Pimpernel and Rosemary

And suddenly through the paint and the grime a look of almost inhuman cruelty distorted his face: the thin lips drew back tight above the red gums, and the sharp teeth gleamed white like those of a wolf. It was the recollection of a note which Naniescu had scribbled at his dictation, and which he, Number Ten, had thrust into the hand of the dead chauffeur for the perusal of an obstinate woman, that brought that wolf-like look into his face. His eyes almost disappeared beneath the strand of false eyebrows and the thick layers of paint upon the lids, and his hands opened out and were clutched again like the talons of a bird of prey.

For the space of a second or two Number Ten looked hideous. De Kervoisin, who was watching him, was conscious of an uncomfortable shudder: Naniescu fortunately was looking another way, and the whole episode was over in a moment; the next, Number Ten was once more leaning back in his chair, looking weary, grimy and ill-tempered, but there was nothing supernatural about him, except perhaps his amazing change from one personality to another.

"How did you get back here?" Kervoisin asked after a moment's pause.

I have a car which our friend the general has placed at my disposal, with a soldier-driver. I ordered him to follow me to within half a kilometre of Kis-Imre."

"No one stopped you?"

"No one."

"I suppose you got to Kis-Imre before anyone was astir?"

"I won't say that. The ladies at the château were astir."

"And they saw you?"

"No. I had reached my own car, and was on the point of driving off when I saw them coming through the gates of the château."

"You would not have liked them to see you, I imagine," Naniescu put in with a chuckle.

"They wouldn't have known me," Number Ten retorted quietly.

"Heu! heu!" the general rejoined with a shrug. "There are certain eyes that are reported to be very sharp."

"Anyway," Number Ten broke in coolly, "no one saw me except an oaf from the village, so why discuss the point?"

And strangely enough General Naniescu, usually so dictatorial and so arrogant, did not seem to resent the gruffness of this man who was in his pay. On the contrary, he laughed good-humouredly and rested his fat hand with a gesture of almost affection on the shoulder of the spy.

"Ah, ces chers 'Anglais!" he sighed fatuously whilst de Kervoisin turned quite politely to Number Ten with the bland question: "And what is your next move, my dear friend?"

"To get those articles out of the fair Uno," Naniescu interposed hurriedly before the other had time to reply. "That point must not be lost sight of."

"I am not likely to lose sight of it," the other riposted dryly, "seeing that I am to get ten thousand pounds sterling for them. I suppose you think they are worth it?" he added, turning with his habitual sneer to Naniescu.

"I think," the general replied slowly, "that with the arrest of Philip Imrey and Anna Heves, which, when it becomes known, will deter other young fools from playing the same game—with that, I say, as a make-weight, I think the articles will be worth the money—to my Government and to me."

"Well," Number Ten rejoined coolly, "I shouldn't have done your dirty work for less."

And Naniescu once more gave a fatuous sigh and murmured:

"Ils sont impayables, ces Anglais!" whilst de Kervoisin smiled as a philosopher smiles on follies and stupidities with which he has no concern. Then he asked Number Ten: "And when do you return to civilization, my friend-to decent clothes and a bath?"

"At once," the other replied, "unless I am wanted for something else."

"No, no, my dear man," the general rejoined, with perfect affability. "I am quite content to leave everything in your hands."

"And when do you want those articles?"

"Shall we say within the week?

"You shall have them," Number Ten said coolly as he rose from his chair. He nodded to Kervoisin, who responded cordially: "A bientôt, mon ami!" Then he turned to go; but already Naniescu was on his feet.

"I'll escort you," he said hospitably, "in case you meet anyone on the stairs. In your present get-up," he added with his oily, guttural laugh, "it might be awkward."

"Thank you," the other assented coolly, and, gathering up the dirty old military coat, he strode to the door. Naniescu was already there, holding it open for him.

"You will stay and have lunch with M. de Kervoisin and me, I hope," he said.

"I think not, thank you," the other replied.

"Ah! You are going to Hódmezö, perhaps-or to Kis-Imre?"

And Number Ten replied, with his habitual curtness:

"That is my affair."

De Kervoisin, who still sat smoking, chuckled at this. A scene such as this was part of a philosopher's enjoyment. Naniescu threw him a look, and shrugged his shoulders. De Kervoisin could almost hear him reiterating his stock phrase: "Ils sont impayables, ces Anglais!"