It was not until I was being driven to von Nauheim's house that I saw a blunder in my plan. I ought not to have left the palace at all, nor to have allowed von Nauheim to be for one moment out of my sight. I had seen him while I was in conversation with the baron; and he had, indeed, appeared to keep near me ostentatiously. This I attributed to his wish to make me dissociate him from the attempt on Minna; and I knew he was at the palace when I left. But he had now had half an hour's grace, and it was obvious that I might have trouble in finding him, and, further, that he might use the time to get to see Minna's double, supposing she had not been carried too far away. My suspense during the short drive was very keen. While all was going so well, I myself had endangered the whole scheme by this act of incredible shortsightedness. But at his house I was relieved. When I inquired for him, the servant told me he was at home.
"Has he been long back from the palace?" I asked indifferently.
"Not very long, your Highness; about half an hour," said the man.
I breathed freely once more. It was better luck than I had deserved.
"Show me to him at once," I said sharply.
The room was empty when I entered, and the man explained that his master was dressing, and that he would announce my visit. Suspicious of trickery in even small things, I kept the room door open lest von Nauheim should attempt to slip away while I was shut up inside it. But he made no attempt of the sort, and after keeping me waiting long enough to try my patience he came in smiling and wearing an air of insolent triumph.
"Ah, Prince, so you've come to pay me a visit, eh? I thought you were never going to enter my doors again. My man told me it was urgent business, too. You look a bit out of sorts. What's up?"
"I come with very serious news," I said.
"Egad, you look it, too," he broke in. "What's the matter?"
"That our whole scheme has fallen through. My cousin, I have every reason to fear, has been carried off by the Ostenburg agents."
"Carried off by the Ostenburgs! why, man, what nonsense is this?" he cried, with an air of incredulity. "Half an hour ago she was kissing that lunatic's hand."
"Nevertheless what I say is true. When she left the throne-room she and the Baroness Gratz entered the carriage to return home, and the carriage has never reached the house. I cannot account for it," I cried, as if amazed and baffled. "That is the only moment she has not been under the strictest guard and watch. But she has gone, and what can it mean but that they have got her?"
"You mean to say you were so foolish as to let her drive through Munich alone, or, rather, with no one but a silly old woman with her, on a day like this, and at such a crisis. Well, you took the responsibility of guarding her, and must put up with the consequences. But I can't believe it."
"The thing is just as I say," I answered, watching him closely.
He pretended to think, then he shook his head and replied:
"You must have jumped to a wrong conclusion altogether. The thing's monstrous. I expect she's just ordered the coachman to drive about the city a bit to show off her fine clothes, and is back by this time."
"You know her too well to think anything of the sort. She has a very clear knowledge of the dangers surrounding her."
"Then you shouldn't have taken her out of my control. And why do you come to me? The last time you were here you made quite a theatrical scene, after which you and I were to be strangers, I thought. Why, then, come to me now?"
"You have an even closer interest in this part of the plot than any one else. She is your promised wife; and it was my duty to acquaint you first with what had happened, and get your assistance in any search to be made."
"You're wonderfully mindful of your duty all of a sudden," he sneered, "Now that you've got us into this mess, you come whining to me to get you out of it."
"I've come out of no regard for you," I answered warmly.
"You've come quite as willingly as I welcome you. Believe that. And what do you want me to do?"
"You had better join with me in searching for her."
"Thank you—for less than nothing. I am to be put to the trouble of trying to find her in order that you may once more have the pleasure of keeping her away from me. I think you had better go and do your own spy-work."
We were each deceiving the other, though I had the clew to his attitude, and we were both wasting time in quarrelling which, had we been in earnest, we should have been only too eager to spend in the search. My motive was of course so to occupy his time that he would have no time to go to the girl; and his object was to keep me as long as possible from making inquiries to trace Minna. I let him appear to have his way, and we spent over an hour wrangling, disputing, and recriminating.
At last he exclaimed that it was no use for us to quarrel; we had better go and tell the news to Baron Heckscher and consult him. So long as we remained together, I did not care where we went nor whom we saw; and after he had occupied a very long time in changing his dress again—time wasted purposely, of course—we drove to the baron's house.
He was a far better actor than von Nauheim, and his consternation and anger were excellently assumed.
"It is ruin to everything. How could you allow it, Prince? We have placed the most precious charge in your hands, have left to you what it was your right, as the only male relative of the countess, to claim, the most delicate work of protecting the person of our future Queen; and now this has happened. I am astounded, dismayed, completely baffled. I had not the faintest idea that even a soul among the whole Ostenburg circle had a thought of what we were planning; and now, just when everything is all but ripe, this calamity has fallen like a thunderbolt."
And he continued to lament in this fashion at great length and with most voluble energy—an exceedingly artistic waste of much further time.
