BENEATH THE GROUND
While Baldos was standing guard in the long, lofty hallway the Iron
Count was busy with the machinations which were calculated to result in
a startling upheaval with the break of a new day. He prepared and swore
to the charges preferred against Baldos. They were despatched to the
princess for her perusal in the morning. Then he set about preparing the
vilest accusations against Beverly Calhoun. In his own handwriting and
over his own signature he charged her with complicity in the betrayal of
Graustark, influenced by the desires of the lover who masqueraded as her
protege. At some length he dwelt upon the well-laid plot of the spy and
his accomplice. He told of their secret meetings, their outrages against
the dignity of the court, and their unmistakable animosity toward
Graustark. For each and every count in his vicious indictment against
the girl he professed to have absolute proof by means of more than one
reputable witness.
It was not the design of Marlanx to present this document to the
princess and her cabinet. He knew full well that it would meet the fate
it deserved. It was intended for the eyes of Beverly Calhoun alone. By
means of the vile accusations, false though they were, he hoped to
terrorize her into submission. He longed to possess this lithe,
beautiful creature from over the sea. In all his life he had not
hungered for anything as he now craved Beverly Calhoun. He saw that his
position in the army was rendered insecure by the events of the last
day. A bold, vicious stroke was his only means for securing the prize he
longed for more than he longed for honor and fame.
Restless and enraged, consumed by jealousy and fear, he hung about the
castle grounds long after he had drawn the diabolical charges. He knew
that Baldos was inside the castle, favored, while he, a noble of the
realm, was relegated to ignominy and the promise of degradation.
Encamped outside the city walls the army lay without a leader. Each hour
saw the numbers augmented by the arrival of reserves from the districts
of the principality. His place was out there with the staff. Yet he
could not drag himself away from the charmed circle in which his prey
was sleeping. Morose and grim, he anxiously paced to and fro in an
obscure corner of the grounds.
"What keeps the scoundrel?" he said to himself angrily.
Presently, a villainous looking man dressed in the uniform of the
guards, stealthily approached. "I missed him, general, but I will get
him the next time." growled the man.
"Curse you for a fool!" hissed Marlanx through his teeth. As another
hireling came up. "What have you got to say?"
The man reported that Baldos had been seen on the balcony alone,
evidently on watch.
Marlanx ground his teeth and his blood stormed his reason. "The job must
be done to-night. You have your instructions. Capture him if possible;
but if necessary, kill him. You know your fate, if you fail." Marlanx
actually grinned at the thought of the punishment he would mete out to
them. "Now be off!"
Rashly he made his way to the castle front. A bright moon cast its
mellow glow over the mass of stone outlined against the western sky. For
an hour he glowered in the shade of the trees, giving but slight heed to
the guards who passed from time to time. His eyes never left the
enchanted balcony.
At last he saw the man. Baldos came from the floor at the end of the
balcony, paced the full length in the moonlight, paused for a moment
near Beverly Calhoun's window and then disappeared through the same door
that had afforded him egress.
Inside the dark castle the clock at the end of the hall melodiously
boomed the hour of two. Dead quiet followed the soft echoes of the
gong. A tall figure stealthily opened the door to Yetive's chapel and
stepped inside. There was a streak of moonlight through the clear window
at the far end of the room. Baldos, his heart beating rapidly, stood
still for a moment, awaiting the next move in the game. The ghost-like
figure of a woman suddenly stood before him in the path of the moonbeam,
a hooded figure in dark robes. He started as if confronted by the
supernatural.
"Come," came in an agitated whisper, and he stepped to the side of the
phantom. She turned and the moonlight fell upon the face of Beverly
Calhoun, "Don't speak. Follow me as quickly as you can."
He grasped her arm, bringing her to a standstill.
"I have changed my mind," he whispered in her ear. "Do you think I will
run away and leave you to shoulder the blame for all this? On the
balcony near your window an hour ago I--"
"It doesn't make any difference," she argued. "You have to go. I want
you to go. If you knew just how I feel toward you you would go without a
murmur."
"You mean that you hate me," he groaned.
