CHAPTER IV. THE MAN PROM THE OLD TESTAMENT
Bernadine, sometimes called the Count von Hern, was lunching atthe Savoy with the pretty wife of a Cabinet Minister, who was justsufficiently conscious of the impropriety of her action to render thesituation interesting.
"I wish you would tell me, Count von Hern," she said, soon after theyhad settled down in their places, "why my husband seems to object toyou so much. I simply dared not tell him that we were going to lunchtogether, and as a rule he doesn't mind what I do in that way."
Bernadine smiled slowly.
"Ah, well," he remarked, "your husband is a politician and a verycautious man. I dare say he is like some of those others, who believethat, because I am a foreigner and live in London, therefore I am aspy."
"You a spy," she laughed. "What nonsense!"
"Why nonsense?"
She shrugged her shoulders. She was certainly a very pretty woman, andher black gown set off to fullest advantage her deep red hair and faircomplexion.
"I suppose because I can't imagine you anything of the sort," shedeclared. "You see, you hunt and play polo, and do everything which theordinary Englishmen do. Then one meets you everywhere. I think, Countvon Hern, that you are much too spoilt, for one thing, to take lifeseriously."
"You do me an injustice," he murmured.
"Of course," she chattered on, "I don't really know what spies do. Onereads about them in these silly stories, but I have never felt sure thatas live people they exist at all. Tell me, Count, what could a foreignspy do in England?"
Bernadine twirled his fair moustache and shrugged his shoulders.
"Indeed, my dear lady," he admitted, "I scarcely know what a spy coulddo nowadays. A few years ago, you English people were all so trusting.Your fortifications, your battleships, not to speak of your countryitself, were wholly at the disposal of the enterprising foreigner whodesired to acquire information. The party who governed Great Britainthen seemed to have some strange idea that these things made for peace.To-day, however, all that is changed."
"You seem to know something about it," she remarked.
"I am afraid that mine is really only the superficial point of view," heanswered, "but I do know that there is a good deal of information,which seems absolutely insignificant in itself, for which some foreigncountries are willing to pay. For instance, there was a Cabinet Councilyesterday, I believe, and some one was going to suggest that a secret,but official, visit be paid to your new harbor works up at Rosyth. Anannouncement will probably be made in the papers during the next fewdays as to whether the visit is to be undertaken or not. Yet there arecountries who are willing to pay for knowing even such an insignificantitem of news as that, a few hours before the rest of the world."
Lady Maxwell laughed.
"Well, I could earn that little sum of money," she declared gayly, "formy husband has just made me cancel a dinner-party for next Thursday,because he has to go up to the stupid place."
Bernadine smiled. It was really a very unimportant matter, but he lovedto feel, even in his idle moments, that he was not altogether wastinghis time.
"I am sorry," he said, "that I am not myself acquainted with one ofthese mythical personages that I might return you the value of yourmarvelous information. If I dared think, however, that it would be inany way acceptable, I could offer you the diversion of a restaurantdinner-party for that night. The Duchess of Castleford has kindlyoffered to act as hostess for me and we are all going on to the Gaietyafterwards."
"Delightful!" Lady Maxwell exclaimed. "I should love to come."
Bernadine bowed.
"You have, then, dear lady, fulfilled your destiny," he said. "You havegiven secret information to a foreign person of mysterious identity, andaccepted payment."
Now, Bernadine was a man of easy manners and unruffled composure. To thenatural insouciance of his aristocratic bringing up, he had added thesteely reserve of a man moving in the large world, engaged more oftenthan not in some hazardous enterprise. Yet, for once in his life, andin the midst of the idlest of conversations, he gave himself away soutterly that even this woman with whom he was lunching--a very butterflylady, indeed could not fail to perceive it. She looked at him insomething like astonishment. Without the slightest warning his face hadbecome set in a rigid stare, his eyes were filled with the expressionof a man who sees into another world. The healthy color faded from hischeeks, he was white even to the parted lips, the wine dripped from hisraised glass onto the tablecloth.
"Why, whatever is the matter with you?" she demanded. "Is it a ghostthat you see?"
Bernadine's effort was superb, but he was too clever to deny the shock.
"A ghost, indeed," he answered, "the ghost of a man whom every newspaperin Europe has declared to be dead."
