CHAPTER IXTHE KISS IN THE KING'S GARDENO, that a man might knowThe end of this day's business, ere it come!But it sufficeth that the day will end,And then the end is known.—Shakespeare: Julius Cæsar.Nick and the General were not returned when I reached Framkor Castle, but they came puffing in for dinner on schedule time. Where they had been they did not divulge, nor did I question them, feeling that their rapid comings and goings had to do with the politics of Bharbazonia with which I was not concerned."Sorry to have run away from you, Dale," said Nick, "but needs must when the Devil drives." He jerked his head in the General's direction."Humph," grunted the General."What did you do with yourself all day?" asked Nick."I have had an enjoyable time. I've been over to Dhalmatia.""What?" exclaimed the General.After his warning to me, I suppose the old fellow imagined I would not care to visit the Red Fox. Neither Nick nor I had told him of the result of our first visit. Had he known that, the storm clouds gathering upon his brow would have been twice as dark."Yes," I continued, "and I have seen both the Prince and the Princess, General. The Red Fox was not tricking you when he announced the birth of twins."Then I told the story of my afternoon as rapidly as possible. But the General was not impressed. The aged, as the homely old expression has it, are frequently "sot in their ways" and I suppose the General had hugged this favourite delusion to his breast so long that he could not let it go. When I was through he remarked dryly:"Then you did not see the Prince and the Princess together, after all?""I did not see them standing side by side," I admitted; "but it was practically the same thing.""I always told you, General," chimed in Nicholas, "that you were wrong. I agree with Dale, and you might as well surrender as gracefully as possible."But the General refused to surrender."'Tis some trick of the Red Fox," he stoutly maintained, and no amount of argument could move him. He met every advance and escaped every tight corner with the same reply. In his mind Ananias was a truth-teller compared with the Duke of Dhalmatia. We finally dropped the subject, and talked of other matters."We are going down to Nischon in the morning, Dale," said Nick. "Do you want to go along?""Indeed I do," I replied. I was anxious to see the capital of which I had heard so much and more especially the Cathedral in which the Prince was to be crowned.Accordingly, when the General awakened us before daylight, I dressed with alacrity. The sun was just rising when we passed Solonika's summer-house, but, early as we were, others were abroad ahead of us. Drawn up on the side of the road, as if to permit us to pass, were six horsemen, muffled up to the eyes in long Spanish cloaks, their spirited horses backing, dancing and rearing as we passed. I could not be sure, but I received the impression that they were not riding forward upon the road, but waiting. One of their number recognized the General and saluted him with a familiar wave of the hand. But the General refused to return the salute. We passed swiftly on.Although their action was military, the horsemen did not strike me as being soldiers; for one thing they were not dressed in uniform. Perhaps they were a party of young nobles out for a lark. They resembled Duke Marbosa's messenger who had inquired about Nicholas's return. But what could the gentry be doing on the road at such an unearthly hour in the morning?It was a perfect automobiling day, one of those sunshiny mornings when one is glad to be alive. We passed many estates and small villages on the way, and the townsfolk had a smile and a hearty cheer for the General. As we whirled by a roadside tavern a bystander waved his hat in the air and shouted a greeting.It sounded as if he said "Long live Palmora!" and the crowd joined in the general cheer that followed. But all was not love and good fellowship in this country. We received a rude shock on the outskirts of this very village.There, beside a small chapel of the Greek Church, standing in the midst of a crowded graveyard, was a charred pyre of wood, from the center of which rose an iron post pointing to the sky. On the top of the post a gilded Greek cross glistened in the sunlight, unharmed by the smoke and flames which had raged below.Tied to the post, blackened and burnt until the flesh had dropped off in places, exposing the bones beneath, was the naked body of a woman. Although the fire had been out for days, smoke still found its way upward, like a gentle blue vapor, fading quickly away. One or two villagers were leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the graveyard, but they were more interested in the automobile than in the terrible scene behind them."Look," I cried, pointing it out to Nick.He touched Teju Okio on the shoulder and the machine was brought to a standstill as quickly as possible; but we had so far overrun the place that we had to back to bring it opposite. The General talked with the idlers and translated their story to me."It is the witch of Utrepect," he said. "The priests burnt her at the stake a week ago for blasphemy. She had considerable influence over the minds of the villagers, and was undermining their faith. The Patriarch at Nischon warned her to keep silent. The church excommunicated her and forbade her to come upon church property. She defied them and last Sunday cursed the priest of the chapel upon the spot where she now is. He seized her, aided by his congregation, raised the pyre and burnt her to death as an example for all men who refuse to listen to the church. No one is permitted to touch her on pain of death. So there she hangs until the dogs devour her."Could it be possible that such barbarism existed in the name of religion in any European country in this the twentieth century? Had anyone told me this a few hours before, I would have laughed at him. But here was the concrete fact before my horrified eyes."Drive on, Okio," I cried, sick of the sight. The Jap obeyed."That must have been the witch Princess Solonika spoke of as having prophesied that Raoul would never be king," said Nick, smiling at my show of disgust. Neither he nor the General seemed to think the priest's action at all unusual. Cotton Mather had his following even among the Pilgrim Fathers.Nischon was a matter of fifty miles from Castle Framkor, but Teju Okio manipulated his levers to such good purpose that, in spite of the stop at Utrepect, we came in sight of the ancient city before half past nine. Nischon in the sunlight was a beautiful city. It burst upon us as we reached the top of a high hill and we could thus look down upon its roof tops.It lay in a valley on both sides of the river they call the Kneister, the only waterway of importance in Bharbazonia, which flows away to the south and empties into the Black Sea, at Bizzett, by means of a subterranean passage through the mountain wall.The two hills which formed the valley sloped gently down on both sides to the water edge, leaving no level land anywhere. On the tableland, on top of these hills, we could see the numerous castles of the nobles, thrusting their proud stone turrets above the trees like self-appointed watchdogs of the city.In all the myriad hives of houses below, one building caught my eye before the rest and I did not need to be told that it was the Cathedral. It was a huge structure, standing alone upon a terraced green square on our side of the river. Four minarets, one on each corner, piercing the sky, first riveted the attention. They bore aloft great gilded Greek crosses that flashed the blinding rays of the reflected sun in our eyes as we moved along the road.Four great domes made up the main body of the structure, three huddling together in a single row in front and the fourth rearing its huge bulk high above the rest in the rear. Like the crosses, the tops of the domes were gilded and the whole effect was that of a building of gold."The Cathedral," Nick informed me, "is one of the oldest buildings in the country. It is similar in architectural design to the mosque of St. Sophia which we saw from the yacht as we passed Constantinople. St. Sophia, considered the oldest Christian church in the world, was converted by the Mohammedans into a mosque in the sixteenth century."The palace of the King was also a noticeable building. Like the Cathedral it was surrounded by its green terrace gardens which held it aloof from the rest of the houses. It was on the other side of the river close to the bank. In fact a wall of ancient masonry enclosed the grounds and rose sheer from the water on the river side. Turrets were built in this wall at regular intervals, as a protection for the castle itself, which stood alone in the centre of the grounds, built more for warfare than for beauty.The progress of the General in the machine through the streets of Nischon was like the approach of a conquering hero. Everywhere carters drew respectfully aside to let us pass. Men stood with uncovered heads, and women at the windows held their children up to see the great man. Thirty years had but enhanced the glory of the General's achievements as the conqueror of the Turks at the head of the Bharbazonian army. Old men, who had seen service with him during that campaign, cheered and blessed their leader as he passed; and to these the General kissed his hand and shouted friendly greeting."I would give all I possess," whispered Nick, "to have the love and respect of the people as the General has.""Do not despair," I replied; "one day the opportunity may arrive when you will win their esteem. We are all children of chance."Green uniformed soldiers guarded the drawbridge which spanned the river and led to the King's palace. They stood at attention as the heavy car rolled over the creaking planks. The iron doors in the castle wall swung back on their rusty hinges, and we passed over a driveway winding between green well-kept lawns until we came to the palace.A lieutenant of the King's Guard opened the tonneau door and assisted us to alight, and a uniformed courier ushered us into the presence of the King, the mighty hero of the battle at the Turk's Head Inn. Gregory was seated at the council table with another old man who I learned was called Nokolovich, a prominent member of the king's official family and his chief advisor. I suppose in any other country he would have had the title of Prime Minister.Both greeted General Palmora effusively and were gravely attentive to Nicholas. From their manner toward him it was clear that he was known as a Bharbazonian among them and that he had their respect. I was formally presented to the King, in whose eyes, curious to say, I found favour because I was a countryman of General Grant."I take great pleasure even now," said the King, "in reading the history of his battles. His example inspired me in our own wars."In due time all four plunged into the mysterious business of state which brought them together, conversing in the Bharbazonian dialect and I had ample opportunity to observe the great warrior.Gregory was indeed a commanding figure. Nature meant him to be a king, for she had given him a stature above his fellows and a lordly mien which even old age could not destroy. And he was very old. His great beard, long and white, fell almost to his waist; his snowy locks were brushed back from his forehead and curled in silvery ringlets upon his broad shoulders. Time had bent him but little, and had not taken from him that penetrating glance which suggested his shrewd brother, the Red Fox of Dhalmatia.But the King looked like a man who ate and drank too well; in whose veins the red blood ran too full. And Mother Nature it seems had sent him her first warning, if one might judge from the lack of control existing along one side of the body, most plainly visible in the halting way he moved his left arm and leg. His determination to abdicate, and bring his life work to a happy conclusion after thirty years of ruling, showed that he intended to heed the warning and take a well-earned rest. It