The Great Secret
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E. Phillips Oppenheim >> The Great Secret
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"Certainly," she answered.
"It is rather a delicate matter to allude to," I said; "but your friend,
Mr. de Valentin, seemed to find your invitation to me a matter for
personal disapproval. I hope that I have not unwillingly been the cause
of any unpleasantness?"
Mrs. Van Reinberg was a little embarrassed. She hesitated, and dropped
her voice a little in answering me.
"Since you have mentioned it, Mr. Courage," she said, "I will treat you
confidentially. Mr. de Valentin has shown a desire to become an admirer
of my stepdaughter. For several reasons, I find it necessary to
discourage his advances. In fact, between ourselves, Mr. de Valentin,
although he is a person for whom I have a great respect and esteem, would
be an altogether impossible suitor for Adele. I am sure he will realize
that directly he thinks the matter over seriously; but you see he is a
person who has been very much spoilt, and he annoyed me to-night very
much. I do not care to have my invitations criticised by my other guests,
whoever they may be. Now you understand the position, Mr. Courage."
"Perfectly," I answered. "I am exceedingly obliged to you for being so
frank with me."
"And we shall expect you at Lenox?"
"Without fail!" I answered confidently.
She passed down the stairs, humming a tune to herself, followed a few
steps behind by her maid. Her wonderfully arranged, fair hair was ablaze
with diamonds, her gown was more suitable to a London drawing-room than
the deck of a steamer. And yet she seemed neither over-jewelled nor
over-dressed. She had all the marvellous "aplomb" of her countrywomen,
who can transgress all laws of fashion or taste, and through sheer
self-confidence remain correct.
I felt a touch upon my shoulder and turned around. It was Mr. de Valentin
who stood there.
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Courage," he said, "but if you have nothing
particular to do for a few minutes, will you smoke a cigarette with me?"
"With pleasure!" I answered. "I was just going into the smoke-room."
He stalked solemnly ahead, and I followed him along the corridor.
CHAPTER XXIII
THE PRETENDER
Mr. de Valentin led the way to a secluded corner of the smoke-room, and
laid a well-filled cigarette case upon the table. He beckoned to the
steward.
"You will take something?" he asked.
I ordered a whisky and soda and lit a cigarette. I had tasted nothing
like them since I had left England. Mr. de Valentin leaned across the
table towards me.
"Mr. Courage," he said, "I am going to ask you to accept a confidence
from me. You are an English gentleman, and although I have not the honor
to be myself an Englishman, my associations with your country have always
been very close, and I am well aware that a special significance attaches
itself to that term."
He paused and looked across at me somewhat anxiously. His speech was slow
but very distinct. He had little accent, but I had known quite well that
he was not an Englishman.
"I shall be very glad to hear anything that you have to say, Mr. de
Valentin," I answered.
He beat with his forefinger upon the table for a few moments absently.
I found myself studying him critically. His appearance was without doubt
distinguished. His sallow face, his pointed black beard, his high,
well-shaped nose, and almost brilliant eyes gave him the appearance of a
Spaniard; but the scrupulous exactness of his plain dinner clothes, his
well-manicured nails, and the ring upon his little finger, with its
wonderful green stone, were all suggestive of the French aristocrat. His
eyebrows were knit just now, as though with thought. Presently he looked
up from the table and continued:
"If you will permit me," he said, "I should like to introduce myself. My
name is not Mr. de Valentin. I am Victor Louis, Comte de Valentin,
Marquis de St. Auteuil, Duc de Bordera and Escault, Prince of Normandy."
I nodded gravely.
"And according to some," I remarked in a low tone, "King of France!"
He looked at me in keen surprise. He was evidently taken aback.
"You knew me?" he exclaimed.
"I felt very sure," I answered, "that you were the person whom you have
declared yourself to be. I have seen you twice in Paris, and you must
remember that this is an age of illustrated papers and journalistic
enterprise."
"You have not mentioned your recognition of me?" he asked quickly.
"Certainly not," I answered. "It was not my affair, and in your position
I can conceive that there may be many reasons for your desiring to travel
incognito."
He smiled a little wearily.
"Yet it would tax your ingenuity, I imagine," he continued, "to account
for my travelling in company with Mrs. Van Reinberg and her daughters."
"It is not my affair," I answered. "We Englishmen are supposed to have
learnt the secret of minding our own business."
"You Englishmen, certainly," he answered, "but not always your servants."
I looked at him a little puzzled. His words had seemed to possess some
special significance.
