Valentine Williams

“ At half-past eight the next morning Desmond Okewood found himself in the ante-room of the Chief of the Secret Service in a cross and puzzled mood. The telephone at his bedside had roused him at 8 a.m. from the first sleep he had had in a real bed for two months. In a drowsy voice he had protested that he had an appointment at the War Office at 10 o’clock, but a curt voice had bidden him dress himself and come to the Chief forthwith. Here he was, accordingly, breakfastless, his chin smarting from a hasty shave. What the devil did the Chief want with him anyhow? ”

“ Desmond Okewood thought he had never seen anything in his life more charming than the picture the dancer made as she came into the room. Her wrap had fallen open and beneath the broad bars of her cloth-of-silver dress her bosom yet rose and fell after the exertions of her dance. A jet black curl had strayed out from beneath her lofty silver head-dress, and she thrust it back in its place with one little brown bejeweled hand whilst she extended the other to Strangwise. ”

“ The golden radiance of the afternoon had died and eerie wraiths of fog were peering-in at the window.
Desmond held his peace. He felt he was on the threshold of a confession that might rend the veil of mystery surrounding the murder at Seven Kings. He stared fixedly at the ugly red tablecloth, conscious that the big eyes of the girl were searching his face.
“You have honest eyes,” she said presently. “I told you that once before... that night we met at your house... do you remember? Your eyes are English. But you are a German, hein?” ”

“ To one who has been living for weeks in an ill-ventilated pill-box on the Passchendaele Ridge, the lights and music and color of a music-hall seem as a foretaste of Paradise.
And that was what Desmond Okewood thought as a few hours later he found himself with Maurice Strangwise in the stalls of the vast Palaceum auditorium. In the unwonted luxury of evening clothes he felt clean and comfortable, and the cigar he way smoking was the climax of one of Julien’s most esoteric efforts. ”

“ THE STAR OF POLAND
The room in which Desmond found Nur-el-Din was obviously the parlor of the house. Everything in it spoke of that dreary period in art, the middle years of the reign of Victoria the Good. The wall-paper, much mildewed in places, was an ugly shade of green and there were dusty and faded red curtains at the windows and draping the fireplace. Down one side of the room ran a hideous mahogany sideboard, almost as big as a railway station buffet, with a very dirty tablecloth. ”

“ Desmond went on deliberately, “I think that story gives us the right measure of Nur-el-Din’s, character. She may be vain, she may be without morals, she may be weak, she may be an adventuress, but she’s not a murderess. If anything, she’s a victim!”
Francis laughed shortly.
“Victim be damned!” he cried. “Man alive,” he went on, “how can you talk such nonsense in face of the evidence, with this bloody-minded woman’s victims hardly cold yet? But, horrible as these murders are, the private squabbles of this gang of spies represent neither your interest nor mine in this case. ”

“ Strangwise’s face underwent an extraordinary change. His suavity vanished, his easy smile disappeared and he looked balefully across the table as the other fearlessly confronted him.
“If you are a German, as you seem to be,” Desmond went on, “then I tell you I shall never have guessed it until this interview between us. But a man who can murder a defenceless old man and torture a young girl and then propose to sell his pals to a British officer at the price of that officer’s honor can only be a Hun! And you seem to be a pretty fine specimen of your race!” ”

“ The noise was so loud that Desmond wondered whether old Martha would hear the din. He sat in his chair by the door, a silent witness of the scene. Then suddenly, at the height of the hubbub, he heard the faint humming of a motor-car. It lasted for perhaps thirty seconds, then gradually died away.
“What did it mean?” he asked himself. The only living being he knew of outside was John Hill, the odd man, whose face he had just seen; the only car was Mortimer’s. Had the odd man gone off in Mortimer’s car? He was thankful to note that, in the din, none save him seemed to have heard the car. ”

“ NUR-EL-DIN
The love of romance is merely the nobler form of curiosity. And there was something in Desmond Okewood’s Anglo-Irish parentage that made him fiercely inquisitive after adventure. In him two men were constantly warring, the Irishman, eager for romance yet too indolent to go out in search of it, and the Englishman, cautious yet intensely vital withal, courting danger for danger’s sake. ”

