LE
The Stem of
the Crimson Dahlia
James Locke, Charlotte
Weber-Ditzler, Moffat, Yard and Company





03 <,





THE STEM OF THE
CRIMSON DAHLIA









We must not be seen talking together"
(Page 66)


THE STEM OF THE
CRIMSON DAHLIA
JAMKS LOCKE
With Frontisi".;*''" By
CH. WrHKK.-Drrri.KR
New York
MOFFAT, YAIiD & COMPANY
1908


#£> f?/C>
COPYRIGHT, I908, BY
MOFFAT, YARD & COMPANY,
NEW YORK
Published, January, 1908.


TO
E. S. M. and R. S. Y.
"For all the story books you read;
For all the pains you comforted;
For all you pitied, all you bore."
[R. L. S.]





CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. The Bridge of Mystery 3
II. Playing Don Quixote 23
III. Persona Non Grata 35
IV. The Silver Vinaigrette ...... 49
V. On a Blind Trail 69
VI. The Cost of a Bad Shot ..... 83
VII. A Summons from My Chief 99
VIII. The Wrong Carriage 117
IX. A Troublesome Ally 139
X. The Cloister in the Balkans . . . 153
XI. "The Red Flower has been Lost" . . 171
XII. Paroff is Brought to Terms .... 187
XIII. Zemoff Prepares a Surprise for Me . . 207
XIV. A Parole Quickly Broken 221
XV. Pursuit 237
XVI. Without Mercy 253
XVII. Marie Tells the Truth 265
XVIII. Unconvinced 277
XIX. Fenn-Brook Takes a Hand 297
XX. The Dahlia's Work is Done . . . . 317
XXI. The Fruit of the Flower 337
VII





CHAPTER I.
THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
T HAD obeyed to the letter the injunctions of
my brother, an experienced traveler.
"Go abroad," he had said, "and surfeit yourself
with the capitals of Western Europe. Then find
your way to Constantinople."
Europe had been done, at first with enthusiasm,
then perfunctorily. The enthusiasm had sufficed
to carry me through three months of London and
two of Paris, and later had been re-awakened for
a period at Rome. But, after all, I had been dis-
appointed. I had set sail from America with
visions of seeing political Europe, historical
Europe; and had found instead a Europe which
was not only silent as to the great movements of the
Present, but dealing out its glorious Past, to the
curious, at fifty centimes per head; a Europe of great
hotels, and of guides stepping on one's heels with a
3


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
persistence only the more objectionable because it
was so obsequious; a Europe made easy by plans
and reference books which tell one where things
once were, with systematic exactness and with cold-
blooded abbreviations that defy the romantic.
I had gone to Paris athirst for the atmosphere
of the Faubourg St. Antoine. The Paris which I
had known was that of the Revolution; of a wild,
drunken mob of the Eighteenth Century, surging
backward and forward under a panoply of red-
glaring smoke from the pine torches, hurling its
curses against the black walls of the Bastille. Find
it? Or find anything that would help me to picture
it? On the spot where the most stirring episode
in all French history occurred, I found modern
houses facing handsome boulevards. I located the
exact site of the grim old prison by a hand-book
which told me where "B. once stood."
That for the Old! And as for the New, show me
the porter of a Berlin caravanserie, no matter how
gorgeous may be his livery, who can impart to you
the secret motives of his Emperor. Tell me how,
by wandering up and down Piccadilly or High


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
Holborn or the Thames Embankment, a man
can be assisted to the extent of one iota in his un-
derstanding of England's world-dealing problems.
What earthly advantage is there in craning your
neck to see the back and silk hat of a Russian
Ambassador, crouched down in his carriage, on
his way to the Foreign office?
All over Europe it had been the same old story.
I was a tourist, a tourist, a tourist, to be fed on
infinitesimal crumbs, and plucked of my sixpence
and twenty-pfennig pieces for the feeding.
But here, finally, with the steamer swinging slow-
ly into her berth at the Galata docks, was definite
promise of all that, elsewhere, I had sought in vain.
I could understand at a glance the reason of my
brother's injunction to hold Constantinople till the
last. Here, I had reached a city in whose streets
history, real, live history, runs riot. For the Past,
that great triumphant crescent, rising high from
the dome of St. Sofia, boasting to the world that it
stands where once the Cross of Christ had been
planted! For the Present, the sombre gray houses
of Pera, where the ambassadors live, and where
5


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
the very street dogs bark at the clatter which the
driving wheels of diplomacy produce! And for the
Past and Present combined, that nearby long
wooden bridge over the Golden Horn, leading from
Levantine Galata to Turkish Stamboul! Even
from the deck of the steamer I could see the long
steady lines of fezzes ceaselessly crossing it, and
the gorgeous uniform of a Kavass on the carriage
box of some My-Imperial-Master's representative
who was scattering the crowd on his hurried way
to the great Porte.
The custom house formalities were almost end-
less, and an hour had passed before I found myself
in my room at the Grand Hotel Bretagne. It was
already late in the afternoon; but the sight of that
Galata Bridge had fascinated me, and there
would still be time, I found, to pay a short visit to
its entrance before darkness fell. The hotel offi-
cials suggested a guide, one of a number of unpre-
possessing Jews who were hanging about the
corridors. A troublesome, servile, unsympathetic
guide was just the last thing I wished to have by
me. In lieu of one, I chose a jangling, rattle-
6


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
trap one-horse street-car which ran past the
door.
Oh, that Bridge of Galata! I know Constanti-
nople fairly well by this time; but never do I go
back there without making this spot my first objec-
tive. Nor, though subsequent events have brought
me in close touch with the Drama of the Near East
and I can better understand its crowds than once
I did, have those crowds one whit lost their fas-
cination to me. I experience to-day the same feel-
ing, not of curiosity but of awe, with which, just
before sunset on that September afternoon, I paid
the bridge-keeper his funny little Turkish coin and
stepped out upon the rough planking. And what
wonder? Where else in the world can one see
such a sight? It is not alone a question of diver-
sity in nationalities, of diversity in costume;
though you find Turk and Jew and Greek, Bul-
garian, Servian, Armenian, Persian, Kurd, in
indiscriminate procession. It is the fact that
every mother's son of them is a conspirator; a man
of tragedy, a man in whom there lies, innate, some
futile race hatred, some futile patriotism; a man
7


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
the gratifying of whose secret aspirations would
involve Europe in a general war, and change the
map of a continent.
That fellow, there — I can still recall, item for
item, the figures of my first visit, and, knowing
now the different costumes, can place them—that
fellow was a dealer in brass, the owner of a little
shop and fifty dollars worth of stock. To clear two
hundred per cent, was his daily endeavor; his ambi-
tion, to see the ancient empire of Lydia rise again
under the name of Armenia. That Kurdish porter,
struggling along under a bale of hay; how willingly
would he bend his back to the load if only every
Armenian on earth could be blotted from existence!
And that dapper little Turk, affecting European
dress — Alas! poor Egypt, poor Bosnia; alas, poor
Islam! But sooner or later, surely, Allah would
rise in his wrath and smite these wretched for-
eigners, these Infidels whose clothes and customs
he, as a diplomatic clerk, was forced to imitate.
Even that poor old beggar, leaning like myself
against the parapet of the bridge, surely con-
cealed beneath his bosom some longing far greater
8


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
than that with which he stretched out his trembling
hand to the passers-by. He was a great char-
acter, that beggar, one to be singled out even in a
Constantinople crowd. Age and suffering obliter-
ate the lines of race in a man's face, and I could
not determine his nationality; and besides, all
his lower features were covered by a long, heavy
beard of dirty white. That he was a subject of
the Sultan I could see, for he wore upon the back
of his head a dilapidated fez, from which the black
tassel had long since been torn away. His body
was entirely shrouded in a long brown cloak, out
at elbow, covered with patches of many hues, and
edged, in a fragmentary way, with a band of
cheap, badly moth-eaten fur.
He seemed a very discriminating beggar; study-
ing the passers-by as they approached from one
side or the other; letting many go whom one less
experienced in his vocation would address. But
once having hobbled out into the roadway to
accost a victim, he rarely returned without clutch-
ing in his trembling hand a coin. I made up my
mind that he was playing upon racial sympathies;
9


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
though the sympathies of which race I could not
guess. Certainly his patrons were of all possible
grades of life.
One of them was a young girl, a European girl,
obviously demi-mondaine. She came walking-
slowly along, close to the rail, and I think my
mendicant friend and I noted her at the same
moment; he, because she seemed a most promising
victim; and I, because a European woman, unat-
tended, is a rare sight on the Galata Bridge. Such
as one does meet are usually of the Levant; dark,
narrow of face, with great black eyes and treacher-
ous thin lips. But this particular girl was short
and stout, with almost yellow hair, and cheeks, the
artificial pink and white of which appeared almost
ghastly by contrast with the swarthy complexions
of her fellow pedestrians. Her dress, on the other
hand, was inconspicuous. The skirt was made of
some plain dark gray material. The waist was
of a lighter shade, and over her shoulders she had
thrown a cheap wrap. Had it not been for a
single huge dark red dahlia which she wore at her
belt, I would have noticed only her face.
10


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
She was almost upon the beggar before she saw
him. He placed himself directly across her path
and stretched out his palsied hand. The girl
took a coin from her purse and, giving it to him,
was about to pass on, when the old fellow again
restrained her. He pointed to the flower at her
waist, and said something in his native tongue.
She smiled, but apparently did not understand.
Then the beggar, to my surprise, addressed her in
broken German. I was near enough to them to
hear the conversation.
"Does the Fraulein know German, perhaps?
Good. Will the Fraulein not give me that flower
in her belt? I have a little granddaughter at
home; such a sweet little girl. She is sick. I
buy her always a flower before I return; and if the
sweet Fraulein will only give me that one, it will
save me much money. And I will tell my grand-
daughter that it was sent by one of the grand
ladies of Pera. Not so?"
The girl laughingly pulled out the dahlia and
gave it to him.
"Take it, you old rogue," she answered, gaily,
ii


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"There are many more where that one came from.
And when you present it to the granddaughter, you
can tell her that it came from an ambassador's
wife."
Giggling at the idea, she went her way, to be
swallowed up in the crowd beyond. The beggar
resumed his position against the bridge railing,
and his seeking for prey.
Although so near, he had evidently found in my
appearance something either forbidding or un-
charitable, for as yet he had not deigned even a
look in my direction. But here might be a guide
after my own heart. I corrected his impression by
approaching and offering him the munificent gift
of a ten-piaster piece. He grasped the coin eagerly,
with bows and scrapes and benedictions, and
dropped it into the leather bag at his side.
"How comes it," I asked, in the little of the
language of the Fatherland that I could master,
"that you understand German?"
He looked at me with suspicious eyes.
"I am a Bosnian," he answered, briefly. "I
was born just across the Austrian frontier."
12


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
"You know Constantinople very well?"
"Very well."
"Do you wish to earn another silver piece? If
you do, stand here and tell me what some of these
costumes mean. What is that man, for instance?"
"A Kurd."
"And that one?"
"That is a man of Erzeroum."
He was hardly what you would call talkative,
and seemed more anxious to be rid of me than to
earn my money, no matter how easily it might be
done. But he nevertheless remained on the out-
look for coins of the natives, searching the marching
crowd with experienced eye. Had I not studied
his previous actions, I should have thought him
waiting for some special person. He kept edging
away from me, too, and his answers to my pursuing
questions became more and more curt; and his
nervous, trembling fingers picked at one another.
Glancing down at his hands, I laughed.
"I fear I must help you purchase another*
flower for your granddaughter. See what you
have done to that one."
J3


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
The old fellow raised his hand, and gave a
little cry of consternation. The dahlia had been
half plucked of its petals.
"Oh, what have I done? But no, I will make
it this way. See, I have the petals, here. I will
take them home; and my granddaughter, with a
little flour and water, will paste them upon paper,
that the blossom may always keep and remind
her of the beautiful lady. I must hurry to her
now, lest the little leaves lose their color; not so?"
He hobbled off in the direction of Stamboul.
His thoughtfulness for the sick granddaughter,
however, must have been very ephemeral. A few
minutes later I caught a glimpse of him at the far
end of the bridge, begging as energetically as
before.
And then occurred, in rapid succession, a
series of very strange coincidences.
The first one came with the return of the dapper
little Turk in European clothes whom I had
noticed earlier in the afternoon. He walked
jauntily along, his fez cocked to. one side, his
cigarette held, with most ridiculous affectation,
14


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
between two fingers of his raised and extended
hand. Without stopping, he crowded between
me and the bridge rail, and pursued his way into
Galata. The peculiar thing was this. After he
had gone, I chanced to look down at my feet.
There, close to the rail, lay the remnant of a
dahlia; the remnant, as I could see by the few
remaining petals, of a dark red dahlia. There
could not be two such remnants on that bridge at
the same moment. And yet, what could possibly
be the reason of such a thing? , What earthly
motive could that dandy have had in taking a
wrecked flower from the hand of a dirty old beggar?
I stooped and picked it up. My curiosity was
aroused. No, there could be no doubt of its
being the same one, for there on the injured centre
were the identical marks and bruises which I had
seen when it was in the possession of my quondam
guide.
Incident number two followed closely upon the
heels of its predecessor. A carriage came rapidly
across the bridge. It contained an elderly lady,
whose appearance did not especially attract my
*5


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
attention at the time; an elderly gentleman, pre-
sumably an American; and a young girl, American
without doubt; the prettiest American girl that I
have ever set eyes upon.
They were apparently tourists, returning late
from the Stamboul bazaar. When directly op-
posite me, the carriage, at the gentleman's signal,
stopped. He opened the door and the young girl
descended. As she did so, I heard her exclaim
in answer to some protest of the elder woman:
"No, I really must get out. I won't have that
view spoiled by such a hideous foreground as this
bridge."
I had been so engrossed with the human scenes
before me that up to that moment I had failed to
notice what Nature was doing, beyond. At the
girl's words I turned my eyes in the other direc-
tion. Well might she be jealous of anything that
interfered with the glory of that twilight; of the
great dull red sky bank in the west, its edge cut
and cut again by shadowy minarets, rounded and
hollowed out by the huge silhouetted domes of the
Stamboul mosques; the glory of the gray, faintly
16


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"You are an American, are you not?"
"I certainly am," I answered. "There is no
necessity of asking you the same question."
She laughed.
"I suppose you mean that if I were not an
American girl I would not have dared to do such
a thing as speak to you. But then, if we can do it
at table d'hote, I don't see why it should not be
proper on the Galata Bridge. Do you? For my
part, I am patriotic enough to feel inclined, over
here, to actually throw my arms about every
countryman I meet. You are sure to get that
way, you know, after you have been away from
home for three years."
"Your inclination is of a most charitable
nature," I responded. "Of course, if the im-
pulse should become uncontrollable, I"
"Oh, it won't, never fear. I always manage to
master it."
Her eyes wandered away to the scene beyond.
"Have you traveled enough to realize that that
view"—she moved her little hand toward the
patterned shadow of Stamboul —"cannot be
18


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
equaled in all the world? Can you not imagine
yourself a Saladin, kneeling with his spoils of war
before his lady-love? Not that the Turks are
supposed to treat their women in that way; but
then, they might have, once. We should live up
to our surroundings; don't you think so? They
are too grand for the conventional present. Play
that that flower in your hand represents the spoils,
and give it to me. Never mind the kneeling,
though."
I laughingly held the dahlia's remnant to my
nostrils.
"I'm afraid the 'spoils' are self-evident: now,
if this were only a rose"
"Oh, but it would be dark before you could get
a rose. We shall have to get on with this poor
thing."
She reached forth her hand, most regally; and,
with a low bow, I placed the dilapidated stem,
with its few forlorn petals, in her fingers.
"'And his lady-love vanished from his sight;
and thenceforth, for all his years, he wandered
over the earth in search of her, but found her not
19


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
again/" laughed the girl; and before I could
answer in kind, she had stepped back to the wait-
ing carriage.
The rumble of its wheels had hardly died away
before incident number three occurred. A Greek
priest, with a heavy black beard — Athens had
shown me many of his brethren — came slowly
across the bridge. In his long black cassock and
high hat his thin figure appeared almost snake-
like. When within four or five posts distance of
my position, he stopped and bent nearly double,
in a vain groping for something in the shadows.
At each succeeding post these tactics were repeated,
until he was well beyond the spot where I was
standing. Twice he went over the whole ground,
and then was apparently about to give up his
search as futile when he noted my presence. He
stepped politely forward and addressed me in
very good French.
"Pardon, Monsieur; but may I ask whether
Monsieur has long been here?"
"On this spot, do you mean? Half an hour
or so."
20


THE BRIDGE OF MYSTERY
"And did Monsieur happen to see an old beggar
standing near him?"
"I did. He left almost ten minutes ago. I
don't know what all this mystery means; but if
you are looking for that dahlia stem," I added,
"a young girl has it."
He started visibly, but at once recovered himself.
"Ah! Ah-h! A young girl? Monsieur did
not perhaps notice whether the young lady to
whom he gave it had blond hair?"
"No, she did not. She was an American girl;
one of a party of tourists. You can probably
find her at one of the large hotels. And you are
wrong in another point. The beggar did not give
it to her. I did so myself."
"Monsieur?" He was clearly at a loss. "But
how long ago was this, Monsieur?"
"Some thirty seconds before you came on the
bridge. She was in a carriage going back to
Pera."
"The fool!" he muttered to himself. "He did
not tell me that!"
Without thanking me, the priest turned on his
21


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
heel and strode off at a rapid gait, in the direction
which my momentary lady-love had taken.
And after a moment's hesitation, but without a
warning thought as to whither interference in a
mystery of Constantinople might lead me, I strode
after him.
22


CHAPTER II
PLAYING DON QUIXOTE
T OOKING back upon that pursuit, I realize
that to undertake it was probably the most
foolhardy act of my life. I was alone. I knew
not one street of Constantinople from another,
except as I had read of them in the guide-books
and noted on plans the location of the most con-
spicuous buildings. I was unknown. The
steamer, with such few friends as I had made
during the four days' trip from Brindisi, was
probably already steaming through the Bos-
phorus on its way to the Black Sea ports. I had
put myself in touch with neither our Legation nor
Consulate. It might even be doubted whether
the porter at the Grand Bretagne would again
recognize me. And last but not least, my pass-
port, surrendered on disembarking, had not yet
been returned by the police.
23


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
But I was young and venturesome. In my
ignorance of the East, I could not know, of course,
whether beggars who speak German and Greek
priests who speak French are every day sights or
unusual. But I reasoned that, when they are
linked together by a succession of blondines,
Turkish dandies and American girls, all eager for
the same worthless dahlia stem, something must
be stirring. I had come ashore ready for adven-
ture; thirsty for it, in fact; and whether this was
a conspiracy, a criminal plot or a love affair,
its ingredients certainly indicated excitement.
Besides, I had not liked the look of that priest as
he strode off, in probable pursuit of my country-
woman. If harm or discomfort was threatening
her, I owed it to chivalry to stand by for her
protection. The little tingle which still remained
from that incipient flirtation carried with it certain
responsibilities, and I did not propose to shirk them.
The fellow, though having only a few seconds
start of me, was lost to sight by the time I made up
my mind to go after him; and it was only by
swift walking that I caught him again, in a side
24


PLAYING DON QUIXOTE
street just beyond the bridge. He turned into the
entrance of the funicular railroad tunnel, and soon
we were both ascending the steep incline to Pera,
in different compartments of the same car. Issu-
ing from the station at the top, he turned to the
right and plunged into a dark, narrow, roughly
paved alley, empty of all save the yellow curs that
were just beginning their nightly prowls for food.
The alley opened upon a wider street which,
from the comparatively large number of its lamp-
posts, seemed to be one of the principal thorough-
fares of Pera. Diagonally across from the corner
was a huge black building which, to my surprise,
I recognized as my own hotel. I did not dare to
enter and ask whether my passport had been
returned, for fear of losing my man; and it was
well that I resisted the temptation. He paused
for a moment at the corner in apparent indecision;
then, as a street-car came toiling up the hill from
Galata, jumped on board and went inside. Under
the light from the great lamp at the hotel entrance,
I looked up in my guide-book the street railroad
system of Constantinople and found that this
25


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
particular line led to some villages well beyond
the limits of the city. It seemed, therefore, that
my chase might easily be a long one. I signaled
a cab-driver at the curb and explained my wishes
by pantomime.
Whether cab-drivers of the Orient are in the
habit of driving passengers in secret pursuit of
street-cars, I do not know; but as soon as we started
I found this one to be a past master in the
art. The car was soon overtaken, and my driver
slowed down to a very gentle trot. Between cross-
streets he fell back, but only to such a perfectly
measured distance that if the car stopped any-
where to let off a passenger, we were never more
than ten feet behind when it came to a standstill;
and on each such occasion he sharply turned the
carriage and so gave me a good view of the per-
son alighting, without making myself conspicuous.
The pursuit took us first through the Grand rue
de Pera, already ablaze with smoky lights and
swarming with its nightly outpourings of thin-
faced, treacherous-eyed Levantines. Thence we
passed into the open spaces surrounding what I
26


PLAYING DON QUIXOTE
have since identified as the artillery barracks. At
the further end of the series of buildings which
comprise these there is a little garden, surrounding
a cafe. Here the car halted, and I saw the priest
step from its platform. I rapped upon the win-
dow, and the driver, though giving no sign that he
had heard me, promptly turned into the next
street and halted in the shadow. I descended,
gave him a gold piece, and he proceeded on in the
same direction, leaving me standing there in the
darkness by the side of a large tree.
I crept cautiously back to the corner and beheld
my man, not fifty feet away, in energetic con-
versation with a man much smaller than himself.
They were too far off, of course, for me to hear
anything of what was said, but this did not much
matter; it was hardly probable that they were
using a language which I could understand, any-
way.
The conference lasted about five minutes; the
priest doing most of the talking. Then, without
troubling himself to make any adieus, he suddenly
turned about and strode away, coming in my
27


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
direction. I dodged back to my tree and hid
behind it. He passed me, not five feet away,
walking rapidly and resolutely; and as soon as
sufficient distance had been laid between us, I
followed. There were no lights along the road
and, so far as sight was concerned, I might have
been in pursuit of a phantom. But I could hear
his energetic footsteps, rapid and steady in the
distance; and regulated my pace by them, letting
their sound grow neither louder nor fainter and
concealing the noise of my own progress by walk-
ing with my heels free of the ground.
The road was hemmed in on both sides by
walls, eight or ten feet high, behind which, to
judge from the trees which overhung them, lay
either open country or villas situated well back
from the street. I had lost track of our direction,
almost at the start, and now I knew not whether
we were traveling north or east or west. An-
other thing began to trouble me. I had under-
taken the pursuit largely in the thought that if I
had unwittingly involved a countrywoman in
trouble, I should be on hand to protect her when
28


PLAYING DON QUIXOTE
it fell. But all localities where an American
girl could possibly be found were now being
left behind us; and my conscience told me that
knight-errantry had given way to foolish curiosity.
But I kept on, silently dogging the footsteps in
the distance, refusing to back down from I knew
not what.
We had been going for at least half an hour
before I was able to ascertain our direction. Then
the moon came up, full and round, in front of us
and a little to the right. We were accordingly
traveling northeast. The added light introduced
a new complication; for to avoid it, I had to keep
well against the wall on my right, where the walk-
ing was by no means so good. Several times I
struck forcibly against loose bricks and cobble-
stones, making what seemed an unconscionable
noise. Then, too, my legs began to pain. I was
striding along at four and a half miles an hour,
virtually on tiptoe, and the tension of the muscles
grew almost unbearable. Twice I had to stop
for rest, and make up the lost distance by sub-
sequent running. The path was very uneven,
29


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
leading first up hill, then down, with many turns
though few cross roads. I judged from this that
we were on some road which ran along the face
of the hills lining the Bosphorus. This opinion
was confirmed, a few minutes later, when the wall
on our right was for the moment discontinued.
For, below me I could see a long double row of
shadowy black rooftops; beyond them, a mosque,
ablaze with lights for the evening service; and in
the distance the dark abysmal spaces where lay
the Bosphorus. Here and there, glinting faintly
upon its smooth surface, twinkled the signal lamps
of merchantmen at anchor before the Golden Horn,
and the single lanterns of belated caiques sweeping
swiftly homeward in the rapid current. And
beyond the Bosphorus, again, shone the lights of
Scutari, on the Asiatic shore; its mosques and
minarets brilliantly outlined, bridging the waters
between two continents with bright dancing
shafts of gold.
The strange romance of the view would alone
have made me pause. But beside that, the moon,
in the absence of a shielding wall, struck full upon
3°


PLAYING DON QUIXOTE
the road, and I was obliged to let the priest obtain
a good lead before venturing to cross the open
space before me. As I stood waiting, I saw below,
in the road which ran along the shore of the Bos-
phorus, the lights of a carriage, rapidly moving
northward; away, that is, from the city. I fol-
lowed them with my eye as they passed, and until
they were perhaps a quarter of a mile beyond me.
There they stopped; and then, strangely enough,
first one of them, then the other, vanished from
sight. Under ordinary circumstances the incident
would have passed unnoticed. But I was feverish
with the mystery of the Orient that night, and
prone to attach undue significance to any and all
things. It struck me as most curious that the
occupants of the carriage should find it necessary,
in that forsaken road, to extinguish its lamps;
and yet someone had obviously felt the need of
such precaution. In the meantime, my priest
was rapidly increasing the distance between us.
I could no longer hear his footsteps. By dint of
hurrying, however, I brought them within earshot
at last, and found that he had turned into a dark
31


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
side road, and was plunging at a great rate down
the hill to the lines of houses below us.
When he reached the road which I had seen
from above, he again turned northward. The
fellow's energy seemed to have no end. I Was
gradually sickening of my foolish adventure.
After all, he would probably turn into one of the
many gateways, which I could see cut into the walls
lining the road, and disappear. The doors were
solid and, if once my quarry managed to put him-
self behind one of them, the game would clearly
be over; its only outcome, to me, a long and very
anticlimactic trudge back to town. But, as Fate
would have it, I had delayed my withdrawal
from the pursuit just a whit too long. We had
about reached the point where, as nearly as I could
judge, I had seen that carriage halt, when from
the darkness ahead there came a sudden rush of
feet, muttered oaths, and then the sound of a
sharp scuffle. Without thinking, I dashed forward.
My priest was in the thick of it. Somewhere
along the road he had picked up a stout cudgel,
the size of a walking stick. He was backed against
32


PLAYING DON QUIXOTE
the wall, full in the moonlight; laying heavily
about him with his weapon, ably defending him-
self against the onslaughts of four shadowy figures.
He had evidently been down at least once; perhaps
in the first sudden attack; for one side of his flying
cassock was white with dust. His face, too, was
covered with blood. But in some way he had
managed to get upon his feet again, and now, in
spite of the odds, was fairly holding his own;
darting out, first upon one of his assailants, then
upon another, then back to his wall again;
thrusting, slashing, guarding, with his club,
ready on all sides at once. Sympathy makes
strange shifts of front at times. It was enough
that with the odds of four to one against him
he was putting up a most gallant fight, and de-
served victory. At any rate, let that be my excuse.
I do not know how I got within the circle, without
being turned upon before I reached him. But
I did, and the next instant, the priest and I were
back to back, staving off an attack redoubled in
its energy.
The incidents of the fight after I joined it have
33


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
remained only vaguely in my mind. It lasted
but a moment or two. I remember the sheen of a
revolver, and that the hand which held it was
struck up, with the cry, in French: "None of
that. We want him alive or not at all!" I remem-
ber meeting one assailant with a straight thrust of
my stick which caught him in the mouth, and that
I felt the give as the ferrule broke through his
teeth and jammed against the back of his mouth.
Whether that thrust cost me my guard I do not
know. But the next instant I was down. I
indistinctly recall being trampled on, and that
with each kick my head ached the more. And,
very vaguely indeed, I recall the falling of an-
other body across my own, and then the uncom-
fortable jolting of a carriage. But that is all.
34


CHAPTER III
PERSONA NON GRATA
T AWOKE to strange surroundings. At first
I was conscious only of the fact that I was
in bed and that my head was aching. No; aching
is not the word. It was bursting. Putting my
hand to my temple, I encountered heavy band-
ages. I did not know how they came there, nor
why; nor, for the matter of that, did I care. My
one longing, for the time being, was that I might
sleep. Gradually, however, this feeling wore off,
and I mustered the strength to look about the
room. It was dark; but I saw that the darkness
was artificial, and that the sun was shining out-
side; for through the small fleur-de-lis shaped
opening in the solid shutter of the window came a
single dust-sparkling beam of light, casting upon
the floor a strange caricature of its pattern. From
the angle at which it fell, I judged that the hour
35


