On the morning of the following day, Baron von Raven sat, as usual,
busily occupied in his study, when it was announced to him that the
Superintendent of Police requested an audience. This functionary came
but rarely to the Castle in these days. For one thing, order being now
completely re-established in the town, there was no longer any
necessity for perpetual messages to, and conferences with, the
Governor; moreover, since the affair of Brunnow's arrest. Raven had
received him with such marked coldness, that the police officer avoided
as much as possible all meetings with his Excellency. Now, however, it
had become necessary to discuss some official regulations. He therefore
repaired to the Government-house, was admitted to Raven's presence, and
at once laid before him the matter in hand, which was despatched by
both gentlemen as briefly, and in as business-like a tone, as possible.
The Superintendent preserved his accustomed suavity of manner, though,
taking his cue from the Governor, he assumed a certain degree of
reserve. No allusion to recent events did this wary individual permit
to himself. The Baron's attitude was loftier, haughtier than ever; but
there was something in the proud man's look that suggested a strange
parallel, that recalled the hunted stag, which, feeling its strength
exhausted and its end approaching, gathers together its last remaining
energies, and turns at bay to face the pursuers. The undaunted spirit
still visible in his every feature was perhaps no longer the sign of
conscious power, but only the outcome of despair.
One part of the conversation had been brought to a conclusion. Speaking
of the measures which it had lately fallen to his province to carry
out, the Superintendent alluded to the release of Dr. Brunnow. The
Baron interrupted him, asking:
"When was Brunnow set at liberty?"
"Yesterday at noon."
"Indeed?" remarked Raven, laconically.
"I hear the Doctor intends to leave this city tomorrow," went on the
Superintendent. "He will return at once to Switzerland, where he
intends to spend the remaining years of his life."
"He is right," said the Baron. "A man who has lived so many years in
exile can seldom or never feel at home again in his native land. The
adopted country generally prevails over the old."
He spoke indifferently, as though his remarks applied to some stranger,
of whose pardon he had accidentally heard. The Superintendent was not
duped by this assumed composure, but, in spite of his keen powers of
observation, he had not succeeded in piercing the ramparts with which
this guarded and taciturn nature had fenced itself around, or to
discover what position the Baron meant to take up with regard to the
accusations lately brought against him.
A servant came in, bringing to the Governor a despatch which had just
arrived from the capital--a great official document. Raven signed to
the man to withdraw, and broke the seal, saying carelessly:
"You will excuse me for a minute?"
"Pray do not let me be any restraint, your Excellency," replied the
Superintendent, politely; but, as he spoke, his eyes travelled with a
peculiar curious gaze from the letter to its recipient.
Raven unfolded the despatch. Hardly had he cast a glance at its
contents when he started violently. His face grew livid, and his right
hand, closing on the paper, crushed it convulsively. A quiver of rage,
or of pain, shook his mighty frame, and for a moment it seemed as
though his emotion would master him.
"I hope you have received no unpleasant news," asked the police
officer, with a well-feigned accent of sympathy.
The Baron looked up. He fixed his stern, searching eyes on the face of
the man before him, whose _role_, since the circumstances of Brunnow's
arrest, he had perfectly divined, and on whose features he now detected
a slight derisive flicker, which showed his visitor was already
acquainted with the contents of the document. That restored his
strength, and brought back his composure.
"Surprising news, to say the least," he answered, laying the despatch
aside. "But there will be time to attend to that later on. Pray proceed
with what you were saying."
The other hesitated. This wonderful self-command produced a certain
effect on him. He had seen with his own eyes that the blow had struck
home, but all further satisfaction was denied him. The wound should not
bleed in his presence. The injured man pressed his hand on the spot,
and stood erect as before. Was the haughty, stubborn spirit, the
arrogance of this Raven, never to be broken?
"We have discussed the principal topics under notice," replied the
Superintendent, with a certain embarrassment. "If you have other claims
on your time, I will not detain you."
"Go on, I beg!" The Baron's voice was low, but very steady.
