A Modern Mercenary

by K. Prichard and Hesketh Vernon Hesketh Prichard

  CHAPTER V.

  GOOD LUCK AND A FIREFLY.

  Meanwhile Rallywood had come to an anchor beside one of the highembossed doors of gold and white which led from the gallery into variousluxurious withdrawing rooms. As he leant against the lintel a voicesuddenly said in his ear, as it seemed--

  'My dear lady, why have such scruples? They are the most detestablethings in life and the least profitable. They poison pleasure even whenthey do not altogether deprive us of it. And what does one gain by them?Absolutely nothing, not so much as the good opinion of our friends, whocan never be brought to believe we possess them,' said a man in amocking tone.

  A distinctly uncomfortable sensation pervaded Rallywood's mind for thesecond which preceded the reply. The voice was Baron von Elmur's, andthere was a note of admiration in it that he had reason to be acquaintedwith.

  A woman laughed, a light, provoking laugh, Rallywood, who was still heldby the crush against the door, knew it well, but he breathed freely, forit was not the laugh he had feared to hear.

  'Nevertheless, Baron, I like scruples; they are always respectable, andtherefore of use--sometimes,' the lady answered in a high, sweet tone.

  'Your husband, my Lord Sagan, has not found them indispensable in hiscareer.'

  'But he is not a woman!' with a sigh.

  'A beautiful woman can dispense with everything except--her beauty! Thatmakes fools of us all! Besides----'

  The rest of the sentence was lost, as Rallywood managed at length toforce his way through the crowd, which was thickening rapidly.

  Then he came upon a group of men he knew, men from the frontier, fromthe marshes about Kofn Ford and the crags of Pulesco, men with tannedskins like his own, and the mark of the collar rim of their highmilitary tunics round their throats. They were masked, and representedvarious original characters, and were enjoying themselves hugely. Morethan all were they astonished at being recognised so readily byRallywood. Rallywood drew his finger round his throat by way ofexplanation. There was a general laugh, and the men scattered each toseek his own particular pleasure. Rallywood remained looking down on thedancers. There was in the back of his mind some desire to identify thelady whose glove was still in his possession. He fixed now on one talldomino, now on another, but without satisfaction. He was discontentedlycoming to the point of knowing that he had made a fresh mistake, whenhe turned his head abruptly, with a vague sense of being looked at, andsaw a black domino standing for an instant alone at the further end ofthe gallery. Even under the muffling silken folds he fancied herecognised the attitude of the girl he had met at the Chancellor's.

  He at once began to make his way through the crowd in her direction, butwhen next he looked she was gone. He descended to the salon, where hedanced with more than one masked lady. His six feet of stature markedhim out from the shorter Maasauns, and the tall athletic figure of thegamekeeper, who moved with so much of unexpected ease and grace, excitedsome attention.

  After an interval, as he stood back against the wall to allow a couplewho had been following him to pass, they drew up in front of him.

  'I obey you, Mademoiselle,' said the man.

  His companion, who wore a black domino, made a gesture of dismissal;then she turned to Rallywood. 'You have been looking for me?' she said,as her late partner moved away.

  'But naturally, Mademoiselle,' replied Rallywood.

  'You know who I am?'

  'Not in the least. I cannot even make a guess, though I have beenwaiting to know since this day last week.'

  'It would have been easy to ask the question--of anyone,' she said withan odd intonation.

  'By no means. There are questions which cannot be asked--of anyone,because the answer touches too closely.' Rallywood pulled himself upwith a sudden sense of being ridiculously in earnest.

  And then they were dancing.

  'Yet you are not a stranger in Revonde. Madame de Sagan could haveanswered your question--had you cared to ask it,' the girl said.

  'It did not strike me to ask her. I trusted to the fact that, belongingto the Guard, I must some day have the good fortune to find you again.'

  'You are patient!'

  'No,' returned Rallywood, 'I am not patient. But I know that all thingscome to him who waits. I wait.'

