At Kis-Imre the day dragged on leaden-footed. Luncheon, then a long
afternoon, then dinner. Time wore on and Elza had not returned.
Rosemary was ready, dressed for the journey; her suit-case was packed.
She was only taking a very little luggage with her as she had every
intention of returning as soon as her errand in London was accomplished.
She would not for the world have left Elza alone too long with her
troubles. She made herself no illusions with regard to the telegram
which she had sent from the village. It would, she was sure, be
intercepted, and Naniescu would not allow it to go. Rosemary's intention
was to send another directly she was the other side of the frontier.
This would prevent the articles being published hurriedly, and, of
course, she would be in London thirty-six hours later.
Indeed, the odious deed which Peter had planned and carried through
appeared to her now not only in its hideousness but in its futility.
What did he hope to accomplish? Did he know her so little as to imagine
that she would merely call the occurrence an adverse blow of Fate and
quietly sit down under it, be content to send one wire which would be
intercepted? It was futile! Futile! She was a British subject. She had a
British passport. No power on earth could stop her from going to London
or to the outermost ends of the earth if she had a mind. No one. Not
even Jasper. Least of all Jasper!
But in the meanwhile Elza had not returned. Time went on, slowly but
certainly. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock--ten o'clock. Unless Elza was
home within the next half-hour Rosemary could not start for London
before the next night. There was only one through train to Budapest
every twenty-four hours, the midnight express! Any other slow train
would be no help for getting the communication with the Orient Express.
And Rosemary could not go to London without knowing what Elza's wishes
were. Elza was to decide--not she. And Elza had not come home. Soon
after ten o'clock Rosemary sent Rosa round to Maurus' apartments to ask
if she might see him. She hoped that he could perhaps tell her something
definite about Elza's movements. Rosemary found him very much altered
since last she had seen him. He looked well in health, but his whole
expression, even his appearance, seemed strange. The gipsy strain was
more apparent, the eyes seemed darker and more restless, the mouth
redder and fuller, and the nose more hooked and narrower across the
bridge. But he talked very quietly and rationally with Rosemary. He was
not anxious about Elza, because he had not really expected to see her
back this evening.
"She was going to Cluj first," he said, "to see Philip and Anna.
Probably it took time to get permission to visit the children in prison.
Then after that she was going to Ujlak. I suppose she wanted to let
Charlotte know how little Anna is getting on. Poor child! Poor child!"
Maurus went on slowly, wagging his head. "Isn't it pitiable? She is such
a nice little girl. And my Philip--my Philip----"
He rambled on, and his speech became thick and unintelligible. The
sister in charge gave Rosemary a hint that it would be better for her to
go. Rosemary rose at once.
"Well, my dear Maurus," she said, "I don't want to tire you. I thought
perhaps you might know something definite about Elza. But if you are not
anxious about her I am sure it is all right."
"Oh, yes, yes, it is all right. You see, she went to visit the children.
Then she was going to Ujlak. It is a long way for the horses----"
"You don't think she would stay in Cluj for the night?"
"I don't know. I don't know. She was going to Cluj first to see the
children--then she was going to Ujlak. It is a long way for the
horses--Elza will stay with Charlotte for the night. A hard woman,
Charlotte. But Anna is such a nice child. And my Philip--my Philip----"
The mind was obviously wandering. Maurus, while he spoke, was staring
straight out before him. Rosemary tried to explain to him that she had
to go away on business for a day or two and had hoped to start this
evening, but she could not go, of course, without seeing Elza first.
"Ah! you are going away, dear Lady Tarkington?" the invalid said with a
quick gleam in his restless, dark eyes. "I wish I could go with you. I
am so sick of this place, and now that my Philip has gone. . . . But how
can you go to-night, dear Lady Tarkington?"
"I won't go before I have seen Elza."
"No, no, you must not go before Elza comes. I have only the one
comfortable carriage now. They lave taken everything from me, my horses,
my cattle, my carriages, and my motor-cars--I can't send you to Cluj in
comfort until Elza comes back in the carriage--I have another pair of
horses--but no comfortable carriage. They took everything away from me.
Soon they will turn me out of this house----"
"Don't worry about that, dear, my husband has the use of a small car and
a soldier-chauffeur. We can get to Cluj all right."
The sister in charge interposed again, more peremptorily this time.
Rosemary took as cheerful a farewell of the invalid as she could.
"You must arrange," she said, "as soon as you are well enough, to come
over to us in England for a visit. It would be such a change for you,
and Jasper and I would make you and Elza very welcome."
But Maurus shook his head, and stared straight out before him. "That,
dear Lady Tarkington," he said, "can never be now." And slowly the tears
gathered in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Broken-hearted,
Rosemary bade him a final good night.
