"Is this man of n.o.ble blood?"

"Yes," she almost whispered, turning her eyes away.

"And he means to do me harm?"

"I am sure of it."

"Because?"

"Because he fears your power."

"In what direction?"

"You know without asking, M. Quentin."

"And why do you take this interest in me? I am nothing to you."

"It's because you are not to be treated fairly. Listen. On this train are two men who do not know that I am here, and who would be confounded if they were to see me. They are in one of the forward coaches, and they are emissaries sent on to watch your every movement and to report the progress of your--your business in Brussels. If you become too aggressive before the man who employs them can arrange to come to Brussels, you are to be dealt with in a manner effectual. What is to be done with you, I do not know, but I am certain you are in great danger unless you--" She paused, and a queer expression came into her wide eyes.

"Unless what? You interest me."

"Unless you withdraw from the contest."

"You a.s.sume that there is a contest of some sort. Well, admitting there is one, I'll say that you may go back to the prince and tell him his scheme doesn't work. This story of yours--pardon me, Mademoiselle is a clever one, and you have done your part well, but I am not in the least alarmed. Kindly return to the man who sent you and ask him to come in your stead if he wants to frighten me. I am not afraid of women, you know."

"You wrong me, Monsieur; I am not his agent. I am acting purely on my own responsibility, for myself alone. I have a personal object in warning you, but that is neither here nor there. Let me add that I wish you success in the undertaking which now interests you. You must believe me, though, when I say that you are in danger.

Forewarned is forearmed. I do not know what steps are to be taken against you; time will expose them. But I do know that you are not to win what you seek."

"This is a very strange proceeding," began he, half-convinced of her sincerity.

"We are nearing Le Cateau, and I must leave you. The men of whom I speak are the Duke Laselli and a detective called Courant. I know they are sent to watch you, and they mean you no good. Be careful, for G.o.d's sake, Monsieur, for I--I--want you to win!" She was standing now, and with trembling fingers was adjusting a thick veil over her face.

"Why are you so interested in me?" he asked, sharply. "Why do you want me to win--to win, well, to win the battle?"

"Because--" she began, but checked herself. A deep blush spread over her face just as she dropped the veil.

"The cad!" he said, understanding coming to him like a flash. "There is more than one heart at stake."

"Good-bye and good luck, Monsieur," she whispered. He held her hand for an instant as she pa.s.sed him, then she was gone.

Mile after mile from Le Cateau to Quevy found him puzzling over the odd experience of the night. Suddenly he started and muttered, half aloud:

"By thunder, I remember now! It was she who sat beside him in the carriage this morning!"

VIII. THE FATE OF A LETTER

At Quevy the customs officers went through the train, and Quentin knew that he was in Belgium. For some time he had been weighing in his mind the advisability of searching the train for a glimpse of the duke and his companion, doubtful as to the sincerity of the beautiful and mysterious stranger. It was not until the train reached Mons that he caught sight of the duke. He had started out deliberately at last to hunt for the Italian, and the latter evidently had a similar design. They met on the platform and, though it was quite dark, each recognized the other. The American was on the point of addressing the duke when that gentleman abruptly turned and reentered the train, one coach ahead of that occupied by Quentin, who returned to his compartment and proceeded to awaken the snoring man-servant. Without reserve he confided to Turk the whole story of the night up to that point.

"I don't know what their game is, Turk, but we must not be caught napping. We have a friend in the pretty woman who got off in the rain at Le Cateau. She loves the prince, and that's why she's with us."

"Say, did she look's if she had royal blood in her? Mebby she's a queen er somethin' like that. Blow me, if a feller c'n tell w'at sort of a swell he's goin' up ag'inst over here. Dukes and lords are as common as cabbies are in New York. Anyhow, this duke ain't got no bulge on us. We're nex' to him, all right, all right. Shall I crack him on the knot when we git to this town we're goin' to? A good jolt would put him out o' d' business fer a spell--"

"Now, look here, young man; don't let me hear of you making a move in this affair till I say the word. You are to keep your mouth closed and your hands behind you. What I want you to do is to watch, just as they are doing. Your early training ought to stand you well in hand for this game. I believe you once said you had eyes in the back of your head."

"Eyes, nothin'! They is microscopes, Mr. Quentin."

