CHAPTER XXXVIII. IN THE ROAD OF THE GOOD CHILDREN
Haeckel crept to a window and looked out. Bonfires were springing upin the open square in front of the Government House. Mixed with the redglare came leaping yellow flames. The wooden benches were piled togetherand fired, and by each such pyre stood a gesticulating, shouting reddemon.
Guns were appearing now. Wagons loaded with them drove into the Square,to be surrounded by a howling mob. The percentage of sober citizenswas growing--sober citizens no longer. For the little King had not beenshown to them. Obviously he could not be shown to them. Therefore rumorwas right, and the boy was gone.
Against the Palace, therefore, their rage was turned. The shouts forthe little King turned to threats. The Archbishop had come out on thebalcony accompanied by Father Gregory. The Archbishop had raised hishands, but had not obtained silence. Instead, to his horror and dismay,a few stones had been thrown.
He retired, breathing hard. But Father Gregory had remained, facing thecrowd fearlessly, his arms not raised in benediction, but folded acrosshis chest. Stones rattled about him, but he did not flinch, and at lasthe gained the ears of the crowd. His great voice, stern and fearless;held them.
"My friends," he said, "there is work to be done, and you lose time. Wecannot show you the King, because he is not here. While you stand thereshrieking, his enemies have their will of him. The little King has beenstolen from the Palace."
He might have swayed them, even then. He tried to move them to a searchof the city. But a pallid man, sweating with excitement, climbed on theshoulders of two companions, and faced the crowd.
"Aye, he is stolen," he cried. "But who stole him? Not the city. We areloyal. Ask the Palace where he is. Ask those who have allied themselveswith Karnia. Ask Mettlich."
There was more, of course. The cries of "To the Palace!" increased.Those behind pushed forward, shoving the ones ahead toward the archway,where a line of soldiers with fixed bayonets stood waiting.
The Archduchess and Hilda with a handful of women, had fled to the roof,and from there saw the advance of the mob. Hedwig had haughtily refusedto go.
It had seemed to Hedwig that life itself was over. She did not care verymuch. When the Archbishop had been driven back from the balcony, sheforesaw the end. She knew of Nikky's treason now, knew it in all itsbitterness, but not all its truth. And, because she had loved him,although she told herself her love was dead, she sought him out in theroom where he sat and waited.
She was there when old Adelbert had brought his news and had fallen,before he could finish, Nikky had risen; and looked at her, ratherstonily. Then had followed such a scene as leaves scars, Hedwig blaminghim and forgiving him, and then breaking down and begging him to flight.And Nikky, with the din of the Place in his ears, and forbidden toconfront the mob, listening patiently and shaking his head. How littleshe knew him; after all, to think that he would even try to savehimself. He had earned death. Let it come.
He was not very clear himself as to how it happened. He had beentricked. But that was no excuse. And in the midst of her appeal to himto save himself, he broke in to ask where Olga Loschek was.
Hedwig drew herself up. "I do not know," she said, rather coldly.
"But after all," Nikky muttered, thinking of the lady-in-waiting,"escape is cut off. The Palace is surrounded."
For a moment Hedwig thought she had won. "It is not cut off," she said.And spoke of the turret door, and whither it led. All at once he saw itall. He looked at her with eyes that dilated with excitement, and thento her anger, shot by her and to the room where the Council waited. Hewas just in time to hear old Adelbert's broken speech, and to see himreel and fall.
At the hospital, Haeckel, the student, stood by his window, and littleby little the veil lifted. His slow blood stirred first. The beatingof drums, the shrieks of the crowd, the fires, all played their part.Another patient joined him, and together they looked out.
"Bad work!" said the other man.
"Aye!" said Haeckel. Then, speaking very slowly, and with difficulty, "Ido not understand."
"The King is dead." The man watched him. He had been of interest to theward.
"Aye," observed, Haeckel, still uncomprehending. And then, "Dead--theKing?"
"Dead. Hear the bell."
"Then--" But he could not at once formulate the thought in his mind.Speech came hard. He was still in a cloud.
"They say," said the other man, "that the Crown Prince is missing, thathe has been stolen. The people are frenzied."
He went on, dilating on the rumors. Still Haeckel labored. The King! TheCrown Prince! There was something that he was to do. It was just beyondhim, but he could not remember. Then, by accident, the other man touchedthe hidden spring of his memory.
"There are some who think that Mettlich--"
"Mettlich!" That was the word. With it the curtain split, as it were,the cloud was gone. Haeckel put a hand to his head.
A few minutes later, a strange figure dashed out of the hospital. Thenight watchman had joined the mob, and was at that moment selectinga rifle from a cart. Around the cart were students, still in theirCarnival finery, wearing the colors of his own corps. Haeckel, desperateof eye, pallid and gaunt, clad still in his hospital shirt and trousers;Haeckel climbed on to the wagon, and mounted to the seat, a strange,swaying figure, with a bandage on his head. In spite of that, there weresome who knew him.
