CHAPTER NINE
_PAULINE_
Anthony Trent met Pauline in rather a curious way. He had been a week atCastle Radna and had not been commanded to drive the count. Then Hentzihad informed him Count Michael was sick of a bad cold. Sissek by virtueof being senior in the Temesvar service tried to get the new man to helphim with his own cars but Trent absolutely declined.
He had assumed a certain post in order to carry out a design but hisduties lay with the Lion car and he left the Croatian grumbling and setout for a tour of inspection. Naturally his steps led him to the littlegolf course a mile distant. There were no long holes and the course washardly trapped at all. It was just the kind of place elderly men, whoplayed a weak game, would revel in.
By the first tee was a little rustic pavilion. Through the windows Trentcould see three or four golf bags. The temptation was too strong toresist. He picked the locks with the blade of a pocket knife and foundhimself in a comfortable room. The count's golf bag contained excellentclubs and plenty of balls. He looked at the balls and knew the count'sgame instantly. They were bitten into by the irons of a strong man.Trent shuddered at the gashes and then, selecting a new ball and aputter and driver went out on the nearby green. It was sheltered fromall observation and he putted for a few minutes.
In the distance he could see the first green. It looked to be a littleunder three hundred yards distant; and it lay beneath, sweetly temptingto a long driver.
Anthony Trent had for some years now lived a life in which he deniedhimself nothing. He had reached out for such treasures as only amillionaire may buy. The question of right or wrong in the matter ofusing his employer's clubs bothered him little. He did not want to beobserved in case the privilege were denied him.
He teed up his ball, made a few preliminary swings and then struck thewhite sphere with perfectly timed strength. He watched it rise, fall androll almost to the edge of the green. He would certainly make it inthree.
Then he turned round to look into the astonished face of a verybeautiful woman. There was something in the general effect, quicklyseen, which reminded him of Lady Daphne; but as he looked he saw thisgirl was older. He doubted the genuineness of the golden hair and he sawthat art had aided nature in the facial make-up. But she was no morethan eight and twenty and her figure differed from Daphne's slim, almostboyish slightness. She was dressed in a curious shade of green. It was atint he thought he had never seen before until he looked into her eyesand saw it there reflected.
Pauline had known the count had engaged a chauffeur from London but sheassumed him to be of the usual type. She had no idea that the man whohad just made such a superb drive was he. Pauline had been used to muchsocial enjoyment of a sort and while Count Michael had been away she hadto behave circumspectly. She was dull and she was bored; and now, asthough an answer to prayer, Fate had sent her a handsome young man whostood like a bronze statue as he followed the flight of the ball.
Since the count had given permission for the families of theneighbouring landowners to use his course she imagined it to be one ofthese or perhaps a guest at some local mansion.
Anthony Trent was never one who made a habit of the pursuit of the fair.His profession had taught him caution. Almost always the feminineelement had brought the great criminals to peril. There had been one ortwo harmless flirtations but his love for Daphne was the great affair ofhis life. He groaned when he looked into Pauline's bold eyes and sawadmiration looking from them. Other women had looked at him like that.Pauline was absolute at Castle Radna. Her enmity might be very harmful.Her friendship might be ruinous.
He assumed the bearing of Alfred Anthony which he had abandonedunconsciously. He even touched his cap to the lady as a servant whohabitually wears livery should do. She frowned as he did so.
"Who are you?" she said in German.
"I'm the new chauffeur, miss," he returned in English.
"What are you doing here, then?"
"Having a bit of a game," he said with an air of timidity. "I hope youwon't tell the guv'nor."
"The guv'nor?" she repeated.
"The count," he said, "the old toff with the beard."
Trent produced a Woodbine and lighted it luxuriously. He had all thequick nervous gestures of the cockney.
"Where did you learn to play golf like that?" she asked, looking at thewhite speck almost three hundred yards distant.
"Anyone can make a fluky drive," he said, "one drive doesn't make agolfer, Miss. I used to be a caddie at the Royal Surrey Club."
"Then you can carry my clubs," she said. She looked at him with a frown."How is it the door is open?"
"Someone must have forgot to shut it," Trent said simply. "I just walkedin."
