The Dark Star Part 42

"We're all fools at times," he retorted, laughing. "You were when you shot at me. Suppose I'd been seized with panic. I might have turned loose on you, too."

For a while she remained silent, then she looked at him curiously:

"Were you armed?"

"I carry an automatic pistol in my portfolio pocket."

She shrugged.

"You were a fool to come into that house without carrying it in your hand."

"Where would you be now if I had done that?"

"Dead, I suppose," she said carelessly.... "What _are_ you going to do with me?"

He was in excellent humour with himself; exhilaration and excitement still possessed him, keyed him up.

"Fancy," he said, "a foreign emba.s.sy being mixed up in a plain case of grand larceny!--robbing with attempt to murder! My dear but bloodthirsty young lady, I can hardly comprehend it."

She remained silent, looking straight in front of her.

"You know," he said, "I'm rather glad you're not a common thief.

You've lots of pluck--plenty. You're as clever as a cobra. It isn't every poisonous snake that is clever," he added, laughing.

"What do you intend to do with me?" she repeated coolly.

"I don't know. You are certainly an interesting companion. Maybe I'll take you to New York with me. You see I'm beginning to like you."

She was silent.

He said:

"I never before met a real spy. I scarcely believed they existed in time of peace, except in novels. Really, I never imagined there were any spies working for emba.s.sies, except in Europe. You are, to me, such a rare specimen," he added gaily, "that I rather dread parting with you. Won't you come to Paris with me?"

"Does what you say amuse you?"

"What _you_ say does. Yes, I think I'll take you to New York, anyway.

And as we journey toward that great metropolis together you shall tell me all about your delightful profession. You shall be a Scheherazade to me! Is it a bargain?"

She said in a pleasant, even voice:

"I might as well tell you now that what you've been stupid enough to do tonight is going to cost you your life."

"What!" he exclaimed laughingly. "More murder? Oh, Scheherazade! Shame on your naughty, naughty behaviour!"

"Do you expect to reach Paris with those papers?"

"I do, fair houri! I do, Rose of Stamboul!"

"You never will."

"No?"

"No." She sat staring ahead of her for a few moments, then turned on him with restrained impatience:

"Listen to me, now! I don't know who you are. If you're employed by any government you are a novice----"

"Or an artist!"

"Or a consummate artist," she admitted, looking at him uncertainly.

"I _am_ an artist," he said.

"You have an excellent opinion of yourself."

"No. I'm telling you the truth. My name is Neeland--James Neeland. I draw little pictures for a living--nice little pictures for newspapers and magazines."

His frankness evidently perplexed her.

"If that is so," she said, "what interests you in the papers you took from me?"

"Nothing at all, my dear young lady! _I'm_ not interested in them. But friends of mine are."

"Who?"

He merely laughed at her.

"_Are_ you an agent for any government?"

"Not that I know of."

She said very quietly:

"You make a terrible mistake to involve yourself in this affair. If you are not paid to do it--if you are not interested from patriotic motives--you had better keep aloof."

"But it's too late. I _am_ mixed up in it--whatever it may mean. Why not tell me, Scheherazade?"

His humorous badinage seemed only to make her more serious.

"Mr. Neeland," she said quietly, "if you really are what you say you are, it is a dangerous and silly thing that you have done tonight."

"Don't say that! Don't consider it so tragically. I'm enjoying it all immensely."

"Do you consider it a comedy when a woman tries to kill you?"

"Maybe you are fond of murder, gentle lady."

"Your sense of humour seems a trifle perverted. I am more serious than I ever was in my life. And I tell you very solemnly that you'll be killed if you try to take those papers to Paris. Listen!"--she laid one hand lightly on his arm--"Why should you involve yourself--you, an American? This matter is no concern of yours----"