There was only one more chance of getting in touch with Elza to-night,
and that was to ascertain if she were staying at any of the hotels in
Cluj. And this Jasper did at Rosemary's request. He telephoned to the
"Pannonia" and to the "New York," the only possible places where Elza
might have put up for the night. True, when the Roumanian Government
took over the Imrey palace two or three rooms were allowed to remain in
possession of the family if they required them, but it was not likely
that Elza would elect to sleep under the same roof as General Naniescu.
Both hotels replied on the telephone that the gracious Countess Imrey
was not there. Ujlak, unfortunately, had not the telephone installed.
There was then nothing to be done.
But the next day was even more trying than the one before. The morning
wore on and there was no news of Elza. Anxiety for her friend was added
to the heavy load which Rosemary had to bear. Anxiety and this
unexpected uncertainty, which was positive torture.
Jasper, on the other hand, had become both helpful and sympathetic.
Already the day before he had announced his intention of accompanying
Rosemary to London. At first she had protested, but he looked so
contrite and so abashed that she relented, and said more graciously:
"It is more than kind of you, dear, to suggest it, but I really am quite
capable of looking after myself."
"I don't doubt it," he had replied with a sigh, "but I, too, have
certain privileges, chief of which is looking after your welfare--and
your safety."
She laughed. "I am perfectly safe. No one is going to run away with me."
"You might have trouble on the frontier."
"Not very likely," she retorted, "with a British passport."
Jasper had made no further remark just then, and the subject was
dropped. But Rosemary knew from his manner and his look that he intended
to accompany her. It would be no use protesting, though she had the
feeling that she would so much rather have travelled alone.
But when the morning of the next day went by without news of Elza,
Jasper was ready with a fresh suggestion. "Let me go to London for you,"
he said. "I could see the editor of the _Times_ and ask him in any case
to withhold publication until he heard from you. Then after that if
Elza's decision went the other way, you could always wire or write
again."
Rosemary hesitated for a moment or two. She could not very well put into
words the thought that was in her mind. But Jasper presently did it for
her.
"You do not trust me," he said quietly.
For another fraction of a second she hesitated, then with a frank
gesture of camaraderie she put her hand out to him: "I think I ought to
carry my own business through myself," she said, and added softly: "You
understand, dear, don't you?"
She could always win any man over with her smile, and at the soft tone
of her voice Jasper captured her hand and buried his face in the soft,
smooth palm.
"Tell me how I can serve you," he said, "but in God's name don't go away
from me."
He was once more all kindness and consideration, more like the charming
companion of the early days of her brief married life. With utmost
patience he discussed the whole situation with her: the possibility of
getting in touch with Elza and the advisability of communicating with
the _Times_ in any case, leaving it open for an ultimate change of
tactics.
But though he was so kind, so unselfish, so generous, Rosemary could not
respond in the same way as she had done in the past. Her confidence in
him had been wavering for some time, whenever those wild outbursts of
ungovernable passion, when he claimed her body and her soul as he would
a slave or a chattel, had outraged as well as mystified her, and she
could not free her mind from that vision which she had of him in the
mirror yesterday, with his mouth parted in a cruel, wolfish grin. The
dual nature in him puzzled her. She would not admit that she feared him,
because she had never in her life been afraid of any one, but she did
own to a certain vague dread which would creep into her heart whenever
she found herself alone with him; she had accepted his kisses at first,
hoping that in time friendship and confidence would turn to warmer
feeling, but she had a horror of them now, and knew that the last shred
of friendship was being torn to rags by all that was violent, passionate
and cruel in him. At the same time she did admit quite readily that he
was very helpful and kind in the present emergency, and gladly did she
accept his final offer to motor straightway to Cluj to see if he could
find out something definite about Elza.
"If she was not at Cluj," he said, "I would go on to Ujlak; and, in any
case, I can be back by about eight o'clock. If in the meanwhile, as I
hope and think, Elza has turned up, we can make our plans in accordance
with what she has decided, and either start for England at once, or
leave matters as they stand."
The suggestion was so practical that Rosemary felt really grateful. She
walked with him to the village where he garaged the car that Naniescu
had lent him. It was a powerful little car, of a well-known French make
and built for speed. The soldier-chauffeur was fortunately on the spot,
and with a friendly handshake Rosemary wished her husband God-speed.
"I don't know how I shall live through this day!" she said to him at the
last.
Jasper was very self-contained and practical. He satisfied himself that
everything about the car was in order, then only did he get in. He took
the wheel and waved Rosemary a last farewell, and very soon the car
disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust.