The Secret Witness, George Gibbs [world of reading TXT] 📗

she thought that already she had read enough of her companion's character to know that at least so far she was on safe ground. She gave him permission to smoke without his asking it, and this, it seemed, made for the beginnings of a new informality in their relations.

"There isn't the slightest reason," she said with a smile, "that you should be uncomfortable. Since you are doomed for the present to share my imprisonment——"

"Doomed?" he exclaimed civilly. "You may be sure that I don't look upon such a doom with unhappiness, Countess. Are you very tired?"

"A little. I shall sleep presently."

"Do you know," he said as he thoughtfully inhaled his cigarette, "for the first time in my rather variegated career, I find myself in a false position."

"Really! How?"

"I will explain. I have had much dealing to do with women—with women of a certain sort. It is a part of my trade. Were you unscrupulous, intriguing, you would meet your match. As it is you have me at a disadvantage."

"I?"

"I have felt it—from the first. Even a secret agent has eyes, dimensions, senses. I am a little abashed as if in the presence of phenomena. Your helplessness and innocence, your loyalty and unselfishness—you must be sure that I am not unaware of them."

Marishka laughed easily.

"You restore my faith in human kind, Captain Goritz. You'll admit that your attitude toward me has been far from reassuring."

"Countess, I beg of you——"

"The alternative to disobeying your wishes—destruction—death!" she went on, shuddering prettily.

"I am merely a cog in the great wheel of efficiency. I spoke figuratively——"

"But of course you know," she broke in quickly, with another laugh, "that I didn't believe you. I haven't really been frightened at all. How could I be? You're not in the least alarming. To face the alternative you imposed would take courage. I am easily frightened at a mouse. The deduction is obvious——"

He laughed and then said soberly, "It is far from my wish to frighten you. That kind of brutality has its justification, but this is not the occasion, nor you the woman."

"I was sure of it. If I hadn't been I shouldn't have come with you."

"Ah!" Goritz straightened and stared at her. "But—your promise——"

"I should have broken that and asked the first gendarme in the Ringstrasse to take me home. You admit that the plan would have been feasible?"

He shrugged.

"The Countess Strahni's word of honor——"

"Honor is as honor does and I am here, Captain Goritz."

"I trust that you will have no reason to regret your decision."

"That sounds like another threat."

"It isn't. I actually mean what I say. A secret agent doesn't permit himself such a luxury very often," he laughed.

"Then you're not going to murder me offhand——"

"Countess, I protest——"

"You wish my last moments to be graced with courtesy. I shall at least die like a rose—in aromatic pain."

Her irony was not lost on him. He was silent a moment, regarding her soberly.

"Countess, you are too clever to be unkind—your lips too lovely to utter words so painful. I could not do you harm—it is impossible. I pray that you will believe me."

"I am merely taking you at face value, Herr Hauptmann," she returned coolly. "You have told me that you are merely a thinking machine, or a cog in the wheel of efficiency, which plans my elimination——"

"A figure of speech. Your silence was what I meant."

"Ah, silence! Perhaps. It seems that I have already said enough."

"Quite," he smiled. "You have set Europe in a turmoil—another Helen——"

"With another Paris in your background?" she shot at him.

He smiled, lowering his gaze to the ash of his cigarette.

"You speak in riddles."

"It's your trade to solve them."

"Do not underestimate my intelligence, I understand you," he laughed. "It is a fortunate thing for me that you are not a secret agent. My occupation would be gone."

"It is a villainous occupation."

"Why?"

"Because no secret agent can be himself. It's rather a pity, because I'd like to like you."

"And don't you—a little?"

"I might if I thought that I could believe in you. If a man is not true to himself, he cannot be true to those that wish to be his friends."

He was silent for a moment.

"I think perhaps," he said quietly at last, "that you do me an injustice. I am merely the servant of my government——"

"Which, stops at no means—even death."

"I too look death in the face, Countess," he said with a slow smile. "It lurks in every byway—hangs in every bush."

"It is frightful," she sighed, "to live like that, preying upon others, and being preyed upon—when the world is so beautiful."

"The world is just what men have made it. I, too, once dreamed——" His words trailed off into silence, and he looked out of the window into the night.

"And now?" she asked.

Something in the tone of her voice made him straighten and glance at her. He had seen the same look in other women's eyes.

"And now, I dream no more, Countess Strahni," he said abruptly.

Marishka's gaze fell before his.

"I am sorry," she said.

There was another silence in which Captain Goritz took out another cigarette.

"I do not think that I quite—understand you, Countess Strahni——"

"Naturally," she broke in. "You have known me—let us see—a little less than twelve hours."

Her smile disarmed him.

"You are far from transparent, Countess," he said quizzically.

"And if I were?"

"It would probably be because you wished me to see something beyond," with a laugh.

"To one who deals in mystery and intrigue, sincerity must always be bewildering."

"H—m! I was once stabbed in the back by a woman who was too sincere."

The smile left Marishka's face. "How terrible!"

"It was. I nearly died. It was my mistake, you see."

Marishka was silent for a long moment. And then,

"I'm afraid, Captain Goritz, that the world has left you bitter."

"To the secret agent the world is neither sweet nor bitter. He has no sense of taste or of feeling. He is merely a pair of ears—a pair of eyes which nothing must escape——"

"Deaf to music—blind to beauty," sighed Marishka. "From the bottom of my heart I pity you."

