CHAPTER EIGHT
_COUNT MICHAEL TEMESVAR_
Count Michael Temesvar, when he left behind him the great estate where heruled as absolute and tyrannical master and came to the fashionable,pleasure-loving London, was a different man.
In London he paid due regard to the conventions and was entertained atgreat houses and in return offered very splendid receptions to hishosts. Meanwhile he kept a skilled finger on the hardening arteries ofnew international affairs.
He knew very well that he was suspected of intriguing for monarchialrestoration and the confusion of the country where he was so pleasantlyentertained, by such men as the Earl of Rosecarrel. But for the mainpart England still clung to her habit of disbelieving that a man whocould be so charming in society would commit the _betise_ of plottingwhere he had played.
He was particularly interested in the Spring Automobile Show at theCrystal Palace. He had heard a great deal of late of the Lion motor andhe wanted one. On his first visit to the show he told the manager thatthe silver model there exhibited was the one that he would buy. He wasannoyed that the firm's representative would not allow it to be takenaway until the show finished.
On his second visit he was irritated to find that the manager raisedobjections about selling it at all.
"You see, sir," said the manager, "a car like this demands carefuldriving and constant attention. Our ordinary model would suit youbetter."
"I want this because it is said to be the fastest car in the world,"Count Michael returned. "To me the price is nothing."
"It isn't that at all, sir," the manager said. "In confidence itwouldn't do us any good if your own mechanics got it in such a conditionit couldn't do its best work. Bad advertisement you understand."
"You think I should have a special chauffeur then? Good. Send me one.Send three if necessary but send me a man who has the nerve to drivealong my mountain roads by day or night at any speed I choose."
"That's a tall order, sir," the manager returned.
"But I pay. I always pay better than others because I want better work."
Count Michael Temesvar beheld a blue-clad mechanic working under a car.He struck him a sharp blow on the leg with his cane. A grimy-faced manemerged rubbing the bruised limb.
"You," said the count peremptorily, "can you drive a car like thisLion?"
The man grinned. The idea seemed to tickle him. He spoke with thecockney accent of his kind.
"Me drive a Lion?" he said. "Ask Mr. King 'ere what I can do."
"I couldn't let him go," said Mr. King quickly. "He is my bestdemonstrator and a wonder at tuning up an engine."
Count Michael ignored the protesting manager.
"What is your wage?"
"I get five pound a week."
"I give you ten. You are my man. You leave for my place in Croatia whenthe show is over. My secretary will see you are looked after. Serve mewell and you will never regret it. I am generous, when I am pleased." Heturned to his companion. "See that all arrangements are made. If he hasa wife and children bring them if he desires it. If he will be happierwithout them let them remain here. I must have him. He has intelligenceand industry. Look you, he has gone back to his work. He loves hisengine as a good groom does his horse."
The mechanic had indeed crawled again under the huge car. The countcould have added that he was cautious for he drew his legs well intocover.
The count and the secretary went off. The secretary was to call at theoffice next day and arrange things. The manager was deferential, butwhen they had left the glass-roofed hall he permitted himself to laugh.Then he crossed to the car and bent down.
"It's all right, Mr. Trent," he said, "they've gone now; you can comeout."
Anthony Trent looked up at him and grinned.
"You can always get a job as an actor," he said.
"Your accent is a bit of all right," the manager returned, gratified.
"If it's etiquette for a manager to have a drink with a mere oil-stainedmechanic as I am, lead on to the nearest place."
"Well," said the manager later, "what do you think of him?"
Anthony Trent rubbed his leg.
"He struck me," said Trent in a curious, musing way. There was somethingin his tone which made the manager look at him quickly. Anthony Trent'sface was grim and set.
"I don't think he meant it that way," Mr. King replied. He had visionsof assault and battery.
"Some day I shall give him the opportunity to apologize," said theAmerican.
Mr. King had received personal instructions from the chairman of theLion Motor, Ltd., to obey Mr. Anthony Trent in every particular. Mr.Trent was to be allowed to have the run of the shops and the most expertmechanics in the firm were to put all they knew at his disposal.
Anthony Trent started by giving the manager the best dinner he had evereaten. Then he coached him in the _role_ of a manager anxious not tolose his best demonstrator. King was delighted that Count Michael walkedinto the trap set for him eagerly. He liked Trent but thought poorly ofhis chances in a tussle with this big girthed foreigner.
"Must be fifty inches round the chest," he observed, sipping his drinkdelicately, "and most of it muscle. One of the most powerful men I'veever laid eyes on, Mr. Trent. Built like a wrestler. About five feetten I judge, a couple of inches less than you but five stone heavier."
"What was the big car on the aisle opposite us at the show?" Trentasked, as King thought, irrelevantly.
"The 'Amazon,'" King answered scornfully. "All varnish and silver plateand upholstery with a motor that isn't worth a tinker's dam."
"That's like the count," Trent smiled, "champagne, high living andgeneral dissipation have made a shell of him. He looks well enough tothe eye, like that Amazon car, but call on the motor and you'll see 'emboth hang out distress signals."