All his excuses to get back to his garage were ineffectual.
"You will understand later," she said imperiously, "that if I order aservant to obey me he must do so. I wish you to teach me to play bettergolf. I shall pay you."
"I'll be glad to have a little extra money to send the mis'sus," saidTrent cheerfully.
"That means you are married, eh?" she said.
"You've 'it it," he smiled.
He misjudged Pauline if he thought this would have any effect upon her.She was a specialist in husbands, an expert in emotional reactions.
Pauline played a very fair game. She had not been properly taught. Butshe was strong and lithe and although she had begun the game in order tokeep her figure she played it now because she liked it. When she hadperformed professionally in London and big provincial cities she hadseen that efficiency in some sport or another was _de rigueur_ amongwomen of importance and she hankered after the social recognition thatunusual skill at sports often brought with it.
"Make another such drive," she commanded after she had driven only ahundred yards. "Not like mine, but like your first."
Trent having committed himself to a term of caddiedom at a great clubwhere caddies have risen to the heights as professionals, he was notcompelled to play a bad game. Pauline had never seen such golf and sheworshipped bodily skill at games or sports more than any mentalattainments. His short approaches amazed her. The skill with which at ahundred yards he could drop on a green and remain there with the backspin on the ball seemed miraculous.
"I shall play every day," she decided, "and you shall tell me how tobecome a great player."
"What about me and my motor?" he objected, "I came to drive a car andnot a golf ball."
"I shall arrange it," she said, "Peter Sissek can drive."
"Not my car," he cried, "I'm not going to have no blooming mucker likehim drive my Lion."
Her green eyes were narrowed when she looked at him.
"There are a hundred men who would give all they had for such anopportunity," she said slowly.
"Let 'em," he said quickly, "I'm a chauffeur and mechanic."
At the last hole she made a poor topped drive and the ball landed in abad lie. It was an awkward stroke and he corrected her stance and evenshowed her how to grip the club when suddenly he was struck a tremendousblow on the back of the head. He was thrown off his balance but was uplike a cat, dazed a little but anxious to see what had hit him. Hethought it was a golf ball. It was Count Michael instead. He looked morelike Francis the First than ever. His eyes were blazing with anger. Hehad stolen upon them unaware at a moment when Trent's hand was holdingthe white hand of Pauline as he tried to explain the grip.
The count was too angry to understand the look that Trent threw at himor to realize how nearly the pseudo-chauffeur lost control of himself.But Trent pulled himself together, dissembled his wrath, remembered hismission, and even presented a rueful but free from resentmentappearance.
"'Ere guv'nor," he cried, "steady on! I 'aven't done anythink."
"It is you I blame," the count said to Pauline. He spoke in German andignored Alfred Anthony. "Why is it unknown to me you bring my servant toplay with you?"
Certainly Pauline had no fear of the magnate.
"Because he has been a professio
nal caddie and plays so well I can learnthe game. Since your game is contemptible with whom can I play here?"
"I beat Hentzi every time," stormed the Count.
"Hentzi," she laughed, "he is afraid of you. I am not. This man isuseful. I have told him he is to carry my clubs when I play. Do youobject to that?"
"By no means," the count said becoming more amiable. "I see noobjection; but as he has two arms he can carry mine also. He is a _beaugarcon_ Pauline and I do not permit his filthy fingers to touch the handI kiss." He turned to Trent. "How is it you are here and not at yourwork?"
"I took a bit of a walk," Trent answered.
"And finding him near the pavilion I told him to carry my clubs,"Pauline added in English. "What is strange in that?"
Sissek with a Fiat car was waiting by the pavilion. He had driven hismaster down and took Pauline back as well. He did not understand why thenew man was carrying golf clubs. He brightened when the count spoke tohim in rapid Croatian.
"I am telling him," the count said, "that there is plenty of work foryou to do. He will find it if you cannot. And as Peter is very strongand as short tempered as his lord I bid you be careful."
Trent's temper was not sufficiently under control to keep a sneer fromhis face.
His grin was superbly insolent. He forgot his cockney accent and hisacquired vocabulary.
