Kasia did not see the Prince again. That ingenuous young man had spent a most uncomfortable half hour with the doughty Admiral, whose language had been both lucid and emphatic, and who had opened the discussion, and spiked the Prince's guns at the very start, as it were, by producing the paper sealed with the Imperial seal.
"I would call your attention especially to this clause," said Pachmann, and placed his finger upon the words, "all members of my family." "It was not placed there by accident, I assure you. You understand its meaning?"
The Prince nodded sullenly, as he handed the paper back.
"Your father," Pachmann continued, replacing it in his pocket, "foresaw that some difficulty such as this might arise. As you know, his confidence in you is not great."
The Prince flushed and opened his lips angrily; but closed them again without speaking.
Pachmann smiled unpleasantly.
"I can guess what you wish to say," he said."You would remind me that you are a Hohenzollern, a Prince of the blood, a scion of the house to which I, a petty member of the inferior nobility, owe allegiance. That I do not permit myself to forget. But in this affair, by virtue of this paper, I stand in place of your royal father. He would not hesitate to rebuke you, and neither shall I. What was it you were saying to Miss Vard?"
And the Prince, after a moment's inward struggle, repeated the conversation, while Pachmann listened frowningly.
"You have been most indiscreet," he said severely, when the Prince had finished. "How much harm you have done I cannot say—but I must hasten to undo it. I do not understand you. You know how important this affair is—you are a good German!—and yet you go about talking in this fashion! It is enough to drive one mad! If your father learned of it, I fear he would think it necessary to punish you with great severity. I shall not report it—but on one condition: you must give me your word to discuss affairs of state with no one, to make no chance acquaintances, and to see this girl or her father only in my presence."
And so deeply grounded was the habit of obedience, so profound his respect even for his father's signature, that the Prince promised. Besides, he had no wish to spend a year or more in somesecond-rate fortress; and he resolved to watch himself most warily, until this annoying business was at an end and he was back again in Berlin.
So Kasia saw him no more. She had a little struggle with herself before she finally decided that it was her duty to outline the Prince's confessions to her father, and she was deeply relieved when he waved them aside as of no importance.
"Every one knows," he said, "that Germany dreams of nothing but humiliating England; that is no secret—it has been the talk of Europe for ten years past. But it is one of those dreams which never come true—or go by contraries!"
By noon of Monday, Pachmann had completed his scrutiny of the passengers, and sought an interview with the Captain.
"I have discovered nothing," he said; "absolutely nothing. At one time, I thought that I had the man, but I caused his story to be investigated, and found that it was true. There remains only one thing to be done. At what hour shall we land?"
"That will depend upon the delay at quarantine. Two of our steerage passengers are ill. We may not be able to dock before evening."
Pachmann considered this for a moment.
"In the first place," he went on, at last, following out his thought, "you must secure for me twolanding-tickets—one for Vard and one for his daughter. The immigration officers must not see them. There must be no evidence that they ever reached New York."
Hausmann's face clouded.
"That is a very serious offence," he pointed out.
"We must take the risk."
"What will you do about their baggage?"
"I will have it claimed by some one from the consulate."
The Captain hesitated yet a moment.
"I will secure the tickets," he agreed, finally. "A considerable outlay will be necessary."
"You will be reimbursed. Furthermore," Pachmann added, "I will myself explain to the Emperor how greatly you have assisted us."
Hausmann bowed coldly.
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
"You have watched the wireless?"
"Yes."
"It must be watched even more closely. No message in cipher, nor any that is at all questionable, must be sent or delivered. If there are complaints afterwards, the failure can be explained as an oversight."
Again Hausmann bowed.
"And finally," said Pachmann, "I have here a message, which I would ask you to have sent at once."
It was in cipher and a long one, and it took half an hour to transmit, for the wireless man at the Cape Cod station was required to repeat it for verification. Then it was hurried on by telegraph to New York, and finally delivered at the German consulate, where the chief of the German secret service, to whom it was addressed, read it with great care.
Miss Vard, meanwhile, was finding the hours long. The Prince had furnished a slight divertissement the day before; but to-day there was no such relief in sight, and she found herself singularly restless. This was, in part, a reflection of her father's mood, for she had never known him so nervous and irritable. The lines in his face had deepened, his eyes were brighter than ever, and he waved her impatiently away whenever she ventured to address him. Plainly, a crisis was at hand, and, as she saw how her father was affected, she awaited it with foreboding.
