The Powers and Maxine | Page 9

there--one that a Rajah had ordered to
be made for him, but died before it was finished. Lady Mountstuart
always has one new fad every six months at least, and her latest is to
drive a motor car herself. Lord Robert is a great expert--can make a
motor, I believe, or take it to pieces and put it together again; and he'd
been insisting for days that she would be able to drive this Rajah car.
She'd promised, that if not too tired she'd cross to Paris the day after the
ball, taking the afternoon train, via Boulogne, as she wouldn't be equal
to an early start. Now, I thought, how splendid it would be if she should
see Maxine at the hotel with Ivor!
The Foreign Secretary was advising Ivor to wire the Élysèe Palace for
rooms without any delay, as there must be no hitch about his meeting
Maxine, once it was arranged for her to go there. "Any
misunderstanding would be fatal," he went on, as solemnly as if the
safety of Maxine's head depended upon Ivor's trip. "I only wish I could
have got you off to-night; and in that case you might have gone to her
own house, early in the morning. She is in a frightful state of mind,
poor girl. But it was only to-day that the contents of the packet reached
me, and was shown to the Prime Minister. Then, it was just before I
hurried round here to see you that I received a cypher telegram from
her, warning me that Count Godensky--of whom you've probably
heard--an attaché of the Russian embassy in Paris, somehow has come
to suspect a--er--a game in high politics which she and I have been
playing; her last, according to present intentions, as I told you. I have
an idea that this man, who's well known in Paris society, proposed to
Mademoiselle de Renzie, refused to take no for an answer, and bored
her until she perhaps was goaded into giving him a severe snub.
Godensky is a vain man, and wouldn't forgive a snub, especially if it
had got talked about. He'd be a bad enemy: and Mademoiselle seems to
think that he is a very bitter and determined enemy. Apparently she
doesn't know how much he has found out, or whether he has actually

found out anything at all, or merely guesses, and 'bluffs.' But one thing
is unfortunately certain, I believe. Every boat and every train between
London and Paris will be watched more closely than usual for the next
day or two. Any known or suspected agent wouldn't get through
unchallenged. But I can see no reason why you should not."
"Nor I," answered Ivor, laughing a little. "I think I could make some
trouble for anyone who tried to stop me."
"Caution above all! Remember you're in training for a diplomatic
career, what? If you should lose the packet I'm going to give you, I
prophesy that in twenty-four hours the world would be empty of
Maxine de Renzie: for the circumstances surrounding her in this
transaction are peculiar, the most peculiar I've ever been entangled in,
perhaps, in rather a varied experience; and they intimately concern her
fiancé, the Vicomte Raoul du Laurier--"
"Raoul du Laurier!" exclaimed Ivor. "So she's engaged to marry him!"
"Yes. Do you know him?"
"I have friends who do. He's in the French Foreign Office, though they
say he's more at home in the hunting field, or writing plays--"
"Which don't get produced. Quite so. But they will get produced some
day, for I believe he's an extremely clever fellow in his way--in
everything except the diplomatic 'trade' which his father would have
him take up, and got him into, through Heaven knows what influence.
No; Du Laurier's no fool, and is said to be a fine sportsman, as well as
almost absurdly good-looking. Mademoiselle Maxine has plenty of
excuse for her infatuation--for I assure you it's nothing less. She'd jump
into the fire for this young man, and grill with a Joan of Arc smile on
her face."
This would have been pleasant hearing for Ivor, if he'd ever been really
in love with Maxine; but I was obliged to admit to myself that he hadn't,
for he didn't seem to care in the least. On the contrary, he grew a little
more cheerful.

"I can see that du Laurier's being in the French Foreign Office might
make it rather awkward for Miss de Renzie if she--if she's been rather
too helpful to us," he said.
"Exactly. And thereby hangs a tale--a sensational and even romantic
tale almost complicated enough for the plot of a novel. When you meet
Mademoiselle to-morrow afternoon or evening, if she cares to take you
into her confidence, in reward for