"I'm afraid," he said, "you are not as good a judge of men as you are ofwomen."
"What is this you say?" the count demanded frowning.
"I mean that if your fool-faced Peter there can make me do anythingagainst my will he shall have _my_ salary as well as his own. You camebehind me when I wasn't looking and hit me. I can't resent that--yet,but warn him if he tries anything on me like that I'll--" He pausedconscious of having said too much and aware that Pauline was gazing athim with vivid interest. "I'll make him sorry." Trent felt it was a weakending.
"He is funny, this new chauffeur from London is he not Pauline?"
But Pauline had a mischievous idea. She spoke to Peter Sissek, thatpowerful and jealous servant, and he flashed a look of hatred at Trent.He thoroughly believed that the new man had indeed made the insultingremarks Pauline ascribed to him.
"Michael," said Pauline caressingly, "let us see what this bold man woulddo if Peter threatened him. We will not let Peter hurt him but it willbe a lesson." Pauline knew men and she saw in Trent one who could noteasily be forced to do anything.
Poor Peter Sissek urged by his master to avenge himself upon this hatedalien rushed to his fate. In a way Trent was sorry. He had no realgrievance against the man. But Peter was immensely strong and spurred onby a lively hatred. It was his idea to get his long arms about theslenderer man and throw him to the ground and there beat his sneeringface in. He was stopped in his rush by a stinging left jab which caughthim square on an eye. While he stood still in amazement another blowfell, this time on his nose.
The big man paused in angry amazement that one built so much moreslenderly than he could hit with this terrific force. Pauline leanedforward her lips parted and the red flush of excitement victor overart's rouge. She was a woman of violent loves and hates and had urgedmany a love sick swain into unequal contest for amusement's sake.Although Trent had attracted her she was not sure that she did not wantto see Sissek punish him. He had paid as little attention to her charmsas though he thought she was old and ugly.
As she looked at the foreigner she noted that his face had changed. Helooked keen, hawklike, dangerous. It would have been wiser for AnthonyTrent had he allowed Peter Sissek to triumph.
Then, suddenly, Peter made a rush. He put down his bullet head andjumped at his man. Anthony Trent saw the opportunity for as pretty anupper-cut as one might need. For Peter Sissek it was the whole starryfirmament in its splendor that showed itself, and then the night camedown.
"He has killed Peter!" the count roared.
"That is not death," Pauline said clapping her hands.
For an uneasy moment the count remembered that not many minutes earlierhe had buffetted this quiet, grim fighter, this same man who hit hisopponent at will and evaded his enemy's blows with practised ease. TheseEnglish speaking peoples with their odd notions of independence andtheir skill with their brutal fists were dangerous. It might well bethat even he, Michael Temesvar had best remember his new chauffeur wasnot docile like Peter Sissek and the others.
"This is murder!" the count said still angrily.
"He'll come to," Trent said carelessly. "Shall I drive you back?"
"No," said the count. He looked coldly at the man who had charge of theLion. But Trent knew very well that the anger in his face was not fromany sympathy with Peter Sissek. It was the thought that Pauline haddeceived him and that this young man was too skillful in too many waysthat annoyed the aristocrat.
"I will send a car back," Count Michael asserted, "meanwhile stay withthe man you have so cruelly assaulted."
Peter Sissek awoke to consciousness a few seconds later and looked withdifficulty on the world. His nose was cut, an eye was closed and his carwas gone. He made strange outcries and became so excited that Trent witha black look bade him be silent. Sissek knew what was meant and startedat a run along the road.
Trent was not so sure he had done well that morning. He had angered thecount. Well, such anger would probably pass under ordinary conditions.He had interested that magnificent animal Pauline, reigning favorite,and autocrat, and Pauline was not discreet. Sooner or later the countwould see the way she looked at his chauffeur and then the game would beup. He would be sent back to London his mission a failure. To getPauline's enmity would be fatal, too. She would not hesitate to ruin aman she hated and the count would always believe her word against thatof Alfred Anthony. The American sat on the edge of the first tee andcursed all irregularly run establishments. He looked up presently to seethe car returning. It was driven by Hentzi.
