CHAPTER THIRTEEN
_DOWN TO THE SEA_
When Pauline had gone Trent was immeasurably happier in the hope she hadgiven him. Until her visit his only chance of escape had been centeredin the expectation that when once his hands were freed he might file thebars. There was now a scheme in his head worth many of that.
Half an hour after she had left two men entered guided by the nowassured Hentzi.
"You have complained of the dirt here," the secretary explained, "and itwill be removed."
The tiny spring saw was swept up unobserved. Trent saw it disappear nowwith a smile where before it would have been black tragedy to him.
He slept well that night and shaved himself next morning in highspirits. It was not easy, shaving with handcuffs on, but it waspossible. Then he waited for some message from Pauline.
Hentzi came into the cell at five.
"Count Michael will see you at ten tonight. My friend, I warn you to bewise and acknowledge defeat."
"That's not my idea of wisdom," Trent grinned so cheerfully that Hentziwas vaguely disturbed.
"You are more foolish even than the others," Hentzi said, shaking hishead. "Brave men, all three. For my part I would be reasonable. I wouldsay, 'I have fought a good fight and the odds were against me. How muchcan I save from the wreck?' That is the way to talk, my lord."
Suddenly he took a book from his pocket, a book tied with string andsealed but not enveloped in paper. He handed it to the American.
"This is from a friend," he announced. "I bring danger on myself ingiving it to you but I can rely on your silence, eh?"
"Certainly," Trent said carelessly and betrayed no interest in the gift."At ten o'clock tonight? Is that it?"
"It is wise to acknowledge defeat," Hentzi said earnestly.
"We'll see when the time comes," Trent returned. "It's largely a matterof holding trumps my good Hentzi."
* * * * *
Anthony Trent tore the string from the book eagerly. In the middle,placed carefully in a space hollowed among the leaves were the bar keyswhich might, with luck, open the doors to safety. About them was wrappeda half sheet of scented, green note paper. On it was scrawled veryfaintly in pencil, "I have put it where you told me to."
"Thank God!" cried Anthony Trent.
Then with some difficulty he managed to put the two thin steel bars in aspecial pocket long ago prepared for them.
The hours seemed very long until Hentzi, with Sissek and Ferencz, camefor him. The two servants carried their big service revolvers.
The anxious moment was at hand, the moment that was to tell Trentwhether he was to be utterly defeated or to stand a chance of escape.
"Take these off," he said holding out his manacled hands.
"No. No." Sissek and Ferencz cried together.
"The count said so," Trent frowned.
"I have had no orders," Hentzi assured him, "and that is one key I havenot got."
For one desperate moment Anthony Trent thought of bringing down his ironringed wrists on Sissek's head and attempting to escape. But he put thethought from him as futile. There was still another trump to play.
They led him, as he hoped, to the great room where the safe was, theroom he had searched so carefully.
In a carved oak chair at the head of a table sat Count Michael. Paulinewas there sitting in a chaise longue smoking a cigarette in a very longamber and gold holder. She did not turn her face from the count to theprisoner until he had stood there silent for a full minute. Then shelooked at him coldly, sneeringly, and said something to Count Michaelwhich brought a peal of laughter from him.
It seemed to Trent that he had never seen the two on such whollyaffectionate terms.
There were two doors to the room. At one stood Peter Sissek, revolverin hand. At the other old Ferencz watched in armed vigilance. On thetable before the count was a .38 automatic pistol. Shades were drawnover the long narrow French windows. In a chair before one of themHentzi sat nervous as ever in the presence of his violent employer.Before the other window was a big bronze statue of the dying Gaul. Thestage was set very comfortably for all but the manacled Anthony Trent.
"You said I could have these off," Trent began, "these damned steelbangles that I've worn so long."
"It is for yourself to remove them," the count said suavely. "I am aboutto give you the opportunity. You see I am generous. Others would blameme for it."
"You are not generous," Trent snapped. "A coward never is."
The count's face lost some of its suavity.
"Who dares call me a coward?" he cried.
"I do," Trent returned promptly. "You are a coward. Here am I, anunarmed man among three with guns. The doors are locked and yet you keepme here handcuffed. Generous! Brave!" All his contempt was poured out ashe said it.
"If I take them off will you give me your _parole d'honneur_ to make noeffort to escape?"
