_ANTHONY PLAYS HIS HAND_
Lord Rosecarrel opened his town house in Grosvenor Place at the
beginning of May for the London season. Lady Daphne observed that he had
shaken off the gloom and apathy which had engulfed him for the last few
years. He began to take a more vivid interest in the international
situations which grew out of the Peace Conference. He began to talk to
the girl again about the aims of nations with respect to Persia and
indirectly with the future of India.
The earl was waiting impatiently for her one night when she came back
from an opera party given in her honor by Rudolph Castoon.
"Daphne," he began abruptly, "Do you believe absolutely in the _bona
fides_ of Anthony Trent?"
The girl felt herself coloring.
"Absolutely," she said steadily, "Why?"
"I have had a long cable from him," he returned. "A cable so
extraordinary that I can hardly believe he sent it. Here it is. It is
only partly in cipher for the reason the cipher code I made was not
intended for a message such as this. What you would not understand I
have decoded."
The girl took the slip of paper eagerly.
"At once," she read, "allow papers to announce you have decided to
come from retirement and accept public office. If Temesvar wires
for confirmation persist in your statement. If he threatens tell
him he has not got treaty. Tell him if he has it to bring it to
the prime minister. Follow these instructions implicitly otherwise
I can never succeed."
"And will you?" Daphne demanded breathlessly.
"I don't know," the earl said slowly. "It seems rather a desperate thing
to do. You must have heard rumors that I have been offered the
enormously important position of Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs
in the cabinet that will be formed when the present government goes out
of office. There will be two men there who are my enemies. There is, for
instance, Rudolph Castoon whose guest you have been tonight and Buchanan
who will be Home Secretary. Castoon knows I do not trust him wholly.
There is always a danger in making a man of his kind Chancellor of the
Exchequer. He has a brother in every great country and some of them have
been our bitter enemies in the past. Buchanan, of course, exercises
enormous influence through his newspapers and seems to feel a personal
grievance against me."
"It was because you never would invite him here or to the castle," she
answered, "although he was forever spelling for an invitation. Those
_nouveaux riches_ are very sensitive."
"If I accepted office," the earl went on slowly, "I should have these
two men against me. And if by any ill chance it should become known that
I did not destroy the draft of a treaty which was entrusted to me
Buchanan would see his opportunity and use his wretched papers to the
full. I should be forced out of public life. I have always been
intolerant of breaches of faith and that would be remembered against me
as a mark of hypocrisy."
"But Mr. Trent says Count Michæl Temesvar hasn't got the treaty," she
cried, "and that means _he_ has it."
Her father shook his head.
"That's just what it doesn't mean," he returned. "Mr. Trent says I am to
tell Count Michæl he has not the treaty. If Trent had it he would have
told me so. I am to do this risky thing in order that he may ultimately
succeed. You see, Daphne, my statement to the press that I have decided
to take office is part of a move in the game that another man is
playing."
"But he's playing it for you," she cried.
The earl smiled.
"Is he?" he returned, "I'll admit at all events that I am the one most
to be benefited if he succeeds."
"But he will succeed," she persisted. "Does he look like the kind of man
to be beaten?"
"Did Captain Hardcastle look the kind of man either?" Lord Rosecarrel
asked. "And you remember poor Piers Edgcomb the best fencer in Europe,
a man with nerves of steel? I firmly believe some of the count's men
killed him."
It cost the girl an effort to say what she did.
"But, dad," she reminded him, "they had no experience at, at that sort
of thing."
"And this one has? That, alone, comforts me. But the odds are so
tremendously against him."
"He went there knowing it."
"I am not sure that it would not be safer for you for Arthur and for me
if I did go back permanently to private life. If Mr. Trent should
fail--"
"You won't be implicated," she reminded him. "He has gone just as a
cockney chauffeur."
"But don't you see," the earl said patiently, "that I am here invited to
throw down the gauntlet to the man who has in his power what can
disgrace me? Hardcastle and Sir Piers failed but their failure did not
drag me into it as this scheme will do."
"Who will be foreign secretary if you refuse it?" Daphne asked.
