A Fascinating Traitor Part 33

"Yes!" cried Alan Hawke, his eyes growing wolfish, and he leaned over to his companion and whispered for a few moments. "That's the trick, Governor," nodded Jack Blunt, "You work on the double event. And--I get my money--play or pay?"

"Yes. Put up in good notes--only you are not to bungle!"

"Do you think I would fool around with a 'previous conviction' against me? The next is a lifer, and I've got to use the knife or a barker, if I run up against trouble, for I'll never wear the Queen's jewelry again!

I've sworn it!" The man's eyes were gleaming now like burning coals, "I'll do the grand, and then, take off my beard and change my garb! I look twenty years older in a stubble chin. I can watch them from the public at Rozel Pier. I used to do a neat little bit of cognac, silk, and cigar smuggling. I know every crag of Corbiere Rocks, every shady joint in St. Heliers, every nook of St. Aubin's Bay. Oh! I'm fly to the whole game!"

"Could you not get a good boat's crew there?" anxiously demanded Major Hawke.

"Ah! My boy! I am 'king high' with a set of daring fishermen, who can smell out every rock from Dover to Land's End; and, from Calais to Brest, in the blackest night of the channel, if it pays."

"Then, Jack, your fortune is made, if you stand in. We'll pull it off, in one way or the other. You've got an easy job for a man of your ability. I'll meet you at Granville! Now, get over to St. Heliers, and work the whole trick in your own way! Send me your secret address in Jersey at once to Hotel Faucon, Lausanne, and run over to the French coast at Granville and find a safe nest there for us. There we are within seventeen miles of each other, with two mails a day, and the telegraph. It's a wonderful plant, so it is."

"Yes, Governor! And old Etienne Garcia, at the 'Cor d'Abondance' in Granville, is the very slyest rogue in France. When you find a c.r.a.paud who is dead to rights, he is always an out and outer. I'll square you with my old pal, Etienne, who slyly makes 'floaters' and then gets the government cash reward for towing them in. He has always a half dozen pretty girls hanging around there, and many a good looking stranger has ended his 'tour' by a sudden drop through the flow of the drinking room over the wharf where Etienne keeps his 'boats to let.'"

"How does he do it?" mused Alan Hawke. "It's a risky game in France."

Jack Blunt laughed.

"A few puffs of smoke in a cognac gla.s.s, and the subject is knocked out for an hour after drinking from the nicotine-filmed crystal, bless you,"

laughed Blunt, "there's never a mark on Etienne's victims. He is too fine for that, only cases of plain, simple, 'accidental drowning.'

"You may as well address me as 'Joseph Smith, Jersey Arms, Rozel Pier, Jersey.' I am solid with Mrs. Floyd, the landlady there," said the scoundrel mobsman, anxious to spend some of his cash.

"All right, then, Jack! Go ahead!" cheerfully cried Major Hawke. "Don't overgo my instructions a single hair! I'll either join you in the grand stroke, or else meet you at Granville and there tell you what to do.

Remember that I'll settle all your Jersey bills, and I will send a post order for ten pounds extra to you at the 'Jersey Arms,' to give you a local standing with the postman.

"That you can spend on the underlings around the Banker's Folly, but beware of an old body servant named Simpson--an old red-coat who may turn up any day now from India! He was Johnstone's own man, and he hates me, at heart, I know! Now, if you can do the 'artist act,' you must find out where the old man keeps his stuff! I don't know yet whether we want him first or the girl; or to crack the whole crib! If we ever do, then, Simpson must get the--" Hawke grimly smiled, as he drew his hand across his throat! "I must be off!" he hastily said as he noted the time.

On his way over to Folkestone, Major Alan Hawke mused over his great coup, as he lay at ease, wrapped up in a traveling rug, and now resplendent in a fur-trimmed top coat, befrogged and laced, which indicated the officer en retraite.

"I will first do up Holland, Belgium, and Denmark, and take a little preliminary look around Paris," mused the Major, studying a list of the missing jewels which Captain Anstruther had artfully arranged. Sundry deductions and additions, with an admirable disorder in the items (judiciously divided and recla.s.sified) served to guard against any old confidences exchanged between Ram Lal and his secret friend Hawke. The real list in the original was now in the private pocket-book of the Viceroy.

