CHAPTER IV
Without offending Mr. Van Torp, Lady Maud managed not to see him againfor some time, and when he understood, as he soon did, that this washer wish, he made no attempt to force himself upon her. She wasprobably thinking over what he had said, and in the end she wouldexert her influence as he had begged her to do. He was thoroughlypersuaded that there was nothing unfair in his proposal and that, whenshe was convinced that he was right, she would help him. In achequered career that had led to vast success, he had known people whocalled themselves honest and respectable but who had done unpardonablethings for a hundredth part of what he offered. Like all realfinanciers, he knew money as a force, not as a want, very much as anystrong working man knows approximately how much he can lift or carry,and reckons with approximate certainty on his average strength. Tospeak in his own language, Mr. Van Torp knew about how manyhorse-power could be got out of any sum of money, from ten cents tomore millions than he chose to speak of in his own case.
And once more, before I go on with this tale, let me say that hisfriendship for Lady Maud was so honest that he would never have askedher to do anything he thought 'low down.' To paraphrase a wise sayingof Abraham Lincoln's, some millionaires mean to be bad all the time,but are not, and some are bad all the time but do not mean to be, butno millionaires mean to be bad all the time and really are. Rufus VanTorp certainly did not mean to be, according to his lights, though inhis life he had done several things which he did not care to remember;and the righteous had judged him with the ferocious integrity of menwho never take a penny unjustly nor give one away under anycircumstances.
But when he had taken the first step towards accomplishing hispurpose, he was very much at a loss as to the next, and he saw that hehad never undertaken anything so difficult since he had reorganisedthe Nickel Trust, trebled the stock, cleared a profit of thirtymillions and ruined nobody but the small-fry, who of course deservedit on the principle that people who cannot keep money ought not tohave any. Some unkind newspaper man had then nicknamed it the BrassTrust, and had called him Brassy Van Torp; but it is of no use tothrow mud at the Golden Calf, for the dirt soon dries to dust andfalls off, leaving the animal as beautifully shiny as ever.
Mr. Van Torp did not quite see how he could immediately apply theforce of money to further his plans with effect. He knew hisadversary's financial position in Europe much too well to think oftrying to attack him on that ground; and besides, in his rough codeit would not be fair play to do that. It was 'all right' to ruin ahostile millionaire in order to get his money. That was 'business.'But to ruin him for the sake of a woman was 'low down.' It would bemuch more 'all right' to shoot him, after fair and due warning, and tocarry off the lady. That was impossible in a civilised country, ofcourse; but as it occurred to him, while he was thinking, that hemight find it convenient to go somewhere in a hurry by sea, he boughta perfectly new yacht that was for sale because the owner had died ofheart disease the week after she was quite ready to take him to theMediterranean. The vessel was at least as big as one of the oceanliners of fifty years ago, and had done twenty-two and one-tenth knotson her trial. Mr. Van Torp took her over as she was, with herofficers, crew, cook and stores, and rechristened her. She had beenlaunched as the _Alwayn_; he called her the _Lancashire Lass_--a bitof sentiment on his part, for that was the name of a mare belonging toLady Maud's father, which he had once ridden bareback when he was inan amazing hurry.
He had one interview with the Captain.
'See here, Captain,' he said, 'I may not want to take a trip thisseason. I'm that sort of a man. I may or I may not. But if I do wantyou, I'll want you quick. See?'
With the last word, he looked up suddenly, and the Captain 'saw,' forhe met a pair of eyes that astonished him.
'Yes, I see,' he answered mechanically.
'And if you're in one place with your boat, and I wire that I want youin another, I'd like you to get there right away,' said Mr. Van Torp.
'Yes, sir.'
'They say she'll do twenty-two and a tenth,' continued the owner, 'butwhen I wire I want you I'd like her to do as much more as she canwithout bursting a lung. If you don't think you've got the kind ofengineer who'll keep her red-hot, tell me right off and we'll getanother. And don't you fuss about burning coal, Captain. And see thatthe crew get all they can eat and not a drop of drink but tea andcoffee, and if you let 'em go on shore once in a way, see that theycome home right side up with care, Captain, and make each of 'em say"truly rural" and "British Constitution" before he goes to bed, and ifhe can't, you just unship him, or whatever you call it on a boat.Understand, Captain?'
The Captain understood and kept his countenance.
'Now, I want to know one thing,' continued the new owner. 'What's thenearest sea-port to Bayreuth, Bavaria?'
'Venice,' answered the Captain without the least hesitation, and soquickly that Mr. Van Torp was immediately suspicious.
'If that's so, you're pretty smart,' he observed.
'You can telephone to Cook's office, sir, and ask them,' said theCaptain quietly.
The instrument was on the table at Mr. Van Torp's elbow. He lookedsharply at the Captain, as he unhooked the receiver and set it to hisear. In a few seconds communication was given.
'Cook's office? Yes. Yes. This is Mr. Van Torp, Rufus Van Torp of NewYork. Yes. I want to know what's the nearest sea-port to Bayreuth,Bavaria. Yes. Yes. That's just what I want to know. Yes. I'll hold thewire while you look it up.'
