Rupert of Hentzau: From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER II. A STATION WITHOUT A CAB

  The arrangements for my meeting with Mr. Rassendyll had been carefullymade by correspondence before he left England. He was to be at theGolden Lion Hotel at eleven o'clock on the night of the 15th of October.I reckoned to arrive in the town between eight and nine on the sameevening, to proceed to another hotel, and, on pretence of taking astroll, slip out and call on him at the appointed hour. I should thenfulfil my commission, take his answer, and enjoy the rare pleasure ofa long talk with him. Early the next morning he would have leftWintenberg, and I should be on my way back to Strelsau. I knew that hewould not fail to keep his appointment, and I was perfectly confident ofbeing able to carry out the programme punctually; I had, however, takenthe precaution of obtaining a week's leave of absence, in case anyunforeseen accident should delay my return. Conscious of having doneall I could to guard against misunderstanding or mishap, I got into thetrain in a tolerably peaceful frame of mind. The box was in my innerpocket, the letter in a portemonnaie. I could feel them both with myhand. I was not in uniform, but I took my revolver. Although I had noreason to anticipate any difficulties, I did not forget that what Icarried must be protected at all hazards and all costs.

  The weary night journey wore itself away. Bauer came to me in themorning, performed his small services, repacked my hand-bag, procuredme some coffee, and left me. It was then about eight o'clock; we hadarrived at a station of some importance and were not to stop again tillmid-day. I saw Bauer enter the second-class compartment in which hewas traveling, and settled down in my own coupe. I think it was at thismoment that the thought of Rischenheim came again into my head, and Ifound myself wondering why he clung to the hopeless idea of compassingRupert's return and what business had taken him from Strelsau. But Imade little of the matter, and, drowsy from a broken night's rest, soonfell into a doze. I was alone in the carriage and could sleep withoutfear or danger. I was awakened by our noontide halt. Here I saw Baueragain. After taking a basin of soup, I went to the telegraph bureau tosend a message to my wife; the receipt of it would not merely set hermind at case, but would also ensure word of my safe progress reachingthe queen. As I entered the bureau I met Bauer coming out of it. Heseemed rather startled at our encounter, but told me readily enoughthat he had been telegraphing for rooms at Wintenberg, a very needlessprecaution, since there was no danger of the hotel being full. In factI was annoyed, as I especially wished to avoid calling attention to myarrival. However, the mischief was done, and to rebuke my servant mighthave aggravated it by setting his wits at work to find out my motive forsecrecy. So I said nothing, but passed by him with a nod. When the wholecircumstances came to light, I had reason to suppose that besideshis message to the inn-keeper, Bauer sent one of a character and to aquarter unsuspected by me.

  We stopped once again before reaching Wintenberg. I put my head out ofthe window to look about me, and saw Bauer standing near the luggagevan. He ran to me eagerly, asking whether I required anything. I toldhim "nothing"; but instead of going away, he began to talk to me.Growing weary of him, I returned to my seat and waited impatiently forthe train to go on. There was a further delay of five minutes, and thenwe started.

  "Thank goodness!" I exclaimed, leaning back comfortably in my seat andtaking a cigar from my case.

  But in a moment the cigar rolled unheeded on to the floor, as I sprangeagerly to my feet and darted to the window. For just as we wereclearing the station, I saw being carried past the carriage, on theshoulders of a porter, a bag which looked very much like mine. Bauerhad been in charge of my bag, and it had been put in the van under hisdirections. It seemed unlikely that it should be taken out now by anymistake. Yet the bag I saw was very like the bag I owned. But I was notsure, and could have done nothing had I been sure. We were not to stopagain before Wintenberg, and, with my luggage or without it, I myselfmust be in the town that evening.

  We arrived punctual to our appointed time. I sat in the carriage amoment or two, expecting Bauer to open the door and relieve me of mysmall baggage. He did not come, so I got out. It seemed that I had fewfellow-passengers, and these were quickly disappearing on foot or incarriages and carts that waited outside the station. I stood looking formy servant and my luggage. The evening was mild; I was encumbered withmy hand-bag and a heavy fur coat. There were no signs either of Bauer orof baggage. I stayed where I was for five or six minutes. The guard ofthe train had disappeared, but presently I observed the station-master;he seemed to be taking a last glance round the premises. Going up to himI asked whether he had seen my servant; he could give me no news ofhim. I had no luggage ticket, for mine had been in Bauer's hands; but Iprevailed on him to allow me to look at the baggage which had arrived;my property was not among it. The station-master was inclined, I think,to be a little skeptical as to the existence both of bag and ofservant. His only suggestion was that the man must have been left behindaccidentally. I pointed out that in this case he would not have hadthe bag with him, but that it would have come on in the train. Thestation-master admitted the force of my argument; he shrugged hisshoulders and spread his hands out; he was evidently at the end of hisresources.

