II
SUNRISE
The first sunbeams had already gilded her bedroom windows, barring thedrawn curtains with light, when the man arrived. He was still wearinghis disordered evening dress under a light overcoat; his soiled shirtfront was still crossed by the red ribbon of watered silk; third classorders striped his breast, where also the brand new Turkish sunburstglimmered.
A sleepy maid in night attire answered his furious ringing; the manpushed her aside with an oath and strode into the semi-darkness of thecorridor. He was nearly six feet tall, bulky; but his legs were eithertoo short or something else was the matter with them, for when hewalked he waddled, breathing noisily from the ascent of the stairs.
"Is your mistress here?" he demanded, hoarse with his effort.
"Y--yes, monsieur----"
"When did she come in?" And, as the scared and bewildered maidhesitated: "Damn you, answer me! When did Mademoiselle Quellen comein? I'll wring your neck if you lie to me!"
The maid began to whimper:
"Monsieur le Comte--I do not wish to lie to you.... Mademoiselle Nihlacame back with the dawn----"
"Alone?"
The maid wrung her hands:
"Does Monsieur le Comte m-mean to harm her?"
"Will you answer me, you snivelling cat!" he panted between his big,discoloured teeth. He had fished out a pistol from his breast pocket,dragging with it a silk handkerchief, a fancy cap of tissue and gilt,and some streamers of confetti which fell to the carpet around hisfeet.
"Now," he breathed in a half-strangled voice, "answer my questions.Was she alone when she came in?"
"N-no."
"Who was with her?"
"A--a----"
"A man?"
The maid trembled violently and nodded.
"What man?"
"M-Monsieur le Comte, I have never before beheld him----"
"You lie!"
"I do not lie! I have never before seen him, Monsieur le----"
"Did you learn his name?"
"No----"
"Did you hear what they said?"
"They spoke in English----"
"What!" The man's puffy face went flabby white, and his big, badlymade frame seemed to sag for a moment. He laid a large fat hand flatagainst the wall, as though to support and steady himself, and gazeddully at the terrified maid.
And she, shivering in her night-robe and naked feet, stared back intothe pallid face, with its coarse, greyish moustache and little shortside-whiskers which vulgarized it completely--gazed in unfeignedterror at the sagging, deadly, lead-coloured eyes.
"Is the man there--in there now--with her?" demanded the Comte d'Eblisheavily.
"No, monsieur."
"Gone?"
"Oh, Monsieur le Comte, the young man stayed but a moment----"
"Where were they? In her bedroom?"
"In the salon. I--I served a pate--a glass of wine--and the younggentleman was gone the next minute----"
A dull red discoloured the neck and features of the Count.
"That's enough," he said; and waddled past her along the corridor tothe furthest door; and wrenched it open with one powerful jerk.
In the still, golden gloom of the drawn curtains, now striped withsunlight, a young girl suddenly sat up in bed.
"Alexandre!" she exclaimed in angry astonishment.
"You slut!" he said, already enraged again at the mere sight of her."Where did you go last night!"
"What are you doing in my bedroom?" she demanded, confused but flushedwith anger. "Leave it! Do you hear!--" She caught sight of the pistolin his hand and stiffened.
He stepped nearer; her dark, dilated gaze remained fixed on thepistol.
"Answer me," he said, the menacing roar rising in his voice. "Wheredid you go last night when you left the house?"
"I--I went out--on the lawn."
"And then?"
"I had had enough of your party: I came back to Paris."
"And _then_?"
"I came here, of course."
"Who was with you?"
Then, for the first time, she began to comprehend. She swalloweddesperately.
"Who was your companion?" he repeated.
"A--man."
"You brought him here?"
"He--came in--for a moment."
"Who was he?"
"I--never before saw him."
"You picked up a man in the street and brought him here with you?"
"N-not on the street----"
"Where?"
"On the lawn--while your guests were dancing----"
"And you came to Paris with him?"
"Y-yes."
"Who was he?"
"I don't know----"
"If you don't name him, I'll kill you!" he yelled, losing the lastvestige of self-control. "What kind of story are you trying to tellme, you lying drab! You've got a lover! Confess it!"
"I have not!"