He was not kept waiting long.
'Venice, you say? You're sure you're right, I suppose? Yes. Yes. I wasonly asking. No thank you. If I want a ticket I'll look in myself.Much obliged. Good-bye.'
He hung the receiver in its place again, and turned to his Captainwith a different expression, in which admiration and satisfaction werequite apparent.
'Well,' he said, 'you're right. It's Venice. I must say that, for anEnglishman, you're quite smart.'
The Captain smiled quietly, but did not think it worth while toexplain that the last owner with whom he had sailed had beenWagner-mad and had gone to Bayreuth regularly. Moreover, he had judgedhis man already.
'Am I to proceed to Venice at once, sir?' he asked.
'As quick as you can, Captain.'
The Englishman looked at his watch deliberately, and made a shortmental calculation before he said anything. It was eleven in themorning.
'I can get to sea by five o'clock this afternoon, sir. Will that do?'
Mr. Van Torp was careful not to betray the least surprise.
'Yes,' he said, as if he were not more than fairly satisfied, 'that'lldo nicely.'
'Very well, sir, then I'll be off. It's about three thousand miles,and she's supposed to do that at eighteen knots with her own coal. Sayeight days. But as this is her maiden trip we must make allowance forhaving to stop the engines once or twice. Good-morning, sir.'
'Good-day, Captain. Get in some coal and provisions as soon as youarrive in Venice. I may want to go to Timbuctoo, or to Andaman Islandsor something. I'm that sort of a man. I'm not sure where I'll go.Good-bye.'
The Captain stopped at the first telegraph office on his way to theWaterloo Station and telegraphed both to his chief engineer, Mr.M'Cosh, and his chief mate, Mr. Johnson, for he thought it barelypossible that one or the other might be ashore.
'Must have steam by 4 P.M. to-day to sail at once long voyage. Comingnext train. Owner in hurry. Send ashore for my wash. Brown, Captain.'
When the clocks struck five on shore that afternoon, and the man atthe wheel struck two bells from the wheel-house, and the look-outforward repeated them on the ship's bell, all according to the mostapproved modern fashion on large steamers, the beautiful _LancashireLass_ was steaming out upon Southampton Water.
Out of the merest curiosity Mr. Van Torp telegraphed to Cowes to beinformed of the exact moment at which his yacht was under way, andbefore six o'clock he had a message.
'Yacht sailed at four thirty-nine.'
The new owner was so much
pleased that he actually smiled, for CaptainBrown had been twenty-one minutes better than his word.
'I guess he'll do,' thought Mr. Van Torp. 'I only hope I may needhim.'
He was not at all sure that he should need the _Lancashire Lass_ andCaptain Brown; but it has often been noticed that in the lives of bornfinanciers even their caprices often turn out to their advantage, andthat their least logical impulses in business matters are worth morethan the sober judgment of ordinary men.
As for Captain Brown, he was a quiet little person with a rather pinkface and sparkling blue eyes, and he knew his business. In fact he hadpassed as Extra Master. He knew that he was in the service of one ofthe richest men in the world, and that he commanded a vessel likely toturn out one of the finest yachts afloat, and he did not mean to losesuch a berth either by piling up his ship, or by being slow to dowhatever his owner wished done, within the boundaries of the possible;but it had not occurred to him that his owner might order him toexceed the limits of anything but mere possibility, such, forinstance, as those of the law, civil, criminal, national, orinternational.
Mr. Van Torp had solid nerves, but when he had sent his yacht to theonly place where he thought he might possibly make use of it, herealised that he was wasting valuable time while Logotheti was makingall the running, and his uncommon natural energy, finding nothing towork upon as yet, made him furiously impatient. It seemed to hum andsing in his head, like the steam in an express engine when it iswaiting to start.
He had come over to England on an impulse, as soon as he had heard ofCordova's engagement. Until then he had not believed that she wouldever accept the Greek, and when he learned from Lady Maud's letterthat the fact was announced, he 'saw red,' and his resolution toprevent the marriage was made then and there. He had no idea how heshould carry it out, but he knew that he must either succeed or cometo grief in the attempt, for as long as he had any money left, or anystrength, he would spend both lavishly for that one purpose.
Yet he did not know how to begin, and his lack of imaginationexasperated him beyond measure. He was sleepless and lost hisappetite, which had never happened to him before; he stayed on inLondon instead of going down to his place in Derbyshire, because hewas always sure that he meant to start for the Continent in a fewhours, with an infallible plan for success; but he did not go.
