“Pretty girl, too,” said John, thoughtfully. “We mustn’t be too hard on
them, though it’s the craziest scheme I ever heard of even if she really
is the Princess.”
“Yes,” I said, “I’d like to know who thought of the whole silly plot in
the first place, and who persuaded my poor cousin to go into it. Being
Queen of a poverty-stricken, unsettled Balkan country isn’t my idea of a
proper destiny for a young girl who ought to be going to dances and
having a lot of trips to Paris, and all that sort of thing.”
“Queen Yolanda thought of it,” John said, “it fairly reeks of her.”
“Thought of what?” I asked. “Killing her son, or only of importing this
girl to take his place?”
“Oh,” John said. “Suppose Fakat to be responsible for killing Bela, what
more natural than that a lady who had been practically the ruler of the
country for a number of years should object to relinquishing her place
to an old hermit brother-in-law, and want to keep her position as mother
of a weak, or at least inexperienced ruler? No doubt it had got to be a
habit.”
“Don’t be too sure,” I interposed, “it may quite well be that the girl
really is the Princess. If the old lady had wanted her only daughter
brought up away from the court, what could be more natural than that she
should give her to her only disinterested friend, a woman whom she could
trust, and who lived nearby, and yet outside the country?”
“Yes,” John admitted, “not that it is going to make much difference, as
I see it. Her fate isn’t going to be determined by her identity, but by
Conrad and the Black Ghost. My guess is that they mean to assassinate
her as quietly as possible, blame it on someone else, and take the
throne.”
I agreed, but said that it wasn’t any of our affair, anyway, but that we
must get Helena’s message to the Queen.
“All I wish,” John said, “is that I were sure that that nice Countess
Visichich were not mixed up in the assassination part. That I should
hate.”
“Our business at present,” I said, “is to get out of this place before
we are returned with thanks to the more careful custody of our
black-masked friend. We may be able to save the girl’s life, and save
Countess Visichich from even a reflected guilt in her death.”
“Bravo,” said John, “and a splendid chance of escape we’d have hopping
on the heads of that mob out there. You might try picking the lock of
that door, though.”
“Ever try it?”
“No.”
“Besides, we haven’t anything to pick it with. Have to have something in
the way of tools.”
“Oh, for a woman with hairpins.”
“Those days are passed. They all have cropped hair except your favorite
Countess Visichich.”
“She’d do nicely. Still, if we were to raise some sort of disturbance—”
“Have to be a good deal of disturbance before it would be heard over
this excitement.”
“Couldn’t we set the house on fire?”
“That’s arson. After all, we’re not criminals, and there’s strong
practical objection in that we’d probably be burned up in it before they
noticed.”
“Yes, but if we made a smudge, and they thought it was on fire—”
“I’m afraid there’d still be more chance of smothering ourselves than of
attracting their attention.”
He gave up the idea, then, and we both sat down gloomily to wait. The
crowd outside calmed down, and little by little it thinned, as the
excitement faded. The Black Ghost went into the house next door, and his
troop sat their horses under our window. The mob was still disturbed,
and from time to time a new center of argument would bubble up, and die
out again after a few shouts. The presence of the black masked horsemen
was wonderfully soothing.
At last the key turned again in the lock and the doctor reappeared.
“This way, gentlemen, if you please,” he said. John rose a little
unsteadily, and we followed the doctor down a corridor, and through two
rooms and a heavy door in a thick wall, into a dining room. Behind a
long table, in a high-backed, red-cushioned chair, sat Fakat Zol in
state. Around him were grouped three of his followers in their
outlandish uniform, and several men of the town, looking very important
with reflected mystery.
The Black Ghost spoke in a somewhat husky voice. “We meet again, a
little sooner than I expected.”
He had taken off the gloves that covered his hands when I saw him from
the window. He waved John to a chair with a hand that should have worn a
ruby ring. Automatically I looked for it. It was not there.
John answered him, smiling, and seeming to have lost his weakness.
“Perhaps a little sooner than any of us wished,” he suggested.
“I am sorry you ’ave suffered a wound,” the Black Ghost went on, “and
yet I am very glad that it brought you ’ere. I am sure Doctor Carlo ’as
given you the best of medical care, and I ’ope you are not in pain.”
He seemed very much concerned, yet I would not allow myself to be
deceived. He was a bandit. We were to be disposed of by him, and though
he was as pleasant as ever, I felt that something was wrong. It was not
that he seemed displeased with us, quite the contrary. But he seemed
changed. John noticed it, too. He was staring at him thoughtfully. The
accent was the same, but the voice, for all its huskiness, was more
debonair. I argued that a sudden success had wrought the change. That
was bad for us, in one way, yet it might be that we could count on him
now to be more magnanimous to two American citizens. Still, who would
ever know anything about it if he were not?
“You ’ave escaped twice from my—er—our—’ospitality. They say the number
three is symbolic of good luck.”
“A singular recurrence of good luck, certainly,” said John.
“Exactly. The Black Ghost brings good luck to ’is friends. Though you
’ave opposed yourselves to me, I feel that you would like to be my
friends. Is that not so?”
“That might be true if we knew you better,” John said.
The Black Ghost laughed. “That is what I mean,” he said. “I believe you
gentlemen wish to go to Herrovosca to see Queen Yolanda. At least that
is the way I interpreted the news of the ’ole between your room and that
occupied by a certain lady. Now, it may be a surprise to you if I
withdraw my objection to your going there. As prisoners, gentlemen, you
are very troublesome. I think I would rather ’ave you for friends. If
you will give me your word of honor to say nothing of what you ’ave
learned of the politics of the Visichich family, or of the location of
the castle in the mountains, you may go to Herrovosca. Except, I ask you
to do me a favor.”
“And what sort of favor can we do you?” I asked, feeling that it would
probably prove a joker.
“I ’ave a passenger for you as far as Herrovosca.”
“A passenger?” I repeated, stupidly.
“Yes. Only one.”
“May we ask the identity of this passenger?”
“It is the self-styled prophet who was preaching from the fountain. ’e
is a mad monk, a ’ermit, who takes every opportunity to preach sedition
to people who believe ’im a saint. ’e is suppose to ’ave effected a few
miraculous cures. ’e is a great fakir, but ’armless except at a time
like this, when any slight disturbance may create a civil war. I do not
wish to arrest ’im ’ere for fear the people may take ’is part. ’e ’as
refused to go with my men to Herrovosca, though ’e wishes to go there,
but ’e ’as agreed to go with two American tourists. If you will not take
’im I will arrest ’im, but this way may prevent bloodshed.”
“That sounds most reasonable,” said John.
“It is best that you should not speak to ’im, nor to answer ’im if ’e
speaks to you. ’e ’as also promised not to speak, though I am not so
sure ’e will keep ’is word. You will drive by the straight road, going
through the city as far as the church of St. Nicholas. There you will
turn to the left. Do not mistake that. At the Central Bridge you will be
met by police who will remove the Prophet from the car, and you will be
free to do, from that time forward, whatever it may please you, even so
far as a visit to our Dowager Queen.”
“Well,” said John, “of all the topsy-turvy countries I’ve ever been
in—though, of course, that is no affair of ours.”
“None,” said the Black Ghost, “unless, of course, you would wish to make
it so.”
“And the alternative?” I asked.
“The alternative—will be to return to the frontier under
guard—immediately.”
“We’re not interested in the alternative,” John said. “Are we, Carvin?”
Of course I had to protest that we were not. I wasn’t, really, either,
though I was beginning to wish we’d stop somewhere a little while.
“The Doctor Carlo’s most charming wife ’as prepared some food for you to
eat upon the journey,” the Black Ghost went on. “That is so you need not
stop on the way. There is no ’urry to ’ave you arrive there, but I do
not wish you to stop with your passenger, ’e might jump out.”
“We haven’t enough petrol,” I said.
The Black Ghost turned to one of his men, and gave an order in Alarian.
“Your tank will be filled immediately,” he said. “Anything else you
wish?”
“We should like our passports back,” I suggested.
“Ah, your passports. Oh, yes, to be sure. I shall ’ave to send for them,
but I promise you shall ’ave them back again.” He turned to the doctor
and spoke again in Alarian. The doctor fumbled in his pocket and drew
out a card with an official-looking stamp on it. The Black Ghost
motioned him to give it to me.
“That,” he explained, “is a pass that will take you through any police
lines. With it you will be able to reach the servants in the Royal
Palace. No doubt you ’ave been provided with some means of gaining an
interview with the Queen after that. Can you think of anything else you
will require?”
“Nothing,” I said.
“Naturally,” he continued, “you will do your passenger no ’arm of any
sort on the way. I think he will not try to make any trouble for you.
You give me your word of honor, gentlemen?”
“My word of honor,” I answered.
“Mine, also,” said John.
“Then you will start immediately. Oh, one thing more. Your passenger may
understand any language that you do. Kindly say nothing to each other
during the trip. There will be no necessity for speech.” He waved his
hand, and four of his black-masked followers went with us, out of the
house, by the same back way we had entered. The alley was crowded now,
but not too much so for passage back to the car, where another Black
Mask was already filling the gas tank from two large tin cans. We would
have got in the front seat, but our guards stopped us, and we stood
waiting until two more Black Masks joined us, leading the Prophet
between them. They put him in front next to me, standing close to him to
prevent his jumping out. He was followed by a large crowd who eyed us
all curiously.
Meanwhile John got into the tonneau, and I heard him say “damn!” in a
surprised tone. “All right?” I asked. “Yes,” he answered, “quite. Get
in.” I mounted beside the prophet. “Straight ahead on this road,”
directed one of the masked men, “make no turning until you come back to
the main road, then turn to your left. About a hundred kilometers
farther.”
I started the car with a groan of relief. We were again on our
much-interrupted way to Herrovosca. The road was too full of people to
make quick time at first, but as soon as we were out of the congested
area I stepped on the gas. At last there seemed to be nothing between us
and our goal, though I could not help wondering what had happened to
make the Black Ghost change his mind about letting us go. However, just
driving again without feeling hunted was such fun that I relaxed
presently, for the first time in days, and stepped on the accelerator,
hard.
We came to the wide, metalled main road, and made splendid time. Farther
on we topped a hill, and saw below us again the broad, fertile valley
beyond which was Herrovosca. In the distance I could just see, a little
mistily, the towers and roofs of the city. My watch had stopped the
night before, but by the position of the sun I judged it to be about the
same time of day we had passed this way three days before, fatuously
running away from possible trouble. We made splendid time. I wanted to
comment on it to John, but remembered in time not to speak. I glanced
back at him. He was smoking quietly, and winked at me. He was having a
fine Roman holiday.
In half an hour or so more we would be in the city again, and rid of our
passenger and our responsibilities. The prophet sat straight and silent
all the way, holding fast to his cross-handled staff, his eyes fixed on
the city with a fanatic intensity. It was quite evident he was not
expecting arrest there. It was a little cruel of us to deceive him, I
felt.
We passed the little inn where we had bought bread and mutton and wine
on our way to Helena’s. Gradually the small houses grew more frequent,
they assumed the style of villas, their gardens became more ornamental,
the traffic was heavier, and then we were suddenly in the city again,
where we had so often despaired of being. The shadows were lengthening.
I did not remember the way very well, but he had said straight to the
church of St. Nicholas, then right—or left?—to the river. I could not
remember which it was, so I tried to think of all the things the Black
Ghost had said, but still I could not determine whether it was right or
left. Then I came to the church of St. Nicholas, and slowed down while I
motioned to John. He pointed to the right. I turned that way. I did not
know the bridges by name, but I knew that Central Bridge must be a large
one, so I drove on until we came to a large bridge. I drove beyond it,
and then turned widely so as not to stop the car, and drove back,
looking for gendarmes. There were none. I decided that that was the
wrong bridge, and drove on farther the same way, until I came to
another. There were no gendarmes there, either, so I went on still
farther. And at the next there were also no gendarmes, so I continued,
but came suddenly to the high city wall, with a great gate through it.
There were no more bridges, so I turned around to go back. But there was
not so much space to turn there, and I had to stop and back and stop and
back again. The second time I stopped, the prophet suddenly opened the
door at his side, and jumped out. He stood for a moment beside the car,
holding up three fingers of his right hand in blessing. We had been told
not to harm him or to speak to him, so I left him there, not knowing
what else to do with him. As soon as we saw some gendarmes we could tell
them where we had left him. John said “what the hell!”