Chapter XXV: Double Cunning

Among his letters next morning Seton Darville opened one from his office containing copies of two letters, one written by Edris from Stagsden on the previous day to Karl in Switzerland, and the other written by the man who had betrayed his friendship.

Edris’s letter breathed an undying devotion, and told her lover that, to her delight, Darville was leaving Stagsden.

The letter from Karl contained a revelation in the sentence: “As you so earnestly desire to see me again, darling, before I sail for Canada, I intend to come to London on the 20th. I shall be ten days or more in London. So get rid of old Darville, who is old enough to be your father, and let us enjoy some further glorious days together. I will tell you by what train I will arrive, so will you get me a room at an hotel, and meet me? I am longing to see your dear face and kiss your sweet lips again. Now that we are engaged, you must cut yourself adrift from Darville! I insist upon it. He shall not come between us--otherwise it will be the worse for him!”

Seton gritted his teeth as he read the lines. “What consummate mendacity; what treachery; what base intrigue!” he cried aloud. “But two can play at the same game--you swine! And I shall win, never fear!” He gave vent to a hollow laugh quite unusual to him.

Karl’s knavery, assisted by the duplicity of the girl who, in ignorance of Seton’s knowledge, was still posing as his fiancée and making pretense of strong affection, had staggered him. The true, honest nature of his own second self, apart from that marvelous tact and cunning with which he conducted Britain’s Secret Service, revolted against such low cunning as that low-born Swiss had displayed. He knew that he had already lost Edris, and now his mind was bent upon a swift and terrible revenge.

The events of the previous night, his interview with Elaine, and their tragic parting, crowded upon him while he dressed, and he was himself astounded at the self-possession he had displayed. Elaine had tempted him at the very moment when he had discovered Edris’s perfidy. True, his great love for Edris had been put to the test, and as he went along the corridor to meet her for breakfast, he was amazed at his own strength of will.

Edris met him, as usual, with a sweet, entrancing smile. She wore a smart frock, and with her friend Mrs. Hatherley, equally smart, chatted over the breakfast-table.

“What time did you come in last night, Seti?” inquired the girl.

“Oh, about two,” he replied. “There was quite a crowd of people I knew, including Elaine, so I stayed on. I knew you’d be back, and in bed, after the theater.”

He saw that Edris wanted to be alone with him, so, when they rose from the table, in order to escape Mrs. Hatherley, who was a charming young woman and a great friend of Edris’s, he made excuse, and a few minutes later she came into his room.

“Oh, Seti!” she cried. “Before I went down to breakfast I had such good news. A telegram from Karl says he is coming on Wednesday to London because a good berth has been offered him. I wonder what it is. Do you know anything about it?”

“How should I? He was employed by an International Commission in Germany, so I suppose the offer may come from them. Well, Edris, much as I object to your association with that man, I hope he may be successful in getting the job,” he said grimly. “And now let us talk of something else, darling.”

“Really, dearest, you are awfully kind to me after your unfounded suspicions concerning Karl,” she said. “You know I love you; that you are my great and wonderful lover. You need not fear Karl coming to London. I would like to go and meet him, but if you forbid it, then I am in your hands.”

Her arms were entwined about his neck. Her enticing feminine wiles were wonderful, her artfulness and subterfuge marvelous. Were he not possessed of that secret information he held he would have believed her words. But in view of his knowledge they stifled him.

He felt inclined to curse her and uphold her to ridicule. On the contrary, however, he placed both hands upon her shoulders, and, looking straight into her gray eyes, asked:

“Tell me the truth, Carina. Do you really love me, or is all this a mere hollow pretense?”

He saw her face change instantly.

“I--I really love you,” she faltered. “Have I not told you so a hundred times? Cannot you believe me, darling?”

He drew a long breath as he looked straight into her pretty face, and then, smiling doubtfully, he sighed, “I suppose I must.”

Next day he accompanied her back to Stagsden, but he perceived that all her thoughts were of the man she was longing to meet at Victoria on Wednesday night. He smiled within himself when he thought how quickly and secretly his hidden hand would send his rival to his doom in Russia. He knew the man to be boastful and arrogant, fond of relating his own deeds of daring--fictitious, of course--to the women whom he could so easily fascinate. The secret inquiries he had made concerning him showed him to be of that shallow, unstable type of foreigner, devoid of any of those good qualities which the average hard-working Swiss possesses. Darville could only think, from the daily letters he received so full of poetic affection, that he was fascinating Edris against her will. Indeed, the girl’s letters in reply had now become briefer, and contained less passion.

She had written in secret to him daily--though she assured him that she did not write--and the gardener posted her letters in secret. This, however, did not trouble him, for ere her letters left London the copies reached him through Bennett, who naturally believed they had something to do with some enemy plot.

“I suppose you are looking forward to meeting Karl in London?” he asked her suddenly on the second night that he was back at the fine country mansion and they were sitting in the firelight alone after tea.

