The Firefly of France
CHAPTER VII
THE TIGHTENING WEB
I did not, of course, want her to. I was no "Injun giver," and havingonce pledged my word to help her, I was prepared to keep it till all wasblue or any other final shade. Still, it was not to be denied thatmy position looked incriminating. She might be as honest as thedaylight,--I believed she was; I had to or else abandon her,--but shehad managed to plunge me into a confounded mess.
Naturally I was exasperated at the net results of my piece of gallantry.I didn't care to be suspected; I wasn't anxious to have to lie. Allthe same, a plausible explanation, offered without delay, appearedessential. I should have wanted as much myself had I been guardingGibraltar port.
"Well, Mr. Bayne?"
"Well!" I retorted coolly. "I was just wondering if I should answer.This is an infernal outrage, you know. You don't really think I'm a spy.What you are doing is to give me a third degree on general principles.If you'll excuse my saying so I think you ought to have more sense!"
"Oh, of course we ought to take you on trust," he agreed sardonically."But we can't I'm afraid. The fact is, we have had an experience or twoto shake our faith. The last time this steamer stopped here we caught apair of spies who didn't look the part any more than you do; and sincethen we have rather stopped taking appearances as guarantees."
"All right, then," I responded. "I'll stretch a point since it iswar-time. I give you my word that I threw overboard a small bronzepaper-weight that was cluttering up my traps. There was nothingsurreptitious about it; the whole steamer might have seen me. Do youcare to take the responsibility of having me shot for that?"
"And I want to say, sir, that the gentleman is giving it to youstraight." An unexpected voice addressed the lieutenant at my back. "Iwas standing at the door behind him that night, though he didn't knowit, and I can take my oath that what he says is gospel truth."
My unlooked-for champion was Mr. John Van Blarcom. I stared at him, ata loss to know why, on the heels of our row on deck and my rejection ofhis friendly warning, he should perjure himself for me in so obliginga fashion. He had, I was aware, been too far off that night to knowwhether I had thrown away a paper-weight or a sand-bag. Moreover,the object had been swathed beyond recognition in the extra thatwas primarily responsible for all this fuss. "He is sorry for me,"I decided. "He thinks the girl has made a fool of me." Instead ofexperiencing gratitude, I felt more galled and wrathful than before.
"Is that so? How close were you?" the lieutenant asked alertly. "Aboutten feet? You are quite sure? Well--it's all right, I suppose, then," headmitted in a very grudging tone.
"No, it isn't," I declared tartly. I was by no means satisfied withso half-hearted a vindication; nor did I care to owe my immunity toa patronizing lie on Mr. Van Blarcom's part. "You have accused me ofspying. Do you think I'll let it go at that? I insist that you have mybaggage brought up here and that you search it and search me."
The face of the Englishman really relaxed for once.
"That's a good idea. And it's what any honest man would want, Mr.Bayne," he approved. "Since you demand it--certainly, we'll do it," andhe glanced at the captain, who promptly ordered two stewards to fetch mytraps from below.
Things move rapidly on shipboard. My traveling impedimenta appeared inthe salon almost before I could have uttered the potent name of JackRobinson, had I cared to try. With cold aloofness I offered my keys,and the head steward knelt to officiate, while the crowd gaped and thesecond English officer abandoned his corner and his papers, standingforth to watch with the lieutenant and the captain, thus forming anintent and highly interested committee of three.
The investigation began, very thorough, slightly harrowing. I had notrealized the embarrassing detail of such a search. An extended storeof collars suitable for different occasions; neat and glossy pilesof shirts, both dress and plain; black silk hose mountain high, andneckties as numerous as the sea sands. Noting the rapt attention thatMcGuntrie in particular gave to these disclosures, I felt that todeserve so inhuman a punishment my crime must have been black indeed.Shoes on their trees; articles of silk underwear; brushes, combs,gloves, cards, boxes of cigarettes, an extra flask; some lightliterature. And so on and so on, ad nauseam, till I grew dullyapathetic, and roused only to praise Allah when we left the boxes forthe trunk.
Hardened by this time, I brazenly endured the exhibition of my pajamas,not turning a hair when they were held up and shaken out before theattentive crowd. In a similar spirit I bore the examination of my coatsand trousers, the rummaging of my vests, the investigation of my hats."Courage!" I told myself. "Nothing in the world is endless." Indeed, thelast garment was now being lifted, revealing nothing beneath it save aleather wallet carefully tied.
"Just look through that, will you?" I requested with chilling sarcasm."Otherwise you may get to thinking later that I had a note for thekaiser there. In point of fact, those are simply some letters ofintroduction that I am taking to--" I broke off abruptly. "Good Lorddeliver us!" I blankly exclaimed. "What's that?"
The lieutenant, complying with my request, had unbound the wallet andwas flirting out its contents in fan-like fashion like a hand of cards.I saw the imposing army of letters presented me by Dunny, who knowseverybody, headed by one to his old friend, the American ambassador toFrance. So far, so good. But beneath them, with a sickening sense ofbeing in a bad dream, I beheld a thin sheaf of papers, neatly folded,bound with red tape and sealed with bright red wax,--an object which, tomy certain knowledge, had no more business among my belongings thanthe knives and plates that the conjurer snatches from the surroundingatmosphere, or the hen which he evolves, clucking, from an erstwhileempty sleeve.
Standing there with the impersonal calm of utter helplessness, I watchedthe Britisher break the seal and unfold the sheets. They were thin andthey were many and they were covered with closely jotted hieroglyphics,row upon row. But the sphinx-like quality of the contents afforded meno gleam of hope. If they had proclaimed as much in the plainest Englishprinting, I could have been no surer that they were the papers of Franzvon Blenheim; nor, as I learned a good while afterward, was I mistakenin the belief.
I was vaguely aware that the spectators were being ordered from thesalon. Captain Cecchi's eyes were dark stilettos; the gaze of theEnglishman was like a narrow flash of blue steel. He was going to saysomething. I waited apathetically. Then the words came, falling likeicicles in the deadness of the hush.
"If you wish, sir," he stated, "to explain why you are traveling withcipher papers, Captain Cecchi and I will hear what you have to say."