Frank Gowan lay awake for hours that night with his brain in a wild
state of excitement. The scene at the dinner, the angry face of his
father as he stood defying the baron's friends after striking the German
down, the colonel's stern interference, and his orders for Sir Robert to
go to his quarters--all troubled him in turn; then there was the idea of
his father being under arrest, and the possibility of his receiving some
punishment, all repeating themselves in a way which drove back every
prospect of sleep, weary as the lad was; while worst of all, there was
Andrew Forbes's remark about an encounter to come, and the possible
results.
It was too horrible. Suppose Sir Robert should be killed by the
fierce-looking baron! Frank turned cold, and the perspiration came in
drops upon his temples as he thought of his mother. He sat up in bed,
feeling that he ought to go to his father and beg of him to escape
anywhere so as to avoid such a terrible fate. But the next minute his
thoughts came in a less confusing way, and he knew that he could not at
that late hour get to his father's side, and that even if he could his
ideas were childish. His father would smile at him, and tell him that
they were impossible--that no man of honour could fly so as to avoid
facing his difficulties, for it would be a contemptible, cowardly act,
impossible for him to commit.
"I know--I know," groaned the boy, as he flung himself down once more.
"I couldn't have run away to escape from a fight at school. It would
have been impossible. Why didn't I learn German instead of idling about
as I have! If I had I should have known what the baron said. What
could it have been?"
The hours crept sluggishly by, and sleep still avoided him. Not that he
wished to sleep, for he wanted to think; and he thought too much, lying
gazing at his window till there was a very faint suggestion of the
coming day; when, leaving his bed, he drew the curtain a little on one
side, to see that the stars were growing paler, and low down in the east
a soft, pearly greyness in the sky just over the black-looking trees of
the Park.
It was cold at that early hour, and he shivered and crept back to bed,
thinking that his mother in the apartments of the ladies of honour was
no doubt sleeping peacefully, in utter ignorance of the terrible time of
trouble to come; and then once more he lay down to think, as others have
in their time, how weak and helpless he was in his desires to avert the
impending calamity.
"No wonder I can't sleep," he muttered; and the next moment he slept.
For nature is inexorable when the human frame needs rest, or men would
not sleep peacefully in the full knowledge that it must be their last
repose on earth.
Five minutes after, his door was softly opened, a figure glided through
the gloom to his bedside, and bent over him, like a dimly seen shadow,
to catch him by the shoulder.
"Frank! Frank! Here, quick! Wake up!"
The lad sprang back into wakefulness as suddenly as if a trigger had
been touched, and all the drowsiness with which he was now charged had
been let off.
"Yes; what's the matter? Who's there?"
"Hush! Don't make a noise. Jump up, and dress."
"Drew?"
"Yes. Be quick!"
"But what's the matter?"
"I couldn't sleep, so I got up and dressed, and opened my window to
stand looking out at the stars, till just now I heard a door across the
courtyard open, and three men in cloaks came out."
"Officers' patrol--going to visit the sentries."
"No; your father, Captain Murray, and some one else. I think it was the
doctor; he is short and stout."
"Then father's going to escape," said Frank, in an excited whisper.
"Escape! Bah!" replied Andrew, in a tone full of disgust. "How could
he as a gentleman? Can't you see what it means? They're going to a
meeting."
"A meeting?" faltered Frank.
"Oh, how dull you are! Yes, a meeting; they're going to fight!"
Frank, who had leisurely obeyed his companion's command to get up and
dress, now began to hurry his clothes on rapidly, while Andrew went on:
"I don't know how they've managed it, because your father was under
arrest; but I suppose the officers felt that there must be a meeting,
and they have quietly arranged it with the Germans. Of course it's all
on the sly. Make haste."
"Yes. I shan't be a minute. You have warned the guard of course?"
"Done what?" said Andrew.
"Given the alarm," panted Frank.
"I say, are you mad, or are you still asleep? What do you mean?"
"Mad! asleep! Do you think I don't know what I'm saying?"
"I'm sure you don't."
"Do you think I want my father to be killed?"
