CHAPTER XVI
HIS EXCELLENCY IS WORRIED
At eleven o'clock, His Excellency the Minister was handed a card which read:
"RIGHT REV. DONALD MURRAY, D.D."
Touching a bell, His Excellency summoned Wratslav.
"There is a clergyman," he said, "who calls on me. I do not know him, and of course I cannot guess his business. Perhaps you will see him."
The secretary bowed and went out. As he entered the reception room, Father Murray arose. Before the priest could speak, the secretary began:
"You desire to see His Excellency?"
Father Murray bowed.
"I am sorry, but His Excellency is very much engaged. He has requested me to ascertain the nature of your business."
"I regret that I may not tell you the nature of my business." Father Murray's reply was instant. "I may speak only to the Minister himself."
"Then," answered the secretary, "I regret to say that he cannot receive you. A diplomat's time is not his own. I am in his confidence. Could you not give me some inkling as to what you desire?"
"Since I cannot see him without giving you the information, you might say to His Excellency that I have come to speak to him in reference to Miss Ruth Atheson—" Father Murray paused, then added coolly: "He will understand."
The secretary bowed courteously. "I will deliver your message at once," he said.
In exactly one minute the Minister himself was bowing to Father Murray.
"I beg your pardon for detaining you, Reverend Sir, but, as my secretary explained, I am extremely busy. You mentioned Miss Atheson and, at least so I understand from my secretary, seemed to think I would know of her. In deference to your cloth, I thought I would see you personally, though I do not recall knowing anyone by that name. Perhaps she wishes a visé for a passport?"
"That might explain it," answered Father Murray; "but I think she desires a passport without the visé. I have reason to believe that Your Excellency knows something of her—rather—unexpected departure from her home in Sihasset. In fact, my information on that point is quite clear. I am informed that she was mistaken for another, a visitor in her home. Possibly she is here now. The passport desired is your permission for her to return to her friends."
The Minister's face expressed blankness.
"You have been misinformed," he answered. "I know nothing of Miss Atheson. Would you kindly give me some of the facts? That is, if you think it necessary to do so. It is possible I might be able to be of service to you; if so, do not hesitate to command me."
"The facts are very easily stated," said the priest. "First, the young lady is my niece."
It was the Minister's boast—privately, understand—that he could always tell when a man believed himself to be telling the truth, and now—past master in the art of diplomacy though he was—he found it hard to conceal his shocked surprise at this confirmation of the girl's story.
"You say she left her home unexpectedly?"
"She was seized by two men and hurried to a waiting auto, Your Excellency."
"And this happened where?"
"At Sihasset. Your Excellency passed through there quite recently, and will probably remember it."
The half-closed eyes almost smiled.
"Had your niece lived there long?"
"Only a few months. She arrived less than a week before her visitor."
Outwardly the Minister was calm, unmoved; but underneath the cold exterior the lurking fear was growing stronger. He must know more—all.
"Before that—?"
"She came direct from England, where she was visiting relatives."
"She was educated there perhaps?"
"She received her education principally in Europe."
"She has traveled much, then?"
"She has spent most of her time in America since I came here; but she has many friends both in England and on the Continent, and visits them quite frequently. She has very special friends in San Sebastian."
"Ah!"
"Perhaps Your Excellency knows something about it now?"
"Nothing, I assure you. But I find your story very interesting, and regret that I can see no way of assisting you."
Father Murray perfectly understood the kind of man he was dealing with. He must speak more plainly, suggesting in some degree the extent of his knowledge.
"I see, Your Excellency, that it will be necessary for me to mention another name, or rather to mention a title. There are, in your Great Kingdom, dependent duchies, and therefore people called grand dukes, and others called grand duchesses. Does that help Your Excellency to understand?"
The Minister still had control of himself, though he was greatly worried.
"It does not, Reverend Sir," he answered, "unless you might possibly be able to introduce me to a grand duchess in America. I am always interested in my countrymen—and women. If a grand duchess were brought here—that is," he corrected himself, smiling courteously, "if a grand duchess should call to see me, I should be glad to place my entire staff at your service to find the Ruth Atheson you speak of. Perhaps your Reverence understands?"
"Thoroughly," said Father Murray. "I could not fail to understand. But it would be difficult for me to bring a grand duchess to call on you, since the only one I have ever known is, unfortunately, dead."
At last the Minister lost his sang froid. His face was colorless.
"Perhaps you will tell me the name of this grand duchess whom you knew?"
"I think Your Excellency already knows."
"How did she die, and when?"
"I am sorry to say that she was killed in an accident."
"Where?"
"If Your Excellency will pick up this morning's paper—which you possibly have neglected to read—you will see a list of those killed in a railroad wreck which took place the night before last on a Washington-bound train. The list includes 'two women, unknown' and the pictures of both are printed. Their bodies are now in the morgue in Baltimore awaiting identification."
The Minister turned hastily to a table on which a number of newspapers had been carelessly laid. He picked up a Washington publication. On the front page was a picture of two women lying side by side—taken at the morgue in Baltimore. Despite the rigor of death on the features, the Minister could perceive in the face of the younger woman an unmistakable resemblance to the girl upstairs. Greatly agitated, he turned to the priest.
"How do I know," he asked, "that this—" pointing to the picture—"is not Ruth Atheson?"
"I think," said the priest, "that you will have to take my word for it—unless Your Excellency will verify my statement by an actual visit to the morgue. The body is still unburied."
"I shall send to the morgue."
"Then for the present I will bid Your Excellency good morning. Before going, however, I should like to emphasize that the lady now in your custody is my niece. And Baron Griffin, of the Irish peerage, is taking an active personal interest in the matter. Baron Griffin is now in Washington and requests me to state that he will give you until to-morrow morning to restore the lady to her friends. That will afford ample time for a visit to Baltimore. Unless Miss Atheson is with us by ten o'clock to-morrow morning the whole affair will be placed in the hands of the British Ambassador and of our own State Department—with all the details. I might add that I am stopping at the New Willard Hotel."
The priest looked at His Excellency, who again felt the insistent hammering of that "something" he should have remembered. The phrase, "all the details," bore an almost sinister significance.
His Excellency gave a sudden start. "Atheson—Atheson." His voice was tense and he spoke slowly. "What was her father's name?"
It was what the priest had been waiting for, had expected all along. Forgotten for years—yes. But where was the diplomat who did not have the information somewhere in his files? His face saddened as he answered.
"Edgar Atheson."
"Etkar—"
But the priest raised his hand.
"Edgar Atheson—if you please."
The Minister bowed. "And you are the brother of—"
"Alice Murray," the priest interrupted quietly, with a touch of dignified hauteur.
His Excellency was silent, and his visitor continued.
"I must also suggest to Your Excellency that the fate of the young Italian officer is known to others beside myself. It would make unfortunate state complications if the occurrence should be made public. I wish Your Excellency good morning."
He turned to go, but the Minister stood between him and the door.
"One moment," he said. "I regret that it is necessary to request your Reverence to remain. You will pardon the necessity, I am sure. I cannot permit His Majesty's secrets to be made known to the public. State complications often oblige us to take stern measures, and—" he continued coldly—"you are now on the territory of my royal master."
But Father Murray did not seem at all afraid.
"Do not think of detaining me, Your Excellency," he said quietly. "I mentioned Baron Griffin. There is another. Both know where I am. Nor need you worry as to our discretion. We are well enough acquainted with state complications to know when silence is best. We shall not speak unless it becomes necessary; but in that event we shall not hesitate. Don't make matters more difficult for yourself. I shall insist on the release of my niece, and I warn you that neither you nor His Majesty may touch either of us and go unscathed. Kindly stand aside."
But His Excellency still barred the way.
"Your Reverence," he said, after a pause, "I shall stand aside on one condition: that you will again give me your word that you will keep silence. To-morrow morning you shall have your answer; but in the meantime not one syllable about this must pass your lips, and Baron Griffin must not approach the British Embassy on this matter. There may be no need of his doing so at all. Please understand my position. I must guard His Majesty's interests, and do my best under difficult circumstances. Whether the lady be the Duchess or your niece, no harm shall come to her. Have I your word?"
"You have my word. Unless Your Excellency makes it necessary to act, we shall keep silence."
"Then," said the Minister, stepping aside, "I will bid you good morning."
Father Murray bowed himself out. He met Mark and Saunders at the corner. As they walked away, they saw nothing of the spy upon their footsteps; but they knew that the spy was there, for they had knowledge of the ways of diplomacy. As a matter of fact, inside of twenty minutes the Minister knew what room each man was occupying at the New Willard. An attache did not leave the hotel all night; and the next morning the same man found himself in the unusual surroundings of St. Patrick's Church where Father Murray said Mass.
When the Minister returned to the library his face was white. Wratslav was in his confidence, and did not have to wait long for information. For the first time in his diplomatic career of thirty years His Excellency was nonplussed.
"If she is dead, Wratslav," he said, "what will be said of us, and what new trouble will arrive? Who is next in line of succession?"
"The Duchy," said Wratslav, "will pass to the Grand Duke's brother."
"Not so bad, not so bad. The King would like that. I think, then, that the brother is the only one who will benefit by this unfortunate complication. The Salic law should be enforced throughout the whole world. When we have to deal with women, only the good God knows what's going to happen. I am afraid the girl above told the truth."
"But," objected Wratslav, "even if she did, Excellency, you cannot take the risk of letting her go without orders from His Majesty. The Grand Duchess was always clever. She knew she was tracked down. It would be easy for her to pretend that she did not know her native language. You cannot let her go until you are sure."
The Minister passed his hand wearily across his forehead and sighed.
"At any rate we can verify some of the details. You must go to Baltimore, Wratslav, and view the bodies. Arrange for the embalming. Say that the two are ladies of our country. Give any names you wish. Place both bodies in a vault until this thing is cleared up; and bring me half a dozen pictures of the young one, taken close to the face on every side. Note the hair, the clothes, any jewels she may have about her; but, above all, find out if there are any papers to be found. See also if there are identifying marks. Return to-night; for by to-morrow morning I must be ready to decide. I shall send no dispatches until then."
His Excellency turned to his papers, and Wratslav left the room.