Читать книгу The Strangers' Gate - E. Phillips Oppenheim - Страница 7
CHAPTER V
ОглавлениеAt a few minutes past ten the music stopped and Beverley rose to his feet with unconscious eagerness. He had scarcely taken a step from his chair, however, before he paused. A man who had been seated at an opposite table had anticipated him and intercepted Marya’s approach. They stood together talking in the centre of the place. He pointed to his table. The girl shook her head but continued the conversation. Beverley eyed her companion, who was certainly not an attractive personality, with something approaching disgust. He was a tall, thin man of indefinite age, with rather prominent teeth, a pallid complexion and eyes set very near together. He was in formal evening dress, but his clothes were ill-fitting and he was apparently greatly disturbed. He held in his hand thick-lensed spectacles which he had removed upon addressing Marya. Finally she turned away from him. He made a movement as though to clutch her arm. At the last moment, however, he lost his courage. He returned unwillingly to his table and she made her way towards Beverley, who was standing prepared to greet her.
“I have not made you wait?” she asked.
“Not at all,” he answered. “I see that you have found a friend.”
“That was not a friend,” she confided. “It is my brother whom he knows. That was Mr. Treyer. He was at your meeting this afternoon. He is a German who knows all about bauxite.”
“Rat!” Beverley muttered.
“You do not like him?” she queried. “My brother thinks he is a nice man.”
The waiter held her chair and Beverley seated himself opposite to her.
“What was he doing at the meeting?” he demanded.
“He did not exactly tell me,” she replied, “but I think that it is quite easy to know. He is wondering whether you have heard of my brother’s discovery. He was very anxious to hear if you and I were going to talk about bauxite.”
“Does he know who I am?”
“Oh yes, he knows very well who you are. That is why he was so disturbed. He did not like it that I come and talk with you. I tell him what has happened to my brother and he was angry. He thought that Rudolph was working for him.”
The waiter approached the table with dishes.
“You have a very light supper,” Beverley warned her. “Quails and a little asparagus. I did not care for my chicken—I was not hungry then. Now that you have come I have found my appetite. I shall join you, if I may.”
“It is very good manners of you,” she acknowledged, “that you will not let me eat alone. You have chosen just what I like. I am hungry. May I drink some wine?”
The waiter filled their glasses. Beverley said nothing for several moments. He found it a difficult situation.
“You do not talk much,” she remarked.
“It is because I have too much to say,” he answered. “Now that you have noticed it I shall begin. First of all, then, it is understood that I apologise most heartily for my rudeness this morning.”
“That is forgotten.”
“I am very interested in that piece of rock which you have brought over to England and which you say that your brother found somewhere in Orlac. I should like to know exactly where it came from. I have telegraphed my expert there to make further investigations immediately.”
“You have changed your mind, then,” she said. “You do believe me now. It is a little late.”
“What do you mean by a little late?”
“I have sent a letter to my brother. I have told him that you think the piece of rock is a cheat. I wrote to Mr. Treyer. That is why he is here to-night. It was what my brother had told me.”
“You didn’t give me much time to change my mind, did you?” he remarked.
“You did seem to me,” she replied, “like a man who would be very unlikely to change his mind.”
“So that long bounder to whom you were talking just now is Mr. Treyer, the German agent?”
“It is a difficult language, English,” she sighed. “ ‘Bounder’ is a word I do not understand. It was Mr. Treyer with whom I was speaking. He came here purposely to see me.”
Beverley glanced across the room to where the solitary man was glowering at them.
“If you will take my advice,” he said earnestly, “you will have nothing to do with Mr. Treyer. He will cheat you if he can. I am sure of it.”
She looked at him for a moment steadfastly out of the unfathomable depths of her deep hazel eyes.
“You mean that if I tell him where my brother found this piece of rock he will buy the land and then he will not pay us anything?”
“Something like that.”
“And with you it would be different? You and Lord Portington would be honest? You would pay all that you promised?”
