France? Well, so be it."
At the mention of that secret, ubiquitous organization of Russian
espionage, Carter realized that Carrick's prognostications had been
correct. The cool insinuation made his blood boil. His answer came with
the force of a blow. "What do you mean?" he thundered.
Staggered for an instant, the Gray Man's equanimity was shaken, then,
turning to speak to the two peasants, he waited until they had placed
themselves at the sides of the enraged American. Assured that he had
forestalled any possible violence to himself, he regarded the prisoners
sneeringly.
"That you are Russian spies."
"We are Americans. I will prove it, too, as soon as I am out of this
place; and that in a manner which will not be pleasant to those
concerned in this outrage."
"Provided you get a chance. Spies are not given much shrift hereabouts."
This was said with deliberate malevolence.
"Would you dare?" challenged Carter who realized to the full what the
menace implied.
"It would be but an incident, monsieur," replied his jailer in a casual
manner. "You would be numbered among the missing in the big events of
to-morrow. Enough time has been wasted on you, Monsieur of the White
Police," he said, as if dismissing discussion. "We must to business."
At a nod from him, the two peasant soldiers threw themselves upon the
helpless prisoners, and ruthlessly rifled their persons of all
belongings, which were placed upon the table before the Gray Man.
Straining till the big veins in their arms stood out in ridges and the
sweat poured from their brows, the captives were helpless against the
indignities put upon them.
Carrick's shirt was torn open. The Krovitzer soldiers stood dumbfounded
at the sight of the star which hung upon the Cockney's breast. As though
its appearance had countermanded all previous orders, they turned
puzzled faces to their superior, who also saw the emblem.
Into those sneering eyes crept a pallid fear, while his face grew ashen.
Approaching the Cockney he laid a trembling finger on the star.
"Your name?" he asked hoarsely.
"Tod Carrick," was the sullen reply.
A slight start followed this, as though the answer had matched his
anticipations.
Instantly, the training and duplicity of years reasserted themselves.
The habitual mask once more settled upon his inscrutable countenance. He
turned to Carter who had been an attentive though puzzled observer of
this by-play.
"I was surprised," he explained, "but only for an instant, to see your
companion wearing the badge of our most noble order. I should not have
been as there is no moral distinction between a thief and a spy."
Encouraged by his own words, he tore the medal from its resting place,
while Carrick groaned impotently.
"I'll make you sweat for this," growled the Cockney.
"What authority have you for this?" asked Carter with forced calmness as
the Gray Man commenced a leisurely perusal of his private papers.
Without deigning a reply, their self-constituted judge completed his
task; carefully folding the various documents he had been reading, he
looked up complacently.
"Authority," he replied with a rising inflection, as though the idea
were a new one. "Oh, I think I am justified in assuming it."
Carter breathed a prayer of silent thanksgiving that the Lady Trusia had
been no party to the indignity.
As though in response to the thought, the Lady Trusia herself walked
indignantly into the room. Going straight to the table she confronted
the Gray Man with flashing eyes.
"Josef," she addressed him with stamping foot, "what does this mean? Who
gave you permission to treat this gentleman so harshly? I am still
mistress here."
"They are Russian spies, Highness."
"Fiddlesticks," she replied with the feminine faith in the man who had
given her such tender care. "Anyhow," she temporized, "our Privy
Council, not you, shall be their judges." With charming hesitation, she
turned to make a suitable apology to Carter, when, as her eyes fell
before his ardent gaze, they rested upon Carrick's heirloom lying on the
table.
"Can it be?" she questioned as one in a dream. "Is it yours?" she asked
breathlessly, her whole soul in her eyes and parted lips, as she turned
to Carter.
"No, Your Grace," he answered, "it is my chauffeur's."
"Yours?" she skeptically inquired of Carrick. "Where did you get it?"
"He probably stole it. He had it hidden under his shirt," suggested
Josef.
Her fine brows drew together in annoyance as she turned to look steadily
into the crafty eyes of him she called Josef.
"You forget your place, sir. I gave you no leave to speak. Have you
forgotten that I am the Duchess of Schallberg? Be silent until you are
spoken to."
Josef shrugged his shoulders after he had bowed apologetically, for he
saw that the lady was no longer looking in his direction. Minutely,
closely, she was studying the face of the Cockney; first red, then pale,
her own countenance betrayed some inward apprehension.
