CHAPTER IX. THE GHOSTS OF HAVANA HARBOR
"We may now," Sogrange remarked, buttoning up his ulster, and stretchinghimself out to the full extent of his steamer chair, "consider ourselvesat sea. I trust, my friend, that you are feeling quite comfortable."
Peter, lying at his ease upon a neighboring chair, with a pillow behindhis head, a huge fur coat around his body, and a rug over his feet, hadall the appearance of being very comfortable indeed. His reply, however,was a little short--almost peevish.
"I am comfortable enough for the present, thank you. Heaven knows howlong it will last!"
Sogrange waved his arms towards the great uneasy plain of blue sea, theshowers of foam leaping into the sunlight, away beyond the disappearingcoast of France.
"Last!" he repeated. "For eight days, I hope. Consider, my dear Baron!What could be more refreshing, more stimulating to our jaded nerves thanthis? Think of the December fogs you have left behind, the cold, drivingrain, the puddles in the street, the gray skies--London, in short, ather ugliest and worst."
"That is all very well," Peter protested, "but I have left several otherthings behind, too."
"As, for instance?" Sogrange inquired, genially.
"My wife," Peter informed him. "Violet objects very much to these abruptseparations. This week, too, I was shooting at Saxthorpe, and I had alsoseveral other engagements of a pleasant nature. Besides, I have reachedthat age when I find it disconcerting to be called out of bed in themiddle of the night to answer a long distance telephone call, andtold to embark on a White Star liner leaving Liverpool early the nextmorning. It may be your idea of a pleasure trip. It isn't mine."
Sogrange was amused. His smile, however, was hidden. Only the tip of hiscigarette was visible.
"Anything else?"
"Nothing much, except that I am always seasick," Peter replieddeliberately. "I can feel it coming on now. I wish that fellow wouldkeep away with his beastly mutton broth. The whole ship seems to smellof it."
Sogrange laughed, softly but without disguise.
"Who said anything about a pleasure trip?" he demanded.
Peter turned his head.
"You did. You told me when you came on at Cherbourg that you had to goto New York to look after some property there, that things were veryquiet in London, and that you hated traveling alone. Therefore, you sentfor me at a few hours' notice."
"Is that what I told you?" Sogrange murmured.
"Yes! Wasn't it true?" Peter asked, suddenly alert.
"Not a word of it," Sogrange admitted. "It is quite amazing that youshould have believed it for a moment."
"I was a fool," Peter confessed. "You see, I was tired and a littlecross. Besides, somehow or other, I never associated a trip to Americawith--"
Sogrange interrupted him quietly, but ruthlessly.
"Lift up the label attached to the chair next to yours. Read it out tome."
Peter took it into his hand and turned it over. A quick exclamationescaped him.
"Great Heavens! The Count von Hern--Bernadine!"
"Just so," Sogrange assented. "Nice clear writing, isn't it?"
Peter sat bolt upright in his chair.
"Do you mean to say that Bernadine is on board?" Sogrange shook hishead.
"By the exercise, my dear Baron," he said, "of a superlative amount ofingenuity, I was able to prevent that misfortune. Now lean over and readthe label on the next chair."
Peter obeyed. His manner had acquired a new briskness. "La Duchessedella Nermino," he announced.
Sogrange nodded.
"Everything just as it should be," he declared. "Change those labels, myfriend, as quickly as you can."
Peter's fingers were nimble and the thing was done in a few seconds.
"So I am to sit next the Spanish lady," he remarked, feeling for histie.
"Not only that, but you are to make friends with her," Sogrange replied."You are to be your captivating self, Baron. The Duchesse is to forgether weakness for hot rooms. She is to develop a taste for sea air andyour society."
"Is she," Peter asked, anxiously, "old or young?"
Sogrange showed a disposition to fence with the question. "Not old," heanswered; "certainly not old. Fifteen years ago she was considered to beone of the most beautiful women in the world."
"The ladies of Spain," Peter remarked, with a sigh, "are inclined tomature early."
"In some cases," Sogrange assured him, "there are no women in the worldwho preserve their good looks longer. You shall judge, my friend. Madamecomes! How about that sea-sickness now?"
"Gone," Peter declared, briskly. "Absolutely a fancy of mine. Never feltbetter in my life."
An imposing little procession approached along the deck. There wasthe deck steward leading the way; a very smart French maid carryinga wonderful collection of wraps, cushions and books; a black-browed,pallid man-servant, holding a hot water bottle in his hand, and leadinga tiny Pekinese spaniel, wrapped in a sealskin coat; and finally Madamela Duchesse. It was so obviously a procession intended to impress,that neither Peter nor Sogrange thought it worth while to conceal theirinterest.
