NEAERA'S IDEA OF DIPLOMACY

At first I was aware from a hum of voices that others remained in the room with me; but after some time the hum ceased; next I heard the noise of artillery not far off. It did not last long, but I recognized the tearing screech of machine guns. When it was over, believing myself to be alone, I sought to extricate myself from my bonds. The cords, however, were so tightly fastened about my wrists that the skin was torn, and every effort I made to loosen them occasioned acute pain. I must have uttered a low cry, for I heard a voice I knew well say mockingly:

"Does it hurt?" And the gag was removed from my mouth.

"I thought I was alone," answered I.

"We are alone—quite alone," said Neaera. "Why don't you stick your staff in the ground and put the cock under the pot?"

She was so close to me that I could feel her breath on my cheek.

"Release my hands and I will," answered I.

"Thank you, indeed! Do you think I have had you bound for that!"

"I do not flatter myself; but as you are disposed to chat, tell me what is happening."

She took the band off my eyes and looked bewitching as she mocked me:

"Nothing is happening; and if there were something happening how should I know it?"

"Who tampered with Chairo's carriage?"

I asked the question suddenly in the hope that I should take her by surprise.

"What carriage?" asked she with an air of innocence, but the color mounting to her cheek betrayed her.

"Chairo says some one treacherously tampered with his carriage."

"Nonsense," answered Neaera. "The accident to Chairo's carriage is not the first carriage accident in the world. Chairo is thinking only of himself."

"How so?"

"He wants Lydia; we want liberty."

My suspicions were confirmed.

"I suppose Chairo has made love to you—as have all the rest."

The dimple deepened in Neaera's cheek, but she busied herself unfastening the cords that bound my wrist.

"I am going to give you liberty at any rate," she said. "For I want you to do something for me."

"Stick my staff in the ground and put——"

"No; I have forgiven you; it is something very different from that."

My hands were free now, and I stretched them out in exquisite relief.

"Are you a little grateful?"

"Of course, I am grateful—but I am still more curious to know what you want me to do for you."

"It is very simple." She showed me a sheet of paper upon which was some typewriting. "I want you to sign this."

I put out my hand to take the paper and read the writing.

"Oh, no!" she cried, putting the paper behind her back. "I want you to sign without reading." She looked at me with a smile which she meant to be irresistible; and, assuredly, to most men the temptation would have been great—for the smile said plainly that acquiescence would have its full reward.

I had unloosed the cords about my feet and was standing in front of her irresolute; not wishing to make an enemy of her by a downright refusal, for I did not know what confederates might be within call and yet half inclined to snatch at the paper and read it in spite of her. But I suspected that she meant me to do this; that she shrewdly guessed a playful struggle between us would increase the temptation to yield to her beyond powers of resistance.

As I stood smiling at her, for the grace of her posture—leaning a little forward and holding the paper behind her back—disarmed me, she suddenly waved the paper before me as though inviting me to snatch at it.

I cannot imagine what would have been the result of this little comedy had not a distant hum from the street suddenly attracted our attention. She ran to the window, threw up the sash and, taking up a field glass that was lying on the table, looked down the street. One glance was sufficient; when she turned back into the room her face was blanched; every trace of coquetry had disappeared; she barely looked at me and hurried from the room. She locked the door upon me as she left. I went to the window, but on my way there picked up the paper she had offered for my signature and which she had dropped as she picked up the field glass. I was too much interested in what was happening in the street to read it then. I thrust it in my wallet and saw without the help of the field glass that the street was full of armed men hurrying to the Liberty building, and upon their shoulders the badge of Demeter—a golden sheaf on a blue ground—was clearly visible. Obviously, Balbus's attempt at rescue had failed, and instead of bringing back Chairo in triumph to the Liberty office, it was the special constables who were crowding to its doors. Soon I heard a rush of steps up the stairs; there was a fumbling at the door; the door was forced and there rushed in a number of men, one of whom recognized me. I explained the message from Chairo which I had brought to the office of Liberty and, without mentioning names, added that I had been bound and imprisoned there. The cords in the room and the abrasions on my wrists confirmed my story. I promised to hold myself at the disposal of the investigating magistrate and was given my liberty.

The offices in which I had been confined were searched and every paper in them carefully collected. I betook myself at once to the chambers I shared with Ariston, but on the way I took the paper I had been asked to sign out of my pocket and read it.

Not a word in this interesting document was literally false; and yet it was obvious how falsely Neaera meant to use it.