CHAPTER III
ON GUARD
Here was a danger that Jessie had not expected. She was not surprised tosee Prince Boris Mazaroff there; indeed, she would not have beensurprised at anything after the events of the last few hours. There wasno startling coincidence in the presence of the Russian here, seeingthat he knew everybody worth knowing in London, and all society would behere presently.
Would he come forward and speak? Jessie wondered. She would have avoidedthe man, but then it seemed to be quite understood that she must stay bythe fountain till the signal was given. All this had been evidentlycarefully thought out before Vera Galloway found it an imperativenecessity to be elsewhere on this fateful night.
Would Mazaroff penetrate her disguise? was the most fateful questionthat Jessie asked herself. Of course he would see the strong likenessbetween the sham Vera and the milliner in the Bond Street shop; but ashe appeared to be _au fait_ of Lord Merehaven's house, and presumedlyknew Vera, he had doubtless noticed the likeness before. Jessierecollected the girls who had greeted her so smilingly in the hall, andreflected that they must have known Vera far better than this rascallyRussian could have done, and they had been utterly deceived.
Mazaroff lounged up to the fountain and murmured something polite. Hismanner was easy and polished and courteous now, but that it could bevery different Jessie knew to her cost. She raised her eyes and lookedthe man coldly in the face. She determined to know once for all whetherhe guessed anything or not. But the expression of his face expressednothing but a sense of disappointment.
"Why do you frown at me like that, Miss Vera?" he asked. "What have Idone?"
Jessie forced a smile to her lips. She could not quite forget her ownego, and she knew this man to be a scoundrel and a coward. Through hisfault she had come very close to starvation. But, she reflected,certainly Vera could know nothing of this, and she must act exactly asVera would have done. Jessie wanted all her wits for the comingstruggle.
"Did I frown?" she laughed. "If I did, it was certainly not at you. Mythoughts----"
"Let me guess your thoughts," Mazaroff said in a low tone of voice. Hereclined his elbows on the lip of the fountain so that his face wasclose to Jessie's. "I am rather good at that kind of thing. You arethinking that the queen did not care much for the pictures."
Jessie repressed a start. There was a distinct menace in the speaker'swords. If they meant anything they meant danger, and that to the peoplewhose interests it was Jessie's to guard. And she knew one thing thatVera Galloway could not possibly know--this man was a scoundrel.
"You are too subtle for me," she said. "What queen do you allude to?"
"There was only one queen in this conversation. I mean the Queen ofAsturia. She left the salon with you to look at certain pictures, andshe was disappointed. Where is she?"
"Back again in the salon by this time, doubtless," Jessie laughed. "I amnot quite at home in the presence of royalty."
The brows of Mazaroff knitted into a frown. Evidently Jessie hadaccidentally said something that checkmated him for the moment.
"And the king?" he asked. "Do you know anything about him? Where is he,for example?"
Jessie shook her head. She was treading on dangerous ground now, and itbehoved her to be careful. The smallest possible word might lead tomischief.
"The queen is a great friend of mine," Mazaroff went on, and Jessie knewinstantly that he was lying. "She is in danger, as you may possiblyknow. You shake your head, but you could tell a great deal if youchoose. But then the niece of a diplomatist knows the value of silence."
"The niece of a diplomatist learns a great deal," Jessie said coldly.
"Exactly. I hope that I have not offended you. But certain things arepublic property. It is impossible for a crowned head to disguise hisvices. That the King of Asturia is a hopeless drunkard and a gambler isknown to everyone. He has exhausted his private credit, and his sullensubjects will not help him any more from the public funds. It is fouryears since the man came to the throne, and he has not been crowned yet.His weakness and rascalities are Russia's opportunity."
"As a good and patriotic Russian you should be glad of that," Jessiesaid.
"You are a very clever young lady," Mazaroff smiled. "As a Russian, mycountry naturally comes first. But then I am exceedingly liberal in mypolitical views, and that is why the Czar prefers that I should more orless live in Western Europe. In regard to the Asturian policy, I do nothold with the views of my imperial master at all. At the risk of beingcalled a traitor I am going to help the queen. She is a great friend ofyours also?"
"I would do anything in my power to help her," Jessie said guardedly.
The Russian's eyes gleamed. In a moment of excitement he laid his handon Jessie's arm. The touch filled her with disgust, but she endured it.
"Then you never had a better opportunity than you have at the presentmoment," Mazaroff whispered. "I have private information which the queenmust know at once. Believe me, I am actuated only by the purest ofmotives. The fact that I am practically an exile from my native landshows where my sympathies lie. I am sick to death of this Russian earthhunger. I know that in the end it will spell ruin and revolution and thebreaking up of the State. I can save Asturia, too."
"Do I understand that you want to see the queen?" Jessie asked.
"That is it," was the eager response. "The queen and the king. Iexpected to find him elsewhere. I have been looking for him in one ofthe haunts he frequents. I know that Charles Maxwell was with him thismorning. Did he give you any hint as to the true state of affairs?"
"I don't know who you mean?" Jessie said unguardedly. "The name is notfamiliar to me."
"Oh, this is absurd!" Mazaroff said with some show of anger in hisvoice. "Caution is one thing, but to deny knowledge of Lord Merehaven'sprivate and confidential secretary is another matter. Come, this ispique--a mere lovers' quarrel, or something of that kind."
Jessie recovered herself at once. If Mazaroff had not been so angry hecould not have possibly overlooked so serious a slip on the part of hiscompanion.
"It is very good of you to couple our names together like this," Jessiesaid coldly.
"But, my dear young lady, it is not I who do it," Mazaroff protested."Everybody says so. You said nothing when Miss Maitland taxed you withit at the duke's on Friday night. Lady Merehaven shrugs her shoulders,and says that worse things might happen. If Maxwell were to come up atthis moment----"
Jessie waived the suggestion aside haughtily. This information wasexceedingly valuable, but at the same time it involved a possible newdanger. If this Charles Maxwell did come up--but Jessie did not care tothink of that. She half turned so that Mazaroff could not see theexpression of her face; she wanted time to regain control over herfeatures. As she looked towards the house she saw twice the quick flashof light in one of the bedroom windows.
It was the signal that the queen was ready to return to the salon again.Jessie's duty was plain. It was to hurry back to the bedroom and attendto the good pleasure of the queen. And yet she could not do it with theman by her side; she could think of no pretext to get rid of him. It wasnot as if he had been a friend. Mazaroff was an enemy of the heads ofAsturia. Possibly he knew a great deal more than he cared to say. Therehad been a distinct menace in his tone when he asked how the queen hadenjoyed the pictures. As Jessie's brain flashed rapidly over the eventsof the evening, she recalled to mind the spectacle of the queen and thestrange lady who dragged the body of the helpless man between them. Whatif that man were the King of Asturia! Why, Vera Galloway had said so!
Jessie felt certain of it--certain that for some reasons certain peoplewere not to know that the King of Asturia was under Lord Merehaven'sroof, and this fellow was trying to extract valuable information fromher. As she glanced round once more the signal flashed out again. Forall Jessie knew to the contrary, time might be as valuable as a crown ofdiamonds. But it was quite impossible to move so long as Mazaroff wasthere.
She looked round for some
avenue of escape. The garden was desertedstill, for the concert in the salon was not yet quite over. Even herethe glorious voice of the prima donna floated clear as a silver bell.The singer was flinging aloft the stirring refrain of some patrioticmelody.
"The Asturian national anthem," Mazaroff said softly. "Inspiring, isn'tit?"