Читать книгу A Secret Service - Fred M. White - Страница 8

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Ida bit her lip between her teeth sharply, and only with the greatest difficulty suppressed a cry. Fortunately her back was towards the speaker so that he could not get a glimpse of her white, startled face. Evidently this man knew Valerie Brune and had something of the last importance to say to her. Whether he was a friend or an enemy of the girl whom she was impersonating Ida could not speculate. At any rate, he must not be allowed to guess that he had made a mistake.

"What now?" Ida asked impatiently. "Why do you worry me at such an inconvenient time?"

"Surely I'm speaking for your good," the man replied. "Don't say you've never heard of me, of Ralph Arnott, before."

Ida was on the qui vive; she must quickly grasp her chances. It was plain that whoever this man was he had never met the real Valerie Brune in the flesh.

"I am not going to pretend ignorance," she said. "Go on."

"Well, you will not deny that I have been of considerable service to you, and I should have come to see you before now did I not agree with you that such a course might be dangerous. I have managed to shake off George Heathcote. I sent him on a fool's errand, and he won't be back just yet."

So, Ida thought. George Heathcote was the man with the hatchet face and compressed lips. This was so much gained anyway. If she preserved her present attitude of languid indifference, and did not ask too many questions, all might be well.

"Before we go any further," she said, "I assume you do not want Mr. Heathcote to know that you have spoken to me. Is that correct, Mr. Arnott?"

"Of course it is." the man called Arnott responded. "If I knew how far you trusted Heathcote—"

"Then I may tell you I don't trust him at all. I don't mind confessing that I dislike him exceedingly."

"Yes, I understood you'd quarrelled. Miss Brune, that man's a traitor. He professes to be devoted to our interests, but he has been playing for his own hand all the time. With him it's entirely a matter of money. It's a hateful thing to see a man who poses as a patriotic Englishman trafficking in his country's naval and military secrets."

"But you can stop that, Mr. Arnott," Ida hazarded.

"I can and I can't. He is using me for his own base purposes. If he liked he could give me information which would clear my name and enable me to hold up my head in the world again. As it is, I have to fetch and carry for Heathcote, to do his slightest bidding, to become a paid spy in the service of a foreign country in the hope that some day he may toss me the key to my freedom."

"But that is very wrong." Ida protested.

The man with the discontented mouth laughed mirthlessly.

"That is a quaint remark to fall from the lips of Valerie Brune," he said. "My dear lady, you must not pose before me. Don't forget that I also have lived in Berlin."

Ida smiled in a non-committal fashion. She was discovering singular things. Beyond question she had fallen into a nest of spies; she was in the heart of some mysterious intrigue, and could see danger looming in the distance.

"We are none of us as bad as we are painted," Arnott went on. "I believe neither of us would be quite as we are had not fate been too strong for us. Oh, it was all very well for you to suggest that I should hold my hand! Put yourself in my place. Five years ago I was one of the happiest of men. I had the journalistic ball at my foot, and was engaged to one of the dearest and sweetest girls Devon ever produced. And at this moment I am a convict, a man whom everybody despises with the solitary exception of the editor of my paper. I'm an innocent man. I daresay the girl is still waiting for me; in fact, I know she is. But I vowed that I'd never go near her until I had proof of my innocence. That is why I have mixed myself up with this dirty spy movement. I tell you this because I have heard of many things to your credit, and know that you have been forced by sheer weight of circumstance into a life that you loathe. But if I could only get these papers out of Heathcote, even if I had to buy or steal them, I should go back to my clean life again. It ill befits an Englishmen to join in a conspiracy with a foreign Power to damage his own country."

Ida was beginning to see more clearly that this man was telling the truth, she did not doubt for a moment. He had an air of sincerity that carried conviction with it. But she must not allow her heart to run away with her head. She must bear in mind that she was Valerie Brune, a brilliant and successful international spy, and that the man at her side was steeped to the lips in the same intrigue.

"Yes, we are both the victims of fate," she said thoughtfully.

"Personally, I am tired of it. But you did not bring me here to indulge in vain regrets, I suppose. Didn't you say that you had news of—?"