"I wouldn't be so unkind as to say that," she fluttered. "I don't know
who you are. Come; we can't delay a minute. I have a key to the gate at
the other end of the passage and I know where the secret panel is
located. Hush! It doesn't matter where I got the key. See! See how easy
it is?"
He felt her tense little fingers in the darkness searching for
his. Their hands were icy cold when the clasp came. Together they stood
in a niche of the wall near the chancel rail. It was dark and a cold
draft of air blew across their faces. He could not see, but there was
proof enough that she had opened the secret panel in the wall, and that
the damp, chill air came from the underground passage, which led to a
point outside the city walls.
"You go first," she whispered nervously. "I'm afraid. There is a lantern
on the steps and I have some matches. We'll light it as soon as--Oh,
what was that?"
"Don't be frightened," he said. "I think it was a rat."
"Good gracious!" she gasped. "I wouldn't go in there for the world."
"Do you mean to say that you intended to do so?" he asked eagerly.
"Certainly. Someone has to return the key to the outer gate. Oh, I
suppose I'll have to go in. You'll keep them off, won't you?"
plaintively. He was smiling in the darkness, thinking what a dear,
whimsical thing she was.
"With my life," he said softly.
"They're ten times worse than lions," she announced.
"You must not forget that you return alone," he said triumphantly.
"But I'll have the lantern going full blast," she said, and then allowed
him to lead her into the narrow passageway. She closed the panel and
then felt about with her foot until it located the lantern. In a minute
they had a light. "Now, don't be afraid," she said encouragingly. He
laughed in pure delight; she misunderstood his mirth and was conscious
of a new and an almost unendurable pang. He was filled with exhilaration
over the prospect of escape! Somehow she felt an impulse to throw her
arms about him and drag him back into the chapel, in spite of the ghost
of the game-warden's daughter.
"What is to prevent me from taking you with me?" he said intensely, a
mighty longing in his breast. She laughed but drew back uneasily.
"And live unhappily ever afterward?" said she. "Oh, dear me! Isn't this
a funny proceeding? Just think of me, Beverly Calhoun, being mixed up
in schemes and plots and intrigues and all that. It seems like a great
big dream. And that reminds me: you will find a raincoat at the foot of
the steps. I couldn't get other clothes for you, so you'll have to wear
the uniform. There's a stiff hat of Mr. Lorry's also. You've no idea how
difficult it is for a girl to collect clothes for a man. There doesn't
seem to be any real excuse for it, you know. Goodness, it looks black
ahead there, doesn't it? I hate underground things. They're so damp and
all that. How far is it, do you suppose, to the door in the wall?" She
was chattering on, simply to keep up her courage and to make her fairest
show of composure.
"It's a little more than three hundred yards," he replied. They were
advancing through the low, narrow stone-lined passage. She steadfastly
ignored the hand he held back for support. It was not a pleasant place,
this underground way to the outside world. The walls were damp and
mouldy; the odor of the rank earth assailed the nostrils; the air was
chill and deathlike.
"How do you know?" she demanded quickly.
"I have traversed the passage before. Miss Calhoun," he replied. She
stopped like one paralyzed, her eyes wide and incredulous. "Franz was my
guide from the outer gate into the chapel. It is easy enough to get
outside the walls, but extremely difficult to return," he went on
easily.
"You mean to say that you have been in and out by way of this passage?
Then, what was your object, sir?" she demanded sternly.
"My desire to communicate with friends who could not enter the
city. Will it interest you if I say that the particular object of my
concern was a young woman?"
She gasped and was stubbornly silent for a long time. Bitter resentment
filled her soul, bitter disappointment in this young man. "A young
woman!" he had said, oh, so insolently. There could be but one
inference, one conclusion. The realization of it settled one point in
her mind forever.
"It wouldn't interest me in the least. I don't even care who she
was. Permit me to wish you much joy with her. Why don't you go on?"
irritably, forgetting that it was she who delayed progress. His smile
was invisible in the blackness above the lantern. There were no words
spoken until after they had reached the little door in the wall.