“Precisely,” he admitted. “That is the difference between my company and Treyer. We should pay. He would not. We are honest. He is a rogue.”
“The quail,” she said with apparent irrelevance, “is good. I enjoy him.”
“Delighted,” he murmured, filling her glass.
“But Mr. Treyer is very angry,” she went on. “He looked as though he was going to bite me. He invited me to have supper with him. He has pencil and paper in his pocket. He would like me to sketch the place where my brother found this little piece of rock and put in the name.”
“You can’t do that,” he told her.
“Why can I not?”
“Because if you make that sketch at all you will make it on the back of this menu card and write the name of the place where it was found.”
“You will give me money if I do that?”
“A great deal,” he assured her. “Much more than that piece of rock is worth, probably.”
“You have changed your mind, then? You trust me now?”
“I would not put it like that,” he complained. “I had no time to decide in the office. Since then I have made up my mind. I believe your story.”
“All this,” she confessed as she ate her quail and sipped her wine delicately, “is very interesting.”
“Is it true what Lord Portington told me, that you are only eighteen and a half?”
She looked at him curiously. Beverley’s features were excellent, even if his chin indicated a certain measure of pugnacity. His blue eyes were pleasantly clear and lit occasionally by a gleam of humour. His mouth was resolute but not emotional. It was, on the whole, an attractive countenance.
“It is quite true,” she replied. “Why do you ask me? Is it of interest?”
“Distinctly.”
“Why?”
“Because you are far too young to be playing in a restaurant orchestra, to be entrusted with a dangerous and important secret, and to be wandering about in a strange city by yourself.”
“It is not the affair of others what I do,” she said coldly.
“It is the affair of anyone who takes an interest in you,” he rejoined.
“Do you take an interest in me?” she asked, looking across the table at him.
He hesitated for a moment. There was not a shred of coquetry or provocativeness in the question. There was very little curiosity.
“I did not when I first saw you,” he confessed. “I do now.”
“I wonder,” she murmured. “I am not beautiful. I play the violin in a queer fashion of my own, perhaps. Or is it that that fragment of rock and its history mean so much to you?”
“It certainly is not the streak of bauxite in your fragment of rock,” he assured her. “Many things would have to happen before that could become of vital importance to us. The claim to the land with instructions where it was found would have to be proved. Concessions would have to be arranged, machinery for the mine would have to be obtained. You have only Mr. Treyer and myself who might be interested and I am perfectly certain that you would not trust Mr. Treyer.”
“You are quite wrong in what you say,” she assured him. “Besides yourself and Mr. Treyer there is also Predor Pravadia.”
“Who is the person with that extraordinary name?” he asked.
“He is the leader of the communist party in Orlac.”
“I don’t like his name,” Beverley observed.
She shrugged her shoulders slightly.
“He was born with it. His father was what you call in English a ‘blacksmith.’ ”
“If you thought he could do anything about it why did you not see him before you left your country?”
“Because,” she admitted calmly, “he refused to see me. He thought, I suppose, that I had come to beg. The last members of my family were always begging from the Government. Then, you see, there was my brother in prison. He might have thought that I came to beg for his release. It was not interesting for him to see me.”
“What about Lavaroko? I thought that he was the head of your Government when you left Orlac.”
“He was,” she acknowledged, “but he was what you call a ‘falling star.’ He had lost the confidence of the people. He could have done nothing. Of course there is the King,” she continued doubtfully. “I could have gone direct to him.”
“And why didn’t you?”
She helped herself to asparagus and beurre fondu which the maître d’hôtel was tendering, and watched while her glass was refilled. It was quite an appreciable period of time before she replied.
“That,” she said, “does not concern you. The King is in Paris. I could have gone there, but I came to you instead. And now please ask me no more questions. You annoy me with so many. What I choose to tell, I tell. It is myself who decides.”
“For a young lady of eighteen and a half years you have a will of your own,” he observed.
Her eyebrows, very attractive and silky upon her pearly skin, were gently raised.