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
was either about ten in the morning, or three in
the afternoon.
Gradually my eyes became accustomed to the
shadows, and I began to make out the objects in
the room. It was such as one might expect to
find in a pension or second-class hotel in Germany.
On the pine floor, which was painted brown, lay
a small cheap rug. The walls, except for a round
mirror, were bare, but stained or painted gray.
The furniture consisted of two chairs, one of them
upholstered, a table with rickety legs and cheap
slate top, a washstand, a clothes-press, and a
little table at the head of my bed.
On the latter, by the side of a water pitcher,
lay a paper. I reached for it and, after something
of a struggle with the weak light, made out to my
surprise that it was my passport. Yes, and there
in the corner was my suit-case, and there my trunk!
Yet this was certainly not the room to which I
had been shown in the hotel, and in which I myself
had seen those articles deposited. Nor, from it's
general aspect, could I believe it to be any other
guest-room in that hotel. If it was, then the
36


PERSONA NON GRATA
prospectuses describing the luxurious furnishings
of the Grand Bretagne were even less truthful
than is usually the case.
I crawled painfully from my bed and tried to
walk to the window. The task was too much for
my strength, at first, but I finally covered the
distance by easy stages, resting at the foot of the
bed and again against the table. Once at the
window, I climbed upon the chair and put my
eyes to the little opening in the shutter. The sun
struck me full, and was answered by such a throb
of my sore brain that in starting back I nearly
lost my balance.
I tried again, this time more cautiously, and
made out that the window opened upon a narrow
alley. Directly across from me was the wall of a
gray building, some fifteen feet away. A number
of its windows came within the range of my vision,
but there was apparently no life behind their
grimy panes. From the fact that the roof was
only slightly higher than my window, I concluded
that my room must be on at least the third or
fourth floor, and this I confirmed by craning my
37


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
head so that I could look downward. I could
make out three rows of windows in the opposite
building, and just see the edge of the street below,
with a steady stream of fezzed heads moving
through it, and a shaggy, unkempt dog lying
asleep upon the sidewalk.
This did not tell me much; but, as I made my
way back to bed, I at least knew that I was still in
Constantinople, and probably in Pera; and also,
from the number of pedestrians in the street, that
the building was probably located near one of the
greater thoroughfares of the city. There was no
hope of learning more until someone came into
the room, and there was no bell by which that
someone could be called. I thought for the
moment of exploring the premises beyond the
door, but decided that it would be wiser to wait
until I had recruited my strength.
An hour passed before the house gave any signs
of life. Then, just as I was about to doze off, I
heard the soft grating of a lock in its catch. I
turned my eyes and saw that the door of my
room had quietly opened, and that someone was
38


PERSONA NON GRATA
studying me. I recognized my visitor at once;
it was the blond-haired girl who had given the
beggar the dahlia.
She staid there only long enough to see that I
was awake; and, without speaking, softly withdrew
her head and closed the door. Once more I heard
the lock turn. They were making me a prisoner,
it seemed. From one point all doubt had cer-
tainly been removed. This was mystery with a
vengeance.
There was nothing to do but await developments.
If my gaolers were secure enough in the house to
venture to lock me in, I reasoned, it would cer-
tainly be of no use to call for help. I was too
weak to struggle; and I doubted, too, whether to
raise a rumpus would help under any circum-
stances. And, on the other hand, if I was not being
particularly well treated, I was also not being
badly used. My head had been carefully band-
aged; I had been undressed and put to bed. A
protracted convalescence had apparently been
expected, and anticipated by the securing of my
luggage; and, if this was true, then I might expect
39


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
to be as well looked after until my strength re-
turned as up to the present time. If only they
would bring me something to eat!
As it turned out, food was on the way. While
I was ruminating on the situation, someone politely
knocked and then opened the door. Leaving it
ajar — I was correct, it seemed, in assuming that
my captors did not fear an attempt at escape — a
burly, good-natured Greek or Armenian servant
entered the room with a tray of coffee, rolls and
butter, and cold meats. He greeted me most
jovially, asking by signs whether I wished to be
served in bed or have my meal at the table. I
signified the latter and, at the same time, insti-
tuted a campaign to gain some information as to
my whereabouts. But we could not get together
on a language. He knew, or pretended to know,
no word of English, German or French; and
departed, with many bows, leaving me as ignorant
as before.
I breakfasted heartily, and felt the better for it.
Though my head still ached beyond endurance,
the food brought strength. Soon I was able to
40


PERSONA NON GRATA
walk about the room on fairly steady legs. Again
I tried my luck at the window, but learned noth-
ing new except that the heavy shutter was nailed
shut. I even went so far as to try the door; but
that, as was to be expected, had been securely
locked by the attendant when he departed. There
was no other form of amusement left me except
to experiment with the solitary sunbeam which
entered the room through the shutter. A few
minutes of observation here, showed me that
the ray's angle of inclination to the floor was
gradually growing greater, and hence that it was
still morning.
Two or three hours passed before my solitude
was again interrupted. The blond-haired girl
then came in and attended to the bandages on
my head. She, like the waiter, seemed jolly and
care-free, laughing heartily at the size of the
hen's egg on my temple and apparently having
great fun at my expense. But she nevertheless
refused to speak or, rather, to admit that she
could understand me. Having already heard the
girl talk in German, I was exasperated at my
41


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
failure to extract anything from her. But neither
cajoling nor anger affected her determination to
remain silent.
Her visit was followed, as before, by that of the
waiter, who brought me a really sumptuous din-
ner. It was after he had departed with the relics
of this meal that I made the only important dis-
covery of the day. Standing by the door, I heard
the man come back along the passage but stop
before he reached my room. A key was inserted
in a lock, the latter snapped back, and then I dis-
tinguished the rattle of dishes and also a few low
words. Someone was being fed in the next room
as well; someone on whom it was necessary to
turn the key, and who, therefore, was probably,
like myself, a prisoner.
I waited for some time, to be sure that he was
alone, and then rapped sharply on the wall which
separated us. No answer. I rapped again; and
again, with my ear pressed tight against the plaster.
Yes, there it was; faint, but still an answering
knock. There it came again. I responded; and
again it came, a rapid tattoo. I called, as loudly
42


PERSONA NON GRATA
as I dared, but without success and really without
hope of success. Except for the rather wicked
consolation to be derived from knowing that some-
one else was also in trouble, this was a most un-
satisfactory game; and I finally gave it up. But
I knew that, after the fight, the Greek priest and
I had been brought to the same house.
The climax to the day's adventure came about
five o'clock, when the lady of the golden hair again
appeared, followed by a man whom I at first
mistook for a Turkish general, so gorgeous was
his uniform. The girl at once set down the lamp
and departed; and the general, who turned out to
be a police inspector, or whatever the correspond-
ing official may be called in Turkey, opened fire.
"Is Monsieur ready to start?" he asked in
French.
"Start? Start where?"
"For Vienna. Monsieur has only an hour in
which to catch his train."
"My dear sir," I said, somewhat shortly, "I
have n't the slightest idea of going to Vienna. In
fact, I am very comfortable where I am."
43


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Oh, Monsieur errs. It is the wish of my
master that he leave at once."
"But I don't intend to go. I have only just
arrived," I persisted.
"I regret very much that Monsieur should take
such an attitude." His hlandness nearly drove
me wild. "But I am instructed to use force if he
resists."
"Force? Show me your authority," I
demanded.
"Gladly, Monsieur."
He pulled from his pocket a large and very
formidable document and handed it to me. It
was certainly an official order, stamped with the
imperial seal, directing that I be placed on board
the six o'clock train for the West, and escorted to
the frontier.
"It's an outrage, a damnable outrage! "I
exclaimed. "What have I done? What crime
have I committed that I should be deported?
Why"
The officer deprecatingly shrugged his shoulders.
"That I cannot say. I know only the orders
44


PERSONA NON GRATA
which, emanating from my master, must be en-
forced."
"But you can't enforce them. You have no
right. I am an American citizen. I demand to
be led to our Legation."
Again a shrug.
"I regret. I regret, Monsieur, that that is
impossible. My orders are to allow Monsieur
to hold communication with no one. We are
losing much time, and it is imperative for him to
dress at once."
"But"
"See, Monsieur, I have taken the liberty of
purchasing a ticket to Vienna. My master, it
seems, does not want you in Constantinople. It
is best that you quietly obey."
Blind with rage though I was, I could see that
nothing was to be gained by struggling. But if
ever the Sultan of Turkey meets with all the trouble
which I called down upon his head that night,
his future life will be even more uncomfortable
than his present existence. I dressed, slammed
back into their place the few things which I had
45


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
removed from the suit-case, put the passport in
my pocket, and announced my readiness to pro-
ceed to any destination his miserable Government
might select. But, so far as getting any satisfac-
tion from my wrath was concerned, I might as
well have belabored a stone wall. The angrier
I grew, the more imperturbable and bland became
my tormentor.
Arm in arm we went through a long damp
corridor and down a winding stone staircase to the
courtyard, where a carriage was waiting. We took
our places inside; the officer pulled down the
curtains; my trunk and bag were set on the box.
We started for the station, and reached it,
without my obtaining even an approximate idea
as to where the house containing my prison-room
was located.
Only once on the trip was the silence broken.
I asked whether they were graciously condescend-
ing to send me away by the Orient Express, or
had decreed an ordinary Turkish train. The
officer gave vent to one of his everlasting regrets.
"I am very sorry, Monsieur. The Orient
46


PERSONA NON GRATA
Express left at five o'clock. Monsieur's train
leaves at six."
At the station we were met by a fat Turk, in
European clothes, who took my passport away
and had it visaed. This was the only formality.
I was packed into a first-class compartment of
the train, and the fat Turk stepped into one of the
second-class, adjoining it.
My impassive friend, bowing his farewell to
me, imparted a final word of advice.
"Monsieur will do well to remain in his carriage
until he reaches Hungary. My friend is traveling
with him and the police of Bulgaria and Servia
are instructed to see that he does not descend."
He was off. And so, nearly, was I. But a
wild scheme was formulating itself in my brain.
It lacked but a few minutes of six o'clock, our
starting time. But on the next track, just across
the platform, stood another train, the huge sleep-
ing cars attached to which rendered its character
obvious. The Orient Express, which was sup-
posed to have left an hour before, had for some
reason been held back. Judging that the faster
47


CHAPTER IV
THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
TTOW long the success of the ruse would last,
I of course did not know. A telegram,
sent ahead, might stop me anywhere. But there
was some hope that the two officials, rather than
confess their carelessness, would report that I
had been safely deported; a hope rendered the
more justifiable by the thought that, whatever my
offense against the Turkish government, it could
not have been of exceptionally heinous nature.
Nevertheless, I kept well within my compartment
all that night, and breathed freely again only the
next morning, after the Bulgarian frontier had
been crossed without hindrance.
Of course this plan that I should continue on
to Vienna was all nonsense. I had come East to
see Constantinople, and intended to see it. I
believed that the hornet's nest which I had
49


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
unconsciously stirred up would soon become quiet
again, and made up my mind to rest for a few
days in Sofia, the Capital of Bulgaria, and then
quietly return to the scene of my discomfiture.
I certainly needed a rest, whether in one place or
the other. My head was still badly swollen and
aching furiously, and I was weak. Then, too,
I was temporarily a marked man. Although I
had discarded the voluminous bandage, the
great patch of adhesive plaster on my temple
would make me a conspicuous object for some
days to come.
But a good night's sleep, nevertheless, had had
wonderful effects. As I walked into the dining
car for breakfast, I felt almost gay. It was late,
and most of the passengers had apparently already
finished their meal, for the only occupant of the
car, as I entered, was a young woman who sat at
one of the tables in its forward end, with her face
toward the engine. I was assigned a seat near the
rear and, having nothing better to do, lingered
long over my food; partly devoting my time to the
study of the quaint, thatch-covered hamlets, the
50


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
gorgeous, broken, sun-burned hills, the strange
costumes, which made up the scenes through
which we were passing; and partly amusing my-
self in idle perusal of my fellow-traveler's back.
She was obviously familiar with the country,
for the landscapes over which I myself was so
thoroughly enthused drew from her scarcely a
passing glance toward the window. Then, too,
I heard her speak to the waiter in one of the native
languages, and from these two facts I at first
judged that she was a Bulgarian. But the poise
with which, in spite of her youthful appearance,
she carried herself, and the rough gray traveling
dress which, unless I had lost my guess, was the
product of no modiste this side of Paris, pro-
claimed her a "cosmopolite." And the rich brown
hair, with the little ears just peeking from it
I was suddenly made conscious that my fellow
traveler had finished her breakfast and was rising
from the table. She turned about, and our eyes
met squarely. The American girl of the Galata
Bridge! Her cheeks paled for an instant, and then
even to those selfsame little ears, her countenance
5i


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
assumed the color of hot embers. Without a
word, without another look, she swept by me.
"And he sought her over all the world, but
found her not," I mused.
I realize that in attempting to renew our
acquaintance regardless of her painfully burning
face, I was guilty of a slight lack of delicacy.
But she herself has since told me that I am for-
given. And besides, her own philosophy regarding
the subject was to a certain extent a justification
of my action. "If two Americans may speak
to each other at table d'hote, why not on the
Galata Bridge?" she had asked. If on the
Galata Bridge, thought I, why not in a railroad
train? Be my excuse what it may, I paid my
restaurant bill, and followed her.
But immediate success was not to be mine.
By questioning the guard I located her in the rear
carriage; and, as a matter of fact, in the
compartment next my own. Unfortunately, how-
ever, she had made it her castle; and, with cur-
tains down and door tight shut, apparently pro-
posed to defend it against all comers.
52


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
An hour had passed before I again saw her.
I must have fallen into a doze in the meantime,
for I remember being well startled by the opening
of her door, and just catching a glimpse of her
dress as she walked back past my compartment to
the rear of the car. I looked out and saw her
standing at the end of the corridor, watching
from a rear window the receding, tower-clad hills
of Philippopolis, as their lines gradually blurred
in the dust-mists of the plains from which they
rise. I waited a little, to avoid too obvious an
appearance of pursuit, and then was about to
join her when I thought I heard a step outside,
followed by a slight noise in her compartment.
Under ordinary circumstance it would have
been ridiculous to pay any attention to so trivial
an incident. But from the moment of her ap-
pearance on the Galata Bridge, the atmosphere
of this girl had been one of mystery. My sore
head kept that fact well emphasized. So I investi-
gated. I stepped quickly from my door to hers,
and found inside a small, swarthy, black-bearded
Slav, nervously struggling with the lock of her
53


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
traveling-bag. I reached in and brought my hand
down heavily on his shoulder.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded.
He jumped as if a shot had struck him; but I
retained my grip.
"What is it? Robbery?" In my energetic
haste I had forgotten that these people are not
regularly conversant with the English tongue.
He wriggled, trying to break my hold.
"I am — If Monsieur will kindly"
"Oh, you speak French, do you? Well, see
here. You have n't succeeded in stealing any-
thing, as yet, apparently; so, unless the young
woman to whom that satchel belongs desires it,
I won't turn you over to the authorities. But
you are not to try a second time. Which is your
compartment?"
He fortunately recognized the fact that he was
in the grasp of a man with considerably more
weight and muscle than he himself could show,
and sullenly yielded.
"The next one, Monsieur; on this side.
But"
54


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
"Then get into it quick! And remember that
if you show your head again before we reach Sofia,
you will be met there by a gendarme."
I slammed his door on him and walked down
the corridor to the girl, who, still lost in her
thoughts, had not turned round. The incident
had at least provided a very tangible excuse for
speaking to her.
"I trust you will pardon me,'' I began, grandly.
"I just now found one of these thieving little
natives trying to go through the luggage in your
compartment. He"
She wheeled upon me like a flash, her face
deadly pale; and simultaneously, her fingers sought
the little hand-bag which she carried, feeling its
contents. The safety of something valuable was
thereby evidently assured; for the look of terror
in her eyes suddenly gave place to one of relief.
"Oh! What a shock you gave me. A thief,
you say?"
"Yes. I don't think that he managed to
confiscate anything; but perhaps you had better
go in and see. The man is shut up in his own
55


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
would be better for her to have a protector at
hand. She rather scoffed at the idea at first, but
the wedge once having entered, I did not propose
to lose my advantage, and insisted.
"And so, to make it perfectly proper for me to
sit here with you," I concluded, with high-handed
determination, "I will introduce myself. My
name is Markham; John Markham, of New York.
You know," I added, "we do it at table d'hote."
She burst out laughing.
"I suppose we do. And really I ought to thank
you for your solicitude. It is very foolish of me,
I know; but I am nervous. I have been over
this route a score of times, but I can never forget
that this very train was once held up by brigands."
"Will you please tell me whether the date of
this coin is odd or even," I interrupted.
"Why, what are you doing?"
"Trying to decide whether to call you Miss
Smith or Miss Jones. You have n't told me your
real name, you know."
"Oh, how stupid! You are very persistent,
are n't you? My name is Ewing, please, my Lord."
57


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Thank you," I laughed. "Now we are on a
proper footing." Then, more seriously, as we sat
down: "Won't you tell me something about
this region? You say you know it. Ever since
daylight I have done nothing but marvel over the
landscapes and the people; and yet I am as
ignorant about it all as a clam."
Her face at once grew serious, almost enrap-
tured, as she glanced out at the long rolling plain
and the faint distant mountain line.
"Indeed, you may well marvel! With all its
backwardness, its poverty and ignorance, it is one
of the grandest countries in the world. I was
born here in Bulgaria, and I love every inch of it."
"Born here? Ewing is n't exactly a Bul-
garian name, is it?"
"Oh, I am a thoroughbred American, of course.
But Father, who is a civil engineer, spent a long
time here, just after the war between Turkey and
Russia, superintending the construction of some
public works. We did n't go back to America
until I was eight years old. And, now that Father
has retired from business, love for this quaint
58


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
country has brought us back again. He has
endowed a couple of training schools here and, for
the last three years, while they were being built,
we have been dividing our time between Sofia
and Constantinople."
"Don't you find it rather rough living?" I
ventured.
"Oh, not a bit of it. In Constantinople we
have our own house. And even in Sofia the better
classes are cosmopolitan and talk and dress and
eat just like anyone else. But it is the peasant
that fascinates me. We Americans, who are so
spoiled by big things, rather scoff at the back-
wardness and insignificance of these little Balkan
States. But look out the window at the three
peasants in that road, with their sheepskin coats
and swaddled legs. They seem primitive enough,
I admit. But just think of what those men have
been through, and of what a country they are
building up, with no foundation except their own
untutored energy. For centuries and centuries
their ancestors have been worse than slaves,
without rights; robbed, persecuted. They have
59


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
worshipped their God, even, only under fear of
massacre. Twenty-five years ago they were set free
from Turkish rule. Their very instincts of self-
government had been smothered by their masters,
and they were a race of peasants. They were
given a country which, from end to end, had been
ravaged and laid waste by the struggles of two
foreign armies. Their cities were in ruins. And
yet see what they have done. Look at their
municipal government, their schools, their"
She paused for breath. The municipal gov-
ernment of Bulgarian cities, I must confess, held
for the moment much less of interest for me than
did her great brown eyes and the cheeks flushed
with the fervor of her argument. But if only that
I might enjoy the contemplation of these, I con-
tinued baiting her.
"But is it fair to ascribe all this progress to
the people themselves?" I asked. "Didn't
the Powers assume both the initiative and the
responsibility in reforms, as well as in other
things, when they appointed Alexander of Batten-
berg, a member of one of their own royal families,
60


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
to govern the principality? Yes, and followed
that by the selection of Prince Ferdinand as his
successor?"
Miss Ewing instantly bridled.
"The Powers, indeed! What sympathy have
they with the interests of Bulgaria? Alexander
was simply an agent selected to further their own
schemes; and Ferdinand is another. If England
had the welfare of the Christians of the Balkan
Peninsula at heart, there would be no Macedonian
Question to trouble the conscience of Europe.
But instead of assisting them, she simply ties
Bulgaria's hands, and refuses to let her protect
even her own people. And it is the same with
Austria. The only one of the Powers that has
shown any charity at all is Russia. But even
after Russia herself had gone to the extent of
shedding her blood to relieve the Balkans of
Turkish oppression, the others intervened and sent
the Macedonians back into servitude. Do you
think that nations which would do that could care
anything for the principles of humanity, or give
Bulgaria their miserable Alexander from any
61


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
altruistic motives? What Bulgaria needs to-day
is a ruler of her own race, not a foreigner whose
patriotism is made to order. If she were once
given such a leader, Bulgarian troops would
within a year end the Turkish massacres in
Macedonia, and bring freedom to two million
souls."
I cannot say that I agreed with all this. Miss
Ewing's enthusiasm perhaps rendered her judg-
ment somewhat partial; but she, herself, at any
rate, was thoroughly satisfied as to the correct
method of solving the problem of the near East.
We discussed its pros and cons quite elaborately;
and then the conversation drifted off to less
weighty matters. Here I found her as witty and
bright as, in her larger beliefs, she was energetic.
The hours and miles were passing very quickly by
and I had almost forgotten my aching head, when
she suddenly spoke of it.
"What an awful bruise that is on your temple.
How did you come by it?" she asked "You
did n't have it when I saw you in Constantinople."
The question, or rather her naive way of asking
62


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
it, took my breath away. I had opined that, unless
I was all wrong in attaching significance to her
part in the incident of the red dahlia, she knew
very well the cause, not only of that wound, but
also of my subsequent captivity and deportation.
Her eyes, nevertheless, gave indication only of a
sympathetic interest.
"I am not quite sure as to how I did receive it,"
I answered; "though I am rather glad it hap-
pened. Otherwise I would n't be here. I had
quite a series of adventures after meeting you.
They extended all the way from assault to de-
portation."
She looked at me with wide opened eyes.
"Oh! How interesting. Tell me about it,"
she commanded.
I went over the story of my rough experience;
but avoided all show of connection between it
and the travels of the dahlia stem. My fingers
had already been burned by that conspiracy, if
conspiracy there was, and I proposed henceforth
to steer clear of the role of the dangerous man
who knows too much. I looked for some sign
63


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
of relief, in my companion's face, at my apparent
failure to put two and two together. But she
was either wholly innocent or a consummate
actress. I might have been talking to a sympa-
thetic child.
"Speaking of Constantinople, by the way," I
remarked, with all available lightness, "I trust you
have treasured that dahlia stem."
She hesitated for just the slightest breath. It
might have been only embarrassment which flushed
her face with red. I hardly dared observe her
closely, and could not tell.
"I — I — Was n't that the most ridiculous
scene?" she exclaimed, with a laugh. "I hon-
estly could n't help it. The setting was too roman-
tic not to have some action in it. I was awfully
forward, I know; but" — she used her eyes a bit,
here — "But I think you forgave me."
"Not on the spot. Now that I have found you
again, however, you are pardoned."
She laughed again, and turned the conversation.
And I did not learn, from her own lips, whether
the dahlia had been preserved or not.
64


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
Late in the afternoon the train pulled into the
station at Sofia, and we prepared to alight. The
inquisitive gentleman whom I had found investigat-
ing Miss Ewing's valise had taken my admonition
to heart; and not until we ourselves were almost
at the door did he emerge from his compartment.
I saw him as he came out, and turned to Miss
Ewing.
"There's the chap who was trying to rob you,"
I whispered.
She glanced back over her shoulder. This
time her naivete did break down. She grew
absolutely white, and reeled for an instant against
the side of the car. Then, as I stretched out a
quick hand to prevent her from falling, she braced
herself to a tremendous effort for self-control, and
proceeded out the door.
Suddenly, while deep in wonder and concern, I
felt an appealing hand rest upon my arm.
"I can trust you, can I not?" She spoke
eagerly, in a low, hurried tone.
"Absolutely."
"Then listen. Stop at the Hotel Macedonia.
65


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
Three days from now, come to me. I will let you
know where I am to be. But if you don't hear
from me, take this to the Sveti Stefano. The
Sveti Stefano; do you understand?" she whis-
pered, rapidly and almost inaudibly. "Put it in
your pocket; quick. And now, good-bye; we must
not be seen talking together."
My hand mechanically closed upon a small
hard object.
"But I — I—"I began.
"There is no time. Hide it," she whispered, and
darted away down the step.
I thrust the thing into my inside pocket, and with
my fingers still undecidedly touching it, watched
her disappear into the crowd emerging upon the
platform. A voice at my elbow roused me.
"Hotel Macedonia, sir?"
I nodded assent. The burly runner who had
spoken gathered up my belongings, and pushed
them and me into one of several omnibuses. It
was not until I had been deposited at the hotel and
was alone in my room that I ventured to make an
examination. Then I found that the thing which
66


THE SILVER VINAIGRETTE
I was to take to the Sveti Stefano, whoever or
whatever that might be, was a silver vinaigrette
about five inches long. And inside it was the
stem of a dahlia, with a few shrunken petals
clinging to its heart.
67





CHAPTER V.
ON A BLIND TRAIL
/^OMMON sense told me that under the
circumstances there was only one course to
be pursued. Had I followed it, I would have
trampled that wretched emblem of conspiracy to
unrecognizable pulp, and thrown the vinaigrette
out the window. But I did not. Miss Ewing —
I began to doubt whether that was really her name
— had asked me whether she could trust me, and
I had answered, "absolutely." Much as I should
have liked to go back on my word, I could not
bring myself to the point of throwing her over.
It was a clear question of practical prudence
versus quixotic chivalry. And yet, with the
memory of that frightened face before me, even
more beautiful in doubt and trouble than in
repose, I deliberately chose the quixotic course.
There remained, therefore, but to use all possible
68


ON A BLIND TRAIL
it was absolutely necessary to secure some con-
nections or other in the city. But I resolved
to put off this step until later, that I might first
establish myself in the role of tourist.
As good fortune would have it, my sight-seeing
itself gave me the first inkling as to the objective
point of my mysterious mission. I spent the next
morning in roaming about the city, peeking into a
corner here, a corner there; at one moment
thoroughly at home in such a formal, even-fronted
street as one might find in any town of Western
Europe; hobnobbing at the next with sheepskin-
coated peasants before the dark booths of an ori-
ental bazaar, or pausing for a glimpse through some
window at which might be seen a quaint old
woman weaving her granddaughter's gala-costume
on an antiquated loom. I found that Sofia had
much history. From the crumbling walls of the old
Byzantine town, to the mosques, abandoned, turned
into museums, into schools, after the Turkish
emigration of twenty years ago, clear object lessons
told the successive chapters of its story. One old
church, or rather the ruin of what appeared to
7'


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
have been a church, especially interested me; a
dilapidated round tower on a square foundation,
tucked away in one of the side streets, and
evidently aged beyond the ordinary, even for the
capitol of a Byzantine province. I tried to find
among the passers-by someone who could tell me
its name. But none of them understood what I
said. The third man whom I accosted, however,
apparently at least comprehended my wish. He
answered me in two words: "Sveti Georgi."
It was not much; but I at least knew, now, that
Sveti Stefano had something to do with either a
church or ruin. Georgi and Stefano were obvi-
ously proper names.
In the course of the afternoon I called upon the
British Consul, offering as an excuse for my visit
the question as to the advisability of complaining
to the American Minister at Constantinople about
my deportation. Mr. Fenn-Brook, as the Consul
was called, was a very jolly, red-cheeked young
man, well-bred and typical of his class; a young
man of broad, practical ideas, by heritage and
instinct a diplomat; and now just completing
72


ON A BLIND TRAIL
the course of training through which Great Britain
puts the oncoming guardians of her international
affairs. He listened with interest to my carefully
expurgated story, and, when I had finished, burst
into a roar of laughter.
"By Jove, Mr. Markham," he finally managed
to exclaim, "they did hook you, did n't they? If
Turkey would only devote as much attention to
growing oysters on its men-of-war as to possible
conspiracies, it would become the richest power
on the continent. But seriously, you know, my
advice is to let the matter drop — that is, if you
wish ever to return to Constantinople. We find
any number of cases such as yours. Some idiotic,
bustling official gets an idea into his head that he
is of more importance than all the Franks in
Christendom; and this is always the way of show-
ing it. The chances are that, even if you com-
plained, your minister would be met by a denial
from the Porte that anything of the kind had ever
occurred. But from that moment on, you know,
you would be a marked man in Constantinople.
Go back there peacefully, to-morrow, on the other
73


ON A BLIND TRAIL
As I reached the door, I turned, as if by an after-
thought.
"By the way," I asked, "can you tell me what
that old ruin near the cathedral is — I mean the
little one with the round tower? I"
"The English chapel, as we call it? It is the
Church of St. George. The old pile has rather a
history, in a way. It was originally a pagan
temple. Then Constantine made a church out of
it, and finally the Turks changed it into a mosque.
Rather interesting, that, isn't it?"
"Thanks. It certainly is. The ruin must be
about the oldest building here, is n't it? I was
much taken by it this afternoon. Oh, I forgot.
At what time do you dine?"
"Seven. I shall call for you. You are stop-
ping at the Macedonia, I assume."
"Yes. I 'll be waiting for you. In the mean-
while I think I shall put in a little more time at
sight-seeing. One of my friends told me to be
sure to visit the Church of St. Stefano before I left.
I think I 'll go there now. Can you tell me where
it is?"
75


