The Secret of the Silver Car

by Wyndham Martyn

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  _THE SENTENCE OF BANISHMENT_

  Lord Rosecarrel who was out with the hounds that day was riding ahead ofhis daughter when she and her escort joined the field. He was a finelybuilt man and looked exceedingly well in hunting costume. He wore aclosely trimmed beard, now almost white, and seemed, so Trent thought,more than his sixty-five years. It was a fine, sensitive face, and theearl had all his days until this strange retirement mixed with the greatof the earth and taken part in the councils of nations. This mysteryconnected with his withdrawal from public affairs intrigued theAmerican. He believed Daphne knew. He was wondering what it was when theearl reined in his horse.

  "I am told you leave no later than tomorrow, Mr. Trent, I hope you willdine with us tonight."

  Anthony Trent hesitated a moment before answering.

  "Thank you," he said, "I should like to."

  He knew it would only reopen old wounds but the temptation to see Daphneagain was not to be resisted.

  It would have been a dull dinner but for the earl. Whether or not he sawDaphne's depression, the disappointment of his son and thedisinclination of the visitor to talk, he was entertaining and witty. Heasked a number of questions about the United States where his son andheir was. While he played billiards with Arthur, Trent and the girlwatched them. In truth they paid little attention to the scores orstrokes.

  It was not easy to get back to the intimacy of the morning. There was acertain reserve in the girl's manner, and a look of sadness thatimmeasurably distressed Trent.

  "Ours is a tragic family," she said, when he tried to bring her to abrighter mood. "We used to be so happy. My mother was wonderful. She isgone, my two brothers are dead, St. Just is away and my father simplypining away of a dreadful thing that wasn't his fault."

  "I wish you would tell me what it is," he said.

  "Impossible," she said decisively. "It poisons his whole life."

  "It was Arthur's fault, wasn't it?" he demanded.

  "What makes you say that?" she returned.

  "I know it," he said emphatically, "and whatever he did can be undoneand if it's humanly possible I can do it. Is someone blackmailing him?"

  He could see she was startled. He must have hit on something not farremoved from the truth.

  "Not that," she said, looking at where her father was standingapprehensively. "And I'm sure you could do nothing."

  "I can try," he said earnestly. "Listen to me, Daphne. I feel thatthere is nothing in life for me but the memory of you. I want more thananything else to do something for you to prove my love. I have nothingin all life to lose. I have no relations, no friends to speak of. Mylife has been made up of," he hesitated, "of adventures where I pittedmyself against the world and won."

  She thought of that night in Dereham. Was that one of his adventures?Certainly he had given her the impression of great strength andresolution. Of all the men she met Rudolph Castoon and Anthony Trentmost radiated this uncommon quality.

  She looked across the big room to her father. Arthur was making a bigbreak and the earl was not watching him; she knew he was not thinking ofthe game. He was thinking of that insuperable obstacle which barred himfrom the work he loved, the work in which he was needed. He looked asad, broken man and reminded Trent of the portrait of Julius the second,by Raphael, which he had seen in Florence.

  "I dare not tell," she said. "It touches big things and would involvemany names and would lead you into great peril."

  "It would not be the peril for me that you think," he insisted. "I shallknow when my hour is to strike. Darling, let me try to do something forthe woman I love, for the family where I found such happiness and suchsorrow. I have brought so much trouble on you that I want to feel I didsomething to atone."

  He felt for a fleeting moment the warm clasp of her hand.

  "You have often been in danger?" she asked.

  "It has been my life," he said simply.

  "I am afraid to tell my father," she confessed.

  "Must he know?" Trent asked.

  "Yes. I know the whole hideous thing only in the barest outline."

  "I shall broach the subject," he said confidently, "after all I havenothing to lose. I go tomorrow anyway."

  She hesitated a moment.

  "My father may think you are doing it at a price."

  "Instead of which I am offering to help you as atonement."

