CHAPTER IV
AT THE RUSSIAN AMBASSADOR'S
The brougham containing the man who had figured in the "Milan" tablelist as Mr. Sabin, and his companion, turned into the Strand andproceeded westwards. Close behind it came Harcutt's private cab--onlya few yards away followed Densham's hansom. The procession continuedin the same order, skirting Trafalgar Square and along Pall Mall.
Each in a different manner, the three men were perhaps equallyinterested in these people. Geoffrey Densham was attracted as an artistby the extreme and rare beauty of the girl. Wolfenden's interest wasat once more sentimental and more personal. Harcutt's arose partly outof curiosity, partly from innate love of adventure. Both Densham andHarcutt were exceedingly interested as to their probable destination.From it they would be able to gather some idea as to the status andsocial position of Mr. Sabin and his companion. Both were perhaps alittle surprised when the brougham, which had been making its way intothe heart of fashionable London, turned into Belgrave Square and pulledup before a great, porticoed house, brilliantly lit, and with a crimsondrugget and covered way stretched out across the pavement. Harcuttsprang out first, just in time to see the two pass through the openeddoorway, the man leaning heavily upon his stick, the girl, with herdaintily gloved fingers just resting upon his coat-sleeve, walking withthat uncommon and graceful self-possession which had so attractedDensham during her passage through the supper-room at the "Milan" ashort while ago.
Harcutt looked after them, watching them disappear with a frown upon hisforehead.
"Rather a sell, isn't it?" said a quiet voice in his ear.
He turned abruptly round. Densham was standing upon the pavement by hisside.
"Great Scott!" he exclaimed testily. "What are you doing here?"
Densham threw away his cigarette and laughed.
"I might return the question, I suppose," he remarked. "We both followedthe young lady and her imaginary papa! We were both anxious to find outwhere they lived--and we are both sold!"
"Very badly sold," Harcutt admitted. "What do you propose to do now? Wecan't wait outside here for an hour or two!"
Densham hesitated.
"No, we can't do that," he said. "Have you any plan?"
Harcutt shook his head.
"Can't say that I have."
They were both silent for a moment. Densham was smiling softly tohimself. Watching him, Harcutt became quite assured that he had decidedwhat to do.
"Let us consider the matter together," he suggested, diplomatically. "Weought to be able to hit upon something."
Densham shook his head doubtfully.
"No," he said; "I don't think that we can run this thing in doubleharness. You see our interests are materially opposed."
Harcutt did not see it in the same light.
"Pooh! We can travel together by the same road," he protested. "Thetime to part company has not come yet. Wolfenden has got a bit ahead ofus to-night. After all, though, you and I may pull level, if we help oneanother. You have a plan, I can see! What is it?"
Densham was silent for a moment.
"You know whose house this is?" he asked.
Harcutt nodded.
"Of course! It's the Russian Ambassador's!"
Densham drew a square card from his pocket, and held it out under thegas-light. From it, it appeared that the Princess Lobenski desired thehonour of his company at any time that evening between twelve and two.
"A card for to-night, by Jove!" Harcutt exclaimed.
Densham nodded, and replaced it in his pocket.
"You see, Harcutt," he said, "I am bound to take an advantage over you!I only got this card by an accident, and I certainly do not know thePrincess well enough to present you. I shall be compelled to leave youhere! All that I can promise is, that if I discover anything interestingI will let you know about it to-morrow. Good-night!"
Harcutt watched him disappear through the open doors, and then walkeda little way along the pavement, swearing softly to himself. His firstidea was to wait about until they came out, and then follow them again.By that means he would at least be sure of their address. He would havegained something for his time and trouble. He lit a cigarette, andwalked slowly to the corner of the street. Then he turned back andretraced his steps. As he neared the crimson strip of drugget, one ofthe servants drew respectfully aside, as though expecting him to enter.The man's action was like an inspiration to him. He glanced down thevista of covered roof. A crowd of people were making their way up thebroad staircase, and amongst them Densham. After all, why not? Helaughed softly to himself and hesitated no longer. He threw away hiscigarette and walked boldly in. He was doing a thing for which he wellknew that he deserved to be kicked. At the same time, he had made uphis mind to go through with it, and he was not the man to fail throughnervousness or want of _savoir faire_.
