Becky felt a lump in her throat. "And the Count?" she said. "Does he know?"
Jim shook his head.
"He was looking very pale today," Becky went on. "Quite ill, in fact. Even Adelaide noticed. I'm sure he feels guilty about whatever it is."
Jim gnawed his lip. "The old fool. I thought we could trust him, at least. Listen, Becky, I'm... That morning back in St John's Wood, when the bomb went off ... I'm damned glad it was you. You've done a cracking job. But I wish you were a thousand miles away."
"Why?"
"Because things are getting dangerous. I'm thinking of your mother, I suppose. If anything happens to you, I won't forgive myself. How is she? Does she write to you?"
"Of course she writes. And I write to her, twice a week, great long letters. Wouldn't you?"
"My old ma wouldn't have been able to read anyway," he said. "She died when I was ten. Consumption. She was a washerwoman, up in Clerkenwell. It was my pa who taught me to read ... Dickens, mainly. He used to love All The Year Round; took it every week. I remember him taking me to one of Dickens's readings once, the great Inimitable himself giving out with Sikes murdering Nancy, sending shivers down our spines... What am I talking about this for? Your mother. That's right. So that's why I wish you were a thousand miles away. Listen, Becky, will you sleep in Adelaide's room tonight?"
"Well... All right."
"Just in case."
He got up, wandered to the window, and lifted the edge of the curtain aside to look out.
"Becky, how's this going to end?" he said with his back to her. "What are you going to do when the treaty business is signed and sealed?"
"Me? I want ... I want to go to university and study languages properly. But for the moment I just want to see that treaty signed tomorrow morning. It's been the most exciting thing in my life, Jim, you can't imagine what this means. My own country; and I'm at the very centre of things, of great important discussions - there's nothing that could ever be better than that!"
He shook his head. He was still looking out of the window.
"And what about you?" she said. "What do you want to do?"
"I want to fight, Becky. Can you understand that? I want struggle, I want danger. You know, Sally said something to me once: we were talking about happiness and what that might mean. She said she didn't want to be happy, that was a weak, passive sort of thing; she wanted to be alive and active. She wanted work. That's the spirit I like. That's what I want; and my work is a rough, dirty, dangerous kind of work. Oh, I want other things too. I want to write a play and see Henry Irving perform in it. I want to swank about town smoking Havanas and have supper with pretty girls in the Cafe Royal. I want to play poker on a Mississippi riverboat. I want to see Dan Goldberg get into Parliament. I want to see you go to university and get a first-class degree. As for Sally ... Sally can do anything she wants, by me. There's a whole world I want, Becky."
"You haven't mentioned Adelaide."
"No."
He looked in from the window. His green-blazing eyes and tousled straw-coloured hair gave him the look of some electrical spirit, charged with urgent forces. Then she realized that his attention was focused on something outside the room, and as she listened she heard it too: the sound of hurrying footsteps in the corridor, followed by a swift tap at the door.
"Come in," she said, sitting up.
A maidservant, looking anxious, opened the door.
"I'm sorry, Fraulein," she said. "A message for..."
Embarrassed at Becky's state of undress, the maid looked at Jim, and handed him a note.
"Thanks," he said, and she bobbed and went out.
He unfolded the note, read it swiftly, and tossed it into the fire and stood up.
"Time to go," he said.
"What are you going to do?"
"Fight, of course!"
And he bent to kiss her swiftly on the cheek. She felt a flash of some complicated mixture of emotions: How dare he? was part of it, and so was envy of the clarity of his task, the beautiful instinctive energy with which he leapt to it; and so was a shiver of fear. All her daydreams of piracy and brigandage suddenly seemed childish and tawdry. Jim was real.
She stood up and followed him to the door. He was pressing something into her hand. It was a pistol.
"Go and sleep in Adelaide's room," he said. "And keep this hidden. If you have to use it, hold it in both hands and be prepared for the kick. I'll see you later."
And he was gone, running lightly down the corridor. The maid was still in sight. Becky concealed the pistol under her dressing-gown and summoned her.
