Microbes of Power (Wallace of the Secret Service Series) (16 page)

‘Very,’ returned Shannon soberly.

They stood silent for some moments; then she took his arm.

‘Come!’ she bade him reluctantly. ‘We must leave the things that are sublime, and discuss matters that are sordid. I wish it could be otherwise, for, after thinking of things of such great nobility and purity, it is like a sacrilege to speak of – those others. Standing there has made me feel very much sad, Captain Shannon, because of the cruel and wicked things I have done. Come!’

They walked away quietly together until they came to a vacant
seat standing alone amidst the trees. There they sat side by side, each feeling that in some subtle manner a camaraderie had been born between them.

‘You are quite sure you have not been followed?’ he asked.

‘I am certain,’ she assured him. ‘I took precautions of the most vigilant. And now what have you to tell me? Can I hope that perhaps you have decided to help me?’

He looked at her to find her great eyes fixed anxiously on his face. He smiled, and nodded.

‘Yes, Miss Ictinos,’ he told her, ‘I have resolved to do all I can to help you. It is fortunate,’ he added, feeling a trifle ashamed, but showing nothing of his inner thoughts in his face, ‘that my duties in Rome are not onerous, and will allow me to devote practically all my time, for the present at least, to your service.’

She gave a little cry of pleasure, which sounded thoroughly genuine.

‘But this is wonderful!’ she exclaimed. ‘I did not hope for so much. You trust me then, and we are to be comrades?’

‘Comrades by all means,’ he rejoined, ‘and I think that even my suspicious nature is lulled to sleep as far as you are concerned.’

‘God be praised!’ she cried fervently. ‘I am indeed fortunate beyond my deserts. Tell me: have you thought of a way by which we can find out what those men are plotting?’

‘Do you think it would be possible for us to insert a microphone in the room which is used most for their discussions?’

Remembrance of the manner in which the agents of Plasiras and Bikelas had endeavoured to obtain information from the Colonial Office had recurred to him on the previous night. It would be rather apt, he thought, if he could return the compliment. She frowned a little.

‘A microphone!’ she repeated. ‘Even if it were possible to put in place such an instrument, how could you or I listen to what was happening?’

‘That would be the least difficult part of the undertaking. Tell me how the flats are situated.’

She gave him the information which he had already obtained from Hill.

‘At the end of the hall on the second floor is another flat,’ she added, ‘which I thought perhaps you might occupy, but today it has been let.’

‘Do you know who has taken it? Is he someone connected with your people?’

She shook her head.

‘I only know that he is an Austrian gentleman by the name of Herr Kirche,’ she replied. ‘I am quite certain he is not known to the men I am observing. In fact, I heard Monsieur Kyprianos grumble about his coming. He said it was a great pity that a stranger should have come to live there, and that they would have been better advised to have rented that suite of rooms as well. You see, Monsieur Shannon, the rooms occupied by General Radoloff and Messieurs Kyprianos, and Michalis are opposite those of Messieurs Doreff and Plasiras. The flat of the Austrian gentleman is at the end of the hall adjoining both. It might have been very useful for you.’

Shannon nodded.

‘Perhaps it would have been,’ he agreed; ‘yet I think, after all, it would be better if I did not live there, I do not wish to be seen particularly. Have you met the Austrian?’

‘No, but no doubt I will. You are interested in him?’

‘I am interested in everyone in that part of the building. Of
course, you do not know which room is most likely to be used for conferences; that is hardly to be expected.’

‘But I do,’ she cried triumphantly. ‘All the time my ears are very wide open—’

‘They are not very big,’ he commented, glancing appreciatively at the one little shell-like appendage within his view.

She laughed.

‘Not very big – no, but they hear well,’ she declared. ‘I learnt through these ears that are not big that the room of Monsieur Kyprianos is the one chosen for the discussions they will have. The bed has been removed, and in its place has been put a chair which becomes a bed at night. The room is now being fitted like a laboratory.’

‘H’m! They’re wasting no time. Did Kyprianos receive the case of which you told me?’

‘He obtained the permit yesterday through the influence of Signor Bruno. This afternoon the boat arrived from Naples, and he went with the two secretaries to obtain the box.’

