Chapter 2

He came back with the case in his hand and said: "I saw you take out a card, sir, when we were at 12 Rue du Roi de Rome. You looked at it and put it back in the case. It is not there now, nor in any of your pockets, but I remember the address. Perhaps--" and he paused.

"Perhaps what?"

"You gave the very angry gentleman a card."

"Nonsense!" I returned. "Look again." I could see, by the faint smile and the slight uplift of the brow, that my valet appreciated the situation. He was gone for at least ten minutes. Meanwhile I sat still, more and more sure that I had made one of those blunders which might bear unpleasant interpretations. At length, impatient, I joined Alphonse in his search. It was vain. He stood at last facing me with a pair of pantaloons on one arm, a coat on the other, all the pockets turned inside out.

"Monsieur--circumstances--I mean it is to be feared--I have looked everywhere."

"It is incredible," said I.

"But the night, monsieur, and the storm, and the count, who was not polite."

He was sorry for me and perfectly understood what had happened. Yes, undoubtedly I had given the count Captain Merton's card. I said as much while Alphonse stood still with a look in which his constant sense of the comic contended for expression with his desire to sympathize in what he was shrewd enough to know was, for me, that form of the socially tragic which has for its catastrophe ridicule.

I went back to my salon and sat down to reflect on the consequences of my mishap. Of course, it was easy to set the matter right, but what a muddle! I must make haste in the morning to correct my blunder.

Desirous to be on time, about ten the next morning I called on the count. He had gone out. At the Foreign Office I again failed to find him. I was told that he had gone to his club for breakfast, but would be back very shortly. I waited a half-hour and then tried the club. He had left. Remembering that I had said I should be at home from eleven to twelve, I looked at my watch and saw, to my annoyance, that it was close to noon. I had hoped to anticipate the call of the count's seconds on Merton. I felt sure, however, that the captain would simply deny any share in my adventure, and that a word or a note from me to the count would set things straight. Although I regretted the delay my vain pursuit of the count had caused, a little reflection put me at ease, and calling a cab, I drove to Captain Merton's. I was so fortunate as to find him at home. As I entered he threw on the table a number of letters and made me welcome with a certain cordiality which in its manner had both refinement and the open-air frankness of a dweller in camps.

I liked him from the first, and being myself a small man, envied the six feet one of well-knit frame, and was struck with a way he had of quick backward head movement when the large blue eyes considered you with smiling attention. My first impression was that nothing as embarrassing as the absurd situation in which my blunder might have placed him could as yet have fallen upon this tranquil gentleman. There was therefore no occasion for haste.

We talked pleasantly of home, the war, my uncle, and Paris, and I was about to mention my mistake in regard to his card when he said rather abruptly:

"I should like you to advise me as to a rather odd affair--if not too late for advice.

"About eleven to-day, the Baron la Garde and a Colonel St. Pierre called upon me on the part of a certain Count le Moyne. The baron explained that, as a lady was involved, it would be better if it were supposed that we had quarreled at cards. As you may imagine, I rather surprised, and asked what he meant. He replied, and not very pleasantly, that I must know, as I had given my card to the count and said I should be at home from eleven to twelve. I said: 'Pardon me, gentlemen, but there is some mistake. I do not know Count le Moyne, and I never saw him. As to my card--I have given no one my card.' I was, of course, very civil and quiet in my denial, and the more so because the baron's manner was far from agreeable.

"Then the baron, to my amazement, handed me my own card, saying, 'Do we understand you to say that last night, in the Bois de Boulogne, you did not give Count le Moyne your card?'

"Now I am at times, Mr. Greville, short of temper, and the supply was giving out. I checked myself, however, and said as calmly as possible: 'Really, gentlemen, this is rather absurd. I was at home last night. I never saw or heard of your count, and you will be so good as to accept for him my absolute denial.'

"Upon this the baron said, 'It appears to us that you contradict flatly the statement of our principal, a man of the highest character, and that we are therefore forced to suppose that you are endeavoring to escape the consequence of having last night insulted the count.'

