Complete weird tales of.., p.967
Complete Weird Tales of Robert W Chambers, page 967
“I’ve told you the truth,” he said simply; “I don’t know who you are, Thusis. I don’t even suspect.” He turned and looked at Clelia who had risen from her seat on the fountain’s edge.
“You do not like me, Clelia, and now you are going to like me less. You resented it when I preached at you concerning proper behavior for a young girl. And now that you learn I am going to interfere in your political and military maneuvers, I suppose you hate me.”
Nobody moved or spoke for a moment. Then Clelia took a step toward Smith, and I saw her face had become deadly pale.
“No,” she said, “I don’t hate you. On the contrary I am beginning to like you. Because it takes a real man to tell the woman he loves that he means to ruin her.”
“Clelia, you and Thusis are ruined only if I hold my hand.”
“We are done for unless you hold your hand!” she said. She stepped nearer.
“Mr. Smith?” she said sweetly, “you think you are on your honor. You are not. He who has sent you here to thwart us is deceiving you.”
“He who sent you here, Clelia, — and you, Thusis, is deceiving you,” he rejoined very quietly.
Thusis said: “You know who sent us, and yet you don’t know who we are! How can this be, Monsieur?”
“It’s true. I do know who sent you here. But you don’t!”
Clelia, still very pale, bent her gaze on him.
“Mr. Smith?”
“Yes, I hear you, Clelia.”
“Suppose — suppose — I prove kinder to you.”
“No,” he said, grim and flushed.
Thusis turned sharply on her sister: “Have you given him your heart?”
Clelia answered, her eyes still fixed on Smith:
“I gave it to him from the first — even when I thought him a pious dolt. And was ashamed. And now that I know him for a man I’m not ashamed. Let him know it. I do care for him.”
Smith stood rigid. Thusis, looking intently at Clelia, went to her and passed one arm around her waist.
“This can’t be,” she said. Clelia laughed. “But it is, sister. It isn’t orthodox, it isn’t credible, it is quite unthinkable that I should care for him. But I do; and I’ve told him so. Now he can ruin us if he wishes.” And she flung a sweet, fearless glance at Smith which made him tremble very slightly.
Thusis turned to me an almost frightened face as though in appeal, then she caught her sister’s hands.
“Listen!” she cried, “I also gave my heart as you gave yours, sister! I couldn’t help it. I found myself in love—” She looked at me— “I was doomed to love him.
“But for God’s sake listen, sister. It is my heart I give. My mind and my destiny remain my own.”
“My destiny is in God’s hands,” said Clelia simply. “My mind and heart I give—” She looked at Smith— “and all else that is myself ... if you want me, Shan.”
“You cannot do it!” exclaimed Thusis in a voice strangled with emotion. “You can do it no more than can I! You have no more right than have I to give yourself merely because you care! Your heart — yes! There is no choice when love comes; you can not avoid it. But you can proudly choose what to do about it!”
“I have chosen,” said Clelia, “if he wants me.”
Thusis clenched her hands and stood there twisting them, dumb, excited, laboring evidently under the most intense emotion.
And what all this business was about I had not the remotest notion.
Suddenly Thusis turned fiercely on her sister with a gesture that left her outflung arm rigid.
“Do you wish to find the irresponsible political level of those two Bolsheviki in there?” she said with breathless passion. “Are you really the iconoclast you say you are? I did not believe it! I can’t. The world moves only through decent procedure, or it disintegrates. Where is your reason, your logic, your pride?”
“Pride?” Clelia smiled and looked at Smith: “In him, I think.... Since he has become my master.”
“He is not our master!” retorted Thusis. “If what we came here to do is now impossible — thanks to a meddling and misled gentleman in Rome — is there not a sharper blow to strike at this treacherous Greek King and his Prussian wife and that vile, Imperial Hun who pulls the strings that move them?”
Clelia looked at Smith: “Do you know what my sister means?”
“Yes.”
“Will you stop us even there?”
“I must.”