Her eyes followed his. The two people who were being ushered to aseat in their immediate vicinity were certainly of somewhat unusualappearance. The man was tall, and thin as a lath, and he wore theclothes of the fashionable world without awkwardness, yet with theair of one who was wholly unaccustomed to them. His cheek-bones wereremarkably high, and receded so quickly towards his pointed chin thathis cheeks were little more than hollows. His eyes were dry and burning,flashing here and there as though the man himself were continuallyoppressed by some furtive fear. His thick black hair was short cropped,his forehead high and intellectual. He was a strange figure, indeed,in such a gathering, and his companion only served to accentuate theanachronisms of his appearance. She was, above all things, a woman ofthe moment--fair, almost florid, a little thick-set, with tightly-laced,yet passable figure. Her eyes were blue, her hair light-colored. Shewore magnificent furs, and, as she threw aside her boa, she disclosed amass of jewelry around her neck and upon her bosom, almost barbaric inits profusion and setting.
"What an extraordinary couple!" Lady Maxwell whispered.
Bernadine smiled.
"The man looks as though he had stepped out of the Old Testament," hemurmured.
Lady Maxwell's interest was purely feminine, and was riveted now uponthe jewelry worn by the woman. Bernadine, under the mask of his habitualindifference, which had easily reassumed, seemed to be looking away outof the restaurant into the great square of a half-savage city, lookingat that marvelous crowd, numbered by their thousands, even by theirhundreds of thousands, of men and women whose arms flashed out towardthe snow-hung heavens, whose lips were parted in one chorus of rapturousacclamation; looking beyond them to the tall, emaciated form of thebare-headed priest in his long robes, his wind-tossed hair and wildeyes, standing alone before that multitude, in danger of death, orworse, at any moment--their idol, their hero. And again, as the memoriescame flooding into his brain, the scene passed away, and he saw thebare room with its whitewashed walls and blocked-up windows; he feltthe darkness, lit only by those flickering candles. He saw the white,passion-wrung faces of the men who clustered together around the rudetable, waiting; he heard their murmurs, he saw the fear born in theireyes. It was the night when their leader did not come.
Bernadine poured himself out a glass of wine and drank it slowly. Themists were clearing away now. He was in London, at the Savoy Restaurant,and within a few yards of him sat the man with whose name all Europeonce had rung--the man hailed by some as martyr, and loathed by othersas the most fiendish Judas who ever drew breath. Bernadine was notconcerned with the moral side of this strange encounter. How best to usehis knowledge of this man's identity was the question which beat uponhis brain. What use could be made of him, what profit for his countryand himself? And then a fear--a sudden, startling fear. Little profit,perhaps, to be made, but the danger--the danger of this man alive withsuch secrets locked in his bosom! The thought itself was terrifying, andeven as he realized it a significant thing happened--he caught the eyeof the Baron de Grost, lunching alone at a small table just inside therestaurant.
"You are not at all amusing," his guest declared. "It is nearly fiveminutes since you have spoken."
"You, too, have been absorb
ed," he reminded her.
"It is that woman's jewels," she admitted. "I never saw anything morewonderful. The people are not English, of course. I wonder where theycome from."
"One of the Eastern countries, without a doubt," he replied, carelessly.
Lady Maxwell sighed.
"He is a peculiar-looking man," she said, "but one could put up witha good deal for jewels like that. What are you doing thisafternoon--picture-galleries or your club?"
"Neither, unfortunately," Bernadine answered. "I have promised to gowith a friend to look at some polo ponies."
"Do you know," she remarked, "that we have never been to see thoseJapanese prints yet?"
"The gallery is closed until Monday," he assured her, falsely. "If youwill honor me then, I shall be delighted."
She shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. She had an idea that shewas being dismissed, but Bernadine, without the least appearance ofhurry, gave her no opportunity for any further suggestions. He handedher into the automobile, and returned at once into the restaurant. Hetouched Baron de Grost upon the shoulder.
"My friend, the enemy!" he exclaimed, smiling.
"At your service in either capacity," the Baron replied. Bernadine madea grimace and accepted the chair which De Grost had indicated.
"If I may, I will take my coffee with you," he said. "I am growing old.It does not amuse me so much to lunch with a pretty woman. One has toentertain, and one forgets the serious business of lunching. I will takemy coffee and cigarettes in peace."
De Grost gave an order to the waiter and leaned back in his chair.
"Now," he suggested, "tell me exactly what it is that has brought youback into the restaurant?"
