THAT night Von Tressen and Galabin agreed to make a determined attempt to solve the mystery they had found at Rozsnyo.
“There seems no object in delay,” Galabin had argued. “If the place is watched by Zarka’s people, the patrol will continue as long as there is any reason for it. No; our friend the Count is certainly a highly suspicious character, and the sooner one tries to find out something more about him the better. For I cannot pretend that as yet there is anything very tangible to report to Gersdorff.”
So after dark the two friends set out once more, taking this time an indirect route so as to approach Rozsnyo from the depth of the wood, not by the customary path from the valley. Their object was, naturally, to elude the vigilance of the man D’Alquen whom they rather expected to find there, and whom they imagined to be in some way connected with Zarka and his proceedings.
They made their way cautiously through the darkness of the wood till they calculated they were near the castle. With increased wariness they now went forward, careful to give no sign of their approach to any one who might be on the look-out. A half-smothered exclamation from Galabin made his companion start and look round on the alert, Galabin pointed straight in front. Von Tressen could see nothing; he crept to his friend’s side, and so, coming within the same line of vision, saw plainly what the trees before had intercepted. A light.
“If it should be from that mysterious window?” Galabin whispered.
They went forward now quickly and silently, anxious to get a nearer view of the light before it should disappear. Quickly they came to the edge of the wood. Yes; they were in luck. There, in the midst of what was usually a dead, blank wall, was the open window, and from it through the darkness streamed evidence of a lighted room within.
“Quick! Up into the tree!” Galabin urged his companion in a whisper. Von Tressen was already preparing to climb, and was soon hidden in the branches. “At any rate the window has stayed for him this time,” Galabin muttered to himself, as he waited with eyes fixed on the light which showed no sign of disappearing.
Presently a slight rustling above announced that the Lieutenant was descending. “Well?” Galabin asked anxiously, as the other alighted beside him.
Von Tressen shook his head with a disappointed look. “Nothing to be seen,” he answered. “One can look into the window well enough; only a kind of low screen runs before it, which effectually hides everything but the cornice round the walls of the room. But that it is a room, and that some one is in it, I am certain, for once I saw a shadow move along the wall.”
“You are sure there is no chance of seeing who is there?”
“Positively none at all; that is, from the tree.”
“The screen before the window makes it more suspicious than ever,” Galabin observed thoughtfully.
“Assuredly it does. Especially as it seems, so far as one could make out, a fixed affair.”
“Osbert,” Galabin said suddenly, “we are bound to see what is behind. We must get to the bottom of the mystery. And if we cannot see through the window, we must get a sight from above.”
“Is it possible?” the Lieutenant asked doubtfully, as he surveyed the high massive walls looming black in front of them.
“I think so,” Galabin answered. “I took the liberty of reconnoitring the walls from the wood to-day, as you know, and believe I have discovered a place where at least the attempt to scale them may be made. But where is our inquisitive friend, Herr D’Alquen?”
“No sign of him.”
“We must not rely on that. Now let us keep in the shadow thrown by this light, creep across the dip as though he were watching for us, and so make our way round the walls. I took the bearings of the point where our chance seems to lie.”
Accordingly they crossed stealthily to the walls, and then made their way round with the utmost caution till Galabin, who went first, made a sign that the point he had indicated was reached. Here the wall dropped considerably and was grown over with ivy. It seemed a disused, half-ruinous, certainly neglected, part of the building.
“We ought to be able to reach the top from here,” Galabin whispered. “Whether it will be possible to work our way along when we are up there is another question, but in the daylight I could see nothing to forbid it.”
“At any rate we will make a good attempt,” replied Von Tressen, eager for the adventure. “Let me go first.”
“I have brought a long strap with me,” Galabin said, unbuckling it from his waist. “It may give us just the help we want. Take it with you; you are the better climber.”
Winding the stout strap round him, Von Tressen began, without more ado, to work his way up the ivy-grown wall. Noiselessness being imperative, the business was not easy, especially as many of the branches on the line of ascent were not strong enough to bear a man’s weight. However, with some difficulty he reached the top of the wall, and by the aid of the strap Galabin was soon up beside him. Then began a long crawl, not without danger, along the uneven wall, which at that part formed a sort of battlement rising to a considerable height above the roof. Carefully feeling their way as they went, the two were making steady though tedious progress towards their goal when it was checked by a sudden rise in the wall, of such a height and angle that its ascent was almost impossible, certainly most hazardous. Galabin had not failed to notice this, but had scarcely realized what a bar to their attempt it was likely to be.
“We cannot manage this,” Von Tressen said, after standing up and examining the obstacle as well as he could. “It would be sheer madness to attempt it, at any rate until we have failed in every other way. We must let ourselves down to the roof and try our luck there. In any case we should hardly be able to pass the tower.”
Promptly lowering himself till he hung from the wall by his hands, he took hold of the strap and his companion let him slowly down. Galabin’s own descent was naturally less easy; he had to hang at arm’s length and so drop on to Von Tressen’s shoulders, and had not the Lieutenant been an athlete the feat might have had a disastrous ending. However, the descent was accomplished in safety, and now began their progress along the edge of the roof under the parapet. It occurred to them both they had been foolish not to have tried that way from the first, since their advance was easier and they were securely hidden from any one who might be watching from outside.
