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The Lost Ambassador written by E. Phillips Oppenheim

E >> E. Phillips Oppenheim >> The Lost Ambassador




She shook her head.

"My uncle," she answered.

"You will not see him!" I exclaimed.

"He will telephone," she answered. "He has promised."

I reached over towards her and took her hands into mine.

"Felicia," I said boldly, "I am your friend. The letter I have told
you of should prove that. I am only anxious for your good. Tell me
what reason your uncle can have for behaving in this extraordinary
way, for allowing himself to be associated even for a moment with such
people as Louis and his friends?"

Everything that it had made me so happy to see in her face died
away. She was once more wan and anxious.

"I cannot tell you," she said,--"I cannot, because I dare not! I have
promised! Only remember this. My uncle has lived in Paris for so many
years--"

"But I thought that he had just come from South America!" I
interrupted.

"Yes, but before that," she explained breathlessly,--"before that! He
loves the mysterious. He likes to be associated with strange people,
and I do believe, too," she continued, "that he has business just now
which must be kept secret for the sake of other people. Oh, I know it
must all seem so strange to you! Won't you believe, Capitaine
Rotherby, that I am grateful for your kindness, and that I would tell
you if I could?"

"I must," I answered, with a sigh. "I must believe what you tell
me. Listen, then. I shall wait until you hear from your uncle."

"Have you come back to your rooms?" she asked timidly.

"I shall do so," I announced, "but I hope that it will be only for the
night. To-morrow, if all goes well, we may be on our way to Norfolk."

There was a knock at the door. She started, and looked at me a little
uneasily. Almost immediately the door was pushed open. It was Louis
who entered, bearing a menu card. He addressed me with a little air of
surprise. I was at once certain that he had known of my visit, and had
come to see what it might mean.

"Monsieur has returned very soon," he remarked, bowing pleasantly.

"My journey was not a long one, Louis," I answered. "What have you
brought that thing for?" I continued, pointing to the menu card. "Do
you want an order for dinner? Miss Delora is dining elsewhere with
me!"

My tone was purposely aggressive. Louis' manners, however, remained
perfection.

"Miss Delora has engaged a table in the cafe," he said. "I have come
myself to suggest a little dinner. I trust she will not disappoint us."

She looked at me pathetically. There was something which I could not
understand in her face. Only I knew that whatever she might ask me I
was prepared to grant.

"Will you not stay and dine here with me?" she said. "Louis will give
us a very good dinner, and afterwards I shall have my message, and I
shall know whether I may go or not."

The humor of the idea appealed to me. There was suddenly something
fantastic, unbelievable, in the events of last night.

"With pleasure!" I answered.

Louis bowed, and for a moment or two seemed entirely engrossed in the
few additions he was making to the menu he carried. Then he handed it
to me with a little bow.

"There, monsieur," he said. "I think that you will find that
excellent."

"I have no doubt that we shall, Louis," I answered. "I will only ask
you to remember one thing."

"And that, monsieur?" he asked.

"I dine with mademoiselle," I said, "and our appetites are identical!"

Louis smiled. There were times when I suspected him of a sense of
humor!

"Monsieur has not the thick neck of Bartot!" he murmured, as he
withdrew.




CHAPTER XXIII

FELICIA


It seemed to me that Felicia that night was in her most charming
mood. She wore a dress of some soft white material, and a large black
hat, under which her face--a little paler even than usual--wore almost
a pathetic aspect. Her fingers touched my arm as we entered the
restaurant together. She seemed, in a way, to have lost some of her
self-control,--the exclusiveness with which she had surrounded
herself,--and to have become at once more natural and more girlish. I
noticed that she chose a seat with her back to the room, and I
understood her reason even before she told me.

"I think," she said, "that to-night it would be pleasant to forget
that there is any one here who disturbs me. I think it would be
pleasant to remember only that this great holiday of mine, which I
have looked forward to so long, has really begun."

"You have looked forward to coming to London so much?" I asked.

"Yes!" she answered. "I have lived a very quiet life, Capitaine
Rotherby. After the Sisters had finished with me--and I stayed at the
school longer than any of the others--I went straight to the house of
a friend of my uncle's, where I had only a _dame de compagnie_.
My uncle--he was so long coming, and the life was very dull. But
always he wrote to me, 'Some day I will take you to London!' Even
when we were in Paris together he would tell me that."

