Robert Welles Ritchie

“ The minutes dragged. Once he saw, or thought he saw, the head of a man outlined for an instant against dull radiance which seemed to be escaping from a faultily screened window of the conservatory. Again, after an eternity of waiting, a whistle somewhere away over by the gate shrilled a single thin pipe. This was followed a minute later by the noise of some heavy gas vehicle creaking to a stop in the street beyond.
Then a sound of music—a wild, dissonant skirl of fiddles coming faintly from behind the conservatory glass. The barbaric bray of it chilled Hagan. ”

“ Its shy, lovely gardens occasionally are the retreat for lovers; more often shuffling old men in carpet slippers and with books under their arms dodder over their paths. With the roaring tide of Fleet Street not a hundred yards away, the Old Temple yet is buried a thousand leagues deep in its own mystery.
From the Fleet Street gate two turns to the left, one to the right and, beyond the wigmaker's in Lemon Court, the first door; so the solitary prowler turned his steps. He groped his way two flights up from the court entrance. As his head came to the level of the landing Hagan got a surprise. ”

“ The whole of her was as alien, as foreign to London as the fifteenth wife of the Sultan would have been, could she by luck have been translated from the Golden Horn to Jim Hagan's chambers in the Old Temple.
Had the girl looked upon Jim Hagan with less troubled eyes she would have seen nothing much to be thrilled over. Just a chap of medium height, around thirty; eyes disconcertingly steady in their gaze; thinning red hair; his whole personality vital with that air of poised pugnacity that is the heritage of the Celt. Jim Hagan was Chicago Irish and proud of it. ”

“ The coal smoke from Victoria yards and the mists from the Thames have mingled over years to paint the fronts of houses on the Walk a uniform smeary gray-green—the color of stones in a root cellar. This gray-green seems to epitomize the tone and temper of the life that is the Walk's. Its few children who play at a noiseless hopscotch on the pavements carry the color in their cheeks. ”

“ That night in your chambers—Uncle Smirnoff sent me there to search Popondrov's papers for report of Admiral Andrevieff, his affairs in London. I slept, knowing Popondrov would not come, caring not who came. The constant fear—it made me a madwoman, Djim Hagan: one with no care for what happens. But to-night Smirnoff, he is gone; she, the Prussian woman, most dangerous spy in England, she is now with Intelligence—safe. ”

“ His machine gained the twisted byways of Pimlico, and the driver with muttered curses stopped now and again to turn his spotlight on a street sign. Groping thus, they came to Green Arbor Walk. The taxi was slowly following one curb line when two eyes of light suddenly winked out of the fog ahead. With a grind of brakes the two cars halted, fenders touching. Their drivers searched vocabularies for words to frame their feelings. By a trick of chance the spotlight on Hagan's car, left glowing from the last street sign in inspection, fell full into the black cavern of the other tonneau. ”

“ The company of fifteen pleased him: most of them refugees from the imperial régime in Russia; a scattering of lively Englishwomen of the set since made notorious by the memoirs of one of their number. This little dinner intime, so discreetly arranged to protect from the social world the incognito of the guest of honor, was Andrevieff's first relaxation since coming to London on his mission of importance; he was making the most of it.
Hardly so with his aide and confidential courier Popondrov. That young man was as miserable as a man could be without making a spectacle of himself. ”

“ The stir about the tables in the dark which Popondrov's exclamation had caused quickly subsided before the magic lure on the stage.
Now the little votary was kneeling before the bust of Astarte, and her straightened arms were swinging in wide arcs to the sharp clap of the cymbals. Now up and striding stiff-legged, she exemplified unconscious pride of youth in the springtime of the world. The stride dissolve into a run, a gallop. ”

“ At nights its men returning from their office stools reflect the pallor of the walls from their faces under the gas lamps. Life here is but a thin wafer removed from the desperation of the slums; Green Arbor Walk folk cling to the thread-respectability they fancy to be theirs with the grip of a drowning man to a spar. ”