The Superintendent saw that any show of forbearance would be looked on
as an insult. He therefore took up the thread of their former
conversation. The remarks made by Raven, as he concluded his report,
were perfectly apt and to the point, but they were spoken mechanically,
and his manner, too, was mechanical as he rose from his chair when the
Superintendent prepared to depart.
"Your Excellency has no other recommendations to make to me?"
"No; I can only recommend you to follow out your instructions as
punctually as hitherto. In that case, some recognition of your services
will surely follow."
The other thought fit to feign bewilderment.
"I do not understand your Excellency. To what instructions do you
allude?"
"To those you received before leaving the capital, when, together with
the official duties of your service, a special surveillance was
committed to you."
"Ah! the surveillance of the town, you mean? I think, in that respect,
I have done my duty. Besides, the troubles are over now, and all that
is at an end."
"Exactly," replied Raven, with a contemptuous smile; "and all relations
between us at an end, too, as you will readily understand."
Without wasting another word on him, he turned his back on his visitor,
and walked up to the window. This might well have been construed into
an insult, but it did not suit the Superintendent's policy to take
offence; that might lead to unpleasant consequences. He took leave,
therefore, with a courteous bow, which was not returned, and left the
room.
Once outside, he drew a breath of relief. It had been disagreeable to
him to find that the Baron saw through him and accurately judged his
line of conduct, the more disagreeable that he had no cause to look on
the Governor as a personal enemy. He had merely acted in the discharge
of "his mission" in ferreting out all that related to Raven's past, and
in securing the living key to that past, Dr. Brunnow, so that the
secret unearthed at last might safely be published to the world. With
such sophistical arguments he easily consoled himself for the equivocal
part he had played towards the Baron from first to last, the more
easily that his acting had been successful and altogether achieved its
aim.
Raven was left alone. He stood before his writing-table, and once again
read through the fatal despatch. It signified to him his dismissal from
office, and was worded in curt, almost offensive terms. No explanation,
no defence was required from this man against whom such heavy charges
had been brought. Time, indeed, had not been allowed him to explain or
to vindicate himself. He was condemned unheard. It was not even left
open to him to resign, the usual expedient in such cases. He was
dismissed summarily, in a manner which could leave no doubt in the
public mind that the Government took the side of the accusers, and
considered that the case had been proved against their representative.
The Baron dashed the paper from him, and paced the room in a fierce,
mute conflict of emotions. His lips twitched, and a fiery light gleamed
in his eyes.
All at once he stopped, as though a sudden thought had flashed upon
him, and went slowly up to a side-table on which stood a box of small
dimensions. A slight pressure on the spring caused the lid to fly open,
and displayed a brace of elaborately-chased pistols. The Baron took one
out and examined it carefully, to convince himself that it was in
perfect order. For some minutes he held the pistol in his hand, gazing
down at it lost in moody thought; then he laid it back in its place
again, and drew himself up quickly.
"No," he said, under his breath; "that would pass for cowardice, for an
avowal of guilt. Some other way must be found. They shall, at least,
not have that triumph."
He threw down the lid of the box, and turning away, began again the
silent, restless pacing to and fro, the sombre brooding search for a
plan at all points suitable. A solution must be found.
Meanwhile Dr. Brunnow, in his son's rooms, was busily preparing for his
departure, now irrevocably fixed for the morrow. Max had left him to
prosecute the "siege" he had commenced on the preceding day. He was
again a visitor at Councillor Moser's dwelling, and again employing all
his batteries of argument to prove to the old gentleman what a
distinguished, and in all respects desirable, son-in-law the latter
would obtain in Dr. Max Brunnow. Neither locks nor bolts could avail
against the persistency of this undaunted suitor.
His father let him take his way. He knew Max well, and felt sure that
the young man would eventually be victorious. Had he followed his own
wishes, he would have started on his return journey that same day, but
the promise he had given his son bound him to remain twenty-four hours
longer. The ground he walked on seemed to scorch his feet; he longed to
be away, and all the congratulations, the marks of sympathy lavished on
him on his release, seemed but to make his stay still more distasteful
to him.
