than whom the earth holds no sweeter, nobler woman. To God and Trusia
you will owe your throne. She has urged us, cheered us, led us, till
this day has grown out of our wordy plans. See that she has her full
measure of reward from you. Though our swords be for your service, our
hearts we hold for her in any hour of her need."
Sutphen's keen eyes had never left the sovereign's face while speaking.
If the words were blunt his manner had been courtly and deferential.
With a courtesy which was superbly free from her inmost trepidation,
Trusia swept up the King's reluctant hand, pressing it to lips as chill
as winter's bane.
"Sire," she said in a voice scarcely audible, "sire, I did no more than
many a loyal son of Krovitch. I--we all--will give our lives for our
country and her rightful king."
"Duchess! Lady Trusia," stammered the flushing, self-conscious king
embarrassed by the kiss upon his hand, "I fear I am unworthy of such
devotion. Unused to courtly custom I feel that I should rather render
homage unto you. They tell me, these friends who say that they are my
subjects, that I am your debtor. My obligations may already be beyond
discharge. Add no more by obeisance." The poorly turned speech awoke a
slight defiance in Trusia's heart. It was oversoon, she thought, for her
King to patronize her.
"Your Majesty mistakes," was the quick retort, "my homage is to
Krovitch. We are equals--you and I."
"I could ask no greater distinction than equality with you." Stovik's
answer was a pattern of humility, which Trusia in her loyalty was quick
to see. Her face softened.
"If Your Majesty will deign to come, I have something over there I think
will interest you," and she indicated the far end of the room where
stood a velvet draped table guarded by two gentlemen in hussar uniform.
With her hand upon his arm Stovik sedately approached the place. Here he
saw nothing but the bulk of objects covered by a silken cloth. This
Trusia removed.
The act disclosed a crown, a sceptre and a jeweled sword. Before them on
the cushion also lay the grand badge of the Order of the Lion with a
fine chain of gold.
"As the hereditary head of the Order, sire," Trusia remarked as she
raised the glittering insignia, "you are entitled to assume the mark at
once." Without further words she drew the chain over his head letting
the Lion depend upon the breast of his artist's blouse.
Lifting up the crown he turned to her mischievously. "Why not this?" He
made a gesture to put it on his head.
"It will be a burden, sire. That's why they are all made so pleasing to
look upon; gemmed and jeweled, just as sugar coats a bitter pill. A
crown means weariness and strife. Are you so anxious to take up its
cares? They will come soon enough." She spoke in a sweetly serious voice
that was not without its effect upon him. "Besides," she said, "the
Bishop of Schallberg has waited many years to perform that office. Would
you rob him of it?"
Although Stovik replaced the glittering loop upon the velvet pall, he
smiled to think how little the Church had entered into his former scheme
of life. Trusia seemed to divine his thoughts, for, as his ascending
eyes met hers, she continued speaking of the aged prelate.
"He is a dear old man, sire, kindly and gentle. The beggars and little
children call him their patron saint. Well past the allotted span of
years, he has prayed to be spared until the day when he can anoint the
head of the King of Krovitch. Then, he says, he will die joyously."
The King murmured his hopes for a longer life for the Bishop, and Trusia
turned to present her chaperon, the Countess Muhlen-Sarkey, with the
remaining gentlemen of the Court.
After the formalities had been attended to, and he had received the
sincere good wishes of his nobles, the King turned to the beautiful girl
at his side.
"Do you leave with us to-morrow?" he asked. "Of our future plans I have
had necessarily only a sketch. So little time has elapsed since Colonel
Sutphen visited Eugene Delmotte that King Stovik can readily be forgiven
for some slight ignorance."
"If it meets with Your Majesty's approval, we will start to-morrow for
Vienna," Trusia said. "There we will await Colonel Sutphen's summons
from your capital, Schallberg. Major Carter, Josef, myself and the
Countess Muhlen-Sarkey will accompany Your Majesty. The other gentlemen
will attend the Colonel. They precede us to ascertain if all is in
readiness."
"Will the gentlemen travel in uniform?" The King's glance about the room
had not been free from an apprehension that such a course might awaken
inquisitive questions from officials.
