FOILED.
For a moment Helene stood irresolute, unable to realise her
position. Then the nearness of the fierce Dardanians and the still
more terrible doctor occurred to her, and she walked away with
tottering steps. Fear drove her on, for even when she had plunged into
the wood, she thought she heard the bushes crackling behind her, and
she could not feel safe until she came upon Jakob once more. The quiet
glade, with the old man still snoring peacefully under his tree,
seemed a haven of refuge, and she staggered towards him, her knees
knocking together, and collapsed helplessly on the ground. The gasping
sobs which she could not repress awoke Jakob, who was much concerned
to find her in such a state. She would not tell him what had alarmed
her, and as Jakob was firmly under the impression that he had only
dozed off for a second or two, he attributed her fright to a snake,
and expended much energy in beating about among the tree-roots and
last year’s dead leaves with a stick. He found nothing, naturally, and
seeing that Helene was quite incapable of going on with her sketch,
suggested that they should return to the inn, lest Hannele should
scold him for allowing her Highness to sit on the ground. There were
unmistakable marks of mould on Helene’s linen skirt, which meant a
cross-examination from Hannele, and in desperation she stood up,
supporting herself against a tree, while Jakob removed the stains as
well as he could with his handkerchief and the water he had carried
for her painting.
“There, Highness!” he said at last, looking up with honest pride. “It
will dry before we reach home, and Hannele will be none the wiser.”
“Thanks, Jakob,” his mistress answered absently. “Do you know whether
the two English gentlemen who were on the terrace this morning are
staying another night?”
“Their horses were being saddled when we started, Highness,” replied
Jakob, with placid indifference. “There is nothing to see at Drinitza
except the river-cave, so why should they stay?”
Helene’s heart sank. For a moment the wild idea of rescuing Cyril
immediately had occurred to her. Usk was away, and William with him,
but surely those two Englishmen might be depended upon to help another
Englishman? Now that hope was gone; and with deeper sinking of heart
she remembered that the Chevalier had started on one of his periodical
journeys to Vindobona, so that it would be no use to send in to
Novigrad. There was the landlord, at any rate, an old soldier, and
there were two or three men employed about the inn, and several strong
fellows in the village, and there was Jakob, who might be trusted to
follow her leading--but was it right, was it even prudent, to oppose
these men, practically unarmed, to the Dardanians, each of whom was a
kind of walking arsenal? She turned the matter over in her mind as
they walked back to the inn, and at last decided to lay it before the
landlord, and see what he thought. But disappointment was awaiting her
when she arrived, for the landlord had gone into Novigrad for the day.
This last blow was too much for Helene, and she resigned herself
meekly into the hands of Hannele, who had brooded over her mistress’s
sharp words all the time of her absence, and now had the additional
grievance of her evident exhaustion to gratify her. She took
peremptory possession of Helene, removed her gown and shoes, fed her
with soup, and made her lie down, scolding all the time, and having
adjured her to go to sleep, went away to scold Jakob.
Helene had yielded to her ministrations and reproaches because she had
no spirit to resist; but the moment the door had closed behind the
maid her head started up from the pillow. She could not think properly
lying down, and that great guarded house in the forest seemed to be
crying out to her to do something. What should she do? what could she
do? The memory of that helpless prisoner, who did not even realise
that he was in prison, drew her back to the Pelenko mansion as though
with cords. If only she had made herself known to him, spoken to him
in English, addressed him by his own name, surely recollection would
have returned to the dulled brain? And she had remained speechless,
not uttering a word, terror and astonishment holding her so fast in
their grip that she had made no use whatever of this tremendous
opportunity! How could she meet Usk and Mr Hicks, who had dared so
much for Cyril’s rescue without result, if she had to confess to them
that she had been face to face with him and had not even spoken?
The thought was intolerable, and in a moment she was out of bed and
throwing on the pink cotton gown which Hannele had finished mending,
and had left prominently on the back of a chair as if to reproach her.