She tried to read and gave it up, for she could not fix her attention on the page; she sat for a long time looking at the sea, and then turned her eyes away, for its restlessness increased her own; she went for a walk about the deck, but it seemed to her in every pair of eyes turned upon her there was suspicion and aversion. How glad she was that the voyage was almost ended! It had started happily enough, andthen, quite suddenly, it had become wearisome and hateful.
It was inevitable that, at this point, her thoughts should fly to Dan. What a nice boy he was! She would see him to-morrow night—she had promised him that! And before that? Would it be too undignified for her to steal up again to that bench on the after boat-deck—would it—would it precipitate matters? She did not want to do that and yet....
"Good afternoon," said a voice, and some one fell into step beside her, and she looked up and saw that it was Dan. For an instant, she fancied it was only the visualisation of her own thoughts; then she winked the mists away.
"This is nice of you," she said. "I was just wishing for—some one. I was dreadfully bored."
"You were a thousand miles away. I passed you twice and you didn't even see me. If it hadn't been for my newspaper training, I'd have made off to my den."
"I'm very glad you didn't. I really wanted to talk to you."
"Suppose we go up to the boat-deck," said Dan, "where you...."
He stopped.
"Where I what?"
Dan led the way up the ladder without replying;but a gleam of understanding penetrated Miss Vard's mind when she saw him go straight to the bench where she and the Prince had sat.
"It was this way," Dan explained, sitting down beside her. "I happened to be staring down at the forward promenade, yesterday afternoon, when I saw you walking with a tall young fellow, who seemed exceedingly interested in you. Naturally, I was a little curious, as he happened to be a second-class passenger like myself...."
"Second-class!" broke in Kasia, and stopped herself.
"Did you think him a millionaire?" queried Dan, a little bitterly.
"No," answered Kasia, quietly; "I thought him just what he is—an ingenuous young German, not very brilliant, perhaps, but clean and honest. I passed a very pleasant half hour with him."
Dan's face was a little pale, but he looked at her manfully and squared his shoulders.
"I deserved that!" he said. "Thank you, Miss Vard. But itwasvery lonely, last night!"
Kasia's look softened.
"Yes," she agreed; "it was."
"You felt it, too?" asked Dan, his face lighting up again.
"Certainly I felt it. I haven't dared make any friends among the first-class passengers, and aperson can't readallthe time! One likes to talk occasionally, no matter with whom."
"Why not slip over to second-class to-night," Dan suggested, "and sit on the bench. The moon is very beautiful."
But Kasia shook her head, smiling.
"I shall have to admire it alone," she said. "We must not be seen so much together—it is not wise for us to sit here. Suppose some one, seeing us together, should take it into his mind to search your baggage, and should find that little package...."
"He wouldn't find it," Dan broke in. "During the day, I carry it in my pocket. At night, I sleep with it under my pillow."
Kasia gave him a quick glance.
"That is splendid!" she said, quickly. "And you don't even wish to know what it is?"
"Not unless you wish to tell me. There is one danger, though. If the customs inspector should happen to run across it, he will want to know what it is."
"Tell him it is an electrical device."
"And if he opens it?"
"That will do no harm. All he will find is a small metal box, filled with tiny wires coiled about each other."
Dan breathed more freely.
"That simplifies things," he said. "From whatyou said when you gave it to me, I was afraid I might have to knock him down, snatch the package, and make a break for it."
"No," and Kasia smiled. "It would appear of value only to some one who knew what it was. The customs inspector doesn't count."
"And to-morrow evening, say at eight o'clock, I shall bring it up to you."
"Very well. I shall expect you. And now you must go."
Dan rose obediently.
"It will be a long twenty-four hours," he said. "But I feel more cheerful than I did. By the way," he added, turning back, "there's one thing I forgot to tell you. If that other young fellow shows up again, you needn't be afraid to talk to him. Chevrial says he's about the only one on the ship you are safe to talk freely with!"
"Chevrial!" she repeated, staring; "Chevrial said that!"
"Yes," and Dan laughed. "He seems to be the wise guy, all right!" and without suspecting her emotion, he turned and left her. But for a long time Kasia sat there, unmoving, trying to understand.
Dan's evening was not so lonely as he had expected, for, as he sat on the bench on the boat-deck,staring out across the water and thinking of the morrow, Chevrial joined him.
"I do not intrude?" the Frenchman asked.
"Not at all. Sit down, won't you?"
Chevrial sat down, and for some moments there was silence.
"Our voyage nears an end, M. Webster," Chevrial said at last. "To-morrow you will be home again. Perhaps I may see you in New York."
"Where will you stay?"
"I have some friends in the wine-trade with whom I usually stay. The little money I pay them is welcome to them, and I am more comfortable than at an hotel. I do not know their exact address—they have moved since I was last here; but they are to meet me at the pier."
