MY DEFENCE.
The grip of a hand on my shoulder roused me from my reverie. A couple
of soldiers stood one on either side of me; and as I turned I saw the
red brute of a captain being supported out of the room. The officer who
had arrived last had taken command and was sitting at a table with the
lieutenant standing at his side. With much relief I recognised him at
once. He was a Major Kireef whom I had met at the Palace reception.
I was placed in front of him, and two or three of the soldiers took up
positions by Gatrina. As the major held my fate and perhaps my life
in his hands, I scrutinised him closely. He was a man between forty
and fifty years of age; his face strong but not harsh; his manner
peremptory as of one accustomed to exact prompt obedience; but he gave
me the impression that he would deal justly even if sternly. A vastly
different type of man from the red-headed, passionate beast whose place
he had taken. And I was heartily thankful for the exchange.
He glanced sharply at me and with a slight start turned to some notes
he had made of what the others had told him. I guessed that he had some
recollection of my features and was probably looking for my name.
“You are Major Kireef, I think?” I said, while his eyes were still on
the papers. He looked up quickly and frowned.
“You are not to question me,” he rapped out, very curtly. Then: “I see
no mention of your name here. What is it?”
“The man who has just left was going to have me shot without troubling
to find out,” I replied, getting that fact out as soon as I could.
“Be good enough to remember you are a prisoner, and that you will not
help your case by either evading my questions or attempting to bring
charges against others. Now, your name?”
“Chase F. Bergwyn, a citizen of the United States.”
He dropped his pen in surprise and half started to his feet.
“Mr. Bergwyn?” he exclaimed. “It is not possible.”
“If you can send a message to Colonel Petrosch he will confirm what
I say, major. I met you at the Reception at the Palace just after my
arrival in Belgrade. You may remember me.”
I had every cause to be satisfied with the effect of my words. He
paused a moment as if in doubt what to do, and then waved back the
soldiers who stood by me.
“Have the room cleared,” he said to the lieutenant. “Put a chair for
Mr. Bergwyn there.” I moved my chair near to Gatrina and while the room
was cleared, he busied himself with his notes.
“Shall I remain, major?” asked the lieutenant, when the men had gone.
“Yes, for the present;” and the young officer went back to his place,
having to step over poor old Chris, whose body, now that the place was
empty, lay in full view, a conspicuous, ghastly evidence of the wild
scene just ended.
“There must surely have been some unaccountable mistake, Mr. Bergwyn?”
he said, interrogatively and courteously when we four were alone;
“judging, that is, by the extraordinary story which has been told to
me. I invite you to explain.”
“I asked the captain who has been hurt to allow me to do so privately;
but he declined. Let me thank you for having cleared the room. There
is a further favour you can do me, and a much more important one. Let
someone go at once in search of Colonel Petrosch. I won’t disguise
from you I have placed myself in a very awkward position, and as he
and I have had some very confidential relations--you may perhaps know
that--it is of vital importance I should have his assistance.”
“This matter is in my hands, and I must investigate the facts before
taking any other action. The charges against you are very grave--if you
are indeed the person implicated.”
“If you will put any questions I will answer them,” I said,
disappointed by his refusal of my request.
“You have represented yourself as an officer of the Servian army?”
“Yes.”
“You, with others who appear to have escaped, violently ill-treated the
guard who were sent here to arrest this lady--Princess Gatrina?”
“It may pass at that; although the ill-treatment was not very violent.”
“You set your dog on one of them?”
“The man was going to arrest me, and I would not permit that. But he
was not hurt.”
“You then forcibly took from five of the men their uniforms that your
men might wear them as a disguise and personate troops of the line.”
“Yes, that is true.”
His eyebrows went up and he pursed his lips and shrugged his shoulders.
Very ominous gestures.
“Who were the men with you?”
“That I cannot answer. The responsibility is mine and mine only. They
were men whom I paid to assist me.”
“That is a very grave admission, Mr. Bergwyn.”
“I am quite aware of it. It’s a very tight corner, indeed.”
“Was anyone cognisant of your plans?”
“No one.”
“This lady?”
“No, certainly not.”
“You are wearing a captain’s uniform. How did you get it?”
“I borrowed it without leave--stole it, perhaps I ought to say; except
that I shall return it to the owner.”
“Who is the owner?”
“That I cannot answer.”
“Yet you say no one--not even the owner of the uniform--was in league
with you?”
“Not even the owner of this uniform.”
He appeared to find this difficult to believe; and it began to look as
if I had done Nikolitch a bad turn.
“It is very extraordinary.”
“I have told you the truth, major. I give you my word of honour as an
American citizen.”
“Now then as to your object. What was that?”
“I wished to prevent the Princess Gatrina being arrested by the army,
and to place her in safety until the passions of this night’s doings
in the city had cooled sufficiently for the officers to have time to
consider their course in regard to her.”
“I am loath to take that answer, Mr. Bergwyn--it only makes your case
worse.”
“I can’t help that, major. It is the truth.”
“You interfered deliberately to oppose the plans of the army?”
“I interfered to prevent at least one deed of blood being done in the
frenzy of to-night’s passion.”
“Who are you to set yourself against the army, sir?” he retorted very
sternly.
“The English blood in my veins and my instincts as an American citizen
alike revolt against the insensate violence of such an act as that
intended, and I used such means as I had to prevent it. I staked my
life on the issue; and if the army choose to claim the forfeit, I will
pay it.”
“Why do you say such an act was intended?”
“The answer is supplied in what has occurred to-night at the Palace,
Major Kireef. That I could not prevent, although, God knows, I would
have done so had I had the power.”
Gatrina, who had been listening breathlessly to all this, intervened
then. “What has occurred at the Palace?” she asked strenuously. “Surely
no violence.”
“The King and Queen have come in conflict with the troops, and their
Majesties have lost their lives in consequence.” The answer was given
with cold deliberation; and I took it for the official version of
Elma’s one word prophecy--assassination.
Gatrina was overcome by the news and threw herself back in her seat,
her face covered by her hands.
“Are they the only lives that have been--lost?” I asked.
“I cannot answer you, Mr. Bergwyn.”
“Perhaps not; but you can at any rate see in my question the reason for
all I have done to-night--even if to you it does not appear to be a
justification.”
“The arrest of the Princess will of course take place,” he answered,
“and you, Mr. Bergwyn, will have to answer to the army for what you
have done.”
“I am ready to face the band; but I am not the only one who will have
to do that. That red-headed murderer who was here just now----”
“I cannot hear this,” he interposed.
“It’s part of my case, if you please,” said I, warmly. “He not only
told the Princess, like the coward he is, that she was to die, but he
himself drew his sword upon her. Then it was that my dog there flew at
him--and I only wish he had torn his cowardly life out of him.”
“You may have an opportunity of defence.”
“‘May have,’” I cried, indignantly. “You are talking to an American
citizen, sir, and you’ll find out how that Government views the acts
of her people when they try to prevent innocent blood being shed, even
if the acts themselves are wrong. I demand, right now, to have the
protection of my country’s representative.”
“Your crime has been committed against the army, sir,” he said, coldly.
“Crime? Crime you call it?” I answered, passionately. “Crime? To tie
up half a dozen men in order to prevent a real crime, murder, being
committed? If mine is the crime, all I can say is I am guilty of it,
and would be guilty of it a hundred times over.”
“This heat will serve no purpose, Mr. Bergwyn,” said the major, after a
pause.
“You’re right there; we’ll have no more of it. I’ll tell you how the
thing arose--for I’ve nothing to conceal;” and I told him plainly how
I had overheard the talk between the spy from Gatrina’s house and just
what I had done afterwards.
