LOUIS INSISTS
I arrived at the Ritz to find Louis walking impatiently up and down
the stone-flagged pavement outside the entrance. He came up to me
eagerly as I approached.
"I have been waiting for you for more than an hour!" he exclaimed.
I looked at him in some surprise. I had not yet grown accustomed to
hear him speak in such a tone.
"Did I say that I was coming straight back?" I asked.
"Of course not," he answered. "After you left, though, I had some
trouble with Monsieur Grisson. There is a chance that we may have to
move Tapilow to a hospital, and he is just one of those fools who
talk. Monsieur Grisson insists upon it that you leave Paris by the
four o'clock train this afternoon."
I shook my head.
"I could not catch it," I declared. "It is half-past three now."
"On the other hand, you can and you must," Louis answered. "I took the
liberty of telephoning in your name and ordering the valet to pack
your clothes. Your luggage is in the hall there, and that automobile
is waiting to take you to the Gare du Nord."
I opened my mouth to protest, but Louis' manner underwent a further
change.
"Captain Rotherby," he said, "it is I and my friends who save you,
perhaps, from a considerable inconvenience. Forgive me if I remind you
of this, but it is not fitting that you should argue with us on this
matter."
Louis was right. For more reasons than he knew of, it was well that I
should leave Paris.
"Are you coming with me?" I asked.
"I am crossing by the night boat," Louis answered. "I have not quite
finished the work for which I came over. I have some things to buy."
I smiled.
"Upon my word," I said, "I had forgotten your profession."
I went back into the hotel and paid my bill. Louis drove with me to
the station and saw to the registration of my luggage. Afterwards he
found my reserved seat, in which I arranged my rug and books. Then I
turned and walked down the corridor with him.
"I trust," he said, "that monsieur will have a pleasant journey and
pleasant companions."
I glanced into the _coupe_ which we were just passing. It seemed
curious that even as the wish left his lips I should find myself
looking into the dark eyes of the girl whose face had been so often in
my thoughts during the last few days! Opposite her was the
gray-bearded man Delora, already apparently immersed in a
novel. Every seat in the compartment was laden with their small
belongings,--dressing-bags, pillows, a large jewel-case, books,
papers, flowers, and a box of chocolates. I turned to Louis.
"Again," I remarked, "we meet friends. What a small place the world
is!"
We stepped down on to the platform. Louis, for some reason, seemed
slightly nervous. He glanced up at the clock and watched the few late
arrivals with an interest which was almost intense.
"Monsieur," he said, a little abruptly, "there is a question which I
should like to ask you before you leave."
"There are a good many I should like to ask you, Louis," I answered,
"but they will keep. Go ahead."
"I should like to know," Louis said, "where you spent the hour which
passed between your leaving the Cafe Normandy and arriving at the
Ritz."
I hesitated for a moment. After all, I had no reason to keep my
movements secret. It was better, indeed, to avoid complications so far
as possible.
"You shall know if you like, Louis," I said. "I kept my appointment
with the young lady of the turquoises."
Louis' pale face seemed suddenly strained.
"It was my fault!" he muttered. "I should not have left you! You do
not understand how those affairs are here in Paris! If Bartot knew--"
"Bartot did know," I interrupted.
Louis' face was a study.
"Bartot came in while I was talking to mademoiselle," I said.
"There was a scene?" Louis inquired breathlessly. "Bartot threatened
monsieur? Perhaps there were blows?"
"Nothing of the sort," I answered. "Bartot blustered a little and
mademoiselle wrung her hands, but they played their parts badly.
Between you and me, Louis, I have a sort of an idea that Bartot's
coming was not altogether accidental."
"It was a trap," Louis murmured softly. "But why?"
I shook my head.
