I saw some rye bread, cold meat and a pitcher of water on the table,
and I made a sandwich and washed it down with a few swallows of the
cool liquid. I had a fever and the water chilled it. There was a lump
on the back of my head as large as an egg. With what water remained I
dampened my handkerchief and wound it around the injury. Then I made a
systematic search through my clothes. Not a single article of my
belongings was missing. I was rather sorry, for it lent a deeper
significance to my incarceration. After this, I proceeded to take an
inventory of my surroundings. Below and beyond the little window I saw
a wide expanse of beautiful gardens, fine oaks and firs, velvet lawns
and white pebbled roads. Marble fountains made them merry in the
roseate hue of early morning. A gardener was busy among some hedges,
but beyond the sound of my voice. I was a prisoner in no common jail,
then, but in the garret of a private residence. Having satisfied
myself that there was no possible escape, I returned to my pallet and
lay down. Why I was here a prisoner I knew not. I thought over all I
had written the past twelvemonth, but nothing recurred to me which
would make me liable to arrest. But, then, I had not been arrested. I
had been kidnapped, nothing less. Nothing had been asked of me; I had
made no statement. It had been all too sudden. Presently I heard
footsteps in the corridor, and the door opened. It was mine enemy. He
locked the door and thrust the key into his pocket. One of his eyes
was decidedly mouse-colored. The knuckles of my hand were yet sore. I
smiled; he saw the smile, his jaws hardening and his eyes threatening.
"I am sorry," I said. "I should have hit you on the point of your
chin; but I was in a great hurry. Did you ever try raw meat as a
poultice?"
"Enough of this," he snapped, laying a pistol on the table. I was
considered dangerous; it was something to know that. "You must answer
my questions."
"Must?"
"Must."
"Young man you have no tact. You are not an accomplished villain,"
said I, pleasantly. "You should begin by asking me how I spent the
night, and if there was not something you could do for my material
comfort. Perhaps, however, you will first answer a few questions of
mine?"
"There are only two men whose questions I answer," he said.
"And who might they be?"
"My commander and the King. I will answer one question--the reason you
are here. You are a menace to the tranquility of the State."
"Oh; then I have the honor of being what is called a prisoner of State?
Be careful," I cried, suddenly; "that pistol might go off, and then the
American Minister might ask you in turn some questions, disagreeable
ones, too."
"The American Minister would never know anything about it," said he,
gruffly. "But have no fear; I should hesitate to soil an innocent
leaden bullet in your carcass."
"Be gentle," I advised, "or when we meet again I shall feel it my duty
to dull the lustre of your other eye."
"Pah!" he ejaculated. "We are indebted to the French for the word
canaille, which applies to all Americans and Englishmen."
"Now," said I, climbing off the pallet, "I shall certainly do it."
"I warn you not to approach me," he cried, his fingers closing over the
pistol.
"Well, I promise not to do it now," I declared, going over to the
window. I found some satisfaction in his nervousness; it told me that
he feared me. "What place is this; a palace?"
"Answer this question, sir: Why did you cross the frontier when you
were expressly forbidden to do so?"
"I forbidden to cross the frontier?" My astonishment was
indescribable. "Young man, you have made a blunder of some sort. I am
not a Socialist or an Anarchist. I have never been forbidden to cross
the frontier of any country. Your Chancellor is one of the best
friends I have in the world. I went to school with his son."
He rocked to and fro on the table, laughing honestly and heartily.
"You do not lack impudence. Are you, or are you not, the London
correspondent of the New York ------?"
"I certainly am."
"You admit it?" eagerly.
"I see no earthly reason why I should not."
"When did you last visit this city?"
"Several years ago."
"Several years ago?" incredulously.
"Exactly. Have you ever seen me before?"
"No. But it was a little less than two years ago when you were here."
"It is scarcely polite," said I, "to question the veracity of a man you
never saw before and of whom you know positively nothing." Suddenly my
head began to throb again and I grew dizzy. "You hit me rather soundly
with that pistol. Still, your eye ought to be a recompense."
He replied with a scowl.
"Perhaps your name is ------"
"Winthrop, John Winthrop, if that will throw any light on the subject."'
"One name is as good as another," with a smile of unbelief.
"That is true. What's in a name? There is little difference, after
all, between the names of the nobility and the rabble."
"You are determined to irritate me beyond measure," said he. A German
is the most sensitive man in the world as regards his title.
