“Nothing,” he answered. “It was their fault not to meet us. You either
drove faster than they expected or didn’t go to the right bridge. We
ought to have grabbed him, but there is a reason back here why I
couldn’t.”
“Oh, it’s their own fault,” I said. “Are you all in?”
“No,” he said. “Keep on moving and I’ll tell you. We have a second
passenger. He’s hidden under the robe back here. I stepped on him as I
got into the car in that town. I almost gave the show away saying
‘damn.’ It’s the chap who dropped the plaster on us. He was in the car
before we left Visichich manor, and he seems to want to stay hidden.”
“So while they were looking for him outside the manor,” I said, “he was
in the car?”
“They were not looking for me,” answered a muffled voice. “There was
another riot. There will be many. I heard them talking about it when
they took the other cars. I was afraid they would take this one, too,
but they did not. They had not missed me. But now I must quickly be
taken to the Palace. No one must see me.”
“Why should we take you to the Palace?” John asked. “For all we know you
may be an assassin. We don’t even know any name to call you by, right or
wrong.”
“I cannot tell you my name,” the man said, “but I did give you a pass to
the Queen, did I not? If you will try to use that you will see that it
will be honored.”
“You may have stolen it.”
“I will write you another, and you may see me write it. It also will be
honored.”
“The Queen knows you, then?”
“Yes, yes, she knows me. But I am in great danger here if anyone should
see me. I have enemies. Enemies to the King. Enemies to the Queen.”
“John,” I said, “if he’ll write another pass, and you see him do it, and
they think it is all right at the Palace, I guess we’d better take him
up there. But we won’t vouch for him.”
There was a half-choked expletive from under the blanket, which stopped
abruptly, and then changed to saccharine sweetness. “Any way you like,
gentlemen,” the voice said. “Stop the car while I write, but be sure
there is no one to see me. I cannot write while the car moves.”
We went through the little ceremony without mishap. John compared the
signatures on the two passes. “Whatever this is meant for,” he said, “it
is quite illegible, but the two look exactly alike.”
“All right,” I agreed, “we’ll go, but I shall tell the guards that we do
not know the man, and are not responsible for him, and that I shall feel
safer if he is carefully watched.”
“I don’t care what you tell the guards,” came from under the robe. “Only
I wish to be taken to the Royal Palace, and queeck. Perhaps you know
what has been happening since I was in prison?”
I heard John say, “why, yes, a little, I guess. Though we don’t really
know much of what has been going on the last two days. We’ve been about
as much out of touch as you have. Of course you knew the King is dead?”
“Oh. The King is dead! No, I did not know that.”
“Yes, assassinated.”
“Ah. The poor King! And is Conrad already in power in the Palace, then?”
“No. The Queen sprung a surprise on everybody. She produced a princess
everyone thought was dead. Maria Lalena is Queen of Alaria now.”
“Maria Lalena!” the voice whispered, and I could not tell whether the
man was laughing or sobbing, but his voice was shaking. “You are sure
the Queen did that, not Conrad?”
“Look here,” I said. “This doesn’t sound right to me. Who the devil are
you, anyway?”
“That I must not tell you.”
“I am afraid to take you to the Palace unless you do.”
“I am a monk,” he said, “attached to the service of the Royal Family. I
was King Bela’s confidant, and, in many things, the Queen’s also, but of
this Princess Maria Lalena I knew nothing. Gentlemen, I beg of you, take
me to the Royal Palace.”
And, still doubting the safety and wisdom of the course, I did.
A sentry stood motionless on either side of the gate. John leaned
forward, and showed the pass the monk had written. “Do you know that
signature?” He asked in German. The man saluted smartly. “Yes, sir,” he
answered. “Certainly I know it, but we have orders to allow no one to
enter here without a special pass signed within twenty-four hours. I am
sorry.”
“Oh,” John said. “I did not notice that that had a date. Here, anyway,
is one signed within twenty-four hours, for I saw it signed myself.” He
offered the second of our passenger’s signed slips of paper.
For answer, the two sentries stared for an instant, and then thrust
their bayonets at us, and called out. Two more men appeared from behind
the gate.
“You are under arrest,” said the first man.
_CHAPTER VII_
Of course we were accustomed to being arrested, but this was a different
matter from the other times. This might be a criminal offense.
