CHAPTER TWELVE
_SAINT ANTHONY_
Count Michael returned to his castle after Trent had been for fifteendays a prisoner.
The prince and his suite were now safely hidden in a far Carpathianretreat and there was no evidence in Castle Radna of their occupancy. Ithad been a dreadful moment when Count Temesvar found himself tied to atree and his plans in danger of disclosure to his enemies. He had noopportunity of knowing as yet to what use Alfred Anthony had put hisknowledge.
The London papers told him only that Lord Rosecarrel was the newSecretary of State for Foreign Affairs and was already making friendswith the Balkans and cementing an ancient alliance with Greece. That wasbad enough in all conscience. But if it were known that he had hidden aprince whose only use to him would be the furtherance of his politicalambitions he would be denounced by the government under which he lived.
The easy going, pleasure loving and almost amiable side of CountMichael's nature was for the moment put aside. The man who took pride inhis swift travelling Lion and his occasional long drive at golf wasbanished by the need of the moment for possessing certain and whollyaccurate knowledge of what Alfred Anthony was and what he had done.
Anthony Trent when he was brought before the count saw this at a glance.He was Francis the First in his arbitrary moods, the mood that made thatversatile monarch sweep friends to destruction and visit wrath on themwho had offended.
He was led, manacled, between Peter Sissek and old Ferencz and broughtto the big room in which the Chubbwood safe was placed. Hentzi hoverednervously in the background.
"I have sent for you," Count Michael said, "so that you may have theopportunity of making a confession."
"It is thoughtful of you," Trent told him, "but I have no confession tomake. I have some complaints however. I dislike my present quarters.They are verminous and draughty."
"Is it possible," the count said slowly, "that you fail to understandyour position?"
"What is my position?" Anthony Trent countered.
"You are a nameless prisoner absolutely in my power. There is none inthe outer world to help you. Those other two who came told me as much.They were sworn not to ask mercy of me or help of my lord Rosecarrel."
"The cases are not parallel," Trent returned equably, "They asked nomercy of you. I don't either. They did not expect help of--what was thename you mentioned?"
"The man for whom you risk death is the Earl of Rosecarrel. He cannotaid you."
Trent shook his head.
"Never heard of him. I wonder what put it into your brain that I had anydefinite plans in coming here except to get a position which you forcedon me."
"Why did you take a certain document from my pocket and leave muchmoney? No, no. It is idle to fence. I have learnt from London that youwere only in the Lion factory a few days and that previously nothing wasknown of you. You are not a mechanic; that is plain. You came for acertain political document worth in money--nothing. You took it. Now,sir, where is it?"
There was no doubting the count's eagerness or Anthony Trent'sastonishment. The count had not recovered the treaty. So far as Trentremembered the envelope was in his coat pocket, the same coat he hadtaken off among the hay and made a pillow for his head. He assumed,naturally, that when he was roughly dragged from slumber his clotheswere searched. A light of triumph came into his eyes at the thought thatit did not repose behind those inviolate doors of steel. But it wasamazing that the heap of hay had not been disturbed. He supposed it wasbecause of the week of almost continuous rain.
"Where is it?" Count Michael repeated.
"When I saw it was of no value," Trent said, sticking to his chauffeurrole, "I burned it."
"For the moment we will assume that you speak the truth. Now, how is ityou made the mistake of supposing that I had here certain guests of highdegree?"
"Just a guess," Trent said calmly, "Wasn't I right? Remember I had tobring them up from Fiume. I saw coronets on dressing cases and from theway Hentzi bowed and scraped I imagined they were at least royalties indisguise."
"You said," Count Michael insisted, "'Give my love to the prince.' Youcould only have meant one particular personage. You did not speak ingeneralities you particularized. You said 'The prince.' I warn you youdo not help yourself by denials. I am not a patient man. The world knowsthat. Here in my castle of Radna I am supreme. I have not chosen myservants idly. They are committed to me and my cause absolutely. OldFerencz there would die for me or mine. It is the tradition of loyaltyborn in him. So with the others. You are surrounded here with those whoregard you as my enemy. How can I chide them if, knowing their lord isin peril, they seek to remove it?"
