Truxton King: A Story of Graustark Part 34

Surely the well-laid plans of the Iron Count were being skilfully carried out!

All afternoon and evening men straggled in from the hills and surrounding country, apparently loth to miss the early excitement attending the ceremonies on the following day. Sullen strikers from the camps came down, cursing the company but drinking noisy toasts to the railroad and its future. The city by night swarmed with revelling thousands; the bands were playing, the crowds were singing, and mobs were drinking and carousing in the lower end. The cold, drizzling rain that began to blow across the city at ten o'clock did little toward checking the hilarity of the revellers. Honest citizens went to bed early, leaving the streets to the strangers from the hills and the river-lands. Not one dreamed of the ugly tragedy that was drawing to a climax as he slept the sleep of the just, the secure, the conscience-free.

At three o'clock in the morning word flew from brothel to brothel, from lodging house to lodging house, in all parts of the slumbering city; a thousand men crept out into the streets after the storm, all animated by one impulse, all obeying a single fierce injunction.

They were to find and kill a tall American! They were to keep him or his companion from getting in touch with the police authorities, or with the Royal Castle, no matter what the cost!

The streets were soon alive with these alert, skulking minions. Every approach to the points of danger was guarded by desperate, heavily armed scoundrels who would not have hesitated an instant if it came to their hands to kill Truxton King, the man with all their dearest secrets in his grasp. In dark doorways lounged these apparently couchless strangers; in areaways and alleys, on doorsteps they found shelter; in the main streets and the side streets they roamed. All the time they had an eager, evil eye out for a tall American and a slender girl!

Dangloss's lynx-eyed constabulary kept close watch over these restless, homeless strangers, constantly ordering them to disperse, or to "move on," or to "find a bed, not a doorstep." The commands were always obeyed; churlishly, perhaps, in many instances, but never with physical resistance.

At five o'clock, a stealthy whisper went the rounds, reaching the ear of every vagabond and cutthroat engaged in the untiring vigil. Like smoke they faded away. The silent watch was over.

The word had sped to every corner of the town that it was no longer necessary to maintain the watch for Truxton King. He was no longer in a position to give them trouble or uneasiness!

The twenty-sixth dawned bright and cool after the savage storm from the north. Brisk breezes floated down from the mountain peaks; an unreluctant sun smiled his cheeriest from his seat behind the hills, warmly awaiting the hour when he could peep above them for a look into the gala nest of humanity on the western slope. Everywhere there was activity, life, gladness and good humour.

Gaudy decorations which had been torn away by the storm were cheerfully replaced; workmen refurbished the public stands and the Royal box in the Plaza; bands paraded the avenues or gave concerts in Regengetz Circus; troops of mounted soldiers and constabulary patroled the streets. There was nothing to indicate to the munic.i.p.ality that the vilest conspiracy of the age--of any age--was gripping its tentacles about the city of Edelweiss, the smiling, happy city of mountain and valley. No one could have suspected guile in the laughter and badinage that masked the manner of the men who were there to spread disaster in the bunting-clad thoroughfares.

"I don't like the looks of things," said Baron Dangloss, time and again.

His men were never so alert as to-day and never so deceived.

"There can't be trouble of any sort," mused Colonel Quinnox. "These fellows are ugly, 'tis true, but they are not prepared for a demonstration. They are unarmed. What could they do against the troops, even though they are considerably depleted?"

"Colonel, we'll yet see the day when Graustark regrets the economy that has cut our little army to almost nothing. What have we now, all told?

Three hundred men in the Royal Guard. Less than six hundred in the fortress. I have a hundred policemen. There you are. To-day there are nearly two hundred soldiers off in the mountains on nasty business of one sort or another. 'Gad, if these ruffians from the railroad possessed no more than pistols they could give us a merry fight. There must be a thousand of them. I don't like it. We'll have trouble before the day's over."

