STRANGE DISAPPEARANCES
The further adventures of Mr. Hobbs on this memorable afternoon are
quickly chronicled, notwithstanding the fact that he lived an age while
they were transpiring, and experienced sensations that would still be
fresh in his memory if he lived to be a hundred.
He was scarcely well out of sight of the cabin when his conscience began
to smite him: after all, his patron might be in dire need of his
services, and here he was, fleeing from an old woman and a whiff of
smoke! Hobbs was not a physical coward, but it took more than a mile of
hard-ridden conscience to bring his horse to a standstill. Then, with
his heart in his mouth, he slowly began to retrace his steps, walking
where he had galloped a moment before. A turn in the road brought him in
view of something that caused him to draw rein sharply. A hundred yards
ahead, five or six men were struggling with a riderless bay horse.
"My Gawd!" ejaculated Hobbs. "It's _his_ horse! I might have known!"
He looked eagerly for his patron. There was no sign of him, so Hobbs
rode slowly forward, intent upon asking the woodmen--for such they
appeared to be--to accompany him to the glen, now but a short distance
ahead.
As he drew nearer, it struck him forcibly that the men were not what he
had thought them to be. They were an evil-looking lot, more like the
strikers he had seen in the town earlier in the day. Even as he was
turning the new thought over in his mind, one of them stepped out of
the little knot, and, without a word of warning, lifted his arm and
fired point blank at the little Englishman. A pistol ball whizzed close
by his head. His horse leaped to the side of the road in terror, almost
unseating him.
But Hobbs had fighting blood in his veins. What is more to the point, he
had a Mauser revolver in his pocket. He jerked it out, and, despite a
second shot from the picket, prepared to ride down upon the party. An
instant later half a dozen revolvers were blazing away at him. Hobbs
turned at once and rode in the opposite direction, whirling to fire
twice at the unfriendly group. Soon he was out of range and at leisure.
He saw the futility of any attempt to pass them. The only thing left for
him to do was to ride as quickly as possible to the city and give the
alarm: at the same time, to acquaint the police with the deliberate
assault of the desperadoes.
His mind was so full of the disaster to Truxton King--he did not doubt
for an instant that he had been destroyed by the sorceress--that he gave
little thought to his own encounter with the rascals in the roadway. He
had come to like the impetuous young man with the open purse and the
open heart. Despite his waywardness in matters conventional to the last
degree he could not but admire him for the smile he had and the courage
that never failed him, even when the smile met the frown of rebuke.
Riding swiftly through the narrow, sunless defile he was nearing the
point where the road connected with the open Highway; from there on the
way was easy and devoid of peril. Suddenly his horse swerved and leaped
furiously out of stride, stumbling, but recovering himself almost
instantaneously. In the same second he heard the sharp crack of a
firearm, far down the unbroken ravine to his left. A second shot came,
this time from the right and quite close at hand. His horse was
staggering, swaying--then down he crashed, Hobbs swinging clear barely
in time to escape being pinioned to the ground. A stream of blood was
pouring from the side of the poor beast. Aghast at this unheard of
wantonness, the little interpreter knew not which way to turn, but stood
there dazed until a third shot brought him to his senses. The bullet
kicked up the dust near his feet. He scrambled for the heavy underbrush
at the roadside and darted off into the forest, his revolver in his
hand, his heart palpitating like mad. Time and again as he fled through
the dark thickets, he heard the hoarse shouts of men in the distance. It
dawned upon him at last that there had been an uprising of some kind in
the city--that there was rioting and murder going on--that these men
were not ordinary bandits, but desperate strikers in quest of
satisfaction for grievances ignored.
Night came and he dropped to the soft, dank earth, utterly exhausted and
absolutely lost for the time being in the pathless hills.
At ten o'clock the next morning Colonel Quinnox and a company of
soldiers, riding from the city gates toward the north in response to a
call for help from honest herders who reported attacks and robberies of
an alarming nature, came upon the stiff, foot-sore, thorn-scratched Mr.