A few yards on Von Tressen whispered back—
“There is the light! You were right, Horaz.”
They had reached and were passing the tower flanking the wall in which was the mysterious window. The roof rose higher there, but a little way above and beyond them was to be seen a hazy brightness as rising from the skylight of a room below. The climb to the higher roof presented little difficulty, and as the two men reached it each felt a thrill of excitement at the thought that the solution of the mystery was now about to be theirs. What were they going to look down upon? Noiselessly now, with the utmost caution, they crept forwards on hands and knees, nearer to the light, nearer still, checking their impatience with the thought that a slip or the slightest noise might mean failure, and more, might cost them their reputations if not their lives.
Foot by foot they drew themselves towards the lighted roof, till at last they could make out how it was contrived. Above the level rose an iron frame about six inches high and perhaps ten feet square. As they reached the structure they found it crossed and recrossed by stout iron bars bolted to the frame, and beneath there was a skylight of opaque glass. So their curiosity was baffled, for, although a light shone from the room below, it was impossible to distinguish any object in it.
They held a whispered consultation.
“We are not going to be beaten like this,” Von Tressen said. “We must get a look down somehow.”
It was not so easy. The roof window had evidently been constructed to guard not only against admittance either way, but also against observation.
“The only thing to do is to examine it closely,” Galabin whispered. “We may find a peephole.”
Silently they crawled round the edge of the framework examining every pane they could reach. All to no purpose; the painted glass tantalizingly refused to reveal the secret it covered. When they had completed the circuit of the frame Galabin suggested that he, as the lighter man, should venture out on to the cross bars and try for better luck in the centre. This was not an easy task, especially as it had to be effected without noise.
“Take care how you come back,” Von Tressen warned him. “That will be the most difficult part.”
Very slowly Galabin crawled out, snake-wise, upon the bars, gently feeling, as he went, the glass below each interstice. The Lieutenant watched him anxiously, rather chafing at his own inaction. Presently his attention was quickened as he became aware that Galabin was resting longer than usual over a certain square. Then as he anxiously watched, he saw his companion raise his arm and motion him to join him, but from the side running at right angles, no doubt to distribute the strain on the bars. Von Tressen at once began to crawl round and so towards his companion, his eagerness being restrained only by the warning hand which was still uplifted. It did not take long, however, to bring their heads close together, and Von Tressen could see that Galabin’s search had been rewarded.
Almost in the centre of the skylight a pane of glass was defective. It moved slightly in its leaden casing, and one corner had either been left clear through carelessness, or a scrap of the colouring with which it had been covered had by some means been removed. Anyhow there was left practically a peephole through which nearly the whole of the room beneath was clearly visible. Galabin raised his head, and signed to Von Tressen to look down.
This is what he saw.
A fair-sized room, comfortably furnished, the walls surrounded with heavy curtains, the floor covered with a Turkey carpet. At one end the curtains were looped back, showing an alcove in which was a small bed. In the outer wall was also an uncurtained space containing the mysterious window, and before this ran the screen which had prevented their seeing into the room. It was a substantial affair of painted iron, which appeared to be securely fastened to the wall by bars at either end. In the room, at a table on which stood a lamp, sat a man reading. His head was bent over the book, and he seemed to be wearing some curious kind of cap, but from his position it was not possible to see his face. So he sat almost motionless, as the two men by turns observed him, reading steadily with one elbow resting on the table, his head on his hand, while with the other he occasionally turned the leaf.
For a long time they watched him, half fascinated, for, apart from his surroundings, there was a suggestion of strangeness and mystery about the figure. Suddenly he closed the book and pushed it from him, then threw up his hands, stretching back in an attitude of weariness. As he did so Galabin, who was at that moment in possession of the spy-hole, started back in amazement. Von Tressen in wonder looked through, and saw the cause of his action. The man below in throwing up his head disclosed a strange sight. For the face which the watchers had expected to see was covered by a mask, a white mask, bearing some resemblance to a ghastly human face, and fastened on by the curious head-piece which had puzzled them.
The man lay back in his chair with limbs stretched out, and the hideous face upturned for several minutes, during which the two men above watched him in uncomfortable fascination. Presently he sat upright, and turned his head towards the farther end of the room. Although of course there was a hideous absence of expression, yet the action was one of expectancy. The curtains moved, then parted, and a man came into the room, a short, thick-set, determined-looking fellow, in Magyar costume. He moved quickly across the room, carrying a pistol in his hand. Taking from his pocket a small winch he fitted it to a keyhole by the window and turned it. As he did so the mystery of its disappearance was solved, for, from the side an iron shutter moved noiselessly across the window, completely closing the aperture. This was, no doubt, on the outside made to match the stone wall, and so give no hint of an opening.
Having returned the winch to his pocket, the man went to the table and spoke a few words to the masked prisoner, for such he evidently was. Whether the other replied or not it was impossible for the watchers to tell. The jailor then left the room, and the prisoner, turning down the lamp, rose and went towards the alcove where the bed stood. The lamp flickered out, and only the faint flame of a candle remained. Galabin touched his companion, and withdrawing from the grating as silently as they had come, they made their way back along the roof, lowered themselves to the ground, and reached the wood without incident.