I made no movement towards opening the gate. The newcomer advanced to
within a few feet of me, and then paused. He leaned a little forward. He
was doubtful, as I could see, of my identity.
"Can you tell me," he asked, raising his hat, "if this is Roseleys
Cottage, the residence of Mr. Arnold Greatson?"
"Do you forget all your acquaintances so quickly, Baron?" I answered.
"This is Roseleys, and I am Arnold Greatson!"
"Your voice," he declared, "is sufficient. I can assure you that it is a
matter of eyesight, not of memory. In the dark I am always as blind as a
bat."
"It is," I remarked, "a very common happening. You are motoring, I see.
You have chosen a very delightful night, but are you not--pardon me--a
little off the track? You are on your way to the South Coast, I
presume?"
"On the contrary," the Baron answered, "our destination is here. Will
you permit me to apologise for the lateness of my visit? We were
unfortunately delayed for several hours by a mishap to our automobile,
or I should have had the honour of presenting myself during the
afternoon."
I did not offer to move.
"Perhaps," I said, "as it is certainly very late, and we were on the
point of retiring, you will permit me to inquire at once into the nature
of the business which procures for me the honour of this visit."
My visitor paused. His hand was upon the gate. So was mine, keeping it
all the time fast closed.
"You will permit me?" he said, making an attempt to enter.
"I regret," I answered, "that at this late hour I am not prepared to
offer you any hospitality. If you will come and see me to-morrow morning
I shall be happy to hear what you have to say."
My visitor did not remove his hand from the gate. It seemed to me that
his tone became more belligerent.
"You are discomposed to see us, Mr. Greatson," he said, "me and my
friends. As you see," he added, with a little wave of his hand, "I am
not alone. I have only to regret that you have made this visit
necessary. We have come to induce you, if possible, to change your mind,
and to give up the young lady in whom the Archduchess has been
graciously pleased to interest herself to those who have a better claim
upon her."
"It is not a matter," I answered, "which I am prepared to discuss at
this hour--or with you!"
"As to that," the young man answered, "I am the envoy of her Royal
Highness, as I can speedily convince you if you will."
"It is unnecessary," I answered. "The Archduchess has already had my
answer. Will you allow me to wish you good-night?"
"I wish, Mr. Greatson," the young man said, "that you would discuss this
matter with me in a reasonable spirit."
"At a reasonable hour," I answered, "I might be prepared to do so. But
certainly not now."
It seemed to me that his hand upon the gate tightened. He certainly
showed no signs of accepting the dismissal which I was trying to force
upon him.
"I have endeavoured to explain my late arrival," he said. "You must not
believe me guilty of wilful discourtesy. As for the rest, Mr. Greatson,
what does it matter whether the hour is late or early? The matter is an
important one. Between ourselves, her Highness has made up her mind to
undertake the charge of the young lady, and I may tell you that when her
Highness has made up her mind to anything she is not one to be
disappointed."
"In her own country," I said, "the will of the Archduchess is doubtless
paramount. Out here, however, she must take her chance amongst the
others."
"But you have no claim--no shadow of a claim upon the child," the Baron
declared.
"If the Archduchess thinks she has a better," I answered, "the law
courts are open to her."
My visitor was apparently becoming annoyed. There were traces of
irritation in his tone.
"Do you imagine, my dear Mr. Greatson," he said, "that her Highness can
possibly desire to bring before the notice of the world the peccadiloes
of her illustrious relative? No, the law courts are not to be thought
of. We rely upon your good sense!"
"And failing that?"
The Baron hesitated. It seemed to me that he was peering into the
shadows beyond the hedge.
"The position," he murmured, "is a singular one. Where neither side for
different reasons is disposed to submit its case to the courts, then it
must be admitted that possession becomes a very important feature in the
case."
"That," I remarked, "is entirely my view. May I take the liberty, Baron
von Leibingen, of wishing you good-night? I see no advantage in
continuing this discussion."
"Possession for the moment," he said slowly, "is with you. Have you
reflected, Mr. Greatson, that it may not always be so?"
"Will you favour me," I said, "by becoming a little more explicit?"
"With pleasure," the Baron answered quickly. "I have three friends here
with me, and we are all armed. Your cottage is surrounded by half a
dozen more--friends--who are also armed. We are here to take Isobel de
Sorrens back with us, and we mean to do it. On my honour, Mr. Greatson,
no harm is intended to her. She will be as safe with the Archduchess as
with her own mother."
"If you don't take your hand off my gate in two seconds," I said, "you
will regret it all your life."
He sprang forward, but I fired over his shoulder, and with an oath he
backed into the road. Isobel meanwhile, now thoroughly alarmed, turned
and ran towards the house, only to find the path already blocked by two
men, who had stepped silently out from the low hedge which separated the
garden from the fields beyond. Allan promptly knocked one of them down,
only to find himself struggling with the other. Isobel, whose skirts
were caught by the fallen man, tried in vain to release herself. I dared
scarcely turn my head, for my levelled revolver was keeping in check the
Baron and his three friends.
"Baron," I said, "your methods savour a little too much of comic opera.
You have mistaken your country and--us. There are three of us, and if
you force us to fight--well, we shall fight. The advantage of numbers is
with you, I admit. For the rest, if you succeed to-night you will be in
the police court to-morrow."
