AND THE UNREST CURE
Erebus knew her brother well; she perceived that she was confronted by
what she called his obstinacy; and though his brazen-faced admission
had raised her to the very height of amazement and horror, she uttered
no protest. She knew that protest would be vain, that against his
obstinacy she was helpless. She wrung her hands and turned aside into
the wood, overwhelmed by his defection from one of their loftiest
ideals.
Then followed a period of strain. She assumed an attitude of very
haughty contempt toward the errant pair, devoted herself to Wiggins,
and let them coldly alone. From this attitude Wiggins was the chief
sufferer: the Terror had the princess and the princess had the Terror;
Erebus enjoyed her display of haughty contempt, but Wiggins missed the
strenuous life, the rushing games, in which you yelled so heartily. As
often as he could he stole away from the haughty Erebus and joined the
errant pair. It is to be feared that the princess found the kisses
sweeter for the ban Erebus had laid on them.
No one in the Deepings suspected that the missing princess was on
Deeping Knoll. There had been sporadic outbursts of suspicion that the
Twins had had a hand in her disappearance. But no one had any reason to
suppose that they and the princess had even been acquainted. Doctor
Arbuthnot, indeed, questioned both Wiggins and the Terror; but they
were mindful of the fact that Lady Rowington (they were always very
careful to address her as Lady Rowington) and not the princess, was at
the knoll, and were thus able to assure him with sufficient
truthfulness that they could not tell him where the princess was. The
bursts of suspicion therefore were brief.
But there was one man in England in whom suspicion had not died down.
Suspicion is, indeed, hardly the word for the feeling of Sir Maurice
Falconer in the matter. When he first read in his _Morning Post_ of the
disappearance of the Princess Elizabeth of Cassel-Nassau from Muttle
Deeping Grange he said confidently to himself: “The Twins again!” and
to that conviction his mind clung.
It was greatly strengthened by a study of the reproduction of the
Socialist manifesto on the front page of an enterprising halfpenny
paper. He told himself that Socialists are an educated, even
over-educated folk, and if one of them did set himself to draw a skull
and cross-bones, the drawing would be, if not exquisite, at any rate
accurate and unsmudged; that it was highly improbable that a Socialist
would spell desperate with two “a’s” in an important document without
being corrected by a confederate. On the other hand the drawing of the
skull and cross-bones seemed to him to display a skill to which the
immature genius of the Terror might easily have attained, while he
could readily conceive that he would spell desperate with two “a’s” in
any document.
But Sir Maurice was not a man to interfere lightly in the pleasures of
his relations; and he would not have interfered at all had it not been
for the international situation produced by the disappearance of the
princess. As it was he was so busy with lunches, race meetings,
dinners, theater parties, dances and suppers that he was compelled to
postpone intervention till the sixth day, when every Socialist organ
and organization from San Francisco eastward to Japan was loudly
disavowing any connection with the crime, the newspapers of England and
Germany were snarling and howling and roaring and bellowing at one
another, and the Foreign Office and the German Chancellery were wiring
frequent, carefully coded appeals to each other to invent some
plausible excuse for not mobilizing their armies and fleets. Even then
Sir Maurice, who knew too well the value of German press opinion, would
not have interfered, had not the extremely active wife of a cabinet
minister consulted him about the easiest way for her to sell twenty
thousand pounds’ worth of consols. He disliked the lady so strongly
that after telling her how she could best compass her design, he felt
that the time had come to ease the international situation.
With this end in view he went down to Little Deeping. His conviction
that the Twins were responsible for the disappearance of the princess
became certitude when he learned from Mrs. Dangerfield that they were
encamped on Deeping Knoll, and had been there since the day before that
disappearance. But he kept that certitude to himself, since it was his
habit to do things in the pleasantest way possible.
He forthwith set out across the fields and walked through the home wood
and park to Muttle Deeping Grange. He gave his card to the butler and
told him to take it straight to Miss Lambart, with whom he was on terms
of friendship rather than of acquaintance; and in less than three
minutes she came to him in the drawing-room.
She was looking anxious and worried; and as they shook hands he said:
“Is this business worrying you?”
“It is rather. You see, though the Baroness Von Aschersleben was in
charge of the princess, I am partly responsible. Besides, since I’m
English, they keep coming to me to have all the steps that are being
taken explained; and they want the same explanation over and over
again. Since the archduke came it has been very trying. I think that he
is more of an imbecile than any royalty I ever met.”
“I’m sorry to hear that they’ve been worrying you like this. If I’d
known, I’d have come down and stopped it earlier,” said Sir Maurice in
a tone of lively self-reproach.
“Stop it? Why, what can you do?” cried Miss Lambart, opening her eyes
wide in her surprise.
“Well, I have a strong belief that I could lead you to your missing
princess. But it’s only a belief, mind. So don’t be too hopeful.”
Miss Lambart’s pretty face flushed with sudden hope:
“Oh, if you could!” she cried.
“Put on your strongest pair of shoes, for I think that it will be rough
going part of the way, and order a motor-car, or carriage; if you can,
for the easier part; and we’ll put my belief to the test,” said Sir
Maurice briskly.
Miss Lambart frowned, and said in a doubtful tone: “I shan’t be able to
get a carriage or car without a tiresome fuss. They’re very unpleasant
people, you know. Could we take the baroness with us? She’ll _have_ to
be carried in something.”
“Is she very fat?”
“Very.”
“Then she’d never get to the place I have in mind,” said Sir Maurice.
