CHAPTER XIII
NEWS
The atmosphere of the little study, or library, or whatever it wascalled, in which Ruxton carried on the private work of his politicalcalling, in the diminutive house in Smith Square, Westminster, wasredolent with that delightful suggestion of the old world so dear tothe collector's heart.
Its owner was a collector by instinct and training. He had been broughtup to the study of old-world art, and had learned to appreciate thebeauties of all those delicate and priceless specimens which are thehandicraft of bygone genius. But he was no keeper of a museum. Hislittle home in the purlieus of Westminster was a storehouse of beautyand charm. Every piece of furniture, every tapestry, every rug, everymetal gem was full of significance and harmony with its setting. Notone detail of this home but had cost him hours of thought andconsideration, and the result was all he asked, a perfectly harmoniouswhole, a creation of all that made for undemonstrative artistry in hisnature.
Just now even the dying early autumn sun seemed graciously disposedtowards it. It was peeping in through the old Georgian windows andsearching out the mellow beauties of the study. Its softened toneseemed to somehow belong to the picture it discovered within. Thedelicate tracery of the deep, ruddy mahogany furnishings, the design ofwhich must have given hours of delight to the artist soul ofChippendale; the softened tints of the ancient Persian rugs upon thecrazily uneven flooring; the exquisite carving of the oaken panels andthe delicate pictures of the hanging tapestries above them,--all thesebeauties seemed to belong to a time of softened light which comes withthe ageing of the year.
The calm delight of it all resisted even the touch of a modern figuresuddenly appearing in its midst. Ruxton's modern blue serge suit andsoft felt hat might have been an anachronism, but it gave no seriousoffence. He entered the room and glanced swiftly and appreciativelyupon his treasured friends. Then he laid his hat aside, took his seatat his desk and prepared to attend to some work he had on hand.
But, for once, inclination proved stronger than purpose. He sat back inthe ample chair, such as an elderly ancestor might have revelled in,lit a cigar, and, for some idle minutes, all effort was abandoned infavor of the relaxed dreaming of a brain accustomed to high pressure.
It was the late afternoon of a long day spent in endless interviews inthe world of the officialdom to which he belonged here in London. Buthis interviews had had little enough to do with the more commonplaceaffairs of State. His portfolio in the Cabinet, which left himresponsible for the affairs of the Duchy of Lancaster, also left himwith ample time to carry out those other plans which he believed wereto have so great a significance in his country's future.
His day had been spent in completing the negotiations whereby, for aconsiderable period, certain portions of the great ship-building yardsat Dorby were to be adopted and controlled by the Admiralty. It had notbeen easy to stir the machinery of departments, and only had it beenmade possible by invoking the efforts of the Prime Minister, SirMeeston Harborough, and the Foreign Secretary, the Marquis ofLordburgh, with both of whom he had already established a confidentialunderstanding. Admiral Sir Joseph Caistor was purely a naval man, abrilliant officer, but as yet intolerant of desecrating the traditionsof his department by confusing it with civilian controlledestablishments.
However, the last obstacle had been finally surmounted, and, with itspassing, he discovered the real depths of his anxiety. A strongconviction of impending action by the German Government had taken holdof him without his being fully aware of it. He had been oppressed byit. And now, at last, he experienced a deep sense of relief that thecloak of naval secrecy and protection was to be spread out over the newconstruction upon which he and his father had embarked.
He sat thus reviewing these things and smoking leisurely, in the mannerof a satisfied man. He knew he ought to attend to his letters and thengo on down to the House, which was now sitting. But he had no intentionof doing so. There was no debate of importance going on, and he had nodesire to listen to the silly twaddle of a number of men whosequalifications as legislators would have been insufficient to achievefor them squatting room on a council of Red Indians, and whose mindshad no other conception of greatness than the limelight of a halfpennypress.
It was five weeks since his return from Borga. Five weeks of hard,rushing work in which a confusion of affairs required to be sorted andcarried through; in which plans had to be developed and set in train,and during which a growing and almost oppressing sense ofresponsibility had steadily taken possession of him. There had been noleisure. It had been work incessant, work, and again work. Now, atlast, he felt that a breathing space was almost permissible.