Hobbs, not far from the walls of the town. The Colonel was not long in
grasping the substance of Hobbs's revelations. He rode off at once for
the Witch's hovel, sending Hobbs with a small, instructed escort to the
Castle, where Baron Dangloss was in consultation with Mr. Tullis and
certain ministers.
The city was peaceful enough, much to the surprise of Hobbs. No
disturbance had been reported, said the guardsmen who rode beside him.
Up in the hills there had been some depredations, but that was all.
"All?" groaned Mr. Hobbs. "All? Hang it all, man, wot do you call all?
You haven't heard 'alf all of it yet. I tell you, there's been the devil
to pay. Wait till the Colonel comes back from Ganlook Gap. He'll have
news for you; take it from me, he will. That poor chap 'as gone up in
smoke, as sure as my name's Hobbs."
They met Baron Dangloss near the barracks, across the park from the
Castle. He was in close, earnest conversation with John Tullis and Count
Halfont, both of whom seemed to be labouring under intense excitement.
Over by the arsenal the little Prince, attended by his Aunt Loraine and
Count Vos Engo--with two mechanical guardsmen in the background--was
deep in conversation with Julius Spantz, the master-of-arms. If he had
been near enough to hear, he might have learned that Prince Robin's
air-gun was very much out of order and needed attention at once.
The arrival of Hobbs, a pitiful but heroic object, at once arrested the
attention of every one. His story was heard by a most distinguished
audience; in fact, Hobbs was near to exploding with his own suddenly
acquired importance. Not only were there dark, serious looks from the
men in the party, and distressed exclamations from the most beautiful
young lady in the world (he had always said that of her), but he had the
extreme unction of bringing tears to the eyes of a prince, and of
hearing manfully suppressed sobs from the throat of the same august
personage.
The looks that went round at the conclusion of his disjointed and
oft-interrupted story, expressed something more than consternation.
"There is nothing supernatural about King's disappearance," said Tullis
sharply. "That's all nonsense. He had money about him and it perhaps
turns out that there really was a man at the crack in the door--a clever
brigand who to-day has got the better of our vain-glorious friend. The
shooting in the hills is more disturbing than this, to my mind.
Gentlemen, you shouldn't lose any time in running these fellows down. It
will mean trouble if it gets under way. They're an ugly lot."
"This mystery coming on top of the other is all the more difficult to
understand. I mean the disappearance of the Countess Marlanx," said
Baron Dangloss, pulling at his imperial in plain perplexity. "But we
must not stop here talking. Will you come with me, Mr. Tullis, to the
Tower? I shall send out my best man to work on the case of the lady. It
is a most amazing thing. I still have hope that she will appear in
person to explain the affair."
"I think not," said Tullis gloomily. "This looks like abduction-foul
play, or whatever you choose to call it. She has never left her father's
house in just this manner before. I believe, Baron, that Marlanx has
taken her away by force. She told me yesterday that she would never go
back to him if she could help it. I have already given you my suspicions
regarding his designs upon the--ahem!" Catching the eager gaze of the
Prince, he changed the word "throne" to "treasury." The Baron nodded
thoughtfully. "The Countess attended the fête at Baron Pultz's last
night, leaving at twelve o'clock. I said good-night to her at the
fountain and watched her until she passed through the gate between the
Baron's grounds and those of her father adjoining. She would not permit
me to accompany her to the doors. Her maid had preceded her and was
waiting just beyond the gate--at least, so she says to-day. It is less
than two hundred feet from the gate to Perse's doorsteps. Well, she
never crossed that space. Her maid waited for an hour near the fernery
and then came to the Baron's. The Countess has not been seen since she
passed through the gate in the wall. I say that she has been carried
away."
"The maid will be at my office at eleven with the Duke of Perse and the
house servants. I have detailed a man to look up this fellow Brutus you
speak of, and to ascertain his whereabouts last night. Come, we will go
to the Tower. The Duke is greatly distressed. He suspects foul play, I
am confident, but he will not admit that Marlanx is responsible."