was just as well, for the hand that adjusted the glasses to his dim-visioned eyes shook with a great trembling; it was clear to my medical mind that he could not withstand a second stroke.I was glad when Nick's part in the proceedings came to an end, and he suggested that we take a walk in the gardens overlooking the river. But I was not long in Nicholas's company. In the gardens we encountered Princess Teskla, the King's daughter. She came suddenly from the shrubbery at the side of the gravel walk and stood in our pathway smiling, her eyes on Nick.Seldom have I seen a more handsome young woman, and handsome is the word, for "pretty" or "beautiful" would be too weak to picture her. Like her father she was cast in a generous mould. There was no denying the physical attraction of her voluptuous figure and finely chiselled face, wherein was the suggestion of Spanish beauty due no doubt to her swarthy skin and coal-black hair. Such beauty as this might Juno have possessed to dazzle the eyes of the gods on Mount Olympus."Nicholas," she cried as she extended her arms toward him, red roses mantling her cheeks and a smile of happiness parting her full lips."Teskla," cried he with equal warmth.As I watched the friendly greeting it dawned upon me that all Nick's journeys in the automobile during our stay in Bharbazonia had not in the past, and would not in the future, be to meetings of the Order at the Turk's Head tavern.Has it ever been forced upon you that the old saying is true, "Two is company and three is a crowd?" If you have ever been so unfortunate you will understand why I quietly stepped from the path and slipped into the bushes; and why it was that I continued my walk alone. When next they thought of me, if they remembered me at all, I had disappeared and I do not blame them if they were glad.For my part I too was well content, for I found a comfortable seat on the low wall overlooking the river. Below me the water rippled over the pebble bottom, reflecting the flat-roofed houses on the further shore. It was pleasantly warm in the sun. A few more weeks, and Solonika, with the Prince and her father, might be walking in these gardens while I—I should be preparing for my journey back to America to resume my prosaic practice of medicine. My vacation in Bharbazonia so far had been pleasantly ideal. Somehow I did not view with joy the idea of leaving Framkor, the summer-house of Dhalmatia and, last of all, Solonika.From my position on the wall I had a view of two walks in the garden which joined at right angles in front of me, one leading from the palace and the other corning from the depth of the garden. My reverie was interrupted by the sound of footsteps upon the gravel pavement. The King, General Palmora and the Prime Minister were approaching. Looking down the other walk I saw the Princess and Nicholas. Although I could see both parties, they could not see each other for the foliage.Just as the King and his friends arrived at the junction, and turned to go down the walk toward Nicholas and the girl, Nick bent his head and kissed the Princess upon the mouth. They were totally unaware that they were observed. She gave a little cry and struggled, not too vigorously, I thought, to free herself. The three old men stood as if transfixed, watching the love scene. Nicholas refused to release her, although she playfully boxed his ears, and in return he kissed her again. Then they stood apart, looked at each other and laughed aloud."Teskla!" shouted the King.They jumped as if a bomb had been exploded between them, their happy smiles fading. The Princess acted as if she were about to faint, but she recovered herself. I could see that she was speaking quickly and in a low tone to her companion, and that he was heeding what she said. Then, instead of fronting the King, as I fully expected him to do, Nick slipped away into the shrubbery and disappeared, leaving the woman to face her father alone. Truly Nicholas in America and Nicholas in Bharbazonia were two entirely different fellows.But there was method in the Princess's madness. That rosy young woman came timidly to her father's side. He was fumbling with his glasses but he did not get them adjusted until Nick was gone. But he held them to his eyes and looked coldly at his daughter. She, too happy to care, saucily returned his angry stare.The King asked her one question, which, being in the dialect, I could not understand. She continued to face him bravely and spoke two words in reply. It sounded as if she said "Prince Raoul." Whatever her answer, it had a great effect upon the General and the Prime Minister. Those two worthies threw up their hands in astonishment, or remonstrance, but they were silenced by a look from the Princess.The two words also had a remarkable influence upon the angry father. He dropped his glasses from his eyes and laughed, his former passion forgotten like an April shower. He nodded his old white head, rubbed his hands as if the news pleased him beyond expression, and kissed his daughter, not where Nick had kissed her, but upon the brow. Together they retraced their steps. It was all a mystery to me.When they were at a distance I quietly slipped from my position on the wall and joined them. But I could not learn what had occurred to please the King so highly."Are we to congratulate Nick?" I whispered to the General, who had dropped behind with me."Shut up," said he, rudely, and then I saw that he was very angry.On the palace steps we found Nick waiting for us. The Princess waved her hand to him as if to signal that all was well, and he came fearlessly forward and walked beside her. He met the General's scowl with a smile. The King seemed totally unaware that Nick had been the offender. It was plain that we had to thank a clever woman's quick wit for saving a difficult situation.But at what terrible cost I was to learn later!The King was in high spirits during the luncheon, but the General and the Prime Minister were inclined to be moody. Princess Teskla and Nicholas behaved scandalously, I thought, openly "making eyes" at each other across the table. But on the whole the meal went off as smoothly as a marriage bell.It was not until we were homeward bound in the machine that I was able to get to the bottom of the garden mystery."What did the Princess tell the King?" I asked in a whisper, that the General might not start his lecture again. He had given his godson a piece of his mind in the home language for the first ten miles, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie."She is a clever little rogue," whispered Nick, rather proud of the girl's achievement, "she told him it was Prince Raoul.""But why was he so pleased?""He would like to see Teskla married to Raoul.""So?" I replied, remembering what Solonika had said. "But does the King think Prince Raoul is in the habit of visiting her in the gardens clandestinely?""Yes; she has often used that excuse before.""You are a lucky dog," I said.But Teskla's little white lie was destined to grow big and bear unexpected fruit. We had not mastered the secret of the King's great joy. A little thing like a kiss, it is said, was the cause for one exodus from a garden; or was it a purloined apple?CHAPTER XTHE DISCOVERYCan this be true? an arch observer cries,—Yes, rather moved, I saw it with these eyes.Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;I could not had I seen it with my own.—Cowper: Conversation.In spite of his recent flirtation with Princess Teskla, being a roomy-hearted youth, Nick could not refrain from casting his eyes in the direction of Solonika's summer-house when we passed Dhalmatia that afternoon about four o'clock. She was seated at her accustomed place by the window, and smiled at us in recognition of our friendly bows.I looked around for the strange horsemen of the morning, but they were nowhere to be seen. You may believe that I had not forgotten my promise to meet Solonika in her little den. And I flattered myself that she was there waiting for me."Stop the car, Nick," I said, "and I will find out when the Prince intends to go on his boar hunt. He will be glad to know that you also accept his invitation.""Don't be late for dinner, young man," cautioned the General, whose worst fault, perhaps, was his worship of promptness. I promised to be on hand at seven o'clock and stepped into the road. A few yards brought me in sight of the summer-house, but, when I knocked for admittance, no one responded. Solonika's chair was empty and the den deserted. Seeing me pass in the automobile, she had imagined that I would not return and had evidently gone back to the castle.I hurried along the driveway toward the castle, keeping a sharp lookout for the Princess, but she was not to be seen standing or walking on the lawn. I stopped at the clearing just before you reach the top of the hill, thinking I had missed her among the trees below and knowing that she must soon come in view on her way home, but, although I tarried there long enough to consume two cigarettes, Solonika did not appear. How she escaped me was a mystery, but, since my fancied excuse for the visit had to do with the Prince, I determined to go to the castle directly.Dajerak, the old butler, greeted me with a smile and bowed me through the door. I dispensed with his willing but slow services, and made my way to the apartments of the Prince without standing on ceremony. Satisfied as to my destination, he went about his business and left me to my own devices. The Red Fox might not have been pleased had he known it.The Prince was not in his apartments. Neither was he in the room beyond, whither I ventured to go, calling his name. I retraced my steps to the hallway, but Dajerak was nowhere in sight and I did not know where to find the Red Fox. Clearly, if I wanted to see the Prince, I would have to search for him myself. Perhaps the butler had gone to tell him? I returned to the reception room and sat down in his highback chair to wait. Then I heard a voice singing a little French love song. It came faintly to my ears as if the singer were in a room beyond the Prince's dressing chamber. Entering that apartment I heard the singing more distinctly and made sure that it was either the Prince or his sister—their voices as you know were much alike."Your Highness," I called, using the title which applied to both, but the singing went on uninterrupted.Surely the youth was playing with me, and, for aught I knew, might even now be laughing behind a curtain. I was positive that the voice came more particularly from behind a portière in front of me. Possibly it screened a door. I pulled it aside and came upon nothing but the panelled woodwork which formed the walls. The singer in the room beyond seemed now to be at my very elbow. I was not long in determining the cause—the centre panel of the wall was on a hinge; the automatic lock had failed to catch, and the perfectly fitting secret door was partly ajar.I stood on the borderland of a great discovery, hesitating to continue my search. What right had I, a foreigner, to inquire into the secrets of these Bharbazonians? With Byron, I, too, "loathed that low vice, curiosity." Trouble walks hand in hand with those unfortunates who have not acquired the art of minding their own business. Besides, I owed something to the clear-eyed girl by whose favour I had been received as a friend within the castle. At the remembrance of her trust in me I formed my resolution. Dropping the curtain I retired to the outer room and again seated myself in the Prince's chair to wait until he found me.Can you go back to the time when you were a child playing the game of hide and seek with other children of your age? Do you recall how difficult it was for you to refrain from "peeping" through your little fingers when you were "hiding your eyes," being that important individual known as "it?" How you blindly faced the wall, your ears alert to catch the direction of the sound when one of your playmates should shrilly pipe "all out?" So it was with me. With a recurrence of those childish feelings I sat holding