The Dark Star Part 64

"Ben," said Brandes in a low voice, which was too indistinct for Neeland to catch, "I'll tell you something now that you don't know. I saw Quint alone; I talked with him. Do you know who is handling the big stuff in this deal?"

"Who?" asked Stull, amazed.

"The Turkish Emba.s.sy in Paris. And do you know who plays the fine Italian hand for that bunch of Turks?"

"No."

"Minna!"

"You're crazy!"

Brandes took no notice, but went on with a sort of hushed ferocity that silenced both Stull and Curfoot:

"That's why I went in. To get Minna. And I'll get her if it costs every cent I've got or ever hope to get. That's why I'm in this deal; that's why I came; that's why I'm here telling you this. I'm in it to get Minna, not for the money, not for anything in all G.o.d's world except to get the woman who has done what Minna did to me."

Neeland listened in vain to the murmuring voice; he could not catch a word.

Stull whispered:

"Aw, f'r G.o.d's sake, Eddie, that ain't the game. Do you want to double-cross Quint?"

"I _have_ double-crossed him."

"What! Do you mean to sell him out?"

"I _have_ sold him out."

"Jesus! Who to?"

"To the British Secret Service. And there's to be one hundred thousand dollars in it, Doc, for you and me to divide. And fifty thousand more when we put the French bulls on to Minna and Breslau. Now, how does one hundred and fifty thousand dollars against five thousand apiece strike you two poor, cheap guys?"

But the magnitude of Brandes' treachery and the splendour of the deal left the two gamblers stunned.

Only by their expressions could Neeland judge that they were discussing matters of vital importance to themselves and probably to him. He listened; he could not hear what they were whispering. And only at intervals he dared glance over his book in their direction.

"Well," said Brandes under his breath, "go on. Spit it out. What's the squeal?"

"My G.o.d!" whispered Stull. "Quint will kill you."

Brandes laughed unpleasantly:

"Not me, Ben. I've got that geezer where I want him on a dirty deal he pulled off with the police."

Curfoot turned his pointed muzzle toward the window and sneered at the sunny landscape.

A few minutes later, far across the rolling plain set with villas and farms, and green with hedgerows, gardens, bouquets of trees and cultivated fields, he caught sight of a fairy structure outlined against the sky. Turning to Brandes:

"There's the Eiffel Tower," remarked Curfoot. "Where are we stopping, Eddie?"

"Caffy des Bulgars."

"Where's that?"

"It's where we go to work--Roo Vilna."

Stull's smile was ghastly, but Curfoot winked at Brandes.

Neeland listened, his eyes following the printed pages of his book.

CHAPTER XXV

CUP AND LIP

Through the crowded Paris terminal Neeland pushed his way, carrying the olive-wood box in his hand and keeping an eye on his porter, who preceded him carrying the remainder of his luggage and repeating:

"_Place, s'il vous plait, m'sieu', dames!_"

To Neeland it was like a homecoming after many years' exile; the subtle but perfectly specific odour of Paris a.s.sailed his nostrils once again; the rapid, emphatic, lively language of France sounded once more delightfully in his eager ears; vivacity and intelligence sparkled in every eye that met his own. It was a throng of rapid movement, of animated speech, of gesticulation. And, as it was in the beginning when he first arrived there as a student, he fell in love with it at first sight and contact.

All around him moved porters, pa.s.sengers, railroad officials; the red _kepis_ of soldiers dotted the crowd; a priest or two in shovel hat and buckled shoes, a Sister of Charity from the Rue de Bac lent graver accents to the throng; and everywhere were the pretty bourgeois women of the capital gathered to welcome relatives or friends, or themselves starting on some brief summer voyage so dear to those who seldom find it in their hearts to leave Paris for longer than a fortnight at a time.

As he pressed onward he witnessed characteristic reunions between voyagers and friends who awaited them--animated, cordial, gay scenes complicated by many embraces on both cheeks.

And, of a sudden, he noticed the prettiest girl he had ever seen in his life. She was in white, with a black straw hat, and her face and figure were lovely beyond words. Evidently she was awaiting friends; there was a charming expectancy on her fresh young face, a slight forward inclination of her body, as though expectancy and happy impatience alone controlled her.

Her beauty almost took his breath away.

"Lord!" he thought to himself. "If such a girl as that ever stood waiting for me----"

At the same moment her golden-grey eyes, sweeping the pa.s.sing crowd, met his; a sharp thrill of amazement pa.s.sed through him as she held out both gloved hands with a soft exclamation of recognition:

"Jim! Jim Neeland!"

"Rue Carew!" He could scarcely credit his eyesight, where he stood, hat in hand, holding both her little hands in one of his.

No, there was no use in trying to disguise his astonishment. He looked into the face of this tall young girl, searched it for familiar features, recognised a lovely paraphrase of the freckled face and thin figure he remembered, and remained dumb before this radiant reincarnation of that other unhappy, shabby, and meagre child he had known two years ago.

Ruhannah, laughing and flushed, withdrew her hands.

"Have I changed? You haven't. And I always thought you the most wonderful and ornamental young man on this planet. I knew you at once, Jim Neeland. Would you have pa.s.sed without recognising me?"

"Perhaps I wouldn't have pa.s.sed after seeing you----"

"Jim Neeland! What a remark!" She laughed. "Anyway, it's nice to believe myself attractive enough to be noticed. And I'm _so_ glad to see you. Naa is here, somewhere, watching for you"--turning her pretty, eager head to search for the Princess Mistchenka. "Oh, there she is! She doesn't see us----"