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THE KING’S WIDOW
MRS. BAILLIE REYNOLDS


BY MRS. BAILLIE REYNOLDS

THE KING’S WIDOW
THE LONELY STRONGHOLD
A CASTLE TO LET
THE DAUGHTER PAYS
THE COST OF A PROMISE
A DOUBTFUL CHARACTER
A MAKE-SHIFT MARRIAGE
OUT OF THE NIGHT
GIRL FROM NOWHERE
THE NOTORIOUS MISS LISLE


NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY


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COPYRIGHT, 1919,
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA


CHAPTER
XXIII
XXIV
XXV
XXVI
XXVII
XXVIII
XXIX
XXX
XXXI
XXXII
XXXIII
i? J. go, 'ﬂ~¢'m? \‘\M.
CONTENTS
THE EMBASSY SPY . . . . . . . . . .
AUNT AND N EPHEw . . . . . . . . .
AT THE KRON PRINz HOTEL . . . . . . .
MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG
THE FOREST GUARD . .
THEOBALD AND THE Smru: LIFE .
THE SECOND MESSAGE .
VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE .
THE HOUSE ON KYBIEL MOOR . . . .
THE CLOIsTER ISLE . . . . . . . . .
A ROYAL WOOING . . . . . . . .
THE STORM BURsTs . . . . . . .
THBOWN TOGETHER . . . . . . . . .
STRANOEns YET
WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE .
EvADNE ACKNOWLEDGEB A DEBT
BEBUNA AGAIN . . .
WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE?
THE PEDLAR . .
ALOVELE'I'I‘EB . . . . . . .
IN THE DARK
THE ESCAPE
IN LIGHT OF DAY
ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLEB
SUSPENSE . . .
THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR
THE SPY’s PLAN
THE KIDNAPPINO
ON THE FRONTIER .
THEOBALD To THE REsCUE
THE TRIUMPH 0F WOBONZ
THE TRUTH OF IT ALL .
THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY
v
227
237
249
257
264
272
285
292
302
309
317


‘ * THE KING’S WIDOW
CHAPTER I
THE EMBASSY SPY
UT your Excellency is, of course, well acquainted
with the curious details of that story,” said the
man in civilian dress, breaking oii his narration and his
cigar ash at the same moment.
The ambassador moved a triﬂe uncomfortably in his
chair, and seemed relieved when General Helso inter-
vened.
“Prince Glanzingfors,” said that stout and elderly
warrior, bowing stiﬂly towards his chief, “is accredited
to the Court of Kilistria precisely because he is Well
acquainted with all these things. For myself it is, dif-
ferent. Remember—it all took place before the war;
and I was otherwise occupied, both then and since.”
“I may also remind you,” said the Prince ambassador
sourly, “that before the war I was not called upon by
my government to waste my brain upon the obscure
politics of these contemptible little countries. I had
more congenial work then than moulding the destinies
of a handful of peasant mountaineers—a rabble who,
even when one has succeeded in detaching them from
their other alliances, are not worthy to be counted the
friends of great Nordernreich.”
There was a sympathetic silence on the part of his
Q


10 THE KING’S WIDOW
hearers. The subject was a sore one. Since Nor-
dernreich put herself outside the pale of civilisation,
not merely by declaring a war of aggression, but by her
devilish methods of conducting it, there had been a
slump in Nordern embassies. Gl'anzingfors, formerly
accredited to one of the Great Powers, found himself
sent to Kilistria; since only in a few utterly unim-
portant countries was a delegate from the remains of
the once great empire now a persona gram.
Von Reulenz, the young attaché who sat with his
chair a little behind that of his chief, sneered as he
glanced from the window of the room in which they
were conferring down to the platz below, clean and
gay with its green grass, its ﬁne fountain, its line of
tram-cars.
“A mere province,” he said; “and these Kilistrians
so proud of themselves and their tin-pot capital, that
you can hardly open your lips without offending them.”
“Their pride,” said Helso fulsomely, “is now in-
creased by the fact that no less a personage than Prince
Glinzingfors has been sent to them.” The compli-
ment did something to clear the dark brow of the
ambassador.
His little gimlet eyes, in their puffs of ﬂabby-pouched
skin, gazed speculatively before him.
“You spoke of curi0us details, Captain Rosmer. I
should wish you to explain exactly what you mean by
that.”
The man with the neatly-brushed reddish hair—
Captain Rosmer, as they called him—paused a moment
before replying. If he felt the superciliousness of tone
and manner, he did not show his feeling. He was used
to the scorn of those he served.
“It is true,” said he thoughtfully, “that it is now hard
to recall the exact state of things in Mittel Europa
before the war. Your Highness, however, must have


THE EMBASSY SPY 11
been aware of the attempt of ourselves and our Ally
to erect Pannonia into an independent principality?”
The irony in his voice was hardly veiled. The
Nordern embassy was now in Kilistria, and was headed
by so important a personage as Prinz Glinzingfors,
mainly on account of this aﬁair, which his Excellency
thought it grand to pretend to ignore.
“Of course I know that,” he snapped. “I also
know that there was an idea at that time of marrying
one of the sisters of the Kilistrian king to that young
fool who ventured into Pannonia with the amusing idea
of governing it, and got knocked on the head for his
pains. It came to nothing; but you seem to infer that
there was more in it?”
“Certainly there was more than that.”
“Let us have the whole story, by all means.”
Rosmer slightly shifted his slim form in the big
ugly chair, watching between half-closed lids the drift-
ing smoke of his cigar.
“King Boris of Kilistria—I fear I am telling you
stale news, but I must begin at the beginning—has a
half-sister, much younger than himself, in fact, this
same Princess Evadne of whose conduct you have just
been complaining.”
“Oh-o!” said von Reulenz. “So this minx, who
dares to put on airs to our embassy, is actually the girl
who was betrothed to the so-called King of Pannonia,
I forget his name ”
The general answered, his cigar between his teeth.
“Leonhardt of Vrelde. His mother was English.
His father claimed a pure Pannonian ancestry.”
“The Vreldesl” said von Reulenz contemptuously.
“People of no importance.”
“That, sir, was probably the reason why the Central
Powers chose him as their candidate,” said Rosmer
with a slight smile.


12 THE KING’S WIDOW
“And the still-necked young woman was actually
contemplating marriage with a Vrelde ?"
“It went further than that. His Excellency can tell
you."
The ambassador paused in the act of lighting a fresh
cigar, to stare.
“Further than that? What do you mean ?”
“Your Excellency,” said Rosmer with another smile,
“is pleased to feign ignorance in order to test my
knowledge. As you are aware, the marriage had
actually taken place.”
Glanzingfors’ eyes bulged stupidly.
“You have been misinformed. There was no mar-
riage. There could not be. They never met. Leon-
hardt was murdered a bare three weeks after he ﬁrst
set foot in his capital—what do they call the place ?—
Dalmeiral” .
“He was murdered, I suppose, in order to stop the
marriage; but it was just forty-eight hours too late,"
replied Rosmer, unmoved.
The prince turned ponderously, thumped his ﬁst on
the table, and said hoarsely: “Explain! What are
you talking about ?” 5
“Your Excellency ordered me to ascertain all the
facts. You now desire to satisfy yourself that I have
obtained them. Here they are, then. Our far-seeing
government, having for reasons of policy seemed to
encourage the match, thought better of its decision;
and for this reason. If by any wild chance Leonhardt
should succeed in pacifying and unifying Pannonia,
the close alliance with Kilistria would put too much
power into Kilistrian hands in the event of the then
rapidly approaching war. Thus, though we could not
openly object to the marriage, which had our ostensible
approval, we could remove the young man from his
sphere of activity before any harm was done. The


THE EMBASSY SPY 13
confusion in Pannonia made our way fatally easy. To
stop the marriage, we had only to stop a carriage.
When this was done, nobody dreamed that it was done
at the instigation of Nordernreich. All-went without
a hitch. Nevertheless, at the time of his murder,
Prince Leonhardt was already married to the Princess
Evadne.”
Gliinzingfors gave an impatient snort.
“A good story, Rosmer, whoever foisted it upon you.
It isn’t true, however. Leonhardt, as I happen to
know, went straight from his own estate of Vrelde
to ascend the throne of Pannonia”—he paused to re-
mark with a chuckle—“Rather as if a lion-tamer should
decide to go and reside permanently among his pets—
eh? . . ,. Anyhow, he never came to Kilistria, even
for an hour.”
“Your Excellency is right, as always. What you
say is quite true. Nevertheless the marriage did take
place—by proxy. The prince sent his friend and aide-
de-camp, Michael Ferolitz, to represent him; and the
ceremony was performed here in Gailima, in the private
chapel of the Schloss. The Metropolitan will conﬁrm
this, I assure you. It was a perfectly good and legal
marriage, with settlements all complete. Princess
Evadne and her suite had, in fact, actually reached the
frontier on their journey to join her husband, when
the—what is spoken of as the insurrection—took
place; and he was removed.”
“Do you know this to be true, Rosmer i)”
“The facts can quite easily be veriﬁed, if you think
it of importance, as I do.”
‘ “Of importance! How can it be of any impor-
tance?” broke in von Reulenz. “The man died years
ago, and there are no children—couldn’t have been.
What does it matter?”
“It seems to me to supply a reason for that hostility


16 THE KING’S WIDOW
ously, “that her Highness declines to be present at any
court function which our embassy is invited to attend.”
He laughed the angry laugh of a young man whose
vanity is stung. “Let her stay away,” he said.
“Or—er—leave the country altogether?” suggested
Rosmer softly. “Why not marry the masterful young
lady?”
There was an immediate “Ah!” of attention from
the general and von Reulenz. The prince ambassador
sat up suddenly, and looked ﬁrst uneasy, then relieved.
“Good!” said he, “good indeed! We have just
now, unfortunately, several marriageable princes going
begging.”
“There is nevertheless one small diﬁiculty,” went on
Rosmer softly, his eyes still ﬁxed upon his chief.
“And that is ?”
“The princess is not quite certain that she is a
widow."
General Helso stirred restlessly in his chair, and
spoke in a hurry:
“Pretty good, that! Why, I saw Leonhardt’s grave
at Dalmeira! As a matter of fact, it is almost the
only thing left whole in the city since our army went
through. The Pannonians take great care of it. Hav-
ing murdered him, they now feel inclined to worship
him.”
“Oh, they never meant to murder him,” said von
Reulenz impatiently. “I remember being told at the
.time that a band of our men got hold of national cos-
tumes and paid a number of tribesmen to march with
them, ostensibly to present a petition . . . the thing
was easily done; but that it was done, right enough, is
shown, I should suppose, by the years that have elapsed
without the dead man’s turning up.”
“He may be a prisoner,” suggested Rosmer, his eyes


THE EMBASSY SPY 17
never shifting from their study of his chief’s counte-
nance.
His Excellency ﬂung his cigar in among the ﬂowers
in the empty grate. He had brought Nordern habits
to Kilistria with him. “Same kind of tale as the Eng-
lish had about the survival of Kitchener,” he said.
Helso had turned very red, and was fumbling with
the fringe of the table-cloth.
“I was told—er—that a report of the kind got
about,” said he. “I am in a position to tell you for
certain that it was false."
There was a pause, the two younger men scrutinising
the two elder; and most probably in the mind of each
was the feeling that subordinates can do little unless
they have the full confidence of their superiors. Von
Reulenz presently asked:
“Does anybody know what became of Prince Leon-
hardt’s friend and proxy, Michael Ferolitz?”
“He was last heard of in India,” replied the spy.
“He escaped in the tumult, and apparently thought
the climate of Dalmeira would not be healthy for the
dead king’s friends for some time to come. He wrote
to the Oestern ofﬁcials at the palace, later on, to ask
them to send him some things he had left behind.”
“I should like him to be found,” said the ambassador
abruptly.
“I have inquiries on foot in several places,” replied
Rosmer. _
“Understand, all of you,’ went on his Excellency,
“that I am quite of Rosmer’s opinion that it is neces-
sary to detach the Princess Evadne at once from her
brother and from politics; and also that the best way
to do so is to ﬁnd somebody to woo her———”
Von Reulenz ventured to cut in—-“There is the
Prince of Grenzenmark unmarried.”
The general exploded in a coarse laugh.
3


THE EMBASSY SPY 19
H__—___
he. “Can you give us any information about her,
Rosmer?”
“It’s hard to obtain, sir. Since the murder at Dal-
meira she has lived in retirement, in some little cottage
which she occupies on the king’s country estate at
Florémar.”
“Florémarl That is on the shores of the Karneru
See, is it not? A lovely spot, I’m told. Any hotel
there?”
“None anywhere near the royal estate. But there
is a good one at Veros, some miles along the shore.”
“Do you feel as if you needed a change of air?”
asked the attaché innocently of his chief, with a hidden
wink at the general.
Glanzingfors ruminated.
“How soon could we get Theobald here?”
“If he liked our idea, he might he here in a week,”
replied von Reulenz promptly.
“Well, it’s nice weather for the lake-side, and young
people make acquaintance more easily in the country.
I think I will send you, von Reulenz, to engage rooms
for the embassy at the hotel at Veros.”
“A good idea, Excellency, if I may venture the com-
ment,” said Rosmer. He inclined his sleek head, and
with no further leave-taking, turned and left the room
without noise. '
When he was gone, General Helso exhaled deeply,
rose, went to the window, and ﬂung it widely open.
“Faughl” he said, “I suppose spies are necessary
vermin, like leeches and ferrets. But it makes me ill
to breathe the same air with them.”


CHAPTER II
AUNT AND NEPHEW
NE lovely morning in June, when the sun brooded
warmly over the shallow turquoise waters of
the Karneru See, two young people clad in bathing
costume emerged from two of the sandstone caves
upon the stretch of private shore on the south-west
of the beautiful lake.
A handsome boy of ﬁfteen or so, with the limbs of
an athlete, a ﬁne head, and laughing eyes; and a girl—-
or rather a young woman in the full pride of her
beauty, who moved with the ease and buoyancy which
is acquired only by a life of exercise in the open air.
These young people were in a state of some excite-
ment as they ran down the smooth sand, and waded
into the water until it was deep enough for swimming.
Then the boy made a signal by whistling to a stout
elderly lady seated under a big white umbrella with
her needlework; and she in response cried out shrilly:
“One, two, three—go!”
Thereupon, the two struck out, and swam for a
small island which lay at a most convenient distance
from the shore. It had been named Isola Bella by a,
former queen of Kilistria who came from Italy.
Both the heir to the throne and his half-aunt were
evidently putting forth all their strength and skill.
Three parts of the way across she was slightly ahead,
and Prince Raoul beginning to knit his brows. Per-
haps she saw it, for she cried out jeeringlyz—
20


AUNT AND NEPHEW 21
“Not going to beat your old auntie to-day, then?”
The taunt had its due effect, or perhaps Evadne put
a shade less power into her own stroke. It really was
not quite clear, even to her, whether she was beaten
by accident or design; but beaten she was, by a good
generous yard.
As they ran out of the water, she emitted a cry of
mock anger, rushed at the triumphant boy, and shook
him by the shoulders.
“Ra, you’re a demon! I’ll never forgive you!
Sn'atching from me my own championship on my own
lake-side! It’s that ﬁne English tutor of yours who’s
to blame for this! I’ll talk to him!”
The Crown Prince danced for joy and yelled.
“I say, won’t father be bucked? He said I might
have the Halcyon for my own when I could beat you
swimming! Cheer-o! It’s time I did beat you, isn’t
it? Wouldn’t like your own nevvy to be a muff, would
you, eh ?”
He seized her hands, and they capered together over
the sand in a kind of war-dance, sinking down pres-
ently, and rolling over luxuriously in the baking heat.
This was indeed a different Evadne from the silent
lady who was wont to sit at the side of Queen Rosa-
mond in the state carriage when she went to open a
hospital or lay a foundation-stone. Most Kilistrians
would tell you that their princess had never rallied
from the shock of the murder of the king of Pannonia.
Yet now, at play with the boy she loved, she seemed
the incarnation of joy.
“You horrid child,” she grumbled, feeling her goldi-
locks with gleaming arms raised to her head. “You
splashed me, and my hair’s all damp! I must let it
down, this sun will dry it in ﬁve minutes! You run
to the but and fetch something to drink, and some
bikkies.”


22 THE KING’S WIDOW
“I splash you! I like that! It was you who began
splashing, when you found I was licking you! Tried
to put water in my eyes and win by a cheat!” teased
Raoul, his tone of caressing fun taking all the rude-
ness out of the words.
“All right, my friendl Y0u wait! You just wait
until you can’t get anybody to play tennis with you,
then you’ll see whether it pays to check a poor old aunt
with nobody to take her part.”
“Nobody to take her part! That’s good! I jolly
well like that!” gurgled Ra, as he rose and skipped up
the wooden steps to the hut.
Meanwhile, Evadne had unbound her hair, and it
showered about her in the sunshine. Rising to her
feet, she shook the torrent over her, tossed it back
from her eyes, and began to run, her arms outspread,
her breath quickening with the joy of her strength and
health and beauty. In the privacy of that jealously
guarded place, she was as safe as if she had been in her
own boudoir.
The Karneru See, narrow at its northern extremity,
where the Kama rushes in through the wild gorge of
that name, widens out at the southern end, so that its
shape resembles that of a pear. All around the south
east shore, are little “plages” and the slopes are thickly
studded with hotels and boat-houses. But on the
south-west are the wide crown estates of Florémar,
where the cliffs rise majestic from the shore, and the
woodland is ﬂanked behind by the wild expanse of
Kyriel Moor.
The pleasure steamers which ply upon the Lake are
jealously excluded from coming near the royal, or
southwest corner. The princess had no fear of in-
truders; and, when something fell, with a light thud,
in the wood close by which she was dancing along, she
knew it was only a squirrel, leaping startled from a


AUNT AND NEPHEW 23
bough. The rustling which followed the thud was
however a triﬂe prolonged; and she did pause a
moment, lips parted and chest heaving, to peer under
the shadows of the big trees; but nothing stirred, and
she ran back to Raoul, who had brought out bottles of
lemonade and glasses. Seated side by side on the
sand, they ate and drank, laughing, bickering, chaﬁing.
“This is the last of the biscuits. You do get such a
twist on, Eva! I never saw anybody put it away as
you do when you’ve been swimming. Must tell old
Mistitch to replenish the supplies. Funny! I thought
we had a good bit more. Nobody could pinch our
stores, could they?”
“Hardly! No, it’s just the regrettable result of our
united appetites.”
Raoul lay down ﬂat, his elbows under his head.
“Jolly decent it is here,” he remarked with a sigh.
“Why can’t Father let me stay down here all summer,
as he did when I was a child? He says my education
comes ﬁrst. Well, even if it does, old Varley could
be here too.”
“Humphl” said Evadne. “I like your English
tutor well enough, but I’m not sure I want to have him
on hand the whole summer.”
“Poor devil l” muttered Ra, with a smile of naughty
comprehension. “Like all the rest of ’eml”
“If you don’t mind your manners, young man, you’ll
find yourself on the way back to Gailima by the next
tram.”
“I don’ t think,” retorted Ra calmly. The conversa-
tion all along had been in English, which they both
spoke perfectly. Evadne had learned it in compli-
ment to the King of Pannonia, who was half English
both by birth and education.
The princess cuddled down luxuriously in the sand,


24 THE KING’S WIDOW
hair spread all about her in the sunshine; and closed
her eyes.
Ra continued to chatter, but her attention became
intermittent. When next she took note of what he
said, the words she heard were—
“But there couldn’t be such a thing as a seal in the
Karneru See, could there ?”
“A seal? Dear innocent, there must be thousands!
Perhaps you didn’t know there are a pair of Polar
bears nesting on Isola Bella, and the other day, I met
a giraffe in the woods—”
Ra giggled. “Sure it wasn’t a hippopotamus ?"
“Couldn’t have been. It wasn’t a Tuesday.”
The two were, under the auspices of Humphrey
Varley, the English tutor, taking a course of such
British humourists as Lewis Carroll, whose vein made
special appeal to them both.
“It must have been a big black dog, then,” persisted
the boy.
“What do you mean? Do you really think you saw
something swimming? Honestly?"
“Hand on my heart. Just now. It was a long way
off, and you and I were in the water, and I was so keen
on winning that I didn’t take so much notice as I should
otherwise have done. Just a black head, moving fast,
swimming more like a man than a dog, I thought.
Only I knew there couldn’t be a man here.”
“I should hope not!” gasped the princess sitting up
suddenly and beginning to heap sand over her bare
pink toes.
“Bosh!” Ra grinned. “Of course there isn’t. Where
could a man come from? It must have been a dog.
I should incline to the hippopotamus theory if it didn’t
happen to be Saturday.”
“And no thunderstorms lately,” rejoined Evadne
thoughtfully. “Whereabouts was it when you saw it ?”


AUNT AND NEPHEW 25
The boy pointed to the stretch of water between
Florémar and the western edge of the isle upon whose
southern marge they were seated.
“Out there to our right. It was coming this way,
and disappeared on the other side of the island.”
“What, behind us?” She sprang to her feet. “You
don’t really think there could be—a human being—
on our island, Ra?”
“Much more likely a sea-monster. You would make
a darling Andromeda, you know. Shall I tie you to
a tree and swim off and leave you, just to see if the
monster approaches?”
“Ra, be serious a moment, like the dear boy you are,
and run round the island, looking behind all the trees.
Be quick! I—I don’t think I’ll wait! I’ll just swim
back now at once.”
“My respected aunt, think a minute! How could
it be a man? Mistitch sees to that, you know he does.
Besides, there’s dear old Alberta on the beach.”
“I wouldn’t stake my safety on the old darling’s eye-
sight,” laughed Evadne, “but as you say, it does seem
impossible. The bath season at Veros has hardly be-
gun, at least, Rastitch says the hotel is quite empty.
And nobody but a complete stranger—I expect you
made a mistake, after all.”
“I don’t think so. To calm your fears I’ll make
sure, but you must promise to stay here till I get back.
If there is anybody about they are far more likely to
hide than to interfere with you.”
With this, he ran off, taking a little path through the
wood which would bring him out in a very few minutes
upon the opposite shore of Isola Bella. Left alone,
Evadne rose to her feet and stood, her hair gathered
into one arm, looking very like a study for a picture-—
“A Wood Nymph Surprised.”
Nothing stirred, save for the ﬂash of wings in the


26 THE KING’S WIDOW
air, as the boy’s running startled the birds. Across the
water lay the tranquil shore, and the sunshine lit up the
white mushroom of Baroness Alberta’s umbrella.
In all the summers the princess had spent by the
lake-side, never once had an intruder ventured to dis-
turb her privacy. Had a man really been in the water,
at the point where Ra believed he saw him, he must
have started from the private forests of Flore'mar,
which girdled all the water for several miles; and this
seemed out of the question. Yet she felt much as one
might feel upon strong suspicion of there being a con-
cealed burglar in one’s bedroom. As she lifted her
arms, re-coiled her glistening rope of hair, and tied it
once more into place, she knew her heart was beating
heavily.
Meanwhile the boy, like some long wasp in his yel-
low and black striped bathing suit, was ﬂeetly encircling
the islet. Butterﬂies circled in the sunny spaces, a
squirrel chattered and scolded from the boughs of an
ancient hornbeam. He returned through the midst of
the wood, by a path which led to the back of their
tea-hut, as they called it, the place where they prepared
their meals when they spent a day upon the island, as
they frequently did.
This hut was raised upon a plinth of stone, and was
sixteen feet square. Inside it was furnished in bam-
boo, with seats, table and lounges. There was a stove
and a little sink, furnished with a tap, whence water
could be drawn from a spring which welled up beneath
the floor.
There was only one door of entrance, so Ra ran
round the but and up the steps. As he entered he
thought he heard a sound. It was but slight, just a
shuﬁie or movement of some kind, suggesting the hasty
closing of a door. There were two or three cup-
boards, holding crockery, stores, wood for fuel, and


AUNT AND NEPHEW 27
so on. He tried them all, but found nothing. There
was no other way in, and the windows were all secured.
I-Ie realised that he must have heard the scraping of a
bough upon the roof or window-frame. The hut was
quite clearly empty and undisturbed.
“Nothing more terrifying than yourself on this
island, Eva,” said he reassuringly, returning to his com-
panion, who was standing on the brink of the water,
ready to plunge in.
“What you saw was most likely a block of wood,
bobbing up and down on the waves.”
“Quite likely. I should hate to think anybody could
land here, shouldn’t you? As I looked round the hut,
it made me think of that day when I spilt the tea all
over Paul—do you remember? I say, Eva, is it really
true that Father and Uncle Raoul have had a row, and
that the Marvilion people won’t come here this sum-
mer?”
Evadne’s face changed. She did not like to think of
the bad understanding between her brother Boris and
his devoted friend Raoul, Grand Duke of Marvilion.
She knew, or thought she knew, whose hand had
sown the seeds of jealousy and distrust in the easy
mind of Boris of Kilistria. It was Nordernreich to
whose interest it was that furious dissension should
burst out in Mittel Europa, and who seized upon so
good a chance as was presented by the doubtful suc-
cession tO the throne of Lascania.
The romantic marriage of Raoul von Bordemar,
formerly nicknamed “The Swashbuckler,” with Edmée,
Grand Duchess Of Marvilion in her own right, had
been the cause of the greatest delight to his cousin and
friend, Boris, who at the same time married the King
of Lascania.’s only daughter.
The Swashbuckler, having outgrown his reckless
youth, proved an ideal ruler. Under him, Marvilion,


28 THE KING’S WIDOW
smallest and least powerful of the three countries,
forged ahead and prospered exceedingly.
The point was, that the law of succession in Las-
cania excluded the female line. Boris thought that as
he had married the King of Lascania’s only daughter,
one of his sons, if not himself, ought to be king of that
country. The subjects of The Swashbuckler did not
see it. Marvilion lies between Lascania and Kilistria;
and with those two countries joined over her head,
Marvilion must soon be reduced to vassalage. They
determined that Marvilion and Lascania should be
joined, and that their Grand Duke, the adored Swash-
buckler, should rule over both.
Since the Great War, Lascania was quite ready to
accept this arrangement. The Swashbuckler had
joined the cause of the Allies from the ﬁrst against the
Central Powers, and had led Victoriously into the ﬁeld
his own splendidly equipped little army and that of
Lascania.
Boris of Kilistria on the other hand, had remained
neutral until it was quite clear on which side victory
was to be. Then he declared war, too late to be of
service to the Allies, but by no means too late to incur
the spite of Nordernreich. Boris felt that his politics
had been a failure. After the signing of peace be
thought he had no course left but to cultivate the
friendship of Nordernreich, and renew diplomatic
relations at a time when the whole of the civilised
world was turning the cold shoulder to the perjured
nation.
Evadne’s mouth set as she thought of Nordernreich.
Slowly, cunningly, their diplomacy was drawing Boris
into a net. When the little country lay at the mercy
of the big one, was it likely that Nordernreich should
forget that she had an affront to avenge?
For some inner reason which was not easy to deﬁne,


CHAPTER III
AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL
HE hotel at Veros, after its winter closing, was
now thrown open. Whitewashers and painters
had been at work, wood had been varnished, ﬂower-
boxes ﬁlled. The fat red duvets, after being aired in
the sunshine for a week, had been plumped up on all
the snowy beds, little as it seemed that the prevailing
weather conditions made their use probable.
Rastitch, the prosperous owner of the Kron Prinz,
stood out in the white road which ﬂowed past the old
hostelry upon the landward side, with the air of one
expecting guests. He was smoking a pipe, and chat-
ting with a group of waiters, who lounged about the
porch, making the most of the leisure of which there
would be so little in the course of the next three
months. His wife sat knitting beneath the roses which
clustered over the trellis.
“I had been fearing a lean season,’ mine host was
saying, “for the war taxes have come hard upon us all.
But our king seems to have done the right thing, after
all, in letting these Norderners come back into his
favour. Twenty rooms taken, for the space of a
month! In the ambassador’s name! It is good in-
deed! By the way, I must not forget to speak to
Mistitch when I see him, of the matter of the private
passes ”
“Private passesl” echoed his wife.
“The young gentleman, von Reulenz, who came to
,

30


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 31
engage the rooms, said he supposed the king would not
refuse passes, for the members of the embassy to enter
the grounds at Florémar at their pleasure. I tell him
I doubt it much. Myself I do not believe it will be
permitted while the Princess Evadne is at Water Gate.
Since her betrothal to the young Pannonian king and
its sad end, she has liked to lead her life so very
private.”
“You can hardly wonder at that,” sighed his wife
shaking her head as she turned the foot of a huge
stocking.
The group of waiters wanted to know why.
“She has never got over it. Young though she was,
it struck her at the heart,” replied Rastitch sadly.
“I haven’t heard the story,” said a new waiter, just
taken on for the season.
“It was here, she passed,” cried Rastitch, stretching
out his huge hand dramatically, “as she rode beside the
king her brother, on her way to the frontier to join her
betrothed. It was just this time of year, and it seems
to me like yesterday, though it was before the war.
A mere child she seemed, with her laughter and her
dimples. I believe it was the first time she had worn
her hair coiled up, woman fashion.”
“They used to say, in these parts, that her hair
alone was a dowry for a princess,” cut in Madame.
“True—true! Ah, it was another matter I tell you,
upon her return! Only a few days later! This time
she travelled in a closed carriage, and a long black
veil hid all the gold. They stopped here, and ordered
tea upon the terrace—for it was a late season, and the
hotel—as to-day—was quite empty. SO she sat down,
and lifted her veil. Our poor little one! It might
have been the ghost of the gay child that passed, riding
the other way, so few days before.”
“The King of Pannonia was murdered, I believe?”


32 THE KING’S WIDOW
“In the streets of his capital, in broad daylight-—
dragged from his carriage and brutally killed. Ah,
they are a wild lot, these Pannonians! I always said
they were too wild for our little lady to go amongst.”
“The mountain strawberries,” went on Madame,
“were ripe—as now. I tried to tempt her with them.
I always see her as she sat there, I do not believe she
even saw the fruit on her plate. Her eyes were ﬁxed
on something she alone could perceive. Her mouth was
-—well, there, how can I tell you? It made one wish
to weep.”
“Ah, well, they rode back to Florémar, and there
she shut herself up,” the landlord took up the tale.
“Except for the old Schloss in the Orlenthal, away
among the mountains, where she would go from time
to time if there were too large a party at Flore'mar,
she has lived there ever since—not in the palace you .
understand, but in a little house her brother built for
her at the Water Gate.”
“Constant all those years to the memory of a man
she had never seen!” sneered the new waiter.
Rastitch looked at him without resentment—rather
as though the oddness of such constancy struck him for
the ﬁrst time.
“So they say,” he replied ruminatively. “Her
brother has offered her more than one parti I believe.”
“But since the Crown Prince grew older, there is a
great change in her,” cried Madame cheerfully. “Ho!
There could not be much mourning where our Raoul
is! God bless him! I think he loves her better than
his mother, and he will not let her mopel—For the
last two years she has come to Gailima for the winter,
and we were surprised to hear this spring, that she
had returned so early to the Water Gate. I trust she
has not again relapsed into melancholy.”
“I heard a bit of gossip in Gailima,’
' eagerly said


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 33
one of the waiters, “they said the princess was furious
at the renewal of the N ordernreich alliance.”
“In that case,” said the new waiter, who was a Pole,
called Stepan Woronz, “the embassy will not obtain
private passes for the grounds at F lorémar, I gather.”
It was notable that none of the group seemed to
have any idea as to why the N orderners should be dis-
tasteful to the princess. Somebody remarked that
they were a pushing folk, and it would be as hard to
keep them out of Florémar as out of any other place
where they were minded to set foot.
In the silence which followed the sally, there came to
the ear the sound of galloping horses. Far up the
road, towards the distant forests of Florémar, a cloud
of dust rose upon the lazy air.
Rastitch gave a little grunt of pleasure.
“Here they come !”
“They? Who?” chorused the waiters, collecting in
a cluster.
“Those of whom we have just been speaking, the
Crown Prince and his aunt,” was the exultant reply.
“Remember, lads, the incognito is very strict. She is
the Countess of Florémar when she comes here to tea.
She sent a messenger this morning to inquire if the
hotel were still empty; when I replied that it is, I was
informed that, in that case, their highnesses would do
me the honour of riding here to tea, and would return
by water, in the cool of the evening.”
“An agreeable programme,” said the Polish waiter,
and there was a sneer in his voice.
“Stepan, you are in charge of the tea upon the ter-
race,” said his master sharply.
Murmuring a decorous assent, the man turned away,
compliance in every gesture; but he lingered, as did the
others, until from out the rapidly approaching dust-
cloud there emerged two ﬁgures, riding like mad. It


34 THE KING’S WIDOW
seemed clear that the aunt and nephew were once more
indulging in their regrettably frivolous pastime of
racing.
The horses’ hoofs thundered on the good road—
King Boris prided himself upon his roads—and the
horsemanship of the two who came rushing along upon
their beautiful beasts was a thing a connoisseur would
have loved to watch.
It was neck and neck. So exciting was it, and so
absorbed was the landlord in awaiting the ﬁnish, that
he forgot to remark that his staff was standing around
as breathless as himself.
The goal upon which the two giddy young people
had ﬁxed, was the tall sign of the Kron Prinz which
stood one side of the road; and they passed it at a dead
heat, with a simultaneous cry of disappointment.
Reining in their horses deftly, they cantered on a
little way, then turned, revealing two laughing, ﬂushed
faces as they rode slowly back and stopped before
the door.
The waiters melted silently away. Rastitch only
was left, bowing gravely, and going to the head of
the princess’s mare. He knew better than to offer to
dismount her when Ra was present.
The boy, clad in grey ﬂannel, sprang lightly to the
ground, and helped his lady to alight. She wore a
white linen habit and white shady hat, beneath which
her hair was a little turbulent, owing to the speed of
her going.
She greeted both the Rastitches kindly and gaily.
The prince patted the old innkeeper on the back.
“Good old Rastitch, how goes it? What weather
we’re having—eh ?”
“Indeed, sir, we are, it’s a wonder there are not
more pleasure seekers to take advantage of it! But
I”;


AT THE KRON PRINZ HOTEL 35
that is my gain—since I can thus olIer you the solitude
necessary to your pleasure!”
While chattering, he was escorting his guests
through the central passage to the other side of the
hotel, where was a pergola or covered terrace, over-
looking the lake. As he went, he poured forth the
news with which he was bursting—namely, the forth-
coming visit of the Nordern Embassy. Twenty rooms
taken, if you included the servants’ accommodation!
And not only the Embassy! A prince as well! A
Royal prince! No less a personage than Theobald of
Grenzenmark! Was not that distinction?
As he reached this impressive climax they had come
out upon the terrace, where Stepan Woronz was putting
the ﬁnishing touches to a table elegantly prepared, in
the centre of which he had just placed a pyramid of
mountain strawberries and a jug of thick cream.
A waiter may look at a princess, and he was well
situated for observing the change in Evadne’s face.
She had stepped forth from the dim interior, a radiant,
laughing girl. But something—Rastitch’s news—or
the sight of that terrace—had wiped the carelessness
from her face. It was suddenly that of a woman who
remembers and regrets.
Leaving Raoul to exclaim and ask questions, she
moved on slowly to the balustrade, along which ran a
marble bench. Thereon she rested for a while, gazing
down into the water, completely unaware of the keen
gaze bent upon her.
For the moment she was living again through the
desolation of soul which she had experienced when last
she came to the Kron Prinz.
How long ago! The thought which assailed her
this evening was of the swift passage of time. Only
a little longer, and youth would be over—this glow


36 THE KING’S WIDOW
of health and strength that seemed so immortal and
so endless.
She, who had stood upon the steps of a throne, she
the wife of Leonhardt of Pannonia, was alone, un-
married, undesired, dependent upon her half-brother
for all that she had.
Everyone said that Theobald of Grenzenmark was
the handsomest prince in Europe.
Full well the lady guessed why he should come to
Kilistria!


CHAPTER IVI
MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG
HE soft-footed Stepan had now brought all the
necessary things, and the tea-table stood invit-
ingly ready.
As the princess seemed unconscious of the fact, her
nephew ran to her and ﬂung an arm about her waist.
“Wake up, beloved, I’ve got such a thirst on, I
could drink the lake! Leave thy dreaming, pretty,
and get a hustle on! Lift the feet! That’s right!”
With these words he whirled her, unresisting, into
the chair which stood before the tea-tray. As usual,
they spoke in English, that the entire departure from
Court etiquette in their daily intercourse might be the
less obvious to those around.
“Got the hump?” he asked tenderly, putting down
his head to peep sideways under her hat.
“Hump indeed? You’re enough to give me one,
you young rotter.”
“Oh, tut, tut! ‘Soon you will ﬁnd that the sun and
the wind, and the djinn of this terrace too, have taken
the hump—’ Perhaps you’ll kindly explain what
you’ve got to hump yourself about, Evadne P. ?”
An odd expression curved her mouth. Being in the
shade, she laid aside her hat before beginning to pour
out tea.
“Perhaps that is why, because I am Evadne P.,
perhaps I want to be Evadne R.”
“Well, why not? Any king who had once set eyes
37


38 THE KING’S WIDOW
on you would decline to have any other queen, unless
he were a congenital idiot! What about this mer-
chant who’s coming here?” Ra absorbed all his
tutor’s slang, as a sponge absorbs water. “Theobald.
He may be a king one day, probably will. You’d bet-
ter give him a look over.”
Evadne began to laugh.
“Your vulgarity, dear nephew, is quite—quite
royal,” she retorted. “I think it’s rather nice of Theo-
bald to come, certainly; but it is very tiresome of him
to come as the guest of the Nordern Embassy, for that
means that I shall have to receive that odious old
Glanzingfors, after getting myself into disgrace' with
your dear papa by declining to do so. However, don’t
let’s think of anything but sunset and strawberries just
now! Cast an eye on that old lake! Calm as a sheet
of looking-glass.”
“Isn’t it ripping! I say, Evadne, let’s have a couple
of canoesand race back!”
This time her laugh rang out.
“Ra! You’re incorrigible! Much more like your
godfather The Swashbuckler than your own papa!
No, thank you, I’ve had enough racing for one day—
by water this morning, on horseback this afternoon.
I am going to sit quite still after tea and be conveyed
home by you and Mistitch.”
Stepan here laid upon the table a ﬁne crayﬁsh, whose
joints reposed upon a bed of endive mayonnaise, with
discs of golden egg.
The princess could not have said what impulse led
her, as she shot a glance at the man’s impassive face,
to demand abruptly—“You speak English?”
“No, Madame la Comtesse,” was the grave reply,
as he stood at her side waiting to carry a bit of the
tempting plat to the prince.
“Ra, you must carve that animal. I can’t pour out


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 39
tea and serve portions at the same time, though this
idiot appears to expect it,” said she contemptuously.
“Give me the dish,” sharply said Ra to the waiter in
‘Kilistrian. The man started, murmured an apology,
and moved round the table.
Evadne’s eyes followed him with a look of annoy-
ance. She pushed back her chair abruptly.
“You can go,” said she, “we do not require you. I
will ring if you should be wanted.”
The Pole bowed in silence, and moved conveniently
to her side another table upon which were ranged
spare plates, spoons, and so on for the strawberries.
He then retired to a trestle bulIet a little way off, where
he was busy folding napkins and polishing spoons.
“I don’t quite understand,” said Ra presently, when
his hunger and thirst were more or less satisfied, “why
you have got your knife into Nordernreich. What’s
N ordernreich done to you, anyway ?”
Her mouth curved up until one could just see the
glint of white teeth within the lips.
“If you want to know, it is because of Nordernreich
that I am still Evadne P.,” was her reply. The vigilant
Pole was able to intercept an indication, momentary
only, of something far more fundamental than girlish
temper in the spirited glance.
The Princess wished her words recalled the moment
she had spoken. She knew that it was imprudent to
say so much to Ra; and went on speaking to hide her
blunder.
“It’s not only a question of me! What’s Nordern-
reich done to civilisation? Don’t you know that these
sleek gentry who go in and out so amiably among us
are the devils who planned systematic outrage and
torture—systematic treachery? Do you suppose they
had no design in estranging your father from Uncle
Raoul and Aunt Edmée? Do you suppose they fasten


40 THE KING’S WIDOW
themselves upon us without a purpose? No, they
mean to use us in some way; and, when they have done
with us Ahl” She pushed back her chair, and
wrung her slight hands together, “if I but stood in my
brother’s place! If, instead of Evadne P. I were
Evadne R., then we should see if the big bully would
gain the diplomatic victory it hopes for, over a little
unsuspicious countryl”
Once more Ra’s intense gaze and ﬁxed attention
warned her that such talk was rash.
“Oh Ra, I ought not to talk like this. Don’t take
too much notice of it. Many people hold that your
father did a brilliant stroke of policy when he made an
early bid for the—the friendship of Nordernreich.”
Ra looked away, over the lake, and when he turned
to her again, his colour had mounted.
“Eva,” he said softly, “I’ve so often wanted to know
—-would it hurt you to talk to me of—that time when
you were so nearly a queen?”
There was a long silence. Stepan’s ceaseless polish-
ing made no sound. ,He was behind Evadne, who was
unconscious of his presence. She replied presently——
“There’s very little to tell. Only one thing indeed
that would interest you. I have often meant to tell
you, because you are so understanding and dear. But
I don’t feel quite able, now I think I’ll wait until
I’ve seen Theobald Will you go down to the
water, and see if Mistitch has come for us?”
As if to assist her change the subject, there suddenly
appeared, above the steps which led down from the
terrace to the landing-stage, the head and shoulders
of a typical Kilistrian peasant, with wild russet locks
and beard, but neatly dressed in a white linen uniform
with red facings, and wearing on his left arm the badge
of the Red Swan, the crest of the Kilistrian royal
family.


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 41
“He’s come too early, old ferret!” observed Ra
crossly.
Mistitch approached, a huge person, with eyes
which, although small and bloodshot, seemed (as
Evadnehad once remarked) not merely to see things
but to swallow them.
As he came along, his gaze swept the terrace from
end to end, ﬂashing out like an ant-eater’s tongue.
Stepan Woronz was lifting a pile of plates. He
turned his back upon those search-lights with amazing
celerity, and vanished through a small service door-
way, at some distance from the spot whereat the royal
pair were seated.
Mistitch halted within a few feet of them, the un-
canny rays of his eyes—the colour of dry mud—bent
upon them with a mixture of doting fondness mingled
with vexation.
“Still alive,” he remarked, with heavy sarcasm. “In
spite of your daily eﬁorts to kill yourselves! But I
notice that the lady Countess has even yet hardly grown
cool; while the brave Count—”
“Oh shut up, you old popinjay,” replied Ra, half
angry, half laughing. “Run away to your cool barge
and stay there, like King Arthur in Avilion, until you
are wanted.”
“Go indoors and get a cup of wine, Mistitch,” sub-
joined Evadne kindly. “We shall not be ready to
leave for another quarter of an hour.”
The man saluted, plodded on past them with singu-
larly noiseless feet, and entered the inn by that same
door through which the waiter had lately disappeared.
He walked through various passages, and peeped into
more than one pantry on his way to the bar. He could
not however see the waiter who had just left the ter-
race. He did not ask for him, but stood stolidly drink-
ing his wine, and being cordially welcomed by


42 THE KING’S WIDOW
Madame. Of course he heard all about the impending
visit of the embassy.
When he had quite done, he wiped his hairy lips
upon his white coat sleeve, and went out again.
Pausing behind the prince’s chair, he said in a
grumbling tone—
“What is the use of my telling you all I know of the
currents and the dangers of the coast hereabouts if
you will persist in swimming between the Ommo whirl-
pool and the western end of Isola Bella ?”
“I’ve done nothing of the kind!” cried Ra, springing
to his feet. “I’m not such a fool, though you seem to
think I’ve no more sense than a child Hal” he
broke off suddenly, turning to Evadne. “Eva—I know
what he means! He must have seen it too l”
“Oh, of course! We haven’t met you since our
swim this morning, Mistitch! His highness told me
he saw something in the water, and said it looked like
a seal!”
“If it was what I saw, it looked exactly like what it
was—a man swimming,” replied Mistitch stolidly, his
suspicions of Ra apparently not yet appeased. “But
it was an early hour for you to be in the water when I
saw it, young master.”
“What hour was that?”
“Soon after seven this morning. You swam from
the island, straight over to the Florémar woods, skirt-
ing the whirlpool only by a very narrow margin. You
landed and vanished among the trees.”
“You really are a fool, Mistitch, if you think it was
me. What had he got on?”
“Your bathing suit, my prince. Black and yellow.”
“The deuce he had!” murmured Ra, staring.
“He must have been swimming back to the island
when you saw him, Ra—that was between eleven and
twelve,” cried Evadne.