Captain Goritz gazed at her for a long moment, in silence, then his eyes narrowed slightly and his voice was lowered.

"It is rather curious, Countess Strahni, that you should hold in such low esteem a profession practiced by one of your most favored friends."

"Mine?" she questioned, startled.

"Herr Renwick," he replied dryly, "is a secret agent of the Serbian government."

A gasp escaped her, and she struggled for her composure at the mention of Hugh Renwick's name.

"That is impossible."

"I beg your pardon," he said politely, "I happen to know it to be the truth."

She laughed uneasily.

"Until two weeks ago Herr Renwick was an attaché of the British Embassy," she asserted.

"Of course. But he has been also in the pay of the Serbian government—Austria's enemy."

"You are misinformed," she gasped.

"I beg your pardon. England and Serbia are on excellent terms. You will not deny that Herr Renwick has been to Belgrade in the last two weeks?"

"You—you——" she paused in consternation, aware again of this man's omniscience.

"The details had not been clear until my return to Vienna. Think for a moment. Herr Renwick visits Belgrade and Sarajevo while a plan is arranged to take the life of the Archduke Franz. It is well within the bounds of possibility——"

"Your skill in invention does you credit," she put in quickly, "but Herr Renwick has no interest in the death of the Archduke. On the contrary, he has done what he could to save him."

"You will admit that it was Renwick who gave you the information of this plot."

"Yes—but——"

"One moment. You'll also admit that he gave no authority for his information."

"But he did what he could to help me warn the Archduke."

"H—m! You did not know perhaps that it is to Serbia's interest and to Renwick's to warn the Archduke. Austria needs a pretext to make war on Serbia. Every diplomat in Europe is aware of that. If the Archduke is attacked in Sarajevo, war will be declared on Serbia within a week."

He paused a moment watching Marishka's face, intent upon its changing expressions.

"Herr Renwick is no enemy of Austria," she asserted firmly.

"If he is no enemy of Austria, how could he act for the Serbian government, which follows instructions from St. Petersburg? Herr Renwick knew of the plot against the life of the Archduke, for he told you of it. Where did he learn of it? In Sarajevo or Belgrade, where it was hatched. Who informed him? His friends of the Serbian Secret Service who live among the anarchists at Sarajevo and Belgrade."

"I do not believe you."

"You must. Serbia has done what she can to prevent this crime. His Excellency tells me that today the Serbian Minister in Vienna pleaded with the Austrian Ministry to use its efforts to have the visit of the Archduke Franz postponed. He was ignored."

He paused and flecked his cigarette out of the window, while Marishka gazed straight before her, trying to think clearly of Hugh Renwick. A Serbian spy! It was impossible. And yet every word that this man spoke hurt her cruelly. Renwick had been in Sarajevo and Belgrade, for he had told her so. He alone of all persons outside the Secret Government of Austria had been in a position to know the details of the plot and to prepare her for them. He had sought to use her in warning the Duchess, not as an agent of humanity and Christian charity, but as the emissary of the cowardly and vicious government across the border, Austria's enemy, Serbia the regicide and the degenerate, about the fate of which hung the peace of Europe. Hugh Renwick!

Her mind refused her. Fatigue and want of sleep were making her light-headed. She would not believe. She shut her eyes and by an effort of will managed to get control of her voice. "I find that I am very tired, Captain Goritz," she said quietly.

"Ah, it was very thoughtless—inconsiderate of me," he said, with sudden accents of civility. "It is very painful to believe ill of those to whom one is attached," he finished suavely.

"You are mistaken," she said slowly. "There is no attachment between Herr Renwick and me."

"A friend, let us say, then," he put in keenly, "in whom one is disappointed."

"It is nothing to me, Captain Goritz," she said, meeting his eyes bravely, "what Herr Renwick is or does."

He smiled and bowed.

"Still," he said with his exasperating pertinacity, "it is of course interesting to know the truth. It would perhaps be still more interesting to know what Herr Renwick has to say in regard to the matter."

"I do not care what Herr Renwick would have to say. I do not expect to see Herr Renwick again, Captain Goritz, in Vienna or elsewhere."

He smiled at her politely.

"But you will admit, it is not within the bounds of possibility. Herr Renwick is clever—indefatigable——"

Marishka started up in her seat.

"You mean?"

"Merely that Herr Renwick is not easily discouraged. I would not be in the least surprised if he followed us on to Sarajevo."

Marishka stared at her companion for a moment and then sank back in her seat.

"Oh," she gasped.

Her long sustained effort to keep pace with events had been too much for her. Her faculties failed to respond, and she closed her eyes in an attempt to obliterate all sight and sound. Dimly she heard the voice of Captain Goritz above the grinding of the brakes of the train.

"I am sorry that you are so tired, Countess Strahni. I shall now leave you to your own devices. We have reached Brück, and I shall go to another compartment. I shall arrange with the guard to see to your comfort."

The train stopped and the guard opened the door.

"Good-night, liebchen," he said with a smile. And as she opened her eyes in astonishment, she heard him say to the guard:

"Frau Lieutenant von Arnstorf desires to sleep. I am going to smoke with a friend in the adjoining carriage. She is not to be disturbed. You understand."

The man saluted and closed the door, and Marishka was alone. With an