CHAPTER XIISMOKED-GLASSESSaidee Isaacs was the first to recover her voice and reason. She seized Fay’s left arm and drew him away from the edge of the cliff. She feared that he might cast himself into the sea.“You shouldn’t have thrown them away,â€� she said quickly. “Chester—you should have looked them over carefully. Perhaps—â€�“I’m done! To think what a fool I’ve been. We’ve both been gulled. It is the end of a wild-goose chase—if ever there was one!â€�She let go of his arm. Her face lifted to his. She saw his eyes flash out and over the sea. A bitter light was in their depths. Defiance flamed there. He squared his shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides.“Come on!â€� he said. “Let’s go inland and find out where we are. We can get a railroad train or something for the north. The country is full of refugees and broken soldiers. No one will notice us. We can go to Stavanger and then to the States.â€�She furrowed her brows and blocked his way by thrusting her body before him.“We mustn’t leave here yet!â€� she declared positively.“You’ve done something you shouldn’t have done. Suppose the key was written on the wrapping paper of that package. Suppose the smoked-glasses were hollow—or something like that. We wouldn’t expect the key to be right out in plain view. I wonder if there is any way to get them back?â€�“Get them back? No! I never want to see them! I’m done—I say! They were ordinary glasses like beggars or blind men buy for a shilling. There was nothing on the wrapper or the box. The whole thing was a hoax—or an accident.â€�“Do you think that the embassy would put such a thing in the inner box of their strongest safe?â€�“They didn’t know what was in the package.â€�“But, Chester, they refused to give it up—either to Germany or to England. They knew it was important. They knew that the commercial war was on. The signing of peace had nothing to do with the dye secrets. They belong to the man who is strong enough and clever enough to get them. You got the key to the whole thing—then threw it away.â€�Fay stared back over the pathway. He hesitated, then turned toward the girl. Her eyes were dark and smoldering. She was very sure of herself. The fire within her had reddened her olive cheeks. Her lips had hardened.“I despise you!â€� she said. “You’re so thoughtless! You overlook the trifles of life. What are we going to say to Sir Richard?â€�“Sir Richard will never find me. You can go back! I’m going to the States. I’m done, I tell you!â€�She realized that he was not to be moved from his declaration.“How deep is the water where you threw the glasses?â€� she asked as he did not move from his position.“Fifty or sixty feet, Saidee. There’s an undertow and tides and waves. It’s no use! Let’s forget the smoked-glasses and go to Stavanger. We’ve got a right to live in this world. Has the Yard any strings on you?â€�She did not answer him. Instead, she stepped to the edge of the cliff and glanced downward. She swayed, braced her foot and stood there in an attitude of thought. Finally she turned and came back to him.Her hand clutched his left arm as she drew him toward the side rocks and a shelter from the wind. She spread her damp skirt and sat down upon a driftwood plank which someone had carried up from the sea. She dropped her face in her hands. He watched her.“Quit that!â€� he said with feeling. “What are you doing—crying?â€�She glanced up swiftly. Her eyes were bright and free from tears. “I’m thinking, Chester,â€� she said, “of a number of things. I’m not like other women—or girls. I can hate and I can despise. I almost hate you, now. Your friends are Sir Richard and MacKeenon. They helped me get you out of Dartmoor. You say they did it for a purpose. Granting that does not change matters. The purpose is a high one. You responded at first. You took their parole and went to Holland. Now, when you may have held the keyto the dye cipher in your hand, you threw it away. You talk of going to Stavanger and to the States. Don’t you realize the obligation you owe to me?â€�Fay shook his head with emphasis. “I realize that the whole thing is up,â€� he said feelingly. “I hate Scotland Yard, now! They sent me on a venture filled with dangers for me, and none for them. They took a chance that the package in the embassy’s safe was the cipher-key. They didn’t know any more about it than I did. It’s proved! Do you think a clever German chemist would have a key hidden in a pair of smoked-glasses? He left them with the embassy for a gull. The true key, if there was one, died with him.â€�“Then Dutch Gus and the others were wrong?â€�Fay raised his brows. “I hadn’t thought of that,â€� he said slowly. “It does look queer. But a pair of smoked-glasses don’t answer the riddle.â€�“You shouldn’t have thrown them into the sea.â€�“You don’t think I was going to take anything like that back to Sir Richard, do you?â€�She rose and stood before him. Her hands were straight down at her sides. Her upturned face was heated and burning. She flashed an inner signal which he did not understand.“I despise you now,â€� she said slowly. “You’re clever and you’re keen-brained and you’re cool-headed, but you overlook the trifles. You have failed a dozen times on account of trifles. You can’t see that little things have vast importance, sometimes. The smoked-glasses were a trifle. You threw them away before Iknew what you were doing. Suppose they turn out to be the cipher-key.â€�Fay drew away from her a step. “Suppose they do,â€� he said. “We can’t ever get them back. Why not quit arguing in a circle and come down to facts? I want you to go to Stavanger with me. I need a pal, who is a sticker. We’ll forget England and what happened there. I’ll never say I was at Dartmoor. I can change my name and live the thing down. I want to get away from the memory of that cell and those guards and the sneaking servants of the law. I want the open places where I can see the stars.â€�She softened her glance perceptibly. He swept her slender form. Her skirt, her shoes, her waist and feather-dragging hat, were all sea-soaked and mist-flattened. Her eyes and the jewels on her fingers alone spoke the Saidee Isaacs of other days.“Come on,â€� he said, snatching up her hand. “There’s a trail inland and a wide world to walk in. Let’s find a hay-mow or barn and go to sleep. We’ll feel better when we wake up. I’m sorry about the glasses, but I hated the thing from the beginning and now I know I was right.â€�She feared to temporize with him. He had one virtue which outweighed his faults. She knew in his heart there was loyalty. He had never been known to turn on a friend.“I still hate you,â€� she said. “I’ll always hate you for what you did with the glasses. Perhaps we can get them. I want to remember this place.â€�Turning, she stared out over the shelf of rock andwidened her eyes for landmarks. There was an island which loomed through the mist. There was an opposite point of dark crags. The inlet at her left hand would be marked on a good chart of that coast.He went on up the pathway and waited for her. His coat was drawn over his body. His cap was pulled far down upon his head. He twisted a button with long white fingers which were slightly stained with oakum. It was the brand of Dartmoor.