MISTITCH THE WATCHDOG 43
“He’s a ﬁsh we must catch!” cried the boy.
“So it seems. But it puzzles me. Who could get
to the island by seven, unless he started from the Water
Gate beach, or somewhere else in our private
grounds?” ruminated Mistitch.
“We looked about on the island this morning, but
I don’t think he was there,” said Evadne doubtfully.
“Well, to tell you the truth, he may have been,”
Ra owned it uncomfortably, “and I missed him, like
a silly ass. I thought, as I opened the door of the hut,
that I heard a sound, and I looked in the cupboards,
but I never thought of the trap-door. I had the idea
you kept it locked.”
“So I do.”
“Well, I believe he was down there all right. I also
believe he had pinched some of our biscuits. Evidently
he had borrowed my bathing suit.”
“Be content, son of mine,” growled Mistitch. “It
won’t happen again. One wants eyes in the back of
one’s head when it comes to strangers—but strangers
have been so scarce on the lake-shore that I have grown
careless may be.”
“Yes, you’re an old fraud. We certainly look to
you to keep out trespassers,” replied Ra. “I expect
he was some journalist chap, doing the Peeping Tom
business. You know Eva won’t ever allow them with-
in miles of Florémar, so I expect they hang around
and this one made a dash; and pulled it OH, too!”
“Thou knowest all!’ replied Mistitch, with grim
irony, turning his back upon the heir to the throne, and
moving off, down the steps, to where his boat lay
moored. He was a privileged person. One no more,
resented his roughness than one resents the leaping up
of a big dog in his access of affection. He had car-
ried Raoul in his arms as a babe, and was devoted to


44 THE KING’S WIDOW
him; though it is probable that his devotion to Evadne
was even more complete.
The Polish waiter joined the rest of the hotel staff
to see the boat start away.
Evadne sat in the stern, the rudder-lines over her
shoulders, and Mistitch pulled bow to the prince’s
stroke. But when they had gone some way, the old
man rose, picked up the boy unceremoniously and de-
posited him beside his aunt in the stern, sculling the
rest of the way back himself.


CHAPTER .V
THE FOREST GUARD
T was a week later. Prince Ra was back in Gail-
ima; but he and his tutor, Humphrey Varley, were
to come down with Queen Rosamond in a few days’
time, and to remain at Florémar for a month at least,
after her Majesty’s return to the capital.
For the die was cast. Evadne had come to a de-
cision. To the intense relief of the king and queen
she had capitulated, consented to receive the ambas-
sador, and also to give her favourableconsideration to
the idea of a match between herself and Theobald of
Grenzenmark.
On a rainy afternoon she sat alone in the wide ve-
randa at Water Gate—her “boongalov” as the natives
called it—and thought things over.
A modest residence, indeed, for a princess! Just
one of those picturesque wooden houses, with gaily
painted eaves, which are the characteristic dwellings of
the Kilistrian peasantry.
Her modest retinue consisted solely of her maid, a
girl called Nada—and Mistitch, Headman of the
Forest Guard, who, with his family resided at Water
Gate, and whose wife, Dola, did the cooking.
So restricted was the accommodation that when the
princess was in residence, her amiable old duenna,
Baroness Alberta, had to reside at the palace, and ar-
rived at the bungalow each day only in time for the
second déjeﬁner. Evadne hated the big, pretentious,
45


46 THE KING’S WIDOW
draughty palace as much as she loved her own little
refuge, built of trees from her brother’s forest,
fashioned and carved by the men upon their own
estate. She loved her lawns, and her brilliant ﬂower-
garden, with its abundance of perfumed blossoms and
its glorious view across the lake. Mistitch had con-
trived for her an excellent water supply. She had a
luxurious bath-room, and open ﬁres in her sitting-
rooms, English fashion; even an electric installation,
the Forest Guard having harnessed a mountain torrent
to provide the palace and the bungalow with a power-
house.
The wide veranda, used by her as a lounge, was on
the secluded side of the bungalow, and absolutely
private. To-day, a pearly rain was drifting on the
bosom of the lake, blotting out distances; but on ﬁne
days could be seen, through a vista purposely cut in the
trees at the cliff edge, the whole extent of the Karneru
See, and the grim rock bastion where the dangerous
rapids were—the rocks known as “the Loop-hole,”
which reared their formidable pinnacles almost in the
centre of the blue waters.
For the purpose of coming to a decision respecting
her future, Evadne had brought out and was examin-
ing the few relics she possessed of the brief and tragic
passages connecting her life with that of the King of
Pannonia.
Almost ever since her abortive marriage she had
lived in a dream, buoyed up by a secret hope; a hope
so wonderful that she was loath to let it go; but so
unsupported that she saw nothing for it now but a
decent interment. She must live no longer in the past,
for she was still young enough to have a future; but
youth was passing.
The King of Pannonia, in his portrait at which she
was now gazing, looked very young indeed. It was


THE FOREST GUARD 47
only the coloured photograph, hastily prepared, the
best the youthful wooer could obtain at the moment.
It represented a fair youth, with hair inclined to
wave, and features wholly unremarkable, except per-
haps for the line between the lips, which was both
strong and sweet. The eyes had been depicted, by a
brush desirous of ﬂattering, as of a bright, forget-me-
not blue. Evadne remembered that the king’s proxy
had told her that this was not accurate, and that his
master’s eyes were grey. He had pronounced the por-
trait altogether a failure. He said “they had painted
all the meaning out of it.”
There were besides a few letters. The ﬁrst, evi-
den-tly dictated by a state ofﬁcial, conveyed the offer
of the royal hand. The second, ringing more human
and sincere, urged upon her the proxy marriage; and
the third and last, which nobody knew she possessed,
had been handed secretly to her by Michael F erolitz,
just before the ceremony.
It was this third letter which had touched some
spring in the heart of Evadne, which had sent her to
the frontier full of the most romantic anticipations.
For it was a love-letter; and to the young girl who re-
ceived it, bore the stamp of every truth.
Leonhardt had let himself go, in that letter. He
told her that he was not merely her state husband, but
her lover—that he had fallen in love, like the prince
in the Arabian Nights—with her picture. (“Cer-
tainly I sent him a better one than he sent me!” had
been her thought). He wanted her to know that, if
she so chose, they might be everything to one another,
they might live two lives, the one before their people,
and the other in an enchanted garden of love, sacred
to their two selves. If she wished this to be so—if
she gave him leave to woo her, to be her lover as well
as her husband, he asked her to hand to him, when they


48 THE KING’S WIDOW
met, the token enclosed in the little carven box which
contained the note. That token was a key, a tiny
golden key; and a label was aﬁixed to it, bearing, in
Leonhardt’s rather boyish hand, the words—“The
Master Key.”
The unusual nature of this secret communication-—
the convincing animation of its style—had produced
a powerful effect. Ferolitz, moreover, was an eloquent
advocate, devoted to the prince. He assured her that
Leonhardt was going to be great. He would hold
Pannonia in the hollow of his hand.
A bright hope had buoyed up the bride during the
quaint medizval ceremony which made her a queen.
The rosiest dreams had borne her company. When,
three days later, she set out, with her half-brother, the
king, in attendance, for the little frontier town of
Syllis where the bridegroom was to join them, she was
all one thrill of eager anticipation.
The shock of the ghastly tidings which greeted her
next morning was proportionately severe. Even now,
after the lapse of years, memory winced away from the
picture of the room in the ancient, humble hostelry
transformed by Leonhardt’s orders into a bower of
luxury for his bride—and of the entrance of King
Boris, his face chalk white, hardly able to speak for the
horror of what he must say.
She remembered nothing of what followed, nothing
of the piteous homeward journey.
At her earnest plea, Boris had allowed her to go into
the mountains, to the old castle of Orlenthal, Where
she was born. There, in an absolute seclusion, she
lived, or rather existed, for three months; until she
was called back sharply to life by the arrival of the
mysterious message. -
It so happened that, upon the fateful evening, the
princess went up to her own room alone, her maid


THE FOREST GUARD 49
having been called suddenly away by the illness of her
mother.
Upon entering the chamber, Evadne’s eye was
caught by a pile of things upon her toilet-table. The
various brushes, mirrors, boxes, and so on, had been
collected into a heap, as though by the hand of some
mischievous child.
She stood a moment in surprise, and then began to
move the things. Under them was a tiny embroidered
mat, and under that, again, was a small bit of paper,
folded tightly. Apparently it had been torn from the
margin of a newspaper, by somebody who had no
scissors. It was about eight inches long when un-
rolled, and upon it were written these words—
“Ces cochons du Nord se trompent. Votre mari 'vit
encore. Attendez des autres nouvelles.”
There was no signature, but at the end was a some-
what elementary though unmistakable drawing of a
key.
All the dead hopes awoke and cried within Evadne
as she drank in the signiﬁcance of this message. It
came—it must come—either from the dead king him-
self, or from Ferolitz, the only other mortal who might
possibly know the secret sign of the key. She had the
presence of mind to say nothing of her ﬁnd, but to tele-
graph at once for her brother to come to her. King
Boris came, heard, and set afoot enquiry with a view
to ascertaining who had entered the castle that day. So
remote was the place, so unchanging its routine, that the
very sight of a stranger in the valley was an event not
likely to pass unnoticed.
It seemed certain that no such person had been seen.
With the exception of the arrival of the usual weekly
consignment from Florémar of fruit, vegetables and
game for the royal larder, in charge of the Forest
Guard, nobody had been admitted.


50 THE KING’S WIDOW
Boris was constrained to suppose the whole thing
to be a cruel hoax, though by whom played he was at
a loss to suggest. He pointed out to his little sister,
gently enough, that both the statements contained in
the message were demonstrably untrue. The sugges-
tion that Nordernreich had been concerned in the mur-
der was ridiculous, since Leonhardt was N ordern-
reich’s chosen candidate; while there could be no two
opinions as to the fact of his death. His body, pierced
by many wounds, had lain in state in the cathedral at
Dalmeira before burial. There was, alas! no room
for doubt.
To console the disappointed girl he set on foot in-
quiries for Ferolitz, certainly the person most likely to
have conveyed the message if authentic. It was dif-
ﬁcult in those days to obtain reliable information from
Pannonia; for the military governor appointed by
Oesterland had so inﬂamed the passions of the people
that they were destroying one another; and the new
name of Pandemonia was sarcastically suggested by
one witty newspaper for the unfortunate country.
Ferolitz, as they at last ascertained, had been heard
of in the East; and messages were sent to the consuls
at various ports, to try and trace him; but almost im-
mediately thereafter, came the outbreak of the World
War. Nobody gave a thought any more to Pannonia.
Nobody remembered its widowed queen.
It now seemed very long ago. As Evadne replaced
in the carven box wherein she treasured them, the
letters, the key, and her own miniature, taken from the
pocket of the dead king, stained with his blood, she
took up the gorgeous ruby ring of her betrothal and
bestowed a ﬁnal, farewell sigh as she slipped the jewel
upon her ﬁnger. One never attained to the ideal
in this world. She had hoped that she was to be an
exception. The hope was dead. Was she therefore


THE FOREST GUARD 51
to have nothing at all? How much wiser to decide
to accept second best!
She ﬂung herself back in her hammock, hunching
the pillows luxuriously about her, and holding up her
hand before her, admired the glow of the red stone
against its pallor.
The afternoon was very still, and the quiet of the
veranda seemed to woo to somnolence. As she gazed
into the ﬁery heart of the ruby she felt as though she
were hypnotising herself; for, as she sank into slumber,
never had the thought of her dead lover been so vital
and so stirring within her soul.
How long she slept, her vigorous young form re-
laxed into softness upon the green and blue and purple
silken cushions, she knew not. She heard no foot-’
steps, nor could she have said that any sound awoke
her; but when she opened her eyes a man was standing
motionless outside the veranda in the rain, his eyes
ﬁxed upon her. The royal blood asserted itself in-
stantly, and she sat upright, eyes shining ﬁercely.
“Who are you? What are you doing here ?” She
touched the little bell which would bring Nada
instantly.
“Pardon, mademoiselle,” said a smooth voice which
she thought she had heard before, “I bring a note from
Veros, which I have been ordered to deliver at the
residence of Her Royal Highness the Princess Evadne.
This I presume to be one of the lodges. May I ask
for a direction to the house itself?”
“I have rung for a servant, who will answer you,”
she replied shortly. “You are trespassing. These
grounds are private.”
“I apologise,” he faltered, “I missed my way. I
will retire at once , ”
“You will stop where you are until I order you to
move,” retorted the princess quickly; and he ﬂashed a


THE FOREST GUARD 53
Evadne’s lap, and proceeded to run his captive along
the terrace, round a corner, down a sloping green path
away from the house into the adjacent woods, until
they reached a wooden lodge whence came sounds of
laughter and talking.
Mistitch uttered a peculiar whistle, and there was
silence. Next moment Stepan Woronz found himself
in a large room, wherein eight or nine huge men, all
wearing the uniform of the Forest Guard, sat eating
at a well-spread table.
Mistitch said something to the others in his abomi-
nable patois, which the Pole did not understand. There
was a look of interest, and then a chuckle ran round
the assembly. The stranger found himself pushed
into a seat and supplied with hot coffee and a plate of
sizzling ham and cabbage.
“The rain’s heavy,” said Mistitch, in tones of mock
sympathy. “We’ll dry the dear chap’s town boots for
him while he eats.”
Pushing back his chair, Stepan opened his mouth to
protest, but it was no use. One of the big men held
him ﬁrmly while another unlaced and removed his
boots, all of them apparently in the best of humour,
and only anxious to serve him.
His wet foot-gear was placed on the brick stove
Whereon many other pairs of substantial boots were
standing to dry—regulation boots, all of the same
pattern.
Seeing that submission was his only course, he had
the sense to pretend gratitude and good fellowship;
and being remarkable hungry, ate with appetite the
food set before him. One of the band stood before
the stove, his pipe in his mouth, engaging him in talk,
and incidentally preventing him from seeing what Mis-
titch was doing at the stove behind him.
He could not see—but he could guess; and he was


54 THE KING'S WIDOW
secretly furious. From henceforth he dare leave no
footprint anywhere.
He ﬁnished his meal, pushed away his plate, brought
out a cigarette and lit it.
“Anybody know when I shall get the answer to that
note I brought ?” he asked, with studied insolence.
“Sorry I made such a mistake, but in my country prin-
cesses don’t live in keepers’ lodges. I’ve got no time
to lose. They keep us busy, down at Veros nowadays.”
Mistitch had ﬂung himself down on a chair near,
sucking an old clay pipe.
“Busy!” said he meditatively. “Busy are you?
Shouldn’t have thought it. You seem to have so much
time on your hands, by night as well as by day.”
Stepan, a little startled, made no reply.
“Niklaus! Go up to Water Gate and ask for a
note,” said Mistitch, addressing a man who seemed
to be somewhat in the position of a corporal. Niklaus
saluted and went out. “In what sized house,” con-
tinued Mistitch, “our royalties choose to live, is no
concern of the scum of Nordernreich, who, unable to
ﬁnd a living in their own dirty country, come to fasten
themselves upon us.”
“I agree with you,’ said Stepan at once. “Down
with Nordernreich! I’m a Pole.”
“Yes, a Nordern Pole. We know those.”
“I was born at Warsaw.”
“What took your parents there? Flying from
justice?”
“Or from injustice,” said Woronz in a low tone.
Anton, a handsome young guard, made a sound of
sympathy. “He’s our guest, Papa Mistitch. Let him
alone.”
“Tscha l” replied Mistitch, with an inﬂexion of huge
contempt.
Soon after, Niklaus could be seen returning.
i


THE FOREST GUARD 55
Woronz rose, before his boots could be handed to
him, and went to the stove to get them. As if ac-
cidentally, he took up another pair, which he turned
over so that the soles were visible. It was but a brief
glance, but it showed him that in the thick leather the
Red Swan badge was clearly stamped, so that the
footprints of a Forest Guard were easily distinguish-
able from those of anyone else.
Mistitch handed him the note he was to carry, with
these impressive words.
“Kilistrians are plain speakers. You will not, after
to-day, be admitted at any gate into these grounds.
Any message you bring, must be left with a gate-
keeper.”
“This is a little too much!” cried the Pole hotly.
“Do you suppose I want to come blundering about your
beggarly enclosures?”
“You may thank your stars that you are leaving a
free man this day,” was the composed rejoinder.
“You don’t bluff me, you creeping spy. Niklaus and
Ratin, bandage his eyes, and put him outside the gates.
He enters them again at his own peril.”


CHAPTER VI
THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE
VADNE decided upon a lake picnic as the most
suitable way for her to entertain her suitor and
the members of the embassy. Her sister-in-law,
Queen Rosamond, thought it a distinctly good idea,
and came down from Gailima for the occasion, bring-
ing her two little daughters, the Princesses Edme'e and
Marie, as well as Prince Ra and his English tutor.
She was pleased with Evadne, and wished to show
it; and moreover she was most anxious to behold Theo-
bald, who had travelled incognito straight through to
Veros where the embassy was installed, without paus-
ing at the capital to be received by their majesties.
The young prince’s ﬁrst respects had been paid to
Princess Evadne, whom he had visited at her incred-
ible toy cottage; which, with the uniforms of the Forest
Guard and the native costumes of Nada and Dola,
reminded him irresistibly of a scene in comic opera.
This impression was, however, speedily effaced when
he entered the room wherein the mistress of Water
Gate awaited him, supported by Baroness Alberta and
also by Baron Herluin, late envoy to the Court of
Pannonia, now retired from public life and living on
his estate of Kyriel Moor. It was this Baron Her-
luin upon whom had devolved the heart-breaking task
of carrying to the girl-bride after the funeral the full
account of Leonhardt’s death, and the blood-stained
portrait of herself found in his pockets. Evadne had a
real affection for the gentle, courtly old man.
£6


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 57
The visit was entirely formal, and as such, much
approved by old Glanzingfors. “None of your foul
English go-as-you-please,” as he felicitously expressed
himself on the way home. Theobald was so silent
upon the drive back that the ambassador’s hopes went
down to zero. He began pointing out to the young
man that the commendable observance of Court
etiquette had to-day left him no chance of anything but
the most formal exchange of civilities; but that another
time
There Theobald had broken in upon him. Another
time! Yes, and as soon as possible. He must see her
again—must satisfy himself that she actually was the
marvellous beauty which she had seemed at ﬁrst sight.
He was unable to believe that this could be the lady
offered to his consideration by von Reulenz as an
elderly haven of refuge from his state of chronic in-
digence. How could a creature like that be going
begging? Why was not every prince in Europe in the
lists for her hand?
Von Reulenz laughed, and said it was better not to
be too lavish of praise beforehand; and she really was
twenty-six—a terrible risky age for a woman.
“What has age to do with a beauty like that?” cried
Theobald. “You don’t know what you’re talking
about. If she were seen at Vienna she would set the
place ablaze. What a complexion! A shade riper
than mere pink and white, yet fading at throat and
chin into pure pearl! What lips for kissing! And
by the gods, what eyes!”
Old Glanzingfors, blinking behind his spectacles,
was forced to conclude that the young man’s heart was
really touched; which was unfortunate, since the one
who feels is always at a disadvantage in driving a bar-
gain.
The ambassador himself had been impressed by


58 THE KING’S WIDOW
Evadne more than he cared to admit. The frigidity
which lay behind her faultless reception of himself had
been felt. He knew that this young woman was the
enemy of Nordernreich; and he knew also that she had
character and ability to make her enmity felt. For a
few minutes, during their interchange of compliments,
he experienced an odd sinking of the spirits, almost
like fear. If Theobald could win her, would that at-
titude change? Or was he, by providing her with a
husband and a position, merely offering her a platform
from which to open her offensive?
As they drove to the picnic, these thoughts troubled
his Excellency.
It was understood that the affair was to be entirely
without ceremony, and al fresco. The attire con-
sidered suitable by Glanzingfors was a check suit of
violent pattern and a huge Panama hat. Von Reulenz,
the prince, and his aide-de-camp, a youth named von
Jott, wore boating ﬂannels.
The ladies of the party consisted of the daughters
of the ambassador, two brick-dust coloured maidens
with hair curled up into the species of forehead fringe
fashionable in England in the ’nineties, and wearing
frocks of ﬂowered muslin, and pink sashes.
The visitors were somewhat surprised, when the
lodge-keeper admitted their cars at the gates of the
park, to be instructed to proceed, not to the Water
Gate, but on to the palace of Florémar.
There they were received by the queen herself, with
her family and the English tutor.
At ﬁrst sight of Theobald, hope sprang high in
Rosamond’s heart. He was really handsome, in the
proud, disdainful style which usually appeals to the
heart of the maiden. His eyelashes were long and
thick, shading eyes of eloquent depth. His black hair
!


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 59
curled above a brow becomingly bronzed. He seemed
born to be a hero of romance.
He had on his side, some ado to conceal his im-
patience at not being received by Evadne. He was
seething with the desire to look at her again. To be
carried Off to the palace was needless delay. TO ﬁnd
an Englishman there was almost an insult. What did
Kilistria want with all this English? He found that
none of the royal children spoke Nordern with real
ﬂuency.
The queen hastened to allay his dissatisfaction by
telling him that Evadne had gone down to the Water
Gate to see that the boats were in readiness. “We
hope,” said her majesty to all the party, “that you will
enjoy walking down to the lake-side from here. We
want you to see our grounds.”
All protested their pleasure at the arrangement,
though the young ladies glanced with anxiety at their
high-heeled ball-shoes.
Theobald thought he had never in his life known
people to walk so slowly. He attached himself to the
two little girls, who were glad enough to dance on
ahead with him, across the wide lawns, and through
lovely thickets of roses, to the top of the steep path
which led down to the shore.
Half-way down, this path turned into stairs, cut in
the cliff-side. On either hand was rock-garden, ablaze
with all shades of the cistus or rock-rose. One turned
a corner and came suddenly into view of the blue
sparkling expanse of water, between two jagged walls
of blossom-smothered sandstone.
Thus he saw her for the second time—so framed——
standing there all in white, radiant against the tur-
quoise background, balancing herself in the rocking
boat, and smiling a welcome from under the brim of
her wide hat.


60 THE KING’S WIDOW
“Haven’t we hit upon a ﬁne day?” said she cordially;
and gave him her hand with a simplicity and friendli-
ness for which her stately demeanour of two days back
had left him unprepared.
She directed the loading of the boats with quiet
decision.
“Rosamond, will you please go in the ﬁrst boat, with
the Prince Ambassador, his elder daughter, and Herr
von Reulenz? Mr. Varley will take Bar-Bar, and Ra
and the little girls. In the last boat perhaps you,
Fraulein Hedwig, will accompany me, with his High-
ness and Herr von Jott ?”
Theobald was delighted. All his good humour re-
turned as he took his seat beside Evadne, watching,
almost indulgently, the bestowal by Varley of his
boat’s company, in a flood of chatter and chaff.
Ra, as he flung off his blazer, was shouting his usual
formula—
“Race you to the island, Eva I”
To which the princess, daintily drawing the rudder-
lines over her shoulders, returned this cryptic answer—
“Race your grandmother! That boy wants a good
telling-off, Mr. Varley! He has racing on the brain.”
The tutor wore a whimsical smile as he raised his
face after adjusting his stretcher. “Oh be gentle with
him! He has only raced twice to-day, so far—Nik-
laus, in the water, before breakfast, and me on horse-
back, afterwards.”
“N iklaus,” observed Ra, “beat me to a cocked hat,
naturally. But I beat old Varley by a length.”
“Did you ever know such a boy?” laughed Evadne,
as the boat rowed off. “I’m afraid I spoil him. We
are great friends.” She glanced up at Mistitch, stand-
ing awaiting her pleasure, and told him they were ready.
The two white-coated foresters swayed forward to


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 61
their oars, and the third boat started over the sunlit
water.
“Oh, Prince Ra and his sisters have no boatman with
them? Are they safe?” cried Miss Hedwig in sur-
prise.
Evadne laughed.
“They have Mr. Varley, an Oxford blue,” said she.
“We more or less live on the water all the hot
weather.” She turned to Theobald. “Do you like
boating?” '
“I like this boating,” he replied promptly.
It seemed to him far too short a time before they
touched at the little landing stage on Isola Bella.
When Hedwig and von Iott had been helped ashore
he inquired regretfully——
“Have we got to land here?”
“Of course not if you don’t want to,” replied Evadne
at once. “Row his Highness and me round the island,
Mistitch.”
Better and better! Theobald could hardly believe
in his good fortune when he found himself being rowed
away with nobody but the two oarsmen to play pro-
priety. He experienced a thousand emotions, whereas
the lady was as unconcerned as if he had been her
nephew.
He became quite talkative, and although he was
evidently no reader yet she found him easy to talk to,
on account of an impetuous way he had of ﬂinging out
his thoughts as they occurred. His admiration of the
Karneru See pleased her, and she told him some of the
local legends, and presently showed him some of the
devices for keeping the lake private—the hidden boom,
over whichtheir keel just glided—she leaned over the
gunwale to point it out without for a moment deﬂecting
from the course she was steering. He noted that the


62 THE KING’S WIDOW
men both rowed without backward glances, evidently
with every conﬁdence in her steersmanship.
As they glided in the shade of the great trees, just
05 the northern shore, the royal children broke out of
the wood, shouting and running down to the water’s
edge to accuse the two of making 05 on the sly.
“Come ashore and bathel” shouted Ra, “we’re all
going to bathe, there’s just nice time before lunch!
Would you like a swim, Theobald? We’ve got every-
thing you’ll wantl”
Evadne turned to her guest. “It would be rather
nice, don’t you think?”
He stared, divided between the feeling of being
intensely shocked and immensely attracted. “You
also?” he asked.
She laughed. “But of course, we have a bathing-
house on the island.”
“Gut!” said Theobald. “If you bathe, I bathe also.
Otherwise, I don’t care to waste any time.”
The boat was turned to the shore. The men ran
her up the sand in response to a few short directions
from her “cox”; and they disembarked.
Rather to Theobald’s satisfaction he found that von
Reulenz and von Jott had both declined to join the
bathing party, which consisted only of the princess, the
royal children, the tutor, and himself. He was so
pleased with the intimacy of the thing that he was al-
most civil to Varley, who on his side felt all the com-
posure which the knowledge of being “top dog” nat-
urally gives. His detestation of Theobald’s nation
was too vast to ﬁnd an outlet in personal spite.
Theobald could swim, but he was not an expert.
He could not dive; and watched with envy while
Evadne, Ra and Varley gave a demonstration, diving
to the pure white bottom to pick up coins. He was
astonished at the way in which the huge Niklaus was


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 63
allowed to pick up the pretty little girls by their middles
and drop them into deep water, whence they emerged
laughing, splashing and enjoying themselves greatly.
The prince had never forecast anything so wonderful
as this—that he should be moving through the blue
sun-warmed water, side by side with a young amazon
whose white arms gleamed submerged as she shot for-
ward with easy strokes, her dainty chin raised just
above the lipping wavelets of her onward course, her
mouth curved to a smile of pure delight.
They were called from their pastime and sent to
dress all too soon. When they met later, in the shade,
cool, refreshed, and ravenously hungry, he cried from
his very heart—
“I believe there is no pleasure in life greater than a
swim on a hot day!”
Evadne’s kindling eye approved the sentiment with
ardour.
The ambassador’s daughters looked contemptuous.
But they were in a minority. Throughout déjeﬁner
the talk was of swimming and boating.
“If Father really does let me go to Oxford, as he
says he will, I believe I shall be in my College eight,
Varley thinks so,” said Ra with satisfaction.
There was an awkward little silence, and the queen
afterwards reproved her son for indiscretion. She
herself, with unfailing tact, saw to it that such moments
were rare.
The meal over, she attended personally to the am-
bassadorial comfort, settling the old gentleman with
his pipe and his coffee on an easy chair in the shade,
and drawing off the noisy youngsters that he might
sleep the sleep of the just after feeding to repletion.
In the deep quiet he awakened presently to ﬁnd only
von Reulenz within sight.
“Hallo! How goes it?” he asked drowsily.


64 THE KING'S WIDOW
“Excellent. Theobald is making the running. Do-
ing more in twenty minutes than you could have done in
six months. Rosmer is a clever chap.”
“You will do me the justice to remember that the
credit of the idea of coming down to Veros is entirely
mine,” was the slightly huﬁed rejoinder.
“Oh, certainly!” replied the attaché hastily.
“In the country, as I truly pointed out, one grows
intimate quickly. I did not however contemplate any-
thing quite so shocking as this mixed bathing. I hardly
liked my daughters to look on. Had I seen her Ex-
cellency the Princess Glanzingfors tumbling about in
the water and kicking her legs before our marriage, it
Would most certainly never have taken place.”
“Oh no, I am sure it would not,” said von Reulenz
absently; and became aware that he had perhaps said
not quite the right thing.
“Apparently the result has been to plunge our prince
all the deeper in love,” he supplemented hurriedly.
“So far, good. But if he is so quickly and easily
influenced in a wrong direction, will she lead him by
the nose after marriage?”
Von Reulenz laughed conﬁdently. “Nordern hus-
bands recover quickly from the in-love stage,” said he
simply, “and Theobald is accustomed to take his own
way."
“I had not understood, nor had I foreseen,” ob-
served the ambassador slowly, “that the young woman
is so much of a personage. She might influence a man
profoundly—even the destiny of a people. She is of
a virile race, and 1—1 own it to you, Fritz, I would
rather have her as my friend than as my enemy.”
“Well, if the English tutor doesn’t murder Theo-
bald, I think you’ll get your wish all right. Evidently
there is no one else in the ﬁeld; but poor Varley is
pretty far gone.”


THEOBALD AND THE SIMPLE LIFE 65
“No Englishman,” observed his chief, with the air
of one making an incontrovertible statement, “so much
as knows the meaning of the word ‘love.’ That is
reserved for us Norderners. Look at the English!
No domesticity! No parental authority! Emanci-
pated women! Race suicide 1”
“I shouldn’t belittle ’em if I were you,” said von
Reulenz sorely. “Since they were strong enough to
beat us.”


CHAPTER VII
'rns sscorm MESSAGE
N the day following the picnic, Theobald, as in
duty bound, called at the Water Gate, but found
nobody at home. Leaving his card, he returned to
Veros crestfallen. His vexation increased when, after
dinner that night, Rastitch led him forth upon the ter-
race and pointed out the white sail of a returning boat,
informing him that the royal family had made a long
day’s excursion, starting early that morning, to the
gorge of Karna.
He thought they might have invited him to join
them. How dull for that beautiful Evadne to be al-
ways en famille/ But perhaps the tutor was enough
for her? Rastitch, eyeing the Prince warily, saw jeal-
ousy in the set of his ﬁne jaw, and the gleam of his eye,
and smiled, well satisﬁed.
“Is your Highness pleased with our royal family?”
he asked deferentially. “We think our young prin-
cesses promise to be beautiful women.”
“They are lovely children,” answered Theobald,
“but neither of them will be as handsome as the Prin-
cess Evadne.”
“Ah, no, you say truly. She is of a surprising beauty.
The shadow of her life’s tragedy has spoilt a few years
of her youth, but of late we are all feeling sure that she
is cured.”
Mine host was easily drawn out, and he regaled his
guest with his celebrated account of the princess riding
66


THE SECOND MESSAGE 67
forth to meet her lover, and returning after the news
of his murder. Theobald was quite impressed. “Had
I known that Kilistria held such a gem,” said he, “I
should have visited your country long ago.”
Rastitch sighed and shrugged. “It was the war,
the accursed war,” said he, “that put a stop to love and
joy. But now there is peace, and we turn our thoughts
to happiness once more.”
There was a pause while the lover’s eyes followed
the ﬂitting of the white sail towards Florémar. The
inkeeper came a little nearer and said confidentially—
“The moon is past her ﬁrst quarter. A moonlight sail
is a form of amusement much patronised by our
quality.”
“A moonlight sail?”
Rastitch pointed far out upon the lake, due north,
where upon the twilight waters there showed the out-
line of an isle, with something that looked like ruined
walls upon it. To the west there towered up to the
sky a lofty jagged pinnacle, or twin pinnacles of rock.
“That,” said Rastitch, “is the Cloister Isle, where
are the ruins of a once great convent of nuns. On the
left you see the terrible rock known as the Loop-hole.
It is impressive in the moonlight, and if one takes a
supper with one—”
The prince turned to him joyfully.
“An idea!” he cried. “Wouldn’t that be an idea!
Could one keep out the public?”
“Yes by sending notice to the hotels. There would
be just time.”
“It would be our affair,” ran on Theobald, “an em-
bassy picnic! I suppose we could get men to sail boats
and so on? I can’t do much in that line myself.”
“As to that,” said Rastitch, “there is my big steam
launch, the Lotus, and I feel sure that the Headman
would lend us the small royal launch, the Red Swan.


68 THE KING’S WIDOW
I could send off a band of waiters in the afternoon,
with all the necessary stuff. If you hang strings of
fairy lights in the trees it is most magical in effect.”
Theobald waited to hear no more. He rushed off
to catch von Reulenz and unfold this glittering project.
“Just tell old Glanz that I insist,” said he. “I sup-
pose he’ll ﬁnance the scheme, won’t he? He wants
this match to come off. Then we’ll send up an invita-
tion this very evening. I suppose we’ll have to invite
the boy and his confounded Englishman. Also the
fat old Baroness. The queen and the little girls go
back to Gailima to-morrow, don’t they?”
Reulenz took up the idea as enthusiastically as even
Theobald could wish.
“It’s exactly the thing,” said he, “and there’s a
waiter here, a ﬁrst-class man, who’ll manage anything
I tell him. I’ll go and ﬁnd him now.”
Stepan Woronz had proved himself so efficient that
he already occupied the post of head waiter. Von
Reulenz found him in the salle [1 manger, counting
' knives and forks, and summoned him out upon the ter-
race.
“Well,” said he in a low voice, “I think we’ve done
the trick. Theobald is as love-sick as a young shep-
herd.”
The waiter’s face was quite expressionless. “In-
deed, sir?”
“Yes. All goes excellently. Old Glanz is very
well pleased. He has warned Theobald to say noth-
ing of having been promised the throne of Pannonia
until he is sure of the princess. But I really do think
we shall bring this off. Pannonia might have kicked
at a Nordern ruler, but a Kilistrian queen will just
make all the difference. They would be our puppets,
the strings could all be worked by old Glanz—from
Gailima if need be.”


THE SECOND MESSAGE 69
“And the lady?” ,
“The lady is much easier to tackle than we feared.
They seemed to be getting on like a house on ﬁre all
yesterday. Sat and talked in the shade and so on.
No wonder! A handsome girl like that must be about
fed up with living in this place.”
“Doubtless.”
“Never thought we should have caught her so eas-
ily,” went on the attaché gleefully. “She seemed so
uncommon difficult. But women are all the same. A
man with ﬁne eyes can do as he likes with ’em! I tell
you, the trick’s done. When we return to Gailima as
the princess’s pets, King Boris will look on us with
very different eyes—especially when he knows she is
to be Queen of Pannonia after all.”
“After all!” echoed the waiter.
Von Reulenz lit a cigar, ﬂung away the match, and
continued with gusto.
“She put up so many fences at ﬁrst! Refused us the
entrée of her grounds! Called in old Herluin to back
her up when she received us in that little shack of hers
—fetched down the queen herself to chaperon the pic-
nic! But in spite of it all, we’ve got her now. I
think the moonlight supper ought to clinch it.”
“It ought.”
Von Reulenz ﬂashed a look round. They were
quite alone, and out of earshot.
“I say, Rosmer,” he murmured with dropped voice,
“we must do everything we can to make sure. About
those rumours, now, that you spoke of to old Glanz,
the rumour that after all, Leonhardt of Vrelde was
not dead. The old man is d (1 close, but I thought,
from his manner, that he knew something about it,
didn’t you?”
“To tell you the truth, I had that impression.”
“Well, now, that is what I hoped you’d be able to


70 THE KING’S WIDOW
ascertain. I can’t understand you failing to get into
the palace grounds. You are usually so successful in
anything of that sort—”
“The Kilistrians,” said the SW. with more convic-
tion that he had yet shown, “are eﬂicient bodyguards.”
“But to turn back a messenger from the embassy at
the gates-——”
“Pardon, captain, that was not quite what happened.
I was taken to the guard-house, and a messenger car-
ried my note to the princess and brought me back the
answer.”
“Why should they take you to the guard-house ?”
“That appears to be the custom.”
“Then you neither saw the lady nor even her wait-
ing-maid?”
(CNOI’,
“It isn’t like you to be baﬂled. Shall you try
again?”
“When you have another note to send I will wear
the embassy livery, and I think that ought to gain me
admission to the kitchen. I will guarantee that no-
body, not even Mistitch, will know me for the same
man.”
“Excellent! And you can try it this very night!
Theobald shall write his invitation, and you shall take
it and await the answer.”
“I shall be ready at half-past nine, sir. I have
leave at nine o’clock this evening as it happens. It
will take me a full half-hour to ﬁx my disguise.”
“Right! I’ll see the note is ready for you.”
“Then don’t keep me any longer now, or those chaps
in the dining-room will be getting their ears cocked.”
Von Reulenz nodded, and strolled off.
There was not a breath of wind left upon the lake
as the H aleyon grated gently against the landing-stage
at Water Gate. The last mile home had been made


THE SECOND MESSAGE 71
by rowing, and the queen had had a good deal to say
of the obstinacy and folly of Ra and Eva in preferring
the old sailing boat to the smart little steam launch.
The misguided pair only laughed at her. Sailing was
their craze.
As the lovely little craft came ﬁnally to rest, Evadne
took her arm from the tiller, and heaved a sigh, al-
most oppressed by the glory of the sunset world around
her.
Like one in a dream she stepped ashore, giving her
hands to Humphrey Varley absent-mindedly. Then,
looking up, she caught his eye and felt an impulse of re-
morse.
“You’re coming up to Florémar to supper, are you
not?” he asked in a low voice.
“I was, but I’m going to back out,” replied she, mak-
ing up her mind suddenly. “I’m astonishingly tired.
I think I’ll go home to bed.”
“Eva, you’re a rotter,” cried Ra, vexed.
“I know it, boy, but I can’t help it.”
“Don’t be selﬁsh, Ra,” said Humphrey. “You can
see that her highness is tired.” This was the queen’s
last evening, but not his. He was to remain, with
the prince, at Florémar for another four weeks, free
to indulge in his hopeless longings and sun himself
in this perilous companionship. It did not strike him
that the princess’s refusal to go to the palace was
prompted by the danger signal she had read in his tell-
tale glance. Every now and then Evadne was over-
swept with the feeling that things were rather hard
for Humphrey; and at such times she would be cool
and distant for a few days, or hours, as the case might
be—until she forgot again, and there they were, back
on their old footing.
Queen Rosamond was used to the rapid variation of
her sister-in-law’s spirits, and took her evasion in good


72 THE KING’S WIDOW
part. They all climbed the stairs to the bungalow to-
gether; and took leave at the wicket gate, going on to
F lorémar without her.
Evadne, alone, entered her little home, through one
of the open windows of the hall sitting-room. It was
in darkness, save for the shining of the moon, which
lay in bars across the floor. Since yesterday’s picnic,
she had been trying to analyse her own feelings, to
come face to face with her own intentions; but in vain.
As she approached the table at which she was wont to
write letters she saw a visiting card lying on a small
salver. Snatching it eagerly, she carried it to the win-
dow, and deciphered Theobald’s name. He had, as
she supposed he would, come to pay his visit of in-
spection, and had, as she was determined he should,
found her “not at home.”
Would he make a further move?
As to this, her speculation was brief. Nada, who
had heard the voices of the royal party as they said
“Good-night,” ran in and handed her mistress a note.
“The messenger is waiting in the kitchen, Highness.
He was told not to return without an answer,” said
she in tones of suppressed excitement, as she touched
the switches and ﬂooded the room with light.
The princely coronet was on the envelope. Theo-
bald had lost no time in making his next move. She
knew her heart was beating faster as she broke the
seal. “What like was the messenger who brought
this?” she asked, her eye upon the girl’s unwonted
colour.
Nada giggled, in pleased embarrassment. “One of
the embassy footmen, Highness. Such a droll crea-
ture! He has been keeping us all in ﬁts of laughter
ever since he came.”
“Is he a waiter? A Polish waiter?”
“Oh no, Highness! Far superior! A valetl A


THE SECOND MESSAGE 73 ’
gentleman who knows the Court at Grenzenmark!
The stories he has to tell!” She was tittering at the
mere memory of them.
Evadne read the note—easy and charming—in
which Theobald issued his invitation; had he but
known it, a particularly tempting one, both for Ra
and herself. The Cloister Isle was out of bounds
for them by the king’s orders; and this for two rea-
sons, the fact that it lay in the most tourist-frequented
portion of the lake; and the danger of the currents in
the vicinity of the Loop-hole.
The prince explained that, for the night in ques-
tion, the isle had been retained for the sole use of the
embassy. Evadne had not been told much about the
dangerous rapids, and had no doubt about accepting,
in view of what Rosamond had said to her of her
brother’s wishes.
“When I ring,” said she, sitting down to her writ-
ing-table, “send in the prince’s servant to take the an-
swer from my own hand.”
A few minutes later Nada ushered in a stout, rosy
individual with surprised-looking eye-brows, rimless
glasses, and a roguish glance. He replied with a ter-
riﬁc Nordern accent to her desire to be assured that
nobody at the embassy had been unduly fatigued by
yesterday’s expedition. Knowing nothing of Mis-
titch’s warning to the Pole, she was reassured to ﬁnd
that he was not this time the messenger; and dismissed
the man with a sensation of relief.
Nada soon had her undressed and comfortably in
bed.
Her bedroom opened upon the veranda, with three
long windows. As she liked to sleep in summer-time
with all widely opened, each was protected by a pair
of light gates in wrought iron scroll-work, high enough
to keep out all marauders, canine or human.