the arms of the chair, listening to the voice as it came faintly to my ears. Truly men are but children of a larger growth. I found it difficult to maintain my place. Except for the singer the castle seemed deserted. My desire to know what lay behind that curtain grew and grew.Like the mariners who steer their boat upon the hidden rocks, charmed into carelessness of their danger by a siren voice, I was irresistibly drawn again toward the secret door. It was so tantalizingly near; the singer surely was Solonika. An invisible power unloosed my grip upon the chair, I threw diffidence to the winds, crossed the room with swift strides, pulled the curtain aside, opened the inviting panel and stepped through.But once inside I regretted my rashness and would have given all I possessed to be back in the Prince's chair. The unexpected sight that met my astonished eyes brought me to an abrupt standstill. One swift glance around the room was sufficient to tell me that I had come into Solonika's little boudoir, where the day before I found her engaged in fancy needlework. There were the familiar gobelin tapestries, the pendent chandeliers, the red satin hand-painted chairs. Beside the window was the same easy chair in which she sat while entertaining me, and in front of it on the window sill was the very piece of embroidery upon which she had been working. I recognized it by the centre piece, held tightly as the head of a drum with the little wooden ring beneath.On the couch against the wall in front of the portières lay Solonika's large French hat and red parasol; beside them was the long tailor-made coat she wore in the summer-house. In the centre of the floor was the skirt crumpled in a circular heap just as she had stepped out of it.In front of the dressing table, close to the window, with her back toward me stood Solonika herself!Or was it the Prince?For a moment I was puzzled as to the identity of the figure before the mirror. There were the same black silk stockings and black satin knee breeches which I recognized as belonging to the Prince. Tucked into the trousers was the white shirt with cuffs attached which Solonika wore under her tailor-made coat. Her white collar and smoke-coloured four-in-hand necktie completed the nondescript costume.Although she had only to slip on her black coat and buckle shoes and fasten her sword to her side to be dressed as the Prince, I knew that the person before me was not the Prince but Solonika. For the long red hair, gathered in the familiar psyche knot at the back, was still upon her head, making her look absurdly, but daintily, feminine, like a pretty woman upon the stage who is acting a boy's part without sacrificing her hair. But the Princess I suppose had long since cut off her beautiful locks, and had her luxuriant schoolgirl tresses made into a wig. The short hair of the Prince was all she had left.So this was the secret of Dhalmatia? The General had been right after all. Only one child had been born to the Red Fox, and the old nurse had forfeited her life for telling the truth. This was why the Duke had attempted to exclude Nick and myself from the castle; this was why he appeared so anxious when I tried to examine his son upon the couch in the hallway after the accident, and why he strove to remind her of her sex by his prolonged cry of "My son! my son!" so that, recovering consciousness, she might not betray herself. This was why the Duke hated the General, knowing him to be suspicious.A great pity welled up in my heart for this slip of a girl with the big, brown, loving eyes, who had been compelled to live such a life of deception through the long years of the past; a life in which every act must be studied and every moment filled with fear; a life in which the womanhood, in which I knew she gloried, must be put aside for the mock manhood of the boy.But I would not do anything to render her burden heavier. My only hope was to retreat as silently as possible, so that she might not know she was discovered. And I would keep my own counsel. But even as my mind reverted to the secret panel, I saw Solonika bend forward and gaze deeply into the mirror. Her face became reflected upon the glass and her eyes were wide open with horror. I saw that my presence in her room was known.What must have been her feelings when she saw me? Naturally her first thought must have been that I was a spy sent by General Palmora to do the work which I had done. Her own doors were locked, as I soon found out, and she knew that I had come stealthily in through the panel door. If I should escape by the same means and carry the news of my discovery to my friends, Bharbazonia would be ringing with her shame in the morning. Was this to be the end of her years of work? Perhaps she thought of her father's sorrow at missing the great ambition of his life on the eve of its fulfilment. God knows what terrible pictures rushed before her mind in those few swift seconds. One thing only must have been clear to her. The intruder must not leave the palace. But how was she to stop me? If she came forward I had but to step backward one step to be in the other room, and then my way lay unobstructed to the castle door. Once on the lawn I would be able to escape before her father's servants could run me down.She was quick-witted as she was clever, and she had much at stake. She withdrew her face from the mirror and steadied herself against the dressing-table while she rapidly thought out a plan to get between me and the secret door. She could not see me now, but I knew she was listening to the slightest sound which would indicate that I was retreating."Therese," she called to her maid, who no doubt was in one of the rooms beyond; the control she had over her voice was wonderful. But the maid did not reply. Solonika waited, and spoke aloud as if to herself, but it was for my benefit."Where is the girl? Why doesn't she come and dress me? I suppose I shall have to pick up my own skirt."With her eyes turned toward the skirt, lying between us, she came toward me as if to pick it up; but, as she reached for it, she suddenly straightened up and sprang between me and the panel. There she stood defiantly at bay, guarding the passage like a magnificent young lioness defending her cubs. Her eyes gleamed with hatred as she faced me, and I saw that she held in her hand the long-bladed hunting knife which served as a letter opener upon her dressing-table.I watched her fascinated, temporarily unable to lift hand or foot in my own defence. Her face was working with a passion so terrible that she no longer looked herself, but like some deeply moved insane person wrought up to such a pitch of excitement that murder becomes easy. Her lips were tightly compressed and her eyes blazed with an intensity of feeling.With a half articulate cry of a wild beast she flung herself suddenly upon me, grasping her knife in both hands and raising it high above her head to give more power to her blow, aimed at my heart.Had I not been warned by the expression upon her face when she saw me in the mirror, and been thus partially prepared for her swift attack, I might have died there at her feet.CHAPTER XITHE HIDDEN PASSAGEA crown! what is it?It is to bear the miseries of the people!To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,And sink beneath a load of splendid care!To have your best success ascribed to fortune,And fortune's failures all ascribed to you!It is to sit upon a joyless height,To every blast of changing fate exposed!Too high for hope! Too great for happiness!—Hannah More: Daniel.When Solonika hurled herself upon my breast she found me ready for her. I was not overborne by the shock of the encounter, and my eye never lost track of the knife in its descent. Instinctively I protected my heart with my elbows and caught her wrists with both hands in a grip of iron.She struggled like the mad woman she temporarily was, but her recently dislocated arm robbed her of much of her power and she finally, under the pressure of my fingers, released her hold upon her weapon. The knife fell to the carpet between us. I crushed her against my chest as tightly as I could without hurting her, just as a boxer will run into clinches with his nimble antagonist to keep from getting hurt. The pain in her arm, and the knowledge that she was powerless against my strength in a physical encounter, and weaponless, brought on a quick reaction. Her body relaxed in my arms and she broke into a torrent of tears, more hard to bear than her desperate anger."Solonika," I whispered, "will you listen to me?""No, no, no," she sobbed; "let me go! Let me go.""If I let you go will you promise not to attempt my life again?"Sobs were my only answer."Solonika," I said, "there is no need for all this show of feeling. I am not here to harm you or yours. Your secret is safe with me."Her weeping continued, but I knew that she was listening."If I meant to escape, it is in my power to do so. I need but thrust you aside and leap through the panel. You could not stop me before I reached my friends. To prove to you that I mean you no ill, I will release you and permit you to do as you will with me."I set her upon her feet as I spoke, but I was careful to pick up the knife and put it in my pocket. Dazed, she stood looking at me through her tears."You know; oh, my God, you know!" she cried.There was the same look in her eyes which I noticed when she first detected my presence. But, seeing that I made no move, her old courage returned. She ran to the wall and pressed an electric button that rang a bell somewhere in the castle out of hearing. Then she possessed herself of a silver-mounted revolver which she took from her wardrobe.Although I knew that, never as long as I lived and she reigned upon her throne, could she feel that her secret was safe; that at the least I might be imprisoned for life in the family dungeon, and at the most condemned to death by her angry father, I made no move to stop her. I pinned my faith to the hope that I would be able to convince her, and if necessary, her father, that I would not betray them even to my friends."Stand in the centre of the room," she ordered, and I promptly obeyed. She took up her position against the panel and we faced each other, waiting. My ready compliance with her curt commands aroused her suspicions instead of allaying them as I wished. She thought I must have good reason not to fear her."Your friend Nicholas no doubt is waiting you in the Prince's room?" she flung out. "He too has seen, and you wish to give him time to escape."My object was not to escape, else I might have lied to her."No," I said, "I came alone."She smiled pityingly upon me, but there was no mistaking the look of relief which passed over her face. The secret was still within the keeping of the battlements and there it would stay."You fool; oh, you fool," she said. Her contempt was unbearable."Aye, fool indeed," I rejoined bitterly, "ever to hope that you would see and understand. It is true that my presence here indicates that I have been spying upon your movements. It is true that I suspected you. But have my subsequent actions been those of a spy? When you were powerless in my arms a moment ago, did I try to escape? Don't you see that the show of supremacy you now have over me, I have willingly given you? Does not your better judgment tell you that I am speaking the truth?""I wish I could believe you," she said; "it would make things easier.""Do believe me, Solonika," I pleaded. "Palmora did not send me here. I came alone to see you in the summer-house as I promised, and, not finding you there, I followed you to the castle. In the Prince's room I heard you singing and came here without knowing what I was to see.""I cannot understand you, Dr. Wharton," she said, and I could see that my words were taking effect; "it is not fear of the consequences that makes you say this.""What consequences?" I asked, wishing to learn what she intended doing with me."Of course you know that you can never leave this castle again," she said.I nodded."I do not know what method my father