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[The chapters in the original book pass from CHAPTER FIVE to CHAPTERSEVEN; there is no chapter numbered SIX. A list of typographical errorscorrected follows the etext. (note of etext transcriber)]
UNDER COVER
HE FOUND DENBY'S GUN UNDER HIS NOSE.
Frontispiece. _See page 266_.]
UNDER COVER
BY
ROI COOPER MEGRUE
NOVELIZED BY WYNDHAM MARTYN
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BYWILLIAM KIRKPATRICK
BOSTONLITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY1914
_Copyright_, _1914_,BY ROI COOPER MEGRUE ANDLITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY.
_All rights reserved_
Published August, 1914
THE COLONIAL PRESSC. H. SIMONDS CO., BOSTON, U. S. A.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
HE FOUND DENBY'S GUN UNDER HIS NOSE _Frontispiece_
HE TURNED TO AMY. "YOUNG WOMAN, YOU'RE UNDER ARREST" PAGE 105
"DO MAKE ANOTHER BREAK SOMETIME, WON'T YOU--DICK?" 186
"NOW WE UNDERSTAND ONE ANOTHER," HE SAID. "HERE'S YOUR MONEY" 288
UNDER COVER
CHAPTER ONE
Paris wears her greenest livery and puts on her most gracious airs inearly summer. When the National Fete commemorative of the Bastille'sfall has gone, there are few Parisians of wealth or leisure who remainin their city. Trouville, Deauville, Etretat and other pleasure citiesclaim them and even the bourgeoisie hie them to their summer villas.
The city is given up to those tourists from America and England whomParis still persists in calling _Les Cooks_ in memory of thatenterprising blazer of cheap trails for the masses. Your true Parisianand the stranger who has stayed within the city's gates to know herwell, find themselves wholly out of sympathy with the eager crowds whofollow beaten tracks and absorb topographical knowledge fromguide-books.
Monty Vaughan was an American who knew his Paris in all months but thosetwo which are sacred to foreign travelers, and it irritated him oneblazing afternoon in late July to be persistently mistaken for a touristand offered silly useless toys and plans of the Louvre. The _camelots_,those shrewd itinerant merchants of the Boulevards, pestered himcontinually. These excellent judges of human nature saw in him one wholacked the necessary harshness to drive them away and made capital ofhis good nature.
He was a slim, pleasant-looking man of five and twenty, to whom the goodthings of this world had been vouchsafed, with no effort on his part toobtain them; and in spite of this he preserved a certain frank andboyish charm which had made him popular all his life.
Presently on his somewhat aimless wanderings he came down the Avenue del'Opera and took a seat under the awning and ordered an innocuous drink.He was in a city where he had innumerable friends, but they had all leftfor the seashore and this loneliness was unpleasant to his friendlyspirit. But even in the Cafe de Paris he was not to be left alone and hewas regarded as fair game by alert hawkers. One would steal up to histable and deposit a little measure of olives and plead for two sous inexchange. Another would place some nuts by his side and demand a likeamount. And when they had been driven forth and he had lighted acigarette, he observed watching him with professional eagerness a_ramasseur de megot_, one of those men who make a livelihood of pickingup the butts of cigars and cigarettes and selling them.
When Monty flung down the half-smoked cigarette in hope that the manwould go away he was annoyed to find that the fellow was congratulatinghimself that here was a tourist worth following, who smoked not thewispy attenuated cigarettes of the native but one worth harvesting. Heprobed for it with his long stick under the table and stood waiting foranother.
The heat, the absence of his friends and the knowledge that he mustpresently dine alone had brought the usually placid Monty into a whollyforeign frame of mind and he rose abruptly and stalked down the Avenue.
A depressed-looking sandwich-man, bearing a device which read, "One canlaugh uproariously at the Champs Elysees every night during the summermonths," blocked his way, and permitted a woman selling fans of the kindknown to the _camelots_ as _les petits vents du nord_ to thrust one uponhim. "Monsieur does not comprehend our heat in Paris," she said. "Buy alittle north wind. Two sous for a little north wind."