74 THE KING’S wmow
If you entered the room by the door facing these
windows, the head of the bed was against the wall to
your left, and the toilet-table in the space between the
centre and the right-hand window. On your right,
facing the foot of the bed, was the door leading to the
bath-room. The princess, as she lay in bed could see
the lake, as she loved to do.
Dola sent in a tray containing a tempting little sup-
per, and Evadne discovered that she was hungry. She
must also have been more tired than she realised; for
pretty soon after eating it she fell soundly, even heav-
ily, into slumber.
The moon, setting early, sank lower until she
peeped under the veranda, and shone upon the picture
of a golden-haired girl asleep. Deep as was Evadne’s
rest, she was dreaming, and in that fantastic world
which we enter in sleep, Theobald was with her. She
was trying to explain to him that she could not be
happy until she had been to Pannonia. It seemed to
her that she repeated several times with urgency, “If
you love me, take me to Pannonia.” He replied very
clearly—“Did you not know that they have made me
King of Pannonia ?” As he said the words, both he
and she paused as it were in the dream, because they
had a suspicion that they were being spied upon. It
was borne in upon them that someone was creeping
about—a spy—an eavesdropper—and the knowledge
paralysed Evadne with the panic fear which is the
property of nightmare.
The stealthy, hidden intruder, dropped something—
or made a noise.
In an instant the dreamer was wide awake, sitting
upright in bed, certain that she had been awakened by
some sound outside the limits of her dream.
The familiar room, faintly visible in the light of the
sinking moon, was completely reassuring. Nothing


THE SECOND MESSAGE 75
stirred. The iron gates were closed, all was as when
she had lain down. Yet she felt certain that a mo-
ment ago something had stirred—someone had really
made a noise, quite near.
Slipping out of bed she ran to the window and
peered forth into the veranda. It was empty and si-
lent, the clustering creepers upon the uprights showing
black and velvety against the dim light beyond. The
night fragrance from a huge syringa bush rushed in
upon her like a caress. She was so certain, however,
of having been awakened by a real sound that she
opened the bath-room door and peeped in. It was
pitch dark, so she touched the switch, and the white
tiles, the white floor-rug, the gleaming porcelain bath
and silver taps sprang into view. All was absolutely
still.
The door leading through into Nada’s room was
ajar. Stepping up to it, Evadne heard with amuse-
ment the loud breathing which told of her handmaid’s
profound slumber. “I’m afraid Nada has adenoids,”
was her thought as she tip-toed back into her own
room.
Closing the bath-room door behind her, she stood a
moment, her eye travelling over the various objects
lying about; and she caught sight of something which
so startled her that for a moment all the blood rushed
to her heart, and she was incapable of moving.
On her toilet table, the various triﬂes which lay
around had been collected into a heap.
Someone had undoubtedly entered her room.
She made a rush for the electric light switch. Then
she stopped short. The person who had entered
might be still lurking outside; able, should she make a
light, to watch her movements.
Her impulse to call Nada died away. She was go-


76 THE KING’S WIDOW
ing to read this message, as she had read the last, un-
seen, privately. It was nobody’s affair but hers.
Thus resolved she summoned her courage, crept
across the room, and drew down, one after another, the
three long reed blinds before her windows. By the
time this was done, she was in the pitch dark and hor-
ribly afraid. However, she found a carrying lamp,
switched it on, and approached the little pyre.
Bit by bit she took it down. '
There, as before, lay a morsel of soiled paper, done
up very tight. She unrolled it. It seemed to be a leaf
torn from a penny block of scribbling paper.
“Attention, Madame la Reine. Vous n’étes pas
weave."


CHAPTER VIII
VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE
T was characteristic of Evadne that, although for a
few moments terror gripped her, she yet had cour-
age not to summon anyone to her help.
She stood before her mirror, rigid, afraid to move,
the light showing her the reﬂection of a woman who
seemed like a stranger, so altered was the expression of
the familiar face.
Her brain at ﬁrst would not work. The shock was
paralysing.
After all these years! Just as she had determined to
throw off her long brooding, to emerge from her se-
clusion, to make a future for herself! Came this sinis-
ter message out of the void-—
“Vous n’étes pas 'veu've.”
When thought once more became active, it was in a
rush of fear. She no longer felt secure in her little
nest. Open as it was to anybody who might chance to
prowl, she yet had always felt safe, for two reasons.
First because there was, in that country, nobody to
prowl, and no reason why they should do anything so
futile; next, because she was protected, day and night,
by a cordon of guards which she had believed impass-
able. Now her conﬁdence was gone. What had be-
come of Mistitch? Why, anybody, if you came to think
of it, might creep under that veranda, among the inky
shadows!
It seemed that she had been protected not, as she had
77.‘


78 THE KING’S WIDOW
supposed, by the ﬁdelity of Mistitch, but merely by her
own insigniﬁcance. She was poor, she was negligible.
Nobody had troubled to molest her.
The moment she tried to rise, to live, to mix again in
the world, a cold hand from a grave in far Dalmeira,
reached out and touched her.
For quite a long time she stood there, her ﬁngers
wrung together, clammy with fear, and glancing long-
ingly at her bed, which seemed to be miles away. Dare
she make a dash?
After what seemed to her a long time, and was really
long enough to make her feet ache, she heard the tramp
of the sentry. It was audible some way off in the in-
tense quiet, and grew very distinct as the guard passed
her windows. There it ceased. Evidently the watch-
man had noticed that behind her blinds she was burning
a light. That was unusual at such an hour. So was the
drawing of the blinds. The steady feet came up the
veranda steps and paused just outside, as though for
the assurance that all was quiet within. She did not
move, but with every second she drank in conﬁdence.
She was not alone, she was not unguarded. When the
man passed on at last she extinguished her lamp and
walked quietly back to bed.
She lay down; but long after the blue glimmer of
dawn showed through the interstices of her reed blinds,
her mind went on hammering at the thought. How had
the message been conveyed?
It must have been done after Nada had left her for
the night, have been done, actually, while she slept.
A servant from the Nordern Embassy had come
overnight to the bungalow. He was the only person
one could possibly suspect. The next thought followed
quickly. The curious way in which the communication
had been placed, established the fact that it came from
the same hand which had arranged its predecessor; for


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 79
she had never described to anyone except King Boris
himself the odd method of attracting her attention
which had been adopted by the unknown letter-carrier.
At this point she felt herself up against a wall of
blank nonsense. The Norderners had brought Theo-
bald on the scenes with the obvious object of making
him her husband. In that case it was, to put it mildly,
folly to imagine that Nordernreich would make the sug- _
gestion that she was not free to marry; since that was
merely to defeat their own purpose.
Must she then return to the hope which had visited
her upon the arrival of the earlier message—the hope
that, by some extraordinary chance, Leonhardt of
Vrelde did still live?
Baron Herluin and his testimony, sure and ﬁnal,
arose before her fancy. Her husband’s death was a
fact. It could not be gainsaid.
It was at this point that she conceived an idea. She
would lay the whole question before an unbiassed per-
son, someone who was outside the scope of political
intrigue, and had no axe to grind. She sometimes sus-
pected even Boris and Rosamond of axe-grinding,
where she was concerned, and she could not blame them.
Kilistria was the main thing in their eyes, and she only
a little pawn. If the pawn can be used to take a bishop
or a castle, so much the better for the game. Such con-
siderations could, however, have no weight with
Humphrey Varley; and she had a high opinion of the
young man’s intelligence.
As she unlocked the small carved box which stood
always beside her bed, and deposited in it, with her
other Pannonian relics, the shabby scrap of paper which
had so agitated her, she determined that, until she had
told all to the Englishman and heard his opinion, she
would keep silence on the subject of her midnight visi-
tor even to Nada, even to Mistitch. Having reached


80 THE KING’S WIDOW
which conclusion, it was not many minutes before she
was fast asleep.
When Nada called her next morning it was hard to
believe that it was not all a dream. Only her maid’s
astonishment at sight of the unrolled sun-blinds con.
ﬁrmed her in believing it to be true.
“The moon came in and bothered me,” said she
vaguely; to which Nada naturally replied :—
“Then why did not you ring for me to draw them
down?”
“Oh I don’t know. I was hot and restless.”
Nada looked anxious. “Perhaps I had better take
your temperature ?”
“No, of course not. I am quite well, only a little
tired. I will stay in bed until second déjeﬁner; and will
you tell Dola to cook a nice one, and to send word to the
palace that Prince Ra and his tutor are to join us? An
invitation for us all came last night from the Embassy,
and I want to tell them about it.”
Varley and his pupil arrived at twelve o’clock and
found her in the hammock. They had ridden to the
railway station at Veros, to see the queen and the little
girls off by train; and had made a wide round, over the
moors on their way back, so they were hungry and
healthily tired. As Evadne had foreseen, the expedi-
tion to Cloister Isle was much to Ra’s taste.
“But you can’t go without me,” said Varley, “and I
don’t think his Highness is likely to desire my com-
pany.”
“Oh, you are expressly and most courteously in-
cluded,” smiled Evadne.
“So? Have they any desire to poison me, do you
think? I shall have a nasty pain after eating lobster,
and succumb to an attack of acute cholera, brought on
by the hot weather and my own imprudence.”
“Now you’re being rude,” said Evadne. “My


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 81
friends are polite to you, and you return evil for good.”
“Unfortunately, the world has been left with the im-
pression that a Nordener is never good if he is strong
enough to be bad with impunity; and never courteous
except for his own ends. Of course, they know that if
they want you to come they must invite your suite.”
“Her suite! I like that!” observed Ra cheekily.
“So you think they want me?” said Evadne de-
murely. “That is quite a change, you know. I hav
been the unnoticed violet for so long.” -
“You might do worse than Theobald, he’s quite a
decent chap,” observed Ra, swinging her hammock to
and fro. “He says there’s grand hunting in the forests
round where he comes from, wild boars! He said he’d
invite me there and show me some sport. I should like
that.”
They were summoned to table at this point, and
Evadne ate so little that Bar-Bar was quite distressed.
“You over-tired yourself yesterday,” said she reproach-
fully, “it was a long, hard day. You must rest all the
afternoon.”
“I’ll stay in the hammock, and Mr. Varley shall read
to Ra and me,” said the princess tractably. “I know
you want to drive over to Veros and call on Madame
Klota, don’t you?” '
“Well, she has just arrived—and we have not met in
years,” began the kind soul, who had scruples about
leaving her princess when she was not well. However,
she was overruled and sent off in the carriage and pair
which she much preferred to a car; while the three left
behind settled down to hear Varley read the “Jungle
Book.”
Now Evadne had craftily sent a message to Mistitch
during the morning, to the effect that she wanted some
employment found for Prince Ra that afternoon. Very
soon, therefore, a message came along, borne by Franz,


82 THE KING’S WIDOW
to the effect that some new ferrets were to be tried im-
mediately in the king’s barn. Human nature could not
resist such an attraction. Mistitch himself was to be
present, and the king’s orders were that Ra was al-
ways to be allowed to go anywhere with the Headman.
Leave was accordingly granted, and the happy boy ran
off, leaving Humphrey and the princess together.
The young man, having lit a pipe at her invitation,
leaned back in his deck chair and contemplated her as
earnestly as he could without staring obviously. A si-
lence fell, and he was about to break it by suggesting
that he would read aloud, since he felt that unless other-
wise occupied he might speak unadvisedly with his lips,
when Evadne began to talk, and what she said was un-
expected.
“I’m about to make a shameless admission. I ar-
ranged on purpose for Ra to be called off because I
want to lay before you a somewhat serious matter. But
before I go on, will you promise solemnly that what I
am about to tell you will never be repeated by you to
anybody, unless I give you leave?”
Varley, conscious of extreme surprise, took out his
pipe and turned to her with grave mouth and twinkling
eyes.
“This is so sudden,” he began, in a voice which made
her smile in spite of herself.
“No, don’t rag,” she threw out pleadingly. “For a
wonder, I am in earnest.”
His look searched her face, and he saw that she was
strung up.
“You really mean that you wish to conﬁde in me ?”
“Yes. The point is, I want an unbiassed opinion.
You see, my nearest and dearest, their majesties, love
me quite sincerely; but they can’t be unbiassed, because
they are political as well as private people—sovereigns
as well as kinsfolk. It is not only obvious, it is quite


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 83
right that, if I lay any difficulty before my brother, he
should think ﬁrst of how it affects his country, and only
in the second place of how it affects his sister. Now I
want to lay some odd facts before you, and I will be
guided by you entirely. If you say I am to tell the king
instantly, why then I will.”
The blood had surged up into Varley’s face. “Are
you sure that I am completely unbiassed?” he asked,
bending to strike a match on the sole of his shoe.
“Of course! That is—I mean that I am sure you
would consider my afIairs from my point of view; that
you would put my interest before any question of politi-
cal expediency.”
“I should certainly put your interest before—any-
thing else,” he responded quietly.
“Very well. Then you undertake to look on this con-
versation as confidential ?”
“I hope you don’t really need assurance on that point.
But I am ready to take a formal oath if you wish. I
am deeply moved by your giving me such a proof of
trust. I will try to deserve it.”
“Well, it’s a long story, so I must begin at the be-
ginning,” said she, turning slightly sideways in the ham-
mock so as to face him. He made no verbal reply, but
turned his own chair towards her, and sat with his arms
on his knees, his gaze on the tiles of the veranda ﬂoor.
“Since you have now been more than two years in
Kilistria, I may take it for granted you have heard that
I was to have married Leonhardt of Vrelde ?”
“I knew that very well,” was the instant answer.
knew it before I came to Kilistria; from Leonhardt
himself.”
“What 1” She was so surprised that she raised her-
self upon her elbow to see if he meant what he said.
“You knew him? Oh, why did you never tell me so
before?”
u]:


84 THE KING’S WIDOW
“When I ﬁrst arrived in Kilistria, I was told that you
had never got over the shock of his death. Was it
likely I should open a topic which would distress you?”
“Distress me? Then you did not like him?”
“On the contrary, I thought him a ﬁrst-rate man.
Most unusual.”
“But how did you come to know him?”
“He was at Christchurch with me. But I knew him
before then. He and I were both at Eton and Oxford.
I knew him rather well at the House. In fact, he
wanted me to come out to Pannonia with him when he
went to take possession of his throne.”
“But you did not go?”
“No. It happened that I was not free at the time.
My elder brother was ill, and my father would not con-
sent to my leaving England. I did intend to go later,
but as you know, in a very few weeks it was too late.”
She sighed. “Too late! Did you ever see his great
friend, Michael Ferolitz ?”
“I saw him once. He came over to England one
summer. But they were staying with royalties, and I
only met them casually at a theatre one night. They
were rather alike, you know, same build, same height,
both of them with that charming manner—a mixture
of modesty and self reliance. _Oh, Leonhardt was a
man who might have done great things! There is very
little doubt that he was assassinated because the Cen-
tral Powers wanted him out of the way. They thought
he would grow too strong.”
“You think that?” she cried eagerly. “You believe
that it was Nordernreich ?”
“In England they have always thought so—and on
better grounds than hearsay.”
“I wish I had consulted you before,” she repeated
wistfully.
“I have sometimes come very near telling you that I


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 85
knew him. But if one is in doubt it is usually best, at
Court, to hold one’s tongue.”
“What would you say—would it surprise you—to
know that Leonhardt and I were actually married?”
He looked up with a start. “Married? I thought
—I was told—I understood—that you had never
met?”
“We were married by proxy,” she answered, with an
access of colour. “Count Ferolitz came over, and the
ceremony took place in our private chapel at Gailima,
at midnight. It was very curious. The count and I had
to pass the rest of the night in the same room, with an
audience of people and an armed guard. Such a queer
experience! There had never been a proxy marriage
in Kilistria since the ﬁfteenth century, but they looked
up all the quaint old records—”
Varley marvelled. “How could such a thing be kept
secret ?”
“My brother was very anxious to have it kept secret.
He only yielded to the idea on the persuasion of his
great friend the Grand Duke of Marvilion, who agreed
with Leonhardt that it was desirable. Mistitch and the
Forest Guard are all splendid fellows, king’s men to the
death, and sworn by our quaint old oath to fealty and
silence. The ceremony was performed in order to
checkmate Nordernreich; and if the murder had been
postponed even one week, I suppose,” she lowered her
eyelids, “that it might have succeeded.”
“But you say there was an audience?”
“My brother and his wife, the Grand Duke and
Duchess of Marvilion, and my dear old Bar-Bar. No-
body else knew, except the Metropolitan.”
Humphrey looked up suddenly, and contemplated
her. “What a pair you would have made—you and
he! Both so courageous and so unconventional!”
“So Raoul of Marvilion used to say. He believed


86 THE KING’S WIDOW
we were made for each other. But I must get on with
my tale.”
“By all means-—but just let me say that, keenly
though I am interested in any affair of yours, the fact
that this concerns Leonhardt also, makes it yet more
absorbing.”
The princess sat up in the hammock and took a box
from the table near her. Varley pushed her a foot-
stool, and she sat thus, leaning forward so that no word
might be overheard, while she told the story of the two
messages and showed him the morsels of paper upon
which they were scrawled.
“Now,” said she at the conclusion, “what do you
think?”
Varley rose, and walked twice up and down the ve-
randa before giving his opinion.
“Wild though it sounds, it seems to me that these
notes must come from Leonhardt himself. Think a lit-
tle. The ﬁrst message reached you soon after his re-
puted death, as soon as practicable, doubtless. Then
came the European war, and even had he been able to
take action he could not do so then, since everyone else,
including the Grand Duke of Marvilion, was fully oc-
cupied otherwise. Now there is peace. Now a new
suitor presents himself before you. At once you are
again warned that you are not free to marry. These
warnings are plainly from the same hand. That hand
must, it seems to me, be that of your husband.”
“Then tell me, I implore you, why, if he can send a
message, he cannot come himself?”
“It is difﬁcult to say for certain, but one may conjec-
ture that he is, and has all this time, been a prisoner.”
“Oh! Oh! A prisoner! As you say, what more
likely? But how could we ﬁnd out?”
“We must ascertain how those messages have


VARLEY RECEIVES A CONFIDENCE 87
reached you. If we ﬁnd the messenger we shall Obtain
the information we want.”
“But how can we ﬁnd him? How? I worried over
it last night until I felt my head would split.”
Varley ﬂung himself once more into his chair,
propped his square chin on his ﬁsts and reﬂected. “I
feel strongly tempted to try a little Sherlock Holmes on
my own,” said he.
(‘Oh I”
“Could anyone elude the vigilance of the guard, do
you think? I cannot resist the conclusion that the mes-
senger must himself be a member of the band. When
the ﬁrst note came through, at Orlenthal, can you re-
member what men were down there? You always have
an escort, don’t you?”
“Yes. Six of them always go to Orlenthal with me.
In fact, six of them are always there, to keep the place
in order and look after the game and so on. Mistitch
was with us; I remember that, because, most vexa-
tiously, he was away on the king’s business on the exact
day when it happened.”
“Your maid was away, and Mistitch was away?
Then the person who did it must have known pretty
exactly when to seize the moment?”
“I never thought of that.”
“The more I think of it, the more I feel certain that
it must be somebody whose comings and goings are un-
questioned.”
“You know there was an embassy servant here last
night?”
“I know. But I think we may put him out of our
minds. He would be duly locked outside the gates by
Franz, would he not?”
“What of that horrid waiter who sneaked round
here into the garden the other day?”


CHAPTER IX
THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR
UCH an adventure as he planned to attempt was
exactly of the kind to appeal to Humphrey Var-
ley in his present mood.
He felt all the restlessness, the craving for some-
thing to stop thought, which is the portion of the man
or woman who loves hopelessly.
To run some risk in the service of the beloved, is
perhaps the nearest one may approach to mitigation of
suffering.
In fact, the risk was real enough; for what Varley
contemplated was to run the gauntlet of the Forest
Guard—a thing impossible for most people, and difﬁ-
cult even for one who, like himself, was completely
trusted by the Headman.
Should he be discovered, prowling about the prin-
cess’s bungalow at night, it would be by no means easy
to make out a case for himself; since Mistitch was not
likely to be in any sense placated by being told that the
tutor distrusted his vigilance, and wanted to test it for
himself.
After a good deal of thought, he decided, in view of
his inexperience, to start by testing his own powers as a
tracker. If he could without detection follow one of
the guard through the woods, on his way home when
released from duty, a ﬁrst tentative step would have
been taken.
The guard was always changed, an hour before mid-
89


90 THE KING’S WIDOW
night, at a place Varley knew well. He decided to post
himself among the forest trees quite near, to select one
of the sentinels relieved, and to follow the man home.
Should he be detected at some distance from the bunga-
low, and walking away from it, the results could not be
serious. He would merely have to explain that he had
lost his way, and ask to be directed back to the palace.
He knew all the workings of the guard well enough
to decide that he had better wear a pair of the regula-
tion boots, stamped with the Red Swan; there were in
the boot-room at F lore'mar a pair belonging to the king,
which the tutor took the liberty of borrowing.
His own freedom of action was so perfect and so
unchallenged, that he had no difﬁculty in leaving the
palace unseen, nor in making his way to the place he
had in mind. There was a sentry at that very spot, and
by waiting at a respectful distance until the man was at
the end of his beat, and then creeping forward to his
post of observation, he installed himself quite unde-
tected. When the sentry came back he saw that it was
Anton, a young, handsome forester, to whom Prince
‘Ra was rather especially attached. Varley decided at
once to use him as his test case, since he felt sure of his
friendly attitude towards himself, should he fail in his
bit of detective work.
The relief party soon appeared, and Anton, punc-
tually released, went off at once, walking at such a rapid
pace that for some time Humphrey’s preoccupation was
not so much to follow unheard as to keep him in sight
at all.
He began to think he had chosen his quarry badly.
Anton evidently lived at some distance, and was as evi-
dently in a mortal hurry to get home. After dashing
through the woods, following more or less the line of
the shore for a considerable distance, he struck up in-
land, moving along a very obscure and winding


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 91
track. There was plenty of covert, and the night was
so dark that Varley had a comparatively easy job. Once
indeed he trod upon a bough, which emitted a crack
like a whip; and Anton whisked round, riﬂe to shoulder
in a moment. But Humphrey had the presence of mind
to remain absolutely still, and in the dense shadow he
was invisible. The danger was passed.
At the end of half an hour or more, they were out on
Kyriel Moor, and in the open it was harder. They tra-
versed some extremely rough ground, and he was so
afraid of coming too close, that he almost lost sight of
his man.
Just as he was fearing that he had actually done so,
he found that the path turned sharp to the left, and the
roar of a waterfall became audible.
Anton was ahead, ascending a mountain path which
followed the left side of a torrent rushing down from
the high moor above. The path was well deﬁned and
not diﬂicult. On its right was the water, on its left a
belt of ﬁrs and larches raised on a bank.
The amateur sleuth-hound had now plenty of covert,
and moreover the rushing of water to drown any chance
sound he might make.
Anton was whistling as he went up. The tune he-
whistled was one dimly familiar to Varley, but he could
not put a name to it, for he was not musical, and tunes
made but a confused impression upon his mind.
Halfway up, the young guard stopped suddenly quite
still, whistling a few bars very clearly and piercingly;
after which he waited as though listening. If he ex-
pected a reply, he was disappointed. All was perfectly
silent, and he went on. It was considerably past mid-
night when a bright beam of light, shining down the
glen, showed that they were approaching a habitation.
This was evidently where Anton lived, for he went in
without knocking. Humphrey paused, and sat down to


92 THE KING’S WIDOW
reflect awhile, for he was puzzled. The Kilistrian peas-
ant as a rule uses no artiﬁcial light. The Englishman
knew quite enough of the country to be aware that,
when Mistitch or Niklaus came off duty, he would en-
ter his home in the dark, grope on the wooden table for
the “piece”-—a big, clumsy sandwich of bread and meat
—left out for him—pass on to his chamber and creep
into bed beside his wife without troubling to make a
light at all.
Now the substantial cottage at which he was staring
—though it stood in the glen, the black belt of trees
behind outlined its shape clearly for him—was not only
lit, but brilliantly lit. Light was streaming out from
no fewer than four windows, two below and two above.
There was something so unusual about this that it
set his suspicions working. a
From the moment when Evadne told him of the as-
tounding fact that her room had actually been entered,
he had been convinced that treachery in the guard itself
was the only explanation. Here was a fact, in connection
with a member of that trusted body, which puzzled
him more than enough. He believed it was his duty to
obtain a glimpse of the interior of this cottage. The
lights furnished an entirely sufﬁcient excuse for his
knocking and begging to be shown his way back to
Florémar. He waited where he was for some minutes,
during which time all the lights burned on steadily.
Then he went up to the door and knocked smartly.
He was not kept waiting a moment. The door flew
open as if he had been eagerly expected. Just within
stood a girl—a Kilistrian peasant girl, wearing the na-
tional costume—but of a beauty really remarkable.
Her night-black hair framed a face of which the com-
plexion seemed to him flawless. Her eyes were pools
of soft depth, her lips—he had never seen lips quite
like them.


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 93
Yet her beauty at the moment was not the obvious
thing about her, but her terror. As she opened the
door she had worn a beaming smile, which froze on her
lips as she confronted the stranger. She fell back a
pace, completely disordered; and cried out a few words
in a language to him unknown. Certainly not Kilistrian.
Instantly a door opened, showing a glimpse of a kit-
chen within. A woman entered, like the girl in dress
and face, but twice her age. Her beauty and dignity
were as striking as those of the girl so evidently her
daughter. She was pale, but showed no fear, ﬁxing a
reproving eye upon the girl’s panic.
“Good evening, sir,” said she in Kilistrian. “What
can we do for you ?”
Humphrey explained that he had lost his way; and,
seeing the lights had ventured to knock and ask for a
direction. She looked at him a little vaguely, as if she
did not understand; which wasv galling, as he was
rather proud of his colloquial command of the lan-
guage. After hesitating a moment, she said “Come
in.” Then, turning to her daughter, “Beruna, fetch
your brother.”
Beruna ran swiftly out of the room, and her mother
went and stood in the open doorway. She leaned out
into the night before closing the door as if she wished
to make sure that no one else was there. Varley made
use of the moment to glance around the room, which
seemed comfortably furnished and oddly well provided
with books for a peasant’s dwelling.
The beautiful woman brought forward a chair and
motioned that the visitor should take a seat. He had
often heard people say that the Kilistrian mountain
population were all gentlefolk, but had never seen so
striking an example as this of the truth of the saying.
Anton walked in almost at once, from the kitchen,
hands washed and hair brushed. He wore, as he en-


94 THE KING’S WIDOW
tered, a curious mask-like stiffness; his expression
changing instantly upon sight of the visitor.
“A—a—ah 1” He took a long breath of relief.
“Mother, this is the Englishman who is attached to
the person of our princel”
Humphrey, hardly knowing why, arose and bowed
upon the introduction. Anton’s mother very slightly
inclined her head in acknowledgment.
Varley hastened to explain that he had lost his way,
and Anton translated what he said to his mother in an
unknown tongue. She seemed relieved to hear who he
was, but just as evidently she was still on the defensive.
Anton glanced at her, and some interchange of ideas
seemed to pass between them without words. He took
up his cap with decision.
“You will not easily ﬁnd your way from this point.
I will come out with you and put you on your road.”
“Nothing of the kind,” protested Varley, who knew
exactly where he was. “You are only just off duty, and
must want your supper ”
“How do you know I am just oﬂ duty?” sharply.
Varley hastened to cover his slip.
“Why, I know the guard changes at eleven; and I
guessed that your lamp was lit to guide you up the
glen.” So saying, he turned to say farewell to his
hostess; but she lifted her hand with a digniﬁed ges-
ture, and said to her son in her slow Kilistrian—“We
cannot let the gentleman go all that way back without
supper.”
Varley’s heart leapt. He wanted badly to see
Beruna again. But Anton was not hospitably' inclined.
“This gentleman can have all he wants at the palace,
and it is very late. He had better get back without
delay.”
Varley’s reluctance to go increased every moment at
the sight of the younger man’s evident determination


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 95'
to get rid of him. Realising, however, that any hesi-
tation on his part might arouse suspicion, he took a
courteous leave of his hostess; and saw the strain in her
eyes relax as she bade him farewell.
Anton, picking up his gun, opened the door leading
into the kitchen. He was taking no risk of awkward
encounters. But he was not so clever as he thought
himself. In the kitchen was Beruna, at the table, which
was laid for supper. As the two men entered, she
seemed to whisk something from the tablecloth, and ran
to the door of an open cupboard, either taking some-
thing out, or putting something in.
Varley at once glanced at the table. It was in truth
laid for three only; but Anton’s blundering had not
given his sister time to do the thing thoroughly; for
there were four chairs; and in front of one of them
there still lay a square piece of bread on the otherwise
bare cloth.
Beruna’s lovely head, outlined against the lime-
washed wall of the clean place, was tilted at an angle
suggestive of deﬁance. Her eyes and Humphrey’s met.
She had seen his glance sweep everything—the table,
the chair, the things in her hands. Her lips were nearly
white, but she spoke with a bold voice.
“Must you go? I was just setting a place for you.”
As he replied with a polite disclaimer, he saw Anton
ﬂash a glance of approval of her quickness. It hurt
him. They were plotting right enough—concealing
something. It was odious that two such fine creatures
should be concerned in some piece of dirty work.
He found himself out in the night once more, Anton
beside him, and assured him courteously that he was
well able to get home if directed.
“No,” contradicted Anton bluntly. “You cannot, un-
less I put you on the road.”
“You live a long way from your work,” said


96 THE KING’S wmow.
Humphrey pleasantly, when they had gone some way
in silence.
“Houses are scarce,” was the curt reply.
“How long have you been enrolled in the guard?”
“About twelve months.”
This was a disappointing reply. The notion that
this young man had been concerned in the transmission
of the earlier message, must be abandoned. Yet Var-
ley was certain that he had in this accidental manner
stumbled upon some kind of plot.
The inhabitants of this secret spot were expecting a
visitor. If he had to wait all night he meant to know
who it was.
Anton, very silent, tramped on for half a mile. Had
he taken the trouble to converse he might better have
lured away the mind of his companion from the fact
that they were winding in and out for no better reason
than to confuse the sense of direction. This was quite
useless, for Humphrey was perfectly aware of it, and
as soon as Anton dropped him was ready to run straight
back.
“There’s a track here,” said the guide, halting at
last. “It’s downhill all the way, and brings you out on
the carriage road, not far from the Moor Gate. I
think you’ll find it without difficulty.”
Waiting neither for thanks nor leave-taking, he
swung on his heel and was off. Humphrey walked on
with every appearance of purpose until he was out of
sight. Then he stopped, turned back, and ran as fast
as the nature of the ground permitted, back to the belt
of ﬁr trees which sheltered the upward path upon the
side not bounded by the torrent.
He remembered the exact point at which Anton had
stopped and whistled. On reflection he felt sure that
somewhere near the spot the path was joined by an-
other track, leading more directly up from the lake


THE HOUSE ON KYRIEL MOOR 97
shore. By that path the expected guest should come-—
and if, as was likely, he had already passed, then Var-
ley meant to lie in wait in the woods all night if need
be, that he might see him as he came back again.
All was Very still as he reached this particular point;
and he ventured to scramble down upon the path itself,
to see if he could ﬁnd footprints. Just as he did so, he
heard a sound—a faint whistling. Quickly he realised
that the tune was the same which he had heard from
Anton, and that the performer was ascending rapidly
towards the place where he now stood.
He bolted up into the cover of the wood as fast and
as silently as he could. This was astonishing luck.
Something had probably detained the conspirator, who
must be nearly an hour late at his appointment.
The whistling grew nearer and clearer. In a very
few minutes a man came out upon the path; a man who
moved with a deft quietness, and with astonishing ease,
considering that he carried a bag in his hand. The
light was dim, but as he emerged from the small track
which he had been ascending, up to the one which ran
beside the torrent, the beams of light from the cottage
window fell upon his face, and, as he was without a hat,
one could see that he was y0ungish, and that he wore a
small dark moustache. He appeared to be in evening
dress; and Humphrey’s mind leaped to its conclusion.
The waiter!
He himself had never seen the person in question;
but the princess had told him that the man who tres-
passed in her veranda was the same man who was wait-
ing at the Kron Prinz hotel.
Who but a waiter would be walking in evening dress
up the bed of a mountain torrent, at this hour of the
night?
He crouched in his hiding-place watching him pass,
saw the door open to admit him, and close again at


98 THE KING’S WIDOW
once. Almost immediately thick curtains were drawn
within the house, and the light which had ﬁltered down
the glen was cut off.
Varley felt for his torch, which was in his pocket.
Armed with this, he let himself down once more upon
the pathway, and stooping to the ground, studied care-
fully the footprints, which showed clearly upon the de-
posits of damp soil which lay over most of the rocky
surface.
All the boots which had made the ascent that night
bore the imprint of the Red Swan.
The new detective felt that his debut had not been
without interest.


CHAPTER X
THE CLOISTER ISLE
HE day which preceded the moonlight picnic
was breathlessly hot. It seemed as though the
heat must break in thunder; but still the sky remained
cloudless, and the far end of the lake shimmered in
purple haze.
Theobald had never in his life felt so anxious about
anything as he was for the success of his entertainment.
Glanzingfors gave him his head, and allowed him to
make the arrangements as lavish as he chose. Nor-
dernreich does not as a rule spoil the ship for want of
that ha’porth of tar which, since the time of the Ar-
mada, the British Government always so notoriously
grudges.
Von Reulenz did not altogether share in the lover’s
rosy anticipations. He hoped that Theobald had made
an impression; but the stubborn nature of the secrecy
which wrapt Evadne at the Water Gate was worrying
him a little. He knew Rosmer to be a ﬁrst-class spy,
but Rosmer had declared himself to be so far quite un-
able to get behind the scenes at the bungalow. Time
after time, and in more than one disguise, the spy had
gone forth to reconnoitre. But, according to his own
account, without the very least success. He had, it is
true, been entertained in the kitchen, but had wormed
nothing out of Mistitch or Franz. Only the previous
night he had been out for hours—von Reulenz knew,
» for he had sat up to admit him to the hotel between
Slgﬁco
90


100 THE KING’S WIDOW
three and four in the morning, but had returned baf-
fled at every point.
Theobald frankly expressed the opinion that Ros-
mer, as a spy, was not worth a cent. Von Reulenz
knew better. To his mind there was something sinister
in the completeness of the cordon surrounding the
princess. He felt that something must be brewing, and
raged at the mere thought that the Nordern embassy
might be unconsciously making itself useful, to mask
designs which were perhaps nearing completion. It
was obvious that if Nordernreich wished to make cer-
tain of Pannonia, she must step in at once. A laden
fruit-tree does not stand long undisturbed in an orchard
of which the walls have been broken down.
The attache, whose mind was acute, though limited,
hoped much from this evening’s entertainment. If
Evadne fell in love with Theobald, he believed that po-
litical intrigues might go to the deuce as far as she was
concerned. He charged Rosmer straitly to ascertain
the true state of affairs.
Rosmer—or Woronz, as he called himself—was sent
off to the Cloister Isle in the early afternoon with a
staff of waiters, in one of the steam launches, to make
ready the banquet, with all the necessary viands, fairy
lights, flowers, ice-cream and champagne.
The other diners at the Kron Prinz that evening had
a thin time, in the absence of the invaluable Woronz,
and the evident lack of interest taken by the chef in
their dinner. They had only the consolation of as-
sembling in groups on the terrace, in hopes of obtaining
a glimpse of the royalties when they should arrive.
Nine o’clock was the hour appointed, and very soon
after the motor set down the four of them at the door
of the hotel, where they were welcomed by Theobald
and the Princess Glanzingfors, in a state of exuberant
cordiality.


102 THE KING’S WIDOW
procured from one of the lake-side hotels. It was called
the Abbess, and its passengers consisted only of the
Princess Evadne ano Bar-Bar, with Prince Theobald,
his aide-de-camp von Jott, and young von Reulenz.
As they were embarking, the sound of oars lapping
the calm water came to their ears, and a little boat
drew up, in which sat Mistitch and Anton of the Forest
Guard.
Gripping one of the chains with his mutton ﬁst, Mi-
stitch called out to know who was navigating the
launches.
Rastitch had procured the best and most experienced
engineers he could ﬁnd, and the replies evidently set the
old man’s mind at rest.
“It is good, Excellency,” said he, addressing himself
to Glanzingfors, who seemed a little inclined to resent
his freedom, “Edor is a good man, and so is Stemkieﬂ.
I rowed over to give one word of warning from an old
dog who knows this lake as a fox knows his earth.
There is thunder coming out of the north. Last week’s
rains have swollen the Inza River, so that the Cloister
Current is running to-night with unusual force. If the
wind gets up, that current would sweep away any boat
like a straw. Let your navigators keep clear of it—-
which is quite easy to do—and all is right.”
Stemkieﬂ leaned over the gunwale of the big launch
and told him the course he meant to steer, which met
with unqualiﬁed approval.
“Could not be better! Keep to that, and you are as
safe as if you were on shore! And so, let the distin-
guished company accept my apology, remembering that
I am responsible to his majesty for the safety of his
family.”
“Three cheers for the old water-dog!” cried some-
body, and the cheers were merrily given, Mistitch tak-


THE CLOISTER ISLE 103
ing off his red stocking cap from his bush of hair, and
wishing them a delightful evening.
Anton had also left the boat, after securing it to a
ring. He was standing close to Varley upon the land-
ing steps.
“I hope, sir,” said the young man in a clear and car-
rying voice, “that you found your way home all right
last night, after I left you?”
Varley started, and his'start was visible, though in-
stantly controlled.
“Thanks, Anton, yes. I’m afraid you were late for
supper,” he replied, coolly enough.
“What’s that?” boomed Mistitch; and Anton an-
swered:
“The English quality lost his way last night, and
found himself at our cottage, out on Kyriel Moor.”
“Yes,” said Varley, who was lighting his cigarette
from von Reulenz’s, “and Anton’s mother offered me
supper, but he hustled me off without allowing me to
stay. I’ve not forgotten that, Anton. I shall come for
that supper, one of these nights.”
“It will be an honour, sir,” said the young man
promptly. “May we expect you one night next week?”
“With all my heai-t,” replied Humphrey. Across
his memory ﬂitted the picture of Beruna’s face, and the
apprehension in her eyes. He would like to see that
face again, with its distrust wiped out of it.
“Do you loaf about the forest much at night?”
asked von Reulenz in an off-hand fashion.
“Never,” laughed Humphrey, “I am too fond of
my bed. It was the unusual heat which drove me out
last night. Well Anton, shall we say next Tuesday?”
Anton assented, as if well pleased, and Varley
stepped into the launch, which set off immediately.
As they left the quay, he caught Mistitch’s eye bent
upon him in concentrated scrutiny. Searching for a


THE CLOISTER ISLE 105
Varley had plenty of food for surmise. His suspi-
cion had been correct.’ The man who had trespassed
upon the veranda was in secret communication with one
of the Forest Guard. Yet the mind could furnish a
somewhat obvious explanation of the young waiter’s
excursion to Kyriel Moor—it might be just a love-
affair with the keeper’s sister?
At supper,he watched the Pole narrowly. He moved
silently to and fro like an automaton, his eyes upon his
work; and Humphrey wondered why the man roused
in him some impulse of dislike or resentment. Now
that his attention was alert, he had the impression that
this was the mask of a man, and that behind him there
lay in ambush something altogether different, some-
thing dangerous. He felt antagonism, as of one up
against strength, evil strength. Without going through
any mental process, his instinct armed itself to resist.
As Woronz moved with his dishes and plates silently
and deftly among the guests, there was in him some-
thing ruthless, like the swift rush of the panther
through jungle grass, mufﬂed, but horribly purposeful.
Evadne, too, as she sat at supper, was in much the
same way obsessed with the idea of the man.
They supped in a part of the cloisters which still re-
tained its rooﬁng, and the trefoil arches had been out-
lined with strings of tiny lamps, burning steadily in
_the windless air. The tables, too, were dotted with
them. But for the moonlight, this was the only light
they had; and Theobald felt as though the dusk threw
a delicate screen between his passion and the glare of
day, wrapping himself and Evadne in an impenetrable
privacy.
To Evadne on the contrary, the proximity of the
spy was so vivid and so unpleasant that Theobald was
of secondary importance. The man was an excellent
waiter, contriving always so to put things down or take


106 THE KING'S WIDOW
them up as never to brush the guest he was serving. Yet
Evadne felt always that he was too close, that he was
pressing against her—that he was coming nearer and
nearer as a snake may fascinate a rabbit. It was a
repugnance she could not explain, but which drove her
to the verge of fear.
With a resolve not to let herself be dominated by
a foolish notion she flung herself into the conversation
at table, and found with a start that they were talking
of Pannonia.
Theobald asked: “Is it really true, this story of
the smuggling of arms?”
General Helso spread out his great hands. “It
would appear so. I said to the Foreign Secretary only
last month. ‘Pannonia is too quiet. When they begin
to drop their voices you may bet your life they are in
mischief.’ Just like that I said it.”
“And are they in mischief?” asked Evadne swiftly.
“No doubt of the fact. The only doubt is as to the
extent of it. Of course we know where the arms come
from.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, indeed! The Marvilion Swashbuckler sup-
plies them. He has a mind to be king not only of Mar-
vilion and Lascania, but of Pannonia too it seems;
and then where will your brother come in, Lady
Evadne ?”
“But Kilistria,” said Glazingfors in his most honied
tones, “is the good friend of Nordernreich. Nordern-
reich will not suffer her ally to be crushed between the
hammer and the anvil of The Swashbuckler.”
“We must decide quickly upon the right ruler for
Pannonia,” pursued the general, bending towards
Evadne and beaming brotherly kindness. “If not a
Kilistrian, then married to a Kilistrian—m'cht wahr?”
“How unselﬁsh is the policy of Nordernreich,” re-


108 THE KING’S WIDOW
He showed, however, no slightest perturbation, but
raised his glass. “We drink our toast as the lady gives
it,” said he coldly. “To the king’s return!”
He was the only member of the embassy who raised
his glass to his lips; but Theobald stood up bravely
and spoke out the words boldly, like a challenge. He
had no objection at all to toasting what seemed to him
the impossible. He would, moreover, have toasted
the evil one himself at Evadne’s bidding.
As Evadne raised her glass to her lips, she caught,
as by a mischievous fate, the eye of Stepan the waiter,
ﬁxed upon her as he stood facing her, among the
shadows.
It was but for an instant that their glances en-
countered; but that instant gave her the solution of her
riddle. She knew why she feared the man—sensed
it as plainly as if he had spoken—met and understood
his naked thought. It was nature’s instinctive warn-
ing of danger. He meant murder.
Amazed indeed would the guests who drank or
failed to drink her wild toast have been, had they
known the thought in her mind at the moment. It
was that, so long as this man was anywhere in the
neighbourhood, she dared not spend the night in her
bungalow. She formed the intention of telling Bar-
Bar that she was coming up to Florémar in future,
every night.


