With a strong feeling of congratulation that he had gleaned the whole story of her wild adventure from Jessie Harcourt, Varney walked coolly up the staircase. He had little difficulty in locating the room where the dissolute ruler of Asturia lay. It was the only locked door in that corridor, and he had the key in his pocket, which key, it will be remembered, Jessie handed over to him.
The lights were still burning there; the king still lay in the huddled uniform of General Maxgregor on the bed. At the end of the corridor a telephone gleamed. Varney crossed over and called up his own confidential servant, to whom he gave a long message. This being done, he returned to the bedroom and carefully locked the door behind him. He crossed over to the bed and shook the royal occupant much as a policeman shakes a drunken tramp asleep in a gutter.
"Get up," he said. "Get up; you are wanted at once. And drink this—do you hear?"
The blear-eyed wretch sat up in bed. He was shaking from head to foot. His hands shook as he held them out for the contents of the bottle that Varney was holding—the rest of the drug that had been administered to Sir Reginald Lancing.
"I hope it won't hurt me," the king whispered. "My doctor here, Dr. Varney——"
"I am Dr. Varney," said the latter coldly, "only you are still too drunk to know who I am. I am not likely to give you anything harmful—at least, not for the present. Where are your clothes? You never came here in that uniform."
"I was in evening dress," the king said helplessly. "Somebody must have changed with me. Look and see, there's a good fellow. Must have been a big fellow who played this trick on me."
Varney gave a grunt of disappointment. He recollected now that Maxgregor had gone off in the guise of the king. Therefore, if the king had that proposed treaty of abdication in his pocket, the same was in the possession of Maxgregor at this moment.
"You are in the house of Lord Merehaven," Varney said. "You should have come here to-night with the queen. In the interests of your country, and in the interests of Europe, you should have been here. Instead of that you go off somewhere and get wretchedly drunk in some gambling-house. It was by great good luck that you were found and conveyed secretly here by the garden entrance. Kings have done some disgraceful things in their time, but nothing quite so bad as your conduct to-night. Where is the document that Prince Mazaroff gave you to sign?"
It was a bow drawn at a venture, but the shaft went home.
"I don't know," the king groaned. "I put it in my pocket. It was not the thing to sign all at once. Shouldn't have pluck enough whilst I was sober. Then I had too much champagne. What was that you gave me to drink just now? Seems to make a new man of me. Haven't felt so fit andwell for years. Feel as if I could do anything now."
"You'll want all your manhood presently," Varney said coolly. "Your father was a man of courage, as I found out for myself in his last painful illness. You had pluck enough as a boy; you'd have it again now if you dropped your champagne. Wash yourself well, and make yourself look as respectable as possible. We are going downstairs."
"What, like this!" the king cried in dismay. "In a uniform that is far too big——"
"Nothing of the kind. There is a change coming for you from your hotel. My confidential servant is seeing to it, and he will be here presently. With clean clothes and linen and an order or two you will be a passable king yet. Go and wash yourself at once. You are in my hands to-night."
There was a cold, stinging contempt in Varney's tones by no means lost on the listener. Perhaps some sense of shame was stirring within him, for no reproof rose to his trembling, bibulous lips. Varney passed out presently, locking the door behind him as coolly as if he had been a gaoler. At the foot of the stairs a neat-looking footman was waiting with a parcel for Varney. As he took it Hope crossed the hall. There was a look of alertness, a desire for battle in his face.
"What is going on?" Varney asked. "Something seems to have happened?"
"Count Gleikstein is here," Ronald whispered. "The Russianchargé d'affaires, in the absence at St. Petersburg of the Ambassador. You can imagine what he has come for. There was a great battle of wits going on in the salon. The Queen of Asturia is talking to Gleikstein, and I have secured the presence of Prince Mazaroff. Lechmere looksanxious for the fray, and I should say from the expression on his face that he has a knife up his sleeve. If we could play some strong card——"
"We are going to," Varney snapped, as he hugged his bundle under his arm. "Only keep the ball rolling for another quarter of an hour, and I shall be ready for you. Listen!"
Very rapidly Varney whispered a few instructions into the ear of Hope. The latter grinned delightedly, then his face grew grave again. The thing was serious enough, and yet there was a fine element of comedy in it. It was diplomacy gone mad. On the hall stand was a stack of visiting cards. On one of them, chosen at haphazard, Hope wrote a message. He trusted that the queen would understand; in fact, he felt sure that she would.
The little group in the salon, under the famous Romney and the equally famous Velasquez, was a striking one—the Queen of Asturia, tall and stately, and smiling as if perfectly at her ease; by her side Count Gleikstein, the Russianchargé d'affaires, slim waisted, dark of face and stern of eye, yet with a waxed moustache and an air that gave a suggestion of effeminacy to him. Lechmere was lounging by in a listless kind of way, and yet from time to time there was an eager tightening of his mouth that proved him ready for the fray. Prince Mazaroff completed the group.
Ronald Hope came up with a respectful bow, and tendered the card to the queen. She glanced at it leisurely; her face betrayed nothing as she read the message and handed the card back to Ronald again. One grateful look flashed from her eyes.
"I regret that I cannot," she said. "I have so many calls of that kind on my time. If the lady is afriend of yours, Captain Hope, I may stretch a point in her favour. She may call on my secretary at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning."
Ronald bowed deeply as if charged with a message, and hastened into the hall. The card he tore into small fragments and cast into a waste paper basket under one of the hall tables. Then he went back to the striking group under the picture again.
"I am afraid that it concerns all of us," the count was saying in a dangerously insinuating voice. "Of course, one can hardly be responsible for what the papers say, but in the present dangerous state of public opinion in Asturia—the queen will pardon me?"
"I pardon anybody who does their duty to their country at any cost," the queen said. "If we could produce those papers that your royal master is so suspicious about——"
"Then I am to understand that some papers of importance have really been stolen?" the count said swiftly.
