Rupert of Hentzau: From The Memoirs of Fritz Von Tarlenheim

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER XIII. A KING UP HIS SLEEVE

  The tall handsome girl was taking down the shutters from the shop frontat No. 19 in the Konigstrasse. She went about her work languidly enough,but there was a tinge of dusky red on her cheeks and her eyes werebrightened by some suppressed excitement. Old Mother Holf, leaningagainst the counter, was grumbling angrily because Bauer did not come.Now it was not likely that Bauer would come just yet, for he was stillin the infirmary attached to the police-cells, where a couple of doctorswere very busy setting him on his legs again. The old woman knew nothingof this, but only that he had gone the night before to reconnoitre;where he was to play the spy she did not know, on whom perhaps sheguessed.

  "You're sure he never came back?" she asked her daughter.

  "He never came back that I saw," answered the girl. "And I was on thewatch with my lamp here in the shop till it grew light."

  "He's twelve hours gone now, and never a message! Ay, and Count Rupertshould be here soon, and he'll be in a fine taking if Bauer's not back."

  The girl made no answer; she had finished her task and stood in thedoorway, looking out on the street. It was past eight, and many peoplewere about, still for the most part humble folk; the more comfortablyplaced would not be moving for an hour or two yet. In the road thetraffic consisted chiefly of country carts and wagons, bringing inproduce for the day's victualling of the great city. The girl watchedthe stream, but her thoughts were occupied with the stately gentlemanwho had come to her by night and asked a service of her. She had heardthe revolver shot outside; as it sounded she had blown out her lamp, andthere behind the door in the dark had heard the swiftly retreating feetof the fugitives and, a little later, the arrival of the patrol. Well,the patrol would not dare to touch the king; as for Bauer, let him bealive or dead: what cared she, who was the king's servant, able to helpthe king against his enemies? If Bauer were the king's enemy, right gladwould she be to hear that the rogue was dead. How finely the king hadcaught him by the neck and thrown him out! She laughed to think howlittle her mother knew the company she had kept that night.

  The row of country carts moved slowly by. One or two stopped before theshop, and the carters offered vegetables for sale. The old woman wouldhave nothing to say to them, but waved them on irritably. Three had thusstopped and again proceeded, and an impatient grumble broke from the oldlady as a fourth, a covered wagon, drew up before the door.

  "We don't want anything: go on, go on with you!" she cried shrilly.

  The carter got down from his seat without heeding her, and walked roundto the back.

  "Here you are, sir," he cried. "Nineteen, Konigstrasse."

  A yawn was heard, and the long sigh a man gives as he stretches himselfin the mingled luxury and pain of an awakening after sound refreshingsleep.

  "All right; I'll get down," came in answer from inside.

  "Ah, it's the count!" said the old lady to her daughter in satisfiedtones. "What will he say, though, about that rogue Bauer?"

  Rupert of Hentzau put his head out from under the wagon-tilt, looked upand down the street, gave the carter a couple of crowns, leapt down, andran lightly across the pavement into the little shop. The wagon movedon.

  "A lucky thing I met him," said Rupert cheerily. "The wagon hid me verywell; and handsome as my face is, I can't let Strelsau enjoy too much ofit just now. Well, mother, what cheer? And you, my pretty, how goes itwith you?" He carelessly brushed the girl's cheek with the glove thathe had drawn off. "Faith, though, I beg your pardon." he added a momentlater, "the glove's not clean enough for that," and he looked at hisbuff glove, which was stained with patches of dull rusty brown.

  "It's all as when you left, Count Rupert," said Mother Holf, "exceptthat that rascal Bauer went out last night--"

  "That's right enough. But hasn't he returned?"

  "No, not yet."

  "Hum. No signs of--anybody else?" His look defined the vague question.

  The old woman shook her head. The girl turned away to hide a smile."Anybody else" meant the king, so she suspected. Well, they should hearnothing from her. The king himself had charged her to be silent.

  "But Rischenheim has come, I suppose?" pursued Rupert.

  "Oh, yes; he came, my lord, soon after you went. He wears his arm in asling."

  "Ah!" cried Rupert in sudden excitement. "As I guessed! The devil! Ifonly I could do everything myself, and not have to trust to fools andbunglers! Where's the count?"

  "Why, in the attic. You know the way."

  "True. But I want some breakfast, mother."

  "Rosa shall serve you at once, my lord."

