The Secret Of The Magnifique - Sleep Story (Part Two Of 2)

In this, the second of a two-part short story, the mysterious Mr. Laxworthy hires two ex-cons for a job in the south of France. But the self-described "adventurer" isn't after money. His eyes are on greater prizes - the most valuable secret of the French navy and the reputation of two very important men. This short mystery was written by E. Phillips Oppenheim in the early 1920s. It is abridged and performed for Insight Timer by English author S D HUDSON.

Transcript

The Secret of the Magnifique by E. Phillips Oppenheim abridged by S. D. Hudson Part 2 I begin to believe, Anderson declared, That the Paradise Hotel really is our destination. There is no hurry, Laxworthy replied. Grimes once told me this room in which we are now sitting was perhaps the most interesting rendezvous in Europe. Grimes was at the head of the Foreign Department in Scotland Yard. He knew what he was talking about. As they spoke, A woman wrapped in magnificent furs was passing their table. She dropped a satchel from her finger as she was run into by a clumsy waiter. Sydney jumped up and restored it to her and was rewarded by a gracious smile in which was mingled a certain amount of recognition. You seem fated to be my good Samaritan today, She remarked. It's my good fortune. Can I help you get a table? This place is always overcrowded. The lady motioned with her head to where a maitre d'hotel was holding a chair for her. It was arranged, She said. Perhaps we shall meet in the Lux afterwards if we're going south. You're travelling far? Sydney ventured to inquire. To the outskirts of the Riviera, She answered. The Paradise Hotel. Why do you smile? My friends and I, Sydney explained, Have met here to decide upon the whereabouts of a little holiday. We were at that moment discussing a suggestion to see to the same place. The lady gave him a little farewell and she passed on. I congratulate you, Laxworthy remarked dryly as Sydney resumed his seat. A most interesting acquaintance. Do you know who she is? The young man asked. I only met her on the train. His chief nodded gravely. Her husband at one time held a post in the Foreign Office under 4A. For some reason or other he was discredited and since then he's died. There was some scandal about her and some papers which were missing from her husband's portfolio but nothing definite ever came to light. Madame seems to have survived the loss of her husband, Mr Forrest Allison remarked looking across at her, Admiringly. Laxworthy held up his hand. Almost for the first time he was sitting upright in his chair, His head still thrust forward in his usual attitude, His eyes fixed upon the door. The thin fingers of his right hand were spread flat upon the tablecloth. Here comes the food for giants, He said. The light of battle was in Laxworthy's eyes. The greatest of men have their moments of weakness Laxworthy, For that brief space of time, Forgot himself and his pose towards the wall. His thin nips were a little parted, His veins at the side of his forehead stood out like blue cords. You can both look, He said. They're probably used to it. Here you will see the two greatest personages on earth. His companions glanced eagerly towards the door. Two men were standing there, Being relieved of their wraps and directed toward a table. One was middle-aged, Grey-haired, With a somewhat worn but keen face. The other was taller, With black hair streaked with grey, A face half-Jewish, Half-romantic. A skin like ivory. The greatest men in the world? Sidney repeated under his breath. I never even saw a photograph of either of them before in my life. The one nearest you, Laxworthy announced, Is Mr. Friedling Poynton. The newspapers will tell you his fortune exceeds the national debt of every country in the world. He is, Without doubt, The richest man who was ever born. There has never yet breathed an emperor whose upraised finger could provoke or stop a war, Whose careless word could undermine the prosperity of the proudest nation. These things Mr. Friedling Poynton can do. And the other? Anderson whispered. It is chance, Mr. Laxworthy said softly, Which plays a scepter of unlimited power in the hands of Richard Friedling Poynton. It is his own genius which has made the Marcus Lafon the greatest power in the diplomatic world. It was not about war between Russia and Japan. It was he who stopped the declaration of war against Germany by our own Prime Minister at the time of the Algeciras difficulty. It was he who offered a million pounds to bring the Tsar of Russia to Germany. And he did it. There is little he cannot do. Is he a German? Anderson asked. Here he comes, Mr. Laxworthy replied. No one knows what country is really nearest to his heart. It is his custom to accept commissions or refuse them according to his own belief as to their influence upon international peace. They say he has English blood in his veins. If so, He's been a very sorry friend to his native land. We