  The light died from her eyes and the hope left her heart. Nothing couldalter his decision, nothing apparently blot out the past that held themasunder.

  The Earl of Rosecarrel heard Anthony Trent's request for a privateinterview with a rather troubled mind. He had no doubt it had to do withhis daughter. He told himself he had been very careless.

  "By all means my dear fellow," he said cordially, "come to my librarywhere we shall be quite alone."

  Never had Trent been bidden to this great book lined chamber. It wasopen neither to those who came on visitors' day nor to the casual guest.It was here the earl and the prime minister were closeted for severalhours.

  "My lord," Trent began, "I am going to say something that will first ofall astonish you and then probably make you angry at what seemspresumption."

  "I hardly think you will do that," the other said urbanely. He was surenow it had to do with Lady Daphne.

  "You have said," Trent went on, "that you are grateful to me for my helpto your son, Arthur."

  "I am profoundly grateful," the earl said quickly, "you have made a newman of him."

  "Then promise me you will not interrupt me by ringing for a servant toshow me out."

  "I will promise that blindly," smiled the nobleman.

  "I owe a debt to your family. Arthur saved my life and I am still adebtor. Since I have been here I have found out a great deal about yourlife work. I found out also that at a moment when the Empire most neededyou you retired. I know at the present moment your name is beingmentioned everywhere as the most suitable for one of the highest officesunder the crown. I know the prime minister made a golfing trip toNewquay the excuse to call on you personally. I know that in this veryroom you refused a request from your sovereign."

  There was no doubting the agitation this statement produced in theex-ambassador. But he was mindful of his promise.

  "I know," the inexorable Trent went on, "that your refusal has somethingto do with what your son did when he was irresponsible. I saw you throwa terrible glance at him during the prime minister's talk over theluncheon table. It told me plainly that remotely or not it was becauseof something he did that you remain here eating your heart out.Afterwards you were especially kind to him. It was as though yourepented your momentary anger. My lord, am I right so far?"

  "I do not pretend to understand how you have learned these facts," theearl said slowly, "but you have made no error. What happened is over,dead and done with."

  "I'm not so sure," Trent cried. "Perhaps because there was a day when Iwrote stories of a rather lurid type I can think of half a hundredthings that might seem final to you but which would yield to my type ofmind. Nothing is final to us Americans."

  Lord Rosecarrel looked at him shrewdly.

  "What you say is preposterous, Mr. Trent, but nevertheless it interestsme. What causes could this fertile mind of yours suggest?"

  "Blackmail first of all," Trent said. Lord Rosecarrel did not give anyindication whether the shot told or not. "Blackmail can be sub-dividedinto many heads."

  "And is there a remedy for blackmail, then?" the earl asked blandly.

  "A remedy can always be found for things," Trent said confidently.

  "It amounts to this," the diplomat continued calmly as though he werediscussing an interesting phase in another man's life, "that you supposeI am held inactive here because of the hold some man or government hason me. Admitting for a moment that this is true, do you not suppose thatI should have strained every nerve, called upon my every resource toremove the obstacle which you admit has a remedy?"

  "I think you have t
ried and failed," Trent said.

  "It is curious," said the earl still impersonally, "how fiction of thetype you used to write has taken possession of the public mind."

  "I should not fail," Trent said steadily.

  "You still persist in making the imaginary real," the earl said goodhumouredly.

  "Why do you fence with me at a time like this?" Trent said making agesture of despair. "Can't you see I am in earnest?"

  "You rate your powers so highly then?"

  "You employed amateurs, my lord, I am a professional adventurer."

  "What are you doing in my house?"

  "Living honest hours and learning that a past can't be undone. I knowvery well that you thought I wanted to see you because I love yourdaughter. It is true. I do love her. And it is because I love her that Iam going. And it is because I want to prove that I am only truthful whenI say that, I offer to undertake anything that may help you."

  "But the reward?"

