As Jennie rapidly hurried away from the office of Mr. Cadbury Taylor,
there arose in her mind some agitation as to what the detective would
think of her sudden flight. She was convinced that, up to the moment of
leaving him so abruptly, he had not the slightest suspicion she herself,
to whom he was then talking, was the person he had been searching for up
and down Europe. What must he think of one who, while speaking with him,
suddenly, without a word of leave-taking, disappeared as if the earth
had opened and swallowed her, and all because the handle of the door to
the inner room had turned? Then the excuse she had given for not wishing
to meet Lord Donal must have struck him as ridiculously inadequate.
When she reached her desk and reflected with more calmness over
the situation, she found no cause to censure herself for her hasty
departure; although she had acted on impulse, she saw there had been
nothing else to do; another moment and she would have been face to face
with Lord Donal himself.
Next day brought a note from the detective which went far to reassure
her. He apologized for having made the appointment without her
permission, and explained that Lord Donal’s unexpected arrival in
London, and his stubborn unbelief that it had been the Princess herself
whom he met at the ball, seemingly left the detective no alternative out
to call on the person who had so persistently advanced the theory, to
explain it to the one most intimately concerned. It had not occurred
to him at the time to think that Miss Baxter might object to meet Lord
Donal, who was an entire stranger to her; but now he saw that he was
wrong, etc., etc., etc. This note did much to convince Jennie that,
after all, the detective had not seen the clues which appeared to be
spread so plainly before his eyes. Cadbury Taylor, however, said nothing
about the search being ended, and a few days later Jennie received a
disquieting letter from the Princess von Steinheimer.
“My dear Jennie,” her Highness wrote, “I am sure the detectives are
after you, and so I thought it best to send you a word of warning. Of
course it is only surmise on my part, but for days there has been a
woman hovering about the castle, trying to get information from my
servants. My maid came directly to me and told me what she knew. The
woman detective had spoken to her. This inquisitive person, who had come
from Paris, wished particularly to know whether I had been seen about
the castle during the week in which the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s ball
took place; and so this leads me to suppose that some one is making
inquiries for you. It must be either Lord Donal Stirling or the Duke
of Chiselhurst, but I rather think it is the former. I have written an
indignant letter to Lord Donal, accusing him of having caused detectives
to haunt the castle. I have not yet received a reply, but Lord Donal is
a truthful person, and in a day or two I expect to find out whether or
not he has a hand in this business. Meanwhile, Jennie, be on your guard,
and I will write you again as soon as I have something further to tell.”
The reading of this letter greatly increased Jennie’s fears, for she
felt assured that, stupid as the men undoubtedly were, they verged so
closely on the brink of discovery, they were almost certain to stumble
upon the truth if the investigation was continued. She wrote a
hurried note to the Princess, imploring her to be cautious, and not
inadvertently give any clue that would lead to her discovery. Her
letter evidently crossed one from the Princess herself. Lord Donal had
confessed, said the letter, and promised never, never to do it again.
“He says that before my letter was received he had stopped the
detectives, who were doing no good and apparently only annoying innocent
people. He says the search is ended, as far as the detective is
concerned, and that I need fear no more intrusions from inquiry agents,
male or female. He apologized very handsomely, but says he has not given
up hopes of finding the lady who disappeared. And now, Jennie, I trust
that you will admit my cleverness. You see that I had only a word or
two from my maid as a clue, but I unravelled the whole plot and at once
discovered who was the instigator of it, so I think I wouldn’t make a
bad detective myself. I am tremendously interested in episodes like
this. I believe if I had known nothing of the impersonation, and if the
case had been put in my hands, I should have discovered you long ago.
Can’t you think of some way in which my undoubted talent for research
may be made use of? You don’t know how much I envy you in your newspaper
office, always with an absorbing mystery on hand to solve. It must be
like being the editor of a puzzle department. I wish you would let me
help you next time you have anything important to do. Will you promise?