“No, not exactly,” was her reply. Then she rose, and, crossing to his chair, sank upon the floor and placed her head against his knee, an attitude she often assumed when they were alone. “I did not expect him. I thought he would sail from Cherbourg. I--I didn’t want to meet him again.”

“That’s very strange,” he remarked, rather indifferently.

“Why? I love you--and only you!”

He did not reply. She looked up into his face, and then, in the fitful light of the fire, saw a hard, determined look such as she had never seen there before.

“What’s the matter, Seti?” she asked in her cajoling way, taking his hand and kissing it.

In an instant he withdrew it, as though he had been stung, and, rising, said:

“Edris, I’ll tell you what is the matter. You are lying to me!”

“Lying! What do you mean?” she asked indignantly.

“I mean that ever since that day at Interlaken station when you met Karl Weiss you have deceived me--_deceived me until this very moment!_”

“I love you!” she cried, her face pale as she sprang towards him. But he threw her off, and in a cold, hard voice replied:

“Lies flow from your lips like water, Edris! I know the truth! I know everything! On the night you left Interlaken you threw me over, and became engaged in secret to Karl Weiss. Deny it if you can!”

She stood open-mouthed, her face blanched, her hands trembling. She was aghast. She tried to speak, to protest, but was unable to articulate.

He knew the truth!

“Ah! You, who have all along pretended to love me, are engaged to that man,” he said. “In your beautiful love-letters to him you have said hard things about me, and he, in his replies to you, has jeered at me on account of my age, and poisoned your mind against me. It was you who urged him to come to London to see you--because you are infatuated with him. I have known everything from the very first, and I have kept my silence until now! Go to him on Wednesday! I, too, shall go to London to-morrow, and----”

“You’ve been reading my letters!” she managed to gasp in dismay.

“Yes, I have! And I had you watched when you met the fellow in Interlaken. When you returned I knew you were not telling me the truth,” he said bitterly. “All along I have watched you, and I knew that you were betraying and deceiving me. I warned you in Wengen that you were playing with fire, but you, who swore to me that no man should ever come between us, were already fascinated by the man whom I foolishly thought to be my friend. Well,” he went on in a broken voice, after a pause, “you shall go to your lover, and I will go out of your life. But when you see him, tell him from me that I know the extent of the base deceit of you both, and----”

“But you won’t leave me, Seti!” she cried in an agonized voice. “I do love you. I swear that I do!” And she clung to him.

Then, sinking to the ground, she clutched his legs convulsively, beseeching his forgiveness.

“You can’t leave me!” she cried, sobbing. “You are mine--Seti--my wonderful lover! What I have told you is true--true! I swear it! I love you!”

But Darville shook his head. In his grief-stricken eyes stood a look of blank, unutterable despair, and she saw that her deceit had sunk too deep into his heart.

“I don’t believe you, Edris,” he said slowly in a low, hoarse voice. “You cannot love me when you are engaged to another.”

“But I do love you, darling. I swear that I do.”

Seton laughed contemptuously, saying:

“Please do not insult my intelligence further. How can you have the audacity to tell me that you have a single spark of affection for me after those letters you have written to your lover? Recall what he said about me, and how you never contradicted him--the abominable and insulting things he wrote concerning me. And you actually asked me to obtain employment for him! Ah, it is all a terrible tragedy for me! You have been false ever since that accursed day when we set foot in Switzerland. And I loved you, Edris,” he added in a tense whisper. “I loved you. But you have trodden my affection under your feet and become fascinated by a man who, judged by his past, is utterly unworthy of you!”

“Yes, Seti. I know I’ve been a rotter to deceive you. But how can I explain?”

“How can you explain the reason of your conduct towards me? I am glad you admit your double dealing!” he said in a hard tone. “I hope you are ashamed of yourself. When I have gone to-morrow you will, perhaps, reflect upon the suffering you have caused me--how I have lived in hell these many weeks, loving you as devotedly as I have done, and knowing that you were no longer mine, in spite of your kisses and false pretense. Your kisses have nauseated me. Your very presence has become repugnant to me, and your----”

“Seti, forgive me!” she cried in an agonized voice. “Let me try and explain,” she went on as she clung to him. “I know you won’t believe me, but I will tell you the truth--now----”

“Thanks, I don’t wish to hear the truth,” he said, his sympathetic heart having now been turned to stone. “I’m sorry, but I can’t believe you, whatever you may say, or whatever excuse you may make.”

She held her breath, realizing that all his confidence in her had gone. Little wonder was it, after all.

She threw out her arms with a despairing gesture and cried:

“Seti, I love you! Think what you may of my behavior, I swear that I still love you. I’ve acted damnably towards you, I know. But one day, when you hear and know the truth, you will pity me--even though you cannot forgive.”

Seton Darville gazed at her tearful countenance, lit only by the flames of the great wood fire, and remained silent. He still loved her to distraction, but with the secret knowledge he held, he could not bring himself to accept any protestation of affection as the truth.

She had urged Karl to come to England, a fact which in itself showed that she loved him.

He was coming to London where, all unconscious of the fate in store for him, he would be sent to his doom.