"Oh, certainly not, Your Majesty," the girl reassured him. "Your Majesty
will procure a passport made out to Eugene Delmotte, artist. You will be
traveling to Krovitch for studies for the painting I hear you are
making. The uniforms will be a part of your paraphernalia."
"Will there be no risk?"
"Is Your Majesty unwilling to take the least? Your subjects must indeed
seem reckless to you." Trusia's tone indicated the depth of her reproof.
"I suppose that did sound rather selfish," he hastened to confess, "but
the truth is that I do not yet realize that I am actually a king. That
I, a few hours ago a penniless artist, should be plunging into a
national movement as its leader, its king, seems nothing short of a
dream. But tell me, Duchess, from whom we should fear detection?"
"This is a national movement of ours, sire. Some chance may have aroused
Russian suspicion, but believe me, I'd stake my life on your people's
loyalty. St. Petersburg may be apprehensive, but they know nothing of
the real truth nor the imminence of our uprising. Here is Colonel
Sutphen, doubtless wishing to talk more fully of our plans to you," she
concluded as the grizzled veteran stood courteously awaiting their
leisure to speak with the King.
Feeling free to do so now, she turned to her American aide. "Major
Carter," she said, "I think His Majesty can spare me now. Won't you tell
me of your adventures to-night?" Taking the arm he offered they strolled
together into the hall. Being there out of the royal presence they were
at liberty to seat themselves. An alcove held a tempting divan. Here
they found a place.
"Your Grace," he said in a tone he strove valiantly to hold within the
pitch of social usage, "let me rather tell you how beautiful I fancied
you to-night."
As the handsome fellow bent his head toward her, she was possessed of a
strange yearning. The plans, the plots, the wearying details of years
had almost deprived her of the solace of sex; in the role of patriot she
had well-nigh forgotten that she was a woman. A hunger for her due, so
long deferred, spoke in her voice.
"Yes," she said honestly, "please do. Anything to make me forget for the
few minutes I can call my own. Tell me a fairy-story," she commanded
with almost childish eagerness. "Or have you Americans foresworn fairies
for Edisons?"
"I know one who has not," he answered, falling soothingly into her mood.
"He has seen the Queen, Titania."
"Well, tell me about her. Oh, I do hope that she was beautiful," and she
dimpled bewitchingly.
"She was--fairy queens are always beautiful, and sometimes kind. Once
upon a time--all fairy-stories have happened once upon a time--there was
a man."
"Yes," she interrupted, bending expectantly toward him.
"He was poor," he continued quietly.
"Oh," she exclaimed in disappointment.
Carter shook his head understandingly. "He was an artist. He hoped one
day to be called a genius. The fairy queen knew this was not to be so
she made him a king and gave him--part of her kingdom." He paused to
find her looking down, a shade of sadness on her face. Noticing his
pause she looked up.
"Well?" she asked.
"There was another man," he continued. "This other man was not poor. He
was not an artist, but to-night he saw the fairy queen in all her regal
splendor. It made him think that all the flowers in all the worlds
condensed into one small but perfect bloom were not so sweet as she. So
the other man more than ever wished to rule in her fairyland--with her."
"No, no," she cried, detecting the prohibited note, "you must not speak
so." Her hands crumpled the morsel of cobweb and lace she had for
handkerchief. Carried away with her proximity, however, he would not now
be denied.
"This is but a fairy-story, Duchess. Oh, Fairy Queen, could you not find
a kingdom for the other man in fairyland--a kingdom with you as Queen?"
His naked soul was laying pleading hands upon her quivering heart. She
turned away, unable to withstand the suppliance of his eyes.
"You do not know what you ask," she whispered hoarsely. Then vehemently
spurring her resolve into a gallop, she added, "When the King is crowned
in Schallberg, I become his wife."
"Suppose he isn't," he urged doggedly.
"Oh, no," she cried brokenly, "don't make me a traitor to my country's
hopes. Don't make me wish for failure."
Unwittingly her words confessed her love for Carter. Grimly forcing her
weakness back into her secret heart, she turned a calm front to him once
again.
"Enough of fairy-stories, Major Carter," she said. "We live in a
workaday world where the 'little people' have no place. All of us have
our duties to perform. If some be less pleasant than others it is no
excuse for not fulfilling them to the uttermost. We have a hard day
before us. With His Majesty's permission, therefore, I will retire for
the night." She arose as she said this, so Carter had no other
alternative than to follow her into the royal presence.
