CHAPTER XII
A NEW PRISONER ARRIVES
It was far past midnight when King was roused from the doze into whichhe had fallen, exhausted and disconsolate, an hour earlier. Sounds ofunusual commotion reached him from the outer room. Instantly he was wideawake, breathing heavily in the sudden overpowering fear that he hadslept for many hours and that the time had come for the conspirators togo forth. Was it the 26th?
Loud, quick commands came to his ears; the moving of eager footsteps;the drawing of bolts.
"They are here at last," he heard some one say. "God, this suspense hasbeen horrible. But they are here."
"Stand ready, then, with the guns!" cried Peter Brutus. "It may be atrick, after all. Don't open that door down there, Spantz, until youknow who is on the outside."
Then followed a long interval of dead silence.
"It's all right," came at last in the relieved, eager voice of PeterBrutus. "Clear the way, comrades. Give them room! By our Holy Father,this is a brave triumph. Ah!"
Heavy footsteps clogged into the room, accompanied by stertorousbreathing and no small amount of grunting from masculine throats. Doorswere closed, bolts shot, and then many voices let loose their flow ofeager exclamations. Not one, but three or four languages were spoken bythe excited, intense occupants of the outer room; King could, makenothing of what they said. Finally the sharp, incisive voice of WilliamSpantz broke through the babble, commanding silence.
"Still unconscious," he said, when some measure of order was secured.
"Yes," grunted one of the men, evidently a newcomer. "Since we left thehouse above the ramparts. No need for gags or bonds, but we used them,just the same. Now that we are here, what is to be done?"
"We will have our instructions to-morrow. The Count is to inform usbefore nightfall where she is to be removed to. Next week she is to goto Schloss Marlanx." Brutus inserted a cruel, heartless laugh, and thenadded: "There she is to remain until he is quite ready to take her tonew apartments--in town. Trust the master to dispose of her properly. Heknows how to handle women by this time."
A woman, thought Truxton. The Countess! They had brought her here fromBalak, after all. What a remorseless brute Marlanx must be to maltreathis beautiful wife as--Truxton did not complete the angry reflection.Words from the other side of the door checked the train of thought.
"To my mind, she is more beautiful than his own wife," observed AnnaCromer. "She will be a fine morsel for the Count, who has even castlonging eyes on so homely a mortal as I."
"All women are alike to him," said Spantz sententiously. "I hope she isnot to be left here for long. I don't like women about at a time likethis. No offence, Madame Drovnask."
"She'll go to-morrow night, I'm sure," said Peter. "I told the Count wecould not keep her here over the--over the 26th. You see, there is abare possibility that none of us may ever come back after the bomb ishurled. See? We don't want a woman to die of starvation down here, inthat event. I don't care what happens to the man in there. But the Countdoes not want this one to starve. Oh, no; not he."
"We must put her in the room with the American for the present. You aresure he will take her away before Saturday? A woman's cries are mostdistressing." It was Spantz who spoke.
"I'll stop her crying," volunteered Anna Cromer harshly.
"I fancy you could, my dear," agreed Spantz. They all laughed.
"She's regaining her senses," exclaimed one of the men. "Stand back,every one. Give her air."
"Air?" cried Anna Cromer. "It's at a premium down here, Raoul."
Presently the door to King's room was thrown open. He had got to hisfeet and was standing in the centre of the room, his eyes blinking inthe glare of light.
"Holloh!" cried Peter Brutus, "you up, eh? We've got a fair lady foryou, my friend. Get back there, you dog! Keep in your corner."
Truxton faced the ugly crowd beyond the door for a moment and then fellback to the corner to watch the proceedings with wondering, pityingeyes.
"You are a fine bunch of human beings," he blurted out, savage withdespair and rage. No one gave heed to the compliment.
A man with a lighted candle entered first, holding the light above hishead. He was followed by two others, who supported the drooping,tottering figure of a woman.
"Let her sit there against the wall, Drago. Julius, fetch in morecandles. She must not be left in the dark. _He_ says she is not to befrightened to death. Women are afraid of the dark--and strange dogs.Let there be light," scoffed Peter Brutus, spitting toward King.