“ His best was that Smirnoff had summoned a four-wheeler from a cabstand on King's Road, and his trunk had gone off on the driver's seat with himself and his so-beautiful daughter. Yes, he could show the gentleman from Scotland Yard where the cabstand was; but by the Mother of All Mercies, he could not point out the veritable cabman who had taken Smirnoff away. His only recollection of the cabman was that he was drunk when he came for his fares.
HIS business at the cabstand drew upon all of Hagan's finesse. He knew at of all the unlicked churls in the world the London cabman is king. ”

“ James Hagan, simple American newspaper man hear all the revolting details.”
Her lips trembled, then opened like flood gates to let speech come tumbling out. It was tumultuous, that flood of words. It was assisted by two graphic hands which fluttered like great white moths, now to point to the wet mystery of the night beyond the shaded windows, now to embrace the locked door in their sweep. Rapidly and still more rapidly words crowded on themselves. Her white shoulders lifted in a sudden mute gesture of appeal, then dropped in helplessness. She talked desperately against the ache in her eyes. ”

“ Hagan sternly pushed card and pencil into resisting hands. “After to-night I think I have the right to know.”
He took her hand, fixed the pencil between her fingers and placed the tip significantly after that word, “Hotel,” on the card. But the fingers would not move. Then Hagan, looking up impatiently, saw something to bring him up standing. Gone was the light of mischief from her elfin face. Bleak terror sat in her eyes. Her whole face seemed to have withered and grown haggard under the spell of fear that gripped her. Her French faltered brokenly:
“No—no, monsieur! They—they would—kill!” ”

“ No!” 'Nastasia's cry was that of a frightened child in the dark.
“But yes! Yes!” her torturer insisted imperturbably. “The good God has given you trim legs to dance with, a pretty face to snare such dogs as Andrevieff. He'd sell all Russia for a pair of pretty legs and a pretty face.”
The sallow face thrust itself out to leer at her. “Why do you think Uncle Smirnoff invited us to watch you dance in that home of cobwebs if it was not that we should judge of your legs and your face? You are the one Russian in the world who can get near enough to this Andrevieff to sink a knife in his heart. ”

“ Several of the guests under the Fleming's sagging roof were destined to hang sometime, yet during the commutation of their fate they were unobtrusive, soft-footed, seeking only to avoid crossing tangent to the affairs of all men.
Not so with Uncle Smirnoff, who occupied one of the second floor front rooms. The red man, far from retiring from a risky world, was avid of driving a pin into the world's soft flank. He wished to keep in touch with the world, or that part of it which chiefly concerned him, and by his own devious measures he did so. ”

“ After the eyes the outlines of a face, the features of a girl, pushed in upon the man's fuddled perception. Firelight could not make ruddy the pallor of that face, paper-white under fallen loops of hair appearing inky in contrast. Double slashes of red marked the lips, very full and parted.
A single swift movement in the depths of the chair. Hagan caught a flash of bare legs drawn up under the dark fluff of skirts. Then he saw a pair of stockings limp against the fire screen. Slippers with ridiculously high heels perched like beetles on the hearthstone. ”

“ THE days of 'Nastasia's imprisonment in a charnel room on the Walk had been days of feverish energy for Jim Hagan: at least those following his conversation with Popondrov in the small hours at Lemon Court. They had parted, these oddly matched champions, under promise of Hagan to report to the Russian in his new lodgings on Jeremy Street whatever progress he might make in his search for a hidden girl. Then the American newspaper man commenced his burrowing into the dark. ”

“ In the springing of her thin legs, the weaving of her arms around and through the night of her hair, lay all that poets of a golden age visioned—invitation to life, to pagan worship of the body in its perfection. ”

