CHAPTER III. THE AMBASSADOR'S WIFE
Alone in his study, with fast-locked door, Peter, Baron de Grost, satreading, word by word, with zealous care the despatch from Paris whichhad just been delivered into his hands. From the splendid suite ofreception rooms which occupied the whole of the left-hand side of thehall came the faint sound of music. The street outside was filledwith automobiles and carriages setting down their guests. Madame wasreceiving to-night a gathering of very distinguished men and women, andit was only for a few moments, and on very urgent business indeed, thather husband had dared to leave her side.
The room in which he sat was in darkness except for the single heavilyshaded electric lamp which stood by his elbow. Nevertheless, there wassufficient illumination to show that Peter had achieved one, at least,of his ambitions. He was wearing court dress, with immaculate black silkstockings and diamond buckles upon his shoes. A red ribbon was inhis buttonhole and a French order hung from his neck. His passion forclothes was certainly amply ministered to by the exigencies of his newposition. Once more he read those last few words of this unexpectedlyreceived despatch, read them with a frown upon his forehead and thelight of trouble in his eyes. For three months he had done nothing butlive the life of an ordinary man of fashion and wealth. His first task,for which, to tell the truth, he had been anxiously waiting, was herebefore him, and he found it little to his liking. Again, he read slowlyto himself the last paragraph of Sogrange's.
As ever, dear friend, one of the greatest sayings which the men of myrace have ever perpetrated once more justifies itself--"Cherchez lafemme!" Of Monsieur we have no manner of doubt. We have tested him inevery way. And to all appearance Madame should also be above suspicion.Yet those things of which I have spoken have happened. For two hoursthis morning I was closeted with Picon here. Very reluctantly he hasplaced the matter in my hands. I pass it on to you. It is your firstundertaking, cher Baron, and I wish you bon fortune. A man of gallantry,as I know you are, you may regret that it should be a woman, and abeautiful woman, too, against whom the finger must be pointed. Yet,after all, the fates are strong and the task is yours.
SOGRANGE.
The music from the reception rooms grew louder and more insistent.Peter rose to his feet, and moving to the fireplace, struck a matchand carefully destroyed the letter which he had been reading. Then hestraightened himself, glanced for a moment at the mirror, and left theroom to join his guests.
"Monsieur le Baron jests," the lady murmured.
The Baron de Grost shook his head.
"Indeed, no, Madame!" he answered earnestly. "France has offered usnothing more delightful in the whole history of our entente than theloan of yourself and your brilliant husband. Monsieur de Lamborne makeshistory among us politically, while Madame--"
The Baron sighed, and his companion leaned a little towards him; herdark eyes were full of sentimental regard.
"Yes?" she murmured. "Continue. It is my wish."
"I am the good friend of Monsieur de Lamborne," the Baron said, and inhis tone there seemed to lurk some far-away touch of regret, "yet Madameknows that her conquests here have been many."
The Ambassador's wife fanned herself and remained silent for a moment,a faint smile playing at the corners of her full, curving lips. Shewas, indeed, a very beautiful woman--elegant, a Parisienne to thefinger-tips, with pale cheeks, but eyes dark and soft, eyes trained toher service, whose flash was an inspiration, whose very droop had setbeating the hearts of men less susceptible than the Baron de Grost. Hergown was magnificent, of amber satin, a color daring, but splendid; theoutline of her figure, as she leaned slightly back in her seat, mightindeed have been traced by the inspired finger of some great sculptor.De Grost, whose reputation as a man of gallantry was well established,felt the whole charm of her presence--felt, too, the subtle indicationsof preference which she seemed inclined to accord to him. There wasnothing which eyes could say which hers were not saying during those fewminutes. The Baron, indeed, glanced around a little nervously. His wifehad still her moments of unreasonableness; it was just as well thatshe was engaged with some of her guests at the farther end of theapartments.
"You are trying to turn my head," his beautiful companion whispered."You flatter me."
"It is not possible," he answered.