"You will not, I am sure, take offence at what I am about to say, Mr.
Courage," he continued; "but may I ask if you have confidence in the
manservant who is now travelling with you?"
It was a shock, but I fancy that I remained unmoved.
"You mean my man Peters?" I inquired. "I can guarantee his honesty
certainly."
"Can you also guarantee," Mr. de Valentin asked me, "that he is simply
what he professes to be--a valet, and not, for instance, a spy?"
"My dear sir," I protested, "we scarcely know the meaning of that word in
England. To say the least of it, such a suggestion would be wildly
improbable."
He sighed.
"In France," he said, "one looks for spies everywhere. I myself have
suffered painfully on more than one occasion from espionage. One grows
suspicious, and, in this instance, I have grounds for my suspicions."
"May I know what they are?" I asked.
"I was about to tell you," Mr. de Valentin answered. "I have with me in
my cabin certain papers, which are of great importance to me. I had
occasion to look them through last night, and although none were missing,
yet there was every indication of their having been tampered with. I
questioned my servant, who is a very faithful fellow, and I found that
the only person with whom he had made friends, and who had entered my
cabin, was your man, Peters I think you called him."
Mr. de Valentin was watching me closely, and the test was a severe one. I
was annoyed with Guest for having kept me in ignorance of what he had
done.
"I do not see how your private papers could have been of the slightest
use to Peters," I said; "but if you like to come down to my state-room
you can question him yourself."
"That," he answered, "I will leave to you. I take it then that you have
no suspicion that your servant is any other than he professes to be?"
"I am perfectly convinced that he is not," I declared.
Mr. de Valentin bowed.
"For the moment," he said, "we will quit the subject. I have another
matter, equally delicate, which I should like to discuss with you."
"I am quite at your service," I assured him.
"You have a saying in English," he continued, "which, if I remember it
rightly, says that necessity makes strange bedfellows. I myself am going
into a strange country upon a strange errand. I do not consider myself a
person of hyper-exclusive tastes, but I must confess that I do not find
myself in sympathy with the country-people and friends of Mrs. Van
Reinberg!"
I shrugged my shoulders.
"Then why go amongst them?" I asked. "You are surely at liberty to do as
you choose!"
Mr. de Valentin took up his case and chose another cigarette.
"In this instance," he said coldly, "I am not entirely my own master.
There were powerful reasons why I should have taken this voyage to
America, and there are reasons why I should have done so with Mrs. Van
Reinberg. Which brings me, by the bye, to the second matter concerning
which I wished to speak to you."
I accepted another of Mr. de Valentin's excellent cigarettes, and
composed myself once more to listen.
"I am going to Lenox," he continued, "to meet there a few American
friends, with whom I have certain affairs of importance to discuss. You,
also, have been invited to Lenox. My request is that you defer your visit
there until after my departure."
I raised my eyebrows at this. It seemed to me that Mr. de Valentin was
going a little too far.
"May I inquire," I asked politely, "in what respect you find my presence
there undesirable? We are not bound, I presume, to come much into contact
with one another."
"You misunderstand me," Mr. de Valentin declared. "It is not a personal
matter at all. My visit to Lenox has been arranged solely to discuss a
certain matter with certain people. The presence of those who are not
interested in it would be an embarrassment to all of us. Further, to
recur to a matter which we have already spoken of, I cannot divest myself
of certain suspicions concerning your servant."
I considered my reply for a moment or two.
"As regards the latter," I said after a pause, "I can not take you
seriously. Besides, it is very unlikely that my servant would accompany
me to Lenox. If my presence there would be an embarrassment, I really do
not see why Mrs. Van Reinberg asked me."
"She did so thoughtlessly," Mr. de Valentin answered. "Her reasons were
tolerably clear to me, perhaps to you. With regard to them, I have
nothing to say, except that your visit could be paid just as well, say in
a fortnight after we land."
"Unfortunately," I answered, "that would not suit me. To be frank with
you, Miss Van Hoyt would have left."
"If I can arrange," Mr. de Valentin continued, with some eagerness, "that
she should not have left!"
I hesitated for a moment.
"Mr. de Valentin," I said, "I cannot conceive what cause for
embarrassment could arise from my presence in Lenox at the same time as
yourself. I do not ask you to tell me your secrets; but, in the absence
of some more valid reason for staying away, I shall certainly not break
my present engagement."
There was a silence between us for several moments. Mr. de Valentin was
fingering his cigarette case nervously.