"That impossible nonconformist person Muir who has never been farther
afield than Paris and has no knowledge of Eastern affairs at all. He
will undo everything I have striven for. He will play into Count
Michæl's hands as a child might."
"Then isn't the chance worth taking?" Daphne asked, pointing to the
cable.
"I've taken it already," the earl said, "I wanted you to reassure me. I
felt a confidence utterly without logical foundation as to the ability
of your Anthony Trent."
"That's splendid," she cried.
"I am not so sure," her father returned, "Daphne, you know what I mean
when I say I hope Arthur's action in saving his life was not like those
other actions of the poor lad which have brought dire trouble to us all.
You must know that there can be no attachment between you and him."
"You'd better know it," she said quietly, "but there is what you call an
attachment. As to marriage--he says like you it is impossible so I
suppose it is. That's all over." She patted his gray hair
affectionately. "I'm not going to marry anyone. I shall have my hands
full in looking after the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs."
"My dear," he said, "you are taking this wonderfully well. I'm grateful.
I ought never to have let the thing drift along as I did. I blame
myself."
"I'm glad," she whispered, "You couldn't possibly understand it, but
even if I never see him again I shall always be thankful to have known
him."
The earl looked at her and sighed. His daughter was one of the loveliest
girls in England, highly accomplished, allied to some of the great
families of her own land and continental Europe and had been sought
after since her coming out ball. He had hoped to see her married to some
honorable man of her own class and instead she had fallen in love with
an adventurer whose past--according to his own admission--made a
marriage impossible.
Of late he had suffered much. The death of his wife, the loss of two
sons, the many troubles Arthur's past had brought, his enforced
retirement and now Daphne's hopeless attachment. The only thing that
offered him any relaxation was the possibility of getting into harness
again. And that would only be attainable if Anthony Trent, that
mysterious American he had grown to like, succeeded in a forlorn hope.
At least he must do his part. A little wearily he took up the telephone
and called a number in Downing Street where was the official residence
of the prime minister, the man primarily in charge of the destinies of a
great empire.
* * * * *
There was no telephone in Castle Radna. Every morning some one of Count
Michæl's men went to Agram and brought back letters and telegrams. It
fell to Anthony Trent to fetch the mail that came twenty-four hours
after the conversation over the telephone with the prime minister. Among
the many pieces which the postmaster placed in the double locked mail
bag was a trans-continental telegram. It was the function of this big
letter pouch to guard its contents from the inquisitive by locks to
which only the postmaster and Hentzi had keys.
When once Trent had established this he came by night to the room where
the secretary snored and made impressions of the keys and so was able to
open the pouch without any forcing of the locks.
Instead of going on to Radna direct Trent turned his car into a byroad
of the oak forest and steamed open the wire. It was as he feared, in
code which he might be able to decipher after long study. But if the
language should be Croatian or Hungarian he would still be in the dark.
It chanced that the count was near the garage as he drove in. It was a
frequent habit of Count Michæl's to walk over to the great stables where
formerly his thoroughbreds had been housed and now only a few riding
horses remained. He greeted "Arlfrit" with the manner that proved him to
be in a good temper. Hentzi was at his side and opened the mail pouch.
Instantly he passed the telegram to his master. Tinkering at some
pretended indisposition of his engines Trent watched the count's face as
he read.
The man fell into a sudden and roaring rage. He gesticulated, he swore
and he pummelled the cringing Hentzi. His talk was in Croatian but his
meaning was plain. Suddenly he turned on Trent.
"Do not put your car away," he ordered him, "You must return to Agram."
No mail was ever entrusted to the Temesvar servants. Even what was sent
to Agram was sealed so that the post master alone or his assistant could
unlock the bag.
In the same secluded dell of the forest Trent opened the bag a second
time and read the message addressed to the Earl of Rosecarrel. "I am
informed," it said, "that you have accepted office. Deny this rumor
instantly. Affirmation means danger to you. Michæl Temesvar."
Trent chuckled. Things were beginning to move. Of late he had found his
occupation boring. It seemed he was always acting as a mail carrier
chosen over Sissek because he made so much better time. He had no chance
at golf. Pauline was away. Hentzi told him so one day when he had driven
three ladies up from Fiume and learned they were all high-born and that
for a time the company at the castle was distinguished.