"What is this I hear?" Hentzi said severely.
"I don't give a damn what you have heard," Trent said crossly.
"What? You talk like this to me?"
"To you or anyone else," Trent retorted. "Look here, my little man, Icame here to look after a high powered car and risk my neck on mountainpasses. All right. I'm agreeable. But if you or anyone else thinks I'm agolf caddie or a footman or a servile beast like Sissek you're allmistaken. I'm a good mechanic and I can drive a car against almostanyone but I'm not going to stand for oppression. The count hit me."Anthony Trent patted himself on the chest as the enormity of the offencegrew larger, "he hit _me_!"
"You talk as though you were a gentleman," Hentzi said coldly. "Myfriend you are of the people and you have read too much. You probablythink you are my equal. It is an honor to serve a Temesvar but if youare anxious to go to your own country I have no doubt your company cansend another man."
"There's no need for that," Trent said less irascibly, "but what makesPauline think I'm going to carry her clubs around when I've got my ownwork to do?"
"So that was it," Hentzi commented. "That was why Count Michael stormedat me so. My good Alfred, you are young and life is sweet. I counsel youto remember that always while you are at Radna. The Temesvars havealways been hot headed. You see that steep cliff yonder?"
Trent looked above him to where the side of a mountain was cut sosharply that a drop of four hundred feet would be the lot of onestepping from the edge.
"That has been the scene of many tragedies," Hentzi said, "many men havestepped into space."
"Murdered?" Trent demanded.
"Accidents," Hentzi assured him, "unfortunate accidents. There was onelamentable occurrence not many years ago and he was a fellow countrymanof yours by the way. A man of great personal distinction. But these arenot for you, these reminiscences of high life. What will interest you isthat the count says you can no longer live with the Sisseks. He doesnot want two valuable servants to kill one another. Room will be madefor you at the Castle. That pleases you, eh?"
"Yes," Trent said, conscious that his look of t
riumph had puzzledHentzi. "I do not like Mrs. Sissek's cooking."
In reality he was delighted. Here he was to be taken into the Castlewithout having to make an effort. It was the first step. It would bestrange if one as skilled and silent as he could not soon have everydetail of the house at his command. He knew the servants drank theirnative spirits, brandies, made of cherries, apricots and plums. Thisassured sound sleep and unlimited opportunities. The count was a greatdrinker, too, and his guests feasted well.
As if in conspiracy against him the major domo, chief of the indoorservants, put him in the least desirable of rooms, a rat-ridden chamberaway from the sleeping apartments of the rest of the help. In the heatof summer it would be unbearable. There was fortunately a great boltwhich barred the door from intruders. The one long, deep window openedinwards. An old square copper pipe used to drain the roof far abovepassed his window. He took hold of it and found it immovable. It wouldeasily support his weight. The ground lay twenty feet below. It was thewindows that this copper pipe passed which most interested Trent. Ifthey had catches similar to his own he could open them with a hair pin.He was eager for night to fall. And because he was now assured of actionhe became much more docile. He allowed Hentzi to lecture him severelyon his brutal behaviour.
During the next week he was worked so hard that he had littleopportunity, apart from his long journeys to Fiume, to do aught elsethan make a mental plan of the windows on his side of the castle. Therewere four apertures similar to that which gave light and air to hisroom. The heavy copper pipe passed by them all. To a gymnast with aclear head they were all within reach. The climb was probably lessdifficult than it would seem to an observer looking up from the ground.There was risk, of course, but Anthony Trent was always ready to takeit.
In the daily life of the servants' hall he noticed that the place had anenormous number of retainers, young and old, many more than seemednecessary. They were with a few exceptions sons and daughters of theTemesvar family, servants proud of their caste and the man they served.The major domo spoke German and French. He was a pompous person whoruled absolutely below stairs. He did not like the stranger but he hadbeen commanded not to allow any brawls and he saw to it the chauffeurwas let alone. There was much to eat and to drink. Count Michael ownedherds of swine which grazed in the miles of oak and beech forestssurrounding Castle Radna and the heady drinks that abounded were madefrom his own fruits by his own people.
