So anxious was I not to run any risk of being asleep at the time we had
arranged to make our escape that I did not go to bed at all, but seated
myself in an armchair and endeavoured to interest myself in a book until
the fateful hour arrived. Then, leaving a note upon my dressing-table,
in which was contained a sufficient sum to reimburse the landlord for my
stay with him, I slipped into one pocket the few articles I had resolved
to carry with me, and taking care that my money was safely stowed away
in another, I said good-bye to my room and went softly down the stairs
to the large hall. Fortune favoured me, for only one servant was at work
there, an elderly man with a stolid, good-humoured countenance, who
glanced up at me, and, being satisfied as to my respectability,
continued his work once more. Of Valerie I could see no sign, and since
I did not know where her room was situated I occupied myself, while I
waited, wondering what I should do if she had overslept herself and did
not put in an appearance until too late. In order to excuse my presence
downstairs at such an early hour, I asked the man in which direction the
cathedral lay, and whether he could inform me at what time early mass
was celebrated.
He had scarcely instructed me on the former point and declared his
ignorance of the latter, before Valerie appeared at the head of the
stairs and descended to meet me, carrying her violin case in her hand. I
greeted her in English, and after I had slipped a couple of florins into
the servant's hand, we left the hotel together and made our way in the
direction of the Platz, where to my delight I found the cab I had
ordered the previous afternoon already waiting for us. We took our
places, and I gave the driver his instructions. In less than a quarter
of an hour he had brought us to the station I wanted to reach. I had
taken the tickets, and the train was carrying us away from Prague and
the man whom we devoutly hoped we should never see again as long as we
lived. Throughout the drive we had scarcely spoken a couple of dozen
words to each other, having been far too much occupied with the affairs
of the moment to think of anything but our flight. Knowing Pharos as we
did, it seemed more than probable that he might even now be aware of our
escape, and be taking measures to insure our return. But when we found
ourselves safely in the train our anxiety lessened somewhat, and with
every mile we threw behind us our spirits returned. By the time we
reached Dresden we were as happy a couple as any in Europe, and when
some hours later we stepped out of the carriage on to the platform at
Berlin, we were as unlike the pair who had left the hotel at Prague as
the proverbial chalk is like cheese. Even then, however, we were
determined to run no risk. Every mile that separated us from Pharos
meant greater security, and it was for this reason I had made up my mind
to reach the German capital, if possible, instead of remaining at
Dresden, as had been our original intention.
When our train reached its destination it was a few minutes after six
o'clock, and for the first time in my life I stood in the capital of the
German empire. Though we had been travelling for more than ten hours,
Valerie had so far shown no sign of fatigue.
"What do you propose doing now?" she inquired as we stood together on
the platform.
"Obtain some dinner," I answered, with a promptness and directness
worthy of the famous Mr. Dick.
"You must leave that to me," she said, with one of her own bright
smiles, which had been so rare of late. "Remember I am an old traveller,
and probably know Europe as well as you know Piccadilly."
"I will leave it to you then," I answered, "and surely man had never a
fairer pilot."
"On any other occasion I should warn you to beware of compliments," she
replied, patting me gaily on the arm with her hand, "but I feel so happy
now that I am compelled to excuse you. To-night, for the last time, I am
going to play the part of your hostess. After that it will be your duty
to entertain me. Let us leave by this door."
So saying, she led me from the station into the street outside, along
which we passed for some considerable distance. Eventually we reached a
restaurant, before which Valerie paused.
"The proprietor is an old friend of mine," she said, "who, though he is
acquainted with Pharos, will not, I am quite sure, tell him he has seen
us."
We entered, and when the majordomo came forward to conduct us to a
table, Valerie inquired whether his master were visible. The man stated
that he would find out, and departed on his errand.
