“Loraine!” he whispered, reaching her side in two bounds. She put out her hands and he clasped them. A quick, hysterical little laugh came from her lips. Plainly, she was confused. “I’ve been dying for a glimpse of you. Do you think you’ve treated me—”
“Don’t, Truxton,” she pleaded, suddenly serious. She sent a swift glance toward the balconies. “You must not come here. I saw—well, you know. I was so ashamed. I was so sorry.”
He still held her hands. His heart was throbbing furiously.
“Yes, they ordered me to move on, as if I were a common loafer,” he said, with a soft chuckle. “I’m used to it, however. They ran me out of Meshed for taking snapshots; they banished me from Damascus, and they all but kicked me out of Jerusalem—I won’t say why. But where have you kept yourself? Why have you avoided me? After getting the Prince to parade me in front of your windows, too. It’s dirt mean, Loraine.”
“I have been ill, Truxton—truly, I have,” she said quickly, uneasily.
“See here, what’s wrong? You are in trouble. I can tell by your manner. Tell me—trust me.”
“I am worried so dreadfully about John,” she faltered.
“That isn’t all,” he declared. “There’s something else. What promise did you make to Vos Engo last Saturday after—well, if you choose to recall it—after I brought you back to him—what did you promise him?”
“Don’t be cruel, Truxton,” she pleaded. “I cannot forget all you have done for me.”
“You told Vos Engo to ride back and pick me up,” he persisted. “He told me in so many words. Now, I want a plain answer, Loraine. Did you promise to reward him if he—well, if he saved me from the mob?”
She was breathlessly silent for a moment. “No,” she said, in a low voice.
“What was it, then? I must know, Loraine.” He was bending over her, imperiously.
“I am very—oh, so very unhappy, Truxton,” she murmured. He was on the point of clasping her in his arms and kissing her. But he thought better of it.
“I came near spoiling everything just now,” he whispered hoarsely.
“What?”
“I almost kissed you, Loraine,—I swear it was hard to keep from it. That would have spoiled everything.”
“Yes, it would,” she agreed quickly.
“I’m not going to kiss you until you have told me you love Vos Engo.”
“I—I don’t understand,” she cried, drawing back and looking up into his face with bewildered eyes.
“Because then I’ll be sure that you love me.”
“Be sensible, Truxton.”
“I’ll know that you promised to love him if he’d save me. It’s as clear as day to me. You did tell him you’d marry him if he got me to a place of safety.”
“No. I refused to marry him if he did not save you. Oh, Truxton, I am so miserable. What is to become of all of us? What is to become of John, and Bobby—and you?”
“I—I think I’ll kiss you now, Loraine,” he whispered almost tremulously. “God, how I love you, little darling!”
“Don’t!” she whispered, resolutely pushing him away after a sweet second of indecision. “I cannot—I cannot, Truxton dear. Don’t ask me to—to do that. Not now, please—not now!”
He stiffened; his hands dropped to his sides, but there was joy in his voice.
“I can wait,” he said gently. “It’s only a matter of a few days; and I—I won’t make it any harder for you just now. I think I understand. You’ve—you’ve sort of pledged yourself to that—to him, and you don’t think it fair to—well, to any of us. I’m including you, you see. I know you don’t love him, and I know that you’re going to love me, even if you don’t at this very instant. I’m not a very stupid person, after all. I can see through things. I saw through it all when he came back for me. That’s why I jumped from his horse and took my chances elsewhere. He did a plucky thing, Loraine, but I—I couldn’t let it go as he intended it to be. Confound him, I would have died a thousand times over rather than have you sacrifice yourself in that way. It was splendid of you, darling, but—but very foolish. You’ve got yourself into a dreadful mess over it. I’ve got to rescue you all over again. This time, thank the Lord, from a Castle.”
She could not help smiling. His joyousness would not be denied.
“How splendid you are!” she said, her voice thrilling with a tone that could not be mistaken.