"Heaven knows what may happen next," he cried later on. "If these men get wind who has been in the plot, the whole city will be red with murder. For God's sake, Prince, be careful. You must be of course associated with the unfortunate countess as her relative and as the late Prince's successor, and I warn you most solemnly to be on your guard, most careful and vigilant."
It was a clever stroke, and I understood it well enough. I was to be attacked, but my suspicions of any complicity on his part were to be silenced by this warning.
"My life is of no account; I will not live, indeed, if, through my lack of care, anything happens to my cousin. Death would be my only solace!" I exclaimed passionately.
And this was made the text for a further and longer discussion, until at last Baron Heckscher cried out, as if in sudden dismay:
"But what are we doing? Wasting time in unavailing discussion, while that innocent girl may be enduring God only knows what."
I sprang to my feet also, as if equally distressed. We had occupied hours of valuable time where minutes would have sufficed had we really been in earnest; and the hour when we were due at the ball was fast approaching.
"But what of to-night's proceedings?" asked von Nauheim.
"We must go forward as if nothing of this had happened. I, for one, am all against giving up until we are really beaten. I will cause inquiry to be made at once in a hundred different quarters by our friends and agents, and maybe we shall yet find the countess in time for to-night's work. Is not that best?"
I pretended to demur.
"I fear it is useless. Cannot everything be put off until my cousin is found?"
"No, no, far safer to go on," answered the baron, a little too eagerly. "Even if we cannot present the countess as the future Queen to the people to-night, we are almost sure to be able to find her before to-morrow; and we must make the best excuse possible for her absence to-night."
I raised more objections, and thus wasted more time, only giving way in the end with apparent reluctance. Nearly another hour passed in a fresh heated discussion, and when we separated it was ten o'clock.
I calculated that von Nauheim might safely be left now. I had kept him without food for five hours, and I knew he would barely have time to rush home, put on his fancy-dress costume, snatch a hasty meal, and get to the ball at the appointed time for the meeting of the chief actors in the night's business.
I was soon to have evidence, however, that if I had been active in my preparations my antagonists had also been busy, and had laid deliberate plans for my overthrow at that very moment.
When I left the baron's house, I found, to my surprise, that my carriage had gone.
"You can't even keep in touch with your own servants, it seems, when you want them, to say nothing of guarding the Countess Minna," sneered von Nauheim.
"Apparently not," I answered; but my momentary chagrin was merged the next instant in the thought that this was probably no accident. I remembered that von Nauheim had left the room once for a few minutes, and I read the incident as a danger-signal.
"We'd better have a cab called," he added, and he sent a servant out for one.
When the man returned with one, my companion said:
"Come along, Prince, we've no time to lose."
For a moment I hung back, but, reflecting that I had better not even yet show my hand, I followed him.
The man drove off slowly at first, and as the vehicle lumbered heavily along I felt in my pocket to make sure my revolver was ready for use in need. Von Nauheim was obviously nervous. At first he whistled and drummed with his fingers on the window, and peered out into the streets. It was a dark night, and the driver had left the main road and was taking us through some narrow and ill-lighted streets, and was driving much more quickly.
"Where's the idiot taking us?" exclaimed von Nauheim, assuming a tone of anger. "Doesn't the dolt know his way?"
"He shouldn't have left the main street, should he?" I asked unconcernedly. "Tell him which way to drive. I don't know it."
He put his head out and called to the driver, and a short heated altercation took place, which ended in von Nauheim bidding him drive as fast as he could, since we were in a furious hurry.
The man now whipped up his horse, the cab travelling at a very quick pace indeed, rattling and jolting, swaying and bumping over the rough road with great violence. I began to think there was a plan to overturn it and take the chance of dealing me some injury in the consequent confusion when I might lie in the ruins of it. But there was more than that intended.
I did not know the district in the least, but I knew we had already been much longer in the vehicle than should have sufficed to carry us either to von Nauheim's house or mine, and I thought it time to put a stop to the little play.
"Stop him," I said to my companion. "I am going no farther in this crazy thing. He's either a fool or drunk, or worse."
"What are you afraid of?" he returned, with a laugh. "We're going all right. I know where we are." And I saw him look out anxiously into the dark.
"Well, I'm going no farther."
And I put my hand out of the window and loosened the handle of the door, while I called to the driver to stop. I would not turn my back to von Nauheim for fear of treachery.
"He can't hear you," he gibed. "Put your head out of the window and call him, unless; you're afraid of the dark," and he laughed again.
The situation was becoming graver every moment, and I cursed myself for having been such a foolhardy idiot as to have stepped into a snare set right before my eyes. The carriage was travelling at a high rate of speed, and I had no doubt that I was being carried away from Munich in order to prevent my being present at the ball.
