Truxton King: A Story of Graustark

by George Barr McCutcheon

  CHAPTER VIII

  LOOKING FOR AN EYE

  "Washing the dead men's bones," was the remark King made a few minuteslater. The storm was at its height; the sheets of rain that swept downthe pebbly glen elicited the gruesome sentence. He stood directly behindthe quaking Loraine, quite close to the open door; there is no doubtthat the observation was intended for her ears, maliciously orotherwise.

  She gave him an awed glance, but no verbal response. It was readily tobe seen that she was terrified by the violence of the mountain tornado.As if to shame him for the frivolous remark, she suddenly changed herposition, putting herself behind him.

  "I like that," he remonstrated, emboldened by the elements. "You leaveme in front to be struck by the first bolt of lightning that comesalong. And I a stranger, too."

  "Isn't it awful?" she murmured, her fingers in her ears, her eyestightly closed. "Do you think we'll be struck?"

  "Certainly not," he assured her. "This is a charmed spot. It's a frolicof her particular devils. She waves her hand: all the goblins andthunder-workers in this neck of the woods hustle up to see what's thematter. Then there's an awful rumpus. In a minute or two she'll wave herhand and--presto! It will stop raining. But," with a distressed look outinto the thick of it, "it would be a beastly joke if lightning shouldhappen to strike that nag of mine. I'd not only have to walk to town,but I'd have to pay three prices for the brute."

  "I think she's perfectly--ooh!--perfectly wonderful. Goodness, that wasa crash! Where do you think it struck?"

  "If you'll stand over here a little closer I'll point out the tree. See?Right down the ravine there? See the big limb swaying? That's the place.The old lady is carrying her joke too far. That's pretty close home.Stand right there, please. I won't let it rain in on you."

  "You are very good, Mr. King. I--I've always thought I loved a storm.Ooh! But this is too terrible! Aren't you really afraid you'll bestruck? Thanks, ever so much." He had squared himself between her andthe door, turning his back upon the storm: but not through cowardice, asone might suppose.

  "Don't mention it. I won't mind it so much, don't you know, if I getstruck in the back. How long ago did you say it was that you went toschool with my sister?"

  All this time the Witch was haranguing her huddled audience, cursing thesoldiers, laughing gleefully in the faces of her stately, scornfulguests, greatly to the irritation of Baron Dangloss, toward whom sheshowed an especial attention.

  Tullis was holding the Prince in his arms. Colonel Quinnox stood beforethem, keeping the babbling, leering beldame from thrusting her faceclose to that of the terrified boy. Young Vos Engo glowered at TruxtonKing from the opposite side of the room. Mr. Hobbs had safely ensconcedhimself in the rear of the six guardsmen, who stood near the door, readyto dash forth if by any chance the terrified horses should succeed inbreaking away.

  The Countess Marlanx, pale and rigid, her wondrous eyes glowing withexcitement, stood behind John Tullis, straight and strong, like a stormspirit glorying in the havoc that raged about her. Time and again sheleaned forward to utter words of encouragement in the ear of the littlePrince, never without receiving a look of gratitude and surprise fromhis tall protector.

  And all this time the goose-herd grandson of the Witch was dancing hiswild, uncanny solo in the thick of the brew, an exalted grin on hisface, strange cries of delight breaking from his lips: a horridspectacle that fascinated the observers.

  With incredible swiftness the storm passed. Almost at its height, therecame a cessation of the roaring tempest; the downpour was checked, thethunder died away and the lightning trickled off into faint flashes. Thesky cleared as if by magic. The exhibition, if you please, was over!

  Even the most stoical, unimpressionable men in the party looked at eachother in bewilderment and--awe, there was no doubt of it. The glare thatDangloss bent upon the hag proved that he had been rudely shaken fromhis habitual complacency.

  "It is the most amazing thing I've ever seen," he said, over and overagain.

  The Countess Marlanx was trembling violently. Tullis, observing this,tried to laugh away her nervousness.

