XIII
A MIDNIGHT TETE-A-TETE
When Dulcie had entered the studio that evening, her white facesmeared with blood and a torn letter clutched in her hand, thegramophone was playing a lively two-step, and Barres and ThessalieDunois were dancing there in the big, brilliantly lighted studio, allby themselves.
Thessalie caught sight of Dulcie over Barres's shoulder, hastilyslipped out of his arms, and hurried across the polished floor.
"What is the matter?" she asked breathlessly, a fearful intuitionalready enlightening her as her startled glance travelled from theblood on Dulcie's face to the torn fragments of paper in her rigidlydoubled fingers.
Barres, coming up at the same moment, slipped a firm arm aroundDulcie's shoulders.
"Are you badly hurt, dear? What has happened?" he asked very quietly.
She looked up at him, mute, her bruised mouth quivering, and held outthe remains of the letter. And Thessalie Dunois caught her breathsharply as her eyes fell on the bits of paper covered with her ownhandwriting.
"There was a man hiding in the court," said Dulcie. "He wore a whitecloth over his face and he came up behind me and tried to snatch yourletter out of my hand; but I held fast and he only tore it in two."
Barres stared at the sheaf of torn paper, lying crumpled up in hisopen hand, then his amazed gaze rested on Thessalie:
"Is this the letter you wrote to me?" he inquired.
"Yes. May I have the remains of my letter?" she asked calmly.
He handed over the bits of paper without a word, and she opened hergold-mesh bag and dropped them in.
There was a moment's silence, then Barres said:
"Did he strike you, Dulcie?"
"Yes, when he thought he couldn't get away from me."
"You hung on to him?"
"I tried to."
Thessalie stepped closer, impulsively, and framed Dulcie's pallid,blood-smeared face in both of her cool, white hands.
"He has cut your lower lip inside," she said. And, to Barres: "Couldyou get something to bathe it?"
Barres went away to his own room. When he returned with a finger-bowlfull of warm water, some powdered boric acid, cotton, and a softtowel, Dulcie was lying deep in an armchair, her lids closed; andThessalie sat beside her on one of the padded arms, smoothing theruddy, curly hair from her forehead.
She opened her eyes when Barres appeared, giving him a clear butinscrutable look. Thessalie gently washed the traces of battle fromher face, then rinsed her lacerated mouth very tenderly.
"It is just a little cut," she said. "Your lip is a trifle swelled."
"It is nothing," murmured Dulcie.
"Do you feel all right?" inquired Barres anxiously.
"I feel sleepy." She sat erect, always with her grey eyes on Barres."I think I will go to bed." She stood up, conscious, now, of hershabby clothes and slippers; and there was a painful flush on her faceas she thanked Thessalie and bade her a confused good-night.
But Thessalie took the girl's hand and retained it.
"Please don't say anything about what happened," she said. "May I askit of you as a very great favour?"
Dulcie turned her eyes on Barres in silent appeal for guidance.
"Do you mind not saying anything about this affair," he asked, "aslong as Miss Dunois wishes it?"
"Should I not tell my father?"
"Not even to him," replied Thessalie gently. "Because it won't everhappen again. I am very certain of that. Will you trust my word?"
Again Dulcie looked at Barres, who nodded.
"I promise never to speak of it," she said in a low, serious voice.
Barres took her down stairs. At the desk she pointed out, at hisrequest, the scene of recent action. Little by little he discovered,by questioning her, what a dogged battle she had fought there alone inthe whitewashed corridor.
"Why didn't you call for help?" he asked.
"I don't know.... I didn't think of it. And when he got away I wasdizzy from the blow."
At her bedroom door he took both her hands in his. The gas-jet wasstill burning in her room. On the bed lay her pretty evening dress.
"I'm so glad," she remarked naively, "that I had on my old clothes."
He smiled, drew her to him, and lightly smoothed the thick, brighthair from her brow.
"You know," he said, "I am becoming very fond of you, Dulcie. You'resuch a splendid girl in every way.... We'll always remain firmfriends, won't we?"
"Yes."
"And in perplexity and trouble I want you to feel that you can alwayscome to me. Because--you do like me, don't you, Dulcie?"
