The Courtship of Morrice Buckler: A Romance

  CHAPTER V.

  I JOURNEY TO THE TYROL AND HAVE SOME DISCOURSE WITH COUNT LUKSTEIN.

  Dew jewelling the grasses in the fields, the chatter of birds amongthe trees, a sparkling freshness in the air, and before me the road,running white into the gold of the rising sun. But behind! On the topof St. Michael's hill, outlined black against the pearly western sky,rose the gaunt cross-trees of the gallows. 'Twas the last glimpse Ihad of Bristol, and I lingered as one horribly fascinated until thepicture was embedded in my heart.

  In London I tarried but so long as sufficed for me to repair thedeficiencies of my dress, since my very linen was now become unsightlyand foul, and, riding to Gravesend, took ship for Rotterdam.

  I had determined to join Larke with me in my undertaking, for Ibethought me of his craving for strange paths and adventures, andhoped to discover in him a readiness of wit which would counteract myown scrupulous hesitancy. For this I implicitly believed: that it wasnot so much the wariness that Julian bespoke which would procuresuccess, as the instinct of opportunity, the power, I mean, at once tograsp the fitting occasion when it presented, and to predispose one'smovements in the way best calculated to bring about its presentment.In this quality I knew myself to be deficient. 'Twas ever mymisfortune to confuse the by-ways with the high-road. I would wastethe vital moment in deliberation as to which was shortest, and alas!the path I chose in the end more often than not turned out to be a_cul-de-sac_.

  In the particular business in which I was engaged such overweeningprudence would be like to nullify my purpose, and further, destroyboth Jack and myself. For beyond a description of Count Lukstein'sperson which I had from Julian some while ago, I knew nothing but whathe had told me in the prison; and that knowledge was too scanty toserve as the foundation for even the flimsiest plan. The region, theCastle, the aggregate of servants, and their manner of life--itbehoved me to have certain information on all these particulars were Ito prearrange a mode of attack. As things were, I must needs lie inambush for chance, and seize it with all speed when it passed our way.

  At Leyden I found Jack, very glum and melancholy, poring over a folioof Shakespeare. 'Twas the single author whom he favoured, and he readhis works with perpetual interest and delight. "This is the book ofdeeds," he would say, smacking a fist upon the cover. "There is butone bad play in it, and that is the tragedy of _Hamlet_. The goodPrince is too speculative a personage."

  "You reached Bristol in time?" he asked, springing up as I entered theroom.

  "In time; but not a moment too soon," I replied, and sat mum.

  "Then Sir Julian Harnwood is safe?"

  "No! There was never a hope of that."

  The old smile, half amusement, half contempt, flashed upon his lips;the old envy looked out from his eyes. I, of course, had bungled wherea man of vigour might have accomplished.

  "It was not for that end that he sent for me," I hastened to add, andthen I stuck. I had determined to relate to Jack forthwith the storyof my mission, and to engage his assistance, but the actual sight ofhim overturned my intentions. I felt tongue-tied; I dared not tell himlest my resolution should trickle away in the telling; for I read uponhis face his poor estimation of my powers, and I dreaded the ridiculeof his comments upon my unfitness for the task to which I had set myhand. I had sufficient doubts of my own upon that score. Indeed, sinceI had entered the room, they had buzzed about me importunate as acloud of gnats; for Larke had never been sparing of his homilies uponmy incapacity. I think every article I possessed, at one time oranother, had been twisted into a text for them; and now they all cameflocking back to me, as my eyes ranged over the familiar objects theyhad been based upon. They seemed, in truth, to saturate the very air.

  Hence, I confided to Larke no more than the fact of our journey intothe Tyrol; its reason and purpose I kept secret to myself. And to thisself-distrust, trivial matter though it was, I owed my subsequentmisfortunes. It was the first link in the chain of disaster, and Iforged it myself unwittingly.

  "Jack," said I, "you were ever fond of adventures. One lies at yourdoor."

  "Of what kind?" he asked.

  "A journey into the Tyrol."

  "For what purpose?"

  "I cannot tell you. You must trust me if you come."

  He looked at me doubtfully.

  "Your life will be risked," I urged; "I can gratify you so far."

  He closed the Shakespeare with a bang.

  "When do we start?"

  "As soon as ever we are prepared. To-morrow."

  "'Twere a pity to waste a day."

  I assured him that so far from wasting it, we should have much ado toget off even the next morning. For there were a couple of stout horsesto be purchased, besides numberless other arrangements to be made. Thehorses we bought of a dealer in the Rapenburg, and then, enlisting thefencing-master to aid us, we sought the shop of an armourer in theHout-Straat. From him we bought a long sword and a brace of pistolseach, whereupon Larke declared that we were equipped cap-a-pie, andloudly protested against further hindrance. I insisted, however, inadding a pair of long cloaks of a heavier cloth than any we possessed,and divers other warm garments. For we were now in the last days ofSeptember, and I knew that winter comes apace in upland countries likethe Tyrol. Then there were maps to be procured, and a route to bepricked out, so that it was late in the evening before we hadcompleted our preparations.