“Is it very far? Couldn’t we walk to it?”
“It’s about three miles,” said Sir Maurice.
“Oh, that’s nothing—at least not for me. But you?” said Miss Lambart,
who had an utterly erroneous belief that Sir Maurice was something of a
weakling.
“I can manage it. Your companionship will stimulate my flagging limbs,”
said Sir Maurice. “Indeed, a real country walk on a warm and pleasant
afternoon will be an experience I haven’t enjoyed for years.”
Miss Lambart was not long getting ready; and they set out across the
park toward the knoll which rose, a rounded green lump, above the
surface of the distant wood. Sir Maurice had once walked to it with the
Twins; and he thought that his memory of the walk helped by a few
inquiries of people they met would take him to it on a fairly straight
course. It was certainly very pleasant to be walking with such a
charming companion through such a charming country.
As soon as they were free of the gardens Miss Lambart said eagerly:
“Where are we going to? Where do you think the princess is?”
“You’ve been here a month. Haven’t you heard of the Dangerfield twins?”
said Sir Maurice.
“Oh, yes; we were trying to find children to play with the princess;
and Doctor Arbuthnot mentioned them. But he said that they were not the
kind of children for her, though they were the only high and well-born
ones the baroness was clamoring for, in the neighborhood. He seemed to
think that they would make her rebellious.”
“Then the princess didn’t know them?” said Sir Maurice quickly.
“No.”
“I wonder,” said Sir Maurice skeptically.
“We found a little boy called Rupert Carrington to play with her—a very
nice little boy,” said Miss Lambart.
“Wiggins! The Twins’ greatest friend! Well, I’ll be shot!” cried Sir
Maurice; and he laughed.
“But do you mean to say that you think that these children have
something to do with the princess’ disappearance? How old are they?”
said Miss Lambart in an incredulous tone, for fixed very firmly in her
mind was the belief that the princess had been carried off by the
Socialists and foreigners.
“I never know whether they are thirteen or fourteen. But I do know that
nothing out of the common happens in the Deepings without their having
a hand in it. I have the honor to be their uncle,” said Sir Maurice.
“But they’d never be able to persuade her to run away with them. She’s
a timid child; and she has been coddled and cosseted all her life till
she is delicate to fragility,” Miss Lambart protested.
“If it came to a matter of persuasion, my nephew would persuade the
hind-leg, or perhaps even the fore-leg, off a horse,” said Sir Maurice
in a tone of deep conviction. “But it would not necessarily be a matter
of persuasion.”
“But what else could it be—children of thirteen or fourteen!” cried
Miss Lambart.
“I assure you that it might quite easily have been force,” said Sir
Maurice seriously. “My nephew and niece are encamped on Deeping Knoll.
It is honeycombed with dry sand-stone caves for the most part
communicating with one another. I can conceive of nothing more likely
than that the idea of being brigands occurred to one or other of them;
and they proceeded to kidnap the princess to hold her for ransom. They
might lure her to some distance from the Grange before they had
recourse to force.”
“It sounds incredible—children,” said Miss Lambart.
“Well, we shall see,” said Sir Maurice cheerfully. Then he added in a
more doubtful tone; “If only we can take them by surprise, which won’t
be so easy as it sounds.”
Miss Lambart feared that they were on a wild goose chase. But it was a
very pleasant wild goose chase; she was very well content to be walking
with him through this pleasant sunny land. When presently he turned the
talk to matters more personal to her, she liked it better still. He was
very sympathetic: he sympathized with her in her annoyance at having
had to waste so much of the summer on this tiresome _corvée_ of acting
as lady-in-waiting on the little princess; for, thanks to the
domineering jealousy of the baroness, it had been a tiresome _corvée_
indeed, instead of the pleasant occupation it might have been. He
sympathized with her in her vexation that she had been prevented by
that jealousy from improving the health or spirits of the princess.
He was warmly indignant when she told him of the behavior of the
baroness and the archduke during the last few days. The baroness had
tried to lay the blame of the disappearance of the princess on her; and
the archduke, a vast, sun-shaped, billowy mass of fat, infuriated at
having been torn from the summer ease of his Schloss to dash to
England, had been very rude indeed. She was much pleased by the warmth
of Sir Maurice’s indignation; but she protested against his making any
attempt to punish them, for she did not see how he could do it, without
harming himself. But she agreed with him that neither the grand duke,
nor the baroness deserved any consideration at her hands.
Their unfailing flow of talk shortened the way; and they soon were in
the broad aisle of the wood from which the narrow, thorn-blocked path
led to the knoll. Sir Maurice recognized the path; but he did not take
it. He knew that the Twins were far too capable not to have it guarded,
if the princess were indeed with them. He led the way into the wood on
the right of it, and slowly, clearing the way for her carefully, seeing
to it that she did not get scratched, or her frock get torn, he brought
her in a circuit round to the very back of the knoll.
They made the passage in silence, careful not to tread on a twig, Sir
Maurice walking a few feet in front, and all the while peering
earnestly ahead through the branches. Now and again a loud yell came
from the knoll; and once a chorus of yells. Finding that her coldness
(the Terror frankly called it sulking) had no effect whatever on her
insensible brother or the insensible princess, Erebus had put it aside;
and the strenuous life was once more in full swing.
Once after an uncommonly shrill and piercing yell Miss Lambart said in
an astonished whisper:
“That was awfully like the princess’ voice.”
“I thought you said she was delicate,” said Sir Maurice.
