The Traitors Part 13

Brand's gratification at the prospect was certainly not apparent.

However, he closed his eyes, and relapsed into thought. Two hours! He reckoned it all out. His knowledge of the geography of the country was slight, but it seemed to him impossible that Prince Ughtred and Reist could yet have reached the capital. So far all that he had done had been good. The difficulty which confronted him now was to select the proper moment for his avowal, and, having made it, to escape. He foresaw difficulties. Domiloff was not a man to be made a fool of lightly. His one comforting reflection was that when the explosion did come he would be safer in Theos than in a frontier town which was obviously under Russian influence.

Slowly the train wound its way across a rocky and difficult country, a country of mountains, woods, and rivers, valleys rich with corn-tracts, tiny villages whose gleaming white homesteads made picturesque many a hillside. Brand sat quite still with half-closed eyes. Presently the door of the saloon opened, and closed again softly. Domiloff looked in and withdrew. Then there came the sound of voices from the next compartment. Listening intently, Bland caught a word or two here and there.

"Absolutely impossible.... I saw him in Paris after the Algerian campaign ... thinner, that is all.... Reist and the English journalist were simply left ... _plante la_. Hernoff planned everything."

"Mistakes.... He does not make mistakes. If I believed it I would shoot him like a dog. You have your revolver, too. Good! Oh, yes, he will sign! It will be a record reign. It may last a month. They will see that he is under the thumb of Russia. No, he is fast asleep. After Hernoff's medicine one is sleepy for days."

The voices died away. They pa.s.sed through a little wayside station gay with flags, and the train began to descend a series of gradients.

Below was a great fruitful plain, bounded southwards by a range of towering mountains. Far away westwards was a huge ascent to a wide-spreading table-land. Brand sat with his eyes fixed steadily upon it, and a queer little smile upon his lips. He was sufficiently aware of his surroundings to know that there was the fortress capital of Theos.

He heard footsteps, and closed his eyes again. Domiloff entered the saloon, and shook him by the arm. He awoke with a drowsy murmur.

"Wake up, your Highness! We are within a few miles of the capital."

Brand sat up.

"All right," he said. "I am ready. But how my head aches."

Domiloff smiled grimly, and thrust a sheet of paper into his hand.

"It will pa.s.s off," he said. "See, this is your speech. Learn it. It will not be wise for you to address the people in any save their own language."

Brand took the sheet of unintelligible characters into his own hand.

He looked blankly at it.

"Read it to me," he said. "Let me hear how it sounds."

Domiloff declaimed and translated it. Brand listened thoughtfully.

Apparently the return of Ughtred of Tyrnaus to the throne of his forefathers was solely owing to a benevolent desire on the part of Russia to bring to Theos an era of unparalleled peace and prosperity.

Far away a gleam of white and grey towers flashed upon the hillside.

Villages became more plentiful. They were nearing the capital.

CHAPTER XII

Once more the men and women of Theos thronged the streets of their time-worn capital. A thousand torches flared in the open s.p.a.ce before the palace. Lanterns and flags waved from all the princ.i.p.al houses and public buildings. Only the great Reist mansion was silent and gloomy, and many questioning eyes were turned towards it.

"It was the Duke himself who has brought Ughtred of Tyrnaus here,"

muttered one. "Yet his house is dark and empty, and no man has seen him."

"There is something strange about it," said another, "and I like not the wolf Domiloff at the shoulder of a Tyrnaus."

"Please G.o.d, the son may not be like the father!"

"Let us see him," cried another. "Come--shout!"

So the air shook with the roar of voices, and servants in the blue Tyrnaus livery came out upon the balcony of the brilliantly-lit palace and spread a carpet. But the man whom they longed to see lingered.

Domiloff argued with him in vain. He was unaccountably obstinate.

"It is the Duke of Reist who should stand by my side when first I speak to my people," he declared, coolly. "It is he who brought me from England, not you. He must be my sponsor. If he is not here I will wait."

Domiloff was naturally furious. He had been at considerable pains to insure the absence of Reist from the capital on this occasion, and his inopportune return would amount to a disaster. On the other hand, the populace were fast working themselves up into a state of frenzy. Let this man show himself, and the success of his coup was a.s.sured. It was unpardonable hesitation. He trembled with rage. In the King's palace, in his own chamber, he had lost for the moment his hold upon this man.

