As Lady Jenny had expected, Mr. van Zwieten proved himself to be a wise man by presenting himself in her drawing-room at the appointed hour. He was in evening dress, calm and composed as usual, and greeted her with a low bow. She could not help admiring his self-possession. His reputation, his liberty even, was at stake, and yet he never turned a hair. And with these feelings uppermost, she received him more kindly, perhaps, than she would otherwise have done. The Dutchman, taking his cue from her, that the conversation, despite its probable sensational character, was not to be conducted on melodramatic lines, reciprocated her politeness. Any one seeing the pair might have imagined that they were discussing nothing of more importance than "Shakespeare and the musical glasses," rather than a subject which, to one of them, at least, meant life or death.
The hostess, in a black silk dinner dress, with a few well-chosen jewels, looked unusually pretty in the light of the lamps, and Van Zwieten was an admirer of pretty women, and knew well how to make himself agreeable to them. Had the subject-matter of their conversation been only less serious, he would have enjoyed himself. As it was, he did not find the hour he spent with her irksome. For a few moments the two antagonists discussed general topics, and then Lady Jenny came suddenly to the point. The man watched her warily. Pretty she might be, but that was no reason why he should allow her to get the better of him. It was a duel of words, and the combatants were well matched.
"Well, Mr. van Zwieten," began the widow, "I suppose you were somewhat astonished at my invitation."
"I cannot deny that I was, my dear lady. It is, perhaps, a trifle disconcerting to find one's rooms robbed, and then to receive an invitation from the robber!"
"Oh, come, that is rather harsh, is it not? It was what I should call simple justice."
"Indeed!" replied the other, dryly. "It would interest me to learn how you make that out."
"Oh, easily. I can give you two reasons. In the first place, you threatened--did you not?--to accuse a man of a crime which you knew he had not committed. In the second, you are a spy, to put it plainly, and both Wilfred Burton and I felt it was our duty to secure proofs of your guilt. We are notallfools in this country!"
"That is a charge one would hardly bring against you," returned Van Zwieten, with emphasis, "nor against that young man. Had I suspected him of so much cleverness, I should have taken more elaborate precautions."
"Ah! you should never undervalue your enemies! Well, I suppose you know that you are in my power?"
"And in Wilfred Burton's also!"
"No. I can manage him. He has left the decision of this matter in my hands. I am sure you ought to be pleased at that!"
"I am. Because I see you mean to let me off."
"That depends!" she said, and shot a keen glance at him. "I asked you to come here because it was necessary that I should see you, sir--but I despise you none the less for that. You are a spy!--the meanest of all created creatures."
Van Zwieten held up his hand. He was quite unmoved. "My dear lady, let us come to business. Believe me, preaching of that kind has very little effect on me. I might defend myself by saying that I have every right to use craft on behalf of the Transvaal fox against the mighty English lion, but I will content myself with holding my tongue. I would remind you that I have very little time to spare. I intend to leave this country to-morrow morning."
"How do you know that I shall allow you to go?"
"You would hardly have invited me to this interview else," Van Zwieten said cunningly. "You have something you want from me. Well, I will give it in exchange for my safety--and that includes, of course, your silence."
"It is clever of you to put it that way," responded the widow, coolly. "It so happens that you are right. I intend to make a bargain with you."
"Always provided that I agree."
"Of course," said she, airily; "but in this case I really think youwillagree."
"I am not so sure of that." Van Zwieten narrowed his eyes and blinked wickedly. "You forget that I also know something."
"For that reason I asked you here. Let me advise you not to pit yourself against me, my good man, or you may get the worst of it. A word from me and you would be kicking your heels in jail this very night."
"Probably." Van Zwieten had too much to gain to notice her threat. "But you will never say that word."
"You can't be quite sure of that yet. Well, let us get to business. I am not anxious to spend any more time in your company than is necessary."
"I assure you the feeling is mutual. May I ask how you found my rooms in Westminster?"
"I think you know that very well after the visitor you received last night. I was told about them and you by Mr. Wilfred Burton. He knew long ago that you were a spy, and he has been watching you for many months."
"He is not so very clever then. All these months--and yet he has got no further than this!"
"How much further do you want him to go? He has the box with all your papers--your treasonable papers--your orders from Dr. Leyds. Really, Mr. van Zwieten, you should have taken a little more care of that box! The top of a press was hardly a safe place to hide it. But perhaps you had been reading Poe's story of the 'Purloined Letter.'"
"Never mind what I read," he said, evidently annoyed at her flippancy. "Let us confine ourselves to business. The idea of the disguised policeman was yours, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir, it was. I felt sure that the landlady would not let us enter your room to make the search unless she was thoroughly frightened, so I suggested that he should get himself up as a member of the force. Our little stratagem succeeded to perfection. Mrs. Hicks--that is her name, I believe--was terrified and let us in at once. Then we found your box, and I sent Wilfred away with it while I stayed and wrote my note to you. Oh, what a time we had over your papers! You really are very clever, Mr. van Zwieten. What a lot the Foreign Secretary would give to see what we saw and, as it happens, he is a personal friend of mine. I might sell it, you know," she went on coolly. "I am poor enough now, and they would give me a good price."
"Not such a price as would recompense you for what I could say about your husband," retorted the Dutchman.
She laughed gaily. "Oh, that? My good man, I know all about that! Do you think I should have taken the trouble to talk to you if I had not known that my husband had been doing all your dirty work?"
"Yes, he did my work," Van Zwieten said viciously. "He was my creature--paid by me with Transvaal gold. You callmea spy, Lady Jane Malet. Your own husband was one--and not only a spy, but a traitor!"
