Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch

So saying he carefully swung into the narrow way and soon accomplished the ascent. Passing under a portcullis as mediæval as that of any Rhenish castle, they stopped in an ancient, stone-flagged courtyard. On every side, thronging about them, they met the vengeful, scowling eyes of men in a frenzy of fear and hate, while a growling murmur of resentment greeted their ears as the mob recognized their liege lady apparently dead in the arms of a stranger. To their discipline as soldiers, for these men wore uniforms similar to those seen already at the inn, the two adventurers probably owed salvation from instant dismemberment. In their faces Calvert Carter read the unreasoning fury of their souls, experiencing his nearest approach to fear, yet he met them eye for eye.

Standing apart, his handsome boyish head hung in shame, as if ostracized for incompetency, stood a young fellow whom Carter recognized as the escort of the Lady Trusia. His face was pale and dejected. Apparently unaware of the presence of the strangers, he was fingering his revolver holster.

The heavy gate closed behind them with an ominous clang. A chill ran down Carter's spine. If bad came to worst he resolved to sell his life dearly, for murder electrified the air and was closing in around them from every side.

A wicket suddenly opened in the studded door of the castle before them. Two men stepped through it upon the broad flat stone of its only step.

Both were past middle age but vigorous looking. The first standing in front of and obscuring his companion was evidently a personage of exalted rank. His hair and long mustachios were silvery white, and the glance he shot from under his heavy brows was keen and comprehensive. He seemed a man accustomed to both camp and court. One glance at his carriage would have shown to the merest tyro that he was a soldier even had he not worn a black hussar uniform. He looked coldly around upon the impassioned throng which was quieted by the steely glitter in his disdainful eyes, and then, turning, said something to the abashed equerry. Without remonstrance, the young fellow drew out his revolver and handed it to a sergeant who immediately pocketed it.

Having quieted the disturbance, he for the first time became aware of its cause. A cry of mingled grief and rage burst from his lips. He started impulsively forward, fumbling at his sword hilt, but his companion laid a restraining hand upon his arm, coming into full view for the first time.

It was no other than the Gray Man of the inn, who now, with bent head and most deferential manner, addressed a few whispered words to the elderly noble. After a brief, inaudible conference the two descended from the step to advance through the menacing throng toward the automobile.

Mechanically, Carter, reaching back his free hand, opened the door at the back of the car. The veteran stopped within touching distance, not deigning to notice the action of invitation, and held out imperative arms for the young Duchess.

His voice rasped harshly on the hot courage of the American. "Canaille," he blurted apoplectically, "how dared you run down Her Grace with your cursed car? Your touch profanes her person. Surrender her instantly."

It was a blow in the face to Carter.

Though his blood was boiling, respect for the age of the man who addressed him restrained Calvert from voicing the hot retort which sprang to his lips or striking his adversary to the ground. His hands opened and closed tensely as he kept himself in check. Disregarding the curt command, Carter, still holding Trusia in his arms, leaped lightly from the car and would have carried her into the castle had not the elderly soldier barred his way. With face crimson every glistening hair seemed to flash the lightning of his unspeakable rage at such presumption.

"Monsieur," said Carter with level eyes, "let me pass. The lady is too ill for us to be bandying words. You are too old and too well supported for me to hope to obtain adequate satisfaction for your insult."

The other did not budge from the path, but reached out a peremptory hand which he laid on Trusia's shoulder.

"Give her to me, sir," he insisted, ignoring Carter's remarks entirely.

The Gray Man rubbed his hands together in open delight at the disfavor the two strangers were incurring and his cynical smile grew more evident every moment.

While an eye might wink the primitive man awoke in Calvert. He was prompted to fight for the woman he held as he stood measuring glances with his peremptory adversary. Then the folly of such resistance came to his mind, so with a sigh and a frown he permitted the other to take her from his arms. As he did so he felt not only that something intangible, delectable had been loosened from his clasp, but that its relinquishment had caused the life blood to move more sluggishly in his breast.

"We're up against it," whispered Carrick, who descending from the car had placed himself at his master's elbow for such eventualities as might arise.

Seemingly fearful of a conference between the two, the Gray Man gave a sudden order. Six men leaped from the hostile circle, and before there was an opportunity for resistance, Carter and Carrick were thrown to the ground and their arms were tightly bound to their sides.

The mocking face of the Gray Man regarded them as he bent over Carter's prostrate form.

"Get up," he said, touching the American ever so slightly with his toe.

"You shall pay for this," said the outraged Carter as he struggled to his feet.

"I am not indebted to you," was the sneering rejoinder, as, with the slightest of gestures, he intimated that the prisoners were to be conducted into the castle, through whose portal Her Grace of Schallberg was already being carried by the plethoric nobleman.

