recollection passed over her face, as the full details of the
catastrophe came back to her and she recalled that, inevitably, this
stranger had held her in his arms while he had performed services
strictly feminine. Her eyes retreated behind the satin sheen of their
lids. She struggled to her feet.
"Pardon, monsieur," she addressed him in the French of St. Germain.
"Where is my gentleman? And my horses, where are they? Horses,
hereabouts, are strangers to the automobile."
"Both have bolted, mademoiselle, doubtless for that very reason. I feel
very guilty, I assure you. I hope and pray that you are not seriously
hurt. I assure you that I would have given anything to have spared you
that fall. Can you ever forgive me? Will you let me make amends?"
As one born of high places, she raised her eyes straight and frankly to
his. Reading sincere regret and pain in the face of this handsome
stranger, she smiled as she generously held out her hand.
"You are forgiven," she said graciously. "I am only a trifle shaken.
Will you kindly take me to my castle in your car, as I do not wish my
people to worry?"
Nothing could have more tactfully displaced Carter's self-censure than
this expressed wish of hers. Seeing that she was still weak he gravely
offered his arm for her support.
Lightly she placed her gauntleted hand upon his elbow, but soft as that
touch was, no other woman had so thrilled him.
"To whom am I indebted, monsieur?" she asked with native curiosity.
"Calvert Carter, of New York, mademoiselle, is indebted to you for
overlooking the accident he has caused."
"Mr. Carter," she added in delicious English, "the Duchess of Schallberg
is grateful for your kindness. The question of indebtedness we will not
pursue. It is not a good basis of friendship."
This was the Duchess of Schallberg; the possible aspirant to its throne?
"You--you are Trusia?" he stammered.
"I am the Lady Trusia," she corrected gently.
VI
THE GRAY MAN AGAIN
"Which wye?" asked Carrick who, having started the auto, kept his eyes
steadily on the road in front of him and shot the question over his
shoulder.
"Straight ahead. The lady is unconscious again."
This was true, for as they entered the car Carter had been just in time
to catch the Lady Trusia in his arms as she toppled forward in a sudden
return of the fainting spell.
"Why not back to the inn, sir?"
Carrick's suggestion betrayed that he shared his companion's concern for
Her Grace of Schallberg.
"I'd rather not. We are not popular there and I feel present conditions
would hardly increase their friendship. We'll try the castle. I fancy
that's her home, anyhow."
He glanced up to where, distinctly outlined, its towers in the clouds,
they beheld the grim structure, recognizable from its significant
location as the one they had espied from the thither side of the forest.
"Where's the wye to it?" The chauffeur was puzzled, for straight before
them the cliff ran perpendicular to the side of the road, without an
apparent break. "Must be on the other side, sir, for blyme it's not on
this."
"More speed then, Carrick. This faint promises to last awhile."
Carter bent over the unconscious Trusia, and, as he noted the powerful
effort of her strong soul to beat off the paralysis of the senses, a
thrill of tenderness shot through him.
For a man with Calvert Carter's strength of character to hold a
beautiful girl in his arms it would be inevitable that a certain sense
of ownership should subconsciously mingle with his thoughts of her. The
germ of love may be discovered in propinquity.
Be that as it may, as the lax slender form in his arms set his heart
beating wildly, he was tempted to crush her to his breast and to press
his lips savagely, yearningly, upon her tender mouth. Then, in reaction,
her helplessness appealed to him and aroused all the chivalry of his
nature. For less than the space of a sigh the primitive savage within
him had struggled with the gentleman,--and the gentleman had won. This
very conflict with himself, however, had increased though it had
chastened his desire. The more personal concern he now felt for her
recovery was but another expression of the primal instinct dignified by
discipline.
Meanwhile the touring car had been lurching forward with increasing
acceleration for more than a quarter of a mile, when, surprising them
agreeably, the cliff apparently opened, showing a narrow way cut through
its face, leading directly up to the castle. Before the distant portal a
group of horsemen could be seen making preparations for departure.
"Evidently a relief party. That riderless horse of hers must have
returned and started an alarm."
"They see us, sir," said Carrick, who had brought the machine to a stop.
"They're pulling up. It's a good thing, as there's barely room for me to
run the car up, without their crowding the road."