"I am perhaps asking too much of a stranger, Mr. Courage," he said. "The
matter is of the deepest importance to me, or I would not have troubled
you. Supposing Miss Van Hoyt should herself fix the date of your visit,
and engage to be there?"
"That," I answered, "would, of course, be sufficient for me."
Mr. de Valentin rose from his seat.
"We will leave it like that then," he said. "I must apologize, Mr.
Courage, for having troubled you with my private affairs, and wish you
good-night!"
We separated a few moments later, and I went down to my state-room. I
found Guest busy writing in a pocket-book, seated on the edge of his
bunk. I told him of my conversation with Mr. de Valentin.
"I knew it was risky," he remarked when I had finished, "but it was an
opportunity which I dared not miss."
"You might have told me about it," I protested. "I was altogether
unprepared."
"The less you know," he answered, "the better. If you like, I will show
you tracings of some letters which I discovered in Mr. de Valentin's
portfolio. They were quite worth the journey to America, apart from
anything else. Personally, I should advise you not to see them until our
return to England."
"Very well," I answered. "Don't show them to me. But I shouldn't try it
again. Mr. de Valentin is on his guard."
Guest smiled a little wearily.
"I am not likely to make such a mistake as that," he answered. "Besides,
I have been through all his papers. His secrets are ours now, only we
must know what is decided upon at Lenox. Then we can return to England,
and the first part of our task will be done!"
CHAPTER XXIV
A PRACTICAL WOMAN
Mrs. Van Reinberg on the steamer was a somewhat formidable person; Mrs.
Van Reinberg in her own house was despotism personified. Her word was
law, her rule was absolute. Consequently, when she swept out on to the
sunny piazza, where a little party of us were busy discussing our plans
for the day, we all turned towards her expectantly. We might propose, but
Mrs. Van Reinberg would surely dispose. We waited to hear what she might
have to say.
"I want to talk to Mr. Courage," she declared. "All the rest of you go
away!"
They obeyed her at once. We were alone in less than a minute. Mrs. Van
Reinberg established herself in a low wicker chair, and I took up my
position within a few feet of her, leaning against the wooden rail.
"I am entirely at your service, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I declared. "What is
it to be about--Adele?"
"No! not Adele," she answered. "I leave you and Adele to arrange your own
affairs. You can manage that without any interference from me."
I smiled and waited for her to proceed. She was evidently thinking out
her way. Her brows were knitted, her eyes were fixed upon a distant spot
in the forest landscape of orange and red. Yet I was very sure that at
that moment, the wonderful autumnal tints, which she seemed to be so
steadily regarding, held no place in her thoughts.
"Mr. Courage," she said at last, "you are a sensible man, and a man of
honor. I should like to talk to you confidentially."
I murmured something about being flattered, but I do not think that she
heard me.
"I should like," she continued, "to have you understand certain things
which are in my mind just now, and which concern also--Mr. de Valentin."
I nodded. The Prince's identity was an open secret, but his incognito was
jealously observed.
"I wonder," she said slowly, looking for the first time directly towards
me, "whether you have ever seriously considered the question of the
American woman--such as myself, for instance!"
I was a little puzzled, and no doubt I looked it. Mrs. Van Reinberg
proceeded calmly. It was made clear to me that, for the present, at any
rate, my role was to be simply that of listener.
"My own case," she said, "is typical. At least I suppose so! I speak for
myself; and there are others in the house, at the present moment, who
profess to feel as I do, and suffer--as I have done. In this country, we
are taught that wealth is power. We, or rather our husbands, acquire or
inherit it; afterwards we set ourselves to test the truth of that little
maxim. We begin at home. In about three years, more or less, we reach our
limitations. Then it begins to dawn upon us that, whatever else America
is good for, it's no place for a woman with ambitions. We're on the top
too soon, and when we're there it doesn't amount to anything."
"Which accounts," I remarked, "for the invasion of Europe!"
Mrs. Van Reinberg leaned her fair, little head upon her white
be-ringed fingers, and looked steadily at me. I had never for a moment
under-estimated her, but she had probably never so much impressed me.
There was something Napoleonic about this slow unfolding of her carefully
thought-out plans.
"Naturally," she answered. "What, however, so few of us are able to
realize is our utter and miserable failure in what you are pleased to
call that invasion."
"Failure!" I repeated incredulously. "I do not understand that. One hears
everywhere of the social triumphs of the American woman."