“My age, also,” she reminded him, “is my own affair.”
“You are very independent,” he said smiling.
“It is not I who am independent,” she rejoined. “It is you who ask too many questions. I know that I have seen very little of the world,” she went on gravely. “Perhaps for that reason I think the more. You are not very old yourself. If it were Lord Portington, for instance, I would not dare to say so much. But it would seem to me that when you think of yourself you think of yourself as the most important thing in the world. Other people only interest you so far as they can help or keep you back. You are honest,” she continued, after a moment’s reflection. “It is, I should think, your best quality. I could tell directly I came into your office that you did not like me. I could tell just now, directly you looked across the room when I was talking to Mr. Treyer, that you did not like him.”
He smiled.
“Who could possibly like a fellow like Treyer?”
“Why not?” she enquired. “He likes me. He tells me so already.”
“Infernal cheek!”
“What does that mean?” she asked, puzzled.
“Never mind. I will answer your question. Look at the fellow. Teeth sticking out—that always means something unpleasant; eyes looking into each other—that means cunning; he can’t even sit still in his chair—that means lack of self-control. Not an atom of good taste about him, either, although he says he does like you. He comes to dine in the Grill Room in dress coat and white tie, and the coat itself is far too long for him—the sort of garment affected by the French gigolo! And the white tie I’d swear has seen service before. Oh, he’s all wrong, believe me, Princess Marya of Mauranesco. You can’t possibly sell your little piece of rock to him.”
Almost for the first time he saw her smile. It was a gesture which never fully developed but which changed her whole expression. His reaction to it was prompt and spontaneous. A humorous light shone in his eyes, his mouth relaxed. He leaned a little towards her. Both, at that moment, were secretly conscious of the passing of that thin barrier of mutual antagonism.
“The poor man!” she murmured. “I did notice that his coat was funny. I like yours better and your red carnation is becoming.”
The personal feeling in her harmless remark seemed to change the whole atmosphere. He drew his flower a little further into its place.
“Now that you have praised my small effort at adornment,” he said, and all the stiffness had gone from his tone, “I can tell you how much I admire your own lack of it.”
She glanced at her wrists and fingers.
“Jewellery I do not possess,” she confided, “except some rings which were my grandmother’s and which Sister Georgina keeps for me at the convent. If ever I marry I shall wear them. If I die they will be sold for the poor. It is a quaint thing,” she went on, “that I like you much better now that you have smiled. It is quaint, too, that it should have been because of Mr. Treyer, because I do not think he likes you very much.”
“Loathes me,” he assured her. “He worked hard to get the concession that my company holds and they tell me that he is always hanging about the German Consulate at Klast. I suppose he thinks that if these European complications develop and Orlac takes sides, there may be a chance for him to make trouble.”
“He warned me against you,” she confided.
“Do not believe a word he said,” Beverley begged, with a return of the twinkle in his eyes. “I’m really not so bad.”
“It was not only you, it was your company. He said you were what he called ‘sharks.’ What does ‘sharks’ mean?”
“It means ‘over-keen.’ Practically dishonest,” he explained.
“That is right. He told me that you got your concession that way.”
This time Beverley’s was a perfectly human grin.
“Envious old fox,” he observed. “He tried to be too clever and we beat him at it.”
“More words that I do not understand,” she complained. “May I have some coffee, please? In ten minutes I must return.”
“May I drive you home afterwards?” he suggested when he had given the order to a waiter.
She shook her head. He liked to think it was a slightly reluctant gesture.
“Please no,” she begged. “My old nurse, Suka, who lives with me, always calls for me. It is best like that, please.”
He was curiously disappointed but he recognised a certain inflexibility in her tone and manner which he made no attempt to combat.
“Very well,” he agreed. “Will you give me your address? And within a week I will ask you to meet me. By that time I will give you a definite answer to send to your brother.”
She scribbled on the piece of paper which he handed to her.
“You want my piece of rock?” she asked as she returned it.
He shook his head.
