5:  The Vials of Wrath

If time had seemed precious but a moment ago, I had now set up the sand-glass in very truth.

George Hanbury’s minutes were numbered. In a quarter of an hour, at most, he would be down and out, and how long he would be senseless heaven alone could tell.

When I told him what I had done, I heard him start. Then he threw back his head and began to laugh.

“You must admit it’s funny,” he said. “The vicious circle’s nothing. We’ve looped the immoral loop. That’s not so bad for a drug-fiend. I wonder how long I shall last.”

But I could not laugh with him, and I think he only jested for my sake to keep up my heart.

How we had missed the stairs I could not conceive. They could not be hard of access, for everyone else on our level had been gone out of earshot before we were out of our box. Yet we had passed no staircase, nor so much as a gap in the wall.

Suddenly I saw that the stairs must lead out of a dummy box and that we must have gone clean past them, expecting and trying to find them upon the opposite side…

At once we decided to make a great effort to gain them before the drug took effect. This, of course, by entering every box until we came to the dummy that hid the head of the stairs.

I was now armed in some sort, for I had never put down the mischievous bottle of wine, and, though I longed for a pistol, I felt sorry for whoever might oppose me until the bottle was broke.

We entered the passage again, using what caution we could and listening carefully, for the hubbub below us was fainter and an echo answered such cries as still arose.

We had entered, I think, three boxes without result and were in the act of emerging to try the fourth when the flash of a light behind us betrayed a torch.

At once we shrank back, and when I had put the door to, I watched the light approaching by means of the crack I had left.

Its approach was slow and fitful. Now the beam was thrown forward to flood the passage with light, and now it was plainly directed into a box, for, when the passage was dark, I could see the play of its radiance upon the fronts of the boxes on the other side of the floor. Whoever was using the torch was making a thorough search.

Very soon I heard the footfalls of more than one man, and George, who was now armed as I was, touched my arm.

“Let them come in,” he whispered, “and meet it on the back of the head.”

I nodded my assent.

Three boxes away, however, the search came to an end.

“By —, they’ve gone!” screeched Grieg. “This is their — box. Go and fetch one of those swine from the head of the stairs.”

Somebody blundered off the way they had come, and Grieg stood still waiting, with his torch pointing down at the ground.

So far as I could judge, the stairs were some ten boxes distant, for, after perhaps half a minute, I saw a fresh light approaching and heard the steps of two men.

Grieg hailed the newcomer fiercely.

“You’ve let them go by, you —. They’re not up here.”

“They must be,” declared the other.

“I tell you they’re not,” raved Grieg. “I’ve been into every box.”

His words amazed me, for I could have sworn them untrue. Yet why should Grieg be lying? Why…

Then in a flash I perceived the peculiar truth.

Our ‘vicious circle’ had saved us as nothing else could have done. Grieg must have entered our box very soon after we had left it by climbing into the next and, finding us gone, immediately followed behind us, searching the boxes as he went. And now he had gone full circle, as we had done, and, because he had not found us, believed us escaped.

“Every — box,” Grieg repeated, stamping his foot.

I could hear the man protesting that we had not gone by the stairs.

“Then where are they gone?” barked Grieg. “Answer me that.”

“They have not gone by,” said the other, “since the lights were put out. With my torch I saw every being that used the stairs.”

“I saw them myself in this box the instant before.”

“Then are they here, Major.” Instinctively he lowered his voice. “Perhaps—”

“I tell you I’ve been the round, and they’re not on this floor. Is there any way out but the staircase?”

“There’s a trap in the roof,” said the other. “But how could they ever find that in darkness like this? I could not find it myself. It leads out of one of the boxes, but I cannot say which.”

“Seventeen,” murmured his companion.

“Is it shut?” said Grieg.

“It is always shut,” said the other – a statement I fully believed.

There was a moment’s silence.

Then—

“Very good,” said Grieg, grimly. “It comes down to this. If they didn’t go by you, the swine must be here.”

“I have said so, Major.”

“Not so fast,” said Grieg. “It follows that, if they’re not here, they must have gone through your hands.” He paused significantly. “Now we’re going to look once more – you and I together, my friend. I’ll go round this way and you can go that, and if we don’t find them between us – I go to Weber tomorrow at ten o’clock. But for me, he’d have closed this hell-hole two years ago.”

With that, he bade the third man repair to the head of the stairs, and the fellow was off like a rabbit, as though he were glad to be gone.

The next moment the search had begun.

Here let me say that, though all these things have taken some time to tell, not more than five minutes had passed since Hanbury had drunk the drugged wine, and, as the two girls had survived for some fifteen minutes, I began to have hope that we might yet win safety before he collapsed. But George had, of course, drunk deep and had taken his portion at a draught.