The most absurd schemes suggested themselves. He was disgusted withwhat he took for his own stupidity, and he tried to laugh at thesentimental vein that ran through all his thoughts as the threadthrough a string of beads. He grew hot and cold as he recalled thetime when he had asked Margaret to marry him, and he had frightenedher and she had fled and locked herself into her own room; his heartbeat faster when he thought of certain kindly words she had said tohim since then, and on which he built up a great hope now, though theyhad meant nothing more to her than a general forgiveness, where shereally had very little to forgive. A genuine offer of marriage from amillionaire is not usually considered an insult, but since she hadchosen to look at it in that light, he was humble enough to begrateful for her pardon. If he had not been so miserably in love hewould have been even more amazed and alarmed at his own humility, forhe had not shown signs of such weakness before. In a life which hadbeen full of experience, though it was not yet long, he had convincedhimself that the 'softening' which comes with years, and of which kindpeople often speak with so much feeling, generally begins in thebrain; and the thought that he himself was growing less hard than hehad been, already filled him with apprehension. He asked himself whyhe had withdrawn from the Nickel Trust, unless it was because hisfaculties were failing prematurely. At the mere thought, he craved thelong-familiar excitement of making money, and risking it, and hewished he had a railway or a line of steamers to play with; since hecould not hit upon the scheme for which he was racking his brains. Foronce in his life, too, he felt lonely, and to make it worse he had notreceived a line from his friend Lady Maud since she had abruptly lefthim in her own drawing-room. He wondered whether she had yet made upher mind to help him.
He was living in a hotel in London, though he did not like it.Americans, as a rule, would a little rather live in hotels than inhouses of their own, perhaps because it is less trouble and no dearer,at least not in American cities. Housekeeping in New York can be donewith less risk by a company than by an individual, for companies donot succumb to nervous prostration, whatever may happen to theiremployees.
But Mr. Van Torp was an exception to the rule, for he liked privacy,and even solitude, and though few men were better able to face anewspaper reporter in fair fight, he very much preferred not to beperpetually on the look-out lest he should be obliged to escape byback stairs and side doors, like a hunted thief. He felt safer fromsuch visits in London than in New York or Paris, but only relativelyso.
He was meditating on the future one morning, over an almost untouchedbreakfast, between nine and ten o'clock, when his man Stemp brought avisiting card.
'Reporter?' he inquired, without looking up, as he leaned far back inhis chair, his gaze riveted on the cold buttered toast.
'No, sir. It's some sort of a foreigner, and he talks a heathenlanguage.'
'Oh, he does, does he?' The question was asked in a tone of far-awayindifference.
'Yes, sir.'
A long silence followed. Mr. Van Torp still stared at the butteredtoast and appeared to have forgotten all about the card. Stempendeavoured very tactfully to rouse him from his reverie.
'Shall I get you some more hot toast, sir?' he inquired very gently.
'Toast? No. No toast.'
He did not move; his steady gaze did not waver. Stemp waited a longtime, motionless, with his little salver in his hand. At last Van Torpchanged his position, threw his head so far back that it rested on thetop of the chair, thrust his hands deep into the pockets of histrousers and stared at the ceiling as intently as he had gazed at theplate. Then he spoke to his man again.
'Stemp.'
'Yes, sir.'
'What do you suppose that fellow wants, now, Stemp? Do you suppose hethinks I speak his heathen language? What does he come bothering mefor? What's the good?'
'Well, sir,' answered Stemp, 'I can't quite say, but I believe there'ssomething written on the card if you care to look at it, sir, and hehas a person with him that speaks a little English. Shall I throw himout, sir?'
Stemp asked the question with such perfect gravity that, being anEnglishman, he might very well have been thought to mean the wordsliterally. But he did not. He merely adopted Mr. Van Torp's usual wayof expressing that the master was not at home.
'I'll look at the card, anyway.'
He stretched out one hand without turning his eyes towards it; thecareful Stemp promptly brought the little salver into contact with thelarge fingers, which picked up the card and raised it deliberately tothe line of vision. By this means Mr. Van Torp saved himself thetrouble of turning his head.
It was a rather large card, bearing in the middle two or threeodd-looking signs which meant nothing to him, but underneath them heread in plain characters the single work 'Barak.'
'Barrack!' grumbled the American. 'Rubbish! Why not "teapot," or"rocking-horse," or anything else that's appropriate?'
As he paused for an answer, Stemp ventured to speak.
'Can't say, sir. P'rhaps it's the only word he knows, sir, so he's hadit printed.'
Van Torp turned his head at last, and his eyes glared unpleasantly ashe examined his valet's face. But the Englishman's features wereutterly impassive; if they expressed anything it was contempt for theheathen person outside, who only knew one word of English.
Mr. Van Torp seemed satisfied and glanced at the card again.
'I guess you didn't mean to be funny,' he said, as if acknowledgingthat he had made a mistake.
'Certainly not, sir,' answered Stemp, drawing himself up with an airof injured pride, for he felt that his professional manners weresuspected, if not actually criticised.
'That's all right,' observed Mr. Van
Torp, turning the card over. 'Oh,the writing's on the back, I see. Yes. Now, that's very curious, Imust say,' he said, after reading the words. 'That's very curious,' herepeated, laying strong and equal emphasis on the last two words. 'Askhim to walk in, Stemp.'
'Yes, sir. With the man who speaks English for him, I suppose, sir?'
'No. He can wait outside till I want him, and you can go away too.I'll see the man alone.'
'Very good, sir.'
