Morton had set the alarm clock for a very early hour, so that it was
still almost dark when its insistent ringing roused him from his
slumbers. He was still drowsy and scarce knew where he was. Then he
remembered that the day was Saturday and the place Padina. In a moment
he was out of bed and dressing rapidly in the dawning daylight. He was
thinking quickly, too, wondering if Rachel Rosen had arranged with the
maid’s sweetheart, Marco. That was the key to the first gate which
barred the undertaking. If she had failed, then there was nothing
for it but to make a bold dash and, if the worst came to the worst,
fight for it. Well, he would be ready even for that, though he hoped
sincerely it would not come to that.
But another doubt assailed him. Would the Princess be willing to take
the step? Confound the Princess! He would compel her to go. He would
not permit himself to stand on ceremony, now that everything had been
arranged.
Morton hurried below and found a stupid-looking lout sweeping the
tap-room floor. The door of the inn stood open, and a cold damp wind
was blowing into the room. He stepped out and saw with satisfaction
that it was raining heavily, with a cold east wind blowing in
sharp gusts. Returning to the room he inquired of the servant if
his breakfast was ready; but the man looked at him blankly with
unintelligent bovine eyes. Evidently he was not understood. Resorting
to signs he finally got the fellow to catch his meaning, for he ceased
dusting and began to lay the table.
From the back part of the inn came now the sound of wheels rumbling on
cobblestones. John realized that this must mean the arrival of Papiu.
Stepping quickly through the hallway to the rear exit he saw the very
man alighting from a primitive and cumbersome conveyance, the wheels
of which would have supported a six-inch gun. Papiu took no notice
of John, but kept looking at the sky and examining the house. Morton
caught his cue from the man’s actions and returned to the tap-room,
where he found his breakfast waiting for him. A few minutes later Papiu
entered, dripping wet, and, seating himself by the table adjoining
the one at which John was eating, called loudly for the waiter. The
landlord, in shirt-sleeves and leather apron, appeared now on the
scene, and after exchanging a few words withdrew to attend to Papiu’s
requirements.
Immediately they were alone, the driver leaned over and deftly slipping
a piece of paper into John’s hands, quickly resumed his seat and yawned
lazily and loudly. Morton read the note, which was from Donald.
Everything had been done as ordered and all was ready. Mihai was
waiting with the reserve team at the crossroad, Kilometer 34 of the
map, and Papiu’s saddle horse was just beyond the town gate. He, Don,
would remain in the wagon until he received further orders from Mr.
Morton.
John was greatly relieved. Returning to his room, he put on a heavy
ulster. On his way through the tap-room he whispered to Papiu, who was
munching black bread and fat bacon, “Remain here till you hear from
me,” and passed out into the rain.
The street was utterly deserted. Disregarding the sweeping, cold
downpour, he made his way to Rosen’s house by the gateway he had
entered the day before. Rachel greeted him cordially and smilingly
put aside his apologies for his soaking condition. It was the very
weather father had been praying for, she told him. When he was snugly
seated in the room which had now become sacred to him, she told him
that everything had been arranged as they had planned. Marco would be
on guard at the South Gate between five and seven that evening. The
watchword was “Luna Dragu.” He would permit two ladies to pass out
unchallenged. It had been settled that after he had been relieved Marco
was to strike out for the big river, where his people would be waiting
for him, and cross over into Bulgaria. His sweetheart would meet him
there later. As to the clothes for the girls, she pointed to three
packages, each marked with a number. No. 1 was the Princess’s, No. 2
the Comtesse Helène’s and No. 3 the articles both ladies might use in
common. John was perfectly satisfied, and expressed his sincere thanks
for all the trouble she had taken.
“I am only too happy to serve them,” Miss Rosen replied. “I shall be
fully repaid when I know they are once again in a safe place.”
“You may rely on me, dear lady,” said John earnestly, “to do everything
in my power.”
“Father will be in soon,” remarked the girl, “he’s just gone out to the
café to hear the news. Won’t you sit in his office until he returns?
You may smoke there,” she added, laughing.