“And now, if you’ll send out in search of Colonel Petrosch, it will
save much time, anxiety and trouble for all concerned.”
“I must consider my course. I am not answerable to Colonel Petrosch
alone, I fear. The Princess must be prepared to go with my men.”
“I will go,” declared Gatrina, with instant readiness.
“The Princess is already under arrest, Major Kireef. She is at your
disposal here just as much as anywhere else. Why can she not remain
until Colonel Petrosch comes? I have his word of honour that he will do
everything in his power to protect her.”
“I have my duty to do, Mr. Bergwyn.”
“I am sure it cannot be your conception of duty to place her where she
will be in danger of her life. It is but a matter of an hour or two.
You are in possession of the house. No attempt will be made by her, I
am sure, any more than by me, to escape; and if it were made, you are
in such force here that it would be impossible. Let her remain here
until at least Colonel Petrosch arrives.”
He shook his head. “My instructions are definite.”
“Well, I’ll give you another reason. You know, perhaps, the general
nature of the matters which have been discussed between Colonel
Petrosch and myself. The result of them may depend upon your decision
now. The Colonel would confirm this.”
He thought a moment. “I should like to do as you wish. Will you give me
your word of honour to attempt no escape?”
“Certainly, I will. If I’m to get out of this mess, it will be by very
different means, I assure you.”
He considered again for a space, and then rose. “I accept your word,
Mr. Bergwyn, and will leave you while I send for Colonel Petrosch, and
consider what else to do.”
I gave a deep sigh of relief when he left the room. I had pulled
through the first stage; and that was something. I glanced at Gatrina’s
face, ashen, horror-filled, and drawn with trouble and suffering. I
could not bear to witness it, so I turned away and stared blankly out
of the window into the darkness, now changing rapidly to the grey of
the dawn.
For a long time not a word was spoken. Her agony of mind was far beyond
words; and nothing that I could do or say could relieve it.
She was not thinking of herself, I knew. All thought of self, even the
uncertainty of her own fate involving as it did the issue of life and
death, was lost in the numbing, staggering blow dealt by the news of
the Queen’s murder.
Now and again a moaning sigh burst from her lips and told me how
acute was her agony. Twice I turned to make some clumsy attempt at
consolation; but each time the look her face bore stopped the words on
my lips, and I turned back to watch the light without strengthening
slowly as the time crept on.
I had one consoling thought. The longer the interval between the fell
occurrences at the Palace and the coming of the soldiers for Gatrina,
the stronger grew the hope that she might escape the fate which had
been decreed for her.
That thought led me slowly to another--the necessity of having
a definite proposal to make as to Gatrina’s future movements. I
remembered what Colonel Petrosch had said as to the wish of the army
that she would go from Belgrade.
Now that the King was dead, the question of the succession had become
acute. Gatrina’s presence in the city might be a greater embarrassment
than before in the settlement of that question. I recalled, too, Elma’s
statement of the Russian scheme in this respect. Even those who, like
that brute of a captain, had resolved to cut the knot of the difficulty
with a sword blade, might be glad to be relieved of her presence.
Foul, dastardly, inhuman even, as was the policy of assassination, it
was yet founded upon a sort of crude, barbarous logic. The resolve
to exterminate the dynasty was the murderous major premise; and the
relentless and hideous resolve to put to death all who, by claims of
family, stood in the way, followed as a ruthless consequence.
That was Gatrina’s danger. But if she would consent to abrogate her
claims and could be prevailed upon to leave the city at once, there
was the chance that she might even yet be spared. Colonel Petrosch
had avowed his desire to spare her; and if he could be assured that
she would offer no opposition to the army, his hands would be greatly
strengthened.
I might at least use the fact to induce him to allow nothing to be done
that night; and the delay of a few hours might mean everything. I had
calculated throughout that when the wild passions of all concerned in
the night of horror had had time to abate, the craving for blood even
of the most reckless of the reckless would cease. A reaction against
further violence would be almost certain to follow, and counsels of
sanity, reason and prudence would prevail once more.