"Grant that I have some cause. And perhaps," observing him from the
corner of my eye, "it is because you smoke such vile tobacco."
Remembering the incident in the railway carriage, he smiled in spite of
the gravity of the situation.
"It was the best I had," he said; "and then, it was done in
self-defence. I'll give you credit for being a fearless individual.
But you haven't answered my question."
"What question?"
"Why you returned to this country when you were expressly forbidden to
do so."
"I answered that," said I. "And now let me tell you that you may go on
asking questions till the crack of doom, but no answer will I give you
till you have told me why I am here, I, who do not know you or what
your business is, or what I am supposed to have done."
He began to look doubtful. He thumped the table with the butt of the
pistol.
"Do you persist in affirming that your name is Winthrop?"
"These gardens are very fine. I could see them better," said I, "if
the window was larger."
"Perhaps," he cried impatiently, "you do not know where she is?"
"She?" I looked him over carefully. There was a perfectly sane light
in his eyes. "Am I crazy, or is it you? She? I know nothing about
any she!"
"Do you dare deny that you know of the whereabouts of her Serene
Highness the Princess Hildegarde, and that you did not come here with
the purpose to aid her to escape the will of his Majesty? And do you
mean--Oh, here, read this!" flinging me a cablegram.
The veil of mystery fell away from my eyes. I had been mistaken for
Hillars. Truly, things were growing interesting. I bent and picked up
the cablegram and read:
"COUNT VON WALDEN: He has left London and is on his way to the capital.
Your idea to allow him to cross the frontier is a good one.
Undoubtedly he knows where the Princess is in hiding. In trapping him
you will ultimately trap her. Keep me informed."
The name signed was that of a well-known military attaché at the
Embassy in London. I tossed back the cablegram.
"Well?" triumphantly.
"No, it is not well; it is all very bad, and particularly for you.
Your London informant is decidedly off the track. The man you are
looking for is in Vienna."
"I do not believe you! It is a trick."
"Yes, it is a trick, and I am taking it, and you have lost a point, to
say nothing of the time and labor and a black eye. If you had asked
all these questions yesterday I should have told you that Mr.
Hillars----"
"Yes, that's the name!" he interrupted.
"I should have told you that he is no longer the London representative
of my paper. It is true that the description of Hillars and myself
tallies somewhat, only my hair is dark, while his is light, what there
is left of it, and he is a handsomer man than I. All this I should
have told you with pleasure, and you would have been saved no end of
trouble. I presume that there is nothing left for you to do but to
carry me back to the city. To quell any further doubt, here are my
passports, and if these are not satisfactory, why take me before Prince
O----, your Chancellor."
He was irresolute, and half inclined to believe me.
"I do not know what to do. You know, then, the gentleman I am seeking?"
"Yes."
"Would he enter this country under an assumed name?"
"No. He is a man who loves excitement. Whatever he does is done
openly. Had it been he instead of me, he would have thrown you out of
the carriage at the first sign on your part that you were watching him.
He is a very strong man."
"If he is stronger than you, I am half glad that I got the wrong man.
You strike a pretty hard blow. But, whether you are the man I want, or
not, you will have to remain till this afternoon, when the Count will
put in appearance. I daresay it is possible that I have made a
mistake. But I could not do otherwise in face of my instructions."
"The Princess seems to me more trouble than she is worth."
"It is possible that you have never seen her Highness," he said,
hinting a smile. "She is worth all the trouble in the world."
"If a man loved her," I suggested.
"And what man does not who has seen her and talked to her?" he replied,
pacing.
"The interest, then, you take in her discovery is not all due to that
imposed upon you by Count von Walden?" I could not resist this thrust.
"The subject is one that does not admit discussion," squaring his
shoulders.
"Suppose we talk of something that does not concern her? All this is a
blunder for which you are partly to blame. I have a bad lump on my
head and you have a black eye. But as you did what you believed to be
your duty, and as I did what every man does when self-preservation
becomes his first thought, let us cry quits. Come, what do you say to
a game of cards? Let us play ecarte, or I will teach you the noble
game of poker. To tell you the truth, I am becoming dreadfully bored."
"Believe me, I bear you no ill will," he said, "and I am inclined to
your side of the story. Whoever you are, you have the bearing of a
gentleman; and, now that we have come to an understanding, I shall
treat you as such. I have a pack of cards downstairs. I'll go and get
them. This is not my house, or I should have placed you in better
quarters. I shall leave the door unlocked," a question in his eyes.
