CHAPTER XIX
A TRAGI-COMEDY
The following morning found me in a saner mood once more, and I lay foran hour thinking and planning.
I hold that there are narcotics for mental pain just as for physical;and if the mind is healthy and the will resolute, one can generally befound. I had to find one then.
I did not make the mistake of attempting to underrate my loss. I knewI had had to give up what I prized more than anything in life. I lovedKarl with my whole heart; I knew indeed that I had never ceased to lovehim. The sweetest future which Fate could have offered me would havebeen to pass life by his side as his wife.
But the pain of knowing that this was impossible was now mingled withother emotions which tended to relieve it. There is always a pleasurein self-sacrifice, no matter how dear the thing renounced. I found asort of subtle comfort now in the thought that I had been strong enoughto do the right thing; to put away from me firmly the delights I wouldhave given half my life to enjoy; to act from a higher motive than merepersonal desire.
The sense of self-denial was thus my mental narcotic; and I sought withall my strength to dwell upon the intense gratification of theknowledge that I had been instrumental in helping Karl at the crucialcrisis of his life. His country had need of him; and that he would nowplay his part manfully, would be in a degree my work. That was myconsolation.
I could claim truthfully that no selfish motives had swayed me. Theclearance of my father's good name had ceased now to be more than asolemn duty to him. The loss of Karl had rendered me indifferent toany considerations merely personal to myself.
In regard to Gareth, too, my chief desire was to see justice done her.Accident, or perhaps rather Fate, had put into my hands the weaponswith which to fight the man who was menacing both her and me; and Icould claim to have made no selfish use of them. The thought of herbrought back with it the necessity to gather up the threads and carrymy purpose to success. The end was not far off now.
I had first to anticipate what Count Gustav would do after the strokehe had meant to deal the previous night. I was convinced that he hadplotted nothing less than that Colonel Katona should kill Karl underthe belief that he had wronged Gareth.
I could follow the steps which had led to this. When, at Madamed'Artelle's, I had let Count Gustav see the Colonel alone, he had givena false message that I would send the information. Having thusprepared him to expect news, he had written him in my name that the manwho had wronged Gareth was about to marry another woman, and had givensuch details of the elopement as would enable the Colonel to witness itand thus identify the man he sought.
This explained something that had puzzled me--why the pretence of theelopement had been persisted in when my apparent departure haddestroyed the necessity for any such secrecy. The elopement had becomea vital part of the subtle scheme to reveal Gareth's betrayer to herfather.
Then to give countenance to it all, Count Gustav had sent as if from methe letter of Gareth's which the Colonel had brought with him and givento me. I read it now. It was to Count von Ostelen, of course; and init Gareth poured out her tender heart to the husband she knew andaddressed as Karl.
It was a cunningly planned scheme; and had Madame d'Artelle really cometo the villa, it would almost certainly have succeeded. But thequestion now was--What would be Count Gustav's next move?
He would believe that Karl was dead--assassinated by the Colonel in hisfrenzy. That started another suggestion. If murder had been done, allin the house would have been implicated; and Count Gustav was quitecapable of using the deed for a further purpose. He would have had theColonel arrested for the murder and so prevented from causing furthertrouble; and he would also have got rid of Madame d'Artelle, theaccomplice he had used for his brother's undoing, by charging her withcomplicity in the crime. His path would then have been free indeed.
He had frightened me away from the city, as he believed; and if I everreturned it would be only to find everything buried in that secrecywhich those in power and high places know how to secure.
What would he do when he came to the house and found me there alone andhelpless to resist him? I could not doubt for an instant. I should bearrested on some charge and shut up until I disclosed to him Gareth'swhereabouts and everything I knew of the matter.
I would act on that presumption--except that I would force his hand inone direction and safeguard myself in another.
I rose and dressed myself hurriedly. I knew Madame d'Artelle'shandwriting, and with great pains I imitated it as closely as I couldin a brief, but to him very significant note.
"For Heaven's sake come here at once. A terrible thing has happened.I am beside myself with horror.
"HENRIETTE D'ARTELLE."
The writer's distracted state of mind would account for anydiscrepancies in the handwriting; and I succeeded at the third orfourth attempt in producing something like a resemblance to hersignature.
This letter I sent by James Perry; and with it another to General vonErlanger.
I gave him the address, "Unter den Linden," and wrote:--
"I shall probably be in great danger here at about eleven o'clock thismorning. Will you be near this house at that time so that at need theservant who brings this may find you and bring you to me. You willplease know nothing except that you have been asked to come to yourformer governess who is in trouble.
"Your friend who trusts in you, "CHRISTABEL VON DRESCHLER."
I told James to get an answer from his Excellency; and despatched himupon his errand at an hour which I calculated would bring Count Gustavto the house by about ten o'clock. I allowed an hour for the interviewto reach the crisis to which I intended to work.