The Duchesse, save that she was tall and wrapped in magnificent furs,presented a somewhat mysterious appearance. Her features were entirelyobscured by an unusually thick veil of black lace, and the voluminousnature of her outer garments only permitted a suspicion as to herfigure, which was, at that time, at once the despair and the triumphof her corsetiere. With both hands she was holding her fur-lined skirtsfrom contact with the deck, disclosing at the same time remarkablyshapely feet encased in trim patent shoes with plain silver buckles, anda little more black silk stocking than seemed absolutely necessary. Thedeck steward, after a half-puzzled scrutiny of the labels, let down thechair next to the two men. The Duchesse contemplated her prospectiveneighbors with some curiosity, mingled with a certain amount ofhesitation. It was at that moment that Sogrange, shaking away his rug,rose to his feet.
"Madame la Duchesse permits me to remind her of my existence?" he said,bowing low. "It is some years since we met, but I had the honor of adance at the Palace in Madrid."
She held out her hand at once, yet somehow Peter felt sure that she wasthankful for her veil. Her voice was pleasant, and her air the air of agreat lady. She spoke French with the soft, sibilant intonation of theSpaniard.
"I remember the occasion perfectly, Marquis," she admitted. "Your sisterand I once shared a villa in Mentone."
"I am flattered by your recollection, Duchesse," Sogrange murmured.
"It is a great surprise to meet with you here, though," she continued."I did not see you at Cherbourg or on the train."
"I motored from Paris," Sogrange explained, "and arrived, contrary to mycustom, I must confess, somewhat early. Will you permit that Iintroduce an acquaintance, whom I have been fortunate enough to find onboard--Monsieur le Baron de Grost--Madame la Duchesse della Nermino."
Peter was graciously received and the conversation dealt, for a fewmoments, with the usual banalities of the voyage. Then followed thebusiness of settling the Duchesse in her place. When she was reallyinstalled, and surrounded with all the paraphernalia of a great andfanciful lady, including a handful of long cigarettes, she raisedfor the first time her veil. Peter, who was at the moment engaged inconversation with her, was a little shocked by the result. Her featureswere worn, her face dead-white, with many signs of the ravages wroughtby the constant use of cosmetics. Only her eyes had retained somethingof their former splendor. These latter were almost violet in color,deep-set, with dark rims, and were sufficient almost in themselvesto make one forget for a moment the less prepossessing details of herappearance. A small library of books was by her side, but after awhile she no longer pretended any interest in them. She was a bornconversationalist, a creature of her country entirely and absolutelyfeminine, to whom the subtle and flattering deference of the other sexwas the breath of life itself. Peter burned his homage upon her altarwith a craft which amounted to genius. In less than half an hour,
Madame la Duchesse was looking many years younger. The vague lookof apprehension had passed from her face. Their voices had sunk to aconfidential undertone, punctuated often by the music of her laughter.Sogrange, with a murmured word of apology, had slipped away long ago.Decidedly, for an Englishman, Peter was something of a marvel!
Madame la Duchesse moved her head towards the empty chair.
"He is a great friend of yours--the Marquis de Sogrange?" she asked,with a certain inflection in her tone which Peter was not slow tonotice.
"Indeed no!" he answered. "A few years ago I was frequently in Paris. Imade his acquaintance then, but we have met very seldom since."
"You are not traveling together, then?"
"By no means. I recognized him only as he boarded the steamer atCherbourg."
"He is not a popular man in our world," she remarked. "One speaks of himas a schemer."
"Is there anything left to scheme for in France?" Peter asked,carelessly. "He is, perhaps, a monarchist?"
"His ancestry alone would compel a devoted allegiance to royalism," theDuchesse declared, "but I do not think that he is interested in any ofthese futile plots to reinstate the House of Orleans. I, Monsieur leBaron, am Spanish."
"I have scarcely lived so far out of the world as to have heard nothingof the Duchesse della Nermino," Peter replied with empressement. "Thelast time I saw you, Duchesse, you were in the suite of the Infanta."
"Like all Englishmen, I see you possess a memory," she said, smiling.
"Duchesse," Peter answered, lowering his voice, "without the memorieswhich one is fortunate enough to collect as one passes along, life wouldbe a dreary place. The most beautiful things in the world cannotremain always with us. It is well, then, that the shadow of them can berecalled to us in the shape of dreams."
Her eyes rewarded him for his gallantry. Peter felt that he was doingvery well indeed. He indulged himself in a brief silence. Presently shereturned to the subject of Sogrange.
"I think," she remarked, "that of all the men in the world I expectedleast to see the Marquis de Sogrange on board a steamer bound for NewYork. What can a man of his type find to amuse him in the New World?"
"One wonders, indeed," Peter assented. "As a matter of fact, I did readin a newspaper a few days ago that he was going to Mexico in connectionwith some excavations there. He spoke to me of it just now. They seem tohave discovered a ruined temple of the Incas, or something of the sort."
The Duchesse breathed what sounded very much like a sigh of relief.
"I had forgotten," she admitted, "that New York itself need notnecessarily be his destination."
