HERR WINDT
When Renwick managed again to summon his wits, he found himself lying in
the dark where somebody was bathing his brows with a damp cloth. His
head ached a great deal and he lay for a moment without opening his
eyes, aware of soft fingers, the touch of which seemed to soothe the
pain immeasurably. He opened his eyes to the semi-obscurity of a small
room furnished with the cot on which he lay, a table and two chairs. It
was all very comfortable and cozy, but the most agreeable object was the
face of Marishka Strahni, not a foot from his own. Through eyes dimmed
by pain he thought he read in her expression a divine compassion and
tenderness, and quickly closed them again for fear that his eyes might
have deceived him. When he opened them again he murmured her name.
"Marishka," he said gently, "you--you have forgiven me?"
But she had moved slightly away from him and was now regarding him
impassively. It was too bad for his vision to have played him such a
trick. It was so much pleasanter to sleep with Marishka looking at him
like that.
"You have had a blow upon the head, Herr Renwick," her voice came as
from a distance. "I hope you are feeling better. It was necessary for me
to bathe your head with cold compresses."
Necessary! Of course. But it would have been so much pleasanter to know
that she had done it because she wanted to.
"So it was _au revoir_, after all?" he smiled, struggling to a sitting
posture.
"You had better lie still for a while," she said briefly.
His head was throbbing painfully, but he managed to make light of it.
"Oh, I'm quite all right, I think," he said looking around the room
curiously. "Would you mind telling me what happened and where we are?"
"They struck you down and brought us here. It's one of the gardener's
cottages on the estate."
"And you?"
"They were very polite but we are prisoners--for how long I don't know.
I've failed, Herr Renwick----" she finished miserably.
"Perhaps it isn't too late----"
"There are men outside. They intend to keep us here for the present."
"There ought to be a way----" said Renwick, putting his feet to the
ground. "I could----" He stopped abruptly, for at that moment he
discovered that the captured weapon had been removed from his pocket.
"I'm afraid it's hopeless," said Marishka bitterly.
Renwick glanced at his watch. "Only eight o'clock. Even now we
could----"
He rose and walked to the window, peering through a crack in the
shutter, but an attack of vertigo caused him to sink into a chair. She
regarded him dubiously, pride and compassion struggling, but she said
nothing.
"Beastly stupid of me," he groaned. "I might have known they'd spare no
detail----"
There was a knock upon the door, and at Marishka's response, a turning
of the key, and a man entered. In spite of a discolored eye and a
wrinkled neckband, he was not difficult to identify as their friend of
the railroad train. His manner, however, was far from forbidding, for he
clicked his heels, swept off his cap and smiled slowly, his gold tooth
gleaming pleasantly.
"Herr Renwick is, I trust, feeling better," he said politely.
Renwick grinned up at him sheepishly.
"I congratulate Herr Windt upon his adroitness," he said. "I fear I made
the mistake of underestimating his skill in divination."
"It was not inspired enough to guess that you were in the Countess
Strahni's carriage," he replied. "You have quick fingers, Herr Renwick.
Fortunately I was aware of your destination and knew that we should
meet. All is well that ends well."
"That depends upon the point of view, Herr Windt. But I might have
killed you in the railway carriage."
"That would have been an error in judgment, which would have been most
unfortunate for both of us. I, too, might have shot you through my
pocket, but I refrained, at some hazard to myself. I try never to exceed
the necessities of a situation. Having performed my mission successfully
I can now afford to be generous."
"Meaning--what, Herr Windt?"
"That I shall keep you here only so long as is absolutely necessary." He
glanced at his watch and said significantly, "The Archduke's private
train will leave here in half an hour."
Marishka had listened in some amazement to this conversation, but the
politeness of her jailer only angered her.
"I would like to know by what authority you imprison a loyal citizen of
Austria," she stormed. "Your identity seems to have made some impression
upon Herr Renwick, but I would inform you that I at least am not without
friends to whom you will answer for this outrage."
Herr Windt bowed low.
"I beg that Countess Strahni will reconsider that word. I have intended
to act with great discretion. Herr Renwick unfortunately underestimated
the forces to which he was opposed. I am sorry he has suffered injury.
As for you, Countess, I beg leave to recall that those who have
restrained you have treated you with every consideration."
"Who are you?" she asked angrily.
"Herr Renwick has spoken my name."
"You are a member of the secret service of the Austrian government?"
He smiled again and bowed low.
