Charred Wood Part 18

"Excellency?" Wratslav spoke with some anxiety.

"Yes?"

"Unfortunately, the Englishman is a person of some consequence in his own country."

"Indeed? One Griffin, is he not?"

"His brother is dead. He died last week. The Englishman is now Baron Griffin."

The fingers tightened around the ivory knife.

"That," the Minister's voice became softer and even more velvety, "_that_ is unfortunate." There was silence again. The knife was laid down, and the fingers moved slowly, heavily, on the desk. "Still, I think, Wratslav, that Ivan should continue to work on the railroad--and you also--while the excellent shooting continues near--ah--the camp.

It seems best."

The telephone on the desk tinkled. His Excellency picked up the receiver.

"Yes, someone will come down."

He hung up the receiver and turned to Wratslav.

"There is a telegram downstairs. Go down and get it and bring it here.

Hurry."

The secretary was back in a few moments with the envelope, which he handed to the Minister, who cut it open and read the message. The ivory knife snapped in the tense grip; His Excellency looked idly at the pieces, but never a line of his face moved.

"Matters are a trifle more complicated, Wratslav. We must think again." He handed the telegram to his a.s.sistant. It read:

"A British subject presents his compliments to Your Excellency, and begs to a.s.sure you that the statement which he has written and sent under seal to the British Amba.s.sador in Was.h.i.+ngton will not be opened or its contents made known to anyone except in the event of the sudden demise of Baron Griffin or James Saunders."

Wratslav returned the message to His Excellency and sat waiting. The slow thrumming was resumed. Then the Minister turned back to his desk, and his hand strayed to the papers on it.

"We may, perhaps, need both you and Ivan here in Was.h.i.+ngton for some time yet, Wratslav."

"Yes, Excellency."

The silence lasted a full minute.

"About the lady, Wratslav--" the Minister almost smiled; "it would be a great honor were she to visit the Ministry soon."

"Would she come, Excellency?"

The question was ignored.

"A very fast automobile could be used. It could be made quite comfortable, I think."

"If she made no outcry, Excellency. There is that danger--and of gossip also."

"That, too, might be arranged."

"But if she proves--"

"She will not--not if I announce, after receiving your telegram, that her arrival is momentarily expected--traveling incognito, you see--no fuss or receptions--but a short visit before sailing back to Europe.

Over there it has been given out that she is traveling, so they know nothing outside the court. The King is anxious." There was another flas.h.i.+ng look from the keen eyes before the slow, "He rewards well,"

spoken with meaning emphasis.

Wratslav answered the look. "I will try, Excellency."

"To try is not sufficient, Wratslav."

"I will do it, Excellency."

"That is better."

So it came to pa.s.s that the dapper young man called Wratslav, and the rough one called Ivan, left next day in a fast automobile whose limousine body seemed especially built to interfere as little as possible with its speed. Why it was kept constantly stored with provisions, and why it carried ropes and a tent of silk, no one of the workers in the camp knew; for none of them ever saw those things--or indeed ever saw the interior of the car at all.

CHAPTER XIII

THE ABDUCTION

Father Murray called at the hotel two days later and inquired for Mr.

Griffin. Mark was in his room and hastened down.

"I must apologize, Father," he began, "that you had to come for me. I should not have let such a thing happen. But I thought it best not to break in upon you after--" Mark stopped, deeply chagrined at having almost touched what must be a painful subject to the priest. "I--I--"

But Father Murray smiled indulgently.

"Don't, please, Mark. I am quite reconciled to that now. A few hours with my _Imitation_ heals all such wounds. Why, I am beginning to know its comforts by heart, like that one I inflicted on you the other day.

Here's my latest pet: 'What can be more free than he who desires nothing on earth?'"

"Fine--but a certain pagan was before your monk with that," said Mark.

"Wasn't it Diogenes who, asked by Alexander the Great to name a favor the emperor could bestow upon him, asked His Majesty to step out of the sunlight? Surely he had all the philosophy of your quotation?"

"He had," smiled back the priest; "but, as Mrs. O'Leary has the religion which includes the best of philosophy, so our a Kempis had more than Diogenes. Philosophy is good to argue one into self-regulation; but religion is better, because it first secures the virtue and then makes you happy in it. 'Unless a man be at liberty from all things created, he cannot freely attend to the things divine.'

It is the attending to things divine that really makes true liberty."

"Then," said Mark, "I am forgiven for my failure to call, for I left you free for the more important things."

Father Murray laughed. "You are quite a master in the art of making excuses, my dear Mark. You _are_ forgiven, so far as I am concerned.

But I am not the only one who has been neglected."

"That is true, Father. Won't you let me walk with you? I want to speak about a matter of importance."

So the friends walked along the main street of Siha.s.set and out toward the Bluff Road. Mark was silent for a long time, wondering how he could approach the subject. When he spoke he went directly to the point: