Kitabı oku: «The Cardinal Moth», sayfa 8

CHAPTER XIV
"UNEASY LIES THE HEAD – "

As a matter of fact, His Highness the Shan of Koordstan had not intended to go to Lady Frobisher's dance at all, though he had been graciously pleased to accept the invitation. His present intention was to go to bed early and be a little more careful for the future. There was a shakiness about the ruler of Koordstan that told its own tale, a shakiness that would not have conduced to his popularity with his subjects in the Far East.

An interview with a recently-arrived minister of his had changed his plans entirely. In place of bed he had a cold bath and a cup of strong coffee, and sat down, as far as his aching head would allow him, to review the situation. The final outcome was a fit of utter despair and an express letter to Harold Denvers, who fortunately was at home and ready to respond to the invitation.

The Eastern potentate was smoking moodily as he arrived. Harold significantly declined the offer of refreshment of a spirituous description.

"Meaning that I have had enough already," the Shan said moodily. "But I'm sober as a judge now, had enough to make me. The shocking luck I've had lately!"

He tossed a cigarette across to Denvers, and lighted a fresh one of his own.

"So I sent you to give me a leg up if you can. You are the only honest man of the lot. Denvers, I'm in a fine mess over the Blue Stone. If I don't produce it at once I'm done for. It would be madness for me to show my face at home again."

"Somebody has discovered that your Highness has parted with it?"

"That's it. Lefroy is the rogue in the play. The game is Koordstan; for years he has been trying to get rid of me and put my cousin in my place. Even my own ministers are against me. And now I feel positive that Lefroy has given me away. They don't ask me to show the stone, or accuse me of parting with it – they are too deep for that. A minister comes with a lot of literature which he calls important documents of State which require to be sealed immediately. That rascal has been in my cousin's pay for years. And the worst of it is, the whole thing looks so natural and straightforward that I can't refuse, especially as everything has my sanction."

"The document must be sealed with the Blue Stone?" Harold asked.

"Inevitably. It has been the custom for generations. Any deviation from this rule would do for me at once. Hamid Khan was here this afternoon, and I put him off this time by saying I was ill, which was no more than the truth. What shall I say when he comes back presently? If my confounded head did not ache so, I might find some way out of the difficulty, but as it is – "

The Shan smote his fist passionately on the table. Nothing was any good, nothing could save the situation but the immediate production of the twenty thousand pounds needed to recover the jewel from Benstein. At the present moment the Shan had no resources whatever; he had always mortgaged his income, and most of his personal property had been dissipated in his brilliant pursuit of pleasure.

"But that's more or less beyond the point," he groaned. "The stone must be redeemed at once. I could not possibly put Hamid Khan off after to-night, even if I can manage that."

"That will give us time to think," said Harold. "Let your man know that you don't keep so sacred a jewel at your hotel. You have heard of Chancery Lane Safe Deposit?"

The Shan's eyes twinkled. His subtle mind rose to the suggested deception. For the present, at any rate, he saw his way to a pleasing subterfuge. He was pondering over the matter when there came a timid knock at the door, and a slim brown figure came humbly in.

"Hamid Khan," the Shan explained. "Why do you worry me again to-night? Didn't I say I was too ill to be troubled with state business?"

Hamid prostrated himself at his master's feet. He was desolate and heart-broken; might any number of dogs defile his father's grave for his presumption, but the thing had to be done.

"I haven't got the stone," the Shan said, "I haven't been well enough to fetch it myself, and I dare not trust anybody else. Dog, do you suppose I should keep the jewel here? There is a place of vaults and steel chambers and strong rooms guarded night and day by warders, where the wealthy keep their valuables. The place is called the Safe Deposit, and is hard by where the learned lawyers argue. That is where the stone is, in proof of which I show you the key."

The Shan gravely held up a latch-key. Acting though he was, there was a dignity about him that quite impressed Denvers. Hamid was impressed also, or his face belied him. He was sorry to have offended his royal master, but he was only obeying orders. Should he come again on the morrow?

"Ay, at midday," the Shan said loftily. "Now take your miserable body from my presence."

The Shan's dignity collapsed as the door closed behind Hamid Khan. He looked to Harold for assistance. He had not more than fourteen hours or so – and most of them the hours of the night – to find salvation. All the time Harold was leisurely turning over matters in his mind. If he could manage this thing for the Shan his future was made. He had his finger on the centre of an international intrigue almost. The Shan had always been favourable to England, his tastes and inclinations, his very vices, were English, whereas the new aspect leant towards Russia. The British Government doubtless would have stood by the Shan at this juncture had they known.

"There's only one thing for it," Harold said after a long pause. "We must try and work on Benstein's cupidity. He knows you, he is well aware that your name is good for a large sum of money, only he will have to wait for it. And of your integrity there is no doubt."

"Your Foreign Secretary does not think so," the Shan groaned.

"I am not speaking of morals now, but stability. For the time you are hard up. If you will eschew champagne for a time, not to mention other things, you could make it worth Benstein's while to wait for a few weeks. Ask him to let you have the Blue Stone for a few days, after which it will be returned to him until it is properly redeemed. For this accommodation you are prepared to pay a further two thousand pounds."

The Shan nodded greedily. He was prepared to promise anything. His lips were twitching with excitement. He rose and put on his coat.

"Let us go at once," he said. "But stop, do you know where Benstein lives? And if we do find him it's long odds that stone is deposited with his bankers."

"Benstein lives in Berkeley Square," Denvers explained. "He is growing old and senile, he has come to that cunning stage when he does not trust anybody. He keeps all his valuables in a big strong-room at his house. That I know for certain. He is sure to be at home."

"Then we'll go at once. It's a forlorn hope, but still – come along." Denvers checked his impulsive companion. Common prudence must not be forgotten.

"Your Highness forgets that you are certain to be watched," he said. "Your friend Hamid or some of his spies are sure to be pretty close. I'll go away from the hotel and wait for you in Piccadilly. Then you steal out by the side door and meet me."

The Shan nodded approval. His head was too bad for him to think for himself. Harold stood on the steps of Gardner's Hotel, and hailed the first taxi that passed. The cabman was to drive to Piccadilly and there wait.

Progress in Piccadilly was slow in consequence of the block of carriages before Frobisher's house. The guests were arriving in a steady stream, and Denvers amused himself by identifying most of them. One of the last comers was Lord Rashburn, Foreign Secretary, and his wife. Harold smiled to himself as he wondered what his lordship would give for his own private information. It might be necessary to appeal to Rashburn presently, and it was a good thing to know where to find him. Only it would be useless for Denvers to try and obtain admission to Frobisher's house.

The Shan came up presently, and Berkeley Square was reached at length. Benstein was at home, and the footman had no doubt that he would see his visitors, late as it was. Many a bit of business with people who needed money in a desperate hurry had Benstein done between the dinner-hour and midnight. He was seated in his library now with a fat cigarette between his teeth and poring over a mass of accounts. To reckon up his money and to gloat over his many securities was the one pleasure of Benstein's life.

"Glad to see you, gentlemen – glad to see you," he said, rubbing his puffy hands together. "If there is anything that I can do for your Highness, it will be a pleasure."

"His Highness wants to put two thousand pounds into your pocket," Denvers said. "It is the matter of the Blue Stone of – "

A queer sound came from Benstein's lips, and his mottled face turned as pale as it was possible.

"You don't mean to say that you want the stone to-night?" he gasped.

"Why else are we here?" Harold demanded. The air was full of suspicion and he had caught some of it. "It is absolutely necessary that we should have it back, for a time at least. It was distinctly understood, I think, that the stone was to be returned at any hour of the day or night that we required it?"

Benstein's big head swayed backwards and forwards pendulously, his thick lips were wide apart, and showing the gaps in the yellow teeth beyond. Harold's suspicions became a certainty. Benstein had parted with the stone.

"Do you want it now?" Benstein said, as if the words had been dragged from him.

Harold intimated that he did want the stone immediately. Slowly Benstein was recovering. The rich red blood was creeping into his face again.

