The Laughing Girl

"Do you think you are?"

"Well, do you wish to know what I believe you to be?"

"You probably have guessed. So don't say it too loud, Michael. Besides, I have taken no pains to conceal my business from you."

"I think you are an agent of the United States Secret Service," said I. "And I think you learned, somehow or other, that this bunch of Kings was coming here to conspire. And I think you very cleverly picked me up in Berne with a view to being invited here so that you could watch their activities and keep your government informed. How near right am I?"

"You ought to know," he retorted, laughing.

"Well then – if I do know – what are you going to do about this enterprise of Clelia and Thusis? Help them collar this royal gang and smuggle them across the frontier into France?"

He shook his head: "No, I can't do that."

"Your duties do not permit such amusements?"

"No. I am engaged to fulfill a definite duty. In fact I'm pledged to carry out a certain mission. It's a matter of honor. I'm sorry."

"It limits you?"

"It does."

"Checks any adventurous or romantic inclination toward aiding Thusis and Clelia to nab Tino & Co.?"

"I'm afraid it does."

"So you can't do any kidnaping, Smith?"

He laughed. "Oh, as far as that goes, I may have to do some."

"Kidnaping?"

"Possibly."

"You're a strange creature, Smith. And, speaking of strange creatures, who the devil is that Princess Pudelstoff? She talks English like an east-side Jewess."

"She is."

"W-what!!!"

"Certainly."

"The Princess Pudelstoff!"

"Her name was Leah Puppsky. She's the sister of Leo Puppsky, the Bolshevik envoy sent here with his confrere Isidore Wildkatz by Trotzky and Lenine to confer with Tino and Ferdie. She was once pretty – and she acted in an east-side theatre with Nazimova. Prince Pudelstoff was an attaché of the Russian Embassy at the time. He saw her act, fell in love, and married her, – of course with the Czar's knowledge and consent. But why the Czar let him do it is one of those diplomatic mysteries which remain unfathomed. Some believe that Rasputin had a reason for approving such an alliance." He shrugged.

"What a strange, fat, vulgar, good-natured woman," said I. "And what a grotesque company! Can you beat it? – Bulgar and Bolsheviki, King, Queen, Countess, Baron, Admiral, all jumbled up in this little rest-house where I am trying to live in peace and privacy. And now comes an act of God called an avalanche! – and we're all trapped together – you and I, Thusis and Clelia, and this beastly Bulgarian with his beak of a bird of prey; and that vulgar Greek King and his vixen of a wife, – Oh, Lord!"

"I'm glad God acted," he said cheerfully.

"You're glad that avalanche fell?"

"Yes; I'm very much relieved."

"Why, in the name of Heaven?"

"It simplifies my duties," he said, smiling. And that's all I got out of him except that he advised me to have nothing to do with this enterprise of Thusis and her sister.

"They'll only get you into mischief," he said. "It's a perfectly crazy scheme. Anyway I think it's nipped in the bud, now."

"If the avalanche hadn't fallen – "

"That makes a difference. But it couldn't have been done anyway. So you'd better not encourage Thusis by enlisting with her as a recruit, Michael. Avalanche or no avalanche it can't be done."

"Smith," said I, "if Thusis needs me I am going to help her bag this brace of kings."

"You are?"

"I am."

"You'll lose your property."

"I can't help that."

Smith glanced up at me curiously: "You are in love, Michael.

"I think I am."

"Don't be."

"What!"

"Don't be in love," he repeated gently. "It isn't any use. It's no good, Michael."

What he said annoyed me and he perceived it.

"Oh Lord," he said wearily, "this is a mess all around. You don't know what a mess it is, Michael. But all I can tell you is, don't fall in love with Thusis! Because it won't do you any good."

"What do you mean? Do you know who Thusis really is?"

"No, I don't. But I do know that it will do you no good to fall in love with her."

"Has it done you any good to fall in love with her sister Clelia?" I retorted sharply.

"Not a particle."

"Then why have you done it?"

He winced but said pleasantly: "I fell in love with her before I realized it. Now I'm falling out of love with her. I'm curing myself… Besides, she cares nothing about me… It will be easier for me to cure myself than for you to recover if you fall in love."

"Thusis will not listen to a serious word from me," said I with sudden bitterness. "I ought to try to cure myself now! … But I don't want to."

