Part 6 (2/2)

”Wait!” she exclaimed, still in the half whisper from which she had never departed. ”Wait! It will he better to lock the door.” But even as she spoke, there came a knock, loud and insistent. With a spring, she flung herself on me, her hand fumbling for the pocket I had tapped suggestively a moment ago. I let her draw out the long case which I had been guarding--the case I had not once touched since leaving London, except to feel anxiously for its outline through my b.u.t.toned coat. At least, whatever might be about to happen, she had it in her own hands now.

Neither of us spoke nor made a sound during the instant that she clung to me, the faint, well-remembered perfume of her hair, her dress, in my nostrils. But as she started away, and I knew that she had the letter-case, the knock came again. Then, before I could be sure whether she wished for time to hide, or whether she would have me cry ”come in,”

without seeming to hesitate, the door opened. For a second or two Maxine and I, and a group of figures at the door were mere shadows in the ever deepening pink dusk: but I could scarcely have counted ten before the long expected light sprang up. I had turned it on in more than one place: and a sudden, brilliant illumination showed me a tall Commissary of Police, with two little gendarmes looking over his shoulder.

I threw a glance at Maxine, who was still veiled, and was relieved to see that she had found some means of putting the letter-case out of sight. Having ascertained this, I sharply enquired in French what in the devil's name the Commissary of Police meant by walking into an Englishman's room without being invited; and not only that, but what under heaven he wanted anyway.

He was far more polite than I was.

”Ten thousand pardons, Monsieur,” he apologised. ”I knocked twice, but hearing no answer, entered, thinking that perhaps, after all, the salon was unoccupied. Important business must be my excuse. I have to request that Monsieur Dundas will first place in my hands the gift he has brought from London to Mademoiselle de Renzie.”

”I have brought no gift for Mademoiselle de Renzie,” I prevaricated boldly; but the man's knowledge of my name was ominous. If the Paris police had contrived to learn it already, as well as to find out that I was the bearer of something for Maxine, it looked as if they knew enough to play the game in their own way--whatever that might be.

”Perhaps I should say, the thing which Mademoiselle lent--to a friend in England, and Monsieur has now kindly returned,” amended the Commissary of Police as politely, as patiently, as ever.

”Really, I don't know what you are talking about,” I said, shrugging my shoulders and looking bewildered--or hoping that I looked bewildered.

All the while I was wondering, desperately, if this meant ruin for Maxine, or if she would still find some way of saving herself. But all I could do for her at the moment was to keep calm, and tell as many lies as necessary. I hadn't been able to lie to Diana; but I had no compunctions about doing it now, if it were to help Maxine. The worst was, that I was far from sure it would help her.

”I trust, Monsieur, that you do not wish to prevent the French police from doing their duty,” said the officer, his tone becoming peremptory for the first time. ”Should you attempt it, I should unfortunately be compelled to order that Monsieur be searched.”

”You seem to forget that you're dealing with a British subject,” said I.

”Who is offending against the laws of a friendly country,” he capped my words. ”You can complain afterwards, Monsieur. But now--”

”Why don't you empty your pockets, Mr. Dundas,” suggested Maxine, lightly, yet contemptuously, ”and show them that you've nothing in which the police can have any interest? I suppose the next thing they propose, will be to search me.”

”I deeply regret to say that will be the next thing, Mademoiselle, unless satisfaction is given to me,” returned the Commissary of Police.

Maxine threw back her thick veil; and if this were the first time these men had ever seen the celebrated actress off the stage, it seemed to me that her beauty must almost have dazzled them, thus suddenly displayed.

For Maxine is a gloriously handsome woman, and never had she been most striking, more wonderful, than at that moment, when her dark eyes laughed out of her white face, and her red lips smiled as if neither they, nor the great eyes, had any secret to hide.

”Look at me,” she said, throwing back her arms in such a way as to bring forward her slender body, in the tight black sheath of the dress which was of the fas.h.i.+on which, I think, women call ”Princess.” It fitted her as smoothly as the gloves that covered her arms to the elbows.

”Do you think there is much chance for concealment in this dress?” she asked. ”I haven't a pocket, you see. No self-respecting woman could have, in a gown like this. I don't know in the least what sort of 'gift'

my old friend is supposed to have brought me. Is it large or small? I'll take off my gloves and let you see my rings, if you like, Monsieur le Commisaire, for I've been taught, as a servant of the public, to be civil to my fellow servants, even if they should be unreasonable. No?

You don't want to see my rings? Let me oblige you by taking off my hat, then. I might have put the thing--whatever it is--in my hair.”

As she spoke, she drew out her hatpins, still laughing in a half scornful, half good-natured way. She was bewitching as she stood smiling, with her black hat and veil in her hand, the ruffled waves of her dark red hair shadowing her forehead.

Meanwhile, fired by her example, I turned out the contents of my pockets: a letter or two; a flat gold cigarette case; a match box; my watch, and a handkerchief: also in an outer pocket of my coat, a small bit of crumpled paper of which I had no recollection: but as one of the gendarmes politely picked it up from the floor, where it had fallen, and handed it to me without examining it, mechanically I slipped it back into the pocket, and thought no more of it at the time. There were too many other things to think of, and I was wondering what on earth Maxine could have done with the letter-case. She had had no more than two seconds in which to dispose of it, hardly enough, it seemed to me, to pa.s.s it from one hand to another, yet apparently it was well hidden.

”Now, are you satisfied?” she asked, ”Now that we have both shown you we have nothing to conceal; or would you like to take me to the police station, and have some dreadful female search me more thoroughly still?

I'll go with you, if you wish. I won't even he indiscreet enough to ask questions, since you seem inclined to do what we've no need to do--keep your own secrets. All I stipulate is, that if you care to take such measures you'll take them at once, for as you may possibly be aware, this is the first night of my new play, and I should be sorry to be late.”

The Commissary of Police looked fixedly at Maxine for a moment, as if he would read her soul.

”No, Mademoiselle,” he said, ”I am convinced that neither you nor Monsieur are concealing anything about your persons. I will not trouble you further until we have searched the room.”

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