Night came and he dropped to the soft, dank earth, utterly exhausted and absolutely lost for the time being in the pathless hills.
At ten o’clock the next morning Colonel Quinnox and a company of soldiers, riding from the city gates toward the north in response to a call for help from honest herders who reported attacks and robberies of an alarming nature, came upon the stiff, foot-sore, thorn-scratched Mr. Hobbs, not far from the walls of the town. The Colonel was not long in grasping the substance of Hobbs’s revelations. He rode off at once for the Witch’s hovel, sending Hobbs with a small, instructed escort to the Castle, where Baron Dangloss was in consultation with Mr. Tullis and certain ministers.
The city was peaceful enough, much to the surprise of Hobbs. No disturbance had been reported, said the guardsmen who rode beside him. Up in the hills there had been some depredations, but that was all.
“All?” groaned Mr. Hobbs. “All? Hang it all, man, wot do you call all? You haven’t heard ’alf all of it yet. I tell you, there’s been the devil to pay. Wait till the Colonel comes back from Ganlook Gap. He’ll have news for you; take it from me, he will. That poor chap ’as gone up in smoke, as sure as my name’s Hobbs.”
They met Baron Dangloss near the barracks, across the park from the Castle. He was in close, earnest conversation with John Tullis and Count Halfont, both of whom seemed to be labouring under intense excitement. Over by the arsenal the little Prince, attended by his Aunt Loraine and Count Vos Engo—with two mechanical guardsmen in the background—was deep in conversation with Julius Spantz, the master-of-arms. If he had been near enough to hear, he might have learned that Prince Robin’s air-gun was very much out of order and needed attention at once.
The arrival of Hobbs, a pitiful but heroic object, at once arrested the attention of every one. His story was heard by a most distinguished audience; in fact, Hobbs was near to exploding with his own suddenly acquired importance. Not only were there dark, serious looks from the men in the party, and distressed exclamations from the most beautiful young lady in the world (he had always said that of her), but he had the extreme unction of bringing tears to the eyes of a prince, and of hearing manfully suppressed sobs from the throat of the same august personage.
The looks that went round at the conclusion of his disjointed and oft-interrupted story, expressed something more than consternation.
“There is nothing supernatural about King’s disappearance,” said Tullis sharply. “That’s all nonsense. He had money about him and it perhaps turns out that there really was a man at the crack in the door—a clever brigand who today has got the better of our vain-glorious friend. The shooting in the hills is more disturbing than this, to my mind. Gentlemen, you shouldn’t lose any time in running these fellows down. It will mean trouble if it gets under way. They’re an ugly lot.”
“This mystery coming on top of the other is all the more difficult to understand. I mean the disappearance of the Countess Marlanx,” said Baron Dangloss, pulling at his imperial in plain perplexity. “But we must not stop here talking. Will you come with me, Mr. Tullis, to the Tower? I shall send out my best man to work on the case of the lady. It is a most amazing thing. I still have hope that she will appear in person to explain the affair.”
“I think not,” said Tullis gloomily. “This looks like abduction-foul play, or whatever you choose to call it. She has never left her father’s house in just this manner before. I believe, Baron, that Marlanx has taken her away by force. She told me yesterday that she would never go back to him if she could help it. I have already given you my suspicions regarding his designs upon the—ahem!” Catching the eager gaze of the Prince, he changed the word “throne” to “treasury.” The Baron nodded thoughtfully. “The Countess attended the fête at Baron Pultz’s last night, leaving at twelve o’clock. I said good-night to her at the fountain and watched her until she passed through the gate between the Baron’s grounds and those of her father adjoining. She would not permit me to accompany her to the doors. Her maid had preceded her and was waiting just beyond the gate—at least, so she says today. It is less than two hundred feet from the gate to Perse’s doorsteps. Well, she never crossed that space. Her maid waited for an hour near the fernery and then came to the Baron’s. The Countess has not been seen since she passed through the gate in the wall. I say that she has been carried away.”
“The maid will be at my office at eleven with the Duke of Perse and the house servants. I have detailed a man to look up this fellow Brutus you speak of, and to ascertain his whereabouts last night. Come, we will go to the Tower. The Duke is greatly distressed. He suspects foul play, I am confident, but he will not admit that Marlanx is responsible.”
“But what about Mr. King?” piped up a small voice.
“Colonel Quinnox has gone to look for him, Bobby,” began Tullis, frowning slightly. He was interested in but one human being at that moment.
“I want the old Witch beheaded,” said the Prince. “Why don’t you go, Uncle Jack? He’s an American. He’d help you, I bet, if you were in danger.”
Tullis flushed. Then he patted Prince Robin’s shoulder and said, with no little emotion in his voice:
“Perhaps I deserve the rebuke, Bobby, but you must not forget that there is a lady in distress. Which would you have me do—desert the lady whom we all love or the man whom we scarcely know?”
“The lady,” said Bobby promptly. “Hasn’t she got a husband to look after her? Mr. King has no friends, no relations, nothing. Aunt Loraine likes him and so do I.”
“He’s a fine chap,” asserted Hobbs, and afterward marvelled at his own temerity.
