One Wonderful Night: A Romance of New York

own room, there to consult a mirror, and readjust her hat and veil and disordered hair, but Curtis met a hurrying waiter. "Sorry to bother you," he said, "but my wife has come in unexpectedly, and we shall want breakfast for two." He raised his voice: "Coffee for you, Hermione, or would you prefer tea?" "Coffee, of course," was the answer, in so calm and collected a tone that the waiter thought he must have been mistaken in his first impression. "No trouble at all, sir," he said, with the ready civility of his class. "Unless you wish to wait, sir, I'll bring another cup and some hot plates, and order a further supply from the kitchen." "You're a man of resource," cried Curtis cheerfully. "I leave the arrangements to you with confidence. . . . Come along, Hermione. Don't say you have breakfasted already." "I won't, because I haven't," she said, reappearing with a smiling nonchalance which removed the last shred of doubt from the waiter's mind. But, for all that, she electrified Curtis with a timidly grateful glance, for she appreciated his thoughtfulness in giving her an opportunity to collect her scattered wits. There was need of some such respite; she had much to relate, she thought, before he could possibly understand the motives which led to her flight. Barely half an hour ago Mr. Steingall had put in an appearance at her apartment. He had told her, with convincing brevity, exactly why Curtis refrained from adding to her perplexities by announcing the comparative well-being of Jean de Courtois. "He was very kind," said Hermione, sweetly penitent, "but he made me feel rather like a worm when he said that if I were his own daughter he would thank God that I had fallen into the hands of a man like you. He said, too, that if I owed you something, he owed you more, because you had saved his life last night, so, being an impulsive creature, I hurried here to ask your forgiveness for that horrid note." "There is no lie so difficult to combat as a half truth," said John. "That fellow, Schmidt, impressed you because he probably believed what he was saying. As for Steingall, he makes rather too much of what I did for him, but, if there was any debt on his side, he has repaid me with ample interest." The waiter had left the room, and Hermione was free to blush without restraint, a privilege she availed herself of fully now. "But, dear, you and I can hardly feel that we are really married," she said. "Yesterday--it was--different. I cannot remain here now. Perhaps your uncle and aunt will receive me--until----" "It is surprising how easily one can get married if one is really bent on the act," said Curtis, discussing the point as coolly as if it were a question as to where they would lunch. "At any rate, we shall settle that difficulty to your complete satisfaction. I expect Steingall here in less than an hour. Meanwhile, we have lots to tell each other. I want you to know just what sort of husband you have drawn in the lottery." "Do you take me on trust, then?" "Absolutely without reservation." Obviously, the conversation did not flag before the detective was announced. He looked tired and preoccupied when he came in, but his shrewd, pleasant face brightened with a cheery smile when he saw Hermione, who was pretending to be interested in a newspaper. "I am glad to find that two people, at least, have taken my advice," he said. "Now, Mr. Curtis, I want you for an hour. The various official inquiries are adjourned till next week, and your presence was dispensed with. But we are going now to the office of Mr. Otto Schmidt, where we shall have the pleasure of meeting the Earl of Valletort, Count Ladislas Vassilan, and, possibly, Monsieur Jean de Courtois. . . . On no account, young lady," and he turned to Hermione, "must you run away again during our absence." "I shall not," said Hermione, so emphatically that they all laughed. CHAPTER XVI A PARLEY Nature was kind that morning. A flood of sunshine greeted Curtis when he turned into Fifth Avenue with the detective, as the latter had suggested that they might walk a little way before taking a taxi, there being plenty of time before the hour fixed for the meeting in Schmidt's office. It was a morning when life and good health assumed their fitting places in the forefront of those many and varied considerations which form the sum of human happiness. The world had suddenly resumed its everyday aspect of bustle and content. New York smiled at its new citizen, and the new citizen beamed appreciatively on New York. "I cannot explain matters to you fully even yet----" Steingall was saying, when an automobile drew up close to the curb, and a well-known voice cried joyously: "Just in time. Where's the fire? There's bound to be a blaze when you two run in a leash." Devar bounced out of the car, and Brodie grinned with pleasure. The chauffeur was beginning to like the excitement of acting as supernumerary on the staff of the Detective Bureau. "Will you jump in, or shall I prowl with you down Fifth Avenue?" asked Devar, blithely ignoring Steingall's somewhat strained welcome. "We are keeping an appointment," said Curtis. "I, for one, shall be more than pleased if the combination which proved so effective last night may remain intact this morning." "Steingall daren't cut adrift from me," said Devar. "If you knew the truth about him, you'd find that he is deeply superstitious, and I'm a real mascot for bringing good luck. Perhaps he is not aware, John D., that I was the impresario who 'presented' you to an admiring public. Tell him that, and see if he has the nerve to say I'm not wanted." "Come along, Mr. Devar," said the detective, apparently yielding to a sudden resolve. "I think I can make use of you--justify your