"I know it," she said, and her face was very pale, "and for that reason I am glad he is dead, terrible though his end was."
"I dare say you helped him out of the world!" sneered Van Zwieten.
"That is false, and you know it. I had no idea of what my husband was until I found his papers after his death. Had I known that when he was yet alive, Imighthave killed him!" She clenched her hand. "Yes, I might have shot him, the mean, cowardly hound! He spoke against the Boers, and yet he took their money!"
"Oh, you must not blame him for that. That was my idea."
"It is worthy of you. Oh!"--she started up and paced the room in a fury--"to think that I should have been married to such a creature! To think that I should have lived on gold paid for the betrayal of my country! The cur! The Judas! Thank God he is dead." And then, turning abruptly on the Dutchman, "How did you gain him over to your side?" she asked. "Gilbert was a man once--a man and a gentleman. How did you contrive to make him a--a--thing?"
"Easily enough," he said placidly. He could not understand why she made all this fuss. "Two years ago I met him at Monte Carlo. I watched him gamble and lose. I heard he was in the War Office, or had some connection with it, so I made his acquaintance and induced him to play still higher. We became intimate enough to discuss money matters--his, of course--and he told me that he was very hard up. He blamed you."
"I dare say," returned Lady Jenny, coldly. "Go on."
"Well, I put the matter to him delicately. I asked him to find out certain details connected with your military organization, and I told him he would be well paid for the information. I am bound to say he kicked at first, but I went on tempting him with bigger sums; and he was so desperately hard up that he closed with me in the end. He soon did all I wanted, and, once in my power, I trained him to be most useful, but I kept on paying him well--oh, yes, I paid him very well."
He made this villainous confession in so cool a tone that Lady Jenny could have struck him. It was horrible to think that she had been the wife of so degraded a creature as Van Zwieten now described her husband to have been, and, "Thank God he is dead!" she cried again. "It would have been worse for both of us if I had known it while he was alive. It might have been I, then, who would have fired the shot. But after all, I suppose it was better that he should fall by your hand!"
The Dutchman started from his seat. "I am a spy, Lady Jenny," he cried, "but I am not a murderer. I leave that sort of thing to you!"
"To me? Do you accuse me of the murder of my husband?"
"I do. Captain Burton, while staying at your house at Chippingholt, left his revolvers behind. You found them; you took one and stole out after your husband and shot him. I found the weapon. Do you take me for a fool? Where were you when you pretended to go to the Rectory?--out in the orchards tracking your husband! You killed him because he was in love with Mrs. Scarse. Deny it if you can!"
"I do deny it. It was all over between him and Mrs. Scarse before he married me. He cared so little for the poor woman that he did not go to her when she was dying. That madman, her husband, came down to tell Gilbert of her death. They met and had a struggle. I thought it was he who had killed him; and indeed, if he had, I should not have blamed him. As it was, you were the man--you, who wanted to get rid of your tool!"
Van Zwieten threw himself back in his chair with a laugh. "You talk nonsense," he said roughly. "Why should I want to get rid of a man who was useful to me? No one was more sorry than I when poor Malet died. Not from any sentimental point of view--oh, dear no!--but because he had become quite a necessary person to me. I found the revolver in the grass, but it was not I who had used it. If I had," he added cynically, "I should have no hesitation in telling you."
"Youdidmurder him!" insisted Lady Jenny, fiercely. "I know where you found the revolver--not, as you say, on the grass--no! it was in the library on the night of the murder. Gilbert had been shooting at a mark in the afternoon; and at night--at nine o'clock--I heard voices in the library. It was you who were with him; you, who came to take away treasonable papers from my unhappy husband. You got what you wanted, and you got the weapon, and he went back with you to Mr. Scarse's cottage. You wanted to get rid of him without danger to yourself; you tried to lay the guilt on Harold Burton to rid yourself of a rival! You shot Gilbert in the orchards, and you threw away the revolver to implicate Harold and walked back to the cottage; you--you murderer!--you Cain!"
She stopped, half choked by her emotions. Van Zwieten seized the opportunity to deny once again the truth of her accusation.
"I tell you I did not kill Malet!"
"Then who did?"
"I don't know. I thought it was Captain Burton; upon my soul I did!"
"Have you a soul?" Lady Jenny asked with scorn. "I should doubt it. However, I stick to my opinion--I believe that you killed my husband. Oh, you need not look alarmed, I am not going to give you up. I have done all I wanted--I have married Harold to Brenda by telling him I could keep you from accusing him of the murder!"
"And can you?" sneered Van Zwieten. He was fighting every inch.
"I am sure I can. I have your box, remember. For my husband's sake I spare you now. I don't want an honorable name to be smirched through him. I don't want to be pointed at as the widow of a spy and a traitor, otherwise I would denounce you as the spy and the murderer I truly believe you to be. This is my bargain, Mr. van Zwieten. You leave England at once, cease to persecute Captain Burton and his wife and I will hold my tongue."
"And if I refuse?" he asked sullenly.
"If you refuse I will have you arrested as you leave this house. You think I can't do that, but I can. I have made all my preparations. I have left nothing to chance. One does not leave things to chance in dealing with a man like you, Mr. van Zwieten," she sneered. "Wilfred Burton is outside with a couple of policemen. I have only to whistle and they will come up."
But Van Zwieten was not so easily bluffed. "On what grounds, may I ask?" he said. "If you wanted to keep this matter quiet for the sake of your husband, you would not have told the police."