"It cannot be," she said huskily as if striving to dispel some doubt
that would arise, "and yet there is no other jewel unlocated. Please
tell me how you got this," she supplicated helplessly.
"Honestly, mem," was all the satisfaction she could elicit, for Carrick
made no distinctions between her and the servant whom he thought was her
agent.
"I've no doubt of that," she answered soothingly. "Will you tell me your
name?" Her eager, expectant face held an expression of one who half
fears the reply.
"Carrick," he answered with the monotony of iteration.
"Thank you," she said in relief. "Oh," she cried as she espied their
bonds for the first time, "your hands are tied. This is intolerable.
Casimir," she commanded the equerry, who had been keeping as much out of
sight as possible, "undo those cords. They are cutting into the flesh.
Messieurs, pardon my overzealous servants. Indeed, we have much to fear
from strangers. Though you may mean no wrong to us, yet formality
requires that you satisfy our Privy Council of your honesty in coming to
our remote country at this particular time. Let us go at once, that you
may the speedier be relieved of surveillance.
"Josef," she said, turning to the Gray Man, "if you so desire you may
present your foolish charges there."
She lifted her glance graciously to Carter.
"I have no fear for you, monsieur. You have the marks of an honorable
gentleman."
IX
IF ZULKA WERE HERE
"I've 'arf a notion to knock your block for a bloomin' sneak." Carrick
halted suddenly in the doorway of the cell to face Josef. The Cockney's
fists were clenched in a manner which promised that action would
immediately follow declaration. Carter intervened peremptorily while
Josef discreetly withdrew out of reach of the tough, bunched knuckles.
Led by the Duchess of Schallberg, they traversed a stone-flagged, arched
passageway, which brought them to the main hall of the castle. A modern
dwelling of average size could have been erected there without entirely
exhausting the spaciousness of the hall.
Tattered banners, gray with antiquity, hung like memories on the walls.
Below these, crumbling with age, were the antlers of ancestral deer,
while arms and armor of heroic mold glimmered from the shadowy niches
filled by them for generations.
Crossing the hall, the party led by Trusia approached a tapestried-hung
archway, whose single sentry raised the heavy folds to admit her to
whatever lay beyond.
Preceded by Her Grace, and followed closely by Josef, Carter and Carrick
entered the Council Chamber of Schallberg.
At one end of its many-pillared room, a dais held a double throne, whose
high, broad back was carved with many heraldic devices of past
intelligence. Its intricate traceries were capped by a lion rampant,
which had pawed the air for generations.
Directly from the steps of the throne ran a heavy table at which were
seated three Privy Counselors. A fourth seat was vacant. For Her Grace
of Schallberg? Evidently not, for she mounted the two broad steps and
seated herself on the throne, bowing graciously to the trio of ministers
who had risen at her entrance. With a gesture that indicated that Carter
and Carrick should stand facing these, their judges, she settled herself
back in the high chair, while the accused found themselves with their
backs to the door. Josef, with mocking deference, placed himself at the
end of the table as the prosecutor. He unburdened himself of the
purloined articles which he now placed before him in a little pile.
Admitting the seriousness of the situation so far as himself and his man
were concerned, Carter could not but confess that the scene was a
picturesque one, and that the very element of danger gave it a touch of
piquancy. Here were himself and Carrick, fresh from the greatest shrine
of modernity, after having been cast into a mediaeval dungeon, now being
hauled before a trinity of gold-laced judges on a charge of being spies.
He glanced admiringly toward Her Grace, whose tempting chin was cupped
in her pink palm, while the deep lace of her half sleeve fell back from
the round elbow propped by the broad arm of the throne. Her eyes dreamed
of far-away things, until, telepathically, she became aware of Carter's
ardent gaze.
Recalled to the duty before her, she blushed guiltily at her
abstraction.
"Josef says these strangers are spies. You must judge," she said
trenchantly to her Counselors.
Carter could have knelt before her as she spoke, for her voice
proclaimed her disbelief.
"This," she said turning to Calvert as she indicated the stern-faced
veteran nearest the throne, "this is Colonel Sutphen, the Hereditary
Chancellor of Krovitch and member of our Privy Council."