Thusis, white with passion, confronted him:
“It is not you who are bound in honor to check and thwart us,” she said unsteadily, “but your duped block-head of a master who exasperates me! Does he know from whom I take my orders?”
“Yes.”
“I take them from the greatest, wisest, most fearless, most generous patriot in the world. I take my orders from Monsieur Venizelos!”
I started, but Smith said coolly: “Is that what you suppose, Thusis?”
“Suppose? What do you mean?” she demanded haughtily.
“I mean that you are mistaken if you and Clelia believe that your orders come from Monsieur Venizelos.”
“From whom, then, do you imagine they come?” retorted Thusis.
“From Tino!”
“You dare — —”
“Yes, I dare tell you, Thusis, how you have been deceived. Tino himself plotted this. Your orders are forgeries. Monsieur Venizelos never dreamed of inciting you to the activities in which you are now concerned — —”
“That is incredible,” said Thusis hotly. “I know who sent you here to check us and spoil it all — as though we were two silly, headstrong children! Tell me honestly, now; did not that — that gentleman in Rome give you some such impression of us? — that we were two turbulent and mischievous children?”
“I was not told who you were.”
“But you were told that we are irresponsible and headstrong? Is it not true?”
“Yes.”
“And you were sent here to see that we didn’t get into mischief. Is it true?”
“Yes.”
Thusis made a gesture of anger and despair:
“For lack of courage,” she said tremulously, “a timid King refuses the service we try to render! We offer to stake our lives cheerfully; it frightens him. We escape his well meant authority and supervision and make our way into Switzerland to do him and Italy a service in spite of his timorous fears and objections. He has us followed by — who are you anyway, Mr. Smith?”
“I happen to be,” he said pleasantly, “an officer in a certain branch of the Italian Army.”
“Military Intelligence!” exclaimed Clelia. “And we were warned by Monsieur Venizelos!”
Thusis flung out her arms in a passionate gesture: “We offer the King of Italy two royal scoundrels! And he refuses. We offer the King of Italy two islands? And you tell us he refuses. When we were in Rome he laughed at us, teased us as though we had been two school-girls bringing him some crazy plan to end the war. And now when we are practically ready to prove our plan possible — ready to consummate the affair and give him the two most dangerous royal rascals in Europe — restore to Italy two islands stolen from her centuries ago — the King of Italy turns timid and sends a gentleman to ruin everything!”
“Because,” said Smith pleasantly, “although King Constantine and Queen Sophia have been deposed, yet, were you to seize them and carry them across this frontier into France, Greece would resent it. So also would Switzerland. And the Allies would merely make two enemies out of an Allied country and a neutral one for the sake of a few odd kings and queens.
“And, moreover, if you should proceed, as you had planned, to the Cyclades; and if you succeed in fomenting a revolution in Naxos and Tenedos, and induce these two islands to declare themselves part of Italy, because seven hundred years ago a Venetian conquered them, then you turn Greece into a bitter enemy of Italy and of the Allies. And that is what you accomplish in exchange for a couple of little islands in the Ægean which Italy does not want.”
“Then,” retorted Thusis violently, “why did Monsieur Venizelos suggest that we attempt these things? Is the greatest patriot on earth a traitor or a fool?”
“No, but Constantine of Greece is. And the boche is his tutor. Oh, Thusis — Thusis! Can’t you see you have been tricked? Can’t you understand that Venizelos had no knowledge of these things you are attempting in all sincerity? — that you have been deluded by the treachery of the hun — that those who counseled you to this came secretly from Tino and the Kaiser, not from Venizelos?”
Thusis gazed at him bewildered. Clelia, too, seemed almost stunned.
“Do — do you mean to tell me,” stammered Thusis, “that these kings know that Clelia and I are here to try to kidnap them?”
“No,” said Smith coolly, “because I censored their mail in Berne. Their agents in Rome had warned them, in detail, by letter.”
“Had those agents penetrated our identity?”
“They seemed to have no notion of it. But they described you both minutely.”
Clelia seemed to come out of her trance. She turned to Thusis and said in a naïve, bewildered way:
“It’s rather extraordinary, Thusis, that nobody seems to have found out who we really are.... It’s almost as though we are not of as much importance as we have been brought up to suppose.”