‘I see. I suppose you haven’t been able to obtain a glimpse of Kyprianos’ apartment?’

‘No, but mine is directly underneath, and I believe is the same.’

‘Is it, by Jove! Then, Miss Ictinos, I think I see a way.’

‘Do you?’ she asked excitedly. ‘Please tell me! But, first, would it not be nicer for you to call me Thalia now we are comrades?’

He smiled.

‘Thalia it shall be,’ he agreed. ‘My name is Hugh.’

‘I know. I heard that it was when – but I wish to forget that time. Will you please continue – Hugh.’

‘My idea all depends on the size of your fireplace and chimney. Is it one of the large kind one sees in so many houses in Rome?’

‘Yes; it is very big, and very ornamental.’

‘Good. Then tonight at midnight I will come to the building, if you will give me the address. Will you meet me outside, in order that I may know if the way is clear, and lead me to your room?’

She looked quickly at him in a half-startled fashion.

‘Lead you to my room!’ she echoed.

‘Yes; you’re not afraid of me, are you, Thalia?’

She laughed.

‘But no; of course I am not. But why do you wish to enter my room?’

‘I will bring with me a microphone and connections. Once in your room, I shall climb up the chimney, and fix the microphone in position adjacent to the room of Kyprianos. Then you and sometimes I will be able to listen to the conversation.’

‘How splendid!’ she cried; then looked him up and down dubiously. ‘But I doubt very much that you can climb up even that wide chimney – you are so big.’

‘I think I can manage. If not, we shall have to think of some other way. Will there be much risk to you in admitting me?’

‘We cannot bother about the risk,’ she retorted. ‘Entering from the outside hall there is a passage. The sitting room, which is also a dining room, if it is necessary, comes first; then is my bedroom. Beyond it is the room occupied by Madame and Monsieur – a very large room that. At the end of the little corridor is the apartment of the secretary, and next to it the bathroom. To come to you I will not have to pass by the other rooms, you will see, so there is not so much danger as there would be, if mine were at the end.’

‘Is there a hall porter?’

‘Yes; but only in the daytime. At night his little glass room is empty.’

‘You are sure of that?’

‘But certainly. Did I not pass by last night? It was locked up.’

‘Everything seems to be arranged to suit my purpose,’ he commented. ‘Then tonight at midnight! If you do not come to me, I will conclude there is danger, but I will wait for an hour. If you have not come by one o’clock, I will go away, and return again tomorrow night. Is that understood?’

‘Yes; I will come, unless they are about and make it impossible.’

‘You must not take any risks. Remember that everything depends on your remaining unsuspected, besides we must ensure that you do not run into danger.’

‘That is nothing,’ she remarked simply, ‘so long as my country does not suffer.’

He made a note of her address, though, of course, he already knew it. Then they parted. He watched her as she walked away, her elegance once again charming him. Every movement Thalia Ictinos made was graceful, and yet all were eminently natural. There was nothing studied or artificial about her at all, a fact which undeniably added to her charm. Shannon found it increasingly difficult to realise that she was the same girl who had taken a delight in keeping his colleague Cousins chained to a wall, and had heaped humiliations upon him. It seemed ridiculous to think of the Thalia Ictinos who had just left him as the same Thalia Ictinos who had apparently been so entirely cruel-minded and callous. He came to the conclusion that she had spoken nothing but the truth in attributing her character, as he had previously known it, to the influence of her father. In her was undoubtedly a streak of the ruthlessness and cruelty of her parent, who had taken care to nourish and sustain it. Freed from his sway, she had reverted to her real self, the self Shannon
had discovered in this new acquaintance with her. He began to feel sure of her; yet his natural caution, and the great issues which depended so much on him, compelled him to remain on his guard. If he had been helping her, as he firmly believed she thought, simply because she had appealed to him, it is certain that he would by then have cast all prejudices against her finally aside, and entered into his association with her eagerly and wholeheartedly.

