Sophy of Kravonia: A Novel

by Anthony Hope

  XVI

  A FRENCHMAN AND A MATTRESS

  To say the truth, the word "murderers" seemed to Captain Markart morethan a little harsh. To use it was to apply to Kravonian affairs thesterner standards of more steady-going, squeamish countries. A _coupd'etat_ may well involve fighting; fighting naturally includes killing.But are the promoters of the _coup_ therefore murderers? Murderers witha difference, anyhow, according to Kravonian ideas, which CaptainMarkart was inclined to share. Moreover, a _coup d'etat_ is war; thesuppression of information is legitimate in war. If the Prince of Slavnacould not find out for himself what had happened in the Palace, were hisopponents bound to tell him? In fact, given that an attempt to changethe succession in your own interest was not a crime, but a legitimatepolitical enterprise, the rest followed.

  Except Mistitch! It was difficult to swallow Mistitch. There was amixture of ingenuity and brutality about that move which not evenKravonian notions could easily accept. If Stafnitz had gone--nay, if hehimself had been sent--probably Markart's conscience would not haverebelled. But to send Captain Hercules--that was cogging the dice! Yethe was very angry that Stenovics should have divined his feelings andshut him up. The General distrusted his courage as well as hisconscience--there lay the deepest hurt to Markart's vanity; it was allthe deeper because in his heart he had to own that Stenovics read himright. Not only the brazen conscience was lacking, but also the ironnerve.

  Getting no answer to his unpleasantly pointed question, Lepage relapsedinto silence. He stood by the window, looking out on the lawn whichsloped down to the Krath. Beyond the river the lights of Slavna glowedin the darkening sky. Things would be happening in Slavna soon; Lepagemight well look at the city thoughtfully. As a fact, however, his mindwas occupied with one problem only--where was Zerkovitch and how couldhe get at him? For Lepage did not waver--he had taken his line.

  Presently, however, his professional instincts seemed to reassertthemselves. He opened a cupboard in the room and brought out a cleanpair of sheets, which he proceeded to arrange on the bed. Busy at thistask, he paused to smile at Markart and say: "We must do the best wecan, Captain. After all, we have both camped, I expect! Here's the bedfor you--you'll do finely." He went back to the cupboard and lugged outa mattress. "And this is for me--the shake-down on the floor which I usewhen I sleep in the King's room--or did use, I should say. In myjudgment, Captain, it's comfortable to go to bed on the floor--at least,one can't fall."

  It was eight o'clock. They heard the outer door of the suite of roomsopen and shut. A man was moving about in the next room; if they couldjudge by the sound of his steps, he also paid Dr. Natcheff a briefvisit. They heard the clink of dishes and of glass.

  "Dinner!" said Lepage. "Ah, that's not unwelcome! Have I permission?"Markart nodded, and he opened the door. On the table in thesitting-room was a savory dish, bread, and two bottles of wine. CaptainSterkoff was just surveying the board he had spread, with his head onone side. There was nothing peculiar in that; his head was permanentlystuck on one side--a list to starboard--since the Virgin with the lamphad injured the vertebrae of his neck. But the attitude, together withhis beaked nose, made him look like a particularly vicious parrot.Markart saw him through the open door and could not get the resemblanceout of his mind.

  "Supper, gentlemen!" said Sterkoff with malevolent mirth. "The Doctorcan't join you. He's a little upset and keeps his bed. A good appetite!I trust not to be obliged to disturb you again to-night."

  Markart had come in by now, but he was too surly and sore to speak.Without a word he plumped down into a chair by the table and rested hischin on his hands, staring at the cloth. It was left to Lepage to bow toSterkoff, and to express their joint thanks. This task he performed withsufficient urbanity. Then he broke into a laugh.

  "They must think it odd to see you carrying dishes and bottles about thePalace, Captain?"

  "Possibly," agreed Sterkoff. "But you see, my friend, what they think inthe Palace doesn't matter very much, so long as none of them can getoutside."

