XV. APPROACH OF THE CRISIS
Prince Ugo's face was livid, and his black eyes bulged withhorrified amazement. The unscrupulous, daring, infallible duelistwhom he had induced to try conclusions with Quentin in a regular andeffective way, had been overthrown at the outset by a most peculiartransaction of fate. He had assured the Russian that Quentin was nomatch for him with the weapons common to dueling, and he had led himto believe that he was in little danger of injury, much less death.Kapolski, reckless, a despiser of all things American, eagerlyconsented to the plan, and Ugo saw a way to rid himself of adangerous rival without the taint of suspicion besmirching hiscloak. Sallaconi was an accomplished swordsman, but it would havebeen unwise to send him against Quentin. Ugo himself was a splendidshot and an expert with the blade, and it was not cowardice thatkept him from taking the affair in his own hands. It was wisdom,cunning wisdom, that urged him to stand aloof and to go up to hiswedding day with no scandal at his back. But the unexpected, themiraculous had happened. His friend, his brother prince, hisunwitting tool, had gone down like a log, his vaunted skillsurpassed by the marksmanship and courage of an accursed American.
To his credit be it said that he did all in his power to preservethe life of Prince Kapolski. More than that, he did all that waspossible to keep the story of the encounter from reaching the world.So powerful, so successful was his influence that the world at largeknew nothing of the fight, the police were bribed, and thenewspapers were thrown completely off the scent.
Ugo's first thought after the fall of Kapolski was to prevent hisopponent from leaving the room alive, but common sense came to hisrelief a second later, and he saw the folly of taking a standagainst the victor. He rushed to Kapolski's side and helped tosupport the moaning man's body. The surgeon was there an instantlater, and Dickey, as white as a ghost, started mechanically towardthe fallen foe. Ouentin stood like a man of stone, stunned by reliefand surprise. One glance at the bloody, lacerated face and therolling eyes caused Savage to flee as if pursued by devils.
For hours Quentin and Turk sought to comfort and to quiet him; themillionaire, who refused to desert them, sat up all night to managethe information bureau, as he called it. He personally inquired atUgo's rooms, and always brought back reassuring news, which Quentindoubted and Dickey utterly disbelieved At four o'clock Prince Ugohimself, with Duke Laselli, came to Quentin's rooms with the wordthat Kapolski was to be taken to a hospital, and that Dr. Gassbeckpronounced his chance for recovery excellent. The prince assured Mr.Savage that secrecy would be preserved, but advised him to leaveBrussels at the earliest possible moment. Kapolski's death, if itcame, would command an investigation, and it would be better if hewere where the law could not find him.
Quentin with difficulty restrained from openly accusing the princeof duplicity. Afterthought told him how impotent his accusationwould have been, for how could he prove that the Russian was actingas an agent?
Just before daylight Turk saw them take Prince Kapolski from thehotel in an ambulance, and, considering it his duty, promptlyfollowed in a cab. The destination of the ambulance was the sidestreet entrance to one of the big hospitals in the upper part of thetown, and the men who accompanied the prince were strangers to thelittle observer. Prince Ugo was not of the party, nor were Laselliand Sallaconi. On his return to the Bellevue he had a fresh task onhis hands. He was obliged to carry a man from Quentin's apartmentsand put him to bed in the millionaire's room, farther down the hall.The millionaire--for it was he--slept all day and had a headacheuntil the thirtieth of the month. Turk put him to bed on thetwenty-seventh.
During the forenoon Prince Ugo and Count Sallaconi called atQuentin's rooms. They found that gentleman and Mr. Savage dressedand ready for the street.
"Good morning," said Dickey, pleasantly, for the two Americans haddetermined to suppress, for diplomatic reasons, any show ofhostility toward the Italians. The visitors may not have exposedtheir true feelings, but they were very much astounded and not alittle shocked to find the duelist and his friend in the best ofspirits.
"And how did you sleep?" asked Ugo, after he had expressed hissorrow over the little unpleasantry of the night before, deploringthe tragic ending to the night of pleasure.
"Like a top," lied Dickey, cheerfully.
"I was afraid the excitement might have caused you great uneasinessand--ah--dread," said the prince. The count was industriouslyengaged in piercing with his glittering eyes the tapestry in a farcorner of the room. Mr. Savage possessed the manner of a man whoshoots someone every morning before breakfast.
"Not in the least; did it, Quentin?"
"He slept like a baby."
"By the way, before I forget it, Prince Ugo, how is the gentleman Ishot last night--ah, what was his name?" asked Dickey, slapping hisleg carelessly with his walking stick.
"Prince Kapolski is in the hospital, and I fear he cannot recover,"said the prince. "I came to tell you this that you may actaccordingly and with all the haste possible."
