A Dash for a Throne
by Arthur W. Marchmont · English · Gutenberg #40907 · 536,893 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: A Dash for a Throne
Author: Arthur W. Marchmont
Illustrator: D. Murray Smith
Release date: October 1, 2012 [eBook #40907]
Most recently updated: October 23, 2024
Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A DASH FOR A THRONE ***
A Dash For a Throne
By Arthur W. Marchmont
Author of "By Right of Sword," etc.
Illustrated by
D. Murray Smith
NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY, NEW YORK
HUTCHINSON & CO., LONDON
1899
COPYRIGHT, 1899, BY
NEW AMSTERDAM BOOK COMPANY
[Illustration: HE RAISED HIS RIGHT HAND ON HIGH]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. My Death 9
II. A Gate of Life 20
III. "As Your Highness Will" 33
IV. "You are Head of the House Now" 46
V. The Scent of Treachery 57
VI. "My Cousin" 69
VII. At Munich 81
VIII. Praga's Story 94
IX. My Plan of Campaign 105
X. A Council of Conspiracy 115
XI. "Even One Subject May Make a Kingdom" 127
XII. My Scheme Develops 139
XIII. A Check 152
XIV. The Abduction 164
XV. A Treacherous Attack 175
XVI. The Ball at the Palace 187
XVII. Checkmate 198
XVIII. After the Abduction 207
XIX. The Maid's Story 219
XX. Covering My Defeat 229
XXI. News of Minna 239
XXII. At Landsberg 249
XXIII. The Pursuit 260
XXIV. The Meeting 272
XXV. "I am Not the Prince" 283
XXVI. Flight 296
XXVII. An Old Enemy 309
XXVIII. The Emperor 323
XXIX. Count von Rudloff 336
XXX. The End 343
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
He flung his wine right at my face 11
She turned and bowed to me with a smile 50
Grasping my stick with both hands, I clenched
my teeth, and rushed upon the villains from behind 91
He raised his right hand on high 124
I leaned out as far as I dared, and, taking careful
aim, fired 184
Instead of Minna, the face of Clara Weylin met mine 206
"I was thinking--cousin" 288
The horse had fallen on him and rolled over him 293
A DASH FOR A THRONE
CHAPTER I
MY DEATH
"To a man who has been dead nearly five years everything would be
forgiven, probably--except his resurrection."
This half-cynical thought was suggested by the extraordinary change
which a few hours of one memorable July day had wrought in my
circumstances and position.
As the thought occurred to me I was standing in the library of Gramberg
Castle, my hands plunged deep in my pockets, deliberately dallying with
my fate, as I watched the black dress of the Prince's beautiful daughter
moving slowly among the gayly colored flower-beds in the warm sunshine,
like a soothing shadow in the brilliant glare.
I was face to face with a temptation which I found infinitely alluring
and immeasurably difficult to resist.
For five years I had been enduring an existence of monotonous emptiness,
that depressed me till my heart ached and my spirit wearied; and now a
chance of change had been thrust upon me, all against my seeking, at
which my pulses were beating high with the bound of hope, my blood
running once again with the old quick tingling of excitement, and,
through the reopened portals of a life akin to that from which I had
been thrust, desire, ambition, pleasure, hazard, were all beckoning to
me with fascinating invitation.
I turned from the window and threw myself into a deep easy-chair to
think.
Five years before I had passed in a moment from a position of Royal
favor, with limitless ambition and opportunities, to one where death was
avowedly the only alternate.
And no one had recognized this more readily than I myself.
I am half English by birth. My mother was an English woman, and went to
the Prussian Court in the small suite of the bride whom "Unser Fritz"
carried from England. My father rose very high in Royal favor, and, as a
consequence, I was thrown early in life in the company of the young
Princes. We grew up close and intimate companions; and when I chose the
navy for my profession every facility was employed to insure my
advancement. I had been about five years in the navy, and was already a
flag-lieutenant, when the smash came. Happily my father and mother were
both dead then.
We were not puritans in those days, and there were some wild times. The
last of these in which I took a part finished up on the Imperial yacht;
and a wild enough time it was.
I had drunk much more freely than the rest--there were only some
half-dozen of us altogether--and then, being a quarrelsome, hot-headed
fool, I took fire at some words that fell from the Prince, and I gave
him the lie direct. Exactly what happened I don't clearly remember;
but I know that he flung his wine right at my face, and I, forgetting
entirely that he was at once my future Emperor and my commanding
officer, clenched my fist and struck him a violent blow in the face
which knocked him down. He hit his head in falling, and lay still as
death. We thought at first he was dead. What followed can be imagined. I
cannot describe it. It sobered the lot of us; and our relief when we
found he was not dead, but only stunned, cannot be put in words.
[Illustration: HE FLUNG HIS WINE RIGHT AT MY FACE]
He was lifted up and laid on the table, his face all ghastly gray-white,
save where the mark of my blow on the cheek stood out red and livid--a
sight I shall never forget.
When the doctor came we told him the Prince had had an ugly fall, and,
as soon as he showed signs of coming round, I left and went off to my
ship, in a condition of pitiable consternation and remorse.
I nearly shot myself that night. I took out my revolver twice and laid
it between my teeth, and was only stopped by the consideration that, if
I did it, my suicide would be connected with the affair, and some
garbled account of the brawl and of what was behind it would leak out.
The next day old Count von Augener, who had been telegraphed for, came
to my cabin. He hated me as he had hated my father, and I knew it.
The interview was brief enough, and he sounded the keynote in the
sentence with which he opened it.
"You are still alive, lieutenant?" he said, bending on me a piercing
look from under his shaggy, beetling brows.
"Say what you have to say, and be good enough to keep from taunts," I
answered, and then told him the thought that alone had stopped me from
shooting myself.
He listened in silence, and at the close nodded.
"You have enough wit when the wine's out, and you understand what you
have done. Were you other than you are, you would be tried by
court-martial and shot. But your act is worse than that of a
mutineer--you are a coward"--I started to my feet--"because you have
struck a man you know cannot demand satisfaction."
I sank again into my chair and covered my face in shame, for the taunt
was true. But to have it thus flung at me ruthlessly was worse than a
red-hot brand plunged into my flesh.
The old man stopped and looked at me, pleased that he had thus tortured
me.
"There is but one course open to you. You know that?"
"I know it," I answered sullenly.
"Only one reparation you can make. Your death can appear to be either
accidental or natural--anyhow, provided that it is at once. You can have
a week; after that, if you are alive, you will die an infamous death."
"I understand," I replied, rising as he rose. "Will you give my
assurance to the Prince and the Emperor that ..."
"I am no tale-bearer, sir," he answered sternly. "The one desire now is
to forget that you ever lived." And flinging these harsh words at me, he
left me humiliated, ashamed, angry, and impotently remorseful.
Not another word should pass my lips. How should I die? It was not so
easy as it seemed. A fatal accident to appear genuine called for clever
stage-management, and I did not see how to arrange matters.
I applied for leave, and went to Berlin. There was one man there who
could help me--old Dr. Mein. He was a bachelor recluse, an Englishman
who had been naturalized, and in the old days he had been in love with
my mother. It was she who told me the tale just before her death, when
urging me to trust him should I ever find myself in need of an
absolutely reliable, level-headed friend. I knew that he loved me for
the English blood in my veins. I told him what I had to do; but at first
did not mention the cause. He listened intently, questioned me shrewdly,
and then stopped to think.
"You want me to murder you, or at least give you the means of murdering
yourself?" he said bluntly.
"If you don't help me, I shall do it without you, that's all," I
returned.
He paused again to think, pursing up his lips, and fixing his keen blue
eyes upon me.
"I have loved you like my own son, and you ask me to kill you?"
"My mother would have had me come to you, because I am in trouble."
"You have no right to be in trouble. You are no fool. You have all your
father's wealth--millions of marks; you have your mother's English
blood--which is much better; you have her brains--which is best of all;
you have a noble profession--the sea; you enjoy the Imperial favor and
friendship--a slippery honor, maybe; and you are certain of rapid
promotion to almost any height you please. Why, then, should you want to
die?"
"Because I have sacrificed everything by my reckless temper," I
answered, and told him what had happened. "I have no option but to die,"
I concluded. "If you will not help me----" I broke the sentence and got
up to go.
"I didn't say I wouldn't help you--I will." I sat down again. "You don't
care how you die, so long as it's quickly?" I shook my head. "Very well.
I have in my laboratory the bacilli of a deadly fever. I will inject the
virus into your veins. In three days you will be in the fever's grip,
and in less than a week you will be dead." I took off my coat and bared
my arms to show my readiness. "I make only one condition. You must be
ill here; I must watch the progress of the experiment."
"Nothing will suit me better," I returned.
He made the injection there and then, and gave me two days to be away
and wind up my affairs; and when I returned to him he made another
injection and put me to bed. That night I was in a raging fever. All the
paraphernalia of a sick-bed were soon in evidence, and the following day
it was known all over Berlin that the wealthy young Count von Rudloff
was down in the grip of a fever at the house of a once well-known
physician, Dr. Mein. The little house was besieged with callers. A few
only were admitted. Von Augener was one, and he brought with him the
Court physician.
I grew worse rapidly, and only in intermittent gleams of intelligence
was I conscious of the lean, grizzled face and watchful blue eyes of the
doctor bending over me, assuring me that I was a most interesting case,
and rapidly growing worse. For three days this continued, until in a
moment of consciousness I heard him say to the nurse:
"He cannot last through the night," and the woman turned and looked
sympathetically toward the bed.
I tried to speak, but could not. I could scarcely move; but they noticed
my restlessness, and the doctor came and bent over me.
"Am I dying?" I whispered.
"Yes. You must have courage. You are dying."
"I am glad. Thank you. I have no pain."
He turned away, and after a moment gave me my medicine. Then with a
touch soft like a woman's he smoothed the bedclothes, and bending down
put his lips to my forehead, and left me glad, as I had said, that the
end had come thus calmly.
I must have become unconscious again almost directly after that, for I
know nothing of what happened until I awoke gradually and found myself
in a place that was pitch dark. I was lying on the floor, though it felt
soft like a mattress, and when I stretched out my arm I touched a wall
that was soft like the floor.
I was quick in jumping to a conclusion. The doctor had fooled me, and
probably had fooled everybody else, about my illness and death. If I had
ever been ill, I was quite well now, and I scrambled up and strode about
the place, feeling all the walls and floor and everything within my
reach. I soon knew where I was. It was the old fellow's padded room. I
knew, too, that I could do no good by struggling or shouting or trying
to get out of it. I must wait, and I sat down on the floor to think.
After what seemed like many hours an electric light was switched on, and
I saw a sheet of paper pinned to the wall. It was a letter from the
doctor.
"I have done what your mother would have wished. You have the makings of
a real man in you, and you must not die. Every one thinks you dead; and
not a soul suspects. Your funeral took place yesterday, amid all the
pomp of Court mourning; and all the papers to-day are full of
descriptions of your career, your illness, death, and funeral. But you
will live to do yourself justice; if need be, in another name. Your next
career you must make, however, and not merely inherit. But you are your
mother's son, and will not flinch."
The old man had known me better than I knew myself. I had been glad to
die; but the pulse of life runs strong in the twenties; and the shrewd
old beggar was right. Half an hour later I was glad to live; and when he
came to me I was quite ready to thank him for what he had done.
We had a long talk about my future, and he urged me to go to England.
"You can be an Englishman; indeed, you are one already. Your family must
have rich and powerful friends there; and there you can make a career."
But I would not give my assent. I had no plans, and was in the mood to
make none.
"I will see," I answered. "I am a dead man, and the dead are more the
concern of Providence than the living. I will drift for a while in the
back waters," and I shrugged my shoulders.
I made no plans. That night I left Berlin, and as the train whirled me
southward I tried with resolute hand to make the barrier that shut out
the old life so bullet-proof that not even the stinging thoughts of
impotent remorse and regret could wound me. I was only human, however,
and barely twenty-three; and the sorrow of my loneliness was like a
cankered wound. I felt like a shipwrecked derelict waif on the wide
callous sea of stranger humanity.
And like a derelict I drifted for a while, and accident determined a
course for me. At Frankfort, where I stayed a considerable time, a
chance meeting in a hotel gave me as a companion an actor, and in his
room at the theatre one night he asked me if I would care to join his
company. All life was to be but a burlesque for me, and, as it seemed
the training might be useful, I consented.
I threw myself into the mimic business with ardor, and stayed with the
company four years. Under the guise of professional enthusiasm I became
a past master in the art of making up, and altered my appearance
completely. I changed my voice until it was two full tones lower than by
nature, and I practised an expression and accent altogether unlike my
own. Under the tuition of a clever old acrobat, who had deformed himself
until he was past work, I changed entirely the character of my walk and
carriage. I cultivated assiduously marked peculiarities of gesture and
manner; and by constant massage even the contour of my features was
altered, and lines and wrinkles were brought with results that
astonished me.
After some three years of this I tested these results by a visit to the
only man who knew me to be alive--Dr. Mein. I wished him to know what I
was doing, but was not willing to trust the secret on paper. I went to
him in my professional name, Heinrich Fischer, and consulted him for
about half an hour about an imaginary complaint, without his having an
idea of my identity. Once or twice he looked at me with an expression of
rather doubting inquiry; but he did not know me. He wrote me a
prescription, and, rising to go, I laid a fee on his table.
Then I lingered on, and he glanced at me in polite surprise. I smiled;
and he fixed his little glittering eyes on mine steadily, as if I were a
lunatic.
"Have you any more bacilli to spare, doctor?" I whispered.
A start, a quick frown, and the closing together of his eyebrows showed
his surprise. Then he wheeled me round to the light.
"Are you----?"
He stopped short, his face alight with doubt and interrogation.
"I am Heinrich Fischer, an actor--now," I replied.
The last word was quite enough, and the tough old man almost broke down
in the delight of recognition. When I explained to him the elaborate
processes by which I had changed my figure, looks, and voice, he grew
intensely interested in me as a strange experiment, and declared that
not a soul in all the world would recognize me.
My visit was a brief one, though he pressed me earnestly to stay with
him; and when I would not he said he would come to me at Frankfort, and
that I must be his adopted son. But he never came, and we never met
again. A letter or two passed between us--I had altered even my
handwriting--and then a year later came the news to me that he was
dead--had died suddenly in the midst of his work--and that I was left
his heir.
This again changed my life, for his fortune gave me abundant means; and
as I considered my actor training had been sufficient, I resolved to
close that chapter of my life.
It would have been a commonplace affair enough, with an accompaniment of
nothing more than a few mutual personal regrets, but for one incident.
One of the actresses--a handsome, passionate woman, named Clara
Weylin--had done me the quite unsolicited honor to fall violently in
love with me; and when, at the time of parting, I could not tell her
that we should ever meet again--for I had not the least intention or
wish to do so--she was first tearful, then hysterical, and at last
vindictively menacing.
"There's a secret about you, Fischer," she cried passionately. "I've
always thought so; and, mark me, I'll find it out some day; and then
you'll remember this, and your treatment of Clara Weylin. Look to
yourself."
I tried to reason away her somewhat theatrical resentment, but she
interpreted my words as an indication that she had struck home; and she
flung away, with a toss of the head, another threat, and a look of
bitter anger. I thought no more of the incident then--though afterward I
had occasion enough to recall it; and when the evening brought me a
letter from her, couched in very loving terms, I tossed it into the fire
with a feeling akin to contempt. The next morning I left the town early,
and was off on a purposeless and once more planless ramble.
With the stage I dropped also my stage name, for I had no wish to be
known as an ex-play-actor; and as the old doctor's original counsel
chanced to occur to me, I turned English. I now let my beard and
mustaches grow; and I was satisfied that, with my changed carriage and
looks, not a soul in the whole fatherland would recognize in Henry
Fisher, a sober-looking English gentleman, travelling for pleasure and
literary purposes, the once well-known and dashing naval lieutenant and
Court favorite, the Count von Rudloff.
I moved from point to point aimlessly for some months until the vapid,
vacuous monotony of the existence sickened and appalled me. Then
suddenly chance or Fate opened a gate of life.
CHAPTER II
A GATE OF LIFE
I was droning in the small Rhine town Hamnel, close to Kehl, and struck
up a casual acquaintance with a man of about my own age, named von
Fromberg, to whom I had been at first attracted somewhat by the fact
that in some respects he resembled myself. It happened, too, that one
night I was able to render him a little service.
I was walking late near the river when he came rushing up to me to beg
me to help him against the attack of a couple of men who were running
after him with some angry threats. He was trembling and very much
excited, although there did not seem to me to be much cause for fear;
for the men sheered off as soon as they saw he was no longer alone.
My companion was greatly agitated, however, and talked, as I thought
very absurdly, about my having saved his life. For the next two or three
days he would scarcely leave my side; and during that time he poured
into my ears much of what was filling his soul. It was only a little
soul, and the contents mere tags and patches of dishevelled passion and
emotions, though to him all real and disturbing enough.
He was a student and a dreamer, and of course in love. He had in some
way got mixed up in some brawling with the men who I had seen pursuing
him, and the whole trouble had set his little pulses throbbing and
palpitating with the fear of terrible but quite vague consequences.
He told me also his love troubles. The girl he wished to marry was
French, and while his people hated the French, her father would only
allow him to marry the daughter if he would become a Frenchman. And
mingled up with all this was a strange story of family complications.
The pith of this was that his uncle, the head of the family, the Prince
von Gramberg, a well enough known man, had written to urge him to go at
once to the castle, declaring that his instant presence was imperative.
Von Fromberg was thus the prey of three sets of emotions--desire to
marry the French girl; terror of the men he had in some way provoked;
and deadly fear that his uncle would prevent his turning French, and so
stop his marriage. The last disquieted him the most.
"He has never seen me," he cried quite passionately, "never even given a
thought to me, till I suppose he thinks that, as his son is now dead, I
can be of some use to him. And he is such a fire-eating old devil he
would think nothing of kidnapping me and shutting me up till I did what
he wanted, and gave up my marriage. He loathes everything French."
It was difficult to associate von Fromberg with any very fire-eating
kith and kin, but I sympathized vaguely, and soon found out his reasons
for giving me his confidence. He wanted me to help him, and the request
took a singular shape. He was to be married, and was crossing the
frontier to Charmes for the purpose; and as he was very fearful of
interruption and pursuit, he wished me to remain in Hamnel for a couple
of days in his name.
It sounded ridiculous, and of course I demurred, pointing to a dozen
difficulties that might follow. He pressed me very strongly, however,
until I had to tell him pretty curtly that I would do nothing of the
sort. He was silent a minute and then said:
"Of course it must be as you please, but if I tell people that your name
is really von Fromberg and mine Fisher it will not hurt any one."
"I shall very speedily undeceive them," I answered promptly, and thought
little more about the matter. But on that day I had to change my
residence, and the next morning I found to my annoyance that he had
indeed told the people at both houses that my name was in reality von
Fromberg and his Fisher.
It was too small a matter to make a fuss about; and as I reflected that
the only result would be to let him get married with fewer fears, I kept
my anger till we should meet again.
But I little foresaw the consequences.
I was away for several hours in the latter part of the day, walking and
sketching, and on my return to the house at night I thought there was
something strange in the manner of a servant who met me and said two
gentlemen were waiting for me in my room.
"For me?" I said, with some astonishment; for I could not think of any
two men in the whole empire likely to come for me.
"Yes, sir, for you. They asked for you first as Herr von Fromberg, then
as Mr. Fisher."
"Some more tomfoolery," I thought, as I went up the stairs, and then it
flashed across me that they might be connected with the visit von
Fromberg had been fearing.
A glance at the two men who rose at my entrance showed me they were at
least gentlemen--officers, I thought, in mufti. They were both dark,
and one--the elder--carried a beard, the other a heavy mustache only.
"Good evening, gentlemen," I said quietly. "To what do I owe the favor
of this visit?"
I was disposed to be on my guard for von Fromberg's sake. The man with
the beard answered.
"This is the first time we have met, Herr von Fromberg. My name is von
Krugen, and my friend's Steinitz."