sing, Sidney remarked, To have chosen a very fortunate evening for a little dinner here. The place is full of interesting people. I wonder where those two are going? A maitre d'hôtel, Whose respect had been gained by the lavish orders from their table, Paused and whispered confidentially in Mr. Laxworthy's ear. The gentleman down there, Sir, He announced, The grey gentleman with his own servant waiting upon him, Is Mr. Friedling Poynton, The great American multimillionaire. Laxworthy nodded slowly. I thought I recognised him by his photographs, He said. Is he going to Monte Carlo? The attendant shook his head. I was speaking to them a moment ago, Sir, He declared. Mr. Poynton's been here a good many times. He and his friend are going for a fortnight's quiet to the Paradise Hotel. The maitre d'hôtel passed on with another bow. The three men looked at one another. Mr. Laxworthy glanced at the clock. Sidney, He said, Will you step down into the bureau and find out whether it's possible to get three seats in the train deluxe? For the Paradise Hotel? Sidney asked. Mr. Laxworthy agreed. Certainly, He said. You might at the same time send them a telegraph. A black cloud, Long and with jagged edges, Passed away from the face of the moon. The town in which the Paradise Hotel sat was gradually revealed. The cypress trees, Tall and straight, The shimmering olive trees with their ghostly foliage, The fields of violets, The level vineyards, And beyond the phalanx of lights on the warships lying in the bay. The hotel on the hillside, Freshly painted and spotlessly white, Stood sharply out against the dark background. The whole world was becoming visible. Upon the balcony of one of the rooms upon the second floor, A man was standing with his back to the wall. He looked around at the flooding moonlight and swore softly to himself. Decidedly, Things were turning out ill with him. From the adjoining balcony, A thin rope was hanging, Swaying very slightly in the night breeze. The young man gazed helplessly at the end, Which had slipped from his fingers, And which was hanging just now over some flower beds. He was face to face with a most insoluble problem of how to regain the shelter of his own room. From the gardens below came the melancholy cry of a passing owl. From the white barn-like farmhouse perched on the mountainside in the distance came the bark of a dog. Then again there was silence. The man looked back into the room from which he had escaped, And down at the end of that swinging rope. He was indeed on the horns of a dilemma. To return into the room was insanity. To stay where he was was to risk being seen by the earliest passer-by, Or the first person who chanced to look out from a window. To try to pass his own veranda without the aid of that rope was an impossibility. It was already five minutes since he had crept out from the room and had let the rope slip from his fingers. The owl had finished his mournful serenade. The watchdog on the mountainside slept. The deep silence of the hours before dawn brooded over the land. The man fiercely impatient, Though he was to escape, Was constrained to wait. There seemed to be nothing which he could do. Then again the silence of the night was strangely almost harshly broken. This time from the interior of the hotel. An alarm bell, Harsh and discordant, Ran out. A brazen note of terror. Light suddenly flashed in the windows. Footsteps hurried along the corridor. The man outside upon the balcony set his teeth and cursed. Detection now seemed unavoidable. The room behind him was speedily invaded. Madame Bertrand, In a dressing gown whose transparent simplicity had been the triumph of a celebrated establishment in the Rue de la Paix, Her beautiful hair tied up only with pink ribbon, Her eyes kindling with excitement, Received a stream of agitated callers. The floor waiter. Three guests in various states of déshabille. And finally the manager, Breathless with haste, All claimed her attention at the same time. It was I who rang the danger bell, Madame declared indignantly. In a hotel where such things are possible, It is well indeed that one should be able to sound the alarm. There has been a man in my rooms. But it is unheard of, Madame, The manager replied. It is nevertheless true, Madame insisted. Not two minutes since I opened my eyes, And he disappeared into my sitting room. I saw him distinctly. I could not recognize him, For he kept his face turned away. Either he has escaped through the sitting room door and down the corridor, Or he is still there, Or is hiding in this room. The jewels of Madame, The manager gasped. I tremble in every limb. How could I know whether or not I have been robbed? The pearls of Madame, He persisted, The string of pearls. That is safe, Madame admitted. My diamond collar too is in its place. The manager and two of the guests searched the sitting room, Which opened to the left from the bedroom. Others spread themselves over the hotel to calm fears of the startled guests, And to