Chapter XX: Foiled

For a moment Helene stood irresolute, unable to realise her position. Then the nearness of the fierce Dardanians and the still more terrible doctor occurred to her, and she walked away with tottering steps. Fear drove her on, for even when she had plunged into the wood, she thought she heard the bushes crackling behind her, and she could not feel safe until she came upon Jakob once more. The quiet glade, with the old man still snoring peacefully under his tree, seemed a haven of refuge, and she staggered towards him, her knees knocking together, and collapsed helplessly on the ground. The gasping sobs which she could not repress awoke Jakob, who was much concerned to find her in such a state. She would not tell him what had alarmed her, and as Jakob was firmly under the impression that he had only dozed off for a second or two, he attributed her fright to a snake, and expended much energy in beating about among the tree-roots and last year’s dead leaves with a stick. He found nothing, naturally, and seeing that Helene was quite incapable of going on with her sketch, suggested that they should return to the inn, lest Hannele should scold him for allowing her Highness to sit on the ground. There were unmistakable marks of mould on Helene’s linen skirt, which meant a cross-examination from Hannele, and in desperation she stood up, supporting herself against a tree, while Jakob removed the stains as well as he could with his handkerchief and the water he had carried for her painting.

“There, Highness!” he said at last, looking up with honest pride. “It will dry before we reach home, and Hannele will be none the wiser.”

“Thanks, Jakob,” his mistress answered absently. “Do you know whether the two English gentlemen who were on the terrace this morning are staying another night?”

“Their horses were being saddled when we started, Highness,” replied Jakob, with placid indifference. “There is nothing to see at Drinitza except the river-cave, so why should they stay?”

Helene’s heart sank. For a moment the wild idea of rescuing Cyril immediately had occurred to her. Usk was away, and William with him, but surely those two Englishmen might be depended upon to help another Englishman? Now that hope was gone; and with deeper sinking of heart she remembered that the Chevalier had started on one of his periodical journeys to Vindobona, so that it would be no use to send in to Novigrad. There was the landlord, at any rate, an old soldier, and there were two or three men employed about the inn, and several strong fellows in the village, and there was Jakob, who might be trusted to follow her leading--but was it right, was it even prudent, to oppose these men, practically unarmed, to the Dardanians, each of whom was a kind of walking arsenal? She turned the matter over in her mind as they walked back to the inn, and at last decided to lay it before the landlord, and see what he thought. But disappointment was awaiting her when she arrived, for the landlord had gone into Novigrad for the day.

This last blow was too much for Helene, and she resigned herself meekly into the hands of Hannele, who had brooded over her mistress’s sharp words all the time of her absence, and now had the additional grievance of her evident exhaustion to gratify her. She took peremptory possession of Helene, removed her gown and shoes, fed her with soup, and made her lie down, scolding all the time, and having adjured her to go to sleep, went away to scold Jakob.

Helene had yielded to her ministrations and reproaches because she had no spirit to resist; but the moment the door had closed behind the maid her head started up from the pillow. She could not think properly lying down, and that great guarded house in the forest seemed to be crying out to her to do something. What should she do? what could she do? The memory of that helpless prisoner, who did not even realise that he was in prison, drew her back to the Pelenko mansion as though with cords. If only she had made herself known to him, spoken to him in English, addressed him by his own name, surely recollection would have returned to the dulled brain? And she had remained speechless, not uttering a word, terror and astonishment holding her so fast in their grip that she had made no use whatever of this tremendous opportunity! How could she meet Usk and Mr Hicks, who had dared so much for Cyril’s rescue without result, if she had to confess to them that she had been face to face with him and had not even spoken?