Again the fan fluttered for a moment before her face. She sighed.
"Ah. Monsieur!" she continued, dropping her voice until it scarcelyrose above a whisper, "there are not many men like you. You speak of myhusband and his political gifts. Yet what, after all, do they amount to?What is his position, indeed, if one glanced behind the scenes, comparedwith yours?"
The face of the Baron de Grost became like a mask. It was as thoughsuddenly he had felt the thrill of danger close at hand, danger even inthat scented atmosphere wherein he sat.
"Alas, Madame!" he answered, "it is you, now, who are pleased to jest.Your husband is a great and powerful ambassador. I, unfortunately, haveno career, no place in life save the place which the possession of a fewmillions gives to a successful financier."
She laughed very softly, and again her eyes spoke to him. "Monsieur,"she murmured, "you and I together could make a great alliance, is it notso?"
"Madame," he faltered, doubtfully, "if one dared hope--"
Once more the fire of her eyes, this time not only voluptuous. Was theman stupid, she wondered, or only cautious?
"If that alliance were once concluded," she said, softly, "one mighthope for everything."
"If it rests only with me," he began, seriously, "oh, Madame!"
He seemed overcome. Madame was gracious, but was he really stupid oronly very much in earnest?
"To be one of the world's money kings," she whispered, "it iswonderful--that. It is power--supreme, absolute power. There is nothingbeyond, there is nothing greater."
Then the Baron, who was watching her closely, caught another gleam inher eyes, and he began to understand. He had seen it before among acertain type of her countrywomen--the greed of money. He looked ather jewels and he remembered that, for an ambassador, her husband wasreputed to be a poor man. The cloud of misgiving passed away from him;he settled down to the game.
"If money could only buy the desire of one's heart," he murmured."Alas!"
His eyes seemed to seek out Monsieur de Lamborne among the movingthrongs. She laughed softly, and her hand brushed his.
"Money and one other thing, Monsieur le Baron," she whispered in hisear, "can buy the jewels from a crown--can buy, even, the heart of awoman--"
A movement of approaching guests caught them up, and parted them for atime. The Baroness de Grost was at home from ten till one, and her roomswere crowded. The Baron found himself drawn on one side, a few minuteslater, by Monsieur de Lamborne himself.
"I have been looking for you, De Grost," the latter declared. "Where canwe talk for a moment?"
His host took the ambassador by the arm and led him into a retiredcorner. Monsieur de Lamborne was a tall, slight man, somewhat cadaverouslooking, with large features, hollow eyes, thin but carefully arrangedgray hair, and a pointed gray beard. He wore a frilled shirt, and aneye-glass suspended by a broad black ribbon hung down upon his chest.His face, as a rule, was imperturbable enough, but he had the air, justnow, of a man greatly disturbed.
"We cannot be overheard here," De Grost remarked. "It must be an affairof a few words only, though."
Monsieur de Lamborne wasted no time in preliminaries. "This afternoon,"he said, "I received from my Government papers of immense importance,which I am to hand over to your Foreign Minister at eleven o'clockto-morrow morning."
The Baron nodded.
"Well?"
De Lamborne's thin fingers trembled as they played nervously with theribbon of his eye-glass.
"Listen," he continued, dropping his voice a little. "Bernadine hasundertaken to send a copy of their contents to Berlin by to-morrownight's mail."
"How do you know that?"
The ambassador hesitated.
"We, too, have spies at work," he remarked, grimly. "Bernadine wrote andsent a messenger with the letter to Berlin. The man's body is driftingdown the Channel, but the letter is in my pocket."
"The letter from Bernadine?"
"Yes."
"What does he say?"
"Simply that a verbatim copy of the document in question will bedespatched to Berlin to-morrow evening, without fail."
"There are no secrets between us," De Grost declared, smoothly. "What isthe special importance of this document?"
De Lamborne shrugged his shoulders.
