perspicacity. "Is that how it is? Well, thank God, Schwannenwald can
always be sure that those that rally to her banner can at any rate go
properly equipped to the fight. And a brave man is none the worse when
he looks on his last florin, or takes the gold which he has earned," he
said, pressing a roll of notes on me.
"But I have not earned it," I objected.
"At any rate I think I can promise that before to-morrow morning you
will have done so." He smiled, and with a hearty grip of the hand he
waved me to the door. "To-night at ten," he said.
After a light meal I went out to make my preparations. A light rain was
falling as my hansom made its way through the crowded streets to the
quieter parts of Bloomsbury. About a hundred yards from my destination
I dismissed my cab, and walked to the square, which, owing to the rain
and the hour, was completely deserted. It was a gloomy spot, and Von
Bieberstein was nowhere to be seen. As I strolled up and down I
wondered which house was our destination. A light touch on the arm
recalled me, and turning I saw Von Bieberstein.
"I have a carriage at the corner waiting," he said, "and an hour, if
all goes well, should see the Princess on her way to safety. That is
the house yonder," he said, pointing to a gloomy-looking house on the
opposite side of the square, standing between two others whose boards
proclaimed them to be let. The house might have been as deserted as its
fellows had it not been for a faint light which gleamed through the
glass at the top of the front door. The rest of the house was in
darkness.
"The apartments in use are at the back of the house," said Von
Bieberstein at my elbow.
"How are we to get in?" I whispered.
"I have arranged all that," he said, softly. "One of Her Highness's
women has left a basement window open. We shall make our way down the
area, enter the window, and ascend the back stairs till we stand inside
that front door. You will then make your way up the main staircase till
you come to a passage; proceeding along this, you will come to a door
on the right-hand side. Enter this, and you will see what you have to
do.
"If in an hour you hear no alarm, make your way out as you came; but if
you are attacked, guard the door you entered by until I can come to you
or send assistance. There," he said, with a sigh, for he was no great
lover of long speeches, "that is all, and should anything happen to
us--well, good-bye, and remember Eagle's Nest"--this with a smile. He
gave me a hearty grip of the hand, and we made our way towards the
house.
Every thing came about as Von Bieberstein had said. Leaving our cloaks
in the area, and with naked swords in our hands, we entered the window,
and in a few minutes stood inside the door, the exterior of which I had
seen from the square. A confused murmur came from above us, and a dim
light hung from a chain above our heads. Von Bieberstein pointed with
his sword to the staircase before us, and with a nod I made my way
towards it, holding my sword tightly in my hand. It was thickly
carpeted, and my ascent was made without noise, and I soon found myself
in the passage mentioned.
The voices grew more distinct as I proceeded, until at last, when I
reached the door on the right, I could hear a word here and there. The
door itself was ajar, but no glimmer of light made its way out, so with
my heart in my mouth I quietly pushed it open and entered. I found
myself in a long narrow room with one window heavily curtained at one
end, but my attention was riveted to what I saw immediately before me.
Two heavy curtains, closely drawn together with here and there a bright
chink of light penetrating where they met, divided the room I was in
from a larger one.
Cautiously advancing towards these, I managed by applying my eye to one
of the chinks to see into the room. Round a table, brilliantly lighted
by a cluster of electric lights immediately above it, were seated half
a dozen men in court dress and wearing swords; at the head of the table
and on a seat slightly higher than the others was seated a lady, whom I
at once recognised as the companion of my lady of Felixstowe. She was
in evening dress, and a coronet of diamonds surrounded her head. She
wore several sparkling orders, prominent among which I recognised the
White Eagle of the reigning house of Schwannenwald. I looked through my
chink long and curiously at her.
[Illustration: "'TO THE HEALTH OF HER SERENE HIGHNESS,' SAID HE."]
Standing beside her chair was the equerry Von Zahn, who at that moment
was speaking.
"I think we are all agreed, gentlemen," he was saying, "that in the
troublous times that must succeed the lamented demise of His present
Majesty, the throne of Schwannenwald will have need of a clear head and
a firm ruler. Beauty is of course to be respected, but the two do not
always go together. When they are united"--and here he bowed with
respect to the Duchess--"I for my part see no reason to look further."
His words seemed to have the assent of the men at the table, with the
exception of one man who seemed about to speak. But the equerry,
evidently divining this, went on quickly.