"Whenever you have a leisure evening," said Dan, "call up theRecordoffice and ask for me, and we will have dinner together."
"Thank you. I shall remember. And I should like you to meet my friends. I do not know if you are a connoisseur of wine, but if you are, they possess a few bottles of a vintage that will delight you."
"I'm far from being a connoisseur," Dan laughed; "but I accept the invitation with thanks."
Chevrial's face was bright.
"And when next you come to Paris," he added, "I hope you will let me know. There is my card.A letter to that address will always reach me—we have no telephone, alas! There are some things I should delight to show you—things which the average visitor does not see."
"You are very kind," said Dan, taking the card; "and I shall not forget; though I don't expect to get abroad again very soon. You see, I have to collect a reserve fund, first; and the cost of living is high!"
"Whenever it is; and the more soon, the better I shall be pleased."
"How long will you be in New York?"
"A week—ten days, perhaps. Then I go to Boston, and to Montreal and Quebec, and thence home again. I am glad I shall not have to use a German boat. I do not like German boats—nor anything German, for the matter of that! Which reminds me of a most peculiar circumstance. You may have wondered at my remark with reference to that young man who was strolling with Miss Vard?"
"That she could talk to him without fear? Yes, I have wondered just what you meant by it."
"I may be mistaken—but I should like your judgment. In the library, among the other books, is one which describes the life of the Kaiser and his family—it is put there, I suppose, for all good Germans to read. It is illustrated by many photographs.In looking at the photographs, one of them impressed me as curiously familiar; if I should happen to be correct, it would make a most startling article for your newspaper. But I wish you to judge for yourself. You will find the book lying on the table in the library, and the photograph in question is on page sixty-eight. If you will look at it, and then return here, I should consider it a favour."
Considerably astonished, Dan descended to the library, found the book, and turned to page sixty-eight. Yes, there was a photograph of the Emperor, with the Empress and Princess Victoria; another of the Crown Prince, with his wife and children; another of the Princes—Eitel-Frederick, August, Oscar, Adalbert....
And Dan, looking at it, felt his eyeballs bulge, for he found himself gazing at the face of Kasia Vard's companion.
He told himself he was mistaken; closed his eyes for an instant and then looked again. There was certainly a marvellous resemblance. If it should really be the same—Dan's head whirled at thought of the story it would make!
He closed the book, at last, climbed slowly back to the boat-deck and sat down again beside M. Chevrial.
"Well?" asked the latter. "What do you think of it?"
"If they are not the same man, they are remarkably alike," said Dan.
"I believe they are the same."
"But it seems too grotesque. Why should a Hohenzollern travel second-class, dressed in a shabby walking-suit, and without attendants?"
"There is a middle-aged German with him, who is, no doubt, his tutor, or guardian, or jailer—whichever you may please to call it."
"His jailer?"
Chevrial smiled.
"The Emperor is a father of the old school, and punishes his sons occasionally by imprisonment or banishment under guard. I fancy that is the case here. Before I left Paris, I heard rumours of indiscretions on the Prince's part with a young lady in Berlin, which had made his father very angry. This journey, perhaps, is a penance. At least, it is worth investigating."
"It certainly is," agreed Dan warmly, and fell silent, pondering how best to prove or disprove this extraordinary story. It was decidedly of the sort theRecordliked; if he could only verify it, his return to the office would be in the nature of a triumph! But to prove it! Well, there were ways!
A low exclamation from his companion brought him out of his thoughts.
"Behold!" said Chevrial; and, far away to the right, Dan caught the gleam of a light.
"A ship?" he asked.
"No, no; it is the lighthouse on what you call the Island of Fire. It is America welcoming you, my friend."
And Dan, with a queer lump in his throat, took off his cap.
"America!" he repeated, and Kasia Vard's words leaped into his mind. "The land of freedom!"
"Yes," agreed his companion, softly; "you do well to be proud of her! She is at least more free than any other!"
When Dan Webster awoke, next morning, his first thought was that something was wrong, and it was a moment before he realised what it was. The screw had stopped. Instead of quivering with the steady, pulse-like vibration to which, during the past week, he had grown accustomed, the ship lay dead and motionless. He got on deck as quickly as he could, and found that they were anchored in the shelter of Sandy Hook, with a boat from quarantine alongside. Already the deck was thronged with excited passengers; many of the women, in their eagerness to go ashore, had put on their hats and veils and even their gloves. But word got about that there was some sickness in the steerage, and that it would probably be some hours before they could proceed.
