"In faith, I've done a very foolish thing," reflected the young
Irishman, as he entered his dormitory, and flung himself into a chair.
"Still there was no help for it. Such talk as that, even from a
stranger like Dick Swinton, would play the deuce with me. Of course
they don't know him here; and he appears to be playing a great part
among them; no doubt plucking such half-fledged pigeons as those with
him below.
"Very likely he said something of the same to the girl's mother--to
herself? Perhaps that's why I've been treated so uncourteously! Well,
I have him on the hip now; and shall make him repent his incautious
speeches. Kicked out of the British service! Lying cur, to have said
it! To have thought of such a thing! And from what I've heard it's but
a leaf from his own history! This may have suggested it. I don't
believe he's any longer in the Guards: else what should he be doing out
here? Guardsmen don't leave London and its delights without strong, and
generally disagreeable, reasons. I'd lay all I've got he's been
disgraced. He was on the edge of it when I last heard of him.
"He'll fight of course? He wouldn't if he could help it--I know the
sweep well enough for that. But I've given him no chance to get out of
it. A kid glove across the face, to say nothing of a threat to spit in
it--with a score of strange gentlemen looking on and listening! If ten
times the poltroon he is, he dare not show the white feather now.
"Of course he'll call me out; and what am I to do for a second? The
three or four fellows I've scraped companionship with here are not the
men--one of them. Besides, none of them might care to oblige me on such
short acquaintance?
"What the deuce am I to do? Telegraph to the Count?" he continued,
after a pause spent in reflecting. "He's in New York, I know; and know
he would come on at once. It's just the sort of thing would delight the
_vieux sabreur_, now that the Mexican affair is ended, and he's once
more compelled to sheathe his revolutionary sword. Come in! Who the
deuce knocks at a gentleman's door at this unceremonious hour?"
It was not yet 5 a.m. Outside the hotel could be heard carriage wheels
rolling off with late roisterers, who had outstayed the ball.
"Surely it's too soon for an emissary from Swinton? Come in!"
The door opening at the summons, discovered the night-porter of the
hotel.
"Well! what want you, my man?"
"A gentleman wants _you_, sir."
"Show him up!"
"He told me, sir, to give you his apologies for disturbing you at so
early an hour. It's because his business is very important."
"Bosh! Why need he have said that?" Dick Swinton's friend must be a
more delicate gentleman than himself!
The last speech was in soliloquy, and not to the porter.
"He said, sir," continued the latter, "that having come by the boat--"
"By the boat?"
"Yes, sir, the New York boat. She's just in."
"Yes--yes; I heard the whistle. Well?"
"That having come by the boat, he thought--he thought--"
"Confound it! my good fellow; don't stay to tell me his thoughts
secondhand. Where is he? Show him up here, and let him speak them for
himself."
"From New York?" continued Maynard, after the porter had disappeared.
"Who of the Knickerbockers can it be? And what business of such
importance as to startle a fellow from his sleep at half-past four in
the morning--supposing me to have been asleep--which luckily I'm not Is
the Empire city ablaze, and Fernando Wood, like a second Nero, fiddling
in ruthless glee over its ruins? Ha! Roseveldt?"
"Maynard!"
The tone of the exchanged salutation told of a meeting unexpected, and
after a period of separation. It was followed by a mutual embrace.
Theirs was a friendship too fervent to be satisfied with the shaking of
hands. Fellow campaigners--as friends--they had stood side by side
under the hissing hailstorm of battle. Side by side had they charged up
the difficult steep of Chapultepec, in the face of howitzers belching
forth their deadly shower of shot--side by side fallen on the crest of
the counterscarp, their blood streaming unitedly into the ditch.
They had not seen each other since. No wonder they should meet with
emotions corresponding to the scenes through which they had passed.
Some minutes passed before either could find coherent speech. They only
exchanged ejaculations. Maynard was the first to become calm.
"God bless you, my dear Count?" he said; "my grand instructor in the
science of war. How glad I am to see you!"