"You would not understand what I meant," Hentzi said, loftily, "if I
told you many important things are going on. When our guests have gone
there may be those of Pauline's sort you may drive from Fiume. Then the
air is different. For myself I prefer such company as we have at
present."
"The lords and ladies?" Trent said remembering that he had seen Hentzi
acting as a sort of upper servant at such a dinner.
"Exactly," Hentzi agreed. "Pauline had been ill advised enough to
disobey the count. There is a guest who admired her."
"Why didn't the guv'nor biff him one same as he does you when he's mad?"
Trent demanded.
"There are some to whom even Count Michæl may offer no violence," Hentzi
returned in a shocked voice. "But you would not understand."
On the whole Anthony Trent was glad that the prince had been the cause
of the temporary removal of Pauline. She was a menace to him. Also he
rejoiced to think that the arbitrary Michæl Temesvar had his own uneasy
moments.
Because Anthony Trent was more concerned in the successful outcome of
his present design than any other of his adventurous career he denied
himself the pleasure of those nocturnal wanderings in the castle
corridors and rooms. So that he might make Daphne happy by delivering
her father from bondage he decided to take no risks which might lead to
his capture. Particularly he wanted to secrete himself among the trees
in green tubs and flowers of the courtyard. Although it was not to his
immediate advantage to learn of the plotting which was going on under
the roof which sheltered him a knowledge of it promised some interesting
developments in the future.
But now that the exchange of telegrams commenced between the two old
adversaries he found excitement enough in going to Agram and opening the
wires. Lord Rosecarrel, he found, had acted on his instructions. He
affirmed his intention to take office and when he received another more
threatening telegram from Count Michæl declared that he knew the treaty
was not in his possession.
Count Michæl's anger was reflected in the face of each scurrying servant
of the many with whom Trent came into contact. Hentzi visited it
vicariously upon one Alfred Anthony until that bellicose chauffeur
reminded him that the fate of Peter Sissek was his for the asking. Later
Hentzi grew confidential. He had the impression that this humble member
of a dominant people looked up to him for his world knowledge and in
order to impress Alfred Anthony the more made indiscreet revelations
which were duly stored in the careful retentive memory of Anthony
Trent.
It was from Hentzi that Trent learned of the sudden trip of their common
employer to London.
"It is most inconvenient for us both," said the secretary. "For the
count that he should have to leave his guests and for me that I should
have to entertain them in his absence."
"I thought you liked the company of lords and ladies," Alfred Anthony
said in simple tribute to his companion's parts.
"There is responsibility you could not comprehend," Hentzi returned, and
left Trent to think over his plans.
So far things had travelled evenly. The test was now to come. He was
reasonably certain that when Count Michæl set out for London he would
have in his possession the draft of the treaty. With this he would
confront a prime minister and possibly the entire cabinet. He knew well
of Buchanan's dislike of Lord Rosecarrel. Had Anthony Trent been in the
count's place he would never have committed the error of taking so
important a document with him. Trent invariably mailed what he had taken
to himself and breathed freer when the responsibility was on another's
shoulders. This, of course, only when a long journey was to be made.
When he had stolen the Mount Aubyn ruby in San Francisco he had mailed
it to his camp in Maine and thus confounded detectives who had searched
his apartment.
That Count Michæl had not adopted this plan he knew because for the past
week he alone had fetched and carried mail matter. The time he had
taken in opening the mails had to be made up by faster travelling and
the Lion engine never failed him. The peasants used to point out the
racing car with pride and give him road room gladly. On those tablets of
memory he inscribed many interesting details that occurred in letters
written by other than the count. He could read in French, German,
Italian and Spanish and the letters which most interested him were in
German.
Sometimes in the lonely night he wondered whether or not this knowledge
might not be sufficiently important to at least three governments to win
him a pardon should he ever be found out for crimes of other days. And
if there should come a time when he were free from the ever haunting
fear of arrest might there not be the fulfilment of his dearest wishes?
He was sure Daphne would drop her title if he thought it best.
Then he put the thought from him resolutely. That was in the future and
he was immediately concerned with the success of this thing he had sworn
to accomplish.