Mrs. Van Reinberg's eyes shone straight into mine. Her face expressed the
most unmitigated contempt.
"Social triumphs!" she repeated scornfully. "What clap-trap! I tell you
that a season in London or Paris, much more Vienna, is enough to drive a
real American woman crazy. Success, indeed! What does it amount to?"
She paused for a moment to take breath. I realized then that the woman
whom I had known was something of a fraud, a puppet hung out with the
rags of a European manner, according to the study and observation of the
shrewd, little lady who pulled the strings. It was Mrs. Van Reinberg of
London and Paris whom I had met upon the steamer; it was Mrs. Van
Reinberg of New York who was talking to me now, and she was speaking in
her own language.
"Look here, Mr. Courage," she said, leaning towards me with her elbows
upon her knees, and nothing left of that elegant pose which she had at
first assumed. "I suppose I've got my full share of the American spirit,
and I tell you I'm a bad hand at taking a back seat anywhere, or even a
front one on sufferance. And yet, wherever we go in Europe, that's what
we've got to put up with! You think we're mad on titles over here! We
aren't, but we are keen on what a title brings over your side. Take your
Debrett--there are I don't know how many baronets and lords and marquises
and earls, and all the rest of it. Do you realize that whatever public
place I'm in, or even at a friend's dinner-party, the homely, stupid
wives of those men have got to go in before me, and if they don't--why I
know all the time it's a matter of courtesy? That's what makes me mad!
Don't you dare to smile at me now. I'm in deadly earnest. In this
country, so far as society goes, I'm at the top. You may say it doesn't
amount to much, and you're right. But it makes it all the worse when I'm
in Europe, and see the sort of women I have to give place to. Say, don't
you sit there, Mr. Courage, and look at me as though I were a woman with
some cranky grievance to talk about. It's got beyond that, let me tell
you!"
"I can assure you, Mrs. Van Reinberg--" I began.
"Now listen here, Mr. Courage," she interrupted. "I'm not the sort of
woman to complain at what I don't try to alter. What's the good of having
a husband whose nod is supposed to shake the money markets of the world,
if you don't make use of him?"
I nodded sagely.
"You are quite right," I said. "Money, after all, is the greatest power
in the world to-day. Money will buy anything!"
"I guess so, if it's properly spent," Mrs. Van Reinberg agreed. "Only
very few of my country-people have any idea how to use it to get what
they want. They go over the other side and hire great houses, and bribe
your great ladies to call themselves their friends, and bribe your young
men with wonderful entertainments to come to their houses. They spend,
spend, spend, and think they are getting value for their money. Idiots!
The great lady whom they are proud to entertain one night is as likely as
not to cut them the next. Half the people who go to their parties go out
of curiosity, and half to meet their own friends. Not one to see them!
Not one because it does them the slightest good to be seen there. They
are there in the midst of it all, and that is all you can say. Their
motto should be 'on sufferance.' That's what I call going to work the
wrong way."
"You have," I suggested, "some other scheme?"
She drew her chair a little closer to mine, and looked around cautiously.
"I have," she admitted. "That is what we are all here for--to discuss it
and make our final plans."
"And Prince Victor?" I murmured.
"Precisely! He is in it, of course. I may as well tell you that he's
dead against my making a confidant of you; but I've a sort of fancy to
hear what you might have to say about it. You see I'm a practical woman,
and though I've thought this scheme out myself, and I believe in it,
there are times when it seems to me a trifle airy. Now you're a kind of
level-headed person, and living over there, your point of view would be
interesting."
"I should be glad to hear anything you might have to tell me, Mrs. Van
Reinberg," I said slowly; "but you must please remember that I am an
Englishman."
"Oh! we don't want to hurt your old country," she declared. "I consider
that for all the talk about kinship, and all that sort of thing, she
treats us--I mean women like myself--disgracefully. But that's neither
here nor there. I've finished with England for the present. We're going
to play a greater game than that!"
Mrs. Van Reinberg had dropped her voice a little. There was a somewhat
uncomfortable pause. I could see that, even at the last moment, she
realized that, in telling me these things, she was guilty of what might
well turn out to be a colossal indiscretion. I myself was almost in a
worse dilemma. If I accepted her confidence, I was almost, if not quite,
bound in honor to respect it. If, as I suspected, it fitted in with the
great scheme, if it indeed formed ever so small a part of these impending
happenings in which Guest so firmly believed, what measure of respect
were we likely to pay to it? None at all! If I stopped her, I should be
guilty, from Guest's point of view, of incredible folly; if I let her go
on, it must be with the consciousness that I was accepting her
confidences under wholly false pretences. It was a big problem for a man
like myself, new to the complexities of life. I could only think of
Guest's words: "Conscience! For Heaven's sake, man, lock it up until we
have done our duty."