Anthony Trent turned to Pauline.
"Madame," he said, as though to a stranger, "I cannot congratulate youon the courage of your friend. So afraid is he of one single man that hewishes me to give my word I will not try to escape. He forgets I amunarmed, in a strange and vast house filled with his servants, withdeath threatening me at any suspicious move. Are all your noblemen ofCroatia as cautious as he?"
Pauline did not reply to him. Instead she spoke to the count in German.
"Pay no attention to him," she counselled. "I know that you are brave,my Michael. Let him laugh at you for a coward if he wishes. I would nothave him hurt you or frighten you for the world."
"Frighten _me_!" cried the count, "Hurt _me_!" He flung a little keyacross the table to Hentzi. "Take them off," he commanded.
Trent examined his reddened wrists with a frown.
"This should never have been done," he declared. Then he turned toHentzi. "I need a cigarette."
"I did not bring you here to smoke," Count Michael said acidly. "Ibrought you here to interrogate you. Remember that."
"I have been without a decent smoke for nearly two weeks," Trentreturned. "And I want one. Unless I have some I shall not answer any oneof your interrogations. Think it over, count."
Hentzi looked at the American reproachfully. He had supplied hisprisoner with the best of tobacco. That he had done so surreptitiouslyrobbed him of the privilege of recrimination. The two guards notunderstanding a word of the conversation could not deny Trent'sstatements.
Count Michael Temesvar looked closely at his former chauffeur. He wasstanding on the rich red rug between the two windows. He was biting hislips; his face twitched and his fingers worked nervously. It was plainthat he suffered as drug takers do when deprived of their poisons.
There was a cedar lined silver box of cigarettes on the little table byPauline's chair. This Hentzi was commanded to place before the prisoner.Anthony Trent's symptoms were admirably assumed. He inhaled and exhaledin silent delight and his face grew more peaceful. But he was stillunsettled and nervous. The count, remembering his iron-nerved driver,attributed the change as much to imprisonment and fear as to lack oftobacco. In a sense it was a tribute to his power over the man who hadthwarted him. He watched Trent stride up and down by the two windows andascribed it to a growing sense of the ordeal about to be undergone.
"I've got to keep moving," Trent said, "I've been tied up in a kennelfor two weeks."
"If you must I shall permit it," the other answered. "But I warn youthat the length of this table must be your limit. Otherwise my faithfulmen may have to shoot. You understand?"
"Perfectly," Trent said growing more affable. "I even give you my_parole d'honneur_ not to go near the doors. Why rush on certain death?"
"You are growing sensible," Count Michael said smiling. "I knew it wouldcome. As you say, why rush on certain death? It is foolish. More, it isunnecessary and to do so wastes one's energy. I have not yet had time tolearn your name and rank but I am treating with you as an equal."
"Thank you!" Trent retorted.
"If you call locking me up in a verminous,rat-haunted cell treating me as an equal I'm hardly grateful."
"I dare take no risks," the count assured him. "You men who came herefor my lord Rosecarrel are different from others. I have not forgottenthat Sir Piers Edgcomb killed three of my honest lads before he died.There are others who would have treated you less well than I. Now, whereis the paper you stole from me and say you burned?"
"What is the fate of ashes tossed to the four winds?"
"It was never burned," the other snapped. "Somewhere it exists in yourpocket where I saw you place it. Remember this before you answer. If byyour aid alone I find it you may leave this castle."
"How?" Trent demanded. "To walk into ambush outside?"
"There will be twenty square miles of country where none dare touch you.Do you need more than that, you, who cast aspersions on the courage ofothers? Is it possible you are afraid?"
"What is the other alternative?"
"To join your friends." The count laughed cordially. The idea seemed toamuse him. "To make the third grave. First the trainer, then the butlerand last the chauffeur. I wonder what your chief will send me next."
"He will have no need to send anyone else," Trent said affably. By thistime his nervousness had disappeared and he was cool and calm as ever.
"You mean he will give up the attempt?"
"Why should there be another when I have already succeeded?"
"This is bravado," the count cried. It was his turn to be nervous now.The importance he attached to the possession of the paper seemed out ofall proportion to its value. Trent knew little of the great eternalEuropean game of politics. For a few moments in Paris the New World hadits glance at the complicated working but forgot it when booming tradeheld sway and salesmen took the place of diplomats. The elimination ofthe new Foreign Secretary meant a great deal to Count Michael. The otherknowledge which Trent stored in his mind was equally dangerous but therewere others who could attend to that. No matter what part Anthony Trentplayed the count had assigned him the role of the defeated.