“We’ll go,â€� he said as she stepped to his side, “over the ridge and down into the lowland. I’m dead for sleep. We better avoid the main roads until I get my senses. Dutch Gus or some of the others of his gang may have landed. They’ll notify the Germans. Come on, Saidee, buck up, and don’t look so doleful!â€�She flushed and followed him. He helped her now and then over the rough places. They came to a cleft in the rock. Through this opening a vista was to be had of a sloping highland which disappeared within the gray mists which rose from a long, straight canal.Fay pointed toward a windmill whose arms were still. A huge barn and hay-rick showed at the junction of two fences. Cattle grazed on the damp grass.“We’ll make that,â€� he said, pointing toward the hay-mow. “I must have sleep—I’m hardly myself.â€�An Airedale, with an erect tail and a burr-clustered hide, came running up to them as they reached the fence. He sniffed at Fay’s coat, then stared at the girl with a wise cant to his head.“He’ll stand watch,â€� said the cracksman. “I’ll bet he thinks we’re refugees from Germany.â€�She twisted her rings and glanced over the farm. There was nobody in sight. A pale feather of smoke rose from a chimney. Pans and churns stood outside the kitchen of a stone house. It was a picture of Holland comfort set in a winding mist.Fay reached the hay-mow and pointed toward an opening. “Crawl in there,â€� he said. “I’ll find another suite. Wake me when you wake. I must have sleep.â€�She laughed almost hysterically. “With these rings?â€� she asked turning toward the farm-house. “Are we safe?â€�“In Holland, yes,â€� yawned Fay, covering his mouth with his right hand. “They don’t lock the doors in this country—an old crook told me who ought to know. Good-night, Saidee!â€�He stooped, patted the dog, then rounded the hay-mow. There was a second opening which had evidently been made by cattle feeding. There were marks of hoofs about it. Fay crawled within the hay, rolled over, covered his face with his arm and started reviewing the events of the day. He dozed with half-thoughts trooping through his brain. He woke, hours later, turned on his side, listened, then backed out from his cramped position. The mist had cleared. The stars were out. A light shone in the farm-house window. The dog was still on guard.Fay rubbed his eyes and rounded the hay-mow.Saidee Isaacs’s shoes were all he saw at first. He seized a foot and shook it gently. She squirmed out to him, sat erect, then glanced back toward the opening.“Get my hat,â€� she said. “I hope you’re satisfied,â€� she added hotly. “I didn’t sleep a wink. I waited for you all afternoon.â€�“Like a good pal,â€� he smiled.“No—like a fool!â€�He shrugged his shoulders. “Politics and crime,â€� he said, “make strange companions. I’m feeling fit, now, and you’re ready to fight. Let’s go on to the nearest town, get some coffee and whatever else they have, then take the trail to Stavanger.â€�“You can go to Stavanger! I’m going to London—first train! I’ve a house there—a motor—and self-respect. If I follow you, I’ll find myself in the—in another hay-mow.â€�He watched her attempts to pin her hat on her head. She jabbed the only remaining hat-pin through the crown at least a score of times. She tightened her lips as she stared at him.“What are you laughing at?â€� she asked suddenly. “It isn’t a bit funny. I’m supposed to have some self-respect. I think I’ve lost it all.â€�Fay crammed his hands deep within his pockets and bent his knees. He shook his head slightly. There was the thin ghost of a smile on his face.“Oh, say now!â€� he said. “It’s better to wake up in a pile of hay than in a stony cell. I thought I was back in Dartmoor till I smelled the clover.â€�She lowered her hands from her hat and stared at her rings. Her fingers strayed over her skirt and finished by a swift brush at the hem. She straightened and tried to return his smile.“I’m hungry!â€� she said savagely. “I’m hungry and I don’t care who knows it. Let’s go to that farm-house and knock. I’ll kill you for this!â€�Fay burst into an uproar of mirth. “Lady Isaacs, and look at you!â€� he retorted. “Suppose Sir Richard should see you now!â€�She glanced at her shoes ruefully. She stamped one foot, then stared at the dog. Her eyes swung upward toward Fay’s lips.“I insist,â€� she said, “that we go to that house and get something to eat. I must wash my hands and brush myself off.â€�“I’ll go, Saidee. You stay right here. It wouldn’t do for both of us to be seen at this time of night. I’ll say I was wrecked on the coast. Then we can go on into some town.â€�Fay swung and started off toward the light in the farm-house. He was preceded by the Airedale, who barked once, leaped up the steps and scratched on the kitchen-door.A broad-faced Hollander of the better sort peered out. To him, Fay offered two shillings for sandwiches. The man was joined by a woman who understood some English. She pressed back the shillings, took command, beckoned Fay inside the neatest kitchen he had ever seen, and there bustled about until a package of food was wrapped up and handed to him.“Thanks,â€� he said, thrusting it under his coat. “I’m a thousand times obliged. Now can you tell me the way to the railroad? Thechemin de fer?â€�“Der Bahnhof?â€� asked the burger in German.“Yes,â€� said Fay. “By all means, yes!â€�The man went to the door, and pointed toward a road which crossed the canal at a sharp angle. His finger steadied in an easterly direction. He glanced at Fay.“I understand,â€� said the cracksman, shifting the bundle of sandwiches under his arm. “That way? I’m much obliged! Thanks, goodfrau,â€� he added gallantly. “I guess there’s queer people knock on Holland doors these days—but none queerer than myself. Good-by!â€�Fay hurried through the gloom. He turned once and saw the couple, who seemed to be childless, standing in the oval light of the open door. At their feet sat the dog, his intelligent head held sideways.Saidee Isaacs was waiting behind the hay-mow. To her, Fay handed the package of sandwiches.“I know the way to the railroad station,â€� he said. “We’ll eat as we walk. We can get something to drink in the canal or a brook. It’s pot luck, Saidee, till we reach civilization.â€�They crossed the canal by a narrow bridge and descended to the eastern bank. A white road showed which struck inland through the mist. Barns and windmills loomed over the top of well-kept hedges. A wagon passed which was drawn by oxen. The sleepy driver turned and watched the unusual vision that had attracted him.Suddenly Fay stopped and stared at the girl. A light shone ahead. A whistle had sounded. A roar was in the air of a train streaking through the night.“I think we can get a train north from there,â€� Fay said, pointing toward the light. “We’ll go to Delfzijl, at the mouth of the Ems, and from there we’ll get a boat to Stavanger or some port in Norway.â€�She glanced back, then turned toward him.“I’ll get a train south,â€� she said. “There is no use arguing. My mind is set!