As the valet went out Mr. Van Torp turned his chair half round withoutgetting up, so that he sat facing the door. A moment later Stemp hadushered in the visitor, and was gone.
A slim youth came forward without boldness, but without the leasttimidity, as if he were approaching an equal. He had an oval face, nomoustache, a complexion like cream, short and thick black hair andvery clear dark eyes that met the American's fearlessly. He was underthe average height, and he wore rather thin, loose grey clothes thathad been made by a good tailor. His hands and feet were smaller than aEuropean's.
'So you're Mr. Barrack,' Mr. Van Torp said, nodding pleasantly.
The young face smiled, and the parted lips showed quite perfectteeth.
'Barak,' answered the young man, giving the name the right sound.
'Yes, I understand, but I can't pronounce it like you. Take a chair,Mr. Barrack, and draw up to the table.'
The young man understood the gesture that explained the speech and satdown.
'So you're a friend of Mr. Logotheti's, and he advised you to come tome? Understand? Logotheti of Paris.'
Barak smiled again, and nodded quickly as he recognised the name. TheAmerican watched his face attentively.
'All right,' he continued. 'You can trot out your things now, right onthe table-cloth here.'
He had seen enough of Indians and Mexicans in his youth to learn thesimple art of using signs, and he easily made his meaning clear to hisvisitor. Barak produced a little leathern bag, not much bigger than anordinary purse, and fastened with thin thongs, which he slowly untied.Mr. Van Torp watched the movements of the delicate fingers with greatinterest, for he was an observant man.
'With those hands,' he silently reflected, 'it's either a lady or athief, or both.'
Barak took several little twists of tissue paper from the bag, laidthem in a row on the table-cloth, and then began to open them one byone. Each tiny parcel contained a ruby, and when the young man countedthem there were five in all, and they were fine stones if they weregenuine; but Mr. Van Torp was neither credulous nor easily surprised.When Barak looked to see what impression he had produced on such adesirable buyer, he was disappointed.
'Nice,' said the American carelessly; 'nice rubies, but I've seenbetter. I wonder if they're real, anyway. They've found out how tomake them by chemistry now, you know.'
But Barak understood nothing, of course, beyond the fact that Mr. VanTorp seemed indifferent, which was a common trick of wily customers;but there was something about this one's manner that was not assumed.Barak took the finest of the stones with the tips of his slender youngfingers, laid it in the palm of his other hand, and held it under Mr.Van Torp's eyes, looking at him with an inquiring expression. But theAmerican shook his head.
'No rubies to-day, thank you,' he said.
Barak nodded quietly, and at once began to wrap up the stones, each inits own bit of paper, putting the twists back into the bag one by one.Then he drew the thongs together and tied them in a neat sort of knotwhich Mr. Van Torp had never seen. The young man then rose to go, butthe millionaire stopped him.
'Say, don't go just yet. I'll show you a ruby that'll make you situp.'
He rose as he spoke, and Barak understood his smile and question, andwaited. Mr. Van Torp went into the next room, and came back almostimmediately, bringing a small black morocco case, which he set on thetable and unlocked with a little key that hung on his watch-chain. Hewas not fond of wearing jewellery, and the box held all hispossessions of that sort, and was not full. There were three or foursets of plain studs and links; there were half a dozen very big goldcollar-studs; there was a bit of an old gold chain, apparently cut offat each end, and having one cheap little diamond set in each link; andthere was a thin old wedding-ring that must have been a woman's;besides a few other valueless trinkets, all lying loose and inconfusion. Mr. Van Torp shook the box a little, poked the contentsabout with one large finger, and soon found an uncut red stone aboutthe size of a hazel-nut, which he took out and placed on the whitecloth before his visitor.
'Now that's what I call a ruby,' he said, with a smile ofsatisfaction. 'Got any like that, young man? Because if you have I'lltalk to you, maybe. Yes,' he continued, watching the Oriental's face,'I told you I'd make you sit up. But I didn't mean to scare youbald-headed. What's the matter with you, anyway? Your eyes are poppingout of your head. Do you feel as if you were going to have a fit? Isay! Stemp!'
Barak was indeed violently affected by the sight of the uncut ruby,and his face had changed in a startling way; a great vein like awhipcord suddenly showed itself on his smooth forehead straight up anddown; his lids had opened so wide that they uncovered the white of theeye almost all round the iris; he was biting his lower lip so that itwas swollen and blood-red against the little white teeth; and a momentbefore Mr. Van Torp had called out to his servant, the young man hadreeled visibly, and would perhaps have collapsed if the American hadnot caught the slender waist and supported the small head against hisshoulder with his other hand.
Stemp was not within hearing. He had been told to go away, and he hadgone, and meant to be rung for when he was wanted, for he had suffereda distinct slight in being suspected of a joke. Therefore Mr. Van Torpcalled to him in vain, and meanwhile stood where he was with his armround Barak, and Barak's head on his shoulder; but as no one came athis call, he lifted the slim figure gently and carried it towards thesofa, and while he was crossing the large room with his burden thepalpable truth was forced upon him that his visitor's slimness wasmore apparent than real, and an affair of shape rather than of pounds.Before he had quite reached the lounge, however, Barak stirred,wriggled in his arms, and sprang to the floor and stood upright,blinking a little, like a person waking from a dream, but quitesteady, and trying to smile in an apologetic sort of way, thoughevidently still deeply disturbed. Mr. Van Torp smiled, too, as if tooffer his congratulations on the quick recovery.
