The Mischief-Maker Part 10

Julien smiled.

"Perhaps because it was a matter of moment to him whether you replied or not, whereas, frankly, I only ask you these questions out of the idlest curiosity."

"Also a little," she remarked, "to make conversation, is it not so?

Very well, then, Sir Julien Portel, let me tell you this. If you do not know who that young man is, I do not wonder that you find it necessary to catch the nine o'clock train to the Continent to-night and to give up that delightful work of yours, where you try to keep the peace between all these wicked nations, and to get the lion's share of everything for your great, greedy country. If you do not know who that young man is, you have not the head for detail, the memory, which goes to the making of politicians."

Julien leaned back in his chair and laughed, softly but genuinely. Even Kendricks seemed a little taken aback.

"Upon my word!" the latter exclaimed. "This is an interesting young person! Mademoiselle, I congratulate you. You have the gifts."

"Interesting, indeed!" Julien agreed, sitting up in his place.

"Mademoiselle, to save my reputation with you I must confess. I do know who the young man is. He is in the Intelligence Branch of the Secret Service of the British Foreign Office--Number 3 Department."

The girl nodded several times.

"What you call it I do not know," she said. "He is just one of those ordinary people who go about to collect little items of information for your Government. That is why I have received from him four pounds of chocolate, at least a sovereign's worth of roses, four stalls for the theatre--which I do believe that he had given to him because they were for plays that no one goes to see, and to-night a dinner--such a dinner, messieurs, with chianti that burned my tongue!"

"This," Kendricks declared, "is quite a bright young lady!

Mademoiselle, I trust that we shall become better acquainted."

"And in the meantime," Julien inquired, "what are these wonderful items of information which you carry with you, and which this unfortunate young man fails so utterly to elicit?"

"Ah! well," she sighed, "I am by profession a manicurist, but some freak of nature gave me the power of keeping my mouth closed, of looking as though I knew a good deal, but of saying so little. Now, messieurs, what could a poor girl know in the way of secrets for which that young man would get credit if he had succeeded in eliciting them?

What could I know, indeed? I sit on my little stool and sometimes there are great people who give me their hands, and they are thoughtful. And sometimes I ask questions and they answer me absently, because, after all, what does it matter?--a manicurist from the shop downstairs, earning her thirty shillings a week, and anxious to be agreeable for the sake of her tip! And then sometimes while I am there they dictate letters, or a caller comes, or the telephone rings. One does not think of the manicure girl at such a time. Fortunately, there are some like me who know so well how to keep silent, to say nothing, to be dumb."

"The methods of that young man," Kendricks a.s.serted, "were crude. Now, young lady, consider my position. I represent a power greater than the power of Governments. I represent a Press which is greedy for personal news. Have you trimmed lately the nails of a d.u.c.h.ess? If so, tell me what she wore, her favorite oath, any trifling expression likely to be of interest to the British public! And instead of roses I will send you carnations; instead of dead-head tickets I will take you myself to the _Gaiety_; instead of a dinner at the Cafe l'Athenee, I will take you to supper at the Milan."

"Your friend," mademoiselle declared, smiling at Julien, "is quite an intelligent person. I like him very much. But I wish he would not smoke that pipe and I should like to buy him a necktie."

"Julien," Kendricks sighed, "the Bohemian has no chance against such a model as you."

"I do not think," she remarked, looking Julien in the eyes, "that Sir Julien Portel cares very much for women--just now, at any rate."

Julien frowned. He absolutely declined to answer the challenge in her dark eyes.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "when I present myself to this Madame Christophor, do I deliver any message from you? Do I explain my visit?"

The girl shook her head slowly.

"It will not be necessary," she told him. "Madame Christophor will know all about you. She will be expecting you."

He smiled scornfully.

"It would be a pity to disappoint a lady with such a remarkable knack of foretelling things. Supposing, however, I change my mind and visit St. Petersburg instead?"

She raised her hands--an expressive gesture.

