The jig's up.”
Hoping that he was creating an impression of calmness, he lit a
cigarette. She raised her face to his with a softness in her eyes that
he had never noticed.
“If it is,” she pleaded, clutching at his hands, “swear you hadn't the
least idea who I really am. Disown me. Act as though my arrest had come
to you as an utter shock.”
He seated himself beside her. “But, my dear Santa, that wouldn't help
you.”
“Help me! Of course not,” she agreed with rapid vehemence. “If I'm
caught, I'm beyond helping. It's of you I'm thinking--you, with your
generosity and your splendid plans. If I dragged you down, as I dragged
down all the others, my heart would break. I never meant you any harm.
You do believe me?”
“I do now.”
“Say you know that I've loved you,” she urged. And, when he hesitated,
“Quickly. Time's running short. Let me hear you say just once, 'Santa, I
know that you've loved me.'”
“Santa, I know----”
“You wouldn't kiss me?” She asked the question scarcely above her
breath. “There've been so many who paid to kiss me. You wouldn't give me
the best, that would be the last?”
When his lips touched hers, she smiled.
“They may come now.”
Minutes dragged by like hours. Every sound was magnified into something
monstrous. A dozen times they imagined they heard police clearing the
corridor, preparatory to bursting in the door. What they heard was only
newly-arrived passengers and porters disposing of their baggage. At last
suspense became its own anesthetic.
“Did he tell you his destination?” Hindwood whispered.
Not daring to speak, she shook her head.
“Why did you get into conversation with him?” Her lips scarcely moved.
He had to listen acutely.
“I didn't. He pretended to have mistaken his compartment. I was crying.
He saw.”
“Why were you crying?”
“Because of you.”
“And you told him?”
“Not exactly.”
“What did he say? I heard you laughing when I entered. How did he
commence?”
“He said I was too beautiful to be unhappy--it's the way every man
starts. Then he said that he'd recognized me, just as though he'd been
looking for me always. And then he tortured me by wondering whether our
paths had ever crossed.”
“And you answered?”
“Never--unless he'd seen me in America.” Hindwood fell silent. Without
warning he leaped to his feet. Before he could escape, she was clinging
to him.
“Don't leave me to face them.”
“I'm not.” He freed himself from her grasp. “If I've guessed right, you
won't have to face them.” With that he was gone.
A quarter of an hour elapsed: he had not returned. Nothing that she
dreaded had happened. With a lurch the train jerked forward. Farewells
were being shouted. Station-lamps streamed past, the scarcer lights
of freight-yards, then at last the glow-worm warmth of a city under
darkness.
The door opened. She rose trembling, steadying herself against the wall.
When she saw who it was, she sank back. “Tell me.”
“We were on the wrong track.” He spoke leisurely. “Captain Lajos wasn't
lying. I followed him. He met his man with the telegram. He suspects us
so little that he showed it to me. It read, 'No further developments.'”
“Thank God.” She pressed her handkerchief to her lips. And then, “Why
should he have shown it to you? It was to put us off our guard.”
He sat down in the seat opposite. “I think not. He's changed his
tactics. He's made up his mind to be friendly. It's you he's after, but
in a different fashion. He thinks he's in love with you.”
“But he threatened----”
“No. It was our own guilty conscience. Here's how I figure it out. He
probably has seen you before. He can't remember where. It may have been
in the days when you were dancing. It was the vague recollection of you
that piqued his curiosity and got him staring. When he found you alone
and crying, he thought he'd stumbled on an adventure. My entering upset
his calculations. I became for him the cruel husband; he hated me on
the spot. My dear Santa, our meeting with him is the luckiest thing that
could have happened.”
Dabbing her eyes, she tried to laugh. “I don't see it.”
“It's as plain as a pike-staff.” He bent forward, lowering his voice.
“He was mixed up with Prince Rogovich. He's one of the people who's
hunting for you. In his company you won't be suspected. He'll get you
across all the frontiers.”
She was still reluctantly incredulous. “But the things he said at
dinner. He played with us like a cat.”
“He wasn't playing with us.” Hindwood became eager in his determination
to convince her. “He was playing into our hands. He knows all the things
that we want to know. Every move the police make is telegraphed to him.
It was the frankness with which he let us into his secrets that was so
alarming.”
“Then how must we act?”
“The way we have been acting. Until it's safe to be rid of him, we must
keep him believing that we're married, and none too happily. I'm afraid
it's up to you to keep him lulled by pretending----”
“Don't;” she closed her eyes. “It's like going back to the ugly past.”
