Part 16 (1/2)
”I shall be glad to get out of this place. We were followed to the restaurant, I am certain, and I am equally certain that at the next table two police spies were seated, and these two shadowed us in a cab until we reached our blacksmith's shop. It is a humiliating confession to make, but somehow the atmosphere of this place has got on my nerves, and I shall be glad to turn my back on it. Jack pooh-poohs the idea that he is in any danger. Even the Governor of St. Petersburg, he says, dare not lay a finger on him, and as for the Chief of Police, he pours scorn on that powerful official. He scouts the idea that he is being watched, and all-in-all is quite humorous at my expense, saying that my state of mind is more fitting for a schoolgirl than for a stalwart man over six feet in height. One consolation is that Jack now has become as keen for America as I am. I expect that the interview arranged for me to-morrow with a great government official will settle my own business finally one way or another. A while ago I was confident of success, but the repeated delays have made me less optimistic now, although the gentle courtesy of those in high places remains undiminished.
”Dear Miss Amhurst, I cannot afford to fall lower in your estimation than perhaps I deserve, so I must say that this fear which has overcome me is all on account of my friend, and not on my own behalf at all. I am perfectly safe in Russia, being a British subject. My cold and formal Cousin Thaxted is a member of the British Emba.s.sy here, and my cold and formal uncle is a Cabinet Minister in England, facts which must be well known to these spy-informed people of St. Petersburg; so I am immune.
The worst they could do would be to order me out of the country, but even that is unthinkable. If any one attempted to interfere with me, I have only to act the hero of the penny novelette, draw myself up to my full height, which, as you know, is not that of a pigmy, fold my arms across my manly chest, cry, 'Ha, ha!' and sing 'Rule Britannia,'
whereupon the villains would wilt and withdraw. But Jack has no such security. He is a Russian subject, and, prince or commoner, the authorities here could do what they liked with him. I always think of things when it is too late to act. I wish I had urged Jack ash.o.r.e at Bar Harbor, and induced him to take the oath of allegiance to the United States. I spoke to him about that coming home in the carriage, and to my amazement he said he wished he had thought of it himself at the time we were over there.
”But enough of this. I daresay he is in no real danger after all.
Nevertheless, I shall induce him to pack to-morrow, and we will make for London together, so my next letter will bear a British stamp, and I a.s.sure you the air of England will taste good to one benighted Britisher whose name is Alan Drummond.”
CHAPTER X --CALAMITY UNSEEN
THE habit of industry practised from childhood to maturity is not obliterated by an unexpected shower of gold. Dorothy was an early riser, and one morning, entering the parlor from her room she saw, lying upon the table, a letter with a Russian stamp, but addressed in an unknown hand to her friend Katherine Kempt. She surmised that here was the first communication from the Prince, and expected to learn all about it during the luncheon hour at the latest. But the morning and afternoon pa.s.sed, and Katherine made no sign, which Dorothy thought was most unusual. All that day and the next Katherine went about silent, sedate and serious, never once quoting the humorous Mr. Gilbert. On the third morning Dorothy was surprised, emerging from her room, to see Katherine standing by the table, a black book in her hand. On the table lay a large package from New York, recently opened, displaying a number of volumes in what might be termed serious binding, leather or cloth, but none showing that high coloring which distinguishes the output of American fiction.
”Good-morning, Dorothy. The early bird is after the worm of science.”
She held forth the volume in her hand. ”Steele's 'Fourteen-Weeks' Course in Chemistry,' an old book, but fascinatingly written. Dorothy,” she continued with a sigh, ”I want to talk seriously with you.”
”About chemistry?” asked Dorothy.
”About men,” said Katherine firmly, ”and, incidentally, about women.”
”An interesting subject, Kate, but you've got the wrong text-books. You should have had a parcel of novels instead.”
Dorothy seated herself, and Katherine followed her example, Steele's ”Fourteen-Weeks' Course” resting in her lap.
”Every man,” began Katherine, ”should have a guardian to protect him.”
”From women?”
”From all things that are deceptive, and not what they seem.”
”That sounds very sententious, Kate. What does it mean?”
”It means that man is a simpleton, easily taken in. He is too honest for crafty women, who delude him shamelessly.”
”Whom have you been deluding, Kate?”
”Dorothy, I am a sneak.”
Dorothy laughed.
”Indeed, Katherine, you are anything but that. You couldn't do a mean or ungenerous action if you tried your best.”
”You think, Dorothy, I could reform?” she asked, breathlessly, leaning forward.
”Reform? You don't need to reform. You are perfectly delightful as you are, and I know no man who is worthy of you. That's a woman's opinion; one who knows you well, and there is nothing dishonest about the opinion, either, in spite of your tirade against our s.e.x.”
”Dorothy, three days ago, be the same more or less, I received a letter from John Lamont.”