seat and facing hiscompanion.
But she made no response. She only stared blankly before her at thedark sluggish waters of the Seine.
CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE.
IN WHICH THERE IS ANOTHER MYSTERY.
The girl puzzled him.
Her attitude was as though she delighted in tantalising him, as if sheheld knowledge superior to his own. And so she did. She was evidentlyaware of the whereabouts of Maud--his own lost love.
He repeated his question, his eyes fixed upon her pale, seriouscountenance. But she made no response.
"Why have you brought me here, Miss Lorena?" he asked. "You told me youhad something to tell me."
"So I have," she answered, looking up at him again. "I don't know, MrRolfe, what opinion you must have of me, but I hope you will consider myself-introduction permissible under the circumstances."
"Why, of course," he declared, for truth to tell he was much interestedin her. She seemed so charmingly unconventional, not much more than aschoolgirl, and yet with all the delightful sweetness of buddingwomanhood. "But you have mentioned the name of a woman--a woman who islost to me."
"Ah! Maud Petrovitch," she sighed. "Yes. I know. I know all thetragic story."
"The tragic story?" he echoed, staring at her. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the tragic story of your love," was her slow, distinct reply."Pray forgive me, Mr Rolfe, for mentioning a subject which must be mostpainful, but I have only done so to show you that I am aware of thesecret of your affection."
"Then you are a friend of Maud?"
She nodded, without uttering a word.
"Where is she? I must see her," he said quickly, with a fierce, anxiouslook upon his countenance. "This suspense is killing me."
She was silent. Slowly she turned her fine eyes upon his, lookingstraight into his face.
"You ought surely to know," she said, unflinchingly.
"I--I know! Why? Why do you say that?"
"Because you know the truth--you know why they so suddenly disappeared."
"I know the truth!" he repeated. "Indeed I do not. You are speaking inenigmas, just as you yourself are an enigma, Miss Lorena."
Her lips relaxed into a smile of incredulity.
"Why, Mr Rolfe, do you make a pretence of ignorance, when you are fullyaware of the whole of the combination of circumstances which led DoctorPetrovitch and his daughter to escape from London?"
"But, my dear girl!" he cried; "you entirely misjudge me. I am incomplete ignorance."
"And yet you were present at Cromwell Road on the night in question!"she said slowly, fixing her eyes calmly upon him.
"Who are you, Miss Lorena, that you should make these direct allegationsagainst me?" he cried, staring at her.
"I am your friend, Mr Rolfe, if you will allow me to act as such."
"My friend!" he cried. "But you are alleging that I have secretknowledge of the Doctor's disappearance--that I make a pretence ofignorance. If I were in possession of the facts, is it feasible that Ishould be so anxious of the welfare of Maud?"
"No anxiety is necessary."
"Then she is alive?"
"I believe so."
"And well?"
"Yes, she is quite well. But--"
"But what?" he demanded. "Speak, Lorena. Speak, I beg of you."
She had hesitated, and he saw by her contracted brow that anxiety hadarisen within her mind.
"Well--she is safe, I believe, up to the present. Yet if what I fear betrue, she is daily nay, hourly, in peril--in deadliest peril."
"Peril!" he gasped. "Of what?"
"Of her life. You know that the political organisations of the East arefraught with murder plots. Dr Petrovitch has opponents--fierce,dastardly opponents, who would hesitate at nothing to encompass his end.They have intrigued to induce the King to place him in disgrace, but atBelgrade the Petrovitch party are still predominant. It is only in thecountry--at Nisch and Pirot--where the Opposition is really strong."
"You seem to know Servia and the complication of Servian politics,mademoiselle?" he remarked.
"Yes, I happen to know something of them. I have made them a study, andI assure you it would be very fascinating if there were not quite somany imprisonments in the awful fortress of Belgrade, and secretassassination. But Servia is a young country," the girl added, with aphilosophic air, "and all young countries must go through the sameperiods of unrest and internal trouble. At any rate, all parties inServia acknowledge that King Peter is a constitutional monarch, and isdoing his utmost for the benefit of his people."
"You are a partisan of the Karageorgevitch?"
"I am. I make no secret of it. Alexander and Draga were mere puppetsin the hands of Servia's enemies. Under King Peter the country is oncemore prosperous, and, after all, political life there is no more fraughtwith danger than it is in go-ahead Bulgaria. Did they not kill poorPetkoff the other day in the Boris Garden in Sofia? That was a morecruel and dastardly murder than any in Servia, for Petkoff had only onearm, and was unable to defend himself. The other was shot away at theShipka where he fought for his country against the Turk."
"How is it you know so much of Servia?" Charlie inquired, for he foundhimself listening to the girl's sound arguments with much interest. Herviews upon the complicated situation in the Near East were almostidentical with his. "Did you ever see Petkoff, for instance?"
"I knew him well. Twice I've dined at his house is Sofia. Strangelyenough, he was with his bosom friend Stambuloff when the latter wasassassinated, and for years was a marked man. As Prince Ferdinand'sPrime Minister, which he was at the time he was shot, he introduced manyreforms into Bulgaria, and was a patriot to the core."
He was surprised. Who could this girl be who dined with PrimeMinisters, and who was, apparently, behind the scenes of Balkanpolitics?
"And you fear lest the same fate should befall Maud. Why?" he asked.
"Because the Opposition has a motive--a strong motive."
"For the secret assassination of the daughter of the man who has madeServia what she is!" he exclaimed.
"Yes. Maud is in peril."
"And for that reason, I suppose, is living incognito?"
"Possibly," she answered, not without hesitation. "There is, I believe,a second reason."
"What is that?"
"I scarcely like to tell you, Mr Rolfe. We are strangers, you and I."
"But do tell me. I am very anxious to know. If she is your friend, shehas, no doubt, told you of our love."
"Well, she wishes to avoid you."
"Avoid me--why?"
"Because acquaintance with you increases her peril."
"How absurd!" he cried. "How can her love for me affect her father'spolitical opponents in Servia?"
"I am ignorant of the reasons. I only know the broad facts."
"But the Doctor had retired from active political life long ago! Hetold me one day how tired he was of the eternal bickerings of theSkuptchina."
"Of course he had ostensibly retired, but he secretly directed thepolicy of the present Government. In all serious matters King Peterstill consults him."
"And that is why you have brought me into the privacy of these gardens,Miss Lorena--to tell me this!" he laughed, bending to her and drawing asemi-circle in the gravel with the point of his stick.
"No," she replied sharply, with just a little frown of displeasure."You do not understand me, Mr Rolfe. Have I not said, a few momentsago, that I wanted to be your friend?"
"You are a most delightful little friend," was his courteous reply.
"Ah! I see. You treat me as a child," was her rather impatient reply."You are not serious."
"I am most serious," he declared, with a solemn face. "Indeed, I wasnever more serious in my life than I am at this moment."
She burst out laughing--a peal of light, merry, irresponsible, girlishlaughter.
"And before I met you," she said, "I thought you a most terribly austereperson."<
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"So I am--at times. I have to be, Miss Lorena. I'm secretary to a veryserious old gentleman, remember."
"Yes. And that was the very reason why I threw the convenances to thewinds--if there are any in the Anglo-French circle in Paris--and spoketo you--a perfect stranger."
"You spoke because I was Mr Statham's secretary?" he asked, somewhatpuzzled.
"Yes. I wanted to speak to you privately."
"Well, nobody can overhear us here," he said glancing around, andnoticing only a fat _bonne_