John thanked her as she led him into a small but well-furnished study
adjoining. “Here is where father does all his important business,” she
said. “You will be quite safe here.”
“Thank you. I will wait for Mr. Rosen’s arrival.”
The bright girl courtesied, and with a look of admiration at John left
the room precipitately. Left alone, John lit a cigar and began studying
the map he always carried with him. He calculated that he would make
Kilometer 34 in about four hours, despite the rain and bad roads.
This would mean that their first resting place would be some thirty
kilometers further in the mountains. That would be well, indeed. But,
again, doubts arose in his mind as to what the Princess herself would
do. She was the unknown quantity which he knew not how to allow for.
However, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.
The door was softly opened and Rosen entered, carefully closing it
behind him. The two men wasted no time in idle talk but set themselves
at once to the business in hand. Rosen was pleased to learn that the
team and the men had arrived. He himself would see to the delivery of
the packages at Herr Morton’s inn to Papiu. It would not be necessary
for John to return to the inn as he, Rosen, would discharge the bill
and see to his baggage. The landlord was all right, there was nothing
to fear from that quarter; but there were spies about. He knew that. He
was glad of the storm; it would be their best friend. Everything was
working for them and--Rosen would see to the rest.
John was greatly relieved. He had to confess to himself that the
enterprise had assumed, now that he was face to face with it, a rather
dangerous aspect. He could never have managed without the assistance of
this devoted man and his equally devoted daughter. He thanked Rosen,
and proceeded to count out the gold for Marco, which Rosen would
deliver.
John found the merchant quick and decisive in action, and a most
interesting companion. He was a great admirer and devoted adherent of
Count Rondell, whom he regarded as his benefactor. And as for the
Comtesse Helène--ah--he and his would gladly die for the dear young
lady. He mourned the sad turn of affairs, which for the time being,
at least, would leave the Count penniless. He, Rosen, would remain in
Roumelia for some time to look after Count Rondell’s affairs as best he
could.
A discreet knock and Rachel whispered: “The Comtesse is awaiting Mr.
Morton in the sitting room.” Morton rose at once and made his way to
the room.
Helène stood near the window, apparently in deep thought. She was
dressed in the identical garments she had worn the day before, but she
looked even paler than then. Evidently she had spent a restless night.
Her eyes were heavy, with dark rings around them; but the blue in them
was a glimpse of heaven to Morton. She returned his cheery greetings
with a wan smile and in words scarcely above a whisper.
John placed a chair and begged her to be seated. He told her of
the success their preparations had so far met with and assured her
smilingly that all would go well. What had the Princess said?
Helène sat and looked as if she were not listening to him. Her lips
quivered and she nervously fingered the lace handkerchief she was
holding in her hand.
“Mr. Morton, Her Highness is afraid to trust herself to a stranger. She
is unstrung and I have not succeeded in persuading her to act as you
propose.”
Helène leaned forward, resting her elbows upon her knees, and pressed
the lace against her tired eyes. Suppressing a sob with a quick intake
of her breath, she continued in a trembling voice, though with no trace
of resentment in it:
“Why did not papa send someone we know--one of our own people?
Please, do not misunderstand me. I have done all I could--I told her
everything you bade me say,”--the tears were not to be denied now; they
fell slowly unchecked.
John felt as if he would choke. It was as he had feared! He looked at
Helène confounded and utterly at a loss what to say.
“Do not blame Her Highness, Mr. Morton. She has had much to bear. She
has been waiting, hoping, expecting news from her brother, the Prince,
who was abroad when the dreadful upheaval came. She has not heard a
word, and she is almost distracted. She cannot believe that she is
alone now--that she has no friends any more. And I don’t know how to
convince her.”
Morton had recovered himself. He no longer felt any commiseration
for the Princess but instead an overpowering resentment filled him.
Was this girl to be sacrificed to satisfy an hysterical weakling of
a Princess? Once the Comtesse returned to the castle, she would be a
prisoner for the day, and the arrangements for the evening would have
been made for nothing. Why, it was absurd, ridiculous! Confound all
Princesses! He must take things in his own hands now.
