CHAPTER IX. THE PERFIDY OF MISS BROWN
Peter Ruff came down to his office with a single letter in his hand,bearing a French postmark. He returned his secretary's morning greetinga little absently, and seated himself at his desk.
"Violet," he asked, "have you ever been to Paris?"
She looked at him compassionately.
"More times than you, I think, Peter," she answered.
He nodded.
"That," he exclaimed, "is very possible! Could you get ready to leave bythe two-twenty this afternoon?"
"What, alone?" she exclaimed.
"No--with me," he answered.
She shut down her desk with a bang.
"Of course I can!" she exclaimed. "What a spree!"
Then she caught sight of a certain expression on Peter Ruff's face, andshe looked at him wonderingly.
"Is anything wrong, Peter?" she asked.
"No," he answered, "I cannot say that anything is wrong. I have had aninvitation to present myself before a certain society in Paris of whichyou have some indirect knowledge. What the summons means I cannot say."
"Yet you go?" she exclaimed.
"I go," he answered. "I have no choice. If I waited here twenty-fourhours, I should hear of it."
"They can have nothing against you," she said. "On the contrary, theonly time they have appealed for your aid, you gave it--very valuableaid it must have been, too."
Peter Ruff nodded.
"I cannot see," he admitted, "what they can have against me. And yet,somehow, the wording of my invitation seemed to me a little ominous.Perhaps," he added, walking to the window and standing looking out for amoment, "I have a liver this morning. I am depressed. Violet, what doesit mean when you are depressed?"
"Shall you wear your gray clothes for traveling?" she asked, a littleirrelevantly.
"I have not made up my mind," Peter Ruff answered. "I thought of wearingmy brown, with a brown overcoat. What do you suggest?"
"I like you in brown," she answered, simply. "I should change, if I wereyou."
He smiled faintly.
"I believe," he said, "that you have a sort of superstition that as Ichange my clothes I change my humors."
"Should I be so very far wrong?" she asked. "Don't think that I amlaughing at you, Peter. The greatest men in the world have had theirfoibles."
Peter Ruff frowned.
"We shall be away for several days," he said. "Be sure that you takesome wraps. It will be cold, crossing."
"Are you going to close the office altogether?" she asked.
Peter Ruff nodded.
"Put up a notice," he said--"'Back on Friday.' Pack up your books andtake them round to the Bank before you leave. The lift man will call youa taxi-cab."
He watched her preparations with a sort of gloomy calm.
"I wish you'd tell me what is the matter with you?" she asked, as sheturned to follow her belongings.
"I do not know," Peter Ruff said. "I, suppose I am suffering from whatyou would call presentiments. Be at Charing-Cross punctually."
"Why do you go at all?" she asked. "These people are of no further useto you. Only the other day, you were saying that you should not acceptany more outside cases."
"I must go," Peter Ruff answered. "I am not afraid of many things, but Ishould be afraid of disobeying this letter."
They had a comfortable journey down, a cool, bright crossing, and foundtheir places duly reserved for them in the French train. Miss Brown, inher neat traveling clothes and furs, was conscious of looking her best,and she did all that was possible to entertain her traveling companion.But Peter Ruff seemed like a man who labors under some sense ofapprehension. He had faced death more than once during the last fewyears--faced it without flinching, and with a certain cool disregardwhich can only come from the highest sort of courage. Yet he knew, whenhe read over again in the train that brief summons which he was onhis way to obey, that he had passed under the shadow of some new andindefinable fear. He was perfectly well aware, too, that both on thesteamer and on the French train he was carefully shadowed. This fact,however, did not surprise him. He even went out of his way to enter intoconversation with one of the two men whose furtive glances into theircompartment and whose constant proximity had first attracted hisattention. The man was civil but vague. Nevertheless, when they tooktheir places in the dining-car, they found the two men at the nexttable. Peter Ruff pointed them out to his companion.
"'Double-Fours'!" he whispered. "Don't you feel like a criminal?"
She laughed, and they took no more notice of the men. But as thetrain drew near Paris, he felt some return of the depression which hadtroubled him during the earlier part of the day. He felt a sense ofcomfort in his companion's presence which was a thing utterly strange tohim. On the other hand, he was conscious of a certain regret that he hadbrought her with him into an adventure of which he could not foresee theend.