assure everybody there was no fire and nothing particular had happened. The search was, Of necessity, Not a long one. There was no one in the sitting room. The manager and his helpers returned. The room is empty, Madame, The former declared. Then the burglar has escaped. Monsieur Helder went down on his knees and peered in vain under the bed. Madame is sure, He inquired, Raising his head with some temerity, But remaining upon his knees. Madame is absolutely convinced it was not an illusion, The fragment of a dream, Perhaps. It is strange. There should have been time for anybody to have escaped. A dream indeed, Madame declared indignantly. I do not dream such things, Monsieur Helder. Monsieur Helder dived again under the valance. It was just at that moment that Madame Patron, Gazing into the plate-glass mirror of the wardrobe, Received a shock. Distinctly she saw a man's face reflected there. With a predominant instinct of her sex arouse, She opened her lips to scream, And just as suddenly closed them again. Then she stood for a moment quite still, Her hand pressed to her side. She turned her head and looked out of the French windows which led on to the balcony. There was nothing to be seen. She looked across at Monsieur Helder, Whose head had disappeared inside the wardrobe. Then she stole up to the window and glanced once more on to the balcony. Madame, Monsieur Helder declared, This room is empty. Your sitting-room is also empty. There remains, He added with a sudden thought, Only the balcony. He advanced a step. Madame Patron, However, Remained motionless. She was standing in front of the window. The balcony I have examined myself, She said quietly. There is no one there. Besides, I am not one of the English cranks who sleep always with a damp, Light air filling their room. My windows are bolted. In that case, Madame, Monsieur Helder declared with a little shrug of his shoulders, We must conclude that the intruder escaped through your sitting-room door into the corridor. Madame can at least assure me, Nothing of great value is missing. Madame Patron, Though pale, Was graciously pleased to reassure him. The shock I will not get over for days. Monsieur Helder, You will not banish my maid again to that horrible annex, And whoever occupies the next room must give it up. Not another night will I sleep here alone and unprotected. Monsieur Helder bowed. The adjoining room is occupied by Mr. Sidney Wing, An Englishman whose Madame will perhaps recollect. He is, I am sure, A man of gallantry. After the venture of tonight, He will doubtless offer to vacate his room. It must be arranged, Madame insisted. Monsieur Helder backed towards the door. If Madame would like her maid for the rest of the night, He suggested. But Madame Patron shook her head. Not now, She said, I will not have the poor girl disturbed. After what has passed, She would lie here in terror. As for me, I shall lock all my doors, And perhaps after that I shall sleep. Monsieur Helder executed his bow and left. Madame paused for a moment to listen to his footsteps. Then she moved forward to the door and locked it. She walked deliberately to the French windows, Threw them open, And stepped onto the balcony. Good evening, Monsieur Sidney, Or rather, Good morning. The young man gripped for a moment the frail balustrade. Madame, He faltered. She pointed to the open doors. Inside, She whispered imperatively. Inside at once. She pointed to the swinging cord. The young man stepped all too willingly inside the room. She followed him and closed the doors. You will gather, Monsieur Sidney Wing, She said, That I am disposed to spare you. I knew that you were outside even while my room was being searched. I preferred first to hear your explanation before I gave you up to be treated as a common burglar. The young man's courage was returning fast. His eyes were full of gratitude, Or what at any rate gleamed like gratitude. Oh, Madame, He murmured, You are too gracious. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. She looked at him not unkindly. You will come this way, She said, Leading him into the sitting room. Now tell me the truth if you would like to leave this room a free man. When I first saw you, You were bending over that table. Upon it was my necklace, Earrings, A scarf, My chatelaine, And a vanity box. Now tell me what exactly you came for, And what have you taken, And why? Sidney held himself upright, Drew a little breath. Fate was certainly dealing leniently with him. Madame, He said, Was there nothing else upon that table? Think. I can think of nothing, Madame acknowledged. Tonight, He continued, You were scarcely so kind to me. We danced together, It's true, But there were many others. There was the Admiral, For instance. Madame was favourably disposed towards him. Why not, She said, Coquettishly. Admiral Christodour is a very charming man, And dances well. And you, Monsieur Sidney Wing, What have you to say that I should not dance and be friendly with this gentleman? Sidney