While we waited I could not help noticing the admiring glances that were
thrown at my companion by the patrons of the restaurant, among whom
were several officers in uniform. Just, however, as I was thinking that
some of the latter would be none the worse for a little lesson in
manners, the shuffling of feet was heard, and presently, from a doorway
on the right, the fattest man I have ever seen in my life made his
appearance. He wore carpet slippers on his feet, and a red cap upon his
head, and carried in his hand a long German pipe with a china bowl. His
face was clean shaven, and a succession of chins fell one below another,
so that not an inch of his neck was visible. Having entered the room, he
paused, and when the waiter had pointed us out to him as the lady and
gentleman who had asked to see him, he approached and affected a
contortion of his anatomy which was evidently intended to be a bow.
"I am afraid, Herr Schuncke, that you do not remember me," said Valerie,
after the short pause that followed.
The man looked at her rather more closely, and a moment later was bowing
even more profusely and inelegantly than before.
"My dear young lady," he said, "I beg your pardon ten thousand times.
For the moment, I confess, I did not recognise you. Had I done so I
should not have kept you standing here so long."
Then, looking round, with rather a frightened air, he added, "But I do
not see Monsieur Pharos? Perhaps he is with you, and will be here
presently?"
"I sincerely hope not," Valerie replied. "That is the main reason of my
coming to you." Then, sinking her voice to a whisper, she added, as she
saw the man's puzzled expression, "I know I can trust you, Herr
Schuncke. The truth is, I have run away from him."
"Herr Gott!" said the old fellow. "So you have run away from him. Well,
I do not wonder at it, but you must not tell him I said so. How you
could have put up with him so long I do not know; but that is no
business of mine. But I am an old fool; while I am talking so much I
should be finding out how I can be of assistance to you."
"You will not find that very difficult," she replied. "All we are going
to trouble you for is some dinner, and your promise to say nothing,
should Monsieur Pharos come here in search of us."
"I will do both with the utmost pleasure," he answered. "You may be sure
I will say nothing, and you shall have the very best dinner old Ludwig
can cook. What is more, you shall have it in my own private
sitting-room, where you will be undisturbed. Oh, I can assure you,
Fraeulein, it is very good to see your face again."
"It is very kind of you to say so," said Valerie, "and also to take so
much trouble. I thank you."
"You must not thank me at all," the old fellow replied. "But some day,
perhaps, you will let me hear you play again." Then, pointing to the
violin-case, which I carried in my hand, he continued, "I see you have
brought the beautiful instrument with you. Ah, Gott! what recollections
it conjures up for me. I can see old--but there, there, come with me, or
I shall be talking half the night!"
We accordingly followed him through the door by which he had entered,
and along a short passage to a room at the rear of the building. Here he
bade us make ourselves at home, while he departed to see about the
dinner. Before he did so, however, Valerie stopped him.
"Herr Schuncke," she said, "before you leave us, I want your
congratulations. Let me introduce you to Mr. Forrester, the gentleman to
whom I am about to be married."
The old fellow turned to me, and gave another of his grotesque bows.
"Sir," he said, "I congratulate you with all my heart. To hear her play
always, ah! what good fortune for a man. You will have a treasure in
your house that no money could buy. Be sure that you treat her as such."
When I had promised to do so, the warm-hearted old fellow departed on
his errand.
I must leave you to imagine the happiness of that dinner. Even now it
sends a thrill through me to think of it. I can recall the quaint little
room, so undeniably German in its furniture and decorations; the table
laden with the good things the landlord had provided for us--even to the
extent of a bottle of his own particular wine, which only saw the light
on the most important occasions; the military-looking waiter, with his
close-cropped hair and heavy eyes; and Valerie seated opposite, looking
so beautiful and so happy that I could scarcely believe she was the same
woman I had seen rising from her knees in the Teyn Kirche only the day
before.
"I hope all this travelling has not tired you, dearest?" I said, when
the waiter had handed us our coffee and had left the room.
"You forget that I am an old traveller," she said, "and not likely to be
fatigued by such a short journey. You have some reason, however, for
asking the question. What is it?"
