"Then don't allow her to think that your love has cooled," he urged.
"Act diplomatically in this matter, and strive to get at the truth."
"And deceive her?"
"Deception is permissible if she is a spy."
"But she is not a spy," I declared quickly.
"That remains to be seen!" he snapped. He then turned on his heel and
passed into an adjoining room.
At three o'clock I presented my card at the flat in the Rue de
Courcelles, and was admitted to a cosy little salon, where the
persiennes were closed to keep out the blazing July sun, and the subdued
light was welcome after the glare of the streets. Scarcely, however,
had my eyes become accustomed to the semi-darkness, when the door
suddenly opened, and I found myself face to face with the woman I had
loved a few years ago.
"Gerald! You!" she cried in English, with that pretty accent which had
always struck me as so charming.
Our hands clasped. I looked into her face and saw that in the two years
which had elapsed she had grown even more beautiful. In a cool white
dress of soft, clinging muslin, which, although simply made, bore the
unmistakable stamp of a couturiere of the first order, she stood before
me, my hand in hers, in silence.
"So you have come to me?" she said in a strained voice. "You have come,
at last?"
"You did not let me know you were in Paris," I protested.
"Giraud told you four days ago," she responded, "and you could not spare
a single half-hour for me until to-day!" she added in a tone of
reproach. "Besides, I wrote to you from Cairo, and you never replied."
"Forgive me," I urged--"forgive me, Yolande. It is really my fault."
"Because you have forgotten me," she said huskily. "Here, in Paris, you
have so many distractions that memories of our old days in Brussels and
at Houffalize have all been swept away. Come, admit that what I say is
the truth."
"I shall admit nothing of the kind, Yolande," I answered, with
diplomatic caution. "I only admit my surprise at finding you here in
July. Why, there is nobody here except our unfortunate selves at the
embassies. The boulevards are given over to the perspiring British
tourist in knickerbockers and the usual week-end trippers who `do' the
city in a char-a-banc."
She laughed for the first time, and seated herself upon a large settee
covered with yellow silk, motioning me to a chair near her.
"It is true," she said. "Paris is not at all pleasant just now. We are
only here for frocks. In a week we go to Marienbad. And you--how are
you?" and she surveyed me with her head held slightly aside in that
piquante manner I knew so well.
"The same," I laughed--"ever the same."
"Not the same to me," she hastened to protest.
"I might make a similar charge against yourself," I said. "Remember,
you did not tell me you were in Paris."
"Because I thought you would know it quickly enough. I wanted, if
possible, to meet you accidentally and surprise you. I went to the ball
at the German Embassy, but you were not there."
"I was in London," I explained briefly, my thoughts reverting to the
allegation against her and the unhesitating action of the wary Kaye in
travelling direct to Berlin.
If there was any man in Europe who could clear up a mystery it was the
indefatigable chief of the British secret service. He lived in Paris
ostensibly as an English lawyer, with offices in the Boulevard des
Italiens, next the Cafe Americain. Hence his sudden journeys hither and
thither were believed to be undertaken in the interests of various
clients. But although he had an Irish solicitor, O'Brien by name, to
attend to the inquiries of any chance clients, the amount of legal
business carried on in those offices was really nil. The place was, in
fact, the headquarters of the British secret service on the Continent.
"I, too, was in England a year ago," she said. "We were invited to a
house-party up in Scotland. Mother was bored, but I had great fun. An
English home seems somehow so much jollier than the houses where one
visits in any other country. You know how I love the English!"
"Is that meant as a compliment?" I laughed.
"Of course," she answered. "But English diplomatists are just as grave
as those of any other nation. Your people are always full of all sorts
of horrid secrets and things."
She referred to the old days in Brussels, for she knew well the
difficulties under which our diplomacy had been conducted there, owing
to the eternal questions involving Egypt and the Congo.
But I laughed lightly. I did not intend that she should suspect the
real motive of my call. Evidently she knew nothing of my love for Edith
Austin, or she would have referred to it. Fortunately I had been able
to keep it a secret from all.
"And you are actually leaving us in a week?"
I observed, for want of something else to say. "I hear that Marienbad
is crowded this season."
"We are going to visit my uncle, Prince Stolberg, who has a villa
there."
Then I asked her of our mutual friends in Brussels, and she in return
retailed to me all the latest gossip concerning them. As she sat there
in the subdued light, her white dress, relieved by a touch of turquoise
at the wrists and waist, she presented a picture graceful, delicate, and
altogether charming. I reasoned with myself as she went on chattering.