Foreigners, without passports, and with only a mad story about how they
had lost them, trying to obtain entrance to the Royal Palace with a
strange man hidden under a robe in the back of the car. And Helena, the
only person who could vouch for us, a prisoner of the Black Ghost.
“What for?” John asked truculently.
“Because you must repeat that story to a higher officer,” the man
answered. “If you saw that paper signed within twenty-four hours it is a
forgery. The city of Herrovosca is under martial law.”
“Wait,” I said, holding up my hand with all the authority I could
muster. I was frightened, and it seemed ridiculous to have come through
so many difficulties only to be arrested at the very end of our journey,
almost within speaking distance of the Queen. A few passersby added
themselves, gaping, to the group of soldiers.
“We really have a legitimate errand to the Queen,” I said. “We only
showed you those passes to see whether you thought them real. We
suspected them ourselves. Here.” I offered him the red card that the
Black Ghost had given us. He stared at it in surprise, and said,
indifferently, “Yes, of course. This will let you through any police
lines. If you drive your car on the wrong side of the street, and show
this, it will be forgiven, but it makes no mention of the Royal Palace,
and though I do not say so, there are many of these cards, and you may
have stolen this one. You must go before the Colonel tomorrow.”
Tomorrow! Even that was not so bad as the presence of that man in the
back of the car. While they were about to discover him at any moment,
and we were under arrest, we certainly did not want to proclaim his
presence. I cursed myself for a fool not to have told the soldiers about
him immediately. We had only agreed to take him to the Palace, and we
had done that. Now quite a crowd was collecting around us.
“Wait a moment,” I said. “I realise that you must take every precaution.
You are right to do that, of course.” I stooped, took off my shoe, and
since they looked suspiciously at me, I held it up in plain sight, while
I removed the paper Helena had given me. Then I laid the shoe on the
seat beside me.
For the first time the guard looked impressed. “Countess von Waldek,” he
said. “Ah, yes, Countess von Waldek we know, and have had orders for
three days to admit her immediately when she comes, but she does not
come. She has disappeared. You will have to show this as well to the
Colonel tomorrow.” He opened the front door, and another man opened the
back one.
“You are making a mistake,” I said. “Our business is urgent, we—”
John interrupted me. “I must tell you, then,” he began, “that—”
John was too impulsive. Besides, I saw that we must declare the presence
of the man in back or perhaps suffer serious consequences if they found
him first. I interrupted John.
“We have come,” I said, “from Visichich Manor. We were asked to bring to
Herrovosca a—”
But I got no farther than that, for there appeared suddenly on the other
side of the square a large open car, and in it sat the new Queen Maria
Lalena in a long veil of white mourning crepe and looking as sweet and
pretty as a Queen of the May. The car, like most Royal cars, was
travelling at a swift pace, and was preceded and followed by soldiers on
motor cycles, but it had to slow down as it neared the now large crowd
that had collected around us, blocking the gate. In the sudden movement
as it approached a voice shouted, “See! See! The impostor! She is
dressed like the Holy Virgin! Blasphemer!”
A figure lunged forward from the edge of the group. It was all so quick
and unexpected that I must have acted instinctively, as one does
sometimes in a moment of impending accident. Mechanically. I can
remember the act, but not any thought on my part that directed it. My
hand closed over the shoe that I had laid on the seat beside me, and I
flung it at the upraised arm of the man who had shouted. The only
conscious thought I had was a sudden realisation of his identity.
It was the prophet.
I had come all the way from home, through three imprisonments, for the
purpose of hitting a false prophet with an old shoe.
But I did hit him. The shoe struck him squarely in the face just as he
threw something round and black, and the something round and black
hurtled high above the white head of the Queen Maria Lalena, and fell
far beyond her on the deserted pavement of the square, where it burst
with such a roar as I had not heard since I left the trenches in 1918.
Everybody began shouting at once. The crowd pushed and surged until I
thought our car would be turned over. John and I were jerked out
roughly, and held against the Palace wall by the soldiers, while the
crowd, which seemed to double with each passing second, yelled at us.
All the doors of the car were open. The rug, under which the mysterious
man of the plaster had hidden, was gone, and so was he. It was the only
bright spot in our last disaster. We no longer had to explain him, at
least. I felt I wanted to laugh about that, but didn’t dare. People
might think I was laughing at them. Someone struck me in the face. I
slipped sideways and cut my shoeless foot on a sharp stone. John cursed
in English, and I could just hear him above the din. The soldiers were
doing all they could for us, but they were hopelessly outnumbered by the
mob. Step by step we were half dragged, half pushed, toward the Palace
gate. It was only a short distance, but each inch was being fought for,
hard. A woman in a red dress spat at us, a man kicked me deliberately on
the shin. I couldn’t get my balance quick enough to kick back, and the
soldiers were holding my arms. At last, our lungs almost bursting, we
half fell through the gate, which was closed behind us amid furious
shouts and threatening gestures from the crowd. I found myself on the
calm side of the barrier, sitting in the middle of the roadway, too
dazed for the moment to care. I closed my eyes in relief, but I wasn’t
allowed to sit quietly. A soldier pulled at me, and made me go behind
the wall, where I could not be seen from the street. There was a stone
coping there and I sat on it. John, battered and grimy, and making a wry
face over his arm, but with his eyes shining with excitement, grinned at
me delightedly.
“I see now,” he announced to any who cared to listen, which was me, “why
war was a noble career in the days when it was fought like that. There’s
some point in being allowed by the rules to kick a man and know it was a
good job.”
“You’re a disreputable looking savage,” I told him.
“And a bit of a wreck, yourself,” he chortled at me. “I hand it to these
soldiers. They’re a swell bunch of guys.”
The swell bunch of guys began wrapping a stout rope around his good arm,
tying it effectually to his body. I protested violently, but the only
attention they paid to me was to tie my wrists. They were all talking so
hard that no one would answer a question or speak to us at all. I
stopped trying to do anything more, and just leaned back against the
wall, too exhausted to worry even in the face of our latest capture.
“We should have stayed,” John said to me, “at Visichich Manor. That
Countess is a damned nice girl. I wish she were here now, she’d get us
out of this mess.”
“While we are wishing,” I said, “we might as well wish a little higher.
I wish the Black Ghost were here.”
“Which one?” John asked, grinning.
“Oh,” I said. “Were there two, do you think?”
“I know it,” John said. “And what is more, I think I know who the second
one is.”
“Who?” I asked.
“Not here,” he said. “I’ll tell you as soon as we are alone.”
“Well,” I said, “both men’s manners were charming, and his—or
their—prison is well appointed. It would be rather acceptable after this
last scrap. I’m tired.”
“Yes,” John agreed. “Especially as we have no guarantee that the
Herrovosca jail won’t be ratty. Joke on you, though. Afraid to stay in a
town where there might be a riot, and then get into mess after mess. And
don’t forget we’re wrong all the way around now. There isn’t a faction
here that hasn’t at least one count against us. We’re messengers to the
Queen, but we brought a regicide to town. We promised to be friendly
toward the Black Ghost, but didn’t deliver the prophet to the gendarmes.
We are friends of Helena’s, but she has disappeared, and we were about
the last people to see her so far as anyone can prove. The Visichiches
were nice to us, but we stole their car and took off their prisoner.
We’re Americans, but we haven’t any good excuse for not having our
passports, and, anyway, I rather think they thought you threw that bomb.
Probably I was the only person who saw what you did. And a lot of good
my testimony will be.”
“What do we do next?” I asked.
“Whatever offers,” John said, confidently.
From outside came the sound of motor cars. Our captors opened the gate,
and more soldiers came through. Two grasped my arms tightly, two more
grasped John, more formed a lane, and they started leading us toward the
square again.
We had been actually inside the Palace wall, and now we were going out
again, without having seen the Queen. I groaned, but we could not start
a war with the whole Alarian army.
They got us out to the sidewalk. The mob had not diminished in size, but
it was subdued by the new soldiers. Our appearance was the signal for
redoubled shoutings, and the line of guards was jostled so hard that we
were delayed on our way to the large black car—a proper Black
Maria—drawn up at the curb, its black yawning interior waiting for us.
“Guess I might as well resign,” John said. “Being a queen’s messenger
doesn’t seem to be my metier. Hereafter I suppose I’ll have to stick to
painting. I’m afraid I’m better at it.”
The noise grew confusing. There were shouts in front of us, and shouts
to both sides, and even, I thought, shouts behind us. The line of
soldiers suddenly closed altogether, and instead of forcing us into the
Black Maria, we were led back again inside the Palace gate, nor, this
time, were we stopped there, but led up the incline toward the Palace
itself.
“Going to take us out by a back gate and save trouble,” John said. “We
tried saving trouble, but we learned better, didn’t we?”
We did not go up the great state stairs that led to the huge arched
doorway, but to a small door under the staircase, along an almost dark
corridor with a cold stone floor. We were inside the Palace at last, but
not in the way we had expected to get there. I was too discouraged to
care much what they did to us. John might be cheerful. Being wounded,
the soldiers had protected him better than they had me, and he had both
his shoes. My only immediate interest was in stepping as lightly as
possible on my unshod foot, but I retained a faith that the future would
sometime permit me to leave Alaria. Nobody ever loved any country less
than I did that fantastic, mediæval kingdom at that moment. I did not
even care that we had failed in our errand.
We reached a room with a soft carpet, for which my foot was grateful. It
was a blue carpet, without figures, and never made in Alaria. Indeed,
the color was so unexpected, underfoot in a country of bare stone floors
or bright Oriental rugs that I summoned interest enough to look around
me. White enamelled French furniture, upholstered in pink and blue
striped silk, and on a mantel bright French porcelain vases with a clock
to match. I reflected that Palace dungeons were more daintily furnished
than any we had hitherto been lodged in.
A door was opened, and we were ushered through it, into a less formal
room, where, at last, and when we least expected to see her, sat Queen
Yolanda.
She was draped, like a Ziegfeld Niobe, in heavy black, and sat before a
large and elaborately carved desk. Beside her, flushed with excitement,
her eyes bright, but frightened, stood Maria Lalena. She nodded when she
saw us, and said something I did not hear to Queen Yolanda. The soldiers
stood very close to us so that we should not be able to make any attack
upon their royal persons.
I was beyond being surprised, but it was somewhat unexpected. It was
also the first time I had ever been ushered into the presence of two
Queens, and I was not sure just what might be the proper ritual. John
smiled ecstatically, bowed deeply, and said, “your Majesties.”
Both ladies returned the bow, formally. Yolanda spoke then. It was the
first time I had heard her. Her voice was throatily vibrant. “Why do you
bring these gentlemen here like criminals?” she demanded. “Have you so
little regard for your Queen’s life that you arrest her saviors?”
The officer with us protested. “Your Majesty, this is the man who threw
the bomb.”
Maria Lalena said, excitedly, “No, no, it isn’t. He threw something that
made the bomb go wild. I saw it. I was looking straight at him.”
Queen Yolanda spoke again resonantly. “You should know your business
better than that. Untie those ropes.” She turned to us. “We are very
grateful, and we apologise for our soldiers’ mistake. They have been
stupidly rough with you. Forgive them, they thought you assassins. We
sent for you to thank you, and also because her Majesty tells me that
you were in a dangerous situation at the gate. We acted as quickly as we
could.”
“Please sit down, do,” Maria Lalena spoke quickly. “I am afraid you are
hurt.”
Yolanda turned to look at her annoyedly. I was glad enough of the
opportunity. I sat down, and shoved my stockinged foot under the chair.
John sat beside me.
“We should apologise,” he said, “for our appearance. We would not
willingly have presented ourselves before your Majesties in such a
dishevelled state, but we were, as you know, given no choice. We were
under the impression, in fact, that we were being taken to prison.”
Yolanda said “Yes, yes, to be sure,” very stiffly, while she stared at
us crossly for having sat down. She could set her stage magnificently,
she could play her part with conviction and authority amid insuperable
difficulties, but she could not make her audience love her. It was
amazing to me that she had been right often enough, and clever enough,
to keep her place in spite of all the hatred she stirred up. They were
so different, those two women facing us. The person who would take
Yolanda’s place must have brains and experience, and Maria Lalena was so
young and untried, though she was pretty and appealing. Her eyes were
amazing. She was looking at John now as she had looked at a counter of
pastries in Paris eight years ago. There was the same hopeful, wistful,
long-lashed glance. Quite irresistible. She turned the same look on me,
and then dropped her eyes. That was what she used to do about the
pastries. Drop her eyes after one lingering, devastating glance, and the
family bought them for her.
Yolanda was sitting in silence. She knew how to use the old stage
tricks. In a second, from the vantage point of her high backed, red
damask chair, she would graciously give us permission to retire.
I spoke before she should have an opportunity. “Your Majesty, we have
brought you a message from the Countess Waldek.”
Maria Lalena answered, and jumped from her chair to do it. Even Yolanda
sat up a little straighter.
“Oh,” Maria Lalena cried, “oh, where is she? Is she safe?”
Yolanda admonished her in a low voice, sibilant with annoyance. She sat
down again.
“Yes,” I answered, “she is quite safe.”
“Give it to me,” commanded Yolanda, holding out her hand.
“It is a verbal message,” I answered. “We were to tell you that the
Black Ghost wears a ruby ring.”
Maria Lalena stared at us in blank surprise. The message meant nothing
to her. If it meant anything to Yolanda she hid it effectively. She said
merely, “oh, yes, a code we had arranged. Thank you very much.”
“That’s all very well,” John answered, “but he does wear a ruby ring.”
“Oh,” Maria Lalena cried in surprise, “how do you know?”
Yolanda glared. “Do you happen to know where the Countess is at
present?”
“When we last saw her,” I said, “she was a prisoner at the Black Ghost’s
stronghold in the mountains.”
Maria Lalena gave a loud gasp.
“You saw her there?” asked Yolanda, interested at last.
“We were imprisoned in the next room to hers. We escaped, but were
unfortunately not able to release her.”
“I see,” she said, slowly, and her voice lost its fine resonances, and
became almost sharp. “You gentlemen will wish to refresh yourselves. You
should probably also see a doctor, for I fear my overzealous guards have
not been as careful of your well-being as I could wish. Meanwhile I have
one small favor to ask of you. You brought to Herrovosca a man hidden in
the back of your car. He came up to the Palace during the trouble at the
gate. I wish that you should say nothing of this man to anyone. You will
give me your word?”
“Certainly,” I said.
“And who,” Maria Lalena asked, her eyes turned wide and frightened
toward her mother, “was the man they brought here? Was that who was
locked in here with you when I came to tell you about these gentlemen?”
“That,” said Yolanda, drily, “is just what I do not wish discussed.”
“But surely I may know?” the girl persisted. I saw that her hands were
trembling. She had had a bad fright with the bomb.
“You? Certainly.” Yolanda’s voice was honeyed. “The man is a monk who
has left his monastery to bring me consolation in my sorrow.” But her
voice sounded triumphant. A monk, and with manicured finger nails? The
sleeve was a monk’s sleeve, but he had a mustache and not more than
three days’ beard.
“A monk?” asked Maria Lalena, uneasily. “Then why not speak of his
coming?”
“That,” Yolanda answered, firmly, “we can easily discuss later. These
gentlemen are exhausted, and we must not keep them any longer. Some
other time, perhaps.”
“There is still the matter of Countess Waldek,” John protested. “I
should like to know that you will send a rescue expedition to her.”
Queen Yolanda answered coldly, “You can surely leave that to us,
Countess Waldek is our affair.”
John took a long breath. “Not altogether, your Majesty. She is Mr.
Carvin’s cousin, and that makes her partly our affair.”
Maria Lalena jumped up from her chair. “Oh,” she cried, “then you
are—now isn’t that splendid? I see now, you came straight from the Black
Ghost’s den.”
“No,” I said, “not quite. We were forcibly detained at Visichich Manor
last night—”
“Visichich Manor?” Yolanda spoke almost crossly. “I thought you said you
were prisoners in the Black Ghost’s mountain stronghold. Surely you
don’t think that they are the same?”
“Oh, no,” John was gently explanatory. “We were held in both places.”
“In two days?”
“A day and a half.”
Maria Lalena laughed as though she were pleased. “Americans are like
that,” she approved. “And I’m so excited to see you. I know who you are
now. I knew you were coming, you see. I—”
Queen Yolanda interrupted her with a quick sentence in Alarian. She
flushed, sat down again, and went on more hesitantly. “Now I feel as
though I had some real friends here.”
Yolanda sat staring at her stonily. “You have many friends,” she said
severely. “These gentlemen—”
But Maria Lalena had started, and was not to be stopped. Yolanda had
pulled all the strings, but the puppet was dancing to her own tune. “Go
on,” she said, leaning forward, “tell me all about what happened next.”
John cleared his throat, and then spoke carefully. “There was a very
minor little excitement at Visichich Manor while we were talking to the
Countess Katerina, and we had a chance to get into the garage, and stole
a car. Afterward we found this monk in the tonneau under a rug.
Ridiculous, wasn’t it?”
Yolanda said stiffly, “not at all.”
Maria Lalena shook her head, sadly. “I always did think those
Visichiches were a funny lot,” she murmured. “Do they know much about
this monk?”
“I haven’t the least idea,” said John, smoothly. “He can probably tell
you more than we can.”
“He is not to be questioned,” Yolanda announced.
“Well,” Maria Lalena said. “Colonel Count Visichich is in the Palace. I
saw him. I think we should send for him, my mother. Confront him with
these gentlemen. Perhaps he wouldn’t be so mysterious then.”
Yolanda flushed a little, but she answered gently, “No, my dear, by no
means. Later we will attend to all that. Now these gentlemen must be
allowed to refresh themselves.” She leaned forward to press a button on
her desk.
“Oh, do you want to go?” Maria Lalena asked us. “Wouldn’t you rather
find out all about this now?”
A servant appeared, and Maria Lalena spoke quickly to him in Alarian.
Yolanda glared, and her hands clenched angrily. The servant went out. We
all waited in uncomfortable silence, until, very quickly, the Count
Visichich came in. He was very dapper, very punctilious, and very ready
for anything until he saw us. Then he looked startled. I decided that he
had not yet heard of our escape. That was quite possible if he had left
the manor in one of the first two cars. His mouth opened for a second,
before he recovered his composure. He made deep bows to the two Queens,
and to us, and then stood stock still with conscious poise.
The ladies acknowledged his salutation solemnly, Yolanda sitting back in
her crimson chair, while Maria Lalena shivered in excitement. A wise,
wise, woman and an over-eager frightened child. There was just the
shadow of satisfaction on Count Visichich’s face as the girl spoke. He
was ready enough for anything she might have to say. I felt sorry for
her. She was frightened, but she didn’t yet know what a bad corner she
was in, or that we were in it, too. We had delivered our message at
last, and were probably worse off than ever. There wasn’t a chance that
we would be allowed to leave the Palace without being re-arrested under
any one of a half dozen possible charges. And neither of the two women
who were supposed to be the rulers of the country would be able to help
us. I tried hard to plan something, but my brain was a blank.
“Count Visichich,” said Maria Lalena, “I want to know a lot of things,
if you please. The first of them is, what, exactly is the nature of the
relationship between your family and Prince Conrad?” Yolanda shivered
perceptibly.
Count Visichich answered suavely, surely, with just a touch of irony in
his pleasant voice, “Prince Conrad is a member of the Royal Family, a
cousin of your Majesty’s, and as such he ’as always found me a loyal
subject, a friend, if I may be allowed the term.”
“And what,” she pursued, relentlessly, “is your relation, then, to the
Black Ghost of the Pass?”
“We are good Catholics,” the Count answered, with the trace of a smile,
“and as such we pray daily to the Saints, but ’ave no traffic with the
restless ghosts of dead men, even though they may ’ave been ’eroes and
patriots in life.”
Yolanda looked up as though she were amused. Maria Lalena spoke quickly,
“I did not mean the ghost of a dead hero or patriot,” she answered, “but
the masked man who plays the part of the Black Ghost. Who is he? Do you
serve him or us?”
Count Visichich looked surprised. He did it excellently. “Is someone
masquerading as the Black Ghost?” he asked.
“The Black Ghost imprisoned these gentlemen,” Maria Lalena was growing
more and more nervous, “and when they escaped from him you imprisoned
them at Visichich Manor. Why—”
“Ah,” Count Visichich looked as though he understood everything at last.
“I think these gentlemen will tell you quite willingly that my son and I
discovered them walking on the road that leads to our ’ome. It was late
at night, and they ’ad only a mysterious story to tell about a car that
they ’ad abandoned somewhere be’ind us. There was no car be’ind us
because we ’ad just come over that road, and must ’ave seen it. We took
the very natural precaution of insisting that they accept our
hospitality for the night. We gave them every comfort and treated them
as guests. They will surely acknowledge this.”
“Oh, quite,” John said. “You were delightful. We did not deserve nearly
such charming entertainment as we received, and we were almost as
disreputable looking tramps as we are now.”
“Then why did you run away?” Maria Lalena asked.
“Because we wished to tell her Majesty, Queen Yolanda, what had happened
to the Countess von Waldek,” John said, smoothly.
