CHAPTER XIX
THE TIGER SPRINGS
The drawing-room at Redwithy Farm was bathed in the shadows of earlyautumn evening. A fire of blazing logs spluttered and crackled in thegreat open fireplace. Its ruddy light shed an atmosphere of mellowcomfort and coziness over the entire aspect of the room. Under ordinarycircumstances Vita would have revelled in the delight of these momentsof a great new happiness in her beautiful home.
She was ensconced in an armchair beside the fire which had doubtless,in years gone by, supported the slumbering form of some bewiggedcountry squire. Its design was perfect for such a purpose. A smalltea-table stood at her elbow. The muffins were cold upon it, but shehad been glad of the mildly stimulating effects of the tea.
Now she was sitting forward in her chair gazing deep down into theheart of the fire. A teeming thought was speeding through a brainwhich, of late, seemed always to be working at high pressure. The oddpucker of thought between her brows added charm and character to herbeautiful face. Her eyes, too, had lost something of their profoundserenity. They were alight and shining with a certain nervousconcentration, while her delicate lips were unusually firmly compressed.
She had only returned from London an hour earlier, and now, far fromthe distractions of the momentous hours she had spent with the manwhose love had been powerful enough to sweep aside every otherconsideration from her mind, she was striving to quell all emotion, anddisentangle the skeins in which she felt hopelessly caught up.
Paramount, her great love for Ruxton stood out and tripped her at everyeffort to concentrate upon those matters which related to the plansupon which they were all at work. Her alarm for her father was real andalmost overwhelming. But her joy in her new-found love robbed it ofhalf its significance. In the happiness of the moment it was impossibleto believe or accept, even, the suggestion that disaster had overtaken,or could overtake him.
In the first rush of her dread Ruxton's confidence had reassured her.Her father must be safe. Her lover's argument had been so clear andconvincing. Then he had promised to meet him on his arrival in England.Yes, her father was bound to make for Dorby. That was their secretlanding-place. Ruxton would be there. He would not fail. He would warnhim of Von Salzinger's discovery of her house. He would arrange for hissafety. To all these things he had given his word, and his word wasall-sufficient for her. As for his ability to put his promise intoeffect there could be no question. The proud thought in her was supreme.
She dwelt upon the glamored picture of her lover which was always inher mind, and it comforted her and reassured her as she had never foundcomfort or reassurance before. No one who knew him could question, shefelt. Her vivid mental vision dwelt upon the sculptured beauties of hismagnificent face and head. The calmly assured manner; the greatphysical strength, which reminded her of the men in the wonderfulhistory of her own country,--these things overbore her woman'stimidities, and reacted upon her in a manner which drove all doubtsheadlong.
He would write her. How? Through the post, or would he send a messengerwith the news of her father's safety? It was a useless speculation. Allshe knew was that the news would come. He had promised it.
Vassilitz entered the room. Vita knew it because the door had opened,and the rattle of the handle had disturbed her. Otherwise the man'smovements were decorously silent. He crossed to the windows and drewthe curtains. He glided across the room, and prepared to remove thetea-things.
Would madame have the lights? No, madame preferred the firelight. Thebrighter lights would have disturbed her dreaming. The man bore thetea-table away, his dark eyes and sallow features perfect in theirimmobility.
As the door closed behind him, memory brought Vita a fleeting unease.She remembered Ruxton's warning about Vassilitz. He had suggested hispossible connection with the Secret Service. It seemed impossible. Andyet Ruxton had been definite. How long had she known him? She cast backin her mind. Why, as long as she could remember. She remembered him asa village lout, who sometimes worked for her father in his garden. Thenhe had been taken away to the army, as they were all taken away by thecruel conscript laws. Yes, of course, he had been away in the army,and--they had lost sight of him all that time--the time he was in thearmy.
Then she dismissed the matter. Ruxton must be right. She was sure hewould not say such a thing without some reason. She would sendVassilitz back to his home. There must be no unnecessary risk of herfather's safety.
Having settled the matter, the fiery caverns in the grate absorbed herattention once more, and every beat of her heart helped to bridge thedistance which separated her from the lover who had so suddenly thrusthimself into her life.
How long she sat crouching over the crackling fire, dreaming thosedreams of life, which afterwards become the most sacred treasures of awoman's memory, Vita never knew. Later, when she reviewed thosemoments, conviction remained that never for one moment had her eyesclosed in response to the seductive warmth of the fire. Yet she knewthat in some strange manner oblivion must have stolen upon her. Withouta shadow of warning she found herself sitting bolt upright, every dropof blood seeming to have receded from her veins, leaving her shiveringin a frigid panic. The cold, hard tones of a man's voice wereaddressing her.