Dan took a long look at the familiar land; then he hurried below to breakfast. He had planned his campaign before he went to sleep the previous night, and he was eager to begin it. Breakfast, therefore, did not take him long, and he was soon searching the decks for the man who, possibly, wasa son of the Kaiser, but, much more probably, merely a young German who made the most of a chance resemblance.
Dan possessed the aplomb which only years of work on a great paper can give a man; he had wormed interviews from many reluctant and exalted personages; he had asked questions which the other man was certain to resent, often quite justly; he had drilled himself to believe that, when he was on the trail, all mankind was fair game, and that any device which would drag the truth from them was justified—the truth, the truth, that was the end and the justification of newspaper methods! Nevertheless, his heart beat a little faster when, at last, he perceived the object of his search leaning against the rail at the rear of the upper promenade and gazing out to sea.
"I've got buck-fever," he told himself. "It's because I'm out of training." And then he wondered if the Prince was thinking of Germany, and of the lady-love from whom he had been torn.
Nobody else, apparently, had any thought for Germany or for the open sea. Every one had crowded to the side-rails to stare at the land or at the smudge of smoke which marked Long Island, and the stern of the ship was deserted. Telling himself that he would never have a better chance, and that he must finish with the affair before theship-reporters came aboard, Dan braced himself, approached the solitary and somewhat pathetic figure, removed his cap and bowed respectfully. The Prince, abruptly wakened from his day-dreams, looked up with a start, and met Dan's smiling eyes with an astonished stare.
"I see Your Highness does not remember me," said Dan, good-humouredly. "That is not remarkable, but I was conceited enough to think it just possible that you might."
"No," said the Prince, finding his tongue, "I fear I do not...." He stopped abruptly. "For whom do you take me?" he demanded.
"Surely I am not mistaken!" and Dan looked at him more closely. "No—it is really Your Highness! I cannot be deceived!"
The Prince met his gaze and shook his head, and tried to laugh. But he was not a good liar—his father had long since recognised his unfitness for any diplomatic mission.
"I see it is useless for me to dissemble," he said, in a low tone. "But I am here strictly incognito, and I beg that you will not betray me. Where have we met?"
Dan's heart leaped with exultation. And then a little feeling of shame seized him. It was too bad to have to betray the fellow—but duty demanded it! Perhaps, however, it could be done in a waythat would not be offensive. He opened his lips to explain, when a stocky figure suddenly thrust itself between them, and Dan found himself gazing into a pair of irate eyes.
"What is this?" demanded the newcomer, though his voice, too, was carefully lowered. "Who are you, sir?"
Dan felt his good resolutions ooze away at the other's brutal manner.
"I am a reporter," he said.
"What is your business?"
"Gathering news."
"Your business here, I mean?"
"I was just interviewing the Prince," explained Dan, blandly. "TheRecordwould be very glad to have his opinion of the Moroccan situation, of the Italian war, of the triple entente, or of anything else he cares to talk about. Perhaps he could find a theme in the destruction ofLa Liberté."
He spoke at random, and was surprised to see how fixedly the other man regarded him, with eyes in which apprehension seemed to have taken the place of anger.
"One moment," said Pachmann, for it was he, and he turned and spoke a few rapid words of German to the Prince, who reddened and nodded sullenly. Dan judged from the sound of the Admiral's subsequent remarks that he was swearing; but hepreserved a pleasant countenance, the more easily since, happening to glance up, he saw Chevrial leaning over the rail of the boat-deck just above them and regarding the scene with an amused smile. At last, having relieved his feelings, the Admiral fell silent and pulled absently at the place where his moustache had been.
"When does your paper appear?" Pachmann asked, at last.
"To-morrow morning."
"You would not wish to use the interview before that time?"
"No."
Pachmann breathed a sigh of relief, and his face cleared.
"Then we are prepared to make a bargain with you," he said. "It is most important that the Prince's incognito be strictly preserved until to-night. If you will give me your word of honour to say nothing of this to any one until eight o'clock this evening, I, in return, give you my word of honour that the Prince, at that hour, will grant you an interview which I am sure you will find of interest. Do you agree?"
Dan reflected rapidly that he had nothing to lose by such an agreement; that eight o'clock would release him from his promise in ample time to writehis story; and the interviewmightreally be important.
"Yes," he said; "I agree; but on one condition."
"What is that?" demanded Pachmann, impatiently.
"That the interview be exclusive."
"Exclusive?" echoed Pachmann. "I do not understand."
"I mean by that that no one else is to get the interview but me," Dan explained.
A sardonic smile flitted across Pachmann's lips.
"I agree to the condition," he said. "And you on your part agree to say no word to any one; you are not to mention the appointment which I will make with you."