will take to insure your silence. The future is in his hands.""It is likely then that my fate may be similar to that of the old nurse whose neck was broken," I said. She was startled."You know that, too?" she said."Yes, I know.""How do you a stranger in Bharbazonia know this?""General Palmora has always suspected something. He told me.""When father learns of this I fear for your life, sir."I bowed; there was nothing to say."Perhaps you will explain, Dr. Wharton, why you are willing to withhold from your friends that which they would give much to know," she asked."Why should I wish to tell?" I asked her in return. "I have no interest in Bharbazonian politics. Neither have I any friends in this country who would be benefited by my information. But I tell you frankly that, if there were any way by which I could prevent you from continuing this dreadful masquerade, I would gladly make use of it."My answer staggered her. But I wished her to understand me thoroughly."Why?" she gasped."Because I pity you."It was a tense moment for me. If I had read this girl aright she was a womanly woman and her heart had often rebelled against her lot. If I was to convince her of my sincerity, I must show her that I understood; that I knew how much she detested playing the part of a man; that I sympathized with her. Knowing that I felt this interest in her, she must appreciate that I would be the last man in the world to make the performance harder for her to bear.She looked at me in wonder, while her assurance in herself vanished. Her knees became weak and she suddenly sat down. But it seemed as if fate were against me. Just when I needed her undivided attention most, there came a knock upon the door that startled us both. Solonika recovered her composure instantly, remembering the business in hand."Who's there?" she called, watching me for any move to escape. But I made no sign."Your Highness rang,"—it was the voice of Therese, the maid."Tell my father to come here instantly," ordered the Princess. She was determined to carry out her original plan of submitting everything to her father. Therese ran upon her errand, for there was that in Solonika's voice which lent the maid the wings of fear. The Duke would soon be here; there was not much time left me."Your friends will miss you," smiled the Princess."Yes," I returned, although I knew that I was wasting time on the wrong track, "and they know that I came here. They will search for me in the right place.""But with little success," she replied; "Dhalmatia knows how to keep its secrets.""Nicholas will not rest until he has found me," I said."But David will never find his Jonathan. They left you in the roadway. No one saw you enter the castle and no one will see you leave. You mayhap were captured by highwaymen. Bharbazonia is full of them.""You forget Dajerak. He let me in.""He is incorruptible. He will say he never saw you.""But my friends will not rest until they have found me.""We will invite them to search the castle if they become insistent, but they will not find you.""This is idle talk," I said, "beside the purpose. I knew when I placed myself in your power that I ran this risk. If it be necessary to pay such a price, I will pay it. But one of these days I will convince you that I mean it when I say that your secret is safe with me.""You said a while back you pitied me," she suggested, and my heart jumped that she had not forgotten. "Perhaps you will tell me why."The Duke would be here any moment. I had come to my last stand."You have asked for an explanation. I will give it to you," I said. "I pity you because you do not enter into this masquerade of your own free will, nor because you like it, but rather because you love your father and desire to further his ambition. So far, am I not right?""I love my father," she replied, soberly, "he is all I have in the world.""And to that affection you have sacrificed everything in life that makes life worth the living. Where are the girl friends who should be yours? You dare not bring them here for fear of discovery. The young nobles of this country cannot come to see you. Here you live in loneliness, you who were made for better things. You had a taste of happiness when you were away at the English schools, and you know what you are sacrificing. And for what? To gratify an old man's whim.""No, no," she cried, as if she would not hear."Have you stopped to look at the future? To me that will be worse than the past. The time will come when you may no longer be a woman but must ever be a man. Once you have taken up the sceptre the door is shut behind you. You can never marry; you can never have a lover and a husband; you can never have children. All this to gratify an evil ambition."A look of deep agony drove the light of battle from the poor girl's eyes. She followed each word until her pent-up feelings could no longer be restrained."Stop, stop! for God's sake!" she cried, beating upon her breast with her clenched fists. "Don't, don't talk so. I cannot bear it. Haven't I known all this? Oh, haven't I seen it often in the night? Sleep flees from me and these thoughts come and will not let me rest. The years that are past have been unhappy enough, but the years to come will be worse. To be always watchful lest I betray myself! to go on acting—acting—ever acting, never able to be just myself—""Never to love as other women love," I said, gently."Oh, you don't know," she cried, vehemently, "you don't know all the agony I have suffered. I have seen peasant women in the streets of Nischon suckling their dirty babes; I have seen the love in their eyes for the stalwart men at their sides, and I have hated them. Hated them, do you hear? I could have killed them for daring to be happy while I am so miserable—I, a princess of Bharbazonia. They point me out to their little ones and hold them up to see the great lady riding by—they envy me—me!—me! Oh, God, how little they know that I would give everything to change places with the humblest of them."Sob upon sob seemed wrung from her soul by the grief that was deeper than I ever suspected. She was totally unconscious of my presence when I placed my hand upon her head in a gentle caress. She rested against me with a sigh."I have thought about it so much of late. I think my heart is breaking. I try to tell father, but he cannot understand. But you can, you do understand.""Yes," I said, "I do understand. And I know that the worst is still before you.""Oh, no, nothing can be worse," she cried, as if she would ward off a blow."Your father is old. He must some day leave you.""Alone! I shall be alone?" she cried. "I cannot go on alone. I cannot do it, I tell you! When he is gone I shall die also. I shall be old then, and I shall welcome death when he tardily comes."It was awful to hear a young woman with all of life before her talking like this. I permitted her to weep until her tears ceased to flow of their own accord. When she became quieter she looked up in my face, and wonder was written on her countenance."You understand!" was all she said, but there was something like awe in her voice."It was because I understood that I would do all in my power to prevent you sacrificing yourself. It was because I understood that I would not escape, when I could, to give you additional cause for worry. It was because I understood that I will keep your secret forever. Now, do you understand at last?""But, how do you know all these things? You have read my very soul and made me say that which I never dreamed I should say to any one.""It is because—I am your friend," I said.In a voice full of excitement the Red Fox, pounding upon the outer door, demanded admittance. Like the knocking on the door in the play of Macbeth, the interruption brought us back to a realization of the things of the world without. We sprang to our feet and faced each other."Do you believe me, Solonika?" I whispered.Noiselessly she pushed the curtains aside at the head of the couch upon which her large French hat and red parasol were lying. Behind the curtains a door stood open, revealing a pair of stone steps leading down into the darkness."Go, go!" she whispered in turn. I knew how much she was risking in thus giving me my freedom."Good-bye, Solonika," I said, pausing upon the top step.She held out her hand and I pressed it reverently against my lips."Good-bye, my—friend," she said.The curtain fell, shutting off the light, but I did not go down the steps. I waited behind the curtain and heard her open the door to the Red Fox."What is the matter?" he cried, rushing into the room. "Therese said something had happened to you.""Nothing is wrong, father," said she. "I needed you because—I am afraid to be left alone.""Now, daughter, control yourself. You will be in a nervous condition during the coronation if you permit yourself to go to pieces thus. Son of my soul, you will soon reign as King in Bharbazonia, then you will forget these womanly weaknesses!""Yes, I shall be King and forget my womanhood," she replied, listlessly.I had heard enough and crept away. The stone steps were very dark and, for fear of making a noise, I removed my shoes. The Duke must not know. Presently, by feeling my way along the wall at the side, I came noiselessly to the end of the steps and found that I was in a narrow underground passage. Judging from the interminable number of steps, I was deep under the castle foundations. The tunnel led away from the castle, if I was any judge of direction.I followed it slowly, still feeling my way along the wall and watching for pitfalls under my feet. Subterranean passages I knew were always full of dangers. I might even now be in the dungeon with which Solonika threatened me, where my friend would never be able to find me. Not that I doubted her, but she might have sent me here to protect me from her father, and her father from me.The passage kept continually dipping downward as if it were going far under the earth, but it also led me further and further from the castle. Of that I was sure. Its sides were beginning to drip with water, and I put on my shoes after stepping into a puddle. My progress was slow and, although I listened, I heard no sound from the castle. At last my outstretched hand came in contact with a wooden door. Softly I felt for the knob and cautiously turned it. What was I to find at the end of the passage? Was sudden death lurking there? The door was unlocked and yielded to the pressure of my hand. I opened it slowly outward and was greeted with a flood of light.A tall Japanese screen was the first object that met my view. Beside it was a picture of Solonika standing on the tips of her dainty toes in the midst of a Bharbazonian dance. Close to it was another picture of Solonika in the costume of the Prince. There was her easy chair close to the flowers by the windows—I was standing in the summer-house—free!Solonika was trusting me!
CHAPTER IX
THE KISS IN THE KING'S GARDEN
O, that a man might knowThe end of this day's business, ere it come!But it sufficeth that the day will end,And then the end is known.—Shakespeare: Julius Cæsar.
O, that a man might knowThe end of this day's business, ere it come!But it sufficeth that the day will end,And then the end is known.—Shakespeare: Julius Cæsar.
O, that a man might know
O, that a man might know
The end of this day's business, ere it come!
But it sufficeth that the day will end,
And then the end is known.
—Shakespeare: Julius Cæsar.
—Shakespeare: Julius Cæsar.
Nick and the General were not returned when I reached Framkor Castle, but they came puffing in for dinner on schedule time. Where they had been they did not divulge, nor did I question them, feeling that their rapid comings and goings had to do with the politics of Bharbazonia with which I was not concerned.
"Sorry to have run away from you, Dale," said Nick, "but needs must when the Devil drives." He jerked his head in the General's direction.
"Humph," grunted the General.
"What did you do with yourself all day?" asked Nick.
"I have had an enjoyable time. I've been over to Dhalmatia."
"What?" exclaimed the General.