"On the contrary, you are not to understand anything of the kind," Lord Merehaven smiled. "My dear count, I could lead you a fine wild-goose chase if I chose to allow your imagination free run. As a matter of fact, the papers you allude to were in my own hands at seven o'clock this evening. It is hardly possible that they could have been stolen and their contents made known to an American paper within an hour from that time. So easy am I in my mind that I have not even sent down to my office to see if the papers are still extant. And when you see the King of Asturia——"
"But I understand that he has gone to Paris?" Count Gleikstein said, with a swift, meaning glanceat the queen. "Of course, if his majesty were here, and could give us an assurance that he has in no way given his authority and let you know what I mean. I am afraid that those agreeable Bohemian excursions that his majesty is so fond of are not regarded in Asturia in the same liberal light that they might be. Still, your assurance, my dear Lord Merehaven, will not——"
"Will not weigh like that of his majesty," Merehaven said. "If he were only here——"
"He has been detained," the queen said, ignoring a meaning smile that passed between the count and Prince Mazaroff. "If I could only have a message——"
A quick, smothered cry broke from Mazaroff as he looked to the door. Gleikstein followed his glance, and his face fell wofully. The queen smiled and advanced one step towards the door. Her dark eyes were filled with a great and lasting joy.
"I think your kindness is going to be rewarded, count," she said. "Yes, I was not mistaken."
A tall footman in the doorway announced—"His Majesty the King of Asturia!"
It was not difficult for Jessie to guess the identity of the man who addressed her. Only a man who loved and felt sure that he was loved in return would have spoken to a girl like that. This was Charles Maxwell beyond a doubt. Nice-looking enough, Jessie thought, with a pleasing, amiable face—perhaps a trifle too amiable, but there was no mistaking the power in the lines of the mouth.
"What are you doing here like this?" he asked. "Heavens! has all the world gone mad to-night?"
The bitterness of despair rang in the speaker's voice. Jessie noticed that Maxwell was dressed not in the least like men in his position usually dress at that time of the night. He wore a grey flannel suit and a panama hat pulled down over his eyes.
"I came on urgent business," Jessie said. "I presume that you are Mr. Maxwell?"
"Why should I deny it?" the other asked. "I am Charles Maxwell, and the most miserable dog in London. But I am forgetting. Why do you ask me such a foolish question, Vera?"
"Because I want to be quite sure of my ground," Jessie said. "And because I am not Miss Vera Galloway at all. If you look at me very closely you will see that for yourself."
Maxwell stared at Jessie in a dull, wooden kind of way, as if the whole thing were past his comprehension.
"Yes," he said, "there is a difference, but it is so subtle that even I should not have noticed it unless you had called my attention to it. But I know who you are now. You are Miss Harcourt, daughter of Colonel Harcourt, late of the —th. I have often told Vera of the wonderful likeness between you. If you should ever meet her in private life——"
"I have met her, I am personating her at the present moment," Jessie whispered.
"Amazing!" Maxwell exclaimed. "But I understood that you were—that you had been—in short——"
"Engaged in a Bond Street shop," Jessie finished the sentence. "So I was till to-day, when I was discharged through no fault of my own. Miss Galloway sent for me to take her place. Secretly I have played her part all this evening. And she went away dressed in my simple black clothes——"
"But why?" Maxwell demanded jealously. "Why all this absurd mystery?"
"Surely you can guess? Why do you look so suspicious? I am not altogether in Miss Galloway's confidence, but I understand that she wanted to save somebody whom she loved—somebody that was in trouble. It requires no great intelligence to guess that you were the person in question. It was all connected with those papers missing from the Foreign Office."
"I know no more about it than the dead," Maxwell said vehemently. "The papers in question—and others—were as much in Lancing's custody asmine. It was he who was to blame, though I admit that I locked the papers away to-night after Lord Merehaven had done with them. When I saw theMercuryI was horror-stricken. I guessed exactly what had happened."
"How could you guess what had happened?" Jessie asked.
"Because I have had my suspicions for some time," Maxwell said. "I dismissed those suspicions as unworthy of me and insulting to Captain Lancing. I know that he was greatly infatuated with Countess Saens, whom a Mr. Lechmere, a late Queen's Messenger, had warned me against as no better than a Russian spy. Lancing was mad over her. There is not the slightest doubt that she induced Lancing to let her have those papers to copy. Then she refused to return them, and Lancing committed suicide. That is what I make of it."
"The sensational report in theMercurywent farther than that," Jessie said. "It is assumed that you are a party to the conspiracy, and that you fled to Paris. Is that true, or going to be true?"
"As heaven is my witness, no," Maxwell said in a hoarse whisper. "When I had made up my mind what had happened, I determined to get possession of those papers. I vanished, saying that I was called suddenly to Paris. For the last four hours I have been dogging Countess Saens. I followed her here, and I am not going to lose sight of her until she is safely at home. And when she is once safely at home, I am going to do a desperate and daring thing. What is she doing here?"
Jessie made no reply for the moment. She had pulled her wrap over her face again so that she should not be recognized. She was watching themovements of Countess Saens breathlessly. The woman had passed up the steps into the big hall beyond the swinging glass doors. She seemed to be arguing with a porter, who shook his head in an emphatic way. Evidently the countess was angry; so much could be seen from her gestures and the shake of her shoulders.
"She is trying to see a patient at irregular hours," Jessie said, "and the porter is adamant. I pray from the bottom of my heart that she may fail."
"Is this another piece in the puzzle?" Maxwell asked hopelessly.
"It is the key-piece of the problem," said Jessie. "Ah, the porter is not to be moved. He has sent off an under porter, possibly to call one of the house surgeons. See, the countess sits down."
Surely enough the countess had flung herself angrily into a seat. Nobody seemed to care much about her, for she waited ten minutes without any sign of anybody in authority. Meanwhile Jessie was making Maxwellau faitwith the situation.
"You threatened some dangerous and desperate enterprise a little later on," she said. "I suppose that is a supreme effort to try and get those papers?"
"You have guessed it," Maxwell said grimly. "If I could do that, the whole situation would be saved. We could do anything; we could point to Lancing's suicide as the result of reckless gambling. Mind you, that would be more or less true. If Lancing had not been desperately situated, he would never have yielded to the countess's fascinations and sold those precious documents."
"Yes, yes," Jessie interrupted. "But unless I am greatly mistaken, you have been forestalled.Somebody else has already removed the documents from Countess Saens's custody."
"You don't really mean that! What was it—a case of diamond cut diamond?"
"Yes, but not quite in the way you imagine. Those papers were stolen in turn from Countess Saens to-night, taken from a drawer in her bedroom by Miss Galloway."
