The Lady in the Car

“Pale to the lips, her chest rising and falling quickly, her blue eyes full of the terror of arrest and deportment to Poland she stood before me, placing her life in my hands.

“She had escaped from the ‘Museum of Riga,’ that prison the awful tortures of which had only recently been exposed in the Duma itself. She, frail looking, and beautiful had been a prisoner there.

“It wanted, I reflected, still eight days to the opening of the shooting which I was due to spend with friends in Scotland. Even if I returned by the roundabout route she suggested I should be able to get up north in time.

“And yet my duty was to remain there, for at noon on the morrow, by the Orient Express from Constantza to Ostend, a friend would pass whom I particularly wanted to meet on business for a single moment at the station. If I left with my pretty companion I should pass my friend on the Black Sea a few hours out of port. It meant either keeping the appointment I had made with my friend, or securing the girl’s safety. To perform my duty meant to consign her into the hands of the police.

“Acquaintance with political refugees of any sort in the Balkan countries is always extremely risky, for spies abound everywhere, and everybody is a suspect.

“I fear I am not very impressionable where the fair sex are concerned, but the romance and mystery of the situation whetted my appetite for the truth. Her sweet tragic face appealed to me. I had fallen in love with her.

“She interpreted my hesitation as an intention to refuse.

”‘Ah! M’sieur Martin. Do, I beg, have pity upon me! Once in your England I shall no longer fear those tortures of Riga. See!’ and drawing up her sleeve she showed me two great ugly red scars upon the white flesh scarcely yet healed. ‘Once in your England!’ she cried clasping her hands and falling at my feet, ‘I shall be free —free!’

”‘But how do you know that the police have followed you?’

”‘Mariniski, our military attaché in Sofia, is my cousin. He warned me that two agents of Secret Police arrived there yesterday morning. When I got here I received a wire from him to say they are now on their way here to Bucharest. Therefore not a moment must be lost. We can leave at three, and at ten to-morrow morning will have sailed from Constantza. They are due here at eleven-thirty.’

”‘To-night?’

”‘No, to-morrow.’

“She held my hands in hers, still upon her knees, her gaze fixed imploringly into mine. What could I do, save to render her assistance? Ah! yes, she was delightfully charming, her face perfect in its beauty, her hands soft and caressing, her voice musical and silvery.

“I gave her my reply, and in an instant she sprang to her feet, kissing my hands again and again.

“I sent the car back to Vienna, and early that morning we entered the train of dusty wagons-lits which had been three days on its journey from Ostend to the Orient, and next morning in the bright sunshine, found ourselves on the clean deck of the mail steamer for Constantinople.

“There were not more than twenty passengers, and together with my dainty little companion, I spent a happy day in the bright sunshine, as we steamed down the Black Sea, a twelve-hour run. Dinner was at half-past five, and afterwards, in the evening twilight, as we passed the Turkish forts at the beautiful entrance to the Bosphorus, we sat together in a cosy corner on deck, and I held her small, soft hand.

“She had, I admit, completely enchanted me.

“She seemed to have suddenly become greatly interested in me, for she inquired my profession, and the reason I visited the East, to which I gave evasive, if not rather misleading replies, for I led her to believe that I was the representative of a firm of London railway contractors, and was in Sofia taking orders for steel rails.

“It is not always judicious to tell people one’s real profession.

“When we reached the quay at Constantinople, and I had handed over my baggage to the dragoman of the Pera Palace Hotel, my pretty companion said in French:

”‘I lived here for quite a long time, you know, so I shall go and stay with friends out at Sarmaschik. I will call at your hotel at, say, eleven to-morrow morning. By that time you will have ascertained what is the next steamer to Naples.’

“And so, in the dirty ill-lit custom-house at Galata, with its mud, its be-fezzed officials and slinking dogs, we parted, she entering a cab and driving away.

“Next morning she kept her appointment and was, I saw, exceedingly well-dressed.

“I told her when we met in the big vestibule of the hotel, that there was a steamer leaving for Marseilles at four that afternoon, and suggested that route as preferable to Naples.