â€�Fay smiled and hooked his right arm within the cove of her own. “You’re coming with me, Saidee,â€� he commanded. “You’re coming for a good reason, too. That sleep did me a world of good. You were right about those glasses. I shouldn’t have thrown them into the sea. There’s something in them—after all.â€�“What do you mean?â€�“I mean that a woman’s intuition was better than a man’s judgment. I thought they were a trifle. Perhaps they were—but there’s a big doubt.â€�“Don’t talk in riddles. What have you discovered?â€�He stared about the road and then pointed toward the light.“We’ll move fast,â€� he said. “We must go to Stavanger and find if Ace-in-the-hole Harry—his right name is Harry Raymond—is there, or if he has taken a boat for the States.â€�She stared at him as if he had gone insane.“I never heard of such a man or such a name. The idea of going to Stavanger to see an individual calledthat! Why, Chester!â€�“That’s right,â€� he said, “jump at conclusions. Now you’re wrong and I was wrong. Ace-in-the-holeHarry is the king of the deep-sea Greeks. He knows more about card manipulation than any man living. He is working the boats and the pigeons and the new flock of commercial travelers who have gold. He can rob a man at poker or at fan-tan. He can deal seconds or hold out three aces. I saw him in the smoking-room of theFlushing, coming over to Holland. From there he was going to Stavanger. I heard him say so.â€�“Do you think I would associate with him?â€�“Yes—when I tell you he wore smoked-glasses exactly like the pair I threw away!â€�She flushed and held herself back. She broke away from him and flashed an arch glance of query.“What do you mean?â€� she asked. “What have his glasses got to do with the cipher-key?â€�“That, I don’t know. All I do know is, there’s something rotten in Holland or Denmark when a man can do what he did with those glasses on. He knew every card. He trimmed a gull without half trying. There’s a connection between the smoked-glasses and the cipher. I’m sure of that now. Will you go with me to Stavanger and help look up Harry Raymond? We can get in a game with him and try to find out how he does it. He’s clever enough to think of most everything.â€�“You should have mentioned that before,â€� she said, grasping his arm. “It is a clue, Chester. I’ll go to Stavanger.â€�The road led through a patch of marshy ground, over a stile, across a rising lea-land, and then upona railroad embankment which stretched north and south as straight as a ruler.Fay studied the rails, then led the way toward the switch-points and an empty goods train which had been shunted from the main line. The tarpaulins of this train were dripping with moisture. The train crew had gone up the metals to the low, stone-built station. A green light gleamed from a signal-arm.“Looks like a way station in Kansas,â€� said Fay as he helped the girl climb to a high platform. “We ought to see a tin-star marshal standing round chewing on a straw.â€�A sleepy-eyed operator was in the office. He raised the tiny frosted window as Fay knocked with his knuckles on the glass. Two of a train crew stirred from the benches in the waiting-room. They sat erect and stared across the gloom.“I want to go to Delfzijl,â€� said Fay to the operator and clerk. “I think you pronounce it that way,â€� he added keenly. “This lady and I must go!â€�A guard lumbered across the room and spoke rapidly in Dutch to the operator. He turned to Fay.“You’ll get a train in one hour,â€� he said in fair English. “The matter will be a simple one, sir. How came you in this part of Holland?â€�“I might ask you the same question,â€� said Fay good-naturedly. “You have the first American voice I’ve heard in some time.â€�“American, no! Alberta, yes,â€� grinned the goods-train guard. “I spent three years in the Canadian wheat countries.â€�Fay booked passage by passing through the tiny window enough British gold to take an entire first-class compartment. He went outside and pulled a low truck within the shelter of the platform. He waited until Saidee Isaacs had seated herself. Then he said:“The game starts, Saidee! I hope we’re on the right scent. I wonder what peculiar property is in the smoked-glasses Harry Raymond wears? They certainly help him win—at cards.â€�“A double glass or something hidden in the lenses,â€� she suggested.“Something hidden, yes!â€� said Fay. “Something hidden—go and find it,â€� he quoted thoughtfully.The goods-train crew, who were evidently awaiting the coming of the north-bound train, stirred finally. They came out yawning, glanced at the two wanderers on the truck, then crossed the tracks in the direction of their train which was headed by a squat, open-cab locomotive.A cone of white fire burst through the fog. A rumble and a whistle echoed over the moorlands. The train came to a grinding pause as Fay grasped Saidee Isaacs by the arm and ran down the station platform in the direction of the single first-class carriage.They stood on the running-board as the train started.Fay jerked a door open and helped the girl inside. She sank back on shiny leather cushions and breathed a long sigh of relief. She was glancing at herself in a mirror when the guard came along for the tickets. Fay asked him concerning the boat which met thetrain. It would be there, the guard explained with many gestures, but its first port of call was Christiansand instead of Stavanger.Fay nodded his head. The guard closed the door. The trip, with Saidee Isaacs huddled into one corner of the compartment, her eyes closed and her hat down over her face, was made without accident. Now and then Fay peered out at the landscape. It was mostly lowland and dykes and the ever-prevailing windmills which seemed so characteristic of Holland.Delfzijl was reached just before dawn, and this allowed ample time to connect with the boat. Fay purchased clean linen and gloves for the girl and himself. They went up the gangplank of theRomsdal—a North Sea and Skagerrack boat with impossible cuisine and soiled cabins.Hurtled northward, the passage took all the day and the better portion of the following night. The few passengers were totally uninteresting. Fay spoke to all of them. He had difficulty in making himself understood. One, only, a commercial traveler out of England, named Fairhold, showed interest in the cracksman’s questions.He boxed the events since the signing of peace like a mariner going over the compass points. He showed the trend of affairs commercial. He dwelt, in his heavy, drawling voice, on traffic and trafficking—on the silent embargo against all things German—on the bitter needs of the North Countries in cotton and rubber and wool.Fay led to the dye question and received a blankstare. The man, who proved to be from Nottingham, did not handle print-goods or calicos or hosiery. Not handling them, he knew nothing about them. He explained confidentially that he was interested solely in brass hair-pins and wire-goods. Fay saw no reason at all for keeping this a deep secret.“That hair-pin drummer,â€� he told Saidee Isaacs as he knocked on the door of her cabin and was admitted, “says there’s a train to Stavanger which goes at daylight. He also declares that the big boats leave Arendal for the States. What shall we do? Perhaps we’ll find Harry Raymond at Arendal instead of Stavanger.