"Louis," I said, "I am the wrong sort of man to be even a temporary
dweller in this nest of intrigue. I do not understand it at all. I do
not understand any of you. I only know that I owe you and those other
gentlemen a very considerable debt, and I have been solemnly warned
against you by the young lady whom I met at the Cafe de Paris. I have
been assured that association with you is the first step toward my
undoing. Monsieur Bartot, for all his bluster, seemed very anxious to
be friendly."
"It was the girl!" Louis exclaimed. "Bartot was too big a fool to
understand!"
I sighed.
"I fear that I am in the same position as Monsieur Bartot," I said. "I
do not understand!"
There was a warning cry. I had only just time to swing myself on to
the slowly moving train. Louis ran for a moment by the side.
"Those people are harmless," he said. "They merely wished, if they
could, to make use of you. Mademoiselle has tied other fools to her
chariot wheels before now, that Bartot may grow fat. But, monsieur!"
I leaned over to catch his words.
"If Monsieur or Mademoiselle Delora should address you," he said, "you
need have no fear. They are not of the same order as Bartot and
Susette."
"I will remember," I answered, waving my farewells.
I regained my compartment, which I was annoyed to find had filled up
till mine was the only vacant seat. I had not had time to buy any
papers or magazines, but, after all, I had enough to interest me in my
thoughts. Of Tapilow I scarcely thought at all. He and I had met, and
I had kept my oath. So far as I was concerned, that was the end. I had
not even any fears for my own safety as regards this matter. My
interview with Decresson and his friend had had a curiously convincing
effect upon me. I felt that I had been tried for my crime, and
acquitted, in the most orthodox fashion. For me the curtain had fallen
upon that tragedy. It was the other things which occupied my mind. I
seemed to have found my way into a maze, to have become mixed up in
certain affairs in a most mysterious and inexplicable way. What was
the meaning of that place to which Louis had introduced me? Was it
some sort of secret organization,--an organization which assumed to
itself, at any rate, the power to circumvent the police? And Bartot,
too! Had he really the power which Louis had declared him to possess?
If so, why had he baited a clumsy trap for me and permitted me to walk
out of it untouched? What did they want from me, these people? The
thought was utterly confusing. I could find absolutely no
explanation. Then, again, another puzzle remained. I remembered Louis'
desire, almost command, that I should return to London by this
particular train. Had he any reason for it? Was it connected in any
way, I wondered, with the presence of this man and girl in the next
compartment? It seemed feasible, even if inexplicable.
I rose and strolled down the corridor, looking in at the _coupe_
where these two people sat, with all the banal impertinence of the
curious traveller. The girl met my eyes once and afterwards simply
ignored me. The man never looked up from his magazine. I passed and
repassed three or four times. The effect was always the same. At last
I resumed my seat. At any rate, they showed no pressing desire to make
my acquaintance!
At Boulogne I descended at once into the saloon and made a hasty
meal. When I came up on deck in the harbor I found that the chair
which I had engaged was lashed close to the open door of a private
cabin, and in the door of that cabin, standing within a few feet of
me, was the niece of Monsieur Delora. I racked my brains for something
to say. She gave me no encouragement whatever. At last I descended to
a banality.
"We shall have rather a rough crossing, I am afraid," I said, touching
my cap.
She looked at me as though surprised that I should have ventured to
address her. She did not take the trouble to be annoyed. She answered
me, indeed, with civility, but in a manner which certainly did not
encourage me to attempt any further conversation. There was a moment's
pause. Then she turned away and spoke to some one behind her in the
cabin. A moment or two later the door was closed and I was left
alone. After that it seemed ridiculous to imagine that there was any
special significance to be attached to the fact that we were fellow
passengers.
The crossing was a rough one, and I saw nothing more of either Delora
or the girl. I had very little hand baggage, and I was one of the
first to reach the train, where I made myself comfortable in the
corner seat of a carriage towards the rear end. The inspector, whom I
knew very well, locked my door, and until the last moment it seemed as
though I should have the compartment to myself. The train, indeed, was
on the point of starting, and I had almost given up looking out for my
fellow passengers when they came hurrying up along the platform. I saw
them glancing into the windows of every carriage in the hope of
finding a seat. Two porters carried their small baggage. An
obsequious guard followed in the rear. Just as they were opposite to
the carriage in which I was sitting the whistle blew.