  The girl followed Rupert up the narrow crazy staircase of the tall oldhouse. They passed three floors, all uninhabited; a last steep flightthat brought them right under the deep arched roof. Rupert opened a doorthat stood at the top of the stairs, and, followed still by Rosa withher mysterious happy smile, entered a long narrow room. The ceiling,high in the centre, sloped rapidly down on either side, so that at doorand window it was little more than six feet above the floor. There wasan oak table and a few chairs; a couple of iron bedsteads stood by thewall near the window. One was empty; the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim layon the other, fully dressed, his right arm supported in a sling of blacksilk. Rupert paused on the threshold, smiling at his cousin; the girlpassed on to a high press or cupboard, and, opening it, took out plates,glasses, and the other furniture of the table. Rischenheim sprang up andran across the room.

  "What news?" he cried eagerly. "You escaped them, Rupert?"

  "It appears so," said Rupert airily; and, advancing into the room, hethrew himself into a chair, tossing his hat on to the table.

  "It appears that I escaped, although some fool's stupidity nearly madean end of me." Rischenheim flushed.

  "I'll tell you about that directly," he said, glancing at the girl whohad put some cold meat and a bottle of wine on the table, and wasnow completing the preparations for Rupert's meal in a very leisurelyfashion.

  "Had I nothing to do but to look at pretty faces--which, by Heaven,I wish heartily were the case--I would beg you to stay," said Rupert,rising and making her a profound bow.

  "I've no wish to hear what doesn't concern me," she retorted scornfully.

  "What a rare and blessed disposition!" said he, holding the door for herand bowing again.

  "I know what I know," she cried to him triumphantly from the landing."Maybe you'd give something to know it too, Count Rupert!"

  "It's very likely, for, by Heaven, girls know wonderful things!" smiledRupert; but he shut the door and came quickly back to the table, nowfrowning again. "Come, tell me, how did they make a fool of you, or whydid you make a fool of me, cousin?"

  While Rischenheim related how he had been trapped and tricked at theCastle of Zenda, Rupert of Hentzau made a very good breakfast. Heoffered no interruption and no comments, but when Rudolf Rassendyll cameinto the story he looked up for an instant with a quick jerk of his headand a sudden light in his eyes. The end of Rischenheim's narrative foundhim tolerant and smiling again.

  "Ah, well, the snare was cleverly set," he said. "I don't wonder youfell into it."

  "And now you? What happened to you?" asked Rischenheim eagerly.

  "I? Why, having your message which was not your message, I obeyed yourdirections which were not your directions."

  "You went to the lodge?"

  "Certainly."

  "And you found Sapt there?--Anybody else?"

  "Why, not Sapt at all."

  "Not Sapt? But surely they laid a trap for you?"

  "Very possibly, but the jaws didn't bite." Rupert crossed his legs andlit a cigarette.

  "But what did you find?"

  "I? I found the king's forester, and the king's boar-hound, and--well, Ifound the king himself, too."

  "The king at the lodge?"

  "You weren't so wrong as you thought, were you?"

  "But surely Sapt, or Bernenstein, or some one was with him?"

  "As I tell you, his fo
rester and his boar-hound. No other man or beast,on my honor."

  "Then you gave him the letter?" cried Rischenheim, trembling withexcitement.

  "Alas, no, my dear cousin. I threw the box at him, but I don't think hehad time to open it. We didn't get to that stage of the conversation atwhich I had intended to produce the letter."

  "But why not--why not?"

  Rupert rose to his feet, and, coming just opposite to where Rischenheimsat, balanced himself on his heels, and looked down at his cousin,blowing the ash from his cigarette and smiling pleasantly.

  "Have you noticed," he asked, "that my coat's torn?"

  "I see it is."

  "Yes. The boar-hound tried to bite me, cousin. And the forester wouldhave stabbed me. And--well, the king wanted to shoot me."

  "Yes, yes! For God's sake, what happened?"

  "Well, they none of them did what they wanted. That's what happened,dear cousin."

  Rischenheim was staring at him now with wide-opened eyes. Rupert smileddown on him composedly.

  "Because, you see," he added, "Heaven helped me. So that, my dearcousin, the dog will bite no more, and the forester will stab no more.Surely the country is well rid of them?"

  A silence followed. Then Rischenheim, leaning forward, said in a lowwhisper, as though afraid to hear his own question:

  "And the king?"

  "The king? Well, the king will shoot no more."

  For a moment Rischenheim, still leaning forward, gazed at his cousin.Then he sank slowly back into his chair.

  "My God!" he murmured: "my God!"

  "The king was a fool," said Rupert. "Come, I'll tell you a little moreabout it." He drew a chair up and seated himself in it.