So saying he carefully swung into the narrow way and soon accomplished
the ascent. Passing under a portcullis as mediaeval as that of any
Rhenish castle, they stopped in an ancient, stone-flagged courtyard. On
every side, thronging about them, they met the vengeful, scowling eyes
of men in a frenzy of fear and hate, while a growling murmur of
resentment greeted their ears as the mob recognized their liege lady
apparently dead in the arms of a stranger. To their discipline as
soldiers, for these men wore uniforms similar to those seen already at
the inn, the two adventurers probably owed salvation from instant
dismemberment. In their faces Calvert Carter read the unreasoning fury
of their souls, experiencing his nearest approach to fear, yet he met
them eye for eye.
Standing apart, his handsome boyish head hung in shame, as if ostracized
for incompetency, stood a young fellow whom Carter recognized as the
escort of the Lady Trusia. His face was pale and dejected. Apparently
unaware of the presence of the strangers, he was fingering his revolver
holster.
The heavy gate closed behind them with an ominous clang. A chill ran
down Carter's spine. If bad came to worst he resolved to sell his life
dearly, for murder electrified the air and was closing in around them
from every side.
A wicket suddenly opened in the studded door of the castle before them.
Two men stepped through it upon the broad flat stone of its only step.
Both were past middle age but vigorous looking. The first standing in
front of and obscuring his companion was evidently a personage of
exalted rank. His hair and long mustachios were silvery white, and the
glance he shot from under his heavy brows was keen and comprehensive. He
seemed a man accustomed to both camp and court. One glance at his
carriage would have shown to the merest tyro that he was a soldier even
had he not worn a black hussar uniform. He looked coldly around upon the
impassioned throng which was quieted by the steely glitter in his
disdainful eyes, and then, turning, said something to the abashed
equerry. Without remonstrance, the young fellow drew out his revolver
and handed it to a sergeant who immediately pocketed it.
Having quieted the disturbance, he for the first time became aware of
its cause. A cry of mingled grief and rage burst from his lips. He
started impulsively forward, fumbling at his sword hilt, but his
companion laid a restraining hand upon his arm, coming into full view
for the first time.
It was no other than the Gray Man of the inn, who now, with bent head
and most deferential manner, addressed a few whispered words to the
elderly noble. After a brief, inaudible conference the two descended
from the step to advance through the menacing throng toward the
automobile.
Mechanically, Carter, reaching back his free hand, opened the door at
the back of the car. The veteran stopped within touching distance, not
deigning to notice the action of invitation, and held out imperative
arms for the young Duchess.
His voice rasped harshly on the hot courage of the American. "Canaille,"
he blurted apoplectically, "how dared you run down Her Grace with your
cursed car? Your touch profanes her person. Surrender her instantly."
It was a blow in the face to Carter.
Though his blood was boiling, respect for the age of the man who
addressed him restrained Calvert from voicing the hot retort which
sprang to his lips or striking his adversary to the ground. His hands
opened and closed tensely as he kept himself in check. Disregarding the
curt command, Carter, still holding Trusia in his arms, leaped lightly
from the car and would have carried her into the castle had not the
elderly soldier barred his way. With face crimson every glistening hair
seemed to flash the lightning of his unspeakable rage at such
presumption.
"Monsieur," said Carter with level eyes, "let me pass. The lady is too
ill for us to be bandying words. You are too old and too well supported
for me to hope to obtain adequate satisfaction for your insult."
The other did not budge from the path, but reached out a peremptory hand
which he laid on Trusia's shoulder.
"Give her to me, sir," he insisted, ignoring Carter's remarks entirely.
The Gray Man rubbed his hands together in open delight at the disfavor
the two strangers were incurring and his cynical smile grew more evident
every moment.
While an eye might wink the primitive man awoke in Calvert. He was
prompted to fight for the woman he held as he stood measuring glances
with his peremptory adversary. Then the folly of such resistance came to
his mind, so with a sigh and a frown he permitted the other to take her
from his arms. As he did so he felt not only that something intangible,
delectable had been loosened from his clasp, but that its relinquishment
had caused the life blood to move more sluggishly in his breast.
"We're up against it," whispered Carrick, who descending from the car
had placed himself at his master's elbow for such eventualities as might
arise.