I was not quite sure whether to repudiate von Fromberg's name at once,
or to wait until I knew more of the errand. I decided that it could do
no harm to wait.
"And your object in coming?" I asked.
I saw a glance pass between the two, and the younger stepped past me
casually, and took up a position close to the door. This interested me
at once. It was quite obviously a move to prevent my running away. They
seemed to understand von Fromberg's character.
"I think you will be able to guess," he replied, waiting until his
companion had carried out the manoeuvre. "We wish to have a little
private conversation with you, and to induce you to go with us--you will
know where."
"And to make sure that it shall be private, I suppose you got your
friend to stand over there by the door," I said, motioning toward him.
"A merely superfluous caution, I am sure," was the answer, given with a
smile; "but a locked door always keeps intruders out."
"And prisoners in," I retorted.
"True," he assented, with another smile. "So you may as well lock it,
Steinitz," and this was done promptly.
I laughed. I had, of course, nothing to fear.
"I shouldn't run away," I said. "You interest me too much, though what
on earth you are doing here I can't for the life of me guess."
"We come from your uncle, the Prince von Gramberg, and I am specially
charged to tell you that matters of the deepest moment, involving issues
of life and death, make it absolutely imperative that you should go with
us to the castle at once."
He spoke in so earnest a tone that his words produced an immediate
effect upon me. I had no right to play fast and loose with the affairs
of a powerful family--and the Prince's reputation was well enough known
to me. Obviously I must at once explain the mistake as to my identity. I
was sorry I had not done so at once.
"You are speaking in error, and I must tell you before you say another
word. I am not the nephew of the Prince von Gramberg."
"I am aware you have denied yourself. You are Herr von Fromberg? I
addressed you so a minute since."
"No. My name is not von Fromberg, but Fisher. I am English."
"Oh, yes, I know that. They told me that you preferred to be called
that. But I am not here to pay heed to small preferences of the kind.
These are no trifling concerns."
"They are no concerns of mine at all," I answered shortly. "And now that
I have explained this, have the goodness to leave my rooms."
I turned to the door as I spoke, but the man standing there made no
movement at all.
"Where, then, is Herr von Fromberg?" asked the older man, with
incredulity manifest in his tone.
"I cannot tell you. I believe I know, but I am not at liberty to say."
"I did not think you would be," he returned dryly. "But are you prepared
to go to the castle with us? You can explain afterward that we have
taken you there wrongfully," he added, with ironical courtesy.
"Certainly I am not."
I spoke warmly, for his manner irritated me.
"Then will you have the goodness to inform me how it is that you are
here in the character of Herr von Fromberg, with the people of the house
looking upon you as that gentleman, and yourself answering to the name?"
My story was too tame and lame for me to think of telling it. I took
shelter behind indignation.
"I shall certainly give no explanation which is demanded of me by those
who have forced themselves into my room and hold me a prisoner in it in
this way," I answered hotly.
"Then you will scarcely be surprised that, as I have been informed you
are Herr von Fromberg, and you have answered to the name to me, I cannot
accept your repudiation. I do not know why you are so anxious to deny
your identity and to keep away from the great position that has opened
to you since the death of the Prince's son."
This was thrown out to test me.
"I should refuse no position offered to me, I can assure you, if it were
offered rightfully. But I am not the Prince's nephew."
"You are sufficiently like him to satisfy me, and I'm a good deal
mistaken if you have not a good deal of his Highness's spirit. But now
it is useless to talk any more here. You will go with us, of course? he
asked abruptly.
"Of course I will do nothing of the sort."
"Very well, then, I suppose we must go alone. Steinitz!" he called
sharply, jerking his head as if bidding the other to unlock the door;
and he himself made as if to leave the room.
My back was to the second man, and before I even suspected treachery he
sprang upon me from behind, pinioned my arms, and bound them, while the
elder man held a revolver pointed right between my eyes.
"I am sorry you have driven me to do this," he said; "for I am perhaps
making you a deadly enemy when I would rather serve you with my life if
necessary. But my master's orders are imperative. We are playing for
high stakes there, and have to throw boldly at times. Your presence is
necessary at the castle, and my instructions are to take you there, free
or by force. Will you go without compelling me to use force?"
I looked calmly at his revolver. There was no fear he would fire.
"We can scarcely cross the empire in a procession of this kind," I said,
meeting his stern look with a smile and a shrug of the shoulders.
"We shall not try," he answered promptly. "We shall go as doctors--you
as a mad patient, who has escaped from an asylum. I have come prepared
with the necessary papers; and I need not remind you that your own
actions here have helped this plan."
"I tell you again I am not the man you seek," I cried angrily; for I saw
the power of his threat.
"I take my chance of that. You can explain to the Prince."
"This is monstrously ridiculous," I exclaimed hotly. "There are a
thousand proofs here in this room that I am not the man you want. Put
your hand in my pocket here and you will see by my letters that I am
not."
After a moment's pause he did so; and then, too late, I remembered von
Fromberg had given me one of his uncle's letters to read which I had not
returned. The man chanced to take it out first and held it up.
"Your own proof," he said laconically, and thrust them all back again.
"You are making fools of every one concerned," I cried, very angrily.
"Will you give your word of honor to go with us?" was his answer,
stolidly spoken. "It is time to start."
It was useless to fight further, so with another shrug of the shoulders
I gave up.
"I warn you the whole thing's a farce, though I can't make you believe
it. I'll go with you; but you must put up with the consequences."
In another moment I was free, and he was profuse with his apologies.
As he opened the door to leave some one came running up the stairs
looking hot and agitated. To my relief it was von Fromberg.
"How is it you're back so soon?" I cried. "Never mind how it is; you
come in the nick of time anyhow. This is Herr von Fromberg, gentlemen.
These gentlemen are from your uncle, and wish you to go with them."
"You said you would go freely with us, sir," whispered the elder man at
my side. "You gave your word of honor."
"But this is the man you want," I cried, pointing to von Fromberg, who
was staring like one panic-stricken from me to the others.
The elder man turned to him.
"Are you the Herr von Fromberg?"
"Certainly not," he stammered, with a quick look of appeal to me. "This
is----" He quailed before the look I gave him and stopped.
"You are not going to deny yourself, man?" I cried.
"Deny myself, von Fromberg," he answered, with a forced, uneasy laugh.
"Why should I? My name is Fisher. Do you want me?" he said to the two.
"Certainly not. Our business is with this gentleman. This is Herr von
Fromberg, is it not?"
"Yes, certainly," was the reply, with another forced laugh.
"Now, will you keep your word?" said the man in a meaning tone to me.
"Or will you compel me ..." He did not finish the sentence.
"Oh, just as you like. Only I warn you it's all an infernal blunder,"
and with that I went with them.
At the bottom of the stairs I turned and looked up at the man for whom I
was mistaken. He nodded and made signs to me as if thanking me, and
urging me to keep up the deception.
I said not a word more, but went with the two men in dogged silence.
When we reached the station, I flung myself into a corner of the railway
carriage, my companions mounting guard over me, one at my side, the
other in the opposite corner.
We travelled through the night, changing trains more than
once--sometimes travelling at express speed, sometimes crawling, and now
and again making long stops at junctions. I scarcely spoke, except to
protest that it was all a fool's journey; and when the elder man
attempted to talk to me, I stopped him peremptorily, saying that as a
stranger I had not the least wish to learn anything of the family's
affairs. I would not hear a word until we reached the castle.
There, however, a surprise awaited me that pierced the shell of my
apathy in an instant, and filled me with a sudden longing to go on with
the strange part for which my companions had thus cast me.
The greatest deference was shown to me on my arrival, and I was ushered
into a large and lofty room, while the elder man went to inform the
Prince of my arrival, the younger man remaining with me.
The castle was certainly magnificent; and I could not refrain from an
intense wish that I were indeed the heir to such a glorious place and
position. My thoughts slipped back to the old life that I had thrown
away, contrasting it with the mockery of my stale, humdrum existence,
and I asked myself what I would not give for such a career as I felt I
could build out of the materials Fortune had now shovelled into my lap
with this taunting munificence.
Then I saw from the window a young golden-haired girl, standing among
the flower-beds. She was dressed all in black, the exquisitely beautiful
and regular features set and saddened with an expression of profound
grief and melancholy. She was holding some freshly plucked roses in her
hand, and after she had plucked one or two others a serving-maid
approached and said something to her; and she turned and looked toward
the window at which I stood. Probably mere curiosity was the motive, but
to me it seemed as if the look were instinct with anxiety, doubt, and
appeal.
Suddenly I saw her start and glance round; and if ever a face told of
fear and repulsion hers did, for all the struggle that her pride made to
repress the evidence of her emotion, and to force up a smile to cover an
aching heart.
Then I saw the cause of the change.
A man came into view, and my heart gave a great leap of anger that had
long slumbered. I had known him in the old life for the falsest
scoundrel that ever cheated a friend or ruined a woman. The mere sight
of him set me on fire. He had dealt me a foul and treacherous wrong, and
when I had sought him to call him to account he had fled, and I could
never trace him.
I watched him now as he spoke to the girl, and my old hate awoke till I
could have found it in me to rush out there and then to cast his
foulness in his face and choke his life out of him. And my brow gathered
in an angry scowl as I watched the girl's struggle between pride and
loathing when she answered him, and shrank back from the sensual brute
stare of his eyes.
As soon as I could keep my voice steady I called my companion to the
window.
"Who are those?" I asked.
"The Countess Minna, the Prince's only daughter, now his only child. It
is she who, under heaven, will be the Queen of----"
He checked himself when he caught my look of intense surprise.
"And the man. Who is he?"
"The Count von Nauheim, her future husband."
"God help her, then," said I, with involuntary fervor.
My companion started and looked at me.
"Do you know----"
"I know nothing," I replied very curtly. "These are no concerns of mine.
But I can read a face." He looked at me searchingly, but I had taken my
watch out and was playing with the guard. "This Prince seems a devil of
a long time sending for me. If he keeps me much longer I shall lose my
train back."
I spoke indifferently, and threw myself into a chair to think.
I sat a long time buried in these old rustled reflections, until the
chain of thought was snapped abruptly, and I sprang to my feet as a
great cry ran through the castle, and the sound of a woman's sobbing.
"What's that?" I asked of the man with me, who had changed color and was
manifestly disturbed.
"I don't understand it," he said, after a long pause, during which he
went and stood by the door, as if doubting whether I might try to leave.
The sounds of confusion in the castle increased. Servants were hurrying
in all directions; but no one came to us.
Later on the toll of a heavy bell sounded with vibrating echoes through
the hot, heavy, sleepy air. A minute after it was repeated; and before
the sound had died away the elder of the two men came back into the
room. He was deadly pale, and so agitated that his voice trembled. He
approached me and bowed with signs of deep respect.
"I bring you the worst of news. The Prince is dead; and your Highness is
master in his stead."
"Dead!" I cried, in the profoundest astonishment.
"He was stricken this morning, and lay dying when we entered the castle.
And he was dead before your Highness could be summoned."
A protest leapt to my lips. But I did not give it utterance. The thought
of the girl I had seen, the Countess Minna, left helpless in the power
of that consummate villain von Nauheim, silenced me. I would wait until
at least I had time to think out a course of action.
CHAPTER III
"AS YOUR HIGHNESS WILL"
The perplexing difficulty of my position was extreme. The eyes of both
men were fixed on me, noting every expression that crossed my face,
waiting upon my lightest word, and eager to show their allegiance to me
as the new head of the house.
A career of magnificent promise lay invitingly at my very feet, and I
had but to utter a word to step into a position of power and influence.
Moreover, every chivalrous instinct of my nature was stirred with a
desire to save the beautiful girl I had seen from the clutch of the man
threatening her with worse than ruin; while my red-hot desire for
revenge on the man himself was prompting me to stay where I was until at
least I could expose and punish him.
His sin against me had been the one absolutely unforgivable. He had
married my sister; and too late we had discovered that at the time he
was already married. The blow and the shame had killed her and broken my
mother's heart; and over my sister's coffin I had sworn to have his life
for hers. But he had fled, and no efforts of mine had been able to find
him up to the hour of my own supposed death. And now here he was
delivered into my hands, and actually in the very act of repeating his
foul offence. Fate had surely brought us together in this dramatic
fashion. I could not disclose my identity to him; but I could be the
agent to detect this new sin, and could thus myself punish him for the
old.
With my pulses throbbing with this fire, was it likely that I could make
an instant decision in accordance with the dictates of mere surface
conventionality? I held back from the decision, and even then might have
persisted in avowing the truth, when the man himself came ruffling into
the room. His strong, dark, coarse features wore an expression of
bullying assertiveness; his manner was that of the lord of the place
toward an interloper; and he spoke to me in the hectoring tone of a
master toward an inferior servant. The personal contact with him, the
sound of his voice, the insolent look of his heavy eyes, and my old hate
of him were like so many knots on a whiplash goading me to fury.
"I heard you had come, but I suppose you know your errand is a fruitless
one."
Had I been the most contemptible lickspittle on the meanest and
greediest quest, his expression could not have been worse. I saw the
other two men exchange a rapid glance.
"What do you deem my errand?" I asked quietly.
"Oh, that's plain enough," he answered, with a sneer. "You've come after
what you can get. The Prince probably sent you by these agents of
his"--with a contemptuous sweep of the hand toward them--"some wonderful
account of the good things in store for you here, and very naturally you
came to gather them. But the Prince's death has knocked the bottom out
of that barrel," and he laughed very coarsely. "There's nothing here for
you except an empty title, and a beggarly old castle mortgaged from the
bottom of the old moat to the tip-top of the flagstaff. That and a mess
of very hazardous intrigue is all you can hope for here."
This speech, coarse and contemptible as it was under such circumstances,
was not to be compared with the ineffable brutality of the manner which
marked its delivery. I was astounded that any man could so behave; but I
saw his motive instinctively.
He had heard little of me except as a meek-spirited student, likely to
shy at any danger, and his object was to frighten me away.
"And who are you, then?" I asked. "These gentlemen have told me nothing
of the position of matters here."
"Then the sooner you know something the better. Have the goodness to
leave us, Captain von Krugen."
The latter started, as I thought angrily, at the sharp imperious tone in
which he was addressed, and glanced at me in some hesitation.
"Do you hear me, sir?" exclaimed von Nauheim, still more sharply; and
then, getting no sign from me, the two men left the room. "That fellow
gets more presuming every day. The Prince made far too much of him; but
I'll soon have a change. So you don't know the position of things here,
eh, Mr. Student? Do you set much store on your life?" And he eyed me
very sharply, expecting to see me wince.
I did not disappoint him. I started and, in a tone of some alarm, asked:
"Why? There is no danger of that sort here, is there?"
"Do you know how your late cousin, Gustav, lost his?"
"What do you mean?"
"Ah, I thought the question would surprise you. I'm not going to tell
you everything, because these matters are for men of action, and not
bookworms. He died in a duel, forced on him for the sole reason that he
was the Prince's next heir."
"Oh, but that cannot be possible," I cried, as if incredulous.
"Possible," he echoed, with a laugh. "Can you fight? I mean, do you
think you can stand before the finest swordsmen or the picked shots in
all Bavaria?"
"I don't see the necessity."
"Perhaps not--just yet," he returned dryly. "Poor Gustav didn't--but the
time came none the less. The man who puts on the mantle of the dead
Prince upstairs must look to find little in the pockets except
challenges."
"But what of you? Who are you? Why do you tell me this?"
"Because I dislike attending funerals," he replied, with a grim laugh.
"Besides, I am a soldier; and it's my business to fight. You have
probably heard my name already. I'm the Count von Nauheim, and the late
Prince's daughter is my betrothed wife."
"And you mean, I suppose, that all the Prince's wealth will pass to the
daughter?"
"That is the Prince's will. And you weren't in time to get him to alter
it, you see," he sneered; but I let the sneer pass for the moment.
"Then you will be the head of the family in all but the name--the
husband of the daughter, the owner of the wealth, and the guardian of
its honor?"
"You can put a point with the clearness of a lawyer," he said.
"Have you, then, fought the man who killed the son Gustav?"
As I asked the question I kept my eyes fixed steadily on his, and all
his bluster could not hide his discomfiture.
"These are things you don't understand," he said bruskly. "There is much
behind--too much to explain to you."
"But if you say that my cousin Gustav was murdered, that you know this
to be so, that fighting is your business, and that you are the guardian
of the family's honor, why have you not called the murderer to account?"
"I tell you you don't understand these things. We don't manage matters
like a parcel of swaggering student duels."
"Apparently not," I answered in a studiously quiet tone. "Students would
say in such a case that you did not fight because--you dared not."
"You speak with a strange license, and if you are not careful you will
get yourself into trouble!" he cried furiously, trying to frighten me
with a bullying stare. "You won't find every one ready to make such
allowances for your _gaucherie_ as I am. You will have the goodness to
withdraw that suggestion."
"I will do so with pleasure the moment I know you have challenged the
man you call a murderer, or have repeated in his presence what you have
said about him to me."
His surprise at this unexpected tone of quiet insistence on my part was
almost laughable; but he tried to carry it off and bear me down with his
boisterous, bullying manner.
"You had better take heed how you presume on my forbearance toward one
in your position, or even the fact that you are nominally a member of
the family will not prevent me from giving you a pretty severe lesson."
"You mean, I suppose, that, although you dared not challenge the man who
killed Gustav, you think you might tackle me with impunity. That is not
a very high standard of courage," and I shrugged my shoulders, and
curled my lips in contempt, as I added, "If that is all the protection
the Gramberg honor can rely upon, God save the family reputation."
The sneer drove him mad, and the blood rushed to his face, until every
one of his coarse features glowed with his passion.
"With the Prince lying dead in the castle, this is not the time for such
a matter to be settled; but I will not suffer such an insult even from
you to pass unpunished. Why should you seek to force a quarrel on me at
such a time?"
"You forget the quarrel is of your making," I answered coolly. "The
moment you entered this room you insulted me by saying I had come here
for what I could get, and sneered that I was too late to induce the
Prince to alter the will leaving his property to his daughter. In my
view that will is perfectly just and right. Then for some object, I know
not what as yet, you tried to frighten me into running away from the
place altogether. You have mistaken your man, sir. I have no hankering
for the late Prince's wealth; but what you have said of yourself is more
than enough to prove that the honor of my family is not in safe keeping
when left in your hands. As there is nothing but that honor, I will
accept that part of the inheritance."
Rage, hate, threats, and baffled malice were in the look he turned on me
at this.
"You wish to make me your enemy?"
"At least I have no wish to make you my friend," I retorted.
"You will live to repent this bitterly!" he cried, with an oath. "We
will have no meddlers here in the path of our purpose," and, still more
enraged by the smile which the threat evoked from me, he went hurriedly
out of the room.
Truly my years of self-repression had wrought a great change in me. Five
years before his hot insolence would have so fired me that I would have
made him answer for it on the spot; but now I could hold my anger in
check and wait for my revenge. But this little conflict was my first
live experience for five years, and the sense of it pleased me.
When the man had left me I had no longer any scruples about going
forward with my new character. There was no one to be robbed of a
fortune, no one to be supplanted in a coveted position--nothing but an
overpawned castle to be gained. There was apparently a dangerous
intrigue to be faced, and a sweet girl's honor to be saved, and a
treacherous villain to be exposed and punished--not the kind of
inheritance which many men would covet. But then few men were ever
placed in my situation.
I was thinking hard over all this when my two captors came back into the
room hurriedly, both very angry. Von Nauheim had seen them after leaving
me, and had vented his anger on them. They asked me now excitedly if it
was my wish that they should leave the castle immediately after the
Prince's funeral. I listened to them very quietly. I had already had
pretty strong evidence of the lengths to which their zeal for the
family's affairs would induce them to go; and von Nauheim's hostility
to them was a powerful recommendation in my eyes.
"I beg you to be calm, gentlemen," I said, "and to bear in mind that I
know very little of the position of affairs here. I have understood from
you that you were both largely in the late Prince's confidence--indeed,
you have given me pretty good proof of that since yesterday. But beyond
that I do not know what your relations here have been in the past."