The thought was intolerable, and in a moment she was out of bed and throwing on the pink cotton gown which Hannele had finished mending, and had left prominently on the back of a chair as if to reproach her. Too much engrossed in her quest to think of her own dignity, she crept down the stairs with her shoes in her hand, and once safely past the room in which she could hear Hannele’s voice rating Jakob, put them on, and turned into the path which led up the hill. At the summit she paused, breathless, and put on her gloves. There was absolutely no reason why she should feel so frightened, as if she were doing something dreadful. Why should she not go out for a walk alone if she chose? She was an Englishwoman now, and Usk had often laughed at her because she disliked to go down the street without Hannele or Jakob in attendance. She was simply taking an afternoon walk, and what possible objection could there be to her going round by the Pelenko mansion? She did not even know that she should try to obtain entrance to the grounds--certainly not by that dreadful corner, which the Dardanian who had watched her must know well, if Cyril did not--but it might save time later if she walked round the place and looked carefully to see if there was any other way of getting in. As if to emphasise to herself the perfect propriety and openness of her intentions, she did not take the usual way through the forest, but went straight down to the high road, and walked along it in a westerly direction until she could see the battered chimneys of the house rising above the encircling trees. She shivered as she turned into the rugged lane, miscalled a road, which led up to the gates, and her eyes sought narrowly among the undergrowth on either hand for the brightness and glitter of the Dardanian dress. There seemed to be no one lying in wait just here, however, and she went on to the gates, which had always been fast shut when Usk and she had caught a glimpse of them hitherto. A gasp of astonishment broke from her when she reached them. On this day, of all days, they were open, as if to invite her to enter.

“It is a miracle!” thought Helene reverently; “a sign, perhaps, that the good God will allow me to do something to help the dear Count,” and with a prayer on her lips she passed fearlessly in. The drive which led through the thick shrubbery was as rough and full of ruts as the lane outside--nay, the shrubbery was encroaching upon it, for bushes were springing up among the weeds which concealed the gravel. As she neared the house, however, she heard the pawing of impatient horses, and thought it prudent to creep into the wood. Reaching the end of the drive, and peeping through the branches, she saw to her amazement a carriage, laden with luggage, standing before the door. Several of the Dardanians were at work adjusting the various packages, and others were lounging about in front of the house. Presently Cyril appeared on the steps, and for one moment she thought he had seen her, for his eyes seemed to meet hers, but he turned to send his servant back for something, and, without looking at her, began to wave and twist his hands about in a way that appeared to her woefully aimless and imbecile. Apparently impatient of the delay, he entered the carriage after a moment or two, and drawing up the window nearest her, proceeded to trace figures of some sort listlessly upon the glass with his finger. To Helene, as she watched, it looked as if he had written the word “Not,” but she could not be sure, since she naturally saw it backwards, as if reflected in a mirror. Before he could get any further, Dr Gregorescu came quickly down the steps, and apologising for being late, stepped into the carriage. Helene watched breathlessly to see what would happen next; but just as one of the Dardanians mounted the box, something was flung over her from behind, and she felt herself pulled down among the bushes.

It was no use to struggle, and she could not cry out. She was held down firmly, and the cloak, or whatever the covering might be, was pressed tightly over her face. She had almost lost consciousness when the pressure was relaxed, and she lay helpless and motionless until she felt some one shaking her by the shoulder, and heard a voice speaking in an unknown tongue. She looked up into the sunken eyes of an old woman, who was holding in one hand the rough woollen cloak which had served as a gag. The stranger was blaming her for venturing into such a place, Helene gathered, and warning her that if she had been discovered, her life would have been the forfeit. Realising the old woman’s meaning, she remembered suddenly all that had passed, and springing up, she peered through the bushes again. The carriage and its attendants were gone, and the crushed weeds in the drive showed where it had passed. She turned to run after it, but the old woman caught her by the arm, and intimated by signs that it was travelling so fast she would never catch it. Resorting to signs in her turn, Helene did her best to inquire whether the old woman could take her by a short cut through the forest to the road, that she might see what direction the carriage was taking, but the old woman expressed the most lively fear at the prospect, moderating her gestures, however, when she saw Helene put her hand into her pocket. It was not often that the girl carried a purse, for there was nothing to buy at Drinitza, and she rather liked making Usk pay everything for her when they went into Novigrad, but it was well to have a little loose change at hand ready for going into the village, on account of the beggars. If the beggars were not duly noticed and relieved, they were apt to curse the passer-by, and Helene had a nervous dislike of being cursed. Her purse happened fortunately to be in the pocket of the pink gown, and she emptied the store of small coins it contained into the old woman’s hand, with the result that the owner grinned widely, and made signs indicative of her willingness to start at once.