CHAPTER XI
A ROYAL WOOING
0 say that history repeats itself may be plati-
tudinous, but remains true, notwithstanding.
When King Henry of England gave to Captain Fitz-
stephen- permission to escort the heir to the throne
home from France in the White Ship, he neglected the
very necessary precaution of limiting the champagne,
or its twelfth century equivalent. Prince Glanzing-
fors might have thought upon this story, for he was
an able man, and cautious.
It was natural enough that the good Rastitch, in
enlarging to his guests upon the beauties of the Cloister
Isle, should have said but little of the danger of the
currents, since he was sure that the picnic party would
not encounter them. .
The ambassador complained afterwards that he had
not been sufficiently warned. He had many things to
consider, chief among which was the troubling, be-
cause elusive, personality of the Princess Evadne.
Ever since his ﬁrst glimpse of her the astute old man
had been convinced that she was well worth the ex-
penditure of money, time and trouble.
While preserving always his curious national opin-
ion of the inferiority, even the servitude of woman,
he was far too clever to undervalue the inﬂuence which
such a woman as Evadne might exert, not merely upon
a lover, but upon the politics of all such countries as
she might be connected with.
109


110 THE KING’S WIDOW
He had begun the evening with the happiest antici-
pations. He had no doubt of Theobald’s feeling, and
very little of the lady’s. The toast she had given
awoke, however, all the lurking suspicions with which
he had come into the country three months ago.
Stories which he would have dismissed as idle rumours
came home now to memory with deep signiﬁcance. He
felt as if Nordernreich were playing the game with
bandaged eyes. What did Evadne mean? Was it
just nothing at all but a girl’s caprice, a girl’s love of
mystiﬁcation? Or was it possible that he, the repre-
sentative of great Nordernreich, was being made a
fool of? He sat ruminating over various unpleasant
possibilities; and meanwhile, the object of his solici-
tude was wandering away somewhere in Theobald’s
company, among the romantic ruins. '
The entranced prince was moving through a land
of faery, with the lady of his dreams.
The moon shone through the tracery of the rose
window in the western wall of the abbey, and showed
the recumbent alabaster eﬂigy of the last abbess, that
unfortunate lady who, having embarked with her
nuns to cross the lake and meet the bishop one stormy
night, was caught in the Cloister Current and lost. The
boat and all its inmates had drifted to destruction in
the jaws of the terrible Loophole Rock.
These old stories sounded impressive enough when
she related them.
The moon shone in the star-powdered heaven, its
radiance unbroken except for a low bank of clouds in
the north-east, where summer lightning played ﬁtfully
and whence the low growl of thunder was faintly
heard from time to time.
Theobald left nothing undone to secure the undis-
turbed society of the princess. He told off von Jott and
von Reulenz to keep Prince Ra so busy over climbing,


A ROYAL WOOING 1 1 l
or something equally dangerous, that his tutor’s whole
attention would be required. The two young Glanzing-
fors ladies sat neglected with the chaperons- the whole
evening. This was however no new thing in their ex-
perience, and they hardly resented it. Marriage in
their eyes was a matter of arrangement. Husbands
would of course be provided for them sooner or later.
The serious part of life was politics. Theobald and
Evadne were politics. They recognised their prepon-
derant importance. Neither of them was any use in
the game. They could not have detained Mr. Varley
ﬁve minutes with the charm of their conversation or
appearance.
Theobald and Evadne rested on a bit of mossy wall,
where maidenhair grew wild in the clefts. They sat
facing south, gazing over the lake without a ripple,
whose shores lay lost in velvet darkness; at the twink-
ling lights which showed where Veros lay; and to the
left Of that, the ring of less frequent lights which
marked the little scattered “plages” upon the south-
eastern curve of the coast.
It has been said that the Karneru See resembles a
pear in shape, with the wide end southward. The
Cloister Isle lies a long way north, where the lake has
begun to narrow, and the distance is but four or ﬁve
miles from shore to shore. Just to the north of the
isle the eastern margin of the lake is precipitous, and
cut by the violent waters of the Inza River which
rushes down vehemently, foaming and seething after
its descent from the mountains of Marvilion. Quite
near the spot where the Inza debouches there is a
powerful spring rising in the bed of the lake; and this
is caught up by the entering waters of the river, com-
bining to form the dangerous rapid known as the
Cloister Current, which streams past the northern end
of the isle, rushing on a western course. About half-


112 THE KING’S WIDOW
way between the isle and the western shore of the
lake the violence of the current is broken, but its
danger much increased, by a few jagged peaks of rock
which lie right in its course, and are known as the
Loophole.
The reason for this name is obvious enough; for the
curious barrier is shaped like an irregular crescent,
split down the centre of its back, or perhaps more like
the letter C with a small bit cut out of it behind. The
northern half of the Cloister Current plunges into this
place as into the open claws of a pair of pincers.
The outlet being extremely narrow, the water makes
its exit, even in calm weather, with terriﬁc force; and
when the Inza is swollen with spate, or driven by a
north-east -wind, it rushes through like a mill-race.
Just outside there lie in wait jagged teeth of rock,
set like saws about or just below the water level. No
case is on record of boat or man having passed safely
through the Loophole.
When they had looked their ﬁll towards the' south,
Evadne made Theobald look round, and pointed out
the legend-haunted place, relating the story of the last
abbess and her nuns. The only trace ever found of
these ill-fated ladies was a broken oar washed up in a
little semicircular bay on the western side of the lake.
Theobald was a little inclined to scoff.
“The place must have been much wilder then, the
water much more turbulent. Look at it now! A
duckpondl”
The moon which shone white upon the gaunt walls
of the Loophole, silvered the water beneath, and at
that distance the strength of the tide which flowed
past was hardly discernible. All looked as peaceful
as a sleeping child.
The princess laughed.
“It isn’t always a duckpond,” said she. “You


A ROYAL WOOING 113
haven’t seen our little lake in a temper yet. If this
thunder comes, you may get a chance to-morrow; but
I don’t think it will come to-night.”
“Mistitch thought it would.”
“Yes, but listen! It has been thundering over there
in the mountains so long, it will have spent itself before
it reaches us.”
“Let us hope so. I don’t want this, the most perfect
day of my life, to end in storm.” She made no reply,
but continued her occupation of mingling some fronds
of the wild maidenhair with the bouquet at her breast.
In the silver light, her ﬁngers looked like ivory. “I’m
thinking,” he went on, “that this day is like life. I
awoke this morning with the delight of anticipation.
This was to be the great day; and through its long
hours I have been preparing for the best moments——
and the realisation, now that it has come, is so cruelly
short! It will be over before it has well begun! . . .
Do you know what I mean?”
“You mustn’t talk like that, nor remind me of the
shortness of joy. It isn’t natural. The young ought
to live in the present—to seize their moment, ought
they not?”
“Seize the moment?” cried Theobald, on ﬁre. “Is
that your advice? Do you mean that? I feared that
we had hardly begun to know each other ”
“Of course not!” Evadne fairly gasped. “I meant
nothing of the kind. I tell you to enjoy the present,
and you pretend to think I am advising you to antici-
pate the future!”
“Anticipate! Ah, Evadnel” said Theobald; and
the note in his voice warned her that she was playing
with real ﬁre. '
She shook her head.
“No! It is not ‘Evadne’ yet. I do not even know
if it ever will be. This is just nothing but our chance


A ROYAL WOOIN G 1 15
are also minutes when I fancy I could only know real
happiness, living in my lowly bungalow, with a man
I loved, and working a little farm.”
Theobald sat silent for some moments. Then he
ventured:
“We might do both, might we not?”
“One,” she replied, “would be real life. The other
only playing at it. Which is which, I wonder?”
“For you, the wider, fuller life must be the truer!
The retirement would come now and then, for rest
and recreation. But you were born for a throne, if
ever a woman was.”
She laughed.
“Oh, but the world is full of misfits! There are
women living round here—peasant women—who are
like Roman empresses in appearance and in manner;
and haven’t you often met a duchess who was simply
created to keep a chandler’s shop and add up her hus-
band’s ledgers?”
“True. But now and then things do come right.
Once in a way a real queen sits upon a throne; and,”
he dropped his voice—“a royal marriage is really a
love-marriage.”
“So I once thought,” she murmured, under her
breath. “So I once thought, but it all came to noth-
ing—and my life is empty.”
“Come! This talk is too grave! You advise me
to live in the present; you forbid me to anticipate the
future; and you dare to regret the past, under my very
nose!”
She raised her face with a little laugh of apprecia-
tion. She had never liked him so well.
“Something in this place tends to sadness; perhaps
it’s too beautiful,” she said rising. “Take me some-
where else—let us stroll, shall we?”
“The sailors told me,” he said, as he helped her to


116 THE KING’S WIDOW
her feet, “that the ﬁnest, far the ﬁnest view of the
ruins, is to be had from a boat, off the western shore
of the isle. I do wish I could show you that; but they
say we must return as we went, down the eastern coast,
for fear of this current which I am sure is mythical.
Look at that water! As I said just now! A duck-
pond!”
“Oh, I think Mistitch only meant that it is danger-
ous in rough weather. He has often sailed there him-
self. Let us go and consult the sailors, shall we?”
They moved off slowly; and the spy who had lain
in the shadow overbearing every word, rose, brushed
the bits of moss from his shiny dress coat, and has-
tened back to continue his duties of washing up and
packing the plates and spoons.


CHAPTER XII
THE STORM BURSTS
T was late indeed before the young people, or to
speak more truly, before Prince Theobald—could
be persuaded to leave the isle.
Each moment that the reluctant lover postponed
the end of his enjoyment meant a triﬂe added to the
potations of the two crews.
When at last the Lotus was ﬁlled with her comple-
ment of passengers, and ready to start, Humphrey
Varley, somewhat peremptorily, said that he himself
would steer.
Prince Ra was in his charge, and he meant to take
no risks. He would have liked to wait until he had
seen the smaller launch set out, but the delay in start-
ing her seemed endless, and the Glanzingfors family
was impatient. Varley had in fact no authority to keep
the princess under his eye; and it seemed to him cer-
tain that every possible care would be taken Of a boat
which contained both her and Prince Theobald.
Since all the servants and all the material of the
banquet had to be taken back, the launches were both
more crowded than on the outward voyage. Exam-
ining at the last moment, by the light of the lantern on
board, the faces of the staff, seated in the bows, Var-
ley noticed that Stepan Woronz was not among them.
The fact annoyed him, for he felt certain that the
princess would not like having the spy on board the
Abbess with her. He could say nothing, however, for
the Lotus was already fully loaded.
:17


118 THE KING’S WIDOW
Before they had steamed a hundred yards, a curve
in the shore of the isle hid the landing-stage from sight,
so that he could not see how closely the ﬂbbess was
following. He noticed nothing ominous in the weather
as long as they were in the comparatively shallow and
sheltered reach between the isle and the eastern shore;
but as they emerged into open water at the southern
spit of the isle, he instantly marked two things. One
was a ﬂaw of wind upon the glassy surface of the lake,
a ﬂaw which spread with lightning rapidity, causing
the launch to toss like a cork. The other was the
towering top of the thunder cloud, rushing down upon
them from the north-east, and covering the stars as
rapidly as though someone drew a blind across a sky-
light.
He made up his mind in a moment. “About ship!”
he said quickly to the sailors, “we will put back to the
landing-place. There is going to be a hurricane, and
the ladies will be more comfortable in shelter. We
can pass the word to the Abbess when we sight her.”
They turned with all speed, and started to run
north once more, to the annoyance of the ambassador,
who wanted to know what was happening. When he
understood that the force of the tempest might be such
as to wash over the launch and drench those on board,
he was ready enough to go back.
Varley assured him that the lake squalls were sharp
but short.
“In a couple of hours the moon may be shining again.
But we are only just in time.”
In fact, the hurricane was already blowing in fierce
earnest, almost in their teeth, and it took them twenty
minutes to retrace the distance they had covered in
ﬁve. They reached their moorings, however, just as
the rain began to fall. The sudden darkness made
steering difficult, and Humphrey, when he saw how


THE STORM BURSTS 119
dazed Stemkieff was, congratulated himself on having
taken the rudder. He landed his party in safety, and
sent them scurrying to the shelter of the ruins. But
his heart was in his throat. Upon the return journey
nothing had been seen of the small launch. Yet it was
gone from the landing-place.
The darkness which had closed in so quickly had
already blotted out the moon, and was now profound,
except when the lightning ﬂashed, revealing a waste
of roaring waters, foam-crested, etched out in blind-
ing clarity of lilac ﬁre. Not a sign of the Abbess, not
a light, as far as he could see.
“What can have become of them?” he muttered,
distracted. “I’ll swear they never passed us.”
The crew, suddenly sobered, stood round him on
the shore. Ra linked his arm in his. From the dis-
tance came sounds of the ladies complaining, and little
yelps of terror as the clouds opened and the thunder
boomed. The sense of what the Englishman was
saying broke in gradually upon the group of men.
“The small launch?” said a waiter, “it has gone
round the other way—round the northern end of the
isle, that the princess might see the view of the ruins
from that side.”
“Then by now they must all be drowned, unless God
works a miracle,” cried Varley hoarsely, “who ever
suggested such a mad plan? Did not everybody hear
what Mistitch said? He knew a storm was coming!
If this squall has struck them while they were in the
neighbourhood of the Cloister Current, they would be
drawn in like a straw!”
“I think, sir,” said one of the men, “that they
probably got round in time.”
“Did they start before us, then?”
“No. I heard Edor tell the prince they must wait
a few minutes, lest they were seen from your launch


120 THE KING’S WIDOW
and ordered back. They intended, as soon as they
had rounded the shoulder of the isle, to hoist a sail
so as to travel faster. They expected to catch you up
at the southern end, for a nice little breeze had sprung
up."
“A nice little breeze! Merciful Powers!” gasped
Humphrey. “Was not their steam enough without
rushing straight to destruction with a sail? Who could
have dreamed they were such lunatics? Whose idea
was it?”
“Prince Theobald, sir, told Edor what he wanted,
and Edor said there would be no danger, but ﬁne sport.
Indeed, sir, I think you will ﬁnd they have run before
the wind, and are home before us. Edor is a ﬁne navi-
gator.”
Varley stood a moment, cogitating. Then he turned
to Ra, and buttoned up in his tarpaulins.
“Ra, listen to me, and obey without a word. Run
to shelter and tell the ambassador what we have just
heard. Tell him that Stemkieff and I will go all round
the coast, to see if there are any signs—”
Ra’s lip was trembling, and his chest heaving, but
he showed his mettle and the result of Humphrey’s
training by running off without a word.
Varley turned to Stemkieff. “What is to be done?”
he demanded urgently. “Call for volunteers, and let
us take the launch round ”
Stemkieff shook his head. “Not yet! I daren’t. If
we follow the course they took, we are dead men. We
must wait until the squall has spent part of its vio-
lence, and then we may be able to go round the other
way—by the south—in no case by the northern route.
But I am inclined to think that, when Edor saw what
was coming, as he must have done, the moment they
rounded the northern point—he would put inshore,
wherever he happened to be. In that case, they may all


THE STORM BURSTS 121
be safe, or they may be in diﬁiculties, clinging to a bit
of wreck, or unable to climb the cliffs. If we take
lanterns ”
Varley jumped at the notion. They called for vol-
unteers, and proceeded, half blinded by the tempest, to
search the shores to the best of their ability.
The northern coast was an almost perpendicular wall
of cliff, part of a granite outcrop, rearing itself among
the sandstone of the neighbourhood, something like
the rocky masses of Dartmoor. There was no place
to which a boat could ﬂy for shelter; and they shouted,
called, listened and ﬂashed lights, without obtaining
any response of any kind.
Varley felt as if he had known it all along. He
stood in the driving blast, peering forth into such a
scene as an hour ago might have seemed incredible.
Theobald’s duckpond was a seething cauldron, and the
elﬁn screech of the wind suggested the notion of some
malignant living creature, rejoicing in destruction.
The foolhardy pleasure-seekers must have been
driven into the Loophole before they had time to collect
their wits. He knew in his heart that if they were
carrying sail when the squall struck them, they could
not have escaped the pull of the Cloister Current.
Theobald and Evadne in the pride of youth, the fu-
ture beckoning them along a path of roses—were
tossed aside like a puff of dust on a highway.
A sob rose in his throat as he thought of the woman
whom he had worshipped from afar for two years.
He ﬂung up his arms and in his despair shook his
clenched ﬁsts at the troubled waters.
“Curse you!” he cried, beside himself. “She loved
you, and you have murdered her!”
With head hanging and heart of lead, he reached the
party huddled under the cloisters, where so recently
lights had sparkled, wine had circulated, the laughter


122 THE KING’S WIDOW
of pleasure-seekers had been heard. The despairing
voice of Glanzingfors hailed him as he approached.
“Mein Gott, mein Gott! Herr Varley, this is too
atrocious! It cannot be true! Schrecklich! Schreck-
lich! Have you seen or heard anything?”
“Nobody will see the Abbess again until they send
down divers,” said Humphrey, quite unable to control
his bitterness. “They say the lake is two miles deep,
west of the Loophole. Well, Prince Glanzingfors, I
suppose this will conclude your stay in Kilistria? Our
King will never forgive such a breach of trust.”
“Breach of trust, sir You are insolent, sir! What
do you say?” blustered His Excellency, swelling like a
turkey-cock as he scrambled from his seat and came to
the arcading of the cloister, staring through it at the
presumptuous Englishman.
“I suppose you were as well able as I to perceive
that the sailors were drunk,” was the unabashed reply.
“You were in charge of the princess and are account-
able for her safety. As for me, I am in charge of the
Crown Prince, and had I not taken the helm he might
not at this moment be safe and well as he is.” He
turned and pointed to the lurid horizon. “Look at
that water! Do you wish you were tossing on it now?
My God, if I but knew that they were tossing on it
still! But they are gone. No one will see them
again.”
As he spoke, he remembered, as if it had been a
dream dreamt very long ago, his standing upon the
mountain path and seeing the spy pass up to Anton’s
cottage. Evadne had feared the spy. There came
to Varley like a ﬁnal touch of horror, the thought that
her last moments might have been embittered by the
proximity of the man—since he was in her boat.
I Just for a moment he could not help wondering if
the spy could have been concerned in the catastrophe.


THE STORM BURSTS 123
An instant’s reﬂection showed it to be inconceivable.
Theobald and Evadne were in the same launch. He
could not have wished to destroy both.
Meanwhile Glanzingfors had worked himself up
into a fury of rage. To go and rave at the sailors or
the waiters, to strike some creature that dare not re-
sist—this was the only way to relieve his choking mor-
tiﬁcation. The rain still fell fast, but its cataract vio-
lence was over. Ducking down his head, and not
heeding his wife’s frantic warning that he would give
himself a pain in the stomach if he took a chill, he
rushed off to harangue Stemkieff, who was in no mood
to be hectored by him. A lively altercation took place,
cut short only by Stemkieff’s decision that it might
now be possible to take the launch round the south
end of the isle and see whether anything was to be
found.
The ladies of the party made piteous outcry when
they found that they were to be left. Varley did not
heed it. He calmly said that they must be thankful
their lives were in no danger, and must wait where they
were until a further effort had been made to search
out the lost ones. Visions of a girl clinging to an
overturned boat, or to a fragment of bare rock, danced
before him and made him inexorable.
He put Ra in the charge of a waiter who was a
native of Veros and quite trustworthy, and embarked
with the crew upon their forlorn hope.
Dawn had just begun to glimmer, and the storm was
passing. There were rifts here and there in the dirty
veil of thunder-cloud, through which appeared some
sickly-looking stars. It was cold and everything was
reeking wet.
They battled their way up the western coast of the
isle, standing as close inshore as they dared, and keep-
ing a strict lookout. Nothing showed, nothing emerged


124 THE KING'S WIDOW
from the murky haze upon the weltering waste. In
the growing light the needles of the Loophole were
faintly visible in the distance. The current was racing
madly, and they dared not go too near. There were
excellent binoculars on board, and Varley was able to
feel sure that nothing living was within sight, though
he urged Stemkieff to what the man angrily told him
was a foolhardy degree of nearness.
“We had better go back as fast as we can,” he
grumbled. “The ladies and the prince must be taken
home; and the moment we get to Veros we must send
search parties all up the western side of the lake. It
is there, if anywhere, that we may look for signs of
them now.”
They returned from their fruitless mission, to ﬁnd
that the marooned party, having seen them approach-
ing, had all hurried down to the landing-place, that
they might hasten on board without delay.
Varley was so immersed in his passion of misery
and self-reproach that he took no heed of them until
after they had embarked, when he could not but mark
their chattering teeth and blue noses. Nobody had
brought any protection from rain or cold, and appar-
ently the men of the party had done nothing at all to
help or comfort the ladies, who, in the thinnest of
summer wraps, were really suffering severely. In an
access of remorse, Varley shook off‘his preoccupation
to the extent of routing out some liqueur with the help
of the waiters, and handing round doses for which they
were absurdly grateful.
The dreary party reached Veros just as the sun was
rising. Rastitch was awaiting them on the terrace,
leaning over the rail. Upon the landing-stage below
stood Mistitch, his glance uneasy and suspicious as it
swept the vacant waters.


THE STORM BURSTS 12 5
He came eagerly to the side of the Lotus, and
ﬂashed a glance over the passengers she carried.
“You were right, as you started home so late, to
wait until the storm had passed,” said he gruﬂiy. “But
where then is the Abbess? She steams as fast or faster
than you do.”
A terrible silence answered him.
“You have overdone your caution,” he grumbled,
“you might safely have started home more than an
hour earlier. Is the little launch even now afraid to
trust herself to the waters?”
Varley stepped ashore with the prince. His per-
fectly white face, and something in his eye, struck the
Headman silent. He asked him no question, but merely
came up close to him, trembling.
“Rastitch!” Varley called up to the landlord, “see
that a hot bath, a hot bed, and a bowl of bread and
milk are made ready for His Highness at once. I put
him in your charge, for I must be off again, without
delay.”
Rastitch turned and ran off to give the order. Var-
ley gripped Mistitch’s muscular arm as if its touch
brought comfort to him. He turned to the ambassador,
who sat as if he intended to pass the rest of the day on
board.
“Come, please to disembark at once. This launch
is wanted.”
He turned, to say a word to Ra, who was inclined to
cling to him, though trying hard to be brave. A
curious sound made them face round again. Mistitch
had put a sharp question to Stemkieﬂ, and had been
answered.
The Headman emitted a bowl unlike anything hu-
man. Gliinzingfors had just been hauled from the
launch, weary and staggering. The implacable old
man thrust himself into the way, raising clenched ﬁsts


CHAPTER X111
THROWN TOGETHER
T the time when the Abbess left the landing-place
and turned her course northward, Evadne was
like a person in a dream.
For years she had been starved of her woman’s
birthright of admiration. Now she felt a desire to
grasp at it with both hands.
The nearness of Theobald, the strength of his feel-
ing was influencing her more than she had foreseen.
She settled herself in the luxurious stern seat of the
little launch, with a sigh of excitement. The prince was
beside her; as Bar-Bar was on his other side, and the
dear soul was far from slim, he was very close beside
her.
The only jar to her pleasure was that the two men
who were running the launch—Edor and his assistant
—were laughing and jesting rather too loudly. The
night was a night for love whispers, not for horse-
play.
As they swung clear of the shadow cast on the water
by the great trees on shore, the moon shone full into
the boat, and lit up the faces of those she carried. The
eyes of the girl, sparkling with the novelty of the situ-
ation, caught the cold gaze of Stepan Woronz, seated
alone in the bow.
The man had been ceaselessly active, hard at work
since dawn that day; and, the heat being oppressive,
he had pulled off not merely his black coat, but also
128


THROWN TOGETHER 129
his stiff collar and tie, and was sitting in his shirt-
sleeves, bareheaded to the air.
The informality of such behaviour seemed all of a
piece with the loud chatter of the other two men, and
the princess felt disgusted. She uttered a little sound
of distaste, and Theobald turned to her quickly to ask
What was the matter.
“You’ll think me silly; but I don’t like that man,
that Polish waiter. I wish he were not in our boat.”
“Shall I give orders to pitch him overboard, and tell
him to swim back to land?” he asked, half-teasing.
She laughed.
“I’m afraid Rastitch sets too high a value on him
for us to venture to waste him; and I see that it would
be our only way to get rid of him now. Never mind.
It is just my fancy.”
“Why didn’t you speak sooner?”
“I didn’t notice him until after we had started.
Oh! See! How ﬁne the cliffs are here! I’ve never
been in these parts before, well as I know the lake!
I had no idea it was as grand as this.”
The breeze, as yet light, was now blowing very
perceptibly from the north-east. Edor ran up his sail,
which ﬁlled at once; and the little craft swept lightly
as a bird round the shoulder of the rocks, and steered
a western course.
It was not until they were well out from the danger-
ous lee of the rocky bastion, that they saw the racing
storm-cloud, swiftly devouring the stars; and the boat,
leaping like a hound unleashed, quivered, then seemed
to ﬂy, while Edor gave a kind of howl, and fell for-
ward, his face between his knees.
Evadne, not unversed in the quick approach of the
lake storms, turned to the prince in sudden fear.
“Oh, tell him to take down that sail at once—please


130 THE KING’S WIDOW
do!” she cried. “There’s going to be a storm, and we
shall be in the Current in a moment!”
Even as the words left her lips, with a long wild
whistle, the squall struck the boat which ﬂed before
it like a bullet ﬁred from a gun. Theobald, startled,
bent forward, touched Edor, shook him, shouted the
order to strike sail into his ear. To his rage the man
seemed as though he heard not. The sudden shock
of seeing what he had done, had paralysed a brain
excited by alcohol. Edor knew the lake, he knew the
current, and he knew what lay ahead.
“My God!” he stuttered thickly, “we are all dead
men!”
Everyone heard it. Stepan Woronz, in the bow,
stooped, and silently took off his boots. Theobald
turned green.
“Strike sail!” he yelled. “Didn’t you hear me?
Strike sail, you fool! And you”-—to the steersman—
“turn her head south, can’t you ?”
To which the steersman answered like the voice of
doom, “If I try to change her course now we shall cap-
size instantly.”
“It’s that saill” cried Evadne. “Is Edor mad, or
only drunk? In any case, it must come down, if we
have to do it ourselves, or we shall be in the jaws
of the Loophole!” '
She ﬂung off her cloak, but Theobald, eager to prove
himself equal to the situation, anticipated her, and
rushed at the rope. Edor did not seem to see what
was happening until too late. By the time the man
had fought the hysteria which was mastering him, the
prince had released the sail, but was as powerless to
hold it as if he had been a ﬂy.
Evadne was close behind him, and had cried out
some instruction which the shrieking wind bore away
unheard. He caught, however, her cry of consterna-


THROWN TOGETHER 131
tion as the suddenly freed canvas whipped round, was
caught by the wind and ﬂung out, roaring and slapping.
The launch heeled until the water was almost over the
gunwale, and the boom, catching Evadne on the side
of the head, dealt her a blow which shot her into the
lake. ,
Theobald’s yell of horror echoed over the remorse-
less waters. He ﬂung up his hands and cried to
Heaven for pity.
He was so poor a swimmer as to be completely Help-
less, and could only shriek out: “Save her! Save
her! Any money to the man who saves her! She
can swim, she can swim! Pick her up, for God’s sake !”
It so happened that, at the precise moment of the
catastrophe, the attention both of Woronz and of Edor
was diverted. Edor, galvanised by the extremity of
fear into sobriety, had whipped out his knife to cut
away the cordage and let the sail go; and Woronz was
helping him. The boat righted herself with a leap
and a shudder, having shipped several inches of water;
and Woronz at the same instant realised what had
happened.
Theobald saw him stand up, saw him mark in an
instant the body of the girl, upborne by her draperies
for a moment. Then he had plunged into the water,
and the prince, in a reaction of frenzied joy, cried out,
“There! There! I told you so! She is swim-
min ”
Von Reulenz leaned forward, and shouted some-
thing through clenched teeth. “She cannot swim. She
is stunned. The boom hit her on the head.”
The moon was not yet eclipsed. For that the Pole
gave thanks as he touched the body of the ﬂoating girl.
In his elation he sent up a shout, drowned in the howl-
ing of the blast before which the dbbess ﬂed from
them.


132 THE KING’S WIDOW
Evadne was on her back, and he succeeded in getting
his left arm under her head, so that her mouth, in
spite of the waves, was sometimes out of water. He
struck out with his right arm—and it was only then
that he realised their desperate situation.
They were already too far astern for any rope ﬂung
from the launch to reach them.
In the moments which had elapsed between her fall
and his taking his plunge, the hurricane had isolated
them. There was no hope. He would swim until he
was exhausted, and then they must drown together.
Those on board were too stupeﬁed or too ignorant
to save themselves, let alone the castaways. Von
Reulenz and von Jott were frankly landlubbers; and
Edor’s muddled wits, when he collected them, would
be wholly centred upon the avoidance of the Loophole.
The Loophole! There was but a very slender chance
that the castaways themselves could elude it. And
that was death; as certain—more horrible—than grad-
ual drowning.
No! N o! All the quick, youthful blood of Rosmer
surged up in denial. He would struggle on until the
last moment, yes, even though it might be a dead
woman whom he held in an arm even now showing
signs of aching.
In spite of the fact that he was travelling so much
less fast than the launch, he was yet being carried
along with alarming velocity in the control of wind and
current combined. The thought crossed his mind, like
the wildest whimsy, that, could he but dodge the Loop-
hole, they might actually be swept across the lake and
washed ashore upon its western margin without any
very great effort on his part.
It was the kind of idea one has in nightmare. Even
if he could steer his course far enough to the south
to be carried, by the left-hand half of the Current,


THROWN TOGETHER 133
outside the deadly trap, what might not happen to him,
tossed like a bubble upon these frothing waves? He
had heard of rock teeth, jagged needles sticking up
from the lake bed in all directions.
And she might be dead, after all!
But, with all his might be was swimming to his left,
ﬁghting the strong pull of the water, struggling,
wrestling towards the south. Flinging back his head,
he glanced about him. The moon still shone, though
the black rolling cloud was at its very edge. Its last
beam as it was covered, showed him the black bulk of
the Loophole crags rearing themselves at so short a
distance ahead that panic gripped him. Then to panic
succeeded hope, a mad hope.
The Loophole was almost halfway across!
If the current could carry them so far in so short a
time, then his idea had not been quite as extravagant
as it seemed. If he could manage to pass outside the
pincer claws, they had a chance—a real chance!
But now it was pitch dark, and the shadow of death
covered them. To shift his position among the chop-
ping, battling waves, was difﬁcult, but he achieved it.
He ﬂung himself upon his back, holding the princess
under the armpits, and swimming with his feet in the
recognised life-saving fashion.
He must put forth his whole strength in the next
two minutes. The danger once behind him, he might
swim quietly—might almost paddle. But now, he must
strain every muscle, bring into play every ounce of
force that was in him. He must swim, not with the
current, but across it; and in the awful darkness, thun-
der-ridden, how might he know in which direction he
was shaping?
He was a tiny bit of ﬂotsam, drifting who knew
whither, every nerve aquiver, every faculty concen-
trated upon the one aim.


I
I
134 THE KING’S WIDOW
The burden he carried was utterly passive and inert.
If she could have helped it would have been less dif-
ﬁcult—but at least she could not hinder.
Ah, God, if one could but see! If the blackness
were not so impenetrable, if the spindrift did not blind
one, and strangle one!
There! The cloud broke in ﬁre! A dazzling glare
lit up the broken water, and showed him everything.
He was swimming in a blot of inky shadow—the shad-
ow cast by the Loophole crags!
Even as he shuddered, they were slipping back be-
hind him. He had been safely carried past, outside,
toward the south.
And now it was merely a question of endurance; and
of not getting cramp.
He allowed himself a time of very slow swimming,
steering himself now slightly north as well as due
west, that he might have the beneﬁt of the most violent
part of the current. The rain hit his face like whips,
but he shut his eyes and laboured on, every inch of his
perfectly trained body responding nobly to the call
made upon it.
On and on. The impetus that bore them forward
was slackening. And the flicker of the lightning
showed the shore yet a long way off. '
Such a thing as failure now was however impossible.
He knew he should make the land some time.
His mind slipped away from the exigencies of the
moment, and he moved as one does in dreams; as if
it were the normal state of being, to voyage thus
through troubled waters, with a woman’s head so close
to his that her wet hair brushed his lips. _
He thought of curious little details. How white her
ﬁngers had looked, as she played with the wild maiden-
hair in the moonlight on the'abbey wall. He could
recall the exact cadence of her voice as she spoke three


136 THE KING’S WIDOW
surprise. He was close in shore, and the feet of the
unconscious girl were touching bottom.
Hardly daring to believe in his victory, he stood
upright on the ﬁrm soil. Putting both arms about the
insensible woman, he extricated himself and her slowly
from the water. The back-suck of the current swirled
round the little bay, seeming to clutch his legs, and
make his emergence from the clogging ﬂood a matter
of painful strain. When he stood upon ﬁrm ground
at last, he felt as if the last bit had taken longer than
the whole swim.
They had, as he foresaw, come ashore in the bay
where Tuich kept his boat.
The rain was still coming down heavily, and as the
lightning was growing less, it was very dark. How-
ever, he knew where to look for shelter of a kind. He
drew his burden upward until they reached a place
where the sandstone cliff overhung so much on the
north side of the bay as to make a pent-house, screened
from both wind and rain.
He was shaking with weakness and exhaustion as he
laid the dripping body on the sand, which was here
quite dry. For a long moment he stood there, swaying
on his feet, trying to cudgel his faltering brain back
to action. He wanted to drop down beside the motion-
less girl and rest; yet he,knew there was something he
must ﬁrst do, if only he could think what it was.
A ﬂicker across the rolling water penetrated to the
gloom of his temporary refuge, and showed him her
waxen face and closed eyes. With the sight there
leapt into him the remembrance that if she still lived
he had to save her, come what might.
Dizzily, he went down upon his knees, stooped over
her, laid his car over the place where her heart should
beat. He could hear nothing.
Sighing heavily, he proceeded to raise her up, touch-


THROWN TOGETHER 137
ing her tenderly like a fruit he feared to bruise. He
threw her weight forward, over his arm, to get rid of
water she might have swallowed.
She was terribly cold. He had no brandy—nothing.
He himself was hot all over, tingling with the stu-
‘ pendous exertion of his late swim. He laid her care-
fully down upon the sand, and began to make the
necessary movements for inducing artiﬁcial respira-
tion. The mere fact of having to do the same thing
repeatedly kept him going. Mechanically he raised
her arms and let them fall, expanded and contracted
the lungs.
Time went by. He did not know how much. At last
he bent over her again; and this time he heard her
heart—heard and felt it beat.
There stole over him a wave of pure joy which not
even the cruel circumstances could conquer.
“She is alive,” he thought; and instinctively drew
her up against his own warm body, as though to shield
her from the cold and wet.
He could not tell what to do. There was no help to
be had inside of an hour, even if he could run with
all his speed; and he was done—literally done.
If he left her there, cold as she was, exposed to the
elements, she would die of exhaustion before his re-
turn. He himself might drop with fatigue on his way
to summon help.
He felt it imperative that he should rest awhile, to
get back his full consciousness. He felt sure that in
a few minutes he would be recovered, and could either
run for help or carry her to better shelter.
Meanwhile, he must keep her warm.
With care he pressed and wrung the water from
her still partially looped hair, and from her draper-
ies. He propped his back against the sandstone cliﬂ,
and clasped her close.


138 THE KING’S WIDOW
“I must keep the life in you,” he whispered, to ears
that could not hear. “I shall be all right in a minute
or two—and then I’ll carry you up the cliff.”
And then in a moment, before he had time to con-
sider the enormity of his behaviour, his exhaustion as-
serted itself invincibly. He had reached the limit of
human effort, and consciousness slipped from him en-
tirely independent of his will.


CHAPTER XIV!
STRANGERS YET
WHEN Stepan Woronz came to himself with a
start, daylight had fully broken.
With an indescribable sensation of unreality he gazed
about him at the low grey sky and dirty, heaving lake;
thence to the head which lay in the crook of his arm.
He was stiff and sore, every limb ached, and his brain
still swam, so that at ﬁrst he could not be sure that
what he saw was actual fact. He lifted his head, and
drew in great gulps of the air of the summer morning;
and as his grip of his own senses grew more steady, he
realised that he and the princess were both warm.
Hours, he knew, must have elapsed since he lost
consciousness. He was ﬂooded with shame. Yet he
felt that, if he could but keep from the lady the knowl—
edge of her present position, his collapse was possibly
the best thing that could have chanced.
Eamestly perusing the face which lay helpless under
his gaze, he saw that her breath came evenly and that
her condition was no longer that of unconsciousness,
but of natural sleep.
Her right ear was clotted with blood which had
oozed from a wound upon the cheek-bone, below the
temple. That side of her face was much discoloured;
but she did not seem to be in pain. Her expression
was quite peaceful.
' Impressed with the necessity of changing their at-
titude before she awoke, he set about moving with the .
greatest caution; and succeeded in laying her down
139


140 THE KING’S WIDOW
upon the sand, which he heaped together beneath her
head.
The motion, however, or perhaps the cool air blow-
ing upon her, awoke her almost instantly. With no
preliminary stir of life, she raised her lids and gazed
upward.
In his excitement he forgot to be self-conscious, and
watched absorbed the light gleam on the clear globes
of her eyes, and the intelligence creep into her expres-
sion as she scanned the bit of cliff and the leaden sky.
Suddenly she turned her head to one side, and with a
wild glance, realised his presence.
For a breathless instant the two pairs of eyes held
each other, the man’s grim and steady, cold and
guarded; the woman's dilating with a sudden horror.
Her lips parted as if she were going to speak. But
her loathing overcame her, and she turned her head
away. The movement hurt her, for a cry of pain es-
caped her.
Had she been looking at him, she would have seen
that he twice moistened his dry lips to nerve himself
for the effort of addressing her. When he made his
voice heard it was in the expressionless tone of the
well-trained servant.
“Is Your Highness suffering?”
She made a great effort to rise. He offered to help,
and she struck his hand aside as if it had been a snake.
“What are you doing here with me? Are we on
the isle?”
“No, Highness. We are on the lake shore, some
miles from Florémar.”
He had to watch her struggles to sit up unassisted,
which were at last successful.
“What happened?” she demanded then, facing him
despotically. “Do you hear? I order you to tell me
What happened! Where are—the others?”


STRANGERS YET 141
“Alas, madam, I do not know.”
“What!” she cried. “Do you mean to tell me that
they are lost? DO you say that the-—the prince is
drowned, and that you—you”-the contempt was ,
scathing—“are saved?”
He knelt upon the sand, unkempt, wan, his shoulders
drooping as though her words had been blows.
“I am sorry, madam. I cannot help it. All I can
do is to try and take you home. I would have done so
sooner, but I—I lost consciousness.”
He rose to his feet, not without difﬁculty, and moved
wearily away to where Tuich’s boat lay, upside down
upon the shore. To turn it over required an effort of
which he felt himself hardly capable.
Meanwhile, the signiﬁcance of the fact that she was
alive, after having, as she supposed, passed through
the jaws of the Loophole, began to penetrate Evadne’s
intelligence.
Everything was unaccountable. Stamped on her
mind with surprising clearness was the memory of the
look, both ruthless and intent, which she had surprised
upon the face of the spy during supper the previous
night. She had then divined an enmity which made her
shrink. Yet here she was, to all seeming, in his power;
and his manner was that of crushed servility.
With a determination to hear more, she called him
back; using, to conceal her fear, a peremptory manner
not at all usual to her.
“Come here!” she ordered; and when her ﬁrst feeble
cry did not reach him, she repeated it more loudly. He
started as if shot, and came back, running as if his
legs were tied together. She noticed that he had
bound his forehead with a handkerchief, and wondered
dully if he were hurt, but her own affairs must be ﬁrst
considered.


142 THE KING’S WIDOW
“How did we come here ?” she demanded. “I sup-
pose we were washed overboard?”
“I—I suppose so, Highness.”
“And you do not know what became of the rest of
the party?”
“N—no Highness. I was—otherwise occupied.”
“Then it is possible that they are all washed to shore,
somewhere along this coast ?”
“It may be ”
“You had better go and search for them.”
“Pardon, Highness. I must get you into safety
ﬁrst. If you will allow it, we will use this boat which
lies here, and I will row you to Water Gate.” ,
“You? You can’t row!” said the girl contemptu-
ously.
He himself was doubtful of getting far in his played-
out condition; but he replied humbly—
“I could try, Highness.”
To this folly she deigned no answer, but sat looking
irresolute, increasingly conscious of her forlorn state,
and of feeling more ill than she had ever felt before
in her strong young life. As no further orders seemed
to be forthcoming Stepan turned away, and started to
haul the boat, which he had succeeded in turning over,
down the beach. His arms seemed weighted with lead,
and he could hardly see what he did.
“Stop!” cried his tyrant; and he stopped.
“Do you suppose that I will trust myself on the water
with a man who doesn’t know how to row?”
She broke off in the midst of her reproof; for
Stepan, who had stood as before, meekly accepting her
hectoring, now raised his head, with a look of half
incredulous joy.
“Why, what’s the matter?” she cried.
“The beat of rowlocks! Oars! A boat!” he called
back in very different tones; hastening as best he could,


STRANGERS YET 143
down to the water’s edge, with an oar in his hands,
which he waved unsteadily about over his head. His
cry sounded oddly like a paean of triumph, and the
boat came on at double its former pace. Presently
there ﬂoated to the princess’s ears the welcome sound
of talking, and something like a cheer echoed against
the cliff, making her sob with the sudden, untold relief.
Another moment, and big Niklaus had leapt into
the water, waded to shore, and was on his knees beside
her, half laughing, half crying, pouring out words of
caressing love in his crooning Kilistrian tongue.
“So thou art alive, praise God! And in thy senses,
praise God! In one half hour thou shalt be at home
and in thine own bed,” he exulted, as he beckoned to
his assistant to bring wine and hot milk. “This is a
miracle indeed! A miracle, and well does our patron
saint deserve those candles I have vowed! Canst tell
us how the miracle happened?”
“I don’t know. I was washed into the water. I
think the boom hit my head. Perhaps that saved my
life. The current must have carried me here—”
Niklaus looked very sceptical. “Can yon Pole tell
us nothing?”
“N 0. He knows no more than we do. I think there
must be more saved, don’t you, Niklaus? Will they
search all along the shore?”
“In every nook and corner,” he reassured her, “but
the ﬁrst thing of all is to have thee warmly laid and
the doctor summoned. Ah, but Mistitch will be a glad
man this day! He has gone into the very jaws of the
Loophole itself for news of thee l”
Thus talking, he had given her a hot drink, wrapped
her warmly in a woollen plaid, lifted her, and borne her
to the boat, where she was carefully bestowed upon
cushions.
“Art thou at ease ?” asked the big man with anxiety.