Hentzi told him that Count Michæl would travel by night to Fiume there
to board a Venice bound boat and catch the continental express for
Paris. As none but he drove the Lion and the count preferred it and its
driver the assumption was that Alfred Anthony would take him. It was on
this hypothesis that the success of Trent's scheme depended. He would
probably be alone. At most some servant or valet would be chosen to
travel with his master and he would of course sit next to the
chauffeur.
Trent had long ago picked out a suitable spot where such a luckless
person could be dumped. There was a steep grassy bank some twenty miles
along the road where a man hit sufficiently deftly would roll out of
reach with small possibility of injury. A little stream ran at the
bottom which would revive him if stunned or drown him as the fates saw
best. Stored in the Lion car was a change of apparel, some food and
other necessaries.
It was Hentzi who broke the bad news. The secretary came upon the eager
mechanic tuning up his engine lovingly. So engrossed was he that he
neither saw Hentzi nor noticed that Peter Sissek was polishing the brass
work on his Panhard.
"Getting things shipshape and Bristol fashion," Trent said, when he saw
Hentzi.
"It is Peter who takes the count," the secretary said idly, "You are to
go to Budapesth tomorrow. You see what it is to be considered so
skillful that Count Michæl offers you to his guests and goes more slowly
himself."
Then Trent noticed the grinning and triumphant Sissek. It was a black
moment for him.
"Yes, Peter takes the count," Hentzi repeated.
"I think he'll have to," Trent said slowly, "for the second time."
This alteration in the schedule which for the moment promised utter
disruption to his plans might have been brought about by reasons other
than those suggested by Hentzi. It was curious that at just this
critical moment Sissek should be entrusted with his master's safety and
Trent given a mission which Peter Sissek with his wider knowledge of the
country could better have filled.
But it was time wasting to ponder on this now. In three hours Trent
would have started with his Lion. Sissek a slower driver and using an
older and less speedy car must get away earlier. Almost frightened out
of his accustomed calm Trent learned that the count was leaving in a
little over an hour, just as the darkness would set in. What plans he
could make must be made instantly. Failure was now almost at his side.
Failure! Anthony Trent groaned at thought of it; Lord Rosecarrel would
be publicly humiliated. Daphne would blame him for it. With what
assurance and headstrong confidence he had plunged into an adventure
which had brought death to those other men! He could never face her if
he failed and failure was in sight.
For a moment he thought of forcing a quarrel on Peter Sissek. Before
Hentzi or others could intervene he could with his boxer's skill most
certainly damage one eye if not two of a man who, to drive down dark and
dangerous roads, must possess unclouded vision.
But he hesitated. If Count Michæl had chosen Sissek because Alfred
Anthony was under suspicion an assault on the Croatian at the present
moment might tend to confirm these doubts and he might find himself
overpowered and under guards he could not overwhelm. To put the car out
of commission was hardly possible with Sissek guarding it and another
man cleaning it. And these two, it seemed to Trent, were watching
suspiciously.
By some trick of fate it was Sissek himself who contributed to Trent's
success. Peter was arrogant now and motioned to Trent to aid him in
lifting some baggage to the top of the Panhard limousine. Like most of
the continental cars it had a deep luggage rail around the top on which
trunks or lesser baggage could be carried. There was a cabin trunk, a
bundle of rugs and a dressing bag. Peter Sissek was astonished when
Trent cheerfully obeyed him and even helped to strap the cabin trunk
securely.
Hentzi was amazed at the sudden change that had taken place in the
English chauffeur's attitude. He was now lively who had been gloomy, and
loquacious when he had been taciturn.
"Why do you laugh," he asked.
"At the idea of Peter taking the count," said Trent. "Someday you'll
know what that means."
"I know now," Hentzi insisted, "I speak perfectly and my English
vocabulary is wider than could be that of a man of your position."
* * * * *
As Peter Sissek unaccompanied by valet or assistant drove down the hill,
after leaving the pavilion at the first tee on his left, he was
horrified to find a tree across his path. He dismounted, moved it aside
with difficulty and proceeded on his way.
But this time he carried two passengers.
The motor had come to an abrupt stop under a big oak tree whose
spreading arms reached across the mountain road.