I leaned against the wooden rail of the piazza, looking across the
grounds. Within a dozen yards or so of us, several of Mrs. Van Reinberg's
guests, with a collection of golf sticks, were clambering into a huge
automobile. Beyond the pleasure gardens was a range of forest-covered
hills, yellow and gold now with the glory of the changing foliage. In the
valley was a small steeplechase course, towards which several people were
riding. The horse which had been saddled for me was still being led about
a little way down the avenue. With the exception that there was no
shooting party, it was very much like the usual sort of gathering at an
English country house. And yet it all seemed wholly unreal to me! I felt
a strong inclination--perhaps a little hysterical--to burst out laughing.
This was surely a gigantic joke, planned against the proverbial lack of
humor of my countrymen! I was not expected to take it seriously! And yet,
in a moment, I remembered certain established facts, of which these
things were but the natural sequel. I remembered, too, a certain air of
seriousness, and a disposition towards confidential talk, manifested
among the older members of the party. Mrs. Van Reinberg's suppressed but
earnest voice again broke the silence. She called me back to her side.
"Mr. Courage," she said, "you are going to marry Adele?"
"I hope so," I answered confidently, glancing away to where she stood
talking to Mr. de Valentin on the piazza steps.
"I shall treat you then," she declared, "as one of the family. To-night,
after dinner, we are going to hold the meeting for which this houseful
of people was really brought together. I invite you to come to it.
Afterwards you will understand everything! Now I must hurry off, and so
must you! Your horse is getting the fidgets."
She swept off down the piazza. Mr. de Valentin came forward eagerly to
meet her. I saw his face darken as she whispered in his ear.
CHAPTER XXV
A CABLE FROM EUROPE
Dinner that night was a somewhat oppressive meal. Several new guests had
arrived, some of whom bore names which were well known to me. There was a
sense of some hidden excitement, which formed an uneasy background to the
spasmodic general conversation. The men especially seemed uncomfortable
and ill at ease.
"Poor father," Adele whispered to me, "he would give a good many of his
dollars not to be in this."
I glanced across at our host, who had come down from New York specially
in his magnificent private car, which was now awaiting his return on a
siding of the little station. He was a hard-faced, elderly man, with a
shrewd mouth and keen eyes, sparely built, yet a man you would be
inclined to glance at twice in any assemblage. He wore a most
unconventional evening suit, the waistcoat cut very high, and a plain
black tie. Two footmen stood behind his chair, and a large florid lady,
wearing a crown of diamonds, and with a European reputation for opulence,
sat on his right hand. Neither seemed to embarrass him in the least, for
the simple reason that he took no notice of them. He drank water, ate
sparingly, and talked Wall Street with a man a few places down the table
on the left. His speech was crisp and correct, but his intonation more
distinctly American than any of his guests'. On the whole, I think he
interested me more than any one else there.
"By the bye," I remarked, "I ought to be having a little private
conversation with your father this time, oughtn't I?"
She smiled at me faintly.
"It is usual," she assented. "I don't think you will find that he will
have much to say. I am my own mistress, and he is too wise to interfere
in such a matter. But--"
"Well?"
"You are a very confident person," she murmured.
"I am confident of one thing, at any rate," I answered, "and that is that
you are going to be my wife!"
She rebuked me with a glance, which was also wonderfully sweet.
"Some one will hear you," she whispered.
I shook my head.
"Every one is too busy talking about the mysteries to come," I declared.
She shrugged her dazzlingly white shoulders.
"Perhaps even you," she murmured, "may take them more seriously some
day."
A few minutes later Mrs. Van Reinberg rose.
"We shall all meet," she remarked, looking round the table, "at eleven
o'clock in the library."
In common with most of the younger men, I left the table at the same
time, the usual custom, I had discovered, here, where cigarettes were
smoked indiscriminately. There was baccarat in the hall; billiards and
bridge for those who care for them. Mrs. Van Reinberg waited for me in
the first of the long suite of reception-rooms. Mr. de Valentin, who had
been talking earnestly to her most of the time during the service of
dinner, remained only a few paces off. It struck me that Mrs. Van
Reinberg was not in the best of humors.
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