Mysterious Mr. Sabin by E. Phillips Oppenheim (read books for money TXT) 📕

the symptoms!”

The Ambassador was listening with greedy ears—he was breathing hard through his teeth! It was easy to see that the glamour of the thing had laid hold of him. He foresaw for himself an immortal name, for his country a greatness beyond the wildest dreams of her most sanguine ministers. Bismarck himself had planned nothing like this! Yet he did not altogether lose his common sense.

“But Russia,” he objected, “she would never sanction a German invasion of France.”

Mr. Sabin smiled scornfully.

“You are a great politician, my dear Baron, and you say a thing like that! You amaze me! But of course the whole affair is new to you; you have not thought it out as I have done. Whatever happens in Europe, Russia will maintain the isolation for which geography and temperament have marked her out. She would not stir one finger to help France. Why should she? What could France give her in return? What would she gain by plunging into an exhausting war? To the core of his heart and the tips of his finger-nails the Muscovite is selfish! Then, again, consider this. You are not going to ruin France as you did before; you are going to establish a new dynasty, and not waste the land or exact a mighty tribute. Granted that sentiments of friendship exist between Russia and France, do you not think that Russia would not sooner see France a monarchy? Do you think that she would stretch out her little finger to aid a tottering republic and keep back a king from the throne of France? Mon Dieu! Never!”

Mr. Sabin’s face was suddenly illuminated. A fire flashed in his dark eyes, and a note of fervent passion quivered lifelike in his vibrating voice. His manner had all the abandon of one pleading a great cause, nursed by a great heart. He was a patriot or a poet, surely not only a politician or a mere intriguing adventurer. For a moment he suffered his enthusiasm to escape him. Then the mask was as suddenly dropped. He was himself again, calm, convincing, impenetrable.

As the echoes of his last interjection died away there was a silence between the two men. It was the Ambassador at last who broke it. He was looking curiously at his companion.

“I must confess,” he said slowly, “that you have fascinated me! You have done more, you have made me see dreams and possibilities which, set down upon paper, I should have mocked at. Mr. Sabin, I can no longer think of you as a person—you are a personage! We are here alone, and I am as secret as the grave; be so kind as to lift the veil of your incognito. I can no longer think of you as Mr. Sabin. Who are you?”

Mr. Sabin smiled a curious smile, and lit a cigarette from the open box before him.

“That,” he said, pushing the box across the table, “you may know in good time if, in commercial parlance, we deal. Until that point is decided, I am Mr. Sabin. I do not even admit that it is an incognito.”

“And yet,” the Ambassador said, with a curious lightening of his face, as though recollection had suddenly been vouchsafed to him, “I fancy that if I were to call you——”

Mr. Sabin’s protesting hand was stretched across the table.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, “let it remain between us as it is now! My incognito is a necessity for the present. Let it continue to be—Mr. Sabin! Now answer me. All has been said that can be said between us. What is your opinion?”

The Ambassador rose from his seat and stood upon the hearthrug with his back to the fire. There was a streak of colour upon his sallow cheeks, and his eyes shone brightly underneath his heavy brows. He had removed his spectacles and was swinging them lightly between his thumb and forefinger.

“I will be frank with you,” he said. “My opinion is a favourable one. I shall apply for leave of absence to-morrow. In a week all that you have said shall be laid before my master. Such as my personal influence is, it will be exerted on behalf of the acceptance of your scheme. The greatest difficulty will be, of course, in persuading the Emperor of its practicability—in plain words, that what you say you have to offer will have the importance which you attribute to it.”

“If you fail in that,” Mr. Sabin said, also rising, “send for me! But bear this in mind, if my scheme should after all be ineffective, if it should fail in the slightest detail to accomplish all that I claim for it, what can you lose? The payment is conditional upon its success; the bargain is all in your favour. I should not offer such terms unless I held certain cards. Remember, if there are difficulties send for me!”

“I will do so,” the Ambassador said as he buttoned his overcoat. “Now give me a limit of time for our decision.”

“Fourteen days,” Mr. Sabin said. “How I shall temporise with Lobenski so long I cannot tell. But I will give you fourteen days from to-day. It is ample!”

The two men exchanged farewells and parted. Mr. Sabin, with a cigarette between his teeth, and humming now and then a few bars from one of Verdi’s operas, commenced to carefully select a bagful of golf clubs from a little pile which stood in one corner of the room. Already they bore signs of considerable use, and he handled them with the care of an expert, swinging each one gently, and hesitating for some time between a wooden or a metal putter, and longer still between the rival claims of a bulger and a flat-headed brassey. At last the bag was full; he resumed his seat and counted them out carefully.

“Ten,” he said to himself softly. “Too many; it looks amateurish.”

Some of the steel heads were a little dull; he took a piece of chamois leather from the pocket of the bag and began polishing them. As they grew brighter he whistled softly to himself. This time the opera tune seemed to have escaped him; he was whistling the “Marseillaise!”