"First and second murderers," Trent commented.
"Executioners," the count corrected.
"It makes no difference what you call them," Trent exclaimed.
"I am glad you look at it in that light," Count Michael said, "It doesnot make any difference as you will see. I shall convince you of that byrelating the sad accident which befell your friend Captain theHonourable Oswald Hardcastle, formerly of the Royal Dragoons."
"My friend?" Trent exclaimed.
"Certainly," the count returned, "Lord Rosecarrel's military attache atConstantinople. Your innocence amuses me. You no doubt know that I ownedthat great horse Daliborka a winner of the Grand Prix. I wasdissatisfied with my trainer and asked friends at the Jockey Club inParis to recommend me someone. Captain Hardcastle disguised himself muchas you have done. He was no longer an aristocrat, an officer of a greatregiment, but a trainer who was an ex-jockey. He was a good trainer anda great horseman. Daliborka's time trials were marvelous. I entered himfor the great races in England. My new trainer was so jealous of hishorse he would have no strangers near and none was allowed to follow himin his rides through the grass meadows." Count Michael laughed softly,"Yes, I was deceived, made a fool of, as you have it but I can confessit as I do in your case with the satisfaction that the last laugh, thelast trick will be mine. It was my laugh at the last with CaptainHardcastle. You are interested?"
"I was in Paris when Daliborka won," Trent said. "I made money on him.Most certainly I'm interested."
"Captain Hardcastle wished for the document which you say you havedestroyed. He obtained it. He did not seek to escape as you have donedown the main roads. No. No. He had studied the country profoundly withall the topographical knowledge gained at the Staff College. He had suchcomplete charge of my large stables that none questioned his right to doas he chose and I was too busy at the time even to see him. He plannedhis route carefully. He found out a path to the sea where there wouldwait him a yacht. It was, oddly enough, the same steam yacht in which mylord Rosecarrel makes his cruises. At intervals he placed my horses,horses he had trained for steeple chases. But the first stretch of thejourney, ten miles of velvet turf he had planned to ride Daliborka. Itis sufficient to tell you that we knew his plans in time. He was tostart at midnight. It happened that I passed his quarters at half pasteleven and detained him in talk, talk that gave him no uneasiness."
"Then, thinking I was safely here he rushed to the little outbuildingwhere my great black horse was saddled. He sprang to its back quickly.And as he did so we lit a torch so that he might see how we laughedlast. It was a black horse indeed, but a work horse, a slow placid beastwhich we had substituted. I have never seen real despair seize on abrave man as it did when he saw he had failed. I enjoyed it very muchArlfrit.
"The stable hands who had always resented his iron discipline, thediscipline of the soldier, took their vengeance of him in my absence.They are rough, these brave fellows of mine, and do not know theirstrength."
"You mean," Trent snapped, "you let them murder a man who was probablytied as I am tied now?"
Count Michael shrugged his shoulders.
"A man who puts his head in the lion's den must not complain if the lionbe hungry. This is my house and I do not welcome thieves. Then there wasSir Piers Edgcomb. I was never sure of him. A big man, slow of movementand who
spoke German so well I believed him to be of Bavaria. He was mybutler. These country bred servants of mine do well enough in mostthings but the niceties of table service as I see in your own countryare beyond them.
"A butler who has to take charge of much valuable plate and old,precious glass should at least be able to clean them. This man--hecalled himself Peters knew nothing of these things. So I set traps forhim. He had a wolf's cunning. But a wise hunter can snare a wolf and Isnared him. I did not bring you here to tell you of them so that youmight be entertained. I brought you here to tell you that they whoplotted, failed and died for their cause. You, who have succeeded andhave injured me are my captive just as they were."
"Well?" Anthony Trent said, "What of it?"
"Simply this. You say you have burned the document. That might be trueor untrue. It is possible you have concealed it in some place where Icould recover it only after long search. I shall give you a day to makeup your mind to speak the whole truth."
"And after that?"
"You will be glad to tell what you know," Count Michael said grimly."Your death will be but a poor triumph to me; that I am willing toadmit, but it is the greatest loss that can befall you."