'Feel better now?' he inquired in a kindly tone, and nodded. 'I wonderwhat on earth you're up to, young lady?' he soliloquised, watchingBarak's movements.
He was much too cautious and wise to like being left alone for manyminutes with a girl, and a good-looking one, who went about Londondressed in men's clothes and passed herself for a ruby merchant. Mr.Van Torp was well aware that he was not a safe judge of preciousstones, that the rubies he had seen might very well be imitation, andthat the girl's emotion at the sight of the rough stone might be onlya piece of clever acting, the whole scene having been planned by agang of thieves for the purpose of robbing him of that very ruby,which was worth a large sum, even in his estimation; for it was nearlythe counterpart of the one he had given Lady Maud, though still uncut.
Therefore he returned to the table and slipped the gem into his pocketbefore going to the door to see whether Stemp was within hail.
But Barak now understood what he was going to do, and ran before him,and stood before the door in an attitude which expressed entreaty soclearly that Mr. Van Torp was puzzled.
'Well,' he said, standing still and looking into the beautifulimploring eyes, 'what on earth do you want now, Miss Barrack? Try andexplain yourself.'
A very singular conversation by signs now began.
Barak pointed to the waistcoat-pocket into which he had put the stone.The matter concerned that, of course, and Van Torp nodded. Next,though after considerable difficulty, she made him understand that shewas asking how he had got it, and when this was clear, he answered bypretending to count out coins with his right hand on the palm of hisleft to explain that he had bought it. Ther
e was no mistaking this,and Barak nodded quickly and went on to her next question. She wantedto know what kind of man had sold him the ruby. She improvised apretty little dumb show in which she represented the seller and Mr.Van Torp the buyer of the ruby, and then by gestures she asked if theman who sold it was tall.
Van Torp raised his hand several inches higher than his own head. Hehad bought the ruby from a very tall man. Putting both hands to herchin and then drawing them down as if stroking a long beard, sheinquired if the man had one, and again the answer was affirmative. Shenodded excitedly and pointed first to Van Torp's sandy hair and thento her own short black locks. The American pointed to his own, andthen touched his watch-chain and smiled. The man's hair was fair, andeven golden. By a similar process she ascertained that his eyes wereblue and not black, and her excitement grew. Last of all she tried toask where the man was, but it was some time before she could make Mr.Van Torp understand what she meant. As if to help her out of herdifficulty, the sun shone through the clouds at that moment andstreamed into the room; she pointed to it at once, turned her back toit, and then held out her right hand to indicate the east, and herleft to the west.
'Oh, yes,' said Van Torp, who had seen Indians do the same thing, 'itwas west of here that I bought it of him, a good way west.'
He pointed in that direction, and thrust out his arm as if he wouldmake it reach much further if he could. At this Barak looked deeplydisappointed. Several times, to show that she meant London, or atleast England, she pointed to the floor at her feet and lookedinquiringly at Van Torp, but he shook his head and pointed to thewest again, and made a gesture that meant crossing something. He spoketo her as if she could understand.
'I've got your meaning,' he said. 'You're after the big man with theyellow beard, who is selling rubies from the same place, and has verylikely gone off with yours. He looked like a bad egg in spite of hishandsome face.'
He turned his eyes thoughtfully to the window. Barak plucked gently athis sleeve and pretended to write in the palm of her left hand, andthen went through all the descriptive gestures again, and then oncemore pretended to write, and coaxingly pushed him towards a littletable on which she saw writing materials.
'You'd like to have his address, would you, Miss Barrack? I wonder whyyou don't call in your interpreter and tell me so. It would be muchsimpler than all this dumb crambo.'
Once more he made a step towards the door, but she caught at hissleeve, and entreated him in her own language not to call any one; andher voice was so deliciously soft and beseeching that he yielded, andsat down at the small table and wrote out an address from memory. Hehanded her the half-sheet of paper when he had dried the writing andhad looked over it carefully.
'Poor little thing!' he said in a tone of pity. 'If you ever find himhe'll eat you.'
"'You want my blessing, do you, Miss Barrack?'"]
Barak again showed signs of great emotion when she put the addressinto an inside pocket of her man's coat, but it was not of the samekind as before. She took Van Torp's big hand in both her own, and,bending down, she laid it on her head, meaning that he mightdispose of her life ever afterwards. But he did not understand.
'You want my blessing, do you, Miss Barrack? Some people don't thinkBrassy Van Torp's blessing worth much, young lady, but you're welcometo it, such as it is.'
He patted her thick hair and smiled as she looked up, and her eyeswere dewy with tears.
'That's all right, my dear,' he said. 'Don't cry!'