[Illustration: MOUNTED THE STEPS AND SEATED HERSELF ON THE THRONE]
Carter bowed gravely, but received no other acknowledgment than a frigid
glare from the veteran. Josef had undoubtedly prejudiced Sutphen
against the accused. This was more plausible than to suppose that the
Colonel had become rancorous merely because the unconscious Trusia had
not been more promptly surrendered to him, for it was he who had
received her from the automobile. Proudly meeting the glaring eyes of
Sutphen, Carter turned with relief to Her Grace of Schallberg. He caught
the faint smile of amused comprehension which hovered about her lips;
she had seen and enjoyed that duel of glances, as an ancient suzeraine
might have delighted in a tourney in her honor. As her eyes met those of
the American, he smiled.
"Seated beside Colonel Sutphen is Count Muhlen-Sarkey, the Holder of the
Purse."
This Privy Counselor was a moon-faced and rotund individual, who, in his
efforts to preserve a fitting severity of expression in keeping with the
duty before him, had succeeded only in appearing monstrously depressed.
He smiled eagerly, responsively, to Carter's bow, bobbing his head like
a gleeful sparrow. As a matter of fact, the proceedings were to him a
joke--something to relieve the monotony of his existence. Yet this
modern Falstaff, as Carter afterward learned, was among the bravest of
the brave, meeting death with this same cheery smile, and following the
grim monarch with a jest.
The only remaining member of the Council present was Count Sobieska,
Minister of Private Intelligence, who, from under half closed Oriental
eyes, acknowledged the presentation with a dignified, but non-committal,
inclination of the head. He seemed preoccupied in his own passivity, and
was a man in the fullest triumph of life,--the years that enrich at
forty. Lithe-looking as a panther--a somnolent animal now to all
appearances--an occasional gleam of the half masked eyes suggested that
this show of indifference concealed a mind of no inferior order. His
nose was thin and arched like an Arab sheik's, and the close black hair
was chafed from his temples in a seeming baldness. The iron firmness of
his square jaw was not effaced beneath his well-trimmed beard. His
hands, lightly folded over the hilt of a sword held between his knees,
were long, slim, and muscular. Evidently a tireless friend or an
implacable enemy, his was the strongest personality of the three
Counselors present, despite his seeming air of ennui.
Bowing to Carter, he had turned an indifferent scrutiny upon Josef, who,
though smiling, would have apparently foregone the inspection. All eyes
were upon the accuser, however. Trusia's voice broke the silence as she
addressed him.
"You may speak, Josef." There was a trace of regret in her voice. "I
fear you have been over-zealous."
"Listen, Highness," he said. He was anxious to convince; over-anxious,
it seemed. "These men, in their accursed machine, flew past the sentries
at the frontier, disregarding all commands to halt, even the shots
fired."
"That is true," replied Carter. "We could take no chances. We had no
desire to meet Russians just then."
An inquiry half parted Trusia's lips as she turned to hear Carter's
confirmation, but checking her curiosity, she signed for Josef to
proceed.
"Then they came to Posner's Inn. You know, Highness, what preparations
were going forward there. These the spies noted. They even tried to
bribe Posner into telling where Count Zulka could be found. They knew
there was a heavy price upon his head. The cursed Russians." Carter
started in surprise at this information regarding his friend. Josef
pointed a triumphant finger at him. "See," he said, "it is true as I
have said." Turning to Her Grace he continued, "If you attribute your
fall from your horse to an accident, there are others who do not. It was
part of their plan. Had not the highways been so well guarded they would
have carried you to the Russian salt mines, a prisoner." Josef's
vehemence had cost him his breath. He paused to regain it.
To all appearances the Minister of Private Intelligence had been the
least interested of the auditors. He now spoke quietly with reference to
the belongings lying upon the table. Doubtless his keen eyes had already
inventoried them.
"Have you found any proofs?" he asked, with a wave of his hand toward
the group of miscellany.
At this question, Josef faced about with a conciliatory smile.
"No more than was to be expected, Excellency, upon the person of a spy
of the undoubtedly superior intelligence that Russia would send on a
mission to Krovitch just now. A fortune in bills--presumably for bribes,
a road map of our country, and the name of 'Zulka' written across the
capital, Schallberg."