In his first moment of leisure he was determined to carry out a purposeupon which he had resolved, even amidst the turmoil of the affairs hehad been engaged upon. For not once during all those weeks had thehaunting memory of his beautiful visitor on the Yorkshire cliffs beenlost to him. He had heard no word from her, he had caught no glimpse ofher since he had watched her finally ascend the companionway of thesubmersible to return to the shore. For the first time in his life hehad been made aware that there could be a more imperative claim upon aman than his simple duty. For the first time in his life he foundhimself hearkening to the mandates of Nature in a yielding spirit. Hecould no longer resist the haunting charms of the wonderful creaturewho had so appealed to his manhood.
He sat revolving his purpose in his mind. And, so doing, he idly drew acopy of an evening paper towards him. He turned its pages in abstractedcontemplation. Then, suddenly, a head-line caught and held hisattention. It was the announcement of the completion of hisnegotiations with the naval department.
He read it eagerly, not with any desire to discover publicity forhimself--rather the reverse. He looked to discover how far thepernicious habit of publicity might be damaging to the cause in whichhe was working. He sighed in relief as he came to the end of theparagraph. For once the press had exercised laudable restraint. Therewas nothing in it calculated to inspire curiosity or even comment. Itsimply stated that a department in the Dorby yards had been taken overby the Board of Admiralty to relieve the congestion in the NavalConstruction yards.
He thrust the paper aside, drew a telegram pad towards him, and inditedan address upon it.
"Veevee, London."
Then he paused and looked up as the door in the panelling of the roomwas thrust open and his secretary presented himself.
"It's the telephone, and a woman's voice speaking, Mr. Farlow," hesaid, with a whimsical smile. "I endeavored to get her name, but sherefused it. I warned her that I could not call you without she statedher business, or gave her name. Finally she said I had better tell youthat 'Veevee, London,' wished to speak to you urgently. I wrote thename down so there should be no----"
"You can put me through--at once."
The crisp response was not without significance to the younger man, andHarold Heathcote departed with the mental reservation that "even withCabinet Ministers you never can tell."
A few moments later the telephone receiver on Ruxton Farlow's tablepurred its soft challenge, and he picked it up in hasty and delightedanticipation. In a moment he recognized Vita Vladimir's voice. His darkeyes smiled at the sunlit window as he replied to her enquiry.
"Yes. It's Ruxton Farlow speaking. How-do-you-do? Most extraordinarycoincidence. I was just writing out a telegram to you. I was wond----Yes, it's ages. I've a lot to tell you about--things. Eh? You must seeme to-night. Why, that's delightful. I am in great good luck. Not sureabout the luck?" He laughed confidently. "I am. Eh?" His laugh had diedout abruptly. "Bad news. That's---- Well, where shall I see you? Notat--all right. Could you manage dinner with me somewhere? Ah, anywhereyou choose. What's that? The Oberon? The West Room? Will that be allright in view of the--bad news? Yes, I agree. It is sufficientlysecluded. Shall we say at eight o'clock? You're sure it quite suitsyou? Splendid. Yes. Then good-bye--till eight o'clock."
Ruxton replaced the receiver, and, for a moment, sat staring ou
t at thesunlit square. His eyes were half smiling still, but there was apuzzled, slight elevation of his level brows. He was thinking,speculating as to the nature of the bad news. But even bad news whichagain brought him into contact with the Princess Vita was robbed ofmore than half its significance.
Whatever Ruxton Farlow's impressions, drawn from his earlier encounterswith Vita von Hertzwohl, they became totally eclipsed by the delight inher perfect beauty as it appeared to him when he kept his appointmentfor dinner that night.
Her tall figure, so beautifully rounded, so perfect in its delicateproportions, and so full of a delicious sinuous grace, was gowned toperfection. Her wonderful red-gold hair, tinged with its soft sheen ofburnished copper, was a perfect setting for the delicate tracery ofjewels which completed its exquisitely unconventional dressing. Herwonderful grey eyes shone eagerly up into his, lighting the essentiallyforeign complexion which was hers with a warm fire of virile mentality.Such were the feelings she inspired that he wondered absurdly that hecould ever have taken her for anything less than the princess he nowknew her to be. So great was her effect upon him that it was not untilher own low-spoken words, reminding him of the bad news of which shewas the bearer, permitted the memory of the affairs he was engaged uponto return to their paramount place in his consideration.