After his warning to me, I suppose the old fellow imagined I would not care to visit the Red Fox. Neither Nick nor I had told him of the result of our first visit. Had he known that, the storm clouds gathering upon his brow would have been twice as dark.
"Yes," I continued, "and I have seen both the Prince and the Princess, General. The Red Fox was not tricking you when he announced the birth of twins."
Then I told the story of my afternoon as rapidly as possible. But the General was not impressed. The aged, as the homely old expression has it, are frequently "sot in their ways" and I suppose the General had hugged this favourite delusion to his breast so long that he could not let it go. When I was through he remarked dryly:
"Then you did not see the Prince and the Princess together, after all?"
"I did not see them standing side by side," I admitted; "but it was practically the same thing."
"I always told you, General," chimed in Nicholas, "that you were wrong. I agree with Dale, and you might as well surrender as gracefully as possible."
But the General refused to surrender.
"'Tis some trick of the Red Fox," he stoutly maintained, and no amount of argument could move him. He met every advance and escaped every tight corner with the same reply. In his mind Ananias was a truth-teller compared with the Duke of Dhalmatia. We finally dropped the subject, and talked of other matters.
"We are going down to Nischon in the morning, Dale," said Nick. "Do you want to go along?"
"Indeed I do," I replied. I was anxious to see the capital of which I had heard so much and more especially the Cathedral in which the Prince was to be crowned.
Accordingly, when the General awakened us before daylight, I dressed with alacrity. The sun was just rising when we passed Solonika's summer-house, but, early as we were, others were abroad ahead of us. Drawn up on the side of the road, as if to permit us to pass, were six horsemen, muffled up to the eyes in long Spanish cloaks, their spirited horses backing, dancing and rearing as we passed. I could not be sure, but I received the impression that they were not riding forward upon the road, but waiting. One of their number recognized the General and saluted him with a familiar wave of the hand. But the General refused to return the salute. We passed swiftly on.
Although their action was military, the horsemen did not strike me as being soldiers; for one thing they were not dressed in uniform. Perhaps they were a party of young nobles out for a lark. They resembled Duke Marbosa's messenger who had inquired about Nicholas's return. But what could the gentry be doing on the road at such an unearthly hour in the morning?
It was a perfect automobiling day, one of those sunshiny mornings when one is glad to be alive. We passed many estates and small villages on the way, and the townsfolk had a smile and a hearty cheer for the General. As we whirled by a roadside tavern a bystander waved his hat in the air and shouted a greeting.
It sounded as if he said "Long live Palmora!" and the crowd joined in the general cheer that followed. But all was not love and good fellowship in this country. We received a rude shock on the outskirts of this very village.
There, beside a small chapel of the Greek Church, standing in the midst of a crowded graveyard, was a charred pyre of wood, from the center of which rose an iron post pointing to the sky. On the top of the post a gilded Greek cross glistened in the sunlight, unharmed by the smoke and flames which had raged below.
Tied to the post, blackened and burnt until the flesh had dropped off in places, exposing the bones beneath, was the naked body of a woman. Although the fire had been out for days, smoke still found its way upward, like a gentle blue vapor, fading quickly away. One or two villagers were leaning against the stone wall that surrounded the graveyard, but they were more interested in the automobile than in the terrible scene behind them.
"Look," I cried, pointing it out to Nick.
He touched Teju Okio on the shoulder and the machine was brought to a standstill as quickly as possible; but we had so far overrun the place that we had to back to bring it opposite. The General talked with the idlers and translated their story to me.
"It is the witch of Utrepect," he said. "The priests burnt her at the stake a week ago for blasphemy. She had considerable influence over the minds of the villagers, and was undermining their faith. The Patriarch at Nischon warned her to keep silent. The church excommunicated her and forbade her to come upon church property. She defied them and last Sunday cursed the priest of the chapel upon the spot where she now is. He seized her, aided by his congregation, raised the pyre and burnt her to death as an example for all men who refuse to listen to the church. No one is permitted to touch her on pain of death. So there she hangs until the dogs devour her."
Could it be possible that such barbarism existed in the name of religion in any European country in this the twentieth century? Had anyone told me this a few hours before, I would have laughed at him. But here was the concrete fact before my horrified eyes.
"Drive on, Okio," I cried, sick of the sight. The Jap obeyed.
"That must have been the witch Princess Solonika spoke of as having prophesied that Raoul would never be king," said Nick, smiling at my show of disgust. Neither he nor the General seemed to think the priest's action at all unusual. Cotton Mather had his following even among the Pilgrim Fathers.
Nischon was a matter of fifty miles from Castle Framkor, but Teju Okio manipulated his levers to such good purpose that, in spite of the stop at Utrepect, we came in sight of the ancient city before half past nine. Nischon in the sunlight was a beautiful city. It burst upon us as we reached the top of a high hill and we could thus look down upon its roof tops.
It lay in a valley on both sides of the river they call the Kneister, the only waterway of importance in Bharbazonia, which flows away to the south and empties into the Black Sea, at Bizzett, by means of a subterranean passage through the mountain wall.
The two hills which formed the valley sloped gently down on both sides to the water edge, leaving no level land anywhere. On the tableland, on top of these hills, we could see the numerous castles of the nobles, thrusting their proud stone turrets above the trees like self-appointed watchdogs of the city.
In all the myriad hives of houses below, one building caught my eye before the rest and I did not need to be told that it was the Cathedral. It was a huge structure, standing alone upon a terraced green square on our side of the river. Four minarets, one on each corner, piercing the sky, first riveted the attention. They bore aloft great gilded Greek crosses that flashed the blinding rays of the reflected sun in our eyes as we moved along the road.
Four great domes made up the main body of the structure, three huddling together in a single row in front and the fourth rearing its huge bulk high above the rest in the rear. Like the crosses, the tops of the domes were gilded and the whole effect was that of a building of gold.
"The Cathedral," Nick informed me, "is one of the oldest buildings in the country. It is similar in architectural design to the mosque of St. Sophia which we saw from the yacht as we passed Constantinople. St. Sophia, considered the oldest Christian church in the world, was converted by the Mohammedans into a mosque in the sixteenth century."
The palace of the King was also a noticeable building. Like the Cathedral it was surrounded by its green terrace gardens which held it aloof from the rest of the houses. It was on the other side of the river close to the bank. In fact a wall of ancient masonry enclosed the grounds and rose sheer from the water on the river side. Turrets were built in this wall at regular intervals, as a protection for the castle itself, which stood alone in the centre of the grounds, built more for warfare than for beauty.
The progress of the General in the machine through the streets of Nischon was like the approach of a conquering hero. Everywhere carters drew respectfully aside to let us pass. Men stood with uncovered heads, and women at the windows held their children up to see the great man. Thirty years had but enhanced the glory of the General's achievements as the conqueror of the Turks at the head of the Bharbazonian army. Old men, who had seen service with him during that campaign, cheered and blessed their leader as he passed; and to these the General kissed his hand and shouted friendly greeting.
"I would give all I possess," whispered Nick, "to have the love and respect of the people as the General has."
"Do not despair," I replied; "one day the opportunity may arrive when you will win their esteem. We are all children of chance."
Green uniformed soldiers guarded the drawbridge which spanned the river and led to the King's palace. They stood at attention as the heavy car rolled over the creaking planks. The iron doors in the castle wall swung back on their rusty hinges, and we passed over a driveway winding between green well-kept lawns until we came to the palace.
A lieutenant of the King's Guard opened the tonneau door and assisted us to alight, and a uniformed courier ushered us into the presence of the King, the mighty hero of the battle at the Turk's Head Inn. Gregory was seated at the council table with another old man who I learned was called Nokolovich, a prominent member of the king's official family and his chief advisor. I suppose in any other country he would have had the title of Prime Minister.
Both greeted General Palmora effusively and were gravely attentive to Nicholas. From their manner toward him it was clear that he was known as a Bharbazonian among them and that he had their respect. I was formally presented to the King, in whose eyes, curious to say, I found favour because I was a countryman of General Grant.
"I take great pleasure even now," said the King, "in reading the history of his battles. His example inspired me in our own wars."
In due time all four plunged into the mysterious business of state which brought them together, conversing in the Bharbazonian dialect and I had ample opportunity to observe the great warrior.
Gregory was indeed a commanding figure. Nature meant him to be a king, for she had given him a stature above his fellows and a lordly mien which even old age could not destroy. And he was very old. His great beard, long and white, fell almost to his waist; his snowy locks were brushed back from his forehead and curled in silvery ringlets upon his broad shoulders. Time had bent him but little, and had not taken from him that penetrating glance which suggested his shrewd brother, the Red Fox of Dhalmatia.
But the King looked like a man who ate and drank too well; in whose veins the red blood ran too full. And Mother Nature it seems had sent him her first warning, if one might judge from the lack of control existing along one side of the body, most plainly visible in the halting way he moved his left arm and leg. His determination to abdicate, and bring his life work to a happy conclusion after thirty years of ruling, showed that he intended to heed the warning and take a well-earned rest. It was just as well, for the hand that adjusted the glasses to his dim-visioned eyes shook with a great trembling; it was clear to my medical mind that he could not withstand a second stroke.
I was glad when Nick's part in the proceedings came to an end, and he suggested that we take a walk in the gardens overlooking the river. But I was not long in Nicholas's company. In the gardens we encountered Princess Teskla, the King's daughter. She came suddenly from the shrubbery at the side of the gravel walk and stood in our pathway smiling, her eyes on Nick.
