CHAPTER II
MORGAN LA FEE
In the hands of Doolittle, Rambaud & Cie., was a rather small deposit,as deposits went with that distinguished international banking house.It had originally amounted to about twenty thousand francs when placedwith them about the beginning of the war and was in the name ofMademoiselle Solange d'Albret, whose place of nativity, as her_dossier_ showed, was at a small hamlet not far from Biarritz, in theBasse Pyrenees, and her age some twenty-two years at the present time.Her occupation was given as gentlewoman and nurse, and her presentresidence an obscure street near one of the big war hospitals. Thepersonality of Mademoiselle d'Albret was quite unknown to her bankers,as she had appeared to them very seldom and then only to add smallsums to her deposit, which now amounted to about twenty-five thousandfrancs in all. She never drew against it.
Such a sum, in the hands of an ordinary Frenchwoman would never haveremained on deposit for that length of time untouched, but, if notneeded, would have been promptly invested in _rentes_. The unusualnessof this fact, however, had not disturbed the bankers and had, in fact,been of so little importance that they had failed to notice it atall. When, therefore, a young woman dressed in a nurse's uniformappeared at the bank and rather timidly asked to see Mr. Doolittle,giving the name of Mademoiselle d'Albret, there was some hesitancy ingranting her request until a hasty glance at the state of her accountconfirmed the statement that she was a considerable depositor.
Mr. Doolittle, informed of her request, sighed a little, under theimpression that he was about to be called upon for detailed advice andfatherly counsel in the investment of twenty-five thousand francs. Hepictured to himself some thrifty, suspicious Frenchwoman with a smallfortune who would give him far more trouble than any millionaire whoused his bank, and whose business could and would actually be handledby one of his clerks, whom she might as well see in the first placewithout bothering him. As well, however, he knew that she would neverconsent to see anybody but himself. Somewhat wearily, but with allcourtliness of manner, he had her shown into his consultation room.
Mademoiselle d'Albret entered, her nurse's cloak draped gracefullyfrom her shoulders, the little, nunlike cap and wimple hiding herhair, while a veil concealed her face to some extent. Through itsmeshes one could make out a face that seemed young and pretty, and apair of great, dark eyes. Her figure also left nothing to be desired,and she carried herself with grace and easy dignity. Mr. Doolittle,who had an eye for female pulchritude, ceased to regret the necessityof catering to a customer's whim and settled himself to a pleasantinterview after rising to bow and offer her a chair.
"Mademoiselle has called, I presume, about an investment," he began,ingratiatingly. "Anything that the bank can do in the way ofadvice----"
"Of advice, yes, monsieur," broke in mademoiselle, speaking in aclear, bell-like voice. "But it is not of an investment that I haveneed. On the contrary, the money which you have so faithfully guardedfor me during the years of the war is reserved for a purpose which Ifear you would fail to approve. I have come to arrange with you totransfer the account to America and to seek your assistance in gettingthere myself."
The account had been profitable to the bank in the years it had lainidle there, the lady was good to look upon and, even if the accountwas to be lost, he felt benevolent toward her. Besides, her voice andmanner were those of a lady, and natural courtesy bade him extend toher all the aid he could. Therefore he smiled acquiescence.
"The transfer of the money is a simple matter," he stated. "A draft onour house in New York, or a letter of credit--it is all one. They willgladly serve you there as we have served you here. But if you wish tofollow your money--that, I fear, is a different matter."
"It is because it is different--and difficult--that I have ventured tointrude upon you, monsieur, and not for an idle formality. It isnecessary that I get to America, to a place called Eo-dah-o--is itnot? I do not know how to say it?"
"Spell it," suggested the tactful Doolittle.
Mademoiselle spelled it, and Doolittle gave her the correctpronunciation with a charming smile which she answered.
"Ah, yes! Idaho! It is, I believe, at some distance from New York,perhaps a night and a day even on the railroad."
"Or even more," said Doolittle. "Mademoiselle speaks of America, andthat is a large country. From New York to Idaho is as far as fromParis to Constantinople--or even farther. But I interrupt.Mademoiselle would go to Idaho, and for what purpose?"
"It is there, I fear, that the difficulty lies," said mademoisellewith frankness. "It is necessary, I presume, that one have a purposeand make it known?"
"It is not, so far as permission to go is concerned, although thematter of a passport may be difficult to arrange. But there is thefurther question of passage."