  Meanwhile I inquired of Larke how it had fared with Swasfield. Itappeared that it was not until some hours after I had ridden off thatthe man regained his senses, and then he was still too weak to amplifyhis tidings; in fact, he had only recovered sufficiently to departfrom Leyden two days before I returned. Doubtless to some extent hisconvalescence was retarded by grief for that he had not fulfilled hiserrand. For he was ever lamenting the omission of his message, andmore particularly of that portion which referred to the road betweenBristol and London. For swift horses had been stabled at intervals offifteen miles along the whole stretch, and in order to make sure thatno one but myself should have the profit of them, as Swasfield said,or rather, as I think, in order that my name might not transpire ifCount Lukstein's spies were watching the road and became suspicious atthis posting of relays, it was arranged that they should be deliveredonly to the man who passed the word "Wastwater," that being the nameof the lake in Cumberland on which my lands abutted.

  Of our journey into the Tyrol I have but faint recollections. We setoff the next morning with no more impediments than we could carry invalises fixed upon our saddles. Even Udal, my body-servant, I leftbehind, for he had neither liking nor aptitude for foreign tongues, afew scraps of French and a meagre knowledge of Dutch forced on him byhis residence in the country, being all that he possessed. He would,therefore, have only hindered our progress, and, besides, I had nogreat faith in his discretion. I was minded, accordingly, to securesome foreigner in Strasbourg who would think we were engaged upon atour of pleasure; which I did, and dismissed him at Innspruck.

  For the rest I rode with little attention or regard for the provincesthrough which we passed. The very cities wherein we slept seemed thecities of a dream, so that now I am like one who strives to piecetogether memories of a journey taken in early childhood. An alley oftrees recurs to me, the shine of stars in a midnight sky, or, again,the comfortable figure of a Boniface; but the images are confused andvoid of suggestion, for I rode eyes shut and hands clenched, as acoward rides in the press of battle.

  At times, indeed, when we halted, I would turn industriously to myHorace. The book had fallen open at the Palinodia when I dropped it inthe prison, so that Julian's sketch was on the page opposite to thedate September 14. I append here the diagram which was to enable me tofind an entrance into the Castle, and it will be seen that I had muchexcuse for studying it. In truth, I could make neither head nor tailof its signification.

  Outline of Lukstein Castle]

  'Twas ever this outline of Lukstein Castle that
I pondered, thoughJack knew it not, and when he beheld the book in my hands would gazeat me with a troubled look of distrust. On the instant I would fallmiserably to taking count of myself. "Here are you," I would object tomyself, "a bookish student of a mean stature and a dilatory mind. Youhave faced no weapon more deadly than a buttoned foil, and you wouldcompel a man of great strength and indubitable cunning to a mortalencounter in the privacy of his own house, that is, supposing you arenot previously done to death by his serfs, which is most like tohappen." Then would my courage, a very ricketty bantling, make weakprotest: "You faced a blunderbuss and a volley of slugs, and you werenot afraid." "But," I would answer hotly, "you did not face them, youwere running away. Besides, you had called your assailant a potatoe,and therefore had already a contempt for him. This time it is you whowill be the potatoe, as you will most surely discover when CountLukstein spits you on his skewer;" and so I would get me wretchedly tobed.

  There were, indeed, but two thoughts which served to console me. Inthe first place, I was sensible that I had acquired some dexteritywith the foils, and if I could but imagine a button on the point ofthe Count's sword I might hope to hold my own. In the second, Iremembered very clearly a remark of Julian's. "The man's a coward," hehad said, and I hugged the sentence to my breast. I repeated thewords, indeed, until they fell into the cadence of a rhythm and lostall meaning and comfort for me, sounding hollow, like the tapping ofan empty nut.

  Of what Larke suffered during that period I had no suspicion, but fromsubsequent hints I gather that his distress, though based upon farother grounds, was no whit inferior to my own. His behaviour, indeed,when I came to consider it, revealed to me new and amiable aspects ofhis character; for while he firmly disbelieved in my ability tocaptain an expedition, he never once pestered me for an explanation. Ihad entrusted the purse to his care, and at each town he made thearrangements for our stay, looked after the welfare of our horses, andin short, took modestly upon himself the troublesome conduct of ourtravels. Knowing nothing of my purpose but its danger, and distrustfulof its achievement, he yet rode patiently forward, humming ever aFrench song, of which the refrain ran, I remember:

  Que toutes joies et toutes honneurs Viennent d'armes et d'amours.