"I have told them nothing about your spying business," she said calmly. "You will be arrested on a charge of being concerned in the murder of my husband, and I can assure you that if you are so arrested I will press the charge. On the other hand, if you agree to my terms, I will let you go free. I can easily make things right with the police by telling them that I have been mistaken. Oh, all this is not regular, I know; but I have some little political influence, and I am using it for my own benefit--and for yours, if it comes to that."
He looked at her savagely. Had he obeyed his inclinations he would have wrung her neck. It was gall and wormwood to him to be beaten so thoroughly by a woman. But being in England, and not in a country like the Transvaal, where such a trifling matter as murder would be winked at, he had to suppress his homicidal desires. Quickly reviewing the situation, he could see nothing for it but to yield to the superior power of the enemy. Twist and wriggle as he might, there was no chance of escaping from the trap she had prepared for him. The game was up and there remained only the Transvaal.
"Well!" Lady Jenny asked imperiously, "what have you to say? Will you give me your promise to leave Brenda and her husband unmolested and to leave England at once, or will you allow yourself to be arrested and have all the world know what manner of life yours has been?"
"If you had me exposed, you also would suffer."
"My husband's name would be smirched. I know that, but I am prepared to run that risk. If I had the misfortune to be the wife of a scoundrel, that was not my fault. But I am getting tired of all this. I give you five minutes to make up your mind."
Van Zwieten assumed a cheerful demeanor. He would take the sting of this defeat by accepting it with a good grace. "There is no need for me to consider the matter, dear lady," he said, "I am willing to accept your terms."
"Very good. Then you leave England----"
"To-morrow morning."
"And you will make no further accusations against Captain Burton?"
"No. It would appear that he is innocent."
"And you will not annoy his wife?"
"Since she is his wife, I will promise that also."
"In that case I need detain you no longer, Mr. van Zwieten."
"One moment. My papers; what about them? Am I not to have them?"
The audacity of this demand took away the little woman's breath. "No! Certainly not," she replied sharply. "I should lose my hold over you if I gave them up. Besides, you have given quite enough information to your friend Dr. Leyds. You shall not give any more if I can help it."
"Then what security have I that you will let me go free?"
"You have my word. And, after all, there are no guarantees on either side. What security have I for your silence save the holding of these papers? I know very well that as soon as you think you are safe you will do what injury you can to Captain Burton. But I can thwart you there too, Mr. van Zwieten. Your wish is to go to the British camp as a war correspondent. You would betray all our plans to the enemy. Well, sir, I forbid you to stay with my countrymen. If I hear--as I assuredly will hear that you are in our camp, I will at once disclose the contents of the box, and instructions shall be sent to the front for your arrest. I can checkmate you on every point."
"What about Captain Burton's life? You can't protect that. If you drive me to join the Boers, I can easily have him shot."
Seeing there was no more to be said, he rose to go. At the door he paused. "You have forced me to consent to what you wished," he said, "as I can do nothing against the power you have unlawfully gained over me by stealing my papers. But I give you fair warning that I love Brenda madly, and that I intend to make her my wife in spite of Captain Burton. Once in the Transvaal, I shall join hands openly with my adopted country. Then let Burton look to himself, for I will do my best to make his wife a widow."
"The future is in the hands of God," Lady Jenny said solemnly. "You can go, Mr. van Zwieten."
He bowed ironically and went without another word. He was glad to have escaped so easily; for, after all, he could do as he liked when he was beyond the reach of pursuit. Once he was in the Transvaal, Lady Jenny might show the papers as much as she wished. Had she been wise, he thought, she would have kept him as a hostage. But she had let her chance slip, and he was free to plot and scheme. Needless to say, he intended to keep none of the promises he had made.
Then he went out into the night, slipped past three men, whom he recognized as Wilfred and the constables, and so took his departure like a whipped hound.
Then succeeded a period of waiting and heart-breaking expectation, which Brenda, in common with many of her fellow-countrymen, bore with quiet heroism. Glencoe, Elandslaagte, Rietfontein were fought, and victory crowned the British arms; but the triumphs were only achieved at a bitter cost.
The eyes of the world were eagerly fixed on this first example of modern warfare since the Franco-German campaign; and the military experts of Europe were anxious to learn how the use of scientific weapons of terrible destructive force would affect the warfare of the future. It was soon seen that battles would resolve themselves into artillery duels, since no human beings could stand up against the hail of shot and shell hurled incessantly from repeating machines such as the Mauser, Nordenfelt and Maxim. That the British troops should brave the fury of this death-storm proved to the onlooking world how brightly the valor for their sires burned in their hearts. Even the grudging critics of the Continent could not withhold their tribute of admiration at this matchless daring.
Mr. Scarse had taken a small house, and Brenda lived with him. They had been very happy together since their reconciliation--as happy, at least, as they could be while Harold was at the front. He was with Buller, who, sheltered behind the Tugela River, had not yet commenced to move. How eagerly Brenda scanned the papers through those days of suspense! Wilfred had gone out as a war correspondent, and when his brilliant letters appeared, with what delight she read them over and over again. Mr. Scarse still denounced the war as an unjust one, and unnecessary to boot, and said so in public when he could. Seeing it was useless to attempt to alter her father's views, Brenda never mentioned the subject; and so they got on very well together. Occasionally there came a letter from Harold; then Brenda was happy for the day, for he always wrote full of hope and courage.
Lady Jenny Malet still lingered in England. She had let her Curzon Street house and was staying at a quiet hotel. Knowing, as she did, that Van Zwieten was not wholly crushed, she did not feel inclined to leave the country until she felt tolerably certain that Harold was safe from him. His box she kept in her own possession and showed to no one. Only in the event of Van Zwieten playing the traitor in Natal would she produce them. For no other reason would she smirch the memory of her husband. She had arranged with Wilfred that, if the spy were found in the British camp, information should be sent to her at once. Then she would see the authorities, and he should be dealt with according to martial law. She explained this to Brenda.