"The Princess will forgive the unceremonious nature of this visit," itsaid. "It is imperative, for--it is made under the direct authority ofthose who claim all subjects of the Fatherland."
The words were in German. They were without a shadow of inflection, andthereby gained in the consummate tyranny of their meaning.
Vita was on her feet. Nor had the wild panic which swept through herevery nerve centre power to rob her of the regal poise natural to her.She battled fiercely for calmness, but only achieved it superficially.
In the dark of the room she could see nothing of the intruderdistinctly. A shadowy outline in the direction of the closed door wasall she could make out. Then, with a swift movement, one arm was thrustout towards the wall beside the fireplace. Her fingers encountered agroup of electric switches. In a moment the room was flooded with ashaded, mellow light.
"Frederick von Berger! You!"
It was the only exclamation that escaped her parched lips. But itexpressed all the terror which would no longer be denied.
She had recognized the intruder. And behind him she saw the squarefigure of Von Salzinger. But the latter meant nothing compared with theoverwhelming personality of the man whom she, with thousands of others,had always regarded as the Kaiser's evil genius. Probably only once ortwice in all her years she had seen this man in the flesh. But hispictures, they were known to everybody in the Fatherland, just as wasthe sinister reputation which dogged his name.
Oh, yes, she knew him--and he was here, here in England, and had stolenin upon the privacy and obscurity of her home. What was his purpose?What? Something of it, at least, was plain to her from the moment ofher recognition. It was the cruel hand of the Teutonic machineryreaching out towards her and--hers. Hers! The thought seared itselfupon her brain. For herself she had no thought, but for her father shehad become the veriest coward.
The intruder displayed no interest or feeling at the manner of Vita'sgreeting. The lines of his face remained as stonily graven as chiselledmarble. So cold was his regard that it even seemed incapable ofinterpreting her matchless beauty.
"I am honored that the Princess recognizes me," he said, with acoldness that made his words an offence. "It will save explanation."
Then he came towards her and stood before the fire confronting her. Hisheight matched hers, which left him only of medium height for a man.
"Your father has sold the secrets of Borga to--England. Now he has madegood his escape to--England." Then without a sign, or gesture, orshadow of significance, he added: "So you see it was necessary to visityou here."
It was well-nigh an impossibility ever to fathom the thought which laybehind this man's spoken word. There was a directness and simplicityabout him which was utterly confounding. Then there was that dreadfulfrigidity of eye and
attitude.
Vita realized the impossibility at once. She made no attempt to guessat that which was in his mind. She contented herself with his admissionof her father's escape. Without it terror alone would have remained.Instead, now, a wonderful calmness settled upon her. Maybe there was atouch of desperation in her calm. But there was still the assurance ofher father's security, at least temporarily. She must watch. She muststrive. If there were the smallest possibility she must baffle thepurpose which had brought Frederick von Berger to her home. She waited.
"It is not presumed, of course, that you are aware of thesematters--yet. But it is well known to our agents that you are in touchwith the Prince. Therefore it is probable on his arrival in England hewill communicate with you. It is not our intention to permit you tothus incriminate yourself. All possibility of the Prince'scommunicating with you must be avoided, or you, a woman, will fallunder the penalty of his crimes. You will prepare yourself at once tomake a journey by road. You will leave this house at once, and remainaway from it until the whole unpleasant affair has been settled to thesatisfaction of Berlin. These are instructions direct to you from theauthority of the land which still claims you subject."
Resentment was the dominant emotion the man's pronouncement stirred inVita. His authority was unquestioned in her mind, but the manner of himwas infuriating to her hot Polish blood. The sparkle of her beautifuleyes could not be concealed. She bit her lips to keep back the hotwords which leapt in retort, and, all the while he was speaking, shereminded herself of the necessity for calm. The moment his last worddied out her reply came.
"Here, in England, I am commanded by German authority to abandon myhome and go whithersoever it pleases you to conduct me. Germanauthority in a country where German authority does not obtain. Youtrespass on my premises, admitted I do not know how. You dictate thisabsurd order to me, and expect me to obey it. This is not Prussia."
"Precisely, Princess. If this were Prussia there would be nodiscussion." It was the first shadow of threat the man had displayed.It was not in his tone. It lay in the keen, steely cold gleam of hiseyes. "As for the authority," the man shrugged, "there is no corner inthe world where a German subject exists that German authority does notobtain--for the German subject. If you have not yet realized this, thenI beg you to do so at once. The method of enforcing that authorityalone differs."
"I understand that. In England it is enforced by the methods such asany common criminal might adopt. For instance, the burglar who stealsinto private houses."
The biting sarcasm left Frederick von Berger quite undisturbed.
"The chief point is, it is, and will be, enforced," he observed coolly."Will you be kind enough to prepare for that journey?"