Maxwell pressed his hands to his head. The situation was too much for him. He groaned for an explanation.
"I can only surmise," Jessie said. "But presently you will have to admit that I have very strong grounds for my surmises. In some way Miss Galloway obtained a clue to what was about to happen. That is why I was called in to take her place, so that she could have an hour or two without being suspected. An hour or so ago Countess Saens's maid came to Merehaven House with the information that there had been a burglary in the countess's bedroom, but that nothing besides some papers seemed to be missing. That those papers were important could be guessed by the ghastly yet furious expression on the lady's face. The maid was pressed for a description of the thief—who, by the by, was a woman. And then and there the maid pitched uponme. She declared point blank that it was I who committed the burglary. What do you think of that?"
"You are a clever young lady," Maxwell said hoarsely. "Pray go on."
"The maid stuck to her guns, though everybody laughed at her. She said the thief was dressed in plain black, and as I was in evening dress, and had been seen all the evening, those who heard were amused. ButIunderstood. In my plain blackdress Miss Galloway had gone to the countess's house and stolen those papers. The thing was as clear as daylight to anybody behind the scenes. Under the circumstances, your prospective burglary would be so much loss of time."
"I quite understand that," Maxwell muttered. "It is exceedingly clever of you to read between the lines so clearly. Vera has done this for my sake. But how did she know—how could she possibly tell what was going to happen, and when those papers were to be found? Of course,Iguessed where the trouble lay directly I saw theMercuryparagraph, but Vera! And she never takes the slightest interest in politics. What are you looking at?"
Once more Jessie was staring intently past the swinging doors of the hospital into the big hall beyond. The countess had now risen from her chair and was facing a little man with a bald head and gold-rimmed spectacles, who appeared to be explaining something to her. Jessie could see him bow and shake his head. Her breath came very fast.
"Why are you so interested in the countess's present action?" Maxwell asked.
"Because she has come here to try and see a patient," Jessie whispered intently. "From the bottom of my heart, I pray that she may fail. If she succeeds we are ruined, you are ruined. For the patient is no other than Vera Galloway."
"I suppose I shall be able to take it all in presently," Maxwell said feebly. "Vera is a patient here, and the countess has come to see her. But would you mind explaining to me why Vera is here, what has happened to her, and what that fiend of a woman desires to know?"
"It was a case of cruel misfortune," Jessie said. "Miss Galloway was knocked down by a passing cab in Piccadilly and brought here. She was not so badly hurt, because she had the sense to call herself by my name. Besides, Dr. Varney saw her here. And Dr. Varney discovered my secret, so that I was obliged to confide in him. Now do you see?"
"I can't see where the Countess Saens comes in," Maxwell murmured.
"You are not very wise or long sighted for a diplomatist," Jessie said with a faint smile. "Don't you see that the countess's maid's suspicions fell on fruitful soil? When she left Merehaven House for her own, she discovered the full significance of her loss. Then she began to put things together. She had an idea that a trick had been played upon her. She had the police in——"
"Yes, but how did she discover that anybody answering to Vera's description washere?"
"Easily enough. Her maid gave the description of the thief. Then the police began to make inquiries.They discover that a girl in black answering to the maid's description has been brought here after an accident. They tell the countess as much. The police don't worry about the matter for the present, because their bird is quite safe. But that is not good enough for the countess. She comes here to make sure for herself; she suspects the trick."
"I confess that you are too clever for me," Maxwell sighed. "And yet everything you say is absolutely clear and convincing. I am afraid that there is still further trouble looming ahead. How did you get to know what had happened?"
"Miss Galloway sent me a message by a district boy. The idea was that I was to try and see her without delay, and go on playing my part until we could resume our respective personalities. Without some further coaching such a thing was impossible. I took Dr. Varney into my confidence, and he gave me a permit to see Vera Galloway to-night. I am here at considerable risk, as you understand, though I have prepared for my return to Merehaven House. Ah, she has failed."
The countess was standing up and gesticulating wildly before the little man in the gold-rimmed glasses. He seemed to be profoundly sorry, but he was quite firm. He signalled the porter, who opened one of the big glass doors and signified that the countess could depart.
"Even her fascinations have failed," Jessie said. "Please let me go, Mr. Maxwell. If I am recognized now everything is ruined. And you had better not be seen, either."
"Every word that you say is replete with wisdom," Maxwell said. "One moment. I must seeyou again to-night and know how things are going. Will you meet me in an hour's time in the garden at the back of Merehaven House? Don't say no."
"If it can possibly be managed," said Jessie. "Now I must go. You had better get into the shadow across the road. I feel that all is going to be well yet."
Maxwell lounged away, and Jessie passed quickly along as the countess came down the steps and stepped into her brougham. Jessie waited to see the flashing equipage drive away before she turned again and in her turn mounted the steps of the hospital.
Jessie boldly demanded to see a patient named Harcourt, and thrust her permit into the porter's hand. He looked a little suspicious over this fuss about a mere patient, but the name on the permit had its force, and presently Jessie found herself entering one of the wards under the charge of a nurse. The nurse glanced at Jessie's half-concealed face, and came to the natural conclusion that here was a sister of the latest accident case. Under the circumstances, she had no hesitation in leaving Jessie and Vera Galloway together.
"Thank Heaven you have come!" Vera whispered. "No, there is not much the matter. I suppose I must have fainted at the shock and the pain, but the doctor says I shall be out in two or three days at the outside. It is a case of bruised tendons more than anything else. You dear, brave girl!"
The dear, brave girl forced a smile to her lips. All the same, the prospect was alarming. It was one thing to carry this imposture through for an hour or two, but quite another to keep the comedygoing for some days longer. But audacity carries such things through.
"Tell me everything that has happened," Vera went on. "Don't let us dwell on this cruel misfortune. Everything seemed going so well when that wretched cab came along. Perhaps I was dazed by my success. I know that I was shaking from head to foot ... but that mattered to nobody but myself. Tell me."
Jessie proceeded with her story. She had a deeply interested listener. Vera turned from side to side and her face grew pale as she listened to the amazing story that Jessie told her.
"So I am in danger," she said. "The countess suspects. And it was all true, all about Charles and Captain Lancing. I heard that as I came along. If I could only see Charlie——"
"I saw him not five minutes ago," Jessie said. "Perhaps I had better finish my story, and then you can ask any questions you like afterwards."