They crept down the drive again, and once outside the gate, plunged into the forest to the right, avoiding the lane, and very soon found themselves mounting a steep slope. This part of the woods Helene had not explored with Usk, and she was therefore obliged to rely entirely on the old woman, who hobbled along, helping herself up the steepest places by clutching at the bushes, with wonderful agility. On they went, now up and now down, through such mazes of forest that Helene decided she must come back by the road, or she would never be able to find her way home by herself. Moreover, as the first excitement of the chase died down, she became conscious that she had gone through a good deal since first starting out that morning, and that her limbs, shaking with fatigue and agitation, would scarcely carry her. But she struggled on bravely, and at last the old woman stopped on the very brink of what seemed to be a wooded cliff, and pointing straight downwards, said something which Helene took to mean that the road was there.

The declivity was not quite so steep as it looked, but Helene soon found that it was impossible to walk down it. The only plan was to run whenever a clear space appeared, bringing up against a friendly tree when she was out of breath, and then picking her way slowly from one trunk to another. It was natural that she should run faster than the old woman, and therefore it did not surprise her to find herself in front; but when she reached the foot of the cliff, and discovered that her companion had not followed her, and she was all alone, it struck her that she had been rather shabbily treated. She sat down, thankfully enough, upon a fallen tree, keeping in the shade so that her light dress might not attract attention, and with her eyes fixed upon the stretch of road to the left, waited patiently. This was a part of the road that she and Usk had never reached, even in their drives, and she felt sure that she must be a good deal in advance of the carriage, which had to follow the many windings necessary for the maintenance of a comparatively slight gradient. For a time she was so glad to rest that she thought of nothing but the relief to her tired feet, but after a while it occurred to her that the afternoon was wearing away, and that she had a very long distance to walk home. Moreover, the road was lonely. Not a creature had passed while she sat on the log, and there was no sign of a human habitation anywhere. The best plan would certainly be to walk back towards Drinitza, and so meet the mysterious carriage. On that quiet road she would hear it coming a long way off, and be able to hide in the wood until it had passed. Or perhaps it might not pass at all--which was a contingency that had not occurred to her before--but in that case she would know that it had taken the only other direction possible, the road leading to Klotsch, so that her walk would not have been in vain.

Rising from the log, she turned to the left, in the direction, as she had never doubted, of Drinitza, and set out boldly along the road. Before she had gone far, however, it struck her that the sun, now approaching its setting, should have been behind her, instead of which it was in front.

“How stupid I am!” she said wearily, beginning to retrace her steps. “My head is so confused that I was actually going the wrong way. And yet I don’t see how--but it’s no good trying to work it out now. I must simply go on.”

On and on she went, still without recognising any familiar landmark, until she was too tired to look at anything but the long white ribbon of road which seemed to unfold itself endlessly before her. At last the growing dusk made her lift her eyes to the sky again, and there was the sun, now sinking behind the hills, in front of her once more! The truth flashed upon her. The unfamiliar scenery was accounted for. She had been right at first, but at that point the road doubled back upon itself, in order to skirt the base of the cliff she had descended, so that for a little while its direction was actually west instead of east. But at the end of the turn she would have found herself looking eastwards again, whereas now she had been walking away from home with every step she took.