To jump out was impossible without giving my companion an opportunity to deal me a blow or a stab from behind, which, even if it did not kill me, would certainly disable me at a juncture when everything depended upon my retaining the fullest use of every faculty and every ounce of strength I possessed. Yet I suspected that to sit still and do nothing was to allow myself to be carried into some carefully prepared ambush, where the consequences might be even worse.
"I believe you are afraid of the dark," said my companion after a pause; and I could see in the indistinct, vacillating light that his face wore a confident, sneering look of infinitely malicious triumph.
I felt it would be madness to let him carry the matter farther.
"There is some devilment here," I said sternly. "This is all preconcerted. Stop that mad fool out there, and let's have no more of it."
"What do you mean? How dare you?"
Then he stopped suddenly, and I saw him rise from his seat and look out through the front windows of the carriage.
"By God! what does it mean?" he exclaimed excitedly.
His face had lost all its jaunty, blustering expression and had turned gray with sudden fear.
"He's fallen off the box, or jumped off," he cried in a tone hoarse with panic.
It was true. The driver had disappeared, and the horse, freed from all control, was stretching himself out at a wild gallop.
"For God's sake, what had we better do, Prince?" cried the coward, turning to me in positively abject fear.
It was my turn now to smile. His precious play had broken up completely, and instead of having got me into a snare he had brought himself into a mess that was likely enough to cost him his life.
"It serves you right," I growled, with a rough oath. "You'll be lucky if you get out of this mess alive."
He was a coward through and through, and the revulsion of feeling from triumph at having tricked me into his power to the realization that he himself was in dire peril was more than his nerves could stand. He groaned, and covered his eyes as if to shut out the danger, and then fell back in his seat, limp and flaccid, like a girl in a terror-swoon.
There was nothing more to be feared from him, and I turned to consider to help myself. I opened the door of the swaying, swinging carriage, and tried to judge the chances of a leap out into the road.
I could see nothing except in the feeble, oscillating, fitful light of the lamps, while the door bumped and dashed against me so violently that I had to grip hard to prevent myself being thrown out altogether. It seemed impossible to hope for escape that way.
Yet I did not know the road; and, for aught I could tell, any minute might find us dashed to pieces. To sit still, therefore, and wait for the worst to happen was at least equally perilous.
I thought of trying to clamber on to the box-seat so as to get control of the horse; but with the vehicle swaying and bumping as it was the chances were ten thousand to one against. And if I fell in the effort, I should be under the wheels.
Then an idea occurred to me—to wound the horse with a revolver-shot. It was desperate; but all courses were that. The light from the lamps shone on the horse sufficiently to let me see where to shoot; and, gripping with my left hand on to the door frame, I leaned out as far as I dared and, taking careful aim, fired.
I missed the horse altogether, or grazed him very slightly, and frightened him; for I felt the vehicle give a violent jolt to one side and then forward, being nearly upset in the process. Then it dashed onward at a greater speed than before.
I leaned out once more and, getting this time a clearer aim, I fired again. There was a wild and desperate plunge, during which the carriage seemed to stop dead, then there was a terrific smash, and the next instant horse and carriage were lying in an indistinguishable heap in the middle of the road; and I found myself lying unhurt a few yards off.
I got up, and ran to look for von Nauheim. One of the lamps was still burning, and by the light of it I made a discovery that told me much. The horse was no ordinary cab hack, but a valuable beast worth a place in any man's stud. This was clear evidence to me that the whole thing had been planned.
My companion was lying under a heap of the wrecked carriage; and after much trouble I hauled him out, laid him by the roadside, and endeavored to find out whether he was much hurt, or had only fainted from fright.
I could not get him round, however; and as my presence in Munich was too essential to admit of my remaining with him, I was just starting to walk back, meaning to send him help as soon as I could find it, when I heard the voices of men approaching.
I was still suspicious of treachery, and instantly on my guard.
"Is that you, Fritz?" called a voice through the dark. "Why didn't you come on to the proper place?"
I jumped to the conclusion that these were the men who were waiting in ambush at the spot where the carriage ought to have taken me. But I did not know who Fritz was, unless he were the driver, who had fallen off.
"We have had an accident here," I called in reply, muffling my voice; "and the Prince von Gramberg has been badly hurt."
"Is that your Honor speaking?" asked the voice again.
"Come along quickly," I cried. "Fritz"—I blurred the word so that it might pass for any name—"has fallen off the box. You know what to do with the Prince. I must return at once."
"We know," was the answer. "Your Honor's horse is here"—and a man came up with a led horse.
"Do your work properly," I said as I clambered into the saddle, "and mind he's a bit delirious. Pay no heed to what he says till you get my instructions."