Vera composed herself to listen with what patience she could. Her white face was flushed and hot before Jessie had finished. The latter looked uneasy.
She was evidently uneasy in her mind about something.
"I am afraid that I must ask you to confide in me more fully," Jessie said. "Presently I will ask you to give me a few simple instructions whereby I can keep in touch with my position. But you will recognize the danger, both to you and myself. The countess has her suspicions aroused, as I have told you. Now tell me, did you visit her house to-night? Were you the burglar, so to speak, who——"
"I was. I may as well admit it to you. It was the matter of the papers. You see I knew——"
"Yes, but how did you know?" Jessie persisted. "You saw me this evening quite early. At that time those papers were quite safe at the Foreign Office. How could you tellthenthat they were going to be stolen, or rather, conveyed to Countess Saens? And if you knew that the robbery was going to take place, why did you not warn Lord Merehaven? Or better still, tell Mr. Maxwell what you had discovered?"
"I could not get in touch with Charlie at that moment," Vera said, speaking as if with difficulty. The tears had gathered in her eyes. "There was no time to be lost."
"I am still very much at sea," Jessie said gently. "What aroused your suspicions?"
"Yes, I had better tell you everything," Vera said in a firmer tone. "You have been so good to me, you are so loyal and brave. There never was anybody so good to a stranger before."
"No, no. I did it all for money. It was because I was so desperately placed——"
"It is nothing of the kind, Jessie, and you know it. You would have done the same for me in any case—I feel certain that you would. My first suspicions were aroused by a letter which came into my hands. It was evidently sent in mistake, and written by Charlie to Countess Saens. It seems as if the two had struck up a violent flirtation together. If I cared less than I do for Charlie——"
"I would not let your mind dwell on that," Jessie said soothingly. "When you get to the bottom of this business you will find that there is some plan on the part of that infamous woman. May I ask you whether that letter was an admission of guilt on the part of Mr. Maxwell, or——"
"It might have been. In the light of recent events it certainly looks like it. But pretty well everything is capable of explanation, as you know. I shall possess my soul in patience.... I am so dazed and confused now that I do not seem able to think clearly. But when I sent for you I could see everything as clear as crystal before my eyes. If I had not met that cab everything would have been all right, and you would have been back at home by this time and nobody any the wiser."
"Then you were quite successful?" Jessie asked eagerly.
"Absolutely successful. I can't think now how I had courage to do it. Once I got going, my nerves never failed me for a moment. You see, I know that house where the countess lives; I have been there so many times before. And I felt so strong and resolute, especially when I passed the porter and he did not make any protest. But the rest you already have from the Countess Saens's maid. It was a sheer piece of bad luck finding her there at all."
"And you got safely out of the house with those papers? That was a bit of good luck indeed."
Vera Galloway smiled. A sudden idea came to her—the idea seemed to come to both girls at the same time. It was Jessie who put the question.
"And where are the papers now?" she asked. "You had better let me have them."
"Have them!" Vera echoed blankly. "Where are they? Don't say they were lost after I fell under the cab!"
There were no papers anywhere to be found.
Cool hand as he was, even Lechmere glanced with astonishment at the King of Asturia. The ruler was small and mean-looking generally, but now he seemed to be transformed. Varney's drug must have been a powerful one to make that difference. For here was a king—a boy specimen with red hair, but a king all the same. Count Gleikstein flashed a furious glance at Mazaroff, who merely shrugged his shoulders. But he was puzzled and annoyed, as Lechmere could see from the expression of his face. The comedy was a pleasing one for the old queen's messenger.
The great salon was still well filled by Lord Merehaven's guests, for this was one of the functions of the season, and few people were going farther to-night. It was known, too, that the great diva also had captured all hearts and was going to sing again. Therefore the big room, with its magnificent pictures and china and statuary gleaming with hundreds of electric lights, was still filled with a brilliant mass of moving colour.
A thrill and a murmur had run round the brilliant assembly as the King of Asturia came in. There had been many rumours lately, but nobody quite knew the truth. The King of Asturia had either abdicated his throne or he had been deposed by a revolution. The papers had been full of gossip lately, for the Queen of Asturia was a popular figurein London society, and people were interested. It was for this reason—it was for the sake of necessary people that Lord Merehaven had hoped to have seen his royal guest earlier.
But here he was at last, making a dramatic entrance at exactly the proper time, and surprising even the man who had brought this mischief about.
"The constitution of an ox," Varney told himself. "With a heart like his, too! And yet an hour ago he was looking death in the face. I'll try that drug again."
The king came forward smiling and at his ease. He bowed to the queen, and placed her hand to his lips. Then he extended his fingers to Lord Merehaven.
"My dear lord, I am much distressed to be so late," he said. "I dare say the queen will have told you the reason why I have been delayed. Ah, good evening, Count Gleikstein. Prince Mazaroff, I wonder you are not ashamed to look me in the face."
Mazaroff muttered something and looked uncomfortable. He was understood to ask what he had done.
"Now there is an elastic conscience for you!" the king cried. "That man comes between me and my duty to my people, and then he asks what he has done! He knows that love of pleasure is my stumbling-block, and he plays on my weakness. Only this very afternoon he comes to me with a proposal which I find utterly irresistible. My dear prince, I shall have to forswear your company. You had no right to take me where you took me to-day."
Mazaroff stepped back puzzled and confused. He had decided that he knew his man well, but herewas an utterly unexpected phase of his character.
"You gave me certain papers to sign," the king went on. "Positively, I have utterly forgotten what they were all about. Nothing very important, or I should not have presumed to sign them. Something to do with concessions, were they not?"
"That is so, please your majesty," Mazaroff stammered. "It is a matter that will keep. If you will go over the petition at your leisure? As a liberal-minded man myself——"
"My dear Mazaroff, your liberal-mindedness is proverbial. But as to those papers, I lost them. Positively, they are nowhere to be found. You must let me have others."
A curious clicking sound came from Mazaroff's lips. The face of Count Gleikstein turned pale with anger. There was a comedy going on, and the grave listeners with their polite attention knew what was happening quite as well as if the conversation had been in plain words.
"Your majesty is pleased to jest with me," Mazaroff said hoarsely.