Loraine, her merry eyes now dark with anxiety, her cheeks white with resolution, turned upon John Tullis. “You might leave the rescue of the Countess to the proper authorities—the police,” she said calmly. “I think it is your duty as an American to head the search for Mr. King. If Count Marlanx has spirited his wife away, pray, who has a better right?”
“But we are not sure that he—”
“We are sure that Mr. King is either dead or in dire need of help,” she interrupted hotly. He looked at her in surprise, swayed by two impulses.
“Colonel Quinnox is quite competent to conduct the search,” he said shortly.
“But Colonel Quinnox has gone forth on another mission. He may be unable to give any of his time to the search for Mr. King. It is outrageous, John Tullis, to refuse help—”
“I don’t refuse help,” he exclaimed. “They may take the whole army out to look for him, so far as I am concerned. But, I’ll tell you this—I consider it my duty as a man to devote what strength I have to the service of a woman in trouble. That ends it! Come, Baron; we will go to the Tower.”
The amazed young woman looked at him with wide, comprehending eyes. Her lip trembled under the rebuke. Count Halfont intervened, hastily proposing that a second party be sent out at once with instructions to raze the Witch’s hut if necessary.
“I shall be happy to lead the expedition,” said young Count Vos Engo, bowing deeply to the young lady herself.
“You shall, Vos Engo,” said Halfont. “Prepare at once. Take ten men. I shall report to General Braze for you.”
Tullis turned suddenly to the resentful girl. “Loraine,” he said gently, as the others drew away, “don’t be hard with me. You don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do,” she said stubbornly. “You are in love with her.”
“Yes; that’s quite true.”
“A married woman!”
“I can’t help it. I must do all I can for her.”
She looked into his honest eyes for a moment.
“Forgive me,” she murmured, hanging her head. “What is Mr. King to us, after all?”
“He is simply paying for his foolhardiness. Americans do that the world over.”
“Be careful that you do not pay for something worse than foolhardiness.”
“I think you may trust me.”
She smiled brightly up into his
face. “Have your way, then. Remember that I am her friend, too.” Then she hurried off after the Prince and Vos Engo, who was already giving instructions to an attentive orderly.
“Poor Mr. King!” she said to the Prince, as they stood by watching the preparations. “I am afraid, Bobby, he can’t come to your circus this week. I sent the invitation this morning, early. He may never receive it. Isn’t it dreadful, Count Vos Engo?”
Count Vos Engo was politely concerned, but it should not be expected that, in his present state of mind regarding her, he could be seriously grieved by anything that might have happened to the rash American.
The guard about the Prince was doubled: orders requiring the strictest care of his person were issued by Count Halfont. By this time, it may be suspected, the suspicions of John Tullis had been communicated to men high in the government; no small amount of credence was attached to them. Baron Dangloss began to see things in a different light; things that had puzzled him before now seemed clear. His office was the busiest place in Edelweiss.
“It is not unreasonable to suspect that Marlanx, or some of his agents, having concluded that the Countess knew too much of their operations, and might not be a safe repository, decided to remove her before it was too late. Understand, gentlemen, I don’t believe the Countess is in sympathy with her husband’s schemes—”
The Duke of Perse interrupted the doughty baron. “You assume a great deal, Baron, in saying that he has schemes inimical to the best interests of this country.”
“I fancy that your Grace will admit that your venerable son-in-law—who, if I mistake not, is some ten years your senior—has no great love for the reigning power in Graustark. We will pass that, however,” said the Baron, pointedly. “We should be wise enough to guard against any move he may make; it is imperative that we should not be caught napping.”
“I don’t believe he has taken my daughter away by force. Why should he do so? She goes to him voluntarily at the end of each visit. There is no coercion.” He met John Tullis’s stony gaze without flinching. “I insist that she has been stolen by these brigands in the hills, to be held for ransom.”
The stories of the maid, the footmen, the groundmen were all to the effect that the Countess had not returned to her father’s home after leaving the fête next door. There were no signs of a struggle in the garden, nor had there been the slightest noise to attract the attention of the waiting maid. It was not impossible, after all, that she had slipped away of her own accord, possessed of a sudden whim or impulse.
The new man-servant, suspected by the Countess herself, passed through the examination creditably. Tullis, of course, had not yet told Dangloss of the Countess’s own suspicions concerning this man. They were a part of their joint secret. The American felt sure, however, that this man knew more of the night’s work than he had told. He conveyed this belief to Dangloss, and a close watch was set upon the fellow. More than once during the long afternoon John Tullis found himself wishing that he had that dare-devil, thoroughbred young countryman of his, Truxton King, beside him; something told him that the young man would prove a treasure in resourcefulness and activity.
Late in the afternoon, a telegram was brought to Tullis which upset all of their calculations and caused the minister of police to swear softly in pure disgust. It was from the Countess Marlanx herself, sent from Porvrak, a station far down the railway, in the direction of Vienna. It was self-explanatory: “I am going to Schloss Marlanx, there to end my days. There is no hope for me. I go voluntarily. Will you not understand why I am leaving Edelweiss? You must know.” It was signed “Ingomede.”