144 THE KING'S wmow
“Yes. I feel much better. Only one thing, Niklaus!
Don’t let that man—that Polish waiter—come in this
boat. I can’t bear the sight of him. I don’t suppose
he can help being the only one saved, but I feel as if I
must scream when I see him, and think that he’s alive
and the others—my poor old baroness—and—the—
prince—are missing.”
“It is all right,” spoke Niklaus soothingly. “Anton
says he will stay behind and care for Stepan Woronz,
who seems very tired. There is Tuich’s boat. They
can come back in that.”
Turning her languid head, Evadne saw that Woronz
had seated himself near—near enough to have heard
what she said—upon an overturned ﬁsh basket. Anton
was bending over him, touching his forlorn bandage,
and apparently inquiring the nature of his wound.
“He isn’t hurt, is he?” she queried peevishly.
“No, I think not. He says not,” said Niklaus, push-
ing off as fast as he could; and catching up the oars,
he rowed off with tremendous strokes; leaving the two
men, who seemed to maintain their respective attitudes
without change, as long as Evadne could see them.
Anton contented himself, until the boat had rounded
the little headland, with pouring wine into a ﬂask and
watching the weary man drink it.
“Come,” he said urgently, “try to eat something
with it, or it will go to your head! God be praised for
your safety, which seems like a miracle. How did it
come about?”
“Like all miracles—miraculously,” said Stepan with
the ghost of a smile. “But the thing which is giving
me the most concern is this hair of mine. I forgot all
about it until I put up my hand and found it trickling
in little black rills down my forehead. Most annoy-
ing. Was it noticeable when ﬁrst you saw me?”
“Not with the handkerchief. I merely thought you


STRANGERS YET 145
had got your face frightfully dirty. But you were
prudent to cover it,” replied Anton, a little anxiously.
The Pole, seeming relieved, went on eating biscuits
and drinking wine for a minute or so in silence. Anton
stood by, waiting until he should feel a triﬂe recovered.
He had taken a coat from the boat and persuaded him
to put it on.
“Have you really no idea how you came ashore?”
he asked after some minutes.
Stepan shrugged his shoulders. “Very little. How
many of my nine lives do you suppose I have lost
already? I ought to be a dead man at least three times
over—eh? I shall begin to think I can’t die.”
“The saints, doubtless, have you in their special
keeping for the work you must do,” said Anton seri-
ously.
Stepan laughed, a dry, derisive laugh; and after a
moment, he let his forehead drop upon his hands.
“I’m so weary—so tired in my soul! I feel ready
to drop everything. Why go on leading this accursed
life—this furtive, treacherous life? The men who
pay me despise me. SO plainly is my untrustworthi-
ness written in my face, that a—a good woman—re-
coils from me, instinctively, as she would from a rep-
tile. And what is to be the end? Put up against a
wall and shot! At this moment I see the shadow of
that approaching moment, darkening the sands—dark-
ening the sky ”
“I thought you loved the adventure of it? You have
always said so,” began Anton, as though shaken by
this despondent confession. Then he braced himself
to comfort the forlorn spy. “This isn’t you. It’s just
exhaustion talking. When you have had a good long
rest and a square meal, you will feel as different as
anything. Pull yourself together, and we will go home
at once. The little path from Tuich’s farm will take


146 THE KING’S WIDOW
us up the cliff to the old corner. Come! Think of
Beruna’s honey cakes, and your own armchair!"
The plea seemed successful. Stepan lifted his head.
“She doesn’t wince away from me,” he muttered, as if
to himself. Anton did not hear, for he was busily
occupied in collecting his things. Having done so, he
put his hand under the spy’s arm pit, and raised him
to his feet.
“Nobody anywhere about, is there?” he said in an
undertone. They stood together, ﬂashing their glances
up the cliff and out upon the water. The clouds were
rolling up thickly for more rain, the lake still heaved
with the swell from the recent storm. There was a
sob in the wind.
As far as they could see, no soul was in sight, either
on land or wave.
“Why?” asked Woronz in a very low voice. “Any-
thing to tell me?”
nges. Good news. It will help you to climb the
c1 s. ’
“Then for God’s sake, boy, tell me anything that
you think likely to put a bit of starch in me, for I’m
so cheap this morning, you might buy me for nine-
pence.”
“Here it is then. Officially announced that the
Grand Duke and Duchess of Marvilion visit Kilistria
next month.”
It did not sound very earth-shaking news. Until
this summer it had been as regular an annual occur-
rence as the harvest. Only the late wrangle between
the two old friends, Raoul of Marvilion and Boris of
Kilistria, lent special signiﬁcance to the announcement.
It was hard to tell how it affected the man who heard
it. Anton had said it would be good news; but when
he received it he shook his head, and turned towards
the shelter of the woods which grew thickly up the


STRANGERS YET 147
cliff-side, moving like a man in whom the springs of
action have become suddenly impaired.
“What use now?” he muttered fractiously. And
again, after some minutes’ silence—“What use?”


CHAPTER XV
WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE
T did not take Mistitch long to issue his orders,
collect his material, and choose out his small band
of picked men to accompany him and Humphrey Var-
ley upon the desperate venture which they had decided
to make.
It was as certain as anything unproved can be that
the Abbess—luckless name l—had been carried into
the open jaws of the Loophole. It was almost equally
certain that she had been swept out the other side, in
which case she was broken to pieces, and all her oc-
cupants drowned. Almost, but not quite.
Edor was an experienced sailor, and it was said that,
within the ghastly amphitheatre of jagged rocks, there
were recesses into which a boat might be thrust, if its
headlong course to destruction could be arrested or
diverted.
If by skilful manoeuvring this had been accomplished,
there was thus a slender chance—one in a thousand—-
that there might be survivors.
In the exchange of a few rapid sentences, Hum-
phrey grasped that such at least was the Headman’s
opinion; and further, that the only way in which they
could ﬁnd out was to approach the Loophole from the
outside, land, and climb over the rocks.
Varley was himself a practised mountaineer. He
felt sure that, if Mistitch could guarantee a landing,
he could manage an ascent. The cliffs were so jagged
that there must be foothold of a kind.
I48


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 149
In half an hour from the time that the Lotus reached
the landing-stage, they were off again; and Humphrey
devoured the breakfast which he badly needed, as they
rushed northward over the rough water once more,
steering for the fatal spot.
The south-west curve of the horseshoe was in the
lee of the current, half of which, deﬂected southward,
ﬂowed past, and set up various eddies and back-sucks
and little Whirlpools among the reefs. They were
obliged to draw near with the utmost caution. Hum-
phrey studied the place through ﬁeld-glasses, and de-
cided that it would not be impossible to land, at one
particular spot, from a small boat.
No anchorage was practicable, but the men succeed-
ed in securing the launch to the rock by means of ropes.
The small skiff which they had been towing was then
brought alongside. The Headman and he transferred
themselves into it, and were rowed by two of the men
to a place where they had almost calm water, and were
able to effect a landing among the broken boulders.
So far, so good. The men raised a cheer when the
two pioneers were seen to stand upon the rock itself,
with no more chasms intervening; the Englishman set
himself to his task of scaling the wet cliff, with a totally
inexperienced climber as his sole companion.
It was a tough bit of work; but he felt as if he could
have climbed the steep ascent of heaven that morning.
The chance—the miserable meagre chance—that this
grim dungeon wall might enclose a living captive,
nerved his heart and made steel of his muscles. Mis-
titch was a ﬁrst-rate comrade. Though this was pre-
sumably his first ascent, he seemed to know instinct-
ively the way to use his strength, and he seized upon
each hint given by the more experienced man in a way
to excite admiration.
Another cheer from the boat heartened them when


150 THE KING'S WIDOW
at last they stood upon the top; and then, with a wave
of their hands, they turned and disappeared into the
interior.
Thus did Humphrey Varley look upon a sight which
few mortal eyes have gazed upon; the inner secret of
the beautiful, treacherous, Karneru See.
A wonderful green light, a roar of deep continuous
sound, and the rustle of innumerable pinions, made
up his ﬁrst impression. The freshwater terns, whose
nests were placed there undisturbed from generation
to generation, rose in battalions, and ﬂew about with
twittering cries, the sound seeming to ﬂoat upon the
roar of the ﬂood below as rose-leaves may ﬂoat upon
a mill-race.
All around them were innumerable pinnacles, and
shelves of rock, those nearest the top covered with
velvet green turf and clumps of blossoming thrift.
Tge descent was much less abrupt than upon the outer
si e.
They waited until the tumult and the dust of the
scared birds had subsided; and then looked keenly all
about them. Nothing was to be seen or heard from
where they stood. A mist of spray hovered over the
place where they knew the outlet to be; though the
point was hidden from them where they stood by the
irregularities of the rock, a narrow shaft of light, wav-
ering upon the terrible green cylinder of water below,
showed where it must lie. Mistitch contemplated his
surroundings for a long time in complete silence. Then
he raised his great ﬁst and pointed downward. Hum-
phrey’s eye followed the direction, but could see noth-
ing at all, except the mist, and the green dankness and
the terns circling about.
“What is it—what do you see?” he demanded
eagerly.
“The birds,” was the reply.


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 151
“The birds ?” Humphrey pondered for a minute.
Then he noticed that the scare had subsided, and that
most of the disturbed inhabitants had settled again
upon the rocks; but that in one place—the place to
which Mistitch pointed—they still went on crying and
circling.
“They see something,” said the Headman. “There
is something down there, which they can see and we
can’t. Let us work our way in that direction.”
Making their ropes fast to the top, they began to
go down. After some time, Varley suggested shouting.
Mistitch caught at the idea and they let loose a loud
“Hallo-o-o l” which rang round the wild walls and set
the birds again astir.
In the rustling and chirping they were almost cer-
tain that they heard a faint response from someone,
somewhere.
From the almost sickening excitement which the
sound produced in him, Varley knew how small his
hope had been. With redoubled keenness they con-
tinued their descent, presently checking again, and
letting forth another shout. This time there was no
doubt at all about the response, which came from quite
near. They replied with energy, working their way
with care round a great rock which jutted like a but-
tress to their left.
When they had rounded it they were in full view
of the slit of the Loophole, cleaving the great rampart
from top to bottom; and in the cold grey light they
saw also the pitiful group of survivors.
These were crouched upon a little ledge, hardly
three feet above the level of the terrible water, rushing
like a hump-backed snake through the bottle-neck.
They had barely foot-hold, the two men standing, the
woman huddled into a heap at their feet.
They stared—that is, the men did—at their res-


152 THE KING’S WIDOW
cuers, with wild eyes and teeth bared in unnatural grins.
They looked half mad. All the blood in Humphrey’s
body rushed to his heart, and his feet and hands grew
cold; for the woman’s poor tousled grey hair did not
belong to Evadne.
The hope which had risen so high fell prostrate
with that shock. But both he and Mistitch held on
steadily, until they had approached quite near the
wretched trio. The men were Theobald and von Reu-
lenz. Theobald was gripping with one hand the shoul-
ders of the baroness, and as they drew near, he bent
down, shook her'slightly, and called into her ear—
“Saved! Saved! Do you hear? We are saved!”
She only swayed forward, and he clutched her des-
perately, fearful of losing his balance and dropping
at the last moment into that hypnotising death which
darted along with deadly menace so few inches be-
neath him.
“Hold on one moment and I’m with you!” cried
Humphrey encouragingly, as he slipped down to the
nearest available ledge. “Is she alive ?”
“I think so. She was a few minutes ago,” said
Theobald huskily. “Great God! How did you reach
us?”
“Over the top,” said Humphrey laconically. “We’ll
get to work to move her at once, we won’t stop to ask
questions, except the one that must be asked—Are you
three the only survivors?”
Theobald turned away his twitching face. “As far
as I know—yes,” he answered.
The tumult of the water made hearing difficult.
Varley, with a white face, communicated the reply to
Mistitch, who made no answer, except to ﬂing at Theo-
bald a glance expressing a hatred that would have been
glad to indulge itself by leaving him there to perish.


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 153
All he said, however, was--“Y0u will lash the baron-
ess to my back, and I will take her to the top.”
Von Reulenz had neither moved nor spoken. Since
the ﬁrst sight of his rescuers he seemed to be sinking
into stupor. Varley had succeeded by now in coming
up quite near. He leaned over and lifted the baroness
in his strong grip. “Come now, Bar-Bar,” said he,
speaking her pet-name into her ear, “Wake up! It’s
all right! I’ve come to fetch you home.” -
His well-known voice penetrated the poor bemused
brain.
“Mr. Varley! Then I am safe!” cried she. “Oh,
my dear young man, I have been for hours and hours
in hell—with the lost—with the lost ”
As she panted out the words, she showed him some-
thing she held in her hand. It was a skull, white and
clean—a human skull.
“It was here—~lying on the ledge,” muttered Theo-
bald; and Humphrey glancing down, saw that the shelf
was strewn with bones. He shuddered. Was this the
head of the lost abbess or one of her nuns?—and had
she, or they, waited upon that ghastly ledge, day after
day for rescue, until hunger accomplished its fell work?
The skull gave the ﬁnal touch to the shocking cir-
cumstances. He took the grisly relic from Bar-Bar’s
hands, bestowed it upon a small niche above their
heads, and devoted himself to the arrangements for
removing ﬁrst the woman, then the two men, from
their duress.
When Mistitch had gone off with his substantial bur-
den, swinging himself up the rocks in a manner to pro-
voke admiration, Varley administered a dose of brandy
to the other two castaways, and he and Theobald suc-
ceeded in bringing back von Reulenz in some degree
to a realisation of what was happening. Theobald was
soon well enough to take Varley’s rope and begin, very


156 THE KING'S wmow
was on board and the launch could cast loose and steam
away.
They made straight for Florémar, in order to put
the baroness on shore. She seemed half dead, and
Varley hung over her like a son, doing all in his power
to warm her chilled frame.
“Thou must be weary as a dog,” observed Mistitch
to the Englishman as they drew near the Water Gate.
“Thou too must get to bed.”
“Not yet,” replied Varley with stern mouth. “There
is all the west coast of the lake to search.”
“I have had parties searching there all the morn-
ing,” replied Mistitch curtly.
“Then we will ascertain if they have found any-
thing. If they have not, we will go back to that devil’s
hole, thou and I, and force it to give up its dead,” re-
plied the young man. To which Mistitch responded
in an outburst.
“Oh that thou wert a Kilistrian! I would with glad-
ness have called thee son !”
Rain had begun to fall again by the time that the
Lotus came to her moorings. Theobald clenched his
teeth and his hands as he looked at the charmed spot
where he had seen the girl he loved standing in the
boat, in the dazzling sunshine and the glamour of sum-
mer. He wished he had never come to Veros. There
was a wound in his heart that would take long to heal.
Shame mingled with his vast regret. He had not played
a hero’s part.
A loud shouting made him lift his abased head.
Niklaus, standing on the landing-stage, was waving his
arms, and calling out something in their barbarous
lingo. Humphrey Varley sprang to his feet, tense as a
bowstring and sent back what sounded like an incredu-
lous question. Evidently it was answered in the aﬂir-
mative; whereupon the Englishman tore off his cap,


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 157
waved it wildly in the air, and shouted as his race sel-
dom shout save on the towing path beside the Isis, or
when they go over the parapet.
Theobald saw the tutor and the Headman collapse
into one another’s arms. He believed that the old wal-
rus was kissing the young man.
Ghastly pale, the prince leaned forward, begging to
hear the news. Humphrey did not heed him. He
sprang to where the poor old baroness lay huddled
among rugs, and knelt beside her.
“Bar-Bar! Listen! When you hear my news, you
will be quite well! She’s alive. She’s safe. Our prin-
cess! Safe at home at Water Gate! Do you hear
me?”
Alberta moved. She raised her self upright—a fear-
some spectacle, poor lady, in her dishevelment.
“Evadne!” said she, with breaking voice. “My lit-
tle love! Oh—God is very good to us!”
* * *
* * *
“The unsophistication of these Kilistrians is past be-
lief,” remarked von Reulenz the following day to his
chief.
He had had twelve hours in bed, but was still feeling
a good deal shattered, and only ﬁt to lie in the ham-
mock under the pergola of the terrace at the Kron
Prinz. “Seem to love the royal family as if it were
their own,” he went on. “Old Alberta, mark you! She
isn’t even a native! A Lascanian, who only came into
the country with Queen Rosamond on her marriage!
She actually didn’t want to live if the princess was
dead.”
“Tut, tut,” said Glanzingfors. “Fear! Nothing but
fear! She thought she would get into hot water if any-
thing happened to the girl. But she has escaped. It is
to us that the consequences are serious. You heard the
yelling last night?”


158 THE KING'S WIDOW
Von Reulenz nodded, as he drank a long draught
from the iced lemon drink at his elbow. “Dead tired
though I was, it roused me,” he said. “In fact, I very
nearly got up. But they were cheering afterwards ?”
“Because Rastitch was able to assure them that the
princess was alive and well. Had it been otherwise, I
think they would have had me, if not you; for there
were no police.” The speaker’s ﬂabby face looked
grey, his eyes almost wild. Like most of his nation,
the prince ambassador was not brave except when
backed by a big majority. “It was ugly,” he remarked
after a signiﬁcant pause, “very ugly. I have given or-
ders for the whole embassy to get back to Gailima to-
morrow. You and I, however, will go this afternoon,
in the car. We are not popular here, thanks to Theo-
bald’s outrageous folly. What possessed him to go and
overthrow all my best plans like this?”
“He’s so besottedly in love,” returned von Reulenz
bitterly, “that he thinks of nothing but trying to please
her, of being in a romantic situation with her!”
“Plague on him! I didn’t bring him here to fall in
love with the woman, but to marry her—quite another
thing! . . . And now the whole thing is over, isn’t it?”
Von Reulenz answered slowly: “I wouldn’t be quite
sure. She’s such a romantic little fool that the fact of
his being so in love would make her forgive a good deal.
You won’t persuade him to go back to Gailima with
you. Here he’ll stay until he has had a try for par-
don.” '
“You think so?”
“He told me so—just now. He’s half mad to think
Rosmer saved her and not himself.”
“Ought we,” asked Glﬁnzingfors after profound
thought, “to leave Rosmer here to look after him?”
“I suppose we ought,” replied von Reulenz. “You,
had better speak to him about it. By jove, though, we


WITHIN THE LOOPHOLE 159
should have been in a hole but for him! How much
shall you give him, sir?”
Glanzingfors snorted with emotion.
“One could hardly overpay such a service,” he said.
“It was superhuman. And then they send us a message
from headquarters to tell us that their pet ferret, Hosh-
kin, does not trust the Swedish Captain Rosmerl”
“What did you say to that?”
“Very little. What can you say? What reason have
we to trust Hoshkin, any more than Rosmer? One
trusts a man because one has found him trustworthy.”
“I wish he had not been on this waiter stunt,” ob-
served von Reulenz fretfully. “If he had been here as
Captain Rosmer of the embassy, he could have been
just as useful, and last night when the mob asked for
our blood, we could have said that a member of our
own party performed the heroic rescue. He makes
quite a fair imitation of a gentleman, if he tries,” con-
cluded the young attache condescendingly.
Rastitch, carrying some glasses on a tray, appeared
upon the terrace, and the ambassador called to him.
“Send Stepan, the head waiter, to me,” he commanded.
“Stepan,” replied Rastitch in cold, formal tones, “has
not returned, if it please your Excellency.”
“Not returned! When do you expect him?”
“I do not expect him, Excellency. He sent me a note
by one of the Forest Guard to say he is knocked up, and
cannot perform his duties. You will excuse me, gentle-
men, his absence gives me much to do.”
The two exchanged glances as he moved rapidly
'away.
“H’m! His absence gives me also much to do,”
commented the ambassador. “I must send for someone
to take his place at once. Can’t leave that girl un-
watched.” He brought down his ﬁst heavily. “Some-
thing going on which I can’t get at,” he muttered, his at-


160 THE KING’S WIDOW
titude and aspect suggesting ludicrously a pug dog snuf-
ﬂing and growling at the chink between a locked door
and the ground.
“Oh, well,” said von Reulenz, “if you put a new man
on to the work, we shall at least ascertain whether there
is any truth in Hoshkin’s hint. The only thing that has
ever made me doubt Rosmer has been his total failure
to get behind the scenes at Florémar. It isn’t like
him.”
Glanzingfors grunted, and sat speculative.
“Wonder where he’ll turn up next ?” hazarded von
Reulenz. “Of course he knew that too much publicity
wasn’t at all the thing for him. So he’s off 1 Marvel-
lous chap 1”
“Yes, he is marvellous. I, Glanzingfors, say so,”
was the almost defiant answer. “Off without a word
to us, so that we could send for him and show complete
surprise! Prince of spies. Well, we shall hear from
him before long doubtless. Who knows? The prin-
cess may have become delirious and babbled while he
was in her company. He may have a fresh clue to fol-
low—who can say?”


CHAPTER XVI
EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT
VADNE raised her arms, stretched them above
her head, yawned luxuriously, and with a little
shake of her shoulders, made up her mind that she had
borne it as long as she could.
For a week she had lain there docile, submitting to be
hushed like a child, and told to go to sleep whenever
she attempted conversation; but her intelligence was
now in full working order, and physically she felt well
enough to get up and go for a long walk.
Nada, who rose from her chair and laid aside her
work the moment her mistress stirred, rang a bell
which was answered almost instantly by Dola, who
brought in a tray with a covered basin. She was smil-
ing, as she had persistently smiled all the time. Nada,
too, had smiled until Evadne was possessed with the
horrible idea that they were smiling bravely in order
to keep the patient cheerful, and that behind their ap-
parent mirth lurked deadly tidings.
Now at last she made up her mind to know the
worst; and when she had eaten her soup with appetite,
she expressed herself accordingly.
Nada seemed in no way taken aback. “I hope you
will think the news is good, Highness,” she said; and in
reply to her mistress’s eager cry she told the story of
the discovery of the survivors within the Loophole, and
of the heroism of Humphrey Varley.
Here was heartening news. Evadne had nerved her-
self to hear that the prince had perished; but he Was
161


162 THE KING’S WIDOW
alive and almost well again, although he had been con-
ﬁned to his bed for some days.
“He is all alone at the hotel but for his servant,” ex-
plained Nada. “The whole embassy staff went back to
Gailima the following day. People hereabouts were
very angry with them. Crowds collected outside the
hotel, and had not the news of Your Highness’s safety
been brought, Rastitch thinks there would have been
trouble.”
“My escape seems miraculous,” said the girl dream-
ily. “I can’t make it out at all. I’m glad the embassy
have gone!”
“And that His Highness is still here,” supplemented
Nada with satisfaction. “He sends every day to in-
quire, and is coming to visit you as soon as you are well
enough to receive him.”
“H’m 1” said Evadne, twisting her mouth a little. In
truth, her feelings were mixed. It was no thanks to
Theobald that she survived, and she had no clue as to
what he was thinking of his own conduct.
However, if he were apologetic enough, she did not
suppose that she would be implacable, for her spirits
were rising every moment. The beloved old baroness
was safe, the embassy had removed itself from her se-
clusion; and she had conclusively proved the intentions
of the Polish spy not to be malignant. Had there been
any truth in her wild surmise that he wished to kill her
he could have done so, without the faintest risk of de-
tection, as she lay on the beach at his mercy.
Had her dead body been found, nobody would have
felt any surprise. Her being alive was the wonder.
Lying in her comfortable room in the sunshine, Nada
sitting by, busy with her needlework, Evadne decided
that she had allowed her imagination to run away with
her. Her suspicions, aroused by the delivery of the
mysterious message, had evidently worked in quite a


EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 163
wrong direction. Pondering over the abject attitude of
the presumed spy, she wondered that she could ever
have thought him formidable.
Her mind was not yet alert enough to face clearly
the mystery of her own safety nor the full absurdity of
the supposition that the current had washed her ashore.
She was ﬁlled with a vast content because Bar-Bar was
not only alive, but for the past two days pronounced out
of danger by the doctors, though her convalescence
must be slow and tedious after the shock she had re-
ceived.
Thus Prince Ra, who was that afternoon admitted to
see his aunt for the ﬁrst time since the accident, found
her in excellent spirits.
“Hallo, what a shock!” he observed, sitting down
and contemplating her earnestly. “When a man walks
in and sees his best girl with half her face white, and the
other half looking like copper that hasn’t been polished
for a month, he feels a bit rattled, you know!”
“That’s because life’s all externals to him,” quoted
she. “A man of heroic mould would only thank the
kind fates that she was alive, and not mind her Turner-
esque colouring the least bit in the world.”
“My mistake,” went on Ra, regarding her wickedly.
“I thought it was my aunt, and after all it is really a
futurist study of sunset over snow.”
“Oh you priceless idiot!” cried Evadne with fervour.
“Come, let me hug you just for once, to make sure you
are real, and not at the bottom of the Karneru See.”
“Trust old Varley to see to that! If I were there,
he’d be lying at my side, still grasping in his hand of ice
a body with the strange device—”
“Ra, how splendid he seems to have been!”
“They been telling you about it? Yes, he’s the righf
stuff. You may take it from me, he was the only man
of the whole party—except, I suppose, that Pole—who


164 THE KING’S WIDOW
hadn’t drunk more than was good for him. I’m not
saying they were all drunk; but even Theobald had had
more than was advisable; and von Jott, poor devil, was
frankly tipsy. Varley keeps blaming himself for not in-
sisting upon conveying you home. But when one is out
with an ambassador, and one is oneself only a tutor,
one doesn’t want to put it across people more than one
is obliged. They would only have been rude to him if
he had said anything.”
“Of course! He acted ﬁnely throughout, and no
particle of blame attaches to him—what were you say-
ing just now about one of the men—a Pole—being
sober?”
“That waiter chap, Woronz, who jumped in after
you. Do you remember how you told him off, because
one day he lost his way and wandered into your ve-
randa ? Perhaps he thought you might forgive him for
that, if he saved your life.”
“Saved my life!”
Ra stared. “Well, didn’t he?”
“Didn’t the waiter save my life?” she repeated won-
deringly. “But why should he have killed me?”
Ra continued to stare. “Has the futurist scheme of
colouring deranged your once powerful intellect?”
“You say he saved my life, because when he found
me lying unconscious on the beach, he refrained from
murdering me?”
“But my revered aunt—how do you suppose you got
to the beach at all?”
Evadne turned round and punched her pillows with a
red face, trying to envisage a most unwelcome idea. “I
thought the Cloister Current had carried me right
across, and washed me on shore.”
Ra giggled appreciatively.
“Not much. The Cloister Current isn’t so keen on
the monarchy as all that. It would have drowned you


EVADN E ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 165
in a couple of miles of water as soon as looked at you.
Didn’t you know that Stepan Woronz jumped in after
you and swam with you all the way across?”
“Now that, Ra,” cried the princess with unreason-
able anger, “is downright nonsense! A man could
hardly swim all that way alone, but weighed down with
the body of an unconscious woman ”
“Of course he couldn’t have done it if there hadn’t
been a mighty strong stream running in his favour, and
the wind behind him. The most wonderful part of it,
so Mistitch says, is how he managed to escape the
Loophole. One would have thought, once fairly in the
grip of it, he might have strained the last ounce out of
him without getting far enough to his left to be car-
ried past on the outside. But that is what he must have
done ”
“Who says he jumped in after me?”
“Theobald. He saw him do it. Of course they
never thought he could keep it up. They were carried
on much too fast to throw a rope, or do anything to
help. He managed the whole thing ”
“Is this,” said Evadne ungenerously, red spots burn-
ing in her checks, “is this the tale the man himself
tells?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. But the thing
speaks for itself. Where were you when you came
to?”
“Just under the cliff, in the little cove where Tuich
keeps his boat.”
“Well, think a minute, duckie. How did you get
there? The water doesn’t come anywhere near it. It
is high and dry and sheltered from the rain. If you
had been, as you so innocently suppose, washed up by
the water, you would have lain on the edge in the pelt-
ing rain, and have been chilled to death, or perhaps


166 THE KING’S WIDOW
washed back into the lake. Why, when they found you
—-—you were warm."
Evadne sat gazing at the hands clenched in her lap,
her teeth pressing so tightly upon her lower lip that at
last the pain recalled her racing thoughts.
“Did it rain much?” she asked weakly.
“Like the deluge, until some time after dawn.”
In the long pause which followed, the prince rose
and went to get out the Halma board for a game.
“This makes me look a most utter fool, Ra,” fal-
tered Evadne at length. “I was so rude and insolent to
that man. He’s—do you know—such a worm. He
seems made to be trodden upon. But he really must
have thought me the limit—-—”
Ra surveyed her, his mouth puckered as if to whistle.
“Mean to say you thought he was there by accident,
too?”
She nodded, her face hot with a painful blush.
“I didn’t reﬂect—I couldn’t. I felt too ill.”
There was again silence, until all the pieces were ar-
ranged in their respective corners of the board. At
last she murmured shamefacedly :—
“Has anybody thanked him, do you know?”
“Can’t say. Haven’t seen him myself. Better ask
Varley.”
“If I had understood, he ought to have been taken to
the palace and properly looked after. I must send him
some money, mustn’t I?”
“I should think Father will see that he is suitably re-
warded. There was a tremendous rumpus, you know,
the day his Maj. came down to know the reason why.
But old Glanz meanwhile had sneaked off, and by the
time Father got to Veros the whole rabble was back in
Gailima; and I expect the worst of the royal wrath had
Worked off by the time they met.”
Evadne gave but a divided attention to his chatter.


EVADNE ACKNOWLEDGES A DEBT 167
In her there rankled the sting of the thought that she
had behaved with atrocious, unpardonable insolence
and want of consideration to a man who, at risk of his
own life, had saved hers.
She returned to the subject, after a few minutes.
“If I write a—a note to that Pole, will you take it to
Mistitch and ask him to make sure that he gets it ?”
“Does that mean that you’re not going to have a
game ?” '
“Perhaps I will, after I have got this letter off my
mind. Think, Ra, how abominable I have been! A
whole week has passed, and I have not so much as in-
quired after him! I hate to behave meanly—and to be
stupid is even worse!”
“Not stupid,” said Ra with kindly condescension,
“only just a bit hare-brained. Women aren’t supposed
to be able to reason, you know, dearest. Stepan, being
a man himself, will no doubt take that view.”
Evadne’s pretty little features went through the evo-
lutions known as “making a face.” “Horrid little boy!
Go away!” said she.
“Shan’t. I’m going to sit and do a patience till you
have written your letter. Then I’ll take it to Mistitch.
Then I’ll clear off, out of reach of your naughty tem-
per.”
“Ra, you’re a saint, and I—I think I’m growing into
a shrew 1”
“That’s the result of living single. You get married,
and then we’ll see ”
She laughed, with a little doubtful intonation which
made Ra glance up under his eyelashes as he dealt out
eight cards in a row.
“Oh, I don’t say poor old Theobald shone the other
night,” said he. “Good biz! Two aces out in the ﬁrst
line! But how could he help not being able to swim—
, like the Knave of Hearts, you know—historic prece-


CHAPTER XVII
BERUNA AGAIN
UMPHREY VARLEY’S mind, since the boat-
ing catastrophe, had been in a state of some con-
fusion. The action of the man whom he took to be a
spy of Nordernreich, in saving the princess with such
courage and devotion, puzzled him at ﬁrst more than a
little.
Since his own discovery of Anton’s family and the
midnight visit of Stepan to the remote glen, he had had
no chance of communicating with Evadne; and it was
borne in upon him with increasing force that Mistitch
ought to be informed of the fact that the bungalOw had
been entered at night in the teeth of the Forest Guard.
He had talked several times with the Headman, who
was much impressed by the swimming feat of the
waiter, and was inclined to think that they had been
making a huge mistake, and that the Pole was no spy,
but the victim of a hopeless passion. His idea was that,
having seen the princess when he waited upon her, on
the occasion of her taking tea at Veros before the ar-
rival of the embassy, the poor fellow had been smitten
with a romantic devotion, and had since haunted the
grounds with the sole idea of beholding the object of it.
Varley was unable to accept this view. He still be-
lieved the man to be a spy, and upon reﬂection he
thought his life-saving feat quite compatible with such
a theory. Nordernreich wished for a match between
Theobald and Evadne. Then the loss of the lady
through the carelessness of the gentleman would be the
169


170 THE KING’S WIDOW
last thing they either expected or desired. Their spy
had saved the situation, and must be entitled to their
extravagant gratitude.
With a keen desire to explore things further, Varley
congratulated himself upon having established touch
with the house upon Kyriel Moor. He fully intended
to keep the engagement made with Anton on the night
of the accident. Here, however, fate was against him;
for word was brought to him from Anton a few days
after that he regretted very much that they could not
have the pleasure they had hoped for, of seeing Mr.
Varley at supper, as his mother was ill and his sister
occupied in nursing her.
The young man did not bring this message in person,
so Humphrey could neither put questions nor obtain
further information.
When King Boris paid a hurried visit to Florémar,
it was thought best both by Varley and Mistitch to say
nothing at all to him of their suspicions of spying. The
whole thing sounded trivial and far-fetched. Why
should Nordernreich spy upon Evadne?
The answer was obvious enough to Humphrey.
They did so because they suspected that some commu-
nication existed between her and Pannonia. But how
could he make the king believe that? They had no evi-
dence but the message; and Boris had seen one such
message and scoffed at it.
The king was full of gratitude to Humphrey for his
share in the rescue of the survivors from the Loophole.
At it had been at his own express desire that his sister
accepted the invitation to the moonlight picnic, no
blame could attach to any of his party. Varley had
seen that his own particular charge, the Crown Prince,
had been kept out of danger; he had had no authority
to act as guardian to Evadne. His Majesty left orders
for the suitable rewarding of the Pole, ascertained that


BERUNA AGAIN 1 7 1
the baroness had every attention, and went back to
Gailima with his feeling towards the embassy consid-
erably cooled. In his view “old Glanz” had been
culpably negligent, and he was intimating diplomatically
at headquarters that the ambassador was no longer
persona gram in Kilistria.
Varley, waiting outside the bungalow for Ra on a
ﬁne afternoon, was wondering as he strolled and
smoked, how to make some move in the direction of
ﬁnding out more of the transmitter of the secret mes-
sage. The frustration of his plan to go up to Kyriel
Moor vexed him a good deal. The memory of Ber-
una’s face, of the courage and the terror which had
fought each other in her glorious eyes when she looked
at him, was extraordinarily vivid. Ever since he came
to Kilistria, he had been so attracted by the princess
that he had had no eyes for other women; but he had
seen this peasant girl under circumstances of an un-
usual kind; and he had to confess that ever since, she
had haunted his thoughts, waking and sleeping. Ex-
cept for the strenuous hour when he had believed the
princess lost, Beruna had never been out Of his mind.
As he mused and doubted, he saw old Mistitch ap-
proaching. The Headman was looking worried, and
held a letter in his hand.
“What now, old dog?” asked Humphrey affection-
ately.
Mistitch halted, lifted his red cap and scratched his
tousled poll. “Here’s a letter,” he grumbled, “and it
can’t be delivered. A letter from Her Highness to that
Polish waiter, to thank him for saving her life. A
present inside it, to judge by the feel of the thing.” He
contemplated the packet gloomily, passing his thick
ﬁngers over it. “And he’s not to be found. There’s
money His Majesty left for him, and now there’s this;
and the tricky devil has vanished.”


172 THE KING’S WIDOW
!
“Vanished? That’s surprising,” cried Varley.
“Doesn’t Rastitch know where he is?”
“Not he. I’ve just come from Veros. Rastitch says
the fellow has not been back at all since the night of the
storm. A few of his clothes are there still, so they
think he may come for them. I sent down a note two
days ago, telling him there was something for him if he
could come and fetch it. I expected him that night and
last night. To-day I began to wonder.” More head-
scratching.
“Well,” said Varley impatiently, “but Anton must
know where he is.”
Mistitch looked surprised.
doesn’t. Why should he ?”
“He was last seen in Anton’s company, I gather.”
“Oh yes. But Anton does not know where he went.
He showed him the way up the cliff and directed him
towards the high road to the railway station. He said
he was going to Gailima.”
“Ha [H
“Yes—ha!” said Mistitch half mocking. “As you
say, sir. I should not wonder if a letter addressed
care of the embassy were to reach him. I ﬁnd that Ra-
stitch knows nothing of him, except that he came and
offered his services a few days before the arrival of the
embassy, when the hotel staff was not made up, and
they were glad to take on anybody.”
“Had he no references?”
“He gave some hotel in Warsaw, where he said he
had passed the winter. But I don’t believe Rastitch
took it up.”
“That seems mighty careless of Rastitch, with em-
bassies about.”
“All these Kilistrians are alike. We are too honest
and too simple. We always get done.”
“Anton? Oh no, he
l


BERUNA AGAIN 173
Varley was staring meditatively at the Headman, his
own mouth puckered into a silent whistle.
“Mistitch,” said he at last, “where did you get An-
ton from?”
“Anton?” Mistitch stared. “He’s a Rumanian, An-
ton is.”
“A foreigner! In the Forest Guard?”
“Well, it was like this. He was in this country when
we went to war and he enlisted in our army. He dis-
tinguished himself greatly at Vorda, and again at Mysl.
There he got a wound in the leg that took a very long
time to heal. So the king sent him here. I have had
him nearly twelve months, and he’s the best lad I’ve
got. A clean conduct sheet.”
“H’m!” said Varley absentmindedly.
Mistitch eyed him avidly out of his clear mud-brown
eyes. “Have you got anything against him?” he
asked.
“Nothing at all. But, as Stepan Woronz is a friend
of his-——”
“Come, come, what makes you say that?”
“Stepan Woronz visited Anton’s cottage on Kyriel
Moor at dead of night, two days before the great
storm.”
Mistitch continued to bore Varley through with his
gimlet gaze.
“And was Mr. Varley visiting there also? Ah, sir,
be careful. I am told the young Rumanian girl is so
lovely that her mother and brother keep her enclosed
like a nun.”
“I didn’t know she existed when I went up there,
Mistitch. I was just taking a stroll, and I came upon
their cottage, lit up so that you could see it all the way
down the glen. I knocked and asked my way. You are
quite right about the girl’s beauty, I admit it. They
were tremendously upset at my visit, you could see they


174 THE KING’S WIDOW
were expecting somebody. They hustled me out pretty
quick, but I saw the supper table laid for four; and I
saw Stepan Woronz arrive shortly afterwards.”
Mistitch stood digesting these facts. “So that was
it,” he remarked slowly. “That was what Woronz
was after, not our princess after all.”
“It may be so. You were on the quay when Anton
asked me to go up there to supper, were you not ?”
“I was.”
“He wanted to cover up any suspicions that may
have remained in me. He did not know I had seen the
visitor that night. Afterwards he sent me an excuse.
He did not mean me to go there really.”
Mistitch pulled his cap right off and clawed his hair
with both hairy ﬁsts.
“Anton has applied for leave of absence,” he said.
“He has to go to Gailima for a few days to have his
teeth attended to.”
“Is that so?” said Humphrey thoughtfully. “Well,
of course the Pole may go up there after Anton’s sister
—or—~he may—I tell you what, old dog. I think I
shall go up there myself and pay a call while Anton is
away. If you will hand over that letter, it will make an
excuse for my appearance. I can say that we think An-
ton may have the man’s address.”
Mistitch nodded his great head slowly, his eyes still
probing those of the Englishman.
“Remember,” he said, “that thou art a man and
young—quick-blooded, too, for all thou art so quiet.
Will the girl beguile thee?”
Varley was astonished to ﬁnd how angry this sugges-
tion made him. “Heavens, Mistitch, she isn’t that
kind,” said he quickly.
“No? Well, I take thy word. Go and see if thou
canst ﬁnd out more than I know. Youth to youth, after
all.”


BERUNA AGAIN 175
It was as a result of this conversation that, next day,
as soon as Ra had gone to visit the invalid princess,
Varley found himself ascending the path that wound
beside the torrent, up to Kyriel Moor. Mistitch had
undertaken to invite Prince Ra to come out ﬁshing with
him after tea, so the tutor was at liberty for the whole
afternoon.
The path by daylight was astonishingly wild and
beautiful, and he met no single human creature from
the moment of leaving the palace grounds.
Some obscure action of his subjective mind caused
him, as he ascended, to whistle to himself the air which
Anton had whistled at the same place as he went up.
It was quite unconsciously that he did so; he was “giv-
ing out the theme” (as the concert programmes have
it), in his especially clear and sweet whistle as he passed
the point where the steep path from the lake joined the
one by which he was ascending, at the verge of the
stream, which just there turned in a sharp elbow.
Pausing, as unconsciously as he had begun, he stood,
arms behind him, gazing down into the rushing water
at his feet; when he heard an answering whistle, not
strong, but clear and sweet, accompanied by a scuﬂling
sound as though someone were scrambling down from
the little wood upon the path behind him. Before he
could turn round, two arms clipped him, and a glad
voice cried in English—“How wonderful! How did
you get back so soon?”
So swift, so unlooked-for was the attack that for the
first instant, Humphrey felt paralysed. Instinctively
he put up his hands, and caught the two slight wrists
which had been ﬂung about him. As he did so, he
turned to look over his shoulder, and encountered the
exquisite little face of Beruna, so close to his that he
could have kissed her parted lips.
Such a face! It might have been fresh blown that


176 ' THE KING’S WIDOW
morning, like a blossom, so ﬁne was its quality, so
stainless its radiance.
The vision was but for a second. Instantly the ex-
pression of eager welcome was changed into fear—a
cry left the lips, expressing more than fear—he trans-
lated it to mean loathing.
Her hands were wrenched from his, and she was
away, ﬂying up the rocky path in an attempt to escape
Which was naturally foredoomed to failure.
_.
’ 'r '1»


178 THE KING’S WIDOW
at once to reply to this unexpected attack. “I remained
at the Court of Kilistria by the special instructions of
my Government, to encourage the pro-Ally feeling
there; and when King Boris declared war, I went with
his army to the front.”
There was both dignity and patience in his manner
as he made his explanation, and the girl looked as if
she felt it. She hung her head, but the innocent ruse
did not hide her blush; and Varley decided that she was
the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. She did
not however capitulate.
“I believe you to be a spy,” said she. “Why are you
here? Why did you come the other night, so late, to
our cottage?”
“A spy—here?” echoed .Varley like one astounded.
“What could put the idea of a spy into your head?
Why should a spy come here? What is there for him
to discover?”
“There is nothing,” she replied, evidently discon-
certed. “So—so why do you come—twice—up here
where no one ever comes—for nothing?”
He thought how easily he could have made a purely
personal reply; but this would have been fatal.
“So you remember that I came before?” was all that
it occurred to him to say. He said it gently, under his
breath; and was astonished at the result. Tears sprang
to her eyes and she ﬂashed a look of passionate resent-
ment.
“1 have not forgiven you,” she said. “You looked at
me, and you doubted my word. Yes, you did.”
Varley smiled slightly.
“It was not wise of Anton to show me so plainly that
he wanted to get rid of me,” he retorted. “I could see
that you were expecting a visitor to supper. Kilistrian
peasants don’t indulge in all that blaze of light for


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE? 179
nothing, you know. I happen to know also, who your
expected guest was ”
Once more he obtained an effect he had been far
from expecting. Her face became utterly drained of
colour. She made a small sound in her throat, and sank
down upon a stone at the side of the rough way, hold-
ing out her hands as if to shut away the sight of him.
“Oh, you can’t—you can’t!” she muttered. “You
say that to terrify me! Even you can’t know who he
is!”
“Well, I dare say the name he goes by is not his
own,” replied Varley easily. “He calls himself Stepan
Woronz, and if we want to be polite, we will say he is a
secret service agent, shall we?”
He spoke thus plainly, because he thought it only
just to make her aware that he did know who their
visitor was. Oddly enough his words seemed to afford
her intense relief. The strain of her expression re-
laxed, and her colour began to come back. She smiled
a secret smile to herself as if to say that all was not
lost. “It is then of Stepan Woronz that you have come
here to speak?” she asked.
“Yes. He has not been seen since your brother was
left with him down there on the beach, at Tuich’s
cove. As you have doubtless heard, he performed a
wonderful act of heroism, and Her Highness the prin-
cess has written him an autograph letter of thanks.
It cannot be delivered, for nobody knows where he is.
Do you think”—he hesitated, looking down upon her
demure face, now composed into an expression of some
complacency—“do you think that if I entrust the letter
to you, Stepan Woronz is likely to receive it?”
She hesitated.
“He has gone away. I do not know where,” she
said at last.


182 THE KING’S WIDOW
was restless, and her eyes roamed up and down the
path as if in fear of being interrupted. Yet he had a
feeling that she was not hostile. He believed that if
she could grow to trust him she might like him
She herself put an end to the talk, after waiting as
thofugh to offer him the chance of taking leave him-
sel .
“I must now wish you good afternoon,” said she
with dignity. “I must go home. Please understand
that all I can promise with regard to this letter is to
show it to my brother. As it contains something of
value, he will very likely decline to take charge of it.”
“In that case, he can bring it back to me, or return
it to the princess herself. Well, good-bye, if I must
go. I accept my dismissal, and am very sensible of
your kindness in letting me talk to you a little. I—I
ﬁnd this glen very beautiful. I—may come exploring
it again some day. If I do, I will put one or two
English novels in my pocket, in hopes that I may meet
you—eré—somewhere about.”
“I do not often come down here,” was her reply,
and her voice was very cold. “So I beg you will not
put yourself to any trouble of the kind.”
He did not answer this chilling speech; and after a
moment’s pause she glanced up to ﬁnd out why he was
silent. This was just what he wished her to do. She
encountered his honest, kindly eyes, their expression
touched with something else—something more subtle
than honesty or kindness. As old Mistitch had it,
youth speaks to youth. The youth in Humphrey
reached out delicate tentacles and touched something in
the girl before him. Her lips parted slightly, and she
drew in her breath.
“So,” he said in a very low voice, after some seconds
of this silent interchange. “You forbid me to come
any more?”


