Diane of the Green Van

by Leona Dalrymple

  CHAPTER XXXI

  THE RECKONING

  The reckoning of Ronador and the Baron came by the cypress pool.

  "It is useless to rave and storm," said Tregar quietly. "I hold thecards."

  "Was it necessary to humiliate me in the presence of Miss Westfall?"demanded Ronador bitterly. With all his sullenness there was in histone a marked respect for the older man.

  "It was necessary to end this romantic masquerade!" insisted Tregar."Why are you here?"

  "I--I came in a flash of panic. It seemed to me that after all I--Icould not trust to other hands when the dead thing stirred." Ronador'sface was white and haggard. In that instant his forty-four years layheavily upon his shoulders.

  "Have I ever misplaced your trust?" reminded Tregar sombrely. "Have Inot even kept your secret from your father?"

  "Yes."

  "Then tell me," asked the Baron bluntly, "why you must come to Americaand hysterically complicate this damnable mess by--a bullet!"

  Greatly agitated, Ronador fell to pacing to and fro. Heavy cypressshadows upon the water moved like pointing fingers.

  "Is there nothing I may keep from you?" broke from him a littlebitterly.

  "Why," insisted the older man, "have you seen fit to conduct yourselfwith the irrationality of a madman by trundling a music-machine aboutthe country and making love to a girl you tried in a moment of frightand frenzy--to kill?"

  "I--I lost my head," said the Prince with an effort. "It--it seemed atfirst that she must die. The other, I thought to myself, I will leaveto Themar and the Baron. This I must do for myself. They will spareher and years hence the thing may stir again. I--I can not bear tothink of it even now, Tregar. I have paid heavily for my moment ofmadness. For nights after, I did not sleep. Even now the memory isunspeakable torture!" And Ronador admitted with stiff, white lips thatsome nameless God of Malice had made capital of his bullet, stirringhis heart into admiration for the fearless girl who had stood sogallantly by the fire in a storm-haunted wood. In the heart of theforest a happier solution had come to him and eliminated the sinisterthought of murder.

  The Baron coldly heard the passionate avowal through to the end.

  "And the Princess Phaedra?" he begged formally. "What of her? What ofthe marriage that is to dissolve the bitter feud of a century betweenHoudania and Galituria, this marriage to which already you areinformally bound?"

  "It is nothing to me. I shall marry Miss Westfall."

  "So!" The Baron matched his heavy fingertips. "So! And this isanother infernal complication of the freedom of marital choice we grantour princes!"

  "Ten years ago," flamed Ronador passionately, "you and my father pickeda wife for me! Is not that enough? Now that she is dead, I shallmarry whom I choose. Has it not occurred to you that after all it isthe sanest way out of this horrible muddle?"

  "It is one way out," admitted Tregar, "and by that way lies war withGalituria." He fell silent, plucking at his beard. "I fancy," he saidat last, "that you will not go back to the music-machine."

  "It was--and is--my only means of following her."

  "Do so again," said the Baron dryly, "and the American yellow papersshall blazon your identity to the world. 'Son of a princeregent--nephew of a king--trundles a music-machine about to win abeautiful gypsy!' And Galituria and the Princess Phaedra will readwith interest." Then he blazed suddenly with one of his infrequentoutbursts of passion, "Is it not enough to have Galituria laughing at amad king whose claim to the throne by our laws may not be invalidatedby his madness? A king so mad that the affairs of a nation must beadministered by a prince regent--your father? Must you add to all thisthe disgrace of breaking faith with Galituria and plunging your countryinto war? Your father is an old man. With but his life and the lifeof an aging madman between you and the throne, it behooves you to walkwith a full recognition of your future responsibilities. Your fatherknows you are here in America?"

  "No. There was an Arctic expedition. He thinks I have gone huntingwith that. At first I thought I could come to America and return withno one the wiser."

  "Having murdered Miss Westfall!" completed the Baron quietly.

  Ronador's face was ashen.

  "Excellency," he choked suddenly, "my little son--"

  "Yes," said Tregar with sudden kindness, "I know. Your great love andambition for the boy drove you to madness." He paused. "You are fullydecided to break faith with Phaedra, knowing what may come of it?"

