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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bda972a --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #65591 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/65591) diff --git a/old/65591-0.txt b/old/65591-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 1ad1ef5..0000000 --- a/old/65591-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,12730 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Pimpernel and Rosemary, by Emmuska Orczy - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Pimpernel and Rosemary - -Author: Emmuska Orczy - -Release Date: June 11, 2021 [eBook #65591] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images generously - made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIMPERNEL AND ROSEMARY *** - -PIMPERNEL AND -ROSEMARY - - - -BY - -BARONESS ORCZY - - - - - -NEW YORK - -GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -COPYRIGHT, 1925, - -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY - - - - -CONTENTS -PROLOGUE -CHAPTER I -CHAPTER II -CHAPTER III -CHAPTER IV -CHAPTER V -CHAPTER VI -CHAPTER VII -CHAPTER VIII -CHAPTER IX -CHAPTER X -CHAPTER XI -CHAPTER XII -CHAPTER XIII -CHAPTER XIV -CHAPTER XV -CHAPTER XVI -CHAPTER XVII -CHAPTER XVIII -CHAPTER XIX -CHAPTER XX -CHAPTER XXI -CHAPTER XXII -CHAPTER XXIII -CHAPTER XXIV -CHAPTER XXV -CHAPTER XXVI -CHAPTER XXVII -CHAPTER XXVIII -CHAPTER XXIX -CHAPTER XXX -CHAPTER XXXI -CHAPTER XXXII -CHAPTER XXXIII -CHAPTER XXXIV -CHAPTER XXXV -CHAPTER XXXVI -CHAPTER XXXVII -CHAPTER XXXVIII -CHAPTER XXXIX -CHAPTER XL -CHAPTER XLI -CHAPTER XLII -CHAPTER XLIII -CHAPTER XLIV -CHAPTER XLV -CHAPTER XLVI -CHAPTER XLVII -CHAPTER XLVIII - - - - -PIMPERNEL AND ROSEMARY - - -PROLOGUE - -§I - -This was in July 1916. - -The woman sat alone in the room downstairs, stitching, stitching, by the -flickering light of a small oil-lamp that stood on a ricketty deal table -close beside her. By the side of the lamp there were some half-dozen -khaki tunics, and the woman took up these tunics one by one, looked them -over and patted them and turned them about and about: then she took up -the scissors and undid a portion of the lining. After which she stitched -that portion of the lining up again, but not before she had inserted -something--something that was small and white and crisp and that she -took out from a fold in the bosom of her dress--between the lining and -the cloth. - -And this she did to each of the half dozen tunics in turn. - -The room was small and bare, the paper hung down from the walls in -strips, but it happened to have a ceiling that had only partially fallen -in during the last bombardment, and so it might be termed a luxurious -room, seeing that there were very few ceilings left in Guillaumet now. -There was no roof to the house, and not a pane of glass anywhere, but as -it was very hot this July, this was really an advantage. Quite a -pleasant draught stirred the tattered curtain that masked the broken -window and fanned the woman's dark, unruly hair about her damp forehead. - -She sat in ragged bodice and petticoat, her sleeves tucked up above her -elbows, her bodice open, showing throat and breasts that were not -unshapely. - -"You are kind to those English fellows, Alice," a dry, sarcastic voice -said suddenly, close behind her. - -The woman gave a start, and the hand that patted and folded the last of -the tunics shook ever so slightly. Her pale, wan face looked almost -ashen in hue in the dim light of the lamp. She turned and looked at the -newcomer, a tall, lean fellow with touzled dark hair and unshaven chin, -who lolled under the lintel of the door, chewing the stump of a cigar -and gazing at her with a kind of indulgently sarcastic expression in his -deep-set eyes. At sight of him she seemed reassured. It was only -Lucien--Lucien the vagrant, the picker-up of unconsidered trifles, -attached as porter to one of the American hospitals somewhere close by. -So everybody round about here understood. But no one ever inquired -further than that; everyone was too busy to trouble about other people's -affairs; and Lucien was useful and willing. Though he had a game leg he -would do anything he was asked--run errands, repair a derelict car, -clean boots, anything. Lucien l'Américain they called him. "The Yank" -the English flying boys from the aerodrome at Guillaumet had nicknamed -him. - -And they rather liked the Yank. Though he was as ugly as sin, swarthy, -most days unshaved and dirty, he was very amusing, had a fund of good -stories to relate, and was always ready for a gamble or a bit of fun. He -seemed plentifully supplied with money, too--tips, probably, which he -collected from the French or English officers over at the hospital--and -was very free with it in the way of drinks and cigarettes for the boys. -Latterly his open courtship of Alice Gerbier had caused considerable -amusement in Guillaumet. Alice was a good sort, of course, but so jolly -ugly, and not so young as she once was. It was difficult to imagine any -man wanting to make love to Alice Gerbier. But Lucien l'Américain must -have done it after a fashion of his own, before Alice became his abject -slave, fetching and carrying for him, working her fingers to the bone, -and sitting up half the night sewing shirts and knitting socks for him. -He took it all as a matter of course, and treated her as if she were so -much dirt. - -"The only way to treat women," he would remark cynically, whenever his -harshness toward poor Alice roused the indignation of one of the men. - -It was a curious courtship, and the boys who were quartered in old -mother Gerbier's house often wondered how it would end. Poor Alice! It -was her one chance. If she lost this undemonstrative admirer of hers she -would never get another. No doubt she felt that, poor thing, for at -times her eyes would look pathetically wistful, when she caught sight of -Lucien making himself agreeable to other women. - -Lucien l'Américain lolled into the room and came to a halt close beside -Alice's chair; with the air of a condescending pasha he patted her thin -shoulders. - -"You are kinder to these fellows," he said, "than you are to me. Why the -dickens you should work so hard for them I don't know. You look -dog-tired, and it's swelteringly hot to-night. We shall have a storm, I -think." - -"The boys were saying they thought a storm was coming on," Alice said in -a tired, toneless voice, "and they were hoping it would soon be over." - -"Off as usual in the morning, I suppose," Lucien remarked curtly. - -The woman nodded. - -"And like a good soul you are putting a few stitches to their clothes, -eh?" the man went on, and jerked a grimy thumb in the direction of the -pile of tunics. - -"There's no one else to do it for them," the woman rejoined in the same -toneless, listless voice. - -"Rather a futile task," he rejoined drily. "What is a hole more or less -in a tunic? How many of these fellows will come back from their raid -to-morrow do you suppose? Most of these carefully mended tunics will -supplement the meagre wardrobes of our friend Fritz over the way, I'm -thinking." - -"Perhaps," the woman assented with a weary sigh. - -"How many of them are going to-morrow?" he asked. - -"I don't know. All the men in this house are going." - -"And how many will come back do you think?" - -The woman shuddered and pressed her thin, colourless lips more tightly -together. The Yank gave a harsh laugh and shrugged his lean shoulders. - -"These English flying men are very daring," he said lightly; "even Fritz -will admit that much. They'll take the maddest risks! I don't think that -you will see many of these tunics back here at close of day to-morrow." - -The woman, however, remained obstinately silent. Whilst Lucien threw -himself into a broken-down armchair that groaned under his weight, she -rose and gathered up the pile of tunics. - -"What are you doing with the things?" he asked querulously. "Can't you -sit still for once and talk to me?" - -He stretched out a long, muscular arm, succeeded in grabbing her dress, -and drew her with sudden violence towards him. She tried to resist and -to clutch the tunics tightly against her breast, but they fell out of -her arms in a heap on the floor. She would have stooped to pick them up, -but in a moment Lucien had her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn and -to look at him. - -"You are kinder to those fellows," he reiterated with his harsh laugh, -"than you are to me. Leave those things alone, I say, and get me -something to drink. What have you got in the house?" - -But Alice for once was obstinate. As a rule even an unspoken wish from -Lucien was a law unto her, but this time she wrenched herself free from -his grasp, and getting down on one knee she started picking up the -tunics from the floor. Lucien watched her for a moment or two through -half-closed lids, with an undefinable expression on his lean, swarthy -face, and a strange line, almost of cruelty, around his firm lips. -Apparently he was not accustomed to seeing his whims thwarted, and no -doubt he was impelled by the very human desire to probe his power upon -this fond and foolish woman, for suddenly he jumped up, gave the tunics -that were still on the floor a vigorous kick which sent them flying to -the farthest corner of the room, and roughly grabbed the others which -Alice was hugging to her breast. - -"I told you," he said with a savage oath, "to leave those things alone -and to get me a drink." - -For the space of a few seconds, Alice still hesitated; she looked up at -him with a pathetic expression of wistfulness and subjection, while she -wiped the palms of her moist hands against her tattered apron. Lucien's -eyes, meeting hers, lost their savage gleam; he looked almost ashamed of -his brutality. - -"That's all right, my girl," he said with an indulgent smile. "I didn't -mean to be unkind. Get me a drink, there's a good soul. Where did you -want to put these things?" he added, as he condescended to stoop and -collect the scattered tunics. - -Alice's wan face at once beamed with a joy as pathetic as her anxiety -had been just now. She even contrived to smile. - -"Never mind about them, Lucien," she said, and with rather jerky -movements she wiped the top of the table with her apron. Then she turned -towards the door: "I'll put the things away presently. I can get you a -bottle of that wine you brought in the other day. Would you like that?" - -"Yes, I should," the Yank rejoined. "And then you can come and sit still -for a bit. That eternal stitch-stitching of yours gets on my nerves. -Now," he went on, and, having collected all the tunics, he placed them -back upon the table, "why you wanted to fiddle with these tunics I can't -imagine. They can't have needed mending. Why, they are practically new." - -He turned them over one by one: they were as he said, almost -new--beautiful khaki tunics, smart and well-cut, such as the British -government loved to serve out to its magnificent airmen. Then, as Alice -had suddenly come to a halt by the door, he half-turned to her, and -added in his usual harsh, peremptory tone: - -"Are you getting me that wine or are you not?" For a few seconds after -Alice had finally left the room Lucien l'Américain remained standing by -the table, his grimy hand upon the pile of tunics, motionless, his eyes -fixed upon the narrow doorway through which Alice had disappeared, his -ear bent, listening to her retreating footsteps. As soon as these had -died away down the stone steps which led to the cellar his whole -attitude changed. He threw the stump of his cigar away and, picking up -one of the tunics, he felt it all over scrupulously--all over, and with -both hands, until in one spot his sensitive fingers felt something that -had a slightly crackling, crisp sound about it when handled. - -Whereupon Lucien l'Américain drew a deep breath, and in his deep-set -eyes there came a quick flash of triumph. One by one, more quickly now -and more surely he picked up the tunics and felt each one in turn all -over until his fingers encountered the something crisp and crackling -which appeared hidden between the cloth and the lining, and while he did -so his face, never prepossessing, looked positively hideous; a cruel, -almost animal look distorted it, the lips drew back against the gums, -showing white teeth, sharp and gleaming like those of a wolf. - -"That's it, is it?" he muttered once or twice. "Not bad for a woman. Did -she think of it, I wonder." - -Suddenly his sharp ears detected the sound of Alice's tired footstep -coming up the cellar stairs. He laid the tunics back upon the table in a -neat pile, then he went to the window, drew the curtain slightly aside -and gave a low, prolonged whistle, which was almost immediately answered -by another from somewhere out in the darkness. - -Alice came in, carrying a bottle of wine and a mug. There was a scared -look in her eyes as she entered, and her glance swept quickly, anxiously -round the room first and then over the pile of tunics. Seeing them -neatly folded, she appeared relieved, and set the bottle and mug down -upon the table. She took a corkscrew from the table-drawer and proceeded -to draw the cork, whilst Lucien watched her with a smile round his lips -which the girl hardly dared to interpret. Now he lolled across to her. -His hands were in his pockets. She had succeeded in drawing the cork, -and was pouring the wine into the mug, when with a swift movement -Lucien's arm shot out and closed round her throat, whilst his other hand -was clapped firmly against her mouth. - -She had not the time to scream. The bottle of wine fell out of her hand, -crashing on the floor and the wine flowed in a stream along the cracks -of the worm-eaten wood in the direction of the door. Her eyes, dilated -with horror, stared into vacancy, her hands with fingers outspread were -stretched out straight before her. Lucien l'Américain never uttered a -word; he just held her in a grip of iron, smothering any attempt she -might make to scream. Less than twenty seconds went by whilst he held -the woman thus, and she passed from an excess of horror into -semi-consciousness. Then from the outer passage there came the sound of -stealthy footsteps, and the next moment two men dressed in rough peasant -clothes came into the room. Lucien l'Américain motioned to them with a -glance, and silently, almost noiselessly, they closed in around the -woman and in a moment had her secure between them and marched her out of -the room, she going like a sleepwalker with eyes closed and lips tightly -pressed together, her face a reflex of the horror which had Invaded her -soul. - -Lucien l'Américain, left alone in the room, took up one of the tunics -and with Alice's scissors he carefully undid a few stitches in the -lining. His deft fingers then groped in the aperture, until they came in -contact with something crisp and crackling, which he drew out and -examined. It was a small sheet of thin paper closely covered with minute -handwriting, and then folded into as small a compass as had been -possible. By the flickering light of the oil-lamp the Yank tried to -decipher some of the writing; his face had become expressionless as -marble. It seemed as if with the unmasking of the woman, his interest in -the event had ceased. - -The paper contained information which would have been of enormous -importance to the Germans. Having skimmed the written matter through, -Lucien folded up the paper again and slipped it in a pocket-book, which -he carried next to his skin. After that he took up the tunics one by -one, and still with the aid of Alice's scissors he extracted the same -message which was concealed in the selfsame way between the lining and -the cloth of each tunic, and these also he put away in his pocket-book. - -He had only just finished his task when from down the village street -there rose the joyful sound of lusty throats singing "Tipperary!" and a -minute or two later half a dozen boys in khaki made noisy irruption into -the house. - -At once there was loud shouting of "Alice! Alice, where art thou? What -ho, my Alice!" And one of the boys started singing "The Roses of -Picardy." - -"Hallo, Yank!" came from another of them, who had just caught sight of -Lucien. "What the----have you done with Alice?" - -"She'll be back directly," Lucien shouted in response. "I've promised to -meet her, so can't stop. S'long!" - -He dashed out of the house, and in a moment the darkness had swallowed -him up. - - - - -§2 - - -Three days later. Half an hour after the break of dawn. In a moderately -well-furnished room in the town hall of Lille an elderly man was sitting -over a scanty _petit-déjeuner._ He had an intellectual face, with -high-bred features and sparse grey hair carefully brushed across his -cranium so as to hide the beginnings of baldness. From time to time he -cast eager eyes at the door opposite to where he was sitting or anxious -ones at the clock upon the mantel-shelf. - -Suddenly his whole face brightened up with eager expectancy. He had just -perceived the sound of a harsh voice coming from the next room, and -demanding peremptorily to speak with M. de Kervoisin. - -A servant entered, but de Kervoisin was too impatient to allow him to -speak. - -"Number Ten is it?" he queried sharply, and at once added, "Show him -in." - -A tall, ragged, uncouth, unshaved creature sauntered into the room, with -hands in pockets and a chawed cigar stump in the corner of his mouth. -Strangely enough the elegant high-bred M. de Kervoisin received this -extraordinary visitor with the utmost courtesy. He rose to greet him, -shook him warmly by the hand, offered him a chair, coffee, liqueurs, -cigarettes. The newcomer declined everything except the armchair, into -which he threw himself with obvious satisfaction. - -"Tired, my friend?" M. de Kervoisin queried amiably. - -"Of course," the other replied curtly. "I have been up nearly two -hours." - -"The want of sleep," M. de Kervoisin murmured with an engaging smile. -Then he added drily: "And I suppose some emotion . . ." - -"Emotion?" the other broke in with a harsh laugh. "None, I assure you, -save what is pleasurable." - -"What? To see a woman shot?" - -He who went by the strange appellation of Number Ten threw aside the -chawed stump of his cigar, then he carefully selected a cigarette from -M. de Kervoisin's case, and lit it leisurely before he replied: - -"Yes, my friend . . . to see a woman shot. Have you never seen a human -creature shot or hung?" - -"No, never!" M. de Kervoisin replied with a shudder. "And I hope I never -may." - -"It is a thrill well worth experiencing," the other remarked and blew -rings of cigarette smoke through his pursed lips. "Yes," he went on -drily, "well worth experiencing." - -"Ah!" M. de Kervoisin rejoined with a sigh, "you English are -astonishing." - -"Yes, I dare say we seem so to you," Number Ten retorted. "But we do not -shoot women." - -"So I understand. The danger of spies is not quite so acute with you as -it is with us; and this woman was really dangerous." - -"She was dangerous because she was so extraordinarily clever. In all my -experience I never came across anything quite so ingenious as the way -she went to work." - -"She worked from the British aerodrome, I think you told me, behind -Guillaumet?" - -"And calculated that out of every half-dozen English machines that went -up, at least three would come down behind the German lines: so she -inserted all the information she could get in the linings of the -airmen's tunics. A clever idea," Number Ten added thoughtfully, "and in -the end I only discovered the trick by accident." - -He smiled, and stared for a second straight out before him, and as he -did so memory brought back vividly the picture of the tumble-down house -at Guillaumet, and Alice Gerbier sitting there, stitching, stitching -with the pile of tunics before her, and he himself--disguised as a -loafer, commonly called Lucien l'Américain, for no particular reason, -as he certainly was not American--hanging round the woman for weeks, -vaguely suspecting at first, then certain, then wondering how the trick -was done, the clever trick whereby so much valuable information was -conveyed to the Germans, information that could only have been obtained -in the neighbourhood of the English aerodrome. And he saw himself, the -spy-tracker, the secret-service agent, carefully setting the trap which -had ensnared so many women ever since the world began, the trap set with -a bait to lure a woman's vanity, and an old maid's passionate longing -for love. And to these memory pictures another now was added, the -picture of Alice Gerbier in the early dawn in the prison yard of Lille, -with her back to the wall, and a handkerchief over her eyes, and a -platoon of soldiers with rifles raised. And gradually as these pictures -passed before his mind's eye, became strangely vivid and then passed by -again, the man's expressive face became hideous in its aspect of -ruthless cruelty. The eyes narrowed till they were mere slits, the lips -curled up over the gums displaying a row of teeth pointed and sharp as -those of a wolf. - -A discreet cough from M. de Kervoisin roused him from his meditation. - -"You are certainly a prince amongst secret service agents, my friend," -M. de Kervoisin said suavely. "I don't know what we should do without -you. But Alice Gerbier certainly represents your crowning triumph." - -Number Ten gave a harsh laugh. - -"It certainly was a thrill," he said coolly, "well worth experiencing." - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -To Peter Blakeney, Rosemary Fowkes' engagement to his friend Tarkington -seemed not only incredible, but impossible. The end of the world! Death! -Annihilation! Hell! Anything! - -But it could not be true. - -He was playing at Lord's that day; Tarkington told him the news at the -luncheon interval, and Peter had thought for the moment that for once in -his life Tarkington must be drunk. But Tarkington looked just as he -always did--grave, impassive, and wonderfully kind. Indeed, he seemed -specially kind just then. Perhaps he knew. Perhaps Rosemary had told -him. Women were so queer. Perhaps she did tell Tarkington that he, -Peter, had once been fool enough to---- - -Anyway, Tarkington was sober, and very grave and kind, and he told Peter -in his quiet, unemotional way that he considered himself the happiest -man on God's earth. Of course he was, if Rosemary----But it was -impossible! Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE! - -That afternoon Peter hit many boundaries, and at the end of play was 148 -not out. - -In the evening he went to the Five Arts' Ball at the Albert Hall. He -knew that Rosemary would be there; he had designed the dress she would -be wearing, and Tarkington told him, sometime during that afternoon, -that he was taking his fiancée to the ball. - -His fiancée! Dear old Tarkington! So kind, so unemotional! Rosemary's -husband presently! Ye gods! - -At the Albert Hall ball Peter wore that beautiful Hungarian national -dress that had belonged to his grandfather, a wonderful dress of -semi-barbaric splendour, with the priceless fifteenth-century jewellery -which he had inherited from his mother--the buttons, the sword-belt, the -clasp for the mantle--they had been in the Heves family ever since it -was fashioned by Florentine workmen imported into Hungary by a mediæval -queen. Peter dressed himself with the greatest care. If a thing was -worth doing at all, it was worth doing well, and Rosemary had said once -that she would like to see him in the dress. - -But during that hot afternoon at Lord's, while he dressed, and now -inside the crowded, stuffy Albert Hall, Peter did not feel as if he were -really alive. He did not feel like a personage in a dream, he only felt -that the world as he had seen it since luncheon time, was not a real -world. Someone had invented something altogether new in opposition to -the Creator, and he, Peter, being no longer alive, was permitted a -private view of the novelty. - -It appeared to be a very successful novelty. At any rate, the numberless -puppets who raised shrill voices so that Peter might hear what they -said, all declared that this ball was incontestably the most successful -function of the season. - -Just as in the real world, Peter thought, where every function is always -incontestably the most successful function of the season. - -Other shrill voices declared in Peter's hearing that this function had -been more than usually well-managed. It had been splendidly advertised, -and the tickets had sold like the proverbial hot cakes. - -And Peter was quite sure that somewhere in the dead, forgotten world of -long ago he had heard such an expression of opinion over and over again. - -Anyway, in this Albert Hall of the newly invented world things were much -as they had been in the old. It was crowded. At one time there was -hardly room enough to move, let alone to dance. Certain contortions of -the body being called dancing, now as then, and certain demoniacal -sounds made on hellish instruments by gentlemen of colour being called -dance music, the floor of the hall, raised to the level of the -lower-tier boxes, was given over to the performance of various gyrations -more or less graceful, whilst Peter looked on, strangely familiar with -this new world of unrealities, which had only been invented a few hours -ago, when Tarkington told him of his engagement to Rosemary Fowkes. - -He knew just how it would be! - -In to-morrow's issue of the _Morning Star_ or the _Talk of the Town_, -the thousands who gyrated here or who looked on at the gyrations of -others would be referred to as being "also present." - -He, Peter Blakeney, the famous cricketer and distinguished V.C., would -be referred to as being "also present," and there would be a photograph -of him with a set grin on his face and his eyes staring out of his head -like those of a lunatic at large, in all the illustrated weeklies. This -was as it should be. It was well worth paying two guineas (supper -included) for the privilege of being referred to as "also present" in -this distinguished company of puppets that included both home and -foreign royalties. - -Of course there were others, the select few who would be referred to in -the columns of the _Morning Star_ or the _Talk of the Town_ with -charming familiarity as Lord Algy Fitznoodle, or Miss Baby Tomkins, or -simply as Lady Poots or Lord Tim. - -"While I was chatting with Lady Poots, etc." - -"Lady Vi Dartmouth, with her beautiful hair shingled, etc., etc." - -"The Marchioness of Flint came with her girls, etc." - -All of which Peter knew by intuition would be vastly interesting to the -suburban little madams who read the _Talk of the Town_ in this world of -unrealities, and he was willing to leave it at that, well knowing that -the puppets named Miss Baby or Lady Vi would not think of being absent -from the Five Arts' Ball. It was the acme of smartness, of Bohemian -smartness, that is to say: the smartness of Chelsea and fashionable -studios, which is so much smarter than the smartness of Mayfair. - -And Peter--a kind of disembodied Peter--watched the throng. Ye gods! -what a motley and a medley! - -Polychromatic and kaleidoscopic, iridescent and prismatic, ceaselessly -on the move, mercurial, restless, ever stirring, fluttering fans, -fingering clothes, adjusting coiffures, lapels, frills, hair-ornaments -and feathers! And talking! Talking incessantly, with voices hard and -high-pitched trying to rise above other voices that were harder and -higher of pitch. Dazzling to eye and ear; exciting to nerves and sense, -the atmosphere a mixture of odours: of powders, cosmetics, perfumes, -heat, gas, and a score of other indefinable scents. - -The picture quite brilliant; not without touches of unconscious humour: -Marie Antoinette flirting with Robespierre, Russian moujik in familiar -converse with a jewelled Catherine, Queen Elizabeth condescending to -pre-historic man. And then Pierrots, Pierrots everywhere, of every -conceivable motley and shape. Blue Pierrots and yellow Pierrots! white -or black, purple with orange frills, and orange with purple frills, -black skull caps and tall white peaks. Pierrots of satin, and Pierrots -of gingham! Cool and active! Ye gods! how active! Bohemian smartness, it -seems, demanded that its Pierrots should be bright and amusing and -active. - -From his point of vantage on the floor of the hall Peter scanned the -semicircle of boxes where sat more puppets, hundreds of them, watching -the thousands down below. - -What was the good of them? Peter thought. Why had God made them? What -use were they in this new world which some wanton sprite had fashioned -in opposition to the Creator? They fluttered their fans, they laughed, -they jabbered, and did not seem to know that they, just like Peter, had -become unreal and disembodied at the precise moment when Rosemary Fowkes -promised to become Jasper Tarkington's wife. - -And then suddenly the puppets all faded away. The new world ceased to -be, there was no hall, no dancing, no music, no more puppets, no more -Pierrots. There was only Rosemary, and she came up to Peter and said -quite gaily, naturally, in a voice that belonged to the old world, not -the new: - -"Won't you ask me to dance, Peter?" - -After that--well, dancing permits, necessitates, holding the partner in -one's arm. And Peter danced with Rosemary. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -Lady Orange always had a box for the big functions at the Albert Hall. -It was chic, it was right and it was convenient. It gave her an -opportunity of entertaining distinguished foreigners _de passage_ in -London in a manner that was both original and expensive. - -Lady Orange prided herself on her internationalism, and delighted to -gather distinguished foreigners about her; members and attachés of -minor embassies invariably graced her dinner parties. She often referred -to her attainments as "bi-lingual," and in effect she spoke French with -a perfect Geneva accent. She thought it _bon ton_ to appear bored at -every social function except those which took place at her house in -Belgrave Square, and now when a procession made up of bedizened unities -marched in double file past her box she remarked languidly: - -"I think they show a singular lack of imagination. One would have -thought Chelsea artists would have invented something unique, -picturesque for themselves." - -"They only thought of comfort, perhaps. But it is they who gave the -impetus to the imagination of others. Not?" - -The man who sat next to Lady Orange spoke with certain gestures of hands -and arms that would have proclaimed him a foreigner even apart from his -appearance--the somewhat wide expanse of white waistcoat, the -ultra-smart cut of his evening clothes, the diamond ring on his finger. -He had large, mellow dark eyes, which he used with great effect when he -spoke to women, and full lips half-concealed under a heavy black -moustache. He had a soft, rich voice, and spoke English with that -peculiar intonation which is neither Italian nor Slav, but has the -somewhat unpleasant characteristics of both; and he had large, -well-shaped, podgy hands all covered with a soft dark down that extended -almost to his finger-tips. - -Lady Orange, who had pale, round eyes and arched eyebrows that lent to -her face a perpetual look of surprise, gazed intelligently about her. - -"Ah, _oui!_" she sighed vaguely. "_Vous avez raison!_" - -She would have liked to continue the conversation in French, but General -Naniescu was equally determined to speak English. - -As Lady Orange was going to Bucharest shortly, and desired an -introduction to august personages there, she thought it best to humour -the general's whim. - -"How well you express yourself in our barbarous tongue, M. le -Général," she said kindly. - -"Ah, madame," the general replied, with an expressive shrug, "we in our -country are at such disadvantage in the social life of great cities like -London and Paris, that we must strive to win our way by mastering the -intricacies of language, so as to enable us to converse freely with the -intelligentsia of the West who honour us by their gracious acceptance." - -"You are a born courtier, Monsieur le Général," Lady Orange rejoined -with a gracious smile. "Is he not, _ma chère?_" And with the edge of -her large feather fan she tapped the knees of an elderly lady who sat -the other side of M. le Général. - -"Oh, Mademoiselle Fairfax was not listening to my foolish remarks," -General Naniescu said, turning the battery of his mellow eyes on the -somewhat frumpish old maid. - -"No," Miss Fairfax admitted drily. "Monsieur de Kervoisin here on my -left was busy trying to convert me to the dullness of Marcel Proust. He -is not succeeding." - -"Ah!" exclaimed Naniescu suavely, "you English ladies! You are so -intellectual and so deliciously obstinate. So proud of your glorious -literature that even the French modernists appear poor in your sight." - -"There, you see, _ma chère_," Lady Orange put in with her habitual -vagueness, "always the courtier." - -"How can one help being a courtier, dear lady, when for hours one is -thrown in a veritable whirlpool of beauty, brilliance and wit? Look at -this dazzling throng before us," the general went on, with a fine sweep -of his arm. "The eyes are nearly blinded with its magnificence. Is it -not so, my dear Kervoisin?" - -This last remark he made in French, for M. de Kervoisin spoke not a word -of English. He was a small, spare man, with thin grey beard neatly -trimmed into a point, and thin grey hair carefully arranged so as to -conceal the beginnings of baldness. Around his deep-set grey eyes there -was a network of wrinkles; they were shrewd, piercing eyes, with little, -if any, softness in them. M. de Kervoisin, whose name proclaimed him a -native of Brittany, was financial adviser to a multiplicity of small, -newly created states, all of whom were under the tutelage of France. His -manner was quiet and self-effacing when social or political questions -were on the tapis, and he only appeared to warm up when literature or -the arts were being discussed. He fancied himself as a Mæcenas rather -than a financier. Marcel Proust was his hobby for the moment, because -above all things he prided himself on modernity, and on his desire to -keep abreast of every literary and artistic movement that had risen in -the one country that he deemed of intellectual importance, namely his -own. - -For the moment he felt vaguely irritated because Miss Fairfax--a -seemingly unpretentious and socially unimportant elderly female--refused -to admit that there was not a single modern English prose writer that -could compare with Proust. To the general's direct challenge he only -replied drily. - -"Very brilliant indeed, my good Naniescu; but, you know, I have seen so -much in my day that sights like these have no longer the power to stir -me." - -"I am sorry for you," Miss Fairfax retorted with old-maidish bluntness. -"I have been about the world a good deal myself, but I find it always a -pleasure to look at pretty people. Look at Rosemary Fowkes now," she -went on, addressing no one in particular, "did you ever in all your life -see anything so beautiful?" - -She made lively little gestures of greeting, and pointed to a couple on -the dancing-floor below. Lady Orange turned her perpetually surprised -gaze in that direction, and General Naniescu uttered an exaggerated cry -of admiration. Even M. de Kervoisin appeared interested. - -"Who is the lady?" he asked. - -"She is Rosemary Fowkes," Miss Fairfax said, "one of the most -distinguished----" - -"Ah! I entreat you, mademoiselle, tell us no more," the general -exclaimed with mock protest; "a lovely woman needs no other label but -her own loveliness. She is distinguished amongst all because she is -beautiful. What else should a woman be when she is the finest work the -Creator ever produced--an enchantress?" - -"Well," Miss Fairfax rejoined dryly, "I would scold you, general, for -those lyrical effusions if they were intended for anybody else. Pretty -women are usually silly, because from childhood upwards they have been -taught to use their intellect solely for purposes of self-contemplation -and self-admiration. But Rosemary Fowkes is an exception. She is not -only beautiful, but brilliantly clever. Surely you remember those -articles in the _International Review_ on the subject of 'The Evils of -Bureaucracy in the Near East'? They were signed 'Uno,' and many doubted -at the time that the writer was a woman, and a young one at that." - -"Uno?" General Naniescu exclaimed, and threw a significant glance at M. -de Kervoisin, who in his turn uttered an astonished "Ah!" and leaned -over the edge of the box in order to take a closer view of the lady -under discussion. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -Indeed no lyrical effusion would seem exaggerated if dedicated to -Rosemary Fowkes. She was one of those women on whom Nature seemed to -have showered every one of her most precious gifts. There are few words -that could adequately express the peculiar character of her beauty. She -was tall, and her figure was superb; but there are many tall, -beautifully built women. She had hair the colour of horse-chestnuts when -first they fall out of their prickly green cases, and her skin was as -delicately transparent as egg-shell china; but Rosemary's charm did not -lie in the colour of her hair or the quality of her skin. It lay in -something more undefinable. Perhaps it was in her eyes. Surely, surely -it was in her eyes. People were wont to say they were "haunting," like -the eyes of a pixie or of a fairy. They were not blue, nor were they -green or grey, but they were all three at times, according as Rosemary -was pleased or amused or thoughtful; and when she was pleased or amused -she would screw up those pixie eyes of hers, and three adorable little -lines that were not wrinkles would form on each side of her nose, like -those on the nose of a lion cub. - -Her chestnut-coloured hair lay in luscious waves over her forehead and -round her perfectly shaped little head, and when she smiled her small -white teeth would gleam through her full, parted lips. - -Eschewing the fantastic pierrot costumes of the hour, Rosemary Fowkes -was dressed in a magnificent Venetian gown of the fifteenth century, the -rich crimson folds of which set off her stately figure as well as the -radiant colouring of her skin and hair. She wore a peculiarly shaped -velvet cap, the wings of which fastened under her chin, thus -accentuating the perfect oval of the face and the exquisite contour of -forehead and cheeks. - -"A woman so beautiful has no right to be clever," General Naniescu -remarked with an affected sigh. "It is not fair to the rest of her sex." - -"Miss Fowkes is certainly very gifted," Lady Orange remarked drily, her -enthusiasm apparently being less keen on the subject of Rosemary than -that of Miss Fairfax. - -"And who is the happy man," M. de Kervoisin put in his dry, ironic -tone, "with whom the enchantress is dancing?" - -"Peter Blakeney," Miss Fairfax replied curtly. - -"_Qui ça_, Peter Blakeney?" - -"Peter Blakeney, Peter Blakeney! He does not know who is Peter -Blakeney!" Lady Orange exclaimed, and for this supreme moment she -departed from her habitual vagueness of attitude, whilst her glance -became more markedly astonished than before. - -Two or three young people who sat at the back of the box tittered -audibly, and gazed at General Naniescu as if he were indeed an -extraordinary specimen lately presented to the Zoo. - -"Remember, dear lady," General Naniescu put in, wholly unperturbed by -the sensation which his innocent query had provoked, "that M. de -Kervoisin and I are but strangers in your wonderful country, and that no -doubt it is our want of knowledge of your language that causes us to -seem ignorant of some of your greatest names in literature or the Arts." - -"It is not a case of literature or the Arts, _mon cher général_," Lady -Orange condescended to explain. "Peter Blakeney is the finest -cover-point England ever had." - -"Ah! political sociology?" M. de Kervoisin queried blandly. - -"Political what?" - -"The Secret Points, no doubt you mean, dear lady?" the general went on, -politely puzzled. "Advanced Communism, what? M. Blakeney is then a -disciple of Lenin?" - -"I don't know what you are talking about," Lady Orange sighed. "Peter -Blakeney is the finest cricketer Eton and Oxford have ever produced." - -"Cricket!" exclaimed the general, while M. de Kervoisin uttered a -significant "Ah!" - -There was a moment of quite uncomfortable silence. Naniescu was -thoughtfully stroking his luxurious moustache, and a gentle, indulgent -smile hovered round the thin lips of M. de Kervoisin. - -"It is interesting," Naniescu said suavely after a moment or two, "to -see two such world-famous people given over to the pleasure of the -dance." - -"They are excellent dancers, both of them," Lady Orange assented -placidly, even though she had a vague sense of uneasiness that the two -foreigners were laughing surreptitiously at something or at her. - -"And we may suppose," the general continued, "that a fine young man like -Mr. Blakeney has some other mission in life than the playing of -cricket." - -"He hasn't time for anything else," came in indignant protest from a -young lady with shingled hair. "He plays for England, in Australia, -South Africa, all over the world. Isn't that good enough?" - -"More than enough, dear lady," assented Naniescu with a bland smile. -"Indeed, it were foolish to expect the greatest--what did you call -him?--secret point to waste his time on other trifling matters." - -"Cover-point, _mon général_," Lady Orange suggested indulgently, -whilst the young people at the back broke into uproarious mirth. -"Cover-point, not secret." - -"Peter Blakeney rowed two years in the 'Varsity eights," one of the -young people interposed, hot in the defence of a popular hero. Then he -added with characteristic English shamefacedness when subjects of that -sort are mentioned, "And he got a V.C. in the war." - -"He is a jolly fine chap, and ever so good-looking," rejoined the pretty -girl with the shingled hair. She shot a provocative glance in the -direction of the two ignorant dagoes who had never even heard of Peter -Blakeney, and then she added, "He couldn't help being jolly and fine and -all that, as he is the great-grandson----" - -"No, kid, not the great-grandson," broke in one of her friends. - -"Yes, the great-grandson," the young girl insisted. - -There was a short and heated argument, while General Naniescu and M. de -Kervoisin looked courteously puzzled. Then Miss Fairfax was appealed to. - -"Miss Fairfax, isn't Peter Blakeney the great-grandson of the 'Scarlet -Pimpernel'?" - -And Miss Fairfax, who knew everything, settled the point. - -"Peter," she said, "is the great-grandson of Jack Blakeney, who was -known as the Little Pimpernel, and was the Scarlet Pimpernel's eldest -son. In face and figure he is the image of that wonderful portrait by -Romney of Sir Percy Blakeney." - -"Hurrah for me!" exclaimed the one who had been right, whilst the pretty -girl with the shingled hair threw a glance at the handsome Roumanian, -which conveyed an eloquent "So there!" - -General Naniescu shrugged amiably. - -"Ah!" he said, "now I understand. When one gets the youth of England on -the subject of its Scarlet Pimpernel, one can only smile and hold one's -tongue." - -"I think," Miss Fairfax concluded, "that Peter is the best-looking and -the best-dressed man in the hall to-night." - -"You stab me to the heart, dear lady," the general protested with mock -chagrin, "though I am willing to admit that the descendant of your -national hero has much of his mother's good looks." - -"Did you know Mrs. Blakeney, then?" - -"Only by sight and before her marriage. She was a Hungarian lady of -title, Baroness Heves," General Naniescu replied, with a shrug that had -in it a vague suggestion of contempt. "I guessed that our young cricket -player was her son from the way he wears the Hungarian national dress." - -"I was wondering what the dress was," Lady Orange remarked vaguely, -thankful that the conversation had drifted back to a more equable -atmosphere. "It is very picturesque and very becoming." - -"And quite mediæval and Asiatic, do you not think so, dear lady? The -Hungarian aristocrats used to go to their Court dressed in that barbaric -fashion in the years before the war." - -"And very handsome they must have looked, judging by Peter Blakeney's -appearance to-night." - -"I knew the mother, too," Miss Fairfax remarked gently; "she was a -dear." - -"She is dead, then?" M. de Kervoisin asked. - -"Oh, yes, some years ago, my dear friend," the general replied. "It was -a tragic story, I remember, but I have forgotten its details." - -"No one ever knew it over here," was Miss Fairfax's somewhat terse -comment, which seemed to suggest that further discussion on the subject -would be unwelcome. - -General Naniescu, nevertheless, went on with an indifferent shrug and -that same slightly contemptuous tone in his voice. "Hungarian women are -most of them ill-balanced. But by your leave, gracious ladies, we will -not trouble our heads any longer with that young man, distinguished -though his cricket-playing career may have been. To me he is chiefly -interesting because he dances in perfect harmony with Venus Aphrodite." - -"Whose Vulcan, I imagine, he would gladly be," M. de Kervoisin remarked -with a smile. - -"A desire shared probably by many, or is the one and only Vulcan already -found?" - -"Yes, in the person of Lord Tarkington," Miss Fairfax replied. - -"_Qui ça_, Lord Tarkington?" the general queried again. - -"You are determined to know everything, _mon cher général_," Lady -Orange retorted playfully. - -"Ah, but Mademoiselle Fairfax is such a wonderful encyclopædia of -social science, and since my attention has been purposefully drawn to -Aphrodite, my curiosity with regard to Vulcan must be satisfied. -Mademoiselle, I beg you to tell me all about him." - -"Well," Julia Fairfax resumed good-humouredly, "all I can tell you is -that Jasper Tarkington is one of the few rich peers left in England; and -this is all the more remarkable as his uncle, the late Lord Tarkington, -was one of the poorest. Nobody seems to know where Jasper got his money. -I believe that he practically owns one of the most prosperous seaside -towns on the South Coast. I forget which. Anyway, he is in a position to -give Rosemary just what she wants and everything that she craves for, -except perhaps----" - -Miss Fairfax paused and shrugged her thin shoulders. Taunted by General -Naniescu, she refused to complete the sentence she had so tantalizingly -left half-spoken. - -"Lord Tarkington is a great friend of your country, General Naniescu," -she said abruptly. "Surely you must know him?" - -"Tarkington?" the general mused. "Tarkington? I ought to remember, -but----" - -"He was correspondent for the _Daily Post_ at the time that your troops -marched into Hungary in 1919." - -"Surely you are mistaken, dear lady. Tarkington? I am sure I should -remember the name. My poor misjudged country has so few friends in -England I should not be likely to forget." - -"Lord Tarkington only came into the title on the death of his uncle a -year ago," Lady Orange condescended to explain. - -"And he was called something else before that," the general sighed -affectedly. "Ah, your English titles! Another difficulty we poor -foreigners encounter when we come to your wonderful country. I knew once -an English gentleman who used to come to Roumania to shoot with a friend -of mine. He came four times in four years and every time he had a -different name." - -"_Délicieux!_" Lady Orange murmured, feeling that in this statement the -Roumanian general was paying an unconscious tribute to the English -aristocracy. "Do tell me who it was, _mon cher général._" - -"I cannot exactly tell you who he was, kind lady. When first I knew the -gentleman he was Mr. Oldemarsh. Then somebody died and he became Lord -Henry Oldemarsh. The following year somebody else died and he was -Viscount Rawcliffe, and when last I saw him he was the Marquis of -Barchester. Since then I have lost sight of him, but I have no doubt -that when I see him he will have changed his name again." - -"_Vous êtes vraiment délicieux, mon cher_," Lady Orange exclaimed, -more convinced than ever that there was only one aristocracy in the -whole of Europe, and that was the English. "No wonder you were puzzled." - -She would have liked to have entered on a long dissertation on a subject -which interested her more than any other--a dissertation which would -have embraced the Domesday Book and the entire feudal system; but -Naniescu and Miss Fairfax were once more discussing Rosemary Fowkes and -her fiancé. - -"I suppose," the Roumanian was saying, "that Lord Tarkington has given -up journalism altogether now?" - -"I don't know," Miss Fairfax replied. "Lord Tarkington never talks about -himself. But Rosemary will never give up her work. She may be in love -with Jasper for the moment, but she is permanently enamoured of power, -of social and political power, which her clever pen will always secure -for her, in a greater degree even than Tarkington's wealth and -position." - -"Power?" the general said thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. The writer of those -articles in the _International Review_ can lay just claim to political -power. They did my unfortunate country a good deal of harm at that time, -for they appeared as a part of that insidious propaganda which we are -too proud, and alas, also too poor, to combat adequately. Over here in -England people do not appear to understand how difficult it is to subdue -a set of rebellious, arrogant people like the Hungarians, who don't seem -to have realised yet that they have lost the war." - -Lady Orange gave a little scream of horror. - -"_Pour l'amour de Dieu_," she exclaimed, "keep away from politics, _mon -cher général._" - -"A thousand pardons, gracious friend," he retorted meekly, "the sight of -that lovely lady who did my poor country so much harm brought words to -my tongue which should have remained unspoken in your presence." - -"I expect you would be interested to meet Rosemary," said the practical -Miss Fairfax, with her slightly malicious smile. "You might convert her, -you know." - -"My only wish would be," General Naniescu replied with obvious -sincerity, "to make her see the truth. It would indeed be an honour to -pay my devoirs to the lovely 'Uno.'" - -"I can arrange that for you easily enough," rejoined Lady Orange. - -She leaned over the edge of the box, and with that playful gesture which -seemed habitual to her she tapped with her fan the shoulder of a man who -was standing just below, talking to a friend. - -"When this dance is over, George," she said to him, "tell Rosemary -Fowkes to come into my box." - -"Tell her that a distinguished Roumanian desires to lay his homage at -her feet," Miss Fairfax added bluntly. - -"Do you think Sir George will prevail on the divinity?" the general -asked eagerly. - -Just then the dance was over, the coloured musicians ceased to bawl, and -there was a general movement and confusion down below through which Sir -George Orange, ever obedient to his wife's commands, could be seen -vainly striving to find a beautiful needle in a tumbled and unruly -haystack. He came back to the side of his wife's box after a while. - -"I can't find her," he said apologetically. "She has probably gone to -get an ice or something. Tarkington was also looking for her." - -"Well," said Lady Orange placidly, turning her surprised gaze on General -Naniescu, "suppose you and M. de Kervoisin take us up to supper in the -meanwhile. We'll capture Rosemary later, I promise you." - -The party in the box broke up. The young people went downstairs to dance -whilst the two foreigners gallantly escorted the elderly ladies up -innumerable flights of stairs to a cold and cheerless upper story, where -an exceedingly indigestible supper washed down with salad dressing and -coloured soda-water was served to Pierrots, Marie Antoinettes, Indian -squaws, and others who crowded round the tables and fought eagerly for -unwashed forks and glasses of doubtful cleanliness. - -The Five Arts' Ball was indeed a huge success. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -"Would you like anything?" Peter Blakeney asked of his partner while he -steered her clear of the crowded dancing floor. - -"I am rather thirsty," Rosemary replied, "but I could not stand that -awful supper upstairs." - -"Well, look here," he urged, "you slip into one of the empty boxes and -I'll forage for you." - -They found a box on the upper tier, the occupants of which had probably -gone off to supper. Rosemary sat down and pulled the curtain forward; -thus ensconced in a cosy corner of the box she drew a contented little -sigh, glad to be in the dark and alone. Peter went to forage and she -remained quite still, gazing--unseeing--on the moving crowd below. She -was hot and felt rather breathless, her chestnut hair, below the velvet -cap, clung against her forehead, and tiny beads of moisture appeared -round the wings of her delicately modelled nose. The last dance had been -intoxicating. Peter was a perfect dancer. Rosemary sighed again quite -involuntarily: it was a little sigh of regret for those golden minutes -that had gone by all too rapidly. Jasper, she reflected, would never -make a dancer, but he would make a kind, considerate, always thoughtful -husband. The kindest husband any woman could wish for. - -Her eyes now sought the dancing floor more insistently. She had just -become aware of Jasper's tall figure moving aimlessly amidst the crowd. -Dear, kind Jasper! He was looking for her, of course. Always when she -was not near him he was looking for her, if not physically and actually, -then with his thoughts, trying to find her, to understand her, to guess -at an unspoken wish. - -"Dear, kind Jasper," Rosemary sighed and closed her eyes, in order to -shut out that sudden glimpse she had just had of Jasper's anxious gaze -scanning the crowd--in search of her. She pulled the curtain an inch or -two further forward, pushed back her chair deeper into the shadow. - -Peter returned, carrying a bottle of champagne and a tumbler. - -"Will this do?" he asked, and busied himself with the cork. - -"Delicious," she replied, "but what about you?" - -"Me?" - -"Yes; you have brought only one glass." - -"The only one I could get. There's a regular fight up there for -crockery." - -She laughed. "It must be horrible up there," she exclaimed. - -"Dante's _Inferno_," he assented laconically. - -He filled the glass till the froth bubbled over and gave it to her to -drink, which she did with delight. - -"Lovely," she exclaimed. - -He watched her as she screwed up her eyes and those tantalising little -lines appeared at the sides of her nose. - -"I hear you did splendidly at Lord's this afternoon, Peter," she said. -"There's a wonderful article about you in the _Evening Post._" - -Then she held the glass out to be refilled. "Your turn next," she said. - -"Won't you have some more?" - -"Not just now, thank you." - -He put the bottle down on the floor, then put out his hand to take the -glass from her. As he did so his fingers closed over hers. She tried to -withdraw her hand, and in the brief struggle the glass fell between -them, and was smashed to smithereens. - -"Our one and only glass," Rosemary exclaimed. "Please, Peter," she went -on with a nervous little laugh, "will you release my hand?" - -"No," he replied, and increased the pressure on her struggling fingers. -"I have often been allowed to hold your hand before. Why not now?" - -She shrugged her shoulders and ceased to struggle. - -"Am I never to be allowed to hold your hand again?" he insisted. - -But her head now was turned away; she was apparently deeply interested -in the crowd below. - -"Oh, Peter," she exclaimed lightly, "do look at Mrs. Opert in that -girlish 1840 costume. Did you ever see anything more ludicrous? Do look -at her huge feet in those wee sandals. There's Jimmy Ransome talking to -her now----" - -Again she tried to withdraw her hand and still he held her fast. She -turned to him with a frown. - -"Peter," she said, "if you are going to be foolish, I'll go." - -"What do you call being foolish?" he retorted. "Holding your hand? I -held you in my arms just now while we danced." - -"I call it being foolish, Peter," she retorted coolly. "Would you rather -I called it disloyal?" - -"You are too clever to do that, Rosemary," he rejoined, "disloyalty -being so essentially a feminine attribute." - -"Peter!" - -"Oh, I know! I know!" he went on, quite slowly, and then suddenly -released her hand. "Presently you will be Jasper's wife, the wife of my -best friend. And if I happen to hold your hand just one instant longer -than convention permits I shall be called disloyal, a cad--any ugly word -that takes your fancy for the moment. So I must become less than a -friend--less than a distant cousin--I must not hold your hand--the -others may--I may not. They may come near you, look into your eyes--see -you smile--my God! Rosemary, am I never to look into those glorious eyes -of yours again?" - -For a moment it seemed as if she was going to give him a direct answer, -a soft flush rose to her cheeks, and there was a quick intake of her -breath as if words would tumble out that she was determined to suppress. -The struggle only lasted for a second. The next she had thrown bade her -head and burst into a peal of laughter. - -"Why, Peter," she exclaimed, and turned great, serious eyes upon him, "I -never knew before that you read Browning." - -Her laugh had half sobered him. But evidently he had not grasped her -meaning, for he frowned and murmured puzzled: "Browning?" - -"Why, yes," she said gaily. "I forget exactly how it goes, but something -like this: 'I will hold your hand, just as long as all may. Or so very -little longer.'" - -He made no sign that her flippancy had hurt him; he sat down beside her, -his hands clasped between his knees. - -"Why should you hate me so, Rosemary?" he asked quietly. - -"Hate you, my dear Peter?" she exclaimed. "Whatever put that quaint -notion into your head? The heat must have been too much for you this -afternoon. You never will wear a cap." - -"I know that I am beneath contempt, of course," he insisted, "but when -one despises a poor creature like me, it seems wanton cruelty just to -kick it." - -"I did not mean to hurt you, Peter," Rosemary rejoined more gently, "but -when you are trying to talk nonsense, I must in self-defence bring you -back to sanity." - -"Nonsense? Would to God I could talk nonsense, act nonsense, live -nonsense. Would to God my poor brain did refuse to take in the fact that -you have promised to become Jasper's wife, and that I, like a fool, have -lost you for ever." - -"Lost me, Peter?" she retorted, with just the faintest tremor of -bitterness in her voice. "I don't think you ever sought me very -seriously, did you?" - -"I have loved you, Rosemary," Peter Blakeney said very slowly and very -deliberately, "from the first moment I set eyes on you." - -Then, as the girl shrugged her shoulders with an obvious attempt at -indifference, he said more insistently: "You knew it, Rosemary." - -"I know that you often said so, Peter," she replied coldly. - -"You knew it that night on the river when you lay in my arms just like a -lovely pixie, with your haunting eyes closed and your lips pressed to -mine. You knew it then, Rosemary," he insisted. - -But now she would no longer trust herself to speak. She had drawn -herself further back within the shadows. All that Peter could see of her -was the exquisite oval of her face like a cameo carved against the dark, -indefinite background. Her eyes he could not see, for they were veiled -by the delicate, blue-veined lids, but he had a glimpse of her breast -like mother-of-pearl, and of her small hand clinging tightly to the -protecting curtain. The rest of her, swathed in the rich folds of her -brocaded gown, was merged in the shadows, her auburn hair hidden by the -velvet cap. Just by looking at her face, and on that clinging hand, he -knew that everything within her was urging her to flee, was warning her -not to listen, not to allow her memory to recall that wonderful night in -June, on the river, when the honey-coloured moon threw shafts of silver -light on the tall grasses bending to the breeze, and a nightingale in -the big walnut tree sang a lullaby to its mate. Intuitively he knew that -she wished to flee, but that a certain something held her back, forced -her to listen--a certain something that was a spell, an enchantment, or -just the arms of her sister-pixies that clung around her and would not -let her go. - -"Don't let us talk about the past, Peter," she murmured at last -involuntarily, with a pathetic note of appeal in her voice. - -"I mean to talk about it, Rosemary," he retorted quietly, "just this -once more. After that I will fall out of your life. You can cast me out -and I will become one of the crowd. I won't even take your hand, I will -try not to see you, not even in my dreams. Though every inflection of -your voice makes my bones ache with longing, I shall try not to listen. -Just now I held you while we danced; you never once looked at me, but I -held you closer than any man ever held woman before. I held you with my -soul and heart and body--just now and for the last time. And though you -never looked at me once, Rosemary, you allowed me to hold you as I -did--not your body only, but your soul--and whilst we danced and your -sweet breath fanned my cheek you belonged to me as completely as you did -that night on the river, even though you have pledged your word to -Jasper. Though why you did that," he added, with a quaint change of -mood, "God alone knows." - -"Jasper wants me," she murmured. "He loves me. He sets me above his -ambition----" - -Peter Blakeney gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. - -"Dear old Jasper," he said, "even he would laugh to hear you say that. -Ambition! There's no room for ambition in the scheme of Jasper's life. -How can a man be ambitious when all the beneficent genii of this world -presided at his birth, and showered gifts into his lap. It is we, poor -devils, who have ambitions--and see them unfulfilled." - -"Ambitions which you set above your love, above everything," Rosemary -broke in, and turned to look him straight in the eyes. "You talk of -love, Peter," she went on with sudden vehemence, while the sharp words -came tumbling out at last as if from the depths of her overburdened -heart. "What do you know of love? You are quite right, I did lay in your -arms that night, loving you with my whole being, my soul seeking yours -and finding it in that unforgettable kiss. My God! How I could have -loved you, Peter! But you? What were your thoughts of me the next day, -and the next day after that, whilst I waited in suspense which turned to -torture for a word from you that would recall that hour? What were your -thoughts? Where were you? I was waiting for you at the Lascelles as you -had promised you would come over from Oxford the very next day. You did -not come--not for days--weeks----" - -"Rosemary!" - -"Not for days--weeks----" she insisted, "and I waited for a sign--a -letter----" - -"Rosemary, at the time you understood!" - -"I only understood," she retorted with cold irony, "that you blamed -yourself for having engaged my young affections--that you had your way -to make in the world before you could think of asking a girl to share -your poverty--and so on--and so on--every time we met--and in every -letter you wrote--whilst I---- - -"Whilst you did not understand, Peter," she went on more calmly. "Whilst -you spoke of the future, of winning fame and fortune----" - -"For you, Rosemary!" he cried involuntarily, and buried his head in his -hands. "I was only thinking of you----" - -"You were not thinking of me, Peter, or you would have known that there -was no poverty or toil I would not gladly have shared with the man I -loved." - -"Yes, poverty--toil--on an equal footing, Rosemary; but you were rich, -famous: already you had the world at your feet----" - -"And you did not care for me enough, Peter," she said with a note of -fatality in her voice, "to accept wealth, comfort, help in your career -from me----" - -"Peter Blakeney the cricketer," he declaimed with biting sarcasm; "don't -you know, he is the husband of Rosemary Fowkes now. What a glorious -career for a man, eh, to be the husband of a world-famous wife?" - -"It would only have been for a time," she protested. - -"A time during which youth would have flown away on the wings of life, -taking with it honour, manhood, dignity----" - -"And love?" - -"Perhaps." - -There was silence between them after that. The last word had been -spoken, the immutable word of Fate. Peter still sat with his head buried -in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees--a hunched-up figure -weighed down by the heavy hand of an inexorable past. - -Rosemary looked down at the bent head, and there, in the shadow where no -one could see save the immortal recorder of sorrows and of tears, a look -of great tenderness and of pity crept into her haunting eyes. It was -only for a moment. With a great effort of will she shook herself free -from the spell that for a while had held possession of her soul. With a -deliberate gesture she drew back the curtain, so that her face and -figure became all at once flooded with light, she looked down upon the -kaleidoscopic picture below: the dusky orchestra had once more begun to -belch forth hideous sounds, and hellish screams; the puppets on the -dancing floor began one by one to resume their gyrations. Several among -the crowd, looking up, saw and recognised Rosemary: she smiled and -nodded to them, waved her fan in recognition. She was Rosemary Fowkes -once more, the most talked-of woman in England, the fiancée of Jasper -Tarkington, queen of her set, admired, adulated, the comet of the past -two seasons. - -"There's that tiresome George Orange," she said in her coldest, most -matter-of-fact tone. "He is making desperate and ludicrous signs. I -strongly suspect him of making straight for this box. Shall we try and -give him the slip?" - -Her quiet voice seemed to act like an anodyne on Peter's jangled nerves. -He straightened out his tall figure, quietly pulled the chairs away, to -enable her to pass. She, too, rose and prepared to go. It seemed -difficult not to say another word, or to look him once more straight in -the eyes; and yet to speak words now, after what had just passed between -them, seemed more difficult than anything. His hand was on the door -handle. The other side of the door people were moving up and down, -talking and laughing. Another second or two and she would pass out of -his sight--pass out of his life more effectually even than she had done -when she gave her word to Jasper Tarkington. Another second. But just -then she raised her eyes, and they met his. - -"Rosemary!" he said. - -She shook her head and smiled gently, ironically perhaps, indulgently -also as on a rebuked child. - -"I had better go now, Peter," she said quietly. "I feel sure George -Orange is on his way to drag me to his wife's box." - -Just for another second he did not move. - -"It is no use, Rosemary," he said, and in his turn smiled as on -something very dear, very precious, wholly unattainable. "It is no use, -my dear." - -"What is no use, Peter?" she murmured. - -"Thinking that all is over." - -"In six months' time, if I am alive," she rejoined coolly, "I shall be -Jasper Tarkington's wife." - -"I know it, dear. Jasper is my friend, and I would not harbour one -disloyal thought against him. But you being the wife of an enemy or of -my best friend is beside the point. I cannot shut you out of my life, -strive how I may. Never. While I am as I am, and you the exquisite -creature you are, so long as we are both alive, you will remain a part -of my life. Whenever I catch a glimpse of you, whenever I hear the sound -of your voice, my soul will thrill and long for you. Not with one -thought will I be disloyal to Jasper, for in my life you will be as an -exquisite spirit, an ideal, greater or less than woman. Just you. If you -are happy I shall know it. If you grieve, Heaven help the man or woman -who caused your tears. I have been a fool; yet I regret nothing. Sorrow -at your hands is sweeter than any happiness on earth." - -It was quite dark where they stood side by side in this moment of -supreme farewell. Each felt the inevitableness of it all--the -fatality. Pride on either side had built a barrier between them: honour -and loyalty would consolidate it in the future. Too late! Everything -was too late! - -Peter bent his knee to the ground and slowly raised the hem of her gown -to his lips. But Rosemary did not move: for that one instant her limbs -had become marble, and in her soul she prayed that her heart, too, might -turn to stone. - -Then Peter rose and opened the door, and she passed out into the world -again. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -Outside in the corridor Rosemary met Sir George Orange, who claimed her -then and there and dragged her willy-nilly to his wife's box. She never -looked back once to see what Peter was doing. He had become merged in -the crowd, and, anyway, this was the end. - -She found herself presently being talked to, flattered, adulated by the -distinguished Roumanian who turned the full battery of his mellow eyes -and his persuasive tongue upon her, bent on making a breach in the wall -of her prejudices and her thinly veiled enmity. - -She told no one, not even Jasper, the gist of her conversation with -Naniescu. He had put a proposal before her--a proposal which meant work -for Rosemary Fowkes--the Uno of the _International Review._ He had -proposed that she should go to Transylvania, study for herself the -conditions now prevailing in the territory occupied by Roumania, and -publish the result of her studies in the English and American Press. And -this was just the sort of work that Rosemary longed for, now, more than -at any other time of her life. Naniescu had played his cards well. He -had known how to flatter, insidiously, delicately, this popular writer -who had captured the public fancy and whose influence with pen and -personality was paramount with a vast section of review and newspaper -readers in England. What he had proposed could in no way hurt the most -delicate scruples of an over-sensitive conscience, and the proposal came -as a veritable Godsend to Rosemary at this moment when her whole soul -was in a turmoil of remorse, longing, and rebellion. That her love for -Peter Blakeney was not dead, she had known well enough all along, but -she had little dreamed until this hour how completely it still possessed -her, what power his glance, his touch, his nearness still had over her. -She had thought of her love as of a heap of smouldering ashes, and lo! -it proved itself to be a devastating fire that burned fiercely beneath. - -And Peter? - -Peter had set the future above the present; his pride above his love, -and she, wounded to the quick, had allowed ambition and pride to throw -her into Jasper Tarkington's arms. It was all done now. Irrevocably -done. But even at the moment when she most bitterly regretted the past, -she was resolved to keep her word loyally to Jasper. Sitting beside him -in the car that took her home from the Albert Hall ball, she allowed her -hand to rest contentedly in his. His arm was round her, and her cheek -rested against his shoulder. She did not speak for she was very tired, -but she listened, unshrinking, to the tender words which he whispered in -her ear. Dear, kind Jasper! He had thoughts only for her. From the -moment when she finally promised that she would be his wife, he had -loaded her with delicate attentions and exquisite gifts. Every word he -spoke was soothing and restful, so different to Peter's tempestuous -outbursts, his unrestrained, passionate eloquence that would leave her -limp and bruised, unable to understand his next mood, his sudden -indifference to everything save his own future pursuits. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -It was only a couple of days later that Rosemary broached to Jasper -Tarkington the subject that was uppermost in her mind. She had lunched -with him at the Ritz, and they walked together across St. James's Park -to her flat in Ashley Gardens. It was one of those rare days of June -which make of England one of the most desirable countries to be alive -in. The air was soft, with just that delicious feeling of moisture in it -that gives additional fragrance to the scent of the hawthorn: it -vibrated with the multitudinous sounds of bird-song, a twitter and a -singing and a whistling that thrilled the ear with their heavenly -melodies. - -Rosemary Fowkes was very nearly as tall as her fiancé, and Jasper -Tarkington had a slight stoop which brought his eyes on a level with -hers. Scoffers were wont to say that Tarkington's stoop was nothing but -affectation; it certainly was a characteristic of him as is a monocle -with some men. His whole appearance was one of super-refinement: he -essentially gave the impression of a man who had seen so much of the -world that he had become surfeited with it, and thoroughly weary. The -weary expression was never absent from his eyes, which were very dark -and set rather close together, and though he was quite a young -man--still on the right side of thirty--there were a good many lines -round them--as well as round his expressive mouth and firm chin. He had -slender, beautifully shaped hands which, when he walked, he kept behind -his back holding a malacca cane that was adorned with a green tassel. -There is no doubt that there was a hint of affectation about Jasper -Tarkington's appearance, and manner, although in conversation he spoke -with true Anglo-Saxon directness. He was always dressed with scrupulous -correctness, and affected the Edwardian rather than the ultra-modern -modes. On the whole an arresting personality, whose kindly expression -attenuated the somewhat harsh Wellingtonian features, and the hard -outline of the narrow hatchet face. - -Rosemary Fowkes, walking beside him in her irreproachably cut -tailor-made looked like a young Diana, radiant with youth and health. -Her skin, her eyes, her hair, the jaunty little hat she wore, the trim -shoes and neat silk stockings appeared strangely out of harmony with the -stooping figure of this disillusioned man of the world, with that vague -air of Buckingham Palace about his grey frock coat and silk hat. - -It was whilst walking through the park that Rosemary spoke to her -fiancé about Naniescu's proposal. Jasper listened attentively and -without interrupting her, until she herself paused, obviously waiting -for him to speak. Then he said: - -"And you have fallen in with General Naniescu's views?" - -"Yes!" she replied, after an instant's hesitation. "The whole thing -appeals to me very much, and I am flattered by the confidence which the -Roumanian Government apparently has in my judgment. And of course," she -added, "I am not bound in any way." "Have you made any definite promises -to Naniescu?" - -"Not quite definite. I wanted first of all to consult your wishes." - -"Oh, my dear!" Tarkington interjected, and for one instant a light of -youth and folly illumined his tired eyes. "Did I not promise you when -you made me so immeasurably happy that you should be absolutely free to -follow your career in whatever manner you choose? I am far too proud of -you to wish to hamper you in any way." - -"You have always been the dearest, kindest, most considerate creature on -God's earth," Rosemary rejoined, and in her eyes there came a look so -soft, so tender, so womanly that the man on whom it fell hardly dared to -meet it. "But you are not forgetting, are you, Jasper," she went on -earnestly, "that politically we don't always see eye to eye, you and I?" - -"So long as we see eye to eye in other things," he said, "what does it -matter? When I asked you, my dear, to be my wife, I knew that I would -not be mating with a silly doll. I am not fatuous enough to imagine that -you would change the trend of your beliefs in order to harmonise them -with mine." - -Rosemary made no reply for the moment. Probably had they been alone she -would have put out her hand and given his a grateful and understanding -squeeze. As it was, the tears gathered in her eyes, for Jasper had -spoken so naturally and at the same time so nobly, that her heart was -more than ever touched by those splendid qualities in him, which his -actions and his words were constantly revealing to her. Perhaps she was -nearer to being in love with Jasper Tarkington at this hour than she had -been since first he asked her to be his wife; and when the glory of this -June afternoon, the twittering of birds, the scent of syringa and lilac -in the air brought back with nerve-racking insistence memories of -Peter's voice and Peter's touch, it was by mentally comparing the -character of the two men as she knew them, that she succeeded in casting -those memories away. - -"You are wonderfully good to me, Jasper," she sighed. - -"One cannot," he retorted simply, "be good to that which is most -precious in life: one can only worship and be grateful. But now tell me -something more about your plans. I feel a little bewildered, you know, -at the suddenness of them." - -"I have not yet made any definite plans," she replied, "and as I told -you, I have made no definite promise to General Naniescu. As a matter of -fact, I intend writing him a final acceptance or refusal to-night." - -"But you incline towards an acceptance?" - -"Frankly, yes!" - -"That would mean----?" he queried. - -"That I start for Budapest within the next few days." - -"What about your passport?" - -"General Naniescu assured me that he would see to that." - -"But you would not stay long in Budapest?" - -"No, only a couple of days. I shall go straight on to Transylvania. I -have been there before, you know." - -"No, I did not know." - -"Peter's mother was a great friend of mine. You know I was a motherless -kid and she took me under her wing on many, many occasions. At one time -I travelled with her a good deal, and she took me several times with her -when she went to Transylvania to stay with her relations. I know them -all. They are dears." - -"And, of course, they are extraordinarily hospitable over there," -Tarkington admitted dryly. - -"Hospitable to a fault! Mrs. Blakeney's sister, who is Countess Imrey, -was kindness itself to me when I was in Transylvania two years ago for -the _International._ In any case, I should go to her first. The Imreys -have a beautiful château not far from Kolozsvár. - -"I am afraid we must call it Cluj now," Jasper interposed with a smile. - -"Yes," Rosemary retorted hotly. "Aren't those little pin-pricks -damnable? Changing the name of a city that has been Hungarian for -centuries, and that has been the centre of some of the most epoch-making -movements in Hungarian history. It is mean and petty! You must admit, -Jasper," she insisted, "that it is mean and far more galling to a proud, -if conquered, nation than other, more tangible deeds of oppression. Why, -even the Germans when they took Alsace-Lorraine from France did not -re-name their towns!" - -Jasper Tarkington smiled at her vehemence. - -"Naniescu, I perceive," he said, "has set himself a difficult task." - -"He has," she admitted with a merry laugh. "But I left him no illusions -on the subject. He knows that at the present moment, and with all the -knowledge which--as I reminded him--I gathered at first hand two years -ago, I am just as severe a critic of his government as I was then. He, -on the other hand, declares that if I will divest myself of every -prejudice and go to Transylvania with an open mind, I shall understand -that Roumania is acting not only in her own, very obvious, interests, -but also in the interests of European peace. Well," Rosemary concluded -gaily, "I am going to accept General Naniescu's challenge, and I am -going to Transylvania with an open mind. I am to have a perfectly free -hand. Not a word in any article I choose to write is to be censored: he -declares that he will show me the truth, and nothing but the truth, and -that his government is only too ready to accord me every facility for -investigation and for placing the case before the British public." - -She paused to draw breath after this long peroration. As she walked so -freely along, the eyes of many a passer-by were cast with undisguised -admiration on the graceful girlish figure, the face aglow with youth and -animation, the sparkling eyes, the lips which Nature had so obviously -framed for a kiss. Jasper Tarkington said nothing for the moment; when -she had finished speaking he sighed, involuntarily perhaps, and his -tired eyes took on a still more wearied look. Was it that he felt he -could not altogether follow this exquisite woman along the path of -ambition which she trod with so youthful a step? Was he just a little -too old, a little to blasé, to share all that enthusiasm, that pride, -that burning desire to live every moment of the span of life, to fill -every hour with deeds and spoken thoughts which would abide when youth -had gone? - -Who shall say? Jasper Tarkington had never been communicative; his best -friends knew little of his life, and though he, too, in his day had used -his unquestioned mental gifts for political journalism, he had never -been the ardent propagandist that this beautiful apostle of lost causes -desired to be. His silence now acted as a slight damper on Rosemary's -enthusiasm. - -"I am sorry, dear," she said gently. "I always seem to forget that you -and I are in opposite camps over this one thing." - -"We shan't be that for long," he retorted lightly, "if Naniescu's hopes -are fulfilled." - -Strangely enough, just as he spoke he saw General Naniescu and M. de -Kervoisin, who were entering the park at Queen Anne's Gate as they -themselves were coming out of it. The three men raised their hats, and -Rosemary gave Naniescu and his friend a pleasant nod. - -"I don't think," Tarkington said after a moment or two, "that our friend -Naniescu will be very fond of me after this." - -"Why? On the contrary, he should be grateful that you have not tried to -oppose him in any way." - -"I am going to oppose him in one way, though," Jasper resumed earnestly. -"I don't intend to interfere with his plans or yours, my dear, as I said -before; but there is one thing I am going to ask you, Rosemary." - -"What is it, dear?" she asked impulsively. "I am so glad you are going -to ask me for something. All the giving has been on your side up to -now." - -"Not so fast, little one. You mayn't be ready to do what I want." - -"Is that likely?" she retorted. Then added with gentle earnestness: -"There is nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, Jasper." - -"Will you marry me," he asked abruptly, "before you go away?" - -She did not reply immediately, for in truth she was very much taken -aback. Her engagement to Jasper Tarkington was very recent, and up to -now he had not once spoken of a definite date for the marriage. She felt -herself placed in an awkward position, for the fact that only a few -seconds ago she had assured him that there was nothing she would not do -for him. And now this request for an immediate marriage. She certainly -was not prepared for it. Everything in her urged her to refuse. The -memory of that hour in the box at the Albert Hall, her talk with Peter, -her realisation that Peter still held her heart, still ruled over her -thoughts, everything, in fact, except a sense of gratitude urged her to -refuse. And yet she could not--not after what she had said, not after -all that Jasper Tarkington had done for her. While all these thoughts -were whirling in her brain as she walked along, mechanically now, all -the spring gone out of her step, something of the joy of living gone out -of her spirits, she vaguely heard Jasper's quiet, gentle voice. - -"You mean so much to me, Rosemary," he was saying, "that life here in -England while you were God knows where, in tribulation, perhaps, perhaps -in danger, needing me too, perhaps without knowing it, would be -unendurable. I could not do it. I should follow you, anyway, and come as -near to you as I dared, yet without the right to look after you as -closely as I would wish. Well, my dear, you are far too womanly and kind -to inflict such torture upon me. For it would be torture, and I would go -under through it all. I don't know if you quite understand, but----" - -There was an unusual vibration in his voice; it seemed as if, for once, -passion would get the better of his habitual restraint. Tarkington -always spoke slowly and directly, but for once words appeared to be -failing him. However, just then they turned into Victoria Street, and -the noise and bustle of traffic, his meticulous care of Rosemary while -they crossed the road, brought him back to the prosiness of life. Nor -did he speak again till they had reached the quietude of Ashley Gardens. - -"Will you come up?" Rosemary asked, pausing at the entrance of one of -the blocks of flats. - -He shook his head. - -"I think I would like you to think it all over quietly," he said. "I -want you to remember that when I am asking you to hurry on our marriage, -I only do it because I want to have the right to look after you. I won't -interfere with you in any way whatever. I give you my word that as my -wife you will be every bit as free as you are now--more so, really, -because in that part of Europe a married woman can claim an independence -which convention absolutely denies to a girl. In Budapest you will meet -people of your own nationality, and of your own set. I could not bear -the thought that your loveliness would leave you a ready prey to gossip -or malice. There now," he added, with a self-deprecatory smile, "I have -said more than I meant to. My first excuse is that you are more than -life to me, and as you are so precious, I foresee dangers where perhaps -none exist. My second is that I am pleading for my own happiness--I was -almost going to say for my life. You are not like other women, Rosemary; -you are above the petty conventions of trousseaux and crowded weddings. -As soon as I have your answer I will get the special licence and we'll -be married in your parish church without fuss and ceremony. So think it -over, my dear, and let me have your answer as early to-morrow morning as -you can. Remember that I shall scarcely live until I have your answer." - -She made no reply; only put out her hand, which he took in his. There -was no glove on it, and for a moment it seemed that in spite of -passers-by, in spite of the conventional atmosphere of this part of -London, he would raise that little hand to his lips. His eyes rested on -her with a look of passionate desire; so intense was his gaze that -suddenly she felt almost afraid. Rosemary had never seen Jasper's eyes -look quite like that. As a rule they were so gentle, sometimes mildly -ironical, at others only weary. But now it almost seemed as if, in order -to bend her will to his, he was striving to exert some kind of power -that was outside himself, as if he had called to his aid forces that -would prove more invincible than those that were within him. The -spell--it seemed like a spell--only lasted a couple of seconds; the next -instant his look had turned to one of infinite tenderness. He patted her -hand and reiterated gently: - -"Think it over, my dear, when you are alone." - -Instantly she felt the tears gathering in her eyes. His gentleness, his -tender care of her, appealed to all that was truly womanly in Rosemary -Fowkes. Self-reliant, brilliantly clever, independent in thought and -actions as she was, she responded all the more readily to a man's desire -for the right to protect as well as to cherish. Her independence had -found its birth in loneliness. Fatherless, motherless in very early -life, she had soon enough shaken herself free from any trammels that -well-meaning relations desired to put over her actions. Her genius had -consolidated her independence, but it had never stifled those vague -longings for submission and self-abnegation which are the sublime -satisfaction of a true woman's soul. - -After Jasper Tarkington left her, and when she was alone in her flat, -Rosemary Fowkes turned to the one thing that had never failed her in the -great moments of her life. She turned to prayer. On her knees, and with -her heart filled with longing and a sorrow that she dared not face, she -prayed for help and for guidance. She had no one to turn to but Him who -said with infinite understanding and love: "Come unto me all ye that -travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you." - -In the midst of worldly joys, satisfied ambition, hopes for the future -and pride in the past, Rosemary Fowkes would to-night have felt -desperately lonely and lost in bewilderment before a divided duty--duty -to self, duty to Jasper--but for the comfort of prayer, the thought of -all that lay beyond this world of ours, a world that is so sordid and -petty even at its best. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -The next two or three weeks were like a dream for Rosemary Fowkes. She -left herself no time to think. The future beckoned to her with enticing -arms, holding prospects of activities, of work that would fill the mind -to the exclusion of memory. That evening, when she rose from her knees, -she rose with a resolve, and never for one moment after that did she -allow herself an instant of regret. She wrote a line to Jasper to tell -him that she would do as he wished; she was prepared to marry him as -soon as his own arrangements were completed. - -She also wrote to General Naniescu, agreeing to his proposal. She -reserved to herself complete freedom of action to send any articles or -reports she chose to English or foreign Press; all that she desired from -him was a confirmatory letter, promising that nothing she ever wrote -would pass through the censor's hands. This he at once sent her. Nothing -could be more fair, more straightforward. Rosemary's chivalrous mind -responded whole-heartedly to Naniescu's generosity, and the feeling that -it would probably be in her power to do real good, not only to -individuals but to peoples, acted as a soothing balm upon her bruised -heart. - -On the other hand, nothing could have exceeded Jasper's kindness and -consideration during the days immediately preceding her marriage. It -almost seemed as if his super-sensitive soul had received a faint -inkling of what was going on in Rosemary's mind. Nothing appeared too -onerous, no sacrifice too great where Rosemary's comfort and desires -were at stake, and at times--such are the contradictions of a woman's -nature--she felt almost impatient with him for his magnanimity, almost -obsessed by the unselfishness of his love. - -She only saw Peter Blakeney once before she and Jasper left for -Budapest, and that was on the day of her wedding. By one of those -involuntary blunders so peculiar to dim-sighted lovers, Jasper -Tarkington had asked Peter to be his best man. What it was that had -induced Peter to accept, Rosemary could not conjecture. His impulses had -always been strange and unaccountable, and this one was more -unaccountable than most. Perhaps he merely wished to pander to his own -mad desire to see her once again, perhaps it was just a semi-barbaric -instinct in him that pushed him to self-torture. Rosemary by now had -sufficient hold over herself to meet him calmly; not one line in her -beautiful face, not one look in her haunting eyes, betrayed what she -felt, after the wedding ceremony, when she accepted Peter's warmly -expressed good wishes for her happiness. Even her sensitive ear could -not detect the faintest note of irony or bitterness in his voice. After -that he said a few words about the projected journey to Hungary, about -which Jasper had spoken to him. She would be seeing his relatives -there--the Imreys, the Heves. Elsa Imrey was his mother's sister and -such a dear, and Philip used to be a jolly boy; but Rosemary knew them -all. She knew she would be made very welcome. Peter ended by speaking -with great earnestness about his little cousin Anna Heves; her father, -who had been Mrs. Blakeney's only brother, was dead, and Peter had an -idea that Anna was not altogether happy. - -"She has left home for some reason I can't quite fathom," he said, "and -lives now at Kolozsvár--I mean Cluj. She writes to me sometimes, and -when I know the exact day when you will be in Cluj I will write and tell -her to go and see you. I suppose you will put up at the 'Pannonia.'" - -Rosemary nodded and Peter went on talking about little Anna, as he -called her. "I know you will be kind to her," he said. "You remember her -as a child, of course; in a way she is still a child, and so pretty and -enthusiastic. Give her a kiss from me when you see her." - -Which Rosemary, of course, promised to do. Then she gave him her hand, -without saying anything, for she could not trust herself to speak much, -and he kissed it just above the wrist, but more like a knight doing -homage to his lady than a lover who gazed, perhaps for the last time, on -the woman he worshipped. - -It was after the marriage ceremony that the dreamland in which Rosemary -had moved these past days became more intangible, more of a spirit-world -than before. The brief days in a dreary hotel at Folkestone would have -been unendurable but for her state of mind, which almost amounted to -semi-consciousness. Then came the weary journey to Budapest, the -sleepless night in the train, the awful meals in the crowded, stuffy -restaurant-car, the ceaseless rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub of the wheels -that bore her away farther--ever farther from that bygone world which -had become the might-have-been. And through it all, like a ray of light, -so persistent that it ceased to impress, was Jasper's constant, -unwearying care of her. He never seemed too tired to minister to her -wants, to arrange cushions for her, a footstool, to open or close the -window, the thousand and one little attentions, in fact, which most -travellers are too self-engrossed to render. - -And as Rosemary sat in her corner seat during those two wearisome days -gazing out of the window with eyes that failed to take in the beauties -of successive landscapes, her mind gradually became at peace with her -heart. Her youth, her buoyancy of spirits, reasserted themselves, made -her envisage life in all its brightest aspects, as it presented itself -before her with cornucopia filled to the brim with all that made it -worth the living. Work and a noble mate! What more could heart of woman -desire? And Rosemary closed her eyes, and in a quickly fleeting dream -sighed for the one thing that would have made her life a paradise, -and--still dreaming--she felt hot tears of regret trickle slowly down -her cheeks. - -She woke to feel Jasper's arms around her and his lips kissing away her -tears. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -Budapest had been baking all day under a merciless sun in late July. But -at this hour the coolness of a clear moonlit evening sent everyone out -of doors. The Corso was crowded. - -Rosemary Tarkington, on the terrace of the café, sat sipping delicious -coffee and lazily watching the throng. Now and then she would look -straight out before her, and her eyes would lose all sense of fatigue as -she gazed on the incomparable panorama before her: on the picturesque -old town of Buda, with, on the right, the ornate palace of the -Hapsburgs, and the cathedral of St. Matthias, and on the left, towering -above all, high upon the rock, the great, grim fortress that for over a -century had held the Turks at bay and saved Europe from the hordes of -Islam. One by one tiny lights began to wink and to blink in the houses -that rose tier upon tier on the slopes across the river, whilst down -below gaily illuminated boats flitted to and fro upon the turbulent -waters of the Danube, carrying a burden of merry-makers home from the -shady island of Ste. Marguerite close by. The whole scene before -Rosemary's eyes was one of unrivalled picturesqueness and animation. No -town in Europe presents quite so enthralling a spectacle, and one whose -charm is still further enhanced by the strains of those half-sad, -half-voluptuous Hungarian melodies which come to the ear from out the -shadows, or from the passing river boats, gentle as a caress, soothing -to nerves and senses by their sweet, melancholy rhythm, or exhilarating -when they break into their peculiarly harmonious syncopated cadences. - -Rosemary had specially elected to put up at the "Hungaria" rather than -in one of the more modern, recently built hotels. For her the "Hungaria" -was full of associations, of joyous times spent there when she was still -a schoolgirl in the days before the war. She had travelled in Hungary -and Transylvania under ideal conditions with Mrs. Blakeney, Peter's -mother, seeing the best this romantic country had to offer, welcomed -always with that large-hearted hospitality peculiar to these kindly -people. But memory recalled more strenuous times, too, those in the -early days of her journalistic career, when her heart was filled with -pity for the sufferings of a proud and ill-starred country, whose -fairest lands had been flung like rags by thoughtless politicians as a -sop to those who had been her associates in the war until the hour when -self-interest prompted them to throw in their lot with the other side. - -"You must be very tired, Lady Tarkington," a pleasant voice said close -to her elbow. - -"Not tired," Rosemary replied, "but rather dazed. The journey over from -England is slower and much more fatiguing than it used to be." - -Captain and Mrs. Payson were sitting beside her at the table. Recently -attached to the British Military Mission in Hungary, Captain Payson and -his young wife lived at the "Hungaria." It had been a great pleasure for -them to see Rosemary again, whom they had known for several years, and -after supper they had all foregathered on the terrace over their coffee. -Some few minutes before this Jasper had elected to take a turn on the -Corso, to stretch his legs and to smoke a cigar, but Rosemary felt too -lazy to move, and she liked to talk to the Paysons, who were genial and -intellectual and with whom she had a great deal in common in the way of -associations and friends. - -"The place has not altered much," Rosemary went on after a while. "The -people here are always gay and cheerful--in spite of--of everything." - -"Yes," little Mrs. Payson assented lightly. "Give them their music, -their delicious wines and perfect cooking, and nine out of ten -Hungarians won't care if they are ruled by King or Emperor, by foreign -tyrant or Bolshevist ruffian." - -"I always think Ruth is wrong when she says that," Captain Payson put in -earnestly. "The Hungarians are sportsmen, as we are, and they are taking -their punishment like sportsmen. They are not going to let the world see -how much they suffer. In that way they are very different from the -Germans." - -"They behaved with unparalleled folly," Rosemary remarked. - -"Yes," the captain retorted, "and with commendable loyalty. The -Hungarians are a nation of gentlemen, just as the British. They, like -ourselves, are worshippers of tradition. They are royalists in their -hearts, almost to a man. Just think what their feelings must be whenever -they look across the river and gaze on that gorgeous palace over there, -whence their anointed King has been driven by petty foreign politicians -who scarcely knew where Hungary was situated on the map." - -Before Rosemary could pursue the subject she caught sight of her husband -forging his way towards her between the crowded tables of the terrace. - -"Naniescu is down below," Jasper said as soon as he had reached his -wife's side. "I told him you were up here and he said he wished to pay -his respects. He is talking to some friends for the moment, but he will -be here directly." - -"Then Ruth and I had better run," Captain Payson said lightly. "He and I -are always on the verge of a quarrel when we meet." - -He and his wife rose and took their leave; there was much talking and -laughing and promises to meet on the morrow. When they had gone Rosemary -said to her husband: "I would rather not have seen General Naniescu -to-night. I am very tired, and honestly I don't feel at my best." - -"I am so sorry," Jasper replied at once, full of contrition. "I did my -utmost to put him off. I knew, of course, that you must be very tired. -But he leaves Budapest early to-morrow morning. He is going to Cluj----" - -"Cluj?" she asked, puzzled, then laughed lightly. "Oh, ah!" she went on. -"I always forget that dear old Kolozsvár is Cluj now." - -"Naniescu was anxious to see that our passports were quite in order, and -as this is important----" - -"You did quite right, dear," Rosemary rejoined gently, "as you always -do. I don't suppose the general will keep us long--though he is a -terrible talker," she added with a sigh. - -A moment or two later the handsome Roumanian came up to Rosemary's -table. - -"Ah, dear lady," he said, and with habitual elaborate gesture he took -her hand and raised it to his lips. "What a joy it is to see that you -have fulfilled your promise and that you are here at last." - -He sat down at the table but declined Jasper's offer of a liqueur or cup -of coffee. - -"I am only here for a moment," he said, "overwhelmed with work and with -engagements. But I thought it would save you trouble if I just looked at -your passports and saw that they were entirely in order." - -"That is more than kind," Rosemary rejoined, whilst Jasper went -immediately to fetch the passports. For a moment or two Rosemary -remained silent and absorbed. An indefinable something had caused her to -shrink when she felt General Naniescu's full lips upon her -hand--something hostile and portentous. The next moment this feeling had -gone, and she was ready to chide herself for it. Naniescu was earnest, -persuasive, elaborately polite in manner and florid of speech just as he -had been in London, when first he put his proposal before her, and -certainly there was not a hint of anything sinister about him. - -"I am looking forward to my visit to Transylvania," Rosemary said quite -gaily. - -"You will find every official there ready to welcome you, dear lady," -Naniescu assured her. "You need only express a wish, to find it met in -every possible way. And if you should do me the honour of requiring my -personal services, needless to say that I should fly immediately to obey -your commands." - -Rosemary shrugged her pretty shoulders. - -"I do not anticipate any such call upon your valuable time," she said -coolly. - -"Ah, one never knows. You, dear lady, are going amongst a strange -people," he added with a sigh. "People whose supposed grievances have -made bitter." - -"I have old friends in Transylvania, and will feel as safe with them as -I should in my flat in London." - -"You will stay the whole time with the Imreys?" the general asked. - -"Who told you I was going to stay with them?" she retorted quickly. - -"You yourself, dear lady," he replied, unperturbed, "or did I merely -make a shrewd guess? Anyway, on that unforgettable evening at the Albert -Hall, when first I had the honour of an introduction to you, I saw you -dancing with Mr. Blakeney. The Countess Imrey is his mother's -sister--you told me that you had friends in Transylvania--the inference -surely was obvious. I trust I have not offended you," Naniescu went on -in his most mellifluous tone, "by the suggestion." - -"No, no," Rosemary replied, already vexed with herself for having -unwittingly provoked the Roumanian into one of those elaborate speeches -which irritated her and gave her a vague feeling that malicious irony -lurked behind so much blandness. "Mrs. Blakeney was a dear friend of -mine; she and I travelled a great deal together, and I stayed more than -once with the Imreys, not only at Kis-Imre, but in their beautiful house -at Kolozsvár." - -"Ah, then," the general rejoined, "if you know the house at Cluj, you -would--in the scarce probable likelihood of your wishing to command my -services--know where to find me?" - -"What do you mean?" - -"I am living in the Imreys' house now." - -"But--how can that be?" Rosemary retorted, somewhat puzzled, for she -knew that in this part of Europe the idea of letting their house to -strangers would never occur to proud, wealthy people like the Imreys, as -it does so readily to those of their caste in England. But when General -Naniescu, with an indifferent shrug, replied dryly: "Oh, the house was -a great deal too big for the occupation of a small family. On public -grounds we cannot allow the many to suffer for the whims of a few," -Rosemary frowned, no longed puzzled. She felt rather than saw that the -Roumanian's dark, mellow eyes rested on her for an instant with a look -of quiet mockery. But it was a mere flash. The next moment he was as -suave as before, and said with that perfect deference which he had -always affected when speaking to her about her work: - -"That question, dear lady, will be one which I earnestly hope you will -approach with an open mind, and on which your brilliant intellect will, -I trust, shed the light of truth." - -Jasper's return with the passports brought on a fresh train of thought. -Naniescu pronounced them to be in perfect order. He added a special note -and signature to the visa which had been obtained from the Roumanian -Consul in London. Rosemary was feeling very tired and longed to go to -bed, but Naniescu stayed on, talking desultorily to Jasper about -politics and social conditions, all matters which Rosemary did not feel -sufficiently alert to discuss. Her thoughts wandered away and she -scarcely heard what the two men were saying; she was, in fact, just -meditating on a polite form of abrupt leave-taking when something that -Naniescu said arrested her attention. - -"My Government," the Roumanian was saying, obviously in reply to a -remark from Jasper, "is quite alive to the evil wrought by those -pernicious articles which appear from time to time in English and -American newspapers. . . ." - -"Then why doesn't your censor stop them?" Jasper queried bluntly. - -"He would, my dear Lord Tarkington," Naniescu rejoined blandly, "he -would. But those devils are so astute. How they manage to smuggle their -articles through the post I for one cannot for the life of me make out." - -"Ah," Rosemary put in with a smile, as quietly ironical as Naniescu's -had been a while ago, "you still carry on a strict censorship, then? You -do not believe in liberty of speech or of the press." - -"We do, dear lady, indeed we do. But unfortunately the English and -American press are so easily captured by sentimentality. Put a case -before them of supposed wrong, however preposterous and palpably false, -and they will revel in it, print it with capital head-lines, and so -capture the imagination of their sentimental, unthinking readers that -these will no longer listen to the voice of reason or of truth. We are -too proud--or perhaps not clever enough--to combat such barefaced -propaganda; a strict censorship may be a crude weapon, but it is the -only one at our command. What would you? A man who is attacked defends -himself as best he can." - -"But in this case your weapon is failing you?" Jasper queried in his -quiet, incisive way. "Whoever sends those articles to England and -America is apparently too clever for you." - -"For the moment--yes," Naniescu admitted. "But," he went on more lightly -and at last rose to take his leave, "I fear my irresponsible prattle is -keeping Lady Tarkington away from the rest she so much needs. Dear lady, -pray accept my humble homage, and my earnest wish that your stay in our -poor country will afford you all the delight that you anticipate." - -He raised Rosemary's hand to his lips with the same show of gallantry -that marked his every action in her presence. Just before he finally -released it he looked up with deep earnestness into her eyes. - -"Let me once more assure you, dear lady, that as far as you are -concerned every word you write will be transmitted in its entirety and -with all possible speed to its destination. All that you need do is to -send your articles and letters in a sealed packet under cover to me. I -give you my word of honour that you will be satisfied." - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -Until the moment of her arrival in Cluj, Rosemary had felt nothing but -exhilaration whenever she thought of her work and of the good which she -proposed to do, thanks to the facilities so magnanimously accorded her -by Naniescu. Just for one moment at Budapest, when she first met the -handsome Roumanian, she had been conscious of a slight feeling of -mistrust, an instinctive dislike of the man's fluent speech and affected -gestures. But on reflection she had persuaded herself that this sudden -aversion was bound to arise at first contact with those elaborate -manners which pass for gallantry in most of the Latin and Slav countries -of Europe. The contrast between Naniescu's exaggerated politeness and -Jasper's unobtrusive consideration had naturally reacted on her -sensibilities to the detriment of the Roumanian. - -Anyway, the sensation soon wore off. She had a very happy time in -Budapest. The Paysons were charming; she met several friends, both -English and Hungarian, who made her very welcome, and Jasper was, as -usual, thoughtfulness itself. The journey across Hungary filled her with -that gentle melancholy which those limitless expanses of earth and sky -engender in the mind of imaginative people. It was close on harvesting -time, and to right and left of the permanent way the great fields of -corn stretched out like a sea of ruddy gold to the purple line of the -horizon far away. Rosemary loved to gaze on these measureless stretches -of country, whereon for mile upon mile nothing showed above the line of -waving corn save, at rare intervals, the thatched roof of a tiny -homestead peeping from behind a clump of grey-green willow, or an -isolated well, with one gaunt arm stretched skywards, around which a -herd of young horses had halted for the midday rest. Her eyes followed -with loving intensity the winding ribbon of the dust-laden road, -bordered by tall, slender poplars or twisted acacia trees, and at -intervals the great patches of vivid green amidst the gold, where row -upon row of water-melons turned their huge, shimmering carcases to the -warmth of the sun. - -A faint perfume of heliotrope and mignonette hung in the air, and just -for one moment Rosemary's dreamy gaze caught a glimpse of an exquisite -mirage on the far distant horizon--a vision of towers and minarets and -of a cool, shady stream painted with fairy brush upon the moisture-laden -atmosphere. It was a phantom picture that vanished almost as soon as it -appeared, but upon the watcher's super-sensitive mind it left in its -swift transit an impression as of a magic land, a paradise the gates of -which had for one brief second been opened by celestial hands, so that -she might glimpse the garden of Eden beyond--the world of happiness and -of love which for her must ever remain elusive and unattainable. - - -The arrival at Cluj was dreary and disappointing. From Budapest she -herself had telegraphed to the hotel she knew so well, and had sent a -letter at the same time asking the proprietor to have a hot supper ready -for herself and Lord Tarkington. The hotel appeared unfamiliar when she -stepped out of the little cab which had brought them from the station. -The smiling hall-porter who used to greet Mrs. Blakeney with respectful -familiarity on arrival was no longer there; an out-at-elbows, -ill-dressed, unwashed porter took charge of their luggage. The -proprietor, he said, was not in the house, and he himself was in charge -of the place. He bluntly explained in broken German that under the new -management no meals except early morning coffee were served in the -hotel, the restaurant being now under separate ownership. The lady and -gentleman could get something to eat there, no doubt. - -It was all very cheerless, and to Rosemary very strange. The gay little -town of Kolozsvár, usually so full of animation at this late evening -hour, seemed already asleep. The streets were ill-lighted; there was an -air of desolation and melancholy about the place. The hotel itself had -become stuffy, dirty and ill-lighted. The furniture looked dilapidated, -the bed-linen was coarse and the rooms none too clean. Rosemary spent a -wretched night; but she was a hardened traveller and had before now put -up with worse inconveniences than these. There was always the comforting -thought that it was the only night that she would spend in Cluj. The -next day Count Imrey's carriage and horses (he was not allowed to have a -motor-car) would be taking her and Jasper to Kis-Imre, where a big -welcome and every conceivable luxury awaited them both. - -All that she was waiting for now was to see Anna Heves; little Anna, as -Peter called her, the pretty, enthusiastic child to whom Rosemary had -promised to give a kiss for Peter's sake. And in the morning, just as -Rosemary had finished putting up her hair and had slipped into a -dressing-gown preparatory to going in to breakfast with Jasper, there -was a knock at the door and Anna came in. Sweet, enthusiastic Anna, who -gazed at her shyly with Peter's eyes and then smiled with Peter's smile. -She would have been pretty, too, but for the unhealthy pallor of her -cheeks and the dark rings that circled her eyes--Peter's eyes! - -"I am so ashamed, Miss Fowkes," Anna murmured shyly; but at once -Rosemary broke in, stretching out her arms: - -"Aren't you going to kiss me, Anna?" - -With a pathetic little cry the girl ran into Rosemary's arms, and, her -head buried on her friend's shoulder, she burst into tears. Rosemary let -her cry for a moment or two; her own eyes were anything but dry, for -with a quick glance she had taken in the girl's changed appearance, also -the shabby clothing, the worn boots, the unmistakable air of grinding -poverty, and, worse still, of insufficient food. Poor little Anna! If -Peter saw her now! - -After a few moments the girl raised her head and dabbed away her tears. -Rosemary led her to the sofa, made her sit down beside her, and took -both her thin little hands in hers. - -"To begin with you must not call me Miss Fowkes, Anna," she said. "I was -always Rosemary, wasn't I?" - -Anna nodded, and a wan little smile struggled round her lips. - -"And, you know, I am married now," Rosemary went on. "Hadn't you heard?" - -Anna shook her head. She could not yet trust herself to speak. - -"Of course," Rosemary said gaily, "how stupid of me. Jasper and I were -married very quietly in London, and we are not people of such importance -that your Hungarian papers would chronicle the fact. My husband is Lord -Tarkington, the best and kindest of men. I'll tell him presently that -you are here. He would love to see you." - -"No, no, Rosemary dear!" Anna broke in quickly, "don't tell Lord -Tarkington that I am here. I--I never see strangers now. You see, I have -no decent clothes, and----" - -"Jasper would look at your sweet little face, Anna, and never notice -your clothes. And you are not going to call my husband a stranger, are -you?" - -Then, as Anna was silent, and with head bent appeared to be staring into -nothingness, Rosemary continued lightly, even though her heart felt -heavy at sight of the havoc wrought in this young thing by miseries at -which she could still only guess. - -"By the way, little 'un," she said, "I don't yet know what you are doing -in Kolozsvár--or Cluj--tiresome name, I never can remember it! Your -cousin, Peter Blakeney, told me I should find you here, and that he had -written to tell you I should be at the 'Pannonia' to-day; but that is -all I know. Where is your mother?" - -"She is still in Ujlak, of course," the girl replied more calmly, -"looking after the place as best she can. But, of course, it is very -hard and very, very difficult. They have taken away so much of the land, -some of the best pasture, over twelve hundred acres; mother has only -about two hundred left. There is not enough for the horses' feed. Mother -had to have ten brood mares destroyed this spring. It was no use trying -to keep them, and she could not bring herself to sell them. Imagine -mother having her mares killed! It would have broken her heart, only she -has had so much to endure lately she----" - -Once more the girl broke down; a lump in her throat choked the bitter -words. Rosemary frowned. - -"But, then, why are you not at home with your mother, Anna?" she asked. - -"I earn a little money here, and Marie is at home. She is younger than -I, you remember, and she was always mother's favourite." - -"How do you mean you earn money, Anna? At what?" - -Anna hesitated for a moment. She looked up and saw Rosemary's eyes fixed -questioningly upon her, and those eyes were so full of kindness that the -girl's reticence, even her bitterness, melted under the warmth of that -gaze. - -"I help in the shop of Balog, the grocer," she replied simply. - -"Balog, the grocer? You?" - -The cry of surprise, almost of horror, had come involuntarily to -Rosemary's lips. She thought of Mrs. Blakeney, the exquisite _grande -dame_ who, after her marriage to Peter's father, the eminent scientist, -had won her position in English society by her charm, her tact and that -air of high breeding which is becoming so obsolete these days. She -thought of Peter himself, who had inherited so much of his mother's -charm and all her high-souled notions of noblesse oblige, of what was -due to birth and to descent. Did Peter know what little Anna was -suffering under this new régime brought about by a treaty of peace that -was to bring the millennium to all the peoples of Europe? With a sudden -impulse Rosemary put her arms once more round the shrinking little -figure. - -"Anna," she said earnestly, "I think you are absolutely splendid! I -admire your pluck more than I can say. But surely, surely you could find -more congenial work than selling groceries!" - -She paused a moment, her active brain at once turning to projects that -had little Anna's welfare for their aim. Little Anna could not go on -selling groceries in an obscure Roumanian town. It was unthinkable! -Surely Peter did not know. And how could Rosemary face him with the news -that she had found little Anna selling groceries at Cluj? - -Something must be done, and quickly, to alter such an awful state of -things. While she remained silent, thinking, and Anna, equally silent, -fidgeted with long, thin fingers the tassel of her friend's -dressing-gown, Rosemary became conscious that Jasper was watching her -from the doorway of the next room. How long he had been standing there -she did not know. She looked at him over Anna's bent head, and, as -usual, she read in his expressive face a divination of her thoughts. It -almost seemed as if, with a slight nod of his head, he was actually -approving of what she had not yet put into words. Then he stepped back -into the other room and quietly closed the door. - -"Listen, little one," Rosemary said eagerly. "I am here at the -invitation of the Roumanian Government; that is to say, General -Naniescu, who, I understand, is military governor of Transylvania, has -asked me to come over here and study the conditions, both social and -political. I shall be writing several articles for English and American -papers, and I simply must have a secretary for my ordinary -correspondence, and----" - -Anna shook her head. - -"I don't know how to type," she said rather curtly, "and I can't do -shorthand." - -"Neither of which is necessary," Rosemary retorted. - -Anna looked her straight in the eyes. "You don't imagine," she said -quietly, "that if your articles revealed even a particle of the truth -they would ever be allowed to pass the censor, and if they concealed, -the truth you would not expect my father's daughter to associate herself -with them." - -"That's a brave patriotic speech, Anna," Rosemary rejoined with a -triumphant little laugh, "but you need not be the least afraid. My -articles will contain the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the -truth, and the censor will have no power over them. I give you my word." - -But Anna was unconvinced. - -"Rosemary dear," she said earnestly, "don't think me ungrateful or -obstinate. Just imagine what it would mean to me to give up this awful -grinding routine that wearies me at times to such an extent that I go -into the cathedral and beg and pray to God that I might soon die and -escape from it all. But you know, dear, when one's country is as -unfortunate as ours has become, one must do one's utmost to help and -serve her, mustn't one?" - -"Why, of course," Rosemary assented, puzzled by the girl's strange -earnestness, the glow of ardent patriotism that all at once emanated -from that drooping, slender figure; "but I don't quite see how you are -serving your country by selling groceries in Balog's shop." - -"No! no! not by that," Anna went on eagerly. "Oh, I know that I can -trust you, Rosemary, and you can't imagine what a relief it is to me to -have someone to talk to. I have not spoken like this to a soul for -nearly two years. And sometimes I feel as if I must choke. But one dare -not talk to anyone these days, for government spies are everywhere. You -never know who will betray you; the concierge of your house, the woman -who washes the stairs, or the beggar to whom you give alms. Oh! I could -tell you things----However, all of us who are suffering unspeakably -under our new tyrants are determined that the outside world shall hear -the truth, but there is such a strict censorship that one dare not send -anything through the post except what is absolutely banal and -meaningless." - -The girl paused a moment, her eyes wandered searchingly around the room, -rested for an instant first on one door, then on another, as if in fear -that those spies whom she so dreaded were lurking behind them, then, -satisfied that she was alone with her English friend, whom she knew she -could trust, she said abruptly: - -"You remember my cousin, Philip Imrey?" - -"Of course." - -"He always had a great talent for writing. When he was quite a boy he -used to write poetry and little stories. He is only nineteen now: next -year he will have to do his military service in the Roumanian army, and -that is a perfect hell for every Hungarian! Just think, Rosemary, if an -Englishman had to serve in the German army! Isn't it unthinkable? But -still, that cannot be helped! We are the vanquished race, and we have to -pay the price. But we are determined that the nations of the West shall -know the truth! So Philip and I, between us, thought of a plan. We -thought of it for two years, and it took some time to organize. At last -I obtained what I wanted, mother's consent that I should come to Cluj to -earn my living, and a post in Balog's grocery shop. Balog sends -Transylvanian goods regularly to Budapest; mustard, cheese, vegetable -seeds; I have to pack them. Now do you understand?" - -Rosemary nodded. "Yes, I think I do! Philip writes those articles which -appeared in the _Evening Post_ and caused such an outburst of sympathy -for the Hungarians of Transylvania throughout Great Britain. And -you----?" she added, and her eyes full of tenderness and compassion -rested with undisguised admiration on the shrinking little figure of -Anna Heves. - -"He rides over from Kis-Imre," the girl continued simply, "and brings me -the articles which he has written, and I consign them inside the grocery -parcels to the firm at Budapest, who, of course, are in entire sympathy -with us, and post them on to England. Oh! it is splendid, Rosemary -dear," the girl continued with glowing eyes, "to be able to do all this. -Now you see, don't you? that I could not possibly give it all up." - -"Yes, Anna, I do see that. But you are running terrible risks, little -'un." - -"I know I am, and so does Philip; but you don't know how happy it makes -us. The days when an article of his goes to Budapest is a fête day for -us both. It is usually a Saturday when the parcels are sent off, and," -the girl went on with pathetic naïveté, "on the Sunday morning when I -go to Mass, I no longer bother God with my troubles and with senseless -prayers, I just thank Him, and thank Him for letting me do something for -Hungary." - -Rosemary said nothing for the moment. Indeed, what could she say? To try -and dissuade this young fanatic from all her high-souled foolishness was -an attempt foredoomed to failure. Rosemary had far too keen a knowledge -of human nature, and held far too high an opinion of patriotism as a -virtue not to understand the intense happiness that this constant -sacrifice brought into Anna's dreary life. To have suggested that the -girl give up this joy--these constant risks--would have been futile. - -"You are a splendid, brave thing, Anna!" was all that she could say, and -her voice sounded quite harsh as she spoke, because she was fighting -against emotion. - -She gazed with real admiration on the poor wizened little figure of this -girl, in whose soul burned a flame of ardent patriotism. Anna had -counted the cost of what she was doing; with her eyes open, envisaging -every risk, she was accomplishing quietly and unostentatiously what she -believed to be her duty to her poor native land. A heroine of the peace, -she risked more than the thousands of heroines of the war had done--save -perhaps one. Like Edith Cavell, she faced and risked death for an ideal, -happy in her quiet way for the privilege of doing it, enduring a life of -grinding routine, of dreary monotony more trying for the young to bear -than active sorrow or physical pain. - -The two girls had not spoken for some time, they sat side by side on the -sofa with hands clasped, and eyes fixed upon one another. Anna, with -nerves weakened by privations, was on the verge of giving way to an -emotion which would have eased the tension that for the past months had -been threatening to break down her spirit. Rosemary, on the other hand, -felt for the moment almost ashamed of her robust health, her virile -brain, the contentment--if not happiness--in life which was her portion -since she had married Jasper, and her compassionate heart longed for the -power to comfort and to help this gentle, high-souled girl who looked at -her with Peter Blakeney's eyes, and whose lips when she smiled were so -like his. Anna was running her head against a stone wall. Rosemary felt -that inevitably she would sooner or later be crushed in the process. Her -thoughts flew to her husband, the man on whom she knew that she could -always rely when knotty problems of life threatened to be beyond her -powers to unravel. Jasper would be of good counsel: selfless, generous -to a fault, his unerring tact would perhaps find a way into the -innermost recesses of Anna's heart, and find the means to save the child -from further fanatical folly without wounding the susceptibilities of -her high-mettled patriotism. - - -"And now, Anna," Rosemary said after that moment of silence which had -sealed a bond of sympathy between herself and Peter's kinswoman, "you -are going to have a cup of hot coffee with me and Jasper. No! No!" she -went on determinedly, and took hold of the girl's wrists. "I shall not -let you go till you have seen Jasper. He will just love you, and you and -he will get on splendidly together. You two fine creatures are made to -understand one another." - -She dragged the obviously unwilling Anna with her into the next room. -Jasper was there, waiting. His hand was on the bell-pull at the moment, -and his kind, grave eyes at once sought those of Anna, who, reluctantly, -allowed herself to be drawn toward him. - -Rosemary effected a quick introduction. In a moment Jasper's kind words -had gained the victory over Anna's shyness; less than two minutes later -they were seated side by side at the table, while Rosemary ordered -coffee of the slatternly chambermaid who had come in answer to the bell. - -It was wonderful how splendidly Jasper and Anna got on; he seemed in a -few seconds to have caught the knack of gaining the girl's confidence. -She became animated, quite pretty, with shining eyes and full red lips -that had lost for the moment their pathetic droop. She did not refer to -her cousin, Philip Imrey, or to the dangerous game he and she were -playing together, but she talked of her mother and of Ujlak, of the -horses and the farm and the difficulties that beset the Hungarian -landowners at every turn. - -"I dare say that to a great extent it is our fault," she was even -willing to admit in response to gentle criticism from Jasper. "We did -not make ourselves beloved by the peasantry; they spoke a different -language from ours, theirs was a different religion, and they were the -alien race. We did little, if anything, for them. But tell me," she went -on, and fixed her shrewd glance upon Jasper, "do you think that you -landowners over in England, who do so much for your tenantry and your -villagers, cricket-clubs, foot-ball, concerts--oh! I don't know what -else, but things that you pay for and that they enjoy--well! do you -think that in their hearts they love you any better than the Roumanian -peasantry loved us Hungarians? And do you really believe that if you -were in trouble, as we are now, and they were given a certain power over -you, they would use it to show their gratitude for past generosity? Do -you really believe that, Lord Tarkington?" she insisted. - -And Jasper, with a smile at her vehemence, could only shrug his -shoulders. - -He was evidently very much taken with little Anna. - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -It was a week later and Jasper and Rosemary had been spending that time -at Kis-Imre. No one who has not travelled in that part of the world can -form a conception of the large-hearted hospitality that welcomes the -stranger in a Hungarian château. - -And Rosemary at once took the Imreys to her heart. She had known them -before, of course, in the days before the war, when they dispensed that -same wonderful hospitality, light-heartedly, gaily, as a matter of -course. A lavish table, horses to ride, dancing, music, luxury, it was -all there, not just for the asking, but poured forth like water by -ungrudging hands. They had plenty and they gave in plenty. One loved -them as one loved children and puppies and youth and dance-music, -because their gaiety thrilled the heart and painted the picture of life -in radiant colours. - -But most of that had become a thing of the past. So much of it had gone, -been irretrievably lost in the cataclysm of war and alien occupation. -The will to give was still there, the love of the stranger, the -boundless hospitality, but giving now meant a sacrifice somewhere, -giving up something to give to others. All the sweeter, all the more -lovable for being tinged with sadness. To Rosemary, Elza Imrey now was a -woman; before that she had been just like a child, naively proud of her -home, her table, her horses, without a hint of ostentation in her -display of the rich gifts the good God had showered upon her. Now Elza's -large, prominent blue eyes had become a little dim with constant -weeping, and her mouth, when at rest, drooped slightly at the Corners. -Elza was still a very handsome woman, with her hair of a ruddy gold like -the cornfields of her native land, but all around the temples there was -now a sprinkling of silver, a sprinkling that softened the face, as -powder does when applied lightly to the hair. - -Though in outward appearance she was very unlike her sister, yet she -constantly reminded Rosemary of Mrs. Blakeney; it was a question of -movements, a gesture here and there, and also the tone of the voice. -Elza, too, like her sister, had a magnificent figure, and the perfect -hands, arms and wrists peculiar to her race. She had suffered, of -course: badly during the war, terribly since the peace. At all times a -_maîtresse femme_, it was she who had carried on the administration of -her husband's estates, she who used to interview bailiffs, lawyers, -tenants. She had always been looked up to by the local officials and by -the surrounding peasantry as the head of the house. Maurus Imrey had -always been neurasthenic, and the privations of the war, and the -humiliations consequent on the alien occupation of his country, had -exasperated his nervous system and further embittered his quarrelsome -disposition. In the happy days before the war his contribution to the -management of his estates consisted in grumbling daily at his chef and -swearing unremittingly at those of his servants who came to him for -orders in anything pertaining to the house. Malicious tongues were wont -to say that Maurus Imrey had gipsy blood in his veins; more likely it -was an Armenian strain. Certain it is that his face and hands were -swarthy, his nose hooked and his eyes very dark and piercing; -characteristics which he had transmitted in a softened degree to his son -Philip. But he was a man of culture for all that. He had read a great -deal and thought over what he had read. Jasper Tarkington found him at -the outset an interesting, if not very genial, companion. - -Then there was Philip, worshipped by his mother, adored by his father, -handsome, a splendid dancer, an accomplished musician. Philip was very -attractive; if there was gipsy blood in his veins it had given him -nothing but physical beauty and the highly developed musical talent of -that race. He had dark, curly hair, and large mellow eyes, fringed with -long lashes that would have been a gift of the gods to a girl. Jasper at -first sight pronounced him effeminate, but Rosemary--knowing what she -did about him--would not allow this for a moment. How could a boy be -called effeminate who staked his life time and again, every time he rode -into Cluj with those newspaper articles of his in his pocket? - -But this, of course, Jasper did not know. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Elza Imrey talked very freely with Rosemary, and often referred to her -husband having taken the oath of allegiance to the King of Roumania. It -was all because of Philip. "What I am working for," she said, with the -light almost of a fanatic in her eyes, "and what I shall work for so -long as I have breath left in my body, is to save Philip's inheritance. -The Roumanians are lying in wait for us, watching for an excuse to expel -us from Transylvania. Many have had to go. Nothing would induce them to -be false to the oath that they had sworn to the anointed King of -Hungary. So they had to go. Sometimes at twenty-four hours' notice, bag -and baggage, turned out of the home their forebears had owned for -hundreds of years. But I would not do that. I had to think of Philip. -The Roumanian occupation is now an accomplished fact, and we are too -helpless, too friendless, not to accept it. But we must be very careful. -One false step and we are done. Imagine how I tremble every time Maurus -lets himself go. You know how unguarded he always is in his speech." - -Rosemary felt an actual physical pain in her heart when she thought of -this devoted mother's brave struggle to guard her son's inheritance, and -how little she guessed that Philip himself was jeopardizing his future -and risking his life in a cause that she was proclaiming hopeless. Those -rides to Cluj! The meeting with Anna Heves! The dispatch of those -newspaper articles of his! And Government spies lurking everywhere! - -But during meals all unpleasant subjects were vetoed. Rosemary would -have none of them, and her wishes, as the honoured guest, were law in -this hospitable house. These good people, with their mercurial -temperament, had a wonderful gift of casting aside trouble and giving -themselves over to the pleasures of the moment. And so at dinner in the -evenings the gipsy band not yet driven forth out of the neighbouring -village would discourse sweet music, the tender, sad Hungarian refrains -that appeal to the stranger almost as much as they do to the native. - -Rosemary, who was an exquisite dancer, longed to tread the measure of -the csàrdàs, the Hungarian national dance, which begins with a dreamy, -languorous slow movement, and then suddenly breaks into a wild, mad -whirl, wherein the dancers' eyes glow with excitement, their cheeks burn -like fire, and their breath comes and goes through quivering, parted -lips. Surely the merriest, maddest, most intoxicating dance devised by a -passionate people--probably for the letting off of some inward steam -that must find vent in such rapturous movements from time to time, or it -would consume them with its glow. - -"I think Lady Tarkington is quite splendid," Maurus Imrey said to -Jasper, in the intervals of beating time with hand and foot to the -ever-quickening measure of the dance. "Hey, you confounded gipsy!" he -cried, shouting to the swarthy, perspiring leader of the band. "Quicker! -Quicker! Can't you hear me speak? Do you think you are playing a funeral -march?" - -"I think," Jasper put in, with his quiet smile, "if the musicians put on -any more speed, Rosemary for one will be crying 'Mercy!'" - -But for the moment Rosemary showed no sign of crying any such thing. Her -nimble feet had quickly caught the quaint, syncopated rhythm, and Philip -was a magnificent teacher. Perhaps there was some truth in the saying -that he had inherited a strain of gipsy blood, for indeed when he danced -the _csàrdàs_ there was something barbaric about his movements. They -were full of grace and perfect in rhythm, but all the time they gave the -impression of wild roamings through desert lands, of a will that brooked -no fetters and was a law unto itself. Rosemary gave herself wholly to -the pleasure of being whirled round, turned and twisted, sometimes -lifted off her feet. All intellectuality fell away from her for the time -being: she was just like a young and beautiful animal in enjoyment of -the senses kind Nature had given her, the sound of that intoxicating -music, the feeling of unfettered movement, the scent of dying roses in -huge vases, that sent their sweet indefinable fragrance through the -heat-laden air. - -Faster, ever faster! Little hoarse cries escaped her throat as Philip -seized her with one arm round the waist, and, lifting her off her feet, -twirled her round and round till the golden lights of the shaded candles -swam like the trail of comets before her eyes. - -Faster! Always faster. She could hardly see now out of her eyes; all -that she saw was Philip's dark, curly hair waving around his forehead. -The music seemed now a part of the universe, not played by one band of -musicians, but the very atmosphere itself vibrating and resounding, -forcing her to tread the measure and not to leave off, to go on--and -on--and on--always hearing the music--always lifted off her feet and -whirled round and round-- - -Then suddenly everything ceased all at once. The music, the movement, -everything. Rosemary would have fallen, giddy, dazed, but for the fact -that Jasper, quick as lightning, had caught her in his arms. Her -instinct was to laugh. - -"What happened?" she asked, rather wildly. - -Then only did she look about her. First she saw Jasper's face bending -over her, but he was not looking at her: he was gazing straight across -the room. Rosemary's eyes followed his gaze. And all at once she gave a -gasp, which she smothered instantly by clapping her hand to her mouth. -The whole aspect of the room had changed. The gipsies seemed to have -shrunk into a dark corner, with their instruments tucked hastily under -their arms; they seemed to be trying to make themselves invisible. Two -of them had crawled under the piano; only their feet, in shabby, -down-at-heel shoes, protruded under the folds of rich brocade that -covered the instrument. - -And in the centre of the room there was a group of men, some half-dozen, -in the uniform of the Roumanian army. One of them had his hand on -Philip's shoulder. Philip stood in the midst of them; his dark face was -still flushed with the dance, his curly hair clung to his streaming -forehead. He was still panting with the movement and excitement of a -moment ago, and his eyes, dark and glowing, wandered ceaselessly from -one soldier's face to another. - -Under the lintel of the great double doors that gave on the hall a -couple of men servants stood, scared. - -Rosemary's ears were buzzing and she saw everything through a veil; the -room had not yet quite ceased whirling about her, but through the din in -her ears and the hammering in her head she heard the ominous words: -"Resistance will do you no good. You had best come quietly." They were -spoken in Roumanian, which Rosemary understood. - -Then there came a cry like that of a wounded beast, and Maurus Imrey -jumped to his feet. With head down he charged into the soldiers just -like an infuriated bull. Of course, he was seized at once, dragged back, -forced down into a chair, where, with arms gripped by the soldiers, he -launched forth a torrent of invective and abuse, and now and then, when -he succeeded in freeing one of his arms, he hit out to right and left -with his fist. - -One of the soldiers, who appeared to be in command, spoke to him with -cold deliberation: - -"You are behaving like a fool, M. le Comte," he said. "For let me tell -you that if you interfere with my men in the execution of their duty I -will take you along, too." - -Maurus's answer to this sound piece of advice was a fresh torrent of -vituperation. He shook himself free from the hands that held him down, -raised a menacing fist, and cried hoarsely: - -"If you dare to touch me, you miserable----" - -But suddenly stronger arms than those of the soldiers were thrown around -him and forced him back into the chair. They were his wife's arms. Elza -Imrey throughout all this had thought of nothing but the danger to -Philip. The humiliation of this descent upon her house, the insolent -attitude of the soldiers, this bringing home the fact of alien -occupation and alien government, hardly affected her. Her one thought -was Philip. The danger to Philip doubled and trebled by his father's -ungoverned temper. And, my God, if he should strike one of the soldiers! -So she held Maurus down, held her hand across his mouth; and Rosemary -could hear her whispering in a thick, choked voice: - -"Maurus, in God's name! Maurus, keep quiet! Maurus, for Philip's sake, -hold your tongue!" - -He struggled desperately, but she held him as only a mother can hold -that which threatens her child. The soldier looked on with a sardonic -smile. When Maurus at last was forced into silence, he shrugged his -shoulders and said drily: - -"You are very wise, madame, to keep M. le Comte's temper in check for -him. My orders are that if any resistance is offered to take all three -of you along. I need not tell you that after that you two will be sent -packing out of the country, and your son----" - -A cry from Elza broke into his complacent speech. At once she became -humble, cringing, all the pride of the aristocrat was submerged in the -devastating anxiety of the mother. She still held Maurus down, for she -dared not loosen her hold on him, but she turned a tear-stained face, -pathetic-looking in its expression of appeal, toward the Roumanian. - -"You must not take any notice of his lordship, captain," she said, -trying in vain to speak lightly and to steady her voice. "You--you have -known him for years, haven't you? You remember--he was always a little -excitable--you used to amuse yourselves--you and your brother -officers--by making him angry with one of the peasants, and seeing the -men's terror of him? You remember," she reiterated, with the same -pathetic effort at conciliation, "when we were at Tusnàd and you were -in garrison at Sinaia, you used to motor over for luncheons and balls -and----" - -"It is not a part of a soldier's duty, madame," the young soldier broke -in curtly, "to remember such incidents. If M. le Comte will cease to -insult my men, we will leave him in peace. Otherwise you both come with -me." - -He turned sharply on his heel and spoke with one of his men. Apparently -he was willing to give Maurus Imrey time to make up his mind what he -would do. Rosemary still could hear Elza's voice thick and hoarse with -anxiety. - -"Maurus, in the name of Heaven----" The same refrain, the same -reiterated prayer for submission, the one thing that would help to make -Philip's lot easier. They could not do anything to Philip, of course. -What had the poor lad done? Nothing. The mother racked her brain, -thinking, thinking what he had done. Nothing. He had taken the oath of -allegiance to the new King. Next year he would do his military service, -a perfect hell; but Philip had never grumbled. And he had never joined -in with those senseless political groups who met at night in -out-of-the-way places about Cluj and dreamed dreams of freeing Hungary -one day. Philip had never done anything so foolish. This cloud, -therefore, would blow over. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. -With silence and submission it would all blow over. - -But Philip all along had never said a word. The first inkling that he -had of this sudden danger that threatened him was the grip of a heavy -hand upon his shoulder. Breathless with the dance, he had not made a -movement or uttered a word of protest. His great, dark gipsy eyes -wandered defiantly from the captain's face to those of the men, but he -asked no questions. He knew well enough what had happened. - -Two days ago he had ridden over to Cluj with certain newspaper articles -in his pocket. He had given them to Anna. Together the cousins had spent -one of those happy days which seemed to compensate them for all the -risks they ran. Well, he had been suspected, spied upon and followed. -The strain of fatalism which ran through his veins with the gipsy blood -of his forebear bade him accept the inevitable. Slowly his dark face -became composed, his lips ceased to twitch, and the roaming glance of -his dark eyes became fixed. Rosemary, looking up, saw the glance fixed -upon her. In it she read the one word: "Anna!" Philip was pleading to -her mutely, desperately, for Anna. And this intuition which came to her -when she met Philip's glance gave her the power to shake oh the torpor -that had invaded her limbs when the dance ceased so suddenly and she had -fallen backwards into Jasper's arms. - -Like Philip himself, she saw what had happened. The spies, the ride to -Cluj, the articles given to Anna. And now the arrest of Philip and the -deadly peril that threatened the girl. - -"Can we do anything?" she whispered hurriedly to Jasper, and with quick, -nervy movements she patted her hair into place and readjusted her -tumbled gown. - -Jasper shook his head. "We should do no good by interfering," he said -gravely. - -But Rosemary was in no mood to listen. She remembered Naniescu and his -promises, the powers he had given her, the request that she should speak -the truth. She felt that she was a force to be conciliated, and here was -the moment to test her own power. - -Without another word she ran out of the room and then through the great -hall to the outer vestibule, where stood the telephone. While she took -down the receiver and hurriedly gave the number of the Imrey palace at -Cluj, she prayed in her heart that a few minutes' respite would be -granted her before the soldiers marched Philip away. - -"Hallo! Hallo! His Excellency General Naniescu! Lady Tarkington wishes -to speak with his Excellency at once! Say it is urgent--most urgent. -Yes, Lady Tarkington, the English lady at Kis-Imre. No, no, never mind -the name, please. Just say the English lady from Kis-Imre." - -Another moment or two of agonising suspense, then Naniescu's mellow -voice. Thank God! He was at home, and she was through to him. - -"General Naniescu? Lady Tarkington speaking! Thank you, I am well--very -well. Yes, my first article goes early next week. Yes, quite happy so -far. General Naniescu, Philip Imrey has been summarily arrested. . . . I -don't know. . . . There's a captain in charge. No, he did not say. . . . -Yes, I am sure it is a mistake, but the mistake may prove fatal -unless----Yes, yes! You will? Really? To-morrow morning? You are kind. -I hardly liked to ask you. Of course, I shall be here. Will you speak to -the captain yourself now? I thank you with all my heart. Will you hold -the line? I'll send the captain to you. I don't know how to thank you. -No, nothing else to-night; but I am looking forward to thanking you -myself to-morrow morning. About ten o'clock. Yes! Thank you a thousand -times. Good night!" - -She had hardly finished speaking when she heard the tramping of feet -coming from the drawing-room and then across the hall, and glancing -round, she saw the soldiers filing out two by two, with their captain -beside them and Philip in their midst. There was no other sound except -this tramping of feet. No protests, no shrieks. Philip in the midst of -the soldiers, and behind them Elza creeping along, silent, watchful, her -great eyes fixed upon what she could see of her son--the dark, curly -hair and sometimes the top of his shoulder. - -Rosemary waited until the captain was quite close to her. He saluted and -was about to pass, when, like a triumphant goddess, she turned and faced -him. - -"His Excellency the Governor, on the telephone," she said curtly, and -held the receiver out to the young soldier. "He desires to speak with -you." - -The Roumanian, obviously very much taken aback, looked at her for a -moment or two, frowning before he took the receiver from her. The group -of soldiers had halted, waiting for further orders. Behind them Elza -hovered, her white face and golden hair alone visible in the gloom. - -After that instant's hesitation the captain put the receiver to his ear. - -"Yes, Excellency. No, Excellency. Yes, Excellency." Then a long, long -wait, while the captain stood with the receiver against his ear, and -Elza came nearer, watching, hoping, mutely questioning; and Rosemary, -with glowing eyes and an enigmatic smile, put a finger up to her lips. -Finally: "I quite understand, Excellency. Quite! Absolutely!" And the -captain hung up the receiver. - -Then he turned to Elza, who had drawn close to Rosemary, quite close; he -clicked his heels together and touched his képi with his right hand. - -"By order of his Excellency General Naniescu," he said, "Count Philip -Imrey is free to remain under this roof. He will give his word of honour -that he will not attempt to leave the castle until after the arrival of -his Excellency in the course of the morning." - -And thus the incident was closed. Philip gave the required parole, and -with more clicking of heels and salutes the young captain marched out of -the house, followed by his men. Then only did Elza break down, when she -put her arms round Philip's shoulders and sobbed her heart out against -his breast. He appeared more dazed than relieved, and kept his eyes -fixed on Rosemary, whilst with his long, thin hand he stroked and patted -his mother's hair. Rosemary gave him an encouraging glance. "It was for -Anna's sake," her glance said mutely. "In any case, Anna will be safe." - -And the incident being closed, she went back to the drawing-room. Jasper -held out a hand to her, and when she placed her hand in his he raised it -to his lips. She took it as a sign of his approval, and bending down, -she gave him her forehead to kiss. He just took her face between his two -palms and gazed long and intently into her eyes. - -He had often done that before; he loved to take hold of her face, to -feel the soft velvety cheeks against his hands, and Rosemary would turn -her pixie eyes to his and in one glance express all the affection, the -sincere regard and fervent gratitude which she felt for him. But somehow -this time it all seemed different, more intense, almost terrifying. To a -sensitive woman a man's passion, if she cannot respond to it, is always -terrifying; and, of course, Rosemary's nerves were stretched now almost -to breaking point. Else why should she be conscious of a sense of fear? - -Jasper's gaze was not so much searching her soul as striving to reveal -his. Something in him seemed imprisoned, and he was asking her to set -that something free. A force, a power, greater even than his love, so -great that love itself became its slave. And this Rosemary could not -understand. She had experienced something of the same sensation that -afternoon in London when he had asked her to marry him before she left -for Hungary. Then, as now, she had caught a glimpse of a whirlpool of -passion which seethed beneath her husband's grave, gentle manner. Then, -as now, it had seemed to her as if he were trying to exert some -supernatural power outside himself, to rouse an echo of his own passion -in her heart. And with that glimpse into the depths of a man's soul came -the knowledge that never would it be in her power to give soul for soul -or passion for passion. And yet the day would come--she felt it, knew it -at this moment--when the man, wearied of sentimental doles, would demand -her whole surrender--body, brain, soul, everything, soul above -all--which she would not be prepared to give. - -Strange that this realization, this vague feeling akin to fear, should -come to her again at this moment, when both she and Jasper were only -minor actors in the drama that had just drawn to its close. Like most -great moments in the inner life of the soul, it only lasted for one -brief flash. It left its indelible mark on Rosemary's memory, but it -lasted less than one second. The very next she tried to recapture it, -but it was gone. Jasper looked grave and kind, as he always did, busy -now with getting her comfortably ensconced in a capacious armchair, -with plenty of cushions behind her back. Elza came in with Philip, and -Maurus roused himself from his apathy to hurl invectives against those -damnable, impudent Roumanians. - -And the gipsy musicians, reassured, crawled out of their hiding-places, -and their leader, shouldering his violin, began to play a dreamy melody. -One by one the others fell in harmony, the 'cello, the bass, the -clarionet, and the inimitable cimbalom. "There is but one beautiful -girl in all the world," was the tune that they played; its soft, -languorous cadence rose and fell in the air wherein the dying roses once -more sent up their voluptuous fragrance. Forgotten was the danger just -past, the peril still ahead. Music, the never-failing expression of -emotion in these romantic people, soothed their nerves and uttered the -words which would not rise to their lips. Elza sat with Philip's hand in -hers. Rosemary, with eyes fixed far away, caught herself gazing on the -memory picture of a dark recess in a box in the Albert Hall, with the -noise and whirl of a big social function about her, but with complete -isolation there in the darkness; and through the deafening noise memory -conjured up a man's voice that murmured with passionate earnestness: "It -is no use, my dear, thinking that all is over." - - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -The morning was as clear as crystal, the sky of a translucent turquoise -blue. Away on the right the masses of soft-toned purple kills stretched -their undulating lines like waving veils, hiding the mysteries of the -horizon. - -Rosemary had thrown open the windows of her bedroom and stepped out upon -the balcony. With arms outstretched she drank in the intoxicating air, -laden with the scent of heliotrope and lilies. She had the delicious -feeling of having accomplished something, of having tested her power and -found it absolute. Naniescu, on the telephone, had been almost -apologetic when she told him about Philip's arrest. He declared that -there was some mistake, and that he himself would come over in the -morning and inquire into the matter. Rosemary was young enough to feel a -naïve pleasure in her work. That Philip Imrey was restored then and -there to his mother's arms was her work, the outcome of her position in -the journalistic and political world. And the knowledge that this was so -was as intoxicating as the fragrant air on this perfect late July -morning. - -A moment or two later she heard the pleasant noise of the rattling -coffee-cups in the room behind her. She turned in, ready to embrace the -little housemaid who looked after her so cheerfully. In fact, Rosemary -was in a mood to embrace the whole world. Contrary to her usual happy -way, however, the little housemaid did not look up when Rosemary came -in. As a rule she would run and kiss the gracious lady's hand, according -to the pretty custom of her country. To-day she just rattled the -coffee-cups, and Rosemary noticed that her hands were shaking and that -she turned her head very obviously away. - -"What is it, Rosa?" Rosemary asked in her best Hungarian, of which she -had learned quite a good deal at different times. "Why don't you come -and say good morning?" - -The kind voice and the necessity to respond to the gracious lady's -inquiry broke down the barrier of Rosa's self-control. She raised her -apron to her eyes and burst into a flood of tears. The next moment -Rosemary was by her side, her arms round the girl's shoulders. - -"Rosa!" she said, "Rosa! what is it? Tell me, little thing. What is it? -Who has made you cry?" - -But Rosa only went on sobbing, and murmuring between her sobs: "Oh, -gracious lady! gracious lady! What a calamity! What a dreadful -calamity!" - -After a few seconds of this Rosemary began to lose patience. She was -English and practical, Rosa's continued sobbing and incoherent -mutterings got on her nerves. She gave the girl a good-humoured shake. - -"What calamity, Rosa?" she queried. "Bless the girl! I'll smack you, -Rosa, if you don't speak." - -Now this was a language that Rosa understood far better than a string of -kindly inquiries. She had been smacked by her mother, almost as soon as -she was born, she had been smacked by her elder sister, by her -grandmother, by her aunt and by her father while she grew up, and when -she started service in the château and was silly or tiresome she had -been smacked by the gracious Countess. Being smacked did not hurt, but -it acted as a tonic, and braced up Rosa's slackened nerves. The threat -of it by the gracious English lady at once dried the well of her tears, -she wiped her nose and eyes with her apron and murmured: - -"The gracious Count Philip--they have taken him away." - -At first Rosemary did not take it in. She did not trust her ears, or her -knowledge of Hungarian. She must, she thought, have misunderstood Rosa, -or else Rosa was talking like a fool. But Rosemary's grasp tightened on -the girl's arm, her fingers buried themselves in the young, firm flesh. - -"What do you mean, Rosa?" she queried. "What do you mean about the -gracious Count? Who has taken him away?" - -"The soldiers, gracious lady," Rosa murmured. - -"What soldiers?" which was a foolish question on Rosemary's part--and -she knew it. There were no soldiers now in Transylvania except the -Roumanian soldiers. But somehow the thing would not penetrate into her -brain--she felt that, too, and wanted to give it time to sink in slowly, -slowly. - -Rosa now ventured to look the English lady in the face. Her big, blue -eyes were still swimming in tears. - -"The Roumanian soldiers, gracious lady," she said, "the ones who came -last night." - -"But they went away again last night, Rosa," Rosemary explained -deliberately and patiently, "they went away and the gracious Count -Philip remained at home, he went to bed as we all did. Anton must have -waited on him, as he always does." - -But Rosa gave a deep sigh and gulped down a fresh flood of tears that -threatened to choke her. - -"Anton did wait on the gracious Count when he went to bed. But soon -after midnight the soldiers returned. Feri, the night watchman at the -gate, had to let them in. They ordered him not to make a noise, only to -rouse the gracious Count's valet. So Feri went to call Anton, as quietly -as he could, for the soldiers kept threatening him that if he made a -noise they would beat him. Poor Anton nearly fainted with terror--you -know, gracious lady, Anton always was a coward--what would you," Rosa -added with a shrug. "A gipsy." - -"Yes! Yes!" Rosemary urged impatiently. "Go on, girl, go on." - -"The soldiers would not even allow Anton to dress himself. Just as he -was he had to go and rouse the gracious Count Philip. The soldiers were -threatening to burn the house down if any one made a noise, but I am -sure that Feri and Anton were too scared to think of screaming. The -gracious Count jumped out of bed: the soldiers stood by while he -dressed, but they would not allow him to take anything with him except -just the clothes he put on--no money--not his watch--not a -letter--nothing. Feri says that the soldiers were in the house and out -again in less than a quarter of an hour. They took the gracious Count -with them, but four of them remained behind; they made Feri and Anton -sit together in the lodge and kept guard over them until an hour ago. -Then they went away and Anton ran in with the news. Oh! you should have -seen the gracious Countess! It was pitiable--pitiable, though she said -nothing and she did not cry. My God! My God! What is to become of us -all?" - -The girl started wringing her hands, and her voice became loud and -shrill with the sobs that would no longer be suppressed. - -"Be quiet, Rosa, be quiet!" Rosemary said once or twice quite -mechanically. She had taken it all in at last: the trick, the awful -treachery, the cruelty of it all. She stood there beside the sobbing -girl, with hands tightly clenched and a deep frown between her brows. -She wanted to think. To think. Something would have to be done, and done -quickly. But what? Naniescu? What rôle did he play in this mean -trickery? Rosemary was a woman who thought straight and acted straight: -so consistently straight, in fact, that she never could visualise -treachery in others. In the wide, wide world that attitude of mind is -called the attitude of a fool. Yet Rosemary Tarkington was anything but -a fool. Perhaps she was lacking in the intuition of evil: certain it is -that at this moment she would not allow herself to think that Naniescu -was a party to the abominable deed. The young officer, perhaps, or the -local commandant who might have a grudge against the Imreys. But -Naniescu? No! - -She sent the girl away; Rosa's round, pink face with the round, blue -eyes and round-tipped nose was getting on her nerves. The girl was -comical in her grief, and when Rosemary looked at her she felt an -uncontrollable desire to laugh. And this would have horrified Rosa. So -she sent Rosa away. - -A moment or two later Jasper came in, ready for breakfast. One glance at -his face and Rosemary knew that he, too, had heard the news. - -"What do you think of it?" Rosemary asked after she had given him a fond -morning kiss. - -"My darling," Jasper replied in his cool, British manner, "I only think -that you are making a grave mistake in throwing yourself headlong into -the politics of these out-of-the-way countries. . . ." - -"It is not a question of politics, Jasper," Rosemary broke in, -protesting. - -"I know, my dear, I know. Your warm heart prompts you to interfere there -where prudence would dictate the wiser course of closing one's eyes. You -would not be the adorable woman that you are if you acted differently. -But, believe me, my darling, it is not wise. You will only run your -lovely head against a stone wall, and in the end do no good. You must -let these people fight out their quarrels their own way. They are not -our kind; we don't understand them. My firm conviction is that you will -only do harm by interference. Mind you, I haven't a doubt that young -Imrey has done something stupid. They are a hot-headed lot, these -Hungarians, especially the young ones, and, of course, they don't like -the present régime. The government in power has a perfect right to -protect itself against conspiracy and rebellion, even though we -outsiders may think that those conspiracies are futile, and the measures -of repression unduly harsh. Leave them alone, my dear," Jasper concluded -more lightly, with a shrug, "and have a cup of hot coffee." - -He settled himself down on the sofa and tried to draw her down to him. -But Rosemary was not in the mood for sentiment. Reason whispered to her -that Jasper was right--he was always right, worse luck!