  'So I see, excellently!'

  'Have I not waited long enough to hear your name first from your ownlips?'

  'Stop for a moment;' then standing beside him, she continued, 'Ask meto-morrow.'

  'If I am alive I will!' he laughed.

  He felt her hand move with a quick tremor on his arm.

  'I knew it! Which of them has challenged you? Unziar?' The swiftquestion, echoing his own thought, took him completely by surprise.

  He passed his arm round her, for the waltz was nearing its end.

  'Shall we go on? No; no one has done me the honour of sending me achallenge.'

  'Let us have an end of this absurd mystery!' said the girl impatiently.'I am Valerie Selpdorf, and you are----'

  'John Rallywood of the Guard of Maasau!' he interposed. 'I had mycommission from you in the ante-room of the Hotel du Chancelier. But forthat I should have been more than half inclined to refuse it.'

  'I wish you had refused it! It may cost you--more than a man cares topay. I thought my father held the power to give any commission hepleased, but one can never reckon with the Guard. They mean to kill you,Captain Rallywood! I wanted to warn you, but I think you know more,perhaps, than I can tell you or than you will tell me. What is going tohappen? I want to help you--you must let me help you!'

  Rallywood laughed, but perhaps his arm drew her a little closer as theymoved more slowly during the concluding bars of the waltz.

  'My dear Mademoiselle, I assure you that your fears are quitegroundless. I am proud to belong to the Guard of Maasau, and they haveso far shown no intention of rejecting me. As for duels, if therehappened to be one--are not affairs common in Maasau? And afterwards,fewer funerals take place than one would suppose likely! Besides, M.Selpdorf's wishes cannot be lightly disregarded in Revonde.'

  'You will be drawn into a quarrel before the night is over.'Mademoiselle Selpdorf stated her conviction very plainly, withoutnoticing his disclaimers.

  The music ceased. Rallywood spoke once more. 'To prove to you how littleI anticipate anything of the sort, will you allow me to have the lastdance on the programme?'

  'That is nothing! What can I do for you?' she exclaimed.

  'Expect me! If you would promise to expect me, I don't yet know the manwho could stop my coming to you.'

  The words were lightly spoken, but Valerie Selpdorf, looking up intoRallywood's eyes, understood that he was likely to be able to make anywords of his good. They were handsome eyes, rather long in shape, frankand steady, the iris of a dense grey bordering on hazel as became thesunburnt yellow of his hair and moustache, and at that moment theycontained an expression which remained in Valerie's memory as thedistinctive expression of his face. Whenever in the future she recalledRallywood, she thought of him as he looked then.

  'I will expect you,' promised Valerie.

  They both knew that for the moment they stood together at one of thosecross-roads where life and death meet, where moreover a look and a wordconvey a mutual revelation of character such as years of ordinaryintercourse often fail to supply.

  Rallywood did not dance again; he contented himself with following themovements of the black domino. After a time she joined a little groupof people with whom she stood talking. One of the group presentlydetached himself and glanced round as if searching for some one. It wasUnziar of the Guard. He quickly perceived Rallywood and at once cametowards him.

  'Allow me to recall myself to your memory, Captain Rallywood; I amUnziar of the Guard,' he said bowing, both voice and bow touching thatextreme of punctiliousness which in itself constitutes an insolence.

  'The Guard are said to have long memories. I hope in that particular, atleast, if in no other, to support their traditions,' replied Rally
wood,with an air of cool and serene indifference said to be impossible to anybut men of his race.

  'That is--something,' rejoined Unziar with a smile that belied its name.'We are somewhat exigeant in the Guard. We ask for more than a longmemory--a long pedigree, for example, and a long sword.'

  'I have heard that also.'

  Unziar glanced sharply at him out of his pale keen eyes. The fellow wastoo non-committal to please his taste. To hound a coward out of thecorps promised infinitely less difficulty and enjoyment than he hadhoped for when he pledged himself to rid the Guard of the Englishman.For perhaps the only time in his life he wished he wore any uniform butthe tell-tale green and gold, for he knew of the Guard that it was oftentheir 'great name that conquered.'