"I understand," said Dan. "But, interview or no interview, I am to be released from the promise at eight o'clock."
"Yes. Very well, then. I accept your word of honour, and I give you mine. At seven o'clock to-night, you will call at the German consulate and ask for Admiral Pachmann. I shall be in waiting to conduct you to the Prince."
"I thank you," said Dan, and walked away, treading on air. Then another consideration occurred to him. All this was going to interfere with his evening with Kasia. He must see her and explain thathe would be late. But an official stopped him at the gangway and explained that, under quarantine regulations, each class must keep to its own quarters until the boat had docked.
The delay was less than had been feared, for the illness in the steerage turned out to be well-defined typhoid; so, at the end of two hours, the big ship began to move slowly up the harbour, with the passengers hanging over the rails, for the first glimpse of the great city. There was the green shore of Long Island; and then the hills of Staten Island; and then, there to the left, loomed the Statue of Liberty, her torch held high. Dan took off his cap, his eyes moist; and then, as he glanced at the faces of his neighbours, he saw that they were all gazing raptly at the majestic figure, just as he had been. Most of them, no doubt, had seen it many times before; some of them, perhaps, had committed the sacrilege of climbing up into the head and scribbling their names there; they had glanced at her carelessly enough outward-bound for Europe; but now she had for all of them new meaning,—she typified the spirit of their Fatherland, she welcomed them home.
And finally the wonderful skyline of New York towered far ahead, the web-like structure of the Brooklyn bridge spanning the river to the right; little clouds of steam crowning with white thesummits of the towering buildings, and a million windows flashing back the sunlight. There is nothing else in the whole world like it, and the thousand passengers on the upper decks coming home, and the thousand men and women crowded on the lower deck, seeking fortune in a strange land—all alike gazed and marvelled and were glad.
Then, with a battalion of tugs pushing and pulling and straining and panting, the ship swung in toward her dock, and soon she was near enough for those on board to see the faces of the waiting crowd, and there were cries of greeting and wavings of handkerchiefs, and the shedding of happy tears—for it is good to get home! And at last the great hawsers were flung out and made fast, and the voyage was ended.
At this moment, as at all others, the first-cabin passengers had the precedence, and filed slowly down one gangplank, their landing-tickets in their hands, while at another the stewards proceeded to yank off the hand-baggage. Dan, leaning over the rail, watched the long line of passengers surging slowly forward, and finally he saw Kasia and her father. He would see them on the pier, of course, for it would take them some time to get their baggage through, and he could explain to Kasia about the other engagement. He followed them with his eyes—and then, with a gasp of astonishment, heperceived just behind them, also moving slowly down the gangplank, the Prince and the man who had called himself Admiral Pachmann.
But those men could have nothing to do with Kasia! It was just an accident that they happened to be behind her. And then he grasped the rail and strained forward, scarcely able to believe his eyes. For Pachmann had spoken to Vard, who nodded and walked hurriedly on with him, while Kasia, with a mocking smile, tucked her hand within the Prince's arm and fell into step beside him. Along the pier they hastened to the entrance gates, passed through, and were lost in the crowd outside.
Dan stood staring after them for yet a moment; then, with the careful step of a man who knows himself to be intoxicated, he climbed painfully to the boat-deck, dropped upon a bench there, and took his head in his hands.
There, half an hour later, a steward found him.
"Beg pardon, sir," he said. "Are you ill?"
Dan looked up dazedly.
"No," he said. "Why?"
"The passengers are all off, sir. If you have any luggage, you'd better be having it examined, sir."
"Thank you," said Dan, and got to his feet, descended to the lower deck, surrendered his landing ticket, and went unsteadily down the gangplank.
The pier was littered with baggage and crowdedwith distracted men and women watching the inspectors diving remorselessly among their tenderest possessions. Each was absorbed in his own affairs, and none of them noticed Dan's slow progress toward the little office of the chief-inspector. After a short wait, an inspector was told off to look through his baggage, and, with Dan's declaration in his hand, led the way to the letter "W," where his two suit-cases were soon found. Dan unlocked them, and stood aside while the inspector knelt and examined their contents. He was through in ten minutes.
"Nothing here," he said, and rose. Then his eyes ran Dan up and down. "I see you have a small parcel in your coat-pocket. May I see it?"
Without a word, Dan handed him the parcel. The inspector turned it over and examined the seals.
"What's in it?" he asked.
"A little electrical device," Dan answered.
"Well, I'll have to open it—it might be diamonds, for all I know."