Too much engrossed in her quest to think of her own dignity, she crept
down the stairs with her shoes in her hand, and once safely past the
room in which she could hear Hannele’s voice rating Jakob, put them
on, and turned into the path which led up the hill. At the summit she
paused, breathless, and put on her gloves. There was absolutely no
reason why she should feel so frightened, as if she were doing
something dreadful. Why should she not go out for a walk alone if she
chose? She was an Englishwoman now, and Usk had often laughed at her
because she disliked to go down the street without Hannele or Jakob in
attendance. She was simply taking an afternoon walk, and what possible
objection could there be to her going round by the Pelenko mansion?
She did not even know that she should try to obtain entrance to the
grounds--certainly not by that dreadful corner, which the Dardanian
who had watched her must know well, if Cyril did not--but it might
save time later if she walked round the place and looked carefully to
see if there was any other way of getting in. As if to emphasise to
herself the perfect propriety and openness of her intentions, she did
not take the usual way through the forest, but went straight down to
the high road, and walked along it in a westerly direction until she
could see the battered chimneys of the house rising above the
encircling trees. She shivered as she turned into the rugged lane,
miscalled a road, which led up to the gates, and her eyes sought
narrowly among the undergrowth on either hand for the brightness and
glitter of the Dardanian dress. There seemed to be no one lying in
wait just here, however, and she went on to the gates, which had
always been fast shut when Usk and she had caught a glimpse of them
hitherto. A gasp of astonishment broke from her when she reached them.
On this day, of all days, they were open, as if to invite her to
enter.
“It is a miracle!” thought Helene reverently; “a sign, perhaps, that
the good God will allow me to do something to help the dear Count,”
and with a prayer on her lips she passed fearlessly in. The drive
which led through the thick shrubbery was as rough and full of ruts as
the lane outside--nay, the shrubbery was encroaching upon it, for
bushes were springing up among the weeds which concealed the gravel.
As she neared the house, however, she heard the pawing of impatient
horses, and thought it prudent to creep into the wood. Reaching the
end of the drive, and peeping through the branches, she saw to her
amazement a carriage, laden with luggage, standing before the door.
Several of the Dardanians were at work adjusting the various packages,
and others were lounging about in front of the house. Presently Cyril
appeared on the steps, and for one moment she thought he had seen her,
for his eyes seemed to meet hers, but he turned to send his servant
back for something, and, without looking at her, began to wave and
twist his hands about in a way that appeared to her woefully aimless
and imbecile. Apparently impatient of the delay, he entered the
carriage after a moment or two, and drawing up the window nearest her,
proceeded to trace figures of some sort listlessly upon the glass with
his finger. To Helene, as she watched, it looked as if he had written
the word “Not,” but she could not be sure, since she naturally saw it
backwards, as if reflected in a mirror. Before he could get any
further, Dr Gregorescu came quickly down the steps, and apologising
for being late, stepped into the carriage. Helene watched breathlessly
to see what would happen next; but just as one of the Dardanians
mounted the box, something was flung over her from behind, and she
felt herself pulled down among the bushes.
It was no use to struggle, and she could not cry out. She was held
down firmly, and the cloak, or whatever the covering might be, was
pressed tightly over her face. She had almost lost consciousness when
the pressure was relaxed, and she lay helpless and motionless until
she felt some one shaking her by the shoulder, and heard a voice
speaking in an unknown tongue. She looked up into the sunken eyes of
an old woman, who was holding in one hand the rough woollen cloak
which had served as a gag. The stranger was blaming her for venturing
into such a place, Helene gathered, and warning her that if she had
been discovered, her life would have been the forfeit. Realising the
old woman’s meaning, she remembered suddenly all that had passed, and
springing up, she peered through the bushes again. The carriage and
its attendants were gone, and the crushed weeds in the drive showed
where it had passed. She turned to run after it, but the old woman
caught her by the arm, and intimated by signs that it was travelling
so fast she would never catch it. Resorting to signs in her turn,
Helene did her best to inquire whether the old woman could take her by
a short cut through the forest to the road, that she might see what
direction the carriage was taking, but the old woman expressed the
most lively fear at the prospect, moderating her gestures, however,
when she saw Helene put her hand into her pocket. It was not often
that the girl carried a purse, for there was nothing to buy at
Drinitza, and she rather liked making Usk pay everything for her when
they went into Novigrad, but it was well to have a little loose change
at hand ready for going into the village, on account of the beggars.