For the moment Helene was overwhelmed. She could never walk back to Drinitza now, she knew, and she was utterly alone, in a district which did not seem to possess a single inhabitant. Tired and cold, and faint with hunger, she sat down by the roadside and cried weakly. Unless another miracle occurred to help her, she must spend the night where she was, and even in the morning Usk would have no means of knowing where to look for her. But again she saw a miracle in what followed close upon the despairing little prayer she sent up. From the forest behind her came the lively sound of ungreased waggon-wheels, faint at first in the distance, but gradually increasing in nearness and excruciating distinctness. A vehicle of some kind was jolting over a rough forest-track, and presently she could hear the ejaculations addressed by the driver to his oxen. So comforting was the knowledge that a fellow-creature was at hand, that she ran forward impulsively as the heads of the oxen appeared, but the driver was far too busy to notice her until he had safely manœuvred his team and the long rough waggon, laden with wood, from the side-track into the main road. Then he seemed suddenly to become aware that he had heard a human voice, and he looked down from his stately height--he was a huge Dardanian--to see a little pale girl, in dusty and draggled European dress, weeping bitterly, and sobbing forth entreaties in two or three languages. It was well for Helene that her giant was better-tempered than giants are generally supposed to be, and kind-hearted as well, for although he could not understand either French, German, or English, and shook his head vigorously when she tried to explain that she wanted to get back to Drinitza, he offered her a seat on the wood in his waggon, and actually lifted her up there when she hesitated. She made no further opposition after that. Where he might be taking her, she had no idea, but presumably it was to his home, and possibly to some place where she might find the means of communicating with Usk.

The oxen tramped on patiently, and the waggon began to jolt again as the road became worse, but Helene dozed spasmodically on her rough couch. It was not until the waggon came to a standstill that she really awoke, to find herself in the one street of a little Dardanian frontier village, the white walls and dark roofs of which were glorious in the after-glow of sunset, and made a kind of theatrical background for the gigantic men and strapping women in red and blue and gold-embroidered white garments who were crowding round to hear of the strange adventure which had happened to Petros. Before Helene was fairly awake, the smallest man in the crowd asked her in broken German for her papers, and it was evident that a bad impression was produced by her confession that she had none. The small man had something to do with the customs, apparently, for she gathered from the cross-examination which followed that he suspected her of smuggling, though it was not clear what she had to smuggle, with the exception of her worn and weary self. Moreover, he fastened upon her statement that her husband was English as his own excuse for not understanding her German, and they argued at cross-purposes for some time, while the listening villagers made remarks that were evidently uncomplimentary in their nature. To Helene’s horror, he succeeded at last in making it plain that she would be detained for the night as a suspicious character in the hut in which the customs business was carried on; and already she saw herself led to prison before the eyes of the crowd of curious villagers, and locked up hungry and tired, and, above all, alone. In despair, she turned to the tallest man in the crowd, who also seemed to hold some position of authority, and fortunately remembering the word used by the Dardanians to designate their ruler, did her best to explain that the Prince was her cousin, and would hold the villagers responsible for their treatment of her. She could not be sure that she was really understood, but the people seemed to be impressed, and the tall man and the small man consulted together. Presently she distinguished a sound sufficiently like the Illyrian word for “telegraph” to assure her that they were talking of telegraphing somewhere for directions, and she seized upon the proposal with almost hysterical joy.

“Oh, let me telegraph to my husband!” she cried to the little man, “and just let me rest somewhere till he comes, and he will pay anything you like.”