"General Braze says his regulars can put down any sort of an uprising in the city," protested Quinnox. "In case of war, you know we have the twenty thousand reserves, half of whom were regulars until two years ago."

"Perfectly true. Quinnox, it's your duty to take care of the Prince.

You've done so in your family for fifteen generations. See to it that Prince Robin is well looked after to-day, that's all."

"Trust me for that, Baron," said Quinnox with his truest smile. Even Marlanx knew that he would have to kill a Quinnox before a Graustark ruler could be reached.

By eleven o'clock the streets in the neighbourhood of the Plaza were packed with people. All along Castle Avenue, up which the Prince was to drive in the coach of State, hung the proud, adoring burghers and their families: like geese to flock, like sheep to scatter. At twelve the Castle gates were to be thrown open for the brilliant cavalcade that was to pa.s.s between these cheering rows of people. In less than a quarter of an hour afterward, the Prince and his court, the n.o.ble ladies and gentlemen of Graustark, with the distinguished visitors from other lands, would pa.s.s into the great square through Regengetz Circus.

At the corner below the crowded Castle Cafe, in the north side of the square, which was now patroled by brilliant dragoons, two men met and exchanged the compliments of the day. One of them had just come up on horseback. He dismounted, leaving the animal in charge of an urchin who saw a gavvo in sight. This man was young and rather das.h.i.+ng in appearance. The other was older and plainly a citizen of some consequence.

"Well?" said the latter impatiently, after they had pa.s.sed the time of day for the benefit of the nearest on-lookers. The younger man, slapping his riding boot with his crop, led the way to the steps of a house across the sidewalk. Both had shot a swift, wary glance at one of the upper windows.

"Everything is ready. There will be no hitch," said the horseman in low tones.

"You have seen Spantz?"

"s.h.!.+ No names. Yes. The girl is ready."

"And the fortress?"

"Fifty men are in the houses opposite and others will go there--later on."

"We must keep the reserves out of the fortress. It would mean destruction if they got to the gun-rooms and the ammunition houses."

"Is he here?" with a motion toward the upper window.

"Yes. He came disguised as an old market woman, just after daybreak."

"Well, here's his horse," said the other, "but he'll have to change his dress. It isn't a side saddle." The young villain laughed silently.

"Go up now to the square, Peter. Your place is there."

If one had taken the time to observe, he might have seen that the young man wore his hat well forward, and that his face was unnaturally white.

We, who suspect him of being Peter Brutus, have reason to believe that there was an ugly cut on the top of his head and that it gave him exceeding pain.

Shortly after half past eleven o'clock certain groups of men usurped the positions in front of certain buildings on the south side of the square. A score here, a half score there, others below them. They favoured the shops operated by the friends of the Committee of Ten; they were the men who were to take possession of the rifles that lay hidden behind counters and walls. Here, there, everywhere, all about the city, other instructed men were waiting for the signal that was to tell them to hustle deadly firearms from the beds of green-laden market wagons. It was all arranged with deadly precision. There could be no blunder. The Iron Count and his deputies had seen to that.

Men were stationed in the proper places to cut all telephone and telegraph wires leading out of the city. Others were designated to hold the gates against fugitives who might seek to reach the troops in the hills.

Marlanx's instructions were plain, unmistakable. Only soldiers and policemen were to be shot; members of the royal household were already doomed, including the ministry and the n.o.bles who rode with the royal carriage.

The Committee of Ten had said that there would not be another ministry, never another Graustark n.o.bility; only the Party of Equals. The Iron Count had smiled to himself and let them believe all that they preached in secret conclave. But he knew that there would be another ministry, a new n.o.bility and a new ruler, and that there would be _no Committee of Ten!_

Two thousand crafty mercenaries, skilled rioters and fighters from all parts of the world stood ready in the glad streets of Edelweiss to leap as one man to the standard of the Iron Count the instant he appeared in the square after the throwing of the bomb. A well-organised, carefully instructed army of no mean dimensions, in the uniform of the lout and vagabond, would rise like a flash of light before the dazzled, panic-stricken populace, and Marlanx would be master. Without the call of drum or bugle his sinister soldiers of fortune would leap into positions a.s.signed them; in orderly, determined company front, led by chosen officers, they would sweep the square, the Circus and the avenues, up-town to the Castle, down-town to the fortress and the railway station, everywhere establis.h.i.+ng the pennant of the man who had been banished.