"Do you think your father wants to be branded as a coward? Don't be
such a foolish schoolboy. You are among men now. I wish I hadn't come
and woke you. They'll be getting it over too before I'm there."
He made a movement toward the door, but Frank seized him by the arm.
"No, no; don't go without me," he whispered imploringly.
"Why not? You'd better go to bed again. You're just like a great
girl."
"I must go with you, Drew. I'm afraid I didn't hardly know what I was
saying; but it seems so cold-blooded to know that one's own father is
going to a fight that may mean death, and not interfere to stop it."
"Interfere to stop it--may mean death! I hope it does to some one,"
whispered Andrew fiercely. "There, let go; I can't stop any longer."
"You're not going without me. There, I'm ready now."
"But I can't take you to try and interfere. I thought you'd like me to
tell you."
"Yes, I do. I must come, and--and I won't say or do anything that isn't
right."
"I can't trust you," said Andrew hastily. "It was a mistake to come and
tell you. There, let go."
"You are not going without me!" cried Frank, fiercely now; and he
grasped his companion's arm so firmly that the lad winced.
"Come on, then," he said; and, with his breath coming thick and short,
Frank followed his companion downstairs and out of the door of the old
house in the Palace precincts, into the long, low colonnade.
They closed the door softly, and ran together across the courtyard in
the dim light, but were challenged directly after by a sentry.
"Hush! Don't stop us," whispered Andrew. "You know who we are--two of
the royal pages."
"Can't pass," said the man sternly.
"But we must," said Frank, in an agonised whisper. "Here, take this."
"Can't pass," said the man; "'gainst orders. You must come to the
guardroom."
But he took the coin Frank handed to him, and slipped it into his
pocket.
"We want to go to the meeting--the fight," whispered Andrew now. "We
won't own that you let us go by."
"Swear it," said the man.
"Yes, of course. Honour of gentlemen."
"Well, I dunno," said the man.
"Yes, you do. Which way did they go when they passed the gate?"
"Couldn't see," said the man; "too dark. I thought it was one of them
games. My mate yonder'll know, only he won't let you go by without the
password."
"Oh yes, he will," said Andrew excitedly. "Come on."
"Mind, I never see you go by," said the man.
"Of course you didn't," said Andrew; "and I can't see you; it's too dark
yet."
They set off running, and the next minute were at the gate opening on to
the Park, where another sentry challenged them.
"I'm Mr Frank Gowan, Captain Sir Robert Gowan's son, and this is Mr
Andrew Forbes, Prince's page."
"Yes, I know you, young gentlemen; but where's the password?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Andrew impatiently. "Don't stop us, or they'll
get it over before we're there. Look here; come to our rooms any time
to-day, and ask for us. We'll give you a guinea to let us go."
"I dursn't," said the man, in a whisper.
"Which way did they go?" said Frank, trembling now with anxiety.
"Strite acrost under the trees there. They've gone to the bit of a wood
down by the water."
"Yes; that's a retired spot," panted Andrew. "Here, let's go on."
"Can't, sir, and I darn't. It's a jewel, aren't it?"
"Yes, a duel."
"Well, I'm not going to be flogged or shot for the sake of a guinea,
young gentlemen, and I won't. But if you two makes a roosh by while I
go into my sentry-box, it aren't no fault o' mine."
He turned from them, marched to his little upright box, and entered it,
while before he could turn the two lads were dashing through the gate,
and directly after were beneath the trees.
It was rapidly growing lighter now; but the boys saw nothing of the
lovely pearly dawn and the soft wreaths of mist which floated over the
water. The birds were beginning to chirp and whistle, and as they ran
on blackbird after blackbird started from the low shrubs, uttering the
chinking alarm note, and flew onward like a velvet streak on the soft
morning glow.
In a minute or so they had reached the water-side, and stopped to
listen; but they could hear nothing but the gabbling and quacking of the
water-fowl.
"Too late--too late!" groaned Frank. "Which way shall we go?"
"Left," said Andrew shortly. "Sure to go farther away."