"Tell me," I asked, "what is your uncle's Christian name?"

"I have three uncles," she said, after a moment's
hesitation,--"Maurice, Ferdinand, and Nicholas. Nicholas lives all the
time in South America. Maurice and Ferdinand are often in Paris."

"And the uncle with whom you are now?" I asked.

I seemed to have been unfortunate in my choice of a conversation. Her
eyes had grown larger. The quivering of her lips was almost pitiful.

"I am a clumsy ass!" I interrupted quickly. "I am asking you questions
which you do not wish to answer. A little later on, perhaps, you will
tell me everything of your own accord. But to-night I shall ask you
nothing. We will remember only that the holiday has begun."

She drew a little sigh of relief.

"You are so kind," she murmured, "so very kind. Indeed I do not want
to think of these things, which I do not understand, and which only
puzzle me all the time. We will let them alone, is it not so? We will
let them alone and talk about foolish things. Or you shall tell me
about London, and the country--tell me what we will do. Indeed, I may
go down to your home in Norfolk."

"I think you will like it there," I said. "It is too stuffy for London
these months. My brother's house is not far from the sea. There is a
great park which stretches down to some marshes, and beyond that the
sands."

"Can one bathe?" she asked breathlessly.

"Of course," I answered. "There is a private beach, and when we have
people in the house at this time of the year we always have the
motor-car ready to take them down and back. That is for those who
bathe early. Later on it is only a pleasant walk. Then you can learn
games if you like,--golf and tennis, cricket and croquet."

"I should be so stupid," she said, with a little regretful sigh. "In
France they did not teach me those things. I can play tennis a little,
but oh! so badly; and in England," she continued, "you think so much
of your games. Tell me, Capitaine Rotherby, will you think me very
stupid in the country if I can do nothing but swim a little and play
tennis very badly?"

"Rather not!" I answered. "There is the motor, you know. I could take
you for some delightful drives. We should find plenty to do, I am
sure, and I promise you that if only you will be as amiable as you are
here I shall not find any fault."

"You will like to have me there?" she asked.

Her question came with the simplicity of a child. She laughed softly
with pleasure when I leaned over the table and whispered to her,--

"Better than anything else in the world!"

"I am not sure, Capitaine Rotherby," she said, looking at me out of
her great eyes, "whether you are behaving nicely."

"If I am not," I declared, "it is your fault! You should not look so
charming."

She laughed softly.

"And you should not make such speeches to a poor little foreign girl,"
she said, "who knows so little of your London ways."

Louis stood suddenly before us. We felt his presence like a cold
shadow. The laughter died away from her eyes, and I found it difficult
enough to address him civilly.

"Monsieur is well served?" he asked. "Everything all right, eh?"

"Everything is very good, as usual, Louis," I answered. "The only
thing that is amiss you cannot alter."

"For example?" he asked.

"The atmosphere," I answered. "It is no weather for London."

"Monsieur is right," he admitted. "He is thinking of departing for the
country soon?"

"It depends a little upon mademoiselle," I answered.

Louis shook his head very slowly. He had the air of a man who
discusses something with infinite regret.

"It would be very delightful indeed," he said, "if it were possible
for mademoiselle to go into Norfolk to your brother's house. It would
be very good for mademoiselle, but I am not sure--I fear that her
uncle--"

"How the mischief did you know anything about it?" I asked in
amazement.

Louis smiled--that subtle, half-concealed smile which seemed scarcely
to part his lips.

"Why should not mademoiselle have told me?" he asked.

"But I have not!" she declared suddenly. "I have not seen Louis since
you were here this afternoon, Capitaine Rotherby."

Louis extended his hands.

"It is true," he admitted. "It is not from mademoiselle that I had the
news. But there, one cannot tell. Things may alter at any moment. It
may be very pleasant for Monsieur Delora that his niece is able to
accept this charming invitation."

"So you have been in communication with Mr. Delora, Louis?" I asked.

"Naturally," Louis answered. "He told me of mademoiselle's request. He
told me that he had promised to reply at ten o'clock this evening."

"Perhaps you can tell us," I remarked, "what that reply will be?"

Louis' face remained absolutely expressionless. He only shook his
head.

"Mr. Delora is his own master," he said. "It may suit him to be
without mademoiselle, or it may not. Pardon, monsieur!"

Louis was gone, but he had left his shadow behind.

"He does not think," she murmured, "that I may come!"