The lights of Paris flashed around them--the train was graduallyslackening speed. Peter Ruff, with a sigh, began to collect theirbelongings.
"Violet," he said, "I ought not to have brought you." Something in hisvoice puzzled her. There had been every few times, during all the yearsshe had known him, when she had been able to detect anything approachingsentiment in his tone--and those few times had been when he had spokenof another woman.
"Why not?" she asked, eagerly.
Peter Ruff looked out into the blackness, through the glittering arcof lights, and perhaps for once he suffered his fancy to build forhim visions of things that were not of earth. If so, however, it was amoment which swiftly passed. His reply was in a tone as matter of factas his usual speech.
"Because," he said, "I do not exactly see the end of my presentexpedition--I do not understand its object."
"You have some apprehension?" she asked.
"None at all," he answered. "Why should I? There is an unwrittenbargain," he added, a little more slowly, "to which I subscribed withour friends here, and I have certainly kept it. In fact, the balance ison my side. There is nothing for me to fear."
The train crept into the Gare du Nord, and they passed through the usualroutine of the Customs House. Then, in an omnibus, they rumbled slowlyover the cobblestones, through the region of barely lit streets anduntidy cafes, down the Rue Lafayette, across the famous Square and intothe Rue de Rivoli.
"Our movements," Peter Ruff remarked dryly, "are too well known forus to attempt to conceal them. We may as well stop at one of the largehotels. It will be more cheerful for you while I am away."
They engaged rooms at the Continental. Miss Brown, whose apartments werein the wing of the hotel overlooking the gardens, ascended at once toher room. Peter Ruff, who had chosen a small suite on the other side,went into the bar for a whiskey and soda. A man touched him on theelbow.
"For Monsieur," he murmured, and vanished.
Peter Ruff turned and opened the note. It bore a faint perfume, it had acoronet upon the flap of the envelope, and it was written in a delicatefeminine handwriting.
DEAR Mr. RUFF:
If you are not too tired with your journey, will you call soon after oneo'clock to meet some old friends?
BLANCHE DE MAUPASSIM.
Peter Ruff drank his whiskey and soda, went up to his rooms, and made acareful toilet. Then he sent a page up for Violet, who came down withina few minutes. She was dressed with apparent simplicity in a high-neckedgown, a large hat, and a single rope of pearls. In place of theusual gold purse, she carried a small white satin bag, exquisitelyhand-painted. Everything about her bespoke that elegant restraint somuch a feature of the Parisian woman of fashion herself. Peter Ruff,who had told her to prepare for supping out, was at first struck bythe simplicity of her attire. Afterwards, he came to appreciate itsperfection.
They went to the Cafe de Paris, where they were the first arrivals.People, however, began to stream in before they had finished theirmeal, and Peter Ruff, comparing his companion's appearance with the moreflamboyant charms of these l
adies from the Opera and the theatres,began to understand the numerous glances of admiration which theimpressionable Frenchmen so often turned in their direction. Therewas between them, toward the end of the meal, something which amountedalmost to nervousness.
"You are going to keep your appointment to-night, Peter?" his companionasked.
Peter Ruff nodded.
"As soon as I have taken you home," he said. "I shall probably returnlate, so we will breakfast here to-morrow morning, if you like, athalf-past twelve. I will send a note to your room when I am ready."
She looked him in the eyes.
"Peter," she said, "supposing that note doesn't come!"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear Violet," he said, "you and I--or rather I, for you are notconcerned in this--live a life which is a little different from thelives of most of the people around us. The million pay their taxes, andthey expect police protection in times of danger. For me there isno such resource. My life has its own splendid compensations. I haveweapons with which to fight any ordinary danger. What I want to explainto you is this--that if you hear no more of me, you can do nothing. Ifthat note does not come to you in the morning, you can do nothing. Waithere for three days, and after that go back to England. You will find aletter on your desk, telling you there exactly what to do."
"You have something in your mind," she said, "of which you have not toldme."