As a rule the lower servants went early to bed. Those who remained uplater were the major domo and such of his men as waited upon thecount's table. There came a dark cloudy night when Anthony Trentwearing black sneakers and a dark suit free from white collar or cuffscrawled out of his dungeon-like window and up the twelve feet of pipingthat intervened between his own and the next window above. He foundhimself looking down into what he supposed was the great entrance hallof the castle. Just below him was a great seat raised above the halllevel on a platform of stone at the base of the fine sweep of stairway.
It was the official seat of the major domo. He could see the portlyservant in a sort of antique evening dress, white gloves on podgy handsand a gilt chain of office about his thick neck. Below were three orfour footmen in the maroon and canary of the Temesvars. They wereyawning as though weary of inactivity. Plainly Trent could not emerge afew feet above the major domo's head and in full view of the footmen.
A climb to the next embrasure revealed what at first seemed a checkmateto observation. He found on investigation that some great article offurniture was backed against the window. It was immovable. Another climband he was able to step through the easily opened window to a darkcorridor. Anthony Trent in a great silent house where danger anddisgrace would attend his discovery was in his element. He movedsilently, surely, and seemed possessed of a seventh sense. He had neverbefore professionally worked in such a vast rambling place as CastleRadna. It was not easy even for one trained as he to keep the plan ofthe place in mind. He found himself on a floor of bedrooms few of whichwere occupied.
He bent over one slumberer whose breath was strong with plum brandy andfound he had discovered Hentzi's bedroom. He, did not need to be veryquiet here. Underneath him was the floor where the main bedrooms wouldbe and he had an idea the count might keep his valuables there. It wasnecessary that he should be able to enter from the outside since thestairway leading down was brilliantly lighted from the main hall andstone stairway where the men servants seemed permanently stationed.
Trent had the ability to snatch sleep when he desired it. It was nowonly eleven o'clock. He crawled under Hentzi's bed and slumbered untilone. There was no danger of discovery. He did not snore and the man inthe upper berth would not wake till morning. Anthony Trent had made aprofound study of the value of snores in the determination of thetenacity with which the snorer clung to sleep.
When he shut Hentzi's door and stepped out into the corridor he saw thatthe lights had been extinguished below and he was free now to make hisway to the floor beneath. He tried no doors but went at once to theaperture covered by the article of furniture. It was a huge ebony_armoire_ inlaid with panels of tortoise-shell and ornamented byintricate designs of brass and ormolu. It was probably put in this spotfor the purposes of decoration and he picked the lock to prove himselfright. It was empty and there was space enough to stand upright in.
He felt it vandalism to break the back panel and feared once the loudcracking of wood might arouse the house. But there were few in CastleRadna who went without a nightcap. It took him almost two hours to hackan aperture that would admit him easily.
Then he slid down the pipe and went to bed. It was not easy to sleep. Hehad done very well so far. He was free of the house. With luck he couldcome and go at will during the still night hours. But the first step waseasy. Next to find where the count kept Lord Rosecarrel's treaty andthen to take it. And finally to get away with his treasure. He was notso much inclined to belittle the abilities of those other two who hadplanned and failed as he had been when he talked to the earl. He hadtaken due notice of Hentzi's reference to the death of an Englishman afew years ago who had met his fate at the base of the steep cliff-side.He felt almost certain that this was one of the men the earl had spokenof.
Lord Rosecarrel had said they set a trap for him into which none but aclever man would fall. He wished now he had asked particulars of it. Sofar Anthony Trent had escaped snares and the nets of hunters because hehad outguessed his opponents. Sometimes he told himself that in the endthe deadly law of averages would make him its victim. The pitcher wouldgo once too often to the well. These reflections while they made himmore than ever cautious did not lessen his zeal. Plainly it would beeasier to work a remote castle in Croatia than a New York mansionprotected by burglar alarms, night watchmen and detectives. Yet he hadalways succeeded so far in the face of these obstacles. But the addressand nerve which had carried him through many a tight pinch in New Yorkwould not avail him here.
