Part 7 (2/2)

”Anybody of interest here?”

I winked knowingly. Possibly it pleased the courier to have someone to chuckle over a secret. All my oars were in.

”At the Grand Hotel de Londres,” he said slyly, ”there is a gentleman who does not fool me.”

I offered him another cigarette, helped him to another gla.s.s of wine.

”He is registered there as Count Techlow, but he can't fool me. He is the Prince Galitzin.”

”What's he doing; gambling a lot?” (I knew he wasn't.)

”No,” replied the courier, ”he's keeping pretty quiet.”

”Is there a Countess Techlow?”

The courier shook his head. _Buenno!_ The coast seemed clear. I knew it was extremely awkward and often dangerous to tempt the quarry away from a demi-mondaine, especially at Monte Carlo. After chatting some more I bid the courier good night. I would see the Countess the first thing in the morning.

Along toward noon I called at the Nouvel Hotel Louvre where von Wedel had told me I would find Countess Chechany. I sent in my own card bearing the name of H. Van Huit, Doorn Kloof, Transvaal (the reader will recall my experience at Doorn Kloof); also von Wedel's card with his signature.

I had to wait for some time, but finally the Countess received me in her boudoir. She was in bewitching negligee. From the photograph I was prepared to find a very handsome woman, but shades of Helen! This was Venus, Juno and Minerva--the whole Greek and any other G.o.ddesses rolled into one! Tall and willowy, superb of figure, great dark-blue eyes, ma.s.ses of blue-black wavy hair, full red lips forming a perfect Cupid's bow. But why go on--I might get too enthusiastic, and mislead the reader. After my adventure I never saw the Countess again.

I knew that by birth the Colmtess Chechany was a high Hungarian n.o.blewoman. By marriage she was related to the Counts of Tolna Festetics, a leading house in Hungary. Also, she was one of those marvelously beautiful women peculiar to that country. Waving a small jeweled hand, she begged me to take a chair beside her. A cigarette was daintily poised in her fingers.

”Be seated, Mr. Van Huit of Transvaal,” gazing at me with a roguish grin.

We both burst out laughing. Of course she knew what I was. Von Wedel's card showed her that. But, as her next words plainly showed, she knew a great deal more.

”I've got a badly sprained ankle, Doctor. Can you do anything for me?”

I must have shown a pretty stupid face, for she laughed amusedly again. I certainly was surprised, for up to now I had never met her, and my being a doctor was known only to one or two persons in the Service. Besides, it is strictly a rule of the Imperial Secret Service never to discuss or divulge personal matters. Her att.i.tude by no means pleased me. I cordially hate anyone, especially women, knowing more than I do. One never knows where one is standing in a case like this. I decided not to show my curiosity, but I was determined to learn how she knew about me. Coolly I said:

”Well, Countess, you have somewhat of an advantage. But if I can be of any a.s.sistance to you, pray command me.”

As answer, she sprang up, and pirouetting around the room, exclaimed:

”Now, why be peevish. If you're good and nice, I shall tell you sometime all about it.”

She never did, for with all her ingenuous mannerisms, my lady was about the deepest and least fathomable bit of femininity I have ever met--besides being the possessor of a devil of a temper. After some more banter, which I instigated to become somewhat acquainted with my prospective partner, I came to business.

”Do you know, Countess, the object of my mission?”

”Nothing beyond the intimation of your coming and the command to cooperate with you if necessary. So you had better enlighten me, mon chere.”

I did so with some reservation, it being my habit not to let anyone into a thing too much, least of all a woman. I suggested that our first object was to make Prince Galitzin's acquaintance. As his Serene Highness resided at the Hotel de Londres, we agreed to dine there. After accepting a dainty cup of chocolate I departed, purposely returning home by way of the Londres. Here, with a little diplomacy, I managed to reserve for dinner the table I wanted, one next to the Prince. Well pleased, I later dressed, armed myself with a bouquet of La France roses, and called on my partner.

I had the roses sent up and waited. The Countess sent word that she would be down shortly. I smoked three cigarettes. Still no Countess.

I have yet to meet a woman who could or would be punctual. Finally I heard the soft swish and frou-frou of silk garments and looking up saw her ladys.h.i.+p coming down the grand stairway. She was brilliantly robed, jewels flashed at her neck and wrists. She was of that type of beauty difficult to cla.s.sify, although a.s.sured of approval in any quarter of the world.

”Tired of waiting, mon ami?” tapping me playfully on the arm. ”See, in return for your patience I am wearing your roses.”

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