184 THE KING’S WIDOW
struck a sound. It was the signal whistle ascending
from the glen.
Humphrey came to a standstill. In a ﬂash there
pierced him the remembrance that he had ascended
the mountainside that day upon the princess’s errand.
He had come to make discoveries, and he had dis-
covered nothing at all. He had merely improved ac-
quaintance with a girl so bewitching that
Shame made him hot. Yes, there was one thing he
had ascertained. The agitation of Beruna concerning
Stepan Woronz was very signiﬁcant. She had been
terribly disturbed upon ﬁnding him the object of sus-
picion. Was it he who was now ascending the path?
Would she come behind him and ﬂing her soft arms,
whose encirclement Humphrey seemed still to feel,
around him?
The thought was conspicuously unpleasant. How-
ever, in any case, his present duty was clear. He must
reach a spot whence he could see who came, whence
he could observe the meeting, supposing that Beruna,
upon hearing the signal, should turn back.
When ﬁrst he heard the whistle, it had been from
some way down. Now the whistler had turned a cor-
ner, and it was fainter. As he crept very cautiously
along the wood, nearer and nearer to the path, it
sounded clearer every moment.
There was an elder bush, growing thickly, close to
the edge of the bank. If he lay down ﬂat and wrig-
gled himself under it, he would be able to see a short
stretch of the path below him, just at the place where
the two ways met.
He accomplished his purpose quite deftly; but it
took time. When at last he had wriggled himself far
enough forward to command the scene, the meeting
was already over. Beruna, slightly ﬂushed with run-


WILL SHE BEGUILE THEE? 185
ning, was talking some little way up the track to a
man who stood with his back to Varley.
The very ﬁrst glance kindled afresh all the suspi-
cions which Beruna had so skilfully laid asleep. This
man was a total stranger, a Kilistrian of the lower
class, bearing upon his back a pedlar’s pack. His face
was covered with a short, stubby, greyish beard, and
his shoulders bowed together. He was probably the
only person whose presence upon those unfrequented
paths would excite no suspicion. Varley had seen many
of his type in roaming about the open country.
Had it not been for the signal whistle, there was
nothing to suggest mystery.
But Humphrey had heard the whistle, and knew
that Beruna had walked so far down the path solely
in order to hear and answer it.
She was talking fast and eagerly, but in tones so
subdued that the listener could not catch a word, nor
even be certain what language she employed. The
man listened quietly, nodded two or three times, and
then apparently told her something which pleased her,
for she clapped her hands together softly, and her
eyes danced. Then she seemed to turn the subject.
She gave him some information, pointing towards the
wood, and Humphrey thought she must be mention-
ing his visit. At the same time, she drew from her
apron pocket the letter which he had given her for
Woronz, and handed it to the pedlar. He took it,
looked at it, and began to slip his pack from his back
with rather surprising celerity, questioning her closely
while he hid the envelope in his pocket. Then, turn-
ing his queer little old face, with red-rimmed eyes and
chin stubble, he peered up at the wood so keenly that
the Englishman made certain that he was detected.
He had the presence of mind to remain perfectly
motionless; and, after some more hurried words, the


186 THE KING’S WIDOW
pedlar left Beruna in charge of his wares, took the
steep bank at a run, and entered the wood not so very
many yards above the elder bush beneath which Hum-
phrey was lying perdu.
The concealed man held his breath; for, if the
pedlar’s design was to search along the fringe, he
must ﬁnd what he sought. But he did no such thing.
He stood for a moment listening keenly, as though to
catch a distant sound of movement; then he began to
run, very ﬂeetly, away towards the short cut which
Humphrey had meant to take, and which the pursuer
evidently thought he had taken.


CHAPTER XIX
THE PEDLAR
UMPHREY returned from Kyriel Moor in
a passion of regret, the force of which sur-
prised himself.
He had ascertained that Anton and his family were
conspirators, and the idea of conspiracy, associated
with Beruna, was simply horrible to contemplate. He
told himself that she was an unpractised, a nervous
conspirator, that she had innocently given herself
away repeatedly in their talk together, yet the fact re-
mained. She had broken her promise to hand the
letter to her brother, and had given it to a low-class
spy. She was false, and her face and her eyes should
have belonged to such a woman as an English peer
might take to wife without sullying his blood.
All that he had discovered so far was that some
network of intrigue surrounded the princess.
He had felt sure, from the ﬁrst, that the message
upon her dressing-table could have been placed there
only by a member of the guard, or with his conni-
vance. It now seemed proved that Anton was the
man. This suggested that Anton must be in the ser-
vice, not of Nordernreich, but of Pannonia. Against
such a theory was the damning fact of his known
friendship with Woronz; for it seemed fairly certain
that the latter was a Nordern spy. He had offered
his services at the hotel only after the visit of the
embassy was already arranged.
By dint of inquiries at the Kron Prinz, Humphrey
187


THE PEDLAR 189
The Headman listened with grim interest to the
young man’s tale, and blamed him bluntly for not in-
sisting upon his being informed at once.
“Anton should have been made to speak,” he de-
clared. “As things are, our best course would be
to let him go on duty as usual, and to have him watched
all the time. But he is not likely, one would suppose,
to repeat that manoeuvre.”
The old man laughed in his hairy throat. “A week
ago, I should have been quite likely to put Anton him-
self on to watch anyone who had aroused my sus-
picions. Put not your trust in any child of man!”
“I have been wondering,” said Varley thoughtfully,
“whether it would not be well to consult Baron Her-
luin. If any man could throw light on the matter it
should be he. He was our ambassador in Dalmeira,
and saw the dead king lie in state. I have half a mind
to go and consult him.”
“You cannot do that just now,” replied the Head-
man, “for he has gone to Gailima.”
“Gone to Gailimal” cried Humphrey in great sur-
prise. “Why, how is that? I thought he never went.”
“He went two days since, upon a royal summons,”
replied the Headman.
“That’s odd, too,” replied Humphrey. “Odd things
seem to be happening just now.”
Baron Herluin, as has been said, had been excused
from any attendance at Court since he gave his ad-
vice strongly and uncompromisingly in favour of the
Allies and against Nordernreich. He had opposed the
king and the king could not pardon it. He lived in
complete seclusion in his ﬁne castle upon Kyriel Moor,
and those who wished to be popular at Court did not
visit him.
“Did His Majesty, when he came down, say any-


190 THE KING’S WIDOW
thing to you about expecting a visit from the Grand
Duke of Marvilion ?” asked the Headman slowly.
Humphrey started. “N 0, not a word. That would
be good news indeed.” '
“Well, I am told that the Grand Duke is now in
Gailima, incognito; and I think that is most likely
why Baron Herluin has been sent for.”
“Why, Mistitch, this seems to throw more light—
something may be actually brewing with regard to
Pannonia. If there is anything, of course the Swash-
buckler is the man to know of it—and Nordernreich
would give its head to ﬁnd out, so is spying and nosing
round here—by the way, old dog, you may speak quite
frankly to me. I know from Her Highness herself
that she was actually married to the King of Pan-
nonia.”
“Humph! So you know that much? Perhaps Nor-
dernreich has also discovered the fact. So they think,
if anything is afoot, they may do better down here in
the way of picking up information than they would in
the capital. Well, we must do our poor best to thwart
them. One of the brood is at Veros still—Theobald.
He is to be admitted to see Her Highness to-mor-
row afternoon, so I hear.”
“Mistitch, if that message is by any miracle
true——-”
The Headman brought down his ﬁst with a thump
upon the horny palm of his other hand. “It can’t be
_ true! The man is dead and buried. He didn’t dis-
appear—it wasn’t like one of these tales of a man
being missing. They pierced him with knives, like
sticking pins into a cushion—they dragged his body
along the street. Then they put it into the cathedral
and lit candles all round, and came kneeling and sob-
bing like so many naughty children—when it was too


THE PEDLAR 191
late. The baron can tell you that. He was there at
the time. Many a thing he told me——-”
“Then if it isn’t true ”
“What are they trying to do? Who is practising
upon us? You ask me that, and before God I cannot
answer you. But I will. You and I went together,
boy, into the Loophole itself for her sake. We’ll
not leave her now, until we ﬁnd out.”

When Theobald presented himself at the bunga-
low On the afternoon of the following day he was
looking handsomer than ever. A little anxiety, a little
pallor, the shadow of a real shock had given depth to
his eyes and added to his expression a sincerity which
had been perhaps the one thing he lacked before.
Baroness Alberta was alone present when he made
his entry; and she held out both hands to him, begging
to be excused from rising, as she was still extremely
weak'.
“Ah, Prince, I have been longing to see you! How
'good you were to me upon that terrible rock! But
for you I must have perished! The horror of the
whole scene—the black, wet walls, the roaring of the
ﬂood—the swiftness of that ghastly water rushing by!
It drew me with a horrible attraction! But for your
clasp I must have thrown myself in! I was hypno-
tised, as they say, by the force of it!”
“Thank you, Baroness,” replied the young man, al-
most humbly. “You are the sole creature, I fear, who
has any cause to feel grateful to me. Will the prin-
cess ever forgive me, do you think? Heavens, what
I have endured since that awful night! Tell me, how
is she?”
“But positively wonderful! The bruise is not yet
gone, but she looks lovely, though perhaps still a triﬂe
shaken—a thing like that is very unnerving, you know.”


194 THE KING’S WIDOW
amusements in her rustic retirement. Theobald set-
tled down to the pleasure of being admitted to so
charming an intimacy. Evadne had not thought that
she could like him so well. The Nordern arrogancy
had been clean drained out of him, and he showed
himself quite lovable in his new humility.
When tea was over he begged to be shown the gar-
den. Evadne wavered a moment, but felt it best to
comply. Nothing would be gained now by fending
him off. It was wiser to face things.
As soon as they were alone together he began to
pour out his heart; and so completely did he acknowl-
edge his own unworthiness that she was more moved
than she would have thought possible.
He had come there that day, he said, hoping noth-
ing—looking, at the utmost, for mere toleration. Her
gracious reception had lit up the hopes he thought
dead. He had come into Kilistria, a sceptic where
love was concerned. The change which had been
wrought in him was described with an eloquence which
nothing could arrest until he had poured forth the
greater part of what he had to say.
Had he known that he was actually the ﬁrst man to
make love to the beautiful creature who sat among
the roses listening to him, he might have pushed his
advantage even further; for to a woman in the bloom
of her health and strength, the ﬁrst man who says
he loves her may be compared to the rod of Moses
striking the rock and releasing the ﬂood which had
been pent up behind.
During these past, wasted years her life had been
desolate; and now love was calling! Why not? Why
not? Merely because she knew she was not in love
with Theobald?—or because she could not do away
with the memory of what she had felt in her early


THE PEDLAR 195
girlhood when her young royal unknown lover sent
her a golden key?
Theobald was leaning over the back of the seat
whereon she sat; he had caught her hand, was holding
it crushed against his lips, he was pressing his advan-
tage, and she was weak—weak—and thirsting to be
loved.
Conquering her agitation only with a painful effort,
she managed to speak. “Wait!” she gasped faintly—
“you go too fast! Please—please wait ”
“As long as you desire! I’ll bear anything you lay
upon me! I know I don’t deserve——”
“It isn’t that,” she faltered, averting her eyes from
his, alight with all the magnetism of sex; “it is that
I am not sure—it is that there is a reason why I can’t—-
I can’t answer you tO-day! Will you be good—will
you do as I ask?”
“Can you doubt it?”
“Then go away! Leave Veros! I want you to go
to Gailima—and to promise not to see me, not to try
to see me—for a week.”
“A week!” Had she said a year there could hardly
have been more tragedy in his voice.
“Yes. A week. There are my terms. If you will
come back in a week I will tell you—I will tell you
what you want to know.”
He still leaned over, very near, and she heard his
sharply drawn breath. “Are you sure you understand
what it is that I wish to know?” he murmured.
“1—1 am under the impression that you do me the
honour to wish me to be your wife?”
“Of course. But not”—his voice seemed breaking
with excess of feeling—“not unless you can love me
too.”
Evadne smiled the smile which the best of women
may smile when she holds a man in the hollow of her


196 THE KING’S wmow
hand. “I will tell you this much, I like you better
to-day than ever before—much better. If you could
guess how sure I felt of saying ‘No’ before you came,
you might value my change of feeling as you ought.”
“As I do,” he broke in passionately. “I should in-
deed be a fool not to let well alone. There is a hope,
then—there is a hope, Evadne?”
“A hope,” she replied swiftly, “but not a certainty”
—-she withdrew her hand with a motion as though she
retreated into herself; and her lover was quick to ac-
cept the change.
“I may write to you?” he pleaded. “I may write
during this endless week that I am to live through
alone?”
“As you like about that; but do not expect to hear
anything from me until the week is over.”
He uttered a long sigh, leaning over her till her
hair brushed his cheek. “Evadne!—Evadne!” he
whispered, pleading in his tone if not with words-—
such pleading as only a man completely in earnest
can use.
The girl thrilled to the call of nature. Her breast
heaved beneath its soft white draperies. The words
which had danced before her eyes during the inter-
view—those little stabbing words—
“Votre mari vit encore. Vous n’étes pas veuve”
seemed to fade before the magic power of Theobald’s
eager manhood.
She had almost lifted her bent head—almost raised
her untouched lips to the call of his—when a sound
of scurrying and laughter among the garden alleys
broke upon their cars.
In a ﬂash the charm was snapped. The princess sat
upright, the prince drew himself erect. The sound
was drawing nearer, growing louder; in another mo-


THE PEDLAR 197
ment there broke into sight a group of girls—Nada
and about half a dozen others from the palace house-
hold, surrounding a little old pedlar who came along,
smiling a curious smile with lips tight shut, his sparse
grey locks hanging over his bushy grey brows like a
terrier’s, and his cracked voice raised in an inward
laugh.
As they all romped and tumbled about him, de-
bouching from a sidewalk into the broad walk at the
end of which the lovers were seated, he was the ﬁrst
to note their presence.
“Ha!” cried he shrilly, waving his hand, “more
customers! More customers, and they illustrious!
Great and mighty prince, will you not buy your lady
a ribbon for luck from the Old pedlar?”
Nada, among the girls, as great a romp as the best
of them, came to a very sudden halt when she realised
to whom the old man was addressing his impertinence.
She uttered a warning cry, and her companions scat-
tered like clucking fowls, with glances of apprehension
over their shoulders, and were out of sight in a moment.
But Theobald, as it chanced, was pleased. The old
man had with the unerring instinct of his class recog-
nised that he and the princess were lovers. That they
should appear in 'such a light, even though the prin-
cess’s maid were the sole spectator, was just what Theo-
bald desired. Pedlars were notorious gossips. This
one would be, in the course of the afternoon, relating
in who knew how many inn parlours the proud fact
that he had sold a token to Prince Theobald for the
lovely Princess Evadne. The young man broke into
his jolly laugh and said:
“But how delightful! This old boy is full of local
colour! How adorable your Kilistria is! You are like
one great family, and the peasantry buy their goods
from pedlars with packs on their backs as if it were


198 THE KING’S WIDOW
the Middle Ages! May I call him hither, my prin-
cess?”
To the girl also, after the first shock of displeasure
at the invasion of her privacy, the appearance of the
old man was welcome. It had solved a difficult mo-
ment. She had now recovered her self-possession, had
herself in hand, and could at the right moment bid
her lover a composed good-bye. She laughed her con-
sent, and the pedlar, followed by Nada, drew near
upon the beckoning of Theobald’s hand.
“Oh, ma’am,” Nada could not resist speaking,
though in mortal fear of rebuke, “he has such pretty
things—and he tells fortunes too! He has told Silia
all about her lover, just as though he knew him—and
he has charms to sell—charms which will keep you
from all evil—which will keep your lover faithful ”
“That is what I want,” cried Theobald eagerly.
“Come, old father, let us see your magical wares-—
have you something to make my lady love me as I love
her?”
The old man gave his odd chuckle. He stooped
before Evadne, presenting to her an open case which
hung before him by means of straps. It was stocked
with little ornaments, prettily set with the stones which
abound in the mountains of Marvilion—garnet, ame-
thyst, and turquoise matrix.
He spoke in so broad a patois that it was fortunate
Nada was present and could interpret.
“What surprisingly pretty things!” cried Evadne
girlishly, as she began to handle them. The vendor rat-
tled off their various qualities, the garnet heart which
compels a return of love, the turquoise which changes
colour if the beloved, when absent, is ill, or in danger,
or dead.
“You must have them all,” said Theobald softly to
Evadne.


202 THE KING’S WIDOW
“All these years Europe has been at war. Now
things have shaken down, and she is lovelier than ever
she was as a girl. I hope from the bottom of my
heart that she will marry! I would rather see her
married to an English noble like Mr. Varley, who is
now heir to a title, than see her wither away in this lost
corner—”
“But she ought to be a queen
“Only she can’t, without a king to make her one!”
There was a slight pause before Herluin asked
whether Theobald had made the offer of his hand in
form.
“Well, yes, he has, as a matter of fact; he came
here three days ago and proposed to her in the garden.
He made a deep impression, there is no doubt about
that; but she would not give him a deﬁnite answer, so
he could not apply to the king. He is to wait a week.”
“A week?”
“She goes to Gailima in a few days time. I suppose
she wants to consult her brother.”
The baron twirled his pale grey trilby meditatively
on the top of his stick.
“Well,” said he after thought, “I am glad she is
not in too much haste to decide. I don’t like what I
hear of this young man. He is in debt everywhere,
and has the character of being wild. There were
tales of various goings-on at Veros ”
“He’s very much in love. Really in love, I assure
you, Baron. And she is so full of character. She
could hold a man.”
“I daresay,” replied he with a sigh, “but I have
been mistaken in her. I was under the impression that
the shock of Leonhardt’s murder had been what you
might call permanent.”
“God forbid !” cried Bar-Bar with fervour; and upon


A LOVE LETTER 203
the prayer, Evadne and Ra came running out upon
the veranda, eagerly demanding tea.
Herluin, studying the princess closely, could not
avoid remarking that her face was full of the stir of
new feelings. The apathy which he had grown accus-
tomed to behold in her was all broken up. For the
ﬁrst time she was tasting the excitement of holding a
man’s happiness in her hands, and knowing that during
the next few days she must decide her fate and his.
She was poised upon the edge of adventure, and her
manner showed a restlessness and variability which
were both new in her.
“Where’s Varley?” asked the baron presently; and
she turned with a little start.
“Oh! I had forgotten! I am afraid you and he will
miss each other! He dismounted at your gates and
sent his horse home with the groom, saying he should
walk to Castle Kyriel, and call upon you.”
“He had business, I think, with one of the guard,
who lives ‘up there somewhere—on Kyriel Moor,”
volunteered Ra, handing cake.
“Varley had business”——began the baron; and
stopped. “Only one of the guard lives on Kyriel
Moor,” said he, “the Rumanian—Anton.”
“Yes. That’s the one. He and I are altering the
rigging on the Halcyon. Varley went to take him some
screws.”
There was a queer little smile in the baron’s eyes.
“Well, it’s a pleasant walk, though the country’s a
bit wild,” said he, rising. “Baroness, may I trouble
you with a message from me to Mr. Varley? I under-
stand you are all leaving Florémar very shortly, and
I want to see him before he goes. Will you ask him
to come to déjeuner with me to-morrow at twelve
o’clock? Say I wish to see him particularly.”
Alberta thought it would be safest to write the in-


204 THE KING’S WIDOW
vitation upon the back of a card; and when this had
been done Herluin took his leave.
The three whom he left behind supped together.
Varley did not return.
As the hot dusk fell over the lake a wave of depres-
sion transformed Evadne’s mood.
In the midst of her excitement she knew well enough
that she did not love Theobald. She was nearer to
loving the Englishman than the Norderner. Yet, if
she surrendered Theobald, what had the future to
offer her? Nothing but a gradual fading, the slow sad
process of growing year by year a little less young, a
little less desirable, a little more obviously a superﬂu-
ous woman.
The time would come inexorably when she could no
longer swim, nor ride, nor row.
She felt that she could not bear it. She must escape
through the open door, must make haste lest it shut
in her face.
She was captions and impatient, more than once she
snapped at her adored Ra. Alberta, watching her
darling with eyes more observant than most people
suspected, saw that she was yearning to be alone with
her thoughts.
The faithful soul accordingly pleaded fatigue at an
early hour. Her carrying-chair and bearers were sum-
moned, and she marched Prince Ra off, leaving Evadne
to the solitude which the girl half feared, half desired.
As the baroness and her attendants reached the
palace Varley came out and stood upon the steps. He
looked disappointed.
“Why, how early you have come back! I was just
going to walk down and fetchiyou,” said he discon-
tentedly.
“Yes. Her Highness grows easily tired since her


A LOVE LETTER 205
accident. In your absence I took it upon myself to
bring His Highness home,” replied Bar-Bar a little
coldly. “You have been for a long walk, Mr. Varley.”
Humphrey was quick to feel the reproof in the kind
vorce.
“I am sorry. I was kept,” said he hastily, his mind
evidently preoccupied with some other idea. “I sup-
pose Her Highness won’t have gone to bed already,
will she? I want to see her. She would admit me,
don’t you think?”
“N 0,” said the baroness promptly. “She cannot see
you. She was retiring at once.”
“But if I run all the way I mighf catch her ”
Bar-Bar made an imperious motion of her hand;
and Humphrey, a little puzzled, came forward, helped
her from her chair, and led her into the hall.
Ra had run off upon some errand of his own; and
the lady addressed the young man urgently.
“I cannot permit you to go to Water Gate to-night,
Mr. Varley.”
“Not? But it is really rather important, Bar-Bar.”
“Baron Herluin, who called this afternoon, spoke
quite severely to me of my indiscretion in allowing the
princess to ride with you. You will thus see how im-
possible it is for you to 'go and see her at night and
téte-‘a-téte. You must feel yourself that it is not con-
venable.”
He looked rebellious.
“Hang appearances! Since when have y0u grown so
prunes-prism? I have something to tell the princess
which she really ought to hear.”
“It cannot be anything which will not wait until to-
morrow morning, Mr. Varley.”
Humphrey took a few steps uncertainly along the
hall and back again.
“N—no,” said he, pausing in deep thought, his hands


A LOVE LETTER 207
Very softly a wandering zephyr sighed past her,
bringing a welcome coolness. The blossoming of the
syringa was nearly over, but some ﬂowers still lin-
gered on the tree, and their perfume—love’s very
breath—was in the mysterious air.
Never had she felt more wakeful. Her very soul
was restless.
It was not that she feared nocturnal disturbance. In
the Headman’s present mood, she knew there was no
chance of that. Her open bungalow was as safe as a
fortress.
What she suffered from was irresolution. What she
craved was certainty. She wanted the week to be over,
the die to be cast, the decision to be taken.
Surely if anything could soothe her fretted mind, it
would be to seat herself in the open air, blotted, as the
expressive French word has it, in the great shadow of
night. She forced herself to remain motionless; she
tried to make her brain a blank, to banish thought.
It was a vain attempt. In all her being was the in-
articulate cry of the young vital creature for its mate.
The warmth, the silence, the mystery of darkness, were
stimulating, not lulling her senses. When the hush was
broken by a low, continuous knocking upon her bed-
room door, she started unnecessarily, and had to con-
strain herself to give Nada leave to enter.
“Oh, Highness, are you still upon the veranda?
How glad I am that you are not yet asleep! Here is
a letter for you from Prince Theobald, and I thought
you ought to have it to-night. It has just come from
Gailima by special messenger.”
Evadne thrilled. Her suitor had chosen his mo-
ment well. It was a night for love letters. More-
over, the fact that his message did not arrive through
the post gave an effect of urgency, of desire that would


208 THE KING’S WIDOW
not be denied. As Nada slipped away she saw, with
satisfaction, that her mistress had lit her electric lamp
and was sitting in its light upon the veranda opening
the envelope.
Theobald enlarged upon the lover’s age-long plea
that, although she did not love him as yet, his love
must eventually compel hers. Before his urgency and
his devotion the pricking thought of the two warnings
paled and grew distant.
She sat forward, elbows upon her knees, chin cra-
dled in her hands, and felt the current of her being
swing perceptibly in the direction of consent.
After some time there broke upon her musings the
low mutter of thunder. Then, instantaneously, the
lightning, dagger-like, cleft the purple cloud canopy
down to the level of the calm lake itself for one miracu-
lous glimpse. She thought something dark, like the
head of a swimmer, moved upon the smooth expanse;
but it was gone in the twinkling of an eye.
Rising to her feet she extinguished the lamp and
re-entered her room. She closed behind her the light
wrought-iron gates, beaten out in a forest forge by a
member of the Forest Guard.
As she lay down in bed she felt convinced that the
approaching storm would keep her awake for the re-
mainder of the night; but it came up very slowly. She
recalled its distant menace, hour after hour, upon the
night of that bewildering voyage of hers through the
Cloister Current.
It made one reﬂect upon the perverseness of fate—
the imperfect stage-management of real life; for it was
not the handsome lover whose burning words lay beside
her pillow, but a tired waiter without a shirt-collar—
an underling whose very presence had been an offence
to her—to whom alone she owed the fact that she now


CHAPTER XXI
IN TH E DARK
HAT awoke her was a tremendous crash.
The thunderstorm, after the manner of its
kind, had travelled in a circle and so returned. It was
bursting just over Florémar in all its grandeur.
Pale violet ﬂashes lit up the room, the bed, the fo-
liage of the garden in a series of instantaneous photo-
graphs; and then, with a murmur as of desire long
frustrated, now at last fulﬁlled, down came the steamy,
hissing rain.
Evadne had never been afraid of the storms to which
the lake and its neighbouring hills were frequently sub-
ject. Nada had orders not to come into her room
unless summoned by the sound of the electric bell.
To-night, however, after some breathless minutes of
tumult which was like the walls of Jericho falling down,
the princess became conscious that she was afraid.
Her heart was beating in slow, heavy strokes. She
cowered in her bed, hiding her eyes from the piercing
brilliance of the lightning. Was it fear that she felt,
or was it nervous apprehension? She seemed to be in
the grip of the same kind of agitation which she had
passed through when she found the message on her
toilet-table. In plain words, she had a strong impres-
sion that there was someone beside herself in the room.
The outburst which had awakened her was for the
moment over. The gloom, when at last she uncovered
her eyes, was absolute. She could not even see the
square shapes of her windows against the night out-
side. The darkness was like something tangible, in-
210


'IN THE DARK 211
tervening between her and the air—bending over her.
She even believed that she could hear the sound of
breathing. After some minutes of endurance the form-
less terror became unbearable and she determined to
make a light.
Raising herself with a spring to an upright position
she stretched out her arm towards the lamp on her
bed-table—and her wrist was grasped, not roughly, but
very ﬁrmly, by a strong hand.
The moment she felt the concrete touch panic left
her and her pluck revived. To her right, just within
easy reach on the wall at her bed-head, dangled the
push of her bell.
Without an instant’s hesitation she ﬂung herself over
to grasp it.
Whereupon the person who held her left wrist
stooped right over her and caught the other also.
Before she had time to realise the awfulness of her
position a whisper came to her, from very close to
her ear—an urgent, panting whisper, as from one who
has run fast—
“If you cry out you’ll have a life on your conscience.
For the love of Christ keep still—listen a mo-
ment——”
She broke in, whispering also. “Let me go. Cease
to touch me. Tell me what you want.”
She never knew afterwards what made her refrain
from shrieking. Something in the pant of the exhaust-
ed whisper must have pierced through conventions,
down to the bedrock of nature itself. Her forbearance,
it seemed, was justiﬁed, for at once the grasp which
held her was withdrawn, and writhing herself away
she slipped from her bed upon the right side, that
farthest from the window, and stood upon her feet.
The unseen marauder must have thought she had
used treachery to get at the bell, for he leaned across


212 THE KING’S WIDOW
the narrow bed and caught her by the arm. Again
came that laboured whisper—
“Mistitch is just outside. He tracked me all the
way. If you betray by the least sound that I am here,
I am a dead man.”
She answered in the same smothered tones.
“My hand is on the bell. By the least touch I can
summon help. Now tell me who you are.”
He seemed offended.
“Just now you were wholly in my power, and I re-
leased you—”
“That is ridiculous. You know I had only to
scream "
“Don’t deceive yourself. I should not have let you
scream. Too much at stake. But I haven’t come to
threaten you—only to say something that you must
hear.”
Was this nightmare? It all had an air of unreality,
which, she thought, was the one thing which prevented
her from fainting in sheer fright. Here was no crimi-
nal, no common ruﬂian. It was a spy—an emissary—
from whom?
As she stood there shivering she realised with wonder
that they were both speaking English.
“I shall hold the bell,” she repeated doggedly, “until
you have told me who you are.”
There was an ominous pause. She stood there, bell
in hand, his tense ﬁngers gripped her arms; then an
answer ﬂashed through the blackness like a blow.
“I am your husband.”
For a moment the shock of those words drove all
possibility of reply—even of thought—from her para-
lysed intelligence. In that moment the heavy tread of
Mistitch was heard mounting the veranda steps.
The grasp upon her arm ceased at ﬁrst sound of
those footfalls.


IN THE DARK 213
Certain faint rustlings suggested that the intruder
had shrunk back, against the wall, in the corner be- -
yond the windows, from which place he must be in-
visible to anyone without. Then for a second the
lightning lit up the veranda and revealed the huge
form of the Headman standing close to the iron gates
in an attitude of listening.
Dizzy, her head reeling, Evadne had crouched be-
side her bed. She remained motionless. The thunder
broke with shattering din and rolled crashing over the
hills. Mistitch stood there waiting for all noise to
subside, waiting to ascertain if the princess were stir-
ring. He seemed to be dumbly demanding that the
girl within should summon him to her defence.
Had he come an instant sooner—but the four words
just spokenhad benumbed her will. It was not true.
Of course it could not be true; and yet the bare possi-
bility held her mute and motionless—she must hear
more. ‘
She counted many heart-beats before the anxiety of
her guardian was satisﬁed. At last, with a grunt, he
turned slowly away, and moved along the veranda,
turning the bull’s eye of a dark lantern upon every
corner.
Evadne knew that he would come indoors and search
the sitting-rooms. Only this one room was sanctuary.
Not until he had descended the steps and gone away
did she rise, snatch her silk kimono and wrap herself
in it. Cautiously she crept round the foot of the bed,
and paused. A ﬂash showed her standing there, though
it only increased the obscurity of the corner where the
man was hidden. He came forward at once, and she
heard his hurried breath as he drew near.
She crossed the room to the farthest corner, beyond
the windows. In the darkness there, a sofa was set


214 THE KING’S WIDOW
against the wall. Near it was a table with a small
lamp and an electric switch.
She whispered: “We shall not be seen here. I
have my hand upon a light. Tell me, instantly, what
you meant by what you said just now. My husband
is dead.”
“You have twice been assured that he lives. Now he
is here to tell you so himself.”
The words came through the silence with an effect
which made her tremble; yet she replied ﬁrmly: “You
> must think me very credulous. Am I to take the word
of a stranger who steals into my house at dead of night
and assumes the character of a dead king?”
“But I think I can convince you.”
“I doubt it.”
“I can tell you something that nobody knows but
you and me.”
“You can?”
“The morning after the proxy marriage, before leav-
ing you, Ferolitz gave you a letter from me, written
secretly.”
“That is true.”
“I wrote to you in that letter, not as a king, but as
a man. I said I—wanted your love.”
ItY€S—_H
“I asked you, if you felt inclined to give me . . .
more than our royal obligations made necessary . . .
to show me a certain token.”
“Yes—yes—what token?”
“The master key.”
The answer made her wring her hands together in
perplexity.
“But—but Baron Herluin saw you dead——’
“It was not I who died. It was Michael Ferolitz
who died for me—are you believing what I say?”
“No,” she faltered, her whispering voice unsteady
7


IN THE DARK 215
with sobs. “I can’t believe that—I can’t! Because,
if you have been alive all these years, why have you
stood aside—why have you left me alone—so long?”
“You may well ask! I want to tell you, but it’s
such a long story, and I have only a few wretched
minutes in which to talk to you. Evadne—I’ve risked
my life to come to you to-night, and there is something
I must say, but Mistitch may come back. Would it
not be prudent to arrange your pillow to look as if
you were in bed?—so that, if he turns his lantern on
H
“He will not do that. It is expressly forbidden.”
“Then we are safe?”
“As long as we make no noise. Speak! Continue!
Tell me quickly!”
It seemed to the girl that her limbs would no longer
support her. She sank down upon the sofa; and
promptly the unseen took his place beside her. He
felt for her hand, gropingly; and she shuddered from
head to foot.
“Is that how you feel?” came a despairing whisper.
“I’ll kneel on the ground, then. I only ventured to sit
because the closer we are together, the lower we can
speak. Here”—she heard him fumbling in his pocket,
and now taking her wrist, he slipped something into
her hand.
“That’s a naked knife. It makes you safe enough.”
She gasped, opened her hand, and let the knife fall
upon the ground.
He stooped, feeling about for it, and she muttered
an apology.
“I have it,” said he, kneeling up again. “Oh,
Evadne, I’ve tried so hard to get to you before. God
help us if I’ve left it too late!”
“Too late!”
“You might have been glad to see me a few weeks


216 > THE KING’S WIDOW
back—before that jackanapes Theobald—yes, that
reminds me of the thing I’ve come to say. It’s the
most important of all the million things I want to say
to you, and I must get it out ﬁrst, so that if I am sur-
prised and stabbed, according to the best recognised
methods, you may know just this about me, if nothing
else.”
“Just what?” .
He hesitated quite a long time, and when he spoke,
it was as if through clenched teeth. “That I’m not
going to give you up, to Theobald or anybody else.”
She stiffened.
“If you are really Leonhardt, how can I marry
Theobald, or anyone else?”
“Several ways to arrange that. To give the alarm
now would perhaps be the quickest and cheapest.”
“Are you making fun of me?” she ﬂashed out, half
amused, half angry at the power of the nameless emo-
tion which was invading her.
“N-no. Not exactly. I am only trying not to be
too serious—I daren’t be serious—there isn’t time
for—Ah, if you knew 1” She felt the eloquence of the
broken, hardly suggested plea. His voice failed, and
for a few ominous moments she heard only his la-
boured breathing, as though his very soul were strug-
gling upward through his overcharged lungs.
“If I could but see him!” she thought desperately.
“One look would tell me ”
He won his ﬁght for composure, and presently went
on murmuring:
“I’m a king without a throne—an outcast—a dead
man! Theobald’s a waster, but he’s alive, and quite
popular in society. If I were the magnanimous hero
I should say—‘I renounce my shadow of a claim; go,
marry the man you love!’ What I want to make you
understand is that I decline to say anything of the


IN THE DARK 217
kind, and nothing will induce me to! Neither Theobald
nor any man but myself shall be your husband. That’s
a bit awkward—eh ?”
He paused a moment for a response, but she was
past that. Surely no pretender ever united such boyish-
ness of phrase with such a terrible undercurrent of
passion! The violence held in leash under his light
speech was sweeping her off her feet. He went on
quickly:
“You’re going to be Queen of Pannonia, make no
mistake about that! But, by the splendour of Heaven,
Theobald isn’t going to be king there. Because I am.”
Again he paused and listened, adding sharply after a
moment: “You’re not faint, are you? I haven’t made
you ill?”
“Oh, I don’t know! How can I tell? I’m lost. I
hardly know who I am. Where do you come from?
How did you reach me?”
He made a soft little sound that would have been
a laugh if he had not been very careful. “Ah, that’s
my Odyssey! And there’s no time for that either,
to-night. Because, you see, I mustn’t stay—or the old
Swashbuckler will have my blood! Ye gods! If he
knew where I am at this moment!”
“The Grand Duke!”
“Yes! God bless him! He didn’t want me to tell you
anything at all until I am back in my capital with my
army behind me! I didn’t mean to myself. I declare
I am like the Irishman who passed three public houses
and went into the fourth to reward resolution! It’s
all Theobald’s fault, confound him! He’s rushed me!
The thought that he might kiss you has been driving
me mad! In the garden, the other afternoon—~J’
“Leonhardt l”
He made a sound like a sob, a sound to tear the
heart-strings. “Oh say that again! No, don’t! Don’t,


218 THE KING’S WIDOW
for pity’s sake! Don’t tempt me! Just to hear you
say my name is more than I can stand—and I’ve got
to go——”
“You can’t go It’s impossible!”
“But I must! Anton is waiting for me, and sweat-
ing in pure terror because he doesn’t know where I
am.”
“Anton of the Forest Guard?”
“Yes. Wonderful chap up to a point, but has
never been in love. Couldn’t understand my planking
down all my hopes of reigning in one scale, and the
chance of a few words with you in the other! Ah,
but it was worth it! Do you hear what I say? Even
if they take me, it has been worth it, Evadne, my wife
——my wife!”
In response to the call of that voice, hardly knowing
what she did, the girl put out both hands in the pitch
blackness, to ﬁnd him. Starting under the touch, he
gripped them both, held them a moment at arm’s
length, then, as if relinquishing the struggle, dropped
his forehead down upon her knees. She felt the warmth
of his ﬂushed face, the tremor of his young body, which
seemed to emanate strength, or magnetism.
“You mustn’t, you mustn’t,” he repeated monoto-
nously. “I must go—how can I go? I never knew
it would be as hard as this!”
Excitement mastered her, prudence vanished. She
sprang from where she sat.
“I must see your face—I must see it, I tell you!
I am going to make a light!”
Swift as a panther, the man was on his feet, and had
caught her arms, from which the loose sleeves had
slipped away. “Evadne—you darling lunatic—you
mustn’t, mustn’t make a light!”
There was a new tone in his voice. He was in deadly
earnest, and she ought to have been warned; but still


CHAPTER XXII
THE ESCAPE
UMB and motionless the pair remained, hardly
daring to breathe. In their dark corner they
trusted that they were completely invisible, and did
not even risk a change of posture. Wrapped in his
arms she stood, or hardly stood; for her strength had
momentarily deserted her, and had he unclasped his
hold she must have sunk down at his feet.
Mistitch prowled past the whole length of the three
windows. He even shook one, to make sure of its
being properly fastened. The stillness within was
evidently satisfactory to him, for he turned away with
a little grunt, and lumbered heavily down the steps.
Evadne had been collecting her forces, and the mo-
ment he was gone she lifted her head and whispered
urgently:
“Leonhardt! We were mad! But I am strong now,
and I must get you away. At all costs you must go,
this instant. What! Shall it be said that the King
of Pannonia lost his kingdom in his wife’s bedcham-
ber? How could I ever survive that shame? I must
save you somehow, and I—I believe I know a way.”
The man unlocked his arms with an effect of tearing
himself away. He caught his breath oddly.
“I—I lost my senses, I believe,” he muttered. “I
never thought I should give way like that—I never did
before—not even when I had you in my arms.”
“When you had me in your arms before l” repeated
the girl. “Are you dreaming?”
“No, no,” he replied quickly, “nor mad either,
220


THE ESCAPE 221
though perhaps it sounds like it . . . Did you say you
think you could get me out of this? How?”
So urgent was this consideration that his sudden
switching off of the conversation was accepted by the
girl in her anxiety, and she answered at once.
“You must go out by the front door. In the hall,
hanging up, is a cap and a blazer belonging to my
nephew. I have thought of a plan, and I will call
Mistitch and give him orders. If you go into the dark
corner by the window and wait, you will hear all I say
to him, and that will save time. Ah, you will be care-
ful, won’t you? You won’t be reckless? You must—
-—come—back——-”
She broke off, for her voice gave out. He guessed
her- perilously near a breakdown, and he answered
steadily and without emotion.
“I won’t play the fool, I swear to you I won’t. Go
on. Rely on me, I’ll follow your lead, whatever it is.”
She gave herself no time to think nor to hesitate.
It was now or never. Deliberately she unlocked the
pair of iron gates nearest to the corner where he lurked,
passed out boldly upon the veranda, and, standing quite
close to his hiding-place, clapped her hands three times.
The Headman came raging up, breathing ﬁre and
slaughter, and let the bull’s eye of his lantern play upon
her smiling face.
“Mistitch,” cried she with an excited little laugh,
“I’ve something to confess to you, only you must give
me your word never to let it out—word of a Forest
Guard !—This is a secret between you and me,
and—-—-”
‘(And ?”
“Prince Ra, of course.”
“Ah, the imp of darkness!”
“Oh, Mistitch! You very nearly caught him, didn’t
you?”


224 THE KING’S WIDOW
robe, just there—something that scratched me a minute
ago. Give it to me—so that, when we meet next, I can
make you certain it was I who came.”
“Will you take Theobald’s gift?” she laughed mis-
chievously as she unfastened the turquoise brooch and
gave it to him; adding as he drew back: “I chose it
because of its shape. It is a key.”
He gave a low sound of utter triumph. “But I,”
said he exultingly, “have unlocked your heart without
it—alone—and in the dark! Oh my sweet, my sweet!”
She eluded him, held him at bay with her hands.
“No more! I must give you your disguise. We are
losing precious moments. Put your hand in mine and
let me guide you.”
They passed from the room together, into the pas-
sage just without where she found Ra’s cap and blazer
upon their peg and helped him to put them on, and to
make a small, tight roll of his own that he could carry
under his coat.
“You were clever to think of this,” he whispered.
“It came like inspiration! I could not have believed
I could lie so easily! And fortunately I am usually
so truthful, that Mistitch believed me at once.”
As she spoke, a low whistle, sounding from the gar-
den, warned them that their moment was come, in-
exorably. She took his hand.
“This way!” she murmured, and opened the door
of the hall-sitting-room.
It was full of such objects as large chairs and small
tables, scattered in all directions. She threaded her
way among them with the ease of familiarity, and he
followed with a noiselessness which surprised her—it
seemed like the caution of an adept. They were soon
at the door, and she opened it warily, letting down the
chain without a rattle, and admitting a whiff of the
wet, fresh night air.


226 THE KING’S WIDOW
words. “Don’t forget not to let anybody know, to hide
the fact that he was out.”
“I’ll remember, I’ll remember! For thee, get thee
back to thy bed! Thou art safe enough.”
_“Am I?” she shivered as the old man peremptorily
shut her in and went stumping off. It was a relief,
though also a little startling, to ﬁnd the room to which
she returned in bright light, and Nada standing there
rubbing her eyes and yawning.
“Nada! What’s the matter?”
“Oh, pardon, Highness, I thought I heard you call.
And there has been shooting. Surely it is late at night
for shooting?”
“A wild boar, I expect. Somebody said they had
been seen the other side of Kyriel Moor. It’s nothing.
I—I got up to look for a book that I was reading. I
thought I left it in the hall. But it is not there.”
“I know where it is,” replied Nada with a compre-
hending smile, going to the bookshelf and taking down
a book her mistress had been reading a few days pre-
viously.
When Evadne thanked and dismissed her she left
the room with an expression of tolerant understanding.
When one is toying with an offer of marriage from a
prince it is obviously excusable that one should sleep
badly. More particularly if it thunders.


