A Fool and His Money Part 30

"Another paper says that your fortune has been placed at his disposal in the fight he is making against the criminally rich Americans. In this particular article you are quoted as saying that I am a dreadful person and not fit to have the custody of a child."

"Good Lord!" I gasped helplessly.

"You also expect to do everything in your power to interest the administration at Washington in his behalf."

"Well, of all the--Oh, I say, Countess, you don't believe a word of all this, do you?"

She regarded me pensively. "You have said some very mean, uncivil things to me."

"If I thought you believed--" I began desperately, but her sudden smile relieved me of the necessity of jumping into the river. "By Jove, I shall write to these miserable sheets, denying every word they've printed. And what's more, I'll bring an action for damages against all of 'em. Why, it is positively atrocious! The whole world will think I despise you and--" I stopped very abruptly in great confusion.

"And--you don't?" she queried, with real seriousness in her voice.

"You don't despise me?"

"Certainly _not!_" I cried vehemently. Turning to p.o.o.pend.y.k.e, I said: "Mr. p.o.o.pend.y.k.e, will you at once prepare a complete and emphatic denial of every da--of every word they have printed about me, and I'll send it to all the American correspondents in Europe. We'll cable it ourselves to the United States. I sha'n't rest until I am set straight in the eyes of my fellow-countrymen. The whole world shall know, Countess, that I am for you first, last and all the time. It shall know--"

"But you don't know who I am, Mr. Smart," she broke in, her cheeks very warm and rosy. "How can you publicly espouse the cause of one whose name you refuse to have mentioned in your presence?"

I dismissed her question with a wave of the hand: "p.o.o.pend.y.k.e can supply the name after I have signed the statement. I give him carte blanche. The name has nothing to do with the case, so far as I am concerned. Write it, Fred, and make it strong."

She came up to me and held out her hand. "I knew you would do it," she said softly. "Thanks."

I bent low over the gloved little hand. "Don Quixote was a happy gentleman, Countess, with all his idiosyncrasies, and so am I."

She not only came for dinner with us on Sunday, but made the dressing for my alligator pear salad. We were besieged by the usual crowd of Sunday sight-seers, who came clamouring at our staunch, reinforced gates, and anathematised me soundly for refusing admission. One bourgeoise party of fifteen refused to leave the plaza until their return fares on the ferry barge were paid stoutly maintaining that they had come over in good faith and wouldn't leave until I had reimbursed them to the extent of fifty h.e.l.lers apiece, ferry fare. I sent Britton out with the money. He returned with the rather disquieting news that he had recognised two of Mr. Pless's secret agents in the mob.

"I wonder if he suspects that I am here," said the Countess paling perceptibly when I mentioned the presence of the two men.

"It doesn't matter," said I. "He can't get into the castle while the gates are locked, and, by Jove, I intend to keep them locked."

"What a delightful ogre you are, Mr. Smart," said she.

Nevertheless, I did not sleep well that night. The presence of the two detectives outside my gates was not to be taken too lightly.

Unquestionably they had got wind of something that aroused suspicion in their minds. I confidently expected them to reappear in the morning, perhaps disguised as workmen. Nor were my fears wholly unjustified.

Shortly after nine o'clock a sly-faced man in overalls accosted me in the hall.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Smart," he said in fairly good English, "may I have a word with you? I have a message from Mr. Pless." I don't believe he observed the look of concern that flitted across my face.

"From Mr. Pless?" I inquired, simulating surprise. Then I looked him over so curiously that he laughed in a quiet, simple way.

"I am an agent of the secret service," he explained coolly. "Yesterday I failed to gain admission as a visitor, to-day I come as a labourer.

We work in a mysterious way, sir."

"Is it necessary for Mr. Pless to resort to a subterfuge of this character in order to get a message to me?" I demanded indignantly.

He shrugged his shoulders.

"It was not necessary yesterday, but it is to-day," said he. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Our every movement is being watched by the Countess's detectives. We are obliged to resort to trickery to throw them off the scent. Mr. Pless has read what you had to say in the newspapers and he is too grateful, sir, to subject you to unnecessary annoyance at the hands of her agents. Your friendship is sacred to him. He realises that it means a great deal to have the support of one so powerful with the United States government. If we are to work together, Mr. Smart, in bringing this woman to justice, it must be managed with extreme skill or her family may--"

"What is this you are saying?" I broke in, scarcely able to believe my ears.