"I'll get you for that some day," grated the American, white with anger.Peter hesitated, then spat again and laughed loudly.
"Enough!" commanded William Spantz. "We are not children." Turning toKing he went on, a touch of kindness in his voice: "Cheer her if youcan. She is one of your class. Do not let the lights go out."
Raising his hands, he fairly drove the others from the doorway. Aninstant later, King and his miserable, half-conscious companion werealone, locked in together, the fitful light from the candle on the floorplaying hide and seek in shadows he had not seen before during his ageof imprisonment.
For a long time he stood in his corner, watching the figure huddledagainst the opposite wall. Her face was not plainly visible, her headhaving dropped forward until the chin nestled in the lace jabot at herthroat. A mass of tangled hair fell across her eyes; her arms hunglimply at her sides; small, modish riding hoots showed beneath the hemof her skin, forlorn in their irresoluteness. Her garments were sadlybedraggled; a pathetic breast rose and fell in choking sobs and gasps.
Suddenly he started forward, his eyes wide and staring. He had seen thatgrey riding habit before! He had seen the hair!
Two eager steps he took and then halted, half way. She had heard him andwas raising her eyes, bewildered and wavering between dreamland andreality.
"Great Jehovah!" he gasped, unbelieving. "You? My God, is it you?"
He dropped to his knees before her, peering into her startled eyes. Alook of abject terror crossed the tired, tear-stained face. She shrankaway from him, shivering, whimpering like a cowed child.
"What is it? Where am I?" she moaned. "Oh, let me go! What have I done,that you should bring me here? Let me go, Mr. King! You are not sowicked as--"
"I? I bring you here?" he interrupted, aghast. Then he understood. Utterdismay filled his eyes. "You think that I have done this thing to you?God above us! Look! I, too, am a prisoner here. I've been here for days,weeks, years. They are going to kill me after to-morrow. And you thinkthat I have done this to you!"
"I don't know what--Oh, Mr. King, what does it all mean? Forgive me! Isee now. You are bound--you are suffering--you are years older. I seenow. But why is it? What have you done? What have I done?"
She was growing hysterical with terror.
"Don't shrink from me," he urged. "Try to calm yourself. Try to lookupon me as a friend--as a possible saviour. Lie quiet, do, for a littlewhile. Think it all out for yourself."
He knelt there before her while she sobbed out the last agony of alarm.There were no tears in her eyes; racking sobs shook her slender body;every nerve was aquiver, he could see. Patiently he waited, never takinghis firm, encouraging gaze from her face. She grew calmer, morerational. Then, with the utmost gentleness, he persuaded her to rise andwalk about the little room with him.
"It will give you strength and courage," he urged. "Poor little girl!Poor little girl!"
She looked up into his face, a new light coming into her eyes.
"Don't talk now," he said softly. "Take your time. Hold to my arm,please. There! In a little while you'll be able to tell me all aboutit--and then we'll set about to find a way to escape these devils. We'lllaugh at 'em, after all."
For five or ten minutes he led her back and forth across the room, verytenderly. At first she was faint and uncertain; then, as her strengthand wits came back to her, courage took the place of despair. She smiledwanly and asked him to sit down with her.
"A way to es
cape, you said," she murmured, as he dropped to her side."Where are we? What is it all about?"
"Not so loud," he cautioned. "I'll be perfectly candid with you. You'llhave to be very, very brave. But wait. Perhaps it will be easier for youto tell me what has happened to you, so far as you know. I can throwlight on the whole situation, I think. Tell me, please, in your own wayand time. We're in a sorry mess, and it looks black, but, this much Ican tell you: you are to be set free in a few days, unharmed. You mayrest easy. That much is assured."
"And you?" she whispered, clutching his arm tightly, the swift thrill ofrelief dying almost as it was born. "What of you?"
