“I always look upon my brother-in-law, Henry,” Elida said, “as being one of the best judges of humans, and he declares that Admiral Cheshire is the most wonderful Englishman he ever met.”
“So do I,” Hincks agreed. “I have reason to. He has saved me, body and soul. I made one ghastly mistake. It was not so bad as it seemed but if he had stood by the rules and regulations he would have broken me, Elida. He ought to have done it. He was big enough and strong enough to defy them and save me.”
“Poor Ronnie,” she murmured. “I am very thankful that he did.”
He rose to his feet and took her gently into his arms. For a moment he was articulate. She drew away half laughing, though her eyes were suspiciously dim.
“Is this muddle of words meant to be a proposal?” she asked.
“It was meant to be one,” he assured her. “Will you marry me, Elida? Do you really care for me?”
“My dear Ronnie, if I did not care I should not be here,” she told him, smoothing out the wrinkles by his eyes.
The world went on very much as usual. The noises from the street still reached them. Ronnie was back in his place with a new flush of colour in his cheeks and the light of happiness once more in his eyes. They had drunk their little toast together. Luncheon was drawing towards its close.
“Your busy day, this, my dear, is it not?” she asked smiling. “You can feel that together we have probably stopped a European war and that you have certainly committed yourself for life, all within a few hours. I am feeling very contented about it because you look so much happier.”
“I am as happy as all the kings in a row from the time of William the Conqueror,” he assured her. “There’s just one more thing I should like to hear.”
“What can I have forgotten?” she murmured.
“You have really never been in love with Guy Cheshire?”
“All my life,” she declared. “So has Sabine. We both love him. Sabine married Henry quite happily and any little feelings she might have had she has kept to herself, and you see, Ronnie, my being in love with Guy was nothing that mattered in the least because there has never been anyone else I would have married but you.”
They lingered for some time over their coffee. Outside, a constant stream of human beings was passing backwards and forwards from Fleet Street, all eager for the latest news, all tense with the drama of the moment. Now and then, the two young people paused in the midst of their eager talk to listen. They, too, felt the dramatic significance of the passing hours.
“I wonder what time Guy will be back,” Elida remarked.
“Soon, I hope,” Ronnie answered.
She sprang to her feet and lit a cigarette, walked to the window, looked out and returned. She stood for a moment with her arms around his neck.
“I cannot keep still, Ronnie,” she confessed. “Somehow or other I feel that life has come too quickly to-day, in too fierce doses. I have never taken the journey I took to-day, talked with the grim person who took the packet from me, without my heart beating madly all the time, and now with you, too, to think of and this other terrible business finished, and all the excitement of war or peace vibrating in the air—I feel hysterical!”
“Sit down, dear,” he begged. “We can’t do any good. Tell you what,” he added, “I’ll send down for all the latest editions.”
“We can find out how things are going easier than that,” Elida pointed out. “I can ring up Henry. He loves news. He can never keep away from the radio these days.”
Henry Prestley, however, as they soon heard, had also been drawn into the maelstrom. He was engaged at a small international conference of bankers being held at some unknown spot. Sabine was at a matinée. Elida abandoned the telephone in disgust. She stood at the window instead, watching the crowd. Her lover came over and stood by her side. He, too, was watching. He looked upwards to the sky cheerfully.
“No chance for a surprise attack to-night, anyway, unless the weather changes,” he observed. “Elida, will you promise me one thing?”
She smiled up at him.
“Ronnie,” she confessed, “I feel like promising you anything in the world.”
“If the war should really come, Cheshire has promised me active service at once. Would you marry me quickly?”
“Whenever you say.”
There was the sound of someone moving about behind them. They turned round startled. Greyes was standing like a ghost in the middle of the apartment. His voice was almost inaudible.
“I was sorry to have to leave you, sir,” he apologised. “I received an urgent message to take some things over to the hospital.”
“Hospital?” Hincks repeated. “Who is in the hospital, Greyes?”
The man’s face twitched. His voice broke.
“The—the Admiral, sir.”
“In hospital?” Elida exclaimed. “Why is he there?”
“What’s the matter?” Hincks demanded.
Greyes came a little nearer to them.
“I’m sorry, Commander,” he said. “I quite thought that you and the Contessa knew. The Admiral went direct to St. George’s Hospital when he left the Admiralty last night. This morning’s report is not altogether satisfactory. The operation has been postponed until to-morrow.”
“What operation?” Hincks gasped.
Greyes drew a slight breath.
“It seems that the Admiral was working all day yesterday and all the night before with a bullet in his shoulder,” he groaned. “He was shot in that scuffle in Downing Street. It is only briefly mentioned in the morning papers and not even the policemen who were on duty knew that anyone was hurt. The Admiral went straight back to the Admiralty without saying a word about it. When he arrived at the hospital last night he collapsed.”
“My God!” Hincks exclaimed. “He looked like hell all day. Who fired the shot?”
“I could not be sure of the name, sir, but it was one of the men who had been turned out of Downing Street earlier in the day. He was very roughly handled when he tried to get away.”
“I must go to the hospital at once,” Hincks declared. “Elida, will you drive round with me?”