No; it was not surprising that I had once fallen in love with her. She
was more French than Belgian, for the days of her girlhood had been
passed mostly in France; her Christian name was French, and in manner
she possessed all that smartness and chic peculiar to the Parisienne.
Mentally I compared her with Edith, but next instant laughed within
myself. Such comparison was impossible. Their styles were as different
as were their nationalities. Beside Edith, my well-beloved, the beauty
of this fair-haired, gesticulating girl paled entirely, and became
insipid. The Englishwoman who held me beneath the spell of her soft and
truthful eyes was without a peer.
Still, Yolande amused me with her chatter. The reader will forgive me
this admission, for in calling there I was only acting a part. I was
endeavouring in the interests of my country to find out whether there
was any truth in the allegation recently made against her by my friend.
Of a sudden a thought crossed my mind, and I asked:
"Have you met many acquaintances since you've been in Paris?"
"Only Hartmann and some of the people at the Legation," she responded.
"We are just going to five o'clock with the Princess Olsoufieff this
afternoon."
"There is an old friend of yours just arrived," I said. "Have you met
him?"
"An old friend?" she echoed in surprise. "Man or woman?"
"A man," I answered. "Rodolphe Wolf."
"Rodolphe Wolf!" she gasped, starting up, the colour dying from her lips
in an instant. "Rodolphe Wolf in Paris--impossible!"
"He was at the Baroness de Chalencon's last night," I said quite calmly,
watching her face the while.
Her sudden fear and surprise made plain a fact of which I had not before
been aware--namely, that there was something more than a casual link
between them. Years ago, when in Brussels, I had suspected Wolf of
being a secret agent, and the fact that she was closely acquainted with
him appeared to prove that my Chiefs suspicion was not unfounded.
She had risen. Her hands were trembling, and although she strove
desperately to betray to me no outward sign of agitation, she was
compelled to support herself by clutching the small table at her side.
Her countenance was blanched to the lips. She presented the appearance
of one haunted by some terrible dread.
"Wolf!" she gasped again, as though speaking to herself. Then, turning
to me, she stretched forth both her hands, and, looking earnestly into
my eyes, cried in wild desperation: "Gerald, save me! For the sake of
our love of the old days, save me!"
"From what?" I cried, jumping up and catching her by both hands. "Tell
me, Yolande. If I can assist you I certainly will. Why are you so
distressed?"
She was silent, with one trembling hand pressed upon her heart, as
though to stay its wild, tumultuous beating.
"No," she said in a hoarse whisper, "it is useless--all useless."
"But if you are in distress I can surely help you," I said.
"Alas! you cannot," she answered in despair. "You do not know--you
cannot understand."
"Why not tell me? Confide in me," I urged.
"No," she replied. "I am very foolish--forgive me;" and she tried to
smile.
"The news that Wolf is here has upset you," I said. "Why?"
"He has escaped."
"From where?"
"From prison."
I was silent. I knew not what to say. This declaration of hers was
strange. It was startling news to me that Rodolphe Wolf had been in
prison.
"You have asked me to save you," I said, reverting to her wild
supplication. "I will do so willingly if you only tell me how."
"It is impossible," she said in a broken voice, shaking her head
mournfully. "By what you have told me I am forewarned."
A deep sigh escaped her, and I saw that her fingers worked restlessly in
the palms of her hands. She was desperate.
"Can I do absolutely nothing?" I asked in a tone of sympathy, placing
my hand tenderly upon her shoulder.
"Nothing," she answered in a hoarse whisper. "I am not fit to talk
further. Let us say good-bye."
"Then you prefer that I should leave you?"
"Yes," she said, holding out her hand. "Forgive me for this, but I want
to go to my own room to think. What you have told me has upset me."
"Tell me plainly--you fear that man?"
She nodded in the affirmative.
"And you will not allow me either to advise or to assist you?"
"No," she said hoarsely. "Go, Gerald. Leave me! When we meet again I
shall be calmer than I am now."
Her face was deathly pale; her eyes had a distinct look of terror in
them.
"Very well," I answered when again she had urged me to leave her; "if
you insist, I will go. But remember that if I can be of service,
Yolande, I am ready at once to render you assistance. Good-bye," and I
pressed her hand in sympathy.
She burst into tears.
"Farewell," she faltered.
Then I turned, and, bowing, went forth into the glaring sunshine of the
boulevard.
She had virtually admitted a close acquaintance with a man upon whom
distinct suspicion rested, and her actions had been those of a guilty
woman. My thoughts were full of that interview and its painful ending
as I walked back towards the Embassy.