"Oh, I'll get out all right," he affirmed with a confidence he did notfeel. "I'm going to get you out of this or die in the attempt. Sh! Don'toppose me," he went on whimsically. "I've always wanted to be a hero,and here's my chance. Now tell me what happened to you."
Her piquant, ever-sprightly face had lost the arrogance that hadtroubled all his dreams of conquest. She was pale and shivering and sosorely distressed that he had it in his heart to clasp her in his armsas one might do in trying to soothe a frightened child. Her face grewcloudy with the effort to concentrate her thoughts; a piteous frownsettled upon her brow.
"I'm not sure that I can recall everything. It is all so terrible--sounaccountable. It's like a dream that you try to remember and cannot.Finding you here in this place is really the strangest part of it. Icannot believe that I am awake."
She looked long and anxiously into his face, her eyebrows drawn togetherin an earnest squint of uncertainty. "Oh, Mr. King, I have had such adreadful--dreadful time. Am I awake?"
"That's what I've been asking of myself," he murmured. "I guess we'reboth awake all right. Nightmares don't last forever."
Her story came haltingly; he was obliged to supply many of the detailsby conjecture, she was so hazy and vague in her memory.
At the beginning of the narrative, however, Truxton was raised tounusual heights; he felt such a thrill of exaltation that for the momenthe forgot his and her immediate peril. In a perfectly matter-of-factmanner she was informing him that her search for him had not beenabandoned until Baron Dangloss received a telegram from Paris, statingthat King was in a hospital there, recovering from a wound in the head.
"You can imagine what I thought when I saw you here a little while,ago," she said, again looking hard at his face as if to make sure. "Wehad looked everywhere for you. You see, I was ashamed. That man fromCook's told us that you were hurt by--by the way I treated you the daybefore you disappeared, and--well, he said you talked very foolishlyabout it."
He drew a long breath. Somehow he was happier than he had been before."Hobbs is a dreadful ass," he managed to say.
It seems that the ministry was curiously disturbed by the eventsattending the disappearance of the Countess Ingomede. The deceptionpractised upon John Tullis, frustrated only by the receipt of a genuinemessage from the Countess, was enough to convince the authorities thatsomething serious was afoot. It may have meant no more than theassassination of Tullis at the hands of a jealous husband; or it mayhave been a part of the vast conspiracy which Dangloss now believed tobe in progress of development.
"Development!" Truxton King had exclaimed at this point in hernarrative. "Good God, if Dangloss only knew what I know!"
There had been a second brief message from the Countess. She admittedthat she was with her husband at the Axphain capital. This message cameto Tullis and was to the effect that she and the Count were leavingalmost immediately for a stay at Biarritz in France. "Mr. King," saidthe narrator, "the Countess lied. They did not go to Biarritz. I amconvinced now that she is in the plot with that vile old man. She mayeven expect to reign in Graustark some day if his plans are carried out.I saw Count Marlanx yesterday. He was in Graustark. I knew him by theportrait that hangs in the Duke of Perse's house--the portrait thatIngomede always frowns at when I mention it to her. So, they did not goto France."
She was becoming excited. Her eyes flashed; she spoke rapidly. On themorning of the 23d she had gone for her gallop in the famous Ganlookroad, attended by two faithful grooms from the Royal stables.
"I was in for a longer ride than usual," she said, with suddenconstraint. She looked away from her eager listener. "I was nervous andhad not slept the night before. A girl never does, I suppose."
He looked askance. "Yes?" he queried.
She was blushing, he was sure of it. "I mean a girl is always nervousand distrait after--after she has promised, don't you see."
"No, I don't see."
"I had promised Count Vos Engo the night before that I--Oh, but itreally has nothing to do with the story. I--"
Truxton was actually glaring at her. "You mean that you had promised tomarry Count Vos Engo!" he stammered.
"We will not discuss--"
"But did you promise to be his wife? Is he the man you love?" heinsisted. She stared at him in surprise and no little resentment.
"I beg of you, Mr. King--" she began, but he interrupted her.
"Forgive me. I'm a fool. Don't mind me." He sank back against the wall,the picture of dejection. "It doesn't matter, anyway. I've got to die ina day or two, so what's the odds?"