"But what about Mr. King?" piped up a small voice.
"Colonel Quinnox has gone to look for him, Bobby," began Tullis,
frowning slightly. He was interested in but one human being at that
moment.
"I want the old Witch beheaded," said the Prince. "Why don't you go,
Uncle Jack? He's an American. He'd help you, I bet, if you were in
danger."
Tullis flushed. Then he patted Prince Robin's shoulder and said, with no
little emotion in his voice:
"Perhaps I deserve the rebuke, Bobby, but you must not forget that there
is a lady in distress. Which would you have me do--desert the lady whom
we all love or the man whom we scarcely know?"
"The lady," said Bobby promptly. "Hasn't she got a husband to look after
her? Mr. King has no friends, no relations, nothing. Aunt Loraine likes
him and so do I."
"He's a fine chap," asserted Hobbs, and afterward marvelled at his own
temerity.
Loraine, her merry eyes now dark with anxiety, her cheeks white with
resolution, turned upon John Tullis. "You might leave the rescue of the
Countess to the proper authorities--the police," she said calmly. "I
think it is your duty as an American to head the search for Mr. King. If
Count Marlanx has spirited his wife away, pray, who has a better right?"
"But we are not sure that he--"
"We are sure that Mr. King is either dead or in dire need of help," she
interrupted hotly. He looked at her in surprise, swayed by two impulses.
"Colonel Quinnox is quite competent to conduct the search," he said
shortly.
"But Colonel Quinnox has gone forth on another mission. He may be unable
to give any of his time to the search for Mr. King. It is outrageous,
John Tullis, to refuse help--"
"I don't refuse help," he exclaimed. "They may take the whole army out
to look for him, so far as I am concerned. But, I'll tell you this--I
consider it my duty as a man to devote what strength I have to the
service of a _woman_ in trouble. That ends it! Come, Baron; we will go
to the Tower."
The amazed young woman looked at him with wide, comprehending eyes. Her
lip trembled under the rebuke. Count Halfont intervened, hastily
proposing that a second party be sent out at once with instructions to
raze the Witch's hut if necessary.
"I shall be happy to lead the expedition," said young Count Vos Engo,
bowing deeply to the young lady herself.
"You shall, Vos Engo," said Halfont. "Prepare at once. Take ten men. I
shall report to General Braze for you."
Tullis turned suddenly to the resentful girl. "Loraine," he said gently,
as the others drew away, "don't be hard with me. You don't understand."
"Yes, I do," she said stubbornly. "You are in love with her."
"Yes; that's quite true."
"A married woman!"
"I can't help it. I must do all I can for her."
She looked into his honest eyes for a moment.
"Forgive me," she murmured, hanging her head. "What is Mr. King to us,
after all?"
"He is simply paying for his foolhardiness. Americans do that the world
over."
"Be careful that you do not pay for something worse than foolhardiness."
"I think you may trust me."
She smiled brightly up into his face. "Have your way, then. Remember
that I am her friend, too." Then she hurried off after the Prince and
Vos Engo, who was already giving instructions to an attentive orderly.
"Poor Mr. King!" she said to the Prince, as they stood by watching the
preparations. "I am afraid, Bobby, he can't come to your circus this
week. I sent the invitation this morning, early. He may never receive
it. Isn't it dreadful, Count Vos Engo?"
Count Vos Engo was politely concerned, but it should not be expected
that, in his present state of mind regarding her, he could be seriously
grieved by anything that might have happened to the rash American.
The guard about the Prince was doubled: orders requiring the strictest
care of his person were issued by Count Halfont. By this time, it may be
suspected, the suspicions of John Tullis had been communicated to men
high in the government; no small amount of credence was attached to
them. Baron Dangloss began to see things in a different light; things
that had puzzled him before now seemed clear. His office was the busiest
place in Edelweiss.
