“Well, of course, he was done. But he took his pipe out of his mouth and shouted ‘Major Grieg’ in a toast-master’s voice. I didn’t wait. I flew to Paul’s room and woke him and told him to come with me, but of course he began to argue, so I left him and fled. I left the house by the staircase you used last night and took to the woods. My idea, of course, was to stop you from – from throwing our last card away, but I didn’t dare come by the meadows – and look at my shoes.”
“I will clean them,” said I. I swung myself out of the car. “By the time I have done what I can, perhaps I shall have a plan.”
Without a word the Grand Duchess left the car and took her seat on a log. Then she took off the slippers and gave them into my hand.
I made a wisp of fresh grass and fell to work.
I fear I thought more of the slippers than of how to outwit Major Grieg, but I think I may be forgiven, for they were very dainty and very small.
When I had cleaned them both, I knelt and shod her. Then I sat back on my heels and wiped the sweat from my face.
“And now for the plan,” she said.
I fear I had expected some thanks, which, to be perfectly honest, I did not deserve, and before this sudden inquiry I felt and looked as a fool.
“It’s – it’s not ready yet,” I said feebly.
The Grand Duchess rose to her feet and took two or three steps. Then she turned abruptly and let me see the displeasure which sat in her face.
“Then please be quick,” she said coldly. “I didn’t run two miles to have my shoes cleaned. If you listened to me last night, you must know there’s a lot at stake.”
I remember ruefully reflecting that George Hanbury was perfectly right. The lady had a whip in her boot.
The odds were clean in our favour, and, as I drove over the bridge, I knew in my heart that, if Fortune kept out of the ring, the round was ours.
I was alone in the car, and this was moving slowly and making a shocking noise. To round the picture, as I approached the abbey, I sounded the horn…
The court was empty and full of the glare of the sun, and the open doorway of the mansion looked like a square, black mouth.
As I came to the edge of the court, the car gave a sickening jerk and then stopped dead, with her radiator steaming and hissing as though it was ready to burst.
For a moment I sat where I was. Then I got out slowly and lugged two cans of petrol out of the back of the car.
With one in each hand I hastened towards the out-house, which lay behind the refectory towards the woods. It follows that within five seconds I was out of sight of the mansion and of anyone watching from within.
Out of sight, I ran for the corner and, when I had turned it, I set my cans in position and lay back against the wall.
Immediately opposite me, about six paces away, Bell was behind a chestnut, and, though I could not see Rowley, I knew that he was at hand.
We had not long to wait.
Grieg came running delicately, as a man who will lose no time yet make no noise.
Round the corner he pelted and, meeting the stumbling-block which I had set up, took such a fall as I have never seen except in a cinema-show.
I was kneeling astride him in an instant, and, though he let off his pistol, he must have fired into the ground, for he was lying face downwards and I had hold of his wrist.
I had expected a struggle, for I knew he was brave, but, as I have said, he was heavy, and such a fall as his would have shaken a feather-weight. Be that as it may, when I told him to drop his pistol, he did so without a word. Then I brought his arms behind him, and Rowley bound together his wrists.
I rose to see his chauffeur standing against the wall and gazing upon Bell’s pistol with his eyes starting out of his head.
It was easy to take his measure.
“Go and call the bailiff,” said I. “Say that the major sent you. Understand that. The major sent you. If he isn’t here in one minute, I’ll follow and take your life.”
Bell put up his pistol, and the fellow was off like a hare.
When I looked again at Grieg, he had not stirred, so the servants turned him over and I unfastened his tunic about his throat. At this, he opened his eves, to dart me a look of such malevolence that I saw he was more sulky than sick and let him be.
As I stood upright, I saw the Grand Duchess standing twenty paces away. It was plain that she had been running, for she held her hand to her side and was out of breath.
At once I pointed to the chestnut, and she darted behind its trunk. As she did so, the bailiff came running, with his dogs before him and the chauffeur halting behind.
Before he had reached the corner, I stepped out and held him up.
“If you value your dogs,” said I, “you’ll call them to heel.”
In a sense, it was a bow at a venture: but I wanted to spare the dogs and I thought that, if he was fond of them, he would probably see the wisdom of not putting up a resistance which they would be sure to abet.
As luck would have it, I seemed to have done the right thing, for he called them hoarsely by name and I saw his fingers trembling, as he made to seize their collars and hold them fast.
Leaving Rowley with Grieg, we others returned to the house.
It was a curious procession that presently crossed the court – the bailiff bent well-nigh double, to keep his hold on his dogs, the chauffeur skulking behind him with his hands in the air, as much afraid of the bailiff as of what was behind, Bell, imperturbable as ever and looking remarkably spruce, and I, very hot and dusty and something ashamed of a victory which had been so easily won.
As we approached the mansion, the Duke looked out of a window upon the first floor.
“Hullo,” he said.
“Where’s Hanbury?” said I.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m locked in.”
George was fast in a closet that opened out of the parlour in which we had dined: and, since he had proved it a prison out of which, without tools, you could not possibly break, when we had brought him out, we ushered the bailiff in.
“Grieg all right?” said George. “Not that I care particularly. He’s got a nasty mind.”
“I’m just going to get him,” said I. I pointed to the chauffeur. “The Duke’s upstairs, under key. Will you let him out and lock up this wallah instead? If we put him with Grieg or the bailiff, they’ll break his neck.”
“And my lady?” says George.
“This is her show,” said I. “I should have bought it as you did, if she hadn’t stepped out of a thicket two miles away.”
With that, I called Bell and left George rubbing his nose…
I found Grieg nursing his fury, as a pot full of water that simmers upon the fire.
When I bade him rise, he would not, but when the servants would have raised him, he shook them off.
I fingered my chin.
“It’s no pleasure to them to touch you: but, if you don’t want to be handled, you’d better do as you’re told.”
Somehow he got to his feet and stood shaking with rage.
“Next time, by God,” he said thickly, and left it there.
“Put him with the bailiff,” said I, and they marched him off.
I watched them wheel into the court. Then I turned to the chestnut tree.
“You promised,” I said, “to stay in the woods till I sent.”
The Grand Duchess came forth.
“I know,” she said. “Who – who was it that fired?”
“Grieg’s pistol went off,” I said curtly.
The Grand Duchess stopped in her tracks.
“I will not be spoken to like that.”
“And I will not have promises broken,” I said steadily.
The Grand Duchess came to me quietly and stood looking into my face with fire in her eyes. I hope I met her gaze squarely.
“How dare you?” she breathed.
“Because I’m right,” said I. “I said that I wouldn’t move, unless you gave
me your word. I was right to exact that promise. This twopenny rough and tumble might have gone wrong.”
“What if it had?”
“You would have been safe,” said I.
“I don’t value my safety.”
“I know that,” said I.
My lady shrugged her shoulders and glanced at her wrist.
“Time’s getting on,” she said. “I hate to ask you, but, if you would drive us to Vigil…”
I turned on my heel and left her without a word.
The tyres of the car Grieg had used were of the same size as ours, so, when Rowley and Bell had eaten, they took out three of his tubes to replace the three of ours which the snags had pricked. Then they took his sparking-plugs and those of the car I had bought, so that both the cars were disabled and could only be moved by hand. While they were doing these things, George was pouring the petrol into the tank of the Rolls, and I was scouring the stables for one of the farmer’s men.
At last a maidservant told me that these were all in the fields, except the groom we had seen the night before, and that he had withdrawn to the cellar on hearing the shot.
“Tell him he’ll hear another, if he doesn’t come up.”
The man came in fear which he took no pains to conceal. But I think he was something dull and the strangeness of the proceedings had disordered his wits.
When I had reassured him, I showed him the keys of the closet and the bedroom where the chauffeur was shut.
“Your master,” I said, “would be very glad of these keys. But I haven’t done with them yet. So I’m going to take you with me – for a ten-mile run. Then I’ll hand them over to you and you can walk back.”
Whilst I was speaking, the Rolls stole into the court.
“At last,” said the Duke, getting up from the cloister’s bench and throwing to some pigeons the end of his cigarette. “Was that your last cigarette?”
“Yes,” said I.
“Oh, hell,” says he. “I wish I could smoke a pipe.”
With that, he climbed into the car.
When I told the groom to follow—
“What’s this?” said the Duke.
“My orders,” said I shortly.
He looked black enough at that, but said no more.
I bade the servants get in and the groom stand between them and hold to the backs of their chairs.
When the Grand Duchess did not appear, I told George to sound the horn.
He did so, and, after a little, he did so again.
The Duke lifted up his voice.
“Leonie!” he bawled. “Leonie!”
There was no reply, and, after waiting a minute, I entered the house quickly and passed upstairs.
The doors of the cells were open, except, of course, that behind which the chauffeur lay, but, though I looked into each, they were empty enough.
As I stood in the passage, frowning, a cool draught of air made itself felt…
At once I ran to the stair at the farther end and, hardly knowing why I did so, began to descend the steps.
The Grand Duchess was standing in the doorway that gave to the fields, leaning against the old jamb, with her eyes on the sunlit meadows, as though she was deep in thought.
“The – the car is ready,” I said.
She neither spoke nor turned, but she put out a little hand.
I do not think the man is born that could have withstood such a gesture of such a maid.
I know I came to her quickly and put her hand to my lips.
Then I looked up to meet her eyes.
“I think you must hate me,” she said.
In that moment my world was changed.
Everything I knew and cared for – my friends, my home, my horses, the open air and the sunlight, all that made up my life seemed suddenly dependent for their value upon her smile.
“Oh, my dear,” I said, and could have bitten my tongue.
She did not seem to see my confusion, for she had lowered her eyes, and, on a sudden impulse, again I kissed her hand.
I looked up to find her smiling.
“You take refuge in deeds,” she said.
Then she put her hands behind her and leaned back against the wall.
“Paul’s not out of the wood,” she said quietly. “Even at Vigil he won’t be out of the wood. Not until he is proclaimed. And in need I – we have no one to help us as you have done. Supposing…where could I find you?”
“At Vigil,” said I. “You shall have the address tonight.”
She stood very still.
“I – I didn’t mean that,” she said.
“I know. I’d like to be – in the background.”
“I – I didn’t mean that either,” she said.
“I know that,” said I.
She turned and looked over the meadows and up at the bluff.
“Will you promise to be careful?” she said. And then, “I heard what Grieg said.”
“I will do anything you ask me,” I said unsteadily.
The Grand Duchess drew in her breath.
“Just now you spoke of the background… If I let you stay in the background – would you…understand?”
“Yes,” said I.
She looked round swiftly.
“Perhaps you will – one day,” she said.
4: At the Sign of ‘The Square of Carpet’
I suppose I had heard of Vigil, but I had never met one who had been there or seen, so far as I remember, its name in print: and, while that is nothing to go by, for I am not well informed, I have since referred to the guide-books to find the city dismissed with half a line. This is to me a mystery, for, though, perhaps, of little importance, Vigil is more attractive than many a well-known resort, and I can only suppose that the singular absence of any kind of hotel has stifled again and again its claim to renown.
The town lies among mountains upon either side of a river which flows very swift, and, if you approach from the East, you will suddenly see it beneath you, spread out like a map and resembling those fabulous cities that painters raised in their backgrounds five hundred years ago.
Now, when we first saw it, George and I were afoot, as well as alone, and so were able to loiter as long as we pleased.
The Rolls had gone on to Vigil, with the servants upon her front seat. I had thought this arrangement a wise one, and George had agreed. Four miles from the city, therefore, the change had been made, and, almost before our guests knew it, the servants had taken our places, and we were out in the road.
The Duke sat still, but the Grand Duchess started up with a little cry.
“I beg you’ll excuse us,” I said, with my hat in my hand. “It’s better so. The less attention attracted, the fewer the questions asked.”
“If you want another reason,” said George, “Chandos dislikes the limelight, until he has shaved.”
The Grand Duchess smiled.
“I expect you know best,” she said. “I don’t know how we happened to fall into such good hands. Goodbye – for the moment.”
“So long,” said the Duke casually. “An’ many thanks. What do you want for this car?”
“She’s not for sale,” said Hanbury.
Then I nodded to Bell, and the Rolls slid forward.
When the dust had settled, we walked down the road in its wake and presently came to the standpoint which, had we not been afoot, we should not have enjoyed.
I have said that the town was below us, and so it was: but it was four miles distant, so that we had by no means a bird’s eye view. The air, however, was clear, as is the air of those parts, and the red and grey roofs and buildings stood out very sharp and pleasing, with the brilliant blue of the river cutting them across like a sash.
We at once perceived the cathedral, thrusting two massive towers, and a building by the side of the river which must, we thought, be the palace, for there were trees about it and open space. Four bridges spanned the river, one of them covered and crooked and so, I suppose, very old, and far t
o the North we could make out a big parade-ground upon which we could see quite plainly the flash of steel.
Here let me say what I should have set down before this – that the moment we came to the frontier we knew that the Prince was not dead, for the flags were mast-head high, and, though we asked no questions, it was everywhere perfectly plain that nothing unusual had occurred.
At last I turned from the city and looked at George.
“I should like to stay at Vigil,” I said. “The servants can go to Salzburg and fetch our things.”
“Very well,” said George slowly. “I’ve only one thing against it, and that’s Duke Paul. Not that he’ll trouble us: he was plainly immensely relieved when we got out of the car. But I should like to forget him. Intercourse with that youth is like drinking a glass of cheap claret which is badly corked. Long live Prince Nicholas.”
“I’m with you,” said I. “If the old fellow dies, we’ll leave Vigil the very next day.”
“Once he’s proclaimed,” said George. “Did you promise to stay till then?”
“Practically,” said I.
George nodded approvingly.
“She’s out of the top drawer,” he said. “I’d like to see her on Flattery, with scent breast high and the merchant making for Bulrush by way of The Dale. Why the devil is she backing this waster?”
“You can search me,” said I, and meant it.
For a little we smoked in silence, regarding the distant city, so gay in the sun.
“I can’t understand it,” said George violently. “Of course she loathes him – that’s nothing. The girl he found in the chorus loathed the sound of his voice. He is – loathsome. Very well. Loathsome or not, she’s got to marry him. Why? Because she’s the obvious person to play the Princess. If you want another reason, she’s the head of the second line. She’s betrothed to the heir apparent, not to the man. She goes with the throne.”
“I agree,” said I heartily.
“Then why the blazes doesn’t she let him rip? Let him work out his own damnation and lose his throne?”
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