"It happens to be the truth," Trent returned.
He could see that Pauline was now listening intently. Her pose ofantagonism to the stranger was swept away by her anxiety for his safety.Her heart thrilled to see him standing there, debonair, smiling,dominating. It seemed madness to her, this avowal of success.
"You are learning wisdom," Count Michael commented.
"We may define the term differently," Trent smiled. "I did not burn thepaper."
"Ah!" the count breathed excitedly. "Now we have it."
"I preferred to keep it so that I could assure the Right Honourable theEarl of Rosecarrel, Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, that I hadindeed succeeded. You will understand my feelings. Perhaps it wasbravado but none seems to believe that such papers ever do get burned.You, count, seemed to doubt it."
"Where is it?" the count snapped. "Your life depends on your truth."
"I have put it in a safe place," Trent said, resuming his pacing of theroom.
The count's excitement banished the air of toleration he had withdifficulty affected toward one he hated.
"Where is it?" he bellowed.
Anthony Trent was smiling and his eyes were bright. It was one of hismoments.
"I am going to fetch it," he said urbanely.
Long ago he had made a careful survey of the possibilities of the roomin which he stood. He had thoroughly scrutinized windows and doors aslikely aids to future needs.
Every pair of eyes in that great room was turned on him. Sissek andFerencz understanding no word only saw that he was unmoved, unruffled,almost joyous in the presence of the great Count Michael. They could notunderstand it at all. They only hated him the more.
Hentzi was rather thrilled with the spectacle. Here was a young andhandsome man of a type he had longed to be, no doubt the bearer of anhistoric title, who in the presence of great peril dared to laugh atthe head of all the Temesvars.
Count Michael felt the constricting collar that now almost choked him.These other two who had preceded Alfred Anthony met death bravely butthey acknowledged failure. But this man was different. It was almost asthough he thought himself the victor. What else would have nerved him tobandy words with his gaoler?
But of them all it was Pauline who watched him most eagerly, and mostfeared for his safety. He seemed incredibly rash to antagonize the countstill further. Few guessed the cruelties to which he could sink when his_amour propre_ was wounded. She had made up her mind that the man sheloved so wholly should not suffer. So far the count had no reason tosuspect her interest in the stranger. His first jealousy had passed whenshe protested how needless it was. He trusted women with few of hispolitical secrets but she knew Trent was a marked man because he hadstumbled on the identity of the princely guest. Therefore he wouldsuffer unless her woman's wit could aid him. Knowing the count's vanityso well she perceived that every moment of this unperturbed attitudeadded to the severity of the punishment his prisoner would receive.
"You are going to fetch it!" Count Michael said thickly. "Is it permittedto ask how and when?"
"By all means," Trent said graciously. "I am going to fetch it now andthus."
He made a lightning quick leap toward the window where Hentzi wassitting in a low chair and then a dive over the secretary's shoulder.Through the small panes of glass he went like a hurled rock. The shadetorn from its roller wrapped itself about his head and shielded him fromflying glass and piercing splinters.
Two shots rang out and he heard Hentzi's voice raised in a shriek ofagony. There were other sounds which drowned even this. The count'svoice bellowed forth instructions. He could hear Peter Sissek andFerencz shouting and then, as another shot followed him into thecourtyard Pauline's cry rang high above all other sounds.
Trent landed on his shoulder, bruised but not seriously hurt. When hepulled the enveloping window shade from his face he was amazed to seethat the room from which he had come was now in darkness. He could hearthe men thrashing about it in a fury of rage at being unable to find theway of pursuit. Whether failure of the current was the cause or someonehad pressed the button, the delay was of incalculable value.
Trent raced across the paved courtyard and pried open the door of whathad been the prince's apartment. It was unoccupied as was that of theadjoining room where the military aide had slept.
At the bedroom door leading to the corridor he listened carefully butheard no sound. He opened it quietly to come upon a servant passing by.It was an unmannerly fellow who had often jeered at him when they usedthe common table, a tall, awkward, stooping creature with a maliciousface. His eyes opened wide when he saw it was the detested Englishchauffeur. Visions of reward darted across his brain and he made amovement as to apprehend the foreigner.