â€�“Can we try both?â€� she asked.“I think so. We’ll go to the nearest big port—Arendal. If he isn’t there, we’ll cross Norway during the day and try Stavanger. He had a cockney stall with him. I’d know either man in a million. Harry has a drawl like a music-hall performer. He’s an American crook who apes the English. They always overdo it.â€�She showed him her hat after smiling faintly. The plumes had dried and were presentable. Her ruching was pressed and turned. Her shoes had been touched up with the corner of a towel and some polish supplied by the deck-steward.He studied her hair—blue-black, coiled from right to left—before she placed her hat on her head. Her lashes matched her hair to the fraction-shade. Her olive eyes held the faint suggestion of the Oriental—particularly in their inscrutable droop.“You look splendid!â€� he declared with admiration.“I’m glad you changed your mind about coming north. I think—candidly, we’re going to find out something from Harry Raymond. He won’t talk to me—or tell me anything—but he don’t know you. You have a clever way that’ll get through his guard. Perhaps he’ll play Banker and Broker with you. It’s an easy game to trim a gull with.â€�“Gull?â€� Her brows raised to polite arches of inquiry at the argot.“I mean pigeon,â€� he said, hardly making matters better. “He’ll play you for one, if you act right and don’t overact.â€�“You seem confident that we’ll run across him.â€�“He only works the big ports and the fast boats. He’s sure to be in Arendal or Stavanger. Or else he’s on the ocean.â€�She rose from the bunk and switched out her light. “Let’s go on deck,â€� she said, pressing open the door and glancing out. “There’s the coast of Norway, over there—so the steward says. We’ll soon be in port.â€�Fay leaned over the rail and studied the dark shadow toward which the ship was plunging. He wondered what fortune lay in the path he had chosen.Events moved swiftly enough after the ship docked. Fay called a carriage and was driven rapidly to the railroad station, where he learned that a train would leave within ten minutes for Arendal.Daylight, which came early, was breaking as the tiny locomotive puffed into the great Skagerrack Port where boats could be taken for a score of points—including the States.One huge ship was in sight. Its long row of deck lights had not been extinguished. Lighters were alongside loading coal and a general cargo. A few all-night passengers were standing near the taffrail.“She leaves at sun-down,â€� the station-master told Fay after he had inquired. “You can book passage on Nordland Street.â€�Fay turned toward the girl. “We’ll ride around,â€� he said, “and look over the hotel registers. I’d know our friend Harry’s writing if I ever saw it. There’ll be a Count or a Duke or an M.P. or a mere Lord in front of it. He never played a small game.â€�Their search, carried well into the afternoon, was almost without result. One clerk recalled seeing such a couple as Fay described—a tall Englishman with a monocle or smoked-glasses, and a cockney who wore as many buttons as a coster-monger.The direction which they had taken from the hotel might have been to the railroad station or to the docks. Fay wasted time searching for a definite clue. It was only when the hoarse blare of the great siren on the ship announced its immediate departure that he acted on the last chance.He grasped the girl’s arm and hurried her to the booking-office of the steamship line where a surly clerk had refused to show him the passenger list of theDrammen—the one ship in port.“Two tickets to Stavanger,â€� he said. “I understand theDrammenputs in there.â€� He turned his lapel and showed the silver greyhound.The clerk tossed out two first-class tickets, thenopened the safe for change of the Bank of England note Fay had pressed forward.Ten minutes later they were being rowed out to theDrammen. The landing-stage was being drawn up as the boat rounded a towering stern and swung alongside the rusty plates. The stage dropped with a splash. Fay tossed the boatman some silver coins and assisted the girl up the steep climb. He passed through the rail and found a cabin-steward.“Stavanger!â€� he said commandingly. “Two first-class cabins for that port. I don’t know whether the booking-clerk gave me good cabins—but I want them!â€�The girl followed the steward as the stage came up and the screw thrashed astern. Fay glided forward and glanced into the smoking-room. No one was there. There was no sign of Harry Raymond or his companion on the decks. He searched them all.It was at the captain’s table, during the dinner hour, that there appeared two figures which once seen could never be forgotten. Fay had taken the precaution to interpose a Norwegian traveler between himself and Saidee Isaacs.He coughed and attracted her attention. She lifted a glass of water from the rack and glanced coolly over its edge. She, too, studied the two men who had taken designated seats at the purser’s table.Harry Raymond was resplendent in a Bond Street creation of shepherd plaid and a fancy vest. An insignia dangled from a ribbon across his waist. His eyes were hidden behind a great pair of smoked-glasses. His voice drawled across the dining saloon like a primeminister’s or a cabinet member’s. His companion was the horsey-looking cockney who had aided in trimming the Yorkshire squire on theFlushing.Fay did not glance in their direction during the meal. He rose before Saidee Isaacs had finished eating. He passed to the deck and leaned over the rail at the after end of the boat-deck. Below him was the square block of a hatch crowned with a fan-shaped derrick-mast. Over this mast loomed the jack-staff with the Norwegian Merchant Flag flying.Astern glowed the phosphor of a restless sea divided by the white wake of the ship. The dark coast of Norway showed like a cloud bank on the starboard beam. Fay turned and stared at this highland. Hours passed with him in the same position. Passengers strolled upon the deck. The stewards appeared with steamer chairs and heavy wraps. The twin funnels of the boat flared from the inner fires. The single screw jiggled and thrashed. The stars came out and torched the overhead velvet.Suddenly quick footsteps glided to his side. Saidee Isaacs turned and glanced forward as she laid a hand on his wrist. She closed her fingers and clutched with hot strength.“It’s all right,â€� she whispered without turning her head. “I flirted with him and found out any number of things. He and his companion are going to New York. This ship reaches Stravanger at sun-up. He’s still wearing the smoked-glasses, Chester.â€�“How about a card game?â€�“All fixed, Chester. He’ll start one in a few minutes.He’s invited me to join him at Bridge. My partner will be a stupid Russian with plenty of money. He’s the one who sat next to the captain.â€�“Where do you play?â€�“In the Ladies’ Saloon. There’s a port-hole just over where I’ll insist that Harry Raymond sits. He’s supposed to be the Right Honorable Frederick Lonsdale—this passage.â€�“I’ll be at that port-hole,â€� replied Fay.
