TALKING-TALBOT-Chapter-05

Talbot walked slowly away from the house. He didn’t doubt that he had been wise to refuse to be drawn into the scheme, whatever it was. It might be that the plotters would have been able to help him; they certainly had

hindered him, but his judgment told him that he had acted wisely.

The question now was, whether to go on without further thought of them, or to try to figure out first what the extent of their power was, and so be in a position to elude it.

There was young Hopkins at the embassy ; he would be the one to advise him. He not only knew the ins and outs of European politics, but he had been a friend of Donald’s, and therefore would be interested in the matter.

Hopkins was yawning over a long dispatch which he had just finished putting into cipher when Talbot was shown in.

“Wait till 1 seal this, and we’ll have a cigarette together,” the attache said briskly. “Any luck?”

“That’s what I’ve come to talk about.” And then when they were settled in easy-chairs, with cigarettes, he told the story of his connection with the brother and sister down to the moment.

In his interest, Hopkins let his cigarette go out. He asked very few questions, for though brief Talbot was explicit. When he had finished he sank back in the chair and eyed the other.

“Phew!” whistled the attache.

“Do you understand it?” demanded Talbot.

“Surest thing you know,” ejaculated Hopkins, who in his expatriation loved to use all the slang he could. “Revolution; that’s what.”

“Revolution where? In Hungary?”

“Yes. Don’t breathe it, but we’ve been getting information right along that there is a big plot under way to separate the two kingdoms while all this turmoil is on. Just how it is to be done we don’t know. We do know, though, that the Allies are deeply interested in all the disturbances that will make things difficult for their enemies.”

“That would account for the lady’s ability to thwart my inquiries.”
“Sure thing. As for the lady herself,

no doubt she’s the Countess But

there’s no need to give you her name. She’s the center of the work in America, and from all accounts is a little dynamo. So she’s over here. Look here! If I were you I’d steer clear of those people. If you got in their way thej’ wouldn’t consider you any more than you consider the insect you unconsciously crush as you walk through the woods. There’s a kingdom in question, you see.”

•’Well, it looks silly to me,” said Talbot. “It looks like playing pretentiously an impossible game.”

“Because of the pretty woman in it? You’re way off, my friend. If the woman in question is the one I think, she’s as ruthless and as clever as the most hardened conspirator you ever heard of. Women ! Why, bless your heart, they are at the bottom of every successful revolution the world has ever seen. Don’t make the mistake of despising her, whatever else you do. In such a matter she isn’t a woman, but only a conspirator.”

“What credence do you put in what she said about Donald being in Hungary?”

“None. It’s six and half a dozen; fifty-fifty they’re saying now, aren’t they?” He laughed in appreciation of the new bit of slang. “But say!” he cried, with sudden recollection. “One of our American boys has come back from the front slightly wounded. He’s in the American hospital. Go see him. He’ll know whether or not Don was taken by the Austrians. And say ! Do keep out of Countess — that woman’s way.”

“Do you think I’d have been wiser to take up with her proposition?”

“Not on your life! Even if she’s telling the truth now, she wouldn’t hesitate to sacrifice you, and Donald with you, the moment it was to the advantage of their plot. Here!” He scrib-

bled on a blank card. “This is the name of the young fellow in the hospital. Tell the doctor you come from me. Oh, another thing! Get a move on as soon as you can.”

Talbot went first to the hospital. It was on the other side of the river, and the day was slipping away, but the Metro took him there in a few minutes, and when he arrived a few urgent words to the physician in charge gained him his interview.

The young fellow had nothing worse the matter with him than a bullet in his arm and a broken bone; so he talked readily. He confirmed the story of being opposed by Austrian troops at the time of Donald’s disappearance. That was all he knew, but it was enough to satisfy Talbot that he couldn’t do better than hurry on to Hungary and there investigate the prisoners’ camps.

After some hesitation he went to a cable office and sent a message to Mrs. Brookfield. “Reason to believe Donald prisoner in Hungary.” He had decided to give her that much comfort.