They were seated at a small round table in a remote corner of the greatWest Room. The table next to them was unoccupied, but, for the rest,the room was fairly full, and amongst the diners were a considerablenumber of notables who preferred the quiet harmonious charm of tastefulsurroundings and excellent cooking to the blatancy of the moreadvertised caravansaries.
It was not until the _peches-melba_ had been served, and the order forcoffee had been given to the waiter, that the cloud was allowed todescend upon Ruxton's perfect enjoyment. They had talked of all he hadseen upon his visit to Borga. They had talked of Vita's father, and theservices he yearned to perform for humanity. Ruxton had described indetail their flight from the great arsenal and its Prussian commandant.And all the time Vita had withheld her news, fearing for herself, asmuch as for her companion, the complete banishment of the delight ofthis moment of their meeting again.
But it had to come, and she faced it resolutely. There had fallen apause in their talk, and she drew a deep sigh.
"And now--now for the purpose of this meeting," she said.
Then with a resolute air she rested her elbows upon the table andclasped her beautiful shapely hands.
"Is there any other purpose than--the present?" enquired Ruxton,following her example and leaning forward. His smile was one ofwhimsical protest. He knew that the moment had come when he must oncemore return to the harness of his office. "I feel rather like a navvy,"he proceeded. "After tremendous exertions I have just been loungingaway my dinner hour. The whistle has blown, and I must get to workagain. You have blown the whistle."
Vita smiled faintly. But her eyes lost none of their seriousnessthereby.
"I'm afraid there are liable to be some heavy penalties if--you do notrespond to it promptly. Oh, dear, I have so enjoyed myself. I wishthere were no Prussians in the world."
"There are fewer than there were."
"Yes, but so long as one remains there are--too many. I have had acommunication from my father. It came to-day."
"A letter?"
Vita shook her head.
"We do not communicate by letter. A messenger. A funny little old manwho carries samples of buttons made in Austria. He represents a buttonfirm, and sells millions of them over here. He happens to be myfather's brother, although no one is allowed to guess the relationship.He is my father's most loyal--friend."
"And he has brought you word of----"
"Von Salzinger."
Ruxton waited for her to continue. He was watching her with eyes thatleft him utterly incapable of forgetting her wonderful attraction. Shewas no longer merely a partner in the work he had marked out forhimself. She was more. She was the woman of his early youthful dreamscome to life, and every word that fell from her lips had for him asignificance which appealed to the big soul within him apart from anyverbal meaning it might convey.
"You know father is the oddest mixture of simplicity and shrewdness Ihave ever known. He is utterly without fear, and his trust, to a point,is childlike. But when he is threatened with serious danger he ispossessed of all the subtlety, it seems to me, of the whole world. Thatis perhaps why I do not gravely fear for his personal safety. Hismessage to me illustrates his simplicity, but gives no inkling of thatwonderful shrewdness which I know him to possess. Perhaps it is wordedpurposely so that I should miss its real significance. You see, fatherknows I am a coward, and does not like to distress me. Perhaps, on theother hand, he only sees in the development the dire result of hisprotest to Berlin. You see I have had the story of your visit to Borgafrom him weeks ago. But I see more in it, and I am right. That's why Iwarned you of 'bad news.'"
"And the news?" Ruxton's imagination had been stirred by the girl'spreliminary.
"In brief it is that Captain-General von Salzinger has been relieved ofhis command at Borga, as a result of his attitude towards you and myfather."
"That is what your father assured me would happen. He assured me thatin Berlin his power was almost unlimited--as regards Borga. I seelittle to trouble us in that."
"No-o."
Vita's whole attitude underwent a change. She became reflective, andher warm grey eyes grew cold with the bitterness of memory. After somesilent moments she seemed to arrive at a decision.
"To impress you with my point of view I--must make something like aconfession," she went on presently.