He was instantly gripped with a hold, which agonized him as he sought tobreak it, and forced into the bedroom from which Trent had just come.Then the door was locked and he was a prisoner. When, a minute later hismaster and the others came bursting through he supposed them to be otherthan they were and hid under a bed where the redoubtable Sissek pursuedhim and beat him soundly until his identity was established.
Leaving him in the room Trent made his way carefully to the _armoire_,that rock of refuge in a weary land, and entered it noiselessly.
It was established that no stranger could have left the castle by any ofits exits. Such as were not barred had servants near them. It was clearthat Alfred Anthony was concealed somewhere in the vast building. Hiscapture was only the matter of time, the result of careful searching.
This search was gone about systematically Count Michael directing his menpersonally. It was the count's theory that one of his bullets, the firstshot at which Hentzi had screamed because of its nearness to his head,had wounded the fleeing man, and that he would sooner or later be tracedby a trail of blood.
Hardly had plans been made for the disposition of the searchers than anagitated footman reported Peter Sissek's wife with dir
e news. She wasbrought before her employer trembling with excitement.
"Excellency," she cried, "He has escaped in the English car."
Pauline at the count's side clutched his arm.
"Thank God!" she breathed.
"They shall suffer who let him pass," the count roared, "Swine, childrenof swine, spawn of the devil."
"Let me go after him Excellency," Peter Sissek pleaded. "I will bringhim back to you dead or alive as you command."
"Fool," the count shouted, "Who are you to do this, you who have not hisskill nor so fast a car! Get you to Agram. I will telegraph to Fiume andZara and Trieste and have him stopped for a thief."
"But," Pauline protested, "how dare you let it be known that it is thepaper he has stolen? Dare you invite notice of it?"
The count looked at her very oddly. Never had he looked so coldly.
"Is it also his car?" he asked. "Have I no right to that?"
* * * * *
Weeks before Anthony Trent had hidden a spare key to the garage in asecret place. From the moment of closing the door of the _armoire_behind him, climbing down the copper pipe and starting his engine,Anthony Trent had not consumed more than four minutes. As he drove itout of the yard he saw Mrs. Sissek running toward him. Soon they wouldbe on his track again. He did not care. He knew there was never a driverin all Europe who could hope to catch him between Castle Radna andFiume.
A quick glance had assured him all was well with his Lion. Two extrawheels were carried which could be put on in three minutes. There wasgasoline in his tanks and the purring hum of the motor was like aBeethoven symphony to his ears. And he knew that somewhere in thetoolbox was concealed the little scrap of paper which had cost two livesalready and might take his own as toll were he not careful. He prayedthat the gods of chance might give him no less than an even break.
Down the mountain side he went singing. At night there was little or notraffic. The peasants were early abed and the way would be deserteduntil he struck the Marie Louise road.
Anthony Trent knew that not a car in the garage would pursue him withany chance of success. They would probably send a telegram from Agrambut that contingency did not worry him very much. It had taken no morethan a minute of his time to do damage that would take a hundred timesas long to remedy. He smiled to think of the savage Sissek trying tostart his Panhard. Then they would attempt to get the Fiat going andfinally, the old and tricky Mercedes. And they would all balk becausethat skilled mechanic Alfred Anthony had had his finger in the pie.
At the roar of his engines, magnified in the night silences, peasantsturned over and went to sleep again. It was their lord or one of hisexalted guests who passed. Sometimes one of them would hear, floatingout for a moment, the sound of his singing.
It was a night of triumph and hope for Anthony Trent. He had succeededwhere others had failed. The hours brought him nearer to a sight of thewoman he loved and he could not put away from him the hope thatsomewhere happiness and content might wait for them.
There was not an untoward incident in his journey until he reached thehigh land overlooking the harbor of Fiume. Day would break in less thanan hour. Stopping his motor he took the rain stained document from itsshelter. Pauline had not failed him. She showed her thoughtfulness byplacing sandwiches and a flask of wine in the tool box. He thought ofher with a flood of gratitude. Until this reminder he had forgotten hervery existence in the thought of the other woman.