"And it is precisely there that I seek monsieur's advice. How am I tosecure passage to America?"
Doolittle was on the point of insinuating that a proper use of hercharms might accomplish much in certain quarters, but there wassomething so calmly virginal and pure about the girl as she sat therein her half-sacred costume that instinct conquered cynicism and herefrained. Unattached and unchaperoned as she was, or appeared to be,the girl commanded respect even in Paris. Instead of answering at oncehe reflected.
"Do you know any one in America?" he asked.
"No one," she replied. "I am going to find some one, but I do not evenknow who it is that I seek. Furthermore, I am going to bring that someone to his death if I can do so."
She was quite calm and matter-of-fact about this statement, andtherefore Mr. Doolittle was not quite so astounded as he mightotherwise have been. He essayed a laugh that betrayed little realmirth.
"Mademoiselle jests, of course?"
"Mademoiselle is quite serious, I assure you, and not at all mad. Iwill be brief. Twenty years ago, nearly, my father was murdered inAmerica after discovering something that would have made him wealthy.His murderer was never brought to justice, and the thing he found waslost again. We are Basques, we d'Albrets, and Basques do not forget aninjury, as you may know. I am the last of his family, and it is myduty, therefore, to take measures to avenge him. After twenty years itmay be difficult, and yet I shall try. I should have gone before, butthe war interrupted me."
"And your fortune, which is on deposit here?" asked the curious Mr.Doolittle.
"Has been saved and devoted to that purpose. My mother left it to meafter providing for my education--which included the learning ofEnglish that I might be prepared for the adventure. The war isover--and I am ready to go."
"Hum!" said Doolittle, a little dazed. "It is an extraordinary affair,indeed. After twenty years--to find a murderer and to kill him. It isnot done in America."
"Then I will be the first to do it," said the young woman, coolly.
"But there is no possibility--there is no possible way in which youcould secure passage with such a story, mademoiselle. Accommodationsare scarce, and one must have the most urgent reasons before one cansecure them. Every liner is a troopship, filled with returningsoldiers, and the staterooms are crowded with officers and diplomats.Private errands must yield to public necessities and, above all, suchexceedingly private and personal errands as you have described.Instead of allowing you to sail, if you told this story, they wouldput you under surveillance."
"Exactly," said mademoiselle. "Therefore I shall not tell it. Itremains, therefore, that I shall get advice from you to solve mydilemma."
"From me!" gasped the helpless Doolittle; "how can I help solve it?"
Yet, even as he said this, he recalled his client of the previous dayand _his_ strange story and personality. Here, indeed, were a pair oflunatics, male and female, who would undoubtedly be well mated. Andwhy not? The soldier needed something to jolt him out of hisdespondency, to occupy his energy--and he was American. A recklessadventurer, no matter how distinguished, was just the sort of mate forthis wild woman who was bent on crossing half the earth to conduct aprivate assassination. Mr. Doolittle, in a lon
g residence in France,had acquired a Gallic sense of humor, a deep appreciation of theextravagant. It pleased him to speculate on the probable consequencesof such a partnership, the ex-l?gionnaire shepherding the Pyreneanwild cat who was yet an aristocrat, as his eyes plainly told him. Hehad an idea that the American West was as wild and lawless as it hadever been, and it pleased him to speculate on what might happen tothese two in such a region. And, come to think about it, De Launay hadreferred to himself as having been a cowboy at one time, beforebecoming a soldier. That made it even more deliciously suitable. Healso recalled having made a suggestion to the general which had beenmet with scorn. And yet, the man had said that he would gamble onanything. If it were made what he called a "sporting proposition" hemight consider it.
"How can I help solve it?" And even as he said it again, he knew thathere was a possible solution.
"I see no way except that you should marry a returning Americansoldier," he said, at last, while she stared at him through her veil,her deep eyes making him vaguely uncomfortable.
"Marry a soldier--an American! Me, Morgan _la f?e_, espouse one ofthese roistering, cursing foreigners? Monsieur, you speak withfoolishness!"
"Morgan _la f?e_!" Doolittle gasped. "Mademoiselle is----"
"Morgan _la f?e_ in the hospitals," answered Solange d'Albret icily."Monsieur has heard the name?"