He left the Pincio and, walking along until he came to the famous Spanish stairs, glowing warmly yellow in the dying light, descended the hundred and thirty-seven to the Piazza di Spagna below. The flower-sellers had not yet left their stations, and the whole place looked a mass of blossoms. Here and there still lingered a few artists’ models, hopeful of obtaining employment for the morrow, the men conspicuous by their picturesque hair and of course, the inevitable umbrellas. Shannon went on until he came to the Rome agency of the famous Parisian firm of
Lalére et Cie,
whose perfumes are world famous. It was beyond business hours, and most of the employees had departed, but the manager, an Englishman of the name of Tempest, was still on the premises. Shannon announced that he wished to see him about an order he had recently given, and sent in his name. Almost at once he was shown into the agent’s sanctum. A tall, keen-eyed man rose and greeted him.

‘What can I do for you, Shannon?’ he asked.

The burly Secret Service man glanced round the cosy office.

‘Are we quite safe here?’ he asked.

‘Perfectly. This room, as I think you know, has been constructed with a main regard to my principal object in being in Rome. Have a cigarette?’

‘Thanks. Well, Tempest, old boy, I want a microphone, and extra long connections. And I want it before eleven tonight. Can do?’

Tempest nodded.

‘Yes, I think I can manage that OK. What’s going on? Anything in my line?’

Shannon grinned.

‘His eyes gleamed with the blood lust, he sniffed the air as though scenting battle from afar. That about describes you, my lad.’

‘Are you quoting from something?’ asked Tempest suspiciously.

‘Heaven forbid. I leave that sort of thing to Cousins. It sounds like a quotation, though, doesn’t it?’

‘It does. Last time Cousins was in here he spouted reams of quotations until my brain had become a kind of poetical cocktail, in which the chief ingredients were spirits of Shelley, essence of Keats, a few drops of Byron and Tennyson, and bitters of Pope.’

Shannon laughed.

‘That’s about how the old lad makes me feel.’

‘Well, you haven’t told me,’ persisted Tempest. ‘Is there anything doing in my line?’

‘No, my boy; do you think I dare drag a respectable agent of
Lalére et Cie
into my sordid affairs? You supply the microphone, that’s your pidgin.’

‘I am growing fat and lazy running this show,’ complained the other. ‘I wish Sir Leonard would give me a chance to show my paces.’

Shannon eyed his spare, lean form and chuckled.

‘I am glad you told me you were growing fat,’ he commented. ‘Concerning your second remark, it seems to me you’ve shown your paces often enough. You have one priceless gift which I wish
I possessed; I mean your ability to lip-read. Perhaps I may need to make use of it before I’m through with this business. Listen, and I’ll put you wise.’

He spoke earnestly for nearly half an hour, the interested Tempest listening without interruption; then Shannon rose to depart.

‘That’s that,’ he remarked finally. ‘If Hill and I disappear you’ll know where to direct whoever comes after us to commence investigations. How will you send along the microphone?’

‘In a box, well labelled,’ grinned Tempest. ‘Everyone will think you’re giving your best girl a specially large present. How is Mrs Shannon by the way?’

‘Fine. Well, cheer-ho, old son. Don’t forget – the Splendide, room one, two, four!’

They shook hands, and Shannon walked out. Although the actual name of the firm of
Lalére et Cie
is slightly different, the great and prosperous business exists. Its headquarters is in Paris, from where it is directed by the genial Monsieur Lalére himself. It has branches or agencies in all the big capitals, and the managers and agents have their offices, attend to the business affairs which grow greater year by year, and draw their salaries. But it was originally founded by money supplied by Sir Leonard Wallace, and the ladies and gentlemen who represent it are members of the British Secret Service.

A box, well pasted with labels, on which the name of
Lalére et Cie
stood out in bold letters, duly arrived at the Hotel Splendide addressed to Shannon. It was taken to him by a smart pageboy, who smiled knowingly as he handed it in. Inside was the microphone, carefully wrapped up, with connections, which the Secret Service man was satisfied were amply long for his purpose. A pair of
headphones completed the equipment. At the bottom of the box was a large bottle of scent of a kind much favoured by his wife, with a card attached bearing Tempest’s name and the written message: ‘With compliments to Mrs Shannon.’ Hugh smiled at the thought which had prompted the gift.

‘Good old Tempest,’ he murmured, ‘bully for you. And now to wait for the witching hour.’