"Before I could reply, the other man--the colonel--remarked in a casual way that there was only one word to characterize my conduct. Here I broke in--but, for a wonder, kept myself in hand.

"I said: 'This has gone far enough. Count le Moyne has rather imprudent friends. Some one has played me and your principal a trick. At all events, I am not the man.'

"'Monsieur,' said the colonel, 'so you still deny--'

"'Wait a little,' said I. 'I allow no man to doubt my word. But let us be clear as to this. Am I to understand that the language now used to me represents the instructions of the count?'

"By George! the colonel said, 'Yes.' They really believed me to be lying. I had gotten past any desire to explain or contradict, and so I replied that it was all damn nonsense, but that I had supposed French gentlemen were on these occasions courteous.

"You should have seen the baron. He is as tall as I am, and must weigh two hundred and fifty pounds. He got red and said that if it were not for his principal's prior claim on me, he should himself at once call me to account. I replied sweetly that need not interfere, for that, after I had killed the count, I should be most glad to accommodate his friend. He did seem a bit amazed."

V

I was about to comment on this queer story when Merton said:

"Pardon me, I must first tell you all; then you will kindly say what you think of this amazing performance.

"The little colonel, who had the leanness and redness of a boiled shrimp, now took up the talk, and this other idiot said: 'My friend the baron will, no doubt, postpone the pleasure of meeting monsieur; and now, as monsieur is no longer indisposed to satisfy our principal, and, as we understand it, declines to explain or apologize,--in fact, admits, by his inclination to meet our friend, what he seemed to deny,--may we have the honor to know when monsieur's seconds will wait on us? Here is my card.'

"The little man was posing beautifully. I laid his card on the table and said, 'Be so good, gentlemen, as to understand that I have not retracted my statement, but that if the count insists, as you do, that I lie,--that, at least, is decent cause for a quarrel,--he can have it.'

"The little man replied that the count could not do otherwise.

"'Very good,' said I.--No, don't interrupt this charming story, Mr. Greville; let me go on. There is more of it and better.

"My colonel then said, 'We shall expect to hear from you--and, by the way, I understand from monsieur's card that he is an American.'

"I said, 'Yes; captain Second Infantry.'

"'Ah, a soldier--really! In the army of the Confederation, I presume. We shall be enchanted to meet monsieur's friends.'

"'What!' I said; 'does monsieur the colonel wish to insult me? I am of the North.'

"'A thousand pardons!'

"'No matter. You will hear from me shortly, or as soon as I am able to find gentlemen who will be my seconds.' This seemed to suit them until I remarked that, to save time, being the challenged party, I might as well say that my friends would insist on the rifle at thirty paces.

"'But monsieur, that is unusual, barbarous!' said the little man.

"'Indeed!' said I. 'Then suppose we say revolvers at twelve paces or less. I have no prejudices.' It seems that the baron had, for he said my new proposition was also unheard of, uncivilized.

"Upon this I stood up and said: 'Gentlemen, you have insisted on manufacturing for me a quarrel with a man I never saw, and have suggested--indeed, said--that I, a soldier, am afraid and have lied to you. I accepted the situation thus forced on me, and in place of the wretched little knitting-needles with which you fight child duels in France, I propose to take it seriously.'

"I saw the little man--the colonel--was beginning to fidget. As I stopped he said, 'Pardon me; I have not the honor fully to comprehend.'

"'Indeed?' said I. 'So far I have hesitated to ascribe to gentlemen, to a soldier, any motive for your difficulty in accepting weapons which involve peril, and I thought that I had at last done so. I do not see how I can make myself more clear.'

"'Sir,' said my little man, 'do I understand--'

"I was at the end of the sweetest temper west of the Mississippi. I broke into English and said: 'You may understand what you damn please.'

"You see, Mr. Greville, it was getting to be fatiguing--these two improbable Frenchmen. I suppose the small man took my English as some recondite insult, for he drew himself up, clicked his heels together, and said, 'I shall have the honor to send to monsieur those who will ask him, for me,--for me, personally,--to translate his words, and, I trust, to withdraw the offensive statement which, no doubt, they are meant to convey.'