“So she was,” said Miss Lambart firmly.
Thanks to the careful noiselessness of their approach, they came unseen
and unheard to the screen of a clump of hazels at the foot of the
knoll, from which they could see the entrance of five caves in its
face. They waited, watching it.
It was silent; there was no sign of life; and Sir Maurice was beginning
to wonder whether they had, after all, been espied by his keen-eyed
kin, when a little girl, with a great plait of very fair hair hanging
down her back, came swiftly out of one of the bottom caves and slipped
into a clump of bushes to the right of it.
“The princess!” said Miss Lambart; and she was for stepping forward,
but Sir Maurice caught her wrist and checked her.
Almost on the instant an amazingly disheveled Wiggins appeared stealing
in a crouching attitude toward the entrance to the cave.
“That nice little boy, Rupert Carrington,” said Sir Maurice.
Wiggins had almost gained the entrance to the cave when, with an
ear-piercing yell, the princess sprang upon him and locked her arms
round his neck; they swayed, yelling in anything but unison, and came
to the ground.
“Delicate to fragility,” muttered Sir Maurice.
“Whatever has she been doing to herself?” said Miss Lambart faintly,
gazing at her battling yelling charge with amazed eyes.
“You don’t know the Twins,” said Sir Maurice.
On his words Erebus came flying down the face of the knoll at a
breakneck pace, yelling as she came, and flung herself upon the
battling pair. As far as the spectators could judge she and the
princess were rending Wiggins limb from limb; and they all three yelled
their shrillest. Then with a yell the Terror leaped upon them from the
cave and they were all four rolling on the ground while the aching
welkin rang.
Suddenly the tangle of whirling limbs was dissolved as Erebus and
Wiggins tore themselves free, gained their feet and fled. The princess
and the Terror sat up, panting, flushed and disheveled. The princess
wriggled close to the Terror, snuggled against him, and put an arm
round his neck.
“It was splendid!” she cried, and kissed him.
Unaware of the watching eyes, he submitted to the embrace with a very
good grace.
“Well, I never!” said Miss Lambart.
“These delicate children,” said Sir Maurice. “But it’s certainly a
delightful place for lovers. I’m so glad we’ve found it.”
He was looking earnestly at Miss Lambart; and she felt that she was
flushing.
“Come along!” she said quickly.
They came out of their clump, about fifteen yards from their quarry.
The quick-eyed Terror saw them first. He did not stir; but a curious,
short, sharp cry came from his throat. It seemed to loose a spring in
the princess. She shot to her feet and stood prepared to fly, frowning.
The Terror rose more slowly.
“Good afternoon, Highness. I’ve come to take you back to the Grange,”
said Miss Lambart.
“I’m not going,” said the princess firmly.
“I’m afraid you must. Your father is there; and he wants you,” said
Miss Lambart.
“No,” said the princess yet more firmly; and she took a step sidewise
toward the mouth of the cave.
The Terror nodded amiably to his uncle and put his hands in his
pockets; he wore the detached air of a spectator.
“But if you don’t come of yourself, we shall have to carry you,” said
Miss Lambart sternly.
The Terror intervened; he said in his most agreeable tone: “I don’t see
how you can. You can’t touch a princess you know. It would be
_lèse-majesté_. She’s told me all about it.”
The perplexity spread from the face of Miss Lambart to the face of Sir
Maurice Falconer; he smiled appreciatively. But he said: “Oh, come;
this won’t do, Terror, don’t you know! Her highness will _have_ to
come.”
“I don’t see how you’re going to get her. The only person who could use
force is the prince himself, and I don’t think he could be got up to
the knoll. He’s too heavy. I’ve seen him. And if you did get him up, I
don’t really think he’d ever find her in these caves,” said the Terror
in the dispassionate tone of one discussing an entirely impersonal
matter.
“Anyhow, I’m not going,” said the princess with even greater firmness.
Miss Lambart and Sir Maurice gazed at each other in an equal
perplexity.
“You see, there isn’t any real reason why she shouldn’t stay here,”
said the Terror. “She came to England to improve her health; and she’s
improving it ever so much faster here than she did at the Grange. You
can _see_ how improved it is. She eats nearly as much as Erebus.”
“She has certainly changed,” said Miss Lambart in a tart tone which
showed exactly how little she found it a change for the better.
“The Twins have a transforming effect on the young,” said Sir Maurice
in a tone of resignation.
“I am much better,” said the princess. “I’m getting quite strong, and I
can run ever so fast.”
She stretched out a tanning leg and surveyed it with an air of
satisfaction.
“But it’s nonsense!” said Miss Lambart.
“But what can you _do_?” said the Terror gently.
“I’ll chance the _lèse-majesté_!” cried Miss Lambart; and she sprang
swiftly forward.
The princess bolted into the cave and up it. Miss Lambart followed
swiftly. The cave ended in a dim passage, ten feet down, the passage
forked into three dimmer passages. Miss Lambart stopped short and tried
to hear from which of them came the sound of the footfalls of the
retiring princess. It came from none of the three; the floor of the
eaves was covered with sound-deadening sand. Miss Lambart walked back
to the entrance of the cave.
“She has escaped,” she said in a tone of resignation.
“Well, I really don’t see any reason for you to put yourself about for
the sake of that disagreeable crew at the Grange. You have done more
than you were called on to do in finding her. You can leave the
catching of her to them. There’s nothing to worry about: it’s quite
clear that this camping-out is doing her a world of good,” said Sir
Maurice in a comforting tone.
