The Visionists/Chapter 10
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"Life is so interesting!" Madame Spiritan was saying. "Isn't human nature just splendid? It's enough for me just to sit and watch people, they're all so different and original, and everyone has their own character and aura and psychic filament-things seeking out for their affinities—do you believe in affinities?—and I never did see why their thought-waves don't get all tangled up—perhaps they do, after all; things are usually in such a dreadful mess, aren't they? It's really a wonder that we get along as well as we do. Sometimes I wish I were a fly on the ceiling just to look down at all these foolish creatures, with suckers, or whatever they are, on my feet. No doubt flies are quite as much absorbed in their own affairs as we are, though, and make love for a business, as they do in society, only they increase and multiply more, and it never occurs to them that we are bothering with taxes and esoteric phenomena and fourth dimensions, whatever that is. Mercy me! I never could see why people wanted to bother themselves about any other kind of a thickness; one's quite enough for me, and when a woman has passed thirty and don't worry about getting fat I'm perfectly convinced she's a fool."
She paused and took up her fan, bending gracefully, to smile with abandoned coquetry at Count Pribdoff. But she did not use her eyes upon the count alone. Her gaze made quick adventures about the room, seeking something and returning to the Russian's face. Even as she raised her eyebrows at him, speeding a languishing phrase, her darting eye would go and come again.
Lady Felvex's rooms had filled, but Nomé had not yet returned. She was eagerly awaited by many who had been promised sight of her, for, though she had ceased to be the nine days' wonder in town, so few persons had seen her that much curiosity was still alive. Tales of her beauty and her charm had magnified the popular interest in her adventure, and, as she easily took a prominent place in Lady Felvex's assemblies, her appearance had always provoked much whispering. One heard her name upon many lips tonight. Lady Felvex was visibly embarrassed in accounting lamely for her guest's absence, and one or two were bold enough to suspect Lord Felvex of being worried, if not alarmed, at her absence. Nomé had not returned home for dinner. Count Pribdoff raised his eyebrows and smiled to Madame Spiritan at the news, and that vivacious lady tapped him on the cheek with her fan.
Host and hostess stood to receive their guests where they could get a clear view of the door, toward which they cast frequent glances.
A stream of visitors entered, paid their respects and lounged away, not unusually to the chattering group where Madame Spiritan entertained a crowd of men with bewildering skill. Following a group of Lady Felvex's friends, toward ten o'clock, a young man, immaculately dressed, smoothly shaven, with quick, alert eyes, entered the door, was announced as "Mr. Brillish," and stood awaiting his chance to speak his word of greeting. Lady Felvex flung a look of inquiry at her husband.
"A man from the office," said the minister. "Pass him over to me with a few words."
The young man approached, and the welcome he received from his hostess was in no respect to be distinguished from that which she had given her own friends. The two exchanged complimentary commonplaces, after which Mr. Brillish stepped up to Lord Felvex. The two, in speaking, gradually edged away from the nearby guests.
"We located the gang tonight, my lord," said Brillish.
"Well?" was the minister's reply.
"Raided this evening at about eight o'clock. We took twelve after a pretty tough fight."
"Who were they?"
"O'Brien, Lasker, Norwell, Hertzberg and Devonwall, and more of that set we had not known, and two women."
The minister pulled at his mustache. Then, smiling across the room at a lady who had playfully shaken her fan at him, he said:
"Who were the women?"
"One was the Strieb woman, who was here. She was shot in the lungs and will die. The other one was unknown to us."
Lord Felvex's voice was well mastered as he asked: "What was she like?"
"Dark, probably Spanish, brown eyes, rather good clothes, intelligent. We hope to find out who she is before morning. She may be the woman Brussels was looking for. But it looks nasty. If I might take the liberty of warning you, my lord, of asking you to take precautions"
"You may not. This is no surprise to me. How did you find them?"
"That's the curious part. The Strieb woman gave information at the Chelsea station, while she was supposed to be on guard. They were meeting in an old wine-cellar. Twelve men were sent, and as soon as they got down into the cellar, the lights went out and the whole lot were locked in a dark pen. The men were ordered not to shoot unless absolutely necessary, but even if they had not, they would have been afraid of killing one another. Then the Strieb woman came down with a light, thinking it was all over, I fancy, and the captain broke for the door, got his men into the passage, and the rest was easy enough."
"You are sure there was no one of consequence besides O'Brien?"
