By Wit of Woman Part 31

If the Colonel was still there, the presence of the carriage no doubt made him keep concealed.

Presently other sounds reached me. Some one unfastened the windows of the room below and flung them wide open. A man went out and I heard his feet grate on the gravel.

"It's no use. He's dead drunk. We may as well----"

It was Gustav's voice, and the rest of the words were lost to me, for I shrank back nervously.

Then an instinctive impulse caused me to lay my ear to the ground and listen for the window to be shut. I heard it closed; but there was no sound of the bolt being shot.

Dark as it was and alone though I was in the room, I know that I turned deathly white at the possible reason for this which flashed upon me in that moment; and when I pa.s.sed my hand across my forehead the beads of perspiration stood thick upon it. I felt sick and dazed with the horror that was born of that thought; and my limbs were heavy as I dragged them back across the room to the bed and sat there, listening intently for the sounds of Count Gustav's departure, and ready to rush downstairs the instant he had gone.

There was no longer any need for me to stare vaguely out into the garden. I knew now that the watcher was there, and why he was there.

I had guessed the secret of that noisily opened window, of the loudly spoken words, and the closed but unbolted cas.e.m.e.nt.

The carriage went at last, after I had heard Count Gustav's voice in the hall below speaking to some one who answered in a lower and indistinct tone.

While the two were still speaking, I unlocked my door softly and crept out to the head of the stairs; and even as the front door was shut by James Perry and the carriage started, I ran down.

"Go in there at once, James, fasten the bolt of the big window, and if the blind is up, draw it down. Quick, at once," I told him, and followed him into the room.

Karl was still lying on the couch.

"Leave the window open, you," he said. "I like the air."

"I told him to shut it," I said, as I entered and James went out. "I can't stand the draught and can't bear the look of the dark."

He sat up when he heard my voice and stared at me.

"You afraid of the dark? You?"

"Have you been lying on the couch all the time?" I asked.

"Yes, Gustav fooled me about and tried to make me get up, but I wouldn't, but what has that to do with anything? You do nothing but bewilder me--and Gustav too, for that matter."

"It's time that some things were made clear," I replied. "How did you prevent them coming in search of me?"

"Very easily. I told him Madame had gone to bed, ill--ill with temper, because I was drunk, and swore I would do her some damage if she came near me. By the way, what _are_ you going to do?"

"I don't know. I've succeeded already in the chief part of my purpose, and am not ready yet for the next."

"What is your purpose?"

"I am going to tell you. One thing was to prevent your marrying Madame d'Artelle."

"You said that before when you wouldn't tell me the reason. What is the reason?"

"Because I know why the marriage was being forced."

"So do I--but it doesn't interest me. Although I meant to make Madame tell me many things."

"Probably I can tell you all you wish to know."

"Why do _you_ think I was to marry Madame d'Artelle?"

"To complete your ruin in the eyes of the country, to make you impossible as your father's heir in the event of the plans of the Patriots succeeding. Such a _mesalliance_, added to the reputation for dissoluteness and incapacity which you have made for yourself recently would have completed your overthrow."

"You don't spare me," he said, slowly.

"There is no need. I am speaking of--the past."

At the emphasis on the word his face brightened with almost eager delight. "What power you have to move me!" he exclaimed. "Yes, it is as you say--the past. And why are you doing all this?"

"You remember what you said yesterday in the Stadtwalchen--that probably I had a motive? You were right. I have."

"Tell me."

"Yes. I came here to Pesth for a purpose which has become all in all to me. I looked round for the best means of accomplis.h.i.+ng it. First I went to General von Erlanger--thinking to work through him. Then I saw and recognized the woman who was reputed to have so much influence over you--Madame d'Artelle. I knew I could get her into my power, and said to myself 'I can save Count Karl from her;' and I went to her. At her house I learnt the rest; that the plan was to force you to one side in favour of your brother. I said to myself again: 'If I save him from that scheme, he will have the power I need, and in common grat.i.tude will be impelled to help me.' I had not seen you then."

He listened attentively, but his look grew gradually solemn and gloomy; and he shrugged his shoulders as he answered: "I see. You are like the rest. Timber to hew and water to fetch--for yourself. Well? What difference could it make whether you had seen me or not?"

His manner nettled me. Why, I know not: but I replied sharply: "Did you think I was a philanthropist--with no other thought but to help you? Or that you were so weak and helpless that out of sheer pity a stranger would be drawn to help you?"

He bent his head upon his hand and sighed dejectedly. "Go on," he murmured. "If I'm disappointed, it hurts no one but myself."

"If I had seen you, I should not have attempted it. Of that I am quite sure."

"What a contemptible beast I must have seemed to you! I suppose you know how you're hurting me? Perhaps you have another motive. If I had----" and he slid his fingers into his pockets as if in search of his little phial.

"It's very brave, isn't it, to threaten me like that?" I said, curtly.

He drew his fingers out as though they had touched fire, and glanced up hurriedly at me.

"You don't know what a coward it makes of a man," he sighed. "You're making it harder for me. You're killing hope. A dangerous experiment with a patient like me. There's only a very short bridge between me and the past."

"A bridge you will never recross," I said, firmly.

He looked up and met my eyes. "Not if you'll stand between it and me, and help me a bit now and then. I'm going to play my part--but you mustn't kill my hopes, you know!"

"I shall help you all I can, because you cannot help me unless you do play it."

He frowned. "I'll play it, if it's only to help you. What is it you want?"

"A thing that may be very hard to do."

"I'll do it. I swear that. It will be an incentive to feel I can help you. It gives me a glimmer of hope again and strength, the mere thought of it. You don't know how I'd like to please you."

For a moment I was silent; and in the pause, my ears, which are very quick, caught a sound which made my heart beat rapidly. The faint crunch of a footstep on the gravel outside the window.