  For he possessed that delicate gift of sympathy which keeps the friendsilent when the acquaintance multiplies his questions.

  Thus we journeyed for over a month. It was, I fancy, on the 12thNovember that we reached the town of Innspruck, the weather veryshrewd and bitter, for snow had fallen in great quantities, and acutting wind blew from the hills. That night I told my companion ofour destination, but disclosed no more of the business than that I hada private message for Count Lukstein's ear, which must needs bedelivered secretly if we were to save our lives. We stayed here fortwo days that we might rest our horses, and early on the 14th set offfor Glurns, which lay some eighty miles away in a broad valley theycalled the Vintschgau. The snow, however, was massed very deep, andthough the road was sound, for it was the highway into Italy, we didnot come up with the village until two o'clock on the third afternoon.Beyond Glurns the road traversed the valley in a diagonal line througha dreary avenue of stunted limes, which in their naked leaflessnesslooked in the distance like a palisade. Into this avenue we passed,and were well-nigh across the dale and under its northern barrier ofmountains, when Larke suddenly reined up.

  "'Childe Roland to the dark tower came,'" he sang out. "Heaven sendthere be no one to complete the quotation!"

  I followed the direction of his gaze. Right ahead of us the Castle,the rock whereon it was pinnacled, and the village, huddled on alittle plateau at its base, stood out from the hillside like a blackstain upon the snow. A carriage-way, diverging from our road a hundredyards farther on, ran up towards it in long zigzags, and to this pointwe advanced.

  "Look!" suddenly cried Larke. "We are not the first to visit theworthy Count to-day."

  From both directions carriages or sledges had turned into this track,so that the snow at its entrance was trampled by the hoofs of horses,and cut by intersecting curves.

  "'Tis not certain," I said, "that the marks were made to-day."

  "It is," he replied, "else would the ruts have frozen."

  The thought that the Count had company doubled my disquiet. For therewas the less chance of finding him alone, and I was anxious to havedone with the matter.

  The first angle made by the zigzags was thickly covered with a boskageof pines. Into this we led our horses, and fastening them in the heartof it where the trees were most dense, we crept towards the westcorner. At this point the track bent back upon itself and mountedeastwards to the border of the village, turned again, threading thehouses at the bottom of the cliff, struck up thence at a right anglein a clear, open stretch beneath the west face of the rock, andfinally curved round at the back to the gates. For the entrance to theCastle fronted the hillside and not the valley.

  I took my Horace from my pocket, and in an instant the diagram becameintelligible to me. The long curving line represented the road, andthe way of ascent, marked by the cross, was to be found on the westernwall of rock, and above the open stretch of road. Of this we nowcommanded an unimpeded view, for the corner of the road at which westood was situate to the west of the Castle.

  "I see it!" I exclaimed, and I handed the book to Larke.

  "So this is the secret of the poet's fascination," he answered. "But Isee no path. The cliff is as smooth as an egg-shell, save for that oneprojecting rib."

  "That is the path," I replied.

  A shoulder of rock with a ribbon of snow upon its ridge jutted outfrom the summit of the cliff, and descended in an unbroken line to theroad.

  "'Tis impossible to ascend that," said he. "We should break our necksfor a surety or ever we were half-way up."

  "It shows steeper than it is," I answered. "We are not well-placed forjudging of its incline; for that we should see it in profile. Butwhere snow lies, there a man may climb."

  Jack raised no further objection; but ever and again I noticed himgazing at me with a puzzled expression upon his face. We crouched downin the undergrowth until such time as the night should fall, blowingon our fingers and pressing close against each other for warmth'ssake. But 'twas of little use; my body tingled with cold, and I beganto think my muscles would be frozen stiff, before the darkness gave usleave to move. The valley, moreover, looked singularly mournful anddesolate in its shroud of white. As far as the eye could travel not aliving thing could be seen, nor could the ear detect a sound. Theregion brooded in a sinister silence. I verily believe that I shouldhave loosed my horse and fled but for the presence of my companion.

  Jack, however, was in no higher spirits than myself, and from thecontinual glances of his eyes I think that he was infected with awholesome fear of the rib of rock. At last the dusk fell; the lightsbegan to twinkle in the village and in the upper windows of theCastle. For a wall, broken here and there by round turrets, circledabout the edge of the cliff and hid the lower storey from our sight.

  We looked to the priming of our pistols, buckled our swords tighterabout the waist, shook the snow from our cloaks, and cautiouslystepped out on to the path. At the edge of the village we stopped.'Twas but one street; but that very narrow and busy. Not a momentpassed but a door opened, and a panel of orange light was thrownacross the gloom, and the figures of men and women were seen passingand repassing. The village was astir and humming like a hive. Butthere was no other way. For on our right rose the tooth of rock in asheer scarp; on our left the ground broke steeply away at the backs ofthe houses.