"Each of our Consuls at the cities you are to visit has this list," said Anstruther to the Major, "and you can vary your travel as you choose, but visit all these jewel marts, and report to the local Consuls. If they have further orders for you, you will get them there, at first hands. Should you find that any of the jewels have been offered for sale, simply report the facts to the local Consul, and write under seal to me at the Junior United Service, then go on and examine further at once! You are to take no steps whatever to recover them, or to alarm the thieves! All your expenses and your pay will be advanced by me!" The acute schemer decided not to risk any suspicions by marketing his own jewels. "They might bounce me for the murder," fearfully mused the Major. "I could show no honest t.i.tle through Ram Lal. They might arrest him, and I need him to pay the protested drafts--later, when I go back on the Viceroy's staff!" He smiled and wove his webs like a spider in his den.

On his arrival in Paris, from a run to the Low Countries, a week later, Major Alan Hawke betook himself at once to No. 9 Rue Berlioz. And there Marie Victor greeted him, handing him a letter which was dated from Jitomir, Volhynia. "How is your mistress?" he affably demanded.

"She is well, and will remain for several months longer in Russia!"

politely answered Marie, bowing him out.

"By G.o.d, then, she has given up the chase! I see it all!" mused Hawke, as he pored over the letter on his way to the Hotel Binda. "The trump card she wished to play was to blast the old fellow's hopes of a baronetcy. Death has struck down her prey, and, she will now wait till the girl is free! She is too sly to face old Fraser; his brother has warned him. But she says she will need me in the winter, on her return."

The deceived scoundrel laughed. "The coast is left clear for me now!

I'll telegraph to Joseph Smith, run on to Geneva, deposit my own jewels there, in the agency of the Credit Lyonnais, and then return the notifications of protest of the Bills of Exchange to Ram Lal.

"I wonder if I can steal those jewels, get my Major's rank as a reward from the Viceroy, and marry the girl? It would be the luck of a life!"

he dreamed.

Two days later, on the terraces of Lausanne, he laughed over Jack Blunt's cheeky campaign.

"The 'artist dodge' worked to a charm," wrote Jack. "I used the Kodak, and I have a dozen good views of the house, and as many more of the grounds. My chapter on the 'Artistic Homes of Jersey,' will be a full one! I soon jollied a couple of the London maid servants into my confidence. By the way, send me, at once, another 'tenner' for expense, and some money for my own regular bills. I can make great play on the two frolicsome maids. They are up for a lark. The shy bird keeps her rooms; and there really seems to be no young man around. Devilish strange! A room is being got ready for the old body servant who is now on his way from India. He might fall over Rozel cliff some night, when half seas over! That's a natural ending for him! Maps, sketches, and all will be ready for you at the place we agreed. It's all lying ready to our hand, and ten minutes of a dark night is all I want. The old chap is always mooning alone in his study, till the midnight hours, over his books, and he has the whole ground floor to himself. The men are in the gardener's house, ten rods away, and all the women sleep upstairs.

He sees no one but a half crazy Yankee professor, who drops in of a morning. But, the shy bird keeps in her cage, and lives in great state, upstairs. More when you send the money."

On his way to say adieu to Justine, before departing to Vienna, Alan Hawke smiled grimly. "I can strike now, when I will, and as I will! But, first to race around a little, and then, having fulfilled my mission, to get a couple of weeks' furlough, to go about my own affairs. The coast is clear. Jack Blunt's plan is right. Simpson must be first put out of the way. He would fight like a rat on general principles."