The Baron made no answer. I felt that he was watching the struggle which
was going on behind my back. I heard Isobel shriek, and the sound
maddened me. I left it to the Baron to do his worst. I sprang backwards,
and brought the butt end of my revolver down upon the skull of the man
who was dragging her across the lawn. Then I passed my arm round her
waist, and called out once more to the Baron who had passed through the
gate, and was coming rapidly towards us.
"You fool!" I cried. "Unless you call off your hired gang and leave this
place at once, every newspaper in London shall advertise Isobel's name
and presence here to-morrow."
It was a chance shot, but it went home. I saw him stop short, and I
heard his little broken exclamation.
"But you do not know who she is?" he cried.
"I know very well indeed," I answered.
Just then Mabane broke loose from the man with whom he had been
struggling, and rushed to Arthur's assistance. The Baron raised his hand
and shouted something in German. Instantly our assailants seemed to melt
away. The Baron stepped on to the strip of lawn and raised his hand.
"I call a truce, Mr. Greatson," he said. "I desire to speak with you."
I released my hold upon Isobel and turned to Mabane. Arthur too,
breathless but unhurt, had struggled to his feet.
"Take her into the house," I said quickly. But her grasp only tightened
upon my arm.
"I will not leave you, Arnold," she said. "I shall stay here. They will
not dare to touch me."
I tried to disengage her arm, but she was persistent. She took no notice
of Allan, who tried to lead her away. I stole a glance at her through
the darkness. Her face was white, but there were no signs of fear there,
nor were there any signs of childishness in her manner or bearing. She
carried herself like an angry young princess, and her eyes seemed lit
with smouldering fire, as clinging to my arm she leaned a little
forwards toward the Baron.
"Why am I spoken of," she cried passionately, "as though I were a baby,
a thing of no account, to be carried away to your mistress or disposed
of according to your liking? Do you think that I would come, Baron von
Leibingen----"
She broke off suddenly. She leaned a little further forward. Her lips
were parted. The fire in her eyes had given way to a great wonder, and
the breathlessness of her silence was like a thing to be felt. It held
us all dumb. We waited--we scarcely knew for what. Only we knew that she
had something more to say, and we were impelled to wait for her words.
"I have seen you before," she cried, with a strange note of wonder in
her tone. "Your face comes back to me--only it was a long time ago--a
long, long time! Where was it, Baron von Leibingen?"
I heard his smothered exclamation. He drew quickly a step backwards as
though he sought to evade her searching gaze.
"You are mistaken, young lady," he said. "I know nothing of you beyond
the fact that the lady whom I have the honour to serve desires to be
your friend."
"It is not true," she answered. "I remember you--a long way back--and
the memory comes to me like an evil thought. I will not come to you. You
may kill me, but I will not come alive."
"Indeed you are mistaken," he persisted, though he sought still the
shadow of a rhododendron bush, and his voice quivered with nervous
anxiety. "You have never seen me before. Surely the Archduchess, the
daughter of a King, is not one whose proffered kindness it is well to
slight? Think again, young lady. Her Highness will make your future her
special charge!"
"If your visit to-night, sir," she answered, "is a mark of the
Archduchess's good-will to me, I can well dispense with it. I have given
you my answer."
"You will remember, Baron," I said, speaking at random, but gravely, and
as though some special meaning lurked in my words, "that this young lady
comes of a race who do not readily change. She has made her choice, and
her answer to you is my answer. She will remain with us!"
The Baron stepped out again into the rich-scented twilight.
"You hold strong cards, Mr. Arnold Greatson," he said, "but I see their
backs only. How do I know that you speak the truth? From whom have you
learnt the story of this young lady's antecedents?"
"From Mr. Grooten," I answered boldly.
"I do not know the name," the Baron protested.
"He is the man," I said, "who set Isobel free!"
The Baron said something to himself in German, which I did not
understand.
"You mean the man who shot Major Delahaye?" he asked.
"I do!"
"Then I would to Heaven I knew whose identity that name conceals," he
cried fiercely.
"You would not dare to publish it," I answered, "for to do so would be
to give Isobel's story to the world."
"And why should I shrink from that?" he asked.
I laughed.
"Ask your august mistress," I declared. "It seems to me that we know
more than you think."
The Baron looked over his shoulder and spoke to his companions. From
that moment I knew that we had conquered. One of them left and went
outside to where the motor-car, with its great flaring lights, still
stood. Then the Baron faced me once more.
"Mr. Greatson," he said, "you are playing a game of your own, and for
the moment I must admit that you hold the tricks against me. But it is
well that I should give you once more this warning. If you should decide
upon taking one false step--you perhaps know very well what I
mean--things will go ill with you--very ill indeed."
Then he turned away, and our little garden was freed from the presence
of all of them. We heard the starting of the car. Presently it glided
away. We listened to its throbbing growing fainter and fainter in the
distance. Then there was silence. A faint breeze had sprung up, and was
rustling in the shrubs. From somewhere across the moor we heard the
melancholy cry of the corncrakes. A great sob of relief broke from
Isobel's throat--then suddenly her arm grew heavy upon mine. We hurried
her into the house.