More than once, clad in evening dress, he had joined excited groups ofguests and tried to capture himself. He had calmly taken his hat andcane from a footman and been bowed out of a house he had pillaged andonce Inspector McWalsh had carried to the door some priceless antiqueshe had taken from the very collection the Inspector and his men wereguarding.
Reflection showed him that Count Michael Temesvar was far too shrewd totrust the document that meant so much to him to insecure shelter.Despite the fact that the castle seemed filled with idle, drinking,overfed lackeys and he himself was unwatched, there must be someprecaution taken which would defeat him unless he trod warily.
It was his experience that rich men knew little of the vulnerability ofthe safes to which they entrusted their valuables. Again and again hehad been able to open such with ludicrous ease. Count Michael probablyhad an antique which would send a "peteman" into ecstacies of mirth.Trent's job was to locate it.
Next day he was commanded to accompany Pauline and the count to the golflinks. Pauline hardly looked at him but Count Michael watched himcontin
ually. He was relieved at the girl's attitude. She was beaten byher opponent and angry at it. The count was not a sportsman. He puttedover the easy bunkers and more than once he lifted his ball to a betterlie. The victory made him good humoured. His heavy bearded face waswreathed with smiles. Trent had the opportunity to observe him moreclosely than ever before. It was a bad, crafty face but it was notmerely the face of a pleasure loving fool. If rumor spoke rightly hewas, more than any other man, the prime mover in activities aimedagainst the English speaking peoples. From this same Castle of Radna hadissued many plots and subtle schemes all directed by this man who moveda golf ball with his foot when he thought none was looking.
Hentzi had told him that every European and American newspaper of notewas to be found in the count's library. It was odd that such a man wouldnot make some great city his home. He mentioned this once to Hentzi whomade the astonishing answer that the count dreaded assassination bypolitical enemies. Fearing perhaps he had said too much the secretaryadded that Count Michael had long ago abandoned politics for the life ofa great landowner and that such a fear was without foundation.
"It wouldn't be easy for a stranger to get in here, would it?" Trentdemanded carelessly.
The question seemed a most provoking one.
"Let such a one try," he returned smiling, "and he will see how wewelcome him here in Radna. You who are of another world would notunderstand."
"I suppose not," Trent said and talked of other things. But he was notreassured. He set himself to master the roads that led to safety. Theremight be the need to know them. He had not yet been down to Fiume alone.He wanted to find several places in the big port. There might be a timewhen he would have to send an order to the Lion works for spare parts.His code was elaborate and framed to meet all contingencies.
When he asked Hentzi why so few people stayed at the castle thesecretary's reply amazed him. Hentzi rather liked to impress thisamiable cockney. He was not without a sense of the melodramatic.
"My friend," he said with condescension, "there are more who take theirdinner in the big dining hall than you know. If it were your lot to bean indoor servant you would know what I mean. Castle Radna is at onetime a prison, a sanctuary and the abode of hospitality."
"I never understand what you're driving at Mr. Hentzi," Trent told him."I don't get your meaning half the time."
"I do not intend that you shall," Hentzi remarked. "And I do not adviseyou to seem curious. As it is you have displeased your master."
"Sissek started it," Trent reminded him.
"Sissek is a clod, a peasant, a man of no importance. I am not thinkingof Peter Sissek. I am thinking of Madame Pauline."
"That blond woman," Trent said with assumed carelessness. "What abouther?"
"She has praised your face and figure before one who, when he isjealous, kills."
"Me?" cried Trent with an air of astonishment, "why I only told her shewas a rotten golfer."
He groaned in spirit. His stay at Castle Radna was going to be verydifficult. Hentzi watching him closely only saw a face which expressedlittle interest. He was used now to sudden questioning by this volatilecockney.
"What do you mean by the castle being a prison?"
"I should have said that it has held many prisoners in bygone years, andsheltered many of the great. This is not like your English castles wherethe lord has no power. Look you, not a year ago we stayed, the count andI, at such a place. The owner struck a careless servant and was obligedto pay a fine before a judge. Think of it! An English lord haled intocourt by his own footman and fined. There is nothing like that here sowhen you are struck again do not think of an English policeman and afine. I wish you to stay. When Sissek drives down the mountain I amalways alarmed. You go twice as fast and I have no fear. Count Michaeldesires you to stay."