--she knew that -Philip Imrey had acted foolishly--very, very foolishly--and that, as a -matter of fact, in this case the commandant (or whoever was responsible -for Philip's arrest) was entirely within his rights. She, certainly as -an impartial spectator of events, brought here for the express purpose -of seeing the truth and nothing but the truth, could not in conscience -make capital of this incident. She had come out here determined not to -act on impulse, but to judge coolly and without bias, and thus to -consolidate her reputation as one of the foremost women journalists of -the day. With Sir Philip Gibbs as her master, and model, she could not -go back on the ideal of justice and impartiality which she had set -herself. But she did want to save Philip Imrey from the consequences of -his own folly. And, above all, she wanted to know what had become of -Anna. - -"I cannot leave them alone, Jasper," she said slowly. "I cannot. All -this petty tyranny makes my blood boil." - -Jasper sighed somewhat impatiently. "I know, my dear, I know," he -reiterated vaguely. - -Rosemary did not continue the discussion for the moment; Jasper was so -right in everything he said, and Philip Imrey had been desperately -foolish. Now she blamed herself for not having worked on Anna's mind and -dissuaded her from lending herself to her cousin's mad schemes. She -mentioned Anna's name to her husband, but Jasper knowing nothing of the -girl's dangerous activities in Balog's grocery stores, could not, of -course, see that Anna was in any kind of danger. - -"But," Rosemary argued, "Anna and Philip are first cousins, they see a -great deal of one another----" - -"Do they?" Jasper ejaculated. "But even so, my dear, you surely are not -going to suppose that the Roumanian government is going to lay hands on -all Philip Imrey's relations, just because he has run his silly head -into a noose." - -"No! No!" Rosemary protested vaguely. - -But she could not say anything more on the subject of Anna. Anna had -told her everything in confidence: "I know I can trust you, Rosemary," -the child had said, and Rosemary could not betray that confidence--not -even by speaking of it all to Jasper--not even by hinting at it. If the -peril became more imminent--if Anna herself was in danger--then perhaps. -But not now. - -Rosemary tried to swallow some breakfast, just to please jasper, for his -kind, grave eyes looked quite sad, and she did not want to add to his -anxiety. But her thoughts were dwelling on Elza. - -"I wonder if she could bear to see me," she said presently. - -"You can always ask," was Jasper's wise suggestion. - -Rosemary found Elza Imrey outwardly quite calm and resigned. That woman -had a marvellous fund of common sense and self-control. What she -suffered no one should know. Only when she read true understanding and -mute sympathy in Rosemary's eyes, she gave an answering look which -contained such a depth of sorrow and anxiety that Rosemary's heart was -overwhelmed with pity. In these few hours Elza had aged twenty years. -Anton had brought the news across from the lodge to the château in the -early morning as soon as the Roumanian soldiers had gone away. The -gracious Countess had received the news with extraordinary indifference, -was the verdict on the incident below stairs; Rosa was crying her eyes -out, all the menservants went about cursing and swearing and threatening -to kill some one, but the gracious Countess had not shed one tear. When -she had heard Anton's report, she asked a few questions: what suit had -the gracious Count put on? did he take an overcoat? what shoes did he -wear? and so on; but never a tear. Then she said: "Very well, Anton, you -may go!" and that was all. No! No! It was not natural. But then these -great ladies! . . . One never knew! - -No one ever did know to what height a mother's heroism could go. Elza, -with her heart nearly broken, thought only of what was best for Philip. - -"Of course, he has done nothing!" she reiterated over and over again, -"so they can't do anything to him." - -Then her voice would break on a note of pathetic appeal; she would seize -Rosemary's hands and search the depths of her English friend's eyes, -with the look of a poor stricken animal begging for sympathy. - -"Can they?" she asked, and Rosemary would shake her head, not trusting -herself to speak. It was no use now rending the mother's heart, adding -another load of anxiety to the heavily burdened soul. Elza would know -soon enough. Soon enough! And she could do nothing even if she knew now. - -Maurus was shut up in his own apartments, tearing up and down like a -best in its cage, raging and swearing. That was his temperament, Elza -said philosophically, with a shrug; the Armenian blood in him. (She -never would admit the gipsy strain.) Fortunately the servants were all -Hungarian; faithful and discreet. They knew him. When he was in one of -those moods they fled from him; but not one of them would betray him. -Now he was threatening to kill every Roumanian that ever crossed his -path. Well, fortunately there was no one to hear him--only the servants, -and they would hold their tongues. - -"Maurus won't understand," Elza explained to Rosemary, "that our chance -is submission. If they turn us out of here it will be the end of -Philip's inheritance. We must save that at all costs. What is the -sacrifice of a little pride when it means so much for Philip's future. -Things can't go on as they are--not for long, and if only I can keep -Maurus quiet, we shall have Philip back here in a week." - -Then she harked back on the old refrain. "He has done nothing. They -can't do anything to him. Can they?" - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -Naniescu arrived soon after ten o'clock. Rosemary heard the hooting of -his motor when it turned in at the gate, also the general bustle, -clatter, running about that ensued. Her rooms, with the balcony -overlooking the park, were on the other side of the house, so she saw -nothing of this; but somehow after the arrival of his Excellency, the -stately château appeared to have lost something of its dignified -quietude. Loud voices resounded from end to end of the galleried hall, -footsteps that sounded almost aggressive echoed along the corridors. - -Jasper had gone down some time ago for a stroll in the park, while -Rosemary dressed. She was sorry now that she had not asked him to be -sure to come back so as to support her in her interview with Naniescu. -However, this wish was only a momentary weakness. She had been -accustomed for years past to stand on her own feet, to act for herself, -and to take swift decisions without outside advice. So now, with a -careless shrug, she turned back to the important task of dressing; this -she did with deliberate care, then surveyed herself critically in the -glass, and, having satisfied herself that Rosemary Tarkington was in no -way less beautiful than Rosemary Fowkes had been, she settled herself -down in her boudoir with a book and waited. - -A very few minutes later one of the men came to announce that his -Excellency General Naniescu desired to pay his respects to Lady -Tarkington. - -He came in looking breezy and gallant. He kissed Rosemary's hand, sat -down on the chair she indicated to him, inquired after the state of her -health, her journey, her work, all in a mellifluous voice and in -execrable English. In fact, for the first five minutes of this momentous -visit he was just a pleasant, cheerful man of the world, exchanging -banalities with a pretty woman. - -"_Et ce cher Tarkington?_" he queried. "How is he?" - -"My husband will be in, in a moment or two," Rosemary replied, trying to -bring the conversation round to the all-important subject. "He will, of -course, make a point of not failing to see you." She made a slight, -insignificant pause, then she went on more seriously: "I can assure you, -M. le Général, that Lord Tarkington's interest in our dear host and -hostess is just as keen as mine." - -"Of course, of course," Naniescu rejoined vaguely, with a sweep of his -well-manicured hand. "They are very foolish people, these Imreys. And -that young man! Dear lady, you have not an idea what trouble we have -with these Hungarians! They are all a little _toqué!_ What you call so -admirably in your picturesque language: they have a bee in their bonnet. -What?" - -He laughed, very pleased with himself for what he apparently considered -a little joke. - -"A bee in their bonnet," he reiterated, still waving his white podgy, -hands about. He set his teeth together and made a sound to represent the -buzzing of bees. "Buzz! Just like that! But bees," he added curtly, "are -apt to be tiresome. Is it not so?" - -"You choose to look upon the matter lightly, M. le Général," Rosemary -rejoined, with a touch of impatience, "but to these unfortunate people -the summary arrest of their only son is anything but a light matter. On -the telephone last night----" - -"Oh, the telephone!" the general broke in with an affected sigh. "A -marvellous invention! What? But it is difficult on the telephone to give -those little nuances which are the essence of conversation. It was -wonderful to hear your melodious voice on the telephone last evening. I -was not expecting to hear it, and it was delightful! Like a spirit voice -coming from a place unseen to soothe me to pleasant dreams." - -He tried to capture her hand, and when she snatched it away with obvious -irritation he gave a soft, guttural laugh and gazed with a look of bold -admiration into her eyes. Rosemary felt her temper rising, and nothing -but her knowledge that this distinctly unpleasant personage had supreme -power over those she cared for kept her impatience in check. - -"General Naniescu," she said, quietly determined, "you must forgive me -if I cannot enter into your playful mood just now. The only son of my -very dear friend is under arrest for an offence of which he knows -nothing, and, moreover, he was arrested under circumstances that are -entirely unjustifiable, seeing that this country is not, I presume, -under martial law." - -"Not under martial law, certainly, dear lady," Naniescu was willing to -admit, and did so with a certain measure of seriousness, "but under -strict disciplinary law, framed by a suzerain state for the protection -of its own nationals in occupied territory. But let that pass. You -graciously informed me over the telephone last night that young Imrey -was arrested, and I gave orders to the captain in charge for his -immediate release. As I intended to come over here in the course of the -morning, I was willing to let the matter stand until I had investigated -it myself." - -"Count Philip Imrey was released at ten o'clock yesterday evening, and -rearrested in the middle of the night; he was not even given the chance -of saying good-bye to his parents, or of providing himself with the -necessary clothing and money. I imagine, M. le Général," Rosemary went -on coldly, "that this was done by your orders, or at any rate that you -were not kept in ignorance of it." - -For the fraction of a second Naniescu hesitated; then he said cynically: - -"Yes; certainly I knew of it. I may even say that it was done by my -orders." - -Rosemary suppressed a cry of indignation. - -"Well, then?" she exclaimed hotly. - -But Naniescu, not in the least taken aback, only retorted blandly: - -"And how am I to interpret that enigmatic query, dear lady?" - -"As a challenge to justify your actions," was Rosemary's bold reply. - -Then, as he gave no immediate answer, but allowed his mellow dark eyes -to rest with a distinctly mocking glance on her face, Rosemary felt a -hot flush rise slowly to her cheeks. Just for an instant she felt at a -disadvantage. She was obviously not in a position to demand explanations -from a man who belonged to the governing classes in his own country. -With every belief in the power of the press, Rosemary had far too much -common sense not to realize that a man in Naniescu's position would not -put up with being dictated to, or cross-examined, by a stranger, however -influential he or she might be. So once again she swallowed her -resentment, determined that whatever chance she had of helping the -Imreys should not be wrecked through want of tact on her part. -Diplomacy, good temper, and, if necessary, seeming complaisance, would -be more likely to win the day than any attempt at threatening. - -"Monsieur le Général," she resumed, after a while, "I know that you -will forgive me for my seeming ill-humour. I have witnessed so much -sorrow these last few hours that I suppose my nerves are rather jarred. -I know, of course, that it is not my place to criticise the measures -which your Government chooses to impose on a subject race. As a suzerain -state Roumania has a perfect right to defend what she believes to be her -own interests, and in a manner that she thinks best. Will you forgive me -the sharp words I allowed to slip just now?" - -And with a return of that charm of manner which even more than beauty -held most men in thrall, Rosemary put out her hand. The gallant -Roumanian, without a trace of mockery now in his large, dark eyes, took -it in both his own; then he stooped and kissed the dainty finger-tips. - -"And now," Rosemary went on resolutely, "that I have made _amende -honorable_, will you allow me to plead the Imreys' cause in all -earnestness. In the name of humanity, Monsieur le Général? The boy is -only nineteen." - -The general leaned back in his chair, his well-manicured fingers gently -stroking his silky moustache, his eyes no longer attempting to conceal -the satisfaction which he felt at seeing this exquisitely beautiful -woman in the rôle of a suppliant before him. Now when she paused he -gave an indifferent shrug. - -"Dear lady," he said, "my experience of this part of the world is that -boys and girls of nineteen who give up jazzing and have not started -making love, but who choose to meddle in politics, are veritable pests." - -"But Philip Imrey does not meddle in politics," Rosemary protested. - -"Are you quite sure of that?" he retorted. - -As he said this his eyes became quite small, and piercing like two -little flaming darts; but though his sudden challenge had sent a stab of -apprehension through Rosemary's heart, her glance never faltered, and -she lied straight out, lied boldly without hesitation, without a blush. - -"I am quite sure," she replied. - -And the only compunction she felt over that lie was when she -realized--as she did at once--that the Roumanian did not believe her. - -"Little Anna Heves did not confide in you?" he asked, with perfect -suavity. - -"What do you mean?" - -"Just what I said, dear lady. Anna Heves and Philip Imrey are two young -hotheads who have given us an infinity of trouble. For a long time we -could not find out how certain pernicious articles, injurious to the -good reputation of Roumania, found their way into the English and -American press. Now we know." - -"Your spy system seems more efficient than your censorship," Rosemary -retorted bitterly. - -"That is beside the point." - -"Yes; the point is that those two are mere children." - -"I dare say the judges will take that into account, and deal leniently -with them." - -"With them?" Rosemary exclaimed, and suddenly a new terror gripped her -heart. "With them? You don't mean----?" - -"What, dear lady?" he queried suavely. - -"That Anna----?" - -"Anna Heves, yes; the late Baron Heves' daughter, now a saleswoman in -the shop of Balog the grocer. I often wondered how she came to demean -herself in that way. Now I understand." - -"But surely, surely," Rosemary protested, striving in vain to steady her -voice, which was quaking with this new, this terrible anxiety, "you have -not arrested Anna Heves? The child has done nothing----" - -Naniescu put up his hand with a gesture of protest. - -"Dear lady," he said, with quiet irony and in a tone one would use to an -obstinate child, "let me assure you once and for all that the -accusations against Philip Imrey and his cousin do not rest upon -assumptions, but upon facts. Anna Heves was arrested, and she will be -brought to trial because she was found--actually found, mind -you--smuggling newspaper articles, defamatory to the Government of this -country, for insertion in foreign journals. English sense of justice is -reputed to be very keen; your own must tell you that it is hardly fair -to bring the battery of your charms as a weapon to break down my sense -of duty. I lay, as always, my homage at your feet, but I should be a -traitor if, whilst gazing into your adorable eyes, I were to forget what -I owe to my country." - -Gradually he dropped the irony out of his tone, and his voice became -once more mellifluous and tender while he leaned forward, almost -touching Rosemary's knees with his, and striving to hold her glance with -the challenge of his own. Rosemary shrank back. Suddenly something of -the truth had dawned upon her. Not all of it just yet. It was only -presently--in a few more days--that she was destined to realise the -extent to which this man-half Oriental in his capacity for lying--had -hoodwinked and cajoled her. It was his mien, the thinly veiled insult -that lurked behind his suave speech and expressive eyes, that suddenly -tore the veil from before her own. And yet reason fought for a moment -against this wave of aversion. The man was right, unquestionably right. -Philip and Anna had been very foolish. And, what's more, they were -technically guilty of treason: there was no getting away from that; and -Rosemary could not shut her eyes to the fact that the very lives of -those she cared for were in the hands of this soft-toned liar. At one -moment she longed passionately for Jasper, the next she would dread his -coming, for she knew well enough that he, with his straight -matter-of-fact mode of thinking, would inevitably give Naniescu his due, -insist that the general was within his rights, and advise his wife to -keep clear of these imbroglios, which were so contrary to the lenient, -sportsmanlike English attitude toward a beaten enemy. - -On the whole she felt glad that Jasper was not here. He would hate to -see her plead. Yet plead she must. There was nothing else to do. She -must plead with fervour, plead with all the strength that she possessed, -all the eloquence that she could command. - -"In the name of humanity!" That was her chief plea; and with anxious -eyes she searched the man's face for the first trace of pity. - -"Anna and Philip are so young," she urged. "Mere children." - -But Naniescu smiled, that fat, complacent smile of his which she had -quickly learned to loathe. - -"You would not like me," she said at one moment, "to send an account of -it to all the English and American papers. Two children, one under -eighteen, the other not yet twenty, arrested in their beds at dead of -night, brought to trial for having smuggled a few newspaper articles -through the post. If you do not deal leniently with them----" - -"Who said we would not deal leniently with them?" Naniescu broke in -blandly. "Surely not I. I am not their judge." - -"General Naniescu," she retorted, "I have been in Transylvania long -enough to know that your powers here as military governor are supreme. -Leniency in this case," she urged insistently, "could only redound to -your credit, and to the credit of the country whom you serve." - -"But frankly, dear lady, I don't see what I can do. The case has passed -out of my hands----" - -"Send these children home with a caution, Monsieur le Général," -Rosemary went on pleading. "That is what we would do in England in a -like case." - -"To hatch more treason," he retorted, with a shrug. "Give us more -trouble--more buzzing of bees and pestilential backbiting----" - -"No!" she protested hotly. "Not for that, but to be immensely grateful -to you for your generosity, and show their gratitude by striving to work -for the good of their country, hand in hand with yours." - -"Ah, what noble sentiments, dear lady!" General Naniescu said with a -sigh and clapped his white, fat hands together. "I wish I could believe -that some of them will sink into those young hotheads." - -"They will, general, they will," Rosemary asserted eagerly. "If you will -send those two children back to their parents, I will not leave -Transylvania until you yourself are satisfied that I have brought them -to a reasonable frame of mind." - -"A hard task, dear lady," Naniescu said, with a smile. - -"I would undertake a harder one than that," Rosemary rejoined, with an -answering smile, "to show my appreciation of your generosity." - -"Words, dear lady," he said softly. "Words!" - -"Try me!" she challenged. - -He made no immediate reply, and suddenly his eyes again narrowed as they -had done before, and their piercing glance rested upon Rosemary until -she felt that through those heavy lids something inimical and poisonous -had touched her. She felt a little shiver running down her spine, an -unaccountable sense of apprehension caused her to glance rapidly toward -the door, where she hoped to perceive Jasper's comforting presence. She -was not afraid, of course, nor did she regret her enthusiasm, or her -advocacy of the children's cause; but she had the sudden, vague feeling -that she had come to the brink of an abyss and that she was staring down -into unknown depths, into which unseen forces were urging her to leap. - -Slowly Naniescu's eyes reopened and the mellow expression crept back -into them; he gave a sigh of satisfaction, and settled himself down once -more comfortably on the cushions of the chair. - -"I am happy indeed, dear lady," he began, "that you yourself should have -made an offer, which I hardly dared to place before you." - -"An offer? What do you mean?" - -"Surely that was your intention, was it not, to do something in return -for the heavy sacrifice you are asking of me?" - -"Sacrifice?" Rosemary queried, frowning. "What sacrifice?" - -"Sacrifice of my convictions. Duty calls to me very insistently in the -matter of those young traitors whom you, dear lady, are pleased to refer -to as children. I know that I should be doing wrong in giving them the -chance of doing more mischief. I know it," he reiterated emphatically, -"with as much certainty as I do the fact that they will not give up -trying to do mischief. But----" - -He paused and fell to studying with obvious satisfaction Rosemary's -beautiful, eager eyes fixed intently upon him. - -"But what, Monsieur le Général?" she asked. - -"But I am prepared to make the sacrifice of my convictions at your -bidding, if you, on the other hand, will do the same at mine." - -Rosemary's frown deepened. "I don't think I quite understand," she said. - -"No," he retorted; "but you will--soon. Let me explain. You, dear lady, -have come to Transylvania wrapped in prejudice as in sheet-armour -against my unfortunate country. Oh, yes, you have," he went on blandly, -checking with an elegant gesture the cry of protest that had risen to -Rosemary's lips. "I am even prepared to admit that nothing that you have -seen in these first few days has tended to pierce that armour of -prejudice. Well, well!" and the general sighed again in that affected -way of his. "You have one of your wonderful sayings in England that -exactly meets this case: 'East is East,' you say, 'and West is West.' -This is the East really, and you Occidentals will never think as we do. -But I am wandering from my point, and you, dear lady, are getting -impatient. Having admitted everything that you would wish me to admit, I -now will come forward with my little proposition--what?" - -"If you please," Rosemary replied coldly. - -"The children, as you are pleased to call them," Naniescu went on with -slow deliberation, shedding his affected manner as a useless garment no -longer required to conceal his thoughts, "the children have done us an -infinity of mischief, in the eyes of the British and American public, by -the publication of articles defamatory to our Government; for this they -have deserved punishment. Now, I propose to remit that punishment if you -will undo the mischief that they have done." - -"I?" Rosemary exclaimed, puzzled. "How?" - -"By publishing newspaper articles that will refute those calumnies once -and for all," the general said blandly. Then, as Rosemary recoiled at -the suggestion as if she had been struck in the face, he went on -cynically: "You are such a brilliant journalist, dear lady, endowed with -a vivid imagination. It will be easy for you to do this for the sake of -those two young traitors in whom you take such a kindly interest. You -may, in your articles, begin by stating the truth, if you like, and say -that my Government invited you to come over to Transylvania in order to -investigate the alleged acts of tyranny that are supposed to be -perpetrated against the minority nationals. Then you will proceed to -state that after impartial and exhaustive inquiry you have come to the -conclusion that practically all the charges brought against us are -unfounded, that with the exception of a few inevitable hardships -consequent on foreign occupation, the minority nationals in Transylvania -are enjoying the utmost freedom and security under the just laws of an -enlightened country. You will----" - -But here the flow of the worthy general's eloquence received a sudden -check in the shape of a rippling outburst of laughter from Rosemary. He -frowned, not understanding her mood, his knowledge of women being -superficial, his thoughts flew to hysteria. He had known a woman -once---- - -As a matter of fact there was something hysterical about Rosemary's -laughter. She checked it as soon as she regained control over herself. -It was as well that she could laugh, that her sense of humour, never -absent in an Englishwoman of intellect, had at once shown her the folly -of giving way to the indignation which had been her first impulse. -Frankly she could not see herself as an outraged tragedy queen -thundering forth an emphatic "Never!" to the Roumanian's impudent -proposals; and when Naniescu marvelled at the strange moods of women and -vainly tried to guess what there was in the present situation to make -this pretty woman laugh, he little knew that Rosemary was laughing at an -imaginary picture of herself, with head thrown back and flaming eyes, -and gestures that rivalled those of the general himself in their elegant -and expressive sweep. - -"You must forgive me, Monsieur le Général," she said presently, "but -your proposition is so funny!" - -"Funny, dear lady?" he protested. "Frankly I do not see----" - -"No," she broke in, "you would not." - -"Will you be so gracious as to explain?" - -"No," Rosemary went on lightly, "I don't think I will. You would not -understand--even then." - -"Then," he said coolly, "there is nothing left for me to do but to take -my leave, and to deplore that you should have wasted so much of your -valuable time in conversation with a clod." - -He rose, and bowing low, he put out his hand in order to take hers, but -Rosemary did not move. - -"You cannot go, Monsieur le Général," she said firmly, "without giving -me a definite answer." - -"I have given you a definite answer, dear lady. It is my misfortune that -you choose to treat it as ludicrous." - -"But surely you were not serious when you suggested----" - -"When I suggested that the mischief wrought by two traitors should be -remedied by one who takes an interest in them? What could be more -serious?" - -"You seriously think," she insisted, "that I would lend myself to such -traffic? that I would put my name to statements which I could not -verify, or to others that I should actually believe to be false? _Ah -çà_, Monsieur le Général, where did you get your conception of -English women of letters, or of English journalists?" - -Naniescu put his finger-tips to his breast, then spread out his hands -with a broad gesture of protest. - -"I was wrong," he said suavely, "utterly wrong. I admit it. Forgive me, -and permit me to take my leave----" - -"Monsieur le Général-------" - -"At your service, dear lady." - -"Young Imrey," she pleaded, "and Anna Heves!" He shrugged his shoulders. - -"I am truly sorry for them," he said unctuously; "but surely you do not -think seriously that I would lend myself to any traffic where the safety -of my country is concerned. _Ah çà_, dear lady," he went on, not only -mocking the very words she had used, but even the inflexion of her -voice, "where did you get your conception of a Roumanian officer or of a -Roumanian gentleman?" - -"It is you who proposed an infamous traffic," she retorted, "not I." - -"Pardon me," he protested. "All that I suggested was that the mischief -done should be remedied in the simplest way before those who had wrought -it could hope for pardon. The mischief was done through the public -Press; it can only be made good through the public Press, and only -through the medium of one as influential as yourself. My suggestion has -not met with your approval. Let us say no more about it." - -Before she could prevent it he had taken her hand and raised it to his -lips. She snatched it away as if her finger-tips had come in contact -with something noxious; the indignation which she had tried so hard to -keep under control flamed for an instant out of her eyes; and Naniescu, -seeing it, gave a soft, guttural laugh. - -"I had a suspicion," he said cynically, "that the situation was not -entirely ludicrous. And now," he went on, "have I your permission to -take my leave?" - -He bowed once more, hand on breast, heels clicking, and was on the point -of turning to go when an impulsive cry from Rosemary brought him to a -halt. - -"That is not your last word, General Naniescu?" - -"Indeed," he replied with utmost gallantry, "but the last word rests -with you, dear lady. I am ever at your service. Only," he continued very -slowly and very deliberately, "let me assure you once and for all that -young Imrey and Anna Heves will appear before the military courts on a -charge of treason unless a series of articles written in the spirit I -have had the honour to outline before you, and bearing your -distinguished name, appear in--shall we say the _Times?_--within the -next month. But, just to show you how greatly I value your regard, I -will be as lenient as my duty permits. I will even allow those two young -traitors to return, temporarily, to their homes. Philip Imrey and Anna -Heves will be brought here in the course of a day or two. They will be -free, within certain limitations, to move about among their friends. I -need not add, dear lady, that you, on the other hand, are absolutely -free, without any limitations, to come and go as you choose. On the day -that the last of your brilliant articles will have appeared in the -_Times_ Imrey and his cousin will receive a free pardon from the -Government which they have outraged." - -He paused a moment, then raised one hairy, manicured finger and added -with theatrical emphasis: - -"But not before." - -Rosemary had listened to his long speech without moving a muscle. She -stood straight as a sapling, looking unflinchingly at the man, striving -to shame him, yet knowing that in this she would not succeed. There was -no room for shame or compunction in that bundle of conceit and -depravity. - -Fear, too, appeared to be one of the tortuous motives which had -suggested this ignominious "either-or." How far the Roumanian Government -was a party to the mishandling of Transylvania, Rosemary had not yet had -the opportunity of ascertaining. - -She strongly suspected Naniescu of having overstretched his powers, and -of dreading an exposure at Bucharest more, perhaps, than in London or -New York. Now, when he had finished speaking, and while his mellow eyes -still rested with gentle mockery upon her, she could not keep back the -final taunt which she hoped would sting him as much as his had stung -her. - -"What proof have I," she queried slowly, "that if I fulfil my share of -the bargain you will not in the end repudiate yours?" - -He smiled, quite undisturbed. - -"You mistrust me. It is only natural," he said unctuously. "But what can -I do?" - -"Write me a letter," she replied coldly, "embodying your terms for the -release of Philip Imrey and Anna Heves, and your promise to keep to the -bargain if I accept those terms." - -"Will that satisfy you?" he asked. - -"It would hold you to your word, at any rate. For if it did not----" - -He gave his soft, throaty laugh, and a glimmer of satisfaction shot -through his eyes. - -"You Englishwomen are truly marvellous," he observed. "So business-like. -Everything in black and white--what?" - -"Preferably," she rejoined drily. - -"Well, then, you shall have the letter, dear lady," he concluded -blandly. "And I promise you that I shall so tie myself down to my share -of this interesting transaction that you will not hesitate any longer to -fulfil yours." - -And the next moment, even while Rosemary turned towards the window in -order to look for one brief moment, at any rate, on something clean and -pure, Naniescu had gone, softly closing the door behind him and leaving -in his wake a faint odour of Havana cigar and eau de Cologne, and an -atmosphere of intrigue which Rosemary felt to be stifling. She threw -open the window and inhaled the clean air right down into her lungs. Her -thoughts were still in a whirl. The situation was so impossible that her -brain at present rejected it. It could not be. Things like this did not -occur. It was not modern. Not twentieth century. Not post-war. Civilised -men and women did not have interviews such as she had just had with this -smooth-tongued Roumanian. There was something mediæval about this -"either-or," this impasse to which in very truth there was no issue. - -Rosemary now started pacing up and down the room. She was alone and -could indulge in this time-tried method of soothing jangled nerves. With -both forefingers she tapped her temples, as if to stimulate the work of -a jaded brain. Issue? There must be an issue to this impasse. She was a -British subject, the wife of an English peer. She could not be bullied -into doing things against which her sense of honour rebelled. She could -not be made to lend her name to falsehoods, knowing them to be -falsehoods. Of course not. Of course not. She could not be compelled to -write a single line she would not wish to see published. - -She could not be compelled. That was a fact. An undisputable, hard, -solid fact. What then? Well, then there were Philip and Anna, who would -be brought before the military courts on a charge of treason. And the -military courts would condemn them--to what? To death? No! No! No! Not -to death! Philip and little Anna: children whom she knew and loved! -Condemned to death! Shot! like Edith Cavell, or Captain Fryatt! Shot! -But that was in war time! Now the world was at peace! The Treaty of -Versailles was the millennium that would bring peace on earth, goodwill -toward men! Peace! This was peace! Foolish, thoughtless children could -not in peace time be shot as traitors! - -Tap-tap went Rosemary's fingers against her temples. Peace, ye gods! -Philip and Anna had rendered themselves liable to human justice, and -human justice in this half-forgotten corner of God's earth knew but one -law--revenge! Philip and Anna would be condemned--and shot, unless she, -Rosemary Tarkington, gained a free pardon for them at the price of -truth, honour and the welfare, perhaps, of thousands of innocents. - -And as gradually this awful alternative penetrated into the innermost -recesses of her brain, the girl looked wildly about her like an animal -suddenly fallen into a trap. Her knees all at once gave way under her, -and she fell up against the sofa, with arms outspread upon the cushions. -With head thrown back, she gazed unseeing up at the ceiling, and this -time it was a real hysterical outburst that caused her to laugh and to -laugh, until laughter broke into a sob, and burying her face in her -hands she burst into a flood of tears. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -Rosemary, being very human and very young, felt all the better after she -had had a good cry. Better mentally, that is to say. Physically she was -tired, hot, overstrained; her eyes ached, her limbs ached, her head -ached, but mentally she felt better. - -Presently she struggled back to her feet, dabbed her eyes with cold -water, put powder on her nose and a comb through her hair. She did not -want to look a sight when presently Jasper came back from his walk; and -she told him all that had happened. - -By the way, where was Jasper? - -Rosemary was just aching to review the whole situation with him. No need -now for secrecy with regard to Philip and little Anna's foolish -conspiracy. Soon the whole world would know of it, friend and foe alike. -And Jasper would be able to help, of course, or at any rate to advise. -He had done so much for the Roumanian Government in the past, there was -just a chance they might do something at his request--out of gratitude. - -Gratitude? Rosemary smiled ironically to herself at thought of -connecting so gentle an emotion with men like Naniescu. Still, Jasper -might think of something, of some way out of the situation, which -Rosemary still persisted in thinking unreal. It was, of course, the -climax of a plan formed as far back as the Five Arts' Ball at the Albert -Hall, when Naniescu first proposed to her that she should come to -Transylvania. To get her here, then to close on Philip and Anna a trap -which had no doubt long ago been set, and finally to use them as a lever -in order to force her, Rosemary, to write those articles which would -soothe the vanity of Roumanian bureaucrats and throw dust in the eyes of -the sentimental public. - -As if in response to Rosemary's wish for his presence, Jasper presently -walked in, courteous, chivalrous, full of apologies for having left her -to face Naniescu alone. - -"I must have been dreaming," he said contritely, "while I wandered out -of the park, for, all of a sudden, I found myself away upon the -mountain-side, thinking of you. Your dear face peeped at me through the -trees and then I realized that I was leaving you in the lurch, and that -you might be wanting me--and I not there! Can you, I wonder, forgive -me?" - -He sat down beside her on the sofa and took her hand, and one by one he -kissed each rosy finger-tip. - -"Wherever I am, little one," he said softly, "I always see you. Your -presence beside me this morning was so real that I was never wholly -conscious that you were not actually there. Will you forgive me?" he -asked again. - -Rosemary turned to him with a smile. There was no one in the world quite -so kind as Jasper; his kind, grave eyes were fixed on her with such a -look of adoration that instinctively Rosemary nestled closer to him like -a trusting child, and on an impulse she told him everything: the arrest -of Philip Imrey and of little Anna, and Naniescu's infamous proposal. - -But Jasper didn't say much. He did not even seem very attentive; while -she spoke of little Anna, of Philip and of Naniescu, his mind appeared -to wander, as if he were thinking of something else, and Rosemary -hearkened in vain for a word of indignation from him when she told him -about Naniescu's abominable "either-or." Yet she studied his face very -closely, those fine aristocratic features with their somewhat affected -wearied expression, and the dark eyes set closely together like those of -an eagle or a hawk. He said nothing. He only looked as if he were -thinking hard. Pondering over something that puzzled and worried him. -Rosemary wondered what it was. And later on, when she pressed him with -questions, he seemed to drag himself back to the present situation with -a great effort of nerve and will, and even then he did not appear to -have a firm grasp of it. He put irrelevant counter-questions, and once -or twice answered at random. His chief concern seemed to be that she, -Rosemary, knowing the foolish game Philip and Anna were playing, had not -succeeded in putting a stop to it. - -"The girl appeared sensible enough," he said almost irritably. "I -believe she would have listened to you. That sort of thing is just -romantic nonsense. It never does any good, and more often than not it -brings trouble on the innocent rather than on the guilty. The same thing -applies to the Germans, the Austrians and to the Hungarians. They have -been beaten and they have got to take their punishment. All these -political intrigues are just folly!" - -Of course Jasper was right. Of course he was sensible, and just and -clear-thinking. But while Rosemary paid ungrudging tribute to his -judgment, she felt more and more chilled by his total lack not only of -sympathy, but even of attention, as if the matter of Philip and Anna's -life and liberty hardly interested him. Now Rosemary hardly liked to ask -him for advice, for fear he might tell her to assent to Naniescu's -wish--and to write those articles against which her sense of right and -wrong, of truth and professional honour rebelled. - -She could almost hear Jasper saying: - -"You can get quite near the truth in your articles and satisfy Naniescu -and you will save those two hotheads from the consequences of their own -indiscretion. Believe me you would be doing far more good that way to -this miserable country than Philip ever did with his ill-considered -articles." - -Perhaps Jasper had actually said all this. Rosemary could not be sure. -For the last few minutes her mind had been absent from her body. It had -flown over mountains and seas, right across the great plains of Hungary -and the fields of waving corn, to a small, dark corner in the crowded -Albert Hall, with noisy jazz music buzzing in the distance like phantom -melodies, with laughter and chatter all around, glittering jewels, -fantastic clothes and waving fans; and here Rosemary's mind came to a -halt and insistently beckoned to memory. She recalled every moment of -that night, every incident stood oat like a picture before her now: the -dance with Peter, and then the box with the heavy curtains that shut her -right out of the world--alone with Peter. She recalled every line of his -face, those fine white hands made to meld brush or pen rather than a -cricket-ball, the fair, curly head, the tense dark eyes. - -What sympathy she would have got from Peter if only he were here! His -judgment, perhaps, would not have been so sound as Jasper's: Rosemary -would not feel that she could rely on Peter to say or do only what was -right, what was just and reasonable. He would be guided by his heart and -not by his head; he would be wrong, no doubt--utterly wrong--in his -judgments, in his advice. But oh! he would be so human, so full of pity, -so understanding! And for the first time since her marriage to Jasper, -Rosemary allowed herself to think of Peter, to long for Peter, to mourn -that which Peter had meant in her life: youth, humanity and enthusiasm. - -And suddenly she was brought back to Kis-Imre and to the reality of the -present situation by a direct question put to her by Jasper: - -"Why didn't you tell me, dear, that Peter Blakeney was in Transylvania?" - -Jasper had put the question quite gently and kindly. He never put on -with Rosemary any airs of marital authority, nor was there even a hint -of reproach in his tone. But the question did bring Rosemary's mind back -in a second from the Albert Hall to Kis-Imre. She frowned, very much -puzzled, and turned to look straight at Jasper. He, too, appeared to -have come back to Kis-Imre from the land of nowhere. He still had on a -puzzled and pondering expression, but with it a certain look of -hardness, which he seldom had when his wife was nigh. - -"Peter Blakeney?" Rosemary asked slowly. "What in the world do you -mean?" - -"Don't look so scared, little one," Jasper rejoined, his stern face -breaking into a smile. "As a matter of fact the whole thing has puzzled -me to such an extent that I am afraid I must have appeared very -unresponsive just now----" He paused, and, leaning forward, he rested -his elbows on his knees, and instead of looking at his wife, he gazed -intently down on his hands, as if he wished to avoid making her feel -uncomfortable by staring directly at her. - -"A moment ago," he resumed presently, "as I was crossing the hall, -General Naniescu came out of the smoking-room into the outer vestibule. -He did not see me, and I was just debating in my mind whether I would -speak to him when he turned to a young officer who was evidently in -attendance, and what he said to him was this: 'Ring up Mr. Blakeney at -once and tell him I will see him about the business at five o'clock this -afternoon; you may tell him that on the whole I think I have been -successful.'" - -"Impossible!" Rosemary exclaimed impulsively. - -"So I thought at the time," Jasper rejoined. "Therefore I recrossed the -hall and spoke a few words to Naniescu. He appeared vexed when he saw -me, and I distinctly saw him make a sign to the officer, who did not -then go to the telephone, although a moment ago Naniescu had ordered him -to ring up at once. I kept the general talking for a few minutes in the -hall. He did not refer to his conversation with you, nor did he refer in -any way to Peter." - -"You must have misunderstood the name," Rosemary insisted. - -"I thought so at first, but I had confirmation of it later on. Naniescu -very obviously and very clumsily manœuvred me toward the dining-room, -the doors of which were wide open. As soon as he had got me into the -room he closed the doors. Now, I happen to have very sharp ears, and -although Naniescu talked to me at the top of his voice I distinctly -heard what was going on in the hall. The officer called up the Hôtel -New York at Cluj, after which there was a pause. I tried to take my -leave of the general, for I wanted to come up to you, but he would not -let me go. He talked incessantly and always at the top of his voice on -all sorts of irrelevant topics. He dragged me to the window at the -farther end of the room to show me the view. He tried to persuade me to -go out with him for a turn in the park. Finally fortune favoured me; my -sharp ears caught the ring of the telephone bell. I gave Naniescu the -slip and just had the door open when I heard the officer say quite -distinctly in French: - -"'Is that you, Mr. Blakeney? Mr. Blakeney, his Excellency will see -you----' At this point," Jasper went on, "Naniescu with a loud guffaw -took hold of my arm and made some facetious remark which I did not -catch. However, he had made it so obvious that he did not wish me to -hear the telephone message, and, on the other hand, I had heard the -officer name Peter so distinctly that I allowed myself to be dragged -back into the room, and made no further attempt to pry into -Naniescu's--or Peter's--secrets." - -"But this is all nonsense," Rosemary broke in warmly. "Peter is not in -Transylvania. I am sure he is not. He would have told me. He would have -let me know. It is some other Blakeney whom Naniescu was calling up." - -Jasper shrugged. "Perhaps," he said quietly. - -"I am sure," Rosemary insisted. - -Jasper said nothing more after that, and Rosemary was conscious of a -feeling of irritation against him, because he was so obviously convinced -that Peter was in Transylvania and in secret communication with that -odious Naniescu. How could he imagine such a thing? Peter! Peter with -the lovely Hungarian mother! Peter? Nonsense! But Rosemary could not sit -still. She jumped to her feet and began fidgeting about the room, -arranging her dress, her hair, fidgeting, fidgeting. She would not look -at Jasper, and she was determined not to say anything more. He would -discover his mistake soon enough, and if she said anything now she might -use words, phrases, expressions which later on she would regret. - -Peter intriguing with a Roumanian! Nonsense! And yet her nerves were -terribly on edge, more so now than they were after her interview with -Naniescu. And she could not bear to look at Jasper. She was afraid that -she would hate him for his thoughts about Peter. Fortunately after a -little while the luncheon-bell sounded. Jasper jumped to his feet. He -too seemed relieved that the subject of Peter could now be conveniently -dropped. - -"Will you see Elza?" he said abruptly. - -"Elza?" Rosemary asked. "Why?" - -"Naniescu and his suite are in the house," Jasper replied dryly. "They -will stay to lunch. I don't know what Elza will feel about it." - -"She will feel as I do," Rosemary retorted hotly, "that the man's -presence at her table is an outrage." - -"But he told me that Philip and Anna will be allowed to come home." - -"Yes. Provisionally. Until I----" - -"Elza need not know about that," Jasper broke in hurriedly. "That is why -I thought you would see her. She need not know that Philip's release is -only--conditional----" - -Rosemary thought the matter over for a moment. As always, Jasper was -right. Elza need not know. Not yet. - -"Shall I go to her now," she said, "and tell her?" - -"I think it would come best from you. It will be such good news for her, -poor thing." - -"Poor darling!" Rosemary sighed; then she added more coldly: "But what -about me?" - -"What do you mean?" - -"Am I expected to sit at table with that mealy-mouthed Roumanian?" - -Jasper smiled. "How else would you explain the situation to Elza?" he -asked. - -All this had brought about a fresh train of thought, and Rosemary was -quite thankful that Jasper was showing such sympathy for Elza. He was -quite right. Elza need not be told that the release of Philip and Anna -was only conditional. There was a month still ahead before Elza need be -told the truth. - -"Will you keep Naniescu talking," Rosemary said finally, "while I see -Elza?" - -She looked quite cool and self-possessed now, beautifully dressed, one -row of perfect pearls round her neck, circles of diamonds in her ears, a -great lady conscious of her own beauty. "How wonderful you are!" came as -an involuntary exclamation from her husband's lips, and his dark, -deep-set eyes lit up with a sudden flash of passionate admiration as -they rested on the vision of loveliness before him. - -Then together they went out of the room, Rosemary just a step or two in -front of her husband. She still could not bear to look at him, and when -she caught his look of bold admiration she coldly turned her head away. -Obedient to her wish, he went downstairs to keep Naniescu talking, while -she went to break the good news to Elza. But walking along the stately -gallery that led to her hostess's rooms, Rosemary's thoughts were not -with Elza, her lips were murmuring almost audibly: - -Peter intriguing with a Roumanian? - -What nonsense! - -Jasper must be mad! - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -The moment that Rosemary came into the room she guessed that Elza -somehow or other had heard the news. She had tears in her big, kind -eyes, but they were tears of emotion, not of sorrow or anxiety. - -"Philip is coming home with Anna!" she cried as soon as she caught sight -of Rosemary. - -"Who told you?" Rosemary asked. - -"General Naniescu sent his captain to tell me. I only knew it five -minutes ago. But oh, my dear, they have been _such_ five minutes!" - -Rosemary kissed her with tender affection. She did not feel somehow as -if she could say much. - -"Isn't it wonderful?" Elza went on while she put a few finishing touches -to her toilet. "And has not Naniescu been kind? Of course I knew that -they could not do anything to Philip because he has done nothing, and I -don't believe that Anna did anything either. But you know, my dear, -these days some awful mistakes do occur. But," she added lightly, "I -have so often experienced it in life that men are not nearly so cruel as -they are credited to be. One is so apt to pass judgment on insufficient -evidence. Give a man the chance of doing a kind act, that is my motto, -and he will nearly always do it." - -Fortunately that Elza was rather fussy for the moment, fidgeting about -the room and obviously trying to calm her nerves, so she did not notice -Rosemary's silent, unresponsive way. - -"When do you expect Philip and Anna?" Rosemary said at last. - -"This afternoon," Elza exclaimed, and her words rang out like a little -cry of joy. "And you know Maurus is so happy that he has actually gone -down in order to say something civil to Naniescu, who, of course, is -staying for lunch. Well," she added after a moment or two, when she had -gathered up her keys, her rings, her handkerchief, and given a final tap -to her hair, "shall we go down too?" - -Without a word Rosemary followed her. She felt as if she must choke. -Elza's happiness was going to be the most severe trial of all during -this terrible month that lay ahead of her. - -"Oh, and I was almost forgetting," Elza resumed, while she tripped -lightly along the gallery towards the stairs, "the smaller joy beside -the greater--the greatest one! I have heard from Peter Blakeney." - -"From Peter?" - -"Yes. He is at Cluj, at the New York. He is over here about some -arrangement he wants to make for a cricket match or something silly of -that sort--you know what Peter is: quite mad about that silly cricket. I -had a letter from him this morning, but when it came I had no thought -for anything except Philip. I must let you read it presently. I don't -really know what he says, but if he is at Cluj we are sure to see him -very soon." - -She prattled on as merry as a bird. She seemed twenty years younger all -of a sudden--her step was light and springy, her eyes were bright, her -voice was fresh and clear. Rosemary kept on repeating to herself: - -"She need not know for at least three weeks. She need not know, and I -must pretend--pretend--at any cost. She will know soon enough, poor -darling." - -And Rosemary did manage to pretend; for the next three hours she was -just an automaton, wound up to play a certain part. To everyone she had -to pretend--to Elza, to Maurus, to that odious Naniescu, and even to -Jasper. The worst of all was pretending to Jasper, for from this she got -no reprieve. Jasper's kind, anxious eyes were on her all the time, and -she would not let him see that she was anxious about Peter. Somehow the -episode about Peter had made everything so much worse. Not that she -harboured the thought for a moment that Peter was intriguing with -Naniescu. That, of course, was out of the question. He had come to -arrange something about a cricket match, and, of course, he had to see -Naniescu about it, get his permission, and so on. There were ten chances -to one that Peter had written to her and told her all about it, and that -his letter had gone astray. No, no, no! There could be no thought of an -intrigue between Peter and these Roumanians; but Rosemary felt that -Jasper thought there was, and was vaguely pitying her because of some -unknown treachery on Peter's part. It was odious! - -And with it all Elza's obvious happiness was almost intolerable to -witness, and even Maurus departed from his habitual ill-temper to -exchange facetious remarks with Naniescu. Time seemed leaden-footed. The -interminable luncheon dragged on wearily, as did the hour of coffee and -liqueurs, of endless small talk and constant pretence. But even the -worst moments in life must become things of the past sooner or later, -and when Rosemary began to feel that she could not stand the whole thing -any longer, she found that Naniescu and his officers were actually -taking their leave. - -After luncheon Jasper was quite charming. He had thought the whole -matter over, he said, and decided that it was in his power to make a -personal appeal to the King in favour of Philip and Anna. He had -certainly rendered more than one signal service to Roumania during and -after the war, and he thought that in these countries personal influence -counted a great deal. At any rate, there would be no harm in trying, and -he would start for Bucharest immediately. He had spoken about the -proposed journey to Elza and Maurus, alleging official business, and -Elza had already arranged that he should be driven into Cluj in time for -the afternoon express. Rosemary's heart was at once filled with -gratitude; she felt angry with herself for having mistrusted him. She -threw herself whole-heartedly into the preparations for his journey, -lulling her troubled soul with the belief that it would prove to be the -happy issue out of this terrible situation. When it was time for him to -go she wished him God-speed with more fervour and affection than she had -shown him for days. - -"Bar accidents," he assured her, "I shall be back in a fortnight. If I -have definite good news to report I will wire. But even if you don't -hear from me, I shall be back, as I say, in fifteen days." - -"I shall count the hours until your return," she said. - -"And in the meanwhile," he urged with deep earnestness, "you will do -nothing without consulting me." - -She smiled at this want of logic, so unlike her methodical husband. - -"I could not consult you, dear," she said. "You won't be here." - -"No, no, I know," he insisted; "but I want you to promise that you will -leave things as they are until my return. I don't want you to give -anything away to Elza, or to Philip or Anna. Promise me." - -"Of course I'll promise," she replied readily. "God knows I don't want -to be the one to break the awful news to them." - -"Or to Peter," he added gravely. - -"Peter?" - -"I want you to promise me--to promise, Rosemary, that you will not speak -of this miserable affair to Peter Blakeney." - -Then, as she seemed to hesitate, vaguely puzzled at his desperate -earnestness, he again insisted: - -"Promise me, Rosemary, whatever you may hear, whatever you may see, -whatever may be planned by Elza or anybody else, promise me that you -will not speak of it to Peter." - -"But, Jasper," she exclaimed, "why? Of course I will promise, if you -wish it, but frankly I don't understand why you insist, so solemnly -too," she added, trying to assume a lightness of heart which she was far -from feeling. Then she went on more gravely: "I could trust Peter as I -would myself." - -"You can put it down to nerves," Jasper said, with the ghost of a smile, -"to intuition or foreboding, or merely to jealousy and my wretched -character, to anything you please, my dear one. But promise me! Promise -me that everything in connexion with this miserable affair will remain -just between you and me. Let the others talk, guess, plan. Promise me -that you will never speak of it with Peter. Promise me, or I will throw -up the sponge, remain here to look after you, and let Naniescu do his -worst with the lot of them." - -Thus, alternately demanding, entreating, threatening, he extracted the -promise from her, even though her heart cried out against what she felt -was treachery to Peter. Jasper's insistence filled her with a vague -sense of foreboding not unmixed with fear; and yet, the very next -moment, as soon as he had her promise, he became tender, soft, loving, -as if trying to make her forget his solemn earnestness of a while ago. -He took her in his arms and gazed into her eyes with an intensity of -longing which made her own heart ache with self-reproach. - -"If God there be," he whispered softly, as if to himself, "it was cruel -of Him to make you so beautiful--and so desirable." - -Again his mood had changed. Tenderness had turned into passion, fierce, -almost primeval, and he held her now more like a man defending the -greatest treasure he possessed on God's earth than like a husband taking -affectionate leave of his wife. - -"If I should lose you, Rosemary," he murmured, "because of this." - -She tried to laugh and to speak flippantly. "Lose me?" she said. "You -have little chance of doing that, my dear, for this or any other cause. -Naniescu has not the power of life and death over me," she added more -seriously. - -There was something about Jasper at this moment that she could not -entirely fathom. Twice before she had seen him in these moods of violent -passion akin almost to savagery, when she felt utterly helpless and -absolutely in his power. She had the feeling that when he was in one of -these moods he was capable of any violence against her if she dared to -disobey or resist. Not that Rosemary was afraid; she had never in her -life been afraid of anyone; but she had always been mistress of herself, -and at this moment, held tightly by the man to whom she had sworn love -and fealty, she felt like a slave of olden times in the grip of her -lord. - -"You--you will care for me some day, Rosemary?" he asked with passionate -earnestness. "Say that you will some day, when all this--all this is -forgotten, and we are back again in England, free to live our own lives, -free to love. You will care for me then, Rosemary, will you not? For I -could not live beside you for long, feeling all the time that you did -not belong to me with your whole soul. You have such haunting eyes--eyes -such as pixies and fairies have--maddening eyes. I should go crazy -presently if I failed to kindle the love-light in those eyes." - -He kissed her eyes, her mouth, her throat. Rosemary would have -struggled, would have screamed if she dared. Fortunately a knock at the -door and the entrance of one of the menservants, who came to fetch -milord's luggage, put an end to a situation which Rosemary found very -difficult to endure. After the man had gone the spell appeared to be -broken. Jasper became once more the courteous, grave man of the world he -had always been. The episode of a moment ago did not seem to have -occurred at all, as far as he was concerned, and while Rosemary felt her -teeth chattering and the palms of her hands were covered with a cold -sweat, Jasper moved about the room and spoke to her about his proposed -journey, his certain return in a fortnight, as if nothing had happened. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -The carriage which took Jasper to Cluj brought back Philip and Anna. -After that the house was full of animation, like a beehive in May. -Rosemary only saw the two young people for a moment. She felt a stranger -in this family gathering, and her heart was so heavy that she soon found -a pretext for going up to her room. Later on she pleaded a headache. -Kind and hospitable as were these dear people, Rosemary felt that they -must wish to be alone amongst themselves after the terrible time they -had all gone through. They would have so much to talk over that the -presence of a stranger, even so welcome an one as Rosemary Tarkington, -must of necessity be irksome. It was clear to her from the first that -Philip and Anna knew little, if anything, of the conditions attached to -their release. Philip talked lightly of their being under surveillance -for a time, and then added quite gaily that he would gladly lead the -life of a hermit in Kis-Imre and never go outside the gates until the -present clouds blew over. He gave himself wholly up to the joy of -watching his mother's happiness and seeing her dear eyes beaming on her -returned boy. Altogether he was more like a schoolboy who by a fluke has -escaped punishment than a man conscious of a deadly peril that had not -ceased to threaten him. - -They all sat up talking late into the evening, and when Rosemary found -herself at last alone in her room, trying to think things out before she -went to bed, little Anna came up to her. The child looked hollow-eyed -and grave; the joy that had been on her face when she first found -herself in this second home of hers had all gone. She looked old, wan -and tired out. - -Rosemary put out her arms, and Anna ran up to her and snuggled up close -to her, just like a child. For a long time she was quite silent, with -her head against her friend's shoulder, her little, thin hands held in -Rosemary's kind, firm grasp. Now and again a hot tear would fall on -Rosemary's hands. Anna, was crying quietly to herself, and Rosemary -waited until the girl was calm enough to speak. - -"I don't understand the whole thing, Rosemary," were the first words -that Anna spoke. - -"What is it you don't understand, dear?" Rosemary asked. - -"It is not like them to be lenient, is it?" the girl retorted, looking -up with quick, eager inquiry into her friend's face. - -"Oh, in this case," Rosemary rejoined vaguely, "you are both so young!" - -Anna shook her head vigorously. - -"That wouldn't worry them," she said, "after all the trouble they must -have taken to track us down." - -"You were caught in the act, I suppose?" Rosemary queried. - -Anna nodded. - -"Yes," she said. "And that was strange too. I had all my parcels -ready--the usual ones for Budapest, and Philip's manuscript at the -bottom of a box of vegetable seeds. Half a dozen soldiers and an officer -came into the shop and walked straight up to the place where the parcels -were stacked. They seemed to know all about everything, for the officer -just ordered his men to undo all the parcels, and, of course, there was -Philip's manuscript." - -"There's nothing strange in all that, Anna," Rosemary said. "I have no -doubt in my mind that you both have been watched for some time by secret -service men, and at last they closed their trap on you." - -But once more Anna shook her head. - -"I can't explain what I mean," she said, and puckered her fine straight -brows together. "It is a kind of intuition that came to me when I saw -those soldiers walk in. I am absolutely convinced that we were not -denounced by regular Government spies. They are too clumsy, and we were -too careful. I am certain," she reiterated obstinately, "that we were -not denounced by one of them." - -"By whom, then?" - -"Ah, that I don't know. It is an awful feeling I have. You know I never -believed in all that so-called psychic nonsense which is so fashionable -just now, but the feeling I have is not just an ordinary one. It is so -strong that I cannot fight against it. It is a feeling that -eyes--eyes--are always watching me and Philip--cruel eyes--eyes that -wish us evil--that _will_ us to do something foolish, unconsidered, -something that will get us again into trouble, and for good this time." - -"You are overwrought, Anna dear," Rosemary put in gently. "And no -wonder! Of course, we all know that there are Government spies all over -the place, and you and Philip will have to be doubly careful in the -future; but here in Kis-Imre you are among friends. Your Aunt Elza's -servants are all of them Hungarian and thoroughly to be trusted." - -Anna said nothing. She was staring straight out in front of her, as if -trying to meet those mysterious eyes which were for ever watching her. -An involuntary cry of horror rose to Rosemary's lips. - -"Anna!" she exclaimed, "you don't think that I----" - -But before she could complete her sentence Anna's arms were round her. - -"Of course not. Of course not," the girl murmured tenderly. "Rosemary -darling, of course not!" - -"I never spoke about your affairs to a single soul, Anna," Rosemary said -gravely. "I give you my solemn word of honour that I never even -mentioned the thing to my husband until after your arrest, when, of -course, all the facts became public property." - -"I know, Rosemary, I know," Anna repeated. "I would trust you with every -secret. I would trust you with my life--with Philip's life." - -"And you did not trust anyone else?" Rosemary asked. - -"I never breathed a word about it to a living soul, except to you and -Peter Blakeney." - -"Peter knew?" - -"Yes, Peter knew." - -"You wrote to him?" Rosemary insisted. "Ah, then I understand. Your -letters were held up by the censor, and----" - -"No, I never wrote to Peter what Philip and I were doing; but you know -he arrived in Cluj the day before I was arrested. He came to arrange -some cricket match or other between Roumanians and Hungarians. I don't -know anything about cricket, but, of course, Peter was full of it. He -came to see me at my lodgings, quite unexpectedly. I was so surprised to -see him, and so happy, as I am very, very fond of Peter. We talked till -late into the evening, and somehow I had to tell him everything. But -except for that one talk with Peter, and the one I had with you, I never -breathed a word about what Philip and I were doing, not to a living -soul!" - -Rosemary said nothing for the moment. Indeed, there was nothing much -that she could say. Little Anna had got hold of the idea that some -mysterious agency had been at work and brought about her and Philip's -arrest. But, after all, what did it matter? Professional spies or -insidious traitor? What difference did it make in the end? Anna was -frightened because she feared a fresh denunciation. She did not know -that her poor little life was already forfeit, that she was just a mouse -whom the cat had allowed to run free for a moment or two, and that she -would be pounced upon again unless her friend Rosemary, whom she trusted -with her whole soul, bought freedom and life for her. - -But it was not thoughts of Anna that sealed Rosemary's lips at this -moment and left her mute, motionless, like an insentient log, with -Anna's cold little hand held tightly in her own. Anna had not spoken of -her activities or her plans to anyone except to Peter. And Jasper had -extracted a promise from her, Rosemary, that she would not speak of -Philip's or Anna's affairs to Peter. What connexion was there between -Jasper's insistence and that other awful thought which, strive as she -might, would haunt Rosemary's brain like a hideous ghoul risen out of -hell? What mystery lurked in the denunciation of these children, in -their release, in the alternative which Naniescu had placed before her? -What hidden powers were at work, threatening her with shame and the -children with death? - -Rosemary felt stifled. Rising abruptly, she went to the window and -stepped out on the balcony. The moon was up, a honey-coloured, waning -moon that threw its cool, mysterious light on park land and lake and the -distant pine forest beyond. Immediately below the balcony a bed of -tuberoses, with wax-like corollas that shimmered white and spectral, -sent their intoxicating odour through the balmy air. And against the -background of dense shrubberies a couple of fireflies gleamed and darted -aimlessly, ceaselessly, in and out of the shadows. Rosemary, seeing -them, was reminded of what Anna had said just now--that eyes were for -ever looking at her, cruel eyes, eyes that were on the watch, spying, -spying. - -Suddenly she clapped her hand to her mouth, smothering a sharp cry that -had risen to her throat; and instinctively she stepped back into the -room and hastily closed the window. - -"What is it, Rosemary darling?" Anna asked. - -"Nothing, dearie, nothing," Rosemary replied quickly. "The smell of -those tuberoses made me feel queer. That's all." - -She could not tell Anna that while she watched the fireflies, and the -air was so still, so still that not a blade of grass shivered, and even -the leaves of the aspen were at rest, she had perceived a tremor amongst -the laurel bushes and seen some of the tall branches held back by a -hand, each finger of which was outlined by the silvery light of the -moon. And above the hand she had sensed a pair of eyes that were looking -up at her. - -She tried to talk lightly with Anna, to infuse into her some of the -buoyancy of mind which she was far from feeling herself. She was sure -that Anna had a vague consciousness of the danger that hung over her and -those she cared for; the only thing she could not know was that her fate -and theirs lay in the hands of the friend whom she trusted. How would -she--how would they all--bear the knowledge when it came to them, as -come it must? How would she, Rosemary, face the reproach which, even if -unspoken by them, would haunt her to the end of her life: "You might -have saved us, if you would." - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -And it was that spectre which from that hour haunted Rosemary; it would -not allow her to rest at night; it dogged her steps by day. When she -walked in the park and the soft summer breeze stirred the branches of -Lombardy poplars or the stately plumes of maize, ghostly voices would -seem to be whispering all around her: "Life and liberty for Philip and -Anna! Life and liberty for those two children who love and trust you, -who know nothing of the fate that hangs over them!" And when she was in -the house at meals or in the family circle, with Elza radiating -happiness and even Maurus unbending, with Philip almost feverishly gay -and Anna thoughtful, the eyes of all these kind, dear people whom she -loved seemed full of reproach to the one woman who could save them--if -she would. - -Then Rosemary, unable to pretend any longer, would run up to her room; -and she--one of the most sane, most level-headed women in this neurotic -age--would throw herself on her knees and pray to be taken out of it -all. Oh! to be out of it--underground--anywhere! Just to be out of it, -not to see those smiles, that happiness, that contentment which she knew -must presently end in a devastating catastrophe. To be out of it when -the time came--in a few weeks--days--hours! - -Hour followed hour, doll and leaden-footed. And they were all so happy -at Kis-Imre! Suspecting nothing! Knowing nothing, whilst Rosemary felt -her self-control slipping away from her day by day. At times she felt as -if she could not endure the situation any longer, as if she most tell -one of them. Tell Elza, or Maurus, or the children! Surely they should -know! There comes a time when a doctor, knowing that his patient cannot -recover, is bound in all humanity to tell him. Then surely it was -Rosemary's duty to say to them all: "You don't know! You have not -guessed! But you are doomed. Doomed! Philip and Anna to death! You Elza -and Maurus to worse than death--limitless sorrow. Now you are just -living on a volcano. In another few days--twenty, nineteen, -eighteen--the flames will break through, the earth will totter under -your feet, and everything you care for in the world will be engulfed. -You will perish. Yes, you! All of you! And then you will know about me! -How I might have saved you and did not. And you will hate me as no woman -has ever been hated before. And I shall go forth into the vast -wilderness which is called the world. And I, too, shall perish of sorrow -and endless regret!" - -She had not again seen those mysterious eyes which that evening, while -little Anna was talking, had peered at her from behind the laurel -bushes; and she was far too sensible to dwell on what might only, after -all, have been the creation of overwrought nerves. - -The time was drawing near for Jasper's return. "Fifteen days," he had -said; and she knew that, bar accidents, he would keep his word. But she -had no news of him, and after the first week she ceased to expect any. -She would not own, even to herself, that she had already ceased to build -hopes in that direction. Jasper had promised to wire as soon as he heard -anything definite, so in this case no news was bad news. Dear kind -Jasper! he knew how miserably anxious she was! He would not keep good -news from her--not one hour. - -It was on the tenth day that Peter arrived at the castle. He had -announced his coming twenty-four hours previously, and in a moment there -was excitement from attic to cellar in the house. Everybody seemed to be -arranging something. Planning something. Tennis excursions, dancing! -Peter was such a good dancer! They would have the gipsies over from -Bonczhida. That was the finest band in the whole of Transylvania; and -they would ask the Keletys over from Hajdu and the Fejérs from Henger, -and perhaps Aunt Charlotte could be persuaded to come and bring Marie. -There was some talk of private theatricals, of tableaux, a tennis -tournament, perhaps a cricket match, English fashion. Peter was so -clever at all that sort of thing! Rosemary was consulted about the -cricket match and the tournament, for these were to be done on English -lines! But the dancing and the acting and the picnics, these were to be -truly and entirely Hungarian--pre-war Hungarian, the gayest, merriest -things darling Rosemary had ever seen. - -How much she had looked forward to Peter's coming, Rosemary did not know -until after she had seen him. What hopes she had built on his mere -presence, on