The Pawns Count Part 43

"Absolutely."

"Nikasti?"

"Precisely! He came all the way from j.a.pan to confer with Fischer.

Probably, if we knew the whole truth, those rooms at the Plaza Hotel, and the social partnership of your brother and Fischer, were arranged for no other reason than to provide a safe personality for Nikasti in this country, and a safe place for him to talk things over with Fischer."

"Mr. Fischer was paying nearly the whole of the expenses of the Plaza suite," Pamela observed thoughtfully.

"Naturally," Lutchester replied. "Your brother's name was a good, safe name to get behind. But to conclude with our friend Nikasti. He is supposed to leave New York next Sat.u.r.day, and to carry to the Emperor of j.a.pan an autograph letter from a nameless person, promising him, if j.a.pan will cease the export of munitions to Russia, the aid of Germany in her impending campaign against America."

"An autograph letter, did you say?" Pamela almost gasped.

"An autograph letter," Lutchester repeated firmly. "Now don't you agree with me that Fischer's game is just a little too daring?"

"It is preposterous!" she cried.

"I have a theory," Lutchester continued, "that Fischer was never intended to use more than one of these letters. It was intended that he should study the situation here, approach one side, and, if unsuccessful, try the other. Fischer, however, conceived a more magnificent idea. He seems to be trying both at the same time. It is the sublime egotism of the Teutonic mind."

"It is monstrous!" Pamela exclaimed indignantly.

"It is almost as monstrous," Lutchester agreed, "as his daring to raise his eyes to you, although, so far as you are concerned, I believe that he is as honest as the man knows how to be."

"And why," she asked, "do you credit him with so much good faith?"

"Because," Lutchester replied, "if he had not been actuated by personal motives, he would never have sought you out as an intermediary. There are other sources open to him, by means of which he could make equally sure of reaching the President's ear. His idea was to impress you. It was foolish but natural."

Pamela was deep in thought. There was an angry spot of colour burning in her cheek.

"Do you mean to tell me, Mr. Lutchester," she persisted, "that this afternoon, say, when with every appearance of earnestness he was begging me to put these propositions before my uncle, he had really made precisely similar overtures to j.a.pan?"

"I give you my word that this is the truth," Lutchester a.s.sured her solemnly.

She looked at him with something almost like wonder in her eyes.

"But you?" she exclaimed. "How do you know this? How can you be sure of it?"

"I have seen the autograph letter which Nikasti has in his possession,"

he announced.

"You mean that Mr. Fischer showed it to you?" she exclaimed incredulously.

Lutchester hesitated.

"There are methods," he said, "which those who fight in the dark places for their country are forced sometimes to make use of. I have seen the letter. I have half convinced those who represent j.a.pan in this matter of Fischer's duplicity. With your help I am hoping wholly to do so."

Pamela leaned for a moment back in her chair.

"Really," she declared, "I am beginning to have the feeling that I am living almost too rapidly. Let us have a breathing spell. I wonder what all these other people are talking about."

"Probably," he suggested, with a little glance around, "about themselves. We will follow their example. Will you marry me, please, Miss Van Teyl?"

"We haven't even come to the ice yet," she sighed, "and you pa.s.s from high politics to flagrant personalities. Are you a sensationalist, Mr.

Lutchester?"

"Not in the least," he protested. "I simply asked you an extremely important question quite calmly."

"It isn't a question that should be asked calmly," she objected.

"I have immense self-control," he told her, "but if you'd like me to abandon it--"

"For heaven's sake, no!" she interrupted. "Tell me more about Mr.

Fischer."

"You won't forget to answer my little question later on, will you?" he begged. "To proceed, then. I spent some little time this afternoon with your chief of the police here, and I fancy that the person you speak of is becoming a little too blatant even for a broad-minded country like this. He belongs to an informal company of wealthy sympathisers with Germany, who propose to start a campaign of destruction at all the factories manufacturing munitions for the Allies. They have put aside--I believe it is several million dollars, for purposes of bribery. They don't seem to realise, as my friend pointed out to me this afternoon, that the days for this sort of thing in New York have pa.s.sed. Some of them will be in prison before they know where they are."

"Exactly why did you come to America?" she asked, a little abruptly.

"To meet Nikasti and to look after Fischer."

"Well, you seem to have done that pretty effectually!"

"Also," he went on calmly, "to keep an eye upon you."

"Professionally?"

"You ask me to give away too many secrets," he whispered, leaning towards her.

She made a little grimace.

"Tell me some more about your little adventure in Fifth Avenue?" she begged.

He smiled grimly.

"You wouldn't believe me," he reminded her, "but it really was one of Fischer's little jokes. It very nearly came off, too. As a matter of fact," he went on, "Fischer isn't really clever. He is too obstinate, too convinced in his own mind that things must go the way he wants them to, that Fate is the servant of his will. It's a sort of national trait, you know, very much like the way we English bury our heads in the sand when we hear unpleasant truths. The last thing Fischer wants is advertis.e.m.e.nt, and yet he goes to some of his Fourteenth Street friends and unearths a popular desperado to get rid of me. The fellow happens most unexpectedly to fail, and now Fischer has to face a good many awkward questions and a good deal of notoriety. No, I don't think Fischer is really clever."

Pamela sighed.

"In that case, I suppose I shall have to say 'No' to him," she decided.

"After waiting all this time, I couldn't bear to be married to a fool."

"You won't be," he a.s.sured her cheerfully.

"More British arrogance," she murmured. "Now see what's going to happen to us!"

A tall, elderly man, with smooth white hair plastered over his forehead, very precisely dressed, and with a gait so careful as to be almost mincing, was approaching their table. Pamela held out her hands.

"My dear uncle!" she exclaimed. "And I thought that you and aunt never dined at restaurants!"