THE Princess looked magnificent in the fire of anger which succeeded her alarm, as she turned to the old Kolfort for an explanation.
“I presume you will scarcely order your soldiers to shoot me,” she said, facing him grandly, her eyes flashing.
I slipped my sword back into its scabbard, and the General made a peremptory sign to the Captain to withdraw his men.
We waited in silence while the order was given, and the men filed out, followed by the Captain.
“Remain in the ante-room,” said the General.
“You mistake me greatly, General Kolfort, if you think your soldiers will be needed for work like this,” cried the Princess. “Pray what is the explanation of what I saw when I arrived?”
I thought I could best give that, and said:
“General Kolfort had arrested me, and when I refused to give up my sword had ordered these men of his to shoot me.”
“Is this possible?” she cried, her indignation flaming in her face. “And yet of course it is. I have heard within the last few minutes of what was done last night and of this visit of yours, Count Benderoff, and I hurried here, fearing mischief. Thank Heaven, I arrived in time; but I did not dream such an infamous act would ever be attempted.”
“Infamous is a strong word, Princess,” said Kolfort sternly.
“I use it because I can find no stronger,” was the quick, spirited retort. “By what right, and in whose name, do you contemplate such an outrage?”
“The General declared that I was a renegade officer plotting against the reigning Prince, and that I therefore deserved imprisonment in the fortress of Tirnova. The General himself being, of course, so zealous a loyalist, the thought that anyone should so conspire was naturally repugnant to him.”
I threw as much irony into my tone as I could, and ended with an intentionally aggravating and somewhat insolent sneer. I wished to put as ugly a complexion as possible on his conduct.
“The matter is one which you and I had better discuss in private, Princess,” said the old man, who was now fast recovering his habitual self-restraint.
“Why in private?”
“Because I prefer it, Princess.”
“I see no reason. The Count is fully aware of all our matters, is one of my most trusted advisers and friends, and his welfare and safety touch me very closely. The matter can be settled here and now.”
“You are presuming much——”
“I do not understand the word presumption in such a case, and from you, General Kolfort,” cried Christina, proudly, “and I will not hear it.”
“If your Highness has no further need of my services, nor of the influence of my Government in your affairs, you have but to say so,” he said in a tone of calculated menace. But he didn’t frighten my brave and staunch Princess, and she answered him in a tone of queenly dignity.
“If your services can go no higher than the cold-blooded murder of my friends and adherents, I shall be glad for your Government to release you from a position that you fill in a manner so unworthy of Russia and so bitterly hateful to myself.”
He had drawn a blank in the attempt to intimidate her, and was quick to see and wily enough to abandon it.
“Yet I have not been unmindful hitherto of your interests,” he answered.
“Hitherto they do not appear to have clashed with your own plans and private animosities,” she flashed, with a sting that festered at once.
“This is rather a matter of your private feelings than mine,” he said, with a significant glance in my direction.
“I will not affect to misunderstand you,” she answered readily, with mounting colour. “Our interview yesterday makes that unnecessary. That, as I read it, is the real reason at the bottom of this last act of yours. I gave my word then to marry the Duke Sergius, and I would have kept it at all hazards. But I did not mean, and will not suffer, that my marriage with the Duke should be the death-sentence upon Count Benderoff.”
“You ‘would have kept’ your word. Do you mean——?” He paused; and how I hung upon her reply may be imagined.
“I mean that, as the Duke has involved himself in a quarrel, and been seriously wounded for his pains, I cannot well become his wife the day after to-morrow.”
“There must be no delay,” he retorted quickly.
“Delay!” she cried, her eyes flashing again brilliantly. “Do you think if you had murdered my friend here, or if you dared to thrust him into a prison, that I would ever make a marriage that at the best must be hateful to me?”
“This friendship of yours threatens to be exceedingly inconvenient; and if you mean to allow it to interfere with urgent matters of State, we may as well abandon all our plans, or look for some other means of carrying them out.”
“If a policy of murder is your only alternative, I agree with you,” she exclaimed, taking up his challenge instantly. “I will not have the steps of my throne running with blood shed by Russia.”
He bit his lip in chagrin and manifest embarrassment.
He might well be embarrassed. He had fired his two big guns—a threat first to withdraw from her cause and then to throw her over—and had found them both burst at the breech. A long pause followed, in which I watched his face closely. He appeared to come suddenly to a fresh decision, and changed his manner accordingly.
“Well, I am sorry to have distressed you, Princess. What is it you wish?”
“I will not have Count Benderoff, or any of my friends, subjected to interference at the hands of your agents. Their personal freedom and safety are my special charge.”
“The Count is at liberty to leave,” he replied on the instant, in his more customary curt, decisive tone. “And I trust his future actions will not bring him again in conflict with me. He may take this as a warning.”
