CAPITULATION
It was early next morning when Saunders knocked at Mark Griffin's door.
His knock was soft, for Mark's room adjoined Father Murray's. When
Mark rose to let him in, the detective entered on tiptoe.
"I came down to see you early," he said, "because I wanted to dodge the
Padre, and I thought perhaps he'd be over in the church for his Mass."
"A good Yankee guess," said Mark. "I heard him leave a few minutes
ago, so you can talk as loud as you like. What is the matter?
Anything gone wrong?"
"It's just this," said the detective. "We must make our attempt to get
Miss Atheson without the Padre's knowing anything about it. I have
been thinking about the thing, and I have a plan I believe will work.
It's out of the question to get that guard off the watch in any
ordinary way. If we attempt it, the house will be alarmed and we shall
be taken for burglars."
"What difference if we are?" said Mark, very warmly. "If the Ministry
can stand publicity, we can. I am in favor of taking strong measures
right now."
"Not on your life, Griffin. Not on your life," said Saunders. "You
don't seem to realize that the Padre cannot stand strong measures.
Arrest as burglars would mean publicity, and there would be all sorts
of fierce stories in the press. He is a priest--and then some."
"Well, what of it?"
"Sure, I know," soothed Saunders. "But the papers aren't in the
journalistic game for dignity, and they'd play the Padre up for all he
was worth; the more yellow the story, the better. The lady must be
gotten out of the Ministry quietly. Once we have her, it will be up to
the Ministry to make the next move. I have a hunch that His Excellency
won't make it."
"Well," said Mark grudgingly, "I suppose the quiet way is the better
way. What is your plan? Why not let Father Murray know?"
"I can't let him know, because he'd want to be in on it. At all risks,
he's got to be kept out. What I propose to do is to start up such a
trouble in the rear of the house that, for five minutes at least,
there'll be no guard in the front."
"You would have to set it on fire to do that."
Saunders put his finger impressively upon a button of Mark's pajamas.
"You've guessed it, first shot out of the box. That's just what I'm
going to do. Rather, that's what _we're_ going to do."
Mark looked at him in solemn silence.
"Saunders, what did you have to put you in this condition?"
"Plain water and a cold bath," answered Saunders promptly.
"Then perhaps you'll explain."
"It'll be easy. They can put the fire out after the lady has gotten
away. The Minister is going to dinner to-night. Madame Minister--or
whatever you call her--will be with him; so will his flock of girls,
and so, of course, will His Excellency's secretary. The rest of his
staff don't live there. I figure that the guards, and the servants,
and Miss Atheson will be the only ones in the house. The fire will
bring all but Miss Atheson to the back. A rope ladder skillfully
thrown will do the rest. Now you see why I can't mix the Padre up in
that. We may be arrested, though I don't think we shall. The Minister
doesn't want anything of that kind. This morning I'll flash the night
escape signal to Miss Atheson. She'll be ready to leave, and you may
be sure she'll find a way to warn us if the guard is still around.
To-night you make an excuse to the Padre and slip away. He's going to
see a friend anyhow at the University out in Brookland. I heard him
say so. Tell him not to worry if you happen to be out when he comes
back. Fix it up any way you like, and we'll make the play and win."
"Who's to do the 'skillful throwing' of the ladder?"
"A friend of mine who used to be a fireman."
"Do you think you can get him?"
"I've engaged him already."
"H-m." Mark stared at the detective, then burst forth with, "What time
did you get up?"
"I didn't have to get up. I haven't gone to bed yet."
Mark sat down in his chair to think. After a while he put out his hand
to the detective.
"I believe you've got it, Saunders. I'll do it--but you'd better get
some rest"
"Me for my little trundle bed." And Saunders, in high spirits, waved
his hand as he went out the door.
Left alone, Mark proceeded to dress, but awaited Father Murray's return
before going down to breakfast. The time seemed long after breakfast,
but at length the priest prepared to leave the hotel.
Mark spoke nonchalantly. "Oh, Father, I'm going out in the country
with some friends, and may not get back till quite late to-night."
"All right, Mark. I hope you have a pleasant trip."
It was so easy that Mark felt a trifle worried. His device was crude,
and the priest had never before been so easily deceived.