At Rosebank Villa, Madame Alixe Delavigne was nightly busied now in official conferences with Major Harry Hardwicke, who had lingered in the concealment of Anstruther's home. The Captain found abundant time to prosecute his "official business" with his lovely aid in the secret service. And he had learned all of Alixe Delavigne's lessons now, save to acquire the patience to wait. But a growing alb.u.m of newspaper clippings was daily augmented by Frank Hatton's artfully disseminated items regarding "Prince Djiddin of Thibet," the first visitor of rank from that land of shadows. The warring journals who wrangled over the rich young visitor's "stern retirement" from all public intrusion referred to the political coup de main to be looked for in "the near future." From various parts of the United Kingdom, the mysterious princely visitor's trail was daily telegraphed, and a hearty laugh from all three of the conspirators of Rosebank Villa greeted the final article in the St. Heliers Messenger, stating that a learned Moonshee or Pundit, "the only Asiatic attendant of Prince Djiddin of Thibet" was arranging for a brief visit of a descendant of the Dalai-Lamas.

Anstruther and Hardwicke laughed merrily at Frank Halton's last graceful touches. "A romantic grat.i.tude to a retired British officer, who had once befriended the Prince's august father, was the one impelling cause of a visit, in which the strictest retirement would be guarded by the dweller on the Roof of the World," etc., etc. So read out Madame Delavigne, closing with the remark that the "Moonshee had already visited the Royal Victoria Hotel at St. Heliers to arrange for the coming of his friend, and to the regret of the authorities, the Prince would decline all the hospitality due to his exalted rank."

"Captain Murray must be even now at work," anxiously said the fair reader.

"We will hear at once," said Anstruther. "Prince Djiddin, you must now materialize! For Murray's letter tells me that he is already in full communication with Jules Victor at the Hotel Bellevue. So the 'Moonshee'

has one faithful friend near at hand. If there is any shadowing of either of you, Jules Victor is an invincible avant garde. He knows the faces of all the dramatis persona. You see, Douglas Fraser is gone to India and old Andrew has never seen any of our 'star actors.' We are absolutely safe!"

"It seems that fortune favors us," tremblingly said Alixe Delavigne.

"This prying and curious Yankee, Professor Hobbs, also seems to have fallen at once into the trap! Captain Murray's description of his 'interview,' at the Royal Victoria, with Alaric Hobbs, is a crystallized work of humorous art!"

"Of course the Yankee savant will write columns to the Waukesha Clarion, describing this Asiatic lion, Prince Djiddin, and exploit him in the States as an 'original discovery' of his own. His eagerness to arrange an interview between the Prince and Professor Fraser is most ludicrously fortunate for us," said Captain Anstruther.

The entrance of the butler with a telegram disturbed "Prince Djiddin"

and his lovely confidential staff officer. "An answer, please, Captain,"

formally continued the household factotum.

"Hurrah!" cried Hardwicke, when the little conclave gathered around the red light. "Simpson has arrived, and now Nadine and I have some one whom we can both trust!" The further information that the "Moonshee" would arrive forthwith to conduct "Prince Djiddin" to the safe haven where that fascinating bride, Mrs. Flossie Murray, awaited her beloved truant, was a call to prompt action. "I am ready! I shall drop the Royal Engineers and live up to my 'blue china' as a Prince!" cried Hardwicke.

CHAPTER XIV. THE COUNCIL AT GRANVILLE.

When Major Alan Hawke returned, three weeks later, to the Hotel Grand National, at Geneva, he was sorely wearied and dispirited. A round of inspection of all the princ.i.p.al jewel marts of the continent had been only a fruitless, solitary tourist promenade. And the ominous silence of Captain Anson Anstruther, A. D. C., boded no good to the military future of the adventurer. "d.a.m.n me, if I don't think that I have been hoodwinked!" growled Major Hawke, on his re-turn from Moscow and St.

Petersburg, whither he had been ordered, as a last resort, to see the Court jewelers.

From Warsaw, he wrote to the Hotel Faucon, at Lausanne, to send all his letters to meet him at Berlin, where Jack Blunt had given him the address of the safest "fence" in all Kaiser Wilhelm's broad domain. He had his own jewels valued there in Russia, but dared not sell them.

With a sudden inspiration, born of a growing fear for the stability of his house of cards, so flimsy in construction, he ran down to Jitomir, and the half-crazed adventurer only lingered an hour with the Intendant of Madame Alixe Delavigne's grand old domain. He found the bird flown.