"How very strangely you talk. Are you sure--I mean, do you think it isfever? One suffers so--"
He sighed deeply. "Well, that's over! Whew! It was a dream, by Jove!"
"I don't understand."
"Please go on."
She waited a moment and then, looking down, said very gently: "I'm sosorry for you." He laughed, for he thought she pitied him because he hadawakened from the dream.
Then she resumed her story, not to be interrupted again. He seemed tohave lost all interest.
She had gone six or eight miles down the Ganlook road when she came upwith five troopers of the Royal Guard. It was a lonely spot at thejunction of the King's Highway and the road to the mines. One of thetroopers came forward and respectfully requested her to turn off intothe mine road until a detachment passed, in charge of a gang ofdesperadoes taken at the Inn of the Hawk and Raven the night before.Unsuspecting, she rode off into the forest lane for several hundredyards.
It was a trap. The men were not troopers, but brigands gotten up in theuniform of the guard. Once away from the main highway, they madeprisoners of her and the two grooms. Then followed a long ride throughroads new to her. At noon they came to a halt while the rascals changedtheir clothing, appearing in their true garb, that of the mountaineer.Half dead with dread, she heard them discussing their plans; they spokequite freely in the presence of the well-beaten grooms, who were led toexpect death before many hours. It was the design of the bandits to maketheir way to the almost impregnable fastnesses in the hills ofDawsbergen, the wild principality to the south. There they could holdher against all hope of rescue, until an immense sum of money was paidover in ransom by her dispairing friends.
When night came they were high in the mountains back of the Monastery,many hours ahead of any pursuit. They became stupidly careless, and thetwo grooms made a dash for freedom. One of them was killed, but theother escaped. She was afterward to recall that no effort was made torecapture him; they deliberately allowed him to escape, their cunningpurpose becoming only too apparent later on.
Instead of hurrying on to Dawsbergen, they dropped swiftly down into thevalley above the city. No secret was made of the ruse they had employedto mislead the prospective pursuers. The rescue party, they sworejoyously, would naturally be led by John Tullis; he would go with allhaste to the Dawsbergen hills. The word of the trusty groom would betaken as positive proof that the captive was in that country. Sheshuddered as she listened to their exultant chuckles. It had been a mostcunningly conceived plan and it promised to result profitably for themin the end.
Some time during the slow, torturing ride through the forest sheswooned. When she came to her senses she was in a dimly lighted room,surrounded by men. The gag had been removed from her mouth. She wouldhave shrieked out in her terror, had not h
er gaze rested upon the figureof a man who sat opposite, his elbows on the back of the chair which hestraddled, his chin on his arms. He was staring at her steadily, hisblack eyes catching her gaze and holding it as a snake holds the bird ithas charmed.
She recognised the hard, hawk-like face. There could be no mistake. Shewas looking into the face that made the portrait of the Iron Count soabhorrent to her: the leathery head of a cadaver with eyes that lived. Aportrait of Voltaire, the likeness of a satyr, a suggestion ofSatan--all rushed up from memory's storehouse to hold her attention raptin contemplation of this sinister figure.
He smiled. It was like the crumpling of soft leather. Then, with a wordto one of the men, he abruptly left the room. After that she broke downand cried herself into the sleep of exhaustion.
All the next day she sat limp and helpless in the chair they had broughtto her. She could neither eat nor drink. Late in the afternoon Marlanxcame again. She knew not from whence he came: he stood before hersuddenly, as if produced by the magic of some fabled genie, smilingblandly, his hands clasped behind his back, his attitude one oflecherous calculation.
Truxton King ground his teeth with rage and despair while she wasbreathlessly repeating the suave compliments that oozed from the lips ofthe tormentor.
