VI
Knowinghow anxious Lois would be for a fuller understanding of his coming, Ray set off for Frau Helse’s house the moment he had finished breakfast next morning.
Lois had obviously been on tenterhooks till he came. He was hardly ushered into the stiff, sombre drawing-room, when the door flew open and she came hastily in.
“Oh, Ray!”—and he caught her in his arms and kissed her.
“There is nothing wrong at home?—Mother?—Father?—” she asked quickly, her anxiety accepting the unusual warmth of his greeting as somehow appropriate to the circumstances. “Is it only what Mother says,or——”
“Just exactly what Mother says, my child, and quite enough too. Everybody is perfectly well. Our only anxiety is on your account.”
“And you really think there is going to be trouble?”
“Uncle Tony is certain we’re in for a general European war,—in fact for Armageddon foretold of the prophets. And the mere chance of it is more than enough to make us want you home.”
She could still hardly quite take it all in. She stood gazing at him in amazement.
“And you?—you really think it, Ray?”
“Nothing’s impossible in these times, and I’m not going to run any risks where you’re concerned. How soon can you be ready?”
“I’ll finish my packing at once. I started early this morning, though I was not at all sure what it all meant.”
“One moment, Lois,” he said meaningly. “You can trust these people, I suppose?”
“Frau Helse? Oh yes. They’re as nice as can be.”
“Very well then. Pack just your choicest possessions into a small bag that I can carry, and everything else into your trunk. We’ll leave the trunk in Frau Helse’s care and take the other with us.”
“But why not take the trunk also?” she asked in surprise.
“If matters are as I think, from what I’ve seen, they’re mobilising here for all they are worth, and the lighter we travel the better. Our train could hardly get through coming. Going back will be worse. Indeed I’ve already had it hinted to me that our safest way will be to strike right down south into Switzerland.”
“Into Switzerland?”
“Yes, if things develop rapidly, as they probably will, all the traffic here will go to pieces—all in the hands of the military, you know. And you know enough of Germany to know what that means.”
She nodded thoughtfully, and said, “There’s been something going on below-ground for some time past. I was sure of it. They said it was manœuvres, but it looks as if it was a good deal more. I can be all ready in an hour. Will you see Frau Helse?”
“Perhaps I’d better, so that she may see I’m at all events respectable to look at. Then I’ll go to the station and see if the trains are running all right. You’ve told her, I suppose.”
“Yes, I showed her Mother’s letter. But she was decidedly shocked at the idea of my going off alone with any man who wasn’t at least a cousin.”
“Oh—cousin! She’ll be more shocked before she sees the end of it all, maybe.”
So Lois went away and brought in Frau Helse and Luise, and introduced Ray to them. They had been mightily surprised at Fräulein Lois’s news, and Frau Helse—when the two girls had gone off to finish the packing—let it be seen that she was distinctly doubtful as to the perfect propriety of allowing her to go off with this good-lookingyoung Engländer, who was not in any way related to her. However, in the face of Mrs Dare’s letter she could scarcely raise any objection, and Ray got away as soon as he could, promising to be back in an hour.
He had decided to take the friendly Saxon’s advice and make for Switzerland. He reasoned the matter out thus,—Austria and Servia were practically at war. Though no formal declaration had yet been made, the Austrian Legation had left Belgrade. Russia would almost certainly help Servia. Germany would help Austria. France would help Russia. Without doubt Germany would endeavour to strike at France quickly and heavily. She could only do that down south. So all the railway lines leading thither would be taken over by the military, and ordinary travellers—and still more especially foreigners—would meet with less consideration even than usual.
So he enquired for trains for Munich, intending to get from there into Tirol, and so into neutral Switzerland. Since the first clash of arms would undoubtedly come far away to the south on the Servian frontier, it was reasonable to expect that this remote corner of Austria would still be comparatively free and open to traffic.
There was a train at ten o’clock and another at half-past twelve. He decided on the earlier one, paid his bill at the hotel, and drove off to Frau Helse’s to secure his prize.
Lois was waiting for him, all dressed for the journey, and the slightness of her travelling equipment evoked his surprised eulogiums.
As they were making for the station, with just comfortable time to get their tickets, they passed on the sidewalk a man of unforgettable proportions.
There was no possibility of mistaking him, but Ray had no desire for his further acquaintance and permitted no sign of recognition to escape him. The stout one, however, turned ponderously and looked after them, and then said a word or two to a policeman.
Ray had got their tickets, and had despatched a telegram—whichnever reached him—to Uncle Tony, saying they were just starting for home via Munich and Switzerland; and they were waiting impatiently for the doors of the Wartesaal to be opened to let them through to their train, when a couple of police-officers came pushing through the throng to Ray and abruptly requested him to follow them.
He was taken aback, but knew his Germany and its unpleasant little ways too well to make trouble.
“Follow you? Certainly! But why?”
But they were not there to answer questions, only to carry out orders.