From a balcony at the far end of the room, crept a faint note of music.
The players were carefully concealed behind banked palms and gigantic
ferns. To the surprised ears of those unaware of their presence it came
first as a single note, then a chord, a stave, a vibrant meaning. It was
like a distant bugle call across a midnight plain. It swelled into a
challenge.
Then, echoing the hoof beats of horses, it swept into a glorious charge.
All the invisible instruments crashed valorously into their fullest
sounds. The arteries of the listeners throbbed a response to its
inspiration. Trusia, her eyes gleaming like twin stars, laid her hand
softly on the royal arm.
"Oh, sire," she cried, "it is our nation's battle song."
Carter sighed. He saw that her loyalty would hold her to an alliance
against her heart.
Possessed by the ardor of the song, the nobles, drawing their swords,
cried in ecstatic chorus, "For Krovitch! For Krovitch!" In their
pandemonium of joy, Carter's distress was unnoted.
He could not longer endure the sight of the prophetic association; it
seemed as if they were receiving nuptial felicitations as they stood
there side by side, so with a heavy heart he crept up to his own
apartment, where, at least, without stint, he could indulge his
thoughts. After the brilliance of the salon, the single light in his
room seemed puling and weak, so he crossed over and extinguished it. In
doing so, he found himself near the window, which, opening to the floor,
door wise, looked along the roof of the stone porch. A cooling sweep of
moonlight fell on Carter's face and urged him to peace of soul. He never
noticed the soft indulgence of Diana, for, as he glanced streetward, he
recalled the incident of Josef and the stranger. Drawing an easy-chair
into the zone of moonlight he lit a cigar and strove desperately to find
a clue.
"Two fingers--that means two something, at first glance. Has it any
further significance?" he pondered. "Of course it was prearranged, when
and how--and does Sobieska know? If he doesn't, Josef has correspondents
unknown to Krovitch--that alone looks dangerous. I'll look up Sobieska.
It's now twenty minutes of two," he said as he consulted his watch. A
swift inspiration caused him suddenly to raise his head. "I've got it.
The house is all still now. Two--two--two o'clock, that's the solution.
They're to meet at two o'clock. Where? I can't wait for Sobieska,
there's no time."
He bent over and slipped off his military boots and put on a pair of
moccasins he always wore about his room. Cautiously he opened the long
window and stepped gingerly upon the roof. "Josef won't dare go out the
front way; so to leave the grounds he'll have to pass beneath me, and I
can follow if he does." Placing one hand on the bow window beside him,
he leaned over to peer into the moonlit yard beneath.
After he had waited what seemed a double eternity he was rewarded by
seeing a shape disengage itself from the shadows about the servant's
quarters in the rear, and come and stand directly beneath his place of
observation. Somewhere a clock struck two. There was a grating sound as
of the moving of rusty hinges from the direction of the front of the
house, and the first comer had a companion with whom he instantly began
a whispered conversation, of which, strain his ears as he might, Carter
could catch only four words,--"Your report--and lists." The man whom he
supposed to be Josef drew a bulky sheaf of papers from his breast pocket
and passed them to the mysterious stranger. It was time to interfere,
Carter thought. Swinging by his arms until his legs encircled the stone
pillar he slid to the porch and, leaping to the ground, confronted the
conspirators. Instinctively his first act was to clutch the papers, and
as he did so he was struck from behind and fell unconscious to the
ground. As his senses passed from him, he was dimly conscious of a
surprise that neither man was Josef. A sleepy determination possessed
him to hold grimly to the papers. Then all was blank.
* * * * *
He wished they wouldn't annoy him, he remonstrated drowsily. When he was
asleep he didn't have that awful pain in his head. As he opened his eyes
he smiled vacuously into Trusia's face. That brought him to his senses
with a jerk. A candle sputtered fitfully in a gilt stand beside him on
the ground. Trusia's arm was about his shoulder. The King and, yes,
Sobieska were there. And that other figure, that was Josef. He glanced
at his own right hand. It was still tightly clenched, but held no
papers.
"How did you know I was here?" he inquired, his voice a trifle husky and
weak. He looked at the girl against whose breast he leaned; her reply
alone could satisfy him.