CHAPTER XVIII “HE HAS GONE TO THE EMPEROR!”

The Ambassador, when he left Mr. Sabin’s house, stepped into a hired hansom and drove off towards Arlington Street. A young man who had watched him come out, from the other side of the way, walked swiftly to the corner of the street and stepped into a private brougham which was waiting there.

“To the Embassy,” he said. “Drive fast!”

The carriage set him down in a few minutes at the house to which Densham and Harcutt had followed Mr. Sabin on the night of their first meeting with him. He walked swiftly into the hall.

“Is his Excellency within?” he asked a tall servant in plain dress who came forward to meet him.

“Yes, Monsieur Felix,” the man answered; “he is dining very late to-night—in fact, he has not yet risen from the table.”

“Who is with him?” Felix asked.

“It is a very small party. Madame la Princesse has just arrived from Paris, and his Excellency has been waiting for her.”

He mentioned a few more names; there was no one of importance. Felix walked into the hall-porter’s office and scribbled a few words on half a sheet of paper, which he placed in an envelope and carefully sealed.

“Let his Excellency have this privately and at once,” he said to the man; “I will go into the waiting room.”

The man withdrew with the note, and Felix crossed the hall and entered a small room nearly opposite. It was luxuriously furnished with easy chairs and divans; there were cigars, and cigarettes, and decanters upon a round table. Felix took note of none of these things, nor did he sit down. He stood with his hands behind him, looking steadily into the fire. His cheeks were almost livid, save for a single spot of burning colour high up on his cheek-bone. His fingers twitched nervously, his eyes were dry and restlessly bright. He was evidently in a state of great excitement. In less than two minutes the door opened, and a tall, distinguished-looking man, grey headed, but with a moustache still almost black, came softly into the room. His breast glittered with orders, and he was in full Court dress. He nodded kindly to the young man, who greeted him with respect.

“Is it anything important, Felix?” he asked; “you are looking tired.”

“Yes, your Excellency, it is important,” Felix answered; “it concerns the man Sabin.”

The Ambassador nodded.

“Well,” he said, “what of him? You have not been seeking to settle accounts with him, I trust, after our conversation, and your promise?”

Felix shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I gave my word and I shall keep it! Perhaps you may some day regret that you interfered between us.”

“I think not,” the Prince replied. “Your services are valuable to me, my dear Felix; and in this country, more than any other, deeds of violence are treated with scant ceremony, and affairs of honour are not understood. No, I saved you from yourself for myself. It was an excellent thing for both of us.”

“I trust,” Felix repeated, “that your Excellency may always think so. But to be brief. The report from Cartienne is to hand.”

The Ambassador nodded and listened expectantly.

“He confirms fully,” Felix continued, “the value of the documents which are in question. How he obtained access to them he does not say, but his report is absolute. He considers that they justify fully the man Sabin’s version of them.”

The Prince smiled.

“My own judgment is verified,” he said. “I believed in the man from the first. It is good. By the bye, have you seen anything of Mr. Sabin to-day?”

“I have come straight,” Felix said, “from watching his house.”

“Yes?”

“The Baron von Knigenstein has been there alone, incognito, for more than an hour. I watched him go in—and watched him out.”

The Prince’s genial smile vanished. His face grew suddenly as dark as thunder. The Muscovite crept out unawares. There was a fierce light in his eyes, and his face was like the face of a wolf; yet his voice when he spoke was low.

“So ho!” he said softly. “Mr. Sabin is doing a little flirting, is he? Ah!”

“I believe,” the young man answered slowly, “that he has advanced still further than that. The Baron was there for an hour. He came out walking like a young man. He was in a state of great excitement.”

The Prince sat down and stroked the side of his face thoughtfully.

“The great elephant!” he muttered. “Fancy such a creature calling himself a diplomatist! It is well, Felix,” he added, “that I had finished my dinner, otherwise you would certainly have spoilt it. If they have met like this, there is no end to the possibilities of it. I must see Sabin immediately. It ought to be easy to make him understand that I am not to be trifled with. Find out where he is to-night, Felix; I must follow him.”

Felix took up his hat.

“I will be back,” he said, “in half an hour.”

The Prince returned to his guests, and Felix drove off. When he returned his chief was waiting for him alone.

“Mr. Sabin,” Felix announced, “left town half an hour ago.”

“For abroad!” the Prince exclaimed, with flashing eyes. “He has gone to Germany!”

Felix shook his head.

“On the contrary,” he said; “he has gone down into Norfolk to play golf.”

“Into Norfolk to play golf!” the Prince repeated in a tone of scornful wonder. “Did you believe a story like that, Felix? Rubbish!”

Felix smiled slightly.

“It is quite true,” he said. “Labanoff makes no mistakes, and he saw him come out of his house, take his ticket at King’s Cross, and actually leave the station.”

“Are you sure that it is not a blind?” the Prince