"I have nothing," he answered, firmly. "Upon my honor, I know of nopossible cause of offense which our friends could have against me. Theirsummons is, I will admit, somewhat extraordinary, but I go to obeyit absolutely without fear. You can sleep well, Violet. We lunch hereto-morrow, without a doubt."
They drove back to the hotel almost in silence. Violet was lookingfixedly out of the window of the taxicab, as though interested inwatching the crowds upon the street. Peter Ruff appeared to be absorbedin his own thoughts. Yet perhaps they were both of them nearer toone another than either surmised. Their parting in the hall of theContinental Hotel was unemotional enough. For a moment Peter Ruff hadhesitated while her hand had lain in his. He had opened his lips asthough he had something to say. Her eyes grew suddenly softer--seemed toseek his as though begging for those unspoken words. But Peter Ruff didnot say them then.
"I shall be back all right," he said. "Good night, Violet! Sleep well!"
He turned back towards the waiting taxicab.
"Number 16, Rue de St. Quintaine," he told the man. It was not a longride. In less than a quarter of an hour, Peter Ruff presented himselfbefore a handsome white house in a quiet, aristocratic-looking street.At his summons, the postern door flew open, and a man-servant in plainlivery stood at the second entrance.
"Madame la Marquise?" Peter Ruff asked.
The man bowed in silence, and took the visitor's hat and overcoat. Hepassed along a spacious hall and into a delightfully furnished receptionroom, where an old lady with gray hair sat in the midst of a littlecircle of men. Peter Ruff stood, for a moment, upon the threshold,looking around him. She held out her hands.
"It is Monsieur Peter Ruff, is it not? At last, then, I am gratified. Ihave wished for so long to see one who has become so famous."
Peter Ruff took her hands in his and raised them gallantly to his lips.
"Madame," he said, "this is a pleasure indeed. At my last visit here,you were in Italy."
"I grow old," she answered. "I leave Paris but little now. Where one haslived, one should at least be content to die."
"Madame speaks a philosophy," Peter Ruff answered, "which as yet she hasno need to learn."
The old lady turned to a man who stood upon her right:
"And this from an Englishman!" she exclaimed.
There were others who took Peter Ruff by the hand then. The servantswere handing round coffee in little Sevres cups. On the sideboard wasa choice of liqueurs and bottles of wine. Peter Ruff found himselfhospitably entertained with both small talk and refreshments. But everynow and then his eyes wandered back to where Madame sat in her chair,her hair as white as snow--beautiful still, in spite of the cruel mouthand the narrow eyes.
"She is wonderful!" he murmured to a man who stood by his side.
"She is eighty-six," was the answer in a whisper, "and she knowseverything."
As the clock struck two, a tall footman entered the room and wheeledMadame's chair away. Several of the guests left at the same time. Ruff,when the door was closed, counted those who remained. As he had imaginedwould be the case, he found that there were eight.
A tall, gray-bearded man, who from the first had attached himself toRuff, and who seemed to act as a sort of master of ceremonies, nowapproached him once more and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
"Mon ami," he said, "we will now discuss, if it pleases you, the littlematter concerning which we took the liberty of asking you to favor uswith a visit."
"What, here?" Peter Ruff asked, in some surprise.
His friend, who had introduced himself as Monsieur de Founcelles,smiled.
"But why not?" he asked. "Ah, but I think I understand!" he added,almost immediately. "You are English, Monsieur Peter Ruff, and in somerespects you have not moved with the times. Confess, now, that your ideaof a secret society is a collection of strangely attired men who meet ina cellar, and build subterranean passages in case of surprise. In Paris,I think, we have gone beyond that sort of thing. We of the 'Double-Four'have no headquarters save the drawing-room of Madame; no hiding-placeswhatsoever; no meeting-places save the fashionable cafes or our ownreception rooms. The police follow us--what can they discover?--nothing!What is there to discover?--nothing! Our lives are lived before the eyesof all Paris. There is never any suspicion of mystery about any of ourmovements. We have our hobbies, and we indulge in them. Monsieur theMarquis de Sogrange here is a great sportsman. Monsieur le Comteowns many racehorses. I myself am an authority on pictures, and own acollection which I have bequeathed to the State. Paris knows us well asmen of fashion and mark--Paris does not guess that we have perfectedan organization so wonderful that the whole criminal world pays toll tous."