"Plenty of room higher up!" the inspector exclaimed. "Take your
seats, please."
"We will get in here," the girl answered,--"that is to say, unless it
is a reserved carriage. Please to open the door at once."
The inspector hesitated, remembering the tip which I had given him,
but he had no alternative. The guard produced his key and opened the
door. It was not until that moment that the girl recognized me. She
stepped back, and the look which she threw in my direction was
certainly not flattering.
"Can you find us another carriage?" she asked the guard, imperiously.
"Quite impossible, miss," the man answered. "You must get in here or
be left behind."
They had barely time to take their seats. As my place was next to the
window, I felt bound to help the porter hand in the small packages.
The man Delora, who was wrapped up in a fur coat, and who looked
ghastly ill, thanked me courteously enough, but the girl ignored my
assistance. They took the two corner seats at the further end of the
carriage. Delora immediately composed himself to sleep.
"It was a wretched crossing!" he said to the girl,--"the most
miserable crossing I have ever had! And these trains,--so small, so
uncomfortable!"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"When one travels," she said, "I suppose that one must put up with
inconveniences of all sorts."
I knew very well that the last part of her sentence not only had
reference to me, but was intended for my hearing. I affected,
however, to be absorbed in the magazine which I was reading, and under
cover of which I was able to make a close observation of the man, who
was sitting on the same side as myself. He had put up his feet and
closed his eyes, but he had evidently suffered badly from sea-sickness,
for his face remained almost deathly white, and he shivered now and
then as though with cold. He had lost the well-groomed air which had
distinguished him in Paris. His features were haggard and worn, and he
looked at least ten years older. His clothes were excellently made,
and the fur coat which he had wrapped around himself was
magnificent. For the rest, he seemed tired out--a man utterly wearied
of life. Before we had reached the town station he was asleep.
The train rushed on into the darkness, and after a time I ventured to
glance toward the girl. She, too, was leaning back in her place, but
her face was turned a little away from me towards the window, through
which she was gazing with the obvious intentness of one whose thoughts
are far away. I had all my life been used to observing closely people
of either sex who interested me, and I found now, as I had found
during those various accidental meetings in Paris, that the study of
this young woman afforded me a peculiar pleasure. Apart from her more
personal fascination, she was faultlessly dressed. She wore a black
tailor-made suit, perhaps a little shorter than is usual for
travelling in England, patent shoes,--long and narrow,--and black silk
stockings. Her hat was a small toque, and her veil one of those for
which Frenchwomen are famous,--very large, but not in the least
disfiguring. This, however, she had raised for the present, and I was
able to study the firm but fine profile of her features, to notice the
delicacy of her chin, her small, well-shaped ears, her eyebrows--black
and silky. Her eyes themselves were hidden from me, but their color
had been the first thing which had attracted me. They were of a blue
so deep that sometimes they seemed as black as her eyebrows
themselves. It was only when she smiled or came into a strong light
that they seemed suddenly to flash almost to violet. Her figure was
slim--she was, indeed, little more than a girl--but very shapely and
elegant. She could scarcely be called tall, but there was something
in her carriage which seemed to exaggerate her height. The very poise
of her head indicated a somewhat contemptuous indifference to the
people amongst whom she moved.
I had kept my scrutiny under control, prepared for any sudden movement
on the part of the girl; but after all she was too quick for me. She
turned from the window with a perfectly natural movement, and yet so
swiftly that our eyes met before I could look away. She leaned a
little forward in her place, and her forehead darkened.
"Perhaps, sir," she said, "you will be good enough to tell me the
meaning of your persistent impertinence?"