  "Mere coincidence, that's all," he said. "Surely you are notsuperstitious. You can't believe she brought about this storm?"

  "It isn't that," she said in a low voice. "I feel as if a grave personaldanger had just passed me by. Not danger for the rest of you, but for mealone. That is the sensation I have: the feeling of one who has steppedback from the brink of an abyss just in time to avoid being pushed over.I can't make you understand. See! I am trembling. I have seen no morethan the rest of you, yet am more terrified, more upset than Robin,poor child. Perhaps I am foolish. I _know_ that something dreadfulhas--I might say, touched me. Something that no one else could have seenor felt."

  "Nerves, my dear Countess. Shadows! I used to see them and feel themwhen I was a lad no bigger than Bobby if left alone in the dark. It is agrown-up fear of goblins. You'll be over it as soon as we are outside."

  Ten minutes later the cavalcade started down the rain-swept road towardthe city, dry blankets having been placed across the saddles occupied bythe ladies and the Prince. The Witch stood in her doorway, laughinggleefully, inviting them to come often.

  "Come again, your Highness," she croaked sarcastically.

  "The next time I come, it will be with a torch to burn you alive!"shouted back Dangloss. To Tullis he added: "'Gad, sir, they did well toburn witches in your town of Salem. You cleared the country of them, thepests."

  Darkness was approaching fast among the sombre hills; the great pass wasenveloped in the mists and the gloaming of early night. In a compactbody the guardsmen rode close about Prince Robin and his friend.Ingomede had urged this upon Tullis, still oppressed by the feeling ofdisaster that had come over her in the hovel.

  "It means something, my friend, it means something," she insisted. "Ifeel it--I am sure of it." Riding quite close beside him, she added inlower tones: "I was with my husband no longer ago than yesterday. Do youknow that I believe it is Count Marlanx that I feel everywhere about menow? _He_--his presence--is in the air! Oh, I wish I could make you feelas I do."

  "You haven't told me why you ran away on Sunday," he said, abruptly,dismissing her argument with small ceremony.

  "He sent for me. I--I had to go." There was a new, strange expression inher eyes that puzzled him for a long time. Suddenly the solution came:she was completely captive to the will of this hated husband. Therealisation brought a distinct, sickening shock with it.

  Down through the lowering shades rode the Prince's party, swiftly, evengaily by virtue of relaxation from the strain of a weird half hour. Noone revealed the slightest sign of apprehension arising from themysterious demonstration in which nature had taken a hand.

  Truxton King was holding forth, with cynical good humour, for thebenefit, if not the edification of Baron Dangloss, with whom herode--Mr. Hobbs galloping behind not unlike the faithful Sancho ofanother Quixote's day.

  "It's all tommy-rot, Baron," said Truxton. "We've got a dozen stagewizards in New York who can do all she did and then some. That smokefrom the kettle is a corking good trick--but that's all it is, take myword for it. The storm? Why, you know as well as I do, Baron, that shecan't bring rain like that. If she could, they'd have her over in theUnited States right now, saving the crops, with or without water. Thatwas chance. Hobbs told me this morning it looked like rain. By the way,I must apologise to him. I said he was a crazy kill-joy. The thing thatpuzzles me is what became of the owner of that eye. I'll stake my lifeon it, I saw an eye. 'Gad, it looked right into mine. Queerest feelingit gave me."

  "Ah, that's it, my young friend. What became of the eye? Poof! And it isgone. We searched immediately. No sign. It is most extraordinary."

  "I'll admit it's rather gruesome, but--I say, do you know I've a mind tolook into that matter if you don't object, Baron. It's a game of somesort. She's a wily old dame, but I think if we go about it right we cancatch her napping and expose the whole game. I'm going
back there in aday or two and try to get at the bottom of it. That confounded eyeworries me. She's laughing up her sleeve at us, too, you know."

  "I should advise you to keep away from her, my friend. Granted she hastricked us: why not? It is her trade. She does no harm--except thatshe's most offensively impudent. And I rather imagine she'll resent yourinvestigation, if you attempt it. I can't say that I'd blame her." TheBaron laughed.