And with that I clapped my heels into the ribs of my borrowed horse and galloped off through the dark, laughing to myself at the thought that von Nauheim himself had fallen into the clutches of the very rascals in whose hands he had designed to leave me.
The count had good cattle, and the horse that carried me back to Munich answered gamely to the calls I made on him. At any cost I must get back to the house at the earliest possible moment; and though I did not know the road, and could see scarce a dozen feet ahead of the horse's ears, I plunged along at a hand-gallop, trusting to his instinct and my own luck, that had already stood me in such good stead that night.
I had not much difficulty in finding the way, and I reined up twice to ask it of people whom I met; and at last I chanced on a man on horseback, who rode with me to within a few doors of my destination.
I kept a wary eye about me as I rode into the courtyard of the house, and my first act was to call a groom on whose discretion I knew I could rely.
"Take this horse round at once to Count von Nauheim's stables," I told the man, "and say he has requested you to bring it. Don't mention my name. I wish you to find out whether the horse is one of his, but not to say a word to show that I have sent you. Report to me immediately on your return. I must have your news before I go out to-night."
The man mounted and was off instantly, and, as I had expected, he brought me back word that the horse was one of the count's stud.
In the mean while my arrival allayed the very reasonable alarm which my prolonged absence had caused. It was long past the time at which we were to have started for the ball, and all the others were dressed and waiting for me impatiently.
Von Krugen came to me with a telegram which had arrived some time before, and as I tore open the envelope with feverish haste I told him the pith of what had happened. The message was from Praga, and to my intense relief it was worded as we had agreed it should be if all went well.
"Caught mail. Arrive by first delivery."
Innocent words to read, but meaning much to me. The Duke Marx had been secured, and Praga himself was coming on to Munich at the earliest moment. I was glad enough of this. If these attacks were to continue, the stronger force we had the better.
"The countess is full of anxiety to see you, Prince," said von Krugen when I had told him the news.
"I will go to her directly, but I must dress at once. See that something for me to eat is got ready directly. Is there any news of the Baroness Gratz or of the girl?"
"None, there is not a suspicion of the trick."
My spirits were rising fast, for everything was going well. Despite all their devilment I was master of the position. I held their man in my clutches; and before the night was a couple of hours older they should see openly enough that I had outwitted them. But it was exciting work.
Before hurrying to put on my fancy-dress costume—I was going as a French courtier, a dress in which I could wear a sword and could conceal a revolver easily—I went to Minna's rooms to let her know I had returned.
She came to me looking so radiantly lovely that I gazed at her in rapture. We had chosen her dress with a care for the part she had to play that night, and she wore a double costume. In the first place she was to wear a plain dark domino covering her entirely from head to foot, the head, of course, to be hooded and the face entirely concealed by a large mask. But underneath this she wore a gorgeously brilliant dress as Maria Theresa; the rich magnificence of the costume being further set off by a profusion of jewels of all kinds, which sparkled and glittered with dazzling brilliance. On her head as crown she wore a splendid tiara of magnificent pearls.
This was all arranged of set purpose. My object was that in the first part of the evening she should run no risk of recognition at all; and that in the second when I led her forward as the actual Queen, she might produce the greatest possible impression of queenly wealth, grandeur, dignity, and loveliness.
If the impression on others were only half as striking as it was upon me, I should be more than satisfied; and if a beautiful and queenly presence could win adherents there was not a man in the ball-room who would not be on her side.
She enjoyed the effect of her loveliness upon me, and stood smiling with bright eyes as I gazed at her.
"Shall I do, cousin?" she asked, with a dash of coquetry.
"The most lovely vision I have ever seen," I cried.
"Not vision, cousin Hans," she said, shaking her head and shrugging her shoulders till the million facets of her jewels gleamed with iridescent lustre. "Only flesh and blood—and rather frightened flesh too. I was beginning to fear for you. What has happened?"
"All is going splendidly," I said; but I could not keep my eyes from her. "You are a Queen indeed," I added. "If all Queens were like you, royalty would have no enemies. You will make a profound impression to-night."
"I am satisfied if you are pleased," she answered. "But I am afraid of to-night's work, Hans," she added, with a slight, movement of alarm, like a passing chill of fear. "I shall be glad when it is over, and we are all safe back here."
"If all goes well, you will sleep in the palace to-night as Queen-elect of Bavaria—the Queen of us all."
"No, no; I don't wish that. I wish to be here among my friends. I feel safe here; I should be frightened there."
"Your friends will be with you there also. You do not think we should desert you; by to-morrow your friends will have multiplied to half a nation."
"But my enemies—what of them? That is my fear."
"I hold the hostage that will silence them, and——But trust me and all will be well, better, I hope, than you can think. We have played a hazardous game, I know; but I have just heard that the move which must decide it in our favor has been made successfully."