For a moment or two she sustained his smiling, questioning gaze, thenlaid her cheek lightly against his hands, which still held both ofhers imprisoned. And for one exquisite instant of spiritual surrenderher grey eyes closed. Then she straightened herself up; he releasedher hands; she turned slowly and entered her room, closing the doorvery gently behind her.
* * * * *
In the studio above, Thessalie, still wearing her rose-coloured cloak,sat awaiting him by the window.
He crossed the studio, dropped onto the lounge beside her, and lighteda cigarette. Neither spoke for a few moments. Then he said:
"Thessa, don't you think you had better tell me something about thisugly business which seems to involve you?"
"I can't, Garry."
"Why not?"
"Because I shall not take the risk of dragging you in."
"Who are these people who seem to be hounding you?"
"I can't tell you."
"You trust me, don't you?"
She nodded, her face partly averted:
"It isn't that. And I had meant to tell you something concerning thismatter--tell you just enough so that I might ask your advice. In fact,that is what I wrote you in that letter--being rather scared anddesperate.... But half my letter to you has been stolen. The peoplewho stole it are clever enough to piece it out and fill in what ismissing----"
She turned impulsively and took his hands between her own. Her facehad grown quite white.
"How much harm have I done to you, Garry? Have I already involved youby writing as much as I did write? I have been wondering.... Icouldn't bear to bring anything like that into your life----"
"Anything like what?" he asked bluntly. "Why don't you tell me,Thessa?"
"No. It's too complicated--too terrible. There are elements in it thatwould shock and disgust you.... And perhaps you would not believeme----"
"Nonsense!"
"The Government of a great European Power does not believe me to behonest!" she said very quietly. "Why should you?"
"Because I know you."
She smiled faintly:
"You're such a dear," she murmured. "But you talk like a boy. What doyou really know about me? We have met just three times in our entirelives. Do any of those encounters really enlighten you? If you were abusiness man in a responsible position, could you honestly vouch forme?"
"Don't you credit me with common sense?" he insisted warmly.
She laughed:
"No, Garry, dear, not with very much. Even I have more than you, andthat is saying very little. We are inclined to be irresponsible, youand I--inclined to take the world lightly, inclined to laugh, inclinedto tread the moonlit way! No, Garry, neither you nor I possess verymuch of that worldly caution born of hardened wisdom and sharpenedwits."
She smiled almost tenderly at him and pressed his hands between herown.
"If I had been worldly wise," she said, "I should never have danced myway to America through summer moonlight with you. If I had been wiserstill, I should not now be an exile, my political guilt established,myself marked for destruction by a great European Power the instant Idare set foot on its soil."
"I supposed your trouble to be political," he nodded.
"Yes, it is." She sighed, looked at him with a weary little smile."But, Garry, I am not guilty of being what that nation believes me tobe."
"I am very sure of it," he said gravely.
"Yes, you would be. You'd believe in me anyway, even with the terribleevidence against me.... I don't suppose you'd think me guilty if Itell you that I am not--in spite of what they might say aboutme--might prove, apparently."
She withdrew her hands, clasped them, her gaze lost in retrospectionfor a few moments. Then, coming to herself with a gesture of infiniteweariness:
"There is no use, Garry. I should never be believed. There are thosewho, base enough to entrap me, now are preparing to destroy me becausethey are cowardly enough to be afraid of me while I am alive. Yes,trapped, exiled, utterly discredited as I am to-day, they are stillafraid of me."
"Who are you, Thessa?" he asked, deeply disturbed.
"I am what you first saw me--a dancer, Garry, and nothing worse."
"It seems strange that a European Government should desire yourdestruction," he said.
"If I really were what this Government believes me to be, it would notseem strange to you."
She sat thinking, worrying her under lip with delicate white teeth;then:
"Garry, do you believe that your country is going to be drawn intothis war?"