"Wilfred is with Harold," she said, "and he will look after him. Van Zwieten knows that on the first sign of his breaking his promise I shall not spare him."
"But how will that affect him out there?" the girl asked dolefully.
"It won't affect him if he is openly on the side of the enemy; but if he is spying in the British camps he will be taken and shot. I don't think he can be with General Buller or Wilfred would have denounced him. He is probably at the Modder."
"But he may be with the enemy?"
"He may be. I have heard nothing of him since he left London. He went over to the Continent--so Wilfred found out--and sailed in a German liner for Delagoa Bay. Yes, he might be with the Boer forces, but I doubt it."
"Why do you doubt it?"
"My dear, Van Zwieten can do no harm to your husband except by treachery. Of course he might shoot him, or have him shot in open battle; but, after all, there would not be the same amount of certainty about that as there would be if he were to get rid of him by underhand means."
"It is terrible!" cried Brenda, wringing her hands. "I don't mind Harold fighting as a soldier should--all the other men are doing the same--but to have a private enemy like Van Zwieten is dreadful."
"I don't think he will find it so easy to do Harold any harm. After all, Brenda, your husband is no fool, and he is on his guard."
"I do wish I could go out to the front."
"With what object? You could do nothing to protect him, and he would only worry about you. Better stay at home, my dear, and try to possess your soul in patience. It is hard, I know; but remember you are not the only one."
Brenda took the advice, and strove to calm herself by constant occupation. She made every sort of comfort she could think of for her husband, and sent him everything that might by the remotest chance be useful to him. This was her great solace, and her father, seeing how it cheered her, gave her every encouragement. But it was a terrible time. Every day brought some fresh sorrow. The Belmont and Graspan victories cheered the nation somewhat; but a period of gloom succeeded, and news came of Gatacre's reverse and the failure of Buller to cross the Tugela. It was then that the suspense became almost too much for Mrs. Burton, for Harold was in the thick of the fighting, and on the very scene of the disasters.
But the long-expected blow fell in due time, and, as usual, when least anticipated.
One morning Mr. Scarse came down first to breakfast, and, as usual, eagerly scanned the papers. When his daughter entered the room she saw at once that something dreadful had happened.
"What is it, father?" she asked, and held out her hand for theDaily Mail.
"Nothing, my dear--nothing!" was his answer. But he kept the paper in his hand. "Only the usual disasters. Oh, this unholy war!"
"Harold--oh, father, tell me the truth--he is wounded--dead! Oh, Harold, Harold!"
"No, no," cried her father, with eagerness, "he is not wounded."
"Then he is killed!" shrieked Brenda.
"Not at all; if he were I should tell you."
She snatched the paper from his hand and spread it out; but tears blinded her, and she could not read a word. "For God's sake, tell me the worst!" was her cry. "Is my darling--is Harold----"
"He is missing!" Mr. Scarse said roughly. "Don't look like that, Brenda. He may have been taken prisoner, and then he would be all right."
"Missing!" echoed the poor young wife. "Oh, poor Harold, pray God he is not dead!"
"Of course he's not. His name would be amongst the killed if he were. He is missing--that is all. He was taken prisoner, no doubt, at the passage of the Tugela. Hope for the best, Brenda."
"Van Zwieten," she said faintly. "I hope this is none of his work."
"Not it. If he had been in the neighborhood Wilfred would have let us know. This is only one of the ordinary chances of war. You should be thankful, my dear, that he isn't on the list of killed or wounded. The chances are that he is a prisoner, and in safety."
"I hope so! I hope so! But, father, let us go down to the War Office!"
"The War Office will know no more than is in this paper."
"I want to make certain of that. Come, father."
"My dear child, you have eaten nothing. You must have some breakfast first."
"I can't eat."
"You must. Bear yourself as an Englishwoman should, Brenda. Think how many women there are at this moment mourning over the death of their dearest. You, at least, have hope--it might have been far worse."
Brenda, agitated as she was, could not but admit the truth of this, and she forced herself to eat. She would need all her strength to bear up against this cruel blow. After all, as her father had very rightly said, things were far from being as bad as they might have been. Her husband's name might have been on the list of those killed or dangerously wounded. As it was he was only missing. News of him might come at any time. She reproached herself with ingratitude toward a kind Providence. In a more cheerful frame of mind she finished her breakfast and got ready to go down to the War Office with her father. There she had an object-lesson in seeing the endurance of women whose news was as bad as it could be. If her own trouble was hard to bear, how infinitely harder was the lot of those whose dead lay on the stricken field.
"Father! father!" she whispered, "I should not repine. I am so much better off than these poor things!"
The news of the Tugela disaster had brought a large crowd to the War Office, and a vast number of people had collected in the street. Men and women were scanning the fatal lists, and many a heartrending sight did the girl see as she stood there waiting for her father, who had gone into the office to see if he could gain any definite news about his son-in-law. Outside, a proud old lady sat waiting in her carriage. She bore herself with dignity, but her face was ashen white. And as Brenda stood there, she saw a girl come out and stagger into the carriage. No word was spoken, but in a storm of weeping she threw herself on the old lady's breast. And the older woman neither wept nor cried out, but drove silently away with the distracted girl beside her, and she was a woman who had given her country of the best she had to offer--the life of her son.
"Oh, poor woman! poor woman!" wept Brenda.
There was a silence as of death in that crowded office, save for now and again a low whisper or a stifled sob. And still the people came and went and came again. Brenda waited with sinking heart. When would her father come? Would he bring good news or bad? She braced herself up to bear the worst.
