The Mischief-Maker Part 13

She nodded.

"It is a fine sort of ruin, after all. Not to trust is generally proof of a mean and doubting disposition."

"You are probably right, madame," he agreed. "Is it permitted to remind you that we have been together for some time and you have not yet enlightened me as to your reasons for seeking my acquaintance?"

"Can't you believe that it was a whim?" she asked.

"No!"

"Remember that I saw you when you were here before," she persisted.

"I have no recollection of having met you."

"Yet I can tell you nearly all that you did on that last visit of yours. You dined one night at the Emba.s.sy, one night at the Travelers'

Club with a party of four, one night with the Minister--Courcelles. You were two hours with him on the afternoon of the day you dined with him.

You managed to s.n.a.t.c.h an hour at the races and to lunch at the Pre Catelan on your way. You lunched, I believe, with Monsieur le Duc de St. Simon and his friends."

"Your knowledge of my movements," he declared, "is very flattering. It suggests an interest in me, I admit, but I have yet to be convinced that that interest is in any way personal."

She looked at him from under the lids of her eyes.

"What is it, Sir Julien, that you possess, then, which you fear that I might steal?"

He returned her gaze boldly. "I am a discarded Minister," he said. "I might reasonably be supposed to be suffering from a sense of wrong. Why should it not occur to a clever woman like you that it might be a favorable moment to obtain a little information concerning one or two political problems of some importance? Are you interested in such matters, madame?"

She leaned back in her seat and laughed. He sat and watched her.

Distinctly she was, in certain ways, the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. It was true that she was pale and that her neck was a trifle thin, but her face was so aristocratic and yet so piquant, the color of her eyes so delightful, her mouth so soft and yet so humorous. She laid her hand upon his arm.

"Oh! my dear, dear Englishman," she exclaimed, "Heaven indeed has sent you to me that I should not die of ennui! You do not know who I am--I, Madame Christophor?"

"I have no idea who you are," he a.s.sured her. "I have never seen you before. I know of no other name than the one by which I was told to ask for you."

She leaned a little closer to him.

"Come," she said, "you see me for what I am. I shall not rob you, I shall not drug you, I shall not try to tear secrets out of your throat by any medieval methods. We are neither of us of the order of those who seek adventures in vulgar fashion and expect always a vulgar termination. Can't we be friends for a time--companions? Paris is an empty city for me just now. And for you--you must avoid those whom you know. It follows that you must be lonely. Let me show you my Paris."

Julien looked steadfastly out at the country, at the flying hedges, the tall avenues of poplar trees in the distance, the clumsy farm wagon coming across the hayfield, the blue-petticoated women who marched by its side--anywhere to escape for a moment or two from her eyes. It was absurd that he should feel even this faint interest in her proposition!

It was only a month since the blow had fallen, only a month since the girl to whom he had been engaged had sent him away with a sigh and a little handshake. It was only a month since life lay in splinters around him. It was much too soon to feel the slightest interest in the things which she was proposing!

"Madame Christophor," he said, "you are very kind, but I tell you frankly that I should accept your proposition with more pleasure if you had been of my own s.e.x."

"You have become a woman-hater?"

"I cannot trust a woman," he answered coldly. "All the time I have the feeling of insecurity. I fear that it must sound ungallant if I tell you what is the sober truth--that your s.e.x for the present has lost all charm for me."

She closed her eyes. Perhaps from behind the mask of her still face she was laughing at him!

"Do you think I don't understand that a little?" she murmured. "Never mind, for to-night, at least, I will be s.e.xless. You can believe that I am a man. I think you will find that I can talk to you about most of the things that men know of. Politics we will leave alone. You would mistrust me at once. Art--I can tell you of our modern French painters; I can tell you about these two wonderful Russians who are painting in their studio here; I can tell you what to look for at the new exhibitions, what studios to visit--I can take you to them, if you will. Or old Paris--does that interest you? Have you ever seen it properly? I know my old Paris very well indeed. Or would you rather talk of books? There have been many years when I have done little else but read. Tell me that we may be companions for a time. You have nothing to lose, indeed, and I have so much to gain."

