The Moonlit Way Part 61

The telegram was signed with a string of letters and numerals.

Renoux glanced curiously at Barres, who had turned very red and was beginning to re-read the wireless.

When he finished, Renoux folded all the doc.u.ments and placed them in the breast pocket of his coat.

"Mon ami, Barres," he said pleasantly, "you and I have much yet to say to each other."

"In the meanwhile, let us wash the stains of combat from our persons.

What is the number of your collar?"

"Fifteen and a half."

"I can fit you out. The bathroom is this way, old top!"

XXI

THE WHITE BLACKBIRD

Refreshed by icy baths and clean linen, and now further fortified against the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune by a supper of cold fowl and Moselle, Captain Renoux and Garret Barres sat in the apartment of the former gentleman, gaily exchanging Latin Quarter reminiscences through the floating haze of their cigars.

But the conversation soon switched back toward the far more serious business which alone accounted for their being there together after many years. For, as the French officer had remarked, a good deal remained to be said between them. And Barres knew what he meant, and was deeply concerned at the prospect.

But Renoux approached the matter with careless good humour and by a leisurely, circuitous route, which polite p.u.s.s.y-footing was obviously to prepare Barres for impending trouble.

He began by referring to his mission in America, admitting very frankly that he was a modest link in the system of military and political intelligence maintained by all European countries in the domains of their neighbours.

"I might as well say so," he remarked, "because it's known to the representatives of enemy governments here as well as to your own Government, that some of us are here; and anybody can imagine why.

"And, in the course of my--studies," he said deliberately, while his clear eyes twinkled, "it has come to my knowledge, and to the knowledge of the French Amba.s.sador, that there is, in New York, a young woman who already has proven herself a dangerous enemy to my country."

"That is interesting, if true," said Barres, reddening to the temples.

"But it is even more interesting if it is not true.... And it isn't!"

"You think not?"

"I don't think anything about it, Renoux; I _know_."

"I am afraid you have been misled, Barres. And it is natural enough."

"Why?"

"Because," said Renoux serenely, "she is very beautiful, very clever, very young, very appealing.... Tell me, my friend, where did you meet her?"

Barres looked him in the eyes:

"Where did you learn that I had ever met her?"

"Through the ordinary channels which, if you will pardon me, I am not at liberty to discuss."

"All right. It is sufficient that you know I have met her. Now, where did I meet her?"

"I don't know," said Renoux candidly.

"How long have I known her then?"

"Possibly a few weeks. Our information is that your acquaintance with her is not of long duration."

"Wrong, my friend: I met her in France several years ago; I know her intimately."

"Yes, the intimacy has been reported," said Renoux, blandly. "But it doesn't take long, sometimes."

Barres reddened again and shook his head:

"You and your agents are all wrong, Renoux. So is your Government. Do you know what it's doing--what you and your agents are doing? You're playing a German game for Berlin!"

This time Renoux flushed and there was a slight quiver to his lips and nostrils; but he said very pleasantly:

"That would be rather mortifying, mon ami, if it were true."

"It is true. Berlin, the traitor in Paris, the conspirator in America, the German, Austrian, and Turkish diplomatic agents here ask nothing better than that you manage, somehow, to eliminate the person in question."

"Why?" demanded Renoux.

"Because more than one of your public men in Paris will face charges of conspiracy and treason if the person in question ever has a fair hearing and a chance to prove her innocence of the terrible accusations that have been made against her."

"Naturally," said Renoux, "those accused bring counter charges. It is always the history of such cases, mon ami."

"Your mind is already made up, then?"

"My mind is a real mind, Barres. Reason is what it seeks--the logical evidence that leads to truth. If there is anything I don't know, then I wish to know it, and will spare no pains, permit no prejudice to warp my judgment."

"All right. Now, let's have the thing out between us, Renoux. We are not fencing in the dark; we understand each other and are honest enough to say so. Now, go on."

Renoux nodded and said very quietly and pleasantly:

"The reference in one of these papers to the celebrated Nihla Quellen reminds me of the first time I ever saw her. I was quite bowled over, Barres, as you may easily imagine. She sang one of those Asiatic songs--and then the dance!--a miracle!--a delight--apparently entirely unprepared, unpremeditated even--you know how she did it?--exquisite perfection--something charmingly impulsive and spontaneous--a caprice of the moment! Ah--there is a wonderful artiste, Nihla Quellen!"

Barres nodded, his level gaze fixed on the French officer.

"As for the doc.u.ment," continued Renoux, "it does not entirely explain itself to me. You see, this Eurasian, Ferez Bey, was a very intimate friend of Nihla Quellen."

"You are quite mistaken," interposed Barres. But the other merely smiled with a slight gesture of deference to his friend's opinion, and went on.

"This Ferez is one of those persistent, annoying flies which buzz around chancelleries and stir up diplomats to pernicious activities.