"I wish I could feel your enthusiasm," she said, rather sadly.
"I have you to enthuse me," I cried. "And for your sake——"
I stopped, I was losing my head in the craze of her beauty.
"You would what?" she asked, putting her hand on mine, and setting me on fire with a look which I thought and hoped I could read.
I thrust away the almost maddening temptation to say what was in my heart and thoughts.
"I would remember that there is yet much to do," I said stolidly, dropping my eyes.
She snatched her hand away, and turned away from me with a toss of the head.
"I wish I had never gone on with this!" she exclaimed impetuously. "It was not my wish. I should not if you had not persuaded me——No, I don't mean that at all. Forgive me, cousin, I am so thoughtless!" she cried, changing again quickly. "I know all you have done for me, and I am not ungrateful. Forgive me." She came again and put her hands back into mine. "I am such a poor Queen even for a sham one."
This was even more trying than before, and I had to fight hard to hold myself in hand. But I succeeded.
"Don't speak of forgiveness; there is nothing to forgive. What lies before us to-night is enough to make any one anxious. I can understand you."
"Can you?" she answered, peering with shining, eloquent eyes into mine. "No, no, no, a hundred times no. But I am glad you like my dress and—I will try to bear myself to-night so as to be worthy of—of all you have dared for me."
"God grant we may all come safely through it, and that to-night may see you Queen indeed," I replied fervently; and I was putting my lips to her hand as a sign of my homage, though I meant more, when she drew her hand hastily away.
"I am not Queen yet," she exclaimed; and I was wondering at the meaning of this little action all the time I was donning my courtier's garb. Her changefulness puzzled me. Sometimes I hoped—well, I scarce know what I was not fool enough to think; and at others I feared. But my hopes were stronger than my fears on that account, and had there not been such important work on hand that night I think I could not have resisted putting the ball to far other use than its promoters had projected.
I could not drive with her to the palace, as it was necessary that I should arrive alone, and I had procured an invitation for her in another name. Von Krugen was to be in constant attendance upon her, with urgent instructions never to let her out of his sight; and Steinitz, who was also garbed as a courtier and carried a sword, was to be an additional guard, remaining at a distance and keeping in touch with me, so that I might know where to find Minna at the instant I needed. In order that there might be no difficulty in my recognizing her, supposing there were another domino of the same color and shape, we had had a small cross of red silk sewn on each shoulder.
I was very busy with my thoughts and full of anxiety as I drove away. So far as I could see now, my plans were complete. I had the Duke Marx in my hands; I had outwitted my opponents and could produce Minna at the very moment when they, reckoning on her absence, would have pledged themselves over the hilt in her cause; no one had breathed a hint to show that my assumption of the part of the Prince was more certainly known than a few days previously; and I had a fairly accurate knowledge of my opponents' tactics and aims, while they were ignorant of mine.
It was probable enough that my appearance at the ball safe and sound after von Nauheim's attempt on me would cause some consternation, and no doubt I must be well on my guard for the rest of the evening.
I was very late in entering, but that would only give color to the supposition that I had been trapped by von Nauheim; and I thought I might perhaps turn it to account by surprising something out of the men who did not expect me.
With this object I fastened my mask very firmly—it was a large one, and hid my features successfully; and, taking a hint from my old stage experiences, I humped up one of my shoulders, limped on one leg, and in this way hobbled, with the gait of an old man, into the ball-room.
It was a brilliant scene indeed. The magnificent suite of rooms was decorated in the most lavish manner, each in a different style and period; and the garish blaze of light in places contrasting with the soft, seductive tints of others, the artistic combination of decorative coloring, the changing play of the electric fairy lamps of every conceivable hue, the grouping of hundreds of palms and ferns with contrasting masses of gorgeously colored flowers, a thousand guests in all the exuberant splendor of the most exquisite costumes, and the sparkling glitter of myriads of jewels, made up a scene of positively gorgeous fascination.
To me it was a great stage, on which all the people present were but supers, walking, dancing chatting, laughing, and love-making, to fill up time until the really important characters should have their entrances called.
Near to the door, as I entered, a clown was fooling clumsily and awkwardly, and passing silly jests in a disguised voice with all who passed him.
I knew him directly. It was the mad King, and on the sleeve of his clown's tunic I saw the mark that told us who he was. Round him in busy hum I heard loud whispers about the greatness and cleverness of the King, and every now and then he would stop his silly jesting to listen to these comments.
"'Tis easy to see thou art a soldier, old hobbler," he called to me, and ran and planted himself in my path, and peered up in my face.
"Why's that, clown?" I asked in an old man's voice.