"Go ahead," said Dan, and the inspector broke the seals, unwrapped the paper, and disclosed a small pasteboard box. He lifted the lid, glanced inside, and then looked at Dan.
"What is this? A joke?" he demanded.
"I don't understand," Dan stammered.
"You said it was an electrical device."
"That's what it is."
"Either you're crazy or I am," said the man; "and I don't think it's me," and he thrust the box under Dan's nose.
And Dan's eyes nearly leaped from his head, for the box contained a cake of soap, cut neatly to fit it, into which had been pressed a number of nickel coins.
Dan Webster never had any definite recollection of how he got to his rooms. Somebody must have carried his bags to a cab and put them and him inside it, and he must have given the cabby the number of the apartment-house where his rooms were, for after a certain time he found himself in a cab which had stopped in front of it, with Marshall, the doorman, staring in at him.
"I think he's drunk, that's what I think," said the cabby, who had got down, suspecting that his services would be needed. "He ought to be put to bed and left to sleep it off."
"I don't understand it," said Marshall. "I never saw him like this before. Paris must surely be an awful place!"
The cabby chuckled, and together they got Dan out and into the elevator; but when the doorman had paid and dismissed the cabby, and tried to follow his advice, he met with unexpected resistance.
"Go away, Marshall, and leave me alone," said Dan. "I heard what that fellow said; but I'm not drunk—though no doubt I look it. Just go awayand shut the door. I'll thank you another time. There's a good fellow!"
And in the end, Marshall went doubtfully away.
Dan went to work at himself immediately with mechanical thoroughness. He filled his tub with cold water, undressed and plunged into it, dipping his head under half a dozen times. Then he rubbed down with the roughest towel he could find, gave himself a vigorous massage from head to feet, took a sharp turn with a pair of dumb-bells, got into fresh clothes, and began to feel more like himself.
"There," he said; "that's better. Now let's see if this thing is real, or only a nightmare."
He went to his coat, got out the pasteboard box, placed it on a table, sat down before it, and carefully removed the lid.
No, it was not a nightmare. There was the cake of soap—pink, scented soap—weighted with the nickel coins. Poising the box in his hand, he understood why the coins had been added. Without them, the box would have been too light. He pulled one of the coins out and looked at it. It was a German piece of twenty pfennigs, such as any one on the ship might have used. He put it carefully back, and lay down on his bed to reason the thing out.
How had the substitution been made? Howcouldit have been made? Every day the box had been in his pocket; every night it had been beneathhis pillow. There was only one explanation—the change must have been made while he was asleep. Some one had entered the stateroom, slipped out the other box with a cautious hand and substituted this one. Whoever it was must have been familiar with the weight of the other box and with the way it was wrapped and sealed. But how was that possible? No one could have seen Miss Vard give it to him; no one could have known that he had it.
And then Dan sat suddenly erect. Chevrial might have known. Chevrial might have seen him slip it into his pocket as he dressed. Yes, Chevrial might have done it. Who was Chevrial? How should a wine-merchant know so much about spies and diplomacy and German princes? There had always been about him an air of power, of reserve force. Yes, and an air of mystery—the air of one who knows a great many things he does not choose to tell.
Chevrial was undoubtedly a spy himself.
And, as he found this answer, Dan wondered that it had not occurred to him long before. For it furnished the clue upon which Chevrial's words and hints and looks and warnings were strung together as on a thread!
There could be no doubt about it: Chevrial was a spy, engaged in some desperate plot—no ordinary plot, for a Prince and Admiral of the GermanEmpire were also engaged in it, and heaven alone knew how many others!
There was one thing to be done at once. He must go to Kasia Vard and confess that he had been outwitted. And he trembled as he thought what the loss of that little box would mean to her! Why had he been so dense, why had he not suspected....
Telling himself that self-accusations would do no good, he finished dressing hurriedly, let himself out, and ran downstairs without waiting to call the elevator. At the front door he met Marshall, whose face brightened at sight of him.
"So you're all right again, sir?" he said. "I'm glad of that!"
"Yes," and Dan slipped a bill into his hand. "I had a little shock that sort of upset me. Many thanks for looking after me, Marshall. I'll not forget it."
"That's all right, sir. Thank you, sir. Hope you had a good time?"
"Splendid. Come up and see me to-morrow. I brought a little memento for you from that awful place called Paris!" and leaving Marshall staring, he ran down the steps to the street, sought the nearest subway station, and twenty minutes later mounted the steps of the house on West Sixty-fourth Street, whose address Kasia had given him—a quiet house in a quiet neighbourhood. His finger wastrembling as he touched the bell. How should he ever face her!
A negro boy answered the ring.