“Yes; there is that,” said Miss Lambart.
“Let me introduce my nephew. Hyacinth Dangerfield—better, much better,
known as the Terror—to you,” Said Sir Maurice.
The Terror shook hands with her, and said: “How do you do? I’ve been
wanting to know you: the princess—I mean Lady Rowington—likes you ever
so much.”
Miss Lambart was appeased.
“Perhaps you could give us some tea? We want it badly,” said Sir
Maurice.
“Yes, I can. We only drink milk and cocoa, of course. But we have some
tea, for Mum walked up to have tea with us yesterday,” said the Terror.
“I take it that she saw nothing of the princess,” said Sir Maurice.
“Oh, no; she didn’t see Lady Rowington. You must remember that she’s
Lady Rowington here, and not the princess at all,” said the Terror.
“Oh? I see now how it was that when you were asked at home, you knew
nothing about the princess,” said Sir Maurice quickly.
“Yes; that was how,” said the Terror blandly.
They had not long to wait for their tea, for the Twins had had their
kettle on the fire for some time. Sir Maurice and Miss Lambart enjoyed
the picnic greatly. On his suggestion an armistice was proclaimed. Miss
Lambart agreed to make no further attempt to capture the princess; and
she came out of hiding and took her tea with them.
Miss Lambart was, indeed, pleased with, at any rate, the physical
change in the princess, induced by her short stay at the knoll: she was
a browner, brighter, stronger child. Plainly, too, she was a more
determined child; and while, for her own part, Miss Lambart approved of
that change also, she was quite sure that it would not be approved by
the princess’ kinsfolk and train. But she was somewhat distressed that
the legs of the princess should be marred by so many and such deep
scratches. She had none of the experienced Twins’ quickness to see and
dodge thorns. She took Miss Lambart’s sympathy lightly enough; indeed
she seemed to regard those scratches as scars gained in honorable
warfare.
Miss Lambart saw plainly that the billowy archduke would have no little
difficulty in recovering her from this fastness; and since she was
assured that this green wood life was the very thing the princess
needed, she was resolved to give him no help herself. She was pleased
to learn that she was in no way responsible for the princess’
acquaintance with the Twins; that she had made their acquaintance and
cultivated their society while the careless baroness slept in the
peach-garden.
At half past five Sir Maurice and Miss Lambart took their leave of
their entertainers and set out through the wood. They had not gone a
hundred yards before a splendid yelling informed them that the
strenuous life had again begun.
Miss Lambart had supposed that they would return straight to Muttle
Deeping Grange with the news of their great discovery. But she found
that Sir Maurice had formed other plans. They were both agreed that no
consideration was owing to the billowy archduke. His manners deprived
him of any right to it. Accordingly, he took her to Little Deeping
post-office, and with many appeals to her for suggestions and help
wrote two long telegrams. The first was to the editor of the Morning
Post, the second was to the prime minister. In both he set forth his
discovery of the princess happily encamped with young friends in a
wood, and her reasons for running away to them. The postmistress
despatched them as he wrote them, that they might reach London and ease
the international situation at once. Since both the editor and the
prime minister were on friendly and familiar terms with him, there was
no fear that the telegrams would fail of their effect.
Then he took Miss Lambart to Colet House, to make the acquaintance of
Mrs. Dangerfield, and to inform her how nearly the Twins had plunged
Europe into Armageddon. Mrs. Dangerfield received the news with
unruffled calm. She showed no surprise at all; she only said that she
had found it very strange that a princess should vanish at Muttle
Deeping and the Twins have no hand in it. She perceived at once that
the princess had quite prevented any disclosure by assuming the name of
Lady Rowington.
Miss Lambart found her very charming and attractive, and was in no
haste to leave such pleasant companionship for the dull and unpleasant
atmosphere of Muttle Deeping Grange. It was past seven therefore when
the Little Deeping fly brought her to it; and she went to the archduke
with her news.
She found him in the condition of nervous excitement into which he
always fell before meals, too excited, indeed, to listen to her with
sufficient attention to understand her at the first telling of her
news. He was some time understanding it, and longer believing it. It
annoyed him greatly. He was taking considerable pleasure in standing on
a pedestal before the eyes of Europe as the bereaved Hohenzollern sire.
His first, and accurate, feeling was that Europe would laugh consumedly
when it learned the truth of the matter. His second feeling was that
his noble kinsman, who had been saying wonderful, stirring things about
the Terror’s manifesto and the stolen princess, would be furiously
angry with him.
He began to rave himself, fortunately in his own tongue of which Miss
Lambart was ignorant. Then when he grew cooler and paler his
oft-repeated phrase was: “Eet must be ’ushed!”
Miss Lambart did not tell him that Sir Maurice had taken every care
that the affair should not be hushed up. She did not wish every blow to
strike him at once. Then the dinner-bell rang; and in heavy haste he
rolled off to the dining-room.
Miss Lambart was betaking herself to her bedroom to dress, when the
archduke’s equerry, the young mustached Count Zerbst came running up
the stairs, bidding her in the name of his master come to dinner at
once, as she was. She took no heed of the command, dressed at her ease,
and came down just as the archduke, perspiring freely after his
struggle with the hors-d’oeuvres, soup and fish, was plunging upon his
first entrée.
He ate it with great emphasis; and as he ate it he questioned her about
the place where his daughter was encamped and the friends she was
encamped with. Miss Lambart described the knoll and its position as
clearly as she could, and of the Twins she said as little as possible.