Monty thrust a franc in her hand and turned quickly from her to caromagainst a tall well-dressed man who was passing. As Monty began to utterhis apology the look of gloom dropped from his face and he seized thestranger's hand and shook it heartily.
"Steve, old man!" he cried, "what luck to find you amid this mob! I'vebeen feeling like a poor shipwrecked orphan, and here you come to myrescue again."
The man he addressed as Steve seemed just as pleased to behold MontyVaughan. The two were old comrades from the days at their preparatoryschool and had met little during the past five years. Monty's ecstaticwelcome was a pleasant reminder of happy days that were gone.
"I might ask what you are doing here," Steven Denby returned. "Iimagined you to be sunning yourself in Newport or Bar Harbor, not doingParis in July."
"I've been living here for two years," Monty explained, when they weresheltered from interruption at the cafe Monty had just left.
"Doing what?"
Monty looked at him with a diffident smile. "I suppose you'll grin justlike everybody else. I'm here to learn foreign banking systems. Myfather says it will do me good."
Denby laughed. "I'll bet you know less about it than I do." The idea ofMonty Vaughan, heir to the Vaughan millions, working like a clerk in theCredit Lyonnais was amusing.
"Does your father make you work all summer?" he demanded.
"I'm not working now," Monty explained. "I never do unless I feel likeit. I'm waiting for a friend who is sailing with me on the Mauretanianext week and I've just had a wire to say she'll be here to-morrow."
"She!" echoed Denby. "Have you married without my knowledge or consent?Or is this a honey-moon trip you are taking?"
A look of sadness came into the younger man's face.
"I shall never marry," he returned.
But Steven Denby knew him too well to take such expressions of gloom asfinal. "Nonsense," he cried. "You are just the sort they like. You'reinclined to believe in people too much if you like them, and a husbandwho believes in his wife as you will in yours is a treasure. They'llfight for you, Monty, when you get home again. For all you know the trapis already baited."
"Trap!" Monty cried reproachfully. "I've been trying to make a girlcatch me for three years now and she won't."
"Do you mean you've been finally turned down?" Steven Denby askedcuriously. It was difficult to suppose that a man of his friend's wealthand standing would experience much trouble in offering heart andfortune.
"I haven't asked yet," Monty admitted. "I've been on the verge of ithundreds of times, but she always laughs as I'm coming around to it, andsomeone comes in or something happens and I've never done it." He sighedwith the deprecating manner of the devout lover. "If you'd only seenher, Steve, you'd see what mighty little chance I stood. I feel it's abit of impertinence to ask a girl like that to marry me."
Steven patted him on the arm. "You're just the same," he said, "exactlythe silly old Monty I used to know. Next time you see your charmer, riskbeing impertinent and ask her to marry you. Women hate modesty nowadays.It's just a confession of failure and we're all hitched up to success. Idon't know the girl you are speaking of but when you get home againinstead of declaring your great unworthiness, tell her you've left Parisand its pleasures simply to marry her. Say that the Bourse begged you toremain and guide the nation through a financial panic, but you leftthem weeping and flew back on a fast Cunarder."
<
br /> "I believe you are right," Monty said. "I'll do it. I ought to have doneit years ago. Alice is frightfully disappointed with me."
"Who is Alice?" the other demanded. "The lady you're crossing with onthe Mauretania?"
"Yes," said Monty. "A good pal of mine; one of those up-to-date women ofthe world who know what to do and say at the right moment. She's a sortof elder sister to me. You'll like her, Steve."
Denby doubted it but pursued the subject no further. He conceived Aliceto be one of those capable managing women who do so much good in theworld and give so little pleasure.
"What are you doing in Paris now?" Monty presently demanded. It occurredto him that it was odd that Denby, too, should be in the city now.
"Writing a book on the Race Courses of the World," he said, smiling. "Iam now in the midst of Longchamps."