“ What passion lurked in those black eyes of hers, in her moods, swiftly changing from gusts of fierce imperiousness to gentle airs of feminine charm! What a frail little thing she was to have fought her way alone up the ladder from the lowest rung to the very top! She must have character and grit, Desmond decided, for he was a young man who adored efficiency: to him efficiency spelled success.
But a spy needs grit, he reflected, and Nur-el-Din had many qualities which would enable her to win the confidence of men. Hadn’t she half-captivated him, the would-be spy-catcher, already? ”

“ Basil Bellward’s pyjamas of elaborate blue-flowered silk, Desmond lay propped up in bed in Mr. Bellward’s luxuriously fitted bedroom, sipping his morning coffee, and studying with absorbed interest a sheet of blue foolscap. A number of papers lay strewn about the eiderdown quilt. At the head of the bed a handsome Sheraton bureau stood open.
As the French say, Mr. Bellward had refused himself nothing. His bedroom was most tastefully furnished. The furniture was mahogany, every piece carefully chosen, and the chintz of curtains and upholstery was bright and attractive. ”

“ The world is so disturbed to-day that life is not safe for anybody who travels as much as I do! You have a home, a safe home with your dear father! He was telling me about it! Will you take this little box and keep it safely for me until... until... the war is over... until I ask you for it?”
“Yes, of course,” said Barbara, “if you wish it, though, what with these air raids, I don’t know that London is particularly safe, either.”
“Ah! that is good of you,” cried Nur-el-Din, “anyhow, the little box is safer with you than with me. ”

“ Each man was a complete replica of the other, save that the face of the new arrival was thin and haggard with that yellowish tinge which comes from long confinement.
As Mortimer staggered back, the uninvited guest recoiled in his turn. He was staring fixedly across the room at his double who met his gaze firmly, erect, tense, silent. The others looked in sheer stupefaction from one to the other of the two Mr. Bellwards. For nearly a minute the only sound in the room was the deep ticking of the clock, counting away the seconds separating him from eternity, Desmond thought. ”

“ She pulled a chair over for him and began to talk about the Chief.
“There’s not the least need for you to worry,” she said with a little woeful smile, like a sun-ray piercing a rain-cloud, “if the Chief says ‘Go back to France and wait for instructions,’ you may be sure that everything is arranged, and you will receive your orders in due course. So shall I. That’s the Chief all over. Until you know him, you think he loves mystery for mystery’s sake. It isn’t that at all. He just doesn’t trust us. He trusts nobody!”
“But that hardly seems fair to us...” began Desmond. ”

“ As for Bellward, he remained silent, with arms folded, listening very intently.
“Doubtless, this double of mine,” continued Desmond in a mocking voice, “is the bearer of the Star of Poland, the wonderful jewel which has required our beloved leader to devote so much of his time to a certain charming lady. Bah! are you going to let a man like this,” and he pointed to Mortimer disdainfully with his hand, “a man who puts you in the fighting line while he amuses himself in the rear, are you going to let this false friend, this bogus spy, cheat you like this? ”

“ Barbara fetched the wrapper and sat down beside the dancer. But Nur-el-Din did not move. She seemed to be thinking. Barbara saw the hunted look she had already observed in her that evening creeping over her face again.
“It is a hard life; this life of ours, a life of change, ma petite! A great artiste has no country, no home, no fireside! For the past five years I have been roaming about the world! Often I think I will settle down, but the life holds me!”
She took up from her dressing-table a little oblong plain silver box. ”

“ He thrust a hand into the inner pocket of his coat and plucked out a white paper package sealed up with broad red seals.
Desmond held his breath. It was the white paper package, exactly as Barbara had described.
“Look at it well, Behrend,” said Mortimer, holding it up for the young man to see, “it cost me a man’s life to get that. If it had sent twenty men to their death, I should have had it just the same!”
Mrs. Malplaquet clapped her hands, her eyes shining.
“Bravo, bravo!” she exclaimed, “that’s the spirit! That’s the way to talk, Mortimer!” ”

“ Behrend sprang forward.
“Not so fast,” he cried. “You don’t leave this room until we know who you are!”
And he covered him with his pistol.
“Fool!” exclaimed Bellward who had stopped on the threshold of the secret door, “do you want to trap the lot of us! Tell him, Minna,” he said to Mrs. Malplaquet, “and for Heaven’s sake, let us be gone!”
Mrs. Malplaquet stood up.
“This is Basil Bellward,” she said, “see, he’s wearing the ring I gave him, a gold snake with emerald eyes! And now,” she cried, raising her voice shrilly, “before we go, kill that man!”
And she pointed at Desmond. ”