"Indeed I am not, my good fellow. Blame yourself for the excellency of that brand of champagne. We dined somewhere, did we not? I must have changed somewhere after, for I distinctly remember burning a hole in my shirt front with a cigarette, and behold there is no burn there now! Somewhere in the pocket of a dress-coat lies your precious concessions."
"I think," the queen said with some dignity, "we had better change the conversation. I do not approve of those medieval customs in my husband. Ah, Madame Peri is going to sing again."
There was a hush and a stir, and the gloriousliquid notes broke out again. Mazaroff slipped away, followed presently by Count Gleikstein. The latter's face was smiling and gay as he addressed some remark to Mazaroff in a low tone, but his words were bitter.
"You senseless fool," he said. "How have you managed to blunder in this idiotic way? And after everything had been so perfectly arranged. It would have been known to-morrow in every capital in Europe that the Queen of Asturia attended the important diplomatic and social functionalone. We could have hinted that the king had already fled. In the present state of feeling in Asturia that would have insured the success of the revolution."
"And the occupation of Russia in the interests of peace," Mazaroff sneered. "My dear Gleikstein, I am absolutely dumbfounded. It was as the king says. I lured him into a house where only the fastest of men go, a gambling den. I saw that act of abdication in his pocket. I saw him so helplessly intoxicated that it was any odds he was not seen before morning. I arranged for him to be detained where he was. To-morrow the thing would have been done; it would have been done to-day but he was past signing. Then he comes here clothed and in his right mind. It is amazing. We shall have to begin all over again, it seems to me."
"We certainly have received a check," Gleikstein admitted with a better grace. "But there are other cards to play yet. Those papers missing from the Foreign Office, for instance. To get to the bottom of England's game will be a great advantage."
"Don't you know that we have been beaten there as well?" said Mazaroff.
"You don't mean to say so! Impossible! Why, thecountess sent a cypher message to say that she had been entirely successful. The message was not sent direct tome, of course, but it came by a sure hand about eight o'clock. The countess had not read those papers, but they were most assuredly in her possession. She promised me that——"
"Well, she is no longer in a position to fulfil her promise," said Mazaroff. "To return, the papers were most impudently stolen from her house. It is quite true, my dear Gleikstein, that we both realize the powerful secret combination that we have to fight against. Don't you see what a clever lot they are! How they have tracked our deeds and acts! How did they manage to recover the king and bring him here clothed and in his right mind? Why, the thing is nothing less than a miracle. Then the countess loses those papers almost before they are in her possession. It is any odds that she had not even sufficient time to glance at them."
"But you are quite sure that the papers have been lost, Mazaroff?"
"Absolutely certain, though the countess did not tell me so. She left here in a violent hurry on her maid coming to say that there had been a burglary at her house. I heard all that in the hall. The maid said that nothing but papers had vanished. One glance at the face of the countess told me what papers those were. And so we have a powerful combination against us who can work miracles and undo our best efforts almost before the knots are securely tied. For the present we are beaten, and it will be just as well for you to realize it thoroughly."
Gleikstein would have said more, but Lechmere lounged up at the same moment. His grey, leanface was quite smooth and placid; there was a smile on his face.
"What are you two old friends conspiring about?" he asked.
"There is never any conspiracy so far as diplomacy is concerned," Gleikstein said smoothly. "We are all crystal wells of truth. Who told you we were old friends?"
"My eyes," Lechmere said quite coolly. "And my excellent memory. It is idle to try and deceive an old queen's messenger like me. You look puzzled, both of you. Cast your minds back to 15th November, 1897, at Moscow. It was at the Hotel Petersburg. Three men were playing loo. There was a waiter with one eye in the room. Come, there is a puzzle for you."
And Lechmere lounged on as if anxious to catch up a passing acquaintance.
"What does he mean?" Mazaroff muttered anxiously. "What does the fellowknow?"
Gleikstein looked as utterly puzzled as his companion. They glanced at one another in a guilty kind of way. Evidently the allusion to the Hotel Petersburg mentioned by Lechmere conjured up some painful and none too creditable associations.
"There was only one other man present, and he has totally disappeared," said Gleikstein. "Now how did that man come to know all about it? One never seems quite to get away from the past."
Somebody attracted Gleikstein's attention, and Mazaroff wandered off into the garden. He was uneasy and disturbed in his mind, and anxious over the failure of his plot. It seemed as if the whole affair was little better than an open secret. As an agent of Russia, he was anxious to see the abdication of the throne by the King of Asturia. Asturia was a stumbling-block south in the path of Russian progress. Once the king had abdicated or been forced from his throne by a revolution, Russia would certainly step in under the plea of the maintenance of peace in a notoriously turbulent region. They might concede to European opinion by placing a puppet on the throne, but henceforth Asturia would be no better or worse than a Russian province. If this was accomplished, then Mazaroff netted a fortune. Only to-day it had seemed in his grasp.
And with the swiftness of a lightning flash, everything had changed. The puppet had been tornfrom Mazaroff's hands; those compromising papers had vanished from Countess Saens's drawer. At the present moment Lord Merehaven was in a position to shrug his shoulders, and say that those suspicions must be verified before he was prepared to admit anything. It was a comedy on both sides, but it remained a comedy so long as those papers were not forthcoming.
Mazaroff was brought back out of the grave of these gloomy reflections by a footman who tendered him a note. There was no answer, the servant said, he had merely had to deliver the letter to Prince Mazaroff. With a new interest in life, Mazaroff recognized the Countess Saens's neat writing. He read the letter slowly and thoughtfully, then tearing it in small pieces he dropped the fragments into the heart of a laurel bush. A slow, cruel smile spread over his dark face.
"So that is the game," he muttered. "Strange that I did not spot it before. Still, the marvellous likeness would have deceived anybody. The maid was not far wrong after all. Well, at any rate, I shall have some sport out of this. Who knows what it may lead to?"
Quite eagerly Mazaroff dropped his cigarette and returned to the house. He walked from one room to the other as if looking for somebody. He was in search of Miss Galloway, he said. Had anybody see her lately? He had an important message to deliver to her from Countess Saens. The cry was taken up—it became generally known that Vera Galloway was sought after.
One had seen her here and one had seen her there, but nobody knew anything definite. The more difficult the search became, the more Prince Mazaroffappeared to be pleased. The quest came to the ears of Dr. Varney at length. He dropped the ever-pleasant conversation in which he was indulging with a famous lady novelist and became alert instantly.