"We have been for years in the Prince's confidential service; I myself
enjoyed his closest confidence," answered Captain von Krugen. "But my
allegiance is to the head of the house. I recognize no one else."
"And you desire to remain in that service?"
"I have no other wish in life, sir," he replied earnestly.
"Nor I," assented the other.
"If you were in his confidence, you will know that the late Prince has
left to his successor no means of maintaining a large retinue."
"What I am and all that I have I owe to your late uncle," said the
captain in the same earnest tone. "I ask nothing else than to place my
sword and my fortune alike at your disposal. And I can speak for
Steinitz here. Our liberty and lives are indeed at issue in the present
crisis; and if all is not to fail ignominiously now, we must have a
strong hand and a clear head in command."
There was no mistaking the man's sincerity, and, usurper though I was,
the offer touched me.
"I believe you absolutely, Captain von Krugen, and you, Herr Steinitz,"
and I gave them my hand. "But, all the same, I do not know what crisis
you mean. Tell me freely."
"I tried to tell you on the journey here, but you prevented me. Do you
know the history of your family--the lineage on the side of the late
Prince's wife?"
"I know very little. Speak as freely as if I knew nothing. You will not
try my patience."
"Steinitz, see that there is no one about; and keep guard outside the
door that no one enters."
He paused while the younger man withdrew, and then, leading me to a deep
window-seat at the end of the room, began to speak in a low tone:
"There is a traitor somewhere among us, and thus the greatest need for
caution. For a long time previous to his death your uncle was engaged in
a task that involved the highest issues of State. The extreme discontent
at the antics of the madman who is now King of Bavaria induced a number
of the more prominent and bolder men in the country to plot his
overthrow. There is a slip in his ancestry, and the disappearance of a
certain Prince Otto, who was the heir to the throne, let in the younger
branch of the family, through whom the title has descended to the
present King. Otto was supposed to have died; but he was only eccentric.
He lived in secret retirement, married, and left a son. From that son,
who was unquestionably the rightful heir, the late wife of your uncle
came in direct descent. She was the only child of the eldest line, and
by right she should have reigned as Queen. As you know, she died, and
left the two children--Gustav, who was killed in a duel, and the
daughter, who is in the castle at this moment."
"Do you mean----?" I began when he paused.
"I mean that the Countess Minna von Gramberg should at this moment be
the Queen of Bavaria; and that by God's help we shall all live to see
her crowned."
His dark face flushed and his eyes glowed with the enthusiasm of this
speech.
My own feeling was more wonderment than enthusiasm, however. If this
most hazardous and ambitious scheme were afoot, what could be the
meaning of von Nauheim's share in it as the betrothed husband of a
future queen?
"The Prince's first intention was of course to put his son on the
throne, and matters were indeed well ripe for this, when unfortunately
he became embroiled in a duel and was killed. That duel we believe to
have been forced on him--murder in all but the actual form."
"And the man who killed him?" I asked.
"A noted Italian swordsman, Praga, hired and paid, as we believe, for
his work."
"Hired? By whom?"
"By the family who stand next in succession to the throne. The King, as
you know, has no children, and the succession passes to the Ostenburg
branch of the family. That was my master's main hope. Our claims are
stronger than theirs; and we had on this account secured the support of
most of the prominent men in the country."
"Well?" I asked, for he paused with a gesture of disappointment.
"Count Gustav's death threw everything back. Where they had been ready
to stand by a man, some of them drew back, frightened, from supporting a
young girl--and, unless a bold stroke be made now, everything may be
lost."
"What bold stroke do you mean?"
"Like that planned before. Everything was ready. We thought the
Ostenburg agents had not a suspicion of our plans. We had resolved to
take advantage of the mad King's fancies to lure him out on one of those
wild midnight drives of his, and then to seize his person and put one of
ourselves into his place, made up, of course, to resemble him; and to
let the dummy play the part of King long enough to enable us to get the
madman where he ought to have been long since--into restraint. Then the
dummy was to throw aside his disguise and declare that he had been
acting by the King's orders; that the latter had abdicated and had
proclaimed the Count Gustav his successor, as being the rightful lineal
heir. We should have done the rest. It was a brave scheme."
"It was as mad as the King himself," said I. "But what then?"
"It was just before things were ripe that the other side got wind
through some treachery somewhere; and the count was killed in the duel."
"Well?"
"Half the cowards drew away. But they will all come back the moment they
see us strike a blow; and it was to have you close at hand, helping in
the good work, that the Prince sent for you."
"And the Count von Nauheim?"
"The Prince had supreme confidence in him. He was not with us at first;
but his coming secured us the help of a very large and influential
section of the people--enough to turn the balance, indeed, and make the
scheme certain of success. The Prince welcomed him heartily enough, and
cheerfully complied with the condition fixed by those for whom he
acted--that the Countess Minna should be given to him in marriage."
This made me thoughtful, knowing as I did the man's character.
"And the daughter herself?"
My companion frowned, drawing his dark brows close together, and pursed
up his lips, as he replied ambiguously:
"Neither man nor woman at such a time can think of any but reasons of
State."
"You mean that she consented to give her hand, but could not give her
heart with it."
"I mean more than that, sir, and I must speak frankly to you. The
Countess Minna has never favored the scheme, but has strongly opposed
it--and opposes it still. Women have no ambition. She has no longing for
a throne; and now that her father is dead I fear--well, I do not know
what she may do. If you will urge her, she is her father's daughter, and
will, I believe, go through with it. But much will depend upon you."
"And if she does not go on with it--what then?"
"We are all pledged too deeply to draw back now, your Highness," he
answered, very earnestly. "We must either succeed or fail--there is no
middle course; and failure means a prison or a convent for the Prince's
daughter, and worse than ruin for the rest of us. As for yourself, you,
I warn you, will be the certain object of attack, for there is no safe
obscurity here. The enemies of your Highness's house will never rest
satisfied while a possible heiress to the throne remains at large, or
while those who have helped to put her there are alive and at liberty.
As I told you at Hamnel, we are playing for desperate stakes, and must
play boldly and like men."
Before I had time to reply we heard Steinitz in conversation with some
one outside the door, and a moment later he opened it, and said that the
Countess Minna was anxious to see me, and was coming to the library for
that purpose.
CHAPTER IV
"YOU ARE HEAD OF THE HOUSE NOW"
My chief feeling as I rose to receive the Prince's daughter was a sort
of shamefaced regret that I had allowed myself to be hurried into a
position which made it necessary for me to mislead her. I meant her
nothing but good. I had been brought to the castle all against my will.
I had stayed there largely in order that I might be the means of saving
her from danger; and everything I heard only served to increase that
danger in my view. Yet the fact of the deception I was practising
hampered and embarrassed me in her presence.
She was garbed now in the deepest black, was pale and hollow-eyed, and
trembling under the stress of her new sudden sorrow; and she seemed so
frail and fragile that my heart ached for her, while my senses were
thrilled by her exquisite beauty and by a strange subtle influence which
her presence exercised upon me. My pulses beat fast with a tumultuous
desire to help her in her helplessness. Never, indeed, had woman moved
me like this.
She paused a moment on the threshold, her hand on the arm of an elderly
lady who accompanied her; and her large blue eyes rested on my face,
searching, reading, and appealing, as I hastened across the room toward
her. Her scrutiny appeared to give her confidence, for she withdrew her
hand from her companion's arm and held it out to greet me.
"I felt I must come to bid you welcome, cousin," she said in a low,
sweet voice that trembled. "You are welcome--very welcome."
I took the hand and raised it to my lips.
"You should not have distressed yourself to come; I should have
understood," I answered.
"I felt that I must see you," she said, very graciously; and I,
remembering what I had seen in the garden and all that von Krugen had
told me, knew well enough the doubts and fears, anxieties and hopes,
that might lie behind the words.
I racked my brain for some sentence that would convey some assurance of
my wish to serve her; but I could find no words that pleased me; and
after a pause, that to me was awkward enough, she added:
"You are now my only relative in the world except my dear aunt here, the
Baroness Gratz."
The old lady made me a very stately and ceremonious bow, which I
returned with such courtesy as I could command.
"A great heritage has come to you, sir, and a trust that must test to
the utmost one so young in years," she said.
"My one life-purpose shall be to prove worthy of it," I answered
earnestly; and I thought the girl's eyes lightened a little at the
words.
"We were alarmed, sir, when we heard that you were unwilling to come,"
said the baroness.
"I am here, madam, to remove that alarm."
"The future fortunes of this noble house rest largely in your hands, as
well as those of this sweet child. You know that?" she asked in reply.
"I know little as yet; but in all I shall strive earnestly to win the
confidence of you both."
"You will have mine, cousin," said the girl, impulsively and almost
eagerly, as it seemed to me. "And at the earliest moment I wish to tell
you all that is in my thoughts and to ask your help."
"You will never ask that in vain, believe me," I returned, raising my
eyes to hers, which had all the time been fixed on my face.
"I do believe you--I am sure of you," she cried, again impulsively; and
I could have blessed her for the words. "And, oh, I am so glad you have
come. There is so much to change and set right."
"Minna!" said the aunt in a gently warning tone.
"I am with friends, and I can speak freely. I feel it. I am sure we
shall be friends, cousin. Shall we not? And you will be on my side?"
At this Captain von Krugen, who had remained at the other end of the
room, took two or three steps forward as if to speak; but the baroness
interposed, and after a warning glance at him whispered to the girl:
"We have not come for this now, child."
"The captain will be my friend, too, whatever happens, I am confident,"
said the girl, looking toward him; "even if I will not go forward with a
scheme that must die----"
The word distressed her, and she caught her breath, and her lips
faltered so that she could not finish the sentence. She sighed deeply
and turned to lean on her companion's arm again.
"You must not distress yourself, Minna," said the baroness gently.
A rather long, trying pause followed, during which the Countess Minna
appeared to be struggling to regain her self-composure. And at the
close she said, sadly and listlessly, and yet with a great effort to
speak firmly:
"I did not come to speak of these things now, but to ask you, cousin, to
do all that has to be done at this time of--of sorrow. You are the head
of the house now, and I trust you will use the authority."
"Until you desire otherwise," I answered. "You may depend upon me
absolutely."
"That is my wish, cousin; and when I can trust myself, we will have a
long conference."
She gave me her hand, and I was in the act of putting it once more to my
lips when hurried steps approached, and the Count von Nauheim entered
the room hastily. I felt the girl's fingers start, and involuntarily
they closed on mine in a little trembling gesture of half agitation and
fear. The touch thrilled me.
"I am surprised to find you here, Minna," he said bruskly. "I think,
baroness, it would have been more seemly if Minna had kept in her
apartments."
The old lady was more afraid of him than Minna herself, I could see, and
she murmured some half-incoherent excuses.
"I see no wrong in coming here to welcome the head of the house," said
the girl, trying to appear firm.
"Head of the house," he cried, with a sneer. "You are the head of the
house, and, as your affianced husband, it is for me to say what is
necessary in these matters of courtesy. I have already seen Herr von
Fromberg to welcome him, as you say. Nothing more was necessary. Let me
give you my arm to take you to my apartments. Come."
She hesitated an instant, and seemed as if about to refuse; but then
changed and placed the tips of her fingers on his arm, and as she did
so turned and bowed to me with a smile on her sweet, sad, pale face.
[Illustration: SHE TURNED AND BOWED TO ME WITH A SMILE.]
"I shall see you, cousin Hans, soon, as I said just now. In the mean
time I rely upon you to order all such arrangements as you think
best--as your position here now requires."
"This gentleman need not trouble himself," said the man, frowning
heavily and angrily. "I have given all necessary instructions."
"I will do what you wish," I said to her, ignoring him entirely.
I kept out of sight my rage at his conduct until the three had left the
room, and then, forgetting that I was not alone, I vented it in a heavy,
bitter oath, and turned to find von Krugen's keen dark eyes fixed upon
me.
I was annoyed to have thus bared my feelings to his quick gaze. I did
not wish him to know that I suspected, or even disliked, the count; but
he had seen it already.
"He would try to overrule even the Prince himself in the latter time;
and he takes interference very ill. He will ride roughshod over all of
us if he can."
"Ah, you do not like him," I answered. "But there is no room for
dissensions among ourselves. Let it go no farther."
"Have you any commands to give, your Highness? If I am to take them from
him, I am to leave the castle."
This was intended to see if I should exercise my authority.
"You will not leave, Captain von Krugen," I replied promptly. "Heaven
knows there is too much need of a faithful friend at such a juncture."
He bowed, and his eyes lighted with pleasure at my words. "And now,"
I added, "we will discuss together what has to be done, and try to
settle the arrangements."
There were, of course, many arrangements to be made, and the
consultation occupied a long time. As a result I issued a number of
directions such as seemed best, including those for the funeral, which I
fixed for three days later.
Then I had to consider my own matters, and to mature a plan which I had
formed after my interview with the Countess Minna. I felt that I could
not continue the deception in regard to myself; and I resolved that I
would use the interval before the funeral to try and find the real von
Fromberg, and bring him to the castle to take his own position. I would
come with him, and, by using the knowledge I possessed, help him in a
task which, if he had a spark of honor in his nature, he could not but
undertake.
The next day I took the captain so far into my confidence as to tell him
there was an urgent private matter to which I was compelled to attend,
and that I must return to Hamnel for that purpose. I told him to keep
the fact of my absence as secret as possible, saying merely that I was
out riding or walking, and that I would return soon. If the countess
asked for me, he was in confidence to tell her the truth, and to assure
her that, in any event, I should be back before the day of the funeral.
Moreover, he was to keep a most vigilant watch over everything and
everybody, and if my presence was urgently needed to telegraph to me to
Hamnel. But to no one was he to give that address.
I started early, and the same evening arrived at Hamnel, but failed to
find von Fromberg either in his own name or in mine; and theft I
hurried on to Charmes. There I caught him at the house of the Compte de
Charmes, whose daughter, Angele, he was to marry.
At first he was like an emotional girl. He rushed into the room, and
would have embraced me had I not prevented him, while he loaded me with
thanks and praise for having helped him to get free from his uncle by
not declaring myself; while, with all this, he was profuse and gushingly
voluble with his apologies.
He acted like an hysterical fool, bubbling over with silly laughter one
moment and shedding equally silly tears the next. He was ridiculously
light-spirited and happy, until his fantastic hilarity angered me. He
appeared to think that, as he had become a Frenchman, he ought to behave
as a sort of feather-headed clown.
His one consuming wish was that I should see Angele--the girl was the
one object in his mental outlook at that moment, and everything else was
all out of perspective.
It was a long time before I could make him understand that a much more
serious matter than his love-farce had brought me to Charmes; and even
while I compelled him to listen to the position of affairs at the
castle, and the plight of his cousin there, I could see that his
thoughts were away out of the room with his Angele.
"I am sorry for her, poor soul. I am sure I would have every one happy
at a time like this. But I suppose it will be all settled somehow and
some day," he said at the close, in a tone which made me fully realize
that he considered it no business of his.
"There is a train that starts from Charmes in an hour and a half," said
I, thinking it best to assume that he would go back with me. "We can
catch by that a fairly good connection at Strasburg, and can reach the
castle to-morrow."
"You are going back, then?" he queried.
"I think I can be of help to you."
"How can you help me if you are going there?"
"You will wish, of course, to hasten to the castle to save the honor of
your family and of your cousin?"
"My family is here. My home is France. I am no longer a German. I have
made the declaration to become naturalized. Do you think I would leave
Angele on almost the eve of my wedding-day? To-morrow we shall be man
and wife. Shall I instead, then, go to look after the affairs of a dead
old man who never worried himself the paring of a nail about me until he
thought I could be of use to him? What do you suppose Angele's father
would say? Pouf! I can hear him. 'Very well, monsieur, go away. Attend
to these people--these Germans--leave my daughter. Show yourself more
German than French, and give the lie to your protestations. Pretend to
become a Frenchman one moment and the next recognize the claim of your
Fatherland and your German blood and kinship. Go, by all means, but do
not return. Never set eyes on Angele again!' Eh, do you think I could do
that?" and he threw up his hands, shoulders, and eyebrows in a perfect
ecstasy of repudiation of the mere idea.
"A helpless young girl, your only kin in the world, is waiting there
dependent upon your assistance. You are now the head of that great
family whose honor and future are now threatened; and the entire
fortunes of your noble house are at a crisis which make it imperative
in all honor that you should assume the responsibilities of the
position."
"And is there not a helpless girl here who will be dependent upon me? Am
I not here taking the headship of a noble family? With this
difference--that here I was not forgotten and ignored until I became
necessary as a prop for a tottering wall. Would honor, think you, have
nothing to say against my desertion of this family in the way you
suggest? No, no, my friend; these people have appealed to your
sentimental side. My place is here, and here I stop."
From that resolve no pleas, reproaches, arguments, or goads could move
him. Nothing should make him budge from Angele; and he viewed everything
from that one new standpoint.
"If you are eager to free my family from the mess their affairs have got
into, take my place, go back and do it. You may claim by right all there
is to be got; for certainly I could not help if I would. If he who was
all his life at this work could not keep his house from falling, his son
from being killed, and his daughter from danger, what can I hope to
do?--I, a student, who have lived three-quarters of my life in France,
who loathe a military life, and know absolutely nothing of the
intricacies of diplomatic intrigue? You say you could help me? I don't
know how; but if you could, what is the gain for me? My uncle is dead
and leaves me nothing but a mess of intrigue and danger. My cousin is
engaged and therefore will marry--and what is her husband to me?"
"Surely you are not dead to the demands of honor?" I cried; but against
the wall of his selfishness the sea would have broken itself in vain.
"How do I serve my honor by forsaking Angele? No, no. I tell you I have
ceased to be a German; I have renounced my family, and shall live under
a new name. I am a student. This is work for men like you. Go and do it.
I am rendering that girl a far greater service by sending you than by
going myself."
It was useless to argue with him. He was hopelessly callous; and I sat
biting my lips in anxious thought.
"When they know I have become a Frenchman, do you think they will accept
help at my hands? Will they welcome my French wife, or my new family?
Should I wreck my own happiness to enable them to insult me, and all
that are now dear to me? Am I a fool? I will do what I can, but not
that. If my cousin should need a home, she shall have as comfortable a
one as my means will provide. But they must not claim me as one of their
own kin. That is all."
"They are not likely to make any claim of the kind on you," I said. And
the bitter contempt I felt for him came out in my tone.
He winced and flushed, and for a moment was stung to anger; but it
passed.
"You think poorly of me because I have decided matters thus. As you
will. We shall not meet again. Probably I shall never again cross the
frontier. To show you my decision is no mere whim, but a deliberately
chosen course, here I have a duly drawn up declaration renouncing my
heirship. I drew it, of course, before I knew of the Prince's death, and
I declined absolutely his proposals, and announced my intention to
change my name and become a Frenchman. I was going to have this attested
before a notary, and then send it to my uncle; but you can take it as it
is, if you like. I will make a sworn declaration at any time it is
desired. Do just what you will. And this I swear to you: I will never
breathe a word of what has passed unless you wish me to speak. I owe you
that for having brought you into the mess."
I took the paper and rose to leave.
"I will take means to let you know what is done. Here, I suppose?"
I spoke curtly, for I felt strongly.
"I do not wish to hear anything. A letter here will find me, of course,
but my name for the future will be Henri Frombe--Hans von Fromberg will
have ceased to exist, unless you are he." So indifferent was he to the
critical seriousness of the affair that he laughed as he said this, and
added: "After all, then, you will not see Angele. I am grieved at that,"
and he held out his hand.
"I cannot take your hand, M. Frombe," I said sternly. "I remain a
German. Your desertion of your family at such a juncture of need makes
any friendly feeling toward you impossible on my part. You hold that any
man can lightly renounce his family and country. I do not. I take the
strongest view of your conduct. France profits little by her newest
citizen, and the Fatherland gains by the loss of so self-satisfied a
renegade. I trust that we shall not meet again."
He was a coward, and shrank and paled under the lash of my words; but he
made no attempt to resent them, and I left him with a feeling of bitter
contempt and disgust at his conduct.