  Now, for the first time and with sudden force, a doubt of Bauer'sfidelity thrust itself into my mind. I remembered how little I knew ofthe fellow and how great my charge was. Three rapid movements of myhand assured me that letter, box, and revolver were in their respectiveplaces. If Bauer had gone hunting in the bag, he had drawn a blank. Thestation-master noticed nothing; he was stating at the dim gas lamp thathung from the roof. I turned to him.

  "Well, tell him when he comes--" I began.

  "He won't come to-night, now," interrupted the stationmaster, none toopolitely. "No other train arrives to-night."

  "Tell him when he does come to follow me at once to the Wintenbergerhof.I'm going there immediately." For time was short, and I did not wish tokeep Mr. Rassendyll waiting. Besides, in my new-born nervousness, I wasanxious to accomplish my errand as soon as might be. What had becomeof Bauer? The thought returned, and now with it another, that seemedto connect itself in some subtle way with my present position: why andwhither had the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim set out from Strelsau a daybefore I started on my journey to Wintenberg?

  "If he comes I'll tell him," said the station-master, and as he spoke helooked round the yard.

  There was not a cab to be seen! I knew that the station lay on theextreme outskirts of the town, for I had passed through Wintenberg onmy wedding journey, nearly three years before. The trouble involved inwalking, and the further waste of time, put the cap on my irritation.

  "Why don't you have enough cabs?" I asked angrily.

  "There are plenty generally, sir," he answered more civilly, with anapologetic air. "There would be to-night but for an accident."

  Another accident! This expedition of mine seemed doomed to be the sportof chance.

  "Just before your train arrived," he continued, "a local came in. Asa rule, hardly anybody comes by it, but to-night a number of men--oh,twenty or five-and-twenty, I should think--got out. I collected theirtickets myself, and they all came from the first station on the line.Well, that's not so strange, for there's a good beer-garden there. But,curiously enough, every one of them hired a separate cab and drove off,laughing and shouting to one another as they went. That's how it happensthat there were only one or two cabs left when your train came in, andthey were snapped up at once."

  Taken alone, this occurrence was nothing; but I asked myself whether theconspiracy that had robbed me of my servant had deprived me of a vehiclealso.

  "What sort of men were they?" I asked.

  "All sorts of men, sir," answered the station-master, "but most of themwere shabby-looking fellows. I wondered where some of them had got themoney for their ride."

  The vague feeling of uneasiness which had already attacked me grewstronger. Although I fought against it, calling myself an old womanand a coward, I must confess to an impulse which almost made me begthe station-master's company on
my walk; but, besides being ashamedto exhibit a timidity apparently groundless, I was reluctant to drawattention to myself in any way. I would not for the world have itsupposed that I carried anything of value.

  "Well, there's no help for it," said I, and, buttoning my heavy coatabout me, I took my hand-bag and stick in one hand, and asked my wayto the hotel. My misfortunes had broken down the station-master'sindifference, and he directed me in a sympathetic tone.

  "Straight along the road, sir," said he, "between the poplars, for hardon half a mile; then the houses begin, and your hotel is in the firstsquare you come to, on the right."

  I thanked him curtly (for I had not quite forgiven him his earlierincivility), and started on my walk, weighed down by my big coat andthe handbag. When I left the lighted station yard I realized that theevening had fallen very dark, and the shade of the tall lank treesintensified the gloom. I could hardly see my way, and went timidly, withfrequent stumbles over the uneven stones of the road. The lamps weredim, few, and widely separated; so far as company was concerned, I mighthave been a thousand miles from an inhabited house. In spite of myself,the thought of danger persistently assailed my mind. I began to reviewevery circumstance of my journey, twisting the trivial into some ominousshape, magnifying the significance of everything which might justlyseem suspicious, studying in the light of my new apprehensions everyexpression of Bauer's face and every word that had fallen from his lips.I could not persuade myself into security. I carried the queen's letter,and--well, I would have given much to have old Sapt or Rudolf Rassendyllby my side.