"Arnold Gray. Certainly; I am obliged to you for bringing me back to the point. Now, with one or two exceptions, I am the only person who knows where Gray is. You heard all about that mysterious train business?"

"Only a garbled version. I had other things to worry me at the time. Tell me precisely what happened. I think I ought to know."

"Well, Gray came from Berlin with important dispatches. But I needn't tell you that, because it was you to whom the information first came. When these dispatches are in our possession we shall be in a position to command as good many thousand pounds. During his journey from Dover to Charing-Cross Gray disappeared. At present the matter is in the hands of Scotland Yard. The public know nothing about it, though that is not my fault, because I supplied the information to my paper. When Gray had vanished I didn't see why I couldn't kill two birds with one stone, but for reasons which I do not understand, and which do not interest me, my editor suppressed the story. At any rate, Scotland Yard are quite non-plussed. They know that Gray disappeared from the train. There was not a door open or a window down, and the detectives are at their wits' ends for a theory. You see, a man doesn't throw himself out of a train and then turn the handle afterwards, and for the present purpose I think that's enough. We could give Scotland Yard a good deal of information if we liked, and, in a day or two I've no doubt we shall do so, but not until we've found the dispatches."

"Oh! You can't find them, then?"

"Not so much as a line. We know he had them with him. We know that he could not possibly have passed them on to anybody else, and yet they have vanished in a most extraordinary way. That brings me to the point. If you don't get hold of them, Heathcote will. I want you to go and see Gray—"

"Go and see him!" Ida exclaimed.

"Yes, in leaving the train he met with an accident; in fact, not to put too fine a point on it, he's very bad—something almost in the nature of a fracture, I understand. They managed to get a doctor to look after him. One can always do that when money is no object. I think it very desirable that you should see him."

"What time to-morrow, do you suggest?"

Ida asked the question as casually as she could. She was a little confused and bewildered, and Arnott's startling reply did not render her any the easier.

"To-morrow may be too late," he said abruptly. "I want you to go now. You are so marvellously quick in these matters, and your intuition amounts almost to genius. If you cannot find these papers no woman can. Besides, when I heard you were coming here to-night I arranged everything for you. I have only to step outside and give the signal to one of our men, and a motor is at your disposal. I have procured wraps for you and here is the address on this card."

Not for a moment did Ida hesitate. She would see this adventure out. If there were anything wrong, it would be her duty to expose it. Besides the danger ahead was no greater than the danger of the moment. If Heathcote returned and insisted upon speaking to her, it was inevitable he would discover he had been deceived. So far she would keep her word. She would not betray Valerie Brune if she could help it. There was something, too, in the thought of this young English diplomatist, wounded and a prisoner, which appealed both to her womanliness and her imagination. She threw her wrap about her head.

"I will go at once," she said. "Indeed, the sooner I'm off the better. It is of the utmost importance that I should be back in Grosvenor-square by a quarter past 2. Lead the way, please—it will be as well that we should not be seen together."

The keen breath of the east wind on Ida's face was grateful, as she was borne eastwards, where the streets grew meaner and more narrow, until at length the motor stopped before a dilapidated house looking on to the river. Bidding the driver wait, Ida's knock at the door was answered, after a long interval, by a villainous-looking old woman, who peered into the darkness while she shaded her smoking lamp with a hand yellow and skinny as the claws of a falcon. She was about to close the door again when Ida produced a card. The woman's face changed from a truculent frown to a smile, which if possible, was still more unpleasant.

"Oh, come in your excellent ladyship!" she said. "Come in, it's not often I see the likes of you in my poor little 'ouse."

"How is the patient?"

"Which, I don't deny, your excellent ladyship, 'e's bad," the woman whispered. "The doctor's with 'im now. Perhaps you'd like to speak to the gentleman yerself?"

"I think not," Ida said hastily. "Shew me into a sitting-room, and I'll wait till he's gone."

From overhead there came the sound of voices and the old woman grinned. There was an evil light in her eyes.

"That's 'im," she croaked, "a'talking in 'is delirium. E'll let it all out presently."