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A MAKER OF HISTORY
by
E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
Author of
"The Kingdom of the Blind," "The Hillman,"
"The Double Traitor," Etc.
With Frontispiece
[Illustration: "'Guard this for me,' she whispered." (page 148)
_Frontispiece_]
[Illustration]
A. L. Burt Company
Publishers New York
Published by arrangement with Little, Brown & Company
Copyright, 1905, 1906,
by Little, Brown, and Company.
All rights reserved
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
BOOK I
I. AN ACCIDENTAL SPY 1
II. AT THE CAFÉ MONTMARTRE 11
III. A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 18
IV. THE FALLING OF THE HANDKERCHIEF 26
V. LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT 33
VI. THE VANISHING LADY 40
VII. THE DECOY-HOUSE OF EUROPE 48
VIII. "DUNCOMBE'S HOLD-UP" 55
IX. THE STORY OF A CALL 64
X. SPENCER'S SURPRISE 72
XI. A WORD OF WARNING 80
XII. THE SHADOWING OF DUNCOMBE 87
XIII. "HER VOICE" 93
XIV. LAUGHTER OF WOMEN 101
XV. MISS FIELDING FROM AMERICA 107
XVI. MISS FIELDING ASKS A QUESTION 115
XVII. GEORGE DUNCOMBE'S LIE 121
XVIII. "WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?" 129
XIX. A HILLSIDE ENCOUNTER 137
XX. MR. FIELDING IN A NEW RÔLE 143
XXI. A WOMAN'S CRY 151
XXII. LORD RUNTON IS SUSPICIOUS 160
XXIII. HER FIRST KISS 171
XXIV. THE EMPTY ROOM 179
BOOK II
I. GUY POYNTON AGAIN 185
II. AN OLD STORY 192
III. A BODY FROM THE SEINE 200
IV. THE INSOLENCE OF MADAME LA MARQUISE 208
V. THE INTERVIEWING OF PHYLLIS 217
VI. THE BLUNDERING OF ANDREW 225
VII. SPENCER GETS HIS CHANCE 234
VIII. A POLITICAL INTERLUDE 243
IX. ARRESTED! 251
X. THE CHECKMATING OF MONSIEUR LOUIS 259
XI. THE MAKING OF HISTORY 267
XII. AN OLD FRIEND 276
XIII. A NEWSPAPER SENSATION 285
XIV. THE MAN WHO SAVED HIS COUNTRY 294
XV. A MERRY MEETING 301
A MAKER OF HISTORY
BOOK I
CHAPTER I
AN ACCIDENTAL SPY
The boy sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was stiff, footsore, and a little
chilly. There was no man-servant arranging his bath and clothes, no
pleasant smell of coffee--none of the small luxuries to which he was
accustomed. On the contrary, he had slept all night upon a bed of
bracken, with no other covering than the stiff pine needles from the
tall black trees, whose rustling music had lulled him to sleep.
He sat up, and remembered suddenly where he was and how he had come
there. He yawned, and was on the point of struggling to his feet when he
became aware of certain changed conditions in his surroundings. Some
instinct, of simple curiosity perhaps, but of far-reaching effect, led
him to crawl back into his hiding-place and watch.
Last night, after many hours of painful walking, two things alone had
impressed themselves upon his consciousness: the dark illimitable forest
and the double line of rails, which with the absolute straightness of
exact science had stretched behind and in front till the tree-tops in
the far distance seemed to touch, and the rails themselves to vanish
into the black heart of the close-growing pines. For miles he had
limped along the painfully rough track without seeing the slightest sign
of any break in the woods, or any human being. At last the desire for
sleep had overtaken him. He was a hardy young Englishman, and a night
out of doors in the middle of June under these odorous pines presented
itself merely as a not disagreeable adventure. Five minutes after the
idea had occurred to him he was asleep.
And now in the gray morning he looked out upon a different scene.
Scarcely a dozen yards from him stood a single travelling-coach of dark
green, drawn by a heavy engine. At intervals of scarcely twenty paces up
and down the line, as far as he could see, soldiers were stationed like
sentries. They were looking sharply about in all directions, and he
could even hear the footsteps of others crashing through the wood. From
the train three or four men in long cloaks had already descended. They
were standing in the track talking together.
The young man behind the bracken felt himself in somewhat of a dilemma.
There was a delightful smell of fresh coffee from the waiting coach, and
there seemed to be not the slightest reason why he should not emerge
from his hiding-place and claim the hospitality of these people. He was
a quite harmless person, with proper credentials, and an adequate
explanation of his presence there. On the other hand, the spirit of
adventure natural to his years strongly prompted him to remain where he
was and watch. He felt certain that something was going to happen.
Besides, those soldiers had exactly the air of looking for somebody to
shoot!