"Her Serene Highness," he said, "who has already deigned to give us
many tokens that our humble counsels are not altogether unappreciated
by her, has chosen to-night for a final attestation of this, and
proposes to confer on the gentlemen here present the Royal Order of the
Garter of Schwannenwald. Allow me, gentlemen, to be the first to
congratulate you on this honour."
With this, he stepped to a side table and returned with a jeweller's
box and a small velvet cushion, the former of which he handed to the
Duchess. The Duchess placed her hand in the box and laid one of the
glittering orders on the cushion, which the equerry immediately bore
round to the first recipient, who, rising, fell on his knee at the
Duchess's chair, murmuring his thanks and devotion as he kissed her
hand. The same thing happened until it came to the turn of the man who
had been inclined to speak at the first. Then I noticed a shade cross
the Duchess's face, and--
"How is this, sir?" she cried angrily to the equerry. "Is Count
Heindrich to receive no order, or is this some ill-timed pleasantry on
your part?" and she held up the empty box.
"Your Highness misjudges me," answered the equerry; "the mistake is
evidently a stupid one of the jeweller's, and if I have your Highness's
permission, and that of Count Heindrich,"--and he glanced towards that
gentleman, who was now scowling freely--"I will to-morrow----"
"Nay, if that be all," broke in the Duchess, gaily, "I think I can
rectify it, at any rate for the time," and she rose from her seat and
disappeared behind a large screen. A moment later she reappeared,
holding something in her hand.
"After all, it is the giver, not the gift," she said, advancing with a
blush to Count Heindrich, "and 'twas how the order originated," and she
handed the pretty bauble to him. It was a dainty notion, cleverly
conceived and cleverly carried out, and I could see from the flush that
mantled the heavy face of the man that he was her slave from that time.
This incident had hardly terminated, when there was a knock on a door
of the room situated beyond the council table and immediately opposite
where I stood, and the equerry hastily went out, closing the door
behind him. He re-entered almost immediately, bearing a small scrap of
paper, twisted in the form of a note, which he handed to the Duchess,
who opened and read it.
"Gentlemen," she said, "I am compelled to break up the meeting, and to
ask you to retire at once, and by the usual exit."
As soon as their footsteps had died away, the Duchess rose to her feet,
and went slowly towards the wall. As she did so, the electric light in
her room was suddenly extinguished, while mine became a blaze of light,
and at the same time the heavy curtains dividing the rooms rolled wide
apart.
The Duchess regarded me for a minute with a quiet smile, then--
"Good evening, Mr. Darcy," she said; "our poor houses seem to have an
attraction for you; but may I venture to point out that private houses
in Bloomsbury are not such public property as the walks at Felixstowe.
Or perhaps," she went on, before I could open my mouth, "another trusty
sword has come to range itself under my banner," and she pointed at my
weapon.
I shook my head impatiently. "Your Highness knows well enough why I am
here," I said, sternly.
"But that is just what Her Highness does not know," she said,
petulantly. "Can it be possible you are on the other side--on
Baby-face's side?"
"I am on the side where an English gentleman ought to be," I answered,
"on the side of justice against injustice, of trust against black
deceit, and of innocence against infamy."
"For one who does not know her, you sum up my pretty cousin's virtues
very well indeed," she cried. "That is just what she is: trustful and
innocent. Ten thousand curses on her doll's face! Fancy that baby on
the throne of Schwannenwald in such times as are coming. But she shall
never have it."
At that instant the clash of steel upon steel rang through the house.
The Duchess sprang away from me as though I had pricked her with my
sword.
"Heindrich! Von Zahn!" she called, shrilly, but only the Count rushed
into the room. "That man must not escape," she cried, as she ran
quickly past him, and out of the door beyond.
But I had no intention of attempting to escape. Now, if at all, was the
time arrived when I was to earn that roll of notes which Von
Bieberstein had forced on me that morning. I had taken up my position
at the door by which I had entered, and waited sword in hand. Nor had I
long to wait. With an oath the Count sprang towards me, and as our
swords touched I knew I had to deal with an ugly customer.
[Illustration: THE DUCHESS HELD A SECRET MEETING TO SECURE THE THRONE
FOR HERSELF.]
