Chapter 14: The Mysterious Mr. Smith

The distinguished company at the chalet had already gathered on the veranda apparently to contemplate the flaming sunset when, separating from Thusis in the woods behind the barn, I sauntered into view with rod and creel.

Instantly I became a target for Teutonic eyes of the several sorts peculiar to the hunnish race, —cold disapproving eyes, narrow bad-tempered eyes, squinting eyes, gimlet eyes, pale pig-eyes, —all intent on my approach.

“Hello!” cried King Constantine in his loud, bluff way, “have you had any luck, O’Ryan?”

The fat Princess Pudelstoff began to pant cheerfully in anticipation of finny food:

“I hope you’ve caught some trout,” she said in a thick, good-natured voice which the rolls of fat on her neck rendered husky and indistinct. “I like to eat mine Meunière and Blaue-gesotten. I like ‘em breaded and fried in butter. I like plenty of melted butter.” She pried open the creel cover as I passed. “Where are the fish?” she asked with a gulp of disappointment.

“I’m sorry, Princess——”

“Droly!” she exclaimed in English, turning to General Count von Dungheim, “he ain’t caught a fish! And me smackin’ my lips like I was eatin’ onto a fat filet! Oh my God!”

Astonished to hear such east-side accents spurting from the lips of the Princess Pudelstoff, I politely explained that the stream was in flood, and that trout wouldn’t take hold in high water. In the midst of my apology Baron von Bummelzug uttered a disagreeable laugh and said something rude to Admiral Lauterlaus who stared at me insultingly as he replied: “Skill is not to be expected in a Yankee. Instead of a rod he should have used a net. That’s the way our peasants fish for trout.”

I turned red and looked hard at the Admiral. “There’s a net in the barn,” said I, “if you want to try your skill!” which infuriated that formidable sea-warrior whose ancestry was purely peasant. He glared at me angrily and his bushy eyebrows worked up and down like the features of a mechanical toy.

“I said our peasants fish with a net!” he began, a far, hollow roar audible in his voice like the sound of the sea in a big shell.

“I heard you,” said I. “You’re welcome to use the net in your own fashion. Gentlemen fish otherwise.”

I think everybody was astounded. Only the pretty Countess Manntrapp shot an amused glance at me.

The others were dreadfully shocked. As for the Admiral he got to his feet almost dazed with rage; but before he could expel the bellowing fury which was congesting his features I lost my own temper and walked over to him.

“Behave yourself!” I said sharply. “I tolerate no bad manners under my roof. And if you show me any further disrespect you’ll have to leave my house!”

I think he was too amazed to roar. King Ferdinand waddled over to him and plucked him by the arm, restraining him. King Constantine burst into a heavy laugh:

“Here, gentlemen! This will never do! It’s all a misunderstanding. No offense was intended, Mr. O’Ryan——”

“Monsieur Xenos,” said I, “it is difficult, I fancy, for a Prussian Admiral to avoid taking the offensive—except at sea.”

And I walked into the house amid the most profound and paralyzed silence that ever assailed my ears.

Smith, in the living-room, having heard it all, was doubled up with laughter, but I was in no mood for mirth.

“Did you hear what Admiral Lauterlaus said to me!” I demanded, still hot. “Did you hear what that Prussian had the impudence to say to me under my own roof?”

“Yes, and I heard what you said to him, Michael!” And off he went into another fit of laughter.

“You don’t know how funny it is,” he said. “They’ve all been conspiring and perspiring all day long shut up in Tino’s apartment with those two smelly Bolsheviks. And just when they’d come to some agreement about slicing up the world and ruling it among themselves, along you come and take all the joy out of life by sitting on a Prussian admiral!”

“I certainly shall put him out of the house if he’s impudent to me again,” said I, wrathfully. “And it will be tough on him if I do, because an avalanche has blocked the pass and we’re all sewed up here together!”

“What!” exclaimed Smith with lively interest.

“It’s a fact, Smith. The entire snow-field on the south shoulder of the Bec de l’Empereur let go about an hour since. Didn’t you hear it?”

“I heard what I took to be thunder. Do you mean we’re blocked from the outside world?”

“Completely.”

“We can’t dig out?”

“Who’s to dig?”

“Good business!” he said, plainly delighted by the news. “How long will it last?”

“Thusis says they’ll start digging from the other side, but that it may take weeks.”

“Thusis knows about this?”