If the beggars were not duly noticed and relieved, they were apt to
curse the passer-by, and Helene had a nervous dislike of being cursed.
Her purse happened fortunately to be in the pocket of the pink gown,
and she emptied the store of small coins it contained into the old
woman’s hand, with the result that the owner grinned widely, and made
signs indicative of her willingness to start at once.
They crept down the drive again, and once outside the gate, plunged
into the forest to the right, avoiding the lane, and very soon found
themselves mounting a steep slope. This part of the woods Helene had
not explored with Usk, and she was therefore obliged to rely entirely
on the old woman, who hobbled along, helping herself up the steepest
places by clutching at the bushes, with wonderful agility. On they
went, now up and now down, through such mazes of forest that Helene
decided she must come back by the road, or she would never be able to
find her way home by herself. Moreover, as the first excitement of the
chase died down, she became conscious that she had gone through a good
deal since first starting out that morning, and that her limbs,
shaking with fatigue and agitation, would scarcely carry her. But she
struggled on bravely, and at last the old woman stopped on the very
brink of what seemed to be a wooded cliff, and pointing straight
downwards, said something which Helene took to mean that the road was
there.
The declivity was not quite so steep as it looked, but Helene soon
found that it was impossible to walk down it. The only plan was to run
whenever a clear space appeared, bringing up against a friendly tree
when she was out of breath, and then picking her way slowly from one
trunk to another. It was natural that she should run faster than the
old woman, and therefore it did not surprise her to find herself in
front; but when she reached the foot of the cliff, and discovered that
her companion had not followed her, and she was all alone, it struck
her that she had been rather shabbily treated. She sat down,
thankfully enough, upon a fallen tree, keeping in the shade so that
her light dress might not attract attention, and with her eyes fixed
upon the stretch of road to the left, waited patiently. This was a
part of the road that she and Usk had never reached, even in their
drives, and she felt sure that she must be a good deal in advance of
the carriage, which had to follow the many windings necessary for the
maintenance of a comparatively slight gradient. For a time she was so
glad to rest that she thought of nothing but the relief to her tired
feet, but after a while it occurred to her that the afternoon was
wearing away, and that she had a very long distance to walk home.
Moreover, the road was lonely. Not a creature had passed while she sat
on the log, and there was no sign of a human habitation anywhere. The
best plan would certainly be to walk back towards Drinitza, and so
meet the mysterious carriage. On that quiet road she would hear it
coming a long way off, and be able to hide in the wood until it had
passed. Or perhaps it might not pass at all--which was a contingency
that had not occurred to her before--but in that case she would know
that it had taken the only other direction possible, the road leading
to Klotsch, so that her walk would not have been in vain.
Rising from the log, she turned to the left, in the direction, as she
had never doubted, of Drinitza, and set out boldly along the road.
Before she had gone far, however, it struck her that the sun, now
approaching its setting, should have been behind her, instead of which
it was in front.
“How stupid I am!” she said wearily, beginning to retrace her steps.
“My head is so confused that I was actually going the wrong way. And
yet I don’t see how--but it’s no good trying to work it out now. I
must simply go on.”
On and on she went, still without recognising any familiar landmark,
until she was too tired to look at anything but the long white ribbon
of road which seemed to unfold itself endlessly before her. At last
the growing dusk made her lift her eyes to the sky again, and there
was the sun, now sinking behind the hills, in front of her once more!
The truth flashed upon her. The unfamiliar scenery was accounted for.
She had been right at first, but at that point the road doubled back
upon itself, in order to skirt the base of the cliff she had
descended, so that for a little while its direction was actually west
instead of east. But at the end of the turn she would have found
herself looking eastwards again, whereas now she had been walking away
from home with every step she took.