Bernadine shrugged his shoulders.
"Why not the pleasure of this few minutes' conversation with you?" heasked.
The Baron carefully selected a cigar, and lit it.
"That," he said, "goes well, but there are other things."
"As, for instance?"
De Grost leaned back in his chair, and watched the smoke of his cigarcurl upwards.
"One talks too much," he remarked. "Before the cards are upon the table,it is not wise."
They chatted upon various matters. De Grost himself seemed in no hurryto depart, nor did his companion show any signs of impatience. It wasnot until the two people whose entrance had had such a remarkable effectupon Bernadine, rose to leave, that the mask was, for a moment, lifted.De Grost had called for his bill and paid it. The two men strolled outtogether.
"Baron," Bernadine said, suavely, linking his arm through the otherman's as they passed into the foyer, "there are times when candor evenamong enemies becomes an admirable quality."
"Those times, I imagine," De Grost answered, grimly, "are rare. Besides,who is to tell the real thing from the false?"
"You do less than justice to your perceptions, my friend," Bernadinedeclared, smiling.
De Grost merely shrugged his shoulders. Bernadine persisted.
"Come," he continued, "since you doubt me, let me be the first to giveyou a proof that on this occasion, at any rate, I am candor itself.You had a purpose in lunching at the Savoy to-day. That purpose I havediscovered by accident. We are both interested in those people." TheBaron de Grost shook his head slowly.
"Really," he began--
"Let me finish," Bernadine insisted. "Perhaps when you have heard allthat I have to say, you may change your attitude. We are interested inthe same people, but in different ways. If we both move from oppositedirections, our friend will vanish--he is clever enough at disappearing,as he has proved before. We do not want the same thing from him, I amconvinced of that. Let us move together and made sure that he does notevade us."
"Is it an alliance which you are proposing?" De Grost asked, with aquiet smile.
"Why not? Enemies have united before to-day against a common foe."
De Grost looked across the palm court to where the two people who formedthe subject of their discussion were sitting in a corner, both smoking,both sipping some red-colored liqueur.
"My dear Bernadine," he said, "I am much too afraid of you to listen anymore. You fancy because this man's presence here was an entire surpriseto you, and because you find me already on his track, that I know morethan you do and that an alliance with me would be to your advantage.You would try to persuade me that your object with him would not bemy object. Listen. I am afraid of you--you are too clever for me. I amgoing to leave you in sole possession."
De Grost's tone was final and his bow valedictory. Bernadine watched himstroll in a leisurely way through the foyer, exchanging greetings hereand there with friends, watched him enter the cloakroom, from which heemerged with his hat and overcoat, watched him step into his automobileand leave the restaurant. He turned back with a clouded face, and threwhimself into an easy chair.
Ten minutes passed uneventfully. People were passing backwards andforwards all the time, but Bernadine, through his half-closed eyes, didlittle save watch the couple in whom he was so deeply interested. Atlast the man rose, and, with a word of farewell to his companion, cameout from the lounge, and made his way up the foyer, turning toward thehotel. He walked with quick, nervous strides, glancing now and thenrestlessly about him. In his eyes, to those who understood, there wasthe furtive gleam of the hunted man. It was the passing of one who wasafraid.
The woman, left to herself, began to look around her with somecuriosity. Bernadine, to whom a new idea had occurred, moved his chairnearer to hers, and was rewarded by a glance which certainly betrayedsome interest. A swift and unerring judge in such matters, he cameto the instant conclusion that she was not unapproachable. He actedimmediately and upon impulse. Rising to his feet, he approached her, andbowed easily but respectfully.
"Madame," he said, "it is impossible that I am mistaken. I have had thepleasure, have I not, of meeting you in St. Petersburg?"
Her first reception of his coming was reassuring enough. At his mentionof St. Petersburg, however, she frowned.
"I do not think so," she answered, in French. "You are mistaken. I donot know St. Petersburg."
"Then it was in Paris," Bernadine continued, with conviction. "Madame isParisian, without a doubt."
She shook her head, smiling.
"I do not think that I remember meeting you, Monsieur," she replied,doubtfully, "but perhaps--"
She looked up, and her eyes dropped before his. He was certainly a verypersonable looking man, and she had spoken to no one for so many months.
"Believe me, Madame, I could not possibly be mistaken," Bernadineassured her, smoothly. "You are staying here for long?"