Then he asked her with considerable acerbity why she had not exercised
her authority and brought the princess back with her.
Miss Lambart said that she had no authority over the princess; and that
if she had had it, the princess would have disregarded it wholly, and
that it was impossible to haul a recalcitrant Hohenzollern through
miles of wood by force, since the persons of Hohenzollerns were
sacrosanct.
The archduke said that the only thing to do was to go himself and
summon home his truant child. Miss Lambart objected that it would mean
hewing expensively a path through the wood wide enough to permit his
passage, and it was improbable that the owner of the wood would allow
it. Thereupon the baroness volunteered to go. Miss Lambart with
infinite pleasure explained that for her too an expensive path must be
hewn, and went on to declare that if they reached the knoll, there was
not the slightest chance of their finding the princess in its caves.
The archduke frowned and grunted fiercely in his perplexity. Then he
struck the table and cried:
“Count Zerbst shall do eet! To-morrow morning! You shall ’eem lead to
ze wood. ’E shall breeng ’er.”
Miss Lambart protested that to wander in the Deeping woods with a
German count would hardly be proper.
“Brobare? What ees ‘brobare’?” said the archduke.
“_Convenable_,” said Miss Lambart.
The archduke protested that such considerations must not be allowed to
militate against his being set free to return to Cassel-Nassau at the
earliest possible moment. Miss Lambart said that they must. In the end
it was decided that a motor-car should be procured from Rowington and
that Miss Lambart should guide the archduke and the count to the
entrance of the path to the knoll, the count should convey to the
princess her father’s command to return to the Grange, and if she
should refuse to obey, he should haul her by force to the car.
Miss Lambart made no secret of her strong conviction that he would
never set eyes, much less hands, on the princess. Count Zerbst’s smooth
pink face flushed rose-pink all round his fierce little mustache, which
in some inexplicable, but unfortunate, fashion accentuated the
extraordinary insignificance of his nose; his small eyes sparkled; and
he muttered fiercely something about “sdradegy.” He looked at Miss
Lambart very unamiably. He felt that she was not impressed by him as
were the maidens of Cassel-Nassau; and he resented it. He resolved to
capture the princess at any cost.
The archduke fumed furiously to find, next morning in the _Morning
Post_ the true story of his daughter’s disappearance; and he was fuming
still when the car came from Rowington. It was a powerful car and a
weight-carrier; Miss Lambart, who had telephoned for it, had been
careful to demand a weight-carrier. With immense fuss the archduke
disposed himself in the back of the tonneau which he filled with
billowy curves. The moment he was settled in it Miss Lambart sprang to
the seat beside the driver, and insisted on keeping it that she might
the more easily direct his course.
They were not long reaching the wood; and the chauffeur raised no
objection to taking the car up the broad turfed aisle from which ran
the path to the knoll. At the entrance of it the count stepped out of
the car; and the archduke gave him his final instructions with the air
of a Roman father; he was to bring the princess in any fashion, but he
was to bring her at once.
In a last generous outburst he cried: “Pooll ’er by the ear! Bud breeng
’er.”
The count said that he would, and entered the path with a resolute and
martial air. Miss Lambart was not impressed by it. She thought that in
his tight-fitting clothes of military cut and his apparently
tighter-fitting patent leather boots he looked uncommonly out of place
under the green wood trees. She remembered how lightly the Twins and
the princess went; and she had the poorest expectation of his getting
near any of them. Also, as they had come up the aisle of the woods she
had been assailed by a late but serious doubt, whether a
weight-carrying motor-car was quite the right kind of vehicle in which
to approach the lair of the Twins with hostile intent. Its powerful,
loud-throbbing engine had seemed to her to advertise their advent with
all the competence of a trumpet.
Her doubt was well-grounded. The quick ears of Erebus were the first to
catch its throbbing note, and that while it was still two hundred yards
from the entrance of the path to the knoll. Ever since the departure of
Miss Lambart and Sir Maurice the Twins had been making ready against
invasion, conveying their provisions and belongings to the secret
caves.
The secret caves had not been secret before the coming of the Twins to
the knoll. They were high up on the outer face of it, airy and well
lighted by two inaccessible holes under an overhanging ledge. But the
entrance to them was by a narrow shaft which rose sharply from a cave
in the heart of the knoll. On this shaft the Twins had spent their best
pains for two and a half wet days the year before; and they had reduced
some seven or eight feet of it to a passage fifteen inches high and
eighteen inches broad. The opening into this passage could, naturally,
be closed very easily; and then, in the dim light, it was hard indeed
to distinguish it from the wall of the cave. It had been a somewhat
difficult task to get their blankets and provisions through so narrow a
passage; but it had been finished soon after breakfast.
They were on the alert for invaders; and as soon as they were quite
sure that the keen ears of Erebus had made no mistake and that a car
was coming up the board aisle, the princess and the Terror squirmed
their way up to the secret caves; and Erebus closed the passage behind
them, and with small chunks filled in the interstices between the
larger pieces of stone so that it looked more than ever a part of the
wall of the cave. Then she betook herself to a point of vantage among
the bushes on the face of the knoll, from which she could watch the
entrance of the path and the coming of the invaders.
The archduke, lying back at his ease in the car, and smoking an
excellent cigar, spoke with assurance of catching the one-fifteen train
from Rowington to London and the night boat from Dover to Calais. Miss
Lambart wasted no breath encouraging him in an expectation based on the
efforts of Count Zerbst on the knoll. She stepped out of the car and
strolled up and down on the pleasant turf. Presently she saw a figure
coming down the aisle from the direction of Little Deeping; when it
came nearer, with considerable pleasure she recognized Sir Maurice.