"Felicia,--" I said.

"But I did not say that you might call me Felicia!" she interrupted.

"Then do say so," I begged.

"For this evening, then," she assented.

"For this evening, then, Felicia," I continued. "I do not wish to
worry you by talking about certain things, but do you not think
yourself that your uncle is very inconsiderate to leave you here alone
on your first visit to London,--not to come near the place, or provide
you with any means of amusement? Why should he hesitate to let you
come to us?"

"We will not talk of it," she begged, a little nervously. "I must do
as he wishes. We will hope that he says yes, will we not?"

"He must say yes!" I declared. "If he doesn't I'll find out where he
is, somehow, and go and talk to him!"

She shook her head.

"He is very much engaged," she said. "He would not like you to find
him out, nor would he have any time to talk to you."

"Selling his coffee?" I could not help saying.

"To-night, Capitaine Rotherby," she answered softly, "we do not talk
of those things. Tell me what else we shall do down at your brother's
house?"

"We shall go for long walks," I told her. "There are beautiful gardens
there--a rose garden more than a hundred years old, and at the end of
it a footpath which leads through a pine plantation and then down to
the sea marshes. We can sit and watch the sea and talk, and when you
find it dull we will fill the house with young people, and play games
and dance--dance by moonlight, if you like. Or we can go fishing," I
continued. "There is a small yacht there and a couple of
sailing-boats."

She listened as though afraid of losing a single word.

"Tell me," I asked, "have you been lonely all your life, child?"

"All my life," she answered, and somehow or other her voice seemed to
me full of tears, so that I was almost surprised to find her eyes
dry. "Yes, I have always been lonely!" she murmured. "My uncle has
been kind to me, but he has always some great scheme on hand, and
Madame Muller--she would be kind if she knew how, I think, but she is
as though she were made of wood. She has no sympathy, she does not
understand."

"I wonder," I said reflectively, "what made your uncle bring you
here."

"It was a promise," she said hurriedly,--"a promise of long ago. You
yourself must know that. Your letter from your brother in South
America said, 'Mr. Delora and his niece.'"

"It is true," I admitted. "But why he should want to bring you and
then neglect you like this--But I forgot," I interrupted. "We must not
talk so. Tell me, you have been often to the theatre in Paris?"

"Very seldom," she answered, "and I love it so much. Madame Muller and
I go sometimes, but where we live is some distance from Paris, and it
is difficult to get home afterwards, especially for us two alone. My
uncle takes us sometimes, but he is generally so occupied."

"He is often in Paris, then?" I asked.

She started a little.

"Yes!" she said hurriedly. "He is often there, of course. But please
do not forget,--to-night we do not talk about my uncle. We talk about
ourselves. May I ask you something?"

"Certainly!" I answered.

"If my uncle says 'No!'--that I may not come--do you go away
altogether, then, to-morrow?"

"No," I answered, "I do not! I shall not leave you alone here. So long
as you stay, I shall remain in London."

She drew a little breath, and with a quick, impetuous movement her
hand stole across the table and pressed mine.

"It is so good of you!" she murmured.

"I am afraid that it is selfishness, Felicia," I answered. "I should
not care to go away and leave you here. I am beginning to find," I
added, "that the pleasures in life which do not include you count for
very little."

"You will turn my head," she declared, with a delightful little laugh.

"It is the truth," I assured her.

"I am quite sure now," she murmured, "that my great holiday has
commenced!"




CHAPTER XXIV

A TANTALIZING GLIMPSE


Felicia laid down the receiver and looked at me. There was scarcely
any need for words. Her disappointment was written into her white
face.

"You are not to come!" I said.

"I am not--to come," she repeated. "After all, my holiday is not yet."

"Will you tell me," I asked, "where I can find your uncle?"

She shook her head.

"You must not ask me such a thing," she declared.

"Remember," I said, "that I have really called to make his
acquaintance as a matter of courtesy on behalf of my brother. What
excuse do you give me for his absence? Tell me what it is that you
are supposed to say in such a case?"

"Simply that he is away for a few days, engaged in the most important
business," she answered. "He will rejoin me here directly it is
settled."

"And in the meantime," I said thoughtfully, "you are left in a strange
hotel without friends, without a chaperon, absolutely unprotected, and
with only a head-waiter in your confidence. Felicia, there is
something very wrong here. I am not sure," I continued, "that it is
not my duty to run away with you."