CHAPTER XXIII
IN LIGHT OF DAY
VADNE had made an appointment for the fol-
lowing morning with Ra and his tutor to bathe
in the lake, for the ﬁrst time since her accident therein.
The two gentlemen duly appeared at the rendez-
vous, but found only Franz, who bore a message of
apology from Her Highness. The storm had given
her a wakeful night, and she should not come out that
morning.
This was vexatious news for Varley, who was
anxious to speak to her. He could not shake off his dis-
quieting impressions of impending danger. There were
moments when he thought he ought to go straight to
the king himself and tell him what he feared; other
moments when he accused himself of making moun-
tains out of mole-hills.
The morning was blue and dazzling, clear and sweet
after the night’s thunder; but they did not prolong their
swim. They walked up by way of Water Gate to in-
quire after the princess, and to the Englishman’s de-
light found her in her hammock under the veranda.
Ra was to have lunch at the bungalow with his aunt,
while his tutor went to keep his engagement with
Baron Herluin at Castle Kyriel. Niklaus had given
Ra some ﬁsh of a somewhat rare kind which he had
caught early that morning, and the boy went off to the
kitchen to coax Dola into cooking them for him.
Varley saw his chance of a word in private, but hardly
knew how to take it.
227


IN LIGHT 0F DAY 229
“There is so much. Since your accident I have had
no chance to consult with you upon the matter you
were so gracious as to conﬁde to me the day before the
storm on the lake.”
She held out her hand impulsively.
“Why, I don’t believe I have ever thanked you for
all you did—your magniﬁcent adventure in search of
me! I have so often wished for your account of the
inside of the Loophole.”
“You’re awfully good; but please, we won’t talk of
that now. There are things so much more urgent.
You may remember that I undertook some inquiries.
I told you the other day, roughly, that I had found out
something which made me uneasy ”
“Yes? Tell me everything. I can’t bear to be kept
in the dark.”
In the dark! Even as the words left her lips they
made her shiver.
“You remember how sure I was that if your bunga-
low had been entered it must be by the treachery or
connivance of some member of the Forest Guard?
Well, I was right.”
“Which of them?”
“The Rumanian, Anton.”
Evadne turned so pale that Varley rose to his feet.
She motioned that he should sit again.
“Go on.”
“Anton is in league with the man you always instinc-
tively knew to be a spy, the so-called Pole, Stepan
Woronz.”
“Oh I But Stepan Woronz saved my life, you know.”
“He did. But that does not preclude his being in the
pay of Nordernreich. We have made close inquiry, and
there is no doubt at all of its being so. Rastitch knows
that he was hand and glove with von Reulenz from the


230 THE KING’S WIDOW
ﬁrst, he is certain they were not strangers to one an-
other.”
“But Anton—how do you know that he ”
“Because I myself, with my own eyes, saw Woronz
steal up the mountain side to Anton’s cottage long after
midnight. He was wearing a pair of the regulation
boots, stamped in the sole with the Swan, which are
worn by the Forest Guard, so that his footprints might
not attract the suspicion of Mistitch. He must, of
course, have obtained these boots from Anton.”
Evadne’s profound attention being now secured, Var-
ley proceeded to tell her that, on the morning after her
rescue, Woronz had, as he had been assured by An-
ton’s sister, gone up to their cottage, where he remained
in bed until his fatigue passed away. Anton told quite
a different story to Mistitch. Finally he described to
her how he himself carried her letter to Anton’s cot-
tage to see whether they knew of the present where-
abouts of the Pole, and how he had seen Anton’s sister
give it to a little old pedlar, who came up the moun-
tain side whistling the signal tune.
“A little old pedlar !” cried Evadne with a start.
“Did he come here?” questioned the young man
sharply; and when she admitted it—
“Nordernreich has tentacles everywhere,” he re-
marked thoughtfully; “and that brings me on to what I
wanted to tell you last night. Woronz the Pole is back
again. I saw him yesterday skulking in these woods.”
Evadne was struggling with an awful surmise; but
she battled with it because it seemed too wild for belief.
“But why?” she cried. “Can you tell me why they
should spy on me? Who am I, what have I done, that
my doings are matter of interest to Nordernreich?”
“I can easily tell you that. There is something afoot
in Pannonia, and they believe you know what it is. If I
might be allowed the criticism, I think that toast you


IN LIGHT OF DAY 231
gave at supper on the island might be described as in-
discreet. Nobody drank it. But it conﬁrmed all their
suspicions. The messenger, whoever it was, who con-
veyed to you the last message may have had to hang
about for days before ﬁnding a chance to deposit it, and
may have been seen by Woronz, since, according to Mi-
stitch, Woronz had you under observation even before
the embassy came to Veros. Now, if the spies of Nor-
dernreich have reason to believe that a message has
somehow got through to you, they will use great effort
to ﬁnd out what it is, is not that probable and reason-
able?”
Evadne rose upright in her hammock, white even to
her lips. “You mean—you think—they would come
here to—ﬁnd it—to get it—the message ?”
“I am quite sure they would. That is why I was so
anxious to give you a hint last night. I was afraid you
might be disturbed if there was a shindy of any kind.
But, as it turns out that you are all right, perhaps it was
best not to alarm you. Of course, I know Mistitch is
tremendously careful, nowadays.”
Evadne rose, walked to the far end of the veranda,
and stood there for some moments, her hands to her
forehead. Varley saw that her agitation was so ex-
treme that she could hardly control it, and thought that
her accident must have taken away her nerve.
He could not know that she was wrestling with an
idea so horrible that the bare intrusion of it turned the
sunlight black for her. The man who came to her un-
der cover of night had indeed told her things which she
believed to be known to her husband alone. She had ac-
cepted his identity upon that evidence. Varley’s words
had, however, set alight a train of thought leading to
the suspicion that there was one other person who might
conceivably have stolen the information. She remem-
bered the afternoon, weeks previously, when she had


232 THE KING’S WIDOW
awakened from sleep on the veranda to ﬁnd Woronz
the spy standing quite near her. The table beside her,
upon which her secret letter from Leonhardt lay open,
was almost within the man’s reach. He might have
read it before she awoke. It was indeed most probable
that he had read it.
Point after point now crowded upon her memory.
When ﬁrst she became conscious of his presence in
her room the previous night, she had been in the act of
stretching out her hand towards the small table whereon
lay not only her lamp, but also the box containing her
private papers. For these he was presumably groping
when her hand arrested him. Unbearable thought!
How terriﬁed he had been lest she should make a
light! Surely, if he had been the man he claimed to be,
he need not have feared, in her company. She had only
to say to Mistitch: “This is the King of Pannonia.”
He had forbidden her to take a bit of his hair. It
was not wavy hair. It was sleek as a seal’s—and it had
looked black in the glimpse of him which she owed to
the lightning. At the time she had put that down to the
effect of light and shade; but
That the arms which had held her in the hot darkness
were those of a lover, she could hardly doubt; but she
was growing more and more certain that they were not
—-could not be—the arms of Leonhardt of Vrelde.
“When I had you in my arms before!”
That was manifestly untrue of Leonhardt. She had
known it at the time. He had turned it off, covered it
up. But it was horribly true of Stepan Woronz! They
had been together upon the lake shore for some hours
before she awoke.
She fought against her raging, agonising shame,
while there fronted her the awful conviction, he will
come again.
Yes, for he had gone away unsatisﬁed. Yes, for he


IN LIGHT or DAY 23;,
believed her convinced that he was the man he claimed
to be. There would be less difficulty next time, for she
herself had lulled the suspicions of Mistitch by her un-
blushing deception respecting prince Ra.
“This is more than I can bear,” she told herself in
anguish, her mind reaching out in vain after some evi-
dence upon the other side of the question. She could
think only of conﬁrmatory details.
He it must have been who lurked concealed upon the
Isola Bella on the day when she and Ra had a swim-
ming-match. He must have watched her as she lay
upon the sand, as she played about with her hair un-
bound. She remembered the sinister expression of his
cold eyes when, supping in the ruins, she had met his
glance. It had not meant hate, as she had then sup-
posed. Not hate—but this worse, this inﬁnitely more
degrading thing!
Varley, utterly unconscious of the dark Inferno
wherein her thought wandered, sat still, but consider-
ably astonished. After a long time, as it seemed to him,
she came back, but not very near, and her voice, with a
changed tone, made itself heard.
“When you saw the spy yesterday—was he alone?”
“No. Anton was with him. Anton has been away
for some days, and only returned yesterday.”
“What were they doing?”
“Just talking—very low—very earnestly. By the
way, that splendid exploit of the Pole in the water with
you gives the explanation of the way he is able to invade
these grounds. Mistitch has told me he considered the
water as good as a wall; but this man must always have
arrived by swimming.”
Like a culminating point of evidence-there ﬂashed
into Evadne’s memory her momentary sight of the lake
on the previous evening, and of her thinking that she


234 THE KING’S WIDOW
had seen the dark head of a swimmer in the glare of the
lightning.
“You say you have reason to know—to know—that
this man is in the employ of Nordernreich?”
“There is no room for doubt of it, I am quite sure of
the fact.”
Evadne sank down in a basket chair, just where, the
previous night, she had sat to read Theobald’s love-let-
ter. Theobald!
The thought of him revived her. She still had him—
still had a way out from this horrible nightmare of de-
lusion and folly.
“I wonder,” she cried, “how much the Prince of
Grenzenmark knows of their spying and intrigue?”
“Nothing whatever, I should imagine. They never
trust anybody unnecessarily. The exact political situa-
tion is no concern of his. They brought him here to meet
you.”
She laughed, and her laugh had a hint of rage in it.
“It is trying, is it not,” said she, “that everything
must be so obvious, if one happens to be royal? The
net is spread in one’s sight. One is asked to walk in,
with everybody looking on—and one feels the strings
drawn—it must be a hateful feeling—it makes one shy
and unnatural.”
Varley knew not what to say.
“There is no doubt,” he remarked lamely, “that His
Majesty and the queen would be glad if you could—”
“Nibble the bait and walk in?”
“There can be nothing derogatory to you, Princess,
in the fact that they hope it may be a match.”
. She rose to her feet, digniﬁed and splendid, and spoke
as though she ﬂung a challenge.
“I expect it will be a match, Mr. Varley.”
He rose and bowed.
“It is an honour that you should inform me of it,


IN LIGHT or DAY 23;
Highness. May I be one of the very ﬁrst to wish you
P"
She stood there ﬁngering nervously Leonhardt’s ﬁne
ruby betrothal ring which she had taken a fancy to wear
during the past few weeks. Her colour changed from
red to white and back again. She was wholly unlike
herself.
“I had a letter from the prince last night. I think
that was probably why Bar-Bar would not let you come
to me. She guessed that I was wishing to be alone. I
must consult my brother before making a deﬁnite reply.
I—I think I shall go back to Gailima.”
“If I may venture to give my opinion, it would be a
wise move. I am sure you are the object, here, of con-
tinual surveillance, and if the enemy should make a
deﬁnite attempt to enter the bungalow and steal your
papers, or make any kind of search, it would be most
unpleasant for you. Mistitch is not in the mood to be
gentle with such intruders. You will be safer in town,
and we shall know more shortly.”
“Know more? What do you mean?”
“Of what is going on in Pannonia.” He rose as he
spoke and looked at his watch. He felt puzzled by the
princess’s whole manner, and very sorry for her. It
could not be that She was accepting Theobald because
Nordernreich had actually succeeded in intimidating
her? The idea of Evadne bullied and frightened was
almost laughable. “I must be off,” said he, “to keep my
appointment at Castle Kyriel. May I tell Baron Her-
luin of your intention to go back to Gailima ?”
Evadne started a little. “Baron Herluin? Oh, Mr.
Varley, do you think he knows anything? He might
possibly—have news from Pannonia?”
Humphrey was struck by the probability of this sug-
gestion. He had guessed that some special reason lay
behind this invitation, since the baron and himself were


236 THE KING’S WIDOW
by no means great friends. .Viewed in connection with
the baron’s late surprising visit to the capital, he
thought the reason might be political.
The princess broke in.
“Oh, Mr. Varley l”—and now she was just his friend
—a girl in need of help. “I can trust you wholly!
Promise to come to me this afternoon, after leaving the
Castle, if there is anything said which you think I ought
to hear! You know I was married to the dead King of
Pannonia! If there is any truth in the story of his sur-
vival, I cannot marry the Prince of Grenzenmark! But
I must have assurance somehow! This uncertainty is
driving me mad 1”


CHAPTER XXIV!
ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER
ASTLE KYRIEL is a stately old place, and the
baron resided therein with a feudal kind of pomp
which would seem incredible to western Europeans.
The men who lined his entrance hall, wearing their na-
tional costume, were called his tenants, but were in fact
his vassals, folk who would no more have thought of
leaving his land or his service than of changing their
nationality.
Varley, arriving on his bicycle to keep his luncheon
engagement, was astonished at the display. When he
had been relieved of his straw hat he was conducted,
not into the small cabinet on the ground ﬂoor wherein
the baron received him as a rule, but up the grand stair-
case to the state apartments, which he entered with an
acute consciousness of the informality of his summer
suit of grey ﬂannel.
As the wide doors rolled open he heard the sound of
an unmistakable laugh, and saw, behind the dapper lit-
tle ﬁgure of his host, the splendid stature and dark face
of Raoul, Grand Duke of Marvilion.
“This is an unlocked-for honour, sire,” he was be-
ginning, with his best bow; but Raoul grasped his hand
and shook it with unaffected cordiality.
“Good man i” he cried. “I am glad you were able to
come. The baron promised to do his best to produce
on.”
y “I heard a rumour of Your Highness being in Kilis-
tria, but dared not rely upon it. I hope it means that
237


238 THE KING’S wroow
our king and yourself have succeeded in—er—compos-
ing your differences?”
“It does,” replied the Grand Duke with a twinkle in
his eye. “I have had to go warily, however, for Nor-
dernreich is as restive as a frightened horse, and a word
too soon would have wrecked our hopes. Even now of
'course—”
Baron Herluin broke in. “May I venture to inter-
rupt you, sire, while I put the oath to Mr. Varley? We
have no suspicions of his honour, but if he takes the
Oath of Kilistria he will have a more adequate idea of
the importance of these proceedings.”
The ceremony, which is peculiar to Kilistria and
Marvilion, was soon over. Varley put his hand upon
the top of the hilt of the Grand Duke’s sword. The
Grand Duke put his own hand over it, and thus the
Englishman repeated after Baron Herluin the brief
formula of the Oath of Fealty and Silence.
He took it not only willingly, but eagerly, for his
curiosity was keenly aroused. No further revelations
could, however, be made at the moment, for the pledge
was hardly administered before the servants opened the
doors of the inner room and announced that the lunch
was served.
The ceremonious banquet was somewhat of a strain
upon the patience both of Varley and the other guest;
but the old baron was so full of joy and pride in the im-
portance of the occasion, that it would have been cruel
to cut short the imposing menu or ask to have the elabo-
rate service curtailed. Every goblet, every dish, every
knife and fork upon the table would have been the joy
of the collector’s heart; and The Swashbuckler, in his
genial way, tooE occasion to admire everything, since
no conversation of importance was possible during the
attendance of the picturesque vassals.
But when the meal drew to an end he turned to his


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 241
“Just so. Ferolitz and Leonhardt were cousins, and
a good deal alike, though not, I should have said, suf-
ﬁciently_so to be taken for one another except at a dis-
tance. However, it answered all right. Ferolitz in-
sisted upon testing the truth of his own suspicions by
taking the king’s place in the afternoon’s programme;
and you know the result. Even Herluin here was de-
ceived.”
“I admit it,” replied the baron, “but you must re-
member how horribly disﬁgured the face was. There
was a sabre cut right across the cheek, and he had been
dragged in the dust. I could see a change. I remem-
ber thinking how death altered a face. But the change
of identity did not so much as occur to me. King Leon-
hardt is extremely thorough. He thinks of everything.
Ferolitz, being his substitute, must have every garment
upon him royal, down to the skin. Each triﬂe in his
pockets, even to the princess’s miniature, was the king’s
own property ”
“But did you not wonder what had become of Fero-
litz ?”
“N o, for Count Loriscu explained, as I thought. I
sent for Ferolitz the moment the thing was over, and he
did not come; but just as I was about to dispatch an-
other messenger, Loriscu came in and told me that
Ferolitz had been wounded—he feared mortally—in
the scrimmage, and that he had him in‘ hiding. It
seemed unlikely that he could live, but if he did it was
the count’s intention to smuggle him out of the country.”
“Why did not this Loriscu tell you the truth? I sup-
pose he knew it?”
“He knew it very well. But you see, being the envoy
of Kilistria, I could not have been sworn to secrecy.
My master had the right to know all I knew; and
Loriscu had the good sense to see that the only hope for
Leonhardt’s resurrection was for Nordernreich to be


242 THE KIN G’S WIDOW
lulled into complete security by the conviction of his be-
ing dead.”
“Besides,” went on Raoul, “nobody thought the king
could recover. He had been in the thick of the ﬁghting,
disguised as a peasant, and had got a knife wound in the
ribs as well as a terriﬁc blow on the head. But for that
I think he would have got Ferolitz out. He had all but
fought his way to him when he fell. He has said since
that he thinks a motor-car whee! went over his head.
When he began to show signs of amendment his mem-
ory was partially impaired. At the time when the Pan-
nonians were burying Ferolitz, with all imaginable
pomp, he was lying between life and death.”
“If Count Loriscu kept all this secret, how was the
disappearance of Ferolitz accounted for to the general
public?”
“Ferolitz was not very important,” replied Herluin,
“and many circumstances made his disappearance seem
natural enough. There were several corpses left lying
in the city, stripped and mutilated, so that identification
was not possible. More than that, as the people—
Oesterlanders to a man—who called themselves the
Revolutionary Tribunal at once decreed death to all the
late king’s officials, he would certainly have made his
escape if he could. Some time after, a letter arrived
for one of the servants at the royal palace at Dalmeira.
It came from India, purported to be written by Fero-
litz, and asked that various things belonging to his per-
sonal luggage might be forwarded to him. The Revo-
lutionary Tribunal—which lasted only a few months—
forbade the sending of his things; and the incident was
regarded as closed.”
“It was Oesterland who ﬁnally put in a governor?”
“It was; and as the policy of Nordernreich, until
lately, preferred that there should be no peace or set-
tled government there, she has with her usual devilish


244 THE KING’S WIDOW
of his friends. But after weary waiting, the rest, the
good feeding, the peace, and his host’s care had their
effect. The time arrived when he began to ask ques-
tions, and bit by bit to recall the past. Long before giv-
ing a thought to his kingdom he remembered the girl for
whom he had conceived so romantic a passion. He be-
came very urgent that news should be conveyed to her,
even if it were thought best to hide his survival from the
rest of the world for the present. He anticipated, you
will understand, that in a few weeks’ time he would be
well enough to act, and to submit his claim to the bar of
public opinion. At last he persuaded Loriscu to convey
his message into Kilistria, and contrive that it should
reach the Castle of Orlenthal. Upon his return from
this mission, the count found himself confronted with
tragedy. In his absence, the invalid had been arrested.”
“Arrested!”
“There is little doubt that the doctor betrayed him.
They had noticed that his manner was suspicious and
embarrassed. At all events a military escort was sent,
and Leonhardt was marched off.”
“Without a pretext?”
“Entirely. They acted as was done subsequently, af-
ter war broke out, in Nordernreich. A suspect was just
taken. He was brought before no tribunal. He got no
chance to clear himself. He simply disappeared from
view.”
“Do you think they knew who he was?”
“They were fairly certain that he was Ferolitz.
When he was ﬁrst carried into the Loriscus’ house,
though disguised, his underclothing was all Ferolitz’s.
They do not appear to have had any special animus
against him, only they thought it best to keep him under
lock and key, lest the treachery of the Great Powers
should be made public in Europe. Very wisely, they
chose the absence of Count Loriscu to do their work


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 245
quietly. Had he been at home, he must have opposed
the removal; and they could not afford publicity. But
then neither could he, as they felt to be most probable.
They knew that he dared not inform the police, or draw
any attention to the fact that he had for so long har-
boured a combatant of the Day of the Murder, as they
call it in Dalmeira.”
“He had no idea where to seek?”
“None at all. War broke out, the years went by.
At last one day, to his utter astonishment, he got a short
note, dated actually from Nordernberg. It was written
in terms of affectionate intimacy, and invited him to
come to the capital for a few days’ frolic and meet his
old friend K. Panhard. This name, K. Panhard, at
ﬁrst conveyed nothing to his mind, until he saw that it
might be a mixture of Pannonia, Leonhardt and King.
He deemed it worth while to go and ﬁnd out.”
“And it was?”
“It was. I can’t give you the details of his escape,
they would ﬁll a book. It appears that his sudden re-
moval from the Loriscus’ care had an effect the opposite
of what might have been feared. It completed his re-
covery, or, in his own words, ‘shook him up effectually.’
He was carried to an old remote fortress, the Castle of
Gollancz; and from the ﬁrst was treated as a harmless
lunatic. His white hair, which he allowed to grow long,
his straggling white beard, his meek, crushed aspect and
air of passive stupidity, served him excellently. The
more completely he regained his mental powers, the
more perfect became his ability to conceal the fact from
his jailers. You probably remember his extraordinary
capacity for disguise?”
“At Oxford,” broke in Varley, “we always said he
could make his fortune on the stage. He could speak
most languages, assume the manners and habits of most
races, and make his face perfectly expressionless at will.


246 THE KING’S WIDOW
I have known him come into a man’s rooms, sit down
and talk for half an hour, and then burst out laughing
and reveal himself.”
“Yes. That is Leonhardt; and these gifts procured
him his freedom. He never varied in the account of
himself in which Loriscu had carefully coached him.
He was Thaddeus Millo, born at Odessa. The ﬁrst
governor of Gollancz, an exact person, went to the
trouble of verifying his assertion, and found it to be
true in every point. He then wrote to the government,
advising the release of the prisoner, but before an an-
swer could arrive the exigencies of war necessitated his
taking up an active command. The governor who suc-
ceeded to his post remained but a short time, and was
removed for the same reason. By this time, the guard
set over Thaddeus Millo had become merely formal.
The third governor who made his appearance was no
other than our old friend General Helso. He never
gave a thought to this prisoner; and ﬁnally one day
Leonhardt walked out of the fortress arm in arm with
his jailer, who had not the smallest idea that the trim,
erect young police officer with whom he conversed so
pleasantly could have the smallest connection with the
bent, deaf greybeard who had to be addressed in Rus-
sian, and passed his time in playing patience.”
“Marvellous! That’s a man to ﬁght for, sire
“A man I am proud to call my friend,” replied the
Grand Duke. “It seems that Helso, being somewhat
ashamed of himself and fearing blame, did not report
the escape of his prisoner. He was, at the time, under
orders for the front, and he left Gollancz with the thing
hushed up. At the time when ﬁrst Loriscu brought me
the astounding tidings, I was not in a position to offer
any help, as you may guess. All we could do was to
hide our time and prepare our way with the most care-
ful underground work. I am now free to strike what I
I”


ENTER THE SWASHBUCKLER 247
hope may be the mortal blow to Nordern dreams of
world domination—not yet dead, in spite of the En-
tente. I have a couple of divisions massed on the fron-
tier at Syllis, where for a few miles Marvilion touches
Pannonia.”
“Can’t I do anything to help?” burst out Humphrey.
“We have sent for you to-day because we think there
is something you can do for us. We want you to bring
the Princess Evadne safely to Syllis. Do you think this
can be done?”
Humphrey started.
“Without her brother’s knowledge?”
“That is Leonhardt’s idea. He thinks it will be
easier for Boris to have his hand forced, since he is at
present on friendly terms with Nordernreich. If we
move without his knowledge there can be no ground of
complaint.”
Humphrey knit his brow. He hardly knew what to
answer, in view of the declaration just made to him by
Evadne respecting her matrimonial intentions. He
hesitated so long that a shadow darkened in Raoul’s
eyes.
“You’re not going to tell me that she will fail him
now, after all that he has undergone ?”
“It is, I suppose, my duty to inform you that the
princess this morning told me it is her intention to ac-
cept the Prince of Grenzenmark. If her husband sur-
vives, this would be, of course, impossible. But would
he—-I mean—would it be Leonhardt’s wish to hold her
to her empty marriage with himself if—if she prefers
another man?”
Raoul looked very grave.
“Leonhardt himself is the only one who can answer
that question,” said he. As he spoke, he pushed back
his chair, went to the window, and stared out upon the
ﬁne prospect of rolling moorland and distant lake. “Has


250 THE KING’S WIDOW
arms. The very scent of the man clung in her mind—
the combination of lake water, heather, good soap and
a faint aroma of tobacco—all merged in the impression
of warm virility and sinuous vigour.
She could not keep still, but wandered from terrace
to terrace, up and down again, driven by her emotion.
She sat on the edge of the cliff, picturing herself in the
lake, with nothing but his arm between herself and
death. Then back she paced, her unquiet feet pausing
before one of the windows of her own room, while she
imagined herself standing as she had stood in the
breathless gloom, breast to breast with—whom?
The afternoon bade fair to last for ever.
Nada, in very ill temper, had gone to carry her mis-
tress’s things up to Florémar for the night. Bar-Bar
was not pleased at this capricious migration, the re-
proofs of Baron Herluin still rankling in her mind. She
was puzzled and a little hurt at the freakishness, the un-
stable humour displayed by her beloved Evadne; and
wished the engagement were an accomplished fact, that
the mind of the lady might settle back to its normal
sweetness.
Evadne had been somewhat apprehensive of what the
Headman might say, when he heard that, although she
was leaving for the capital next day, she yet could not
pass the last night of her stay at Water Gate, but must
needs go up to the palace, without giving any reason
more cogent than her fear of thunderstorms.
She sent Nada to convey the disagreeable message,
but she had not as yet seen Mistitch herself.
The day wore on. Tea-time came and went, but no
Humphrey appeared. She had expected him back by
four o’clock at the latest, and his failure to arrive added
to her nervous agitation. She was still ﬁghting the
dread which haunted her—still hoping against hope
that the Englishman would bring back the incredible


252 THE KING’S WIDOW
upon her heel, looked at Mistitch and said under her
breath— ‘
“What about those shots, Mistitch?”
“The shots ?” The old man had turned away and
was pulling his pipe from his pocket. He pushed it out
of sight and rubbed his hands gently together. “They
were just—nothing,” said he indiﬂerently. “One of the
guards thought he heard something and ﬁred into the
darkness. Nobody was hurt.”
“Mr. Varley cannot have heard anything—he has
not spoken of it—nor the prince ”
“No. It was in the woods, much nearer the_ park
gates. They would not hear it at the palace, unless they
were wide awake and listening. The sentry knew I had
had an alarm and was a bit jumpy, I expect.”
“Which sentry was it, Mistitch ?”
“The Rumanian, Anton.”
“Ah! . . Do you like Anton, and—and trust him?”
“Ay, that I do. A nice boy, Anton,” replied the old
man with a bright smile. As he spoke, he saluted, mut-
tered something about haste, and hurried off. Evadne
had almost opened her lips to say “Beware!” but
checked herself. Whither would such a caution lead?
She knew the Headman for an astute questioner. Yet
she could not but feel that he was getting old, and that
his lynx eyes must be growing dull or his brain sluggish.
She left him and wandered into the hall, where her
suspense was allayed by the sight of Franz with a note
upon a salver.
“To be given into Your Highness’s own hand,” he
said, as he respectfully retired.
She saw that the note was from Varley, and the fact
that he had written instead of coming himself, aroused
many speculations. Surely Bar-Bar had not been sense-
less enough to forbid his visits'?
She sat down upon a sofa, for the ridiculous reason‘


254 THE KING’S WIDOW
privately. Duke Raoul asks that you tell no one that
you have received it, and that you burn it immediately
upon having read it.
His Majesty King Leonhardt, being prevented from
direct communication with you, has conveyed to Duke
Raoul the following message which I now transmit—
He is in good health, and most desirous of seeing
you, but as he is unable, at this moment, to ﬁx an exact
date for your meeting, he would lik you to accord an
interview to a member of the Pannonian aristocracy,
Countess Loriscu, his dear friend. It was in her house,
and that of her noble husband, that he was nursed back
to health, so that there is nobody who can speak for him
so ﬁtly. The Countess is now in Kilistria, though un-
der an assumed name. Duke Raoul suggests a plan by
which you could see her without the knowledge of any-
one but your immediate entourage.
He understands that you intend to leave for Gailima
to-morrow. Baron Herlhin has the honour to offer you
his car, so that you may make your journey by road.
The chauffeur will have his directions, and you will
meet the countess upon the way.
I also shall meet you a little way out, and, with your
permission, enter your car. In order to arrange this, I
am—acting entirely under the orders of Baron Her-
luin and the Grand Duke—feigning illness. I was sent
home in the baron’s car, and went immediately to bed,
excusing myself to the baroness from all further atten-
dance this evening. I have also telegraphed for an
aide-de-camp to come from Gailima to fetch Ra home.
A very few hours should see the danger past and the
enemy powerless to do harm. But for those few hours
you cannot be too careful. The sudden restoration to
favour of Baron Herluin will be alarming the Nordern-
ers. I should not be so uneasy did I not know that the
Pole is still haunting the neighbourhood. He is a most


CHAPTER XXVI
THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR
UMPHREY VARLEY, upon his return, in the
baron’s car from Castle Kyriel, alighted in the
avenue and went to Water Gate by a devious and se-
cluded route. Fortune favoured him, for he met Franz
on the way, and was able to deliver his letter, point to
the baron’s seal thereon, and explain that it was essen-
tial that the princess should receive it when she was
alone. It was not to be shown to anyone else, nor en-
trusted to Nada for delivery.
This done, the hours of the evening stretched before
the young man emptily. He reached Florémar, sent
word to the baroness of his indisposition, and went ac-
tually to bed.
But it seemed quite impossible to remain there.
To demand of his body that it should lie passive,
while his excited mind ﬂew hither and thither upon wild
adventures, was asking too much, and he rebelled.
He had given orders that no food should be brought
to him before nine o’clock that evening, and that the
prince should not visit him, in case he might be sicken-
ing for something infectious. Therefore he might
count upon some hours undisturbed. It was easy
enough for him to leave the palace unseen, by means
of a private staircase near his own room, leading to a
small door which opened upon an overgrown and little
used woodland path. The grounds were a vast soli-
tude, wherein one might wander for hours without
meeting anybody but a patrolling Forest Guard. All in
256


258 THE KING’S WIDOW
There was not even smoke rising from the chimney.
The door and all the windows were closed, which
seemed remarkable upon that evening of high summer.
Yet the place was not, as he at ﬁrst feared, aban-
doned, for as he walked up to it he could hear a faint
sound from within, a sound of tapping. He struck his
stick pretty smartly upon the door.
The sounds within ceased. Ensued a pause which he
felt to be breathless. Nobody came, however, and in a
minute or two he repeated his summons. Shuﬂling foot-
steps then made themselves heard, the door was opened
a crack and an elderly man of the peasant class peeped
forth. He had a hammer in his hand.
“Good evening,” said Varley. “Is Anton at home?”
With a glance behind him the old man drew the door
softly to, and stepped forth upon the threshold, holding
the handle behind him with his left hand. “Nobody is
here but myself,” said he. “What does the quality
want?”
“Nobody here?” Varley’s heart sank like a stone.
“Where then are the mother and sister of Anton?”
“They are gone away.”
“Indeed? When do you expect them back?”
“They will not come back.”
Varley had much ado to keep his surprise from being
noticeable. He was not prepared for this.
“I am packing their things,” went on the old man.
“Anton is dismissed from the Forest Guard. All of
them are gone away.”
After a long moment of reﬂection upon this news,
Varley said he would like to come in. ,
“I admit nobody. It is an order from the Great
Lord himself.”
Varley knew that, on Kyriel Moor, “the Great Lord”
stood for Herluin. All seemed clear enough. The
treachery of Anton had been discovered, and immediate


THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR 259
steps taken to remove the peril. But what of Woronz?
If they had detected Anton, the Pole must have been in-
volved in his downfall—it was only two days since he,
Varley, had seen them together. And, if both men had
been arrested, as he thought more than probable, what
of Beruna?
The idea that she might be arrested as a spy and
traitor seemed so laughable—and then he remembered
seeing her hand over the letter for Woronz to the
pedlar.
If she were a decoy, then he felt that no woman on
this earth could be really young and pure and true-
hearted. '
“Let me come in and rest,” said he to the old man.
“I am a friend of your Great Lord. I was eating my
meat with him this very day.”
The man’s face changed. “Eating thy meat with
him 1”
“Yes. Do you not know me? I am the King’s Eng-
lishman.” He pointed to an orchid which was in his
button-hole—presented that day by the old baron,
whose hobby was his orchid houses. At sight of it the
face of the custodian softened. Varley added the per-
suasion of a silver coin, and the door yielded.
He stood within. The room was completely dis-
mantled, and without its plenishings was a bare place in-
deed. Two or three packing-cases stood about, ready
for transit. He scanned them eagerly in hope of ﬁnd-
ing an address; but there was nothing of the kind.
He thought of the strained face of Anton’s mother,
and the way her eyes had ﬁxed themselves upon him.
Then he remembered how Anton had taken him out of
the cottage by the back way, and how they had passed
through the kitchen. A positive yearning to pass
through the kitchen once more assailed him. With a
great sigh he moved towards the closed door.


260 THE KING’S WIDOW
The old man’s claw hand gripped his elbow.
“Don’t go in there, Lord Englishman.”
“And why not?”
“There’s a dead man in there.”
Varley’s heart jumped. There had indeed been a
clearance of this nest of spies! The dead man! Was
it, could it be, Woronz?
It was absolutely imperative that he should ﬁnd out.-
Turning to the old peasant he said impressively:
“The Great Lord desired that I should walk round
this way and let him know how all went. I did not un-
derstand him at the time, for I supposed that Anton and
his family still dwelt there. But without doubt he
wished to know what was being done about the dead
man—very few persons come here, is it not so?”
“Nobody, Lord Englishman. Nobody but yourself.”
“Well, see to it that you admit nobody until the dead
man is removed. When do you bury him?”
“I have dug his grave. We bury him to-night. I
was just nailing him down when you came,” faltered
the man uncertainly.
“Will you have help for the burial?”
“Yes, lord. Another of the Great Lord’s vassals.”
“That is very well. Now let me see how you have
got on with your work, that I may report to the Great
Lord of your progress.”
Without asking permission he pushed open the kit-
chen door and strode in.
Upon three chairs, one at each end, one sideways in
the midst for support, a rough coffin of deal‘boards had
been placed. Planks had been nailed across it about
halfway up, but the face of the corpse was still ex-
posed.
The face of a slender man of medium height, with
rough straggling locks of grey which fell over his fore-
head, and shaggy grey eyebrows. He still wore the


THE FATE OF THE PEDLAR 261
clothes in which he had died, a leather sleeveless coat
lined with sheep’s wool, and a brown under-jacket.
Varley felt sure that it was the pedlar whom he had
seen with Beruna upon the mountain path. The hands
lay folded across the body. They were partly covered
by the planking, but not quite. The ﬁnger-nails were
visible, and the Englishman knew at a glance that those
were not the hands nor the nails of a Kilistrian peasant.
He felt a thrill of horror, knowing that if he touched
the profuse grey hair it would come off and show the
head of a different man beneath. Stepping back, pale
with the shock, he caught his foot upon the pedlar’s
pack which was lying on the ground near. He pointed
to the tell-tale object, saying hurriedly—
“You should not leave that about.”
“No, Lord Englishman. I am going to pack it away
as soon as I have closed the cofﬁn.”
“The sooner the better,” replied Varley, staring
upon the dead face. The sight of it made all things
insecure and unreal. He fancied an ambush among the
dark groves on the hillside—he discerned a pattering
footstep in the trickle of the water which ﬂows muﬂled
over the comparatively level stretch whereon the cot-
tage stands.
“I will tell the Great Lord that all will soon be
done,” he muttered hurriedly; and, thrusting another
coin into the hand of the amateur undertaker, he
rushed forth into the calm air of the mellow evening,
repeating to himself, “I must think, I must think,” but
knowing himself less capable of connected thought than
ever in his life.
It was not until he had plunged far down the hill-
side that he recalled all the many questions he might
have asked, such as who the man was, how he had come
by his death, and why he was to be secretly buried.
Further reﬂection, however, showed that none of these


262 THE KING’S WIDOW
questions could have been put without exposing his
ignorance of “the Great Lord’s” proceedings. No
vassal of Herluin’s would be likely to question his
lord’s actions or to ﬁnd them surprising, whatever they
were. If he chose to bury murdered men in every
corner of his kitchen garden, his vassals would obe-
diently and without emotion dig their graves and ask
no questions.
No marks of violence were visible upon the dead
body, yet the face wore the strained, deﬁant expres-
sion of one who has been suddenly cut off. The
thought of him lying there, in a room sacred to the
vision of Beruna, made Humphrey stop short, and
lean his arm upon a tree and his forehead upon it
until he had pulled himself together.
It grew late and he dared not linger, so he was
shortly on the move once more. He was conscious of
some resentment at the fact that Baron Herluin, in all
their lengthy deliberations of that day, had said no
word of what had been done at the cottage. Hum-
phrey’s own conscience was pricking him a little. He
accused himself of dereliction of duty. This which
had now been done might have been accomplished
weeks ago, had he himself performed his duty—it
seemed in the light of after events a plain duty—and
reported at once to Mistitch his ﬁrst adventure upon
Kyriel Moor.
Well enough he knew that only the intense desire
to see more of Beruna had held him back.


264 THE KING’S WIDOW
Leonhardt’s being alive. The report rested, he said,
solely upon the escape of an elderly lunatic from the
fortress of Gollancz, nearly two years before. Gen-
eral Helso, as headquarters would be aware, was gov-
ernor of the fortress, and had seen and spoken with
the man in question. He described him as at least
ﬁfty-ﬁve, more probably sixty years old, bent and timid,
with white hair and beard. One had to speak Russian
for him to understand satisfactorily; and even then his
intellect seemed feeble. That such a man could mas-
querade as the dead king was quite unthinkable.
Moreover, during his captivity he had been tested in
dozens of ways, with the object of discovering whether
he was cunning or merely stupid. Not once had he
betrayed a more active mind or body than his general
demeanour led one to expect.
To this headquarters at once retorted that the fact
of the escape showed that prisoner’s stupidity to have
been merely a pose. Glanzingfors quickly countered
with the opinion that it only showed how inadequately
he was guarded. The guards had been withdrawn, one
by one. Helso had appealed in vain for more. Nobody
knew how Thaddeus Millo got away, and, in the
general’s opinion, he merely strayed out one day,
hardly knowing where he was going.
Then, continued the ruthless questioning, how do
you account for the fact that Pannonia is now united,
organised, and armed to the teeth?
Glanzingfors accounted for it mainly by the one
word “Swashbuckler.” The Grand Duke was cer-
tain to be in the midst of anything calculated to cause
trouble and exasperation to Nordernreich. Moreover,
the ambassador believed all the accounts of the state
of Pannonia to be grossly exaggerated. Asked upon
what grounds he held this view, he retorted with his
last hope. His own best spy, his marvellous Swede.


THE SPY’S PLAN 267
“As to things going badly,” observed old Glanz,
“that depends upon what you call going badly. By
the way, we have not met since your sensational life-
saving feat. Rest assured it won’t go unrewarded.
The death of that girl would have meant ruin for all
our plans. As it is, all goes well in that respect. Theo-
bald has been practically accepted, and”—he broke off
at a quick exclamation from Rosmer. “Eh?”
“Our Government, then, places no credence in the
news of the resurrection of the King of Pannonia?”
Glanzingfors looked greyer, yellower than ever in
the faint dawn that was ﬁltering in behind the drawn
curtains.
“Surely you are not going to tell me that—it—is—
true?” he stammered.
Rosmer shrugged.
“How can I say? I have not seen the man in ques-
tion. But there is practically no doubt at all that the
Pannonians believe in him. They are rallying to his
standard everywhere, just as bees swarm where the
queen settles.”
“But—but—” quavered the ambassador, “what
story do they tell? I mean, how is the reappearance
of the king explained?”
“The man who was assassinated was, they tell you,
Michael Ferolitz, and not the king.”
Von Reulenz laughed harshly.
“And if so, where has the king been all this time?”
“They say he was a prisoner for a long period.
Since then he has been biding his moment.”
Von Reulenz sat biting his lip and gazing with
some contempt and more exasperation at the disor-
dered countenance of his chief.
“He would, of course, if the thing were by any
chance true, make no move until the Swashbuckler was
at liberty to help him. I should be inclined to bet that


THE SPY’S PLAN 269
The two men ﬂung themselves into chairs, facing
him across the table. They all looked into each other’s
eyes. Rosmer went slowly on:
“Is not this a case for the sacriﬁce of one man and
one man only? I have served Nordernreich—you may
say that I have served her well—but now the time of
my usefulness seems to be drawing to a close. One
man who does not value his life could remove this pre-
tender. If the king fails to materialise—if he does
not appear as announced—if he be removed—then his
claim and all that hangs to it falls to the ground."
Silence.
“You are offering—yourself,” faltered Gléinzing-
fors.
Von Reulenz stared at Rosmer in a kind of amaze.
He knew him for the hero of one daring exploit, but
this careless suggestion of throwing his own life away
took away the breath of the attaché.
“Have you considered possibilities at all?” he asked
harshly. “The Pannonians presumably don’t leave
their king lying about just anywhere for assassins to
get at.”
“I’m not so sure of that,” replied Rosmer smiling.
“Not many police about in Pannonia, I assure you,
even after so many months of Marvilion’s fostering
care. Moreover, the average inhabitant is so smoth-
ered in hair that he looks more like a yak than any-
thing else, and the disguise would be child’s play. In
fact I have got a full outﬁt with me.”
“But—but——” the ambassador looked aimlessly
about the room, “but I shall want you, Rosmer. I—I
don’t think I can spare you,” he began.
The spy shrugged his shoulders. “I’m afraid you'd
never see me again,” he replied, “but think what would
have been accomplished; though you have only heard
half my plan yet.”


270 THE KING’S WIDOW
G‘Ha I"
“Yes. Here it is in full. The king, as I tell you, is
to appear—where and when I will reveal to you later.
He is sending secretly for the Princess Evadne to join
him, because her brother might object to these freakish
doings. The man seems a little too fond of the Har-
oun-al-Raschid stunt, anyway! Now, if I carry out
my idea, we ought to have the Prince of Grenzenmark
also on the scene.”
“How would you propose to get him to go?” asked
von Reulenz a little impatiently.
“Most easily. Tell him the princess has been kid-
napped and is in the power of the Pannonian pretender.
Then see him skip. No need to worry about him.
He’ll be off after her before you can c0unt ten. Now
you have them both there on the spot; and the expected
monarch just simply does not arrive. Don’t you think
the bigwigs of Pannonia, disappointed of one king,
might make haste to elect another? More especially
if the same queen could be made to serve.”
“Oh, preposterous,” began von Reulenz, “with the
Swashbuckler’s legions at the gate!”
The voice of Rosmer went on evenly:
“Things ought to arrange themselves very simply.
Pannonia is aching to settle down under a stable gov-
ernment. No amount of swashbuckling can make a
dead man live; and I don’t see how the Grand Duke
of Marvilion could set on his men to ﬁght against King
Boris’s sister and her husband.”
The ambassador pushed back his chair, blowing out
a great breath.
“How this fellow sets my brain going! The mo-
ment he appears I see things! I see them!” He
rubbed his hands and laughed, his face took on anima-
tion. He was a different being from the defeated,
nerveless creature of an hour before.