  "To have done something for her is the reward."

  The earl was silent for a minute. Then he paced the room. Trent watchedhis tall, bent form wondering what was to be the outcome.

  "Mr. Trent," said the earl pausing before him, "you are either ascoundrel or else the most chivalrous gentleman I have ever known. Forthe moment I hardly know what to think, or say, or do. If I give you myconfidence and you abuse it the public will share the knowledge of adisgrace which now only my enemy knows. If you set me free from mybondage you put me under an obligation that I can never pay. If I letyou make the attempt in which two men have given their lives and youfail I shall never forgive myself."

  "But my lord," Trent reminded him, "I am a professional. I have neverfailed. I detest a brawl but I love danger, and life means less to methan you might suppose. If I fail you will never be compromised. I shallwant no help nor send any plea for assistance. I work alone--always."

  The earl did not answer him directly.

  "The hounds met at Michaelstowe this morning," he said, "and I took theopportunity of sending off a wire in reply to this post card which camelast night."

  Trent looked at it. It was in a language unknown to him.

  "It is in Hungarian," Lord Rosecarrel told him, "and it says, 'Pleaselet me know that the report in today's Times that you have acceptedoffice is incorrect.' The telegram I sent to the writer said: 'Thereport is wrong. I have refused.' There you have my secret. The man whosent the post card, in effect, threatened me with exposure if I came outof retirement."

  "Then it is blackmail," Trent breathed.

  "I am going to trust you," the earl said suddenly. "I am going to thinkof you as the chivalrous gentleman. The man who wrote the post card is avery big figure in the politics of what used to be called _mittelEuropa_. Our interests clashed. He was on one side and I on the other.It happened that I was usually able to out manoeuvre him because mytraining had been such that no man in public life knew the Balkans as Idid, and do still, the wheels within wheels, the inner hidden thingsthat make national sentiment so dangerous at times or so valuable as thecase may be. In time he came to think me the one man who couldcomprehend his activities and check them. He set out to ruin me. Hebelieved his ends justified other methods than I used. I was shot at onthe _Ferencz Jozsef rakpart_ for example and a companion killed."

  "Do you still seem a menace to him?" Trent asked.

  "More than ever if I take the position offered me in the near East. Yousee the rumour in the Times brings instant recognition. I knew he was inLondon."

  Trent looked at the speaker and wondered what it could be which kept himfrom the work his country demanded of him. Assuredly it was not lack ofcourage.

  "He was in London when he obtained the hold over me that keeps me buriedhere. Arthur was at the moment a secretary of Rudolph Castoon. Onenight he opened a strong box of mine and took some bank notes to pay aracing debt. It was a terrible blow to think he had fallen so low, but Iwas more alarmed to find a tentative draft of a treaty which was nevermade effective, a document in my own writing, had disappeared. At thetime it might have incensed a country since allied with us almost to thepoint of a declaration of war. Arthur told me it was gibberish to himand he had thrown it on the fire. A month later I was summoned to acabinet meeting. A friend told me I was to be asked to produce thetreaty draft. I called Arthur to see me. I told him my honor wasinvolved and that if he had not destroyed it or was holding it to sellanother power I must know. He gave me his solemn word of honor, utteredin the most convincing manner, that he had thrown it into the open fire.

  "When the prime minister asked for the draft I told him I had destroyedit thinking its value gone and fearful of the danger of having it at myhouse in Grosvenor Place. At the moment I was absolutely convinced thatmy son had been honest with me. It was obvious I could not tell thecabinet I had caught him stealing money or that he had torn up thedraft. I gave the cabinet my word of honor that it was destroyed and Iallowed them to assume that I did it. It was a lie and I do not justifyits use, but first and foremost my son's protection seemed necessary. Itwas less than three months later that I received a visit from the manwho wrote that post card.