"Is Her Majesty back from the Opera?"
"Yes, Fraulein. They are all back except Count Thalgau."
"Except... But why? Where is the Count?"
"I couldn't say, Fraulein. He didn't come back with the rest of the party. That's all I know. Will that be all, Fraulein?"
"Yes, Ilse. Thank you. That's all..."
She watched the maid go, and went back into her own room with a racing heart to gather what she needed for the night.
Karl and a dozen others, together with Carmen Ruiz, were waiting in the ruined chapel above the entrance to the grotto. They were all wearing dark clothes, as Jim asked them to; the heavy sky let no moonlight through, and all he could see was the blur of pale faces in the gloom. Anton had been detailed to keep a special eye on Carmen Ruiz, and Jim saw him now, standing warily a foot or so behind her.
"Good evening, Senora," he said softly, and she inclined her head. "All quiet?" he whispered to Karl.
"Not a sound. No - that's not quite true - you can hear him crying out from under the earth, like a troll or something. Hansi's guarding the trapdoor at the top with his group."
Jim had found the top of the steps, concealed among bushes in the little copse where he'd first heard the scream.
"All set then?"
"All set. We'll leave Jan in the mouth of the grotto with three others to guard our backs."
Jim nodded. "Good. There's a boat hidden in the rushes down there - we'll take that and bring him out in it. He's too weak to walk far. And then to the forest, and away."
He shook hands all around, they wished each other luck, and the dozen shadowy figures set off with him down the slope towards the grotto. The air was still tonight, there was no lashing wind among the trees, and as they reached the foot of the slope Jim could hear the ripples of the river. A bird called far off in the forest, a high distant scream, and a small animal splashed softly as it entered the water.
They stopped to let Jan and his three move on ahead into the mouth of the grotto, and Jim felt among the rushes for the painter of the boat.
Karl, Anton and the woman got in, and Jim led the rest along the path and into the profound darkness of the grotto itself. He had drilled everyone to keep close to the right-hand wall; they had lanterns, but they were for using on the way out.
"Good luck, my boy," Jim whispered into the darkness once they were inside the mouth. "If you need to, yell at the top of your voice."
"With pleasure," came back Jan's whisper.
The long, cold, silent walk through the enfolding darkness was no less unpleasant now that Jim had companions and a known goal. The constant drip of water, the clammy air, the slime on the rock under his hand, the continual apprehension about projecting rocks at head-height were just as oppressive as before. Occasionally a soft knock or bump from the water to his left told him that Karl hadn't succeeded in keeping the boat clear of the wall, but the sound wasn't loud enough to carry, and it was reassuring to know how close he was.
Finally Jim stopped. There was the faintest of gleams on the wet rock ahead. He put out a hand and stopped the man behind him.
"Careful now," he whispered. "Nearly there."
Since they didn't know how the dungeon was guarded, they were going to have to improvise when they got there; the second essential thing was to give Jim enough time and room to work at the padlock. The first essential thing, of course,
was surprise.
Jim took out his pistol. Eyes fixed on the gleam on the rock, he moved ahead more slowly, beckoning the others on behind.
Coming out of the dark, they had the advantage that the scene they found around the corner seemed well lit. Jim, reaching it first, took in at a glance the flickering lantern on a hook, the little table, the pair of soldiers, the greasy cards, the huddled figure behind the bars.
He walked up quietly and said, "Sit quite still and put your hands on the table."
The soldiers both jumped in shock, and exclaimed so loudly that they woke the man in the dungeon, who sat up at once and cried in fear. The other students were hurrying up; Karl was helping Carmen Ruiz out of the boat while Anton held it steady, and then she flung herself at the bars, calling the Prince's name passionately. He cowered away.
"Don't move," said Jim to the soldiers. "Don't make a noise. Don't do anything. Karl, take my pistol and keep them covered."
Another student moved the rifles out of reach of the two soldiers, who sat white-faced and open-mouthed, one twisting to stare over his shoulder at Jim, who was already busy at work on the lock.
"Please, Senora," said Anton, "move aside a little, let him work..."