He put his hands upon her shoulders and looked down into the beautiful, upturned face, a genuinely serious note creeping into his voice when he spoke again.
“Don’t misconstrue my light-heartedness, dearest. It’s a habit with me, not a fault. I see the serious side to your affair—as you view it. You have promised to marry Vos Engo. You’ll have to break that promise. He didn’t save me. Colonel Quinnox would have accomplished it, in any event. He can’t hold you to such a silly pledge. You—you haven’t by any chance told him that you love him?” He asked this in sudden anxiety.
“Really, Truxton, I cannot discuss—”
“No, I’m quite sure you haven’t,” he announced contentedly. “You couldn’t have done that, I know. Now, I want you to make me a promise that you’ll keep.”
“Oh, Truxton—don’t ask me to say that I’ll be your—”She stopped, painfully embarrassed.
“That will come later,” he said consolingly. “I want you to promise, on your sacred word of honour, that you’ll kiss no man until you’ve kissed me.”
“Oh!” she murmured, utterly speechless.
“Promise!”
“I—I cannot promise that,” she said in tones almost inaudible. “I am not sure that I’ll ever—ever kiss anybody. How silly you are!”
“I’ll make exception in the case of your brother—and, yes, the Prince.”
“I’ll not make such a promise,” she cried.
“Then, I’ll be hanged if I’ll save you from the ridiculous mess you’ve gotten yourself into,” he announced with finality. “Moreover, you’re not yet safe from old Marlanx. Think it over, my—”
“Oh, he cannot seize the Castle—it is impossible!” she cried in sudden terror.
“I’m not so sure about that,” he said laconically.
“What is it you really want me to say?” she asked, looking up with sudden shyness in her starry eyes.
“That you love me—and me only, Loraine,” he whispered.
“I will not say it,” she cried, breaking away from him. “But,” as she ran to the steps, a delicious tremor in her voice—”I will consider the other thing you ask.”
“Darling—don’t go,” he cried, in eager, subdued tones, but she already was half way across the balcony. In a moment she was gone. “Poor, harassed little sweetheart!” he murmured, with infinite tenderness. For a long time he stood there, looking at the window through which she had disappeared, his heart full of song.
Then, all at once, he remembered the meeting. “Great Scott!” in dismay. “I’m late for the pow-wow.” A twisted smile stole over his face. “I wonder how they’ve managed to get along without me.” Then he presented himself, somewhat out of breath, to the attendants at the south doors, where he had been directed to report. A moment later he was in the Castle of Graustark, following a stiff-backed soldier through mediæval halls of marble, past the historic staircase, down to the door of the council chamber. He was filled with the most delicious sensation of awe and reverence. Only in his dearest dreams had he fancied himself in these cherished halls. And now he was there—actually treading the same mosaic floors that had known the footsteps of countless princes and princesses, his nostrils tingling with the rare incense of five centuries, his blood leaping to the call of a thousand romances. The all but mythical halls of Graustark—the sombre, vaulted, time-defying corridors of his fancy. Somewhere in this vast pile of stone was the girl he loved. Each shadowy nook, each velvety recess, seemed to glow with the wizardry of love-lamps that had been lighted with the building of the Castle. How many hearts had learned
the wistful lesson in these aged halls? How many loves had been sheltered here?
He walked on air. He pinched himself—and even then was not certain that he was awake. It was too good to be true.
He was ushered into a large, sedately furnished room. A score of men were there before him—sitting or standing in attitudes of attention, listening to the words of General Braze. King’s entrance was the signal for an immediate transfer of interest. The General bowed most politely and at once turned to Count Halfont with the remark that he had quite finished his suggestions. The Prime Minister came forward to greet the momentarily shy American. King had time to note that the only man who denied him a smile of welcome was Count Vos Engo. He promptly included his rival in his own sweeping, self-conscious smile.