Brunnow had just finished a letter, telling of his speedy return home,
and was about to ring and confide it to the maid to post, when the
latter came running in unsummoned, and announced breathlessly:
"Doctor, Doctor, his Excellency the Governor!"
"Who?" asked Brunnow, absently, closing the envelope.
"His Excellency, sir, the Governor."
Brunnow turned quickly. His look fell on the Baron, who had followed
the servant and was standing in the anteroom. Raven entered now, and
said ceremoniously:
"May I ask for a few minutes' conversation with you, Dr. Brunnow?"
"I am at your Excellency's service," replied Brunnow, warned by the
amazement on the maid's face that he must show no signs of
perturbation. He gave the girl his letter, and sent her away. When they
were left together. Raven dropped his assumed formality of tone.
"My coming surprises you. Are we alone?"
"Yes; my son is out."
"I am glad to hear it, for this present interview of ours brooks no
witnesses. Will you have the kindness to close the door securely, so
that we may not be interrupted?"
The Doctor silently complied. He drew the bolt on the entrance door,
and then returned to the inner room. His uneasy glance seemed to ask
the import of this singular, this most unlooked-for visit. The two men
stood a few seconds face to face, silent, but with hostility in the
attitude of each, as at their first meeting.
The Baron spoke first.
"You hardly expected to see me here?"
"I really do not know what errand can bring the Governor of
R---- beneath this roof," was the answer.
"I am Governor no longer," said Raven, coldly.
Brunnow turned on him a quick, scrutinising gaze.
"You have given in your resignation?" he asked.
"I am leaving my post," the other answered, in an agitated voice.
"Before I quit the town, however, I wish to obtain some information as
to that article in the newspaper which refers so minutely to events in
my past life. You are, I think, the person most likely to afford me
this information, and therefore I come to you."
The Doctor turned away. "That article did not emanate from me," he
said, after a short pause.
"That may be, but, in any case, you prompted it. We two are now the
last survivors of those who were implicated in that catastrophe. The
others are dead, or have been altogether lost sight of. You alone were
in a position to make those disclosures."
Brunnow was silent. He remembered but too well the inconsiderate words
which the Superintendent's wily man[oe]uvre had wrested from him, and
which had since been published throughout the length and breadth of the
land.
"I only wonder that you did not turn your knowledge of these
occurrences to account sooner," went on Raven; "you, or the others who
shared it."
"You can answer that question yourself," said Brunnow. "We lacked
evidence. If we ourselves were profoundly convinced of your guilt, that
was our affair alone. The world requires proofs, tangible proofs, and
these we could not produce. Why no voice has been raised against you
before this, you ask? No one knows better than you that, in those
arbitrary times, which, it is to be hoped, are now for ever past and
gone, every inconvenient voice was hushed and stifled. Then Arno Raven
rapidly acquired influence, became the friend and favourite of the
Minister, whom he was shortly to call father. Later on, as Baron von
Raven, he was the most powerful stay and support of the Government, to
whom he had become indispensable. No accusation against such a man
would have been admitted; it would at once have been stigmatised as a
lie, a calumnious lie, and suppressed as such. We all knew this, and
the knowledge kept the others silent, I was not withheld by these
considerations alone. I ... had no desire to accuse you, and have none
now. Some admissions made by me during my confinement--admissions which
were, I fear, purposely extracted from me--may have served as a basis
for the present revelations. The Superintendent of Police has certainly
had to do with the business. He is your enemy."
"No, he is simply a spy," said Raven, contemptuously; "and, therefore,
I do not think of calling him to account. It was no duty of his,
moreover, to keep back information which you had communicated to him.
The information came from you, and to you I look for satisfaction."
Brunnow started back. "Satisfaction? From me? What do you mean?"
"What can I mean? It seems to me no explanation is necessary. There is
but one way of wiping out an insult such as you have offered me. You
will not refuse me this atonement, I suppose?"
Not a syllable escaped the Doctor's lips.