  "Oh, they none of them spend the evening out?"

  "Would they wish to, when the King has an attack of influenza, and Dr.Natcheff is in attendance? It would be unfeeling, Lepage!"

  "Horribly, Captain! Probably even the sentries would object?"

  "It's possible they would," Sterkoff agreed again. He drew himself upand saluted Markart, who did not move or pay any attention."Good-night, Lepage." He turned to the door; his head seemed more cockedon one side than ever. Lepage bade him "Good-night" very respectfully;but as the key turned in the door, he murmured longingly: "Ah, if Icould knock that ugly mug the rest of the way off his shoulders!"

  He treated Markart with no less respect than he had accorded toSterkoff; he would not hear of sitting down at table with an officer,but insisted on handing the dish and uncorking the wine. Markartaccepted his attentions and began to eat languidly, with utter want ofappetite.

  "Some wine, Captain, some wine to cheer you up in this tiresome duty ofguarding me!" cried Lepage, picking up a bottle in one hand and a glassin the other. "Oh, but that wry-necked fellow has brought you a dirtyglass! A moment, Captain! I'll wash it." And off he bounded--not evenwaiting to set down the bottle--into the little room beyond.

  His brain was working hard now, marshalling his resources against hisdifficulties. The difficulties were thirty feet to fall, Sterkoff'ssentries, the broad, swift current of the Krath--for even in normaltimes there was always a sentry on the bridge--then the search forZerkovitch in Slavna. His resources were a mattress, a spare pair ofsheets, and a phial half full of the draught which Dr. Natcheff hadprescribed for the King.

  "It's very unfortunate, but I've not the least notion how much wouldkill him," thought Lepage, as he poured the medicine--presumably astrong sedative--into the wine-glass and filled up with wine from thebottle Sterkoff had provided. He came back, holding the glass aloft witha satisfied air. "Now it's fit for a gentleman to drink out of," saidhe, as he set it down by Markart's hand. The Captain took it up andswallowed it at a draught.

  "Ugh! Corked, I think! Beastly, anyhow!" said he.

  "They poison us as well as shut us up!" cried Lepage in burlesque anger."Try the other bottle, Captain!"

  The other bottle was better, said Markart, and he drank pretty well thewhole of it, Lepage standing by and watching him with keen interest. Itwas distressing not to know how much of the King's draught would kill;it had been necessary to err on the safe side--the side safe for Lepage,that is.

  Captain Markart thought he would smoke his cigar in the little room,lying on the bed; he was tired and sleepy--very sleepy, there was nodenying it. Lepage sat down and ate and drank; he found no fault withthe wine in the first bottle. Then he went and looked at Markart. TheCaptain lay in his shirt, breeches, and boots. He was sound asleep andbreathing heavily; his cigar had fallen on the sheet, but apparently hadbeen out before it fell. Lepage regarded him with pursed lips, shruggedhis shoulders, and slipped the Captain's revolver into his pocket. TheCaptain's recovery must be left to Fate.

  For the next hour he worked at his pair of sheets, slicing, twisting,and splicing. In the end he found himself possessed of a fairly stoutrope twelve or thirteen feet long, but he could find nothing solid totie it to near the window, except the bed, and that was a yard away. Hewould still have a fall of some twenty feet, and the ground was hardwith a spring frost. There would be need of the mattress. He put outall the lights in the room and cautiously raised the window.

  The night was dark, he could not see the ground. He stood there tenminutes. Then he heard a measured tramp; a dark figure, justdistinguishable, came round the corner of the Palace, walked past thewindow to the end of the building, turned, walked back, and disappeared.Hurriedly Lepage struck a match and took the time. Again he waited,again the figure came. Again he struck a light and took the time. Hewent through this process five times before he felt reasonably sure thathe could rely on having ten minutes to himself if he started the momentSterkoff's sentry h
ad gone round the corner of the building.

