The Perils of Pauline Part 48

"And great honor," paid the woman he loved.

For a moment their eyes met, but only for a moment. The next, Catin, the valet, who was taking charge of the luncheon, under pretense of antic.i.p.ating a waiter moved quickly to fill her wine gla.s.s. Even the subtle eye of Owen was not sharp enough to see Mlle. de Longeon pa.s.s him a crushed slip of paper, and she had been too long trained to concealment of even the simplest emotions to betray uneasiness now.

Nevertheless, there was the possibility of surprising Mlle. de Longeon, and that possibility was realized as she glanced at Raymond Owen. His set, tense face reflected for the moment all his hatred of Harry and Pauline, who were talking blithely with Ensign Summers, another naval officer and two of the wives of the civilian visitors. She turned to him with a suddenness that would have seemed abrupt in the manner of one less beautiful.

"Mr. Owen, do come to see me," she said. "I am sure--at least I think I am sure--that we have many matters of mutual interest."

In her softly modulated tones, the invitation had no significance beyond the literal meaning of the words.

"It will be an honor," he answered.

"Tomorrow evening, then?"

"Delighted. And, later, the Naval Ball?"

"No, I'm afraid the Ensign will not permit any one else to take me to the ball; but we shall meet there, afterward."

In a New York street, among the lower there was at that time a foreign agency that was not a consulate, but was visited by diplomats of the highest rank in a certain nation, the name of which, or the mystery of whose suspicions, need not be touched upon.

There was no regular staff at the agency. The rooms were maintained under the name of a certain foreign gentleman--or, rather, under the name that he chose to a.s.sume. There were two servants, but they saw little of the master of the house. He was seldom at home, but when he was, he had many visitors.

An hour after the luncheon in the rooms of Ensign Summers, the master of the mysterious dwelling was at home. And he had four guests. It would have, greatly surprised Ensign Summers had he known that one of the diplomat's guests was his own man servant, Catin.

"It is the worst duty I have ever had to perform," the diplomat said solemnly. "It means, almost certainly, your death. But it is death for your country. It is the command of your country. The submarine must be destroyed and the plans--we shall get the plans through another agent."

"I am not afraid to die," said Catin.

"Then here is the model of a submarine--not of the one you will enter, of course, but it will give you an idea. I have marked the place where you will secrete the explosive until the proper moment. I have also indicated the position for you to take in order to have some faint chance of reaching the surface and being saved."

One of the other men stepped forward and handed Catin a small square box. "This is the explosive. You know how to handle it."

With a military salute, Catin turned and left the place. Within half an hour he was carefully brus.h.i.+ng Ensign Summers' clothes, as Summers came in.

"Would it be too much to ask, sir," inquired the perfect valet, "that I might accompany you in the submarine? I am afraid you will be very uncomfortable without me."

Summers laughed good-naturedly.

"It's impossible, Catin. This boat is a government secret in itself, and my new torpedo makes it a double secret. No one but a picked crew will be allowed on it, except--"

"'Except, sir?"

"Well, I admit I could command it. But it would be very unwise, Catin, and, I a.s.sure you, I shall get along all right."

Mlle. de Longeon's apartment was characteristic of the lady herself.

The artist would have found it a little too luxurious for good taste-- a little over-toned in the richness of draperies, the heavy scent of flowers, the subtleties of half-screened divans--there was something more than feminine--something feline. To Raymond Owen, however, it was ideal. The dimmed ruby lights, the suggestive shadows of the tapestries, were in tune with the surrept.i.tious mind of the secretary.

But there remained for him a picture that he admired more--Mlle. de Longeon coming through the portieres with a cry of pleasure.

"I am so glad you came--and so sorry I must send you away quickly,"

exclaimed Mlle. de Longeon. "The little ensign has telephoned that he is coming early to take me for a drive before the ball."

"I can come again--if I may have the honor," said Owen, rising quickly.

"Oh, there is time for a word," she said, smiling.

"There was something you wished to say to me, was there not? Something you did not care to say at the luncheon yesterday?"

"Yes. Why do you hate Miss Marvin?"

Owen was silent for a moment. "Why do you hate the little ensign, as you call another?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that we can be of service to one another, in all likelihood, and that, therefore, we should be frank friends. You wish to have Pauline Marvin out of the way, do you not?"

"How did you find that out?"

"People engaged in similar business find out many things. Now I--"

"Wish to be rid of Ensign Summers."

"Precisely."

"You are an international agent?"

"Yes. And I offer you my aid and the aid of the powerful men I control in return for your aid to me and them. Is it a bargain?"

They were seated on one of the curtained divans, a low-turned light above them. She leaned forward. Her long, delicate hand touched his.

A splendid jewel at her throat heightened the magic of her beauty.

"Because it is my business to hate him--and make love to him at the same time. Come, Mr. Owen, let us be frank."

For the first time in his life Owen felt himself mastered by the sheer fascination of a woman. "What am I to do?" he said breathlessly.

"I will tell you tonight at the ball. Now you must run away."

He arose instantly, but as she stood beside him, he turned, caught her in his arms and kissed her pa.s.sionately.

She protested with a little cry and a struggle not too violent to damage her coiffure. He drew back from her. There was something of astonishment in his eyes--astonishment at himself.

"You are the only woman in the world who ever made me do that," he gasped.

"Go, go," she pleaded.

"But you are angry? You break our agreement?"

"No, but I am overcome. I shall meet you tonight."

He caught her hand to his lips, and hurried from the house.