"You are trying to make a bargain with me?"
"Perhaps. I will say at least that if the document is procured AlfredAnthony would be free to return to London on one condition."
"Which is?"
"That he gave me his word of honor to forget every face and name he hadseen or heard in Castle Radna. Under the circumstances I could allowmyself to be so generous but I should require the most solemn of oaths."The count leaned forward a little and spoke impressively. "Rememberagain, that your death will be but poor consolation for me yet it is themost terrible thing that can happen to you."
"I'm not so sure," Anthony Trent muttered.
In that moment there was stripped from him the cunning and audacity thatsuccess in crime had brought. Often he had seen himself in amelodramatic almost heroic light, laughing at the nice distinctions ofwrong and right, stretching out his hand to take what he wanted andcaring nothing for the judgments of men. With the egocentricity of thesuccessful criminal he had felt himself superior to all his opponentsand had seen himself in future performing such exploits as none haddared to do.
His months at Castle Radna had been very dull. The plentiful food wascoarse; his companions boors; of music he had heard not a note. He wasanxious to be back again among people he liked. Such a chance wasoffered him now. He believed if he gave his solemn word that thecount--in order to retain his hold on Lord Rosecarrel--would give himsafe conduct to Fiume.
Yet he was amazed to find that he would not accept Count Michael's offer.Rather than tell him the truth about the document and so bring disasteragain on the family of the woman he loved he was content to give up hislife. Perhaps there was another reason which brought him to this way ofthinking also. Daphne was not for him. That, long ago, he had realized.Life without Daphne! Dreary days that would hold no joy lengthening intomonths and years of heart hunger and at last into dissatisfied old age.He was brought back from his thoughts by the count's voice.
"Of what are you not sure? That I shall not keep my word?"
"I'm not sure that I shall give mine," Trent answered.
"You will have a day and a night to think it over. I shall find you in amore reasonable mood when I see you again. But remember this. Aftertomorrow there will be no other opportunity. I am not a patient man andI am holding back my anger with difficulty. I do not relish being sickof chagrin."
Anthony Trent held up his manacled hands.
"This is a sporting way of doing things, isn't it?" he exclaimed.
"Until tomorrow," Count Michael smiled.
It was dark when the prisoner reached his cell. An oil lamp lit the bareroom. It was hung on a nail in the little cage out of reach of anyoccupant of the stone chamber.
Peter Sissek and old Ferencz had brought him to his prison. They offeredhim no violence. Evidently they were acting under orders. The count hadmade no comment on the bruises that still discoloured the American'sface.
He had been sitting an hour on the edge of his cot when the outer dooropened. Trent did not even look up. It was at this hour unappetizingfood was brought and thrust under the cage, food he could pick atclumsily with his hands in iron bracelets.
Hearing no grating sound of heavy plate being pushed over the unevenfloor he looked up. Pauline stood in the cage with Hentzi. The latterwas obviously nervous and alarmed. He looked about him in dread andlistened unhappily for sounds that might indicate the coming of othersalong the flagged passage.
"Open the gate," Pauline commanded, pointing to the steel barrier.
"If the count should hear of it!" he wailed.
"I will bear the blame," she said. "Be quick."
"You must be but five minutes," he insisted.
"I shall take ten," she retorted.
Wringing his hands Hentzi, the prey of many apprehensions, left heralone with the prisoner. It chanced that Pauline was aware of some pettythefts on the secretary's part, defalcations which would destroy CountMichael's faith in his probity. It was a threat of exposure which forcedhim to bring her here.
Trent rose when she came in and offered his visitor the single rushbottomed chair the cell contained.
He looked at her warily as one antagonist gazes at another before astruggle. Always she had called up in him this need for caution. Herviolent and passionate nature were graven on the face which had broughtso many men to folly and disgrace. Hentzi had told him many stories ofthe life she had lived in great cities and the tragedies which had cometo those who had loved her.
She was dressed tonight very splendidly. Jewels that should havebelonged to the poor countess who was passing her days in retreat wereabout her neck. An emerald necklace which in other days would have setAnthony Trent's eyes glittering matched her strange almond eyes. Therewas a certain tiger grace about the woman which would have attractedmen's notice and women's from wherever she might have gone. Did she, hewondered, come in peace or in war? He was on his guard.
