The Island Mystery Part 13

Kalliope smiled quietly. She showed no signs of embarra.s.sment. She did not pretend to be looking in any other direction. She had been kissed herself more than once by her own lover, and had found it pleasant. It did not strike her as in any way odd that the Queen should like kisses too.

"Help me down, quick," said the Queen.

She did not wait for the help she asked. Disdaining even the foothold of the tap she slid over the edge of the tank and came down with a crash on the rolling stones at Kalliope's feet. Phillips followed her with a single bound.

Kalliope pointed with her finger to a boat, another boat, which had just grounded on the beach. Stephanos the Elder stepped from it and bowed low to the Queen, bowed so low that his long beard almost touched the ground.

"Well, I'm blest!" said Phillips.

"My!" said the Queen, "isn't it lucky I saw Kalliope just when I did?

Fancy if that old fellow had caught us! I don't so much mind about Kalliope, though of course it was awful. But I never could have looked the old man in the face if he had seen us."

Later on, while they sat at luncheon on the sand of a little cove near the entrance of the cave, the Queen suddenly burst into a peal of merry laughter.

"Say," she said, "he stalked us rather better than we stalked him yesterday, didn't he?"

Next day the _Ida_, with Phillips on board, set sail for England.

CHAPTER XII

"GRAND HOTEL DES CHAMPS D'eLYSeES, PARIS, _June 4, 1914_.

"My dear Gorman,--

"I arrive at the excellent Beaufort's Hotel the day after to-morrow. I hope that you will dine with me that evening at 8 p.m. There are matters of importance. Corinne accompanies me. She is adorable as ever, in good form and full of peas.

We have had a time of a life, rattling, since I saw you.

Now--alas and d.a.m.n--there are matters of importance. The Emperor--but I can write no more--Corinne awaits me. We go to paint Paris blue, she and I, once again. Then--d.a.m.n and alas--London and the virtuous life of your English middling cla.s.s.

"KONRAD KARL."

Gorman did not hesitate for a moment. He made up his mind to accept the invitation even if he had to miss the most important division which Parliament enjoyed during its whole session. The prospect of seeing Konrad Karl and Madame Ypsilante practising middle-cla.s.s virtue in Beaufort's Hotel was by itself sufficiently attractive. The promise of important affairs for discussion was another lure. Gorman loves important affairs, especially those of other people. But the mention of the Emperor interested him most. The introduction of his name made it certain that the important affairs were those of Salissa.

And Gorman had always been anxious to understand in what way the Emperor was mixed up with Megalia and how he came to exercise an influence over that independent state.

Gorman was dressing for dinner--was, in fact, b.u.t.toning his collar--when his landlord entered his room and handed him a card.

Gorman looked at it.

"FRIEDRICH GOLDSTURMER, _Dealer in Jewels and Precious Stones, Old Bond Street._"

Written across the corner of the card were the words: "Business important and urgent."

Gorman glanced at his watch. He had no time to spare if he meant to be at Beaufort's at eight. Punctuality was no doubt one of the middle-cla.s.s virtues which the King and Madame Ypsilante were at that moment practising. Gorman hesitated. The landlord, who had once been a butler, stood waiting.

"Tell him," said Gorman, "to call to-morrow at eleven."

"Beg pardon, sir," said the landlord, "but the gentleman says his business is most pressing."

Gorman reflected. If Goldsturmer had given the landlord five s.h.i.+llings--and this seemed likely--the business must be very pressing indeed; and King Konrad Karl could not yet have become an absolute slave to the virtue of punctuality.

"Show him in here," said Gorman; "that will save time."

Goldsturmer slipped into the room and stood meekly near the door.

"Sit down," said Gorman. "Sit on the bed if you can't find a chair, and tell me what you want with me, as quickly as you can."

"It's very kind of you," said Goldsturmer, "to receive me at this hour. Nothing but the very pressing nature of my business--but I will get to the point. You will doubtless remember a certain rope of pearls. Let me see, it must have been in March----"

"I don't remember any rope of pearls," said Gorman. "I take no interest in pearls."

"No? Still I hoped you might recollect those pearls. They were the finest I ever had in my hands."

Goldsturmer spoke in a tone of pained regret. It seemed to him a sad thing that there should be any man in the world who took no interest in pearls.

"Madame Ypsilante bought them," said Goldsturmer.

"There's no use coming to me," said Gorman, "if you've failed to get your money. I've nothing to do with the lady."

Goldsturmer smiled.

"She paid," he said. "Otherwise she would not have got the pearls.

There was another lady who might have bought them, an American, a Miss Donovan."

"But Madame got them," said Gorman.

"Yes. But perhaps Miss Donovan might have them now, through me, at the original price."

Gorman began to be interested.

"Madame tired of them?" he asked. "Wants to sell?"

"Tired of them!" said Goldsturmer. "No. For any one who loves pearls that would be impossible. But desires to sell. Yes."

"Well," said Gorman. "That's her affair and yours. I don't see that I have anything to do with it."

"Before I agree to buy," said Goldsturmer, "I should like to be sure that the American lady, Miss Donovan, still wishes for the pearls. I do not want to lock up my capital. I cannot afford to lock up so large a sum. I must be a.s.sured of a purchaser before I buy from Madame Ypsilante. It is not every one who can pay for such pearls. Ah! if you had seen them! They are suited for the wearing of a queen. Only a queen should have them."

Miss Donovan was, of course, a queen. Gorman wondered whether Goldsturmer knew that. He looked at the little Jew sharply.

Goldsturmer's face wore a far-away dreamy expression. He seemed to be thinking of his pearls draped round the neck of an Empress, a Czarina or some other lady of very high estate who would wear them worthily.

"Only a queen," he murmured, "should wear those pearls."

"Madame Ypsilante is the next best thing to a queen," said Gorman.

A faint smile flickered across Goldsturmer's mouth.

"I would rather," he said, "that a real queen, a queen by right of law, wore them. Tell me, Mr. Gorman, is Miss Donovan still willing to buy them?"