The Red Symbol

by John Ironside

  CHAPTER XLII

  THE DESERTED HUNTING LODGE

  Our own horses were already at the appointed place, together withPavloff and the Duke's little band of "recruits;" sturdy young _moujiks_these, as I saw now by the gray light of dawn, cleaner and moreintelligent-looking than most of their class.

  They were freshly horsed, for they had taken advantage of the confusionin the town to "commandeer" re-mounts,--as they say in South Africa.There were horses for Anne, and her cousin, too. Pavloff, like his son,was a man who forgot nothing.

  Anne had already revived from the faintness that overcame her on thesteps of the synagogue. I had heard her talking to Loris, as we camealong; more than once she declared she was quite able to walk, but heonly shook his head and strode on.

  He set her down now, and seemed to be demurring about her horse. I heardher laugh,--how well I knew that laugh!--though I had already swungmyself into the saddle and edged a little away.

  "It is not the first time I have had to ride thus. Look you, Maurice, itgoes well enough, does it not?" she said, riding towards me.

  I had to look round at that.

  She was mounted astride, as I've seen girls ride in the Western States.She had slipped off the skirt of her dark riding-habit, and flung itover her right arm; and was sitting square in her saddle, her long coatreaching to the tops of her high riding-boots.

  I felt a lump come to my throat as I looked at the gallant, gracefulfigure, at the small proud head with its wealth of bright hair gleamingunder the little astrachan cap that she wore, at the white face with itsbrave smile.

  I knew well that she was all but dead-beat, and that she only laughedlest she might weep, or faint again.

  "It goes well indeed, _capitaine_," I answered, with a military salute.

  Pavloff, still on foot, came forward and stood beside her, speaking in alow growl; he was an elder edition of his son Mishka.

  She listened, looking down at him gravely and kindly. I could not takemy eyes from her face, so dear and familiar, and yet in one way sochanged. I guessed wherein the change lay. When I had known her beforeshe had only been playing a part, posing as a lovely, light-hearted,capriciously coquettish girl, without a real care in the world. But nowI saw her without the mask, knew her for what she was, the woman who wasdevoting her youth, her beauty, her brilliant talents, to a greatcause,--a well-nigh hopeless one,--and I loved her more than ever, witha passionate fervor that, I honestly declare, had no taint ofselfishness in it. From that moment I told myself that it was enough forme merely to be near her, to serve her, shield her perhaps, and count,as a rich reward, every chance word or thought or smile she might bestowon me.

  "Yes, it is well; your duty lies there," I heard her say. "God be withyou, old friend; and farewell!"

  She slipped her right hand out of its loose leather glove, and held itout to him.

  When I first saw her at Chelsea, I had decided that hers were the mostbeautiful hands in the world, not small, but exquisitely shaped,--handsthat, in their graceful movements, somehow seemed to convey a subtleidea of power and versatility. She never wore rings. I remembered howMary once remarked on this peculiarity, and Anne had answered that shedid not care for them.

  "But you've quite a lot in your jewel case, lovely old ones; you oughtto wear them, Anne," Mary protested, and Anne's eyes had darkened asthey always did in moments of emotion.

  "They were my mother's. Father gave them me years ago, and I alwayscarry them about with me; but I never wear them," she said quietly.

  The remembrance of this little episode flashed through my mind as I sawher hold out her ringless hand,--begrimed now with dirt and smoke, witha purple mark like a bruise between the thumb and first finger, thatshowed me she had been one of the firing party.

  Pavloff bared his shaggy head, and bent over the hand as if it had beenthat of an empress; then moved away and went plump on his knees beforeLoris.

  "Where is he going?" I asked Anne, ranging my horse alongside.

  "Back to his work, like the good man he is," she said, her eyes fixed onLoris, who had raised the old steward and was speaking to him rapidlyand affectionately. "He came thus far lest we should have need of him;perhaps also because he would say farewell to me,--since we shall notmeet again. But now he will return and continue his duty at Zostrov aslong as he is permitted to do so. That may not be long,--but still hispost is there."

  "They will murder him, as some of them tried to murder the Duke lastnight," I said. "You have heard of the explosion?"

