CHAPTER XXXIV. RIFLE PRACTICE

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_ Adele was herself in a very few minutes. My cousin considerately slipped out of the room. Directly she opened her eyes and found me kneeling by her side, her color became more natural.

"Jim," she murmured, "how did you do it? Tell me how it is that you are alive."

"A very simple matter," I answered. "I learned at Lenox all that I came to America to find out. I wanted to return to England without creating suspicion, so I hired a substitute to continue my trip."

"And he was killed?" she exclaimed.

"Yes!" I answered. "I insured his life, and I presume he knew his risks. In any case, the life of one man was a small thing compared with--you know what."

She looked into my face, and there was wonder in her eyes.

"How you have changed, Jim," she whispered. "It is you, isn't it? I can scarcely believe it. Can the months really write their lines so deeply?"

"Months!" I answered. "I have passed into a different generation, Adele. It seems to me that my memory stops at a night a few months ago, at the Hotel Francais. The things which happened before that seem to have happened to a different man."

"Could you play cricket now--or shoot partridges?"

"God knows!" I answered. "This thing has swallowed me up. The only thing that I do know is that I must go on to the end."

She sighed.

"And what is to become of me?" she asked.

I touched her lips with mine--and all the passion and joy of another sort of life warmed my blood once more.

"Wait only a few months, dear," I answered confidently, "and I will teach you."

Hope and incredulity struggled together in her face.

"You believe," she exclaimed, "that you will succeed?"

"Why not?" I answered. "I am counted dead. Could you yourself recognize me?"

She shook her head doubtfully.

"Your face itself is so changed," she answered. "My poor Jim, you are a very different person from the good-looking boy whose life seemed to depend upon catching that ball at Lord's. I think that you must have suffered a great deal."

"I have bought experience and the knowledge of life," I said grimly, "and I suppose I have paid a pretty stiff price for it."

I hesitated.

"Are you strong enough, Adele," I asked, "for another shock?"

"I have lost the capacity for surprise," she answered. "Try me!"

"The real name of the man who is passing as my uncle--is Leslie Guest!"

She scarcely justified her last assertion, for her eyes were full of wonder, and she drew a little away from me as though in fear.

"Leslie Guest! The man who died at Saxby!"

"He did not die," I answered. "It was a case of suspended animation. When I read his letter to me, and when I saw you in the morning, I believed him dead. So did all the others. It was in the middle of the next night that the nurse discovered that he was alive! We sent for the doctor, and by the next morning he was able to speak. It was then that we determined to make use of what had happened."

"I see," she murmured. "That is why you changed the place of burial."

I nodded.

"Guest planned the whole thing himself," I said. "It was easily arranged. The curious part of it all is that he seems to have got the poison out of his system entirely now!"

She looked at me a little breathlessly.

"You are really wonderful people, both of you," she said.

"We have been very fortunate," I answered.

"And why," she asked, "are you dressed like a somewhat seedy-looking foreigner?"

"I am the head-waiter at the Cafe Suisse," I answered.

"Where is that?"

"In Soho! Guest--my uncle--is the proprietor."

"Listen, Jim!" she said. "Do not tell me why you are there, or what you are doing. I suppose I ought to be working on the other side--but I shall not. What I was going to do for the sake of you dead, I shall do now for the sake of you living. You and I are allies!"

"Pour la vie!" I answered, kissing her fingers; "you see even Nagaski is becoming reconciled to me."

She smiled and patted his head.

"At any rate," she said, "but for him I should not have found you! I wonder--"

I answered her unspoken question.

"I should not have come out," I told her. "To tell you the truth, Adele, I am a different man now from what I was half an hour ago. I had forgotten that I was still a live being, and that the world was, after all, a beautiful place. I think I had forgotten that there was such a person as Hardross Courage. The absorption of these days, when one has to remember, even with every tick of the clock, that the slightest carelessness, the slightest slip, means certain death--well, it lays hold of you. No wonder the lines are there, dear!"

"Some day," she whispered, "I will smooth them all away for you! ..."

Gilbert came in a few minutes later.

"I am sorry to disturb you," he said, "but it is time I was off."

He glanced at Adele.

"We have no secrets," I declared quickly.

He smiled.

"Well," he said, "I have an appointment with the Foreign Secretary at three o'clock this afternoon. Where can I see you afterwards?"

I hesitated. That was rather a difficult question to answer.

"I don't want to come here too often," I answered. "Do you mind sitting up a little later than usual tonight?"

"Of course not," he answered gravely.

"Then let me come to your club about a quarter to one," I said. "You can see me in the strangers' room."

Adele rose and gave me her hand.

"I too, must go," she said. "I may write to you here--if I do I shall address the envelope to Sir Gilbert. Good-bye!"

I kissed her fingers, and she drew away from me a little shyly. My cousin saw her to the door, and in less than half an hour I was in my shiny dress coat, on duty for luncheon at the Cafe Suisse.

There were the usual crowd of people there, but no one whom I recognized particularly, until the stout lady who had talked to me the night before came in. I showed her to a table, and she talked to me graciously in German. She had discarded her black sailor hat, and had the appearance of being dressed in her best clothes.