"It is all right, Brenda," she heard him say at last--he had come up behind her as she stood watching the crowd outside. "Harold is safe!"
"Oh, thank God for that!" she gasped, clinging to his arm. "He is not wounded, is he?"
"No! He is a prisoner. He was out with a detachment of his men on patrol duty, and the Boers captured the whole lot. I expect he will be sent to Pretoria, so you need not be anxious now, my dear."
"I don't--I don't know," she cried feverishly. "If Van Zwieten is there he won't escape so easily."
"Nonsense! Van Zwieten is not omnipotent, as you seem to think. Thank God that your husband is safe, child, and don't go out to meet your troubles."
"I do--I do. I am grateful. Oh, the poor women! The poor fatherless children! Oh, father, what a terrible thing war is!"
"It is indeed," sighed Mr. Scarse. "I remember the Crimea and all the misery it brought. That is why I was so anxious to avert this war. But we are in the midst of it now and we must go through with it. At all events, Brenda, your husband is safe. There will be no more fighting for him."
"I'm sorry for that," she said, much to his surprise. "Harold will eat his heart out now. I would rather he were fighting."
"You are not easy to please, my dear," said her father, drily. "So far as his safety is concerned, he is in the best position. You need not be afraid to look at the papers now."
"I am foolish, I know, father. But I wish he had not been taken. I don't want him to be wrapped up in cotton wool while other men are fighting."
"He would agree with you there. However, you must look upon it as the fortune of war. He will have to stay where he is till peace is proclaimed, and God knows when that will be in the present temper of this misguided nation. Come home now."
So home they went and did their best to take a cheerful view of things. It was a sad Christmas for Brenda, and for hundreds of other women who had suffered far more severely than she had done. To hear of "peace and goodwill" was like mockery in her ears. She knew that the war was a just one; that it had been forced upon England by the ambition of an obstinate old man and that in going through with this terrible business the country was fulfilling, as ever, her appointed mission of civilization. But even so, it was terrible to open the papers and read sad tales of grief and disaster. Hundreds of young lives--the flower of British manhood--were being sacrificed to the horrible Moloch of war; and the end was not yet in sight.
Toward the end of December the nation had been somewhat cheered by the news of General French's victory at Colesberg, but the year ended in gloom and sorrow and the wailing of Rachel for her children. And on the Continent the enemies of freedom and honest government rejoiced at the blows an enlightened Government was receiving. Truly, in those dark hours, Britannia was the Niobe of nations. But she set her teeth and fought on.
No letter had come from Wilfred about his brother's disappearance; neither did he mention it in the columns of the paper of which he was correspondent. The first news which Mrs. Burton received, other than from the War Office, was a letter which arrived one morning with the Transvaal postmark. In fear and trembling she opened it, thinking it contained an announcement from some kind soul in Pretoria that Harold was dead. To her astonishment and horror it proved to be from Van Zwieten, and was addressed to her, "care of" Mrs. St. Leger. She opened it, and was found later on by the parlor-maid in a dead faint. The first thing she did on regaining consciousness was to read it again. As she got to the end, she heard her father's step. In a tremor of excitement she ran to him.
"Oh, father, look at this it is from Van Zwieten--written from Pretoria."
Mr. Scarse was astonished. The Dutchman was the last person in the world from whom he expected to hear. But the cool insolence of the man seemed to be beyond all bounds. Putting on his glasses he read the letter. Brenda sat beside him, trying to control her excitement. And this was what he read:
"Dear Mrs. Burton,--Your husband has been taken prisoner by our burghers, and is now in Pretoria, and more or less in my charge. I write to you to say that unless you come out to me here, at once, I will have your husband shot as a spy. There is plenty of evidence to allow of this being done. I hope, therefore, that you will save his life by obeying my orders. If not, you may expect to hear of his death. You know I never speak vainly.--Yours with all love,
"Waldo van Zwieten."
"Father!" cried Brenda, when he had finished reading this cold-blooded letter, "what is to be done? My poor boy!"
"It is a trick to get you out there and into his power," said Mr. Scarse, in a tone of decision. "I don't believe he can do it--no, not for one moment."
"But I am quite sure he can. You know how vindictive he is. Oh, how can we save Harold?"
"By seeing the authorities. I will get a request sent out to Kruger; he is a God-fearing man and would not permit this atrocity."
"It will do no good," the girl said, shaking her head sadly. "No, father, I dare say if such a request were cabled to the President he would do his best; but Van Zwieten would try and kill Harold in the meantime, and if he succeeded--as he would succeed--he would say it was an accident."
"I believe he is capable of anything. But what else is to be done? You cannot obey this insolent demand!"
"I must--to save Harold!"
"Go out to Pretoria?--impossible!"
"I don't see that," she said fervently. "I can go to Delagoa Bay by some German ship--the German ships go there, don't they?--and from there I can take the train to Pretoria. It is quite simple. Then I will see Van Zwieten and trick him into letting Harold be under some one else's care for a time. Then I shall speak to the President and tell him all. I am sure he will help me, and I shall be able to take Harold away. Then Van Zwieten won't have a chance of shooting him, as he would have if a cable were sent. Leave the matter to me, father. I am a woman, and Van Zwieten is in love with me. I can blind him and trick him."
Her father looked at her in astonishment. She had evidently made up her mind to go out and get the better of the Dutchman, as she said.
"It is a mad scheme, Brenda!"
"It is the only scheme I can think of by which I can save my husband."
"But, Brenda, listen to reason. Think what a scoundrel Van Zwieten is!"