"You are surprised to see me?" she began.
"I cannot choose my visitors," he reminded her.
"You have never liked me," she returned, "Why?"
"You were a danger to my enterprise," he answered.
"A danger now removed," she said quickly. "What are those marks on yourface?" she cried as he turned his head from the shadow to where the dimlamp light showed him more dearly. "Who has dared to strike you?"
"That is nothing," he cried impatiently. "Certainly the least of mytroubles. I am very weary; there may be very unpleasant hours before meand I need sleep. It cannot be such a great triumph to see me in thiscell?"
"Why do you stay here?" she demanded. "I know what Count Michael has toldyou. I know you have only to give him that piece of paper and your wordof honor as a gentleman and you are free to go. It is very fortunate foryou. Those two friends who also came are dead."
"Did he send you here?" Trent asked.
"He would be furious if he knew," she said quickly. "Certainly it woulddo you no good if he learned of it. You know," and Pauline looked at himthrough lowered lashes, "he has always been jealous of you."
"He has had no reason to be," Trent reminded her coldly.
"I know," she said, bitterness in her tone, "but he will not believethat. And now he knows you are noble and were masquerading as achauffeur he will be all the more jealous."
"I'm not a nobleman," he said almost angrily. He resented her presence.
"You cannot deceive me," she said tenderly.
"If you did not come here to speak for Count Michael, may I ask then forwhat purpose?"
"I want to warn you not to keep that paper from him."
"It was burned long ago," he answered. "If he can collect the ashes heis welcome to them."
"At present he is trying to collect your coat," she told him and notedwith a smile his start of alarm. "When they took you yo
u were coatless.He thinks somewhere in the forest they will find it and when they findit the paper will be there and perhaps other things of your own whichwill be interesting."
"I fear he will be disappointed," Trent said calmly, "but if he willreturn a favorite pipe in one of the pockets I shall be obliged."
She looked at him steadily. Hers was not always an easy face to read.
"I pray that they will find the coat," she said.
"Thank you," he exclaimed. "At least you make no pretence of wanting meto win."
"You don't understand," she cried, "it is because they will force you totell if they cannot find it. I am speaking no more than the truth.Cannot you see that you have mixed yourself in high matters and are amenace to Count Michael? He must know and he will know."
She saw his mouth tighten.
"Men just as strong and brave as you have broken down and told all."
"That may be," he answered, "but I am not going to alter my story aboutburning the paper and I am not going to weaken under any punishment theythink of trying on me."
He was not going to tell her that in a few days he would be able to makehis way out of this very cell if they kept handcuffs from him a littlelonger. Kicked out of sight among the dust on the floor was one of hismost useful tools. It was a strip of highly tempered steel spring with asaw edge--forty teeth to the inch--and could bite its way through thebarred window. When first he entered his prison he thought the openingtoo small for exit but he had revised his calculations and was nowcertain he could wriggle through it.
"It is for a woman you do this," Pauline said. "It is because of a womanyou are cold and ask no help of me."
"I can't prevent your wild guesses," he answered. There was no mistakinghis distaste of her meddling.
"I do not give up easily," he told her. "I used to think that in a duelbetween love and duty love should always win. It doesn't seem to workout that way always. And I used to think that a man who had not beenworthy of a woman should be given a chance to rebuild his life if hereally loved her." He shook his head. "It isn't the right idea.Sentimental nonsense the world calls it. The wedding gift a man offershis bride is his past." He shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't qualify."
Anthony Trent looked at the rough wall and saw only those dancing daysof happiness and love in another castle. And instead of Pauline with herworld weary face, her knowledge of every art to hold men, he saw hisslim and lovely Daphne. He knew that both of them loved him. Vaguely heunderstood that Pauline had come to offer to save him but he had kepther from telling him so yet. There might conceivably be a future withher in which he would find eventually his old ambitions stirring and hispride in his hazardous work revive. There might even be years that werealmost happy; reckless, passionate, quarrelling years. But the thoughtof it was nauseating. He swept it aside. He remembered the phrase ofPrivate Smith in the dug-out that he was dying in better company than heknew. Well, Anthony Trent if the worst came would die better than he hadlived.
