The Intriguers Part 17

Golitzine drew a breath of relief. It was as he had hoped. The young musician had placed his fancy on one far removed from him, by rank and position. The comparatively coa.r.s.e charm of the handsome singer could not compete with the youthful beauty of the Princess Nada. A benign expression stole over his lined face.

"And if you knew that Madame Quero was taking advantage of the hospitality of this country, of her apparently neutral position, to conspire and plot with his Majesty's sworn enemies, you would be hand and glove with us to find out what you could in order to frustrate her designs?"

"a.s.suredly, your Excellency." Nello had started from his seat and spoken with fervour. "My duty and my allegiance is to the Emperor, yourself, and the Baron Salmoros. Madame Quero, good friend as I believed her to be, counts as nothing."

"That is precisely what I want to be a.s.sured of," said the Count.

"Now, Signor, put that question I suggested to Madame Quero. It may be she will tell you a deliberate lie. It may be she will seek to entangle you in this plot, and make you one of the conspirators as the price of her favour. I should prefer that, but I think she is too clever to do it. Anyway, report to me how things go, which way they go. And I rely upon it, that you are a faithful servant of the House of Romanoff."

Nello a.s.sured him that he was, and returned to his hotel full of thought.

So this was what the apparently benevolent Salmoros had secured him for, to be a spy of the Russian Government. At first he felt a little indignant. La Belle Quero might be a traitress, a conspirator, but was it his mission to unmask her?

Then his shrewd Latin sense came to his aid. Whatever their ulterior motives, his powerful friends had incidentally helped him, and his bounden duty was to them. If the handsome Spanish woman, who should have no part or lot in the political concerns of Russia, had chosen to mix herself up with a lot of base intriguers, that was her business.

It was, after all, diamond cut diamond.

Perhaps he was the more impelled to the cause which the wily Golitzine had urged him to take, by the rumour in the circles where he chiefly mixed that the names of Prince Zouroff and La Belle Quero were generally coupled together. It was currently reported that as soon as the beautiful singer could get a divorce from her complacent fisherman, she would marry the Prince. But in Roman Catholic countries divorce is not easily to be obtained, and the fascinating Madame Quero was still united to the lover of her youth. And according to further rumour, Zouroff was not inclined to hurry matters on. As a matter of fact, he was much more interested in other things. Perhaps, also, the lady was not quite so keen as formerly.

So Nello resolved to play his part, the part that it was his bounden duty to play. If the Spanish woman and her confederates were playing a low-down game, he was playing a straight one by outwitting them, in the interests of the Imperial House which had shown him such remarkable favour.

That night the two met, as Madame Quero was going to her dressing-room. She had sung better than ever that evening, never had she aroused greater enthusiasm. Her eyes were sparkling, her cheeks were glowing with triumph. She met Corsini's cold glance, and her smile faded away.

"You do not seem very amiable to-night, Signor. Have I had the misfortune to offend you in any way?"

The appealing look she darted at him was certainly that of a woman more or less in love. For a moment, Nello felt a little ashamed of the part he had to play; it seemed cowardly to hurt a woman. But after all, his duty was to his benefactors, and if she was the traitress they alleged she deserved no mercy.

Nello bowed, but made no immediate response. He was on the point of moving away, when she laid a detaining hand upon his arm.

"Stay, I beseech you! Why are you so cold? I have sung better than ever to-night, and yet you offer me no word of congratulation. Many a time, when I have sung badly, you have been profuse of your praises, and I thought we were such good friends!"

Nello saw his opportunity at once. "I used to think, Madame, that we were very good friends."

"And has anything happened to alter your previous opinion?" inquired Madame Quero in a faltering voice.

Again the young Italian made a movement to pa.s.s on, and again the impetuous woman detained him.

"If you please, we will not leave it where it is, with studied coldness on your part. Please tell me how I have offended you."

Nello spoke with exaggerated courtesy. "Madame, I am too humble to have the right to be offended. I, the mere Director of an Opera, you, one of the idols of Europe."

The _prima donna_ stamped an impatient foot. "Signor Corsini, you are trying my patience unduly. It is easy to see that you have some fancied grievance. Will you be good enough to explain what it is, or at any rate the nature of it?"

Corsini looked at her steadily. "Madame, you have been good enough to call me your friend. If that is the case, why have I not been invited to those little private suppers at your villa? So many go, that one more would not have made a serious addition."

Her face went as white as death. "Who has told you such a falsehood?"

she stammered.

Nello never took his eyes off her. The white face, the stammering tongue, proved that Golitzine was right. She had secret parties at her villa, and she was dismayed to find that anybody had heard of them.

"A friend of mine, whose name I must not reveal, Madame."

Without another word Madame Quero went to her dressing-room. From there she despatched a hasty note to Prince Zouroff.

CHAPTER XIII

La Belle Quero and the Prince Zouroff were sitting together in the boudoir of the small villa on the outskirts of St. Petersburg.

They were both smoking cigarettes. Madame Quero looked anxious and perturbed, Zouroff surly and annoyed.

"Inez, you are very unreasonable. Why have you dragged me here at this time of night? If your note had not said 'very urgent,' I should not have taken myself away from more important matters."

La Belle Quero flicked the ash of her cigarette on the carpet. "Once, my friend, you would have come on the slightest request from me. I should not have been compelled to mark my note urgent, eh?"

The Prince answered a little awkwardly. "Don't let us be too sentimental, dear child. We have been good friends, we have got to a closer degree of comrades.h.i.+p. Is it not an ideal relations.h.i.+p? Well, what have you to tell me? You have not summoned me here for nothing, I am sure?"

"Not even for the pleasure of your society, my most charming and exquisite Boris?" inquired the _prima donna_, in a tone of raillery.

The Prince frowned. At the moment, the light caprices of women did not appeal to him.

"You are talking nonsense, my dear Inez. Let us come to the point."

The Spanish woman came to the point at once, with an angry glitter in her eyes. What a pity that Zouroff was not a little more gentle in his dealings with women!

"Our little secret evening parties have been discovered, that is all.

It may give you and me food for reflection."

The Prince drew a deep breath. "Discovered! It is impossible. Who dares to suspect us?"

"It does not matter who suspects us. It is enough that we are suspected. I suppose the Secret Police have been at work."

Zouroff thought a few moments, and then a sudden light came to him. He crossed over and grasped the beautiful young woman by the arm.

"Tell me the truth and don't palter with me," he thundered in his harsh, raucous tones. "Where have you this information? But I can answer the question myself. It is from that white-livered Italian, Corsini. He is a spy in the pay of Golitzine."

Madame Quero endeavoured to utter a faltering negative, but Zouroff, always fond of brutal methods, tightened his grasp on the delicate flesh.

Under the hypnotic influence of this brutal and commanding man, she stammered forth the truth.

"You have guessed right. It was Corsini who told me, in a very brief interview. He had heard the rumour from a friend."

Zouroff smiled. It was a very sinister smile at the best. The lips curled up, the strong, white, even teeth showed themselves, suggesting the fangs of a wolf.

"So this degenerate Italian is daring to thrust himself across our path, is he? Well, then! _the Italian mountebank must disappear_."

Madame Quero rose to her full height and braved the brutal and truculent Prince.