"You see to-day I am alone," she remarked, drawing off her gloves and revealing two large but well-shaped hands, the fingers of which were laden with rings.

"You must take good care of me--so! And I am hungry--very hungry!"

It was a table d'hote luncheon for eighteen-pence, and she ate everything that was set before her, and frequently demanded second helpings. All the time she talked to me, sometimes in German, sometimes in broken English. She seemed quite uneasy when I was not all the time by her side.

"My good man," she told me, "has gone away for two--three days. I am lonely, so I eat more! Why do you smile, Herr Schmidt?"

I shook my head.

"I know what you think," she continued, her black eyes upraised to mine. "You think that after all I am not so very lonely. Perhaps you are right. My good man he is much older than I. Sometimes he is very tiresome."

I murmured my sympathy. Just at that moment, Guest entered and passed through to the little office, all smiles and bows--the typical restaurateur. Madame eyed him keenly.

"It is your uncle, the new proprietor, is it not?" she asked.

I nodded, and left her on the pretext of a summons from another table. Something in Guest's look had told me that he wished to speak to me. He was taking off his overcoat when I entered the office.

"Be careful of that woman," he whispered in my ear. "She is dangerous."

I nodded.

"She is Hirsch's wife," I remarked.

"She passes as such, I know," he answered. "I have come across her once or twice in my time. She is cleverer than she seems, and she is dangerous. Any news?"

"We have a fresh ally," I answered. "She goes to Paris this afternoon."

"Miss Van Hoyt?" he exclaimed.

"Yes!"

He glanced at a calendar.

"Good luck to her!" he answered. "We will talk later. Go back into the restaurant."

I obeyed him, and almost immediately Madame called me to her side.

"I have a message for you," she whispered in my ear.

"You are to be at Max Sonneberg's rifle gallery at four o'clock this afternoon."

"From your husband?" I asked.

"So! You will be there?"

"Certainly! Where is it?" I asked.

"18, Old Compton Street," she answered. "Afterwards--"

She hesitated. I stood before her in an attitude of respectful attention.

"You like to come and drink a glass of beer with me?" she asked. "I live close there."

She was smiling at me with placid amicability. I was a little taken aback and hesitated.

"You come," she whispered persuasively. "No. 36, over the tailor's shop. You will find it easily. Afterwards I come here to dine! So?"

I was on the horns of a dilemma, for while my acceptance of her invitation might land me in a somewhat embarrassing position, I was still anxious to know exactly what her reasons were for asking me. She leaned a little closer towards me. Her black eyes were very bright and sparkling.

"I expect you," she declared. "So!"

I bowed.

"Thank you very much," I said, "I will come!"

She paid her bill and departed. I opened the door for her myself, and she whispered something in my ear as she went out. Karl, who had been watching us curiously, came up to me a few moments later.

"You know who she is?" he asked.

"Hirsch's wife," I answered, nodding.

"You had better be careful," he said slowly. "Hirsch is not a safe man to play tricks with."

I told Guest what had passed. He agreed with me that it was an embarrassing position, but he was insistent that I should go.

"One cannot tell," he remarked. "Even the cleverest women have their interludes. I rather fancy, though, that this time the lady has something more in her mind."

At four o'clock I presented myself at the door of an entry at the address which had been given me. An untidy-looking girl pointed out to me some stairs, over which was a hand pointing downwards, and a notice--

"MAX SONNEBERG'S RIFLE RANGE."

I descended the stairs, and found myself in a sort of cellar with two tubelike arrangements, down one of which a young man was shooting. Mr. Sonneberg rose slowly from a chair and came towards me.

"Paul Schmidt, is it not?" he asked.

I nodded.

"I was told to come here at four o'clock," I said.

"Quite right. Now tell me, what is this?" he asked, taking from a seat near and placing in my hand a weapon, similar to the one with which the boy was shooting.

I handled it curiously.

"It is a service rifle, reduced size," I remarked.

He nodded.

"Let me see you load it!" he directed, pointing to a box of cartridges.

I obeyed him without hesitation. He pointed to the unoccupied tube.

"Shoot!" he directed.

The tube was an unusually long one, and the bull's-eye rather small, but I fired six shots, and each time the bell rang. Mr. Sonneberg made a note in a book which he had taken from his pocket.

"Very good," he declared, "You have passed first class. You shall have your rifle to-night, and cartridges. Keep them in a safe place, and--remember!"

He pressed a cigar upon me, and patted me on the back.

"There are some who come here," he declared, "and I find it very hard to believe that they have ever seen a rifle before. With you it is different. You will shoot straight, my young friend. A life for every cartridge, eh?"

"I was always fond of shooting!" I told him.

"Come again, my young friend," he said cordially, "and show some of these others how a young German should shoot! You do not need practice, but it does me good to see a man hold a rifle as you do! So!"

I left the shooting gallery with flying colors. I was not so sure of my next appointment. _

Read next: CHAPTER XXXV. "HIRSCH'S WIFE"

Read previous: CHAPTER XXXIII. A REUNION OF HEARTS

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