AT MUNICH
When we started for Munich it required very little observation to see
that von Nauheim was striving sedulously to conceal the fact that he
attached such critical importance to my accompanying him. Indeed, had I
had no prior knowledge of him, I think his demeanor would have roused my
suspicions.
"I suppose you will tell me what passed between you and Minna
yesterday," he said when we were in the train. "You've produced a
considerable change in her, for I found her much more willing to go on
with us than she was before."
"I gave her to understand that very much must depend on the result of
this journey. If I am satisfied that there is reason to hope for
success, it will be at least an impartial opinion--for at present I have
not much faith. And I suppose she attaches a great deal of importance to
that."
"Did you urge her not to throw us over? I presume you did."
"Why should I? I am not convinced myself."
"Well, here are signs enough of the popular indignation, at any rate,"
he said as he tossed me a morning paper with some very strong comments
on the lunatic King's acts.
"Discontent is one thing, rebellion another," I replied as I opened the
paper to read what he pointed out. I had no wish to talk, but to think,
and I made as though I were engrossed in the paper.
My companion took another journal and played at reading it; but I saw
him watching me every now and then, until the paper fell on his lap, and
he stared out of the window obviously buried in his thoughts. I knew the
tenor of them later when his face changed, and he turned to speak.
"You will stay with me, of course, Prince?" he said.
"Certainly," I replied readily, although half a hundred suspicions were
started of his probably sinister motive for the invitation.
"It will be so much more convenient for our purpose than your going to
the Gramberg town-house," he said. "I've been thinking of the best
course to take. What sort of proof do you wish to have that measures are
ripe?"
"An interview with those who are to carry them out, of course."
"That will be best; and fortunately most of them are in Munich. Then I
presume you will be prepared to do what all the rest of us have
done--take an oath of allegiance to the new Queen?"
"When I join you, I will do whatever the rest do."
"We are all pledged to the hilt. Every man of us has made the oath and
signed a declaration to uphold the good cause."
"Signed a declaration? That seems a strong step," I said, though all
forms were pretty much the same thing to me.
"But a necessary one. There is no drawing back then," he answered.
"Well, I will sign what I see others sign and do what others do," I
replied firmly. "But, understand, I must see these things done before my
eyes." I said this because of an idea that flashed into my thoughts at
that moment.
"You are disposed to be cautious to the verge of timidity, eh?" he
sneered.
"I am resolved to satisfy myself," I returned; and for a reason that I
kept to myself I rather liked the idea of what he had said.
After a pause he continued:
"Roughly, what I propose is this: I will take you round to introduce you
to the more prominent men--in particular to Baron Heckscher, who is
really the leader of us; and then we will have a meeting at my rooms,
where everything can be explained and settled. What say you?"
"I agree; but of course I reserve my right to take any other step I may
think necessary that suggests itself to me."
"Naturally, naturally!" he exclaimed. "Now that the Prince has gone we
are only too glad to have a cautious, calculating head to take his
part."
The words were as false as the man. I read it in his tone and manner;
and he was far more ready to curse me, had he dared, for my profession
of caution. But I pressed it, because I knew that this exaggerated
carefulness was the best evidence of my seeming sincerity.
A long silence followed, during which I weighed carefully all he had
said. His manner in speaking of these details was tinged by a singular
nervousness; he blurted out his points like a man who has been given a
task which has overweighted him. And he suggested to me the condition of
a poor actor who has had his part drilled into him by a subtler hand,
and says his lesson badly.
Presently he began again:
"Of course you'll understand we are all putting ourselves into your
hands and in your power in this matter; and the more so with every
additional step we take." He was coming to another point in his lesson,
I thought. "You will give me your solemn pledge not to divulge a single
name you hear, nor a single fact that is told to you. If you'll do that
now, I'll give you an outline of our plans at once."
"You can tell me as much or as little as you please. I pledge my honor
to use nothing, except as the interest of my cousin may require--and
that, I presume, is the intention of all concerned."