"He laughed when I demanded that he should restore me to my friends. Hechided me when I pleaded and begged for mercy. My questions were neveranswered. He only said that no harm was to come to me; I was merelytouching purgatory that I might better appreciate paradise when I cameto it. Oh, it was horrible! I thought I would go mad. Finally I calledhim a beast; I don't know what else I said. He merely smiled. Presentlyhe called one of the men into the room. He said something about a sewerand a hole in the ground. Then the man went out and I heard the clickingof a telegraph instrument. I heard certain instructions. I was to betaken to a certain place in the city at nightfall and kept there untilto-morrow night, when I am again to be removed by way of the river. Thatis all I know. Where am I, Mr. King? Oh, this dreadful place! Why are wehere--you and I?"
King's heart throbbed fiercely one more. He was looking straight intothe piteous, wondering eyes; his gaze fell to the parted, tremulouslips. A vast hunger possessed his soul. In that moment he could havelaid down his life for her, with a smile of rejoicing.
Then he told her why she was there, why he was there--and of the 26th.The dreadful 26th!
Her eyes grew wide with horror and understanding; her bosom rose andfell rapidly with the sobs of suppressed terror. At last he had finishedhis stupefying tale; they sat side by side staring into each other'seyes, helpless, stricken.
"God in heaven!" she repeated over and over again, in a piteous whisper.
The candle flickered with feeble interest in the shadows that began togrow in the farthest corner. The girl drew closer to the side of thestrong yet powerless man. Their gaze went to the sputtering candle. Itwas going out and they would be in utter darkness. And yet neitherthought of the supply of fresh candles in the corner.
King brought himself out of the strange lethargy with a jerk. It washigh time, for the light was going.
"Quick!" he cried. "The candle! Light a fresh one. My hands are bound."
She crept to the candles and joined the wicks. A new light grew as theold one died. Then she stood erect, looking down upon him.
"You are bound. I forgot."
She started forward, dropping to her knees beside him, an eager gleam inher eyes. "If I can untie the rope--will that help? Can you do anything?You are strong. There must be a way. There must be one little chance foryou--for us. Let me try."
"By Jove," he whispered admiringly, his spirits leaping to meet hers."You've got pluck. You put new life in me. I--I was almost a--aquitter."
"You have been here so long," she explained quickly. "And tied all thesedays." She was tugging at the knot.
"Only since I gave that pleasant punch to Peter Brutus."
"That shows what you can do," she whispered warmly. "Oh, I wonder! Iwonder if we have a chance! Anyway, your arms will be free. I shall feelsafer if your arms are free."
He sat with his back to her while she struggled with the stubborn knots.A delicious thrill of pleasure swept over him. She had said she wouldfeel safer if his arms were free! She was struggling, with many a tensestraining of delicate fingers, to undo the bonds which held himhelpless. The touch of her eager fingers, the closeness of her body, thewarmth of her breathing--he was beginning to hope that the effort mightbe prolonged interminably.
At last, after many despairing tugs, the knot relaxed. "There!" shecried, sinking back exhausted. "Oh, how it must have hurt you! Yourwrists are raw!"
He suppressed the tactless impulse to say that he preferred a rope onthe wrists to one about his neck, realising that the jest could onlyshock and not amuse her under the present conditions.
His arms were stiff and sore and hung like lead at his sides. Shewatched him, with narrowed eyes, while he stood off and tried to workblood and strength back into his muscles.
"Do you think you can--can do anything now, Mr. King?" she asked, aftera long interval.
He would not tell her how helpless he was, even with his hands free. Sohe smiled bravely and sought to reassure her with the most imposingboasts he could utter. She began to breathe easier; the light in hereyes grew brighter, more hopeful.
"We must escape," she said, as if it were all settled.
"It cannot be to-night," he gently informed her, a sickness attackingher heart. "Don't you think you'd better try to get some sleep?"
He prevailed upon her to lie down, with his coat for a pillow. In twominutes she was asleep.
For an hour or more he sat there, looking sorrowfully at the tired,sweet face, the utmost despair in his soul. At last he stretched himselfout on the floor, near the door, and as he went to sleep he prayed thatProvidence might open a way for him to prove that she was not dependingon him in vain.
Truxton King: A Story of Graustark Page 12