"I don't know what to think," he said bitterly. "The _Lusitania_ oughtto have meant war between us and Germany. Every brutal Teutonicdisregard of decency since then ought to have meant war--every unarmedship sunk by their U-boats, every outrage in America perpetrated bytheir spies and agents ought to have meant war. I don't know how muchmore this Administration will force us to endure--what furtherflagrant insult Germany means to offer. They've answered thePresident's last note by canning Von Tirpitz and promising,conditionally, to sink no more unarmed ships without warning. But theyall are liars, the Huns. So that's the way matters stand, Thessa, andI haven't the slightest idea of what is going to happen to myhumiliated country."
"Why does not your country prepare?" she asked.
"God knows why. Washington doesn't believe in it, I suppose."
"You should build ships," she said. "You should prepare plans forcalling out your young men."
He nodded indifferently:
"There was a preparedness parade. I marched in it. But it onlyirritated Washington. Now, finally, the latest Mexican insult ispenetrating official stupidity, and we are mobilising our StateGuardsmen for service on the border. And that's about all we aredoing. We are making neither guns nor rifles; we are building noships; the increase in our regular army is of little account; some ofthe most vital of the great national departments are presided over byrogues, clowns, and fools--pacifists all!--stupid, dull, grotesque andimpotent. And you ask me what my country is going to do. And I tellyou that I don't know. For real Americans, Thessa, these last twoyears have been years of shame. For we should have armed and mobilisedwhen the first rifle-shot cracked across the Belgian frontier atLongwy; and we should have declared war when the first Hun set hisfilthy hoof on Belgian soil.
"In our hearts we real Americans know it. But we had no leader--nobodyof faith, conviction, vision, action, to do what was the only thing todo. No; we had only talkers to face the supreme crisis of theworld--only the shallow noise of words was heard in answer to God'sown summons warning all mankind that hell's deluge was at hand."
The intense bitterness of what he said had made her very grave. Shelistened silently, intent on his every expression. And when he endedwith a gesture of hopelessness and disgust, she sat gazing at him outof her lovely dark eyes, deep in reflection.
"Garry," she said at length, "do you know anything about the Europeansystems of intelligence?"
"No--only what I read in novels."
"Do you know that America, to-day, is fairly crawling with Germanspies?"
"I suppose there are some here."
"There are a hundred thousand paid German spies within an hour'sjourney of this city."
He looked up incredulously.
"Let me tell you," she said, "how it is arranged here. The GermanAmbassador is the master spy in America. Under his immediatesupervision are the so-called diplomatic agents--the personnel of theembassy and members of the consular service. These people do notclass themselves as agents or as spies; they are the directors ofspies and agents.
"Agents gather information from spies who perform the direct work ofinvestigating. Spies usually work alone and report, through localagents, to consular or diplomatic agents. And these, in turn, reportto the Ambassador, who reports to Berlin.
"It is all directed from Berlin. The personal source of all Germanespionage is the Kaiser. He is the supreme master spy."
"Where have you learned these things, Thessa?" he asked in a troubledvoice.
"I have learned, Garry."
"Are you--a spy?"
"No."
"Have you been?"
"No, Garry."
"Then how----"
"Don't ask me; just listen. There are men here in your city who arehere for no good purpose. I do not mean to say that merely becausethey seek also to injure me--destroy me, perhaps,--God knows what theywish to do to me!--but I say it because I believe that your countrywill declare war on Germany some day very soon. And that you ought towatch these spies who move everywhere among you!
"Germany also believes that war is near. And this is why she strivesto embroil your country with Japan and Mexico. That is why shediscredits you with Holland, with Sweden. It is why she instructs herspies here to set fires in factories and on ships, blow up powdermills and great industrial plants which are manufacturing munitionsfor the Allies of the Triple Entente.
"America may doubt that there is to be war between her and Germany,but Germany does not doubt it.
"Let me tell you what else Germany is doing. She is spreadinginsidious propaganda through a million disloyal Germans and pacifistAmericans, striving to poison the minds of your people againstEngland. She secretly buys, owns, controls newspapers which are usedas vehicles for that propaganda.
"She is debauching the Irish here who are discontented with England'srule; she spends vast sums of money in teaching treachery in yourschools, in arousing suspicion among farmers, in subsidisingmercantile firms.