He frowned and bit his lips and thought a moment.
"Of course that's the intention; what else could it be?"
"Then if you want me to join you you must trust me; otherwise I may as
well go back to Gramberg at once. But, of course, my return will be the
signal for throwing the whole thing up at once. It is for you to
choose."
"I had better tell you," he said after another pause. "Things are nearly
ripe; almost as forward as when that hot-headed fellow Gustav wrecked
everything by losing his temper and getting involved in that duel. We
have resolved to take up the Prince's scheme pretty much where it was
dropped. In a fortnight's time there will be an excellent time for
striking the final blow. We have friends in all the public offices;
several of the Ministers themselves are ready to welcome the change; the
whole bodyguard of the King at the palace is practically composed of our
men; and everything promises success. The King will be at the palace,
and we have arranged that a great fancy-dress ball shall be given on a
certain night. His lunatic Majesty is, as perhaps you know, rather
madder on that subject than on any other; and he delights in dressing
himself up in half a dozen different costumes in the course of a single
night to perplex, as he thinks, all who are present, and get at the real
sentiments of his people about him. But his attendants always arrange
that his costume shall bear a certain mark by which he will be known. In
this way the ass of a King is fooled to the top of his bent, and instead
of hearing genuine opinions about himself hears only those which are
carefully tuned for his ears. Well, our scheme is to have this royal
mark worn by some one who is not the King; to have the King himself
seized and placed under restraint; to let Minna be at hand at the ball,
and as soon as it is known that the King has gone to proclaim her there
and then."
"An ingenious scheme, so far as the easy part of abducting the King is
concerned," I replied. "But the difficulties only begin when he is out
of the way. What are you going to do with him--kill him?"
"No, there will be no bloodshed. There is no need. The whole country is
ready for the abdication; nine-tenths of the best men are on our
side--and the other tenth will come in; and to give the thing
plausibility we are going to have a sort of drama at the ball, in which
the King--the sham one, of course--will announce his abdication and
appoint his successor--Minna. That act of abdication will be written,
and on examination will be found to be actually in the handwriting of
the King himself. The whole scene will be described to the country as an
actual occurrence; and this will be on the authority of the foremost
men in Bavaria--a sort of informal Council of State. It will be a
definite and formal abdication. That of itself will silence opposition
and carry the people, who are, indeed, only too eager to need much
argument."
"And the King himself?"
"He will simply be put where he ought to have been long enough
ago--under restraint."
It was a clever plot, and, given the power behind those carrying it out,
as likely to be successful as any that human wit could have devised.
"But what of the Ostenburg interest?" I rapped out the question sharply,
with a keen, quick glance, and for a moment it seemed to disconcert him
slightly.
"We do not put their power very high," he said then. "They think our
chances ended with Gustav's death, and that, now the old Prince has
gone, there is no one to carry the thing a step farther. But we must, of
course, lose no time, and must strike before they even think we are
contemplating any action at all. We shall catch them utterly unprepared;
and, in a thing of this kind, to be unprepared is to lose."
"Do you mean you think they will surrender their claim to the throne
without a struggle of any sort?"
"No; but they can do nothing when once we are in possession."
"But the Imperial authorities at Berlin, man?"
"The one consideration there is the _de facto_ argument. Let us get
possession, backed by formal abdication and the actual document
appointing Minna to the succession, and Berlin may do what it likes.
They will think twice before risking a civil war in the country to
maintain the rights of a lunatic. At least so longer heads than mine
hold, and I agree with them."
"Well, I shall see," and I was bound to confess to myself that, if
everything was genuine, the inference he drew was right. I knew enough
of the sort of argument that weighs at Berlin to be sure of this.
But was it genuine? If not, where was the flaw? And all the rest of the
journey I sat pondering this part of the problem, and reviewing again
and again all he had said.
I was much impressed by it.
