IN DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS.
It was late on the following morning before the Castle was awake. It
almost seemed as if the guests had waited for the appearance of the
reassuring daylight before they ventured from their rooms. Four huge
fires roared in the four great chimneys round the vast hall where the
breakfast was in progress.
Sagan, in his weather-stained hunting suit and leggings, stood at the
upper window overlooking the courtyard where the huntsmen and gaunt
dogs, the famous Sagan boarhounds, were already collected, in
anticipation of the boar-hunt arranged to take place on that day. The
sky had cleared, but the tsa raged and howled after its perennial custom
about the Castle.
Madame de Sagan, entering later, cast a nervous glance at the grim red
face and bull-neck, and then fell into a laughing conversation with the
people round her, although her heart felt cold. She was far from being a
brave woman, although she joined so gaily in the merry talk passing from
side to side; but her marvellous self-control was no more than the
self-control common to women of her social standing. It is secondary
strength, not innate but acquired, of which the finest instance is a
matter of history, and was witnessed within the walls of the
Conciergerie during the Reign of Terror, where men and women
unflinchingly carried on a hollow semblance of the joyous comedy of life
till they mounted laughing into the tumbrils.
Although nothing was known about the events of the previous night except
by those who took part in them, a sense of excitement pervaded the
party. The strained relations existing between the Duke and his possible
successor gave rise to an amount of vague expectation and conjecture.
Anything might happen with such dangerous elements present in the
atmosphere.
Therefore when Rallywood, booted and spurred, passed up the hall, his
entrance attracted every eye. He walked straight up to the Count at his
distant window and saluting, spoke for perhaps a minute in a low voice.
At the first sentence Sagan swung round, his lowering face growing
darker as he listened. Then, advancing to the head of the table prepared
for the entertainment of the Duke, he called the attention of all
present by striking it loudly with the riding-whip he carried.
An instant hush settled upon the room. Sagan glared round with waiting
eyes, and in the pause the tsa broke in a crash upon the Castle front
with the pebble-shifting sound of a breaker.
'I have to beg the favour of your attention for a moment,' the Count's
words rang out. 'Captain Rallywood reports that an officer of his
Highness's Guard is missing--Captain Colendorp. Inquiries have been made
but he cannot be found. It seems that he was last seen leaving the
billiard-room. If anyone in the hall can give us further information,
will they be good enough to do so?'
Valerie raised her eyes to Rallywood, who stood behind the Count. As he
met them the young man's stern face softened suddenly.
M. Blivinski, who happened to be sitting beside her, caught the exchange
of looks, and for a moment was puzzled. Selpdorf's daughter? Well, well,
the English are a wonderful people, he said to himself. Neither subtle
nor gifted, but lucky. Lucky enough to give the devil odds and beat him!
Here was Selpdorf laying his plans deeply and with consummate skill,
while this pretty clever daughter of his was ready to give him away
because a heavy dragoon of the favoured race smiled at her across a
breakfast table. Pah! The ways of Providence are inscrutable; it remains
for mortal men to do what they may to turn them into more convenient
channels.
Then there was Counsellor, whose political importance could not be
denied. Yet he did the bluff thing bluffly and said the obvious thing
obviously, and blundered on from one great city to another, but
blundered triumphantly! Still there were compensations. The good God
had given the Russian craft and a silent tongue, and a facility for
telling a lie seasonably.
Elmur was by a fraction of a second too late to see what the Russian had
seen. Valerie was very white, but she was talking indifferently to M.
Blivinski with her eyes fixed upon her plate. It was some time before
she seemed to grow conscious of Elmur's gaze; a slight fleck of colour
showed and paled in her cheeks, and then at length her long lashes
fluttered up and the German perceived in the darkness of her eyes a
trace of unshed tears.
'Mademoiselle, you are tired,' he said with solicitude.
'Yes,' she answered smiling. 'But we are going back to Révonde in a day
or two, and then I will wipe out the remembrance of everything that has
happened at Sagan from my mind forever!'
Elmur was about to reply when Sagan spoke again.
'No one appears to have heard or seen anything of Captain Colendorp. We
will have the dogs out, Captain Rallywood. Pray tell his Highness that
in the course of an hour or two we hope to be able to tell him where our
man has got to. His absence is doubtless due to some trifling cause.'
As Rallywood retired Sagan cast a comprehensive glance around the
tables, and noted Counsellor's absence with a sinister satisfaction.
All the morning he had been speculating upon the course Counsellor
would pursue after the rencontre of the previous night. Most likely
disappear from the Castle. He would not dare to brazen it out. Sagan
argued that the British envoy could not be very sure of his position
yet. What had he proposed to the Duke? And how had the Duke answered
him? What was to be the result of the visit, or would there be any?
Selpdorf held the Duke's confidence. He must checkmate England and
openly throw his influence into the German scale. No half courses could
any longer avail in Maäsau.
Here his reflections were interrupted, for Counsellor's big burly figure
was bending over Madame de Sagan's chair, before he accepted the seat at
her side with the assured manner of a favored guest.
Even the Russian attaché blinked. Ah, these islanders! What next?
As an immediate result Count Sagan was forced to accept the situation
thrust upon him.
'Have you slept well, Major?' he inquired sardonically. 'No bad dreams,
eh?'
'I dream seldom--and I make it a point in the morning to forget bad
dreams if I have had any,' replied Counsellor, with a good-humored
raising of his big eyebrows.
'That is wise,' said Sagan, 'for dreams and schemes of the night rarely
have solid foundations.'
'So they say, my lord, but I do not trouble myself about these things.
A man of my age is forced to consecrate his best energies to his
digestion.'
The Duke had decided upon returning to Révonde during the forenoon, but
most of the guests were to remain for the projected boar-hunt. The
hunting-party had already started when Blivinski and Counsellor drove
out of the Castle courtyard on their way to the nearest railway station,
which lay under the mountains some miles away.
The _tsa_ had blown the snow into heavy drifts, leaving the roads and
other exposed places bare and almost clean-swept. Near the station they
passed a squadron of the Guard sent by Wallenloup to escort the Duke
back to the capital.
The pair in the carriage talked little, but when the jingling of
accoutrements had died away Blivinski said in an emotionless tone:
'You met with Count Sagan last night then--in your dreams?'
'Yes, or Duke Gustave would have been over the border by this morning.'
'Ah!'
'And history goes to prove that reigning sovereigns are fragile
ware--they cannot be borrowed without danger.'
'You allude to Bulgaria?' Blivinski asked promptly, with an air of
genial interest.
'Why, for the sake of argument, Alexander can stand as a case in
point.'
'If--I say if--we borrowed him, we also returned him.'
Counsellor's reply was characteristic, and justified his companion's
opinion of his race.
'Damaged--so they say.'
Blivinski considered the dreary landscape.
'We must not believe all we hear. In diplomatic relations, my friend,
ethics cease to exist. Diplomacy is after all a simple game--even
elementary--a magnificent beggar-my-neighbour which we continue to play
into eternity.'
'But there are rules ... even in beggar-my-neighbour,' said the
Counsellor.
Blivinski kicked the rug softly from his feet as the carriage drew up.
'One rule, only one,' he remarked; 'Britain loves to feign the Pharisee.
We smile--we others--because we understand that her rule and ours is
after all the same--self-interest.'
'If that be the case we come back to the law of the Beast,' said the
Counsellor.
The Russian put his gloved hand upon the open door and looked back over
his shoulder at Counsellor.
'Always, my dear friend, by very many turnings--but always.'