Now, which way Grieg was going I could not tell, but I prayed that he was coming our, way; for he was sure to be armed, and if I could knock him senseless, his pistol, I was ready to wager, would bring us clear of the place.

With this heathenish prayer on my lips, I drew back into a corner beside the door, while George took his stand on the opposite side of the box.

From where I now stood, I could no longer see the light of our enemy’s torch, and, what was disconcerting, I could not hear him approaching or any sound that he made.

Feverishly I strained my ears.

If they had changed their plan, and he was not coming, our course must be altered, too. If—

There, I think, my heart stood still. The fellow was at the next box – I could hear the movement of his clothing as he lifted an arm.

If he gave that sign of his presence he gave no more, and though the moments slid by he never moved. He seemed to have made up his mind to stay still where he was.

It occurred to me that he had heard us – was listening again, to make sure, before he gave the alarm. This was now possible, for the floor of the house was empty, and in place of the recent uproar, a horrid, deadly silence possessed the place. In the distance a glass shivered, and I guessed that his fellow was to blame. What remained of the drugged wine had already soaked my shirt-sleeve, and all my forearm was wet.

All these things I digested, but the man never moved. He might have known that time was his ally and that the longer he waited the nearer George came to collapse.

The box smelled very stale. Perfume, tobacco and liquor had done their work, and the sordid plush and hangings told an offensive tale. Yet people had sat there that night and would sit there the next and the next – unless Weber…

The man was moving.

As he entered the box I hit him full on the temple – an ugly blow. The bottle shivered, and the fellow reeled against George, who held him up.

I caught his torch as he dropped it, and together we laid him down.

I turned the beam on to his face. This was streaming with blood, but I knew it for the face of the man who had greeted us on our arrival and brought us upstairs…

I flashed the torch round the box for Grieg to see, and listened with all my might.

No sound came to my ears. The noise of the bottle breaking had meant nothing to Grieg.

“George,” I whispered, “are you fit?”

“Yes,” he breathed. “A – a little drowsy, you know.”

“We’ll do it yet,” said I. “Box Seventeen.”

I felt the man’s pockets for a pistol, but he had no weapon upon him nor had one fallen from his hand.

The next box was numbered ‘Twelve.’

Hoping very much that Grieg was not so sure of his bearings as to find suspicious the sudden advance of our torch, we hastened along the passage to ‘Box Seventeen’. A glance at the filthy roof showed us the trap.

At the same instant, in the box directly opposed, we saw the flash of Grieg’s torch. Any moment its beam might betray us, but in view of George’s condition I dared not wait.

In an instant I had set the table beneath the trap, and, while George held the sorry block steady, I mounted and put up my hands.

I was able to touch the trap – with two inches to spare.

Now the trap was neither hinged nor fastened, but only sunk into place, and I had it free in a moment and ready to come away: but I dared not cast it outward for fear of the clatter it might make, so I disengaged it carefully and lifted it clear and down.

“Here, George,” I whispered, and gave it into his hands.

He received it, certainly, but the wood was heavy, and I had asked too much of my failing friend.

Somehow he let it go, and it fell with a hollow clatter that could have been heard in the street.

“Oh, my God,” he said faintly: and Grieg called out sharply and I saw the eye of his torch.

I was down on the floor with an arm about Hanbury’s shoulders, holding him up.

“One more effort,” I breathed. “On to the table, George, and I’ll put you up.”

I felt him brace himself. Then he mounted the table and put up his arms.

“Ready?” said I, taking hold, and felt him nod.

I thrust with all my might, and I am a powerful man.

He was up, out – waist-high out of the trap, when his body suddenly sagged.

The last effort had been too much, or – irony of ironies – the fresh air had abetted the drug.

“George!” I shouted. “George!”

I might have called upon the dead.

He hung there, between earth and heaven, with his arms spread without the building and me below, like Atlas, holding him up.

And after a little, finding his weight too heavy, I let him slide back slowly into my arms.

Then I laid him down on the floor, took off my overcoat and waited for Grieg.

 

I had now no weapon, for George had lost his bottle and there was none in the box: but my nerves were much more steady than they had been when I was waiting to fell Grieg’s man. This may seem curious, for our plight was now more desperate than it had been before, but I have once or twice been at variance and have found the entrance to a quarrel more trying than the quarrel itself.

Had I had time I would have carried George Hanbury into another box, for Grieg must have seen our endeavour to escape, by the roof and, if he remembered the number, would make straight for ‘Box Seventeen’: but I dared not be caught in the passage with George in my arms and, as I dismissed the notion, I heard the murmur of voices five or six paces away.