“I do not even ask you for the sketch, the little map of the place it was found,” he replied. “All I would ask you is to keep away from that wretched fellow Treyer.”
She laughed quietly as she rose to her feet.
“It will be very difficult. He is like a crazy man about my piece of rock.”
“Don’t trust him a yard,” he begged, walking with her towards the dais.
“I think,” she said quietly in a tone which was still emotionless but very soft and pleasant to listen to, “I shall believe nothing he says. I am beginning to feel more kindness about you. I will trust you, if you wish, with my piece of rock.”
Again he shook his head.
“Keep it to yourself,” he advised, as he turned away from the platform with a little bow of farewell.
Beverley, with those restless, unpleasant eyes watching him from the other side of the room, sent for his bill a few minutes after Marya had left him. Treyer did not hesitate for a moment. He crossed the floor and stood before Beverley’s table. He spoke English fluently but with a thick guttural accent.
“I believe,” he said, “you know who I am. You are Mr. Nigel Beverley of the Klast Mine?”
“I am,” Beverley acknowledged.
“With your permission I will join you for a short time.”
“I regret very much but I am on the point of leaving,” was the cool reply.
“It is a matter of business which I wish to discuss with you,” Treyer insisted doggedly.
“It must be another time, then, if at all. I am quite unaware of there being any business which we could discuss.”
Mr. Treyer drew himself up to his full height, which was very considerable, for he was a long and lanky person. He withdrew his glasses, blinked for a moment and continued.
“I wish to know what steps you are taking,” he said, “with reference to this new discovery of bauxite in Orlac.”
“Has there been any discovery?” Beverley enquired.
“The young man Mauranesco,” Treyer went on, “the brother of the girl who is playing in the orchestra here, claims to have found distinct traces of it in the northern part of the kingdom. You probably know that as well as I do. It is a matter of serious importance to you.”
Beverley paused for a moment while he received change from the waiter and handed him his very munificent gratuity.
“I have heard something about it,” he admitted. “I cannot see, however, that we have any mutual interests in the matter.”
Mr. Treyer was evidently becoming angry and it did not improve his appearance.
“What you say is foolish,” he declared. “You know quite well that your interests will be seriously affected.”
“You speak as though you were aware of the terms of the royal concession and the charter to my company,” Beverley observed.
“I am,” was the harsh reply, “and I know very well that if bauxite is found in any other part of the country it will not come under your charter and it will bring the price down fifty per cent. I was at the meeting to-day. Patting yourselves nicely on the back, were you not, about that concession out of which you cheated me? Something like five hundred thousand pounds’ profit on the first year’s working. You will have to halve that, Mr. Beverley, if Rudolph Mauranesco’s discovery is a genuine one.”
“Maybe,” Beverley admitted. “On the other hand, I scarcely see that it is a matter of profitable discussion between you and me.”
“I will point out why we should discuss it,” Mr. Treyer rejoined with a little snort. “I will sit down for a few minutes.”
“Just as you please,” Beverley replied. “The table is at your disposal. I myself am just leaving.”
There was a moment’s silence. Treyer was struggling with his obvious irritation. Beverley was fastening up his pocketbook.
“So that is to be your attitude?” Treyer demanded harshly.
“Did you expect anything else?” was the curt retort. “You fought us hard to obtain a share in the concession we are holding. We declined negotiations with you then and your offer to help finance the business. We are in the same position to-day. That’s all I have to say to you, Mr. Treyer.”
“Sit down for a few minutes,” the latter urged. “I have a suggestion to make.”
Beverley shook his head.
“If you wish to sit here pray occupy my table,” he begged. “I am leaving now.”
He nodded to the waiter, spoke a gracious word of farewell to the maître d’hôtel who was hovering by, and left the place without another glance at Treyer. The latter stood quite still for several moments watching his departure. His lips seemed to have receded still more. There was an unpleasant light in his eyes as he returned to his table, his hands behind his back, his stoop more pronounced than ever.