"Since you ask," he said, "I will tell you. You know of the slightcoolness which there has been between our respective Governments. Ourpeople have felt that the policy of your ministers in expending alltheir energies and resources in the building of a great fleet to theutter neglect of your army is a wholly one-sided arrangement, so far aswe are concerned. In the event of a simultaneous attack by Germany uponFrance and England, you would be utterly powerless to render us anymeasure of assistance. If Germany should attack England alone, it isthe wish of your Government that we should be pledged to occupyAlsace-Lorraine. You, on the other hand, could do nothing for us, ifGermany's first move were made against France."
The Baron was deeply interested, although the matter was no new one tohim.
"Go on," he directed. "I am waiting for you to tell me the specificcontents of this document."
"The English Government has asked us two questions: first, how manycomplete army corps we consider she ought to place at our disposal inthis eventuality; and, secondly, at what point should we expect themto be concentrated. The despatch which I received to-night contains thereply to these questions."
"Which Bernadine has promised to forward to Berlin to-morrow night," theBaron remarked, softly.
De Lamborne nodded.
"You perceive," he said, "the immense importance of the affair. The veryexistence of that document is almost a casus belli."
"At what time did the despatch arrive," the Baron asked, "and what hasbeen its history since?"
"It arrived at six o'clock, and went straight into the inner pocket ofmy coat; it has not been out of my possession for a single second. Evenwhile I talk to you I can feel it."
"And your plans? How are you intending to dispose of it to-night?"
"On my return to the Embassy I shall place it in the safe, lock it up,and remain watching it until morning."
"There doesn't seem to be much chance for Bernadine," the Baronremarked, thoughtfully.
"But there must be no chance--no chance at all," Monsieur de Lamborneasserted, with a note of passion in his thin voice. "It is incredible,preposterous, that he should even make the attempt. I want you tocome home with me and share my vigil. You shall be my witness in caseanything happens. We will watch together."
De Grost reflected for a moment.
"Bernadine makes few mistakes," he said, thoughtfully. Monsieur deLamborne passed his hand across his forehead.
"Do I not know it?" he muttered. "In this instance, though, it seemsimpossible for him to succeed. The time is so short and the conditionsso difficult. I may count upon your assistance, Baron?"
The Baron drew from his pocket a crumpled piece of paper.
"I received a telegram from headquarters this after noon," he said,"with instructions to place myself entirely at your disposal."
"You will return with me, then, to the Embassy?" Monsieur de Lamborneasked, eagerly.
The Baron de Grost did not at once reply. He was standing in one ofhis characteristic attitudes, his hands clasped behind him, his heada little thrust forward, watching with every appearance of courteousinterest the roomful of guests, stationary just now, listening to theperformance of a famous violinist. It was, perhaps, by accident thathis eyes met those of Madame de Lamborne, but she smiled at him subtly,more, perhaps, with her wonderful eyes than her lips themselves. Shewas the centre of a very brilliant group, a most beautiful woman holdingcourt, as was only right and proper, among her admirers. The Baronsighed.
"No," he said, "I shall not return with you, De Lamborne. I want you tofollow my suggestions, if you will."
"But, assuredly!"
"Leave here early and go to your club. Remain there until one, then cometo the Embassy. I shall be there awaiting your arrival."
"You mean that you will go there alone? I do not understand," theambassador protested. "Why should I go to my club? I do not at allunderstand."
"Nevertheless, do as I say," De Grost insisted. "For the present, excuseme. I must look after my guests."
The music had ceased, there was a movement toward the supper-room. TheBaron offered his arm to Madame de Lamborne, who welcomed him with abrilliant smile. Her husband, although, for a Frenchman, he was by nomeans of a jealous disposition, was conscious of a vague feeling ofuneasiness as he watched them pass out of the room together. A fewminutes later he made his excuses to his wife and with a reluctance forwhich he could scarcely account left the house. There was somethingin the air, he felt, which he did not understand. He would not haveadmitted it to himself, but he more than half divined the truth. Thevacant seat in his wife's carriage was filled that night by the Baron deGrost.