For some few minutes we fought in silence, and indeed it was all I
could do to guard myself from the furious lunges of the Count, and
before we had been five minutes at the game I knew the man was my
master in fence, and that if I could withstand him for as long again it
would be as much as I could do. At the same instant that I recognised
this fact, I heard Von Bieberstein's voice below.
"Darcy! Darcy!" it cried, "come on, man."
But whether he called for aid or to warn me I had no means of telling,
nor did I dare take my eyes off the Count for a second.
"I am here!" I shouted, as loud as I could, but indeed it was a poor
shout at best, as I was well-nigh winded.
At that moment, and by the same trick of fence that Von Bieberstein had
used that morning, the Count disarmed me, and my weapon flew jangling
against the wall of the room. I heard a hurrying step, a revolver was
fired, so close to my ear that it well-nigh deafened me, and the Count,
his arm drawn back for the lunge that was to finish me, fell headlong
towards me.
"Run, man, for your life," I heard Von Bieberstein's voice say, "we are
safer on a volcano than here," and he started off down the passage. I
raced after him: down the staircase I tore, and through the open door.
I heard a low roar behind me, a sheet of red flame appeared before my
eyes, and I remembered no more.
It seems that, after I had left him in the house in Great Coram Square,
he had made his way to the Princess Elsa's apartments, and after some
difficulty had persuaded her to listen to him. She was on the point of
accompanying him from the house, when Von Zahn, who may or may not have
suspected something, had come upon and immediately attacked him. He
was, however, no match for his antagonist, and Von Bieberstein had,
after two minutes, passed his sword through his body. It was the clash
of their swords that had alarmed the Duchess when she was with me.
Von Bieberstein, after hastily conducting the Princess to the awaiting
carriage, had rushed back to the house for me, arriving in the nick of
time. As he had smelt burning on his second entry into the house, and
guessed that the fuse connected with the dynamite had been lighted, his
bravery in coming to my assistance can better be imagined than
described. It was a small portion of falling masonry from the front of
the house that had knocked me senseless, and indeed nearly killed me.
The Princess returned safely to Schwannenwald, but when I had nearly
recovered my health and strength, Von Bieberstein announced she was on
her way back to London again, her father having died, and had taken a
suite of apartments at L----'s Hotel, and there we also took up our
abode.
But it was not until the day following her arrival that Von Bieberstein
announced to me that Her Highness awaited my attendance on her.
She was standing by the open window when I went in (for it was late in
June), and she turned to me with a smile. "Your face is not altogether
unfamiliar to me, Mr. Darcy," she said, "but I never thought I should
be under such obligations to the owner."
[Illustration: "'I AM YOUR HIGHNESS'S MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT,' I SAID."]
"I am always your Highness's most obedient servant," I said, sinking on
my knee.
"Nay," she returned, raising me, "if that were so, we should have to
put you in livery, and the most I could do would be to let you choose
your own."
"I should choose green and tan," I said, enthusiastically.
"That would be rather bizarre for a man, would it not?" she smiled.
"I venture to think otherwise, your Highness," I rejoined.
"Nevertheless, I should not like it," she said.
"Gold is a pretty colour," said I, looking at her hair, "or blue," I
added, looking at her eyes.
A blush, a frown, a smile, chased one another across her face, but the
smile remained.
"I am afraid you are as foolish as you are brave, Mr. Darcy," she said;
"but I shall need an extra equerry, and if you would care to enter my
service permanently, the place is at your disposal."
I fell again on my knee, mumbling my acknowledgments, for indeed I had
not dared to look for so much.
There was a knock at the door, and Von Bieberstein entered.
"I have offered Mr. Darcy the position of equerry in my service," began
the Princess, "and he has consented to fill it. Will you see that the
necessary uniforms----"
"Of green and tan," I said, softly.
"What?" ejaculated Von Bieberstein.
"I ought perhaps to have said blue and gold," I answered, as I bowed my
way from the room.
Von Bieberstein looked after me anxiously, but there was a smile on the
Princess's face.
Such was the way in which I became equerry to a PRINCESS IN GREEN AND
TAN.
3,000 MILES ON RAILWAY SLEEPERS.
ONE ASPECT OF MY BICYCLE RIDE ROUND THE WORLD.
BY EDWARD LUNN.
_Illustrated with Photos by F. H. Lowe._
[Illustration: MR. EDWARD LUNN AND THE BICYCLE HE RODE ROUND THE
WORLD.]