"For my own part," Peter continued, "it is quite amazing, the interestwhich the evening papers always take in the movements of one connectedever so slightly with their world. I think that a dozen newspapershave told their readers the exact amount of money I am going to lend orborrow in New York, the stocks I am going to bull or bear, the mines Iam going to purchase. My presence on an American steamer is accountedfor by the journalists a dozen times over. Yours, Duchesse, if one mightsay so without appearing over curious, seems the most inexplicable. Whatattraction can America possibly have for you?"
She glanced at him covertly from under her sleepy eyelids. Peter's facewas like the face of a child.
"You do not, perhaps, know," she said, "that I was born in Cuba. I livedthere, in fact, for many years. I still have estates in the country."
"Indeed?" he answered. "Are you interested, then, in this reportedsalvage of the Maine?"
There was a short silence. Peter, who had not been looking at her whenhe had asked his question, turned his head, surprised at her lackof response. His heart gave a little jump. The Duchesse had all theappearance of a woman on the point of fainting. One hand was holdinga scent bottle to her nose; the other, thin and white, ablaze withemeralds and diamonds, was gripping the side of her chair. Herexpression was one of blank terror. Peter felt a shiver chill hisown blood at the things he saw in her face. He himself was confused,apologetic, yet absolutely without understanding. His thoughts revertedat first to his own commonplace malady.
"You are ill, Duchesse!" he exclaimed. "You will allow me to call thedeck steward? Or perhaps you would prefer your own maid? I have somebrandy in this flask."
He had thrown off his rug, but her imperious gesture kept him seated.She was looking at him with an intentness which was almost tragical.
"What made you ask me that question?" she demanded.
His innocence was entirely apparent. Not even Peter could havedissembled so naturally.
"That question?" he repeated, vaguely. "You mean about the Maine? It wasthe idlest chance, Duchesse, I assure you. I saw something about itin the paper yesterday and it seemed interesting. But if I had had theslightest idea that the subject was distasteful to you, I would not havedreamed of mentioning it. Even now--I do not understand--"
She interrupted him. All the time he had been speaking she had shownsigns of recovery. She was smiling now, faintly and with obvious effort,but still smiling.
"It is altogether my own fault, Baron," she admitted, graciously."Please forgive my little fit of emotion. The subject is a very sore oneamong my countrypeople, and your sudden mention of it upset me. It wasvery foolish."
"Duchesse, I was a clumsy idiot!" Peter declared, penitently. "I deservethat you should be unkind to me for the rest of the voyage."
"I could not afford that," she answered, forcing another smile. "I amrelying too much upon you for companionship. Ah! could I trouble you?"she added. "For the moment I need my maid. She passes there."
Peter sprang up and called the young woman, who was slowly pacing thedeck. He himself did not at once return to his place. He went instead insearch of Sogrange, and found him in his stateroom. Sogrange was lyingupon a couch, in a silk smoking suit, with a French novel in his handand an air of contentment which was almost fatuous. He laid down thevolume at Peter's entrance.
"Dear Baron," he murmured, "why this haste! No one is ever in a hurryupon a steamer. Remember that we can't possibly get anywhere in lessthan eight days, and there is no task in the world, nowadays, whichcannot be accomplished in that time. To hurry is a needless wasteof tissue, and, to a person of my nervous temperament, exceedinglyunpleasant."
Peter sat down on the edge of the bunk.
"I presume you have quite finished?" he said. "If so, listen to me. Iam moving in the dark. Is it my fault that I blunder? By the merestaccident I have already committed a hideous faux pas. You ought to havewarned me."
"What do you mean?"
"I have spoken to the Duchesse of the Maine disaster."
The eyes of Sogrange gleamed for a moment, but he lay perfectly still.
"Why not?" he asked. "A good many people are talking about it. It is oneof the strangest things I have ever heard of, that after all these yearsthey should be trying to salve the wreck."
"It seems worse than strange," Peter declared. "What can be the use oftrying to stir up bitter feelings between two nations who have foughttheir battles and buried the hatchet? I call it an act of insanity."
A bugle rang. Sogrange yawned and sat up.
"Would you mind touching the bell for my servant, Baron," he asked."Dinner will be served in half an hour. Afterwards, we will talk, youand I."
Peter turned away, not wholly pleased.
"The sooner, the better," he grumbled, "or I shall be putting my footinto it again."...
After dinner, the two men walked on deck together. The night was darkbut fine, with a strong wind blowing from the northwest. The decksteward called their attention to a long line of lights, stealing upfrom the horizon on their starboard side.
"That's the Lusitania, sir. She'll be up to us in half an hour."
They leaned over the rail. Soon the blue fires began to play about theirmast head. Sogrange watched them thoughtfully.
"If one could only read those messages," he remarked, with a sigh, "itmight help us."
Peter knocked the ash fr
om his cigar and was silent for a time. He wasbeginning to understand the situation.
"My friend," he said at last, "I have been doing you an injustice. Ihave come to the conclusion that you are not keeping me in ignorance ofthe vital facts connected with our visit to America, willfully. At thepresent moment you know just a little more, but a very little more thanI do."
"What perception!" Sogrange murmured. "My dear Baron, sometimesyou amaze me. You are absolutely right. I have some pieces and I amconvinced that they would form a puzzle the solution of which would beinteresting to us, but how or where they fit in, I frankly don't know.You have the facts so far."
"Certainly," Peter replied.
"You have heard of Sirdeller?"
"You mean the Sirdeller?" Peter asked.
"Naturally. I mean the man whose very movements sway the money marketsof the world, the man who could, if he chose, ruin any nation, make warimpossible; who could if he had ten more years of life and was allowedto live, draw to himself and his own following the entire wealth of theuniverse."
"Very eloquent," Peter remarked. "We'll take the rest for granted."
"Then," Sogrange continued, "you have probably also heard of Don Pedro,Prince of Marsine, one time Pretender to the Throne of Spain?"
"Quite a striking figure in European politics," Peter assented, quickly."He is suspected of radical proclivities, and is still, it is rumored,an active plotter against the existing monarchy."
"Very well," Sogrange said. "Now listen carefully. Four months ago,Sirdeller was living at the Golden Villa, near Nice. He was visited morethan once by Marsine, introduced by the Count von Hern. The resultof those visits was a long series of cablegrams to certain greatengineering firms in America. Almost immediately, the salvage of theMaine was started. It is a matter of common report that the entire costof these works is being undertaken by Sirdeller."
"Now," Peter murmured, "you are really beginning to interest me."
"This week," Sogrange went on, "it is expected that the result of thesalvage works will be made known. That is to say, it is highly possiblethat the question of whether the Maine was blown up from outside orinside, will be settled once and for all. This week, mind, Baron. Nowsee what happens. Sirdeller returns to America. The Count von Hern andPrince Marsine come to America. The Duchesse della Nermino comes toAmerica. The Duchesse, Sirdeller and Marsine are upon this steamer. TheCount von Hern travels by the Lusitania only because it was reportedthat Sirdeller at the last minute changed his mind and was traveling bythat boat. Mix these things up in your brain--the conjurer's hat, letus call it," Sogrange concluded, laying his hand upon Peter's arm,"Sirdeller, the Duchesse, Von Hern, Marsine, the raising of theMaine--mix them up and what sort of an omelette appears?"
Peter whistled softly.
"No wonder," he said, "that you couldn't make the pieces of the puzzlefit. Tell me more about the Duchesse?"
Sogrange considered for a moment.
"The principal thing about her which links her with the presentsituation," he explained, "is that she was living in Cuba at the time ofthe Maine disaster, married to a rich Cuban."
The affair was suddenly illuminated by the searchlight of romance.Peter, for the first time, saw not the light, but the possibility of it.
"Marsine has been living in Germany, has he not?" he asked.
"He is a personal friend of the Kaiser," Sogrange replied.
They both looked up and listened to the crackling of the electricityabove their heads.
"I expect Bernadine is a little annoyed," Peter remarked.
"It isn't pleasant to be out of the party," Sogrange agreed. "Nearlyeverybody, however, believed at the last moment that Sirdeller hadtransferred his passage to the Lusitania."
"It's going to cost him an awful lot in marconigrams," Peter said."By the bye, wouldn't it have been better for us to have traveledseparately, and incognito?"
Sogrange shrugged his shoulders slightly.
"Von Hern has at least one man on board," he replied. "I do not thinkthat we could possibly have escaped observation. Besides, I ratherimagine that any move we are able to make in this matter must comebefore we reach Fire Island."
"Have you any theory at all?" Peter asked.
"Not the ghost of a one," Sogrange admitted. "One more fact, though,I forgot to mention. You may find it important. The Duchesse comesentirely against Von Hern's wishes. They have been on intimate terms foryears, but for some reason or other he was exceedingly anxious that sheshould not take this voyage. She, on the other hand, seemed to havesome equally strong reason for coming. The most useful piece of advice Icould give you would be to cultivate her acquaintance."
"The Duchesse--"
Peter never finished his sentence. His companion drew him suddenly backinto the shadow of a lifeboat.
"Look!"
A door had opened from lower down the deck, and a curious littleprocession was coming towards them. A man, burly and broad-shouldered,who had the air of a professional bully, walked by himself ahead. Twoothers of similar build walked a few steps behind. And between them athin, insignificant figure, wrapped in an immense fur coat and usinga strong walking stick, came slowly along the deck. It was likea procession of prison warders guarding a murderer, or perhaps anerve-racked royal personage moving the end of his days in the midst ofenemies. With halting steps the little old man came shambling along. Helooked neither to the left nor to the right. His eyes were fixed and yetunseeing, his features were pale and bony. There was no gleam of life,not even in the stone-cold eyes. Like some machine-made man of a newand physically degenerate age, he took his exercise under the eye of hisdoctor, a strange and miserable-looking object.
"There goes Sirdeller," Sogrange whispered. "Look at him--the man whosemight is greater than any emperor's. There is no haven in the universeto which he does not hold the key. Look at him--master of the world!"
