THE "EAGLES"

King Country Chronicle, Volume III, Issue 196, 4 October 1909, Page 3

THE "EAGLES"

'TV;->T:tcht.'»

A SENSATIONAL STORY OP LOVE AND ADVENTURE.

V.y r;-:. t :.-,- ;■ \; :T .

; ♦ '■ • !\W>. ill. r'itAfi t.n xrr T'.ir All my hold words. I spent the ---.r of the daylight in O Rial* of IMII.TJ-. My lovr for Flora had only t>--en increased by her coldness ond h arshnes*. Though I had sworn she should never marry Prince Mirski. I really sow no way by which I could prevent the match If she was In low with him and her father was l»*nt upon the arrangement.

In spite of her words I felt there must be something behind it all. Flora's remark that I had heard as I paused outside Von Orahnun's door came bark to me : "I tell yon. gentlemen, that I tlo this of my own five will. You don't understand a woman's heart."

As seven o'clock drew near I suddenIt realized the fact that besides lieins Ifuliert Oascoigue. a mnn. in love with Flora, a woman. I was also attnrhed to his Majesty's Kmltnssy at Paris, and engaged at that particular moment on business that "had for it* ofiject the preservation of |>enre Iw-tw.-en two great Powers. I must <K>etie my diplomatic business first. 1,0 v.* mint come afterwards.

I dressed with impatience oml descended to the dining-room, to find the rounfejts already seated. She i«eem»'d abnormally excited. nnd pr.-et.-d me with n warmth I found it h«r«l In reciprocale. 1 was burning with anxiety lo know if she had Miiiol.ll in g'tting my pn|iers. and though t several time* led the conversation in lhat direction, she ignored my object. At Inst, when we had rnint' lo lit" d.-sserl, I put the question point blank. "How impatient you are ! " she exclaim*, d f» (ulnnlly. "One would think you w.-r»: specially anxious to get rid of nw." t assured her that such was not the «n*e. Inn lhat my anxiety was quite natural, seeing thai my diplomatic reputation was at stake. "Yon might at least attempt to rnnt.nl your impatience in my company." she snid. t made some obvious retort, ami ngnin pressed h-r to let me know the result ot her iiii.t-ion. "We can't talk here." she said. "I.*'t u.<t go into the conservatory." As we rose n waiter came forward. iMMKiRg. and led the way. We Nelectr-d a spot behind a palmtree rarchilly secluded from any neighbouring 'tables. 1 ordered coffee and liqners. ami as we lit our cigarettes- we related into silence. I was waiting for the countess to tell nre what hail hap|>ened. She. on her part, lay bark in her rhnir. idly putting and gazing at me with a sort of renewed regard. "Well ? " I said, when the eitenro had Ix-conte irksome. "Well. I have them." "Where are they ? " I said, leaning across the table. me look nt them. I don't feel safe till they nre once more in my possession." "My dear Mr. flascoigne. like all V»»r race you are 100 impatient. I te|| you 1 have them. For the present that is enough." "I nm eternally grateful to you, counte**. but you understand my anxiety io have them once more in my breast-pocket, fine is not too safe in this city without those cred-fi-lial*."

S!-,» lnugh.nl. with a certain r.strainl in her voice. "I have thenn" nnd she produced the papers from her breast. "Hut," she add d. ns t stretched forward enjEvrly to Inf-.e them, "they ran only I»* given lo you at a price." "I don't understand." I replied, alarnteil in spite of myself. "Ah. don'l l»- in such a hurry. 1 will help you to understand. I have had great difficulty in getting these pa|»ers, and. as you say in your country, bm.iiies* is business. Well, before I give Ih-m to you I will recall to your in-i-tory c-riant facts which may. p-Thnps interest you—or not. Anyhow I will tell you them." She unfurled her fan and began fanning herself lazily. "I have a very great friend. Mr. Onscoigoe. tn whom I am under a great debt of grnlittid- "You have met him. He is a man who has done much for me in Ihe past and is prepared to do much for me in Ihe future. You have already understood that mine is a dangerous occupation. Well, this friend. I «m l»>iirtd lo conciliate. You may ask me why. but that I cannot soy. A capacity for silence and discretion are the only weapons wilh which I have to ply my employment. it suffice that I have lo conciliate him. Well, he is in love with n certain girl. Sh.>, 1 tear, does not reciprocate! hi* affection, having given her foolish little heart to soiik-Ihhlv else. But still he loves her, ami d« < *irr* above all else to marry her. Now. that Homebody else to whom this girl has given her foolish little heart ba» met this friend of mine, ami this friend of mine has Iteen n*fu!e enough to discover that this koiiuiKMly else Is Very much in love with the girl. The somebody else is a determined person, prepared to go io any length lo carry out his de*ir.-s. My friend is frightened of him. ami has come to mc and said, 'You must make n bargain.* Do you understand mc ? "