She clasped her hands.

"Delightful!" she murmured. "But I mustn't think of it," she added,
with a sudden gravity, "nor must you talk to me like that. What my
uncle says is best to be done. He knows and understands. If he has had
to leave me here alone, it is because it is necessary."

"You have a great deal of faith in him," I remarked.

"He has always been kind to me," she answered, "and I know that the
business upon which he is engaged just now is hazardous and
difficult. There are men who do not wish it to go through, and they
watch for him. If they knew his whereabouts they would try to stop
him."

"Felicia, do you know what that business is?" I asked.

"I have some idea of it," she answered.

Her answer puzzled me. If Felicia really had any idea as to the nature
of it, and was content to play the part she was playing, it certainly
could not be anything of an illicit nature. Yet everything else which
had come under my notice pointed to Delora's being associated with a
criminal undertaking. I paced the room, deep in thought. Felicia all
the time was watching me anxiously.

"You are not going to leave me?" she asked very softly.

I came to a standstill before her.

"No, Felicia," I said, "I am not going to leave you! But I want to
tell you this. I am going to try and find out for myself the things
which you will not tell me. No, you must not try to stop me!" I said,
anticipating the words which indeed had trembled upon her lips. "It
must be either that or farewell, Felicia. I cannot remain here and do
absolutely nothing. I want to find your uncle, and to have some sort
of an explanation from him, and I mean to do it."

She shook her head.

"There are others who are trying to find him," she said, "but I do not
think that they will succeed. The young man who was here the other
night, for instance."

"If I fail, I fail," I answered. "At any rate, I shall be doing
something. I must go back to my brother's to-night, Felicia, because I
have promised to stay with him. In a day or two I shall return to my
rooms here, and I shall do my best to find out the meaning of your
uncle's mysterious movements. It may seem impertinent to you to
interfere in anybody else's concerns. I cannot help it. It is for
your sake. The present position is impossible!"

"You are not staying here to-night?" she asked.

"To-night, no!" I answered. "I will let you know directly I return."

"There is one thing else, Capitaine Rotherby. Could you promise it to
me, I wonder?"

"I will try," I answered.

"Do not quarrel any more, if you can help it," she begged, "with
Louis!"

Her question forced a laugh from my lips. Quarrel with Louis, indeed!
What more could I do in that direction? Then I frowned, in temporary
annoyance. I hated to hear her speak of him as a person to be
considered.

"Louis is a venomous little person," I said, "but I certainly should
not quarrel with him more than I can help. I am, unfortunately, in his
debt, or I should have dealt with him before now."

I glanced at the clock and jumped up. It was very much later than I
had thought. She gave me her hands a little wistfully.

"I do not like to think of you here alone," I said. "I wish that I
could persuade you to engage a maid."

She shook her head.

"My uncle would not allow it," she said simply. "He says that servants
are always prying into one's concerns. Good night, Capitaine
Rotherby! Thank you so much for taking me out this evening. After all,
I cannot help feeling that it has been rather like the beginning of
this holiday."

I held her hands tightly in mine.

"When it really begins," I answered, "I shall try and make it a little
more interesting!"

I declined a taxicab and turned to walk back to my brother's hotel.
Certainly in the problem of these two people who had come so curiously
into my life there was very much to give me matter for thought. I
believed in the girl, and trusted her. More than that I did not dare
to ask myself! I should have believed in her, even if her uncle were
proved to be a criminal of the most dangerous type. But none the less
I could not help realizing that her present position was a singularly
unfortunate one. To be alone in a big hotel, without maid or chaperon,
herself caught up in this web of mystery which Louis and those others
seemed to have woven around her, was in itself undesirable and
unnatural. Whatever was transpiring, I was quite certain that her
share in it was a passive one. She had been told to be silent, and
she was silent. Nothing would ever make me believe that she was a
party to any wrong-doing. And yet the more I thought of Delora the
less I trusted him. At Charing Cross Station, for instance, his had
not been the anxiety of a man intrusted with a difficult mission. His
agitation had been due to fear,--fear abject and absolute. I had seen
the symptoms more than once in my life, and there was no mistaking
them. I told myself that no man could be so shaken who was engaged in
honest dealings. Even now he was in hiding,--it could not be called
anything else,--and the one person with whom I had come in touch who
was searching for him was, without a doubt, on the side of law and
justice, with at least some settled position behind him. Delora's
deportment was more the deportment of a fugitive from justice than of
a man in the confidence of his government.