Seemingly fearful of a conference between the two, the Gray Man gave a
sudden order. Six men leaped from the hostile circle, and before there
was an opportunity for resistance, Carter and Carrick were thrown to the
ground and their arms were tightly bound to their sides.
The mocking face of the Gray Man regarded them as he bent over Carter's
prostrate form.
"Get up," he said, touching the American ever so slightly with his toe.
"You shall pay for this," said the outraged Carter as he struggled to
his feet.
"I am not indebted to you," was the sneering rejoinder, as, with the
slightest of gestures, he intimated that the prisoners were to be
conducted into the castle, through whose portal Her Grace of Schallberg
was already being carried by the plethoric nobleman.
VII
A COOL RECEPTION
Before their eyes, accustomed to the brightness of early afternoon, in
which all things were actively visible, could sufficiently adjust
themselves to distinguish objects in the shadowy gloom, they were thrust
into a room, the door of which was bolted after them, and they were left
in utter darkness.
"You there, Carrick?" whispered Carter.
"'Ere, sir," came the reply from an invisible neighborhood. "I'm trussed
up like a duck. These bloomin' cords are cuttin' my wrists. It seems to
me, sir," he continued ruefully, "that if we 'ad wanted to be jugged, we
could 'ave gotten the job done easier by styin' in New York. 'Don't like
a man,--to jail with 'im,' seems to be these chaps' motto."
"We're evidently in the bad books of the Gray Man, at any rate,
Carrick."
"I'm onto his gyme, sure's my name's Tod."
"What is it?"
"'E thinks we're spies."
Carter laughed incredulously. "He has put us in a good place, then.
Can't gather much information in this tomb, that is certain. We're
getting into their revolution by the back door, it seems."
"Talkin' about doors," Carrick's whisper radiated with excitement, "I'd
take my oath that I saw one as we came in. It's in the wall to the left
of the entrance and is slightly ajar."
"How close are you to me now?" The Cockney's shoulder touched his by way
of reply. "It is this wall we are leaning against, then?"
"The syme, sir. If you move along to your right about six feet, you'll
be right in front of it."
"We'll try our luck, anyhow," said Carter. "Next-door may not be so much
infested with the darkness of the pit." Carefully groping in the
indicated direction, they found the portal as Carrick had described it.
Their hands being tightly tied, they had to shove it open with their
shoulders. To their anxious ears it seemed impossible that the noise of
its rusty hinges could not be heard on the topmost battlement. The room
which they now entered was lighted by a single casement, high above
their heads. Diagonally opposite, in the wall parallel to the one by
which they stood, was another door, also open.
"Cinch," said Carrick, with a hopeful nod toward the possible avenue of
escape.
"I don't know that," replied the other reflectively. "Suppose we do find
our way out, how could we pass the sentries, videttes, and scouts who
are scouring the country--or should be? We'd have to hide without the
hope of assistance from strangers. What could we do with our hands tied?
Mind you, I'm not discouraging escape if we can--I'm simply groping for
a plan. Let's explore our quarters. It may help to know the lay of the
place."
"Wyte a bit, sir," said Carrick, moving behind his master. "My teeth are
strong. Mybe I can get your 'ands loose." Kneeling on the stone floor he
applied himself vigorously to the task.
"Our friends," commented Carter, "evidently foresaw such an attempt and
provided against it by shutting us up in the dark. How are you getting
on?" He could feel the strenuous efforts of his chauffeur as the latter
gnawed at the knot.
"Not at all, Mr. Carter. It's rawhide. The saliver from my mouth only
mykes it swell. Of course that tightens the knot. It mykes it slimy,
too, so's I carn't keep 'old of it." He scrambled to his feet with a
hasty apology for his failure.
"Fortunately our feet are not hobbled and we're not blindfolded. Come
on, we'll see what's beyond that door, my man," and Calvert proceeded
cautiously toward the open entrance. With ears strained to bursting,
they listened by it a breathless moment. No sound, no breath, no
intuition of human proximity warned them that further progress was
dangerous, so they passed the threshold into the third room. A sigh of
relief came from Carter's lips as he noted that it, too, was vacant. The
door to the cell beyond was likewise open. They advanced, therefore,
through that and several successive cells, until they were confronted by
a narrow, dark passageway, whose objective could not be discerned from
where they stood.