Saidee Isaacs was the first to recover her voice and reason. She seized Fay’s left arm and drew him away from the edge of the cliff. She feared that he might cast himself into the sea.
“You shouldn’t have thrown them away,â€� she said quickly. “Chester—you should have looked them over carefully. Perhaps—â€�
“I’m done! To think what a fool I’ve been. We’ve both been gulled. It is the end of a wild-goose chase—if ever there was one!â€�
She let go of his arm. Her face lifted to his. She saw his eyes flash out and over the sea. A bitter light was in their depths. Defiance flamed there. He squared his shoulders and dropped his hands to his sides.
“Come on!� he said. “Let’s go inland and find out where we are. We can get a railroad train or something for the north. The country is full of refugees and broken soldiers. No one will notice us. We can go to Stavanger and then to the States.�
She furrowed her brows and blocked his way by thrusting her body before him.
“We mustn’t leave here yet!â€� she declared positively.“You’ve done something you shouldn’t have done. Suppose the key was written on the wrapping paper of that package. Suppose the smoked-glasses were hollow—or something like that. We wouldn’t expect the key to be right out in plain view. I wonder if there is any way to get them back?â€�
“Get them back? No! I never want to see them! I’m done—I say! They were ordinary glasses like beggars or blind men buy for a shilling. There was nothing on the wrapper or the box. The whole thing was a hoax—or an accident.â€�
“Do you think that the embassy would put such a thing in the inner box of their strongest safe?�
“They didn’t know what was in the package.�
“But, Chester, they refused to give it up—either to Germany or to England. They knew it was important. They knew that the commercial war was on. The signing of peace had nothing to do with the dye secrets. They belong to the man who is strong enough and clever enough to get them. You got the key to the whole thing—then threw it away.â€�
Fay stared back over the pathway. He hesitated, then turned toward the girl. Her eyes were dark and smoldering. She was very sure of herself. The fire within her had reddened her olive cheeks. Her lips had hardened.
“I despise you!� she said. “You’re so thoughtless! You overlook the trifles of life. What are we going to say to Sir Richard?�
“Sir Richard will never find me. You can go back! I’m going to the States. I’m done, I tell you!�
She realized that he was not to be moved from his declaration.
“How deep is the water where you threw the glasses?� she asked as he did not move from his position.
“Fifty or sixty feet, Saidee. There’s an undertow and tides and waves. It’s no use! Let’s forget the smoked-glasses and go to Stavanger. We’ve got a right to live in this world. Has the Yard any strings on you?�
She did not answer him. Instead, she stepped to the edge of the cliff and glanced downward. She swayed, braced her foot and stood there in an attitude of thought. Finally she turned and came back to him.
Her hand clutched his left arm as she drew him toward the side rocks and a shelter from the wind. She spread her damp skirt and sat down upon a driftwood plank which someone had carried up from the sea. She dropped her face in her hands. He watched her.
“Quit that!â€� he said with feeling. “What are you doing—crying?â€�
She glanced up swiftly. Her eyes were bright and free from tears. “I’m thinking, Chester,â€� she said, “of a number of things. I’m not like other women—or girls. I can hate and I can despise. I almost hate you, now. Your friends are Sir Richard and MacKeenon. They helped me get you out of Dartmoor. You say they did it for a purpose. Granting that does not change matters. The purpose is a high one. You responded at first. You took their parole and went to Holland. Now, when you may have held the keyto the dye cipher in your hand, you threw it away. You talk of going to Stavanger and to the States. Don’t you realize the obligation you owe to me?â€�
Fay shook his head with emphasis. “I realize that the whole thing is up,� he said feelingly. “I hate Scotland Yard, now! They sent me on a venture filled with dangers for me, and none for them. They took a chance that the package in the embassy’s safe was the cipher-key. They didn’t know any more about it than I did. It’s proved! Do you think a clever German chemist would have a key hidden in a pair of smoked-glasses? He left them with the embassy for a gull. The true key, if there was one, died with him.�
“Then Dutch Gus and the others were wrong?�
Fay raised his brows. “I hadn’t thought of that,� he said slowly. “It does look queer. But a pair of smoked-glasses don’t answer the riddle.�
“You shouldn’t have thrown them into the sea.�
“You don’t think I was going to take anything like that back to Sir Richard, do you?�
She rose and stood before him. Her hands were straight down at her sides. Her upturned face was heated and burning. She flashed an inner signal which he did not understand.
“I despise you now,� she said slowly. “You’re clever and you’re keen-brained and you’re cool-headed, but you overlook the trifles. You have failed a dozen times on account of trifles. You can’t see that little things have vast importance, sometimes. The smoked-glasses were a trifle. You threw them away before Iknew what you were doing. Suppose they turn out to be the cipher-key.�
Fay drew away from her a step. “Suppose they do,� he said. “We can’t ever get them back. Why not quit arguing in a circle and come down to facts? I want you to go to Stavanger with me. I need a pal, who is a sticker. We’ll forget England and what happened there. I’ll never say I was at Dartmoor. I can change my name and live the thing down. I want to get away from the memory of that cell and those guards and the sneaking servants of the law. I want the open places where I can see the stars.�
She softened her glance perceptibly. He swept her slender form. Her skirt, her shoes, her waist and feather-dragging hat, were all sea-soaked and mist-flattened. Her eyes and the jewels on her fingers alone spoke the Saidee Isaacs of other days.
“Come on,� he said, snatching up her hand. “There’s a trail inland and a wide world to walk in. Let’s find a hay-mow or barn and go to sleep. We’ll feel better when we wake up. I’m sorry about the glasses, but I hated the thing from the beginning and now I know I was right.�
She feared to temporize with him. He had one virtue which outweighed his faults. She knew in his heart there was loyalty. He had never been known to turn on a friend.
“I still hate you,� she said. “I’ll always hate you for what you did with the glasses. Perhaps we can get them. I want to remember this place.�
Turning, she stared out over the shelf of rock andwidened her eyes for landmarks. There was an island which loomed through the mist. There was an opposite point of dark crags. The inlet at her left hand would be marked on a good chart of that coast.
He went on up the pathway and waited for her. His coat was drawn over his body. His cap was pulled far down upon his head. He twisted a button with long white fingers which were slightly stained with oakum. It was the brand of Dartmoor.
