Havoc
by
E. Philips Oppenheim
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I CROWNED HEADS MEET II ARTHUR DORWARD'S "SCOOP" III "OURS IS A STRANGE COURTSHIP" IV THE NIGHT TRAIN FROM VIENNA V "VON BEHRLING HAS THE PACKET" VI VON BEHRLING IS TEMPTED VII "WE PLAY FOR GREAT STAKES VIII THE HAND OF MISFORTUNE IX ROBBING THE DEAD X BELLAMY IS OUTWITTED XI VON BEHRLING'S FATE XII BARON DE STREUSS' PROPOSAL XIII STEPHEN LAVERICK'S CONSCIENCE XIV ARTHUR MORRISON'S COLLAPSE XV LAVERICK'S PARTNER FLEES XVI THE WAITER AT THE "BLACK POST XVII THE PRICE OF SILENCE XVIII THE LONELY CHORUS GIRL XIX MYSTERIOUS INQUIRIES XX LAVERICK IS CROSS EXAMINED XXI MADEMOISELLE IDIALE'S VISIT XXII ACTIVITY OF AUSTRIAN SPIES XXIII LAVERICK AT THE OPERA XXIV A SUPPER PARTY AT LUIGI'S XXV JIM SHEPHERD'S SCARE XXVI THE DOCUMENT DISCOVERED XXVII PENETRATING A MYSTERY XXVIII LAVERICK'S NARROW ESCAPE XXIX LASSEN'S TREACHERY DISCOVERED XXX THE CONTEST FOR THE PAPERS XXXI MISS LENEVEU'S MESSAGE XXXII MORRISON IS DESPERATE XXXIII LAVERICK'S ARREST XXXIV MORRISON'S DISCLOSURE XXXV BELLAMY'S SUCCESS XXXVI LAVERICK ACQUITTED XXXVII THE PLOT TEAT FAILED XXXVIII A FAREWELL APPEARANCE
HAVOC
CHAPTER I
CROWNED HEADS MEET
Bellamy, King's Spy, and Dorward, journalist, known to fame in everyEnglish-speaking country, stood before the double window of theirspacious sitting-room, looking down upon the thoroughfare beneath.Both men were laboring under a bitter sense of failure. Bellamy'sface was dark with forebodings; Dorward was irritated and nervous.Failure was a new thing to him--a thing which those behind thegreat journals which he represented understood less, even, than he.Bellamy loved his country, and fear was gnawing at his heart.
Below, the crowds which had been waiting patiently for many hoursbroke into a tumult of welcoming voices. Down their thickly-packedlines the volume of sound arose and grew, a faint murmur at first,swelling and growing to a thunderous roar. Myriads of hats weresuddenly torn from the heads of the excited multitude, handkerchiefswaved from every window. It was a wonderful greeting, this.
"The Czar on his way to the railway station," Bellamy remarked.
The broad avenue was suddenly thronged with a mass of soldiery--guardsmenof the most famous of Austrian regiments, brilliant in their whiteuniforms, their flashing helmets. The small brougham with itsgreat black horses was almost hidden within a ring of naked steel.Dorward, an American to the backbone and a bitter democrat, thrustout his under-lip.
"The Anointed of the Lord!" he muttered.
Far away from some other quarter came the same roar of voices,muffled yet insistent, charged with that faint, exciting timbrewhich seems always to live in the cry of the multitude.
"The Emperor," declared Bellamy. "He goes to the West station."
The commotion had passed. The crowds in the street below were onthe move, melting away now with a muffled trampling of feet and amurmur of voices. The two men turned from their window back intothe room. Dorward commenced to roll a cigarette with yellow-stained,nervous fingers, while Bellamy threw himself into an easy-chair witha gesture of depression.
"So it is over, this long-talked-of meeting," he said, half tohimself, half to Dorward. "It is over, and Europe is left to wonder."
"They were together for scarcely more than an hour," Dorward murmured.
"Long enough," Bellamy answered. "That little room in the Palace,my friend, may yet become famous."
"If you and I could buy its secrets," Dorward remarked, finallyshaping a cigarette and lighting it, "we should be big bidders, Ithink. I'd give fifty thousand dollars myself to be able to cableeven a hundred words of their conversation."