"I will tell you," I answered. "I have been thinking that it would not
be altogether safe for us to remain in Berlin. It is quite certain that,
as soon as he discovers that we are gone, Pharos will make inquiries,
and find out what trains left Prague in the early morning. He will then
put two and two together, after his own diabolical fashion, and as
likely as not he will be here in search of us to-morrow morning, if not
sooner."
"In that case, what do you propose doing?" she asked.
"I propose, if you are not too tired, to leave here by the express at
half-past seven," I replied, "and travel as far as Wittenberge, which
place we should reach by half-past ten. We can manage it very easily. I
will telegraph for rooms, and to-morrow morning early we can continue
our journey to Hamburg, where we shall have no difficulty in obtaining a
steamer for London. Pharos would never think of looking for us in a
small place like Wittenberge, and we should be on board the steamer and
_en route_ to England by this time to-morrow evening."
"I can be ready as soon as you like," she answered bravely, "but before
we start you must give me time to reward Herr Schuncke for his kindness
to us."
A few moments later our host entered the room. I was about to pay for
our meal, when Valerie stopped me.
"You must do nothing of the kind," she said; "remember, you are my
guest. Surely you would not deprive me of one of the greatest pleasures
I have had for a long time?"
"You shall pay with all my heart," I answered, "but not with Pharos'
money."
"I never thought of that," she replied, and her beautiful face flushed
crimson. "No, no, you are quite right. I could not entertain you with
his money. But what am I to do? I have no other."
"In that case you must permit me to be your banker," I answered, and
with that I pulled from my pocket a handful of German coins.
Herr Schuncke at first refused to take anything, but when Valerie
declared that if he did not do so she would not play to him, he
reluctantly consented, vowing at the same time that he would not accept
it himself, but would bestow it upon Ludwig. Then Valerie went to the
violin-case, which I had placed upon a side table, and taking her
precious instrument from it--the only legacy she had received from her
father--tuned it, and stood up to play. As Valerie informed me later,
the old man, though one would scarcely have imagined it from his
commonplace exterior, was a passionate devotee of the beautiful art, and
now he stood, leaning against the wall, his fat hands clasped before
him, and his upturned face expressive of the most celestial enjoyment.
Nor had Valerie, to my thinking, ever done herself greater justice. She
had escaped from a life of misery that had been to her a living death,
and her whole being was in consequence radiant with happiness; this was
reflected in her playing. Nor was the effect she produced limited to
Herr Schuncke. Under the influence of her music I found myself building
castles in the air, and upon such firm foundations, too, that for the
moment it seemed no wind would ever be strong enough to blow them down.
When she ceased I woke as from a happy dream; Schuncke uttered a long
sigh, as much as to say, "It will be many years before I shall hear
anything like that again," and then it was time to go. The landlord
accompanied us into the street and called a cab. As it pulled up beside
the pavement a cripple passed, making his way slowly along with the
assistance of a pair of crutches. Valerie stopped him.
"My poor fellow," she said, handing him the purse containing the money
with which, ten minutes before, she had thought of paying for our
dinner, "there is a little present which I hope may bring you more
happiness than it has done me. Take it."
The man did so, scarcely able to contain his surprise, and when he had
examined the contents burst into a flood of thanks.
"Hush," she said, "you must not thank me. You do not know what you are
saying." Then turning to Schuncke, she held out her hand. "Good-bye,"
she said, "and thank you for your kindness. I know that you will say
nothing about having seen us."
"You need have no fear on that score," he said. "Pharos shall hear
nothing from me, I can promise you that. Farewell, Fraeulein, and may
your life be a happy one."