"All the more reason that I should save Harold from him."
"He might insist, as a condition of you husband's safety, that you and he be divorced. These things can be arranged, you know. And then he would marry you himself. He is capable of making the most impossible demands."
"I dare say. I know he is capable of any villainy. But you leave the matter to me, father, and I will think of some scheme by which I can get the better of him. One thing is certain--I must go at once to Pretoria."
"But, Brenda, you cannot travel alone."
"Lady Jenny will come with me. If she will not, then I shall go alone. Do you think I care for appearances when Harold is in danger of his life? I will plead with Kruger--with his wife--I am sure they will help me."
"H'm! Remember, Kruger is not omnipotent, and Van Zwieten is powerful. The President may not care to offend him. Besides, you can see for yourself, from this letter, that the man is still in love with you. Once he got you into his power he would stick at nothing that would make you a free woman."
"In that case I would die with Harold. But I don't believe the Boers are so uncivilized. Kruger will help me--I feel sure of it. You say he is a good man."
"He is," Mr. Scarse said. He was one of the few people who had fallen into this error. "Yes, if anything can be done, Kruger is the man who will do it."
"Then, dear father, will you make inquiries for me about a German ship? I want to go as soon as possible."
"Not alone, Brenda--not alone," said her father. "I will go with you. Yes, child, I will myself see the President. He knows how I have advocated his views in this country, and he will not refuse me this. We will go together."
She threw her arms round his neck. "Darling father," she murmured, "how good you are. Yes, we will go, and save my darling from that wicked man. Lady Jenny outwitted him, so I will do the same. Oh, how astonished Harold will be to see me at Pretoria!"
Brenda Burton was a singularly obstinate young woman. Once she had decided upon a scheme she never rested until she had carried it through. And being thus minded toward the affairs of everyday life, how much more obstinate was she likely to be touching a matter concerning the safety of her husband. Leaving Mr. Scarse to make his arrangements--and he had much to do--she herself ascertained full particulars as to the route, and the cost of the journey.
"We can make for the Canary Islands to-morrow," she told her father. "There is a Castle liner leaving in the afternoon. There we can pick up the German boat,Kaiser Fritz, which goes on to Delagoa Bay."
"Can't we go straight to the Cape in an English boat and get a steamer there to the bay?"
"Oh, yes, but the other way will be quicker, I think. The day after we arrive at the Canaries we can pick up the German boat, and we sha'n't have to transship at the Cape. I don't think we can do better."
"Well, as you please," said he. "I should like to go in theKaiser Fritzmyself; it would afford me an excellent opportunity for learning the true opinions of the Germans about this--to my thinking--most unjust war."
Brenda shrugged her shoulders. "I dare say they will be disagreeable," she said. "They are so jealous of us, and if our country went to the wall--which she never will do," interpolated she, patriotically--"Germany would be in a very bad position. She would not be the overwhelming power she hopes to be with France and Russia at her heels. But don't let us talk politics. All I want is to make use of their boat to reach Delagoa Bay. Give me a check, father, and I will take the passages. To-morrow you must be ready to get as far as Southampton."
So, like the quick-witted woman she was, she attended to all the business, and her father found, to his astonishment, that he had nothing to do but step on board the liner. Lady Jenny Malet came to see them off. She could do nothing against Van Zwieten at present; but there was no knowing what he might do at any moment, and they must be prepared to checkmate him. So she gave Mrs. Burton a registered address, in case she might have to communicate with her, and did her best to cheer her.
"I feel sure you will find him all right, dear," she said, as she kissed the girl. "He is not the man to be shot by a scoundrel like Van Zwieten. And you can coax Kruger into doing what you want. You are pretty enough to do what you like with him."
Brenda smiled faintly--the first smile for many day's. "I don't think that will have much influence with a man like Kruger," she said.
"Nonsense, my dear. He is a man, and men are always susceptible. I'm sure you have had enough experience of that," sighed Lady Jenny. "All your troubles have arisen out of that horrid Van Zwieten being in love with you."
Brenda was not much comforted by this view of the situation. She hoped rather to move Mr. Kruger by an appeal to his religious convictions, though these were of the stern cast of the Old Testament. However, it was in a very hopeful frame of mind that she went on board the liner, and she cabled to Wilfred at Spearman's Camp telling him that she was coming out. In the hope of making things as safe as possible for her husband, she cabled also to Van Zwieten. Surely, when he received that, he would do nothing at all events, until he had seen and come to terms with her. What those terms would be she could not guess. But she imagined they would include a suggestion that she should obtain a divorce from Harold. He was, as she well knew, quite as obstinate as his respected President--and with none of his morality or his religion. In fact, Brenda was going to Pretoria without any sort of definite idea save one--that somehow or other she would save her husband from this man. That was her sole object, and achieve it she would by hook or by crook; and she had every confidence in her own capacity to outwit the Dutchman, wily as he was. And the days of calm and peace on board the boat afforded her ample time for conjecture and reflection. She had grown now to hate this man with a hatred that would only be appeased by his destruction.
They made a quick run to the islands, and the sea air did her the world of good. There were many passengers on board; but to no one of them did she in any way confide. Sad at heart, she kept very much to herself, and either read or indulged in her own thoughts. Her father was, socially speaking, anything but popular among his fellow-passengers. Air his Little England opinions he would, with the result that the majority of the passengers, having relatives at the front, gave him a wide berth. He made not a single convert; and all those whom he tried to argue round to his own way of thinking were glad enough when he got off at Madeira.
