"If you forgive us and accept back your property, it is all that we ask.
I am ashamed, and yet at the same time gratified, that you, an Imperial Princess, should offer me your hand, knowing who and what I am."
"Whatever you may be, Mr. Redmayne," she said, "you have shown yourself my friend."
"And I am your friend; I'll stand your friend, Princess, in whatever service you may command me," declared the keen-eyed old man, who was acknowledged by the Continental police to be one of the cleverest criminals in the length and breadth of Europe. "We have discovered that you are alone here; but remember that you are not friendless. We are your friends, even though the world would call us by a very ugly name--a gang of thieves."
"I can only thank you," she sighed. "You are extremely good to speak like this. It is true that misfortune has fallen upon me, and being friendless, it is rea.s.suring to know that I have at least two persons in Paris ready to perform any service I require. Mr. Bourne once rendered me a very great service, but refused to accept any reward." And she added, laughing, "He has already explained the reason of his hurried departure from Treysa."
"Our departures are often hurried ones, your Highness," he said. "Had we not discovered that the jewels were yours, we should in an hour have dispersed, one to England, one to Germany, and one to Amsterdam. But in order to discover you we remained here, and risked being recognised by the police, who know me, and are aware of my profession. To-morrow we leave Paris, for already Hamard's agents, suspecting me of the theft, are searching everywhere to discover me."
"But you must not leave before I make you some reward," she said.
"Where are the jewels?"
"In that closed cab. Can you see it away yonder?" and he pointed to the lights of a vehicle standing some distance up the street. "Kinder, one of our friends, has it with him. Shall we get into the cab and drive away? Then I will restore the bag to you, and if I may advise your Highness, I would deposit it in the Credit Lyonnais to-morrow. It is not safe for a woman alone to carry about such articles of great value.
There are certain people in Paris who would not hesitate to take your life for half the sum they represent."
"Thank you for your advice, Mr. Redmayne," she said. "I will most certainly take it."
"Will your Highness walk to the cab with me?" Bourne asked, after he had paid the waiter. "You are not afraid to trust yourself with us?" he added.
"Not at all," she laughed. "Are you not my friends?" And she rose and walked along the street to where the cab was in waiting. Within the vehicle was a man whom he introduced to her as Mr. Kinder, and when all four were seated within, Bourne beside her and Redmayne opposite her, the elder man took the precious bag from Kinder's hand and gave it to her, saying,--
"We beg of your Highness to accept this, with our most humble apologies.
You may open it and look within. You will not, I think, find anything missing," he added.
She took the dressing-bag, and opening it, found within it the cheap leather bag she had brought from Treysa. A glance inside showed her that the jewels were still there, although there were so many that she, of course, did not count them.
For a few moments she remained in silence; then thanking the two for their generosity, she said,--
"I cannot accept their return without giving you some reward, Mr.
Redmayne. I am, unfortunately, without very much money, but I desire you to accept these--if they are really worth your acceptance," and taking from the bag a magnificent pair of diamond earrings she gave them into his hand. "You, no doubt, can turn them into money," she added.
The old fellow, usually so cool and imperturbable, became at once confused.
"Really, Princess," he declared, "we could not think of accepting these.
You, perhaps, do not realise that they are worth at least seven hundred pounds."
"No; I have no idea of their value. I only command you to accept them as a slight acknowledgment of my heartfelt grat.i.tude."
"But--"
"There are no buts. Place them in your pocket, and say nothing further."
A silence again fell between them, while the cab rolled along the asphalte of the boulevard.
Suddenly Bourne said,--
"Princess, you cannot know what a weight of anxiety your generous gift has lifted off our minds. Roddy will not tell you, but it is right that you should know. The fact is that at this moment we are all three almost penniless--without the means of escape from Paris. The money we shall get for those diamonds will enable us to get away from here in safety."
She turned and peered into his face, lit by the uncertain light of the street lamps. In his countenance she saw a deep, earnest look.
"Then the truth is that without money to provide means of escape you have even sacrificed your chances of liberty, in order to return my jewels to me!" she exclaimed, for the first time realising the true position.
He made no response; his silence was an affirmative. Kinder, who had spoken no word, sat looking at her, entirely absorbed by her grace and beauty.
