The Breath of the Gods Part 54

His words rang quick and clear. "We must think, now, like G.o.ds or demons for swiftness," he went on to Pierre. "Hagane will be with us at once!

How did you keep ahead? You must deny, _deny_! Don't you see, it compromises France?"

Pierre raised his eyes sleepily. "Hagane--come? No, Excellency! he did not see--"

"Madame will tell him, fool."

"Never! She will die first."

"Ah, allow me, then, to congratulate you," Ronsard permitted himself to sneer. Then swiftly, "You have been seen! The servants! The police--"

"Your Excellency," chattered Mouquin, darting a ghastly face through the door, "Prince Hagane is announced. He is coming down the hall--he is _here_!"

"I thought I heard footsteps. Hold him, just a moment." Ronsard rose to his feet. With a low whisper that stung with the lash of a knout he bent to Pierre. "Stand, you fool! And if you have never known what it is to be a man, try the feeling now! Hide the paper in your breast. There!

Smile, though your face crack!"

Pierre thrust the doc.u.ment into his coat and rose to greet Hagane, who entered calm, dignified, and stately, not a fold out of place, nor a hair ruffled. If any characteristic were intensified it was in deliberate tardiness of advance, an undue rigidity of self-restraint. He bowed deeply to Count Ronsard, ignoring, for the moment, the presence of the younger men.

"Your Excellency will be surprised, perhaps annoyed, at this unceremonious call. It concerns a personal matter which could not be delayed. There is nothing official, you understand. It lies between Monsieur Le Beau and myself." He turned now to Pierre with the slightest inclination of the head, and then bowed more deferentially to the flaccid Mouquin by the wall.

"Anything that brings your Highness is an honor," returned Ronsard, himself placing a chair for the great man.

Hagane seated himself with the same painstaking calm. As he did not speak, his host continued, with obvious effort at composure, "What does slightly surprise me, your Highness,--if you will allow me to say it,--is--er--your seeming so certain of finding Monsieur Le Beau here, when your efficient police have been searching--"

"Le Beau has been here for some time," put in Mouquin, who was so nervous that he should have been elsewhere.

Ronsard winced. A sombre fire flickered in Hagane's eyes. "And am I to infer that the efficient police, of whom his Excellency so kindly speaks, have failed to keep in touch with Monsieur's Legation?"

The two young men crossed glances of dismay. Quickly Hagane turned his eyes to Pierre's flushed face. Each moist curl burned it like a scar.

"And similarly, I suppose, I am mistaken in thinking that Monsieur Le Beau has but just arrived in great haste."

Before an answer could be found, footsteps and a timid knock made interruption. Mouquin craned his neck around to the aperture of the door, altering but slightly the position of his body.

"A servant says, Excellency, that the American minister, Mr. Todd, telephones from his Legation that he must see you immediately."

"Go, Mouquin, and stop him," said Ronsard, glibly. "Say I am out. But if he is already started wait for him at the door, and be careful to usher him into the small drawing-room, and keep him there till I come.

Conciliate him. Your conversation, you understand, is to be on the high C of flippancy."

In the short interval Pierre had regained self-control. "Lord Hagane, in what way can I serve you?" He made a great effort to be nonchalant.

Hagane leaned slightly toward Ronsard. "Perhaps you have heard, Excellency, that a few moments since, Monsieur Le Beau picked up, in my humble home, quite by accident, a private letter that I had carelessly let fall."

"A private letter!" Ronsard turned with well-feigned astonishment to his subordinate. "Oh, no! Monsieur Le Beau is the soul of honor!"

Pierre could not think how to weigh the naturalness of indignation against a gentlemanly magnanimity. "The prince is mistaken," he said weakly. "It must have been another man."

Without a flicker of anger or impatience Hagane, still facing the count, inquired, "Does the young man act with your authority?"

"Mon Dieu, your Highness! No. Monsieur Le Beau has a certain official connection--but in such a _private_ matter"--Spread hands and a shrug completed the thought.

"Were you not at my villa this morning?" Hagane had turned suddenly to Pierre.

What could the Frenchman say? "No," came the pliant lie.

"Come now, Prince Hagane!" began Ronsard, genially. "You see it's all a mistake. Forgive the boy his embarra.s.sment. He is ill. To accuse him of purloining a private letter! Mother of G.o.d! In France it means a duel--"

"Not purloining, your Excellency," corrected Hagane. "Taking by accident,--quite by accident. That is different. If our young friend was suffering from delirium he may have forgotten. Ask him to feel in his pocket."

"It's a d.a.m.nable lie, hatched for some personal reason," said Pierre.

Hagane slowly rose. It was as if bronze moved. Ronsard instinctively imitated him, watching closely. He was convinced, now, that Hagane knew; but could not guess his next move.

"My time is valuable to-day," said the j.a.panese, drawling a little. "I must speak with Monsieur Le Beau alone."

Blank silence fell on the group. Hagane looked from one to the other, a slight shade of contempt growing in his eyes. "Is Monsieur Le Beau afraid?" he asked politely. "I a.s.sure you, gentlemen, I am unarmed. Even so, he might feel safer with a knife, a pistol. I regret that mine is at home, or I would be pleased to lend it. Perhaps one of these gentlemen can accommodate you."

Pierre's face was growing white in a circle about his mouth. He stepped to Ronsard's desk, took out a revolver, a pearl and silver toy, and slammed it on the table between himself and Hagane.

"Go, your Excellency!" he said, with eyes on Ronsard. "I, too, desire private speech with him."

"Pierre! Pierre! remember France," cried Count Ronsard.

Hagane bowed to the speaker.

As Ronsard hesitated at the door, Mouquin pushed it open cautiously and brought in the coffee. "Not yet, Excellency," he said. Hagane waved his refusal of a proffered cup. Pierre poured himself three cups in succession, draining quickly each scalding draught.

Hagane bowed again to Ronsard. "Now," he said simply.

"Get out, Mouquin. Remember, Prince, the boy is ill."

"I can take care of myself," Pierre said, his boyish head thrown back.

Left alone the two men faced each other. Pierre leaned with one delicate hand on the table. Nervously exalted and chafed by silence he hurled words at his sombre opponent.

"If your time is really valuable you waste it, my Lord. I advise you to inquire elsewhere."

"Let us be seated," said Hagane, with a pleasant smile. Pierre, as at a physical thrust, went backward into a chair. "Now, shall we smoke?"

continued the other, his tone deepening in friendliness. Its suavity had the effect of smothering. Pierre fought it off with a rude weapon.

"Certainly, your Highness. Cigarettes or opium?"

"Ah! Do you keep the latter luxury?" inquired the prince, with interest.

"Have Frenchmen adopted this--vice--also?"

"I meant for you only," explained Pierre, foolishly.

"You must be a new-comer, unaware that I, myself, had the drug excluded from j.a.pan. You Christian Europeans had already forced it on China."

Pierre did not look up or try to answer. He felt his every move a false one. The steadying of the coffee did not come fast enough. He was in a hurry to get in some telling thrust. He must defend himself and Yuki.