TheKaiser Fritzcame up to time and Brenda soon found herself on the way south. She did not much fancy the foreign boat--officers, crew and passengers being all pro-Boer to a man. They were polite enough to the English lady, but they took no trouble to disguise their real opinions. The captain expressed some surprise that she should be going to Delagoa Bay, and seemed inclined to suspect some political significance in her doing so, though it was difficult to see what grounds he could have had for such an absurd idea. And Mrs. Burton did not enlighten him, but left the matter to her father. Mr. Scarse intimated that his daughter was going to Pretoria to nurse her wounded husband, an explanation which seemed to appeal to the sentimental Germans. After that they were increasingly polite to her. But she preferred her own cabin. Her father was more companionable; but even he found but scant pleasure in their outspoken opinions on the subject of England, and her inevitable downfall, as they put it. Even he, with his Little England proclivities, felt his patriotism awake in the most alarming manner at the way these foreigners jeered and scoffed. Smarting under the insults, he developed quite a Jingo feeling, much to his daughter's amusement; and he ended by withdrawing himself as much as possible from the society of all on board. Father and daughter were a good deal together, and both looked forward eagerly to the end of a disagreeable voyage.
One night, when they were south of the Line, they were on deck together. The heavens were bright with stars, and the great grey circle of the sea lay round them like a trackless desert. Most of those on board were down below, and the two had the deck to themselves. Brenda was disinclined for conversation. Her mind was, as usual, full of thoughts of her husband, and the only feeling she seemed cognizant of was one of joy in the thought that every day was bringing her nearer to him. Mr. Scarse broke the silence.
"Brenda," he said, "did Lady Jenny say anything about that murder?"
"Very little. She said that Van Zwieten had accused her of the crime, and that she was innocent. Of course I told her that I had never dreamed of such a thing, and never would have credited it for one moment."
"H'm! At one time I thought myself that she might be guilty," he said. "But I know now that I was wrong. That piece of crape certainly was suspicious. But poor Scarse told me that in his struggle with Malet the scarf had been torn. I never noticed it myself when I burned it. I suppose that Malet kept it in his hand without being aware of it."
"Very likely. At all events, I am sure Lady Jenny is innocent--as innocent as my uncle. He is happy, I hope?"
"In the asylum? Yes, poor fellow, he is as happy as he can be anywhere. He has every comfort, and kind treatment. But I fear he will not live long. Van Zwieten gave him a fright by threatening to denounce him for the murder, unless he told his sad story. Some of it he did tell, but not all. I was foolish enough to relate the rest of it to Van Zwieten. But I had no alternative at the time. He was quite capable of making a scandal. Brenda, who did kill Malet? Every day the thing seems to become more obscure."
"Well, father, I can't help thinking it was Van Zwieten. Lady Jenny thinks so too."
"You don't say so? But the revolver--it was Harold's."
"Harold left them--that is, he left a case of two revolvers behind him, and both were in the library--in Mr. Malet's library on that night. Van Zwieten came to see him, and took one of them with him--at least, that is what Lady Jenny thinks."
"Brenda, that sounds improbable. Why should he kill Malet? He hardly knew him, child."
"Indeed, you are wrong there, father," she said, "he knew him only too well. Listen!" and she related the story the widow had told her concerning her husband's treachery toward his own country. Mr. Scarse was deeply indignant and indulged in language unusually strong for him. Little Englander though he was, and misguided on many points though he might be, he was an honest and an honorable man; and he could not understand how a man in Mr. Malet's position could have so deliberately played the part of traitor. When he was in possession of all the facts, he quite agreed with Brenda that Van Zwieten was the culprit.
"Then we'll bring him to book," he said angrily. "I will force him to confess."
"That will do no good, father. The truth cannot come to light without the story of Mr. Malet's treachery being known; and Lady Jenny is more than anxious to avoid that. No, Van Zwieten must be left to the punishment of his own conscience."
"I don't think that will trouble him much," Mr. Scarse said grimly. "How I have been deceived in that man! I am sure, when I tell Kruger his true character, he will have nothing to do with him."
Brenda did not contradict this statement, although she felt pretty certain that the foxy old President was very little better himself. How her father could reconcile the opinion he held that Kruger was an honest, harmless old man with the fact that he had forced this terrible war upon England was more than she could understand. She wondered if, when her father got to Pretoria, his discovery of the true aims of the Transvaal Government would be at all modified. But of this she had her doubts. He was the most obstinate of men, and an angel from heaven could not have altered his opinion once it had been formed. Knowing this, she never argued with him. It was absolutely futile, and only caused trouble.
At the Cape the vessel stopped for a time. Brenda did not go ashore. She felt too sad and heavy at heart to take any interest in the sight of new scenes and new people. She sat on the deck and looked at the smiling land, at the glitter of the water as it danced in the hot tropical sun. The azure of sky and sea, the transports, merchant ships, and men-of-war, the whiteness of the city set in groves of green, the whole lying under the shadow of Table Mountain, all went to form a picture unsurpassable in its peculiar beauty. It was her first sight of Africa. But it might be Harold's grave, and she hated it for its very beauty. She would have had all Nature mourn for her dear one.
Mr. Scarse went on shore and returned with the latest war news. The tactics seemed to be mostly of a defensive order. General French had driven back a Boer force which had attacked Colesberg, and the gallant Ladysmith garrison had repelled a terrible assault. The Cape Town people were in high glee over this last success, anticipating, as they did, that the Boers would now be disheartened. And no doubt it might have had this effect for a time; but the Teutonic race is not so easily beaten or discouraged. Mr. Scarse remarked on this when they left for Delagoa Bay.