"It is not unreasonable to suspect that Marlanx, or some of his agents,
having concluded that the Countess knew too much of their operations,
and might not be a safe repository, decided to remove her before it was
too late. Understand, gentlemen, I don't believe the Countess is in
sympathy with her husband's schemes--"
The Duke of Perse interrupted the doughty baron. "You assume a great
deal, Baron, in saying that he has schemes inimical to the best
interests of this country."
"I fancy that your Grace will admit that your venerable son-in-law--who,
if I mistake not, is some ten years your senior--has no great love for
the reigning power in Graustark. We will pass that, however," said the
Baron, pointedly. "We should be wise enough to guard against any move he
may make; it is imperative that we should not be caught napping."
"I don't believe he has taken my daughter away by force. Why should he
do so? She goes to him voluntarily at the end of each visit. There is no
coercion." He met John Tullis's stony gaze without flinching. "I insist
that she has been stolen by these brigands in the hills, to be held for
ransom."
The stories of the maid, the footmen, the groundmen were all to the
effect that the Countess had not returned to her father's home after
leaving the fête next door. There were no signs of a struggle in the
garden, nor had there been the slightest noise to attract the attention
of the waiting maid. It was not impossible, after all, that she had
slipped away of her own accord, possessed of a sudden whim or impulse.
The new man-servant, suspected by the Countess herself, passed through
the examination creditably. Tullis, of course, had not yet told Dangloss
of the Countess's own suspicions concerning this man. They were a part
of their joint secret. The American felt sure, however, that this man
knew more of the night's work than he had told. He conveyed this belief
to Dangloss, and a close watch was set upon the fellow. More than once
during the long afternoon John Tullis found himself wishing that he had
that dare-devil, thoroughbred young countryman of his, Truxton King,
beside him; something told him that the young man would prove a treasure
in resourcefulness and activity.
Late in the afternoon, a telegram was brought to Tullis which upset all
of their calculations and caused the minister of police to swear softly
in pure disgust. It was from the Countess Marlanx herself, sent from
Porvrak, a station far down the railway, in the direction of Vienna. It
was self-explanatory: "I am going to Schloss Marlanx, there to end my
days. There is no hope for me. I go voluntarily. Will you not understand
why I am leaving Edelweiss? You must know." It was signed "Ingomede."
Tullis was dumbfounded. He caught the penetrating glance of Dangloss and
flushed under the sudden knowledge that this shrewd old man also
understood why she was leaving Edelweiss. Because of _him!_ Because she
loved him and would not be near him. His heart swelled exultantly in the
next moment; a brave resolve was born within him.
"We don't need a key to that, my boy," said the Baron indulgently. "But
I will say that she has damned little consideration for you when she
steals away in the dead of night, without a word. In a ball dress, too.
Unfeeling, I'd say. Well, we can devote our attention to Mr. King, who
_is_ lost."
"See here, Baron," said Tullis after a moment, "I want you to give me a
couple of good men for a few days. I'm going to Schloss Marlanx. I'll
get her away from that place if I have to kill Marlanx and swing for
it."
At seven o'clock that night, accompanied by two clever secret service
men, Tullis boarded the train for the West. A man who stood in the
tobacconist's shop on the station platform smiled quietly to himself as
the train pulled out. Then he walked briskly away. It was Peter Brutus,
the lawyer.
A most alluring trap had been set for John Tullis!
The party that had gone to Ganlook Gap in charge of Count Vos Engo
returned at nightfall, no wiser than when it left the barracks at noon.
Riding bravely, but somewhat dejectedly beside the handsome young
officer in command was a girl in grey. It was her presence with the
troop that had created comment at the gates earlier in the day. No one
could understand why she was riding forth upon what looked to be a
dangerous mission. Least of all, Count Vos Engo, who had striven vainly
to dissuade her from the purpose to accompany the soldiers.
Now she was coming home with them, silent, subdued, dispirited--even
more so than she allowed the Count to see.
"I was hateful to him yesterday," she said penitently, as they rode into
the city. Vos Engo had been thinking of something else: the remark
disturbed him.