“ Inside of a minute the cabstand was deserted and five mugs went under the barmaid's tap handles. The Amurican toff did himself proud. He didn't ask a question until the tap had worked again.
Upshot of ten minutes' maundering and quarreling was that 'Umpy remembered as how Lumpy-Jawr 'Ighston said a for'night ago he'd given Beauty and the Beast out of the Covent Garden Pantomime a ride into Pimlico; man all afire with red whiskers; girl scairt-like but a ravin' whinner fer looks. Hagan's ears pricked. ”

“ Get the picture, Popondrov! That little girl, knowing not a word of English, allowing herself to play bait for a trap—waiting here in strange chambers for a man she'd never seen to come in and find her——
“Oh, man, you said it; one woman in a thousand—in ten thousand!”
ON THE bend of Green Arbor Walk, where it turns just beyond the abandoned Empress Theater to plunge under the arches of Chelsea Bridge, stands the Hôtel de Flandres, a three-story rookery favored by foreigners who for one reason or another do not care to advertise their presence in London. ”

“ Saddled with a dinner partner who essayed roguish love-making and rippled light ribaldries off her tongue, Popondrov was hard put to it to maintain the rôle he had established for himself in the swift circle of the émigrés here in London. The wretched man's inner mind was in a fever of speculation concerning what might be going on in a low street of Pimlico; how fared the mission of a certain forthright American fellow on rescue bent. This Hagan: after all, was it only what he called ridiculously his news sense that was prompting him to all this exertion in the matter of a lost 'Nastasia? ”

“ Why not try a little himself, Hagan thought.
“See here, Mr. Popondrov, you are in no position to play the heroic defender of defenseless womanhood. No, not with your record established while you were occupying these chambers. I've taken the opportunity to look up that record, and it's not chemically pure. What's more”—this was a shot into the dark—“I gather from what Miss 'Nastasia said that she hasn't the greatest confidence in the world to impose in you.” ”

“ He dropped a half-crown on the bar to round out the cabbies' morning and hurried out to catch a bus bound for Fleet Street and his office. Back he must go to have his hands tied with cable slips and ticker tape; to get from Vienna and Danzig and Berlin silly chatter of the world's distress. This when his feet were fairly set on a trail which, albeit by twists and turns, must surely lead to 'Nastasia.
Nothing in life was more to be desired; that Hagan knew in his heart. ”

“ I have a feeling we have much to say to each other.” He waved to the chair, and as earnest of his hospitality he poked up the fire and added fresh lumps of coal.
Something in his tone—the irony in the words seem lost to her—appeared to palliate for a moment the outrage of the locked door. Either that or the trespasser, finding herself in a tight place, was willing to play the game to the next move. She took the wing chair as she was bidden. Hagan put out a hand to touch the stockings she still held knotted in a small fist. They were wet. ”

“ Now that Popondrov could give him no clue to the mystery of the crossed trail of search, Hagan's impatience to push it to the end was mounting. “I'll hop down to the Hôtel de Flandres,” he said, “and look over the ground. If things are right I'll take the girl away. I think I can handle any situation that bobs up,”
“TAKE 'Nastasia away!” Evidently this highly essential corollary to the achievement of finding 'Nastasia had not yet engaged Popondrov's speculation. “But, man, where will you take her?” ”

“ Hagan filled and lighted a pipe. The situation pleased him. He'd read stories and seen plays wherein strange young women came unbidden to men's rooms—I admit the artifice is hoary as Boccaccio—but this was his first experience in the life. Moreover, his first gross suspicions concerning larceny had been dissipated. Barefooted young ladies in evening dress do not go out in a London rain to steal. ”

“ The card with the Russian script on its face he pressed dramatically to his lips.
“There you are!” Hagan finished. “Now here's a question: Who are the people who 'Nastasia says would kill her if she revealed where she is living? And why? What is the terror hanging over her?”
“Her uncle is a devil!” Popondrov exploded. “Smirnoff, who taught her to dance, first in Odessa and then in the ballet at Moscow; he's a red fiend from the Pit!”
“But,” Hagan objected, “'Nastasia used the word 'they.' 'They would kill me,' was the way she put it. There must be more than one she is afraid of.” ”

