A MIDNIGHT CONFERENCE
Hunterleys remained in the hotel only long enough to change his straw
hat for a cap, put on a long, light overcoat and take an ash stick from
his wardrobe. He left the place by an unfrequented entrance and
commenced at once to climb to the back part of the town. Once or twice
he paused and looked around, to be sure that he was not followed. When
he had arrived as far as the Hotel de Prince de Galles, he crossed the
road. From here he walked very quickly and took three turns in rapid
succession. Finally he pushed open a little gate and passed up a tiled
walk which led between a little border of rose trees to a small white
villa, covered with creepers. A slim, girlish figure came suddenly out
from the porch and danced towards him with outstretched hands.
"At last!" she exclaimed. "At last! Tell me, my co-guardian, how you are
going to excuse yourself?"
He took her outstretched hands and looked down into her face. She was
very small and dark, with lustrous brown eyes and a very sensitive
mouth, which just now was quivering with excitement.
"All the excuses have gone out of my head, Felicia," he declared. "You
look such a little elf in the moonlight that I can't do more than say
that I am sorry. But I have been busy."
She was suddenly serious. She clasped his arm with both her hands and
turned towards the house.
"Of course you have," she sighed. "It seems too bad, though, in Monte
Carlo. Sidney and David are like ghouls. I don't ask what it is all
about--I know better--but I wish it were all over, whatever it is."
"Is Sidney back?" Hunterleys asked eagerly.
She nodded.
"He came in half-an-hour ago, looking like a tramp. David is writing as
though he hadn't a moment to spare in life. They are both waiting for
you, I think."
"And you?" he enquired. "How do the rehearsals go?"
"The rehearsals are all right," she admitted, looking up at him almost
pathetically. "It's the night itself that seems so awful. I know every
word, I know every note, and yet I can't feel sure. I can't sleep for
thinking about it. Only last night I had a nightmare. I saw all those
rows and rows of faces, and the lights, and my voice went, my tongue was
dry and hard, not a word would come. And you were there--and the
others!"
He laughed at her.
"Little girl," he said solemnly, "I shall have to speak to Sidney. One
of those two young men must take you out for a day in the country
to-morrow."
"They seem so busy," she complained. "They don't seem to have time to
think of me. I suppose I had better let you go in. They'd be furious if
they thought I was keeping you."
They passed into the villa, and with a farewell pat of the hand
Hunterleys left her and opened a door on the left-hand side of the hall.
The young man who had met him coming out of the Opera was standing with
his hands in his pockets, upon the hearth-rug of an exceedingly
untidy-looking apartment. There was a table covered with papers, another
piled with newspapers. There were books upon the floor, pipes and
tobacco laid about haphazard. A space had been swept clear upon the
larger table for a typewriter, a telephone instrument stood against the
wall. A man whose likeness to Felicia was at once apparent, swung round
in his chair as Hunterleys entered. He had taken off his coat and
waistcoat and his trousers seemed smothered with dust.
"Regular newspaper correspondent's den," Hunterleys remarked, as he
looked around him. "I never saw such a mess in my life. I wonder Felicia
allows it."
"We don't let her come in," her brother chuckled. "Is the door closed?"
"Fast," Hunterleys replied, moving away from it.
"Things are moving," the other went on. "I took the small car out to-day
on the road to Cannes and I expect I was the first to see Douaille."
"I saw him myself," Hunterleys announced. "I was out on that road,
walking."
"Douaille," Roche continued, "went direct to the Villa Mimosa. Grex was
there, waiting for him. Draconmeyer and Selingman both kept out of the
way."
Hunterleys nodded.
"Reasonable enough, that. Grex was the man to pave the way. Well?"
"At ten o'clock, Draconmeyer and Selingman arrived. The Villa Mimosa
gets more difficult every day. I have only one friend in the house,
although it is filled with servants. Three-quarters of them only speak
Russian. My man's reliable but he is in a terrible minority. The
conference took place in the library. It lasted about an hour and a
half. Selingman and Draconmeyer came out looking fairly well satisfied.
Half-an-hour later Douaille went on to Mentone, to the Hotel Splendide,
where his wife and daughters are staying. No writing at all was done in
the room."
"The conference has really begun, then," Hunterleys observed moodily.
"Without a doubt," Roche declared. "I imagine, though, that the meeting
this evening was devoted to preliminaries. I am hoping next time," he
went on, "to be able to pass on a little of what is said."
"If we could only get the barest idea as to the nature of the
proposals," Hunterleys said earnestly. "Of course, one can surmise. Our
people are already warned as to the long conferences which have taken
place between Grex and Selingman. They mean something--there's no doubt
about that. And then this invitation to Douaille, and his coming here so
furtively. Everything points the same way, but a few spoken words are
better than all the surmises in the world. It isn't that they are
unreasonable at home, but they must be convinced."
"It's the devil's own risk," Roche sighed, "but I am hard at it. I was
about the place yesterday as much as I dared. My plans are all ready now
but things looked pretty awkward at the villa to-night. If they are
going to have the grounds patrolled by servants every time they meet,
I'm done. I've cut a pane of glass out of the dome over the library, and
I've got a window-cleaning apparatus round at the back, and a ladder.
The passage along the roof is quite easy and there's a good deal of
cover amongst the chimneys, but if they get a hint, it will be touch and
go."
Hunterleys nodded. He was busy now, going through the long sheets of
writing which the other young man had silently passed across to him. For
half-an-hour he read, making pencil notes now and then in the margin.
When at last he had finished, he returned them and, sitting down at the
table, drew a packet of press cable sheets towards him and wrote for
some time steadily. When he had finished, he read through the result of
his labours and leaned back thoughtfully in his chair.
"You will send this off from Cannes with your own, Briston?" he asked.
