XI FIRST BLOOD
The Archduke knew where to find his Aide, so he waved aside the servantand went on to the billiard room.
"Don't mind me, boys," he said, as they sprang up; "go on with thedeal--unless," motioning toward Bernheim's big pile of chips, "you wantto be relieved of the beginner."
"Your Highness is ready to go?" Bernheim asked.
Armand nodded. "But that mustn't take you away; luck's with you, it's acrime to desert her--I know the way home."
The Colonel pushed his winnings into the centre of the table.
"I have to thank you for a delightful evening, messieurs," he said, withhis stiff, military bow; "and since I must leave before the end of thegame, I make a John-pot of these for you."
The Archduke took him by the arm.
"You may not do that, Colonel," he laughed; "they cannot let you. Youmust cash in, and give them a chance some other time."
"But it is my pleasure, sir, for them to have back what I won."
"And it will be their pleasure to take it back," said Armand kindly, "butnot in that way--they must win it back from you."
Bernheim drew himself up. "I understand, sir," he said.--"Messieurs, Isalute you."
When they came out on the Avenue, a fine rain was blowing in clouds, butthe Archduke declined the servant's offer to ring the stables for acarriage. The street was deserted; not a pedestrian, nor even a cab, wasin sight, either way. Both men wrapped their capes around them, andstrode off toward the Epsau.
"A dirty night, sir," the Colonel observed--"it might have been well totake the carriage."
"I like it," said Armand; "to walk in the rain or to ride in the snow."
"The snow, yes--but we don't have much of it in Dornlitz--one must go tothe mountains in the North--to Lotzenia--for it."
"My dear cousin's country!"
"His titular estates--but not his country," said Bernheim. "He has theold castle on the Dreer and a huge domain--that King Frederick's fathergave to Lotzen's father in a foolish moment of generosity--but he hasn'tthe heart of a single inhabitant; indeed, until his banishment there, Ithink he had never even seen the place. But with the old castle ofDalberg, across the valley--the cradle of your race, sir--it's verydifferent. Who rules there is the idol of the Lotzenians; he is theirhereditary lord; and they can never forget that he belonged to thembefore he took the Crown, and that they helped him in the taking."
"And now that there is no king, whom will they serve until the new lordcomes?"
Bernheim raised his cap.
"Her Royal Highness the Regent--until they serve you."
No man could be quite insensible to all that this implied of kinglypower, and the traditional homage of inherited devotion, the hot love forhim who was born their chief--given them of God, and their own before allothers. The Archduke's fingers closed a bit tighter on his stick, hisblood pulsed faster, and the stubborn spirit of old Hugo awoke to newlife; and in that moment, in the dead of night, with the rain whippingaround them, as it wrapped the city in a cloud of glowing mist, he turnedhis face forever from his old life, its memories and methods, and passedfinally into the New, its high destiny, its privileges, itsresponsibilities, its dangers and its cares. He would make this fight inthe Duke's own fashion, and end it in the Duke's own way; if he fell inthe ending, he would see to it that the Duke fell first; not that hecared for his company in the out-going--though, doubtless, it wouldmatter little then--but because it were not well to leave him behind toplague the kingdom with his viciousness.
They now had left the more modern portion of the Avenue and were in theolder section, where the houses were smaller and stood only a little wayfrom the sidewalk; though occasionally a more pretentious one was set farback, with trees and shrubbery around it, and a wall before, hiding italmost entirely from the street.
In front of one of these residences, the Archduke suddenly stopped andcaught Bernheim's arm.
"Listen!" he said, "I heard a cry."
Bernheim, too, had heard it, but he was not minded to let his masterknow.
"It was the wind, doubtless, sir," he said.
"No, it wasn't the wind--it was a voice, and a woman's voice, I thought."
A blast of rain and mist swept by them and through the trees, stirringthe leaves into a rustling as of the sighs of disembodied spirits, whilethe swaying street lights flung the shadows hither and thither likepursuing cerecloths struggling to re-shroud them in their forsaken garb.
Bernheim looked around to fix the location.