“You mean,” Marie Lalena said, “to tell her that the Black—”
“These gentlemen,” said Yolanda quickly, “should be allowed to—”
“Exactly,” I interrupted. “My friend—”
Count Visichich interrupted again. He was not going to let us leave
before he had found out, if he could, what we had told Yolanda about the
Black Ghost. And if he found out, something sudden would probably happen
to us.
“These gentlemen,” he said, smiling, “would only seek out more
adventures if they left here. I assure you they are most astoundingly
avid for excitement. They cannot stay in one place for more than a few
hours. That is the reason why they ran away from us, of course. Your
Majesty cannot, surely, be in doubt as to the fidelity of our family.
For ’undreds of years we ’ave been loyal to the Crown. We wish only the
long and successful continuance of the dynasty, and peace to the
country. Prince Conrad is of one mind with us. He, also, is bending
every effort to avert any possible trouble. He telephoned to me
personally this morning when there was a riot in Pranga, and I went
there. I advised him to stay ’ere, as it is the most important city. My
son and I went to Pranga, and quieted the disturbance there. We were
brought word that there ’ad been the beginning of a riot in Vorgo also,
but that it ’ad been stopped. I left my son in Pranga, and came on ’ere
to be ready to help in case of any disturbance. I am ’ere to obey any
orders your Majesties may care to give.”
Yolanda sat still silent in her high red chair. She had a fine poker
face. Maria Lalena looked relieved. I had an idea at last. I whispered
to John out of one side of my mouth, “If you would faint we could get
out of here—best way.”
He did not turn his head to whisper back, “Faint yourself, if you want
to. I’m staying.”
I knew we ought to get out, but I didn’t want to, either. My nose for
news would have made going hard, if I may be allowed so high sounding a
term for ordinary curiosity.
Count Visichich was speaking slowly again, watching Maria Lalena. “You
said something about the Black Ghost a few moments ago—per’aps I can
clear up something for you if you will tell me what it is?”
“Nothing, nothing at all,” Yolanda said, icily. “Her Majesty is very
tired. She has had a great shock. She should rest. Come, my dear.”
“No,” Maria Lalena said, nervously, “I don’t want to rest.”
Count Visichich said thoughtfully, “I was talking to Prince Conrad when
you so kindly sent for me. Perhaps Your Majesty would wish to allow ’im
to explain any matter that may be troubling you?”
“Yes,” Maria Lalena agreed, a little doubtfully. Yolanda looked
resigned. She touched the bell again. If she had been French or American
she would have shrugged her shoulders. The same servant appeared to
receive the order. Maria Lalena spoke to him first, and then Yolanda
beckoned him to her, and gave him a further whispered instruction. He
presently returned to usher in Prince Conrad, who bowed almost
reverently to the two Queens, his tall figure quite graceful, his face
serious but a little quizzical, his eyes very black under straight
brows. We rose formally. I balanced uncomfortably on my one shoe.
Yolanda bowed, and motioned him to another high-backed red damask chair,
like that on which she throned herself. Then she nodded to Count
Visichich and to us, and we all sat down again, neatly and a little
absurdly, like a row of dolls in a toy shop. If we were going to have
exposures that might shake dynasties we were to have them, at least,
with the most polite formalities.
“This is a very important conference,” Maria Lalena said in words. The
tone of her voice said, “I wish I were a long way out of all this, and
had someone’s shoulder to cry on, but I’ve got to do something. Anything
is better than just letting things drift.”
“So I judged,” said Prince Conrad, looking at us, pointedly.
“These gentlemen,” Maria Lalena continued, “are a cousin of—of Countess
von Waldek’s and a friend of his. They know a great many things.”
“They are lucky to know,” he answered, gently. “There are so many things
that I only suspect.”
She flushed, and looked quite miserable for a moment, but his smile was
amused, candid, tolerant, absolutely without rancor; she took a little
courage from it, and went on, “something should be done. The Black Ghost
and his band imprisoned these gentlemen, and are now holding my very
dear—my very dear Countess von Waldek up in the mountains in a castle,
or whatever it is. I beg you, dear Prince, to organise a rescue
expedition to put an end to his disgraceful banditry.”
Prince Conrad looked at her and then at us, and then slowly took from
his pocket a jewelled gold cigarette case, and with a movement that
asked permission of the ladies without words, he selected a cigarette
with his left hand, then closed the case, and put it back in his pocket,
holding the cigarette ready to light. On the hand that held it blazed a
ruby ring. A ring fit for a king, large enough for a king in a play.