A DRAMATIC STROKE
"Have you any news for me?" was Gareth's eager question, natural enough
under the circumstances, and her delicate expressive face clouded as I
shook my head.
"We could scarcely expect any good news yet, dear."
"I suppose not; but I am so anxious."
"It will all come right in time, Gareth." But that very trite
commonplace had no more soothing effect on her than it often has on
wiser folk.
"I suppose I must be patient; but I wish I could do something for
myself. I hate being patient. Why can't I go out myself and search
for him? I put my hat on once this morning to start."
"I told you before the risk you would run."
"Oh, I know all that, of course," she replied, petulantly. "I've been
with you nearly two days and you've done nothing. Two whole long days.
And it's so dull here. It's worse than at Sillien."
"Would it have been better had those men taken you?"
She threw her arms round my neck then and burst into tears. "I know
how ungrateful I am. I hate myself for it, Christabel. But I did so
hope you had brought some news. And I am so disappointed."
I let her cry, knowing the relief which tears bring to such a nature as
hers. She soon dried her eyes, and sat down and looked at me, her
hands folded demurely on her lap--the picture of pretty meekness.
"How pretty you are, Gareth--with your lovely golden hair, your great
blue eyes, and pink and white cheeks."
"Am I?" she asked artlessly, smiling. "Karl used to say that; and I
used to love to hear him say it. I only cared to be pretty because he
liked it. But I like to hear you say it, too. You see I'm not a bit
clever, like you; and one must be either clever or pretty, mustn't one?
Karl's both handsome and clever. Oh, so handsome, Christabel. You'll
say so when you see him. I wish I had a likeness."
This gave me an idea. "Couldn't you draw a likeness of him, Gareth,
for me? You see it might help me to recognize him."
Her face broke into a sunny smile. "I can draw a little; I couldn't do
him justice, of course--no one could do that. He's too handsome. But
I could give you an idea of what he's like."
We found paper and pencil. "Do the best you can and then put my name
on it, and sign it Gareth von Ostelen, and put the date to it, so that
I can have it for a keepsake."
"Lovely," she cried, merrily; and set to work at once.
I watched her a few moments, and when she was absorbed in the task, I
went off saying I had some directions to give about house matters.
It was part of my plan that John Perry and his son, as soon as the
latter returned, should go to the house "Unter den Linden." I might
need them for my personal protection.
I told John Perry now, therefore, that he was to hire a woman servant
to come and help his wife in waiting upon Gareth. He was then to
purchase a carriage and a pair of good horses, and procure uniforms for
himself and his son. He was to act as coachman and James as footman;
and everything must be in readiness for him to carry out instantly any
orders he received from me. I should either bring or send the orders
on the next afternoon.
I explained that in all probability he would have to drive to the house
"Unter den Linden," stable the horses there, and dismiss any men
servants he might find about the house; and I suggested that he should
go first to the house and find an excuse to learn his way about the
stables.
When I returned to Gareth she had finished the drawing and had added a
clever little thumb-nail sketch of herself in the corner, where she had
written her name and the date. The drawing really merited the praise I
bestowed upon it.
"I could do much better if I had not to hurry it," she said,
self-critically.
"Do another while I am away, then," I urged, thinking it would fill out
the time for her. "And now there is one other thing. Could you give
me a paper or letter with his signature--I might be able to trace him
through some of the public rolls."
There were no such rolls of course; but she did not know this, and
thought the idea so clever that she gave me one of the two letters from
him she had with her; and kissed me and wished me good luck as I drove
away.
Although there was not much risk of my movements being traced, I
thought it best to dismiss my carriage before I crossed the Suspension
Bridge, and to finish the journey to Madame d'Artelle's in another.
As the minute approached for the trial of wits and strength with Count
Gustav, my confidence increased. Every fighting instinct in my nature
was roused; and the struggle was one in which I took a keen personal
pleasure. His hateful treatment of the girl who had trusted him filled
me with indignation and resentment; and the hope of forcing him to do
justice to her was one of the sharpest spurs to my courage. He should
do that or face the alternative of having his double treachery exposed.
I was a little later than I had intended in reaching the house, and I
asked the servant somewhat anxiously if any one had yet been for me.
"No, miss, no one."
"I am expecting a Colonel Katona to call, Peter," I said, giving him a
gold piece; "and I do not wish any one to know of his visit. I shall
be with Madame probably; so when the Colonel arrives, make up a little
parcel and bring it to me, and just say: 'The parcel you asked about,
miss.' Put the Colonel in the little room off the music room, and tell
him that I will see him as soon as possible. You understand this?"
"Yes indeed, miss," he answered with a grin as he slipped the money in
his pocket.
"Where is Madame d'Artelle?"
"In the salon."
"Alone?"
"No, miss; Count Gustav is with her. He has been here about a quarter
of an hour."
I went straight to the salon. Madame was sitting on a lounge, her face
full of trouble, and Count Gustav was pacing up and down the room
speaking energetically with many forceful gestures. He stopped and
frowned at the interruption; but his frown changed to a smile as he
held out his hand.
He opened with what, as a chess player, I may call the lie gambit.