To Pauline, who loved him, the idea of a violent ending to one of hisability and address was tragic.
An Austrian by birth, Pauline had been taken to Berlin then blossominginto extravagant and vulgar night life by a mother who was a dancer.Vain, ambitious and jealous of the success of others, Pauline offered noobjection to anything whereby she might become widely known. Later, whenshe had attained international fame as a skater she grew more selectivein her affairs. She was the rage for several years and but for thesuicide of a Serene Highness would never have been banished from Berlin.
Count Michael Temesvar was an old admirer. The war swept away Pauline'spossessions and there was no manager to engage her at a living wage.
At twenty-eight she had known many capitals, enjoyed great success andnever been really in love. Then she saw Anthony Trent on the golf linksand never passed a moment but was filled with thoughts of him. Hisconsistent repulsing of her threw her into moods of anger which shevisited mainly on her protector. And when she summoned scorn and angerto her aid in dealing with this Alfred Anthony, she found them onlyministers to her infatuation.
She looked around as Hentzi came into the cell.
"It is ten minutes," he whispered.
"Another five," she said. "I shall come with you then."
Hentzi withdrew nervous and expostulating. Trent noticed that her mannerwas different when she spoke. There was a certain timidity about her, anair of unhappiness almost of hopelessness.
"Have you thought what difference it will make to me?" she asked.
Gone from her face were those meretricious smiles, those little wayscultivated through intimate association with her world of warring sex.The Pauline who looked at him now was a woman stripped of artifice, awoman who suffered and loved.
There was an uncomfortable silence, the awkwardness of the man in theavowed affection of the undesired woman.
"Let there be no deception between us," she said quietly. "I see that itis someone else who claims your heart. I did not think there were menlike you who would be steadfast and loyal in a moment such as this. Iknow only that we--you and I--are alike in one thing. We both love wherethere is no hope. I came here to offer you freedom at a price most menwould be glad to pay. I will not insult you by saying what it was. Ihave known few good men and I know you are good."
"No, no," he cried, embarrassed by her manner, "Indeed if you onlyknew."
She would not listen.
"Love can redeem all," she said. "I pray the good God whom I haveneglected," she smiled a little ruefully, "to redeem me. I feel that mylife is over. I have had everything I wanted and am wearied of thetaste. Everything I wanted until now. There comes a time when one is nolonger so eager to live. It is so with me." She looked at him wistfully."Can you believe me when I tell you I want to help you?"
"I do believe it," he said gratefully. "I am glad enough to have afriend in this dismal place."
"Then let me help you," she said eagerly. "Something tells me you havehidden that paper. I warn you if it is still in existence, it will befound. Can I get it for you?"
Anthony Trent did not answer for a moment. The thought that there yetmight be a way of getting the treaty draft to Lord Rosecarrel almostmade speech an effort. If that were done with what energy and hope mighthe not bend his skill to means of escape!
"I should be putting my honor in your keeping," he said slowly.
Her face fell.
"And you dare not trust me?"
It was caution which had saved Anthony Trent a hundred times before andhe hesitated just a moment now. Then he looked at Pauline again and wasconvinced of her sincerity. And, after all, no better way presenteditself.
"I will trust you," he said, "but can you find out the place where theycaptured me?"
"I know it already," she said, "it is the farm of Zencsi and lies nomore than thirty miles away."
"Thirty!" he cried, "I thought it was twice that distance."
"You went miles out of your reckoning."
"Have you a pencil?" he cried. "I want to draw a plan of it."
"Alas, no," she exclaimed, "but Hentzi will be here and he shall getone."
The five minutes were up and the count's secretary entered entreatingPauline by fear of discovery to come with him.
"A pencil," she snapped, "and paper. A leaf from that little redmemorandum book where you keep account of what money you have saved bycheating your master."
She waved him away.
"Three more minutes," she commanded.