She was interrupted by the returning waiter, who removed the sweetplates and cleared the table for the coffee. After he had poured it outand departed, Vita went on. All doubt had gone from her manner, and hereyes smiled back into the eager face of the man who had made forhimself the discovery of the woman in Eden.
"It is just a little bit difficult to tell you these things," shesmiled. "But I must do so, or you will not see the danger as I see it.It is about an early love affair of mine with--Von Salzinger. Oh, don'tmake any mistake," she cried hastily, at the abrupt, ingenuous changein the man's expression. "I was never in love with him. But he was withme. Ugh! Von Salzinger. A Prussian from head to foot. A typical,soulless Prussian. No, no. This man is ambitious. That is all he caresfor in life--himself and his ambition. My father was a great man in thecountry, and would have been an excellent lever to further his ends. Sohe strove to--enlist my sympathies. I was very young, and--well, Ithink most women, even at an early age, like being made love to. I didnot so greatly discourage him at first. Then came the War, and Idiscovered many things about the German people I had never dreamed of.I also discovered the Prussian in Von Salzinger. He strove his utmostto enlist me in the Secret Service, of which, to my horror, Idiscovered he was a prominent member. Need I tell you what happened?There was a scene--a dreadful scene, which he has probably neverforgiven, and--may never forgive. Now here is the complication of whichmy father is unaware. It is my father who has brought about hisdownfall. Do you see? He undoubtedly has suspicions of you.Consequently he has suspicions of my father. He is bred to the SecretService. Where has he gone, and what will he do? What has he toldBerlin, and--what understanding has he come to with them? My simplefather believes he has settled the matter definitely in the only wayhis position entitled him to settle it. I think he has set an unusuallyswift and poisonous snake upon the tracks of all of us. Now you tell mewhat you think. You can probably judge the position better than I. Youcan look upon it from a detached point of view."
"Detached?" Ruxton smiled dubiously. But his interrogation seemed topass Vita by. She sipped her coffee and waited. Her grey eyes werecompletely veiled beneath her long, dense lashes. Ruxton pushed hisempty cup aside. "The danger I see is for your father. Not for you, orfor anything over here. That, of course, may come later. The immediatedanger is for your father."
Vita sighed.
/> "You have lightened my fears." She raised her shining eyes. "Thatsounds terrible, doesn't it? But--I would rather have danger threatenhim, personally, than threaten his project--our project. His positionis unique, and I doubt even if you can appreciate it. And then he has ameans of protecting himself which even Berlin has no understanding of.Father can escape at any moment he considers it necessary. That was allthought out, with many other things, before we approached you. _Ourvisit to Dorby is still all unsuspected_. Remember that."
"Yes."
"But, in spite of your view-point, we shall hear from Von Salzinger, ifI am not very much mistaken. You see, he knows I am in London. Unlesswe hear soon that he has been given another appointment in Germany,then I feel certain we shall have him swiftly on our tracks. What canhe do--to hurt us?"
There was unmistakable apprehension in the girl's eyes. There was agravity in her assertion that would not be denied, and even Ruxtonrealized the soundness of her argument. But he sought to console her,to lessen her fears. He desired more than all things to see her warmsmile replace the apprehension she was now displaying.
"He can do nothing here, should he favor us with a visit," he saidlightly. "I have taken no chances. Only to-day I have completednegotiations by which our new constructions are definitely placed underthe control and protection of our Admiralty. If your father is safe,then I think we can snap our fingers at Captain-General von Salzinger."
"I'm--glad," cried Vita. Then impulsively: "So glad. Perhaps you don'tquite understand _our_ feelings. You see," she went on warmly, "ourproject has been placed before everything else in life. Life and deathor imprisonment are secondary--quite secondary--with us. It is thiseffort to save humanity from the disaster which is being engineered inthe Teutonic mind that is all that we care for. If necessary we shallnot shrink from yielding up our lives to that cause. I wonder. Can youunderstand? Yes." She nodded decidedly. "You do understand. That is whywe came to you. Now you have reassured me. Germany cannot stop the workgoing forward. It has become a British national effort." She sighedagain, however. "But for all that my news is bad. I am sure of it.Perhaps it is only relatively so. I cannot say. If the work goes on nonews can be really bad. Yes, I am relieved, and I am glad I 'phonedyou. I wish my father had been here to hear you say that the work wouldgo on. It would have been the greatest moment of his life."
