The Pawns Count Part 25

"Never doubt it," Fischer replied vehemently. "Before peace is signed the sea power of England will be broken. Financially she will be ruined. She is a country without economic science, without foresight, without statesmen. The days of her golden opportunities have pa.s.sed, frittered away. Unless we of our great pity bind up her wounds, England will bleed to death before the war is over."

"That, you must remember," Pamela said practically, "is your point of view."

"I could tell you things--" he began.

"Don't," she begged. "I know what your outlook is now. Be definite.

Leaving aside that other matter, what is your proposition to me?"

Fischer walked for a while in silence. They had turned back some time since, and were once more nearing the Plaza.

"You ask me to leave out what is most vital," he said at last. "I have never been married, Miss Van Teyl. I am wealthy. I am promised great honours at the end of this war. When that comes, I shall rest. If you will be my wife, you can choose your home, you can choose your t.i.tle."

She shook her head.

"But I am not sure that I even like you, Mr. Fischer," she objected.

"We have fought in opposite camps, and you have had the bad taste to be victorious. Besides which, you were perfectly brutal to James, and I am not at all sure that I don't resent your bargain with me. As a matter of fact, I am feeling very bitter towards you."

"You should not," he remonstrated earnestly. "Remember that, after all, women are only dabblers in diplomacy. Their very physique prevents them from playing the final game. You have brains, of course, but there are other things--experience, courage, resource. You would be a wonderful helpmate, Miss Van Teyl, even if your individual and unaided efforts have not been entirely successful."

She sighed. Pamela just then was a picture of engaging humility.

"It is so hard for me," she murmured, "I do not want to marry yet. I do not wish to think of it. And so far as you are concerned, Mr.

Fischer--well, I am simply furious when I think of your att.i.tude last night. But I love adventures."

"I will promise you all the adventures that can be crammed into your life," he urged.

"But be more definite," she persisted. "Where should we start? You are over here now on some important mission. Tell me more about it?"

"I cannot just yet," he answered. "All that I can promise you is that, if I am successful, it will stop the war just as surely as Captain Graham's new explosive."

"I thought you were going to make a confidante of me," she complained.

He suddenly gripped her arm. It was the first time he had touched her, and she felt a queer surging of the blood to her head, a sudden and almost uncontrollable repulsion. The touch of his long fingers was like flame; his eyes, behind their sheltering spectacles, glowed in a curious, disconcerting fashion.

"To the woman who was my pledged wife," he said, "I would tell everything. From the woman who gave me her hand and became my ally I would have no secrets. Come, I have a message, more than a message, to the American people. I am taking it to Washington before many hours have pa.s.sed. If it is your will, it should be you to whom I will deliver it."

Pamela walked on with her head in the air. Fischer was leaning a little towards her. Every now and then his mouth twitched slightly. His eyes seemed to be seeking to reach the back of her brain.

"Please go now," she begged. "I can't think clearly while you are here, and I want to make up my mind. I will send to you when I am ready."

CHAPTER XVII

Pamela sat that afternoon on the balcony of the country club at Baltusrol and approved of her surroundings. Below her stretched a pleasant vista of rolling greensward, dotted here and there with the figures of the golfers. Beyond, the misty blue background of rising hills.

"I can't tell you how peaceful this all seems, Jimmy," she said to her brother, who had brought her out in his automobile. "One doesn't notice the air of strain over on the Continent, because it's the same everywhere, but it gets a little on one's nerves, all the same. I positively love it here."

"It's fine to have you," was the hearty response. "Gee, that fellow coming to the sixteenth hole can play some!"

Pamela directed her attention idly towards the figure which her brother indicated--a man in light tweeds, who played with an easy and graceful swing, and with the air of one to whom the game presented no difficulties whatever. She watched him drive for the seventeenth--a long, raking ball, fully fifty yards further than his opponent's-- watched him play a perfect mashie shot to the green and hole out in three.

"A birdie," James Van Teyl murmured. "I say, Pamela!"

She took no notice. Her eyes were still following the figure of the golfer. She watched him drive at the last hole, play a chip shot on to the green, and hit the hole for a three. The frown deepened upon her forehead. She was looking very uncompromising when the two men ascended the steps.

"I didn't know, Mr. Lutchester, that there were any factories down this way," she remarked severely, as he paused before her in surprise.

For a single moment she fancied that she saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes. It was gone so swiftly, however, that she remained uncertain.

He held out his hand, laughing.

"Fairly caught out, Miss Van Teyl," he confessed. "You see, I was tempted, and I fell."

His companion, an elderly, clean-shaven man, pa.s.sed on. Pamela glanced after him.

"Who is your opponent?" she asked.

"Just some one I picked up on the tee," Lutchester explained. "How is our friend Fischer this morning?"

"I walked with him for an hour in the Park," Pamela replied. "He seemed quite cheerful. I have scarcely thanked you yet for returning the pocketbook, have I?"

His face was inscrutable.

"Couldn't keep a thing that didn't belong to me, could I?" he observed.

"You have a marvellous gift for discovering lost property," she murmured.

"For discovering the owners, you mean," he retorted, with a little bow.

"You're some golfer, I see, Mr. Lutchester," Van Teyl interposed.

"I was on my game to-day," Lutchester admitted. "With a little luck at the seventh," he continued earnestly, "I might have tied the amateur record. You see, my ball--but there, I mustn't bore you now. I must look after my opponent and stand him a drink. We shall meet again, I daresay."

Lutchester pa.s.sed on, and Pamela glanced up at her brother.

"Is he a sphinx or a fool?" she whispered.

"Don't ask me," Van Teyl replied. "Seems to me you were a bit rough on him, anyway. I don't see why the fellow shouldn't have a day's holiday before he gets to work. If I had his swing, it would interfere with my career, I know that, well enough."

"Did you recognise the man with whom he was playing?" Pamela inquired.

"Can't say that I did. His face seems familiar, too."

"Go and see if you can find out his name," Pamela begged. "It isn't ordinary curiosity. I really want to know."

"That's easy enough," Van Teyl replied, rising from his place. "And I'll order tea at the same time."