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Heaven knows!" she declared. "My husband he has, I think, what you callthe wander fever. For myself, I am tired of it. In Rome we settle down,we stay five days, all seems pleasant, and suddenly my husband's whimcarries us away without an hour's notice. The same thing at Monte Carlo,the same in Paris. Who can tell what will happen here? To tell you thetruth, Monsieur," she added, a little archly, "I think that if he wereto come back at this moment, we should probably leave England to-night."
"Your husband is very jealous?" Bernadine whispered, softly.
She shrugged her shoulders.
"Partly jealous, and partly, he has the most terrible distaste foracquaintances. He will not speak to strangers himself, or suffer me todo so. It is sometimes--oh! it is sometimes very triste."
"Madame has my sympathy," Bernadine assured her. "It is an impossiblelife--this. No husband should be so exacting."
She looked at him with her round, blue eyes, a touch of added color inher cheeks.
"If one could but cure him!" she murmured.
"I would ask your permission to sit down," Bernadine remarked, "but Ifear to intrude. You are afraid, perhaps, that your husband may return."
She shook her head.
"It will be better that you do not stay," she declared. "For a moment ortwo he is engaged. He has an appointment in his room with a
gentleman,but one never knows how long he may be."
"You have friends in London, then," Bernadine remarked, thoughtfully.
"Of my husband's affairs," the woman said, "there is no one so ignorantas I. Yet since we left our own country, this is the first time I haveknown him willingly speak to a soul."
"Your own country," Bernadine repeated, softly. "That was Russia, ofcourse. Your husband's nationality is very apparent."
The woman looked a little annoyed with herself. She remained silent.
"May I not hope," Bernadine begged, "that you will give me the pleasureof meeting you again?"
She hesitated for a moment.
"He does not leave me," she replied. "I am not alone for five minutesduring the day."
Bernadine scribbled the name by which he was known in that locality, ona card, and passed it to her.
"I have rooms in St. James's Street, quite close to here," he said. "Ifyou could come and have tea with me to-day or to-morrow, it would giveme the utmost pleasure."
She took the card, and crumpled it in her hand. All the time, though,she shook her head.
"Monsieur is very kind," she answered. "I am afraid--I do not think thatit would be possible. And now, if you please, you must go away. I amterrified lest my husband should return."
Bernadine bent low in a parting salute.
"Madame," he pleaded, "you will come?"
Bernadine was a handsome man, and he knew well enough how to usehis soft and extraordinarily musical voice. He knew very well, as heretired, that somehow or other she would accept his invitation. Eventhen, he felt dissatisfied and ill at ease, as he left the place. He hadmade a little progress, but, after all, was it worth while? Supposingthat the man with whom her husband was even at this moment closeted, wasthe Baron de Grost! He called a taxicab and drove at once to the Embassyof his country.
Even at that moment, De Grost and the Russian--Paul Hagon he calledhimself--were standing face to face in the latter's sitting-room. Noconventional greetings of any sort had been exchanged. De Grosthad scarcely closed the door behind him before Hagon addressed himbreathlessly, almost fiercely.
"Who are you, sir," he demanded, "and what do you want with me?"
"You had my letter?" De Grost inquired.
"I had your letter," the other admitted. "It told me nothing. You speakof business. What business have I with any here?"
"My business is soon told," De Grost replied, "but in the first place,I beg that you will not unnecessarily alarm yourself. There is,believe me, no need for it, no need whatever, although, to preventmisunderstandings, I may as well tell you at once that I am perfectlywell aware who it is that I am addressing."
Hagon collapsed into a chair. He buried his face in his hands andgroaned.
"I am not here necessarily as an enemy," De Grost continued. "You havevery excellent reasons, I make no doubt, for remaining unknown inthis city, or wherever you may be. As yet, let me assure you that youridentity is not even suspected, except by myself and one other. Thosefew who believe you alive, believe that you are in America. There is noneed for any one to know that Father--"
"Stop!" the man begged, piteously. "Stop!"
De Grost bowed.
"I beg your pardon," he said.
"Now tell me," the man demanded, "what is your price? I have had money.There is not much left. Sophia is extravagant and traveling costs agreat deal. But why do I weary you with these things?" he added. "Let meknow what I have to pay for your silence."