"Dear me," Peter Ruff said, "this is very interesting!"
"We have a trained army at our disposal," Monsieur de Founcellescontinued, "who numerically, as well as in intelligence, outnumber thewhole force of gendarmes in Paris. No criminal from any other countrycan settle down here and hope for success, unless he joins us. Anexploit which is inspired by us cannot fail. Our agents may count on ourprotection, and receive it without question."
"I am bewildered," Peter Ruff said, frankly. "I do not understand howyou gentlemen--whom one knows by name so well as patrons of sport andsociety, can spare the time for affairs of such importance."
Monsieur de Founcelles nodded.
"We have very valuable aid," he said. "There is below us--the'Double-Four'--the eight gentlemen now present, an executive councilcomposed of five of the shrewdest men in France. They take their ordersfrom us. We plan, and they obey. We have imagination, and specialsources of knowledge. They have the most perfect machinery for carryingout our schemes that it is possible to imagine. I do not wish to boast,Mr. Ruff, but if I take a directory of Paris and place after any man'sname, whatever his standing or estate, a black cross, that man diesbefore seven days have passed. You buy your evening paper--a manhas committed suicide! You read of a letter found by his side: anunfortunate love affair--a tale of jealousy or reckless speculation. Mr.Ruff, the majority of these explanations are false. They are inventedand arranged for by us. This year alone, five men in Paris, of position,have been found dead, and accounted, for excellent reasons, suicides.In each one of these cases, Monsieur Ruff, although not a soul hasa suspicion of it, the removal of these men was arranged for by the'Double-Four.'"
"I trust," Peter Ruff said, "that it may never be my ill-fortune toincur the displeasure of so marvelous an association."
"On the contrary, Monsieur Ruff," the other answered, "the attentionof the association has been directed towards certain
incidents of yourcareer in a most favorable manner. We have spoken of you often lately,Mr. Ruff, between ourselves. We arrive now at the object for which webegged the honor of your visit. It is to offer you the Presidency of ourExecutive Council."
Peter Ruff had thought of many things, but he had not thought of this!He gasped, recovered himself, and realized at once the dangers of theposition in which he stood.
"The Council of Five!" he said thoughtfully.
"Precisely," Monsieur de Founcelles replied. "The salary--forgive mefor giving such prominence to a matter which you doubtless consider ofsecondary importance--is ten thousand pounds a year, with a residencehere and in London--also servants."
"It is princely!" Peter Ruff declared. "I cannot imagine, Monsieur, howyou could have believed me capable of filling such a position."
"There is not much about you, Mr. Ruff, which we do not know," Monsieurde Founcelles answered. "There are points about your career whichwe have marked with admiration. Your work over here was rapid andcomprehensive. We know all about your checkmating the Count von Hern andthe Comtesse de Pilitz. We have appealed to you for aid once only--yourresponse was prompt and brilliant. You have all the qualifications wedesire. You are still young, physically you are sound, you speak alllanguages, and you are unmarried."
"I am what?" Peter Ruff asked, with a start.
"A bachelor," Monsieur de Founcelles answered. "We who have madecrime and its detection a life-long study, have reduced many mattersconcerning it to almost mathematical exactitude. Of one thing we havebecome absolutely convinced--it is that the great majority of cases inwhich the police triumph are due to the treachery of women. The criminalwho steers clear of the other sex escapes a greater danger than thedetectives who dog his heels. It is for that reason that we choose onlyunmarried men for our executive council."
Peter Ruff made a gesture of despair. "And I am to be married in amonth!" he exclaimed.
There was a murmur of dismay. If those other seven men had not onceintervened, it was because the conduct of the affair had been voted intothe hands of Monsieur de Founcelles, and there was little which he hadleft unsaid. Nevertheless, they had formed a little circle around thetwo men. Every word passing between them had been listened to eagerly.Gestures and murmured exclamations had been frequent enough. Therearose now a chorus of voices which their leader had some difficulty insilencing.
"It must be arranged!"
"But it is impossible--this!"
"Monsieur Ruff amuses himself with us!"