The present dynasty was to end at one o'clock! So said Marlanx! How could Dangloss or Braze or Quinnox say him nay? They would be dead or in irons before the first shock of disaster had ceased to thrill. The others? Pah! They were as chaff to the Iron Count.

The calm that precedes the storm fell upon the waiting throng; an ominous silence spread from one end of the avenue to the other. For a second only it lasted. The hush of death could not have been quieter nor more impressive. Even as people looked at each other in wonder, the tumult came to its own again. Afterward a whole populace was to recall this strange, depressing second of utter stillness; to the end of time that sudden pall was spoken of with bated breath and in awe.

Then, from the distant Castle came the sound of shouts, crawling up the long line of spectators for the full length of the avenue to the eager throng in Regengetz Circus, swelling and growing louder as the news came that the Prince had ridden forth from the gates. Necks were craned, rapt eyes peered down the tree-topped boulevard, glad voices cried out tidings to those in the background. The Prince was coming!

Bonny, adorable Prince Robin!

Down the broad avenue came the Royal Military Band, heading the brilliant procession. Banners were flying; gold and silver standards gleamed in the van of the n.o.ble cavalcade; brilliantly uniformed cuira.s.siers and dragoons on gaily caparisoned horses formed a gilded phalanx that filled the distant end of the street, slowly creeping down upon the waiting thousands, drawing nearer and nearer to the spot of doom.

A stately, n.o.ble, inspiring procession it was that swept toward the Plaza. The love of the people for their little Prince welled up and overflowed in great waves of acclamation. Pomp and display, gold and fine raiment were but the creation of man; Prince Robin was, to them, the choicest creation of G.o.d. He was their Prince!

On came the splendid phalanx of guardsmen, followed by rigid infantrymen in measured tread; the clattering of horses' hoofs, the beat of drums, the clanking of scabbards and the jangling of royal banners, rising even above the hum of eager voices. The great coach of gold, with its half score of horses, rolled sombrely beneath nature's canopy of green, surrounded on all sides by proud members of the Royal Guard. Word came down the line that the Prince sat alone in the rear seat of the great coach, facing the Prime Minister and Countess Halfont. Two carriages from the royal stables preceded the Prince's coach. In the first was the Duke of Perse and three fellow-members of the Cabinet; the second contained Baron Dangloss and General Braze. After the Prince came a score or more of rich equipages filled with the beauty, the n.o.bility, the splendour of this rich little court.

The curtains in a house at the corner of the square parted gently. A hawk-faced old man peered out upon the joyous crowd. His black eyes swept the scene. A grim smile crept into his face. He dropped the curtains and walked away from the window, tossing a cigarette into a grate on the opposite side of the room. Then he looked at his watch.

All of the bands in the square had ceased playing when the Castle gates were opened for the royal procession: only the distant, rythmic beat of a lively march came up from the avenue to the ears of this baleful old man in the second-story front room of the home of apothecary Boltz.

At the extreme outer side of Regengetz Circus a small group of men and women stood, white-faced and immovable, steadfastly holding a position in the front rank of spectators. Shrinking back among this determined coterie was the slender, shuddering figure of Olga Platanova, haggard-faced, but with the light of desperation in her eyes.

As the procession drew nearer, the companions of this wretched girl slunk away from her side, losing themselves in the crowd, leaving her to do her work while they sought distant spots of safety. Olga Platanova, her arms folded beneath the long red cloak she wore, remained where they had placed her and--waited!