"What have you done to him?" she cried suddenly, and turned like a tigress to the soldiers, who flinched. The students could see that the Prince's face was bruised and swollen. "Who has hurt him? Who dared do that?"
"Senora!" Anton said sharply. "We'll get him out in a minute. They'll be punished, don't worry about that."
"Nearly there," muttered Jim, twisting, prodding, bending his wire and prodding again. "Nice new lock. Oily. Just as I like -"
And then there was the sound of a shot from behind them.
It was muffled and magnified by the echoing tunnel, but it was unmistakable; and then there was another, and Jan's voice, shouting. Heads snapped round, eyes widened. The woman fell still.
Into the shocked moment Karl said, "Heini, take three men and run back to help Jan. Peter, take a light and run along the other way till you find the steps. Wait for us there."
Jim didn't look up once. While the others did as they were ordered, he calmly withdrew the wire from the lock, looked at it carefully, bent it a little more, and slid it back in. More shots came from behind. Prince Leopold was cowering in the corner, clutching a blanket and whimpering like a beaten dog.
Jim murmured quietly, "Take it easy, mate. Another little tweak and we'll have you out. Go and climb the stairs, eh?"
He coaxed and spoke softly, and little by little the man shuffled forward. More gunshots thundered, and more closely. Shouts echoed down the tunnel.
The padlock sprang open. Jim said, "Prince, you're going to have to come. It's your duty. Come on now."
Beside him, Carmen Ruiz was quivering.
"Come, Leo!" she murmured. "Come on, my Prince!"
He came to the door and glanced fearfully down the tunnel, where someone was shouting orders, and where the pounding of feet echoed louder and louder.
Jim seized the Prince and pulled him out; no time for delicacy now. Dragging the man between him and Carmen, he shoved past the two terrified soldiers and on to where Karl was beckoning urgently at the foot of the steps. Another student, holding a lantern, stood beside him peering anxiously up.
"They're nearly here -" someone said from behind, but then there came the explosion of a shot from above, immensely loud, and a cry; and the tumbling sound of a body falling.
"Watch out!" said Karl, and Hans fell out of the darkness to the foot of the steps, dead.
"Run!" came a despairing cry from above. "Run! They've trapped us -"
The boat, unnoticed, was drifting past. Out of the corner of his eye Jim saw the woman seize the rope and pull it to the bank, and leap in, dragging the Prince with her by his shirt. Leopold fell with a cry to the edge of the bank, and then the frail cotton tore, leaving him sprawling and scrabbling for a hold on the slippery rock. Anton bent down and heaved him back, and the last they saw of the woman was her white face, mouth open in a silent scream of loss, and her pale hands reaching back; and then the current, much faster here, swept her away into the darkness.
Jim cursed.
"Bring the Prince!" he shouted, and sprang for the steps. If he could fight his way through, the others might be able to get Leopold away. Pistol held high, he leapt up the narrow steps three at a time, and butted his head into the midriff of the first man he saw.
The soldier fell with a heavy grunt. Jim leapt over him and grabbed for the side of the trapdoor, which showed as a dark edge against the scarcely lighter sky. A body lay across the gap; he heaved it aside and then something struck him hard on the head.
Dazed, he fell and rolled aside into the cold, wet grass. Shouts, the glow of lanterns, running feet; and then he was up, crouching, firing at the blaze and bang of gunshots around him in the dark, diving aside and rolling over to come up a few yards away and fire again; and at the edge of his sight, he was aware of the pale figure of the Prince in his torn white shirt being dragged out of the trapdoor by two figures, who might have been Anton and Karl.
"Run!" he shouted. "Run!"
But there were more shouts, heavy figures crashing into him, bearing him to the ground, and another sickening blow to the head; and the last thing he thought was, Who betrayed us? Count, if it was...
Chapter Fifteen
SAUCEPAN
Becky woke up, stiff and cold, on the little sofa at the foot of Adelaide's bed. Her Majesty was still asleep. As Becky stretched and yawned she dislodged the pistol under the cushion at her head, so that it fell to the floor with a thud, and Adelaide opened her eyes at once.