During the whole of my long journey back to the castle I sat absorbed in
close thought, mapping out my plans, recalling old memories, and rousing
my wits and energies for the task which Fate had set me, and from which
apparently I could not break away.
CHAPTER V
THE SCENT OF TREACHERY
When I reached the castle, Captain von Krugen met me with several
stories about steps which von Nauheim had taken to contest my authority.
Orders I had given had been countermanded, and several arrangements
changed. These things were small in themselves, but as his object was
evidently to fight my influence and dispute my authority, I deemed it
best to put my foot down at once.
I sent for all to whom the contradictory instructions had been given,
and then requested von Nauheim's presence. At first he would not come,
and then I sent the captain to tell him exactly what I meant to do, and
that if he did not come every man and woman in the place would be warned
to take no orders from him under pain of instant dismissal. Von Krugen
carried the message with glee, and it roused the count to such anger
that he came at once in a fury. Without giving him time to speak, I
said:
"I sent for you, Count von Nauheim, because these good people here are
in some difficulty as to where they are to look for orders. Will you
explain to them that, although the Prince has left his fortune to his
daughter, the castle passes to me with the headship of the house, and
that, as at times like these there can be only one master, they must
take their orders from me, and that where any instructions clash with
mine they must be referred to me?"
He eyed me angrily, but could not dispute what I implied.
"I am no mouthpiece for you," he answered sullenly. "I have been
accustomed to control matters here, for an obvious reason known to every
one, that I have the honor to be the Countess Minna's affianced husband.
What object, then, have you for any change?"
"Will you tell them what I have said, or will you compel me to issue
peremptory orders, and cancel openly what you have done?" I asked in a
quick, resolute tone, but low enough to be heard only by him.
"If you dare to humiliate me in that way----" he began.
"Quick, decide," I interposed sharply. "There can't be two masters
here."
He hesitated, glancing first at and then away from me, while I kept my
eyes fixed steadily on his face.
"Quick," I repeated sternly.
"Curse you, I'll make you pay for this!" he swore under his breath, with
a vicious scowl. Then aloud, "Of course you people will understand that
for the moment the present Prince here is your master," and with a wave
of the hand he indicated me. He did it as ungraciously as he dared, and
as soon as he had finished he left the room.
The effect of the incident was twofold--it strengthened my authority in
the castle, and it made it more difficult than ever for me to draw back.
But I had no thought now of doing that. I felt that I had cut off my
retreat; and that, although I would much rather have told the Countess
Minna exactly what my position was, any such candor was for the moment
at least quite out of the question.
Of the girl herself I saw nothing during the next few days, and I passed
the time absorbing all the information I could get, and trying to form a
plan of campaign.
I guessed that nothing would be done by the agents of the Ostenburg
family until a sufficient time had elapsed after the Prince's funeral to
make it plain what we intended to do; and I judged that their next move
would be determined by our own acts.
The funeral took place and directly afterward von Nauheim left the
castle without acquainting me with his plans; and for four or five days
following the Countess Minna gave no sign of a desire to see me. I began
to grow impatient. I had no wish to force myself on her or into her
confidence, but it was imperative that I should at least learn her
wishes both in regard to von Nauheim and the big scheme of which her
marriage was a part. In the mean time von Krugen was urging me to come
to a decision to strike a blow to show our friends in Munich that we
were going on with the matter.
I had come to the conclusion, however, that there was no chance whatever
of carrying through any such plot as the old Prince had attempted. If it
had ever been practicable to carry it out successfully, the chance had
passed when the son, Gustav, had been killed. Up to that time there had,
indeed, been a pretty widespread sympathy with the movement; and if a
bold coup had been made, the lunatic King kidnapped, the young fellow
proclaimed, and the Prince's power, shrewdness, and enormous influence
thrown into the scales, it was possible that enough strength might have
been paraded in the country to force the hands of the Imperial
Government. But with the death of the son went half the support; and now
with the death of the Prince I judged that more than half the remainder
would go. It seemed to me, therefore, a sheer impossibility to carry
such a scheme through successfully. The utmost I could hope to achieve
would be to make such terms as should secure the safety of the Countess
Minna, as well as of those who had been concerned in the plot thus far.
Obviously they were compromised up to the hilt; and the manner in which
Gustav's death had been compassed showed that among the Ostenburg
interest there were men of great daring and recklessness ready to go to
any length in defence of their own. They were on the winning side now,
moreover, and I deemed it certain that to whatever lengths they might go
they were pretty certain to secure the covert sanction of the
authorities at Berlin. Berlin would side with the successful, I
reckoned. Thus the more closely I probed the situation the less I liked
it.
But in these desperate circumstances, where each man who took a part was
playing with his life, what was a coward like von Nauheim doing? Even if
he was angling to get possession of the wealth which would be the
portion of the countess, he was not the man to run his neck into a
noose: and whoever married the Countess Minna would inevitably have as
part of that dowry the implacable enmity of her enemies.
What, then, ought I to do? My instincts were all in favor of striking
some kind of blow, and of being the attacker instead of waiting to be
attacked. We appeared to be in danger of being squeezed out of
existence. Our supporters were falling away, our position growing
weaker, and our resources becoming feebler the longer we waited. If we
could only effect some little thing, it seemed that we should be in a
better position to negotiate than if we merely did nothing. But what
could we do?
There was another serious danger in delay, moreover, arising out of the
consummate uncertainty of my own position. It was one thing to be
mistaken for the rightful heir to the Prince, but quite another to
attempt to make good that claim legally; and I soon had a sharp reminder
of this.
The old lawyer who had acted for the Prince came to me a few days after
the funeral for his instructions. I expressed in a general way what I
wished, and then he said:
"There are certain of the estates which have always gone with the title,
and should go now. It would be possible to make a claim to them against
the actual provisions of the will."
He put it suggestively.
"I shall make no claim," I answered. "I do not for a moment intend to
interfere with the Prince's disposition of matters."
"But he would have wished you to have them, I know. Indeed, I have
letters from him to that effect."
"I shall not interfere with the will," I returned, rather abruptly.
"They are very rich estates."
"That makes no difference to me."
"The cost of maintaining the dignity of your Highness's title and
position will be very heavy, and without them scarcely practicable."
"I have my private fortune, and that will and must suffice."
"Indeed!" he exclaimed in surprise. "I thought I knew to a mark the
extent of your mother's small income. It is derived almost entirely from
the Graffenheim property; and I understand that within the last few days
you have ordered it to be sold. Do you not intend your affairs to remain
in my hands?"
Here was clearly a mess I had not foreseen. The real man was getting rid
of his German property when he turned Frenchman.
"You will certainly have my confidence, my dear sir," I said, in a
carefully courteous manner. "And of course my affairs will remain in
your hands. This, however, is only a very small thing, and I did not
know of my uncle's death when I put it in hand."
"The Prince was always desirous of purchasing that property, because, as
you know, it lies in the midst of the Gramberg estates. If you wish to
sell it I should advise the Countess Minna to purchase it."
"I shall not sell it to the Countess Minna," I said, at a loss how to
parry him. "I mean that probably I shall withdraw it from sale
altogether now."
He looked at me in such surprise that I saw he knew something which made
my reply ridiculous; but, being afraid to offend me, he said no more
about it, and answered:
"That is, of course, just as you will. Then should I get on with the
preparation of the papers of formal proof of your succession?"
"I don't know what is wanted," said I indifferently, though the man's
words had sprung a mine under my very feet.
"Mere formalities, of course; just tracing your descent. The
certificates of birth and such matters."
"Oh, yes; whatever is necessary you may prepare. Will it take long?"
His answer would tell me what time I should have for the whole business.
"No. A day or two--not more."
The reply filled me with consternation. I could not possibly make a
legal claim to what did not belong to me; and yet I must have
time--weeks, at least, and probably months. I let no sign of my feeling
show in my face, but sat impassively thoughtful. Then, as if debating a
point, I answered:
"You will have to create some delay in the matter. It is useless keeping
my confidence from you. This will of the Prince's leaves me nothing but
the castle, and that seems to have been about the only part of his
property that he had mortgaged; so that practically there is nothing.
Whether I shall accept the inheritance, therefore--and, of course, the
title with it--is a question I have yet to decide; and I must have as
long a time for that decision as possible; but, mark you, no one must
know of this but yourself. This is my first confidential commission to
you. Certain things might determine me at once; but marriages cannot be
arranged in a week. You understand? And I have no fancy for the life of
a man weighted with a big title and no means to support it properly."
He bowed as if in acquiescence, although this glaring contradiction of
what I had said only a minute before obviously perplexed and
disconcerted him.
"And now that you have my confidence," I said, laying great stress on
the word, "tell me how long can we postpone these formalities--or, in
other words, how long can I have to carry out my--my plan?" And I
smiled slightly, as though the plan were some such matrimonial one as I
had hinted at.
"A month, perhaps two months, without provoking much comment--of course,
provided there is no opposition," he replied cautiously.
"I will find a way to deal with any opposition," said I promptly. "And
now we understand one another."
With that I dismissed him. I saw the danger of this new development. The
least suspicion would inevitably cause inquiry; and the most superficial
inquiry would as inevitably bring the whole house of cards tumbling
about my ears. But I had certainly one month, and perhaps two; and I
must put the time to the best use I could.
The question of what that use should be was considerably influenced by
von Nauheim, who returned that night, and immediately sought an
interview with me. I noticed at once a marked change in his attitude.
"I want a confidential talk with you, Prince," he said; "and before we
begin I wish to say I am very sorry I made a bear of myself to you
before the funeral. But I was frightfully upset at the Prince's sudden
death. It seemed to me that all our plans were going to the devil, and
it was impossible for a man who had had only a student's career like
yours to be of any use in such a case as ours. I own that I tried to
frighten you into leaving here without going into matters; and then it
was I saw what a different kind of man you were. But I was too wild to
own it."
"And what has changed you since?"
"I've been in Munich in conference with our friends there to ascertain
what effect the Prince's death will have."
"Well?"
"Von Krugen tells me you know everything, and the long and short of it
is that if you'll join us we shall all be only too glad to have your
help. I need scarcely tell you that those who stand by us now will reap
the harvest when we've succeeded. It's deuced hard on you to have the
whole of the Prince's fortune left away to Minna. Once this thing gets
through she won't want it, of course; and it'll be my business to see
that the Gramberg estates go with the title. I give you my word on
that."
The man was lying, of course; but it wouldn't do to show that I knew it.
"I don't think the terms are high enough," said I quietly, as if
weighing them. "The risk is enormous."
"It might be if we were not certain of success."
"And we certainly are not."
"Why, what can stand in the way? The feeling against the King grows
every day. What do you think is his last freak? Another confounded
palace, and this time underground. It will cost millions of
marks--millions. Do you suppose the people are going to put up forever
with this sort of thing? It has only just leaked out in Munich; and I
tell you, man, the whole country will take fire and clamor for his
deposition. There never was such a chance, and never will be such
another."
There was a ring of sincerity in this indignation quite foreign to his
usual manner, and I could not understand it.
"And what is your plan?" I asked.
"To strike--and strike at once," he cried loudly, dashing his fist down
on the table, "while Munich is mad with anger."
It was plausible enough, but I knew the man for a scoundrel.
"And my cousin--what does she say?" I asked.
"She can have no choice," he returned readily. "She must leave these
things to us. She has a kind of reluctance, I know, and her heart has
never been really in the work. But she is pledged to the finger-tips and
can't draw back--at least without betraying the lot of us, as well as
ruining herself. Sometimes I wish, indeed, that she had more spirit. Had
I known she felt so strongly I should never have gone in so deep
myself."
"Before I decide anything I must know her wishes," I said.
"Her wishes will be ours--if we make her understand that the alternative
will be the ruin of all who have taken up her cause, and probably the
death of every man here. Of course you'll force this home upon her?"
"It must first be forced home on me," said I.
"You know von Krugen's views," he urged.
He was showing too much earnestness now, and his whole manner was
suggestive of a secret purpose. What it was I could not guess, of
course; but no one could fail to read it in his manner.
"Yes, I know von Krugen's views; but I am accustomed to form my own
opinions and to act on my own judgment."
"If you will come with me to Munich, I will give you plenty of facts to
convince you."
He spoke with an assumption of lightness in his tone, and accompanied
the words with a shrug of the shoulders, as of indifference. But the man
was as easy to read as a book in some respects. I saw instantly that he
had approached one of the chief points at which he had been aiming.
"Of course I will go with you to Munich," I answered readily; and a
momentary flash of pleasure in his eyes gave me the clew I needed. It
was at Munich that Minna's brother had been inveigled into the duel and
killed, and this man had come back from there with some such plan
against myself. My death would leave the girl absolutely without a
friend in the world.
The game was indeed becoming engrossing in its interests; and at that
moment I began to see the course I would take to cut the coils which
threatened her.
"Before I go," I added, after a pause that was scarcely perceptible for
all the revelation that had come to me in it, "I will see my cousin, and
hear from her lips what she wishes."
"We will see her at once," he answered instantly.
"With your permission, I will see her alone."
"That is rather a strange request, Prince," he returned in a tone of
surprise, "considering she is my promised wife. What reason have you for
making it?"
"I wish her to speak freely to me, unfettered by either you or von
Krugen's insistent persuasions. She will speak more freely alone, and,
as head of the house, I choose my own steps."
"I see no reason for it," he replied sharply. "Do you suggest I
intimidate her?"
"I suggest nothing," I returned quietly. "I get my information in my own
way, that is all. If you object to my doing that, I decline to get it in
yours. My visit to Munich can stand over meanwhile."
"But things can't wait; this business must be done at once."
"Then the short cut to it must be as I prefer to direct."
The mask nearly fell from him. He bit his lips, and I saw the anger rush
to his eyes and face; but he checked it, and, though he had to fight
hard to keep from breaking out, he answered sufficiently calmly:
"Oh, if you set so much store by it as all that, certainly see her
alone. You will find out no more than I have said."
But I had a different opinion; and I sent up a message at once to the
Countess Minna to ask for an interview immediately.
"And when shall we start for Munich?" I asked when the messenger had
gone. "To-morrow?"
"The sooner the better," he replied; and again I caught a fleeting,
stealthy glint of pleasure in his eyes.
CHAPTER VI
MY "COUSIN"
My short conversation with von Nauheim, the sudden change in his
attitude toward me, and the slight indications of his real feelings
which I had observed did more than anything which had yet occurred to
impress me with the deadly seriousness of the task I had undertaken. I
was convinced that as the result of this visit to Munich some fresh
development of treachery had been planned, and that he was closely
concerned as either principal or tool. Fortunately for me he was a poor
diplomatist, and as my former knowledge of him gave me a sufficient clew
to his real character, he could not so dissemble his manner as to
mislead me. Without that clew he might have tricked me, of course, as he
had tricked, others. Apparently his interests lay entirely in carrying
forward the plot to place the girl he was to marry on the throne. He
would certainly secure her fortune, while as her consort he would enjoy
a position of magnificent power, infinitely alluring to a man of his
nature. Moreover, he was the chosen representative of one of the most
influential sections of Bavarian society, whose power must be an
enormous factor in any struggle.
Then I had been a good deal impressed by his momentary flash of
sincerity when he had been speaking of the King's mad excesses. He was
then expressing a sincere opinion, I was sure, though whether his own
or inspired by others for whom he was acting I could not say. But the
thought kept recurring to me with ever-increasing suggestiveness.
The key to his conduct lay, I was convinced, in Munich--and to Munich I
would go at any risk. That there would be risk a child could see; and
the nature of it would depend on the character of this man's treachery,
the people with whom he was co-operating, and the length they were
prepared to go in silencing me.
I regarded it as quite possible that I should not return. If, as was
supposed, the death of the Count Gustav had been deliberately planned, I
might take it for granted that I should be pursued with almost equal
hostility. This I had read plainly in the man's manner, and it prepared
me to believe that he himself in some way had been connected with
Gustav's murder.
But there was another very serious consideration. If I was put out of
the way and no one at the castle had proof of von Nauheim's treachery,
what would be Minna's position? Obviously it must at once become one of
consummate peril. Ought I to go away, therefore, without warning her of
the man's true character, and without arranging some definite plan of
action? Yet how was I to warn her without telling her what I knew and
how I knew it--in other words, unless I took her into my confidence as
to who I was?
It will be easily understood how these thoughts perplexed me as I made
my way up the broad stairway of the castle to the room where she was to
receive me, and how infinitely the embarrassment was magnified by the
unwonted emotions which her presence now, as formerly, roused in my
breast.
She greeted me with sweet cordiality, and the eyes, which had an
indescribable fascination for me, wore now an expression of almost
anxious alarm as their gaze rested on my very grave face. The Baroness
Gratz was with her, a circumstance which made me unwilling to speak
plainly and added to my embarrassment.
I inquired after the health of the two and uttered one or two
commonplaces, when Minna, after a pause, during which she had most
attentively studied my looks, exclaimed:
"You have not come only to say these things, cousin. Your face tells me
plainly enough there is something urgent."
"That is true. I have much to say that concerns you very closely."
She was very quick and understood me.
"You wish to speak to me alone. I am sure you will not object, aunt, if
my cousin and I speak together in the window there"--and she rose and
walked toward a large bay window at the far end of the room, and
motioned to me to sit beside her.
The old baroness looked surprised and a little indignant. It was no
occasion to stand on trifles, but I did not wish to offend her at a time
when her help might be urgently needed--perhaps within a few hours; so I
made a low deferential bow and said:
"You will understand this rather unusual step, baroness, when I tell you
that I have already declined to hold this interview with my cousin even
in the presence of the Count von Nauheim, and that my object is merely
to have direct from my cousin's lips alone her wishes and intentions as
to the future."
"I understand, Prince," she replied, with her stately bow; but I thought
I could detect some symptoms of alarm. Whether this was merely awe of
me, or the evidence of some other hidden fear, I could not decide. But
the whole atmosphere of the palace reeked so foully with intrigue that I
did not know whether she was true or in von Nauheim's plot.
As I took my seat by Minna's side she welcomed me with a little smile,
which, sad and wan though it was, seemed like a little messenger of
confidence. Then she put a hand on my arm and said wistfully:
"You will treat me quite frankly, cousin? I have been relying on that so
strongly."
"As frankly as I can, but remember very little yet. Moreover, it is your
frankness that is to be tested. Do you think you can trust me
sufficiently to do as you said when I saw you last--tell me the whole of
your wishes unreservedly?"
"Certainly I will," she replied instantly. "I have been waiting to do so
ever since the day of my dear father's funeral."
"I understood that I was to await some sign from you. You said as much,"
I reminded her.
"True; but your message to me, that you would seek an interview as soon
as practicable, has kept me waiting till now. I have been impatient; but
it does not matter now," she ended, with a smile.
"Who gave you my message?" I asked. I had sent none, of course, but
guessed that it was a ruse of von Nauheim's to keep us apart while he
was away in Munich.
"The count himself," answered the girl in some astonishment, and with a
look of quick suspicion. "Did you not send any?"
"There has been some misunderstanding," I said quietly. "But I was
waiting to hear from you, and I was to the full as impatient as you
could have been."
She cast her eyes down and frowned, and her little foot tapped quickly
on the floor.
"It must be as you say--he misunderstood you--or else he was afraid of
my speaking plainly to you while he was away." The first sentence was
spoken with hesitation, the second quickly and with a touch of
indignation, and directly afterward her pulse quickened and she said
volubly: "Cousin Hans, I can tell you what I dared not tell my father. I
am afraid of the count. You have asked me what I wish. I have two
wishes--to be released from this marriage, and to stop all this hateful
intrigue for the throne. I am not fit for it. I do not wish it. I am
only afraid and harassed and distracted. Oh, I long with a regret I
cannot put in words for the days of quiet and peace when none of this
was ever thought of! Then I had not a care or grief, and now life is all
fear and sorrow. I am the most miserable girl on earth."
She lifted her hands and let them fall again on her lap with a gesture
eloquent of despair, and now that the momentary excitement had passed
her voice grew heavy with the accents of sorrow.