Thusis blushed hotly: “Because,” she said, “nobody has discovered our incognito, is no reason for us to underrate our positions in Europe.”
“Still — it is extraordinary that nobody recognizes us. And we use our own names, too. I can’t account for it,” she added honestly, “unless we are of much less importance than we have been accustomed to consider ourselves — —”
Her voice was lost in a fearful scream from the house.
“Good Heavens!” said I, “what has happened?”
At that moment the door flew open and King Ferdinand waddled out in his wrapper and slippers.
“Help!” he shouted, “help! Is there a physician in the Alps?”
“I’m one,” said Smith, coolly, “among other things.”
And we all started hastily for the house.
XVIII. THE GANGSTERS
THE TSAR OF all the Bulgars, wearing a green and yellow wrapper, and bright blue slippers over his enormous flat feet, exhibited considerable nervousness as we entered the house.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” he said; “I trust that nobody will misunderstand me. Heaven is my witness — —”
“What’s the matter?” asked Smith tersely.
“The Princess Pudelstoff is screaming. I don’t know why; I didn’t go near her — —”
We hurried up stairs. The door of the Princess’ room was open, the light burning. The Princess sat up in bed, tears rolling down her gross, fat face, screaming at the top of her voice; while beside her, in Phrygian night-cap and pajamas, stood King Constantine.
He had her by the elbow and was jerking her arm and shouting at her: “Shut your fool head! Stop it! There’s nothing the matter with you. You’ve been dreaming!”
Smith went straight to the bed, shoved Constantine aside, and laid a soothing hand on the Princess’ shoulder.
“I’m a physician,” he said in his pleasant, reassuring voice. “What is the trouble, Princess?”
“There’s turrible doin’s in this here house!” she bawled. “I peeked through the key-hole! Them there Bolsheviki next door is fixin’ to blow us all up. I seen the bomb a-sizzlin’ and a-fizzlin’ on the floor like it was just ready to bust! And then I run and got into bed and I let out a screech — —”
“It’s all right,” said Smith kindly. “It was just a bad dream. There isn’t any bomb. Nobody is going to harm you — —”
“I didn’t dream it! I — —”
“Yes, you did. Calm yourself, Princess. You have eaten something which has disagreed with you.”
She ceased her screaming at that suggestion and considered it, the tears still streaming over her features. Then she began to blubber again and shook her head.
“I ain’t et hoggish,” she insisted. “If I had et hoggish I’d think I drempt it. But I ain’t et hoggish. That wasn’t no dream. No, sir! I had went to bed, but I was fidgety, like I had a load of coal onto my stummick. And by and by I heard them Bolsheviki next door whisperin’. And by and by I heard a fizzlin’ noise like they was makin’ highballs in there.
“Thinks I to myself that sounds good if true. So I gets up and I lights up and I peeks through the key hole. And I seen King — I mean Monsieur Xenos, and Monsieur Itchenuff, and Puppsky and Wildkatz and a long, black box on the floor in the room next door, and somethin’ sticking out of it which fizzled without smokin’ — —”
“It was all a dream, madame,” interposed Smith soothingly. And to my surprise, he took from his inner breast-pocket a small, flat medicine case.
“A glass of water and two spoons, please,” he said to Clelia. And she went away to fetch them.
There was another glass on the wash-stand. In this he rinsed a clinical thermometer and inserted it under the tongue of the sobbing Princess.
Thusis and I stood near him, silent. King Constantine and the Bulgarian Tsar appeared to be unsympathetic and at the same time slightly nervous.
“If she’d stop gorging herself,” remarked Tino, “she’d have no nightmares.”
“I seen you in there! Yes I did!” retorted the Princess in another access of wrath and fright, the thermometer wagging wildly between her lips. “And I seen you too!” she went on, pointing at King Ferdinand, who stared wildly back at her out of his eyes of an alarmed pig and wrinkled his enormous nose at her.
“Don’t tell me I was dreamin’,” she added scornfully, “nothing like that.”
