Part 20 (1/2)

He regarded her intently. His look held hers. It would seem as though he tried to read the depths of her soul; as though he was asking if what had once proved so false could in the end prove true; for it came to him with sudden force, with sure conviction, that she could help him as no one else could; that at this critical moment, when he was trembling between success and failure, her secret influence might be the one reinforcement necessary to conduct him to victory. Greater and better men than himself had used women to further their vast purposes; could one despise any human agency, so long as it was not dishonourable, in the carrying out of great schemes?

It was for Britain--for her ultimate good, for the honour and glory of the Empire, for the betterment of the position of all men of his race in all the world, their prestige, their prosperity, their patriotism; and no agency should be despised. He knew so well what powers of intrigue had been used against him, by the emba.s.sy of Slavonia and those of other countries. His own methods had been simple and direct; only the scheme itself being intricate, complicated, and reaching further than any diplomatist, except his own Prime Minister, had dreamed. If carried, it would recast the international position in the Orient, necessitating new adjustments in Europe, with cession of territory and gifts for gifts in the way of commercial treaties and the settlement of outstanding difficulties.

His key, if it could be made to turn in the lock, would open the door to possibilities of prodigious consequence.

He had been three years at work, and the end must come soon. The crisis was near. A game can only be played for a given time, then it works itself out, and a new one must take its place. His top was spinning hard, but already the force of the gyration was failing, and he must presently make his exit with what the Prime Minister called his Patent, or turn the key in the lock and enter upon his kingdom. In three months--in two months--in one month--it might be too late, for war was coming; and war would destroy his plans, if they were not fulfilled now. Everything must be done before war came, or be forever abandoned.

This beautiful being before him could help him. She had brains, she was skilful, inventive, supple, ardent, yet intellectually discreet. She had as much as told him that the amba.s.sador of Moravia had paid her the compliment of admiring her with some ardour. It would not grieve him to see her make a fool and a tool of the impressionable yet adroit diplomatist, whose vanity was matched by his unreliability, and who had a pa.s.sion for philandering--unlike Count Landra.s.sy, who had no inclination to philander, who carried his citadels by direct attack in great force. Yes, Jasmine could help him, and, as in the dead years when it seemed that she would be the courier star of his existence, they understood each other without words.

”It is so,” he said at last, in a low voice, his eyes still regarding her with almost painful intensity.

”Do you trust me--now--again?” she asked, a tremor in her voice and her small hand clasping ever and ever tighter the fingers of the lad, whose eyes watched her with such dog-like adoration.

A mournful smile stole to his lips--and stayed. ”Come where we can be quiet and I will tell you all,” he said. ”You can help me, maybe.”

”I will help you,” she said, firmly, as the nurse entered the room again and, approaching the bed, said, ”I think he ought to sleep now”; and forthwith proceeded to make Jigger comfortable.

When Stafford bade Jigger good-bye, the lad said: ”I wish I could 'ear the singing to-night, y'r gryce. I mean the primmer donner. Lou says she's a fair wonder.”

”We will open your window,” Jasmine said, gently. ”The ball-room is just across the quadrangle, and you will be able to hear perfectly.”

”Thank you, me lydy,” he answered, gratefully, and his eyes closed.

”Come,” said Jasmine to Stafford. ”I will take you where we can talk undisturbed.”

They pa.s.sed out, and both were silent as they threaded the corridors and hallways; but in Jasmine's face was a light of exaltation and of secret triumph.

”We must give Jigger a good start in life,” she said, softly, as they entered her sitting-room. Jigger had broken down many barriers between her and the man who, a week ago, had been eternities distant from her.

”He's worth a lot of thought,” Ian answered, as the pleasant room enveloped him, and they seated themselves on a big couch before the fire.

Again there was a long silence; then, not looking at her, but gazing into the fire, Ian Stafford slowly unfolded the wide and wonderful enterprise of diplomacy in which his genius was employed. She listened with strained attention, but without moving. Her eyes were fixed on his face, and once, as the proposed meaning of the scheme was made dear by the turn of one illuminating phrase, she gave a low exclamation of wonder and delight. That was all until, at last, turning to her as though from some vision that had chained him, he saw the glow in her eyes, the profound interest, which was like the pa.s.sion of a spirit moved to heroic undertaking. Once again it was as in the years gone by--he trusted her, in spite of himself; in spite of himself he had now given his very life into her hands, was making her privy to great designs which belonged to the inner chambers of the chancelleries of Europe.

Almost timorously, as it seemed, she put out her hand and touched his shoulder. ”It is wonderful--wonderful,” she said. ”I can, I will help you. Will let you let me win back your trust--Ian?”

”I want your help, Jasmine,” he replied, and stood up. ”It is the last turn of the wheel. It may be life or death to me professionally.”

”It shall be life,” she said, softly.

He turned slowly from her and went towards the door.

”Shall we not go for a walk,” she intervened--”before I drive to the station for Al'mah?”

He nodded, and a moment afterward they were pa.s.sing along the corridors. Suddenly, as they pa.s.sed a window, Ian stopped. ”I thought Mr. Mappin went with the others to the Glen?” he said.

”He did,” was the reply.

”Who is that leaving his room?” he continued, as she followed his glance across the quadrangle. ”Surely, it's Fellowes,” he added.

”Yes, it looked like Mr. Fellowes,” she said, with a slight frown of wonder.