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
My diplomatic assay was of no avail.
"St. Stefano's? I know of no such place."
"Are you sure? He could hardly have been
mistaken."
"It is new to me. But wait a moment. We
can look it up."
He went to the bookcase and took down an
official-looking volume.
"It is as I thought," he said, after a moment's
search. "There is no such church in Sofia."
I cannot say that as I walked back to the hotel
my task seemed any the less difficult. The arena
had widened from the confines of Sofia to the
whole of Bulgaria; and to locate an insignificant
church in that wide range of territory, and without
diligent and open inquiry, seemed almost an
impossibility. My one clue was the fact that Miss
Ewing had elected as a centre for her operations
the city of Sofia. She had apparently intended to
deliver the dahlia stem in person; therefore, I
argued, its destination was in all probability a
spot not so far removed from the city as to make
the journey an arduous one for a woman to
76


ON A BLIND TRAIL
undertake. That I might easily be mistaken in
these premises, I knew. But if I was, the propo-
sition seemed almost hopeless. I admit praying
most fervently for the only thing which could
bring relief from such perplexity — a note from
Miss Ewing. But my box at the hotel was empty.
The porter, however, had a surprise for me.
"A gentleman has twice been here to see Mr.
Markham. He would leave no card, sir. He
says that he will call again."
A visitor? I was not aware of a single acquain-
tanceship east of Vienna. Visions of the Con-
stantinople police came to my mind.
"An American?" I asked, carelessly.
"No. A Bulgarian gentleman."
"An — an official?" To save my life I could
not have kept down that choking sensation.
"No. That is, at least, he wore civilian clothes."
The relief was great. "Very well," I directed.
"In case he comes before seven o'clock, you can
show him to my room."
I nevertheless went upstairs in a state of sus-
pense. It was barely possible, of course, that the
77


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
visitor was an emissary of Miss Ewing; but I
reasoned that if she sent for me at all, the word
would come in the shape of an ordinary invitation
to call upon her. That would certainly be the
most natural and also the least suspicious method
of re-obtaining possession of the vinaigrette. It
seemed far more probable that I myself had again
fallen into the toils.
I spent a miserable two hours in my room, dread-
ing the expected visit yet kept a prisoner by my
anxiety to see the man and have it out. I idled
away the time in a thousand and one ways, my
heart in none of them; writing letters, only to
tear them up; stropping all my razors; listing
photographs; and what not else; growing more
nervous and tense with each successive occupa-
tion. It was nearly seven o'clock before there
came the awaited knock at my door; and then
entered — the fellow whom I had detected at
Miss Ewing's valise.
"Monsieur Markham," he at once began, in
French, "permit me to introduce myself. My
name is Paroff. I am the Secretary to the
78


ON A BLIND TRAIL
Bulgarian Political Agent in Constantinople. We
met under rather unusual circumstances yester-
day; otherwise I should have made myself known
to you at that time. But for certain reasons I
thought it better to avoid any confusion."
I bowed.
"You probably thought very wisely. Whether
I did the same remains to be seen. The young
lady"
"Oh, but it is of Mile. Ewing that I wish to
speak. You know her well, perhaps?"
"I fail to see why I should discuss Miss Ewing
with you."
"Pardon! Pray be careful Monsieur. We
are dealing with much weightier matters than you
suppose."
I contented myself with a shrug of the shoulders.
"You are a stranger to the Balkans, are you
not?" he resumed, after a pause.
"I have a three days' acquaintance with the
country."
He raised his hand in deprecation. "That is
very little, Monsieur. Otherwise you would
79


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
know that it is not well to dabble in conspiracies
here."
"Your visit and conversation would probably
become more intelligible if you told me what the
conspiracy is in which I am supposed to be mixed
up."
He smiled enigmatically.
"Has Mile. Ewing not told you?"
"She certainly has not."
"You have not known Miss Ewing long? In
America, perhaps?"
"I have not. I had never known even her
name until yesterday, after you tried to rob her
valise."
"Oh, Monsieur; not 'rob,'" he protested, with
exasperating condescension. "My duty made it
necessary to ascertain whether Mile. Ewing's
valise contained no papers which might be of
value to us."
Thus far our fencing had been done on our feet.
After recognizing my visitor I had seen no occasion
for undue politeness or for even inviting him to be
seated. But, as he smiled out his last words with
80


ON A BLIND TRAIL
all the suavity of a wily Slav, he calmly walked
over to my desk, sat down in the chair before it,
and glanced at a half-finished letter. The auda-
city of the action was too much for me.
"Get up from that chair, you insolent spy,"
I demanded. He rose, and I went on: "Now,
see here, Monsieur What's-your-name, you already
have cause to know that I dislike scenes. But
you can take your choice between two things.
Either you justify this behavior by telling me
exactly what this plot is in which Miss Ewing
and I are supposed to be involved, or you will
pardon my violence if I kick you from the
room."
He calmly resumed his seat, and, with his
shoulders hunched up, his hands, palms together,
between his knees, smiled a cunning, evasive
smile.
"Pardon, Monsieur," he said. "I did not
accuse you yourself of being involved in anything
at all. But Mile. Ewing, Monsieur, is engaged
in a conspiracy to sell"
He was interrupted by a vigorous rap at the
81


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
door, followed by the appearance within the room
of the jolly red face of the British Consul.
"All ready, Mr. Markham?"
His eye fell upon my insolent visitor.
"Hello!" he cried, to my utter surprise. "Where
in the world did you come from, Paroff? I had
no idea that you two men knew one another.
Has Markham told you that we are dining together
at the club to-night? You will of course come
with us, won't you?"
Monsieur Paroff rose serenely to his feet.
"Wiz ze great plaisair," said he, in English.
82


CHAPTER VI
THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
rINHERE was nothing for it but to yield to the
situation with the best possible grace;
the Consul, either from stupidity or from sheer
wilfulness, refusing to see that anything was
wrong. Arm in arm with Paroff on the one
side and myself on the other, he conducted us
to the club, keeping up a running fire of con-
versation on the way; conversation which set my
spine a-shivering.
"You are quite the best person we could
have found to dine with us, Paroff. Markham
here is rather an expert at diplomatic intrigue;
are you not, Markham? Do you know, Paroff,
he thrust his nose into a deep conspiracy before
he had been in the East twelve hours. In fact,
he is here because the Constantinople police
disapprove of him. You must tell Paroff that
83


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
yarn, over the soup, Markham. And Paroff will
repay you with the latest developments in this
last mystery. Won't you, Paroff? Unless Mark-
ham was in the plot himself, as he probably was,
the whole story may be news to him."
"What story is that," I asked.
"The Bulgarian Political Agent in Constan-
tinople seems to have been objectionable to
someone," returned Fenn-Brook. "At any rate,
he has been kidnapped. It happened, by the
way, on the very night of your own adventure
there."
"Ah—h," breathed the slippery secretary, "Mon-
sieur Markham certainly must tell us of his adven-
ture. He dislikes to talk of himself. He has not
yet related it to me."
I made up my mind then and there that he
would never hear it, at least from my own lips. I
cast about for some other topic of conversation;
but Fenn-Brook himself introduced a new theme,
which proved equally merciless.
"By the way, Markham, we have been enjoying
the society of a very charming countrywoman of
84


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
yours, a Miss Ewing, of Cleveland or some such
place. Do you chance to know her?"
I shuddered.
"She was on the train coming from Constantino-
ple yesterday. I had a little talk with her then,"
I answered.
"Capital sort of a girl, is n't she? Rich, too.
I dare say those things are exaggerated a bit,
but people say that her father has a tremendous
pile. We are quite daft over her here in Sofia.
All the bachelors in the diplomatic corps are down-
right in love with her, and there's some danger of
international complications. All, that is, you
know, except Paroff. He is quite the last horse
in the race; aren't you Paroff? We really
should n't talk of her, Markham. Paroff is quite
cut up. She snubs him right and left. I 'll lay
a pony, though, that he proposes to her in spite
of himself."
"Pardon? I do not understand the English ver'
well," said Paroff, stiffly.
"Oh, yes you do. You know it perfectly. But
you can tell your love affairs in French, if you wish.
85


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
Fenn-Brook led us directly, asking, as we crossed
the reading room,
"Which do you prefer, Markham, a table for
three, or to dine with the crowd? All the bachelors
in the corps eat here, you know."
Believing that greater safety lay in the greater
number, I promptly elected to meet his confreres.
"Very well. Come along. I 'll introduce you.
Gentlemen, permit me to present my friend, Mr.
Markham, of America." And he rolled off to
me a long list of "ofFs" and "itches," in response
to each of which some man rose, bowed low over
the table, and gravely resumed his seat. The air
seemed somewhat frigid for the moment; but
Fenn-Brook promptly broke the ice. He would
endure no formality.
"Sit there, Markham, and you, Paroff, next
him." He took his place at the head of the table
and turned to an olive-skinned gentleman in
extremely loud clothes — "I say, Lapouros, why
can't your people keep your beggarly Greeks in
Macedonia quiet. Do you know they have been
killing a lot of Bulgarians again? I had to see the
87


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
Prince about it to-day and lost my morning canter.
I have been bilious ever since as a result."
The Greek representative bowed.
"IfMonsieurleCon"
"Oh, cut titles during dinner. I will call upon
you formally about it to-morrow. I spoke of it
now only because I have no appetite. Waiter,
some burgundy. By the way, Shevutkin, speak-
ing en famille, is it true that you had a hand in this
disappearance of the Bulgarian Agent in Con-
stantinople? There's a rumor about to that
effect."
The gentleman addressed as Shevutkin smiled.
"Russia does not descend to such play, my
friend."
"Oh yes she does. You need n't be ashamed.
It is quite legitimate down here you know; espe-
cially if it is as well done as in this instance. What
is your own explanation of the affair, Paroff?"
Paroff hesitated.
"I—I have nothing on which to base a theory,"
he finally remarked. "Everyone knows as much
about it as I do; which is simply that my chief


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
left his bureau about four o'clock in the after-
noon, last Tuesday, and has not yet returned.
Until further details have been acquired there is
no good in discussing it. I am sure," he added
softly, "that the gentlemen would be much more
interested in this mysterious adventure which Mr.
Markham experienced on the same evening."
Their eyes turned upon me. In my anger I
could have risen and choked the man for his calm,
smooth insolence. But no appropriate excuse
for avoiding his challenge offered itself, and I was
obliged to tell the story as best I could. It was
not a simple task; for I was conscious throughout
that if the assumed conspiracy was at all extensive
in its scope, some one, at least, of that diplomatic
assemblage must certainly be cognizant of it;
and that, for such a one, I was betraying to the
public a conspirator's secret. I tried to study
unobserved the faces of my hearers, that I might
know from whom to expect danger. But only once
did I detect a suspicious sign, and this came from
Paroff himself. I gave the same version of the
story as I had previously rendered to Miss Ewing
89


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
and to Fenn-Brook, omitting all reference to what
had happened on the bridge and claiming that I
first saw the priest only on the road up the Bos-
phorus. It was at this point that I heard Paroff
utter three words.
"Ah! a priest."
His voice was low, very low, his lips hardly
giving an indication that he had spoken. But
in a flash I recalled something which, until that
moment, had escaped my memory; the picture of
the priest standing in conversation with another,
smaller man, just after he had left the street-car.
In the deep twilight I had been unable to distin-
guish this man's features, but I remembered his
stature, and still more, his bearing. And stature
and bearing were those of Paroff, the man beside
me at the table.
I do not believe that my face showed anything.
I know my voice did not. But to finish that
story was a work of mental anguish. I managed
to do it and had the sense to enlarge, before I had
finished, on my absolute ignorance of even the
appearance of my captors and the whereabouts of
90


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
my prison; and to remain silent as to both the
blond-haired girl and the fact that the room next
mine was the prison of another. Paroff, I think,
was little wiser when I ended than before I began.
And as for myself, I had learned two things: First,
that the captured Greek priest and the missing
Bulgarian Agent were one; second, that when
Paroff said that the Agent was last seen at four
o'clock on that afternoon, he lied, for he himself
had seen his chief at seven.
The rest of the meal passed off quietly enough,
and I soon recovered my equilibrium. For the
matter of that, I even began to find a certain charm
in the unique atmosphere of my surroundings. It
was strange to see these pigmies aping the manners
of a great diplomatic corps; preserving — so far
at least as Fenn-Brook would let them — an atti-
tude of the most weighty and grandiose reticence,
insisting to the end upon the dignity of their calling;
resolutely refusing to admit that their powers were
not plenipotentiary in fact as well as in name.
Well, it was an amusing game, and perfectly safe.
They could fuss and bicker and present their
9i


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
grievances and threaten ad libitum; take them-
selves most seriously; and yet, after all, every
make-believe diplomat there must have known
that his hands were absolutely tied, that his govern-
ment could not back up a single demand without
the prior consent of Mother Europe.
Dinner over, six or eight of us adjourned to the
bowling alley, where the bars of State were suffi-
ciently lowered to permit of an international match.
With the rivalry of the game and the circulation
of more wine, as the evening wore on, we actually
began to manufacture fun. The reading room,
behind us, also gradually wakened up, and through
the folding doors I could see a number of drinking
parties gathered about the tables. One of them,
seated close by the entrance of the alley, threatened
even to become hilarious. By midnight it had
passed from hilarious to worse; and just about
midnight occurred the last unfortunate event of
the evening.
I was at the time engaged in a game in which
the Servian representative and I were standing
Fenn-Brook and someone else, no matter whom.
92


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
At any rate, the score was close and the outcome
depended upon me, With a chance to tie, my last
ball rolled off into the gutter, ten feet from my
hand. The shouts of victory and discomfiture,
respectively, attracted the attention of the drunken
crowd by the door, and just at that moment Fenn-
Brook made a disastrous remark.
"By Jove, Markham," said he, "you must never
tell your friend, Miss Ewing, of that shot. She
would disown you as a fellow-countryman."
With the words, one of the men outside rolled
into the room, glass in hand. I recognized him
at once, although the last time I had seen him he
had worn a fez and the imitation frock coat of a
clerk at the Porte. It was the dandified little
Turk, or rather the fellow whom I had apparently
mistaken for a Turk, who had dropped the dahlia
stem at my feet on the Galata Bridge.
He came up to us, looking at Fenn-Brook and
myself.
"Meesh Ewing? Who I hear shpeak ze name ze
Meesh Ewing?" he demanded, thickly, in broken
English. "I proposhe ze toas 'Meesh Ewing.'"
93


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
As politeness, even under such circumstances,
required, Fenn-Brook and I reached for our
glasses. The incident would have been over and
forgotten the next moment had the intruder not
seen fit to proceed, with the astounding words,
"I make ze marr'ge wiz Meesh Ewing."
Fenn-Brook laughed and raised his glass. He
may possibly have regarded it merely as the sense-
less ebullition of an intoxicated man about the
reigning belle.
"I congratulate you, Zemoff," he returned,
lightly. "When does the event occur?"
As for myself — Well, to make my position clear,
I must first of all explicitly disclaim any belief in
the nonsense of love at first sight. I deny that
even at that moment I thought of Miss Ewing in
any such light. But those words roused in me an
ire unmanageable. I realized in an instant that,
ever since my handing her that dahlia stem on the
Galata Bridge, she had scarcely been out of my
thoughts; that, although it was not for love I
was putting my head in a noose, it was at least for
a feeling far beyond any which an acquaintance-
94


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
ship of a few hours would normally produce.
Call it interest if you will. At any rate, its depth
was sufficient to make my blood boil now. That
its object should be married to this silly, insigni-
ficant, paralyzed fool! I raised my glass, as if to
accept the toast, and then dashed it, contents and
all, upon the alley floor. Then, picking up
Paroff's glass, I turned to Fenn-Brook.
"To the safe future of Miss Ewing," I said, and
clinked with him.
The room was in an uproar in an instant.
Zemoff, as Fenn-Brook had called the cad, turned
absolutely green with drunken rage.
"Wha'! Wha'! You do drink wish him an' yet
wish me not!"
"I will drink that toast with any gentleman;
not with a drunken little Bulgarian sot."
"Bravo!" I heard a voice behind me say; "you
certainly do put your foot in it, Markham, but —
Bravo!"
I remember only very indistinctly the rest of
what happened. The picture comes to me, rather
confusedly, of Fenn-Brook and myself standing
95


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
alone at the head of the alley, and the excited
crowd, of both our quondam friends and the new-
comers, lined up against us. One of their number
came forward and spoke to me in French, very
formally.
"My friend, M. Zemoff, will permit me to act
for him. Will Monsieur kindly give me his
card?"
I mechanically handed one to him.
"And Monsieur is staying where?"
"At the Hotel Macedonia."
"Very good. I trust that Monsieur will find
it convenient to be there to-morrow morning."
Then, if I remember rightly, he bowed and with-
drew, and Fenn-Brook, thrusting his arm under
mine, conducted me past the crowd and out of the
club.
The cool air of the September night revived
me. Fenn-Brook proposed that we walk about
a little before going to bed.
"You see," said he, "we may as well begin at
once to make our plans for to-morrow."
"You think then, that he will send a challenge?"
96


THE COST OF A BAD SHOT
"Send a challenge? There is no possible doubt
of it."
"And that I should accept?"
My companion paused for thought.
"My dear fellow," he answered, finally, "this
thing places me in a devilishly peculiar position.
Of cdurse, as His Majesty's representative here,
His Majesty being opposed to duelling, I could not
possibly challenge anyone, myself, nor accept a
challenge. I could not even act as a second. I
doubt whether even advising you to go into the
thing would not be taken amiss. But on the other
hand, the code is rather strongly lived up to in
these countries, and you were at the club as my
guest. Not that you were not quite justified, you
know. But nevertheless, you did give him a hard
rap; and honestly, old fellow, it appears to me that
it would be rather like hitting a chap and then
running away, if you were to leave Sofia now.
That is," he hastened to add, "unless you have
religious scruples, or something of that sort."
I smiled rather bitterly. "I can't exactly claim
that I approve of duelling. But that need make
97


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
no difference. Whom on earth can I get to second
me?"
"Paroff will do it. I 'II arrange that. If you
don't hear from me to-morrow, send Zemoff's
friends, when they come, to him. I 'm awfully
sorry, you know, old chap, that I cannot do it
myself. And now here we are at your hotel.
Take my advice and don't do any beastly worry-
ing. Get a good night's sleep. They will proba-
bly wish to push the thing through at once."
98


CHAPTER VII
A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
T DID my best to follow out Fenn-Brook's
suggestion, and prepare myself, by a good
night's rest, for whatever ordeal the morrow might
bring forth. Perhaps I should have grown accus-
tomed to ordeals by this time. I had been in the
Levant for four days; during that period I had
been assaulted, kidnapped, deported, and become
involved in a wide-spread conspiracy. And now
I had a duel on my hands. For happenings to an
ordinary, peaceful tourist, the list was rather for-
midable. And, to add to it, I was on the verge
of falling in love with the girl who was indirectly
responsible for every bit of the trouble; whom I
had seen only twice, talked to for only four hours;
and who, I had reason to believe, was engaged to
be married to the very man against whom I was
engaged to fight.
99


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
No wonder that my sleep was anything but
restful. If I closed my eyes, I saw the image of
Miss Ewing going through the marriage ceremony
with that miserable creature, Zemoff; a Zemoff
expandible and recollapsible; swelling, against
an indefinite, unpictured background, until he
reached so great a size that the fez in which I had
first noticed him sat on his head like a thimble;
then shrinking, shrinking, until he became a mid-
get; grotesquely misshapen, a phantom, drunken
and repulsive. And yet the nightmare was no
worse than my waking thoughts. I had bungled
everything, and, so far as I could see, the greatest
blunder of all was still to come. Strangely enough
the danger of being killed in my meeting with
Zemoff did not particularly trouble me; for the
spirit of battle still possessed my mind. But I
did see endless complications arising in the event
of my being laid hors de combat. If I failed to
deliver the dahlia stem, the result might be to any
extent disastrous to Miss Ewing. On the other
hand, assume that I killed Zemoff, or at least
badly wounded him. Would not that, perhaps,
IOO


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
be equally embarrassing to her. Zemoff was
evidently one of the arch-conspirators, and there
was no knowing how much his death or incapacita-
tion would affect the outcome of their plans. I
laughed aloud as I recognized the truth, that the
prime object of my existence had become the
furtherance of a plot of which I knew not the
slightest detail or purpose, and the central token
of which was the miserable stem of a dried-up
flower.
No, it was not the furtherance of any plot at all.
There was no need for self deception. It was
those brown eyes, frightened and appealing until
they had searched my own, and then lighted by a
sudden trust. "Take this" she had said. "Take
this to the Sveti Stefano." And therewith had
spoken the voice of danger. I am not, and
never have been, a professional knight-errant.
And no man, unless hardened by over-familiarity
with such distress, could have escaped being
swamped by the romance, if not by the practical
aspect, of the situation; by the mistress if not by
the task.
IOI


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
seemed simple; and it was further simplified by
my finding in the morning's mail this note:
Dear Mr. Markham:
If you have nothing better to do, come over and see me
this morning. I shall be in until eleven. I am visiting my
friend, Mme. Bantscha, 82 Boulevard Ferdinand I. You will
find us two flights up.
Very sincerely,
Martha Ewing.
I figured that at the earliest I could not see her
until half past nine, but resolved that it should
be no later. In the meantime, I had only to re-
strain my impatience, and loaf about the hotel in
the hope that Zemoff's emissaries would call upon
me before that hour. The clock's hands crept
slowly round, however, and they did not come.
As the time for my visit approached, I determined to
go so openly, even ostentatiously, as to completely
disarm any suspicion on the part of possible
watchers that I knew what was up. I accordingly
put the vinaigrette in my pocket, left Miss Ewing's
note lying open upon the table, and bade the porter
send any callers to my room. I expected to be
back, I told him, within the hour. Then I
103


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
entered a cab, and had the porter himself direct
the driver to Mme. Bantscha's residence.
I think Miss Ewing was en the watch for me.
At any rate, I had hardly time to ask the neat
maid who opened the door the conventional
questions before she herself appeared in the
hallway.
"Oh, I 'm so glad you came," she exclaimed
in greeting. "You are promptness itself, are you
not? Come in here and tell me what you have
seen of this good city."
She opened the door of a sitting-room and led
me inside. Then, when she had closed it, her
composure dropped from her as a cloak.
"Tell me," she whispered, half eagerly, half
in dread, "have you been troubled by anyone?
Has everything gone well? Have they suspected
you?"
There is no need of denying my weakness.
With her very first words, if not, indeed, with the
first sight of her, my morning's resolutions had
evaporated; had evaporated so completely that
I did not even recall them to my mind. Lying
104


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
sleepless in bed at night, my position in this affair
had seemed, to say the least, exceptional. There
in that room, with its strange, half Oriental, half
German furnishings, with the low whisper of the
distressed, excited girl sounding in my ears, the
role of a conspirator became not only perfectly
natural to me, but even welcome. The formal
announcement of withdrawal from the game,
which I had so carefully framed, remained un-
spoken. Instead, I fell into her own tone of
secrecy.
"No. That is, I don't think they have pitched
on me at all, as yet. But — but Paroff came to
see me yesterday evening. We dined together
at the club. I thought it best for you to know it."
"And he questioned you?"
"More or less. He wanted to know about
you."
"About me?" She gave a defiant little laugh.
"He knows about me already. What particular
questions did he ask? Can you remember them?"
"He is rather close on your trail, I think, Miss
Ewing. He wanted, more especially, to find out
105


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
whether you and I knew each other well enough
for you to confide your secrets to me. I intimated
that we did not. That is about all."
The look of dread vanished from her face.
"Oh, what a relief," she cried. "You cannot
know how bitterly I have reproached myself for
having dragged you into this affair. How you
must hate me for it. I"
"Pardon me for contradicting, Miss Ewing,"
I broke in. "You did not drag me in. You
must admit that I came very willingly."
"You were too generous not to do so. But
after I saw who it was that had searched my lug-
gage, or tried to search it, there seemed no other
way of hiding the vinaigrette. May I tell you
that in taking charge of it you have done me an
inestimable service. Even here in this apartment,
my room was gone through, last evening."
"What!"
"Yes; while we were at dinner. I think
Paroff himself must have been here."
"No, that could not have been the case. Paroff
was with me until midnight. And incidentally,
106


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
are you sure that they had the vinaigrette in mind?
Paroff told me openly who he was, and why he was
searching your valise. He claimed that he was
after some state papers, or something of that kind.
From the nature of our conversation, I believe
that if he had known of the vinaigrette or — or
its contents — he would have mentioned it. He
was very eager for information."
"I don't know," she answered, thoughtfully.
"I am afraid of that man. He is n't honest. I
don't believe that he is honest even to his Govern-
ment. He would have told you nothing more
nor less than suited his purpose; and even then he
would gladly have lied."
"I tried to force some of his knowledge, but
could get little that was positive. He did make
the definite statement, however, that you were
engaged in a plot to sell — Bulgaria."
Our eyes met sharply for an instant, and then
Miss Ewing, with flushed face, walked to the
window. She stood there an age, it seemed,
gazing pensively out upon the Boulevard and
down the cross-street, where stood the great statue
107


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
of a Russian Czar; the Czar who, to the Bul-
garians, is Alexander the Liberator.
"Do you remember our conversation in the
train, Mr. Markham?" she asked, finally, in a
low tone.
"I do."
"And still you believed what Paroff said?"
I was at her side in a flash. Hang discretion!
"Miss Ewing," I said earnestly, "I believe
just what you yourself wish to tell me; no more,
no less. I know that you, a countrywoman and,
as I flatter myself, a friend, are involved in some
dangerous undertaking. What that undertaking
is I do not care to learn unless by its learning I may
better assist you in your difficulties. But to
assist you as I can is my dearest wish."
"I thank you," she answered simply. "I can-
not tell you what the work is; and yet I think I do
need your help. Someone has played false; I do
not know who. But some of our plans have leaked
out, and — and — the difficulties — are more than
I alone can bear." The sentence ended with a
half-stifled, broken sob.
108


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA'
I myself would be free from suspicion and there-
fore able to make the journey in person. That is
why I was so frightened when I recognized Paroff.
I decided to wait three days to see how far they
suspected me. It is worse than I thought, I fear,
and I dare not go. Will you — start to-night?"
"To-night?" I hesitated. That miserable
affair with Zemoff loomed before me.
"To-morrow morning at the latest, and then
only if you can find a reasonable excuse for the
journey. If not, you must get away in the dark
and, after the vinaigrette has been delivered, leave
Bulgaria at once, without coming back to Sofia."
"I 'll go. It's still to the Sveti Stefano, I assume.
You forget that you have n't told me where that
is. I have n't yet dared to inquire for its location,
beyond ascertaining that there is no such church
in Sofia."
Miss Ewing gave me an approving glance.
"You 're really a born conspirator," she said.
"I 'll get a map and show you the spot."
The map was duly produced and opened upon
the table, and we bent our heads over it — near
no


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
enough together for me to get the full perfume of
her hair. With that entering into my brain I
became ready for any adventure. Miss Ewing
put one finger on the site of Sofia, and with an-
other searched among the dark mountain blotches
on the frontier between Bulgaria and Turkey.
"Here we are — you and I — at this point,"
she explained, gaily, "and down here in the moun-
tains, where you see the little black cross" — she
indicated the spot with a pink fingernail — "is
the monastery."
"Oh, it 's a monastery, then."
"Yes, of course. Didn't you know? But it 's
only a small one. There is a bigger one not
far away, at this spot. That is the Rila
Monastery, and a very famous place. In case
any explanations are necessary, you had better
say that you are going there. The route is
the same as far as Samakoff, you see, or for
the first forty miles. From there you must strike
southeast, instead of southwest, for another
twenty-five. I would n't ask many questions on
the way. As you leave Samakoff, on the road to
in


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
the Rila, take the first turn to your left and keep
on it until you come to the cloister. You cannot
miss it. The road is rough but much better than
any that runs into it, and you won't be tempted
to turn off. The monastery itself is on a crag in
the mountains, just like an old castle, you know,
overlooking the road. It lies about five miles
this side the Turkish frontier. Now listen: When
you get there — Oh, I forgot. You ride, do
you not? Good! From Samakoff on, you will
find it more comfortable to travel on horseback.
When you get there, ask for the Igumen. Can
you remember the name. It means the Abbot.
As soon as you are alone with him, but hot until
then, give him the vinaigrette. He will under-
stand, and ask no questions. If he does, tell him
that everything is well. They will let you sleep
over night at the monastery. After that"
"After that, if there are no more missions to be
performed, I shall come back here and report
to you," I interrupted. "I understand my direc-
tions fairly well, I think. But circumstances over
which I have no control will require my presence
112


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
<
in Sofia until this thing is wound up, Miss Ewing,
and you are out of the woods and safe."
She blushed slightly, but laughingly turned the
remark.
"What an industriously knightly knight you
are. You must be glad that you have n't met
more than one girl here in the Orient. Otherwise
your hands would be altogether too full."
"Oh, one is enough, especially when — Miss
Ewing, I suppose it would be most unchivalrous
in me to ask any payment for performing this
mission?"
The look which came into her face was one
neither of surprise nor disappointment nor con-
tempt, as it well might have been in her mistaken
interpretation of my question. But she was
distressed.
"Oh dear, how stupid and thoughtless of me!"
she exclaimed. "Isn't that the woman of it!
You will have any number of expenses, of course,
and"
I raised my hand with more than drawing-room
energy.
"3