They started again, running now on the grass, and as they went on step
for step:
"Mayn't have begun yet," panted Andrew. "Sure to take time preparing
first.--There, hark!"
For from beneath a clump of trees, a couple of hundred yards in front,
there was an indistinct sound which might have meant anything. This the
boys attributed to the grinding together of swords, and hurried on.
Before they had gone twenty yards, though, it stopped; and as all
remained silent after they had gone on a short distance farther, the
pair stopped, too, and listened.
"Going wrong," said Frank despairingly.
"No. Right," whispered Andrew, grasping his companion's arm; for a low
voice in amongst the trees gave what sounded like an order, and directly
after there was a sharp click as of steel striking against steel,
followed by a grating, grinding sound, as of blade passing over blade.
Frank made a rush forward over the wet grass, disengaging his arm as he
did so; but Andrew bounded after him, and flung his arms about his
shoulders.
"Stop!" he whispered. "You're not going on if you are going to
interfere."
"Let go!" said Frank, in a choking voice. "I'm not going to interfere.
I am going to try and act like a man."
"Honour?"
"Honour!" and once more they ran on, to reach the trees and thread their
way through to where a couple of groups of gentlemen stood in a grassy
opening, looking on while two others, stripped to shirt and breeches,
were at thrust and parry, as if the world must be rid of one of them
before they had done.
As Frank saw that one was his father--slight, well-knit, and agile--and
the other--heavy, massively built, and powerful--the Baron Steinberg,
the desire was strong to rush between them; but the power was wanting,
and he stood as if fixed to the spot, staring with starting eyes at the
rapid exchanges made, for each was a good swordsman, well skilled in
attack and defence, while the blades, as they grated edge to edge and
played here and there, flashed in the morning light; and as if in utter
mockery of the scene, a bird uttered its sweet song to the coming day.
There were moments when, as the German's blade flashed dangerously near
Sir Robert's breast, Frank longed to close his eyes, but they were
fixed, and with shuddering emotion he followed every movement, feeling a
pang as a deadly thrust was delivered, drawing breath again as he saw it
parried.
For quite a minute the baron kept up a fierce attack in this, the second
encounter since they had begun, but every thrust was turned aside, and
at last, as if by one consent, the combatants drew back a step or two
with their breasts heaving, and, without taking their eyes off each
other, stood carefully re-rolling up their shirt sleeves over their
white muscular arms.
And now a low whispering went on among the officers, German and English,
who were present, and Andrew said softly in Frank's ear:
"Don't move--don't make a sign. It might unsettle Sir Robert if he knew
you were here."
Frank felt that this was true, and with his heart beating as if it would
break from his chest he stood watching his father, noting that his
breathing was growing more easy, and that he was, though his face was
wet with perspiration, less exhausted than his adversary, whose face
appeared drawn with hate and rage as he glared at the English captain.
Suddenly Captain Murray broke the silence by saying aloud to the German
officers:
"We are of opinion, gentlemen, that only one more encounter, the third,
should take place. This should decide."
"Tell them not to interfere," said Steinberg fiercely, but without
taking his eyes off his adversary. Then in French, with a very peculiar
accent, he cried, "_En garde_!" and stepped forward to cross swords with
Sir Robert once more.
The latter advanced at the same moment, and the blades clicked and
grated slightly, as their holders stood motionless, ready to attack or
defend as the case might be.
For nearly half a minute they stood motionless, eye fixed on eye, each
ready to bring to bear his utmost skill, for, from the first the German
had fought with a vindictive rage which plainly showed that he was
determined to disable, if he did not slay, his adversary; while, enraged
as he had been, there was, after some hours of sleep, no such desire on
the part of Sir Robert. He desired to wound his enemy, but that was
all; and as he at the first engagement realised the German's intentions,
he fought cautiously, confining himself principally to defence, save
when he was driven, for his own safety, to retaliate.
The seconds and those who had come as friends, at the expense of a
breach of discipline and the consequences which might follow, had
grasped this from the first; and though he had great faith in his
friend's skill, Captain Murray had been longing for an opportunity to
interfere and end the encounter. None had presented itself, and the
German officers had so coldly refused to listen to any attempt at
mediation that there was nothing for it but to let matters take their
course.
And now, as the adversaries stood motionless with their blades crossed,
Sir Robert's friends felt to a man, as skilled fencers, that the time
had arrived for him to take the initiative, press his adversary home,
and end the duel by wounding him.
But Sir Robert still stood on his guard, the feeling in his breast
being--in spite of the terrible provocation he had received--that he had
done wrong in striking his colonel's guest, and he kept cool and
clear-headed, resolved not to attack.
Then, all at once, by an almost imperceptible movement of the wrist, the
baron made his sword blade play about his enemy's, laying himself open
to attack, to tempt his adversary to begin.
Twice over he placed himself at so great a disadvantage that it would
have been easy for Sir Robert to have delivered dangerous thrusts; but
the opportunities were declined, for the English captain's mind was made
up, and Frank heard an impatient word from Murray's lips, while Andrew
uttered a loud sigh.
Then, quick as lightning, the baron resumed his old tactics, sending in
thrust after thrust with all the skill he could command. His blade
quivered and bent, and seemed to lick that of Sir Robert like a lambent
tongue of fire; and Frank felt ready to choke, as he, with Andrew,
unable to control their excitement, crept nearer and nearer to the
actors in the terrible life drama, till they were close behind Captain
Murray and the other English officers, hearing their hard breathing and
the short, sharp gasps they uttered as some fierce thrust was made which
seemed to have gone home.
But no: giving way very slightly, in spite of the fashion in which he
was pressed by the German, Sir Robert turned every thrust aside; and had
he taken advantage of his opportunities, he could have again and again
laid the baron at his feet, but not in the way he wished, for his desire
now was to inflict such a wound as would merely place his enemy _hors de
combat_.
A murmur now arose amongst the Englishmen, for the affair was becoming
murderous on one side. But the German officers looked on stolidly, each
with his left hand resting upon the hilt of his sword, as if ready to
resent any interference with the principals in a deadly way.
There was no hope of combination there to end the encounter, and once
more Captain Murray and his friends waited for Sir Robert to terminate
the fight, as they now felt that he could at any time.
For, enraged by the way in which he was being baffled by the superior
skill of his adversary, the baron's attack was growing wild as well as
fierce; and, savagely determined to end all by a furious onslaught, he
made a series of quick feints, letting his point play about Sir Robert's
breast, and then, quick as lightning, lunged with such terrible force
that Frank uttered a faint cry. His father heard it, and though he
parried that thrust, it was so nervously that he was partly off his
guard with that which followed, the result being that a red line
suddenly sprang into sight from just above his wrist, nearly to his
elbow, and from which the blood began to flow.
A cry of "Halt!" came from Captain Murray and his friends, and this was
answered by a guttural roar from the baron, while, as the former, as
second, stepped forward to beat down the adversaries' swords, the German
officers at once drew their weapons, not to support the baron's second,
but as a menace.
It was all almost momentary, and while it went on the baron, inspired by
the sight of the blood, pressed forward, thrusting rapidly, feeling that
the day was his own.
But that strong British arm, though wounded, grasped the hilt of Sir
Robert's blade as rigidly as if it were of the same metal; and as the
baron lunged for what he intended for his final thrust, he thoroughly
achieved his object, but not exactly as he meant. His sword point was
within an inch of Sir Robert's side, when a quick beat in octave sent it
spinning from his hand, while at the same instant, and before the flying
sword had reached the ground, Sir Robert's blade had passed completely
through his adversary's body.
The German officers rushed forward, not to assist their fallen leader,
but, sword in hand, evidently to avenge his fall, so taking the
Englishmen by surprise that, save Sir Robert's second, neither had time
to draw.
It would have gone hard with them, but, to the surprise of all, there
was a short, sharp order, and an officer and a dozen of the Guards
dashed out of the clump of trees which sheltered the duellists, to
arrest the whole party for brawling within the Palace precincts.