  While he talked Rischenheim seemed hardly to listen. The story gained ineffect from the contrast of Rupert's airy telling; his companion's paleface and twitching hands tickled his fancy to more shameless jesting.But when he had finished, he gave a pull to his small smartly-curledmoustache and said with a sudden gravity:

  "After all, though, it's a serious matter."

  Rischenheim was appalled at the issue. His cousin's influence had beenstrong enough to lead him into the affair of the letter; he was aghastto think how Rupert's reckless dare-deviltry had led on from stage tostage till the death of a king seemed but an incident in his schemes. Hesprang suddenly to his feet, crying:

  "But we must fly--we must fly!"

  "No, we needn't fly. Perhaps we'd better go, but we needn't fly."

  "But when it becomes known?" He broke off and then cried:

  "Why did you tell me? Why did you come back here?"

  "Well, I told you because it was interesting, and I came back herebecause I had no money to go elsewhere."

  "I would have sent money."

  "I find that I get more when I ask in person. Besides, is everythingfinished?"

  "I'll have no more to do with it."

  "Ah, my dear cousin, you despond too soon. The good king has unhappilygone from us, but we still have our dear queen. We have also, by thekindness of Heaven, our dear queen's letter."

  "I'll have no more to do with it."

  "Your neck feeling--?" Rupert delicately imitated the putting of a nooseabout a man's throat.

  Rischenheim rose suddenly and flung the window open wide.

  "I'm suffocated," he muttered with a sullen frown, avoiding Rupert'seyes.

  "Where's Rudolf Rassendyll?" asked Rupert. "Have you heard of him?"

  "No, I don't know where he is."

  "We must find that out, I think."

  Rischenheim turned abruptly on him.

  "I had no hand in this thing," he said, "and I'll have no more to dowith it. I was not there. What did I know of the king being there? I'mnot guilty of it: on my soul, I know nothing of it."

  "That's all very true," nodded Rupert.

  "Rupert," cried he, "let me go, let me alone. If you want money, I'llgive it to you. For God's sake take it, and get out of Strelsau!"

  "I'm ashamed to beg, my dear cousin, but in fact I want a little moneyuntil I can contrive to realize my valuable property. Is it safe, Iwonder? Ah, yes, here it is."

  He drew from his inner pocket the queen's letter. "Now if the kinghadn't been a fool!" he murmured regretfully, as he regarded it.

  Then he walked across to the window and looked out; he could not himselfbe seen from the street, and nobody was visible at the windows opposite.Men and women passed to and fro on their daily labors or pleasures;there was no unusual stir in the city. Looking over the roofs, Rupertcould see the royal standard floating in the wind over the palace andthe barracks. He took out his watch; Rischenheim imitated his action; itwas ten minutes to ten.

  "Rischenheim," he called, "come here a moment. Here--look out."

  Rischenheim obeyed, and Rupert let him look for a minute or two beforespeaking again.

  "Do you see anything remarkable?" he asked then.

  "No, nothing," answered Rischenheim, still curt and sullen in hisfright.

  "Well, no more do I. And that's very odd. For don't you think that Saptor some other of her Majesty's friends must have gone to the lodge lastnight?"

  "They meant to, I swear," said Rischenheim with sudden attention.

  "Then they would have found the king. There's a telegraph wire atHofbau, only a few miles away. And it's ten o'clock. My cousin, whyisn't Strelsau mourning for our lamented king? Why aren't the flags athalf-mast? I don't understand it."

  "No," murmured Rischenheim, his eyes now fixed on his cousin's face.

  Rupert broke into a smile and tapped his teeth with his fingers.

  "I wonder," said he meditatively, "if that old player Sapt has got aking up his sleeve again! If that were so--" He stopped and seemed tofall into deep thought. Rischenheim did not interrupt him, but stoodlooking now at him, now out of the window. Still there was no stir inthe streets, and still the standards floated at the summit of the flagstaffs. The king's death was not yet known in Strelsau.

  "Where's Bauer?" asked Rupert suddenly. "Where the plague can Bauer be?He was my eyes. Here we are, cooped up, and I don't know what's goingon."

  "I don't know where he is. Something must have happened to him."

  "Of course, my wise cousin. But what?"

  Rupert began to pace up and down the room, smoking another cigarette ata great pace. Rischenheim sat down by the table, resting his head onhis hand. He was wearied out by strain and excitement, his wounded armpained him greatly, and he was full of horror and remorse at the eventwhich happened unknown to him the night before.

  "I wish I was quit of it," he moaned at last. Rupert stopped before him.

  "You repent of your misdeeds?" he asked. "Well, then, you shall beallowed to repent. Nay, you shall go and tell the king that you repent.Rischenheim, I must know what they are doing. You must go and ask anaudience of the king."