"Michael," he said, "the pretty Thusis, also, had better be very careful, because she already is as close to caring for you seriously as it is safe for any young girl to care for a man whom she knows she never is going to marry."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because, although I do not know who Thusis really is, I do know that she is not going to marry you. And I do not believe you will ever see Thusis again after this herd of conspirators leaves Swiss soil."

I thought very hard for a while. Then: "Smith, I have become firmly convinced that Thusis is the original of The Laughing Girl! Find out who she was and you will learn who Thusis is. I'm certain of this. Now who was this Laughing Girl?"

"Nobody knows."

"Have you tried to find out?"

"Yes."

"Did you learn anything at all?"

"Not much."

"What did you learn?"

"That the photographs of The Laughing Girl are not permitted to be sold in Italy."

I looked at him, perplexed. He shrugged his shoulders: "Photographs for sale in European cities," he said, "are usually portraits of celebrities – actresses, demi-mondaines, royalties. Do you suppose Thusis to be one of these?"

"Good heavens!"

"One of the three alternatives is, of course, unthinkable. Your choice would seem to lie, then, between royalty and the drama. But– the photographs of the Italian Royal family are sold everywhere in Italy. So are photographs of pretty actresses. Why is the sale of The Laughing Girl forbidden in Italy?"

"Forbidden? You didn't say that."

"Forbidden," he repeated calmly.

"That's very strange," said I. "What does it signify, Smith?"

"Well, of course, I have my own theory as to that."

"You don't care to discuss it?"

He shook his head.

"No, Michael. But it seems to fit in with my general idea concerning the identity of Thusis."

"And do you, too, believe that Thusis is the original of The Laughing Girl?" I asked.

"I have come to believe so."

"Then," said I, "I shall marry her! I've been in love with that photograph ever since I laid eyes on it, and now, when I've found the original, do you suppose I shall let it go at that? You don't know the O'Ryans!"

He began to laugh, but my excitement was rising.

"I'm going to make love to her," said I. "I'm going to help her bag these kings if she wants them. And when we tie them neck and heels and smuggle them into France and turn them over to a pair of strapping gendarmes I shall enlist with the American forces in France, whether Thusis accepts me for her husband or not. That, Smith, is my unalterable decision and my inflexible programme! And my property in Switzerland can go to the devil!"

"There are," said Smith with a peculiar smile, "two reasons why you should not remain in love with Thusis. One is that she won't marry you."

"What's the other?"

"The other is that she couldn't marry you if she wished to."

There was a short silence, then he went on: "Also there are two reasons why you should not help Thusis to kidnap Tino and Ferdie. One is that she isn't able to."

"What's the other?"

"The other is that —I won't let her."

I felt myself growing red and angry.

"That sounds almost pro-hun," said I.

"It does sound so," he admitted.

"Of course you're not pro-German," I added incredulously.

"Of course not," he rejoined calmly.

"Then – "

"I can't explain. I'm merely warning you not to aid her in this affair."

"Does Thusis know your attitude?"

"No, but she will."

"You are going to tell her?"

"No; but you are."

"I certainly shall," said I, warmly. "And I'd like to know why you are interfering with what she desires to do."

"I can't tell you why, Michael; but I'll tell herwhy – if she asks me."

"You may be very sure that Thusis will ask you, Smith," said I, perplexed to the verge of exasperation by his amazing attitude.

"Suppose you tell her," he said, amused. "All you need do is to repeat this couplet to her:

"Grecian gift and Spanish figHelp the fool his grave to dig!"

"What idiot's jargon is that!" I demanded.

"A jargon that is likely to hold our pretty Thusis for a while. It is a word of warning – a signal of danger used by members of a secret society known as the Ægean League. Also it is likely to start her looking for me. And when she finds me I think she'll listen to reason and renounce this silly and useless attempt to trap royalty wholesale for export purposes. Not," he added gaily, "that I shouldn't expire with laughter to see Raoul and you, for example, take that pair of kings by the slack of the pants and run them Spanish into France. I'd applaud it, old top. I'd give frequent cheers during the process. But Thusis and Clelia mustn't start any such shindy. No! And if they inquire why, just repeat that verse to them and refer them to me."

"Then you are not here to watch these hun conspirators?" I asked in astonishment.

"Only incidentally."