I said good-bye to him, and then took my place in the vehicle beside
Valerie. A quarter of an hour later we were on our way to Wittenberge,
and Berlin, like Prague, was only a memory. Before leaving the station I
had purchased an armful of papers, illustrated and otherwise, for
Valerie's amusement. Though she professed to have no desire to read
them, but to prefer sitting by my side, holding my hand, and talking of
the happy days we hoped and trusted were before us, she found time, as
the journey progressed, to skim their contents. Seeing her do this
brought the previous evening to my remembrance, and I inquired what
further news there was of the terrible pestilence which Pharos had
declared to be raging in eastern Europe.
"I am afraid it is growing worse instead of better," she answered, when
she had consulted the paper. "The latest telegram declares that there
have been upward of a thousand fresh cases in Turkey alone within the
past twenty-four hours, that it has spread along the Black Sea as far as
Odessa, and north as far as Kiev. Five cases are reported from Vienna;
and, stay, here is a still later telegram in which it says"--she paused,
and a look of horror came into her face, "Can this be true?--it says
that the pestilence has broken out in Prague, and that the Count de
Schelyani, who, you remember, was so kind and attentive to us last night
at the palace, was seized this morning, and at the time this telegram
was despatched was lying in a critical condition."
"That is bad news indeed," I said. "Not only for Austria but also for
us."
"How for us?" she asked.
"Because it will make Pharos move out of Prague," I replied. "When he
spoke to me yesterday of the way in which this disease was gaining
ground in Europe he seemed visibly frightened, and stated that as soon
as it came too near he should at once leave the city. We have had one
exhibition of his cowardice, and you may be sure he will be off now as
fast as trains can take him. It must be our business to take care that
his direction and ours are not the same."
"But how are we to tell in which direction he will travel?" asked
Valerie, whose face had suddenly grown bloodless in its pallor.
"We must take our chance of that," I answered. "My principal hope is
that knowing, as he does, the whereabouts of the yacht he will make for
her, board her, and depart for mid-ocean to wait there until all danger
is passed. For my own part I am willing to own that I do not like the
look of things at all. I shall not feel safe until I have got you safely
into England, and that little silver streak of sea is between us and the
Continent."
"You _do_ love me, Cyril, do you not?" she inquired, slipping her little
hand into mine, and looking into my face with those eyes that seemed to
grow more beautiful with every day I looked into them. "I could not live
without your love now."
"God grant you may never be asked to do so," I answered; "I love you,
dearest, as I believe man never loved woman before, and, come what may,
nothing shall separate us. Surely even death itself could not be so
cruel. But why do you talk in this dismal strain? The miles are slipping
behind us; Pharos, let us hope, is banished from our lives for ever; we
are together, and as soon as we reach London, we shall be man and wife.
No, no, you must not be afraid, Valerie."
"I am afraid of nothing," she answered, "when I am with you. But ever
since we left Berlin I seem to have been overtaken by a fit of
melancholy which I can not throw off. I have reasoned with myself in
vain. Why I should feel like this I can not think. It is only
transitory, I am sure; so you must bear with me; to-morrow I shall be
quite myself again."
"Bear with you, do you say?" I answered. "You know that I will do so.
You have been so brave till now, that I can not let you give way just at
the moment when happiness is within your reach. Try and keep your
spirits up, my darling, for both our sakes. To-morrow, you will be on
the blue sea with the ship's head pointing for old England. And after
that--well, I told you just now what would happen then."
In spite of her promises, however, I found that in the morning my hopes
were not destined to be realized. Though she tried hard to make me
believe that the gloom had passed, it needed very little discernment
upon my part to see that the cheerfulness she affected was all assumed,
and, what made it doubly hard to bear, that it was for my sake.
Our stay at Wittenberge was not a long one. As soon as we had finished
our breakfast, we caught the 8.30 express and resumed our journey to
Hamburg, arriving there a little before midday. Throughout the journey,
Valerie had caused me considerable anxiety. Not only had her spirits
reached a lower level than they had yet attained, but her face, during
the last few hours, had grown singularly pale and drawn, and when I at
last drove her to it, she broke down completely and confessed to feeling
far from well.
"But it can not be anything serious," she cried. "I am sure it can not.