Here the passage was wider. There were casks and chests on the floor,
evidently containing articles that required instant removal from
Edelweiss in case of an emergency.
"Who was that woman?" she asked at last. The key to the door was in the
nervous little hand.
"One very near and dear to me. Miss Calhoun. That's all I can say at
this time."
"Well, this is the only time you will have the chance," she cried
loftily. "Here we part. Hush!" she whispered, involuntarily grasping his
arm. "I think I heard a step. Can anyone be following us?" They stopped
and listened. It was as still as a tomb.
"It must be the same old rat," he answered jokingly. She was too nervous
for any pleasantries, and releasing her hold on his arm, said timidly, a
"Good-bye!"
"Am I to go in this manner? Have you no kind word for me? I love you
better than my soul. It is of small consequence to you, I know, but I
crave one forgiving word. It may be the last." He clasped her hand and
she did not withdraw it. Her lips were trembling, but her eyes were
brave and obstinate. Suddenly she sat down upon one of the chests. If he
had not told her of the other woman!
"Forgive me instead, for all that I have brought you to," she
murmured. "It was all my fault. I shall never forget you or forgive
myself. I--I am going back to Washin'ton immediately. I can't bear to
stay here now. Good-bye, and God bless you. Do--do you think we shall
ever see each other again?" Unconsciously she was clinging to his
hand. There were tears in the gray eyes that looked pathetically up into
his. She was very dear and enchanting, down there in the grewsome
passageway with the fitful rays of the lantern lighting her face. Only
the strictest self-control kept him from seizing her in his arms, for
something told him that she would have surrendered.
"This is the end, I fear," he said, with grim persistence. She caught
her breath in half a sob. Then she arose resolutely, although her knees
trembled shamelessly.
"Well, then, good-bye," she said very steadily. "You are free to go
where and to whom you like. Think of me once in awhile, Baldos. Here's
the key. Hurry! I--I can't stand it much longer!" She was ready to break
down and he saw it, but he made no sign.
Turning the key in the rusty lock, he cautiously opened the door. The
moonlit world lay beyond. A warm, intoxicating breath of fresh air came
in upon them. He suddenly stooped and kissed her hand.
"Forgive me for having annoyed you with my poor love," he said, as he
stood in the door, looking into the night beyond.
"All--all right," she choked out as she started to close the door after
him.
"Halt! You are our prisoner!"
The words rang out sharply in the silence of the night. Instinctively,
Beverly made an attempt to close the door; but she was too late. Two
burly, villainous looking men, sword in hand, blocked the exit and
advanced upon them.
"Back! Back!" Baldos shouted to Beverly, drawing his sword.
Like a flash, she picked up the lantern and sprang out of his
way. Capture or worse seemed certain; but her heart did not fail her.
"Put up your sword! You are under arrest!" came from the foremost of
the two. He had heard enough of Baldos's skill with the sword to hope
that the ruse might be successful and that he would surrender peaceably
to numbers. The men's instructions were to take their quarry alive if
possible. The reward for the man, living, exceeded that for him dead.
Baldos instantly recognized them as spies employed by Marlanx. They had
been dogging his footsteps for days and even had tried to murder him,
The desire for vengeance was working like madness in his blood. He was
overjoyed at having them at the point of his sword. Beverly's presence
vouchsafed that he would show little mercy.
"Arrest me, you cowardly curs!" he exclaimed. "Never!" With a spring to
one side, he quickly overturned one of the casks and pushing it in front
of him, it served as a rolling bulwark, preventing a joint attack.
"You first!" he cried coolly, as his sword met that of the leader. The
unhappy wretch was no match for the finest swordsman in Graustark. He
made a few desperate attempts to ward off his inevitable fate, calling
loudly for his comrade to aid him. The latter was eager enough, but
Baldos's strategic roll of the cask effectively prevented him from
taking a hand. With a vicious thrust, the blade of the goat-hunter tore
clean through the man's chest and touched the wall behind.
"One!" cried Baldos, gloating in the chance that had come to him. The
man gasped and fell. He was none too quick in withdrawing his dripping
weapon, for the second man was over the obstacle and upon him.