Clelia came with the two spoons and glass of water; Smith selected a phial, mixed the dose, withdrew the thermometer, shook it, examined it, washed it at the basin, and, returning to his patient, administered a teaspoonful of medicine.
Then, in the other glass, he dissolved a powder, gave her three teaspoonfuls of that, and placed the two glasses on the night table beside her bed.
“If you happen to awake,” he said gently, “take a teaspoonful of each. But I think you’ll sleep, madame. And in the morning you’ll be all right.”
He turned on King Constantine and the Tsar so suddenly that they both took impulsive steps backward as though apprehensive of being kicked.
“The Princess needs quiet and rest, gentlemen,” said Smith. “Kindly retire.”
“Perhaps I’d better sit beside her for a while,” began Constantine, but Smith interrupted him:
“I’ll call you into consultation if I want you, Monsieur Xenos.” His voice had a very slight ring to it; the ex-King of Greece looked at him for a moment, then winced and backed out of the room, followed by King Ferdinand who seemed to be in a hurry and crowded on his heels like an agitated pachyderm.
Clelia, who had remained mute and motionless, looking at Smith all the while, now came toward him. And in the girl’s altered face I saw, reflected, deeper emotions than I had supposed her youthful heart could harbor.
“Do you need me?” she asked. “I am at your service.”
“Thank you, there is nothing more,” said Smith pleasantly. He turned to include Thusis in kindly but unmistakable dismissal.
Clelia gave him a long, slow look of exquisite submission; Thusis sent an odd, irresolute glance at me. As she passed me, following her sister, her lips formed the message: “I wish to see you to-night.”
When they had gone Smith shut and locked the door, and with a slight motion to me to accompany him, walked over to the bed, seated himself beside it, and took the fat hand of the Princess Pudelstoff in his as though to test her pulse.
The lady rolled her eyes at us but lay still, her mottled cheeks still glistening with partly dried tears.
“What’s on your mind, Princess?” inquired Smith in a soft, caressing voice.
“Hey?” she exclaimed in visible alarm, and evidently preparing to scream again.
“Hush. Don’t excite yourself, madame,” he said in his pleasant, reassuring way. “There is no occasion for alarm at all.”
“Am I a sick woman?” she demanded anxiously. “Is that what you’re a-goin’ to hand me? Is it?”
“No, you’re not physically ill. You have no temperature except as much as might be due to sudden shock.”
“I got the scare of my young life all right,” she muttered. “Say, Doc, was it a dream? On the level now, was it?”
“Probably — —”
“Honest to God?” she insisted.
“Why do you think it was not a dream, Princess?” he asked gently.
“Why? Well, I’ve run with Rooshians enough to know a infernal machine when I see one. And I never dream plain, that way. I can see that darn thing yet — and hear it! And I can see them men in there all a settin’ onto chairs in a circle like, and a-watching that there bomb sizzling. It made a blue light but no smoke and no smell. How could I have drempt all that so plain, Doc?”
“Princess! You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
She looked up into his clean-cut, pleasant American face.
“No, I ain’t,” she said. “You come from God’s country” — she suddenly began to beat her pudgy fists on the sheets— “and whyinhell I ever was crazy enough to leave little old Noo York I don’t know excep’ I was damfoolenough to do it!”
Smith smiled at her: “You sure were some peach,” he said, dropping gracefully into the vernacular, “when you played with Nazimova in that Eastside theater.”
The Princess flushed all over, and the radiance of her smile transfigured her amazingly.
“Did you see me in them days, Doc?”
“You betcha!”
“Well-f’r-God’s-sake!” she gasped in wonder and delight. “Say, you had me fooled, Doc. I understood you was a Norsky — a sort of tree-peddlin’ guy. But, thinks I to myself, he looks like a Yank. I says so to my brother, Leo Puppsky — —”
“Don’t say it to him again, Princess. Or to anybody.”
At that the Princess fixed her shrewd little eyes on Smith, shifted them for an instant to me, then resumed her scrutiny of his serene and smiling features.