She smiled too, because his tone was kind, and, standing up, she tookout her little leathern bag again quickly, emptied the twists of paperinto her hand, selected one by touch, and slipped the rest back. Sheunwrapped a large stone and held it up to the light, turning it alittle as she did so. Van Torp watched her with curiosity, and with anamused suspicion that she had perhaps played the whole scene in orderto mollify him and induce him to buy something. So many people hadplayed much more elaborate tricks in the hope of getting money fromhim, and the stones might be imitations after all, in spite ofLogotheti's pencilled line of recommendation.
But Barak's next action took Van Torp by surprise. To his amazement,she pressed the ruby lightly to her heart, then to her lips, and lastof all to her forehead, and before he knew what she was doing she hadplaced it in his right hand and closed his fingers upon it. It was athank-offering.
'Nonsense!' objected the millionaire, smiling, but holding out thestone to her. 'It's very sweet of you, but you don't mean it, and Idon't take presents like that. Why, it's worth a thousand pounds inBond Street any day!'
But she put her hands behind her back and shook her head, to show thatshe would not take it back. Then with her empty hand she again touchedher heart, her lips, and forehead, and turned towards the door.
'Here, stop!' said Mr. Van Torp, going after her. 'I can't take thisthing! See here, I say! Put it back into your pocket!'
She turned and met him, and made a gesture of protest and entreaty, asif earnestly begging him to keep the gem. He looked at her keenly, andhe was a judge of humanity, and saw that she was hurt by his refusal.As a last resource, he took out his pocket-book and showed her aquantity of folded bank-notes.
'Well,' he said, 'since you insist, Miss Barrack, I'll buy the stoneof you, but I'll be everlastingly jiggered if I'll take it fornothing.'
Barak's eyes suddenly flashed in a most surprising way, her lower lippouted, and her cheek faintly changed colour, as a drop of scarletpomegranate juice will tinge a bowl of cream.
She made one step forwards, plucked the stone from his fingers, ratherthan took it, and with a quick, but girlishly awkward movement, threwit towards the window as hard as she could, stamping angrily with herlittle foot at the same moment. Mr. Van Torp was extremelydisconcerted, as he sometimes was by the sudden actions of the sex hedid not understand. Fortunately the stone hit the wall instead ofgoing out of the window.
'I'm really very sorry, Miss Barrack,' he said in a tone of humbleapology, and he went quickly and picked up the gem. 'I hadn't quiteunderstood, you see.'
She watched him, and drew back instinctively towards the door, as ifexpecting that he would again try to give it back to her. But he shookhis head now, bowed with all the grace he could affect, which waslittle, and by way of making her feel that he accepted the gift, hepressed it to his heart, as she had done, and to his lips, but not tohis forehead, because he was afraid that might cause some new mistake,as he did not know what the gesture meant.
Barak's face changed instantly; she smiled, nodded, and waved her handto him, to say that it was all right, and that she was quitesatisfied. Then she made a sort of salute that he thought verygraceful indeed, as if she were taking something from near the floorand laying it on her forehead, and she laughed softly and was out ofthe room and had shut the door before he could call her back again.
He stood still in the middle of the room, looking at the gem in hishand with an expression of grave doubt.
'Well,' he said to himself, and his lips formed the words, though nosound articulated them, 'that's a queer sort of a morning's work,anyway.'
He reflected that the very last thing he had ever expected was apresent of a fine ruby from a pretty heathen girl in man's clothes,recommended to him by Logotheti. Though he almost laughed at thethought when it occurred to him, he did not like the idea of keepingthe stone; yet he did not know what to do with it, for it was morethan probable that he was never to see Barak again, and if he everdid, it was at least likely that she would refuse to take back hergift, and as energetically as on the first occasion.
At that moment it occurred to him that he might sell it to a dealerand give the proceeds to Lady Maud for her good work. Hisrecollections of Sunday School were very misty, poor man, but a storycame back to him about some one who had observed that somethingvaluable might have been sold and the money given to the poor. If hehad remembered the rest, and especially that the person who made thesuggestion had been Judas Iscariot, he would certainly have hesitated,for he wo
uld have been sure that there was something wrong with anyadvice that came from that quarter. But, happily for the poor, thename of Judas had dropped out of his memory in connexion with theincident.
'At least it will do some good to somebody, and I shall not be keepingwhat I've no right to.'
A mere acquaintance, judging him by his hard face and hisextraordinary financial past, would not have believed that such asimple and highly moral reflexion could occur to him. But Lady Maud,who knew him, would have given him credit for this and much more, eventhough she felt that he had lately tempted her to do something whichher father would call dishonourable, and that the temptation had notyet quite taken itself off to the bottomless pit, where temptationsare kept in pickle by the devil's housekeeper.