  Spurred by this thought he looked Rallywood very straightly in the face,and the gleam of his eyes reminded the Englishman of glacier ice.

  'Knowing so many of our peculiarities, perhaps Captain Rallywood may nolonger care to join us?' said the Guardsman.

  Rallywood laughed with absolute good-humour.

  'I both care and--dare!' he said pleasantly.

  Unziar's face cleared.

  'I am forgetting my errand,' he said with a slight change of tone. 'Ihave been sent by a lady to bring you to her. Will you follow me?'

  As they approached the group, the shorter of the two black dominoesspoke.

  'You need not trouble to introduce Captain Rallywood, Anthony. We arealready friends; are we not, Monsieur?'

  The sweet high voice and the inconsequent childish laugh came uponRallywood with a slight shock.

  'I could hardly have dared to claim so much,' he said; 'but I cannotforget that Madame de Sagan--'

  She laid her hand with a suspicion of caressing familiarity on his arm.

  'Hush, then! Do you not know that it is inadmissible to mention the nameof a masked lady until the clock strikes midnight? Captain Rallywood hasbeen stationed near the Castle at Kofn Ford; we have thereforemet--occasionally,' continued the lady, addressing herself toMademoiselle Selpdorf.

  'Captain Rallywood is luckier than most of us,' interposed anothervoice. 'He seems to have an enviable facility for appearing where weothers in vain wish to be. Only last week----'

  A tall Mephistopheles in scarlet silk, whose high shoulders lent himadded height, had joined them. His peaked cap and feather sparkled withlurid points of fire. Countess Sagan turned upon him.

  'But, Baron, where is then your domino? It is not yet midnight,' sheexclaimed, her hand still remaining on Rallywood's arm.

  'Listen!' von Elmur raised his hand. 'The happy moment arrives when thebeautiful faces we long to see----' He gave the rest of the sentence tothe ear of Mademoiselle Selpdorf, who stood silently looking on at thelittle scene.

  At this instant the music broke off with a sudden clang; the dancerspaused where they stood, as the great bell of the palace tower sent itsstrong, mellow boom of midnight out over the frost-bound city.

  Rallywood, on looking round an instant later, saw that masks anddominoes had disappeared. Opposite to him stood Valerie Selpdorf in adress of some deep velvety shade, which bore, wrought upon its texturehere and there, tiny horseshoes embossed in iridescent jewels. A diademof the same shape crowned her dark hair. Yet all the richness anddelicacy of the blended colourings struck Rallywood with only one oddremembrance--his own boot-heel outlined in Revonde mud upon a long_suede_ glove. The same association apparently occurred to Baron vonElmur. His glance fled from Valerie to Rallywood, and he smiled withsome malice.

  'What have we here, Mademoiselle? The stamp of some idealised cavalrycharger?' he asked. 'I should be eternally grateful if only I were--ofthe cavalry!'

  A sudden intense expression, like a spasm of hope or happiness, crossedUnziar's pale face in a flash. A word sprang almost involuntarily fromhis lips.

  'The Guard----' But the girl cut him remorselessly short.

  'I do not idealise either the Guard'--she paused, then went on withouttaking her eyes from Elmur's face--'or the cavalry. One has illusions,doubtless, but none so entirely absurd! I have idealised my own desiremerely. I want good luck. I am "Good Luck!"' She spoke the last twowords in English, smiling back at Elmur.

  The Baron bowed. He was not beaten yet.

  'That is well,' he exclaimed; 'since the cavalry and Guard are disowned,it means that the good luck is for the poor diplomat!'

  'Provisionally, yes,' said the girl.

  'Mademoiselle Selpdorf has already given this waltz to me,' said Unziar,stepping forward.

  But Mademoiselle Selpdorf placed her hand within the Baron's ready arm.

