MR. DUGE THREATENS
The morning papers were full of the news. Phineas Duge had landed in
London! The Stock Exchange was fluttered. Those whose hands were upon
the money-markets of the world paused to turn their heads towards the
hotel where he had taken a suite of rooms. Interviewers, acquaintances,
actual and imaginary, beggars for themselves and for others, left their
cards and hung around. In the hotel they spoke of him with bated breath,
as though something of divinity attached itself to the person of the man
whose power for good or for evil was so far-reaching.
Meanwhile Phineas Duge, who had had a tiresome voyage, and who was not a
little fatigued, slept during the greater part of the morning following
his arrival, with his faithful valet encamped outside the door. The
first guest to be admitted, when at last he chose to rise, was
Littleson. It was close upon luncheon time, and the two men descended
together to the grillroom of the hotel.
"A quiet luncheon and a quiet corner," Littleson suggested, "some place
where we can talk. Duge, it's good to see you in London. I feel somehow
that with you on the spot we are safe."
Phineas Duge smiled a little dubiously. They found their retired corner
and ordered luncheon. Then Littleson leaned across the table.
"Duge," he said, "I'm thankful that we've made it up. Weiss cabled me
that you had come to terms, and that you were on your way over here to
deal with the other matter. It's cost us a few millions to try and get
the blind side of you."
Phineas Duge smiled very slightly; that is to say, his lips parted, but
there was no relaxation of his features.
"Littleson," he said, "before we commence to talk, have you seen
anything of my niece over here?"
Littleson was a little surprised. He had not imagined that Phineas Duge
would ever again remember his niece's existence.
"Yes," he answered, "I crossed over with her."
"And since then?"
"I have seen her once or twice," Littleson answered a little dubiously.
"Alone?" Phineas Duge asked.
"Not always," Littleson answered. "Twice I have seen her with Norris
Vine, and twice with a young Englishman who was on the steamer."
Phineas Duge said nothing for a moment. He seemed to be studying the
menu, but he laid it down a little abruptly.
"Do you happen to know," he asked, "where she is now?"
"I haven't an idea," Littleson answered truthfully. "To be frank with
you, she was not particularly amiable when I spoke to her on the
steamer. She evidently wanted to have very little to say to me, so I
thought it best to leave her alone."
"How long is it," Phineas Duge asked, "since you saw her?"
"It is about a week ago," Littleson answered. "She was dining at Luigi's
with Norris Vine. I remember that I was rather surprised to see her with
him. He seems to possess some sort of attraction for your family."
Phineas Duge looked at the speaker coldly, and Littleson felt that
somehow, somewhere, he had blundered. He made a great show of commencing
his first course.
"Let me know exactly," Phineas Duge said, a moment or two later, "what
you have done with regard to the man Vine."
Littleson glanced cautiously around.
"I have seen him," he said. "I have argued the matter from every
possible side. I found him, I must say, absolutely impossible. He will
not deal with us upon any terms. I fear that he is only biding his time.
Every day I see by the papers that the agitation increases, and it seems
to me that if this bill passes, we shall all practically be criminals. I
think that Norris Vine is waiting for the moment when he can do so with
the greatest dramatic effect, to fill his rotten paper with a verbatim
copy of that document."
"It would be," Phineas Duge remarked, "uncommonly awkward for you and
Weiss and the others."
"We couldn't be extradited," Littleson answered, "and I shall take
remarkably good care not to cross the ocean again until this thing has
blown over."
"If it ever does," Phineas Duge remarked quietly. "Well, go on about
Norris Vine."
Once more Littleson looked around the room.
"You know Dan Prince is over here?" he said softly.
Duge nodded.
"So far," he remarked, "his being over here does not seem to have
affected the situation."
"He has made one attempt," Littleson whispered. "He got inside, and he
had certain information that Vine was going to return that night.
Whether he had warning or not no one can tell, but he never came back.
They followed him a few nights ago across Trafalgar Square, hoping that
he was going down toward the Embankment, but he took a hansom and drove
to his club. They followed, and waited for him to come out, but there
was a policeman standing at the very entrance, within a foot of them.
This isn't New York, Duge. You can't depend upon getting the coast clear
for this sort of thing over here, and Prince will take no risks. He is a
rich man in his way, and he wants to live to enjoy his money. He's as
clever as they make them, although he's failed twice here. I fancy he
has something else pending."
"And meanwhile," Duge said quietly, "to-morrow morning's paper may
contain our damnation."
"It may, of course," Littleson answered. "I don't think so, though. He
doesn't move a yard without being shadowed, and he hasn't written out a
cable when some one hasn't been near his shoulder."
"That is the position, then, so far as you know it?" Duge asked.
"Absolutely!" Littleson answered. "I can tell you nothing more."
Duge finished his luncheon and signed the bill. Then he made an
appointment to dine with Littleson, and sent out for an automobile. When
it arrived he was driven to the American Embassy. At the mention of his
name everything was made easy, and he found himself in a few minutes in
the presence of the ambassador.