"Gentlemen," Peter Ruff said, "I can assure you that I do nothing ofthe sort. The affair was arranged some months ago, and the young lady iseven now in Paris, purchasing her trousseau."
Monsieur de Founcelles, with a wave of the hand, commanded silence.There was probably a way out. In any case, one must be found.
"Monsieur Ruff," he said, "putting aside, for one moment, your sense ofhonor, which of course forbids you even to consider the possibilityof breaking your word--supposing that the young lady herself shouldwithdraw--"
"You don't know Miss Brown!" Peter Ruff interrupted. "It is a pleasureto which I hope to attain," Monsieur de Founcelles declared, smoothly."Let us consider once more my proposition. I take it for granted that,apart from this threatened complication, you find it agreeable?"
"I am deeply honored by it," Peter Ruff declared.
"Well, that being so," Monsieur de Founcelles said, more cheerfully,"we must see whether we cannot help you. Tell me, who is this fortunateyoung lady--this Miss Brown?"
"She is a young person of good birth and some means," Peter Ruffdeclared. "She is, in a small way, an actress; she has also been mysecretary from the first." Monsieur de Founcelles nodded his headthoughtfully.
"Ah!" he said. "She knows your secrets, then, I presume?"
"She does," Peter Ruff assented. "She knows a great deal!"
"A young person to be conciliated by all means," Monsieur de Founcellesdeclared. "Well, we must see. When, Monsieur Ruff, may I have theopportunity of making the acquaintance of this young lady?"
"To-morrow morning, or rather this morning, if you will," Peter Ruffanswered. "We are taking breakfast together at the cafe de Paris. Itwill give me great pleasure if you will join us."
"On the contrary," Monsieur de Founcelles declared, "I must beg of youslightly to alter your plans. I will ask you and Mademoiselle to do methe honor of breakfasting at the Ritz with the Marquis de Sogrange andmyself, at the same hour. We shall find there more opportunity for ashort discussion."
"I am entirely at your service," Peter Ruff answered. There were signsnow of a breaking-up of the little party.
"We must all regret, dear Monsieur Ruff," Monsieur de Founcelles said,as he made his adieux, "this temporary obstruction to the consummationof our hopes. Let us pray that Mademoiselle will not be unreasonable."
"You are very kind," Peter Ruff murmured.
Peter Ruff drove through the gray dawn to his hotel, in the splendidautomobile of Monsieur de Founcelles, whose homeward route lay inthat direction. It was four o'clock when he accepted his key from asleepy-looking clerk, and turned towards the staircase. The hotel waswrapped in semi-gloom. Sweepers and cleaners were at work. The palms hadbeen turned out into the courtyard. Dust sheets lay over the furniture.One person only, save himself and the untidy-looking servants, wasastir. From a distant corner which commanded the entrance, he saw Violetstealing away to the corridor which led to her part of the hotel. Shehad sat there all through the night to see him come in--to be assured ofhis safety! Peter Ruff stared after her disappearing figure as one mighthave watched a ghost.
The luncheon-party was a great success. Peter Ruff was human enough tobe proud of his companion--proud of her smartness, which was indubitableeven here, surrounded as they were by Frenchwomen of the best class;proud of her accent, of the admiration which she obviously excitedin the two Frenchmen. His earlier enjoyment of the meal was a littleclouded from the fact that he felt himself utterly outshone in thematter of general appearance. No tailor had ever suggested to him a coatso daring and yet so perfect as that which adorned the person of theMarquis de Sogrange. The deep violet of his tie was a shade unknownin Bond Street--inimitable--a true education in color. They had thebearing, too, these Frenchmen! He watched Monsieur de Founcelles bendingover Violet, and he was suddenly conscious of a wholly new sensation. Hedid not recognize--could not even classify it. He only knew that it wasnot altogether pleasant, and that it set the warm blood tingling throughhis veins.
It was not until they were sitting out in the winter garden, takingtheir coffee and liqueurs, that the object of their meeting was referredto. Then Monsieur de Founcelles drew Violet a little away from theothers, and the Marquis, with a meaning smile, took Peter Ruff's arm andled him on one side. Monsieur de Founcelles wasted no words at all.