CHAPTER XXVIII
THE KIDNAPPING
PON the night following his adventure upon
Kyriel Moor Humphrey Varley hardly closed
his eyes till dawn; and when he slept, it was to awaken
with a sound in his ears as of nails driven into a coffin,
and his fancy ﬁlled with the image of the pinched, re-
luctant face of a dead pedlar who at no distant date
had manicured his ﬁnger-nails.
He arose betimes, in pursuance of precise directions.
As he dressed himself, with more than usual care, he
knew that he was leaving behind him for ever that
phase of his life which was knit so closely to lovely
Florémar. He was leaving something else behind him
as well—something whose loss hurt him even more
than the severance between himself and the boy whom
he loved. He would see Ra again—of that he felt
sure. But whether in England he would ever ﬁnd
again the heart which he lost on the mountainside was
another matter, and he faced the question with gloomy
foreboding.
He had packed a suit-case overnight, placing it in-
side a large cupboard on the landing, whence Mistitch
had by arrangement fetched it away, carrying it off
with the princess’s own luggage.
He had nothing to wait for, it was too early for
breakfast, and it was imperative that he should be
gone before people were about.
He locked his door behind him, so that the dis-
covery of his absence might be delayed as long as
272


THE KIDNAPPING 275
He did not know what words he found. He was
not wont to be so gauche; but it seemed to him that
there was nothing to be said until he had heard all.
“I can’t yet realise,” he stammered, “how it was that
I did not instantly perceive—am I very stupid, or are
you both very clever? Let us say the latter if you don’t
mind, it’s less humiliating for me. _ But I fear the
Countess Beruna will never forgive me.”
He spoke with his eyes upon the curve of the cheek
visible below the brim of her rose-coloured hat. He
saw the colour deepen and deepen, but still she did not
speak. Then suddenly she broke into irrepressible
laughter, in which her mother, marking his rueful face,
joined.
“I suppose it is funny,” he owned, “and if you can
take it like that I hope it means that you—that
H
“That I won’t cut you, Mr. Varley,” said the girl,
raising her head for the ﬁrst time. “But, oh, I should
so like the answer to one question! What was it that
brought you up the hill that ﬁrst night? Was it acci-
dent, or did you come because your suspicions had been
somehow aroused?”
He put his hands behind his back, shaking his head,
with the light of mirth in his own eyes.
“I want to hear a great deal more before I make any
incriminating. admissions !”
The countess broke in:
“We have not time, Beruna, to talk of these things
now. We must ask Mr. Varley to take us on the
baron’s recommendation, and to second us in our effort
to keep the princess happy and conﬁdent, and to make
friends with her. Come! Our coffee is poured out.”
Varley gave himself up to the magic moment. Fling-
ing off his hat, he sat among the beech-leaves by


276 THE KING’S WIDOW
Beruna’s knees, where he could hand her what she
needed. They ate sandwiches and cakes, and spoke
only of triﬂing things, for a short half-hour which was
like the young man’s idea of breakfast-time in Paradise.
The sun travelling upward in the heaven, lit the face
of the girl each moment from some new angle. He
was free to look, to be near, once to feel her ﬁngers
lightly brush his own as she took a little cake from
the plate he held.
It seemed to him that hardly a moment had passed
before one of the vassals made his way from the path
where he had been keeping watch, and announced that
the princess’s car was in sight, along the high road.
“We must not delay. The servants will pack,” said
the countess, rising. “Come, young people.”
She passed through the brake into the open path,
whence the road was quickly reached. Varley, spring-
ing to his feet, held his hands to help Beruna from her
seat. For a moment, visibly, she hesitated. Then she
laid her two hands, warm and small, in his, and slowly
rose till she stood before him. In some unspoken
fashion, not to be explained, he besought her for a sign.
In reply, the heavy fringes of her eyelids were raised,
and she gave him a look that sent his heart into his
mouth.
“Then you do,” said he inanely. She did not ask what
he meant, neither did she appear to think the remark
needed explanation. She left her hand in his, and to-
gether they passed down the bracken corridor, be-
tween the vassals, while Humphrey vaguely felt that
it was like walking down a church, with his bride upon
his arm—a thought which made his brain so giddy as
to preclude other ideas or speech until they had reached
the wide track where the big touring car had just come
to a standstill in the forest drive, Nada beside the
chauffeur in front, and Evadne alone in the tonneau.


THE KIDNAPPING 277
Obviously, the princess had not expected to be
stopped in the woods. She leaned forward somewhat
on her dignity. The sight of Varley, however, imme-
diately reassured her. He made the introduction of
the two countesses in proper form, and the prickles
completely subsided.
The countess then explained her little plan. The
lodgings she had occupied while in Kilistria were so
small that Baron Herluin had thought it would be
more pleasant for them to meet al fresco. The servants
had brought a picnic lunch, with the compliments of
the Great Lord of Castle Kyriel; and if the princess
liked the plan, he recommended, as an ideal spot, the
forest at the head of the lake, on the way to Syllis.
Did the princess know it?
Humphrey’s keen eye was upon the proud little face
which he knew so well, and he saw Evadne’s eyes kindle
like those of a child at prospect of a treat. Her life
was as a rule so circumscribed, so ruled out into monot-
onous sections, that this was quite an adventure for
her. But for the pricking thought which lay at the
back of her mind, she would have given herself over
heart and soul to the unconventional joy of this meet-
ing with the lady to whom her unconventional husband
owed his life. Even as it was, lacerated as her feelings
were by that secret horror, she yet caught at the notion
of an expedition which would take her out of herself,
help her forget the past, and to begin to adjust herself
to the thought of a future which would have seemed,
one week ago, too joyful for belief.
No doubt or mistrust invaded her mind. She glanced
at Humphrey for his approval, and Humphrey evi-
dently knew all about it. It appeared that Herluin, the
previous day, had explained all the arrangements to
him. The car was at the service of the princess for'the
entire day, and the chauffeur knew the way. As Bar-


278 THE KING’S WIDOW
Bar was not starting for the capital until the afternoon,
owing to her invalid habits, and the king and queen
knew nothing of the princess’s intention to go by road,
nobody would be anxious, and they might have a de-
lightful day. The weather was perfect and Evadne,
glancing from the countess to her daughter, thought
she had never seen more attractive people.
The royal assent given, the conspirators heaved sighs
of relief, the baskets of provisions were quickly stowed,
the Countess Loriscu was installed beside her highness,
and Humphrey and Beruna as in a dream, found them-
selves side by side, in close proximity, a fact so inter-
esting and exciting that, had the drive lasted a week
instead of a day, they would not have found it too long
for the realisation of their sensations. One startling
discovery was that of the extent to which one may use
language as a cover for thought, may say something
trivial and yet convey, to the right person, something
of extraordinary importance. He sat drinking in the
satisfaction of feeling more and more sure that the
magnetic attraction of which he was conscious was
mutual; while the countess, facing them, was pouring
into Evadne’s eager car all the true, secret history of
the long-past tragedy in Dalmeira.
The lady had the art of narration, and so absorbed
was her listener in what she had to tell, and so lost in
one another the two who sat facing them, that nobody
had time to notice exactly whither they were being
driven. The miles slipped by unheeded until at last
the chauffeur slackened speed, at the foot of a hill in a
lovely wood, and said that there was a spot here, not
far from the path, beside a mountain stream, which
the Great Lord thought would be the very place for a
picnic.
Everybody agreed with delight. Their surroundings
were so beautiful that nobody complained of the un-


THE KIDNAPPING 279
doubted fact that they had no distant prospect, but
were shut in by the forest in all directions. Evadne
by this time was so absorbed in the thought of Leon-
hardt’s adventures, that she cared not where she went
nor what she did, provided only she was with Countess
Loriscu, and could listen to the wild tale.
Could such a man as this pardon what had happened
to her in the darkness? She could plead that it was
her own craving for him—her delight in the thought
that he had come to her—which was responsible for
her impetuosity. In the depths of her she knew that
there was more than the mere mistake to be confessed.
The man who had taken her ﬁrst kiss of love had taken
also some portion of her heart which left her the
poorer.
Varley, when he had a look, a thought, a moment
to spare from his own romance, thought the princess’s
beauty more evident than he had ever seen it. Some-
thing had come to her, something had touched her.
She was more consciously a woman than when he had
ﬁrst known her. ,
He remembered his early impression of her, as a
creature of the woods and waters, running, swimming,
rowing with the boy, almost a boy herself, with a cer-
tain brusquerie, a certain detachment, in her whole
manner. Now she was pure woman from her burnished
hair to her shoe-tip. The thought troubled him. Was
it by any dire chance Theobald who had wrought the
change? For he could not assure himself that she
looked happy.‘ There was trouble mingled in the
beauty she displayed, trouble which perhaps enhanced
its charm.
When they had lunched, and strolled a little in the
fairy glades, the chauffeur asked them if they would
like to hear some peasants sing. A group of pic-
turesque-looking folks, two men and two girls, were


280 THE KING’S WIDOW
then brought up to them, and they began to sing in
parts, and with much taste and feeling. The music
and words were both strange to Varley and the princess.
Varley guessed that the singers were Pannonian; but
as no such thought seemed to visit Evadne, he said
nothing. After they had sung twice or thrice, they
looked at one another, and said something which the
Countess Loriscu interpreted. “They say this will be
the last one,” said she smiling.
As its ﬁrst strains reached Humphrey’s very mod-
erately musical car, he recognised the thing. It was
the signal tune. His eye ﬂew to Beruna’s, and they
both grew scarlet. Evadne, however, had no leisure
to remark the fact, for she was listening with kindled
eyes and her own colour was heightened.
“Why,” said she, “I know that! It is the Pannonian
national anthem.”
Countess Loriscu smiled.
“In compliment to you. They must know or have
guessed who you are,” said she.
Evadne eagerly took a gold piece from her slender
purse and gave it to the singers, her eyes full of tears,
though she smiled. They were evidently enchanted,
alike by her recognition of the tune and her apprecia-
tion of it. They bowed themselves off with many
smiles, and after they had gone, Evadne remarked—-
“Travelling singers. They must come from Pan-
nonia, I should think.”
“I have no doubt of it,” replied the countess.
The sound of that tune brought back to Humphrey
with great vividness his own experiences, his own puz-
zles with regard to the presence of the Pole on Kyriel
Moor, and Anton’s dealings with him. Since Anton
was the king’s faithful friend, there was little doubt
that it was a case of the biter bit. Woronz must have
been allowed to suppose that he was duping Anton


ON THE FRONTIER 285
The hand resting upon Humphrey’s arm tightened
its grip unconsciously as she passed through the wicket
gate into the garden of the well remembered inn. The
ﬁrst object which caught her eye was a huge ﬂower-bed
in the midst of a grass plot, upon which, on a ground
of white arabis, scarlet geraniums had been planted in
the shape of a large key.
The sign of the unpretentious hostelry had been new
painted, and dangled before her. Her knowledge of
her new language was enough for her to know that it
was “The Golden Key,” even without the testimony of
the emblem itself, painted underneath.
The two little touches of sentiment pricked her like
thorns. She could have wept.
At one end of the garden, screened alike from the
road and from the inn windows by rose-covered trellis,
stood an arbour. The landlord conducted them thither,
bent almost double, resisting as by an effort the tempta-
tion to fall upon his knees before her, and flinging
himself at her feet almost before she was seated, stoop-
ing to kiss the delicate shoe that peeped from beneath
her skirt.
As he raised himself from his abasement and looked
at her with the tears in his flashing eyes, she noticed
that upon his coat was pinned a little golden key, with
a blue and black ribbon, having a narrow scarlet edge.
After that, it was hardly surprising to note that the
tea-table, set out with all preparations for tea, was
furnished with crockery painted with a design of
crossed keys.
Realising that she wished to read her letter in
privacy, her little suite withdrew and stood at some
distance in a group upon the lawn, within call, while
she unsealed the envelope, and with shaking hand drew
out the enclosure. It was not, as she had expected, in
the handwriting of the Grand Duke of Marvilion.


ON THE FRONTIER 287
their power to make you comfortable and prevent your
feeling lonely, or timid. But you are never timid, you
are always glorious——
Madam, I ask pardon. That was inadvertence.
I only add that I hope to be with you to-morrow
morning, with the Grand Duke and Herluin. We shall
then proceed in state to the capital, and at the cathe-
dral, the archbishop will bless our marriage.
Till then I lay my homage at your feet.
LEONHARDT R.
P.S.—All goes well for our cause. Better than I
dared to hope. The people seem to think me miracu-
lous.
She read this letter swiftly through. When she had
ﬁnished she sat quite still—~so still that a robin hopped
chirping close to her foot. She could not at ﬁrst realise
that here was certainty, that this was conﬁrmation of
all her grimmest fears.
There lay now before her the dreadful task of
acquainting the king with what had happened. It must
be told. The inﬂexible honesty of her whole tempera-
ment demanded that it should be told, and that before
the ﬁnal ratiﬁcation of their marriage.
. . . . It must be done by letter. Never could she
look him in the face and speak the necessary words.
It was all illusion—deception of an ignorant girl.
. . . A cloak for the real object for which the scoun-
drel had come creeping into her chamber.
To steal—such was his object. How well and thor-
oughly he had accomplished it must never be known to
any human creature but herself.
That ﬁnal kiss in the dark doorway—succeeded in-
stantly by the start of guilty terror at sound of the
shots in the night. . . .


288 THE KING’S WIDO’W.
It must be as if it had never been. The future, at
least, should belong loyally to the King of Pannonia.
What faced her now was the need to play her part in
seemly fashion until she could seize a moment to write
her confession.
With a movement of her hand, she summoned Var-
ley to her side. He approached, followed by a young
officer, resplendent with orders, in whose handsome
face she recognised the features of Anton of the Forest
Guard.
He was duly presented, and kissed her hand with
grace. She asked if a letter from herself could be con-
veyed to the king, so that he might receive it on his way
to Syllis. “I have here,” said she, “a letter from His
Majesty which seems to demand a reply.”
She was at once assured that she had only to com-
mand. Whatever she wished should be done. Would
she write her letter now, or have tea ﬁrst?
She would have liked to write that moment, while
still possessing a remnant of the courage which seemed
to be failing every instant; but in consideration for her
suite she said they might bring tea ﬁrst.
The two gentlemen bowed and retired to give the
order; afterwards joining the two ladies on the lawn,
and continuing their conversation while a waiter
brought out the tea-pot and accessories.
Evadne remained so deeply sunk in thought that she
forgot to wonder whether this might be described as
remissness on the part of her suite. Elbows on knees,
chin cupped in hands, she sat gazing down, apparently
upon the tiled ﬂoor, but actually into abysses of humil-
iation.
A pause, or cessation of the waiter’s movements
about the table, snatched back her wandering attention.
The man had completed the setting out of dainties, and


CHAPTER XXX
THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE
N the quarters prepared for her, the new queen
suffered her maid to array her for the evening.
All that love and forethought could devise had been
done to make the humble hostelry comfortable for its
royal guest. A doorway had been cut in one wall of her
bedchamber, and in the adjacent room a bath was in-
stalled, with a stove to heat the water. The paint and
furniture were white, the 'carpet was black velvet pile,
the hangings and coverlet pale blue; and wherever the
scheme of decoration permitted, was embroidered in
scarlet a small key.
Nada was nervous—almost tearful. To ﬁnd oneself
thus suddenly and without warning set to dress the
hair of a reigning sovereign was enough to scatter the
wits of the country girl. TO wonder how soon she
would be superseded was a damping process of
thought.
She badly needed encouragement—even that her
royal mistress should laugh at her. But Evadne sat
like a statue, the life and animation drained out of her.
Only a few days ago, what triumphant cheer would
have been hers, at sight of the devotion so tenderly
expressed in the little devices for her comfort!
As it was, she sat there, within a few hOurs of her
nuptials, with her heart full of the fear of another man
-—asking herself what form the blackmail demanded
by the spy would be likely to take. ‘
r
291


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 293
that she and Beruna were made to be friends; but so
far there was no sign that the queen thought so.
She could not keep her mind ﬁxed upon the present
moment. Ceaselessly she was considering her problem.
For, with all her shrinking, it was gradually borne in
upon her that she and this man must have things out.
He Was there, in the hotel, wearing her favour pinned
to his coat, her ring about his neck. What was the use
of pretending? Through all his arrogance, his pitiless
strength, there flickered a gleam of something else—
some secret appeal which laid hands upon the very
springs of life and made her, for the ﬁrst time in her
memory, afraid.
Dinner over, they all moved into a small adjoining
room, really a bar, but converted for the evening into
a lounge. The queen did not like to excuse herself at
once, though she felt inclined to bolt for the covert of
her room the moment they rose from table. She gave
permission for everyone to smoke, and for a few
minutes they sat round, not knowing very well what
to say.
Countess Loriscu, judging from what she had heard,
had expected to ﬁnd the princess much more equal to
the occasion than she was. Varley knowing, as she
did not, how unlike herself Evadne now appeared, was
obsessed with the dreadful thought that she was griev-
ing for Theobald. He was, however, not quite so
occupied with the state of the royal affections as he
might have been if less engrossed with the question of
his own.
Beruna in a white evening gown was a sight to dis-
tract the attention of any young man. In about a
quarter of an hour, he and she slipped away together
with Anton into the moonlit garden. Anton reappeared
almost at once, and asked if his mother would speak to
him for a moment.


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 295
and—and the kisses. They belong not to you, but to
my husband, as you know well.”
“Oh, you are ” Abruptly he broke off, almost
as if he were choking. He advanced two or three
steps, so purposefully that she looked up to see what he
intended; and straightway she forgot his absurd dress
suit, his neatly brushed hair, and foppish moustache.
It was a man who stood before her—a man ﬁghting
for the thing he wanted most in all the world.
“They belong to your husband, do they? Then let
him come and take them from me!”
She laughed tauntingly.
“Have no fear. He will certainly do that; unless
you are prudent enough to disappear before he ar-
rives.”
There was a very odd twist upon his mouth. “So,”
said he, “you wish to convey to me the absurd impres-
sion that you, proudest among women, are going to
confess to the king that you took another man for him
in the dark—and that man a common waiter?”
She turned white at the lash of his words, but faced
him undaunted.
“Yes! That is what I shall tell him; and when he
knows it—Heaven help you!”
“I answer rather, Heaven help him—the king who
must go without!”
She rose to her feet, and retorted without pause.
“Why do you say he must go without? If any
man in the world knows what I am prepared to give
my husband, it is you, who played his part!”
His whole face grew radiant. The passion in it
melted to utter tenderness. If never again in her life
she might see love and desire in a man’s face, she
looked upon it then. So whole-souled, so genuine, was
this passion that for a moment it held the stage by its


296 THE KING’S WIDOW
own force, and all disparity was wiped out by sheer
strength of will.
And yet-,-as he drew nearer, and she wondered
whether the intensity of his gaze were hypnotic, she
knew nevertheless that, in the ultimate resort, she was
the stronger of the two: It was she who would decide
—she had but to hold to her determination. Sooner
or later he must accept it; for he loved her.
“I am not afraid of you,” said she. “Do your
worst.”
“The queen,” said he, still with that radiant face,
“knows me so little that she actually thinks I mean
to blackmail her. She does not reﬂect that, even if she
owes her life to me, I owe mine likewise to her, who
found a way for me to leave the bungalow unseen.”
“Nothing of the kind. They would not have killed
you when they found out who you were. The fact that
you were my rescuer would have protected you ”
“You don’t know all,” he replied quietly. “The
Forest Guard were not my only foes that night. You
did save my life, and for that reason I suppose I must
let you off lightly. There is a condition upon which I
will set you free—a condition so generous that it sur-
prises even me—but perhaps I want you to cherish a
memory of me which will not be a bitter one.”
“You dare to speak to me of conditions ?”
“I do indeed. I will return to you the turquoise
key, on the sole condition that you allow me to return
to you also the—other things you gave me at the
bungalow.”
His manner had been so respectful, so adoring, that
the sudden change found her off guard. She shrank
back away from him before she had time to collect
herself, with a cry of fear she would have given much
to recall.
“So!” he said, showing his white teeth in a smile—a


298 THE KING’S WIDOW
asked Evadne then, turning with astonishment to the
young officer. .
“He says, Madam, that you have been entrapped,
kidnapped by emissaries of the Pretender, and brought
here against your will.”
“The Pretender?”
“He declares, Madam, I do but repeat his words——
that our king does not really exist, but that this is a
plot of the Grand Duke of Marvilion.”
“A plot? Of what kind?”
“Madam, if the gentlemen are admitted, they had
better speak for themselves.”
The young captain’s voice died away as Count
Loriscu, followed by Humphrey Varley, entered
through the window.
“Your Majesty has heard,” he said, “that the Prince
of Grenzenmark, with a zeal for your safety none the
less admirable because mistaken, has come, with a very
small following, into Pannonia itself, to ascertain the
real position of affairs. This is a sign of his devotion
to yourself, and we think, if you have no serious ob-
jection, that the gentleman should be made welcome,
and allowed to see for himself that no constraint is
being put upon you.”
Evadne hesitated, and glanced at Varley. Those
words of the young captain—“he says that our king
does not really exist”-—sang in her head disagreeably.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“I agree with Count Loriscu,” replied Varley, “that
the prince and his retinue should be admitted, if they
will submit to be searched for arms before crossing the
frontier, and give their parole to attempt no breach
of the peace. When they are satisﬁed that Your
Majesty is here willingly, they should not detain you
very long.”


THEOBALD TO THE RESCUE 299
“Their escort,” put in Anton, “is a handful, and
Your Majesty is surrounded by her own troops.”
“Very good. Let them in,” returned Evadne, still
struggling with her sense that something was strange,
or wrong, or other than it seemed, in this revolution
from which the principal ﬁgure remained so mysteri-
ously absent.
The gentlemen disappeared on their errand, and the
two ladies came in from the garden and stationed them-
selves behind the queen’s chair. In a very few minutes
Anton and Varley returned, leading with them Prince
Theobald himself, General Helso, and the attaché, von
Reulenz.
The ardour of the deliverer with which Theobald
came impetuously in, was checked in mid-ﬂow by the
evident calmness of the queen. His certainty of her
having been entrapped melted away before her dig-
niﬁed but very simple explanation. She regretted the
haste with which it had been necessary to act, and her
lack of message of farewell to himself. “His Maj-
esty’s affairs were urgent.”
“I had the honour to inform Your Highness, during
our last interview,” she added, “that there were cir-
cumstances which might make it impossible that any-
thing should come of our pleasant friendship. It was
not until later that my secret information was con-
ﬁrmed by ofﬁcial announcement. The survival of my
husband must, as you will readily acknowledge, con-
stitute a complete barrier.”
“If your husband indeed survives, there were a bar-
rier in truth, Madam. But I hope to convince you that
there is an error somewhere. The King of Pannonia
was murdered in the streets of Dalmeira, years ago.
I have brought with me General Helso, who knows
how the rumour of the king’s survival gained ground.
The person who claims to be Leonhardt is, in fact, his


300 THE KING’S WIDOW
friend and cousin Michael Ferolitz, who received, in
the street ﬁghting, a wound which unsettled his reason.
It is quite possible that this unfortunate gentleman is
fully persuaded that he is in fact the man he pretends
to be. But we can assure you most positively that the
whole thing is a delusion.”
Helso bowed deeply before the queen.
“I can conﬁrm every word the prince has said.
Ferolitz was hidden, nursed back to life, and pro-
tected by the family of conspirators whom I now see
behind Your Majesty’s chair. The late Count Loriscu,
his wife, his son, his daughter. They no doubt taught
him his story, and he gradually grew to believe in it
himself. Acting upon secret information in order to
prevent the sinister plot which has in fact been hatched,
we removed the invalid into our own keeping, and
he was carefully tended in the fortress of Gollancz.
It is a thousand pities that the preoccupations of war
denuded the castle of its garrison and made escape
possible. I myself had the honour to be for a short
time governor there, and I saw the prisoner several
times. I am able to give you my solemn word that
he was not and is not the King of Pannonia, nor does
he even resemble him.”
A thousand doubts and fears warred in the queen’s
heart as he spoke. She believed in her friends, she
believed in the Grand Duke of Marvilion above all.
But, if Leonhardt really lived, why did he not show
himself? Why all this subterfuge and concealment?
Just as she was debating how best to reply to the
charge hurled against the Loriscus, the door of the
room in which they were was thrown open, and in
walked the Grand Duke of Marvilion himself, in the
full splendours of his ﬁeld marshal’s uniform, accompa-
nied by his wife, the Grand Duchess Edmée; and fol-
lowed by Baron Herluin and the members of the suite.


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 303
glasses with wine, carried them across the room to
where the two Norderners stood side by side. She
saw that he made a Sign, slight and swift, but a deﬁnite
sign, with his left hand as he came near them; and the
face of the general grew absolutely radiant with satis-
faction. He seemed as if he could hardly contain
himself. With a laugh so unsteady that the Grand
Duchess Edmée looked up to see if he were the worse
for drink, he raised his glass.
“Queen Evadne,” he cried, “let us drink again that
toast you once gave us on the Cloister Isle—let us
drink—To the King’s return!”
Evadne sprang to her feet. She held out her hand
for a glass and Stepan brought it instantly. She lifted
it on high, and stood so, her lips slightly apart, her
whole form thrilled, while Raoul caught up the toast
and gave it out in his jolly big voice—
“To the King’s return!”
As upon the isle, in setting down her glass, she
found the eyes of the spy ﬁxed upon her. He was quite
close. He held the tray and she placed her hardly
tasted wine upon it, while for a second her eyes and
his met with a shock as of bodily impact.
She almost screamed. In a moment the truth seemed
to ﬂame out before her. This man was an enemy spy.
He would not, could not, dare to speak and act as he
had dared to speak and act an hour ago, if he did not
know that the king was dead. Had his been the hand
to deal the blow? Was that the meaning of the ra-
diance on those Nordern faces? Was that the source
of their astonishment? Had they not looked to see
their tool come unscathed from the murder of the man
who had so long eluded them?
The room full of people—life, the world, her fate,
whirled on; and it seemed to her that she remained
passive in the heart of it all. Need she move or


304 THE KING’S WIDOW
speak? If she might stay quiet, quite quiet, just for a
few minutes while the mists cleared. . . .
. . . She found that Theobald was speaking.
“One grows impatient for the appearance of His
Most Gracious Majesty. When will it take place,
Duke Raoul?”
“Echo answers, when?” laughed Helso boisterously.
“Has this King any existence, except in dreams?”
There was a slight, just perceptible pause before
the grand duke answered; but it was long enough for
Evadne to forecast at least four forms of tragedy.
“To say truth, I expected to ﬁnd him here,” said
Raoul at last. “Has he not arrived?”
His wife looked up at him with a dawning anxiety
in her eyes.
Evadne wanted to say that in his letter to her, the
king had mentioned the following morning for his
arrival; but she did not speak, for she was afraid of
being unable to ﬁnd a voice.
“Perhaps,” suggested Theobald to Helso, “this is
all a huge jest, perpetrated for our beneﬁt by the
swashbuckling duke?”
“A good stage scene,” echoed Helso gleefully, “fol-
lowed, on the non-appearance of the king, by the sug-
gestion of some of those present that to avoid disap-
pointing the populace the grand duke himself should
mount the vacant throne.”
Helso came close to where Evadne sat gripping the
arms of her chair. “Madam,” he said seriously, “if
this man whom you expect is the prisoner of the fort-
ress of Gollancz, I can swear to you that he is Michael
Ferolitz.”
Evadne had had her moment, and she was now
armed. There before her stood her friends of Mar-
vilion, her subjects of Pannonia. There also were the
dastard Norderners and their spy. She struck her


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 305
frail clenched hand upon the carven wood of the chair,
and spoke.
“If this man who claims to be my husband he in
reality Count Ferolitz, there is an easy proof ready
to hand. I know one fact for certain respecting Count
Ferolitz, a fact which no passing of years can alter.
When he came to Gailima for my proxy wedding, he
was in great pain' from a decayed tooth. I well re-
member the circumstances, for my brother, King Boris,
wrote a letter to the court dentist and summoned him
to extract it about eight o’clock in the evening, in order
that the sufferer might have a good night’s rest. If
the king, when he comes, will submit to have his mouth
examined, and if the left eye-tooth in his lower jaw
be his own, then, whoever he is or may be, he cannot
be Count Ferolitz.”
' “Capital!” cried Raoul merrily. “Why has nobody
thought of that, I wonder?”
“I do not expect that anyone but myself would re-
member it, Raoul; but the story can be confirmed, for
I know the dentist keeps a record of every extraction."
“Then,”_ said Theobald smoothly, “one longs more
than ever for the actual appearance of a man so easily
identiﬁable. If he comes not, what is likely to hap-
pen P”
“Why,” cut in von Reulenz quickly, “as Duke Raoul
repudiates the idea of reigning, perhaps Her Majesty
and Prince Theobald could suggest, between them, a
way to ﬁll the vacant throne, a way involving nothing
but a change of bridegroom—that would indeed be a
dénouement, and a ﬁne one!”
“But not so unexpected, perhaps, as the actual one,”
said Stepan Woronz quietly.
Had a dog or a cat spoken in that assembly, the
audience could hardly have been more completely
startled to attention. The Pole had laid down his


306 THE KING’S WIDOW
tray of glasses, had gone right up to the Norderners,
and was standing before them in a way which caused
them actually to ﬂinch, as before some nameless peril.
“Look at me well, von Reulenz,” said he. “Do you
notice anything unusual in my appearance ?”
Von Reulenz had become ghastly. His knees
seemed to sag as he stared into the face before him.
“You are—wearing a wig—you have on a false
moustache”—he gave a sound like a scream, horrible
it sounded from a male throat. “Who are you? Great
Heavens, he has murdered the Pole and is masquer-
ading in his clothes!”
With a deft, rapid movement, Woronz pulled off
his black wig and his little black moustache. He stood
before them all, clean-shaven, fair-haired; and some
subtle transformation seemed to have added a couple
of inches to his height.
“I am Leonhardt of Vrelde,” said he.
No one spoke. He might have stood in the hall
of the Sleeping Beauty in the Wood. All were struck
dumb. After a long moment of that uncanny silence
he went on speaking.
“As Captain Rosmer the Swede, and as Woronz the
Pole, I have fooled Nordernreich almost to the limit
of my own desire. I have taken the only path their
diabolical treachery left open to me, the path of in-
trigue. I have pitted my wits against their political
power, and—I have won. From the lips of her own
servants have I heard how N ordernreich handed over
to the assassin’s knife the man she had raised to a
throne. I know what treatment she intended to mete
out to her dear friend Kilistria. There is hardly a
secret of her covetous, murderous heart which is not
known to me. A useful preparation for the man who
mounts the throne of this country! General Helso,
Herr von Reulenz, Prince Theobald of Grenzenmark,


THE TRIUMPH OF WORONZ 307
{you are all my prisoners. Your escort is already in-
terned, in company with the couple of dozen of Nor-
dern spies collected throughout the country. By the
way, the gentleman called Kamp is not among these.
He met with an accident lately, in the grounds of
Florémar. I wish you good evening, gentlemen, and
trust your captivity may not be long. Your beloved
fatherland can have you all back as soon as she pays
the indemnity for my dethronement, and its costs to
my country, as shall be determined by the parliament
of Pannonia, when it meets next week.”
He paused, turned slowly round, and instead of
facing the men he had just denounced, he looked across
the room to where Evadne sat, pale in her trance-like
stillness. His face lit up as though sunshine touched it.
“In welcoming the Queen of Pannonia to her coun-
try,” said he with a deep bow, “I would like to assure
her that the lower eye-tooth on the left side of my jaw,
is like all my other teeth—in the place where it al-
ways grew. Anyone who wishes to ascertain the truth
of this may—put his hand into the lion’s mouth.”
Helso came out of his amazement with a yell of
rage.
“Are you not ashamed—are you not ashamed to
stand there and own to your low, mean, crawling trade
of spy?” he shrieked.
The king had been advancing towards his wife’s
chair. Turning, he looked back at the inﬂamed coun-
tenance of the general, held up his head and squared
his shoulders. The deferential waiter had wholly van-
ished, and a king stood there in his clothes.
“No, I am not at all ashamed. There is nothing
I would not suffer, and no degradation to which I
would not stoop, to do what I have done, to snatch my
bleeding, helpless country out of the foul hands of
Nordernreich. So help me, God!”


CHAPTER XXXII
THE TRUTH OF IT ALL
HE queen rose to her feet. Something in her
face arrested the king within some paces of her.
She spoke, and Varley was amazed at the cold clear-
ness of her tone.
“May I point out to Your Majesty that Prince
Theobald is a guest in my brother’s country, and
crossed your frontier at his own risk, because he be-
lieved me to be in danger?”
Leonhardt bowed deferentially.
“Let me assure you, Madam, that the prince shall
have royal treatment,” he said, “although the reasons
you give for his presence here to-night are not perfectly
accurate.”
General Helso pressed forward.
“King Leonhardt, you have outwitted us so com-
pletely that you can surely afford to be merciful. The
prince has no connection with our political aims.”
“You surpass yourself, general. You offer me this,
immediately after my telling you that your secret di-
plomacy lies at my mercy? Your effrontery is really
surprising. Five minutes ago, upon entering this room,
I gave the secret signal which was to convey to you all
the news that the King of Pannonia would not arrive
here this evening. In other words--the news that he
had really been assassinated this time, without hope
of resurrection. Judging, from the joy which lit up
the interesting face of the prince, I think he was not
308


310 THE KING’S WIDOW
mind yet,” he said, “we must let her get used to the
idea of marrying a jack-of-all-trades. Glad I de-
ceived even you, old man.”
“You have deceived me for months,” put in Varley
with quiet amusement. Leonhardt started, looked at
him, went up and greeted him warmly.
“Yes,” he said, “I used to ache to tell you all about
it, but I simply dare not open my mouth to a soul.
Too much hung upon it. I could see no way to a com-
plete safeguard, if my secret was known to a creature.
Anton here, went with his life in his hand—but he’ll
tell you, I was more than once on the very point of
letting you in, particularly that day you had been talk-
ing to the Countess Beruna, and I came along, dressed
like a pedlar. I actually ran after you into the woods
that afternoon, but you had got off too quickly.”
“You didn’t wear a wig as a rule,” said Varley with
conviction.
“Of course not! I was obliged to this evening, be-
cause I wanted to unmask before you all! As a rule,
I have used a stain, and as my hair is snow white in
reality I can be what colour I please, eyebrows and all.
The stuff I use is easily removable, not being a dye;
but sometimes it is a bit too easily removable, as for
example when I’ve been all night in the lake.”
“Got it about its natural colour now,” remarked
the grand duke chuckling.
Leonhardt went to a mirror and contemplated him-
self earnestly.
“I don’t want to make my ﬁrst appearance among
my subjects as a grey old grandsire.”
“Subjects be blowed,” laughed Raoul, “we know
better. It’s the queen who must be charmed with the
first sight.of her lord and master.”
“That is so,” observed Leonhardt doubtfully, his
eyes regarding his own image with much distaste. “I


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 311
hardly realised what a slug I look in this diseased
dress-coat,” said he. “Excuse me, you fellows, while
I go and put on some decent clothes. I must have a
chat with her before to-morrow, and it’s getting late.”
He ran out of the room, and the four men stood
gazing upon one another.
“Well !” said Varley, with a long sigh. “He mysti-
ﬁed me completely. I could not make up my mind
about him. Knew he was a spy of some kind right
enough, but could not decide upon which side.”
“What a man!” put in Raoul.
“Fancy that swim he took, the night of the storm,
and all the time she was his wife!”
“Yes,” observed Anton thoughtfully, “that nearly
broke him. I don’t mean that the physical effort nearly
broke him, though it was stupendous. It was her dis-
like of him, her scorn, her rudeness. She had taken
an acute distaste for him—why I hardly know. But
I expect it was one of these subconscious impressions.
He was not able to hide from her entirely the fact
that he was always thinking about her. Anyway, that
morning on the shore, he had practically determined,
if she was conscious when she awoke, and understood
things, that he would tell her who he was. He thought,
after what he had gone through for her, she might
have a kind word for him.”
“And she hadn’t?” demanded Raoul anxiously.
“Not much. You see, she did not understand. She
had no idea he had rescued her, but imagined she had
been washed ashore. He wouldn’t explain, and all she
thought of was that her friends were drowned, and be,
her béte noire, was alive. It bowled him over badly,
at the end of his tether as he was, after the struggle
and exposure—-—”
“A marvellous feat!” cried Humphrev, “even now
I can’t believe he did it.”


THE TRUTH OF IT ALL 313
to her face to face. He said it was treating her abom-
inably to allow her to go on in uncertainty. I ar-
gued, implored, threatened. No use. He had the bit
between his teeth. I was forced to surrender to him
the key of the iron veranda gates—which meant the
death punishment if I was found out—and oﬂ he went
on his wild errand, which almost cost him everything.”
“Cost him everything?”
“Yes. They had got wind, at headquarters in Nor-
dernreich, that something was wrong. They felt sure
that old Glanz was being hoodwinked. Their reason
for this supposition was the fact that the Grand Duke
of Marvilion had such an uncanny foreknowledge of
every move in the Nordern strategy. Information
was leaking, somehow, and they made up their minds
that the ambassador was relying upon his precious
Swede, Rosmer as he called himself, too implicitly.
By the advice of this man—Kamp, his name was——they
sent him down to Florémar, behind the back of their
own envoy. As you know, I was away for a few days,
tapping wireless messages in Gailima; and during those
few days the beast was on the prowl, and we never
knew it. That mad night, when the king swam from
Tuich’s Cove, and landed at Water Gate, he was
tracked. He knew he was followed, and he knew it
was by someone who did not belong to the Forest
Guard, because the tracker, whoever it was, fell back
at the inner boundary fence of the princess’s private
garden, knowing better than to risk a brush with Mis~
titch’s men. So the king got in safely, but how to get
out again he could not imagine.”
“He saw the queen?”
“I think he must have done, though he has never
said a word of it to me. I judge merely by the fact
that she put Prince Ra’s coat and cap on him, and sent
him out the other side of the bungalow. I was wait-


314 THE KING’S WIDOW
ing for him at a spot agreed upon, with a couple of
bicycles; and I was beginning to think he must have
been taken, for it was very late—dawn was coming
on. Had it not been for that glimmer of dawn, I think
it would have been all over. I just caught sight of a
head, reared for a moment, dark against a little bit
of sky that showed between the trees. I knew it was
not the king, because we had our long distance signal.
I listened with all my ears and heard, at long, long
intervals, the tiny sounds that indicated that someone
was approaching the bicycles where they lay upon the
ground. I was well hidden, and I waited. Just as
the man got up to where the machines lay, I thought
I heard the king’s signal; and the brute heard some-
thing too. I was so close then that I was able to act.
I ﬂashed the light of my pocket torch right in his face,
covering him with my revolver. I saw he was a stran-
ger, saw him lift his own shooting iron; and I ﬁred
at once. He ﬁred too, but I had my aim, and he had
not, I could see him, he could only ﬁre into the ray
of my light. He barely grazed me, but I killed him.”
“It was Kamp?”
“It was. I don’t quite know what was the noise we
heard, but it was not the king, for it was half an hour
later when he found me. Then the question of getting
rid of the body became urgent. We took the Baron
Herluin into our confidence. The king made his plan.
Up at my cottage was the entire outﬁt of the stranger
pedlar, which the king had been using. I went and
got it, we clothed the dead spy in it, the baron brought
a car, and we took it up to the glen cottage, which my
mother and sister had vacated a day or two previously,
for Castle Kyriel.”
“But I cannot see how you eluded Mistitch,” said
Raoul in surprise.
“We did not. The king knew we could not. The


THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY 317
showed her completely startled. Her face was flushed,
her eyes swam in tears.
“Leonhardt, how could you? How could you?”
- “How could I what?”
“Torture me like that?”
“Torture?”
“By pretending to be—to be
“By appearing before you as Woronz P” he asked,
with the smile which showed his teeth, and was so
characteristic of him that he never allowed it to ap-
pear when he was masquerading as anyone else. “But
I assure you it was I, and not you who got the sur-
prise, little lady! I swear I never meant any hocus
pocus, all I meant was to show you that we were one
and the same person. I thought the sight of the tur~
quoise key must be convincing—you were convinced,
at the bungalow, the other night, weren’t you?”
“Oh yes, I was, I was! But———”
“Well, what I wanted to do was just to let you know
that the man you feared and disliked had always been
your slave, after all—that it was I who swam with
you through the storm, and so on. I felt quite sure
you would know me at once. There never was a man
more surprised than I was when you began conde-
scending to me. I really thought at ﬁrst that you were
having me on. I did, indeed! Do you know what I
expected you to say—what I hoped you’d say?”
“No, how should I?”
“I hoped you’d come out with something like I once
heard you say to Ra—spoilt boy—on the island.
‘Drop it, you priceless idiot!’ "
She gave an hysterical little laugh that was half a
sob.
“Oh, how true that would have been! You are a
priceless idiot!” she began, but her voice would not
be controlled, and she had to stop ignominiously.
H


318 .T HE KING’S WIDOW
He stroked her hands gently.
“Well,” he went on, “when I saw that you really
did not know, that you hadn’t grasped that Woronz
and I were one and the same person, I could not help
going on a little longer. Can’t you realise the tempta-
tion? Ah, but I forgot! You don’t understand how
I had been feeling. You don’t know how jolly near
I came to suicide that morning on the beach, when I
had fought with death for you all night, ﬁrst with the
water, then with the cold—and you turned from me
as if I had the plague, and said to Niklaus—‘Don’t
let that waiter come in the boat with us.’ I thought—
‘If she has such a down on me as all that, what is the
good of going on?’ ”
“But—but you’re so different. You and he are not
—not the least bit alike ”
“Are we not?” he muttered softly. “Only in one
thing perhaps—we are both utter fools where you
are concerned. But can’t you picture the temptation
it was this evening, when I saw how you were being
drawn on by some inﬂuence you couldn’t understand?
You didn’t hate Woronz this evening, after dinner,
just before we were interrupted, did you?”
She shuddered; but she looked at him under her
lashes, and her mouth grew tender.
“I’m afraid my besetting sin is the desire for con-
quest,” he admitted shamefacedly. “I felt it would be
such a score for me if I could make—make you love
that confounded waiter.”
“He was always you—from the very ﬁrst?” she
whispered.
“From the very ﬁrst. My ﬁrst sight of you was
upon that morning when you swam with Ra to the
island. I was hiding there, and heard you chipping
one another—heard you laugh, saw you smile—saw
you run like Atalanta along the sand! And I said to


THE ORDER OF THE GOLDEN KEY 319
myself, ‘Oh, I shall never bring this off! Life with
that girl would be too like heaven! The whole idea’s
absurd!’ ”
“Then you understood all we said to each other
that afternoon when we had tea at the hotel? I knew
you did. Somehow I could feel it.”
“Yes; and it was all I could do, several times, to
refrain from chuckling. Oh, I’ve had some steep bits
to climb! But I got on all right until Theobald started
his cursed love-making. It was that which sent me
wild. Well, then, you know, that morning in Tuich’s
Cove, I had you_to myself at last, and I thought I
would give you a hint. But, my word! You did drive
it in, up to the hilt! Well, even if I have teased you
a bit this evening, I can’t have hurt you anything like
to the extent to which I suffered then.”
“Ah, but you don’t know half! You don’t know
how much I had to make me suspicious, to make me
fear you! Do you realise that when my hand caught
yours in the dark—or you caught mine—you were pre-
sumably groping for the box which held my private
papers?” Forgetting her nervousness of him, her half
articulate sense of resentment, she poured out the story
of her doubts and apprehensions, mentioning the vari-
ous things which had led Varley and herself to the
conviction of his being a spy and their enemy.
“And it would have been so easy for you,” she cried
in conclusion, “to set all that at rest, in one line, in
one word!” She produced the letter from him which
Varley had handed her that afternoon upon her ar-
rival. “That was what ﬁnally convinced me that I had
made a hideous mistake,” said she reproachfully. “Oh,
Leonhardt, you cannot pretend that you did not with-
hold the truth on purpose—just to punish me, I sup-
pose, for being so dense!”
He rose from his knees, seated himself at her side,


’MAR 18 1940