"Liar! So this is how you've laughed at me, mocked me, betrayed me,made a fool of me! You!--with your fierce little snappish ways of avirgin! You with your dangerous airs of a tiger-cat if a man so muchas laid a finger on your vicious body! So Mademoiselle-Don't-touch-mehad a lover all the while. Max Freund warned me to keep an eye onyou!" He lost control of himself again; his voice became a hoarseshout: "Max Freund begged me not to trust you! You filthy littlebeast! Good God! Was I crazy to believe in you--to talk withoutreserve in your presence! What kind of imbecile was I to offer youmarriage because I was crazy enough to believe that there was no otherway to possess you! You--a Levantine dancing girl--a common paintedthing of the public footlights--a creature of brasserie and cabaret!And you posed as Mademoiselle Nitouche! A novice! A devotee ofchastity! And, by God, your devilish ingenuity at last persuaded methat you actually were what you said you were. And all Paris knew youwere fooling me--all Paris was laughing in its dirty sleeve--mockingme--spitting on me----"
"All Paris," she said, in an unsteady voice, "gave you credit forbeing my lover. And I endured it. And you knew it was not true. Yetyou never denied it.... But as for me, I never had a lover. When Itold you that I told you the truth. And it is true to-day as it wasyesterday. Nobody believes it of a dancing girl. Now, _you_ no longerbelieve it. Very well, there is no occasion for melodrama. I tried tofall in love with you: I couldn't. I did not desire to marry you. Youinsisted. Very well; you can go."
"Not before I learn the name of your lover of last night!" heretorted, now almost beside himself with fury, and once more menacingher with his pistol. "I'll get that much change out of all the moneyI've lavished on you!" he yelled. "Tell me his name or I'll killyou!"
She reached under her pillow, clutched a jewelled watch and purse, andhurled them at him. She twisted from her arm a gemmed bracelet, toreevery flashing ring from her fingers, and flung them in a handfulstraight at his head.
"There's some more change for you!" she panted. "Now, leave mybedroom!"
"I'll have that man's name first!"
The girl laughed in his distorted face. He was within an ace ofshooting her--of firing point-blank into the lovely, flushed features,merely to shatter them, destroy, annihilate. He had the desire to doit. But her breathless, contemptuous laugh broke that impulse--relaxedit, leaving it flaccid. And after an interval something elseintervened to stay his hand at the trigger--something that crept intohis mind; something he had begun to suspect that she knew. Suddenly hebecame convinced that she _did_ know it--that she believed that hedared not kill her and stand the investigation of a public trialbefore a _juge d'instruction_--that he could not afford to have hisown personal affairs scrutinised too closely.
He still wanted to kill her--shoot her there where she sat in bed,watching him out of scornful young eyes. So intense was his need toslay--to disfigure, brutalise this girl who had mocked him, that theraging desire hurt him physically. He leaned back, resting against thesilken wall, momentarily weakened by the violence of passion. But hispistol still threatened her.
No; he dared not. Ther
e was a better, surer way to utterly destroyher,--a way he had long ago prepared,--not expecting any suchcontingency as this, but merely as a matter of self-insurance.
His levelled weapon wavered, dropped, held loosely now. He stillglared at her out of pallid and blood-shot eyes in silence. After awhile:
"You hell-cat," he said slowly and distinctly. "Who is your Englishlover? Tell me his name or I'll beat your face to a pulp!"
"I have no English lover."
"Do you think," he went on heavily, disregarding her reply, "that Idon't know why you chose an Englishman? You thought you couldblackmail me, didn't you?"
"How?" she demanded wearily.
Again he ignored her reply:
"Is he one of the Embassy?" he demanded. "Is he some emissary ofGrey's? Does he come from their intelligence department? Or is he onlya police jackal? Or some lesser rat?"
She shrugged; her night-robe slipped and she drew it over her shoulderwith a quick movement. And the man saw the deep blush spreading overface and throat.
"By God!" he said, "you _are_ an actress! I admit it. But now you aregoing to learn something about real life. You think you've got me,don't you?--you and your Englishman? Because I have been fool enoughto trust you--hide nothing from you--act frankly and openly in yourpresence. You thought you'd get a hold on me, so that if I ever caughtyou at your treacherous game you could defy me and extort from me thelast penny! You thought all that out--very thriftily and cleverly--youand your Englishman between you--didn't you?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"Don't you? Then why did you ask me the other day whether it was notGerman money which was paying for the newspaper which I bought?"
"The _Mot d'Ordre_?"
"Certainly."
"I asked you that because Ferez Bey is notoriously in Germany's pay.And Ferez Bey financed the affair. You said so. Besides, you and hediscussed it before me in my own salon."
"And you suspected that I bought the _Mot d'Ordre_ with German moneyfor the purpose of carrying out German propaganda in a Paris dailypaper?"
"I don't know why Ferez Bey gave you the money to buy it."
"He did not give me the money."
"You said so. Who did?"
"_You!_" he fairly yelled.
"W-what!" stammered the girl, confounded.
"Listen to me, you rat!" he said fiercely. "I was not such a fool asyou believed me to be. I lavished money on you; you made a fortune foryourself out of your popularity, too. Do you remember endorsing acheque drawn to your order by Ferez Bey?"