Mr. Van Torp took his hat and gloves, but as he was really a goodAmerican, he had no stick to take; and he went out without eventelling Stemp that he was going. In spite of what Londoners werecalling the heat, he walked, and did not even feel warm; for in thefirst place he had lately come from Washington and New York, where aHottentot would be very uncomfortable in July, and, moreover, he hadnever been at all sensitive to heat or cold, and lived as soberly asan Arab in the desert. Therefore London seemed as pleasantly cool tohim with the thermometer at eighty as it seems to a newly landedAnglo-Indian who has lately seen the mercury at a hundred andthirty-five on the shady side of the verandah.
He walked up at a leisurely pace from his hotel by the river toPiccadilly and Bond Street, and he entered a jeweller's shop of modestappearance but ancient reputation, which had been in the same placefor nearly a century, and had previously been on the other side of thestreet.
Outside, two well-dressed men were looking at the things in thewindow; within, a broad-shouldered, smart-looking man with black hairand dressed in perfectly new blue serge was sitting by the counterwith his back to the door, talking with the old jeweller himself. Heturned on the chair when he heard the newcomer's step, and Mr. VanTorp found himself face to face with Konstantin Logotheti, whom he hadsupposed to be in Paris.
'Well,' he said, without betraying the surprise he felt, 'this iswhat I call a very pleasant accident, Mr. Logotheti.'
The Greek rose and shook hands, and the American did not fail toobserve on the counter a small piece of tissue paper on which lay anuncut stone, much larger than the one he had in his pocket.
'If you are in any hurry,' said Logotheti politely, 'I don't mindwaiting in the least. Mr. Pinney and I are in the midst of adiscussion that may never end, and I believe neither of us hasanything in the world to do.'
Mr. Pinney smiled benignly and put in a word in the mercantile plural,which differs from that of royalty in being used every day.
'The truth is, we are not very busy just at this time of the year,' hesaid.
'That's very kind of you, Mr. Logotheti,' said Van Torp, answering thelatter, 'but I'm not really in a hurry, thank you.'
The stress he laid on the word 'really' might have led one to theconclusion that he was pretending to be, but was not. He sat downdeliberately at a little distance, took off his hat, and looked at thegem on the counter.
'I don't know anything about such things, of course,' he said in atone of reflexion, 'but I should think that was quite a nice ruby.'
Again Mr. Pinney smiled benignly, for Mr. Van Torp had dealt with himfor years.
'It's a very fine stone indeed, sir,' he said, and then turned toLogotheti again. 'I think we can undertake to cut it for you inLondon,' he said. 'I will weigh it and give you a careful estimate.'
As a matter of fact, before Van Torp entered, Logotheti had got so faras the question of setting the gem for a lady's ring, but Mr. Pinney,like all the great jewellers, was as discreet and tactful as aprofessional diplomatist. How could he be sure that one customer mightlike another to know about a ring ordered for a lady? If Logothetipreferred secrecy, he would only have to assent and go away, as ifleaving the ruby to be cut, and he could look in again when it wasconvenient; and this was what he at once decided to do.
'I think you're right, Mr. Pinney,' he said. 'I shall leave it in yourhands. That's really all,' he added, turning to Mr. Van Torp.
'Really? My business won't take long either, and we'll go together, ifyou like, and have a little chat. I only came to get another of thoseextra large collar-studs you make for me, Mr. Pinney. Have you gotanother?'
'We always keep them in stock for your convenience, sir,' answered thefamous jeweller, opening a special little drawer behind the counterand producing a very small morocco case.
Mr. Van Torp did not even open it, and had already laid down themoney, for he knew precisely what it cost.
'Thanks,' he said. 'You're always so obliging about little things, Mr.Pinney.'
'Thank you, sir. We do our best. Good-morning, sir, good morning.'
The two millionaires went out together. Two well-dressed men stoodaside to let them pass and then entered the shop.
'Which way?' asked Logotheti.
'Your way,' answered the American. 'I've nothing to do.'
'Nor have I,' laughed the Greek. 'Nothing in the world! What cananybody find to do in London at this time of year?'
I'm sure I don't know,' echoed Van Torp, pleasantly. 'I supposed youwere on the Continent somewhere.'
'And I thought you were in America, and so, of course, we meet at oldPinney's in London!'
'Really! Did you think I was in America? Your friend, the heathen girlin boy's clothes, brought me your card this morning. I supposed youknew I was here.'
'No, but I thought you might be, within six months, and I gave herseveral cards for people I know. So she found you out! She's a bornferret--she would find anything. Did you buy anything of her?'
'No. I'm not buying rubies to-day. Much obliged for sending her, allthe same. You take an interest in her, I suppose, Mr. Logotheti? Isthat so?'
'I?' Logotheti laughed a little. 'No, indeed! Those days were overlong ago. I'm engaged to be married.'
'By the bye, yes. I'd heard that, and I meant to congratulate you. Ido now, anyway. When is it to be? Settled that yet?'
'Some time in October, I think. So you guessed that Barak is a girl.'
'Yes, that's right. I guessed she was. Do you know anything abouther?'
'What she told me. But it may not be true.'
'Told you? Do you mean to say you understand her language?'