I shook my head densely, though, I understood well enough. "It suits you to be dense, but if you are anxious that 1 should be quite frank—the friend is Prince Mirski. the girl Fraulein von Grahaun. and the somebody else Is yourself."

"Still. I nm nt a loss, countess, to understand yotjr meaning." She closed her fan with a snapJ'Don'l let us fence like this. Mr. Gascoignc, it is so unnecessary. I will state the case in black and white Prince Mirski has come to me nnd said."l am in love wilh Fraulein von Grahaun. who is lietrothid to mc. I fear that Mr. Gascoigne. who is in love with Fraulein von Grahaun —n love which I have reason to l»eJleVe is reciprocated—means to" force her h> break her l>etrothnl vow. In memory of p.W fniotirs. I nsk > oti fo bargain with Mr Gas- »ir-n---Maniti!" i f a* }-i'i -an las' h-- ia;-" iiromi;." t.> £;••■• •;:- a!; •:■■_ .

y.nrryiuv. Fra->!--iu vi,n Cr.ih.fin ' ■ .-• . IV-ii..--- Mir ■: i. Mr <:.-ts. <,iet).-. ;i ninit whom I cannot r-:'n-.e. i i in-. :-i-.stand 7 Ur.'ai interest are s-.iV,.- Angry though J was. I i i tn consent to the arrangement. '.r. I thai is my bargain. Ik-fore 1 ;■!'..■ you your you must swear ' . me to give uft all thoughts of !■ tarrying Von Orahaun's daughter." t hid my irritation and disgust as well as I could. "I.et me assure you. countess that you are much mistaken : so is Prince Mirski. From Flora's lips to-day I have heard that, no far from loving me. she has given her heart entirely to Prince Mirski." "You have seen Flora to-day ? " «aid the countess I tending forward, 'agerly. "Only six hours ago." 1 said. "Flora told me I was nothing to her and that she had given her heart to Prince Mirski." 'Hie countess leaned back in her (hair and began to laugh. "So. no. Mr. Gaseoignc, that will not do. I assure you." "I give you my word of honour that what 1 state is absolutely correct." "She may have said so. Mr. Gasroigne. but out of the woman's mouth the heart rarely speaketh." "On my word of honour." I replied. "What she said left no possibility of any doubt. Iter father practically kicked me out of his house." •'Then you 'have Itrvn over to—let me see—what do you rail the name of the street ? " she said. I was not to If caught like that. This political spy whose business it was to send |n>ople to Silterin or to ilealh suddenly tilled me with an utter loi!*h?<'g. '"Before one forgets, countess, one must know." She flushed to the roots of her hair. "Well, no matter." she said in confusion ; "what Fraulein von Granatin told you. if .she did tell it you, is not the case."