At the reference to Zulka's name used in connection with the alleged
plot, Trusia gave a slight start and a reproachful look clouded her
eyes.
Frankly, fearlessly, he met her glance as well as the steel-like glint
from Sobieska.
"He was my friend," the American said, as though no further explanation
could be demanded.
"He was their quarry," retorted Josef vehemently. "Else why the
questions to Posner and attempts to bribe, the fortune in bills, the
name written significantly across the capital's, the city where to
friends and foes he was best known. Had his friend been as careful,"
continued Josef, who already tasted triumph and liked the flavor, "we
would have no more clues. His passion for acquisition, however, has
given us additional material." He held up the star with evident dramatic
intent.
As Sutphen and Muhlen-Sarkey recognized it they started in genuine
surprise.
"King Stovik's star," cried Sutphen.
Sobieska held out an indolent hand into which the eager Josef dropped it
for examination. First the obverse, then the reverse were inspected with
apparently slight interest. To Carter's appreciation of character,
however, it was evident that not the slightest scratch on its surface
had escaped those drooping eyes, as it was passed on to the gaping
Holder of the Purse, whose chubby hands received it as though it were
the relic of a saint. The jovial face was for the first time honestly
grave. Reverently he transferred it to the Hereditary Chancellor. It lay
before that bristling veteran who turned a questioning glance to Her
Grace of Schallberg.
"I have seen it," she said.
"Is it--is it the missing star?" he asked in a hesitating manner, as
though an affirmative answer was more than he could hope for.
"It is," she replied with slightly inclining head.
"Then who is he?" asked the bewildered Sutphen, rising from his seat and
pointing impulsively at Carrick.
"Only an English peasant, Excellency, who has stolen the missing star,"
Josef insinuated.
"Are you sure? Are you sure?" persisted the Colonel, who was struggling
with a grave doubt, which was now inclining his judgment in favor of the
captives.
Josef, comprehending the nature of the perplexity and fearing he might
lose a partisan, advanced an argument whose significance did not then
appeal to Carter.
"A medal, Excellency, even that medal may pass easily from one person to
another without ownership having any special value. Papers, valuable
papers, would be guarded faithfully from father to son because they
alone would be incontestable proof. We know what we have already found.
Look at this uncouth fellow," said Josef, indicating Carrick with a
sneer. "Remember, he is a servant, and judge if there be any chance that
his possession of the star should cause you any doubts? Was it with such
as he the Line was maintained?"
That he had stilled any uneasiness in the minds of the Counselors caused
by the display of the medal, Josef was now satisfied. He paused for a
final effort.
Sobieska spoke quickly to Carrick in an unintelligible language to be
met with a look of honest mystification.
Josef smiled ironically.
"Your Lordship surely did not expect to catch such clever rogues by so
innocent a ruse? They hardly would confess to a familiarity with
Russian. Such an admission would convict them. Indulge them in French.
One of the pair has that much linguistic ability. Besides, we have so
far conducted our investigations in that diplomatic language."
"You are presumptuous, sir," said Trusia sharply. "_You_ have no part in
the conduct of this matter. You are simply a witness." Josef bowed low
in meekness.
Without deigning a reply to the old fellow, Sobieska spoke next in
fairly good English to the Cockney.
"What is your nation--birthplace?"
"England; Whitechapel, London," replied Carrick with natural
taciturnity.
"Where did you get that?" continued the Minister, pointing to the
medal.
"My guv'nor left it to me when he croaked."
His questioner's eyelids were raised the merest shade in
non-comprehension of the vernacular.
"Your governor," he said slowly as if seeking a key to relationship.
Josef smiled. The latter's exultation was that of one enjoying a
possible misconstruction which might attend a literal interpretation of
what he knew was idiomatic.
"Guvnor is the Whitechapel slang for father. My man many years ago told
me he had received it in that way--the death of his parent," explained
Carter coming to the rescue.
The stately Krovitzer bowed in acknowledgment of the explanation then
continued his questioning.
"Where did he get it?" His sleepy eyes were probing deep.
"How the hell should I know," replied the irritated Cockney, who swiftly
resented this prying into his affairs. Remembering himself instantly, he
turned with a fine red in his face to the girl on the dais. "I beg your
pardon, Your Grace, for forgetting myself. It was none of 'is business,"
he said, defending his lapse.
