"No," said the lady. "The day I reached town a note was left at my hotel—I had been dogged! It was written in Turkish and ran, 'The day the British government receives your communication, that day your husband dies.' There was neither address nor signature. It proved that I and my schemes were known, but—it proved that my husband was still alive.
"This gave me hope. With the treaty as a lever I might yet free Lukos. I have been working to that end for six months—ever since I came to England. It is a slow business, this diplomacy, but I am beginning to have strong hopes. And now I think it is almost the time to strike."
"But you must be careful," said Lionel anxiously. "With such a document——"
She smiled faintly.
"Twice already they have made attempts." She opened a drawer in an escritoire near at hand. Within lay a small but serviceable revolver. "See! I always go armed. Of course it is useless to approach the police—that would sign Lukos' death-warrant at once.
"But to return and finish my tale.... As soon as possible I wrote to my sister. I did not go to her, not wishing to involve her in my perils. I explained as much of the situation as I could, hinted at high politics, and begged her not to see me till I gave the word. She was puzzled, but obeyed. She wrote back a loving letter, the most important feature of which was the news that my share of my father's estate (eight hundred a year) could be drawn on at Coutts'. Already a handsome sum was to my credit, for I had not required any money while Lukos and I were together. So with this sum and Lukos' notes at my disposal I was in no need of money. But I soon found that I needed a hobby to keep me from thinking too much, and that brings me rapidly to the stage.
"'A hobby' under such circumstances must sound curious: really, it is mere common sense. The paths of diplomacy I discovered were very steep, the movement of the wheels was very slow. When I had done everything possible and could think of nothing else, I had a great deal of time on my hands. Painting and music were not to my taste; acting was, for I had always had, like most young people, a liking for the stage. Also, like most young people, I believed I had the dramatic instinct. I got to know a manager—with money things are easy—and he gave me a small part, a few lines, in a new play. There was nothing in that, but what followed was really my one piece of luck. In return for a consideration he allowed me to understudy the lead, never dreaming my capacity would be tested. A fortnight later my principal slipped on a fruit-skin and broke her leg. (The incident gave rise to a correspondence on the Banana Fall in one of the cheaper papers.) I played the part that night, and, unlike most young people, my belief in myself was justified. I was a success. The manager, rejoicing that he need not look for a new principal, plumed himself on his discernment, and 'boomed' me for all he was worth.
"Well, I was a success; but naturally I had to pay the price. In this case the price was my sister's affection. From the first she had objected to my going on the stage: it was a case of conscientious prejudice, and that is one of the stubbornest things on earth. She had written daily letters of appeal, and all my arguments were useless. I do not wish to dwell on this ... enough to say that there grew an estrangement ... now, we do not even write...."
"Strange," said Lionel thoughtfully, "how even the best can be obstinate. I hope that time may——"
"That reminds me!" said the lady briskly, shaking off her sadness and glancing at the clock, "I shall be on again shortly. Will you do something for me? Thank you—I was sure you would. At a quarter to eleven go out and get me a cab or a taxi. Now, it is important that we should not be seen leaving the theater together—there will probably be spies. Oh, yes! I know it sounds absurd, but in this you must be guided by me. Get the cab and drive back by devious ways to the stage-door. There wait for me. I shall be ready by eleven-fifteen at the latest. That is all.... No! I forgot the reward!"