Monty looked at him doubtfully. He had never known that his friend hadany literary aspirations, but he did remember him as one who, if he didnot choose to tell, would invent airy fairy fancies to deceive.
"I don't believe it," he said.
"You are quite right," Denby admitted. "You've got the key to themystery. I'll confess that I have been engaged to guard Mona Lisa.Suspicious looking tourists such as you engage my special attention.Don't get offended, Monty," he added, "I'm just wandering through thecity on my way to England and that's the truth, simple as it may seem. Iwas desolate and your pleasing countenance as you bought a franc's worthof north wind was good to see. I wondered if you'd remember me."
"Remember you!" Monty snorted. "Am I the kind to forget a man who savedmy life?"
"Who did that?" Denby inquired.
"Why, you did," he returned, "You pulled me out of the Nashua river atschool!"
The other man laughed. "Why, it wasn't five feet deep there."
"I can drown anywhere," Monty returned firmly. "You saved my life andI've never had the opportunity to do anything in return."
"The time will come," Denby said lightly. "You'll get a mysteriousmessage sometime and it will be up to you to rescue me from dreadfuldanger."
"I'd like to," the other retorted, "but I'm not sure I'm cut out forthat rescue business."
"Have you ever been--" Denby hesitated. "Have you ever been in any sortof danger?"
"Yes," Monty replied promptly, "but you pulled me out."
"Please don't go about repeating it," Denby entreated, "I have enemiesenough without being blamed for pulling you out of the Nashua river."
Monty looked at him in astonishment. Here was the most popular boy inGroton School complaining of enemies. Monty felt a thrill that hadsomething of enjoyment in it. His own upbringing had been so free fromany danger and his parents had safeguarded him from so much trouble thathe had found life insipid at times. Yet here was a man talking ofenemies. It was fascinating.
"Do you mean it?" he demanded.
"Why not?" said Denby, rolling himself a cigarette.
"You hadn't any at school," Monty insisted.
"That was a dozen years ago nearly," Denby insisted. "Since then--" Hepaused. "My career wouldn't interest you, my financial expert, but I amsafe in saying I have accumulated a number of persons who do not wish mewell."
"You must certainly meet Alice," Monty asserted. "She's like you. Sheoften says I'm the only really uninteresting person she's fond of."
Denby assured himself that Alice would not interest him in the slightestdegree and made haste to change the subject, but Monty held on to hischosen course.
"We'll all dine together to-morrow night," he cried.
"I'm afraid I'm too busy."
"Too busy to dine with Alice Harrington when you've the opportunity?"Monty exclaimed. "Are you a woman-hater?"
A more observant man might have noted the sudden change in expressionthat the name Harrington produced in Steven Denby. He had previouslybeen bored at the idea of meeting a woman who he concluded would beeager to impart her guide-book knowledge. Alice evidently had meantnothing to him, but Alice Harrington roused a sudden interest.
"Not by any chance Mrs. Michael Harrington?" he queried.
Monty nodded. "The same. She and Michael are two of the best friends Ihave. He's a great old sport and she's hurrying back because he has tostay on and can't get over this year." Monty flushed becomingly. "I'mgoing back with her because Nora is going to stay down in Long Islandwith them."
"Introduce me to Nora," Denby insisted. "She is a new motif in yourjocund song. Who is Nora, what is she, that Monty doth commend her?"
"She's the girl," Monty explained. He sighed. "If you only knew howpretty she was, you wouldn't talk about a trap being baited. I don'tthink women are the good judges they pretend to be!"
"Why not?" Denby demanded.
"Because Alice says she'd accept me and I don't believe I stand a ghostof a chance."
"Women are the only judges," Denby assured him seriously. "If I were youI'd bank on your friend Alice every time."
"Then you'll dine with me to-morrow?" Monty asked.
"Of course. You don't suppose I am going to lose sight of you, do you?"
And Monty, grateful that this admired old school friend was so ready tojoin him, forgot the previous excuse about inability to spare the time.
"That's fine," he exclaimed. "But what are we going to do to-night?"
