The Million Dollar Mystery Part 34

[Ill.u.s.tration: THEY DID NOT CARE A SNAP OF THEIR FINGERS WHAT JONES THOUGHT]

"But, my dear, you must be very careful," he said. "Jones and I will always be about somewhere. If they really get hold of you once, G.o.d alone knows what will happen. It is not you, it is your poor father they want to bring out into the open. If they knew where he was they would not bother you in the least."

"Have I really a father? Sometimes I doubt. Why couldn't he steal into the house and see me, just once?"

"Perhaps he dares not. This house is always watched, night and day, though you'll look in vain to discover any one. Your father knows best what he is doing, my dear girl. You see, I met him years ago in China; and when he started out to do a certain thing he generally did it. He never botched any of his plans. So we all must wait. Only I'm going to marry you all the same, whether he likes it or not. The rogues will try to impose upon you again; but do not pay any attention to notes or personals in the papers. And it was a lucky thing that I was on the freighter that picked you up at sea. I shall always wonder how that yacht took fire."

"So shall I," replied Florence, her brows drawing together in puzzlement. "Sometimes I think I must have done it. You know, people out of their heads do strange things. I seem to see myself as in a dream. And this man Braine is a scoundrel!"

"Yes; and more than that, he is the dear friend of the countess. But understand, you must never let her dream or suspect that you know. By lulling her into overconfidence some day she will naturally grow careless, and then we'll have them all. I think I understand what your father's idea is: not to have them arrested for blackmail, but practically to exterminate them, put them in prison for such terms of years that they'll die there. When you see a snake, a poisonous one, don't let it get away. Kill it. Well, I must be off to work."

"And you be careful, too. You are in more danger than I am."

"But I'm a man and can dodge quick," he laughed, picking up his hat.

"What a horrid thing money is! If I hadn't any money, n.o.body would bother me."

"I would," he smiled. He wanted to kiss her, but the eternal Jones might be watching from the windows; and so he patted her hand instead and walked down the graveled path to the street.

It was difficult work for Florence to play at friends.h.i.+p. She was like her father; she did not bestow it on every one. She had given her friends.h.i.+p to the Russian, the first real big friends.h.i.+p in her life, and she had been roughly disillusioned. But if the countess could act, so could she; and of the two her acting was the more consummate. She could smile and laugh and jest, all the while her heart was burning with wrath.

One day, a week or so after her meeting with Norton in the summer house, Olga arrived, beautifully gowned, handsome as ever. There was not the least touch of the adventuress in her makeup. Florence had just received some mail, and she had dropped the letters on the library table to greet the countess. She had opened them, but had not yet looked at their contents.

They were chatting pleasantly about inconsequent things, when the maid came in and asked Florence to come to Miss Susan's room for a moment.

Florence excused herself, wondering what Susan could want. She forgot the mail.

As soon as she was gone the countess, certain that Jones was not lurking about, picked up the letters and calmly examined their contents; and among them she found this remarkable doc.u.ment: "Dear daughter I have never seen: I must turn the treasure over to you. Meet me at eight in the summer house. Tell no one, as my life is in danger.

Your loving father."

The countess could have laughed aloud. She saw this man Paroff's hand; and here was the chance to befool and humiliate him and send him off packing to his cold and miserable country. She had made up once as Florence, and she could easily do so again. The only thing that troubled her was the fact that she did not know whether Florence had read the letter or not. Thus, she did not dare destroy it. She first thought of changing the clock; then she concluded to drop the letter exactly where she found it and trust to luck.

[Ill.u.s.tration: SHE FIRST THOUGHT OF CHANGING THE CLOCK]

When Florence returned she explained that her absence had been due to some trifling household affair.

Said the Russian: "I come primarily to ask you to tea to-morrow, where they dance. If you like, you may ask Mr. Norton to go along. I begin to observe that you two are rather fond of each other."

"Oh, Mr. Norton is just a valuable friend," returned Florence with a smile that quite deceived the other woman. "I shall be glad to go to the tea. But I shall not promise to dance."

"Not with Mr. Norton?" archly.

"Reporters never dance themselves; they make others dance instead."

"I shall have to tell that," declared the countess; and she laughed quite honestly.

"Then I have said something witty?"

"Indeed you have; and it is not only witty but truthful. I'm afraid you're deeper than the rest of us have any idea of."

"Perhaps I am," thought Florence; "at least deeper than you believe."

When the countess fluttered down to her limousine--Florence hated the sight of it--and drove away, Florence remembered her letters. And when she came to the one purporting to be from her father, she read it carefully, bent her head in thought, and finally destroyed the missive, absolutely confident that it was only a trap, and not very well conceived at that. Norton had given her plenty of reason for believing all such letters to be forgeries. Her father, if he really wished to see her, would enter the house; he would not write. Ah, when would she see that father of hers, so mysterious, always hovering near, always unseen?

It must have been an amusing adventure for the countess. To steal into the summer house and wait there, not knowing if Florence had advised Jones or the reporter. If caught, she had her excuses. Paroff, the confident, however, appeared shortly after.

"My child!" whispered the man.

And Olga stifled a laugh; but to him it sounded like a sob.

"I am worn out," he said. "I am tired of the game of hide and seek."

"You will not have to play the game long," thought Olga.

"The money is hidden in my office down-town. And we must go there at once. When we return we will pack up and leave for Europe. I've longed to see you so!"

"You poor fool! And they sent you to supersede Leo!" she mused.

She played out the farce to the very end. She permitted herself to be pinioned and jogged; and for what unnecessary roughness she suffered at the hands of Paroff he would presently pay. He took her straight to the executive chamber of the Black Hundred and pushed her into the room, exclaiming triumphantly:

"Here is Hargreave's daughter!"

[Ill.u.s.tration: HE TOOK HER STRAIGHT TO THE EXECUTIVE CHAMBER OF THE BLACK HUNDRED]

"Indeed!" said Olga, throwing back her veil and standing revealed in her mask.

"Olga!" cried Braine, laughing.

And that was the inglorious end of the secret agent from Russia.

CHAPTER XIV

Perhaps the most amusing phase of the secret agent's discomfiture was the fact that neither Jones nor Florence had the least idea what had happened. Florence regretted a hundred times during the evening that she had not gone out to the summer house. It might really have been her father. Her regret grew so deep in her that just before going to bed she confessed to Jones.

"You received a letter of that sort and did not show it to me?" said Jones, astonished.

"You warned me never to pay any attention to them."

"No; I warned you never to act upon them without first consulting me.

And we might have made a capture! My child, always show me these things. I will advise you whether to tear them up or not."

"Jones, I believe you are going a little too far," said Florence haughtily. "It might have been my father."

"Never in this world, Miss Florence. Still, I beg your pardon for raising my voice. What I do and have done is only for your own sake.

There are two things I wish to impress upon your mind before I go.

This can be made a comedy or a terrible tragedy. You have already had a taste of the latter; and each time you escaped because G.o.d was good to us. But He is rarely kind to thoughtless people. They have to look out for themselves. I am acting under orders; always remember that."