VII

A COOL RECEPTION

Before their eyes, accustomed to the brightness of early afternoon, in which all things were actively visible, could sufficiently adjust themselves to distinguish objects in the shadowy gloom, they were thrust into a room, the door of which was bolted after them, and they were left in utter darkness.

"You there, Carrick?" whispered Carter.

"'Ere, sir," came the reply from an invisible neighborhood. "I'm trussed up like a duck. These bloomin' cords are cuttin' my wrists. It seems to me, sir," he continued ruefully, "that if we 'ad wanted to be jugged, we could 'ave gotten the job done easier by styin' in New York. 'Don't like a man, – to jail with 'im,' seems to be these chaps' motto."

"We're evidently in the bad books of the Gray Man, at any rate, Carrick."

"I'm onto his gyme, sure's my name's Tod."

"What is it?"

"'E thinks we're spies."

Carter laughed incredulously. "He has put us in a good place, then. Can't gather much information in this tomb, that is certain. We're getting into their revolution by the back door, it seems."

"Talkin' about doors," Carrick's whisper radiated with excitement, "I'd take my oath that I saw one as we came in. It's in the wall to the left of the entrance and is slightly ajar."

"How close are you to me now?" The Cockney's shoulder touched his by way of reply. "It is this wall we are leaning against, then?"

"The syme, sir. If you move along to your right about six feet, you'll be right in front of it."

"We'll try our luck, anyhow," said Carter. "Next-door may not be so much infested with the darkness of the pit." Carefully groping in the indicated direction, they found the portal as Carrick had described it. Their hands being tightly tied, they had to shove it open with their shoulders. To their anxious ears it seemed impossible that the noise of its rusty hinges could not be heard on the topmost battlement. The room which they now entered was lighted by a single casement, high above their heads. Diagonally opposite, in the wall parallel to the one by which they stood, was another door, also open.

"Cinch," said Carrick, with a hopeful nod toward the possible avenue of escape.

"I don't know that," replied the other reflectively. "Suppose we do find our way out, how could we pass the sentries, videttes, and scouts who are scouring the country – or should be? We'd have to hide without the hope of assistance from strangers. What could we do with our hands tied? Mind you, I'm not discouraging escape if we can – I'm simply groping for a plan. Let's explore our quarters. It may help to know the lay of the place."

"Wyte a bit, sir," said Carrick, moving behind his master. "My teeth are strong. Mybe I can get your 'ands loose." Kneeling on the stone floor he applied himself vigorously to the task.

"Our friends," commented Carter, "evidently foresaw such an attempt and provided against it by shutting us up in the dark. How are you getting on?" He could feel the strenuous efforts of his chauffeur as the latter gnawed at the knot.

"Not at all, Mr. Carter. It's rawhide. The saliver from my mouth only mykes it swell. Of course that tightens the knot. It mykes it slimy, too, so's I carn't keep 'old of it." He scrambled to his feet with a hasty apology for his failure.

"Fortunately our feet are not hobbled and we're not blindfolded. Come on, we'll see what's beyond that door, my man," and Calvert proceeded cautiously toward the open entrance. With ears strained to bursting, they listened by it a breathless moment. No sound, no breath, no intuition of human proximity warned them that further progress was dangerous, so they passed the threshold into the third room. A sigh of relief came from Carter's lips as he noted that it, too, was vacant. The door to the cell beyond was likewise open. They advanced, therefore, through that and several successive cells, until they were confronted by a narrow, dark passageway, whose objective could not be discerned from where they stood.

Not knowing where the gloom would betray their feet, they stepped very cautiously as they explored the darkness before them. The better to guide himself, Carter kept his shoulder to the wall. He had not proceeded very far when his own weight, pushing against the masonry, swung him off into a narrow entrance at right angles to the main passage.

He drew back with a gasp. He found himself on the very brink of an uncurbed well. Gradually recovering himself from the involuntary start which had kept him from falling head-foremost into the opening, he leaned forward to investigate.

Far below he could see daylight, a patch of grass-grown earth, and the edge of a stable, – for a horse's head was thrust through an aperture. He turned to his companion.

"Careful, Carrick. I pretty nearly stepped into kingdom come. I think that door was purposely left open that we might commit involuntary suicide. There's a well here without a bottom. Goes down through the cliff to what is apparently the yard of the inn. It's like a shaft to the mines at home. Wonder what's it for?"

"Secret passage, sir; see that basket and rope," and Carrick indicated a huge car swinging in the gloom above their heads.

"That's how the Gray Man beat us to the castle without passing us on the road."

"Right," agreed Carrick.

"We can't profit by it now, worse luck, but it may come in useful in a pinch. Who knows? If we only had free use of our hands, now. Eh, Carrick?"