"O, I don't know why I should run away. Everybody there will testifythat the fight was forced upon me. You will swear to that, yourself,Prince Ugo, and so will the count. I had to fight, you know."
"It seems to me, Mr. Savage, that you were rather eager to fight. Icannot vouch for your safety if the prince dies," said Ugo, coolly.
"But he isn't going to die. I did not shoot to kill and the ball hithim just where I intended it should--on the chin. He'll be well in acouple of weeks. True, he may not feel like eating tough beefsteakwith that jaw for some time, but I knew a fellow once who was ableto eat very comfortably after six weeks. That was as good a shot asI ever made, Phil," said Dickey, reflectively.
"I think Buckner's nose was a cleaner shot. It wasn't nearly sodisgusting," said Phil.
"Do you mean to say you are able to hit a man just where youplease?" demanded the count.
"Provided he does not hit me first," said Mr. Savage. "Gentlemen,let me order up a quiet little drink. I am afraid the unfortunateaffair of last night has twisted your nerves a bit. It was ratherghastly, wasn't it?"
When the four parted company in front of the hotel, a quarter of anhour later, the two Italians sat down to reflect. They wonderedwhether Mr. Savage usually carried a pistol in his pocket, and theyagreed that if he did have one of his own he would be much moreaccurate with it than with a strange one, such as he had used thenight before. The two Americans were not jubilant as they strolledup the street. They had put on a very bold front but they weresaying to themselves that Kapolski's death would be a verydisastrous calamity. Cold perspiration stood on Dickey's brow and hedevoutly prayed that his victim would recover.
"I'd feel like a butcher to the last day of my life," he groaned.
"The big brute got what he deserved, Dickey, but that isn't going torelieve us if he should die. Prince Ugo would use it as an excuse todrive you out of Europe and, of course, I would not desert you. Itwas my affair and you were unlucky enough to get into it. There isone thing that puzzles me. I directly insulted Ravorelli last night.Why does he not challenge me? He must be positive that I recognizehim as Pavesi and can ruin him with a word. I am told he is aremarkable shot and swordsman, and I don't believe he is a coward."
"Why should he risk his head or his heart if he can induce other mento fight for him?"
"But it seems that he has traitors in his camp. I wonder who thatwaiter was?"
After a long silence Dickey dolefully asked: "Say, do you believethe Saxondales turned me down on that shooting box party?"
"I can't believe it. All is well between you and Lady Jane, ofcourse?"
"As well as it can ever be," said the other, looking straight ahead,his jaws set.
"Oho! Is it all off?"
"Is what all off?" belligerently.
"O, if you don't know, I won't insist on an answer. I merelysuspected a thickness."
"That we were getting thick, you mean? You were never more mistakenin your life. The chances are I'll never see her again. That's notvery thick, i
s it?"
"I saw a letter just now for you, in my box at the hotel. Lookedlike a young woman's chirography, and it was from London--"
"Why the devil didn't you tell me it was there?" exploded Dickey.
"Does Lady Jane make an R that looks like a streak of lightning withall sorts of angles?"
"She makes a very fashionable--what do you mean by inspecting mymail? Are you establishing a censorship?" Dickey was guilty of anunheard of act--for him. He was blushing.
"My boy, I did not know it was your property until after I hadcarefully deciphered every letter in the name. I agree with you; shewrites a very fashionable alphabet. The envelope looked thick, tosay the least. It must contain a huge postscript."
"Or a collection of all the notes I have written to her. I'll goback, if you don't mind, however. I'm curious to know who it'sfrom."
Dickey went back to read his voluminous letter, and Quentin seatedhimself on a bench in the park. A voice from behind brought himsharply from a long reverie.
"Mr. Quentin, last night, possibly in the heat of excitement, youinferred that I was in some way accountable for the controversywhich led to the meeting between Prince Kapolski and your friend. Itrust that I misunderstood you."
Quentin was on his feet and facing Prince Ravorelli before theremark was fairly begun, and he was thinking with greater rapiditythan he had ever thought before. He was surprised to find Ugo, suaveand polite as ever, deliberately, coolly rushing affairs to aclimax. His sudden decision to abandon the friendly spirit exhibitedbut half an hour before was as inexplicable as it was critical. Whatfresh inspiration had caused him to alter his position?
"We say many things when we are under stress of excitement," saidPhil, sparring for time and his wits. Count Sallaconi was standingdeferentially beside the prince. Both gentlemen had their hats intheir hands, and the air was pregnant with chill formality.
"Can you recall my words, Prince Ravorelli?"
"You said that you would hold him to account if your friend--" beganthe count, but Quentin turned upon him coolly.
"My quarrel, if there is one, is with the prince, Count Sallaconi.Will you kindly allow him to jog his own memory?"
