Read Ebook: The Prelude to Adventure by Walpole Hugh

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Ebook has 1229 lines and 59638 words, and 25 pages

"In my mind there is no doubt," he said slowly, giving weight to his words, "that the Prince's disappearance is directly due to the failure of his love affair."

The Minister's face assumed a look of bland inquiry.

"Indeed? That is a strong assertion, Count. You have proof?"

Zarka smiled, and his smile strengthened the other's dislike.

"Proof absolute, to my mind. Documentary evidence." He took out a gold-bound letter-case emblazoned with an heraldic device. "A tangible clue which I have felt it my duty to hand to your Excellency," he said, as with deliberation he opened the case, took out a paper and carefully unfolded it. "You know Prince Roel's handwriting?"

"Personally, no. But that is easily proved."

"I knew it well," Zarka returned. "And there without the suspicion of a doubt is a specimen of it."

He rose as he spoke and handed the paper to Gersdorff. It contained only a few words, and the Minister read them, half aloud.

"'I send you herewith two bunches of roses, white and red. The white signify love and life: the red hate and death. Those which you will wear to-night must decide my fate. R.'"

Gersdorff turned the paper, and finding the other side blank, turned it back slowly and read the words over again. Then he laid the paper down on the desk before him, and looked up inquiringly at Zarka.

"The paper tells its own story, does it not?" the Count said in reply to the look.

"To a certain point, yes. May I ask how you came by it?"

"From the Prince's servant who found it in the pocket of his master's smoking-jacket," Zarka answered readily.

"And he brought it to you?"

"To me as a friend of his master's. It is evidently a blotted draft which the Prince intended to destroy. You notice, Excellency, the ink is spilt on it?"

Gersdorff nodded. "I do not know that this proves very much," he observed doubtfully.

Perhaps had Count Zarka been able to read the significance of the look which the old diplomatist's keen eyes fixed on him he might not have been quite so glib. But clever man as a glance would recognize the Count to be, he was here, perhaps, a little too anxious to appear quite fluent and at his ease.

"Quite so, Count," Gersdorff said, almost coldly. "You can give me the lady's name or not, as you please. If not, no doubt we can find it out for ourselves. It is merely a question of saving the Bureau trouble."

Zarka affected to hesitate, then to make up his mind.

"It is my desire," he said, with a bow, "to be of every service to your Excellency. So I must break what was my first resolve, namely that no lady's name should pass my lips in connexion with the affair. You are welcome to know my suspicion so far as it goes. I can at least tell you the name of the lady who wore red roses at the Margravine von Reuspach's ball the night before Prince Roel disappeared. Your Excellency may possibly be acquainted with General Hainfeld?"

He paused, with lips drawn back and his glittering eyes fixed on Gersdorff, awaiting his answer.

"I have met the General. Has he a daughter?" the Minister answered doubtfully.

"A step-daughter, Fr?ulein Philippa Carlstein." He spoke the name with a curious staccato intonation.

"Oh," Gersdorff made a mental note of it. Then he waited, his intuition telling that the Count had something to add.

"The General and Fr?ulein Carlstein," Zarka proceeded when he found the other did not seem inclined to question him further, "have left the city, I hear, for Switzerland and Paris. That is all the information I have to give, Excellency. You must take it for what it is worth; but I must say it seems to me significant."

Gersdorff rose.

But his visitor did not depart without a flourish. "I trust, Excellency, you will consider that what you have done me the honour to allow me to communicate has been a sufficient excuse for taking up so much of your valuable time."

"Certainly," Gersdorff answered a little stiffly; "I am obliged to you for your information; your theory of this unfortunate young fellow's disappearance may be worth following up. You will leave the paper with me? Good-day."

The Count could only grin again, bow, and take his leave.

Gersdorff returned to Galabin, who rose and looked inquiringly at his face, which, however, from habitual diplomatic schooling, told nothing.

"A lucky visit for us," Gersdorff said, resuming his seat by the window. "I fancy it has at least narrowed the field of your proposed search, my young friend. For unless I am greatly mistaken the man who is there," he nodded down towards the street, "mounting his horse with such swagger knows as much as anybody of Prince Roel's disappearance."

"He came to tell you so?"

The old diplomat smiled. "He came to throw dust in my eyes. How foolish men are!" he exclaimed reflectively. "When will they learn to hold their tongues? A false scent is very well if only you are dealing with people stupid enough to follow it. Otherwise it is simply a negative clue, since we know the object we are hunting has not gone that way. Now, Herr Galabin," he continued, resuming his more business-like manner, "in the interests of our State I want you to spend a holiday in the great forest at the foot of the Carpathians."

He touched a bell. "Ask Herr Botheim to come to me," he said to the man who answered it.

In a few moments Herr Botheim made his appearance, a small, astute-looking man, with an intensely secretive manner. He was the head of the intelligence department.