“When you write again, please send your letter to Vienna, as we are
going into residence there, my husband having been unexpectedly called
to the capital. He holds an important position in the Government, as
perhaps you remember.”
Jennie was delighted to know that all inquiry had ceased, and she wrote
a long letter of gratitude to the Princess. She concluded her epistle by
saying: “It is perfectly absurd of you to envy one who has to work as
hard as I. You are the person to be envied. It is not all beer and
skittles in a newspaper office, which is a good thing, for I don’t like
beer, and I don’t know what skittles is or are. But I promise you that
the next time I have an interesting case on hand I shall write and
give you full particulars, and I am sure that together we shall be
invincible.”
But one trouble leaves merely to give place to another in this life.
Jennie was disturbed to notice that Mr. Hardwick was becoming more and
more confidential with her. He sat down by her desk whenever there was
a reasonable excuse for doing so, and he consulted her on matters
important and on matters trivial. An advance of salary came to her,
and she knew it was through his influence with the board of directors.
Although Mr. Hardwick was sharp and decisive in business matters, he
proved an awkward man where his affections were concerned, and he often
came and sat by the girl’s desk, evidently wishing to say something, and
yet quite as evidently having nothing to say; and thus the situation
became embarrassing. Jennie was a practical girl and had no desire to
complicate the situation by allowing her employer to fall in love with
her, yet it was impossible to go to him and ask that his attentions
might be limited strictly to a business basis. The crisis, however,
was brought on by Mr. Hardwick himself. One day, when they were alone
together, he said abruptly,--
“That romance in high life which you were investigating with Mr. Cadbury
Taylor did not come to anything?”
“No, Mr. Hardwick.”
“Then don’t you think we might enact a romance in high life in this very
room; it is high enough from the street to entitle it to be called a
romance in high life,” and the editor grinned uneasily, like an unready
man who hopes to relieve a dilemma by a poor joke.
Jennie, however, did not laugh and did not look up at him, but continued
to scribble shorthand notes on the paper before her.
“Ah, Mr. Hardwick!” she said with a sigh, “I see you have discovered my
secret, although I had hoped to conceal it even from your alert eyes.
I am, indeed, in the situation of _Ralph Rackstraw_ in ‘Pinafore,’ ‘I
love, and love, alas! above my station,’ and now that you know half, you
may as well know all. It arose out of that unfortunate ball given by the
Duchess of Chiselhurst which will haunt me all the rest of my life, I
fear,” said Jennie, still without looking up. Mr. Hardwick smothered an
ejaculation and was glad that the girl’s eyes were not upon him. There
was a pause of a few moments’ duration between them. He took the path
which was left open to him, fondly flattering himself that, while he
had stumbled inadvertently upon her romance, he had kept his own secret
safe.
“I--I have no right to intrude on your confidences, Miss Baxter,”
he said finally with an effort, “and I hope you will excuse me
for--for------”
“Oh! I have been sure for some days you knew it,” interrupted the girl,
looking up, but not at him. “I have been neglecting my work, I fear, and
so you were quite right in speaking.”
“No, your work is all right; it wasn’t that exactly--but never mind, we
won’t speak of this any more, for I see it embarrasses you.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hardwick,” said Jennie, again bending her eyes on the
desk before her.
The man saw the colour come and go in her cheeks, and thought he had
never beheld anyone so entrancing. He rose quickly, without making
further attempt at explanation, and left the room. One or two tear drops
stained the paper on which the girl was scribbling. She didn’t like
giving pain to anyone, but could not hold herself to blame for what
had happened. She made up her mind to leave the _Daily Bugle_ and seek
employment elsewhere, but next day Mr. Hardwick showed no trace of
disappointment, and spoke to her with that curt imperiousness which had
heretofore been his custom.
“Miss Baxter,” he said, “have you been reading the newspapers with any
degree of attention lately?”