“I have done nothing in this case, and need no warning,” I said warmly. “If you allege anything against me, I am prepared to take the consequences, and demand to stand my trial.”
“This is no occasion that calls for mock heroics,” he sneered. “In my opinion you should be in Tirnova; but the Princess has thought well to interfere in your behalf, and I bow to her wishes—for the present. That is all.”
“For the second time I owe my safety, and probably my life, to you, Princess,” I said, advancing to her. “I have no words to thank you.”
“If you wish to show your thanks you had better stop that despatch you told me of,” interposed the General, not without a note of concern in his voice.
“There is no need for it if I am to remain at liberty,” I answered, half disposed to smile.
“I am ashamed there should have been this need for my interference, Count,” said the Princess, looking at me and smiling.
“I trust that there may come a chance for me to prove my gratitude,” I replied, scarce daring to meet her eyes; and with that I withdrew.
As I passed through the ante-chamber I was stopped by the Captain, whose men remained there on guard.
“I hope I am to let you pass, Count,” he said most courteously.
“General Kolfort has this moment said I am at liberty to go.”
“You know how strict our discipline is. Will you wait while, as a matter of form, I obtain his confirmation?”
“Most willingly,” I asserted. He went to the General’s room, and in a moment returned smiling and holding out his hand.
“I am delighted. I know of you, of course, and, believe me, I have never passed through a more embarrassing minute in my life than that in his room.” His manner was so unaffectedly frank and friendly that I shook his hand cordially, and he came with me down the stairs and out into the street.
“I heard an account of last night’s proceedings from one who was at Metzler’s house, Count; I hope you do not judge us all by such an instance. I have just heard also what occurred this morning;” and in his tone and manner he contrived to convey a genuine compliment to my skill. “The Duke is well punished.”
“I shall be glad to hear how he progresses,” I said, as my man brought my horse up.
“I hear that you have an excellent shooting gallery at your house, and that you are a remarkable shot.”
“Will you care to come and see it?”
“Immensely, and perhaps to try the foils with you;” and his face lighted as though I were granting him a great favour when I asked him to dine with me. I rode off, thankful indeed that I was still free, speculating whether I could in some way attach this Russian to me; and, what was still more important, wondering what lay behind the sudden change in old Kolfort’s manner, and whether he was concocting some further subtle plan against me.
Before I reached my house I had resolved on an important step, as the result of these later developments. After I had sent to Zoiloff to let him know what had happened, I wrote a fresh despatch to send to London, embodying much of what I had before written, and giving a brief description of my treatment at the General’s hands. I urged at greater length and with more insistence the desirability of steps being taken immediately on the lines I had suggested, declaring that there was necessity for immediate action; that I believed a complete change of front was contemplated by General Kolfort; that the Foreign Office must be prepared instantly with a successor to the reigning Prince—otherwise a coup d’état would be carried out, which I was convinced would result in Russia being left the complete master of the position; and that the one key to the situation would be found in timing the Prince’s abdication with the finding of a successor who would not be Russia’s tool. And I declared strongly in favour of the Princess Christina.
As soon as I had finished it I sent for my servant Markov, who had been away with me the previous night, and explained to him that he was to carry it to Nish, and place it in the hands of the British consul there, and at the same time deliver a letter, which I wrote to Lieutenant Spernow. This note was to tell him to destroy the first despatch.
“When you leave Nish,” I added, explaining the next step, “you will return to the frontier by train, and from there to Sofia you must organize relays of horses at distances of from ten to twelve miles, avoiding the main road where possible, so that at any moment I can make sure of a quick, clear journey from here to the frontier. Spare no money in the effort to do the work well and quickly. You must have it complete in four days at the outside, three if possible. Choose your agents with great care, and give no hint for whom the work is being done. If questions are pressed, you can say it is in connection with a wager between Russian officers. I trust you implicitly, Markov,” I concluded. “And if you serve me well I will give you such a reward as will make you independent for life.”
He assured me earnestly of his attachment to me, and said that, as he came from that part of the country, he knew just the people who would do what was needed. Then he added a characteristically Bulgarian touch: “They know me well in those parts, Count, and they hope that some day I shall settle among them. I am looking forward to being able to buy a small farm that I know of there, and marry.” I took the hint.
“Do this for me well, and I will buy the farm for you.”
“My lord is generosity itself!” cried the fellow, his face radiant with glee, and I knew I could depend upon a man of his kind when his personal feelings and self-interest were running in double harness.
My object was, of course, to prepare the means of flight should that become at any moment imperative; and such a contingency grew more probable the more closely I reflected upon what had passed at my interview with the General. And I explained my views to Zoiloff, who came hurrying to me on the receipt of my letter, and told him what I had done.