Greyes shook his head.
“It would be quite useless, sir,” he assured them. “I myself was not allowed to see the Admiral and he has just been given a powerful opiate. The Prime Minister’s secretary and Sir Herbert Melville were both there and both sent away when I was.”
“They do not think,” Elida asked fearfully, “that he is in danger?”
“It is impossible to say, Madam. The fact that the bullet remained in his shoulder all the time he was at work has complicated matters.”
The expression on Hincks’s face was one of sheer agony. He turned away and stood with his back to them before the window. That terrible vision seemed to haunt him—the sight of Cheshire, calm and composed, although the sweat was standing upon his forehead, finishing his work, giving his instructions when all the time he must have been suffering torture. His finger nails bit into his palms as he stood there with clenched hands. A few minutes before he had glanced at the few kindly words of instruction and advice which Cheshire had scrawled out for him. It was terrible to think that that might be the last message he would ever receive from his Chief.
“There is someone always on night duty, who will give reports,” Greyes said quietly. “At present, it is useless to go near the hospital. I will let you know if there is any further news.”
“And me, too, at Regent’s Park House,” Elida begged.
“Certainly, Madam,” Greyes promised.
They were left alone once more… .
“A sad end to this glorious day, dear,” Elida whispered. “I am so sorry for you, and terribly, terribly sorry for Guy.”
“He will get over it,” Hincks declared. “He must get over it. He is the fittest man I ever knew. When I saw him drinking that brandy I should have known there was something more than ordinary fatigue the matter with him… . I am not to be seen outside
with you, Elida, so I cannot offer to take you home. Could you let Greyes—”
“I do not need anyone,” she interrupted. “Five minutes alone, Ronnie, and then I will go.”
Their five minutes, however, were never to come. They heard no knock, they heard no opening door. It was the voice behind only, which disturbed them.
“I have come to pay a visit to Admiral Cheshire. Perhaps you can tell me where to find him?”
They both swung round. To Elida the man who stood there, with his hard, thin face with the prominent cheekbones and strange mouth, was the re-embodiment of a nightmare. Hincks, too, although he asked the question, had more than an idea as to his identity.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“My name,” the other replied, “is Florestan.”
CHAPTER XXVIII
Table of Contents
There was an odd little silence in the room. Florestan stood with his back to the door, his eyes looking from one to the other of its occupants.
“I believe,” he said, “I have the honour of speaking to the Contessa Pelucchi.”
“You have had the honour of speaking to her once before,” the girl acknowledged quietly. “You escaped from the police that time. Perhaps, to-day, you will be less fortunate.”
“A mistake, I can assure you,” Florestan replied. “I am a very law-abiding person. The police have nothing against me… . And you, sir, I must have heard of,” he went on, turning to Hincks.
“I don’t see why,” was the guarded response. “I am Commander Hincks.”
“You are associated with Admiral Cheshire, I believe, in his work at the Admiralty.”
“May I ask what business that is of yours?”
“It is my unfortunate mission in life to interfere at times in other people’s affairs. If you are an associate of Admiral Cheshire’s, young man, it seems to me that you are in the same line of business. As for the Contessa, I have for a long while looked forward to the pleasure of seeing her again.”
“Look here,” Hincks demanded, a trifle puzzled. “What’s all this talkie-talkie about? You came to see Admiral Cheshire. I tell you that he is not here. He is unable to see anyone. As a matter of fact, there is no secret about it—he is in a hospital ill. You will excuse me if I point out to you that you are an intruder.”
Florestan smiled faintly. It was far from being a pleasant gesture.
“I am sorry,” he said, “because you will have to put up with my intrusion for a moment or two longer.”
Hincks moved towards the bell. Florestan stretched out his arm. He was barring the way.
“In Admiral Cheshire’s much to be regretted absence,” he continued, “my business is with you, sir, and the young lady. The Contessa has been in the habit of sending various communications to the country which employs me as an agent. The communications, I gather, are handed by you to the young lady and from her to a mutual friend. This time, I am commissioned to be that mutual friend.”
“You are talking nonsense,” Hincks said curtly. “I have never seen you before in my life and what I have heard of you under the name of Copeland, I think it was, I don’t like. Supposing what you have said is the truth, you are the last person with whom I should recommend the Contessa to hold any communication whatever.”
Florestan was an ugly sight as he stood, his lips slightly apart, his teeth showing, a small but very sinister-looking gun in his right hand. His fingers had seemed only to flash through the air towards his pocket. Neither of the two could have told whence the gun came, but it was there with all its unpleasant significance. Elida shrank a little back. Hincks hesitated for a moment.
“I am here for straight talk and quick action,” Florestan said. “What you are doing, young man, in Admiral Cheshire’s rooms I do not know—I do not much care. The Admiral must be of a very forgiving nature. He lets Ryson shoot himself and keeps you on in your place. I don’t care. Only, since you are here, you have got to do as I say. I want those plans your Chief was working on all yesterday. I want them and I am here to get them.”
“That seems a little unfortunate,” Hincks rejoined firmly. “You seem to know so much you shall know the whole truth. The Contessa was entrusted with those plans. She has already delivered them at their destination.”