"For the truth," Bellamy said, "the whole truth, there could be noprice sufficient. We made our effort in different directions, bothof us. With infinite pains I planted--I may tell you this now thatthe thing is over--seven spies in the Palace. They have been ofas much use as rabbits. I don't believe that a single one of themgot any further than the kitchens."
Dorward nodded gloomily.
"I guess they weren't taking any chances up there," he remarked."There wasn't a secretary in the room. Carstairs was nearly thrownout, and he had a permit to enter the Palace. The great staircasewas held with soldiers, and Dick swore that there were Maxims in thecorridors."
Bellamy sighed.
"We shall hear the roar of bigger guns before we are many monthsolder, Dorward," he declared.
The journalist glanced at his friend keenly. "You believe that?"
Bellamy shrugged his shoulders.
"Do you suppose that this meeting is for nothing?" he asked. "WhenAustria, Germany and Russia stand whispering in a corner, can't youbelieve it is across the North Sea that they point? Things havebeen shaping that way for years, and the time is almost ripe."
"You English are too nervous to live, nowadays," Dorward declaredimpatiently. "I'd just like to know what they said about America."
Bellamy smiled with faint but delicate irony.
"Without a doubt, the Prince will tell you," he said. "He canscarcely do more to show his regard for your country. He is givingyou a special interview--you alone out of about two hundredjournalists. Very likely he will give you an exact account ofeverything that transpired. First of all, he will assure you thatthis meeting has been brought about in the interests of peace. Hewill tell you that the welfare of your dear country is foremost inthe thoughts of his master. He will assure you--"
"Say, you're jealous, my friend," Dorward interrupted calmly. "Iwonder what you'd give me for my ten minutes alone with theChancellor, eh?"
"If he told me the truth," Bellamy asserted, "I'd give my life forit. For the sort of stuff you're going to hear, I'd give nothing.Can't you realize that for yourself, Dorward? You know the man--falseas Hell but with the tongue of a serpent. He will grasp yourhand; he will declare himself glad to speak through you to the greatAnglo-Saxon races--to England and to his dear friends the Americans.He is only too pleased to have the opportunity of expressing himselfcandidly and openly. Peace is to be the watchword of the future.The white doves have hovered over the Palace. The rulers of theearth have met that the crash of arms may be stilled and that thisterrible unrest which broods over Europe shall finally be broken up.They have pledged themselves hand in hand to work together for thisobject,--Russia, broken and humiliated, but with an immense armystill available, whose only chance of holding her place among thenations is another and a successful war; Austria, on fire for theseaboard--Austria, to whom war would give the desire of herexistence; Germany, with Bismarck's last but secret words written inletters of fire on the walls of her palaces, in the hearts of herrulers, in the brain of her great Emperor. Colonies! Expansion!Empire! Whose colonies, I wonder? Whose empire? Will he tell youthat, my friend Dorward?"
The journalist shrugged his shoulders and glanced at the clock.
"I guess he'll tell me what he chooses and I shall print it," heanswered indifferently. "It's all part of the game, of course. Iam not exactly chicken enough to expect the truth. All the same,my message will come from the lips of the Chancellor immediatelyafter this wonderful meeting."
"He makes use of you," Bellamy declared, "to throw dust into oureyes and yours."
"Even so," Dorward admitted, "I don't care so long as I get thecopy. It's good-bye, I suppose?"
Bellamy nodded.
"I shall go on to Berlin, perhaps, to-morrow," he said. "I can dono more good here. And you?"
"After I've sent my cable I'm off to Belgrade for a week, at anyrate," Dorward answered. "I hear the women are forming rifleclubs all through Servia."
Bellamy smiled thoughtfully.
<
br /> "I know one who'll want a place among the leaders," he murmured.
"Mademoiselle Idiale, I suppose?"
Bellamy assented.
"It's a queer position hers, if you like," he said. "All Viennaraves about her. They throng the Opera House every night to hearher sing, and they pay her the biggest salary which has ever beenknown here. Three parts of it she sends to Belgrade to the Chiefof the Committee for National Defence. The jewels that are sent heranonymously go to the same place, all to buy arms to fight thesepeople who worship her. I tell you, Dorward," he added, rising tohis feet and walking to the window, "the patriotism of these peopleis something we colder races scarcely understand. Perhaps it isbecause we have never dwelt under the shadow of a conqueror. Ifever Austria is given a free hand, it will be no mere war upon whichshe enters,--it will be a carnage, an extermination!"
