Part 33 (1/2)
Answer me this question. Have you parted with any of our secrets?”
”Not one,” the Prince a.s.sured him. ”A certain lady visited this house last night, not, as you seem to think, at my invitation, but on her own initiative. She was not successful in her quest.”
”She would not pay the price, eh?” Immelan sneered. ”By the G.o.ds of your ancestors, Prince Shan, are there not women enough in the world for you without bartering your honour, and the great future of your country, for a blue-eyed jade of an Englishwoman?”
The Prince sat slowly up. His appearance was ominous. His face had become set as marble; there was a look in his eyes like the flas.h.i.+ng of a light upon black metal. He contemplated his visitor across the lilies.
”A man so near to death, Immelan,” he enjoined, ”might choose his words more carefully.”
Immelan laughed scornfully.
”I am not to be bullied,” he declared. ”Your doors with their patent locks have no fears for me. When you walk abroad, you are followed by members of your household. When you come to my rooms, they attend you. I am not a prince, but I, too, have a care for my skin. Three of my secret service men never let me out of their sight. They are within call at this moment.”
His host smiled.
”This is very interesting,” he said, ”but you should know me better, Immelan, than to imagine that mine are the clumsy methods of the dagger or the bullet. The man whom I will to die--drinks with me.”
He pointed a long forefinger at the empty gla.s.s. Immelan gazed at it, and the sweat stood out upon his forehead.
”My G.o.d!” he muttered. ”There was a queer taste! I thought that it was aniseed!”
”There was nothing in that gla.s.s,” the Prince declared, ”which the greatest chemist who ever breathed could detect as poison, yet you will die, my friend Immelan, without any doubt. Shall I tell you how? Would you know in what manner the pains will come? No? But, my friend, you disappoint me! You showed so much courage an hour ago. Listen. Feel for a swelling just behind--Ah!”
Immelan was already across the room. The Prince touched a bell, the doors were opened. Ghastly pale, his head swimming, the tortured man dashed out into the street. The Prince leaned back amongst his cus.h.i.+ons, untied a straw-fastened packet of his long cigarettes, lit one, and closed his eyes.
CHAPTER XXVI
Nigel was just arriving at Dorminster House when Maggie returned from her ride. He a.s.sisted her to dismount and entered the house with her.
”There is something here I should like to show you, Maggie,” he said, as he drew a dispatch from his pocket. ”It was sent round to me half an hour ago by Chalmers, from the American Emba.s.sy.”
”It's about Gilbert Jesson!” Maggie exclaimed, holding out her hand for it.
Nigel nodded.
”There's a note inside, and an enclosure,” he said. ”You had better read both.”
Maggie opened out the former:
MY DEAR DORMINSTER,
I am afraid there is rather bad news about Jesson. One of our regular line of airs.h.i.+ps, running from San Francisco to Vladivostok, has picked up a wireless which must have come from somewhere in the South of China. They kept it for a few days, worse luck, thinking it was only nonsense, as it was in code. Was.h.i.+ngton got hold of it, however, and cabled it to us last night. I enclose a copy, decoded.
Sincerely yours,
JERE CHALMERS.
The copy was brief enough. Maggie felt her heart sink as she glanced through the few lines: