A Princess of the Balkans/Chapter 5

The Lady Thalia looked up, and as her eyes fell upon Sir James they opened to their fullest width and the rich color faded from her cheeks. The next instant it came pouring back again, considerably deeper in tone, while her long lashes fell.

The man to whom she had been talking, and who was looking into her face at the time, observed the flash of emotion, and, swinging in his chair, glanced up curiously at Sir James. The two were slightly acquainted, having previously met at the same house. Sir James crossed the room in his usual calm and cheerful manner, bowed before the girl, then, with a pleasant word, turned to shake hands with the Frenchman.

"And how do you find yourself, mademoiselle," said he in French, "after our little accident of last evening?" Without waiting for her reply, and in order to give her the cue, he turned to the Frenchman and continued; "While motoring last night with a friend, we had the misfortune to come in collision with the Prince Emilio and Baron Rosenthal."

"Indeed! And was there any damage?"

"None whatever to the cars," replied Sir James placidly. "The prince, my friend, and myself were thrown about a little and slightly shaken up."

The lips of the Lady Thalia began to twitch, and the Frenchman, suspecting some understanding between the two, murmured his felicitations on their escape from serious injury, and, with a comment on the dangers of motoring, excused himself.

When he had gone, the girl leaned back in her fauteuil and looked at Sir James smilingly.

"Awfully jolly, finding you here," said Sir James cheerfully. "Saves such a lot of trouble."

"Are you quite sure?" she answered.

"Positive. We had set ourselves to comb Paris to find you."

"And now that you have found us?" asked the girl.

"We can make our plans," answered Sir James, in his most matter-of-fact tone.

"Indeed!" The hazel eyes opened a little wider. "How is Mr. Dallas?"

"Quite furious. You see, the chauffeur sat on him."

"No!"

"Really. And I'm not quite sure that the brute did not cuff him once or twice. Stephen would not admit it, but I noticed that one ear was a trifle puffed up, and when he brushed his hair he swore."

The Lady Thalia leaned back in her chair and laughed until her eyes were misty. Then her lovely face grew serious.

"And how are you?" she asked. "I have been horribly anxious. When we left, you were quite unconscious."

"Merely a little nap," replied Sir James calmly. "The baron knows his work. When I awoke, quite refreshed, I found Dallas raving with a thirst for revenge and a deep appreciation for the charms of a certain lady."

"And you?"

"Um—ah—my own emotions were not so complicated. I harbor no ill will against Rosenthal."

The girl's eyes fell. "Paula is very fascinating, is she not?"

"So Stephen tells me. No doubt he is quite right."

The rich color deepened in the cheeks of the Lady Thalia, and her long lashes swept down to hide what was in the amber-colored eyes.

"But about our plans," said Sir James. "We have undertaken to get you out of the hands of the prince and Rosenthal and land you safely in—ah"

"Novibazar?"

"Quite so." Sir James adjusted his monocle, and, taking a small gold pencil from his pocket, scribbled something upon his cuff. The girl's lips twitched.

"We must give these chaps the slip," said Sir James. "Then we'll run you two ladies down through Switzerland and across to the Dalmatian coast. Get into your country by the back door, so to speak."

The girl's face became grave, and she shook her head.

"That is very dear and chivalrous of you," said she, "but it is quite impossible. We are leaving in two days for Belgrade, and Rosenthal has threatened to inform the police of Paula's identity if we try to run away in the meantime. It would not be safe."

Sir James knit his brows and spun his monocle around his finger.

"Besides," said the Lady Thalia slowly, "we could not think of letting you put yourself to so much trouble and expense."

"As for the trouble," said Sir James, "that doesn't count, because, you see, we've neither of us a blessed thing to do, and as far as expense is concerned, Dallas swears that he would cheerfully put up forty thousand pounds against old Rosenthal's, just to get even. He's shockingly rich. What will happen when you get to Belgrade?"

The Lady Thalia's face clouded. "I have no idea," she answered. "To tell the truth, the thought is a little terrifying. Servia is a very wild country, and Emilio has great influence there."

"You mean that he might do something nasty?"

"N-no. Rosenthal, who is kind-hearted in a way, would see that no actual harm happened us. But I think they are quite capable of keeping us somewhere under guard until they have either carried out their plans or"

The small white teeth came together.

"Or you have consented to marry Emilio?"

She nodded.