“It's beastly, I know.” He spoke seriously. “But what else----? Any
moment he may recall where last he saw you. Sleep over it. We can decide
in the morning.”
V
All night he had been haunted by the oppressive sense that, if he did
not watch, something terrible would, happen. It was shortly after dawn
when he rose. Stepping into the corridor he found that he had the train
to himself. It seemed as depopulated as an early morning house and,
despite the clamor of its going, as silent. He placed himself near
Santa's door and stood staring out at the misty landscape streaking past
like a trail of smoke. It was here that Santa found him when she slipped
from her compartment.
He turned quickly. “He's not up yet.” Then, noticing her pallor and the
shadows under her eyes, “You haven't slept?”
“Not much.”
“Making your decision, I suppose?”
She bit her lip nervously. “I shall have to pretend---- It'll only be
pretending. You'll understand?”
“It won't last long,” he comforted her. “If we've been running on time,
we must be in Alsace-Lorraine already. Within the next few hours we'll
be out of France and into Germany. You'll feel safer there, won't you?”
What he was really asking was whether it wasn't true that during the war
she'd been a German spy.
“Shall I?” was all she answered.
They fell silent. Without mentioning it, each guessed the motive which
had occasioned the other's early rising. They dared not let the Captain
out of their sight. While they could not see him, they had no peace of
mind. Whereas yesterday his companionship had seemed to spell death,
to-day it spelt protection. Yesterday they had done everything to elude
him; to-day it would probably be he who would do the avoiding. It was
essential that they should have won his confidence before they arrived
on German soil. There was little time to lose. He had not appeared when
the first sitting for breakfast was announced.
In the restaurant car they dawdled over their meal and sat on long after
it was ended. They had even begun to discuss the possibility of his
having left the train during the night, when with an eagerness kindred
to their own he entered. Hindwood waved to him.
“I'm afraid we've finished. But won't you seat yourself at our table?
I've no doubt my wife will join you in a cup of coffee. While you
breakfast, if it's not objectionable, I'll smoke a cigarette.”
Captain Lajos beamed like a pleased boy. If one wasn't prejudiced in his
disfavor, it was possible to find him likable. “I shall be delighted,”
he said in an embarrassed tone. “Journeys are tedious nowadays. Once
every one who counted was gay and prosperous; one was never at a loss
to find a friend. To-day, in this bankrupt world, the only travelers are
money-lenders and pawn-brokers.” He laughed. “I may as well confess: I
didn't think you were up yet--that's what made me late. I was so tired
of my own society that I was waiting for you.”
As he said, “I was waiting for you,” his eyes flashed on Santa.
It was she who spoke. “I fancy we've been just as bored with ourselves
and even more eager to meet you. What you told us last night sounded so
mysterious and romantic. I could hardly sleep for thinking about it. To
have a Prince for one's friend and to travel so far to welcome him, only
to find----” She clasped her hands childishly. “Life can be so drab--how
drab, a man of your kind can never know. American husbands, no matter
what they possess, take a pride in always working.”
He disappointed her curiosity with a crooked smile. “Whether you're a
Prince or a millionaire, there's nothing romantic about being murdered.”
Then her allurement kindled the longing in his eyes. “You're wanting me
to confide the secrets that I warned you I couldn't share. Surely you
must know something of Prince Rogovich?”
“No. Truly.” She returned his searching gaze with apparent frankness.
Hindwood jogged her elbow. “My dear, I've remembered. When we sailed
there was a Prince Rogovich in the States, doing his best to raise a
loan--I think it was for Poland. It was rumored that the money was to be
squandered on military adventures. I guess he didn't find many takers.
You're in the Hungarian Hussars, Captain, but you must excuse me for
stating that on our side of the Atlantic we've seen all we want of
armies.”
Santa clicked her tongue impatiently. “That's all very well, but it
doesn't explain why the Prince----”
“It might,” Hindwood insisted mildly. “Discouraged men often commit
suicide. He was coming home. He'd failed in his object----”
“He hadn't.” The Captain glanced quickly behind him to see whether any
one could have heard him. He continued in a voice that was little above
a whisper, “Only a few of us knew. He was coming home in triumph.”
Leaning across the table with suppressed excitement, Santa made the
appeal of pretty women throughout the ages. “I wish you'd trust me.”
Hindwood pushed back his chair. “It's time for a cigar. Perhaps you'll
join me later. If you'll excuse me----”
They paid him scant attention. The last he saw of them they were gazing
enraptured into each other's eyes.