Archie resolved at once that he would use the great advantage which chance and the ingenuity of his friend had thrown in his way; but that necessity of putting money in his purse was a sore grievance to him, and it occurred to him that it would be a grand thing if he could induce his brother to help him in this special matter. If he could only make Hugh see the immense advantage of an alliance with the Russian spy, Hugh could hardly avoid contributing to the expense,—of course on the understanding that all such moneys were to be repaid when the Russian spy's work had been brought to a successful result. Russian spy! There was in the very sound of the words something so charming that it almost made Archie in love with the outlay. A female Russian spy too! Sophie Gordeloup certainly retained but very few of the charms of womanhood, nor had her presence as a lady affected Archie with any special pleasure; but yet he felt infinitely more pleased with the affair than he would have been had she been a man spy. The intrigue was deeper. His sense of delight in the mysterious wickedness of the thing was enhanced by an additional spice. It is not given to every man to employ the services of a political Russian lady-spy in his love-affairs! As he thought of it in all its bearings, he felt that he was almost a Talleyrand, or, at any rate, a Palmerston.
Should he tell his brother? If he could represent the matter in such a light to his brother as to induce Hugh to produce the funds for purchasing the Spy's services, the whole thing would be complete with a completeness that has rarely been equalled. But he doubted. Hugh was a hard man,—a hard, unimaginative man, and might possibly altogether refuse to believe in the Russian spy. Hugh believed in little but what he himself saw, and usually kept a very firm grasp upon his money.
"That Madame Gordeloup is always with Julia," Archie said, trying the way, as it were, before he told his plan.
"Of course she will help her brother's views."
"I'm not so sure of that. Some of these foreign women ain't like other women at all. They go deeper;—a doosed sight deeper."
"Into men's pockets, you mean."
"They play a deep game altogether. What do you suppose she is, now?" This question Archie asked in a whisper, bending his head forward towards his brother, though there was no one else in the carriage with them.
"What she is? A thief of some kind probably. I've no doubt she's up to any roguery."
"She's a—Russian spy."
"Oh, I've heard of that for the last dozen years. All the ugly old Frenchwomen in London are Russian spies, according to what people say; but the Russians know how to use their money better than that. If they employ spies, they employ people who can spy something."