"No one we know. Mangus must have got out before the row, by some other exit."
"I'm sorry. I must have that man. He's worth more than all the rest put together."
"We are after him tonight."
"See that you get him. That's all?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Won't you stay, Mr. Brillish?" The words were spoken as the company closed in upon the two.
"Thank you, my lord, I must leave immediately."
Both men bowed, and Mr. Brillish withdrew. Lord Felvex took his place at his wife's side.
"I can't think what has become of Nomé," she said. "I am getting alarmed. It is most extraordinary."
"She will come; don't be worried," said Lord Felvex, but his tone was not convinced.
Madame Spiritan, having watched the colloquy between the two men as closely as possible, now moved up to her hosts.
"I trust we shall not be disappointed in meeting Miss Destin tonight," she said cooingly.
"Lord Felvex has just reassured me," said Lady Felvex. "Miss Destin was away for the afternoon and has been detained longer than she expected. She will surely be here before long."
"I am much relieved to hear that," was the reply, and Madame Spiritan sauntered away with the count and renewed her prattle.
She had already received news of the raid, but the details of the affair were unknown to her. She felt herself fairly secure in her position, but she waited anxiously for Nomé's appearance, for it was scarcely to be expected that, with the information now undoubtedly in the hands of the police, the girl was not in grave danger. Madame Spiritan wondered how much the minister already knew. As she masked her doubts and took up her persiflage with Count Pribdoff again. Colonel Grennyngs came into the drawing-room, and, after a few words with Lord and Lady Felvex, trotted up to Madame Spiritan's side.
"How dare you leave so soon. Belle?" he complained. "D'you know I gadded round to your place to bring over that bull pup I promised, you know, and, by Jove, you were gone! Think of your getting away before ten! I was in no end of a rage! He's a beauty, too; all full of points and own grandson of Bultitude Third! And I say, that Céleste of yours is a decent little thing, don't you know! I don't see how you dare keep such a pretty gal with you. Belle!"
"Keep your hands off Céleste," said Count Pribdoff. "I discovered her, you know!"
"If she's discovered by you she's lost!" said the colonel.
"Peaches and cream, peaches and cream," murmured the count.
"And a spoon," added Madame Spiritan.
"And I say, she showed me a box of roses that had just come for you, Belle—I had a mind to bring some over," said Colonel Grennyngs.
"White roses?" Madame Spiritan asked, with a sudden show of interest.
"No, red."
"Pshaw, how silly—of course they were white. You know I never wear red roses."
"But they were red—I know they were red."
"You're quite sure?"
"Positive!"
"As if it mattered!" laughed Count Pribdoff.
"It matters a good deal," asserted Madame Spiritan. "You evidently don't believe in symbolism."
"Ah—one doesn't send white roses to a married woman, of course."
"Nonsense! I didn't mean that."
"Red is for blood," said the colonel eloquently.
"Or for wine," put in Count Pribdoff.
"Also for currant jelly and strawberries—there's a relativity in all vibration," said Madame Spiritan.
"You don't tell me!" replied the colonel. "Now, I suppose that's one of your clever jokes!"
A flutter of whispers interrupted them, and they turned to see Nomé, star-eyed, in black velvet, enter the room with a grace and finished manner that betrayed no hint of the crisis she had just passed. Madame Spiritan's eyes softened a little as she watched the girl, and her hand was clenched nervously.
Lady Felvex came halfway to meet her guest. Nomé was almost breathless with the haste she had made in dressing.
"I am so sorry that I was detained," she said. "I met an old friend and was persuaded to stay for dinner. I hope I haven't caused you any anxiety!"
"I confess that I'm relieved," her hostess replied. "There are several persons waiting to be presented to you, and I didn't want them to be disappointed."
She brought them up to Nomé, and the girl became again the centre of an interested circle. Excitement always stimulated her speech. She was, by this time, keyed up to a high tension by the events of the day and her words came freely. She turned from one to the other, as the discussion became general, and Madame Spiritan's quick perceptions told her, even across the room, that the company, eager for anything new and charmed by the naïveté and enthusiasm of the young American girl, were skilfully drawing her out. It was something more than amusement, if less than serious interest, that she read upon their faces; but any lack of sincerity was so well concealed that Nomé's limited experience in society detected no hypocrisy in it.
Madame Spiritan noticed, too, that Lord Felvex, after a word with his wife, had left the room. The spy, with her message now to deliver, could wait no longer. The word must be passed immediately, for the least delay was dangerous. She approached the group that still surrounded Nomé and awaited her chance. The girl blushed dangerously as she recognized her ally.