  "It was in Paris where I was staying with my daughter. He said that atlast he had a weapon which would wound me. Arthur had sold him thedraft. He had it concealed where none could get it. Unless I retiredfrom public life and activities he would show it to the same cabinetwhich had heard me swear I had destroyed it with my own hands. Theinference would be that I had sold it. It was known that I had lostmoney through the failure of a London bank. No matter what the cabinetthought my honor was smirched and I should rightly be considered unfitfor high office. There, Mr. Trent, is the real reason."

  "Do you know where the draft of the treaty is hidden?"

  "In his almost inaccessible castle in Croatia."

  "You are certain?"

  "Two men have died so that the knowledge might be mine."

  "I should imagine he would keep it in the deposit box of a bank where hecould get at it quickly."

  "Banks can be broken into easier far than his strong room. He lives,despite the changes wrought by the war, in a style almost feudal. Heowns and controls twenty square miles of the country where his home is.What chance, I ask you, has a stranger of getting near without incurringsuspicion. There are many men who can speak German or French likenatives but Hungarian is a different matter, a non-Aryan tongue."

  "It should be done from the inside," Trent mused.

  "One of them was," the earl told him, "the man who tried was skillful,adroit and courageous. He had flirted with death a hundred times, justas you have done Mr. Trent, but they set a trap for him there which afool would have passed by; a trap so skillfully baited that only aclever man would have tried to use it to further his cause. Yet hefailed. You have no idea of the household at that fantastic castle inthe mountains. You have no idea of the imperious temper and power of theman who owns it, the multitude of servitors who would kill did he butsuggest it, the motley company he entertains there."

  This mention of many visitors interested Trent.

  "He entertains a great deal then?"

  "Only those he knows, men and women. The life there as reported to mereads like a chronicle of medieval days."

  "The other man who failed--what did he go as?"

  "A steeple chase jockey. The count kept a great stud and raced all overContinental Europe. He owned Daliborka the great horse which won the_Grand Prix_."

  "The horse that was stolen?"

  "Exactly. Daliborka and three other thoroughbreds were missing from thestables. The man who pretended to be a jockey and was instead a man oflineage and wealth secreted the horses at intervals along the forestroad that runs from the castle to the coast. It was his idea when he hadobtained the draft to make his way by relays to the nearest harbour.The poor fellows never had the opportunity to throw a leg across any ofthem. You see, Mr. Trent, there is no chance at all."

  "I will make one," the American said confidently, "I am
going to enjoythis."

  "After what I have said you still persist?"

  "Because of it," laughed Anthony Trent. He had forgotten everything butthe prospect of coming danger, the duel that was to be fought betweenhim and this fabulous magnate. It was characteristic of Trent that heswept aside all other possible inmates of the lonely castle as beneathhis notice. His business was with the superior.

  "How do you know he is still in London?" Trent demanded.

  "I keep myself informed," the earl said. "A newspaper clipping concernsends me every notice of him."

  "I want them," the younger man observed, "I want everything that willhelp me."

  He read through the brief notices eagerly and wished English papersdiscussed personalities with the detail American periodicals employed.The only item that interested him deeply was a notice that Count MichaelTemesvar had visited the automobile show at the Crystal Palace andseemed interested in the new twelve cylinder Lion car.

  "Rather humorous in its way," the earl said smiling, "since I own agreat deal of stock in that company. That's why I have thatinordinately high powered car in the garage which you and Arthur seemto like."

  "Humorous!" Trent repeated, "I don't know that it isn't more humorousthan you know. Do you think he has any idea you are interested in thecompany?"

  "Few know it," the earl said, "and I don't see why he should when evenmy friends are ignorant."

  "How much of it do you own?" Trent asked eagerly.

  "More probably than any one stockholder."

  "And a letter from you to the manager would make me solid." He explainedthe slang, "I mean if you wrote a letter to the manager asking that I begiven certain powers would he honor it?"

  "Most certainly," the earl answered. "There can be no doubt about it."