“She was with me at the time,” said I, blushing.

He looked at me absently: “I wonder,” he mused, “what Thusis thinks about the situation now.”

“Our sudden isolation here?”

“Exactly.”

“She doesn’t seem to like it ... Tell me something, Smith?”

“What?”

“Do you know why Thusis and Clelia and Josephine Vannis and Raoul Despres are here?”

“I can guess,” he replied, coolly.

“They came here,” said I, “to nab Tino and that murderous ass, Ferdinand, and spirit them across the frontier into France.”

“I believe so,” he said in a serene but preoccupied voice.

“Now they can’t do it,” I added, “because the only way out of this valley is blocked.”

“Quite so.”

“Smith?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think of their doing such a thing?”

“It’s all right but they can’t get away with it.”

“Would you—help them?”

“They haven’t asked me.”

“Would you?” I persisted.

“Would you, Michael?”

“Well, if I do, the Swiss Government would confiscate my property. If Thusis and I succeeded in kidnapping this bunch of Kings, I’d lose this place.”

“And if you failed to bag your Kings,” remarked Smith, “the Swiss Government would still confiscate your estate and lock you up besides.”

“And if you went into this affair,” said I, “the Swiss would cancel your forestry contract.”

“That,” said he with a grin, “would be ruinous, wouldn’t it?”

“What are you, anyway, Smith?” I demanded bluntly.

“A Viking. What do you think I am?”

“An agent,” I replied darkly.

“Timber agent,” he nodded.

“Timber nothing. Much less a Viking. I’m on to you, Smith.”

“Do you think you are?”

“Well, do you wish to know what I believe you to be?”

“You probably have guessed. So don’t say it too loud, Michael. Besides, I have taken no pains to conceal my business from you.”

“I think you are an agent of the United States Secret Service,” said I. “And I think you learned, somehow or other, that this bunch of Kings was coming here to conspire. And I think you very cleverly picked me up in Berne with a view to being invited here so that you could watch their activities and keep your government informed. How near right am I?”

“You ought to know,” he retorted, laughing.

“Well then—if I do know—what are you going to do about this enterprise of Clelia and Thusis? Help them collar this royal gang and smuggle them across the frontier into France?”

He shook his head: “No, I can’t do that.”

“Your duties do not permit such amusements?”

“No. I am engaged to fulfill a definite duty. In fact I’m pledged to carry out a certain mission. It’s a matter of honor. I’m sorry.”

“It limits you?”

“It does.”

“Checks any adventurous or romantic inclination toward aiding Thusis and Clelia to nab Tino & Co.?”

“I’m afraid it does.”

“So you can’t do any kidnaping, Smith?”

He laughed. “Oh, as far as that goes, I may have to do some.”

“Kidnaping?”

“Possibly.”

“You’re a strange creature, Smith. And, speaking of strange creatures, who the devil is that Princess Pudelstoff? She talks English like an east-side Jewess.”

“She is.”

“W-what!!!”

“Certainly.”

“The Princess Pudelstoff!”

“Her name was Leah Puppsky. She’s the sister of Leo Puppsky, the Bolshevik envoy sent here with his confrere Isidore Wildkatz by Trotzky and Lenine to confer with Tino and Ferdie. She was once pretty—and she acted in an east-side theatre with Nazimova. Prince Pudelstoff was an attaché of the Russian Embassy at the time. He saw her act, fell in love, and married her, —of course with the Czar’s knowledge and consent. But why the Czar let him do it is one of those diplomatic mysteries which remain unfathomed. Some believe that Rasputin had a reason for approving such an alliance.” He shrugged.

“What a strange, fat, vulgar, good-natured woman,” said I. “And what a grotesque company! Can you beat it?—Bulgar and Bolsheviki, King, Queen, Countess, Baron, Admiral, all jumbled up in this little rest-house where I am trying to live in peace and privacy. And now comes an act of God called an avalanche!—and we’re all trapped together—you and I, Thusis and Clelia, and this beastly Bulgarian with his beak of a bird of prey; and that vulgar Greek King and his vixen of a wife, —Oh, Lord!”

“I’m glad God acted,” he said cheerfully.

“You’re glad that avalanche fell?”

“Yes; I’m very much relieved.”

“Why, in the name of Heaven?”

“It simplifies my duties,” he said, smiling. And that’s all I got out of him except that he advised me to have nothing to do with this enterprise of Thusis and her sister.