The Pawns Count Part 45

"Oh, I can a.s.sure you that I am not prejudiced," Pamela declared, "only, you see, I, too, have just arrived from the other side, and I have been able to use my own eyes and judgment. If there is any prejudice in the matter, why should it not come from Mr. Fischer? He has the very good excuse of his German birth."

"Mr. Fischer is an American citizen," Mrs. Hastings reminded her niece, "and personally, I think that the American of German birth is one of the most loyal and long-suffering persons I know. I cannot say as much for the English people who are living over here. And as to fairy stories--"

Pamela intervened, turning towards Fischer with a little laugh.

"Oh, he can't even deny those! What about the great German victory in the North Sea, Mr. Fischer? Do you happen to have seen the latest telegrams?"

"Our first reports were perhaps a little too glowing," Mr. Fischer acknowledged. "That, under the circ.u.mstances, is, I think, only natural. But the facts remain that the invincible English and the untried German fleets have met, to the advantage of the German."

Pamela shook her head.

"I cannot even allow that," she objected. "The advantage, if there was any, rested on the other side. But I just want you to remember what we were told in that first wonderful outpouring of fabricated news--that the naval supremacy of England was gone for ever, that the freedom of the seas was a.s.sured, that German merchant vessels were steaming home from all directions! No, Mr. Fischer! Between ourselves, I think that your cause needs a few fairy stories, and I look upon you as one of the greatest experts in the world when it comes to concocting them."

Fischer, who had risen to his feet half way through Pamela's speech, was obviously a little taken aback by her direct attack. Mrs. Hastings took no pains to conceal her annoyance.

"For a young girl of your age, Pamela," she said sternly, "I consider that you express your opinions far too freely. Your att.i.tude, too, is unjustifiable."

"Ah, well, you see, I am a little prejudiced against Mr. Fischer,"

Pamela laughed, turning towards him. "He happened to defeat one of my pet schemes."

"But I am ready to further your dearest one," he reminded her, dropping his voice, and leading her a little on one side. "What about our alliance?"

"You scarcely need my aid," she observed, with a shrug of the shoulders.

He remonstrated vigorously. There was a revived hopefulness in his tone. Perhaps, after all, here was the secret of her displeasure with him.

"You wonder, perhaps, to see me with your uncle. I give you my word that it is a dinner of courtesy only. I give you my word that I have not opened my lips on political matters. I have been waiting for your answer."

"I have lost faith in you," she told him calmly. "I am not even certain that you possess the authority you spoke of."

"If that is all," he replied eagerly, "you shall see it with your own eyes. You are staying with your uncle and aunt in Was.h.i.+ngton, are you not? I shall call upon you immediately I arrive, and bring it with me."

She nodded.

"Well, that remains a challenge, then, Mr. Fischer. And now, if you are quite ready," she added, turning to Lutchester.... "Good-by, everybody!"

"Aren't your ears burning?" Pamela asked, after Lutchester had handed her into a taxicab and taken his place by her side. "I can absolutely feel them talking about us."

"I seem to be most regrettably unpopular," Lutchester remarked.

"Even now I am puzzled about that," Pamela confessed, "but you see my aunt considers herself the arbitress of what is right or wrong in social matters, and she is exceedingly narrow-minded. In her eyes it is no doubt a greater misdemeanour for me to have dined at the Ritz-Carlton alone with you, than if I had conspired against the Government."

"And this, I thought, was the land of freedom for your s.e.x!"

"Ah, but my aunt is rather an exception," Pamela reminded him. "The one thing I cannot understand, however, is that she should have allowed herself to be seen dining with Mr. Oscar Fischer at the Ritz-Carlton. I should have thought that would have been almost as heinous to her as my own little slip from grace."

"Is your aunt by way of being interested in politics?" Lutchester inquired.

"Not in a general way," Pamela replied, "but she is intensely ambitious, and she'd give her soul if Uncle Theodore could get a nomination for the Presidency."

"Perhaps she is taking up the German-American cause, then," Lutchester suggested. "It is a possible platform, at any rate."

"I foresee a new party," Pamela murmured thoughtfully. "Now I come to think of it, Mr. Elsworthy, the fat old gentleman who knew your uncle, is very pro-German."

He leaned towards her.

"We have had enough politics," he insisted. "There is the other thing.

Couldn't I have my answer?"

She let him take her fingers. In the cool darkness through which they were rus.h.i.+ng her face seemed white, her head was a little averted. He tried to draw her to him, but she was unyielding.

"Please not," she begged. "I like you--and I'm glad I like you," she added, "but I don't feel certain about anything. Couldn't we be just friends a little longer?"

"It must be as you say, but I am horribly in love with you," he confessed. "That may sound rather a bald way of saying so, but it's the truth, Pamela, dear."

His clasp upon her fingers was tightened. She turned towards him. Her expression was serious but delightful.

"Well, let me tell you this much, at least," she confided. "I have never before in my life been so glad to hear any one say so.... And here we are at home, and there's Jimmy on the doorstep. What is it, Jimmy," she asked, waving her hand.

He came down towards her in a state of great excitement.

"Say, we've had to open up the office again!" he exclaimed. "The telegrams are rolling in now. That so-called German naval victory was a fake. The Britishers came out right on top. You know you stand to net at least half a million, Mr. Lutchester? The worst of it is I have another client who's going to lose it."

Pamela shook her head at Lutchester.

"The possibility of increased responsibilities," he whispered. "A married man needs something to fall back upon."

CHAPTER x.x.xI

The offices of Messrs. Neville, Brooks, and Van Teyl were the scene of something like pandemonium. Van Teyl himself, bathed in perspiration, rushed into his room for the twentieth time. He almost flung the newspaper man who was waiting for him through the door.

"No, we don't know a darned thing," he declared. "We've no special information. The only reason we're up to our neck in Anglo-French is because we've two big clients dealing."

"It's just a few personal notes about those clients we'd like to handle."

"Oh, get out as quick as you can!" Van Teyl snapped. "This isn't a bucket shop or a pool room. The names of our clients concerns ourselves only."

"What do you think Anglo-French are going to do, Mr. Van Teyl?"

"I can't tell," was the prompt answer, "but I can tell what's going to happen if you don't clear out."

The newspaper man took a hurried leave. Van Teyl seized the telephone receiver, only to put it down with a little shout of relief as the door opened and Lutchester entered.

"Thank G.o.d!" he exclaimed. "Why, I've been ringing you up for an hour and a half."