"Botheim, how long has Count Zarka been in the city?"

"Since 7.40 this morning only, Excellency. He left the city eight days ago presumably for Rozsnyo."

"Ah, Rozsnyo. Yes? Was his departure seen?"

"No, no, my good Botheim," Gersdorff interrupted; "there is no blame attached to your department, but I fancy we have hardly studied the Count closely enough."

Botheim could only give a shrug.

"I do not blame you," the Minister proceeded; "we have hitherto looked upon him, politically, as a mysterious nonentity. But now we may have reason to change our views. You have, of course, information about the Count's home, the Schloss Rozsnyo? Its situation, I mean, and so forth?"

"Certainly, Excellency. I can obtain all the information in two minutes."

"Do so," Gersdorff returned, "and furnish Herr Galabin with it. I will send him to your room at once." Botheim bowed and withdrew. "You will undertake this mission?"

"I am only too much honoured, Excellency, by your confidence."

"I am sure it is well placed. You have two objects, remember. First, to discover, if possible, what has become of Prince Roel; and secondly, to find out what you can about this Count Zarka. Now, good-bye. Be wary. I do not trust the Count. Botheim will give you all available information; we shall look to you to add to it materially."

A CHANCE SHOT

The nearly horizontal rays of a setting September sun, red with the promise of a brilliant resurrection on the morrow, struck full against the great elevated timber-line, where, at any rate for a space, European civilization seems to be held in check by the appalling ruggedness and grandeur--the insurmountable wildness of self-assertive nature. The parting glory falling directly on the fringe of the great coniferous belt, threw into more striking relief the blue-black intensity of the forest depths. The day had been hot--sultry for the time of year, for September days are, as it were, the Parthian cohort of Summer's retreating array: the air was still and silent with the languor which comes of hours of steady, windless heat. Only occasionally there rose from the impenetrable blackness of the woods the lazy cry of a pigeon or the whirr of a tree-partridge, so infrequent as to be almost startling in contrast with the prevailing stillness.

The nibbling hares, dotted at picturesque intervals over one at the tufted and sparsely wooded lawns which here and there broke the continuity of the interminable woods, munched and leaped peacefully and comfortably enough. Presently by common consent, not simultaneously, but by twos and threes, and batches, they stopped their feeding, raised their heads, and pricked their ears until the whole company was at attention. A few tree-partridges, preening their grey feathers, paused and looked round inquiringly towards the black wood into which they could see but a few yards, yet perhaps further than any other living thing. The pause--of alert expectancy--lasted but a few seconds. A fox came with slinking trot out of the wood, and made across the best covered corner of the lawn towards the thickets opposite, increasing his pace as he crossed the open, his eyes redder than normal, for the sun struck full into them. Most of the hares reassured, resumed their eclectic nibbling; a few, impressed by Reynard's gait and manner, leisurely put a less distance between themselves and the covert, plucking an occasional tempting blade on the way.

There is a subtle magnetic influence acting from animal life upon animal life. Unknown as its cause is to us--for all our researches can never take us beyond the border-line of half-knowledge, at least this side of the grave--and imperfect as our conjectures are, we see clearly enough its influence the more unmistakable in direct ratio to the sharpness of the senses of the creature upon which it acts. We feel it ourselves in the same proportion, keeping time with our individual sensitiveness; but with most of us, at any rate, distance attenuates the subtle power. So, not without the grosser signs of the sudden lifting, this time with one accord, of scores of furry heads and ears, the warning cry of pigeons behind the dark foliage, and the sudden swift rush of the lately indolent tree-partridge, would a human being have felt constrained to look expectingly towards the fringe of the wood, the natural line of which was now broken by the figure of a man.

He had stopped on emerging from the covert, and now stood, set off picturesquely against his dark background, perhaps admiring the romantic scene suddenly opened before him, perhaps uncertain as to his whereabouts. So motionless was his attitude, so striking his appearance, that he hardly seemed to lend a human interest to the fairy spot; an onlooker from the opposite side of the valley would have expected him to vanish as mysteriously as he had come. Presently, however, he moved forward and began to descend the slope. The hares, which had begun to wonder whether there was any harm in him, scampered away on all sides. The man at once halted and made a quick movement of pointing the gun he carried under his arm, but it seemed to be merely the sportsman's instinct, for he checked the action ere he had aimed, and replacing the weapon in its former position, resumed his way across the now deserted valley.

A handsome man, of fair complexion and athletic frame, dressed in a dark-green shooting suit, whose easy swinging gait had nevertheless a suggestion of military precision and alertness. His figure, standing out against the dark background, was picturesque enough; even the modern fashion of his clothes scarcely detracted from the suggestion of romance in his appearance; his coat was thrown open, and there seemed a characteristic touch of a bygone age in the dress which harmonized so perfectly with his old-world surroundings.

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