Tullis was dumbfounded. He caught the penetrating glance of Dangloss and flushed under the sudden knowledge that this shrewd old man also understood why she was leaving Edelweiss. Because of him! Because she loved him and would not be near him. His heart swelled exultantly in the next moment; a brave resolve was born within him.
“We don’t need a key to that, my boy,” said the Baron indulgently. “But I will say that she has damned little consideration for you when she steals away in the dead of night, without a word. In a ball dress, too. Unfeeling, I’d say. Well, we can devote our attention to Mr. King, who is lost.”
“See here, Baron,” said Tullis after a moment, “I want you to give me a couple of good men for a few days. I’m going to Schloss Marlanx. I’ll get her away from that place if I have to kill Marlanx and swing for it.”
At seven o’clock that night, accompanied by two clever secret service men, Tullis boarded the train for the West. A man who stood in the tobacconist’s shop on the station platform smiled quietly to himself as the train pulled out. Then he walked briskly away. It was Peter Brutus, the lawyer.
A most alluring trap had been set for John Tullis!
The party that had gone to Ganlook Gap in charge of Count Vos Engo returned at nightfall, no wiser than when it left the barracks at noon. Riding bravely, but somewhat dejectedly beside the handsome young officer in command was a girl in grey. It was her presence with the troop that had created comment at the gates earlier in the day. No one could understand why she was riding forth upon what looked to be a dangerous mission. Least of all, Count Vos Engo, who had striven vainly to dissuade her from the purpose to accompany the soldiers.
Now she was coming home with them, silent, subdued, dispirited—even more so than she allowed the Count to see.
“I was hateful to him yesterday,” she said penitently, as they rode into the city. Vos Engo had been thinking of something else: the remark disturbed him.
“He was very presumptuous-yesterday,” he said crossly.
She transfixed him with a look meant to be reproachful.
“That’s why I managed the ticket for Bobby’s circus,” she said, looking ahead with a genuinely mournful droop of her lip. “I was sorry for him. Oh, dear, oh, dear What will his poor mother say—and his sister?”
“We’ve done all we can, Loraine. Except to cable,” he added sourly.
“Yes, I suppose so. Poor fellow!”
Colonel Quinnox and his men had been scouring the hills for bandits. They arrived at the Witch’s cabin a few minutes after Vos Engo and his company. Disregarding the curses of the old woman, a thorough search of the place was made. The forest, the ravine, the mountainside for a mile or more in all directions were gone over by the searchers. There was absolutely no sign of the missing man, nor was there the least indication that there had been foul play.
The old woman’s story, reflected by the grandson, was convincing so far as it went. She said that the young man remained behind in the kitchen to puzzle himself over the smoke mystery, while she went out to her doorstep. The man with the horses became frightened when she went down to explain the situation to him. He fled. A few minutes later the gentleman emerged, to find his horse gone, himself deserted. Cursing, he struck off down the glen in pursuit of his friend, and that was the last she saw of him. Not long afterward she heard shooting in the Gap and sent her grandson to see if anything could have happened to her late visitor, who, it seems, owed her one hundred gavvos as a forfeit of some sort.
The further prosecution of the search was left to Colonel Quinnox and his men. Loraine, shuddering, but resolute, had witnessed the ransacking of the hut, had urged the arrest of the hag, and had come away disheartened but satisfied that the woman had told them the truth. Quinnox’s theory was accepted by all. He believed that King had fallen into the hands of brigands and that a heavy ransom would be demanded for his release.
In a warm-tinted room at the Castle, later on in the evening, the Prince, in pajamas, was discoursing bravely on the idiosyncrasies of Fate. His only auditor was the mournful Loraine, who sat beside the royal bed in which he wriggled vaguely. The attendants were far down the room.
“Never mind, Aunt Loraine, you can’t help it. I’m just as sorry as you are. Say, are you in love with him?”
“In love with whom?”
“Mr. King.”
“Of course not,
silly. What an absurd question. I do not know him at all.”
“That’s all right, Aunt Loraine. I believe in love at first sight. He is a—”
“Bobby! Don’t be foolish. How could I be in love with him?”
“Well, you can’t help it sometimes. Even princes fall in love without knowing it.”
“I suppose so,” dreamily.
“It’s mighty hard to make up your mind which one you love best, though. Dr. Barrett’s daughter in New York is awful nice, but I think she’s—”
“She is twenty years older than you, Bobby, if you mean to say you are in love with her.”
“Well, but I’ll grow up, auntie. Anyhow, Paula Vedrowski is not so old as I. She is—”
“For heaven’s sake, Bobby, do go to sleep!”
“Don’t you care to hear about my love affairs?”
“You are perfectly ridiculous!”
“All right for you, auntie. I shan’t listen when you want to tell me about yours. Gee, Uncle Jack listens, you bet. I wish he was here this minute. Say, is he ever going to get married?” There was no answer. He peered over the top of the pillow. There were tears in his Aunt Loraine’s eyes. “Oh, say, auntie, darling, don’t cry! I’ll—I’ll go to sleep, honest!”
She was not in love with Truxton King, but she was a fine, tender-hearted girl, who suffered because of the thing that had happened to him and because she loved his sister.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 87