"It's the De Saure house," he said, "and has been unoccupied formonths--Your Highness must have been mistaken."
The Archduke moved on. "Doubtless, the wind plays queer tricks with soundon such a night; yet my ears rarely deceive me."
They were passing the wide entrance gates, and he went nearer and peeredwithin--and as though in answer, from out the darkness came the shriek ofone in awful terror.
"Don't strike me again! For God's sake don't strike me!"
The Archduke seized the gate.
"Come on, Bernheim," he exclaimed; "it is a woman."
The Aide caught his arm.
"Don't, sir," he said; "don't--it is nothing for you to mix in--it is forthe police."
Armand made no answer; he was trying to find the latch.
"I pray Your Highness to refrain," Bernheim begged; "an Archduke--"
"Help! For God's sake help!" came the cry.
The latch yielded, and Armand flung back the gate.
"Come on," he ordered, "I'm a man, and yonder a woman calls."
He sprang down the path toward the house, which he could see now in blackforbiddingness among the trees far back from the street.
Again Bernheim ventured to protest.
"It may be Lotzen's trap, sir," he warned.
For the shadow of an instant the Archduke hesitated; and at that momentthe voice rang out again.
"Don't strike me! Don't str--" and a gurgling choke ended it.
"To the devil with Lotzen!" he exclaimed, and dashed on.
And Bernheim, with a silent curse, went beside him, loosening his swordas he ran, and feeling for the small revolver he had slipped inside histunic, before they left the Epsau. To him, now, everything of mystery ordanger spelled Lotzen--but even if it were not he, there was troubleenough ahead, and scandal enough, too, likely; scandal in which theGovernor of Dornlitz, an Archduke, may be the King, had no place, andwhich could serve only to injure him before the people and in the esteemof the Nobles. Better that half the women in Dornlitz should be beatenand choked than that his master should be smirched by the tongue ofcalumny. He had no patience with this Quixotism that succored foolishfemales at foolish hours, in a place where neither the female nor theyhad any right to enter--and where, for her, at least, to enter was acrime. If he were able, he would have picked the Archduke up bodily, andborne him back to the palace, and have left the infernal woman to shiftfor herself, and to save herself or not, as her luck might rule.
Then they brought up suddenly in front of the house; and as they pausedto find the steps, a light flashed, for an instant, from the upperwindows, and disappeared--as if an electric switch had been turned on,and off again. But its life had been long enough to show the broadentrance porch, and the big doors beyond it--and that they were openwide.
At the sight, Bernheim swore a good round oath and seized the Archduke'sarm.
"It's a trap, my lord, it's a trap!" he exclaimed.
And again Armand hesitated; and again the cry came, though muffled nowand indistinct.
"We will have to chance it," he said, "I can't desert a woman who callsfor help."
"Very well, sir," said Bernheim, knowing that further opposition wasuseless, "but if it is a trap, she'll be the first I kill."
They went softly up the steps and into the vestibule; not a sound camefrom within.
"Are you familiar with this house?" the Archduke whispered.
&nb
sp; "Very, sir; I've been in it scores of times--salon on right, dining roomand library opposite."
"And the stairs?"
"In the rear, on the left."
"Can you find the electric switch?"
The Colonel drew his revolver and stepped quickly inside; he knew therewas a row of buttons near the library door, and he found them readily.With a single motion he pushed them in, and every chandelier andside-light in the entire lower floor sprang to life--illuminating rooms,solitary and undisturbed.
Over the mantel in the library hung a pair of beautiful old duellingrapiers, and the Archduke snatched one down and tried its balance; thentook the other and handed it to Bernheim.
"Take it, man," he said, as the Colonel touched his own sword; "take it,it's worth an armory of those; its reach alone may save your life, if weare crowded." He made a pass in the air and laughed--it was sweet anytime to feel the hilt of such a weapon, but now it was doubly sweet, withdanger ahead and the odds he knew not what. He pointed upward.
"Come along," he said--"now for the next floor and the clash of steel."
But Bernheim shook his head.
"I pray you, my lord, be prudent," he urged--"remember, to us you are theKing."
