Читать книгу The Day, or The Passing of a Throne - Fred M. White - Страница 5

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What did it all mean? Rosslyn hesitated between love and duty. He was convinced in his mind now that Pierre Leroux was a particularly dangerous German spy who had cleverly passed himself off as a Frenchman for many years. Beyond all question this man had a powerful secret wireless installation on the roof of his office in Cannon-street. And beyond question Vera knew all about it. And yet it seemed almost impossible to identify the girl with her father's dark and dangerous business. It seemed hard to believe that these blue eyes which had smiled so sweetly into his could veil a soul steeped in intrigue and treachery. He could not bring himself to credit the fact that Vera had deliberately lured him on to betray his country.

It seemed to him that he loved her at that moment more than he had ever done before, and none the less because he saw quite plainly that she could be nothing to him in the future.

Perhaps she cared for him still, at any rate she was taking considerable risks to save him from a great personal danger. If that letter meant anything, it was a confession on Vera's part that she was mixed up in a conspiracy which boded no good to Great Britain. At any rate, she was a very woman after all, and if she had not cared for Rosslyn she would never have written that letter. Had she been merely playing with him she would have abandoned him to his fate, and Rosslyn was too old a hand at the game to have any delusions on the score of what that fate would be. None knew better than he that London swarmed with German spies who carried their lives in their hands, and who were prepared to commit murder to save their rascally skins. He had sat many a time at Leroux's table, where he was always a welcome guest, but that was before the outbreak of the war, and things were very different now. Still, Rosslyn was grateful enough to the girl who was risking so much to ensure his safety. He would go and see her, late as it was, and demand an explanation for that extraordinary letter. He might find Leroux at home, in which case he would have to alter his tactics a little, but he was determined to see Vera before he slept. A light was burning in the hall of the flat in Medhurst-gardens, and almost before the bell had ceased to ring, the door was flung open by Vera herself.

"Ah!" she cried, "I was afraid of something like this. Oh, why did you come here? Cannot you understand the risks I took in sending it to you. If you had only been ready to trust me!"

She threw up her slender hands with the gesture of despair. Her face was pale and sorrowful, there were dark rings under her anxious eyes. And yet it seemed to Rosslyn that she had never been so sweet and attractive before. He smiled bitterly.

"These are strange questions to come from you," he said. "If you will be good enough to give me a few minutes—"

"Come in, by all means. My father is out, and I don t expect him back for some time. But this is a mad thing you are doing, Paul."

The Christian name dropped unconsciously from the girl's lips. Paul smiled bitterly again as he heard it.

"I believe I am mad," he said. "Mad with disappointment and doubt and cut to the heart by what I have learnt tonight. I am going to be quite plain with you, Vera. You will not deny that you know how much I love you."

The girl bent her head and the blood flamed into her cheeks. There were tears in her eyes, but they did not fall.

"I—I had hoped so," the girl stammered.

"You knew it," Rosslyn said sternly. "For weeks I have made no disguise of my feelings. And I thought that you cared for me, too. In your strange way I believe that you do. And yet with all that you have not hesitated to draw from me secrets that belong to my country. You know that I occupy a responsible position, and that I should be everlastingly disgraced if I did anything in any way to help the enemy. I took you and your father for patriotic French people. I have heard you condemn the Prussians and speak of the Kaiser with loathing and contempt. Oh, it was well done—better acting I have never seen."

"It was not acting," Vera whispered shakily.

"But it must have been. Surely in the face of what happened in this very room an hour or two ago, you are not going to deny that your father is a German. You are not going to try and persuade me that he is no spy. I am quite convinced that he is one of the most dangerous ones in London. And you probably know as much about this intrigue as he does. And you know, too, that my duty is plain. When I got your note this evening I should have taken it round to Scotland Yard and told the police everything. By this time your father would have been arrested and possibly shot, at any rate a long term of imprisonment would have been inevitable. And you? Ah, my dear Vera, even your youth and beauty would have been no protection. England is in no mood now for sickly sentiment. You would have shared your father's sentence, those little white hands of yours would have grown hard with menial work. And because I know that, I am here to-night. I want to save you, because I love you, and because I shall go on loving you whatever happens. You are young and impressionable, and this adventure appeals to you. You think you are striking a blow for Germany, but how feeble and futile a blow it is! Surely you are not blind to the truth. Surely you know that the Kaiser is in the trap and that Germany is doomed. Now tell me everything, and I will do the best I can for you; more than that I will do my best for your father. I ought to be ashamed to say so, but when I look into those blue eyes of yours—"

"Oh I cannot, I cannot," Vera cried. "If you only knew how I am suffering at this minute your heart would bleed for me. I am all that you say and more, and I am a German patriot to an extent you little dream of. And it is because of this that my lips are sealed. Won't you try and believe in me, Paul? Won't you try and judge me kindly? Some day you will know the truth, but you will not know it if you go on in the way you are doing. And I do love you just as much as you love me. I have cared for you from the first, and I told my father so; I implored of him to set me free from my promise; I begged of him not to use you—"

"Ah, then I am the cat's-paw," Roslyn cried. "Your kindness to me has not been spontaneous. I have been lured here for a purpose which stills remains to be seen. Heavens, what a fool I have been! Why am I wasting my precious moments like this? I will give you one more chance, Vera. I am to trust implicitly in you, but you do not trust me a single yard. Tell me everything. Show me I am mistaken in my conclusions that you are a common spy."

Rosslyn bent down and laid his hands on the girl's shoulders. He could feel her shrink and tremble, but the melting blue eyes met his firmly enough.

"I cannot, I dare not," she said. "And I dare not because I know you will never consent to do as we wish. Oh, it sounds very elusive and mysterious, but I am not trying to blind you. You must go your way, and I must go mine, and perhaps, later on—"

"Now what are you two conspiring," a voice broke in gaily. "Really, my dear Vera, this is something extraordinary in such a proper little person as yourself. I come to bring a message to your father, and what do I find? The hall door open, the servants apparently gone to bed, Monsieur out, and our dear little Vera engaged in a deep flirtation with my friend Paul Rosslyn."

Rosslyn smiled uneasily. It was quite clear that the unexpected advent of lady Loxton had put an end to further confidences. The pretty fair-haired chatterbox dropped into a chair and proceeded to light a cigarette. Rosslyn turned towards the door.

"Appearances are often deceptive," he said. "I came with a message, too, but I stayed rather longer than I intended. Really, Lady Loxton. I am obliged for the interruption. Ladies, permit me to wish you both good-night."

He saw Vera wince and quiver, but he was himself again now. He turned away without another word, and left.