Peter shivered. There was something depressing in the sight of thatmournful procession.
"He neither smokes nor drinks," Sogrange continued. "Women, as a sex, donot exist for him. His religion is a doubting Calvinism. He has a doctorand a clergyman always by his side to inject life and hope if they can.Look at him well, my friend. He represents a great moral lesson."
"Thanks!" Peter replied. "I am going to take the taste of him out of mymouth with a whiskey and soda. Afterwards, I'm for the Duchesse."
But the Duchesse, apparently, was not for Peter. He found her in themusic-room with several of the little Marconi missives spread out beforeher, and she cut him dead. Peter, however, was a brave man, and skilledat the game of bluff. So he stopped by her side and without any preambleaddressed her.
"Duchesse," he said, "you are a woman of perceptions. Which do youbelieve, then, in your heart to be the more trustworthy--the Count vonHern or I?"
She simply stared at him. He continued promptly.
"You have received your warning, I see."
"From whom?"
"From the Count von Hern. Why believe what he says? He may be a friendof yours--he may be a dear friend--but in your heart you know that he isboth unscrupulous and selfish. Why accept his word and distrust me? I,at least, am honest."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Honest?" she repeated. "Whose word have I for that save your own? Andwhat concern is it of mine if you possess every one of the bourgeoisqualities in the world? You are presuming, sir."
"My friend Sogrange will tell you that I am to be trusted," Peterpersisted.
"I see no reason why I should trouble myself about your personalcharacteristics," she replied, coldly. "They do not interest me."
"On the contrary, Duchesse," Peter continued, fencing wildly, "you havenever in your life been more in need of any one's services than you areof mine."
The conflict was uneven. The Duchesse was a nervous, highly strungwoman. The calm assurance of Peter's manner oppressed her with a senseof his mastery. She sank back upon the couch from which she had arisen.
"I wish you
would tell me what you mean," she said. "You have no rightto talk to me in this fashion. What have you to do with my affairs?"
"I have as much to do with them as the Count von Hem," Peter insisted,boldly.
"I have known the Count von Hern," she answered, "for very many years.You have been a shipboard acquaintance of mine for a few hours."
"If you have known the Count von Hern for many years," Peter asserted,"you have found out by this time that he is an absolutely untrustworthyperson."
"Supposing he is," she said, "will you tell me what concern it is ofyours? Do you suppose for one moment that I am likely to discuss myprivate affairs with a perfect stranger?"
"You have no private affairs," Peter declared, sternly. "They are theaffairs of a nation."
She glanced at him with a little shiver.
From that moment he felt that he was gaining ground. She looked aroundthe room. It was still filled, but in their corner they were almostunobserved.
"How much do you know?" she asked in a low tone which shook withpassion.
Peter smiled enigmatically.
"Perhaps more, even, than you, Duchesse," he replied. "I should like tobe your friend. You need one--you know that."
She rose abruptly to her feet.
"For to-night it is enough," she declared, wrapping her fur cloak aroundher. "You may talk to me to-morrow, Baron. I must think. If you desirereally to be my friend, there is, perhaps, one service which I mayrequire of you. But to-night, no!"
Peter stood aside and allowed her to step past him. He was perfectlycontent with the progress he had made. Her farewell salute was by nomeans ungracious. As soon as she was out of sight, he returned to thecouch where she had been sitting. She had taken away the marconigrams,but she had left upon the floor several copies of the New York Herald.He took them up and read them carefully through. The last one he foundparticularly interesting, so much so that he folded it up, placed itin his coat pocket, and went off to look for Sogrange, whom he found atlast in the saloon, watching a noisy game of "Up Jenkins!" Peter sankupon the cushioned seat by his side.
"You were right," he remarked. "Bernadine has been busy."
Sogrange smiled.
"I trust," he said, "that the Duchesse is not proving faithless?"
"So far," Peter replied, "I have kept my end up. Tomorrow will be thetest. Bernadine had filled her with caution. She thinks that I knoweverything--whatever everything may be. Unless I can discover a littlemore than I do now, to-morrow is going to be an exceedingly awkward dayfor me."
"There is every prospect of your acquiring a great deal of valuableinformation before then," Sogrange declared. "Sit tight, my friend.Something is going to happen."
On the threshold of the saloon, ushered in by one of the stewards, atall, powerful-looking man, with a square, well-trimmed black beard,was standing looking around as though in search of some one. The stewardpointed out, with an unmistakable movement of his head, Peter andSogrange. The man approached and took the next table.
"Steward," he directed, "bring me a glass of Vermouth and somedominoes."
Peter's eyes were suddenly bright. Sogrange touched his foot under thetable and whispered a word of warning. The dominoes were brought. Thenewcomer arranged them as though for a game. Then he calmly withdrew thedouble-four and laid it before Sogrange.
"It has been my misfortune, Marquis," he said, "never to have made youracquaintance, although our mutual friends are many, and I think I maysay that I have the right to claim a certain amount of considerationfrom you and your associates. You know me?"