"Not more than I to see you, _cher camarade_!"
"But say, why are you here? I did not expect you; though strange enough
I was this moment thinking of you!"
"I'm here to see you--specially you!"
"Ah! For what, my dear Roseveldt?"
"You've said that I instructed you in the science of war. Be it so.
But the pupil now excels his teacher--has gone far beyond him in fame.
That's why I'm here."
"Explain yourself, Count!"
"Read this. It will save speech. You see it is addressed to yourself."
Maynard took the sealed letter handed to him. It bore the
superscription:
"Captain Maynard."
Breaking it open, he read:
"The committee of German refugees in New York, in view of the late news
from Europe, have hopes that freedom is not yet extinguished in their
ancient fatherland. They have determined upon once more returning to
it, and taking part in the struggle again begun in Baden and the
Palatinate. Impressed by the gallantry displayed by you in the late
Mexican war, with your protective kindness to their countrymen who
served under you--and above all, your well-known devotion to the cause
of liberty--they have unanimously resolved to offer you the leadership
in this enterprise. While aware of its perils--as also of your courage
to encounter them--they can promise you no reward save that of glory and
a nation's gratitude. To achieve this, they offer you a nation's trust.
Say, sir, are you prepared to accept it?"
Some half-dozen names were appended, at which Maynard simply glanced.
He knew the men, and had heard of the movement.
"I accept," he said, after a few seconds spent in reflection. "You can
carry that answer back to the committee."
"Carry back an answer! My dear Maynard, I come to carry _you_ back."
"Must I go directly?"
"This very day. The rising in Baden has begun, and you know revolutions
won't wait for any one. Every hour is important. You are expected back
by the next boat. I hope there's nothing to prevent it? What! There
is something?"
"There is; something rather awkward."
"Not a woman? No--no! You're too much of a soldier for that."
"No; not a woman."
As Maynard said this a strange expression came over his countenance, as
if he was struggling against the truth.
"No--no!" he continued, with a forced smile. "Not a woman. It's only a
man; indeed only a thing in the shape of one."
"Explain, captain! Who, or what is he?"
"Well, it's simply an affair. About an hour ago I slapped a fellow in
the face."
"Ha!"
"There's been a ball to-night--in the hotel, here."
"I know it. I met some of the people going away. Well?"
"There was a young lady--"
"I might have known that, too. Who ever heard of an affair without a
lady, young or old, at the bottom of it? But excuse me for interrupting
you."
"After all," said Maynard, apparently changing his tack, "I needn't stay
to tell you about the lady. She had little or nothing to do with it.
It occurred in the bar-room after the ball was over, and she in her bed,
I suppose."
"Leave her to one side then, and let her sleep."
"I had gone into this bar-room to take a drink, by way of night-cap, and
was standing by the counter, when I heard some one making rather free
use of my name. Three men were close beside me, talking in a very fast
style, and, as I soon discovered, about myself. They had been imbibing
a good deal, and did not chance to see me.
"One of the three I had known in England, when we were both in the
British service.
"The other two--Americans I suppose them--I had only seen for the first
time some two days ago. Indeed, I had then a little difficulty with
them, which I needn't stay to trouble you about now; though I more than
half expected to have had a challenge for that. It didn't come,
however; and you may guess what sort they are.
"It was my quondam acquaintance of the English army who was taking
liberties with my character, in answer to inquiries the other two were
putting to him."
"What was he telling them?"
"No end of lies; the worst of them being that I had been kicked out of
the British service! Of course it was also his last. After that--"
"After that you kicked him out of the bar-room. I fancy I can see you
engaged in that little bit of foot practice!"
"I was not quite so rude as that. I only slashed him across the cheek
with my glove, and then handed him my card.
"In truth, when you were announced I thought it was _his_ friend, and
not mine: though, knowing the man as I do, the idea of his sending a
messenger so early rather surprised me.
"I'm glad you've come, Count. I was in a devil of a dilemma--being
acquainted with nobody here who could have served me for a second. I
suppose I can reckon upon you?"
"Oh, that of course," answered the Count, with as much _insouciance_ as
if he had been only asked for a cigar. "But," he added, "is there no
way by which this meeting may be avoided?"
It was not any craven thought that dictated the interrogatory. A glance
at Count Roseveldt would have satisfied any one of this.
Full forty years of age, with moustache and whisker just beginning to
show steel-grey, of true martial bearing, he at once impressed you as a
man who had seen much practice in the terrible trade of the duello. At
the same time there was about him no air either of the bully or bravado.
On the contrary, his features were marked by an expression of
mildness--on occasions only changing to stern.
One of these changes came over them, as Maynard emphatically made
answer: "No."
"_Sacre_!" he said, hissing out a French exclamation. "How provoking!
To think such an important matter--the liberty of all Europe--should
suffer from such a paltry mischance! It has been well said that woman
is the curse of mankind!
"Have you any idea," he continued, after this ungallant speech, "when
the fellow is likely to send in?"
"Not any. Some time during the day, I take it. There can be no cause
for delay that I can think of. Heaven knows, we're near enough each
other, since both are stopping in the same hotel."
"Challenge some time during the day. Shooting, or whatever it may be,
to-morrow morning. No railway from here, and boat only once a day.
Leaves Newport at 7 p.m. A clear twenty-four hours lost! _Sac-r-re_!"
These calculations were in soliloquy; Count Roseveldt, as he made them,
torturing his great moustache, and looking at some imaginary object
between his feet Maynard remained silent.
The Count continued his _sotto voce_ speeches, now and then breaking
into ejaculations delivered in a louder tone, and indifferently in
French, English, Spanish, and German.
"By heavens, I have it?" he at length exclaimed, at the same time
starting to his feet. "I have it, Maynard! I have it?"
"What has occurred to you, my dear Count?"
"A plan to save time. We'll go back to New York by the evening's boat!"
"Not before fighting! I presume you include _that_ in your
calculations?"
"Of course I do. We'll fight, and be in time all the same."
If Maynard had been a man of delicate susceptibilities he might have
reflected on the uncertainty of such a programme.
He merely asked for its explanation.
"Perfectly simple," responded the Count. "You are to be the challenged
party, and, of course, have your choice both of time and weapons. No
matter about the weapons. It's the time that concerns us so."
"You'd bring off the affair to-day?"
"Would, and will."
"How if the challenge arrive too late--in the evening say?"
"_Carrambo_!--to use our old Mexican shibboleth--I've thought of that--
of everything. The challenge shall come early--_must_ come, if your
adversary be a gentleman. I've hit upon a plan to force it out of him
in good time."
"Your plan?"
"You'll write to him--that is, I shall--to say you are compelled to
leave Newport to-night; that a matter of grand importance has suddenly
summoned you away. Appeal to him, as a man of honour, to send in his
invitation at once, so that you may arrange a meeting. If he don't do
so, by all the laws of honour you will be free to go, at any hour you
may name."
"That will be challenging the challenger. Will it be correct?"
"Of course it will. I'll be answerable. It's altogether _en regle_--
strictly according to the code."
"I agree to it, then."
"Enough! I must set about composing the letter. Being a little out of
the common, it will require some thought. Where are your pens and ink?"
Maynard pointed to a table, on which were the writing materials.
Drawing up a chair, Roseveldt seated himself beside it.
Then, taking hold of a pen, and spreading a sheet of "cream laid" before
him, he proceeded to write the premonitory epistle, scarce consulting
the man most interested in what it might contain. Thinking of the
revolution in Baden, he was most anxious to set free his friend from the
provoking compromise, so that both might bear the flag of freedom
through his beloved fatherland.
The note was soon written; a copy carefully taken, folded up, and shoved
into an envelope. Maynard scarce allowed the opportunity of reading it!
It had to be addressed by his directions, and was sent to _Mr Richard
Swinton_, just as the great gong, screaming through the corridors of the
Ocean House, proclaimed to its guests the hour for _dejeuner a la
fourchette_.