"The difficulty of this war," he said, "is, that for the first time Teuton is fighting against Teuton. The very dogged courage which has enabled us to win so many battles against the Latin nations is being used against us by the Boers. We do not know when we are beaten either. But this will not be the easy task we thought, and the struggle will go on till one or other of the combatants is utterly crushed."
"Oh, England will win!" Brenda said confidently.
"I believe she will. I can't imagine England being beaten. But, as I said before, it will be no easy task. By this time they have found that out. My wonder is that they could not see that England had met a foe with courage and determination equal to her own. If she conquers, it will be one of her greatest achievements."
"Shewillconquer," his daughter repeated, and she refused to discuss the subject further. That Britain could fail never entered her head.
TheKaiser Fritzdid not stop at Durban, somewhat to the astonishment of Mr. Scarse, as he had understood that it was customary, and on applying to the captain he received a gruff and discourteous reply. The man seemed anxious, and was always sweeping the sea with his glass. There was one other Englishman on board, and Mr. Scarse asked him if he could make out what all this anxiety and incivility meant.
"Perhaps she's got contraband goods on board. Ammunition and guns," was the reply. "These boats usually call at Durban! My own opinion is that the captain does not want to have his ship searched."
"But, my dear sir, Germany is neutral."
"I dare say," the young fellow said with a grin. "Germany is anything that suits her book. If she can smuggle in ammunition to assist the Boers you may be sure she will do it. My good sir, what with mercenaries in the Boer army, bread-stuffs, ammunition, guns and rifles being imported, we are fighting, not only the Transvaal, but the entire Continent of Europe. The Powers would give their ears to see us smashed!"
This was a somewhat new view to take of the matter, and one which did not commend itself to Mr. Scarse. He had looked upon the Boers as a handful of honest, God-fearing farmers--his favorite expression when speaking of them--struggling for their freedom against the overwhelming power of Great Britain. That they had colossal armaments, hundreds of mercenaries, and clever agents scheming for them all over the world, had never entered his head. In further conversations with this young Englishman he received considerable enlightenment, and he began to modify his views somewhat as to the absolute guilessness of Oom Paul and his gang. But he kept his opinions to himself.
TheKaiser Fritzdid not slip past Durban as her captain had expected. When at dawn she was almost abreast of that port she was brought to by an English cruiser. There was a polite signal to "Heave to!" and the German captain, with much bad language, felt himself forced to comply with the request. The news travelled quickly through the ship, and every one came on deck, amongst the foreigners being Brenda and her father and the young Englishman. The Germans were savage, and talked a great deal about the insult to the flag of the Fatherland. Abuse of England was rife, and as she listened Brenda felt her blood boil.
Under the saffron sky of the dawn lay the menacing form of the cruiser, displaying the glorious flag of England. Across the deep blue of the sea came a large boat manned by the bluejackets, and no sooner were they alongside than a smart officer jumped on deck with a request to see the papers of theKaiser Fritz. The captain blustered and swore in high and low Dutch; but the officer, though scrupulously polite, was quite firm. At last the papers were produced and examined, but no contraband goods appearing on the manifest, the vessel was allowed to proceed on her way, to the unbounded delight of the captain, whilst the English officer swore under his breath. The latter felt confident that there were guns and ammunition on board, and that the manifest was false. However, he had to appear satisfied, and prepared to return to his ship. But before leaving, he asked if Mr. Scarse and Mrs. Burton were on board.
"I am Mr. Scarse," said that gentleman, a good deal surprised to hear his name suddenly spoken by this stranger, "and this is Mrs. Burton. But how did you know we were here?"
"I will explain that when you are on board our boat, sir."
"But we are going on to Delagoa Bay," said Brenda.
"In search of Captain Burton?" returned the lieutenant. "In that case there is no need for you to go further. Captain Burton has escaped, and is now at Durban."
Poor Brenda nearly fainted at this joyful and unexpected news; but the eyes of the ship--envious foreign eyes--were upon her, and she struggled bravely to keep herself in hand. The officer repeated his information, and asked them to get their things together with all speed as the German was anxious to proceed. Hardly believing the joyful news that Harold was out of the power of Van Zwieten, father and daughter went below, hastily got together their belongings, and were soon on their way to the cruiser. The Germans gave vent to an ironical "Hoch!"
"Brutes!" muttered the lieutenant. "Give way, men! Are you comfortable, Mrs. Burton?"
"Quite--thank you," she said; "but how did you know I was on board thatKaiser Fritz?How did Captain Burton escape? How did----"
"You will get answers to all these questions on board theJuno, Mrs. Burton. But I may tell you that we expected to find you and Mr. Scarse on board theKaiser Fritz. Of course we came in search of contraband; but we were able to kill two birds with one stone by picking you up as well. I am very glad of it too!" and the young man, who had the true sailor's eye for beauty, looked as though he meant what he said.
The boat slipped under the grey bulk of the cruiser, and they were assisted up the side--a matter of some difficulty in mid-ocean--and were received by the captain. Then he anxiously asked for his officer's report concerning the suspected contraband. It was evidently a disappointment to him, and full steam ahead for Durban was then ordered. The boat was swung on the davits, the screw revolved, and in a few moments theJunowas getting along at a great rate. Then the captain took Brenda by the arm and led her down to a cabin.
"You know that your husband has escaped, Mrs. Burton?" he asked, smiling.
"Yes, but how did he get away? I feel so bewildered at all----"
"Will you walk in there, please?" was the reply. "Some one is waiting to explain."
Brenda began to tremble. Something told her what she might expect. As she entered, she saw a man in khaki, tall and slim, waiting for her with outstretched arms. She uttered a cry of joy. "Oh, Harold! Harold! my darling boy! At last! at last!"
And she fell into her husband's arms.