"I fancy I can find her," he said. "Who seeks her so closely at this time of night?"
"Prince Mazaroff," a girl laughed as she passed by. "Is it a proposal, do you think, doctor? Fancy being proposed to by a real prince!"
But Varney was anxious behind his answering smile. His name had not been mentioned in the business at all. He was quite free to cross-examine Mazaroff without the latter being in the least suspicious. And Varney had a pretty shrewd idea that Mazaroff regarded him as an elderly old fossil who had a child's mind outside the regions of science. He pottered up to the Russian presently.
"What are you seeking?" he asked. "Is there anything that I can do for you?"
"Yes; I am looking for Miss Galloway," Mazaroff said, with a gleam in his eye that told Varney a great deal more than the speaker imagined. "I have an important message for her."
"Well, tell me what it is and I will deliver it," Varney said with a vacuous smile. "As the family physician there are no secrets from me. Who seeks Miss Galloway?"
"Tell her the Countess Saens," Mazaroff said. "I fancy she will understand that. I have just had a letter——"
But Varney had wandered off as if the conversation did not in the least interest him. As a matter of fact, he was both startled and uneasy. Mazaroff had been too communicative in the hour of hissupposed triumph, and he had told Varney everything. Mazaroff had had a letter from the countess, and the countess had guessed, on finding her precious papers missing, exactly what had happened. On making inquiries, Countess Saens had discovered that there was a double of Miss Galloway somewhere, and she had asked Mazaroff to make sure of the fact. And Mazaroff was the very man who was wholly responsible for the appearance of Jessie Harcourt at Merehaven House. But for his flagrant insult of the girl she would not have been here at all. There was danger in the air.
And the danger was not lessened by the fact that Jessie had not returned. People presently would begin to think it strange that Miss Galloway was not to be found. And if those two came face to face—Jessie and Mazaroff—what an explosion there would be!
Well, forewarned was forearmed, Varney told himself as he walked back to the house. Jessie would be back before long, and then the whole thing must come out. But Jessie had done good work, not only on behalf of her new friend Vera Galloway, but also on behalf of England and the peace of Europe. This pretty, resolute, sharp girl had suddenly become an important piece in the great game of diplomatic chess. If necessary, Merehaven must be told everything. He must be shown the absolute importance of checking Mazaroff and rendering his last stroke utterly futile. When Merehaven came to know what had happened, he would be compelled to stand by the side of Jessie Harcourt. It would have to be a strong game of bluff, Varney decided. Merehaven would be properly indignant when the confession came; he would refuse to believe that his niece couldbe party to anything of the kind. Jessie could come into the room if Mazaroff decided to make an exposure, and sit with becoming dignity. She would decline to listen to the Russian's preposterous suggestion, and with all the dignity at his command Merehaven would back the girl up. Varney began to chuckle to himself as he thought of Mazaroff's discomfiture.
But whilst Mazaroff was hunting round for the double of Miss Galloway, never dreaming that she also had left the house, Merehaven must be warned. It was a difficult matter to detach the old diplomat from the circle surrounding him, but Varney succeeded at length.
"Now what is the matter?" Merehaven said tartly. "Another surprise? Really, I seem to be living in an atmosphere of them to-night, and I am getting too old for these shocks. What is the matter?"
"A great deal, or I would not bother you in this way?" Varney said. "Make an excuse to get away for a few minutes and go to your study. It is absolutely imperative that I should have a word or two with you before you speak to Mazaroff again."
Merehaven complied with a sigh for his lost social evening. He went off in the direction of his study, but Varney did not follow him direct. On the contrary, he lounged into the garden intending to enter the study by the window, which he knew to be open. By the time he reached the garden he had a full view of Merehaven bending over his writing table as if dispatching a note. At the same instant a figure rose from behind a group of rose trees and confronted Varney. As her black wrap fell away he had no difficulty in recognizing the features of Jessie Harcourt.
"I am back again, you see," she said breathlessly. "It is such wonderful good fortune to meet you here so soon, and where we can speak at once. Dr. Varney, have I missed anything? Is there anything that you have to tell me? HaveIbeen missed? Nothing has happened since I left?"
"Not till the last moment," Varney said. "My dear child, positively I can't stay a moment to tell you. It is imperative that I should have a few words with Lord Merehaven at once, before Prince Mazaroff can get to him. Stay here under the shadow of the house; keep your wrap over your head. Nobody is likely to come out again to-night. And please to listen to everything that is going to be said, because the conversation will give you the clue that I cannot stay to afford you now. Ah!"
Varney darted forward until he reached the window of the library, and then he stumbled into the room as if he had found his way there quite by accident. At the same moment Mazaroff entered from the hall. His face was pale, his eyes glittered with something of sneering triumph. He advanced to the writing table and laid a hand on Lord Merehaven's shoulders.
"May I ask your lordship's attention for a moment?" he said. "I have something important and, I am afraid, very painful to say to you."
Jessie strained her ears to listen.
As Jessie sat there by the bedside of her new-found friend, she hardly knew what to say. It was impossible, after all that Jessie had seen and heard, to believe that the papers so boldly purloined by Vera Galloway were not of the least importance. Otherwise there would not have been all those alarms and excursions, and most assuredly Countess Saens would have made no attempt to get into the hospital. Vera had handled the missing Foreign Office documents beyond a doubt.
"Cannot you recollect anything about them?" Jessie urged.
"Absolutely nothing at all," Vera replied. "You see, I was so utterly overcome by the success of my daring exploit that I was half dazed. I had saved the situation, and I had saved Charlie Maxwell also. I suppose I must have crossed Piccadilly in a dream. Then there was a violent shock, and I came to my senses; but only for a moment, and then I was utterly unconscious till I arrived here. I had just sense enough left to remember that I was called 'Harcourt,' and there it ended."
"And yet I suppose all your underlinen is marked?" Jessie suggested.
"Only with a monogram, one of those intricate things that nobody could possibly understand. But look round, and see if you can find any trace of those papers. In a vague way I remember clutching them tightly in my hand as the cab struck me."
But there were no papers to be seen. The nurse knew nothing of them, and the hall porter was equally sure that the patient carried nothing as she entered the hospital. Doubtless they had fallen in the road and had been picked up by somebody who would not have the slightest idea of the value of their contents. It was so cruelly hard that the tears rose to Vera's eyes.
