Alan, Bob and Buck were nearly frantic with worry over the
still-missing Ned by the time darkness closed in.
“If any harm has come to that boy,” vowed Buck fiercely, “I swear that
I’ll leave no stone unturned until I find out the guilty parties and
punish them!”
Bob bit his lip gloomily.
“We’re all hoping for the best, of course,” said he, “and really I
believe that Ned can take care of himself all right.”
“A knife in the back--a blow from a dark doorway as he passed--any of a
score of possibilities here,” muttered Buck.
Alan shuddered and made a desperate effort to change the conversation.
“What are we going to do to frustrate this plot on the Emperor’s life!”
he asked. “If we do anything on that, it must be pretty soon, because
time is flying, and I recall that Ned overheard them say at that other
table that the meeting hour had been set for eleven o’clock.”
“That’s right,” chorused the other boys. “We mustn’t let our anxiety
for Ned permit us to neglect the other thing. How shall we go about it?”
They missed their chum’s ready foresight in planning a course of action
then, but, on the whole, did succeed in mapping out a pretty fair
course of procedure. It was Bob Russell’s idea. He said:
“Ned stated that some of the servants in the chateau had been bribed
into sympathy with the conspirators and will admit them secretly into
the house. The man with the big black beard and he of the twisted mouth
were to slip into the sleeping Emperor’s bedchamber through a window
reached by a ladder against the wall. The Emperor was to be strangled.
“Now what I suggest is that we use the _Ocean Flyer_ to get there.
Landing some distance away so as not to be heard from the chateau, we
can then lie in wait hidden by the lawn shrubbery until the miscreants
arrive. We can then pounce upon them and nip the murder right in the
bud.”
“Would it not be better first to warn the inmates of the chateau of
what is afoot?” asked Alan.
“No, that wouldn’t do at all, because neither we nor the Emperor know
which of the attendants are faithful and which are treacherous. We’ll
have to play this game single-handed, boys.”
So finally it was agreed to adopt the scheme as originally suggested by
Bob. Their preparations for departure at that hour of the night were
noted with great curiosity by the other aviators from the Austrian
hangars, and Capt. von Schleinitz, the young officer who had driven to
the hospital with them and told them about local conditions when they
first arrived, said casually:
“You choose a peculiar hour for starting off again, gentlemen.”
“Yes,” Bob answered him, “we are only going on a small flight. Mr.
Napier is not returned yet, so we will, of course, be back for him.”
“How I wish that I might be privileged to accompany you on one of your
flights!”
Alan and Buck overheard his remark, and after excusing themselves for
the seeming discourtesy, took Bob aside.
“Listen, Bob,” Alan whispered. “Why not take Captain von Schleinitz
along with us on to-night’s expedition. He impresses me as a brave,
good fellow, and the presence of a regular Austrian army officer
aboard might prove of great help in several ways. Patrolling military
aeroplanes might stop us with all sorts of questions once we get into
the air.”
“I guess you’re right, Alan,” said Bob thoughtfully. “Let’s take him
into our confidence then and explain the whole matter.”
This was accordingly done. The Austrian was horrified by the revelation
of the plot and urged all possible haste. By ten-thirty the _Flyer’s_
engines were started and the short flight to Schoenbrunn was begun.
No lights were shown aboard as the boys were anxious to avoid all
unwelcome attentions.
No attempt was made to hinder their progress, and a landing was made
almost noiselessly not far from the enclosed gardens of the chateau.
No one of the boys was willing to be left behind in charge of the
airship while the others went forward into the adventure, yet it
was imperative that someone should stay. After considerable heated
discussion it was finally decided to draw lots. This method determined
upon Buck as the one to remain behind, which he submitted to with much
disappointment.
Alan, Bob and Captain von Schleinitz gripped his hand hard in a last
good-bye, and slipped stealthily away into the darkness. Buck was left
alone.
There was no moon visible that night. The sky lowered with the threat
of storm, streamers of clouds scudded as if frightened before the
strong wind. In a near-by marsh the frogs and crickets made melancholy
music. Afar off to the right somewhere a dog howled mournfully.
* * * * *
Nine cloak-shrouded figures stood in close conference at the Spvodka
turnpike, a bare ten minutes’ walk from the Chateau Schoenbrunn. Their
manner was mysterious, sinister. They were impatiently waiting for
someone.
Far down the road the purr of a motor could be heard, growing rapidly
lower. Suddenly it ceased altogether and a tenth sepulchral figure
stalked towards them through the gloom.
A subdued murmur of satisfaction greeted his approach.
“At last you are here, Count Polnych--”
A quick hand was clapped over the mouth of the big black-bearded man
who spoke.
“Hush, you fool! No names here!”
The newcomer did not address the others, but with a finger to his lips
enjoining silence, he led them towards where the high walls enclosing
the grounds of the Chateau Schoenbrunn loomed up through the darkness.
Tiptoeing close to the huge iron gates, the leader of the band shoved
gently. The ponderous gate swung inwards upon hinges that had been
freshly greased to preclude all danger of squeaking. Just inside the
gates a sentry lay securely bound and gagged on the damp grass. The
chateau servants had earned their blood money.
Alan, Bob and von Schleinitz were crouched behind the thick shrubbery
so near that they could have reached out and touched the stealthy
intruders. Revolvers were held ready for instant use.
“Look!” whispered Bob. “The huge bearded man there is the one whom Buck
trailed down. There is the thug with the twisted mouth. That fat little
man shivering in the wind is the Grand Chancellor and--yes, by Jove!
That fellow there who seems to be giving them directions is the very
man whom Ned set out to follow. If he is here, where is poor Ned?”
The tall man whom the conspirators had addressed as “count” did very
little talking. At a signal from him, Black-beard and Twisted Mouth
slipped away around the corner of the chateau, and the remainder of the
band slunk noiselessly over the grass to where the silent black pile of
the building showed through the trees.
Alan, Bob and von Schleinitz skulked close at their heels, dodging from
bush to tree-trunk, to shrub. It was harrowing work.
Once a stone crunched under Bob’s foot as he darted across a gravel
path.
“What was that?”
The group of conspirators had whirled about in consternation, weapons
shining dully in their hands. Only a deathly stillness rewarded their
listening, however. Finally the little fat man, who was chancellor of
the realm, laughed nervously.
“Bah! It was nothing! We are unstrung to-night,” he said in a low tone.
“But to-morrow--”
Evil anticipation lit up the faces of his companions.
“Ready now!” whispered he whom they had called “count.”
The ten of them slipped through the unlocked door into the house where
the aged Emperor slept all unconscious of the hands at his throat.