When he came to them she presented him to the archduke as the
discoverer of his daughter’s hiding-place. The archduke, mindful of the
fact that Sir Maurice had given the true story of the disappearance to
the world, received him ungraciously. Miss Lambart at once told Sir
Maurice of the errand of Count Zerbst and of her very small expectation
that anything would come of it. Sir Maurice agreed with her; and the
fuming archduke assured them that the count was the most promising
soldier in the army of Cassel-Nassau. Then Sir Maurice suggested that
they should go to the knoll and help the count. Miss Lambart assented
readily; and they set out at once. They skirted the barriers of thorns
in the path and came to the knoll. It was quiet and seemed utterly
deserted.
They called loudly to the count several times; but he did not answer.
Miss Lambart suggested that he was searching the caves and that they
should find him and help him search them; they plunged into the caves
and began to hunt for him. They did not find the count; neither did
they find the princess nor the Twins. They shouted to him many times as
they traversed the caves; but they had no answer.
This was not unnatural, seeing that he left the knoll just before they
reached it. He had mounted the side of it, calling loudly to the
princess. He had gone through half a dozen caves, calling loudly to the
princess. No answer had come to his calling. He had kept coming out of
the labyrinth on to the side of the knoll. At one of these exits, to
his great joy, he had seen the figure of a little girl, dressed in the
short serge skirt and blue jersey he had been told the princess was
wearing, slipping through the bushes at the foot of the knoll. With a
loud shout he had dashed down it in pursuit and plunged after her into
the wood. Her sunbonnet was still in sight ahead among the bushes, and
by great good fortune he succeeded in keeping it in sight. Once,
indeed, when he thought that he had lost it for good and all, it
suddenly reappeared ahead of him; and he was able to take up the chase
again. But he did not catch her. Indeed he did not lessen the distance
between them to an extent appreciable by the naked eye. For a delicate
princess she was running with uncommon speed and endurance. Considering
his dress and boots and the roughness of the going, he, too, was
running with uncommon speed and endurance. It was true that his face
was a very bright red and that his so lately stiff, tall, white collar
lay limply gray round his neck. But he was not near enough to his
quarry to be mortified by seeing that she was but faintly flushed by
her efforts and hardly perspiring at all. All the while he was buoyed
up by the assurance that he would catch her in the course of the next
hundred yards.
Then his quarry left the wood, by an exceedingly small gap, and ran
down a field path toward the village of Little Deeping. By the time the
count was through the gap she had a lead of a hundred yards. To his
joy, in the open country, on the smoother path, he made up the lost
ground quickly. When they reached the common, he was a bare forty yards
behind her. He was not surprised when in despair she left the path and
bolted into the refuge of an old house that stood beside it.
Mopping his hot wet brow he walked up the garden path with a victorious
air, and knocked firmly on the door. Sarah opened it; and he demanded
the instant surrender of the princess. Sarah heard him with an
exasperating air of blank bewilderment. He repeated his demand more
firmly and loudly.
Sarah called to Mrs. Dangerfield: “Please, mum: ’ere’s a furrin
gentleman asking for a princess. I expect as it’s that there missing
one.”
“Do nod mock! She ’ees ’ere!” cried the count fiercely.
Then Mrs. Dangerfield came out of the dining-room where she had been
arranging flowers, and came to the door.
“The princess is not here,” she said gently.
“But I haf zeen ’er! She haf now ad once coom! She ’ides!” cried the
count.
At that moment Erebus came down the hall airily swinging her sunbonnet
by its strings. The eyes of the count opened wide; so did his mouth.
“I expect he means me. At least he’s run after me all the way from the
knoll here,” said Erebus in a clear quiet voice.
The count’s eyes returned to their sockets; and he had a sudden
outburst of fluent German. He did not think that any of his hearers
could understand that portion of his native tongue he was using; he
hoped they could not; he could not help it if they did.
Mrs. Dangerfield looked from him to Erebus thoughtfully. She did not
suppose for a moment that it was mere accident that had caused the
count to take so much violent exercise on such a hot day. She was sorry
for him. He looked so fierce and young and inexperienced to fall foul
of the Twins.
Erebus caught her mother’s thoughtful eye. At once she cried
resentfully: “How could I possibly tell it was the sunbonnet which made
him think I was the princess? He never asked me who I was. He just
shouted once and ran after me. I was hurrying home to get some salad
oil and get back to the knoll by lunch.”
“Yes, you would run all the way,” said Mrs. Dangerfield patiently.
“Well, you’d have run, too, Mum, with a foreigner running after you!
Just look at that mustache! It would frighten anybody!” cried Erebus in
the tone of one deeply aggrieved by unjust injurious suspicions.
“Yes, I see,” said her mother with undiminished patience.
She invited the count to come in and rest and get cool; and she allayed
his fine thirst with a long and very grateful whisky and soda. He
explained to her at length, three times, how he had come to mistake
Erebus for the flying princess, for he was exceedingly anxious not to
appear foolish in the eyes of such a pretty woman. Erebus left them
together; she made a point of taking a small bottle of salad oil to the
knoll. They had no use for salad oil indeed; but it had been an
after-thought, and she owed it to her conscience to take it. That would
be the safe course.