"I wish to see Miss Vard at once," said Dan, and produced a card.
"Miss Vard is not here, sir."
"Not here? Has she gone out?"
"No, sir; she's been to Europe and ain't got back yet."
Dan steadied himself against the wall, for he felt a little dizzy again.
"I know. But she must be back! Her boat docked three or four hours ago."
"We was expectin' her to-day, sir—her and her father; but they ain't got here yet."
Dan looked at the boy for a moment; then he gave him a silver dollar.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; I'm sure," and Dan could see that he was telling the truth.
"Have you a 'phone?"
"Oh, yes, sir."
"What's its number?"
The boy told him and Dan jotted it down.
"Will you give the card to Miss Vard as soon as she arrives?" he asked.
"Yes, sir, I'll do that."
Dan wrote a hasty line on the card, asking Kasiato call him at once, and added his telephone number. Then he turned wearily away, and went back to his rooms. There was nothing to do but wait. And he found waiting most trying of all. The minutes dragged miserably, each of them weighted with self-accusation, but the afternoon shadows began to lengthen and still his telephone had not rung. Finally he called for Kasia's number and asked for her. A voice which he recognised as that of the negro boy answered that she had not yet returned.
"It's those Germans!" Dan muttered to himself. "It's those damned Germans! They've got her into it, somehow!"
And then suddenly he remembered his appointment, and snatched out his watch. It was nearly six o'clock.
"I'll drag it out of them!" he said. "I'll drag it out of them! And if Chevrial's there...."
He stopped. Chevrial and the Germans could not be in collusion—such an alliance was unthinkable. But how else to explain it....
Dan gave it up; but a good dinner at a near-by restaurant restored him something of his self-confidence. After all, this was America. Europe might be honeycombed with intrigue and over-run with spies, but they would find their occupation gone on this side of the water! And he himself would explodea bomb in the morning'sRecordthat would shake them up a little! So it was a fairly confident and self-controlled young man who mounted the steps of the German consulate at five minutes to seven. A flunkey in livery opened the door to his ring.
"I have an appointment with Admiral Pachmann," said Dan, with a sudden cold fear at his heart that he would be laughed at; but instead he was shown at once into a little ante-chamber.
"Sit here a moment, sir," said the footman, and hastened away, closing the door behind him. But it opened almost at once, and Pachmann himself entered. Dan drew a deep breath of relief; it was all right then!
Pachmann fairly radiated good-humour. All his roughness of the morning had disappeared, and he greeted Dan beamingly.
"I am most glad to see you," he said, in such a tone that Dan almost believed him. "You are prompt—but that, I am given to understand, is an American virtue. However, I am prompt, also. The car is waiting."
"The car?" Dan echoed.
"You will understand," Pachmann explained, "that, since the Prince is incognito, it is impossible for him to remain at the consulate—that would at once betray him. I was uncertain, this morning, as to our arrangements, or I should have directed youto the proper address. However, it is but a step," and he opened the door.
Dan followed him along a handsome hall to the carriage entrance, where, at the foot of the steps, stood a limousine. As soon as they appeared, the driver, who had been standing at the hood, bent and cranked his motor and then sprang to the door and opened it.
"Enter, my dear sir," said Pachmann, and followed him into the car. The door slammed, the driver sprang to his seat, and they were off. In the semi-darkness, Dan fancied he heard a repressed chuckle, and a vague uneasiness stole upon him. But he shook it off. What had he to fear?
"You will remember," said Pachmann finally, "that this interview is not a thing which we desire, but to which we consent because we must. You placed us, this morning, in a very awkward position. You newspaper men of America have a method all your own. The manner in which you entrapped the Prince compels my admiration. How did you know that it was he?"
"There was a book on the ship with a history and portraits of the royal family," Dan explained. "I happened to be looking it over and recognised the likeness at once."
"So?" said Pachmann, and there was a note of surprise in his voice, which told Dan definitely that,whatever Chevrial's plot might be, this German was not in it. "You have sharp eyes. But the likeness may have been merely a chance one. It must have seemed most strange to you that a Prince of the Empire should travel alone as a passenger of the second class."
"It did. That was why I approached him as I did."
"It was most clever. We admit it. Ah, here we are."
The car had stopped, and Pachmann opened the door. As Dan alighted, he glanced up and down the street, but did not recognise it. It was a street of close-built apartment-houses and private dwellings like any one of hundreds in New York. Pachmann crossed the pavement, mounted the steps and touched the bell. The door was opened instantly by a tall servant in livery.