"Glad to meet you once more, Mr. Duge," he said. "You have forgotten me,
I dare say, but I think we came across one another at a banquet in New
York about four years ago."
"I remember it perfectly," Phineas Duge answered. "A dull affair it was,
but we talked of the Asiatic Powers and kept ourselves amused. Since
then, you see, all that I said has become justified."
Deane smiled.
"They say that with you that is always the case," he answered. "'Duge
the Infallible' I heard a stockbroker once call you."
Duge smiled.
"Well," he said, "if I remember your politics, and I think I do, you are
going to try and take away that title from me. You are amongst those,
are you not, who have set themselves to dam the torrents?"
Deane shook his head a little stiffly.
"In the diplomatic service," he said, "we have no politics."
"Sometimes," Duge murmured, "you come in touch with them. For instance,
I should like to know what advice you are going to give Norris Vine
about the publication of that little document in his paper."
Deane looked for a moment annoyed.
"I am afraid," he said, "that I cannot answer you that question."
"If you advise him one way or the other," Phineas Duge said, "you give
the lie to your own statement, that in diplomacy there are no politics.
Your advice will show on which side you intend to stand."
"I have not given any advice," Deane replied.
"Nor must you," Phineas Duge said pleasantly enough. "It is not your
affair at all, Mr. Deane. I grant your cleverness, your shrewdness, even
your common sense, but all three are academic. They have no direct
relation to the actual things of the world. Wealth is one of those
forces which only strong fingers can gather, a stream which if you like
you can divert, but you cannot dam. I want to tell you, Mr. Deane, that
if you advise Norris Vine at all, you must see to it that you advise him
to place that paper upon the fire, or to restore it from whence it
was stolen."
"I am afraid, Mr. Duge," the ambassador said, "that I cannot recognize
you as possessed of such authority as to justify the use of the word
'must.' I am in the habit of doing what I think right and well."
Phineas Duge bowed his head.
"I will only remind you, Mr. Deane," he said, "of the facts which led to
the withdrawal of our ministers from Lisbon and Paris and Vienna. I am
not proud of the power which undoubtedly lies in the palm of my right
hand. On the other hand, I should be foolish if I did not remind you of
these things at a time like this. I only ask you to take up a passive
attitude. You escape in that way all trouble, and if you fancy that the
climate of Paris would suit you or Mrs. Deane better than London, it
would be a matter of a few months only; but--you must not advise the
other way!"
The ambassador was distinctly uneasy. Duge saw his embarrassment and
hastened on.
"I ask you for no reply, Mr. Deane," he said; "not even for an
expression of opinion. I have said all that I came to say. Apart from
any question of self-interest, I can assure you, as a man who sees as
clearly as his neighbours, that you could do no good, but much evil, by
advising Norris Vine to hold up these men to the ridicule and contempt
of the world. He might sell a million copies of his paper, but he would
create an enmity which in the end, I think, would swamp him. Mrs. Deane,
I trust, is well?"
"She is in excellent health," the ambassador answered. "What can I do
for you during your stay? I presume you know that anything you desire is
open to you? You represent, you see, a great uncrowned royalty, to whom
all the world bows. Will you come to Court?"
"Not I," Duge answered. "Those things are for another type of man. There
was a further question which I wished to ask you. I have a niece who
came over here on a foolish errand, a Miss Virginia Longworth. Do you
happen to have seen or heard anything of her?"
"Nothing," the ambassador replied; "nothing personally, at any rate. I
will inquire of my secretaries."
He left the room for a few minutes, and returned shaking his head.
"Nothing is known about her at all," he declared.
"If she should apply here," Duge said, rising and drawing on his gloves,
"assist her in any way and let me know at once. She must be getting," he
continued, "rather short of money. You can advance her whatever sum she
asks for, and I will make it good."
Phineas Duge walked out into the sunlight and drove away in his
automobile. Was it the glaring light, he wondered, the perfume of the
flowers, the evidences on every side of an easier and less strenuous
life, which were accountable for a certain depression, a slackening of
interests which certainly seemed to come over him that afternoon as he
drove back to the hotel. If he could have summarized his thoughts
afterwards, he would have scoffed at them, as a grown man might laugh at
a toy which a lunatic had offered him. Yet it is certain that the empty
place by his side was filled more than once during that brief ride. He
looked into the faces of the women and girls who streamed along the
pavements with a certain half-eager curiosity, as though he expected to
find a familiar face amongst them, a pale oval face, with quivering lips
and lustrous appealing eyes--eyes which had come into his thoughts more
often lately than he would have cared to admit.
"It is that infernal voyage!" he said to himself, as he got out of the
car and entered the hotel. "One cannot think about reasonable things on
days when the marconigram fails."
He bought a cigar at the stall and strolled over to the tape. It was a
busy afternoon, and reports from America were coming in fast. He nodded
as he turned away. Weiss and the rest had had their lesson. They were
keeping, at any rate, to their part of the bargain.