  "But the king is--"

  "We shall know that better when you've asked for your audience. Seehere."

  Rupert sat down by his cousin and instructed him in his task. This wasno other than to discover whether there were a king in Strelsau, orwhether the only king lay dead in the hunting lodge. If there were noattempt being made to conceal the king's death, Rupert's plan was toseek safety in flight. He did not abandon his designs: from the securevantage of foreign soil he would hold the queen's letter over her head,and by the threat of publishing it insure at once immunity for himselfand almost any further terms which he chose to exact from her. If, onthe other hand, the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim found a king in Strelsau,if the royal standards continued to wave at the summit of their flagstaffs, and Strelsau knew nothing of the dead man in the lodge, thenRupert had laid his hand on another secret; for he knew who the king inStrelsau must be. Starting from this point, his audacious mind dartedforward to new and bolder schemes. He could offer again to RudolfRassendyll what he had offered once before, three years ago--apartnership in crime and the profits of crime--or if this advance wererefused, then he declared that he would h
imself descend openly into thestreets of Strelsau and proclaim the death of the king from the steps ofthe cathedral.

  "Who can tell," he cried, springing up, enraptured and merry with theinspiration of his plan, "who can tell whether Sapt or I came first tothe lodge? Who found the king alive, Sapt or I? Who left him dead, Saptor I? Who had most interest in killing him--I, who only sought to makehim aware of what touched his honor, or Sapt, who was and is hand andglove with the man that now robs him of his name and usurps his placewhile his body is still warm? Ah, they haven't done with Rupert ofHentzau yet!"

  He stopped, looking down on his companion. Rischenheim's fingers stilltwitched nervously and his cheeks were pale. But now his face was alightwith interest and eagerness. Again the fascination of Rupert's audacityand the infection of his courage caught on his kinsman's weaker nature,and inspired him to a temporary emulation of the will that dominatedhim.

  "You see," pursued Rupert, "it's not likely that they'll do you anyharm."

  "I'll risk anything."

  "Most gallant gentleman! At the worst they'll only keep you a prisoner.Well, if you're not back in a couple of hours, I shall draw myconclusions. I shall know that there's a king in Strelsau."

  "But where shall I look for the king?"

  "Why, first in the palace, and secondly at Fritz von Tarlenheim's. Iexpect you'll find him at Fritz's, though."

  "Shall I go there first, then?"

  "No. That would be seeming to know too much."

  "You'll wait here?"

  "Certainly, cousin--unless I see cause to move, you know."

  "And I shall find you on my return?"

  "Me, or directions from me. By the way, bring money too. There's neverany harm in having a full pocket. I wonder what the devil does without abreeches-pocket?"

  Rischenheim let that curious speculation alone, although he rememberedthe whimsical air with which Rupert delivered it. He was now on fire tobe gone, his ill-balanced brain leaping from the depths of despondencyto the certainty of brilliant success, and not heeding the gulf ofdanger that it surpassed in buoyant fancy.

  "We shall have them in a corner, Rupert," he cried.

  "Ay, perhaps. But wild beasts in a corner bite hard."

  "I wish my arm were well!"

  "You'll be safer with it wounded," said Rupert with a smile.

  "By God, Rupert, I can defend myself."

  "True, true; but it's your brain I want now, cousin."

  "You shall see that I have something in me."

  "If it please God, dear cousin."

  With every mocking encouragement and every careless taunt Rischenheim'sresolve to prove himself a man grew stronger. He snatched up a revolverthat lay on the mantelpiece and put it in his pocket.

  "Don't fire, if you can help it," advised Rupert. Rischenheim's answerwas to make for the door at a great speed. Rupert watched him go, andthen returned to the window. The last his cousin saw was his figurestanding straight and lithe against the light, while he looked outon the city. Still there was no stir in the streets, still the royalstandard floated at the top of the flag staffs.

  Rischenheim plunged down the stairs: his feet were too slow for hiseagerness. At the bottom he found the girl Rosa sweeping the passagewith great apparent diligence.

  "You're going out, my lord?" she asked.

  "Why, yes; I have business. Pray stand on one side, this passage is socursedly narrow."

  Rosa showed no haste in moving.

  "And the Count Rupert, is he going out also?" she asked.

  "You see he's not with me. He'll wait." Rischenheim broke off and askedangrily: "What business is it of yours, girl? Get out of the way!"

  She moved aside now, making him no answer. He rushed past; she lookedafter him with a smile of triumph. Then she fell again to her sweeping.The king had bidden her be ready at eleven. It was half-past ten. Soonthe king would have need of her.