  He pulled the mattress up onto the sill of the window and waited. Therewas no sound now but of Markart's stertorous breathing. But presentlythe measured tramp below came, passed, turned, and passed away. Lepagegave a last tug at the fastenings of his rope, threw the end out ofwindow, took the mattress, and dropped it very carefully as straightdown as he could.

  The next moment, in spite of Sterkoff, somebody had left the Palace. Whynot? The runaway was aware that the King was not really suffering frominfluenza--he could spend an evening in Slavna without reproach!

  "I wish I knew the safest way to fall!" thought Lepage, dangling at theend of his rope. It swayed about terribly; he waited awhile for it tosteady itself--he feared to miss the mattress; but he could not waitlong, or that measured tramp and that dark figure would come. Therewould be a sudden spurt of light, and a report--and what of Lepagethen? He gathered his legs up behind his knees, took a long breath--andfell. As luck would have it, though he landed on the very edge of themattress, yet he did land on it, and tumbled forward on his face,shaken, but with bones intact. There was a numb feeling above hisknees--nothing worse than that.

  He drew another long breath. Heavy bodies--and even mattresses--fallquickly; he must have seven or eight minutes yet!

  But no! Heavy bodies, even mattresses, falling quickly, make a noise.Lepage, too, had come down with a thud, squashing hidden air out of theinterstices of the mattress. The silence of night will give resonance togentler sounds than that, which was as though a giant had squeezed hismighty sponge. Lepage, on his numb knees, listened. The steps came, notmeasured now, but running. The dark figure came running round thecorner. What next? Next the challenge--then the spurt of light and thereport! What of Lepage then? Nothing--so far as Lepage and the rest ofhumanity for certainty knew.

  Of that nothing--actual or possible--Lepage did not approve. He hitchedthe mattress onto his back, bent himself nearly double, and, thus bothburdened and protected, made for the river. He must have looked like aturtle scurrying to the sea, lest he should be turned over--and so leftfor soup in due season.

  "Who goes there? Halt! Halt!"

  The turtle scurried on; it was no moment to stop and discuss matters.

  The spurt of light, the report! There was a hole in the mattress, butwell above Lepage's head. Indeed, if hit at all, he was not most likelyto be hit in the head; that vital portion of him was tucked away toocarefully. He presented a broader aim; but the mattress masked himnobly.

  There was another shot--the northwest corner of the mattress this time.But the mattress was on the river's edge. The next instant it wasfloating on the current of the Krath, and Sterkoff's sentry wasindulging in some very pretty practice at it. He hit it every time,until the swift current carried it round the bend and out of sight.

  The whole thing seemed strange and rather uncanny to the sentry. Hegrounded his rifle and wiped his brow. It had looked like a carpettaking a walk on its own account--and then a swim! Superior officersmight be accustomed to such strange phenomena. The sentry was not. Heset off at a round pace to the guard-room; he did not even stay tonotice the white rope which dangled in the air from a first-floorwindow. Had he stopped, he would have heard Markart's invincible,drug-laden snoring.

  Lepage had separated himself from his good friend and ally, themattress, and dived under water while the sentry blazed away. Hewelcomed the current which bore him rapidly from the dangerousneighborhood of the Palace. He came to the surface fifty feet downstream and made for the other side. He could manage no more than a veryslanting course, but he was a strong swimmer, lightly dressed, with anin-door man's light kid shoes. He felt no distress; rather a vivid,almost gleeful, excitement came upon him as he battled with the strong,cold stream. He began to plume himself on the mattress. Only a Frenchmanwould have thought of that! A Slavna man would have ran away withunguarded flanks. A Volsenian would have stayed to kill the sentry, andbe shot down by Sterkoff's guard. Only a Frenchman would have thought ofthe mattress!