"In that case," said Sir James, "we will try to give them the slip at Belgrade. No, don't interrupt, please." The young man's pleasant voice had grown suddenly crisp, and his habitual indolent cheerfulness had disappeared. "You don't quite understand, Lady Thalia. The affair has ceased to be a lark, nor is it a matter of gallantry. Dallas and I have made a promise not only to you and Paula Rubitzki, but to ourselves. We have been knocked down and beaten and made fools of, and we cannot drop the undertaking now with honor. There is also, of course, the desire to be of service to you. Unless you forbid us, which I am sure you will not, we mean to see the thing through."

"It is dangerous work, Sir James. You do not understand what you are undertaking."

"I understand enough, and so does Dallas. Will you accept us as your knights-errant? Surely you will not refuse now, and go on and leave us disgraced?"

"But you are not disgraced. Last night you were outnumbered; the odds were too heavy, and there are very few men, Sir James, who would care to attack a giant like Rosenthal. There is nothing for you to feel ashamed of, and besides"—she slightly raised her chin—"I do not consider mere personal pride to be enough of a motive for what you wish to do."

"It is not the only motive. You see, Dallas and I are mere idlers. I paint bad pictures, and he plays with motors. We have often bewailed our lack of objective. Now you are trying to do a very fine thing, and if you succeed in getting away from these two animals and out to your own country, you are going to try to prevent a border war and to bring your country under the control of a civilized administration. That is fine. It's splendid! If one could do something like that, one would not feel such an unpardonably useless member of society; so, you see, Stephen and I would like to help, if you don't mind."

The Lady Thalia smiled.

"You men are dears!" she said impulsively, in her soft, accented English. "Paula and I should consider ourselves very lucky to have found two such friends. Come, then, if you wish." She held out her hand.

Sir James took it quickly in his, and, with his brick-red face slightly brickier, leaned over and brushed it with his lips. At the same moment there came from the doorway behind him an explosive "Sapristi!" followed by a hoarse, gurgling chuckle. He turned in his chair, and looked up into the sardonically grinning face of Baron Isidor Rosenthal.

"Mein Gott!" cried the Jew. "You vas at it again!" He shook his great head, and his craggy, satanic features became suddenly grave. "My friend, this vill not do. The prince is in the other r-r-room playing bridge; if he finds you here, there vill be a scene." His brown eyes, shot with their multiple hazel dots, grew somber. "I should have hitted you harder," he growled.

"Mr. Dallas," observed Sir James pleasantly, "should have hit the prince harder. By rights, he ought to be in bed with his face in a towel."

"His face is not pretty," said the Jew, with a grin. "His eyes are very bad. We have told the people that we vas in collision last night. But you must be careful, Sir Chames."

"Suppose you go in and keep him busy for a few minutes. I will not be long."

Rosenthal hesitated for an instant; then his diabolic grin pushed up the corners of his bushy eyebrows and bared his great, yellow fangs.

"Goot!" said he. "I vill do it—because you are a goot sport! I like you, and I t'ink perhaps I owe you somet'ing. But do not be long, Sir Chames. I vant to show some stones to mademoiselle—a tiamond and ruby necklace I have yust bought for my dear vife in Buda-Pesth!" He turned and left the room.

Sir James and the Lady Thalia looked at each other and laughed.

"We must make our plans quickly," said the young man. "You say that you are going to leave for Belgrade the day after to-morrow?"

"The day after that—Thursday."

"Then Stephen and I will go on ahead of you as quickly as possible. We will take all our shooting things and give it out on our arrival that we are going up country after moufflon or ibex or chamois or whatever they have out there, and we will travel under the names of 'Mr. James' and 'Mr. Stephen.' On arriving at Belgrade, we will try to secure an intelligent native servant, in whom we will confide as much as seems necessary. For the rest, we shall have to trust to opportunity. It ought not to be difficult—Servia is such a wild country."

Again their eyes met. At the same moment there came from the other room a burst of laughter and many voices talking together, with the sound of chairs being pushed along the parquet.

"They have stopped playing," said the girl breathlessly. "You must go."

Sir James rose to his feet, then looked down at her with a smile.

"A bientôt," said he softly. "At Belgrade, then."

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. In the salon he came face to face with Rosenthal.

"You are going?" asked the Jew. "That is goot. The prince is a hothead."

"Is he? He did not act that way last night."

Rosenthal's yellow teeth shone between his mustache and his imperial.

"It is different in a salon," he said. "He has no polish, like you and me. He is a Serb—half civilized—pouf! Goot-by, Sir Chames."

The Englishman took the huge hand which a few hours earlier had landed closed and with crushing force upon his aristocratic head.

"Good-by, Baron Rosenthal," said he, smiling.