"Well," she exclaimed at last, "I wonder if you would all three do me another small favour?"
"We shall be only too delighted," was Bourne's quick reply. "Only please understand, your Highness, that we accept these earrings out of pure necessity. If we were not so sorely in need of money, we should most certainly refuse."
"Do not let us mention them again," she said quickly. "Listen. The fact is this. I have very little ready money, and do not wish at this moment to reveal my whereabouts by applying to my lawyers in Vienna or in Treysa. Therefore it will be best to sell some of my jewellery--say one thousand pounds' worth. Could you arrange this for me?"
"Certainly," Roddy replied, "with the greatest pleasure. For that single row diamond necklet we could get from a thousand to twelve hundred pounds--if that amount is sufficient."
She reopened the bag, and after searching in the fickle light shed by the street lamps she at length pulled out the necklet in question--one of the least valuable of the heap of jewels that had been restored to her in so curious and romantic a manner.
The old jewel thief took it, weighed it in his hand, and examined it critically under the feeble light. He had already valued it on the day when he had secured it. It was worth in the market about four thousand pounds, but in the secret channel where he would sell it he would not obtain more than twelve hundred for it, as, whatever he said, the purchaser would still believe it to be stolen property, and would therefore have the stones recut and reset.
"You might try Pere Perrin," Guy remarked. "It would be quicker to take it to him than to send it to Amsterdam or Leyden."
"Or why not old Lestocard, in Brussels? He always gives decent prices, and is as safe as anybody," suggested Kinder.
"Is time of great importance to your Highness?" asked the head of the a.s.sociation, speaking with his decidedly c.o.c.kney tw.a.n.g.
"A week or ten days--not longer," she replied.
"Then we will try Pere Perrin to-morrow, and let you know the result.
Of course, I shall not tell him whose property it is. He will believe that we have obtained it in the ordinary way of our profession. Perrin is an old Jew who lives over at Batignolles, and who asks no questions.
The stuff he buys goes to Russia or to Italy."
"Very well. I leave it to you to do your best for me, Mr. Redmayne,"
was her reply. "I put my trust in you implicitly."
"Your Imperial Highness is one of the few persons--beyond our own friends here--who do. To most people Roddy Redmayne is a man not to be trusted, even as far as you can see him!" and he grinned, adding, "But here we are at the Pont d'Austerlitz. Harry and I will descend, and you, Bourne, will accompany the Princess to her hotel."
Then he shouted an order to the man to stop, and after again receiving her Highness's warmest thanks, the expert thief and his companion alighted, and, bowing to her, disappeared.
When the cab moved on again towards the Place de la Bastille, she turned to the Englishman beside her, saying--
"I owe all this to you, Mr. Bourne, and I a.s.sure you I feel most deeply grateful. One day I hope I may be of some service to you, if," and she paused and looked at him--"well, if only to secure your withdrawal from a criminal life."
"Ah, Princess," he sighed wistfully, "if I only could see my way clear to live honestly! But to do so requires money, money--and I have none.
The gentlemanly dress which you see me wearing is only an imposture and a fraud--like all my life, alas! nowadays."
She realised that this man, a gentleman by birth, was eager to extricate himself from the low position into which he had, by force of adverse circ.u.mstances, fallen. He was a cosmopolitan of cosmopolitans, a quiet, slow-speaking, slightly built, high-browed, genial-souled man, with his slight, dark moustache, shrewd dark eyes, and a mouth that had humour smiling at the corners; a man of middle height, his dark hair showing the first sign of changing early to grey, and a countenance bitten and scarred by all the winds and suns of the round globe; a wise and quiet man, able to keep his own counsel, able to get his own end with few words, and yet unable to shape his own destiny; a marvellous impostor, the friend of men and women of the _haut monde_, who all thought him a gentleman, and never for one instant suspected his true occupation.
Such was the man who had once risked his life for hers, the man who had now returned her stolen jewels to her, and who was at that moment seated at her side escorting her to her hotel on terms of intimate friendship.
She thought deeply over his bitter words of regret that he was what he was. Could she a.s.sist him, she wondered. But how?