"I am not a blackmailer," De Grost answered, sternly. "I am myself awealthy man. I ask from you nothing in money--I ask you nothing in thatway at all. A few words of information, and a certain paper, which Ibelieve you have in your possession, is all that I require."
"Information," Hagon repeated, shivering.
"What I ask," De Grost declared, "is really a matter of justice. At thetime when you were the idol of all Russia and the leader of the greatrevolutionary party, you received funds from abroad."
"I accounted for them," Hagon muttered. "Up to a certain point Iaccounted for everything."
"You received funds from the Government of a European power," De Grostcontinued, "funds to be applied towards developing the revolution. Iwant the name of that Power, and proof of what I say."
Hagon remained motionless for a moment. He had seated himself at thetable, his head resting upon his hand and his face turned away from DeGrost.
"You are a politician, then?" he asked, slowly.
"I am a politician," De Grost admitted. "I represent a great secretpower which has sprung into existence during the last few years. Ouraim, at present, is to bring closer together your country and GreatBritain. Russia hesitates because an actual rapprochement with us isequivalent to a permanent estrangement with Germany."
Hagon nodded.
"I understand," he said, in a low tone. "I have finished with politics.I have nothing to say to you."
"I trust," De Grost persisted, suavely, "that you will be betteradvised."
Hagon turned round and faced him.
"Sir," he demanded, "do you believe that I am afraid of death?"
De Grost looked at him steadfastly.
"No," he answered, "you have proved the contrary."
"If my identity is discovered," Hagon continued, "I have the means ofinstant death at hand. I do not use it because of my love for the oneperson who links me to this world. For her sake I live, and for hersake I bear always the memory of the shameful past. Publish my name andwhereabouts, if you will. I promise you that I will make the tragedycomplete. But for the rest, I refuse to pay your price. A great powertrusted me, and whatever its motives may have been, its money came verynear indeed to freeing my people. I have nothing more to say to you,sir."
The Baron de Grost was taken aback. He had scarcely contemplatedrefusal.
"You must understand," he explained, "that this is not a personalmatter. Even if I myself would spare you, those who are more powerfulthan I will strike. The society to which I belong does not toleratefailure. I am empowered even to offer you its protection, if you willgive me the information for which I ask."
Hagon rose to his feet, and, before De Grost could foresee his purpose,had rung the bell.
"My decision is unchanging," he said. "You can pull down the roof uponmy head, but I carry next my heart an instant and unfailing means ofescape."
A waiter stood in the doorway.
"You will take this gentleman to the lift," Hagon directed.
There was once more a touch in his manner of that half divine authoritywhich had thrilled the great multitude of his believers. De Grost wasforced to admit defeat.
"Not defeat," he said to himself, as he followed the man to the lift,"only a check."
Nevertheless, it was a serious check. He could not, for the moment, seehis way further. Arrived at his house, he followed his usual customand made his way at once to his wife's rooms. Violet was resting upon asofa, but laid down her book at his entrance.
"Violet," he declared, "I have come for your advice."
"He refuses, then?" she asked, eagerly.
"Absolutely. What am I to do? Bernadine is already upon the scent. Hesaw him at the Savoy to-day, and recognized him."
"Has Bernadine approached him yet?" Violet inquired.
"Not yet. He is half afraid to move. I think he realizes, or will verysoon, how serious this man's existence may be for Germany."
Violet was thoughtful for several moments, then she looked up quickly.
"Bernadine will try the woman," she asserted. "You say that Hagon isinfatuated?"
"Blindly," De Grost replied. "He scarcely lets her out of his sight."
"Your people watch Bernadine?"
"Always."
"Very well, then," Violet went on, "you will find that he will attemptan intrigue with the woman. The rest should be easy for you."
De Grost sighed as he bent over his wife.
"My dear," he said, "there is no subtlety like the subtlety of a
woman."
Bernadine's instinct had not deceived him, and the following afternoonhis servant, who had already received orders, silently ushered MadameHagon into his apartments. She was wrapped in magnificent sables andheavily veiled. Bernadine saw at once that she was very nervous andwholly terrified. He welcomed her in as matter-of-fact a manner aspossible.
"Madame," he declared, "this is quite charming of you. You must sit inmy easy-chair here, and my man shall bring us some tea. I drink minealways after the fashion of your country, with lemon, but I doubtwhether we make it so well. Won't you unfasten your jacket? I am afraidthat my rooms are rather warm."