“The Council has been extolling you, Mr. King,” said the Prime Minister, leading him to a seat near his own. Truxton sat down, bewildered. “We may some day grow large enough to adequately appreciate the invaluable, service you have performed in behalf of Graustark.”
Truxton blushed. He could think of nothing to say, except: “I’m sorry to have been so late. I was detained.”
Involuntarily he glanced at Vos Engo. That gentleman started, a curious light leaping into his eyes.
“Mr. King, we have asked you here for the purpose of hearing the full story of your experiences during the past two weeks, if you will be so good as to relate them. We have had them piecemeal. I need not tell you that Graustark is in the deepest peril. If there is a single suggestion that you can make that will help her tonight, I assure you that it will be given the most grateful consideration. Graustark has come to know and respect the resourcefulness and courage of the American gentleman. We have seen him at his best.”
“I have really done no more than to—er—save my own neck,” said Truxton simply. “Any one might be excused for doing the same. Graustark owes a great deal more to Miss Tullis than it does to me, believe me, my lords. She had the courage, I the strength.”
“Be assured of our attitude toward Miss Tullis,” said Halfont in reply. “Graustark loves her. It can do no more than that. It is from Miss Tullis that we have learned the extent of your valorous achievements. Ah, my dear young friend, she has given you a fair name. She tells us of a miracle and we are convinced.”
Truxton stammered his remonstrances, but glowed with joy and pride.
“Here is the situation in a nutshell,” went on the Prime Minister. “We are doomed unless succor reaches us from the outside. We have discussed a hundred projects. While we are inactive, Count Marlanx is gaining more power and a greater hold over the people of the city. We have no means of communication with Prince Dantan of Dawsbergen, who is our friend. We seem unable to get warning to John Tullis, who, if given time, might succeed in collecting a sufficient force of loyal countrymen to harass and eventually overthrow the Dictator. Unless he is reached before long, John Tullis and his combined force of soldiers will be ambushed and destroyed. I am loth to speak of another alternative that has been discussed at length by the ministers and their friends. The Duke of Perse, from a bed of pain and anguish, has counselled us to take steps in the direction I am about to speak of. You see, we are taking you into our confidence, Mr. King.
“We can appeal to Russia in this hour of stress. Moreover, we may expect that help will be forthcoming. But we will have to make an unpleasant sacrifice. Russia is eager to take over our new issue of railway bonds. Hitherto, we have voted against disposing of the bonds in that country, the reason being obvious. St. Petersburg wants a new connecting line with her possessions in Afghanistan. Our line will provide a most direct route—a cut-off, I believe they call it. Last year the Grand Duke Paulus volunteered to provide the money for the construction of the line from Edelweiss north to Balak on condition that Russia be given the right to use the line in connection with her own roads to the Orient. You may see the advantage in this to Russia. Mr. King, if I send word to the Grand Duke Paulus, agreeing to his terms, which still remain open to us, signing away a most valuable right in what we had hoped would be our own individual property, we have every reason to believe that he will send armed forces to our relief, on the pretext that Russia is defending properties of her own. That is one way in which we may oust Count Marlanx. The other lies in the ability of John Tullis to give battle to him with our own people carrying the guns. I am confident that Count Marlanx will not bombard the Castle except as a last resort. He will attempt to starve us into submission first; but he will not destroy property if he can help it. I have been as brief as possible. Lieutenant Haddan has told us quite lately of a remark you made which he happened to overhear. If I quote him correctly, you said to the Englishman Hobbs that you could get away with it, meaning, as I take it, that you could succeed in reaching John Tullis. The remark interested me, coming as it did from one so resourceful. May I not implore you to tell us how you would go about it?”
Truxton had turned a brick red. Shame and mortification surged within him. He was cruelly conscious of an undercurrent of irony in the Premier’s courteous request. For an instant he was sorely crushed. A low laugh from the opposite side of the room sent a shaft to his soul. He looked up. Vos Engo was still smiling. In an instant the American’s blood boiled; his manner changed like a flash; blind, unreasoning bravado succeeded embarrassment.