"I replied that I had no more to say, except that I should instruct my friends to abide by the weapons I had mentioned. On this he lost his temper and exclaimed that it was murder. I said that was my desire; that they were hard to please; and that bowie-knives exhausted the list of weapons I should accept.

"The colonel said further that, as I seemed to be ignorant of the customs of civilized countries, it appeared proper to let me know that the seconds were left to settle these preliminaries, and he supposed that I was making a jest of a grave situation.

"When I replied that he was as lacking in courtesy as the baron, the little man became polite and regretted that the prior claim of of his two friends would, he feared, deprive him of the pleasure of exacting that satisfaction which he still hoped circumstances would eventually afford him. He was queerly precise and too absurd for belief.

"I replied lightly that I should be sorry if any accident were to deprive him of the happiness of meeting me, but that I had the pleasant hope of being at his service after I had shot the count and the baron. I began to enjoy this unique situation.

"The colonel said I was most amiable--but really, my dear Mr. Greville, it is past my power to do justice to this scene. They were like the Count Considines and the Irish gentlemen in Lever's novels."

"And was that all?" I asked.

"No, not quite. After the colonel ceased to criticize my views of the duel, he again informed me that his own friends would call upon me to withdraw my injurious language. Then these two peacemakers departed. Now what do you think of my comedy?"

I had listened in amazement to this arrangement--three duels as the sequel of my adventure! As Merton ended, he burst into a roar of laughter.

"Now," he said, "what will they do?--rifle, revolver, or bowie? By George, I am like D'Artagnan--my second day in Paris and three duels on my hands! Isn't it jolly?"

That was by no means my opinion. "Mr. Merton," I said, "I came here about this very matter."

"Indeed! How can that be? Pray go on--and did any man ever hear of such a mix-up? Where do you come in?"

"I will tell you. Last night in the dark, by mishap, I gave this infernal count your card instead of my own."

"The deuce you did! Great Scott, what fun!"

"Yes, I did." I went on to relate my encounter with the lady, and the manner in which Count le Moyne had behaved.

"What an adventure! I am so sorry I was not in your place. What a fine mystery! But what will you do? Was she his wife? I have had many adventures, but nothing to compare with this. I envy you. And you were sure she was not his wife?"

"No, she was not his wife; and as to what I shall do, it is simple. I shall go to the count and explain the card and my mistake. I meant to anticipate the visit to you of Count le Moyne's seconds. I am sorry to have been late."

"Sorry! Not I. It is immense!"

"The count will call me out. There will be the usual farce of a sword duel. I am in fair practice. This will relieve you so far as concerns the count, and nobody else will fight you with the weapons you offer."

"Won't they, indeed? I have been insulted. Do you suppose I can sit quiet under it? No, Mr. Greville. You, I hope, may make yourself unpleasant to this count, but I shall settle with him and the others, too. Did I happen to mention that I told them I did not fight with knitting-needles?"

"You did."

"They seemed annoyed."

"Probably," said I. Although the whole affair appeared to me comical, it had, too, its possible tragedy.

"Well," I continued, "I shall find the count, and set right the matter of the cards. After that we may better see our way. These matters are never hurried over here. Dine with me to-night at my rooms at seven-thirty; and meanwhile, as for the baron--"

"Oh, the baron--you should see him. I came near to calling him Porthos to his face. I wish I had."

"And the small man, the colonel--"

"Oh, yes--shade of Dumas! He may pass for Aramis."

I laughed. "By the way," I added, "he is one of the best blades in France."

"Is he? However he comes in third. But can he shoot? If I accept the sword,--and it may come to that,--I am pretty sure to be left with something to remember. If we use rifles, I assure you they will remember me still longer or not at all." There was savage menace in his blue eyes as he spoke. "But is it not ridiculous?"

I said it was.

"And now about this count who is interested in the anonymous lady. I suppose he may pass for Athos. That makes it complete. Have some rye. Smuggled it. Said it was medicine. The customs fellow tried it neat, and said I had poisoned him."

I declined the wine of my country, and answered him that Athos, as I had learned, was a man of high character who had lately joined the Foreign Office, a keen imperialist, happily married and rich.