"I haven't said anything about going have I?" Trent retorted. Hesupposed Hentzi was trying to warn him not to look covetously at thehandsome Pauline. The warning troubled him. He was of a physical type towhich blonds of the Pauline type were invariably attracted.
"Many have died for her," Hentzi went on, "the young officers whoflocked to see her skate. There were scandals. She was sent away fromBerlin. She was in America, in England and Petrograd. She is cruel. I amafraid of her."
"I'm only a blooming chauffeur," Trent said carelessly, "and I wish Ihad never carried clubs at the Royal Surrey."
"You are also good looking," Hentzi said, "and of a superior type.Furthermore you are young and she has seen you play better than any manshe has met and she has seen you fight. I warn you."
"I've got a girl of my own in London," Trent said confidentially, "whois a fair knock out. My girl has the real gold on her sweet little headand the roses on her cheeks owe nothing to a bottle and her eyes aresometimes violet and sometimes dark blue and she is slim and has thoselong white hands one wants to kiss."
"Love has made you a poet," Hentzi said affably. It was well that he didnot notice that the cockney accent was for the moment abandoned. Hentziwas not a very close observer. He had only two profound emotions. Theone a fear of his employer, the other admiration for himself. Heconsidered Trent to be much impressed by his superior knowledge and,here a little and there a little, imparted much valuable information asto the castle, its inhabitants and their method of life. Heconsiderately pointed out the count's library, the room into which nostrangers had ever been bidden.
Anthony Trent, therefore, at one-thirty A.M. the next morning was betterequipped for exploration than on his previous venture. Hentzi had toldhim that so long as the count remained up a servant waited to attend onhim, old Ferencz by name. Trent remembered him at the servants' table asa surly old man who was silent and reserved and unpopular even among hisfellows. He was liable to meet this man at any time. Trent was glad theTemesvar men servants had not the same silent ways of the Rosecarrelmen. The men at Castle Radna walked heavily, lacking the thin shoes ofthe earl's servants, and talked loudly. There was little of the perfectdiscipline and service of the great English houses. It was due no doubtto the fact that the men were almost feudal retainers and not highlytrained servants going from country estate to town house with theseasons.
Almost the moment he stepped from his tall ebony _armoire_ Trent heardsteps coming toward him. He was at the moment passing a door. His passkey opened it instantly and he stepped into darkness and shut the doorcarefully. But he knew he was not alone. There was a heavy unrhythmicsnoring of a man far gone in sleep. As his eyes grew accustomed to thedarkness Trent saw the outlines of a big bed.
He passed the foot of it on hands and knees. The professional alwaystakes this precaution. A man waked from sleep by hearing a stranger atthe foot of his bed invariably aims at a man supposed to be standing up.Although the sounds Trent detected were genuine sleep induced snores hecould not be sure that another watchful occupant of the bed was notlistening breathlessly and even now reaching for a weapon.
When he assured himself everything was quiet he looked about the roomwith the light of his electric torch. The sleeping man was a stranger tohim. He was a red faced man of middle age and on a chair nearby was theundress uniform of an officer of high rank, a light blue uniform withsilver facings. Accustomed as he was to khaki uniform alone Trent had noidea to what European service the sleeper belonged. He rememberedHentzi's remark that there were more people at the dinner table than onemight suppose. Trent was certain he had never seen this officer aboutthe castle grounds and had never driven him.
From the bedroom a door led evidently to a room _en suite_. This wasunlocked and Trent entered noiselessly. It was a room twice the size ofthe adjoining apartment and furnished magnificently. So vast andsplendid was the chamber he thought it must be that of Count Michael, theroom where perchance the treaty lay concealed for which he had risked somuch. But it was not Count Michael who lay stertorously slumbering. Itwas instead a prince of a great and lately reigning family who hadstrangely disappeared from the world a few months earlier and had been,so report ran, drowne
d in escaping from exile.
