The first few seconds after the entrance of the two men were
monopolised by the greetings of Pamela with her brother. Fischer stood
a little in the background, his eyes fixed upon Lutchester. His brain
was used to emergencies, but he found himself here confronted by an
unanswerable problem.
"Say, this is Mr. Lutchester, isn't it?" he inquired, holding out his
hand.
"The same," Lutchester assented politely. "We met at Henry's some ten
days ago, didn't we?"
"Mr. Lutchester has brought us a letter from Dicky Green, Jimmy,"
Pamela explained, as she withdrew from her brother's arms. "Quite
unnecessary, as it happens, because I met him in London just before we
sailed."
"Very glad to meet you, Mr. Lutchester," Jimmy declared, wringing his
hand with American cordiality. "Dicky's an old pal of mine--one of the
best. We graduated in the same year from Harvard."
Conversation for a few minutes was platitudinous. Van Teyl, although he
showed few signs of his recent excesses, was noisy and boisterous,
clutching at this brief escape from a situation which he dreaded.
Fischer on the other hand, remained in the back-ground, ominously
silent, thinking rapidly, speculating and theorising as to the
coincidence, if it were coincidence, of finding Lutchester and Pamela
together. He listened to the former's polite conversation, never once
letting his eyes wander from his face. All his thoughts were
concentrated upon one problem. The mysterious escape of Sandy Graham,
which had sent him flying from the country, remained unsolved. Of
Pamela's share in it he had already his suspicions. Was it possible
that Lutchester was the other and the central figure in that remarkable
rescue? He waited his opportunity, and, during a momentary lull in the
cheerful conversation, broke in with his first question.
"Say, Mr. Lutchester, you haven't any twin brother, have you?"
"No brother at all," Lutchester admitted.
"Then, how did you get over here? You were at Henry's weren't you, on
the night the _Lapland_ sailed? You didn't cross with us, and there's
no other steamer due for two days."
"Then I can't be here," Lutchester declared. "The thing's impossible."
"Guess you'll have to explain, if you want to save me from a sleepless
night," Fischer persisted.
Lutchester smiled. He had the air of one enjoying the situation
immensely.
"Well," he said, "I have had to confess to Miss Van Teyl here, so I
may as well make a clean breast of it to you. To every one else I meet
in New York, I shall say that I came over on the _Lapland_. I really
came over on a destroyer."
Fischer's face seemed to become more set and grim than ever.
"A British destroyer," he muttered to himself.
"It was kind of a joy ride," Lutchester explained confidentially, "a
cousin of mine who was in command came in to see me and say good-by,
just after I'd received my orders from the head of my department to
come out here on the next steamer, and he smuggled me on board that
night. Mum's the word, though, if you please. We asked nobody's leave.
It would have taken about a month to have heard anything definite from
the Admiralty."
"A British destroyer come across the Atlantic, eh?" Mr. Fischer
muttered. "She must have come out on a special mission, then, I
imagine."
"That is not for me to say," Lutchester observed, with stiff reticence.
Pamela suddenly and purposely intervened. She turned towards Fischer.
"Mr. Lutchester brought some rather curious news," she observed. "He
got it by wireless. Do you remember all the fuss there was about the
disappearance of Captain Holderness' friend at Henry's?"
"I heard something about it," he admitted grimly.
"Well, Captain Graham was in my party, so naturally I was more
interested than any one else. To all appearance he entered Henry's
Restaurant, walked up the stairs, and disappeared into the skies. The
place was ransacked everywhere for him, but he never turned up. Well,
the very next day he was murdered in a motor-car on his way to
Northumberland."
"Incredible!" Fischer murmured.
"Seems a queer set out," Lutchester remarked, "but it's quite true. He
was supposed to have discovered a marvellous new explosive, the formula
for which had been stolen. He was on his way up to Northumberland to
make fresh experiments."
"For myself I have little faith," Fischer observed, "in any new
explosives. In Germany they believe, I understand, that the limit of
destructiveness has been attained."