If Dan had expected it to reveal a regal magnificence, he was disappointed. The hall into which he stepped was simply, even meagrely furnished. Without pausing, Pachmann mounted the stair, and led the way into the front room on the upper floor. It was a large room, lighted only by the glow of a wood fire. A man was sitting in front of it, and sprang up at their entrance. Pachmann, at the door, switched on the electrics.
"My dear Prince," he said, "I have brought theyoung gentleman for the interview which we promised him."
And Dan, as he saw the other's face, breathed a sigh of relief. Yes, it was the Prince. For a moment in the car, he had feared that he was being tricked. Pachmann had undoubtedly chuckled!
The Prince bowed coldly. His face was very gloomy—in striking contrast to Pachmann's, which was beaming more than ever with good-humour.
"I feel that an apology is due Your Highness," said Dan, "for the way in which I sought to entrap you this morning. Please believe that I was about to promise to do what I could to respect your incognito when this gentleman intervened. In my article for to-morrow, I shall try to say nothing that can offend you."
"I thank you," said the Prince gravely.
"All this is wasting time," broke in Pachmann, impatiently. "Proceed with your questions, my young sir."
"What is the purpose of Your Highness's visit to America?" asked Dan.
The Prince hesitated and glanced at Pachmann.
"Perhaps it would be best for the explanation to come from me," said the latter smoothly, but with a sardonic smile upon his face. "The Prince travels in search of health. He is of a most studious disposition—sits up with his books far into thenight—becomes so absorbed in them that he forgets to go to bed, even to eat. So the Emperor, in fear that he would injure his health—you can see by looking at him he is most delicate—decreed a trip around the world, made incognito in the simplest fashion, during which he was not so much as to look inside a book. This accounts for the fact that never once on the voyage over did you see him with a book in his hand. That is the whole mystery, my young sir."
Dan, glancing at the Prince, saw that he was red with anger; but he could not repress a smile at the absurdity of Pachmann's explanation. The Prince was evidently as strong as an ox, and had anything but the appearance of a student.
"You may have heard some idle tales," went on Pachmann, rubbing his hands with pleasure, "of a love affair—of a bar-maid, perhaps. Berlin is always full of such gossip, and you American journalists hear it all. But believe me, it is merely gossip; the truth is as I have told you."
The Prince had wheeled upon Pachmann, his eyes blazing.
"It is too much!" he cried, in German. "You insult me, and you shall answer for it. I warn you!" and he strode to the door.
"Farewell, my Prince!" said Pachmann, and waited, with a sneer on his lips, until the Prince'sheavy footsteps died away down the hall. Then he turned back to Dan. "Behold that Princes have rages just as other men," he said.
"I don't blame him!" said Dan. "I wonder he didn't knock you down."
"So?" and Pachmann's eyes took an ugly gleam. "I fear the interview is at an end."
"I have another question to ask," said Dan quietly. "Where are Mr. Vard and his daughter?"
Pachmann's eyes narrowed to mere slits and his face became positively venomous.
"I was expecting that question," he sneered. "What do you know of Vard and his daughter?"
"They are friends of mine. I saw them leave the pier with you. They have not yet reached their apartment. Where are they?"
"I cannot tell you."
"You mean you will not?"
"Put it that way, if it pleases you."
A storm of rage was hammering in Dan's brain.
"I would advise you to tell me," he said, tensely.
"You threaten?"
"Yes," and Dan took a step toward the Admiral. "I would advise you to tell me."
Pachmann did not stir. He glanced with ironic eyes from Dan's white face to his working fingers. Then he threw back his head and laughed.
"But this is better fortune than I deserve!" hemocked. "I did not know, I did not suspect ... even when the girl told me!" Then his mood changed, his lips curled, his eyes flashed fire. "What a fool!" he sneered. "What a fool! You thrust yourself upon us—you walk into our trap—you are wholly in our power—and yet you think to frighten me with your grand air and your twitching hands! Bah! To me you are merely a speck of dust, to be blown aside—so! Now, more than ever! As an ignorant young fool, who knew no better, I might perhaps in time have let you go. But now...."
The anger had ebbed from Dan's brain, although his attitude had not relaxed. Staring into Pachmann's leering face, he realised that he must think and act quickly. The first thing was to escape; with a deep breath he braced himself and sprang for the door—to plunge straight into the outstretched arms of a man on guard there.
There was a moment's struggle; then Dan felt his feet kicked from under him, and fell with a crash that shook the house. In an instant two men were sitting on him, holding him down.
Then Pachmann came and looked down at him, his lips twitching with triumph.
"Young fool!" he sneered. "Young fool!" And then, in German, to the two men, "Take him away! In yonder!" and he pointed toward a door at the rear of the hall.