"It does seem terrible," she said, "after all the risk and all the danger. I could cry out when I think of it, I could sit up in bed and scream. And to think that those documents are perhaps lying in the gutter at this very moment! Jessie, is there nothing you can do?"
"I can have faith and courage," Jessie replied. "I will ask Dr. Varney what is best to be done. At any rate, there is one way in which we have the better of our foes. They know that the papers are stolen, but they don't know that they have been lost again. I dare say Dr. Varney will think of a plan. But I cannot believe that Mr. Maxwell was guilty. I saw him just now, as I told you, and I am quite certain that he is no traitor to his country."
"I hope not," Vera said. "It seems almost incredible. When Charlie's face rises up before me, I feel that I have been dreaming. Yet I know that he has been exceedingly friendly with the Countess Saens. There was assuredly a kind of flirtation between them. I tried to believe that I was needlessly jealous. I should have thought no more about it until I received that anonymous letter——"
"Anonymous letter!" Jessie exclaimed. "That is the first time that you have mentioned it at all to me."
"Because I forget. As a matter of fact, I hadno opportunity. It was only just before I came to you in my distress and trouble. The letter was beautifully written on very good paper. I am quite sure that it emanated from a lady of education. It simply said that if I would save the man I loved from ruin, I had better contrive to find my way into the Countess Saens's bedroom to-night between the hours of nine and eleven. Also, I was to open the second drawer of the Dutch cabinet, the key of which I should find on the top of the clock. You see, I had heard my uncle mention this Asturian trouble. The queen was a friend of mine, and I divined what was going to happen. I tried to see Charlie, but I was baffled there.
"Then you came into my mind, and I determined to put a desperate resolve into execution. I knew Countess Saens's house well; she took it furnished from some friends of ours, and I had been in every room there. I knew the countess was coming to my aunt's party. And when I started out on my errand I was more or less in the dark until I heard those dreadful newsboys proclaiming the tragedy. Then one or two hints dropped by the Queen of Asturia came back to me, and I knew then the import of my mission. That mission was accomplished, as you know. How I failed at the very last moment you already know."
"But I am not going to admit that you have failed," Jessie urged. "There can be no question of the fact that you dropped those papers. It is equally certain that somebody picked them up. They would be nothing to an outsider, who would probably take them to Scotland Yard. I decline to admit that we are beaten yet."
"It is very good of you to say so," Vera saidgratefully. "You will have to play my part till to-morrow, when Dr. Varney must contrive to come and see me. He will have to certify that I am quite well enough to be moved, and then I shall proceed in a cab to your lodgings, still passing as Jessie Harcourt. You will write to your sister and ask her to be prepared. Then you will come home and we will change clothes once more, so that nobody will be any the wiser. Don't worry about anything; be prepared and silent, and leave matters to my maid. And never again so long as I live shall you want a friend, Jessie. God bless you!"
Jessie rose and kissed the tearful face of the speaker. The nurse was hovering about again with a suggestion that it was high time the visitor departed. Jessie blessed the long black wrap and hood that Varney's foresight had provided her with, seeing that she would have to walk home. She would not have been afraid under ordinary circumstances, but the spectacle of a well dressed woman walking in that guise at dead of night was likely to attract attention. As a matter of fact, it did attract attention, for a man passed Jessie at the hospital door.
"Don't be alarmed," he said. "It is I—Charles Maxwell. Glad to find that a turned-up collar and hat pulled over the eyes makes so much difference. How is she Miss—Miss——"
Maxwell boggled over the name, and Jessie did not help him. Miss Galloway was going on very well indeed, but she had had her perilous errand for nothing. There was no object whatever in Mr. Maxwell committing a second attack on the house of the countess, seeing that the precious documents had already been abstracted by Vera Galloway.That Miss Galloway had lost the papers made no difference.
"That's very unfortunate," Maxwell said with a little sigh. "A brave and daring action like that should have been fully rewarded. Still, it gives us breathing time; it enables me to defy the foe. Let me walk back with you as far as the garden gate of Merehaven House. We shall pass the residence of Countess Saens on the way, and we may notice something."
Jessie had no objection to make. On the contrary, she was glad of a male companion. Usually she did not mind being out late; but then she was not dressed for society, and the shoes she wore were not satin ones with old paste buckles.
Very silently they walked along the now deserted streets. Then Maxwell paused, and indicated a house on the opposite side of the road. A brilliant light burned in the hall, and in the dining-room the electrics were fully on. The lace blinds were half down, and beyond the bank of Parma violets and maidenhair fern in the window boxes it was possible to obtain a glimpse into the room.
"The countess is at home," Maxwell whispered. "I know that for certain. I don't fancy she has gone out again, for a messenger boy was summoned to the house. Ah, there she is!"
By stooping a little it was possible to see the figure of the countess. She had discarded her jewels and her flowers; she had a tiny cigarette in her mouth. She took her place at a table and seemed to be writing something. Presently a man entered the room—a slight man, with a pale face and a mass of flame-coloured hair on his head; across his gleaming white shirt an order or two glittered.
Maxwell grasped Jessie's arm; he spoke with a fierce indrawing of his breath.
"Do you see that?" he whispered "Do you recognize anybody in that figure standing there—the man, I mean?"
"The King of Asturia," Jessie replied promptly. It was not possible to be quite certain at that distance, but the dining-room was flooded with light. Beyond doubt here was the ruler of Asturia, whom Jessie had left not so long before in a state of collapse.
"Look at him," Maxwell said in tones of the deepest contempt. "Look at the smiling scoundrel. And yet to save him and his kingdom one of the noblest women in England is risking her all. For his sake General Maxgregor does outrage to his feelings and conceals his passionate love for the queen. I would give ten years of my life to know what is going on there."
It was impossible to hear, however. It was also impossible to see anything from the near side of the road. Jessie's anger was almost as passionate as that of her companion. It seemed a lamentable thing that the King of Asturia should be so lost to all sense of his position. And he must have known that he was making himself quite at home in the house of his deadliest enemy.
Maxwell's coolness had come back to him again. His face was alert and vigorous; his anger had gone.