“Yes, Mr. Hardwick.”
“Have you been watching the drift of foreign politics?”
“Do you refer to that speech by the Prime Minister of Austria a week or
two ago?”
“Yes, that is what I have in my mind. As you know, then, it amounted
almost to a declaration of war against England--almost, but not quite.
It was a case of saying too much or of not saying enough; however, it
was not followed up, and the Premier has been as dumb as a graven image
ever since. England has many enemies in different parts of the world,
but I must confess that this speech by the Austrian Premier came as a
surprise. There must have been something hidden, which is not visible
from the outside. The Premier is too astute a man not to know exactly
what his words meant, and he was under no delusion as to the manner in
which England would take them. It is a case, then, of, ‘When I was so
quickly done for, I wonder what I was begun for’--that is what all
Europe is asking.”
“Is it not generally supposed, Mr. Hardwick, that his object was to
consolidate Austria and Hungary? I understood that local politics were
at the bottom of his fiery speech.”
“Quite so, but the rousing of the war spirit in Austria and Hungary was
useless unless that spirit is given something to do. It needs a war, not
a threat of war, to consolidate Austria and Hungary. If the speech had
been followed up by hostile action, or by another outburst that would
make war inevitable, I could understand it. The tone of the speech
indicates that the Prime Minister meant business at the time he gave
utterance to it. Something has occurred meanwhile to change the
situation, and what that something is, all the newspapers in Europe have
been trying to find out. We have had our regular Vienna representative
at work ever since the words were uttered, and for the past two weeks
he has been assisted by one of the cleverest men I could send him from
London; but up to date, both have failed. Now I propose that you go
quietly to Vienna; I shall not let either of the men know you are
investigating the affair at which they have laboured with such little
success; for both are good men, and I do not want to discourage either
of them; still, above all things, I wish to have the solution of this
mystery. So it occurred to me last night that you might succeed where
others had failed. What do you think of it?”
“I am willing to try,” said Miss Baxter, as there flashed across her
mind an idea that here was a case in which the Princess von Steinheimer
could be of the greatest assistance to her.
“It has been thought,” went on the editor, “that the Emperor is
extremely adverse to having trouble with England or any other country.
Still, if that were the case, a new Cabinet would undoubtedly have been
formed after this intemperate address of the Premier; but this man still
holds his office, and there has been neither explanation nor apology
from Court or Cabinet. I am convinced that there is something behind all
this, a wheel within a wheel of some sort, because, the day after the
speech, there came a rumour from Vienna that an attempt had been made on
the life of the Emperor or of the Premier; it was exceedingly vague, but
it was alleged that a dynamite explosion had taken place in the
palace. This was promptly contradicted, but we all know what official
contradictions amount to. There is internal trouble of some kind at
the Court of Vienna, and if we could publish the full details, such an
article would give us a European reputation. When could you be ready to
begin your journey, Miss Baxter?”
“I am ready now.”
“Well, in an affair like this it is best to lose no time; you can go
to-morrow morning, then?”
“Oh, certainly, but I must leave the office at once, and you should get
someone to finish the work I am on.”
“I will attend to that,” said the editor.
Thus relieved, Jennie betook herself to a telegraph office. She knew
that if she wrote a letter to the Princess, who was now in Vienna, she
would probably herself reach that city as soon as her note, so she
telegraphed that something important was on hand which would take her to
Vienna by next day’s Orient express, and intimated that it was a matter
in which she might need the assistance of the Princess. Then she
hastened to her rooms to pack up. That evening there came an answering
telegram from Vienna. The Princess asked her to bring her ball dress and
all the rest of her finery. The lady added that she herself would be at
the railway station, and asked Jennie to telegraph to her, _en route_,
the time of her arrival. It was evident that her Highness was quite
prepared to engage in whatever scheme there was on hand, and this fact
encouraged Jennie to hope that success perhaps awaited her.