Lying along one of those rigid oak limbs Anthony Trent, after nicely
adjusting the fallen tree so that Peter Sissek's eyes would see it at
the proper moment, had waited anxiously for the approach of the Panhard.
He was not sure that the powerful headlights would not pierce his leafy
shelter and discover him to the watchful driver. He could imagine
vividly the chauffeur warning his employer. And as Count Michæl always
went armed and might even now be suspicious of his cockney servant he
would very likely have no hesitation in picking him off the boughs as
Anthony Trent, years before in his New Hampshire hills, had shot
squirrels. If by any chance he could get to the ground, only twelve feet
beneath, before he was aimed at he would have to trust to the moment's
inspiration for his next move. He knew almost certainly that Count
Michæl carried the document he wanted in a flat leather case which
fitted into his breast pocket.
If by any chance the men did not see him and the car passed him on its
seaward way his errand would be unaccomplished, his boasts vain and the
humiliation of his friends certain. He had determined if this happened
to send a telegram to the earl admitting defeat, and warning of the
count's visit.
The Panhard came to a grinding stop a foot from the barrier. Sissek
removed it as quickly as he could but it was heavy enough to have taxed
Anthony Trent's superior strength! and the count grew so impatient at
the time taken that he sprang down to the road and urged his man to
greater activities.
The two were jabbering in Croatian when Anthony Trent lowered himself to
the top of the limousine and nestled down in the shadow of the baggage.
Trent had often been incensed in reading newspaper accounts of his
exploits to find that their success was so often ascribed to mere luck.
He supposed it would be so this time if it were known. People would say
that owing to two boulders in the side of the road Sissek pulled up so
that Trent could drop directly down on to the car. In most cases the
greatest luck comes to the best player and Anthony Trent had placed the
rocks on the road with the same care that he would play a stroke in golf
or cast along the edge of lily pads where the big trout lay in graceful
ease. There was only one place where Sissek could halt his machine.
It was while the car travelled along a poor and rough section of the
route before reaching the Marie Louise road that Trent unstrapped a
bundle and selected a dark travelling-rug to cover him from observant
eyes in the infrequent towns through which they must pass.
Half a hundred schemes raced through his quick, fertile brain only to be
rejected. He wondered, for instance, if it were possible to cut through
the top of the car and get at the count who was certain to be sleeping a
goodly portion of the journey. He decided that to lean over the rails
and try to peer through the oval glass window in the rear would also be
unwise. At most he would only catch a glimpse of the count and might
just as easily be seen himself. Then he wondered if it might not be
possible to drop down on Peter Sissek's shoulders and strangle him into
quietness.
But Peter Sissek was taking his car along at a steady rate of
twenty-five miles the hour and with his hands off the steering wheel--a
certain contingency if Trent's strong fingers closed around his
throat--a bad accident was inevitable. A precipice on one side and a
wall of rock on the other, he would be between the deep sea and the
devil.
He saw that Sissek must be eliminated at all costs. A match for either
of them singly Trent would certainly be overpowered in a tussle with
both; although they lacked the cat-like quickness of the American they
were both of uncommon strength. The immediate problem was to get rid of
Sissek and leave his master none the wiser.
There was a part of the road through which they must presently pass
which promised aid to the schemer. It was a gentle rise through a very
dense section of beech forest and Peter would go slowly fearing that the
uneven surface would jolt his lord into unwelcome anger.
Peter Sissek, straining his eyes to see that his way was clear, was
startled when one of the pieces of baggage on the top of the car was
jolted off. It fell on the Panhard's bonnet and then bounded into the
side of the road. He had run past it fifty yards before he brought his
machine to a stop.
When he backed up to the fallen bag Count Michæl was aroused from
slumber and ascribed the accident to Peter's carelessness. In the
chauffeur's apology Anthony Trent heard his assumed name brought in.
Plainly Peter was making him the culprit. He had pitched the bundle from
the roof with some skill. It bounded far into the shadow. Finally Peter
Sissek stumbled over it. And as he stooped to retrieve it, Alfred
Anthony swung at him. For the second time Peter had taken the count. To
hit a defenceless, unsuspecting man was not a thing to give Trent any
pleasure, but it was not a moment in which to hesitate. With Peter's
livery cap and duster on, Trent took the bundle on his shoulder and
carried it at such an angle that in case of scrutiny his face would be
shielded from gaze.