Walking a little carelessly, I took a turn too far northward, and
found myself in one of the streets leading out of Shaftesbury
Avenue. I was on the point of taking a passage which would lead me
more in my proper direction, when my attention was attracted by a
large motor-car standing outside one of the small foreign restaurants
which abound in this district. I was always interested in cars, but I
noticed this one more particularly from the fact of its utter
incompatibility with its surroundings. It was one of the handsomest
cars I had ever seen,--a sixty to eighty horse-power Daimler,--fitted
up inside with the utmost luxury. The panels were plain, and the
chauffeur, who sat motionless in his place, wore dark livery and was
apparently a foreigner. I slackened my pace to glance for a moment at
the non-skidding device on the back tire, and as I passed on I saw the
door of the little restaurant open, and a tall _commissionnaire_
hurried out. He held open the door of the car and stood at attention.
Two men issued from the restaurant and crossed the pavement. I turned
deliberately round to watch them--vulgar curiosity, perhaps, but a
curiosity which I never regretted. The first man--tall and
powerful--wore the splendid dress and black silk cap of a Chinese of
high rank. The man who followed him was Delora. I knew him in a
second, although he wore a white silk scarf around his neck,
concealing the lower part of his face, and a silk hat pushed down
almost over his eyes. I saw his little nervous glance up and down the
street, I saw him push past the _commissionnaire_ as though in a
hurry to gain the semi-obscurity of the car. I stopped short upon the
pavement, motionless for one brief and fatal moment. Then I turned
back and hastened to the side of the car. I knocked at the window.

"Delora," I said, "I must speak to you."

The car had begun to move. I wrenched at the handle, but I found it
held on the inside with a grip which even I could not move. I looked
into the broad, expressionless face of the Chinaman, who, leaning
forward, completely shielded the person of the man with whom I sought
to speak.

"One moment," I called out. "I must speak with Mr. Delora. I have a
message for him."

The car was going faster now. I tried to jump on to the step, but the
first time I missed it. Then the window was suddenly let down. The
Chinaman's arm flashed out and struck me on the chest, so that I was
forced to relinquish my grasp of the handle. I reeled back, preserving
my balance only by a desperate effort. Before I could start in
pursuit, the car had turned into the more crowded thoroughfare, and
when I reached the spot where it had disappeared a few seconds later,
it was lost amongst the stream of vehicles.

I went back to the restaurant. It was like a hundred others of its
class--stuffy, smelly, reminiscent of the poorer business quarters of
a foreign city. A waiter in a greasy dress-suit flicked some crumbs
from a vacant table and motioned me to sit down. I ordered a Fin
Champagne, and put half-a-crown into his hand.

"Tell me," I said, "five minutes ago a Chinaman and another man were
here."

The man laid the half-crown down on the table. His manner had
undergone a complete change.

"Perhaps so, sir," he answered. "We have been busy to-night. I noticed
nobody."

I called the proprietor to me--a little pale-faced man with a black
moustache, who had been hovering in the background. He hastened to my
side, smiling and bowing. This time I did not ask him a direct
question.

"I am interested in the restaurants of this quarter," I said. "Some
one has told me that your dinner is marvellous!"

He smiled a little suspiciously. The word was perhaps unfortunate!

"I am bringing some friends to try it very soon," I said.

The waiter brought my Fin Champagne. I drank it and ordered a cigar.

"You have all sorts of people here," I remarked. "I noticed a
Chinaman--he was very much like the Chinese ambassador, by the
bye--leaving as I came in."

The proprietor extended his hands.

"We have people of every class, monsieur," he assured me. "One comes
and tells his friends, and they come, and so on. I believe that there
was a Chinese gentleman here to-night. One does not notice. We were
busy."

I paid my bill and departed. The _commissionnaire_ pushed open
the door, whistle in hand. He looked at me a little curiously. Without
doubt he had watched my attempt to speak to Delora. I drew a
half-sovereign from my pocket.

"Tell me," I said, "do you want to earn that?"

He was a German, with a large pasty face and a yellow moustache. His
eyes were small, and they seemed to contract with greed as they looked
upon the coin.

"Sir!" he answered, with a bow.

"Who was the Chinese gentleman with the splendid motor-car?" I asked.

The man spread out his hands.

"Who can tell?" he said. "He dined here to-night in a private room."