32. CHAPTER XXXII.
And, far the blackest there, the traitor friend.
— Dryden.
Several days had passed, during which Vinal contrived to
have more than one private interview with his new acquaintance,
Speyer. He had sounded him with much astuteness;
found that he could serve him; and was confirmed in his
assurance that he would.
Morton, he knew, was to leave Paris on the next morning.
The time to act was now, or never.
At about three in the afternoon, he discovered his rival
sauntering along an avenue in the garden of the Tuileries;
and walking up behind, he joined him.
“There are some of us,” said Vinal, after a few moments'
conversation, “going to Versailles to-morrow. Will you go?”
“I mean to leave Paris to-morrow.”
“To-morrow! That's very sudden.”
“I shall come back again in a few months.”
“Your first move is to Italy, I think you said.”
“No, to Austria and the Danube.”
“O, I remember; it is West who is going to Italy. I
think he has chosen the better route of the two.”
“Yes, as far as history and works of art are concerned.
But the Austrian provinces are the best field for me. I
am mounted on a hobby, you know, and my time is so short
that I must make the most of what I have.”
“You wish to see the people — the different races — is
that it?”
“Yes.”
“You ought to be well booked up before you go, or you'll
lose time. By the way, I made an acquaintance a little
while ago in the diligence from Strasburg — a very agreeable
man, a professor at Berlin —”
“O, the professor whom you and Richards were going to
see, the other night.”
A thrill shot through Vinal's nerves; but the unsuspecting
Morton almost instantly relieved his terror.
“I was standing on the steps as you went out, and heard
you say that you were going to visit him. From the way in
which you spoke, I imagined him to be some professor of the
noble art of self-defence.”
“Ha, ha!” laughed Vinal, not quite recovered from his surprise;
“no, not precisely that; Speyer is a philologist —
that's his department.”
“And Richards knows him, too?”
“Yes, through my introduction.”
“From your calling him `his friend, the professor,' I
imagined that the acquaintance began the other way.”
“Yes, his friend, with a vengeance. Confound the fellow,
as I was walking with him the other day, we met Speyer, and
I, thinking no harm, introduced them; but it wasn't twenty-four
hours before Richards was at him to borrow money,
which Speyer let him have. I dare say Richards has bled
you as well.”
“No.”
“No? Then you are luckier than I am. I advise you to
keep out of his way, or he'll pin you before you know it.”
“I should judge as much.”
“I spoke of Professor Speyer because he was born in some
outlandish corner of the Austrian empire, — Croatia, I think
he told me, — and had his head full of political soap bubbles
founded on the distribution of races in that part of the world.
He put me to sleep half a dozen times with talking about
Pansclavism and the manifest destinies of the Sclavic peoples.
He is the very man for you; and I am sorry I didn't think
of it before.”
“Well,” said Morton, “I must blunder through as I can.”
“Are you at leisure? I'll go with you this afternoon, if
you like, and call on him.”
“I dare say my visit would bore him.”
“Get him upon the races in the Austrian empire, and he
will be more apt to bore you. Are you free at four o'clock?”
pursued Vinal, looking at his watch.
“Yes, quite so.”
“Very well. I'm going now to my tailor's. Every genuine
American, you know, must have a new fit-out in Paris.
I'll meet you at Meurice's at four, and we'll go from there to
Speyer's.”
Vinal had three quarters of an hour to spare. He spent a
part of them in forging the next link of his chain. At four
he rejoined Morton, and they walked out together.
“I think you'll like Professor Speyer,” said Vinal. “I
have become quite intimate with him, on the strength of a
fortnight's acquaintance. He urges me to go to Hungary and
Transylvania, and offered me introductions to his friends
there. It would not be a bad plan for you to ask him for
letters. They would not make you acquainted with the Austrian
haut ton, but they would bring you into contact with
men of his own stamp, — people of knowledge and intelligence,
who could be of great service to you, and with whom
you needn't be on terms of much ceremony. — Here's the
place; — he lives here.”
It was a lodging house on the Rue Rivoli. Vinal rang the
bell. The porter appeared.
“Is Professor Speyer at home?”
“Non, monsieur; il est sorti.”
Vinal had just bribed the man to give this answer.
“That's unlucky,” he said. “Well, if you like, we can
come again this evening.”
“I am engaged to dine this evening at Madame —'s.”
Vinal had known of this engagement.
“I don't see, then, but that you will lose your chance with
Speyer. Well, fortune de guerre. I should like to have had
you see him, though.”
And they walked towards the Boulevards, conversing on
indifferent matters.