"On our first meeting after a lapse of years," pursued the other, "you
spoke to me words which made my blood boil in my veins. You were then a
proscribed man, who had hastened to his son's sick-bed; every hour you
spent here was fraught with danger. That was no fitting moment to
demand an explanation. Now you are free--so name your time and arms."
"A duel between us!" exclaimed Brunnow. "No, Arno, you cannot exact
this!"
"I insist on it. You will accept my challenge?"
"No."
"Rudolph, I tell you, you will accept it."
"And, once again, I say no. Any other man I will fight, if necessary,
but not you."
A deep furrow gathered between the Baron's knitted brows; but he knew
this friend of his youth, knew that, in spite of those grey hairs, the
man before him was still the old Hotspur whose fiery temper, once
thoroughly aroused, would silence reflection and overleap all bounds.
All that was needed was to find the vulnerable spot.
"I did not think you had turned coward since we parted," said Raven,
with simulated scorn.
That told. The Doctor started up in anger, and his eye sparkled
ominously.
"Unsay that word!" he cried. "You know well that I am no coward. I have
no need to prove that to you now."
"I unsay nothing," declared Raven. "You have brought a disgraceful
charge against me, have repeated it in the presence of a stranger, who,
as you were well aware, would give it publicity, and now you seek to
escape the consequences of your act. Call it what you like--I call it
cowardice."
Brunnow's self-command went from him altogether, as the fateful word
was thus hurled at him a second time.
"Stop, Arno," he panted; "I will not bear this."
The Baron remained quite unmoved. Not a muscle of his face quivered. He
stood, inflexible in his icy calm, goading his adversary on, step by
step, to the requisite pitch of madness.
"This, then, is your revenge?" he continued, in a contemptuous tone.
"For twenty years you have stayed your hand. While I was great and
powerful, you did not venture to strike; but a man nearing his fall is
a safer, an easier target. Winterfeld, at least, was an honourable foe.
He attacked me, certainly, but it was in open combat; he met me face to
face. You prefer to shoot from under ambush, calling strangers to help
you in the work. You had no hesitation in supplying the police and the
newspapers with weapons against me, but when it comes to facing me and
the arm which shall avenge the dishonour done me, your courage fails
you. Verily, Rudolph, I should not have believed you capable of such
mean and pitiful conduct!"
"Enough!" Brunnow interposed, in a half-stifled voice. "Not a word
more--I accept your challenge." His breast heaved with a quick
convulsive movement. He had grown deadly pale, and his whole frame
shook with emotion. He leaned for support against the back of the chair
nearest him. Something like compassion gleamed in the Baron's eye, pity
for the man he had wrought up to such extreme agitation, before whom he
had placed so terrible an alternative; but there was no trace of any
such weakness in his voice, as he replied:
"Good. I will request Colonel Wilten, the commandant of the garrison
here, to act as my second. He will arrange the necessary preliminaries
with any gentleman you may name as yours."
Brunnow merely bowed his head in assent. The Baron took his hat from
the table, and then went up to the Doctor again.
"One thing more, Rudolph," he said, slowly. "This is to me a matter of
deadly earnest. As you will feel, seeing the injury you have done me,
this duel must be to the death between us. I shall expect that it be
not turned into a comedy. It might seem good to you to fire in the air.
Do not compel me to repeat before our seconds that which I have said to
you here. I give you my word I shall take that course, should your aim
be purposely misdirected."
Brunnow drew himself up, and his eyes blazed with fierce, passionate
hatred.
"Do not fear," he said. "The words you have spoken to-day have been as
the death-knell to our past. Any lingering reminiscences of youth are
buried from henceforth. You are right. A duel between us two must be to
the death. I, too, know how to avenge an imputation on my honour."
"To-morrow, then, we meet. I will go now and seek the Colonel."
He drew back the bolt from the door, and left the room, drawing a deep,
deep breath, as though a load had fallen from him. Then, with a rapid,
steady step, he walked away in the direction of Colonel Wilten's house.