“ I am not excusing myself; but all my life had been spent up to then in the bas-fonds of society. I had never known what it was to be courted and admired by one who had the world at his feet. Parbleu! one does not meet a future Emperor every day!
“Enfin! the Prince carried me with him back to Metz, where he had his headquarters. He was very épris with me, but you know his temperament! No woman can hold him for more than a few weeks, vain and weak and arrogant as he is. But pardon! I was forgetting that you are a good German. I fear I offend your susceptibilities...”
Desmond laughed drily. ”

“ All around them was that curious preoccupied stillness—the hush of the power-house—which makes the false world of the stage so singularly unreal by contrast when watched from the back. The house was packed from floor to ceiling, for the Palaceum’s policy of breaking away from revue and going back to Mr. Mackwayte called “straight vaudeville” was triumphantly justifying itself.
Standing in the wings, Barbara could almost feel the electric current running between the audience and the comedian who, with the quiet deliberation of the finished artist, was going through his business on the stage. ”

“ MAJOR OKEWOOD ENCOUNTERS A NEW TYPE
There is a sinister ring about the word “murder,” which reacts upon even the most hardened sensibility. Edgar Allan Poe, who was a master of the suggestive use of words, realized this when he called the greatest detective story ever written “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.” From the very beginning of the war, Desmond had seen death in all its forms but that word “murdered,” spoken with slow emphasis in the quiet room, gave him an ugly chill feeling round the heart that he had never experienced on the battlefield. ”

“ The hour of the theatre rush was long since over and its passing had transformed the taxi-drivers from haughty autocrats to humble suppliants. One taxi after another crawled slowly past the street corner where Desmond had stood for over an hour in deep converse with Gunner Barling, but neither flaunting flag nor appealingly uplifted finger attracted the slightest attention from the athletic-looking man who was so earnestly engaged in talk with a tramp. ”

“ The second floor was as silent and deserted as the corridor below. But just as Desmond passed the head of the main staircase he heard the sound of voices. He glanced cautiously down the well of the stairs and saw Strangwise and Bellward talking together. Bellward was on the stairs while Strangwise stood in the corridor.
“It’s our last chance,” Strangwise was saying.
“No, no,” Bellward replied heatedly, “I tell you it is madness. We must not delay a minute. For Heaven’s sake, leave the girl alone and let’s save ourselves.” ”

“ Malplaquet smiling. “They tell me you have a great way with the ladies, my dear sir!”
“But,” she went on, “I am neglecting our host, my dear Mr. Bellward. How are you, my friend? How well you are looking... so young... so fresh! I declare you seem to have got five years younger!”
The keen black eyes searched Desmond’s face. He felt horribly uncomfortable. The woman’s eyes were like gimlets boring right into him. He suddenly felt that his disguise was a poor one. He remembered Crook’s warning to be wary of women, and he inwardly quailed. ”

“ He murdered your poor father, he shot Rass, he instigated the killing of the maid, Marie, he was prepared to sacrifice his own wife even, to this Prussian God of militarism which takes the very soul out of a man’s body and puts it into the hands of his superior officer. And yet, and yet, when one has soldiered with a man, Barbara, and roughed it with him and been shelled and shot at with him, there seems to be a bond of sympathy between you and him for ever after. ”

“ The telephone seemed quite dead.
“I don’t understand!” said Desmond to Mortimer. “What’s annoying?”
“The telephone, my dear Bellward,”—Mortimer spoke in a pompous voice—“the telephone is the symbol of the age in which we live, the age of publicity but also of indiscretion. It is almost as indiscreet to have a telephone in your house as to keep a diary. ”

“ For a long time after the retreating footsteps of Strangwise and Bellward had died away, Desmond sat listless, preoccupied with his thoughts. They were somber enough. The sinister atmosphere of the house, weighing upon him, seemed to deepen his depression.
About his own position he was not concerned at all. This is not an example of unselfishness it is simply an instance of the force of discipline which trains a man to reckon the cause as everything and himself as naught. ”