Had he been duped? A permission to view the old chateau was courteously accorded, and then Alan Hawke soon realized that he was betrayed. For the fact that Madame was still absent, "traveling around the world," and had not visited her Volhynian estate for a year, proved to him now that he had been doubly tricked. "Ah! By G.o.d! I have it!" he cried, as he set his teeth in a white rage. "That fool, Anstruther, is bewitched by her Polish wiles, the mongrel inheritance of La Grande Armee's visit to Russia!" Straight as the crow flies, Alan Hawke then pressed on to Lemberg, and hastened to Berlin, having sent on his last official report to Captain Anstruther, at London. In Berlin, a letter from Jack Blunt decided his whole career. There was news of moment, which set his hot blood boiling in his veins.

"Simpson, the old body servant, has arrived from India," wrote the disguised ex-convict. "And he's mighty thick with your shy bird, too.

There is some strange game going on here, which I can't make out. The cute Yankee professor is furious, for old Fraser has temporarily given him the 'dead cut.' The American is totally neglected, for the old idiot spends half his time, now, shut up in his study with a visiting n.i.g.g.e.r prince from India, and the yellow fellow's half-breed interpreter. I send you a dozen cuttings from the papers. The Prince, however, seems to be all O. K. He never even notices the shy bird. He probably buys his women at home. How could he, for he does not speak a single d.a.m.ned word of English. But I've caught sight of this Moonshee fellow trying to do the polite to the heiress. Old Simpson keenly watches the whole goings on, and I've tried to pull him on! No go! But he sneaks off himself, gets roaring full, down at Rozel Pier, with a little French peddler fellow, that he has picked up. And, I don't like this French chap's looks. Too fly, and far too free with his money. There's no one else who has, as yet, showed up here. Not a woman, no other human being but a London lawyer. And I'm told now the guardian and niece are soon going over to London to deposit all the papers that Simpson brought home and to do 'a turn' at Doctor's Commons. Now's your very time--the dark of the moon. Better cut your job and come over to me at Granville; and why can we not turn the place up-while they are away? To do that, we must do Simpson 'for fair,' and I now know his nightly trail. Send money, plenty of it, and come on. I am 'on the beachcomber's lay,' now, down at the Jersey Arms, Rozel Pier. Write or telegraph me a line, and I'll instantly meet you at Granville, at the Cor d'Abondance."

A loving letter from Justine Delande inclosed a notice of a registered letter waiting at the Agence du Credit Lyonnais, Geneva. It is marked "Tres Important," she wrote, and then added: "I have received a letter from Nadine, who says that her guardian is now half crazy with excitement over the finishing of his 'History of Thibet, and Memoir Upon the Lost Ten Tribes,' for he has an Indian visitor of princely rank, and he even proposes to take this Prince Djiddin and his 'Moonshee' into the house, so as to shut the world out from the wonderful disclosures of the only visitor of rank who ever left Thibet."

Alan Hawke's brow was gloomy when he read the last letter, which was a brief note from Captain Anstruther, informing him that his final instructions would be forwarded "in a week." The ominous silence of "Madame Berthe Louison," the living lie of her pretended visit to Russia, the trick of the letters sent on from Jitomir to his Parisian address, now only confirmed his jealous rage.

"They are living in a fool's paradise together, this dapper aide and the wily woman, hiding in England! One has betrayed me, and the other will now coldly abandon me! I'll soon raise a hornets' nest about their ears!" So, with a simple telegraphed word "coming," dispatched to "Joseph Smith," he sped on to Geneva from his "Leipsic defeat" at Berlin, but only to meet a ghastly "Waterloo" at the Grand Hotel National. He had ordered the letters from the Hotel Faucon to be sent on there to Miss Justine, and when he had freed himself from her clasping arms he read a curt official note from the Viceroy's aid-de-camp which left him livid in a paroxysm of fury. On his way from the station he had only stopped long enough at the Agence du Credit Lyonnais to receive an official-looking doc.u.ment. "My accounts, I presume," he had muttered, thrusting them in his pocket. But, when he had read Captain Anstruther's formal note, he tore open the letter of the great French Banking Company. The two letters curtly ill.u.s.trated the old saw, that "it never rains, but it pours!" With a fluttering heart poor Justine Delande watched her undeclared lover's blackening face.