I "I repeat it to you. my dear coun- ! less." I said, growing cold in spite l of my endeavours to keep my real feelings out of my voice, "the exnet words she used. You meet my statement with n tint contradiction. In support of which you bring forward no proof." "The proof is there itself." snid the counli-s.*. "Could anybody love Prince Mirski." " "Fraulein von Grahaun does." I said, stubbornly. "Well, we are continuing this conversation lo no purpose. These arc Prinre Mirski's terms, and I nm only able lo carry them mil. You must swear lo give up nil thought of Fraulein von Grahaun. or I can't give you back your pap -rs." At this all my self-control left me. "I knew you were a spy. countess, but up (o Ibis mom-nt I had given you the rredit of Itelieving that you had followed this business from compulsion, not from instinct." At this moment a French-looking waiter, with a pointed black heard returned with the colW and liqueurs and plnc.il them on the table. We were silent utilil he had withdrawn. Then the countess Hilled to me, with the lines of her mouth set hard. "Whether you sw. at* or not. you %viil never marry Frnul. in von Granatin." "And I think," 1 r-plied holly, "thai a certain organization in Paris would lie very glad to know of your real name nnd whereabouts." She turned n shade paler: "Hut you have promised, and dare not break your word." ."I s-e no reason why I should keep faith with a spy." She mastered herself with on effort. "Yijii ore talking nonsense, my dear Mr. Ga-coigne. IMore two hours are over yon will lie under close arrest, nnd when ihnt happens in Itussin people disap|tear without nn> comment ■ As for Flora and her obi fool of a father, the authorities have held ile-ir hands long enough. It is time |o strike."

"You will give me those papers," I said hotly, "or you will never " I was going to say. this spot" when suddenly the waiier who had, brought us our coffee stepped out from behind th.* palm tree wilh a sugar basin in his hand. lie passed by the countess's chair and as he did so I thought he bent down and whistle red something in Iter ear. It was done In a moment, but the effect on the count ess was electrical. She looked up at the waiter wilh horror in her eyes, tried to speak, then gave one wild shriek and fell back in her chair in a dead faint. Ilefore I could rouse myself the waiter had disappeared. 1 diil not trouble to him. Instead I went straight up to the countess where sho lay insensible, ileliiterntely took the papers from her dress, glanced at them hurriedly, put them in my breast-pocket, and strolled with assumed nonchalance out of the conservatory. My triumph over the recover;-, of my papers buoyed mc up for but a few minutes. With that discontent ihnt is part of man's nature, I had no sooner achieved one object than my thoughts wandered from that which I had gained to something which, to all appearances. T had lost The treachery and Audacity of the linwnl'ianly countess, standing out in such vivid contrast to the sweet devotion and girlish dignity of Flora von Grahaun only served to remind me of the precious prize I had that morning set out to win at all costs. I could not rest in the hotel : I must have air to breathe and room to think. With no definite purpose I rushed out into the street and walkeel and walked wherever my feet took inc. And my desire must naturally have guided my feet for I was hardly conscious pf 'he direction in which I was going till I found myself in the unsavos'ry qiiurter of the city towards which Von Grahaun had led mc the previous day.

In the Itetter quarters of the town I had noticed a look of anxious care on the faces of the jH'op.e who passed me. A company of infantry marching up to relieve guard at one of the public buildings swung along wilh that dull, monotonous tramp of leaden-hearted soldiers which tin practised ear so promptly distinguishes from the springy step of fresh, high-spirited men just changing from rest to duty. In the poorer quarters moujiks passeij and repassed each other with a sullen, soml'i'- air of dissatisfaction and d:n; : ■". «*'"!-,.-,' s •. nipa ■ Si v. As F pa.'-"i a !:•:;■■ ki;.,- of 'ha: a" a : ' :'•-■' ' ■;•:■.•■:• i • •■■■r'aard a

mo somewhat on events of which in my official po-i:i..n I ouirht to havi; kept myself informed. N'.-ws had come from the Far I'.ast of a hod reverse. The .laps were driving the Russian soldier? hark from the railway, their line.- of communication were being gradually cut off. and a deep disquieting conviction was settling itself in the minds of the ix-ople that their cause was hopeless. Such officials as T saw were angry, and apparently determined to find some harmless victims upon whom to wreck their spiteful vengence, and relievo their feelings. They hustled the loiterers about rudely and made themselves unusually officious from the sheer desire to keep themselves busy and to distract their thoughts from the humuliation of their military colleagues on the field of battle.

The people on the other hand bemoaned the loss of their friends and relatives—the young men who had gone forth in the pride and strength of youth—anil they visited the misfortunes on their country on the heads of the men in authority. In a moralizing mood I hung about the streets contrasting the scene herewith what I had witnessed in my own country in times of national anxiety. With us a temporary disaster had l>een accepted as part of the fortune of war. I happened to be in one of the poorer quarters of London when the news came from Magcrsfonlein and I well remembered how the workman, as he shared his tobacco with his mate, remarked with a hard look of determination, "We shall have to put this right, mate." Yes. with us there is a "we "' in everything. It is "our " affair, and the dock labourer, as he smoothed out his crumpled paper with his dirty hands in the dinner-hour, made it his own particular business to consider how lx?st the situation might l»e met. Here there was no "we." The responsibility, the duty, the glory, or the disgrace rested with some far-ofl and mysterious "they." The pcopk regarded themselves as the mere children of an all-powerful Father. with whom the whole secret and work of national life rested.