Two points in particular stood out boldly in my thoughts: If this plot
could be carried through--and I was half inclined to believe it
possible--Minna could make far better terms, if she still wished to
recede, when success had been attained than she could at present. If
there were at the back of the scheme all this influence of which von
Nauheim had spoken, it would be a dangerous thing for her to throw over
those who had supported her without securing, at least, their safety as
well as her own. That would be dishonorable and cowardly, and I knew she
would not consent to such a course. If these representations were
correct, therefore, I began to fear that Minna had been too far pledged
to be able to draw back at this juncture. We must go forward until the
best terms could be made.
But against this I knew that the man who was giving me the information
was as false as hell itself; and, even while I sat meditating and
brooding over what he had said, I caught the swift, searching, cunning
glances which he darted every now and then at me as if to see how far he
had fooled me.
It was in this mood of fresh doubt that I arrived at Munich, and drove
with him to his rooms. The sumptuous comfort and costly appointments of
these surprised me. When I had known him years before, he had had but
scanty means, and his family were comparatively poor. Yet these rooms of
his were fit for a man of the largest fortune. Even this circumstance
added to my suspicions. If he was a traitor, he was being well paid for
his treachery.
The journey with me in the train and the fact that he was now in his own
house seemed to put him more at his ease.
"I shall have to leave you for a considerable time, Prince, while I
prepare our friends for your visits," he said; "but you will of course
consider this quite as your own house. This evening, or probably
to-morrow, we can get to work. In the mean time, if you do not already
know Munich, you will find no lack of interesting sights."
For the rest of that day I was left to my own devices, and we did not
meet until late in the evening, when he told me his plans for the next
day, and that he had arranged for a round of interviews with the leading
men on our side.
The result of them was only to increase my perplexity. Wherever I went I
was welcomed cordially, my co-operation requested, my caution approved,
and the most complete assurances given to me on all points. Had the
success of the scheme depended entirely upon my joining in it, I could
not have been more warmly welcomed.
I could not understand it in the least. Every question I asked was
answered, as it seemed, quite fully and frankly; and every investigation
I made only convinced me that the ramifications of the plot were vastly
wider than I imagined, and that the prospects of success were enough to
force me to believe in it.
And yet I could not shake off my suspicions. I could find no ground for
them other than my knowledge of von Nauheim. There was nothing but that
to warrant them. But the more closely I watched him the more uneasy I
became, and the more convinced that he at least had some double motive.
I was in the position of a man who is being persuaded to a course he
dislikes against every prejudice and instinct of his nature, and despite
his earnest desire to trust his instinct. I did not wish to find the
affair genuine, but I could find no flaw anywhere, probe, search,
suspect, and investigate as I would.
At the end of the fourth day I could not deny they had a right to ask
for a definite decision for me to throw in my lot with them, and, while
I was dead against doing so, I could not suggest a single reason of
value and force for my opinion. The meeting to receive my decision was
fixed for the sixth evening, and I looked forward to it with
considerable apprehension.
The previous day I resolved to use for a purpose that was almost as
critical as the object of the visit to Munich. It was an inquiry that I
alone could make as to von Nauheim's past.
I knew that in the days when he had dealt his dastardly injury on my
family he had a wife, whom he had married secretly, living in Thuringia.
I was almost alone in the knowledge, which I had gained by accident, and
my purpose now was to ascertain if she was still alive.
Fortune favored my investigation. The wife was still in the town, living
in a humble way as a shop-keeper, and still ignorant of the real
position and character of her husband. I had no difficulty in finding
her, and using part of my knowledge of years before. I had some
conversation with her and her two children, eliciting the fact that she
had not seen von Nauheim for years, did not know whether he was alive or
dead, and did not care. She was earning her own living and educating her
children, and prayed only that she might be troubled by the man no more.
It was not my cue to stir muddy waters. All I needed was to know where
to put my hand upon her at any moment that it might be necessary to
spoil the scoundrel's schemes.