For the moment Helene was overwhelmed. She could never walk back to
Drinitza now, she knew, and she was utterly alone, in a district which
did not seem to possess a single inhabitant. Tired and cold, and faint
with hunger, she sat down by the roadside and cried weakly. Unless
another miracle occurred to help her, she must spend the night where
she was, and even in the morning Usk would have no means of knowing
where to look for her. But again she saw a miracle in what followed
close upon the despairing little prayer she sent up. From the forest
behind her came the lively sound of ungreased waggon-wheels, faint at
first in the distance, but gradually increasing in nearness and
excruciating distinctness. A vehicle of some kind was jolting over a
rough forest-track, and presently she could hear the ejaculations
addressed by the driver to his oxen. So comforting was the knowledge
that a fellow-creature was at hand, that she ran forward impulsively
as the heads of the oxen appeared, but the driver was far too busy to
notice her until he had safely manœuvred his team and the long rough
waggon, laden with wood, from the side-track into the main road. Then
he seemed suddenly to become aware that he had heard a human voice,
and he looked down from his stately height--he was a huge
Dardanian--to see a little pale girl, in dusty and draggled European
dress, weeping bitterly, and sobbing forth entreaties in two or three
languages. It was well for Helene that her giant was better-tempered
than giants are generally supposed to be, and kind-hearted as well,
for although he could not understand either French, German, or
English, and shook his head vigorously when she tried to explain that
she wanted to get back to Drinitza, he offered her a seat on the wood
in his waggon, and actually lifted her up there when she hesitated.
She made no further opposition after that. Where he might be taking
her, she had no idea, but presumably it was to his home, and possibly
to some place where she might find the means of communicating with
Usk.
The oxen tramped on patiently, and the waggon began to jolt again as
the road became worse, but Helene dozed spasmodically on her rough
couch. It was not until the waggon came to a standstill that she
really awoke, to find herself in the one street of a little Dardanian
frontier village, the white walls and dark roofs of which were
glorious in the after-glow of sunset, and made a kind of theatrical
background for the gigantic men and strapping women in red and blue
and gold-embroidered white garments who were crowding round to hear of
the strange adventure which had happened to Petros. Before Helene was
fairly awake, the smallest man in the crowd asked her in broken German
for her papers, and it was evident that a bad impression was produced
by her confession that she had none. The small man had something to do
with the customs, apparently, for she gathered from the
cross-examination which followed that he suspected her of smuggling,
though it was not clear what she had to smuggle, with the exception of
her worn and weary self. Moreover, he fastened upon her statement that
her husband was English as his own excuse for not understanding her
German, and they argued at cross-purposes for some time, while the
listening villagers made remarks that were evidently uncomplimentary
in their nature. To Helene’s horror, he succeeded at last in making it
plain that she would be detained for the night as a suspicious
character in the hut in which the customs business was carried on; and
already she saw herself led to prison before the eyes of the crowd of
curious villagers, and locked up hungry and tired, and, above all,
alone. In despair, she turned to the tallest man in the crowd, who
also seemed to hold some position of authority, and fortunately
remembering the word used by the Dardanians to designate their ruler,
did her best to explain that the Prince was her cousin, and would hold
the villagers responsible for their treatment of her. She could not be
sure that she was really understood, but the people seemed to be
impressed, and the tall man and the small man consulted together.
Presently she distinguished a sound sufficiently like the Illyrian
word for “telegraph” to assure her that they were talking of
telegraphing somewhere for directions, and she seized upon the
proposal with almost hysterical joy.
“Oh, let me telegraph to my husband!” she cried to the little man,
“and just let me rest somewhere till he comes, and he will pay
anything you like.”
Whether the mention of payment stimulated the official wits, or
whether the man was afraid of getting into trouble through over-zeal,
he appeared to understand and approve of the suggestion. The big man
lifted Helene down from the waggon as if she had been a baby, and
after she had thanked the driver for his kindness, the scene changed
to the post-office, of which the big man was in charge. Here a fresh
difficulty occurred, for Helene had no money, and the simplicity of
modern dress precluded her from resorting to the time-honoured
expedient of offering jewellery in pledge. She had not even a watch
with her, and the postmaster became stern and implacable once more.
The little man came to the rescue by pointing out that she had a gold
ring on her finger, but she pleaded so piteously that she could not
give up her wedding-ring, that matters were at a deadlock again. Then
the postmaster, apparently prompted by his handsome, slipshod wife,
proposed a compromise. He would send the telegram, and wait for the
payment until the morning; but Helene and the ring must remain in
pawn, so to speak, since she would not be separated from it. She
should spend the night in the post-office, which was a lean-to
attached to his own house, and could only be entered through the room
in which he and his family slept; and if there was no answer to the
telegram in the morning, the ring must be given up. There were few
things to which Helene would not have agreed at that moment, and she
wrote out the telegram, surrounded by the eager and curious circle of
villagers, all bristling with weapons. She wrote it in German, as the
customs-officer’s help would enable the postmaster to make it less
unintelligible in that language than in French or English; and when
the whole assembly had looked at it wisely, heard it translated and
explained, and discussed the meaning, it was allowed to be sent. When,
after a good deal of squabbling between the postmaster and the
customs-officer over the spelling of the words, the message had at
last been despatched, Helene, who had been upheld by her anxiety so
far, staggered forward, and clutching feebly at the office-desk,
slipped to the floor. Instantly the postmaster’s wife, who seemed to
have been severely repressed hitherto by her husband, took possession
of her, and ordered the other villagers out of the room. It was clear
she was saying that whoever the girl might be, she was faint and
exhausted, and should not be tormented any more by stupid
unsympathetic men. Even this good Samaritan could not provide a softer
couch than the bench which ran along one end of the room, but she
brought a sheepskin as a coverlid and a rolled-up apron for a pillow,
and a frugal meal of black bread and milkless tea. She was so
obviously sympathetic and compassionate that Helene kissed her
impulsively as she covered her up, and the Dardanian woman smiled
broadly as she kissed her in return, and patted her shoulder with a
friendly hand as she bade her sleep well and not be frightened.
The inhabitants of this primitive village appeared all to retire to
rest as soon as darkness came on, so that Helene had enjoyed a long,
dreamless sleep when a furious knocking at the outer door aroused the
household, although dawn was only just breaking. The postmaster was
disinclined to rise, thinking that some impatient neighbour had come
early to inquire for a letter, and that the labours of the department
would be appreciably increased if such proceedings were to be allowed.
But the knocking continued, and a voice shouted something threatening
in an unknown tongue, which was emphasised by vigorous kicks at the
door, and the postmaster’s wife suddenly shrieked a malediction at
him.
“Fool! pig!” she screamed. “Can’t you hear? It is the little white
lady’s husband. Let him in this minute.”
The postmaster obeyed, not forgetting to don his beltful of weapons
before he opened the door; and it was with a huge revolver in his hand
that he confronted the young man who entered with a hasty step, but
recoiled abruptly when he met the intent gaze of the rest of the
family, peering at him over their sheepskin coverlids.
“Where is my wife?” he demanded, holding out a telegram to the
postmaster, then began a hasty apology; but the postmaster saw no need
for shyness. Striding to the door of the office, he threw it open, and
bowing to Usk, invited him to enter, while the wife and children sat
up in bed, their eyes bright with interest. A moment later, when Usk
was sitting on the bench beside Helene, holding her in his arms, and
alternately kissing and scolding her, while she laughed and cried at
once, a murmur of excited admiration drew their attention to the door,
where they beheld the whole family gazing at them open-mouthed.
“Oh, shut the door!” cried Helene hysterically. “The whole village
will be here in a moment, as they were last night. Oh, Nym, how white
you look!”
“Considering that we have been riding all night, you can scarcely
expect us to look very blooming. I think you’ve hurried us here on
false pretences, Nell. We couldn’t make head or tail of your telegram,
but we gathered that you were in dire distress, so Hicks and I, with
the landlord and Jakob, mounted and rode to your rescue at once, with
William driving the buggy. We had an awful time of it in the dark, but
we kept on; and now I find you comfortably asleep, and able to
criticise our looks. Do you think that shows proper gratitude, Lady
Usk?”
“You mustn’t criticise mine,” laughed Helene unsteadily, as she stood
up with difficulty, a forlorn little figure with tumbled hair and
dark-ringed eyes. “Oh, it was so dreadful, Nym! They nearly made me
give them my wedding-ring to pay for the telegram. But they were very
kind afterwards, and it’s all right now.”
“Well, suppose you put yourself to rights a bit. Hicks is seeing after
breakfast. Will a pocket-comb be of any service to you? And when you
feel quite equal to it--not before, mind, by any means--I should be
interested to know what got you into this fix.”
Helene, tugging at her hair with the comb, stopped suddenly, and
turned upon him a face full of horror. “Nym, I had forgotten it for
the moment, but it is almost as bad as the worst we have imagined. I
have seen the dear Count twice, and he didn’t know me. He is--mad.”
“Do you mean that he’s anywhere here?” cried Usk, springing up.
“No; I lost him again. It was in trying to trace him that I came to
this place. He is under the care of a dreadful doctor, who has a
number of Dardanians to keep guard over him, and he thinks he is
Prince Shishman Pelenko, and that people are plotting against his
life.”
“Be quick with your hair,” said Usk, “and you can tell Hicks
everything at the same time as me. He may think of something that
ought to be done at once.”
But when Helene told the story of her doings the day before at the
open-air breakfast table, Mr Hicks was as much at a loss as Usk to
know what to do next, and sat silent and meditative, even while
devouring his food at his usual speed. His experience as a
war-correspondent had taught him never to neglect the chance of a good
meal, and his skill in foraging had succeeded in providing one even in
this unpromising spot. The table, which he had requisitioned from the
custom-house, was placed in the open space in front of the
post-office, the only flat piece of ground in the whole village,
apparently, and the villagers stood round and watched the meal with
much interest. When it was over, Usk held an open-air court of
justice, and prompted by Helene, paid the postmaster for the telegram,
and his wife for the night’s lodging--much to her distress, for she
would only accept the money to buy something for her children. Petros
the waggoner was less diffident, and received his silver with pride,
saying he would give it to his sweetheart to sew on her cap; and the
customs-officer was so anxious to press his own claims to a reward
that Usk at last yielded, advising him to buy a German dictionary.
When this was settled, the horses were brought out again, and the
visitors departed, their hosts speeding them on their way with a
_feu-de-joie_ of revolver-shots, which was gratifying, if a little
alarming. Usk was driving Helene in the buggy, and presently Mr Hicks
rode up close beside them.
“Lady Usk,” he said, “there’s a question or two I’d like to have you
answer if you don’t mind. You said Count Mortimer was moving his hands
in a queer sort of a way when he stood on the doorstep. Can you show
me just how he did it?”
“Something like this,” said Helene, imitating the movements as well as
she could remember them.
“Is that so?” asked Mr Hicks, and nodded gravely.
“What is it?” asked Helene, alarmed by his tone.
“The deaf-and-dumb alphabet, I guess, and he’s no more lost his mind
than you and I have.”
“But he didn’t know me in the least. He could not be in his right
mind.”
“That’s just his smartness, you bet. He made out to disarm the
suspicions of the folks that have him in charge by pretending not to
recognise you.”
“Oh, and I didn’t know the alphabet, and now we have lost him again!”
cried Helene. “It’s all my fault. He was trying to tell me something.
Oh, if I had only known!” and she burst into tears. “Perhaps we shall
never see him again.”
Mr Hicks was thinking deeply. “I guess I’ll ride on ahead,” he said to
Usk. “I don’t see but the notion that’s just come to me may be right.
We know the carriage didn’t pass along this road, and I’ll go on to
Klotsch, and see if it passed there. If not, I’ll get another horse
and ride to Novigrad all I’m worth, and have them give me a warrant,
or police permit, or whatever they call it, to search the Pelenko
house. For if the carriage has not been seen on the road, it seems
clear to me that it just waited around in the woods somewhere while
Lady Usk was got out of the way, and then went right back to the
house. And if the Count is there yet, why----”
“Underground!” cried Helene. “He began to speak of passages, or
something of that kind.”
“We’ll see. I’ll ride on, anyway.”
But Mr Hicks’s haste was in vain. Police assistance was obtained, and
the Pelenko mansion duly searched, the old servants left in charge
showing even the subterranean rooms, which had been constructed in
Roumi days as a refuge in case of need. They knew that the foreign
doctor, and the mad gentleman who imagined himself to be Prince
Shishman, and the Dardanian servants, had all left the day before, but
they could not say where they had gone. They had travelled in their
own carriage, but no one had seen it on the road. The mystery was as
deep as ever.