  He made land a quarter of a mile below the Palace. Ah, it was colder onthe road there than struggling with the cold water! But his spirit wasnot quenched. He laughed again--a trifle hysterically, perhaps. In spiteof Sterkoff he was spending the evening out! He set his feet forSlavna--briskly, too! Nay, he ran, for warmth's sake, and because ofwhat the sentry might even now be reporting to Sterkoff, and, throughhim, to General Stenovics. The thought brought him to a stand-stillagain; there might be a cordon of sentries across the road! After amoment's hesitation he broke away from the main road, struck due south,and so ran when he could, walked when he must, two miles.

  He was getting terribly tired now, but not cold--rather he wasfeverishly hot inside his clammy garments. He turned along a countrycross-road which ran west, and passed through a village, leaving theHotel de Paris on the main road far to his right. At last he reached themain road south and turned up it, heading again for Slavna and for thebridge which crossed the South River. He passed the bridge without beingchallenged as the Cathedral clock struck midnight from St. Michael'sSquare. The worst of his task was accomplished. If now he could findZerkovitch!

  But he was sore spent; running was out of the question now; he slunkslowly and painfully along the south boulevard, clinging close to thefences of the gardens, seeking the shelter of the trees which overhungthem.

  Draggled, hatless, dirty, infinitely weary, at last he reachedZerkovitch's house at the corner where the boulevard and the Street ofthe Fountain meet. He opened the garden gate and walked in. Spent as hewas, he breathed a "Bravo!" when he saw a light burning in the hall. Hestaggered on, rang the bell, and fairly fell in a lump outside the door.

  He had done well; he, a man of peace, busy with clothes--he had donewell that night! But he was finished. When Zerkovitch opened the door,he found little more than a heap of dank and dirty raiment; he hauled itin and shut the door. He supported Lepage into the study, sat him downby the fire, and got brandy for him to drink, pouring out full half atumbler. Lepage took it and drank the better part of it at a gulp.

  "The King died at five o'clock, Monsieur Zerkovitch," he said. He drankthe rest, let the tumbler fall with a crash in the fender, buried hishead on his breast, and fell into blank unconsciousness.

  He was out of the battle--as much as Markart, who slept the clock roundin spite of Stenovics's shakings and Dr. Natcheff's rubbings andstimulants. But he had done his part. It was for Zerkovitch to do hisnow.

  The King had died at five o'clock? It was certainly odd, that story,because Zerkovitch had just returned from the offices of _The Patriot_;and, immediately before he left, he had sent down to the foreman-printeran official _communique_, to be inserted in his paper. It was to theeffect that Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor of fifty men wouldleave Slavna next morning at seven o'clock for Dobrava, to be inreadiness to receive the King, who had made magnificent progress, andwas about to proceed to his country seat to complete his convalescence.

  Captain Mistitch and a guard of honor for Dobrava! Zerkovitch decidedthat he would, if possible, ride ahead of them to Dobrava--that is, partof the way. But first he called his old housekeeper and told her to putLepage to bed.

  "Don't worry about anything he says. He's raving," he addedthoughtfully.

  But poor Lepage raved no more that night. He did not speak again tillall was over. He had done his part.

  At five o'clock in the morning, Zerkovitch left Slavna, hidden under asack in a carrier's cart. He obtained a horse at a high price from afarmer three miles along the road, and thence set out for the Castle athis best speed. At six, Captain Mistitch, charged with Stafnitz'scareful instructions, set out with his guard of honor along the sameroad--going to Dobrava to await the arrival of the King, who lay dead inthe Palace on the Krath!

  But since they started at six, and not at seven, as the official_communique_ led Zerkovitch to suppose, he had an hour less to sparethan he thought. Moreover, they went not fifty strong, but one hundred.


  These two changes--of the hour and the force--were made as soon asStenovics and Stafnitz learned of Lepage's escape. A large force and amidnight march would have aroused suspicion in Slavna. The General didwhat he could safely do to meet the danger which the escapesuggested--the danger that news of the King's death might be carried toPraslok before Mistitch and his escort got there.