Madame had collected herself, but it was quite obvious that she wasunused to adventures of this sort. Her hand, when he took it, trembled,and more than once she glanced furtively toward the door.
"Yes, I have come," she murmured. "I do not know why. It is not rightfor me to come. Yet there are times when I am weary, times when Paulseems fierce and when I am terrified. Sometimes I even wish that I wereback--"
"Your husband seems very highly strung," Bernadine remarked. "He hasdoubtless led an exciting life."
"As to that," she replied, gazing around her now and gradually becomingmore at her ease, "I know but little. He was a student professorat Moschaume, when I met him. I think that he was at one of theuniversities in St. Petersburg."
Bernadine glanced at her covertly. It came to him as an inspiration thatthe woman did not know the truth.
"You are from Russia, then, after all," he said, smiling. "I felt sureof it."
"Yes," reluctantly. "Paul is so queer in these things. He will not letme talk of it. He prefers that we are taken for French people. Indeed,it is not I who desire to think too much of Russia. It is not a yearsince my father was killed in the riots, and two of my brothers weresent to Siberia."
Bernadine was deeply interested.
"They were among the revolutionaries?" he asked.
She nodded.
"Yes," she answered.
"And your husband?"
"He, too, was with them in sympathy. Secretly, too, I believe that heworked among them. Only he had to be careful. You see, his position atthe college made it difficult."
Bernadine looked into the woman's eyes and he knew then that she wasspeaking the truth. This man was, indeed, a great master; he had kepther in ignorance!
"Always," Bernadine said, a few minutes later, as he passed her tea, "Iread with the deepest interest of the people's movement in Russia. Tellme, what became eventually of their great leader--the wonderful FatherPaul?"
She set down her cup untasted, and her blue eyes flashed with a firewhich turned them almost to the color of steel.
"Wonderful indeed!" she exclaimed "Wonderful Judas! It was he whowrecked the cause. It was he who sold the lives and liberty of all of usfor gold."
"I heard a rumor of that," Bernadine remarked, "but I never believedit."
"It was true," she declared passionately.
"And where is he now?" Bernadine asked.
"Dead!" she answered fiercely. "Torn to pieces, we believe, one night ina house near Moscow. May it be so!"
She was silent for a moment, as though engaged in prayer. Bernadinespoke no more of these things. He talked to her kindly, keeping upalways his role of respectful but hopeful admirer.
"You will come again soon?" he begged, when, at last, she insisted upongoing.
She hesitated.
"It is so difficult," she murmured. "If my husband knew--"
Bernadine laughed, and touched her fingers caressingly.
"Need one tell him?" he whispered. "You see, I trust you. I pray thatyou will come-"
Bernadine was a man rarely moved towards emotion of any sort. Yet evenhe was conscious of a certain sense of excitement, as he stood lookingout upon the Embankment from the windows of Paul Hagon's sitting-room,a few days later. Madame was sitting on the sofa, close at hand. It wasfor her answer to a certain question that he waited.
"Monsieur," she said at last, turning slowly towards him, "it mustbe no. Indeed, I am sorry, for you have been very charming to me, andwithout you I should have been dull. But to come to your rooms and dinealone to-night, it is impossible."
"Your husband cannot return before the morning, Bernadine reminded her.
"It makes no difference," she answered. "Paul is sometimes fierce andrough, but he is generous, and all his life he has worshiped me. Hebehaves strangely at times, but I know that he cares--all the time more,perhaps, than I deserve."
"And there is no one else," Bernadine asked softly, "who can claim eventhe smallest place in your heart?"
"Monsieur," the woman begged, "you must not ask me that. I think thatyou had better go away."
Bernadine stood quite still for several moments. It was the climaxtowards which he had steadfastly guided the course of this mildintrigue.
"Madame," he declared, "you must not send me away. You shall not."
She held out her hand.
"Then you must not ask impossible things," she answered.
Then Bernadine took the plunge. He became suddenly very grave.
"Sophia," he said, "I am keeping a great secret from you and I can do itno longer. When you speak to me of your husband you drive me mad. IfI believed that you really loved him, I would go away and leave it tochance whether or not you ever discovered the truth. As it is--"
"Well?" she interposed breathlessly.
"As it is," he continued, "I am going to tell you now. Your husband hasdeceived you--he is deceiving you every moment."
She looked at him incredulously.
