He went on."Yes, to South America.I was there in a diplomatic capacity, during one of the many revolutions.This country was the paradise of adventurers, the riff-raff of continental social outcasts.I distinctly remember the leader of this revolution.Up to the very last day, Captain Urquijo was the confidential friend of the president whom he was about to ruin.Through the president's beautiful daughter Urquijo picked up his threads and laid his powder train.The woman loved him as women sometimes love rascals.The president was to be assassinated and his rival installed.Captain Urquijo was to be made General of the armies.
"One fine day the troops lined both sides of the plaza, the square also about which lay the government buildings.It was the event of some celebration; I believe the throwning off of the yoke of Spain.The city flocked into the plaza.Strangely enough, those who were disaffected--the soldiers under Urquijo--faced the loyal troops.By a preconceived plan, the artillery was under the command of Urquijo.Suddenly this Captain's murderous and traitorous guns swept the plaza, mangling women and children.
There was a flaw, however, in the stroke.Urquijo fled, a reward posted for his head--mind you, his head; they did not want him alive.
"The daughter expiates her foolish love in a convent.Her disgraces proved too much for her father, who blew out his brains.The successor secured extradition papers in all the leading capitals of the world.The story was the sensation of the day; the newspapers made much of it.All governments offered to assist the republic in hounding down this rascal.To whatever country he belonged, that country promised to disown him." _.
Maurice took the photograph.and cast it into Beauvais's lap."Do you recognize that face? Is it not a mute accusation to your warped conscience?" The voice, changing from the monotone of narrative, grew strong and contemptuous."I know you.Irecognizcd you the moment I laid eyes on you, only I could not place you.Perhaps it was because it did not seem possible that you would dare show your face to civilized people.That photograph has done its work.By the Lord, but you're a fine rascal! Not a bit changed.Have you forgotten your Spanish? As God hears me, I shall hold you up.""You are a very young man," said Beauvais, rising.He was still smiling."Do you know why I asked you here? For this very reason.
Madame divined you well.She said that you had a dash of what romanticists call valor, but that you never saw an inch before your nose.I knew that you would be at the archbishop's; I knew that you would follow me to this room.Indeed, you might have suspected as much by the unusual arrangement of the fixtures of the room.I placed that photograph there, trusting to your rather acute eyesight.
"My memory seems to be better than yours.I knew you the first time I saw you in Bleiborg.I was waiting only to see how much you had remembered.I am not Colonel Beauvais; I am not Urquijo; I am the last of a noble Austrian house, in exile, but on the eve of recall.Your knowledge would, of course, be disastrous to my ambitions.That is why I wanted to find out how much you know.You know too much, too much by half; and since you have walked into the lion's den, you shall never leave it alive."With this he sprang to the wall and tore down the rapiers, one of which he flung at Maurice's feet.
Maurice felt the hand of paralysis on his nerves.He looked at the rapier, then at Beauvais, dazed and incapable of movement.
It had been so sudden.
"And when they find you in some alley in the lower town they will put it down to thieves.You are young and thoughtless," Beauvais went on banteringly."A little discretion and you might have gone with a whole skin.We never forget a woman's face, and I knew that you would not forget hers.Don't trouble yourself about leaping through the windows; the fall will kill you less effectually than I shall."Maurice pulled himself together.The prospect of death brought back lucidity of mind.He at once saw the hopelessness of his position.He cursed his lack of forethought.He became pale and furious, but his head cleared.His life hung in the balance.He now translated Beauvais's smile.
"So you wish to add another to the list?" he said.
"To shield one crime, a man must commit many others.O, this will not be murder.It will be a duel, in which you will have no chance.Pick up the sword, if only for form's sake." Beauvais caught the wrist thong of the rapier between his teeth and rapidly divested himself of his jacket and saber straps.With his back toward the door, he rolled up his sleeve and discovered a formidable forearm.He tried the blade and thrust several times into the air.
"What promise have I," said Maurice, "that you will not run me through when I stoop for the sword?" This question did not serve.
Beauvais laughed."I never get angry in moments like these.I am giving you a sword to ease my conscience.I do not assassinate boys.""But supposing I should kill you by chance?"Beauvais laughed again."That is not possible."Maurice had faced death before, but with more confidence.The thought that he had poked his head into a trap stirred him disagreeably.He saw that Beauvais possessed a superabundance of confidence, and confidence is half of any battle.He picked up the sword and held it between his knees, while he threw off his coat and vest, and unbuttoned his collar and cuffs.What he had to sell would be sold as dearly as possible.He tested the blade, took in a deep breath, fell easily into position--and waited.