"Then certainly it cannot be the wife."

"No, I think I said so; I am thankful to be able to say that it is not. But what part the woman has in this muddle is past my comprehension."

"Stop a little," said my D'Artagnan. "You are having a good deal of trouble to keep this short-legged Emperor from getting John Bull and the rest to bully us into peace."

"Yes, there has been trouble brewing all summer." I could not imagine what the man was after.

"Well, the woman seemed pleased when she learned that you were an American. You said so, and also that the count charged you with being in that affair. He slipped up a bit there. He seemed to believe you to be engaged in something of which he did not want to talk freely."

"Yes, that is true."

The blue eyes held mine for a moment, and then he inquired, "Was she--" and he paused.

"My dear captain, she is an American and a lady."

"I ask her pardon. A lady? You are sure she is a lady?"

"Yes."

"Then it is a matter of--let me think--not jealousy? Hardly. We may leave that out."

"Certainly."

"Don't you catch on, Mr. Greville?"

"No, I must say I do not."

"Well, consider it coolly. Exclude love, jealousy, any gross fraud, and what is left? What can be left?"

"I do not know."

"How about politics," he smiled. "How does that strike you?"

The moment he let fall this key-word, "Politics," I began to suspect that he was right. The woman had exhibited relief when I had said I was an American. We lived in a maze of spies of nearly every class of life, rarely using the post-office, trusting no one. With our own secret agents I had little to do. The first secretary or the minister saw them, and we were not badly served either in England or France; but all this did not do more than enable me to see my D'Artagnan's notion as possibly a reasonable guess.

After a moment's thought I said: "You may be right; but even if you are, the matter remains a problem which we are very unlikely ever to solve. But how can a handsome young American woman be so deeply concerned in some political affair as to account for this amazing conduct of a secretary not yet a week old in the work of the imperial Foreign Office."

Merton smiled. "We exhaust personal motives--what else is left? Politics! She may know something which it seems to be desirable she should not know. We must find her."

The more I considered his theory, the more I inclined to doubt it. At all events as things stood it was none of our business--and after a moment's reflection I said:

"We have quite enough on our hands without the woman. I shall see the count to-day, and then we may be in a better position to know what further should be done."

"Done?" laughed the captain. "I shall give all three fools what is called satisfaction. I don't take much stock in them. I hate Aramis. It's the woman interests me the most."

"The woman? I assure you, I am out of that."

"Oh, no, no! We must find her. She is in trouble."

I laughed. "Can we find her?"

"We must. I like her looks."

"But you never saw her."

"No. But the most beautiful woman is always the one I never saw."

He was delightful, my D'Artagnan, with his amused acceptance of three duels, and now his interest in an unknown woman. But I held fast to my opinion, and after some further talk I went away to make my belated explanation to Count le Moyne.

VI

After dinner that evening Merton and I settled ourselves in my little salon with coffee, cognac, and cigars. Merton said:

"Are we safe here?"

"Yes. There are two doors, and the outer one I have locked. My last valet was a spy. The information he got for their Foreign Office must have been valuable. My present man--the fellow who waited on us just now--is also a spy," and upon this I told the captain of my arrangement with Alphonse.

He was much amused. "Can you really trust him?" he said.

"Yes, he has an old mother whom I have seen and have helped. I believe that it is his desire and interest to serve me and at the same time to keep his place as a paid spy."

"What a droll arrangement! And are you really sure of him?"

"Yes, as far as one can be sure of any one in this tangle of spies."

"But does he not--must he not--seem to earn his outside pay?"

"Yes, seem. I will call him in. He will talk if I assure him that he is safe."

"Delightful--most delightful! By all means!"

I rang for Alphonse.

"Alphonse," I said, "this gentleman is my friend. He cannot quite believe that you can be true to me and yet satisfy your superiors in the police."

"Oh, monsieur!" exclaimed Alphonse. He was evidently hurt.

"To relieve him, tell monsieur of our little arrangement."

"The letters, monsieur?"

"Yes."

"Well, my master is kind enough to leave open certain letters. They have been found to be of interest. My pay has been raised. Circumstances make it desirable."

"What is her name?" said Merton, laughing.

"Louise."

"What letters, Greville, do you turn over for the recreation and service of the Foreign Office?"

"My uncle's," said I, "usually."

"Ah, I see. The old gentleman's opinions must be refreshing--authoritative they are, I am sure. When last I saw him he had, as usual, secret intelligence from the army. He always has. I think with joy of the effect of his letters on the young secretaries of the Foreign Office."

I confessed my own pleasure in the game, and was about to let Alphonse go when Merton said:

"May I take a great liberty?"

"Certainly," I laughed--"short of taking Alphonse. What is it?"

"Alphonse," asked Merton, "would you know the lady you followed and guided that night in the Bois?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Do you want to make two hundred francs?"

"Without doubt."

"Find that woman and I will give you three hundred."

"It will be difficult. Paris is large and women are numerous."

"Yes, but there is the Count le Moyne as a clue."

"Yes, yes." He seemed to be thinking. Then he turned to me.

"If monsieur approves and can do without me for two days?"

"Certainly." I was not very anxious to add the woman to our increasing collection of not easily solved problems, but Merton was so eager that I decided to make this new move in our complicated game.

Alphonse stood still a moment.

"Well?" I said.

"The lady, monsieur,--she is, I think, not French."

"No; she is an American, and that is all we know."

"But that is much. Then I am free to-morrow?"

"Yes," and he left us.

"What a fine specimen!" said the captain; "scamp rather than scoundrel. Well, I suppose I shall hear from the count and Porthos and the little man with the pink kid gloves--Aramis. I hate the little animal, but Porthos--I want you to see Porthos. He has gigantic manners. He is so conscious of his bigness, and makes chests at you like a pouter pigeon. He has a bass voice like a war-drum. Things shake. Oh, I like Porthos. Pardon my nonsense, Greville, but the whole thing is so big, so grotesquely huge. Tell me about Athos, the count. Your cigars were not bought in France; may I have another? Thanks. You were to see him to-day."

"Yes; I called on him, and I assure you," I replied, "that nothing you have told me is more wonderful than my sequel. I did think you had the original _trois mousquetaires_ rather too much on your mind, but really, the resemblance is certainly fascinating."

"But what about the count? You have seen him, I suppose."

"Yes, I saw Count le Moyne. He lives in a charming little hôtel near the Parc Monceaux. He had my card in his hand when I entered. He welcomed me quite warmly, and said, 'It is odd, as you are of your legation, that we have never met; but then I am only of late transferred from Vienna. Pray sit down.'

"I was sure that for a fraction of a moment he did not identify me, but as I spoke, my voice, as so often happens, revealed more than the darkness had made visible. I observed at once that, although still extremely courteous, he became more cool and looked puzzled.

"I said: 'Monsieur, last night, in the darkness, I gave you by mistake the card of my friend Captain Merton in place of my own. I have called in person solely to apologize for my blunder.' As I spoke I stood up, adding, 'As this is my only purpose, I shall leave you to rearrange matters as may seem best to you.'

VII

"As I turned to go he said: 'May I ask you to sit down? Now that I know you to be of your legation, and I being, as you are aware, in the Foreign Office, an affair between us would be for both services unadvisable. Having left myself in the hands of my friends, I am now doing, as you will understand, an unusual thing; but whatever may be the result, I feel that, as a gentleman, you will hold me excused. There _was_ a woman in your carriage. Of course our police found the cabman and got it out of him. I have no direct personal interest in her--none; nor can I explain myself further. I regret that in the annoyance of my failure to effect my purpose I was guilty of a grave discourtesy. If you had told me that you would send your seconds to me to-day, I should have felt that you were fully justified. I can very well afford to say that I owe you an apology; and, fortunately, my friends will have learned that I sent them to the wrong man and will return for instructions. If, however, you feel--'

"'Oh, no,' I said; 'pardon me, I am quite willing to forget an unfortunate incident, and to add that the lady, by the merest accident, took shelter from the rain in my carriage. I never met her before.'