Part 22 (1/2)

We reach New York the 28th. Plan dinner for wedding party the night of the 30th. Invite ushers. Much love.

POLLY.

PRINCE BORIS TO POLLY

_New York, May._

The last days on the trip you speak little to me.

Yes I have played tricks and upset canoe but my love for you, that is excuse. Why do you refuse to see me? I can to you easily explain the pictures and the name Kosloff. If you intended to--what you call it?--throw me down, why have you and your Aunt so encourage me? I ask you that. Again I shall come to your door and you will grant me yet one conversation. Bah! I am not a fool!

A. D. TO POLLY

_Was.h.i.+ngton, May._

Your journal notes and letters, my beloved, are before me, and I have alternately boiled with rage at that Russian imposter, and grinned at the thought of your baffled relative. You did exactly right, your judgment was good and my faith in you complete. I am so glad you told me fully about all the suspicious circ.u.mstances regarding the Prince, _if_ he is a prince. How abominable of him to lay even a finger on you. I should like to throttle him!

I called at the Russian Emba.s.sy and asked a few questions regarding the creature, of course saying nothing that could possibly drag you into the affair. The Amba.s.sador was rather guarded, and said he knew very little about him. The Prince had been in Was.h.i.+ngton, he had not called at the Emba.s.sy, but it was known that he had dined more than once at the German Emba.s.sy. The Amba.s.sador's att.i.tude was curious and left me wondering if Boris might not be in the pay of some country other than Russia. But we shall see.

Something kept me from speaking about the counterfeit old Masters. And it was well, for on returning to the hotel, I found a letter from Peppi, anxiety in every line of it. Boris had taken some work to America to sell for him on commission--as copies, honestly, he a.s.sured Peppi, who believed him. But it was to be a secret, lest the Prince be known to have disgraced his n.o.ble blood by descending to trade. Now our artist is plainly worried and wants to be a.s.sured there is nothing underhanded being done. Mona Lisa has evidently revealed something, for she was intimate enough with Boris and clever enough to see he was up to some rascality. I wrote our poor friend to have no further dealings with the Russian; that was all I felt I could do. Nice friends we have had!

Now you have told me your troubles, you have relieved your mind and heart of all their anxieties, I hope. You can tell me anything in the world, and find me absolutely true, for I love you with every drop of blood in my body, and I would stake my soul on you.

Postscript: Have received your telegram. I will leave for New York tomorrow, the thirtieth. Have sent invitations to ushers. We shall meet at your house for dinner, and then at noon the next day your life will be in my own safe keeping.

POLLY MAKES A LAST ENTRY IN HER JOURNAL

_Early morning, May 31st._

There are only a few hours left before A. D. and I shall be married but I won't try to write a word about how wonderfully happy I am, for there is so much to put down! Something most extraordinary happened.

The Prince has been bothering me since we reached New York, by calling at the door and sending in the most imperative messages. But I refused flatly to see him, though Aunt maintained that he would explain everything to all of us in a perfectly satisfactory manner.

Poor Aunt, she's a dear, silly, old thing. I believe she's actually been in love with him all the time herself.

But yesterday, the thirtieth, Boris got the better of me. The butler announced that Sister Beatrice, a nun whom I had known in Rome, wished to see me. So naturally I told him to admit her, and in walked a black-robed figure. Imagine my surprise and anger when under the veil I saw the blue eyes of the Prince. He looked so like a naughty boy that before I knew it, I laughed.

All of a sudden he became intensely serious and said that he had really come to take me away, that he wors.h.i.+ped me, that he knew deep down I loved him, too, that we must take the steamer that evening--the Carpathia--he had reservations engaged--and that we could be married on the boat, and he had everything arranged.

I showed him at once that he had made a mistake and ordered him to go. An ugly vindictive look came over his face and then I realized how desperate he was. He asked me if I thought he was such a fool as to leave me in possession of certain information about himself; moreover he declared he had to have money, that he was at the end of his rope.

I replied that I was sorry but could not help him again, that I might have given him over to the officials on the train. Then he said sneeringly I had better go with him, if I put a value on--life, for instance, that he, a Russian, would stop at nothing. I rang the bell and when the butler appeared, Boris saw that he had failed, and said, ”You will regret this hour,” and went out. Aunt met him in the hall and after some whispered conversation, he departed. Later she left the house. Nor did she come back the entire evening. My exasperating relative! She had not planned to be at our dinner party, so I wasn't alarmed, though anything but jolly. Boris's uncanny threat was echoing in my ear amid all the joyousness and excitement and flowers, ringing of bells and arrival of telegrams of congratulation. When everybody had gone except A. D. and it was very late--we were sitting together in the parlor near the front door,--I heard footsteps, and thinking it must be Aunt returning, I peered out. There was a dark figure that darted hastily up the front steps, apparently left a package and ran swiftly down the street and out of sight. A premonition told me something was wrong and that we were in danger. A. D. dashed out to investigate.

”What's this?” he said, picking up a box in the vestibule. Inside was a ticking noise like an alarm clock.