  "We must make a dash for it," said Larke. We waited until the streetcleared for a moment, and then ran between the houses as fast as ourlegs would carry us. The snow deadened the sound of our feet, and wewere well-nigh through the village when Larke tripped over a hillockand stumbled forward on his face with a curse. The next instant Idropped down beside him, and covering his mouth with my hand, forcedhim prone to the ground. For barely
twenty feet ahead a door hadsuddenly opened, and a man dressed in the jacket and short breeches ofthe Tyroler came out on to the path. He stood with his back towards usand exchanged some jest with the inmates of the house, and Irecognised his voice. I had heard it no more than once, it is true,but the occasion had fixed the sound of it for ever in my memories. Itwas the voice of the spy who had tracked us in the streets of Bristol.He turned towards the door, so that the light streamed full upon hisface, shouted a "God be with you," and strode off in the direction ofthe Castle. The sight of him left me no room for doubt. That he hadoutstripped us caused me, indeed, little surprise, for we hadtravelled by a devious way, and had, moreover, delayed here and thereupon the road.

  Larke commenced to sputter and cough.

  "Quiet!" I whispered, for the man was yet within hearing.

  "Loose your hand, then!" he returned. "Tis easy enough to say quiet,but 'tis not so easy to choke quietly."

  In my fluster I was holding his head tightly pressed into the snow, sothat he could only have caught the barest glimpse of the man.

  "Who was it?" he asked.

  "One of Lukstein's servants."

  "You know him?"

  "I have seen him, and he has seen me. Maybe he would know me again."

  We got safely quit of the houses and turned into the upward stretch ofroad, towards the buttress of rock. It jutted out across our path, andwas plainly distinguishable, for the night was pure and clean, andappeared to be tinctured with a vague light from the snow-fields. Inoticed, too, that on the far side of the valley a pale radiance waswelling over the brim of the hills with promise of the moon. 'Twas avery sweet sight to me, since climbing an unknown rock-ridge in thedark hath little to commend it, unless it be necessity.

  At the foot of the rib we halted and prepared to ascend. But nowherecould I find a cranny for my fingers or a knob for my boot. Thesurface was indeed, as Jack had said, as smooth as an egg-shell. Istepped back to the outer edge of the road and examined it asthoroughly as was possible.

  For the first twelve feet it was absolutely perpendicular; above thatpoint it began to slope. It was as though the lowest portion of therib had been cut purposely away.

  And then I remembered! Julian had spoken only of a descent. Now a manmay drop twelve feet and come to no harm, but once at the bottom hemust bide there. There was but one way out of the difficulty, andluckily Larke's shoulders were broad.

  "You must lend me your back," I said. "I will haul you up after me."

  He planted himself firmly against the rock, with his legs apart, and Iclimbed up his back on to his shoulders.

  "You teach me mercy to my horse," he said quietly.

  "Why? What have I done?" I asked. "Jabbed your spurs into my thighsand stood on them," he replied in a matter-of-fact voice. "But 'tisall one. Blood was meant to be spilled."

  Being now more than five feet from the ground, I was able to worm myfingers into a crack at the point where the ridge began to incline,and so hoist myself on to an insecure footing. But it was utterlybeyond my power to drag Larke after me, for the snow was thin andshallow, and underneath it the rock loose and shattered. I should mostsurely have been pulled over had I made the attempt. I ascended theridge in the hope of discovering a more stable position, whence Icould lower my cloak to my companion. But 'twas all slabs at a prettysteep slope, with here and there little breaks and ledges. I couldjust crawl up on my belly, but I could do no more. There was never ayard of level where you could secure a solid grip of the feet. So Iclimbed back again and leaned over the edge.

  "Jack," I said, "I can't give you a helping hand. It would mean acertain fall."

  "I shall need little help, Morrice--very little," he answered, in atone of entreaty.

  "I can't even give you that. The ridge is too insecure."

  "Ah! Don't say that!" he burst out "You have not come all these milesto be turned back by a foot or two of rock. It is absurd! It is worsethan absurd. It is cowardly."

  "Hush!" I whispered gently. For I could gauge his disappointment, andgauging it, could pardon his railing, "I have no thought of turningback."

  "Then what will you do? Morrice, this is no time for dreaming! Whatwill you do?"

  "Jack," I said, "you and I must part company. I must win through thistrouble by myself."

  I heard something like a sob; it was the only answer he made.

  "Wait for me by the horses in the wood! Give me till dawn, but not amoment longer! If I am not with you then--well, 'tis the long good-byebetwixt you and me, Jack, and you had best ride for your life."

  Again he made no answer. For a moment I fancied that he had stolenaway in a fury, and I craned my head over the rock, so that I couldlook down into the road. He was standing motionless with bentshoulders just beneath me.