  "Baron, it struck me a bit shivery at the time, but I want to say to younow that the eye that I saw at the crack was not that of an idle peeper,nor was it a mere fakir's substitute. It was as malevolent as the deviland it glared--do you understand? Glared! It didn't _peep!_"

  Truxton King, for reasons best known to himself, soon relapsed into athoughtful, contemplative silence. Between us, he was sorely vexed anddisappointed. When the gallant start was made from the glen of "deadmen's bones," he found that he was to be cast utterly aside, quitecompletely ignored by the fair Loraine. She rode off with young CountVos Engo without so much as a friendly wave of the hand to him. He saidit over to himself several times: "not even a friendly wave of herhand." It was as if she had forgotten his existence, or--mercifulPowers! What was worse--as if she took this way of showing him hisplace. Of course, that being her attitude, he glumly found hisplace--which turned out rather ironically to be under the eye of apolice officer--and made up his mind that he would stay there.

  Vos Engo, being an officer in the Royal Guard, rode ahead by order ofColonel Quinnox. Truxton, therefore, had her back in view--at rather avexing distance, too--for mile after mile of the ride to the city. Notso far ahead, however, that he could not observe every movement of herlight, graceful figure as she swept down the King's Highway. She was aperfect horsewoman, firm, jaunty, free. Somehow he knew, without seeing,that a stray brown wisp of hair caressed her face with insistentadoration: he could see her hand go up from time to time to brush itback--just as if it were not a happy place for a wisp of hair.Perhaps--he shivered with the thought of it--perhaps it even caressedher lips. Ah, who would not be a wisp of brown hair!

  He galloped along beside the Baron, a prey to gloomy considerations.What was the use? He had no chance to win her. That was for story-booksand plays. She belonged to another world--far above his. And even beyondthat, she was not likely to be attracted by such a rude, ungainly,sunburned lout as he, with such chaps about as Vos Engo, or thatwhat's-his-name fellow, or a dozen others whom he had seen. Confound itall, she was meant for a prince, or an archduke. What chance had he?

  But she was the loveliest creature he had ever seen. Yes; she was thegolden girl of his dreams. Within his grasp, so to speak, and yet hecould not hope to seize her, after all. Was she meant for that popinjayyouth with the petulant eye and the sullen jaw? Was he to be the luckyman, this Vos Engo?

  The Baron's dry, insinuating voice broke in upon the young man'sthoughts. "I think it's pretty well understood that she's going tomarry him." The little old minister had been reading King's thoughts; hehad the satisfaction of seeing his victim start guiltily. It was on thetip of Truxton's tongue to blurt out: "How the devil did you know what Iwas thinking about?" But he managed to control himself, asking instead,with bland interest:

  "Indeed? Is it a good match, Baron?"

  The Baron smiled. "I think so. He has been a trifle wild, but I believehe has settled down. Splendid family. He is desperately in love, as youmay have noted."

  "I hadn't thought much about it. Is she in love with him?"

  "She sees a great deal of him," was the diplomatic answer.

  Truxton considered well for a minute or two, and then bluntly asked:

  "Would you mind telling me just who she is, Baron? What is her name?"

  Dangloss was truly startled. He gave the young man a quick, penetratingglance; then a set, hard expression came into his eyes.

  "Do you mean, sir, that you don't know her?" he asked, almost harshly.

  "I don't know her name."

  "And you had the effrontery to--My excellent friend, you amaze me. Ican't believe it of you. Why, sir, how dare you say this to me? I knowthat Americans are bold, but, by gad, sir, I've always looked upon themas gentlemen. You--"

  "Hold on, Baron Dangloss," interrupted Truxton, very red in the face."Don't say it, please. You'd better hear my side of the story first. Shewent to school with my sister. She knows me, but, confound it, sir, sherefuses to tell me who she is. Do you think that is fair? Now, I'lltell you how it came about." He related the story of the goldfish andthe pinhook. The Baron smiled comfortably to himself, a sphinx-likeexpression coming into his beady eyes as he stared steadily on ahead;her trim grey back seemed to encourage his admiring smile.