Seldom have I seen a more handsome young woman, and handsome is the word, for "pretty" or "beautiful" would be too weak to picture her. Like her father she was cast in a generous mould. There was no denying the physical attraction of her voluptuous figure and finely chiselled face, wherein was the suggestion of Spanish beauty due no doubt to her swarthy skin and coal-black hair. Such beauty as this might Juno have possessed to dazzle the eyes of the gods on Mount Olympus.
"Nicholas," she cried as she extended her arms toward him, red roses mantling her cheeks and a smile of happiness parting her full lips.
"Teskla," cried he with equal warmth.
As I watched the friendly greeting it dawned upon me that all Nick's journeys in the automobile during our stay in Bharbazonia had not in the past, and would not in the future, be to meetings of the Order at the Turk's Head tavern.
Has it ever been forced upon you that the old saying is true, "Two is company and three is a crowd?" If you have ever been so unfortunate you will understand why I quietly stepped from the path and slipped into the bushes; and why it was that I continued my walk alone. When next they thought of me, if they remembered me at all, I had disappeared and I do not blame them if they were glad.
For my part I too was well content, for I found a comfortable seat on the low wall overlooking the river. Below me the water rippled over the pebble bottom, reflecting the flat-roofed houses on the further shore. It was pleasantly warm in the sun. A few more weeks, and Solonika, with the Prince and her father, might be walking in these gardens while I—I should be preparing for my journey back to America to resume my prosaic practice of medicine. My vacation in Bharbazonia so far had been pleasantly ideal. Somehow I did not view with joy the idea of leaving Framkor, the summer-house of Dhalmatia and, last of all, Solonika.
From my position on the wall I had a view of two walks in the garden which joined at right angles in front of me, one leading from the palace and the other corning from the depth of the garden. My reverie was interrupted by the sound of footsteps upon the gravel pavement. The King, General Palmora and the Prime Minister were approaching. Looking down the other walk I saw the Princess and Nicholas. Although I could see both parties, they could not see each other for the foliage.
Just as the King and his friends arrived at the junction, and turned to go down the walk toward Nicholas and the girl, Nick bent his head and kissed the Princess upon the mouth. They were totally unaware that they were observed. She gave a little cry and struggled, not too vigorously, I thought, to free herself. The three old men stood as if transfixed, watching the love scene. Nicholas refused to release her, although she playfully boxed his ears, and in return he kissed her again. Then they stood apart, looked at each other and laughed aloud.
"Teskla!" shouted the King.
They jumped as if a bomb had been exploded between them, their happy smiles fading. The Princess acted as if she were about to faint, but she recovered herself. I could see that she was speaking quickly and in a low tone to her companion, and that he was heeding what she said. Then, instead of fronting the King, as I fully expected him to do, Nick slipped away into the shrubbery and disappeared, leaving the woman to face her father alone. Truly Nicholas in America and Nicholas in Bharbazonia were two entirely different fellows.
But there was method in the Princess's madness. That rosy young woman came timidly to her father's side. He was fumbling with his glasses but he did not get them adjusted until Nick was gone. But he held them to his eyes and looked coldly at his daughter. She, too happy to care, saucily returned his angry stare.
The King asked her one question, which, being in the dialect, I could not understand. She continued to face him bravely and spoke two words in reply. It sounded as if she said "Prince Raoul." Whatever her answer, it had a great effect upon the General and the Prime Minister. Those two worthies threw up their hands in astonishment, or remonstrance, but they were silenced by a look from the Princess.
The two words also had a remarkable influence upon the angry father. He dropped his glasses from his eyes and laughed, his former passion forgotten like an April shower. He nodded his old white head, rubbed his hands as if the news pleased him beyond expression, and kissed his daughter, not where Nick had kissed her, but upon the brow. Together they retraced their steps. It was all a mystery to me.
When they were at a distance I quietly slipped from my position on the wall and joined them. But I could not learn what had occurred to please the King so highly.
"Are we to congratulate Nick?" I whispered to the General, who had dropped behind with me.
"Shut up," said he, rudely, and then I saw that he was very angry.
On the palace steps we found Nick waiting for us. The Princess waved her hand to him as if to signal that all was well, and he came fearlessly forward and walked beside her. He met the General's scowl with a smile. The King seemed totally unaware that Nick had been the offender. It was plain that we had to thank a clever woman's quick wit for saving a difficult situation.
But at what terrible cost I was to learn later!
The King was in high spirits during the luncheon, but the General and the Prime Minister were inclined to be moody. Princess Teskla and Nicholas behaved scandalously, I thought, openly "making eyes" at each other across the table. But on the whole the meal went off as smoothly as a marriage bell.
It was not until we were homeward bound in the machine that I was able to get to the bottom of the garden mystery.
"What did the Princess tell the King?" I asked in a whisper, that the General might not start his lecture again. He had given his godson a piece of his mind in the home language for the first ten miles, and it is best to let sleeping dogs lie.
"She is a clever little rogue," whispered Nick, rather proud of the girl's achievement, "she told him it was Prince Raoul."
"But why was he so pleased?"
"He would like to see Teskla married to Raoul."
"So?" I replied, remembering what Solonika had said. "But does the King think Prince Raoul is in the habit of visiting her in the gardens clandestinely?"
"Yes; she has often used that excuse before."
"You are a lucky dog," I said.
But Teskla's little white lie was destined to grow big and bear unexpected fruit. We had not mastered the secret of the King's great joy. A little thing like a kiss, it is said, was the cause for one exodus from a garden; or was it a purloined apple?
CHAPTER X
THE DISCOVERY
Can this be true? an arch observer cries,—Yes, rather moved, I saw it with these eyes.Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;I could not had I seen it with my own.—Cowper: Conversation.
Can this be true? an arch observer cries,—Yes, rather moved, I saw it with these eyes.Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;I could not had I seen it with my own.—Cowper: Conversation.
Can this be true? an arch observer cries,—
Yes, rather moved, I saw it with these eyes.
Sir! I believe it on that ground alone;
I could not had I seen it with my own.
—Cowper: Conversation.
—Cowper: Conversation.
In spite of his recent flirtation with Princess Teskla, being a roomy-hearted youth, Nick could not refrain from casting his eyes in the direction of Solonika's summer-house when we passed Dhalmatia that afternoon about four o'clock. She was seated at her accustomed place by the window, and smiled at us in recognition of our friendly bows.
I looked around for the strange horsemen of the morning, but they were nowhere to be seen. You may believe that I had not forgotten my promise to meet Solonika in her little den. And I flattered myself that she was there waiting for me.
"Stop the car, Nick," I said, "and I will find out when the Prince intends to go on his boar hunt. He will be glad to know that you also accept his invitation."
"Don't be late for dinner, young man," cautioned the General, whose worst fault, perhaps, was his worship of promptness. I promised to be on hand at seven o'clock and stepped into the road. A few yards brought me in sight of the summer-house, but, when I knocked for admittance, no one responded. Solonika's chair was empty and the den deserted. Seeing me pass in the automobile, she had imagined that I would not return and had evidently gone back to the castle.
I hurried along the driveway toward the castle, keeping a sharp lookout for the Princess, but she was not to be seen standing or walking on the lawn. I stopped at the clearing just before you reach the top of the hill, thinking I had missed her among the trees below and knowing that she must soon come in view on her way home, but, although I tarried there long enough to consume two cigarettes, Solonika did not appear. How she escaped me was a mystery, but, since my fancied excuse for the visit had to do with the Prince, I determined to go to the castle directly.
Dajerak, the old butler, greeted me with a smile and bowed me through the door. I dispensed with his willing but slow services, and made my way to the apartments of the Prince without standing on ceremony. Satisfied as to my destination, he went about his business and left me to my own devices. The Red Fox might not have been pleased had he known it.
The Prince was not in his apartments. Neither was he in the room beyond, whither I ventured to go, calling his name. I retraced my steps to the hallway, but Dajerak was nowhere in sight and I did not know where to find the Red Fox. Clearly, if I wanted to see the Prince, I would have to search for him myself. Perhaps the butler had gone to tell him? I returned to the reception room and sat down in his highback chair to wait. Then I heard a voice singing a little French love song. It came faintly to my ears as if the singer were in a room beyond the Prince's dressing chamber. Entering that apartment I heard the singing more distinctly and made sure that it was either the Prince or his sister—their voices as you know were much alike.
"Your Highness," I called, using the title which applied to both, but the singing went on uninterrupted.
Surely the youth was playing with me, and, for aught I knew, might even now be laughing behind a curtain. I was positive that the voice came more particularly from behind a portière in front of me. Possibly it screened a door. I pulled it aside and came upon nothing but the panelled woodwork which formed the walls. The singer in the room beyond seemed now to be at my very elbow. I was not long in determining the cause—the centre panel of the wall was on a hinge; the automatic lock had failed to catch, and the perfectly fitting secret door was partly ajar.
I stood on the borderland of a great discovery, hesitating to continue my search. What right had I, a foreigner, to inquire into the secrets of these Bharbazonians? With Byron, I, too, "loathed that low vice, curiosity." Trouble walks hand in hand with those unfortunates who have not acquired the art of minding their own business. Besides, I owed something to the clear-eyed girl by whose favour I had been received as a friend within the castle. At the remembrance of her trust in me I formed my resolution. Dropping the curtain I retired to the outer room and again seated myself in the Prince's chair to wait until he found me.
Can you go back to the time when you were a child playing the game of hide and seek with other children of your age? Do you recall how difficult it was for you to refrain from "peeping" through your little fingers when you were "hiding your eyes," being that important individual known as "it?" How you blindly faced the wall, your ears alert to catch the direction of the sound when one of your playmates should shrilly pipe "all out?" So it was with me. With a recurrence of those childish feelings I sat holding the arms of the chair, listening to the voice as it came faintly to my ears. Truly men are but children of a larger growth. I found it difficult to maintain my place. Except for the singer the castle seemed deserted. My desire to know what lay behind that curtain grew and grew.