I was silent, not quite knowing how to meet such an outburst of grief
and confidence.
More than that, however: I had heard with a rush of joy, which I dared
not let her see, the outcry against the marriage. At that moment the
feeling seemed to me like a guilty one, but I vowed to myself that if it
cost me every drop of blood in my body I would save her from it. But I
sat now grave, silent, and thoughtful, while the little pathetic glances
of appeal for help which she cast at me shot right into my heart and
thrilled me till I could scarcely hold myself under restraint.
When I did not reply--and I did not because I dared not trust
myself--she sighed deeply, and said in a tone even more despairing than
before:
"I suppose your silence means that you also are against me. Oh, this
ambition! What a curse it is! What has it not cost us? But for it my
brother would be alive to-day. My dear father was just as surely another
of its victims. I am forced to sacrifice all I care for on earth and to
wed a man whom I fear. And now you, fresh from a life of books, on whom
I built so much, are caught by the same madness, the fever burns in your
blood, and you join this mad hue-and-cry after ruin. Ambition--ah, my
father often rated me for my lack of it; but what has it brought to us
but death, and what does it promise but misery? Cousin Hans, I beseech
you with all my heart and soul do not join with those against me. Try to
see this with my eyes, and do not urge me. I know you will think me weak
and a child, a feeble, helpless coward; but I cannot go on. You are now
my only hope. Cousin, do say you will not side against me!"
As she spoke her hands clasped my arm as if clinging to me for help, and
she gazed into my face with such yearning appeal that had I been a
stone, or the stern, self-contained man I had tried to appear, I must
have been moved. And I was no stone where she was concerned.
"God forbid that I should force you," I said, my voice scarcely steady,
despite my efforts to control it. "Do not doubt that I am with you in
whatever you decide."
"Oh, thank God, thank God! How I have hoped it! Now I have a friend
indeed."
No words of mine can describe the radiant look that came on her face as
she cried this; and the smile she gave me lives in my memory as one of
the loveliest sights my eyes have ever beheld.
After this outburst of emotion we sat silent some minutes--she, in all
innocence of relief, keeping my hand between her own two; and I, on my
side, drinking in, until I was intoxicated, the sweetness of emotions
such as had never stirred my heart before.
I made the first movement--a slight attempt to withdraw my hand. She let
go, and then, with another smile of frank pleasure and trust, she said:
"Not only my cousin, but my friend."
"There is yet much to do," I said gently.
"But we shall do it together. I am no longer alone with all against me,
even my dear father. Tell me what is first to be done. I know that you
will be successful, for you have given me hope. Will you tell the Count
von Nauheim that the marriage project is at an end, or shall I? I will,
if you wish, though I have been afraid of him; but no longer, for you
are on my side."
Sweet as these renewed protestations of trust were to my ears and
senses, they were not without embarrassment.
"If you trust me, you will have to do so wholly," I said; "and you must
do as I wish, even if it is altogether distasteful to you."
"I will do whatever you tell me," she assented readily.
"Then in the first place we must act as if this conversation had altered
nothing."
"Do you mean...?" she began, with a frown of repugnance, and then
stopped.
"I mean that for the present your relations with the count must remain
as they have been. Do not ask all my reasons. But for the present it is
necessary that no one, you understand, no one shall have any thought
that we are not going on with your father's scheme." I told her then of
von Nauheim's visit to Munich and its result, and that before we settled
anything we must know more. "I should be deceiving you," I added, "if I
did not tell you that grave risks have yet to be run in this matter, and
the danger to some of us may prove greater than we can avert. I cannot
tell you all my thoughts, but I am going to Munich----"
"Ah, no, not there, cousin. That is where Gustav was killed."
"They will not kill me," I answered, smiling to reassure her. "It is
essential for me to go that I may probe certain matters to the bottom.
Then I shall know better what to do for the best."
"You will never come back. They will not let you," she wailed, wringing
her hands.
"We are not children to foster silly fears," I said. "Of course there
are risks in going, but there is certain failure if I do not go. And I
go forewarned, with your brother's fate to caution me to be wary, and
with the knowledge that you depend upon me to rouse my wits. Do not
fear. I shall return and bring with me a plan of action. But if by any
chance I should not, you will know there is danger for you. I shall
leave Captain von Krugen here, and if on any day he does not hear from
me, that very day you and the Baroness Gratz must leave the castle under
his care, cross the French frontier, and fly to Paris. I shall leave
full directions as to this with von Krugen. From Paris your cause can be
best fought. But above all things be careful not to let your whereabouts
be known to any one except the captain. He will know from me how to
act."
She sat trembling and agitated.
"Why not say at once that the marriage has been broken off, that the
plot is abandoned, and cross the frontier immediately?"
"Because I hope to win our way to a far different ending than exile.
That is well enough as a last resource of a helpless woman; but these
men will find me--well, I will utter no big words till I know more and
have done something. I am looking for a stroke of double cunning
somewhere, and I do not expect to look in vain. In my view you are safe
so long as these men believe we have no suspicion of them; but their
attitude toward you may change at any moment. And now remember that even
von Krugen, honest and stanch as I believe him, must know nothing of our
abandonment of the plot on which he has set his hopes. I am compelled to
mislead even him, and the secret must be yours and mine--ours only. You
promise?"
"From the bottom of my heart," she answered earnestly, putting her hand
into mine. "When shall I see you again?" she asked suddenly. "I can be
brave when you are with me, and I will try not to play the coward in
your absence. But"--with a sigh--"I have no friend but you."
"Yes, you have a stanch and brave friend in Captain von Krugen," I
answered, "and I shall be back within a few days."
I spoke cheeringly and as though with absolute conviction.
"You have opened a new gate of hope for me, cousin," she said as I rose
from beside her. "But the thought of your leaving me is almost like
shutting it again."
"It shall never be shut, if I can help it, until you have passed through
to a safe and happy life."
I spoke earnestly as I felt, and with that I left her.
I had much to do before I could set out on my journey, and one matter
especially troubled me. I must stop von Fromberg from selling the
property of which the old lawyer had spoken to me, and I was at a loss
how to communicate with him. To send a letter through the post I dared
not; to go to him myself was impossible; yet whom could I trust to carry
a letter or message? If the sale were not stopped, suspicion would
certainly be created; and after much consideration I resolved to word a
guarded letter addressed to Henri Frombe, and entrust it to Steinitz. I
had meant to take him with me to Munich lest I should need assistance,
but this other matter was more urgent.
I sent for him now and charged him on his honor to take the letter, and
himself to place it in M. Frombe's hands when no one else was present;
to ask no questions, and to answer none; but simply to bring back to me
direct to Munich the reply, and not to breathe a word to a soul about
the mission.
"My life may depend on your loyalty," I said when I gave him the packet,
"and probably also that of the Countess Minna, and most certainly the
whole future of our scheme," and I exacted a pledge of loyalty.
It was a risk, of course, but then risks were all about me, and I could
not avoid taking some. All I could hope to do was to manage to select
the smaller ones.
Then I had a close and, to a point, confidential conference with von
Krugen; and I explained clearly what he was to do in the event of
anything happening to me at Munich.
"If there is no treachery there will be no danger in this journey of
mine; but if there is, and I am only too sure of it, then we know that
those who are playing traitor will try to get rid of me in order to
render my cousin helpless and in their power. That you must prevent; and
her safety will rest almost solely with you."
"But the Count von Nauheim?" he asked in some surprise.
"You will trust no one but yourself, captain," I returned significantly.
"If I had proof that he was a traitor!" he growled.
"I am going to get proofs concerning everything. Unless this is all
genuine, our scheme is bound to be shipwrecked."
His face grew very dark and lowering.
"My place is by your side in Munich," he said.
"If I can find the traitors, you may share in their punishment; but
meanwhile your place is here in Gramberg to guard my cousin. And if you
should have even a thought of danger while I am away, call me back at
once. But if my calculations are correct there will be no immediate
danger for her."
"Your Highness will not reckon on me in vain. But I would to God I could
be with you there. You are taking your life in your hands, and ought not
to go alone."
"If there is that amount of danger, better I alone than you with me;
but I am well prepared, and shall not suffer things to reach that
pass"--and I repeated at great length and detail all that I wished him
to do in the event of his having to fly to Paris.
At the close of the interview he gave me a solemn pledge to carry out my
wishes, and showed many signs of loyal regard for myself, mingled with
genuine anxiety as to the issue of this journey to Munich. Then I sent
word to von Nauheim that I should be ready to start with him on the
following day, and I passed a sleepless, tossing night seeking to piece
together in a connected whole the fragments of the problem as I
possessed them, and to estimate the actual perils and risks of what I
knew must be an eventful journey.
CHAPTER VII
AT MUNICH
When we started for Munich it required very little observation to see
that von Nauheim was striving sedulously to conceal the fact that he
attached such critical importance to my accompanying him. Indeed, had I
had no prior knowledge of him, I think his demeanor would have roused my
suspicions.
"I suppose you will tell me what passed between you and Minna
yesterday," he said when we were in the train. "You've produced a
considerable change in her, for I found her much more willing to go on
with us than she was before."
"I gave her to understand that very much must depend on the result of
this journey. If I am satisfied that there is reason to hope for
success, it will be at least an impartial opinion--for at present I have
not much faith. And I suppose she attaches a great deal of importance to
that."
"Did you urge her not to throw us over? I presume you did."
"Why should I? I am not convinced myself."
"Well, here are signs enough of the popular indignation, at any rate,"
he said as he tossed me a morning paper with some very strong comments
on the lunatic King's acts.
"Discontent is one thing, rebellion another," I replied as I opened the
paper to read what he pointed out. I had no wish to talk, but to think,
and I made as though I were engrossed in the paper.
My companion took another journal and played at reading it; but I saw
him watching me every now and then, until the paper fell on his lap, and
he stared out of the window obviously buried in his thoughts. I knew the
tenor of them later when his face changed, and he turned to speak.
"You will stay with me, of course, Prince?" he said.
"Certainly," I replied readily, although half a hundred suspicions were
started of his probably sinister motive for the invitation.
"It will be so much more convenient for our purpose than your going to
the Gramberg town-house," he said. "I've been thinking of the best
course to take. What sort of proof do you wish to have that measures are
ripe?"
"An interview with those who are to carry them out, of course."
"That will be best; and fortunately most of them are in Munich. Then I
presume you will be prepared to do what all the rest of us have
done--take an oath of allegiance to the new Queen?"
"When I join you, I will do whatever the rest do."
"We are all pledged to the hilt. Every man of us has made the oath and
signed a declaration to uphold the good cause."
"Signed a declaration? That seems a strong step," I said, though all
forms were pretty much the same thing to me.
"But a necessary one. There is no drawing back then," he answered.
"Well, I will sign what I see others sign and do what others do," I
replied firmly. "But, understand, I must see these things done before my
eyes." I said this because of an idea that flashed into my thoughts at
that moment.
"You are disposed to be cautious to the verge of timidity, eh?" he
sneered.
"I am resolved to satisfy myself," I returned; and for a reason that I
kept to myself I rather liked the idea of what he had said.
After a pause he continued:
"Roughly, what I propose is this: I will take you round to introduce you
to the more prominent men--in particular to Baron Heckscher, who is
really the leader of us; and then we will have a meeting at my rooms,
where everything can be explained and settled. What say you?"
"I agree; but of course I reserve my right to take any other step I may
think necessary that suggests itself to me."
"Naturally, naturally!" he exclaimed. "Now that the Prince has gone we
are only too glad to have a cautious, calculating head to take his
part."
The words were as false as the man. I read it in his tone and manner;
and he was far more ready to curse me, had he dared, for my profession
of caution. But I pressed it, because I knew that this exaggerated
carefulness was the best evidence of my seeming sincerity.
A long silence followed, during which I weighed carefully all he had
said. His manner in speaking of these details was tinged by a singular
nervousness; he blurted out his points like a man who has been given a
task which has overweighted him. And he suggested to me the condition of
a poor actor who has had his part drilled into him by a subtler hand,
and says his lesson badly.
Presently he began again:
"Of course you'll understand we are all putting ourselves into your
hands and in your power in this matter; and the more so with every
additional step we take." He was coming to another point in his lesson,
I thought. "You will give me your solemn pledge not to divulge a single
name you hear, nor a single fact that is told to you. If you'll do that
now, I'll give you an outline of our plans at once."
"You can tell me as much or as little as you please. I pledge my honor
to use nothing, except as the interest of my cousin may require--and
that, I presume, is the intention of all concerned."
He frowned and bit his lips and thought a moment.
"Of course that's the intention; what else could it be?"
"Then if you want me to join you you must trust me; otherwise I may as
well go back to Gramberg at once. But, of course, my return will be the
signal for throwing the whole thing up at once. It is for you to
choose."
"I had better tell you," he said after another pause. "Things are nearly
ripe; almost as forward as when that hot-headed fellow Gustav wrecked
everything by losing his temper and getting involved in that duel. We
have resolved to take up the Prince's scheme pretty much where it was
dropped. In a fortnight's time there will be an excellent time for
striking the final blow. We have friends in all the public offices;
several of the Ministers themselves are ready to welcome the change; the
whole bodyguard of the King at the palace is practically composed of our
men; and everything promises success. The King will be at the palace,
and we have arranged that a great fancy-dress ball shall be given on a
certain night. His lunatic Majesty is, as perhaps you know, rather
madder on that subject than on any other; and he delights in dressing
himself up in half a dozen different costumes in the course of a single
night to perplex, as he thinks, all who are present, and get at the real
sentiments of his people about him. But his attendants always arrange
that his costume shall bear a certain mark by which he will be known. In
this way the ass of a King is fooled to the top of his bent, and instead
of hearing genuine opinions about himself hears only those which are
carefully tuned for his ears. Well, our scheme is to have this royal
mark worn by some one who is not the King; to have the King himself
seized and placed under restraint; to let Minna be at hand at the ball,
and as soon as it is known that the King has gone to proclaim her there
and then."
"An ingenious scheme, so far as the easy part of abducting the King is
concerned," I replied. "But the difficulties only begin when he is out
of the way. What are you going to do with him--kill him?"
"No, there will be no bloodshed. There is no need. The whole country is
ready for the abdication; nine-tenths of the best men are on our
side--and the other tenth will come in; and to give the thing
plausibility we are going to have a sort of drama at the ball, in which
the King--the sham one, of course--will announce his abdication and
appoint his successor--Minna. That act of abdication will be written,
and on examination will be found to be actually in the handwriting of
the King himself. The whole scene will be described to the country as an
actual occurrence; and this will be on the authority of the foremost
men in Bavaria--a sort of informal Council of State. It will be a
definite and formal abdication. That of itself will silence opposition
and carry the people, who are, indeed, only too eager to need much
argument."
"And the King himself?"
"He will simply be put where he ought to have been long enough
ago--under restraint."
It was a clever plot, and, given the power behind those carrying it out,
as likely to be successful as any that human wit could have devised.
"But what of the Ostenburg interest?" I rapped out the question sharply,
with a keen, quick glance, and for a moment it seemed to disconcert him
slightly.
"We do not put their power very high," he said then. "They think our
chances ended with Gustav's death, and that, now the old Prince has
gone, there is no one to carry the thing a step farther. But we must, of
course, lose no time, and must strike before they even think we are
contemplating any action at all. We shall catch them utterly unprepared;
and, in a thing of this kind, to be unprepared is to lose."
"Do you mean you think they will surrender their claim to the throne
without a struggle of any sort?"
"No; but they can do nothing when once we are in possession."
"But the Imperial authorities at Berlin, man?"
"The one consideration there is the _de facto_ argument. Let us get
possession, backed by formal abdication and the actual document
appointing Minna to the succession, and Berlin may do what it likes.
They will think twice before risking a civil war in the country to
maintain the rights of a lunatic. At least so longer heads than mine
hold, and I agree with them."
"Well, I shall see," and I was bound to confess to myself that, if
everything was genuine, the inference he drew was right. I knew enough
of the sort of argument that weighs at Berlin to be sure of this.
But was it genuine? If not, where was the flaw? And all the rest of the
journey I sat pondering this part of the problem, and reviewing again
and again all he had said.
I was much impressed by it.
Two points in particular stood out boldly in my thoughts: If this plot
could be carried through--and I was half inclined to believe it
possible--Minna could make far better terms, if she still wished to
recede, when success had been attained than she could at present. If
there were at the back of the scheme all this influence of which von
Nauheim had spoken, it would be a dangerous thing for her to throw over
those who had supported her without securing, at least, their safety as
well as her own. That would be dishonorable and cowardly, and I knew she
would not consent to such a course. If these representations were
correct, therefore, I began to fear that Minna had been too far pledged
to be able to draw back at this juncture. We must go forward until the
best terms could be made.
But against this I knew that the man who was giving me the information
was as false as hell itself; and, even while I sat meditating and
brooding over what he had said, I caught the swift, searching, cunning
glances which he darted every now and then at me as if to see how far he
had fooled me.
It was in this mood of fresh doubt that I arrived at Munich, and drove
with him to his rooms. The sumptuous comfort and costly appointments of
these surprised me. When I had known him years before, he had had but
scanty means, and his family were comparatively poor. Yet these rooms of
his were fit for a man of the largest fortune. Even this circumstance
added to my suspicions. If he was a traitor, he was being well paid for
his treachery.
The journey with me in the train and the fact that he was now in his own
house seemed to put him more at his ease.
"I shall have to leave you for a considerable time, Prince, while I
prepare our friends for your visits," he said; "but you will of course
consider this quite as your own house. This evening, or probably
to-morrow, we can get to work. In the mean time, if you do not already
know Munich, you will find no lack of interesting sights."
For the rest of that day I was left to my own devices, and we did not
meet until late in the evening, when he told me his plans for the next
day, and that he had arranged for a round of interviews with the leading
men on our side.
The result of them was only to increase my perplexity. Wherever I went I
was welcomed cordially, my co-operation requested, my caution approved,
and the most complete assurances given to me on all points. Had the
success of the scheme depended entirely upon my joining in it, I could
not have been more warmly welcomed.
I could not understand it in the least. Every question I asked was
answered, as it seemed, quite fully and frankly; and every investigation
I made only convinced me that the ramifications of the plot were vastly
wider than I imagined, and that the prospects of success were enough to
force me to believe in it.
And yet I could not shake off my suspicions. I could find no ground for
them other than my knowledge of von Nauheim. There was nothing but that
to warrant them. But the more closely I watched him the more uneasy I
became, and the more convinced that he at least had some double motive.
I was in the position of a man who is being persuaded to a course he
dislikes against every prejudice and instinct of his nature, and despite
his earnest desire to trust his instinct. I did not wish to find the
affair genuine, but I could find no flaw anywhere, probe, search,
suspect, and investigate as I would.
At the end of the fourth day I could not deny they had a right to ask
for a definite decision for me to throw in my lot with them, and, while
I was dead against doing so, I could not suggest a single reason of
value and force for my opinion. The meeting to receive my decision was
fixed for the sixth evening, and I looked forward to it with
considerable apprehension.
The previous day I resolved to use for a purpose that was almost as
critical as the object of the visit to Munich. It was an inquiry that I
alone could make as to von Nauheim's past.
I knew that in the days when he had dealt his dastardly injury on my
family he had a wife, whom he had married secretly, living in Thuringia.
I was almost alone in the knowledge, which I had gained by accident, and
my purpose now was to ascertain if she was still alive.
Fortune favored my investigation. The wife was still in the town, living
in a humble way as a shop-keeper, and still ignorant of the real
position and character of her husband. I had no difficulty in finding
her, and using part of my knowledge of years before. I had some
conversation with her and her two children, eliciting the fact that she
had not seen von Nauheim for years, did not know whether he was alive or
dead, and did not care. She was earning her own living and educating her
children, and prayed only that she might be troubled by the man no more.
It was not my cue to stir muddy waters. All I needed was to know where
to put my hand upon her at any moment that it might be necessary to
spoil the scoundrel's schemes.