"Josef, in going around to see if all things were locked tight, heard
you groaning, and, not knowing who it was, gave the alarm."
Carter struggled to his feet and, though a trifle dizzy yet from the
blow of his unseen foe, was able to stagger into the house. There
Trusia, with a woman's tender solicitude for those for whom she cares,
without the intervention of servants poured from a near-by decanter, and
forced Carter to drain, a goblet of wine. Under the stimulant his
strength returned.
"If Count Sobieska will lend me his arm I think I can retire now. How I
came in the yard--I see you are all curious though too polite to
inquire--I'll tell you in the morning when I feel more fit. At present I
have either a strange head or a beehive on my shoulders, I don't know
which."
When he reached his room and the Count entering also had closed the
door, Carter threw off much of the assumed languor, and told the
Counselor the whole of the tale. The Krovitzer shook his head dubiously.
"Josef found you at quarter past three this morning--yet you say Josef
was not one of the two men. Did you see the faces of both?"
"Only a glance. Both were bearded. The one who came from the back part
of the house was dark, black eyebrows, heavy black beard, pallid face,
or so it looked in the moonlight. The visitor was undoubtedly Russian."
"It may have been soot," said Sobieska musingly. "I remember now that,
while the rest of his face looked remarkably like a freshly scrubbed
one, there was a long dark smear along one of Josef's eyebrows as we
brought you into the house; but that is not enough to convict him of the
treason, however strong a suspicion it arouses. Well, things are looking
a trifle as if Vladimar not only knows where we are, but why we are
here. We'll have to strike quickly--as soon, in fact, as we set foot in
Krovitch again."
XVIII
I SAW--I KNOW
The next day they left Paris. Almost the first person Trusia espied at
the railroad station was General Vladimar, a stately young aide, and the
Casper Haupt of yesterday. Carter felt a thrill of recognition for the
latter; he was the passer-by of the night before who had received
Josef's signal, and, yes, it was the man who had met the Hereditary
Servitor in the moonlit shadow of the porch.
The General bustled forward with easy appearance of boisterous
friendliness. The group split; the King was adroitly surrounded by
Sobieska, Muhlen-Sarkey and Carter, while Trusia and Sutphen advanced to
meet and check the too curious Russian.
He smiled blandly as he tacitly acknowledged to himself that he had been
gracefully repulsed in one direction. Glancing at the baggage of the
party, he bent over Trusia's hand with almost real deference.
"So soon?" he inquired with a gesture toward the trunks. "It is almost
as if I was hurrying you off," he laughed. Sutphen was reading what was
back of the man's eyes. The Russian seemed so sure of his game that
like a cat with a mouse, he played at friendliness. "I am going again to
Schallberg, soon," he continued in his same manner of large good nature,
"and hope the beastly hole will furnish more excitement this time. Could
you arrange it, eh, Colonel?" and he turned smilingly to the troubled
Krovitzer.
"We'll try," replied the veteran, "forewarned is always forearmed."
Vladimar assumed a look of gravity. "Let's not speak of arms, good
friends, for your--for all our sakes. There's my train! Adieu; _bon
voyage_." Without waiting to see the impression of his words, he left
them. They were all conscious of an unrest caused by the Russian's
advent. He had mentioned his return to Schallberg; could he know of what
was going forward? Trusia summoned the Hereditary Servitor.
That those waiting in Krovitch should be informed of their coming, Josef
was directed by her to send an already prepared cipher dispatch. The
white-haired servitor did so with commendable alacrity. Assured that the
operator had actually transmitted it, he filled in a blank for himself,
with the following simple message: "Reach Bregenz Thursday. Be on hand.
Josef." Dating it, he handed it to the official. The latter carefully
read and reread it, then turned quizzically to Josef.
"A thousand pardons, m'sieu," he said, "but you have given no address."
"How stupid," laughed the old fellow. "It is for Fraulein Julia Haupt,
Notions Merchant, 16 Hoffstrasse, Bregenz."