In the meantime the archduke was sitting impatiently in the car,
looking frequently at his watch. He had expected the count to return
with the princess in, at the longest, a quarter of an hour. Then he had
expected Miss Lambart and Sir Maurice to return with the count and the
princess in, at the longest, a quarter of an hour. None of them
returned. The princess was sitting on a heap of bracken in the highest
of the secret caves, and the Terror was taking advantage of this
enforced quiet retirement to brush out her hair. The count sat drinking
whisky and soda and explained to Mrs. Dangerfield that he had not
really been deceived by the sunbonnet and that he was very pleased that
he had been deceived by it, since it had given him the pleasure of her
acquaintance. Miss Lambart and Sir Maurice sat on a bank and talked
seriously about everything and certain other things, but chiefly about
themselves and each other.
So the world wagged as the archduke saw the golden minutes which lay
between him and the one-fifteen slipping away while his daughter
remained uncaught. He chafed and fumed. His vexation grew even more
keen when he came to the end of his cigar and found that the
thoughtless count had borne away the case. He appealed to the chauffeur
for advice; but the chauffeur, a native of Rowington and ignorant of
Beaumarchais, could give him none.
At half past twelve the archduke rose to his full height in the car,
bellowed: “Zerbst! Zerbst! Zerbst!” and sank down again panting with
the effort.
[Illustration: The archduke bellowed: “Zerbst! Zerbst! Zerbst!”]
The chauffeur looked at him with compassionate eyes. The archduke’s
bellow, for all his huge round bulk, was but a thin and reedy cry. No
answer came to it; no one came from the path to the knoll.
“P’raps if I was to give him a call, your Grace,” said the chauffeur,
somewhat complacent at displaying his knowledge of the right way to
address an archduke.
“Yes, shout!” said the archduke quickly.
The chauffeur rose to his full height in the car and bellowed: “Zerbst!
Zerbst! Zerbst!”
No answer came to the call; no one came from the path to the knoll.
In three minutes the archduke was grinding his teeth in a black fury.
Then with an air of inspiration he cried: “I shout—you shout—all ad
vonce!”
“Every little ’elps,” said the chauffeur politely.
With that they both rose to their full height in the car and together
bellowed: “Zerbst! Zerbst! Zerbst!”
No answer came to it; no one came from the path to the knoll.
On his sunny bank on the side of the knoll Sir Maurice said carelessly:
“He seems to be growing impatient.”
“He isn’t calling us. And it’s no use our going back without either the
princess or the count,” said Miss Lambart quickly.
“Not the slightest,” said Sir Maurice; and he drew her closer, if that
were possible, to him and kissed her.
To this point had their cooperation in the search for the princess and
their discussion of everything and certain other things ripened their
earlier friendship. They, or rather Sir Maurice, had even been
discussing the matter of being married at an early date.
“I don’t think I shall let you go back to the Grange at all. They don’t
treat you decently, you know—not even for royalties,” he went on.
“Oh, it wouldn’t do not to go back—at any rate for to-night—though, of
course, there’s no point in my staying longer, since the princess isn’t
there,” said Miss Lambart.
“You don’t know: perhaps Zerbst has caught her by now and is hauling
her to her circular sire,” said Sir Maurice. “The Twins can not be
successful all the time.”
“We ought to go and search those caves thoroughly,” said Miss Lambart.
“That wouldn’t be the slightest use,” said Sir Maurice in a tone of
complete certainty. “If the princess is in the caves, she is not in an
accessible one. But as a matter of fact she is quite as likely, or even
likelier, to be at the Grange. The Twins are quite intelligent enough
to hide princesses in the last place you would be likely to look for
them. It’s no use our worrying ourselves about her; besides, we’re very
comfortable here. Why not stay just as we are?”
They stayed there.
But the archduke’s impatience was slowly rising to a fury as the
minutes that separated him from the one-fifteen slipped away. At ten
minutes to one he was seized by a sudden fresh fear lest the searchers
should be so long returning as to make him late for lunch; and at once
he despatched the chauffeur to find them and bring them without delay.
The chauffeur made no haste about it. He had heard of the caves on
Deeping Knoll and had always been curious to see them. Besides, he made
it a point of honor not to smoke on duty; he had not had a pipe in his
mouth since eleven o’clock; and he felt now off duty. He explored half
a dozen caves thoroughly before he came upon Miss Lambart and Sir
Maurice and gave them the archduke’s message. They joined him in his
search for Count Zerbst, going through the caves and calling to him
loudly.
The one-fifteen had gone; and the hour of lunch was perilously near.
The face of the archduke was dark with the dread that he would be late
for it. There was a terrifying but sympathetic throbbing not far from
his solar plexus.
Every two or three minutes he rose to his full height in the car and
bellowed: “Zerbst! Zerbst! Zerbst!”
Still no answer came to the call; no one came from the path to the
knoll.
Then at the very moment at which on more fortunate days he was wont to
sink heavily, with his mouth watering, into a large chair before a
gloriously spread German table, he heard the sound of voices; and the
chauffeur, Miss Lambart and Sir Maurice came out of the path to the
knoll.
They told the duke that they had neither seen nor heard anything of the
princess, her hosts, or Count Zerbst. The archduke cursed his equerry
wheezily but in the German tongue, and bade the chauffeur get into the
car and drive to the Grange as fast as petrol could take him.