Grieg was bringing the men from the head of the stairs.

I cannot think why I had failed to foresee so obvious a move. But at least I could read its lesson – that three men armed to one whose hands are empty are odds which no one can face.

In a flash I was out of the box and was wrenching at the handle of its door – the handle without, which a man must use to come in. Happily the metal was base, for almost at once it snapped. I whipped back into the box and slammed the door.

As I did so, three men came running…

I heard Grieg feel for the handle and let out a frightful curse. A moment later he flung his weight upon the door.

For this at least I was ready, for my back was braced against the opposite side, and so far from budging the woodwork, I think he but bruised himself, for he did not repeat his assault.

It now seemed clear that they would attempt to enter from one of the boxes which stood upon either side, but I did not envy them the venture and I do not think they liked it themselves, for they whispered a lot together before I saw the glow of a torch emerging from the box on the right.

I had turned to counter this manoeuvre in some confidence and was flat against the side of the box, awaiting the arm or the leg which must be thrown round the partition and over the balustrade when a deafening roar on my left told me that Grieg had fired directly into the lock of the door.

This, however, did not fly open, and the fellow flung himself against it with a passionate oath.

A kick would have done the business.

Beneath his weight, the door gave way, as though it had never been latched: not meeting the resistance he looked for, Grieg crashed into the box and, fouling the table, fell headlong on to the floor.

I was upon him in an instant, and, remembering that he was left-handed, had caught his left wrist, whilst with my other hand I took the man by the throat.

For a second, perhaps, he lay still. Then he struck me a blow on the temple that I can feel to this day. I thought my neck was broken, but, though I felt sick and dazed, I had the sense to hold on and to raise my elbow to parry his second blow. I felt his fingers seeking my throat, but I had the reach, and though his nails scratched me he could not take hold. Then he heaved like a horse that is down, and before I knew what was happening, the fellow was up on his knees, and so was I.

He had, of course, hoisted himself by the balustrade, but I think that movement will show the strength he had, for he had to lift both of us up, and I am a heavy man.

Again he sought my throat, but I shook him off. And that I think was a feint, for an instant later he gave another heave and brought us up to our feet. As we came up he turned and, before I could get my balance, I was back to the balustrade.

I now saw that he meant, if he could, to break my back, and that each of his three great efforts had been made to that end. Them I had not foreseen: but now, by the grace of God, I foresaw the fourth.

As he flung himself forward, I managed to writhe to one side, so that we both fell sideways on to the balustrade, and though he strove like a madman to roll me round, I was ready for this endeavour and brought it to nought.

By this time my strength was failing, and if one of the others had come to Grieg’s assistance I must at once have succumbed: but Grieg could not call upon them because I was gripping his throat, and though, no doubt, they would have obeyed his orders, I fancy they were glad of an excuse for standing away from a pistol which might any moment go off. Yet, even without their aid, their leader was wearing me down.

It was only by the greatest endeavour that I could keep his pistol in check, and though I had a hold on his throat my fingers were aching unbearably under the strain.

He struck me again savagely and I shook him with all my might: he flung back into the box and dashed me against the wall: he tried to trip me and slammed me over the heart: then he put up his hand and tore my trembling fingers away from his throat.

I confess he deserved this triumph, for, though his lungs must have been bursting, he had made all the running and had never once ceased to attack.

I could hear him striving to shout, but his voice was gone. Then he sought my throat again, but I caught his wrist.

We were now both much exhausted and breathing hard, and only the thought of the pistol kept me from letting him go. Indeed, I was desperate, for I had the feeling that he was nursing his strength and that after a moment or two he would break away.

All at once I became aware that trouble of some sort was brewing without the box, for I heard a gasp of protest and the fall of a heavy body upon the stone; but before I could think what this meant, Grieg made a mighty effort to shake me off.

I am ready to confess that he did with me as he pleased, except that he could not free his pistol arm. I might have been a man of straw, so lightly did he fling and buffet me this way and that. I had to release his right wrist that my left hand might go to the help of my right, and so met a punishment that bade fair any moment to lay me low. Indeed, I hung on blindly, like a man in a trance.

Had he cared to drop the pistol I am sure that he could have killed me, for I should have let his wrist go without a thought: but we were both beyond tactics and even our instinct was failing beneath the strain.

Suddenly the box was illumined as bright as day.

The light came from behind me and fell on George Hanbury’s face.

He was lying as I had laid him, and the table had fallen across him with its legs in the air. And that is why, I suppose; we had not trampled upon him, for whenever we touched the table we had, by one consent, contrived to sheer off for fear of becoming involved.