Then he went to his hotel to eat and plan for departure. It was evident the moment he entered his room that Harry had been there for his clothes. After a few moments he saw a note stuck in the frame of the mirror:

Dear Mr. Tai.bot: Whatever you may now think of me. I must tell you that my feeling for you- remains the same. Don’t judge me too harshly until you know all the circumstances ; as you may some day. You arc threatened. I know that in your supreme courage you will be tempted to disregard the threat. Don’t. There is real danger to you. A woman may be beautiful and yet implacable. By the way, the information concerning your friend is absolutely correct. Beware from this moment. H. F.

“Umph !” grunted Talbot. “I wonder if that lovely creature is really the tigress they would make her out. Countess somebody ! And he a count. Well, there is a little melodrama left in life, anyhow.”
He dined, and then went hunting for Hopkins to report his success and to hasten arrangements for his departure for Hungary the next day. Passports and money matters had to be looked after, and letters of introduction obtained.

He found the attache at last, and, having made him acquainted with the new developments, arranged with him to get things started as early in the morning as possible.

It was late when he returned to his hotel, and he was prepared to enjoy a night’s rest. The hotel was one of the small, old-fashioned sort, but very comfortable. Talbot had his first really restful night since reaching Paris.

As he sat over his coffee and rolls in the morning, he took stock of the situation he found himself in. His first and instinctive feeling had been not to take the lovely countess seriously, and even now he might have dismissed her as a mere spectacular incident if he alone had been concerned. Since his mission was to rescue Donald, if alive, he decided to pay the threatening beauty the compliment of running away from her as quickly as possible.

She might or might not be able to do something to him once he was in Hungary, but at any rate he would get there first and be through with his task before she could reasonably hope to get there.

He met with no delays as he went about, and even when his needs took him into the various government offices where he had met with wearisome difficulties before, he now found everybody ready and even eager to give him all the assistance he needed, and even to suggest some things that he had not thought of.

Thus he was advised to go across Switzerland, and the way made easy by passes and recommendations ; he was put in the way of obtaining all he wanted of Austrian money of all sorts.

In fact, as if sorry for the delays previously spread out before him, everybody moved to assist him with smiling alacrity.

This kindness seemed on the whole as suspicious as the previous policy of hindrance had been; so when his business with the various departments was all transacted he went to Hopkins to ask his opinion.

The change of route involved his remaining one night more in Paris, anyhow, so he could take the time to talk the matter over with his sophisticated friend.

“I wouldn’t bother you ordinarily,” he said by way of preface, “but this storybook business of a plot with a kingdom for a prize and a woman flaming threats at me and a young diplomat full of mystery have ended by making me suspicious of everything.”

Hopkins laughed. “‘You’ll be lucky if it’s never any more than a joke to you. I’ve been able to confirm my suspicion that the countess is here with her brother, and that she represents the Hungarian revolutionists in America. She has brought over a huge sum of money, and there is an inside but ostensibly unofficial movement of the allied governments to give her all the aid they can.”

“You’re sure of that?”

“Positive.” –

“Then she is dangerous, and I’d better get away from here the soonest possible.”

“That’s my notion of it. You see, Hungary is bent on having a government of her own, and now seems their best chance. I have private information that the Allies are promising every help to that end if the new government of Hungary will throw in its lot with them. All the fighting isn’t bein^ done in the trenches, you see. Now for your story.”

Talbot told all that he had done, and how he had been helped where previously he had been hindered.

“I confess I don’t like the looks of it,” said Hopkins, shaking his head and frowning. “Why should you be given such generous assistance? With the letters you have to Austrian officials, in addition to the help the French government has given you to get to Austria ; then your letters to Swiss officials. Say, have you been followed about since you’ve been here?”

“I have been to-day, but it seemed too silly to pay any attention to.”

“Silly! Do you know that the papers you carry would be a great help to anybody wanting to slip into Austria? I’ll bet those plotters know everything you carry.”

“Much good may it do them.”

Hopkins looked him over approvingly. “You’d put up a good tight all right. But say! If everybody’s been fitting you out so carefully to get into Austria, it’s because it’s important that somebody should have just that equipment. Now you’re an American, and everybody who is at all interested knows just what your business is. You can get what no one else could.”