"Maybe," King conceded, "I'll put my bet on the Lion," he smiled in afriendly fashion at the other, "and the Eagle."
They fell to talking technicalities and kept it up till the hour whenMichael, Count Temesvar went to dine at a house in Bruton street. He toldhis host that as a compliment to this country, his second home, he hadjust bought an English car and engaged an English chauffeur. The otherguests thought it so broad-minded of him. He further endeared himself tohis company by deploring the retirement of his old adversary, thateminent diplomat, the Earl of Rosecarrel.
His old adversary's occupation at the moment would have surprised him.The earl was devising an ingenious cipher code having, it would seem tothe uninitiated, the various parts of a Lion motor which might needreplacing by telegram to the London factory. Anthony Trent would take acopy with him, carefully concealed, and any telegram sent by him to theworks would instantly be forwarded to the code's inventor.
"What makes you so cheerful?" his daughter asked as she bade himgoodnight.
"That amazing American of yours," he answered.
"'Of mine,'" she repeated. But even in the grip of her unhappiness shewas not sure that the dim future did not hold some alleviation.
* * * * *
Few people were more careful of appearances than Anthony Trent. He wasalways dressed with quiet distinction. In the early days of a professionwhere it is not well to be too prominent, he chafed at this restraint.Later he saw that it was the sign of sartorial eminence.
On assuming the name and characteristics of Alfred Anthony he also hadto dress the part and talk the part. From the men in the Lion shop hehad, with his mimic's cleverness, taken on their peculiar intonationsand slang until he certainly could deceive a foreigner. And since he wasthorough he forced himself to smoke the part.
He accompanied his great silver car across the channel to Ostend dressedas the men in the shop dressed. And he moved with their brisk, perkyquickness and he alternated between shag in a bull-dog pipe and Woodbinecigarettes. He was glad that Mr. Hentzi, the count's secretary observedhis altercation at the Belgian port with a customs official who madehim pay duty on an excess number of cigar
ettes.
"Ah," said Mr. Hentzi with condescension, "the cigarette of the BriteeshTommee!"
At Ostend, Trent superintended the despatch of his charge by fastfreight and then took the trans-continental express to Budapest. He wasto wait for the car and drive it to its new home. During the few days hewas forced to idle in the Hungarian capital he deplored the fact thatnew status prevented him from going to the Bristol or the Grand HotelRoyal. He stayed, instead, at an hotel of the second class andencountered little friendliness. English or Americans, it seemed, werestill regarded as enemies.
He was saved from any violence by Hentzi's announcement that he must befitted for the Temesvar livery. It was no use to rebel. With incredibleswiftness the tailor turned it out. Trent looked at himself in the glasswith the utmost distaste. The color scheme was maroon and canary yellow.He likened himself to those who stood before the fashionable stores onFifth avenue and opened limousine doors.
"With that livery," Hentzi said impressively, "you will be safe; youwill be respected."
Anthony Trent was too much overwhelmed to answer him. Certainly theAnthony Trent who stared back at him from the mirror was a stranger. Hewas wearing his hair longer than usual and a small moustache was alreadysprouting. The hawklike look was not evident. He wore, instead, an airof innocence that was Chaplinesque. Hentzi took this look of scrutiny tobe one of pride.
"You must have your photograph taken and send it to your best girl," helaughed, "she will make all the other ones jealous."
"Yes," said the man who suddenly remembered he was Alfred Anthony ofVauxhall Bridge Road, "she'll be fair crazy about it. Just like me."
But he did not wear it much. He preferred the chance of a row with thepopulace to his unwished for splendor. The days of delay gave himleisure to think over coming difficulties. He conceded he had been ledaway by emotion and enthusiasm when he was betrayed into boasting of hisprowess. The two men who had failed had been good men no doubt and theywere dead.
Such a man as Temesvar must know that the brain who originated theattempt at recovery of the draft was still scheming. The count mustconstantly be on the watch. And if so, why had he engaged Alfred Anthonywith so little investigation? Like most high grade criminals, AnthonyTrent was apt to suspect simple actions when performed by men of theTemesvar type and impute to them subtle motives. He wished he had beenable to take a longer look at the count instead of his momentary talk.
He reminded Trent very much of the celebrated painting of Francis theFirst, that sensual monarch who was devoted to the chase, masquerades,jewelry and the pursuit of the fair. But Francis, for all hisaccomplishments, was weak and frivolous while Temesvar was ruthless anda power, if Lord Rosecarrel was to be believed.
Before he left London Trent had secured what road maps he could ofHungary and particularly the Adriatic coast of Dalmatia and Croatia. Athis hotel he spread them out on the table and spent hours poring overthem.
He ventured to ask Mr. Hentzi some particulars of the place, and whyCount Michael had gone to the expense of importing the chauffeur and thecar when he had many machines in his garage and so many men at hiscommand.
Hentzi told him the count needed a clear-eyed, temperate man who couldmake great speed and make it safely.
"Most of our men," Hentzi declared, "drink _shlivovitza_, a brandy madeof plums, and there are people who visit the count whose lives must notbe imperilled by recklessness."