“Come!” they gruffly insisted, and Ray gave his arm to Lois and went.
They were put into a carriage and driven away to Police Head-Quarters, and after a long wait were ushered into the presence of a high official, who looked worried and overworked.
“Who and what are you? And what are you doing here?” he asked brusquely.
Ray supplied him with the desired information.
“Your passport?”
“I have none, Herr Head-of-Police,”—he had no idea what his questioner’s standing might be, but knew that in addressing officials in Germany you can hardly aim too high. “I left London at almost a moment’s notice on Saturday morning, to bring this lady home to her mother. I did not know a passport was necessary.”
“We have definite information that you are a spy.”
“From the fat gentleman who insulted me in the train yesterday, I presume,” said Ray, with a smile. “He tried to sit on me and then called me names, and I called him Fat-Pig. He had already annoyed everyone in the carriage, and they all sided against him and told him what they thought of him. I am no more a spy than he is, mein Herr.... Stay—here is my return ticket to London dated, as you see, Saturday. My fiancée has been studying in Leipsic here for the last two years. She lived withFrau Helse, 119 Sebastian Bach Strasse. Have you your mother’s letter with you, Lois?”—and she got it out and handed it to the official.
He read it carefully and seemed to weigh each word and seek between the lines for hidden treason.
“And why is Fräulein Dare leaving so hurriedly?”
“Her mother wished her at home and we judged there might possibly be difficulties for a girl travelling alone.”
“Why?”
“When there are rumours of war in the air, mein Herr, one’s best place is in one’s own country. That was how we looked at it.”
“But the war—if it comes to anything—is far enough from here,” and he eyed Ray keenly, as though to penetrate his whole mind on the matter.
“May it remain so!” said Ray earnestly. “But when a fire starts one never knows for certain how far it will spread.”
“And you were going to Munich,—towards the danger in fact.”
“Yes, we were going by Innsbruck and Tirol into Switzerland and so home. The traffic on the direct lines seems disorganised. The booking-clerk refused me a ticket via Cologne.”
“I shall have to keep you awhile till I have made some further enquiries. If they are satisfactory you will be allowed to proceed. Ifnot——”
“Herr Head-of-Police,” pleaded Lois, in her best German, which was very good indeed, and in her prettiest manner, which was irresistible, “It is too ridiculous. Herr Luard is a student of law in London. He is the nephew of Sir Anthony Luard, who lives next door to us at home, and we are fiancés. That is why he came for me. He is no more a spy than I am. And Frau Helse will tell you all about me. Fräulein Luise and Ludwig were across at our home in London last year.”
He nodded somewhat less officially. “I know Frau Helse, and doubtless it is all as you say, Fräulein. Butwe have to be careful in these days. I trust your detention will not be prolonged.”
He touched a bell and they were ushered into an adjoining room and left alone.
“Looks as if my assistance was not of much use to you, my dear,” laughed Ray. “I wish I’d smashed Fat-Pig’s ugly old head in. It would at all events have put him hors-de-combat for a day or two and would have been a great satisfaction to my feelings as well.”
“Then I should never have seen you at all,” said Lois. “It will be all right, I’m sure. Frau Helse will satisfy him. I’m glad he knows her.”
And an hour later they were released without a word of apology. But it was enough for them to be free, and they made their way back to the station in good enough spirits.
The delay, however, had lost them both the earlier and the later trains, and the time-tables showed that the next one for the south would land them at a place called Schwandorf at four o’clock in the morning, with the remote possibility of reaching Munich six hours later. There was a fast through train a little after midnight, which, barring accidents or delays, would get them there a couple of hours earlier, but after their late experience, and with the chance of running across their fat friend again, and perhaps becoming further victims to his pig-headed venom, Ray thought it best to get out of Leipsic as early as possible, even at cost of a weary night journey in a train that stopped at every station. Every station would at all events be that much between them and Pig-Head.
So they had their mid-day meal in the Station restaurant, and dallied over it as long as possible, and spent the rest of their time in the waiting-room, so that the authorities should have no possible pretext for suspicion.
They were perfectly happy, however, in one another’s company and the new relationship which Ray’s coming had jewelled into accepted family fact. Ray told her all he could think of about home-doings, and was keen to learn the smallest details of her life in Leipsic, and so therewas no lack of talk between them and the time did not seem long.
Streams of people passed through the station, mostly men, and mostly in uniform. Ray saw without seeming to notice, and was confirmed in the view that great and grave events were brewing.
Their train was an hour late in starting, and, by reason of many stoppages and much side-tracking to allow other heavily-laden trains to pass, was more than two hours late in reaching Schwandorf.
It was a deadly wearisome journey,—the carriages packed beyond reason, everyone somewhat on edge with anxiety and excitement, senseless disputations and bickerings, jokes that lacked humour but led to noisy quarrelling, no rest for mind or body. They were glad to turn out into the chill morning air at Schwandorf, only to find the express already gone and none but slow trains till the 1 p.m. express which would, if it kept faith, land them in Munich about four in the afternoon.