"One should not need to know why one saves another's life," Lady Felvex was saying.
"One should know why one refuses to save it, and that's my point," Nomé replied. "Lord Felvex saved a comrade's life with great risk to his own, and obtained a Victoria Cross for doing what was no more than his duty—or what he thought was his duty. I admire and respect him for it, surely, for it was unselfish and brave. It is not often that a man's life flowers into so gallant an act. But none the less was it born of the fetich worship of what he calls honor or duty. Were it a real religion with him would he not use that courage on some more vital conflict than a war of aggrandizement, forced upon his country by an irresponsible ministry? Would he not attempt to save the lives of the thousands of unfortunates by thinking out his principles and acting upon them, instead of accepting this deadly doctrine of laissez faire? There are thousands of lives in London in more deadly peril than was that guardsman in South Africa. It seems to me that some of his duty lies there!"
"It depends upon what you mean by 'duty,' Miss Destin," Lady Felvex answered. "It seems to me that most arguments are merely quarrels over the definitions of things. No doubt if we could agree upon the definitions we would easily find ourselves reconciled in our points of view. We spend our time disputing over words, rather than upon real principles of action."
"But definitions are only the embodiments of principles," Nomé maintained. "There you are quarreling over a word yourself. I believe with you that if we could agree upon definitions we would probably agree on lines of action. But what is all philosophy but an attempt to define the universe?"
"What is your definition of the universe. Miss Destin?" asked one of the gentlemen mischievously.
Nomé, seriously absorbed in the discussion, missed the raillery in his tone, and, thinking only of the stupidity of his misunderstanding, was about to explain her point elaborately when she became aware of the general smile that rippled about her. She blushed at her own sluggish sense of humor, and Count Pribdoff came to her relief with:
"I should say that the universe was a runaway train on a line full of curves, grades and tunnels."
"I consider it a sort of giant reception where we pay exaggerated respect to a host who never appears," remarked Madame Spiritan, as if looking for Lord Felvex.
"I accept the amendment; your definition is better than mine," said the count, smiling.
"It is only one of many," was the enigmatic retort. So trivially was the sentence uttered that it passed for badinage, and the talk went lightly on, but, in speaking, Madame Spiritan looked squarely and seriously at Nomé, taking pains to catch her eye.
The message burst like a bomb in Nomé's mind. Her face again suffused with color, her hand went to her heart with the familiar gesture. Though she made an attempt to disguise her emotion and enter the conversation again, the endeavor was futile; for even had she ever been able to hold her own in the jocose channel into which the talk had turned, the summons she recognized and accepted, that bade her prepare herself for immediate action, startled her more deeply than she had anticipated. There was no escape now, no chance for procrastination and self-regard; the deed must be done! Before, she had gone through a solemn and absorbing preparation, she had had chance to reflect, plan and temporize with the danger; now, to be given the word in the midst of such gay frivolity stunned hen For a moment she could not adjust her mind to the thought that it was come at last.
Nevertheless, she aroused herself, lashing her will to action. It must be done, now! The pistol was upstairs in her chamber—it must be immediately secured. She looked about for Lord Felvex, but he was nowhere to be seen. Then she moved to her hostess's side and waited till she could have word with her alone.
"Will you pardon me if I retire now?" Nomé asked at the first chance. "I am quite fatigued, and utterly unable to talk any more."
"Certainly," Lady Felvex replied. "You do look tired. Try and get a good sleep tonight."
"I would like to speak to Lord Felvex for a few minutes first," Nomé hazarded. "I want to speak to him about some perplexing lousiness, that came up this afternoon."
"I'm so sorry! My husband was called away to his office on important affairs, and he'll not be here till dinner-time tomorrow. He'll be at his office tomorrow morning, however, and you might see him there, if you like."
"Thank you, I may trouble him for a few moments there, as my business is quite urgent. Good night."
On her way out she met Madame Spiritan, who, in the hall, took the girl's hand and pressed it warmly.
"Be brave!" she whispered. "All depends upon you now! I am so sorry you could not come with me, but you to your part of the work and I to mine, and both for the Cause! In case I do not see you again, good-bye, dear! Let me kiss you, Nomé? There—good-bye—I leave for Berne at midnight."
Nomé went up to her room, and for a long time the light shone through the curtains of her windows.