"It is the custom of those in my trade to ask questions--not to answer
them. In this service, however, it will please you perhaps to know that
I am not acting for the Austrian government."
"Who then?"
"I cannot reply."
"You dare not."
"Perhaps. But I am willing to admit, Countess Strahni, that the same
motive which impelled you to Schönbrunn," he said significantly, "has
actuated both myself and my employers."
"And that motive?"
"The safety of the Empire."
"Austria! But not complicity in this dastardly----"
At a warning sound from Renwick she paused. Herr Windt was regarding her
gravely.
"I regret that I do not comprehend the Countess Strahni's meaning," he
said with a bow. "It would be a source of great unhappiness to me, if in
doing my duty, I had done you a harm. I am not an enemy, Countess, but a
loyal compatriot. I may add that I am prepared to do what I can to
protect you from the results of your unfortunate connection with a
dangerous political situation."
"Protect! You!" Marishka smiled bitterly and glanced ironically around
the walls of the cabin.
"I beg to assure you that I am not jesting. Herr Renwick will recall
that he was attacked one night upon the streets of Vienna. He was also
shot at by some person unknown. The inspiration for those assaults did
not emanate from my employers."
"I suspected as much," muttered Renwick.
Marishka was examining Renwick wide-eyed.
"Shot at!" she murmured.
"The information in Herr Renwick's possession," Herr Windt went on
suavely, "was more damaging to other interests than to theirs. Herr
Renwick's connection with the British Embassy has terminated. He has
merely the status in Austria of a traveling Englishman. But his
activities are dangerous where they concern the movements of the
Countess Strahni. I am performing an act of friendship to a loyal
Austrian in offering her escort back to Vienna, where if she is wise she
will remain quietly under my surveillance."
During this speech, of which Herr Windt delivered himself with much
bowing and rubbing of his hands, Marishka remained silent, a wonder
growing in her eyes.
"I fail to see how my presence here or elsewhere can interest you or
others," she said as she sank upon the cot. Weariness was telling on her
and the disappointment of her mission's failure. And the threat of
danger that hung in his words was hardly reassuring.
"Countess Strahni may doubt my good intentions. That is her privilege.
In a short time"--here he looked at his watch again--"she will be at
liberty to come and go as she chooses. In the meanwhile I beg that she
will listen to me and heed my warning."
He looked at her until she raised her head and signified for him to
continue. "The agencies which attempted to prevent the delivery of Herr
Renwick's information to the British Embassy are again at work. Herr
Renwick having been"--he paused and bowed to Renwick--"if I may be
permitted to say so--having been repudiated by his Ambassador and by the
British government, he is politically a person of no importance--at
least as far as my relations with him are concerned. Whatever he may do
privately, unless it proves valuable to the interests of Austria's
enemies, will pass as it has already passed--unnoticed in Austria. The
case of the Countess Strahni is different----"
He paused a moment to rub his hands together thoughtfully.
"I can not understand----"
"Within the past twenty-four hours the apartments of the Baroness
Racowitz have been observed by persons not in my service. The Countess
perhaps has had no unusual communications?"
Marishka started up in her chair, while Windt, watching her, smiled
slowly.
"Ah, I was not mistaken----" he said.
"A request to go to the Hofburg tonight--before Herr Renwick came," she
whispered, now thoroughly aroused. "I did not go. The signature was
unfamiliar to me."
Herr Windt took a pace toward the window and peered forth through the
slats of the blind.
"The Countess Strahni would not have reached the Hofburg," he said
quietly. "She would have gone--er--elsewhere!"
"The man in the green limousine!" came suddenly in cryptic tones from
the silent Renwick.
"Exactly. He followed the Countess Strahni's fiacre in motor car to the
Nordwest Bahnhof."
"And you?"
"We forestalled him--that's all," he said, showing his gold tooth in a
most ingratiating smile, but there was a flash in the deep set eyes
which explained much to Renwick.
"There was a commotion near the booking-stall," said Renwick.
"Ah, you witnessed?"
"From a distance. I had other affairs."
"Yes. That will perhaps make my laxity with regard to Herr Renwick's
sudden appearance the more pardonable," said Windt, with a professional
air.
Marishka, who had listened with growing inquietude to these revelations
of her danger, had risen and paced nervously the length of the room.
"But why?" she pleaded. "Who can dare to molest me in my own home or in
the streets of Vienna?"