presence, that is. Tell your chauffeur to wait for us at 42d Street." Off went Brodie, jubilant at the prospect of his services being in requisition again. He had not yet learnt the application to all things mundane of Disraeli's quip that it is the unexpected which happens. "Now, I want you two gentlemen to attend closely to what I have to say," said Steingall seriously, placing himself between them, so that his words might not reach other ears than those for which they were intended. "Mr. Hunter's murder has passed long ago out of the common class of crimes. It will be inquired into thoroughly, of course, and punishment will be dealt out impartially to those responsible for its commission. But--and this is the point I want to emphasize--neither of you know, nor am I at liberty to inform you--just what bounds the authorities may reach, or stop at. Have I made my meaning clear?" "Yes," said Curtis. "We're to be good little boys, and sit still, and say nothing, and do as we're told," said Devar. "I'm not asking impossibilities," said Steingall, who had a dry humor, and seldom missed a chance of gratifying it. "I have merely laid down a proviso which must be observed, not for a day, or a week, but as long as any of us is alive. State affairs are not the property of individuals. They come first, all the time. If they don't suit our convenience, we must simply adjust ourselves to the new conditions." "You alarm me, Steingall," cried Devar. "Have we been drawn into an international squabble? Don't tell me that Devar's canned salmon is really a deadly sort of bomb." "I've heard more improbable things. But you would not be your father's son, Mr. Devar, if you can't keep a tight lip when statements are made in your presence which may astonish you. Mr. Curtis and you are now about to meet a very clever man, Otto Schmidt, the lawyer, and I fancy your name will help in the argument. Is your father in New York?" "He arrives here from Chicago to-night." "He has never met Mr. Curtis?" "No, but he jolly soon will." "But, if it were possible to get hold of him by telephone or telegraph to-day, he would say he had never heard of him?" "I guess that's so. What are you driving at?" "Schmidt must know your father. They are bound to have come together in more than one important deal." "Well?" "It seems to me that, if the father's evidence is not available, the son's gains a trifle more weight." "Dash me if I can imagine where you are getting off at, Steingall." "You regard Mr. Curtis as a friend?" "I am proud of the fact." "Stick to that, and you will do him good service." "Well, that's easy." The detective seemed to be picking his words with a good deal of care. He covered several paces in silence, and Curtis, who had reverted to his normal habit of sober gravity, took no part in the conversation. His estimate of its purport differed from Devar's. That light-hearted youngster was somewhat annoyed by the detective's implied hint that his friendship with Curtis rested on no more solid foundation than a steamer acquaintance, and would hardly bear the test of close scrutiny if it came to analysis on the score of prior knowledge, or if his testimony were sought as to Curtis's earlier career. But he had the good sense to understand that Steingall was actuated by no light motive, so he held his peace. Curtis went farther. He believed that the detective was telling Devar what to say and how to say it. "Now that we have settled the matter of Mr. Curtis's references," said Steingall, resuming the talk as though it had not been interrupted, "I reach the next item. Both of you are aware that two men have been arrested, and one is dead, and that all three were concerned in the attack on Mr. Hunter." "Yes," came the simultaneous answer. "I want you to forget names, except with regard to Lamotte, the chauffeur. Martiny and Rossi, for the time being, vanish into the Ewigkeit." "What--forever?" Curtis could not help saying. "No, for a week or so." Steingall darted a quick glance to his questioner. "I have a stupid trick of adopting phrases from my pet authors," he said. "Does Ewigkeit mean eternity?" "Yes." "Well, then, I withdraw it." "Try Niflheim." "Or Ruedesheim," suggested Devar wickedly. Steingall laughed. Despite his German-sounding name, he spoke French fluently, but German not at all. "They're off the map," he said. "There, that's good American, and I'll get on with my story, or rather, with the lack of it. I cannot, of course, foretell the exact lines our discussion with Schmidt and his clients will follow, but if I have made you understand that your combined share in it is to say little, and be thoroughly non-committal in anything you may have to say, I am content." "You are as mysterious as an astrologer," vowed Devar. "Having money to burn one day in Paris, I visited one of those jokers, and he told me I was born in Capricorn, under the sign of Aries, and I as good as told him he was a liar, because I was born in Manhattan under an ordinary roof. By Jove! that reminds me, John D., you're a whale on stars. Did you spot those two last night, low down in the west?" "Yes." "And what did they prognosticate?" "That you and I would promise Mr. Steingall not to spoil any scheme he may have in mind by interfering at an inopportune moment." "I suppose I ought to feel crushed, but I don't," said Devar. "My dear fellow, if it hadn't been for you and your loyal championship at the right moment, I might easily have been in jail as an accomplice of the unknown scoundrels who killed Mr. Hunter." "That's the right kind of remark," broke in the detective. "I think I'll offer each of you a post in the Bureau after this business is ended." "Give me a pointer on one matter," said Devar. "You spoke of Schmidt's clients. Who are they?"