It only means that I am not such a good traveller as I thought.
Remember, we have covered a good many hundred miles in the last week,
and we have had more than our share of anxiety. As soon as we reach our
hotel in Hamburg I will go to my room and lie down. After I have had
some sleep, I have no doubt I shall be myself again."
I devoutly hoped so; but in spite of her assurance, my anxiety was in no
way diminished. Obtaining a cab, we drove at once to the Hotel
Continental, at which I had determined to stay. Here I engaged rooms as
usual for Mr. and Miss Clifford, for it was as brother and sister we had
decided to pass until we should reach England and be made man and wife.
It was just luncheon-time when we arrived there; but Valerie was so
utterly prostrated that I could not induce her to partake of anything.
She preferred, she declared, to retire to her room at once, and
believing that this would be the wisest course for her to pursue, I was
only too glad that she should do so. Accordingly, when she had left me I
partook of lunch alone, but with no zest, as may be supposed, and having
despatched it, put on my hat and made my way to the premises of the
Steamboat Company in order to inquire about a boat for England.
On arrival at the office in question it was easily seen that something
unusual had occurred. In place of the business-like hurry to which I was
accustomed, I found the clerks lolling listlessly at their desks. So far
as I could see, they had no business wherewith to occupy themselves.
Approaching the counter, I inquired when their next packet would sail
for the United Kingdom, and in return received a staggering reply.
"I am afraid, sir," said the man, "you will find considerable difficulty
in getting into England just now."
"Difficulty in getting into England?" I cried in astonishment, "and why
so, pray?"
"Surely you must have heard?" he replied, and looking me up and down as
if I were a stranger but lately arrived from the moon. The other clerks
smiled incredulously.
"I have heard nothing," I replied, a little nettled at the fellow's
behaviour. "Pray be kind enough to inform me what you mean. I am most
desirous of reaching London at once, and will thank you to be good
enough to tell me when, and at what hour, your next boat leaves?"
"We have no boat leaving," the clerk answered, this time rather more
respectfully than before. "Surely, sir, you must have heard that there
have been two cases of the plague notified in this city to-day, and more
than a hundred in Berlin; consequently, the British Government have
closed their ports to German vessels, and, as it is rumoured that the
disease has made its appearance in France, it is doubtful whether you
will get into a French port either."
"But I must reach England," I answered desperately. "My business is most
important. I do not know what I shall do if I am prevented. I must sail
to-day, or to-morrow at latest."
"In that case, sir, I am afraid it is out of my power to help you," said
the man. "We have received a cablegram from our London office this
morning advising us to despatch no more boats until we receive further
orders."
"Are you sure there is no other way in which you can help me?" I asked.
"I shall be glad to pay anything in reason for the accommodation."
"It is just possible, though I must tell you, sir, I do not think it is
probable, that you might be able to induce the owner of some small craft
to run the risk of putting you across, but as far as we are concerned,
it is out of the question. Why, sir, I can tell you this, if we had a
boat running this afternoon, I could fill every berth thrice over, and
in less than half an hour. What's more, sir, I'd be one of the
passengers myself. We've been deluged with applications all day. It
looks as if everybody is being scared off the Continent by the news of
the plague. I only wish I were safe back in England myself. I was a fool
ever to have left it."
While the man was talking I had been casting about me for some way out
of my difficulty, and the news that this awful pestilence had made its
appearance in the very city in which we now were, filled me with so
great a fear that, under the influence of it, I very nearly broke down.
Pulling myself together, however, I thanked the man for his information,
and made my way into the street once more. There I paused and considered
what I should do. To delay was impossible. Even now Pharos might be
close behind me. A few hours more, and it was just possible he might
have tracked us to our hiding-place. But I soon discovered that even my
dread of Pharos was not as great as my fear of the plague, and as I have
said before, I did not fear that for myself. It was of Valerie I
thought, of the woman I loved more than all the world; whose existence
was so much to me that without her I should not have cared to go on
living. The recollection of her illness brought a thought into my mind
that was so terrible, so overwhelming, that I staggered on the pavement
and had to clutch at a tree for support.