"I have heard it," said Doolittle feebly. He had, in common with agreat many other people. He had heard that the poilus had given herthe name in some fanatic belief that she was a sort of fairyministering to them and bringing them good luck. They gave her adevout worship and affection that had guarded her like a halo throughall the years of the war. But she had not needed their protection. Itwas said that a convalescent soldier had once offered her an insult, aman she herself had nursed. She had knifed him as neatly as an apachecould have done and other soldiers had finished the job before theycould be interfered with. French law had, for once, overlooked thematter, rather than have a mutiny in the army. Doolittle began todoubt the complete humor in his idea, but its dramatic possibilitieswere enhanced by this revelation. Of course this spitfire would nevermarry a common soldier, either American or of any other race. He didnot doubt that she claimed descent from the Navarrese royal family andthe Bourbons, to judge from her name. But then De Launay was certainlynot an ordinary soldier. His very extraordinariness was what qualifiedhim in Doolittle's mind. The affair, indeed, began to interest him asa beautiful problem in humanity. De Launay was rich, of course, but hedid not believe that mademoiselle was mercenary. If she had been shewould not have saved her inheritance for the purpose of squandering iton a wild-goose chase worthy of the "Arabian Nights." Anyway De Launayhad no use for money, and mademoiselle probably had. However, he hadno intention of telling her of De Launay's situation. He had a notionthat Morgan _la f?e_ would be driven off by that knowledge.
"But, mademoiselle, it is not necessary that you marry a rough andcommon soldier. Surely there are officers, gentlemen, distinguished,whom one of your charms might win?"
"We will not bring my charms into the discussion, monsieur," saidSolange. "I reject the idea that I should marry in order to get toAmerica. I have serious business before me, and not such business as Icould bring into a husband's family--unless, indeed, he were a Basque.But, then, there are no Basques whom I could marry."
"I wouldn't suggest a Basque," said Doolittle. "But I believe there isone whom you could wed without compromising your intentions. Indeed, Ibelieve the only chance you would have to marry him would be bytelling him all about them. He is, or was, an American, it is true,but he has been French for many years and he is not a common soldier.I refer to General de Launay."
"General de Launay!" repeated Solange wonderingly. "Why, he is adistinguished man, monsieur!"
"It would be more correct to say that he _was_ a distinguished man,"said Doolittle, smiling at the recollection of the general as he hadlast seen him. "He has been demoted, as many others have been, or willbe, but he has not taken it in good part. He is a reckless adventurer,who has risen from the ranks of the Legion, and yet--I believe that heis a gentleman. He has, I regret to say, taken to--er--drink, to someextent, out of disappointment, but no doubt the prospect of excitementwould restore him to sobriety. And he has told me that he mightmarry--if it were made a sporting proposition."
"A sporting proposition! _Mon Dieu!_ And is such a thing their ideaof sport? These Americans are mad!"
"They might say the same of you, it seems to me," said the bankerdryly. "At any rate there it stands. The general might agree as asporting proposition. Married to the general there should be nodifficulty in securing passage to America. After you get to Americathe matter is in your hands."
"But I should be married to the general," exclaimed Solange inprotest. Doolittle waved this aside.
"The general would, I believe, regard the marriage merely as anadventure. He does not like women. As for the rest, marriage, inAmerica, is not a serious matter. A decree of divorce can be obtainedvery easily. If this be regarded as a veritable _mariage deconvenance_, it should suit you admirably and the general as well."
"He would expect to be paid?"
"Well, I can't say as to that," said Doolittle, smiling as he thoughtof De Launay's oil wells. "He might accept pay. But he is as likely totake it on for the chance of adventure. In any event, I imagine thatyou are prepared to employ assistance from time to time."
"That is what the money is for," said Solange candidly. "I have evenconsidered at times employing an assassin. It is a regrettable factthat I hesitate to kill any one in cold blood. It causes me toshudder, the thought of it. When I am angry, that is a differentmatter, but when I am cold, ah, no! I am a great coward! This Generalde Launay, would he consider such employment, do you think?"
"Judging from his reputation," said Doolittle, "I don't believe hewould stop at anything."
Solange knew something of De Launay and Doolittle now told her more.Before he had finished she was satisfied. She rose with thanks to himand then requested the general's address.
"I think you'll find him," he referred to a memorandum on his desk,"at the caf? of the Pink Kitten, which is in Montmartre. It is therethat he seems to make his headquarters since he resigned from thearmy."
"Monsieur," said Solange, gratefully, "I am indeed indebted to you."
"Not at all," said Doolittle as he bowed her out. "The pleasure hasbeen all mine."
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