"He was very presumptuous-yesterday," he said crossly.
She transfixed him with a look meant to be reproachful.
"That's why I managed the ticket for Bobby's circus," she said, looking
ahead with a genuinely mournful droop of her lip. "I was sorry for him.
Oh, dear, oh, dear What will his poor mother say--and his sister?"
"We've done all we can, Loraine. Except to cable," he added sourly.
"Yes, I suppose so. Poor fellow!"
Colonel Quinnox and his men had been scouring the hills for bandits.
They arrived at the Witch's cabin a few minutes after Vos Engo and his
company. Disregarding the curses of the old woman, a thorough search of
the place was made. The forest, the ravine, the mountainside for a mile
or more in all directions were gone over by the searchers. There was
absolutely no sign of the missing man, nor was there the least
indication that there had been foul play.
The old woman's story, reflected by the grandson, was convincing so far
as it went. She said that the young man remained behind in the kitchen
to puzzle himself over the smoke mystery, while she went out to her
doorstep. The man with the horses became frightened when she went down
to explain the situation to him. He fled. A few minutes later the
gentleman emerged, to find his horse gone, himself deserted. Cursing, he
struck off down the glen in pursuit of his friend, and that was the last
she saw of him. Not long afterward she heard shooting in the Gap and
sent her grandson to see if anything could have happened to her late
visitor, who, it seems, owed her one hundred gavvos as a forfeit of some
sort.
The further prosecution of the search was left to Colonel Quinnox and
his men. Loraine, shuddering, but resolute, had witnessed the ransacking
of the hut, had urged the arrest of the hag, and had come away
disheartened but satisfied that the woman had told them the truth.
Quinnox's theory was accepted by all. He believed that King had fallen
into the hands of brigands and that a heavy ransom would be demanded
for his release.
In a warm-tinted room at the Castle, later on in the evening, the
Prince, in pajamas, was discoursing bravely on the idiosyncrasies of
Fate. His only auditor was the mournful Loraine, who sat beside the
royal bed in which he wriggled vaguely. The attendants were far down the
room.
"Never mind, Aunt Loraine, you can't help it. I'm just as sorry as you
are. Say, are you in love with him?"
"In love with whom?"
"Mr. King."
"Of course not, silly. What an absurd question. I do not know him at
all."
"That's all right, Aunt Loraine. I believe in love at first sight. He is
a--"
"Bobby! Don't be foolish. How could I be in love with _him_?"
"Well, you can't help it sometimes. Even princes fall in love without
knowing it."
"I suppose so," dreamily.
"It's mighty hard to make up your mind which one you love best, though.
Dr. Barrett's daughter in New York is awful nice, but I think she's--"
"She is twenty years older than you, Bobby, if you mean to say you are
in love with her."
"Well, but I'll grow up, auntie. Anyhow, Paula Vedrowski is not so old
as I. She is--"
"For heaven's sake, Bobby, do go to sleep!"
"Don't you care to hear about _my_ love affairs?"
"You are perfectly ridiculous!"
"All right for you, auntie. I shan't listen when you want to tell me
about yours. Gee, Uncle Jack listens, you bet. I wish he was here this
minute. Say, is he ever going to get married?" There was no answer. He
peered over the top of the pillow. There were tears in his Aunt
Loraine's eyes. "Oh, say, auntie, darling, don't cry! I'll--I'll go to
sleep, honest!"
She was not in love with Truxton King, but she was a fine,
tender-hearted girl, who suffered because of the thing that had happened
to him and because she loved his sister.
Over in the Hotel Regengetz, on a little table in the centre of the
room, lay a thick envelope with the royal arms emblazoned in the upper
corner. It contained an invitation to the private circus that had been
arranged for the little Prince, and it bore the name of Truxton King.
Across the foot of the bed hung his evening clothes, laid out by a
faithful and well-tipped house valet, snug and ready for instant use.
But where was Truxton King?