"Mademoiselle," he said, "Monsieur Ruff has doubtless told you that lastnight I made him the offer of a great position among us."
She looked at him with twinkling eyes.
"Go on, please," she said.
"I offered him a position of great dignity--of great responsibility,"Monsieur de Founcelles continued. "I cannot explain to you its exactnature, but it is in connection with the most wonderful organization ofits sort which the world has ever known."
"The 'Double-Four,'" she murmured.
"Attached to the post is a princely salary and but one condition,"Monsieur de Founcelles said, watching the girl's face. "The condition isthat Mr. Ruff remains a bachelor."
Violet nodded.
"Peter's told me all this," she remarked. "He wants me to give him up."
Monsieur de Founcelles drew a little closer to his companion. There wasa peculiar smile upon his lips.
"My dear young lady," he said softly, "forgive me if I point out to youthat with your appearance and gifts a marriage with our excellent friendis surely not the summit of your ambitions! Here in Paris, I promiseyou, here--we can do much better than that for you. You have not,perhaps, a d
ot? Good! That is our affair. Give up our friend here, andwe deposit in any bank you like to name the sum of two hundred and fiftythousand francs."
"Two hundred and fifty thousand francs!" Violet repeated, slowly.
Monsieur de Founcelles nodded.
"It is enough?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"It is not enough," she answered.
Monsieur de Founcelles raised his eyebrows.
"We do not bargain," he said coldly, "and money is not the chief thingin the world. It is for you, then, to name a sum."
"Monsieur de Founcelles," she said, "can you tell me the amount of thenational debt of France?"
"Somewhere about nine hundred million francs, I believe," he answered.
She nodded.
"That is exactly my price," she declared.
"For giving up Peter Ruff?" he gasped.
She looked at her employer thoughtfully.
"He doesn't look worth it, does he?" she said, with a queer littlesmile. "I happen to care for him, though--that's all."
Monsieur de Founcelles shrugged his shoulders. He knew men and women,and for the present he accepted defeat. He sighed heavily.
"I congratulate our friend, and I envy him," he said. "If ever youshould change your mind, Mademoiselle--"
"It is our privilege, isn't it?" she remarked, with a brilliant smile."If I do, I shall certainly let you know."
On the way home, Peter Ruff was genial--Miss Brown silent. He hadescaped from a difficult position, and his sense of gratitude toward hiscompanion was strong. He showed her many little attentions on thevoyage which sometimes escaped him. From Dover, they had a carriage tothemselves.
"Peter," Miss Brown said, after he had made her comfortable, "when is itto be?"
"When is what to be?" he asked, puzzled.
"Our marriage," she answered, looking at him for a moment in mostbewildering fashion and then suddenly dropping her eyes.
Peter Ruff returned her gaze in blank amazement.
"What do you mean, Violet?" he exclaimed.
"Just what I say," she answered, composedly. "When are we going to bemarried?"
Peter Ruff frowned.
"What nonsense!" he said. "We are not going to be married. You know thatquite well."
"Oh, no, I don't!" she declared, smiling at him in a heavenly fashion."At your request I have told Monsieur de Founcelles that we wereengaged. Incidentally, I have refused two hundred and fifty thousandfrancs and, I believe, an admirer, for your sake. I declared that I wasgoing to marry you, and I must keep my word."
Peter Ruff began to feel giddy.
"Look here, Violet," he said, "you know very well that we arranged allthat between ourselves."
"Arranged all that?" she repeated, with a little laugh. "Perhaps we did.You asked me to marry you, and you posed as my fiancee. You kept it upjust as long as you--it suits me to keep it up a little longer."
"Do you mean to say--do you seriously mean that you expect me to marryyou?" he asked, aghast.
"I do," she admitted. "I have meant you to for some time, Peter!"
She was very alluring, and Peter Ruff hesitated. She held out her handsand leaned towards him. Her muff fell to the floor. She had raised herveil, and a faint perfume of violets stole into the carriage. Her lipswere a little parted, her eyes were saying unutterable things.
"You don't want me to sue you, do you, Peter?" she murmured.
Peter Ruff sighed--and yielded.