Quentin, during the remainder of the run to Brussels, turned the new situation over and over in his mind. That the prince was ready to acknowledge him as a dangerous rival gave him much satisfaction and inspired the hope that Miss Garrison had given her lover some cause for alarm. The decisive movement on the part of Prince Ugo to forestall any advantage he might acquire while near her in Brussels was a surprise and something of a shock to him. It was an admission, despite his position and the pledge he had from the girl herself, that the Italian did not feel secure in the premises, and was willing to resort to trickery, if not villainy, to circ.u.mvent the American who knew him in other days. Phil felt positive that the move against him was the result of deliberate intent, else how should his fair friend of the early evening know that a plot was brewing? Unquestionably she had heard or learned of the prince's directions to the duke. Her own interest in the prince was, of course, the inspiration. To no one but herself could she entrust the delivery of the warning. Her agitated wish, openly expressed, that Quentin might win the contest had a much deeper meaning than would appear on the surface.

From the moment he received the warning the affair began to take on a new aspect. Aside from the primal fact that he was desperately in love with Dorothy Garrison, there was now the fresh incentive that he must needs win her against uncertain odds and in the face of surprising opposition. In this day and age of the world, in affairs of the heart, an American does not look for rivalry that bears the suggestion of medieval romance. The situation savored too much of the story-books that are born of the days when knights held sway, to appear natural in the eyes of an up-to-date, unromantic gentleman from New York, that city where love affairs adjust themselves without the aid of a novelist.

Quentin, of course, was loath to believe that Prince Ugo would resort to underhand means to checkmate a rival whose real purpose had not yet been announced. In six weeks the finest wedding in years was to occur in Brussels. St. Gudule, that historic cathedral, was to be the scene of a ceremony on which all European newspapers had the eye of comment. American papers had printed columns concerning the engagement of the beautiful Miss Garrison. Everywhere had been published the romantic story of this real love match. What, then, should the prince fear?

The train rumbled into the station at Brussels near midnight, and Turk sallied forth for a cab. This he obtained without the usual amount of haggling on his part, due to the disappointing fact that the Belgian driver could understand nothing more than the word Bellevue, while Turk could interpret nothing more than the word franc. As Quentin was crossing to the cab he encountered Duke Laselli. Both started, and, after a moment's pause, greeted each other.

"I thought I saw you at Mons," said Phil, after the first expressions of surprise.

"Yes; I boarded the train there. Some business called me to Mons last week. And you, I presume, like most tourists, are visiting a dozen cities in half as many days," said the duke, in his execrable English. They paused at the side of the Italian's conveyance, and Quentin mentally resolved that the dim light, as it played upon the face of the speaker, was showing to him the most repellent countenance he had ever looked upon.

"Oh. no," he answered, quickly, "I shall probably remain until after the marriage of my friend, Miss Garrison, and Prince Ugo. Are you to be here long?"

"I cannot say," answered the other, his black eyes fastened on Quentin's, "My business here is of an uncertain nature."

"Diplomatic, I infer?"

"It would not be diplomatic for me to say so. I suspect I shall see you again, Mr. Quentin."

"Doubtless; I am to be at the Bellevue."

"And I, also. We may see some of the town together."

"You are very kind," said Quentin, bowing deeply. "Do you travel alone?"

"The d.u.c.h.ess is ill and is in Florence. I am so lonely without her."

"It's beastly luck for business to carry one away from a sick wife.

By the way, how is my dear friend, Prince Ugo?"

"Exceptionally well, thank you. He will be pleased to know you are here, for he is coming to Brussels next week. I think, if you will pardon me, he has taken quite a fancy to you."

"I trust, after longer acquaintance, he may not find me a disappointment," said Phil warmly, and a faint look of curiosity flashed into the duke's eyes. As they were saying good-night, Quentin looked about for the man who might be Courant, the detective. But the duke's companion was not to be seen.

The next morning Quentin proceeded in a very systematic and effective way to locate the home of the Garrisons. He was aware, in the beginning, that they lived in a huge, beautiful mansion somewhere in the Avenue Louise. He knew from his Baedeker that the upper town was the fashionable quarter, and that the Avenue Louise was one of the princ.i.p.al streets. An electric tramcar took him speedily through the Boulevards Regent and Waterloo to the Avenue Louise. A strange diffidence had prevented him from asking at the hotel for directions that would easily have discovered her home.

Somehow he wanted to stroll along the avenue in the early morning and locate the home of Dorothy Garrison without other aid than the power which tells one when he is near the object of his adoration.

He left the car at the head of the avenue and walked slowly along the street.