The Lost Ambassador by E. Phillips Oppenheim (robert munsch read aloud .txt) 📖

finger suddenly.

"Listen!" she exclaimed, in a voice of terror.

Footsteps had halted outside the door. She ran to the window and looked down. In the street below was standing an automobile with yellow wheels. I was looking over her shoulder, and she clutched my arm.

"It is he—Bartot!" she cried. "He is here at the private entrance. Some one has told him that I am here. Mon Dieu! It is he outside now!"

It was bad acting, and I laughed.

"Mademoiselle," I said, "if Monsieur Bartot is your lover, be thankful that you have nothing with which to reproach yourself."

I rang the bell. She looked at me for a moment with eyes filled with a genuine fear. Obviously she did not understand my attitude. From my trousers pocket I drew a little revolver, whose settings and mechanism I carefully examined. There was a loud knock at the door and the sound of voices outside. Monsieur Bartot entered, in a frock-coat too small for him and a tie too large. When he saw us he fell back with a theatrical start.

"Susette!" he exclaimed. "Susette! And you, sir!" he added, turning to me.

He slammed the door and stood with his back to it.

"What the devil is the meaning of this?" he asked, looking from one to the other of us.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"You had better ask mademoiselle," I answered.

"She is, I believe, an acquaintance of yours. As for me—"

"My name is Bartot, sir," he cried fiercely.

"An excellent name," I answered, "but unknown to me. I do not yet understand by what right you intrude into a private room here."

He laughed hardly.

"'Intrude'!" he cried. "One does not call it that. 'Intrude,' when I find you two together, eh?"

I turned to the girl, who, with her handkerchief dabbed to her eyes, was still affecting a perfect frenzy of fear.

"Has this person any claims upon you?" I asked. "He seems to me to be an exceedingly disagreeable fellow."

Bartot's face grew purple. His cheeks seemed to distend and his eyes grow smaller. It was no longer necessary for him to play a part. He was becoming angry indeed.

"Monsieur," he said, "I remember you now. It was you who tried to flirt with this lady last night in the Café des Deux Épingles. You have not even the excuse of ignorance. All the world knows that I have claims upon this lady."

I bowed.

"Claims," I answered, "which I can assure you I am not in a position to dispute."

"How is it, then," he asked fiercely, "that I find you two, strangers last night, together to-day here?"

I altered one of the cartridges in my revolver and let it go with a snap. Bartot took a quick step backwards.

"It is a long story," I said softly, "and I doubt whether it would interest you, Monsieur Bartot. Still, if you are really curious, mademoiselle will satisfy you later."

I saw a look pass between the two, and I no longer had any doubt whatever. I knew that they were in collusion, that I had been brought here to be pumped by mademoiselle.

"Monsieur," Bartot said, "you are apparently armed, and you can leave this room if you will, but I warn you that you will not leave Paris so easily."

The situation was quite plain to me. However little flattering it might be to my vanity, I should not have been in the least surprised if Monsieur Bartot had held out his hands, begged my pardon, and ordered a bottle of wine.

"Be reasonable, monsieur," I begged. "It is open to every one, surely, to admire mademoiselle? For the rest, I have been here only a few moments. So far as I am concerned," I added, glancing at the table, "mademoiselle has lunched alone."

"If I could believe that!" Bartot muttered, with a look of coming friendship in his eyes.

"Mademoiselle will assure you," I continued.

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked.

I raised my eyebrows.

"I was not aware," I said, "that this was a private restaurant."

"But these are private rooms," he answered. "Still, if it was a mistake,—I trust mademoiselle always."

She held out her hands to him with a theatrical gesture.

"Henri," she cried, "you could not doubt me! It is impossible!"

"You are right," he answered quickly. "I was too hasty."

I smiled upon them both.

"Mademoiselle," I said, "I am sorry that our pleasant little conversation has been interrupted. Believe me, though, to be always your devoted slave."

I opened the door. Monsieur Bartot turned towards me. I am convinced that he was about to offer me his hand and to call for that bottle of wine. I felt, however, that flight was safest. I went out and closed the door.

"The bill, monsieur?" a waiter called after me as I descended the stairs.

I gave him five francs for a pour boire.

"Monsieur there will pay," I told him, pointing towards the room.

CHAPTER VIII LOUIS INSISTS

I arrived at the Ritz to find Louis walking impatiently up and down the stone-flagged pavement outside the entrance. He came up to me eagerly as I approached.

"I have been waiting for you for more than an hour!" he exclaimed.

I looked at him in some surprise. I had not yet grown accustomed to hear him speak in such a tone.

"Did I say that I was coming straight back?" I asked.

"Of course not," he answered. "After you left, though, I had some trouble with Monsieur Grisson. There is a chance that we may have to move Tapilow to a hospital, and he is just one of those fools who talk. Monsieur Grisson insists upon it that you leave Paris by the four o'clock train this afternoon."

I shook my head.

"I could not catch it," I declared. "It is half-past three now."