"You mean that there is another woman?"
Bernadine shook his head.
"Worse than that," he answered. "Your husband stole even your love underfalse pretenses. You think that his life is a strange one, thathis nerves have broken down, that he flies from place to place fordistraction, for change of scene. It is not so. He left Rome, he leftNice, he left Paris, for one and the same reason. He left because he wasin peril of his life. I know little of your history, but I know asmuch as this. If ever a man deserved the fate from which he flees, yourhusband deserves it."
"You are mad," she faltered.
"No, I am sane," he went on. "It is you who are mad, not to haveunderstood. Your husband goes ever in fear of his life. His real nameis one branded with ignominy throughout the world. The man whom you havemarried, to whom you are so scrupulously faithful, is the man who sentyour father to death and your brothers to Siberia."
"Father Paul!" she screamed.
"You have lived with him, you are his wife," Bernadine declared.
The color had left her cheeks; her eyes, with their penciled brows, werefixed in an almost ghastly stare; her breath was coming in uneven gasps.She looked at him in silent terror.
"It is not true," she cried at last; "it cannot be true."
"Sophia," he said, "you can prove it for yourself. I know a little ofyour husband and his doings. Does he not carry always with him a blackbox which he will not allow out of his sight?"
"Always," she assented. "How did you know? By night his hand rests uponit. By day, if he goes out, it is in my charge."
"Fetch it now," Bernadine directed, "and I will prove my words."
She did not hesitate for a moment. She disappeared into the inner room;and came back, only a few moments absent, carrying in her hand a blackleather despatch-box.
"You have the key?" he asked.
"Yes," she answered, looking at him and trembling, "but I dare not--oh,I dare not open it!"
"Sophia," he said, "if my words are not true, I will pass out of yourlife for always. I challenge you. If you open that box you will knowthat your husband is, indeed, the greatest scoundrel in Europe."
She drew a key from a gold chain around her neck.
"There are two locks," she told him. "The other is a combination, but Iknow the word. Who's that?"
She started suddenly. There was a loud tapping at the door. Bernadinethrew a
n antimacassar half over the box, but he was too late. De Grostand Hagon had crossed the threshold. The woman stood like some dumbcreature. Hagon, transfixed, stood with his eyes riveted upon Bernadine.His face was distorted with passion, he seemed like a man beside himselfwith fury. De Grost came slowly forward into the middle of the room.
"Count von Hern," he said, "I think that you had better leave."
The woman found words.
"Not yet," she cried, "not yet! Paul, listen to me. This man has told mea terrible thing."
The breath seemed to come through Hagon's teeth like a hiss.
"He has told you!"
"Listen to me," she continued. "It is the truth which you must tell now.He says that you--you are Father Paul."
Hagon did not hesitate for a second.
"It is true," he admitted.
Then there was a silence--short, but tragical. Hagon seemed suddenly tohave collapsed. He was like a man who has just had a stroke. He stoodmuttering to himself.
"It is the end--this--the end!" he said, in a low tone. "Sophia!"
She shrank away from him. He drew himself up. Once more the great lightflashed in his face.
"It was for your sake," he said simply, "for your sake, Sophia. I cameto you poor and you would have nothing to say to me. My love for youburned in my veins like fever. It was for you I did it--for your sake Isold my honor, the love of my country, the freedom of my brothers. Foryour sake I risked an awful death. For your sake I have lived like ahunted man, with the cry of the wolves always in my ears, and the fearof death and of eternal torture with me day by day. No other man sincethe world was made has done more. Have pity on me!"
She was unmoved; her face had lost all expression. No one noticed inthat rapt moment that Bernadine had crept from the room.
"It was you," she cried, "who killed my father, and sent my brothersinto exile."
"God help me!" he moaned.
She turned to De Grost.
"Take him away with you, please," she said. "I have finished with him."
"Sophia!" he pleaded.
She leaned across the table and struck him heavily upon the cheek.
"If you stay here," she muttered, "I shall kill you myself...."
That night, the body of an unknown foreigner was found in the attic of acheap lodging-house in Soho. The discovery itself and the verdict at theinquest occupied only a few lines in the morning newspapers. Those fewlines were the epitaph of one who was very nearly a Rienzi. The greaterpart of his papers De Grost mercifully destroyed, but one in particularhe preserved. Within a week the much delayed treaty was signed at Paris,London and St. Petersburg.