The light of day and the hours of reflection would thus bring hope,
and I watched the light increase with unspeakable thankfulness. But
question Gatrina I must, and at length I went back to my seat and
turned to her.
“We must speak about yourself,” I said.
In her absorption and suffering she had not noticed my movement, and
started nervously at the sound of my voice; but said nothing.
“Your danger is not yet passed,” I continued; “and when the officers
return we must have something definite to say about yourself.”
“I care nothing for myself,” she murmured, desolately.
“Your life is in danger, and you must care,” I said, firmly. I must
rouse her by some means.
“If they covet my life, let them take it--after this.”
“I will not let you say that. You are speaking now under the influence
of these horrors, and from the feelings of desperation which they
naturally prompt. But you must think of yourself, and you shall. You
have no right to throw your life away because things have been done
which you were powerless to prevent.”
“Do you think I fear death? If they covet my life, let them take it,”
she repeated.
“The sacrifice of your life can do no good to those who are already
dead, Princess. It is only cowardly to feel this indifference.”
“I would rather be a coward and die than beg my life at the hands of
these murderers. I will hear no more.”
She spoke with more animation than before: and so long as I could rouse
her from the stupor of her grief and horror, I knew I was doing good.
If she could be provoked to anger, so much the better. I cared not what
I said.
“You cannot avoid hearing me, and I am resolved to speak,” I continued,
deliberately. “And you owe it to me to listen carefully.”
The curl of her lip shewed that she thought this about as mean as it
sounded. But she did not reply.
“You must have heard me, and if you are not a coward of another kind,
you will reply.” I felt an awful brute as I said this; but it had its
effect. She started up, clasping the arms of her chair and leaning
forward, looked at me with amazement, anger and bitterness. But I went
on doggedly: “Not your life only but mine also is in the balance, and I
have the right to expect you to make an effort.”
“The right?” The words came like a flash of contempt.
“Yes, a double right,” I said, in the same stubborn tone, intending to
anger her. “I saved your life in the Gravenje hills and I came here now
to save you again.”
“My God, I did not think a man could be found to speak thus at such
a time,” she cried. She was angry enough now even to forget for the
moment her grief.
“You are angry because I remind you of this, and consequently do me the
injustice of such a taunt.”
“I heard your words, sir,” she cried.
“But you didn’t understand them. I spoke as I did to rouse your anger
and make you think of other things beside your trouble, and having
gained that end, we’ll go back to where we began to speak of yourself.”
“How could you? How dared you?” she wailed, sinking back in her seat
again.
“I would do anything and dare anything to make you think of
yourself--even let you deem me as mean a hound as my words implied. You
must face this thing resolutely. I have one thought that may give us
hope.”
“I cannot think or speak of anything now. I--I am sorry for my words
just now.”
“They don’t matter any. If you had thought or said anything less, you
wouldn’t have been yourself, and I should have been disappointed in
you. Now, there’s one thing that may help us. Let me be able to tell
Colonel Petrosch when he comes that you renounce all claims to the
succession and consent to leave Belgrade before nightfall.”
“Would you have me run away in the hour of danger from a crowd of
dastardly assassins?”
“I would have you recognise facts as they are--that the army have the
upper hand, for the time at any rate, and that they are resolved no
member of your family shall sit on the throne of this country. I would
have you save your life, Princess, by the only means that I believe it
can be saved.”
“No,” she cried, vehemently. “No one shall ever say I ran away. That
I----”
“Wait,” I interposed. “Don’t take an oath about it. An oath is an
awkward thing to break; but a resolve one can argue against.”
“Nothing shall persuade me to be such a coward.”
“Well, let us argue it out,” I answered.
But there was to be no chance of doing that; for as I was speaking
Colonel Petrosch and the Major entered the room.