“We’ll go,� he said as she stepped to his side, “over the ridge and down into the lowland. I’m dead for sleep. We better avoid the main roads until I get my senses. Dutch Gus or some of the others of his gang may have landed. They’ll notify the Germans. Come on, Saidee, buck up, and don’t look so doleful!�
She flushed and followed him. He helped her now and then over the rough places. They came to a cleft in the rock. Through this opening a vista was to be had of a sloping highland which disappeared within the gray mists which rose from a long, straight canal.
Fay pointed toward a windmill whose arms were still. A huge barn and hay-rick showed at the junction of two fences. Cattle grazed on the damp grass.
“We’ll make that,â€� he said, pointing toward the hay-mow. “I must have sleep—I’m hardly myself.â€�
An Airedale, with an erect tail and a burr-clustered hide, came running up to them as they reached the fence. He sniffed at Fay’s coat, then stared at the girl with a wise cant to his head.
“He’ll stand watch,� said the cracksman. “I’ll bet he thinks we’re refugees from Germany.�
She twisted her rings and glanced over the farm. There was nobody in sight. A pale feather of smoke rose from a chimney. Pans and churns stood outside the kitchen of a stone house. It was a picture of Holland comfort set in a winding mist.
Fay reached the hay-mow and pointed toward an opening. “Crawl in there,� he said. “I’ll find another suite. Wake me when you wake. I must have sleep.�
She laughed almost hysterically. “With these rings?� she asked turning toward the farm-house. “Are we safe?�
“In Holland, yes,â€� yawned Fay, covering his mouth with his right hand. “They don’t lock the doors in this country—an old crook told me who ought to know. Good-night, Saidee!â€�
He stooped, patted the dog, then rounded the hay-mow. There was a second opening which had evidently been made by cattle feeding. There were marks of hoofs about it. Fay crawled within the hay, rolled over, covered his face with his arm and started reviewing the events of the day. He dozed with half-thoughts trooping through his brain. He woke, hours later, turned on his side, listened, then backed out from his cramped position. The mist had cleared. The stars were out. A light shone in the farm-house window. The dog was still on guard.
Fay rubbed his eyes and rounded the hay-mow.
Saidee Isaacs’s shoes were all he saw at first. He seized a foot and shook it gently. She squirmed out to him, sat erect, then glanced back toward the opening.
“Get my hat,� she said. “I hope you’re satisfied,� she added hotly. “I didn’t sleep a wink. I waited for you all afternoon.�
“Like a good pal,� he smiled.
“No—like a fool!â€�
He shrugged his shoulders. “Politics and crime,� he said, “make strange companions. I’m feeling fit, now, and you’re ready to fight. Let’s go on to the nearest town, get some coffee and whatever else they have, then take the trail to Stavanger.�
“You can go to Stavanger! I’m going to London—first train! I’ve a house there—a motor—and self-respect. If I follow you, I’ll find myself in the—in another hay-mow.â€�
He watched her attempts to pin her hat on her head. She jabbed the only remaining hat-pin through the crown at least a score of times. She tightened her lips as she stared at him.
“What are you laughing at?� she asked suddenly. “It isn’t a bit funny. I’m supposed to have some self-respect. I think I’ve lost it all.�
Fay crammed his hands deep within his pockets and bent his knees. He shook his head slightly. There was the thin ghost of a smile on his face.
“Oh, say now!� he said. “It’s better to wake up in a pile of hay than in a stony cell. I thought I was back in Dartmoor till I smelled the clover.�
She lowered her hands from her hat and stared at her rings. Her fingers strayed over her skirt and finished by a swift brush at the hem. She straightened and tried to return his smile.
“I’m hungry!� she said savagely. “I’m hungry and I don’t care who knows it. Let’s go to that farm-house and knock. I’ll kill you for this!�
Fay burst into an uproar of mirth. “Lady Isaacs, and look at you!� he retorted. “Suppose Sir Richard should see you now!�
She glanced at her shoes ruefully. She stamped one foot, then stared at the dog. Her eyes swung upward toward Fay’s lips.
“I insist,� she said, “that we go to that house and get something to eat. I must wash my hands and brush myself off.�
“I’ll go, Saidee. You stay right here. It wouldn’t do for both of us to be seen at this time of night. I’ll say I was wrecked on the coast. Then we can go on into some town.�
Fay swung and started off toward the light in the farm-house. He was preceded by the Airedale, who barked once, leaped up the steps and scratched on the kitchen-door.
A broad-faced Hollander of the better sort peered out. To him, Fay offered two shillings for sandwiches. The man was joined by a woman who understood some English. She pressed back the shillings, took command, beckoned Fay inside the neatest kitchen he had ever seen, and there bustled about until a package of food was wrapped up and handed to him.
“Thanks,� he said, thrusting it under his coat. “I’m a thousand times obliged. Now can you tell me the way to the railroad? Thechemin de fer?�
“Der Bahnhof?� asked the burger in German.
“Yes,� said Fay. “By all means, yes!�
The man went to the door, and pointed toward a road which crossed the canal at a sharp angle. His finger steadied in an easterly direction. He glanced at Fay.
“I understand,â€� said the cracksman, shifting the bundle of sandwiches under his arm. “That way? I’m much obliged! Thanks, goodfrau,â€� he added gallantly. “I guess there’s queer people knock on Holland doors these days—but none queerer than myself. Good-by!â€�
Fay hurried through the gloom. He turned once and saw the couple, who seemed to be childless, standing in the oval light of the open door. At their feet sat the dog, his intelligent head held sideways.
Saidee Isaacs was waiting behind the hay-mow. To her, Fay handed the package of sandwiches.
“I know the way to the railroad station,� he said. “We’ll eat as we walk. We can get something to drink in the canal or a brook. It’s pot luck, Saidee, till we reach civilization.�
They crossed the canal by a narrow bridge and descended to the eastern bank. A white road showed which struck inland through the mist. Barns and windmills loomed over the top of well-kept hedges. A wagon passed which was drawn by oxen. The sleepy driver turned and watched the unusual vision that had attracted him.
Suddenly Fay stopped and stared at the girl. A light shone ahead. A whistle had sounded. A roar was in the air of a train streaking through the night.
“I think we can get a train north from there,� Fay said, pointing toward the light. “We’ll go to Delfzijl, at the mouth of the Ems, and from there we’ll get a boat to Stavanger or some port in Norway.�
She glanced back, then turned toward him.