  "Yes. Even if my great love for Miss Westfall did not drive me on--"

  "To indiscretion!" supplied the Baron dryly.

  "As you will. Even then, to me it is now the one way out. WithGranberry dead, with the treacherous paper in my possession--"

  "It has been burned."

  Ronador did not hear.

  "With Miss Westfall my wife," he finished, "even if the dead thingstirs again, it can make no difference."

  "Then," said the Baron formally, "I am through with it all, quitethrough. The task was never of my choosing, as you know. When thedead hand reached forth from the grave to taunt you, Ronador, I waswilling at first to stoop to unutterable things to save you--andHoudania--from dishonor, but more and more there has been distaste inmy heart for the blackness of the thing. Days back I warned you byletter that I would not see Miss Westfall coldly sacrificed for amuddle of which she knew absolutely nothing. There are things a manmay not do even for his country--one is murdering women. Now, though Ipledged myself through loyalty to my country, my king, my regent andyourself to spying and murder and petty thievery, with a consequentchain of discomfort and misunderstandings for myself, I am through andmightily glad of it!"

  "And what have you accomplished?" flamed Ronador passionately."Granberry, for all your ciphered pledges, lives and mocks me as he didtonight, as he did months back. I could kill him for the indignitieshe has heaped upon me, if for nothing else. And he knows more than youthink. What did he mean to-night?"

  "Circumstances," said Tregar coldly, "have made you unduly sensitiveand suspicious. Granberry's costume was planned maliciously as animpersonal affront to me. He knew of my plans through a telegram ofmine to Themar and made his own accordingly. It was not your past towhich he referred. Surely it is not difficult to catch his meaning?"

  "Blunders and blunders and quixotic scruples," raved Ronador, "and nowthis crowning indignity to-night! What has Themar been doing? . . .What have you done? . . . Why is Granberry still alive? Hereafter,Tregar, Themar will report to me. I personally will see that the thingis cleared up and silenced forever. I may trust at least to yoursilence?"

  "My word as a gentleman is sufficient?"

  "It is."

  "Consider me pledged to silence as I have been for a quarter of acentury."

  "Where is Themar?"

  "He is here at my command to-night after an illness of weeks. He hasbeen Granberry's prisoner. His illness alone won his release for himthrough some inconsistent whim of sympathy on the part of Granberry.He wears the garb of a gray monk."

  "Send him here."

  The Baron bowed and withdrew. At the path he turned.

  "Ronador," he said quietly, "for the sake of the lifetime friendship Ihave borne your father, for the sake of the position of honor and trustI hold in your father's court, for the sake of my great love forHoudania, let me say that when you find you are sinking deeper anddeeper into a pitfall of errors and unhappiness and treachery, I shallbe ready and willing to aid and advise you as best I may. I think Iknow you better than you know yourself. You have an inheritance ofwild passion, a nature that swayed by irresistible and fiery impulse,will for the moment dare anything and regret it with terrible sufferingever after. One such lesson you have had in early manhood. I hope youmay not rush on blindly to another. Until you come to me, however," headded with dignity, "I shall not meddle again."

  "I shall not come!" said Ronador imperiously. But the Baron was gone.

  Later, by the cypress pool,
the gray monk and the minstrel talked longand earnestly of one who knew overmuch of the affairs of both.

  "There is but one thing more," faltered Themar at the end. "I mayspeak with freedom?"

  "Yes," said Ronador impatiently, "what is it?"

  "Miss Westfall--I spied upon her camp in Connecticut--"

  "Yes?"

  "It is well to know all. For days she lived with Poynter in theforest--"

  Ronador's eyes blazed.

  "Go, go!" he cried, his face quite colorless, "for the love of God gobefore I kill you! I--I can not bear any more to-night."

  Who had scored! For Ronador, at least, in the guileful hands of atraitor who by reason of a strong maternal sympathy desired thealliance of Ronador and Princess Phaedra, there was doubt and bittersuffering. And he might not return to the music-machine.

  Themar's thin lips smiled but he wisely retreated.