"The Germans should know," Lutchester admitted carelessly. "I'm afraid
they are still a good deal ahead of us in most scientific matters. I
will take the liberty, of calling some time to-morrow, Miss Van Teyl,
and hope I shall have the pleasure of improving my acquaintance with
your brother. Good night, Mr. Fischer."
"Are you staying in the hotel?" the latter inquired.
"On the fifteenth floor," was the somewhat gloomy reply. "I shan't be
able to shave in front of the window without feeling giddy. However, I
suppose that's America. Good-by, everybody."
With a little inclusive and farewell bow he disappeared. They heard him
make his way down the corridor and ring for the lift. Rather a curious
silence ensued, which was broken at last by Pamela.
"Is that," she asked, throwing herself into an easy-chair and selecting
a cigarette, "just an ordinary type of a nice, well-bred,
unintelligent, self-sufficient Englishman, or--"
"Or what?" Fischer asked, with interest.
Pamela watched the smoke curl from the end of her cigarette.
"Well, I scarcely know how to finish," she confessed, "only sometimes
when I am talking to him I feel that he can scarcely be as big a fool
as he seems, and then I wonder. Jimmy," she went on, shaking her head
at him, "you're not looking well. You've been sitting up too late and
getting into bad habits during my absence. Open confession, now, if you
please. If it's a girl, I shall give you my blessing."
Van Teyl groaned and said nothing. A foreboding of impending trouble
depressed Pamela. She turned towards Fischer and found in his grim face
confirmation of her fears.
"What does this mean?" she demanded.
"Your brother will explain," Fischer replied. "It is better that he
should tell you everything."
"Everything?" she repeated. "What is there to tell. What have you to do
with my brother, anyway?" she added fiercely.
"You must not look at me as though I were in any way to blame for what
has happened," was the insistent reply. "On the contrary, I have been
very lenient with your brother. I am still prepared to be lenient--upon
certain conditions."
The light of battle was in Pamela's eyes. She fought against the
significance of the man's ominous words. This was his first blow, then,
and directed against her.
"I begin to understand," she said. "Please go on. Let me hear
everything."
Van Teyl had turned to the sideboard. He mixed and drank off a whisky
and soda. Then he swung around.
"I'll make a clean breast of it in a few words, Pamela," he promised.
"I've gambled with Fischer's money, lost it, forged a transfer of his
certificates to meet my liabilities, and I am in his power. He could
have me hammered and chucked into Sing Sing, if he wanted to. That's
all there is about it."
Pamela stood the shock well. She turned to Fischer.
"How much of this are you responsible for?" she asked.
"That," he objected, "is an impotent question. It is not I who had the
moulding of your brother's character. It is not I who made him a forger
and a weakling."
Van Teyl's arm was upraised. An oath broke from his lips. Pamela seized
him firmly and drew him away.
"Be quiet, James," she begged. "Let us hear what Mr. Fischer is going
to do about it."
"That depends upon you," was the cold reply.
Pamela stood at the head of the table, between the two men, and
laughed. Her brother had sunk into a chair, and his head had dropped
moodily upon his folded arms. She looked from one to the other and a
new sense of strength inspired her. She felt that if she were not
indeed entirely mistress of the situation, yet the elements of triumph
were there to her hand.
"This is living, at any rate," she declared. "First of all I discover
that your Japanese servant is a spy--"
"Nikasti!" Van Teyl interrupted furiously. "Blast him! I knew that
there was something wrong about that fellow, Fischer."
Fischer frowned.
"What's he been up to?" he inquired.
"Well, to begin with," Pamela explained, "he searched my room, then he
locked me in here, and was proceeding to threaten me when fortunately
Mr. Lutchester arrived."
"Threaten you--what about?" Fischer demanded.
"He seemed to have an absurd idea," Pamela explained sweetly, "that I
might have somewhere concealed upon my person the formula which was
stolen from Captain Graham last Monday week at Henry's Restaurant. It
makes quite a small world of it, doesn't it?"
"I will deal with Nikasti for this," Fischer promised, "if it is true.
Meanwhile?"
