Part 43 (1/2)
”What matter?”
”The matter concerning those papers. I tell you it does not concern you; it is none of your business. Let me be frank with you: the papers are of importance to a foreign government--to the German Government.
And in no way do they threaten your people or your country's welfare.
Why, then, do you interfere? Why do you use violence toward an agent of a foreign and friendly government?”
”Why does a foreign and friendly government employ spies in a friendly country?”
”All governments do.”
”Is that so?”
”It is. America swarms with British and French agents.”
”How do you know?”
”It's my business to know, Mr. Neeland.”
”Then that _is_ your profession! You really are a spy?”
”Yes.”
”And you pursue this enn.o.bling profession with an enthusiasm which does not stop short of murder!”
”I had no choice.”
”Hadn't you? Your business seems to be rather a deadly one, doesn't it, Scheherazade?”
”Yes, it might become so.... Mr. Neeland, I have no personal feeling of anger for you. You offered me violence; you behaved brutally, indecently. But I want you to understand that no petty personal feeling incites me. The wrong you have done me is nothing; the injury you threaten to do my country is very grave. I ask you to believe that I speak the truth. It is in the service of my country that I have acted. Nothing matters to me except my country's welfare. Individuals are nothing; the Fatherland everything.... Will you give me back my papers?”
”No. I shall return them to their owner.”
”Is that final?”
”It is.”
”I am sorry,” she said.
A moment later the lights of Orangeville came into distant view across the dark and rolling country.
CHAPTER XVI
SCHEHERAZADE
At the Orangeville garage Neeland stopped his car, put on his straw hat, got out carrying suitcase and box, entered the office, and turned over the care of the machine to an employee with orders to drive it back to Neeland's Mills the next morning.
Then he leisurely returned to his prisoner who had given him her name as Ilse Dumont and who was standing on the sidewalk beside the car.
”Well, Scheherazade,” he said, smiling, ”teller of marvellous tales, I don't quite believe your stories, but they were extremely entertaining. So I won't bowstring you or cut off your unusually attractive head! No! On the contrary, I thank you for your wonder-tales, and for not murdering me. And, furthermore, I bestow upon you your liberty. Have you sufficient cash to take you where you desire to waft yourself?”