VON BEHRLING IS TEMPTED
The night was dark but fine, and the crossing smooth. Louise, wrapped in furs, abandoned her private cabin directly they had left the harbor, and had a chair placed on the upper deck. Von Behrling found her there, but not before they were nearly half-way across.
She beckoned him to her side. Her eyes glowed at him through the darkness.
"You are not looking after me, my friend," she declared. "By myself I had to find this place."Von Behrling was ruffled. He was also humbly apologetic.
"It is those idiots who are with me," he said. "All the time they worry."She laughed and drew him down so that she could whisper in his ear.
"I know what it is," she said. "You have secrets which you are taking to London, and they are afraid of me because I am a Servian.
Tell me, is it not so? Perhaps, even, they think that I am a spy."Von Behrling hesitated. She drew him closer towards her.
"Sit down on the deck," she continued, "and lean against the rail.
You are too big to talk to up there. So! Now you can come underneath my rug. Tell me, are they afraid of me, your friends?""Is it without reason?" he asked. "Would not any one be afraid of you - if, indeed, they believed that you wished to know our secrets?
I wonder if there is a man alive whom you could not turn round your little finger."She laughed at him softly.
"Ah, no!" she said. "Men are not like that, nowadays. They talk and they talk, but it is not much they would do for a woman's sake.""You believe that?" he asked, in a low tone.
"I do, indeed. One reads love-stories - no, I do not mean romances, but memoirs - memoirs of the French and Austrian Courts - memoirs, even, written by Englishmen. Men were different a generation ago.
Honor was dear to them then, honor and position and wealth, and yet there were many, very many then who were willing to give all these things for the love of a woman.
"And do you think there are none now?" he whispered hoarsely.
"My friend," she answered, looking down at him, "I think that there are very few."She heard his breath come fast between his teeth, and she realized his state of excitement.
"Mademoiselle Louise," he said, "my love for you has made me a laughing-stock in the clubs of Vienna. I - the poverty-stricken, who have nothing but a noble name, nothing to offer you - have dared to show others what I think, have dared to place you in my heart above all the women on earth.""It is very nice of you," she murmured. "Why do you tell me this now?""Why, indeed?" he answered. "What have I to hope for?"She looked along the deck. Not a dozen yards away, two cigar ends burned red through the gloom. She knew very well that those cigar ends belonged to Streuss and his friend. She laughed softly and once more she bent her head.
"How they watch you, those men!" she said. "Listen, my friend Rudolph. Supposing their fears were true, supposing I were really a spy, supposing I offered you wealth and with it whatever else you might claim from me, for the secret which you carry to England!""How do you know that I am carrying a secret?" he asked hoarsely.
She laughed.
"My friend," she said, "with your two absurd companions shadowing you all the time and glowering at me, how could one possibly doubt it? The Baron Streuss is, I believe, the Chief of your Secret Service Department, is he not? To me he seems the most obvious policeman I ever saw dressed as a gentleman.""You don't mean it!" he muttered. "You can't mean what you said just now!"She was silent for a few moments. Some one passing struck a match, and she caught a glimpse of the white face of the man who sat by her side - strained now and curiously intense.
"Supposing I did!"