The villain meant to deceive Minna von Gramberg as he had deceived my
sister years before, and my thoughts about him were bitter and black and
wrathful as the train whirled me back through the summer night to
Munich. But I was jubilant too; for I held the knowledge that must
inevitably frustrate his scheme, and I resolved that I would use it at
the forthcoming meeting, if no other cause suggested itself, to refuse
to go forward any farther. It was, of course, an ample reason for such
refusal; and as I had the proofs so fresh in my hands, there was not a
man of honor in the affair who would not say I was doing right. But
events were to happen destined to change all this current of my
thoughts.
When I reached Munich it was late, but a mild, soft night, and I
loitered through the deserted streets on my way to von Nauheim's house,
enjoying the walk. I had to pass through one of the outlying parts of
the city, and I was walking very slowly, thinking and smoking, when I
was startled by a loud and sudden cry for help that came from some
distance ahead of me. I am a swift runner, and I set off at my fastest
pace, the cry, which was repeated, being my guide. I passed two or three
streets, crossed a broad, dark square, and then I heard the cry for the
third time, and with it the sound of men struggling and fighting, and
the clash of steel. I had no weapon with me save a stout oak stick; but
I gave no thought to my own danger as I rushed on, and set up an
answering shout to let it be known that I was at hand. As I reached the
other side of the square I came suddenly in full view of the
disturbance.
Four men, two armed with swords and two having knives, were attacking
one man, who, with his back to the wall, was fighting for his life like
a demon, parrying, lunging, and thrusting with amazing dexterity and
skill. He had been wounded, however, I could tell, and although he had
wounded more than one of his assailants, he was in a very fair way of
coming badly out of the fight.
Fired by the infernal cowardice of the four men in setting on one, I let
out an oath, and, grasping my stick with both hands, I clenched my
teeth, and rushed upon the villains from behind. I brought the heavy
knob of my stick down with crushing force upon the arm of the man
nearest me, making the arm drop nerveless by his side, and sending his
sword clattering down on the stones; and then I turned and smashed it
with all my force right into the face of a second man who made as if to
attack me. At the same instant he who had been assailed in the first
instance drove his sword through a third; and, seeing this unexpected
turn given to matters, the fourth ran away--an example which the rest
followed.
[Illustration: GRASPING MY STICK WITH BOTH HANDS, I CLENCHED MY TEETH,
AND RUSHED UPON THE VILLAINS FROM BEHIND.]
"You came in the nick of time, friend," said the man coolly, coming
toward me. "Another two minutes or so and these beasts would have
done----What! Heinrich Fischer!" he cried, in a tone of the greatest
astonishment, holding out his hand. "This is well met indeed."
I did not think so; for it was with something akin to dismay that I
recognized a French fencing-master, named Guion, with none too savory a
reputation, from whom, in the days of my play-acting, I had lessons in
stage fencing. I gave him my hand, but I could not make the clasp
cordial.
"How came you in this plight, M. Guion?"
He laughed.
"Guion? Was that my name then? French, I suppose. By the body of the
devil, I have such a lot of names and countries I can't remember them
all. But I only use one at a time, and now, my good sir, I am a
Corsican, and my name is Praga--Juan Praga, at your service, and not
ashamed to own that I owe you my life. But what's the matter with you?"
"Praga!" I cried. "So it's you, is it, who fought the young Count von
Gramberg and killed him?"
"Ho, and what in the name of the devil's skin do you know about that?
But it's true, and it's equally true that to-night's business is part of
the result. But, by the blood!"--and his face snarled like an angry
dog's--"I'll make them pay."
"I can help you to your revenge," I said impulsively. "Let's go where we
can be alone."
He stared at me as if in the greatest astonishment, then shrugged his
shoulders, laughed, swore copiously, and then laughed again and said:
"You? Well, you've saved my life, so it's only fair you should do what
you please with it. Come along with me."
And he led me away, vowing and protesting, by all the saints in and out
of the calendar, that all he had in the world, whether purse, sword, or
life itself, was at my absolute disposal.
CHAPTER VIII
PRAGA'S STORY
My thoughts as I walked with my devil-may-care companion to his rooms
were busy enough. How could I get out of him what he knew without
compromising myself, and how explain that I was no longer Heinrich
Fischer, the actor, but the Prince von Gramberg, without starting his
suspicions? My hasty exclamation that I could help him to his revenge
had been exceedingly foolish, and I was at a loss to know how far I
could trust him to keep any secret.
He took me to his rooms, and very comfortable quarters they were. I
noticed, too, that he was far better dressed than I had ever seen him in
Frankfort. He was a dark, swarthy, lean-faced, lithe fellow, and his
black eyes, keen and daring, noticed my look of questioning surprise,
and he laughed, showing his gleaming white teeth in the lamplight.
"Not the first time I owe my life to that little fellow," he said,
laying his sword-stick, an ordinary-looking stout malacca cane, on the
table. "A workman should never travel without his tools, remember that,
my friend. And so you are surprised to see me so comfortably placed, eh?
Well, I am a man of means, and live at my ease--at least I was. But
shall I tell you?"
"By all means," said I, throwing myself into a chair, anxious to get him
to talk freely.
"First let us drink; and I may thank the Holy Virgin and you--but
especially you, I think--that my throat is still sound enough to swallow
good liquor--the one thing in life the loss of which makes one think of
death regretfully."
And he tossed off a glass of wine.
"Are you wounded?" I asked.
"A scratch somewhere on my arm--may God blight the hand that dealt it!"
He changed in a moment from a light tone to one of vehement passion, and
then as quickly back again to one of cheery chatter. "If He doesn't, I
will; so that's settled. Let's see to the scratch, though." He took off
his coat, examined the hurt, and I bathed it and bound it up carefully.
"A mere nothing," he said, "for me, that is--not for him."
For a moment or two he moved about the room as if occupied, and then he
turned to me, and with a light laugh, but a piercing look from his dark,
glittering eyes, he asked:
"And now, tell me, who are you?"
"The Prince von Gramberg," I answered instantly.
I was, indeed, half prepared for the question, for I had been studying
him carefully. The answer pleased him.
"Good. You are not afraid to tell me the truth. But I knew it. You had
been pointed out to me here in Munich--pointed out, do you understand,
for a purpose. And I said to myself, the Prince von Gramberg and
Heinrich Fischer are the same person. Why? And when I could not answer
the question I thought to myself: I will wait. Here is a secret. It may
pay me to keep my tongue still. So you see I know you."
"You were going to tell me about yourself. That will interest me more
than your speculations as to my reasons for turning actor for a year or
two."
I spoke with an air of indifference.
"The canaille!" he exclaimed angrily, with a bitter scowl. "They were
sick of me. I know too much. I am dangerous. I will no longer do their
work; and so, by the fires of hell, they think to get rid of me! Wait,
wait, my masters, and you shall see what you have done." He threw his
right arm up, and clenched his fist with a most dramatic gesture. "It
was surely their evil genius sent you my way just now. Do you know how
near death you are at this moment?" he asked; "or you would be, if I had
taken up their cursed work."
"I shall know a great deal better if you will speak clearly," I replied,
not letting him see how his question surprised me.
"I will. I don't know whether you wish me to regard you as a Prince or
play-actor; but, whichever it is, you saved my life to-night, and if I
turn against you may I go to hell straightway."
"You can please yourself what you call me. I am the Prince von Gramberg
in fact, whatever I may have seemed formerly."
"And I am Juan Praga, the Corsican. Not French, or Italian, or German,
or any of the dozen different damned parts I have played; but Juan
Praga, the Corsican. I left Frankfort before you did--about eighteen
months ago--and I wandered about the country till my reputation as a
fencer, and my lack of it in other things, first set me up as a master
in Berlin, and then brought these devils to me. They approached me
slyly, stealthily, like cats, flattering my skill, and saying there was
good work for my sword. And with lies they brought me here to Munich. I
knew nothing except that there was money to be made, and the life of a
man of pleasure to lead. I suspected nothing; even when one of them came
and told me my skill as a swordsman had been called in question, my
honor impeached, and myself charged with being an impostor, and that if
I could not clear myself I must be off for a rogue."
"I begin to see," I exclaimed when he paused.
"Yes, yes, you will guess what it meant," he replied, nodding his head
vigorously. "But I could not then. And it came out gradually that the
man who had dared to say this was young Count Gustav von Gramberg. I
demanded to meet him face to face and give him the lie. Reluctantly, as
it seemed--by the nails of the Cross! it was the reluctance of infernal
traitors--they agreed and promised that we should meet. Then they fired
him with wine, and fed him with a lie about me; and when we met we were
like two tigers thirsting to be at one another's throats. You know what
happened!" he exclaimed, throwing up his hand again. "We quarrelled, I
struck him, he challenged me; and when we met I ran him through the
heart."
"It was murder for you to fight a man like that with swords," I cried
sternly.
"It was murder, Prince," he answered slowly. Then he added, with voluble
passion, "Deep, deliberate, cold-blooded, damnable murder; but I was not
the murderer. Mine was the hand, but theirs was the plot; and I never
realized it till they came to me and told me that they had planned its
every detail and step, that I was in their power; and that if I dared to
falter in any order they gave me, they would have me charged openly as a
murderer, and swear to such a story as would have me on the scaffold in
a trice. What could I do? I was powerless. I raged and swore, and cursed
for an hour; but they had me fast in their clutches, with never a chance
of escape. But they did not know me."
He broke off and chuckled with demoniacal cunning, filled himself
another bumper of wine, and drained the glass at a gulp.
"What did you do? And who are the men?"
He looked round at me with a leer of triumph, and, spreading out his
hands with a wide sweeping gesture, he laughed and said:
"I spread a net, wide and fine and strong, and when all was right I
baited it for a coward--a thin-blooded, hellish coward--and I caught
him. You know him well enough; and if you saved my life just now, I can
save yours in return. I snared him here to these rooms with a lie that I
was ill and dying and wanted to make my peace with Heaven and confess;
and he came running here in white-livered fear of what I should tell.
That was ten days ago; and in the mean time, for weeks and months I had
been probing and digging, and spying and discovering, till I had such
knowledge of their doings as made a tale worth one's telling to any
inquisitive old fool of a priest--and I let my lord the count have an
inkling of this."
He leant back, laughed, and swore with glee.
"He came. I was in bed all white and shaking," and he illustrated the
words with many gestures; "and my voice was feeble and quavering, like a
dying pantaloon's, as I gurgled out what I meant, and said, 'I have
written everything in a paper.' You should have seen his eyes glint at
this. He urged me to be careful, not to speak too freely; and he asked
to see the paper. I told him it was in a desk, and when he went to get
it and his back was to me I was out of bed and upon him in a trice. I
thrust him back into a chair and stood over him with my drawn sword,
vowing by all the calendar that I would drive it into his bowels if he
dared to so much as utter a squeak; and, by the Holy Ghost! I meant it
too."
"Well?" I cried impatiently when he paused.
"Ho, but your white-livered, pigeon-hearted, sheepish coward is a pretty
sight when his flesh goes gray, and his haggard eyes, drawn with fear,
stare up at you from under a brow all flecked with fright-sweat. I wish
you could have seen him. Well, I held him thus, told him all I knew, and
made him write out a confession of the true means by which the young
count had been lured to his death, the object of it all, and the story
of the double plot this treacherous villain is carrying on. I had found
out much, guessed more, and made him fill in what I didn't know. More
than that, too, I made him promise me certain definite rewards when the
plot succeeded, and to take me in with the rest as one of them--to work
with them now and share with them afterward."
"You are one of them?" I cried.
"You saw the answer to that to-night by the old church. They played the
game shrewdly enough. When I had let him go, one or two of the others
came to me and wished me to attend a meeting. I promised; but I am not a
lunatic, if their fool of a King is. No, no; I would not. Then they
changed and said there was another quarrel to be picked with you, my
friend; to send you to call on the young Count Gustav. But I said no;
that you were a great swordsman, better than myself, which was a lie of
course--but lies are everywhere in this Munich--and that I would not
meet you. So they will find some other end for you. Then the next little
friendly attention for me was the interview which you interrupted
to-night."
The effect of this recital upon me, so quaintly and so dramatically
told, may be conceived; and I sat turning it over and over and judging
it by the light of what I myself already knew.
"And what are you going to do now?" I asked at length.
"Sell what I know to the best purchaser--unless you can do what you
said, help me to my revenge. I know you are in this; though you little
guess the part they have cast for you."
"What's your price? I can take care of myself," I answered.
"Revenge is my chief point. I am a Corsican; and, by the Holy Tomb! I'll
never stay my hand till I've dragged the chief villain down."
"You mean?" I asked.
"That snake von Nauheim--the Count von Nauheim. The Honorable Count, a
member of the aristocracy. A lily-livered maggot."
He changed from irony to vehement, ungovernable rage with swift,
tempestuous suddenness.
"To whom will you sell your secret? The Ostenburgs?"
At the mention of the name he turned and looked at me intently, the
light of the lamp throwing up the strong shadows of the face; and he
stood staring thus for a full minute. Then he laughed.
"So you haven't guessed the riddle yet, eh? You're a deal simpler than I
thought." He came close to me, sat down, and put his face right into
mine, turning his head on one side and closing one eye with a gesture
of indescribable suggestion. "Have you never asked yourself how it was
that with all these people so dead set on putting a Gramberg on the
throne they should take the trouble to get the heir of that renowned
family killed?"
"Yes, it was because the Ostenburg agents got wind of the plot."
"Pouf!"
He laughed in my face and threw his hand up, and then rose and filled
himself another glass of wine, tossing it off like the rest.
"You can play a good game, no doubt, Prince, but you don't know the
cards you hold. If your young relative was killed by the Ostenburgs,
what the devil's hoofs was von Nauheim doing in that boat? And what the
devil's tail does he want to set me on to you for? Does he think the
Gramberg chances are to be improved by first killing off the heir and
then getting rid of you, the girl's chief protection? I know all about
Minna von Gramberg, and the plot to put her on the throne. I know this,
too, that she has no more chance of sitting on that throne than I have
of eating it. Body of Bacchus, man, these are foul fiends you are
leagued with and want knowing."
I began to see everything now, and my pulses quickened up with
excitement; and I guessed what was coming.
"What is your aim in all this?" he asked suddenly.
"I have come to Munich to see exactly how matters stand."
"And nicely they've fooled you, maybe--or at least they might have done
so if you hadn't been lucky enough to be within sound of my shout
to-night. I'll give you the key to the whole thing. There's a plot
within a plot, and all the Grambergs are being fooled. This type of
innocence, von Nauheim, is the tool of the Ostenburg interest. The
indignation against the King is all genuine enough; the people would
welcome his abdication to-morrow, and wouldn't seriously concern
themselves even if the abdication came by way of a dagger-thrust or a
pistol bullet. But the Ostenburg faction dare not force the abdication
for two reasons: because, in the first place, the people on your side
are strong enough to make a fight of it; and, in the second, if a fight
did come, no one can say what line the people at Berlin would take. It
is quite possible that they would swoop down and clear both sides out.
What these precious Ostenburgs have to do, therefore, is to get the
Crown without a suspicion of treachery."
He broke off with another of his sardonic laughs, and took more wine.
I did not interrupt, and a moment later he continued:
"Then came your old Prince as a stalking-horse. He wanted to make a grab
for the throne, fostered the discontent and rebellion, put his son
forward, and sounded the people here as to his chances. The Ostenburgs
knew of it directly, of course, and laid a clever, devilish plot to
profit by it. A large number of the wealthiest and most influential
supporters appeared to favor your Gustav; they warmed, made indirect
overtures, and then went over in a body, making it a condition that the
man they put forward as one of their leaders, von Nauheim, should marry
your old Prince's daughter. By the bag of Iscariot, a shrewd stroke! The
Prince saw nothing, and agreed, and that's the reason of that
love-match."
"A damnable scheme!" I exclaimed, between my teeth.
"Wait, wait," he said calmly, laying a hand on my arm. "Your Gustav was
in the way, and it is a canon of the Ostenburg code that there shall be
no Gramberg claimant to the throne alive, or, at any rate, fit to claim
it. So the quarrel and the duel were engineered, and there remained only
the Countess Minna. Then they had a stroke of luck. The old Prince died,
and the girl alone remained, helpless and friendless, except for you.
Your turn will therefore come, and then this is the plan: The plot to
place the Countess Minna on the throne will go forward gayly, is going
forward now, in point of fact. But--and mark this carefully--at the
critical moment your Countess Minna will have vanished, and then see the
position. The mad King will be gone, the throne will be vacant, the cry
of the conspirators and of Munich will be for the new Queen, and there
will be no Queen to answer. What next? Why, that the thoughts of all men
will turn to the Ostenburgs--the loyal, faithful, true, innocent,
do-nothing Ostenburgs--and the Duke Marx, their heir, will consent, when
the matter is forced upon him by the united populace, to mount the
throne. No taint of suspicion against him, no thought of treachery,
actually an opponent of the movement against this mad royalty, a stanch
upholder of the right divine of monarchs--he will be hailed by all as
the only possible successor to a King who cannot be found, and Berlin
will rejoice to see an ugly trouble got over in this easy fashion. Now!"
he exclaimed, with a grin full of meaning, "you can see much where
before you could see nothing at all."
"And what of the Countess Minna?"
He paused, and then answered in a low, guttural voice, and with a look
of deep, suggestive meaning:
"Von Nauheim will see to that. There is something in regard to him I do
not know; but I do know that, married to him, she would be impossible
for a Queen, for he is of the scum of the gutter, and there is worse
behind, I believe. But von Nauheim is no stickler for ceremonies. He may
not marry her at all; and, ruined by him, you may guess what her chances
of the throne would be."
"Hell!" I cried, leaping to my feet in fury.
He had got inside my impassiveness now, and I was like a madman at the
thoughts he had raised.
"I must see you to-morrow. Ride ten miles out on the Linden road, and
wait for me at noon. I shall go mad if I stay here longer."
And with that I rushed away.
CHAPTER IX
MY PLAN OF CAMPAIGN
The first effect upon me of Praga's story was to rouse and thrill every
pulse of passion in my nature. I could not think connectedly, and as I
plunged along through the early morning to von Nauheim's house I was
impelled by an overwhelming desire to call that villain instantly to
account. Insane plans flitted through my head of dashing into his room
and making him fight me to the death; and I gloated in the belief that I
could kill him.
But as the air cooled my fever my steps slackened their speed, my
judgment began to reassert its rule, and I saw that I should make a huge
mistake if I allowed myself to be led in such a crisis by the mere
impulses of blind rage. I had another to think of beside myself. He was
waiting up for me, no doubt curious and anxious to learn what I had been
doing; but I dared not trust myself to be with him then; so I sent a
message that I was unwell, and I hurried at once to my rooms.
Then I made the first practical admission that I felt myself in peril;
for I searched the rooms carefully to see that no one was concealed in
them, and I looked carefully to the fastenings of the doors to make
certain that no one could get in while I slept. I resolved also to buy
myself arms on the following day. I could not sleep, of course. I lay
tossing from side to side all through the hours of the dawn, thinking,
puzzling, speculating, and scheming; striving my hardest to decide what
I ought to do.
After what I had seen in the attack on Praga, I could not doubt that my
own personal danger was great. My cousin Gustav's fate had shown that
the men I had to deal with were infinitely cunning in resource and
absolutely desperate in resolve. Where, then, might I look for any
attack? I judged that it would be most likely to come in some shape that
would be difficult to trace to its authors; and I felt that I must guard
against getting embroiled in any quarrel, must go armed, and must be
always most vigilant and alert when I found myself in circumstances that
would lend themselves to my being attacked with impunity.
I own that I did not like the prospect. I don't think I'm a coward, and
claim no greater bravery than other men; but the thought that any moment
might find me the mark for an assassin's dagger or bullet tested my
courage to the utmost. My main problem, however, was of course as to
what I should do in regard to the plot. There were undoubtedly a number
of men pledged to support Minna's cause; loyal, true, faithful men of
honor, who had risked much for her and would uphold her to the last; but
how was I to distinguish the false from the true? If I could do that, my
path would be plain enough. I could reveal the whole business to them,
and we could together take means to checkmate the inner treachery. But I
could not distinguish them; nor on the other hand could Minna in honor
desert them.