"On the other hand, you can and you must," Louis answered. "I took the liberty of telephoning in your name and ordering the valet to pack your clothes. Your luggage is in the hall there, and that automobile is waiting to take you to the Gare du Nord."

I opened my mouth to protest, but Louis' manner underwent a further change.

"Captain Rotherby," he said, "it is I and my friends who save you, perhaps, from a considerable inconvenience. Forgive me if I remind you of this, but it is not fitting that you should argue with us on this matter."

Louis was right. For more reasons than he knew of, it was well that I should leave Paris.

"Are you coming with me?" I asked.

"I am crossing by the night boat," Louis answered. "I have not quite finished the work for which I came over. I have some things to buy."

I smiled.

"Upon my word," I said, "I had forgotten your profession."

I went back into the hotel and paid my bill. Louis drove with me to the station and saw to the registration of my luggage. Afterwards he found my reserved seat, in which I arranged my rug and books. Then I turned and walked down the corridor with him.

"I trust," he said, "that monsieur will have a pleasant journey and pleasant companions."

I glanced into the coupé which we were just passing. It seemed curious that even as the wish left his lips I should find myself looking into the dark eyes of the girl whose face had been so often in my thoughts during the last few days! Opposite her was the gray-bearded man Delora, already apparently immersed in a novel. Every seat in the compartment was laden with their small belongings,—dressing-bags, pillows, a large jewel-case, books, papers, flowers, and a box of chocolates. I turned to Louis.

"Again," I remarked, "we meet friends. What a small place the world is!"

We stepped down on to the platform. Louis, for some reason, seemed slightly nervous. He glanced up at the clock and watched the few late arrivals with an interest which was almost intense.

"Monsieur," he said, a little abruptly, "there is a question which I should like to ask you before you leave."

"There are a good many I should like to ask you, Louis," I answered, "but they will keep. Go ahead."

"I should like to know," Louis said, "where you spent the hour which passed between your leaving the Café Normandy and arriving at the Ritz."

I hesitated for a moment. After all, I had no reason to keep my movements secret. It was better, indeed, to avoid complications so far as possible.

"You shall know if you like, Louis," I said. "I kept my appointment with the young lady of the turquoises."

Louis' pale face seemed suddenly strained.

"It was my fault!" he muttered. "I should not have left you! You do not understand how those affairs are here in Paris! If Bartot knew—"

"Bartot did know," I interrupted.

Louis' face was a study.

"Bartot came in while I was talking to mademoiselle," I said.

"There was a scene?" Louis inquired breathlessly. "Bartot threatened monsieur? Perhaps there were blows?"

"Nothing of the sort," I answered. "Bartot blustered a little and mademoiselle wrung her hands, but they played their parts badly. Between you and me, Louis, I have a sort of an idea that Bartot's coming was not altogether accidental."

"It was a trap," Louis murmured softly. "But why?"

I shook my head.

"Louis," I said, "I am the wrong sort of man to be even a temporary dweller in this nest of intrigue. I do not understand it at all. I do not understand any of you. I only know that I owe you and those other gentlemen a very considerable debt, and I have been solemnly warned against you by the young lady whom I met at the Café de Paris. I have been assured that association with you is the first step toward my undoing. Monsieur Bartot, for all his bluster, seemed very anxious to be friendly."

"It was the girl!" Louis exclaimed. "Bartot was too big a fool to understand!"

I sighed.

"I fear that I am in the same position as Monsieur Bartot," I said. "I do not understand!"

There was a warning cry. I had only just time to swing myself on to the slowly moving train. Louis ran for a moment by the side.

"Those people are harmless," he said. "They merely wished, if they could, to make use of you. Mademoiselle has tied other fools to her chariot wheels before now, that Bartot may grow fat. But, monsieur!"

I leaned over to catch his words.

"If Monsieur or Mademoiselle Delora should address you," he said, "you need have no fear. They are not of the same order as Bartot and Susette."

"I will remember," I answered, waving my farewells.

I regained my compartment, which I was annoyed to find had filled up till mine was the only vacant seat. I had not had time to buy any papers or magazines, but, after all, I had enough to interest me in my thoughts. Of Tapilow I scarcely thought at all. He and I had met, and I had kept my oath. So far as I was concerned, that was the end. I had not even any fears for my own safety as regards this matter. My interview with Decresson and his friend had had a curiously convincing effect upon me. I felt that I had been tried for my crime, and acquitted, in the most orthodox fashion. For me the curtain had fallen upon that tragedy. It was the other things which occupied my mind. I seemed to have found my way into a maze, to have become mixed up in certain affairs in a most mysterious and inexplicable way. What was the meaning of that place to which Louis had introduced me? Was it some sort of secret organization,—an organization which assumed to itself, at any rate, the power to circumvent the police? And Bartot, too! Had he really the power which Louis had declared him to possess? If so, why had he baited a clumsy trap for me and permitted me to walk out of it untouched? What did they want from me, these people? The thought was utterly confusing. I could find absolutely no explanation. Then, again, another puzzle remained. I remembered Louis' desire, almost command, that I should return to London by this particular