Trent had not come idly to Fiume with the bare hope of being able tomake his escape. He knew that there were in port several Britishdestroyers that lay off a certain breakwater which he had observed onmany occasions. Tied up at this stone pier were a number of rowboats. Itwould be an easy task to pull off to a destroyer and climb aboard. Nocommander would deny him the privilege he sought and there was not a gunin Fiume which dare be trained on a British or American vessel.
It was Anthony Trent's way to look for opposition in his ventures and bea little uneasy if he met none. So far things had gone almost toosmoothly.
He had threaded his way through the narrow streets of Fiume withoutother than a few laborers when he was suddenly halted by a policeman.The policeman stood before the Lion and waved his sword. It was plain helabored under stress of great excitement. Three others of his kind camerunning from a side alley. It seemed to the policeman that the greatautomobile made a vicious jump at him. He leapt aside with marvelousagility as the accelerated Lion passed him on its way to the pier.
There was just sufficient light for Trent to see the destroyer lying ather anchorage. Everything would have been comfortably done but for thecries of the pursuing police.
A groom of Count Michael's had ridden a fast horse into Agram and theFiume authorities were bidden apprehend a thieving chauffeur driving ablue and silver Lion. There was so liberal a reward that the policeforce was almost disorganized in contemplating it. Pursuers amongcivilian laborers and sailors joined in the chase.
Trent's heart sank to see the little cove where the boats were tied wasnot empty at this early hour as he expected. There was a group of sevenor eight fishermen getting their nets ready. Their quick ears caughtsounds of the disturbance and saw that the man in the motor was to becaught. They seized a two inch hawser and stood across the pier barringthe motor's way. Four men holding to one end and three, to another.
Trent took the situation in at a glance. Stupidly enough the fishermensupposed themselves to be able to stop the car of their own strength.Had they fastened the hawser around the cleats at their side AnthonyTrent would have gone down to defeat. It was plain that he could notcarry out his plan of rowing to the destroyer with these men at hisheels.
There was one last desperate thing to do.
The great car responded to the accelerator and by the time it hadreached the men holding the rope it was going at fifty miles an hourover the smooth stone breakwater. Two of the men were jerked clear intothe water. They were all thrown down and one had an arm broken.Fascinated they watched the great car racing down the pier straight todestruction as they supposed. Then they looked, horrified, as it seemedto hurl itself from the jetty, hurtle through the air and disappear in atomb of foam.
When police and fishermen strained their eyes and could see no trace ofthe chauffeur they naturally assumed he had been caught in the car.
"He has killed himself!" the sergeant cried.
"He was mad!" said another.
Anthony Trent had no difficulty in freeing himself from the sinkingLion. It was his wish to swim under water as far as possible and soelude those who watched for him in the faint light.
There was a strong current running and the destroyer lay a couple ofcable lengths distant. It was a hard swim, clothes encumbered as he was,and he dare not discard the garment that held the paper. There was adespairing moment when he thought he could never make headway againstthe tide which would take him back into the harbor.
It was an astonished marine who saw the dripping exhausted man clamberaboard and fall to the deck.
"I must see your commander at once," Trent cried, when his breathing waseasier.
Lieutenant Maitland awaked from his sleep was not inclined to see him.
"What's he like and the devil is it all about?" he demanded crossly.
"He's about knocked out," the marine answered, "and he says he won'ttell his business to anyone but you."
Lieutenant Maitland put on a bath robe and interviewed the stranger. Hewas instantly taken by the man's face and manner. He saw, too that hewas dealing with one of his own class.
"I have important despatches for Lord Rosecarrel the Foreign Secretarywhich I must get to him at once."
"Yes?" Maitland said interrogatively.
"I want you to take them and me," Anthony Trent said.
"I'm afraid that's impossible," said the officer. "You see that is alittle out of my beat. Even if your papers were for the First Lord ofthe Admiralty I could not proceed to a home port without instructions.I am bound
for Malta and weigh anchor in a little while."
Anthony Trent was silent for a moment. He knew that private mattersconcerning Lord Rosecarrel and his son had nothing to do with thegovernment directly. He knew, too, that to commandeer a destroyer for aprivate errand was inadmissable. But he was determined to get back andhad no appetite for Fiume. There was a trump card which he had yet toplay.
"Why does a squadron of destroyers stay so long in Fiume?" he asked.
"Admiralty orders," Lieutenant Maitland said briefly.