"No sooner have I got over that little shock," Pamela went on, "than
you turn up with this melodramatic story, and an offer from Mr.
Fischer, which I can read in his face. Really, I feel that I shall hear
the buzz of a cinema machine in a moment. How much do you owe him,
Jimmy?"
"Eighty-nine thousand dollars," the young man groaned.
"I'll write you a cheque to-morrow morning," Pamela promised. "Will
that do, Mr. Fischer?"
"It is the last thing I desire," was the calm reply.
"Really! Well, perhaps now you will come to the point. Perhaps you will
tell me what it is that you do want?"
"Stolen property," Fischer announced deliberately--"stolen property,
however, to which I have a greater right than you."
She laughed at him mockingly.
"I think not, Mr. Fischer," she said. "You really don't deserve it, you
know."
"And why not?"
"Just see how you have bungled! You bait the trap, the poor man walks
into it, and you allow another to forestall you. Not only that, but you
actually allow Japan to come into the game, and but for Mr.
Lutchester's appearance we might both of us have been left planté là.
No, Mr. Fischer! You don't deserve the formula, and you shall not have
it. I'll pay my brother's debt to you in dollars--no other way."
"Dollars," Mr. Fischer told her sternly, "will never buy the forged
transfer. Dollars will never keep your brother out of the city police
court or Sing Sing afterwards. There isn't much future for a young man
who has been through it."
Van Teyl was upon him suddenly with a low, murderous cry. Fischer had
no time to resist, no chance of success if he had attempted it. He was
borne backwards on to the lounge, his assailant's hand upon his throat.
The young man was beside himself with drink and fury. The words poured
from his lips, incoherent, hot with rage.
"You--hound! You've made my life a hell! You've plotted and schemed to
get me into your power!... There! Do you feel the life going out of
you?... My sister, indeed! You!... You scum of the earth! You ..."
"James!"
The sound of Pamela's voice unnerved him. His fit of passion was spent.
She dragged him easily away.
"Don't be a fool, Jimmy!" she begged. "You can't settle accounts like
that."
"Can't I?" he muttered. "If we'd been alone, Pamela ... my God, if he
and I had been alone here!"
"Jimmy," she said, "you're a fool, and you've been drinking. Fetch the
water bottle."
He obeyed, and she dashed water in Fischer's face. Presently he opened
his eyes, groaned and sat up. There were two livid marks upon his
throat. Van Teyl watched him like a crouching animal. His eyes were
still lit with sullen fire. The lust for killing was upon him. Fischer
sat up and blinked. He felt the atmosphere of the room, and he knew his
danger. His hand stole into his hip pocket, and a small revolver
suddenly flashed upon his knees. He drew a long breath of relief. He
was like a fugitive who had found sanctuary.
"So that's the game, James Van Teyl, is it?" he exclaimed. "Now
listen."
He adjusted the revolver with a click. His cruel, long fingers were
pressed around its stock.
"I am not threatening you," he went on. "I am not fond of violence, and
I don't believe in it. This is just in case you come a single yard
nearer to me. Now, Miss Van Teyl, my business is with you. We won't
fence any longer. You will hand over to me the pocketbook which you
stole from Captain Graham in Henry's Restaurant. Hand it over to me
intact, you understand. In return I will give you the forged transfer
of stock, and leave it to your sense of honour as to whether you care
to pay your brother's debt or not. If you decline to consider my
proposition, I shall ring up Joseph Neville, your brother's senior
partner. I shall not even wait for to-morrow, mind. I shall make an
appointment, and I shall place in his hands the proof of your brother's
robbery."
"Perhaps," Pamela murmured, "I was wrong to stop you. Jimmy....
Anything else, Mr. Fischer?"
"Just this. I would rather have carried this matter through in a
friendly fashion, for reasons at which I think you can guess."
She shook her head.
"You flatter my intelligence!" she told him scornfully.
"I will explain, then. I desire to offer myself as your suitor."
She laughed at him without restraint or consideration.
"I would rather marry my brother's valet!" she declared.