"Do you mean to say that you are here, primarily, to watch Thusis and Clelia?"

"That is exactly why I am here, Michael. And I don't mind your telling them so. I myself was going to tell them. I had intended to break the news to them to-night. But the avalanche makes it unnecessary; they can't get out of this valley with their cartload of kings, now. However, let me suggest that you repeat that couplet to Thusis."

"This," said I, "is a most astounding and disagreeable series of complications. I don't understand them. I don't understand Thusis or you or that bagful of boches downstairs."

"Don't try to, old chap," he said in his friendly way. "And above all, don't break your heart over Thusis. For when the snow that blocks the pass melts, or when somebody digs through, I don't believe you are ever likely to see Thusis again."

His kindly sincerity scared and angered me.

"Watch me!" said I. "An O'Ryan never loves but once. But when he does love – "

"All right, old fellow. Go to it and God help you. They say He has a warm spot in His heart for the Irish."

I nodded, looking at him very seriously: "It's quite impossible," said I, "that she's royal. And if she's an actress I don't care, because I'm so deeply in love with her that I don't know whether I'm afoot or on horseback. And when an O'Ryan feels that way the world is his or he continues on to Heaven."

"Does it really mean Life or Death to you already, Michael?" he asked gravely.

"Life or death, sink or swim, survive or perish, – as some Yankee orator said once. Nothing matters now except Thusis. That's my only reason for living. Yesterday I wanted wealth, to-day my estate can go to the deuce. Yesterday I was a rather sober, decent citizen, perpetrating interior decoration in New York, to-day I figuratively kick the varnish off period furniture, tear down tapestries, smash Chinese pottery, and wipe my feet on the rags of Renaissance! Art is nothing! Thusis is everything. If she wants a few kings to play with, she shall have them. I'll bag them for her. I'll do anything in the world for her. And if that's not enough I'll step off this damned old planet and pull wires aloft for the honor and glory and happiness of the noblest, sweetest, loveliest, most beauti – "

A slight exclamation behind me checked my excited confession.

Slowly turning in my tracks I beheld Thusis at the door in cap and apron.

There was a terrific silence.

Then Thusis, her fair face deeply flushed, dropped us a curtsey.

"Dinner is served, sir," she said faintly. And was gone like a shadow.

XV

A TRAVELING CIRCUS

The royal traveling circus was already seated and whetting its appetite with hors d'oeuvres, when I arrived in the dining-room and, saluting my guests, took my place as host at the head of the long table.

Heaven! What a collection! Being incognito, I was not supposed to be aware of the identity of royalty; but Thusis had seated the ex-queen of Greece on my right and Tino on my left, and, beyond Queen Sophia, she had put the Tsar of all the Bulgars, – with a clean napkin where he had soiled the cover.

The new accessions to this traveling show had, very evidently, decided among themselves the places at table to which they were entitled by precedence of rank. And these they now occupied.

The two Bolsheviki, Leo Puppsky and Isidore Wildkatz, had been relegated to the foot of the table where they sat hunched up and scowling about them until noodle soup presently preoccupied them.

I do not know which one of my guests was the noisiest: the Tsar of all the Bulgars sucked up his soup with the distressingly acute sound of a sick horse drinking; the Princess Pudelstoff lapped and slobbered and wheezed in her slopping plate; but the technique of the Bolsheviki was simple and more effective, being reduced to a primitive, incessant gobbling noise, followed by patient and persistent scraping.

Behind my chair stood Raoul as extemporary butler; Thusis and Clelia in spotless caps and aprons sped lightly hither and thither; while from the depths of the kitchen, Josephine Vannis fed us all with the most delectable dinner which I think I ever tasted.

Ordinary wine being included on my bill of fare, the Tsar guzzled it while his sly eye of a wild pig roved about reading labels on the various bottles of more expensive wine ordered by the others.

The Bolsheviki, having plenty of the Russian people's money, demanded "bowcoo tchimpagne"; King Tino drank goblets of a rather heavy claret; his wife sipped only bottled water, while her cold, steely eyes glittered from guest to guest.

I conversed politely when spoken to; otherwise I made no effort. The Prussian admiral worked his bushy eyebrows and his coarse, fan-shaped beard while munching, but whether in hostility to me or because he was built that way, I did not know, and did not care.