The Russian officer, Captain Wolasky, dined with me, and we spent an hour together in the shooting gallery. I did my utmost to create a favourable impression upon him, and appeared to be very successful; for he expressed a warm wish that we might see more of one another, and we parted on particularly friendly terms. I was careful, of course, to avoid any reference to political matters; but he himself let fall enough to show me that his work in Sofia was exceedingly distasteful, and that he had little sympathy with Kolfort’s policy, and none at all with his methods.
“Russia must, of course, dominate the Balkans; that is the law of Nature,” he said once; “but I detest a roundabout way of going to a mark when a straight road could be cut with ease. That’s old Kolfort’s way, however. He’s just like a man grubbing in a cellar for coals, and will insist on having every little bit of rubbish through his fingers and storing and binning it for future use, as if he expected the day to come when rubbish would be worth more than coal, whereas one vigorous use of the shovel would give him all the coal he wants at once.”
I was far from displeased to find him out of conceit with the General, but said nothing.
“What could have been more abominable and disgusting than his treatment of you to-day?” he exclaimed, when my wine had begun to heat him. “It’s that sort of barbarism that brings us Russians into such ill-repute. I know what would have happened. He would have given that order to shoot you without turning a hair and then would have drawn up some bogus report or other about you having made a desperate attack upon his life, and have called upon me to witness it. I suppose he hates you for some reason, and that’s at the bottom of it. There are plenty of black pages in his past, I can tell you.”
“You had better not,” I answered, smiling. I did not wish him to have the after-reflection that he had been talking too freely. If he were inclined to give me his confidence he should not lack opportunities; and I pressed him warmly, therefore, to come and see me frequently.
He came the next day when Zoiloff was with me, and again on the following day, when Spernow had returned, and we encouraged his intimacy in every possible way. Zoiloff, in the meantime, had made guarded inquiries about him, having at first been disposed to distrust him as a possible spy acting in General Kolfort’s interest. He had found out that he was as genuine as he seemed—a man with no family influence to push his interests, of no means of his own, and constantly standing in his own light because of his scruples, and a blunt, rugged way of expressing them.
“A man not to be bought, but to be won,” declared Zoiloff. “And, once won, to be trusted. He may be valuable to us;” and so indeed the event proved.
On the occasion of his fourth visit I noticed that he was reserved and seemed preoccupied, and while we were all going through our practice in the gallery he joined in it with small zest. We three were even more jubilant than usual. We had been pushing forward our preparations with the greatest energy and activity, and Zoiloff had declared to me his belief that in another ten days or a fortnight we might venture to make the coup towards which all our efforts were bent. Men had been sounded in all directions, and fresh adherents had come in in large numbers, and with great enthusiasm.
I myself had not seen the Princess since the memorable interview at the General’s house; but she knew of all that we were doing. The marriage had been rendered impossible for the moment because the Duke’s wound had taken a turn for the worse, and he lay battling almost for life. We had had no hint that our suspicions of a change of front on Kolfort’s part had any foundation; and our hopes ran high therefore that, after all, we should yet carry things through with a dash.
When our fencing was over, I observed that Captain Wolasky hung about as if waiting for Zoiloff and Spernow to go; and I dropped them a hint quietly that they had better do so.
As soon as we were alone, the Captain said:
“I am afraid this may be my last visit, Count.”
“Oh no, I hope not. Why?”
“You will not betray my confidence, I am sure. I have received a hint that my coming here is not acceptable to those in authority—to old Kolfort that means, of course.”
“Believe me, I am genuinely sorry. It cuts short what I hoped would be a pleasant friendship.” I spoke in all sincerity, for I liked him. “But I can understand your position.”
“That is not all,” he added, and then hesitated and paused. I waited anxiously. “Of course I ought not to say anything to you, but you have been so exceedingly friendly. You may have heard that strange developments are on foot?”
“No, I have heard nothing.” I began to take alarm.
“I am, of course, precluded from telling you their nature; but I should ill return your hospitality if I were not to give you a word of warning. You may prepare yourself for a startling change, likely to involve very serious consequences to you personally—if you remain in Sofia;” and his look said more than his words.
“You mean, I am in some danger?”
“Very grave danger, Count, and not you only.”
“I may not ask you whom you mean?”
“No, I am afraid not. But there is one person in whom report says you take a deep interest. I beg your pardon for even referring to such a matter. But the danger is very grave and—well, the frontier is very near, and not yet closed. I can say no more, and, indeed, I am sure I need not.”
“You have acted the part of a true friend, Captain. How long will the frontier be open? May I ask that?”
“Yes, I am expecting orders at any moment to guard a certain line of it, and the cordon will be very securely drawn.”
This was news indeed, and for long after he had left me I sat brooding over it deep in thought. I was right after all, it seemed; and the cunning old Russian spider had woven a fresh web.