  "Jack!" I called. For it might well be the last time I should speak tohim. We had been good friends, and I would not have him part from mein anger. "There is no other way. It can't be helped."

  He turned up his face towards me, but it was too dark for me to readits expression.

  "Very well, Morrice," he said, and there was no resentment in histone. "I will wait for your coming, and God send you come!"

  And with a dull, heavy step he walked back along the path.

  I turned and set my face to the cliff. After a while the ridge widenedout, and the snow overlaid it more firmly, insomuch that a surefootmight have walked along by day. In the uncertain light, however--forthe moon as yet hung low in a gap of the hills--I dared not ventureit, and crept up on my hands and knees, testing carefully each toothof rock or ever I trusted my weight to its stability. Towards thesummit the rib thinned again to a sharp edge, and I was forced tostraddle up it as best I could, with a leg dangling on either side.Altogether, what with the obstacles which the climb presented, and thenumbing of my fingers, since the snow quickly soaked through mygloves, I made my way but slowly.

  At the top I found myself face to face with the Castle wall, which wassome ten feet in height, and quite solid and uncrumbled. Between itand the rim of the crag, however, was a strip of level ground abouthalf a yard broad, and I determined to follow it round until I shouldreach some angle at which it would be possible to climb the wall. Onthis strip the snow was heavily piled, and for security's sake I gotme again to my hands and knees, flogging a path before me with thescabbard of my sword. I began to fear that I might be foiled in myendeavour for want of a companion; for again I bethought me, Julianonly descended, and a man might drop from any portion of the wall,whereas the scaling of it was a different matter. I proceeded in theopposite direction to the Castle gates, and so came out above thesouth face of the precipice. Below me the houses of Lukstein villageglimmered like a cluster of glow-worms; I had merely to roll over tofall dump among the roof-tops. I could even hear a faint murmur ofbrawling voices, and once I caught a plaintive snatch of song. For inthat still, windless air sounds rose like bubbles in a clear pool ofwater.

  The wall on my left curved and twisted with the indents of the cliff,and a little more than halfway across the face I came to a spot whereit ran in and out at a sharp angle. Moreover, one of the turrets whichI had remarked from the wood bulged out from the line, and made ofthis angle a sort of crevice. Into the corner I thrust my back, andworking my elbows and knees, with some help from the roughness of thestones, I managed to mount on to the parapet. The Castle lay stretchedbefore me. In front stood the main body of the building; to my right ashorter wing, ending in a tower, jutted off towards the wall on whichI lay. A broad terrace, enclosing in the centre a patch of lawn,separated me from the building.

  I fixed my eyes upon the tower. The window of the lower room was dark,and, strangely enough, 'twas the only window dark in the house. Fromthe upper room there shone a faint gleam as of a lamp ill-trimmed. Butall the other windows in the chief facade and the more distant part ofthis wing blazed out into the night. I could see passing figuresshadowed upon the curtains, and music floated forth on a ripple oflaughter, gavotte being linked to
minuet and pavane in an endlessmelody.

  Every now and then some couple dainty with ribbons and jewels wouldstep out from the porch, and with low voices and pensive steps pacethe terrace until the cold froze the sweetness from their talk. Theywere plain to me, for the moon was riding high, and revealed even thenooks of the garden. Indeed, the only obscure corner was that in whichI lay concealed. For a little pavilion leaned against the wall hard byme, and cast a deep shadow over the coping.

  But I hardly needed even that protection to screen me from thesetruants. I might have stood visible in the lawn's centre, and yet beenasked no question. For such as braved the frost came not out to spyfor strangers; their eyes sought each other with too intimate aninsistance.

  I had indeed timed my visit ill. The revels of the village were beingrepeated in the Castle.

  The sharp contrast of my particular purpose forced its reality grimlyupon me, and made this vigil one long agony. I had planned to tellLarke the true object of my coming during the hour or so we shouldhave to wait, and to draw some solace from his companionship. Now,however, I was planted there alone with a message of death for my foeor for myself, and the glamour of life in my eyes, and it seemed to methat all the tedium of my journey had been held over for these hoursof waiting.

  To cap my discomfort I found occasion to prove to myself that I was amost indisputable prig. I had often discoursed to Larke concerning theconsolations to be drawn from the classics in moments of distress. NowI sought to practise the precept, and to that end lowered a bucketinto the well of my memories. But alas! I hauled up naught but tagsabout Cerberus and Charon, and passages from the sixth book of Vergil.

  To tell the honest truth, I was dismally afraid. The very stars in thesky flashed sword-points at my breast, and the ice upon the hillsglittered like breastplates of steel. Moreover, my hands were swollenand clumsy with the cold, and I dreaded lest I might lose the nervousflexibility of their muscles, and so the nice command of my sword. Istripped off my gloves which were freezing on my fingers, and thrustmy hands inside my shirt to keep them warm against my skin.