"Because thou canst not help shouldering arms," he cried, humping up his own shoulder in ridicule of mine; and at the silly jest the crowd round burst into roars of loud Court laughter, with cries of "How excellent!" "What wit!" "Who is this great jester?" and a hundred other notes of praise of his wonderful clowning.
I passed on, not ill pleased to have been mistaken for an old man, and I made my way slowly round the grand rooms, looking for the men I had to meet, and wondering why the King was still at large. I kept turning to look back at the place where I had met him, and when at length I saw that he had gone I judged that this meant he had left to change his costume, and that the occasion of that change would be seized for the purposes of the plot. And just as I noticed that a voice which I recognized as the Baron Heckscher's fell on my ear.
"It is long past the hour. Something may have happened."
"I have suspected him from the first. It spells treachery," said another.
It was Herr Kummell.
I had reached the far end of the suite of rooms, and at the back of me was a deep alcove or small ante-room, at the mouth of which the two men were standing, some others being farther inside. I guessed they were speaking of me, and I stood concealed by one of the pillars which supported the domed roof, and kept my back to them, listening with all my ears.
"I do not wish to think that," answered the baron in a tone of assumed reluctance. "But what you have told me is very extraordinary."
"He has purposely put her out of our reach. You will never find her. I am for letting matters pass. If he were here I would tell him to his face what I think."
It was certainly nothing less than a disaster that the two men who, of all those in the scheme, were really loyal to Minna, and should have been of the utmost value in co-operating with me, were, through the unfortunate turn of things, suspicious of me and hostile. I could, of course, do nothing now to undeceive them; but it was an additional aggravation that Minna's supposed disappearance should have been made to appear as the result of my treachery.
"We cannot go back now," I heard the baron say. "Indeed the curtain has drawn up already. The King has gone for his change of dress."
They turned then into the alcove to join the rest, and I moved away. Soon afterward I dropped the shuffling gait of an old man and walked to the alcove with quick, firm footsteps.
"Good evening, gentlemen," I said. "I am late, but that is no fault of my own."
My arrival produced an evident surprise, and even the astute Baron Heckscher showed some signs of it.
"You are indeed very late, Prince," he said. "We had begun to fear that you were going to fail us at the last moment."
"Have you found the Countess Minna?" asked Kummell. "Or perhaps you have been detained searching for her?"
His tone rang with contempt, and he made no attempt to hide his suspicions of me.
"That is a question we should put to Baron Heckscher here," I answered in a tone which made the latter start and look at me. "I mean, of course, that he almost pledged his word to find her in time for to-night's work. Have you any news, baron?"
"I have every hope that all will yet be right," he said.
"Those who hide can find," said Kummell.
"They can, and I wish they'd be quick about it," I assented curtly. "But we have no time now for discussion. We have to act. And I shall be glad to be informed how matters stand. Are all the arrangements complete?"
Kummell and his friend Beilager, the baron, and I had been standing apart from the rest, who were grouped together, engaged in a low but animated conversation, of which I did not doubt I was the subject. Baron Heckscher moved across to the larger group as I put the question, and I took advantage of the moment to say to Kummell in a low, earnest tone:
"You have done me the ill turn to suspect me, and before the night is out you will have cause to admit your error. I shall rely upon you implicitly to stand by your loyalty in what is to come to-night. Afterward we can have an explanation if necessary," and without giving him time to reply I went after the baron.
A short and hurried statement of the present position of things followed, the pith of which was that all was in readiness, and we might expect the news at any moment that the final coup was to be made.
A few minutes later a messenger hurried into the alcove and spoke to the baron, who then turned to us, and in a low tone said:
"Gentlemen, the King is ours. God bless the new ruler of Bavaria."
A murmured echo of the words from all present was drowned by a loud fanfare of trumpets and thumping of drums from the other end of the domed hall, and these heralded, as we knew, the coming of the King's substitute. We moved out at once to take our places for the big drama, and I looked round anxiously for the dark domino of Minna. As I caught sight of her in the distance I found that my heart was beating with quite unusual violence and speed.
The entrance of the mad King's understudy had been arranged with scrupulous eye to effect. The King himself had ordered all details, and they were carried out exactly as he had planned, on a scale of ostentatious and almost insane extravagance in which he was wont to indulge.
The supposed King was made up to represent a Chinese Emperor, the full robes offering effectual concealment of any difference between the figures of the King and his substitute. His head was bald save for the ornamental head-dress and the long, coal-black pigtail. His features were entirely concealed behind the skin mask of a painted Chinese face drawn very tight, lifelike, yet infinitely grotesque; and his robes were gorgeous and most costly, embroidered with thousands of jewels in the quaintest and weirdest of Chinese designs.