At this moment Grieg’s wrist was up, but, he swept it down with a ghastly croak of triumph, and before I could grasp his meaning, fired full at George’s face.

The horror of that action sent the blood to my head.

The fury of hatred possessed me as never before, and I think I was mad for a moment and was given a madman’s strength.

He must have resisted my onslaught, but I cannot remember that he did so, and he might have been a lay figure for all the opposition I knew.

I tore the pistol from his fingers and hurled it down. Then I took him by the throat with both hands, thrust him to the front of the box and cast him bodily over the balustrade.

As I swung about, panting—

“Well done, sir,” said Bell’s voice.

 

The light of his torch blinded me, and I bade him throw the beam on to George and went down on my knees.

There was upon him no blood that I could see, but he, of course, was senseless and could not speak for himself. I therefore dragged off his coats and turned him about, but his shirt as far as his waist was nowhere stained. As I laid him back I noticed a graze on his chin which might have been made by a bullet that passed him by. Recalling as well as I could the angle at which the infamous shot had been fired, I ripped away the carpet at the edge of the box and there to my relief saw a bullet sunk in the wood.

“He missed him,” I said unsteadily, and very near burst into tears.

Then I got to my feet and leaned back against the wall.

“Who have you got there?” I said.

“I don’t know, sir,” said Bell from the doorway. “There’s one lying out in the passage, and this one put up his hands.”

“Give me the torch,” said I.

I saw a tall pock-marked fellow, with beady eyes, good enough, I should say, for a murder, but not very fond of a fight, for he looked the picture of terror, and, feeling my eyes upon him, he wrung out a sickly smile.

“D’you belong to this café?” I said.

He shook his head.

“Then why are you here?”

“I often come in the evenings.”

“And sometimes you’re wanted,” said I, “for this sort of work.”

He made me some shuffling answer I could not understand.

“Did you know the lights would go out?”

He nodded fearfully.

“Who told you?”

“The manager gave me a sign.”

“What did you do then?”

“I went to the head of the stairs.”

That was enough for me. The man was a common bully, known to The Square of Carpet and always ready for hire.

“Listen,” said I. “We shall both of us know you again. If you lie about tonight’s work you can pray for your soul.”

The fellow grinned horribly and seemed to sag at the knees.

I told him to turn to his left and lead the way…

The manager was lying as we had laid him down, but his heart was beating strongly and the blood from the wound on his head was beginning to cake. By his side lay a loaded truncheon, caught by a thong to his wrist. I had missed it when I searched him, for his sleeve had fallen upon it when we laid the man down; and truly the sight of it shocked me, for I ought to have known that the man would never have sought us without a weapon of some kind, and had I but looked till I found it neither George nor I would have had so narrow an escape.

We returned to ‘Box Seventeen’.

The man that Bell had knocked senseless was now showing signs of life, and, when he was fit to sit up, I drove him on to his feet. Then I bade him and his comrade take up George Hanbury gently and carry him down to the door. Bell went before them, and I, with Grieg’s torch and pistol, followed behind.

We were down at last and were standing in the sinister hall.

There Bell and I took George Hanbury, holding him up between us, with his arms round our necks.

Then I addressed the two men.

“No doubt you’d like to clear out, but you won’t do that. My friend was drugged. The manager went for me and I knocked him out. Major Grieg fired at my friend and I threw him out of the box. You’re going to go to the police and tell them these facts. Excuse yourselves if you can: but tell half a lie about me and I’ll hunt you down and break you as you deserve. And now lead on. If you try to escape we shall shoot. Make straight for the cathedral. Accost the first policeman you see and take no notice of us.”

We passed out into the street.

There was a policeman on duty, pacing the cathedral square. At a nod from me the two walked boldly towards him, and, when I had seen them accost him, Bell and I bore away. A moment later we were beneath the shadow cast by the church.

We found a sheltered corner, and there I sat down, with Hanbury lying beside me and his head in my lap.

And, while Bell ran for the Rolls, I fell asleep.

 

If I slept then, I slept no more that night; but passed the hours in an infirmity of purpose of which I shall always be ashamed.

In the ordinary way I should have summoned a doctor, for I had no means of telling whether George was in danger or no. Yet, if there was trouble to come, my disclosure of George’s condition would involve us up to the neck.

That trouble was coming seemed likely. That I had killed Grieg seemed certain, for he fell some sixteen feet and had uttered no sound. I found it hard to believe that, if he were dead, no action would be taken to bring his assailant to book.

Of the ultimate result of such action I had no fear, but I greatly feared an inquest at which I should be cross-questioned and requested to furnish a reason for Grieg’s attempt upon our lives.

It follows that, unless one was needed, to call in a doctor was the last thing I wanted to do – yet, if Hanbury’s condition required one, the very first.