"I am afraid that I shall have to ask you to go on alone," he said. "In the face of this discovery I do not see my way to lose this opportunity. The king cannot stay here long; you will see that it is impossible for Countess Saens to run any further risks. I am going to wait."
Jessie felt that she would like to wait also, but duty was urging her elsewhere. She stood irresolute just a moment as a figure came down the street, and pausing before the house opposite, whistled a bar from some comic opera. Maxwell touched Jessie's arm.
"Just a minute," he said. "Cling to me as if we were saying good-night. Unless I am greatly mistaken, the whistle was no more than a signal. Ah, that is what I thought! Evidently all the servants have gone to bed, for here is the countess herself."
The countess opened the door and stood on the step with the light behind her. The man stopped whistling and walked up the steps. He saluted the countess properly.
"So you are here at last!" she said. The night was so close and still that her voice was easily carried across the road. "I thought that you were never coming. Take this note and see that PrinceMazaroff has it without delay. You will be able to give him the signal. See it goes into his own hand. Oh, yes, Merehaven House. The best way will be by the garden door.Youknow where that is."
The man nodded, and said something in Russian that the listeners could not follow. Then he lounged off up the road and the countess vanished. Maxwell was all energy.
"Come along," he said. "I have changed my mind. What the king does for the next few hours must be on his own head and on his own account. It is far greater importance for me to know what message it is that the countess has sent to Prince Mazaroff. We will walk quickly and get ahead of that fellow, so that I can hide myself in the garden before he comes. We shall probably find that the signal is a bar or two of the same opera that our man was whistling just now. Unless fortune plays me a very sorry trick, I shall see the inside of that letter within half an hour."
The slouching figure of the unconscious Russian was passed in a perfectly natural way. Maxwell glanced at him sideways, and saw that he had slipped the letter into his breast pocket. The garden gate leading into the grounds of Merehaven House was safely reached, and Jessie drew a sigh of relief as she threw off her wrap and cast it on a seat. If anybody saw her now it would be assumed that she had come out for a breath of fresh air.
She saw the lights streaming from the library window, she saw the little group there, and she drew nearer. She heard enough to tell her that she was in deadly peril of being discovered. If Mazaroff was not stopped, if he persisted in his determination, the fraud must be exposed.
What was to be done? Something would have to be done, and speedily. Varney could be trusted to stave off the evil moment as long as possible. If she could come and spoil Mazaroff's game? The idea came to Jessie like a flash—she tingled with it.
The queen! Who else but the Queen of Asturia? Jessie raced round and reached the house. She hoped that she would not be too late; she prayed that the queen had not gone. There she was, on the couch of the salon, quiet and dignified as usual, but her dark eyes were alert. She looked about her from time to time as if seeking something. Greatly daring, Jessie made a sign. With her forefinger she actually beckoned to the queen! But there was no sign of offended displeasure in the face of royalty. On the contrary, the queen rose, and making some excuse walked to the door. Once outside her manner changed entirely. Her face grew haggard, her eyes had a hunted expression.
"What is it?" she asked. "Something very wrong, or you would never.... But never mind that. Speak plainly, and I will do anything I can to assist. Ay, menial work, if necessary."
"There is no necessity, madame," Jessie said breathlessly. "Nor have I time to explain. That will come later. Prince Mazaroff has made what he deems to be a most important discovery. It is nothing like so important as he thinks, but its disclosure at the present moment would ruin all our plans. He is telling Lord Merehaven all about it now in the library. Lord Merehaven is an English gentleman first and a diplomatist afterwards, and he would insist upon having the whole thing cleared up. Could you not make a diversion? Could you not interrupt, get Mazaroff out of theway if only for half an hour? Time is precious."
"It is very vague," said the queen quietly. "At the same time, I can see that you are in deadly earnest. I will go to the library myself at once."
The queen moved along the corridor swiftly, as she used to do in her mountain home long before she felt the weight of the crown on her brows. She forced a smile to her face as she entered. Lord Merehaven was listening gravely and with a puzzled frown to Mazaroff. Varney stood by laughing with the air of a man who is vastly amused.
"I don't think Lord Merehaven understands," he said. "Champagne, my dear prince, champagne in moderation is an excellent thing. But when indulged in three times a day——"
"I shall be glad if Miss Galloway will be pleased to grace us with her presence," Mazaroff said.
"Would I not do instead?" the queen said as she looked in. She was smiling gaily as she entered. She seemed to have utterly abandoned herself to the gaiety of the moment. "Miss Galloway is doing something for me, and I could not spare her for the next half hour. After that we are both at your disposal. Positively, I cannot permit three of the cleverest and most brilliant men in the house to be seeking each other's society in that selfish manner. You have quite forgotten those stamps, my lord!"
"Bless my soul, so I have!" Merehaven exclaimed. "I beg your majesty's pardon. Mazaroff was saying——"
"What Mazaroff was saying will keep," that individual muttered significantly. "There is no hurry; and the mere idea of keeping her majesty waiting——"
He bowed and smiled. It was quite clear toJessie, who was once more outside the window, that the Russian had no idea that anything but accident had postponed his accusation. He was talking to Varney now in the most natural manner. With her hand under his arm the queen had led Merehaven away. Presently Mazaroff made an excuse and followed. Jessie stepped into the room.
"That was a very near thing, my dear," Varney said coolly. "If the queen had not come in——"
"I fetched her," Jessie said. "By great good luck I was by the window at the time. Keep Mazaroff's mouth sealed to-night, and by this time to-morrow, when he is confronted with Vera Galloway, he will see the real Vera and nobody else."
"Then you have been quite successful in your mission?" Varney asked eagerly.
Jessie proceeded to explain, and as she did so Varney's face grew grave. But after all, he reflected, things are not quite so bad as they might be. The enemy was utterly at a loss, and could not possibly know that those papers had vanished.
"You have done wonderfully well between you," Varney said at length. "What was that? I fancied that I saw the shadow of a man lurking in the garden. Just by those mimosa tubs."
Surely enough a shadow flitted along, and somebody began softly whistling a few bars of an opera. Hardly was the first bar on the man's lips beforeanother man dashed forward and struck the whistler to the ground.There was a struggle, the sound of a blow or two, a suggestion of punishment for loafers hanging about there with a felonious intention, and the figure of the first man rose and ran headlong down the garden. In the distance the clang of the wooden door could be heard.