A Diplomatic Woman Part 18

I half advanced, paused irresolute, and then drew back.

"You may precede me," I said. "I will again be candid. I do not trust you;" and I stood aside for him to pa.s.s, and took the handle of the door, which opened towards me, in my left hand.

He laughed quietly again, and turned and faced me.

"An excess of caution is bad diplomacy, madame," he said, "for it creates suspicion. If I did not know how impossible it was, I should think you still had designs upon the seal."

With another soft chuckle he pa.s.sed on and entered the doorway; and then like a flash, the instant his back was turned, I caught his silk embroidered robe in my right hand, and with my left flung to the door and locked it.

There was a guttural exclamation from within as he tried to tear his gown free, but my glance fell upon the Oriental knife that I had used before, and, holding the silk in my hand, with a slash I cut it through, and the seal, which lay in the corner of the deep pocket, was again in my possession.

Ling Wen was beating furiously upon the panels, so I took the precaution of locking the outer door as I departed, and descended the stairs, elated with a feeling of supreme contentment, for was not my promise to Monsieur Roche amply and well fulfilled?

MONSIEUR ROCHe'S DEFEAT

"_Mon ami_, you jest!"

"I never jest," Monsieur Roche snappishly replied. "Before the week is through Paris will have a sensation, the ministry will be defeated--more than defeated, disgraced. I have been deceived, miserably betrayed, and by the man I trusted most. A friend of yours, madame--Gaspard Levive."

"It is not true," I cried; and the blood mounted to my cheeks in anger, for truly Gaspard Levive was a friend of mine, one whom I delighted to call my greatest friend.

"It is only too true," Monsieur Roche gravely answered. "I am disgraced, and the young fool is ruined. At least not ruined," he bitterly continued: "doubtless he will be rewarded by the new ministry."

"If this be the prelude to a commission, monsieur, I refuse it."

"There is no commission, madame; the day is hopelessly lost. I have been betrayed by my own secretary."

We had met crossing the Place de la Concorde, and had stayed talking by the Luxor Obelisk, and now I deliberately obscured Monsieur Roche with my sunshade, and gazed up the vista of the Champs-Elysees to the Arc de Triomphe. Suddenly I turned, closed my parasol with a vicious snap, and looked angrily into his face.

"I accept the commission, monsieur; tell me all."

He placed his hand upon my arm.

"You are angry, _ma chere_, and so am I. You are wounded, and I am also.

Let it pa.s.s; there is no commission."

"Some mystery," I cried.

"No mystery and no solution; all is too wretchedly clear. You are anxious to defend Gaspard, so am I; but it is useless; he stands self-condemned, and we had best forget his very existence."

"Tell me," I said, stonily.

"He has stolen a doc.u.ment from my safe and sold it to those who can, who will, use it to disgrace and overthrow me."

"It is false."

"A month ago France was insulted--deliberately insulted in such a manner that it became almost a declaration of war. It was equivalent to a challenge for war, and yet one that we dare not take up. War to France would mean ruin. She would inevitably lose, and sink to the condition of a second-rate power."

"Well!"

"We decided we could not go to war. We must diplomatically ignore the slur, at least until we were more prepared; but it was a matter for France, and not for the ministry alone. If our course of action became known, it might be the first step towards revolution. There was no help for it, and I privately conferred with the head of the opposition, my greatest political enemy, Monsieur Desormes."

"One of the most unscrupulous men in France."

"One of the greatest diplomats."

"The terms are frequently synonymous, monsieur. Proceed."

"Wonderful to relate, he was with us. War was impossible--we dare not declare it, we must accept the distasteful position--but I insisted that his support of that policy should be given me in writing, that he should bind himself to an adhesion to our views, so that he could not withdraw; and he agreed, and wrote a confidential doc.u.ment in which he declared that he stood firm with us for peace. That doc.u.ment has been stolen from my safe by Gaspard Levive, and returned to Desormes, who now laughs in my face, sneeringly announcing that he will publicly charge my ministry with degrading France in the eyes of Europe, and crush us."

"You go too fast, monsieur; why stolen by Gaspard Levive?"

"Because he for a few hours had the key of my safe in his possession. It is he or I."

"I would sooner suspect you, monsieur."

"Last night I left my keys with him. This morning before I arrived he had a mysterious visitor, a woman--"

"Well, monsieur, what of that?"

"When I opened the safe the letter was gone, and a blank sheet of paper subst.i.tuted; that is all."

"And his explanation?"

"He refuses any. Declines even to say who the visitor was, or why she called."

"I see no case against him," I said, soberly, but my heart was chilling because of this unknown woman.

"That is not all," Monsieur Roche continued, "for I know who she was--the Countess Renaze, the closest friend of Mlle. Desormes, one of the most bewitching women in Paris, beautiful enough to tempt any man from his duty. I found this handkerchief with her monogram and crest in his room."

"Good-day, monsieur."

"Good-bye, _ma chere_; we've both made a mistake--good-bye."

I did not want to talk with my diplomatic friend; I did not want to talk with any one. I left him, and walked towards the Boulevard des Capucines, the words ringing in my ears, "We've both made a mistake." I hated myself, I hated diplomats, and I wondered if I was so wretched because Gaspard was false to France or because he had been false to me.

Then as I strolled, a little scene came back to my mind that I had witnessed that morning upon the platform of the Gare du Nord. The Countess Renaze was departing for London. I could see her now as she leaned from the carriage window. So it could not be she who had called upon Gaspard, and Monsieur Roche's reasoning was at fault in that particular. Why not in more than that; why not in all?

But my next thought condemned Gaspard almost beyond appeal, for I remembered that, as the train started, the Countess dropped her lace handkerchief from between her fingers, and, too late to hand it back, her friend, Mlle. Desormes, the daughter of Monsieur Roche's enemy, picked it up. It was she who had called upon Gaspard immediately afterwards, and had coaxed or tricked him into delivering the paper to her; and I, who would have given all to prove Gaspard's innocence, had found evidence to condemn him even more strongly.

I stopped in sudden surprise, for the man whom I would have avoided stood before me.

"You have heard I am ruined and disgraced," he said, for he could not but perceive the constraint in my manner.

"I have just left Monsieur Roche. How could you be so mad?"