"Did he send any message?"
"Only that his business was of the most urgent," the maid replied.
Louise sighed,--she was really very sleepy. Then, as the thoughts began to crowd into her brain, she began also to remember. Some part of the excitement of a few hours ago returned.
"My bath, Annette, and a dressing-gown," she ordered. "Tell Monsieur Bellamy that I hurry. I will be with him in twenty minutes."
To Bellamy, the twenty minutes were minutes of purgatory. She came at last, however, fresh and eager; her hair tied up with ribbon, she herself clad in a pink dressing-gown and pink slippers.
"David!" she cried,--"my dear David--!"
Then she broke off.
"What is it?" she asked, in a different tone.
He showed her the headlines of the newspaper he was carrying.
"Tragedy!" he answered hoa.r.s.ely. "Von Behrling was true, after all,--at least, it seems so."
"What has happened?" she demanded.
Bellamy pointed once more to the newspaper.
"He was murdered last night, within fifty yards of the place of our rendezvous."
A little exclamation broke from Louise"s lips. She sat down suddenly. The color called into her cheeks by the exercise of her bath was rapidly fading away.
"David," she murmured, "is this true?"
"It is indeed," Bellamy a.s.sured her. "Not only that, but there is no mention of his pocket-book in the account of his murder. It must have been engineered by Streuss and the others, and they have got away with the pocket-book and the money."
"What can we do?" she asked.
"There is nothing to be done," Bellamy declared calmly. "We are defeated. The thing is quite apparent. Von Behrling never succeeded, after all, in shaking off the espionage of the men who were watching him. They tracked him to our rendezvous, they waited about while I met him. Afterwards, he had to pa.s.s along a narrow pa.s.sage. It was there that he was found murdered."
"But, David, I don"t understand! Why did they wait until after he had seen you? How did they know that he had not parted with the paper in the restaurant? To all intents and purposes he ought to have done so."
"I cannot understand that myself," Bellamy admitted. "In fact, it is inexplicable."
She took up the newspaper and glanced at the report. Then, "You are sure, I suppose, that this does refer to Von Behrling? He is quite unidentified, you see."
"There is no doubt about it," Bellamy declared. "I have been to the Mortuary. It is certainly he. All our work has been in vain--just as I thought, too, that we had made a splendid success of it."
She looked at him compa.s.sionately.
"It is hard lines, dear," she admitted. "You are tired, too. You look as though you had been up all night."
"Yes, I am tired," he answered, sinking into a chair. "I am worse than tired. This has been the grossest failure of my career, and I am afraid that it is the end of everything. I have lost twenty thousand pounds of Secret Service money; I have lost the one chance which might have saved England. They will never trust me again."
"You did your best," she said, coming over and sitting on the arm of his chair. "You did your best, David."
She laid her hands upon his forehead, her cheek against his--smooth and cold--exquisitely refreshing it seemed to his jaded nerves.
"Ah, Louise!" he murmured, "life is getting a little too strenuous.
Perhaps we have given too much of it up to others. What do you think?"
She shook her head.
"Dear, I have felt like that sometimes, yet what can we do? Could we be happy, you and I, in exile, if the things which we dread were coming to pa.s.s? Could I go away and hide while my countrymen were being butchered out of existence?-- And you--you are not the sort of man to be content with an ign.o.ble peace. No, it isn"t possible.
Our work may not be over yet--"
There was a knock at the door, and Annette entered with many apologies.
"Mademoiselle," she explained, "a thousand pardons, and to Monsieur also, but there is a gentleman here who says that his business is of the most urgent importance, and that he must see you at once. I have done all that I can, but he will not go away. He knows that Monsieur Bellamy is here, too," she added, turning to him, "and he says his business has to do with Monsieur as well as Mademoiselle."
Bellamy almost s.n.a.t.c.hed the card from the girl"s fingers. He read out the name in blank amazement.
"Baron de Streuss!"
There was a moment"s silence. Louise and he exchanged wondering glances.
"What can this mean?" she asked hoa.r.s.ely.
"Heaven knows!" he answered. "Let us see him together. After all--after all--"
"You can show the gentleman in, Annette," her mistress ordered.
"If he has the papers," Bellamy continued slowly, "why does he come to us? It is not like these men to be vindictive. Diplomacy to them is nothing--a game of chess. I do not understand."
The door opened. Annette announced their visitor. Streuss bowed low to Louise--he bowed, also, to Bellamy.
"I need not introduce myself," he said. "With Mr. Bellamy I have the honor to be well acquainted. Madame is known to all the world."
Louise nodded, somewhat coldly.
"We can dispense with an introduction, I think, Monsieur le Baron,"
she said. "At the same time, you will perhaps explain to what I owe this somewhat unexpected pleasure?"
"Mademoiselle, an explanation there must certainly be. I know that it is an impossible hour. I know, too, that to have forced my presence upon you in this manner may seem discourteous. Yet the urgency of the matter, I am convinced, justifies me."
Louise motioned him to a chair, but he declined with a little bow of thanks.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "and you, Mr. Bellamy, we need not waste words. We have played a game of chess together. You, Mademoiselle, and Mr. Bellamy on the one side--I and my friends upon the other.
The honor of Rudolph Von Behrling was the p.a.w.n for which we fought.
The victory remains with you."
Bellamy never moved a muscle. Louise, on the contrary, could not help a slight start.
"Under the circ.u.mstances," the Baron continued smoothly, "the struggle was uneven. I do myself the justice to remember that from the first I realized that we played a losing game. Mademoiselle,"