Not knowing where the gloom would betray their feet, they stepped very
cautiously as they explored the darkness before them. The better to
guide himself, Carter kept his shoulder to the wall. He had not
proceeded very far when his own weight, pushing against the masonry,
swung him off into a narrow entrance at right angles to the main
passage.
He drew back with a gasp. He found himself on the very brink of an
uncurbed well. Gradually recovering himself from the involuntary start
which had kept him from falling head-foremost into the opening, he
leaned forward to investigate.
Far below he could see daylight, a patch of grass-grown earth, and the
edge of a stable,--for a horse's head was thrust through an aperture.
He turned to his companion.
"Careful, Carrick. I pretty nearly stepped into kingdom come. I think
that door was purposely left open that we might commit involuntary
suicide. There's a well here without a bottom. Goes down through the
cliff to what is apparently the yard of the inn. It's like a shaft to
the mines at home. Wonder what's it for?"
"Secret passage, sir; see that basket and rope," and Carrick indicated a
huge car swinging in the gloom above their heads.
"That's how the Gray Man beat us to the castle without passing us on the
road."
"Right," agreed Carrick.
"We can't profit by it now, worse luck, but it may come in useful in a
pinch. Who knows? If we only had free use of our hands, now. Eh,
Carrick?"
"Right," reiterated his fellow captive.
"Well," said Carter, arising from his knees, "suppose we investigate the
rest of the main passage."
They turned again into the dark entry to be brought up this time by a
door which they would have also attempted to force had not the sound of
voices from the other side of the stout panels paralyzed their
intention and filled them with apprehension.
It was clearly a position where eavesdropping was not dishonorable. They
were prisoners, innocent of any moral offense, cast into jail without
being apprised of the nature of the charges against them. Here might be
an opportunity of gaining, at least, an insight into the character of
some of those hostile to them. A knowledge of the traits of one's judge
or jury is a material assistance to a sufficient defense, which no one
should neglect where an opportunity for the acquisition of such
information is honorably presented.
There were evidently two people in conversation in the region behind the
locked door. The voices were those of women. One, crisp and girlish, was
new to Carter. The other's made his heart bound hopefully. It was
Trusia's.
"Let us speak in French, Natalie," she was saying to her companion in
that language. "My maid need not understand all we talk about." Then she
continued in evident answer to some previous question, "His name is
Calvert Carter." There followed a delightful hesitancy, which sent a
thrill through the invisible auditor, while in a tone intended to be
judicious, Trusia completed her reply: "Yes, I think you would call him
handsome. Anyway, he's a gentleman. Any person could see that."
"But what has become of him?" inquired her companion. "I have asked my
father, and Tru, what sort of reply do you think he made? Mean thing."
"I don't know, dear. Probably teased."
"Exactly. He always does, no matter how serious the question may be. He
laughed and pinched my cheek, and had the audacity to ask if I wanted to
add the stranger to my list of victims. Then I asked the Chancellor. You
know he doesn't like girls. He puffed out his cheeks--so, drew down his
brows--like this, and glared. 'Umph, umph,' he blustered and stalked
away. Josef was the only one who would tell anything."
"Well, he could tell you only, as he did me, that they had resumed their
journey."
"O-o-oh," the exclamation was long drawn, indicating that some one had
fibbed. "He told me that the strangers were dangerous. Russian spies, he
said. Do you think they are, Tru? It's perfectly thrilling. And to
think, one actually held you in his arms! Who knows----" she began
mischievously. There was a gurgling sputter of sounds, as if a hand had
been placed over the teasing mouth. Then it was withdrawn and the
offender was permitted to prattle on.
"If they weren't spies, Tru, why should they be put in one of the old
cells?"
"What makes you say that, Natalie? Josef certainly told me they had gone
on with their journey."
"He told me that they were locked up. I saw the auto not five minutes
before coming here. It's under sentry in the courtyard."
"Surely, Natalie, you are mistaken, dear? Josef would not tell me a
deliberate untruth." Carter felt a strong desire to see and expose this
Josef who held such an exalted place in the confidence of Her Grace of
Schallberg. Symptoms threatening a tiff were evident in the Lady
Natalie's voice.