At the cloak-room the multitude of men inspired him with new confidence.There were some, a very fair sprinkling, whom he knew, and who greetedhim indifferently, without appearing in any way to regard his presenceas a thing out of the common. He walked up the staircase, one of alittle group; but as they passed through the ante-room to where in thedistance Prince and Princess Lobenski were standing to receive theirguests, Harcutt adroitly disengaged himself--he affected to pause for amoment or two to speak to an acquaintance. When he was left alone, heturned sharp to the right and entered the main dancing-salon.
He was quite safe now, and his spirits began to rise. Yonder wasDensham, looking very bored, dancing with a girl in yellow. So far atleast he had gained no advantage. He looked everywhere in vain, however,for a man with a club foot and the girl in white and diamonds. They mustbe in one of the inner rooms. He began to make a little tour.
Two of the ante-chambers he explored without result. In the third, twomen were standing near the entrance, talking. Harcutt almost held hisbreath as he came to an abrupt stop within a yard or two of them. Onewas the man for whom he had been looking, the other--Harcutt seemedto find his face perfectly familiar, but for the moment he could notidentify him. He was tall, with white hair and moustaches. His coat wascovered with foreign orders, and he wore English court dress. His handswere clasped behind his back; he was talking in a low, clear tone,stooping a little, and with eyes steadfastly fixed upon his companion.Mr. Sabin was leaning a little forward, with both hands resting uponhis stick. Harcutt was struck at once with the singular immobility ofhis face. He did not appear either interested or amused or acquiescent.He was simply listening. A few words from the other man came toHarcutt's ears, as he lingered there on the other side of the curtain.
"If it were money--a question of monetary recompense--the secret servicepurse of my country opens easily, and it is well filled. If it wereanything less simple, the proposal could but be made. I am taking thething, you understand, at your own computation of its worth! I am takingit for granted that it carries with it the power you claim for it.Assuming these things, I am prepared to treat with you. I am going onleave very shortly, and I could myself conduct the negotiations."
Harcutt would have moved away, but he was absolutely powerless.Naturally, and from his journalistic instincts, he was one of the mostcurious of men. He had recognised the speaker. The interview waspregnant with possibilities. Who was this Mr. Sabin, that so great a manshould talk with him so earnestly? He was looking up now, he was goingto speak. What was he going to say? Harcutt held his breath. The idea ofmoving away never occurred to him now.
"Yet," Mr. Sabin said slowly, "your country should be a low bidder. Theimportance of such a thing to you must be less than to France, less thanto her great ally. Your relations here are close and friendly. Natureand destiny seemed to have made you allies. As yet there has been norift--no sign of a rift."
"You are right," the other man answered slowly; "and yet who can tellwhat lies before us? In less than a dozen years the face of all Europemay be changed. The policy of a great nation is, to all appearance, asteadfast thing. On the face of it, it continues the same, age af
terage. Yet if a change is to come, it comes from within. It developsslowly. It grows from within, outwards, very slowly, like a secretthing. Do you follow me?"
"I think--perhaps I do," Mr. Sabin admitted deliberately.
The Ambassador's voice dropped almost to a whisper, and but for itssingularly penetrating quality Harcutt would have heard no more. As itwas, he had almost to hold his breath, and all his nerves quivered withthe tension of listening.
"Even the Press is deceived. The inspired organs purposely mislead.Outside to all the world there seems to be nothing brewing; yet, whenthe storm bursts, one sees that it has been long in gathering--thatyears of careful study and thought have been given to that hiddentriumph of diplomacy. All has been locked in the breasts of a few. Thething is full-fledged when it is hatched upon the world. It has grownstrong in darkness. You understand me?"