He was seated in a royal palanquin, bore by eight bearers in most hideous garbs, each wearing a skin mask of the same kind as the central figure; and as they put down their burden in the middle of the hall they turned in all directions, and set their faces grinning and mouthing and grimacing with a most weird effect. The palanquin itself was decorated and bejewelled with the same lavish prodigality with which the lunatic King was accustomed to squander his people's money in trifles and fooling.
So gorgeous and costly was every appointment of it, indeed, that even while the spectators marvelled at its brilliance they cursed the wastefulness that made it practicable.
But it was quite impossible to mistake the whole thing for anything but a royal freak; and those present did not need the private mark that was, as usual, on the arm to reveal to them that the bowing, grinning, sumptuously apparelled figure that sat amid the cushions of the palanquin, squeaking out gibberish in a high-pitched voice as though indulging in Chinese greetings, was their King.
The whole scene was too characteristic of him.
Behind the palanquin, grouped with clever regard to color effects, were the members of a numerous suite, all attired in rich Chinese costumes, while musicians, playing upon all kinds of extraordinary instruments, clanged and clashed, trumpeted and drummed, squeaked and groaned, in a medley of indescribable discords and unrhythmic jangle. Yet in all the babel and confusion there was the method of shrewd organization and carefully thought out plan.
When the first effect of the dramatic entrance was over, the bearers took up the palanquin, a procession was formed, and the courtiers and musicians, reinforced by a number of dancing-girls and men, made a progress round the ball-rooms, and at last grouped themselves about and around a raised dais, on one side of which stood an improvised throne.
A programme of dancing was then gone through, followed by a number of ceremonial acts, all intended as a preface to the chief performance for which we were waiting so anxiously—the play of the formal abdication.
During the whole of this fantastic business my excitement had been growing fast. I knew that with comparatively few exceptions all the people present were dead against me and in favor of the Ostenburg interest. For months—for years, indeed—they had been working, striving, and plotting for the end which they now thought to be within their reach. Among them, as I had had abundant evidence, were men desperate enough to stop short of no excesses to gain that end, and yet I was seeking to checkmate them in the very hour of success by a single bold stroke.
All the men who had taken a leading part in the plot had dispersed among the audience, each having a definite part assigned to him. I myself stood apart leaning against a pillar, with Steinitz not far from me, and when the procession had just passed me a deep voice close to my ear said:
"A striking ceremonial, Prince."
I looked round, and thought I recognized the lithe, sinewy face of the Corsican Praga, whose dark, glittering eyes were staring at me through his mask.
"Very striking. Who are you?" I asked cautiously.
"I carry the tools of my trade," he replied, touching lightly his sword. "And I am badly in want of work."
"Why are you here?"
"I am a sort of postman—I bring news of the mail."
I understood the play of the words, and knew him by it for certain.
"And what is the news?"
"Of the best, except for one thing."
His tone alarmed me somewhat. We drew away then from the crowd, and, standing apart together, he told me what had happened.
"That Clara is a devil, Prince, and we must beware of her. She hates you, and has been torn in two ways by this business."
"What do you mean, man? Speak out. Where is the Duke Marx?"
"Safe, and where no one will find him. Drunk as a Christian duke should be, and the wine that was made from the water couldn't make him drunker. She lured him out to Spenitz; and, when she had got him separated from his servants, drove with him to the house at Friessen alone." This was the place we had secured for the purpose in a lonely spot some fifty miles from the city. "He would have gone to the world's end in the mood she worked him into, and I chuckled louder every fresh mile we covered."
"You! What were you doing there?" I asked in astonishment.
"I was the driver, of course. We wanted no servants—there was no place for them—and, once we started from Spenitz, I vowed that he should go on if I had to brain him to get him there. Bacchus, but he's a fool!"
"Get on with the story, man," said I impatiently. "I want to know what you fear is wrong."
"He went out like a lamb, protesting only now and then that he must be back soon, and must be in Munich to-night; but she stopped his protests with a kiss, and the fool was as happy as a drunken clown. We reached Friessen, and then the play began. While they were billing and fooling in the house I slipped a saddle on the horse's back in place of his harness, went out on to the road, and, after I had given him less than half an hour with Clara, I came galloping up to the house at full stretch, for all the world as if I had followed them every yard of the way from Spenitz, and I rushed into the room with my sword drawn, spluttering out oaths, and vowing I'd have his life on the spot."
"Well?"
"There's a good assortment of cowardice in that little body of his. He has too many good things in this life to wish to leave it, I suppose, for he could scarcely make enough show of fight to make it plausible for Clara to rush in between us, throw herself on her knees, and, with a clever bit of acting, pray that there should be no bloodshed. I blustered and raged, and at length consented to spare his wee chip of a life; but I forced him to swallow an opiate that made him as drunk as a fool, and will keep him quiet for a dozen hours or more. Then I bound and gagged him to make doubly sure, and locked him up in an underground cellar. We can keep him there a close prisoner for a month if need be and not a soul will be the wiser, unless——"
"Unless what?" I cried.