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"For Heaven's sake, don't think that. I 'll
take all the payment that is coming to me in the
form of your consent to my asking you a certain
question."
"About this affair? I cannot give it."
"No, not about this affair; something very
personal."
She suddenly grew very grave and stately;
looking me steadily in the eye. I declare, she
thought that I was about to propose to her.
"You see," I continued, reddening, "We all
have our little plots; and I cannot tell you, now,
about my own. But the possession of a certain
piece of information has become very necessary
to me. Would you mind telling me, by 'yes' or
'no,' whether you happen to be engaged to a
Bulgarian named Zemoff?"
"I, engaged to Mr. Zemoff? Of course not."
And then a great wave of indignation, or excite-
ment, overtook her. She turned upon me fiercely.
"What made you ask me that question? What
made you? I say. Was it Paroff? Tell me,
was it Paroff?"
114


A SUMMONS FROM MY CHIEF
I saw in what directions her suspicions lay.
Wording my question as I had, she thought
ZemofFs connection with the conspiracy had been
detected. It occurred to me that, no matter what
might be the result of my coming meeting on the
Field of Honor, the chance was offered to settle
with my opponent then and there. He deserved
it. I answered her accordingly.
"No. Paroff had nothing to do with it. For
the matter of that the man most responsible for
my inquisitiveness is Mr. Zemoff himself. Ex-
actly in what way, I am not at liberty to tell you.
Good-bye. I 'll give you my report at the earliest
possible date."
"Good-bye," she said simply.
And with the memory of a warm clasp from
her soft hand to speed me on my journey, I hurried
from the room and house.
"5


CHAPTER VIII
THE WRONG CARRIAGE
T HURRIED back to the hotel, and found that
history had been making even during my
absence. Fenn-Brook was in my room, impa-
tiently walking the floor.
"Ah," he exclaimed, as I entered the door. "So
you have come, have you. Do you know, Mark-
ham, I was half afraid that you had funked.
Ridiculous, was n't it? Especially when I can
see all that fire in your eye. However, I have
been risking my career for you; and it would be
rather uncomfortable, you know, to be trimmed
by the Foreign Office and have your Johnnie go
back on you, too. It was only over-anxiety on
my part. But everything is arranged. You are
to meet this afternoon at four. I fixed that with
Paroff", at breakfast, and came over here to tell
you so. While I was waiting, Zemoff's people
117


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
came in. I ventured to tell them that you had
been called out on an urgent matter — it was really
quite bad form for you to leave the hotel, you
know — and that I was authorized to say that no
apology would be forthcoming, and to refer them
to Paroff. That was quite correct, was it not?"
"Certainly," I answered. "I have been mak-
ing a few discoveries about that fellow, Zemoff,
and have it in for him. He 's a cad."
"Of course he is. But in a matter of this kind,
nevertheless, he is entitled to due consideration.
They are all sticklers for the formalities down
here, you know. Their sphere is too small to
permit of any freedom, and they are really more
punctilious even than Frenchies. That is why
I intruded my own person into the affair. Zemoff
you see, even though he is a fool, is the fond scion
of the most influential family in Bulgaria. Per-
haps," he added, after a moment's thought, "per-
haps that is what makes him a fool. I have
observed the same thing in certain prominent
families in England. It is the poor lad's mis-
fortune."
118


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
I laughed, but only for the moment. The close
proximity of the duel made it loom most
formidably before me.
"You have not told me what the weapons are
to be."
"Pistols. Paroff and I thought that was the
best. You Americans have n't much use for the
blades, as I understand it. I was to let him know
in case you disapproved. You don't, do you?"
he asked anxiously. "It is rather late now, you
know."
"Not a bit. I can mask my inexperience with
pistols better than my ignorance of sword play.
Where are we to fight?"
"There is a good spot half an hour or so south
of the city, in a piece of woods. Paroff will call
for you. You had better be ready by three o'clock;
though I would n't start much before the half
hour. Waiting on the field, I am told, makes one
nervous. In the meantime, let us manage to keep
the thing out of your mind. Play billiards?"
"More or less."
"Come over to the Consulate with me. I have,
119


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
I remembered a certain moral obligation to my
people in America. I bade him a warm farewell
and hurried back to the hotel to write explanatory
letters home. After all, it was necessary to recog-
nize the possible alternative that confronted me.
I was hurriedly dashing off the last of my
epistles when one of the waiters came to my room
with a letter.
"There is a carriage below for Mr. Markham,"
he said, "and the coachman gave me this for
him."
It turned out to be a note from Paroff. He had
been called off to an important engagement, and
wished me to pick him up on my way.
"You will find me" — ran the note — "at the
military barracks just outside the city. The road
is rather roundabout for you, but I fear that I
should not be able to get into town in time to take
you to your meeting place. The latter, however,
is not so very far from the barracks. To save you
trouble, knowing your ignorance of localities in
Sofia, I have ventured to provide a carriage for you,
the driver of which has already received the proper
121


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
instructions. You will do well to start a little
before three, as the drive is a long one."
I hastily finished and addressed my mail,
and also a note to Miss Ewing explaining
as well as I could the situation in which I
was placed. This I slipped into an envelope
addressed to Fenn-Brook, with the request that
it be forwarded in case anything untoward oc-
curred. I left the envelope on the dressing table,
where it would surely be found, and, with a heart
as care-free as the circumstances would permit,
descended from my room and stepped into the
waiting carriage. It was then exactly three
o'clock.
The driver's instructions had evidently been
precise. No sooner was I seated and the door
closed than he started off at a rapid rate, in an
easterly direction. We soon crossed one of the
two little streams which gird Sofia, and then
skirted the great City Park for some distance. In
a general sense I knew that somewhere out this
way lay the cavalry barracks, and supposed that
it was there we were to pick up Paroff. No
122


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
suspicion that anything was wrong even entered
my head. It was not until we had left the city
well behind us and were proceding through an un-
broken, habitationless plain that I began to doubt.
I opened the door and called to the driver, but was
met only by a reassuring wave of his hand and
increased speed. I took out my watch. We had
already been traveling for forty minutes, and
neither barracks nor the woods in which the duel
was to take place were in sight.
Suddenly the carriage stopped, the doors flew
open, and from both sides at once I found myself
covered by the muzzles of shining revolvers. I
was too taken by surprise to cry out. Even when
the two men behind them, still holding the weapons
at my head, stepped into the carriage and closed
the doors, I did not protest. They sat down
before me on the front seat, and the driver at once
got under way again. The motion, I think,
brought me to my senses.
"What in thun—" I began.
One of the men held up a warning hand.
"Pardon, Monsieur Markham," he said politely
123


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
in French, "I trust there will be no violence.
Believe me, if you are quiet no harm will come to
you. It is merely necessary that you be kept under
guard for a few days. I regret that we can answer
no questions. Will you kindly give us your word
to make no outcry?"
"I will promise nothing of the kind," I blurted
out. They did not answer. But one of them
advanced his pistol to within an inch of my head,
thereby precluding all possibility of resistance;
and the other calmly removed my handkerchief
and passed it over my mouth, knotting it firmly
at the back of the neck. Then, with a rope taken
from his pocket, he secured my hands behind me.
And, throughout it all, the most that I could do
was to tighten my muscles and make his task as
arduous as possible. With that weapon at
my head, real resistance was out of the question.
After I had once been bound and gagged, they
paid no further attention to me, but quietly re-
sumed their seats. They even put away their
revolvers and fell to chatting together as uncon-
cernedly as if I were a dressed-up dummy; leaving
124


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
me to sit there bolt upright and miserable, and to
work out the situation as best I might.
On one point I soon became reassured. My
captors, as their spokesman had intimated, enter-
tained no thought of doing me harm. Indeed,
they did not at all appear to be men of the brigand
type, such as one might expect to meet in out-of-
the-way places of the Balkans. Both evidently
belonged to at least the upper bourgeois class, if
not in still higher circles. To place them exactly,
or even to see in what class they were pretending
to belong, was impossible; for the free Bul-
garian is still too new and democratic a creation to
permit of class distinction. Coming as the race
has done from a condition of peasantry and semi-
slavery to the Turks, only a quarter of a century
ago, the struggle for position has thus far gone
only to him who in that short time could acquire
the greatest wealth and the best education. The
culture of generations which stamps itself as well
upon the clothes as upon bearing and lineaments
is not yet theirs. My only guide in this respect,
therefore, lay in the almost perfect command of
"5


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
French which the one who had spoken possessed;
a French which had obviously been acquired in
France itself and which clearly indicated travel
and a good education.
My reasoning may seem to smack of the snob-
bish. But if these premises were correct, I had a
decided clue to the cause of my abduction. There
was obviously more behind it than could be
accounted for by my own insignificance; and the
move could only be a plan either in furtherance
of the conspiracy or to defeat it. Secondly, since
no one except Miss Ewing knew that the vinaigrette
was in my possession, they could not be working
to prevent the delivery of the dahlia stem. The
only other point at which I could influence the
course of the plot lay in the duel with Zemoff.
Therefore, I argued, it was to prevent that duel
that I had been kidnapped. Furthermore,
since, by the sudden death of one of the arch-
conspirators, the cause itself would clearly be hurt,
my capture had been undertaken simply to pre-
vent the possibility of Zemoff's demise. My
captors belonged to the party of the conspiracy.
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THE WRONG CARRIAGE
I fancy that, for a man bound and gagged, this
was a rather clear-headed piece of reasoning. At
any rate, it set my mind at rest; and, strangely
enough, it made Miss Ewing's success seem all the
more vitally important.
Sooner or later I would be released, and
when I returned to Sofia it would be to face
the charge of having run away from the meeting
with Zemoff. My reputation would suffer;
and, unless the plot turned out successful, I
would be unable to defend my absence without
incriminating my countrywoman. If, on the other
hand, the scheme, whatever it might be, should
be carried out, I would probably be able in time to
tell the story in full detail; and, what is more, to
have it corroborated by my captors themselves.
This, at least, seemed the only hope for my re-
establishment in the eyes of men, and I made up
my mind to offer no present obstacle to the con-
spirators' plans. Zemoff and his companions had
probably long since left the field, and my defection
was even now being made the subject of gossip
at the club. Poor Fenn-Brook!
127


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
I made such motions as I could, in view of my
bound hands, toward the handkerchief over my
mouth. My companions at once understood.
"Monsieur Markham will promise to be quiet?"
asked one of them. I nodded; and gag and rope
were at once removed. They still paid no atten-
tion to my presence, however, and, as I was left
to sit in silence, I turned to the study of the route
which the carriage was taking. I had lost all real
idea of direction, and the sky was overcast, so that
I could not see the sun. But I judged that we
were still working east or southeast. The plain
continued, but we were almost out of it, and ahead
there rose abruptly from its surface a parched,
dull brown range of hills. By six o'clock we were
already in the foothills of one of the spurs of the
Balkan mountains and, from that time on, our
course became slower and the road more rough.
I considered that sooner or later we must stop
to get something to eat, and hoped that an oppor-
tunity to secure a little positive information as to
our whereabouts would then present itself. But in
this I was disappointed. Just before darkness
128


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
came on, one of my captors raised the cushion of
the front seat, and I could see in the box beneath
it a goodly stock of provisions. We were evidently
in for a long trip. He selected from the box the
materials for a most bountiful supper, which we
ate in silence and which, to tell the truth, I thor-
oughly enjoyed. Then we went back to the
endurance of the steady jolt, jolt, of the carriage,
making its way over a path that grew ever steeper
and more stony. For an hour or more we passed
through a long defile, black with overhanging cliffs;
then emerged into a wide, open valley. Soon,
shadowy houses appeared; low black patches by the
roadside, hardly more than their tiled roofs rising
above the line of stone fences behind which they
were hidden. Here and there a light twinkled;
sometimes close by us, again far off, apparently
out in the fields.
"We change horses here," my companions
announced. "Will Monsieur Markham promise
still to be quiet, or must we cover him with a rug
in the bottom of the carriage?"
I assured them that I would be good. They
129


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
certainly placed a high value on the strength of a
man's word, for when we pulled up at a little inn,
shortly afterward, both of them descended and
went inside, leaving me alone in the carriage. In
due course the horses were changed, and we were
again ready to start. But before leaving, my
friends appeared with ink, pen, paper, and a
lantern.
"We desire no pursuit," said one of them. "So
will Monsieur kindly write a note to the porter at
his hotel saying that he will be away for a few
days on an excursion? A mail goes back to Sofia
early in the morning. Monsieur may add any
little message that occurs to him— provided, of
course, that it is nothing dangerous."
To do as they wished meant burning my bridges
behind me. But, whether from cowardice or
prudence, I submitted and incidentally put in a
postscript, requesting the porter to hold back, until
my return, the letter addressed to Fenn-Brook.
My captors thanked me, gave the note to an atten-
dant boy, and we drove off. They certainly had
the whip hand. But while alone in the carriage,
130


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
I had nevertheless made a little discovery which
might in time turn to my advantage. I had
carelessly thrust my hand down behind the cush-
ion; had felt there a foreign object; and had
pulled out what even an examination made in the
darkness told me was a wallet, bulky with papers.
I had slipped it into my breast pocket. Unless
chance played me a mean trick, I would soon
know at least the identity of one of my captors, and
probably much more.
The road continued good, but gradually grew
steeper; and looking out I could see far above me
the sky line of the hills. We were well into the
Balkans by this time, and evidently passing
through another defile even deeper than that by
which we had approached the last straggling ham-
let. The pace became slower, too. The horses
ceased even their intermittent trotting and settled
down to a steady, unending climb, up the mountains.
Preparations were silently made for a long night's
ride. The air became colder as we ascended;
and my companions, first one and then the other,
wrapped themselves in their rugs and huddled
131


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
very commodious, alas! but he must remember
that he is in a rough country. We trust he will
have a good night."
The two conspirators took their departure, and,
without even extinguishing the lantern, I threw
myself on the bed and drew the blankets to my
head. For the first time since my arrival in the
East, I was thoroughly disgusted and sick at heart.
Sleep, once dispelled, was long in returning. The
dawn had faintly broken before it came. I
remember a half conscious effort to get up and go
to the window to see where we were, and the shiver
with which I settled back again into my blankets.
What cared I where we were, anyway? Then at
last I lost my troubles and myself in a deep slumber.
I awoke to broad daylight and, looking at my
watch, found that it was well after ten o'clock.
Toilet facilities were conspicuous by their absence.
I smoothed out mussed and bagged clothes as
best I might, and combed my hair with my fingers.
Then I tried the door and finding that it had been
graciously left unlocked, stepped out into the
sunshine of a gorgeous September day. The
i33


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
little group of buildings, of which my own shelter
formed .a part, lay, I saw, well up on a bare hill-
side. Below them stretched a broad valley, dotted
with pretty rectangular fields which surrounded a
sleepy white and brown village of the Balkans;
the flat surface of its low, tiled roofs broken only
by two or three slender mosques and by the newer
bright-domed churches of the Bulgarian orthodox.
The rounded hillsides, too, were sprinkled with
cottages, and the paths which led up and down
them were alive with little white and black, or red
and black figures, moving toward the village;
peasants — I recalled the fact that the day was
Sunday — on their wav to service.
As for my own surroundings, the building in
which I had slept was, as I have said, an outhouse.
There were two or three others like it, well back
from the road, and all belonging to the peasant
cottage which stood just inside the ramshackle,
ivy-covered, stone fence. This was just such a
habitation as I had already seen many times
from the window of train and carriage; a low,
one-storied structure, with walls of brown mud
i34


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
plastered on wickerwork, and a brown-tiled roof.
On the side facing the valley, the roof projected
far out beyond the walls and, supported by pillars,
formed the covering of an open porch-like space
almost as large as the house itself. The porch
was apparently the main room, so to speak, of
the cottage; for at one end was a fireplace,
an earthen oven, and the various belongings of a
kitchen, and at the other stood a rude table and
several benches. For the time being, however, the
place was vacant; nor was anyone in sight in the
immediate vicinity. The suggestion flashed across
my mind; why not make a dash for it to the vil-
lage? But the thought was interrupted by the
appearance of one of my captors at the door of the
cottage.
"Ah, Monsieur Markham! I trust you have
slept well. You will find water in the pail there."
He waved his hand toward the kitchen department,
as he came out. "The arrangements are very
crude; but afterward we will have breakfast."
I acted upon his suggestion and after a liberal
sousing over an earthen bowl, felt much refreshed.
»35


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
Then followed a most enjoyable meal, of the
picnic order, from supplies drawn from the car-
riage seat. In the course of it I was assured that
I would be left to myself all day, provided that
I promise not to leave the premises. Feeling
better, I assented.
"We are to be here all day, then ?" I asked.
"All day. It is more advisable that we do our
travelling by night," he answered. "Monsieur
will do well to get still more sleep this afternoon."
Immediately after breakfast I was left alone,
my two companions strolling away for a walk,
and our peasant hosts not having returned from
church. As matters turned out, I put the morn-
ing's freedom to good advantage.
In the first place, wandering about, I found the
carriage. That was not in itself a remarkable
performance, for the vehicle had been drawn up
directly behind the cottage where it would be
hidden to passers-by in the road. But I observed
that it was a public conveyance and noted its
number, 210. I put my hand in my pocket for a
piece of paper on which to note this down and felt
136


THE WRONG CARRIAGE
there the wallet which I had found under the
cushion, and which until now had slipped my
mind. I crawled into the carriage and examined
it. In one sense, I met with disappointment. The
papers which it contained obviously belonged to
neither of my captors and gave me no clue to the
identity of either. The wallet had evidently been
lost by a previous occupant of the carriage. But
before my examination was half over, nevertheless,
I found a most surprising document. It—but
no matter; its nature will transpire in time. I
had evidence of danger to Miss Ewing's plans from
another, totally unsuspected source.
Secondly, while I was still engaged with the
examination of the pocketbook, I heard outside
the noise of carriage wheels; first in the road, then
in the yard of the cottage itself. This being within
the limits of my parole, I made an investigation
of the new-comer, and found, standing under the
porch, the blond German girl of. the Galata
Bridge, who had given the dahlia to the beggar
and who had afterwards acted as my jailer of a
day.
i37





CHAPTER IX
A TROUBLESOME ALLY
OHE was about to enter the cottage as she
heard my step and looked up.
"Du lieber Gott! der Amerikaner!"
She gazed at me with open mouth; and for the
matter of that, I gazed back, equally astonished.
Nevertheless, it seemed that the advantage might
this time be on my side. With no one to interrupt,
and with the girl in obvious ignorance of what had
occurred, I certainly ought to be able to learn
something.
"Der Amerikaner, truly enough; and once
more a prisoner," I finally answered with a laugh.
"You will begin to think, Fraiilein, that that is
my habitual state."
"But a prisoner? And why again?"
"For no reason, apparently, except that your
.people seem to dislike my presence in Sofia as
139


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
much as they objected to it in Constantinople. By
the way, were the feelings of that Turkish official
very much hurt by my escape?"
"But he said that you had been sent to Vienna!"
she protested. "And now I find you here, a
prisoner, you say, on the road to—"
"Oh, he said that, did he? He must have been
mistaken. You see, I did n't even leave Con-
stantinople by the train which he intended to have
me take. I came to Sofia by the Orient Express,
with an American friend of mine."
She paled slightly.
"Not — not with the Miss Ewing?"
"Yes, indeed, since you yourself mention her."
The girl was in helpless perplexity. She was
treading on dangerous ground and knew it. But
at the same time her curiosity was overpowering;
and I determined to foster it by appearing'to be far
more conversant with the matter than was really
the case. A slip, I knew, would close her mouth
absolutely. She had already given me proof, in
Constantinople, that she was not a chatterbox, and
the time at my disposal was too short for mistakes
140


A TROUBLESOME ALLY
to be made and then rectified. I waited some mo-
ments before again speaking, hoping that she would
ask a leading question. But none was forthcoming;
and the thread was broken by the pause. I dared
not take it up again. The best that I could do
was to establish a chatty atmosphere.
"Have you had breakfast yet?" I asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. "Black bread and
coffee, up in the mountains."
So she was on her way back to Sofia; and prob-
ably coming from the place to which my captors
were bound with my own person. The journey
was evidently a hard one, for she looked tired out.
Her blond hair was all astray, her dress rumpled
by long travel, and there were circles under her
eyes which indicated a night of sleeplessness. I
acted on the suggestion.
"It is a rough ride, I understand. Let me get
you something from our stores — some fruit and a
little wine, for instance. We have loads of stuff
in the carriage."
I made the best selection possible for a dejeuner,
and set the articles on the table under the porch.
141


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
In the meantime she had gone indoors and, by
such means as only a woman could find within a
Balkan peasant's house, had set herself to rights.
Now for a good tete-&-tkte, thought I, when she
appeared; and, with all courtesy possible, I led
her to the table. I was inclined to inaugurate the
campaign by sending out a few frivolous remarks
as skirmishers. But after answering my raised
glass and simultaneous request that I might know
her name with a laughing "Marie Traube, danke,"
she at once plunged into business.
"Tell me; was it because of her, of the Miss
Ewing, that you are here? Was it she who had
you removed?"
"Not at all." I could not quite bring myself
to a discussion of Martha Ewing with Marie
Traube. "Not at all. As a matter of fact, I am
not really a dangerous proposition to any of your
party. Very much the contrary. I am even
endeavouring to help you in a difficult matter.
Look at this."
I pulled from my pocket the vinaigrette which,
on the previous morning, I had taken from its
142


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
first because I could not do otherwise and later
because, from the general lay of the land, I sus-
pected that they might be taking me to the cloister
itself. Am I right?"
She hesitated for a moment as I closed the
vinaigrette again and slipped it back into my
pocket.
"If my destination really is the cloister," I
continued, "of course this thing will be much
simplified. If not, then you must help me to
escape and put me on the right road."
"You are bound for the cloister," she finally
admitted. "You must be, otherwise you would
not be stopping here. No one ever travels this
way. It is a by-road by which we avoid Tresnitz,
the village yonder."
"Then I am undoubtedly right in surmising
that my abductors belong to your party?"
"Undoubtedly. But why have they taken
you?"
"Until this moment I have not been sure.
But, since they are your own people, it can only
be because they feared that I might kill Zemoff."
144


A TROUBLESOME ALLY
"Kill Zemoff! That you — might — kill Ze-
moff!" With the long night's ride, her face had
well nigh lost its rouge, and I could see that my
words had made her deathly pale. Zemoff, it
appeared, was even a more important personage
that I had imagined.
"You — kill—Zemoff!" she muttered, again
and again.
"Yes," I answered quietly. "I was on my way
to a duel with him when they kidnapped me."
"But Zemoff? Do you not know?"
"I know nothing except that we met at the club
in Sofia and quarreled."
"At the club? But where were the others that
they should permit it?"
"I don't know whom you mean by the 'others,'
or why they should n't permit it. The clash
between us came very suddenly. • He was drunk,
and said that he was going to marry a country-
woman of mine."
The words had an extraordinary and very un-
expected effect. Her teeth shut tight together,
her hands clenched, upraised in the air. Her
i45 •


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
face became ghastly; all the more ghastly because
its pallor was broken by the red remnants of her
make-up. She stood, threatening, before me, for
a moment; then sank upon the bench.
She looked straight into my eyes, controlling
herself with difficulty.
"Not the Miss Ewing?"
I hesitated. Then, fairly caught, "Yes."
"You lie. He did not say that."
"Pardon me. He said it very distinctly. Other-
wise we would have had no occasion for a quarrel.
He certainly intends to marry Miss Ewing if he can.
I happen to know, however, that he cannot. But
I do not care to discuss the subject further."
I doubt, and even then doubted, whether she
heard any of my last words. She saw truth in my
eyes, and knew that my story was not a fabrication;
and, knowing that, the rest was blank and mean-
ingless. I began to realize the situation and that
here was a fresh complication in the affair. It
seemed best to await developments. I took a
cigarette from my case and reached out the latter
to her. With a quick wave of her hand she
146


A TROUBLESOME ALLY
knocked it from my grasp, and case and cigarettes
were dashed against the wall of the cottage. The
movement broke the chains of her suspense. In
an instant the artificial polish of her demi-mon-
daine world dropped from her. She became once
more of the type from which her blue eyes and
rouged cheeks had raised her, or lowered her; a
coarse, ignorant peasant girl, ugly and vitupera-
tive in her anger; pouring forth her unreasoning
abuse as, on the market place or in the dirty inn
of some Austrian village, her mother and her
grandmother before that had poured forth theirs.
Leaning before me, her elbows on the wooden
table, her clenched fists waving in the air, her face
working with passion uncontrollable, she gave
vent to her tirade.
"The pig! The pig dog; and again the pig'
dog! He will marry the Ewing? He says that,
yes? And me? What is to become of me? Of
me, who have been his slave, what? He will
marry the Ewing; and he will leave me in the dirt
which I have licked up for him. Ach! He will
let me go. Yes, he believes that. Me, when he


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
promised that after this is by, he would raise me
up, and make me a grand lady like the women of
France he talks about. Du Gott! He thinks to
leave me, to throw me off, to send me back to work
in the fields with the sisters that I left for him,
that I left to come to this dirty country. Have I
not been true to him? Have I not, turned off
others who could give me double his money?
Have I not turned off the Veretkin, the Russian
Secretary at Constantinople? Yes, I did that, not
even two months ago. And because he promised
me. And now he will marry the Ewing, the little
Ewing. Pfui! I become sick. But wait. I
tell you that you shall wait and see. Does he
think, the crazy, that I shall help him, that I shall
let him be what he is to be, and then be cast aside.
Do I not know where the Bulgarian Agent is hid?
Do I not know Paroff, Paroff the cunning? Yes,
and have I not letters — letters, I say — when he
swore that there would be no writing? Wait
only, and you shall see. Yes, and the little Ewing,
who thinks to take him from me; she too shall
see. She is noble, yes? And she plots a murder!
148


A TROUBLESOME ALLY
But, I, I, the Marie Traube, whom she would rob,
yes, it is I who will show her what is the punish-
ment for conspiracy in this country. It is I
who"
I jumped to my feet.
"Stop," I thundered.
But her wrath had passed beyond control. I
was a thing inanimate, a wooden post, something
designed merely to receive the words of her anger.
She, too, rose to her feet; and, bending forward,
followed me up as I gradually edged away from
her trembling fist.
"Yes, it is I who will show her. Paroff, the
spy, would wed her, and she hates him. But she
shall take him; that she shall. I myself will so
make it. She shall take him to save herself from
prison. I shall give her the choice. And she;
she will choose the Paroff!"
I grabbed her arm, and shook her forcibly.
"Stop, I tell you. Not another word, do you
hear. Miss Ewing will have nothing to do with
Zemoff. She has told me so herself. And unless
you promise, promise absolutely, not to harm her,
i49


A TROUBLESOME ALLY
though with difficulty, I made her agree to keep
silent. Before I had succeeded, I was obliged to
promise her that, if necessary, I myself would
step in to prevent the marriage. And without
warrant I boldly assured her that I could do it.
151


CHAPTER X
THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
A FULL half hour passed before my guardians
returned, and a bad half hour it was for me.
Marie remained sulking at the table, where she
had thrown herself after her paroxysm of rage.
She refused to be placated. Not that I tried
very hard; for I too was lost in thought, thought
bitter and troublous. Could I trust the girl?
Her sullen blue eyes betokened vengeance. And
yet I must needs trust her; must let her go back
free into the city where I could not watch her; and
that, too, where no one else could be warned of the
danger that threatened from so unexpected a
source. I sorely doubted the wisdom of having
given her that alternative.
Then there had come another cloud.
"She is noble, yes? And she plots a murder!"
I did not believe it; could not believe it. But
i53


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
how I shuddered at the words. I hardly dared
analyse them. Marie had spoken at white
heat, without measuring her denunciations. But
those words, nevertheless, were a bold statement,
uttered with the conviction of one who knew.
They were not bombastic, not wrathful exaggera-
tion. So far as Marie Traube knew, they con-
tained a definite truth. The conspiracy, what-
ever its object, did involve the doing away with
somebody or other. I could not hide from my-
self that fact. Some one was to be murdered.
And I was doing my best to further the ends of the
murderers. I was doing it at Martha Ewing's
behest. Did she know? Marie believed she
did; took her knowledge of the contemplated
crime as a matter of course. But Marie was
wrong. She was wrong! I cried it aloud. She
was wrong! Martha Ewing did not know. She
was an enthusiast, an idealist, and her enthusiasm
had brought her into touch with demons. They
were working her, using her to their own foul ends,
making her believe that those ends were pure and
noble. She did not know. I could tell a pure
i54


THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
face when I saw it. And Martha Ewing's fresh,
brown-eyed face was pure.
Her hope lay in me. Of all the men with
whom she was in touch, I alone would and could
save her from the pit into which she had fallen.
In that I gloried. It was a man's task that;
a task rendered the sweeter as I realized more
and more clearly that I loved her. And I, I
was a prisoner; on my way to a lonesome cloister
on a crag in the depths of the Balkan moun-
tains, to regain my freedom I knew not when.
Perhaps I was to be kept there until the plot
had come to a head; until — until the murder
had been done.
By-and-by the peasant owners of the cottage
came toiling up the mountain from church; a
whole drove of them. I remembered then that
in Bulgaria the patriarchal system obtains. In
the van of the procession, helped by one of the
men, was a trembling old woman of I know not
how many years; since her husband's death, the
head of the household. Then came her sons and
their wives, and then their sons and their wives,
i55