'Oh, yes. Tartar is spoken all over the East, you know. It's only asort of simplified Turkish, and I picked it up in the Crimea and theCaucasus when I was travelling there some years ago. She comes fromsome place in Central Asia within a possible distance of Samarkand andthe Transcaucasian railway, for that was the way she ultimately got tothe Caspian and to Tiflis, and then to Constantinople and Paris. How amere girl, brought up in a Tartar village, could have made such ajourney safely, carrying a small fortune with her in precious stones,is something nobody can understand who has not lived in the East,where anything is possible. A woman is practically sacred in aMohammedan country. Any man who molests her stands a good chance ofbeing torn to ribands by the other men.'
'It used to be something like that in the West, when I punchedcattle,' observed Mr. Van Torp, quietly. 'A man who interfered with alady there was liable to get into trouble. Progress works both ways,up and down, doesn't it? Bears at one end and rots at the other. Isn'tthat so?'
'It's just as true of civilisation,' answered the Greek.
'They're the same thing, I should say,' objected Mr. Van Torp.
'Oh, not quite, I think!'
Logotheti smiled at his own thoughts. To his thinking, civilisationmeant an epigram of Meleager, or Simonides' epitaph on the Spartanswho fell at Thermopylae, or a Tragedy of Sophocles, or the Aphrodite ofSyracuse, or the Victory of the Louvre. Progress meant railways, theParis Bourse, the Nickel Trust, and Mr. Van Torp.
'Well,' said the latter, 'you were telling me about Miss Barrack.'
'Is that what you call her?' Logotheti laughed lightly.
&nb
sp; He seemed to be in very good humour. Men often are, just beforemarriage; and sometimes, it is said, when they are on the eve of greatmisfortunes which they cannot possibly foresee. Fate loves unexpectedcontrasts. Logotheti told his companion the story of the ruby mine,substantially as it was narrated at the beginning of this tale, notdreaming that Van Torp had perhaps met and talked with the man who hadplayed so large a part in it, and to find whom Baraka had traversedmany dangers and overcome many difficulties.
'It sounds like the _Arabian Nights_,' said Mr. Van Torp, as if hefound it hard to believe.
'Exactly,' assented Logotheti. 'And, oddly enough, the first of thesestories is about Samarkand, which is not so very far from Baraka'snative village. It seems to have taken the girl about a year to findher way to Constantinople, and when she got there she naturallysupposed that it was the capital of the world, and that her man, beingvery great and very rich, thanks to her, must of course live there. Soshe searched Stamboul and Pera for him, during seven or eight months.She lived in the house of a good old Persian merchant, under theprotection of his wife, and learned that there was a world calledEurope where her man might be living, and cities called Paris andLondon, where people pay fabulous prices for precious stones. Persianmerchants are generally well-educated men, you know. At last she madeup her mind to dress like a man, she picked up an honest Turkishman-servant who had been all over Europe with a diplomatist and couldspeak some French and English as well as Tartar, she got a letter ofrecommendation to me from a Greek banker, through the Persian who didbusiness with him, joined some Greeks who were coming to Marseilles bysea, and here she is. Now you know as much as I do. She is perfectlyfearless, and as much more sure of herself than any man ever was, assome young women can be in this queer world. Of course, she'll neverfind the brute who thought he was leaving her to be murdered by herrelations, but if she ever did, she would either marry him or cut histhroat.'
'Nice, amiable kind of girl,' remarked Mr. Van Torp, who rememberedher behaviour when he had refused her proffered gift. 'That's veryinteresting, Mr. Logotheti. How long do you count on being in Londonthis time? Three or four days, maybe?'
'I daresay. No longer, I fancy.'
'Why don't you come and take dinner with me some night?' asked theAmerican. 'Day after to-morrow, perhaps. I'd be pleased to have you.'
'Thank you very much,' Logotheti answered. 'Since you ask me, I see noreason why I should not dine with you, if you want me.'
They agreed upon the place and hour, and each suddenly remembered anengagement.
'By the way,' said Mr. Van Torp without apparent interest, 'I hopeMadame Cordova is quite well? Where's she hiding from you?'
'Just now the hiding-place is Bayreuth. She's gone there with Mrs.Rushmore to hear _Parsifal_. I believe I'm not musical enough forthat, so I'm roving till it's over. That's my personal history at thismoment! And Miss Donne is quite well, I believe, thank you.'
'I notice you call her "Miss Donne" when you speak of her,' said VanTorp. 'Excuse me if I made a mistake just now. I've always called herMadame Cordova.'
'It doesn't matter at all,' answered Logotheti carelessly, 'but Ibelieve she prefers to be called by her own name amongst friends.Good-bye till day after to-morrow, then.'
'At half after eight.'
'All right--half-past--I shall remember.'
But at two o'clock, on the next day but one, Logotheti received anote, brought by hand, in which Mr. Van Torp said that to his verygreat regret he had been called away suddenly, and hoped thatLogotheti would forgive him, as the matter was of such urgentimportance that he would have already left London when the note wasreceived.
This was more than true, if possible, for the writer had left town twodays earlier, very soon after he had parted from Logotheti in PallMall, although the note had not been delivered till forty-eight hourslater.