The Mischief-Maker Part 16

"Absolutely," he said. "The little I know of the person with whom you seem to be spending the evening makes me feel more inclined to pitch him into the river than to make his acquaintance. As a matter of fact, Foster, I don't know, of course, under what instructions you are acting over here, but I should not have considered him exactly a companion for you."

Foster started. A new fear had suddenly broken in upon him.

"I am doing my best to carry out instructions, sir," he declared. "I do not understand why you should take so prejudiced a view of my friend."

"It is, perhaps," Julien replied, "because I know more about him than you seem to. Good night!"

They walked slowly back to the gardens. The woman was thoughtful.

"I am sorry," she said, "that those people came along to spoil our first evening together. I am glad, though, that you refused to meet the German. All that he would have done would have been to try and fill your mind with suspicions of me. Haven't you found me harmless?"

"I am not sure," he answered.

She laughed softly.

"Ah, me!" she exclaimed, "I gave you an opening, didn't I, and one must remember that of late years the men of your nation have established a reputation over here for gallantry. Harmless, at least, so far as regards tearing political secrets from your bosom?"

"As a matter of fact," Julien remarked, "there are not so many secrets between France and England, are there?"

"Thanks in some measure to you," she reminded him. "You take it for granted, I notice, that I am a Frenchwoman."

He looked at her in great surprise.

"Why, indeed, yes! Is there any doubt about it?"

"My mother was an American," she told him.

"Tell me your real name?" he asked suddenly.

"On the contrary, I am going to beg you not to try and discover it. Let us remain as we are for a little time. You are lonely here and you need companions.h.i.+p, and I am very much in the same position. You are a hater of women and I have sworn eternal enmity against all men. We are so safe, and solitude is bad for us."

He smiled.

"You are very kind," he said, "but as for me, I am only starting my wanderings. I want to go on through Algiers to Morocco, to Egypt, and later to the east. I never meant to stay long in Paris."

"I do not blame you," she declared. "Sooner or later you must find your way where the battle is. Paris is not a city for men. One loiters here for a time, but one pa.s.ses on always. Never mind, while you stay here I shall claim you."

They drove back to Paris through the perfumed stillness of the long spring night. Madame had instructed her chauffeur to drive slowly, and more than one automobile rushed past them, with flaring lights and sounding horn. In one they caught a glimpse of Foster and his companion, whispering together as they raced by. Madame half closed her eyes with a little s.h.i.+ver.

"Those men again!" she exclaimed, "They say that Estermen never abandons a chase. You may still find him waiting for you in your hotel!"

CHAPTER XI

THE TOYMAKER FROM LEIPZIG

In the front row of balcony tables at the Cafe des Amba.s.sadeurs was one which had been transformed into a veritable bower of pink roses. The florists had been at work upon it since early in the afternoon, and their labors were only just concluded as the guests of the restaurant were beginning to arrive. Henri, the chief _maitre d'hotel_, had personally superintended its construction. He stood looking at the result of their labors now with a well-satisfied aspect.

"But it is perfect," he declared. "The orders of Monsieur Freudenberg have indeed been delightfully carried out. You will present the account as usual, mademoiselle," he directed the florist, who in her black frock, a little hot and flushed with her labors, was standing by his side. "Remember monsieur is well able to pay."

"It is, perhaps, a prince who dines in such state?" the girl inquired.

The _maitre d'hotel_ smiled.

"It is, on the contrary," he told her, "a maker of toys from Germany."

She made a little grimace.

"And to think that my back aches, that I have p.r.i.c.ked myself so," she exclaimed, showing the scarred tips of her fingers, "for the sake of a toymaker from Germany! But it is not like you, Henri, to disturb yourself so for anything less than a prince."

Henri, who was a sleek and handsome man, with black moustache and imperial, shook his head sadly.

"Ah! mademoiselle," he said, "when you have lived as long as I, you will know that the times indeed have changed. It is no longer the princes of the world to whom one gives one's best service. It is those who carry the heaviest money bags who command it."

"Well, well," she replied, "that is perhaps true. Yet in our little shop in the Rue de la Paix we do not always find that it is those with the heaviest money bags who pay us most generously for our flowers. I would sooner serve a bankrupt aristocrat than a wealthy shopkeeper. If they pay at all, these aristocrats, they pay well."

Henri stretched out his hands.

"Mademoiselle, there are shopkeepers who are also princes. My client of this evening is one of those. Behold, he comes! Pardon!"

The man for whom these great preparations had been made stood in the entrance of the restaurant, waiting for the woman who was giving her cloak to the _vestiaire_. He was tall and thin, dressed rather severely, with a black tie and short coat, a monocle which hung from his neck with a black ribbon. His face was unusually long, his eyes deep-set, his mouth set firm on a somewhat protuberant jaw, with lines at the corners which somehow suggested humor. When he saw Henri he nodded.

"Once more, Henri," he remarked, with a little smile, "once more in my beloved Paris!"

"Monsieur is always welcome," Henri declared, bowing to the ground.

"Paris is the gayer for his coming."

"You are indeed a nation of courtiers!" Herr Carl Freudenberg exclaimed. "What German _Oberkellner_ would have thought of a speech like that to a Frenchman finding himself in Berlin! Ah! Henri, you try, all of you, to spoil me here. Is it not so, mademoiselle?" he added, turning with a bow and a smile to the girl who stood now by his side.

"Henri here speaks honied words to me always. The wonder to me is that I am ever able to tear myself away from this city of fascination."

"If we could keep monsieur," the girl murmured, smiling at Henri, "I think that we should all be very well content."

Herr Freudenberg made a little grimace.

"But my toys!" he cried. "Who is there in Germany could make such toys as I and my factory people? The world would be sad indeed--the world of children, I mean--if my factory were to close down or my designers should lose their cunning."

"Is it the greatest ambition of monsieur," the girl asked, "to amuse and make happy the world of children? Have not the world of grown people some claims?"

"Monsieur will, I trust, and madame," Henri declared, as they moved slowly forward, "find much to admire in the table which has been prepared for them this evening. It is by the orders of monsieur so enclosed that here one may talk without fear of observation. And the perfume of these roses, every one of which has been selected, is a wonderful thing. It is indeed a work of art."

Herr Freudenberg turned deliberately on one side where the little flower girl was still lingering.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "something tells me that it is you whom we have to thank for this adorable creation. It is indeed a work of supreme art. If mademoiselle would permit!"