  Somehow or another, however, the night wore through. The stars and themoon shifted across the mountains, the music began to falter intobreaks, and the murmurs grew louder from the village. I heard sledgesdescend the road with a jingle of bells, first one, then another, thenseveral in quick succession. Iron gates clanked on the far side of theCastle, the windows darkened, and finally a light sprang up in thelower of the chambers which I watched.

  I turned over on my face and dropped on to the snow. But my spursrattled and clinked as I touched the ground, and I stooped down andloosed them from my feet. I cast a hurried glance around me. Not ashadow moved; the world seemed frozen to an eternal immobility. Icrept across the lawn, up the terrace steps to the sill of the window,and peered into the room. It was small and luxuriously furnished, theroof, panels, and floor, being all of a polished and mellow pine-wood.Warm-coloured rugs and the skins of chamois were scattered on thefloor, and four candles in heavy sconces blazed on the mantel. Sunninghimself before the log-fire sat Count Lukstein. I knew him at oncefrom Julian's account: a big, heavy-featured man with a loose droppingmouth. He was elaborately dressed in a suit of grey satin richly lacedwith silver, which seemed somewhat too airy and fanciful to befit themassive girth of his limbs. These he displayed to their fullproportions, and the sight did little to enhearten me. For he sat withhis legs stretched out and his arms clasped behind his head, thefirelight playing gaily upon a sparkle of diamonds in his cravat.

  I noted the two doors of which Julian had spoken--that on my rightleading to the bedroom, that on my left to the hall--and in particulara small writing-table which stood against the wall facing me. For asilver bell upon it caught the light of the candles and reflected itinto my eyes. And I remembered Julian's story of his visit to theHotwell.

  Whether it was that I rattled the frame of the window, or that chanceturned the Count's looks my way, I know not; but he suddenly turnedfull towards me, My face was pressed flat to the glass. I drew backhastily into the shadow of the wall. One minute passed, two, three;the window darkened, and the Count, lifting his hands to his templesto shut out the light at his back, laid his forehead to the pane.Instinctively I clapped my hand to the pistol in my pocket and cockedit. The click of the hammer sounded loud in my ears as though I hadexploded the charge. Count Lukstein flung open the window and set onefoot outside.

  "Who is it?" he cried; and yet again, "who is it?"

  I drew a deep breath, stepped quickly past him into the room, andturned about. The two doors and the writing-table were now behind me.

  He staggered back from the window, and his hand dived at the hilt ofhis sword. But before he could draw it he raised his eyes to my face;he let go of his sword and stared in sheer bewilderment.

  "And in the devil's name," he asked, "who are you?"

  'Twas a humiliating moment for me. He spoke as a master might to animpudent schoolboy, and it was with a quavering schoolboy's treblethat I answered him.

  "I am Morrice Buckler."

  "An Englishman?" he questioned, bending his brows suddenly; for wewere speaking in German.

  "Of the county of Cumberland," I replied meekly. I felt as if I wasrepeating my catechism.

  "Then, Mr. Morrice Buckler, of the county of Cumberland," he began,with an exaggerated politeness. But I broke in upon him.

  "I have some knowledge of the county of Bristol, too," I said, with asmuch bravado as I could muster. But 'twas no great matter. The displaywould have disgraced a tavern bully.

  The words, however, served their turn. Just for a second, just longenough for me to perceive it, a startled look of fear flashed into hiseyes, and his body seemed to shrink in bulk. Then he asked suddenly:

  "How came you here?"

  "By a path Sir Julian Harnwood told me of," says I.

  He stretched a finger towards the window.

  "Go!" he cried in a low voice. "Go!"

  I stood my ground, for I noted with a lively satisfaction that thequaver had passed from my voice into his.

  "Have a care, Master Buckler!" he continued. "You are no longer inEngland. You would do well to remember that. There are reasons why Iwould have no disturbance here to-night. There are reasons. But on mylife, if you refuse to obey me, I will have you whipped from here bymy servants."

  "Ah!" says I, "this is not the first time, Count Lukstein, that someone has stood between you and the bell."

  He cast a glance over my shoulder. I saw that he was going to shout,and I whipped out the pistol from my pocket.

  "If you shout," I said, "the crack of this will add little to thenoise."

  "It would go ill with you if you fired it," he blustered.

  "It would go yet worse with you," I answered.

  And there we stood over against one another, the finest brace ofcowards in Christendom, each seeking to overcome the other by a wordybraggadocio. Indeed, my forefinger so trembled on the trigger that Iwonder the pistol did not go off and settle our quarrel out of hand.

  "What does it mean?" he burst out, screwing himself to a note ofpassion. "What does it mean? You skulk into my house like a thief."

  "The manner of my visit does in truth leave much to be desired," Iconceded. "But for that you must thank your reputation."