"Madame," Julien replied, "I do not trust you. You are doubtless an agreeable companion, and as such I am willing to spend a short time with you. This is an ungracious acceptance of your suggestion, but it is the best I am capable of."

She clapped her hands.

"It is something, after all," she declared, "and let me tell you this, my friend," she added, leaning over. "You have been frank with me. You have told me that you hated my s.e.x, that you distrusted us all. Very well, I will share your frankness. I will tell you this. Neither am I any friend of your s.e.x. I, too, have my grievance. I, too, have something in my heart of which I cannot speak, which, when I think of it, makes me hate every male creature that walks the earth. Perhaps with that in my heart and what you have in yours, we may meet and pa.s.s and meet again and pa.s.s, and do one another no harm. Is that finished?"

"By all means," he agreed.

Her expression changed.

"Come," she said, "now you shall see that I have begun my plots. I have brought you away from Paris into the country places. For what, I wonder? Are you terrified?"

"Not in the least," he a.s.sured her.

"Brave fellow! Perhaps when you know the truth, your heart will shake with fear. You are going to dine in a country restaurant."

"That does not terrify me in the least," he replied, smiling. "I think that it will be charming."

"It is a tiny place," she told him, "not very well known as yet; soon, I fear, likely to become fashionable. One sits at little tables on a lawn of the darkest green. If the sun shines, an umbrella of pink and white holland shades us. Quite close is the river and a field of b.u.t.tercups. There are flowers in the garden, and so many shrubs that one can be almost alone. And behind, an old inn. They cook simply, but the trout comes from the river, and it is cool."

"It sounds delightful," Julien admitted; "but, madame, indeed it is I who must be host."

She shook her head.

"On the contrary, it is by subtlety that I have brought you here and that I claim to be the giver of the feast. You see, you dine with me to-night. You must ask me back again. It is the custom of your country, is it not?"

He smiled. The automobile had turned in now up a short drive, and stopped before a long, low building. Down in the gardens they could see fairylights swinging in the faint breeze. A short man, with close-cropped hair and a fierce black moustache and imperial, came hastening out to greet them. When he recognized Madame Christophor, he bowed low.

"Monsieur Leon," she said, "I bring an Englishman to try your river trout. You must give me a table near that great tree of lilac that smells so sweetly. I order nothing--you understand? But you must remember that monsieur is English. He will want his champagne dry and his brandy very old. Is it not so, my friend? Now I will give you into charge of _monsieur le proprietaire_ here. He shall show you where you can drink a little _aperitif_, if you will. He shall show you, too, where to find me presently."

A trim maid came hurrying up and took possession of Madame Christophor.

Julien followed his guide into a small reception room, all pink and white.

"If monsieur desires to wash," the proprietor explained, "he pa.s.ses beyond there. And for an _aperitif?_"

"I will take anything you send me," Julien declared. "What is the name of this place, monsieur?"

"They call it the Maison Leon d'Or, monsieur," the man replied. "It is my own idea--a country house I purchased once for myself, but found it too far, alas! from Paris. In the fine weather we could, if we chose, have half Paris here. When the cold days come, there is n.o.body.

Monsieur permits?"

He departed and Julien strolled to the window. In the portion of the gardens over which he looked were smaller tables, set out simply for those who desired to take their coffee and liqueurs or _aperitif_ out of doors. Julien glanced out idly enough at the little group of people dotted about here and there. Then his face suddenly darkened. At a table within a few yards of where he stood were seated Foster and a man whose back was turned towards him.

Julien's first impulse was to retire out of sight, for the window was open and he himself imperfectly concealed by the muslin blind. Then, as he was on the point of retiring, he distinctly heard the sound of his own name. The two men were speaking in a low tone, but a slight breeze was blowing into the room. Julien stood still and listened. The man who was a stranger to him was speaking to Foster.

"The woman is first, it is true," he muttered. "She will pump him dry, no doubt. But what matter? She may even put him on his guard, but I say again, what matter? There is a price for everything, a price or--"

The man's voice died away and Julien heard nothing for some time. Then he saw Foster shake his head.

"Our service," Foster declared, "does not protect us in such a position. It does not allow us to go to extremes. I am supposed to be here to watch him, but I am really powerless. He might become your man or hers or any one else's. I could do nothing but report."