Kitabı oku: «Jennie Baxter, Journalist», sayfa 15
CHAPTER XXI. JENNIE KEEPS STEP WITH THE WEDDING MARCH
They had a smooth and speedy passage across from Calais to Dover, and the train drew in at Charing Cross Station exactly on time. Lord Donal recognized his uncle’s brougham waiting for him, and on handing the young lady out of the railway carriage he espied the old man himself closely scrutinizing the passengers. Sir James, catching sight of him, came eagerly forward and clasped both his nephew’s hands.
“Donal,” he cried, “I am very glad indeed to see you. Is everything right?”
“As right as can be, uncle.”
“Then I am glad of that, too, for we have had some very disquieting hints from the East.”
“They were quite justified, as I shall tell you later on; but meanwhile, uncle, allow me to introduce to you Miss Baxter, who has done me the honour of promising to be my wife.”
Jennie blushed in the searching rays of the electric light as the old man turned quickly towards her. Sir James held her hand in his for some moments before he spoke, gazing intently at her. Then he said slowly, “Ah, Donal, Donal, you always had a keen eye for the beautiful.”
“Oh, I say,” cried the young man, abashed at his uncle’s frankness, “I don’t call that a diplomatic remark at all, you know.”
“Indeed, Sir James,” said the girl, laughing merrily, “it is better than diplomatic, it is complimentary, and I assure you I appreciate it. The first time he met me he took me for quite another person.”
“Then, whoever that person is, my dear,” replied the old man, “I’ll guarantee she is a lovely woman. And you mustn’t mind what I say; nobody else does, otherwise my boy Donal here would be much higher in the service than the present moment finds him; but I am pleased to tell you that the journey he has now finished will prove greatly to his advantage.”
“Indeed, uncle, that is true,” said the young man, looking at his betrothed, “for on this journey I met again Miss Baxter, whom, to my great grief, I had lost for some time. And now, uncle, I want you to do me a great favour. Do you know Mr. Hardwick, editor of the Daily Bugle?”
“Yes, I know him; but I don’t like him, nor his paper either.”
“Well, neither do the Russians, for that matter, by this time, and I merely wish to tell you that if it hadn’t been for his action, and for the promptness of a member of his staff, I should have failed in this mission. I was drugged by the Russian police and robbed. Miss Baxter, who was on the train, saw something of what was going forward, and succeeded, most deftly, in despoiling the robbers. I was lying insensible at the time and helpless. She secured the document and handed it back to me when we had crossed the frontier, leaving in the hands of the Russians a similar envelope containing a copy of the Daily Bugle; therefore, uncle, if in future you can do anything to oblige Mr. Hardwick, you will help in a measure to cancel the obligation which our family owes to him.”
“My dear boy, I shall be delighted to do so. I am afraid I have been rather uncivil to him. If you wish it, I will go at once and apologize to him.”
“Oh, no,” cried Jennie, “you must not do that; but if you can help him without jeopardizing the service, I, for one, will be very glad.”
“So shall I,” said Donal.
The old man took out his card-case, and on the back of his card scribbled a most cordial invitation to Hardwick, asking him to call on him. He handed this to Jennie, and said,—
“Tell Mr. Hardwick that I shall be pleased to see him at any time.”
“And now,” said Lord Donal, “you must let us both escort you home in the carriage.”
“No, no. I shall take a hansom, and will go directly to the office of the Bugle, for Mr. Hardwick will be there by this time.”
“But we can drive you there.”
“No, please.”
She held out her hand to Sir James and said, with the least bit of hesitation before uttering the last word, “Good night—uncle.”
“Good night, my dear,” said the old man, “and God bless you,” he added with a tenderness which his appearance, so solemn and stately, left one unprepared for.
Lord Donal saw his betrothed into a hansom, protesting all the while at thus having to allow her to go off unprotected.
“What an old darling he is,” murmured Jennie, ignoring his protests. “I think if Mr. Hardwick had allowed me to look after the interests of the paper at the Foreign Office, Sir James would not have snubbed me.”
“If the Foreign Office dared to do such a thing, it would hear of something not to its advantage from the Diplomatic Service; and so, goodnight, my dear.” And, with additions, the nephew repeated the benediction of the uncle.
Jennie drove directly to the office of the Daily Bugle, and, for the last time, mounting the stairs, entered the editorial rooms. She found Mr. Hardwick at his desk, and he sprang up quickly on seeing who his visitor was. “Ah, you have returned,” he cried. “You didn’t telegraph to me, so I suppose that means failure.”
“I don’t know, Mr. Hardwick. It all depends on whether or not your object was exactly what you told me it was.”
“And what was that? I think I told you that my desire was to get possession of the document which was being transmitted from St. Petersburg to London.”
“No; you said the object was the mollifying of old Sir James Cardiff, of the Foreign Office.”
“Exactly; that was the ultimate object, of course.”
“Very well. Read this card. Sir James gave it to me at Charing Cross Station less than half an hour ago.”
The editor took the card, turned it over in his hands once or twice, and read the cordial message which the old man had scribbled on the back of it.