Like the mariners who steer their boat upon the hidden rocks, charmed into carelessness of their danger by a siren voice, I was irresistibly drawn again toward the secret door. It was so tantalizingly near; the singer surely was Solonika. An invisible power unloosed my grip upon the chair, I threw diffidence to the winds, crossed the room with swift strides, pulled the curtain aside, opened the inviting panel and stepped through.
But once inside I regretted my rashness and would have given all I possessed to be back in the Prince's chair. The unexpected sight that met my astonished eyes brought me to an abrupt standstill. One swift glance around the room was sufficient to tell me that I had come into Solonika's little boudoir, where the day before I found her engaged in fancy needlework. There were the familiar gobelin tapestries, the pendent chandeliers, the red satin hand-painted chairs. Beside the window was the same easy chair in which she sat while entertaining me, and in front of it on the window sill was the very piece of embroidery upon which she had been working. I recognized it by the centre piece, held tightly as the head of a drum with the little wooden ring beneath.
On the couch against the wall in front of the portières lay Solonika's large French hat and red parasol; beside them was the long tailor-made coat she wore in the summer-house. In the centre of the floor was the skirt crumpled in a circular heap just as she had stepped out of it.
In front of the dressing table, close to the window, with her back toward me stood Solonika herself!
Or was it the Prince?
For a moment I was puzzled as to the identity of the figure before the mirror. There were the same black silk stockings and black satin knee breeches which I recognized as belonging to the Prince. Tucked into the trousers was the white shirt with cuffs attached which Solonika wore under her tailor-made coat. Her white collar and smoke-coloured four-in-hand necktie completed the nondescript costume.
Although she had only to slip on her black coat and buckle shoes and fasten her sword to her side to be dressed as the Prince, I knew that the person before me was not the Prince but Solonika. For the long red hair, gathered in the familiar psyche knot at the back, was still upon her head, making her look absurdly, but daintily, feminine, like a pretty woman upon the stage who is acting a boy's part without sacrificing her hair. But the Princess I suppose had long since cut off her beautiful locks, and had her luxuriant schoolgirl tresses made into a wig. The short hair of the Prince was all she had left.
So this was the secret of Dhalmatia? The General had been right after all. Only one child had been born to the Red Fox, and the old nurse had forfeited her life for telling the truth. This was why the Duke had attempted to exclude Nick and myself from the castle; this was why he appeared so anxious when I tried to examine his son upon the couch in the hallway after the accident, and why he strove to remind her of her sex by his prolonged cry of "My son! my son!" so that, recovering consciousness, she might not betray herself. This was why the Duke hated the General, knowing him to be suspicious.
A great pity welled up in my heart for this slip of a girl with the big, brown, loving eyes, who had been compelled to live such a life of deception through the long years of the past; a life in which every act must be studied and every moment filled with fear; a life in which the womanhood, in which I knew she gloried, must be put aside for the mock manhood of the boy.
But I would not do anything to render her burden heavier. My only hope was to retreat as silently as possible, so that she might not know she was discovered. And I would keep my own counsel. But even as my mind reverted to the secret panel, I saw Solonika bend forward and gaze deeply into the mirror. Her face became reflected upon the glass and her eyes were wide open with horror. I saw that my presence in her room was known.
What must have been her feelings when she saw me? Naturally her first thought must have been that I was a spy sent by General Palmora to do the work which I had done. Her own doors were locked, as I soon found out, and she knew that I had come stealthily in through the panel door. If I should escape by the same means and carry the news of my discovery to my friends, Bharbazonia would be ringing with her shame in the morning. Was this to be the end of her years of work? Perhaps she thought of her father's sorrow at missing the great ambition of his life on the eve of its fulfilment. God knows what terrible pictures rushed before her mind in those few swift seconds. One thing only must have been clear to her. The intruder must not leave the palace. But how was she to stop me? If she came forward I had but to step backward one step to be in the other room, and then my way lay unobstructed to the castle door. Once on the lawn I would be able to escape before her father's servants could run me down.
She was quick-witted as she was clever, and she had much at stake. She withdrew her face from the mirror and steadied herself against the dressing-table while she rapidly thought out a plan to get between me and the secret door. She could not see me now, but I knew she was listening to the slightest sound which would indicate that I was retreating.
"Therese," she called to her maid, who no doubt was in one of the rooms beyond; the control she had over her voice was wonderful. But the maid did not reply. Solonika waited, and spoke aloud as if to herself, but it was for my benefit.
"Where is the girl? Why doesn't she come and dress me? I suppose I shall have to pick up my own skirt."
With her eyes turned toward the skirt, lying between us, she came toward me as if to pick it up; but, as she reached for it, she suddenly straightened up and sprang between me and the panel. There she stood defiantly at bay, guarding the passage like a magnificent young lioness defending her cubs. Her eyes gleamed with hatred as she faced me, and I saw that she held in her hand the long-bladed hunting knife which served as a letter opener upon her dressing-table.
I watched her fascinated, temporarily unable to lift hand or foot in my own defence. Her face was working with a passion so terrible that she no longer looked herself, but like some deeply moved insane person wrought up to such a pitch of excitement that murder becomes easy. Her lips were tightly compressed and her eyes blazed with an intensity of feeling.
With a half articulate cry of a wild beast she flung herself suddenly upon me, grasping her knife in both hands and raising it high above her head to give more power to her blow, aimed at my heart.
Had I not been warned by the expression upon her face when she saw me in the mirror, and been thus partially prepared for her swift attack, I might have died there at her feet.
CHAPTER XI
THE HIDDEN PASSAGE
A crown! what is it?It is to bear the miseries of the people!To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,And sink beneath a load of splendid care!To have your best success ascribed to fortune,And fortune's failures all ascribed to you!It is to sit upon a joyless height,To every blast of changing fate exposed!Too high for hope! Too great for happiness!—Hannah More: Daniel.
A crown! what is it?It is to bear the miseries of the people!To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,And sink beneath a load of splendid care!To have your best success ascribed to fortune,And fortune's failures all ascribed to you!It is to sit upon a joyless height,To every blast of changing fate exposed!Too high for hope! Too great for happiness!—Hannah More: Daniel.
A crown! what is it?
A crown! what is it?
It is to bear the miseries of the people!
To hear their murmurs, feel their discontents,
And sink beneath a load of splendid care!
To have your best success ascribed to fortune,
And fortune's failures all ascribed to you!
It is to sit upon a joyless height,
To every blast of changing fate exposed!
Too high for hope! Too great for happiness!
—Hannah More: Daniel.
—Hannah More: Daniel.
—Hannah More: Daniel.
When Solonika hurled herself upon my breast she found me ready for her. I was not overborne by the shock of the encounter, and my eye never lost track of the knife in its descent. Instinctively I protected my heart with my elbows and caught her wrists with both hands in a grip of iron.
She struggled like the mad woman she temporarily was, but her recently dislocated arm robbed her of much of her power and she finally, under the pressure of my fingers, released her hold upon her weapon. The knife fell to the carpet between us. I crushed her against my chest as tightly as I could without hurting her, just as a boxer will run into clinches with his nimble antagonist to keep from getting hurt. The pain in her arm, and the knowledge that she was powerless against my strength in a physical encounter, and weaponless, brought on a quick reaction. Her body relaxed in my arms and she broke into a torrent of tears, more hard to bear than her desperate anger.
"Solonika," I whispered, "will you listen to me?"
"No, no, no," she sobbed; "let me go! Let me go."
"If I let you go will you promise not to attempt my life again?"
Sobs were my only answer.
"Solonika," I said, "there is no need for all this show of feeling. I am not here to harm you or yours. Your secret is safe with me."
Her weeping continued, but I knew that she was listening.
"If I meant to escape, it is in my power to do so. I need but thrust you aside and leap through the panel. You could not stop me before I reached my friends. To prove to you that I mean you no ill, I will release you and permit you to do as you will with me."
I set her upon her feet as I spoke, but I was careful to pick up the knife and put it in my pocket. Dazed, she stood looking at me through her tears.
"You know; oh, my God, you know!" she cried.
There was the same look in her eyes which I noticed when she first detected my presence. But, seeing that I made no move, her old courage returned. She ran to the wall and pressed an electric button that rang a bell somewhere in the castle out of hearing. Then she possessed herself of a silver-mounted revolver which she took from her wardrobe.
Although I knew that, never as long as I lived and she reigned upon her throne, could she feel that her secret was safe; that at the least I might be imprisoned for life in the family dungeon, and at the most condemned to death by her angry father, I made no move to stop her. I pinned my faith to the hope that I would be able to convince her, and if necessary, her father, that I would not betray them even to my friends.
"Stand in the centre of the room," she ordered, and I promptly obeyed. She took up her position against the panel and we faced each other, waiting. My ready compliance with her curt commands aroused her suspicions instead of allaying them as I wished. She thought I must have good reason not to fear her.
"Your friend Nicholas no doubt is waiting you in the Prince's room?" she flung out. "He too has seen, and you wish to give him time to escape."
My object was not to escape, else I might have lied to her.
"No," I said, "I came alone."
She smiled pityingly upon me, but there was no mistaking the look of relief which passed over her face. The secret was still within the keeping of the battlements and there it would stay.
"You fool; oh, you fool," she said. Her contempt was unbearable.