"What about the roads?" Trent asked thinking of the weight of the Lionand its tremendous wheel-base.
"From Karlstadt to Fiume runs the Maria Louise road which is superb. Itis one over which you will pass many times. Then there is the Josephinaroad from Zengg and many fine highways built not for the Croatianpeasants but for strategic purposes. You have seen in this war which ispassed what good roads mean, eh?"
"You 'it it on the 'ed, Guv'ner," Trent said cheerfully. "What do I godown to Fiume for?"
"To meet passengers from the steamers or from the count's yacht. It isone hundred and twenty miles from Fiume to Radna Castle. What could youdo that distance in? The road down the mountain to Karlstadt is good butnarrow."
Alfred Anthony spat meditatively.
"The old girl will do it in three hours," he said, "she'll shake 'em upa bit inside but if there aren't no traffic cops or big towns I can doit in three hours or bit more."
"No. No," Hentzi cried nervously, "that is suicide. We have beensatisfied to take six hours."
"With 'orses?" Alfred Anthony demanded, "pretty good time with 'orses,but this is a Lion."
Hentzi sat on the front seat during the long drive and pointed out thepath. On the whole he was a good natured man but he did not permit thecount's chauffeur to forget that he was talking to the count'ssecretary. Hentzi had formerly been a clerk in the estate office of theTemesvar family and had been promoted to his present position because hewas faithful and a good linguist.
He was afraid of the count. Trent could detect a fear of him wheneverthe name was mentioned. When Hentzi warned the new chauffeur to becareful if his employer was in an angry mood the American demanded thereason.
"If I do my duty," said the pseudo mechanic, "he can't hurt me."
"You talk as a child talks," Hentzi laughed. "He will do as he likes andas the devils that are in him at the moment. He fears neither God, man,nor devil. Pauline only may mock when he rages."
"Who is Pauline?" Trent asked, "the missus?"
"The Countess," Hentzi said with dignity, "is in perpetual retreat withthe Ursuline sisters near Vienna."
"Is Pauline the daughter?"
"His daughters are married." Hentzi laughed, "Castle Radna is not aplace where it is wise to ask questions. You think because hisexcellency was cheerful when you last saw him he is like that always? Itell you if Pauline has been unkind he may visit it on you. I preferthat he does. I am tired of his humours and you are younger andstronger."
"You don't mean he might hit me?" Trent cried.
Hentzi seemed to find Trent's anxious manner amusing.
"Most certainly he will," the secretary assured him, "but you need notbe alarmed. He will fling you gold when his temper has spent itself."
"I'm not going to let any man strike me," Trent said doggedly. "It wouldraise the devil in me and I might be sorry for it."
"You would," Hentzi said thinking that the chauffeur meant he might losehis job.
Anthony Trent, instead, was thinking that he might, in order to succeedin his venture, have to submit to indignities that would be torture toone of his temperament. It would not be wise to let the secretary knowthis so he turned the subject to the woman who dare laugh when the countwas angry.
"Who is Pauline?" he asked.
"She was a skater from the Winter Palace in Berlin. She is beautiful orshe would not be at Castle Radna; she is clever or she could not controlCount Michael who has broken many women's hearts. She is bad or she wouldnot have driven the countess from her home. For myself I hate her andthe men and women with whom she fills the place."
"So they keep a lot of company up there?"
"Company!" Hentzi replied, "there is no such castle in Europe. I haveseen life in Buda and Vienna but up there! You may be sure when themaster drinks champagne the servants will drink _shlivovitza_. But donot think they are all Pauline's friends. No. No. The great of the worldcome there too and Pauline's friends are banished. You will drive greatpersonages up from Fiume and you will not know who they are or whattheir errand."
"Is the count a politician?"
Hentzi laughed with good natured contempt at such a naive query. Not toknow Michael, Count Temesvar's reputation in the field of world politicswas to admit ignorance of all the troubled currents which worried kingsand presidents.
He was rudely brought back from his lofty attitude by the suddenstopping of the car. He was almost thrown from his seat.
"Look!" Trent cried, pointing to a piece of close cropped turf, "a golfgreen as I live."
"What of it?" Hentzi snapped, "what do
you know of golf?"
"I used to be a caddie," Trent lied glibly. "Who plays there?"
"The count because his doctor tells him to. I because I hate it, andPauline that her figure may remain seductive. Thank God there are butnine holes! It encourages our master to have one man who always playsworse than he. Look, that is the castle."
Almost under the shadows of Mount Sljeme the rugged building lay. Aroundit, nestling at its gates were many other lesser stone buildings whichHentzi told him were stables, dwellings and out-houses. It was situatedin the _Zagorje_ or land beyond the hills and had, despite its finegardens and the green turf of the links a forbidding air.
When the Lion was run into its garage Hentzi introduced the newchauffeur to the man with whom he was to live, a man who with his wifehad one of the cottages outside the castle wall. Peter Sissek, the man,was unfriendly from the start. He resented the importation of achauffeur with the new car as a slight to his own skill. But as he spokeonly Croatian and Hungarian, and Trent understood neither tongue, hisgrievances were not voluble.