The question most frequently put to me since I returned with my two
companions, Mr. Lowe and Mr. Fraser, from my cycling tour round the
world has been, "What were the roads like?" and to answer this question
fully would require a volume rather than a magazine article.
There were the paved roads of Belgium, the excellent military roads of
Germany, the steep slopes of Austro-Hungary and Roumania, the
cart-tracks of Southern Russia, the Government highway over the
Caucasus, the post-road to Erivan, the camel-tracks of Persia, the
Grand Trunk road of India, the bouldered highways of China, and the
Tokaido of Japan, not to mention the alkali deserts of Nevada and the
old Colonial roads of the Eastern States--the only thoroughfares
deserving the name in the Land of the Stars and Stripes, excepting
always the excellent pavements in the great American cities.
[Illustration: WE HAD TO RIDE ON SLEEPERS THROUGH FORTY-THREE MILES OF
SNOW SHEDS--THIS SORT OF THING.]
But of all the roads we traversed, the most interesting to cyclists
will probably be the 2,900 miles and upwards on railway tracks that we
covered in our circuit of the globe. We were first driven to these
tracks in Russia, and this jolting and jarring method of progression
may safely be recommended as an even better specific for liver troubles
than a ride on the top of a London 'bus. We were crossing the Russian
steppes. For several days we had been battling against the icy wind
that blows from the Caucasus, dressed always in the light summer
clothes which we wore in the smiling valleys of Roumania. The road was
so sandy as to render riding impossible. We forced our way along,
pushing our machines, through a blinding sandstorm, till at last we had
to take to the railway track.
These tracks in Russia are better made than any we have come across
elsewhere, and they are laid out with much elaboration. First, an array
of stones, neatly planned in patterns like an ornamental flower bed;
then the footway; then another pattern of stones, and then the line.
Whenever possible, we rode on the path between the two rows of stones;
but we were frequently obliged to try the sleepers, the interstices
between which were to some extent filled up with "ballast," which
assisted our progress materially. The trains near the Caucasus are few
and far between, and did not interfere with us to any extent. On our
arrival at a station, everybody seemed to think it quite natural that
we should come along on the line, and we took our meals in the railway
buffets, and slept in the waiting-rooms. Our railway-track riding in
Russia amounted to about 150 miles.
[Illustration: HOW WE CARRIED OUR BICYCLES OVER THE RAILWAY BRIDGES.]
Arriving in India, we were accompanied out of Karachi by a dozen
Englishmen who were practically novices at cycling. We started on a
good road, which ended a little way out of the town in deep sand, as is
the way with roads in this part of India. We then suggested to our
companions that we should ride on the track--a proceeding which they
did not understand at all. However, they took to the idea very kindly
after a time, and went with us thirty or forty miles on our way,
returning by train.
We rode in this way for 800 miles, till we got within four miles of
Lahore, where we struck the Grand Trunk road. At one of the little
wayside stations we knocked up the native station-master and asked for
food. He told us we could get nothing but rice and chupatties--a bill
of fare which did not "smile upon us," as the French say.
"Are there no English people here?" we asked.
"Oh, no; no English people here--this jungle."
"But we saw some English ladies in white dresses," we persisted.
"Oh," said the official, scornfully, "those only missionary."
[Illustration: THE BRIDGE ON WHICH I RACED A TRAIN.]
We had to try the railway track again in Burmah, between Rangoon and
Mandalay. There was a road here once, but it has fallen into decay, and
in many places is returning to the primæval jungle. In the pelting rain
of a Burmese monsoon the so-called road soon became a mere quagmire.
Railway-track riding in Burmah is much the same as it is in India, only
that, as the climate is moister and more malarial, the adventure
involves greater danger to health. The line is banked up on either side
to a considerable height--a detail of which I was to have a practical
and painful impression. Riding along the footpath one day, my machine
stuck in the mud, and unfortunately overbalanced on the wrong side,
towards the cutting, so that I could not put my foot to the ground on
the other side to dismount. Down I went some ten feet--fortunately with
no serious consequences--while, from the bank, my two companions
greeted my achievement with loud applause.
My fall into the ditch was not the pleasanter for the probability of
disturbing centipedes a foot long, cobras, and scorpions.
[Illustration: RIDING ACROSS THE SALT DESERT OF PERSIA.]