His face flushing he rose and planted himself firmly before Helène.
“Comtesse, under the circumstances there is but one thing to do. I am
ready now, this very minute, as ready as I shall ever be. In half an
hour the team will be here. You will get into it just as you are and we
shall start north at once! The Princess has chosen, and we--we cannot
be expected to sit down and wait for Providence or a miracle! I shall
call Herr Rosen.”
He expected, nay, dreaded, a breakdown and a flood of tears. But in
place of hysterics, he met a woman as determined and as proud as
himself.
Helène rose, her eyes flashing, her face pink with indignation.
“How dare you, sir, speak of Her Highness in that manner! How dare
you take advantage of my helplessness! I am a Rondell, sir, and a
Rondell has never forsaken his king. My duty and my choice are with the
Princess. Permit me, sir, to retire.”
John was dumbfounded. This was worse than anything he had even dreamed
of. Good God, she must not be permitted to leave the house. What was he
to do? Where was Rosen or Rachel? He must plead with her until one or
the other came.
“I beseech you, Comtesse, not to do anything rash! I implore you to be
calm and to listen to me! I assure you, nothing was further from my
thoughts than disrespect towards the Princess or yourself. Will you not
oblige me by permitting me to reason with you?”
Helène, somewhat calmed, looked piteously at Morton. Her resentment had
vanished and in place of the proud royalist there stood the helpless
woman-child. Her lips quivered and the tears fell uncontrollably. She
collapsed rather than sat in the chair, her head sank upon her arm.
“Oh, papa--why did you abandon me?” she moaned. “Why didn’t you come
for us yourself--why did you leave me here without anyone to advise me?”
Anguish in face and heart, John stood gazing at her in pitiful
sympathy. He realized what a hard fight the child must have gone
through--pleading and persuading with the Princess. He began to think
quickly. He must abandon reasoning and plead--plead and beg for a
favor. He remembered some words his father had once said to him:
“Never argue with a woman, my boy; kneel down to her, confess you have
been wrong, throw yourself upon her mercy--beg forgiveness. She will
follow you then.”
“Comtesse, I beg you once more to forgive me! Pray listen to what I
have to say.” He broke off with a catch in his voice.
“I have traveled five thousand kilometers--to get here. I have
disobeyed the call of my loving parents, of a father who is ill, of a
mother who has not seen me--her only son--in years. I have come here
with other brave and loyal men, to bring you out of this dangerous
land. Be just to me, dear lady. I may not have the fervor of loyalty
for royalty, for I am an American--a republican. In my country kings
and queens are but as other men and women. It is their worth that
counts with us there. I wish I could have brought your dear father with
me. But that was impossible. He sent me to act for him. Your father is
most devoted to Her Royal Highness, and I--I am ready to do all that he
would have done. But first in his heart is his child. He enjoined me,
Comtesse, to think of the Princess first; but, if I could not prevail
there, I was to think of you. ‘For God’s sake,’ he said, ‘help my
child.’ That is why I am here, and that is why I spoke as I did. If I
have done wrong I beg you to pardon me.”
John had put his whole heart into his words. Helène lifted her head and
turned her eyes on him in questioning wonderment. But he left her no
time to interpolate.
“Can you blame me, dear lady, if your words unbalanced me? Faithful
to my promise to your noble father, I have made every preparation. My
men are ready and waiting. They will perish if the Princess fails us
at this the eleventh hour. And after to-day there will be no hope; for
to-morrow the tyrant of Bucharest will inaugurate a reign of terror and
God alone knows what will happen to us all, then.”
Helène’s eyes showed the remorse she was feeling. She gazed with awed
look at the man who had thus unselfishly taken upon himself a duty
which should have concerned her own kin. She was ashamed of her words
and knew not how to express her changed feelings.