Whilst he was hesitating, something did happen. There was a shrill
whistle, a puff of white smoke in the distance, and another train
approached from the opposite direction.
It drew up within a few feet of the one which was already waiting.
Almost immediately half a dozen men, who were already standing upon the
platform of the car, descended. One of these approached rapidly, and
saluted the central figure of those who had been talking together in the
track. After a few moments' conversation these two, followed by one
other man only who was carrying a writing portfolio, ascended the
platform of the train which had arrived first and disappeared inside.
The young man who was watching these proceedings yawned.
"No duel, then!" he muttered to himself. "I've half a mind to go out."
Then he caught sight of a particularly fierce-looking soldier with his
finger already upon the trigger of his gun, and he decided to remain
where he was.
In about half an hour the two men reappeared on the platform of the car.
Simultaneously the window of the carriage in which they had been sitting
was opened, and the third man was visible, standing before a small table
and arranging some papers. Suddenly he was called from outside. He
thrust his hat upon the papers, and hastened to obey the summons.
A little gust of breeze from the opening and closing of the door
detached one of the sheets of paper from the restraining weight of the
hat. It fluttered out of the window and lay for a moment upon the side
of the track. No one noticed it, and in a second or two it fluttered
underneath the clump of bracken behind which the young Englishman was
hiding. He thrust out his hand and calmly secured it.
In less than five minutes the place was deserted. Amidst many hasty
farewells, wholly unintelligible to the watcher, the two groups of men
separated and climbed into their respective trains. As soon as every one
was out of sight the Englishman rose with a little grunt of satisfaction
and stretched himself.
He glanced first at the sheet of paper, and finding it written in German
thrust it into his pocket. Then he commenced an anxious search for
smoking materials, and eventually produced a pipe, a crumpled packet of
tobacco, and two matches.
"Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed, lighting up. "And now for a tramp."
He plodded steadily along the track for an hour or more. All the time he
was in the heart of the forest. Pheasants and rabbits and squirrels
continually crossed in front of him. Once a train passed, and an excited
guard shouted threats and warnings, to which he replied in fluent but
ineffective English.
"Johnnies seem to think I'm trespassing!" he remarked to himself in an
aggrieved tone. "I can't help being on their beastly line!"
Tall, smooth-faced, and fair, he walked with the long step and lightsome
grace of the athletic young Englishman of his day. He was well dressed
in tweed clothes, cut by a good tailor, a little creased by his night
out of doors, but otherwise immaculate. He hummed a popular air to
himself, and held his head high. If only he were not so hungry.
Then he came to a station. It was little more than a few rows of planks,
with a chalet at one end--but a very welcome sight confronted him. A
little pile of luggage, with his initials, G. P., was on the end of the
platform nearest to him.
"That conductor was a sensible chap," he exclaimed. "Glad I tipped him.
Hullo!"
The station-master, in uniform, came hurrying out. The young Englishman
took off his hat, and produced a phrase book from his pocket. He ignored
the stream of words which the station-master, with many gesticulations,
was already pouring out.
"My luggage," he said firmly, laying one hand upon the pile, and waving
the phrase book.
The station-master acquiesced heartily. He waxed eloquent again, but the
Englishman was busy with the phrase book.
"Hungry! Hotel?" he attempted.
The station-master pointed to where the smoke was curling upwards from a
score or so of houses about half a mile distant. The Englishman was
getting pleased with himself. Outside was a weird-looking carriage, and
on the box seat, fast asleep, was a very fat man in a shiny hat,
ornamented by a bunch of feathers. He pointed to the luggage, then to
the cab, and finally to the village.
"Luggage, hotel, carriage!" he suggested.
The station-master beamed all over. With a shout, which must have
reached the village, he awakened the sleeping man. In less than five
minutes the Englishman and his luggage were stored away in the carriage.
His ticket had been examined by the station-master, and smilingly
accepted. There were more bows and salutes, and the carriage drove off.
Mr. Guy Poynton leaned back amongst the mouldy leather upholstery, and
smiled complacently.
"Easiest thing in the world to get on in a foreign country with a phrase
book and your wits," he remarked to himself. "Jove, I am hungry!"
He drove into a village of half a dozen houses or so, which reminded him
of the pictured abodes of Noah and his brethren. An astonished
innkeeper, whose morning attire apparently consisted of trousers, shirt,
and spectacles, ushered him into a bare room with a trestle table. Guy
produced his phrase book.
"Hungry!" he said vociferously. "Want to eat! Coffee!"
The man appeared to understand, but in case there should have been any
mistake Guy followed him into the kitchen. The driver, who had lost no
time, was already there, with a long glass of beer before him. Guy
produced a mark, laid it on the table, touched himself, the innkeeper,
and the driver, and pointed to the beer. The innkeeper understood, and
the beer was good.
The driver, who had been of course ludicrously over-paid, settled down
in his corner, and announced his intention of seeing through to the end
this most extraordinary and Heaven-directed occurrence. The innkeeper
and his wife busied themselves with the breakfast, and Guy made remarks
every now and then from his phrase book, which were usually
incomprehensible, except when they concerned a further supply of beer.
With a brave acceptance of the courtesies of the country he had accepted
a cigar from the driver, and was already contemplating the awful moment
when he would have to light it. Just then an interruption came.
It was something very official, but whether military or of the police
Guy could not tell. It strode into the room with clanking of spurs, and
the driver and innkeeper alike stood up in respect. It saluted Guy. Guy
took off his hat. Then there came words, but Guy was busy with his
phrase book.
"I cannot a word of German speak!" he announced at last.
A deadlock ensued. The innkeeper and the driver rushed into the breach.
Conversation became furious. Guy took advantage of the moment to slip
the cigar into his pocket, and to light a cigarette. Finally, the
officer swung himself round, and departed abruptly.
"Dolmetscher," the driver announced to him triumphantly.
"Dolmetscher," the innkeeper repeated.
Guy turned it up in his phrase book, and found that it meant
interpreter. He devoted himself then to stimulating the preparations for
breakfast.
The meal was ready at last. There were eggs and ham and veal,
dark-colored bread, and coffee, sufficient for about a dozen people. The
driver constituted himself host, and Guy, with a shout of laughter, sat
down where he was, and ate. In the midst of the meal the officer
reappeared, ushering in a small wizened-faced individual of unmistakably
English appearance. Guy turned round in his chair, and the newcomer
touched his forelock.
"Hullo!" Guy exclaimed. "You're English!"
"Yes, sir!" the man answered. "Came over to train polo ponies for the
Prince of Haepsburg. Not in any trouble, I hope, sir?"
"Not I," Guy answered cheerily. "Don't mind my going on with my
breakfast, do you? What's it all about? Who's the gentleman with the
fireman's helmet on, and what's he worrying about?"
"He is an officer of the police, sir, on special service," the man
answered. "You have been reported for trespassing on the State railway
this morning."
"Trespassing be blowed!" Guy answered. "I've got my ticket for the
frontier. We were blocked by signal about half a dozen miles off this
place, and I got down to stretch my legs. I understood them to say that
we could not go on for half an hour or so. They never tried to stop my
getting down, and then off they went without any warning, and left me
there."
"I will translate to the officer, sir," the man said.
"Right!" Guy declared. "Go ahead."
There was a brisk colloquy between the two. Then the little man began
again.
"He says that your train passed here at midnight, and that you did not
arrive until past six."
"Quite right!" Guy admitted. "I went to sleep. I didn't know how far it
was to the station, and I was dead tired."
"The officer wishes to know whether many trains passed you in the
night?"
"Can't say," Guy answered. "I sleep very soundly, and I never opened my
eyes after the first few minutes."
"The officer wishes to know whether you saw anything unusual upon the
line?" the little man asked.
"Nothing at all," Guy answered coolly. "Bit inquisitive, isn't he?"
The little man came closer to the table.
"He wishes to see your passport, sir," he announced.
Guy handed it to him, also a letter of credit and several other
documents.
"He wants to know why you were going to the frontier, sir!"
"Sort of fancy to say that I'd been in Russia, that's all!" Guy
answered. "You tell him I'm a perfectly harmless individual. Never been
abroad before."
The officer listened, and took notes in his pocketbook of the passport
and letter of credit. Then he departed with a formal salute, and they
heard his horse's hoofs ring upon the road outside as he galloped away.
The little man came close up to the table.
"You'll excuse me, sir," he said, "but you seem to have upset the
officials very much by being upon the line last night. There have been
some rumors going about--but perhaps you're best not to know that. May I
give you a word of advice, sir?"
"Let me give you one," Guy declared. "Try this beer!"
"I thank you, sir," the man answered. "I will do so with pleasure. But
if you are really an ordinary tourist, sir,--as I have no doubt you
are,--let this man drive you to Streuen, and take the train for the
Austrian frontier. You may save yourself a good deal of unpleasantness."
"I'll do it!" Guy declared. "Vienna was the next place I was going to,
anyhow. You tell the fellow where to take me, will you?"
The man spoke rapidly to the driver.
"I think that you will be followed, sir," he added, turning to Guy, "but
very likely they won't interfere with you. The railway last night for
twenty miles back was held up for State purposes. We none of us know
why, and it doesn't do to be too curious over here, but they have an
idea that you are either a journalist or a spy."
"_Civis Britannicus sum!_" the boy answered, with a laugh.
"It doesn't quite mean what it used to, sir," the man answered quietly.