Thalia Ictinos returned home after her meeting with Shannon, and entered the main doors of the great elegant building in the Ludovisi quarter, quite unaware that Fate in the person of a blue eyed, boyish-looking man with fair hair and a jolly face was awaiting her there. She was walking towards the stairs, thinking it was hardly worthwhile going to the first floor in an elevator, when she heard hurried steps descending; looked up to see the immaculately-dressed man of whom she had thought more than once since the night before. He stopped two steps from the bottom; she stood where she was, and gradually a vivid blush stole up from her peerless neck until it had suffused her face. Hill’s heart gave a great bound within him. He did not know much about women, but surely, he thought, that blush meant something in the face of a girl who looked as though blushing were not a habit with her. He took off his hat, which had previously shaded his eyes, and Thalia recognised in them something that spoke directly to her heart, something that she could not mistake.

‘Signor!’ she faltered.

‘Signorina,’ he returned in unsteady, husky tones, ‘this is wonderful! It seems that we are fated to meet on stairs, though you are not actually standing on them. Ever since last night I have thought of you as “My lady of the stairs”.’

‘That is nice of you, signor,’ she replied, smiling gloriously at him.

‘It is nice of you,’ he corrected gently, ‘not to be angry with me for my presumption in daring to think of you under such a title.’

‘Why should I be angry?’ she asked. ‘Perhaps I, too, have thought with amusement of the manner in which you and I strove to pass, and could not.’

‘With amusement only?’ he queried, a note of reproach in his voice.

‘Were you not amused?’

‘I was angry with myself for my clumsiness. Yet, if I had not been clumsy, I should not have had the delight of hearing your voice.’ He came down the remaining steps; stood facing her. ‘The memory of it has remained with me ever since,’ he told her. ‘I think stairs will always be associated in my mind with what was a wonderful experience to me.’

She laughed softly. The blush had gone now, leaving her satiny skin looking whiter, more alabaster-like than ever.

‘And now,’ she commented, ‘that experience has been nearly repeated, but perhaps it is not so wonderful this time.’

‘If possible, it is more wonderful,’ he breathed.

‘You have the trick of making compliments like an Italian,’ she remarked, ‘but I do not think you are an Italian. Am I not right?’

‘I am an Austrian, signorina. May I present myself? My name is Kirche – Raymond Kirche.’

‘I am very pleased to know you, Herr Kirche,’ came quickly from her in perfect German. ‘I am Thalia Ictinos, and I am of Greek blood.’ He bowed. A sudden light of understanding flashed into her eyes. ‘Are you the gentleman,’ she asked, ‘who has today taken the vacant flat on the second floor?’

‘I am, Fraulein.’

‘But how extraordinary it is. I – I mean,’ she added in dainty confusion, ‘it is strange, is it not? That last night we should meet on the stairs of the Hotel Splendide, and today you rent a flat in the building where I live.’

Hill’s eyes were lowered. He hated himself for the lie he was about to tell her. Better that, however, for everybody’s sake, than that she should grow suspicious of him.

‘Signorina,’ he confessed, reverting to Italian, ‘I fear that there is much I am about to beg you to forgive. Perhaps you will not be able to find it in your heart to forgive, but I should hate myself, if I were not honest with you.’

How he wished he were in a position to be really honest with her! This second meeting had consolidated already the love he felt for her. At that moment he was in peril of risking all by a declaration from his heart of the whole truth. He mastered his inclinations with a great effort. His words had startled her a little. He looked up to find her great slate-blue eyes gazing at him with something approaching trepidation.

‘I do not understand,’ she murmured. ‘What can I have to forgive you, when you and I are strangers?’

‘Were strangers, signorina,’ he corrected. ‘I hope that that word can, after this, never be applied to us again. Last night I knew that I could not feel any peace unless I met you once more, at least. I took the unpardonable liberty of following you. I found that you
lived here. This morning I went to the agent, and enquired about flats in this building. To my joy, I found there were several. I took the vacant one on the second floor. I wished so much to be near you. Signorina, I beg of you not to be angry with me because of my presumption. Will you forgive me, and grant me the great privilege of your friendship?’