Herr Windt rubbed his injured eye gravely.
"The Countess Strahni has unfortunately become a political document, the
possession of which, I may even say the suppression of which, is highly
important."
Marishka sank upon the couch, and for a moment buried her face in her
hands.
"But what would be gained by getting me out of the way? I have already
told what I know."
Herr Windt smiled.
"As Herr Renwick would perhaps inform you, the place for an important
document is the safe. If the document is harmless a desk may do. If it
is incriminating, like you, Countess"--he said with a dramatic
gesture--"the fire!"
Renwick by this time had risen and stood fitting his monocle into his
eye.
"Astounding!" he muttered. "And yet I quite believe you."
"There seems little room to doubt." Herr Windt walked to the window and
peered out again. "My men are all about this place, Herr Renwick, and
yet even now I am not certain that you have not been followed."
He turned and faced Marishka with his usual bland composure. "Herr
Renwick should, I think, be able to take care of himself. I beg,
however, that Countess Strahni will not be unduly anxious. I shall
myself go outside and take every precaution." He turned at the door and
bowed. "I beg that in the meanwhile, you will come to some decision as
to your immediate plans, counting upon my efforts to aid you. There is
no train for Vienna until this afternoon," he said significantly. "I may
add that the machine in which you came from Altensteig will be returned
to its owner by one of my young men, who will explain the circumstances,
and arrange a proper compensation."
With this parting shot delivered in his best professional manner, Herr
Windt left the room with an air of triumphant urbanity which added not a
little to the respect with which Renwick now regarded him.
Marishka sat upright on the bed staring straight before her while
Renwick paced the floor frowning.
"If I could only have reached her--for a moment," said Marishka
brokenly, as though thinking aloud. "She would have listened to me--she
would have believed me. I would have thrown myself upon her mercy--told
her all. It is horrible--a death like that--when a word might save them
now--and it will be I--I who have killed them----" She started up
staring at Renwick. "And you! Why do you stand there, doing nothing?"
she flung at him wildly. "You learned of this thing--at Belgrade. Why
couldn't you have prevented it? Given it publicity? Why don't you do
something now? England has power. Why doesn't your Ambassador speak? Is
he frightened? Dumb? Will he stand idly by and see this----"
"It is none of England's affair, Countess Strahni," Renwick broke in
soothingly.
"Then it is of Germany's?" She halted as the new idea came to her, and
walked to the small table where she sank into a chair and buried her
head in her hands, trying to think.
After a while she raised her head suddenly and looked at Renwick.
"Do you believe that this man tells the truth?"
"I do. He stands high among those of his profession."
"Do you believe that agents of the German government were trying to take
me prisoner--and you?"
"Herr Windt is surprisingly well informed. I am quite sure that someone
is trying to shoot me," he laughed. "I believe that you were
followed--by whom I don't know."
"Then how do you explain the efforts of German agents to take me, when I
am acting in the interests of the Kaiser's friend and ally, the Archduke
Franz?"
"You forget that this plot is a secret one. The Archduke may fear the
Serbians and the Bosnians, not his own countrymen."
"Oh! Yes--of course." She was silent again, but moved her hands
nervously along the table top and in a moment got up and peered through
the window-blind.
"I beg that you will submit yourself to Herr Windt if not to
me----" pleaded Renwick earnestly. "At least in his company you will be
in no danger. I have done what I can to help you reach the Duchess,
because the secret we shared brought about this calamity. But the matter
has been taken out of my hands and yours. I advise you to return this
afternoon to Vienna."
She did not reply and only stood by the window, tapping at the sash with
unquiet fingers.
"You are tired," he said gently. "Lie down on this bed for awhile and I
will see what can be done about breakfast."
"I'm not hungry."
"You can't go without food."
"I'm not hungry," she repeated.
Renwick shrugged and walked to the other window, where he presently
observed Herr Windt coming around the corner of the building. That
remarkable person had thought of everything, for he carried in his hands
a coffeepot and cups, while another man followed with plates and a
saucepan.
He turned the key in the lock and entered, putting the coffee upon the
table and rubbing his hands with a more than usual gusto.
"I am delighted to be able to inform you that the occasion for your
detention has passed. Within certain bounds you are now at liberty. The
train of the Archduke has just passed down the valley."
"Oh!" gasped Marishka.
"I would advise you, however, to keep within call. If Herr Renwick will
give me his word of honor not to try to escape----"
"I don't quite know where I should go----"
"Very good. The wires, of course, Herr Renwick, are in the hands of
Austrian officials."