At one o'clock precisely Monsieur de Lamborne returned to his houseand heard with well-simulated interest that Monsieur le Baron de Grostawaited his arrival in the library. He found De Grost gazing withobvious respect at the ponderous safe let into the wall.
"A very fine affair--this," he remarked, motioning with his head towardit.
"The best of its kind," Monsieur de Lamborne admitted. "No burglar yethas ever succeeded in opening one of its type. Here is the packet," headded, drawing the document from his pocket. "You shall see me place itin safety myself."
The Baron stretched out his hand and examined the sealed envelope for amoment closely. Then he moved to the writing-table, and, placing it uponthe letter scales, made a note of its exact weight. Finally, he watchedit deposited in the ponderous safe, suggested the word to which thelock was set, and closed the door. Monsieur de Lamborne heaved a sigh ofrelief.
"I fancy this time," he said, "that our friends at Berlin will bedisappointed. Couch or easy-chair, Baron?"
"The couch, if you please," De Grost replied, "a strong cigar, and along whiskey and soda. So! Now, for our vigil."
The hours crawled away. Once De Grost sat up and listened.
"Any rats about?" he inquired.
The ambassador was indignant.
"I have never heard one in my life," he answered. "This is quite amodern house."
De Grost dropped his match-box and stooped to pick it up.
"Any lights on anywhere, except in this room?" he asked.
"Certainly not," Monsieur de Lamborne answered. "It is past threeo'clock, and every one has gone to bed."
The Baron rose and softly unbolted the door. The passage outside was indarkness. He listened intently, for a moment, and returned, yawning.
"One fancies things," he murmured, apologetically.
"For example?" De Lamborne demanded.
The Baron shook his head.
"One mistakes," he declared. "The nerves become over sensitive."
The dawn broke and the awakening hum of the city grew louder and louder.De Grost rose and stretched himself.
"Your servants are moving about in the house," he remarked. "I thinkthat we might consider our vigil at an end."
Monsieur de Lamborne rose with alacrity.
"My friend," he said, "I feel that I have made false pretenses to you.With the day I have no fear. A thousand pardons for your sleeplessnight."
"My sleepless night counts for nothing," the Baron assured him, "but,before I go, would it not be as well that we glance together inside thesafe?"
De Lamborne shook out his keys.
"I was about to suggest it," he replied.
The ambassador arranged the combination and pressed the lever. Slowlythe great door swung back. The two men peered in.
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br /> "Untouched!" De Lamborne exclaimed, a little note of triumph in histone.
De Grost said nothing, but held out his hand.
"Permit me," he interposed.
De Lamborne was conscious of a faint sense of uneasiness. His companionwalked across the room and carefully weighed the packet.
"Well?" De Lamborne cried. "Why do you do that? What is wrong?"
The Baron turned and faced him.
"My friend," he said, "this is not the same packet." The ambassadorstared at him incredulously.
"You are jesting!" he exclaimed. "Miracles do not happen. The thing isimpossible."
"It is the impossible, then, which has happened," De Grost replied,swiftly. "This packet can scarcely have gained two ounces in the night.Besides, the seal is fuller. I have an eye for these details."
De Lamborne leaned against the back of the table. His eyes were a littlewild, but he laughed hoarsely.
"We fight, then, against the creatures of another world," he declared."No human being could have opened that safe last night."
The Baron hesitated.
"Monsieur de Lamborne," he said, "the room adjoining is your wife's."
"It is the salon of Madame," the ambassador admitted.
"What are the electrical appliances doing there?" the Baron demanded."Don't look at me like that, De Lamborne. Remember that I was herebefore you arrived."
"My wife takes an electric massage every day," Monsieur de Lamborneanswered, in a hard, unnatural voice. "In what way is Monsieur le Baronconcerned in my wife's doings?"
"I think that there need be no answer to that question," De Grost said,quietly. "It is a greater tragedy which we have to face."
Quick as lightning, the Frenchman's hand shot out. De Grost barelyavoided the blow.
