The Powers and Maxine | Page 7

off--if you agreed to go--to-night. As it is, the
matter will have to rest till to-morrow morning. It's too late for you to
catch the midnight boat across the Channel."
"Across the Channel?" echoed Ivor. "You want me to go to France?"
"Yes."
"One could always get across somehow," said Ivor, thoughtfully, "if
there were a great hurry."
"There is--the greatest. But in this case, the more haste, the less speed.

That is, if you were to rush off, order a special train, and charter a tug
or motor boat at Dover, as I suppose you mean, my object would
probably be defeated. I came to you because those who are watching
this business wouldn't be likely to guess I had given you a hand in it.
All that you do, however, must be done quietly, with no fuss, no sign of
anything unusual going on. It was natural I should come to a ball given
by my wife's sister, whose husband is my cousin. No one knows of this
interview of ours: I believe I may make my mind easy on that score, at
least. And it is equally natural that you should start on business or
pleasure of your own, for Paris to-morrow morning; also that you
should meet Mademoiselle de Renzie there."
"Mademoiselle de Renzie!" exclaimed Ivor, off his guard for an instant,
and showing plainly that he was taken aback.
"Isn't she a friend of yours?" asked the Foreign Secretary rather sharply.
Though I couldn't see him, I knew exactly how he would be looking at
Ivor, his keen grey eyes narrowed, his clean-shaven lips drawn in, the
long, well-shaped hand, of which he is said to be vain, toying with the
pale Malmaison pink he always wears in his buttonhole.
"Yes, she is a friend of mine," Ivor answered. "But--"
"A 'but' already! Perhaps I'd better tell you that the mission has to do
with Mademoiselle de Renzie, and, directly, with no one else. She has
acted as my agent in Paris."
"Indeed! I didn't dream that she dabbled in politics."
"And you should not dream it from any word of mine, Mr. Dundas, if it
weren't necessary to be entirely open with you, if you are to help me in
this matter. But before we go any further, I must know whether
Mademoiselle de Renzie's connection with this business will for any
reason keep you out of it."
"Not if--you need my help," said Ivor, with an effort. "And I beg you
won't suppose that my hesitation has anything to do with Miss de
Renzie herself. I have for her the greatest respect and admiration."

"We all have," returned the Foreign Secretary, "especially those who
know her best. Among her many virtues, she's one of the few women
who can keep a secret--her own and others. She is a magnificent
actress--on the stage and off. And now I have your promise to help me,
I must tell you it's to help her as well: therefore I owe you the whole
truth, or you will be handicapped. For several years Mademoiselle de
Renzie has done good service--secret service, you must understand--for
Great Britain."
"By Jove! Maxine a political spy!" Ivor broke out impulsively.
"That's rather a hard name, isn't it? There are better ones. And she's no
traitor to her country, because, as you perhaps know, she's Polish by
birth. I can assure you we've much for which to thank her cleverness
and tact--and beauty. For our sakes I'm sorry that she's serving our
interests professionally for the last time. For her own sake, I ought to
rejoice, as she's engaged to be married. And if you can save her from
coming to grief over this very ticklish business, she'll probably live
happily ever after. Did you know of her engagement?"
"No," replied Ivor. "I saw Miss de Renzie often when she was acting in
London a year ago; but after she went to Paris--of course, she's very
busy and has crowds of friends; and I've only crossed once or twice
since, on hurried visits; so we haven't met, or written to each other."
("Very good reason," I thought bitterly, behind my sofa. "You've been
busy, too--falling in love with Diana Forrest.")
"It hasn't been announced yet, but I thought as an old friend you might
have been told. I believe Mademoiselle wants to surprise everybody
when the right time comes--if the poor girl isn't ruined irretrievably in
this affair of ours."
"Is there really serious danger of that?" "The most serious. If you can't
save her, not only will the Entente Cordiale be shaken to its
foundations (and I say nothing of my own reputation, which is at stake),
but her future happiness will be broken in the crash, and--she says--she
will not live to suffer