The Intriguers

“One country is as good to me as another, Baron, so long as my chance of a career is equal.”

“Good!” The financier looked at his watch. “It is now half-past eleven, and I have a deal to do between now and one o’clock. Can you see me again at one?”

“My time is at your disposal, sir. I will return at one.”

“By that time my ideas will have developed, and I may be able to put before you a definite proposition,” said Salmoros. “I have an unpretentious little lunch served here every day when I have no outside engagements. You will honour me by partaking of it. I cannot speak very highly of the cuisine; it is quite simple, but I shall be able to give you a very decent bottle of wine.”

“A thousand thanks, Baron.” Nello smiled inwardly at his host’s apologies for the simplicity of the meal. This rich man did not know, and perhaps it was better he should not know, the depths of the poverty to which his guest had descended, how often he had gone to bed half famished.

At the appointed hour he returned. The same young man who had previously received him showed him into a small room, no less well furnished than the other.

A round dining-table was laid for two. As he had expected, it was to be a tête-à-tête meal. He had just time to notice the beautiful appointments of the table, the snowy napery, the rare old silver, the exquisite glass, when Salmoros entered. A moment later the meal was served, simple in its elements, but perfectly cooked.

The wine served during the few courses was champagne. The Baron had a couple of glasses at both lunch and dinner; he believed in its stimulating properties.

Then a bottle of claret of the finest vintage was put on the table, and the financier produced some perfect cigars. There was no doubt that Baron Andreas Salmoros had a great respect for his creature comforts. A man of the profoundest intellect, he was also an artist and an epicure.

“Now, my young friend,” he said as he puffed at his excellent cigar with every appearance of enjoying to the full its flavour and perfume. “We will talk. Help yourself to that claret; I can recommend it.”

Nello did as he was requested. His head was swimming a little from the unaccustomed champagne, but he had no desire to forfeit the Baron’s good graces by proclaiming himself a weakling. If this was how people in the great world lived, he must pretend to be used to it.

He waited respectfully for the great man to unfold the plan that would perhaps change his whole life and open out to him a new world. Of course he was shrewd enough to guess that whatever was proposed would be as much in the Baron’s interests as his own.

But he did not feel resentful over this. Philanthropists pure and simple are not generally found amid such palatial surroundings. Poor old Papa Péron had been one without doubt, and he had flung his money about right and left; wrecked his life for a sentimental attachment and drawn his last breath in a mean lodging. Emphatically Baron Salmoros was not of the same breed. He seemed kindly, and there was often a benevolent gleam in those clear, shrewd eyes. But for every ounce of help he gave, he would stipulate for a handsome return.

“I think, Corsini, we can help each other very considerably. I believe it is in my power to advance you in two ways; in the more permanent direction that my dear old friend, Jean Villefort, suggests, and also in the artistic way. I take it, the latter is really nearer to your heart. Even if your success has not been stupendous, you have set your first footstep on the ladder of fame.”

“I should be very sorry if I found it an absolute necessity to give up my musical career altogether, Baron.”

Salmoros nodded his massive snow-white head. “In that you have my fullest sympathy. I told you a short time ago what I would give to possess your executive talent. Well, I have been thinking considerably since you left, and I believe I can solve the difficulty.”

Nello followed him with the closest attention. To a certain extent he had found a fairy godfather in Papa Péron, for from the chance meeting on that snowy winter’s night had flowed his present success, his introduction to Gay, through Gay his meeting with Paul Degraux. Was he about to find a more powerful and influential one in this world-renowned financier?

“Suppose I sent you on a partly diplomatic mission to Russia, and at the same time insured you certain introductions which would help you greatly in your musical career – What would you say to that? Does the suggestion impress you?”

The young man could hardly believe his ears. Again his thoughts went back to the days when he had played in the streets for a few miserable coppers. And to-day he was sitting, an honoured guest, at the table of one of the greatest financiers in the world. He had to assure himself that he was not dreaming.

“I cannot think of anything more delightful,” was the fervent answer.

The Baron proceeded. “I want a very private and confidential letter – it will, of course, be written in cipher – carried to Lord Ickfold, the British Ambassador at Saint Petersburg.”

Nello bowed. This would surely not be a very difficult task.

“You may wonder why I should employ you on this mission. I could get it through a Foreign Office Messenger, as a matter of course, but he would be suspected, and my letter might be abstracted. They have some very clever people on the other side. You follow me?”

Nello assured him that he did. He was not at all sure that he did follow the windings of this subtle intelligence. But it would never do to let the Baron suspect that.