"You are going to dine with me," Denby told him. "I haven't seen you,let me see," he reflected, "I haven't seen you for about ten years and Iwant to talk over the old days. What do you say to trying some ofMarguery's _sole a la Normandie?_"
During the course of the dinner Monty talked frankly and freely abouthis past, present and future. Denby learned that in view of the greatwealth which would devolve upon him, his father had determined that heshould become grounded in finance. When he had finished, he reflectedthat while he had opened his soul to his old friend, his old friend hadoffered no explanation of what in truth brought him to Europe, or why hehad for almost a decade dropped out of his old set.
"But what have you been doing?" Monty gathered courage to ask. "I'vetold you all about me and mine, Steve."
"There isn't much to tell," Denby responded slowly. "I left Grotonbecause my father died. I'm afraid he wasn't a shrewd man like yourfather, Monty. He was one of the last relics of New York's brown-stoneage and he tried to keep the pace when the marble age came in. Hecouldn't do it."
"You were going into the diplomatic service," Monty reminded him. "Youused to specialize in modern languages, I remember. I suppose you had togive that up."
"I had to try to earn my own living," Denby explained, "and diplomacydoesn't pay much at first even if you have the luck to get anappointment."
Monty looked at him shrewdly. He saw a tall, well set up man who hadevery appearance of affluence.
"You've done pretty well for yourself."
Denby smiled, "The age demands that a man put up a good appearance. Afinancier like you ought not to be deceived."
Monty leaned over the table. "Steve, old man," he said, a triflenervously, "I don't want to butt in on your private affairs, but if youever want any money you'll offend me if you don't let me know. I've toomuch and that's a fact. Except for putting a bit on Michael's horseswhen they run and a bit of a flutter occasionally at Monte Carlo I don'tget rid of much of it. I've got heaps. Do you want any?"
"Monty," the other man said quietly, "you haven't altered. You are stillthe same generous boy I remember and it's good for a man like me to knowthat. I don't need any money, but if ever I do I'll come to you."
Monty sighed with relief. His old idol was not hard up and he had notbeen offended at the suggestion. It was a good world and he was happy.
"Steve," he asked presently, "what did you mean about having enemies andbeing in danger? That was a joke, wasn't it?"
"We most of us have enemies," Steven said lightly, "and we are all indanger. For all you know ptomaines are gathering their forces inside youeven now."
"You didn't mean that," Monty said positively. "You wer
e serious. Whatenemies?"
"Enemies I have made in the course of my work," the other returned.
"Well, what work is it?" Monty queried. It was odd, he thought, thatDenby would not let him into so harmless a secret as the nature of hiswork. He felt an unusual spirit of persistence rising within him. "Whatwork?" he repeated.
Denby shrugged his shoulders. "You might call it a little irregular," hesaid in a lowered voice. "You represent high finance. Your father is oneof the big men in American affairs. You probably have his set views onthings. I don't want to shock you, Monty."
"Shock be damned!" cried Monty in an aggrieved voice. "I'm tired ofhaving to accommodate myself to other people's views."
Denby looked at him with mock wonder.
"Monty in revolt at the established order of things is a most remarkablephenomenon. Have you a pirate in your family tree that you sigh forsudden change and a life on the ocean wave?"
Monty laughed. "I don't want to do anything like that but I'm tired ofa life that is always the same. You've enemies. I don't believe I'veone. I'd like to have an enemy, Steve. I'd like to feel I was in danger;it would be a change after being wrapped in wool all my life. You'veprobably seen the world in a way I never shall. I've been on apersonally conducted tour, which isn't the same thing."
"Not by a long shot," Steven Denby agreed. "But," he added, "why shouldyou want to take the sort of risks that I have had to take, when there'sno need? I have been in danger pretty often, Monty, and I shall again.Why? Because I have my living to make and that way suits me best. Younotice I am sitting with my back to the wall so that none can comebehind me. I do that because two revengeful gentlemen have swornbloodthirsty oaths to relieve my soul of its body."
