21 Greatest Spy Thrillers in One Premium Edition (Mystery & Espionage Series). E. Phillips Oppenheim
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man bowed and withdrew. Louise came to him almost directly from an inner chamber. She was wearing a loose gown, but the fatigue of her journey seemed already to have passed away. Her eyes were bright, and a faint color glowed in her cheeks.
“David,” she exclaimed, “thank Heaven that you are here!”
She took both his hands and held them for a moment. Then she walked to the door, made sure that it was securely fastened, and stood there listening for a moment.
“I suppose I am foolish,” she said, coming back to him, “and yet I cannot help fancying that I am being watched on every side since we landed in England. I detest my new manager, and I don’t trust any of the servants he has engaged for me. You got my note?”
“Yes,” he answered, “I had your note—and I am here.”
The restraint of his manner was obvious. He was standing a little away from her. She came suddenly up to him, her hands fell upon his shoulders, her face was upturned to his. Even then he made no motion to embrace her.
“David,” she whispered softly, “what I am doing—what I have done—was at your suggestion. I do it for you, I do it for my country, I do it against every natural feeling I possess. I hate and loathe the lies I tell. Are you remembering that? Is it in your heart at this moment?”
He stooped and kissed her.
“Forgive me,” he said, “it is I who am to blame, but I am only human. We play for great stakes, Louise, but sometimes one forgets.”
“As I live,” she murmured, “the kiss you gave me last is still upon my lips. What I have promised goes for nothing. What he has promised is this—the papers to-night.”
“Unopened?”
“Unopened,” she repeated, softly.
“But how is it to be done?” Bellamy asked. “He must have arrived in London when you did last night. How is it they are not already at the Embassy?”
“The Ambassador was commanded to Cowes,” she explained. “He cannot be back until late to-night. No one else has a key to the treaty safe, and Von Behrling declined to give up the document to any one save the Ambassador himself.”
Bellamy nodded.
“What about Streuss?”
“Streuss and the others are all furious,” Louise said. “Yet, after all, Behrling has a certain measure of right on his side. His orders were to see with his own eyes this envelope deposited in the safe by the Ambassador himself.”
“He returns to-night!” Bellamy exclaimed quickly.
She nodded.
“Before he comes,” she declared, “I think that the document will be in your hands.”
“How is it to be done?”
“The report is written,” she explained, “on five pages of foolscap. They are contained in a long envelope, scaled with the Chancellor’s crest. Von Behrling, being one of the family, has the same crest. He has prepared another envelope, the same size and weight, and signed it with his seal. It is this which he will hand over to the Ambassador if he should return unexpectedly. The real one he has concealed.”
“Is he here?” Bellamy inquired.
“Thank Heavens, no!” she answered. “My dear David, what are you thinking of? He is not here and he dare not come here. You are to go to your rooms,” she added, glancing at the clock, “and between five and six o’clock this evening you will be rung up on the telephone. A rendezvous will be given you for later on to-night. You must take the money there and receive the packet. Von Behrling will be disguised and prepared for flight.”
Bellamy’s eyes glowed.
“You believe this?” he exclaimed.
“I believe it,” she replied. “He is going to do it. After he has seen you, he will make his way to Plymouth. I have promised—don’t look at me, David—I have promised to join him there.”
Bellamy was grave.
“There will be trouble,” he said. “He will come back. He will want to shoot you. He may be slow-witted in some things, but he is passionate.”
“Am I a coward?” she asked, with a scornful laugh. “Have I ever shown fear of my life? No, David! It is not that of which I am afraid. It is the memory of the man’s touch, it is the look which was in your face when you came into the room. These are the things I fear—not death.”
Bellamy drew her into his arms and kissed her.
“Forgive me,” he begged. “At such times a man is a weak thing—a weak and selfish thing. I am ashamed of myself. I should have known better than to have doubted you for a moment. I know you so well, Louise. I know what you are.”
She smiled.
“Dear,” she said, “you have made me happy. And now you must go away. Remember that these few minutes are only an interlude. Over here I am Mademoiselle Idiale who sings to-night at Covent Garden. See my roses. There are two rooms full of reporters and photographers in the place now. The leader of the orchestra is in my bedroom, and two of the directors are drinking whiskies and sodas with this new manager of mine in the dining-room. Between five and six o’clock this afternoon you will get the message. It is somewhere, I think, in the city that you will have to go. There will be no trouble about the money? Nothing but notes or gold will be of any use.”
“I have it in my pocket,” he answered. “I have it in notes, but he need never fear that they will be traced. The numbers of notes given for Secret Service purposes are expunged from every one’s memory.”
She drew a little sigh.
“It is a great sum,” she said. “After all, he should be grateful to me. If only he would be sensible and get away to the United States or to South America! He could live there like a prince, poor fellow. He would be far happier.”
“I only hope that he will go,” Bellamy agreed. “There is one thing to be remembered. If he does not go, if he stays for twenty-four hours in this country, I do not believe that he will live to do you harm. The men who are with him are not the sort to stop short at trifles. Besides Streuss and Kahn, they have a regular army of spies at their bidding here. If they find out that he has tricked them, they will hunt him down, and before long.”
Louise shivered.
“Oh, I hope,” she exclaimed, “that he gets away! He is a traitor, of course, but he is a traitor to a hateful cause, and, after all, I think it is less for the money than for my sake that he does it. That sounds very conceited, I suppose,” she added, with a faint smile. “Ah! well, you see, for five years so many have been trying to turn my head. No wonder if I begin to believe some of their stories. David, I must go. I must not keep Dr. Henschell waiting any longer.”
“To-morrow,” he said, “to-morrow early I shall come. I am afraid I shall miss your first appearance in England, Louise.”
The sound of a violin came floating out from the inner room.
“That is my signal,” she declared smiling. “De. Henschell was almost beside himself that I came away. I come, Doctor,” she called out. “David, good fortune!” she added, giving him her hands. “Now go, dear.”
VIII. THE HAND OF MISFORTUNE
Between the two men, seated opposite each other in the large but somewhat barely furnished office, the radical differences, both in appearance and mannerisms, perhaps, also, in disposition, had never been more strongly evident. They were partners in business and face to face with ruin. Stephen Laverick, senior member of the firm, although an air of steadfast gloom