The Yellow Crayon Part 12

Horser's face hardened.

"Not one cent!" he declared fiercely. "Only if I fail it might be unpleasant for me next time I crossed."

"I don't know!" Mace declared weakly. "I don't know what to do. It's twelve hours, Horser, and the charge is ridiculous."

"You have me behind you."

"I can't tell them that at Was.h.i.+ngton," Mace said.

"It's a fact, all the same. Don't be so d.a.m.ned nervous."

Mace dismissed his clerk, and found his other guests, too, on the point of departure. But the last had scarcely left before a servant entered with another despatch.

"Release Souspennier."

Mace handed it to his companion.

"This settles it," he declared. "I shall go round and try and make my peace with the fellow."

Horser stood in the way, burly, half-drunk and vicious. He struck his host in the face with clenched fist. Mace went down with scarcely a groan. A servant, hearing the fall, came hurrying back.

"Your master is drunk and he has fallen down," Horser said. "Put him to bed--give him a sleeping draught if you've got one."

The servant bent over the unconscious man.

"Hadn't I better fetch a doctor, sir?" he asked. "I'm afraid he's hurt."

"Not he!" Horser answered contemptuously. "He's cut his cheek a little, that's all. Put him to bed. Say I shall be round again by nine o'clock."

Horser put on his coat and left the house. The morning sunlight was flooding the streets. Away down town Mr. Sabin was dozing in his high-backed chair.

CHAPTER IX

Felix, after an uneventful voyage, landed duly at Liverpool. To his amazement the first person he saw upon the quay was Mr. Sabin, leaning upon his stick and smoking a cigarette.

"Come, come, Felix!" he exclaimed. "Don't look at me as though I were a ghost. You have very little confidence in me, after all, I see."

"But--how did you get here?"

"The Campania, of course. I had plenty of time. It was easy enough for those fellows to arrest me, but they never had a chance of holding me."

"But how did you get away in time?"

Mr. Sabin sighed.

"It was very simple," he said. "One day, while one of those wonderful spies was sleeping on my doormat I slipped away and went over to Was.h.i.+ngton, saw the English Amba.s.sador, convinced him of my bonafides, told him very nearly the whole truth. He promised if I wired him that I was arrested to take my case up at once. You sent the despatch, and he kept his word. I breakfasted on Sat.u.r.day morning at the Waldorf, and though a great dray was driven into my carriage on the way to the boat, I escaped, as I always do--and here I am."

"Unhurt!" Felix remarked with a smile, "as usual!"

Mr. Sabin nodded.

"The driver of my carriage was killed, and Duson had his arm broken,"

he said. "I stepped out of the debris without a scratch. Come into the Customs House now and get your baggage through. I have taken a coupe on the special train and ordered lunch."

Before long they were on the way to London. Mr. Sabin, whilst luncheon was being served, talked only of the lightest matters. But afterwards, when coffee was served and he had lit a cigarette, he leaned over towards Felix.

"Felix," he said, "your sister is dear to you?"

"She is the only creature on earth," Felix said, "whom I care for. She is very dear to me, indeed."

"Am I right," Mr. Sabin asked, "in a.s.suming that the old enmity between us is dead, that the last few years has wiped away the old soreness.

"Yes," Felix answered. "I know that she was happy with you. That is enough for me."

"You and I," Mr. Sabin continued, "must work out her salvation. Do not be afraid that I am going to ask you impossibilities. I know that our ways must lie apart. You can go to her at once. It may be many, many months before I can catch even a glimpse of her. Never mind. Let me feel that she has you within the circle, and I without, with our lives devoted to her."

"You may rely upon that," Felix answered. "Wherever she is I am going. I shall be there. I will watch over her."

Mr. Sabin sighed.

"The more difficult task is mine," he said, "but I have no fear of failure. I shall find her surrounded by spies, by those who are now my enemies. Still, they will find it hard to shake me off. It may be that they took her from me only out of revenge. If that be so my task will be easier. If there are other dangers which she is called upon to face, it is still possible that they might accept my service instead."

"You would give it?" Felix exclaimed.

"To the last drop of blood in my body," Mr. Sabin answered. "Save for my love for her I am a dead man upon the earth. I have no longer politics or ambition. So the past can easily be expunged. Those who must be her guiding influence shall be mine."

"You will win her back," Felix said. "I am sure of it."

"I am willing to pay any price on earth," Mr. Sabin answered. "If they can forget the past I can. I want you to remember this. I want her to know it. I want them to know it. That is all, Felix."

Mr. Sabin leaned back in his seat. He had left this country last a stricken and defeated man, left it with the echoes of his ruined schemes cras.h.i.+ng in his ears. He came back to it a man with one purpose only, and that such a purpose as never before had guided him--the love of a woman. Was it a sign of age, he wondered, this return to the humanities?

His life had been full of great schemes, he had wielded often a gigantic influence, more than once he had made history. And now the love of these things had gone from him. Their fascination was powerless to quicken by a single beat his steady pulse. Monarchy or republic--what did he care?

It was Lucille he wanted, the woman who had shown him how sweet even defeat might be, who had made these three years of his life so happy that they seemed to have pa.s.sed in one delightful dream. Were they dead, annihilated, these old ambitions, the old love of great doings, or did they only slumber? He moved in his seat uneasily.

At Euston the two men separated with a silent handshake. Mr. Sabin drove to one of the largest and newest of the modern hotels de luxe. He entered his name as Mr. Sabin--the old exile's hatred of using his t.i.tle in a foreign country had become a confirmed habit with him--and mingled freely with the crowds who thronged into the restaurant at night. There were many faces which he remembered, there were a few who remembered him. He neither courted nor shunned observation. He sat at dinner-time at a retired table, and found himself watching the people with a stir of pleasure. Afterwards he went round to a famous club, of which he had once been made a life member, but towards midnight he was wearied of the dull decorum of his surroundings, and returning to the hotel, sought the restaurant once more. The stream of people coming in to supper was greater even than at dinner-time. He found a small table, and ordered some oysters. The sight of this bevy of pleasure-seekers, all apparently with mult.i.tudes of friends, might have engendered a sense of loneliness in a man of different disposition. To Mr. Sabin his isolation was a luxury. He had an uninterrupted opportunity of pursuing his favourite study.

There entered a party towards midnight, to meet whom the head-waiter himself came hurrying from the further end of the room, and whose arrival created a little buzz of interest. The woman who formed the central figure of the little group had for two years known no rival either at Court or in Society. She was the most beautiful woman in England, beautiful too with all the subtle grace of her royal descent.

There were women upon the stage whose faces might have borne comparison with hers, but there was not one who in a room would not have sunk into insignificance by her side. Her movements, her carriage were incomparable--the inherited gifts of a race of women born in palaces.

Mr. Sabin, who neither shunned nor courted observation, watched her with a grim smile which was not devoid of bitterness. Suddenly she saw him.

With a little cry of wonder she came towards him with outstretched hands.

"It is marvelous," she exclaimed. "You? Really you?"

He bowed low over her hands.

"It is I, dear Helene," he answered. "A moment ago I was dreaming. I thought that I was back once more at Versailles, and in the presence of my Queen."