A quick backward glance a few minutes later on showed the new driver
that the count had resumed his broken slumbers. So well indeed did the
lord of Castle Radna sleep that he did not know the Panhard had left the
main road or that any danger threatened him until he was suddenly hauled
from his springy seat to look into the clear, hard eyes of Alfred
Anthony.
Then he realized that his revolver was in the cockney's hand and the
precious wallet gone from his pocket. Count Michæl was no coward and he
thought quickly with that intriguing, plotting brain of his. A great
diamond still sparkled upon his finger and the money in another pocket
was untouched.
"I should have been wiser," he commented. "I thought my lord Rosecarrel
had become suddenly mad. Now I see that he was saner than I. First
Captain the Honourable Oswald Hardcastle, then Sir Piers Edgcomb and now
you. May I ask your name and rank? You have been my servant and
succeeded so far where they failed?"
Anthony Trent was not expecting this attitude. He had been so used to
seeing the count fly into stupendous rages that this calm, collected
manner was disturbing. It might be the man's natural attitude in moments
of real peril or it might merely mean he knew he was ultimately to be
the victor.
It was a curious scene. The Panhard had come to rest in a clearing of
the woods and a brilliant moon gave the place almost the clarity of day.
Count Michæl sat down on a log and lighted a cigarette. Almost he was
usurping Trent's _rôle_ under such circumstances.
"This interests me," said Count Michæl, "let us discuss it."
"I've no time," Trent said smiling. "I am due at Fiume or Trieste or
Zara as the case may be at a certain hour and as I haven't the Lion here
I must push on."
"Have you thought that I shall certainly pursue you and assuredly
capture you?"
"You may pursue later when you are found but by that time I shall be
gone."
"You can never escape me," the count said. "I have a long arm and I do
not forget. And my vengeance is a bad thing for those against whom it is
directed."
"It's not altogether healthy to have me for an enemy," Trent reminded
him. "I have my own likes and dislikes."
The count sneered.
"You," he cried, "Who are you? What have you done that men should fear
you? For a moment you have a little luck, the little luck that will
bring you blindly to greater danger."
"I'm strictly _incognito_," Trent answered. "Once I was unwise enough to
answer such a challenge, but you may believe me that I, too, have a
name. Now count, it won't help you a bit to put up a fight. It will save
you trouble if you'll back up against that tree and let me tie you up."
"You would put this outrage on me?" the other cried, his calm leaving
him, the veins standing out on an empurpled forehead like raised livid
ridges.
"Get up!" Anthony Trent snapped.
"It is because you have a pistol," the count said. "Put that down if you
are a man and then see what you can make me do."
"You may believe it or not," Trent retorted, "but it hurts me to have to
decline the offer. If I dared take time I would return several little
tendernesses of yours. As it is I can't, having a weapon, strike a man
who hasn't one. You are luckier than you know. Back up there and do it
damned quick."
Trent was certain that Count Temesvar could never unfasten his bonds.
And as he was gagged he could not cry for help. Some swineherd or
peasant would discover him later. Meanwhile the discipline would be
good.
"Good-by," said Trent genially, "Give my love to your guest the prince
and all his high born companions."
If Count Michæl had looked angry before his face now was doubly hideous
with rage. His hold over Lord Rosecarrel was gone and he could not doubt
but this stranger who had posed as a chauffeur had learned somehow of
the presence of the prince. If it were known in the chancelleries of
Europe all his carefully matured plans would go for naught. Unless
Alfred Anthony were captured Michæl, Count Temesvar could never again
make his pleasant little trips to the great houses of England, France
and Italy. There he was known as one who had abandoned all political
ambitions to become merely the country magnate interested in cattle and
crops. Never again could he gather useful information over friendly
dinner tables or hobnob with prime ministers over golf or auction bridge
if it were known he was giving sanctuary to one who threatened the world
peace.