  "Well, my boy, if she elects to keep you in the dark concerning hername, it is not for me to betray her," he said at the end of therecital. "Ladies in her position, I dare say, enjoy these littlemysteries. If she wants you to know, she'll tell you. Perhaps it wouldbe well for you to be properly, officially presented to her hi--to theyoung lady. Your countryman, Mr. Tullis, will be glad to do so, I fancy.But let me suggest: don't permit your ingenuousness to get the better ofyou again. She's having sport with you on account of it. We all know herpropensities."

  It was dusk when they entered the northern gates. Above the Castle, Kingsaid good-bye to Tullis and the Countess, gravely saluted the sleepyPrince, and followed Mr. Hobbs off to the heart of the city. He was hotwith resentment. Either she had forgotten to say good-bye to him or hadwilfully decided to ignore him altogether; at any rate, she entered thegates to the Castle grounds without so much as an indifferent glance inhis direction.

  Truxton knew in advance that he was to have a sleepless, unhappy night.

  In his room at the hotel he found the second anonymous letter,unquestionably from the same source, but this time printed in crude,stilted letters. It had been stuck under the door, together with someletters that had been forwarded from Teheran.

  "_Leave the city at once. You are in great danger. Save yourself_!"

  This time he did not laugh. That it was from Olga Platanova he made nodoubt. But why she should interest herself so persistently in hiswelfare was quite beyond him, knowing as he did that in no sense had heappealed to her susceptibility. And what, after all, could she mean by"great danger"? "Save yourself!" He sat for a long time considering thesituation. At last he struck the window sill a resounding thwack withhis fist and announced his decision to the silent, disinterested wallopposite.

  "I'll take her advice. I'll get out. Not because I'm afraid to stay, butbecause there's no use. She's got no eyes for me. I'm a plainimpossibility so far as she's concerned. It's Vos Engo--damn little rat!Old Dangloss came within an ace of speaking of her as 'her Highness.'That's enough for me. That means she's a princess. It's all very nice innovels, but in real life men don't go about picking up any princess theyhappen to like. No, sir! I might just as well get out while I can. Shetreated me as if I were a yellow dog to-day--after I'd been damnedagreeable to her, too, standing between her and the lightning. I mighthave been struck. I wonder if she would have been grateful. No; shewouldn't. She'd have smiled her sweetest, and said: "wasn't it lucky?"

  He picked up the note once more. "If I were a storybook hero, I'd stickthis thing in my pocket and set out by myself to unravel the mysterybehind it. But I've chucked the hero job for good and all. I'm going tohand this over to Dangloss. It's the sensible thing to do, even if itisn't what a would-be hero in search of a princess aught to do. What'smore, I'll hunt the Baron up this very hour. Hope it doesn't get Olgainto trouble."

  He indulged in another long spell of thoughtfulness. "No, by George,I'll not turn tail at the first sign of danger. I'll stay here andassist Dangloss in unravelling this matter. And I'll go up to thatWitch's hole before I'm a day older to have it out with her. I'll findout where the smoke came from and I'll know where that eye went to." Hesighed without knowing it. "By Jove, I'd like to do something to showher I'm not the blooming duffer she thinks I am."

  He could
not find Baron Dangloss that night, nor early the next day.Hobbs, after being stigmatised as the only British coward in the world,changed his mind and made ready to accompany King to the hovel inGanlook Gap.

  By noon the streets in the vicinity of the Plaza were filled withstrange, rough-looking men, undeniably labourers.

  "Who are they?" demanded King, as they rode past a particularly sullen,forbidding crowd at the corner below the city hail.

  "There's a strike on among the men who are building the railroad," saidHobbs. "Ugly looking crowd, eh?"

  "A strike? 'Gad, it's positively homelike."

  "I heard a bit ago that the matter has been adjusted. They go back towork to-morrow, slight increase in pay and a big decrease in work. Theywere to have had their answer to-day. Mr. Tullis, I hear, wasinstrumental in having the business settled without a row."

