The Firefly of France Part 2

"I am satisfied of several things," I retorted sharply, "but before I share them with you, will you kindly tell me your name?"

"My name is Ritter," he said with dignity. "I confess I fail to see what bearing--"

"Call it curiosity," I interrupted. "Doctor, favor me with yours."

The doctor peered at me over his gla.s.ses, hesitated, and then revealed his patronym. It was Swanburger, he informed me.

"But, my dear sir, what on earth--"

"Merely," said I, with conviction, "that this isn't an Allies' night. It is _Deutschland uber Alles_; the stars are fighting for the Teuton race.

Now, let's hear how you were christened," I added, turning to the house detective, who looked even less sunny than before if that could be.

"See here, whatcher giving us?" snarled that somewhat unpolished worthy.

"My name's Zeitfeld; but I was born in this country, don't you forget it, same as you."

"A great American personality," I remarked dreamily, "has declared that in the hyphenate lies the chief menace to the United States. And what's your name?" I asked the representative of law and order. "Is it Schmidt?"

"No, sir," he responded, grinning; "it's O'Reilly, sorr."

"Thank heaven for that! You've saved my reason," I a.s.sured him as I leaned against the wall and scanned the Germanic hordes.

"Mr. Ritter," said I, addressing that gentleman coldly, "when I am next in New York I don't think I shall stop with you. The atmosphere here is too hectic; you answer calls for help too slowly--calls, at least, in which a guest indiscreetly tells you that he has caught a German thief.

It looks extremely queer, gentlemen. And there are some other points as well--"

But there I paused. I lacked the necessary conviction. After all I was the average citizen, with the average incredulity of the far-fetched, the melodramatic, the absurd. To connect the head waiter's panic at my departure with the episode in my room, to declare that the floor clerks had been called from their posts for a set purpose, and the halls deliberately cleared for the thief, were flights of fancy that were beyond me. The more fool I!

By the time I saw the last of the adventure I began that night--it was all written in the nth power, and introduced in more or less important roles the most charming girl in the world, the most spectacular hero of France, the cleverest secret-service agent in the pay of the fatherland, and I sometimes ruefully suspected, the biggest imbecile of the United States in the person of myself--I knew better than to call any idea impossible simply because it might sound wild. But at the moment my education was in its initial stages, and turning with a shrug from three scowling faces, I led my friendly bluecoat a little aside.

"I've no more time to-night to spend thief-catching, Officer," I told him. I had just recalled my dinner, now utterly ruined, and Dunny, probably at this instant cracking walnuts as fiercely as if each one were the kaiser's head. "But I'm an amateur in these affairs, and you are a master. Before I go, as man to man, what the d.i.c.kens do you make of this?"

Flattered, he looked profound.

"I'm thinking, sorr," he gave judgment, "ye had the rights of it. Seein'

as how th' thafe is German, ye'll not set eyes on him more--for divil a wan here but's of that counthry, and they stick together something fierce!"

"Well," I admitted, "our thoughts run parallel. Here is something to drink confusion to them all. And, O'Reilly, I am glad I'm going to sail to-morrow. I'd rather live on a sea full of submarines than in this hotel, wouldn't you?"

Touching his forehead, he a.s.sented, and wished me good-night and a good journey; part of his hope went unfulfilled, by the way. That ocean voyage of mine was to take rank, in part at least, as a first-cla.s.s nightmare. The Central powers could scarcely have improved on it by torpedoing us in mid-ocean or by speeding us upon our trip with a cargo of clock-work bombs.

CHAPTER III

ON THE RE D'ITALIA

The sailing of the _Re d'Italia_ was scheduled for 3 P.M. promptly, but being well acquainted with the ways of steamers at most times, above all in these piping times of war, it was not until an hour later than I left the St. Ives, where the manager, by the way, did not appear to bid me farewell.

The thermometer had been falling, and the day was crisp and snappy, with a light powdering of snow underfoot and a blue tang and sparkle in the air. Dunny accompanied me in the taxicab, but was less talkative than usual. Indeed, he spoke only two or three times between the hotel and the pier.

"I say, Dev," was his first contribution to the conversation, "d' you remember it was at a dock that you and I first met? It was night, blacker than Tophet, and raining, and you came ash.o.r.e wet as a rag. You were the lonesomest, chilliest, most forlorn little tike I ever saw; but, by the eternal, you were trying not to cry!"

"Lonesome? I rather think so!" I echoed with conviction. "Wynne and his wife brought me over; he played poker all the way, and she read novels in her berth. And I heard every one say that I was an orphan, and it was very, very sad. Well, I was never lonely after that, Dunny." My hand met his half-way.

The next time that he broke silence was upon the ferry, when he urged on me a fat wallet stuffed with plutocratic-looking notes.

"In case anything should happen," ran his muttered explanation. I have never needed Dunny's money,--his affection is another matter,--but he can spare it, and this time I took it because I saw he wanted me to.