"I have been endeavouring to cheer up Madame d'Artelle, Miss Gilmore,"
he said lightly. "I tell her she takes the postponement--or if you
like, the abandonment--of the marriage with Karl too seriously."
"Is it abandoned?" I asked.
"Did she not tell you?"
"Yes; but I could scarcely believe it, seeing how much you have counted
upon the marriage. The abandonment is a tribute to your influence.
But why have you given it up?"
"I given it up? I? What can it be to me?" he laughed. "It is not my
marriage, Miss Gilmore. I like my brother, of course, but I am not in
love with him so much as to want to marry him."
"All Pesth knows how much you love your brother," said I, drily.
"I should not come to you for testimony, I think. I am afraid it would
not be favourable. I am glad you are not the majority."
"Probably I do not know you as others do, or perhaps others do not know
you as I do. But why have you abandoned the project of the marriage?"
"You insist on putting the responsibility on me," he said with a touch
of irritation beneath his laugh.
"I can understand that the question is awkward."
"Not in the least. You see, you raised most unexpectedly the point
about the admirable and excellent gentleman who was Madame's husband;
and it must perforce be postponed until the proofs of his death are
forthcoming. Thus it is rather your doing than mine;" and he shrugged
his shoulders.
"You have found them more difficult to manufacture than you
anticipated, I presume?"
"That is a very serious charge, very lightly made, Miss Gilmore." His
assumption of offence was excellent.
"I am not speaking lightly, Count Gustav. When we parted last time you
said that the proofs of the death of Madame's husband should be
produced. Within a few hours I heard that the marriage had been
postponed; you now say it was because those proofs cannot be produced.
There must be a reason for such a sudden change of front; and I have
suggested it. If you prefer, we will leave it that the proofs cannot
be found or fabricated in time to suit you."
He heard me out with darkening face, and then crossed to Madame
d'Artelle and offered her his hand.
"I think, Madame, it will be more convenient for me to leave now. With
a lady we cannot resent an insult; we can only protect ourselves from
further insult by leaving."
I laughed with ostentatiously affected hilarity, and sat down.
Madame d'Artelle gave him her hand nervously, and he turned from her
and bowed stiffly to me.
"I think I should not go, Count, if I were you," I said, smoothly.
"Your attitude makes it impossible for me to remain, Miss Gilmore."
"Of course you know best, but I should not go if I were you."
He was uneasy and hesitated; went toward the door and then paused and
turned. "If you wish to say anything to me and can do so without
insulting me, I am willing to listen to you--as a friend of Madame's;"
and he waved his hand in her direction.
"I've a great deal to say and I'm going to say it to some one. Of
course if you go, I must say it to some one else."
"And what am I to understand by that?"
"You haven't decided yet whether to go or stay. Now, I'll be much more
candid with you than you are with me. It's just a question whether you
dare go or not. Your start just now is what we Americans call putting
up a bluff. But you can't bluff me. I hold the cards--every one of
them a winning card, too. If you go, you lose the game straight away,
for I shan't be many minutes in the house after you. You're going to
lose anyhow, for that matter: but--well, as I tell you, you'd better
not go."
"I'm not versed in American slang, Miss Gilmore, and it doesn't lend
itself to translation into German," he sneered.
"Then I'll put it plainer. Go, if you dare, Count Gustav;" and I
challenged him in look as well as words.
"I am always anxious to oblige a pretty woman, Miss Gilmore," he said,
with one of his most gracious glances.
"That's very sweet of you, Count. But the question is not my looks;
it's your reputation and position."
At this point Madame d'Artelle made a diversion.
"I am not feeling well, Christabel, and am going to my room to lie
down," she said, rising.
"That's just what I would have suggested, Henrietta," I answered,
fastening on her action. "It's just as well. I have to say some
things to Count Gustav that he might not care for even you to hear."
He made a great show of opening the door for her to pass and used the
moment's delay to think.
Just as she went out the footman came to the door, carrying the parcel.
"Do you want me, Peter?" she asked.
"No, Madame, Miss Gilmore. The parcel you asked for, miss." I took it
and he went out and closed the door.
"I have resolved not to stay longer, Miss Gilmore. I would do much for
any friend of Madame's, but I cannot with self-respect suffer your
threats and insults."
I thought of a little dramatic stroke.
"One moment, Count, this parcel concerns you." I half tore the wrapper
off and handed it to him.
He would not take it, waving it away contemptuously.
"You had better take it. It is from--Sillien, Count," I said, very
deliberately.
His eyes blazed with sudden anger.
"I don't understand you," he cried; but he took it and tore off the
covering to find a blank sheet of paper.
"This is another insult. I would have you beware."
"Not an insult--a message. To have been properly dramatic this should
have been inside it--" and I held up before him the little sketch which
Gareth had made for me with such laughing earnestness.
"The message which that parcel brings is--that Colonel Katona, Gareth's
father, is here in the house waiting to see me. Now, do you wish to
go?"
The suddenness of the stroke was for the moment irresistible.
The colour fled from his face as the laughter had died from his lips.
White, tense, agitated and utterly unstrung, he stood staring at me as
if he would gladly have struck me dead.
I had every reason to be contented with my victory.