Long Live the King!

  CHAPTER XII. TWO PRISONERS

  Herman Spier had made his escape with the letter. He ran throughtortuous byways of the old city, under arches into courtyards, out againby doorway set in walls, twisted, doubled like a rabbit. And all thiswith no pursuit, save the pricking one of terror.

  But at last he halted, looked about, perceived that only his own guiltyconscience accused him, and took breath. He made his way to the house inthe Road of the Good Children, the letter now buttoned inside his coat,and, finding the doors closed, lurked in the shadow of the park until,an hour later, Black Humbert himself appeared.

  He eyed his creature with cold anger. "It is a marvel," he sneered,"that such flight as yours has not brought the police in a pack at yourheels."

  "I had the letter," Herman replied sulkily. "It was necessary to saveit."

  "You were to see where Niburg took the substitute."

  But here Herman was the one to sneer. "Niburg!" he said. "You knowwell enough that he will take no substitute to-night, or any night, Youstrike hard, my friend."

  The concierge growled, and together they entered the house across thestreet.

  In the absence of Humbert, his niece, daughter of a milk-seller near,kept the bureau, answered the bell, and after nine o'clock, when thedoors were bolted, admitted the various occupants of the house and gavethem the tiny tapers with which to light themselves upstairs. She wassewing and singing softly when they entered. Herman Spier's pale facecolored. He suspected the girl of a softness for him, not entirely borneout by the facts. So he straightened his ready-made tie, which hooked tohis collar button, and ogled her.

  "All right, girl. You may go," said Humbert. His huge bulk seemed tofill the little room.

  "Good-night to you both," the girl said, and gave Herman Spier a nod.When she was gone, the concierge locked the door behind her.

  "And now," he said, "for a look at the treasure."

  He rubbed his hands together as Herman produced the letter. Heads close,they examined it under the lamp. Then they glanced at each other.

  "A cipher," said the concierge shortly. "It tells nothing."

  It was a moment of intense disappointment. In Humbert's mind had beenforming, for the past hour or two, a plan--nothing less than to gohimself before the Council and, with the letter in hand, to point outcertain things which would be valuable. In this way he would serve boththe party and him-self. Preferment would follow. He could demand, underthe corning republic, some high office. Already, of course, he was knownto the Committee, and known well, but rather for brawn than brain. Theyused him. Now-- "Code!" he said. And struck the paper with a hairy fist."Everything goes wrong. That blond devil interferes, and now this letterspeaks but of blankets and loaves!"

  The bell rang, and, taking care to thrust the letter out of sight,the concierge disappeared. Then ensued, in the hall, a short colloquy,followed by a thumping on the staircase. The concierge returned.

  "Old Adelbert, from the Opera," he said. "He has lost his position, andwould have spent the night airing his grievance. But I sent him off!"

  Herman turned his pale eyes toward the giant. "So!" he said. And after apause, "He has some influence among the veterans."

  "And is Royalist to his marrow," sneered the concierge. He took theletter out again and, bringing a lamp, went over it carefully. It wassigned merely "Olga." "Blankets and loaves!" he fumed.

  Now, as between the two, Black Humbert furnished evil and strength, butit was the pallid clerk who furnished the cunning. And now he made asuggestion.

  "It is possible," he said, "that he--upstairs--could help."

  "Adelbert? Are you mad?"

  "The other. He knows codes. It was by means of one we caught him. I haveheard that all these things have one basis, and a simple one."

  The concierge considered. Then he rose. "It is worth trying," heobserved.

  He thrust the letter into his pocket, and the two conspirators went outinto the gloomy hall. There, on a ledge, lay the white tapers, and onehe lighted, shielding it from the draft in the hollow of his great hand.Then he led the way to the top of the house.

  Here were three rooms. One, the best, was Herman Spier's, a poor thingat that. Next to it was old Adelbert's. As they passed the door theycould hear him within, muttering to himself. At the extreme end ofthe narrow corridor, in a passage almost blocked by old furniture, wasanother room, a sort of attic, with a slanting roof.

  Making sure that old Adelbert did not hear them, they went back to thisdoor, which the concierge unlocked. Inside the room was dark. The tapershowed little. As their eyes became accustomed to the darkness, theoutlines of the attic stood revealed, a junk-room, piled high with oldtrunks, and in one corner a bed.

  Black Humbert, taper in hand, approached the bed. Herman remained nearthe door. Now, with the candle near, the bed revealed a man lying on it,and tied with knotted ropes; a young man, with sunken cheeks and weary,desperate eyes. Beside him, on a chair, were the fragments of a meal, abit of broken bread, some cold soup, on which grease had formed a firmcoating.

  Lying there, sleeping and waking and sleeping again, young Haeckel, onetime of His Majesty's secret service and student in the University, hadlost track of the days. He knew not how long he had been a prisoner,except that it had been eternities. Twice a day, morning and evening,came his jailer and loosened his bonds, brought food, of a sort, andallowed him, not out of mercy, but because it was the Committee'spleasure that for a time he should live, to move about the room andbring the blood again to his numbed limbs.