“Comtesse, will you not speak with the Princess again? Tell her of
what I have said now. Convey to her your father’s earnest desires. She
should think of that, for your father was her father’s most devoted
friend. A new duty has devolved on her; in addition to the duty she
owes to herself, she owes a duty to Count Rondell, to you and, I will
say it, to me, who has her honor at heart. I am now, I must say it, the
one hope left. Assure her that she may trust me implicitly. Your noble
father, the Count, would not otherwise have sent me. Go back to the
Princess and use your most persuasive powers. If she consents, all will
be well, and I shall be very happy. But give me, first, your solemn
promise that, come what may, Princess or no Princess, you will be at
the chapel at six o’clock this evening, and that you will come to the
gate where I shall be waiting for you. Comtesse, I cannot let you go
without that promise.”
His eagerness had carried him away. He stepped up close to the
trembling girl and took her unresisting hand and held it firmly in his
own warm, strong one.
With parted lips and with wide eyes Helène had taken in every word
of his passionate pleading. This man would keep his word. She was
satisfied of that now. And her father had written to her: “Obey
implicitly and follow Mr. Morton’s instructions absolutely.” He must be
right.
Trembling she groped for the little cross hanging upon her breast. God
would not let the dear Princess perish--and she--? Well, she would try
again--she would convince her mistress!
“Yes, Mr. Morton, yes! I will do what I can. I promise everything. You
are right--we must act at once! But, oh, what will happen?”
She was trembling all over, fearful of the picture her fancy had
conjured up.
Morton, still holding her hand, gently led the girl to her seat.
“Please, Comtesse, be calm and take heart. Nothing at all will happen.
We shall get away and you will be safe and happy in a few hours. Do not
fear. I swear to you that we shall bring you safely across the border.”
Helène grew calmer. She felt her native energy coming back, and with a
blush she gently withdrew her hand from Morton’s grasp.
“Mr. Morton, I want to thank you for your goodness and your
forbearance. You have been more than kind. I promise to be at the gate
at six; with the Princess if I can, and as I pray I may be--alone, if I
cannot.”
John had won. Rising and bowing with reverence before the beautiful
young woman:
“Comtesse--I thank you. I shall always cherish your brave and
noble words. And now, if you will permit me, I must give you your
instructions. Take nothing with you, so that no suspicion may be
aroused. The corner window opening toward the street is, I understand,
that of your room. I shall watch that window. If the Princess consents
to go, leave the curtains closed as they are now. If she does not, draw
them apart, and I will understand. On your way to chapel, walk slowly
along the chapel front, which will be in deep shadow at that time, and
go to the South Gate. The sentinel will not stop you. The small door
nearest the wall will be open and I will be awaiting you there. If
the Princess is with you, lead her. And now, Comtesse, until six this
evening!”
The sound of Helène’s steps in the hall brought the alert Rachel in
apron and turned-up sleeves from the kitchen. She glanced questioningly
at Morton, who simply nodded and said: “The Comtesse knows what to do.”
The rest of the day passed quickly in the house of the Rosens. A very
excellent dinner was served him by his hostess. After dinner he smoked
his cigar and chatted with Herr Rosen in the study. Later he sat in the
little enclosure fitted as a counting room adjoining Rosen’s store, and
looked across the quiet street at the gray walls of the castle. The
storm had abated somewhat though the rain still came down and kept the
street deserted. Through the grayish veil of mist he could distinguish
the solitary figure of the sentry in hooded cloak, rifle reversed with
bayonet pointing downward, slowly walking back and forth. He could not
help speculating what the night would bring. Now and again he would
look up at the window, but no sign of parted curtains was to be seen.
Towards dark Rosen came to inquire if he had received any word. No, the
curtains still remained closed.
An early and silent supper was hastily partaken of, and sunset found
each man at his post. John saw the wagon drawing up at the gate in the
narrow street to the rear. Good, Donald and Papiu were on the job.
Don, who was introduced to Rachel, seemed to be the least nervous among
them all. He took things phlegmatically as if they were a part of his
regular duties. Outside the wind had shifted and blew as strongly as
ever. The men waited for the hour to strike. Rachel came in and told
John that the maid had reported to her that Marco was on duty. John
shook hands with her silently. Then, with a final word of warning to
Don, he hurried to his post.