What food we got was more highly flavoured than the chutney and curries
of India, but we appreciated the lavish supply of bananas and
pineapples. One day a native station-master asked us about Lenz, the
little American cyclist who went this way and was afterwards murdered
in Armenia. We described his sad end, and the jovial Burman was quite
overcome. "Very kind smiling face," he said, with tears in his eyes.
When we crossed the frontier into China we left railways behind, though
the newspapers have informed us since we came back that a concession
has been granted for a railway in Yunnan. I can only say that if that
railway is ever made, it will give points to any switchback that was
ever invented, so mountainous is the entire country.
When we reached America we little imagined what was before us. We had
fondly believed that the most progressive country in the world would at
least provide ridable roads for cyclists. But the fact is that while in
old countries the road comes before the rail, in newly developed
countries the rail comes before the road--and sometimes the road never
comes at all. Cyclists, however, are doing a great deal to help
themselves in this matter, through the medium of the League of American
Wheelmen, one of the most powerful organisations in the United States.
At the Olympic Club in San Francisco we had some hints of what was to
befall us. The cycling editor of Hearst's great paper, _The Examiner_,
interviewed us during our stay, and gave us the chart of the route
followed by the great Trans-Continental Relay race, which had taken
place not long before our arrival.
[Illustration: THE THREE WORLD CYCLISTS AND A CHINESE GIANT WHO DOES
NOT CYCLE.]
We struck the railway track at Newcastle in California, and on the
second day the most perilous part of our experiences in this sort of
riding commenced, with our entrance to the "Snow Sheds" crossing the
great Sierra Nevada range. These snow-sheds, with the exception of two
bridges (of which more hereafter), extend uninterruptedly for
forty-three miles, with innumerable twists and turns, and we were in
semi-darkness for the entire distance. We were obliged to ride between
the rails. The snow had begun to melt, and pools of water extended
along either side of the lines, while between the sleepers, which were
free of snow, the ice lay in great uneven hummocks. We moved on at the
modest pace of some seven miles an hour through the darkness, while the
noise of our three machines and the rattling of the baggage we carried
prevented us from hearing anything of approaching trains till they were
actually upon us. Then we had to leap from our cycles and crouch
against the icy walls of the snow-shed while the train thundered past.
We took our lives in our hands several times a day.
Our position was worse in this respect when we were going down the
other side of the Nevada range. As we ascended, the trains had come up
behind us "full steam ahead," so that we could more easily detect their
approach; but as we went down from the summit, those following us on
the down grade came with steam shut off, and were upon us before we
could hear them.
On a bridge near Cisco an incident occurred which might have been
serious for me. It is about two hundred yards long, and I was beginning
to cross it, when my companions who were on in front beckoned me to
stop. I thought that one of my friends wished to take a snap-shot, and
stopped accordingly. However, after waiting about five minutes, as
nothing happened, I went on. It was a skeleton bridge, with a framework
in the middle. I had just reached the framework, carrying my machine,
when I heard the shriek of an engine whistle in the shed ahead. I
managed to keep my head and my balance, as a false step would have
meant death. I reached the end of the bridge, and stepped on to the
siding just as the train rushed past.
[Illustration: TRAVELLING WITH EMIGRANTS IN THE WESTERN STATES.]
It was only then that I fully realised the narrow shave I had had.
We joyfully left the railway track shortly before entering Omaha, and
from thence to Chicago we had roads that might, in comparison with our
previous experiences, be called tolerable.
At Chicago we took to the railway track again for a short time in the
suburb of Pullman; but from that point to New York we had the rare and
delightful experience of riding on a "made road," with charming scenery
about us. And very glad we were not to add to our record of riding
3,000 miles on railway sleepers.
[Illustration: THRASHING A CHINESE THIEF WHO STOLE THE CAMERA WITH
WHICH THESE PHOTOS WERE TAKEN.]
[Illustration]
THE CURSE OF THE CATSEYE
A TALE OF SINGAPORE TOLD BY THE THIRD MATE.
BY ALFRED SLADE.
_Illustrated by Ernest Prater._
It isn't my yarn at all by rights; the Second Mate commenced it, and
pushed me in, in the middle. So I've annexed it; and the Second won't
mind--for he's dead.
The _Mother Carey_ was not a ship to be proud of. I never knew anyone
to blow about belonging to her, not even the donkeyman.