"I speak English so badly," he apologised. "Perhaps I should do no more than to give you his message. He would have you to meet him secretly to-night at the Rempf Hotel across the river. It is most important that you should do so, and that you should exercise great caution. I am to take your reply back to him."

For an instant I was fairly stupefied. Then I experienced a feeling of relief so vast that he must have seen the gleam of triumph in my eyes. The trick was mine, after all.

"Come into my study," I said. He followed me upstairs and into the room. p.o.o.pend.y.k.e was there. "This is my secretary, you may speak freely before him." Turning to p.o.o.pend.y.k.e, I said: "You have not sent that statement to the newspapers, have you? Well, let it rest for a day or two. Mr. Pless has sent a representative to see me." I scowled at my secretary, and he had the sense to hide his astonishment.

The fellow repeated what he had said before, and added a few instructions which I was to follow with care if I would do Mr. Pless the honour to wait upon him that evening at the Rempf Hotel.

"You may tell Mr. Pless that I shall be there at nine," said I. The agent departed. When he was safely out of the room, I explained the situation to p.o.o.pend.y.k.e, and then made my way through the secret panels to the Countess's rooms.

She was ready for the subterranean journey in quest of treasure, attired in a neat walking skirt, with her bonny hair encased in a swimming cap as a guard against cobwebs.

"Then you don't intend to send out the statements?" she cried in disappointment. "You are going to let every one think you are his friend and not mine?"

I was greatly elated. Her very unreasonableness was a prize that I could not fail to cherish.

"Only for the time being," I said eagerly. "Don't you see the advantage we gain by fooling him? Why, it is splendid--positively splendid!"

She pouted. "I don't feel at all sure of you now, Mr. Smart," she said, sitting down rather dejectedly in a chair near the fireplace. "I believe you are ready to turn against me. You want to be rid of me. I am a nuisance, a source of trouble to you. You will tell him that I am here--"

I stood over her, trying my best to scowl. "You know better than that.

You know I--I am as loyal as--as can be. Hang it all," I burst out impulsively, "do you suppose for a minute that I want to hand you over to that infernal rascal, now that I've come to--that is to say, now that we're such ripping good friends?"

She looked up at me very pathetically at first. Then her expression changed swiftly to one of wonder and the most penetrating inquiry.

Slowly a flush crept into her cheeks and her eyes wavered.

"I--I think I can trust you to--to do the right thing by me," she said, descending to a ba.n.a.lity in her confusion.

I held out my hand. She laid hers in it rather timidly, almost as if she was afraid of me. "I shall not fail you," said I without the faintest intention to be heroic but immediately conscious of having used an expression so trite that my cheek flamed with humiliation.

For some unaccountable reason she arose hastily from the chair and walked to the window. A similar reason, no doubt, held me rooted rather safely to the spot on which I stood. I have a vague recollection of feeling dizzy and rather short of breath. My heart was acting queerly.

"Why do you suppose he wants to see you?" she asked, after a moment, turning toward me again. She was as calm as a summer breeze. All trace of nervousness had left her.

"I can't even supply a guess."

"You must be very, very tactful," she said uneasily. "I know him so well. He is very cunning."

"I am accustomed to dealing with villains," said I. "They always come to a bad end in my books, and virtue triumphs."

"But this isn't a book," she protested. "Besides virtue never triumphs in an international marriage. You must come--to see me to-night after you return from town. I won't sleep until I've heard everything."

"I may be very late," I said, contriving to hide my eagerness pretty well, I thought.

"I shall wait for you, Mr. Smart," she said, very distinctly. I took it as a command and bowed in submission. "There is no one here to gossip, so we may be as careless as we please about appearances. You will be hungry, too, when you come in. I shall have a nice supper ready for you." She frowned faintly. "You must not, under any circ.u.mstance, spoil everything by having supper with _him._"

"Again I repeat, you may trust me implicitly to do the right thing,"