“Then you have succeeded,” cried Hardwick. “You got the document; but why did you give it to Sir James yourself, instead of letting me hand it to him?”
“That is a long story. To put it briefly, it was because the messenger carrying the document was Lord Donal Stirling, who is—who is—an old friend of mine. Sir James is his uncle, and Lord Donal promised that he would persuade the old man to let other newspapers have no advantages which he refused to the Daily Bugle. I did not give the document to Sir James, I gave it back to Lord Donal.”
“Lord Donal Stirling—Lord Donal Stirling,” mused the editor. “Where have I heard that name before?”
“He is a member of the British Embassy at St. Petersburg, so you may have seen his name in the despatches.”
“No. He is not so celebrated as all that comes to. Ah, I remember now. I met the detective the other night and asked him if anything had come of that romance in high life, to solve which he had asked your assistance. He said the search for the missing lady had been abandoned, and mentioned the name of Lord Donal Stirling as the foolish young man who had been engaged in the pursuit of the unknown.”
Jennie coloured at this and drew herself up indignantly.
“Before you say anything further against Lord Donal,” she cried hotly, “I wish to inform you that he and I are to be married.”
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” said the editor icily. “Then, having failed to find the other girl, he has speedily consoled himself by—”
“There was no other girl. I was the person of whom Mr. Cadbury Taylor was in search. I willingly gave him valuable assistance in the task of failing to find myself. Having only a stupid man to deal with, I had little difficulty in accomplishing my purpose. Neither Mr. Taylor nor Mr. Hardwick ever suspected that the missing person was in their own employ.”
“Well, I’m blessed!” ejaculated Hardwick. “So you baffled Cadbury Taylor in searching for yourself, as you baffled me in getting hold of the Russian letter. It seems to me, Miss Baxter, that where your own inclinations do not coincide with the wishes of your employers, the interests of those who pay you fall to the ground.”
“Mr. Cadbury Taylor didn’t pay me anything for my services as amateur detective, and he has, therefore, no right to grumble. As for the St. Petersburg trip, I shall send you a cheque for all expenses incurred as soon as I reach home.”
“Oh, you mistake me,” asserted Mr. Hardwick earnestly. “I had no thought of even hinting that you have not earned over and over again all the money the Daily Bugle has paid you; besides, I was longing for your return, for I want your assistance in solving a mystery that has rather puzzled us all. Paris is in a turmoil just now over the—”
Jennie’s clear laugh rang out.
“I am going over to Paris in a day or two, Mr. Hardwick, to solve the mystery of dressmaking, and I think, from what I know of it already, it will require my whole attention. I must insist on returning to you the cost of the St. Petersburg journey, for, after all, it proved to be rather a personal excursion, and I couldn’t think of allowing the paper to pay for it. I merely came in to-night to hand you this card from Sir James Cardiff, and I also desired to tender to you personally my resignation. And so I must bid you good-bye, Mr. Hardwick,” said the girl holding out her hand; “and I thank you very much indeed for having given me a chance to work on your paper.”
Before the editor could reply, she was gone, and that good man sat down in his chair bewildered by the suddenness of it all, the room looking empty and dismal, lacking her presence.
“Confound Lord Donal Stirling!” he muttered under his breath, and then, as an editor should he went on impassively with his night’s work.
It was intended that the wedding should be rather a quiet affair, but circumstances proved too strong for the young people. Lord Donal was very popular and the bride was very beautiful. Sir James thought it necessary to invite a great many people, and he intimated to Lord Donal that a highly placed personage desired to honour the function with his presence. And thus the event created quite a little flutter in the smart set. The society papers affirmed that this elevated personage had been particularly pleased by some diplomatic service which Lord Donal had recently rendered him; but then, of course, one can never believe what one reads in the society press. However, the man of exalted rank was there, and so people said that perhaps there might be something in the rumour. Naturally there was a great turn-out of ambassadors and ministers, and their presence gave colour and dignity to the crush at St. George’s, Hanover Square. The Princess von Steinheimer made a special journey from Vienna to attend, and on this occasion she brought the Prince with her. The general opinion was that the bridegroom was a very noble-looking fellow, and that the bride, in her sumptuous wedding apparel, was quite too lovely for anything.
The Princess was exceedingly bright and gay, and she chatted with her old friends the Ambassadors from Austria and America.
“I’m so sorry,” she said to the Ambassador from America, “that I did not have time to speak with you at the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s ball, but I was compelled to leave early. You should have come to me sooner. The Count here was much more gallant. We had a most delightful conversation, hadn’t we, Count? I was with Lord Donal, you remember.”
“Oh, yes,” replied the aged Austrian, bowing low; “I shall not soon forget the charming conversation I had with your Highness, and I hope you, on your part, have not forgotten the cordial invitation you gave me to visit again your castle at Meran.”
“Indeed, Count, you know very well how glad I am to see you at any time, either in Vienna or at Meran.”
The American Ambassador remained silent, and glanced alternately from the bride to the Princess with a puzzled expression on his face.
The mystery of the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s Ball proved too much for him, as the search for the missing lady had proved too much for Mr. Cadbury Taylor.