Long before their first objective was reached, the journey had proven
exceedingly irksome to one member of the party; while, for the greater
part of the time, a conscious restraint held both Trusia and Calvert in
a silence broken only when the monotony grew unbearable. Stovik, lost in
wonderment at his future regal state, and a trifle awed at the high-bred
girl beside him, added but little to the conversation. The Countess
Muhlen-Sarkey awoke only when there was a fitful attempt to break the
embarrassment which held all the others. The quondam Parisian openly
welcomed each stopping-place as an excuse to escape from such
uncongenial companionship. In the throngs on the platforms he found both
transient excitement and opportunities of stretching his cramped and
restless limbs. Josef conscientiously attended him on these brief
excursions, never relaxing for an instant his grave watchfulness over
his royal charge.
There was a protracted stop at Bregenz. Being at the entrance of the
Austrian Tyrol, there followed a rigid frontier examination of baggage.
The three men excused themselves to Trusia and descended to the station
in order to expedite matters as much as possible by their prompt
appearance and presence. Apparently by accident, in the pushing crowd,
Josef and his royal charge were separated from Carter, who was
temporarily lost to view. Having no apprehension on that score, they
gave no heed to his absence, but shouldered their way to the groups
about the piled-up trunks where they knew he would rejoin them. After
having their belongings properly _vised_, the pair stood watching the
panorama of the crowd.
Carter, at last catching sight of his fellow travelers, noted with some
apprehension that they were being pretty closely watched by an
alert-looking, middle-aged man. Receiving a covert nod from Josef, the
latter had disappeared at once into the human medley. With all
expedition, therefore, the American rejoined them. He read a question in
Josef's eyes which changed into a defiance as the latter read in the
newcomer's that the incident had not escaped him.
Just then Stovik caught him by the arm. "Look, Major," he cried,
indicating a vivacious Austrienne at no great distance from where they
stood, "isn't that a dainty morsel?" Carter turned to see that the
woman was freely indulging in an ocular conversation with His Majesty.
"Monsieur," Carter commenced in dignified remonstrance, only to be cut
short by a peevish King.
"See here, Carter, official business does not begin until we reach
Schallberg. I'll practically be a prisoner for life if all goes well. I
am not going to give up without just one more fling at the pomps and
vanities of this wicked world."
To emphasize his assertion, he smiled gaily at the pretty woman, whose
lips parted in audacious invitation.
"But the Duchess," Carter persisted, frowning.
"That's just it," Stovik replied unblushingly. "I am not accustomed to
such women as Her Grace. When near her I have to keep a tight rein on my
tongue for fear of being guilty of a _faux pas_. A pinch of a round
cheek, a warm kiss given and returned, an arm about a lithe waist, is
what I like. Her Grace is an iceberg."
Carter flushed angrily at the comparison. He restrained with some
difficulty the stinging words of rebuke which sprang to his lips in
Trusia's defense.
"Oh, I know what you would say," continued the royal scamp. "I admit her
patriotism, sacrifices, devotion, and all that sort of thing. Frankly,
though, we are too dissimilar ever to get along together. The
differences are temperamental. Environment and education have made an
insuperable barrier to our mutual happiness."
A hope he could not restrain lighted Carter's face at these careless
words. "Do you mean," he inquired gravely, simulating a solemnity he
felt but little, "do you mean that you will not marry Her Grace of
Schallberg?"
The King, coming close, looked searchingly into Carter's eyes and
laughed in faint raillery; he partially understood. His reply was
evasive. "It is not every one," he said, "who can gain a throne by
marrying a pretty girl." Shrugging his shoulders, he abruptly left his
companions and approached the woman, with whom he did not seem to have
any difficulty in establishing a cordial relation.
Carter reluctantly retraced his steps to the car. He was joined by
Josef. The American nodded his head savagely toward where the monarch
could be seen in high glee at his conquest. Taking this, apparently, as
an indication that his persuasive offices were desired in that
direction, Josef approached his royal master with deferential
remonstrance. He touched the elbow of the oblivious King, who instantly
turned. Irritated by what he could see of the express disapproval of
his conduct in the smug face of the servitor, he inquired harshly what
the fellow wanted.
"Beg pardon, m'sieu," stammered the old man, "but the train starts
immediately." If Josef's poor efforts had been intended to persuade the
return of the King they had been made with but little understanding of
the character of the man addressed. The contrary effect was produced.
"So do I," responded His Majesty curtly, annoyed at what he considered
an impertinent surveillance. "I shall rejoin the party at Vienna. You
may call me when we arrive. Not before." He turned his back upon the
discomfited Josef.