“Now, nobody will suspect you. It is well known that I am a rather generous patron of the arts, that I have befriended many a struggling genius; helped him upwards in his career. Poor old Jean Villefort has sent you to me, soliciting my influence. I have numerous friends in Russia. You consult me. I come to the conclusion that a short absence from England will whet the appreciation of those who have already recognised you as an artist of considerable ability.”

Nello nodded his handsome head. Salmoros was now getting on ground where he could easily follow him.

“I suggest that, with my introduction, you can make a greater and quicker success than here – you can afterwards come back with a foreign cachet. At the same time you carry my letter, and put yourself at the disposition of Lord Ickfold and any friends he may introduce you to, on the diplomatic side.”

Yes, Corsini understood perfectly now. He said as much.

“I take it that, up to the present, you have not made a vast number of acquaintances. Anyway, the diplomatic part must be kept a strict secret between us, until I give you leave to speak of it. Perhaps I may never give you leave; anyway, to those few friends you have, give it out that you have seen me, that I have interested myself in your career and have advised you to go to Russia, where I believe my introductions will insure you an immediate success.”

“I understand perfectly, Baron. When do you wish me to start?”

“As soon as possible; the matter is urgent. But before we settle that, let me recommend you to pay a casual visit to Paul Degraux and tell him what I have told you to say. You need mention nothing about poor old Jean; he would not be interested in it, if you told him the story. Just mention that you were presented, which is the truth, by Lady Glendover; that you achieved the rest yourself.”

“I will pay a casual visit to Degraux to-morrow.”

“Right,” said the Baron, pleased to find his latest pupil was so quick. “Degraux is in with all the musical people, and what you tell him to-day will be whispered to a hundred persons in the course of the next few days. And having assisted at your début, he will be prepared to claim a considerable amount of interest in your success. Now, when can you go? I have told you the matter is urgent. What engagements have you got on?”

“Only two, Baron. One to-night, at Leicester House, the other three nights hence.”

“We can say, then, that you will be ready to leave England on the Monday of next week?” queried Salmoros.

“I shall be ready,” answered Nello quickly. Then he waited. The financier would surely say something about ways and means. He had saved a certain sum of money in the short time that he had been successful, but that modest store would not support the expenses of a Russian campaign.

But of course Salmoros was not a man likely to overlook such an important point as this.

“One does not travel for nothing. And I may tell you that in this enterprise, on which you are embarking at my instigation, there will be no lack of the sinews of war. I shall give you a considerable amount of money to start with. When you arrive in Russia, you will be well provided with funds. I can assure you that you will not regret having temporarily relinquished your artistic career here. Lunch with me again here on Friday of this week. I will have everything ready cut-and-dried for you.”

The great man looked at his watch. “Fortunately, not a very busy day. I am glad we have had plenty of time to talk. But I will give you more time on Friday.”

Nello perceived that he was dismissed. This man had many irons in the fire; he could not stay too long in warming one. Still, there was something he must say before he left; something very important.

“Pardon me, Baron, if I intrude upon a few more seconds of your valuable time. You know nothing of my domestic circumstances. I have neither wife nor sweetheart, but I have a young sister, to whom I am very tenderly attached. I may take her with me on this journey?”

Over Salmoros’s usually kind face there crept a slight frown. He had not thought of this, and yet a young man was bound to have an entanglement of some sort. Fortunate that it was not a wife, still more fortunate that it was not a sweetheart. He knew the artistic temperaments well. One smile of a woman would outweigh much gold.

Then the frown died away and the benevolent smile came back. He must reason with this young man calmly.

“I take it you are very devoted to each other?”

Nello answered fervently. “We think with one brain, we feel with one heart, sir. It will cut her to the quick for me to leave her behind.”

The Baron spoke musingly. Years ago he had had his love affairs like other men; but women had never entered into his scheme of things as they had in the case of his old friend Jean. They were meant for man’s leisure, for his playtime; they could not be woven into the serious business of life.

“That is all very well, Corsini, but hearts are not so easily broken by a little absence. One day you will leave her for a wife, one day she will leave you for a husband. I trust she will be sensible. You cannot go on this expedition hampered by a woman, whatever her relationship. You will come back to her soon.”

“How soon do you think, sir?” questioned Nello eagerly.

“Say, in two or three months.” The Baron’s tone was a little hesitating. He knew in his own mind that there was a darker side to the picture, that there might be an altogether different ending to the journey. But he was not going to frighten the young man with that, or he might cry off at the last minute.

Nello persisted; his love for his self-sacrificing little sister was very real, very deep.