Whether the mention of payment stimulated the official wits, or whether the man was afraid of getting into trouble through over-zeal, he appeared to understand and approve of the suggestion. The big man lifted Helene down from the waggon as if she had been a baby, and after she had thanked the driver for his kindness, the scene changed to the post-office, of which the big man was in charge. Here a fresh difficulty occurred, for Helene had no money, and the simplicity of modern dress precluded her from resorting to the time-honoured expedient of offering jewellery in pledge. She had not even a watch with her, and the postmaster became stern and implacable once more. The little man came to the rescue by pointing out that she had a gold ring on her finger, but she pleaded so piteously that she could not give up her wedding-ring, that matters were at a deadlock again. Then the postmaster, apparently prompted by his handsome, slipshod wife, proposed a compromise. He would send the telegram, and wait for the payment until the morning; but Helene and the ring must remain in pawn, so to speak, since she would not be separated from it. She should spend the night in the post-office, which was a lean-to attached to his own house, and could only be entered through the room in which he and his family slept; and if there was no answer to the telegram in the morning, the ring must be given up. There were few things to which Helene would not have agreed at that moment, and she wrote out the telegram, surrounded by the eager and curious circle of villagers, all bristling with weapons. She wrote it in German, as the customs-officer’s help would enable the postmaster to make it less unintelligible in that language than in French or English; and when the whole assembly had looked at it wisely, heard it translated and explained, and discussed the meaning, it was allowed to be sent. When, after a good deal of squabbling between the postmaster and the customs-officer over the spelling of the words, the message had at last been despatched, Helene, who had been upheld by her anxiety so far, staggered forward, and clutching feebly at the office-desk, slipped to the floor. Instantly the postmaster’s wife, who seemed to have been severely repressed hitherto by her husband, took possession of her, and ordered the other villagers out of the room. It was clear she was saying that whoever the girl might be, she was faint and exhausted, and should not be tormented any more by stupid unsympathetic men. Even this good Samaritan could not provide a softer couch than the bench which ran along one end of the room, but she brought a sheepskin as a coverlid and a rolled-up apron for a pillow, and a frugal meal of black bread and milkless tea. She was so obviously sympathetic and compassionate that Helene kissed her impulsively as she covered her up, and the Dardanian woman smiled broadly as she kissed her in return, and patted her shoulder with a friendly hand as she bade her sleep well and not be frightened.

The inhabitants of this primitive village appeared all to retire to rest as soon as darkness came on, so that Helene had enjoyed a long, dreamless sleep when a furious knocking at the outer door aroused the household, although dawn was only just breaking. The postmaster was disinclined to rise, thinking that some impatient neighbour had come early to inquire for a letter, and that the labours of the department would be appreciably increased if such proceedings were to be allowed. But the knocking continued, and a voice shouted something threatening in an unknown tongue, which was emphasised by vigorous kicks at the door, and the postmaster’s wife suddenly shrieked a malediction at him.

“Fool! pig!” she screamed. “Can’t you hear? It is the little white lady’s husband. Let him in this minute.”

The postmaster obeyed, not forgetting to don his beltful of weapons before he opened the door; and it was with a huge revolver in his hand that he confronted the young man who entered with a hasty step, but recoiled abruptly when he met the intent gaze of the rest of the family, peering at him over their sheepskin coverlids.

“Where is my wife?” he demanded, holding out a telegram to the postmaster, then began a hasty apology; but the postmaster saw no need for shyness. Striding to the door of the office, he threw it open, and bowing to Usk, invited him to enter, while the wife and children sat up in bed, their eyes bright with interest. A moment later, when Usk was sitting on the bench beside Helene, holding her in his arms, and alternately kissing and scolding her, while she laughed and cried at once, a murmur of excited admiration drew their attention to the door, where they beheld the whole family gazing at them open-mouthed.

“Oh, shut the door!” cried Helene hysterically. “The whole village will be here in a moment, as they were last night. Oh, Nym, how white you look!”

“Considering that we have been riding all night, you can scarcely expect us to look very blooming. I think you’ve hurried us here on false pretences, Nell. We couldn’t make head or tail of your telegram, but we gathered that you were in dire distress, so Hicks and I, with the landlord and Jakob, mounted and rode to your rescue at once, with William driving the buggy. We had an awful time of it in the dark, but we kept on; and now I find you comfortably asleep, and able to criticise our looks. Do you think that shows proper gratitude, Lady Usk?”

“You mustn’t criticise mine,” laughed Helene unsteadily, as she stood up with difficulty, a forlorn little figure with tumbled hair and dark-ringed eyes. “Oh, it was so dreadful, Nym! They nearly made me give them my wedding-ring to pay for the telegram. But they were very kind afterwards, and it’s all right now.”

“Well, suppose you put yourself to rights a bit. Hicks is seeing after breakfast. Will a pocket-comb be of any service to you? And when you feel quite equal to it--not before, mind, by any means--I should be interested to know what got you into this fix.”