Anthony Trent was looking at one, worthless in character and devoid ofability but nevertheless a man who might by reason of his name rallyabout him an army which could start again the dreadful struggle whosescars were yet fresh. A great ceremony had been made of the funeral anda society of his former officers had been organized to perpetuate hismemory by embarrassing his opponents. Trent remembered, dimly, readingan article in a London paper which spoke of the prince as being asdangerous dead as when leading his dissolute life.
Anthony Trent looked at the weak, passion-lined face of the man who hadsought Count Michael's shelter and smiled. He had long ago been intriguedby the idea of mixing himself in high politics. Here, possibly, was anexcellent beginning. But the prince could wait a little while. The timewas not yet ripe for his resurrection.
Looking across the room Trent saw two long French windows lighting it.One was open. Instead of the balcony upon which the intruder assumedthese windows opened, they led into a large courtyard some eighty feetlong and forty feet wide. He did not understand how it was this greatopen space should have its being in the middle of the castle. Thereseemed no reason why it existed in a building of this sort. He was tofind later that its origin was accidental. What was now a paved andopen courtyard had been the magazine of the castle during the Turkishoccupation of Croatia. The castle itself had never given in to theOttoman conqueror. It had been shelled in the Reformation uprising in1607 and a ball shot had exploded the ammunition. The chamber had neverbeen rebuilt but a century later was turned into a pleasant garden.
Trent stepped through the open window and down three steps into thecourtyard. It was plainly much used. There were lounges and chairs andtables. Pausing at one of them he saw London and New York papers whichhe had brought up from Fiume earlier in the week. There were Frenchnovels and bon-bons and a feather fan. Evidently the prince was notwithout his feminine companionship. In one of these big chairs Trent satdown and looked about him. The room from which he had come faced dueeast. To the north and south were plain solid walls without windows.Only to the West at the other end of the space could he see that thewalls were pierced with French windows. As he looked these were suddenlyilluminated. He made no motion. He felt reasonably certain that he wasin such a position as to be unobserved.
But he grew less calm when the count's unmistakable figure passed up anddown before the two windows and finally opening one stepped out into thecourtyard. Behind him came Hentzi who should have been in bed long ago.The two passed so close he could have touched them. They were speakingrapidly and in what he supposed must be the Croatian tongue. Twice heheard his name mentioned. The count always called him by the assumedname of Alfred pronouncing it "Arlfrit."
It was not pleasant hearing. They might be, for all he knew, discussinghis already discovered absence from his room. It was true he had boltedthe door but someone from the outside might have detected the dark-cladclimber making his unlawful ascent. Already a search might be inprogress which would eventually claim him as the third failure. CountMichael was often so excited about trivial things that the listener wasnot able to guess whether his present mood was the outcome of some smallirritation or of something far more sinister. There recurred frequentlythe name of Pauline and once or twice the count pointed to the windowswhere slept the man whom his people had mourned as dead.
There was one moment of dreadful anticipation for the American. Henoticed that Hentzi was permitting himself to argue with his master.Suddenly as the twain passed by Trent's refuge the count buffetted hissecretary on the head. It was Count Michael's favorite expression ofannoyance. Trent himself had suffered thus on the golf links. Hentziducked in time to receive merely a glancing blow but he gripped the armof Trent's chair to steady himself. If he had taken his eyes off thecount's still upraised hand he could not have failed to see theintruder.
For a full half hour Anthony Trent sat quiet. Then the count and Hentzileft him alone. Now that immediate risk of detection seemed past Trentassured himself that his evening had been well spent. Undoubtedly CountMichael's rooms, the rooms he wanted to investigate--were those throughwhose windows the two had come and gone. He memorized as well as hecould the position in the corridors the doors would occupy. Thediscovery of this courtyard three floors in depth helped him tounderstand what had baffled him in his explorations of the corridorsmany of which came to abrupt meaningless ends. In other days they hadcontinued across the space that had once been arsenal, magazine andstrong room.
He made his way through the open window and past the sleeping menwithout mishap. In the corner of a panel in the _armoire_ he bored twosmall holes and blew away the dust that fell from them. He descended thecopper pipe prepared to find his room invaded by vengeful servants. Butit was as he had left it. It was not for his arrest that the count haddragged Arlfrit into his conversation.
The Secret of the Silver Car Page 9