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
and finally the children of the fourth generation.
They were all clad in their gala clothes, the ela-
borate products of their own hands; the women
in long white, heavily embroidered skirts with
over-garments of white-edged black, and quaint
head-dresses drawn tight across their foreheads;
the men, too, in flower-decked black and white, in
queer tight linen trousers reaching to the boot tops,
in gaudy Eton-patterned coats, and wearing
jauntily cocked over their ears strange visorless
caps, the cylindrical shape of which told of their
descent from the Turkish fez.
The family filed by Marie and myself, its mem-
bers silently bowing as they passed, and entered
the cottage; whence, their restraint removed, the
youngsters gathered about the open door to gaze
at us in untempered awe. One of the women
reappeared with a tremendous bowl of soup, with
great chunks of mutton in it, which she placed on
the earthen stove. In a few moments a bright
wood fire was snapping cheerily underneath.
When the soup was hot she reappeared and car-
ried it in to the hungry family. I followed and
156


THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
found within one of the quaintest scenes in my
remembrance; quaint because it approached so
nearly the primeval. In one corner of the room
stood a heavy square tiled stove, the progenitor
of such as one finds in Germany. The roof, all
about the room, was festooned with sheepskin
coats and other garments swinging from the
rafters. Half the floor was bare earth; the rest,
a wooden dais raised six or eight inches from
the ground. On the dais the older members of
the family were grouped, squatting in a circle, the
patriarchal dame presiding with her back against
the wall, the children scrambling over the backs of
their parents, waving coarse pewter spoons. And
in the middle was the steaming bowl of broth, the
common meal of all.
They paid no attention to my presence, ap-
parently, and I seated myself on the edge of the
dais, near the door, watching them in wonderment.
That cattle such as these, ignorant, stupid, indif-
ferent, should be the cause for which Martha
Ewing was unwittingly preparing to sacrifice, if
not her life, then all her future peace! And yet
i57


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
I knew that she was preparing to do so; though in
what way I did not know.
Marie was still sitting at the table outside. I
could see her through the crack of the partly open
door, gloomy and sullen. Suddenly her face
cleared, and in an instant she was her normal,
careless self again. A moment later, and the
reason for the change was made obvious. My
two abductors were coming up the road. I heard
their exclamations of surprise at seeing the girl.
"Yes, Herr Bantscha, it is I," she replied to
one of them, the tall gray-bearded man who had
been the usual spokesman in their dealings with
me. "I return to Constantinople with a message.
The token has not yet been delivered and the
Igumen is anxious; for September is nearly gone."
Through the door I saw him hold up a warning
hand.
"The American? Where is he?"
She shrugged her shoulder and pointed to the
cottage. But after that their voices were care-
fully lowered and I could overhear nothing more
of what was said. What little I had already
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THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
caught I did not like. "The token has not yet
been delivered." Unless she had afterward told
them why not, those words indicated deceit, con-
cealment of her own knowledge. And Bantscha?
Where had I heard that name before?
I was told, that afternoon, that we were to start
at eight o'clock, and along toward four I retired
to my little outhouse in the hope of catching a
preliminary nap. Marie had in the meantime
completely recovered her customary good spirits,
and my suspicions of her plans were practically
dissipated. Just before I went in, the other men
having already disappeared, she called to me.
"You will promise not to tell them?" she
asked.
I answered the question by another.
"And you, to offer no harm to Miss Ewing?"
"I promise," she responded. "Here; we pledge
ourselves."
And she filled two glasses with wine from one
of the bottles still standing from our luncheon.
I looked her steadily in the eye.
"One treacherous move on your part," I said
i59


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
slowly, "and they shall know of it. You are to
be held responsible for failure, no matter from
what cause. Do you understand?"
She met my gaze squarely, and nodded.
"I do," she whispered. "I was angry. It is
nothing."
"Good!" I returned, and went to my room.
I managed to get more sleep that I had expected,
and in fact was wakened only by a hearty shaking
at the hands of the man called Bantscha. An
hour later and we were once more toiling up the
mountains in the counterpart of the ride of the
previous night. It was a long steady walk for the
horses, over a road which grew ever more arduous.
The rack and swing of the carriage rendered rest
impossible. We hardly spoke. The black hours
came and went. The haggard gray dawn came;
then, with relief, we saw the sun. Finally we
emerged upon a broader, better road. Bantscha
straightened out his cramped limbs.
"Courage, Monsieur Markham, another fifteen
minutes and we shall have reached our destination.
I regret that we could not have come all the way
160


THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
by this road. But the rougher and more round-
about seemed the safer."
The deep granite-lined gorge slowly widened.
Rounding a projecting mass of rock, we issued
into a sort of basin, a quarter mile or so in width
and twice that in length. From its centre rose a
curious, isolated, steep and rocky-sided mound
to a height of a hundred feet or more. Its sides
merged, without falling to a more gentle slope,
into the walls of a square, dark gray, fortress-
like building which crowned the top, taking up
every inch of available space; a cold, bleak,
formidable building, built of stone and without
adornment save the queer gabled windows set in
the eaveless roof. The roof itself sloped back-
ward from each face and, from its contour, I
judged the monastery to be built about an inner
courtyard. If so, the centre of life was there to be
found. Outside, all was absolutely silent, and
the building might well have been deemed unin-
habitated. The door in the massive portals was
shut, and no soul could be seen this side the walls.
Indeed, except for the narrow pathway from the
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
valley below, the mound seemed scarcely to offer
footing; and from it, as I have said, the walls rose
sheer, broken only by a double row of windows,
narrow and shutterless, like deep-cut gashes in the
building's face.
The carriage paused at the base of the hill, and,
stiff and sore, we climbed out and began the ascent
of the zigzag path and rough steps hewn from the
rock itself. As we reached the massive oak door,
the scarred surface of which told the story of many
a Moslem onslaught, it swung back with a creak,
and we were received by a pale and emaciated
priest of the Orthodox Church. He was a pitiful
object; his long vestments, once black, now stained
and brown with age; his long white hair falling
unkempt from beneath his monastic cap. He
silently led us through an arched way to the court-
yard, and thence into the monastery itself. We
were ushered into a barren white-washed room
with floor and walls of stone and no furniture
except a sort of divan which ran round three sides
of the room, and a tall brass candlestick standing
in one corner.
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THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
"Monsieur Markham will find scant quarters,
I fear. But it is the best that we can do. The
fathers will try their best to make him comfortable
for a few days."
It was, as usual, Bantscha who spoke. In
return I threw the bombshell which — with some
enjoyment, I confess — I had been preparing.
"So this is the Sveti Stefano. I am really much
obliged to you for bringing me here. Otherwise
I should not have arrived for another twenty-four
hours. And I have a very important mission to
perform here."
"A mission!"
The two conspirators gasped their amazement.
"Yes. Would you mind, Monsieur Bantscha,
directing our guide to summon the Igumen."
"Bantscha! The Igumen! Are you a man,
Monsieur Markham, or the devil himself?"
I laughed at the man's discomfiture.
"Oh, not the devil," I returned. "In fact, I am
playing more or less the role of good angel to you
and your party. But I should really like to see the
Igumen at once. And alone, please," I added.
163


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"But I do not understand. Marie Traube
must—"
I waved my hand in disavowal.
"Oh, no; not Marie. Constantinople. And
incidentally, it is not necessary that you should
understand. You have brought me here. Now
let me see the Igumen."
"You — you have a message — from Con-
stantinople?"
"Certainly. One which calls for immediate
delivery."
Their amazement was really amusing. Grad-
ually, however, they began to believe; and, after
a short conference, carried on in an undertone,
Bantscha turned to the monk, who, all this time,
had been passively waiting at the door. He gave
a few directions, and the monk, gravely bowing
his assent, disappeared. Bantscha and his
fellow-conspirator, still unable to grasp the
unexpected turn which affairs had taken, drew
one side, but kept their eyes fixed on me in
doubt and wonderment. I was thoroughly the
master.
164


THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
The monk soon returned, bringing the Abbot
with him. I gazed at him with curiosity. He was a
little man, and bent. For age and sallowness and
ascetic bearing, he was the counterpart, more than
the counterpart, of the other. But his eyes were
different. Even his long life of monastic isolation
and deprivation had been unable to quench their
fire. They were sunken, but showed neither
pathos nor tenderness. They were the eyes of a
ruler; black, sharp, inquiring, quick moving; out
of all touch with the rest of him, with his face, his
garb, his life, his surroundings.
He swept the occupants of the room with a
questioning glance.
"There is a message for me?" he asked, in a
voice low from age, but still round and firm.
"It is I who have it," I responded, stepping
forward. "My instructions were to deliver it in
private."
The Igumen quickly waved the others from the
room.
"And now, Monsieur?"
Without speaking, I pulled forth the vinaigrette
165


THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
possession. And since then it has been well
guarded!"
"Yes ?" The soft monosyllable cut like a knife.
The old fellow took me by the arm and led me
to the divan.
"Come, Monsieur; sit down and tell me the
story."
The story was soon told, from the moment
Martha Ewing thrust the vinaigrette into my
hand, up to the moment that I thrust it into his
own. Under promise of secrecy I even violated
my word to Marie Traube and gave him the par-
ticulars of our quarrel. One thing, about which
there was much cross-questioning, bothered me,
and upon it depended all hope of following up the
treachery which had been done. I could not,
for the life of me, remember whether, after that
first evening in Sofia, I had ever again opened
the bottle. I thought not; that I had always
deemed the presence of the vinaigrette itself suffi-
cient proof that its contents were safe. And so
there was no telling whether the dahlia stem had
been removed before or after I left Sofia. I was
167


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
inclined to suspect Marie, but simply because she
knew I had it in my possession. The Abbot
thought differently.
"Marie is but a foolish, wayward girl," he said.
"She is passionate and uncontrolled, as Monsieur
has seen, but she is not treacherous. No; it is
Paroff, the spy. He robbed your room. He
knew not the meaning of the dahlia; only of its
existence. A servant of our friend in Constan-
tinople overheard and betrayed to the Bulgarian
Agent there his master's secret. It was to tell me
that, that Marie came to the cloister. And now
September is almost gone. Monsieur does not
remember, perhaps, how many petals remained
on the dahlia stem?"
"I 'm sorry, no. I did not take it from the
bottle."
"That is unfortunate. But something must at
once be done. We must not sit here in idleness."
He opened the door and summoned his fellow
plotters, who had been waiting just outside.
"Monsieur thought he had a message for me,"
he told them, quietly, "but the message has been
168


THE CLOISTER IN THE BALKANS
lost. It must be recovered — recovered at any
cost."
Bantscha looked searchingly into my eyes.
Then a sudden gleam of intelligence flashed across
his face.
"I understand," he cried. "Monsieur Mark-
ham lies. He is a spy. Listen. He is a friend
of Paroff. He arranged to defeat our ends by
killing Zemoff. He says that he wished to come
to this cloister; but, nevertheless, he planned to
escape from us, at the Tresnitz cottage. Marie
told me so; and she remained on guard over him
yesterday afternoon while he slept. Monsieur has
not lost the message. He has destroyed it."
169





CHAPTER XI
"the red flower has been lost"
"f I ^HAT is a clever string of denunciations,
is n't it, M. Bantscha," I returned, in hot
sarcasm. "You might add to them the fact I also
did my best to prevent the abduction of the Bul-
garian Agent in Constantinople. Marie Traube
must have told you that as well as the other stuff."
But Bantscha was insistent; and for themoment
I thought that the tide was to turn too strongly
against me. There was no humor in the anti-
climactic development of the situation. I had
relied upon that dahlia stem. It had seemed an
obvious testimonial of good faith. It had em-
bodied the one hope of freedom, the one hope of my
returning to Sofia in time to save Martha Ewing
from the clutches of her friends. And now, in
the quick, questioning eye of the Abbot, I saw the
failure of all my plans. I had read too well his
171


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
character not to know that, once stamped a spy,
I would be doomed to even rigorous confinement.
I saw myself a close-kept prisoner in one of those
rooms under the roof with the severe gable win-
dows; waiting, waiting, for I knew not what,
except that, no matter what it might be, it meant
the wreck of Martha Ewing's life. To save her
and myself, I had to move quickly. And all that
I could say was:
"I came here quietly because I really wished to
deliver that message. Spies violate their parole.
I kept mine."
The words were feeble. I knew it as I uttered
them. But nevertheless something, either in their
argument or in my tone, caught the Abbot's sym-
pathy, and victory lay with me.
"Enough," said the little man, with decision.
"I accept the American's statement. Bantscha,
either that token must be recovered at once or I
must have fresh word from Constantinople. We
have no time to try first the one expedient, then
the other. Only two days of September are left,
and in two days our friend may leave Constan-
172


"THE RED FLOWER HAS BEEN LOST"
tinople. One of you — you, Bantscha — must go
there. You can strike northeast, and reach the
railroad at Kostenetz. The road is rough, but the
pass easy. Start at once. You can catch to-
night's train. Obtain an audience with our friend
on any excuse, and without delay; and when you
are alone with him, say: 'The red flower has been
lost/ He has wished not to speak for himself
until the last. But now he must."
The Abbot turned to Bantscha's companion.
"And you, Stanchoff, will return to Sofia at
once with Monsieur Markham. Either Marie
Traube or Paroff has the token. Paroff cannot
know its significance. That was not betrayed.
To him it is nevertheless definite proof that we are
laying our plans. But Marie does know what it
means. She must be watched. If she has it,
and intends treachery, she will turn it over, not
to the police, for she does not know who is with
us, but to Paroff; and to him she will explain.
She leaves the cottage this morning and has
twelve hours start of you. You cannot overtake
her, but you can make up much time. Go on
173


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
horseback and ride hard, by the short route. It
is more frequented but, for the sake of speed,
we must risk publicity."
He turned to the attendant monk.
"Prepare two horses — the best two. And
bring us bread and coffee."
And so, on a breakfast of bread and coffee and
mounted on two shaggy and ill-groomed but willing
and plucky ponies, Stanchoff and I soon found
ourselves back on the road to Sofia with fifty miles
of stone and mountain path before us and twenty
more of plain. I had not been on a horse for five
years. By noon I was sore. By three o'clock
I was in agony. But Stanchoff, setting the pace,
never let up; and, gritting my teeth with pain, I
kept at his horse's flank. We emerged from the
foothills into the plain at about four o'clock, and
half an hour of the sun was still vouchsafed us
when, two exhausted men on two exhausted ani-
mals, we pulled rein at a little inn on the outskirts
of Sofia. There we abandoned our horses and,
having cleansed ourselves of dust and grime, took
separate paths into the city. I reached the Hotel
*74


"THE RED FLOWER HAS BEEN LOST"
Macedonia just as twilight was falling. I do not
know what the record is for the journey from
the Sveti Stefano to Sofia, but on that day we
broke it.
The brunt of the work to be done fell of course
upon Stanchoff, who was to search out Marie
Traube and place her under espionage at once, and
to prevent, even by force if necessary, any com-
munication between the girl and Paroff. I, on the
other hand, was to sound Paroff as to whether the
token — in all this business the word 'dahlia' had
not been mentioned, and I gathered that the con-
spirators in general were ignorant of the signal
agreed upon by their chiefs — was already in his
possession; and also to let Miss Ewing know that
it had been stolen. Both these missions, I con-
cluded, could be equally well attended to on the
morrow. The night was for toilet making and
for sleep. During the past two days I had in-
dulged little enough in either, and I must have
looked a physical and moral wreck. At any rate
as I asked for my key, I read that judgment in
the wondering porter's eyes.
i75


"THE RED FLOWER HAS BEEN LOST"
the scheme along. So a story had to be made up
for Paroff which, while absolving me from the
charge of cowardice, would give him no informa-
tion worth the knowing. And for the matter of
that, it would have to be a story which would be
accepted as true by all Sofia. I could not hide
from myself the fact that I had apparently run
away from a fight and that every man whom I had
met at the club would at that very moment cut me
dead in the streets.
I resolved to go to Miss Ewing first, and accord-
ingly made my way to the house where she was
visiting. As I rang the bell I made a discovery.
On the door plate was engraved the name "A.
Bantscha." What a fool I had been not to remem-
ber. "I am staying with my friend, Madam
Bantscha," she had written. So Bantscha was
actually her host. A thought, uncomfortable,
flashed into my mind. If their relations were as
close as that, then Miss Ewing was probably
cognizant of the plans for my abduction and, to
further her own schemes, had been willing deliber-
ately to sacrifice my reputation.
177


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
But her first words dispelled the suspicion. I
was shown into the same room which had been the
scene of our former interview, and, after a few min-
utes of waiting, she entered, followed by the gray-
haired man whom I had seen in the carriage with
her on the Galata Bridge. She came forward
rapidly, offering her greeting with both hands.
"Oh, Mr. Markham," she exclaimed. "How
could you do it? How cap I ever thank you?
To think of your facing all this storm of criticism
and odium just for me, a stranger. I knew what
you had done as soon as I heard of your disappear-
ance. Oh, it was so noble of you! And do
you know how mean I have been? Even
though I knew, I have not dared to explain; not
even to my friends. But I did tell Father. Oh,
I forgot. You have not met him. On his part
there is no need of an introduction."
Her elderly companion, reaching out his hand,
seized mine in a warm grasp; his dreamy eyes
lighting.
"We cannot thank you enough, Mr. Markham,"
he said. "I am proud to have such a countryman."
178


"THE RED FLOWER HAS BEEN LOST"
"I tried to withdraw my hand. This was some-
what too much of a good thing.
"I don't understand," I stammered. "What
have I done? Won't you explain a little before I
receive any more thanks?"
"Explain?" cried Miss Ewing joyfully. "Yes,
I will. Don't you think a man deserves gratitude
on my part when he deliberately incurs the charge
of cowardice rather than fail me in a mission which
he had blindly promised to perform? I do. I
salute my true knight — my Saladin — and not,
as on the Galata Bridge, in fun."
And before I could prevent the move, the laugh-
ing girl, in exaggerated salutation, had knelt on
one knee at my feet. The situation was desperate.
"Please get up," I faltered. "I know now what
you imagine, and — I — I — you are mistaken.
I did not go away to deliver the vinaigrette. I was
kidnapped. And listen. They were of your
party. They took me to the Sveti Stefano. I
saw the Abbot and gave him the bottle; and — and
when he opened it, he found that the dahlia was
no longer inside. It had been stolen."
i79


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Stolen?" The word rang out simultaneously
from both my hearers. "Stolen?"
"Yes. They sent me back to tell you. I —
I am very sorry."
It was all I could say. Words do not flow
easily at such moments if a man has any heart at
all in his body. The expression on the crouching
girl's face slowly changed from one of blank, un-
comprehending amazement to terror. To look
upon it was torture. To have caused that terror—
She sprang to her feet.
"Stolen? Stolen?" she cried. "But how?
And where? Tell me all of it. Who was it?"
"I am not sure. But I think Marie Traube."
"Marie Traube!"
"Yes. We met at a peasant's cottage up in the
mountains. I needed help and confided in her.
She must have crept into my room while I was
asleep. At least she is the only person whom I can
suspect, for no one else knew that the dahlia was
in my possession."
"But she is of our party," broke in Mr. Ewing.
"Why should she have taken it?"
180


"THE RED FLOWER HAS BEEN LOST"
But nevertheless her words show that a murder
is included in the plans of your fellows. The
mistake, I think, was in taking it for granted that
you, like herself, knew all the details."
"It's an outrage, a perfect outrage!" cried Miss
Ewing. "Who ever heard of such a thing?
Listen, Mr. Markham. I shall not defend either
my father or myself. That should not be neces-
sary; should it? But you have been trying to
help us and, if we lie under such an imputation,
you have come to do so likewise. It is only fair,
then, that you should know what our plans are,
what we are striving for. To-morrow, or to-day
if we have time, I will tell you the whole story.
But this morning we have work to do. I must
go to Marie Traube and, if she has that dahlia
stem, force her to give it back to me. If she
has n't it, we must find out who else can have
taken it. In the meantime I ask you to be con-
tent with the assurance — my own assurance—"
she interpolated with an arch smile, holding out
her hand — "that there is no detail of this plan
which you yourself could not carry out with honor."
183


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
I took the proffered hand warmly in my own.
"I believe you," I said. But I did not. I
believed only that she thought so; and the cry
within my heart, to save her, became imperative.
She turned to her father.
"You will go with me, won't you, to interview
Marie Traube? I cannot bear to be alone with
that woman."
"Certainly I will, my dear."
We were making for the door when the maid
entered, bringing a note, which, with a few words
spoken in Bulgarian, she handed to my country-
woman.
Miss Ewing opened it, and at the very first line
gave a start of surprise. She read it eagerly
through; then, without comment, but with pale
cheeks, passed it to me. The note, which was
in French, contained only a few words; but they
were words unexpected.
Dear Mile. Ewing:
Zemoffand Marie Traube had, last night, a serious quarrel.
She attacked him with a knife, and in defense Zemoff struck
her. She fell against a table, and is badly hurt. Pending
her doubtful recovery, Zemoff was this morning arrested for
184





CHAPTER XII
PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
TT WAS with a lighter heart that I left the
Bantscha home. Stanchoff's short note,
though it had brought consternation to the Ewings,
seemed completely to clear away the difficulties
which had threatened to block my own efforts in
their behalf. There was no need to speculate upon
the cause of ZemofFs quarrel with Marie. It might
have begun with reproachings on her part; or
Zemoff might have learned that Marie had the
dahlia stem in her possession and insisted on its
return. At any rate the fact was obvious that
Marie had been its thief, and that it would soon
find its way back to Miss Ewing. But in another
respect this quarrel was absolutely providential in
its results. The one great desideratum, in my work
to save Miss Ewing, was time; and, so long as Ze-
moff remained incarcerated, the progress of the
187


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
conspiracy would probably be blocked. I had had
abundant proof, in the shape of isolated sentences
dropped from the mouths of his fellows, that he
was at least one of the central figures in the plot, if
not indeed the actual pivot upon which it turned.
Upon what the importance of so insignificant a
puppy was founded, I could not imagine; but,
rather than risk even the possibility of his death,
they had kidnapped me.
And now ZemofF had been at least temporarily
disposed of. If the wound which he had given
Marie Traube proved fatal, he might not be released
from prison at all, and in that event the conspiracy
would perhaps fall through simply for lack of a
centre. If it did, my difficulties were already over.
But, in any event, I had gained time; and how
great had become the need of some such delaying
incident, was conveyed in that anxious expression:
"It is already the last of September." I had
twice heard it; once from Marie Traube, and then
from the lips of the Abbot of the Sveti Stefano.
There was but one course to pursue. I felt that
every moment of the respite should be devoted to
188


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
the accumulation of evidence concerning the real
purposes of the conspirators. My first attempt
to warn Martha Ewing of her dangerous position
had miserably failed. Only positive and detailed
knowledge of the fact that murder was planned
could turn her from her enthusiastic adherence to
her party. To obtain that knowledge was not, on
the surface, an easy proposition. I could think
of but one man to whom to turn, Paroff. He
might or might not be cognizant of all the details;
but some of them he undoubtedly did know. And
with Paroff, as I have intimated, I had a trump
card to play. I had found it in that wallet between
the cushions of the carriage in which I was taken
to the cloister. It was only a slip of paper, but
it showed that Paroff was acting, not only as a spy
upon the conspirators, but as a traitor to his own
government.
Events had moved too rapidly since that morn-
ing at the cottage for me to give the contents of the
wallet more than a cursory examination. Now,
however, behind the well-locked door of my room,
I pulled it out and, scattering the papers on the
189


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
bed, went over them one by one. The wallet had
evidently belonged to Paroff himself. It con-
tained a number of his cards and also several
receipts, bills, and other truck, made out in his
name. None of them, however, was pertinent
to the case in hand; none, that is, except the
single paper I had read while in the carriage. I
gathered up the rest and thrust them back in the
wallet. The contents of the one, I committed to
heart. Then I sealed it in an envelope, wrote my
name on the outside and, going downstairs to the
office, saw it deposited in the safe of the hotel.
It was a precious document, that; a letter,
written in French, on the paper of an Embassy in
Constantinople, and addressed in full to Paroff —
thereby rendering impossible any denial that it
was his own. Its text ran thus:
Your valuable communication has been received. The
messenger who is bringing you this, also brings the stipulated
preliminary payment of ten thousand francs (10,000 fr.) in.
gold. My Government confirms our agreement. You are to
take no steps toward the exposure of the conspiracy until so
directed. You will, however, do your utmost to delay its pro-
gress, by any means which may occur to you, and report
regularly to me. The balance of forty thousand francs will,
190


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
as agreed, be paid over to you upon the successful culmination
of the plans of my Government. I desire to warn you, how-
ever, that, whatever may have become of the Bulgarian Agent
here, his return would seriously endanger those plans, as he
would at once communicate with the police at Sofia.
And at the bottom of the note was the signature,
"von Erlau"; the signature of the Austrian
Ambassador in Constantinople.
Now, then, for Paroff and information. With
such a weapon as that in my possession, his
knowledge, I thought, could easily be made my
own; and, better still, it could be made my own
without any return confidences. I learned from
the porter the location of the particular govern-
ment building in which the man would probably
be found, and went there; stopping on my way,
however, to purchase a revolver, which I loaded
on the spot, and slipped into my hip pocket.
But Paroff, being a bird of passage, was not so
easily found as I had imagined. I think I visited
about every department and sub-department in the
Bulgarian Government before I finally ran across
him in the anteroom of the Land Office. He was
waiting, with a number of other persons, for an
19!