He and Baron von Bummelzug sat all hunched up side by side, gobbling in their whiskers and exchanging Teutonic grunts which seemed to be their substitute for human conversation. Herr Secretary Gizzler, factotum to the Baron, and seated with the Bolsheviki, devastated his plate and seized ravenously upon anything eatable in his vicinity, which presently elicited a chattering protest from Puppsky; and a quarrel rapidly developed until squelched by General Count von Dungheim.

"Silence!" he said angrily: "you make so much noise that it is impossible to hear oneself eat!"

The Princess Pudelstoff nodded violently, balancing a knifeful of mashed potato before committing it to its dreadful destiny:

"They act," she said in English, "like they was never to a high-toned dinner. It's them two Bolsheviks that ain't had a square meal since Hindy licked the Rooshians at the Missouri Lakes."

Leo Puppsky made a violent gesture at her with the leg of a chicken:

"Is that the way to speak of us?" he said to his sister. "And you a Russian and my own sister!"

"Ain't it true?" she asked with a loud laugh. "Get sense, Leo. There won't be nothing to eat in Rooshia so long as you act ugly to Germany – "

"Princess!" interrupted the queen of Greece, sharply.

"That's right," said Tino in a loud, good humored voice; "one doesn't discuss politics while dining. No! One pays strict attention to what one eats and drinks; eh, Sophy?"

The queen ignored him, and he slyly batted one eye at the pretty Countess Manntrapp, his neighbor, and tossed off a brimming goblet of deep red claret.

"Aha!" he said, smacking his lips, "that beats even the wine of Naxos. Did you ever drink Naxos wine, Countess?"

"No," said she; "is it very excellent?"

"Heady, Countess, heady! After you crack one bottle you begin to see the old gods of Greece sitting beside you on pink clouds in their underclothes – "

"Tino!" snapped the Queen.

The Countess laughed. "I'd like to see them." She looked across at me with her fascinating, audacious smile: "Wouldn't you like to drink Naxos wine with me, Mr. O'Ryan, and see the old time gods come down out of the blue sky and sit at table all about you?"

"It seems to me," said I, bowing, "that Aphrodite has already arrived among us mortals."

She laughed, acknowledging the raw compliment, then pursing up her red mouth but uttering no sound she nevertheless formed her question so that I read every word on her mobile lips:

"Do – you – know – anybody – who – would – play – Adonis – to – my – Venus?"

And she laughed her daring little laugh and made me a pretty gesture, intercepted by Ferdinand of Bulgaria who took it for himself and continued to ogle her out of passionate, pig-like eyes until further engrossed in a new relay of food.

It was a dreadful dinner party. Both the kings made life wretched for Clelia and Thusis as they waited on table, slyly pinching them when unobserved until, from Thusis' burning cheeks and trembling hands as she served me, I almost feared she would launch a plate at the royal libertines.

It was a weird company. The Bolsheviki chattered and grabbed at food; all the Germans ate noisily – excepting only the pretty Countess Manntrapp, who had been Lila Shezawitch, and not a Teuton by birth.

Constantine had had more claret than was good for him and now he was pouring into himself countless little glasses of brandy, and was becoming loudly and somewhat coarsely talkative, retailing bits of barrack-room gossip to General Count von Dungheim and cracking dubious jokes with Baron von Bummelzug until his wife spoke to him with such cutting contempt that he winced and relapsed into a half hazy and giggling exchange of whispers with the Countess Manntrapp. As for the Princess Pudelstoff, she had never for one moment ceased stuffing herself. Sweat stood in oily beads on her forehead and cheeks; her fat hands plied knife and fork and spoon without interruption save when she grasped her beer mug in both jeweled hands and drew mighty and noisy draughts from the heavy quart receptacle.

The whole performance at my table was becoming a horrid nightmare to me; I could not see any signs of satiation among these dreadful people – any desire to call it off and quit and retire to their respective sties.

Smith caught my eye and I saw him suppress the smile that twitched his features.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that I had news for the traveling circus that might modify their appetites; and I said, distinctly, and raising my voice sufficiently to command attention from everybody:

"There is some very serious information which I regret that it is necessary to share with everybody here. I did not wish to spoil your appetites. But dinner is over, and I had better speak."

All feeding ceased; everybody stared at me.

