The Dark Star Part 67

"It was a clear case of treachery?" exclaimed Neeland.

"Absolutely a plot. The pretended official at the terminal control was an accomplice of my footman, of the taxicab driver, of the pretended street-cleaners--and of whom else I can, perhaps, imagine."

"Did you call the terminal control?"

"I did. The official in charge and the starter had seen no such accident; had given no such information. Some masquerader in uniform must have intercepted you, Jim."

"I found him coming toward me on the sidewalk not far from the kiosque. He was in uniform; I never dreamed he was not the genuine thing."

"There is no blame attached to you----"

"Naa, it actually sickens me to discover how little sense I possess.

I've been through enough to drive both suspicion and caution into this wooden head of mine----"

"What have you been through, Jim?" asked the Princess calmly.

"I'll tell you. I didn't play a brilliant role, I'm sorry to admit.

Not common sense but sheer luck pulled me through as far as your own doorstep. And there," he added disgustedly, "the G.o.ds no doubt grew tired of such an idiot, and they handed me what was coming to me."

He was so thoroughly and so boyishly ashamed and angry with himself that a faint smile flitted over the Princess Naa's lips.

"Proceed, James," she said.

"All right. Only first may I ask--who is Ilse Dumont?"

For a moment the Princess sat silent, expressionless, intent on the man whose clear, inquiring eyes still questioned her.

The Princess finally answered with a question:

"Did _she_ cause you any trouble, Jim?"

"Every bit I had was due to her. Also--and here's a paradox--I shouldn't be here now if Ilse Dumont had not played square with me.

Who is she?"

The Princess Naa did not reply immediately. Instead, she dropped one silken knee over the other, lighted a cigarette, and sat for a few moments gazing into s.p.a.ce. Then:

"Ilse Dumont," she said, "is a talented and exceedingly pretty young woman who was born in Alsace of one German and one thoroughly Germanised parent.

"She played two seasons in Chicago in light opera under another name.

She had much talent, an acceptable voice and she became a local favourite."

The Princess looked at her cigarette; continued speaking as though addressing it:

"She sang at the Opera Comique here in Paris the year before last and last year. Her roles were minor ones. Early this spring she abruptly broke her contract with the management and went to New York."

Neeland said bluntly:

"Ilse Dumont is an agent in the service of the Turkish Government."

The Princess nodded.

"Did you know it, Naa?"

"I began to suspect it recently."

"May I ask how?"

The Princess glanced at Rue and smiled:

"Ruhannah's friend, Colonel Izzet Bey, was very devoted to Minna Minti----"

"To _whom_!" exclaimed Neeland, astounded.

"To Ilse Dumont. Minna Minti is her stage name," said the Princess.

Neeland turned and looked at Rue, who, conscious of his excitement, flushed brightly, yet never suspecting what he was about to say.

The Princess said quietly:

"Yes, tell her, Jim. It is better she should know. Until now it has not been necessary to mention the matter, or I should have done so."

Rue, surprised, still prettily flushed with expectancy, looked with new curiosity from one to the other.

Neeland said:

"Ilse Dumont, known on the stage as Minna Minti, is the divorced wife of Eddie Brandes."

At the mention of a name so long hidden away, buried in her memory, and almost forgotten, the girl quivered and straightened up, as though an electric shock had pa.s.sed through her body.

Then a burning colour flooded her face as at the swift stroke of a lash, and her grey eyes glimmered with the starting tears.

"You'll have to know it, darling," said the Princess in a low voice.

"There is no reason why you should not; it no longer can touch you.

Don't you know that?"

"Y-yes----" Ruhannah's slowly drooping head was lifted again; held high; and the wet brilliancy slowly dried in her steady eyes.

"Before I tell you," continued Neeland, "what happened to me through Ilse Dumont, I must tell you what occurred in the train on my way to Paris.... May I have a cigarette, Princess Naa?"

"At your elbow in that silver box."

Rue Carew lighted it for him with a smile, but her hand still trembled.

"First," he said, "tell me what particular significance those papers in the olive-wood box have. Then I can tell you more intelligently what happened to me since I went to Brookhollow to find them."

"They are the German plans for the fortification of the mainland commanding the Dardanelles, and for the forts dominating the Gallipoli peninsula."

"Yes, I know that. But of what interest to England or France or Russia----"