There was a great striving for reassurance in her manner. Ruxtonwatched it, as he watched every other play of light and shade in hervoice and expression. Nor was it until he witnessed the return of herbrilliant smile that he felt content. With its advent he returned againto the serene enjoyment of the moment.
At length, no further excuse for remaining would serve, and athalf-past nine they rose to go. For Ruxton it was the passing of animportant milestone on his journey through life. There remained nolonger any doubt of his feelings. He knew he had met at last the onlywoman in the world who could reveal to him the true depths of happinessin life. His full realization had come with her frank avowal of theplace Von Salzinger had striven to hold in her life. It had been athreatening cloud, a summer billow of cloud tossed up by some adverseair-current, and, for the moment, it had obscured his sun. Its passinghad left him in the full blaze of a radiance which he now appreciatedat its true worth. He knew that he loved this wonderful Princess Vita.
Once again the hand of Destiny had been revealed. He was moving blindlyat its bidding. Nor had he will or inclination to diverge from thecourse marked out. He was content--more than content, and his onlyalloy was the rapidly approaching termination of the all too shortevening.
His car rolled up to the door. He had handed Vita into it, and stoodleaning in through the doorway.
"Where shall he drive to?" he enquired, with a smile of amusement."Kensington?"
"Please, Kensington."
There was almost a challenge in the smile with which Vita replied tohim.
A moment later he was sitting beside her in the cabriolet as they droveon towards the crossing of Piccadilly Circus.
"It is too late to let you take me all the way to my home," Vita saidquietly. "Besides, I would rather remain in town for the night." Thenshe broke off in an undecided fashion.
Ruxton caught at the pause.
"Do not think about it. I have no desire to know anything but thatwhich you choose to tell me."
Vita laughed. And Ruxton felt that her laugh was slightly embarrassed.
"It seems strange not to tell you where my real home is," she said."There is no adequate reason for not doing so--and yet--I will tell youthe reason that I occupy my Kensington flat in my two Christian names,and keep my real home away in the country. Father and I thought it outwhen we embarked upon our plans. We decided that in emergency it wouldbe necessary to have a secure retreat. We endeavored to forestall allpossibilities. We----"
She broke off, gazing across the car at the open window of the doorbeside Ruxton. Her eyes were full of alarm. The car had stopped in astream of traffic, held up by the imperious arm of the point policeman.A taxicab had come to a stop beside them, and slightly in advance. Ahatless head had been thrust out of the window to observe the cause ofthe delay. It was a square head upon still squarer shoulders. The neckthat linked them was fleshy and powerful. The hair was short andstubbly.
Vita's hand reached swiftly and caught Ruxton's arm.
"Quick," she whispered. "Quick--but cautiously. Don't let him see you.There, leaning out of that cab. It is Von Salzinger."
Ruxton, his pulses quickened at the touch of Vita's hand upon his armand the eager alarm of her whisper, leant forward and cautiously peeredout of the window. Instantly the inevitable happened. The car movedforward and closed up on the cab. They had drawn abreast. The movementdistracted the occupant of the cab. His head turned and Ruxton foundhimself gazing squarely into the fleshy features of the Commandant ofBorga. He promptly drew back, but it was too late. Von Salzinger had noscruples. He had obviously recognized the Englishman, for now he leantfarther out of the window and deliberately peered into the well-litinterior of the car for a second look at its occupants.
It was a desperate, trying movement. Ruxton was helpless. There wasnothing to be done. The man's scrutiny of both himself and hiscompanion remained until the traffic moved on. Then, and then only, didhe withdraw his head.
"He has lost no time, and has had all the--luck," said Vita in a hard,bitter tone.
But Ruxton smiled and spoke down into the tube to the chauffeur.
"There is a taxi beside us. Avoid it." Then he put up the tube andturned to the girl at his side. "Your fears were well grounded. WithVon Salzinger in London there can be only one possible interpretationof the fact. But I don't think he has had all the luck. You forget thatI have completed my arrangements with the Admiralty."