There was the alternative of flight, of course; I could return to
Gramberg and rush the girl across the French frontier; but in addition
to the distaste for abandoning those who had been true to her, there
were other solid reasons against the flight. I could not see that there
was any permanent safety for Minna that way. As Praga had put it, it was
a canon of the Ostenburg position that there should be no Gramberg
claimant to the throne left alive or fit to claim the throne; and I did
not doubt for a moment that she might still be the object of attack
wherever she went. Their arm would be long enough to reach her. Thus
flight would thwart the Ostenburg scheme, but it would not achieve what
was far more important to us, the safety of all concerned.
Thus I was driven back again upon my former conclusion that the policy
of flight must be only the last resource when other things had failed.
And I made up my mind that if at all possible this Ostenburg scheme must
be met and outwitted.
After many hours of thought on these lines, I began to see two courses.
We must go on with the scheme up to the very verge of its completion.
Then Minna should indeed disappear; but the disappearance should be
stage-managed by us, and not by the Ostenburg agents; and a daring
thought occurred to me, to entrap these men with their own snare when
pledged to the hilt to support Minna.
I would not only let her reappear at the very moment when they would be
reckoning on her absence to push the claims of their own man, the Duke
Marx; but I would get hold of this duke himself and put him away in her
place. We would thus hold the throne against them for long enough to
make such terms of compromise as we chose to dictate.
It would be a dare-devil piece of work, and call for one or two
desperate men. But I had two already to hand--von Krugen and Praga,
with Steinitz as a faithful third--and we might find one or two more
among those who were faithful to Minna's interests.
The thought of this so roused me that I could not stay in my bed, but
paced up and down my room in a glow of excitement as I thought out,
pondered, and planned the details move by move to the final climax.
My first step must be, of course, to mislead all those concerned in the
scheme to believe that I was with them, and that I pledged Minna herself
to the same course; and I went to meet von Nauheim in the morning with
this idea clear in my thoughts.
"You were out of town yesterday, Prince?" he said.
"Yes, I am accustomed to quietude, and can clear my thoughts best in the
country. This affair worries me."
"I understood you were ill when you came back?"
"Merely an excuse. I was fatigued, and in no mood for conversation. It
was late."
"It was--very," he replied dryly.
I made no answer, and after a moment he said:
"I presume you were thinking about our matters?"
"They were not out of my thoughts all day, and have kept me awake all
night. I could wish I had never heard of them!" I exclaimed sharply.
"I suppose it is rather a big thing for you to decide?" he said, with a
laugh; and then added quickly, "I presume you have decided, though? We
shall expect to know to-night definitely."
"I am disposed to advise my cousin to join you and go on; but it may be
nervousness, or that I am unused to such weighty affairs--whatever it
is, I scarcely know how to answer."
"Well, you have had five or six days, you know."
"I've had to change all my views. I came to Munich with the conviction
that such a scheme must fail, and could only end in disaster or,
perhaps, worse."
"And now?" he asked, eyeing me sharply.
"I see the risks are enormous; but success seems much more probable than
I thought. Indeed, if all is as it appears to be, I don't see where
failure can come. I was trying to see that all day yesterday."
"What do you mean 'if all is as it appears'? What else can it be?"
"In a thousand schemes every one must have a weak spot somewhere. In
this I fear what Berlin may do."
This answer relieved the doubt I had purposely raised, and he smiled as
though my objection were ridiculous.
"Discuss that with Baron Heckscher. You'll soon see there's no cause for
fear in it."
"If I were sure of that, my last objection would be gone."
"Then you are ours at last!" he exclaimed triumphantly, "and I'm right
glad of it, Prince. You'll never repent throwing in your lot with us,
for we shall rule this kingdom as surely as you and I are sitting at
this table."
Gradually I allowed myself to be led on by him to copy, in a modified
degree, his tone of jubilant enthusiasm, until he had no longer a doubt
that I had been won over completely; and I spoke as if in some awe of
the magnificent mission and great opportunities which a woman of Minna's
high character and aims would have as the future Queen of Bavaria. He
indulged this vein in the belief that he was drawing out my earnestness
and encouraging my loyalty, and, indeed, fooling me to the top of my
bent.
He asked me how I would spend the day, and whether I wished to see any
more of our friends, before the meeting, to discuss my lingering doubts
as to interference from Berlin; but I said I would rather be alone, as I
was accustomed to solitary meditation, and that I was going to ride. He
placed his stable at my disposal, and suggested one or two places of
interest to which I could go.
I pretended to accept his suggestions, and he watched me ride off,
standing bare-headed and gazing after me. When I turned, he waved his
hand, and his face wore a smile of confident self-congratulation at the
cleverness with which he had duped me. I kept to the road which he had
mentioned for a short distance, riding at a slow pace, and then, turning
off from it, I threaded the outskirts of the town until I struck the
Linden road, when I put my horse to a sharp canter to keep my
appointment.
One point I had to consider carefully--how far to trust Praga. He was a
man to beware of, unscrupulous, recklessly daring, and bitterly
vengeful; but I had saved his life, and I believed that he had in his
disposition that kind of rough and dogged chivalry which would incline
him to feel under an obligation to me, at least until he had paid the
debt in kind. Assistance of some sort from some one with inside
knowledge I must have, for the case was desperate enough; and there was
no doubt that he would be infinitely valuable to me. I had strong
inducements to offer, too--revenge for his own injuries; gratitude for
my help on the preceding night; momentary reward to any reasonable
amount; and advancement to a post of confidence. There was a risk that
he would betray me, of course; but I could not weigh these risks too
carefully, and this was one I felt I must be content to take.
I had ridden some ten or eleven miles, and was walking my horse slowly
past a small coppice, when I heard him call to me from among the trees.
He had chosen a cunning hiding-place. He knew his business.
"Ride on to the next turning on this side, Prince, and turn in at the
first gate."
I followed his instructions, and found him already at the gate, on foot,
having tied his horse to a tree. I fastened mine and then joined him.
"Were you followed from my house last night?" he asked; and when I told
him no, he added: "Good; I had to shake them off this morning. The game
is getting warmer. We must not stay long together. What have you to say
to me?"
"Will you show me the paper you made von Nauheim sign?" I asked.
"I will take your word of honor for its safe keeping," he returned, his
dark face smiling. "I guessed you would wish to see it." And he handed
it to me.
"You trust it to me?" I cried, in some surprise.
"I am no fool, Prince," he answered. "If you keep that, it means we
shall work together, and that is what I wish. If we are not to do so,
you are too honorable a man not to return it. I trust either wholly, or
not at all." He raised his hands, shoulders, and eyebrows in a combined
gesture, as though suggesting there was no more to be said about the
matter. "But you, what are you going to do? You have some plan, of
course?"
"Will you work with me?" I asked.
"I told you last night--my purse, my sword, and my life are at your
service, and if your plan helps my revenge I will keep as stanch and
true as a hound."
"I am going to put my whole scheme in your possession," was my answer;
and in the fewest words I told him what I had resolved, keeping back
only such parts of the plan as touched the Countess Minna and myself
personally.
He listened with rapt attention, his swarthy face drawn into thoughtful
lines, and he did not interrupt me once. When I had finished, he
remained silent a long while thinking it all over carefully.
"It is a shrewd scheme, Prince, very shrewd. There is only one
difficulty."
"Well?"
"For you and me to keep alive sufficiently long to carry it through. The
attempt last night will not be the last, and the efforts won't be
confined to me. They have not touched you so far, probably because they
feel it will strengthen their hands with the Countess Minna to get your
open adherence to the plot. But when that has once been obtained, you
will only be in the way, and you had better lay your account with that.
But if we can keep our hearts beating and our throats unslit until the
time of crisis comes, we shall win. By the sword of the archangel, but I
like the scheme!"
"There is a meeting to-night at which I announce my formal adherence,
and then I shall return to Gramberg to complete my arrangements."
"If you live to leave the town," he said grimly. "But you understand now
the sort of men you are fighting. And what do you wish me to do?"
"Yours will be the most dangerous and, in some respects, I think the
most difficult work of all--the post of honor. You must prepare the
means by which the Duke Marx von Ostenburg can be got into our power,
and you must be prepared to carry out the seizure the moment I give the
signal. It had best be done on the very day of the court ball."
To my surprise he smiled and declared that that part of the business
would not be difficult of accomplishment.
"I may need one man to help me, though I can probably do it all alone;
and you will only have to say where you wish him carried."
"I have to find the place yet," I replied. "But how can you do this? Why
are you so sure?"
"I can move the female lever which can move him," he returned, with his
hard smile.
"But at that moment he himself will be all anxiety for these matters of
State, and his presence in Munich will be simply imperative for their
interests."
"No matter. If he was buried under a mountain and had to claw his way
out with his nails and teeth, he would do it at her bidding. Have no
fear."
"He will not be harmed?"
"That we can settle when we get him," he answered grimly.
I said no more. So long as we could make secure the person of the duke
at the moment we needed him, I would see to the rest. Then I arranged
how we two were to hold communication and untethered my horse to leave.
"You will go to that meeting to-night, Prince?" he asked.
"Certainly, it is necessary."
"You will go armed, then?"
"Arms will not be of much use; but I shall take them."
"I need not warn you again. But this I would say: At the very moment
when you feel safest expect their attack. And now, as a last word, let
me give you a pledge that whatever happens I will not let a word between
my teeth. On the honor of a Corsican."
He raised his hat and stood bare-headed. He had the dramatic instinct
keenly developed, and he did everything with pose and gesture that might
have been taken for artificiality. But I was convinced that he was
stanch enough in this affair.
I rode back to Munich by a different route, and my thoughts were busy
with the forthcoming meeting. I did not consider it at all likely that
any sort of violence would be attempted then; but Praga's words of
caution began to run in my head--"When you feel safest, expect the
attack." All the afternoon they were buzzing in my thoughts, and when
von Nauheim returned in time for a very hurried late dinner, and the
hour of the meeting drew nigh, they were more insistent than ever.
In the afternoon I bought myself arms--a sword-stick and a revolver; and
while I was alone I took careful note of the room where the meeting was
to be held, its entrances and exits. There was a window in the corner
which opened on to a quadrangle at the back of the house, and I resolved
to take my seat near that, lest I should need a speedy way of escape.
I had, indeed, determined upon one somewhat daring step, and I could not
foretell what consequences might ensue.
When the hour for the meeting came, I took my seat and watched the men
as they entered; and sat steadying my nerves and planning my moves in
the game which was about to open in such deadly earnest, and which might
have such momentous consequences for all concerned.
CHAPTER X
A COUNCIL OF CONSPIRACY
My first thought about the meeting was that I had misjudged, in an
almost ludicrous manner, what the proceedings would be. My nerves were,
no doubt, a little overstrung by the events of the past day or two: the
dramatic exaggeration which had characterized almost every gesture and
action of the Corsican, the actual evidence of my own eyes of the
ruthless intensity of purpose with which these people pursued their
plans, and my own exceeding conventional conceptions of what such a plot
as this would be, had led me to anticipate some sort of more or less
theatrical exhibition of conspiracy at the meeting. But there was
nothing of the kind.
The men dropped in one after another, just as they might into any small
social gathering, chatted with each other, grouped themselves in twos
and threes, joked and laughed, discussed the latest scandal, exchanged
notes on the newest play, and for a long time talked of nothing but the
subjects on which any of them found a common surface interest. All of
them made occasion to come to me and exchange a word or two: How I liked
Munich, whether I had been to the opera, if I took any interest in the
races, had I heard of the new military order from Berlin, and so on.
Nothing more. Yet each contrived to convey that he was very glad to see
me present, leaving me to infer anything more.
After a considerable time, the man whom von Nauheim had mentioned to me
most often, Baron Heckscher, one of the wealthiest men in Munich, and
the strongest leader in the scheme, came across and began to talk to me.
He said he took the greatest interest in me; that it was a matter of
great regret I had been so long absent from Munich and Gramberg; and
that the honor of the great title I bore was an enormous responsibility
for so young a man.
"But I am sure you will prove equal to it, Prince. Our conversations
during these last few days have convinced me of this. You will play a
great part in the kingdom and--who shall say?--perhaps in the Empire."
I murmured some conventional reply, and he added:
"There is only one thing against you. You will need wealth. The Gramberg
estates should have gone with the title. I cannot understand my old
friend's will. But that can be, and, of course, will be, rectified."
"I am not very ambitious of a State career," I replied, appreciating the
proffered bribe.
"The State has need of all her strong men, Prince," he answered readily,
"and she would be jealous of desertion; she cannot spare you. We old men
have had our day, and it is part of our duty, and, despite the
jealousies of some of us, part of our pleasure too, to mark out the
rising men--the men worthy to rise, that is--and see that they have
their opportunities. In the time that is coming you will have a
magnificent part, for the actualities of power are not on, but around,
the throne."
In this way he led adroitly round to the subject, and I knew that all
his flattery was just so much verbiage. He had had no opportunities of
telling whether I was a fool or a genius.
"There is a great deal of doubt about the future," said I sententiously;
"but to have earned the good opinion of so shrewd a judge of men as
yourself is much."
If he could flatter, so could I.
He paused a moment, and then, in a slightly lower tone, and with a
suggestion of increased importance, he said, motioning toward von
Nauheim:
"Our friend has told me your very shrewd doubts as to the probable
action of those at Berlin. They are very natural, and you are quite
right to express them; but--there is no fear on that score. The Imperial
Government is as sick of the vagaries of the King as we Bavarians
ourselves. He is a constant anxiety. You will see why. A madman on a
throne is a standing menace to the principle of the Divine Right on
which a monarchy must in reality depend. They will not interfere,
because openly they dare not countenance a movement to upset a throne."
And he went on to give me elaborate arguments to explain away my doubts.
I listened very carefully, stated my objections, and discussed them all;
and then allowed myself to appear to be won round by his persuasion to
the view that when once the plot were carried to a successful climax
Berlin would recognize the new position and acquiesce in it. This I
believed myself, moreover.
As I held the clew to his real motives, I was greatly interested to note
the subtlety with which he avoided the points that were more closely
concerned with the duplicity of the inner plot, and dwelt on those where
he could be sincere.
"It will depend greatly on the solidarity of the movement and the
loyalty to each other of all concerned in it," I said at the close.
"That is the pith and marrow of it all; and of that there cannot be a
doubt. There are some twenty of us here," he exclaimed, with a wave of
the hand round the room; "and each of us represents and can speak for at
least one strong interest and section. Besides, we are not groping in
the dark. I myself have secured assurances from Berlin. We have not a
weak link."
He stopped, and looked at me with an invitation to make my declaration.
I noticed, too, that in some way the fact had communicated itself to the
rest of those present that the moment of importance had arrived. They
had at first drawn a little away from the table at which we two sat; and
I had seen many little quick glances shot in our direction during the
discussion between the baron and myself; but there had been no check in
the general flow of chatter.
Now, however, there was a decided lull, save where one man was telling
noisily an incident in which he had been the principal and was laughing
at his own joke. The rest were for the most part smoking stolidly with
only low murmurs of broken talk.
Von Nauheim was restless and fidgety, champing his cigar with quick,
nervous bites, and blowing out the smoke rapidly in heavy puffs, and
stealing furtive glances at me.
The situation was just as I would have had it. I had effectually
concealed the fact that I had entered the room resolved to join them,
and had produced the impression that at the last moment the baron's
arguments had talked away my doubts. I kept my face impassive and set,
as though weighing my words to the last moment.
"We shall go on with you, baron," I said quietly; "but of course under
conditions."
"How can you make conditions, Prince?" he asked; and now the whole room
was waiting upon our words.
"There must be a fresh declaration of allegiance to the Countess Minna
as the future Queen."
"We are already pledged, every man of us, Prince," he returned.
"My uncle's death has altered matters," I answered. "And the declaration
will be signed by all concerned here to-night and in my presence."
"That is scarcely necessary, as we have signed already. But if you make
a point of it, yes."
"I do press it," I said firmly.
I had a strong reason which they did not yet see. I paused a moment
before I made my next move, for it was a strong one.
"Again, as my uncle's death is so recent, it will not be seemly--indeed,
it is impossible--for my cousin's marriage with the Count von Nauheim to
take place until after she is on the throne--unless, indeed, all matters
are postponed until a sufficient interval takes place."
I counted much on this stroke, and that it was a shrewd one was
instantly apparent. It was, indeed, nothing less than a sharp test of
the loyalty of every man present, and it started warm discussion among
them all, several protests being made.
The avowed object of the marriage was to cement the co-operation of the
powerful section of which Baron Heckscher was the head, by securing half
the royal power to their representative; but the secret motive, as I
knew, was to render Minna personally unfit to be Queen. Thus to postpone
the marriage until after she was actually on the throne seemed on the
surface to destroy the very pith of the inner plot, and so to wreck the
Ostenburg plans altogether. Hence those who were for that interest felt
bound to oppose the suggestion, while those who were genuinely for us
would admit its reasonableness. To the one side it meant failure, and to
the other, at the worst, mere postponement; and my object was thus to
detach the latter and see who were really our friends. To my dismay
there were but two in the room, and these the least influential; but I
marked them closely while I stuck doggedly to my point.
It was the Baron Heckscher who came to the rescue.
"I have been waiting to hear the general opinion," he said--he had been
sitting rapt in deep thought--"and I do not see there is any solid
objection to the condition. We are all aware that this marriage, like
most Court nuptials, has been arranged for certain definite
purposes"--and he glanced round the room with an effect I did not fail
to observe. "And if proper guarantees of these purposes are afforded, I
do not see any objection. We are merely gaining the same end by slightly
different means. As Count von Nauheim carries certain interests on his
shoulders in the marriage, all we have to see is that those interests
are protected."
It was most adroitly wrapped up, but I knew too much to be deceived; and
as I had now gained my end--the separation of the sheep from the wolves
in this assorted pack--I said no more than to agree that any desired
guarantees should be given.
"The other condition is perhaps fanciful, as it is certainly personal,"
I said, "and it is somewhat connected with that which we have just
discussed. My cousin, the Countess Minna, cannot, of course, go forward
in a hazardous work of this kind, now we are agreed the marriage must be
postponed, without a male relative to guide and counsel her. And as we
Grambergs have been so unfortunate as to lose two prominent members,
there is only myself remaining. One of us, my cousin Gustav, certainly
lost his life in this cause, through the treachery of the Ostenburg
agents, and therefore we look to you all--I look to you all,
gentlemen"--and here I raised my voice slightly--"to secure me against
an attack from any source that may threaten my life. I know I do not
count on you in vain, because you are all loyal to the cause; but there
is an additional and very special reason for my thus calling on you.
Upon my life and safety the continuance or end of this scheme depends,
so far as my cousin Minna is concerned. You may need to redouble your
vigilance against our enemies, and to strain your efforts to the utmost
to anticipate and prevent attacks upon me; but understand quite clearly
that if you suffer me to be attacked and to fall, at that moment my
cousin will withdraw from the scheme, and openly abandon all claim to
the throne."
The disconcerting effect of this short speech was profound.
A dead silence fell on the room for a few moments, and I am bound to
confess that I enjoyed immensely the general consternation. It appeared
to me the strongest confirmation I could have had of the existence of a
plot against my life, and that this move of mine was regarded as a
checkmate. But I shut out of my face every expression save one of a kind
of friendly expectation of personal assurances of agreement.
"Why I paused before replying, Prince," said Baron Heckscher presently,
"was merely that, while I am confident there is not a man in the room,
nor among all the thousands for whom we can speak, who would not
cheerfully risk his life in defence of one so valuable--indeed, so
essential--to the cause and the country as your own, it is a little
difficult for us to pledge ourselves to abandon a cause for which we
have made such sacrifices, and incurred such tremendous personal risks,
should accident intervene to harm you."
He was talking to gain time, I could see that easily enough.
"There was no one found ready to defend my cousin Gustav from a man who
was no better than an assassin," I said, somewhat curtly. "And I have
heard that the man is still mixing with some of you."
Von Nauheim's tell-tale face paled at this thrust.