“You mean they intend to use me as a cat’s-paw.”

“I don’t say so positively, but anyhow it’s sure that you carry papers that would be useful to a Hungarian revolutionist who wanted to get into Hungary.”

“Yes, that’s sure; but I’m not going to give them up.”

“Do you know,” said the attache seriously, “that I think it would be a wise thing for you to stay with me to-night. I’ll send for your luggage, and you can start the first thing in the morning.”

“Well,” answered Talbot after a pause, “maybe I would be wise to stay with you, but somehow I want to find out what I’m really up against. I believe I’ll go to my hotel.”

“You’re armed?” “Always.”

“Well, for Heaven’s sake keep out of trouble,” said Hopkins, shaking his hand warmly, and inwardly congratulating himself that he was not in Talbot’s place.

The streets were dark when Talbot went into them. Lights had been few and far between since the days when the fear of Zeppelins had fallen on Paris. To make matters worse there were no taxis to be had, and there was a line rain falling.

Talbot stood for a while in the doorway, giving his eyes time to become accustomed to the darkness. When he started on his homeward way he listened for footsteps behind him, and occasionally glanced swiftly behind him.

He had gone half a dozen blocks before he was satisfied that he was being followed. Then he turned a corner suddenly and waited a while ; then as suddenly went back as he had come. A small man with upturned collar almost ran into him.

Three times Talbot did this with the same result. The last time he stopped in front of the man, having contrived this time to have the meeting under a light.

“I’m going to my hotel,” he said, getting in the man’s way. “Will you go with me? It will save you such a lot of trouble.”

The little man snarled something inarticulate, and was for passing Talbot, but the latter put out a restraining arm.

“No, but come then,” he said quietly. “You have been going my way all day. Let’s walk together at last. We can talk then.”

“You are crazy,” the other snapped. He spoke his French like a foreigner. “I don’t know you. I don’t want to know you.”

“You are foolish to waste so much time following me then,” Talbot said quietly. “If you continue to do so you may know me without wishing to. I assure you 1 am going straight to my hotel. So good night to you.”

The man went away quickly as soon as Talbot moved, and it seemed from the sounds he made that he was strangling. Talbot laughed.

“How funny these spies are!” he thought. “They become so angry when they are found out.”

So far as he knew he wasn’t followed any farther. He was wary in passing particularly dark spots, but saw nothing at any time to make him feel that danger lurked along his way.

Ever since he had lived in the open spaces of the West it had seemed to him that he was very sensitive to Unfriendly presences. More than once this sixth sense of his had served him well; so that he had come to have faith in it, and to feel sure now that, excepting for the spy, there had been nothing evil or threatening on the streets.

He took his key from the clerk, asked that his bill should be ready early in the morning, and went upstairs.

It was between ten and eleven o’clock — a time when Paris hotels are at their quietest. Talbot took it for granted that now that he was in the hotel he had no need for caution, and yet he was cautious.

He went softly along the corridor to his room, listening intently, and half laughing at himself. “These revolutionists have given me the willies,” he thought. ■

At his door he stopped and listened again before he put the key in the lock. There wasn’t a sound to be heard, and yet he was uneasy. He took a small, quick-firing revolver from his side pocket and held it in his right hand, while he unlocked the door with his left.

His room was pitch dark and still, and yet Talbot coidd have sworn there was some one in there. He squatted

low, and, putting his fingers on the electric button by the side of the door, turned it, staring into the room ready to see what was there.

The light didn’t come. He was sure now that some one was there. He didn’t believe for a moment that something was out of order with the switch, except as it had purposely been made so.

He decided quickly. He might have slipped out and gone downstairs for a light and assistance. He preferred some risk and to have the whole affair in his own hands.

“Something’s gone wrong with the light,” he said audibly, but as if thinking aloud. “I’ll have to turn it on at the bulb.”

He closed the door, and made several deliberate steps toward the center of the room ; then seemed to hesitate, as if seeking the bulb in the darkness. In reality he was listening. A faint sound came to his ears from just in front of him.

“Confound the thing! Where is that bulb? Oh, here it is!”