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
interview with the official in charge, and did not
notice me as I entered. I went directly to him.
"May I have a word with you, Monsieur
Paroff?"
He glanced up, then bounded to his feet with a
muttered oath.
"Come," he said, under his breath. Taking me
by the arm, he led me into the hall.
"Now, Monsieur," he demanded, turning his
treacherous little eyes fiercely upon me as soon
as we were alone, "will you kindly explain your
cowardly behavior?"
"That and much more, my friend," I answered,
grimly. "But first let us find a more suitable
place to talk in than this hallway. Your rooms or
mine?"
"As you will. You probably do not care to
face the club."
"Not for the present. I prefer the hotel."
"Very well. I will hear your explanation there.
Afterward, Monsieur Markham, you will answer
to me as well as to Zemoff; if, that is, you are not
driven out of town."
192


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
Paroff, it seemed, was bloodthirsty. There
was no use in answering him yet. I silently con-
ducted him back to my room. Once there, behind
a locked door, I proceeded to business.
"I suppose that, on the face of this matter,
Monsieur Paroff, I do appear to owe you an
apology. Actually, however, I do not. I did
not run away from my duel with Zemoff. I was
kidnapped while on my way to the ground!"
Paroff gave vent to a contemptuous laugh.
"Ah, that was it. Kidnapped? And why,
pray, did you start for the ground alone? I was
to call for you."
"I went in a carriage which had supposedly
been sent to the hotel by you, and which was to
pick you up on the way. And now, listen. I am
not at liberty to discuss the details of my abduction.
I shall tell Fenn-Brook and the gentlemen whom
I met at the club, that night, that I was abducted,
taken to a country inn some distance from the city,
and kept there until last night. I may or may not
add details; but that is for me to decide. Whether
I do or not, you will accept the account. And
193


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
your acceptance of it will cause the others to
believe that it is true."
"I will accept nothing of the kind," cried Paroff,
jumping to his feet. "If that is all you have to
say, Monsieur Markham, pray unlock the door.
My time is valuable."
"Pardon. You will do as I say," I answered,
without moving.
"As you say!"
He gasped in amazement.
"Yes. You see," I added, pointedly, "I was
kidnapped in your carriage."
He did not understand.
"You had hired one that day, had you not?
number 210? Ah, I thought so. I found in it
something which belongs to you, I believe. Per-
mit me to restore it."
I carelessly took the wallet from my desk, in-
tending to toss it over to him. But almost before
I could make the first motion toward doing so, he
was at my side, with the wallet tightly grasped in
his hand.
"Of course," I went on with a smile, "I had to
194


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
examine its contents to find out who the owner
might be. I found a very strange letter inside."
"You"
"Easy, Monsieur, easy. I am armed. I have
read that letter. I have committed it to memory.
And I have deposited it, in my name, in a safe
place. Now, then, will you accept my story, and
tell others that you believe it? Or shall I go to
your Government. I understand it is not a
difficult matter to get an audience with Prince
Ferdinand himself."
I had to wait for my answer. Paroff stood in
the centre of the room, cowed, stricken, speechless.
He was all hunched up; his head drawn in be-
tween his shoulders, his elbows pressed tight
against his ribs, his hands convulsively opening
and clenching again over the pocket book. I had
him, clearly. A minute passed, without either
of us speaking.
"You would not — you — " he finally began.
His voice broke. I kept grimly silent. The
pitiful fool glanced despairingly about the room.
He pulled at his collar as if to prevent himself
'95


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
from choking. I thought he was about to col-
lapse. He swayed to and fro for an instant, then
lurched sideways and saved himself from falling
only by coming in contact with the bureau.
"Come. Pull yourself together, man!" I cried.
"Speak up. You must — Stop! Drop those!"
My hand went for the pistol in my hip pocket.
But it was too late. ParofFs lurch toward the
bureau had been a trick. Now he was upon me,
striving to drive into my heart a long, sharp-
pointed pair of scissors which had lain there.
The first vicious stroke swung past me as we
closed. Before the second could be delivered, I
had managed to grasp his wrist with my left hand.
But my right was for the moment caught in my
pocket, and Paroff pinned it there. He was much
the smaller man, but he was nevertheless wiry and
as quick as lightning. He saw the disadvantage
under which I was laboring and, by a sudden
movement, glued himself to my right side, binding
the arm tight against my body so that I could
neither draw the revolver nor free my hand.
For a full minute, it seemed, we remained
196


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
tensely rigid in that position. Paroff's upraised
armed hand was slowly oscillating as I strove to
hold it there and at the same time wrench or
break his wrist. His leg was locked about my
knee, and with his other hand, thrown about my
neck, he had grasped me across the eyes and
blinded me, twisting my head hard to the left.
The man's muscles were of iron. Handicapped
as I was by the binding down of my arm, I could
not shake him off; and gradually, with his fingers
sinking into my face, he forced my head around.
I lost my balance. With a crash we went down.
As we fell I wheeled, and ParofF, to save himself
fromdanding undermost, broke loose. The move-
ment gave me the required leverage upon his right
arm and, even as I tumbled, I was conscious of
hearing the crack of his elbow and the jangle of the
scissors as they struck the floor.
I fell almost free of him; but not quite. His
head lay across my neck, and my chin was tilted
back. The beast in him broke out; and his jaws
closed like a vise upon my throat.
I felt his teeth sink into the flesh; loosen; and
i97


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
and took no chances. My hand once more grasped
his windpipe, but this time more lightly. I used
just enough force to show him that I was master;
and, while I held him, I worked my revolver free.
"Now, you miserable little skye-terrier," I mut-
tered; "you can take your own time for recovery.
When you are ready, though, we will talk."
But, for the moment, Paroff was beyond answer-
ing. Indeed, we must, as a pair, have formed a
strange spectacle; he, lying there upon the floor,
catching his breath in short spasmodic gasps;
his beard dyed red, and his disjointed forearm
bent back almost to a right angle; and I seated
swaying by his side, holding the pistol, my clawed
face bloody, and blood streaming down my coat
and shirt front. The fight had been short, but it
had been fierce.
I finally recovered sufficient strength to make
my way to the water pitcher, where I managed to
stop the bleeding and to bind my lacerated throat
with a towel. Paroff also came slowly to and, by
the time I was finished, he had reached the point
of sitting up, though he could not yet get upon his
199


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
feet. I brought forward a chair and, revolver in
hand, sat down in front of him.
"That is a very good place for you, Monsieur,"
I began. "You can stay there until you are ready
to leave the room. In the meantime, you will tell
me what you know of this conspiracy."
Paroff gazed heavily about him.
"That letter! That letter, Monsieur? You
will not betray?" he pleaded.
"That depends. Listen, if you are strong
enough. I will make a compact with you. I care
nothing for the success of the conspiracy. It is
all one to me whether your Austrian employers,
or some other Power, or Bulgaria itself, gets the
benefit of it. All that I wish to do is to protect
my countrywoman, Miss Ewing, from the danger
which I believe threatens her. For that, I must
know something about the purposes of the con-
spirators; and I purpose that you shall give me
such information as you possess. One lying word,
and that letter goes to Prince Ferdinand himself.
But if you tell the truth, and I manage to make
Miss Ewing withdraw from the plot or leave the
200


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
East, you can have the letter back. I am no
blackmailer. Let us put our compact this way.
On the day that I am convinced that Miss Ewing's
connection with the conspiracy endangers neither
her person nor her self-respect, the document will
be returned to you. As you cannot help yourself,
I assume that you assent. Now tell me what the
thing is about.
"But I know nothing, Monsieur; nothing at
all!" he whined.
"Oh, yes you do. Who told you of the plot?"
His answer came so weakly and low that the
words were unintelligible.
"Who told you about the plot?" I repeated,
bending to hear the words.
"My chief, the Bulgarian Agent," he whispered,
between his gasps.
"And how did he know of it?"
"Through the Russian Ambassador's valet.
The valet is our spy."
"Ah, the Russian Ambassador! So he is the
man who is at the bottom of the affair; the im-
portant personage of Constantinople."
201


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Yes. It is a Russian plot."
"Now tell me what they intend to do."
"I know little. Ferdinand is to be dethroned,
the principality turned into a kingdom, and Zemoff
made king."
"I understand. It was to delay the execution
of the plot that you had Zemoff arrested this morn-
ing, was it not?"
Paroff nodded his bloody head.
"But how did you know?" he asked, faintly.
"No matter. How is Ferdinand to be dis-
posed of?"
"I do not know."
"Are you sure? That letter, remember."
"I — I swear to you Monsieur, I do not know."
"Very well. As*soon as you leave this hotel you
had better take steps to find out about that point.
Now for Miss Ewing's connection with the plot.
What has she to do with it?"
"That, too, I do not know. We were unaware
that she was involved at all until some one told my
chief, on the bridge in Constantinople, that an
American woman had been given a certain token
202


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
of the conspiracy. We put two and two together.
Miss Ewing is known as a dreaming radical here,
and she has been much in Constantinople. I
think she has been the go-between for the Am-
bassador and the Bulgarians."
So it was that careless remark of mine to the
man in the guise of a Greek priest, that had caused
all the trouble. I cursed myself for a meddling
idiot. It added the last touch to my disappoint-
ment over the meagreness of ParofFs knowledge.
Thus far very little had come to light which would
be of service, and still the man was apparently
willing to tell me all he knew. I had counted
too much, I fear, upon the amount of information
to be gained from him. And I knew not where
else to turn; and the time was short.
"Do you know when the coup d'etat is to be
executed?" I enquired, with more anxiety than I
dared show.
Paroff, in spite of his pale face and painful arm,
smiled grimly.
"I do not know. It was to have been soon, I
imagine. But now that Zemoffis under arrest—"
203


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
He ended with a contemptuous shrug of his well
shoulder.
"It was to have been soon, you say. Do you
know what that token was, of which you spoke, a
moment ago?" I continued.
"Yes. A flower — a dahlia."
"And its meaning?"
"No. But I think it indicated the date settled
upon. We ourselves wanted to see it merely as
proof that the conspiracy really exists. The
Ambassador's valet could overhear only a portion
of the conversation in which the dahlia was spoken
of. A girl — Marie Traube is her name — was to
bring the flower on to the bridge, and give it to the
Ambassador. The day and hour were fixed. The
Ambassador, after doing something with it, was to
pass it on to Zemoff. At least that is the plan
which, according to the valet, the Ambassador
and Zemoff arranged together. The Ambassador
was to be disguised. My chief went down to the
bridge to see the thing; but he just missed the
funicular car, and was late. Had he seen the
flower change hands we would have known at
204


PAROFF IS BROUGHT TO TERMS
once that the valet was giving us reliable infor-
mation. We were not quite sure of him, for he
had more than once lied to us. As it happened,
some fool who was standing there told my chief
about the incident, and that was just as satis-
factory."
I glanced up sharply.
"How do you know anything of what was told
your chief that evening ?" I demanded.
Paroff, without realizing the purport of the
question, fell into the trap. "I learned it from him,
himself."
"In the conversation which you had with him
near that cafe just outside Pera, I suppose. You
are a poor conspirator, Monsieur Paroff. You
forget that, to the world at large, and according to
your own statement, your chief was last seen about
four o'clock."
The man bit his lip with chagrin; but vouch-
safed no answer. He was too weak even to
enquire how I knew about their meeting.
"Now, for the future," I resumed. "It is
another good point for me — that admission which
205


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
you just made; but I trust I shall not have to use
it. Whether your plan, or that of the Russian
Ambassador, succeeds, or things here in Bulgaria
remain in their present state, makes, as I have
said, no difference to me. I have no particular
sympathy in the one direction or the other. What-
ever course I may adopt will be determined on
the simple lines of quid pro quo. Go ahead with
your miserable, traitorous dealings. I will put
no obstacle in your path. If it seems best, I will
perhaps even help you. In return, you are to
share with me every bit of information which you
obtain; and to particularly hunt for such infor-
mation as I require. And in the meantime, you
are to set me right at the club. Is it agreed?
Very well. Now you had better go and see a
doctor about that arm. Here; I will help you wash
that blood from your beard!"
206


CHAPTER XIII
ZEMOFF PREPARES A SURPRISE FOR ME
"DEFORE leaving the Ewings that morning, I
had engaged to return, a couple of hours
later, to learn the results of their visit to the im-
prisoned Zemoff. But this affair with Paroff had
taken time, and it was well on toward one o'clock
when I again found myself at their door. I fear
that, as I rang the bell, my most aggressive thought
was a certain pleasurable anticipation of the sym-
pathetic words which my torn face and bandaged
throat would call forth. No man ever yet loved a
girl and failed to long, consciously or uncon-
sciously, for a chance at the role of hero in her
behalf; and in the marks left by ParofFs nails and
teeth I had an admirable certificate of suffering
devotion to Martha Ewing's cause. And sym-
pathy is and always has been a retroactive
sentiment.
207


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
The drawing room was empty and the maid
went to announce my coming. A moment later
I heard voices in the next room; Miss Ewing's
voice and her father's. At first, of course, I gave
no attention to what they were saying. For the
matter of that, the words were probably too low to
be distinguished. But I did involuntarily catch
the last two sentences, which were uttered in
slightly higher tones. Mr. Ewing's words came
first.
"I forbid you to do it, Martha. It is a man's
business."
"No, Father; I insist;" returned Miss Ewing.
"I owe it to myself to see him — the coward!"
With that, the door opened, and Miss Ewing
came into the drawing room, followed by her
father. Both were in riding costume. Miss
Ewing's eyes were red, as if she had been weeping,
but there was no agitation in her bearing. With-
out greeting, and without a word of surprise at
the change which my appearance had undergone
since she last saw me, she came slowly forward,
holding out a folded piece of writing paper.
208


ZEMOFF PREPARES A SURPRISE
"Will you please open that, and look inside?''
she asked quietly.
I did so. The paper contained the stem of the
dahlia, now dried crisp, and one, two, three — five
of its petals, all but one of them detached from the
flower's centre. With a genuine sigh of relief I
carefully folded the paper up again and returned
it to her.
"By Jove!" I exclaimed. "What luck! So
Zemoff got it away from her."
Miss Ewing looked at me wistfully without any
answering enthusiasm.
"I thought," she quietly returned, "that I could
trust you. You told me that I could, you know."
"And so you can!" I burst out. "You can, to
the last wisp of faith. That I lost the dahlia
before was not my fault, Miss Ewing. I have
solved the question as to how Marie Traube
made her opportunity, if she was its thief. She
stole it while I was asleep, drugged; drugged by
the wine which she poured out for me, that after-
noon at the cottage, just before I went to my
room to rest. But"
209


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Please do not go on," she pleaded, with a
pained gesture. "Such excuses only make the
matter worse. Mr. Zemoff has told me the whole
story of how Marie Traube obtained the dahlia.
I am sorry that our plans miscarried; but that can
be rectified. My father and I start for the cloister
within a few minutes. But your treachery, Mr.
Markham, cannot be set right. There is nothing
more to be said, I think. I merely wished to let
you know that I am aware of it. And now will
you kindly leave us?"
But I did not go. I was rooted to the spot;
dumbfounded.
"Treachery?" I echoed.
My own voice sounded grating in my ears.
Her face broke into a mirthless, weary smile.
"That or cowardly lying; as you will. The
two are almost synonymous. Come, Father."
I would not be so beaten. I did not deserve it.
I sprang before the door as she was about to open it.
"Martha Ewing," I demanded, desperation
making me forgetful of all conventions. "What
is the charge against me? It is not merely that
210


ZEMOFF PREPARES A SURPRISE
I lost the dahlia. What has been my crime?
What has that cad, Zemoff, told you? I have the
right to know."
She paused, and turned so that her great brown
eyes looked squarely into mine.
"Are you so lost to honor, Mr. Markham," she
finally said, slowly, "that you can look me in the
face and ask me to tell you the story of your own
disgraceful behavior? Won't you let me conceal
even a little of my contempt?"
"If I deserve that contempt, I can stand it all.
If not, you are too noble and fair-minded a woman
to cherish even a bit of it. Now, what cock-and-
bull yarn has Zemoff been inventing?"
She yielded, and, with a gesture the cruel list-
lessness of which cut me to the heart, sank upon a
chair.
"Very well; if you insist upon my telling you,
I will," she began. "You say that, while you
were on the way to the duel, you were abducted
and taken to the cloister; and that during the
journey you were drugged and robbed of the dahlia
by Marie Traube. That is a correct version of
211


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
your story, is it not? Now for what really hap-
pened. In response to an urgent message, Mr.
Zemoff went to see Marie Traube at her rooms
last night, and in the course of his visit they had
a quarrel, with the result which you know. But
the quarrel did not begin until their work was
finished. Marie had already turned over the
dahlia stem and told him how she came by it. In
a way, your stories hang together. She admits
that you were kidnapped and were being taken to
the cloister when she met you. But she did not
rob you. Even had there been any reason for
her stealing the dahlia, it would not have been
necessary, for you told her of your plans. You
had been drinking too much wine, and from the
standpoint of your own advantage were foolishly
confidential. You told her they had placed you
on parole, and that you planned to escape while
they were asleep that afternoon. She warned
your guards and prevented your getting away.
You told her about having the dahlia stem, and
that you were sick of all the trouble it had caused
you and had thrown it away. She asked you
212


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
plausible explanation as to how the dahlia left
my possession. The matter clearly sifted down to
a question of veracity between Marie Traube and
myself; and on this I temporarily took my stand.
Miss Ewing impassively listened to my argument.
"Your story falls to the ground of its own dead
weight, Mr. Markham," she quietly said in answer
to my appeal. "You say that Marie stole the
flower in the hope of injuring Mr. Zemoff or my-
self. I had accepted that explanation. But how
does its return affect either of us? I do not see
that we are harmed. Knowing the importance of
the flower, she at once brought it to Mr. Zemoff.
Was that an injury either to him or to me? Was
it not rather the natural act of a woman whose
interest in our affairs is both sincere and active?
Had you yourself been in Marie Traube's place,
with the stolen token in your hands, and wishing to
harm our party, would you have calmly turned the
flower over to the very man whose future its
disappearance would most jeopardize? She did
that, you know. And yet you wish to make her
out a traitor."
214


ZEMOFF PREPARES A SURPRISE
"Marie knew the importance of the dahlia
stem, did she not, and that it ought to be delivered
at once?"
"Yes."
"Had I been in her place and desirous of assist-
ing you, then, I would have taken it to the cloister.
Why did she bring it all the way back here and
lose three days when she was within eight hours
of its destination?"
Miss Ewing hesitated Seeing my advantage,
I pressed on, eagerly.
"Listen. You yourself," I cried, "knew noth-
ing of my whereabouts during those three days.
And my abductors did not know that I had ever
seen the dahlia stem or that I was in any way con-
nected with you. Why, then, should I have
betrayed myself? Why should I have tried to
deliver it; or, if you will have it so, why should I
have pretended to try? I grant you that Marie
Traube's action in restoring it to you is incom-
prehensible. But are you sure she is sincere? May
not the reading of the message have been changed?
The number of petals left seems to be significant.
215


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
Are you sure they are all there? Or that she has
not added more, from another flower?"
The shot scored. Miss Ewing's trembling
fingers opened the folded papers, and she gingerly
counted the curled-up leaves.
"Five!" she murmured. "I think that is the
right number. But, oh, I wish I were sure! Why
didn't I count them before?"
"Do you mean to say that you don't know how
many there were?" I demanded.
"I am afraid I don't," she faltered. "Their
possible importance did not occur to me. I was
merely told, two months ago, that on last Tuesday,
at six o'clock, I would find a dahlia stem near a
certain post on the Galata Bridge, and that I was
to take it to the Abbot. I knew of course that in
some way it set the date for our venture. But its
meaning was secret to every one except the Abbot
and our friend in Constantinople."
"The Russian Ambassador?" I asked quietly.
"The" — Then, as the purport of my question
struck home; "but you — how do you know
that?" she returned in trembling voice.
216


ZEMOFF PREPARES A SURPRISE
"From Paroff. You see my face and bandages?
I have been forcing Paroff's hand. You need have
no more fear from that quarter; for without my con-
sent he cannot move. But I have learned the sub-
stance of the plot. I know, for instance, that Prince
Ferdinand is to be dethroned and Zemoff made
king, and that the conspiracy is backed by Russia."
She looked at me, open-eyed: I had at least
gained one point in this miserable affair. With
the possibility thrust upon her that in spite of
Marie Traube's plausible tale the girl might still
be planning treachery, Miss Ewing lost her apathy.
She was still at odds with me, and I was still on the
defensive; but she had at least become rational and
willing to discuss the matter, and her decision as
to my own guilt was momentarily shaken. This last
disclosure drove the question of it from her mind.
"You — you — will not tell."
"Tell? Of course not," I cried out. "I did
not go through that struggle with Paroff just for
curiosity's sake, nor to learn something about
which I could gossip. There is only one con-
tingency under which I would speak of it at all,
217


ZEMOFF PREPARES A SURPRISE
mently. "Look at me. Have I the appearance of
a liar and a traitor? I swear to you that"
With a wave of his hand he stopped me.
"It is unnecessary, Mr. Markham. Could
there be any question of Marie Traube's disinter-
estedness, we might give you the benefit of the
doubt. But your defense, though ingenious, fails
most miserably. One other person beside the
Abbot and the Ambassador could read the signifi-
cance of the token, and that man is Zemoff. The
dahlia passed from Marie to us through him. He
knew its reading, before it was lost, and after.
Would he not have noted the discrepancy, had
Marie altered its meaning; especially when it
sets the date of his own proclamation as King?
Good day, sir."
Utterly discouraged, I made my way from the
house. While walking back to the hotel a man
and woman overtook me on horseback. They
passed by without a word, without even a sign of
recognition as my eyes met theirs.
Miss Ewing and her father were already on
their way to the Sveti Stefano.
219





CHAPTER XIV
A PAROLE QUICKLY BROKEN
¥ FOLLOWED them with my eyes as they
cantered on, down the broad, tree-lined
avenue of Alexander, to be lost a moment later in
its crowds beyond. Then, bitter and lonely, 1
pursued my way back to the hotel. All my sense
of justice, all my sense of gratitude, was outraged.
I was in black anger, not only against the Ewings,
but against myself, against Sofia, the East, the
World. And yet I knew that Martha Ewing
could not be blamed for her attitude. Had ParofF
not tried to search her valise, our acquaintance
would have ended where it began, in a chance
conversation on a railroad train. I had no other
claim upon her than the fact that, in a moment
of desperation, she had turned to me for help;
and to all appearances I had traitorously neglected
to perform her mission. Without substantial
221


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
proof of my good faith, how could I expect her to
give ear to me rather than to her friends and
associates?
To fill my bitter cup, there remained only the
realization of the level to which my reputation, in
Sofia at large, as well as with Miss Ewing, had
sunk. I was brought to a sense of it by meeting
Fenn-Brook on the street. I saw him approach-
ing, and hastened forward to greet him. He
fastened his eye on mine; not a muscle of his
face moved in recognition, let alone welcome.
Without an instant's hesitation he stepped out of
my way and passed on.
Alone, in my room, I packed my belongings and
prepared to leave Sofia. I was free to leave.
My connection with Miss Ewing and her plans
had been formally broken by Miss Ewing herself.
As for the duel business, I was apparently not even
to be allowed to explain. And, if reduced to the
rank of an ordinary tourist, I had certainly seen
enough — and more than enough—of Sofia. But,
having packed, and having notified the hotel peo-
ple of my intended departure for Vienna by the
222


A PAROLE QUICKLY BROKEN
evening train, I sat down to think. Then I
unpacked again and prepared to fight this thing
out to the last ditch.
I wrote to Fenn-Brook. I told him that, while
refusing to be considered answerable to him or
to anyone else for my conduct, I did not care to be
thought a coward; that Paroff would accordingly
explain to him the cause of my failure to meet
Zemoff; and that although we could give him few
details, I expected an apology for his behavior of
an hour ago. I added that I intended to be in or
about Sofia for some time to come. This note I
sent off by messenger.
Then I tackled in earnest the problem as to
what lay behind Marie's extraordinary tale of my
throwing away the dahlia stem.
But no satisfactory explanation offered itself.
The thing was so strange as to be almost ludicrous.
She had left me vowing vengeance against Zemoff
and Miss Ewing. But there had been no sugges-
tion of enmity to myself. Her desire of vengeance
could have been amply satisfied merely through
the destruction of the token; and I had of course
223


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
assumed that that was the object of its theft. But
here it was, back in Miss Ewing's hand, restored
apparently in the best of faith; and with its restor-
ation came a story which could have no possible
evil results to either Zemoff or Miss Ewing, but
injured me almost beyond hope.
Had there been no signs of her continued anger
against Zemoff, I would have supposed that Marie
had given him the stem as a peace offering, and
invented the story to account for its being in her
possession. But she was still angry. Witness the
subsequent quarrel, which had landed her in the
hospital and Zemoff in jail. According to Zemoff,
she had attacked him; and, after her words at the
Tresnitz cottage, there seemed to be no reason to
assume that he was lying. But, if she had stolen
that dahlia stem in order to satisfy her grudge by
treachery, and the grudge still remained, why had
she so completely changed her plans for ven-
geance?
There was but one explanation which even
suggested itself, and that one was hardly pos-
sible. Paroff's instructions from the Austrian
224


A PAROLE QUICKLY BROKEN
Ambassador had been not to break up the con-
spiracy but to delay its development. She might
therefore have gone to him with her story and been
shown that the best way to punish Zemoff was to
let the conspiracy go on. The two had obviously
managed to get in touch some way, in spite of
StanchofFs endeavors; for it was Paroff, I remem-
bered, who had forced Zemoff's arrest. And yet
I was convinced that, had Marie been playing a
double game, he would have told me of it that
morning.
While I was pondering on all these pros and
cons, sinking every minute deeper into the slough
of perplexity and striving to formulate some new
course of action, who should be announced but
Fenn-Brook himself. He followed closely upon
the heels of the waiter, and came in with his round,
red face beaming.
"By Jove, Markham," he exclaimed, as he
grasped my hand. "I received your note and
could n't wait. Besides, Paroff is off riding some-
where. With his arm in a sling, too. I saw him
pass the Consulate windows an hour or so ago —
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
looked devilishly shaken up by something. Now
out with your yarn. I have been angry with you,
you know; decidedly cut up, in fact. So, for that
matter, has Paroff. But, if what you told him
about your absence has straightened things out
with him, it has with me too. Your word to either
of us is enough, and I apologize. So far as your
absence is concerned, the incident is closed. We 'll
sit about until Zemoff gets out of this new scrape
and then hit him hard, after all, won't we? But
now I should like to know, merely out of curiosity,
what in the devil you have been doing. Why
can't you give me details? More conspiracies?
Tell me all about it, man. By the way, you
have n't any cigars, here, have you? I came off
in such a hurry I neglected to stock up."
And so, for the second time within our short
acquaintance, I gave Fenn-Brook an expurgated
account of a kidnapping. He listened with open
eyes. When I had finished he took his cigar from
his mouth and carefully examined its wrapping,
rolling it over and over in his fingers.
"I say, it's strange; isn't it, Markham?" he
226


A PAROLE QUICKLY BROKEN
commented, finally. I can't understand it, unless
— Do you know, I 'm half inclined to think that
Zemoff himself was at the bottom of the thing.
Ordinarily such a supposition would on its very
face be ridiculous; but there have been vague
rumors that he is mixed up in one of these silly
Balkan conspiracies. It may be that he could n't
afford to fight and saw only this way out of it. You
came back last night, did n't you? And Zemoff
managed to get himself arrested for a few days this
morning. Markham, old fellow, he is avoiding
the fight."
With inside information, I knew better. But I
let it go at that. He was too nearly on the right
track for safe discussion of the subject.
"I would n't say so to anyone else, if I were in
your place," I ventured. "The girl will probably
recover, I understand; and so Zemoff will sooner
or later be liberated. I shall wait here until he is
free."
"Bravo; my boy. Wait; and then eat him up.
By the way, you look a little eaten up yourself,
to-day. What is the matter?"
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
With the suddenness of Fenn-Brook's coming, I
had forgotten my bandaged throat and the dis-
figuring marks of Paroff's nails upon my face, and
had no excuse ready.
"I — I — Paroff and I had a little disagree-
ment," I stammered. "He was rather insulting
at first, before I explained the reason of my
absence."
Much to my relief, Fenn-Brook swallowed it.
"I say! Markham," he exclaimed, with a
hearty laugh, "you are a wonder. So that is what
was the matter with Paroff. He looked like a
Macedonian peasant who had been through the
hands of Turkish tax collectors. I thought, when
I saw him, he ought to be in bed instead of on
horseback."
"You say he was riding past the Consulate?"
I did my best to keep an even voice. But I
knew very well indeed — more surely than Fenn-
Brook — that Paroff was in no condition to be
cantering about on a horse. He was not out in
pursuit of pleasure. And, if not for pleasure,
then it was for business; and Paroff's business,
228


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
some inconsequential remark and gradually the
ice thawed. But we were both ill at ease, and I
could see that he was beginning to doubt my good
faith and frankness. Finally he rose and drew
on his gloves.
"Will you dine at the club?" he asked.
"I hardly think it advisable," I replied. "After
Zemoff is out, I shall be free. But until then —"
His relief was obvious.
"Perhaps you are right," he interrupted. "I
will tell them your story for you."
He opened the door as he spoke and was almost
knocked down by the sudden inrush of—Stan-
choff; of Stanchoff, half beside himself with either
terror or excitement.
"Pardon! Pardon, Monsieur!" he cried to the
astonished Consul as the latter staggered back;
"I did not see you." And then to me, "One
moment, Monsieur Markham; may I see you
alone; it is so very important."
Amazed or curious, I do not know which,
Fenn-Brook forgot his intended departure. Hat
and stick in hand, he stood rooted to the floor.
230


A PAROLE QUICKLY BROKEN
I hastily introduced the two men to one another,
and then, with a word of apology, led the wild-
eyed Bulgarian into the hall. Both he and
Bantscha had invariably shown great complacency
throughout the incidents attendant upon my
abduction; and I guessed that, to excite him in
this way, something of great importance must
have transpired.
"What is it," I demanded, as soon as we were
alone. "Is Marie Traube dead?"
"No, not that. It is Paroff, the spy. Made-
moiselle Ewing has gone to the cloister with the
token, and Paroff is following her."
The words came in so excited a whisper, and
so fast, as to be almost unintelligible.
"Do you not see, Monsieur, that we must
stop him? I have come to you for help. We
must ride hard — harder than we did yesterday.
Come. Take your hat. We shall go on my
own horses. They are fast. He must not over-
take Miss Ewing. He must not learn where
she is going."
His excitement and energy were contagious.
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Of course he must not!" I cried. "Wait here.
I shall be ready in ten seconds."
How Paroff had found out about the Ewing's
departure, what he expected to gain by following
them, or what I had to gain by following him, in
turn, I did not stop to ask either Stanchoff or my-
self. I rushed back into the room and, heedless
of Fenn-Brook, hastily set about the few necessary
preparations. I was interrupted by a hand
brought down hard upon my shoulder. Fenn-
Brook wheeled me round to face him, his eves
blazing.
"See here, Markham, what does this mean?
Who are you, anyway, that you know all
the political riff-raff of Bulgaria? Are you
honest? Remember I am not a private person,
but His Majesty's representative in this for-
saken country. You pretend to be a stranger
here and I have taken you up as my friend.
I surprise you in secret conference, first with
Paroff, then with this fellow. Speak, I say: Are
you honest?"
"Oh, go to the devil! I 'll tell you about it
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
If we choose wrongly, we shall lose an hour. What
do you think of it?"
"When Miss Ewing gave me my own directions,"
I ventured, "she suggested that I pass myself off
as a tourist, on the way to some other cloister —
the Rila, I think she called it. Would her own
greater safety not lie in the same course? To go
openly, I mean. Besides, time presses for them
as much as for us, and the better road is also the
shorter."
"But on the other hand we have friends along
the Tresnitz road"
"Friends who know the Ewings?" I asked.
He hesitated; then, without answering my
question, "Come, we shall try the way we came
by;" and his last words were punctuated by the
clatter of his horse's hoofs.
We rode steadily, side by side; and in jerks and
broken sentences I learned what had transpired.
Paroff, it seemed, had been under surveillance,
and he, in turn, had been having the Ewings
watched. To have his arm set, he had gone to the
same hospital where Marie Traube was resting;
234