”‘I think we will delay our departure until to-morrow,’ she said. ‘My friends have a little family gathering to-night, and ask me to say that they would be delighted to meet you. They are not at all bigoted, and you will find them very hospitable.’

“I bowed and accepted the invitation.

”‘You will not find the house alone, as Constantinople is so puzzling,’ she said. ‘I will send their kavass for you at eight o’clock.’

“And a few moments later she drove away in the smart carriage that had brought her.

“That day I idled about the Sultan’s capital, looked in at St. Sophia, paused and watched the phantasmagoria of life on the Galata Bridge, and strolled in the Grand Rue at Pera, merely killing time. Case-hardened bachelor that I am, my mind was now filled with that sweet-faced, beautiful woman of my dreams who had been so cruelly tortured in that abominable prison at Riga, and whom I was aiding to the safe refuge of England’s shores.

“Once, while turning a corner at the end of the Grand Rue, the busy shopping centre of the Turkish capital, a mysterious incident occurred. Among the many figures in frock-coats and fezes my eye caught one which caused me to start. It struck me curiously as that of my sallow-faced friend, Mehmed Zekki, of Sofia. Yet in a crowd of Turks all dressed alike, one is rather difficult to distinguish from another, so I quickly dismissed the suspicion that we had been followed.

“I had already dined at the hotel and was sitting in the Turkish smoking-room, when there arrived a big Montenegrin kavass, in gorgeous scarlet and gold, and wearing an arsenal of weapons in his belt, as is their mode.

”‘Monsieur Martin?’ he inquired. ‘Mademoiselle Olga. She send me for you. I take you to ze house.’

“So I rose, slipped on my overcoat, and followed him out to the brougham, upon the box of which, beside the driver, sat a big black eunuch. The carriage had evidently been to fetch some ladies before calling for me.

“The kavass seated himself at my side, and we drove up and down many dark, ill-lit streets, where the scavenger dogs were howling, until we suddenly came out in view of the Bosphorus, that lay fairy-like beneath the full Eastern moon.

“Nicholas, the kavass, was from Cettinje, he told me, and when we began to talk, I discovered that his brother Mirko had been my servant on a journey through Albania two years before.

”‘What! Gospodin!’ cried the big mountaineer, grasping my hand and wringing it warmly. ‘Are you really the Gospodin Martin? I was in Cettinje last summer, and my dear old father spoke of you! I have to thank you. It was you who brought the English doctor to him and saved his life. Fancy that we should meet here, and to-night!’

”‘Why to-night?’

“The big fellow was silent. His manner had entirely changed.

“Suddenly he said: ‘Gospodin, you are going to the house of Mehmed Zekki and – ’

”‘Zekki!’ I gasped. ‘Then I was not mistaken when I thought I saw him. He had followed us.’

”‘Ah! Gospodin! Have a care of yourself! Take this, in case – in case you may require it,’ he said, and pulling from his sash one of his loaded revolvers, he handed it to me.

”‘But you said that mademoiselle had sent you for me?’ I remarked surprised.

”‘I was told to say that, Gospodin. I know nothing of mademoiselle.’

”‘Mademoiselle Olga Steinkoff. Have you never heard of her?’ I demanded.

”‘Never.’

”‘Then I will go back to the hotel.’

”‘No, Gospodin. Do not show fear. It would be fatal. Enter and defy the man who is evidently your enemy. Touch neither food nor drink there. Then, if you are threatened, utter the words, Shunam-al-zulah– recollect them. Show no fear, Gospodin – and you will escape.’

“At that moment the carriage turned into a large garden, which surrounded a fine house – almost a palace – the house wherein my enemy was lying in wait.

“Entering a beautiful winter-garden full of flowers, a servant in long blue coat and fez, conducted me through a large apartment, decorated in white and gold, into a smaller room, Oriental in decoration and design, an apartment hung with beautiful gold embroideries, and where the soft cushions of the divans were of pale-blue silk and gold brocade.

“Two middle-aged Turks were squatting smoking, and as I was shown in, scowled at me curiously, saluted, and in French asked me to be seated.