Part 6 (1/2)
Presently, when the first rush for the boat was over, and the porters who had come to the door of our compartment had gone away empty-handed, I would have got out, had I not caught an imploring glance from the little man who had reserved the carriage. Perhaps I imagined it, but his pink-rimmed eyes seemed to say, ”For heaven's sake, don't leave me alone with these others.”
”Would you be so very kind, sir,” he said to me, ”to beckon a porter, as you are near the door? I find after all that I shan't be able to carry everything myself.”
I did as he asked; and there was so much confusion in the carriage when the porter came, that in self-defence the two friends got out with their bags. I also descended and would have followed in the wake of the crowd, if the little man had not called after me. He had lost his ticket, he said. Would I be so extremely obliging as to throw an eye about the platform to see if it had fallen there?
I did oblige him in this manner, without avail; but by this time he had found the missing treasure in the folds of his travelling rug; and scrambling out of the carriage, attended by the porter I had secured for him, he would have walked by my side towards the boat, had I not dropped behind a few steps, thinking--as always--of the contents of that inner breast pocket.
He and I were now at the tail-end of the procession hastening boatward, or almost at the tail, for there were but four or five other pa.s.sengers--a family party with a fat nurse and crying baby--behind us.
As I approached the gangway, I saw on deck my late travelling companions, the Jewish man and his friend, regarding us with interest.
Then, just as I was about to step on board, almost on the little man's heels, there came a cry apparently from someone ahead: ”Look out--gangway's falling!”
In an instant all was confusion. The fat nurse behind me screamed, as the nervous fellow in front leaped like a cat, intent on saving himself no matter what happened to anyone else, and flung me against the woman with the baby. Two or three excitable Frenchmen just ahead also attempted to turn, thus nearly throwing the little man onto his knees.
The large bag which he carried hit me across the s.h.i.+ns; in his terror he almost embraced me as he helped himself up: the nurse, as she stumbled, pitched forward onto my shoulder, and if I had not seized the howling baby, it would certainly have fallen under our feet.
My bowler was knocked over my eyes, and though an officer of the boat cried the rea.s.suring intelligence that it was a false alarm--that the gangway was ”all right,” and never had been anything but all right, I could not readjust my hat nor see what was going on until the fat nurse had obligingly retrieved her charge, without a word of thanks.
My first thought was for the letter-case in my pocket, for I had a horrible idea that the scare might have been got up for the express purpose of robbing me of it. But I could feel its outline as plainly as ever under my coat, and decided, thankfully, that after all the alarm had had nothing to do with me.
I had wired for a private cabin, thinking it would be well to be out of the way of my fellow-pa.s.sengers during the crossing: but the weather had been rough for a day or two (it was not yet the middle of April) and everything was already engaged; therefore I walked the deck most of the time, always conscious of the unusual thickness of my breast pocket. The little man paced up and down, too, though his yellow face grew slowly green, and he would have been much better off below, lying on his back.
As for the two others, they also remained on deck, talking together as they leaned against the rail; but though I pa.s.sed them now and again, I noticed that the little man invariably avoided them by turning before he reached their ”pitch.”
At the Gare du Nord I regretted that I had not carried my own bag, because if I had it would have been examined on the boat, and all bother would have been over. But rather than run any risks in the crowd thronging the _douane_, I decided to let the suitcase look after itself, and send down for it with the key from the hotel later. Again the little man was close to my side as I went in search of a cab, for all his things had been gone through by the custom house officer in mid-channel, so that he too was free to depart without delay. He even seemed to cling to me, somewhat wistfully, and I half thought he meant to speak, but he did not, save for a ”good evening, sir,” as I separated myself from him at last. He had stuck rather too close, elbow to elbow; but I had no fear for the letter-case, as he was on the wrong side to play any conjurer's tricks with that. The last I saw of the fellow, he was walking toward a cab, and looking uneasily over his shoulder at his two late travelling companions, who were getting into another vehicle near by.
I went straight to the elysee Palace Hotel, where I had never stopped before--a long drive from the Gare du Nord--and claimed the rooms for which ”Mr. George Sandford” had wired from London. The suite engaged was a charming one, and the private salon almost worthy to receive the lovely lady I expected. Nor did she keep me waiting. I had had time only to give instructions about sending a man with a key to the station for my luggage, to say that a lady would call, to reach my rooms, and to draw the curtains over the windows, when a knock came at the salon door.
I was in the act of turning on the electric light when this happened, but to my surprise the room remained in darkness--or rather, in a pink dusk lent by the colour of the curtains.
”The lady has arrived, Monsieur,” announced the servant. ”As Monsieur expected her, she has come up without waiting; but I regret that something has gone wrong with the electricity, all over the hotel. It was but just now discovered, at time for turning on the lights, otherwise lamps and plenty of candles would have been provided, though no doubt the light will fonctionne properly in a few minutes. If Monsieur permits, I will instantly bring him a lamp.”
”No, thank you,” I said hurriedly, for I did not wish to be interrupted in the midst of my important interview with Maxine. ”If the light comes on, it will he all right: if not, I will put back the curtains; and it is not yet quite dark. Show the lady in.”
Into the pink twilight of the curtained room came Maxine de Renzie, whose tall and n.o.ble figure I recognised in its plain, close-fitting black dress, though her wide brimmed hat was draped with a thickly embroidered veil that completely hid her face, while long, graceful lace folds fell over and obscured the bright auburn of her hair.
”One moment,” I said. ”Let me push the curtains back. The electricity has failed.”
”No, no,” she answered. ”Better leave them as they are. The lights may come on and we be seen from outside. Why,”--as she drew nearer to me, and the servant closed the door, ”I thought I recognised that voice! It is Ivor Dundas.”
”No other,” said I. ”Didn't the--weren't you warned who would be the man to come?”
”No,” she replied. ”Only the a.s.sumed name of the messenger and place of meeting were wired. It was safer so, even though the telegram was in a cypher which I trust n.o.body knows--except myself and one other. But I'm glad--glad it's you. It was clever of--him, to have sent you. No one would dream that--no one would think it strange if they knew--as I hope they won't--that you came to Paris to see me. Oh, the relief that you've got through safely! Nothing has happened? You have--the paper?”
”Nothing has happened, and I have the paper,” I rea.s.sured her. ”No adventures, to speak of, on the way, and no reason to think I've been spotted. Anyway, here I am; and here is something which will put an end to your anxiety.” And I tapped the breast of my coat, meaningly.
”Thank G.o.d!” breathed Maxine, with a thrilling note in her voice which would have done her great credit on the stage, though I am sure she was never further in her life from the thought of acting. ”After all I've suffered, it seems too good to be true. Give it to me, quick, Ivor, and let me go.”
”I will,” I said. ”But you might seem to take just a little more interest in me, even if you don't really feel it, you know. You might just say, 'How have you been for the last twelve months?'”
”Oh, I do take an interest, and I'm grateful to you--I can't tell you how grateful. But I have no time to think either of you or myself now,”
she said, eagerly. ”If you knew everything, you'd understand.”
”I know practically nothing,” I confessed; ”still, I do understand. I was only teasing you. Forgive me. I oughtn't to have done it, even for a minute. Here is the letter-case which the Foreign--which was given to me to bring to you.”