Parlous Times: A Novel of Modern Diplomacy

"You've come too late," replied the Secretary, recovering himself. "You've come too late. The treaty will go through."

Darcy growled an oath as the measure of the Secretary's knowledge became known to him.

"I know who's put you on to it," he cried. "It's that cursed Irish – !"

"Go!" cried Stanley, in a burst of wrath at this insult to a woman. "Go, before I knock you down, and as you value your safety, meet me here at eleven to-morrow morning. You've held the whip hand long enough. It's my turn now."

CHAPTER XXXV

THE SHORT WAY OUT

"I suppose it's hardly necessary to ask if you found Darcy's letter?" said Kent-Lauriston to the Secretary, as they were returning to the house about an hour later from a trip to the telegraph office, whither Stanley had gone to send a long message in cipher to his Chief.

"Oh, yes," he said. "I have it in my possession."

"Does it give you all the information you required?"

"As a bit of evidence it's overwhelmingly complete – but it gives me some additional information which is not so pleasant," replied the Secretary, who had needed no second glance at the document to assure himself that it was Mr. Riddle's letter and had been once before in his possession.

"I've no desire to pry into your affairs, either private or diplomatic, my dear fellow; but of course I'm able to infer a good deal, and if you felt inclined to assure me, that this made you master of the situation, and placed Darcy completely in your power, it would make me feel very much easier."

"Then you may be quite easy," returned the Secretary. "I hold all the trumps. I could have the Colonel arrested to-night, if I chose, and my evidence is of such a nature that it will practically banish him from his country and from mine."

"That's very satisfactory, but let me caution you to go slow. Darcy is a man of many expedients. I should keep something in reserve, if I were able."

"My instructions insist on practically that course of action."

"I'm very glad to hear it – as you grow older, you'll discover that the shrewdest policy in the game of life, as in the game of whist, is always to keep in hand a card of re-entry. And you may take my word for it, that Darcy is the pivot on which all these little conspiracies revolve. Hold him, and you can dictate terms to both Kingsland and Miss Fitzgerald. By the way, have you succeeded in receiving your congé yet?"

"I haven't yet received a definite answer."

"Answer! – haven't you made it clear to her what that answer is to be?"

"I hope so. In fact, I'm sure she must understand."

"Then if she doesn't refuse you, you'll be quite justified in refusing her."

"I can't be too hard on a woman, Kent-Lauriston."

"But you cannot marry her."

"Not if my suspicions are true, and that my conference with the Colonel to-morrow will prove. Now, don't say any more about it, for I want to go to bed, and try not to think."

Stanley slept little that night, and the arrival of an early telegram from his Minister was a welcome relief. It contained only a brief word of praise, and the information that John, the messenger, would arrive by the ten o'clock train with a letter of instructions, pending the receipt of which he was to take no action. This necessitated an early breakfast, as the station was some distance away. Before leaving, however, he sealed up the precious document he had found in the secret chamber, and entrusted it to his friend's care; begging him, should he not return, through any foul play of the Colonel's, to see it safely delivered to his Chief in London.

As he drove to the train he had plenty to occupy his thoughts. The letter had been more damaging to the cause of the plotters than he could have hoped. There was sufficient evidence to make out a complete case, and only the intended forbearance of the government could shield the Colonel from well-merited disgrace and condign punishment. In this forbearance Stanley saw, so to speak, his card of re-entry: but he did not see that fate was going to force him to play it in the first round of the game. It was true he was here to bring Darcy to justice for crimes committed against the State, but he must not be judged too harshly for desiring to take advantage of his position to force the Colonel to do justice in quarters not political. He had had great provocation, and the man could be relied on to keep his word only when the penalty for breaking it was actual rather than moral.

Filled with these thoughts and impulses, he drew up for a moment on his way to the station at Madame Darcy's cottage, but before he could get down from the high dog-cart she came running out to meet him.

"You have good news," she cried, "I can see it in your face."

"Yes," he said. "I got down, or rather fell down, inside the old tower last night, and I have the precious packet in my possession."

"Ah," she said. "I do not know whether I should be glad or sorry. If it contains what I suspect, it must mean so much to me in many ways."

"It is just for that reason that I stopped to see you," he replied. "I wanted to set your mind at rest."

"Then it does not contain incriminating evidence?" she asked.

"On the contrary, it puts everyone connected with the plot completely in my power."

"But then – " she began.

"But then," he continued, taking up her words, "I hope to be able to save your husband from the fruits of his folly."

"But is that possible?"

"I hope so. I shall tell better after I have seen him. We are to have an interview this morning, and all I can say now is, that you must trust implicitly in me and believe that everything will come out all right in the end."

"I am so selfish that your words make me very happy," said Madame Darcy, "when my heart should be filled with sorrow at the troubles of my friend. This discovery must be a sad blow to you."

"How do you mean?" he said.

"Why, in regard to Miss Fitzgerald."

The Secretary bit his lip.

"It seems impossible," he said tersely, "for us to have a conversation without introducing her name. Surely by this time you must know – "

"I only know what you have told me," she replied.

The Secretary started to say something and then thought better of it, and contented himself by remarking: —

"My eyes have been opened a good deal in the last few days, Inez."

She reached up and took his hand in hers.

"My friend," she said, "I understand."

For a moment there was silence between them, and then pulling himself together, he explained that he was on his way to an appointment. So he left her, smiling at him through her tears, for in these few moments Inez De Costa had found great sorrow and great joy.

The station, a small rustic affair, at which few trains stopped, seemed at first glance to be bare of passengers, and on accosting a porter, the Secretary was informed that he had yet nearly fifteen minutes to wait.

"She's in a siding in the next station now, sir, waiting for the London express to pass; it goes through here in about five minutes, and as soon as the line's clear she'll be along."

Stanley thanked him for his information, and, after spending a minute or two with the station-master, negotiating for a match, he lighted a cigarette and emerged on the little platform. To his surprise he found it tenanted by a solitary figure, and that none other than Mr. Arthur Riddle. If he had any luggage it must have been in the luggage-room, for he was without sign of impedimenta, excepting a stout stick. He wore a long, black travelling cloak, and his white, drawn face and the dark circles under his eyes gave evidence of either a sleepless night or great mental anxiety, perhaps of both. He held in his mouth an unlighted cigar, which he was nervously chewing to pieces. Both men became aware of each other's presence at the same instant; both unconsciously hesitated to advance, and then both came forward. Stanley was the first to speak.

"I wasn't aware that you were leaving, Mr. Riddle."