"Really, Your Grace," she said with dignity, "am I to understand that
you'd take his word before mine?"
"Your Grace?--what nonsense! Between you and me! Don't pout, dear. Just
think what chance Krovitch would have for a man to rule her people, and
lead them in their battles if it wasn't for this same loyal,
disinterested Josef? Do you wonder I hold him in such high esteem?"
There was a gentle reproof in the Duchess's tones.
"But why," persisted the somewhat mollified Natalie, "did your paragon
fib so to me?"
"We'll go and see now, dear. Marie has finished my hair."
The listener, assured that they would get a fair trial, arose and, with
Carrick following, made his way back in the direction from which they
had adventured.
There is always a difference, telepathic it may be, in a room which,
then empty, has been entered and vacated by some living thing. Carter
appreciated this as soon as he set his foot in the first cell on their
return journey. Some one had been there since he and Carrick had come
through. He glanced at the Cockney to see if he, too, had the same
impression. The fellow's head was craned forward, as one who strives to
catch an elusive sound.
"I was sure I 'eard something in there, Mr. Carter," he whispered,
responding to the visual question, as he nodded his head toward the
doorway beyond them. Carter listened intently. It might have been an
atom broken from silence; he was not positive that he had really heard
anything, but he was convinced that the silence had not been unbroken.
They moved cautiously to the door and peered guardedly around its frame.
There is also an actual physical--or, if you choose, psychical
connection between what is seen, what has just missed being seen by an
infinite fraction of time, and what one has imagined one has just seen,
and between these all the scientists of all the ages have not been able
to formulate a real distinction. One's senses, after all, remain the
best guides.
"I just missed seeing something going through that door," whispered
Carrick. It is noticeable, too, that he had said "something" and not
"some one." The gloomy cells, centuries old, the damp memories of the
dungeons still clinging to the walls, together with this weird presence
which eluded their eyes before they could behold it, might well arouse
the superstitions of firmer minds than the Cockney's.
They were approaching the cell in which they had been placed. At last
there was a perfectly appreciable sound. It was a fumbling, as of some
one in the darkness, making hasty efforts to get a key in a lock.
Carter, now bent on discovery, made a rush into the abysmal darkness. He
could see--nothing!
Still he felt that he and Carrick, who had joined him, were not the only
occupants of the room.
Along the hall could be heard the unmistakable sound of approaching
steps.
"Quite a select party, sir," remarked Carrick in comment, while Carter
still tried to pierce the gloom to establish the identity of the
invisible visitant.
"About three," replied Carter.
The sounds stopped directly opposite their door. There was a grating of
a key against the lock and the door swung open.
VIII
THE SPECTRE OF THE STAR
The Gray Man stood in front of the narrow entrance. The sinister smile
which flickered across his face was made diabolic by the cross rays from
the lanterns carried by two peasant soldiers. As if his attendance was
an enforced and unwelcome one, the equerry of Lady Trusia, who had
followed in the wake of the others, advanced no further into the room,
but stood with his back against the closed door.
One furtive glance cast in the direction of the cell from which Carter
and Carrick had just returned convinced the former that the old fellow
was at least aware of their explorations.
When the two privates had deposited their lanterns upon a table which
seemed to emerge from the gloom under the partial illumination, Carter
surveyed his prison with a curiosity previously denied him. One glance
was sufficient. The Gray Man had come to conduct an inquisition. What
more fitting place, therefore, could be found to strike terror to the
hearts of the guilty or weakling than the torture chamber of the
castle?
A man of keen perceptive nature is apprised of secret as well as
professed antagonisms, through a primitive discrimination, unaided by
either word or deed, of the one holding him in enmity. Carter felt sure
that with the possible exception of the equerry this visit to the cell
was not prompted by a friendly motive. They had, evidently, been
imprisoned in darkness that a sudden revelation of the devilish
machinery about them might shake their courage.
Carter's lip curled disdainfully at such cheap theatrical efforts. He
turned to the smirking face before him, which from behind the table was
watching for the signs of trepidation he had hoped to surprise. By an
answering smile as mocking as his own, he was satisfied that his ruse
had failed. He shrugged his thin shoulders.
Purringly in an incomprehensible jargon, he addressed Carter to receive
no other response than a blank and puzzled stare.
He essayed French.