They had breakfast and then propped themselves into corners in the waiting-room and endeavoured to make up for the loss of their night’s rest.
The express was not quite so crowded, but even it was frequent captive to the sidings, and as their fellow-travellers regarded them with polite but unmistakable suspicion they deemed it wise to keep silence, and so found the journey very monotonous. And everywhere, from such glimpses of the country and stations as their middle seats afforded them, they got the impression of unusual activities and endless uniforms.
“Is it always like this?” whispered Ray into Lois’s ear one time, and she shook her head.
It was after five o’clock when they at last drew into Munich, and as they stood in the carriage to let other eager travellers descend, Lois plucked Ray warningly by the arm, and he saw, rolling along the platform, the Ponderous One who had already got them into trouble in Leipsic.
“Hang the Fat-Pig!” he murmured. “Is there nogetting away from him? What a Thing to be haunted by!”
They peered out of the window till they saw him roll through the barrier, and only then ventured to descend and make for the restaurant. For to be delivered over to the police as suspects here, where they knew no one, might involve them in endless trouble and delay. The one thing they desired now, above food or even sleep, was to set foot in a country where English folk were not looked upon as suspicious outcasts.
“Can you go on?” asked Ray. “I’m sure you’re dead tired,but——”
“Oh, let us get on,” she replied, with a touch of the all-prevailing anxious strain in her voice. “Anything to get out of this horrid country. They make me feel like a leper.”
There was a train marked to leave at 5.30 which had not yet started, and without waiting to get anything to eat, though their last meal had been early breakfast at Schwandorf, they climbed into a carriage, thankful at all events at thought of leaving their gross bête-noir behind in Munich.
It was close on 11 p.m. when they reached Innsbruck, and Ray led her straight across to the Tirolerhof, engaged two rooms, boldly registered their names as Raglan and Lois Luard, and ordered supper,—anything they had ready, and they fell upon it with a sixteen-hours’ appetite.
“For the time being,” said Ray, with reference to the name he had conferred upon her, when the sharpest edge of their hunger was blunted, “We are brother and sister to the obnoxious outside public. If you don’t want to be a sister to me you shall tell me so in private. It strikes me, my dear, that we may possibly not get home quite as quickly as they will be expecting over there.”
“If you hadn’t come it looks as though I would never have got home at all. Oh, Iamso glad you came, Ray. What does it all mean, do you think?”
“Mighty trouble all round, I fear. They are evidently mobilising here at top pressure. That means an attackon France. And what that may mean to us I can’t quite foresee.... We may have to get home through Italy.... But—Heavens and Earth!—Italy will be into it too. She’s bound to go in with Germany and Austria.... Do you know whatIthink, my child?”
“No, what? Anything to the point?”
“Seems to me we may be bottled up here—that is in Switzerland, if we ever succeed in getting there—for the rest of our lives. What do you say to getting married as soon as we do get there—if ever, Miss—er—Luard,—and so regularising the position?” and he looked whimsically at her.
“We’ll wait and see, as Mr. Asquith says,” she smiled. “If we really do get bottled up it may have to come to that.”
“H’m! And I was hoping you’d jump at the chance!”
“It’s rather sudden, you see, and a bit overwhelming. We’ve only been really engaged since yesterday morning....”
“Oh ho! That so? But you knew all about it. Now didn’t you?”
“A girl can never really know quite all about it, you know, until she is asked. She may know her own side of thematter——”
“As you did.”
“And she may have every confidence in—er—the otherside——”
“As you had.”
“But——”
“But me no buts, my child! I consider my idea an eminently sensible one. You think it over.... And consider all the advantages!—no fuss, no wedding-breakfast, no hideous publicity. Just a quiet wedding and right into the blissfullest honeymoon that ever was. Heavenly!”
“Well, I’ll think it over, and we’ll see how we go on. What time do we start in the morning?”
“There’s a train at 9.45, but it only goes as far as Feldkirch.And there’s a fast train at 1.15 which should land us in Zurich some time after 8.”
“Let us take the 1.15, then we can have a good rest. I’m awfully tired.”
“One-fifteen it is. And you don’t need to get up till ten,—eleven, if you like,” and he escorted her upstairs to her room.
“Do brothers and sisters kiss at your house?” he whispered at the door. “They don’t at ours.”
“Nor at ours,” and she put up her face to be kissed.
Innsbruck was as yet fairly quiet. The garrison had gone and had been replaced by men of the reserve; most of the visitors had taken fright and fled; a few bewildered—or phlegmatic—English and Americans were left, but the empty streets and the anxious and preoccupied looks of the women gave the pleasant little town an unusual and dreary aspect, and our travellers were glad to be en route for a land less likely to be disturbed by alarms and excursions and all the fears of war.