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Page 36
And it was the tramp of Captain Fraser-Freer's boots above my head
that showed me the way. A fine, stalwart, cordial fellow--the
captain--who has been very kind to me since I presented my letter
of introduction from his cousin, Archibald Enwright. Poor Archie!
A meek, correct little soul, who would be horrified beyond
expression if he knew that of him I had made a spy and a frequenter
of Limehouse!
The dim beginnings of the plot were in my mind when I wrote that
first letter, suggesting that all was not regular in the matter of
Archie's note of introduction. Before I wrote my second, I knew
that nothing but the death of Fraser-Freer would do me. I recalled
that Indian knife I had seen upon his desk, and from that moment he
was doomed. At that time I had no idea how I should solve the
mystery. But I had read and wondered at those four strange messages
in the Mail, and I resolved that they must figure in the scheme of
things.
The fourth letter presented difficulties until I returned from
dinner that night and saw a taxi waiting before our quiet house.
Hence the visit of the woman with the lilac perfume. I am afraid
the Wilhelmstrasse would have little use for a lady spy who
advertised herself in so foolish a manner. Time for writing the
fifth letter arrived. I felt that I should now be placed under
arrest. I had a faint little hope that you would be sorry about
that. Oh, I'm a brute, I know!
Early in the game I had told the captain of the cruel way in which
I had disposed of him. He was much amused; but he insisted,
absolutely, that he must be vindicated before the close of the
series, and I was with him there. He had been so bully about it
all. A chance remark of his gave me my solution. He said he had
it on good authority that the chief of the Czar's bureau for
capturing spies in Russia was himself a spy. And so--why not a
spy in Scotland Yard?
I assure you, I am most contrite as I set all this down here. You
must remember that when I began my story there was no idea of war.
Now all Europe is aflame; and in the face of the great conflict, the
awful suffering to come, I and my little plot begin to look--well,
I fancy you know just how we look.
Forgive me. I am afraid I can never find the words to tell you how
important it seemed to interest you in my letters--to make you feel
that I am an entertaining person worthy of your notice. That
morning when you entered the Carlton breakfast room was really the
biggest in my life. I felt as though you had brought with you
through that doorway-- But I have no right to say it. I have the
right to say nothing save that now--it is all left to you. If I
have offended, then I shall never hear from you again.
The captain will be here in a moment. It is near the hour set and
he is never late. He is not to return to India, but expects to
be drafted for the Expeditionary Force that will be sent to the
Continent. I hope the German Army will be kinder to him than I was!
My name is Geoffrey West. I live at nineteen Adelphi Terrace--in
rooms that look down on the most wonderful garden in London. That,
at least, is real. It is very quiet there to-night, with the city
and its continuous hum of war and terror seemingly a million miles
away.
Shall we meet at last? The answer rests entirely with you. But,
believe me, I shall be anxiously waiting to know; and if you decide
to give me a chance to explain--to denounce myself to you in
person--then a happy man will say good-by to this garden and these
dim dusty rooms and follow you to the ends of the earth--aye, to
Texas itself!
Captain Fraser-Freer is coming down the stairs. Is this good-by
forever, my lady? With all my soul, I hope not.
YOUR CONTRITE STRAWBERRY MAN.
CHAPTER IX
Words are futile things with which to attempt a description of the
feelings of the girl at the Carlton as she read this, the last letter
of seven written to her through the medium of her maid, Sadie Haight.
Turning the pages of the dictionary casually, one might enlist a
few--for example, amazement, anger, unbelief, wonder. Perhaps, to
go back to the letter a, even amusement. We may leave her with the
solution to the puzzle in her hand, the Saronia a little more than
a day away, and a weirdly mixed company of emotions struggling in
her soul.
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