  'Later, Anthony,' she answered. 'His Excellency deserves a consolationprize, since my reading of "Good Luck" is not in the German language.'

  She turned away, and with her the group parted and scattered.

  'You are very much interested; is it not so?'

  Rallywood started. The Countess spoke petulantly.

  'Do you not know,' she added, 'that the custom in Revonde holds you tothe partner with whom you find yourself when midnight rings? ValerieSelpdorf is embarrassed with partners--my cousin Anthony Unziar, whodesires perhaps herself, but most certainly her fortune, and ourdelightful German Minister, who uses all means that come to hand to winMaasau for his master! But I should not say these foolish things to you,who are of the other party.'

  They were dancing by this time, her head near his shoulder, her voicesoft in his bending ear.

  'Of the other party?' he repeated. 'I flattered myself that you saidsomething else just now.'

  'Yes, a friend; but I made a mistake--I have none--no, not one truefriend!' the voice said passionately in his ear, 'and my husband----'

  Rallywood almost lifted her clear of some crowding couples, and thengently released her. In a vague way he felt the force of her appealingbeauty as he had felt it intermittently for some months past. It touchedhim for the moment, but he was apt to forget both it and the veryexistence of the woman herself directly he parted from her.

  'Count Sagan is colonel-in-chief of the Guard?' he asked, and thequestion seemed to fit in with her train of thought.

  She made no immediate response, but with a light touch on his arm ledhim to a flower-banked apartment, about which a few couples werescattered in various convenient nooks. She sank upon a sequesteredsettee, and made room for him beside her.

  'Yes, he is colonel-in-chief of the Guard because they think him too oldto act any longer as its real commandant. He was the first soldier inMaasau and the most unequalled sportsman. He was all these things, and Iam proud of them! But look at me!'

  She rose languidly and stood before him. Rallywood saw a slight woman,tall and exquisitely fair, who carried her small head with its gleamingcoronet royally. Her skin and her soft flushed cheeks had the pure,evanescent quality of a child's complexion. Moreover, her chief charmwas perhaps her air of child-like innocence. Isolde of Sagan had seldomlooked more lovely; she was honestly touched by self-pity, and wasposing as the proud yet disillusioned wife of a man hopelessly olderthan herself, and for the time being she believed earnestly in that viewof her lot.

  'All these things have been,' she added softly, her eyes filling withtears, 'but _I am_! Can I ever be satisfied with what only was?'Rallywood's face altered. Like any other man in such a position he feltimmensely sorry for her. She saw the advantage she had gained, and atonce the coquette awoke in her.

  'Captain Rallywood,' she sank down beside him again, 'I need a friend inwhom I can trust, who will ask nothing of me, but who will give me allthe things I most want.'

  The interpretation of this enigmatical speech was left to the ear, forthe young Countess was gazing at her big black fan, where luminousfireflies hung tangled amongst the dusky feathers. Quickly with somedissatisfaction she became aware that Rallywood was not looking ather--as he should have been doing--but staring in front of him with agrave expression. Well, she knew she could make him look at her as shedesired--yet. It was but a matter of time.

 
; 'I think you may count upon me,' said Rallywood at last. He believed inher, which was good; moreover, he meant what he said; yet the speech waswholly lacking in the flavour which to the Countess Sagan was theflavour of life.

  'After all, it is little to promise, and I may not need your friendshipfor very long,' she replied, plucking a glittering firefly from her fanand laying it on his sleeve with her sweet light laugh. 'Like a fireflyI shall dance out my short night, and die quickly before life growsstale!'

  Rallywood took out his cigarette case of Alfaun leather-work, anddropped the firefly with its sparkle of diamond-dust into it.

  'I don't like to hear you say that,' he said in his quiet way, which thelistener decided might mean so much or so little. 'We must all go outsome time, I suppose, but one always wants the beautiful things to livefor ever.... Meanwhile, can you spare me another dance?'