"They are here because trouble may break out at any moment. Theinformation I carry is necessary for the interests of your country andmy own. I'm an American as I supposed you guessed. You will be thankedby the prime minister for taking me and my information back."
"Why not cable it?" Maitland suggested, "I'll wireless it for you incode."
"I dare not trust it," Trent said emphatically, "and they wouldn'tbelieve it anyhow. Mine is a preposterous story but it's one that yourgovernment needs to know. Can't Malta get on without you a little? Itwon't take long. You fellows travel at forty miles an hour."
"Who is to judge of the importance of the information?" Maitlanddemanded, "I have to think of that. If you are spoofing me I run thecertainty of court martial. Really I think I must beg you to bedecently careful in asking this of me."
"That's only fair," Trent agreed. "Does the name of William, Prince ofMisselbach, mean anything to you?"
"Only that I went to his funeral when he escaped from that island prisonof his and was drowned. I was on the port guard ship at the time. Iunderstand the allied powers breathed a sigh of relief that he hadchosen to drown himself."
Anthony Trent pointed to a group of boats at the end of the pier fromwhich he had taken his leap. They were growing distinct in the light.
"Those fellows," said Anthony Trent, accepting one of the officer'scigarettes, "are grappling for my body. They believe I'm dead. Drownedas deep as ever Prince William of Misselbach ever was. You have just asmuch right to think the prince dead. I've seen him. I know where he'sbeen staying since his escape and I know who is behind the plot to puthim on the throne of Hungary. Now, Lieutenant, do we steam back toEngland or shall I cable it?"
"I'll take a chance and slip back to Portsmouth. What you need is a hotbath and some hotter coffee. By the time you've fed and got into some ofmy togs we shall be on our way back to fame or court martial."
The lieutenant grinned cheerfully. He was still a boy for all the sternyears he had witnessed disaster by sea and land. Also he liked Trent.It was rather a lark, he thought.
"By the way," said Trent suddenly, "if they wig-wagged you from shorethat you were harbouring a man supposed to have stolen a Lion automobilefrom Count Michael Temesvar the man who is at the bottom of the plotwould you feel bound to deliver him up to justice? I ask because I thinksome sort of police are on the way here now."
"My dear man," said Lieutenant Maitland, "you have the good fortune tobe aboard the fastest destroyer on God's wide waters. Also steam is upand we shall have started before the harbour authorities can get aboard.If they can overhaul my old dear you may ask me that question again."
* * * * *
When it was certain that Trent had made good his escape the black ragethat took hold of Count Michael plunged his household into a distressthat showed itself on every troubled face except that of Pauline.
She was not easily able to conceal her joy in Anthony Trent's goodfortune. The prophecy of the gipsy that he would escape was fulfilled.
She knew that rage must be eating at the count's heart, a rage comparedwith which all his other frenzied outbursts were as nothing. As a rulehe made Pauline his _confidante_, desiring only that she approve of hisbehaviour. Twice she had tried to get Hentzi aside and learn what news,if any, had come of the masquerader. Hentzi sullenly turned away fromher. She supposed he had been so upset over his master's temper that hewas nursing a grievance himself.
She was in her room that night, about to take a gorgeous necklace fromher firm white throat, when there was a knock upon the door.
"It is Mr. Hentzi," said her maid.
"Tell him I will not see him," Pauline yawned.
"He has an important message from Count Michael," said the girl.
"Which will wait until tomorrow," Pauline said lazily.
Hentzi's voice made itself heard through the partly opened door.
"I must beg you madame, to come at once. It is imperative. The countmust have your advice on matters of importance."
Pauline decided to go. After the silence of the day the count would tellher everything, and she was anxious to be reassured of Anthony Trent'ssafety.
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded as Hentzi guided her past thebig room where Trent had been arraigned, the room from which he had madehis escape.
"His Excellency cannot remain in a room with an entire window torn out.It would but be to invite a flock of bats to enter."
Pauline climbed two little flights of steps which led to the topmostfloor of the castle.
"I have never been here before," she commented.
"Few strangers have," he said, locking it behind her.
"Strangers!" she repeated, "since when have I been a stranger?"
She found nothing strange in his silence. Hentzi was constantly a preyto the fear he might by some over zealous action provoke the wrath ofthe man he served. Probably he had not heard her question.
She found Count Michael in a big bare room, octagonal in shape and knewit must be the tower which stood out boldly on the western corner of thecastle.