Sir Maurice bade Miss Lambart good-by, saluted the archduke, and the
car went bumping down the turfed aisle. Once in the road the chauffeur,
anxious to make trial at an early moment of the archducal hospitality,
let her rip. But half a mile down the road, they came upon a
slow-going, limping wayfarer. It was Count Zerbst. After a long
discussion with Mrs. Dangerfield he had decided that since Erebus had
slipped away back to the knoll, it would be impossible for him to find
his way to it unguided; and he had set out for Muttle Deeping Grange.
In the course of his chase of Erebus and his walk back his patent
leather boots had found him out with great severity; and he was indeed
footsore. He stepped into the grateful car with a deep sigh of relief.
A depressed party gathered round the luncheon table; Miss Lambart alone
was cheerful. The archduke had been much shaken by his terrors and
disappointments of the morning. Count Zerbst had acquired a deep
respect for the intelligence of the young friends of the princess; and
he had learned from Mrs. Dangerfield, who had discussed the matter with
Sir Maurice, that since her stay at the knoll was doing the princess
good, and was certainly better for her than life with the crimson
baroness at the Grange, she was not going to annoy and discourage her
charitable offspring by interfering in their good work for trivial
social reasons. The baroness was bitterly angry at their failure to
recover her lost charge.
They discussed the further measures to be taken, the archduke and the
baroness with asperity, Count Zerbst gloomily. He made no secret of the
fact that he believed that, if he dressed for the chase and took to the
woods, he would in the end find and capture the princess, but it might
take a week or ten days. The archduke cried shame upon a strategist of
his ability that he should be baffled by children for a week or ten
days. Count Zerbst said sulkily that it was not the children who would
baffle him, but the caves and the woods they were using. At last they
began to discuss the measure of summoning to their aid the local
police; and for some time debated whether it was worth the risk of the
ridicule it might bring upon them.
Miss Lambart had listened to them with distrait ears since she had
something more pleasant to give her mind to. But at last she said with
some impatience: “Why can’t the princess stay where she is? That
open-air life, day and night, is doing her a world of good. She is
eating lots of good food and taking ten times as much exercise as ever
she took in her life before.”
“Eembossible! Shall I live in a cave?” cried the baroness.
“It doesn’t matter at all where you live. It is the princess we are
considering,” said Miss Lambart unkindly, for she had come quite to the
end of her patience with the baroness.
“Drue!” said the archduke quickly.
“Shall eet zen be zat ze princess live ze life of a beast in a gave?”
cried the baroness.
“She isn’t,” said Miss Lambart shortly. “In fact she’s leading a far
better and healthier and more intelligent life than she does here. The
doctor’s orders were never properly carried out.”
“Ees zat zo?” said the archduke, frowning at the baroness.
“Eengleesh doctors! What zey know? Modern!” cried the baroness
scornfully.
In loud and angry German the archduke fell furiously upon the baroness,
upbraiding her for her disobedience of his orders. The baroness
defended herself loudly, alleging that the princess would by now be
dying of a galloping consumption had she had all the air and water the
doctors had ordered her. But the archduke stormed on. At last he had
some one on whom he could vent his anger with an excellent show of
reason; and he vented it.
Presently, for the sake of Miss Lambart’s counsel in the matter, they
returned to the English tongue and discussed seriously the matter of
the princess remaining at the knoll. They found many objections to it,
and the chief of them was that it was not safe for three children to be
encamped by themselves in the heart of a wood.
Miss Lambart grew tired of assuring them that the Twins were more
efficient persons than nine Germans out of ten; and at last she said:
“Well, Highness, to set your fears quite at rest, I will go and stay at
the knoll myself. Then you can go back to Cassel-Nassau with your mind
at ease; and I will undertake that the princess comes to you in better
health than if she had stayed on here.”
“Bud ’ow would she be zafer wiz a young woman, ignorant and—” cried the
baroness, furious at this attempt to usurp her authority.
“Goot!” cried the archduke cutting her short; and his face beamed at
the thought of escaping forthwith to his home. “Eet shall be zo! And ze
baroness shall go alzo to Cassel-Nassau zo zoon az I zend a lady who do
as ze doctors zay.”
So it was settled; and Miss Lambart was busy for an hour collecting
provisions, arranging that fresh provisions should be brought to the
path to the knoll every morning and preparing and packing the fewest
possible number of garments she would need during her stay.
Then she bade the relieved archduke good-by; and set out in the
Rowington car to the knoll. Not far from the park gates she met Sir
Maurice strolling toward the Grange, and took him with her. At the
entrance of the path to the knoll they took the baskets of provisions
and Miss Lambart’s trunk from the car, and dismissed it. Then they went
to the knoll.
It was silent; there were no signs of the presence of man about it. But
after Sir Maurice had shouted three times that they came in
peace-bearing terms, Erebus and Wiggins came out of one of the caves
above them and heard the news. She made haste to bear it to the Terror
and the princess who received it with joy. They had already been cooped
up long enough in the secret caves and were eager to plunge once more
into the strenuous life. They welcomed Miss Lambart warmly; and the
princess was indeed pleased to have her fears removed and her position
at the knoll secure.
They made Miss Lambart one of themselves and admitted her to a full
share of the strenuous life. She played her part in it manfully. Even
Erebus, who was inclined to carp at female attainments, was forced to
admit that as a brigand, an outlaw, or a pirate she often shone.
But Sir Maurice, who was naturally a frequent visitor, never caught her
engaged in the strenuous life. Indeed, on his arrival she disappeared;
and always spent some minutes after his arrival removing traces of the
speed at which she had been living it, and on cooling down to life on
the lower place. Both of them found the knoll a delightful place for
lovers.