the charge against them?" whispered Miss Guile, quaking. She
had watched the exit of the tearful young men, one of whom was sobbing
bitterly, and a great fear possessed her.
"Of that, Mademoiselle, I am entirely ignorant, but they were
unmistakably guilty of denying it, whatever it was."
"Are they going to prison?" she gasped.
"It is not that which causes them to weep so bitterly, but the
knowledge that their names are to be posted on the bulletin boards in
the Place de l'Opera, the Place de l'Concorde, the--"
"Good Lord!" gasped Robin. "Is _that_ being done?"
"It is M'sieur, and the effect is marvellous. Three months ago the
boards were filled with illustrious names; to-day there are but few to
be found upon them. The people have discovered that the courts are in
earnest. The law is obeyed as it never was before. The prisons were
crowded to suffocation at one time; now they are almost empty. It is a
good law. To-day a mother can wheel her baby carriage in the thickest
of the traffic and run no risk of--Ah, but here is the assistant
prosecutor coming. Permit me to further warn you that you will be
placed under oath to tell the absolute truth. The prosecutor will ask
but three questions of you: your age, your name and your place of
residence. All of them you must answer truthfully, especially as to
your names. If it is discovered that you have falsely given a name not
your own, the lowest penalty is sixty days in prison, imposed
afterwards in addition to the sentence you will receive for violating
the traffic laws. I have performed my duty as required by the
commissioner. My fee is a fixed one, so you need not put your hand into
your pocket, M'sieur. Good day. Mademoiselle--good day, M'sieur." He
bowed profoundly and gave way to the impatient prosecutor, who had
considerately held himself aloof while the final words were being
uttered, albeit he glanced at his watch a couple of times.
"Come," he said, and he did not whisper; "let us be as expeditious as
possible. Approach the court. It is--"
"See here," said Robin savagely, "this is too damned high-handed. Are
we to have no chance to defend ourselves? We--"
"Just as you please, M'sieur," interrupted the prosecutor patiently.
"It is nothing to me. I receive my fee in any event. If you care to
defy the law in addition to what you have already done, it is not for
me to object."
"Well, I insist on having--"
A thunderous pounding on the bench interrupted his hot-headed speech.
"Attend!" came in a sharp, uncompromising voice from the bench. "What
is the delay? This is no time to think. All that should have been done
before. Step forward! _Sergent_, see that the prisoners step forward."
Robin slipped his arm through Miss Guile's, expecting her to droop
heavily upon it for support. To his surprise she drew herself up,
dis-engaged herself, and walked straight up to the bench, without fear
or hesitation. It was Robin who needed an example of courage and
fortitude, not she. The chauffeur and footman, shivering in their
elegance, already stood before the bench.
"Will you be so kind as to raise your veil, Madam?" spake the court.
She promptly obeyed. He leaned forward with sudden interest. The
prosecutor blinked and abruptly overcame the habitual inclination to
appear bored. Such ravishing beauty had never before found its way into
that little court-room. Adjacent moustaches were fingered somewhat
convulsively by several _sergents de ville._
"Ahem!" said the court, managing with some difficulty to regain his
judicial form. "I am compelled by law, Mademoiselle, to warn you before
you are placed under oath that the lowest penalty for giving a false
name in answer to the charge to be brought against you is imprisonment
for not less than sixty days. I repeat this warning to you, young man.
Be sworn, if you please."
Robin experienced a queer sense of exultation, not at all lessened by
the knowledge that he would be forced to reveal his own identity. "Would
she call herself Bedelia Guile or would she--"
"State your name, Mademoiselle," said the prosecutor.