Monty tingled with a certain pleasurable apprehension which had neverbefore visited him. He was experiencing in real life what had onlyrevealed itself before in novels or on the stage.
"What are they like?" he demanded in a low voice, looking around.
"Disappointing, I'm afraid," Steven answered. "You are looking for atall man with a livid scar running from temple to chin and a look beforewhich even a waiter would blanch. Both my men have mild expressions andwouldn't attract a second glance, but they'll either get me or I'll getthem."
"Steve!" Monty cried. "What did they do?"
Denby made a careless gesture. "It was over a money matter," heexplained.
Monty thought for a moment in silence. Never had his conventional lotseemed less attractive to him. He approached the subject again as dotimid men who fearfully hang on the outskirts of a street fight,unwilling to miss what they have not the heart to enjoy.
"I wish some excitement like that would come my way," he sighed.
"Excitement? Go to Monte and break the bank. Become the Jaggers of yourcountry."
"There's no danger in that," Monty answered almost peevishly.
"Nor of it," laughed his friend.
"That's just the way it always is," Monty complained. "Other fellowshave all the fun and I just hear about it."
Denby looked at him shrewdly and then leaned across the table.
"So you want some fun?" he queried.
"I do," the other said firmly.
"Do you think you've got the nerve?" Steven demanded.
Monty hesitated. "I don't want to be killed," he admitted. "What is it?"
"I didn't tell you how I made a living, but I hinted my ways were a bitirregular. What I have to propose is also a trifle out of the usual. Thelaw and the equator are both imaginary lines, Monty, and I'm afraid mylittle expedition may get off the line. I suppose you don't want to hearany more, do you?"
Monty's eyes were shining with excitement. "I'm going to hear everythingyou've got to say," he asserted.
"It means I've got to put myself in your power in a way," Denby saidhesitatingly, "but I'll take a chance because you're the kind of man whocan keep things secret."
"I am," Monty said fervently. "Just you try me out, Steve!"
"It has to do with a string of pearls," Denby explained, "and I'm afraidI shall disappoint you when I tell you I'm proposing to pay for themjust as any one else might do."
"Oh!" said Monty. "Is that all?"
"When I buy these pearls, as you will see me do, with Bank of Francenotes, they belong to me, don't they?"
"Sure they do," Monty exclaimed. "They are yours to do as you likewith."
"That's exactly how I feel about it," Denby said. "It happens to be myparticular wish to take those pearls back to my native land."
"Then for heaven's sake do it," Monty advised. "What's hindering you?"
"A number of officious prying hirelings called customs officials. Theyadmit that the pearls aren't improved by the voyage, yet they want me topay a duty of twenty per cent. if I take them home with me."
"So you're going to smuggle 'em," Monty cried. "That's a cinch!"
"Is it?" Denby returned slowly. "It might have been in the past, butthings aren't what they were in the good old days. They're sending evensociety women to jail now as well as fining them. The whole service frombeing a joke has become efficient. I tell you there's risk in it, andbelieve me, Monty, I know."
"Where would I come in?" the other asked.
"You'd come in on the profits," Denby explained, "and you'd be a help aswell."
"Profits?" Monty queried. "What profits?"
Denby laughed. "You simple child of finance, do you think I'm buying amillion-franc necklace to wear about my own fair neck? I can sell it ata fifty thousand dollar profit in the easiest sort of way. There areavenues by which I can get in touch with the right sort of buyerswithout any risk. My only difficulty is getting the thing through thecustoms. It's up to you to get your little excitement if you're game."
Monty shut his eyes and felt as one does who is about to plunge for thefirst swim of the season into icy water. It was one thing to talk aboutdanger in the abstract and another to have it suddenly offered him.
Steven had talked calmly about men who wanted to part his soul from hisbody as though such things were in no way out of the ordinary. Supposethese desperate beings assumed Montague Vaughan to be leagued withSteven Denby and as such worthy of summary execution! But he put asidethese fears and turned to his old friend.