He faced Count Halfont coolly, almost impudently.
“I think I was unfortunate enough to add that your men were going about it—well, like amateurs,” he said, with a frank smile. “I meant no offense.” Then he arose suddenly, adjusted his necktie with the utmost sang froid, and announced:
“I did say I could get to John Tullis. If you like, I’ll start tonight.”
His words created a profound impression, they came so abruptly. The men stared at him, then at each other. It was as if he had read their thoughts and had jumped at once to the conclusion that they were baiting him. Every one began talking at once. Soon some one began to shake his hand. Then there were cheers and a dozen handshakings. Truxton grimly realised that he had done just what they had expected him to do. He tried to look unconcerned.
“You will require a guide,” said Colonel Quinnox, who had been studying the degage American in the most earnest manner.
“Send for Mr. Hobbs, please,” said Truxton.
A messenger was sent post haste to the barracks. The news already was spreading throughout the Castle. The chamber door was wide open and men were coming and going. Eager women were peering through the doorway for a glimpse of the American.
“There should be three of us,” said King, addressing the men about him. “One of us is sure to get away.”
“There is not a man here—or in the service—who will not gladly accompany you, Mr. King,” cried General Braze quickly.
“Count Vos Engo is the man I would choose, if I may be permitted the honour of naming my companion,” said Truxton, grinning inwardly with a malicious joy.
Vos Engo turned a yellowish green. His eyes bulged.
“I—I am in command of the person of his Royal Highness,” he stammered, suddenly going very red.
“I had forgotten your present occupation,” said Truxton quietly. “Pray pardon the embarrassment I may have caused you. After all, I think Hobbs will do. He knows the country like a book. Besides, his business in the city must be very dull just now. He’ll be glad to have the chance to personally conduct me for a few days. As an American tourist, I must insist, gentlemen, on being personally conducted by a man from Cook’s.”
They did not know whether to laugh or to treat it as a serious announcement.
Mr. Hobbs came. That is to say, he was produced. It is doubtful if Mr. Hobbs ever fully recovered from the malady commonly known as stage fright. He had never been called Mr. Hobbs by a Prime Minister before, nor had he ever been asked in person by a Minister of War if he had a family at home. Moreover, no assemblage of noblemen had ever condescended to unite in three cheers for him. Afterward Truxton King was obliged
to tell him that he had unwaveringly volunteered to accompany him on the perilous trip to the hills. Be sure of it, Mr. Hobbs was not in a mental condition for many hours to even remotely comprehend what had taken place. He only knew that he had been invited, as an English gentleman, to participate in a council of war.
But Mr. Hobbs was not the kind to falter, once he had given his word; however hazy he may have been at the moment, he knew that he had volunteered to do something. Nor did it seem to surprise him when he finally found out what it was.
“We’ll be off at midnight, Hobbs,” said Truxton, feeling in his pocket for the missing watch.
“As you say, Mr. King, just as you say,” said Hobbs with fine indifference.
As Truxton was leaving the Castle ten minutes later, Hobbs having gone before to see to the packing of food-bags and the filling of flasks, a brisk, eager-faced young attendant hurried up to him.
“I bear a message from his Royal Highness,” said the attendant, detaining him.
“He should be sound asleep at this time,” said Truxton, surprised.
“His Royal Highness insists on staying awake as long as possible, sir. It is far past his bedtime, but these are troublesome times, he says. Every man should do his part. Prince Robin has asked for you, sir.”
“How’s that?”
“He desires you to appear before him at once, sir.”
“In—in the audience chamber?”
“In his bedchamber, sir. He is very sleepy, but says that you are to come to him before starting away on your mission of danger.”
“Plucky little beggar!” cried Truxton, his heart swelling with love for the royal youngster.
“Sir!” exclaimed the attendant, his eyes wide with amazement and reproof.
The George Barr McCutcheon Megapack: 25 Classic Novels and Stories Page 100