She leaned forward and kissed the girl's hair where it was fine and
blond, close to the snowy forehead.
"If war comes," she said, "you and James will have to go home, like
two good children when the curfew rings."
She laughed, pushed Rue away, lighted another cigarette, and, casting
a glance partly ironical, partly provocative, at the good-looking
young man on the sofa, said: "As for you, James, I don't worry about you. Impudence will always
carry you through where diplomacy fails you. Now, tell me all about
these three unpleasant sporting characters who occupied the train with
you."
Neeland laughed.
"It seems that a well-known gambler in New York, called Captain Quint,
is backing them; and somebody higher up is backing Quint----"
"Probably the Turkish Embassy at Washington," interposed the Princess,
coolly. "I'm sorry, Jim; pray go on."
"The Turkish Embassy?" he repeated, surprised that she should guess.
"Yes; and the German Embassy is backing that. There you are, Jim. That
is the sequence as far as your friend, Captain Quint. Now, who comes
next in the scale?"
"This man--Brandes--and the little chalk-faced creature, Stull; and
the other one, with the fox face--Doc Curfoot."
"I see. And then?"
"Then, as I gathered, there are several gentlemen wearing Teutonic
names--who are to go into partnership with them--one named Kestner,
one called Theodore Weishelm, and an exceedingly oily Eurasian
gentleman with whom I became acquainted on the Volhynia--one Karl
Breslau----"
"Breslau!" exclaimed the Princess. "Now I understand."
"Who is he, Princess?"
"He is the most notorious international spy in the world--a protean
individual with aliases, professions, and experiences sufficient for
an entire jail full of criminals. His father was a German Jew; his
mother a Circassian girl; he was educated in Germany, France, Italy,
and England. He has been a member of the socialist group in the
Reichstag under one name, a member of the British Parliament under
another; he did dirty work for Abdul Hamid; dirtier for Enver Bey.
"He is here, there, everywhere; he turns up in Brazil one day, and is
next in evidence in Moscow. What he is so eternally about God only
knows: what Chancellery he serves, which he betrays, is a question
that occupies many uneasy minds this very hour, I fancy.
"But of this I, personally, am now satisfied; Karl Breslau is
responsible for the robbery of your papers today, and the entire
affair was accomplished under his direction!"
"And yet I know," said Neeland, "that after he and Kestner tried to
blow up the captain's cabin and the bridge aboard the Volhynia
yesterday morning at a little after two o'clock, he and Kestner must
have jumped overboard in the Mersey River off Liverpool."
"Without doubt a boat was watching your ship."
"Yes; Weishelm had a fishing smack to pick them up. Ilse Dumont must
have gone with them, too."