  "It does, in truth," he returned, ignoring my last words. "It leavesmuch--very much. You see that yourself, Mr. Buckler. So, to-morrow!Return by the way you came, and come to me again tomorrow. We can talkat leisure. It is over-late to-night."

  "Nay, my lord," said I, drawing some solid comfort from the wheedlingtone in which he spake. "Your servants will be abroad in the housetomorrow, and, as you were careful to remind me, I am not in England.I have waited for some six hours upon the parapet of your terrace, andI have no mind to let the matter drag to another day."

  His eyes shifted uneasily about the room; but ever they returned tothe shining barrel of my pistol.

  "Well, well," said he at le
ngth, with a shrug of the shoulders, and alaugh that rang flat as a cracked guinea, "one must needs listen whenthe speaker holds a pistol at your head. Say your say and get itdone."

  He flung himself into a chair which stood in the corner by the window.I sat me in the one from which he had risen, drawing it closer to thefire. A little table stood within arm's reach, and I pulled it upbetween us and laid my pistol on the edge.

  "I have come," said I, "upon Sir Julian Harnwood's part."

  "Pardon me!" he interrupted. "You will oblige me by speaking English,and by speaking it low."

  The request seemed strange, but 'twas all one to me what language wespoke so long as he understood.

  "Certainly," I answered. "I am here to undertake his share in thequarrel which he had with you, and to complete the engagement whichwas interrupted on the Kingsdown."

  "But, Mr. Buckler," he said, with some show of perplexity, "thequarrel was a private one. Wherein lies your right to meddle with thematter?"

  "I was Sir Julian's friend," I replied. "He knew the love I bore him,and laid this errand as his last charge upon it."

  "Really, really," said he, "both you and your friend seem strangelyill-versed in the conduct of gentlemen. You say Sir Julian laid thiserrand upon you. But I have your bare word for that. It is not enough.And even granting it to be true, my quarrel was with Sir Julian, notwith you. One does not fight duels by proxy."

  He had recovered his composure, and spoke with an easysuperciliousness.

  "My lord," I answered, stung by his manner, "I must ask you to get thebetter of that scruple, as I have of one far more serious, for, afterall, one does not as a rule fight duels with murderers."

  He started forward in his chair as though he had been struck. I seizedthe butt of my pistol, for I fancied he was about to throw himselfupon me.

  "I know more than you think," said I, nodding at him, "and this willprove it to you."

  I drew the oval gold box from my fob and tossed it on to his knees.His hands darted at it, and he turned it over and over in his palms,staring at the cover with white cheeks.

  "How got you this?" he asked hoarsely, and then remembering himself,"I know nothing of it. I know nothing of it."

  "Sir Julian gave it into my hands," said I. "I visited him in hisprison on the evening of the 22nd September."

  He stared at me for a while, repeating "the 22nd September" like onebusy over a sum.

  "The 22nd September," said I, "the 22nd September. It was the day ofhis trial."

  At the words his face cleared wonderfully. He rose with anindescribable air of relief, flung the box carelessly on the table,and said with a contemptuous smile:

  "Ah, Mr. Buckler! Mr. Buckler! You would have saved much time had youmentioned the date earlier. How much?" and he shook some imaginarycoins in the cup of his hand.

  "Count Lukstein!" I exclaimed.

  I had not the faintest notion of what he was driving at, and thesurprise which his change of manner occasioned me obscured the insult.

  "Tut, tut, man!" he resumed, with a wave of the hand. "How much?Surely the farce drags."

  "The farce," I replied hotly, "is one of those which are best playedseriously. Remember that, Count Lukstein!"

  "Well, well," he said indulgently, "have your own way. But, believeme, you are making a mistake. I have no wish to cheapen your wares.That you have picked up some fragments of the truth I am ready toagree; and I am equally ready to buy your silence. You have but toname your price."

  "I have named it," I muttered, locking my teeth, for I was fast losingmy temper, and feared lest I might raise my voice sufficiently to beheard beyond the room.

  "Let me prove to you that you are wasting time," said he with insolentpatience. "You have been ill-primed for your work. You say that youvisited Sir Julian on the night of the 22nd. You say that you were SirJulian's friend. I would not hurt your feelings, Mr. Buckler, but boththose statements are, to put it coarsely, lies. You were never SirJulian's friend, or you would have known better than to have fixedthat date. But two people visited him on the 22nd, a priest and awoman, the most edifying company possible for a dying man." He endedwith a smooth scorn. I looked up at him and laughed.

  "Ah!" said he, "we are beginning to understand each other."

  I laughed a second time.

  "She was over-tall for a woman, my lord," said I, "though of no greatstature for a man."

  I rose as I spoke the words and confronted him. We were standing onopposite sides of the little table. The smile died off his face; heleaned his hands upon the table and bent slowly over it, searching mylooks with horror-stricken eyes.