"Your cousin's rashness was the cause of that quarrel, Prince," said the
baron, "and it was all against our advice and our most earnest entreaty
that the duel ever took place. As to Praga's connection with the matter
since, you know, of course, that in affairs of this kind we must use as
instruments such as we find ready to hand. But his connection with the
movement is of the flimsiest and most superficial kind."
"My cousin's death remains unavenged," I answered sternly.
"It will not remain so," said the baron significantly.
"No, indeed," I returned, intentionally misunderstanding him, "for I
myself will call the man to account."
"Not until after our plans have been carried through."
"At the first moment I meet with him," said I, with an air of
recklessness.
"This must not be!" exclaimed the baron quickly. "Do you not see what
you are doing, Prince? You tell us that if you fall the Countess Minna
will desert us and abandon the whole movement on the very eve of its
success; and yet in the next breath you declare that you are going to
court death by fighting a duel with one of the greatest masters of
fencing in Europe. Would you wreck the whole scheme?"
"I would avenge my cousin's death!" I cried sternly. "Unless, indeed,
the Count von Nauheim, as a future member of the family, or some other
gentleman here, is loyal enough to us to take up this work."
"I do not fight with hired bravos," growled von Nauheim.
"There is no man in Bavaria can stand before that Praga's sword," said
the baron, while I enjoyed his perplexity.
"Well, then, call the man out and shoot him!" I exclaimed brutally.
"But, in all truth, I can't for the life of me understand, since you are
all afraid of his sword-play, why you allowed Gustav to meet him."
"We had not then had this fearful evidence of his skill; and your cousin
denied it, and believed him an impostor," said the baron.
"Nor do I believe in it," I answered vehemently, and I saw that I had
produced the impression I wished of extreme caution in some things,
coupled with recklessness in others, and had made them believe me
thoroughly in earnest in my condition that, if my life were taken, my
cousin Minna would go no farther. I had no wish to press matters any
more, therefore.
"You are a true Gramberg, Prince, it is easy to see," said the baron,
smiling uneasily. "And I fear you will give us trouble."
I meant to, but not of the kind as anticipated.
"That may be," I replied, ungraciously and curtly. "But now, if you
please, as to these conditions."
"We can accept them if you will pledge yourself to take no rash action
in hazarding your life until we have succeeded. Otherwise I for one
shall withdraw, even now."
I could have laughed aloud at the firm, decisive tone in which he said
this--for it was the proof of how I had turned the tables upon them. I
hesitated before replying, as if to think.
"Yes, it is fair that I should give such a pledge," I said then. "I will
wait. It will not be long."
"In a fortnight, by the grace of God, all will be effected," cried Baron
Heckscher fervently. Then, rising, he said with enthusiasm: "Gentlemen,
to our future Queen--Queen Minna of Bavaria. May the blessing of God
light upon her, and let her bring peace to this distracted State. In the
name of God I swear allegiance to the new ruler of Bavaria."
He raised his right hand on high as he took this equivocal and falsely
true oath, and every man present followed his example. It was an
impressive scene, and I made haste to improve the occasion.
"We will sign the declaration now," I said quietly.
The baron produced that which had been formerly signed--a short, simply
worded document pledging the signatories to allegiance; and as he
appeared loath to allow the paper to pass out of his own hands, he
himself copied and then burnt it. I raised no objection to this
proceeding, or to the wording, which was sufficiently compromising for
the purpose I had in view. The other men signed it first, and I observed
that the baron hung back until the last.
"I am the last to join you, I will sign last," I said quietly, and I
laid it before him.
He wished to protest, I could see, but there was no valid reason. For
the present at any rate I was in the position of power.
He wrote his name slowly and, I thought, reluctantly, and when he had
finished, he put the paper across the small table, and held it firmly in
one hand, pointing with the other to the place where I should write my
name. I saw his object was the same as my own--to get and keep
possession of a paper on which the life of every man signing it might
depend. But it was an essential part of my plan that I myself should
have possession of the paper to use as I might afterward find necessary.
And I outwitted him. Not giving a sign of my intention, I took the pen
he gave me and glanced at it.
"A pen that will have a history," I said, looking at him.
Then in making a movement as of preparation to sign I dropped the pen,
and as I stooped and picked it up I broke the nib designedly, exclaiming
at my carelessness.
"No matter, there is another pen there," I cried hurriedly, and with a
sudden pull I snatched the sheet from his grasp, carried it to another
table, and signed it before he had recovered from his surprise and
vexation. Then I blotted it quickly, folded it, and put it away in my
pocket, as though this were the most natural and ordinary course.
But I saw the men look from one to the other with half-hidden
apprehension in their glances. I knew it was a crisis, and I carried it
through with a dash.
"As head of my house, and the only blood relative of our future Queen, I
shall guard with religious care this declaration of your allegiance and
fidelity, this charter of the new Bavarian freedom," I said, raising my
voice and speaking with as much dignity as I could assume. "In my
cousin's name I thank you for your help, and I promise you the most
earnest, most cordial, and most generous recognition of your efforts.
From this moment her life belongs to her country. For myself, I assure
you that, although I am the last to join you, no man shall be found more
active, resolute, and vigilant in the cause. God bless Queen Minna of
Bavaria!"
They echoed the words, but there was little heartiness in the tone,
except from the two men whom I knew to be loyal; and I stood on my
guard, half expecting some kind of attack.
But the moment passed and nothing was said or done to thwart me; and
after a few words of lying congratulation upon the evening's work from
the baron, the meeting broke up.
As the men left I could tell that my acts had produced a great
impression on them, and that I had at least convinced them that I was
not a man with whom they could safely trifle.
But my task had only begun.
CHAPTER XI
"EVEN ONE SUBJECT MAY MAKE A KINGDOM"
When the last of the men had left, and I had seen von Nauheim go out
with the old baron in close consultation, I sat on alone for a time
thinking with some exultation of the result of my week's work in Munich,
and of the vastly changed position which my shuffling of the cards had
created.
I should certainly sleep the sounder for the value I had contrived to
put on my life in their eyes; for I calculated that until they had had
time to reconstruct their plans they would not venture to attack me.
What would they do? I pondered the question very carefully, turning it
over and over in my thoughts as I knew that wily old baron was doing at
the self-same moment--unless he had already made a plan and had taken
von Nauheim out to impart it to him.
One thing soon made itself quite clear. Whatever form their next move
might take, it would closely concern Minna. She was the pivot on which
everything turned in their inner plot. So long as she was a free agent,
and able to do what I had said--openly renounce the scheme and publicly
abandon her claim to the throne--they would not touch me. But the
instant they could get her into their control my power would be broken.
I should no longer be necessary to them, but in the way. I could guess
what would follow.
I determined, therefore, to take the initiative and force the game with
von Nauheim; and, fortunately, he gave me an opportunity.
After I had been alone about an hour he returned, and did not take any
trouble to hide the fact that he was in a very bad temper. When the
surface was scratched, he was too much of a cad to remember that he was
my host. He swaggered into the room and poured himself out a stiff glass
of brandy and drank it. Then he turned to me.
"I suppose you think you've managed things devilish well to try and play
the master in this way?"
"Well, I haven't done badly," I said, with a shrug of the shoulders.
"I should like to know what you mean about your condition about my
marriage--cursed interference, I call it."
"My meaning was plain enough to the rest; surely I need not repeat it."
"Oh, I know what you mean. But what the devil is it to you? Is it your
game to try and stop this marriage altogether? You won't, you know, so
you needn't try."
"I would rather discuss family affairs with you when you're----" I was
going to say sober, but checked myself and changed it to--"when you are
less excited."
"What do you mean by that?" he cried, taking fire and speaking
furiously. "Do you mean to insinuate that I'm drunk?" and he rose and
came up close to me.
At that I guessed his motive by a kind of intuition. He meant to put a
quarrel on me over this postponement of the marriage; and probably to
let it develop into a scuffle, in which he would try to regain
possession of the paper I had put in my pocket.
"I prefer not to continue the conversation now," I said coolly.
"But you'll have to, whether you wish it or not. I'm not going to let
you ride roughshod over me, I can tell you. You'll just have the
goodness to apologize to me for your insinuation that I'm drunk. D'ye
hear?"
"I have not the least intention of apologizing to you for anything,"
said I sharply.
"Oh, won't you? We'll see about that," he cried, in an even louder
voice; and then by deliberate intention I saw him knock over a small
table on which a number of bottles and glasses stood. These fell to the
ground with a loud clatter and crash, and the next moment a couple of
servants came running into the room.
I judged that it was a preconcerted signal, for the moment they appeared
he put his hand on my arm and, staring threateningly into my face, swore
at me.
"You shall not leave the room till you've apologized," he said, calling
the two men to his side.
I kept cool enough. I had no difficulty in shaking off his hand, and I
stared him full in the face with so stern a look that, bully as he was,
he flinched and wavered and changed color.
"Are you mad, Count von Nauheim, that you would make me forget I am
under your roof?"
"No, I'm not mad nor drunk either, but you shall repent this night's
work. Here," he called to the men again.
What he meant to do I know not, for my next action produced so wholly
unexpected a result that he had no chance to do anything.
I whipped out the revolver I had in my pocket and levelled it
point-blank in the lackeys' faces and bade them in ringing tones to be
off out of the room. They stayed for no second bidding, but turned on
their heels and scampered for their lives, leaving their master looking
very much of a fool in the middle of the room. I put the revolver away
again then and turned to him.
"Now that we are alone again, what do you mean to do?"
But his courage had fled as fast as his servants, and with a feeble
attempt at a lying laugh he mumbled out something to the effect that he
had meant no more than a joke, and turned away to hide his confusion in
another full dose of brandy.
I saw my chance and took it.
"I do not allow people to play jokes of that kind upon me, Count von
Nauheim," I said, as sternly as I could. "I prefer to trust the evidence
of my own wits and say that you were in earnest in the attempt to use
some violence toward me. Under these circumstances I cannot, of course,
remain another hour in your house; and you will understand this to mean
that I cannot receive you at Gramberg. You will therefore spare me the
unpleasantness of telling my servants to refuse you admittance by not
attempting to come there."
"Do you mean that you will try to keep me from my affianced wife?"
"Unless my cousin chooses to meet you elsewhere than at Gramberg, that
is precisely what will happen," I answered.
"I suppose you want the fortune for yourself?" he sneered.
"You have a short memory, count. You have forgotten you told me the
fortune would come to me as soon as this matter was successfully
accomplished."
He flushed, for he had evidently forgotten that part of his former
instructions, and my reminder irritated him.
"Then maybe you want Minna, and have a fancy yourself to sit on the
throne?"
"I have nothing further to say to you," I answered stiffly. "Any
communication I have to make regarding matters here shall be made to
Baron Heckscher." And with that I left the room and the house.
I was glad of the quarrel for many reasons. We should be rid of the
man's presence at Gramberg while making our preparations there; and I
should feel much freer in any future visits to Munich. But most welcome
of all was the fact that I knew Minna would be delighted at my having
secured that she should not see him again.
I went to a hotel, passed a very comfortable night after a very full
day, and the next morning before setting out for Gramberg I paid a visit
to each of the two men whom I had ascertained to be loyal to Minna.
Their names were Kummell and Beilager; and I urged them, for reasons
which I would explain, to pay a secret visit to Gramberg. Then I
returned to the castle lighter in heart and even busier in thought than
I had set out. Busy as I was with the details of my own schemes,
however, I found more than once my thoughts running ahead of me to the
castle in pleased speculation as to how Minna would meet me and what she
would say to my news.
When I had finished my train journey, and was driving to the castle, I
could not help comparing my present feelings with those on my first
arrival at the place. I had played the part of the Prince so completely
during the exciting experiences of the two weeks that had passed since
my arrival, every one had accepted my impersonation so unconditionally,
and I had acted and spoken so entirely as if I were indeed the head of
that great house, that I had actually begun to feel that I was in
reality the Prince. I looked upon the signs of deference, the honors,
the ready compliance with my wishes, the submission to my orders, as
though they were my just due; and I was conscious of a greatly increased
sense of dignity, which, I have no doubt, imparted itself to my mien and
speech.
I had now no thought of drawing back, of course, until at least I had
cut the knot of Minna's difficulties; and I had begun to entertain some
very unpleasant and disquieting doubts and anxieties as to how I could
shake off my borrowed plumes and return to the humdrum, meaningless,
empty, incognito existence.
As to that, indeed, a new set of thoughts had begun to take shape in my
mind--wild and forlorn hopes, in truth, but none the less cherished. The
idea was to try and so carry through this business of the Munich plot as
to ingratiate myself sufficiently into the favor of the great ones at
Berlin to win back my own position and inheritance.
The most spurring motive that can move a man was developing in me, and
developing fast. As a supposititious Prince von Gramberg I was
absolutely impossible as a suitor for Minna's hand. Even if I could save
her from this terrible entanglement, and escape any recognition, I could
not marry her. My life would then have to be lived over a mine which
might be exploded under my feet at any moment, to the ruin of both her
life and my own.
As an English adventurer and ex-play-actor my case was just as hopeless.
But as Count von Rudloff there would be no such bar of family between
us; my family was indeed as old as any in the kingdom, and I set my wits
to work zealously to find means by which I could use this plot to that
end. But the odds against me were enough to make any one despair, and
the knowledge almost appalled me.
I was not long left in doubt as to the manner of my reception at
Gramberg. My cousin was waiting for me on the very threshold, and she
came to meet me, her face aglow with pleasure, and her eyes beaming with
the warmest of welcomes. She took my hand in both hers, and for the
moment could do no more than murmur words of welcome and gladness at my
return. As for me, the sweetness of her beauty, the touch of her hands
in mine, and the sheer delight I felt in her presence held me
tongue-tied.
Then her words burst out with a rush, and she plied me with question
upon question about my news, my doings in Munich, what was to happen,
and a thousand other things, until I caught von Krugen's dark eyes--he
had met me at the station and was standing by me now--fixed upon her in
shrewd speculation.
"I could not hold back my impatience a minute longer, cousin Hans," she
said at length, with a smile. "Although my good aunt Gratz would have
had me wait upstairs in my rooms until you would find it convenient to
see me. You will forgive me for this unceremonious assault?"
I would have loved to tell her what I really thought about it; but I put
a curb on any such madness by reflecting that her anxiety had nothing in
it personal to myself.
"It would take so long in the telling," I answered. "I can scarcely tell
it to you here."
A look of regret and surprise dashed her face for the moment, and she
withdrew her hands from mine and bit her lips.
"I have done wrong in rushing to you thus. You will think it unseemly.
Will you let me know how soon you can come to me? Do believe, cousin, I
would not wittingly do anything to displease you."
I stood silent like a dumb fool; and then after a pause she added:
"I ought to have reflected you would have many things to do, and that
I--that I should be in the way. I will go."
"No, don't go," I blurted out, and then could say no more.
She looked at me in justifiable astonishment, and wrinkled her brows in
perplexity.
"The Prince was saying as we drove here that he must see you at once,
countess," interposed von Krugen, and I could have blessed him for the
words. Then he went forward and threw open the door of the room next,
and looked round as if inviting us to enter. It was the library.
I shook myself together with an effort and gathered my scattered wits.
"Can you spare me an interview at once?" I asked Minna.
"Cousin!" and her astonishment deepened and found expression in her
tone. "Am I not here for that very purpose--and dying to learn the news?
Come;" and she went into the room and led the way to the far end, as it
chanced to the very window from the embrasure of which I had first seen
her. "I hope your first news is that all this plot is at an end, and
that the project of the marriage is dead with it?"
I had mastered my stupid embarrassment by this time and had found my
tongue again.
"You must listen carefully to all I have to tell you, and then to what I
propose to do," I replied, and plunged at once into as plain a recital
as I could give of all that part of the proceedings which I deemed it
necessary to tell her. I dwelt upon the reasons why in my opinion it was
impossible to draw back yet, and upon all I expected to gain by the
counterplot I had devised.
"I will not see the Count von Nauheim again," she said, and her dislike
of him was the first and strongest feeling she expressed. Nor did I
grieve at this.
"He will not come here," I said. "I was going to force a quarrel on him
to make that impossible when he saved me the trouble by putting one on
me. I then warned him off the place."
"Good, very good!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "If I were to see him
again, I could not restrain my hatred. I should tell him exactly how I
feel toward him. It is loathsome even to be linked in name with such a
man. But as that is settled, I will do whatever you wish. I knew you
would be too much for them all, cousin Hans, if they did not kill you,
as I sadly feared they would. I shall never be able to repay you," she
added, looking to me and smiling. "If I were only a man, I could----"
"What?" I asked when she stopped.
"I could at least fight with you instead of being a clog and a drag."
"You are our inspiration," I said earnestly, and at that her cheeks
flushed and she cast down her eyes.
"I wish all the trouble were over," she said presently.
"We must not be in too great a hurry. We have done very well so far. A
little pluck and dash, and slice or two of luck, and we shall get
through all right. But now tell me, can you think of any place in
Munich, or near there, where you can go secretly and hide when the
moment comes?"
"Why must I be put out of the way in this fashion? It seems like running
away at the very moment of peril, and I am not afraid. Do you think I am
a coward?"
"This is no question of bravery or cowardice. It is merely a matter of
tactics. The very keystone of this inner plot of theirs is that you
shall be missing when the cry is raised for you to ascend the throne. To
secure that these people will stick at nothing--they would even take
your life. Now, for the success of my counter-scheme, I must be able to
have you at hand just when I want you. That is all-important. You will
have to go to Munich in apparent compliance with their wishes for you to
be ready for the final coup, and we shall show no sign of suspicion, but
you will have trusty guards to protect you against attack. My scheme is
to let them carry off some one in your place, and for that purpose I
shall endeavor to get wind of their plan of abduction. What I wish to do
is to shut out suspicion that we have fooled them until it is too late
for them to change their plans. Is there any one among your maids whom
you could trust to personate you, who is sufficiently like you in height
and color and so on to be mistaken for you by a stranger, knowing you
only by description or having only seen you once? She would of course be
dressed to represent you, and she must be sufficiently devoted to you to
take a risk and hold her tongue."
"Yes, my dressing-maid, Marie, might pass for me under such
circumstances, and I would answer for her stanchness."
"Tell her nothing until the time is close at hand. Then let her know
what has to be done. She will wear your dress and will be carried off;
you will slip away; and I shall go in a fine rage to von Nauheim to
frighten him from getting to see his captive, and thus discover the
trick. Your present task, then, will be to get ready for that part of
the scheme, and also to think of some safe place to which you can go."
"I will willingly do more, if it will help you," she said.
The completeness of her trust in me was apparent in every word she
spoke.
"There will be plenty of exciting work to follow," I replied, with a
smile, for I was pleased by her eagerness to help. "Your Majesty may
depend upon it that a throne is not to be gained without a struggle."
"I should make a poor Queen," she answered.
"You will make a beautiful one; and if the Bavarians once get sight of
you, they will not readily let you go."
She looked at me earnestly and, with half a sigh, said:
"You should not pay me empty compliments, cousin Hans. You should not
say things you do not mean."
"Perhaps it would be truer that I must not say all I do mean," I
returned, and for the moment my eyes spoke even more than my words; and
I made haste to add, in as light a tone as I could: "Your Majesty will
have at least one devoted subject, whatever may happen."
"I believe that with all my heart," she answered, in a tone and with a
look of confidence and trust that thrilled me. Then she smiled very
slightly, and added: "Even one subject may make a kingdom; though I'm
sadly afraid I should not be the ruler of even such a realm."
I longed to turn her jest to earnest, and assure her that if she did not
no one else ever should; but I pulled myself up on the verge, and
remembered that, after all, I was an impostor, though loyal enough to
her. And so I made no reply, and dared not even look at her.
After a pause she rose, and, with what sounded like a half-suppressed
sigh, she went away.
I let her go, and it was not until she had left the room that the
thought struck me that my silence might have seemed currish and
curmudgeonly. Then I would have gone after her and told her, and I made
a step toward the door; but the thought of what I should say and how to
explain my meaning stopped me, and as I hesitated Captain von Krugen
came in to resume the conference we had commen
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