"There is no Madame Christophor in St. Petersburg. I think that you will be very ill-advised if you go there. Many of the elements which go to the making of life wait for you in Paris. In St. Petersburg you would be a stranger. The life is not there."

She rose to her feet briskly.

"Good night, Monsieur le Bohemian!" she said. "Remember that you have only to accept my little gift of a necktie, to let me take you to a coiffeur whom I know of, and I will dine with you when you choose. Good night, Sir Julien! I think I envy you."

Julien laughed. The idea seemed odd to him.

"I fancy you would be in a minority, mademoiselle," he declared.

"At least," she reminded him, "you are going to see Madame Christophor!"

She nodded and left them a little abruptly. Kendricks paid their bill and they descended into the street a few minutes later. The _commissionaire_ called a taxi for them and they drove toward Charing-Cross.

"My friend," Kendricks said, "if I had you here for another week, cut off from your old life, I'd show you some things that would astonish you. It's good fortune and these well-ordered ways that keep a man a prig, even after he's finished with Oxford. The man who lives in the clouds of Mayfair knows nothing of the real life of this city."

"Some day I'll come back and be your pupil," Julien promised. "You're a good fellow, David. You've given me something to think about, at any rate, something to think about besides my own misfortunes."

"That's just what I set out to do," Kendricks declared. "There are plenty of bigger tragedies than yours loose in the world. Watch the people, Julien--the people whom such men as you glance over or through as of no account, the common people, the units of life. Strip them bare and they aren't so very different, you know. Try and feel for a moment what they feel. Look at the little dressmaker there, going over to Paris to buy models, hanging on to her husband's arm. She's probably got a shop in the suburbs and this trip is a daring experiment. See how earnestly they are talking about it. I don't think that they have too easy a time to make ends meet. Do you see that old lady there, clinging to her daughter? How she hates to part with her! She is going to a situation, without a doubt, and Paris isn't too easy a place for a girl with hair and eyes like hers. In her heart I think that the old lady is remembering that. Then look at that little old man with the tired eyes, carrying his two valises himself to save the hire of a porter. Can't you tell by the air of him that he has had an unsuccessful business journey? Poor fellow! It's a hard struggle for life, Julien, if you get in the wrong row. You've no one dependent upon you, you don't know the worst agony that can wring a man's heart.... Got your ticket and everything, eh? And that looks like your servant. Are you taking him with you?"

Julien shook his head.

"I shall have to do without a manservant. I never had much money, you know, David."

"So much the better," Kendricks declared heartily. "It gives you a final chance. The gutters of the world are full of good fellows who have been ruined through stepping into a sufficient income."

They found a carriage and arranged Julien's few belongings. Presently mademoiselle's companion came hurrying up the platform, followed by a porter carrying his dressing-case. A short distance behind, mademoiselle, too, was walking, humming to herself.

"Company to Boulogne for you, Julien," Kendricks pointed out. "Your little man from Number 3 Branch is on your track."

Julien smiled. The young man never glanced towards their carriage as he pa.s.sed, but mademoiselle, who was still a few steps behind, made a wry face at Kendricks.

"I believe she knew that he was going across," the latter declared.

"I wonder if he, too," Julien murmured, "has to call on Madame Christophor?"

The whistle sounded. Kendricks put out his great hands.

"Good luck to you, Julien, old fellow!" he said. "Stand up to life like a man and look it in the face. I tell you I haven't been ga.s.sing to-night. I'd hate to pose as a moralist, but I do believe that misfortunes are often blessings in disguise. And I tell you I've a sort of faith in that little French girl. She gives one to think, as she herself remarked. Look up Madame Christophor. Don't be surprised to see me at any moment. I generally turn up in Paris every few weeks or so.

Good luck to you!"

Julien leaned out of the window and waved his hand to Kendricks as the train moved slowly around the curve. The last face he saw upon the platform, however, was the face of mademoiselle.

CHAPTER VIII

IN PARIS