  He was to live because he knew many things which the Committee wouldknow. But, as the concierge daily reminded him, there was a limit tomercy and to patience.

  In the mean time they held him, a hostage against certain contingencies.Held him and kept him barely alive. Already he tottered about theroom when his bonds were removed; but his eyes did not falter, or hiscourage. Those whom he had served so well, he felt, would not forgethim. And meanwhile, knowing what he knew, he would die before he becamethe tool of these workers in the dark.

  So he lay and thought, and slept when thinking became unbearable, andthus went his days and the long nights.

  The concierge untied him, and stood back. "Now," he said.

  But the boy--he was no more--lay still. He made one effort to rise, andfell back.

  "Up with you!" said the concierge, and jerked him to his feet. He caughtthe rail of the bed, or he would have fallen. "Now--stand like a man."

  He stood then, facing his captors without defiance. He had worn all thatout in the first days of his imprisonment. He was in shirt and trousersonly, his feet bare, his face unshaven--the thin first beard of earlymanhood.

  "Well?" he said at last. "I thought--you've been here once to-night."

  "Right, my cuckoo. But to-night I do you double honor."

  But seeing that Haeckel was swaying, he turned to Herman Spier. "Godown," he said, "and bring up some brandy. He can do nothing for us inthis state."

  He drank the brandy eagerly when it came, and the concierge poured him asecond quantity. What with weakness and slow starvation, it did what nothreat of personal danger would have done. It broke down his resistance.Not immediately. He fought hard, when the matter was first broachedto him. But in the end he took the letter and, holding it close to thecandle, he examined it closely. His hands shook, his eyes burned. Thetwo Terrorists watched him narrowly.

  Brandy or no brandy, however, he had not lost his wits. He glanced upsuddenly. "Tell me something about this," he said. "And what will you dofor me if I decode it?"

  The concierge would promise anything, and did. Haeckel listened, andknew the offer of liberty was a lie. But there was something about thestory of the letter itself that bore the hall-marks of truth.

  "You see," finished Black Humbert cunningly, "she--this--lady of theCourt--is plotting with some one, or so we suspect. If it is only aliaison--!" He spread his hands. "If, as is possible, she betrays us toKarnia, that we should find out. It is not," he added
, "among our plansthat Karnia should know too much of us."

  "Who is it?"

  "I cannot betray a lady," said Black Humbert, and leered.

  The brandy was still working, but the spy's mind was clear. He asked fora pencil, and set to work. After all, if there was a spy of Karl's inthe Palace, it were well to know it. He tried complicated methods first,to find that the body of the letter, after all, was simple enough. Byreading every tenth word, he got a consistent message, save that certainsupplies, over which the concierge had railed, were special code wordsfor certain regiments. These he could not decipher.

  "Whoever was to receive this," he said at last, "would have been inpossession of complete data of the army, equipment and all, and thelocation of various regiments. Probably you and your band of murderershave that already."

  The concierge nodded, no whit ruffled. "And for whom was it intended?"

  "I cannot say. The address is fictitious, of course."

  Black Humbert scowled. "So!" he said. "You tell us only a part!"

  "There is nothing else to tell. Save, as I have written here, the writerends: 'I must see you at once. Let me know where.'"

  The brandy was getting in its work well by that time. He was feelingstrong, his own man again, and reckless. But he was cunning, too. Heyawned. "And in return for all this, what?" he demanded. "I have doneyou a service, friend cut-throat."

  The concierge stuffed letter and translation into his pocket. "Whatwould you have, short of liberty?"

  "Air, for one thing." He stood up and stretched again. God, how stronghe felt! "If you would open that accursed window for an hour--the placereeks."

  Humbert was in high good humor in spite of his protests. In his pockethe held the key to favor, aye, to a plan which he meant to lay beforethe Committee of Ten, a plan breath-taking in its audacity and yetpotential of success. He went to the window and put his great shoulderagainst it.

  Instantly Haeckel overturned the candle and, picking up the chair,hurled it at Herman Spier. He heard the clerk go down as he leaped forthe door. Herman had not locked it. He was in the passage before theconcierge had stumbled past the bed.

  On the stairs his lightness counted. His bare feet made no sound. Hecould hear behind him the great mass of Humbert, hurling itself down.Haeckel ran as he had never run before. The last flight now, with theconcierge well behind, and liberty two seconds away.

  He flung himself against the doors to the street. But they were fastenedby a chain, and the key was not in the lock.

  He crumpled up in a heap as the concierge fell on him with fists likeflails.

  Some time later, old Adelbert heard a sound in the corridor, and peeredout. Humbert, assisted by the lodger, Spier, was carrying to the atticwhat appeared to be an old mattress, rolled up and covered with rags. Inthe morning, outside the door, there was a darkish stain, however, whichmight have been blood.