Renwick nodded.
"You have won, Herr Windt. I have no plans which conflict with yours."
He turned a glance toward Marishka. "Countess Strahni is very tired. I
think if we were to leave her for a few hours, she would probably eat
and rest----"
"By all means," said Windt with alacrity, moving toward the door. "And
if Herr Renwick will follow me I think I can find another coffeepot."
Marishka did not turn from the window as they went out of the door. Her
heart was heavy within her, and through the glaring summer sunlight
which came in at the window and beat upon her face, she saw--Sarajevo!
Sophie Chotek alighting from her train, the pomp and circumstance, the
glitter of uniforms, the crowded streets through which she must pass and
the crowd which seethed with unrest, along the street through which
Sophie Chotek must pass...! It was too horrible. She wanted to
shriek--to cry out against the infamy that was to be done, but she could
only close her eyes to try and shut the vision out.
After awhile she grew calmer, and tried to think clearly. There was a
pitcher and basin in the corner of the room, and so she bathed her face
and hands and refreshed herself. The coffee still steamed upon the
table. There was rye bread, and there were eggs in the water of the
saucepan. She felt weak and dispirited, but it would not do to fail for
lack of strength, and so she sat and ate and drank. The plan born of her
talk with Hugh Renwick still turned over and over in her mind. Would
Renwick still be able to do something to help her? Which way should she
turn? If her own efforts to warn Sophie Chotek had been futile, if Hugh
Renwick could not do something, and England selfishly held aloof while
this horrible conspiracy which seemed to have its very tendrils hidden
in the hearts of those who should have been her friends, was under way,
what must she do? She felt dreadfully; alone, and fearfully guilty. Her
own death or the threatened imprisonment of which Herr Windt spoke
seemed slight atonements for the wrong that she had done Sophie Chotek.
If she could still succeed, by using the agents of the Archduke's
imperial friend and ally, in sending a warning through the German
ambassador at Vienna, to Budapest or Sarajevo, the consequences to
herself were immaterial. They might have her to do with as they chose;
for by this sacrifice only could she atone. She did not fear death, for
death to youth and health is inconceivable. She smiled incredulously as
she thought again of the ominous surmises of the impossible Herr Windt.
There was something of the opera bouffe about his methods which
abstracted from the brilliancy of his success. To Marishka he was still
the head waiter. This was the twentieth century. No political secret
could justify the imprisonment or death of a woman!... She shuddered a
little, as she thought of the very death that had been planned by the
employers of Herr Windt--Austrians--loyal Austrians he called them, of
the same blood and lineage perhaps as herself. She had not yet succeeded
in wholly believing it. There was some missing reason for the actions of
this secret service agent, some motive which neither she nor Hugh
Renwick had yet fathomed, which would explain her detention and his. It
was unbelievable that----
Marishka started at a small sound from the direction of the fireplace.
It was a curious sound, a subdued metallic clink which nevertheless
differentiated itself with startling clearness from among the already
familiar sounds of the quiet summer morning. She started up and peered
into the shadows of the hearth. There was something there, a small
object--round, wrapped in paper. She reached forward quickly, picked it
up and examined it curiously then took off its covering, disclosing an
Austrian coin--a _kroner_--nothing more. It was most mysterious. The
thing could obviously have not come from the sky. Who?
She examined the paper closely. It seemed like a leaf torn from a note
book. There was writing on it, and moving to the window she made out the
script without difficulty. It was written in evident haste with a blunt
pencil.
I have found a way to escape in a machine from Herr Wendt, if you
will come at once. Only one man watches the cabin by the door.
There is another in the orchard. Go quietly out by the window and
follow the hedge to the garden wall. I will be at the gate beyond
the arbor. Destroy this note.
HUGH RENWICK.
Marishka read the note twice to be sure that there was no mistake. She
quickly peered through the window by the door. Yes, the man was there,
smoking his pipe in the sunshine, his back against a tree, dozing.
Anything were better than this interminable suspense--this horrible
oppression of acknowledged failure. To be under further obligations to
Herr Renwick was an added bitterness to her wounded pride, but hope had
already beggared her and she could not choose. She got into coat and
hat, and after another careful scrutiny of her somnolent guardian,
quietly opened the shutters of the side window, stepped out into the
shadow of the hedge, and made her way toward the distant garden wall.