"I do not like your tone, Mr. Quentin," said the count, his eyesflashingly angrily. Phil's blood was up. He saw it was useless totemporize, and there was no necessity for disguising his truefeelings. They had come to the point where all that had lainsmothered and dormant was to be pricked into activity; the mask wasto be thrown down with the gauntlet.
"So much the better; you are not in doubt as to what I meant. Now,Prince Ravorelli, may I ask you to speak plainly?"
"Your remark of last night was one that I believe I would bejustified in resenting," said the prince, flicking the ash from hiscigarette, but not taking his burning eyes from Quentin's face.There was not a tinge of cowardice in his eyes.
"It is your privilege, sir, and I meant precisely what I said."
"Then I have to demand of you an apology and a satisfctoryexplanation."
"'I presume it would be travesty on politeness if I were to ask youto be seated, so we may stand up to each other and talk it over. Inthe first place, I have no apology to make. In the second place, Icannot give an explanation that would be satisfactory to you. Lastnight I said I would hold you to account if Mr. Savage was hurt. Hewas not hurt, so I will not carry out my threat, if you choose tocall it such."
"You enlarge the insult, Mr. Quentin," said Ugo, with a deadly tonein his voice.
"You may as well know, Prince Ravorelli, that I have long beenacquainted with the fact that you bear me no good will. Frankly, youregard me as a man dangerous to your most cherished aspirations, andyou know that I heard Giovanni Pavesi sing in days gone by. You havenot been manly enough to meet me fairly, up to this instant. I amperfectly well aware that Prince Kapolski was your guest last nightfor no other purpose than to bring about an affray in which I was tohave been the victim of his prowess and your cleverness."
For a moment the two men glared at each other, immovably,unwaveringly. Prince Ugo's composure did not suffer the faintestrelaxation under the direct charge of the American.
"My only reply to that assertion is that you lie," he said, slowly.
"This is a public place, Prince Ugo. I will not knock you downhere."
"It is not necessary for me to give you my card. Count Sallaconiwill arrange the details with any friend you may name. You shallgive me satisfaction for the aspersion you have cast upon my honor."He was turning away when Quentin stepped quickly in front of him.
"If you mean that you expect me to fight a duel with you, I must sayyou are to suffer disappointment. I do not believe in duelling, andI believe only in killing a man when there is no other alternative.To deliberately set about to shoot another man down is not ourmethod of settling an issue. We either murder in cold blood or wefight it out like men, not like stage heroes."
"I will add then, sir, that you are a coward."
"I have been brave enough to refrain from hiring men to do myfighting. We will fight, Prince Ravorelli, but we will not fightwith weapons made by man. You call me a coward and I call you ascoundrel. We have hands and arms and with them we shall fight."
"Count Sallaconi is my second, I do not care to hear another word--"
"If Count Sallaconi comes to me with any ridiculous challenge fromyou, I'll knock him down and kick him across the street. My friendshot the face off of your poor tool last night. I do not care torepeat the tragedy. I shall not strike you here and now, because theact might mean my arrest and detention on no one knows what sort ofa trumped-up charge. You need not bother me with any silly twaddleabout swords and pistols I shall pay no attention to it. OrdinarilyAmericans do not delay actual combat. We usually fight it out on thespot and the best man wins. I will, however, give you the chance todeliberate over my proposition to settle our differences with ourhands."
Ravorelli calmly heard him to the end. Then he turned and strodeaway, smiling derisively.
"You are the only American coward I have ever seen. I trust youappreciate, the distinction," he said, his white teeth showing inmalicious ridicule. "Your friend, the hero of last night, should beproud of you."
Quentin watched them until they were lost in the crowd near thePalace, his brain full of many emotions. As he walked into the hotelhis only thought was of Dorothy and the effect the quarrel wouldhave on their friendship.
"Which will she choose?" he mused, after narrating to Savage theepisode of the park. For the first time Dickey noticed the pallor inhis face, the despair in his eyes, the wistful lines about his lips.
"There's only one way to find out, old man," said he, and he did notsucceed in disguising the hopelessness in his voice.
"Yes, I guess I'm up to the last trench. I'm right where I have tomake the final stand, let the result be what it may," said theother, dejectedly.
"Don't give up, Phil. If you are to win, it will take more couragethan you are showing now. A bold front will do more than anythingelse just at this stage. The result depends not entirely on howeager she is to become a princess, but how much she cares for theman who cannot make her a princess."
"There's the rub. Does she care enough for me?"
"Have you asked her how much she cares?"
"No."
"Then, don't ask. Merely go and tell her that you know how much shecares. Go this afternoon, old man. O, by the way, Lady Jane sendsher love to you, and wants to know if you will come with me toOstend to-morrow to meet her and Lady Saxondale."