CHAPTER XV
PURSUIT
A N HOUR passed. Two hours passed. And
still we kept up that pace. We should
have overtaken them before this. Our horses
were white with foam, and tiring. Since the
moment of my last bold query, Stanchoff had not
spoken; but, riding a little ahead, kept his eyes on
the expanse of plain before him in search for a
horseman's figure. We came to a small stream
running between deep and sharp-cut clay banks.
He pulled up abruptly.
"We may as well give them water," he mut-
tered. "Unless we overtake Paroff within the
next half hour we must strike across country for
the other road, and reach it before dark. He can
hardly have come much farther than this in so
short a time. I fear already we have taken the
wrong route."
237


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
The horses half jumped, half clambered down
the steep incline and, bending their knees, sank
their noses to their bit-rings in the cold water.
We gave them but a taste and then were off again,
racing against the sun's own speed. Stanchoff
still kept the. lead, and, as I followed on, I tried to
think. If we caught Paroff at all on this road, it
would certainly be soon. I did not want him
killed. I did not intend to be a murderer nor to
stand by and see murder done upon any person.
And I needed Paroff alive. Tricky though he
was, he constituted my hope of salvation for Miss
Ewing. Although Stanchoff knew it not, I was
riding hard to save the man whom Stanchoff was
riding hard to kill.
Suddenly my companion gave a shout. In the
far distance ahead of us there appeared a figure.
Paroff? No, the one figure became two; two
black spots against the breast of the rising brown
plain. Peasants? Or the Ewings? They were
much too far off for us to tell. And if they were
the Ewings, then where was the black-bearded
spy who should be behind them? We urged our
238


PURSUIT
horses into a stiffer gallop, then into a run, and,
standing in the stirrup, bent our heads low over
their manes, with eyebrows raised and eyes ahead.
The figures grew larger and larger still. One was
a woman — Miss Ewing, by the Eternal! They
caught the echo of our horses' feet upon the hard
road and both of them turned. Stanchoff waved
his hat and shouted. They must have misunder-
stood; for, an instant later, their horses too were
on the run; running with more ease than ours
because they had been less strained.
And so, desperately, and at first with little hope,
we chased them. We waved, we yelled, and
gradually we gained. Once they turned and, as
if to try us, Ewing swung his hat in the air. We
redoubled our efforts. They were evidently un-
decided, now, whether to keep going or to halt.
But finally they drew rein and doubtfully studied
us as we bore down upon them.
"Paroff? Have you seen him?" cried my
companion, almost before we were within ear-
shot. "Have you seen Paroff?" he demanded
again, as we pulled up our foam-stained horses
239


PURSUIT
me; but both Mr. Ewing and his daughter nearly
jumped from their saddles.
"Zemoff?" cried Martha. "But he was not
to go until the day after to-morrow."
"Paroff was taking no chances," returned Stan-
choff. "He arranged to have the prison guards
changed and our man shifted to another building.
It was to be done at four o'clock. Zemoff had
either to go before that hour, or risk not escaping
at all. But I did not think he would leave until
this afternoon."
Miss Ewing became all energy.
"They must be on the other road, then," she
cried. "Here; quick! Your horses are blown and
tired. Change saddles with us." Without waiting
for our assent, she slipped to the ground and began
to struggle with her saddle girths. The rest of us
quickly followed. Throwing the reins of my own
horse over my arm, I ventured to help her; and
our hands touched at the straps. Her eyes
remained glued upon the work before her and her
lips set hard and cruelly. But a deep crimson
flush covered her face.
241


PURSUIT
in the sunlight. Ahead of us, through the faint
Eastern haze that precedes the twilight, we could
just see the dark outline of an extending mountain
spur. Stanchoff kept his horse's nose toward its
point. We were obviously to round that spur.
The ground was good, then bad, then good again.
We covered great stretches of wheat stubble from
the recent harvest. Now our animals' hoofs
sounded dull upon the soft earth; now we clattered
on through stone-strewn hummocks which emerged
from the dull plain and sank again behind us as
if by magic. Twilight was deepening as we
reached the mountain spur, bold and black. We
skirted its base, headed to the southeast, and
reached the banks of the River Isker. Stanchoff
paused a moment, looking up and down its banks;
then we were off again, following its course. We
found the ford, and plunged into the swift current.
The bottom was rocky and difficult; the water
breast-high on the horses. Suddenly, with a great
splash, my companion and his steed disappeared,
together. They came up thirty or forty feet
below me, the animal swimming and apparently
245


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
trying to climb out upon the surface of the water
in his struggles. I checked my own horse just in
time to avoid a similar fate; and Stanch off waved
and shouted to me to bear further up stream.
Gingerly making my way, I crossed; but Stanchoff
was unable to regain the ford and, turning with the
current, swam down stream, gradually working
toward the bank. He went two hundred yards
before he could find footing and as much more
before he reached a spot where we could bring his
frantic animal up to hard ground again. In all
our long ride, I heard him laugh but once, and that
was when he had reached the bank and looked
down at his dripping clothes.
"I shall have to ride hard to keep warm,"
he said.
But we had reached the end of the cross-country
going, and a moment later were in the long-wished-
for road, heading into the mountains. Even in
the darkness, I recognized, when we approached it,
the little inn where, on my previous journey to the
cloister, we had changed horses. We drew rein
and dismounted, and Stanchoff held a whispered
246


PURSUIT
conversation with the host, who appeared at the
door as we came up. Then he turned to me.
"We are on the right scent, Monsieur," he said,
in a low voice. "Zemoff went by two hours ago
without stopping, and Paroff an hour later. He
made inquiries. The host describes him as a man
with a broken arm and a face as white as death.
We shall change horses here; and I — I shall
change my coat for a sheepskin. Let us have
something to eat and drink, too. There cannot
be much hurry, for as yet Paroff has not gained."
The 'something to eat and drink' proved to be
nothing more than black bread and resinous wine;
but nevertheless it was welcome. We made but
a short stop and then, with fresh horses under our
saddles, continued our stumbling way into the dark
valleys of the mountains. It was a solitary road,
rough and steep beyond even what my former trip
over it had told me, and the pace became
intolerably slow. We came to no villages. Only
an occasional peasant's cottage broke the loneli-
ness. And these Stanchoff passed in silence. We
overtook no one and met no one. Some time after
247


PURSUIT
may have missed the branch road and continued
on through the valley. But I doubt whether he
has gone further than Tresnitz, yonder. He
would make inquiries there and find that Zemoff
had not passed by. He would learn of this other
road, ride hard to the upper end of it, and then
either wait, or return past this cottage. Failing
to find Zemoff, he would go back to Tresnitz and
rest. At least I would do so, in his place. There
is no other village where he can stop. We too will
rest and be ready to go on to the cloister in the
morning. We must guard Zemoff; but you your-
self must not see him, or rather, may I say, he must
not see you. You understand. You can go into
the same room that you occupied before. Stay
there, to-morrow morning, until I call. I shall
keep watch for Paroffthe rest of the night."
The peasant returned with a smoky lantern, and
StanchofF, taking it from him, escorted me to the
familiar out-building. As he bade me good night
I turned to him.
"One moment, please, Monsieur Stanchoff. I
have done my best to help you in this venture.
249


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
You believe my story as to how the token was lost,
do you not?"
"But certainly, Monsieur. Otherwise I would
not have called upon you."
"Then tell Miss Ewing so. She does not."
Stanchoff held out his hand.
"I will. A good sleep to you, Monsieur."
A good sleep! Sound sleep was not to bless my
eyes that night. My very weariness prevented it.
Heavens! what a day this last had been. Was it
possible that only that very morning I had told
Miss Ewing of the loss of the dahlia stem; that
only that morning Paroff and I had had our fight,
that the report of Zemoff's arrest had come? Those
early hours of the day seemed to have been a part
of by-gone ages.
And Paroff's following of Zemoff; his knowl-
edge of the road! Fourteen hours before, he had
known nothing of the Sveti Stefano. Now, an
hour behind the fugitive, he had hit unerringly
upon the latter's destination and, until at this last
turn, had unerringly pursued him. He could
have learned the way only in that stolen interview
250


PURSUIT
with Marie Traube at the hospital. Marie, then,
was a traitor, after all; and, if the dahlia stem had
been peaceably restored to Zemoff, she had done
it in furtherance of traitorous plans. The thing
was too complicated for my tired brain. And so,
confused and strained by the events of the day,
and seeing their sequel only in bloodshed on the
morrow, I tossed and fretted through the night
in alternate nightmare and restless wakefulness.
251


CHAPTER XVI
WITHOUT MERCY
f"PHE morning came, clear and bright. I dis-
covered that Stanchoff had taken no chances
in his determination to prevent a meeting between
Zemoff and myself. Some time during the night
he had locked the door from the outside and I was
virtually a prisoner. The two men were awake
and stirring early. I conscientiously kept away
from the window, but from the recesses of the
room I could see them, even before sunrise, sitting
at the rough table under the porch, drinking
Turkish coffee. Stanchoff, still in the sheepskin
coat which he had borrowed at the inn, looked
unkempt and haggard. He had evidently carried
out his declared intention to remain on watch all
night.
The peasant owner of the cottage came out and,
after a few words of direction from Zemoff, strode
253


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
I could not stand by and see this thing done.
And yet I knew not how to save him. The door
was firm, the window sash nailed down; and to
noisily break my way out would be worse than
foolish. The two men hiding in those bushes
would let nothing of which they were forewarned
stand in their path. There was a chance, prob-
ably a mere chance, that Paroff would come from
the south, for the road, so I understood, was only
a branch, joining the main highway again at either
end. If he did come from that direction he would
pass the cottage before he reached the ambuscade.
Then I might smash the glass in the window and
so warn him. Even then it would be close work.
He would stop within a hundred yards of his
enemies. And if he came from the other direc-
tion he would never reach within hearing distance
of the crash.
But I could shout. I drew my pocket knife,
and desperately, but noiselessly, attacked the wood
about one of the panes. It was slow work, for the
wood was hard and seasoned and the blade a
slender one. But I managed it finally, and drew
256


WITHOUT MERCY
a great sigh of relief as I removed the glass and
felt the cool air of early morning strike my face.
Then I had only to wait. To the south the road
was shut from view by the cottage; but, in the
other direction, I could follow its course until it
rounded a projecting ridge in the hillside three or
four hundred yards away. And from behind that
ridge I soon saw Paroff appear.
As he came in sight of the cottage he halted,
apparently reconnoitering. Then, seeing nothing
astir, he proceeded slowly on, keeping his horse
at a walk. I determined to let him come within a
hundred yards of his enemies; within two hundred
of myself. To call before he could distinguish
my words would be but to make him hasten for-
ward and ensure his destruction.
Slowly and cautiously he approached, only the
upper part of his body and the horse's head show-
ing above the bushes which lined the road. It
was horrible, that steady, even, crawling gait. If
only he would urge his horse into a gallop; put
some action into the situation. But he would not.
The agony was to be dealt out to me piecemeal.
257


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
He was almost there, now, almost at the mark
which I had selected as the safety limit. He
was there. I yelled, pressing my face against
the little opening in the window until its splint-
ered edges cut the flesh. I yelled to him to
stop. He heard and jerked the reins, and, feel-
ing the jerk, the unprepared horse bounded
forward. I tried again; and my voice failed me.
Only a choking gurgle came forth. I tried again,
in desperation.
"Stop. For God's sake, stop!"
For my own ears the cry drowned the accom-
paniment to two little smoke-clouds that appeared
over the bushes. Involuntarily my eyes closed.
When I opened them again, I saw a horse's head,
motionless, raised high in the air, its ears erect,
its nostrils distended, its eyes searching for the
danger spot. But Paroff had disappeared.
Stanchoff and Zemoft rose from their hiding
places and stepped into the road. Zemoff caught
the frightened animal and led him toward the
cottage. Stanchoff delayed a few minutes and
then appeared, close to the wall, staggering under
258


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"I shall bring him here myself and look after him
until, at least, he is carrion."
Stanchoff contented himself with the remark
that I was causing myself useless trouble. But
he stepped aside and let me have my way.
He was right, clearly right, in saying that Paroff
had a very short time to live. I found the man
huddled up, limp and motionless, against the stone
wall where Stanchoff had thrown him. His face
was colorless and he was hardly breathing; the only
sign that he was not dead being a faint bubbling
of the blood which had gathered about his thin lips.
I carefully lifted the unconscious form and
staggered across the field with it to my room where
I laid it upon the bed. Then I went for water.
There were two wounds; one of them a ragged
gash of the scalp, across the back of his head; the
other entering his body just under the left arm,
where his coat was soaked dark red with blood.
This, evidently, was the fatal wound. Zemoff had
lain on that side, and it was his bullet that had
pierced the lung. I was no surgeon, and could do
little except open the poor fellow's clothes and
260


WITHOUT MERCY
bathe the blood from his lips; but his life was
beyond the saving of any man. My one endeavor
was to bring him to consciousness, if for even a
few minutes, that he might know he was not dying,
like a dog in the ditch, without friends. And
gradually I succeeded. His eyelids quivered,
then slowly drew back; and he stared at me with
filmy, unseeing eyes. He turned a little and
groaned. I bathed his forehead, his mouth, his
neck, in the cold water, and bathed them again;
and little by little he fought his way back to life.
He recognized me, now, and his lips moved.
Bending my ear close to him I caught the words,
half spoken, half gurgled:
"The letter? You will destroy it, now,
Monsieur?"
I nodded, and motioned to him to be silent.
But with returning strength he again essayed to
talk, striving to relieve his mind of some burden.
"Who did it, Monsieur?" he murmured.
"Zemoff?"
"Yes, Zemoff and Stanchoff," I whispered.
"They were in the bushes by the road."
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"I remember," faintly. "He must not be king.
You will stop it?"
I ground my teeth together.
"I will," I promised him, between them.
His eyes closed for a minute or so; then opened,
and he began again.
"And my chief. You know where he is?"
"Yes." I really did, in a way.
"Get him free. It was I who betrayed him.
I wrote to Zemoff an unsigned note — I told him
my chief knew — and where — they could catch
him. I had to — be rid of him — Get him
free."
Again I promised.
"And Austria. She must not succeed. You
will return — the money?"
"Yes. Can you tell me where it is?"
"In my rooms. Gold. You will take it back
to Constantinople; I must — I must — not die
— a traitor. I must"
The words died away in an inarticulate mur-
mur, and he became silent and deathlike. I
thought this was the end. But after some minutes
262


WITHOUT MERCY
he again rallied, and again I bent over him to
catch what he was saying.
"Miss Ewing — you will take her away?"
"Yes, if she will go," I answered. The tears
streamed down my cheeks.
"She must. She — does not know. Listen.
I loved her. She would not heed me. That was
last year. And then — I thought I hated — her.
I lied to you to — injure her. I know the plot.
She must be saved."
And then, with many an interruption, and in
broken sentences and single words, he told me the
truth.
The effort was nearly too much for him, and
after that he did not speak again until at the very
last. I sat motionless by his side for an hour,
stroking his hands or head, listening to the hor-
rible, low gurgling of the blood in his throat.
Once Stanchoff came to the door and impatiently
told me that we should be starting back. I did
not turn nor answer him. Once the peasant came,
and went away grinning. Paroff lay apparently
unconscious, and the end was fast approaching.
263


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
Finally he opened his eyes, but they were without
power of sight. His lips moved slowly and
with difficulty. He spoke to himself.
"She is — so — beautiful."
That was all. The conspirators had had their
way.
I sought the open air. Stanchoff was sitting
under the porch, and I strode up to him.
"I am ready to go at any time now," I
announced, abruptly. "But you and I, Mon-
sieur Stanchoff, will take different paths. I shall
keep quiet about this thing for ten days — unless
Miss Ewing comes to harm in the meantime. Do
you understand?"
"Ten days are sufficient, Monsieur," he an-
swered, gravely.
In our ride .back to Sofia I gave Stanchoff an
hour's start and took pains not to overhaul him.
264


CHAPTER XVII
MARIE TELLS THE TRUTH
/^VN THAT dahlia stem were left five petals.
It was only a guess, of course, but I felt
quite sure that they indicated that something was
to happen on the fifth day of October. "The
Igumen is anxious; for September is nearly gone,"
Marie Traube had said. And the Abbot himself,
in his directions to Bantscha, had used the words:
"Only two more days of September, and in two
days our friend may leave Constantinople." If I
was right, then, whatever I could do to keep my
promise to the dying Paroff and to save Miss
Ewing from the consequences of her own enthu-
siasm, must be done in the next four days. This
was already October the first.
Sitting in my room at the hotel, late that night,
I realized that, in spite of ParofFs confessions,
the task had become more and more arduous, and
265


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
that I could rely on no help from others. My
mainstay was dead; I had broken with Stanchoff,
and quarreled with Fenn-Brook, and was in dis-
grace with the Ewings. First one circumstance
and then another, fitting in with the general
scheme of ill-luck, had reduced me almost to the
position of an absolute stranger in Sofia. But not
quite. Marie Traube, if she was not already dead,
remained a possibility. She could bear no spite
against me, personally, and any traitorous intrigue
which she might have entered into with Paroff
had certainly been terminated by the spy's death.
There was at least a fighting chance that Marie
could be induced to speak, to tell the truth, and to
assist me in a reconciliation with Miss Ewing.
And to Marie I determined to go on the morrow,
with the opening of the hospital doors.
At the hospital the next morning I found, to my
relief, that Marie was not dead; that in fact she
was on the road to rapid recovery, and bright and
cheerful. And, to my disappointment, I found
that 'visitors' hours' were from two to four in the
afternoon. The officials were very firm. I could
266


MARIE TELLS THE TRUTH
not possibly see her earlier than that; it was ab-
solutely forbidden; and so on. For the first time
in my acquaintance with Sofia I was to pass five
successive hours in idleness.
I spent them in my room. I read my American
mail, and read it again. I absorbed a copy of the
London Times, four days old, from the first column
to the last, including parliamentary records and
police court items, and reveled even in the news
that McLinn and McLinn, 62 a. Bond St., W., were
having a sale of hunting boots. Indeed, with the
exception of two items, that was about as important
as anything else in the entire paper. One of these
two was an editorial on railway projects in Asia.
It spoke of the fact that the Sultan of Turkey,
amplifying the concession of the Bagdad line to
Germany, was about to give that country the right
to build a number of other roads in Asia Minor
which would open up that entire district and be
continued into Persia. The article went into the
history of similar projects in the past and showed
how Russia, rather than consent to anything which
would render easier the mobilization of Turkish
267


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
troops in Asia, or interfere with her own designs
upon Northern Persia, had always blocked those
projects; and that on this occasion, likewise, she
might be expected to put every possible obstacle
in the path of Germany's venture.
The second article was a telegraphic despatch
from Tiflis, in the Caucasus, and read thus:
The railroad from here to Kars, on the Turkish frontier,
has been temporarily closed to passenger traffic. Travelers
report a large movement of Russian troops in that direction.
The military authorities in Tiflis, however, state that this is
only incidental to the forthcoming Fall maneuvers, which this
year are to be held in the Southern Caucasus.
It was rather stretching matters to read into
these lines any connection between the concen-
tration of Russian troops under the shadow of
Mount Ararat and the delivery of a withered flower
to the Abbot of a Bulgarian monastery. But
nevertheless, in the present receptive state of my
imagination, such a connection seemed not only
possible but probable. I cut out both editorial
and despatch and placed the clippings in my
pocket-book. There was a chance, just a bare
chance, that they might turn out an important
268


MARIE TELLS THE TRUTH
weapon. At any rate, the Russian Ambassador
in Constantinople is an exalted personage, and
any conspiracy in furtherance of which he could
find it necessary to disguise himself and appear on
the Galata Bridge as a disreputable old beggar
had something more for its object than the mere
dethronement of a petty Balkan prince. And I
knew enough about international politics to
understand that the building of a Turko-Persian
railway under any other influence than her own
would be vitally detrimental to Russia's policy
of expansion in Southern Asia.
The hour of two found me at the hospital, and I
was at once shown to Marie Traube's room. It
was clear that, even had Zemoff not escaped,
Paroff's design to keep him in jail would soon have
fallen through, for the girl's injury had turned out
to be comparatively slight, after all. The physi-
cians had deprived her of her mass of blond hair,
and her shorn head was swathed in bandages; but
she was resting comfortably and on the high road
to recovery.
My visit was a surprise to her; so much of a
269


MARIE TELLS THE TRUTH
"I am not at liberty to tell you who did it. But
that is immaterial. The important point is that
he is dead. That ends all the treachery you have
done thus far, does it not?" I asked, severely.
"Yes." The word was scarcely audible.
"And it also leaves you alone; doesn't it?
Paroff promised, I suppose, that he would protect
you from the anger of your party?"
"Yes. He was to get money for me."
"From Austria?" I insinuated.
She nodded faintly. "And we were to go back
there together afterwards."
"You would not go back to Zemoff?"
I choked as I asked the question. All my hopes
turned upon it. And my hopes were satisfied.
Weak though she was, the mention of her quondam
lover's name called forth in her the dormant
virago.
"Go back to Zemoff, the pig-dog?" she fairly
screamed. "I — the Traube! When he lied to
me? When he would leave me in the dirt? To
Zemoff? When he would leave me and marry
the Miss Ewing, the little Miss Ewing? Yes. I
271


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
would go back to him. I would go back to kill
him, to poison him, like a dog. That I would do.
But not"
The outburst was too much for her strength.
Her breath failed, and, pale but stormy eyed, she
sank back upon her pillow.
"You must be quiet. Don't excite yourself so,"
I reasoned gently. "You need never see him again
unless you wish it."
She slowly regained her calm, and then I
resumed the attack, but with more caution.
Another explosion like that would probably bring
the nurse and physician into the room.
"But if you feel so strongly against Zemoff," I
asked, carefully feeling my way, "why did you
give him back the dahlia stem?"
"But I did n't give it back to him!" she cried.
"You"
"He stole it from me."
I clenched my hands in the effort to keep cool.
"He stole it? When?"
"I do not know. It was after the quarrel. I
— I had put it in a paper in my dress."
272


MARIE TELLS THE TRUTH
"And you did not tell him that you had found
it; that I had thrown it away?"
The question seemed to bewilder her.
"Of course not. Why should I ?" she answered.
"I never even told him that I had it."
"Then how in the world did the thing come into
his possession?" I demanded. "It was returned
by him to Miss Ewing with that story."
"Ah! I see. The pig-dog!" she cried, with
indications of a returning outburst. "He would
be false to you as well as to me. But I will tell
you what happened. Listen. It was this way.
I came back to Sofia and sent for him that night. I
reviled him, that he would throw me off. We
both grew angry, and I would kill him with a knife
that lay upon the table. But, as I ran at him,
he struck me with his fist, and I fell hard
against the table. Then I knew no more. But
later I awoke, and was on the sofa, and the Zemoff
was bending over me. My dress was wet, for he
had thrown water upon me in his fright. And he
had opened it at the throat, perhaps that I might
obtain air. The token I had placed there in my
273


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
bosom, and he had found it. It was in a paper,
and he held it in his hand. That is how he came
by the dahlia. The lying pig! And he would
injure you with the Ewing, that she might drive
you away and marry him, the Zemoff. So it was
that he told her I had picked it up where you had
thrown it, and had given it to him. But it shall
not be. I have hate for him; but from her he shall
not have love. I will send to her that she come
and hear the truth from me. Is it not so?"
So that was the real way of it. The lie had come,
not from Marie, but from that miserable hound
himself; and had been invented partly, perhaps, in
payment for the treatment which I had meted out
to him at the club, partly to secure my dismissal
at Martha Ewing's hands. Now that the expla-
nation was before me, it seemed so simple. I
laughed aloud, bitterly, to think how blind a fool I
had proved myself.
But I took care of the future. I rendered it
unnecessary for Miss Ewing to come to the hos-
pital to hear Marie's story. For sitting there by
her bedside, I wrote that story out, in full, on odd
274


MARIE TELLS THE TRUTH
slips of paper and the backs of envelopes, at her
dictation. And on each sheet, before I left, was
written the signature of Marie Traube.
With due regard to my promises to Paroff, I
also obtained the address of the house in Con-
stantinople where I had been confined, and where,
as was to be expected, the Bulgarian Agent was
still kept a prisoner. One other thing I may
relate, though it is not especially pertinent to my
narrative. Early the next morning I went to the
bank and half exhausted what remained on my
letter of credit. I drew the money in hundred
franc gold pieces, fifty of them, and sent it to her.
I thought afterward it was a foolish act, liable, as
it looked like bribery, to vitiate my story. But
the girl deserved it; and, never seeing her again,
I never had opportunity to thank her in any other
way.
275


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
I determined to avoid forcing matters, and so
instructed him not to wait for an answer; trusting
that she, herself, once set right in her belief, would
hold out the olive-branch of peace. And she did.
The longed-for word came back in little time; a
single sentence, written in pencil on the back of my
own note. "Come and grant me pardon," it
said. Nor did I waste time in going.
Miss Ewing looked at me with eyes that were
half pleading, half questioning, and came slowly
forward to the table by which I was standing. For
the moment neither of us spoke. I inwardly
insisted that she should be the one to break the
ice; and obstinately busied myself in turning the
pages of some foolish book that she might see I
was waiting. She gently touched my arm.
"Will you — won't you please be generous?"
That was enough; more than I had counted
upon. I wheeled about, conscience-stricken, and
took her two outstretched hands in mine.
"I am a brute," I exclaimed, "a miserable brute.
The slate is clean; and we shall forget that anything
was ever written on it — both of us, shall we not?"
278


UNCONVINCED
Her smile warmed my heart.
"That is better," she replied approvingly, as
she withdrew her hands from my grasp. "But I
cannot permit us to forget my lack of faith until
after I have told you how sorry I am. And still
a little can be said in my defense. Don't you
think so? Mr. Zemoff and Marie were both
working with me; or, at least, they had given me
no reason to look for falsehood on their part. I
honestly tried, tried very hard, to find some excuse
for you. But their story was so plausible, so"
"You were fully justified," I interrupted. "Even
while I was protesting against my condemnation,
I saw that. Why should you have believed in me
rather than in your associates? What am I to
you but a chance acquaintance?"
"You are my good friend, and I thank you for
it. You have proved your claim." And then
with a laugh, "When I chose my knight, that day
on the Galata Bridge, I had no idea that he would
have so much to do."
"He turned out a very bungling knight, I fear.
But he trusts you will still remain his lady."
279


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"You must have been perplexed over more
than that," I answered. "How do you suppose
I guessed that Bantscha and Stanchoff belonged
to your side; or even that Zemoff was involved
in the plot?"
"Did it come from Paroff?" she demanded,
bending eagerly forward.
"Not at all. I worked the whole thing out
myself from this." And I told her, from the
beginning, the story of the dahlia as I had fol-
lowed it.
"And if you will permit me to say so," I re-
marked in conclusion, "no man ever yet stumbled
on a more clumsy and idiotic method of sending
a message than by that dahlia stem."
"That may be, in view of all that has hap-
pened," she rejoined. "But at first the idea
did not appear so weak. The Russian Am-
bassador has been helping us, but he wished to
leave no traces of his participation in the
plot, lest the other Powers should say it was a
Russian intrigue. All the details were left to us.
We had two months in which to perfect them.
282


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Stop," I cried laughing. "I plead guilty.
I admit having bungled everything from beginning
to end. But it does n't matter now, does it? You
delivered the dahlia stem, safely, did you not?
And," I added, pointedly, "in time?"
"Yes, luckily, but only just in time."
"The date set is the fifth of this month?"
"Yes. Father is at this moment in town warn-
ing our friends. But — but how did you know
that?" she demanded.
"Another guess, from a word dropped here and
there. By the way, I suppose that ZemoflF reached
the cloister in safety, and is still there?"
"He arrived just before Father and I started
for home," she answered. "It seems that you and
Mr. Stanchoff were wrong; that you found no
trace of Paroff, after all. What a ride you had,
and all for nothing!"
"Did Zemoff tell you that? Well, it proves
that if anyone involved in this affair is an idiotic
bungler, Zemoff himself is the man. He surely
might have known I would find my way to you.
Miss Ewing, he lied when he said we did not find
284


UNCONVINCED
Paroff, for we did. Do you wish me to tell you
what happened?"
She looked up at me in amazement. Then,
when she really saw my expression, she shuddered
and grew pale. Her lips opened, but no words
issued from them.
"Miss Ewing," I continued, gently, after a
pause, "you need not fear ParofFs spying any
longer. He has been killed."
"Not"
"He was shot," I went on, cruelly, "yesterday
morning, near the Tresnitz cottage. Zemoff and
StanchofF were in ambush for him, as he came up
the road. It was ZemofFs bullet that finished
him."
She sat spellbound, hardly comprehending my
words. Slowly their meaning forced itself upon
her, and the look of horror crept into her eyes.
The revelation gave rise to no panic, no hysterical
crying. But because of her very calm, it seemed
to have cut the deeper. If the proper moment to
strike was ever to be vouchsafed me, this was that
time.
285