"Unless the beloved Clara should choose to say what she knows."
"Do you suspect her?"
"I don't know what she means, or what she wants. She is torn between her desire to help me and to hurt you; and which will win in the end I can't say. She has done this for me, but, having done it, she is singular enough to turn round and try to hit at you in some other direction. I can't answer for her; and I thought it best to tell you so."
"If you think she means to tell of his whereabouts, we'll send out to-night at once and change it."
"I can't think that, because it would be treachery to me. In fact, I'm sure she won't. She knows me pretty well by this time, and I swore to her that if she did anything of the kind I'd wreak a bitter vengeance on her and the duke. I'll do it too," he growled, with a deep guttural oath.
"But what do you fear, then?"
"She is back to-night in Munich for some object; and as she is deep in with the Ostenburg lot, trusted by them, too—it is through her that most things have leaked to me—we may look for her to fend off suspicion from herself for this decoy work by striking at you in some other way. So you know what to expect."
"But if she is helping you, why should she turn against me?" I said, perplexed.
"For the best of all reasons, Prince—she is a woman."
The fact that I could not solve the enigma did not decrease my disquiet at the news, and had there been time I would have taken some measures of precaution. But it was too late now. We must go on, whether to succeed or to fail; for a glance at the dais showed me that the moment for the act of abdication had arrived, and we both turned to watch the proceedings.
This ceremonial was also very carefully planned to give it the appearance of formal reality. A loud flourish of trumpets was sounded, and the Court herald stepped forward and announced that his Majesty the King had a weighty communication to make at once. Every one of the Privy Councillors present went forward and stood in a group about the throne, and among them were the Baron Heckscher, and five or six of the men who had been associated as leaders in the scheme. To them the pseudo King made many bows, and, choosing the Baron Heckscher as his mouthpiece, delivered by him a message to the rest. Then the trumpets blared again, and the supposed King, standing up, laid aside the outer Chinese robe he wore, and stood revealed in the ordinary Court dress of the King himself; but he remained masked, of course. He next handed a paper to the baron, who handed it to one of the heralds, and the latter, who had been properly coached as to its contents, read it out in a loud, ringing voice to all the people assembled.
This was the royal proclamation that his Majesty had resolved to abdicate, and that he had nominated the Countess Minna von Gramberg, the nearest heir, as his successor, and called upon the people to support her. At this juncture I made my way to where Minna was standing in her hooded domino by von Krugen, and took my place beside her. She was trembling violently, and I whispered a word or two of encouragement.
"You had better get ready to unmask, and throw aside the domino," I said, and her reply was drowned in the ringing cheers of the crowd.
There was no mistaking the heartiness which greeted the news of the abdication; but the question for us was whether there would be the same cheering when it was found that Minna herself was present to accept the honor thus offered her.
At first those people who were not in the secret had been altogether unable to grasp the meaning of the proceedings; but those in the plot soon led the way, and as they scattered thickly all about the room, they spread the news quickly and by assuming to take the whole thing as genuine induced the rest to indorse an event they desired only too keenly.
Then followed the Act of Abdication.
The crown was brought by a page to the King, and he took it and placed it on his head.
This was followed by a moment of silence.
The trumpets blared out again; and the herald announced that his Majesty would lay aside the crown in accordance with the proclamation and as a sign that he renounced it forever in favor of his successor.
The action was watched in deep, dead silence; but no sooner had it been completed than the chorusing crowd, who had been carefully coached, broke out into loud and vociferous cries and shouts of "Long live Queen Minna!"
"Now, Minna," I whispered anxiously; for she seemed too anxious to make the slightest attempt to prepare. "In another moment I must lead you forward."
As the cries died away the man on the throne, now uncrowned, moved aside, and, with a bow to those round him, walked quickly away out of the hall.
There was another blare of trumpets and a fresh call for the Queen.
"Come, Minna; you must come," I said firmly; and I myself unmasked, drawing the attention of many in the room upon me by this act.
But the girl at my side made no movement. She had ceased to tremble, however, as I found when she put her hand on my arm.
"Everything will be ruined, Minna, if you do not come," I said, and in my excitement I touched her domino, as if to draw it away.
A low soft laugh was the answer I got.
I looked up in the deepest astonishment. I began to fear I knew not what. A glance at the secret mark on the domino told me there was no mistake. The little red cross on the shoulder next me was distinctly visible. But an instant later I knew what it all meant.
The mask was slipped off, but instead of Minna the face of Clara Weylin met mine with a look of exasperating mockery in the insolent, triumphant eyes.