"Why bring me here?" she said petulantly.
She had no fear of the man who ruled his people as an autocrat. It isnot in the nature of such women as Pauline to eliminate a certainfeeling of contempt for the power of men whom they can sway by whim andartifice. Michael, Count Temesvar, was terrible to such as he hated, anda political force of sinister strength, but to the green eyed woman wholooked at him mockingly he was one of the weak and pliable pawns onlife's board.
"Sit down," he said suavely. There was no sudden look of affection as hegazed at her. He spoke, she reflected, very much as he had done toAnthony Trent. But the ex-chauffeur had been a prisoner. She lookedabout her and saw that this was almost a prison.
"About this Alfred Anthony," he began. "I am told, although I do notbelieve it, that you were much concerned for his safety."
"Who told you that?" she demanded.
"What matters that? It is untrue?"
"Naturally," she answered, trying to fathom what lay behind his smilingface.
"Tell me this Pauline," he said leaning forward, "when the Sissek womaninformed us that he had escaped I thought I heard you say 'Thank God.'Why did you thank God when my enemy escaped?"
Pauline was not so easily to be trapped. She remembered breathing herprayer almost at his ear but she hoped in the excitement he had notheard.
"You are dreaming Michael," she exclaimed. "Why should I say that?"
"Another thing," the count went on. "This man would hardly have escapedif the electric lights had not gone out." Abruptly the count turned toHentzi. "Tell me, did you see the engineer about this?"
"Yes, Excellency," Hentzi assured him, "He tells me in technical termswhich I do not comprehend that sometimes the light goes off for a fewmoments. It was the thunder storm or some atmospherical condition. I donot remember."
"Heaven seems to fight for him," Count Michael commented. "First thelights extinguished and then someone in this house of mine who gives himkeys and aids his escape. The garage door opens itself to him and lo, hedisappears."
"He has an accomplice you think, Excellency?" Hentzi stammered. He wasfearful that his master had learned of his carrying the book to theprisoner. Out of this slender fact the wrathful count might be weavingplot enough to engulf his faithful secretary. "I assure yourExcellency," Hentzi cried, "that I am entirely loyal."
Pauline was still not to be fright
ened by this changed mood of the countand the agitation expressed on his secretary's face. She had been victorover him in a hundred violent scenes and Pauline loved violence and theraising of voices.
"A curious thing," said the count meditatively, "is that the lights wentout only in my room. A well trained thunder storm Hentzi, eh?"
"Your excellence means that someone turned them off. I was on guard atthe window as you remember."
"I know that you were. Ferencz was at the north door, Peter at theother. The thief could not be suspected and I was a dozen feet distantsitting in my chair. And yet, Hentzi, when I pressed the button lightagain flooded the room."
"I suppose you are hinting that I did it?" Pauline said calmly.
When the count smiled, it was another man looking at her, a man to whomshe was a stranger. For the first time a thrill of uneasiness took holdof her.
"Is hinting the right word?" Count Michael retorted.
"I might have done it," Pauline admitted, "I remember when I heard thecrash of the broken glass jumping up. I probably put my hand out tosteady myself and touched the knob without noticing it. Howunfortunate!"
"Again," said the count, "I must question your right use of words. Yousaid 'unfortunate,' did you not?"
"There is one other thing which has puzzled me," Count Michael went on."Peter Sissek's wife thinks she saw you come back to the garage twomornings back soon after sunrise. She was wrong?"
"She was right," Pauline replied, "I could not sleep so I went out totry and find the missing coat."
"What loyal helpers surround me," the count murmured. "Before you retireto your well earned night's rest one other question."
"As many as you please," said Pauline, some of her burden of anxietylifted. "What is it?"
"This thief knew of the presence here of certain exalted personages. Hehad never been anywhere but in the kitchen quarters and his own room. Noservant of mine would have told him anything. There were many hours whenI was busy and you played golf that you could have told him. I want yourword that the information did not come from you."
"You have it," she said lightly. "Now as that is all I shall go to myroom. This hideous place chills me."
"Pauline," Count Michael said sternly, "I have given you every chance totell the truth. You have lied. It is in your nature to lie but I thoughtthat one of your training would know when the time came to speak thetruth. Such an hour is at hand. The man was your lover. You helped himto escape. That I am certain of. You have betrayed me and my cause--andyour cause too--because you are a light of love, a thing who will accepta purchase price and then play false."
