NEWS BY TELEPHONE
WHEN the Emperor arrived at Wandeck he went immediately to the hotel
which in his telegram, he had designated as a place of meeting. But no
such ladies as he hoped to find had come to the Maximilianhof; and the
question raised by this intelligence was, whether Miss de Courcy had
failed to receive his message or, having received, had chosen to
ignore it.
The doubt, harrowing while it lasted, was solved by returning to the
Bahnhof; though certainty proved scarcely less tantalizing than
uncertainty had been. The telegram was still in the hands of the
stationmaster, to whose care it had been addressed. This diligent
person had himself gone through the Orient express, from end to end,
inquiring for Miss de Courcy, but no one had responded. The lady might
already have left the train at Wandeck, it was true; her description
might be given and inquiries made; but she would certainly not have
had time to go far, and return to the train again before its
departure.
It was evident throughout the short conversation that the unfortunate
official was on pins and needles. Struck by the Emperor's features,
which he had seen so often in painting and photograph, it yet seemed
impossible that the greatest man in Rhaetia could thus be travelling
about the country, in ordinary morning dress, and unattended. Sure at
one instant that it must be the Emperor, as sure the next that it was
not, the poor fellow struggled against his confusion in a way that
would have amused Maximilian had he not been too much engrossed with
other matters even to observe it. With a manner that essayed the
difficult mean between reverence due to Royalty and commonplace
courtesy good enough for everyday gentlemen, the stationmaster
volunteered to ascertain whether the ladies described had passed out,
delivering up their tickets. A few moments of suspense followed; then
came the news that no such persons had been seen.
Here was a quandary. Since Mary de Courcy and her mother had not
travelled by the Orient express, where had they gone on leaving the
Hohenburgerhof? Had they deceived Baroness von Lynar regarding their
intentions, for the purpose of blinding the Emperor (a purpose well
served), or had they simply changed their minds, as women may? Was it
possible that they had changed them so radically as to go back to
Schloss Lynarberg; or had they chosen to be mysterious, and vanish
from Rhaetia, leaving no trace behind? Maximilian recalled the
Chancellor's revelations, then dismissed them as soon as thought of.
Wherever lay the clue to this tangle, it was not in any act of which
Mary de Courcy need be ashamed.
There seemed to be nothing for it but to go back to Salzbrück and
await developments, or rather, stir them up by every means within his
power. This was the course which Maximilian chose; and, just as he was
about to act upon it, he remembered his careless promise to Count von
Markstein.
There was a telephone in the railway station, and in a few moments
came the "ping" of the bell which told that connection was
established; then the "Hello!" which Germany and Rhaetia had adopted
from America, brought an answering squeak, unmistakably in the
Chancellor's voice.
"My friends are not here; I am starting for Salzbrück again by the
next train," cautiously remarked the Emperor. "I don't see the use
of bothering with this, but would not break my promise. That's all;
good-bye--eh?--what did you say?"
"I--have--a--piece of extraordinary news for you," came over the wire
from Salzbrück. "About the ladies."
"What is it?" demanded Maximilian, in the pause that followed.
"I hinted of information which might make you see certain matters
differently. I could not speak more definitely then, for I was not
sure. Now I _am_ sure. Your friends did not go by the Orient express."
"I know that already," returned the Emperor, whose eyes began to
flash, and who glared at the telephone as if it were some noxious
beast spitting venom.
"They gave out that they were leaving Rhaetia. But they have not
crossed the frontier."
"I am much obliged to you for the information. It is exactly what I
wanted," was the Emperor's retort.
"You know who bought a hunting-lodge near Bünden, in the Niederwald,
last year?"
"Yes, I know whom you mean," went sullenly over the wire. "What has
that to do with my friends?"
"Only that one of them has gone there. You can guess which. The others
remain in Salzbrück. It seems that the--new owner of the hunting-lodge
has known them for some time, though he was ignorant of this malicious
masquerade. The one of whom we spoke is an actress. The owner arrived
at the lodge this morning, drove into town, where your friend had
waited, evidently expecting him, invited her to pay him a visit; and
the invitation was accepted."
"I'll never believe that till I see them together, with my own eyes!"
"Will you go with me to-night when you return, and honour them with an
unexpected call?"
"I will--d--n you!" shouted the Emperor. It was the first time that
he had ever so far forgotten his dignity as to swear at the
Chancellor.
He dropped the receiver, tossed a gold coin, with his own head upon it
(at the moment he could have wished he had no other), down on the
attendant's desk, and, waving away an offer of change, stalked out of
the office.
Beneath his breath he swore again, the strongest oaths which the rich
language of his father land provided, anathematizing, not the maligned
woman whom he loved, but the man who had maligned her.
There was madness in the thought that she could be false to herself
and her confession of love for him. He would not entertain it. Let the
whole world reek with foulness, if only his love might still shine
above it white and remote as the young moon in heaven.
The old man whose life would scarce be safe could his Emperor lay
hands upon him in his present mood--this old man had a grudge against
the one perfect girl on earth. There was no shameful rag of gossip
which he would not stoop to pick up from the mud and fly as a flag of
battle, calming his conscience (if he still kept one) by saying that
it was "for the country's good."
Telling himself these things and many others, Maximilian hurried away
to inquire for the next train back to Salzbrück. There would not be
another for three hours. It would be impossible to restrain his
impatience for so long, sure as he was of his love's innocence. There
was a raging tiger in his breast, that would not cease to tear him
until he had seen Mary de Courcy, told her what it was in his heart to
do for her sake, received her answer, and, through it, punished the
Chancellor.
The only way to do all this without intolerable delay was to abandon
his design to be inconspicuous, and order a special train. He could
have one, it appeared, in an hour, or a little more. The journey to
Salzbrück would occupy three hours, and it would therefore be well on
toward eight o'clock before he could start for the hunting-lodge named
by Von Markstein. Drive as fast as he might, he could not reach the
place before half-past nine; still, he would go, and the Chancellor
should go with him. Not because Miss de Courcy would be there, but
rather, because she would not; and because Von Markstein must be made
to confess the criminal error into which his misplaced zeal had led
him.