“ This second visitor to the rookery chambers was not going to escape as the first one had.
DMITRI ANDREVIEFF, late Admiral in command of the Imperial Russian Black Sea Fleet and more recently darling of all the émigrés of the old régime fleeing their homeland before the Red terror, was having his third and most important conference with a most Exalted Personage in the Government of his Majesty George V. Many reasons of caution prompted that this meeting should not be under the eyes of press and public; one of them was that the Admiral's presence in London was supposed to be strictly incognito ”

“ The fellow called Andres spit upon the tip of his cigarette and ground the stub into the carpet. “You have heard of Admiral Andrevieff?” he demanded.
'Nastasia nodded dazedly.
“You know he is an enemy of the Soviet in Moscow?”
The girl denied by a shake of her head.
“Such he is, and he is now in London conferring with the money lords to prepare a counter-revolution in Russia—a foreign-financed uprising of the few bourgeoisie who have not yet starved; folk like your sweet self, little dove.” ”

“ You let yourself into them last night with a key from your own pocket.”
“Quite so!” murmured Popondrov and sipped the tea with relish.
His cool acceptance of an anomalous situation angered the American who, thoroughly aroused, broke out in good Chicagoese:
“Come, now, cut out the up-stage stuff! Technically you are a house-breaker. It's not up to you to put on any frills. I want to know a few things from you. One of them is, how do you come to have a key to my chambers—and use it?” ”

“ Bang—bang—bang! A shrill complaint emphasized the blows of knuckles on the oak. Still in a doze Hagan blundered to the door and threw back the catch. In doing so he had a half-prompting that he should have used his key; that he could not have opened the door without his key since he had thrown on the spring latch that minute when a girl——
The charwoman of Lemon Court with a tray stood in the hall. She wore her usual appearance of having just been delivered by a collector of old rags and sacks—dumped at Hagan's door without having been tied into a very neat parcel. ”

“ A youngish fellow, blond as a Fleming; features patrician almost to the point of decadence, with a mouth weak and womanish and eyes wherein no hardihood lurked. A pretty man! How handle such a one? Properly approached, he might reveal what the newspaper correspondent was burning to know; a blunder on Hagan's and that mysterious terror which had flickered so vividly over 'Nastasia's face might be made a very pressing danger.
Popondrov swallowed another horn of brandy after Hagan affected not to see the proffered glass. ”

“ We expatriates from Russia, it is necessary we come together often, and when we do the old Russian custom—” His unfinished sentence told much.
“Sit down, Mr. Popondrov, and listen to all I know about a mysterious beauty named 'Nastasia.” Hagan's nimble wits had taken the other's full measure and come to a decision: Here was some one who could be made an ally in the search for a peri from Georgia—perhaps not a very competent ally but better than none. Better play the cards to the end that Popondrov's confidence be gained, then use him, so long as that use achieved something. ”

“ The alert mind of the man—his news-trained mind—now fully aroused, set itself to picking up a trail and following a thread of mystery. Already a single ray of light had been let in by the gossipy charwoman; it illumined the sinister figure of a man named Popoff, or Pop-something, foreigner, giver of wine parties, squire of women. Popoff, dispossessed of these chambers, now for three weeks the abode of Hagan, had walked off with the keys. 'Nastasia could not have let herself into Hagan's rooms without one of those keys ”

“ Wherefore the morning whose earlier hours had seen Hagan and a suddenly sobered Popondrov exchanging confidences, later witnessed the former speeding by taxi along the Embankment, past Westminster and into the dreary borough of Chelsea. He dismissed his car a few minutes' walk from the expected destination and proceeded on foot to a seedy-looking hotel in a backwater off King's Road. In a gas-lit cubby marked “Office” he encountered a man with a sheep's forehead and shifty eyes who professed a scanty knowledge of English under questioning.
Did he know a Russian named Smirnoff? Mais non. ”