Part 51 (1/2)
”Are you certain she was a Bretonne?” he asked. His nervousness surprised me.
”Does she not say so?” I replied.
”I know--I know--but that message--there is only one woman who could have sent it--” He hesitated, red as a pippin.
He was so young, so manly, so unspoiled, and so red, that on an impulse I said: ”Kelly, it was Mademoiselle Elven who sent you the message.”
His face expressed troubled astonishment.
”Is that her name?” he asked.
”Well--it's one of them, anyway,” I replied, beginning to feel troubled in my turn. ”See here, Kelly, it's not my business, but you won't mind if I speak plainly, will you? The times are queer--you understand. Everybody is suspicious; everybody is under suspicion in these days. And I want to say that the young lady who sent that curious message to you is as clever as twenty men like you and me.”
He was silent.
”If it is a love affair, I'll stop now--not a question, you understand. If it is not--well, as an older and more battered and world-worn man, I'm going to make a suggestion to you--with your permission.”
”Make it,” he said, quietly.
”Then I will. Don't talk to Mademoiselle Elven. You, Speed, and I know something about a certain conspiracy; we are going to know more before we inform the captain of that cruiser out there beyond Point Paradise. I know Mademoiselle Elven--slightly. I am afraid of her--and I have not yet decided why. Don't talk to her.”
”But--I don't know her,” he said; ”or, at least I don't know her by that name.”
After a moment I said: ”Is the person in question the companion of the Countess de Va.s.sart?”
”If she is I do not know it,” he replied.
”Was she once an actress?”
”It would astonish me to believe it!” he said.
”Then who do you believe sent you that message, Kelly?”
His cheeks began to burn again, and he gave me an uncomfortable look.
A silence, and he sat down in my dressing-room, his boyish head buried in his hands. After a glance at him I began changing my training-suit for riding-clothes, whistling the while softly to myself. As I b.u.t.toned a fresh collar he looked up.
”Mr. Scarlett, you are well-born and--you are here in the circus with the rest of us. You know what we are--you know that two or three of us have seen better days,... that something has gone wrong with us to bring us here,... but we never speak of it,... and never ask questions.... But I should like to tell you about myself;... you are a gentleman, you know,... and I was not born to anything in particular.... I was a clerk in the consul's office in Paris when Monsieur Tissandier took a fancy to me, and I entered his balloon ateliers to learn to a.s.sist him.”
He hesitated. I tied my necktie very carefully before a bit of broken mirror.
”Then the government began to make much of us,... you remember? We started experiments for the army.... I was intensely interested, and ... there was not much talk about secrecy then,... and my salary was large, and I was received at the Tuileries. My head was turned;...
life was easy, brilliant. I made an invention--a little electric screw which steered a balloon ... sometimes...” He laughed, a mirthless laugh, and looked at me. All the color had gone from his face.
”There was a woman--” I turned partly towards him.
”We met first at the British Emba.s.sy,... then elsewhere,...
everywhere.... We skated together at the club in the Bois at that celebrated fete,... you know?--the Emperor was there--”
”I know,” I said.