Faintly, from somewhere above, the cry came--weak and suppressed, butaudible.
"Help! oh help!"
"Damn the woman!" Bernheim exclaimed, dashing forward to go first; andfailing, by four steps.
The upper hall was dark, save for the reflection from below, but Armandcaught the sheen of a switch plate and pressed the key. Five closed doorsconfronted him--without hesitation he chose the rear one on the right,and sprang toward it.
As he did so, the lights on the first floor went out, the front doorsclosed with a bang, and a key turned in the lock and was withdrawn.Instinctively he stopped and drew back; at the same moment, Bernheimreached over and turned off their lights also, leaving the house inimpenetrable darkness.
The Archduke stepped quickly across toward Bernheim, and bumped into himmid-way.
"It's a trap," he whispered; "the locking of the door proves it--theserooms are empty, but we'll have a look and not be caught between twofires."
"Damn the woman!" said Bernheim.
Armand laughed softly. "Never mind her, we have other work on hand now.You keep the stairway; put your sword into any one who tries to come up;I'll go through the rooms," and he was gone before the Colonel couldprotest.
Bernheim tip-toed over to the head of the stairs and, leaning on therail, listened. He could detect no sound in the hall below; the silencewas as utter as the blackness. He stooped and felt the carpet on thestairs; it was soft and very thick, the sort that deadens noise. Behindhim, a door closed softly, and he saw the gleam of a faint light along asill, and, in a moment, along another further toward the front.Evidently, the Archduke had met no misadventure yet. And so he stoodthere, tense and expectant, while the darkness pressed hard upon hiseyes, and set them burning with the strain of striving to pierce through.
Presently he felt that some one was coming toward him, and then thefaintest whisper spoke his name. He reached out, and his fingers touchedthe Archduke's shoulder.
Armand put his mouth close to his Aide's ear.
"Rooms deserted," he whispered--"what's on the third floor?"
"It's a mere garret; the servants quarters are in a detached building inthe rear."
"We'll chance the garret--I laid a chair across the foot of thosestairs--and also at the head of the back stairs--anything doing below?"
"Quiet as the grave, sir."
"An apt simile, Bernheim," said the Archduke; "there is going to be adeath or two down there to-night, if we can manage it--just as a gentlenotice to our cousin of what he may expect."
The old soldier's hand sought impulsively his master's.
"You mean it, my lord?" he asked eagerly.
"I do; I'm----" a stair creaked very faintly--"they're coming," he ended.
Both men bent forward listening ... the seconds passed ... no sound cameto them. Then Bernheim bethought himself of the rail, and laid his earupon it. Instantly he was up.
"They are coming," he whispered, "I could hear them distinctly."
"Good," said Armand. "We will give them the steel as soon as they'rewithin reach--be ready--I'll take the right."
The stairway was of more than medium width, and straight-away almost tothe lower floor, the turn being at the bottom. While the lights were on,Bernheim had noticed a heavy oak chest against the wall near where theywere standing. Now it suddenly occurred to him how it could be used.Asking the Archduke to bear aside a moment, he seized it in his powerfularms, and carrying it to the head of the stairs hurled it, with all hisstrength, down into the darkness.
There was a heavy thud as of human bodies struck, wild shrieks of painand terror, and then a deafening crash, as the chest broke asunderagainst the wall below, followed directly by moans, and curses, andstruggles to get free.
Although Armand had not seen what his Aide had done, he could picture itall now, and he laughed aloud.
"Clear away the debris, gentlemen!" he called. "On to the charge! Don'tbe a lot of quitters; we've plenty of ammunition left; en avant!"
But only the moans answered him. He drew Bernheim closer.
"What do you suggest," he asked; "shall we go down?"--And the upsettingof the chair at the rear stairs answered him.
"Turn on the lights when I whistle," he ordered, and stole swiftly to therear of the hall.
Doubtless the purpose had been to attack them simultaneously in front andrear, and here was the chance to give this detachment, also, a surprise.He heard the chair being set carefully aside, followed by foot-falls suchas are made only by shoeless feet. The darkness was impenetrable, but heknew they paused at the door, and then came slowly forward, passing himso closely he could have touched them with his hand. The next instant hegave the signal.