In the meanwhile, I told the elder Perry to drive to my own house andascertain that all was well with Gareth.
Then I went into the room in which Colonel Katona had been and pulleddown the blinds, closed the shutters and drew the curtains so that itshould be as dark as possible; and coming out locked the door behind meand put the key in my pocket.
Having thus set matters in train I sat down and made an excellentbreakfast, anticipating considerable enjoyment from the little comedy Ihad designed.
I was going to fool Count Gustav and then anger and mystify him. Hewas, I knew, a dangerous person to play tricks with; but I had no causeto be afraid of him. I was quite prepared to be arrested, and I wishedto lull his suspicions and foster his over-confidence.
Thinking things over, another point occurred to me. If the two Perrysremained in the house, they would be arrested with me. Therefore, whenthe father returned with the good news that all was well with Gareth, Isent him home at once and told him not to come back.
James Perry arrived just before ten o'clock. He brought me a verysatisfactory assurance that the General would do just as I asked; andsaid that the Count Gustav had told him he would come to the houseimmediately.
"Now, James, things are going to happen here this morning," I said,explaining an idea which had occurred to me. "I shall probably bearrested, and you will share that arrest if you are in the house. Youare a very shrewd, quick-witted fellow, and you must manage not to beseen, but to remain near enough to the front of the house to hear awindow broken. I may not be able to show myself at the window andsignal to you; but I am sure to be able to manage to throw somethingthrough the window; and the moment you hear the crash of the glass, youare to fetch General von Erlanger to me, and then hurry off to myhouse."
I calculated that it would be a very simple matter for me to pretend tofly into a passion at the moment of any crisis, and to so work myselfup that it would seem a natural enough thing for me to hurl somethingsolid at Gustav and, missing him, to break the window. Hooked roundfor a suitable missile, and selected a very solid glass ink bottle.
Count Gustav kept his word and arrived a few minutes after I had sentJames Perry away. I had left the front door partly open, so that hemight not have to ask for Madame d'Artelle; and he walked right in,
tried the door of the room I had locked, and then entered that where Iwas waiting for him.
His surprise at seeing me was complete. Had I been a ghost, he couldnot have stared at me in greater amazement.
"Good-morning, Count Gustav, I am glad you have come."
"Where is Madame d'Artelle?" he asked, very sharply.
"It is scant courtesy not to return my greeting. You are probably sosurprised as to forget your manners. You had better find her foryourself," and affecting irritation, I turned away and picked up a book.
"Good-morning, Miss--what name shall I use now?" he replied with asneer.
"You may use either Gilmore or von Dreschler as you please. Names areof small account after what has happened here."
"Where is Madame d'Artelle?"
"She has done that which might be expected of her in a crisis likethis--run away. She is probably across the frontier now."
"But I have just had a letter from her begging me to come here at once;written evidently in great agitation."
"There are enough hours in a night to allow of many short letters beingwritten. She was intensely agitated when she fled!"
"_You_ seem to be cool enough."
"My nerves are of a different order from hers. Besides, _I_ havenothing to fear in all this."
"How is it that you are here at all?"
"I am not Madame d'Artelle, and therefore not accountable for myactions or movements to you."
"You left Pesth yesterday--when did you return?"
"If you consult a time table you can see at what hours the trains reachthe city, and can judge for yourself which I was likely to be in."
"You can answer me or not, as you please," he said angrily; "but youwill have to account for your presence here."
"Why?" and I looked at him meaningly. He passed the question off witha shrug of the shoulders.
"That is your first mistake, Count Gustav. You must keep your temperbetter than that, or it will betray you."
He affected to laugh; but there was no laughter in his eyes.
"Well, if Madame was only fooling me with her letter I suppose I may aswell go again," he said lightly.
"You know that you have no thought of going. Why are you afraid to putthe questions which are so close to your lips?"
I was getting my thrusts well home each time, and was goading him toanger, as well as starting his fears of me.
"Why was that letter written?"
"Because of what has happened here."
"What has happened?"
"Yes, that is one of the questions. I can tell you." I paused andadded slowly: "The man you sent here came to do the work you planned."
He bit his lip hard, and his hands gripped the back of the chair behindwhich he stood. "You delight in mysteries, I know," he sneered.
"Your sneer does not hide the effect of my news, Count Gustav. Youknow there is no mystery in that for you--and there is none for me.Put your second question."
"What do you mean? I don't understand you."
"That is not true. You want to ask me where your brother is."
"I'll ask that or any other if you wish," he replied, attempting ajaunty, indifferent air. "Where is he?"
"God have more mercy on you than you had on him. You have already seenthe answer to your question in the drawn blinds of the room where youlast saw him alive."
Strive as he would he could not but shrink under my words and tone.His fingers strained on the chair back, his breath laboured, his colourfled, and his eyes--those hardy, laughing, dare-devil eyes--fell beforemy gaze. He had to pause and moisten his lips before he could reply.
"If you mean that any harm has come to him," he said, speaking at firstwith difficulty and hesitation, but gathering firmness as he proceeded;"there will be a heavy reckoning for some one. Who is in the housebeside you?" He did not dare to look up yet.
"You coward!" I cried, with all the contempt I felt.
This stung him to fury. "If you have had a hand in this and seek toshield yourself by abusing me, it will not help you. I tell you that."
"Seek to shield myself! I should not stoop to seek so paltry a shieldas you could be, whether you were white with fear or flushed withselfish purpose. I do not need a shield. I know the truth, CountGustav. I know all your part in it, from your motive to the finalconsummation of your treacherous plan. And what I know to-day, allAustria, all the world, shall know to-morrow."
That was enough. He looked up then, his eyes full of hate of me. Isaw his purpose take life and shape in his thoughts. If with safety tohimself, he could have struck me down as I stood facing him, he wouldhave done it; but he had what he believed a safer plan in his mind. Tohave me imprisoned and the secret buried with me.
His new purpose gave him clearer directness of thought at once, and hebegan to work toward it cunningly. "I can understand and let pass yourwild sayings at such a moment, Miss Gilmore. Such a thing as this has,of course, unstrung you..."
"Oh, it is to be a madhouse, is it," I broke in, interpreting for himhis secret thought. "I had expected only a prison. You cannot do it,Count Gustav. I am prepared."
But my jeer did not move him. The force of his first surprise wasspent, and he was now close set upon the use he intended to make of mypresence. He knew the peril which my threat held for him.
"It is singular under the circumstances that you regard yourself indanger of imprisonment, Miss Gilmore; I hope not significant. If youwould like to offer any explanation, it is of course open to you to doso."
"I think it probable that there will be an explanation before youleave, Count Gustav; but what in particular should I explain now?"
"We shall require one of--what you say has happened here. Who is inthe house?"
"Myself and the servants."
"The manservant was sent away and his place taken by another. By whoseorders?"
"Mine."
"I shall need to see him."
"Like Madame d'Artelle, he has gone."
"He was here last night?"
"Certainly."
He shrugged his shoulders. The answer suited him admirably. "He wasin your employ," he said, drily.
"I have nothing to conceal," I replied, putting as much doggedness intomy manner as a guilty person might have used at the first glimpse ofthe net closing round him.
"It is a very grave case."
"I can see that--but I know who did what was done as well as whoinstigated it."
"You were a witness of it, you mean?"
"Of course I mean nothing of the kind. I did not see the blow struck;but I was not asleep at the time; and the instant the alarm was given Iwas on the spot, and I can identify all concerned."
"Who do you say struck the blow?"
"I did not say. But you know perfectly well the man you sent here tostrike it. And so do I."
"You actually charge me with being concerned in having my own brotherassassinated?" he cried with well assumed indignation. "It isinfamous!"
"Infamous, of course--but true."
"I mean such a charge, madam," he declared, sternly. "I will speak nofurther with you. You will of course remain here until the agents ofthe police arrive."
"I have no wish to leave. I tell you I am innocent."
"You at least are found here alone; you admit having fled from the cityyesterday and returned surreptitiously; you brought your own man hereand sent my brother's away; you have a motive strong enough to accountfor all in your resentment of my brother's treatment of you; and youseek to put the foulness upon me with an elaborate story that you knowthe man who did this to have been brought here by me."
"It has a very ugly look, I admit--but there is a flaw in it, none theless."
"That is for others to investigate, madam. I will go to the room. Itis locked. Where is the key?"
I took it from my pocket and handed it to him.
"Another significant fact," he said, as we went out of the room andcrossed the hall. "I will
go in alone."
"No, I have a right to be present."
"It is most unseemly; as unseemly as your smile. My poor Karl." Hespoke as if he were genuinely dismayed at the blow, sighed deeply,paused to brace himself for the task, and then entered.
The room was gloomy enough to make it impossible to see anythingclearly; but I had arranged the sofa pillow on the couch and covered itwith the rug.
He was really affected; although not in the way he intended me tobelieve. He crossed slowly to the couch and stood by it, as if lackingcourage to turn back the rug.
I went to the window and drawing the curtain let the blind up and thesunlight in.
He was now very pale, and his hands twitched restlessly.
"You do not dare to look on the brother whose murder you planned," Isaid, with cold distinctness.
"How dare you say that, at such a time, madam," he cried fiercely; andtaking the rug he turned it back gently.
I laughed.
The laugh so enraged him that he tore off the rug and swore a deep,heavy oath.
"What does this mean?"
"That I think we may pull up the rest of the blinds and open thewindows and let the fresh air in;" and with another laugh I did as Isaid.
I turned to find him overcome by the sudden reaction from the strainand the new problem I had set. He was sitting on the couch with hisface buried in his hands.