“When?”
“Within the last two hours.”
“Is that true, Contessa?” Florestan asked, fiercely swinging round on his heel.
“It is true.”
“To whom have you delivered them?”
“That’s no business of yours,” Hincks broke in. “You may be an agent of the country for whom they are intended or you may not. I really do not care. You may as well understand, though, that supposing we were still in possession of those plans, neither the Contessa nor I would ever have entrusted them to you.”
Florestan lowered his revolver. He still, however, held it tightly clenched in his right hand.
“I find your attitude towards me, Commander Hincks, unfriendly,” he sneered.
“It is intended to be so,” Hincks assured him.
“Almost rude,” Florestan continued.
“It is still short of what you deserve,” was the blunt reply.
“I am afraid,” Florestan complained, “that the Contessa has been poisoning your mind against me.”
“She doesn’t need to do that,” Hincks declared. “I have heard enough about you from other sources. You have come on a fruitless errand, Mr. Florestan. If you wanted to examine the papers which were temporarily entrusted to the Contessa Pelucchi you are too late. She has had them and parted with them. The sooner you realise that and clear out the better.”
The intruder shook his head.
“Oh no,” he said, “I am not going to clear out.”
“What are you going to do, then?”
“I am going to await the return of my kind friend, Admiral Cheshire. I am going to find out from him whether you are up to a game of your own, or whether he is in it, too. In plain words, young man, I am going to find out whether those plans are faked with the intention of deceiving the people you passed them on to or whether they are genuine.”
“And where do you propose to wait?” Hincks demanded.
“In this room.”
“Oh no, you are not,” was the swift reply.
Hincks, who had been waiting for his opportunity, was over at the bell, his thumb pressed against it. At a different angle, Florestan’s movements were just as quick. His hands ran lightly but searchingly over Elida. She was powerless to resist. Before she had summoned up her courage and her strength he had finished and stepped back.
“I am disappointed, but in a sense relieved,” he said with ugly sarcasm. “So far as the Contessa is concerned she is absolved. I begin to wonder whether by some chance or other you have not both told the truth.”
“We have,” Hincks assured him, “whether you believe it or not.”
“In that case,” Florestan observed, “it is not worth while shooting either of you. If your plan of the British offensive in the North Sea and the Mediterranean has already been delivered I must change my scheme.”
“What the hell do you know about these plans?” Hincks demanded, for the moment staggered.
Florestan paused in the act of listening. The silence outside was unbroken.
“To remain is scarcely worth the inconvenience to which your clumsy behaviour would expose me,” he said calmly. “If I am really too late to intercept that precious document I shall relieve you of my presence. I wish you—”
“Wait a minute,” Hincks interrupted. “I am not sure that we are ready to let you go. I have a fancy, Mr. Florestan, that the police would be interested to ask you a few questions.”
“Let them come,” was the bold reply. “I had a motor car stolen. I am not responsible for that. Your Chief found a revolver and some cartridges in my room. That, in itself, leads nowhere. There is no evidence against me of having ever broken the law. I may be an agent for a country wi
th which England is not at present on speaking terms. What about it? I have done nothing illegal. I am a member of one of the oldest established and best known firms of merchants in the City. I have had large dealings with the Admiralty. They owe me, at the moment, over two million pounds.”
Hincks, who had not quitted his position close to the bell, thrust his thumb upon the knob once more. Then he wheeled round to face the intruder.
“Look here, Florestan,” he said. “You have come here and asked a good many foolish questions. I will ask you one. You admit that in England, you, a member of a firm of English merchants, are the agent of a foreign power. The Contessa here is a native of that country and has been in correspondence with them. Who, I ask you, gave you the right to interfere?”
“Capital,” Florestan commented. “There is nothing so subtle as the truth. It is my object to find out on behalf of the Contessa’s own country whether she is working in their interests or whether she is working against them on behalf of England.”
“How could she be working against them?” Hincks asked.
“By giving them false information.”
There was a moment’s tense silence. Florestan looked from one to the other of them. Elida had covered her face with her hands. She was racked with inward sobs. If this terrible man would only go away! She was more than ever thankful that she had checked her first impulse to scream at the sight of him and tell Ronnie of that horrible ride in the taxicab and her visit to the club.
“Because, you see,” Florestan continued glibly, “if the Contessa is passing on information which is of service to her country with your help, Commander Hincks, and the help of Admiral Cheshire, you two are guilty of high treason, and as a British citizen, it becomes my duty to denounce you. If, on the other hand, the information is faked, then, on behalf of the country whose agent I am, it is very important that I should denounce the Contessa to them. That is why I am so anxious to examine some of this so-called information. In Rome the name of Pelucchi is sacred. They have a great opinion of me but they will listen to no warning that I have offered them. There you are, my two friends. There’s the whole position. No more mystery between us, you see. All fair and above-board. If these last plans which you have somehow or other smuggled over to Italy are genuine, show me a copy and give me twenty-four hours. I will tell you whether they are genuine or not. I will tell you whether it becomes my duty to denounce you and your Chief, Commander Hincks, to the British Government, or whether the Contessa Pelucchi is a traitress to her own country.”
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