As the lights blazed out, disclosing three masked men with drawn swords,the Archduke leaped forward and, with the hilt of his rapier, struck theone nearest him behind the ear. The rogue dropped in his tracks. At thesame moment, Bernheim's pistol cracked, and another went down, shotthrough the head. The third stood irresolute; and him the Archdukeaddressed.
"It's the pistol, yonder, or the sword, here," he said; "which will youchoose?"
The fellow chanced to be almost in line with the front stairs, and foranswer he sprang across the hall and dashed down them. Bernheim's gunspoke thrice: the first bullet struck the wall; the second, the newelpost; the third, fired into the semi-obscurity below, and as the knave'shead was almost on a line with the floor, brought an answering cry; butit did not disable him; they heard him stumble over the broken chest,then the key was thrust into the lock, the front door was flung back, andhe crossed the porch at a run.
"He's the last of them, I fancy," said Armand.
Bernheim looked at the pistol in disgust.
"I never did have any patience with these toys," he growled; "three shotsacross a blanket, and only a touch!"
The Archduke pointed to the dead body.
"You did pretty well there," he said.
"Luck, pure luck." He went over to the stairs. "I don't hear anything,"he said; "the chest seems to be very quiet--what about the lights; shallI turn them off?"
"First take a look at these gentlemen," said Armand; "do you know them?"
The Aide stooped over the one he had killed and jerked off the mask thatcovered his upper face--then did the same with the other, and shook hishead.
"I never saw either of them," he said; "but they look the part--you hitthis one exactly on the spot; he is paralyzed or dead."
"We will leave him to find out for himself which it is," the Archdukeanswered--"unless, Colonel, you wish to search further for the lady--as Iremember, you promised her the first killing."
Bernheim laughed.
"I rather imagine your lady is a man--I think we shall find her at thefoot of the stairs."
He ra
n quickly down, vaulted over the debris with the aid of the rail,and turned on the light.
The Archduke had followed him as far as the turn.
"It looks as though you got her, Colonel," he remarked, pointing with hisrapier to two men who lay among the fragments of the chest. One wasdead--face and head mashed flat, the crimson splotch on the white wallmarking where the heavy missile had crushed them. The other, both legsbroken at the ankles, and half his ribs driven in, was pinned in thecorner, unconscious--a singularly repulsive creature, with huge,protruding teeth, pimply face, an enormous red nose, and a mouth like afish's.
Bernheim looked him over.
"Positively, I'd be ashamed to employ such carrion," he remarked. "Idon't understand Lotzen; he is an aesthete, even in his crimes."
The Archduke stepped carefully into the hall, and laid his rapier on thetable.
"Let us be off," he said; "there is nothing more to do." He turned towardthe door--then stopped and reached for the sword.
"Others are coming," he said;--"we'll fight it out right here."
There was the quick tramp of feet on the porch, and a sergeant and twopolice entered. Their looks of bewildered surprise, as they recognizedthe Archduke and his Aide, were so comical that even Bernheim smiled,though his words were curt enough.
"Salute, men!" he said, "don't you know His Royal Highness?"
The sergeant's hand went up.
"Your pardon, sir," he stammered, "but we heard shots--and this house issupposed to be unoccupied. I am sorry----"
Armand motioned him to silence.
"There is nothing to pardon, sergeant," he said; "you are doing your dutyvery properly, and you come in good time. You will search this placethoroughly, including the grounds; remove the dead and woundedimmediately; see that all knowledge of the affair is suppressed, andreport to me at noon to-morrow."
The officer saluted again. "Yes, Your Highness."
"Where are our capes, Colonel?"
"In the library--I'll get them."... He dropped the Archduke's about hisshoulders, and the sergeant did the same for him.
As they gained the Avenue, the cathedral bell struck three.
"A nice hour for an old man like you, Bernheim, to be going home," saidthe Archduke.
A quizzical smile came into the Aide's stern face.
"A lady called me," he replied.