The Golden Bough. Gibbs George

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      Tanya stood silent a moment and then a wan smile rewarded him.

      "You see? I was right." And then bravely, "This must be prevented, Monsieur."

      "Yes. But how?"

      "Merely by robbing the vault yourself."

      "But I shall need your help, Mademoiselle. This money must be removed for safe keeping until it can be properly used."

      "Yes. I can help in that."

      "We must waste no time. The sooner the better. Where is the entrance to the vault?"

      "An iron door near the wall beyond the mound. I have a key."

      "Meet me here then in the shadow of these trees to-night, at one o'clock. Do you agree?"

      "Yes," she said after a moment. "I must."

      "And do you forgive me for-for-"

      She raised her head and looked past him toward the lighted windows.

      "What does it matter, Monsieur," she said coldly, "whether I forgive or not? Come." And moving quickly she led the way toward the house while Rowland followed, still certain that however clever he thought himself he felt a good deal of a fool.

      Khodkine pacing the floor of his room upstairs awaited Rowland's coming impatiently, but with an effort composed his features in a smile as the American appeared.

      "Ah, Monsieur," he said. "It is too bad that I should feel it necessary to interrupt your tête-à-tête with Madame Rochal, who as we all know is the most charming woman in the world. But the President of Nemi is not a free agent. There are matters requiring your attention in conference with me."

      "Of course."

      "Then I may go, Monsieur?" asked Tanya from the doorway.

      "Yes. Go," said Khodkine with an abstracted wave of his hand and a peremptory tone which made a frown gather at Rowland's brow. Gone were Monsieur Khodkine's soft accents of greeting and his courtly bow. And Tanya seemed in awe of him, her look hanging upon his commands. Rowland remembered the agitation in her manner when she had come to summon him to this conference. Had Khodkine frightened her tonight? And how? Why? Was there something between them, some threat of Russian for Russian, born of politics or intrigue in which Khodkine played the master hand? Or was it something nearer, more personal…? It seemed curious to Rowland that he should be thinking of this for the first time. He had formed his first impression of Tanya there last night in the garden, when clad in her cowl and robes she had seemed so abstracted from the world outside. "A very inferior Mother Superior," as she had called herself, and by this token secluded but very human. He had considered the fact of her extraordinary beauty merely as a fortunate accident, and having dismissed her relations with Ivanitch from his mind, had dismissed all other sentimental possibilities-all, that is, except his own. A love affair-of course. With Khodkine? Perhaps. And yet that would hardly explain the Russian's attitude toward her tonight-or hers toward him. The one thing that seemed to rise uppermost in Rowland's mind was Tanya's fear of Khodkine … As he joined the Russian at the table by the lamp, he found himself examining Monsieur Khodkine with a new interest and a new antipathy.

      "I have here some documents requiring your attention, in order that you may familiarize yourself with the order of business tomorrow when our circle is complete. The report of Herr Liederman from the Socialists of Germany, that of Mademoiselle Colodna from Rome, appeals from Shestov and Barthou. You will read them tonight, Monsieur?"

      "Willingly. But this, Monsieur Khodkine, was not why you interrupted my tête-à-tête in the garden," said Rowland slowly. "You had another motive."

      Khodkine smiled, got up and shut the door and went on in a low tone. "Why should I not be honest with you? Madame Rochal is not to be trusted, Monsieur. She has already surprised me. She opposed Liederman in accepting you unreservedly as our leader. It was from these two that I had expected resistance. Liederman is a member of the Reichstag. Madame Rochal-?" He shrugged. "If you can tell what she is, you are cleverer than the rest of us. She brings credentials from a central committee in Bavaria, but that means nothing. Such things are arranged. I merely wished to warn you before you had committed yourself to her interests."

      "You need have no fear. I've grown my pin feathers. The cause in which we are interested is more important to me than the fascinations of Madame Rochal."

      "We understand each other, Monsieur. We are friends. You will help me. I will help you. We shall work together in a harmony that will bring great good to the world. Are you satisfied?"

      "Quite."

      Khodkine offered his hand and Rowland took it, longing at that moment in a boyish sense of bravado to try grips with the Russian and see which was the better of the two. But his common sense told him that if there were to be a trial of strength between them, it would be a test of mind, of Rowland's cleverness against the Russian's finesse, of the American's skill in dissimulation against Khodkine's skill in intrigue. As yet there was no damage done, and with Tanya's help, Rowland perhaps held the stronger hand.

      "To show you the confidence I place in you, Monsieur Rowland, I shall give you this."

      And Khodkine, with a deliberateness intended to convey the importance of the matter, took out of his card case a small flat silver disk which he fingered a moment and then handed to Rowland. The American examined it curiously. It bore, in low relief, the double-headed just upon the pedestal in the room downstairs, and below it, the words REX NEMORENSIS.

      "A proof of your confidence-Monsieur. What-"

      "The talisman of our society. Taken from the watch chain of the dead Priest. Worn only by the Priest but known throughout Europe. Shown to members of our committees, it will carry you safely anywhere."

      "Ah, thanks, Monsieur."

      "You will forgive me for sending for you, will you not? But it will not do for you to move in the dark. Trust no one but me." He took up the papers on the table and handed them to the American. "Now go to your room, and study these papers carefully with my notes upon the margins, for it is according to this that the council must act tomorrow. But see no one else tonight. Tomorrow morning I will come to your room and tell you of my plan to enter the vault."

      "I shall do as you suggest, Monsieur. I am very tired. When I read these papers I shall be ready for a good night of sleep."

      "That is well. Good night, Monsieur."

      "Good night."

      In the seclusion of his room, the Leader of Nemi had much to think of. The labyrinth had grown deeper, its mazes more tortuous, but like Theseus he still held to the silken cord which bound him to Tanya Korasov, and having trusted to his own instincts he was now ready to follow blindly where she led him. But it was clear that Tanya had not under-rated the skill and strength of Monsieur Khodkine. He was indeed an adversary worthy of any man's metal. Under his polished veneer, Monsieur Khodkine was made of hardy wood of a fine grain but none the less strong because of that. Though there had been no chance to verify his impressions by a conversation with Tanya, Rowland had decided that Khodkine was working in the interests of Germany for a separate peace with Russia, which would throw all the strength of the German armies upon France, England, Italy and the United States. A mere surmise and based upon the instinct that Tanya was true and a friend of Russia, for which Rowland had fought and was fighting. Without Tanya the whole structure of his intrigue fell to the ground. If he believed that Madame Rochal was an agent of the Provisional Government of Russia, he must also believe that Tanya was plotting СКАЧАТЬ