"You shall answer to me for this, sir," De Lamborne cried. "It is thehonor of my wife which you assail."
"I maintain only," the Baron answered, "that your safe was entered fromthat room. A search will prove it."
"There will be no search there," De Lamborne declared, fiercely. "I amthe Ambassador of France, and my power under this roof is absolute. Isay that you shall not cross that threshold."
De Grost's expression did not change. Only his hands were suddenlyoutstretched with a curious gesture--the four fingers were raised, thethumbs depressed. Monsieur De Lamborne collapsed.
"I submit," he muttered. "It is you who are the master. Search where youwill."
"Monsieur has arrived?" the woman demanded, breathlessly.
The proprietor of the restaurant himself bowed a reply. His client wasevidently well-known to him. He answered her in French--French, with avery guttural accent.
"Monsieur has ascended some few minutes ago. Myself, I have not had thepleasure of wishing him bon aperitif, but Fritz announced his coming."
The woman drew a little sigh of relief. A vague misgiving had troubledher during the last few hours. She raised her veil as she mounted thenarrow staircase which led to the one private room at the Hotel deLorraine. She entered, without tapping, the room at the head of thestairs, pushing open the ill-varnished door with its white-curtainedtop. At first she thought that the little apartment was empty.
"Are you there?" she exclaimed, advancing a few steps.
The figure of a man glided from behind the worn screen close by herside, and stood between her and the door.
"Madame!" De Grost said, bowing low.
Even then she scarcely realized that she was trapped. "You?" she cried."You, Baron? But I do not understand. You have followed me here?"
"On the contrary, Madame," he answered. "I have preceded you."
Her colossal vanity triumphed over her natural astuteness. The man hademployed spies to watch her! He had lost his head. It was an awkwardmatter, this, but it was to be arranged. She held out her hands.
"Monsieur," she said, "let me beg you now to go away. If you care to,come and see me this evening. I will explain everything. It is a littlefamily affair which brings me here."
"A family affair, Madame, with Bernadine, the enemy of France," De Grostdeclared, gravely.
She collapsed miserably, her fingers grasping at the air, the cry whichbroke from her lips harsh and unnatural. Before he could tell what washappening, she was on her knees before him.
"Spare me," she begged, trying to seize his hands.
"Madame," De Grost answered, "I am not your judge. You will kindly handover to me the document which you are carrying."
She took it from the bosom of her dress. De Grost glanced at it, andplaced it in his breast-pocket.
"And now?" she faltered.
De Grost sighed--she was a very beautiful woman.
"Madame," he said, "the career of a spy is, as you have doubtlesssometimes realized, a dangerous one."
"It is finished," she assured him, breathlessly. "Monsieur le Baron, youwill keep my secret? Never again, I swear it, will I sin like this. You,yourself, shall be the trustee of my honor."
Her eyes and arms besought him, but it was surely a changed man--this.There was none of the suaveness, the delicate responsiveness of herlate host at Porchester House. The man who faced her now possessed thefeatures of a sphinx. There was not even pity in his face.
"You will not tell my husband?" she gasped.
"Your husband already knows, Madame," was the quiet reply. "Only a fewhours ago I proved to him whence had come the leakage of so many of oursecrets lately."
She swayed upon her feet.
"He will never forgive me," she cried.
"There are others," De Grost declared, "who forgive more rarely, even,than husbands."
A sudden illuminating flash of horror told her the truth. She closed hereyes and tried to run from the room.
"I will not be told," she screamed. "I will not hear. I do not know whoyou are. I will live a little longer."
"Madame," De Grost said, "the Double-Four wages no war with women, savewith spies only. The spy has no sex. For the sake of your family, permitme to send you back to your husband's house."
That night, two receptions and a dinner party were postponed. All Londonwas sympathizing with Monsieur de Lamborne, and a great many women sworenever again to take a sleeping draught. Madame de Lamborne lay deadbehind the shelter of those drawn blinds, and by her side an emptyphial.