  She nodded, but made no comment, and, as Pavloff mounted and rode offalone, Loris also mounted and joined us with Vassilitzi, and the four ofus started at a hand-gallop, a little ahead of the others. Loris rode onAnne's right hand, I on her left, and I noticed, as I glanced at herfrom time to time, how weary and wistful her face was, when thetransient smile had vanished; how wide and sombre the eyes that, as Iknew of old, changed with every mood, so that one could never determinetheir color; at one moment a sparkling hazel, at another--as now--darkand mysterious as the sky on a starless night.

  The last part of our route lay through thick woods, where the cold lightof the dawn barely penetrated as yet, though the foliage was thinoverhead, and the autumn leaves made a soft carpet on which our horses'hoofs fell almost without a sound.

  We seemed to move like a troop of shadows through that ghostly twilight.One could imagine it an enchanted forest, like those of our nurserytales, with evil things stirring in the brakes all about us, andwatching us unseen. Once there came a long-drawn wail from near at hand;and a big wolf, homing to his lair at the dawning, trotted across thetrack just ahead, and bared his fangs in a snarl before he vanished. Afew minutes later another sound rang weirdly above the stealthywhispers of the forest,--the scream of some creature in mortal fear andpain.

  "That is a horse that the wolves are after--or they've got him!"exclaimed Vassilitzi. He and I were leading now, for the track was onlywide enough for two to ride abreast. We quickened our pace, though wewere going at a smart trot, and as a second scream reached our ears,ending abruptly in a queer gurgle, we saw in front a shapeless heap,from which two shadowy forms started up growling, but turned tail andvanished, as the other wolf had done, as we galloped towards them.

  The fallen horse was a shaggy country nag, with a rope bridle and nosaddle. The wolves had fastened on his throat, but he was not yet dead,and as I jumped down and stood over him he made a last convulsive effortto rise, glaring at me piteously with his blood-flecked eyes. We sawthen that his fore-leg was broken, and I decided the best thing to dowas to put the beast out of his misery. So I did it right then with ashot in his ear.

  "He has been ridden hard; he was just about spent when he stumbled onthat fallen trunk and fell, and that was some time since," saidVassilitzi, looking critically at the quivering, sweat-drenched carcase."Now, what does it mean? If the wolves had chased him,--and they are notso bold now as in the winter,--they would have had him down before, andhis rider too; but they had only just found him."

  He stared ahead and shrugged his shoulders with the air of a man whodismisses an unimportant question to which he cannot find a readyanswer.

  The others caught up with us as I got into my saddle again, and we madeno delay, as the incident was not of sufficient moment.

  We passed one or two huts, that appeared to be uninhabited, and came atlast to the open, or rather to a space of a few hundred acres, ringedround by the forest, and saw in the centre of the clearing a low,rambling old house of stone, enclosed with a high wall, and near thetall gateway a few scattered wooden huts.

  Some fowls and pigs were straying about, and a few dejected looking cowsand a couple of horses were grazing near at hand; but there was no signof human life.

  "_Diable!_ Where are they all?" exclaimed Vassilitzi, frowning andbiting his mustache.

  "What place is this?" I asked him.

  "Mine. It was a hunting lodge once; now it represents allmy--our--possessions. But where are the peopl
e?"

  He rode to the nearest hut, kicked open the crazy door, and shoutedimperatively; but there was no reply. The whole place was deserted.

  Thence to the gateway, with its solid oak doors. He jumped down andtried them, petulantly muttering what certainly sounded like a string ofoaths. But they were locked and barred.

  The others rode up, Anne and Loris first, the men straggling after.

  Anne was swaying in her saddle; her face was ashy pale. I think shewould have fallen but that Loris steadied her with his arm.

  "What now?" she gasped. "There has been no fighting;" she glanced wildlyaround, "and yet--where are they all? We left twenty to guard her,within, besides these others." She stretched her hand towards the emptyhuts.

  "Give the signal!" she continued, turning to Loris. "If there are anywithin they will answer that!"

  He drew his revolver and fired five shots in the air; while we all sat,staring at him, and wondering what would happen next; at least that waswhat I was wondering. The silence was so uncanny!