"Certainly, Prince," Sogrange replied. "I am charmed. Permit me topresent my friend, the Baron de Grost."
The newcomer bowed and glanced a little nervously around.
"You will permit me," he begged. "I travel incognito. I have lived solong in England that I have permitted myself the name of an Englishman.I am traveling under the name of Mr. James Fanshawe."
"Mr. Fanshawe, by all means," Sogrange agreed. "In the meantime--"
"I claim my rights as a corresponding member of the Double-Four," thenewcomer declared. "My friend the Count von Hern finds menace to certainplans of ours in your presence upon this steamer. Unknown to him, I cometo you openly. I claim your aid, not your enmity."
"Let us understand one another clearly," Sogrange said. "You claim ouraid in what?"
Mr. Fanshawe glanced around the saloon and lowered his voice.
"I claim your aid towards the overthrowing of the usurping House ofBrangaza and the restoration to power in Spain of my own line."
Sogrange was silent for several moments. Peter was leaning forwardin his place, deeply interested. Decidedly, this American trip seemeddestined to lead towards events!
"Our active aid towards such an end," Sogrange said at last, "isimpossible. The Society of the Double-Four does not interfere in thedomestic policy of other nations for the sake of individual members."
"Then let me ask you why I find you upon this steamer?" Mr. Fanshawedemanded, in a tone of suppressed excitement. "Is it for the sea voyagethat you and your friend the Baron de Grost cross the Atlantic thisparticular week, on the same steamer as myself, as Mr. Sirdeller,and--and the Duchesse? One does not believe in such coincidences! One isdriven to conclude that it is your intention to interfere."
"The affair almost demands our interference," Sogrange replied,smoothly. "With every due respect to you, Prince, there are greatinterests involved in this move of yours."
The Prince was a big man, but for all his large features and beardedface his expression was the expression of a peevish and passionatechild. He controlled himself with an effort.
"Marquis," he said, "this is necessary--I say that it is necessary thatwe conclude an alliance."
Sogrange nodded approvingly.
"It is well spoken," he said, "but remember--the Baron de Grostrepresents England and the English interests of our Society."
The Prince of Marsine's face was not pleasant to look upon.
"Forgive me if you are an Englishman by birth, Baron," he said, turningtowards him, "but a more interfering nation in other people's affairsthan England has never existed in the pages of history. She must have afinger in every pie. Bah!"
Peter leaned over from his place.
"What about Germany--Mr. Fanshawe?" he asked, with emphasis.
The Prince tugged at his beard. He was a little nonplussed.
"The Count von Hern," he confessed, "has been a good friend to me. Therulers of his country have always been hospitable and favorably inclinedtowards my family. The whole affair is of his design. I myself couldscarcely have moved in it alone. One must reward one's helpers. Thereis no reason, however," he added, with a meaning glance at Peter, "whyother helpers should not be admitted."
"The reward which you offer to the Count von Hern," Peter remarked, "isof itself absolutely inimical to the interests of my country."
"Listen!" the Prince demanded, tapping the table before him. "It is truethat within a year I am pledged to reward the Count von Hern in certainfashion. It is not possible that you know the terms of our compact, butfrom your words it is possible that you have guessed. Very well. Acceptthis from me. Remain neutral now, allow this matter to proceed to itsnatural conclusion, let your government address representations to mewhen the time comes, adopting a bold front, and I promise that I willobey them. It will not be my fault that I am compelled to disappointthe Count von Hern. My seaboard would be at the mercy of your fleet.Superior force must be obeyed."
"It is a matter, this," Sogrange said, "for discussion between myfriend and me. I think that you will find that we are neither of usunreasonable. In short, Prince, I see no insuperable reason why weshould not come to terms."
"You encourage me," the Prince declared, in a gratified tone. "Do notbelieve, Marquis, that I am actuated in this matter wholly by motives ofpersonal ambition. No, it is not so. A great desire has burned always inmy heart, but it is not that alone which moves me. I assure you thatof my certa
in knowledge Spain is honeycombed--is rotten with treason. Arevolution is a certainty. How much better that that revolution shouldbe conducted in a dignified manner; that I, with my reputation fordemocracy which I have carefully kept before the eyes of my people,should be elected President of the new Spanish Republic, even if it isthe gold of the American which places me there. In a year or two, whatmay happen who can say? This craving for a republic is but a passingdream. Spain, at heart, is monarchial. She will be led back to thelight. It is but a short step from the president's chair to the throne."
Sogrange and his companion sat quite still. They avoided looking at eachother.
"There is one thing more," the Prince continued, dropping his voice, asif, even at that distance, he feared the man of whom he spoke. "I shallnot inform the Count von Hern of our conversation. It is not necessary,and, between ourselves, the Count is jealous. He sends me message aftermessage that I remain in my stateroom, that I seek no interview withSirdeller, that I watch only. He is too much of the spy--the Count vonHern. He does not understand that code of honor, relying upon which Iopen my heart to you."