As he spoke he leaped lightly backward and crouched down. It happened as he had expected — a sudden rush and a blow that smashed the bulbs on the electrolier. And he was aware that there were two persons besides himself in the room.

“If either of you moves a step I’ll shoot !” he said in a tone that was cold and hard.

At the sound of his voice the two intruders flung themselves in that direction. Instead of shooting, as he had threatened, he closed his hand over the barrel of the revolver, and hooked, in boxing parlance, taking the chance of landing.

He rose as he delivered the blow, and knew instantly that he had had the good fortune to land on the face of one of his assailants. The other one fell against him, and they grappled.
The tussle was sharp and short. It would have needed a veritable Hercules to hold his own with Chester Talbot in a mere trial of strength. In this case Talbot didn’t hesitate to use the butt of his pistol freely, with the result that the man sank, limp and groaning, to the floor.

As he had been free from any attack by the first man he had struck, he took it for granted that he was disabled. Me felt rapidly about, and found that both men were stretched on the floor. Instantly he struck a match and looked at them. They were only semiconscious, if that.

Another lighted match showed him that the bulbs on the electrolier were all out of commission. He turned to the light that stood at the head of his bed. It was intact. He turned it on, and then stood to take breath and view the battlefield.

Both men were covered with blood, but were not seriously hurt, and were recovering consciousness. He used their own handkerchiefs to bind their wrists with. He noted as he used them that they were of fine silk and faintly scented. The men were not ordinary ruffians, then.

A glance about the room showed that his effects had been thoroughly searched. He smiled grimly, and set about a search of their pockets and clothes generally.

He found nothing that interested him excepting a box of his own visiting cards and several business letters addressed to him. He smiled as he realized that they had come for what he had on his person — the letters of introduction, the passport, the money, perhaps, and the notes he had made from time to time.

There was nothing on them to give him any clew to their names or nationality, though of the latter he had little doubt. Even with the blood on their faces they were unmistakably Hun-

garians. That is, he assumed so under the circumstances.

The first man struck and the one least injured was now recovering rapidly, so Talbot used some stout twine he had to secure his feet first and then those of the other man.

After that he washed away the blood with a wet towel so that he would have a chance to see their faces properly when they recovered. This done, he lighted a cigarette and waited.

When the first man had recovered consciousness fully, Talbot helped him to a sitting posture, with his back against the wall. The man scowled, but was silent. Talbot smiled at him.

Presently the other man came to, and was treated in a similar way. The two men looked at each other, and then fiercely at Talbot. He was the first to break the silence.

“I am assuming, gentlemen, that you are Hungarian patriots. I know you are gentlemen by your conduct, and 1 guess you are Hungarians. Am I correct?”

One of the men. the second one to go down, growled incoherently and looked at the other, by reason of which Talbot took the latter to be the one of greater authority. It was that one who answered him.

“What are you going to do?” he demanded, with a haughtiness that was ludicrous under the circumstances, Talbot thought.

“I don’t know,” he answered slowly. “I don’t know what is best to do. You annoy me exceedingly, and I might turn you over to the police.” A flash of joy lighted up the man’s face. Talbot noted it, and went meditatively on : “But I don’t believe I will. I am more disposed to send for the American ambassador. Ah, I see that is distasteful to you. I propose then that we have an amicable discussion. What do you •say ?”

“What do you want to discuss?”
“To begin with, am I right in supposing you to be Hungarian revolutionists?”

“We are Hungarians.”

“Why have you been here searching my things and assaulting me ?”

“I must leave the answer to that question to your own imagination.”

“Then we will consider your answer to be that I have some articles of value to you in your revolutionary activities. Now don’t you think you are not merely unreasonable in acting toward me as you do. but even ridiculous?”

“I think you would better decide to do something with us, and do it,” was the petulant response.

“Even the American ambassador? Would you like America to get busy and keep all Hungarians in the United States? You know that might happen if your revolution were thoroughly aired. And I have the influence to see that it does happen.”

The man bit his lip. The other man muttered an expletive in what Talbot took for Hungarian.