"My poor Michael," she said commiseratingly, "you drink too much of yourown plum brandy. Tonight you are crazy. Tomorrow I shall have youbegging for a smile from me. As it is I find you tedious. Hentzi, openthe door."
The secretary made no move to obey her.
She shrugged her shoulders. Neither of the men judged from her mannerthe fear that began to enwrap her.
"Yours will be a cold smile tomorrow," Count Michael said, "and I, forone, shall not envy it. You have betrayed me but in the end I havetriumphed. They have caught him Pauline. They are bringing him back toyou. Do you think you will be there to aid him when he is my prisoneragain?"
If Count Michael wished for tribute to his victory it was his now.
The confidence left her face. She was white and smileless. The courageand bold carriage of her splendid body seemed taken from her. She leanedheavily on the bare table. Hentzi, a prey always to emotion, could havewept for her forgetting she was his master's enemy.
To Count Michael her attitude had the effect of whipping into white heathis repressed and savage rage. He had tried to believe that he stillstood first in her affection. It was the vanity of the successful manwhose desire has outlived his fascination.
No woman could be stricken to the earth by news of the capture of a manunless he were unutterably dear to her. It was clear confession of thevictory of Lord Rosecarrel's agent. What desire for mercy had been inthe count's heart died down. There came in its place the craving forinstant and brutal revenge.
"So you did help him?" he said in a low harsh voice.
"Yes," she answered. "I thought I had helped him to succeed."
"And you admit you told him of the presence here of the prince?"
"If you like," she said wearily, "If I denied it you would not believeme."
"Take note of that, Hentzi," the count commanded him. "It is important,this admission of guilt."
Pauline hardly heard him. The shock of learning that the man she adoredhad been recaptured overwhelmed her. She tried to shut out the thoughtof what punishment would be meted to him now.
"I will talk more tomorrow," she said brokenly.
"Do you not understand that for you there will be no tomorrow?" Shecould see now that the count hated her. Jealousy had swept from him allmemory of past affection. He could only think of himself as one betrayedby the man he hated. In vain she might look for mercy here.
"I am to be murdered?" she said looking from one to the other of thetwo.
"You are to be executed," he said. "You took your oath to support thismovement and you have betrayed it. I have given you your chance toconfess and instead you perjured yourself." He raised a service revolverfrom his table.
It was Hentzi who in this last black scene rose above his fears to pleadfor her. The count waved his protests aside. The woman did not move.
"Madame," Hentzi cried almost hysterically. "You must not believe whathis excellency tells you."
"Silence," the count cried angrily.
But Hentzi would not be stayed. At heart he was generous and in a dumb,hopeless fashion he had long cherished an affection for Pauline.
"He escaped," Hentzi continued, "We have just learned that they did notcapture him. Already he is on a fast war ship of his country far fromfear of pursuit."
It was as though a miracle had happened.
The color came again into Pauline's cheeks and the drooping, brokenfigure grew tall, erect and commanding.
"So you lied to me, Michael," she said slowly. "You were ashamed to admitthat he had beaten you. But I should not have lost my faith in him soeasily." She turned to Hentzi. "Thank you my friend. You have made mehappy."
"Silence," the count cried. "Prepare yourself."
"You cannot hurt me now, Michael," she laughed. Hentzi thought she lookedlike a young girl, splendid and triumphant with the wine of youth. "Atmost you can take my life. As I can never have him whom I love I do notmind. Perhaps I am a little grateful to you. Why does your hand tremble,Michael?"
She held herself at this last moment with a brave insolence. Her headwas carried high and the count knew she was laughing at him for havingfailed. He knew that her words were not idly spoken when she said shewould die happy because her lover had escaped.
She stood there flouting him, jeering at him, this woman through whoseactions his own safety was imperilled, the woman whose fascination hadso long enthralled him. And he realized that although it would be hishands which would strike her to the dust yet she would be the victor.
Untrembling she looked into the black mouth of the revolver.
"Why do your hands shake?" she repeated. "Are you afraid he will comeback and rescue me?"
Hentzi covered his eyes as the spurt of flame jumped at her. It was hisshriek which rang out. Pauline met her death, triumphant, smiling,unafraid.