Abduction -- Fiction; Americans -- Europe -- Fiction; Love stories
“Befriend me? I am sure one could not ask for a more charming
friend,” said he, smiling gallantly, but now evincing a shade of
interest.
“No flattery, Monsieur! It is purely a personal matter with me; this
is by no means a pleasure trip. I am running a great risk, but it is
for my own sake as much as for yours, so do not thank me. I came
from Paris on this train because I could not speak to you at the
Gare du Nord. You were watched too closely.”
“Watched? What do you mean?” almost gasped Quentin.
“I can only say that you are in danger and that you have incurred
the displeasure of a man who brooks no interference.”
He stared at her for a moment, his mind in a whirl. The thought that
she might be mad grew, but was instantly succeeded by another which
came like a shock.
“Is this man of noble blood?”
“Yes,” she almost whispered, turning her eyes away.
“And he means to do me harm?”
“I am sure of it.”
“Because?”
“Because he fears your power.”
“In what direction?”
“You know without asking, M. Quentin.”
“And why do you take this interest in me? I am nothing to you.”
“It's because you are not to be treated fairly. Listen. On this
train are two men who do not know that I am here, and who would be
confounded if they were to see me. They are in one of the forward
coaches, and they are emissaries sent on to watch your every
movement and to report the progress of your--your business in
Brussels. If you become too aggressive before the man who employs
them can arrange to come to Brussels, you are to be dealt with in a
manner effectual. What is to be done with you, I do not know, but I
am certain you are in great danger unless you--” She paused, and a
queer expression came into her wide eyes.
“Unless what? You interest me.”
“Unless you withdraw from the contest.”
“You assume that there is a contest of some sort. Well, admitting
there is one, I'll say that you may go back to the prince and tell him
his scheme doesn't work. This story of yours--pardon me, Mademoiselle
is a clever one, and you have done your part well, but I am not in
the least alarmed. Kindly return to the man who sent you and ask him
to come in your stead if he wants to frighten me. I am not afraid of
women, you know.”
“You wrong me, Monsieur; I am not his agent. I am acting purely on
my own responsibility, for myself alone. I have a personal object in
warning you, but that is neither here nor there. Let me add that I
wish you success in the undertaking which now interests you. You
must believe me, though, when I say that you are in danger.
Forewarned is forearmed. I do not know what steps are to be taken
against you; time will expose them. But I do know that you are not
to win what you seek.”
“This is a very strange proceeding,” began he, half-convinced of her
sincerity.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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