"Garry, I tell you that a Hun is always a Hun; a Boche is always aBoche, call him what else you will.
"The Germans are the monkeys of the world; they have imitated thehuman race. But, Garry, they are still what they always have been atheart, barbarians who have no business in Europe.
"In their hearts--and for all their priests and clergymen andcathedrals and churches--they still believe in their old gods whichthey themselves created--fierce, bestial supermen, more cruel, morepowerful, more treacherous, more beastly than they themselves.
"That is the German. That is the Hun under all his disguises. No whiteman can meet him on his own ground; no white man can understand him,appeal to anything in common between himself and the Boche. He isbrutal and contemptuous to women; he is tyrannical to the weak,cringing to the strong, fundamentally bestial, utterly selfish,intolerant of any civilisation which is not his conception ofcivilisation--his monkey-like conception of Christ--whom, in his pagansoul, he secretly sneers at--not always secretly, now!"
She straightened up with a quick little gesture of contempt. Her facewas brightly flushed; her eyes brilliant with scorn.
"Garry, has not America heard enough of 'the good German,' the 'kindlyTeuton,' the harmless, sentimental and 'excellent citizen,' whosemorally edifying origin as a model emigrant came out of his own slymouth, and who has, by his own propaganda alone, become an acceptedtype of good-natured thrift and erudition in your Republic?
"Let me say to you what a French girl thinks! A hundred years ago youwere a very small nation, but you were homogeneous and the average ofculture was far higher in America then than it is at present. For now,your people's cultivation and civilisation is diluted by the ignoranceof millions of foreigners to whom you have given hospitality. And, ofthese, the Germans have done you the most deadly injury, vulgarisingpublic taste in art and literature, affron
ting your clean, saneintelligence by the new decadence and perversion in music, inpainting, in illustration, in fiction.
"Whatever the normal Hun touches he vulgarises; whatever the decadentBoche touches he soils and degrades and transforms into a horribleabomination. This he has done under your eyes in art, in literature,in architecture, in modern German music.
"His filthy touch is even on your domestic life--this Barbarian whofeeds grossly, whose personal habits are a by-word among civilised andcultured people, whose raw ferocity is being now revealed to the worldday by day in Europe, whose proverbial clumsiness and stupidity havelong furnished your stage with its oafs and clowns.
"This is the thing that is now also invading you with thousands ofspies, betraying you with millions of traitors, and which will oneday turn on you and tear you and trample you like an enraged hog,unless you and your people awake to what is passing in the world youlive in!"
She was on her feet now, flushed, lovely, superb in her deep andcontrolled excitement.
"I'll tell you this much," she said. "It is Germany that wishes mydestruction. Germany trapped me; Germany would have destroyed me inthe trap had I not escaped. Now, Germany is afraid of me, knowing whatI know. And her agents follow me, spy on me, thwart me, prevent mefrom earning my living, until I--I can scarcely endure it--thishounding and persecution----" Her voice broke; she waited to controlit:
"I am not a spy. I never was one. I never betrayed a human soul--no,nor any living thing that ever trusted me! These people who hound meknow that I am not guilty of that for which another Government isready to try me--and condemn me. They fear that I shall prove to thisother Government my innocence. I can't. But they fear I can. And theHun is afraid of me. Because, if I ever proved my innocence, it wouldinvolve the arrest and trial and certain execution of men high in rankin the capital of this other country. So--the Hun dogs me everywhere Igo. I do not know why he does not try to kill me. Possibly he lackscourage, so far. Possibly he has not had any good opportunity, becauseI am very careful, Garry."
"But this--this is outrageous!" broke out Barres. "You can't standthis sort of thing, Thessa! It's a matter for the police----"
"Don't interfere!"
"But----"
"Don't interfere! The last thing I want is publicity. The last thing Iwish for is that your city, state, or national government shouldnotice me at all or have any curiosity concerning me or any idea ofinvestigating my affairs."
"Why?"
"Because, although as soon as your country is at war with Germany, mydanger from Germany ceases, on the other hand another very deadlydanger begins at once to threaten me."
"What danger?"
