The Last Hope Part 17

"The Minister is pressed for time."

"So was I," replied the Englishman, who spoke perfect French, "when I first sat down here, half an hour ago. But even haste will pa.s.s in time."

He rose, and followed the servant into the inner room, where he returned the bow of a little white-bearded gentleman seated at a huge desk.

"Well, sir," said this gentleman, with the abrupt manner which has come to be considered Napoleonic on the stage or in the political world to-day. "Your business?"

The servant had withdrawn, closing the door behind him with an emphasis of the self-accusatory sort.

"I am a banker," replied John Turner, looking with an obese deliberation toward one of the deep windows, where, half-concealed by the heavy curtain, a third person stood gazing down into the street.

The Minister smiled involuntarily, forgetting his dignity of a two-years'

growth.

"Oh, you may speak before Monsieur," he said.

"But I am behind him," was the immediate reply.

The gentleman leaning against the window-breast did not accept this somewhat obvious invitation to show his face. He must have heard it, however, despite an absorption which was probably chronic; for he made a movement to follow with his glance the pa.s.sage of some object of interest in the street below. And the movement seemed to supply John Turner with the information he desired.

"Yes, I am a banker," he said, more genially.

The Minister gave a short laugh.

"Monsieur," he said, "every one in Europe knows that. Proceed."

"And I only meddle in politics when I see the possibility of making an honest penny."

"Already made--that honest penny--if one may believe the gossip--of Europe," said the Minister. "So many pence that it is whispered that you do not know what to do with them."

"It is unfortunate," admitted Turner, "that one can only dine once a day."

The little gentleman in office had more than once invited his visitor to be seated, indicating by a gesture the chair placed ready for him. After a slow inspection of its legs, Mr. John Turner now seated himself. It would seem that he, at the same time, tacitly accepted the invitation to ignore the presence of a third person.

"Since you seem to know all about me," he said, "I will not waste any more of your time, or mine, by trying to make you believe that I am eminently respectable. The business that brought me here, however, is of a political nature. A plain man, like myself, only touches politics when he sees his gain clearly. There are others who enter that field from purer motives, I am told. I have not met them."

The Minister smiled on one side of his face, and all of it went white. He glanced uncomfortably at that third person, whom he had suggested ignoring.

"And yet," went on John Turner, very dense or greatly daring, "I have lived many years in France, Monsieur le Ministre."

The Minister frowned at him, and made a quick gesture of one hand toward the window.

"So long," pursued the Englishman, placidly, "as the trains start punctually, and there is not actually grape-shot in the streets, and one may count upon one's dinner at the hour, one form of government in this country seems to me to be as good as another, Monsieur le Ministre. A Bourbon Monarchy or an Orleans Monarchy, or a Republic, or--well, an Empire, Monsieur le Ministre."

"_Mon Dieu!_ have you come here to tell me this?" cried the Minister, impatiently, glancing over his shoulder toward the window, and with one hand already stretched out toward the little bell standing on his desk.

"Yes," answered Turner, leaning forward to draw the bell out of reach. He nodded his head with a friendly smile, and his fat cheeks shook. "Yes, and other things as well. Some of those other matters are perhaps even more worthy of your earnest attention. It is worth your while to listen.

More especially, as you are paid for it--by the hour."

He laughed inside himself, with a hollow sound, and placidly crossed his legs.

"Yes; I came to tell you, firstly, that the present form of government, and, er--any other form which may evolve from it--"

"Oh!--proceed, monsieur!" exclaimed the Minister, hastily, while the man in the recess of the window turned and looked over his shoulder at John Turner's profile with a smile, not unkind, on his sphinx-like face.

"--has the inestimable advantage of my pa.s.sive approval. That is why I am here, in fact. I should be sorry to see it upset."

He broke off, and turned laboriously in his chair to look toward the window, as if the gaze of the expressionless eyes there had tickled the back of his neck like a fly. But by the time the heavy banker had got round, the curtain had fallen again in its original folds.

"--by a serious Royalist plot," concluded Turner, in his thick, deliberate way.

"So, a.s.suredly, would any patriot or any true friend of France," said the Minister, in his best declamatory manner.

"Um--m. That is out of my depth," returned the Englishman, bluntly. "I paddle about in the shallow water at the edge and pick up what I can, you understand. I am too fat for a _voyant_ bathing-costume, and the deep waters beyond, Monsieur le Ministre."

The Minister drummed impatiently on his desk with his five fingers, and looked at Turner sideways beneath his brows.

"Royalist plots are common enough," he said, tentatively, after a pause.

"Not a Royalist plot with money in it," was the retort. "I dare say an honest politician, like yourself, is aware that in France it is always safe to ignore the conspirator who has no money, and always dangerous to treat with contempt him who jingles a purse. There is only a certain amount of money in the world, Monsieur le Ministre, and we bankers usually know where it is. I do not mean the money that the world pours into its own stomach. That is always afloat--changing hands daily. I mean the Great Reserves. We watch those, you understand. And if one of the Great Reserves, or even one of the smaller reserves, moves, we wonder why it is being moved and we nearly always find out."

"One supposes," said the Minister, hazarding an opinion for the first time, and he gave it with a sidelong glance toward the window, "that it is pa.s.sing from the hands of a financier possessing money into those of one who has none."

"Precisely. And if a financier possessing money is persuaded to part with it in such a quarter as you suggest, one may conclude that he has good reason to antic.i.p.ate a substantial return for the loan. You, who are a brilliant collaborateur in the present government, should know that, if any one does, Monsieur le Ministre."

The Minister glanced toward the window, and then gave a good-natured and encouraging laugh, quite unexpectedly, just as if he had been told to do so by the silent man looking down into the street, who may, indeed, have had time to make a gesture.

"And," pursued the banker, "if a financier possessing money parts with it--or, to state the case more particularly, if a financier possessing no money, to my certain knowledge, suddenly raises it from nowhere definite, for the purposes of a Royalist conspiracy, the natural conclusion is that the Royalists have got hold of something good."

John Turner leant back in his chair and suppressed a yawn.

"This room is very warm," he said, producing a pocket-handkerchief. Which was tantamount to a refusal to say more.

The Minister twisted the end of his moustache in reflection. It was at this time the fas.h.i.+on in France to wear the moustache waxed. Indeed, men displayed thus their political bias to all whom it might concern.

"There remains nothing," said the official at length, with a gracious smile, "but to ask your terms."

For he who was afterward Napoleon the Third had introduced into French political and social life a plain-spoken cynicism which characterises both to this day.

"Easy," replied Turner. "You will find them easy. Firstly, I would ask that your stupid secret police keeps its fingers out; secondly, that leniency be a.s.sured to one person, a client of mine--the woman who supplies the money--who is under the influence--well, that influence which makes women do n.o.bler and more foolish things, monsieur, than men are capable of."

He rose as he spoke, collected his hat and stick, and walked slowly to the door. With his hand on the handle, he paused.

"You can think about it," he said, "and let me know at your leisure. By the way, there is one more point, Monsieur le Ministre. I would ask you to let this matter remain a secret, known only to our two selves and--the Prince President."

And John Turner went out, without so much as a glance toward the window.