UNCONVINCED
though that pupil were a fit man it would be un-
wise. There is not a Bulgarian in the country
who is not a fly-a-way, a transcendentalist, a
dreamer of Empire; who, if he were King,
could see aught but the sword as the means to
Empire.
"But Zemoff is not even that. Bulgaria needs
schools, needs industries. Is Zemoff the man to
give her them? Bulgaria needs to be raised above
the bickerings and deceptions of her sister states
in the Balkans. Is a man who would lie as Zemoff
lied to you a fit man to guide her policies? Think
of those peasants at Tresnitz. Which is the better
example for them? A ruler from Europe, like
Ferdinand, or a man who shoots his enemies from
the bushes by the roadside?"
She shuddered and tried to withdraw her hands;
but I held them firmly.
"No. I shall not let you go yet," I insisted.
"You must hear me out. Afterward, if you will,
you may keep the way of your false friends, and
suffer for it. And God knows that I shall suffer,
too, but not until I have made a struggle to save
287


UNCONVINCED
fail. You gain nothing if they are successful. You
have worked for what you believe to be a noble end.
Let your work, your sympathy, stop there, when,
even if the plot does prove to be less honorable than
you suppose, you can still say, 'I did it for the
best.' And, if you are wrong and I am right,
think of the horror, the torture of your conscience,
to which you are condemning yourself. I do not
ask you to wreck the conspiracy, no matter what
its real aims may be. I ask you merely to break
away from it while you can still do so with a mind
free from guilt. If you refuse, then I must save
you, as best I can, in my own way."
I held out my hand in farewell. But she did not
take it. She was very pale and frightened, but
she had not yet given up all hope.
"You must not do it; you must not do it," she
repeated, numbly, over and over again. And then
she found a way out of the labyrinth. "Mr.
Markham," she exclaimed eagerly, "if I can find
a means to prove that you are wrong, that all of us
mean well, and only well, by this poor country,
will you be content?"
293


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"I will," I answered, promptly, "and make
amends, if I can, by helping you to the very end."
"Then — I do not know whether the idea is
feasible, but we can try. The conference with the
Ambassador, at the cloister, is fixed for the even-
ing of the fifth. There, surely, the true plan will
come to the surface. My father and I were not
to go. But we will go, and you shall go with us
— as eavesdroppers, if necessary — and hear what
they have to say. After that, if you wish to inform
on us, do so. You will still have a week's time.
You see," she ended anxiously, "I — I am very
eager for your good opinion."
I hesitated. Time was valuable; and, with the
picture of that cloister before my eyes, the picture
of those grim walls, crowning abruptly the steep
slopes of the hill, of the narrow, ledgeless windows,
sweeping the valley in all directions, and of that
heavy, battle-scarred oaken door, I saw little prom-
ise of success in any such venture as this which
Miss Ewing now proposed. But, after all, I was
asking much. And she — she was asking merely
that, before bringing odium and imprisonment
294


UNCONVINCED
upon her friends, I should thoroughly test my
knowledge. My indecision was but momentary.
"When shall we start?" I asked.
"You will go? You will go? she cried, clap-
ping her hands. "Now I believe you."
295





CHAPTER XIX
FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
ri^OGETHER Miss Ewing and I discussed the
details of the expedition; and the more we
discussed them the more arduous seemed the path.
Once or twice I tried to make Miss Ewing abandon
her plan; but was met each time with a blunt re-
fusal. She had set her hopes too firmly upon the
success of the conspiracy, or rather of the con-
spiracy as she saw it, to be deterred by any risk;
and as for myself—Well, to go to the authorities
would do no good unless she would leave town be-
forehand; and leave town she would not. My one
hope, not only of winning, but of saving this girl,
had come to rest in a plan which in itself placed
both our lives at stake.
Mr. Ewing came in shortly afterward and was
taken into our confidence. He protested, of
course; protested vehemently. But like many
297


FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
third of the way, from the town of Samakoff
on. She and her father might pass them with-
out being reported, for she had the counter-
sign. But it might well be doubted whether
they could take me with them without at once
arousing suspicion.
I inquired how early the guard on the lower
road would be set. Miss Ewing thought that,
at the latest, the patrolling would begin on the
morning of the fifth; perhaps even the day before.
My only course, therefore, lay in forestalling that
guard by reaching the neighborhood of the cloister
before the pickets were sent out. This we finally
agreed upon; and it was also settled that the
Ewings should so time their own journey as to
arrive after dark on the evening of the fifth, and
meet me just at the entrance of the broad valley
in which the cloister was situated. Within certain
limits, the later they made the trip the better, of
course, it would be; for the guard was to be placed
with the idea, not of stopping traffic, but of watch-
ing and reporting all suspicious travelers. It was
our hope that, by going through at the last hour,
299


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
they would either escape observation altogether,
or at least be reported at the cloister only after the
meeting was over and we were well started on our
homeward way.
I bade them, then, good-bye with rather dubious
prospects of success. The prospects were not
especially brightened by the discovery I made
shortly afterward that I was being followed. At
first it was only an inconspicuous cabby who had
halted his horse a few doors distant from the
Ewings's house. I noticed him then only because
I debated inwardly as to whether I should take a
carriage back to the hotel or walk. But later I
saw him in front of the hotel, resolutely refusing
fares on the plea that he was engaged. It was
this which roused my suspicions. I tested the
truth of that statement by trying to hire him for a
drive through the Prince Boris Gardens, and found
that I, myself, could easily enough secure him.
After our return he took up a position across the
street, and until late in the afternoon he was still
there. Along toward five o'clock he disappeared,
but watching through the shutters of my window,
300


FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
I saw him exchange signs with a loiterer at the
hotel door before he went.
All this espionage created a very embarrassing
situation. My intention was to leave for the clois-
ter early the next morning; and, unless I could
shake off my followers before then, every plan
which we had formed would be upset. And cer-
tainly I could not shake them off if I remained in
the hotel.
It was inspiration, I think, which made me turn
to Fenn-Brook. With vague intentions of eluding
my pursuers by slipping away in the darkness or
through an alley or by doubling on my tracks, I
knew not which, I went for a walk; and Chance
led me to his Consulate. I went in and found
Fenn-Brook sipping a whiskey and soda prepara-
tory to dressing for dinner. I had no clear reason
for stopping, nor anything of importance to say;
and perhaps my very indecision, which was not at
all relieved by the look of Fenn-Brook's eye, de-
cided me to take the bull by the horns and enlist
him in Miss Ewing's cause. Be that as it may, I
am sure I had no earthly idea of taking such a
301


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
step as I entered his door; and yet, once inside,
I went straight to the point.
"Fenn-Brook," I began, "you have been rather
mystified by some of my actions, I think. You
have cause; but I have come to explain them to
you. Will you lay aside your office for the moment
and listen? My countrywoman, Miss Ewing,
needs some help, and, except for her father, who
needs it too, you and I are about the only two
able-bodied Anglo-Saxons in the city."
Fenn-Brook pushed the decanter toward me.
"You will find Apollinaris on the window-sill
there. You look beastly nervous and done up,
you know. What's the matter with the Ewings?
Anything that the British Government can do, of
course"
I poured out a long drink as he rattled on.
"This is not a matter that you can attend to
in your capacity as His Majesty's Consul, unfortu-
nately," I broke in. "It's a matter of helping Miss
Ewing out of the devil of a hole which she refuses
to admit that she has fallen into. It needs a
cavalier, not a diplomat."
302


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
trifle early yet, but you might light up and close
the shutters. And by the way, James, I will not
dress to-night. Get Mr. Markham and myself
a bite to eat, here."
"Yes, sir," said James.
Until we were alone again Fenn-Brook did not
speak. Then, however, he surprised me.
"Do you know, Markham," he began, with the
closing of the door, "our Service Code contains a
certain very generous regulation. It provides
that, in urgent cases, His Majesty's represen-
tatives may absent themselves from their posts
for a period of not over five days without leave.
I think this an extraordinarily urgent case! don't
you?"
I gazed at him in astonishment.
"You don't mean"
"Oh, but I do, my boy. The interests of
citizens of the United States, here in Bulgaria
come, by international agreement, under my
charge, you know; and certainly, if any man ever
needed a guardian, you are the man. Oh, don't
be offended. Besides, you know, it will be a
3°4


FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
great lark. We must go to-night. But first let
us put your dodger out of the way."
I liked Fenn-Brook. But I must confess that
this new turn hardly pleased me.
"But Miss Ewing — should she not be con-
sulted?" I ventured.
"Oh, bother Miss Ewing," exclaimed my com-
panion. "You appealed to me, my dear fellow,
in the name of chivalry. And chivalry you shall
have to the limit. I would n't miss it for anything
short of the Paris or Berlin Embassy. Here is a
plan for you."
The plan was duly unfolded and approved. In
pursuance of it, Fenn-Brook wrote a note to the
hotel porter saying that I had just sprained my
ankle and would be laid up for a few days at the
Consulate. Then he again summoned his valet.
"James," said he, "you will find a certain loafer
outside, near the door. Hire him, in Mr. Mark-
ham's name, to take that note to the hotel. Give
him a franc — no more. And incidentally, James,
Mr. Markham has just injured himself, severely;
perhaps broken his leg. You are to go for a
305


FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
them, we shortly afterward issued silently into the
courtyard in the rear of the Consulate, to find
there two horses saddled and supplied with
blankets and packs. We mounted, and turning
toward the stable, made our way along a narrow
path, through a couple of arched gates, and into
the next street. We followed the less frequented
thoroughfares through the city, and finally, without
further incident, emerged upon that long road
across the plain.
Fenn-Brook chuckled to himself.
"The success of our ruse to get rid of your spot-
ter may not endure very long," said he, "but by
Jove, Markham, they certainly won't look for
you in this direction."
That night we rode only about twenty miles,
and rested at a little inn just at the edge of the
foot-hills. But on the morrow, the third, we were
off, bright and early. The crucial moment of
the day came when we reached Samakoff. It
was hardly probable, of course, that the con-
spirators had already posted their watchers there,
but Fenn-Brook elected not to pass through the
3°7


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
main street. Instead, we turned off sharply at
the outskirts of the town and stumblingly made
our way through byways and rubbish-heaped back
alleys. Thanks to these precautions, perhaps, we
traversed the place without further annoyance
than was offered by the escort of dirty-faced and
towsled youngsters who scampered about at our
horses' heels.
Once more upon the open road, we pushed
hastily on. Time was becoming precious now.
We rode until late in the afternoon, almost to
within hailing distance of the cloister itself; and,
as luck would have it, we encountered no one save
a few ragged peasants. Near the cloister a deep
gully opened from the right upon the main
valley, and Fenn-Brook discovered a narrow bridle
path, hardly more than a trail, leading up it.
Without hesitation he turned his horse's head in
that direction.
"We're fortunate, my boy," he commented,as
we dodged the overhanging boughs. "This
means, you know, that somewhere up here there
is a cottage. It may be rough, but it will be better
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FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
than lying in the open for two nights. And a
gold piece goes a long way with these people."
To a cottage the path led, surely enough. We
found it, after half an hour of toil, in a little open
space; the duplicate, except for the absence of
outbuildings, of the Tresnitz peasants' home.
Fenn-Brook, bull-headedly vociferating in a tongue
which suggested the squawking of a poorly taught
British parrot, rather than the Bulgarian language,
finally made known our wants; and money
secured them. One of the two rooms which made
up the interior of the cottage was vacated
for us, and, after it had been aired and swept, and
with Fenn-Brook's blankets to eke out, we found
ourselves fairly comfortable.
Two nights and a day were to be spent there;
and for two nights and a day we lived the lives of
Balkan peasants, sleeping, curled in blankets, on
the wooden floor, eating rice and mutton from the
common bowl, part and parcel of the aged pa-
triarch's numerous family. Fenn-Brook, true to
his nature, put aside the cares of state and learned
how to milk the family cow; he even taught the
3°9


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
children a very rudimentary form of cricket. But
the hours dragged most miserably for both of us.
And glad enough were we to see the glorious sun
of the morning of the fifth.
Shortly after breakfast it was proposed to recon-
noiter. Fenn-Brook suggested that before going
we take the precaution of exchanging our clothes
for some of those which decorated the cottage
ceiling. It seemed to me a rather useless step, but
he would have his way, and soon we were jogging
down the path together on foot, two incon-
spicuous Bulgarian louts. But, before we went,
Fenn-Brook held a mysterious conversation with
our peasant host; and I saw two pieces of gold
change ownership.
Near the main road we left the path and plunged
into the bushes, up a steep incline. We came out
on the face of the hillside, well above the valley,
and cautiously made our way along it toward the
south, until we stood above the rocky ridge which
formed the northern boundary of the broad basin
over which the cloister stood guard. Then, slowly
and very carefully, we descended, creeping and
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FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
sliding from bush to bush, and reached a thicket
at the very point of the ridge; and there we pre-
pared to spend the day. At our feet, hardly
a stone's throw distant, ran the road. To the
south we could follow it, through the stems of the
thick bushes in which we lay hidden, up to the
cloister mound itself. In fact, although the thick
leaves shut off the fortress-like building, our
position permitted a good view of almost all the
winding approach to it. And to the north we
could see the road for a long distance, lying as a
white thread between the black walls of the
gorge through which it came crawling up the moun-
tains. Well beyond us, a half mile or so away,
we made out the figure of a man lounging by
the roadside, and every now and then caught the
flash of the sun upon his gun. The pickets were
in position, it seemed. But, provided we exercised
due caution, we were too far off to be seen easily.
We removed our cumbersome peasant coats.
Before spreading his on the ground, Fenn-Brook,
to my surprise, took from the voluminous pockets
two small round loaves of black bread and a bottle
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
of water, which he stowed away in a crack in the
rocks.
And so we waited for the coming of the con-
spirators.
They could hardly be expected to arrive before
noon, we calculated; for most of them, at least
those from Sofia, would naturally have spent the
night at Samakoff or Tresnitz, five or six hours
away. As a matter of fact, it was nearly two
o'clock before anyone more worthy of our atten-
tion than an occasional peasant, on foot or on his
donkey, passed our lookout place. In the mean-
time Fenn-Brook plied me with questions and
soon knew as fully and accurately the details of all
that had occurred as I myself. On one point he
was very tactful, and in my heart I thanked him
for it, setting him down as a man well bred through
and through. Never a twit nor suggestion passed his
lips that my interest in Miss Ewing's welfare was
anything more than the natural solicitude of a man
for a woman in trouble. But his very avoidance
of chaff showed me that he understood.
Nevertheless, Fenn-Brook's being there troubled
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FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
me. Miss Ewing had not bargained for the
presence of outside aid, and I dreaded the coming
of the moment when I should have to disclose the
fact that I had taken another man into my con-
fidence. And yet from the first moment of our
acquaintance Fenn-Brook had been so ready with
his help, so thoughtful and far-sighted, so willing to
overlook provocation, that I equally dreaded
proposing to keep him in the background. The
dilemma bothered me all the morning; and finally
I gave voice to my thoughts. He understood at
once.
"You imagine, do you, that Miss Ewing will
doubt my discretion? Well, Markham, let me
assure you that His Majesty's Service does not
presuppose my lying stretched out here in this
beastly sun all day; and so the Government will
never notice my failure to report what I learn by
doing so. Tell her that. Lie low! Here come
some of your friends!"
Two black spots appeared far down the road,
and slowly grew into men on horseback.
"The new regime is to go in for more schools,
3i3


FENN-BROOK TAKES A HAND
time. But a remark to that effect was drowned by
his low exclamation:
"Shevutkin! By all that's ridiculous, Shevutkin:
Do you remember how loftily he denied any
knowledge of your Bulgarian Agent's whereabouts,
that night at the Club? His diplomatic career
will bear watching, will Shevutkin's. He has the
Devil's own knack for lying. Who is the dis-
reputable old chap with him, I wonder."
I knew. The appearance of that old beggar on
the Galata Bridge had been too deeply stamped
upon my memory for me lightly to forget him.
And now he had come all the way from Con-
stantinople in the same disguise!
"Godovi? You don't mean to tell me that that
dirty beggar is Prince Godovi ?" cried Fenn-Brook,
almost aloud, in answer to my whisper. "Why,
man! — Markham, accept my gratitude. I expect
to spend my life in the Diplomatic Service, you
know; but I shall never again see such a sight as
Godovi in that get-up. Miss Ewing will do well
not to put too much trust in me, after all. This
is no silly Balkan plot."
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
The Russian Ambassador was among the last
arrivals, and the sun was already touching the
mountain tops as he went by. The darkness fell
rapidly; and with its coming my impatience
threatened to master prudence. I proposed to
crawl down to the road. But Fenn-Brook stopped
me shortly.
"Not until the Ewings are actually there," he
declared firmly. "There is no hurry. These
people will transact no business until they have
dined. You are not here to spy upon their table
manners, are you? If you are, I am sorry for you,"
he added, with a shudder at the picture.
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
windows. Who would have supposed Fenn-
Brook such a genius?
He remained in the background while the
Ewings and I exchanged whispered greetings.
I told them in a few short words of the only
feasible plan — the only real plan at all, for that
matter — which had suggested itself. They dis-
mounted and, readily accepting Fenn-Brook in
his new capacity, passed their reins to him. Then
the three of us cautiously approached the monas-
tery, leaving the Consul standing at the roadside.
For the greater part the building was in dark-
ness, though here and there, through the black
window slits, we could see the faint twinkle of
solitary candles. But four of the windows, situated
in a row near the entrance, were ablaze with light.
Mr. Ewing, who had been there often enough to
know the plan of the monastery, told me that these
opened into a great hall, an enormous room which
ran the depth of the building. It was there, then,
that the conspirators were gathered, in all probabil-
ity still refreshing themselves. The room lay, so
nearly as I could judge, next the little reception
3i8


THE DAHLIA'S WORK IS DONE
chamber where I had had that memorable inter-
view with the quick-eyed old Abbot. I devoutly
prayed that Fenn-Brook was right about the door
being open. Otherwise we had clearly come for
naught; for, close to the entrance, the ground
gave quickly and the walls of the monastery were
but sheer continuations of a perpendicular out-
cropping of the rock, impossible to climb.
Suddenly, as we tiptoed toward the mound, Miss
Ewing convulsively clutched my arm and pointed
ahead. My hair rose on end at the sight of the
moving black objects which appeared before us.
Then I remembered, and quieted her fears. They
were only some of the conspirators' horses which
had been picketed along the road near the begin-
ning of the path. A new dread seized us. It
might be that someone had been left to watch
the horses. We halted and strained through the
darkness for the figure of a man. But we could
neither see nor hear anything beyond the black
shadows of the animals quietly grazing on the
roadside grasses.
We reached the path, a mere lightening of the
3'9


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
and my heart was in my throat as I gradually
tested the first one with my weight. It held, with-
out even the suspicion of a groan; and so did the
next, and the next.
Now we were on the floor of the balcony itself
— past the door by which, on my former visit,
I had entered the monastery — and now, at last,
at the edge of the first beam of light.
The sill of the window was low, too low for us
to crawl by in the shadow. We were forced to be
content, Miss Ewing and I, with bending over
and looking cautiously in from one side. There
was room for no more than two there at the most;
and Mr. Ewing remained in the shadow on watch.
Within was a long table set thick with candela-
bra. At the further end, still in his uncouth
beggar garments, sat Prince Godovi, the Russian
Ambassador to Turkey. The Abbot was at his
left; at his right, Zemoff; and round about were
all the villain-hearted, the dreamers, the known
revolutionaries, whom we had seen pass the rock
that day. They had evidently dined in company
and were but just now finished, for the bare
322


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"Your Majesty, for so I may now call you,
you will understand — and you, Messieurs," he
added, sweeping the conspirators with a gesture
of his arm—"that a revolution such as this
requires funds. My Imperial Master is pleased
to advance you those funds — to present them
to you. But in return he requires that you
take formal oath, before these your subjects, to
what you have already promised me in private.
I am delegated to receive that oath. Are you
ready to swear solemnly that within one month
after your formal acknowledgment as King, you
will become involved in a war with Turkey?"
The room was in an uproar in an instant.
Many of his hearers were evidently totally unpre-
pared for any such development, and these sprang
one and all to their feet with an angry roar of
opposition. But the Ambassador had counted
well. His adherents, bought or persuaded,
were in a strong majority, and drowned, with
still louder huzzas, the protesting voices. Go-
dovi's own attitude did still more. Standing
there with one arm raised, he mutely commanded
326


THE DAHLIA'S WORK IS DONE
silence; and slowly, like beaten hounds, they
obeyed.
"Some of you forget, Messieurs," he said, gently,
as the shouts died away, "that this Kingdom, to
exist at all, must be entire; that there must be no
more downtrodden people of your race in Mace-
donia; that there must be no more petty bickerings
and rivalry with Greece, with Servia; that Bulgaria,
and only Bulgaria, must be dominant throughout
the Balkans. And for that, the Sultan's power
must be the first to be broken."
Before the outburst could come again, he had
turned to Zemoff.
"You are ready to take that oath?"
And poor Miss Ewing heard the pigmy swear to
fight the giant; heard sworn away all hope of
prosperity for the country which she so loved.
"Come," she whispered, in a dull, pained voice.
"I have had enough."
I put my hand on her shoulder.
"Not yet. I beg of you. We must hear it all."
The Ambassador was again on his feet, now
telling of the final plans.
327


THE DAHLIA'S WORK IS DONE
brought it within our reach. Almost at the window
itself the Ambassador was standing, with his back
to us, his head thrown into black silhouette by the
candles which he held before him. Zemoff had
remained near the door. The other man was
doing the talking.
"But Saturday, your Excellency," he was
saying hurriedly, "is out of the question. That
is the day of the military review, and Prince
Ferdinand will appear only in the midst of his
staff. We could not get at him. The bomb
must be sure and, to be sure, we must throw it
while he is driv"
It was only the low moan of a heart-sick girl
that fell upon their ears; but it was enough. The
three men wheeled sharply about, and then the
stranger, catching our black forms with his eye,
bounded, with an oath, straight through the
window.
I sprang in front of Miss Ewing, to protect her.
But another was quicker than I. A dark
shadow rose suddenly from the steps, stretched
out its arms, and the man went crashing against
329


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
the balcony railing and over it to the stone pave-
ment below.
"Quick! For God's sake, quick! You will
find the horses at the foot of the path," cried Fenn-
Brook's voice.
I seized Miss E wing's hand and dashed with her
down the steps and through the entrance. Where
her father had disappeared to I did not know nor
stop to consider; nor where we picked him up
again. But, as we stumbled blindly down the hill,
heedless of path and steps, he joined us. Behind
us there arose a great clamor. Lights flashed in all
the nearer windows. And above the turmoil I
was dimly conscious that Fenn-Brook, covering
our flight, had swung the heavy door to, and was
vainly trying to jam the latch. Then, in the
distance, I heard his feet running, too, and then
others after him.
We found our horses, all four, tied to some
bushes at the path's end. Picking up Miss Ewing,
I threw her, rather than lifted her, into the saddle.
The reins by which the animals were tethered
came loose almost at the touch. Fenn-Brook,
330


THE DAHLIA'S WORK IS DONE
apparently, had done the clever thing here as else-
where; securing them by mere wisps of twigs.
He, himself, was still a hundred yards behind us,
and I could not leave him. I bade the Ewings
go, go hard, and before the words were out of my
mouth the two had been swallowed by the dark-
ness; from down the road there came the tre-
mendous clatter of their horses' hoofs. Fenn-
Brook dashed up to me, and without stopping,
vaulted into his saddle, gathering the reins from
my waiting hand as he did so.
"I say, it was a narrow squeak," he panted.
"but we 're all safe, now. I 'll explain later.
Come!"
His claim that all was safe seemed at least pre-
mature; for though we could not see our pursuers,
the shouts and curses from the hillside showed
they were only too close upon our heels. To-
gether we urged our horses into a run and dashed
down the road past the tethered animals of the
conspirators. And as we went, Fenn-Brook
laughed, breathlessly.
"They 'll have some dirty falls, I think" he
33i


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
called over his shoulder. "I 've cut the girths on
every blessed nag of them — and tethered them
tighter, too," he added, with a chuckle.
It was foresight, that! And, judging from the
angry turmoil that arose behind us, the ruse had
succeeded. Every second was bringing us farther
and farther away; and the pursuit had halted at
their animals.
Not quite. We heard in the distance the gallop-
ing feet of a single horse.
We had covered now the open stretch that lay
between the cloister and the mouth of the gorge;
we had passed the rock from which, that afternoon,
we had watched the arriving conspirators; and
reached the path to the peasant's cottage. Dash-
ing by a clump of trees through which the road cut,
Fenn-Brook shouted something in Bulgarian and
was answered by the sudden emerging of a black
figure from among the shadows. Again he
chuckled.
"There is only one man near us," he announced,
drawing rein. "If you have no objection, Mark-
ham, I think I 'll wait and see what happens. Go
332


THE DAHLIA'S WORK IS DONE
on and overtake the Ewings. I will join you
shortly. Go. I insist. You are on duty, you
know, while I am only larking it."
Doubtfully I did as he requested, and little by
little pulled up on my fleeing companions.
Strangely enough, the pursuit stopped short. In
the silence that followed, the Ewings and I might
well have been the only three human beings
within a radius of miles. Then came the faint
report of a single pistol shot.
As soon as I was within hearing distance of my
companions I shouted, to make known my
identity, and father and daughter reined in their
horses. Knowing nothing of Fenn-Brook's prox-
imity, they had understood nothing of what was
going on behind them; and they were no more
frightened by the pursuit than amazed by the
sudden succor that had come so unexpectedly.
But in broken, breathless words, I explained as
much as I could of the situation.
"Do you mean to say that Mr. Fenn-Brook is
behind us there alone? Alone with those awful
men?" demanded Miss Ewing.
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THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
"I do not think you need worry," I answered.
"If ever a man could take care of himself,
Fenn-Brook can. I have known none of his
plans. But he had some definite object in
waiting."
Miss Ewing wheeled her horse about.
"Come," she ordered.
We retraced our steps slowly and cautiously.
But before we had gone any distance the sound of
a cantering horse fell upon our ears, and then,
suddenly, the black walls of the gorge resounded
with the words of "Auld Lang Syne." We stopped,
wondered, and then, as the incongruity of words
and setting struck home, burst into hysterical
laughter. Fenn-Brook's form loomed ud in the
darkness.
"Did you recognize it?" he asked. "I ima-
gined you would. I can't sing a bit, you know;
but I thought you would know that an English-
man was coming."
We turned our horses round once more and gal-
loped steadily on in the direction of Samakoff. Half
an hour passed before we again brought them to
334


THE DAHLIA'S WORK IS DONE
a walk. Fenn-Brook had something to tell us;
and did it in his customary manner.
"Reliable peasant, that," said he, turning to me.
"To think of an ignorant clodhopper here in the
Balkans upsetting the plans of the Czar of Russia!
They must find another candidate for King, I
fear."
With one accord we brought our horses to a
standstill.
"Another candidate! What has?"
"It was this way, you see," returned the Consul.
"I was afraid that there might be some cutting up
before we were clear of that cloister, you know;
and, before Markham and I left the cottage, I
arranged to have our host come down to the road
and watch out for us. If there seemed to be any-
thing like a pursuit, he was to let the first four
horses go by and then stretch a rope across the
road. As it happened, only one man was able to
follow us; but that man was Zemoff himself. And
by gad, Markham, you should have seen the
cropper that rope gave him; horse and rider all
mixed up. The horse's forelegs were both broken;
335


THE STEM OF THE CRIMSON DAHLIA
and so was ZemofFs neck. I put the poor beast
out of his misery — you may have heard the shot
— and propped ZemofFs body up against him in
the middle of the road. And to think, by Jove,
that I only gave that peasant forty francs. It was
worth a thousand."
336


CHAPTER XXI
THE FRUIT OF THE FLOWER
A T a late hour that night, or rather at a very
early hour in the morning, Mr. Ewing,
Fenn-Brook and I were seated in Fenn-Brook's
room at a very decent little inn in Samakoff. Miss
Ewing, utterly worn out with misery, had gone to
bed directly upon our arrival. But too much of
importance had happened that evening for us men
to think of rest. Fenn-Brook was doing the talk-
ing. He held in his hand the two clippings from
the Times.
"I think this settles it," he said slowly between
sips from a glass of wine. "If Russia goes on
with her schemes at all, after this fiasco, she will
have to find some other means of drawing Tur-
key's troops away from the Asiatic frontier. You
cannot find a Zemoff everywhere, you know, and,
even if they should dare try again, it would take
337


THE FRUIT OF THE FLOWER
his daughter and me standing at the window.
She kept her eyes obstinately fixed upon the Con-
sul's receding figure, until it had become a mere
speck in the distance.
She breathed a long, regretful sigh. Then,
hardly turning: "So that dream is over," she
murmured. "Mr. Markham, I cannot thank you
for what you have done. Not with words. Do
you — what must you think of me?"
The moment I had longed for had arrived.
My heart began to beat most ominously.
"I think only one thing of you, Miss Ewing,"
I returned, unsteadily, with my head bent close
to hers. "And that thing I have thought ever
since I first laid eyes upon you. I want no thanks.
I deserve none. If I have been of service, it has
been from selfish motives; for your happiness is
my happiness. I want no thanks. I want you —
you, yourself; and I shall not be content with less."
After one quick, half-frightened look, she
turned to the window again. Her finger took to
executing slowly indiscriminate little figures upon
the glass.
34i