Helene, tugging at her hair with the comb, stopped suddenly, and turned upon him a face full of horror. “Nym, I had forgotten it for the moment, but it is almost as bad as the worst we have imagined. I have seen the dear Count twice, and he didn’t know me. He is--mad.”

“Do you mean that he’s anywhere here?” cried Usk, springing up.

“No; I lost him again. It was in trying to trace him that I came to this place. He is under the care of a dreadful doctor, who has a number of Dardanians to keep guard over him, and he thinks he is Prince Shishman Pelenko, and that people are plotting against his life.”

“Be quick with your hair,” said Usk, “and you can tell Hicks everything at the same time as me. He may think of something that ought to be done at once.”

But when Helene told the story of her doings the day before at the open-air breakfast table, Mr Hicks was as much at a loss as Usk to know what to do next, and sat silent and meditative, even while devouring his food at his usual speed. His experience as a war-correspondent had taught him never to neglect the chance of a good meal, and his skill in foraging had succeeded in providing one even in this unpromising spot. The table, which he had requisitioned from the custom-house, was placed in the open space in front of the post-office, the only flat piece of ground in the whole village, apparently, and the villagers stood round and watched the meal with much interest. When it was over, Usk held an open-air court of justice, and prompted by Helene, paid the postmaster for the telegram, and his wife for the night’s lodging--much to her distress, for she would only accept the money to buy something for her children. Petros the waggoner was less diffident, and received his silver with pride, saying he would give it to his sweetheart to sew on her cap; and the customs-officer was so anxious to press his own claims to a reward that Usk at last yielded, advising him to buy a German dictionary. When this was settled, the horses were brought out again, and the visitors departed, their hosts speeding them on their way with a _feu-de-joie_ of revolver-shots, which was gratifying, if a little alarming. Usk was driving Helene in the buggy, and presently Mr Hicks rode up close beside them.

“Lady Usk,” he said, “there’s a question or two I’d like to have you answer if you don’t mind. You said Count Mortimer was moving his hands in a queer sort of a way when he stood on the doorstep. Can you show me just how he did it?”

“Something like this,” said Helene, imitating the movements as well as she could remember them.

“Is that so?” asked Mr Hicks, and nodded gravely.

“What is it?” asked Helene, alarmed by his tone.

“The deaf-and-dumb alphabet, I guess, and he’s no more lost his mind than you and I have.”

“But he didn’t know me in the least. He could not be in his right mind.”

“That’s just his smartness, you bet. He made out to disarm the suspicions of the folks that have him in charge by pretending not to recognise you.”

“Oh, and I didn’t know the alphabet, and now we have lost him again!” cried Helene. “It’s all my fault. He was trying to tell me something. Oh, if I had only known!” and she burst into tears. “Perhaps we shall never see him again.”

Mr Hicks was thinking deeply. “I guess I’ll ride on ahead,” he said to Usk. “I don’t see but the notion that’s just come to me may be right. We know the carriage didn’t pass along this road, and I’ll go on to Klotsch, and see if it passed there. If not, I’ll get another horse and ride to Novigrad all I’m worth, and have them give me a warrant, or police permit, or whatever they call it, to search the Pelenko house. For if the carriage has not been seen on the road, it seems clear to me that it just waited around in the woods somewhere while Lady Usk was got out of the way, and then went right back to the house. And if the Count is there yet, why----”

“Underground!” cried Helene. “He began to speak of passages, or something of that kind.”

“We’ll see. I’ll ride on, anyway.”

But Mr Hicks’s haste was in vain. Police assistance was obtained, and the Pelenko mansion duly searched, the old servants left in charge showing even the subterranean rooms, which had been constructed in Roumi days as a refuge in case of need. They knew that the foreign doctor, and the mad gentleman who imagined himself to be Prince Shishman, and the Dardanian servants, had all left the day before, but they could not say where they had gone. They had travelled in their own carriage, but no one had seen it on the road. The mystery was as deep as ever.