"You are entirely wrong," he protested. "You are wrong, too, in holding
up cards against me. We are on the same side. You are an American, and
so am I. I swear that I desire nothing that is not for your good. You
have wonderful gifts, and I have great wealth and opportunities. I have
also a sincere and very heartfelt admiration for you."
"I have never been more flattered!" Pamela scoffed.
He looked a little wistfully from one to the other. Antagonism and
dislike were written in their faces. Even Pamela, who was skilled in
the art of subterfuge, made little effort to conceal her aversion.
Nevertheless, he continued doggedly.
"What does it matter," he demanded, "who handles this formula--you or
I? Our faces are turned in the same direction. There is this difference
only with me. I want to make it the basis of a kindlier feeling in
Washington towards my father's country."
Pamela's eyebrows were raised.
"Are you sure," she asked, "that the formula itself would not find its
way into your father's country?"
"As to that I pledge my word," he replied. "I am an American citizen."
"Looks like it, doesn't he!" Van Teyl jeered.
"Tell us what you have been doing in Berlin, then?" Pamela inquired.
"I had a definite mission there," Fischer assured them, "which I hope
to bring to a definite conclusion. If you are an American citizen in
the broadest sense of the word, England is no more to you than Germany.
I want to place before some responsible person in the American
Government, a proposal--an official proposal--the acceptance of which
will be in years to come of immense benefit to her."
"And the quid pro quo?" Pamela asked gently.
"I am not here for the purpose of gratifying curiosity," Fischer
replied, "but if you will take this matter up seriously, you shall be
the person through whom this proposal shall be brought before the
American Government. The whole of the negotiations shall be conducted
through you. If you succeed, you will be known throughout history as
the woman who saved America from her great and growing danger. If you
fail, you will be no worse off than you are now."
"And you propose to hand over the conduct of these negotiations to me,"
Pamela observed, "in return for what?"
"The pocketbook which you took from Captain Graham."
"So there we are, back again at the commencement of our discussion,"
Pamela remarked. "Are you going to repeat that you want this formula
for Washington and not for Berlin?"
"My first idea," Fischer confessed, "was to hand it over to Germany. I
have changed my views. Germany has great explosives of her own. This
formula shall be used in a different fashion. It shall be a lever in
the coming negotiations between America and Germany."
"We have had a great deal of conversation to no practical purpose,"
Pamela declared. "Why are you so sure that I have the formula?"
Fischer frowned slightly. He had recovered himself now, and his tone
was as steady and quiet as ever. Only occasionally his eyes wandered to
where James Van Teyl was fidgetting about the table, and at such times
his fingers tightened upon the stock of his revolver.
"It is practically certain that you have the papers," he pointed out.
"You were the first person to go up the stairs after Graham had been
rendered unconscious. Joseph admits that he had been forced to leave
him--the orchestra was waiting to play. He was alone in that little
room. That you should have known of its existence and his presence
there is surprising, but nothing more. Furthermore, I am convinced that
you were in some way concerned with his rescue later. You visited
Hassan and you visited Joseph. From the latter you procured the key of
the chapel. If only he had had the courage to tell the truth--well, we
will let that pass. You have the papers, Miss Van Teyl. I am bidding a
great price for them. If you are a wise woman, you will not hesitate."
There was a knock at the door. They all three turned towards it a
little impatiently. Even Pamela and her brother felt the grip of an
absorbing problem. To their surprise, it was Lutchester who reappeared
upon the threshold. In his hand he held a small sealed packet.
"So sorry to disturb you all," he apologised. "I have something here
which I believe belongs to you, Miss Van Teyl. I thought I'd better
bring it up and explain. From the way your little Japanese friend was
holding on to it, I thought it might be important. It is a little torn,
but that isn't my fault."
He held it out to Pamela. It was a long packet torn open at one end.
From it was protruding a worn, brown pocketbook. Pamela's hand closed
upon it mechanically. There was a dazed look in her eyes. Fischer's
fingers stole once more towards the pocket into which, at Lutchester's
entrance, he had slipped his revolver.