Thalia was thoroughly startled now; not only that, but he thought to see the shadow of fear in her eyes. Possibly, he reflected, she was worried at the idea that she had been thus followed from the Hotel Splendide, when she had taken precautions to avoid such a contingency. Also it was likely that she feared his coming would be misunderstood by her companions. If she had been honest with Shannon, she might anticipate that Hill would be regarded with suspicion by the people she had asserted she was watching, and any association with him bring danger on her. Whatever was in her thoughts, the startled look presently passed away, and she favoured him with one of her glorious smiles.

‘I suppose,’ she pronounced, ‘that I really should be very angry with you, but, as you have been so candid with me, I do not think I can be.’ He commenced to speak, but she raised a gloved hand with a little imperious gesture. ‘I am flattered, signor, that I should have made such an impression on you that you desired to be near me. Alas! I fear, however, that friendship between us is impossible.’

‘Oh, but why?’ he demanded.

‘I am not my own mistress, otherwise I should be honoured. I also will be frank. I know you to be a gentleman – I think I am a good judge – and your interest in me to be due to no ignoble motives. If circumstances were different, it would give me much pleasure to accept your friendship, and give you mine. But I am merely the companion to a lady who is staying here.’

‘What does that matter?’ he asked eagerly. ‘It makes no difference to me what you are.’

‘What would you say, if I told you I was a scheming, perhaps wicked woman, who had been mixed up in sordid intrigue, even in crime?’

‘I would say that you were either not being truthful, or that you were not responsible for being concerned in anything of a sordid nature. I would swear that your character was pure, even if circumstances proved the reverse.’

Her eyes glistened. He wondered if the tears were near; then the music of her laugh floated round the hall.

‘You are very daring to take me on trust in such a manner,’ she observed lightly.

‘Am I not asking you to take me on trust?’ he demurred.

She shook her head.

‘I do not mistake integrity when I see it so openly before my eyes,’ she contended. ‘But we are talking like old friends not new acquaintances. I must go, Signor Kirche.’

‘And is that friendship, for which I ask, quite impossible?’

‘I do not know – I fear it is,’ she replied in troubled tones. ‘You must let me think. There are other circumstances, besides my employment, which may prevent it. I will talk to my employer about this ardent, young man who has come so suddenly into my life.’

Her smile, as she made the last remark, was full of a tenderness he found irresistible.

‘I pray,’ he murmured, ‘that I may stay in your life.’

‘Hush!’ she chided. ‘For an Austrian you are very impetuous, my friend. Has the air of Italy already had its influence on you?’

‘Not the air of Italy, signorina, but a daughter of Greece who is ornamenting the Eternal City.’

‘You must not say things like that. Rome is noble, sublime. To speak of me in such a manner is desecration to this wonderful city.’ She made as though to pass on, but he stayed her. ‘Please let me go. I must not stop here.’

‘Can you not give me hope that you and I will be friends?’ he urged.

‘I have told you, I must think. Afterwards I will tell you. Sometime we will meet.’

‘Sometime!’ he echoed in dismay. ‘That sounds dreadful. Please make it more definite than that.’

‘Very well,’ she smiled. ‘Tomorrow morning at eleven I will walk on the terrace of the Pincio. Perhaps Signor Kirche may also be there – who knows? If so, it is possible we may meet.’

His eyes shone, a happy smile lighted up a face that had been gloomy far longer than was its habit.

‘I will live for tomorrow morning, Signorina Ictinos,’ he vowed.

‘There is one thing I must ask you,’ she whispered seriously. ‘You are a man of honour; you will promise me. Please do not at any time mention to a soul that we first met on the stairs at the Hotel Splendide. Let it be thought, if you wish, that we first met here and today. Will you promise this to me?’

‘Assuredly, signorina; you have my word.’

‘You do not wish to know why I ask this?’

‘It is not my business.’

‘Thank you very much, signor. I am very grateful.’

‘You have no objection to my remembering in my secret heart that it was on the stairs of the Splendide that we met?’

She smiled.

‘I cannot prevent your doing that, can I? I also will never forget it – in my secret heart,’ she added in a murmur that was the sweetest of music to his ears.