"It will come from a country with which your country will be allied.And I shall be arrested here as a _German_ spy, and I shall be sentback to the country which I am supposed to have betrayed. And therenothing in the world could save me."
"You mean--court-martial?"
"A brief one, Garry. And then the end."
"Death?"
She nodded.
After a few moments she moved toward the door. He went with her,picking up his hat.
"I can't let you go with me," she said with a faint smile.
"Why not?"
"You are involved sufficiently already."
"What do I care for----"
"Hush, Garry. Do you wish to displease me?"
"No, but I----"
"Please! Call me a taxicab. I wish to go back alone."
In spite of argument she remained smilingly firm. Finally he rang up ataxi for her. When it signalled he walked down stairs, through the dimhall and out to the grilled gateway beside her.
"Good-bye," she said, giving her hand. He detained it:
"I can't bear to have you go alone----"
"I'm perfectly safe, mon ami. I've had a delightful time at yourparty--really I have. This affair of the letter does not spoil it. I'maccustomed to similar episodes. So now, good-night."
"Am I to see you again soon?"
"Soon? Ah, I can't tell you that, Garry."
"When it is convenient then?"
"Yes."
"And will you telephone me on your safe arrival home to-night?"
She laughed:
"If you wish. You're so sweet to me, Garry. You always have been.Don't worry about me. I am not in the least apprehensive. You see I'mrather a clever girl, and I know something about the Boche."
"You had your letter stolen."
"Only half of it!" she retorted gaily. "She is a gallant little thing,your friend Dulcie. Please give her my love. As for your otherfriends, they were amusing.... Mr. Mandel spoke to me about anengagement."
"Why don't you consider it? Corot Mandel is the most importantproducer in New York."
"Is he, really? Well, if I'm not interfered with perhaps I shall go tocall on Mr. Mandel." She began to laugh mischievously to herself:"There was one man there who never gave me a moment's peace until Ipromised to lunch with him at the Ritz."
"Who the devil----"
"Mr. Westmore," she said demurely.
"Oh, Jim Westmore! Well, Thessa, he's a corker. He's really asplendid fellow, but look out for him! He's also a philanderer."
"Oh, dear. I thought he was just a sculptor and a rather strenuousyoung man."
"I wasn't knocking him," said Barres, laughing, "but he falls in lovewith every pretty woman he meets. I'm merely warning you."
"Thank you, Garry," she smiled. She gave him her hand again, pulledthe rose-coloured cloak around her bare shoulders, ran across thesidewalk to the taxi, and whispered to the driver.
"You'll telephone me when you get home?" he reminded her, baffled butsmiling.
She laughed and nodded. The cab wheeled out into the street, backed,turned, and sped away eastward.
* * * * *
Half an hour later his telephone rang:
"Garry, dear?"
"Is it you, Thessa?"
"Yes. I'm going to bed.... Tell Mr. Westmore that I'm not at all sureI shall meet him at the Ritz on Monday."
"He'll go, anyway."
"Will he? What devotion. What faith in woman! What a lively capacityfor hope eternal! What vanity! Well, then, tell him he may take hischances."
"I'll tell him. But I think you might make a date with me, too, youlittle fraud!"
"Maybe I will. Maybe I'll drop in to see you unexpectedly somemorning. And don't let me catch _you_ philandering in your studio withsome pretty woman!"
"No fear, Thessa."
"I'm not at all sure. And your little model, Dulcie, is dangerouslyattractive."
"Piffle! She's a kid!"
"Don't be too sure of that, either! And tell Mr. Westmore that I _may_keep my engagement. And then again I may not! Good-night, Garry,dear!"
"Good-night!"
* * * * *
Walking slowly back to extinguish the lights in the studio beforeretiring to his own room for the night, Barres noticed a piece ofpaper on the table under the lamp, evidently a fragment from the tornletter.
The words "Ferez Bey" and "Murtagh" caught his eye before he realisedthat it was not his business to decipher the fragment.
So he lighted a match, held the shred of letter paper to the flame,and let it burn between his fingers until only a blackened cinder fellto the floor.
But the two names were irrevocably impressed on his mind, and he foundhimself wondering who these men might be, as he stood by his bed,undressing.