“I’ll get a train south,� she said. “There is no use arguing. My mind is set!�
Fay smiled and hooked his right arm within the cove of her own. “You’re coming with me, Saidee,â€� he commanded. “You’re coming for a good reason, too. That sleep did me a world of good. You were right about those glasses. I shouldn’t have thrown them into the sea. There’s something in them—after all.â€�
“What do you mean?�
“I mean that a woman’s intuition was better than a man’s judgment. I thought they were a trifle. Perhaps they were—but there’s a big doubt.â€�
“Don’t talk in riddles. What have you discovered?�
He stared about the road and then pointed toward the light.
“We’ll move fast,â€� he said. “We must go to Stavanger and find if Ace-in-the-hole Harry—his right name is Harry Raymond—is there, or if he has taken a boat for the States.â€�
She stared at him as if he had gone insane.
“I never heard of such a man or such a name. The idea of going to Stavanger to see an individual calledthat! Why, Chester!�
“That’s right,� he said, “jump at conclusions. Now you’re wrong and I was wrong. Ace-in-the-holeHarry is the king of the deep-sea Greeks. He knows more about card manipulation than any man living. He is working the boats and the pigeons and the new flock of commercial travelers who have gold. He can rob a man at poker or at fan-tan. He can deal seconds or hold out three aces. I saw him in the smoking-room of theFlushing, coming over to Holland. From there he was going to Stavanger. I heard him say so.�
“Do you think I would associate with him?�
“Yes—when I tell you he wore smoked-glasses exactly like the pair I threw away!â€�
She flushed and held herself back. She broke away from him and flashed an arch glance of query.
“What do you mean?� she asked. “What have his glasses got to do with the cipher-key?�
“That, I don’t know. All I do know is, there’s something rotten in Holland or Denmark when a man can do what he did with those glasses on. He knew every card. He trimmed a gull without half trying. There’s a connection between the smoked-glasses and the cipher. I’m sure of that now. Will you go with me to Stavanger and help look up Harry Raymond? We can get in a game with him and try to find out how he does it. He’s clever enough to think of most everything.�
“You should have mentioned that before,� she said, grasping his arm. “It is a clue, Chester. I’ll go to Stavanger.�
The road led through a patch of marshy ground, over a stile, across a rising lea-land, and then upona railroad embankment which stretched north and south as straight as a ruler.
Fay studied the rails, then led the way toward the switch-points and an empty goods train which had been shunted from the main line. The tarpaulins of this train were dripping with moisture. The train crew had gone up the metals to the low, stone-built station. A green light gleamed from a signal-arm.
“Looks like a way station in Kansas,� said Fay as he helped the girl climb to a high platform. “We ought to see a tin-star marshal standing round chewing on a straw.�
A sleepy-eyed operator was in the office. He raised the tiny frosted window as Fay knocked with his knuckles on the glass. Two of a train crew stirred from the benches in the waiting-room. They sat erect and stared across the gloom.
“I want to go to Delfzijl,� said Fay to the operator and clerk. “I think you pronounce it that way,� he added keenly. “This lady and I must go!�
A guard lumbered across the room and spoke rapidly in Dutch to the operator. He turned to Fay.
“You’ll get a train in one hour,� he said in fair English. “The matter will be a simple one, sir. How came you in this part of Holland?�
“I might ask you the same question,� said Fay good-naturedly. “You have the first American voice I’ve heard in some time.�
“American, no! Alberta, yes,� grinned the goods-train guard. “I spent three years in the Canadian wheat countries.�
Fay booked passage by passing through the tiny window enough British gold to take an entire first-class compartment. He went outside and pulled a low truck within the shelter of the platform. He waited until Saidee Isaacs had seated herself. Then he said:
“The game starts, Saidee! I hope we’re on the right scent. I wonder what peculiar property is in the smoked-glasses Harry Raymond wears? They certainly help him win—at cards.â€�
“A double glass or something hidden in the lenses,� she suggested.
“Something hidden, yes!â€� said Fay. “Something hidden—go and find it,â€� he quoted thoughtfully.
The goods-train crew, who were evidently awaiting the coming of the north-bound train, stirred finally. They came out yawning, glanced at the two wanderers on the truck, then crossed the tracks in the direction of their train which was headed by a squat, open-cab locomotive.
A cone of white fire burst through the fog. A rumble and a whistle echoed over the moorlands. The train came to a grinding pause as Fay grasped Saidee Isaacs by the arm and ran down the station platform in the direction of the single first-class carriage.
They stood on the running-board as the train started.
Fay jerked a door open and helped the girl inside. She sank back on shiny leather cushions and breathed a long sigh of relief. She was glancing at herself in a mirror when the guard came along for the tickets. Fay asked him concerning the boat which met thetrain. It would be there, the guard explained with many gestures, but its first port of call was Christiansand instead of Stavanger.
Fay nodded his head. The guard closed the door. The trip, with Saidee Isaacs huddled into one corner of the compartment, her eyes closed and her hat down over her face, was made without accident. Now and then Fay peered out at the landscape. It was mostly lowland and dykes and the ever-prevailing windmills which seemed so characteristic of Holland.
Delfzijl was reached just before dawn, and this allowed ample time to connect with the boat. Fay purchased clean linen and gloves for the girl and himself. They went up the gangplank of theRomsdal—a North Sea and Skagerrack boat with impossible cuisine and soiled cabins.
Hurtled northward, the passage took all the day and the better portion of the following night. The few passengers were totally uninteresting. Fay spoke to all of them. He had difficulty in making himself understood. One, only, a commercial traveler out of England, named Fairhold, showed interest in the cracksman’s questions.
He boxed the events since the signing of peace like a mariner going over the compass points. He showed the trend of affairs commercial. He dwelt, in his heavy, drawling voice, on traffic and trafficking—on the silent embargo against all things German—on the bitter needs of the North Countries in cotton and rubber and wool.
Fay led to the dye question and received a blankstare. The man, who proved to be from Nottingham, did not handle print-goods or calicos or hosiery. Not handling them, he knew nothing about them. He explained confidentially that he was interested solely in brass hair-pins and wire-goods. Fay saw no reason at all for keeping this a deep secret.
“That hair-pin drummer,� he told Saidee Isaacs as he knocked on the door of her cabin and was admitted, “says there’s a train to Stavanger which goes at daylight. He also declares that the big boats leave Arendal for the States. What shall we do? Perhaps we’ll find Harry Raymond at Arendal instead of Stavanger.�
“Can we try both?� she asked.