"Yes; I think that I understand you," Mr. Sabin said, his piercing eyesraised now from the ground and fixed upon the other man's face. "Youhave given me food for serious thought. I shall do nothing further tillI have talked with you again."
Harcutt suddenly and swiftly withdrew. He had stayed as long as hedared. At any moment his presence might have been detected, and he wouldhave been involved in a situation which even the nerve and effronteryacquired during the practice of his profession could not have renderedendurable. He found a seat in an adjoining room, and sat quite still,thinking. His brain was in a whirl. He had almost forgotten the specialobject of his quest. He felt like a conspirator. The fascination of theunknown was upon him. Their first instinct concerning these people hadbeen a true one. They were indeed no ordinary people. He must followthem up--he must know more about them. Once more he thought over what hehad heard. It was mysterious, but it was interesting. It might meananything. The man with Mr. Sabin he had recognised the moment he spoke.It was Baron von Knigenstein, the German Ambassador. Those were strangewords of his. He pondered them over again. The journalistic fever wasupon him. He was no longer in love. He had overheard a few words of adiscussion of tremendous import. If only he could get the key to it!If only he could follow this thing through, then farewell to societyparagraphing and playing at journalism. His reputation would be madefor ever!
He rose, and finding his way to the refreshment-room, drank off a glassof champagne. Then he walked back to the main salon. Standing with hisback to the wall, and half-hidden by a tall palm tree, was Densham. Hewas alone. His arms were folded, and he was looking out upon the dancerswith a gloomy frown. Harcutt stepped softly up to him.
"Well, how are you getting on, old chap?" he whispered in his ear.
Densham started, and looked at Harcutt in blank surprise.
"Why, how the--excuse me, how on earth did you get in?" he exclaimed.
Harcutt smiled in a mysterious manner.
"Oh! we journalists are trained to overcome small difficulties," he saidairily. "It wasn't a very hard task. The _Morning_ is a pretty goodpassport. Getting in was easy enough. Where is--she?"
Densham moved his head in the direction of the broad space at the headof the stairs, where the Ambassador and his wife had received theirguests.
"She is under the special wing of the Princess. She is up at that endof the room somewhere with a lot of old frumps."
"Have you asked for an introduction?"
Densham nodded.
"Yes, I asked young Lobenski. It is no good. He does not know who sheis; but she does not dance, and is not allowed to make acquaintances.That is what it comes to, anyway. It was not a personal matter at all.Lobenski did not even mention my name to his mother. He simply said afriend. The Princess replied that she was very sorry, but there was somedifficulty. The young lady's guardian did not wish her to makeacquaintances for the present."
"Her guardian! He's not her father, then?"
"No! It was either her guardian or her uncle! I am not sure which. ByJove! There they go! They're off."
They both hurried to the cloak-room for their coats, and reached thestreet in time to see the people in whom they were so interested comingdown the stairs towards them. In the glare of the electric light, thegirl's pale, upraised face shone like a piece of delicate statuary. ToDensham, the artist, she was irresistible. He drew Harcutt right backamongst the shadows.
"She is the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life," he saiddeliberately. "Titian never conceived anything more exquisite. She is awoman to paint and to worship!"
"What are you going to do now?" Harcutt asked drily. "You can rave abouther in your studio, if you like."
"I am going to find out where she lives, if I have to follow her home onfoot! It will be something to know that."
"Two of us," Harcutt protested. "It is too obvious."
"I can't help that," Densham replied. "I do not sleep until I have foundout."
Harcutt looked dubious.
"Look here," he said, "we need not both go! I will leave it to you onone condition."
"Well?"
"You must let me know to-morrow what you discover."
Densham hesitated.
"Agreed," he decided. "There they go! Good-night. I will call at yourrooms, or send a note, to-morrow."
Densham jumped into his cab and drove away. Harcutt looked after themthoughtfully.
"The girl is very lovely," he said to himself, as he stood on thepavement waiting for his carriage; "but I do not think that she is foryou, Densham, or for me! On the whole, I am more interested in the man!"
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