When Anthony Trent had satisfied himself that the document he had taken
was the one Arthur stole from his father, he knew, in order to be
absolutely safe, it should be destroyed. Its destruction would give the
earl immunity. But Trent hesitated. Once already Lord Rosecarrel had
believed it was demolished and had suffered terribly for his trust.
Inevitably there would be a seed of suspicion if a comparative stranger,
confessedly one who had profited by unlawful operations, should ask him
to take as true that the treaty had again been destroyed.
A man in Trent's position was doubly sensitive in a matter of this sort.
He had no long and honorable record to back his assertions; and although
in the present instance he was actuated by no motives of
self-aggrandizement he was not sure others--Daphne alone excepted--would
believe him. He thanked God that with her it was different.
So he put the paper in an envelope already stamped and addressed and
placed it in his pocket. Then he started for a port of safety.
It seemed impossible that he should miss the way in the bright moonlight
but he realized a few minutes later that he was only circling around the
clearing where the count was tied to a tree. His headlights showed him
innumerable roads like those by which he had come but there was no
distinctive sign to guide him to the road to the coast. A group of
peasants going incredibly early to their work could not understand him.
He repeated the word Fiume but even that did not help. Their little life
was bounded by the confines of a few square miles; and the troop trains
which had taken them to the battle lines of a year or so back had only
confused them as to topography.
Among the big oaks and beeches Trent could not easily find one tall
enough to bear his weight on branches that would let him see over the
tops of the others. When dawn came he was in no better plight.
The position in which Anthony Trent found himself was by far the most
serious of his career. Hitherto he had faced imprisonment at most. Now
capture meant without doubt--death. He had, without thinking of the
folly of his utterance, told Count Michæl that he knew of the presence
of the guests unsuspected by the great powers.
Count Michæl had probably staged the supposed escape of the prince and
supplied a convenient corpse for his interment. Unrest was in every
portion of what had once been the dual monarchy. Beggars on horseback
were riding to a fall and the Balkan volcano was near eruption. And
Anthony Trent, alone of those opposed to Count Michæl's party, knew
where was hidden the man whom the count was coaching for his big _rôle_.
His escape would mean disaster. By this time no doubt passing countrymen
had recognized their overlord and released him. But for lack of a
compass Anthony Trent should even now have been at a port where he could
escape to a friendly vessel.
He remembered what Lord Rosecarrel had told him of Count Michæl's
character and autocratic power. Although theoretically shorn of his
former absolutism it was unlikely that peasants who worked on his lands
and still felt their dependence upon him should question Count Michæl's
actions. World news which spreads rapidly among the herded workers in
factories crept slowly among these land tillers. They had enough to eat
and drink and were grateful for that after their years of fighting.
Now that capture was imminent Trent knew that the document must be
destroyed. But even in this he delayed hoping his usual luck might cling
to him and make the sacrifice unnecessary.
He abandoned the automobile. Its wheels were embedded in black viscid
mud and to extricate them the engine would have to run on low speed and
announce the car's position to such as might already be seeking him. If
he could pass the day uncaptured he might at night be able to free the
car of its imprisoning mud and make his escape. He had woodcraft enough
to be able to mark down the spot where the Panhard was hidden.
It was high noon when Anthony Trent came in sight of a farm. A big dog
came toward him with sharp, staccato inquiring barks. He had a way of
making dogs his friends and soon the animal was wagging a welcoming
tail. Trent satisfied his hunger and thirst with a meal of early plums
and lighted his last Woodbine. The Croatian farmers of the district in
which he found himself were horsebreeders to a man. It was an industry
which the government had always approved and encouraged. Without a doubt
in the distant barns there was some favorite animal which might bear
Trent to safety if his car had been discovered. The watch dog, now
satisfied that the stranger was one to be adored, would prove no
obstacle.
Trent nestled back in some drying hay, well out of sight, he supposed,
of observers and dropped into a profound sleep. It was the unusual
spectacle of the watch dog sitting by the mound of hay that attracted
the notice of the farmer. He supposed that the animal--part hound and
part draft dog--had run some animal to earth. When the farmer saw that
the stranger slept there for whom he had, under Count Michæl's
direction, scoured the forest since dawn, he wisely brought assistance.
Thus it was that Anthony Trent, rudely brought back to an unsympathetic
earth, found himself seized, bruised and bound before he had time to
recover his senses or put up a fight.