"I regret that I am obliged to inform you," I continued, "that the snow field on the south flank of the Bec de l'Empereur, loosened by the warm deluge of rain, has fallen, completely choking the pass which is our only entrance to and exit from this valley."

"An avalanche!" exclaimed the Queen of Greece sharply.

"Yes, madame, a very bad one."

"We are blocked in," she gasped.

"Absolutely."

At that the Princess Pudelstoff uttered a squeak of fright: "We're all going to starve!" she squealed in alarm; "that's what he means! There isn't enough food for us and we'll all die the way they are dying in Rooshia – "

"There's plenty of food," I interrupted.

"Ach, Gott sei dank! Gott sei dank!" she shouted, clapping her pudgy hands and seizing knife and fork again.

But the others were now rising from their seats, exchanging glances full of anxiety and perplexity; and, as I left the room with Smith, I saw them all gathering around the Ex-Queen of Greece as though general consternation had seized them. Only the Princess Pudelstoff remained in her chair, devouring tartlets, her triple chin agitated by a series of convulsive shudders as she bolted sections of pastry too large for her.

Coffee was to be served al fresco; Raoul had set a number of green iron tables and chairs out by the fountain.

"My heavens, Smith," said I, "we should serve them coffee in a common trough. Did you ever before endure such misery at any table?"

"Oh, yes," he said, "I've lived in Germany."

"Well I haven't, and I'm going to skip the demitasse," I rejoined. And I walked around the house and entered the back door where two latticed arbors flanked the stone walk.

Here I seated myself and lighted a cigarette, still unnerved by the martyrdom of that dinner table.

It was quiet and peaceful in the sunset light under my roof of curly grape leaves where sun spots glowed amid the tender green and two little active birds climbed busily and silently about the foliage in search of aphids.

I had been sitting there for ten minutes, perhaps, when the door opened behind me and Thusis appeared with coffee. Her lovely features still were tinged with the rosy glow of recent wrath; her gray eyes were still brilliant with the same emotion.

"Coffee, if you please, sir?" she said crisply.

I had risen, smiling.

"You need not have taken so much trouble, Thusis – "

"Pardon. It is what servants are hired for."

"Why do you keep up this masquerade with me?" I asked, laughingly, taking the cup from the tray.

But Thusis seemed to be in no pleasant humor, and she turned to go without answering.

"Thusis!"

She halted.

"I'm sorry those beastly kings annoyed you at table – "

"They're men," she retorted angrily. "What can a woman expect?"

"Do you think that is fair to me, Thusis, to lump me with men in general?"

"I don't know what's fair to you. And I'm really not very particular about it. Little chance that men ever suffer too much from being misunderstood in this world."

"You are amazingly unjust, do you realize it?"

"I'm not sure that I am," she said sullenly. "You made your début by trying to kiss your own cook. Tino is coarser, he pinches; Ferdie the furtive, pushes one with his knees and rolls wild eyes at one. There are three masculine examples. Take your choice, Monsieur," she added, going.

"Wait!"

She turned haughtily, her gray eyes suddenly insolent.

"Because you are hurt and offended and humiliated by a pair of scoundrels," said I, "is no reason why you should visit your displeasure on me."

"I make no difference in men."

"Not even in the man who is in love with you?"

"Love? Love!" She laughed, not agreeably. "I am not flattered, Monsieur, to have offered to me the same adoration which you were quite willing to bestow upon your cook. I tell you all men arealike! – including the Pharisee."

"Do you mean me?"

"Haven't you practically just thanked God you are not like other men?"

"What have I done to deserve this, Thusis? I'm trying to be patient – "

"You don't need to be. Heaven deliver me from a patient man!"

Then I blew up: "You listen to me, you little idiot," I said in a low, enraged tone; "I'm in love with you and you can't help it whatever you choose to do about it. You came here as a servant and I fell in love with you as a servant. You are probably something else – God knows what – and I'm more in love than ever with God-knows-what! I don't care what you are, servant, bourgeoise, actress, princess, or demi-mondaine – "

"What!"

"I tell you I wouldn't care. I love you. I want to marry you – "

"Marry me if I were – a demi – "

"Yes!" I said violently; "yes! yes! yes! It's too late to have whatever you are make any difference to me. I'm an O'Ryan and I love only once."

"Do you suppose I'm flattered by what you've just shouted at me? You'd marry me – or you'd do the same for a demi – "