  "What do you mean?" he asked in a hoarse whisper.

  "I was the woman. How else should I have got that box?"

  "You, you!" He spoke in a queer matter-of-fact tone of assent. All hisfeeling and passion seemed to have gathered in his eyes.

  So we stood waging a battle of looks. And then of a sudden I noticed acrafty, indefinable change in his expression, and from the tail of myeye I saw his fingers working stealthily across the table. I droppedmy hand on to the butt of my pistol. With a ready cunning he picked upthe gold box and began to examine it with so natural an air ofabstraction that I almost wondered whether I had not mistaken hisdesign.

  "And so," says he at length, "you would fight with me?"

  "If it please you, yes," says I.

  "Miss Marston, it seems, has more admirers than I knew of," hereturned, with a cunning leer which made my stomach rise at him.

  He seemed incapable of conceiving a plain open purpose in any man. Yetfor all that I could not but admire the nimbleness of his wits. Notmerely had he recovered his easy demeanour, but he was already, as Icould see, working out another issue from the impasse. I clung fast tothe facts.

  "I have never seen Miss Marston," said I. "I fight for my friend."

  "For your friend? For your dead, useless friend?" He dropped the wordsslowly, one by one, with a smiling disbelief. "Come, come, Mr.Buckler! Not for your friend! We are both men of the world. Be frankwith me! Is it sensible that two gentlemen should spill honest bloodfor the sake of a feather-headed wanton?"

  "If the name fits her, my lord," I replied, "who is to blame for that?And as for the honest blood, I have more hope of spilling it thanfaith in its honesty."

  The Count's face grew purple, and the veins swelled out upon his amplethroat. I snatched up the pistol, and we both stood trembling withpassion. The next moment, I think, must have decided the quarrel, butfor a light sound which became distinctly audible in the silence. Itdescended from the room above. We both looked up to the ceiling, theCount with a sudden softness on his face, and I understood, or ratherI thought I understood, why he had not raised the alarm before Iproduced my pistol, and why he bade me subsequently speak in English.For the sound was a tapping, such as a woman's heels may make upon apolished floor.

  I waited, straining my ears to hear the little stairway creak behindthe door at my back, and cudgelling my brains to think what I shoulddo. If she came down into the room, it was all over with my projectand, most likely, with my life, too, unless I was prepared to shoot myopponent in cold blood and make a bolt for it. After a while, however,the sound ceased altogether, to my indescribable relief. The Count wasthe first to break the silence.

  "Very well, Mr. Buckler," said he; "send your friends to me in themorning. Let them come like men to the door and give me assurance thatI may meet you without loss of self-respect, and you shall have yourway."

  "You force me to repeat," said I, "that the matter must be disposed ofto-night."

  "To-night!" he said, and stared at me incredulously. "Mr. Buckler, youmust be mad."

  "To-night," I repeated stubbornly. For, apart from all considerationsof safety, I felt that such courage as I possessed was but the frothof my anger, and would soon vanish if it were left to stand. The Countbegan to pace the room between the writing-table and the window. I setmy chair against the wall and leaned against the chimney, and I noted
that at each turn in his walk he drew, as though unconsciously, nearerand nearer to the bell.

  "Mr. Buckler," he said, "what you propose is quite out of thequestion. I can but attribute it to your youth. You take too littlethought of my side of the case. To fight with one whom I have never somuch as set eyes on before, who forces his way into my house in thedead of night--you must see for yourself that it fits not my dignity."

  "You are too close to the bell, Count Lukstein, and you raise yourvoice," I broke in sharply. "That fits not my safety."

  He stood still in the middle of the room and raised a clenched fist tohis shoulder, glaring at me. In a moment, however, he resumed hisformer manner.

  "Besides," he went on, "there is a particular reason why I would haveno disturbance here tonight. You got some inkling of it a moment ago."He nodded to the ceiling.

  I blush with shame now when I remember what I answered him. I took aleaf from his book, as the saying is, and could conceive no worthystrain in him.

  "The good lady," I said, "whom you honour with your attentions nowmust wait until the affairs of her predecessor are arranged."

  The Count came sliding over the floor with a sinuous movement of hisbody and a very dangerous light in his eyes.

  "You insult my wife," he said softly, and as I reeled against the hoodof the fireplace, struck out of my wits by his words, he of a suddengave a low bellowing cry, plucked his sword from his sheath, andlunged at my body. I saw the steel flash in a line of light and sprangon one side. The sword quivered in the wood level with my left elbow.My leap upset the table, the pistol clattered on the floor. I whippedout my sword, Count Lukstein wrenched his free, and in a twinkling wewere set to it. I think all fear vanished from both of us, for CountLukstein's face was ablaze with passion, and I felt the blood in myveins running like strong wine.