Between these two courses I hovered, as a dog between two masters that are calling him different ways, with my hand upon George’s pulse, which I was forever locating and immediately losing again.

I was so much occupied with my dilemma that not until Bell was leaving to go to his bed did I remember to ask him how he happened to be in the background at the moment when I needed him most.

His tale was soon told.

“I knew you weren’t armed, sir, and all of a sudden I wondered if it might be a trap: so I put the Rolls away and walked back to see. Just as I got there people were coming away; but I didn’t see you. When they were all of them gone, I went inside. It was all in darkness, and I was just turning away, when I heard something fall with a crash The next moment you called Mr Hanbury. Of course I knew from your voice there was something amiss, but I had no torch of my own, and I thought I should never reach you till I found the foot of the stairs.”

“We owe you our lives,” said I.

“Oh, no, sir,” said Bell.

“Yes, we do. But for the light of your torch, Grieg wouldn’t have seen Mr Hanbury and wouldn’t have fired. It was that that made me see red and throw him out.”

This was the plain truth: and I am very certain that, if Bell had not had the wit to go to The Square of Carpet, neither George nor I would have ever been seen again. Indeed, I learned later on that the place was believed to be the grave of several strangers who, finding nowhere to sleep, had gone to The Square of Carpet to make a night of it and had been, poor fellows, so cordially abetted in this artless enterprise that they had been seen no more.

It was past midday when to my great relief George Hanbury opened his eyes. What was more, beyond a shocking headache and an astonishing thirst, he seemed not one penny the worse and was all agog in an instant to hear my tale.

That trouble might come of Grieg’s death he would not allow, “because,” said he, “who goes to The Square of Carpet goes to the wars: enter that den of thieves and you put yourself out of court.” Though I agreed that we had now little to fear – for the only witnesses of our concern with the matter would, I was sure, respect my menaces – I could not help thinking that Vigil could scarce be so lawless that no hue and cry would be raised: but the question was never settled, because, except in our mouths, it never arose.

Grieg’s bodyservant was sent for that afternoon, and that evening our butler told Rowley that Grieg had had the misfortune to break both his legs. If his life was ever in danger I do not know, but, all things considered, I count him a fortunate man. I imagine he held his tongue – as did everyone else. What story was told to the police I neither know nor care, but I doubt that they asked any questions or did any more than bestow the injured men.

For myself, I was very stiff, and one side of my face was bruised and something swollen from temple to chin: but the following day the swelling had disappeared, and since my eye was not black, no one, I think, would have known that I had suffered violence of any sort. This was as well, for the day after that was Wednesday, and the butler had procured us two stalls for the gala performance of Tosca which the Grand Duchess was to attend. Still, I was well content to fleet two days securely, passing much of my time in the loggia and generally taking my ease, for our hour at The Square of Carpet had shaken me, and, whenever I see the word ‘death-trap’, I think of a row of boxes and a passage that has no end.

 

Though we rested, we did not waste time, but continually reviewed the position in the hope of perceiving some way of mating Johann.

George very soon came round to my way of thinking, namely, that command of the palace was as good as command of the throne; but, though we approached the pass from a hundred angles, we could see no feasible way of preventing or even of curing the mischief which the death of the Prince would most surely unloose.

Morning and afternoon the Grand Duchess drove out with Duke Paul. If the papers may be believed, their visits afforded great pleasure wherever they went. How much of that emotion was inspired by the sight of Duke Paul I cannot tell, but though the reports made good reading and though I was sure that Johann must bear the Grand Duchess a grudge, I could not believe that he had just cause for alarm and I could not see Riechtenburg rising to pull him out of the saddle and set up Duke Paul.

We never questioned Bell or Rowley about their new work, relying upon them to tell us if anything happened of which we ought to be told. On Tuesday they came back radiant, because they had driven Sully, who had, it seemed, talked to them freely and had shaken them both by the hand. “And, if you please, sir,” said Rowley, “speaking of Maintenance, he said that the house was well named, and her ladyship laughed and cried out ‘Like masters, like men.’” When I spoke of the morrow, they said the Grand Duchess had said that she would not need them by day, but that she would be glad of their service at half past eight that night.

I had expected so much and was considerably tempted to make one of the crowd at the doors of the opera-house, to give myself the pleasure of watching my lady arrive; for I was childishly eager to see her using our car as a state conveyance and our servants waiting upon her and discharging their elegant office as best they knew. But, if I had done so, I could not have been in my place in time to witness her entrance into the house, and to miss that would have been foolish, for the occasion was extraordinary and Duke Paul’s and her reception was sure to signify matter which I should be able to read.

Accordingly, Hanbury and I were in our seats in good time, with our eyes and our ears wide open and very well pleased with our stalls, which gave us an excellent view of the royal box.

The theatre was not very large. Its less expensive parts were already full, the white linen clothing of the peasants contrasting strangely with their neighbours’ attire. A constant stream was filling the rest of the house, and a better opportunity of observing the burghers of Vigil I cannot conceive.

The women were mostly handsome and very smart, but few wore jewels of any value, and I do not remember one vulgar or copious display. The men, though courtly, were not very well turned out: but they were a shrewd-looking lot, reserved, slow alike to laughter and wrath and not at all of the kind that is carried away. There were several officers present, all of them wearing full dress: quite a third of these were clad in the black and gold of the Black Hussars – a fact which mildly surprised me, for I had imagined that bodyguard duty permitted but little leave and that all the regiment was as good as confined to barracks until that duty was done.

This opinion was swiftly confirmed.

“Half the Body Guard’s here,” said a man who was seated behind me. “That comes of a colonel who has the ear of the Prince.”

“It’s irregular,” said his companion, “But Johann is a law to himself.”

“He fears the Prince,” said the other.

“Soon he will have no one to fear,” was the dark reply.

Here I missed a sentence or two, for George and I had to rise to allow some newcomers to pass.

As we sat down—

“He is not popular enough,” said the man who had spoken first. “The people’s darling can take his neighbour’s wife, and the world will dance at his wedding: but anyone else will have to change his café.”

“My friend,” said the other, “I think you employ seven clerks. Because there are fireworks at the palace, are you going to give them a holiday that they may go and throw stones?”

I could not hear the answer, but I could guess what it was.

“A hundred years ago,” said the other, “the throne touched every shepherd that sleeps on the hills: but now a penny stamp costs three half pence, no matter whose image it bears.”

Here the orchestra began to tune up, and a rustle of expectation ran through the house. Everyone’s face was turned to the royal box, and a little knot of people that had not taken their seats was held by an attendant in a doorway against its will.

I heard the conductor’s baton strike on his music-stand.

Then the footlights went up, the music burst out and everyone got to their feet.

The Grand Duchess was in all her glory. A diamond tiara adorned her beautiful head, diamonds flashed from her throat and a heavy diamond bracelet was blazing upon her left arm. Over her white silk frock the crimson sash of some order hung from bare shoulder to waist.

As she came to her place, the cheering broke out, but, instead of bowing, she turned at once to Duke Paul who had followed her in. As he took his place, she made him a reverence – this very slowly and with infinite grace, and I am glad to say that he bowed low in return. Then they turned to the house and bowed their thanks, she making it very clear that the homage rendered was his and falling back a little to point her argument.

The Duke was in uniform and bore himself well enough.

In the midst of the scene, which was very cordial, a man stepped out of the background to stand between the Duke and my lady in the front of the box.

It was Duke Johann – come to share a triumph he could not prevent.

I saw the Grand Duchess observe him and I saw her start of surprise. The next instant her little gold bag fell into the aisle below.

As a voice cried ‘Hurray for Johann,’ she addressed Johann and pointed, and I saw him look down.

With her hand still pointing to the gangway, she smiled and spoke again and looked him full in the face.

The gesture was unmistakable. She was requesting him to send someone to recover her bag.

I never saw her look so charming, so gracious and so royal.

Johann was gravelled.

Obey, and he was her servant: refuse, and he was no gentleman.

For a moment the fellow wavered. Then he turned to the back of the box.

As the cheering died suddenly down, the Grand Duchess took her seat, and the Duke took his. An instant later the lights in the house were lowered, and the overture was begun.

“And so to bed,” murmured George. “I’ll bet a ducat that Johann has sent for his car. And I don’t envy his chauffeur – or his ox or his ass or anything that is his. I’ve seen styles cramped before: but that was a permanent wave.”

 

The first act was over, and we had just risen and passed to the end of our row, when a servant of the theatre was beside us and was asking very respectfully if we would show him the counterfoils of the tickets which had vouched for our seats.

When I produced mine, he immediately handed me a note upon which was written in pencil the number of my stall.

That this was from the Grand Duchess I had little doubt, for I had told Bell how to find me in case any need should arise.

The servant did not wait for an answer, but left at once.

I opened the note quickly.

 

Anger has been burned to the ground. May I have the car to drive there this very night?

 

I thrust the note into my pocket and turned to George.

“Come to the hall,” I said.

George told me later that I was trembling with rage. I daresay it is true. For I knew that Anger had been burned, not by accident, but by design.

No matter whose hand had done it, Johann was the fountain of malice from which this horror had sprung.

The Grand Duchess was dangerous. The burning of Anger would distract her – draw her away from the scene. More. A woman of less precious metal could not have appeared at the theatre, with her ears singing from such a barbarous blow. Besides, maybe it would teach her to keep her hand out of the pie.

George read the note and caught his lip in his teeth.

“Poor lady,” he said quietly. “That’s a hell of a price to pay for backing a rotten horse.”

“I shall go with her,” I said. “In Rowley’s place.” He nodded. “But promise me this – that, until I get back, you’ll never go out alone. Our score’s more heavy than hers. St Martin, Barabbas, Grieg and the use of the Rolls. Johann’s got it in for us red-hot.”

“I’ll hold the fort,” said George. “But for heaven’s sake don’t be long. If the Prince dies while she’s away – well, it’ll be a walk-over for Johann. And, in view of this ‘frightfulness’ – because that is what it is – he ought to have to put up a fight.”

Be sure I agreed with him.

A girl’s home lay in ashes: a blackened ruin smoked where an aged castle had lifted its lovely head. That a man who could approve, if not order, so harsh a wickedness should not only go unpunished but actually profit thereby was not to be borne.

I was powerless and a stranger. Unless he played into my hands, Duke Johann of Riechtenburg had no more to fear from me than from the trout that lay in the mountain streams. It was as likely that he would play into my hands as that those mountain trout would rise at a rubber doll: yet, if he could have known how the deed would move me, I think he would have spared Anger – by no means for love of me, but because one does not sow the seed of sheer hatred, however barren the soil.

Rowley was standing by himself on the farther side of the street, and, as soon as he saw that I saw him, he led the way to the Rolls.

After a moment’s reflection I bade them drive me back to the flat. There I gave them their orders and changed my clothes: as luck would have it, Rowley’s peaked cap and greatcoat fitted me fairly well. Whilst I was changing, Bell put up a small bundle and a little hamper of food; then we went out to the car and I took the driver’s seat.

I turned to Rowley, who was wearing my coat and hat.

“Wait for Mr Hanbury,” I said, “at the door of the house. He will be looking for you. Never let him out of your sight until we return. And don’t let her Highness see you as she comes out.”

“Very good, sir,” said Rowley.

I turned to Bell.

“Her Highness will ask you for my answer to the note which she sent. The answer is ‘Yes’. Stand between her and me as much as you can. She is to think it is Rowley driving the car.”

We took in fuel at a garage, and I drove to where the Rolls had been standing when I had come out of the house. And there I sat by myself for an hour and a half, with Bell patrolling a corner twenty-five paces away.

I think I shall remember that street, its depth and its breadth and its shadows, until I die. Its silence and emptiness faithfully reflected the inaction to which I was miserably condemned, than which I would have suffered more gladly the most gruelling toil. I could not sleep for thinking: and, when I would have thought to some purpose, my fancies raged together, as the heathen, and I imagined vain things. I have seldom found time so slow, so heavy-laden and so unprofitable, and when at length other cars began to arrive and Bell advised me to approach the opera-house, the fever of rage had left me and I was sick at heart.

Johann might play his cards badly, and the Grand Duchess play hers well: but, play she never so wisely, she could not win, for the cards themselves were against her and she had nothing to play.

Bell lifted his hand again, and the police made room for me to bring the car to the steps…

All was now bustle and excitement.

So far as the traffic was concerned, the police maintained no order, and cars were approaching the building from every side. As may be believed, the confusion was very soon shocking, but at last, to my great relief, I saw a way being cleared for the royal car. This at a cost of convenience which I cannot compute, for the vehicles were massed together, and, if one was to move, then twenty or more must first move to give it place. To make matters worse, the police essayed at this juncture to take control, but, since they did not act in concert, they only aggravated the disorder which had to be seen to be believed. Indeed, I heard later that many of the audience walked home and that others awaited their cars for more than two hours.

When I first arrived, the steps were alive with officials, but no one else: almost at once, however, a crowd began to collect, and within a few moments people were standing ten deep to see the Grand Duchess go by.

I dared not look, but I saw the press sway and scramble and Bell’s hand go up to his hat.

As I uncovered—

“Where’s Johann?” cried a voice.

“Gone to his kennel,” laughed someone, and the cheering broke out.

“Leonie! Leonie!” bawled the crowd, and one or two shouted “Paul!”

The goodwill towards the Grand Duchess was manifest, but, had he appeared without her, I think the Duke’s welcome would have been very cold. Indeed, as they entered the car—

“Every couple’s not a pair,” said a man two paces away.

The door was slammed, and Bell took his seat by my side. As I let in the clutch—

“Leonie!” roared the crowd. “Leonie!”

And somebody cried “When’s the wedding?” and two or three women “Sleep well.”

When we were clear of the cars, Bell told me which way to take, and five minutes later we came to the fine, old mansion in which the Duke was lodged.

As we stopped, the house door was opened, and I saw the servants within…

The Grand Duchess was speaking in English…

“Please say ‘Good night’ and go.”

“I’m damned if I will,” said the Duke. “You’ve had your show and this is where I come in. Why shouldn’t you sup with me?”

“Think it over,” said the Grand Duchess.

“But, damn it, we’re engaged,” snarled the Duke.

“What of that?”

“Oh, don’t be so sticky,” said the Duke. “I’m sick of this play-acting business. Let’s be ourselves.”

“I’m not play-acting,” said the girl. “I never play-act with you except on parade.”

“Oh, put it away,” said the Duke. “As my fiancée you get a hell of a show. If I liked, I could get in your way. But I don’t – I let you have it. Look at tonight. Well, now it’s my turn. I’ve a right to ask you to supper—”

“And I’ve a right to refuse. Please say ‘Good night’ and go.”

“Not so fast,” said the Duke.

“I’m tired,” said the Grand Duchess.

I heard the Duke suck in his breath.

“If I were you,” he said, “I should mind your step. I know you’ve a supper-party, and I know who’s going to be there.”

He got to his feet and descended heavily.

Then he addressed himself to Bell.

“You can tell your employers that her Highness has no further use for their car.”

“Paul,” said the Grand Duchess quickly.

I heard the fellow turn.

“Don’t be foolish, Paul. We can’t sup together alone, as you very well know. And, indeed, I haven’t a party. You can come, if you like, and see.”

There was a little silence.

The Grand Duchess had risen and was standing behind me by the open door of the Rolls.

“Why couldn’t they lend me the car?” said the Duke sullenly.

“Well, you weren’t very civil, Paul. I know you were very worried, but—”

“I don’t know what the hell they expect – I’m not their class. Any way I’m getting tired. Fed up, Leonie. I’m sick of the sight of the house and I’m sick of parades. You have the — car, you have the show – I let you, and—”

“If you’re patient, it’ll soon be your show. I won’t interfere – then.”

“Good night,” said the Duke suddenly.

She gave him her fingers to kiss, and he jerked her out of the car and into his arms.

I heard him kiss her soundly, but she made no noise.

Suddenly she was back in the Rolls, and its door was shut.

As the car slid forward, I heard the Duke’s horse laughter offending the night.

With Bell for guide, I drove at once to the house at which Hanbury and I had dined three nights before.

As the Grand Duchess alighted—

“My note,” she said tremulously. “What is the reply to my note?”

“The answer is ‘Yes’, my lady,” said Bell.

I heard her stifle a sob.

“It is far,” she said. “How – how soon will you be ready to leave?”

“We are ready now, my lady.”

She did not speak again, but turned to the steps, and I heard a door opened and the voice of Madame Dresden begin to utter a greeting and come to a sudden stop.

When I ventured to turn my head, the Countess’ arms were about her, and she was weeping like a child.

 

For the next thirty minutes I sat as though turned to stone, and Bell, beside me on the pavement, never once moved.

I do not wish to labour the matter or to give the Duke’s behaviour a colour it does not deserve. As her affianced husband, the man had a right to demand that, when they met or parted, the Grand Duchess should give him her lips. I think he was afraid to do so. Be that as it may, he did not. Had he asked and she objected, vile as he was, he could not, I think, have been blamed for insisting upon his right. But he did not ask. He preferred to commit a vulgar, common assault upon the peerless creature who was fighting to save his throne. And there I will leave the business, for even at this distance of time I cannot recall it with composure and, indeed, I think her tears and his laughter are commentary enough.

So I sat, still as an image, staring through the windscreen, with the sweat drying salt upon my face.

Johann and his works I had forgotten. I could only remember the shortcomings of Duke Paul. When I asked myself why the Grand Duchess was striving in his behalf, I felt as though I were dreaming some monstrous dream.

At last a maid came with a dressing-case, and a moment later the Grand Duchess entered the car.

The night was clear and cool, the ways were empty and the mountain air refreshed both body and soul. Once clear of Vigil, we went like the wind and in less than forty minutes we had come to the frontier bridge.

Bell showed a pass to the sentries, arms were presented and we rolled on to Austrian soil.

Five minutes later—

“Stop, please,” said the Grand Duchess. “I wish to sit in front.”

In silence the change was made, while I furtively hunched my shoulders and sunk my chin on my chest.

We had covered a mile in silence before the Grand Duchess spoke.

“Thank you for coming,” she said.