I used to smile at the ex-corporal of Volunteers who critized military tactics for the edification and delight of his shop mates. But I longed to find his counterpart here in this great city of human machines Never till now had I realized what a fibre of personal responsibility runs through the nation that governs itself. At home I regarded ordinary cvery-day politics with the superior air of a diplomat, and when I heard my immediate friends and retives discussing their respective chances of winning a seat in the House of Commons, I shrugged my shoulders and remarked with indifference that I supposed somebody must do these things. Out here I was becoming a positive demogague. If I allowed my thoughts to flow much longer in this channel I should be jumping on the nearest doorstep and addressing the assembled multitude on the glories of free British institutions,

CHAPTER Xni. Possibly my revolutionary tendencies were displaying themselves in my manner and looks, or perhaps 1 was moving about 100 much with the air of a man who has no direct business in the streets. 'A huge police officer cannoned against me, and I was just about to hit him, but fortunately I remembered in time that I myself was representative of law and order. When he commanded mc roughly to get about my business, therefore. I moved smartly on ; btit I soon began to ask myself, without receiving any satisfactory reply, what was my business. It was clearly not to involve myself in any more s*-cret meetings, or to aid and abet suspicious gatherings, such as that upon which I had alighted that morning in Yon Grahaun s slum dwelling.

Knowing the theological enthusiasm which the old gentleman had inherited from his Scottish ancestors. I tried at first to assure myself thai after all, it was only some new religious cult, with a harmless sort of creed —a kind of continental slumsettlement Calvinism, similar to th • movements through which some members of my own family condoned the frailties of their West-end life by occasional missions in the East-end of Ixtndon.

Hut it was impossible to deceive myself. The consternation and, indeed, the blank despair of Flora and her father when they first suspected, that I had discovered their secret were too painfully obvious. It was no international counterpart of the Church Army that Von Grahaun led, and it was no mere religious enthusiasm that prompted Flora to sacrifice herself to that monster M.ir-

And yet what if it were a political conspiracy ? It would be, is must l>e, a movement for doing good. Flora—my gentle, good-hearted, hipfhsoulcd Flora —could do nothing wrong. Any movement to which she gave her assent must be guided by the purest motives. • Political conspiracies ! Who would not be a political conspirator in a land like this? I would go to Flora and tell her that I was wrong nnd cruel in mocking her father, and making fun of his "ra|t•♦calllon.s." I was sure they were good men and true, or they would not be tolerated in her presence. It will thus be 'goon that I was rapidly becoming a convert to political principles, which I neither understood or believed, and an old Parliamentary hand to whom I haw related my experiences assure:? me there is nothing new in this, especially when a woman is concerned. Moved on by the police, I wand-T----od towards that mysterious, selfacting door, and stood hesit at inirly in front of it. To go inside uj.hidden was to court further insult ::■■, ::i the man whose i>rpy hairs proi.-..■•.-d him. But for Fiora I w,-,s- ],-..; ; . : •.-i to SufT'T an\ i hiri!*. 7 1 '-■!>..;-..-:! <:::_-rii ■ y social ambitions, (iiploin.v . ■ ?:■.-■ ir.-t----tion, resp'.-rt. of :ny f--;!r .-'-. •'. '■■,:•.-. fidence of my .-',-;. ■•rjo:--. ;■•:.'■ ; - :..;i, duty, th-- pro.-jiwt ... (■: •■.':;..■ :<.:;. were al! o!.:i--r; ; - .-i a:,'l i" ,;■ ! '■■;.■ one delirious \isi,,n, a ?id ti:a' '. ;-:■ !i the sunlit, innoi-'-ni in'--- ><i J-'lora. To 1. ■ r, nri'.'i-d. Y ._.