Bellamy took her hands in his, gripping them with almost unnatural force.
"Louise," he declared earnestly, "you don"t quite realize Von Behrling"s special weakness and your extraordinary strength. You know that you are beautiful, I suppose, but you do not quite know what that means. I have heard men talk about you till one would think that they were children. You have something of that art or guile--call it what you will--which pa.s.ses from you through a man"s blood to his brain, and carries him indeed to Heaven--but carries him there mad. Louise, don"t be angry with me for what I say. Remember that I know my s.e.x. I know you, too, and I trust you, but you can turn Von Behrling from a sane, honorable man into what you will, without suffering even his lips to touch your fingers. Von Behrling has that packet in his possession. When I come to see you in London, I will bring you twenty thousand pounds in Bank of England notes. With that Von Behrling might fancy himself on his way to America--with you."
She closed her eyes for a moment. Perhaps she wished to keep hidden from him the thoughts which chased one another through her brain.
He wished to make use of her--of her, the woman whom he loved.
Then she remembered that it was for her country and his, and the anger pa.s.sed.
"But I am afraid," she said softly, "that the moment they reach London this doc.u.ment will be taken to the Austrian Emba.s.sy."
"Before then," Bellamy declared, "Von Behrling must not know whether he is in heaven or upon earth. It will not be opened in London.
He can make up another packet to resemble precisely the one of which he robbed Dorward. Oh! it is a difficult game, I know, but it is worth playing. Remember, Louise, that we are not petty conspirators.
It is your country"s very existence that is threatened. It is for her sake as well as for England."
"I shall do my best," she murmured, looking into his face. "Oh, you may be sure that I shall do my best!"
Bellamy raised her fingers to his lips and stole away. The electric lamps had been turned out, but the morning was cloudy and the light dim. Back in his own berth, he put his things together, ready to leave at Munich. Then he rang for the porter.
"I am getting out at the next stop," he announced.
"Very good, Monsieur," the man answered.
Bellamy looked at him closely.
"You are a Frenchman?"
"It is so, Monsieur!"
"I may be wrong," Bellamy continued slowly, "but I believe that if I asked you a question and it concerned some Germans and Austrians you would tell me the truth."
The man"s gesture was inimitable. Englishmen to him were obviously the salt of the earth. Germans and Austrians--why, they existed as the cattle in the fields--nothing more. Bellamy gave him a sovereign.
"There were three Austrians who got in at Vienna," he said. "They are in numbers ten and eleven."
"But yes, Monsieur!" the man a.s.sented. "As yet I think they are fast asleep. Not one of them has rung for his coffee."
"Where are they booked for?"
"For London, Monsieur."
"You do not happen," Bellamy continued, "to have heard them say anything about leaving the train before then?"
"On the contrary, sir," the porter answered, "two of the gentlemen have been inquiring about the boat across to Dover. They were very anxious to travel by a turbine."
Bellamy nodded.
"Thank you very much. You will be so discreet as to forget that I have asked you any questions concerning them. As for me, if one would know, I am on my way to Berlin."
The bell rang. The man looked outside and put his head once more in Bellamy"s coupe.
"It is one of the gentleman who has rung," he declared. "If anything is said about leaving the train, I shall report it at once to Monsieur."
"You will do well," Bellamy answered.
The porter returned in a few moments.
"Two of the gentlemen, sir," he announced, "are undressed and in their pyjamas. They have ordered their breakfast to be served after we leave Munich."
Bellamy nodded.
"Further, sir," the man continued, coming a little closer, "one of them asked me whether the English gentleman--meaning you--was going through to London or not. I told them that you were getting out at the next station and that I thought you were going to Berlin."
"Quite right," Bellamy said. "If they ask any more questions, let me know."
Mademoiselle Idiale, with the aid of one of the two maids who were traveling with her, was able to make a sufficiently effective toilette. At a few minutes before the time for luncheon, she walked down the corridor and recognized Von Behrling, who was sitting with his companions in one of the compartments.
"Ah, it is indeed you, then!" she exclaimed, smiling at him.
He rose to his feet and came out. Tall, with a fair moustache and blue eyes, he was often taken for an Englishman and was inclined to be proud of the fact.
"You have rested well, I trust, Mademoiselle?" he asked, bowing low over her fingers.
"Excellently," replied Louise. "Will you not take me in to luncheon?
The car is full of men and I am not comfortable alone. It is not pleasant, either, to eat with one"s maids."
"I am honored," he declared. "Will you permit me for one moment?"
He turned and spoke to his companions. Louise saw at once that they were protesting vigorously. She saw, too, that Von Behrling only became more obstinate and that he was very nearly angry. She moved a few steps on down the corridor, and stood looking out of the window. He joined her almost immediately.
"Come," he said, "they will be serving luncheon in five minutes.
We will go and take a good place."
"Your friends, I am afraid," she remarked, "did not like your leaving them. They are not very gallant."
"To me it is indifferent," he answered, fiercely twirling his moustache. "Streuss there is an old fool. He has always some fancy in his brain."
Louise raised her eyebrows slightly.
"You are your own master, I suppose," she said. "The Baron is used to command his policemen, and sometimes he forgets. There are many people who find him too autocratic."
"He means well," Von Behrling a.s.serted. "It is his manner only which is against him."
They found a comfortable table, and she sat smiling at him across the white cloth.
"If this is not Sachers," she said, "it is at least more pleasant than lunching alone."
"I can a.s.sure you, Mademoiselle," he declared, with a vigorous twirl of his moustache, "that I find it so."
"Always gallant," she murmured. "Tell me, is it true of you--the news which I heard just before I left Vienna? Have you really resigned your post with the Chancellor?"