It was the one weak spot in his carefully thought-out scheme. It was the one contingency against which he was comparatively helpless.

"You are losing a golden opportunity, Prince," he declared. "Your hesitation is a crime. The people are on fire to see you. They will shout you King with one voice. Give to Reist all the glory if you will, but, if you would win your kingdom, out on to the balcony and show yourself. Hear them!"

The roar of voices sounded like thunder from the street below. Brand smoked on stolidly.

"I shall wait one hour for the Duke of Reist," he decided. "At the end of that time, if he has not arrived, I will reconsider the matter."

Domiloff, who did not expect the Duke of Reist in an hour, was forced to acquiesce.

"I will send messengers out amongst the people," he said. "I will let them know that you are worn out with travelling, but that in an hour you will address them. Shall it be so?"

"You can do as you like," Brand answered, quietly. "I make no promises."

Domiloff withdrew, furious. Brand was left alone. He was a journalist of the modern type, and he had been in a good many tight corners. His nerves were of iron, his courage indomitable, and his sense of humour prodigious. But this was getting beyond a joke. He was in a _cul-de-sac_. Escape was scarcely to be hoped for, disclosure would certainly cost him his life. Nevertheless, as the roar of voices mounted again to his ears the corners of his mouth twitched and his eyes shone with laughter. He found himself longing for pen and paper, wondering how much of this he dare use as copy. Then the clock struck.

He became instantly grave. After all, an hour was a short time. He concentrated his thoughts once more upon the situation.

On one point he was resolved. He would not carry his personation any further. He would not present himself to the people of Theos as an impostor, with Domiloff for his introducer, and unable to frame a single sentence in the language of his supposed forefathers. The speech which Domiloff had written out for him was, of course, an impossibility. Some time to-night the Prince and Reist must surely arrive, and the situation then might become possible. Failing that, he could see nothing but chaos.

Half-an-hour had pa.s.sed, but he was not greatly disturbed. He had a touch of that beautiful faith which is the heritage of the born adventurer. He was content to wait for something to turn up. He threw away the end of his cigar and walked slowly up and down the great vaulted room. The ceiling was of extraordinary height, and the wooden panels which covered the walls were black with age and beautifully carved. He paused before one of them to examine the design, and pa.s.sed his fingers lightly over the figure of a priest who knelt by the side of a wounded man in armour. It was a rugged but wonderful representation. Suddenly he started back as though he had been shot.

The priest was being split down the middle before his eyes.

He stood rigid. Even his nerves were scarcely proof against this sort of thing. The head of the wounded knight had parted from his body, and the legs of the priest were every moment drawing further apart. He approached the panel gingerly. It was not fancy. There was a long, thin crack from the floor to the tapestry border, which stood about six feet high. Whilst he watched, it widened. He slipped his hand into his pocket and drew out his revolver.

From one inch to two--to half a foot, and then wide open, the panel slid back. Brand uttered a soft cry of amazement. A woman, dark, slender, and beautiful, stood upon the threshold of what seemed to be a pa.s.sage, herself almost as motionless as a painted figure. Her eyes met his with a challenging light, her pose was imperious. Diamonds flashed from her neck and bosom, and her hair was coiled upon her head coronet-like, after the manner of the women of Theos. Her black gown was cut in a manner unknown to western dressmakers--to Brand she seemed like a wonderful Italian picture of the middle ages stepped bodily from its frame. He lowered his revolver, and took a quick step backward. Then to his surprise, she spoke to him in English, haltingly, but with perfect distinctness.

"Lock the door."

The sound of his native language made a new man of Brand. His senses were no longer dazed.

"It is--already locked," he answered.

She took a step forward, and before he could divine her purpose sank gently on one knee in a wonderful courtesy. He took the slim white hand, and bowed low over it.

"You are Ughtred of Tyrnaus?" she said, eagerly. "Is it not so?"

He laughed quietly.

"It is the first time," he said, "that I have been asked the question.

Personation seems to come natural to me."

She looked at him intently, and the fine, dark eyebrows were drawn a little closer together.