"It is impossible," he said. "Usually I keep most of my valuables here. But I recognised the political as well as the pecuniary value of the Blue Stone, and I did not dare. The stone is at the Bank of England, and I cannot get it before ten to-morrow. It is very unfortunate."

"Very," Harold said dryly. "But we must make the best of it. I have a pretty shrewd idea where the stone is, but my guess would not have been the Bank of England. We don't propose to redeem the gem; we suggest that you should let the Shan have it for two or three days on the understanding that when the business is completed your charge is increased by the sum of two thousand pounds."

"But this is not business," Benstein pleaded. "Under the peculiar circumstances – "

"Precisely," Harold interrupted dryly. "Under the peculiar circumstances you are going to accommodate us. Mr. Benstein, I fancy that you and I understand one another."

Benstein's eyes dropped, and the fat cigarette between his fingers trembled. He muttered the talisman word "business" again; but he was understood to agree to the terms offered. He was shakily eager to offer his distinguished guests refreshments of some kind, but Denvers dragged the Shan away. Once in the street, the latter stopped and demanded to know what the pantomime meant.

"It's pretty plain," Harold said. "Old Benstein hasn't got your jewel at this moment."

"Hasn't got it? Do you mean to say that he…? Preposterous! But in the morning – "

"In the morning it will be all right again. In the morning you will see quite another Benstein – a Benstein who has changed his mind, and will refuse to part with the Blue Stone so long as a single penny remains unpaid. I startled him to-night. I got astride of that figment of a conscience of his. But I am going to help you to clench the business. Come along."

"Where are you going to?" the Shan asked feebly.

"Back to your hotel. You are going to dress up in your State war-paint and proceed at once to Lady Frobisher's dress-ball. I suppose you've any amount of dresses and that kind of thing – I mean you could rig out a staff, if necessary?"

"I've got all the mummery for going to Court, if that is what you mean."

"Good," Harold cried. "I'll just step into this chemist's and get a few pigments necessary to the successful performance of my little comedy. You are going to the dance as the Shan of Koordstan, and I am going carefully disguised as Aben Abdullah, your suite."

CHAPTER XV
HUNT THE SLIPPER

A fine perspiration stood out on Lefroy's face, he swayed to and fro like one in an advanced stage of intoxication, the Count was utterly unmanned for the moment. As his brain and eye cleared presently, Frobisher came out of the mist in the semblance of a man who was manifestly enjoying himself.

"I pray you sit down," he said in his silkiest manner. "My dear Count, the heat has been too much for you. The hero of a thousand adventures succumbs to a high thermometer – it is possible to choke a Hercules with an orange pip. A little of the old brandy, eh?"

Frobisher's face was perfectly grave now, only the dilation of his pupils and the faint quivering of his lips denoted his amusement. Lefroy forced a smile in reply. He was conscious of the fact that that little demon opposite was reading his inmost thoughts.

"Just a little of the brandy," Frobisher said coaxingly. "The kind that I keep for my very dear friends. Ah, I am sure that is better. Now let us sit down and smoke, and forget the giddy side outside."

Lefroy nodded. The course suggested suited him admiringly. When he was best pleased Frobisher chatted most, and he seemed to be exceedingly pleased about something now. Lefroy would have time to recover his scattered thoughts and define some line of action.

"You have solved the problem of the lady of the rubies?" Sir Clement asked.

"I have," Lefroy replied carelessly. "From a romantic point of view the solution is disappointing. I expected to see a regal personage at the very least, whereas – "

The speaker shrugged his shoulders insolently. The other smiled expectantly.

"Go on, my dear Lefroy. I am all attention, I assure you. The lady of the rubies is – ?"

It was on the tip of Lefroy's tongue to snarlingly reply that Frobisher knew perfectly well, but that was bad policy under the circumstances.

"You are typical of the spirit of the age," he said. "All the same, I hardly expected to see the wife of a moneylender under your roof. Lady Frobisher – "

"Has progressed rapidly of late in the cult of the proletariat. So Mrs. Benstein is the lady of the rubies. I half expected it from the first – only the wife of a moneylender could sport jewels like that. But she is a beautiful woman, Lefroy, and she is going to make a great social success."

Lefroy could only mutter something in reply. He had one great aim in view at the present moment – to get back to the ballroom and persuade Frobisher to remain where he was. Did the Count but know it, Frobisher was just as eager to reverse the order of the procedure. But no suggestion of this escaped him, he sat there smiling as if he and a double meaning were strangers.

"I am very partial to rubies myself," he said. "In a modest way I am a collector, and my uncut stones are worth an inspection. My wife also has the same weakness, which is another of the many strong bonds that bind us together. I'll show them to you."

"Don't trouble," Lefroy said hastily. "Any other time will do. If you have to fetch them – "

"Sit down. Positively you must have another drop of the brandy. Your nerves are better, but not what the nerves of a bold warrior should be."

So saying, Frobisher produced a case from a drawer and laid the contents before Lefroy's eyes. In spite of himself he could not but admire. He did not see the keen, alert look on the face of his host as he bent down to examine the gems. People were passing the open door; there was a light ripple of laughter and conversation. Frobisher darted into the hall.

"This way a moment," he whispered, as he caught his wife by the arm. "Come with me and do as I tell you. You are to keep Lefroy in yonder room for half an hour."

He was back again before Lefroy had missed him. Lady Frobisher's scornful eyes softened as they fell upon the tray of gems.

"We have a taste in common, then, Count," she said.

Lefroy replied suitably enough. He had a strong admiration for the white, cold beauty of this woman; he watched her slim fingers as she toyed with the gems. Some of them were unnamed, whilst others had histories of their own. Frobisher pitched his cigarette into the grate.

"You can amuse the Count, my dear," he said. "He has had some little touch of illness, and should be kept quiet. The gems will interest him. Meanwhile, I will endeavour to take your place."

It was all done so quickly and naturally that Lefroy could do or say nothing. Did Frobisher really know anything or not, he began to wonder. If there was any conspiracy Lady Frobisher knew nothing of it, it only needed a glance at that scornful, beautiful face to feel that. She was talking now easily and naturally enough with one of the stones in her pink palm, and Lefroy had perforce to listen. To leave the room now would have been an unpardonable rudeness – a gaucherie Lefroy never allowed himself to commit.

Meanwhile Frobisher had mingled with his guests. He was in no hurry. Lefroy was safely out of the way for a time, and Frobisher always preferred to hunt his game leisurely. Besides, the crush of dancers and guests generally was so great that progression was a matter of some difficulty. He came across Angela presently attired in white and with a pair of gauze wings suggestive of Peace or something of that kind.

"Stop a bit," he said, "and tell me all about it. Upon my word, you are looking exceedingly nice. By common consent, who is the success of the evening?"

"Oh, Mrs. Benstein, without doubt," Angela replied, with sincere admiration. "She is lovely, and those rubies are simply superb. Everybody is talking about them."

"And the fortunate woman herself? How does she wear her blushing honours?"

"Very well indeed. You know, I rather like her. Everybody is asking for an introduction now, but at first people held aloof. I have had a long chat with Mrs. Benstein, and she quite fascinated me. She is going to be a great success."

"Of course she is with her cleverness and audacity, to say nothing of her beauty and her jewels, it could not be otherwise. I must go and pay my respects to her. Where is she?"

But Angela had not the slightest idea. Something like a thousand people were scattered about the long suite of rooms, and there were shady alcoves and dim corners for easy conversation à deux. Mingled with the brilliant throng of uniform and fancy dresses the jewelled turban of the Shan of Koordstan stood out. He came up with his companion similarly attired, and held out his hand.

"This is an unexpected pleasure, your Highness," said Frobisher. "I heard that you were not quite – "

"Sober," the Shan said frankly. "I have been leading a deuce of a life lately, Frobisher. My servant here, Aben Abdullah, insisted upon my putting in an appearance here to-night. He has been bullying me as he would never dare to do at home. When we get back I shall have to bowstring him gently. He is a very valuable servant, but he knows too much."

Aben Abdullah bowed and smiled. The Shan extended his patronage to Angela.

"My servant knows a little English," he said. "My dear young lady, would it be too great a trespass on your kindness to ask you to act as his cicerone for a time? I have a little business to discuss with Sir Clement. Aben is very intelligent, and he is a noble in his own country."

Angela expressed her pleasure. She was always ready to sacrifice herself to others; besides, she had rather taken a fancy to this handsome young foreigner, who reminded her somehow of Harold Denvers.

"What would you like to do?" she asked, as they strolled off together.

Aben murmured something about the flowers that he had heard so much about. Could he see them? Angela would be delighted. They stood in a large conservatory at length in the dim light, and then Aben smiled down into Angela's face.

"I feel sure of my disguise now, darling," he whispered. "If I could deceive you, I am not in the least afraid that Sir Clement will find me out."

"But what does it mean, Harold?" Angela asked. "You certainly reminded me of yourself; but I should never have penetrated your disguise. But the Shan must know all about it."

"Of course he does. It is a little scheme that we have hatched together. I have no time to tell you everything now; indeed, with so clever a man to deal with as Frobisher it is far better that you should not know. But the Shan has done a very foolish thing, and his very throne is in danger. Both Frobisher and Lefroy know this, and they will do all they can to keep him under their control. If I can defeat that plot and free the Shan, then I need not trouble about the future."

Angela's eyes lighted up eagerly. All her quick sympathies had been interested.

"You will let me help you?" she exclaimed. "Harold, I am quite sure that you want my assistance. I am a great deal stronger and braver than you imagine. Try me."

"I am going to try you, my dear little girl," Harold whispered. "I should like to kiss you at this moment, but I dare not take any risks. For the present your task is a very simple one. I want you to get a certain lady in here and sit under the shaded lamp yonder. You must get here and keep her talking till I come back. If I hold up my two hands your task is finished; if I come forward, you must know that I want to speak to the lady alone."

"It all sounds very mysterious, Harold. Who is the lady?"

"They have christened her the lady of the rubies here. I was very pleased just now to hear that you had, so to speak, made friends with her. Will you go at once?"

Angela made off hurriedly, and, for the time being, Harold returned to the ballroom. On the whole, he was not particularly enamoured of the part he was playing: the idea of forcing himself into a house where he had been forbidden by the host was repugnant to his finer feelings; but, on the other hand, any scheme was worthy which had for its end the defeat of a scoundrel. As the Shan caught Harold's warning eye he left Frobisher and moved towards his ally.

"So far there is not much the matter," Harold replied. "Miss Lyne knows exactly what she has to do, and she will do it well. You are going to have a pretty big surprise just now, but whether it will turn out a pleasant one or the reverse I cannot say as yet. Stand here and pretend to be interested in the pictures."

Angela had been more successful in her search than Frobisher. A prosy peer had buttonholed his host and the latter could not get away for the present without using actual violence. Angela had found the lady of the rubies sitting in a dim corner alone. She looked a little dazed and tired.

"I am not used to it," she said frankly. "And I can't stand all their silly folly. I sent my partner for an ice on purpose to get rid of him. My dear young lady, you are very kind, and I've taken a great fancy to you because you are the first person I have spoken to to-night who is honest and true. All the same, I really want that ice, and if you can find some quiet corner – "

"I know the very thing," Angela cried eagerly, delighted at the way fate was playing into her hands. "Come along. There, what do you think of that? Sit down near the light and I'll go and get the ice."

Mrs. Benstein protested, but Angela was already out of earshot. The Shan and his companion were deeply engrossed in a pair of Romneys as Angela passed them.

"I have secured your bird," she whispered. "She is exactly where you asked me to place her."

Harold touched his companion on the arm, and they strolled away leisurely in the direction of the great conservatory. It was fairly quiet here, with few people about. Under the lamp sat a rarely beautiful woman whose dress from head to foot was one mass of rubies. Another one flamed across her forehead.

"What do you think of her?" Harold whispered. "And what do you think of that big stone that is attached to her forehead by those thin gold wires?"

The Shan started violently. He rubbed his hands across his red bloodshot eyes.

"The Blue Stone of Ghan," he whispered hoarsely. "By Allah, she is wearing the sacred jewel!"