“I think so. We’ll go to the nearest big port—Arendal. If he isn’t there, we’ll cross Norway during the day and try Stavanger. He had a cockney stall with him. I’d know either man in a million. Harry has a drawl like a music-hall performer. He’s an American crook who apes the English. They always overdo it.â€�
She showed him her hat after smiling faintly. The plumes had dried and were presentable. Her ruching was pressed and turned. Her shoes had been touched up with the corner of a towel and some polish supplied by the deck-steward.
He studied her hair—blue-black, coiled from right to left—before she placed her hat on her head. Her lashes matched her hair to the fraction-shade. Her olive eyes held the faint suggestion of the Oriental—particularly in their inscrutable droop.
“You look splendid!â€� he declared with admiration.“I’m glad you changed your mind about coming north. I think—candidly, we’re going to find out something from Harry Raymond. He won’t talk to me—or tell me anything—but he don’t know you. You have a clever way that’ll get through his guard. Perhaps he’ll play Banker and Broker with you. It’s an easy game to trim a gull with.â€�
“Gull?� Her brows raised to polite arches of inquiry at the argot.
“I mean pigeon,� he said, hardly making matters better. “He’ll play you for one, if you act right and don’t overact.�
“You seem confident that we’ll run across him.�
“He only works the big ports and the fast boats. He’s sure to be in Arendal or Stavanger. Or else he’s on the ocean.�
She rose from the bunk and switched out her light. “Let’s go on deck,â€� she said, pressing open the door and glancing out. “There’s the coast of Norway, over there—so the steward says. We’ll soon be in port.â€�
Fay leaned over the rail and studied the dark shadow toward which the ship was plunging. He wondered what fortune lay in the path he had chosen.
Events moved swiftly enough after the ship docked. Fay called a carriage and was driven rapidly to the railroad station, where he learned that a train would leave within ten minutes for Arendal.
Daylight, which came early, was breaking as the tiny locomotive puffed into the great Skagerrack Port where boats could be taken for a score of points—including the States.
One huge ship was in sight. Its long row of deck lights had not been extinguished. Lighters were alongside loading coal and a general cargo. A few all-night passengers were standing near the taffrail.
“She leaves at sun-down,� the station-master told Fay after he had inquired. “You can book passage on Nordland Street.�
Fay turned toward the girl. “We’ll ride around,� he said, “and look over the hotel registers. I’d know our friend Harry’s writing if I ever saw it. There’ll be a Count or a Duke or an M.P. or a mere Lord in front of it. He never played a small game.�
Their search, carried well into the afternoon, was almost without result. One clerk recalled seeing such a couple as Fay described—a tall Englishman with a monocle or smoked-glasses, and a cockney who wore as many buttons as a coster-monger.
The direction which they had taken from the hotel might have been to the railroad station or to the docks. Fay wasted time searching for a definite clue. It was only when the hoarse blare of the great siren on the ship announced its immediate departure that he acted on the last chance.
He grasped the girl’s arm and hurried her to the booking-office of the steamship line where a surly clerk had refused to show him the passenger list of theDrammen—the one ship in port.
“Two tickets to Stavanger,� he said. “I understand theDrammenputs in there.� He turned his lapel and showed the silver greyhound.
The clerk tossed out two first-class tickets, thenopened the safe for change of the Bank of England note Fay had pressed forward.
Ten minutes later they were being rowed out to theDrammen. The landing-stage was being drawn up as the boat rounded a towering stern and swung alongside the rusty plates. The stage dropped with a splash. Fay tossed the boatman some silver coins and assisted the girl up the steep climb. He passed through the rail and found a cabin-steward.
“Stavanger!â€� he said commandingly. “Two first-class cabins for that port. I don’t know whether the booking-clerk gave me good cabins—but I want them!â€�
The girl followed the steward as the stage came up and the screw thrashed astern. Fay glided forward and glanced into the smoking-room. No one was there. There was no sign of Harry Raymond or his companion on the decks. He searched them all.
It was at the captain’s table, during the dinner hour, that there appeared two figures which once seen could never be forgotten. Fay had taken the precaution to interpose a Norwegian traveler between himself and Saidee Isaacs.
He coughed and attracted her attention. She lifted a glass of water from the rack and glanced coolly over its edge. She, too, studied the two men who had taken designated seats at the purser’s table.
Harry Raymond was resplendent in a Bond Street creation of shepherd plaid and a fancy vest. An insignia dangled from a ribbon across his waist. His eyes were hidden behind a great pair of smoked-glasses. His voice drawled across the dining saloon like a primeminister’s or a cabinet member’s. His companion was the horsey-looking cockney who had aided in trimming the Yorkshire squire on theFlushing.
Fay did not glance in their direction during the meal. He rose before Saidee Isaacs had finished eating. He passed to the deck and leaned over the rail at the after end of the boat-deck. Below him was the square block of a hatch crowned with a fan-shaped derrick-mast. Over this mast loomed the jack-staff with the Norwegian Merchant Flag flying.
Astern glowed the phosphor of a restless sea divided by the white wake of the ship. The dark coast of Norway showed like a cloud bank on the starboard beam. Fay turned and stared at this highland. Hours passed with him in the same position. Passengers strolled upon the deck. The stewards appeared with steamer chairs and heavy wraps. The twin funnels of the boat flared from the inner fires. The single screw jiggled and thrashed. The stars came out and torched the overhead velvet.
Suddenly quick footsteps glided to his side. Saidee Isaacs turned and glanced forward as she laid a hand on his wrist. She closed her fingers and clutched with hot strength.
“It’s all right,� she whispered without turning her head. “I flirted with him and found out any number of things. He and his companion are going to New York. This ship reaches Stravanger at sun-up. He’s still wearing the smoked-glasses, Chester.�
“How about a card game?�
“All fixed, Chester. He’ll start one in a few minutes.He’s invited me to join him at Bridge. My partner will be a stupid Russian with plenty of money. He’s the one who sat next to the captain.�
“Where do you play?�
“In the Ladies’ Saloon. There’s a port-hole just over where I’ll insist that Harry Raymond sits. He’s supposed to be the Right Honorable Frederick Lonsdale—this passage.â€�
“I’ll be at that port-hole,� replied Fay.