"Who's that?"
"It's me," said Becky, retrieving the pistol and hiding it again.
"Why? What are you doing here?"
"I - Jim told me to come up and guard you in case - oh, I don't know. Did you know you snore, Your Majesty?"
Adelaide, sleepy-eyed among deep pillows, cast her a look of contempt and closed her eyes again.
"Where's me soldiers?" she muttered. "Why aren't they guarding me? What's the use of you doing it?"
Becky was about to reply when there came a knock at the door, and Adelaide's maid came in and curtsied, blinking with surprise as she saw Becky. She was carrying a breakfast tray.
"Good morning, Your Majesty," the girl said. "Good morning, Fraulein..."
Adelaide grunted as the maid threw open the shutters and crouched to stir the fire. Within a minute she had it burning up brightly. Adelaide's black kitten woke among the folds of the eiderdown, and showed his pink needle-filled mouth in a wide yawn.
"Come here, Saucepan," said Adelaide, and lifted the soft little thing up to her face to kiss while the maid arranged the pillows more comfortably.
"It's a cloudy day, Your Majesty," said the maid. "I think it's going to snow. Was there anything else?"
"No. What's the time? Never mind. Fraulein Winter will tell me. You can run the bath, that's what you can do. Got to look posh today," she said to Becky. "And you have to, as well. Sleeping on sofas - you'll get a stiff neck. You'll be standing there behind me looking like an umbrella handle. What's Jim on about?"
From behind the closed bathroom door came the sound of water splashing into the tub. Becky lifted the breakfast tray on to Adelaide's lap and sat on the bed to be able to talk quietly.
"I haven't been able to tell you before. I didn't want to distract you. But the night before the Talks began, I was out on the terrace with Jim, and we saw a woman talking to one of the servants..."
Adelaide had put the kitten down on the tray, and was lifting the lid of the butter-dish for it.
"I'm listening," she said. "You saw a woman with one of the servants. Who was that then?"
"A woman who turned out to be the wife of Prince Rudolf's eldest brother, Leopold."
"King Rudolf. He was King." Adelaide, a stickler now for precedence and etiquette, except where Saucepan was concerned, was but
tering a roll, in between little kitten-paw dabs. "And you said wife. You mean widow."
"No.Wife. Because Jim's discovered that Leopold is still alive."
Adelaide, suddenly pale, dipped a silver spoon into the apricot jam. Saucepan was lapping at the cream. Adelaide's hand moved more and more slowly as Becky told her what Jim had found out.
"And where's Jim now?" she said when Becky had finished.
"They were going to rescue him from the grotto. He and the students--"
They both stopped, Becky in mid-sentence, Adelaide with the roll halfway to her mouth. The kitten had given a little cough, then a racked, choking cry, and stumbled clumsily on to its nose. Unable to move, they watched it gasp and kick at itself in a spasm of pain, and then, with a little soft miaow, thrash over on to its back, curling, twitching, and die.
Beyond the door, the splashing water stopped. The handle turned; the maid came in, bobbed, and said, "The bath is ready, Your Majesty. Shall I lay out the silk, or..."
But before she could finish, the door burst open, and there stood Countess Thalgau. The maid's head turned in astonishment. The Countess, wide-eyed and pale, saw her and, distracted, waved her out. The maid bobbed swiftly to Adelaide and fled, and the next moment the Countess was at the bedside.
Neither Becky nor Adelaide had moved a muscle. The Countess was breathing heavily; she was still in her dressing-gown and her grey hair was disordered.
"Oh - thank God -" she said, and took the roll from Adelaide's fingers.
Then she saw the kitten. Her eyes lost focus and she swayed. Becky leapt up and helped her to a chair.
"What - is - going - on?" said Adelaide in a dangerous voice.
Becky had never seen the Countess like this. Her normal glare of icy disapproval was melted; she was weeping openly now, and she couldn't sit still. She pushed up from the chair and lifted the breakfast tray off Adelaide's lap and carried it to the far end of the room, putting it down in the furthest corner from the bed as if its very presence were toxic.