  "They'd better look out for these fellows," said King, very soberly. "Idon't like the appearance of 'em. They look like cut-throats."

  "Take my word for it, sir, they are. They're the riff-raff of allEurope. You should have seen them of a Sunday, sir, before the orderwent out closing the drinking places on that day. My word, they took thetown. There was no living here for the decent people. Women couldn't goout of their houses."

  "I hope Baron Dangloss knows how to handle them?" in some anxiety. "Bythe way, remind me to look up the Baron just as soon as we get back totown this evening."

  "If we ever get back!" muttered the unhappy Mr. Hobbs. Propheticlamentation!

  In due time they rode into the sombre solitudes of Ganlook Gap and up tothe Witch's glen. Here Mr. Hobbs balked. He refused to adventure fartherthan the mouth of the stony ravine. Truxton approached the hovel alone,without the slightest trepidation. The goose-herd grandson was driving aflock of geese across the green bowl below the cabin. The Americancalled out to him and a moment later the youth, considerably excited,drove his geese up to the door. He could understand no English, norcould Truxton make out what he was saying in the native tongue. Whilethey were vainly haranguing each other the old woman appeared at theedge of the thicket above the hut. Uttering shrill exclamations, shehurried down to confront King with blazing eyes. He fell back,momentarily dismayed. Her horrid grin of derision brought a flush to hischeek; he faced her quite coolly.

  "I'll lay you a hundred gavvos that the kettle and smoke experiment is afake of the worst sort," he announced, after a somewhat lengthy appealto be allowed to enter the hut as a simple seeker after knowledge.

  "Have it your own way! Have it your own way!" she cackled.

  "Tell you what I'll do; if I can't expose that trick in ten minutes,I'll make you a present of a hundred gavvos."

  She took him up like a flash, a fact which startled and disconcerted himnot a little. Her very eagerness augured ill for his proposition. Still,he was in for it; he was determined to get inside the hut and solve themystery, if it were possible. Exposure of the Witch would at leastattract the interest if not the approval of a certain young lady inpurple and fine linen. That was surely worth while.

  With a low, mocking bow, the shrivelled hag stood aside and motioned forhim to precede her into the hovel. He looked back at Mr. Hobbs. Thatgentleman's eyes seemed to be starting from his head.

  "A hundred gavvos is a fortune not easily to be won," said the old dame."How can I be sure that you will pay me if you lose?"

  "It is in my pocket, madam. If I don't pay, you may instruct yourexcellent grandson to crack me over the head. He looks as though he'd doit for a good deal less money, I'll say that for him."

  "He is honest--as honest as his grandmother," cried the old woman. Shebestowed a toothless grin upon him. "Now what is it you want to do?"

  They were standing in the centre of the wretched living-room. Thegoose-boy was in the door, looking on with strangely alert, questioningeyes, ever and anon peering over his shoulder toward the spot whereHobbs stood with the horses. He seldom took his gaze from the face ofthe old woman, a rat-like smile touching the corners of his fuzz-linedlips.

  "I want to go through that kitchen, just to satisfy myself of one or twothings." King was looking hard at the crack in the kitchen door.Suddenly he started as if shot.

  The staring, burning eye was again looking straight at him from thejagged crack in the door!

  "I'll get you this time," he shouted, crossing the room in two eagerleaps. The door responded instantly to his violent clutch, swung openwith a bang, and disclosed the interior of the queer little kitchen.

  The owner of that mocking, phantom eye was gone!

  Like a frantic dog, Truxton dashed about the little kitchen, looking inevery corner, every crack for signs of the thing he chased. At last hepaused, baffled, mystified. The old woman was standing in the middle ofthe outer room, grinning at him with what was meant for complacency, butwhich struck him at once as genuine malevolence.

  "Ha, ha!" she croaked. "You fool! You fool! Search! Smell him out! Allthe good it will do you! Ha, ha!"

