AN ASYLUM
As may be imagined, we returned to Von Lindheim's in a very different
state of mind from that in which we had set out. Our friend's surprise
at seeing Szalay, whom he had already looked upon as a dead man,
was only equalled by his delight. But we realized that Szalay's
providential escape had only increased the danger of the situation. No
time was to be lost now in forming a plan of escape. We agreed that
it must be effected that morning, before Rallenstein might have time
to set his emissaries of death on our track. Both the result of the
duel and the pretence of illness would give colour to a precipitate
move from Buyda. As a dying man, Von Lindheim was to be conveyed to a
country house he had at Schönval, some twenty miles from the capital.
And indeed, if he was really to die, he would prefer that the blow
should fall there; and in that stronghold we felt we might turn at bay
and at least gain time, if flight out of the country, too dangerous
now, should subsequently seem feasible. Then came the question--what
was to become of poor Szalay? He stood in equal danger. We could not,
for humanity's sake, leave him to his fate. If we did he would most
assuredly be a dead man within twenty-four hours. But how to get him
away under the lynx eyes of Rallenstein and his creatures? After many
plans we decided upon doing the best we could to disguise him as a
servant, and so taking him down to Schönval with us.
He was a fair-faced man with reddish hair and beard. We made him
shave, blackened his hair and eyebrows, found some paint and gave his
complexion a ruddy tinge; then we dressed him in an extra suit of
Pabst's, and flattered ourselves the disguise would pass even under
Count Furello's eye. Anyhow, when he finally saw himself in the glass
he hardly recognized his own identity, and behind his effective mask
began to take courage. But it was an anxious time for all of us. I
was too concerned for the awful peril in which my friends stood to
appreciate fully the adventurous side of the business. Fighting against
these underhand methods of assassination was not quite to my taste.
Still, the danger was real enough, and that had to be met.
Having come to a decision, we sent hastily for Dr. Rothmer. After our
anxious vigil Von Lindheim looked pale and drawn enough to support his
pretended symptoms. When we mentioned his desire to be taken to his
country home, the doctor, as we foresaw, strongly objected to any such
move. He was not going to lose fees if he could help it.
We appeared rather to fall in with his views, intending all the same
to make a start when he had gone, and simply mentioning the matter for
the sake of plausibility. Von Lindheim lay groaning, with a stimulated
quick respiration and signs of collapse in which we had coached him.
The doctor looked grave, shook his head at the difficulty of combating
ptomaine poisoning, and finally, having impressed upon us the patient's
extremely critical state, went off, promising to send another draught,
which might relieve the symptoms.
No sooner had he left us than we began to prepare for our flight. We
had settled that the first part of the journey should be made by road,
for the reason that by railway we should be more open to observation.
So we proposed driving to a country station about eight miles distant,
and then catching a train to our destination.
The move was carried out successfully; at least without hindrance. Half
an hour sufficed to make our preparations and have a roomy carriage at
the door; our pseudo-invalid was borne out and laid in it, Szalay, in
his new guise, helping in the work. So we started, leaving the faithful
Pabst to answer inquiries; our departure and manner of travelling being
plausible enough.
So far as we could tell, our move had been quite unobserved. The street
was comparatively deserted, as it would be at that early hour, and as
we drove off and got clear of the city, we congratulated ourselves
that, so far, we had given the slip to the Jaguar, and at least had a
good start of any pursuit. It was a bright morning, and as we rolled
along over the country roads lined with dew-sparkling hedges, the gloom
of the situation seemed to have lifted with that of the night. The
brilliancy of the day seemed to give the two despairing men a new zest
for life, and with that came courage. Even poor Szalay could discuss
his position calmly and more hopefully; we could have laughed at the
absurd alteration in his appearance but for the thought that he had
taken a man's life that day. We presently slackened our pace, that we
might arrive at the wayside station just when the train was due. This
we hit off very successfully, and carried our invalid tenderly, with
anxious faces, into an empty compartment. No other passengers were at
the station, with the exception of a couple of old market women, and
we felt sure they were genuine. An attentive guard found us a carriage
and assisted us, rather officiously, it seemed; but then first-class
passengers were rare at those little stations. At each stoppage he
came to look after us, and at the end of the short but tedious journey,
he helped us out and bustled about us with rather more assiduity than
was agreeable. However, before we were able to leave the station for
Schönval we had seen him whistle the train off and depart with it.
"I didn't quite like that guard," Von Lindheim said as we drove away.
I reasoned with him against his uneasiness.
"Ah, you forget," he answered, "our railways are state property. The
man may very well be in the Chancellor's employ."
"Anyhow," I said, "he is miles away by this."
"And here we are at home," he exclaimed with a sigh of relief. "Safe so
far."