"I hid in a mound of hay quite close to the farm house. It was the onenearest a tree recently struck by lightning. It was a plum and the fruitwas still red and unwrinkled. I hid my coat there primarily with theidea of it being a pillow. When they dragged me out I kicked it down andout of sight. Three things may have happened. One, that owing to therain they have not canted the hay. Second, that a farm hand found thecoat and took the money in it and destroyed everything else. The thirdcontingency is that the document may have been undisturbed. In
this caseit will be returned when the count inquires broadcast for straygarments."
"Yes, yes," Pauline said, excitement in her voice, "but tell me exactlywhat to do."
"Can you motor to this Zencsi farm without being found out?"
"It will not be easy but it shall be done."
Her air of assurance heartened him.
"You can only find the blasted tree by day light," he said thoughtfully,"and in day light you may be seen. Can you be there at dawn before thefarmer himself is up."
"But that is easiest of all," she cried, "Listen to me. I shall waituntil everyone here is asleep. Then I shall take the Fiat and get toZencsi in a little more than an hour. I can hide the car in the forestand make my search. If I find it I can be back here before any man ormaid is stirring." Her face fell. "But what am I to do with it? I darenot give it to you who may be searched."
"It ought to be destroyed," he answered, "but I've sworn to give it tothe man who sent me here. I've got it. Put it in the tool box of theLion, among the cotton waste. Can you get into the garage?"
"Hentzi has all keys, as you should remember," she said. "What keys hehas are mine. And then?"
"You will find at the bottom of the big tool box a couple of keys. Theyare punched out of two thin steel bars. Really there are four keys. Itis most important that you bring them to me. You will not forget?"
"When your life hangs on it? What else? We must be quick. I do not fearHentzi but his master must not find me here."
"If the coat has been removed you must go to the farm house. There is awatch dog who barks but he pines for affection and you can win himeasily. Find out who has the coat. If it isn't in the hay someone on thefarm has it. If the document is handed to you look at it eagerly to makesure it is what I want and if it is, tell them the thing is worthlessand not what the count wants. And if you find the paper in the breastpocket do the same thing."
"Why?" she demanded.
"If you show them it is what you came for the count who will certainlyhear of it will want to get it. What would happen if he knew you hadgiven it to me?"
"Why think of that now?" she returned. But he noticed that a shade offear passed over her face at the thought of it.
"If you get it and put it in the tool box he will only think how wellyou have served his interests in coat hunting while his lazy varletswere abed. Of course if they don't hand it to you at the farm and itisn't in the coat it may be destroyed. I'm afraid you'll have to do somebullying and threatening to get at the truth but the truth I must have."
She rose from the rush bottomed chair with a sigh.
"You believe that there are those who can read fate?"
Anthony Trent hesitated. Men of his profession were usuallysuperstitious attaching unwarranted importance to fortuitous things,watching for signs and portents and abandoning planned enterprises attimes because of some sign of misfortune which had met them.
"I don't believe it," he admitted, "but that sort of thing influencesme. Why?"
"There is a woman nearby who can tell," Pauline replied, "Yesterday Igave her money. She said--can you think of it--that I should die happy."
"I hope you do," he said.
"But it is impossible," she cried. "None clings to life as I do. I amtired of this life. I love the life of cities, the restaurants, thecrowds. I am city bred. In a year when conditions are better I shall goback. I shall appear in Berlin again, Petrograd, perhaps and of coursein London and they want me in New York. I shall hate to die. But I didnot mean to speak of myself. She told me that the man I loved would besuccessful. Fate makes no mistake. Keep up your courage for you will winand I shall die happy. What more could we want?"
But there were tears in her eyes as she said it.
He took both her hands in his.
"What a splendid woman you are!" he said with conviction.
"My dear," she answered, her voice a little uneven, "do not tell that tothe woman you love. She would hate me and I want to live a little inyour heart without anyone else to share it. Promise me that?"
There was in his mind to tell her Daphne was different. That Daphnewould love her too, but he said nothing. Her intuition told her morethan his hope could foretell.
"I promise," he answered, "and I promise that I shall never forget."
Hentzi's agitated voice disturbed them.
"Not one moment longer," he whispered. "I dare not."
The Secret of the Silver Car Page 12