As we approached the Jersey City piers, he seemed to shrink and grow tired, to take on a good ten years beyond his hale and hearty age. With every glance I stole at him a lump in my throat grew bigger, and in the end, bending forward, I laid a hand on his knee.

"Look here, Dunny," I demanded, not looking at him, "do you mean half of what you were saying last evening--or the hundredth part? After all, there'll be a chance to fight here before we're many months older. If you just say the word, old fellow, I'll be with you to-night--and hang the trip!"

But Dunny, though he wrung my hand gratefully and choked and glared out of the window, would hear of no such arrangement, repudiated it, indeed, with scorn.

"No, my boy," he declared. "I don't say it for a minute. I like your going. I wouldn't give a tinker's dam for you, whatever that is, if you didn't want to do something for those fellows over there. I won't even say to be careful, for you can't if you do your duty--only, don't you be too all-fired foolhardy, even for war medals, Dev."

"Oh, I was born to be hanged, not shot," I a.s.sured him, almost prophetically. "I'll take care of myself, and I'll write you now and then--"

"No, you won't!" he snorted, with a skepticism amply justified by the past. "And if you did, I shouldn't answer; I hate letters, always did.

But you cable me once a fortnight to let me know you're living--and send an extra cable if you want anything on earth!"

The taxi, which had been crawling, came to a final halt, and a hungry horde, falling on my impedimenta, lowered them from the driver's seat.

"No, I'll not come on board, Dev," said my guardian. "I--I couldn't stand it. Good-by, my dear boy."

We clasped hands again; then I felt his arm resting on my shoulder, and flung both of mine about him in an old-time, boyish hug.

"_Au revoir_, Dunny. Back next year," I shouted cheerily as the driver threw in his clutch and the car glided on its way.

Preceded by various porters, I threaded my way at a snail's pace through the dense crowd of waiting pa.s.sengers, swarthy-faced sons of Italy, apparently bound for the steerage. The great gray bulk of the _Re d'Italia_ loomed before me, floating proudly at her stern the green, white, and red flag blazoned with the Savoyard shield.

"Wave while they let you," I apostrophized it, saluting. "When we get outside the three-mile limit and stop courting notice, you'll not fly long."

At the gang-plank I was halted, and I produced my pa.s.sport and exhibited the _vise_ of his excellency, the Italian consul-general in New York.

I strolled aboard, was a.s.signed to Cabin D, and informed by my steward that there were in all but five first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers, a piece of news that left me calm. Stodgy I may be,--it was odd how that term of Dunny's rankled,--but I confess that I find chance traveling acquaintances boring and avoid them when I can. Unlike most of my countrymen, I suppose I am not gregarious, though I dine and week-end punctiliously, send flowers and leave cards at decorous intervals, and know people all the way from New York to Tokio.

My carefully limited baggage looked lonely in my cabin; I missed the paraphernalia with which one usually begins a trip. Also, as I rummaged through two bags to find the cap I wanted, I longed for Peters, my faithful man, who could be backed to produce any desired thing at a moment's notice. When bound for Flanders or the Vosges, however, one must be a Spartan. I found what I sought at last and went on deck.

The scene, though cheerful, was not lacking in wartime features: A row of life-boats hung invitingly ready; a gun, highly dramatic in appearance, was mounted astern, with every air of meaning business should the kaiser meddle with us en route. Down below, the Italians, talking, gesticulating, showing their white teeth in flashing, boyish smiles, were being herded docilely on board, while at intervals one or another of the few promenade-deck pa.s.sengers appeared.

The first of these, a shrewd-faced, nervous little man, borrowed an unneeded match of me and remarked that it was cold weather for spring.

The next, a good-looking young foreigner,--a reservist, I surmised, recalled to the Italian colors in this hour of his country's need,--rather harrowed my feelings by coming on board with a family party, gray-haired father, anxious mother, slim bride-like wife, and two brothers or cousins, all making pathetic pretense at good cheer. Soon after came a third man, dark, quiet, watchful-looking, and personable enough, although his shoes were a little too gleamingly polished, his watch and chain a little too luminously golden, the color scheme of his hose and tie selected with almost too much care.

"This," I reflected resignedly, "is going to be a ghastly trip. By Jove, here comes another! Now where have I seen her before?"

The new arrival, as indicated by the p.r.o.noun, was a woman; though why one should tempt Providence by traveling on this route at this juncture, I found it hard to guess. Standing with her back to me, enveloped in a coat of sealskin with a broad collar of darker fur, well gloved, smartly shod, crowned by a fur hat with a gold c.o.c.kade, she made a delightful picture as she rummaged in a bag which reposed upon a steamer-chair, and which, thus opened, revealed a profusion of gold mountings, bottles and brushes, hand-chased and initialed in an opulent way.

There was a haunting familiarity about her. She teased my memory as I strolled up the deck. Then, snapping the bag shut, she turned and straightened, and I recognized the girl to whose door my thief-chase had led me at the St. Ives.