It was midnight when a big automobile containing Saunders, his
ex-fireman friend and Mark, drew up cautiously on a side street near
the Ministry. The men at first walked quietly past the house. They
saw a light in the apartment occupied by Ruth, but there seemed to be
no other light within. They then walked around the block, passing a
policeman at the corner, and entered the alley behind the Ministry on
the other side, out of the bluecoat's sight. There was no one in the
back yard, and Saunders easily effected an entrance into the garage,
which was not far from the house. Taking from his pocket an ordinary
hot-water bag, he knocked the lock off the gasoline tank and proceeded
to fill the bag with gasoline. Then he turned to Mark.
"That's all back here for you. Leave the rear work to me. Go around,
you two, and get the ladder. In fifteen minutes I'll have a fire at
the back door. You'll probably see the light. As soon as you hear
cries from the house, listen well and you'll know whether or not the
guard has rushed back. The big door-window on the balcony is always
left open so that the guard can command the window of Miss Atheson's
room, and you can easily hear him open and close the inside door. If
he doesn't leave, the game's up. As soon as you are sure he's gone,
throw up the ladder. If you get Miss Atheson, don't wait for me. Rush
her to the automobile and back to the hotel. I'll take care of myself.
Now go on, and wait for the big noise."
The three men moved toward the door, but fell back when they saw a dark
figure plainly outlined against the dim light behind him. Saunders
said something under his breath. The ex-fireman turned pale, for he
thought it was a policeman.
"The country is beautiful in the autumn, isn't it, Mark?"
Mark was as embarrassed as any small boy caught in truancy.
"I thought you took things rather quietly, Father--I might have known
it was too good to be true. What did you come here for? You surely
knew it was something we could not have you concerned in."
The priest laughed at Mark's rueful tone.
"You should have known better, Mark, than to think I could be so easily
deceived. I am going to be mixed up in anything that concerns the
welfare of Ruth. Besides," he added, with another quiet laugh, "I
heard everything you two said this morning. I saw Saunders coming down
the hall as I was leaving, and, as it was rather early for a casual
visit, I came back to see what he was up to."
"Then why in--I beg your pardon, Father--why in all common sense,"
blurted out Saunders, "did you come here? You can't help, and we are
taking the only possible way."
"Happily," rejoined Father Murray, "it is not the only way. Come out
of this, and I will tell you something you will be very glad to hear.
Let us get back to your automobile. We must not go very far away, for
we have yet to call at the Ministry, when His Excellency returns."
"To-night?"
"This morning," gently corrected the priest. It was now well on toward
one o'clock.
The three men obeyed him. The ex-fireman got into the automobile,
while Mark and Saunders walked with Father Murray a short distance off.
When they were out of earshot, the priest turned to his companions.
"You two have been working your own plans while I have been working
mine. When you had finished your little secret conference, I went to
St. Patrick's and said Mass. When I returned to the hotel, Mark didn't
seem to appreciate my company, so I left rather early. Before going to
Brookland, I called at the State Department. Happily, I know someone
quite high up, so I had no trouble. I told him the whole story, and he
promised to help me. A few hours ago he sent for me again and--" the
priest smiled at his hearers' evident anxiety to hear the details--"and
everything will be all right now. We are to see the Minister as soon
as he returns from the banquet. He will probably be back by one
o'clock, and he will listen--and listen well--to what I have to say.
The guard will be off before we leave, and Ruth will be at the hotel
before noon."
"But, Father," said Mark, "how can you do it? The State Department
cannot get into this thing officially--cannot interfere at all. It is
too delicate. To-morrow morning Ruth will be on her way to the
seacoast, as sure as fate. She will be kept hidden there until that
warship comes."
"The warship will not come," answered Father Murray. "His Majesty's
warships will be engaged very busily for some time to come. My
information--information which so far has not leaked out to the
public--is that the Big Kingdom is on the verge of war. There will be
no warship flying that flag on this side of the water for a long time."
"War!" said Saunders. "But how does that help us?"
Before Father Murray could reply, an automobile passed swiftly.
"That is the Minister," remarked Saunders.
The priest looked up. "We must hurry. Leave everything to me."
Walking hastily, the trio approached the Minister, who had stopped at
the curb to give some order to his chauffeur. The ladies of the party
had already entered the house, accompanied by the secretary.
It was Father Murray who spoke.
"Pardon us, Your Excellency, for intruding on you at this hour, but it
is necessary that we should speak to you at once. With your
permission, we will go inside."