"I'm game," he said, "but I'm not in this for the profits." Now he wasonce committed to it, his spirits began to rise. "What about thedanger?" he asked.
"There may be none at all," the other admitted. "If there is it may beslight. If by any chance it is known to certain crooks that I have itwith me there may be an attempt to get it. Naturally they won't ask mepleasantly to hand it over, they'll take it by force. That's one danger.Then I may be trailed by the customs people, who could be warned throughsecret channels that I have it and am purposing to smuggle it in."
"But what can I do?" Monty asked. He was anxious to help but saw littleopportunity.
"You can tell me if any people follow me persistently while we'retogether in Paris or whether the same man happens to sit next to me atcafes or any shows we take in." He paused a moment, "By Jove, Monty,this means I shall have to book a passage on the Mauretania!"
"That's the best part of it," Monty cried.
"But Mrs. Harrington," Denby said. "She might not like it."
"Alice can't choose a passenger list," Monty exclaimed; "and she'll beglad to have any old friend of mine."
"That's a thing I want to warn you of," the other man said. "I don'twant you to give away too many particulars about me. Don't persist inthat fable about my saving your life. Know me just enough to vouch toher that I'm house-broken but don't get to the point where we have todiscuss common friends. I have my reasons, Monty, which I'll explainlater on. I don't court publicity this trip and I don't want anyreporter to jump aboard at Quarantine and get interested in me."
"I see," cried the sapient Monty and felt he was plunging at last intodark doings and mysterious depths. "But how am I to warn you if you'refollowed? I shall be with you and we ought not to let on
that we know."He felt in that moment the hours he had spent with detective novels hadbeen time well spent.
"We must devise something," Denby agreed, "and something simple." Hemeditated for a moment. "Here's an idea. If you should think I'm beingfollowed or you want me to understand that something unusual is up, justsay without any excitement, 'Will you have a cigarette, Dick?'"
"But why 'Dick,'" Monty cried, "when you're Steve!"
"For that very reason," Denby explained. "If you said Steve merely Ishouldn't notice it, but if you say Dick I shall be on the _qui vive_ atonce."
"Great idea!" cried his fellow conspirator enthusiastically. "When doyou buy them?"
"I've an appointment at Cartier's at eleven. Want to come?"
"You bet I do," Monty asserted, "I'm going through with it from start tofinish."
He looked at his friend a little anxiously. "What is the worst sort of afinish we might expect if the luck ran against us?"
"As you won't come in on the profits, you shan't take any risks," Denbysaid. "If you agree to help me as we suggested that's all I require ofyou. In case I should not get by, you can explain me away as a passingacquaintance merely. Don't kick against the umpire's decision," hecommanded. "If they halved the sentence because two were in it I mightclaim your help all the way, but they'd probably double it forconspiracy, so you'd be a handicap. You'll get a run for your money,Monty, all right."
"I'm not so sure," said Monty doubtfully.
Denby fell into the bantering style the other knew so well. "There's onething I'll warn you about," he said. "If a very beautiful young womanmakes your acquaintance on board, by accident of course, don't tell herwhat life seems to you as is your custom. She may be an agent of theRussian secret police with an assignment to take you to Siberia. She mayforce you to marry her at a pistol's point and cost your worthyprogenitor a million. Be careful, Monty. You're in a wicked world andyou've a sinful lot of money, and these big ships attract all that isbrightest and best in the criminal's Who's Who."
Monty shivered a bit. "I never thought of that," he said innocently.
"Then you'd better begin now," his mentor suggested, "and have for oncea voyage where you won't be bored."
He glanced at the clock. "It's later than I thought and I have to be upearly. I'll walk to your hotel."
During the short walk Monty glanced apprehensively over his shoulder ascore of times. Out of the shadows it seemed to him that mysterious menstared evilly and banded themselves together until a procession followedthe two Americans. But Denby paid no sort of attention to theseproblematic followers.
"Wait till I've got the pearls on me," he whispered mischievously. "Thenyou'll see some fun."
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