"If I refuse?"
Von Berger shrugged.
"You will still make it. The preparations will be made for you."
"By whom?"
"By your servants."
There was just the faintest flicker of the eyelids as the man assuredher. There was no smile, and yet there was a change from the frigiditywhich had been so poignantly marked up to that moment.
"My servants! Are they, too, bound to obey the mandates of Berlin inviolation of the laws of free England?" Anger was getting the better ofher resolve.
"They, too, are children of the Fatherland."
"Spies!"
The exclamation broke from the angry woman with fierce heat.
"Certain of them have their orders."
They stood eye to eye. The anger of the Princess flamed into the coldgaze of the man. There was no yielding in either at the moment.
"I refuse."
The words came full of desperate determination. But even as Vitapronounced them she felt their futility. Swiftly she cast about in hermind for a loophole of escape, but every avenue seemed to be closed.The house was isolated. It was attended by seven or eight servants, andbitterly she remembered that they all came from a country which yieldedallegiance to Teutonic tyranny. Ruxton had been right. Oh, how right!Which of these servants were under the orders of this man? She couldnot be sure, excepting in the case of Vassilitz. Again panic grew andreached a pitch of hysteria as she listened to the man's easy leveltones.
"You are angry, and your common-sense is blinded by it," he saidwithout emotion. "Were it not so you would see the absurdity of yourrefusal. I am not without means of enforcing authority. Listen. At thefront door stands a powerful car. A closed car, which is fictitiouslynumbered. While we are talking your maid is packing for you. She hasorders to prepare for you every luxury and comfort you are accustomedto require. This luggage will be placed in the car, and she will travelwith you. If you persist in your refusal you will be dealt with. If youseek to call for aid you will be silenced. The servants in your housewill not dare to raise a finger in your assistance. You will beconducted to a place already prepared to receive you. You will betreated with every courtesy your rank and sex entitles you to. And whenthese affairs are settled to suit Berlin you will be released. Do youstill refuse?"
The recital of the conditions prevailing possessed a conviction thatsuggested the inevitability of Doom, Vita realized. Coming from anotherthan Frederick von Berger she might have hoped. But this man--sheshivered. A conscienceless mechanism as soulless as cold steel.
Her answer was delayed. Her eyes, searching vainly, swept over theroom. Finally they encountered the square face of Von Salzinger. Shehad forgotten him. Her gaze was caught and held, and, in a moment, sherealized that he was endeavoring to convey some meaning to her. Itsnature was obscure, but the expression of his usually hard facesuggested sympathy, and almost kindliness. Could it be that in thegrinding machinery of Prussian tyranny she possessed one friend? Sheremembered Von Salzinger's protestations. She remembered that he hadspoken of love to her. Love--what a mockery! But might she not hope forsupport from him? No, he was bound hand and foot. She dared hope for noopen support. But----
Von Berger displayed the first sign of impatience. He withdrew hiswatch.
"I cannot delay," he said. "It is not my desire to use the force at mycommand. Being in England, and you being a woman, discussion has beenpermitted. You will now choose definitely, within one minute, whetheryou will submit to the orders of Berlin, or resist them. I amconsidering your convenience. It is immaterial to me which course youadopt."
He held the watch in the palm of his hand, and his eyes were bent uponits face, marking the progress of the second hand. The influence of hisattitude was tremendous. He was a perfect master of the methods whichhe represented. No one could have observed him and failed to realizethat here was a man who, with the same extraordinary callousness, couldeasily have stepped to the side of a fainting woman, and, without aqualm, have placed the muzzle of a revolver to her temple and blown herbrains out, as had been done in Belgium.
Vita watched him, fascinated and terrified. The silent moments slippedaway with the inevitability which no human power can stay.
Von Berger looked up. The measure of his eyes was coldly calculating.
"You have ten seconds," he said, and returned to his contemplation ofthe moving hand.
The strain was unendurable. Vita felt that she must scream. Her willwas yielding before the moral terror this man inspired. There was nohope of help. No hope anywhere. The fire shook down, and she started,her nerves on edge. She glanced over at Von Salzinger. Instantly hisfeatures stirred to that meaning expression of sympathy. Now, however,it only revolted her, and, as though drawn by a magnet, her eyes cameback to the bent head of Von Berger.
Simultaneously the man looked up and snapped his watch closed andreturned it to his pocket.
"Well?" he demanded, and the whole expression of him had changed.
Vita saw the tigerish light suddenly leap into his eyes. The man wastransfigured. She warned herself he was no longer a man. She could onlyregard him as something in the nature of a human tiger.
"I will go," she said, in a voice rendered thick by her terror-parchedthroat.
"Ja wohl!"
> Von Berger turned and signed to his confederate.