"Aye, fool indeed," I rejoined bitterly, "ever to hope that you would see and understand. It is true that my presence here indicates that I have been spying upon your movements. It is true that I suspected you. But have my subsequent actions been those of a spy? When you were powerless in my arms a moment ago, did I try to escape? Don't you see that the show of supremacy you now have over me, I have willingly given you? Does not your better judgment tell you that I am speaking the truth?"
"I wish I could believe you," she said; "it would make things easier."
"Do believe me, Solonika," I pleaded. "Palmora did not send me here. I came alone to see you in the summer-house as I promised, and, not finding you there, I followed you to the castle. In the Prince's room I heard you singing and came here without knowing what I was to see."
"I cannot understand you, Dr. Wharton," she said, and I could see that my words were taking effect; "it is not fear of the consequences that makes you say this."
"What consequences?" I asked, wishing to learn what she intended doing with me.
"Of course you know that you can never leave this castle again," she said.
I nodded.
"I do not know what method my father will take to insure your silence. The future is in his hands."
"It is likely then that my fate may be similar to that of the old nurse whose neck was broken," I said. She was startled.
"You know that, too?" she said.
"Yes, I know."
"How do you a stranger in Bharbazonia know this?"
"General Palmora has always suspected something. He told me."
"When father learns of this I fear for your life, sir."
I bowed; there was nothing to say.
"Perhaps you will explain, Dr. Wharton, why you are willing to withhold from your friends that which they would give much to know," she asked.
"Why should I wish to tell?" I asked her in return. "I have no interest in Bharbazonian politics. Neither have I any friends in this country who would be benefited by my information. But I tell you frankly that, if there were any way by which I could prevent you from continuing this dreadful masquerade, I would gladly make use of it."
My answer staggered her. But I wished her to understand me thoroughly.
"Why?" she gasped.
"Because I pity you."
It was a tense moment for me. If I had read this girl aright she was a womanly woman and her heart had often rebelled against her lot. If I was to convince her of my sincerity, I must show her that I understood; that I knew how much she detested playing the part of a man; that I sympathized with her. Knowing that I felt this interest in her, she must appreciate that I would be the last man in the world to make the performance harder for her to bear.
She looked at me in wonder, while her assurance in herself vanished. Her knees became weak and she suddenly sat down. But it seemed as if fate were against me. Just when I needed her undivided attention most, there came a knock upon the door that startled us both. Solonika recovered her composure instantly, remembering the business in hand.
"Who's there?" she called, watching me for any move to escape. But I made no sign.
"Your Highness rang,"—it was the voice of Therese, the maid.
"Tell my father to come here instantly," ordered the Princess. She was determined to carry out her original plan of submitting everything to her father. Therese ran upon her errand, for there was that in Solonika's voice which lent the maid the wings of fear. The Duke would soon be here; there was not much time left me.
"Your friends will miss you," smiled the Princess.
"Yes," I returned, although I knew that I was wasting time on the wrong track, "and they know that I came here. They will search for me in the right place."
"But with little success," she replied; "Dhalmatia knows how to keep its secrets."
"Nicholas will not rest until he has found me," I said.
"But David will never find his Jonathan. They left you in the roadway. No one saw you enter the castle and no one will see you leave. You mayhap were captured by highwaymen. Bharbazonia is full of them."
"You forget Dajerak. He let me in."
"He is incorruptible. He will say he never saw you."
"But my friends will not rest until they have found me."
"We will invite them to search the castle if they become insistent, but they will not find you."
"This is idle talk," I said, "beside the purpose. I knew when I placed myself in your power that I ran this risk. If it be necessary to pay such a price, I will pay it. But one of these days I will convince you that I mean it when I say that your secret is safe with me."
"You said a while back you pitied me," she suggested, and my heart jumped that she had not forgotten. "Perhaps you will tell me why."
The Duke would be here any moment. I had come to my last stand.
"You have asked for an explanation. I will give it to you," I said. "I pity you because you do not enter into this masquerade of your own free will, nor because you like it, but rather because you love your father and desire to further his ambition. So far, am I not right?"
"I love my father," she replied, soberly, "he is all I have in the world."
"And to that affection you have sacrificed everything in life that makes life worth the living. Where are the girl friends who should be yours? You dare not bring them here for fear of discovery. The young nobles of this country cannot come to see you. Here you live in loneliness, you who were made for better things. You had a taste of happiness when you were away at the English schools, and you know what you are sacrificing. And for what? To gratify an old man's whim."
"No, no," she cried, as if she would not hear.
"Have you stopped to look at the future? To me that will be worse than the past. The time will come when you may no longer be a woman but must ever be a man. Once you have taken up the sceptre the door is shut behind you. You can never marry; you can never have a lover and a husband; you can never have children. All this to gratify an evil ambition."
A look of deep agony drove the light of battle from the poor girl's eyes. She followed each word until her pent-up feelings could no longer be restrained.
"Stop, stop! for God's sake!" she cried, beating upon her breast with her clenched fists. "Don't, don't talk so. I cannot bear it. Haven't I known all this? Oh, haven't I seen it often in the night? Sleep flees from me and these thoughts come and will not let me rest. The years that are past have been unhappy enough, but the years to come will be worse. To be always watchful lest I betray myself! to go on acting—acting—ever acting, never able to be just myself—"
"Never to love as other women love," I said, gently.
"Oh, you don't know," she cried, vehemently, "you don't know all the agony I have suffered. I have seen peasant women in the streets of Nischon suckling their dirty babes; I have seen the love in their eyes for the stalwart men at their sides, and I have hated them. Hated them, do you hear? I could have killed them for daring to be happy while I am so miserable—I, a princess of Bharbazonia. They point me out to their little ones and hold them up to see the great lady riding by—they envy me—me!—me! Oh, God, how little they know that I would give everything to change places with the humblest of them."
Sob upon sob seemed wrung from her soul by the grief that was deeper than I ever suspected. She was totally unconscious of my presence when I placed my hand upon her head in a gentle caress. She rested against me with a sigh.
"I have thought about it so much of late. I think my heart is breaking. I try to tell father, but he cannot understand. But you can, you do understand."
"Yes," I said, "I do understand. And I know that the worst is still before you."
"Oh, no, nothing can be worse," she cried, as if she would ward off a blow.
"Your father is old. He must some day leave you."
"Alone! I shall be alone?" she cried. "I cannot go on alone. I cannot do it, I tell you! When he is gone I shall die also. I shall be old then, and I shall welcome death when he tardily comes."
It was awful to hear a young woman with all of life before her talking like this. I permitted her to weep until her tears ceased to flow of their own accord. When she became quieter she looked up in my face, and wonder was written on her countenance.
"You understand!" was all she said, but there was something like awe in her voice.
"It was because I understood that I would do all in my power to prevent you sacrificing yourself. It was because I understood that I would not escape, when I could, to give you additional cause for worry. It was because I understood that I will keep your secret forever. Now, do you understand at last?"
"But, how do you know all these things? You have read my very soul and made me say that which I never dreamed I should say to any one."
"It is because—I am your friend," I said.
In a voice full of excitement the Red Fox, pounding upon the outer door, demanded admittance. Like the knocking on the door in the play of Macbeth, the interruption brought us back to a realization of the things of the world without. We sprang to our feet and faced each other.
"Do you believe me, Solonika?" I whispered.
Noiselessly she pushed the curtains aside at the head of the couch upon which her large French hat and red parasol were lying. Behind the curtains a door stood open, revealing a pair of stone steps leading down into the darkness.
"Go, go!" she whispered in turn. I knew how much she was risking in thus giving me my freedom.
"Good-bye, Solonika," I said, pausing upon the top step.
She held out her hand and I pressed it reverently against my lips.
"Good-bye, my—friend," she said.
The curtain fell, shutting off the light, but I did not go down the steps. I waited behind the curtain and heard her open the door to the Red Fox.
"What is the matter?" he cried, rushing into the room. "Therese said something had happened to you."
"Nothing is wrong, father," said she. "I needed you because—I am afraid to be left alone."
"Now, daughter, control yourself. You will be in a nervous condition during the coronation if you permit yourself to go to pieces thus. Son of my soul, you will soon reign as King in Bharbazonia, then you will forget these womanly weaknesses!"
"Yes, I shall be King and forget my womanhood," she replied, listlessly.
I had heard enough and crept away. The stone steps were very dark and, for fear of making a noise, I removed my shoes. The Duke must not know. Presently, by feeling my way along the wall at the side, I came noiselessly to the end of the steps and found that I was in a narrow underground passage. Judging from the interminable number of steps, I was deep under the castle foundations. The tunnel led away from the castle, if I was any judge of direction.
I followed it slowly, still feeling my way along the wall and watching for pitfalls under my feet. Subterranean passages I knew were always full of dangers. I might even now be in the dungeon with which Solonika threatened me, where my friend would never be able to find me. Not that I doubted her, but she might have sent me here to protect me from her father, and her father from me.
The passage kept continually dipping downward as if it were going far under the earth, but it also led me further and further from the castle. Of that I was sure. Its sides were beginning to drip with water, and I put on my shoes after stepping into a puddle. My progress was slow and, although I listened, I heard no sound from the castle. At last my outstretched hand came in contact with a wooden door. Softly I felt for the knob and cautiously turned it. What was I to find at the end of the passage? Was sudden death lurking there? The door was unlocked and yielded to the pressure of my hand. I opened it slowly outward and was greeted with a flood of light.
A tall Japanese screen was the first object that met my view. Beside it was a picture of Solonika standing on the tips of her dainty toes in the midst of a Bharbazonian dance. Close to it was another picture of Solonika in the costume of the Prince. There was her easy chair close to the flowers by the windows—I was standing in the summer-house—free!
Solonika was trusting me!