"My God," I said to myself, "what should I do if this illness proved to
be the plague?"
The very thought of such a thing was more than I could bear. It choked,
it suffocated me, taking all the pluck out of me and making me weaker
than a little child. But it could not be true, I said, happen what might
I would not believe it. Fate, which had brought so much evil upon me
already, could not be so cruel as to frustrate all my hopes just when I
thought I had turned the corner and was in sight of peace once more.
What the passers-by must have thought I do not know, nor do I care. The
dreadful thought that filled my mind was more to me than anyone else's
good opinion could possibly be. When I recovered myself I resumed my
walk to the hotel, breathing in gasps as the thought returned upon me,
and my whole body alternately flushing with hope and then numbed with
terror. More dead than alive I entered the building and climbed the
stairs to the sitting-room I had engaged. I had half hoped that on
opening the door I should find Valerie awaiting me there, but I was
disappointed. Unable to contain my anxiety any longer, I went along the
passage and knocked at the door of her room.
"Who is there?" a voice that I scarcely recognised asked in German.
"It is I," I replied. "Are you feeling better?"
"Yes, better," she answered, still in the same hard tone, "but I think I
would prefer to lie here a little longer. Do not be anxious about me, I
shall be quite myself again by dinner time."
I asked if there was anything I could procure for her, and on being
informed to the contrary, left her and went down to the manager's office
in the hope that I might be able to discover from him some way in which
we might escape to our own country.
"You have reached Hamburg at a most unfortunate time," he answered. "As
you are doubtless aware, the plague has broken out here, and Heaven
alone knows what we shall do if it continues. I have seen one of the
councillors within the last hour, and he tells me that three fresh cases
have been notified since midday. The evening telegrams report that more
than five thousand deaths have already occurred in Turkey and Russia
alone. It is raging in Vienna, and indeed through the whole of Austria.
In Dresden and Berlin it has also commenced its dreadful work, while
three cases have been certified in France. So far England is free, but
how long she will continue to be so it is impossible to say. That they
are growing anxious there is evident from the stringency of the
quarantine regulations they are passing. No vessel from any infected
country, they do not limit it even to ports, is allowed to land either
passengers or cargo until after three weeks' quarantine, so that
communication with the Continent is practically cut off. The situation
is growing extremely critical, and every twenty-four hours promises to
make it more so."
"In that case I do not know what I shall do," I said, feeling as if my
heart would break under the load it was compelled to carry.
"I am extremely sorry for you, sir," the manager answered, "but what is
bad for you is even worse for us. You simply want to get back to your
home. We have home, nay, even life itself at stake."
"It is bad for everyone alike," I answered, and then, with a heart even
heavier than it was before, I thanked him for his courtesy and made my
way upstairs to our sitting-room once more. I opened the door and walked
in, and then uttered a cry of delight, for Valerie was at the farther
end of the room, standing before the window. My pleasure, however, was
short lived, for on hearing my step she turned, and I was able to see
her face. What I saw there almost brought my heart into my mouth.
"Valerie," I cried, "what has happened? Are you worse that you look at
me like that?"
"Hush!" she whispered, "do not speak so loud. Can not you see that
Pharos is coming?"
Her beautiful eyes were open to their widest extent, and there was an
air about her that spoke of an impending tragedy.
"Pharos is coming," she said again, this time very slowly and
deliberately. "It is too late for us to escape. He is driving down the
street."
There was a long pause, during which I felt as if I were being slowly
turned to stone.
"He has entered the hotel."
There was another pause.
"He is here." And as she spoke the handle of the door was turned.
As the person, whoever he might be, entered, Valerie uttered a little
cry and fell senseless into my arms. I held her tightly and then wheeled
round to see who the intruder might be.
_It was Pharos!_