Count Bunker
Page 32
CHAPTER XXXII
The clearness of the Count's conscience may be gauged when it isnarrated that no sooner had he dismissed the stump of his cigar towardthe grate than he dropped into a peaceful doze and remained placidlyunconscious of his perils for the space of an hour or more. He was thenawakened by the sound of a key being gently turned, and his opening eyesrested upon a charming vision of Julia Wallingford framed in the outlineof the door.
"Hush!" she whispered; "I--I have brought a note for you!"
Smoothing his hair as he met her, the Count thanked her with an air ofconsiderable feeling, and took from her hand a twisted slip of paper.
"It was brought by a messenger--a man in a kilt, who came in a motorcar. I didn't know whether father would let you have it, so I brought itup myself."
"Is the messenger waiting?"
"No; he went straight off again."
Unrolling the scrap he read this brief message scrawled in pencil andevidently in dire haste--
"All is lost! I am prisoner! Go straightway to London for help from myEmbassy.
"R. VON B."
"Good heavens!" he exclaimed aloud.
"Is it bad news?" asked Julia, with a solicitude that instantlysuggested possibilities to his fertile brain.
"Horribly!" he said. "It tells of a calamity that has befallen a verydear friend of mine! Oh, Rudolph, Rudolph! And I a helpless prisoner!"
As he anticipated, this outburst of emotion was not without its effect.
"I am so sorry!" she said. "I--I don't believe, Count Bunker, you are asguilty as father says!"
"I swear to you I am not!"
"Can I--help you?"
He thought swiftly.
"Is there any one about the house just now?"
"Oh yes; the keeper is stationed in the hall!"
"Miss Wallingford, if you would atone for a deep injury which you haveinadvertently done an innocent man, bring me fifty feet of stout rope!And, I say, see that the door of the bicycle house is left unlocked.Will you do this?"
"I--I'll try."
A sound on the stairs alarmed her, and with a fleeting smile of sympathyshe was gone and the door locked upon him again.
Again the time passed slowly by, and he was left to ponder over thecritical nature of the situation as revealed by the luckless Baron'sintelligence. Clearly he must escape to-night, at all hazards.
"What's that? My rope?" he wondered.
But it was only the arrival of his dinner, brought as before upon a trayand set just within the door, as though they feared for the bearer'slife should he venture within reach of this desperate adventurer fromUruguay.
"A very large dish for a very small appetite," he thought, as he borehis meal over to the bed and drew his chair up before it.
It looked indeed as though a roasted goose must be beneath the cover.He raised it, and there, behold! lay a large coil of excellent new rope.The Count chuckled.
"Commend me to the heart and the wit of women! What man would ever haveprovided so dainty a dish as this? Unless, indeed" (he had the breadthof mind to add) "it happened to be a charming adventuress who was introuble."
Drinking the half pint of moderate claret which they had allowed himto the happiness and prosperity of all true-hearted women, he could nothelp regretting that his imprisoned confederate should be so unlikely toenjoy similar good fortune.
"He went too far with those two dear girls. A woman deceived as hehas deceived them will never forgive him. They'd stand sentry athis cell-door sooner than let the poor Baron escape," he reflectedcommiserately, and sighed to think of the disastrous effect thismishap might have both upon his friend's diplomatic career and domesticfelicity.
While waiting for the dusk to deepen, and endeavoring to console himselffor the lack of cigars with the poor remedy of cigarettes, he employedhis time profitably in tying a series of double knots upon the line ofrope. Then at last, when he could see the stars bright above the treesand hear no sound in the house, he pulled his bed softly to the openwindow, and to it fastened one end of his rope securely. The other hequietly let drop, and losing not an instant followed it hand underhand, murmuring anathemas on the rough wall that so scraped his eveningtrousers.
On tiptoe he stole to the door through which the bicycle had gone. Ityielded to a push, and once inside he ventured to strike a match.
"By Gad! I've a choice of half a dozen," he exclaimed.
It need scarcely be said that he selected the best; and after slittingwith his pocket-knife the tires of all the others, he mounted andpedalled quietly down the drive. The lodge gates stood open; the road, atrifle muddy but clear of all traffic, stretched visible for a long wayin the starlight; the breeze blew fair behind him.
"May Providence guide me to the station," he prayed, and rode off intothe night.