They had a smooth and speedy passage across from Calais to Dover, and
the train drew in at Charing Cross Station exactly on time. Lord Donal
recognized his uncle’s brougham waiting for him, and on handing the
young lady out of the railway carriage he espied the old man himself
closely scrutinizing the passengers. Sir James, catching sight of him,
came eagerly forward and clasped both his nephew’s hands.
“Donal,” he cried, “I am very glad indeed to see you. Is everything
right?”
“As right as can be, uncle.”
“Then I am glad of that, too, for we have had some very disquieting
hints from the East.”
“They were quite justified, as I shall tell you later on; but meanwhile,
uncle, allow me to introduce to you Miss Baxter, who has done me the
honour of promising to be my wife.”
Jennie blushed in the searching rays of the electric light as the old
man turned quickly towards her. Sir James held her hand in his for some
moments before he spoke, gazing intently at her. Then he said slowly,
“Ah, Donal, Donal, you always had a keen eye for the beautiful.”
“Oh, I say,” cried the young man, abashed at his uncle’s frankness, “I
don’t call that a diplomatic remark at all, you know.”
“Indeed, Sir James,” said the girl, laughing merrily, “it is better than
diplomatic, it is complimentary, and I assure you I appreciate it. The
first time he met me he took me for quite another person.”
“Then, whoever that person is, my dear,” replied the old man, “I’ll
guarantee she is a lovely woman. And you mustn’t mind what I say; nobody
else does, otherwise my boy Donal here would be much higher in the
service than the present moment finds him; but I am pleased to tell
you that the journey he has now finished will prove greatly to his
advantage.”
“Indeed, uncle, that is true,” said the young man, looking at his
betrothed, “for on this journey I met again Miss Baxter, whom, to my
great grief, I had lost for some time. And now, uncle, I want you to
do me a great favour. Do you know Mr. Hardwick, editor of the _Daily
Bugle_?”
“Yes, I know him; but I don’t like him, nor his paper either.”
“Well, neither do the Russians, for that matter, by this time, and I
merely wish to tell you that if it hadn’t been for his action, and for
the promptness of a member of his staff, I should have failed in this
mission. I was drugged by the Russian police and robbed. Miss Baxter,
who was on the train, saw something of what was going forward, and
succeeded, most deftly, in despoiling the robbers. I was lying
insensible at the time and helpless. She secured the document and handed
it back to me when we had crossed the frontier, leaving in the hands of
the Russians a similar envelope containing a copy of the _Daily Bugle_;
therefore, uncle, if in future you can do anything to oblige Mr.
Hardwick, you will help in a measure to cancel the obligation which our
family owes to him.”
“My dear boy, I shall be delighted to do so. I am afraid I have been
rather uncivil to him. If you wish it, I will go at once and apologize
to him.”
“Oh, no,” cried Jennie, “you must not do that; but if you can help him
without jeopardizing the service, I, for one, will be very glad.”
“So shall I,” said Donal.
The old man took out his card-case, and on the back of his card
scribbled a most cordial invitation to Hardwick, asking him to call on
him. He handed this to Jennie, and said,--
“Tell Mr. Hardwick that I shall be pleased to see him at any time.”
“And now,” said Lord Donal, “you must let us both escort you home in the
carriage.”
“No, no. I shall take a hansom, and will go directly to the office of
the _Bugle_, for Mr. Hardwick will be there by this time.”
“But we can drive you there.”
“No, please.”
She held out her hand to Sir James and said, with the least bit of
hesitation before uttering the last word, “Good night--uncle.”
“Good night, my dear,” said the old man, “and God bless you,” he added
with a tenderness which his appearance, so solemn and stately, left one
unprepared for.
Lord Donal saw his betrothed into a hansom, protesting all the while at
thus having to allow her to go off unprotected.
“What an old darling he is,” murmured Jennie, ignoring his protests. “I
think if Mr. Hardwick had allowed me to look after the interests of the
paper at the Foreign Office, Sir James would not have snubbed me.”
“If the Foreign Office dared to do such a thing, it would hear of
something not to its advantage from the Diplomatic Service; and so,
goodnight, my dear.” And, with additions, the nephew repeated the
benediction of the uncle.
Jennie drove directly to the office of the _Daily Bugle_, and, for the
last time, mounting the stairs, entered the editorial rooms. She found
Mr. Hardwick at his desk, and he sprang up quickly on seeing who his
visitor was. “Ah, you have returned,” he cried. “You didn’t telegraph to
me, so I suppose that means failure.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Hardwick. It all depends on whether or not your
object was exactly what you told me it was.”
“And what was that? I think I told you that my desire was to get
possession of the document which was being transmitted from St.
Petersburg to London.”
“No; you said the object was the mollifying of old Sir James Cardiff, of
the Foreign Office.”
“Exactly; that was the ultimate object, of course.”
“Very well. Read this card. Sir James gave it to me at Charing Cross
Station less than half an hour ago.”
The editor took the card, turned it over in his hands once or twice, and
read the cordial message which the old man had scribbled on the back of
it.
“Then you have succeeded,” cried Hardwick. “You got the document; but
why did you give it to Sir James yourself, instead of letting me hand it
to him?”
