by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XXXI
NEWS FROM ILLYRIA
The man was Fitz.
"A thousand apologies," he said. "So sorry to disturb you. Butthere's news from Illyria."
Such a very remarkable obtrusion enchained the attention of us all.And this was not rendered less by the self-possession of the speaker'smanner.
"Ferdinand has been assassinated." Fitz's tone was slow and contained."The Monarchy has been overthrown; Sonia is a close prisoner in theCastle at Blaenau, and her fate hangs in the balance."
"What is your authority?" said Coverdale.
"Reuter," said Fitz. "A telegram is printed in the evening papers. Ihappened to buy one at the book-stall as I left town."
He produced the _Westminster Gazette_ from the pocket of his overcoatand handed it to the Chief Constable.
"You don't suppose," said Coverdale, frowning heavily, "that they arecapable of personal violence towards the Princess?"
"At bottom they are only half civilised," said Fitz, "and when theirpassions are aroused they are capable of anything. You will see thetelegram says the government is in the hands of a committee of thepeople. And no wise man ever trusts the people and never will."
This feudal sentiment was uttered in a tone of the oddest conviction.
"By Jove!" said the scion of the ducal house. "Here is the chap we arelooking for."
But the intrusion of Fitz was too deadly serious for any side issue tobe allowed to distract our attention.
"I apologise to you, Mrs. Catesby, for spoiling your dinner party likethis," he said, "but it is my firm conviction that if the Princess isto be saved there is not a moment to lose."
"One is inclined to agree with you," said Coverdale, slowly andthoughtfully. "Has it occurred to you that anything can be done?"
Fitz's reply, given quietly enough, was characteristic of the man.
"To-day is Monday," he said. "By midnight on Thursday we shall haveher out of Blaenau."
"Impossible, my dear fellow, impossible," said the Chief Constable, "ifthis account is correct."
"Nothing is impossible," said the Man of Destiny. "There is just timenow to catch the ten o'clock to-night from Middleham. First thingto-morrow morning we will get our papers if we can, and if we can'twe'll go without them. We shall be in Paris some time in theafternoon; and if all goes well by Wednesday evening we shall be inVienna. By five o'clock on Thursday we ought to be at Orgov on theMilesian frontier, and six hours' easy riding over the mountains with acouple of baits will land us at Blaenau."
We who knew Fitz and had followed him in high affairs knew better thanto venture upon criticism of this bald and unconvincing scheme. Thosewho did not know him could only smile incredulously.
"Sounds easy," said Lord Frederick, "but assuming, Fitzwaren, that youget to Blaenau like that, what can it profit you if the Princess is inthe Castle under lock and key?"
"Stone walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a cage," quoted the Manof Destiny. "Once we get to Blaenau we shall have her out of theCastle, never fear about that. But there is no time to discuss thematter now. If we go at once and collect our gear--so sorry, Mrs.Catesby, but absolutely unavoidable--we can be in town bytwelve-fifteen, arrange about our papers and keep well in front of theclock."
The man's calm assumption that we should all unhesitatingly follow hislead and commit ourselves to this rather mad and certainly mostuncomfortable enterprise was remarkable.
"There is not a minute to lose," he said. "By the way, Arbuthnot, I'vetold Peters to pack a kit-bag for you. And this time, old son, you hadbetter see that you don't forget your revolver."
Under the goad of the Chief Constable's uneasy eye I was fain to gazeat the black silk handkerchief, which still bore my wrist.
"I'm afraid I'm a lame duck anyway," I said.
"You will do to hold the horses at the foot of the Castle rock.Climbing up the face of that cliff will be out of the question as faras you are concerned. Now then, you fellows," the Man of Destiny tookout his watch, "you have just two minutes to finish your port and getyour cigars alight and then it's boot and saddle."
"Nevil," said the imperious voice of the Great Lady, "I am reallyafraid you are mad."
The Man of Destiny did not deign to heed this irrelevant suggestion.
The exigencies of historical truth render it necessary to record thefact that Joseph Jocelyn de Vere Vane-Anstruther was undoubtedly thefirst respondent to the call. My relation by marriage drank his portwine and rose in his place at Mrs. Catesby's board. There was a firein his eye and the suspicion of a hectic flush upon his countenancewhich seemed to contrast strangely with the habitual languor of hisbearing.
"First thing we must do is to send a wire to old Alec," he said;"although he is certain not to be in if we send it. If we get to townby twelve-fifteen I will trot round to the Continental. The beggar issure to be there until they kick him out, as there is a ball to-nightat Covent Garden."
This reasoning may have been lucid and it may have been pregnant; atleast it recommended itself to the comprehensive intellect of the Manof Destiny.
"Quite right, Vane-Anstruther. I shall hold you responsible forO'Mulligan."
"Joseph," said the Great Lady upon a stentorian note, "are you madalso?"
Hardly had this pertinent inquiry been advanced when the noble Masterwas on his legs.
"So awfully sorry, Mrs. Catesby," he said with a long-drawn sweetnessof apology, "but it can't be helped in the circumstances, can it? Ileave hounds in the care of George and Frederick. Keep Potts up to hiswork, George, and see that he pays proper attention to their feet. AndFrederick, I charge you to make it your business to see that Madrigalhas a ball every Friday."
"Reginald," said his hostess with great energy, "in the unavoidableabsence of your widowed and unfortunate mother I absolutely forbid youto bear a part in this hare-brained enterprise. I really don't knowwhat Nevil can be thinking of."
In Ascalon whisper it not, but this was the precise moment in which Ifound the cynical eye of the Chief Constable upon me for the secondtime. The eye was also wary and a little pensive, but the great manrose in his place with an air of profound rumination. He slowlycracked a walnut and then turned to the butler, with a coolness whichto my mind had a suspicion of the uncanny.
"Just tell my chap to have my car round at once," he said; and thenwith great deference to his hostess, "a thousand apologies, Mrs.Catesby, but you do see, don't you, that it can't be helped?"
Whether I rose to my feet by an act of private volition or at thesubconscious beck of another's compelling power, there is no need toattempt to determine. But somehow I found myself upon my legs andadding my own imperfect apologies to the equally imperfect ones of theChief Constable.
"Odo Arbuthnot," said my hostess, "sit down at once. A married man, afather of a family, and a county member! Sit down at once and get onwith your fruit. Colonel Coverdale! I am surprised at you."
"Finished your port, Arbuthnot?" said Fitz, calmly. "Time's about up.But I've told your chap about the car."
Consternation mingled now with the lively feminine bewilderment, butMrs. Arbuthnot, whom Fitz's news had excited and distressed, issued nopersonal edict. If the life of Sonia was really at stake it was rightto take a risk. Nevertheless it showed a right feeling about things tobetray a little public perturbation at the prospect of being made awidow.
"Jodey and Reggie and Colonel Coverdale must go," said Mrs. Arbuthnot."They haven't wives and families dependent upon them. But you, Odo,are different. And then, too, your wrist. You would be of no use ifyou went."
"I shall do to hold the horses at the foot of the Castle rock," said I,saluting a white cheek.
Fitz was already withdrawing from the room with his volunteers whenLord Frederick rose in his place at the board.
"Look here, Fitzwaren," he said. "If you have a vacancy in yourirregulars I rather think I'll make one."
"By all means," said Fitz. "The more the
merrier."
Bewilderment and consternation mounted ever higher around Mrs.Catesby's mahogany.
"Freddie! Freddie!" There arose a tearful wail from across the table.
"You ought to be bled for the simples, Frederick," said his hostess.
However, even as the Great Lady spoke, honest George, mostconscientious of husbands, and notwithstanding his rank in theMiddleshire Yeomanry, the most peace-loving of men, was understood tomake an offer of active service.
"Well done, George," said his friend the Vicar. "I shouldn't mindcoming as the chaplain to the force myself."
"George," said an imperious voice from the table head, "George!"
The Man of Destiny halted a moment on the threshold of the banquet hallwith the frank eye of cynicism fixed midway between the Great Lady andthe warlike George.
"George! Sit down!"
Finally George sat down with a covert glance at his friend the Vicar.
By the time we had got into our overcoats and mufflers and the means oftravel had been provided for us, a scene with some pretensions topathos had been enacted in the hall.
"Odo, you really ought not, but if dear Sonia really is in danger----!"
"We shall all be back a week to-night," the Man of Destiny informed mysomewhat tearful monitor with a note of assurance in his voice.
Moving objurgations of "Freddie! Freddie!" were mingled with theclarion note of Mrs. Catesby's indignation.
"It is a mad scheme, and if you get your deserts you will all be shotby the Illyrians."
But Fitz and I were already seated side by side in the car. We waved afarewell to the bewildered company upon the hall steps, and then thefact seemed slowly to be borne in upon my numbed intelligence that yetagain I was irrevocably committed to this latest and maddest call of myevil genius. There he sat by my side, his cigar a small red disc offire, and he self-possessed, insouciant, daemonic, almost gay.
The flaccid, rudderless creature of the past ten days was gone asthough he had never been. It was hard to realise that this born leaderof others, who courted war like a mistress, the magic of whoseinitiative the coolest and sanest could not resist, was the self-samebroken fragment of human wreckage who twenty-four hours ago had not themotive power to perform the simplest action. But there could be noquestion of the magic he knew how to exert over the most diversenatures; and as we sat side by side in the semi-darkness of the carwhile it flew along the muddy, winding and narrow roads to DympsfieldHouse, I yielded almost with a thrill of exultation to the director ofmy fate.