She passed on, and he watched her go, his very soul in his eyes for all the world to see. At the top of the great staircase she bent over the banisters, and smiled down at him. He turned rather like a man bemused to walk out of the building; found the caretaker in his little glass enclosed nook regarding him with a broad smile.

‘The signorina is very beautiful,’ the man observed as Hill approached.

‘She is perfect!’ declared the young man with ardent emphasis. ‘The most wonderful of women.’

‘Ah! I think that the signor has something of the warmth of Italy in his blood.’

Hill passed on. He almost felt that the doorkeeper was right. Thalia had roused in him an ardour and élan that he would, at one time, have considered foreign to his nature.

It was exactly midnight, when Hugh Shannon, carrying a parcel, and attired in a dark suit with a soft hat pulled well down over his eyes, arrived in the vicinity of the building wherein he felt so much that was mysterious and sinister was going on. It was a dark night, but the road was well-lighted, while a glow of illumination was diffused before the entrance by an artistic electric lamp. He had not long to wait. A figure emerged from the half-open door, and flitted like a shadow towards where he had taken up his stand.

‘I saw you pass under one of the lights, Hugh,’ whispered Thalia. ‘Come quickly; all is well at the moment, but, if we delay, there may be interruptions.’

He followed her without a word, both of them taking care to avoid the light as much as possible. They crept into the dimly-lit hall, she preceding him to make certain there was no one about. A pause of a few seconds occupied in listening, and they ascended the broad, artistic staircase. At the top she bade him wait a little while,
and left him. In a few moments she was back and, taking him by the hand, led him to a door standing ajar. Pushing it open, they entered, and he found himself in a well-lit but narrow corridor. Almost opposite was a room into which she quickly guided him. He glanced appreciatively round the dainty apartment, which, though she had occupied it for so short a time, seemed to contain the indefinable atmosphere of her personality. She closed and locked the door, sighing her relief.

‘It was a little trying to the nerves,’ she confessed in a whisper. ‘Please remember to speak in a very low voice, for beyond that wall is the room of Monsieur and Madame Bikelas. Madame is, I think, yet awake.’

‘Awake!’ he murmured. ‘Wasn’t it rather risky to fetch me under the circumstances?’

She shrugged her shoulders which gleamed entrancingly under the glare of the electricity. She was clothed in a lace evening gown of aquamarine blue which suited her to perfection; over one arm she carried a black Spanish shawl; a diamond necklace that must have been very valuable hung round her neck. As usual her almost blue-black glossy hair was brushed lightly back, displaying her little white ears, in each of which shone a diamond. If possible she looked more alluring, more captivating than ever.

‘I had no choice,’ she told him. ‘A party of us went to the opera. Afterwards the men went together to the room of Kyprianos. They may be there for a very long time. I think tonight they have a most important conference. I heard Monsieur Bikelas inform Madame that he would be late, and she must go to bed. If I had waited, the danger would increase, for at any time he and his secretary might come down. I thought it would be safer for you to come while only Madame was here.’

He nodded.

‘You are right.’ He smiled at her. It seemed to him that there was something different about her. The slight suggestion of hardness in her face was gone completely. He thought to see a new gentleness there that he had certainly not noticed before. ‘Thalia,’ he told her candidly, ‘you look bewitching tonight. You are always beautiful, but tonight you are more wonderful than ever.’

She smiled up at him gladly.

‘Perhaps it is that I am very happy,’ she murmured. ‘Something has come into my heart that I do not understand, but it is very nice. It makes me feel – oh, I cannot explain, and I must not think of it, because of the duty which must occupy all my attention. You have the microphone in that parcel?’

Shannon nodded, and proceeded to unwrap it, wondering all the time what it was that had come into her heart that had made her very happy, and which she did not understand.

‘Did your gallant cavalier, General Radoloff, accompany you to the opera?’ he asked.

She made a sound expressive of disgust.

‘Yes; and tonight I found his attentions most distasteful to me. Before, I did not mind very much, but all seemed so different tonight. I think he is a beast, that man. All the time he bends over me, and looks at me with eyes that seem to gloat, as though I were a very choice morsel of food that he was about to eat. I know what it is he is thinking, and it is not nice, my friend. Tonight I felt that his presence – what is it I wish to say?’