"Yes. You had borrowed every penny I possessed. You said that FerezBey owed you as much. So I accepted his cheque----"
"That cheque paid for the _Mot d'Ordre_. It is drawn to your order;it bears your endorsement; the _Mot d'Ordre_ was purchased in yourname. And it was Max Freund who insisted that I take that precaution.Now, try to blackmail me!--you and your English spy!" he criedtriumphantly, his voice breaking into a squeak.
Not yet understanding, merely conscious of some vague and monstrousdanger, the girl sat motionless, regarding him intently out ofbeautiful, intelligent eyes.
He burst into laughter, made falsetto by the hysteria of sheerhatred:
"That's where you are now!" he said, leering down at her. "Every paperI ever made you sign incriminates you; your cancelled cheque is in thesame packet; your _dossier_ is damning and complete. You didn't knowthat Ferez Bey was sent across the frontier yesterday, did you? YourEnglish spy didn't inform you last night, did he?"
"N-no."
"You lie! You _did_ know it! That was why you stole away last nightand met your jackal--to sell him something besides yourself, thistime! You knew they had arrested Ferez! I don't know how you knew it,but you did. And you told your lover. And both of you thought you hadme at last, didn't you?"
"I--what are you trying to say to me--do to me?" she stammered, losingcolour for the first time.
"Put you where you belong--you dirty spy!" he said with grinningferocity. "If there is to be trouble, I've prepared for it. When theytry you for espionage, they'll try you as a foreigner--a dancing girlin the pay of Germany--as my mistress whom Max Freund and I discoverin treachery to France, and whom I instantly denounce to the properauthorities!"
He shoved his pistol into his breast pocket and put on his marred silkhat.
"Which do you think they will believe--you or the Count d'Eblis?" hedemanded, the nervous leer twitching at his heavy lips. "Which do youthink they will believe--your denials and counter-accusations againstme, or Max Freund's corroboration, and the evidence of the packet Ishall now deliver to the authorities--the packet containing everycursed document necessary to convict you!--you filthy little----"
The girl bounded from her bed to the floor, her dark eyes blazing:
"Damn you!" she said. "Get out of my bedroom!"
Taken aback, he retreated a pace or two, and, at the furious menace ofthe little clenched fist, stepped another pace out into the corridor.The door crashed in his face; the bolt shot home.
* * * * *
In twenty minutes Nihla Quellen, the celebrated and adored of Europeancapitals, crept out of the street door. She wore the dress of aFinistere peasant; her hair was grey, her step infirm.
The _commissaire_, two _agents de police_, and a Government detective,one Souchez, already on their way to identify and arrest her, nevereven glanced at the shabby, infirm figure which hobbled past them onthe sidewalk and feebly mounted an omnibus marked Gare du Nord.
* * * * *
For a long time Paris was carefully combed for the dancer, NihlaQuellen, until more serious affairs occupied the authorities, andpresently the world at large. For, in a few weeks, war burst like aclap of thunder over Europe, leaving the whole world stunned andreeling. The dossier of Nihla Quellen, the dancing girl, was tossedinto secret archives, together with the dossier of one Ferez Bey, anEurasian, now far beyond French jurisdiction, and already veryindustrious in the United States about God knows what, in company withone Max Freund.
As for Monsieur the Count d'Eblis, he remained a senator, an owner ofmany third-rate decorations, and of the _Mot d'Ordre_.
And he remained on excellent terms with everybody at the Swedish,Greek, and Bulgarian legations, and the Turkish Embassy, too. Andcontinued in cipher communication with Max Freund and Ferez Bey inAmerica.
Otherwise, he was still president of the Numismatic Society of Spain,and he continued to add to his wonderful collection of coins, and tokeep up his voluminous numismatic correspondence.
He was growing stouter, too, which increased his spinal waddle when hewalked; and he became very prosperous financially, through fortunate"operations," as he explained, with one Bolo Pasha.
He had only one regret to interfere with his sleep and his digestion;he was sorry he had not fired his pistol into the youthful face ofNihla Quellen. He should have avenged himself, taken his chances, andabove everything else he should have destroyed her beauty. Histimidity and caution still caused him deep and bitter chagrin.
For nearly a year he heard absolutely nothing concerning her. Then oneday a letter arrived from Ferez Bey through Max Freund, both being inNew York. And when, using his key to the cipher, he extracted themessage it contained, he had learned, among other things, that NihlaQuellen was in New York, employed as a teacher in a school fordancing.
The gist of his reply to Ferez Bey was that Nihla Quellen had alreadyoutlived her usefulness on earth, and that Max Freund should attend tothe matter at the first favourable opportunity.