"Rest assured that I shall return to the city as I came--in a carriage.
And to be honest, I am anxious to see the Count von Walden, who poses
as the Princess's watchdog."
And when he came back and found me still sitting on the pallet, his
face cleared.
We played for small sums, and the morning passed away rather pleasantly
than otherwise. The young officer explained to me that he held an
important position at court, and that he was entitled to prefix Baron
to his name.
"The King is getting out of all patience with her Highness," he said.
"This makes the second time the marriage has been postponed. Such
occurrences are extremely annoying to his Majesty, who does not relish
having his commands so flagrantly disregarded. I shouldn't be
surprised if he forced her into the marriage."
"When he knows how distasteful this marriage is to her, why does he not
let the matter go?"
"It is too late now. Royalty, having given its word, never retracts
it. Events which the King wills must come to pass, or he loses a part
of his royal dignity. And then, a King cannot very well be subservient
to the will of a subject."
"But has she no rights as a petty sovereign?" I asked.
"Only those which the King is kind enough to give her. She is but a
tenant: the rulers of Hohenphalia are but guests of his Majesty. It is
to be regretted, but it cannot be helped."
That afternoon, as I lay on my pallet, it seemed to me that in some
unaccountable way I was destined to become concerned in the affairs of
her Serene Highness. I had never seen the woman, not even a picture of
her. Certainly, she must be worth loving, inasmuch as she was worth
trouble. I have always found it to be the troublesome woman who has
the largest train of lovers. Troublesome, they are interesting;
interesting, they are lovable.
It was more than a year since last I saw Phyllis; yet my love for her
knew no diminution. I began to understand why Hillars traveled all
over the Continent to get a glimpse of the woman he loved. With the
pleasant thought that I should see Phyllis again, I dozed. I was half
asleep when I was aroused by loud voices in the corridor.
"But I do not believe him to be the man," I heard my jailer declare.
"Bah! I know there is no mistake," roared a voice which was accustomed
to command. "He's been trying to hoodwink you. Watch the surprise in
his face when he sees me, the cursed meddler and scribbler. It would
be a pleasure to witness his hanging. Come, show him to me."
"Yes; come along, my dear old warhorse," I murmured, turning my face
toward the wall. "There is a nice little surprise party in here
waiting for you."
The door opened.
"Unlocked!" bawled the Count. "What does this mean, Baron?"
"He gave his word as a gentleman," was the quiet reply.
"Gentleman? Ach! I'll take a look at the gentleman," said the Count,
stepping up to the pallet and shaking me roughly by the shoulder.
"Wake up!"
I sat up so as not to miss the comedy which was about to set its scenes
upon the grim visage of the Count. As his eyes met mine his jaw fell.
"A thousand devils! Who are you?"
"I couldn't swear," said I, meekly. "Everybody hereabouts insists that
I am some one else. The situation warrants a complete explanation.
Perhaps you can give it?" I should have laughed but for those flashing
eyes.
"You are a blockhead," he said to his subaltern.
"He is the man, according to your London correspondent," responded the
other with some show of temper. "I cannot see that the fault lies at
my door. You told me that he would enter the country under an assumed
name."
"I presume the affair is ended so far as I am concerned," I said,
shaking the lameness from my legs.
"Of course, of course!" replied the Count, pulling at his gray
mustaches, which flared out on either side like the whiskers of a cat.
"I should like to return to the city at once," I added.
"Certainly. I regret that you have been the victim of a blunder for
which some one shall suffer. Your compatriot has caused me a deal of
trouble."
"I assure you that he is in no wise connected with the present matter.
According to his latest advices he is at Vienna."
"I should be most happy to believe that," was the Count's rejoinder,
which inferred that he didn't believe it.
"My friend seems to be a dangerous person?"
"All men of brains, coupled with impudence, are dangerous; and I give
your friend credit for being as brave as he is impudent. But come, my
carriage is at your service. You are a journalist, but you will
promise not to make public this unfortunate mistake."
I acquiesced.
When the Count and I parted company I had not the vaguest idea that we
should ever hold conversation again.
The result of the adventure was, I sent a very interesting story to New
York, omitting my part in it. This done, I wired my assistant in
London not to expect me for some time yet.
The truth was, I determined to hunt for Hillars, and incidentally for
her Serene Highness the Princess Hildegarde of Hohenphalia.