"Was he English, also?" pursued Sobieska relentlessly.
"Sure."
"His name?"
"Mark Carrick," was the almost surly answer.
"His business?"
"Scrivener."
"Why did you come to Krovitch?" The question was advanced suddenly,
unexpectedly, as if to catch the chauffeur off his guard.
"I'm Captain Carter's man; you'd better arsk him." Carrick was
displaying renewed signs of impatience.
Sobieska paused. He gravely turned to his associates, and, for their
information, translated fairly and without comment what the chauffeur
had said into French, with which language Sutphen and Muhlen-Sarkey
seemed conversant.
"That you might correct any misstatements," he explained calmly to
Carter.
"There was no need," replied the American. "You have been most
impartial."
Evidently not yet satisfied with the results obtained from his
preliminary investigations, he turned again to the Englishman, who
seemed not a little mystified to find his domestic history so
interesting to these lordly foreigners.
"Where is your father buried?" inquired Sobieska courteously.
"Dunno, sir. I was awye when 'e died. Landlidey said as 'ow a strange
gent came, buried 'im an' took 'is hinsurance pipers awye with 'im. Sed
'e was the guvnor's brother."
"Did you ever see this uncle?" he asked suavely.
"No, sir. Never knew I 'ad one. Guvnor sed 'e was the only child."
"Did you claim the insurance?"
Carrick paused long before replying. When he spoke again his tone was
decidedly hostile.
"What's all this got to do with my bein' a spy? These things about my
guvnor an' me are personal matters. I don't see as 'ow I'm bound to
answer such questions." His face reddened slowly and then he added
impressively, "This much I'll admit to my own discredit, though."
Sobieska bent forward even more closely in anticipation.
"The guvnor an' me," continued Carrick, "didn't allus 'it hit off
together, so you see I didn't know much about 'is affairs. I said
hinsurance pipers, because they looked like 'em to me. They might not
'ave been, but the guvnor set a great store by 'em. Captain Carter can
tell as 'ow I told 'im all this at Santiago." He turned to his master
for confirmation.
"It is true," said the latter.
Still the Minister was not satisfied to relax his intimate
investigations. Her Grace of Schallberg appeared an interested listener
and had lost not a syllable of what had been said. The remaining
Counselors were patiently expectant of translation as English was a
closed door to them. Josef on the other hand would have gladly welcomed
a divertisement though clearly afraid to inaugurate one. For some subtle
reason he was very uneasy. Since Carrick's assertion that a stranger had
purloined valuable papers from his father, the Gray Man had seemed to
fear an unexpected revelation of some sort. Sobieska seemed to scent
this secret fear and was willing to play with Josef's susceptibility.
"When did your father die?" asked the Count after a pause which had
threatened to become intense, during which Josef had shifted uneasily.
"Fifteen years ago come the seventh of August."
"Where?"
"Twelve Tottinam Plyce, Whitechapel."
"Is the landlady living?"
"Now 'ow the devil should I know? I beg your pardon, again, Your Grace,
but this man is badgerin' me orful." Her smile asked him to be patient
so he turned to his inquisitor patiently.
"I 'aven't seen 'er since," he replied.
Josef felt this line of investigation had gone far enough and determined
to stop it at all hazards. He coughed. Sobieska turned to him
inquiringly, an amused smile in his eyes.
"Is all this important, Excellency?" the Gray Man asked deprecatingly,
intimating that the issue had been forgotten. With a quiet drawl,
containing both a reproof and a demurrer, Sobieska corrected him.
"Interesting," he said as he shot a covert glance at Josef which also
held a challenge. Then as though in tacit compliance with the suggestion
he turned not discourteously to Carter.
"Where did you get the title of Captain your man gave you a while ago?"
"I have no real right to it, never claim it," replied the American,
"though at one time I bore it as of right in the Spanish-American war.
It is the American habit never to let a man forget a title he has once
won through merit."
Sobieska bowed.
"What brought you to Krovitch? It is outside the usual route of
tourists."
For the fraction of a second the men gazed steadily at each
other--possible antagonists appraising the other's chances. The question
had been as hitherto in French for the benefit of the other auditors.