“That is a long story. To put it briefly, it was because the messenger
carrying the document was Lord Donal Stirling, who is--who is--an old
friend of mine. Sir James is his uncle, and Lord Donal promised that he
would persuade the old man to let other newspapers have no advantages
which he refused to the _Daily Bugle_. I did not give the document to
Sir James, I gave it back to Lord Donal.”
“Lord Donal Stirling--Lord Donal Stirling,” mused the editor. “Where
have I heard that name before?”
“He is a member of the British Embassy at St. Petersburg, so you may
have seen his name in the despatches.”
“No. He is not so celebrated as all that comes to. Ah, I remember now. I
met the detective the other night and asked him if anything had come of
that romance in high life, to solve which he had asked your assistance.
He said the search for the missing lady had been abandoned, and
mentioned the name of Lord Donal Stirling as the foolish young man who
had been engaged in the pursuit of the unknown.”
Jennie coloured at this and drew herself up indignantly.
“Before you say anything further against Lord Donal,” she cried hotly,
“I wish to inform you that he and I are to be married.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the editor icily. “Then, having failed to
find the other girl, he has speedily consoled himself by--”
“There was no other girl. I was the person of whom Mr. Cadbury Taylor
was in search. I willingly gave him valuable assistance in the task of
failing to find myself. Having only a stupid man to deal with, I had
little difficulty in accomplishing my purpose. Neither Mr. Taylor nor
Mr. Hardwick ever suspected that the missing person was in their own
employ.”
“Well, I’m blessed!” ejaculated Hardwick. “So you baffled Cadbury Taylor
in searching for yourself, as you baffled me in getting hold of the
Russian letter. It seems to me, Miss Baxter, that where your own
inclinations do not coincide with the wishes of your employers, the
interests of those who pay you fall to the ground.”
“Mr. Cadbury Taylor didn’t pay me anything for my services as amateur
detective, and he has, therefore, no right to grumble. As for the St.
Petersburg trip, I shall send you a cheque for all expenses incurred as
soon as I reach home.”
“Oh, you mistake me,” asserted Mr. Hardwick earnestly. “I had no thought
of even hinting that you have not earned over and over again all the
money the _Daily Bugle_ has paid you; besides, I was longing for your
return, for I want your assistance in solving a mystery that has rather
puzzled us all. Paris is in a turmoil just now over the--”
Jennie’s clear laugh rang out.
“I am going over to Paris in a day or two, Mr. Hardwick, to solve the
mystery of dressmaking, and I think, from what I know of it already, it
will require my whole attention. I must insist on returning to you the
cost of the St. Petersburg journey, for, after all, it proved to be
rather a personal excursion, and I couldn’t think of allowing the paper
to pay for it. I merely came in to-night to hand you this card from
Sir James Cardiff, and I also desired to tender to you personally my
resignation. And so I must bid you good-bye, Mr. Hardwick,” said the
girl holding out her hand; “and I thank you very much indeed for having
given me a chance to work on your paper.”
Before the editor could reply, she was gone, and that good man sat down
in his chair bewildered by the suddenness of it all, the room looking
empty and dismal, lacking her presence.
“Confound Lord Donal Stirling!” he muttered under his breath, and then,
as an editor should he went on impassively with his night’s work.
* * * * *
It was intended that the wedding should be rather a quiet affair, but
circumstances proved too strong for the young people. Lord Donal was
very popular and the bride was very beautiful. Sir James thought it
necessary to invite a great many people, and he intimated to Lord Donal
that a highly placed personage desired to honour the function with his
presence. And thus the event created quite a little flutter in the smart
set. The society papers affirmed that this elevated personage had been
particularly pleased by some diplomatic service which Lord Donal had
recently rendered him; but then, of course, one can never believe what
one reads in the society press. However, the man of exalted rank was
there, and so people said that perhaps there might be something in
the rumour. Naturally there was a great turn-out of ambassadors and
ministers, and their presence gave colour and dignity to the crush
at St. George’s, Hanover Square. The Princess von Steinheimer made a
special journey from Vienna to attend, and on this occasion she brought
the Prince with her. The general opinion was that the bridegroom was a
very noble-looking fellow, and that the bride, in her sumptuous wedding
apparel, was quite too lovely for anything.
The Princess was exceedingly bright and gay, and she chatted with her
old friends the Ambassadors from Austria and America.
“I’m _so_ sorry,” she said to the Ambassador from America, “that I did
not have time to speak with you at the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s ball,
but I was compelled to leave early. You should have come to me sooner.
The Count here was much more gallant. We had a most delightful
conversation, hadn’t we, Count? I was with Lord Donal, you remember.”
“Oh, yes,” replied the aged Austrian, bowing low; “I shall not soon
forget the charming conversation I had with your Highness, and I hope
you, on your part, have not forgotten the cordial invitation you gave me
to visit again your castle at Meran.”
“Indeed, Count, you know very well how glad I am to see you at any time,
either in Vienna or at Meran.”
The American Ambassador remained silent, and glanced alternately from
the bride to the Princess with a puzzled expression on his face.
The mystery of the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s Ball proved too much for
him, as the search for the missing lady had proved too much for Mr.
Cadbury Taylor.
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg’s Jennie Baxter, Journalist, by Robert Barr