The villain meant to deceive Minna von Gramberg as he had deceived my
sister years before, and my thoughts about him were bitter and black and
wrathful as the train whirled me back through the summer night to
Munich. But I was jubilant too; for I held the knowledge that must
inevitably frustrate his scheme, and I resolved that I would use it at
the forthcoming meeting, if no other cause suggested itself, to refuse
to go forward any farther. It was, of course, an ample reason for such
refusal; and as I had the proofs so fresh in my hands, there was not a
man of honor in the affair who would not say I was doing right. But
events were to happen destined to change all this current of my
thoughts.
When I reached Munich it was late, but a mild, soft night, and I
loitered through the deserted streets on my way to von Nauheim's house,
enjoying the walk. I had to pass through one of the outlying parts of
the city, and I was walking very slowly, thinking and smoking, when I
was startled by a loud and sudden cry for help that came from some
distance ahead of me. I am a swift runner, and I set off at my fastest
pace, the cry, which was repeated, being my guide. I passed two or three
streets, crossed a broad, dark square, and then I heard the cry for the
third time, and with it the sound of men struggling and fighting, and
the clash of steel. I had no weapon with me save a stout oak stick; but
I gave no thought to my own danger as I rushed on, and set up an
answering shout to let it be known that I was at hand. As I reached the
other side of the square I came suddenly in full view of the
disturbance.
Four men, two armed with swords and two having knives, were attacking
one man, who, with his back to the wall, was fighting for his life like
a demon, parrying, lunging, and thrusting with amazing dexterity and
skill. He had been wounded, however, I could tell, and although he had
wounded more than one of his assailants, he was in a very fair way of
coming badly out of the fight.
Fired by the infernal cowardice of the four men in setting on one, I let
out an oath, and, grasping my stick with both hands, I clenched my
teeth, and rushed upon the villains from behind. I brought the heavy
knob of my stick down with crushing force upon the arm of the man
nearest me, making the arm drop nerveless by his side, and sending his
sword clattering down on the stones; and then I turned and smashed it
with all my force right into the face of a second man who made as if to
attack me. At the same instant he who had been assailed in the first
instance drove his sword through a third; and, seeing this unexpected
turn given to matters, the fourth ran away--an example which the rest
followed.
[Illustration: GRASPING MY STICK WITH BOTH HANDS, I CLENCHED MY TEETH,
AND RUSHED UPON THE VILLAINS FROM BEHIND.]
"You came in the nick of time, friend," said the man coolly, coming
toward me. "Another two minutes or so and these beasts would have
done----What! Heinrich Fischer!" he cried, in a tone of the greatest
astonishment, holding out his hand. "This is well met indeed."
I did not think so; for it was with something akin to dismay that I
recognized a French fencing-master, named Guion, with none too savory a
reputation, from whom, in the days of my play-acting, I had lessons in
stage fencing. I gave him my hand, but I could not make the clasp
cordial.
"How came you in this plight, M. Guion?"
He laughed.
"Guion? Was that my name then? French, I suppose. By the body of the
devil, I have such a lot of names and countries I can't remember them
all. But I only use one at a time, and now, my good sir, I am a
Corsican, and my name is Praga--Juan Praga, at your service, and not
ashamed to own that I owe you my life. But what's the matter with you?"
"Praga!" I cried. "So it's you, is it, who fought the young Count von
Gramberg and killed him?"
"Ho, and what in the name of the devil's skin do you know about that?
But it's true, and it's equally true that to-night's business is part of
the result. But, by the blood!"--and his face snarled like an angry
dog's--"I'll make them pay."
"I can help you to your revenge," I said impulsively. "Let's go where we
can be alone."
He stared at me as if in the greatest astonishment, then shrugged his
shoulders, laughed, swore copiously, and then laughed again and said:
"You? Well, you've saved my life, so it's only fair you should do what
you please with it. Come along with me."
And he led me away, vowing and protesting, by all the saints in and out
of the calendar, that all he had in the world, whether purse, sword, or
life itself, was at my absolute disposal.