"You have done your cause no harm," Sogrange assured him, with subtlesarcasm. "We come now to the Duchesse."
The Prince leaned towards him. It was just at this moment that a stewardentered with a marconigram, which he presented to the Prince. The lattertore it open, glanced it through, and gave vent to a little exclamation.The fingers which held the missive trembled. His eyes blazed withexcitement. He was absolutely unable to control his feelings.
"My two friends," he cried, in a tone broken with emotion, "it is youfirst who shall hear the news! This message has just arrived. Sirdellerwill have received its duplicate. The final report of the worksin Havana Harbor will await us on our arrival in New York, but thesubstance of it is this. The Maine was sunk by a torpedo, discharged atclose quarters underneath her magazine. Gentlemen, the House of Brangazais ruined!"
There was a breathless silence.
"Your information is genuine?" Sogrange asked, softly.
"Without a doubt," the Prince replied. "I have been expecting thismessage. I shall cable to Von Hern. We are still in communication. Hemay not have heard."
"We were about to speak of the Duchesse," Peter reminded him.
The Prince shook his head.
"Another time," he declared. "Another time."
He hurried away. It was already half past ten and the saloon was almostempty. The steward came up to them.
"The saloon is being closed for the night, sir," he announced.
"Let us go on deck," Peter suggested.
They found their way up on to the windward side of the promenade,which was absolutely deserted. Far away in front of them now were thedisappearing lights of the Lusitania. The wind roared by as the greatsteamer rose and fell on the black stretch of waters. Peter stood verynear to his companion.
"Listen, Sogrange," he said, "the affair is clear now save for onething."
"You mean Sirdeller's motives?"
"Not at all," Peter answered. "An hour ago, I came across theexplanation of these. The one thing I will tell you afterwards. Nowlisten. Sirdeller came abroad last year for twelve months' travel. Hetook a great house in San Sebastian."
"Where did you hear this?" Sogrange asked.
"I read the story in the New York Herald," Peter continued. "It isgrossly exaggerated, of course, but this is the substance of it.Sirdeller and his suite were stopped upon the Spanish frontier andtreated in an abominable fashion by the customs officers. He was forcedto pay a very large sum, unjustly I should think. He paid under protest,appealed to the authorities, with no result. At San Sebastian he wasrobbed right and left, his privacy intruded upon. In short, he took aviolent dislike and hatred to the country and every one concerned in it.He moved with his entire suite to Nice, to the Golden Villa. There heexpressed himself freely concerning Spain and her Government. Count vonHern heard of it and presented Marsine. The plot was, without doubt,Bernadine's. Can't you imagine how he would put it? 'A revolution,' hewould tell Sirdeller, 'is imminent in Spain. Here is the new Presidentof the Republic. Money is no more to you than water. You are a patrioticAmerican. Have you forgotten that a warship of your country with sixhundred of her devoted citizens was sent to the bottom by the treacheryof one of this effete race? The war was an inefficient revenge. Thecountry still flourishes. It is for you to avenge America. With moneyMarsine can establish a republic in Spain within twenty-four hours.'Sirdeller hesitates. He would point out that it had never been provedthat the destruction of the Maine was really due to Spanish treachery.It is the idea of a business man which followed. He, at his own expense,would raise the Maine. If it were true that the explosion occurred fromoutside, he would find the money. You see, the message has arrived.After all these years the sea has given up its secret. Marsine willreturn to Spain with an unlimited credit behind him. The House ofBrangaza will crumble up like a pack of cards."
Sogrange looked out into the darkness. Perhaps he saw in that greatblack gulf the pictures of these happenings which his companion hadprophesied. Perhaps, for a moment, he saw the panorama of a city inflames, the passing of a great country under the thrall of these newideas. At any rate, he turned abruptly away from the side of the vessel,and taking Peter's arm, walked slowly down the deck.
"You have solved the puzzle, Baron," he said, gravely. "Now tell me theone thing. Your story seems to dovetail everywhere."
"The one thing," Peter said, "is connected with the Duchesse. It wasshe, of her own will, who decided to come to America. I believe that,but for her coming, Bernadine and the Prince would have waited in theirown country. Money can flash from America to England over the wires. Itdoes not need to be fetched. They have still one fear. It is connectedwith the Duchesse. Let me think."
They walked up and down the deck. The lights were extinguished one byone, except in the smoking-room. A strange breed of sailors from thelower deck came up with mops and buckets. The wind changed its quarterand the great ship began to roll. Peter stopped abruptly.
"I find this motion most unpleasant," he said. "I am going to bed.To-night I cannot think. To-morrow, I promise you, we will solve this.Hush!"
He held out his hand and drew his companion back into the shadow ofa lifeboat. A tall figure was approaching them along the deck. As hepassed the little ray of light thrown out from the smoking-room, theman's features were clearly visible. It was the Prince. He was walkinglike one absorbed in thought. His eyes were set like a sleep-walker's.With one hand he gesticulated. The fingers of the other were twitchingall the time. His head was lifted to the skies. There was something inhis face which redeemed it from its disfiguring petulance.