  "By gad, I _will_ get at the bottom of this!" shouted Truxton, stubbornrage possessing him. "There's some one here, and I know it. I'm not sucha fool as to believe--Say! What's that? The ceiling! By the eternal,that scraping noise explains it! There's where the secret trap-dooris--in the ceiling! Within arm's reach, at that! Watch me, old woman!I'll have your spry friend out of his nest in the shake of a lamb'stail."

  The hag was standing in the kitchen door now, still grinning evilly. Shewatched the eager young man pound upon the low ceiling with athree-legged stool that he had seized from the floor.

  "I don't see how he got up there so quickly, though. He must be likegreased lightning."

  He was pounding vigorously on the roughly boarded ceiling when thesharp voice of the old woman, raised in command, caused him to lower thestool and turn upon her with gleaming, triumphant eyes. The look he sawin her face was sufficient to check his enterprise for the moment. Hedropped the stool and started toward her, his arms extended to catch herswaying form. The look of the dying was in her eyes; she seemed to becrumpling before him.

  He reached her in time, his strong arms grasping the frail, bent figureas it sank to the floor. As he lifted her bodily from her feet, intentupon carrying her to the open air, her bony fingers sank into his armwith the grip of death, and--could he believe his ears!--a low, mockinglaugh came from her lips.

  Down where the pebbly house-yard merged into the mossy banks, Mr. Hobbssat tight, still staring with gloomy eyes at the dark little hut up theglen. His sturdy knees were pressing the skirts of the saddle with afirmness that left no room for doubt as to the tension his nerves wereunder. Now and then he murmured "My word!" but in what connection it isdoubtful if even he could tell. A quarter of an hour had passed sinceKing disappeared through the doorway: Mr. Hobbs was getting nervous.

  The shiftless, lanky goose-herd came forth in time, and lazily drove hisscattered flock off into the lower glen.

  The horses were becoming impatient. To his extreme discomfort, not tosay apprehension, they were constantly pricking their ears forward andsnorting in the direction of the hovel; a very puzzling circumstance,thought Mr. Hobbs. At this point he began to say "dammit," and with somesense of appreciation, too.

  Presently his eye caught sight of a thin stream of smoke, rather blackthan blue, arising from the little chimney at the rear of the cabin.His eyes flew very wide open; his heart experienced a sudden throblessmoment; his mind leaped backward to the unexplained smoke mystery of theday before. It was on the end of his tongue to cry out to his unseenpatron, to urge him to leave the Witch to her deviltry and come alonghome, when the old woman herself appeared in the doorway--alone.

  She sat down upon the doorstep, pulling away at a long pipe, her hoodedface almost invisible from the distance which he resolutely held. Hefelt that she was eyeing him with grim interest. For a few minutes hewaited, a sickening doubt growing up in his soul. A single glance showedhim that the chimney was no longer emitting smoke. It seemed to him thatthe old woman was losing al
l semblance of life. She was no more than ablack, inanimate heap of rags piled against the door-jamb.

  Hobbs let out a shout. The horses plunged viciously. Slowly the bundleof rags took shape. The old woman arose and hobbled toward him, leaningupon a great cane.

  "Whe--where's Mr. King?" called out Hobbs.

  She stopped above him and he could see her face. Mr. Hobbs was chilledto the bone. Her arm was raised, a bony finger pointing to the treetopsabove her hovel.

  "He's gone. Didn't you see him? He went off among the treetops. Youwon't see him again." She waited a moment, and then went on, in mostingratiating tones: "Would you care to come into my house? I can showyou the road he took. You--"

  But Mr. Hobbs, his hair on end, had dropped the rein of King's horse andwas putting boot to his own beast, whirling frantically into the paththat led away from the hated, damned spot! Down the road he crashed,pursued by witches whose persistence put to shame the efforts of thosefamed ladies of Tam O'Shanter in the long ago; if he had looked over hisshoulder, he might have discovered that he was followed by a riderlesshorse, nothing more.

  But a riderless horse is a gruesome thing--sometimes.