  Now, when a man suspects danger, let him not spend his time in askingwhether there be really danger or in upbraiding himself for timidity,but let him face his cowardice, and act as though the danger were real.If I had followed that rule and kept my eyes about me, scanning thesides of the road and the ground in front of my feet, instead of losingmyself in a maze of reflection, I might have had time to avoid the trap,or at least to get my hand to my revolver and make a fight for it; or,indeed, in the last resort, to destroy what I carried before harm cameto it. But my mind was preoccupied, and the whole thing seemed to happenin a minute. At the very moment that I had declared to myself the vanityof my fears and determined to be resolute in banishing them, I heardvoices--a low, strained whispering; I saw two or three figures in theshadow of the poplars by the wayside. An instant later, a dart was madeat me. While I could fly I would not fight; with a sudden forward plungeI eluded the men who rushed at me, and started at a run towards thelights of the town and the shapes of the houses, now distant about aquarter of a mile. Perhaps I ran twenty yards, perhaps fifty; I do notknow. I heard the steps behind me, quick as my own. Then I fell headlongon the road--tripped up! I understood. They had stretched a rope acrossmy path; as I fell a man bounded up from either side, and I found therope slack under my body. There I lay on my face; a man knelt on me,others held either hand; my face was pressed into the mud of the road,and I was like to have been stifled; my hand-bag had whizzed away fromme. Then a voice said:

  "Turn him over."

  I knew the voice; it was a confirmation of the fears which I had latelybeen at such pains to banish. It justified the forecast of Anton vonStrofzin, and explained the wager of the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim--forit was Rischenheim's voice.

  They caught hold of me and began to turn me on my back. Here I saw achance, and with a great heave of my body I flung them from me. For ashort instant I was free; my impetuous attack seemed to have startledthe enemy; I gathered myself up on my knees. But my advantage was not tolast long. Another man, whom I had not seen, sprang suddenly on me likea bullet from a catapult. His fierce onset overthrew me; I was stretchedon the ground again, on my back now, and my throat was clutchedviciously in strong fingers. At the same moment my arms were againseized and pinned. The face of the man on my chest bent down towardsmine, and through the darkness I discerned the features of Rupert ofHentzau. He was panting with the sudden exertion and the intense forcewith which he held me, but he was smiling also; and when he saw bymy eyes that I knew him, he laughed softly in triumph. Then cameRischenheim's voice again.

  "Where's the bag he carried? It may be in the bag."

  "You fool, he'll have it about him," said Rupert, scornfully. "Hold himfast while I search."

  On either side my hands were still pinned fast. Rupert's left hand didnot leave my throat, but his free right hand began to dart aboutme, feeling, probing, and rummaging. I lay quite helpless and in thebitterness of great consternation. Rupert found my revolver, drew it outwith a gibe, and handed it to Rischenheim, who was now standing besidehim. Then he felt the box, he drew it out, his eyes sparkled. He sethis knee hard on my chest, so that I could scarcely breathe; then heventured to loose my throat, and tore the box open eagerly.

  "Bring a light here," he cried. Another ruffian came with adark-lantern, whose glow he turned on the box. Rupert opened it, andwhen he saw what was inside, he laughed again, and stowed it away in hispocket.

  "Quick, quick!" urged Rischenheim. "We've got what we wanted, andsomebody may come at any moment."

  A brief hope comforted me. The loss of the box was a calamity, but Iwould pardon fortune if only the letter escaped capture. Rupert mighthave suspected that I carried some such token as the box, but he couldnot know of the letter. Would he listen to Rischenheim? No. The Count ofHentzau did things thoroughly.

  "We may as well overhaul him a bit more," said he, and resumed hissearch. My hope vanished, for now he was bound to come upon the letter.

  Another instant brought him to it. He snatched the pocketbook, and,motioning impatiently to the man to hold the lantern nearer, he began toexamine the contents. I remember well the look of his face as the fiercewhite light threw it up against the darkness in its clear pallor andhigh-bred comeliness, with its curling lips and scornful eyes. He hadthe letter now, and a gleam of joy danced in his eyes as he tore itopen. A hasty glance showed him what his prize was; then, coolly anddeliberately he settled himself to read, regarding neither Rischenheim'snervous hurry nor my desperate, angry glance that glared up at him. Heread leisurely, as though he had been in an armchair in his own house;the lips smiled and curled as he read the last words that the queen hadwritten to her lover. He had indeed come on more than he thought.