The Minister looked disturbed.
"Surely you know the hopelessness of it? I must warn you that you can
secure nothing through violence. My guard would not hesitate to take
forcible measures."
"There is no need to worry about that, Your Excellency," replied the
priest. "No need at all. We shall not resort to violence. It will
not be necessary. But the matter is important, and we must speak to
you at once."
The words were spoken sharply. His Excellency hesitated for a moment
longer, then threw out his hand and motioned them toward the house.
"Very well, gentlemen. Come."
The unwelcome guests were shown into the drawing-room and the lights
switched on. His Excellency put his hat aside and turned to face his
callers.
"It is already late, gentlemen, and I will ask you to be as brief as
possible. What is it you wish?"
"We shall not detain you any longer than is absolutely necessary," said
Father Murray. "Yesterday I received a visit from your secretary, who
informed me that the probabilities were so strong that it was my niece
who had been killed in the railroad accident that you would be obliged
to decide against my claims for the present."
"That is exactly the case," replied His Excellency. "Permit me to say,
Reverend Sir, that I can do nothing else. The Grand Duke is dead, and
His Majesty has taken charge of the matter. The Grand Duchess is a
ruler herself, at the present time. It is true she is only a foolish
girl, who ran away to marry a nonentity--but affairs of state are
greater than affairs of the heart. At all risks she must return to
Ecknor. I must be certain of her identity before I can make another
move. I appreciate the delicacy of the situation. I know that I have
practically kidnaped the girl. But I am certain your State Department
will want no trouble about it, nor will mine. If you are right, and
the girl is your niece, you have no cause to fear for her; she will be
returned to this country at once. If, on the contrary, she is the
Grand Duchess, there is no reason why you should seek to have her taken
away from us."
"Her own wishes--" began Saunders.
"Pardon me, sir. Her own wishes have nothing to do with the matter. I
confess that it is embarrassing that she does not want to go, but it is
more embarrassing that she ever went away. She must return to her
country, wishes or no wishes. I will consider nothing else. I have my
orders, and I shall obey them." The Minister turned toward the door,
evidently desirous that his visitors should leave. "I will ask you to
excuse me now, gentlemen."
But matters had not been arranged to Father Murray's satisfaction. He
made no move to go, and looked straight into His Excellency's face as
he spoke.
"Your Excellency has of course been informed of the critical condition
of affairs in Europe?"
"I do not understand."
Though somewhat surprised, the priest could not doubt the sincerity of
the speaker. He hesitated but a moment, then spoke quietly.
"Before the conversation proceeds farther, may I suggest that it might
be well for Your Excellency to see if there are any late dispatches
from your home government?" Noticing the Minister's haughty
astonishment, he added, "I have come from the Department of State."
The Minister was startled, and turned to leave the room. "Pardon me a
moment, gentlemen."
Mark turned to the priest. "What have you up your sleeve, Father?"
Father Murray only smiled. "I think, Mark," he said, "that you are
certainly improving in the American brand of English. 'Up your sleeve'
is decidedly good United States. You will want to stay with us--even
though you are a Baron."
Mark could get no more out of the priest.
In a few minutes His Excellency returned, his face showing signs of
extreme annoyance.
"I thank you, Reverend Sir," he said courteously. "I cannot understand
why my dispatches were not delivered to me at the banquet. I can only
express my regret." Father Murray bowed, and the Minister went on:
"The lady is probably asleep now, but I think I may safely promise that
in a few hours she will be with you. It is more than probable that I
shall relinquish all claims upon her."
Father Murray smiled and picked up his hat which was lying on a table.
"We may expect the lady before noon?"
"Yes."
"I thank Your Excellency. Permit us to bid you good morning."
With a courteous bow, Father Murray took his leave, followed by Mark
and Saunders. The last they saw of His Excellency was the top of his
head as he bowed them out.
Father Murray chuckled all the way back to the hotel--and kept his
counsel. When they arrived at his bedroom door, Mark stopped him.
"Great Heavens, Father! You're not going to leave us in the dark like
this?"
"'In the dark' is _very_ good United States, Mark."
"But what does it mean? What card did you play?"
Father Murray's hand was on the doorknob, his eyes dancing with
merriment.
"They say, Mark, that a royal flush beats everything. Well, I played
that."
Mark tried to catch him but, with a low chuckle, he slipped into the
room and closed the door.