"It is the man who dreams of power," Peter whispered. "It is one of hisbest moments, this. He forgets the vulgar means by which he intends torise. He thinks only of himself, the dictator, king, perhaps emperor. Heis of the breed of egoists."
Again and again the Prince passed, manifestly unconscious even of hiswhereabouts. Peter and Sogrange crept away unseen to their staterooms.
In many respects the room resembled a miniature court of justice. Theprincipal sitting-room of the royal suite, which was the chief gloryof the Adriatic, had been stripped of every superfluous article offurniture or embellishment. Curtains had been removed, all evidences ofluxury disposed of. Temporarily the apartment had been transformed intoa bare, cheerless place. Seated on a high chair, with his back to thewall, was Sirdeller. At his right hand was a small table, on which stooda glass of milk, a phial, a stethoscope. Behind his doctor. At his lefthand a smooth-faced, silent young man--his secretary. Before him stoodthe Duchesse, Peter and Sogrange. Guarding the door was one of thewatchmen, who, from his great physique, might well have been a policemanout of livery. Sirdeller himself, in the clear light which streamedthrough the large window, seemed more aged and shrunken than ever. Hiseyes were deep set. No tinge of color was visible in his cheeks. Hischin protruded, his shaggy gray eyebrows gave him an unkempt a
ppearance.He wore a black velvet gown, a strangely cut black morning coat andtrousers, felt slippers, and his hands were clasped upon a stout ashwalking-stick. He eyed the newcomers keenly but without expression.
"The lady may sit," he said.
He spoke almost in an undertone, as though anxious to avoid the fatigueof words. The guardian of the door placed a chair, into which theDuchesse subsided. Sirdeller held his right hand towards his doctor, whofelt his pulse. All the time Sirdeller watched him, his lips a littleparted, a world of hungry excitement in his eyes. The doctor closed hiswatch with a snap and whispered something in Sirdeller's ear, apparentlyreassuring.
"I will hear this story," Sirdeller announced. "In two minutes every onemust leave. If it takes longer, it must remain unfinished."
Peter spoke up briskly.
"The story is this," he began. "You have promised to assist the Princeof Marsine to transform Spain into a republic, providing the salvageoperations on the Maine prove that that ship was destroyed from outside.The salvage operations have been conducted at your expense and finished.It has been proved that the Maine was destroyed by a mine or torpedofrom the outside. Therefore, on the assumption that it was thetreacherous deed of a Spaniard or Cuban imagining himself to be apatriot, you are prepared to carry out your undertaking and supply thePrince of Marsine with means to overthrow the Kingdom of Spain."
Peter paused. The figure on the chair remained motionless. No flickerof intelligence or interest disturbed the calm of his features. It wasa silence almost unnatural. "I have brought the Duchesse here," Petercontinued, "to tell you the truth as to the Maine disaster."
Not even then was there the slightest alteration in those ashen grayfeatures. The Duchesse looked up. She had the air of one only too eagerto speak and finish.
"In those days," she said, "I was the wife of a rich Cuban gentleman,whose name I withhold. The American officers on board the Maine used tovisit at our house. My husband was jealous; perhaps he had cause."
The Duchesse paused. Even though the light of tragedy and romance sideby side seemed suddenly to creep into the room, Sirdeller listened asone come back from a dead world.
"One night," the Duchesse went on, "my husband's suspicions were changedinto knowledge. He came home unexpectedly. The American--the officer--Iloved him--he was there on the balcony with me. My husband said nothing.The officer returned to the ship. That night my husband came into myroom. He bent over my bed. 'It is not you,' he whispered, 'whom I shalldestroy, for the pain of death is short. Anguish of mind may live.To-night six hundred ghosts may hang about your pillow!'"
Her voice broke. There was something grim and unnatural in that curiousstillness. Even the secretary was at last breathing a little faster.The watchman at the door was leaning forward. Sirdeller simply moved hishand to the doctor, who held up his finger while he felt the pulse. Thebeat of his watch seemed to sound through the unnatural silence. In aminute he spoke.
"The lady may proceed," he announced.
"My husband," the Duchesse continued, "was an officer in charge of theMines and Ordnance Department. He went out that night in a small boat,after a visit to the strong house. No soul has ever seen or heard of himsince, or his boat. It is only I who know!"
Her voice died away. Sirdeller stretched out his hand and verydeliberately drank a tablespoonful or two of his milk.
"I believe the lady's story," he declared. "The Marsine affair isfinished. Let no one be admitted to have speech with me again upon thissubject."
He had half turned towards his secretary. The young man bowed. Thedoctor pointed towards the door. The Duchesse, Peter and Sogrange filedslowly out. In the bright sunlight the Duchesse burst into a peal ofhysterical laughter. Even Peter felt, for a moment, unnerved. Suddenlyhe, too, laughed.
"I think," he said, "that you and I had better get out of the way,Sogrange, when the Count von Hern meets us at New York!"