The young man assented.
"The car will be here at three," he announced. "They'll be on their way
by eight."
"Press message, mind, to the _Daily Post_. If the operator wants to know
what 'Number 1' means after '_Daily Post_,' you can tell him that it
simply indicates to which editorial room the message is to be
delivered."
"That's a clever idea," Roche mused. "Code dispatches to Downing Street
might cause a little comment."
"They wouldn't do from here," Hunterleys declared. "They might be safe
enough from Cannes but it's better to run no risks. These will be passed
on to Downing Street, unopened. Be careful to-morrow, Sidney."
"I can't see that they can do anything but throw me out, Sir Henry,"
Roche remarked. "I have my _Daily Post_ authority in my pocket, and my
passport. Besides, I got the man here to announce in the _Monte Carlo
News_ that I was the accredited correspondent for the district, and that
David Briston had been appointed by a syndicate of illustrated papers to
represent them out here. That's in case we get a chance of taking
photographs. I had some idea of going out to interview Monsieur
Douaille."
Hunterleys shook his head.
"I shouldn't. The man's as nervous as he can be now, I am pretty sure of
that. Don't do anything that might put him on his guard. Mind, for all
we know he may be an honest man. To listen to what these fellows have to
say doesn't mean that he's prepared to fall in with their schemes. By
the by, you've nothing about the place, I suppose, if you should be
raided?"
"Not a thing," was the confident reply. "We are two English newspaper
correspondents, and there isn't a thing to be found anywhere that's not
in keeping, except my rather large make-up outfit and my somewhat mixed
wardrobe. I am not the only newspaper correspondent who goes in for
that, though. Then there's Felicia. They all know who she is and they
all know that she's my sister. Anyhow, even if I do get into trouble up
at the Villa Mimosa, I can't see that I shall be looked upon as anything
more than a prying newspaper correspondent. They can't hang me for
that."
Hunterleys accepted a cigarette and lit it.
"I needn't tell you fellows," he said gravely, "that this place is a
little unlike any other in Europe. You may think you're safe enough, but
all the same I wouldn't trust a living soul. By-the-by, I saw Felicia as
I came in. You don't want her to break down, do you?"
"Good heavens, no!" her brother exclaimed.
"Break down?" David repeated. "Don't suggest such a thing!"
"It struck me that she was rather nervy," Hunterleys told them. "One of
you ought to look after her for an hour or two to-morrow."
"I can't spare a moment," her brother sighed.
"I'll take her out," Briston declared eagerly. "There's nothing for me
to do to-morrow till Sidney gets back."
"Well, between you, keep an eye on her," Hunterleys advised. "And,
Sidney, I don't want to make a coward of you, and you and I both know
that if there's danger ahead it's our job to face it, but have a care up
at the Villa Mimosa. I don't fancy the law of this Principality would
see you out of any trouble if they got an idea that you were an English
Secret Service man."
Roche laughed shortly.
"Exactly my own idea," he admitted. "However, we've got to see it
through. I sha'n't consider I've done my work unless I hear something of
what Grex and the others have to say to Douaille the next time they
meet."
Hunterleys found Felicia waiting for him outside. He shook his head
reproachfully.
"A future prima donna," he said, "should go to bed at ten o'clock."
She opened the door for him and walked down the path, her hands clasped
in his arm.
"A future prima donna," she retorted, "can't do always what she likes.
If I go to bed too early I cannot sleep. To-night I am excited and
nervous. There isn't anything likely to bring trouble upon--them, is
there?"
"Certainly not," he replied promptly. "Your brother is full of
enterprise, as you know. He runs a certain amount of risk in his
eagerness to acquire news, but I never knew a man so well able to take
care of himself."
"And--and Mr. Briston?"
"Oh, he's all right, anyway," Hunterleys assured her. "His is the
smaller part."
She breathed a little sigh of relief. They had reached the gate. She
still had something to say. Below them flared the lights of Monte Carlo.
She looked down at them almost wistfully.
"Very soon," she murmured, "I shall know my fate. Sir Henry," she added
suddenly, "did I see Lady Hunterleys to-day on the Terrace?"
"Lady Hunterleys is here," he replied.
"Am I--ought I to go and see her?" she enquired. "You see, you have done
so much for me, I should like to do what you thought best."
"Just as you like, child," he replied, a little carelessly.
She clung to his arm. She seemed unwilling to let him go.
"Dear co-guardian," she murmured, "to-night I felt for a little time so
happy, as though all the good things in life were close at hand. Then I
watched you come up, and your step seemed so heavy, and you stooped as
though you had a load on your shoulders."
He patted her hand.
"Little girl," he advised, "run away in and take care of your throat.
Remember that everything depends upon the next few hours. As for me,
perhaps I am getting a little old."
"Oh, la, la!" she laughed. "That's what Sidney says when I tease him. I
know I am only the mouse, but I could gnaw through very strong cords.
Look!"
Her teeth gleamed white in the moonlight. He swung open the gate.
"Sing your way into the hearts of all these strange people," he bade
her, smiling. "Sing the envy and malice away from them. Sing so that
they believe that England, after all, is the one desirable country."
"But I am going to sing in French," she pouted.
"Your name," he reminded her, "that is English. 'The little English
prima donna,' that is what they will be calling you."
She kissed his hands suddenly as he parted from her and swung off down
the hill. Then she stood at the gate, looking down at the glittering
lights. Would they shine as brightly for her, she wondered, in
twenty-four hours' time? It was so much to strive for, so much to lose,
so wonderfully much to gain. Slowly her eyes travelled upwards. The
symbolism of those higher lights calmed her fear. She drew a great sigh
of happiness.
"Felicia!"
She turned around with a soft little laugh.
"David!"