“Now,” said Talbot, with a grimness that was made impressive by the cold evenness of his tone, “1 am tired of your silly attentions to me. If I have any feeling about your revolution it is one of sympathy, but above everything else I want to fulfill my mission over here. You know what that is, for I have taken extraordinary pains to make it known. I won’t meddle with you if you leave me alone, but if you insist on your dime-novel, melodramatic, and altogether asinine methods of treating me. I promise you you will repent it. Have I made myself clear?”

“What do you want me to say ‘:” the man asked.

“Good God ! Am I to tell you what to say? You know whether or not you understand me.”

“I understand you.”

“Will you undertake to convince that

absurd countess that we are living in the world and not in a storybook?”

The man’s face grew purple with anger. “I will undertake nothing. You will do with us what you please, and you will take the consequences. No harm has been meant you, and none would be done you if you had been or would yet be reasonable.”

“You mean consent to be your puppet?” demanded Talbot, with such contemptuous scorn that the other ground his tee.th together. “What a pack of idiots you are !”

Without another word he got up and stretched the two men out on the floor, side by side, placing the subordinate acro.-s the doorway so that the door could not be opened without pushing him out of the way. The other man he adjusted close to him, but with his head to the heels of the other.

“I expect you to lie as placed,” he said sharply. “I’m going to bed.”

He looked to the fastenings of their ankles and wrists, and reen forced the latter with twine. Then he bound the arm of one to a leg of the other.

“You’ll not be very comfortable,” he said as he undressed calmly, “but at least you’ll be better off than I would have been if you had found me as easy as I found you.”

“‘What do you mean to do?” the spokesman demanded.

“You will discover that when I do it. I am still ready to discuss my lack of connection with your silly revolution, but I prefer not to waste words with you. I may say. though, that I don’t think much of your chances if you and your absurd countess are fair samples of the other leaders.”

The two men on the floor talked together jn a language unknown to Talbot

“You know.” he said quietly, “I shall gag you if you don’t stop talking. I want to sleep.”

Both men swore. There could be no doubt of that, even if what they said was unintelligible. The fact was that Talbot could have done nothing to disturb them as his matter-of-fact preparations for sleep had done.

“If we promise not to interfere with you again will you let us go?” the loader asked.

“You’ve lost your chance to make terms, my revolutionary hero,” Talbot answered, with a sarcasm that made the man writhe. “I’m sleepy now. In the morning I may decide to talk with you. I don’t know.”

Talbot, after putting out the light and opening his window, know ing that the men could not do anything without awakening him, got into bed, knowing himself to be a light sleeper, and closed his eyes at last.

He slept soundly and peacefully, and when morning came got up and dressed as if the men were not there. The leader spoke to him several times, but Talbot went about his toilet, whistling softly, as if he were quite alone.

Finally the man desisted, and Talbot finished-dressing and packing. For convenience in traveling he had only one large bag.

When he was quite ready he took some towels, and set about gagging both men in spite of their fierce protestations.

“What you think doesn’t interest me,” he said in his grim way. “I am not going to hurt you or make you any more uncomfortable than I can help, but I am going to arrange so that you won’t be disturbed till noon, anyhow. By that time I shall be far on my way. Perhaps I had better lell you that you have seen me in a mild, a very mild, mood. If you will take my advice — though I think you are much too big a fool to do it — you will not meddle with me again. And say! It’s none of my business, but why don’t you get a man to take charge of your revolution? You’ll never get anywhere with that absurd countess, who evidently got all

her ideas out of the Balkan romances she has read.”

What the men might have answered to this, Talbot neither knew nor cared. They were gagged and speechless, and he was ready to go.

He locked the door on the outside ; then found the man in charge of that floor and gave him his bag to carry downstairs.

“I left a friend asleep in my room,” he said to the man, slipping a five-franc piece into his hand. “Don’t disturb him until after noon.”

“No, monsieur.”

‘ I’ll give the key to the patron when I pay my bill, so you must let him out some time after noon. Will you?”

“Yes, monsieur.”

Talbot paid his bill, publicly tipped everybody in sight, including the man already tipped, got into the old motheaten hack that had been brought out to take the place of the taxi autos requisitioned for the army, and was driven to the Gare de Lyons.