"Haeckel!" they cried. The word spread. The crowd of students pressedclose.
"What would you do?" he cried to them. "You know me. You see me now.I have been done almost to death by those you would aid. Aye, armyourselves, but not against your King. We have sworn to stand together.I call on you, men of my corps, to follow me. There are those whoto-night will murder the little King and put King Mob on the throne. Andthey be those who have tortured roe. Look at me! This they have done tome." He tore the bandage off and showed his scarred head. "'Quick!" hecried. "I know where they hide, these spawn of hell. Who will follow me?To the King!"
"To the King!"
They took up the cry, a few at first, then all of them. More than hiswords, the gaunt and wounded figure of Haeckel in the cart fought forhim. He reeled before them. Two leaped up and steadied him, finally,indeed, took him on their shoulders, and led the way. They made a wedgeof men, and pushed through the mob.
"To the little King!" was the cry they raised, and ran, a flying wedgeof white, fantastic figures. Those who were unarmed seized weaponsfrom the crowd as they passed. Urged by Haeckel, they ran through thestreets.
Haeckel knew. It was because he had known that they had done away withhim. His mind, working now with almost unnatural activity, flew aheadto the house in the Road of the Good Children, and to what might beenacting there. His eyes burned. Now at last he would thwart them,unless-- Just before they turned into the street, a horseman had dashedout of it and flung himself out of the saddle. The door was bolted,but it opened to his ring, and Nikky faced the concierge, Nikky, with adrawn revolver in his hand, and a face deathly white.
He had had no time to fire, no time even to speak. The revolver flewout of his hand at one blow from the flail-like arms of the concierge.Behind him somewhere was coming, Nikky knew, a detachment of cavalry.But he had outdistanced them, riding frenziedly, had leaped hedges andditches across the Park. He must hold this man until they came.
Struggling in the grasp of the concierge, he yet listened for them. Fromthe first he knew it was a losing battle. He had lost before. But hefought fiercely, with the strength of a dozen. His frenzy was equaled bythat of the other man, and his weight was less by a half. He went downfinally and lay still, a battered, twisted figure.
The cavalry, in the mean time, had lost the way, was riding itsfoam-flecked horses along another street, and losing, time when everysecond counted.
But Black Humbert, breathing hard, had heard sounds in the street, andput up the chain. He stood at bay, a huge, shaken figure at the foot ofthe stone staircase. He was for flight now. But surely-
-outside at thedoor some one gave the secret knock of the tribunal, and followed itby the pass-word. He breathed again. Friends, of course, come for theammunition. But, to be certain, he went to the window of his bureau, andlooked out through the bars. Students!
"Coming!" he called. And kicked at Nikky's quiet figure as he passed it.Then he unbolted the door, dropped the chain, and opened the door.
Standing before him, backed by a great crowd of fantastic figures, wasHaeckel.
They did not kill him at once. At the points of a dozen bayonets,intended for vastly different work, they forced him up the staircase,flight after flight. At first he cried pitifully that he knew nothing ofthe royal child, then he tried to barter what he knew for his life. Theyjeered at him, pricked him shamefully from behind with daggers.
At the top of the last flight he turnery and faced them. "Gentlemen,friends!" he implored. "I have done him no harm. It was never in my mindto do him an injury. I--"
"He is in the room where you kept me?" asked Haeckel, in a low voice.
"He is there, and safe."
Then Haeckel killed him. He struck him with a dagger, and his great bodyfell on the stairs. He was still moving and groaning, as they swarmedover him.
Haeckel faced the crowd. "There are others," he said. "I know them all.When we have finished here, we will go on."
They were fearful of frightening the little King, and only two wentback, with the key that Haeckel had taken from the body of BlackHumbert. They unlocked the door of the back room, to find His Majestysitting on a chair, with a rather moist handkerchief in his hand. He wasnot at all frightened, however, and was weeping for his grandfather.
"Has the carriage come?" he demanded. "I am waiting for a carriage."
They assured him that a carriage was on the way, and were very much at aloss.
"I would like to go quickly," he said. "I am afraid mygrandfather--Nikky!"
For there stood Nikky in the doorway, a staggering, white-lipped Nikky.He was not too weak to pick the child up, however, and carry him to thehead of the stairs. They had moved the body of the concierge, by hisorder. So he stood there, the boy in his arms, and the students, only anhour before in revolt against him, cheered mightily.
They met the detachment of cavalry at the door, and thus, in state, rodeback to the Palace where he was to rule, King Otto the Ninth. A very sadlittle King, for Nikky had answered his question honestly. A King whomopped his eyes with a very dirty handkerchief. A weary little King,too, with already a touch of indigestion!
Behind them, in the house on the Road of the Good Children, Haeckel,in an access of fury, ordered the body of the concierge flung from awindow. It lay below, a twisted and shapeless thing, beside the piecesof old Adelbert's broken sword.