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Peter, with whitened hair, gold-rimmed spectacles, a slouch hat and a fur coat, passed easily enough for an English maker of electrical instruments; while Sogrange, shabbier, and in ready-made American clothes, was transformed into a Canadian having some connection with the theatrical business. They plunged into the heart of New York life, and found the whole thing like a tonic.
Think of the December fogs you have left behind, the cold, driving rain, the puddles in the street, the gray skies London, in short, at her ugliest and worst." "That is all very well," Peter protested, "but I have left several other things behind, too." "As, for instance?" Sogrange inquired, genially. "My wife," Peter informed him. "Violet objects very much to these abrupt separations.
Peter exclaimed. "Without a doubt," Sogrange assented. "The government appealed to us first some months ago when I was in America. For a time we had no success. Then a clue, and the rest was easy. The navy, the army, the post-office employees, the telegraph and telephone operators and the railway men, have been the chief recipients of this incessant stream of foul literature.
I had fears that I might find you alone in a darkened room, with tear-stained eyes and sal volatile by your side. This is infinitely better. Gentlemen, you are welcome." Sogrange lifted his glass and bowed courteously. Peter followed suit. "Really," Sogrange murmured, "the Press nowadays becomes more unreliable every day.
"Once before Bernadine set a trap for me, and he nearly had a chance of sending me for a swim in the Thames. Since then one takes precautions as a matter of course. We were followed down here, and by this time I should imagine that the alarm is given. If all was well I was to have telephoned an hour ago." "You are really," Sogrange declared, "quite an agreeable companion, my dear Baron.
The two men were suddenly conscious that they were being surrounded. Peter's hand stole on to the butt of his revolver. Sogrange rose slowly to his feet. His hands were thrust out in front of him with the thumbs turned down. The four fingers of each hand flashed for a minute through the air. Mr. Philip Burr lost all his self-control. "Say, where the devil did you learn that trick?" he cried.
It was so obviously a procession intended to impress, that neither Peter nor Sogrange thought it worth while to conceal their interest. The Duchesse, save that she was tall and wrapped in magnificent furs, presented a somewhat mysterious appearance.
Read it out to me." Peter took it into his hand and turned it over. A quick exclamation escaped him. "Great Heavens! The Count von Hern Bernadine!" "Just so," Sogrange assented. "Nice clear writing, isn't it?" Peter sat bolt upright in his chair. "Do you mean to say that Bernadine is on board?" Sogrange shook his head.
Am I, is the Marquis de Sogrange here, after a lifetime of experience, likely to leave the safety of our homes in company with a lady of whom we knew nothing except that she was your companion, without precautions? I do you the justice to believe you are a person of common sense. I know that we are as safe in this house as we should be in our own.
They were on the twelfth story, and to a European there was something magnificent in that tangled mass of buildings threaded by the elevated railway, with its screaming trains, the clearness of the atmosphere, and in the white streets below, like polished belts through which the swarms of people streamed like insects. "Imagine it all lit up!" Sogrange exclaimed.
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