Dorward looked once more at the clock and rose slowly to his feet.
"Well," he said, "I mustn't keep His Excellency waiting. Good-bye,and cheer up, Bellamy! Your old country isn't going to turn upher heels yet."
Out he went--long, lank, uncouth, with yellow-stained fingers andhatchet-shaped, gray face--a strange figure but yet a power.Bellamy remained. For a while he seemed doubtful how to pass thetime. He stood in front of the window, watching the dispersal ofthe crowds and the marching by of a regiment of soldiers, whosemovements he followed with critical interest, for he, too, had beenin the service. He had still a military bearing,--tall, and withcomplexion inclined to be dusky, a small black moustache, dark eyes,a silent mouth,--a man of many reserves. Even his intimates knewlittle of him. Nevertheless, his was the reticence which befittedwell his profession.
After a time he sat down and wrote some letters. He had justfinished when there came a sharp tap at the door. Before he couldopen his lips some one had entered. He heard the soft swirl ofdraperies and turned sharply round, then sprang to his feet andheld out both his hands. There was expression in his face now--asmuch as he ever suffered to appear there.
"Louise!" he exclaimed. "What good fortune!"
She held his fingers for a moment in a manner which betokened amore than common intimacy. Then she threw herself into aneasy-chair and raised her thick veil. Bellamy looked at her for amoment in sorrowful silence. There were violet lines underneathher beautiful eyes, her cheeks were destitute of any color. Therewas an abandonment of grief about her attitude which moved him.She sat as one broken-spirited, in whom the power of resistance wasdead.
"It is over, then," she said softly, "this meeting. The word hasbeen spoken."
He came and stood by her side.
"As yet," he reminded her, "we do not know what that word may be."
She shook her head mournfully.
"Who can doubt?" she exclaimed. "For myself, I feel it in the air!I can see it in the faces of the people who throng the city! I canhear it in the peals of those awful bells! You know nothing? Youhave heard nothing?"
Bellamy shook his head.
"I did all that was humanly possible," he said, dropping his voice."An Englishman in Vienna to-day has very little opportunity. Ifilled the Palace with spies, but they hadn't a dog's chance. Therewasn't even a secretary present. The Czar, the two Emperors and theChancellor,--not another soul was in the room."
"If only Von Behrling had been taken!" she exclaimed. "He was therein reserve, I know, as stenographer. I have but to lift my handand it is enough. I would have had the truth from him, whatever itcost me."
Bellamy looked at her thoughtfully. It was not for nothing thatthe Press of every European nation had called her the most beautifulwoman in the world. He frowned slightly at her last words, for heloved her.
"Von Behrling was not even allowed to cross the threshold," he saidsharply.
She moved her head and looked up at him. She was leaning a littleforward now, her chin resting upon her hands. Something about thelines of her long, supple body suggested to him the savage animalcrouching for a spring. She was quiet, but her bosom was heaving,and he could guess at the passion within. With purpose he spoke toset it loose.
"You sing to-night?" he asked.
"Before God, no!" she answered, the anger blazing out of her eyes,shaking in her voice. "I sing no more in this accursed city!"
"There will be a revolution," Bellamy remarked. "I see that thewhole city is placarded with notices. It is to be a gala night atthe Opera. The royal party is to be present."
Her body seemed to quiver like a tree shaken by the wind.
"What do I care--I--I--for their gala night! If I were likeSamson, if I could pull down the pillars of their Opera House andbury them all in its ruins, I would do it!"
He took her hand and smoothed it in his.
"Dear Louise, it is useless, this. You do everything that can bedone for your country."
Her eyes were streaming and her fingers sought his.
"My friend David," she said, "you do not understand. None of youEnglish yet can understand what it is to crouch in the shadow ofthis black fear, to feel a tyrant's hand come creeping out, to knowthat your life-blood and the life-blood of all your people must beshed, and shed in vain. To rob a nation of their liberty, ah! itis worse, this, than murder,--a worse crime than his who stainsthe soul of a poor innocent girl! It is a sin against natureherself!"