  Rischenheim laid a hand on his shoulder.

  "Quick, Rupert, quick," he urged again, in a voice full of agitation.

  "Let me alone, man. I haven't read anything so amusing for a longwhile," answered Rupert. Then he burst into a laugh, crying, "Look,look!" and pointing to the foot of the last page of the letter. I wasmad with anger; my fury gave me new strength. In his enjoyment of whathe read Rupert had grown careless; his knee pressed more lightly on me,and as he showed Rischenheim the passage in the letter that caused himso much amusement he turned his head away for an instant. My chancehad come. With a sudden movement I displaced him, and with a desperatewrench I freed my right hand. Darting it out, I snatched at the letter.Rupert, alarmed for his treasure, sprang back and off me. I also sprangup on my feet, hurling away the fellow who had gripped my other hand.For a moment I stood facing Rupert; then I darted on him. He was tooquick for me; he dodged behind the man with the lantern and hurled thefellow forward against me. The lantern fell on the ground.

  "Give me your stick!" I heard Rupert say. "Where is it? That's right!"

  Then came Rischenheim's voice again, imploring and timid:

  "Rupert, you promised not to kill him."

  The only answer was a short, fierce laugh. I hurled away the man who hadbeen thrust into my arms and sprang forward. I saw Rupert of Hentzau;his hand was raised above his head and held a stout club. I do notknow what followed; there came--all in a confused blur of instantsequence--an oath from Rupert, a rush from me, a scuffle, as though someone sought to hold him back; then he was on me; I felt a great thud onmy forehead, and I felt nothing more. Again I was on my back, with aterrible pain in my head, and a dull, dreamy consciousness of a knot ofmen standing over me
, talking eagerly to one another.

  I could not hear what they were saying; I had no great desire to hear. Ifancied, somehow, that they were talking about me; they looked at me andmoved their hands towards me now and again. I heard Rupert's laugh, andsaw his club poised over me; then Rischenheim caught him by the wrist. Iknow now that Rischenheim was reminding his cousin that he had promisednot to kill me, that Rupert's oath did not weigh a straw in the scales,but that he was held back only by a doubt whether I alive or my deadbody would be more inconvenient to dispose of. Yet then I did notunderstand, but lay there listless. And presently the talking formsseemed to cease their talking; they grew blurred and dim, running intoone another, and all mingling together to form one great shapelesscreature that seemed to murmur and gibber over me, some such monsteras a man sees in his dreams. I hated to see it, and closed my eyes; itsmurmurings and gibberings haunted my ears for awhile, making me restlessand unhappy; then they died away. Their going made me happy; I sighed incontentment; and everything became as though it were not.

  Yet I had one more vision, breaking suddenly across my unconsciousness.A bold, rich voice rang out, "By God, I will!"

  "No, no," cried another. Then, "What's that?" There was a rush of feet,the cries of men who met in anger or excitement, the crack of a shot andof another quickly following, oaths, and scuffling. Then came the soundof feet flying. I could not make it out; I grew weary with the puzzle ofit. Would they not be quiet? Quiet was what I wanted. At last they grewquiet; I closed my eyes again. The pain was less now; they were quiet; Icould sleep.

  When a man looks back on the past, reviewing in his mind the chancesFortune has given and the calls she has made, he always torments himselfby thinking that he could have done other and better than in fact hedid. Even now I lie awake at night sometimes, making clever plans bywhich I could have thwarted Rupert's schemes. In these musings I am veryacute; Anton von Strofzin's idle talk furnishes me with many a clue,and I draw inferences sure and swift as a detective in the story books.Bauer is my tool, I am not his. I lay Rischenheim by the heels, sendRupert howling off with a ball in his arm, and carry my precious burdenin triumph to Mr. Rassendyll. By the time I have played the whole game Iam indeed proud of myself. Yet in truth--in daylight truth--I fear that,unless Heaven sent me a fresh set of brains, I should be caught in muchthe same way again. Though not by that fellow Bauer, I swear! Well,there it was. They had made a fool of me. I lay on the road with abloody head, and Rupert of Hentzau had the queen's letter.