Peter Sissek it was who carried him to the recovered Panhard and threw
him violently to the floor. And for every blow that Trent had struck
Sissek in fair fight the Croatian returned with interest now that his
conqueror was bound and hopeless. One of Peter's assistants sat on the
seat brandishing the revolver which had been the count's. He talked
incessantly, threatening no doubt and insulting the captive, and
punctuating his invective with kicks that bruised the American's ribs
sorely.
He was carried past a mob of jeering servants when the castle was
reached and put in a room which had been used as a dungeon for five
hundred years. As he looked about the stone walled cell with its narrow
windows through which his body could scarcely pass even though the heavy
bars were sawn through, he knew his professional skill would avail him
nothing.
There was one safeguard for gaolers which he sighed to see. Inside the
door was a cage of iron where a keeper might stand and be protected from
the sudden onslaught of a waiting prisoner. Thus the most usual form of
escape was taken from him.
Hentzi was his first visitor, poor rotund, posing Hentzi who had liked
Alfred Anthony largely because he supposed it was a semi-educated London
cockney who listened to his worldly wisdom. When he had learned from his
master that this pretended chauffeur was the third of the Rosecarrel
adherents who had made desperate attempts he supposed him to be of high
degree. With amusement Anthony Trent saw the change in his manner.
Although disgraced and in prison Hentzi paid the respect that he
invariably accorded to birth. He told himself that it was because he
noted the instincts of blue blood that he had found pleasure in talking
with Alfred Anthony. Trent's careless manner which had sometimes seemed
overbold in a chauffeur was now explained.
"I grieve very much to see the marks of violence inflicted upon you by a
clod like Peter Sissek," he began.
"I knocked the same clod out when he wasn't looking," Trent returned,
"so he had a kick coming. You didn't come to be merely polite Hentzi,
what is it? Torture? Boiling oil?"
"It will not be boiling oil," Hentzi answered seriously.
Anthony Trent looked at him searchingly. Of course Hentzi had his
purpose in coming here; and that he did not deny the possibility of a
Croatian third degree convinced the American that the danger he
anticipated was real and near. So far as Count Michæl's power went in
his own castle of Radna his prisoner might be in medieval times. Trent
was a danger to be nullified and a single life was hardly worthy of
consideration in the game the count was playing.
To lose his life was bitter enough; but to lose it after failing and so
be denied another chance to make good was agonizing. Hentzi gathered
nothing from his scrutiny of the other man's battered face. He saw that
the forced and rather vacuous grin which Anthony Trent had worn when he
lived another part was gone. Only the powerful, brooding, hawklike look
which he had occasionally seen for a flash now remained. He did not
doubt but that this was the true character of the man a great English
noble had chosen for a dangerous mission.
"You will remain here until the count returns," Hentzi announced.
"How long?" Trent snapped.
"A week certainly; more likely two."
"What will happen then?"
Hentzi sighed. His master's violence often frightened him. He came of a
peaceloving family.
"That I cannot say."
"I can't go without a daily shave," Trent said yawning. "And I need
cigarettes and the London papers. You can get them for me?"
"The razor I dare not," Hentzi said. "The rest you shall have."
"Afraid I shall commit suicide? You ought to be glad if I did. It would
save Count Michæl a lot of trouble. That cage there prevents my slitting
the throat of a keeper. A child with a gun could poke the barrel through
the bars and put me out of business. Come Hentzi, be human. I will not
live with whiskers. I swear to do myself no damage or anyone else
either."
"You give me the word of a man of noble birth?" Hentzi inquired
anxiously. "You cannot conceal your origin from me. You may not wish it
known but I know."
Anthony Trent kept a straight face. Hentzi had always amused him.
"Hentzi," he said seriously, "I must preserve my _incognito_ at all
costs. That you appreciate, but if it will make you more comfortable I
will tell you that in my own country there is not a man who has the
right to call himself my superior or go in to dinner before me."
Hentzi's bow was most profound. He had known it all along. This was
assuredly the venturesome holder of an ancient title, a man of high
birth and born to great honor. Hentzi's own Sheffield blades were at his
disposal.