was feeling his feet upon the ground. Nevertheless, He continued to look serious. Alas, He said, I have no right to find fault, Yet two nights ago you gave me the rose I asked for. She looked at him softly, Let steadily. You told me, He continued, The rose belonged to him who dared to pluck it. It's a saying, Madame Patron murmured. I was not in earnest. Sidney Wing sighed deeply. Madame, He declared, I come of a little nation. When we love, The word of a woman means much to us. Tonight, There seemed nothing dearer to me in life than the possession of that rose. I told myself your challenge was accepted, And tonight I would sleep with that rose on the pillow by my side. Slowly, He unbuttoned his coat. From the breast pocket, He pulled out a handkerchief, And in the centre, Devoid of its many petals, Lay a dark red rose. Monsieur, Madame Patron cried incredulously, Yet with some tenderness in her tone, You mean to tell me, For the sake of that rose, You climbed from your balcony to mine? For the sake of this rose, Madame, And all that it means to me, Sidney answered. Madame Patron drew a long sigh. Then she held out her hand, And again he raised it to his lips. Monsieur Sidney, She said, I have done your countrymen an injustice all my life. I had not thought such sentiment was possible in any one of them. I am very glad indeed when I saw your face reflected in the mirror of my wardrobe. Very glad. Madame, Said Sidney. She held up her finger. Already the faint beginning of dawn was stealing into the sky. From the farmhouse away on the hillside, A cock commenced to crow. Monsieur, She whispered, I have risked my reputation to save you. See the door is before you. Unlock it softly, And make sure there's no one in the corridor when you leave. But Madame, He begged. She pointed imploringly towards the door. But there was tenderness in her farewell glance. Tomorrow we will talk, She promised. Tomorrow night, If you should fancy my roses. Perhaps I may be more kind. Good night. Madame Patron stole back to her room and sat on the edge of her bed. Miss Lee Sidney opened the door of the sitting room, Glanced up and down, And with swift silent footsteps made his way to his own apartment. A few minutes later, Madame closed the door behind him, Slowly slipped off her dressing gown and curled herself once more in her bed. Mr Sidney winged in the adjoining room, Lit a cigarette and mixed himself a whiskey and soda. There were drops of perspiration still upon his forehead as he stepped out onto the balcony and wound up his rope. It was the most cheerful hour of the day at the Paradise Hotel, The hour before luncheon. A swarthy Italian was singing love songs on the gravel sweep to the music of a guitar. The very air was filled with sunshine. A soft south wind was laden with perfumes from the violet farm below. Everyone seemed to be out of doors, Promenading or sitting about in little groups. Mr Laxworthy and Mr Forrest Addison had just passed along the front and were threading their way up the winding path which led through the pine woods at the back of the hotel. Mr Lenfield, The in-village young man, Was lying in a sheltered corner taking a sun bath, His companion by his side smoking a large cigar and occasionally reading extracts from a newspaper. The pretty American girl, Who was one of the features of the place, And Madame Patron were missing. The former because she was playing golf with Sidney Wing. The latter because she never rose until luncheon time. Mr Freeling-Poynton and the Marquis Lafon were sitting a little way up amongst the pine trees. Mr Freeling-Poynton was smoking his morning cigar. Lafon was leaning forward, His eyes fixed steadily upon that streak of blue Mediterranean. In his hand he held his watch. I am quite sure, He said softly, That I can rely upon my information. At a quarter past twelve precisely the torpedo is to be fired. Which is the magnifique anyway? Mr Freeling-Poynton inquired. Lafon pointed to the largest of the grey battleships which were riding at anchor. Then his fingers slowly traversed the blue space until it paused at a black object, Like a derelict barge. He glanced at his watch. A quarter past, He muttered, Look, My god! The black object had disappeared. A column of white water rose gracefully into the air and descended. It was finished. Lafon leaned towards his companion. You and I, He said, Have seen a thing which is going to change the naval history of the future. You and I alone can understand why the French Admiralty have given up building battleships. Why even their target practised here and at Cherbourg continues as master of form only. Mr Freeling-Poynton withdrew his cigar from his mouth. I can't say, He admitted, That I have ever given any particular attention to these implements of warfare because I hate them all. But there's nothing new in the torpedo. What's the difference between this one and the ordinary sort? I will tell you in a very few words, Lafon answered. This one can be fired at a range of five miles and relied upon to hit a mark little larger than the plate of a battleship with absolutely scientific accuracy. There is no question of aim at all. Just as you work out an exact spot in a surveying expedition by scientific instruments, So you can decide precisely the spot which that torpedo shall hit. It travels at the pace of ten miles a minute and has a charge which has never been equaled. Mr Freeling-Poynton shivered a little as he dropped the ash of his cigar. I'd like to electrocute the man who invented it, He declared tersely. Lafon shook his head. You are wrong, He replied. The man who invented that torpedo is the friend of your scheme and not the enemy. Listen, It is your desire, Is it not? The great ambition of your life to secure for the world universal peace? Mr Freeling-Poynton thrust his hands into his trousers pocket. Marquis, He said, There is no man breathing who could say how much I am worth. Capitalise my present income and you might call it 500 million pounds. Put a quarter of a million somewhere in the bank for me and I'd give the rest to see every army in Europe disbanded, Every warship turned into a trading vessel and every soldier and sailor turned into the factories or upon the land to become honest, Productive units. Just so Lafon descended. It may sound a little utopian but it is magnificent. Now listen, You will never induce the rulers of the world to look upon this question reasonably because every nation is jealous of some other and no one is great enough to take the lead. The surest of all ways to prevent war is to reduce the art of killing to such a certainty that it becomes an absurdity even to take the field. What nation will build battleships which can be destroyed with a touch of a finger at any time from practically any distance? I tell you that this invention, Which only one or two people in the world outside of that battleship yonder know, Is the beginning of the end of all naval warfare. There is only one thing to be done to drive this home. No nation must be allowed to keep the secret for her own. It must belong to all. Mr Freeling Poynton nodded thoughtfully. I begin to understand, He remarked. Guess that's where you come in is it? I hope so, Lafon assented. I have already spent a hundred thousand dollars of your money but I think I've had value for it. Say, Why don't you treat this matter as we should have on the other side? Mr Freeling Poynton demanded. It's all very well to bribe these petty officers and such like but the Admiral's your man. Remember the moneybags of the world are behind you. Lafon smiled faintly. Alas, He exclaimed, The Admiral belongs to a race little known in the world of commerce. Moneybags which reach to the sky would never buy him. There are others on the ship who are mine and with the information I have the rest should be possible. Mr Freeling Poynton frowned. He disliked very much to hear of a man who denied the omnipotence of money. He felt like the king of some foreign country to whom a stranger had refused obeisance. Well, You've got to run this thing, He remarked. And I suppose you know what kind of lunatics you've got to deal with. Seems to me the most difficult thing you've got to do is to get onto the battleship without the Admiral's consent. Lafon kicked a pebble away from beneath his feet. That is the chief difficulty, He admitted. I was rather hoping Madame Patron might have been of use to me there. She's been devoting herself to the Admiral for some days and last night she got a pass from him, Allowing the bearer to visit the ship at any time with access to any part of it. This morning, However, She declared she must have torn it up with her bridge scores. I suppose she can get it replaced? Mr Freeling Poynton suggested. Lafon hesitated for a moment. To tell you the truth, He declared, My own belief is that the Admiral declined to give it to her. Julie hates to admit defeat, However, Hence her little story. That does not trouble me very much, Though. My plans are made in another direction. Tonight is the night of the fancy dress ball, And the Admiral is coming. When he returns to the Magnifique, The drawings of the torpedo will be in my possession. Mr Freeling Poynton laid his hand for a moment on Lafon's shoulder. Let this be understood between you and me. The moment those plans are in your possession, A copy of them is to be handed simultaneously to the government of every civilized power in the world, So that everyone can build the darned things if they want to. Naturally, Lafon assented, It is already agreed. No favoritism, Mr Freeling Poynton declared vigorously, No priority. We steal those plans not to give any one nation an advantage over any other, But to put every country on the same footing. It is already agreed, Lafon repeated. Mr Laxworthy and Mr Forrest Anderson passed along on their way back to the hotel. Courteous greetings were exchanged between the four men. Lafon watched them with a faint smile. Mr Laxworthy with a grey shawl around his shoulders, His queer little stoop, His steel-rimmed spectacles. Anderson in his well-cut tweeds, Brightly polished tan shoes and neat Homburg hat. That, Lafon remarked, Inclining his head towards Mr Laxworthy, Is exactly the type of English person whom one meets in a place like this. One could swear he lives somewhere near the British Museum, Writes heavily upon some dull subject, Belongs to a learned society and never had to make his own way in the world. He probably hates drafts as a pet ailment and talks about his nerves. He makes a friend of that red-faced fellow countryman of his because he is attracted by his robust health and his sheer lack of intelligence. I dare say you're right, Mr Freeling pointed and remarked carelessly. What about luncheon? It was the night of the great fancy dress ball at the Paradise Hotel. Down in the lounge the tumult became more boisterous every minute. Automobiles and carriages were all the time discharging their bevy of visitors from the neighbouring hotels and villas. A large contingent of naval officers arrived from Toulon. The ballroom was already crowded. Admiral Christendom, Looking very handsome, Led the promenade with Madame Patron, Concealed under the identity of an Eastern princess. There were many who wondered what it was that he whispered in her ear as he conducted her into the ballroom. It was careless of me, She admitted softly, But I am really quite sure that it was destroyed. It was with my bridge scores and I tore them all up without thinking. You will give me another perhaps? Whenever you will, He promised. Listen, She continued, Tonight you must not leave me. There is a young Englishman, You understand? Tonight shall be mine, The Admiral answered gallantly. I will not quit your side for all the Englishman who ever left their sad island. It was a gallant speech, But if Fritz the concierge could have heard it, He would have been puzzled, For barely half an hour later, A gust of wind blew back the cloak of a man who was stepping into a motor car, And his uniform was certainly the uniform of an Admiral in the French Navy. Through the windy darkness, The motor car rushed on its way to La Plage. The men who waited in the little boat rose to the salute. The Admiral took his place in silence, And it tore through the water. The Admiral takes his pleasure sadly, One of them muttered, As their passenger climbed up onto the deck. He's returned most devilish early, Another of them said. The Admiral turned his head sharply. I shall return, He announced. Await me. Most of the officers of the Magnifique were in the ballroom of the Paradise Hotel. The Admiral received the salute of the lieutenant on duty, And passed at once to his cabin. He shut the door and listened. There was no sound save the gentle splashing of the water near the porthole. Like lightning, He turned to a cabinet set in the wall and pulled out a drawer and touched a spring. Everything was as he had been told. A roll of papers was pushed back into a corner of the compartment. He drew the sheets out one by one, Shut the cabinet quickly and swung around. Then he stood as though turned to stone. The inner door of the cabin, Which led into the sleeping apartment, Was open. Seated at the table before him was Mr. Laxworthy. Laforme was a man who had passed through many crises in life. Sheer astonishment, However, On this occasion, Overmastered him. His savoir-faire had gone. He simply stood still and stared. It was surely a vision, This. It could not be. That little old-fashioned man, Who went about with a grey shawl on his shoulders, Was watching him. What in the devil's name are you doing here? He demanded. I might ask you the same question, Mr. Laxworthy replied. I imagine we are both intruders. Laforme recovered himself a little. Tell me exactly what you want, He insisted, Coming nearer to the table. First let us have an understanding, Mr. Laxworthy answered, And as quickly as possible. For obvious reasons, The less time we spend here, The better. The boat which brought you is waiting, I presume, To take you back. In this light you might still pass as an admiral, But every moment you spend here adds to the risk for both of us. My foot is on the electric bell, Which I presume would bring the admiral's steward. You perceive, Too, I have a revolver at my hand, The use of which I am accustomed. Am I in command, Or are you? It appears you are, Laforme admitted grimly. Go on. You hold in your hand, Mr. Laxworthy continued, The plans of the Macquarine Torpedo, The torpedo which is to make warfare in the future impossible. Laforme waited no longer. He flung himself almost bodily upon the little old man, Who to all appearance presented such small powers of resistance. His first calculation was correct enough. Mr. Laxworthy made no attempt to discharge the revolver in his hand. In other respects, However, A surprise was in store for Laforme. His right hand was suddenly held in a grip of amazing strength. The fingers of Mr. Laxworthy's other hand were upon his throat. If you utter a word, Remember we are both lost, The latter whispered. Laforme set himself grimly to the struggle, But it lasted only a few seconds. Before he realised what had happened, His shoulders and the back of his head were upon the table, And Mr. Laxworthy's fingers were like bars of steel upon his throat. His consciousness was going. Now if you are willing to be reasonable, Mr. Laxworthy said, Remember that for both our sakes, It is well we do not waste a single second. Laforme's fingers stiffened upon the roll of papers which he was still clutching. Mr. Laxworthy read his thoughts unerringly. I do not ask you for the plans, He continued. You want them for your country. I am not a patriot. My country shall fight her own battles as long as they are fought fairly. These are my terms. Put back those papers or destroy them and pay me for my silence. You do not ask then for the plans yourself? Laforme demanded. I do not, Laxworthy replied. They belong to France. Let France keep them. You have corrupted half the ship with pointons, Dollars, But it was never in your mind to keep your faith with him. The plans were for Germany. Germany shall not have them. If I forced you to hand them over to me, I dare say I could dispose of them for, What shall we say, A hundred thousand pounds? You shall put them back in their place and pay me ten thousand for my silence. So you are an adventurer, Laforme muttered. I am one who seeks adventures, Laxworthy replied. We will let it go at that if you please. Remember you are in my power. The pressure of my foot upon this bell or my finger upon the trigger of this revolver and your career is over. Will you restore the plans and pay me ten thousand pounds? Laforme sighed. It is agreed, He declared. He turned back to the cabinet and Laxworthy half rose in his seat to watch him restore the plans. In a few seconds the affair was over. Monsieur the Admiral returns to the ball, Mr Laxworthy remarked smoothly. I will avail myself of his kind offer to accept a seat. They left the cabin and made their way to the side of the ship where the little boat was waiting and the lieutenant stood with his hand to the salute. Secretly the latter was a little relieved to see the two together. All the boat rushed towards the land and the two men walked down the wooden quay side by side. You will permit me to offer you a lift to the hotel? Laforme asked. With much pleasure, Laxworthy replied, Drawing his grey shawl around him. I find the nights chilly in these open cars though. Smoothly but at a great pace they tore along the scented road through a grove of eucalyptus trees and into the grounds of the hotel whose lights were twinkling far and wide. Laforme for the first time broke the silence. Mr Laxworthy, He said, The honours of this evening rest with you. I do not wish to ask questions you are not likely to answer but there is one matter on which if you would enlighten me. Mr Laxworthy waved his hand. Proceed, He begged. My little enterprise of this evening, Laforme continued, Was known of and spoken of only between Mr Freeling-Poynton and myself. We discussed it in the grounds of the hotel where we were certainly free from eavesdroppers. I am willing to believe you are a very remarkable person but this is not the age of miracles. Mr Laxworthy smiled. Nor is it the age, He murmured, Wherein we have attained sufficient wisdom to be able to define exactly what a miracle is. Ten years ago what men said of flying, Fifty years ago even the telephone was considered incredible. Has it never occurred to you, My dear Laforme, There may be natural gifts of which one or two of us are possessed, Almost as strange? Laforme turned in his seat. You mean. . . He began. Mr Laxworthy held up his hand. I have given you a hint, He said. The rest is for you. Laforme was silent for a moment. Tell me at least this, He begged. How the devil did you get on the magnifique? They were passing along the front by the ballroom. Admiral Christodore and Madame Patron were sitting near the window. Laxworthy sighed. The greatest men in the world, He said, Make fools of themselves when they put pencil to paper for the sake of a woman. Take my advice, Marquis. Destroy that uniform and arrange for an alibi. In a few hours' time there will be trouble on the magnifique. Laforme nodded. His cocked hat was thrust into the pocket of his overcoat. He was wearing a motor cap and goggles. There will be trouble, He remarked dryly, But it will not touch you or me. As regards Madame Patron. . . She is innocent, Laxworthy assured him. Nevertheless, A pass on to the magnifique is a little too valuable a thing to be left in a Lady Chatelaine bag. Laforme sighed. One makes mistakes, He remarked. And one pays, Laxworthy agreed. The end.

Reviews

The story was well read. Having a century of history since this was written, the story could be set in a modern setting, with minor changes. I am going to find more stories by this author.