She was sobbing now, and she clutched his hands passionately.
"Forgive me," she murmured, "I am overwrought. I have borne upagainst this thing so long. I can do no more good here. I cometo tell you that I go away till the time comes. I go to yourLondon. They want me to sing for them there. I shall do it."
"You will break your engagement?"
She laughed at him scornfully.
"I am Idiale," she declared. "I keep no engagement if I do notchoose. I will sing no more to this people whom I hate. My friendDavid, I have suffered enough. Their applause I loathe--theircovetous eyes as they watch me move about the stage--oh, I couldstrike them all dead! They come to me, these young Austriannoblemen, as though I were already one of a conquered race. I keeptheir diamonds but I destroy their messages. Their jewels go tomy chorus girls or to arm my people. But no one of them has had akind word from me save where there has been something to be gained.Even Von Behrling I have fooled with promises. No Austrian shallever touch my lips--I have sworn it!"
Bellamy nodded.
"Yes," he assented, "they call you cold here in the capital! Evenin the Palace--"
She held out her hand.
"It is finished!" she declared. "I sing no more. I have sent wordto the Opera House. I came here to be in hiding for a while. Theywill search for me everywhere. To-night or to-morrow I leave forEngland."
Bellamy stood thoughtfully silent.
"I am not sure that you are wise," he said. "You take it too muchfor granted that the end has come."
"And do you not yourself believe it?" she demanded. He hesitated.
"As yet there is no proof," he reminded her.
"Proof!"
She sat upright in her chair. Her hands thrust him from her, herbosom heaved, a spot of color flared in her cheeks.
"Proof!" she cried. "What do you suppose, then, that these wolveshave plotted for? What else do you suppose could be Austria's shareof the feast? Couldn't you hear our fate in the thunder of theirvoices when that miserable monarch rode back to his captivity? Weare doomed--betrayed! You remember the Massacre of St. Bartholomew,a blood-stained page of history for all time. The world would tellyou that we have outlived the age of such barbarous doings. It isnot true. My friend David, it is not true. It is a more terriblething, this which is coming. Body and soul we are to perish."
He came over to her side once more and laid his hand soothingly onhers. It was heart-rending to witness the agony of the woman heloved.
"Dear Louise," he said, "after all, this is profitless. There mayyet be compromises."
She suffered her hand to remain in his, but
the bitterness did notpass out of her face or tone.
"Compromises!" she repeated. "Do you believe, then, that we arelike those ancient races who felt the presence of a conquerorbecause their hosts were scattered in battle, and who sufferedthemselves passively to be led into captivity? My country can beconquered in one way, and one way only,--not until her sons, ay,and her daughters too, have perished, can these people rule. Theywill come to an empty and a stricken country--a country red withblood, desolate, with blackened houses and empty cities. Thehorror of it! Think, my friend David, the horror of it!"
Bellamy threw his head back with a sudden gesture of impatience.
"You take too much for granted," he declared. "England, at anyrate, is not yet a conquered race. And there is France--Italy,too, if she is wise, will never suffer this thing from her ancientenemy."
"It is the might of the world which threatens," she murmured."Your country may defend herself, but here she is powerless.Already it has been proved. Last year you declared yourself ourfriend--you and even Russia. Of what avail was it? Word camefrom Berlin and you were powerless."
Then tragedy broke into the room, tragedy in the shape of a mandemented. For fifteen years Bellamy had known Arthur Dorward, butthis man was surely a stranger! He was hatless, dishevelled, wild.A dull streak of color had mounted almost to his forehead, his eyeswere on fire.
"Bellamy!" he cried. "Bellamy!"
Words failed him suddenly. He leaned against the table, breathless,panting heavily.
"For God's sake, man," Bellamy began,--
"Alone!" Dorward interrupted. "I must see you alone! I have news!"
Mademoiselle Idiale rose. She touched Bellamy on the shoulder.
"You will come to me, or telephone," she whispered. "So?"
Bellamy opened the door and she passed out, with a farewell pressureof his fingers. Then he closed it firmly and came back.
Havoc Page 1