his nearness, she did not own to herself until afterwards. -He had not been in the house many hours before she realised that he had -changed. Not changed for the worse, of course not--but changed. - -He seemed younger, more boyish--more English in many ways. At one time -the Hungarian strain had been very conspicuous in Peter--his tempestuous -love-making, his alternating moods of fatalism and rebellion had always -reminded Rosemary of those barbaric chieftains--his forebears about whom -she loved to read--who had been up and fought the Turks, while the rest -of Europe only trembled at thought of their approach. - -But now Peter was much more like the conventional young English athlete: -not very loquacious, very placid, ashamed of showing emotion or -excitement, standing about for the most part with his hands in his -trousers pockets, contemplating the toes of his boots, and smoking -innumerable cigarettes. He had not seemed like this at first. He arrived -in the late afternoon, and Rosemary was downstairs in the paved -courtyard when the carriage drove in through the gates, with its four -spanking greys, shining with lather, for the day had been very hot and -the roads were dusty. Peter was on the box, having dislodged the -coachman, who sat beside him, the groom being relegated to the cushioned -seat of the victoria. - -There was such a halloing and a shouting, everyone screaming a welcome, -grooms rushing to hold the horses, the greys pawing and champing and -snorting, that Rosemary hardly saw Peter when he threw the reins to the -coachman, jumped down from the box, and was lost in a forest of -welcoming arms that hid him completely from view. - -It was only after dinner, when the whole company went out into the -garden to get a breath of air, that Rosemary found herself for a few -moments alone with him. It had been desperately hot indoors, and the -noise of all these dear people all talking and laughing at the same time -had been overpowering. Fortunately everyone thought it would be lovely -in the garden, and still laughing and chattering they trooped out like a -covey of chickens let out of a coop. Rosemary had wandered on ahead of -the others, and presently she turned down the path that ran along the -perennial border, now a riot of colour and a tangle of late lilies, -crimson pentstemons and evening primroses. - -Rosemary did not hear Peter coming. No one ever dressed for dinner at -Kis-Imre, and Peter had his tennis shoes on, and the rubber soles made -not the slightest sound upon the smooth, gravel path. She had stopped to -look at a clump of tiger lilies, when suddenly a wonderful sense of -well-being seemed to descend upon her soul. It was as if she had stepped -out of a boat that had been tossed about on a stormy sea, and had all of -a sudden set her foot upon firm ground. The first words he said were so -like the foolish, lighthearted Peter she knew. - -"You wonderful pixie!" he said, "I can't believe that it is really you!" - -She did not immediately turn to look at him, but went on studying the -markings on the lilies; then she said, as indifferently as she could: - -"Why didn't you let me know sooner, Peter, that you were coming to -Transylvania? In fact," she went on coolly, "you never did let me know -at all. I first heard through--others that you were here." - -"Who told you?" he asked. - -"I think Jasper did first," she replied. "He had heard the news from -General Naniescu." - -Then only did she turn and look at him. She had to look up, because, -though she herself was very tall, one always had to look up at Peter, -who was a young giant. At this moment she certainly did not think that -he was changed. He looked just the same, with his very boyish face and -laughing grey eyes, and his fair hair that so often looked as if it had -been Marcel-waved. He was looking down at her when she turned to him, -and suddenly he said: - -"You don't look happy, Rosemary!" - -Of course she laughed and told him not to make silly remarks. How could -she help being happy here with these dear, kind people? Never, never in -all her life had she met with such kindness and hospitality. Peter -shrugged his shoulders. He thrust his hands in the pockets of his -flannel trousers, and looked down at the toes of his shoes. - -"Very well," he said lightly, "if you won't tell me, you won't. And -that's that. But let me tell you this: though I dare say I am a bit of a -fool, I am not quite such an ass as not to see the difference in you. -You've got thinner. When I first arrived and shook hands with you, your -hand felt hot, and your eyes----" - -He broke off abruptly, and then said with sudden irrelevance: "Where's -Jasper?" - -"Gone to----," she began, and suddenly came to a halt. When she promised -Jasper not to breathe a word of Philip's and Anna's affairs to Peter, -she had not realised how difficult this would be. Would she be breaking -her promise if she now told Peter that Jasper was in Bucharest? Peter -would want to know why Jasper had gone to Bucharest. He would ask -questions, more questions which Rosemary's promise bound her not to -answer. - -"He has been called away on business," she said curtly. - -Her hesitation had only lasted a second or two; she hoped that Peter had -not noticed it. Anyway, when he asked: "To Budapest?" she replied, -without hesitation this time: "Yes, to Budapest." And she added quite -gaily: "He'll be back at the end of the week. You can't think, Peter, -how I miss him when he is away! Perhaps that is why I am looking thin, -and why my hands are hot." - -"Perhaps," Peter assented laconically. - -Then somehow the conversation flagged, and all the happy feeling that -Rosemary had experienced when Peter first stood near her slipped away -from her. She suddenly felt cold, although the evening was so hot that a -little while ago she had scarcely been able to breathe. At some little -distance behind her Philip's voice sounded cheerful and homely, and -Maurus Imrey's throaty laugh, and Elza's happy little giggle rang -through the sweet-scented evening air. Poor Rosemary shivered. - -"Shall we walk on," she asked, "or wait for the others?" - -"Let's walk on," Peter replied; then added in a clumsy, boyish fashion: -"Rather!" - -They walked on side by side. Rosemary, at a loss what to say next, had -thrown out an inquiry about the cricket match. This set Peter talking. -All at once he threw off his abrupt, constrained air, and prattled away -nineteen to the dozen. The cricket match was going to be a huge success. -Didn't Rosemary think it was a grand idea? Talk about the League of -Nations, or whatever the thing was called! In Peter's opinion, there was -nothing like a jolly good cricket or football match to bring people -together. Make them understand one another, was Peter's motto. Of -course, all these dagoes over here had got to learn to be proper sports. -No sulking if they got beaten. Peter would see to that. Anyhow, the old -General What's-his-name had been a brick. He had helped Peter no end to -get the Roumanian team together, and had given them all free passes to -Hódmezö where the match would take place. Hódmezö was in Hungary, -and old What's-his-name--meaning Naniescu--said he would rather the -Roumanian team went to Hungary than that the Hungarian team came over -here. Well, Peter didn't mind which. It was going to be a topping -affair. He was going to captain the Roumanian team, and Payson was -captaining the Hungarians. Did Rosemary know Payson? Jolly chap with a -ripping wife--done splendid work in the Air Force during the war. He had -something to do with the Military Commission on disarmaments. He was at -Budapest now, and Jasper would probably see him while he was there. -Payson was coming over to Hódmezö by aeroplane. Wouldn't that create a -sensation? There was a splendid landing ground quite close to Hódmezö -fortunately. Payson's wife was coming with him. She was so keen on -flying. Ripping couple, they were! Didn't Rosemary think so? Oh! and -Peter had had telegrams of good wishes from no end of people, and a -jolly letter from dear old Plum Warner. Did Rosemary know Plum Warner? -There was a cricketer if you like! No one like him, in Peter's opinion. -The science of the man! Well, the dagoes should learn that cricket is -the finest game in the world! Didn't Rosemary agree with him? - -Rosemary gave monosyllabic replies whenever Peter gave her the chance of -putting in a word. She could not help smiling at his enthusiasm, of -course. It was so young, so English, so thoroughly, thoroughly fine! But -somehow she could not recapture that lovely feeling of security, that -sheer joy in having Peter near her, and she kept asking herself whether -it was really Peter who had changed--who had become younger, or she who -had grown old. In this youthful athlete with his self-assurance and his -slang, she vainly sought the wayward, sometimes moody, always -captivating Peter, whose tempestuous love-making had once swept her off -her feet. - -At one moment she tried to lead the conversation into a more serious -channel: "How do you think Anna is looking?" she asked abruptly. - -"A bit peaky," Peter replied lightly, "poor little mole! When you go -back to England," he went on more gravely, "you ought to take her with -you. It would do her all the good in the world. Take her out of herself, -I mean." - -"She wouldn't come," Rosemary replied earnestly. - -"Don't you think so?" - -"Why, Peter," she retorted, feeling exasperated with him for this air of -indifference even where Anna was concerned, "you know Anna would not -come. For one thing," Rosemary added impulsively, "I don't suppose she -would be allowed to." - -"You mean her mother wouldn't let her?" - -"No," she replied laconically. "I didn't mean that." - -"Well, then?" he retorted. Then, as Rosemary, shocked, angry, remained -silent, holding her lips tightly pressed together, almost as if she were -afraid that words would slip out against her will, Peter shrugged his -broad shoulders and rejoined flippantly: - -"Oh, I suppose you mean old What's-his-name--Naniescu--and all that -rubbish. I don't think he would worry much. He has been a brick, letting -Anna and Philip out like that. I expect he would just as soon see them -both out of the country as not. Jolly good thing it would be for both of -them! They would learn some sense, the monkeys!" - -He paused and looked round at Rosemary. Then, as she seemed to persist -in her silence, he insisted: - -"Don't you agree with me?" - -"Perhaps," she replied, with a weary sigh. - -"Anyway, you'll think it over, won't you?" Peter went on. "I am sure you -could fix it up with old Naniescu. He admires you tremendously, you -know." - -It was all wrong, all wrong. Peter used to be so fond of little Anna. -"Give her a kiss for me," were almost the last words he had spoken to -Rosemary on the day of her wedding. His own affairs evidently pushed -every other consideration into the remotest corner of his brain; and -cricket matches were apparently of more importance than the danger which -threatened Anna and Philip. Nor had Rosemary any longer the desire to -break her promise to Jasper. She no longer wished to speak to Peter -about Anna and Philip, or about the horrible alternative which Naniescu -had put before her. Peter--this Peter--would not understand. Jasper had -not understood either--but he had misunderstood in a different way. -Rosemary realized how right he had been to extract that promise from -her. Was not Jasper always right? And was it intuition that had prompted -him, after all, rather than an attack of jealousy of which Rosemary, in -her heart, had been so ready to accuse him? - -Suddenly she felt a longing to get away from Peter, from this Peter whom -she neither knew nor trusted. "I'll go in now, I think," she said -abruptly; "the dew is rising, and my shoes are very thin." - -And she started to walk more quickly. Slowly the shades of evening had -been drawing in. Rosemary had not noticed before how dark it was -getting. The line of shrubbery behind the perennial border was like a -solid wall; and on the other side of the path the stretch of lawn, with -its great clumps of pampas grass and specimen trees, became merged in -the gathering shadows. Beyond the lawn glimmered the lights of the -château, and the veranda in front of the drawing-room was like a great -patch of golden light, broken by the long, straight lines of its -supporting columns. There was no moon, only an infinity of stars; and in -the flower border the riot of colour had faded into the gloom, leaving -just the white flowers--the nicotiana, the Madonna lilies, a few -violas--to break the even mantle spread by the night. - -From the direction of the château there came a loud call of "Halloo!" -to which Peter gave a lusty response. A voice shouted: "We are going -in!" - -"Right-o!" Peter responded. "We'll come too!" - -Then suddenly he gave a bound, and in an instant had leaped the border -and disappeared in the shrubbery beyond. Rosemary, taken completely by -surprise, had come to a halt. From the shrubbery there came a loud cry -of terror, then a swear-word from Peter, and finally a string of -ejaculations, all in Hungarian, and of distressful appeals for mercy in -the name of all the saints in the calendar. The next moment Peter's -white flannels glimmered through the foliage, and a second or two later -he reappeared lower down, coming up the path and half dragging, half -pushing in front of him a huddled-up mass, scantily clothed in ragged -shirt and trousers, and crowned with a broad-brimmed hat, from beneath -which came a succession of dismal howls. - -"What is it?" Rosemary cried. - -"That's what I want to know," was Peter's reply. "I caught sight of this -blighter sneaking in the shrubbery, and got him by the ear, which he -does not seem to like, eh, my friend?" - -He gave the ear which he held between his fingers another tweak, and in -response drew a howl from his victim, fit to wake the seven sleepers. - -"Mercy, gracious lord! Mercy on a poor man! I was not doing anything -wrong; I swear by holy Joseph I was not doing anything wrong!" - -The creature, whoever he was, succeeded in wriggling himself free of -Peter's unpleasant hold. At once he turned to flee, but Peter caught him -by the shoulder, and proceeded this time to administer something more -severe in the way of punishment. - -"Leave the man alone, Peter," Rosemary cried indignantly. "You have no -right to ill-use him like that!" - -"Oh, haven't I? We'll soon see about that!" Peter retorted roughly. "Now -then, my friend," he went on, speaking in Hungarian to the bundle of -rags that had collapsed at his feet, "listen to me. You have tasted the -weight of my boot on your spine, so you know pretty well what you can -expect if you don't tell me at once what you are doing at this hour of -the night in the gracious Count's garden?" - -The man, however, seemed unable to speak for the moment; loud hiccoughs -shook his tall, spare frame. He held his two hands against the base of -his spine, and with knees bent he executed a series of desperate -contortions in a vain attempt to get his right shoulder out of Peter's -grip. - -"Peter," Rosemary cried again, "let the poor wretch go. You must! Or I -shall hate you." - -But Peter only retorted harshly: "If you weren't here, Rosemary, I'd -thrash the vermin to within an inch of his life. Now then," he -commanded, "stop that howling. What were you doing in that shrubbery?" - -"I only wanted to speak with the gracious Countess," the man contrived -to murmur at last, through the hiccoughs that still seemed to choke the -words in his throat. "I have a message for her!" - -"That's why I caught you with this in your belt, eh?" Peter queried -sternly, and drew something out of his pocket, which Rosemary could not -see; he showed it to the man, who promptly made a fresh appeal to the -saints. - -"The roads are not safe for poor gipsies, gracious lord. And I had the -message----" - -"Who gave you a message for the gracious Countess?" Rosemary asked him -gently. - -"I--I don't know, gracious lady. A fine gentleman on a horse called to -me when I was gathering wood over by the forest of Normafa. He gave me -a letter. Take it, he said, to the gracious Countess over at Kis-Imre, -but do not give it into any hands but hers, and only give it to her when -she is alone." - -"Where is the letter?" - -"It is here, gracious lady," the man replied, and fumbling with the belt -that held his ragged trousers round his waist, he drew from underneath -it a soiled and crumpled rag that effectively looked like a letter in a -sealed envelope. Peter would have snatched it out of his hand, but -Rosemary interposed. - -"Peter," she said gravely, and stretched a protecting arm over the -gipsy's hand, "the man was told not to give it in any hand but Elza's!" - -"The man is a liar," Peter riposted harshly. - -Just then Philip's voice reached them from across the lawn. - -"What are you two doing over there?" - -"Philip, is your mother with you?" Rosemary shouted in response. - -"Yes! We are just going in." - -"Ask her to wait a moment then." - -"What has happened?" Elza called. - -"Nothing, darling," Rosemary replied. "Send the others in and wait for -me, will you?" Then she turned to the gipsy, and said kindly: "Walk -beside me, and don't try to run away; the gracious lord will not hurt -you if you walk quietly beside me." - -And so the three of them walked across the lawn toward the château, -Rosemary in front, and beside her the gipsy, whose long thin hands -almost swept the grass as he walked with bent knees and arched back, -throwing from time to time anxious glances behind him. But Peter was -lagging behind. - -When they were dose to the château, they saw Elza coming down the -veranda steps. Rosemary ordered the gipsy to wait, and ran to meet Elza; -in a few words she told her what had occurred. Elza then came across the -gravel path, and said to the gipsy: "I am the Countess Imrey. You may -give me the letter!" - -The man's back became more curved than ever; he nearly touched the -ground with his forehead. In the darkness Rosemary seemed to sect his -long, thin body, curling itself up almost into a ball. - -"I was told," he murmured meekly, "to give the letter in the hands of -the gracious Countess only when she was alone." - -Instinctively Rosemary turned to look for Peter. To her surprise she saw -him just above her, going up the veranda steps. He had his hands in the -pockets of his trousers, and he was whistling a tune. - -The gipsy whom he had so maltreated a little while ago no longer seemed -to interest him. Rosemary called to him rather impatiently: - -"Peter!" - -He paused and looked down at her. "Hallo!" he said coolly. - -"Do you think it is all right for Elza to talk with this man alone?" - -Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" he said, with a laugh. - -Then he called out to Elza: - -"I say, Aunt Elza, if the wretch should try to kiss you, sing out, won't -you?" - -Elza laughed good-humouredly. - -"Of course I am not afraid," she said. "And I do want to know about this -mysterious letter." - -Rosemary would have liked to argue the point. She could not understand -how it was that Peter took the matter so lightly all of a sudden. -However, as Elza was playfully pushing her out of the way, whilst Peter -calmly continued to stroll up the stairs, she only said with a final -note of earnestness: "I shall be quite close, Elza. You have only to -call, you know." - -"I know, I know," Elza rejoined, still laughing. "You don't suppose that -I am frightened of a gipsy, do you?" - -She waited a moment or two until Rosemary was out of sight, then she -turned back to the man, and said: - -"I am alone now. You may give me the letter." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - - -Rosemary went slowly up the veranda steps. She did not feel that it -would be loyal to pry into Elza's secrets, but at the same time she -wanted to remain well within call. From where she was she could see -Peter's broad shoulders blocking the French window which gave on the -drawing-room. From somewhere in the house, both above and below stairs, -came the sound of laughter and song. - -A moment or two later she heard Elza's footsteps behind her on the -gravel walk, and presently Elza was there, going up the veranda steps -beside Rosemary. She did not say a word, and Rosemary asked no -questions. She could see that Elza was preoccupied. She also noticed -that the letter--or whatever it was--was not in Elza's hands. - -Peter stood aside to allow the two ladies to step into the drawing-room. -He asked no questions either, and Elza did not volunteer any -information. It seemed as if the incident of the mysterious gipsy had -never been. Later on Peter sat down at the piano and played a -_csàrdàs_, for Philip and Anna to dance. They were beautiful dancers, -both of them, and it was a pleasure to watch them swaying and bending to -the syncopated cadences of the beautiful Hungarian music. Peter, too, -had evidently that music in the blood. Rosemary had no idea he could -play it so well. He seemed just as excited as the dancers, and -accelerated the movement of the _csàrdàs_ until little Anna called for -mercy, and even Philip seemed ready to give in. For the time being -Rosemary forgot her troubles in the joy of seeing those two enjoying -themselves, and the delight of listening to Peter. What a pity, she -thought, as she had often done, that he should waste all the poetry, the -talent that was in him, and only devote his mind to cricket. She drew -close up to the piano, to watch his slender fingers flying over the -keys, and as she did so, her glance at one moment wandered to the small -what-not in the corner by the piano. There, in the midst of a -miscellaneous collection of cigarette boxes, ash-trays, match-boxes, lay -a small automatic. - -Peter caught her eye, which at the moment expressed a mute inquiry. He -shrugged his shoulders and smiled. He had a cigarette in a long holder -in the corner of his mouth, but he contrived to murmur: - -"Yes, the blighter; wasn't I right to thrash him?" - -Rosemary looked across at Elza. She sat quite placidly, as she always -did, close to her husband's chair, watching her Philip--her soul in her -eyes. She was smiling, and now and then she turned to say a word or two -to Maurus; but to Rosemary she still looked preoccupied, and once she -caught Elza's large kind eyes fixed upon her with a curious, -scrutinising gaze. - -An hour later when Rosemary was in her room and beginning to undress, -there was a knock at her door, and Elza came in, with that kindly smile -of hers still on her face, but with a troubled look in her eyes. - -"May I come in for a moment, darling?" she asked. - -Rosemary made her comfortable on the sofa, and sat down beside her. Elza -took hold of both her hands and fondled them, stroking them up and down, -and she began talking about Philip and Anna, and the dancing and the -plans for future parties, and picnics and so on. Rosemary let her -prattle on; it was her turn to scrutinise Elza's face closely. That -something was troubling this dear, kind creature was obvious. She was, -as it were, gathering her moral forces before she broached something -unpleasant that she had come to say. It was no use brusquing the matter, -and Rosemary entered into Elza's plans, discussed the coming -dinner-parties, the proposed lists of guests, talked about Anna's -future, and made some remarks about Peter. - -This brought the main subject on the tapis. - -"Where did you and Peter first see that gipsy?" Elza asked presently. - -"He was hiding in the shrubbery," Rosemary replied, "behind the flower -border. I didn't see him. Peter saw him and pounced upon him, and -dragged him out on to the path." - -"Funny he did not just go to the service door and ask for me, wasn't -it?" - -"That's what Peter thought. I am afraid he treated the poor wretch -rather roughly." - -"I am sorry he did that," Elza mused, and thoughtfully stroked -Rosemary's slender fingers between her own. "The man really had a -message for me." - -"I know," Rosemary rejoined; "a letter." - -"No, it wasn't a letter," Elza said, and looked Rosemary now straight -between the eyes. "You know these gipsies are queer people. They have -curious gifts of divination and prophecy. This man----" - -She seemed to hesitate, her glance wavered, and once more she started -mechanically stroking Rosemary's hands. - -"But the man had a letter for you, Elza dear," Rosemary insisted. "I saw -it in his hand." - -"Oh, that was only a blind; and so was his story about the gentleman on -a horse. He told me that he had come all the way from Ujlak to speak -with me. Ujlak is where I was born, and my dear brother and Peter's -mother. My sister-in-law lives there still. Anna was born there, and -little Marie. It was my father's home and my grandfather's before him, -and our ancestors' for many generations. Well, this gipsy came from -there." - -"In order to speak with you?" - -"So he said." - -"Well, and what did he have to tell you?" Rosemary asked. - -"That he had had a vision. My father had appeared before him in a dream, -and told him that he must start at once and seek me. He was to tell me -that he whom I love best in all the world is in immediate danger of -death." - -Rosemary never moved; she was looking straight at Elza. Only when Elza -paused, seeming to wait for some word from her, Rosemary said: - -"That--wretched creature told you that?" - -Elza nodded. She went on simply: - -"I see by your face, dear, that he told the truth, not only in that, but -in what he said to follow." - -"What was that?" - -"He said that the stranger now within our gates knows of this danger, -and would confirm what he said. Well, my darling, I only need look at -your sweet face to see that miserable wretch spoke the truth. He -was inspired by a dream to come and speak with me. But I would not -question him further. Those gipsies often lie, and they will tell you -any tale in order to get a few coppers. But I saw your look when I told -you what he said, and it is from you that I want the truth. What is the -danger that threatens Philip?" - -"Elza, darling----" Rosemary murmured. - -"I am his mother, you know," Elza interposed, with her gentle, quiet -smile. "I must know. He is all the world to me. And as soon as you knew -that something threatened him, you should have told me, my darling." - -Then, as Rosemary was still fighting with herself, alternately praying -to God for guidance, and striving to swallow the tears that were choking -her, Elza went on quite quietly: - -"It is difficult for you, of course," she said, and patted Rosemary's -cheek like an indulgent mother, "but it would have been better to tell -me at first. I have had a very, very happy week since the children came -home, but looking back on it now, I don't think that I was ever quite -free from a vague sort of doubt. I was always a little uneasy, and -whenever Philip kissed me, I could not help crying." - -Elza had spoken in a curious, dreamy manner, her round blue eyes fixed -somewhere on vacant space. But now she seemed to pull herself together, -she looked once more at Rosemary, gave her an encouraging smile, and -said in a perfectly quiet, matter-of-fact tone: - -"Well, now tell me all about it. Philip's release and Anna's is only a -temporary one. Is that it?" - -Rosemary nodded. She could not trust herself to speak. Elza gave a -little gasp, but her voice was still quite steady as she went on -questioning Rosemary: - -"What is the charge against them?" - -"Philip wrote certain newspaper articles," Rosemary replied, and her -voice sounded mechanical, like that of an automaton, "which have -appeared in the English and American press. Anna used to send those -through in the parcels she packed up in Balog's shop." - -"I knew about those articles," Elza rejoined simply. "Everybody in -Transylvania knew about them, but I did not guess that Philip had -anything to do with them, or Anna. Then," she went on with a little -catch in her throat, "it means a charge of treason against the State?" - -"Yes!" - -"Military tribunal?" - -"Yes." - -"And--if they are found guilty--a--sentence--of death?" - -"No! No! No!" And Rosemary was on her knees with her arms round Elza's -shoulders, her tear-stained face turned up to her, protesting -vigorously, strenuously, that which she knew was false. But Elza's big, -round eyes were tearless; she looked a little wildly perhaps, but quite -kindly into the beautiful face that expressed such a world of love and -sympathy. Then, gently but firmly, she disengaged herself from -Rosemary's arms. - -"Well now, my dear," she asked, very quietly, "all this being so, why -did Naniescu let those children come home at all? Why should he postpone -their trial, their--their punishment?" - -Rosemary's head fell upon her breast. - -"I don't know," she murmured. - -But Elza put her podgy finger under Rosemary's chin, and forced her to -look up. - -"Don't lie to me, darling," she pleaded softly, "tell me the truth." - -"I have told you the truth, Elza," Rosemary protested through her tears. - -"Then I must believe you, if you say so. And yet it is all very -mysterious. Why should Naniescu wait? Why should he play with those poor -children, like a cat does with a mouse? You know, Rosemary darling, what -the gipsy said in the end?" - -Rosemary shook her head. - -"He said that the stranger within the gates had the power to save my son -from death. Have you that power, Rosemary?" - -"No! No!" Rosemary protested wildly. "If it were in my power, don't you -think that I would do anything in the world to save Philip and Anna?" - -Elza nodded. - -"Yes, dear," she said gently. "Of course I do think it; but when the -gipsy said that, I could not help feeling hopeful, for he was right in -everything else he said----" - -Then suddenly she took Rosemary's face between her two hands, and she -gazed into her eyes with a look of almost fierce intensity in her own, -as if she would wrest a secret from the depths of the younger woman's -soul. - -"Swear to me, Rosemary," she said, and her gentle voice sounded raucous -and harsh, "swear to me that there is nothing in the world that you can -do to save Philip!" - -And Rosemary, returning her gaze, replied steadily: - -"I swear to you that it is not in my power to save Philip and Anna. If -it were, I would do it." - -Even then Elza did not cry. She just sat there quite, quite still, her -big, round eyes quite dry, her mouth without a quiver, but sitting there -so still, so still, with her beautiful golden hair all round her face, -the soft streaks of grey all about her temples, her fine features rigid, -her podgy white hands resting on her knees; she looked such a tragic -figure of despair that Rosemary could hardly suppress the cry of anguish -that rose insistently to her throat. - -"And so we can do nothing," Elza said, with a note of quiet finality in -her voice. - -"Don't say that, dear," Rosemary protested. "Jasper, as a matter of -fact, has gone to Bucharest to try and see the King personally. The -Roumanian Government owes some gratitude to my husband, as you know. I -am quite sure that he will bring strong pressure to bear upon the -authorities, and get a full pardon for Philip and Anna on the score of -their youth." - -But Elza slowly shook her head. - -"You don't believe yourself, darling," she said, "in what you say. The -children have committed the unpardonable crime of being born Hungarians, -and of resenting foreign tyranny in their native land. The King himself -would be kind, I am sure, but Bucharest is a long way off, and the -bureaucrats over here do not know the meaning of the word 'mercy.'" - -"But we know the meaning of the word 'hope,' Elza dear," Rosemary said -steadily, and struggled to her feet. "We are not going to give up hope. -You talk about your gipsies having the gift of prophecy. Well, it is my -turn to prophesy now. Philip and Anna are in God's hands, and you and I -are going to pray so hard and so ceaselessly that God will help us, I am -sure. I know," she added firmly. - -Elza gave a short, quick sigh. - -"Ah, yes," she said, "you are lucky, you English! Your religion means a -great deal to you. But we, over here, are so different. We go to convent -schools when we are too young to understand. Then we are all fire and -enthusiasm, but we do not understand. After that we marry and live in -those remote villages where the poor curé is only an illiterate peasant -with whom we have nothing in common, whose habits are often such that we -could not possibly make our confession to him. And so we soon forget -what we learned in our childhood, and we come to trusting in ourselves -rather than in God." - -She rose and, with the same motherly gentleness which she always showed -to Rosemary, she folded the girl in her loving arms. - -"Good night, my dear," she said placidly. "I ought not to have kept you -up so late. Good night, dear. Pray to your God for us all. The God of -the English is more merciful, I think, than ours." - -"Elza," Rosemary insisted, "promise me that you will not give up hope. -Jasper comes back to-morrow. He may bring the best of news. Promise me -that in any case you will not give up hope." - -The ghost of a smile appeared on Elza's face. - -"I will promise," she said, "not altogether to give up faith." - -Rosemary kissed her tenderly. After that she escorted her as far as her -room, and at the door she kissed her once more, and then she said, with -solemn earnestness: - -"Elza darling, will you believe me if I say that if I could give my life -for those two children I would do it? If it were in my power to save -them, I would. But it is not in my power to save them, to do anything, -but to leave them in God's hands." - -Elza returned her kiss with gentleness and affection. - -"Dear, kind Rosemary," she murmured; "go to bed, dear, you must be so -tired." - -Then she quietly slipped into her room and closed the door. And Rosemary -was left to face the night alone. - - - - -CHAPTER XIX - - -What puzzled Rosemary was the gipsy. What was the mystery of that -vagabond found lurking in the park at nightfall with a revolver in his -belt? What connexion had he with the eyes that had watched Rosemary the -night that she was talking with little Anna? And how had he come in -possession of the inner history of Philip's and Anna's temporary -release? - -There was a mystery here. Somewhere. A disquieting, a terrifying -mystery, not altogether to be accounted for by the spy system or other -secret organization of the Roumanian Government. - -All night Rosemary struggled with the puzzle. All night she wrestled -with herself for the right to break her promise to Jasper and to lay all -the facts of the case before Peter. She wanted to do this before -Jasper's return, and, anyway, he must release her--he must--from that -promise which placed her in a false and disloyal position towards Peter. -When Rosemary fell asleep the dawn was breaking, and she had almost made -up her mind to tell Peter everything. - -But the next morning when she went downstairs she found the whole house -in a turmoil. Servants rushing to and fro, Elza in close conversation -with the chef, Maurus shouting contradictory orders across the galleried -hall. Peter was in the drawing-room playing a jazz tune this time, and -Philip and Anna were fox-trotting, infusing even in this ugly so-called -dance some of their own native grace. - -As soon as Rosemary appeared she was greeted with regular war-whoops of -delight. In a moment she was drawn into the whirlpool of excitement. -Philip and Anna dragged her to the sofa, and they and Maurus and Elza -all talked to her at once, while Peter, with the inevitable cigarette in -the corner of his mouth, continued to pound away at the jazz tune. - -From the deafening hubbub of conversation Rosemary gathered, in the -first instance, that the gipsy band from Bonczhida were coming over the -next day, and the gipsies of Bonczhida were the finest in Transylvania. -Then that the Keletys were driving over from Hajdu, and the Fejérs from -Henger; that perhaps Aunt Charlotte would come too and bring Marie; that -the Keletys were bringing the Poltys, and the Fejérs having the Kékesy -boys staying with them would of course bring them along. They reckoned -that there would be ten or a dozen couples to dance, and with the mammas -and papas they would be thirty to supper. They expected most of the -guests to arrive in time for luncheon, and in the afternoon they could -have some tennis; then in the evening they would have a ball to which -the officers from the garrison at Cluj had already been invited, and -they had accepted by telephone. Among them were those who were going to -play cricket with the Hungarians at Hódmezö under Peter's direction. - -At this marvellous statement Peter came to a pause in the music with a -crashing chord, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and throwing up his -hands, exclaimed: - -"Going to play cricket with the Hungarians under Peter's direction! Oh, -blessed people! Ye ghosts of Fitzgerald, Pycroft, and of Lillywhite, do -ye hear them and writhe up there in Heaven?" - -Then he struck up the "March of the Men of Harlech." - -"If anyone says anything more about cricket," he said solemnly, "I shall -force them to play with warped bats and golf-balls on a ploughed field." - -Not a trace of anxiety or even preoccupation on any of those dear, -beaming faces. Elza was as excited as any of them, worried to death -because the carp they had got out of the lake for this evening's supper -were not really fat. - -"They're no bigger than a good-sized goldfish," she said to Rosemary -with a note of real tragedy in her voice, and her blue eyes at once -looked anxious and troubled, as if the matter of the carp was the only -thing that could worry her. - -Rosemary made a great effort not to be a wet blanket in the midst of all -this gaiety. In this she succeeded admirably. All she had to do was to -smile and to nod her head, and now and then to cry out, "How splendid!" -The others did all the talking, and when conversation subsided for a -moment Peter came down with a fresh, crashing jazz tune. - -Rosemary would have thought the whole scene a phantasmagoria--illusive -images that would presently be dispelled--only that she had known these -people ever since she was a child. She had studied their curious -psychology, half barbaric, with all the primitive disregard of danger -and the passion for pleasure, even at the point of death. She gave -ungrudging admiration to Elza--Elza who had sat in her room last night, -rigid, dry-eyed, a living statue of despair. What went on behind that -smooth, white brow of hers? What projects? What hopes? And little Anna? -Anna knew. Anna guessed. She had spoken of her fears to Rosemary. Spoken -of eyes that watched her, of eyes that were willing her to do something -foolish that would compromise her irretrievably this time. Elza and -Anna! What an example of self-possession, of self-control! Rosemary was -almost ready to persuade herself that something had happened to reassure -them both--that, in fact, they knew the danger to be past. - -Only that Elza avoided her glance, and that the dear soul, usually so -placid, so stable, was just a thought more restless than usual, and her -gentle voice would from time to time become shrill. - -At last, genuinely tired and bewildered by so much noise, Rosemary -jumped up and, laughing, declared that she must escape out of the -bear-garden for a moment and get a breath of fresh air in the park. In -order to reach the glass door that gave on the veranda, Rosemary had to -go past the piano. Quite close. Peter looked up when she was near him, -and she said to him as she went past: "They are very gay, aren't they?" - -"Elza has a perfectly mad plan in her head," Peter replied, and struck a -few loud chords so that no one save Rosemary should hear what he said. -"For God's sake, if you have any influence over her, get her to give it -up." - -Then he shouted merrily: "I've had enough of those horrible American -tunes. Who wants a _csàrdàs?_" - -But he did not play a _csàrdàs_ a moment or two his fingers wandered -aimlessly over the keys, whilst his eyes followed Rosemary as she -stepped through the glass door on to the sun-bathed veranda. And as -Rosemary felt the sun, the clear, luscious air, the scent of flowers and -of distant pines, envelop her as in a warm mantle, there came wafted to -her ears the soft strains of that exquisite Hungarian love-song: "There -is but one beautiful girl in all the world." The piano now seemed to -sing under Peter's delicate touch, and Rosemary paused and stood quite, -quite still, letting the music sink into her, yielding to its voluptuous -cadence, and allowing her thoughts, her desires, her longings, to soar -upwards to that infinity to which music alone can convey the soul on its -magic wings. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - - -Rosemary had wandered beyond the confines of the park, and roamed about -in the woods, having lost all sense of time. When presently she came -back to the reality of things she looked at her watch and saw that it -was close on twelve o'clock. Luncheon at the château was at half-past. -It meant stepping out briskly so as to be in time. - -As soon as she reached the flower-garden, it struck her as strange that -the château suddenly appeared to be so quiet. No sound reached her as -she came near to the veranda steps, either of shrill, excited voices, or -of laughter or song. - -She found the family assembled on the veranda--Maurus, Elza, Philip and -Anna. Only Peter was not there. A first glance at them all revealed to -Rosemary what had occurred. Elza had told them what the gipsy had said. -Maurus sat in his chair like a man in a trance, his dark face flushed, -his hair towzeled, his large, dark eyes staring out before him, with a -look in them that was not entirely sane. - -Philip, on the other hand, was pacing up and down the veranda floor, -whilst Anna stood quite still, leaning against a column, looking for all -the world like a little martyr tied to the stake, her small, thin hands -clasped together, a faint flush on her cheeks. These two children looked -excited rather than horror-filled. Anna's face suggested that of an -idealist--not altogether resigned, but nevertheless eager to suffer for -the cause. But Philip looked like a lighter, seeking for a chance to hit -back, a combatant not yet brought to his knees. - -Elza's round, blue eyes just wandered from one to the other of these -faces all dear to her. - -They were dry eyes, anxious eyes, but there was nothing in them to-day -of that tragic despair which had been so heart-breaking to behold the -evening before. - -Rosemary's first thought had been: "They know. Elza has told them!" The -second was: "Elza has a plan. Peter said it was a mad one. A plan for -Philip and Anna's escape." She wondered if they would tell her. - -"I hope I am not late for lunch," she said, rather breathlessly, as she -had been walking very fast. Then she added casually: "Where is Peter?" - -"He is busy packing," Elza replied. - -"Packing?" Rosemary exclaimed, puzzled. "He is not going away--already?" - -"Yes," Elza said, "to-night." - -"But he did not say anything yesterday," Rosemary insisted, "about going -away again so soon. Or even this morning." - -"I don't think he knew yesterday," Elza rejoined. "It seems he had a -telephone message half an hour ago. He says he must go." - -Anna now appeared to wake out of her trance. Rosemary was standing close -to her just then; she took Rosemary's hand gently in hers and said: - -"You see, darling, it is like this: one of Peter's cricketers has -telephoned to him to say that they have such a lot of trouble about -their rooms at Hódmezö. Roumanians are not exactly popular in -Hungary," she went on with a wan little smile, "and I suppose that -hotel-keepers don't care to put them up. So Peter has had to promise to -go and put things right for his cricketers." - -"He will come back, of course, after the cricket match," Elza concluded -placidly. "But it is a great nuisance for him, packing and unpacking all -the time." - -Rosemary made no further remark. Everything seemed terribly puzzling. -That Elza had told the children, had told Maurus, all she knew, was -beyond question. That Peter also knew everything, and that he knew and -disapproved of some plan which Elza had made, Rosemary supposed, for the -escape of Philip and Anna was, to her mind, equally certain. But even if -Peter disapproved, how could he go away at this critical time, and leave -Elza to plan and contrive alone, hampered by a half-crazy husband, and -surrounded by spies? However, no one apparently meant to say anything -more just then, and it was quite a relief when the luncheon-bell -sounded, and the little party on the veranda broke up and every one -trooped downstairs for luncheon. - -Peter was already in the dining-room, waiting for the others. Elza in -her kind, gentle way asked him about his packing, and whether she could -help him to get ready. But Peter declared that he wanted nothing, only -the carriage this evening to take him to Cluj. - -He grumbled terribly at having to go away. He hated the idea of missing -the ball and all the friends who were coming; but when Elza or Maurus -tried to persuade him to stay, he was very firm. "I've got to go, Aunt -Elza. You don't know what complications might occur if those Roumanians -got to Hódmezö and were not properly treated. Good God!" he added, -with mock horror, "it might land you all in another war! And all through -my fault!" - -Rosemary had never seen Peter so gay or so conversational. He appeared -entirely unconscious of the undercurrent of tragedy that flowed through -Elza's pathetic attempts at conversation, and Maurus's equally tragic -silences. He talked incessantly, chiefly about the cricket match and -chiefly to Philip, who made desperate efforts to appear interested. -Rosemary did her best, too, but she was anxious and puzzled, and frankly -she did not believe in the story of the telephone message. - -She tried now and then to catch Elza's eye, but in this she never once -succeeded. Elza was avoiding her glance. She meant to say nothing about -her plan--this mad plan of which Peter disapproved so thoroughly that he -preferred to be out of the way. Did these dear, kind people mistrust her -then, because of what the gipsy had said? Or was this reticence merely -the natural outcome of a sense of supreme danger that mistrusted -everything and everybody? - -Rosemary felt the mystery deepening around her. She could not understand -Peter. - -Sometime after luncheon she found Elza and Anna sitting together in the -small brick-built summer-house at the farther end of the lake. Rosemary -had wandered as far as there with a book, anxious as she was to be out -of the way. It was hot, and the air was very still, and the scent of -tuberoses and heliotrope was almost too heady. In the perennial border -a number of humming-bird moths were busy about a bed of sweet sultan; -the soft whirring sound of their wings could be heard quite distinctly -in the extreme stillness of this late summer's afternoon. From time to -time distant sounds of village life came in quick, short waves to -Rosemary's ear, as well as the sharp click of tools wielded by the -gardeners at work somewhere in the park. Close beside the summer-house -one man was busy hand-weeding the path. As Rosemary drew nearer, he -looked up for an instant, and then he shuffled rapidly away. In the -long, stooping figure, the dirty rags and the dark skin, Rosemary -thought that she recognized the gipsy of the previous night. It was just -like Elza, she thought, to give the poor wretch work on the estate. - -When Rosemary saw Elza and Anna sitting together in the summer-house, -her instinct was to pass discreetly on, with just a hasty, cheery word, -but Elza called to her. - -"Come and sit here a minute, Rosemary darling," she said. "Anna and I -want to tell you everything." - -Everything! Rosemary without a word stepped into the little pavilion. -Anna pulled a wicker chair forward between herself and Elza, and -Rosemary sat down, a little anxious, a little fearful, wondering what -these dear, enthusiastic hotheads had devised, and how she herself would -act when she knew. Elza at once took hold of her hand and fondled it. - -"You asked me last night, darling," she began, "not to give up hope, -didn't you?" - -Rosemary nodded acquiescence. - -"And I promised that I would not give up faith," Elza went on quietly. -"Well, I have kept my faith all through last night, which was very -trying. With the dawn, hope came to me, and after that I once more felt -in charity with all the world." - -Rosemary gave Elza's podgy white hand a tender squeeze. "Dear!" she -whispered. - -"We have a plan, darling," Elza said triumphantly. "A splendid plan! -To-morrow night Philip and Anna will be in Hungary, safely out of the -way." - -Rosemary had known all along what was coming. She looked at Anna, who -gave an excited little nod. - -"Tell Rosemary, Aunt Elza," she said. "All from the beginning. There's -no one in the world you can trust as you can Rosemary." - -"Listen then, darling," Elza said, speaking quite quietly at first, then -gradually allowing excitement to get hold of her voice, making it -tremble while she spoke, and husky with eagerness, while her command of -the English tongue became less and less pronounced. - -"It has all been made possible by this cricket business, for which I -thank God and Peter Blakeney. As I told you this morning, Peter's -cricket people are all coming here to-morrow for the ball. They have to -be at Hódmezö the following day for the cricket. So they will bring -their luggage, and make a start from here after the ball--I suppose -about midnight--in three motor-cars which the Governor, General -Naniescu, has himself placed at their disposition. Hódmezö is, as you -know, in Hungary, just the other side of the frontier. It will be about -four or five hours' drive from here, as there is a short cut--quite a -good road--which avoids Cluj. In two of those motor-cars the cricket -people themselves will go; they are mostly young Roumanian officers and -men of the better class. General Naniescu has, of course, given them all -free passes for the occasion. Fortunately he has also given them passes -for four servants to accompany them. These four men will go in the third -motor, and they will also go in the motor all the way to Hódmezö. Now -two of these servants, whom the local commissary of police has himself -chosen and to whom passes have been given, are the two sons of Janos the -miller, who is devoted to us all. His two sons have certainly served in -the Roumanian army because they were obliged, but they have remained -Hungarian at heart, and would do anything for me and for Philip." - -Elza paused. Her eager, round eyes searched Rosemary's face. Rosemary, -of course, had already guessed the rest, her own excitement while she -listened was as tense as Elza's. She gripped the white podgy little hand -of her friend, and looked from her to Anna--a mute question in every -glance. - -"You can guess, of course?" Anna said. - -Rosemary nodded: "I can guess," she said, "but do go on." - -"I sent for János early this morning," Elza went on. "All I had to tell -him was that Philip and Anna were in great danger, and must be got out -of the country at any cost. He understood! We Hungarians in this -occupied territory all understand one another. We understand danger. We -live with danger constantly at our door. And János was so clever, so -helpful. I only had to outline my plan, he thought out all the details. -The mill is about a kilomètre from here, the last house in the village. -As soon as the first two motors have gone with the cricket people and -the Roumanian officers, Philip and Anna will at once run round to the -mill, and János will give them clothes belonging to his sons. The -clothes they will put on. In the meanwhile the third motor-car will have -collected the two other men in the village who are going as servants to -Hódmezö--one is the brother of the Jew over at the inn, and the other -the son of the Roumanian storekeeper. Then it will call at the mill. -János will ask the two men to come in. He and his two sons will give -them some strong spirit to drink. The brother of the Jew and the son of -the storekeeper are both of them great drunkards. When they have become -what you English call I think _blotto_, János will take them back into -the motor. There they will sit, and will probably at once go to sleep. -But Philip and Anna will also get into the motor. They will be dressed -in peasant's clothes, and they will have the free passes which Naniescu -has given to Janos' sons. They will get to Hódmezö about five o'clock -in the morning. And once they are in Hungary they are safe. Rosemary, -darling! they are safe!" - -Rosemary had remained silent. The whole thing certainly at first glance -appeared so easy, so simple that she found herself wondering why she or -Jasper--or Peter--had never thought of such a plan. She also wondered -why Peter should have spoken of it as a mad plan, and begged her if she -had any influence with Elza to dissuade her from it. What had been in -his mind when he said that? Of what was he afraid? Spies, of course. But -spies, like the poor, were always there, and, after all, Philip and Anna -would only be risking what already was forfeit--their lives. - -Rosemary sat there in silence, her fingers closed over Elza's soft, warm -hand. She gazed straight before her, thinking. Thinking; her mind -already following Philip and Anna's flight through this hostile, cruel -country, to the land which would mean freedom and life for them. She saw -them in her mind's eye, like a vision floating before her across the -lake, which in this day-dream had become a wide, dusty road with a -motor-car speeding along toward life and toward freedom. - -It seemed a solution. It must be a solution. Thank God Jasper would be -there to help with counsel and with suggestions. Elza was talking again -now. In her quaint English, which became more and more involved, she -continued to talk of her plan, as a child will talk of some event that -made it happy. She harped on the details, on Janos' devotion, the two -sons who would make their way to the frontier in their father's bullock -cart, and then cross over to Hungary on foot, through the woods and over -a mountain pass where there would be no fear of meeting Roumanian -sentinels. At Hódmezö they would find Peter and the cricket people. -They would get back their passes, and return quite gaily with the -others, having saved the lives of Philip and Anna. Such devotion! Wasn't -it splendid? - -Rosemary only nodded from time to time, and from time to time she -squeezed Elza's hand. It was so hot and so airless here in the little -pavilion with those clusters of climbing heliotrope all over the roof -and half-blocking up the entrance. The bees and humming bird moths were -making such a buzzing and a whirring; it was just like the hum of -motor-car wheels on the dusty road. And through it all came the swishing -sound of a garden broom upon the gravel path, between the summer-house -and the stone coping around the ornamental lake. Rosemary caught herself -watching the broom swinging backwards and forwards across the path, and -across; she saw the two hands--very dark lean hands they were--that -wielded the broom, and finally the gipsy's tall, thin figure bent almost -double to his task. It seemed just right that the man should be there at -this hour, sweeping the path for Elza to walk on presently, for Philip -also and for Anna. It was right because it was the gipsy who had told -Elza what she, Rosemary, had not had the courage to say. There was very -little mystery about the gipsy now; he was just a ragged, dirty -labourer, bending to his task. Did the strange intuition--or was it -divination--that had brought him all the way from his native village to -speak with Elza whisper to him that his warning had already borne fruit, -and that the gracious lady whom he had come to warn had found in faith -and hope the way out of dark destiny? - -"Oh, that's all right, darling! We spoke English all the time!" - -Elza said this with a light laugh. Rosemary woke from her day-dream. She -must have been speaking in her dream--about the gipsy who haunted her -thoughts. - -"Did I say anything?" she asked. - -"Yes, darling," Anna replied, "you have been very silent for the last -minute or two, and then suddenly you said: 'The gipsy, the gipsy,' -twice, like that. It sounded so funny." - -"I thought," Elza put in, "that perhaps you were afraid that dirty -old gipsy had heard what we said. But gipsies in Hungary don't speak -English, you know. For one thing they never go to school." - -Elza appeared quite light-hearted now. - -"I knew," she said, "that you would approve of my plan." - -She said this, but Rosemary herself was quite unconscious that she had -spoken. She had dreamed and dreamed, and seen a motor-car speeding along -the dusty road. But through it all, she had approved, approved of the -plan. It was so feasible, and so simple. She only wondered why Peter -disapproved. - -"What does Peter Blakeney say to all that?" she asked presently. - -"Peter?" Elza asked wide-eyed. - -"Yes. You told him about your plan, didn't you?" - -"No! No!" Elza asserted firmly. "We have told no one but you. Peter is -going away. Why should we tell Peter?" - -"I thought----" Rosemary murmured. - -"It will be time enough to tell him," Anna put in gaily, "when Philip -and I turn up at the hotel at Hódmezö. Won't he be surprised when he -sees us?" - -How strange it all was! Peter knew, since he spoke of a mad plan in -Elza's head, and begged Rosemary to dissuade her from it. Peter knew, -though no one had told him. Another mystery added to all those which had -of late filled Rosemary with such a torturing sense of foreboding. -Another mystery that seemed to surround Peter's changed personality, -that seemed a part of this new personality of his, flippant and -indifferent, so unlike the Peter she had known. - -Now she longed passionately for Jasper--dear, kind Jasper, around whom -there hung no mystery--the strong hand that would guide her through this -maze of intrigue which bewildered as much as it terrified her. -Fortunately her promise to Jasper had been kept. With this new mystery -about Peter that she vaguely dreaded, she would have been racked with -anxiety if she had confided in him. And yet, how disloyal was this -thought, this fear! Fear of Peter! Mistrust of Peter! A very little -while ago she would have staked her soul that Peter was true, loyal, the -soul of honour, an English gentleman, an English sportsman! A Blakeney! -A Scarlet Pimpernel of to-day. What was there in the atmosphere of this -unfortunate country groaning under a foreign, hated yoke to taint his -simple soul with the foul breath of intrigue? - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - - -Walking across the lawn toward the château half an hour later, Rosemary -found herself once more laughing at her own suspicions of Peter. Peter! -Heavens above! what turn were her suspicions taking? - -Did she really believe for one moment that Peter was intriguing with -these crafty Roumanians for the undoing or the persecution of his own -kith and kin? The very thought was preposterous. The suggestion -untenable. Whatever Jasper might think, whatever he might fear, she, -Rosemary, was nothing but a traitor if she allowed herself for one -moment to harbour such thoughts of Peter. - -He was changed, certainly he was changed. But between that and Jasper's -suspicions----! It was Jasper who had first put thoughts into Rosemary's -head by extracting that strange promise from her. Not to talk to Peter. -Not to discuss the situation with Peter. Otherwise she would never for -one moment---- - -Of course, of course, the thought was preposterous. Peter and intrigue! -Peter and crafty Machiavellism! Peter and a double game he was ashamed -to avow! Why, reason should have rejected the first hint of such a -possibility, even if loyalty did not. - -"Hallo, Rosemary!" - -Peter's voice brought Rosemary back to reality. She had wandered up the -veranda steps, hardly conscious of where she was. Thank Heaven, after -her musings she was able to look Peter loyally in the face. He had his -hands buried as usual in the pockets of his trousers, and the inevitable -cigarette between his lips. Rosemary felt hot and tired; the sun had -been baking the lawn while she walked across it, and she had no parasol. -With a contented little sigh she sank into the basket chair that Peter -pulled forward for her. - -"I suppose," he said abruptly, "that they have been telling you about -the nonsense that's going on in their dear, silly heads." - -And with a nod he indicated the summer-house, where, against the -creeper-clad entrance, Elza's white dress gleamed in the sunshine. -Rosemary made no reply. Peter's words had somehow acted like a douche of -cold water upon her sense of rest and well-being. It was true then! He -did know. Though Elza and Anna had told him nothing, he knew. How? -Rosemary would have given worlds for the right to ask him, but suddenly -her promise to Jasper loomed before her with paramount importance, and -put a seal upon her lips. - -"Won't you tell me?" Peter insisted. - -Of course there was a simple explanation for the whole thing. Those dear -people, Elza, Maurus, even Anna, were not models of discretion. Their -voices were loud and penetrating, and, when they were excited about any -project or event, they would discuss it here, there and everywhere at -the top of their voices, and with a total disregard of possible -eavesdroppers. Peter's knowledge of Elza's plans may have come about -quite innocently. Rosemary was quite sure it had come about innocently. -But somehow she longed for that perfect security and trust in Peter -which she used to feel even when he was most capricious and his -love-making most tempestuous. Why hadn't he told Elza that he knew? Why, -instead of discussing the plan over with Elza or one of the others, did -he feign ignorance with them, and suddenly elect to go away on an -obviously futile excuse? - -Oh, how Rosemary hated all this mystery! And how she feared it! And how, -above all, she hated that promise which she had made to Jasper, and -which prevented her at this moment from having a straight talk with -Peter. - -"So you won't tell me?" he reiterated, and his voice sounded curiously -harsh, quite different to his usual very pleasant, musical tones. Peter -had the voice of a musician. It was deep in tone and beautifully -modulated. Peter's voice had been one of the things about him that had -captivated Rosemary's fancy in the past. Now, he spoke through his -teeth, with that hateful cigarette in the long holder held between the -comers of his lips. Rosemary tried to be flippant. - -"Dear me!" she exclaimed, with a little broken laugh, "are you trying to -play the _rôle_ of the heavy father, Peter, or of the silent strong -man? And now you are frowning just like the hero in one of Ethel M. -Dell's books. When are you going to seize me by the wrist and whack me -with a slipper?" - -It was very easy to make Peter laugh. He was laughing now, and the scowl -fled for the moment from his face. - -"Don't play the fool, Rosemary," he said in his slangy, boyish way. -"Tell me what Aunt Elza has been saying to you out here?" - -"But, you silly boy," she riposted, "there's nothing to tell." - -Back came the scowl on Peter's face, darker than before. - -"So," he said curtly, "I suppose that you and Aunt Elza and Anna have -been discussing frocks for the past hour and a half." - -"No, dear," she replied coolly, "only the arrangements for to-morrow's -ball." - -Whereupon Peter said "Damn!" and swung round on his heel, as if he meant -to leave her there without another word. But for this move of his -Rosemary was unprepared. She did not want Peter to go. Not just yet. She -was perfectly loyal to him in her thoughts, and she was irrevocably -determined not to break her promise to Jasper, but she was not going to -let Peter go off to-day without some sort of explanation. She might not -see him again after this--for weeks, for months, for years! So she -called him back. - -"Peter!" she cried. - -He swung back and returned to her side. His deep, changeful eyes, which -at times were the colour of the ocean on the Cornish coast, and at -others recalled the dark tints of his Hungarian ancestors, looked -strangely resentful still. But as his glance rested on Rosemary, -wandered from her delicate face in the pearly shadow of her garden hat, -along the contour of her graceful body in repose, down to the tips of -her dainty white shoes, the resentful look fled. And Rosemary, glancing -up, caught a momentary flash of that soul-holding gaze which had taken -her captive that lovely night in June by the river, when she had lain -crushed and bruised in his arms, the gaze which that other night in the -Albert Hall box had filled her soul with abiding regret. - -"What do you want me to tell you, Peter?" she asked in that stupid way -that comes to the lips when the soul is stirred and the mind commands -self-control. - -"Nothing," he replied roughly, "that you don't want to." - -"Peter," she retorted, "why are you so strange with me? One would think -I had done something to offend you. You scarcely will speak to me; when -you do you are so rough and so abrupt, as if--as if----Oh, I don't -know," she went on rapidly, and her voice shook a little as she tried to -avoid that memory-conjuring glance of his. "It seems as if something had -come between us, almost as if we were enemies." - -Peter laughed at this, but his laugh sounded rather forced and harsh. - -"Enemies!" he exclaimed. "Good God, no!" - -"But something has happened, Peter," she insisted. "I cannot tell you -how I find you changed." - -"Well," he said curtly, "something did happen, you know, when you -married Jasper." - -"I don't mean that, Peter. I saw you in London after I was engaged, and -you had not changed then. It is here--in this place--that you seem so -different." - -"You must admit the place gets on one's nerves," he said with a shrug. - -"You must make allowances, Peter," she rejoined gently. "They are in -such trouble." - -"Are they?" he retorted. - -"Why, you know they are!" And her voice rang with a note of indignant -reproach. "How can you ask?" - -"I ask because I don't know. You say that they--I suppose you mean Aunt -Elza and Maurus and the kids--are in trouble. How should I know what you -mean? Since I've been here they have done nothing but shout, dance and -make plans for more dancing and shouting, and when I ask you anything -you only tell me lies." - -"Peter!" - -"I beg your pardon, dear," he said with sudden gentleness. "I didn't -mean to be caddish. But you know," he went on, harshly once more, "you -did tell me that Jasper had gone to Budapest on business." - -"Well?" she queried. - -"Well! Knowing you to be truthful by nature, I am wondering why you -should have told me such an unnecessary lie." Then, as Rosemary was -silent, he insisted: "Won't you tell me, Rosemary?" - -"You are talking nonsense, Peter," she replied obstinately. "There is -nothing to tell." - -"Which means that Jasper has told you--or insinuated--that I am not to -be trusted." - -She protested: "Certainly not!" - -"Then," he concluded, "the mistrust comes out of your own heart." - -"That again is nonsense, Peter. There is no question of trust or -mistrust, and I have no idea what you mean. It is you who try to deceive -me by feigning ignorance of what is going on in this house. If Aunt Elza -has not spoken openly with you, it certainly is not for me to enlighten -you. There," she added, as she caught a look of eager questioning in his -eyes, "I have already said more than I have any right to say. Elza and -Anna are coming across the lawn. If you want to know anything more, you -had better ask them." - -And abruptly she rose and left him and went into the house. She felt -hurt and angry and not a little ashamed. She felt hurt with Peter, angry -with Jasper and ashamed of herself. Peter was quite right. She had told -him lies--unnecessary lies. And Jasper had forced her to tell them and -to be disloyal to Peter. The present situation was a false one, utterly -false. It was Peter who should take over the direction of Elza's plan. -With his help the chances of Philip's and Anna's escape would be -increased ten-fold. It seemed an awful thing--it was an awful -thing--that he should be shut out of Elza's councils, that he should go -away on a futile and trivial errand while those of his own kith and kin -were in such terrible danger, and running into dangers that were worse -still. - -For the last time the temptation returned, and with double violence, to -break her promise to Jasper and go straight back to Peter and tell him -everything. She paused in the centre of the drawing-room and looked back -through the wide-open glass doors. Peter was still on the veranda. He -had picked up a stick and a tennis ball and was hitting the one with the -other and humming a tune. He caught Rosemary's eye as she glanced back -to look at him. - -"Hallo!" he called gaily. - -Rosemary went deliberately back to the glass door. She paused under the -lintel; then she said earnestly: - -"Don't go to Hódmezö to-day, Peter. I am sure there is no necessity -for you to go. You can book rooms by telephone, and, anyway----" She -paused a moment and then went on more earnestly still: "Wait another -twenty-four hours, Peter. Don't go till--till after the ball." - -Peter did not look at her. He was taking careful aim with the stick and -the tennis ball. He made a swinging hit and watched the ball fly away -over the lawn. Then he threw the stick down and turned to Rosemary. - -"Sorry," he said lightly, "but I have promised." - -She gave an impatient sigh, and after another second's hesitation once -more turned to go. - -"I say," he called after her, "what about a game of tennis? There's just -time for a set before I need make a start." - -But by now all temptation to talk openly with Peter had vanished. What -would be the use of telling this irresponsible boy anything? Jasper was -right. Elza was right. Only she, Rosemary, was foolish, and her vaunted -knowledge of human nature nothing but vanity. She had only sufficient -self-control left to call back lightly to him: - -"No, thank you, Peter, I am rather tired." - -Then she fled precipitately out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - - -Rosemary did not see Peter again before he left. Somehow that last -vision which she had of him, hitting at a rubber ball with a stick, and -his utterly callous suggestion of a game of tennis at an hour which he -must have known was fateful to all his kindred, had caused a revulsion -in Rosemary's heart. She felt that never again would she feel tempted to -break her work to Jasper. Indeed, she felt how right Jasper had been all -along in insisting that she should not discuss the grave events that -affected the lives of all the inmates of Kis-Imre with such a callous, -empty-headed, irresponsible young jackanapes as Peter had lately become. - -So she had gone upstairs to her room, and with a curious heartache, for -which she was unable to account, she listened to the familiar bustle and -noise that always filled the château whenever visitors came or went. -Somehow she could not bring herself to say "Good-bye" to Peter. Elza had -told her that he would be coming back within the next week or so, but -Rosemary, who felt too tired for introspection, could not have told you -whether she was glad or sorry at the prospect of seeing him again quite -so soon. - -The rest of the day, as well as the long, interminable evening, were -taken up with the discussion of household affairs--the luncheon, the -dinner, the ball, and even into these Philip and Anna entered -whole-heartedly and with apparent complete disregard of what that fateful -morrow might bring them. As for Elza, she was perfectly marvellous! -Kind, fussy as usual, her menus and the airing of the guest-rooms being, -to all appearances, the most important matters in her mind. - -After everyone had gone to bed little Anna came to Rosemary's room and -sat for a while beside her on the sofa, holding the Englishwoman's hand -as if she wished to transfuse through those slender fingers strength and -courage into her soul. When Rosemary made a passing allusion to the -wonderful stoicism that could allow trivial matters to seem so important -at a moment when life and worse were at stake, Anna explained quite -gently: - -"We are made like that, we Hungarians. We hold our lives cheap, I think, -because throughout our history we have always had to sacrifice them for -our country. And also, I think, that we have a certain Oriental fatalism -in us. Not the fatalism of the Moslem, who abdicates free will, but the -faith of the Christian who believes that God ordains everything and that -it is useless to fight His decrees." - -"And yet you are not a religious people," Rosemary riposted, thinking of -what Elza had said to her the night before. - -"Only in the sense that children are religious," Anna rejoined. "We -accept blindly what some kind nuns and ignorant priests have taught us, -and we believe in an Almighty God more absolutely and ingenuously than -the more thoughtful people of the West." - -Long after Anna had gone Rosemary thought over what the child had said. -Well, perhaps it was true. There certainly was an exquisitely beautiful -passage in the New Testament where the Divine Master enjoins his -disciples to become as little children. And, recollecting Anna's words, -Rosemary caught herself wondering whether the childlike faith of these -people here would not open the Kingdom of Heaven more easily for them -than would a more considered, more rational religion--a compromise -between a very erring human reason and the Divine Mysteries which no -human thought could fathom. - -As for the next day, it was just a whirl, a jumble of gaieties and talk, -of arrivals and merry greetings, of meals and tennis and walks, and of -talk, talk, talk and endless laughter. Rosemary, when she rose, had made -up her mind that she would just shed her real personality for the whole -of the day. She would cease to be Rosemary with the aching heart, the -soul rent by conflicting duties, by anxieties, determination and sorrow; -she would become the "dear Lady Tarkington," the "Rosemary darling" of -all these kind, hospitable, wonderful people. She would laugh with them, -play with them, and with them lay aside for the next few hours the -torturing anxiety of the day. - -She would forget, she would laugh, she would talk. The effort would do -her good, and when the hour came when the fate of all those she cared -for would have to be decided, when on one word, one smile, would perhaps -hang the destiny of Philip and of Anna, then she would be strong enough -to play the part allotted to her in the tragic farce--the farce that had -found birth in the brain of a heart-broken mother. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - - -And it had been a wonderful day. The weather was perfect. Every one was -in the highest possible spirits. The chef surpassed himself; every one -pronounced the lobster à l'Américaine perfect and the Charlotte Russe -Créole quite inimitable. - -All afternoon tennis balls were flying, and there was coffee, ices and -iced drinks going all day on the lawn. At five o'clock the gipsy -musicians from Bonczhida arrived, and after that music never ceased. -Rosemary learned something of gipsy endurance that day, for this band of -twelve musicians never left off playing from the moment they arrived -until--until midnight, when time ceased to be and Fate began to swing -her long pendulum. - -But between five o'clock and midnight there was music, ceaseless music. -While the guests arrived, while everyone played tennis, croquet, drank -coffee, walked, flirted, dressed, dined and danced there was -music--music all the time. - -After dinner the young Roumanian officers from the garrison at Cluj came -over in several motors. Among them were the eleven cricketers, very -proud of themselves, feeling quite English and real sportsmen, delighted -to have been chosen to play in the historic match. Fine-looking young -men, most of them, with the unmistakable swaggering air of the conqueror -about their whole attitude towards the subject race. Elza was invariably -a perfect hostess; but Maurus, after a curt greeting, nursed his wrath -in a corner of the ballroom, surrounded by his own friends. He had been -drilled to keep his temper in check, and love for his only son, anxiety -for him and knowledge of danger gave him for this one evening a certain -amount of self-control. Rosemary admired him as much as she did the -others, for she knew what it cost Maurus to have these alien conquerors -in his house. - -Anna's mother and sister had come over from Ujlak. The mother was a hard -woman, obviously selfish and unsympathetic. Her own grievances, the -confiscation of a great deal of her property, seemed to have smothered -every soft, womanly instinct in her. Apparently she knew nothing of the -danger that hung over her daughter, and Rosemary had the feeling that if -she had known she would not greatly have cared. Her eyes, which were -dark and set very wide apart in a flat, colourless face, only softened -once, and that was when she spoke about her husband, who had died just -before the war. - -As for persecutions, humiliations, petty tyrannies, she dismissed them -with a shrug of the shoulders. "The Roumanians are the scum of the -earth," she said in her quiet, unemotional manner, through her thin, -colourless lips, "just a horde of uneducated peasantry; you can't expect -anything from a pig but a grunt. I am only thankful that Béla is not -here to see it all." - -On the other hand, the young people who filled the stately château of -Kis-Imre with their flutterings like an army of gaily-painted -butterflies did not worry about political grievances. For them the -Roumanian officers were just dancing-partners, and their worth was only -measured by their proficiency in the latest steps. The mammas and papas -either played bridge or sat on the chairs that were ranged against the -walls all round the beautiful ballroom placidly admiring the evolutions -of their own progeny. - -Rosemary, not to be outdone in self-discipline, was outwardly as gay as -any of them. She danced impartially with the Hungarians and the -Roumanians, and talked cricket knowledgeably with the team. For her the -atmosphere was electrical. At times it seemed to her over-strained -senses as if she could hear the whir of the spinning-wheel driven by the -Fates, the hum of the spindle, and the click of their scissors as they -made ready to cut the thread of these people's destiny. - -Just before midnight the young Roumanian officers who formed the cricket -team left in the two motor-cars which were to take them direct to -Hódmezö, a matter of ninety odd miles. Rosemary found herself saying -good-bye to them like an automaton--counting them over as if they were -ninepins. A kind of mist was before her eyes through which their -good-looking faces seemed to be grinning at her, and their moustaches -bristling like Alice's Cheshire cat. - -Elza, wonderful as ever, fussed around them, stuffing delicacies into -the cars at the last moment, fruit, bottles of wine, cakes, chocolates, -and lending them rugs and cushions. - -"It is a long drive," she said, as she shook hands one by one with the -young officers, who clicked their heels together, jingled their spurs -and declared that they had had a very pleasant evening. "You will be -hungry when you get to Hódmezö," she added, "and all the restaurants -will be closed. You will be glad of a glass of wine and some of my -home-made cake." - -Rosemary was standing next to Maurus Imrey at the time. She heard him -mutter between his teeth: - -"And may it choke you when you eat and drink." - -But even Maurus was wonderful. Wonderful! He shook hands. He -smiled--wryly; but he smiled. Wished them all God-speed. He had been -well drilled, and he was fully conscious of the danger to Philip and -Anna if he lost control over his temper now. - -So he, too, gave directions for putting provisions into the cars. He had -four bottles of French red wine in his cellar and he insisted that the -young officers should have those. "It will make them play that silly -cricket better," he said. "And I hate the stuff myself." - -The four men who were going with the team as servants were there -arranging the rugs, stowing the wine and fruit and cake in the cars. -Rosemary knew the two sons of Jànos, the miller, by sight. They were -fine, well-set-up young fellows, obviously of the stuff that heroes are -made of, for they were going to risk their lives for the children of -their feudal lords. - -Anna, equally self-possessed, flitted among the guests like a little -fairy. She had on a pale blue dress, and out in the open her slim figure -was hardly distinguishable in the gloom; only her small, white face told -as if carved out of alabaster: that dear little face, with the big eyes -that were so like Peter's. When she was saying "good-bye" to one of the -young officers, who had been her dancing-partner, she said with a pout: - -"I think it was horrid of you to telephone to Peter Blakeney yesterday -and take him away from us. I don't believe you would have had any -difficulty with the hotel people about your rooms. And, anyway, you -might have let Peter have another day's enjoyment." - -The young man appeared genuinely bewildered. - -"Will the gracious lady deign to explain?" he asked. - -"Oh, there is nothing to explain," Anna said, with a light laugh. "We -were all of us very angry with you for sending that telephone message -which took Peter Blakeney away from us." - -"But pardon me, dear lady," the officer rejoined, "we didn't send any -telephone message to Monsieur Blakeney. As a matter of fact, we fully -expected to find him here." - -"But about your rooms----?" Anna insisted. - -"Our rooms at Hódmezö have been arranged for ages ago. Everything -there is in perfect order and----" - -"Anna, dear," Rosemary broke in quickly, "Peter didn't say who sent him -the telephone message. He only said that he had one. It may have come -from Hódmezö--from one of the hotel people--he didn't say----" - -What had prompted Rosemary to interpose at this moment she did not know. -It was just an instinct: the blind instinct to protect, to shield Peter -from something ugly and vague, that she had not yet had time to see -clearly, and Anna then went on lightly: - -"Oh, of course he didn't say. Anyway, when you see Peter, tell him he -was very silly to go away, and that he missed a great deal by not being -here to-night. You can tell him that Marie never danced so well in all -her life, and the gipsies from Bonczhida simply surpassed themselves." - -Whereupon the young officer clicked his heels and promised that he would -deliver the message. - -"But we shan't see Monsieur Blakeney," he said, "until the evening. You -know the match is not until Thursday. Monsieur Blakeney arranged to meet -us in Hódmezö on Wednesday evening, and this is only Tuesday." - -"It will be Wednesday morning before we start," one of his friends broke -in lightly, "if you don't hurry, you old chatterbox." - -After that, more "good-byes" and waving of hands as the motor-cars -rounded the courtyard and finally swung out of the gates. Rosemary -looked round to catch sight of Elza. She was quite placid, and on her -dear, round face there was a set smile. Evidently she was unconscious of -the fact that something stupendous had happened, something that had hit -Rosemary on the head like a blow from a sledgehammer. No, no! Elza had -not noticed. Elza's mind was no longer here. It was way out upon the -dusty road, watching a motor-car travelling at full speed over the -frontier away from this land of bondage, to Hungary to freedom. Elza had -noticed nothing. Anna and Philip were still laughing and chattering, -Maurus muttering curses. No one had noticed anything. Only for Rosemary -had the world--her own beautiful world of truth and loyalty--come to an -end. Peter had lied. Peter was playing a double game. It was no use -arguing, no use hoping. The only thing to do was to go on groping in -this mystery that deepened and deepened, until it became tangible, -material like a thick, dark fog through which glided ghouls and demons -who whispered and laughed. And they whispered and laughed because Peter -had lied and because she, Rosemary, saw all her hopes, her faith, her -ideals lying shattered in a tangled heap at her feet. Peter had lied. He -had acted a lie. He told her that he had promised to go to Hódmezö to -see about rooms for the cricket team. Well, that was not true. Rosemary -had interposed, made some excuse for Peter. She wouldn't have those -Roumanians think that Peter was a liar. They would have smiled, -suggested some amorous intrigue which Monsieur Blakeney wished to keep -dark. At the thought Rosemary's gorge rose, and she put in a lame -defence for Peter. But all the time she knew that he had lied. If Peter -did not go to Hódmezö yesterday, where was he now? Why all this -secrecy? These lies? - -Why? Oh, God, why? - -Rosemary had found a quiet corner in the hall where she could sit and -think for a moment. Yet thinking was the one thing she could not do. -Always, at every turn she was confronted with that hideous query: Why -had Peter lied? After a while she had to give up trying to think. Fate's -spindle was whirring, the scissors clinking. She, Rosemary, a mere atom -in the hands of Fate, must continue to play her part. - -A quarter of an hour must have gone by while she sat--trying to -think--in the dark. Perhaps more. Anyway, when she returned to the -ballroom she found the company much diminished in numbers. All the -Roumanian officers had gone, also one large party who lived just the -other side of Cluj. Only a few remained whose châteaux were too far -away for a midnight start, seeing that motors were forbidden to the -conquered race. They were going to spend the night at Kis-Imre, and -probably make a start in the morning. The young people had already -resumed dancing; the gipsies were playing the latest fox-trot. The -mammas and papas were placidly admiring their respective progeny. - -All this Rosemary took in at a glance. - -Then she looked round for Elza. But neither Elza nor Maurus was there. -And Philip and Anna had also gone. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - - -A few minutes later Elza came back. To Rosemary, who had been watching -for her by the door, she just whispered as she entered: "It is all -right. They have gone." - -She still was wonderful. Quite calm and with that set smile on her face. -Only her round, blue eyes had an unusual glitter, and the pretty -silvered hair clung matted against the smooth, white brow. Rosemary -watched the scene, now entranced. She had never seen anything like it. -It did not seem reality at all. It could not be. All these people here -were just puppets and they were play-acting. They could not have behaved -as they did if they had been real. - -There were no longer any Roumanians there. They were all Hungarians -together--just a few of them, all from Transylvania, the wretched, -occupied territory, in which everybody was something of a slave, never -allowed to forget for an instant that they were the defeated, and that -they must submit. All were relatives or else very intimate friends. And, -after a while, they began to notice that Philip and Anna were not there. -At first they asked questions. Where were Philip and Anna? Elza said -nothing. She only gave an answering look here and there, a quiver of the -eyelid and certain setting of the lips. She did not say anything, but it -was remarkable how everybody understood. - -Rosemary watched every face and knew that they understood. They asked no -more questions. They accepted the situation. Philip and Anna had gone. -They had to go as countless others, who had to fly at dead of night, get -the other side of the frontier as quickly as possible, to escape from -military tribunal, chicanery, persecution, or even death. - -It was late now, long past midnight. The gipsies had been sent -downstairs to get some supper. The mammas and papas declared that it was -time to go to bed. The young people thanked dear Aunt Elza for such a -happy time, the young men kissed her hand. One or two of the older -people whispered: "Good luck!" Others said reassuringly: "Don't fret, -they will be all right." Never a question about Philip and Anna. Never a -comment. They knew. They understood. - -Orders were given for the carriages to be ready at nine o'clock the next -morning. With the innate delicacy that underlay so much apparent -pleasure-loving, they wished to relieve as soon as practicable this -house of sorrow from the burden of their presence. - -By half-past twelve ballroom, hall, reception-rooms were all empty. Elza -waited downstairs till the last of the servants had gone. Rosemary -helped her at the last to put the gold service away in the strong -cupboard. It consisted of half a dozen pieces of great artistic beauty -and equally great value. Each piece had to be wrapped up in cotton wool -and green baize. Elza did it all, and Rosemary could see that her podgy, -white hands did not tremble, and that she put every piece away with her -usual meticulous care. Only when her task was accomplished and there was -nothing more to do but to switch off the light, did Elza's stoicism give -way. She sank into a chair, her head fell back against the cushions, and -a leaden tint spread over her cheeks and lips. Rosemary quickly poured -some brandy into a glass, and kneeling beside her tried to get her to -drink some of it. To please her, Elza sipped a few drops. A wan smile -spread over her face. - -"Don't worry about me, Rosemary darling," she said, "I am quite well." - -She jumped up at once and added: "I must see how poor Maurus is." - -"Come into my room afterwards," Rosemary suggested, "and rest there on -the sofa. I know you won't sleep." - -"Yes," Elza replied, "I will come as soon as I can get Maurus to sleep. -I think he may get to sleep presently. But I don't think I shall. You -see, we ought to get a telephone message through from Hódmezö the -first thing in the morning. Philip and I agreed on a code. If everything -is all right he is to give Peter Blakeney's name and say that the -weather is beautiful in Hungary, and every arrangement for the cricket -match splendid. After I get that message I shall probably sleep." - -She had toiled up the stairs while she was talking, and Rosemary -followed close behind her, ready to catch her if she swooned. - -"I won't say 'good night' now," Elza said when she neared her bedroom -door. "You go to bed, Rosemary darling, and I will come in presently for -a little talk when Maurus is asleep." - -Rosemary went into her room. She undid her hair and slipped into a -dressing-gown. It was no use going to bed; she knew she would not be -able to go to sleep. It was just a case of waiting. Of watching, of -praying, and commending those two young creatures to God. Watching and -praying, with eyes fixed upon the hands of the clock, following in -imagination every phase of to-night's adventures. Every detail. At this -hour they would be at the mill, all the actors in the drama which poor -Elza had invented. Philip and Anna would be there, changing into -peasants' clothes, and Jànos the miller would be setting out the mugs -and the spirit, which would make the Jew's son and the brother of the -Roumanian storekeeper blind to the world. Old Emma would be there too, -the miller's wife, the mother of the two boys who were going to risk so -much for Philip's sake and Anna's. Emma would be fussing round with -cloth and duster. Grumbling and fussing. Knowing nothing of the drama on -which the curtain would ring up in the parlour of her cottage, and in -which her two sons would be playing leading rôles. Jànos would not -have told her. He, the father, had agreed to it all; had even suggested -it. But the mother? No! If she knew she would protest. Weep, of course. -Weaken the resolution of the two boys who just had to go through with it -all. - -And now the motor would be drawing up at the mill, and Jànos the miller -would ask the company to walk in and have a drink. Even the motor-driver -would be persuaded. Just a drop of spirit as it was a long drive all the -way to Hódmezö. Time was moving leaden-footed up here in the château. -But not so at the mill while Janos was telling funny stories and plying -his guests with drink. Leaden-footed! My God! how slowly did those clock -hands move! Only half an hour gone by since Elza had switched oil all -the lights, and the whole château was plunged in darkness, and every -sound was stilled. - -So still! Only the ticking of the clock, and at times the click of the -scissors of Fate, ready to cut the thread of two young lives--or more, -perhaps--if anything went wrong, if the slightest mistake was made, if -any one man proved disloyal--or a liar. - -Rosemary shuddered although the night was hot. She could not sit still. -At times she felt that she could not breathe. She went out upon the -balcony and listened. Listened. The air was so still that she felt she -must hear presently the whir of the motor when it made a fresh start -from the mill half a mile away. Far away on the hillside a fox gave a -cry, and from the old thatched barn close by came the melancholy hoot of -an owl. - -Then the village church clock struck the half-hour. Half-past one. More -than an hour since Rosemary, going into the ballroom, had noted that -Philip and Anna were no longer there. In one of the homesteads on the -outskirts of the village a cock crew. In another two hours dawn would be -breaking, and the motor was to be in Hódmezö before sunrise. And -suddenly Rosemary heard right through the stillness a crepitation and -then a whir. And then the whirring died away very gradually, and -stillness reigned once more. Absolute! - -"They've started!" - -It was Elza's voice close to Rosemary's elbow. Rosemary had not heard -her timid knock, and Elza had slipped into the room and now stood by the -open window, listening. The voice was quite calm, with just a ring in it -of exultation rather than excitement. Rosemary took her hand. It was -quite cold. She fondled it and warmed it between her own. - -There was a wicker chair on the balcony and some cushions. Rosemary made -Elza sit down, and then she piled up the cushions and squatted on them -at Elza's feet, fondling her hands and caressing them by laying her -young, velvety cheek against them. - -The night was exquisitely beautiful, with the waning moon, mysterious -and honey-coloured in a firmament shimmering with stars. In the borders -the flowers slept, the evening primroses had folded their golden petals, -the scarlet pentstemons hidden their brilliance in the gloom; only the -heliotrope and the Nicotiana swung their censers, lazily sending their -heady perfume through the night, and the white tufted pansies shone like -numberless tiny mirrors, reflecting the stars. - -"Did Maurus get to sleep?" Rosemary asked after a while. - -"Yes," Elza replied. "I gave him a cachet of aspirin. It quieted his -nerves, and after a while he went to sleep." - -"Won't you just dose your eyes, Elza, and try to rest a little? The -night is young yet, and I am afraid you'll be ill if you don't get a -little rest. You've gone through so much!" - -"Presently, darling," Elza said quietly. "I dare say I shall drop to -sleep, as I am very tired. But not just yet. I would like to stay here a -little longer--unless I am bothering you." Then as Rosemary gave her -knees an affectionate hug, she went on gently: "I love the smell of -flowers in the night, don't you? They smell quite differently to what -they do in the daytime." And presently she went on _à propos_ of -nothing at all: - -"There is just one difficult place where the driver might miss his way. -That would delay them a little, but even so they should be very near the -frontier by now." - -"Have you arranged to get any news?" Rosemary asked. - -"Philip is to telephone from Hódmezö as soon as the office is open." - -"You won't hear before then?" - -"Yes. I told Jànos to say to the motor-driver that if he will drive -straight back here from Hódmezö there will be a thousand leis for him, -and if he gets here before eight o'clock then he will get two thousand." - -After the village church clock had struck three Elza became very still, -but Rosemary did not think that she was actually asleep. Her hands were -very cold, and her breath came and went more rapidly than usual. -Rosemary rose noiselessly to her feet, she got the eiderdown from her -bed and wrapped it round Elza's knees. Elza did not move. Her pretty -round face showed very white in the light of the waning moon, and all -her hair seemed to have lost its golden tint and shimmered like threads -of silver. - -Rosemary went back into the room and lay down on the sofa. The air was -very close, and she was very tired, so tired that she must have fallen -asleep. Presently something roused her and she opened her eyes. The room -was flooded with the golden light of dawn. She jumped to her feet and -went to the window. Elza was not on the balcony; but Rosemary, looking -over the balustrade, saw her on the veranda about to descend the steps. - -"Elza," she called down softly, "wait for me." - -Elza nodded acquiescence, and Rosemary ran downstairs just as she was, -in dressing-gown and slippers, with her hair all hanging loosely round -her shoulders. Elza had waited on the veranda for her quite patiently; -she linked her arm in Rosemary's. - -"You were able to sleep a little, darling," she said. "I am so glad." - -"And what about you, Elza?" Rosemary retorted. - -"Oh, I slept quite nicely," Elza replied in her quiet, simple way, -"until the dawn closed the eyes of the night one by one, and the moon -went down behind the old acacia trees." - -"I quite forgot to look at the time," Rosemary rejoined. - -"It was half-past four when I left your room. I went to have a peep at -Maurus. He is still asleep." - -"Thank God for that. He will only wake to hear the good news." - -Rosemary could no longer keep the excitement out of her voice. Another -two or three hours and this terrible suspense would be over. She hardly -dared to look at Elza, for she felt the dear creature's body quivering -against hers. The first glance had shown her Elza's face the colour of -ashes, with swollen eyelids and red hectic spots on her cheek-bones. But -outwardly she was still quite calm, and when together they reached the -dew-wet lawn she threw back her head and with obvious delight drank in -the sweet morning air. - -"It is astonishing," she said, "that one should be able to sleep -when--when things happen like they did to-night." - -"You were dog-tired, Elza, and the air was so wonderfully balmy and -soothing. I think," Rosemary went on gently, "that God sent down a -couple of his guardian angels to fan you to sleep with their wings." - -"Perhaps," Elza assented with a tired smile. - -"Do you feel like a walk, as far as the perennial border?" - -"Why, yes. I should love it. And we still have hours to kill." - -Already sounds of awakening village life filled the morning with their -welcome strains. The fox and the owl were silent, but two cocks gave -answer to one another, and from the homesteads and the farms came a -lowing and a bleating and a barking, the beasts rousing the humans to -activity, and calling them to the work of the day. - -As Elza's and Rosemary's footsteps crunched the gravel of the path, -Mufti, the big sheep-dog, and Karo, the greyhound, came from nowhere in -particular, bounding across the lawn, and threw themselves in the -exuberance of their joy upon these two nice humans who had shortened the -lonely morning hours for them. - -"Let's go and see the moss-roses," Rosemary suggested, "and see if they -smell as sweet as they did in the night." - -They walked on to the end of the perennial border, where two or three -clumps of moss-roses nestled at the foot of a tall crimson Rugosa laden -with blossom. - -"Dear little things," Elza said. "They are my favourite flowers. I like -them so much better than all those wonderful new roses that get the -prizes at the horticultural shows." - -She stooped to inhale the fragrance of the roses, and while she was -stooping a faint, very distant whirring sound became audible, which grew -in volume every moment. Just for the space of one second Elza did not -move; she remained just as she was, stooping, and with her face buried -in the roses. Then she straightened out her fine figure and grasped -Rosemary's hand. - -"The motor," she said huskily. "Let us go." - -The end of the perennial border where they were was nearly a quarter of -a mile away from the house, and then there was the house to get round, -the courtyard to cross----The whirring grew louder every moment, then -slower, and then it ceased. The car had come to a halt, but not in front -of the gates which were still closed. Rosemary and Elza were in the -courtyard with Mufti and Karo jumping about them and getting in the way. -The motor was not in sight. - -"Down, Mufti! Karo, down!" Elza kept repeating mechanically. - -She was rather breathless after that race across the garden. Rosemary -ran to the lodge to call Feri, the night-watchman, who had the keys of -the gate. He had heard the dogs barking and the voice of the gracious -countess, so he was on the doorstep wondering what had brought the -ladies out at this hour of the morning. - -"Quick, Feri, open the gates!" Rosemary called to him. - -It took Feri a few moments to get the keys to unlock the gates. An -eternity. - -From the direction of the village there had come a loud cry, followed -after a few seconds by shouts and the sound of men running. Running and -shouting, and now and then another shrill cry. - -"Run ahead quickly, Feri," Rosemary whispered to the watchman. "Quickly, -see what it is." - -She held Elza's hand in a tight clutch, and under her arm. But even so -Elza succeeded in breaking free, and while Feri ran on ahead, she did -not lag far behind. Past the thick clump of acacias, the village street -came in sight. At the end of it, a quarter of a mile away, in front of -the inn which was kept by the Jew, a motor-car had come to a halt, and -some half-dozen peasants stood round it, gesticulating and arguing. Down -the street, from one or two of the cottages, men, women and children -came running out to see what was happening, and when they caught sight -of the gracious countess and the gracious foreign lady they paused, -bewildered. The gracious countess--at this hour in the village! Such a -thing had never happened before. The men doffed their hats, the women -hastily bobbed a curtsey, the children stood stock-still, finger in -mouth, staring. A few, bolder than the rest, ran forward to kiss the -ladies' hands. But Elza hastened on, seeing nothing, heeding nothing, -whilst Rosemary kept close by her side. Feri, as he drew near to the -inn, shouted to the people to make way. But as soon as he came in close -sight of the car he turned and hastened back to Elza. He clasped his -hands together and cried: - -"Don't come, gracious countess. Don't come! It is nothing, nothing, just -an accident, a----" - -Silently, with lips tightly pressed together, Elza pushed past him, but -Rosemary now had once more taken hold of her hand. She held Elza tight, -with one arm round her waist and the other clutching her hand. Struggle -as she might, Elza could not free herself this time. - -The next moment they stood together by the side of the motor. It was a -large, rather shabby touring car, painted a dull grey and fitted with -leather cushions. It was smothered in dust. There was no one in the back -seats, but the innkeeper was just in the act of climbing in beside the -chauffeur. The chauffeur appeared to be asleep; he sat like a huddled-up -heap, wrapped in a dirty, military coat, and with his peaked cap pulled -down over his face. The innkeeper appeared rather scared. He took hold -of the military coat and pulled it open, and immediately he clapped his -hand to his mouth, smothering a scream. The cap rolled off the -chauffeur's head, and his right arm dropped down the side of the car. -One man who stood quite near, not knowing probably that the two ladies -were there, cried excitedly: - -"God in heaven! The man has been shot--dead!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - - -There was no one there quite so self-possessed as Elza. Even Rosemary -had some difficulty in smothering a cry. The innkeeper jumped down from -the seat as if he had been driven away by a whip; the peasants -gesticulated and jabbered in an undertone. Rosemary looked at Elza and -clutched her hand more tightly against her own body. Elza's face was the -colour of lead, her lips looked purple, even her large, blue eyes -appeared colourless. Her hand was as cold as ice and shook in Rosemary's -strength-giving clasp. But to the eyes of all these peasants and -subordinates she appeared perfectly calm, and after a moment or two she -turned to the group of jabbering, gesticulating peasants and asked quite -quietly: - -"Which of you first saw the motor draw up?" - -"I heard the noise, gracious countess," the Jew volunteered, "as the car -drew up outside the door, and----" - -"And I saw the soldier jump down," a young labourer broke in excitedly. -"He ran----" - -"Very well," Elza said coldly. "Now you, and you," she went on and -pointed to the innkeeper and to the labourer, "come inside and tell me -what you have seen. Will you come, too, darling?" she asked Rosemary. - -Finally she turned to her own man Feri: - -"One of you," she said, "had better go to the gendarmerie. They ought to -have been here by now." - -Then she went into the inn; the Jew and the labourer followed, and the -peasants, having looked their fill at the car, or else scared by that -lifeless bundle in the chauffeur's seat, crowded together in the doorway -of the inn. But Rosemary lagged behind for a moment, examining the car -as if she expected the huge, shabby thing to yield up the key of its own -mystery. But in the body of the car there was nothing, except the -cushions and the dust and the huddled figure of the dead chauffeur, with -the head fallen forward on the breast, and the arm hanging over the side -of the car. Rosemary turned away from it at first with a shudder, but -almost despite her will her eyes turned back to gaze again at that -huddled-up heap and the limp arm, from beneath the coat-sleeve of which -a thin filet of blood trickled drop by drop to the ground. - -And suddenly something white and crisp fell from the lifeless hand into -the dust at Rosemary's feet. She stooped and picked it up. Fortunately -the jabberings peasants were not looking this way, and Feri had walked -off to the gendarmerie. What Rosemary had picked up was a letter -addressed to "Lady Tarkington." She tore open the envelope and read: - -"A very clumsy attempt, dear lady. As you see, it has led to no good. -Your two protégés are now under my direct care, and you have little -more than a fortnight in which to write the newspaper articles which I -want." - -The letter was signed "Naniescu." Rosemary slipped it into the pocket of -her gown, and then she went into the inn. The peasants all made way for -her, and then crowded again in the doorway, trying to hear what was -going on. Rosemary thought the long, low room one of the stuffiest and -most evil-smelling places she had ever been in. It was very dark, the -light only feebly penetrating through two tiny, unpracticable windows, -the panes of which were covered in dust. The only breath of fresh air -that could possibly find its way in would have been through the door, -but that was blocked now by a solid bundle of perspiring humanity. From -the low raftered ceiling hung strings of onions and maize, and in a -corner of the room, on a low table which was apparently used as a -counter, were numerous bottles and a number of pewter mugs. The odour in -the room was a mixture of dirt, onions, and silverium. But Elza, who sat -beside the table with the innkeeper and the peasants before her, -appeared quite unconscious of smells or dirt. She was questioning the -labourer, who apparently was the only man who had actually witnessed the -arrival of the motor-car into the village. - -"I saw it come, gracious countess," he said, with obvious pride in his -own importance, "and I saw it draw up outside here. There was a soldier -sitting near the chauffeur." - -"And he was in the driving seat?" Elza asked. - -"Yes, gracious countess, the soldier was driving when I first saw the -car come along the road." - -"And the other man?" - -"Well, gracious countess, I saw a sort of heaped-up bundle beside the -chauffeur. I did not know there was another man." - -"Well, then, what happened?" - -"The car slowed down, gracious countess, and drew up outside here. Then -the soldier jumped up; he stepped over the heaped-up bundle and got out -of the car." - -"Yes, and then?" - -"He took the thing which I thought was just a bundle covered with a -military coat, and pushed it into the driver's seat. After that he ran -away as fast as he could." - -"In which direction?" - -"Where he had come from, gracious countess. There was another car -waiting for him there about half a kilomètre away." - -"Another car?" - -"Yes; I didn't see it come, but I heard it slow down and come to a halt. -The soldier ran all the way. He jumped into that other car, and it drove -away in the direction of Cluj." - -After that another man stepped in from the doorway and volunteered the -information that he had seen the second car standing about half a -kilomètre away. He had seen the soldier running, and had seen the car -drive off. He thought there was another soldier in that car. - -By that time a couple of gendarmes were on the scene. They were -conducting their own investigations of the case in a casual, perfunctory -manner. At first they took no notice of Elza or of Rosemary, talked over -their heads in a proper democratic manner; then one of them asked curtly -of Elza: - -"Did you see the car drive up?" - -Elza said: "No!" - -"Do you know anything about it?" - -Again she replied: "No!" - -Whereupon the man queried roughly: "Then what are you doing here?" - -Elza's face flushed a little, but she replied quite courteously: "We all -hoped at the castle to hear that the miller's two sons had arrived -safely at Hódmezö, and I thought that this was the car that drove them -in the night." - -The man gave a sneer and a shrug of the shoulders. - -"You seem mightily concerned," he said, with a harsh laugh, "about the -miller's sons, to be out of your bed at this hour of the morning." - -He spat on the ground, turned on his heel, and once more addressed the -peasants. - -"Now, then," he said, quite genially, "all of you get back to your -homes. The Government will see about this affair, and it is no concern -of anybody's. Understand?" - -The two gendarmes waved their arms and drove the people out of the inn -and away from the door as if they were a flock of sheep. They obeyed -without murmur, only with an occasional shrug of the shoulders, as much -as to say: "Well, well, these are strange times, to be sure! But it is -no concern of ours." - -The gendarmes then went out of the inn. They moved the body of the dead -chauffeur into the body of the car; one of them got in beside it, the -other took the driver's seat, and the next moment the mysterious car had -disappeared up the village street in the direction of the gendarmerie. - -When the last of the crowd had dispersed Elza rose, and, white-faced, -wide-eyed, she turned to Rosemary. - -"There is nothing more," she said, "that we can do here. Shall we go -home?" - -She nodded to the Jew, and, leaning heavily on Rosemary's arm, she went -out into the street. It was past six now, and the village was flooded -with sunlight. Elza's tired, aching eyes blinked as she came out into -the open. Rosemary would have put an arm round her to support her, for -she felt that the poor woman was ready to swoon; but mutely and firmly -Elza refused to be supported. Her pride would not allow her, even now, -to show weakness in sight of these cottages, behind the windows of which -the eyes of Roumanian peasants might be on the look-out for her. - -"They are outwardly obsequious," she said, as if in answer to a mute -remark from Rosemary. "Call me gracious countess and kiss my hand, but -at heart they hate us all, and triumph in our humiliation." - -Strange, wonderful people! Even at this hour of supreme anxiety and -acute distress, pride of caste fought every outward expression of sorrow -and conquered in the end. Elza walked through the village with a firm -step and head held quite erect. It was only when she was inside the -gates of her own home that she spoke, and even then her first thought -was for her husband. - -"How to break the news to Maurus!" she murmured under her breath. "My -God, how to break the news." - -In the hall, where Rosemary saw that they were quite alone, she put her -arms round Elza and drew her down into a low-cushioned seat. - -"Elza, darling," she said gently, "have a real cry, it will do you -good." - -Elza shook her head. - -"It won't bring Philip back," she said dully, "nor Anna. Will it?" - -Her big, round eyes gazed with pathetic inquiry into Rosemary's face. -She seemed to have some sort of intuition that her English friend could -help--that she could do something for Philip, even now. Rosemary, her -eyes swimming in tears, slowly shook her head. And with a low moan, Elza -buried her face in the cushions, convulsive sobs shook her shoulders, -and little cries of pain broke intermittently from her lips. Rosemary -made no attempt to touch her. She let her cry on. Perhaps it was for the -best. There was nobody about, and tears were sometimes a solace. The -quietude, the stoicism of the past two hours, had been unnatural, -racking alike to heart, nerves and brain. There was a limit to human -endurance, and Elza had reached it at last. - -When the worst of the paroxysm was over Rosemary suggested gently: -"Would you like me to break the news to Maurus? I'll do it most -carefully, and I am afraid the strain would be too much for you." - -But already Elza had struggled to her feet. She was wiping her eyes, -then breathing on her handkerchief and dabbing them with it. - -"No, no, my dear," she said between the dry, intermittent sobs that -still shook her poor weary body, "not on any account. I understand -Maurus. I know just what to say. Poor, poor Maurus! He has so little -self-control. But I shall know what to say. You go and get your bath -now, darling," she went on, gently disengaging herself from Rosemary's -arms, "and get dressed. It will refresh you. I will do the same before I -speak to Maurus. Rosa shall bring your coffee in half an hour. Will that -do?" - -She forgot nothing, thought of everything--Rosemary's bath, her -breakfast, the guests. Ah, yes, the guests! Rosemary had forgotten all -about them. It was long past six now; they would soon be up. All of them -wanting breakfast, baths, attention. Elza forgot nothing. Thank God that -she had so much to think about! - -"You go up, darling," she said to Rosemary. "I shall be quite all right. -Don't worry about me." - -One or two servants came through the hall, busy with their work. Elza -had something to say, some order to give to all of them. - -"Tell the chef," she said to Anton, "to come and speak to me here. And -don't go into the gracious count's room until I call you." - -Rosemary lingered in the hall a moment or two longer, until the chef, in -immaculate white, tall linen cap in hand, came for his orders. Elza -immediately entered into a long conversation with him on the subject of -milk rolls for breakfast. And Rosemary at last went slowly up the -stairs. Almost without knowing it, she found herself once more in her -room, the pretty, old-fashioned room with the huge bedstead and the -curtains embroidered in cross-stitch. How pretty it looked, and how -peaceful! Through the open window came the sound of bird-song; a -blackbird was whistling, a thrush was singing, a hundred sparrows were -chirruping, and on the large lily leaves on the ornamental lake a frog -was sitting croaking. So peaceful, so still! And, Heavens above, what a -tragedy within these walls! - -For a while Rosemary stood at the open window gazing out upon the -beautiful panorama laid out before her, the prim, well-kept garden, the -flower borders, the shady park, and out, far away, the wooded heights, -the forests of oak and pine which the morning sun had just tinted with -gold. - -And with a sudden impulse Rosemary fell on her knees, just where she -was, at the open window, and she stretched out her arms towards the -Invisible, the Unattainable, the Almighty, and from her heart there came -a cry, forced through her lips by the intensity of despair: - -"Oh God! My God! Tell me what to do!" - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - - -If Rosemary had been gifted with second sight! She would have seen at -the moment when she, in despair, turned to the great Healer for comfort, -General Naniescu and his friend, M. de Kervoisin, enjoying their _petit -déjeuner_ in one of the palatial rooms of the Imreys' house in Cluj. M. -de Kervoisin had arrived the night before. He was the guest of the -general, and after a night's rest was enjoying the company of his host, -as well as the luxury of these beautiful apartments so thoughtfully -placed at the disposal of the military Governor of Transylvania by the -Roumanian Government. - -M. de Kervoisin was also enjoying the anxieties to which his friend was -a prey in his capacity of Governor of this unruly country. There is -something in a friend's troubles that is not altogether displeasing to a -philosopher. And M. de Kervoisin was a philosopher. He had come over to -give advice to his friend, and the rôle of adviser in a difficult -situation was one which he knew how to fulfil with infinite discretion -and supreme tact. Just now, while sipping a cup of most excellent -_café-au-lait_, he listened with every mark of sympathy to Naniescu's -account of the terrible trouble he was having with a certain obstinate -lady journalist who would not do what he wanted. - -"I have only asked her," he lamented, "for a few articles to be -published in the _Times_ which would put us right with the British and -American public; but you know what women are. They never see further -than their noses. And this one, damn her, is like a mule. So far I have -not been able to move her." - -He had finished his breakfast, and with a pungent Havana between his -fingers, was waving his podgy, hairy hands to emphasise his words. - -Kervoisin smiled. "And you want those newspaper articles?" he asked. -"Seriously?" - -"Seriously," Naniescu assented. "My Government has become suspicious. -They are treating me very badly, you know. They began by giving me a -free hand. 'No more plottings and counter-plottings in Transylvania,' -they said to me when they sent me out here. 'It is your business to see -that things work smoothly out there. How you do it is your affair.' -Well," the general went on in an aggrieved tone, "you would construe -that order into a free hand for me, would you not?" - -M. de Kervoisin carefully spread butter on a piece of excellent fresh -roll before he answered: "Yes, I think I should." - -"Of course," Naniescu retorted; "so would anyone. And I was doing very -well, too, until that young fool Imrey managed to send his newspaper -articles over to England. And at once my Government got restive. You -know those articles were pretty hot!" - -"Yes, I know. But I always thought you attached too much importance to -them. _Mon Dieu!_ Confiscations, perquisitions, arrests and even -executions, they are the inevitable consequences of foreign occupation." -And M. de Kervoisin took a little honey with his bread and butter, and -poured himself out another cup of coffee. "And you know," he went on -with a shrug, "the British and American public are really very -indifferent to what goes on out here. Cluj is such a long way from -London or New York. For a time the public is interested, a few are -indignant, one or two make a fuss and ask questions in their Parliament, -but, after all, you are one of the Allies; you must not be too openly -criticised. The man who asks uncomfortable questions in Parliament is -rebuked: _et puis voilà!_" - -"I know all that," Naniescu rejoined with some impatience, "but -unfortunately my Government does not think as you do. Their vanity -suffers when they are attacked in English newspapers, and then they vent -their spleen on me." - -M. de Kervoisin said nothing for a moment or two; then he remarked -blandly: "I think I understand the position--now." - -"There is a talk of my resignation," the general added curtly. - -M. de Kervoisin smiled. "And you don't want to resign?" he asked. - -"Of course not. Five thousand sterling a year: it is a fortune in this -miserable country; and then there are perquisites." - -M. de Kervoisin had finished his breakfast. He pushed his cup and plate -on one side, and resting both his elbows on the table, he looked -intently at his friend, while a sarcastic smile curled round his thin -lips. - -"So," he said, "you imagined this little scheme for putting yourself -right before your Government--and before the world--by getting the -beautiful Uno to write glowing accounts of your marvellous -administration of Transylvania, for the benefit of English and American -readers? Is that it?" - -"Well, wouldn't you?" Naniescu retorted. - -"Yes. But you are not succeeding, my friend," M. de Kervoisin added with -the suspicion of a sneer. "What?" - -"I shall succeed in the end," Naniescu rejoined. "With the help of my -friend----" But at this point he was silenced by a peremptory gesture of -his friend's hand. - -"Sh!" de Kervoisin broke in quickly. "I shouldn't mention his name--not -even here." - -"Oh, we are safe enough." - -"Walls have ears, my friend," the other riposted, "even in this -perfectly administered land. And our friend's work would be futile if -his identity was suspected. I introduced him to you as Number Ten. -Number Ten let him remain." - -"I suppose I can trust him," Naniescu mused. "You assured me that I -could. But, bah!" he added with a contemptuous shrug. "Can one trust -those English?" - -"You can trust this one," Kervoisin retorted curtly. "He was the best -spy we had during the war." - -"During the war--yes! The man might think he was serving the entire -Allied cause by serving you. But now! And here! Frankly, I don't -understand the man's motive. He is rich, well born, and he is playing a -terribly risky game for us, who are nothing to him." - -"He is not running terrible risks for you, my friend, don't you worry," -de Kervoisin retorted with a mocking smile. "Though he may have reasons -which we don't know for hating the Hungarians, he certainly has none for -loving you; and you are one of the Allies, and to a large section of the -British public his work would not be called very heinous, seeing that it -is in your service and directed against ex-enemies. However, let that -pass. I attribute to Number Ten a very different motive for his actions -than the mere desire of serving you." - -"And what is that?" - -"Money, for one thing. He is not as rich as you think, and has -extravagant tastes. But that is not all. I know the English better than -you do, my friend, and I can tell you that Number Ten would just call -his work sport; and for sport, adventure--what?--a certain type of -Englishman will do anything, dare anything, risk everything. A hundred -and fifty years ago they had their Scarlet Pimpernel, who gave the -Revolutionary Government of France a deal of trouble at the time. Now -they have their Number Ten. The same spirit animates this man that -animated the other--one for good, the other, perhaps, for evil. Just the -spirit of adventure. A cycle of years has woven a halo of romance round -the personality of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and to us Number Ten still -appears as sordid, just a miserable paid spy in the service of an alien -Government. But believe me that many Englishmen and even women will -forgive him when they know him for what he is, because they will put it -down to a love of adventure--to sport, which is the only motive the -English appreciate." - -He took his cigarette-case out of his pocket, carefully selected a -cigarette, thrust it between his lips and lighted it. All the while -Naniescu had remained thoughtful. "You may be right," he said finally. -His was not an analytical mind; he was quite content to accept de -Kervoisin's explanation of the mystery that had vaguely puzzled him; -and, anyway, he did not care. Whatever motive animated the mysterious -spy, the man was very useful, and in the matter of Philip Imrey and Anna -Heves and of the obstinate lady journalist he had had one or two -brilliant ideas. - -De Kervoisin smoked on in silence for awhile, then he said: - -"Our friend does not seem to be coming. I hope there has been no hitch." - -"There could be no hitch," Naniescu asserted. "But it is a two hours' -drive to Kis-Imre and two hours back here. Will you wait a moment?" he -went on, and rose to his feet. "I'll see if they've any news downstairs -in the office. I told Number Ten to telephone from Kis-Imre when he got -there." - -Downstairs in the office they had nothing definite to report. No message -had come through from Kis-Imre. But even whilst Naniescu was storming -and fuming, blaming his subordinates, who obviously were not responsible -for the delay, a man wrapped, despite the heat, in a huge stained and -worn military coat, and wearing a soiled képi, crossed the courtyard -from the direction of the entrance gates towards the principal staircase -of the house. Naniescu saw him from the window and ran out into the -hall. He met the man just as he was entering the house, and at once -greeted him with the greatest effusion. - -"Is everything all right?" he asked hurriedly. - -"All right," the man answered curtly. "Of course." - -"Kervoisin is upstairs," Naniescu went on. "Come and tell us all about -it." - -He ran upstairs two at a time; the man in the military coat followed -more slowly. - -"Here is Number Ten," Naniescu announced, as he ushered the man into the -room where Kervoisin was patiently waiting and smoking cigarettes. -Kervoisin rose at once, a word of welcome on his lips. But at sight of -the man he paused and frowned, obviously mystified, until gradually his -face cleared and he exclaimed: - -"_Bon Dieu!_ I should never have known you." - -"I do look a disgusting object, don't I?" the man retorted. He shook -hands cordially with Kervoisin; then he threw off his heavy coat and -sank, obviously exhausted, into a chair. - -"A cup of coffee?" Naniescu suggested. - -"Thanks!" the other replied. - -He drank the coffee, then took a cigarette from the case which de -Kervoisin offered him. He looked a regular vagrant, with face and neck -stained both with grease paint and with grime, his hands were soiled -with motor grease, and his hair hung lank and matted into his eyes. He -had what looked like a two weeks' growth of beard on his chin and upper -lip, and his clothes--if indeed what he wore could be called -clothes--were a mere bundle of rags. - -"Number Ten," de Kervoisin said with conviction, "you are an artist. I -have seen our friend here," he went on, turning to Naniescu, "in any -number of disguises, but never two alike, and every new one a surprise!" - -"You flatter me, sir," Number Ten said with an almost imperceptible -sneer. - -"But I am afraid you must be very tired," de Kervoisin resumed affably. -"I told the general last night that he might just as well have sent one -of his subordinates on this errand." - -"I like to finish my work myself," Number Ten rejoined curtly. - -Whereupon Naniescu threw up his hairy, fat hands and exclaimed in -wonderment: - -"_Ils sont impayables, ces Anglais!_" - -"Then we may take it," de Kervoisin went on, "that the work is -finished?" - -"Yes, finished," Number Ten replied. "We spotted the car on the road -about five kilomètres from Cluj. The patrol summoned the driver to -stop, but the man had obviously had his orders; he swerved sharply to -the right and put on speed to try and rush through. So I shot him." - -"Ah! these English," Naniescu exclaimed complacently; "they are -wonderful!" - -But de Kervoisin only expressed the mildest possible surprise by a very -slight lifting of his eyebrows. - -"Yourself?" was all he said. - -"Yes," the other replied. "The patrol was on the other side of the road, -but I guessed what would happen, so I had brought my horse to a halt -about two hundred metres higher up." - -"And," Naniescu asked blandly, "you killed the chauffeur?" - -"Of course," the other sneered. "I was not likely to miss him, was I?" - -But Naniescu could only smile, and sigh, and murmur: "Oh, those English! -_Voyez-moi ça!_" - -"There were two men in the body of the car," Number Ten continued -coolly, "they were dead drunk. Philip Imrey and the girl were on the -front seats. I gave my horse in charge of the patrol and took the wheel. -We were in Cluj outside the gaol soon after two o'clock. I saw the chief -superintendent and gave the three men and the girl in his charge." - -"Yes! Yes!" Naniescu broke in glibly, and turned to de Kervoisin, "he -had all instructions. Everything was ready. I have seen them since. -Philip Imrey and Anna Heves are in separate cells, and the two drunken -oafs he dispatched by train to Hódmezö. They did not seem to know what -had happened, and it was no use detaining them." - -"None whatever," Number Ten said dryly. "They were just drunken oafs, as -you say. With the miller and his two sons you will have to deal -presently--that is, if your second patrol succeeded in capturing the -sons. I couldn't be in two places at once, and they may have crossed the -frontier. Anyway, that's your affair. Not mine." - -"Of course, of course," Naniescu said airily. And de Kervoisin put in -rather impatiently: - -"What about the car and the dead chauffeur?" - -"I drove both out to Kis-Imre," Number Ten replied deliberately. "The -best way to let people there know what had happened. The general agreed -to it." - -"Was that your brilliant idea?" - -"Mine!" Number Ten replied curtly. - -And suddenly through the paint and the grime a look of almost inhuman -cruelty distorted his face: the thin lips drew back tight above the red -gums, and the sharp teeth gleamed white like those of a wolf. It was the -recollection of a note which Naniescu had scribbled at his dictation, -and which he, Number Ten, had thrust into the hand of the dead chauffeur -for the perusal of an obstinate woman, that brought that wolf-like look -into his face. His eyes almost disappeared beneath the strand of false -eyebrows and the thick layers of paint upon the lids, and his hands -opened out and were clutched again like the talons of a bird of prey. - -For the space of a second or two Number Ten looked hideous. De -Kervoisin, who was watching him, was conscious of an uncomfortable -shudder: Naniescu fortunately was looking another way, and the whole -episode was over in a moment; the next, Number Ten was once more leaning -back in his chair, looking weary, grimy and ill-tempered, but there was -nothing supernatural about him, except perhaps his amazing change from -one personality to another. - -"How did you get back here?" Kervoisin asked after a moment's pause. - -"I have a car which our friend, the general, has placed at my disposal, -with a soldier-driver. I ordered him to follow me to within half a -kilomètre of Kis-Imre." - -"No one stopped you?" - -"No one." - -"I suppose you got to Kis-Imre before anyone was astir?" - -"I won't say that. The ladies at the château were astir." - -"And they saw you?" - -"No. I had reached my own car, and was on the point of driving off when -I saw them coming through the gates of the château." - -"You would not have liked them to have seen you, I imagine," Naniescu -put in with a chuckle. - -"They wouldn't have known me," Number Ten retorted quietly. - -"Heu! heu!" the general rejoined with a shrug. "There are certain eyes -that are reported to be very sharp." - -"Anyway," Number Ten broke in coolly, "no one saw me except an oaf from -the village, so why discuss the point?" - -And strangely enough General Naniescu, usually so dictatorial and so -arrogant, did not seem to resent the gruffness of this man who was in -his pay. On the contrary, he laughed good-humouredly and rested his fat -hand with a gesture of almost affection on the shoulder of the spy. - -"Ah, _ces chers Anglais!_" he sighed fatuously, whilst de Kervoisin -turned quite politely to Number Ten with the bland question: "And what -is your next move, my dear friend?" - -"To get those articles out of the fair Uno," Naniescu interposed -hurriedly before the other had time to reply. "That point must not be -lost sight of." - -"I am not likely to lose sight of it," the other riposted dryly, "seeing -that I am to get ten thousand pounds sterling for them. I suppose you -think they are worth it?" he added, turning with his habitual sneer to -Naniescu. - -"I think," the general replied slowly, "that with the arrest of Philip -Imrey and Anna Heves, which, when it becomes known, will deter other -young fools from playing the same game--with that, I say, as a -make-weight, I think the articles will be worth the money--to my -Government and to me." - -"Well," Number Ten rejoined coolly, "I shouldn't have done your dirty -work for less." - -And Naniescu once more gave a fatuous sigh and murmured: - -"_Ils sont impayables ces Anglais!_" whilst de Kervoisin smiled as a -philosopher smiles on follies and stupidities with which he has no -concern. Then he asked Number Ten: "And when do you return to -civilisation, my friend--to decent clothes and a bath?" - -"At once," the other replied, "unless I am wanted for something else." - -"No, no, my dear man," the general rejoined, with perfect affability. "I -am quite content to leave everything in your hands." - -"And when do you want those articles?" - -"Shall we say within the week?" - -"You shall have them," Number Ten said coolly as he rose from his chair. -He nodded to Kervoisin, who responded cordially: "_A bientôt, mon -ami!_" Then he turned to go; but already Naniescu was on his feet. - -"I'll escort you," he said hospitably, "in case you meet anyone on the -stairs. In your present get-up," he added with his oily, guttural laugh, -"it might be awkward." - -"Thank you," the other assented coolly, and, gathering up the dirty old -military coat, he strode to the door. Naniescu was already there, -holding it open for him. - -"You will stay and have lunch with M. de Kervoisin and me, I hope," he -said. - -"I think not, thank you," the other replied. - -"Ah! You are going to Hódmezö, perhaps--or to Kis-Imre?" - -And Number Ten replied, with his habitual curtness: - -"That is my affair." - -De Kervoisin, who still sat smoking, chuckled at this. A scene such as -this was part of a philosopher's enjoyment. Naniescu threw him a look, -and shrugged his shoulders. De Kervoisin could almost hear him -reiterating his stock phrase: "_Ils sont impayables, ces Anglais!_" - -After that the two men went out of the room and de Kervoisin remained, -sitting and smoking, with a thin smile on his colourless lips--the smile -of a philosopher who sees the humour of a situation which to a less keen -mind would only appear obscure and topsy-turvy, and after a while he -murmured softly to himself: - -"They certainly are remarkable, these English!" - -Memory had brought back to his mind that cruel, wolf-like look which for -one unguarded moment had distorted the features of the spy. There was, -then, some motive other than greed or love of sport, that had pushed the -Englishman into doing this dirty work. Hatred? Love? Perhaps. Passion? -Certainly. - -"I wonder now!" mused M. de Kervoisin. - -And being a Frenchman as well as a philosopher he was deeply interested -in this new problem. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - - -But Rosemary was not gifted with second sight, and she saw nothing of -this while she knelt at the open window of her pretty room at Kis-Imre. -She was in such an agony of mind, that for a time she became almost -insentient. Presently, dressed as she was, she threw herself upon the -bed, because she was dog-tired and had no longer the power to feel or to -suffer. Even the well of her sympathy appeared to be dry. She could not -bring herself to think of Elza or of Maurus, or to feel for them; even -Philip and Anna seemed blotted from her mind. An intense self-pity -absorbed every other sensation for the moment. She felt herself in such -a hopeless impasse that she had not even the strength to beat her hands -against the walls that had so completely closed her in. - -And so she lay there for an hour and more while life in the château -went on, unheeded by her. Long afterwards she heard that, as arranged, -the guests all departed soon after nine o'clock, that Elza had been -there to see them off, looking after their comforts, bidding them -good-bye and tendering hospitable, little invitations for the future. -Wonderful as always! Rosemary saw nothing of that. She only heard of it -afterwards, when she saw Elza again an hour or two later. For the time -being she was just a log--neither thinking nor feeling; conscious only -of that intense self-pity which was so humiliating, because her senses -were so numb that she had not the power to trace that self-pity to its -source. While she lay on her bed, blind, deaf, dumb, she did not know -that she suffered; she did not know that she lived. - -But this state of coma was the one concession to weakness. A giving in. -It was not the least like Rosemary; and as consciousness slowly returned -and with it the power to feel, she felt humiliated on account of that -weakness which was foreign to her. Fortunately no one had witnessed it. -Dear, wonderful Elza had had her hands full, and the departing guests -had only thought of being discreet and tactful and of leaving this -stricken home without putting too great a strain upon the self-control -of their hostess. They did not know, of course, that tragedy had -followed on the exciting events of last night; but they asked no -questions, well knowing that good news spreads like wildfire, and -guessing perhaps by Elza's set face and expressionless eyes that -something was not altogether right. - -Anyhow, they went away, and after their departure the house became -still--very still. Presently Rosemary had her bath and dressed, then -left the room to go and search for Elza. So far she had not been able to -gather anything from Rosa's stolid, round face. The girl went about her -work as if nothing special had happened; only when Rosemary was ready to -go downstairs and gave Rosa a final nod, the girl suddenly said with an -excited little gasp: "The gracious Count Philip and the Baroness Anna -will be in Hungary by now, won't they, gracious lady?" - -Rosemary nodded. "We hope so," she murmured. - -She waited in the hall for a little while, hoping that Elza would -presently be coming downstairs; but a quarter of an hour later Anton -came running down and made straight for the telephone. - -"What is it, Anton?" Rosemary asked. - -"The gracious count," the man replied hurriedly. "He is ill. I am -telephoning to Cluj for the doctor." - -"What is it, do you know?" - -"No, gracious lady, the countess did not say, but I think it is the -heart. The gracious count has fainted, and----" - -After that Anton was busy with the telephone, and Rosemary wandered -aimlessly into the drawing-room and out upon the veranda. - -Maurus ill! Yet another calamity striking that unfortunate woman! -Indeed, there was no room for self-pity in this house. Every feeling of -love, of sympathy and of pity must be concentrated on Elza. She stood -alone, just as Rosemary stood alone. Two women, each with their burden. -Elza with a load of boundless sorrow and anxiety, and Rosemary with a -terrible responsibility to face. Elza was helpless; she could only watch -and pray. But Rosemary had the choice between waiting and acting. -Sentiment on the one side; Philip, Anna, Elza, Maurus, people she knew -and loved; and duty on the other, duty to others, to countless of -unknown innocents, to mothers, to fathers, to wives. "What are they to -me?" cried sentiment. "The few for the many," was the command of duty. -Heart and brain in direct conflict and no one to advise, no one to help, -save God, and He was silent! The affairs of men are so futile in face of -the Infinite. - -Later on in the day the doctor came over in his motor from Cluj, and -after his visit Elza escorted him down into the hall. This was the first -glimpse that Rosemary had of her since the morning, and the sight of her -was a terrible shock; Elza was aged, her hair had lost its lustre, her -eyes their colour, her cheeks were the colour of lead, and even her -magnificent figure had shrunk. Elza looked an old woman, wide-eyed and -scared as if Fate was a tangible being standing perpetually before her -with flail upraised, striking, striking incessantly, until the poor, -weak shoulders bent under the blows, and the last vestige of youth fled, -chased away by pain. - -As soon as the doctor had gone Elza came back to Rosemary. - -"Poor Maurus," she said. "Have you heard?" "What is the matter?" -Rosemary asked. - -Elza hesitated a moment, then she said: - -"As a matter of fact, it was a fit. He had had them before, and you know -he was always peculiar. And now the shock! The doctor says we shall have -to be very careful with him. He must be watched and kept very quiet." - -"Had you told him?" - -"Yes; it is that which brought on the fit. The doctor asked me if he had -been more than usually agitated the last day or two." - -"But he is in no danger?" Rosemary insisted. - -"The doctor says not. But then he does not know. If--if the worst -happens with--Philip, I don't think that Maurus will live it through." - -Elza had allowed Rosemary to lead her into the drawing-room. She sank -down against the cushions and Rosemary knelt beside her, with her arms -round the poor woman's shoulders. - -"Darling," she murmured, "is there anything I can do?" - -"No, dear, nothing. What can you do? We are only atoms. So helpless! We -can only suffer. I suppose that God wants some of us to suffer, and -others to be happy. It seems strange and unjust, but we can't help it. -We must just get through with it." Elza spoke jerkily, in a dry, cracked -voice, without the slightest ring or modulation in its dull monotony. - -"Am I in the way, Elza, darling?" Rosemary went on, trying with loving -eyes to probe the secret thoughts that lay hidden behind that set, -expressionless face. Elza turned large, round eyes upon her, and for an -instant a gleam of tenderness shot through them. - -"You are not in the way, darling," she said. "I don't know what I should -have done this morning if you had not been there to brace me up. But it -is miserable and dull for you here. Fancy you coming all the way from -England into this house of misery." - -"If you sent me away now," Rosemary said, "I should break my heart with -longing to be near you. But--I didn't know whether you would not rather -be alone----" - -"Alone? I should indeed be alone if you went away. Now that the children -are not here . . . and Maurus must be kept very quiet--I should be very -lonely if you went." - -Rosemary gave her hand a little squeeze. - -"But Jasper will be coming soon," she said. "I am sure you won't want -him." - -"Lord Tarkington is so kind," Elza replied gently, "and he would be -company for you. The doctor is sending me a couple of nursing sisters -from Cluj, but you know what Maurus is. He gets so impatient if I am not -there. So we shall not see much of one another. But it would be a -comfort to me to know that you are in the house." - -"You are an angel, Elza, and I am glad that you axe not sending me away. -If you did I should not go very far. Probably to Cluj. I could not exist -far away from you whilst I had a glimmer of hope. In my heart, darling," -Rosemary went on earnestly, "I am still convinced that God will not -permit this monstrous injustice. Something will happen. You will see. -You will see." - -"It would have to be a miracle, my dear," Elza said dully. - -"God has accomplished greater miracles before this," Rosemary retorted -firmly. - -Elza smiled. She, poor dear, obviously did not believe in miracles. - -After a moment or two she said: - -"By the way, I quite forgot to tell you--so stupid of me--this morning, -while you were resting there came a telephone message for you from Lord -Tarkington." - -"From Jasper?" - -"He said he was coming some time in the afternoon." - -"Where was he speaking from?" - -"I am not quite sure, and, stupidly enough, I did not ask. When I -understood that it was Lord Tarkington speaking I asked if I should send -the carriage to meet him at Cluj. But all I heard in reply was: 'No, -no,' and then we were cut off. These telephone people are so tiresome, -they cut one off sometimes in the middle of a conversation. I am so -glad, darling," Elza continued gently, "that Lord Tarkington is coming -back. For your sake," she added, "and also mine." - -After that she rose and gave Rosemary a final kiss. - -"I have one or two little things to see to before lunch," she said, "but -I understood from Lord Tarkington that he would not be over before the -afternoon." - -And she went off with her bunch of keys jingling in her hand, outwardly -quite serene, and presently Rosemary could hear her calling to the -servants, giving orders, scolding for something left undone. She was -still wonderful, even though the elasticity had gone out of her step; -and her back was bent like an old woman's, her voice had lost its -metallic ring, and all the glorious colour had gone out of her hair. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVIII - - -Jasper arrived in the late afternoon, unheeded and unannounced. Elza and -Rosemary were in the garden at the time, and he was in the house for -over a quarter of an hour before they heard that he had come. Then she -and Elza hurried to greet him. He was in the drawing-room waiting -patiently. Rosemary thought him looking tired or perhaps travel-stained. - -He kissed Elza's hand first, then his wife's, no more. But Rosemary knew -her Jasper. He could not have kissed her in front of anyone, and Elza -for once did not seem surprised at the cold, formal greeting between -husband and wife. She asked a few questions: "Will you have something to -eat, dear Lord Tarkington?" and "How did you come?" - -Jasper gave the required explanations. - -He had jumped out of the train at Apahida, which is the next station -before Cluj, to get a drink, and whom should he see in the station -restaurant but General Naniescu, who had driven out in his motor on some -business or other. Hearing that Jasper was on his way to Kis-Imre, he -offered to drive him over. It was a kind offer as Jasper was sick of the -train journey. He had only hand-luggage with him, and this he -transferred, together with himself, to Naniescu's motor. And here he -was--very glad to be back. - -Elza asked him what had become of the luggage, and where the motor was. - -Jasper explained that he had put the motor and the chauffeur up at the -inn. General Naniescu had only driven in as far as Cluj, and after that -had graciously put the motor and chauffeur at his, Tarkington's, -disposal, not only for the day but for as long as he and Rosemary would -care to use it. The chauffeur was bringing the luggage over presently -and would give it to Anton. - -"The car might be very useful," Jasper went on, turning to his wife, "so -I accepted the offer gladly. I thought it kind of old Naniescu." - -Of course, he knew nothing of what had occurred, but even so his mention -of Naniescu's name hurt Rosemary. She had already read failure in her -husband's eyes--complete failure, and all of a sudden she realized how -much hope she had built on this mission of Jasper's, and how it had -dwelt at the back of her mind whenever she tried to comfort Elza. Now -there was nothing left to hope for, nothing to believe in. Even faith -appeared shipwrecked in this new tidal-wave of despair. - -Rosemary had always found it difficult to extricate herself from -Jasper's arms once he held her tight, and this he did a few moment's -later when at Elza's suggestion that Rosemary should see him up to his -room, he found himself alone with her. He took her breath away with the -suddenness, the almost savage strength of his embrace. - -"Jasper!" she murmured once or twice. "Jasper! Please!" - -"I was so hungry for you, my Rosemary," he said. "Ten days--my God, ten -days without your kiss!" - -He looked her straight between the eyes and whispered huskily: - -"I've been in hell, little one." - -Rosemary tried to smile: "But why, my dear? We can't expect to be -always, always together, every day for the rest of our natural lives." - -"I don't know what you expect from life, little one, but I do know that -if you send me away from you again, I should not come out of that hell -again alive." - -"But I did not send you away, Jasper," she argued, a little impatient -with him because of his wild talk. "Your going to Bucharest was entirely -your own idea." - -"And I have lamentably failed," he muttered with a shrug. - -She gave a little gasp that sounded like a sob. - -"There was nothing to be done?" she asked. - -"Nothing." - -"The King?" - -"Indifferent. He trusts Naniescu, has confidence in his judgment, and -believes in his patriotism and sense of justice." - -"Then there is absolutely nothing to be done," she reiterated slowly in -a dull dream-voice. - -She was keying herself up to tell him all that had happened in the past -four-and-twenty hours. But she was so tired, almost on the verge of -breaking down. She did not think that she would have the strength to go -through with the long tale of hope and despair. But Jasper made her sit -down on the sofa and arranged a couple of cushions round her head. Then -he sat down on a low chair beside her. - -"Now tell me, little one," he said quietly. - -"Why, Jasper," she exclaimed, "how did you guess that there was anything -to tell?" - -"Don't I know every line of your adorable face?" he retorted, "every -flicker almost of your eyelid. Before I touched your hand I knew that -something was amiss. After that I was sure." - -"Dear," she murmured, and nestled her hand in his. Wasn't Jasper -wonderful too? With his marvellous understanding and that utterly -selfless love for her, who, alas! gave so little in return. He bent his -head and pressed his lips upon her wrist. - -"You guessed right," she said. "Something is very much amiss." - -Then she told him everything. He listened to the whole tale without a -comment, and even after she had finished speaking he sat in silence with -her hand held between his own, only bending his head now and again in -order to kiss her wrist. - -"There's nothing to be done!" she reiterated again, with a pitiable -little catch in her voice. - -And after awhile he said quite quietly and deliberately: - -"The only thing to be done, my dear, is to comply with Naniescu's wish." - -But against this she at once exclaimed, hot with indignation, and he -went on with a sigh: "I know, I know. You are such a sweet, enthusiastic -creature, and you have embraced the cause of these good people -whole-heartedly, injudiciously. I don't want to influence you, of -course----" - -"You promised me that you would not," she retorted. - -"I know! I know! You would not be the adorable creature that you are if -you were not unreasonable sometimes. But--I put it to you--what harm -would you do in writing the articles that Naniescu wants?" - -This question roused Rosemary's indignation once more. - -"How can you ask?" she queried. "To begin with I should alienate from -these wretched people over here all the sympathy which Philip Imrey's -articles have aroused for them abroad. Never again after that could any -friend raise a voice on their behalf. Naniescu or his kind would have a -free hand. He knows that well enough. Not only he, but all the waverers, -all the selfish and the indifferent could in future point to the _Times_ -and say: 'Hardship! Nonsense! Why, here was an independent lady -journalist--and a woman at that--with every opportunity for getting at -the truth, and she writes at full length to tell the entire world that -the administration in Transylvania is a model of equity and -benevolence.' And mothers like Elza would cry in vain because their sons -had been torn from them, families would be sent into exile, fathers, -brothers murdered, oppression, confiscation, outrage would go -unpunished, all because one woman had been too great a coward to smother -sentiment under the mantle of justice." - -Jasper had not uttered a word, hardly made a sign, while Rosemary spoke -her impassioned tirade. Only from time to time his dark eyes flashed -with a glance of admiration on his beautiful wife, who, with flaming -cheeks and slightly dishevelled hair, looked perhaps more desirable in -her indignation than she had ever done in repose. - -When she paused for want of breath he slowly shook his head. - -"And do you really think, my darling," he said softly, "that you can -permanently influence English and American opinion by a few newspaper -articles, even if these are written by a well-known person like -yourself? Dear heart, in order to do that you would have to go at your -subject hammer and tongs, never allow one article to be forgotten before -you write another; you must be at your subject all the time if you want -to create an impression--hammer away at the newspaper-reading public -until its stupid wooden head is saturated with the stuff you give it. -Naniescu thinks a great deal of these articles which he wants you to -write. Well, in my opinion their effect would last just one week after -the last of them has appeared. After that some philanthropist or other -will have his say on the maladministration of Transylvania, and you are -not bound to refute that again, are you? But in the meanwhile Philip and -Anna will be comfortably out of the country, and even Elza and Maurus -will have settled down somewhere in Hungary to await better times; you -will have saved the lives of two young things whom you love, and spared -these good people here a terrible sorrow." - -While Jasper spoke Rosemary could not do anything but stare at him. His -sophistry amazed her. That there was a modicum of common sense in his -argument was not to be gainsaid, but that the suggestion of such -bargaining with truth and honour should come from Jasper, her husband, -horrified Rosemary and revolted her. And men often accused women of a -feeble sense of honour! From the first Rosemary had turned away from -Naniescu's proposal as from something unclean. She had never dwelt on -it, not for a moment. Even this morning, when first she felt herself -sinking into an abyss of despair, she had not dwelt on that. But Jasper -had not only dwelt on it; he had weighed its possibilities, the "for" -and "against" which, with unanswerable logic and not a little sarcasm, -he had just put before her. And even now, when she could not keep the -look of horror out of her eyes, he only smiled, quite kindly and -indulgently, as if she were just an obstinate child who had to be coaxed -into reason; and when indignation kept her dumb he patted her hand and -said gently: - -"You will think over it, I am sure!" Then he rose and started pacing up -and down the room, as was his custom when he was irritated or worried, -with his head thrust forward and his hands clasped behind his back. - -"You will think over it," he murmured again. - -"Never!" she retorted hotly. - -"You have another fifteen days before you." - -"Never!" she reiterated firmly. - -He looked at her for a moment or two with an indefinable smile on his -lean, dark face, then he shrugged his shoulders. - -"How much longer can you stand the mother's tears," he asked, "and the -father's despair?" - -"Elza, if she knew," Rosemary rejoined, with an obstinate toss of her -head, "would be the first to wish me to stand firm." - -"Try her!" Jasper retorted laconically. Then as Rosemary, reproachful, -indignant, made no attempt to reply, he went on with harsh insistence: -"Have you tried her? Does she know that the life of her son is entirely -and absolutely in your hands?" - -Rosemary shook her head. - -"No!" she murmured. - -Jasper gave a harsh laugh. "Then," he said, "I can only repeat what I -said just now. Go and tell Elza everything, then see if her arguments -will be different from mine!" - -"Jasper!" Rosemary exclaimed, flushed with bitterness and resentment. - -He paused in his restless walk, looked at her for a moment or two, and -then resumed his seat beside her. For an instant it seemed as if he -wanted to take her hand, or put his arms round her, but whether she -divined this wish or no, certain it is that she made a slight movement, -a drawing back away from him. A curious flash, like a veritable volcano -of hidden fires, shot through the man's deep, dark eyes, and, as if to -control his own movements, he clasped his hands tightly together between -his knees. Strangely enough, when he next spoke his voice was full of -tenderness and almost of humility. - -"I am sorry, dear," he said gently, "if I hurt you. God knows that I -would rather be broken to pieces on a rack than to do that. But things -have come to a pass," he went on more harshly, "where my duty--and my -right--as your natural friend and protector command me to get you out of -this impasse before all this damnable business has affected your health, -or, God help us! clouded your brain." - -"The impasse, as you very justly call it, Jasper," she riposted, "will -not cloud my brain, so long as you do not seek to make right seem wrong -and wrong right." - -Then suddenly he dropped on one knee close beside her; before she could -prevent him his two hands had closed upon hers, and he looked up into -her face with a glance full of love and entreaty, whilst every tone of -harshness went out of his voice. - -"But child, child," he urged, "don't you see, can't you understand, that -it is you who make right seem wrong? What good are you doing, what good -will you do, by letting those two wretched young idiots suffer the -extreme penalty for their folly? Will you ever afterwards know one -moment's peace? Won't you for ever be haunted by the ghosts of those -whom you could so easily have saved? Won't your ears ring for ever with -the whole-hearted curses of these wretched people, who will look upon -you as the murderer of their son? And, honestly, my dear, your articles -in the _Times_ won't do more than flatter the vanity of Naniescu. Those -people in England and America who have really studied the question won't -think any the better of Roumanian rule or misrule in Transylvania -because a lady journalist--eminent, I grant you--chooses to tell them -that everything is for the best in the best possible occupied world. -Think of all those articles in the _Times_ on the subject of the French -occupation in the Ruhr and their misrule in the Palatinate--did it -prevent the very readers of that same paper from joining the League of -the Friends of France and proclaiming at the top of their voices their -belief in the unselfish aims of M. Poincaré? You attach too much -importance to the Press, my dearest. Roumania and Transylvania are very, -very far away from Clapham and Ealing. People don't trouble their heads -much what goes on there. A few do, but they are the ones who will stick -to their opinions whatever you may say." - -Unable to free them, Rosemary had yielded her hands passively to -Jasper's clasp. She lay back with her head resting upon the cushions, -her eyes obstinately evading his glance and fixed upon the ceiling, as -if vainly seeking up there for some hidden writing that in a few terse -words would tell her what to do. Jasper thus holding her captive by her -hands made her feel like an imprisoned soul bruising itself against the -bars of an unseen cage. She felt fettered, compelled, unable to see, to -visualise that rigid code of honour which had ruled her actions until -now. Jasper had talked at great length; she had never heard him talk so -long and so earnestly and with such unanswerable logic. And Rosemary, -who up to this hour had seen her line of action before her, -crystal-clear, was suddenly assailed with doubts, more torturing than -any mental agony which she had suffered before. Doubt--awful, hideous, -torturing doubt. How could she fight that sinister monster "compromise" -if the one man whom she could trust tilted on its side? She had never -dreamed of such a possibility. And now, suddenly, Jasper had made such a -thing possible--worse, imperative! - -Rosemary felt her eyes filling with tears. She was so tired and could -not argue. She dreaded argument lest she should give in. It was all so -utterly, utterly hopeless. Jasper was out of sympathy with her, and -Peter--Peter---- - -She must unconsciously have murmured the name, for all of a sudden -Jasper jumped to his feet with a loud curse. - -"If you mention that devil's name----" he began. - -Then once more he started on his restless pacing, with lips firmly set -almost as if he were afraid that words would come tumbling out of them -against his will. - -"Jasper!" Rosemary exclaimed, "why do you hate Peter so?" - -"Hate him?" Jasper retorted harshly. "Does one hate a snake--or a worm?" - -"That is unjust," she riposted, "and untrue. You forced a promise from -me not to confide in Peter. But I wish to God I had spoken to him, asked -for his help. Peter half belongs to these people; he would have helped -us if he had known." - -But Jasper only threw his head back and broke into a harsh, sardonic -laugh: - -"Peter?" he exclaimed. "Peter Blakeney help you? Heavens above! Don't -you know, child," he went on, and once more came and sat down beside -her, "that Peter Blakeney is nothing but a paid spy of the Roumanian -Government? I warned you; I told you. You remember that day, when you -did not even know that he was in Transylvania, he was in Cluj in touch -with Naniescu. I warned you then as much as I dared. I could not say -much because--because----" He paused, perhaps because he had felt -Rosemary's eyes fixed upon him with a curious, challenging look. A -second or two later he went on coldly: "And the denunciation of Anna and -Philip? How did it come about? Who knew of their folly except you and -Peter Blakeney? And what about last night? I warned you not to confide -in Peter, not to speak with him of the whole thing while I was away. Are -you quite sure, quite, quite sure that Peter knew nothing of the plan? -Are you quite sure that he----" - -"Jasper! Stop!" Rosemary cried; and with a great effort she pushed -Jasper away from her and rose to her feet. She wanted above all to get -away from him. She would not listen. She would not hear, -because--because every word that Jasper spoke was a dart that hit -straight at her heart, and every dart was marked with the word "Truth." -All that Jasper said she had heard whispered about her by unseen demons -who had tortured her for days with these horrible suspicions. She had -rejected them, fought against them with all her might; but no sooner had -she silenced one tempter than another took his place and whispered, -whispered awful words that, strung together, became a fearful, an -irrefutable indictment against Peter. But this, she would not admit; not -now, not before anyone, not even before Jasper. - -"I won't believe it," she said firmly. "I have known Peter all my life, -and what you suggest is monstrous. There have been strange coincidences, -I admit, but----" - -"Strange," Jasper broke in with a sneer. "You are right there, little -one. It is a strange coincidence, shall we say, that has made Peter -Blakeney the new owner of this house." - -"Whatever do you mean?" - -"That Peter Blakeney has bought an option on the château and property -of Kis-Imre from the Romanian Government." - -Rosemary frowned in bewilderment. - -"Jasper," she said, "will you please tell me clearly what you do mean?" - -"I have told you, dear heart, as clearly as I could. But perhaps you -have not realised that if Philip and Anna are brought before a military -tribunal and convicted of treason against the States, these estates, -together with the château, will be confiscated. It will then be sold -for the benefit of the State and the owners will be expelled from the -country." - -Rosemary felt herself shuddering. "No," she said slowly; "I had not -realised that." - -"I am afraid that it is so. And in the meanwhile, some who are in the -know have already cast covetous eyes on this admirable château and -beautiful park and garden, and our friend Naniescu has hit on the happy -idea of selling the option of them to the highest bidder. And it seems -that Peter Blakeney was the lucky man. He has paid a few hundred -thousand leis for a first option on Kis-Imre and its dependencies, -should it come in the market after the conviction and presumably the -death of his cousins for treason against the State." - -"Who told you all that?" Rosemary queried coldly. - -"Our friend Naniescu." - -"And you believed it?" - -"I could not help believing; Naniescu showed me the contract for the -option. It was signed 'Peter Blakeney.'" - -"If Peter has done that," Rosemary went on slowly, "it is because he -wants to secure the place ultimately for Elza." - -Jasper smiled tenderly. "You are a loyal friend, sweetheart," he said. - -"The accusation is so monstrous," Rosemary retorted, "it defeats its own -ends." - -"I wish I could think so," he rejoined with a sigh. "Unfortunately, ever -since Peter's arrival in Cluj I have seen nothing but one calamity after -another fall upon these wretched people here. I only wish I had your -belief in coincidences. I only wish I could explain satisfactorily to -myself how those two children, how Elza, Maurus, all of us, have come to -this terrible pass, at the end of which there is nothing but chaos. But -there," he went on with his usual gentleness and patience, "I won't -worry you any longer. I have said my say. I have put my case before you. -Perhaps I look at it too much from a selfish point of view. I am -heart-broken to see you so wretched, and feel like hitting out right and -left to set you free from this awful impasse. So now, sweetheart, try -and forgive me, and think over it all from my point of view a little. -These people here are nothing to me, you are everything. All the world -and more. Even Heaven would be nothing to me without you, and this place -is a hell when you are not here." - -Rosemary was standing close by the open window. The sky was grey. Great -banks of cloud rose and tumbled about the mountain tops. The pine trees -on the hill-side appeared like ghostly sentinels standing at attention -in the mist. The heat was oppressive. From far away came the dull rumble -of distant thunder. The tuberoses beneath the window sent a heady, -intoxicating scent through the storm-laden air. Rosemary felt terribly -wearied, and for the first time in her life discouraged. She had striven -for right, smothered every sentiment for the sake of abstract justice, -and in the end right was proclaimed to be wrong, at best a fantasy born -of her own vanity. Was Jasper right, after all? He had rather a way of -being always right. Anyway, he was English and practical; sentiment had -no part in his organization. Even his love, deep as it was, was not -sentiment. Rosemary had found this out before now. It was not -sentiment--it was elemental passion. But his views of life were built -neither on sentiment nor passion. He looked at things straight, as -Englishmen of a certain type do, who despise sentiment and whose -unanswerable argument is: "Well, it is the right thing to do." - -But, heavens above! what was the right thing now? Rosemary felt sick and -faint; the heat and the scent of the tuberoses made her head ache and -her eyes smart. Jasper was saying something, but she hardly heard him, -and she hardly felt his nearness when he took her hand and pressed it -against his lips. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIX - - -But a moment or two later a curious thing happened. - -Jasper had gone out of the room, and Rosemary, leaning against the -window frame, was looking out into the approaching storm. She had not -heard what Jasper had said just before he kissed her hand; but her mind -must have registered it, must have made a kind of record of it, like -that of a gramophone, because now some of his words came back to her -quite distinctly through the rumblings of distant thunder. She had not -heard him then, but she heard him now quite distinctly--every word. - -"I have jotted down a few ideas. You, of course, will put them into your -own picturesque language. Just a few notes of what Naniescu would like -to see in the _Times._ I thought it would save you the trouble to think. -I don't think that you will find anything glaringly impossible in my -suggestions." - -Then he had put something down on the table. Memory had registered a -kind of swishing sound. And Rosemary, now turning slowly away from the -window, caught sight of that something on the table. Half a dozen loose -sheets of paper covered with Jasper's clear, minute handwriting. Like a -sleepwalker Rosemary went to the table and picked up the sheets. The -shades of evening were drawing in, and the heavy grey clouds in the sky -blotted out the remaining rags of daylight. With the papers in her hand -Rosemary went out on the balcony. She had the feeling that while she -read she must have the pure, storm-laden air about her. She had not -turned away from these notes of Jasper's in horror. She had not closed -her ears to the record of his words. She knew quite well what was -written on these sheets of paper, and deliberately she sat down and -began to read. - -The political and economic situation of Transylvania was stated in these -brief notes with remarkable lucidity. Jasper's clear, unemotional -outlook on the administration of the conquered country was set forth -without any imagery or attempt at style. Even the obvious bias in favour -of the ruling Government was tempered by sound logic and a certain -measure of indulgent toleration for the other side. Rosemary read the -notes through twice very carefully. She could hear Jasper's voice in -every sentence, feel his presence while she read. Long after she had -finished reading she sat there quite still, with the sheets of paper -lying on her lap and her hands folded over them. She marvelled whether -she was quite sane. Jasper had said at one moment that this terrible -impasse might overcloud her brain. Well, perhaps it had done that -already, and she could no longer distinguish right from wrong through -the clouds. - -Evening closed in about her. The garden down below became a blur, -through which white, starry flowers blinked up at her, and with their -placidity mocked the turmoil which was rending her soul. The -thunder-clouds were drawing nearer; they hung like lead over the -mountains. The pine trees like dark sentinels shivered at times under a -sudden gust of wind, and from time to time a pale reflex of distant -lightning lit the sky above the valley. - -Rosa came presently into the room and turned on the lights; she inquired -anxiously whether the gracious lady would not come in, as it was raining -already and the storm would be breaking very soon. Then only did -Rosemary become conscious that her hair and her dress were wet. Heavy -drops, the size of a shilling, were falling, but she had not noticed -them before. - -She came in and quite mechanically she locked the papers up in her -dressing-case. She asked Rosa what the time was, and whether dinner -would be at the usual time. Yes, dinner would be at eight o'clock as -usual, and it was now past seven. Rosa asked if the gracious lady would -like to change her dress. - -The rest of the evening was like a dream. Elza presided at dinner and -she and Jasper did most of the talking--that is to say, Elza asked -innumerable questions to which Jasper gave long replies, with forced -cheerfulness. Maurus, it seemed, was better. The doctor was coming again -the last thing at night, but the patient was much calmer, had taken some -nourishment in the way of milk, and had slept for an hour. Elza, -self-possessed, wonderful as usual, lingered over dessert. She poured -out coffee, offered liqueur and cigarettes. For her, hospitality and its -duties were a religion; she would as soon have neglected them as a -devout Catholic would have neglected confession. The very fact that they -cost her an effort made them all the more imperative and in a way -comforting. - -At ten o'clock Rosemary found herself once more alone in her room. -Jasper had kissed her tenderly when he bade her good night. Only when -she did find herself alone did Rosemary realize how much she had dreaded -this good night. She knew that she had no reserve of strength left to -stand one of Jasper's savage outbursts of passion; to-night of all -nights she would have gone down under it like the tuberoses below her -window under the lashing of the storm. - -The rain beat against the window-panes, terrific crashes of thunder -followed one another in close succession, and every few minutes the sky -seemed rent right through with blinding flashes of lightning. The heat -was nearly intolerable through this almost tropical storm. Rosemary had -dismissed Rosa. She undid her hair, which clung damp against her -forehead and the back of her neck, and clad only in chemise and -petticoat, with bare arms and neck, and bare feet thrust into slippers, -she sat down at the table with Jasper's notes before her, and read them -through once more. - -After that she searched through the chest of drawers for a bundle of -manuscript paper, and taking up her fountain-pen she began to write. She -had Jasper's notes in front of her, and she put them, as he had -suggested, into her well-known, picturesque language. She enlarged upon -them, amplified them, always keeping his suggestions as a background for -her own statements. - -For hours she sat there writing. It was the longest spell of -uninterrupted work that she had ever accomplished, but she was not even -conscious of fatigue. The storm raged for a while longer, but she did -not hear it. Only the heat worried her, and from time to time she mopped -her forehead and the back of her neck with her handkerchief. - -The storm passed by, and the air became very still as slowly the dawn -chased away the night. The waning moon peeped through the clouds, only -to melt away in the translucent ether; one by one the birds awoke, shook -their wet feathers and called to their mates. But not until she had -written the last line did Rosemary rise from the table. Then she put her -papers together, put a clip through them, arranged Jasper's notes -separately, and locked up both sets in her dressing-case. - -After that she put on a wrap and threw open the window. The clock in her -room struck five. She had been writing for six hours! The task was done. -There it stood ready, and Elza should decide. In this Jasper had been -quite right--wasn't he always right? It was for Elza to decide. Her -son's life on the one hand, her people's welfare on the other. It was -for her to decide. Philip was her son, the oppressed people of -Transylvania her kindred. Jasper was quite right. Let Elza decide. - -And after Rosemary had saturated her lungs with the pure air of the -morning, she went to bed and slept soundly, heavily, until Rosa came -into her room later on with her breakfast. - -And when, presently, Jasper came in, Rosemary was able to greet him with -a smile which was not altogether forced. She was able to return his -kiss, and after awhile to tell him what she had done. - -"The articles are written," she said, "and ready for publication. I have -even written a covering letter and addressed the envelope to the editor -of the _Times_, asking him kindly to arrange for their publication at -the earliest possible date. But before I put the articles in the post, I -shall give them to Elza to read. She shall decide if they are to go. You -were quite right, dear," she added, and looked Jasper quite frankly, -unwaveringly, in the eyes. "It is a matter for Elza to decide." - - - - -CHAPTER XXX - - -Rosemary found herself alone with Elza in the early part of the -afternoon. The doctor had been over in the morning to see Maurus, and on -the whole the bulletin was satisfactory: "The patient was doing well. If -he was kept very quiet there would be no complications. He was no age, -and on the whole had led an abstemious life. The most important thing -was to keep all worry, all agitation from him, both now and in the -future." - -Both now and in the future! Elza dwelt on those words when she told -Rosemary just what the doctor had said. - -"The future!" she murmured with a weary little sigh. "Of course, the -doctor does not know. Perhaps I ought to tell him what the future holds -in store for poor Maurus." - -The nursing sisters had arrived overnight. Rosemary had caught sight of -them about the house during the course of the morning, with their -white-winged caps that made them look like doves with outspread wings. -Their felt shoes made not the slightest noise as they walked. They were -very sweet and very restful, entirely incompetent but exceedingly kind, -and full of gentle pity and kind advice to the patient, who became -terribly irritable as soon as they ministered to him. - -After lunch Rosemary persuaded Elza to come out with her into the -garden. It was the first bright moment in the day. Neither morning nor -early afternoon had kept the promise made by the dawn. Storm clouds -hung, heavy and leaden, over the mountains, and dull rumblings -proclaimed the return of thunder. But about three o'clock there was a -break in the clouds, and a pale sun shot fitful gleams of silvery light -upon park and garden. It was oppressively hot. Rosemary led Elza to the -summer-house and made her sit down. Elza was fidgety. It almost seemed -as if she did not want to be left alone with Rosemary. She made one -excuse after another: Maurus! the chef! the stables! But Rosemary -insisted. - -"Listen to me, Elza, darling," she said firmly. "I want your full -attention for two minutes." - -Elza turned her big blue eyes upon Rosemary and murmured like an -obedient child: "Yes, dear! What is it?" - -Rosemary had the papers in her hand: the newspaper articles which she -had written during the night. The hand that held the manuscript shook -ever so slightly, but her voice was quite steady. - -"I want you," she said to Elza, "to read very carefully what I have -written here. They are newspaper articles which General Naniescu would -like to see published in England and in America. When you have read them -you will understand why. He wants this so badly that on the day these -articles are published Philip and Anna will receive a full pardon, -Kis-Imre will not be taken from you, and if you wish, you can all leave -the country for a time until things settle down and better times come -for you all." - -She thrust the papers into Elza's hands and turned to go. - -"I will leave you to read quite quietly," she said. - -But Elza's round blue eyes were still staring at her. - -"I don't understand you, dear," she murmured vaguely. - -"Of course you don't, darling," Rosemary rejoined gently; "but you will -when you have read what I have written. The gipsy was quite right; it is -in my power to save Philip and Anna, but only to a certain extent, -because it is you alone who can decide if I am to exercise that power or -not. God bless you, darling!" - -She put her arms round Elza and kissed her tenderly. Thank Heaven all -self-pity, all selfish introspection had gone from her. Her thoughts, -her love, her pity were all for Elza. But it had to be. Elza must -decide. _Her_ people! _Her_ son! _She_ must decide! - -When Rosemary hastened across the lawn she turned once more toward the -summer house. Elza was still sitting there, staring with big, blue eyes -into vacancy. Every line of her attitude indicated bewilderment. She had -the packet of paper in her hand and was tapping it against her knee. -Poor Elza! A heavy sob rose from Rosemary's aching heart. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXI - - -Rosemary did not sec Elza again that day. Just before dinner Rosa came -with a short scribbled note from her. "Maurus is very restless," it -said, "I don't like to leave him. Will you and dear Lord Tarkington -forgive me if I don't join you at dinner?" - -The evening was dreary. Jasper said very little, and Rosemary felt -thoroughly out of tune with him; he had a meek air about him that -irritated her. Hers was not a nature to sympathize with remorse, and -Jasper's manner gave the idea that he regretted having forced her into a -decision. So she gave curt answers when he spoke to her, and after -dinner he retired into the smoking-room with the excuse that he had some -business letters to write. She sat reading most of the evening, her -nerves on edge, hearing all sorts of mysterious sounds through the -apparent stillness of the house. - -When Jasper came to say "good night" she felt sorry for him. He looked -forlorn and miserable, and reason told Rosemary that he of all people -ought not to be allowed to suffer through a situation that was none of -his making. Poor Jasper! She, his wife, had dragged him, unwillingly -enough, into this impasse wherein his quiet habits of a wealthy English -gentleman were hopelessly perturbed and his outlook outraged at every -point. So, after she had returned his last kiss and saw him going -upstairs, slowly, dragging one step after another, almost like an old -man, she ran after him and linked her arm in his, and gave him a tender -and sympathetic smile. The look of gratitude which he gave her in return -warmed her heart. Here at least was no divided duty. In a moment of -pique--it was nothing less than that--she had linked her fate with -Jasper Tarkington, accepted from him all the lavish gifts that wealth -could buy, and which he so generously bestowed upon her. In exchange for -that he only asked for her love; and if the love which he gave and -demanded did not reach that sublime ideal of which Rosemary had once -dreamed, at any rate it was loyal and ungrudging, and she had no right -to let her caprice stand in the way of his happiness. - -It was perhaps strange that these thoughts should come to her at a -moment when her whole soul was torn with a terrible sorrow and a racking -anxiety; perhaps they came because on this very day she had made the -greatest abdication of her will that she had ever done in all her life. -She had always acted for herself, judged for herself, set herself a high -standard of straight living and straight thinking, and lived up to it. -To-day she had left a decision which should have been hers in the hands -of another. She knew that she had done right, but her pride was -humiliated, and to soothe that pride she set herself a fresh standard of -duty to Jasper and determined to live up to that. - -But ever afterwards she turned away with a shudder from thoughts of this -evening, when she probed the full depth of Jasper's passion for her, and -saw before her like a row of spectres the vision, of an endless vista of -years, during which every caress would mean for her an effort, and every -kiss a lie. - -The new standard of duty which she had set herself would be very -difficult to live up to. She had never loved Jasper, only hoped that she -might learn to love him one day, but on this fateful evening she -realized that she might in time learn to hate him. - -When at last she was alone she found herself unable to rest. Through the -open window the sounds of the oncoming storm became more and more -insistent. It was rolling in on the bosom of the clouds from over the -mountains in the west. Already one or two vivid flashes of lightning had -rent the sky, and now and then great gusts of wind swept across the -valley and sent a soughing and whispering through the trees. The poplars -bowed their crests, and the twisted branches of the old acacias shivered -and cracked in the blast. It was insufferably hot, and there was a smell -of sulphur in the air. Rosemary in a thin lace wrap could not succeed in -keeping cool. She stood by the open window, longing for the storm to -break in all its fury, so that she might be rid of this feeling of -oppression which was so unendurable, because the storm, far or near, had -gone on almost uninterruptedly for over twenty-four hours. Rosemary's -thoughts now were with Elza. She pictured to herself the unfortunate -woman wrestling with a decision which either way must mean the breaking -of her heart. Elza, who outwardly seemed just a soft, futile, pampered -doll, with thoughts fixed on her menus and her servants, was a veritable -heroine, strong and tenacious, proud without vanity, loving without -weakness, the type that represented everything that was finest and best -in a woman. She was of the stuff that religious martyrs were made of in -the past, and she would not come to a decision without a terrible -struggle. If in the end her heart overruled the dictates of justice and -of right, her remorse would be as devastating as her courage hitherto -had been sublime. - -If Elza had been a religious woman she would not have suffered nearly so -cruelly. The pagan knows nothing of the comfort of prayer, of diving -blindly from the rocks of care into the ocean of God's love. And Elza -was only a pagan from whom the thin veneer of Christianity laid on in -early life had been rubbed off long ago. She would not now be on her -knees, murmuring with heaven-born resignation: "Lord, not my will, but -thine be done!" she would be fighting a tough battle, wrestling with her -heart, castigating her tenderest feelings, fighting alone, unaided, -unconsoled. - -Poor, poor Elza! Rosemary, looking out into the storm, seemed to see the -pretty round face distorted by grief, the big, child-like eyes gazing -bewildered on the immensity of the puzzle which the Fates had set for -her to solve. And while Rosemary gazed the storm became full of -pictures, each lightning flash revealed a face. Elza! Philip, dark-eyed, -enthusiastic, the idealist! Anna, gentle and resigned. Maurus, the man, -the head of the family, the trunk of the tree weaker than its branches. -And then Peter. Oh, Peter filled the night with his presence. There was -Peter in flannels, a boy with bright eyes and curly head, fighting his -life's battles with a cricket bat and a joke. Peter home on leave from -that hell in Belgium, receiving from his king the supreme reward for an -act of almost unequalled bravery, of which, in his boyish way, he would -often look quite ashamed. And Peter that night in June, long ago. -Peter's strong arms round her shoulders. Peter's impassioned words, -vying in melody with the nightingale. Peter's kiss that opened wide the -portal of Heaven; and, lastly, Peter the mysterious, the subtle, unseen -influence in whose wake strode sorrow and disaster. And the rumbling of -the thunder brought back to Rosemary's ears Jasper's words of warning: -"I only wish I had your belief in coincidences"; and "Ever since Peter's -arrival I have seen nothing but one calamity after another fall upon -these wretched people here." And then that awful, awful indictment which -she had been unable to refute: "Don't you know that Peter Blakeney is a -paid spy of the Roumanian Government?" The thunder brought the echo of -those terrible words. Louder and louder, for the storm was drawing -nearer, and the echo of those awful words drowned the very sound of -thunder. - -All at once the storm broke in all its fury; there was a deafening crash -and a flash of lightning so vivid that for the space of one second the -garden stood revealed as if in broad daylight before Rosemary's gaze, -clear-cut in every detail, every tree, every leaf, every flower, every -ripple upon the lake, each pebble upon the garden walk; and in that one -second Rosemary had seen Peter standing on the gravel walk, not fifty -yards from her window, and looking up at her--gazing. She caught his -eyes in that one flash. He was dressed in a dark suit, his cricketing -cap was on his head. It had been an instant's flash, but she had seen -him, and he was gazing up at her window. And their eyes had met in that -one flash, right through the storm. - -After that all was darkness, and though from time to time the night was -rent by lightning flashes, Rosemary did not see Peter again. And when -later on the storm subsided, and, wearied out, she went to bed and -slept, she dreamt that all her suspicions of Peter had been proved to be -wrong. She dreamt that she was a few years younger, that they were on -the river together, in a punt, and that the nightingale was singing. She -dreamt of the lapping of the water against the low-lying river bank, of -the scent of meadow-sweet, and of the honey-coloured moon that painted -long lines of golden light upon the reeds. She dreamt that Peter kissed -her, and that she was free to give him kiss for kiss. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXII - - -When Rosemary woke the next morning she felt quite convinced that the -vision which she had had in the night, of Peter standing on the gravel -walk and looking up at her window, was only a creation of her own fancy. -Rosa had opened the curtains and the volets, and Rosemary saw a dull, -grey sky before her. The storm had certainly abated, but it was still -raining. Rosemary thought of the cricket match, which would probably -have to be postponed owing to the weather, and of the disappointment -this would mean to many, especially to Peter, who had set his heart upon -it. - -During breakfast Jasper told her that he had received a note from his -_agent de change_ at Cluj, and that the latter said in his letter that -the cricket match which should have been begun yesterday had to be -postponed owing to the weather. - -"Steinberg goes on to say," Jasper continued, "that he had heard that -the cricket pitch--the playground he calls it--was like a swamp. The -storm seems to have been very severe the other side of the frontier. It -went on for twenty-four hours without a break, and was still raging at -the time of writing. Unless the weather improves very much, Steinberg -says that the match will have to be abandoned altogether, as Payson and -several of his team have to be back in Budapest in time for work on -Monday morning, which means leaving Hódmezö on the Sunday." - -Then, as Rosemary made no comment on the news, only stared rather -dejectedly out of the window, Jasper went on after a while: - -"I am afraid it will mean a disappointment all round, as the weather can -hardly be said to have improved, can it?" - -Rosemary said: "No, it cannot," after which the subject was dropped. -Somehow the idea of the postponed cricket match worried her, and there -was one insistent thought which would force itself into the forefront of -her mind to the exclusion of all others, and that was the thought that -the postponed cricket match would have left Peter free yesterday to come -over to Kis-Imre, and that therefore it might have been himself in the -flesh who was standing during the storm in the garden last night. - -Why he should have chosen to stand in the garden in the rain rather than -come into his aunt's house was a problem which Rosemary felt herself too -wearied and disheartened to tackle. - -When she went downstairs soon after ten o'clock she met Elza in the -hall, dressed ready to go out. She looked more tired, more aged, more -ill than the day before; obviously she had spent another sleepless -night. But she kissed Rosemary very tenderly. "Come into the -smoking-room, darling," she said. "I want to say something to you." - -Rosemary followed her into the smoking-room and at once asked after -Maurus. - -"He has had no sleep," Elza said, "and at times his brain wanders. But -physically he seems no worse--rather stronger, I think, than yesterday, -and he enjoyed his breakfast. If we could only keep him quiet!" - -She opened her handbag and took out the papers which Rosemary gave her -yesterday. - -"I read your articles through very carefully, dear," she said, "but I -did not have to pray for guidance. I knew at once that none of us, not -Maurus or I, or Anna's people, would accept the children's safety at -such a price. The children themselves would refuse." - -With a perfectly steady hand she held the papers out to Rosemary. "Take -them, darling," she said. "Thank you for letting me decide. That is the -one thing which we none of us would have forgiven, if you had published -these articles without consulting us." - -Rosemary took the papers, and with them Elza's hands, which she raised -to her lips. She could not speak for the moment, she could only kiss -those soft, white hands, which, with sublime heroism, were sacrificing -an idolised son for an abstract idea of humanity and justice. - -"Elza," she murmured at last, "have you thought of everything--of -Maurus--of Anna's mother?" - -"Anna," Elza replied softly, "has linked her fate with Philip's. Her -mother is a hard woman, but she would not be a traitor to her own -people. As for poor Maurus, the last of his tottering reason would go if -I were to speak of this with him. But, sane or insane, he would not buy -his son's life at this price. We are suffering enough, God knows, but -how could we live in future, knowing that other fathers, other mothers, -would have to go through this same misery because of our cowardice. -These devils here would continue their work unchecked--perhaps not for -long--but they would continue--no one would stop them--no one could -criticise them after this. And mothers would suffer as I am suffering -now--and fathers--and wives--our friends, perhaps. No, no," she said, -with a shake of the head, "it can't be, my dear, it can't be." - -She pushed Rosemary's hand away from her, the hand that still held the -fateful papers. She thrust it aside, with eyes closed so as not to see -that thing which meant Philip's life. - -"I am going to see Charlotte Heves," she said, after a while. "I think I -ought to tell her. And after that I shall see Philip and Anna. Those -devils can't prevent my seeing my own son. I shall see Philip. I know -what he will say. And you can destroy those papers, Rosemary, darling. -Burn them. It was right to tell me, and now you know." - -There was a knock at the door. Anton came in to say that the carriage -was at the door. Elza was going to drive over to Ujlak first to see -Anna's mother, and then to Cluj to see Philip and Anna. - -"I shall not be home till late," she said as she gave Rosemary a -good-bye kiss, "but everything is in order for you and dear Lord -Tarkington. Maurus will be all right. He likes one of the sisters--the -old one--and the doctor is coming before noon. So Maurus will be all -right." - -She fussed with her cloak and her veil; her pretty little hands shook -ever so slightly, but her eyes were dry and they rested with great -tenderness on Rosemary. - -"It was quite right to tell me," were the last words she said. "Tell -dear Lord Tarkington that I did not hesitate. Not for a moment." - -She was gone, and Rosemary found herself alone with those fearful papers -in her hand. Destroy them? Yes! That is what she would do. She had known -all along that Elza would be a true heroine; she would not sacrifice her -people even as propitiation for her son. Strangely enough, Elza's point -of view was in direct opposition to Jasper's. Her own splendid ideals -had been her guide, and though she was not by any means an intellectual -woman, she was clever enough to appreciate the immense lever for evil -which Rosemary's articles would have put into the hands of the enemies -of her people. - -Destroy them? Yes! That was the only thing to be done now. Let the -chapter of doubts be finally ended. What Rosemary had thought right Elza -had endorsed. Everything else was sophistry and specious argument. So -let temptation itself be swept away. The touch of these papers had -become as noisome as a plague spot. With them in her hand Rosemary went -up to her room. Jasper was there, waiting for her and smoking a -cigarette. His eyes lit up with a curious flash when she came in. - -"You have seen Elza?" he asked. - -"How did you know?" - -"It was not a very difficult guess," he said. Then he went on: "She -thinks as you do?" - -"Absolutely!" Rosemary replied. - -He gave a quick, impatient sigh. "I am sorry," he said. "What will you -do now?" - -"Destroy these papers, of course. I have no further use for them." - -Jasper appeared thoughtful for a moment or two, then he said: "I think -Elza ought to have put the matter before Anna's mother before she -finally decided." - -"She is going to do that now," Rosemary said. - -"Has she driven over to Ujlak, then?" - -"Yes. And after that she is going to try to see Philip. I was thinking," -Rosemary went on, "that you or I might telephone to General Naniescu and -use what influence we possess to induce him to let Elza see the two -children." - -"By all means," Jasper assented. Then he added: "I think it will come -best from you." - -He was watching Rosemary closely. She was kneeling beside the huge -porcelain stove, which is such a feature in country houses in this part -of the world, and was trying to undo the catch of the door. She still -had the manuscript in her hand. - -"What are you trying to do, little one?" he asked. - -"To open the door of the stove," she replied. "Then, if you will give me -a match . . ." - -"Such a hurry?" he queried with a smile. - -"Evil in any form is best destroyed as quickly as possible." - -"That is true on principle. But in this case . . ." - -"Well?" - -"Do you think it would be quite fair to Anna's mother?" - -"What do you mean?" - -"She has not been consulted, you said." - -"No; but Elza is sure----" - -"Can anybody be sure?" he broke in quickly. "You know what these people -are. A woman like Elza--a splendid woman, I grant you--is very -impulsive. She is a heroine, as you say; but doesn't she measure weaker -characters by her own standard? She has no right to do that in this -case. Charlotte Heves has as much at stake as Elza Imrey. Maurus, I dare -say, is not in a fit state to give his opinion; but Anna's mother -certainly is; and, honestly, I don't think that it would be fair to -confront her with a _fait accompli._" - -Rosemary made no reply for a moment or two, then she deliberately closed -the catch of the iron door and rose slowly from her knees. - -"Perhaps you are right," she said. - -Jasper put out his hand, and as she tried to evade him he clutched at -her dress and drew her close to him. - -"Don't punish me, little one," he pleaded gently, and tried to look into -her eyes, which, however, she kept resolutely downcast. "Don't punish me -for not seeing entirely eye to eye with you in this. You would not have -me abdicate my freedom of thought, even though I would lie down in the -dust, for your dear feet to walk over me." - -Rosemary shook her head, but she still kept her head obstinately averted -from him. - -"May I read what you have written?" he asked. - -She gave him the manuscript without a word. He only glanced at the -envelope and then slipped the whole packet in the inner pocket of his -coat. - -"I may be able to make a suggestion or two," he went on with a kindly -smile, "something that you will call by the ugly name of compromise. -But, darling, I cannot help it. I still think that you look at the whole -thing from too lofty an elevation. Come down to earth, little one, and -look at it from a more practical point of view." - -He had succeeded in capturing both her hands, and with a sudden, -compelling gesture he forced her down on her knees. She gave a little -cry because he had hurt her wrists; but the next moment he had his arms -round her shoulders and his face buried between her throat and chin. -Rosemary managed to push him away from her. - -"Not now, Jasper," she murmured, "please!" - -He gave a curious, hoarse laugh. - -"Not now?" he retorted. "Any time, sweetheart, is kissing time! And if -you only knew how I ache with wanting your kiss!" He held her by the -shoulders and gazed on her with such a living flame in his deep-set, -dark eyes, that it seemed to consume the veils that hid her soul and to -leave it stripped before his gaze and shamed in its nakedness. - -"If you loved me ever so little," he murmured between his teeth. He -kissed her on the lips once, twice, till hers were seared and bruised, -then he released her so suddenly that she lost her balance and almost -measured her length on the floor while he rose abruptly to his feet. He -looked down at her for a moment or two, but made no attempt to help her -to get up; seeing her struggles he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. - -"I wonder, sometimes," he said in a hard, dry voice, "why one goes on -living. How much easier it would be just to lie down and die. Look at -the fuss there is because a boy and a girl will be lucky enough to go -out of this world before they have learned to hate it. They don't know -how much easier it is to die than to live. And how much better! For me -how much better! But the best of all would be to see you dead, my dear, -for then you could not go on hurting me, as you do--as you would do even -if I were in my grave----" - -And with that he strode out of the room and banged the door to behind -him. - -Rosemary struggled to her feet. She felt bruised and hurt, mentally as -well as physically. Never had Jasper been so repellent to her as he was -just now. The fear that one day she might come to hate him had become a -hideous reality. The awful thing was that he had read her secret -thoughts, her soul had been revealed to him in all its nakedness and its -shame. He knew now that she was false to the oath which she swore before -the altar, to love and cherish him. He knew that her love for Peter was -not dead, and that she turned away from him because she longed for -Peter's nearness, for Peter's love and Peter's kisses. And Rosemary knew -that with this knowledge Jasper would make of her life a hell. The love -that he bore her was too absolutely physical to allow of indulgence or -understanding. He would make her suffer in exact proportion as he -suffered himself, and that love would make him more bitter towards her -than a torturer in the Middle Ages toward his victim. - -When had she given herself away? She did not know. Not to-day, surely. -To-day had only been a confirmation, not a revelation. He had known all -along, and hated Peter from the hour when first he knew. He hated Peter -who had once been his friend, and he would make Rosemary suffer until -she could truthfully echo his words: "It is so much easier to die than -to live." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIII - - -Half an hour later! Rosemary thought that Jasper was still in his room, -and she had a longing to get away from his nearness and out into the -open. It was still raining and the sky was the colour of lead. She threw -a cape over her shoulders and opened the door of her room. She was -dreading to meet Jasper again, so she listened intently for awhile for -any sound that might betray his presence. From Maurus' apartments at the -opposite end of the gallery there came a buzz of voices, and from down -below where the servants were laying the table in the dining-room for -luncheon a clatter of crockery. Otherwise silence. And no sound from -Jasper's room close by, so Rosemary ran quickly downstairs. - -She had just reached the hall intending to go out into the garden when -she heard a strange clatter coming apparently from the smoking-room. It -sounded like a scuffle. Of course it could not be, but that was just -what it sounded like. She stood still to listen. And then she heard -quite distinctly a smothered cry. Something like a curse. And she -thought that she recognized Jasper's harsh voice. At once she ran to the -door of the smoking-room and threw it open. - -Jasper was on the ground, struggling to get back to his feet. He -appeared dazed, and to be moving with difficulty. His hand was tearing -at his collar, as if he were choking; his clothes were disarranged, his -face looked pallid and blotchy, and his eyes bloodshot. But Rosemary did -not scream when she caught sight of him. Something else that she had -seen had paralyzed her limbs and seemed actually to be holding her by -the throat. The tall window which gave on this side of the garden was -wide open, and in a flash, just as she entered the room, Rosemary had -seen Peter in the act of getting over the windowsill. The next second he -had disappeared over the ledge, and she heard his footsteps crunching -the gravel as he ran in the direction of the main gates. - -A moment or two later Jasper had recovered his voice and the use of his -limbs. - -"Call to the servants!" he cried in a raucous voice. "Curse that -devil--he will get away." - -But Rosemary could not move. She could only stand where she was in the -doorway and stare at the open window. Jasper had struggled to his feet, -lurched forward and tried to push past her. He tried to call out, but -the words were choked in his throat. He put his hand up again and tore -at his collar, then he tottered and would have fallen backwards if -Rosemary had not been quick enough and strong enough to catch him and to -guide him to the nearest chair, into which he sank, half fainting. One -of the servants came across the hall from the dining-room. Rosemary -called to him to bring some brandy. - -"The gracious lord feels faint," she said. "Be quick, Sàndor, will -you?" - -As soon as Sàndor had brought the brandy, Rosemary sent him -peremptorily away. Fortunately neither he nor any of the other servants -had heard anything of the scuffle, and Rosemary, for very life, could -not have said anything to them just then. She knelt down beside Jasper -and made him swallow some of the brandy. Obviously he had not been hurt, -only scared, and the scared look was still in his eyes when he came to -himself. - -"You haven't let him go?" were the first words he uttered. - -"Let whom go, Jasper?" Rosemary asked quietly. She rose to her feet and -offered him an arm to help him get up. - -"That spying devil," Jasper replied, with a savage oath. "Peter -Blakeney." - -"What in the world do you mean?" - -"You know quite well what I mean. You must have seen him--I told you to -call the servants. Are you in collusion with him, then, that you did not -do it?" - -"I heard a scuffle," Rosemary rejoined coldly, "when I reached the hall. -I opened the door and saw you lying on the ground. I only had enough -presence of mind to send for some brandy. Perhaps you will tell me what -else happened." - -"What else?" he retorted, with a sneer. He had risen and gone over to -the mirror to readjust his clothes. She could see his face in the glass, -livid with passion, his eyes fixed upon her reflection, while he fumbled -with his tie and collar. But even while she watched him she saw a change -come slowly over his face. The colour came back to his cheeks, his eyes -narrowed, and an indefinable expression crept into them. Perhaps he did -not know that Rosemary was watching him; certain it is that she had -never seen such an expression on his face before--his lips parted above -the teeth, which gleamed sharp and white and gave the mouth a cruel, -wolfish look. It was all over in a moment, the next he had swung round -and faced her, apparently quite himself again, with just the habitual -expression of high-bred weariness which he always affected. - -"I was obviously wrong," he said coolly, "to suggest that you were in -collusion with that young devil, and for this I beg your pardon." - -"Wouldn't it be best," she retorted equally coolly, "if you were to tell -me what did happen?" - -"Peter Blakeney sneaked in through that open window. My back was turned -that way and I heard nothing, as I was intent on reading your -manuscript. He attacked me from behind. I was taken unawares, but I -tried to put up a fight. However, he is younger and more athletic than I -am, and he knocked me down. He had already snatched your manuscript out -of my hand, and he disappeared with it the way he came, through the open -window, at the very moment that you entered the room." - -Rosemary had listened to this without moving a muscle. She stood in the -middle of the room as if she had been turned to stone, alive only by her -eyes, which were fixed with such an intensity of questioning on Jasper -that instinctively he turned away, as if dreading to meet her glance. - -"That is all, my dear," he said, with a sudden assumption of meekness. -"I was certainly to blame for allowing that precious manuscript to be -taken from me. I should, I know, have guarded it with my life, and so -on, and I have probably sunk very low in your estimation as a coward. -But I was taken entirely unawares, and one is not usually prepared for -daylight robbery in a house filled with servants. So that must be my -excuse----" He paused a moment, then added dryly: "That and the fact -that I warned you more than once that Peter Blakeney was working against -you. Now perhaps you are convinced." - -At last Rosemary recovered the use of her tongue, but her voice sounded -strange to herself, toneless and distant, as if it came from beneath the -earth. "You are quite sure, I suppose," she said slowly, "that it was -Peter Blakeney who--who did what you say?" - -"Aren't you?" he retorted with a harsh laugh. She made no reply to the -taunt. Outwardly she did not even wince. - -"You are quite sure that he got away with the manuscript?" - -He shrugged his shoulders. "I am quite sure," he replied. - -"What do you suppose he means to do with it?" - -"Sell it to Naniescu, of course." - -"In exchange for Philip and Anna's freedom?" - -Jasper looked at his wife keenly for a moment or two, and the corners of -his lips curled in a satiric smile. He took out his cigar-case, -carefully selected a weed, struck a match, lit his cigar, and blew out -the flame. Then only did he reply. - -"Hardly that, I think, seeing that he was instrumental in getting them -locked up. More probably, I should say, in exchange for a few thousand -pounds." - -This time the shaft struck home. Rosemary had some difficulty in -smothering the cry of protest which had risen to her throat. But she -recovered herself in less than a second and said coolly: - -"The manuscript must be got back, of course." - -Once more Jasper shrugged his shoulders. - -"It might have been done at the moment; but I was helpless, and you were -so concerned for my welfare that you did not raise hell to send the -servants after the thief." - -"I did not know then--about the manuscript." - -"You know now," he retorted, "and have not called the servants yet." - -"This is not the business of the servants. I look to you to get me back -the manuscript." - -"To me?" he rejoined with a harsh laugh. "Are you not putting too great -a strain on my allegiance? You know my views. Should I not rather be -wishing that damnable spy God-speed?" - -"Jasper," she said earnestly, "you must get me back the manuscript." - -"How is it to be done, my dear? From all accounts our friend Peter is as -elusive as his ancestor, the Scarlet Pimpernel. He has ten minutes' -advance of us already . . . a car probably waiting for him in the -village. Are you quite sure you can't hear the whirring of a motor now?" - -"You could try, at any rate." And now there was a distinct note of -pleading in her voice. "General Naniescu----" - -"Make yourself no illusion in that quarter, my dear," he broke in -quickly. "Once Naniescu is in possession of those precious articles of -yours he will send a courier flying across Europe with them. Remember -that with the MSS. there was your covering letter to the editor of the -_Times_, asking for immediate publication. Let me see," he went on -slowly, "this is Saturday. I believe we shall see the first of those -wonderful articles in print in the _Times_ on Wednesday." - -"I don't care how it's done," she replied impatiently. "If you won't -help me I'll manage alone." - -"What can you do, my dear?" - -"Telegraph to the _Times_, for one thing, and start for London this -evening." - -"Plucky!" he remarked dryly; "but I doubt if you'll succeed." - -"Will you put obstacles in my way?" - -"I? Certainly not. But Naniescu will." Then, as without attempting -further argument she turned to go, he added blandly: "And Peter." - -To this final taunt Rosemary made no reply. Her thoughts were in a -whirl, but through the very confusion that was raging in her brain her -resolution remained clear. She would wire to the editor of the _Times_ -not to act on any letter he might receive from her until he heard from -her again, and in the meantime she would start for London immediately. -Even if her wire were stopped by Naniescu's orders, she would be in -London in time to stop the publication of the articles. Though she had a -great deal of influence in the journalistic world, it was not likely -that so important a paper as the _Times_ would be ready to print her -articles the moment they were received. Yes, she had plenty of time. And -the whole conspiracy, whatever it was, had been clumsily engineered and -would certainly prove futile. - -The conspiracy! Rosemary could not think of that. Yet when she did it -would mean such a terrible heartache that the whole world would become -a blank. Peter blotted out of her life. That is what it would mean when -she regained the power to think. It would come to her probably in the -train, travelling alone across Europe, hurrying to nullify work done by -Peter--shameful, despicable work that would sully the reputation of a -pariah. The work of a spy, of hands tainted with ill-gotten wealth! -Rosemary's gorge rose at the thought. The conspiracy would prove -futile--there was plenty of time to subvert it--but it was an evil, -noisome thing that had been. It had existed--and Peter had given it -birth! - -Peter! - -Never again could the world be bright and beautiful. The thing was so -loathsome that it would taint with its foulness everything that Rosemary -had up to this hour looked on as sweet and sacred and dear. She herself -would remain noisome: a body to execrate, since it had once lain passive -and willing in Peter's arms, since her lips still retained the savour of -his kiss. - -Rosemary went out into the village as far as the post office. She wrote -out her telegram to the editor of the _Times_ and asked whether it could -be sent out immediately. In order to stimulate the zeal of the -post-mistress she emphasised her instructions with a hundred lei note. -The post-mistress smiled and thanked the gracious lady for the note, and -she promised that she would send the telegram off within the next few -minutes. Then, as soon as Rosemary had gone out of the stuffy little -office and disappeared down the village street, the woman rang up the -Imrey Palace at Cluj and asked to be allowed to speak with His -Excellency the General. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIV - - -Rosemary's wire was repeated over the telephone to General Naniescu, who -promptly gave orders that it should not be sent. When he put down the -receiver he was very much puzzled. Something had apparently happened at -Kis-Imre which had greatly disturbed the beautiful Uno. It seemed indeed -as if she had actually written those articles which Naniescu wanted so -badly that he was prepared to pay ten thousand pounds sterling of -Government money for them. And having written the articles, the lady -seemed first to have sent them off, then to have repented. - -Well, well! It was all very puzzling. Even M. de Kervoisin, experienced -diplomat though he was, could suggest no solution. He advised the -obvious: to wait and see. - -"We shall see our friend Number Ten soon," he said. "If I am not -mistaken he has at least one key to the puzzle in his possession." - -But it was not Number Ten who presented himself at the Imrey palace that -afternoon. It was _ce cher_ Monsieur Blakeney, who had come all the way -from England in order to preside over a game of cricket that had not -come off because of the weather. His Excellency was delighted to see -him, and so was M. de Kervoisin. This charming, most unexpected but most -welcome visit was due no doubt to the cricket and the bad weather. So -tiresome! _Mais hélas!_ Man proposes and the rain disposes. - -His Excellency was most sympathetic. Would M. Blakeney have a cigar and -a glass of _fine?_ No? Then what could His Excellency do for M. -Blakeney? - -"Pray command me, my dear Monsieur Blakeney. We are all so grateful to -you for the kind interest you are taking in our young athletes. It will -be such a happy recollection for them in after years that so -distinguished an English champion as yourself has helped them with their -games." - -Peter let him talk on. He thought it a pity to stem this flood of -eloquence, and he was looking forward to the moment when Naniescu's -complacent effusions would turn to equally comic puzzlement first, and -subsequently to amazement and delight. - -"Shall I tell your Excellency now," he said as soon as he could get a -word in edgeways, "why I have come?" - -"_Mais comment donc?_" the general replied suavely. "I am hanging on -your lips, _mon cher_ Monsieur Blakeney." - -"Well," Peter said, quite slowly and speaking in French since M. de -Kervoisin did not know English, "well, it's just this. Lady Tarkington -has written certain newspaper articles, which you, general, very much -desire to see published. That's so, isn't it?" - -But though this opening almost betrayed Naniescu into an exclamation of -surprise, he had enough control over his nerves not to give himself -away. Fortunately he was a great adept at expressive gestures, and his -cigar also helped to keep him in countenance. - -He leaned back in his chair, was silent for a moment or two blowing -rings of smoke through his full, red lips. - -"Articles?" he queried at last with an assumption of perfect -indifference. "I don't know. What articles do you mean, _cher ami?_" - -"Those," Peter replied with equal indifference, "for which you were -prepared to pay a deuced lot of money to your spy in chief." - -Naniescu waved his podgy hand that held the cigar, then he deliberately -dusted away a modicum of ash that had dropped upon his trousers. - -"Ah!" he said innocently. "Lady Tarkington, you say, has written such -articles?" - -"Yes. She has." - -"Then no doubt she will honour me by allowing me to see the manuscript. -She knows how deeply I am interested in her work." - -"No, general," Peter broke in drily. "Lady Tarkington has no intention -of allowing you to see that particular manuscript of hers." - -"Ah! May I be permitted to inquire how you happen to know that?" - -"I happen to know--no matter how--that Lady Tarkington only wrote the -articles tentatively; that after she had written them she repented -having done so, and that her next act would have been to throw the -manuscript into the fire." - -"Very interesting. But, forgive me, my dear Monsieur Blakeney, if I ask -you in what way all this concerns you?" - -"I'll tell you," Peter said coolly. "I also happen to know--no matter -how--that you are prepared to pay a large sum of money for those -articles, so I thought that I would forestall your spy-in-chief by -driving a bargain with you over the manuscript." - -"But how can you do that, my dear young friend, without the manuscript -in your possession?" - -"The manuscript is in my possession, Excellency," Peter said coolly. - -"How did that come about, if I may ask the question?" - -"You may. I stole it this morning from Lady Tarkington." - -"What?" - -Naniescu had given such a jump that he nearly turned himself out of his -chair. The cigar fell from between his fingers, and the glass that -contained the fine was upset and its contents spilt over the table. Even -M. de Kervoisin had given a start; and his pale, expressionless face had -flushed. Though the report of the post-mistress of Kis-Imre had given -Naniescu an inkling that something unexpected had occurred, he certainly -had not been prepared for this. - -He looked up at Peter and frowned, trying to recover his dignity, which -had been seriously jeopardized. Peter was laughing--very impolitely, -thought His Excellency. But then these English have no manners. - -"You'll forgive my smiling, won't you, sir?" asked Peter quite -deferentially. - -"Go on with your story," Naniescu retorted gruffly. "Never mind your -manners." - -"I can't very well mind them, sir," Peter rejoined, with utmost -seriousness, "as I don't possess any. And I can't go on with my story -because there is none to tell." - -"You have got to tell me how you knew that Lady Tarkington had written -certain newspaper articles; how you knew that I wanted them; how you -came to--to steal them--the word is your own, my dear Monsieur -Blakeney--and where they are at the present moment." - -"None of which facts, I am thinking, concern your Excellency," Peter -retorted coolly, "except the last. The manuscript of Lady Tarkington's -newspaper articles is in my pocket at the present moment, together with -her letter to the editor of the _Times_, asking for these articles to be -published at an early opportunity. So, you see, sir, that I am bringing -you a perfectly sound proposition." - -"I'll have to read those articles first." - -"Of course," Peter agreed, and took the sheets of manuscript out of his -pocket. "At your leisure." - -Naniescu thrust out his podgy hand for them; his large, expressive eyes -had lit up with a gleam of excitement. Peter gave him the manuscript, -and as he did so he remarked casually, "They are no use to your -Excellency without the covering letter." - -Which remark seemed to tickle M. de Kervoisin's fancy, for he gave a -funny, dry cackle which might pass for a laugh. Naniescu, however, -appeared not to have noticed the taunt. His white, downy hands shook -slightly as he unfolded the manuscript. He leaned back in his chair and -began to read, the excitement of his nerves was chiefly apparent by his -stertorous breathing and his almost savage chewing of the stump of his -cigar. - -M. de Kervoisin remained silent. He offered Peter a cigarette, and while -the Englishman struck a match, lit the cigarette and smoked it with -obvious relish, the Frenchman watched him through his half-closed lids -with an expression of puzzlement upon his keen, wrinkled face. No sound -disturbed the silence that had fallen over the actors of the little -comedy, only the ticking of an old-fashioned dock and now and then the -crisp crackling of paper as Naniescu turned over the sheets of the -manuscript. From time to time he nodded his head and murmured -complacently, "_C'est bien! C'est même très, très bien!_" And once he -looked across at his friend and asked: "Would you like to read this, -Kervoisin?" But the Frenchman only shrugged and replied with a slightly -sarcastic smile: "Oh! my dear friend, if you are satisfied----" - -Peter said nothing. He waited quite patiently, seemingly completely -indifferent, and smoked one cigarette after another. - -When Naniescu had finished reading, he carefully folded the manuscript, -laid it on the table beside him and put his hand upon it. - -"What do you want for this?" he asked. - -And Peter replied coolly: "The title deeds of the Kis-Imre property." - -Naniescu stared at Peter for a moment or two, then he threw back his -head and laughed until the tears trickled down his cheeks. - -"You are astonishing, my friend," he said. "The property is worthy fifty -thousand sterling." - -"I have paid an option on it of five thousand," Peter retorted, "and the -rest wouldn't come out of your Excellency's pocket, I take it." - -"Not out of my pocket, of course," Naniescu was willing to admit, "but -out of that of my Government. We are going to sell Kis-Imre for the -benefit of the State." - -"And won't your Excellency be purchasing these newspaper articles for -the benefit of the State?" - -"These articles are not worth it," Naniescu retorted gruffly. - -"Very well, let's say no more about it. I'm sorry I troubled your -Excellency." - -Peter rose as if to go and put out his hand toward the sheets of -manuscript. - -"Don't be a fool," Naniescu broke in. "I'll give you a good price for -the thing, but a property worth fifty thousand sterling--hang it -all--it's a bit stiff." - -Peter smiled. "How tersely you put the matter, general," he said. "I -dare say it is a bit stiff, but I am not prepared to bargain--only to -sell. And if you are not satisfied----" - -"Easy, easy, my impetuous young friend. Did I say that I was not -satisfied--or that I refuse to consider the matter? But there are -considerations." - -"What considerations?" - -"To begin with, how do I know that the English newspaper would accept -these articles as the genuine work of Lady Tarkington?" - -"I told you that I had Lady Tarkington's own covering letter to the -editor of the _Times_, asking him to publish the articles as soon as -possible." - -"Let me see it," Naniescu retorted. - -"With pleasure." - -Peter took the letter out of his pocket, but before handing it over to -Naniescu he said dryly: "May I in the meanwhile refresh my memory of the -articles?" - -The eyes of the two men met across the table. Naniescu's flashed with -resentment, but Peter's face wore a disarming smile. He looked for all -the world like a schoolboy bartering marbles for stamps. But the -situation appeared to tickle Kervoisin's fancy. He gave a dry chuckle -and said: - -"You are quite right, _mon ami._ They are astonishing, these English." - -The exchange was effected without Naniescu losing his sense of -resentment or Peter his pleasant smile, and Peter held on to Rosemary's -manuscript while the general read the letter through. - -While he read, the look of resentment vanished from his face and a -complacent smile rose to his full, sensuous lips. - -"_Il n'y pas à dire_," he murmured; "_c'est très, très bien._" - -When he had finished reading he looked up at Peter. - -"Now then, Monsieur Blakeney," he said curtly, "your last price?" - -"I have told you, sir--the title-deeds of Kis-Imre." - -"You are joking." - -"I was never more serious in my life." - -"But, hang it all, man, if I make the property over to you, how are we -to get rid of the Imreys?" - -Peter shrugged his shoulders, and, still smiling, said coolly: "That, -Excellency, is your affair, not mine." - -"But the Countess Imrey is your aunt." - -"What has that got to do with the whole thing, Excellency?" - -"What has it got to do with it? What has it----?" Naniescu was gasping -with astonishment. He was something of a rascal himself, but never in -all his life had he come across such callousness or such impudence. He -turned to Kervoisin as much as to say: "Have you ever seen such an -unmitigated young blackguard?" But the Frenchman's face was inscrutable; -his keen, pale eyes rested with obvious puzzlement on Peter. - -"Then you want me," Naniescu asked, as soon as he had recovered his -breath, "you want me to turn the Imreys out of their home?" - -"It won't be the first time, Excellency, that you have done that sort of -thing, will it?" Peter retorted, with his most engaging smile. - -Strangely enough, Naniescu was losing his temper. He wanted those -articles and wanted them badly, and if this preposterous deal went -through he could have them without putting his hand in his pocket. But -this young blackguard exasperated him. Perhaps professional pride was -wounded at meeting a man more corrupt, more venal than himself. To -further his own ends Naniescu would have plundered and bullied to an -unlimited extent, but he would not have robbed and bullied his own kith -and kin; whereas this handsome young athlete with the engaging smile did -not seem to have the slightest scruple or the least pricking of -conscience. It would be a triumph to get the better of him in some sort -of way. Unfortunately the scamp had not yet given up the manuscript, and -Naniescu only had the letter, whilst de Kervoisin was in one of his -abstracted fits when he wouldn't open his mouth to give friendly advice. - -The general, sitting back in his chair, and blowing smoke rings through -his pursed lips, had a swift but exceedingly pleasant day-dream. Those -articles were just what he wanted. They were so beautifully written! So -convincingly! What a stir they would make! They were a complete -vindication of his administration here in Transylvania. The country -prosperous. The people contented. Only a small minority grumbling, -without the slightest justification. Oh, those articles! Published in -the English _Times_ and signed by the illustrious "Uno"! Naniescu, -closing his eyes to enjoy this wonderful day-dream, saw himself summoned -to Bucharest, there to receive the personal thanks of his King and a -substantial reward from his Government, whilst all he need do now to -obtain these glorious results was to hand over to this young rascal a -property that belonged to that fool Maurus Imrey. - -It was a lovely day-dream. A stroke of the pen would make it reality. No -wonder that General Naniescu swore loudly when the crackling of paper -woke him from this short trance. The young rascal was quite -unconcernedly stowing that precious manuscript away in his pocket. - -"Halt!" Naniescu exclaimed, on the impulse of the moment. "I accept----" -Then he added guardedly: "On principle, I mean." - -"And in fact?" Peter queried, without making the slightest movement -towards taking the manuscript out of his pocket again. - -"Yes, yes!" Naniescu replied impatiently. "But, curse you for a -jackanapes, these things take time----" - -"They need not," Peter rejoined curtly. "All you need do is to give me -an official receipt for forty-five thousand sterling, the balance of the -purchase-money for the Kis-Imre property. The British Consul and your -lawyer will do the rest." - -"And when do you want possession?" - -"At once." - -Naniescu made a final appeal to his friend: "What do you say, -Kervoisin?" - -But the Frenchman's face remained inscrutable. He was watching the smoke -that curled upwards from the tip of his cigarette, and only from time to -time did he throw a quick, indefinable glance at the tall, athletic -figure of the man who was driving such a contemptible bargain. When -Naniescu appealed directly to him, he only shrugged his shoulders to -indicate his complete detachment from the whole affair. Peter, on the -other hand, showed not the slightest sign of impatience. He even went to -the length of buttoning up his coat. - -"Would you like to think it over?" he said coolly. "I can leave my offer -open for another few hours." - -"No! damn you!" Naniescu exclaimed, and jumped to his feet. "Wait for me -here. I'll have the receipt ready in five minutes." - -After which, from sheer force of habit, he swore in several other -languages before he finally strode out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXV - - -Peter met de Kervoisin's shrewd eyes fixed searchingly upon him. He gave -a quaint, good-humoured laugh. - -"Are you trying to make up your mind, sir," he asked, "just what kind of -a blackguard I am?" - -M. de Kervoisin's thin lips curled in a wry smile. "I am not sure," he -said, "that you are a blackguard. But I confess that I do not understand -you." - -"Which is very flattering, sir. But isn't it natural that a man should -covet a beautiful property and seize the cheapest means to become -possessed of it? That sort of thing has been largely done by the -conquering nations since the war. Then why not by individuals?" - -"Why not, as you say? But I was not thinking of that side of the -question, chiefly because I do not believe that you stole Lady -Tarkington's manuscript in order to drive a bargain with our friend here -over the Kis-Imre property. I may be wrong, but you don't look to me the -sort of man who would do this dirty trick for mere gain. I am giving you -the credit of desiring above all to save your kinsfolk, young and old, -from certain highly unpleasant eventualities." - -"You are very generous, sir, in your estimate of me. - -"The question is," Kervoisin mused, "whether after all this they will be -grateful to you for what you have done, or will they hate you, do you -think, for what the publication of those articles will mean to their -people? Lady Tarkington must at one time have intended to publish those -articles, since she took the trouble to write them. Something turned her -from the purpose: either her own conviction, or the desire of the Imreys -themselves." - -"I suppose so," Peter said, with a shrug of complete indifference. - -"Whereupon you, my dear friend, stepped in like an unwanted _deus ex -machinâ_, and settled the business to your own satisfaction, if not to -theirs." - -"I never was good at Latin," Peter said, with his most engaging smile, -"but we'll leave it at that if you like." - -De Kervoisin was silent for a moment or two, his attention being -seemingly riveted on the rings of smoke that rose from his cigarette. - -"I wonder," he murmured after a while. - -"Don't trouble, sir. I am not worth it." - -"Ah! but youth always is a perpetual wonder to me. It is such a long -time since I was young myself. And I was wondering which of the two -levers youth pulled in order to make you act as you did." - -"Two levers?" - -"Love or hate." - -Then, as Peter was silent in his turn, M. de Kervoisin went on: "You -know, we in France always look for the woman in every case. Now here we -have not far to seek. And yet love would seem to me to have gained -nothing by this adventure, whilst hate, on the other hand----" - -He paused abruptly, his keen eyes narrowed, and his lips curled in a -sardonic smile. - -"Ah!" he said. "I think I understand, after all." - -"That's more than I do, sir," Peter retorted ingenuously. - -M. de Kervoisin would no doubt have pursued the subject, which seemed -greatly to interest him, had not Naniescu just then made a noisy -re-entry into the room. He had a large, official-looking document in his -hand, which he threw down on the table. - -"Have a look at this, my dear Monsieur Blakeney," he said curtly. "I -think that you will find it in order." - -Peter took up the paper and examined it at great length. It was a -receipt for the sum of forty-five thousand pounds sterling, in full -satisfaction for the sale of the estate of Kis-Imre here described as -the property of the Crown of Roumania. It was signed with Naniescu's -elaborate flourish, countersigned and stamped; it stated further that -the sale would be duly inscribed in the Bureau des Hypothèques in -accordance with the law, and the _acte de vente_ and title-deeds handed -over within one month to M. Peter Blakeney or his duly appointed -representative. - -It was all in order. Peter folded the receipt, but before putting it -away he said to Naniescu: - -"The whole thing, of course, is conditional on a free pardon being -granted to Philip Imrey and Anna Heves, with permission to leave the -country immediately. That was the original bargain between yourself and -Lady Tarkington." - -"They can dear out of the country the day the last of these articles is -published in the _Times_," Naniescu rejoined gruffly. "I'll arrange for -that fool Maurus Imrey and his wife to clear out at the same time. The -sooner I am rid of the whole brood of them, the better I shall like it." - -"I am sure you will," Peter said blandly. "Then perhaps you won't mind -letting me have passports for them. You can post-date them, of course. I -shouldn't then have to intrude on you again." - -"You are very kind. The passports post-dated, say, a week from to-day -will be in the bureau at your disposal whenever you like to call for -them. You understand that I should revoke them if at least one of these -articles has not appeared within the week." - -"I quite understand," Peter concluded. Everything now being in order, he -slipped the receipt into his pocket-book, then, without further words, -he handed Rosemary's manuscript over to Naniescu. - -"You have the covering letter," he said simply. - -Naniescu nodded, and he took the papers with a sigh of satisfaction, -which he did not even attempt to disguise. His ill-temper had vanished. -The day-dream was coming true: the journey to Bucharest, the thanks of -his King, the reward from a grateful Government! Naniescu felt at peace -with all the world. He would even have hugged Peter to his breast. - -"We part the best of friends," he said suavely, "my dear Monsieur -Blakeney." - -"Oh! the very best," Peter assented. - -"And when you come to take possession of Kis-Imre you will command my -services, I hope." - -"I shall not fail to do so." - -"I will see to it that you can do it at the earliest possible moment. By -the way," Naniescu went on with some hesitation, "the furniture--and -other contents of the château--they are not included in the sale, of -course." - -"Of course not." - -"You won't mind the Imreys having those? It might create an unpleasant -impression--if we were to----er----" - -"It might," Peter assented. - -"I was sure you would agree with me about that," Naniescu rejoined -unctuously. "Then what would you like us to do in the matter?" - -"Leave everything as it is until you hear from me again. The British -Consul will look after things for me." - -"Ah!" Naniescu concluded with perfect affability, "then I don't think I -need detain you any longer, my dear young friend. May I express the wish -that you will spend long and happy years in this beautiful country." - -"Thank you." - -Peter did not shake hands with either of the two men, but he caught -Kervoisin's glance and gave him a pleasant nod. To Naniescu he said just -before leaving: - -"I suppose you have realised that Lady Tarkington will probably wish to -start for England immediately." - -"Yes, my dear young friend," Naniescu replied blandly. "I have realised -that, and I have taken measures accordingly. But how kind of you to -remind me!" - -And when Peter finally went out of the room the general, breathless, -perspiring, nerve-racked, threw himself into a chair and exclaimed: - -"_Il n'y a pas à dire!_ They are astonishing, these English!" - -He poured himself out a glass of fine and drank it down at one gulp. - -"Did you ever see such an unmitigated young blackguard?" he exclaimed. - -But de Kervoisin had remained thoughtful. His shrewd, pale eyes were -fixed upon the door through which Peter had just disappeared. Naniescu -had taken his handkerchief and was mopping his streaming forehead and -his neck round the edge of his collar. - -"I feel quite sick," he murmured. "Ah, these English! _mon ami._ You do -not know them as I do. I firmly believe that they would sell their -fathers, their mothers, their sisters, or their wives if they saw money -in the transaction." - -Kervoisin made no comment on this tirade; after a while he asked -abruptly: "What are you doing to prevent the lovely Uno from putting a -spoke in your wheel?" - -Naniescu gave a complacent laugh. - -"Doing?" he retorted. "Why, I've already done everything, my friend. My -courier starts to-night for London with Lady Tarkington's letter and -manuscript. He will be in London on Monday evening. On Tuesday he will -call on the editor of the _Times._ Ostensibly he is Lady Tarkington's -messenger. When he has delivered the letter he will ask for a reply. -That reply he will telegraph to me. Then we shall know where we are." - -He drank another glass of _fine_, then he went on: - -"I have no doubt that the fair Uno has already got her boxes packed and -is ready to start for England by the express to-night, but----" - -Naniescu paused. He stretched out his legs, examined the toes of his -boots and the smoke of his cigar; his face wore an expression of fatuous -self-satisfaction. "I think," he said, "that you will be surprised at -what I have done in the time. And so will the fair Uno," he added with -an expressive twinkle in his fine, dark eyes. - -"What about friend Number Ten?" Kervoisin remarked dryly. - -"Well," Naniescu retorted with his affected smile, "I imagine that -friend Number Ten will be the most surprised of the lot." - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVI - - -At Kis-Imre the day dragged on leaden-footed. Luncheon, then a long -afternoon, then dinner. Time wore on and Elza had not returned. - -Rosemary was ready, dressed for the journey; her suit-case was packed. -She was only taking a very little luggage with her as she had every -intention of returning as soon as her errand in London was accomplished. -She would not for the world have left Elza alone too long with her -troubles. She made herself no illusions with regard to the telegram -which she had sent from the village. It would, she was sure, be -intercepted, and Naniescu would not allow it to go. Rosemary's intention -was to send another directly she was the other side of the frontier. -This would prevent the articles being published hurriedly, and, of -course, she would be in London thirty-six hours later. - -Indeed, the odious deed which Peter had planned and carried through -appeared to her now not only in its hideousness but in its futility. -What did he hope to accomplish? Did he know her so little as to imagine -that she would merely call the occurrence an adverse blow of Fate and -quietly sit down under it, be content to send one wire which would be -intercepted? It was futile! Futile! She was a British subject. She had a -British passport. No power on earth could stop her from going to London -or to the outermost ends of the earth if she had a mind. No one. Not -even Jasper. Least of all Jasper! - -But in the meanwhile Elza had not returned. Time went on, slowly but -certainly. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock--ten o'clock. Unless Elza was -home within the next half-hour Rosemary could not start for London -before the next night. There was only one through train to Budapest -every twenty-four hours, the midnight express! Any other slow train -would be no help for getting the communication with the Orient Express. - -And Rosemary could not go to London without knowing what Elza's wishes -were. Elza was to decide--not she. And Elza had not come home. Soon -after ten o'clock Rosemary sent Rosa round to Maurus' apartments to ask -if she might see him. She hoped that he could perhaps tell her something -definite about Elza's movements. Rosemary found him very much altered -since last she had seen him. He looked well in health, but his whole -expression, even his appearance, seemed strange. The gipsy strain was -more apparent, the eyes seemed darker and more restless, the mouth -redder and fuller, and the nose more hooked and narrower across the -bridge. But he talked very quietly and rationally with Rosemary. He was -not anxious about Elza, because he had not really expected to see her -back this evening. - -"She was going to Cluj first," he said, "to see Philip and Anna. -Probably it took time to get permission to visit the children in prison. -Then after that she was going to Ujlak. I suppose she wanted to let -Charlotte know how little Anna is getting on. Poor child! Poor child!" -Maurus went on slowly, wagging his head. "Isn't it pitiable? She is such -a nice little girl. And my Philip--my Philip----" - -He rambled on, and his speech became thick and unintelligible. The -sister in charge gave Rosemary a hint that it would be better for her to -go. Rosemary rose at once. - -"Well, my dear Maurus," she said, "I don't want to tire you. I thought -perhaps you might know something definite about Elza. But if you are not -anxious about her I am sure it is all right." - -"Oh, yes, yes, it is all right. You see, she went to visit the children. -Then she was going to Ujlak. It is a long way for the horses----" - -"You don't think she would stay in Cluj for the night?" - -"I don't know. I don't know. She was going to Cluj first to see the -children--then she was going to Ujlak. It is a long way for the -horses--Elza will stay with Charlotte for the night. A hard woman, -Charlotte. But Anna is such a nice child. And my Philip--my Philip----" - -The mind was obviously wandering. Maurus, while he spoke, was staring -straight out before him. Rosemary tried to explain to him that she had -to go away on business for a day or two and had hoped to start this -evening, but she could not go, of course, without seeing Elza first. - -"Ah! you are going away, dear Lady Tarkington?" the invalid said with a -quick gleam in his restless, dark eyes. "I wish I could go with you. I -am so sick of this place, and now that my Philip has gone. . . . But how -can you go to-night, dear Lady Tarkington?" - -"I won't go before I have seen Elza." - -"No, no, you must not go before Elza comes. I have only the one -comfortable carriage now. They lave taken everything from me, my horses, -my cattle, my carriages, and my motor-cars--I can't send you to Cluj in -comfort until Elza comes back in the carriage--I have another pair of -horses--but no comfortable carriage. They took everything away from me. -Soon they will turn me out of this house----" - -"Don't worry about that, dear, my husband has the use of a small car and -a soldier-chauffeur. We can get to Cluj all right." - -The sister in charge interposed again, more peremptorily this time. -Rosemary took as cheerful a farewell of the invalid as she could. - -"You must arrange," she said, "as soon as you are well enough, to come -over to us in England for a visit. It would be such a change for you, -and Jasper and I would make you and Elza very welcome." - -But Maurus shook his head, and stared straight out before him. "That, -dear Lady Tarkington," he said, "can never be now." And slowly the tears -gathered in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Broken-hearted, -Rosemary bade him a final good night. - -There was only one more chance of getting in touch with Elza to-night, -and that was to ascertain if she were staying at any of the hotels in -Cluj. And this Jasper did at Rosemary's request. He telephoned to the -"Pannonia" and to the "New York," the only possible places where Elza -might have put up for the night. True, when the Roumanian Government -took over the Imrey palace two or three rooms were allowed to remain in -possession of the family if they required them, but it was not likely -that Elza would elect to sleep under the same roof as General Naniescu. -Both hotels replied on the telephone that the gracious Countess Imrey -was not there. Ujlak, unfortunately, had not the telephone installed. - -There was then nothing to be done. - -But the next day was even more trying than the one before. The morning -wore on and there was no news of Elza. Anxiety for her friend was added -to the heavy load which Rosemary had to bear. Anxiety and this -unexpected uncertainty, which was positive torture. - -Jasper, on the other hand, had become both helpful and sympathetic. -Already the day before he had announced his intention of accompanying -Rosemary to London. At first she had protested, but he looked so -contrite and so abashed that she relented, and said more graciously: - -"It is more than kind of you, dear, to suggest it, but I really am quite -capable of looking after myself." - -"I don't doubt it," he had replied with a sigh, "but I, too, have -certain privileges, chief of which is looking after your welfare--and -your safety." - -She laughed. "I am perfectly safe. No one is going to run away with me." - -"You might have trouble on the frontier." - -"Not very likely," she retorted, "with a British passport." - -Jasper had made no further remark just then, and the subject was -dropped. But Rosemary knew from his manner and his look that he intended -to accompany her. It would be no use protesting, though she had the -feeling that she would so much rather have travelled alone. - -But when the morning of the next day went by without news of Elza, -Jasper was ready with a fresh suggestion. "Let me go to London for you," -he said. "I could see the editor of the _Times_ and ask him in any case -to withhold publication until he heard from you. Then after that if -Elza's decision went the other way, you could always wire or write -again." - -Rosemary hesitated for a moment or two. She could not very well put into -words the thought that was in her mind. But Jasper presently did it for -her. - -"You do not trust me," he said quietly. - -For another fraction of a second she hesitated, then with a frank -gesture of camaraderie she put her hand out to him: "I think I ought to -carry my own business through myself," she said, and added softly: "You -understand, dear, don't you?" - -She could always win any man over with her smile, and at the soft tone -of her voice Jasper captured her hand and buried his face in the soft, -smooth palm. - -"Tell me how I can serve you," he said, "but in God's name don't go away -from me." - -He was once more all kindness and consideration, more like the charming -companion of the early days of her brief married life. With utmost -patience he discussed the whole situation with her: the possibility of -getting in touch with Elza and the advisability of communicating with -the _Times_ in any case, leaving it open for an ultimate change of -tactics. - -But though he was so kind, so unselfish, so generous, Rosemary could not -respond in the same way as she had done in the past. Her confidence in -him had been wavering for some time, whenever those wild outbursts of -ungovernable passion, when he claimed her body and her soul as he would -a slave or a chattel, had outraged as well as mystified her, and she -could not free her mind from that vision which she had of him in the -mirror yesterday, with his mouth parted in a cruel, wolfish grin. The -dual nature in him puzzled her. She would not admit that she feared him, -because she had never in her life been afraid of any one, but she did -own to a certain vague dread which would creep into her heart whenever -she found herself alone with him; she had accepted his kisses at first, -hoping that in time friendship and confidence would turn to warmer -feeling, but she had a horror of them now, and knew that the last shred -of friendship was being torn to rags by all that was violent, passionate -and cruel in him. At the same time she did admit quite readily that he -was very helpful and kind in the present emergency, and gladly did she -accept his final offer to motor straightway to Cluj to see if he could -find out something definite about Elza. - -"If she was not at Cluj," he said, "I would go on to Ujlak; and, in any -case, I can be back by about eight o'clock. If in the meanwhile, as I -hope and think, Elza has turned up, we can make our plans in accordance -with what she has decided, and either start for England at once, or -leave matters as they stand." - -The suggestion was so practical that Rosemary felt really grateful. She -walked with him to the village where he garaged the car that Naniescu -had lent him. It was a powerful little car, of a well-known French make -and built for speed. The soldier-chauffeur was fortunately on the spot, -and with a friendly handshake Rosemary wished her husband God-speed. - -"I don't know how I shall live through this day!" she said to him at the -last. - -Jasper was very self-contained and practical. He satisfied himself that -everything about the car was in order, then only did he get in. He took -the wheel and waved Rosemary a last farewell, and very soon the car -disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVII - - -General Naniescu was enjoying himself thoroughly. He had his friend -Number Ten sitting there opposite him, and Number Ten was looking as -savage as a bear. Naniescu had offered him a cigar, a glass of fine, -even whiskey and soda, but Number Ten had declined everything and -remained very truculent. - -"You had no right," he said, with a savage oath, "to go behind my back." - -But Naniescu was at his blandest. "What could I do, my dear friend?" he -asked, and waved his white, downy hands to emphasise by appropriate -gesture, both his perplexity and his contrition. "What would you have -had me do? Decline to deal with that young Blakeney? Then those precious -articles would have been lost to me for ever. Lady Tarkington would not -have written them all over again." - -"I told you the other day that I would get those articles for you. Ask -M. de Kervoisin here if I have ever failed in anything I have -undertaken. I had the manuscript in my hand when that young blackguard -snatched it out of my hand. Curse him!" - -Naniescu leaned back in his chair and gave a guttural, complacent laugh: -"I do agree with you, my dear friend," he said. "That young Blakeney is -an unmitigated blackguard. I have had to deal with some in my day, but -never with such a corrupt, dirty scoundrel. Yes, dirty, that's what he -is. But you know, you English, you are astonishing! Everything big with -you--big fellows, big Empire, big money, big blackguards! Yes, big -blackguards! Oh, là, là!" - -"Yes," Number Ten assented dryly. "And the big blackguard who is also a -big fellow, got big money out of you, for you have been a fool, as well -as a knave, my friend. I only asked you ten thousand sterling for the -manuscript." - -"Are you pretending that you know what I paid Blakeney?" Naniescu asked, -with his most fatuous smile. "Because, my friend, in picturesque poker -parlance--I am very fond of a game of poker myself--and in poker -language we call what you are doing now 'bluff.' You don't know what I -paid Blakeney for the manuscript. But I don't mind telling you that I -paid nothing at all. Yes, my dear friend, nothing at all." - -And with the tip of his well-manicured little finger, Naniescu -emphasised every syllable with a tap on the table. - -"I am glad to hear it," Number Ten retorted curtly, "because that will -make it easier for you to pay me the ten thousand now." - -But this idea amused the General so much that he nearly rolled off his -chair laughing. - -"_Ils sont impayables ces Anglais!_" he said, when with streaming eyes -and scanty breath he found words to express his sense of the ludicrous. -"Why in the name of Tophet should I pay you ten thousand pounds -sterling?" - -"Because if you don't, those newspaper articles will never be -published." - -"Ah, bah!" Naniescu exclaimed, with a mocking grin, "who will prevent -it?" - -"I, of course." - -"You, of course? How, I should like to know?" - -"That's my business." - -"You can't do it, my friend," Naniescu rejoined complacently. "You can't -do it. I defy you to do it." - -"Is that a challenge?" - -Number Ten had said this very quietly. He was in the act of lighting a -cigarette when he spoke, and he finished lighting it, blew out the -match, and threw it into the nearest ash-tray before he glanced at -Naniescu. Then he smiled, because Naniescu's face expressed arrogance -first, then bewilderment, and finally indecision. - -"Is it a challenge?" he reiterated sardonically. "I don't mind, you know, -one way or the other. There are at least three governments--neighbours -of yours, by the way--who will pay me ten thousand pounds apiece -for certain services which they require, and which I can render them. -But you have behaved like a knave and a fool, my friend, and it will -amuse me to punish you. So listen to me! Unless you give me a cheque -for the ten thousand pounds which you promised me, and which I can -cash at your fusty old bank over the way this very afternoon, I -guarantee you that Lady Tarkington's articles will not be published -in any English newspaper." - -He smoked on in silence for a little while longer, blowing rings of -smoke through his pursed lips, and in the intervals laughing softly, -mockingly to himself, or throwing an occasional glance of intelligence -in the direction of Kervoisin, who apparently immersed in a book had -taken no part in the conversation. Naniescu's bewilderment had become -ludicrous, and at one moment when he took his perfumed handkerchief out -of his pocket and mopped his streaming forehead, the face of his -spy-in-chief became distorted with that look of ferocious cruelty which -was so characteristic of him. - -"I haven't a great deal of time to spare," Number Ten remarked dryly, -after a few minutes' silence; "if you accept my challenge I start for -London to-night." - -"You'll never get there in time," Naniescu rejoined, with an attempt at -swagger. - -Number Ten smiled. "Don't you think so?" he asked simply. - -"The frontier is closed----" - -"Would you rather risk it than pay me the ten thousand pounds?" - -Naniescu appealed to his friend. - -"De Kervoisin----" he said, almost pitiably. - -But M. de Kervoisin, with a shrug, indicated that this was no concern of -his. - -"M. de Kervoisin," Number Ten said, still smiling, "knows my methods. -During the war I had other and more dangerous frontiers to cross than -this one, my friend--and I never failed." - -In Naniescu's puny mind, obviously a war was waging between greed and -avarice. He was seeing his beautiful day-dream vanishing into the -intangible ether--whence come all dreams--and he was not prepared to -take any risks. Those articles which a reliable courier was even now -taking to London with all speed were the most precious things he, -Naniescu, had ever possessed. They meant honour, security, money--far -more money than Number Ten was demanding with such outrageous impudence. -And Naniescu was afraid of Number Ten, afraid of his daring, his -courage, his unscrupulous determination to carry through what he had set -out to do. - -Ten thousand pounds! It was a great deal, but it would come out of -secret service funds, not out of Naniescu's own pocket. There was only -that slight tickling of one's amour propre to subdue. The desire to get -the better of Number Ten, to win this battle of wits against so crafty -an opponent. But what was _amour propre_ when weighed in the balance -with the realisation of Naniescu's wonderful day-dreams? - -Nevertheless he made one more effort at a bargain. - -"If I pay you that ten thousand," he said, with a savage oath, "what -guarantee have I that the articles _will_ be published?" - -"None," was Number Ten's cool reply; "but if you don't pay me the ten -thousand, I guarantee that they will _not_ be published." - -At which M. de Kervoisin put down his book and indulged in a good laugh. - -"Take care, my friend," he said to Number Ten, "our friend here is -beginning to lose his temper, and you may find yourself under lock and -key before he has done with you." - -"I wonder!" Number Ten retorted dryly. "It would mean raising hell in -the English press, wouldn't it? if a British subject--what?" - -He did not pursue the subject. Even Naniescu himself had put such a -possibility out of his reckoning. - -"All that our friend could do," Number Ten went on, speaking over his -shoulder to M. de Kervoisin, "would be to have me murdered, but he would -find even that rather difficult. Ten thousand pounds of secret service -money is considerably safer--and cheaper in the end." - -Then at last Naniescu gave in. "Oh, have it your own way, curse you!" he -exclaimed. - -"The money now," Number Ten said coolly, raising a warning finger. "You -may as well send one of your clerks over to the bank for it. I prefer -that to taking your cheque." - -Then he turned to Kervoisin, and picked up the book which the latter had -thrown down on the table. "Ah!" he remarked, with a total change of -tone, "Marcel Proust's latest. You are an epicure in literature, my -friend." - -He fingered the book, seemingly as indifferent to what Naniescu was -doing and saying, as if the whole matter of a ten thousand pound cheque -did not concern him in the least. - -The general had gone across to a desk which stood in the farther corner -of the room. He had written out a cheque, rung the bell, and was now -giving orders to a clerk to fetch the money from the Anglo-Roumanian -bank over the way. - -On the whole he was not displeased with the transaction. The articles -signed by Uno and published in the _Times_ would redound to his credit, -would bring him all that he had striven for all his life; and, after -all, they would cost him nothing--nothing at all. - -Number Ten and de Kervoisin were discussing Marcel Proust; he, Naniescu, -was savouring his day-dreams once again; and presently when the clerk -returned with a bundle of crisp English bank-notes in his hand, Naniescu -handed the money over to his spy-in-chief, without a qualm, and -certainly without regret. - -"This being Monday," Number Ten said, after he had stowed the money away -in his pocket-book, "and your courier having started last night, you -will probably see the first of the articles in Thursday's _Times._ By -the way," he went on casually, "what are you doing about young Imrey and -the girl?" - -"What do you mean by that? What should I be doing with them?" - -"Well, when these articles appear----" - -"I send them packing, _c'est entendu._ I never go back on my word," -Naniescu said, with a grandiose gesture. - -"It would not pay you to do that in this case, my friend. Lady -Tarkington has your written promise, and she would raise hell if you -played her false. But I wasn't thinking of that. I only wished to warn -you to keep an eye on those two young firebrands." - -"Oh," Naniescu retorted, with a shrug, "once I have them out of the -country they can do what they like. They no longer hurt me. Especially -after the publication of those beautiful articles." - -"That is so, but you are sending Count and Countess Imrey out of the -country, aren't you?" - -"What makes you say that?" - -"Well, you paid Blakeney for the articles with the title deeds of -Kis-Imre, didn't you?" - -"How did you know that?" - -"I didn't," Number Ten replied dryly. "I guessed, and you gave yourself -away." - -"Well, and if I did--what is it to you?" - -"Nothing, my friend. Nothing. I come back to my original warning. Keep a -close eye on young Imrey and Anna Heves, and above all keep a close eye -on Blakeney." - -"That young blackguard?" - -"Yes, that young blackguard! He may be playing a double game, you know. -I suppose he is still in Cluj?" - -"I thought of that," Naniescu broke in curtly, "so I have had Imrey and -the Heves girl transferred to Sót." - -"Sót? Isn't that rather near the frontier?" - -"Thirty kilomètres." - -"But why Sót?" - -"We have commandeered a château there, which we use as a prison for -political offenders. We chose it because it stands alone in an -out-of-the-way part of the country, and it saves the nuisance of public -manifestations and disturbances when a prisoner who happens to have been -popular is condemned. We try them by a military tribunal which holds its -sittings at Sót, and if an execution is imperative--well, it is done -without any fuss." - -"I see. Well," Number Ten went on, as he rose to take his leave, "I need -not detain you any longer. Let me assure you," he concluded, with his -habitual sardonic smile, "that I shall not now think of interfering with -any of the measures which you have adopted to stop Lady Tarkington from -running after her manuscript." - -"I don't believe that you could have interfered in any case," Naniescu -retorted gruffly. - -"It is not too late, my friend. I would rather like to pit my wits -against yours. So if you have repented of the bargain----" And Number -Ten half drew his bulging pocket-book out of his pocket. - -"Oh, go to the devil!" Naniescu exclaimed, half in rage and half in -laughter. - -"And I hope soon to meet you in his company," Number Ten replied, as he -finally took his leave from the two men. - -As soon as the door had closed on him, Naniescu turned and looked at his -friend. But de Kervoisin had picked up his book, and gave him no -encouragement to discuss the intriguing personality of Number Ten. His -face, too, was quite inscrutable. Marcel Proust was engaging his full -attention. For a moment it seemed as if Naniescu would fall back on his -stock phrase, or else on a string of cosmopolitan oaths; he even drew -his breath ready for either; then it seemed as if words failed him. - -The intriguing personality was above comment. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXVIII - - -Rosemary had never before welcomed her husband so eagerly as she did -that afternoon. As soon as she heard the whirring of his motor she ran -to the gates to meet him. - -"What news?" she cried when he had brought the car to a standstill. - -As usual, his dark eyes flashed with joy when he saw her. He jumped down -and raised both her hands to his lips. - -"Very vague, I am afraid," he replied. "And some of it a mere -conjecture." - -"Tell me." - -"To begin with, young Imrey and Anna Heves have been transferred to -Sót." - -"Where is that?" - -"Between Cluj and the frontier. It seems that there is a château there -that is being used as a prison for political offenders." - -"Who told you that?" - -"Naniescu. I saw him for a moment. He was very busily engaged with the -Minister for Home Affairs who was over from Bucharest, so he could only -give me a few minutes." - -"Had he seen Elza?" - -"No. But she had applied for permission to see Philip and Anna, and he -gave the permission. He supposed that she had gone on to Sót by train." - -"Even so," Rosemary mused, "she would be back by now, or else she would -have wired." - -Jasper appeared to hesitate for a moment or two, and then he said: "I -don't think that she has been allowed to do either." - -"Why not?" - -"It is mere surmise, my dear," Jasper went on quietly, "but one thing -Naniescu did tell me, and that was that he had on behalf of his -government definitely made over the Kis-Imre estates to Peter Blakeney." - -They were walking round the house towards the veranda when he said this. -Rosemary made no response; indeed, it might be thought that she had not -heard, for the next question which she put to Jasper appeared -irrelevant. - -"Does the midnight express stop at Sót?" - -"It does," Jasper replied. - -"Then I can see Elza there. I am sure that is where she is. You inquired -at Ujlak?" - -"Yes, Elza went there first and then to Cluj." - -They had reached the veranda now, and Rosemary went up the steps and -then into the house. - -"You still wish to come with me to-night?" she asked her husband before -she went upstairs. - -"Why, of course." - -"You are not too tired after all this running about?" - -"I?" he exclaimed with a laugh. "Tired? When it is a question of being -near you!" - -He tried to capture her wrist, but she evaded him and ran quickly -through the hall and up the stairs. Before going into her room she -called down to him: - -"If we use your motor we need not start before eleven o'clock, and there -is still a chance of Elza being home before then." - -It was just before dinner that the culminating tragedy occurred. -Rosemary was in her room, when she heard loud commotion coming from the -hall--harsh, peremptory voices, a word or two from Anton, and then -Jasper's voice raised as if in protest. She opened her door, and to her -horror saw a squad of soldiers in the hall, and between them an officer, -and a man in civilian clothes who had an official-looking paper in his -hand and was apparently explaining something to Jasper. - -"I regret, my lord, but these are my orders," the man was saying, "and I -cannot enter into any discussion with you." - -Jasper tried to protest again. "But surely----" he began. The man, -however, cut him short. - -"If you like," he said, "I can allow you to see Count Imrey first, but -this order I must deliver into his own hands." - -Rosemary in the meanwhile had run downstairs. - -"What is it, Jasper?" she asked quickly. - -"An order of eviction," Jasper replied curtly, "against that wretched -Maurus." - -"Whatever does that mean?" - -"That he must quit this place within twenty-four hours." - -"Impossible!" she exclaimed hotly. - -She turned to the officer and the civilian who had brought this -monstrous order. - -"The whole thing is a mistake," she said coolly; "some error in the -name. Count Imrey is a loyal subject of the King. There has never been a -hint of disloyalty levelled against him." - -The officer in charge gave a curt laugh and shrugged his shoulders, and -the civilian said with a sneer: - -"They all say that, milady. They are all wonderfully loyal after they -have been found out." - -"But General Naniescu himself is a friend of the family. And Lord -Tarkington and I can vouch----" - -"Pardon, milady," the civilian broke in coldly. "This affair does not -concern you or Lord Tarkington, and the order of eviction is signed on -behalf of the present owner of Kis-Imre by His Excellency the Governor -himself." - -"On behalf----" - -It was Rosemary who spoke, but the sound of her voice might have come -out of a grave. She had never been so near to swooning in her life. The -walls around her, the woodwork, the stairs, all took on distorted -shapes, and moved, round and round and up and down, until everything was -a blur through which the faces of the Roumanian officer and the civilian -stared at her and grinned. "On behalf of the present owner of Kis-Imre!" -But that was Peter! Peter! And the world did not totter, the earth did -not quake, and engulf all these monstrous crimes, this cruelty and this -shame. - -Luckily none of the Roumanians appeared to have noticed this sudden -weakness in her; the civilian was consulting with the officer whether he -should allow milord Tarkington to break the awful news to Maurus. -Neither raised any objection, and Jasper pronounced himself ready to go. -Rosemary turned appealingly to him: - -"You will be very patient, Jasper," she begged, "and very, very gentle?" - -"Leave it to me, dear," he responded; "I'll do my best." - -When he was gone, Rosemary mechanically asked the officer and his -companion to come into the smoking-room and sit down. She offered -cigarettes. They made her ceremonious bows, and were as polite and -conventional as circumstances demanded. She tried to talk; she even -asked questions; but they were diplomatically ignorant of everything -except of their duty. They explained that this consisted in seeing Count -Imrey personally, and giving the eviction order into his own hands. - -"It will kill him," Rosemary said, with conviction, "or else send him -out of his mind." - -Both the men shrugged. They had seen so much of this sort of thing, one -of them said, people always threatened to die or to go mad, but nothing -of the sort had ever happened. - -"Are you quite sure of that?" Rosemary retorted. - -Somehow the episode had brought back into the forefront of her -consciousness her responsibility with regard to her newspaper articles. -Not that conscience had been dormant, but Peter's infamy had been such -an overwhelming shock that every other emotion had slipped away into the -background. But now it all came back to her. Those articles of hers if -they were published would be a justification of all this--of these -orders of eviction, the sort of thing that men died of, or went mad over -out of grief, while officials shrugged their shoulders, having seen it -all so often. - -A few minutes after Jasper returned and Maurus was with him. At sight of -Maurus Rosemary had risen from her chair as if drawn up by mechanical -force, and she remained standing, staring at the man whom she had last -seen as a fragile weakling, babbling incoherent words. Maurus had -dressed himself with unusual care. It almost seemed as if he had been -expecting visitors. Rosemary had never seen him with hair so sleekly -brushed, or chin so smooth. The officer and the civilian had risen to -greet him, and he went up to them with perfect calm, inquiring politely -what they desired to say to him. Rosemary turned a questioning glance on -Jasper. He, too, appeared puzzled, and followed Maurus' every movement -as if he dreaded that something would happen presently, and all the -man's self-possession disintegrate in a tempest of fury. - -But nothing of the sort happened. Maurus took the order from the -civilian, and read it through carefully. Not a muscle of his face -twitched, and his hands were perfectly steady. For the moment Rosemary -wondered whether this outward calm was not some form of madness. - -"I can't understand it," she whispered to Jasper, while the three men -were engaged together. - -"I am just as puzzled as you are," Jasper replied. "I never thought that -he would take it like that." - -"So long as he is not just putting a terrible strain on himself--in -which case the reaction will be frightful." - -Maurus was now taking leave of the officials. - -"I quite understand the position," he said quietly. "If I had bought a -house, I, too, would wish to take possession of it as soon as possible. -Perhaps," he added, with a smile, "I should not have been quite in such -a hurry, but we all know that with the English time is money, eh, -messieurs? And now all I need do is to thank you for your courtesy. I -will comply with the order, chiefly because I have no choice." - -It was almost unbelievable. Rosemary thought that her eyes and ears must -be playing her a trick. The two Roumanians took their leave with their -habitual elaborate politeness and Maurus himself saw them to his front -door, where the squad of soldiers still stood at attention. When they -had all gone, he came back into the smoking-room, and he was actually -laughing when he entered. - -"Did you ever see such swine?" he said lightly, and then apologised to -Rosemary for his language. - -"You are taking it so bravely, Maurus dear," Rosemary murmured -bewildered. "But what about Elza?" - -"Oh, she prepared me for it; she knew all about it yesterday, and she -sent me word what to bring along in the way of clothes for her. And, of -course, there will be her jewellery, and one or two little things to see -to. However, I have got twenty-four hours before me, and there will be -Anton and Rosa to help me." - -"But, Maurus dear----" - -"You are astonished, dear Lady Tarkington," Maurus broke in, with rather -a sad smile, "to see me take it all so calmly. I was born in this house, -and I always thought that I would die in it; but lately these walls have -seen so much sorrow and so many villainies that I would just as soon -turn my back on them." - -"But what does Elza feel about it?" - -"The same as I do. She writes quite calmly." - -"When did you hear from her?" - -"Early this afternoon, so you see I was prepared." - -"But where is she?" Rosemary asked insistently. - -"She was at Sót when she wrote to me. She had seen Philip and Anna. And -she was on the point of leaving for Hódmezö. This was late last night. -She is in Hungary by now--and in safety. Please God I shall be with her -soon." - -He still spoke quite quietly, in short, crisp sentences, with nothing of -the rambling and babbling about his speech that had been so pathetic to -witness yesterday. But though Rosemary ought to have felt reassured and -comforted about him, she could not rid herself of a persistent feeling -of dread: the same sort of feeling that invades the nerves at the -manifestation of a supernatural phenomenon. There was nothing -supernatural about Maurus certainly, but his attitude was so abnormal, -so unlike himself, that Rosemary caught herself watching with -ever-increasing anxiety for the moment when his real, violent nature -would reassert itself. - -A moment or two later the dinner-bell rang, and Maurus was full of -apologies. - -"My stupid affairs have prevented your getting on with your packing, -dear Lady Tarkington. Can you forgive me?" - -Rosemary could only assure him that all her packing was done. "And, -anyway," she added, "as Jasper has a car we need not start before eleven -o'clock." - -"Ah, then," Maurus said, and offered her his arm to lead her into the -dining-room, "we need not hurry over dinner; and I shall have the -pleasure of two or three more hours of your company." - -Jasper all the while had been strangely silent. Rosemary could see that -he was just as much puzzled as she was, and that he was studying Maurus -very keenly while the latter was talking. During dinner and while the -servants were about, the conversation drifted to indifferent subjects. -This was the first time that Maurus had had a meal in the dining-room -since he was taken ill four days ago, and he was like a child enjoying -his food, and delighted with everything. It was only when coffee had -been brought in and the servants had gone away that he reverted to the -important subject of his departure. - -"My chief cause of regret, dear Lady Tarkington," he said, "is that I -cannot welcome you here when you return from your journey. But perhaps -we could meet at Budapest, not? Elza speaks about that in her letter to -me. She is very anxious to see you." - -"I shall break my journey at Hódmezö," Rosemary said, "and probably -wait there twenty-four hours till you come." - -She had it in her mind that she could wire from there to the _Times_ -office, and in any case she had to see Elza. - -"There are two good hotels in Hódmezö," Maurus rejoined. "Elza is -staying at the Bristol. A very grand name for a simple provincial hotel, -but it is very comfortable, I believe. Peter Blakeney's cricket people -stayed there last week, you know." - -He even could mention Peter's name calmly; and a quaint old English -saying came to Rosemary's mind, one that she was fond of repeating in -past days whenever her professional activities brought her in contact -with extraordinary people. "Nought so queer as folk!" She almost said it -aloud; for never in all her life had she witnessed anything so strange -as this metamorphosis of a violent-tempered, morbid epileptic into a -calm, sensible man of the world, who takes things as he finds them, and -Fate's heaviest blows without wearing his heart on his sleeve. - -"I shall not forget the Bristol at Hódmezö," she said, after a little -while, "and I will certainly remain with Elza until you come. Perhaps I -can help her to endure the suspense." - -"Perhaps." - -"How did her letter get to you? Through the post?" - -"No; she tent a peasant over from Sót, a lad who lives in Kis-Imre, and -was returning home. You know him, dear Lady Tarkington--him and his -brother--the two sons of Jànos the miller." - -"Those two brave lads who----" - -Rosemary paused abruptly. The last thing she wanted to do was to bring -back to Maurus' memory that fateful night of the children's abortive -escape; but Maurus himself broke in quietly: - -"Yes, the two fellows who helped us all they could that night when -Philip and Anna tried to get out of the country. The attempt was -unsuccessful, as you know. Philip and Anna were captured. They are in -Sót now. But the two sons of Jànos--I forget their names--got over the -frontier safely. They joined the cricketers at Hódmezö, and are safely -back at the mill now." - -"Thank God," Rosemary exclaimed fervently, "they did not suffer for -their devotion." - -"No, I am glad of that," Maurus concluded, with obvious indifference. -"But the authorities don't trouble about the peasants. It is the landed -aristocracy and the professional classes who have to suffer, if they -belong to the conquered race." - -It was past ten o'clock before the small party broke up. During the -latter part of the time it had been Rosemary's turn to become silent. -Maurus started the subject of politics, and Jasper carried on a -desultory argument with him on that inexhaustible question. In almost -weird contrast to his previous calmness, Maurus' violent temper broke -out once or twice during the course of the discussion, and it needed all -Jasper's tact and Rosemary's soothing influence to steer clear of all -that tended to aggravate him. It was the real man peeping through the -armour of all the previous unnatural self-control, the gipsy blood -reasserting itself--self-willed, obstinate, impatient of control, bitter -against humiliation. Rosemary almost welcomed the change when it came. -It was more like the Maurus she knew--a man eccentric and violent, -walking close to, but not overstepping the borderland that separates the -sane from the insane. It was only when Philip, or Elza, or Kis-Imre were -mentioned that he seemed to step over that borderland, encased in an -armour of impish indifference. - -The soldier-chauffeur brought the car round at eleven o'clock. Rosemary -took affectionate leave of Maurus. - -"We meet very soon," she said. "In Hungary." - -"Yes," he replied. "In Hungary. I shall be so thankful to be there." - -He also shook hands very cordially with Jasper. - -"I am afraid this has not been a very agreeable stay for you," he said. - -"Better luck next time," Jasper responded, as he settled himself down in -the car beside his wife. - -The car swung out of the gates. Rosemary, looking back, had a last -vision of Maurus, standing under the electric lamp in the porch, his -hand waving a last farewell. - - - - -CHAPTER XXXIX - - -Rosemary must have fallen asleep in the corner of the carriage, for she -woke with a start. The train had come to a halt, as it had done at two -or three stations since Cluj was left behind. So it was not the sudden -jerk or the sound of the exhaust from the engine, that had caused -Rosemary suddenly to sit up straight, wide-awake and with that vague -feeling of apprehension which comes on waking when sleep has been -unconsciousness rather than rest. Jasper sat in the other corner with -eyes closed, but Rosemary did not think that he was asleep. They had a -sleeping compartment, but hadn't had the beds made up; it was perhaps -less restful for the night journey, but distinctly cleaner. The carriage -was in semi-darkness, only a feeble ray of blue light filtered through -the shade that tempered the gas-light up above. - -Rosemary pulled up the blind. They were at a small station dimly lighted -by one oil-lamp above the exit door. A clump of acacia trees in full -leaf effectually hid the name of the station from view. A couple of -soldiers stood at the door through which a number of peasants, men with -bundles and women with baskets, one or two Jews in long gabardines and -a prosperous looking farmer in town clothes and top-boots were filing -out. Some one blew a tin-trumpet, a couple more soldiers stalked up the -line in the direction of the engine. There was a good deal of shouting. - -Rosemary drew the blind down again, and tried to settle herself -comfortably in her corner once more. But sleep would not come. She -looked at her watch. It was past two. This seemed an unconscionably long -halt, even for a train in this part of the world. Rosemary peeped again -behind the blind. The station appeared quite deserted now except for the -two soldiers on guard at the door. Everything seemed very still--of that -peculiar stillness which always seems so deep when a train comes to a -halt during the night away from a busy station, and all the more deep by -contrast with the previous ceaseless rumbling of the wheels. From the -direction of the engine there came the sound of two men talking. -Otherwise nothing. - -Rosemary reckoned that they should be over the frontier soon, but, of -course, if they were going to have these interminable halts---- - -Half an hour went by. Even the distant hum of conversation had ceased, -and the silence was absolute. Feeling unaccountably agitated rather than -nervous, Rosemary called to Jasper. At once he opened his eyes. - -"What is it, my dear?" he asked vaguely. "Where are we?" And he added, -with a shake of his long, lean body: "These carriages are deuced -uncomfortable." - -"We are at a small station, Jasper," Rosemary said. "And we've been here -over half an hour. Have you been asleep?" - -"I remember this confounded train pulling up. I must have dropped off to -sleep after that. I wonder where we are." - -"We can't be very far from the frontier. I thought at first they would -turn us out for the customs, or passports or something. But nothing has -happened, and we don't seem to be getting on. I do hope there has not -been a breakdown on the line." - -"My dear!" Jasper exclaimed, rather impatiently, "why in the world -should you think that there is a breakdown on the line? There's a signal -against us, I suppose. That's all." - -But Rosemary was not satisfied. "Do you mind," she said, "seeing if you -can get hold of anybody. I can't help feeling nervous and----" - -At once Jasper was on his feet, courteous, attentive as always. "Of -course I'll go and see, my darling," he said. "But it's not like you to -be nervous." - -He drew back the shade so as to get a little light into the carriage, -straightened his clothes, then went out into the corridor. Everything -was so still that Rosemary could hear his footsteps treading the -well-worn strip of carpet, then the opening of the carriage door, which -sent a welcome draught of air through the stuffy compartment. Rosemary -pulled up the blind, and leaned out of the window. It was pitch-dark, -though the sky was starry. The small oil-lamp still flickered over the -exit door, and the two soldiers were still there. Rosemary saw Jasper's -vague silhouette in the gloom. He stood for a moment looking up and down -the line; then he walked away in the direction of the engine. A few -minutes went by, and presently Rosemary saw Jasper coming back, -accompanied by the guard. - -"What is it, Jasper?" she called. "Where are we, and what has happened?" - -The two men had come to a halt immediately beneath her window. The guard -doffed his cap at sight of her, and scratched his head in obvious -perplexity. - -"We are at Sót, my darling, but I have bad news for you, I am afraid," -Jasper said. "There has been a very serious landslide lower down the -line. I suppose it is due to the heavy storms. Anyway, the line is -blocked for a distance of nearly half a kilomètre, and of course there -will be considerable delay. I don't understand all the man says, but it -seems to have been a terrible catastrophe." - -But out of all this only two words had penetrated Rosemary's -brain--"considerable delay." What did that mean? She asked the guard, -but he only shook his head. He didn't know. He didn't know anything -except that there had been a landslide, and that no train could get -through till the line was clear. He supposed that a gang would come down -in the morning, but he couldn't say. Rosemary wanted to know whether -there would be any other way of continuing the journey, and picking up a -train the other side of the frontier. The guard again shook his head. He -really couldn't say; he was a stranger to these parts, but perhaps in -the morning----He suggested respectfully that the gracious lady should -allow him to make up a couple of beds in two of the sleeping -compartments. There was no one else on the train, so----- - -"No one else on the train?" Rosemary broke in curtly. "What does he -mean, Jasper? There must be other passengers on the train. Where have -they gone to?" - -Jasper put the question to the guard. - -"The last of the passengers got out at this station, gracious lady. When -it was known that the line was blocked this side of the frontier, no one -took a ticket further than Sót." - -"How do you mean? When was it known that the line was blocked?" - -"Before we left Cluj, gracious lady, and so----" - -"But they sold us tickets to Budapest, and said nothing about a -breakdown," Rosemary exclaimed. And then she turned to her husband: -"Jasper, tell me, is this man a fool or a liar, or am I half-witted? You -took our tickets to Budapest. Did the man at the ticket-office say -anything to you about a block on the line?" - -"No," Jasper replied, "he did not." - -"But our luggage?" - -"We have no registered luggage--only what we have with us in the -carriage." - -"Of course, how stupid of me! But when the man clipped your ticket?" - -"He didn't say anything." - -Rosemary, impatient, her nerves on edge, turned again to the guard. "You -saw the gracious gentleman's tickets," she said, "when we got into the -train. Why didn't you warn us?" - -"I thought perhaps the gracious lady and gentleman would only go as far -as Sot and sleep there. I thought everyone knew about the landslide, and -that every passenger had been warned." - -"Can we get a car here that will take us to Hódmezö?" - -"Not at this hour, gracious lady." - -"Or a vehicle of any sort?" - -The guard shook his head. Rosemary could have screamed with impatience -until Jasper's quiet voice broke in: "I think, my dear, that by far the -best thing to do will be to let the man make up a couple of beds for us, -and to try and possess ourselves in patience until the morning. There is -nothing to be done--really, darling, nothing. And, after all, it may -only mean a delay of eight to ten hours." - -Then, as Rosemary remained silent, making no further objection, he -slipped some money into the guard's hand, and told him to get the beds -ready. After that he re-entered the carriage, and rather diffidently sat -down beside his wife. - -"I feel terribly guilty, dear one," he said humbly, "but you know I -don't speak Roumanian very well, and when these sort of people jabber -away, I don't always understand what they say. And I was rather anxious -about you at Cluj. You seemed so agitated, so unlike yourself." - -"Can you wonder? Twenty-four hours' delay may mean that Naniescu's -courier will get to London and make arrangements before I have time to -wire. I must see Elza first, and in the meanwhile----" - -"My darling," Jasper put in, with a quick, wearied sigh, "it is not like -you to be so illogical. Do you really suppose that events move at such a -rate in a newspaper office? There is bound to be delay--and there's -ample time for your telegram to reach the _Times_ before the editor has -even thought of inserting your articles. Even if we are held up here for -twenty-four hours, you can see Elza and send your wire from Hódmezö -before Peter Blakeney, or whoever Naniescu's courier happens to be, can -possibly have made any arrangements with the _Times._" - -"Of course, dear, of course," Rosemary said, more calmly. "I am stupid -to-night. This whole business has got on my nerves, I suppose. I don't -seem to know what I am doing." - - - - -CHAPTER XL - - -On the narrow made-up bed, with the coarse linen and the heavy blanket, -and the smell of sulphur and dust about her, Rosemary found it quite -impossible to get any rest. At first there had been a good deal of -clumsy shunting, the engine probably had been detached, the tin-trumpet -sounded at intervals, and there was a good deal of shouting; but all -these noises ceased presently, and the night seemed peculiarly still. -Still, but not restful. Rosemary could not sleep. Fortunately the -communicating doors between her compartment and the one which Jasper -occupied were closed, so she felt free to fidget, to get up or to lie -down as the mood seized her, to turn on the light to read or to -meditate, without fear of disturbing him. - -She could not help feeling desperately nervous. Jasper, of course, was -quite right: there was plenty of time in which to see Elza, and then to -send a telegram to London if necessary, so there was nothing in a few -hours' delay to worry about. Nevertheless she, who had always prided -herself on independence and level-headedness, felt a strange kind of -foreboding--something vague and indefinite that nevertheless was -terrifying. She tried to compose herself and could not. She forced -herself into quietude, deliberately kept her eyes closed and her body -still. It was torture, but she did it because she wanted to feel that -she still controlled her nerves, and that she was not giving way to this -stupid sense of fear. - -And there was no denying it; the fear that beset her was on account of -her coming interview with Elza. Maurus' attitude had been very strange, -even abnormal, and it was consequent on a letter from Elza. And -Rosemary, though she had not owned it to herself before, felt a growing -conviction that Elza's lofty patriotism had given way at last to -mother-love. Confronted with Philip and Anna, who no doubt had youth's -passionate desire to live, with Anna's mother who was all for -conciliating the tyrants, and with Maurus whose reason was threatening -to give way, Elza had laid down her arms, had capitulated and decided -that her son's life must be saved at any cost. Perhaps she knew -that Rosemary's articles had fallen into Naniescu's hands, -perhaps she and Peter had actually been in collusion over the theft, -perhaps--perhaps----There was no end to conjecture, and no limit to -Rosemary's dread of what the next four-and-twenty hours would bring. - -Only now did she realise what it had meant to her to place the final -decision into Elza's hands. With it she had given her professional -honour, her very conscience into another woman's keeping. She had -probably only done it because she was so sure of Elza, of Elza's -patriotism and her sense of justice and honour. Poor Elza! Who could -blame her for being weak, for being a mother rather than a patriot? She -should never have been placed before such a cruel alternative. -Self-reproach, the stirrings of conscience helped to aggravate -Rosemary's racking anxiety. She got up in the early dawn, made what -sketchy toilet the limited accommodation allowed, and went out into the -open. The little station appeared quite deserted; only the two soldiers -were still there on duty at the exit door. Rosemary marvelled if they -were the same two who had been there during the night. They looked -perfectly stolid, unwashed and slouchy in their faded, coarse-looking -uniforms and dusty boots and képis. - -Rosemary looked up and down the line. The train, consisting of half a -dozen coaches, looked derelict without its engine, and there was no -guard in sight. She had no eyes for the beautiful scenery around--the -narrow valley bordered by densely wooded heights; the mountain-side -covered with oak and beech that were just beginning to clothe themselves -in gold at the approach of autumn; the turbulent little mountain-stream; -the small station nestling amidst gnarled acacia trees; and on the right -the quaint Transylvania village with the hemp-thatched roofs and bunches -of golden maize drying in the sun, with its primitive stuccoed church -and white-washed presbytery. Rosemary saw nothing of this; her eyes -searched the landscape for the château--now a prison for political -offenders--where Philip and Anna were detained--those children whose -safety would be paid for perhaps by countless miseries, by worse tyranny -and more cruel oppression. But there was no large building in sight, and -presently Rosemary caught sight of Jasper, some way up the line, walking -toward her in company with a man in very _négligé_ toilet, who -probably was the station-master. - -At sight of Rosemary, Jasper hastened to meet her, while the man kept at -a respectful distance. - -"What news?" Rosemary cried eagerly. - -Jasper appeared dejected. "Not very good I am afraid," he said. "The -station-master here tells me that he has been advised that the line will -take the whole of the day to clear--probably more." - -"Very well, then," Rosemary said resolutely, "we must get a car." - -"Impossible, my dear; you can't get across if the road is blocked." - -"All the roads in Transylvania are not blocked, I imagine," Rosemary -retorted drily. Then she called to the station-master: "I want," she -said, "to get to Hódmezö to-day. Can I get a car anywhere in Sót?" - -"But the roads are impassable, gracious lady," the man exclaimed; "the -landslide----" - -"Never mind about the landslide. There are other roads in Transylvania -besides this one. I can go by a roundabout way, but I can get there -somehow if I have a car. Or," she added impatiently, seeing that the man -was looking very dubious, "a conveyance of any sort, I don't care what -it is." - -"Alas! gracious lady, that is just the trouble. The soldiers were here -yesterday, and they commandeered all the horses and bullocks in Sót for -military purposes. It is so hard," the man went on, muttering half to -himself; "no sooner does a man scrape together a little money and buy an -old horse, than the soldiers come down and take it away from him." - -The man was full of apologies and explanations, but somehow Rosemary had -the impression that he lied. He rambled on for a while in the same -strain; Rosemary did not hear him. Her brain was at work trying to find -a way to combat this net of intrigue that was hemming her in. She was -quite sure that the man was lying--that Naniescu had ordered these -ignorant yokels to tell the lies that suited him. She, Rosemary, Lady -Tarkington, a British subject, could not be held up at the frontier, of -course, but there could be a landslide, a block on the line, no -conveyance available, horses commandeered by the military, two, three, -perhaps four days' delay while Naniescu's courier was speeding to London -with Rosemary's manuscript and her letter to the editor of the _Times_ -asking for early publication. - -She turned with some impatience to Jasper. - -"What shall I do?" - -Gravely he shook his head. - -"Accept the inevitable," he replied gently. "I understand that there is -quite a clean little hotel in the place, and twenty-four hours' delay is -not very serious, is it?" - -"It would not be," she admitted, "if it were not prolonged." - -"It can't be prolonged indefinitely." - -"No," she retorted, "for I can always walk to the frontier." - -"Over mountain passes?" he queried, with a smile. - -But she only gave a scornful shrug. "Accept the inevitable?" How little -he knew her. The more she saw difficulties ahead, the more she felt -ready for a fight. Time was still in her favour. Hódmezö was not far -with its telegraph service, and Naniescu's power did not extend beyond -the frontier. - -Always supposing that Elza did wish her to wire. - -Rosemary thought things over for a moment or two; then she said to -Jasper: "Very well! I'll possess myself in patience for twenty-four -hours. Will you see about rooms at the hotel? And I suppose this man -will see about our luggage being taken across?" - -"Of course I'll see to everything, dear," Jasper said meekly. "But you -would like some breakfast, wouldn't you?" - -"No," Rosemary replied; "I am going for a walk. I should be such poor -company at breakfast." - - - - -CHAPTER XLI - - -Meekly and obediently Jasper went off to see after the luggage, and -Rosemary wandered away as far as the village. Her first thought was to -ascertain definitely whether indeed there was no chance of hiring some -sort of conveyance to take her as far as Hódmezö. The first man she -spoke to was the keeper of the inevitable grocery store. He had heard a -rumour that there was a block on the railway line somewhere near the -frontier, and this annoyed him very much because he was expecting a -consignment of maize from Hungary, and he supposed that he would not now -get it for two or three days. He had no horse. Hadn't had one since the -beginning of the war, when his nag was commandeered. Now even an old -crock was so dear it did not pay to buy. - -Rosemary asked him if he knew of anyone in the village from whom she -could hire a horse and cart to take her as far as the frontier, but the -man shook his head. The Jew at the hotel had two horses, and the priest -had one, but the military were down from the barracks yesterday and took -those away. There were manœuvres in progress somewhere, it seems. The -soldiers said they would bring the horses back in two or three days, but -it was very hard and inconvenient for everybody when that sort of thing -was done. - -Rosemary asked, what about oxen? But draft-oxen and some buffaloes -belonging to the mayor had also been commandeered. It was very hard. Did -not the gracious lady think so? - -Finally the storekeeper made a suggestion that with the help of a little -baksheesh the gracious lady might succeed in getting the officer at the -château to let her have what she wanted. The château was only a couple -of kilomètres from the village. It lay close to the road; the gracious -lady couldn't fail to spy the great iron gates. It had belonged at one -time to Count Fekete, but the family had been gone some time, and the -château was now a cavalry barrack, and some prisoners of war were still -kept there. - -The storekeeper offered his son as an escort to the gracious lady, so -that she should not miss her way. But Rosemary declined the offer; she -purchased a few stale biscuits from the man, intending to ask for a -glass of milk from some cottage on the way; then she set out at a brisk -pace down the road. It ran along the mountain-side, and some fifty feet -below the turbulent little stream tossed and tumbled over stones and -boulders, its incessant murmuring making a soothing accompaniment to -Rosemary's thoughts. At the last cottage in the village, where Rosemary -had obtained a glass of fresh milk from a comely peasant woman, the -latter had directed her to a mountain path which ran below the road, -parallel with it, and close to the edge of the stream. Here it was -perfectly lovely; the moist, sweet air, the occasional call of birds, -the beech and oak and dense undergrowth, the carpet of moss, the -occasional clearing where the grass was of a luscious green, and the -mauve campanula grew to a stately height. At times the path rose -sharply, twenty feet or more above the stream; at others it ran level -with the water's edge; and at one place the stream widened into a little -bay, where the water was as clear as a fairy pool and of a translucent -blue. - -Rosemary lingered for a little while beside the pool, thinking how -delicious it would be to bathe in it. When she went on again she came to -a sharp bend in the path, and as soon as she had rounded this she saw -some twenty yards farther on a man dressed in the uniform of a Roumanian -officer, sitting upon a tree stump close by the water's edge. The man -sat with his elbows resting on his knees, and his head was buried in his -hands. He looked like a man in trouble. Rosemary walked on, a dry twig -crackled under her tread, and the man suddenly looked up. - -It was Peter. - -The moment he caught sight of Rosemary he jumped up, and then made a -movement as if he meant to run away. But Rosemary, with sudden impulse, -called to him at once. - -"Don't go, Peter." - -It seemed as if the magic of her voice rooted him to the spot. He stood -quite still, but with his back to her; and then he took off his képi -with one hand, and passed the other once or twice across his forehead. - -Rosemary felt strangely disturbed and puzzled. Why was Peter here? How -did he come to be here? And in this uniform? - -"Aren't you going to speak to me, Peter?" she asked, because Peter being -here seemed so amazing that for the moment she thought that she was -seeing a vision; "or even look at me?" she added. - -"I did not suppose you particularly wished me to speak to you," he said, -without turning round to face her. - -"Why should you say that?" she asked simply. - -"Because I imagine that you look upon me as such an unmitigated -blackguard that the very sight of me must be hateful to you." - -She said nothing for a moment or two. Perhaps she was still wondering if -he was real, and if so, how he came to be here--just to-day and at this -hour. Then she went deliberately up to him, put her hand on his arm, and -forced him to look at her. - -"It is true, then?" she asked, and her eyes, those pixie eyes of hers, -luminous and searching, were fastened on his as if seeking to penetrate -to the very soul within him. But a look of dull and dogged obstinacy was -all that she got in response. - -"It is all true, Peter?" she insisted, trying with all her might to -steady her voice, so that he should not hear the catch in her throat. - -He shrugged his shoulders, indifferent and still obstinate. - -"I don't know what you mean," he retorted, almost roughly. - -"I mean," she said slowly, "that these last few days have not just been -a hideous nightmare, as I still hoped until--until two minutes ago. That -things have really happened--that you--that you----" - -She paused, physically unable to continue. It was all too vile, too -hideous to put into words. Peter gave a harsh laugh. - -"Oh, don't spare me," he said, with a flippant laugh. "You mean that you -did not believe until two minutes ago that I was really a spy in the pay -of the Roumanian government, and that you did not believe that I had -intrigued to have Philip and Anna arrested, stolen your articles for the -_Times_, and bought Kis-Imre over Aunt Elza's head, and turned her and -Maurus out of their home. Well, you believe it now, don't you? So that's -that. And as I am on my way to meet a friend, you'll excuse me, won't -you, if I run away? Is there anything else I can do for you?" - -"Yes," she said. "You can look me straight in the eyes and tell me what -has brought you down to--to this. Is it money?" - -Peter shrugged. "The want of it, I suppose," he replied. - -"I have no right to ask, I know. Only--only--we were friends once, -Peter," she went on, with a note of pleading in her tone. "You used to -tell me all your plans--your ambitions. You used to say that you did not -want to--to bind me to a promise until you had made a name for yourself. -If you had told me that you were short of money, and that you were -actually thinking of taking up this--this sort of work, I could have -helped you. I know I could have helped you. I know I should have found -the right words to dissuade you. Oh, Peter!" she went on almost wildly, -unable to hold her tears longer in check, or to control the tremor in -her voice, "it is all so horrible! Can't you see? Can't you see? We were -such friends! You used to tell me everything. You were taking up your -father's work. Some of your scientific experiments were already -attracting attention. And you were a sportsman, too! And your V.C. And -now this--this. Oh, it is too horrible--too horrible!" - -Her words were carrying her away. The murmur of the water grew louder -and louder in her ears, and in the trees the soughing of the wind among -the leaves grew almost deafening. She felt herself swaying, and for a -few seconds she closed her eyes. But when she put out her hand she felt -it resting on Peter's arm. There was the feel of the rough cloth of his -tunic. So she opened her eyes and raised them slowly until they met his. -Her glance had wandered on the ugly uniform, the livery of this -unspeakable shame. Her eyes expressed the contempt which she felt, the -loathing which was almost physical. But Peter's glance now was not only -dogged, but defiant. In it she read the determination to follow the path -of life which he had chosen for himself, and a challenge to her power to -drag him away from it. This was no longer the Peter of Kis-Imre, the -irresponsible young English athlete, whose thoughts would never soar -above the interest in a cricket-match. It was more the Peter of olden -times--the tempestuous lover, the wayward creature of caprice, the -temperamental enthusiast capable of heroic deeds, and always chafing -under the restraint imposed by twentieth century conventions; the Peter -whose soul had once been equally great in virtue as it was now steeped -in crime, the gallant soldier, the worthy descendant of the Scarlet -Pimpernel. It was the Peter of olden times, but his love for her was -dead. Dead. If one spark of it had remained alive, if something of her -image had remained in his heart, he could never have given himself over -to this vile, vile thing. But while she had been battling bravely to -banish from her mind all memories of their early love, he had torn her -out of his heart, and turned to this ignominious calling to help him to -forget. - -Rosemary felt giddy and ill; even the sweet woodland air seemed to have -turned to poisonous fumes of intrigue and venality. She pushed Peter's -arm that supported her roughly away, but she was still swaying; her hat -fell from her head, and her glorious hair lay in a tumbled mass of ruddy -gold around her face. - -"Better sit down on this old stump," Peter remarked drily. "You'll have -to lean on me till you get to it." - -But Rosemary did not really know what happened just then. She had such a -gnawing pain in her heart. She certainly tottered forward a step or two -until she reached the tree-stump, and she sank down on it, helped -thereto no doubt by Peter's arm. The next thing of which she was -conscious was a flood of tears that would not be checked. It welled up -to her eyes, and eased that heavy pain in her heart. Great sobs shook -her bowed shoulders, and she buried her face in her hands, for she was -ashamed of her tears. Ashamed that she cared so much. - -And the next thing that struck her consciousness was that Peter sunk -down on his knees before her, that he raised her skirt to his lips, and -that he murmured: "Good-bye, sweetheart. My Rosemary for remembrance. -God bless and keep you. Try and forget." Then he jumped to his feet and -was gone. Gone! She called him back with a cry of despair. "Peter!" But -he was nowhere to be seen. He must have scrambled up the incline that -led to the road. She certainly heard high above her the crackling of dry -twigs, but nothing more. Peter had passed out of her life, more -completely, more effectually, indeed, than on the day when she became -Jasper Tarkington's wife. Peter--her Peter, the friend of her girlhood, -the master from whom she had learned her first lesson of love, was dead. -The thing that remained was a vague speck, a creation of this venal -post-war world. It was as well that he should go out of her life. - -"Try to forget!" were the last words she would ever hear him speak. - -"Try to forget?" If she only could! - - - - -CHAPTER XLII - - -A minute or two later Rosemary was startled out of her day-dream by the -sound of Jasper's voice calling to her from somewhere in the near -distance. She had barely time to obliterate the traces of tears from her -eyes and cheeks before he appeared round the bend of the path. The next -moment he was by her side. Apparently he had been running, for he seemed -breathless and not quite so trim and neat in his appearance as he -usually was. - -"I heard a scream," were the first words he said, as soon as he came in -sight of her. "It terrified me when I recognised your voice. Thank God -you are safe!" - -He was obviously exhausted and, for him, strangely agitated. He threw -himself down on the carpet of moss at her feet; then he seized her hand -and covered it with kisses. "Thank God!" he kept on murmuring. "Thank -God you are safe!" - -Then suddenly he looked up at her with an inquiring frown. "But what -made you scream?" he asked. - -Rosemary by now had regained control over her nerves. She succeeded in -disengaging her hand, and in smiling quite coolly down upon him. - -"It was very stupid of me," she said, with a light laugh. "I saw a pair -of eyes looking at me through the undergrowth. It startled me. I thought -that it was a wild cat--I had heard that there were some in these -parts--but it was only a homely one." - -She tried to rise, but Jasper had recaptured her hand. He was engaged, -in kissing her finger-tips one by one, lingering over each kiss as if to -savour its sweetness in full. Now he looked up at her with a glance of -hungering passion. Rosemary felt herself flushing. She was conscious of -an intense feeling of pity for this man who had lavished on her all the -love of which he was capable, and hungered for that which she was not -able to give. He looked care-worn, she thought, and weary. - -"You were not anxious about me, Jasper, were you?" she asked kindly. - -He smiled. "I am always anxious," he said, "when I don't see you." - -"But how did you find me?" - -"Quite easily; I went to the hotel, you know. Not at all a bad little -place, by the way; rather primitive, but with electric light and plenty -of hot water. I engaged the rooms, and had a mouthful of breakfast. Then -I sallied forth in quest of you. A man in the village told me you had -been asking the way to the château, and I knew you would never stand -the dusty road. So when I found that there was a woodland path that went -through the same way as the road, I naturally concluded that you would -choose it in preference. You see," Jasper concluded, with a smile, "that -there was no magic in my quest." - -Then he looked up at her again, and there was a gleam of suspicion in -his dark, questioning eyes. "You must have walked very slowly," he said. -"I started quite half an hour, probably more, after you did." - -"I did walk very slowly. This path is enchanting, and this is not the -first time I have sat down to think and to gaze at this delicious little -stream. But," Rosemary went on briskly, "I think I had better be getting -on." - -But Jasper put out his arms and encircled her knees. "Don't go for a -minute, little one. It is so peaceful here, and somehow I have had so -little of you these last days. I don't know, but it seems as if we had -taken to misunderstanding one another lately." Then, as she made an -involuntary movement of impatience, he continued gently: "Do I annoy you -by making love to you?" - -Rosemary tried to smile. "Of course not, dear. What a question!" - -"Then tell me if there is anything in the world I can do to make you -happier. You have not looked happy lately. I have been tortured with -remorse, for I feel somehow that it has been my fault." - -"You are sweet and kind, Jasper, as always. But you must be a little -patient. I have gone through a great deal these last few days." - -"I know, I know, little one. Don't let us talk any more about it." - -He was wonderfully kind--kinder and gentler than he had been since the -first days of their married life. It almost seemed as if he had set -himself the task of making her forget all that he had involuntarily -revealed to her of his violent, unbridled temperament, and of that -lawless passion that lay at the root of his love for her. - -He talked of the future, of their return to England, the home that he' -would make for her, which would be a fitting casket for the priceless -jewel which he possessed. Rosemary, who felt inexpressibly lonely, was -once more conscious of that feeling of gratitude towards him which she -had once hoped might be transmuted in days to come into something more -ardent than friendship. She had suffered so terribly in her love for the -one man who, with all his faults, had come very near to her ideals that -she felt a desperate longing to cherish and to cling to the husband whom -she had chosen half out of pique, the man on whom she had inflicted so -much cruelty by becoming his wife. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIII - - -Rosemary was the first to remember that time was slipping by. She looked -at her watch. It was past ten o'clock--over an hour since Peter had -asked her to try and forget. She rose briskly to her feet, and arm in -arm, like two good comrades, she and Jasper made their way together -towards the château. When they came in sight of the great gates--a -couple of hundred yards still ahead of them--Rosemary was the first to -spy a motor-car standing there, and some half-dozen persons in the act -of getting into the car. There were two sentries at the gates, and -seemingly a few people on the other side. - -"It looks like a man and a woman and three soldiers in uniform getting -into that car," Rosemary remarked casually. And immediately, for no -apparent reason, Jasper started to walk along more rapidly; a few -seconds later he almost broke into a run. At that moment the car started -off, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of dust. Rosemary thought -that she heard Jasper utter a savage oath. - -"Is anything wrong?" she asked. But he did not answer, only hurried -along so quickly that she was not able to keep up with him. He had -passed through the gates when she reached them, and when she tried to -follow she was stopped by the sentry. She called to Jasper, who -apparently did not hear; pointing to him, she explained to the man on -duty that she was that gentleman's wife, and if he was allowed to go in, -why not she? They were as mate as if she had spoken in an unknown -tongue, but they would not allow her to pass. In the meanwhile Jasper -had disappeared inside the château. Rosemary had seen him go in by the -main entrance, challenged by the sentry on guard at the door, but after -a second or two allowed to pass freely in. - -Fortunately she was provided with money, and her experience of this part -of the world was that most things could be accomplished with the aid of -baksheesh. A young officer was crossing the courtyard; he looked in the -direction of the gates, saw an excessively pretty woman standing there, -and, true to his race and upbringing, came at once to see if he could -enter into conversation with her. Very politely he explained to her that -no one was allowed to enter the château, or to visit any of the -prisoners, without a special permit from the commanding officer. - -Rosemary told him that she desired to speak with the commanding officer. -This also, it seems, was impossible. But a hint from Rosemary as to a -reward if the matter could be managed simplified matters a great deal. - -The young officer conducted her across the courtyard and into the -château. It had been a fine place once, not unlike Kis-Imre in -architecture, but its occupation by the military had stripped it of -every charm. There were no carpets on the floors, and only very rough -furniture in the way of chairs and tables in what had obviously been at -one time a cosy lounge hall. The officer led the way through a couple of -equally bare rooms _en enfilade_, and came to a halt outside a door -which bore roughly chalked upon the finely carved and decorated panels -the legend: "Major Buriecha. Private. No admittance." He offered one of -the rough chairs rather shamefacedly to Rosemary, and said: "Major -Buriecha will be coming through here presently. Will you wait, gracious -lady? You will be sure to see him. I am afraid," the young man added, -with a pleasant smile, "that it is the best I can do." - -"Couldn't you announce me?" Rosemary asked. "I am Lady Tarkington. I am -sure Major Buriecha would not refuse to see me." - -The officer's smile became self-deprecating. "It is more than I should -dare to do, milady," he said. "The major is engaged in conversation with -an important government official. I would even ask you kindly, when you -see him, not to tell him that I brought you as far as here." - -"I couldn't do that, even if I wished, as I don't know your name." - -"Lieutenant Uriesu, at your service, milady." - -"I suppose," Rosemary went on, after a moment's hesitation, "you -couldn't tell me what has become of my husband, Lord Tarkington. He went -through the gates and entered the château, then I lost sight of him. -But he seemed to be well known inside this place. Could you find out for -me where he is?" - -"I am afraid not, milady," the young officer replied politely. "I have -not the honour of Lord Tarkington's acquaintance." - -He stood at attention, waiting for a moment or two to see if the English -lady had any further questions she wished to ask; then, as she remained -silent, he saluted gravely and went out of the room, leaving Rosemary to -bear her soul in patience, and to wonder what in the world had become of -Jasper. - -At first only a confused murmur of voices came to her ears through the -closed doors of Major Buriecha's private room. But gradually one of -those voices grew louder and louder, as if raised in anger; and -Rosemary, astonished, recognised that it was Jasper speaking--in -French, and obviously with authority--to Major Buriecha, the officer -commanding! . . . What in the world----? - -She heard some words quite distinctly: - -"You are a fool, Buriecha! No one but a fool could have been taken in -like this." - -And the voice that gave reply was humble, apologetic, decidedly -tremulous with fear. Rosemary could not distinguish what it said. - -Major Buriecha engaged in conversation with Jasper! And Jasper -reprimanding him with obvious authority! What could it mean? At first -she had only been puzzled, now a vague sense of uneasiness stirred in -her heart. Uneasiness that almost partook of fear. With sudden impulse -she rose and went to the door. Orders or no orders, she must know what -was going on inside that room. Her hand was on the latch when she -paused, listening. Was it mean to listen? Perhaps; but instinct was -stronger than good conduct, and she had just heard Jasper's harsh voice -giving a curt command: - -"Get through to General Naniescu at once," and then the click of the -telephone receiver being lifted from its hook and the whir of the -bell-handle. What could she do but listen? There was silence inside the -private room now, but Rosemary could hear Jasper's easily recognizable -step pacing restlessly up and down. At one moment he paused quite close -to the door, and Rosemary quickly drew back a step or two, ready to face -him if he came. But he resumed his pacing and she her watch by the door. -Presently she heard the other voice--the major's, presumably--saying: -"Is that you, Marghilo? Ask His Excellency the Governor to come to the -telephone, will you?" There was a pause, then Buriecha spoke again. -"Tell him it is Major Buriecha. And, I say, Marghilo, tell him it is -very important and desperately urgent." - -Again there was a pause, a long one this time. Jasper was still pacing -up and down the room. Rosemary could picture him to herself, with his -habitual stoop and his thin hands held behind his back. Once he laughed, -his usual harsh, mirthless laugh. "You'll get a fine dressing-down for -this, my friend, I am thinking," he said. "Naniescu won't make light of -it, I can tell you." - -Silence once again. Then Jasper's voice speaking into the telephone, and -always in French: "Hallo! Hallo! Is that you, Naniescu? Good! Number Ten -speaking." - -Number Ten! What----? But there was no time to think, no time for -puzzlement or fear. Jasper was speaking again. - -"Buriecha has made a complete fool of himself. He has allowed young -Imrey and the girl Heves to escape! Hallo! Did you hear me? It's no use -swearing like that, you'll only break the telephone. Yes, they've gone, -and you've got to get them back. Went by car half an hour ago, in the -direction of Cluj, but probably making for the frontier--what? Oh, a -plot, of course, engineered by that damned Blakeney. No use cursing -Buriecha; you are as much to blame as he is. Eh? Of course, for treating -with that young devil behind my back! Yes, you----Well, hold on and -listen. Blakeney, I am sure it was he, came here with a forged order -from you, demanding that Imrey and the girl shall be delivered to him -for transference to an unknown destination. Eh? Well, of course he -should have known, but he says your signature looked perfect; he thought -it was all in order. The rascal was in officer's uniform, and had two -men with him also in uniform. What can you do? Telephone all along the -roads to your frontier police, of course. If they stick to the car they -are bound to be stopped. Yes, five persons. Three of the men in uniform -in an open car. The prisoners have probably taken on some disguise by -now. Shoot at sight, of course, if the car does not slow down. Police -the mountain paths as well. Blakeney can't know them well. I don't know -who the other two men are. Hungarian, perhaps, or English. Don't delay. -Yes, yes! What's that? Marghilo getting through? Good! Well, that's the -best you can do. We'll have a reckoning presently, my friend. You should -not have treated with him, I say. He has probably robbed your courier of -the newspaper articles or else telegraphed in Uno's name to the _Times_ -not to print them, and then got the prisoners out of your clutches by -this impudent trick. Oh, all right. Hurry up! You have no time to waste, -nor have I. Yes! All right. Come along if you want to. I shall be at -Sót all right enough. But you won't enjoy the interview, my friend, I -promise you that. What?" - -Jasper had ceased speaking for some time, but Rosemary still stood -beside the door--a woman turned to stone. Her hands and feet were numb. -She could not move; only from time to time a cold shudder travelled all -down her spine. She felt nothing, not even horror. It was all too -stupendous even for horror. A cataclysm, a ball of fire, a flame that -froze, ice that scorched. A topsy-turvydom that meant the kingdom of -death. - -And Jasper, her husband, was the other side of that door, Jasper -Tarkington, her husband! The spy of an alien government, Number Ten! A -thing! A rag torn and filthy. The man whose name she bore. She could -hear his footstep in the next room, his mirthless laugh, his harsh voice -muttering curses or else invectives against the other man, who was only -a fool. Then suddenly the footsteps came to a halt. The door was pulled -open and Rosemary stood face to face with Jasper. - -At sight of her he stood stock-still. An ashen hue spread over his face. -The curse that had risen to his throat died before it reached his lips. - -From the room behind him Major Buriecha's tremulous voice was asking if -anything was amiss. Jasper closed the door and stood with his back to -it, still facing Rosemary. His eyes, always hawk-like and closely set, -had narrowed till they were mere slits, and his lips had curled up over -his jaws, showing his teeth white and sharp, like those of a wolf. An -expression of intense cruelty distorted his face. He was about to speak, -but Rosemary put up her hand to stop him. - -"Not here," she commanded. "Not now." - -He gave a hard laugh and shrugged his shoulders. - -"It had to come some time, I suppose," he said coolly. "I am not sorry." - -"Nor I," she replied. "But will you please go now? We'll meet later--in -the hotel." - -He looked her up and down with that glance which she had learned to -dread, and for a moment it seemed as if he would yield to that -ungovernable passion in him and seize her in his arms. Rosemary did not -move. Her luminous eyes, abnormally dilated, never left his face for one -instant. She watched the struggle in the man's tortuous soul, the -passion turned to hatred now that he stood revealed. She did not flinch, -because she was not afraid. The man was too vile to inspire fear. - -"Go!" she said coldly. - -For another second he hesitated, but it was the banal sound of Buriecha -spluttering and coughing the other side of the door that clinched his -resolve. This was neither the place nor the time to assert his will, to -punish her for the humiliation which he was enduring. Once more he -laughed and shrugged his shoulders, then he walked slowly out of the -room. - - - - -CHAPTER XLIV - - -For over half an hour Rosemary waited in that bare, cheerless room, and -gazed unseeing out of the window while she tried vainly to co-ordinate -her thoughts. In the forefront of her mind there was a feeling of great -joy which she hardly dared to analyze. Joy! And she also had the -feeling, though she had come to the very brink of an awful precipice, -though she was looking down into an abyss of shame and horror, with no -hope of ever being able to bridge the chasm over, that yet on the other -side was peace--peace that she would never attain, but which was there -nevertheless, to dwell on, to dream of, when the turmoil was past and -she be allowed to rest. - -After about half an hour the young officer who had first conducted her -to the fateful spot came back to see what had happened. He seemed -astonished that she was still there. - -"Major Buriecha has not yet come out of his room," Rosemary managed to -say quite coolly. "It is getting near dinner-time. I don't think I'll -wait any longer." - -The young man appeared relieved. Anyway he was not likely now to get -into trouble on the English lady's account. He clicked his heels -together, expressed perfunctory regret at her disappointment, then -offered to conduct milady out of the château. Rosemary accepted his -escort and took leave of him at the gates. - -"If milady will write to the commanding officer," Lieutenant Uriesu said -at the end, "I am sure he will give the permit milady requires." - -"I will certainly take your advice," Rosemary assented cheerfully. -"Good-bye, Lieutenant Uriesu, and thank you for your kind efforts on my -behalf." - -She walked back towards the village by way of the path. When she came to -the spot where first she had seen Peter that morning she sat down on the -tree-stump and listened to the murmur of the stream. She would not allow -herself to think of Peter--only of Philip and Anna, whom he was taking -across the frontier by another clever trick--in disguise, probably--and -over the mountain passes. Rosemary could not believe that they would -stick to the car and be stopped by the frontier police. They would get -away into Hungary--on foot. They were young, they knew the country, and -they could scramble over the mountain passes and be at Hódmezö soon, -where Elza would be waiting for them. Elza knew, of course, and Maurus -knew too. That was why he had been so calm and so composed when he was -told that he must leave Kis-Imre within four-and-twenty hours. They all -knew. Peter had trusted them. Only she, Rosemary, had been kept out of -his councils, because she might have betrayed them to Jasper, and Peter -could not tell her that it was Jasper who was the miserable spy. - -But no, she would not think of Peter, or of how he had worked to -circumvent Jasper at every turn. She only waited to think of Philip and -Anna, those two children who were so ingenuously learning the lesson of -love one from the other, and of Elza, so patient and so heroic, and of -Maurus, who had played his part so well. Maurus would be coming through -from Cluj some time to-day, and he, too, would be held up at Sót, and -perhaps spend the night in the funny little hotel. Rosemary hoped that -she would see him. His company would be very welcome whilst Jasper was -still there. Then to-morrow she and Maurus would get across the frontier -somehow, and join up with Elza and the children at Hódmezö. And there -was always the British Consul in Cluj to appeal to. There was no -desperate hurry now. The children were safe and those articles of hers -would not be published in the _Times._ Peter would have seen to that. - -But no, she did not want to think of Peter. Was she not still Jasper -Tarkington's wife? - - - - -CHAPTER XLV - - -It was late in the afternoon when Rosemary at last made her way back to -the small hotel in Sót. She had spent the day roaming about the -forests, and eating such scrappy food as she could purchase at one or -other of the cottages. Twice she had been to the railway station to meet -the trains that were due in from Cluj. She hoped that Maurus might have -come by one of them. Now there was not another due before the midnight -express, which got to Sot in the small hours of the morning. The farce -of there being a block on the line was still kept up. Passengers got out -of the train, grumbling, and the small hotel was full to capacity. It -was a low, irregular building, with a very large courtyard closed on -three sides, and a wide archway through which cars and carriages could -drive in, intersecting the fourth. One side of the house was given over -to stabling and cowsheds, another to kitchens and offices, the other two -held the guest-rooms and one or two public rooms. Some of the bedrooms -were level with the ground, and on the floor above a wooden gallery ran -right round the courtyard. The courtyard itself seemed to be the -principal meeting place for cows and chickens, and even pigs, which -roamed freely about the place and entered any door that happened to be -conveniently open. The best bedrooms gave on the balcony above. On -inquiry Rosemary was informed that the English milord had booked three -rooms that morning for himself and milady who would be coming during the -day. A buxom, bare-footed peasant girl then conducted milady up to these -rooms. - -Rosemary went along heavy-footed. She was more tired than she would have -cared to admit. She had had very little food all day, and her nerves by -now were terribly on edge. It had been a day packed full of emotions and -there was more to come. There was the inevitable interview with Jasper. -Horrible as it would be, she had no intention of shirking it. She would -leave him, of course, with the hope never to set eyes on him again, but -certain matters would have to be arranged between them, and Rosemary's -moral courage would not allow her to have recourse to letter-writing or -to the help of lawyers. She knew what she wished to say to Jasper and -would have despised herself if she had shrunk from the ordeal. - -The hours went slowly by. Later, in the evening, she ordered some supper -to be brought up to her room. She found it difficult to swallow any -food, but she drank two cups of deliciously strong coffee, and munched -some of the excellent and very sustaining maize bread for which this -part of the country is famous. She had a book in her suit-case and -contrived to read for a while, but she could not concentrate on what she -was reading, and soon had to put the book away. Time hung very heavily. -She was terribly weary and yet she could not sleep. And she could not -understand what had become of Jasper. She had seen or heard nothing of -him since they parted in that ugly, bare room, the picture of which -would for ever remain graven in her mind as the place where she had -experienced the greatest horror in her life. No one in the hotel had -seen him. A vague sense of uneasiness began to stir within her. At the -same time she dismissed from her mind any fear for his safety. She was -quite sure that whatever he ultimately decided to do, he would not pass -out of her life without a final struggle for mastery. She did not dread -the interview. She knew it to be inevitable; but she longed passionately -for it to be over--to know the worst--to feel certain of that measure of -freedom for which she meant to fight. - -And because she longed for the interview to be over she would not go to -bed before Jasper returned. She sat in the narrow slip-room, grandiosely -described by the hotel proprietor as the salon, which divided Jasper's -room from hers. The one window, which was wide open, gave her a -beautiful view over the mountains, and the evening sky studded with -stars. Somewhere the other side of those mountaintops Philip and Anna -were speeding towards freedom--the freedom which Peter had won for them -by dint of courage, resource and wit. Instinctively memory recalled that -other weary waiting at Kis-Imre, when she and Elza had watched and -prayed together through the hours of the night. And torturing fears rose -out of the darkness lest this second attempt at flight should prove as -unsuccessful as the first. - -It was past midnight when Rosemary heard Jasper's familiar step along -the wooden balcony. He came straight to the door of the salon and -entered, apparently without the slightest hesitation. He closed the door -behind him, and throwing down his hat said coolly: "I saw the light -under the door, so I knew you had not gone to bed yet. I've been in some -time, but stayed to have some supper in the coffee-room. Very good -supper, too. They know how to cook in Hungary. That is the one thing the -Roumanians might with advantage learn from them." - -He threw himself into a chair and drew his cigarette-case out of his -pocket. Having selected one he offered his case to Rosemary. - -"Have one?" he asked. When she shook her head he shrugged and laughed, -then he struck a match and lighted his cigarette. His hand was perfectly -steady. The flame of the match brought for a moment into relief his -narrow hatchet face, with the dark eyes set closely together and the -harsh Wellingtonian features. Rosemary looked at him curiously. It was -the first time she had really studied his face closely since she knew. -Once or twice before she had been repelled by a flash of animal passion -in his eyes, and once she had caught sight of his face in the mirror in -the smoking-room at Kis-Imre, when it was distorted by a wolfish -expression of cruelty. Now both the passion and the cruelty were there, -expressed around his mouth and in his eyes which looked at her over the -tiny flickering flame. - -Deliberately he blew the match out, took a long whiff from his -cigarette, and said calmly: - -"How you are going to hate me after this!" After a second's pause he -added: "Well, I have had so much cruelty to endure from you in the past, -a little more or less won't make much difference." - -"I have never meant to be cruel, Jasper," Rosemary rejoined coldly. "But -I know now that the cruelest thing I ever did to you was to become your -wife." - -"You only found that out, my dear, since you saw Peter Blakeney again." - -To this Rosemary made no answer. She shrugged her shoulders and turned -her head away. Jasper jumped up and gripped her by the arm, making her -wince with pain. - -"Before we go any further, Rosemary," he said with a savage oath, "I'll -have it out with you. Are you still in love with Peter Blakeney?" - -"I refuse to answer," Rosemary said calmly. "You have no longer the -right to ask me such a question." - -"No longer the right," he retorted with a harsh laugh. "You are still my -wife, my dear. What happened this morning will not give you your freedom -in law, remember." - -"I know that, Jasper. What happened this morning has broken my life, -but, as you say, it cannot give me my freedom, save with your consent." - -He gave a derisive chuckle. "And you are reckoning on that, are you?" he -asked dryly. - -"I am reckoning on it." - -"Then all I can say, my dear, is that, for a clever woman, your -calculations are singularly futile." - -"I don't think so," she rejoined. "I know enough about the laws of -England to know that they do not compel me to live under your roof." - -"You mean that you intend to leave me?" - -"I do." - -"And create a scandal?" - -"There need be no scandal. We'll agree to live apart; that is all." - -"That is not all, my dear," he retorted dryly, "as you will find out to -your cost." - -"What do you mean?" - -"I mean that Peter Blakeney chose to follow you to Transylvania; any -number of witnesses can testify to that. I mean, that we are now in a -country where money will purchase everything, even such testimony as -will enable Lord Tarkington to divorce his wife, and raise such a hell -of scandal around Mr. Blakeney that no decent club would have him as a -member, and he would have to live out of England for the benefit of his -health." - -Rosemary had listened to him without attempting to interrupt. She even -tried hard not to reveal the indignation which she felt. When he had -finished speaking, and once more threw himself into a chair, with a sigh -of self-satisfaction, she said quite quietly: - -"I thought that this morning I had probed the lowest depths to which a -man's nature could sink. But God help me! I have seen worse now!" - -"That is as it may be, my dear. A man fights for what he treasures with -any weapon that comes to his hand." - -"For what he treasures, yes! But you----" - -"I treasure you beyond all things on earth," he broke in hoarsely. "You -are my wife, my property, my own possession. You may love Blakeney and -hate me, but I have rights over you that all the sophistries in the -world cannot deny me. I alone," he went on, and in one second he was on -his feet again, and before she had time to defend herself he had her in -his arms. "I alone have the right to hold you as I am holding you now. I -alone have the right to demand a kiss. Kiss me, Rosemary, my beautiful, -exquisite wife, with the pixie eyes! Though you hate me, kiss me--though -you love him, kiss me----Mine is still the better part." - -He pressed his lips against hers, and for these few horrible moments -Rosemary, half swooning, could only lie rigid in his arms. But horror -and loathing gave her strength. With her two hands she pushed against -him with all her might. "Let me go," she murmured. "I hate you." - -But he only laughed. "Of course you hate me. Well, I like your hatred -better than the cool indifference I have had from you up to now. You -hate me, my dear, because you don't understand. With all your vaunted -cleverness you don't understand. Women such as you--good women, I -suppose we must call them--never would understand all that there is in a -man that is evil and vicious and cruel. Yes, in every man! Deep down in -our souls we are blackguards, every one of us! Some of us are what women -have made us, others have vices ingrained in our souls at birth. Have -you ever seen a schoolboy tease a cat, or a lad set a terrier against a -stoat? Would you hate him for that? Not you! If he has revolted you too -much, you may punish him, but even so you'll only smile: it is boy's -nature, you will say. Well, boy's nature is man's nature. Cruel, -vicious! Civilization has laid a veneer over us. Some of us appear -gentle and kind and good. Gentle? Yes! On the surface. Deep down in our -souls, grown men as we are, we would still love to tease the cat, or to -see a terrier worry a stoat. Whilst men had slaves they thrashed them. -Where wives are submissive their husband beat them. Give a man power to -torture and he will do it. Boy's nature, I tell you, but we dare not -show it. We are gentlemen now, not men. And most of us have a false idea -that women would despise us if they knew. And so we smirk, and toady, -and pretend, and those of us who are not puppets writhe against this -pretence. I was born a savage. When I was a schoolboy I was not content -with teasing a cat, I loved to torture it; if a horse was restive I -would thrash it with the greatest joy. Later I revelled in twisting a -smaller boy's wrist until he screamed, in pulling a girl's hair or -pinching her arm--anything that hurt. Boy's nature. Most women only -smiled! Then came the war and the world was plunged in an orgy of -cruelty. I was a very fine linguist and became attached to the secret -service. I worked for the French army. I no longer pulled girls' hair -nor pinched their arms, but I--the spy--tracked enemy spies down--women -and men--dragged them out of their lair as a terrier would a stoat, and -brought them before the military tribunals to be condemned and shot. But -the women still smiled. Good women, mind you! Those whom I was tracking -down were Germans, and so I--the spy--was a hero and they were only -human refuse whom to torture was a duty. When war was over and my uncle -died I inherited a title, and civilization threw the mantle of -convention over me, imposed on me certain obligations. My work was done. -I became a puppet. I smirked and toadied and tried to pretend. Oh, how I -loathed it! Restrictions, civilization, drove me mad! If I had never met -you I should have gone off to a land where I could keep slaves and work -my will on them, or turned Moslem and keep numberless wives, whom I -could beat when the mood seized me. But I met you, and all my desires -were merged in the one longing to have you for my own. You were -adulated, famous, rich probably. I had a title to offer you and nothing -else. My friend de Kervoisin, who knew my capabilities, spoke to me of -Transylvania, a conquered country where rebellion was rife. He spoke to -me of Naniescu, an ambitious man, unscrupulous and venal, who wanted -help to consolidate his position, to put himself right before his -government and before the world by bringing to light intrigues and -conspiracies that did not always exist. The work meant money. I took it -on. I made over £100,000 in three years, and there was more to come. -Already I was a rich man and the work satisfied the boy's nature in me. -Following up a clue. Disguises. Tracking a man down, or a woman. Seeing -their fear, watching their terror. Arrests, secret trials. Executions in -the early dawn. Scenes of desolation and farewells. I had them all! They -helped me to endure the London seasons, the evenings at the club, the -balls, the crowds, the futility of it all. And the money which. I earned -brought me nearer and nearer to you. Luck was on my side. Peter Blakeney -courted you, and like a fool he lost you. How? I did not know and cared -less. I won you because I was different from other men, because you were -piqued, and because I interested you. Because I knew how to smirk and to -toady better than most. Then came the question of Transylvania. Naniescu -entrusted me with the task of discovering the authorship of certain -articles that had appeared in English and American newspapers which -impugned his administration. He offered me ten thousand pounds if I -succeeded in bringing the author to justice, and ten thousand more if -certain articles which you were to write were published in the _Times._ -The very first morning that we were in Cluj the girl Anna Heves gave -away her secret. Once I had her and Philip under arrest it was easy -enough to bring pressure to bear upon you. I almost succeeded, as you -know. At first it was difficult--whilst Elza and Maurus Imrey were -ignorant of the bargain that Naniescu had proposed to you. I had only -gained one victory, I was not likely to win the other. So while you -thought me in Bucharest, I came back disguised as a gipsy and warned -Elza that Philip and Anna were in danger of death. This brought -everything to a head. Unfortunately Peter Blakeney already suspected me. -It began probably in England--exactly when I shall never know--but he -was my friend once, and then suddenly I felt that we had become enemies. -I must have given myself away at one time, I suppose, and he is as sharp -as a wild cat. He followed us to Transylvania--to make sure. . . . Then -at Cluj Anna Heves confided in him. The children's arrest confirmed his -suspicions, and that night at Kis-Imre he recognised me under my -disguise as a gipsy. Curse him! After that the whole adventure became a -battle of wits between him and me. I won the first round when I spied -out the plan for Philip and Anna's escape; I won again when I persuaded -you to place the whole bargain between yourself and Naniescu before -Elza, and indirectly induced you to write the newspaper articles which -he wanted. I thought I had won an easy victory then. But Peter Blakeney -stole your manuscript and I feared then that I had lost everything. The -death of Philip and Anna Heves would have been some compensation, it is -true, but I wanted that extra ten thousand pounds more than I did the -joy of seeing those two children shot. I thought that Peter had stolen -the manuscript in order to bargain with it for the lives of his two -cousins, but I know better now. He sold your manuscript to Naniescu for -the Kis-Imre property. It will stand in his name until he can hand it -over to the Imreys again. In the meanwhile by a clever ruse he has got -Philip and Anna out of the country. And by now he will have sent a -telegram in your name to the _Times._ He has won the battle hands down. -I am beaten in all, except in one thing, I have _you._ Not all his -cleverness--and he is as clever as a monkey, it seems--can take you away -from me. If you leave me, you do so knowing the consequences. Remember -what I said: we are in a country where money can purchase everything, -even such testimony as will enable me to divorce you and to raise such a -hell of scandal around Peter Blakeney that no decent man in England -would shake him by the hand. So now you know. I have told you my -history, and I have extolled Peter Blakeney's virtues--his heroism, if -you like to call it so. And I have done it deliberately so that you may -admire him, regret him, love him if you must, even whilst you feel -yourself irrevocably bound to me. You are just as much my slave now, as -if I had bought you in the open market. If you continue to hate me, I -shall probably hate you too in the end. But that would not help to free -you. On the contrary, I think it would rather amuse me. I was never -content to tease a cat, I invariably tortured it." - -Jasper Tarkington had been speaking without interruption for nearly ten -minutes, but he had not spoken without a pause. He was pacing up and -down the narrow room with his hands held behind his back, but now and -again he had come to halt, quite close to Rosemary, either to emphasize -a point, or to look her up and down with a glance of cruelty or merely -mockery. Rosemary withstood every glance without flinching. She was -standing close to the table with her hand resting on it, to give herself -support. She did not interrupt him. She wanted to hear everything he had -to say, right to the end. When he renewed his threat that he would call -false witnesses in order to create deadly scandal around Peter, and -warned her that she was as much his slave as if he had bought her in the -open market, she had, quite instinctively, glanced down on the tray -which contained the remnants of her supper. There was a knife on the -tray; one with a broad blade narrowing into a sharp point. She shuddered -and turned her eyes away, but Jasper had caught her glance. He had just -finished speaking, and he went deliberately up to the table, picked the -knife up by its point, and with a mocking smile held it with its handle -towards her. - -"Very dramatic," he said lightly. "Did you ever see _La Tosca?_" - -When she made no reply he laughed and threw the knife back on the table. -Then he sat down and lit another cigarette. - -There was silence in the little room now. Rosemary had scarcely moved. -The horror and indignation which she had felt at first when Jasper -embarked upon the history of his life had given place to a kind of moral -numbness. She had ceased to feel. Her body seemed turned to stone; even -her soul no longer rebelled. She was this man's wife, and he had warned -her of the means which he would adopt to bind her, unresisting, to him. -Nothing but death could loosen the bonds which he had tightened by his -threats against Peter. - -Jasper smoked on in silence. Only the fussy ticking of the old-fashioned -little clock broke the stillness that had descended over this lonely -corner of God's earth like a pall. A little while ago Rosemary had been -vaguely conscious of a certain amount of bustle and animation in the -house, and subconsciously she had associated this bustle with the -probable arrival of guests who had come off the night train. But that -had been some time ago. How long she did not know; probably before -Jasper had begun speaking. She looked at her watch. It was half past -two. Jasper jumped to his feet. - -"It must be very late," he said coolly. "I really must beg your pardon -for having kept you up so long. Reminiscences are apt to run away with -one." - -He put down his cigarette, deliberately went up to his wife and took her -by the shoulders. - -"Kiss me, Rosemary," he said quietly. - -It seemed to amuse him that she did not respond, for he gave a mocking -chuckle and put his arms round her. He pressed his lips upon her mouth, -her eyes, her throat. Then suddenly he let her go and she almost fell up -against the table. - -He then walked across to the door of his room. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVI - - -Jasper Tarkington, on the point of entering his room, had switched on -the light and then paused on the threshold, uttering a gasp of -astonishment. - -"Maurus!" he exclaimed, "what in the world are you doing here?" - -Maurus Imrey was sprawling on the horse-hair sofa, apparently fast -asleep. At Jasper's ejaculation he opened his eyes, blinked, yawned, and -stretched his arms. - -"Ah! my dear Tarkington," he said in Hungarian. "I thought you were -never coming." - -He rose and shook himself like a big, shaggy dog, and passed his fingers -through his tousled hair. - -"I must have been fast asleep," he said. - -"But what are you doing here, my friend?" Jasper asked, frowning. - -"Waiting for you to do me a little service. It is so late, I don't -really like to ask you. But I should be badly stranded if you did not -help me." - -"What is it?" - -"I left Cluj by the midnight express," Maurus explained. "You know that -we have all been turned out of Kis-Imre. And, by the way, it is Peter -Blakeney who has bought the place. Isn't it a scandal? I never thought -he would be such a swine. You know he is a near relation of my wife's." - -"Yes, yes!" Jasper muttered impatiently. "What about it?" - -"Well, simply that those damned officials at Cluj station never told me -that I could only get as far as Sót. So I arrived here with my luggage -and Anton, and, of course, I found this beastly hotel full. Not a room -to be had, my dear fellow. Did you ever hear such a thing? In the olden -days one would just have taken a man by the scruff of his neck and -thrown him out of any room one happened to want for oneself. I don't -know what it's like with you in England, but here----" - -"Just as bad," Jasper broke in with a curse, "but in heaven's name get -on, man." - -"Well, then, I left my big luggage here, and Anton and I went on to -another little tavern I know of in the village. There, as luck would -have it, the proprietor whom I used to know is dead, and the new man is -one of those Bulgarian agriculturists who come over every year, you -know, for the harvesting. Some of these men do settle down here -sometimes, and this man----" - -"Well, what about him?" - -"He doesn't know a word of Hungarian, my dear fellow, and he does not -seem to understand much Roumanian either. You once told me that you had -been in Bulgaria and that you knew a little of their beastly language, -so I thought----" - -"What is it you want me to do?" Jasper broke in impatiently. "Walk over -with you and arrange with the man about your rooms?" - -"If you would not mind. Or could you let me sleep on your sofa?" - -Jasper had hesitated at first. It was close on three o'clock, and he did -not relish the idea of turning out again at this hour; but the -suggestion that Maurus should be his room companion for the night was -far more unpleasant. - -"Come along, then," he said curtly. "It isn't far, I suppose?" - -"Five minutes' walk, my dear fellow," Maurus said with obvious relief, -"just the other side of the stream. And Anton shall walk back with you -afterwards." - -"I don't want anybody to chaperone me," Jasper retorted roughly. - -He had to go into the salon to fetch his hat. Rosemary was still -standing there leaning against the table for support. She had very much -wanted to see Maurus at one time, but now it did not seem to matter. -Nothing probably would ever matter again. She heard Jasper's voice -saying in a whisper. "You've heard what this fool wants. I suppose I -shall have to go." - -She nodded in response. And then Jasper added with mocking courtesy: - -"Good night, Lady Tarkington." - - - - -CHAPTER XLVII - - -Anton saw it all, and it was he who broke the news to Rosemary. - -He had been sitting up in the small slip of a room on the ground floor -which had been assigned to him, waiting for his master and wondering why -the gracious count should be so long upstairs at this hour with the -English lord and lady, when he saw the gracious count and the English -milord come along the first floor balcony, he heard them go downstairs, -and saw them go out of the house. - -Anton was rather anxious about his master because the gracious count had -been very, very queer the last twenty-four hours. Sometimes he would be -very hilarious; he would laugh and sing and shout "Hurrah for Peter! -Bravo!" and so on; at others he would be terribly depressed and sit and -cry like a child, or else tear about the place in a passion of fury. He -had had a slight fit after the gracious English lord and lady had gone, -and the sisters thought that probably the control he had put on himself -when the Roumanian soldiers brought the expulsion order had been too -much for his nerves. - -So when Anton saw the gracious count go out with the English lord at -this extraordinary hour he could not help but follow him. Though there -was no moon the sky was clear and the darkness of the night was just -beginning to yield to the first touch of dawn. The two gentlemen walked -quite fast, but Anton was able to keep them in sight. When they came to -the little wooden bridge that spans the stream the English lord was a -few steps ahead of the gracious count. Suddenly, in mid-stream, the -count sprang upon milord from behind, and in a moment had him by the -throat. The English lord, taken entirely by surprise, fought desperately -nevertheless. Anton had uttered a great shout, and ran to the rescue as -fast as ever he could. Through the gloom he could just see the English -milord forced down, with his back nearly doubled over the slender -parapet of the bridge, and the gracious count bending over him and -holding him by the throat. Anton's shout echoed from mountain to -mountain, but all around there was the silence of the night, broken only -by the howling of a dog outside a cottage door. - -Then suddenly, before Anton set his foot upon the bridge, the -catastrophe occurred. The parapet suddenly crashed and gave way under -the weight of the two men, and they were hurled into the stream below. -One awful cry rent the stillness of the night. Anton, half crazy with -horror, waded into the stream, the waters of which at a point near a -huge boulder were stained with a streak of crimson. The English milord -in falling had broken his head against the stone. The gracious count had -probably fallen at first on the top of him, and then rolled over on his -back, thus breaking his fall. Anton dragged them both single-handed out -of the stream, first his master, then the English lord. The latter was -dead, but the gracious count was still breathing and moaning softly. -Anton laid him down upon the grass, and made a pillow for him with his -own coat, which he had taken off. Then he ran to the priest's house, -which was quite close, and rang the bell until he made someone hear. The -priest had been quite kind. He roused his servant, and together--the -priest and Anton and the servant--carried the gracious count into the -presbytery. But the English milord, who was quite dead, they laid upon -the bier in the tiny mortuary chapel which was by the entrance of the -churchyard. - -The priest had already sent for the village doctor, who had done what he -could for the gracious count, but, of course, he was ignorant, and, -anyhow, Anton was of the opinion that there was nothing that any man -could do. But he had been to the station and roused the station-master -and asked him to telephone to Dr. Zacharias at Cluj. Anton was just -going to run back and see if the answer had come through. In the -meanwhile he had come over to the hotel to see if he could speak with -the gracious lady. - -Rosemary had not yet thought of going to bed. For two hours after Jasper -went out with Maurus she had sat, unthinking, by the open window. Time -for her had ceased to be. She had heard the howling of a dog. At one -moment she had heard a shout, and then a weird and prolonged cry. But -these sounds conveyed no meaning to her brain. Her thinking powers were -atrophied. - -Then the bare-footed, buxom, very sleepy little maid came to tell her -that Anton, the valet of the gracious count at Kis-Imre, desired to -speak with her at once. She was fully dressed; she sent for Anton and he -told her what he had seen. - -Hastily seizing hat and wrap, she went with Anton out of the house and -through the village to the priest's house. The soft, colourless light of -dawn lay over the mountain and valley. On ahead the turbulent waters of -the stream tossed and played around the projecting boulders, murmuring -of the tragedy which had culminated within their bosom. Nearing the -priest's house Rosemary could see the narrow bridge, with its broken -parapet---- - -The priest met her at the gate. The gracious count, he said, had not -regained consciousness. He still lived, the doctor said, but life only -hung by a thread. Rosemary sat down by Maurus' bedside and watched that -life slowly ebbing away. In the late afternoon Dr. Zacharias came over -from Cluj. He only confirmed what the village doctor had said. The spine -was broken. It was only a question of hours. He could do nothing, but at -Rosemary's earnest request--or perhaps on the promise of a heavy fee--he -agreed to come again in the morning. - -Less than an hour after he left the dying man rallied a little. He -opened his eyes, and seeing Rosemary, his face was illumined by a great -joy. She bent over him and kissed his forehead. Two tears rolled slowly -down his wan cheeks. He murmured something, and she bent her ear till it -was quite close to his lips. - -"He was a monster," he murmured. "I heard everything. I had to punish -him for the evil he did to my wife and the children. And I have made you -free." - -At sunset Maurus Count Imrey passed away into the Unknown. - -Then only did Rosemary leave his bedside. Accompanied by the priest, she -went to the little mortuary chapel to take a last look at the man who -had done her such an infinity of wrong. Now that his stormy life was -ended, and his hard features were set in lines of peace, Rosemary felt -once more that aching sense of pity for him which so often before had -prompted her to forgive. She was able to commend his turbulent soul to -God without the slightest thought of hatred or revenge. He had said once -that she would never understand; but the infinite pity in her heart was -born of an infinite understanding. The man who had atoned for his sins -by this tragic death was not wholly responsible for his actions. He was -the victim of his temperament: more sinned against, perhaps, than -sinning. Who knows? If some other woman had captured his fancy she might -have made him happy, found what was strong and fine in him, and all that -was cruel would perhaps have been submerged beneath a great wave of -love. - - - - -CHAPTER XLVIII - - -Since then, nearly two years! And this was the season of 1924! Wembley! -The Rodeo! Royalties from Italy and Denmark and Roumania! The Labour -Government! - -How far, how very far, seemed Transylvania and Sót and the little -mortuary chapel wherein Rosemary had gazed for the last time on the -enigmatic personality which had once been Jasper Tarkington--her -husband. - -Even in death he had kept his secret--the secret of that strange dual -entity which she had never been able to reconcile one with the other, -the cruel, wolfish nature so skilfully hidden beneath the mantle of -supercivilisation. - -Rosemary had not seen Peter since then. After the tragedy at Sót she -had at last succeeded, by dint of bribery, in entering into direct -communication with the British Consulate at Cluj. - -Arrangements for the conveying of Lord Tarkington's body to England took -up some considerable time. She only met Elza in Budapest when she -herself was on her way home. Peter had left by then for an unknown -destination. He had conveyed Philip and Anna over the frontier. They had -soon abandoned the car, fearing pursuit, and in disguise had made their -way to the frontier over the mountains. They were young and strong, the -hardships were not serious, and the dangers reduced to a minimum once -they had reached the lonely mountain passes. It was the planning of the -escape that had been so wonderful. Peter Blakeney, disguised as a -Roumanian officer, and having with him Captain Payson and a young -Hungarian cricketer, bath dressed as Roumanian soldiers, had presented a -forged order for the surrender of the two prisoners, Philip Imrey and -Anna Heves. To the officer commanding the depôt the order appeared in -no way suspicious, and he gave up the prisoners without question. After -that the whole thing became just a delightful adventure, nothing more. -But Elza spoke of Peter with tears in her eyes. They had all of them -mistrusted him. Wasn't that strange? Did Rosemary guess? Elza wanted to -know, and Philip and Anna plied her with questions. - -These were sad days for them all. But still Elza was wonderful, as -wonderful as she had ever been. Even Rosemary never actually found out -just how much of the tragedy Elza knew or guessed. Anton did not tell -her, and to their world the death of the two men who were known to have -been friends was just a terrible accident. Darkness. A broken bridge. -Fatality. - -Rosemary never told, of course. She wondered if Peter knew. She waited -on in Budapest for some days hoping for news of him. But none came. -Captain Payson heard in an indirect way that Peter was still in -Transylvania, but no reliance could be placed on the truth of the -rumour. It was only when Rosemary was back in England that she heard -definite news of Peter. Elza wrote to say that he was living in -Kis-Imre. "He is administering the property for us," she went on. "Isn't -he wonderful? I am sure he will make something more of it than poor -Maurus was able to do. Of course, they dare not do anything to him -because he is a British subject, and he tells me in his last letter that -he hopes in a very few years' time, when justice has been at last meted -out to our unfortunate country, to hand over Kis-Imre to Philip in a -better state than it is now. Then my poor Philip's dream will, I hope, -come true. He and Anna have loved each other ever since they were tiny -children. When he has once more a fine home to offer her they will be -married with my blessing. And all this we shall owe to Peter Blakeney. -Can you wonder, my dear, that we all worship him? When I look at him I -seem to see my dear and beautiful sister gazing at me through his eyes, -and in his smile I see something of hers, because just like Peter, she -was always ready to laugh, always smiling at the world, always doing -great and kind things under cover of a joke. So Philip and Anna and I, -we bless Peter, and for some reason, which perhaps you can explain -better than I, when we think of him we immediately also think of you." - -Since then nearly two years! Rosemary has resumed work. Her powerful -articles in _The International Review_ on the conditions obtaining in -Transylvania under alien occupation have begun at last to arouse from -its apathy public opinion in England and America. Time and her own -perseverance, aided by the lovers of justice and fair play who abound in -Anglo-Saxon communities, would after a while, she felt, do the rest. -Rosemary had seen the rampant evil with her own eyes, now she was -conscious of her power to help in remedying, or, at any rate, mitigating -it. She threw herself heart and soul into the work, not only because she -loved it and because it thrilled her, but because work alone could help -her to forget. "Try to forget" were the last words which she heard Peter -speak, there in the woods beside the turbulent mountain stream when she -had thought him a spy, a vile and venal wretch, and he had not said one -word to exculpate himself. How could he when this might have meant -rousing her suspicions of Jasper?--or perhaps it was just pride that had -caused him to hold his tongue. Pride which so often has proved love's -most persistent enemy. - -Or perhaps he no longer cared, and that was why he thought it would be -so easy for her to forget. - - -Since then nearly two years! Rosemary walked through the park that late -afternoon in July. She had been to the Albert Hall to hear Kreisler, and -she wandered up the Broad Walk under the trees, because she did not feel -that she could stand the noise and bustle of streets at a moment when -her whole soul was still full of the exquisite music conjured up by that -great magician. It was very hot and she was rather tired, so she sat -down on a chair in the shade. Then suddenly she saw Peter. He was coming -towards her, quite naturally, as if to an assignation. He looked just -the same as he always did--like a boy, clean and straight-limbed as a -young god, his eyes shining with excitement, that quaint, -self-deprecating smile on his lips that Rosemary knew so well. - -"I've been to hear old Kreisler," were the first words he said. "Wasn't -he wonderful?" - -So like Peter! He dragged a chair quite close to hers and sat down. He -threw down his hat and passed his hand through his hair. He did not -attempt to shake hands or to greet her in any way. "I've been to hear -old Kreisler!" So like Peter! The very first words . . . and she hadn't -seen him for nearly two years. - -After a second or two he went on: "I wouldn't speak to you in the Albert -Hall. When you went out I followed you. I knew you would wander out -here." - -And Rosemary asked quite casually: "Have you been in England long?" - -"Only a few hours," Peter replied with a laugh. "I crossed over by the -night boat, _via_ Havre. I always meant to sample that journey, and it -was really rather nice." After that he was silent for a moment; then -suddenly he seized her hand. She had no gloves on, and he held the soft -palm to his lips. Rosemary did not move. She was not looking at Peter; -she was just watching a huge blackbird that had landed on the elm tree -opposite and who was whistling away for dear life. - -"Rosemary, when can we be married?" Peter asked abruptly. - -She couldn't help smiling. It was so like Peter. "I've waited two years, -dash it all," he went on. "And during those two years I've been in hell. -Now I'm not going to wait any longer. When can we be married, Rosemary?" - -Then Rosemary ceased to watch the blackbird and turned slowly to look at -Peter. - -"Whenever you like, dear," she replied. - - - - -THE END - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIMPERNEL AND ROSEMARY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Pimpernel and Rosemary</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Emmuska Orczy</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: June 11, 2021 [eBook #65591]</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Laura Natal Rodrigues at Free Literature (Images generously made available by Hathi Trust Digital Library.)</div> - -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIMPERNEL AND ROSEMARY ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 500px;"> -<img src="images/pimpernel_cover.jpg" width="500" alt="" /> -</div> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h2>PIMPERNEL AND<br /> -ROSEMARY</h2> - - - -<h5>BY</h5> - -<h3>BARONESS ORCZY</h3> - - - - - -<h4>NEW YORK</h4> - -<h4>GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</h4> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p class="center">COPYRIGHT, 1925,<br /> -<br /> -BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY</p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<h4>CONTENTS</h4> -<p class="nind"><a href="#PROLOGUE">PROLOGUE</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII</a><br /> -<a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII</a></p> - -<hr class="r5" /> - -<p><br /></p> - - -<h4>PIMPERNEL AND ROSEMARY</h4> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4><a id="PROLOGUE">PROLOGUE</a></h4> - -<h5>§I</h5> - -<p> -This was in July 1916. -</p> - -<p> -The woman sat alone in the room downstairs, stitching, stitching, by the -flickering light of a small oil-lamp that stood on a ricketty deal table -close beside her. By the side of the lamp there were some half-dozen -khaki tunics, and the woman took up these tunics one by one, looked them -over and patted them and turned them about and about: then she took up -the scissors and undid a portion of the lining. After which she stitched -that portion of the lining up again, but not before she had inserted -something—something that was small and white and crisp and that she -took out from a fold in the bosom of her dress—between the lining and -the cloth. -</p> - -<p> -And this she did to each of the half dozen tunics in turn. -</p> - -<p> -The room was small and bare, the paper hung down from the walls in -strips, but it happened to have a ceiling that had only partially fallen -in during the last bombardment, and so it might be termed a luxurious -room, seeing that there were very few ceilings left in Guillaumet now. -There was no roof to the house, and not a pane of glass anywhere, but as -it was very hot this July, this was really an advantage. Quite a -pleasant draught stirred the tattered curtain that masked the broken -window and fanned the woman's dark, unruly hair about her damp forehead. -</p> - -<p> -She sat in ragged bodice and petticoat, her sleeves tucked up above her -elbows, her bodice open, showing throat and breasts that were not -unshapely. -</p> - -<p> -"You are kind to those English fellows, Alice," a dry, sarcastic voice -said suddenly, close behind her. -</p> - -<p> -The woman gave a start, and the hand that patted and folded the last of -the tunics shook ever so slightly. Her pale, wan face looked almost -ashen in hue in the dim light of the lamp. She turned and looked at the -newcomer, a tall, lean fellow with touzled dark hair and unshaven chin, -who lolled under the lintel of the door, chewing the stump of a cigar -and gazing at her with a kind of indulgently sarcastic expression in his -deep-set eyes. At sight of him she seemed reassured. It was only -Lucien—Lucien the vagrant, the picker-up of unconsidered trifles, -attached as porter to one of the American hospitals somewhere close by. -So everybody round about here understood. But no one ever inquired -further than that; everyone was too busy to trouble about other people's -affairs; and Lucien was useful and willing. Though he had a game leg he -would do anything he was asked—run errands, repair a derelict car, -clean boots, anything. Lucien l'Américain they called him. "The Yank" -the English flying boys from the aerodrome at Guillaumet had nicknamed -him. -</p> - -<p> -And they rather liked the Yank. Though he was as ugly as sin, swarthy, -most days unshaved and dirty, he was very amusing, had a fund of good -stories to relate, and was always ready for a gamble or a bit of fun. He -seemed plentifully supplied with money, too—tips, probably, which -he collected from the French or English officers over at the -hospital—and was very free with it in the way of drinks and -cigarettes for the boys. Latterly his open courtship of Alice Gerbier -had caused considerable amusement in Guillaumet. Alice was a good sort, -of course, but so jolly ugly, and not so young as she once was. It was -difficult to imagine any man wanting to make love to Alice Gerbier. But -Lucien l'Américain must have done it after a fashion of his own, before -Alice became his abject slave, fetching and carrying for him, working -her fingers to the bone, and sitting up half the night sewing shirts and -knitting socks for him. He took it all as a matter of course, and -treated her as if she were so much dirt. -</p> - -<p> -"The only way to treat women," he would remark cynically, whenever his -harshness toward poor Alice roused the indignation of one of the men. -</p> - -<p> -It was a curious courtship, and the boys who were quartered in old -mother Gerbier's house often wondered how it would end. Poor Alice! It -was her one chance. If she lost this undemonstrative admirer of hers she -would never get another. No doubt she felt that, poor thing, for at -times her eyes would look pathetically wistful, when she caught sight of -Lucien making himself agreeable to other women. -</p> - -<p> -Lucien l'Américain lolled into the room and came to a halt close beside -Alice's chair; with the air of a condescending pasha he patted her thin -shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"You are kinder to these fellows," he said, "than you are to me. Why the -dickens you should work so hard for them I don't know. You look -dog-tired, and it's swelteringly hot to-night. We shall have a storm, I -think." -</p> - -<p> -"The boys were saying they thought a storm was coming on," Alice said in -a tired, toneless voice, "and they were hoping it would soon be over." -</p> - -<p> -"Off as usual in the morning, I suppose," Lucien remarked curtly. -</p> - -<p> -The woman nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"And like a good soul you are putting a few stitches to their clothes, -eh?" the man went on, and jerked a grimy thumb in the direction of the -pile of tunics. -</p> - -<p> -"There's no one else to do it for them," the woman rejoined in the same -toneless, listless voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Rather a futile task," he rejoined drily. "What is a hole more or less -in a tunic? How many of these fellows will come back from their raid -to-morrow do you suppose? Most of these carefully mended tunics will -supplement the meagre wardrobes of our friend Fritz over the way, I'm -thinking." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps," the woman assented with a weary sigh. -</p> - -<p> -"How many of them are going to-morrow?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. All the men in this house are going." -</p> - -<p> -"And how many will come back do you think?" -</p> - -<p> -The woman shuddered and pressed her thin, colourless lips more tightly -together. The Yank gave a harsh laugh and shrugged his lean shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"These English flying men are very daring," he said lightly; "even Fritz -will admit that much. They'll take the maddest risks! I don't think that -you will see many of these tunics back here at close of day to-morrow." -</p> - -<p> -The woman, however, remained obstinately silent. Whilst Lucien threw -himself into a broken-down armchair that groaned under his weight, she -rose and gathered up the pile of tunics. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you doing with the things?" he asked querulously. "Can't you -sit still for once and talk to me?" -</p> - -<p> -He stretched out a long, muscular arm, succeeded in grabbing her dress, -and drew her with sudden violence towards him. She tried to resist and -to clutch the tunics tightly against her breast, but they fell out of -her arms in a heap on the floor. She would have stooped to pick them up, -but in a moment Lucien had her by the shoulders, forcing her to turn and -to look at him. -</p> - -<p> -"You are kinder to those fellows," he reiterated with his harsh laugh, -"than you are to me. Leave those things alone, I say, and get me -something to drink. What have you got in the house?" -</p> - -<p> -But Alice for once was obstinate. As a rule even an unspoken wish from -Lucien was a law unto her, but this time she wrenched herself free from -his grasp, and getting down on one knee she started picking up the -tunics from the floor. Lucien watched her for a moment or two through -half-closed lids, with an undefinable expression on his lean, swarthy -face, and a strange line, almost of cruelty, around his firm lips. -Apparently he was not accustomed to seeing his whims thwarted, and no -doubt he was impelled by the very human desire to probe his power upon -this fond and foolish woman, for suddenly he jumped up, gave the tunics -that were still on the floor a vigorous kick which sent them flying to -the farthest corner of the room, and roughly grabbed the others which -Alice was hugging to her breast. -</p> - -<p> -"I told you," he said with a savage oath, "to leave those things alone -and to get me a drink." -</p> - -<p> -For the space of a few seconds, Alice still hesitated; she looked up at -him with a pathetic expression of wistfulness and subjection, while she -wiped the palms of her moist hands against her tattered apron. Lucien's -eyes, meeting hers, lost their savage gleam; he looked almost ashamed of -his brutality. -</p> - -<p> -"That's all right, my girl," he said with an indulgent smile. "I didn't -mean to be unkind. Get me a drink, there's a good soul. Where did you -want to put these things?" he added, as he condescended to stoop and -collect the scattered tunics. -</p> - -<p> -Alice's wan face at once beamed with a joy as pathetic as her anxiety -had been just now. She even contrived to smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind about them, Lucien," she said, and with rather jerky -movements she wiped the top of the table with her apron. Then she turned -towards the door: "I'll put the things away presently. I can get you a -bottle of that wine you brought in the other day. Would you like that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I should," the Yank rejoined. "And then you can come and sit still -for a bit. That eternal stitch-stitching of yours gets on my nerves. -Now," he went on, and, having collected all the tunics, he placed them -back upon the table, "why you wanted to fiddle with these tunics I can't -imagine. They can't have needed mending. Why, they are practically new." -</p> - -<p> -He turned them over one by one: they were as he said, almost -new—beautiful khaki tunics, smart and well-cut, such as the British -government loved to serve out to its magnificent airmen. Then, as Alice -had suddenly come to a halt by the door, he half-turned to her, and -added in his usual harsh, peremptory tone: -</p> - -<p> -"Are you getting me that wine or are you not?" For a few seconds after -Alice had finally left the room Lucien l'Américain remained standing by -the table, his grimy hand upon the pile of tunics, motionless, his eyes -fixed upon the narrow doorway through which Alice had disappeared, his -ear bent, listening to her retreating footsteps. As soon as these had -died away down the stone steps which led to the cellar his whole -attitude changed. He threw the stump of his cigar away and, picking up one -of the tunics, he felt it all over scrupulously—all over, and with -both hands, until in one spot his sensitive fingers felt something that -had a slightly crackling, crisp sound about it when handled. -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon Lucien l'Américain drew a deep breath, and in his deep-set -eyes there came a quick flash of triumph. One by one, more quickly now -and more surely he picked up the tunics and felt each one in turn all -over until his fingers encountered the something crisp and crackling -which appeared hidden between the cloth and the lining, and while he did -so his face, never prepossessing, looked positively hideous; a cruel, -almost animal look distorted it, the lips drew back against the gums, -showing white teeth, sharp and gleaming like those of a wolf. -</p> - -<p> -"That's it, is it?" he muttered once or twice. "Not bad for a woman. Did -she think of it, I wonder." -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly his sharp ears detected the sound of Alice's tired footstep -coming up the cellar stairs. He laid the tunics back upon the table in a -neat pile, then he went to the window, drew the curtain slightly aside -and gave a low, prolonged whistle, which was almost immediately answered -by another from somewhere out in the darkness. -</p> - -<p> -Alice came in, carrying a bottle of wine and a mug. There was a scared -look in her eyes as she entered, and her glance swept quickly, anxiously -round the room first and then over the pile of tunics. Seeing them -neatly folded, she appeared relieved, and set the bottle and mug down -upon the table. She took a corkscrew from the table-drawer and proceeded -to draw the cork, whilst Lucien watched her with a smile round his lips -which the girl hardly dared to interpret. Now he lolled across to her. -His hands were in his pockets. She had succeeded in drawing the cork, -and was pouring the wine into the mug, when with a swift movement -Lucien's arm shot out and closed round her throat, whilst his other hand -was clapped firmly against her mouth. -</p> - -<p> -She had not the time to scream. The bottle of wine fell out of her hand, -crashing on the floor and the wine flowed in a stream along the cracks -of the worm-eaten wood in the direction of the door. Her eyes, dilated -with horror, stared into vacancy, her hands with fingers outspread were -stretched out straight before her. Lucien l'Américain never uttered a -word; he just held her in a grip of iron, smothering any attempt she -might make to scream. Less than twenty seconds went by whilst he held -the woman thus, and she passed from an excess of horror into -semi-consciousness. Then from the outer passage there came the sound of -stealthy footsteps, and the next moment two men dressed in rough peasant -clothes came into the room. Lucien l'Américain motioned to them with a -glance, and silently, almost noiselessly, they closed in around the -woman and in a moment had her secure between them and marched her out of -the room, she going like a sleepwalker with eyes closed and lips tightly -pressed together, her face a reflex of the horror which had Invaded her -soul. -</p> - -<p> -Lucien l'Américain, left alone in the room, took up one of the tunics -and with Alice's scissors he carefully undid a few stitches in the -lining. His deft fingers then groped in the aperture, until they came in -contact with something crisp and crackling, which he drew out and -examined. It was a small sheet of thin paper closely covered with minute -handwriting, and then folded into as small a compass as had been -possible. By the flickering light of the oil-lamp the Yank tried to -decipher some of the writing; his face had become expressionless as -marble. It seemed as if with the unmasking of the woman, his interest in -the event had ceased. -</p> - -<p> -The paper contained information which would have been of enormous -importance to the Germans. Having skimmed the written matter through, -Lucien folded up the paper again and slipped it in a pocket-book, which -he carried next to his skin. After that he took up the tunics one by -one, and still with the aid of Alice's scissors he extracted the same -message which was concealed in the selfsame way between the lining and -the cloth of each tunic, and these also he put away in his pocket-book. -</p> - -<p> -He had only just finished his task when from down the village street -there rose the joyful sound of lusty throats singing "Tipperary!" and a -minute or two later half a dozen boys in khaki made noisy irruption into -the house. -</p> - -<p> -At once there was loud shouting of "Alice! Alice, where art thou? What -ho, my Alice!" And one of the boys started singing "The Roses of -Picardy." -</p> - -<p> -"Hallo, Yank!" came from another of them, who had just caught sight of -Lucien. "What the——have you done with Alice?" -</p> - -<p> -"She'll be back directly," Lucien shouted in response. "I've promised to -meet her, so can't stop. S'long!" -</p> - -<p> -He dashed out of the house, and in a moment the darkness had swallowed -him up. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h5>§2</h5> - -<p> -Three days later. Half an hour after the break of dawn. In a moderately -well-furnished room in the town hall of Lille an elderly man was sitting -over a scanty <i>petit-déjeuner.</i> He had an intellectual face, with -high-bred features and sparse grey hair carefully brushed across his -cranium so as to hide the beginnings of baldness. From time to time he -cast eager eyes at the door opposite to where he was sitting or anxious -ones at the clock upon the mantel-shelf. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly his whole face brightened up with eager expectancy. He had just -perceived the sound of a harsh voice coming from the next room, and -demanding peremptorily to speak with M. de Kervoisin. -</p> - -<p> -A servant entered, but de Kervoisin was too impatient to allow him to -speak. -</p> - -<p> -"Number Ten is it?" he queried sharply, and at once added, "Show him -in." -</p> - -<p> -A tall, ragged, uncouth, unshaved creature sauntered into the room, with -hands in pockets and a chawed cigar stump in the corner of his mouth. -Strangely enough the elegant high-bred M. de Kervoisin received this -extraordinary visitor with the utmost courtesy. He rose to greet him, -shook him warmly by the hand, offered him a chair, coffee, liqueurs, -cigarettes. The newcomer declined everything except the armchair, into -which he threw himself with obvious satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -"Tired, my friend?" M. de Kervoisin queried amiably. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course," the other replied curtly. "I have been up nearly two -hours." -</p> - -<p> -"The want of sleep," M. de Kervoisin murmured with an engaging smile. -Then he added drily: "And I suppose some emotion . . ." -</p> - -<p> -"Emotion?" the other broke in with a harsh laugh. "None, I assure you, -save what is pleasurable." -</p> - -<p> -"What? To see a woman shot?" -</p> - -<p> -He who went by the strange appellation of Number Ten threw aside the -chawed stump of his cigar, then he carefully selected a cigarette from -M. de Kervoisin's case, and lit it leisurely before he replied: -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, my friend . . . to see a woman shot. Have you never seen a human -creature shot or hung?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, never!" M. de Kervoisin replied with a shudder. "And I hope I never -may." -</p> - -<p> -"It is a thrill well worth experiencing," the other remarked and blew -rings of cigarette smoke through his pursed lips. "Yes," he went on -drily, "well worth experiencing." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" M. de Kervoisin rejoined with a sigh, "you English are -astonishing." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I dare say we seem so to you," Number Ten retorted. "But we do not -shoot women." -</p> - -<p> -"So I understand. The danger of spies is not quite so acute with you as -it is with us; and this woman was really dangerous." -</p> - -<p> -"She was dangerous because she was so extraordinarily clever. In all my -experience I never came across anything quite so ingenious as the way -she went to work." -</p> - -<p> -"She worked from the British aerodrome, I think you told me, behind -Guillaumet?" -</p> - -<p> -"And calculated that out of every half-dozen English machines that went -up, at least three would come down behind the German lines: so she -inserted all the information she could get in the linings of the -airmen's tunics. A clever idea," Number Ten added thoughtfully, "and in -the end I only discovered the trick by accident." -</p> - -<p> -He smiled, and stared for a second straight out before him, and as he -did so memory brought back vividly the picture of the tumble-down house -at Guillaumet, and Alice Gerbier sitting there, stitching, stitching -with the pile of tunics before her, and he himself—disguised as a -loafer, commonly called Lucien l'Américain, for no particular reason, -as he certainly was not American—hanging round the woman for weeks, -vaguely suspecting at first, then certain, then wondering how the trick -was done, the clever trick whereby so much valuable information was -conveyed to the Germans, information that could only have been obtained -in the neighbourhood of the English aerodrome. And he saw himself, the -spy-tracker, the secret-service agent, carefully setting the trap which -had ensnared so many women ever since the world began, the trap set with -a bait to lure a woman's vanity, and an old maid's passionate longing -for love. And to these memory pictures another now was added, the -picture of Alice Gerbier in the early dawn in the prison yard of Lille, -with her back to the wall, and a handkerchief over her eyes, and a -platoon of soldiers with rifles raised. And gradually as these pictures -passed before his mind's eye, became strangely vivid and then passed by -again, the man's expressive face became hideous in its aspect of -ruthless cruelty. The eyes narrowed till they were mere slits, the lips -curled up over the gums displaying a row of teeth pointed and sharp as -those of a wolf. -</p> - -<p> -A discreet cough from M. de Kervoisin roused him from his meditation. -</p> - -<p> -"You are certainly a prince amongst secret service agents, my friend," -M. de Kervoisin said suavely. "I don't know what we should do without -you. But Alice Gerbier certainly represents your crowning triumph." -</p> - -<p> -Number Ten gave a harsh laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"It certainly was a thrill," he said coolly, "well worth experiencing." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I</a></h4> - -<p> -To Peter Blakeney, Rosemary Fowkes' engagement to his friend Tarkington -seemed not only incredible, but impossible. The end of the world! Death! -Annihilation! Hell! Anything! -</p> - -<p> -But it could not be true. -</p> - -<p> -He was playing at Lord's that day; Tarkington told him the news at the -luncheon interval, and Peter had thought for the moment that for once in -his life Tarkington must be drunk. But Tarkington looked just as he -always did—grave, impassive, and wonderfully kind. Indeed, he seemed -specially kind just then. Perhaps he knew. Perhaps Rosemary had told -him. Women were so queer. Perhaps she did tell Tarkington that he, -Peter, had once been fool enough to—— -</p> - -<p> -Anyway, Tarkington was sober, and very grave and kind, and he told Peter -in his quiet, unemotional way that he considered himself the happiest -man on God's earth. Of course he was, if Rosemary——But it was -impossible! Impossible! IMPOSSIBLE! -</p> - -<p> -That afternoon Peter hit many boundaries, and at the end of play was 148 -not out. -</p> - -<p> -In the evening he went to the Five Arts' Ball at the Albert Hall. He -knew that Rosemary would be there; he had designed the dress she would -be wearing, and Tarkington told him, sometime during that afternoon, -that he was taking his fiancée to the ball. -</p> - -<p> -His fiancée! Dear old Tarkington! So kind, so unemotional! Rosemary's -husband presently! Ye gods! -</p> - -<p> -At the Albert Hall ball Peter wore that beautiful Hungarian national -dress that had belonged to his grandfather, a wonderful dress of -semi-barbaric splendour, with the priceless fifteenth-century jewellery -which he had inherited from his mother—the buttons, the sword-belt, -the clasp for the mantle—they had been in the Heves family ever since -it was fashioned by Florentine workmen imported into Hungary by a mediæval -queen. Peter dressed himself with the greatest care. If a thing was -worth doing at all, it was worth doing well, and Rosemary had said once -that she would like to see him in the dress. -</p> - -<p> -But during that hot afternoon at Lord's, while he dressed, and now -inside the crowded, stuffy Albert Hall, Peter did not feel as if he were -really alive. He did not feel like a personage in a dream, he only felt -that the world as he had seen it since luncheon time, was not a real -world. Someone had invented something altogether new in opposition to -the Creator, and he, Peter, being no longer alive, was permitted a -private view of the novelty. -</p> - -<p> -It appeared to be a very successful novelty. At any rate, the numberless -puppets who raised shrill voices so that Peter might hear what they -said, all declared that this ball was incontestably the most successful -function of the season. -</p> - -<p> -Just as in the real world, Peter thought, where every function is always -incontestably the most successful function of the season. -</p> - -<p> -Other shrill voices declared in Peter's hearing that this function had -been more than usually well-managed. It had been splendidly advertised, -and the tickets had sold like the proverbial hot cakes. -</p> - -<p> -And Peter was quite sure that somewhere in the dead, forgotten world of -long ago he had heard such an expression of opinion over and over again. -</p> - -<p> -Anyway, in this Albert Hall of the newly invented world things were much -as they had been in the old. It was crowded. At one time there was -hardly room enough to move, let alone to dance. Certain contortions of -the body being called dancing, now as then, and certain demoniacal -sounds made on hellish instruments by gentlemen of colour being called -dance music, the floor of the hall, raised to the level of the -lower-tier boxes, was given over to the performance of various gyrations -more or less graceful, whilst Peter looked on, strangely familiar with -this new world of unrealities, which had only been invented a few hours -ago, when Tarkington told him of his engagement to Rosemary Fowkes. -</p> - -<p> -He knew just how it would be! -</p> - -<p> -In to-morrow's issue of the <i>Morning Star</i> or the <i>Talk of the -Town</i>, the thousands who gyrated here or who looked on at the gyrations -of others would be referred to as being "also present." -</p> - -<p> -He, Peter Blakeney, the famous cricketer and distinguished V.C., would -be referred to as being "also present," and there would be a photograph -of him with a set grin on his face and his eyes staring out of his head -like those of a lunatic at large, in all the illustrated weeklies. This -was as it should be. It was well worth paying two guineas (supper -included) for the privilege of being referred to as "also present" in -this distinguished company of puppets that included both home and -foreign royalties. -</p> - -<p> -Of course there were others, the select few who would be referred to in -the columns of the <i>Morning Star</i> or the <i>Talk of the Town</i> with -charming familiarity as Lord Algy Fitznoodle, or Miss Baby Tomkins, or -simply as Lady Poots or Lord Tim. -</p> - -<p> -"While I was chatting with Lady Poots, etc." -</p> - -<p> -"Lady Vi Dartmouth, with her beautiful hair shingled, etc., etc." -</p> - -<p> -"The Marchioness of Flint came with her girls, etc." -</p> - -<p> -All of which Peter knew by intuition would be vastly interesting to the -suburban little madams who read the <i>Talk of the Town</i> in this world -of unrealities, and he was willing to leave it at that, well knowing that -the puppets named Miss Baby or Lady Vi would not think of being absent -from the Five Arts' Ball. It was the acme of smartness, of Bohemian -smartness, that is to say: the smartness of Chelsea and fashionable -studios, which is so much smarter than the smartness of Mayfair. -</p> - -<p> -And Peter—a kind of disembodied Peter—watched the throng. Ye -gods! what a motley and a medley! -</p> - -<p> -Polychromatic and kaleidoscopic, iridescent and prismatic, ceaselessly -on the move, mercurial, restless, ever stirring, fluttering fans, -fingering clothes, adjusting coiffures, lapels, frills, hair-ornaments -and feathers! And talking! Talking incessantly, with voices hard and -high-pitched trying to rise above other voices that were harder and -higher of pitch. Dazzling to eye and ear; exciting to nerves and sense, -the atmosphere a mixture of odours: of powders, cosmetics, perfumes, -heat, gas, and a score of other indefinable scents. -</p> - -<p> -The picture quite brilliant; not without touches of unconscious humour: -Marie Antoinette flirting with Robespierre, Russian moujik in familiar -converse with a jewelled Catherine, Queen Elizabeth condescending to -pre-historic man. And then Pierrots, Pierrots everywhere, of every -conceivable motley and shape. Blue Pierrots and yellow Pierrots! white -or black, purple with orange frills, and orange with purple frills, -black skull caps and tall white peaks. Pierrots of satin, and Pierrots -of gingham! Cool and active! Ye gods! how active! Bohemian smartness, it -seems, demanded that its Pierrots should be bright and amusing and -active. -</p> - -<p> -From his point of vantage on the floor of the hall Peter scanned the -semicircle of boxes where sat more puppets, hundreds of them, watching -the thousands down below. -</p> - -<p> -What was the good of them? Peter thought. Why had God made them? What -use were they in this new world which some wanton sprite had fashioned -in opposition to the Creator? They fluttered their fans, they laughed, -they jabbered, and did not seem to know that they, just like Peter, had -become unreal and disembodied at the precise moment when Rosemary Fowkes -promised to become Jasper Tarkington's wife. -</p> - -<p> -And then suddenly the puppets all faded away. The new world ceased to -be, there was no hall, no dancing, no music, no more puppets, no more -Pierrots. There was only Rosemary, and she came up to Peter and said -quite gaily, naturally, in a voice that belonged to the old world, not -the new: -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you ask me to dance, Peter?" -</p> - -<p> -After that—well, dancing permits, necessitates, holding the partner -in one's arm. And Peter danced with Rosemary. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II</a></h4> - -<p> -Lady Orange always had a box for the big functions at the Albert Hall. -It was chic, it was right and it was convenient. It gave her an -opportunity of entertaining distinguished foreigners <i>de passage</i> in -London in a manner that was both original and expensive. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Orange prided herself on her internationalism, and delighted to -gather distinguished foreigners about her; members and attachés of -minor embassies invariably graced her dinner parties. She often referred -to her attainments as "bi-lingual," and in effect she spoke French with -a perfect Geneva accent. She thought it <i>bon ton</i> to appear bored at -every social function except those which took place at her house in -Belgrave Square, and now when a procession made up of bedizened unities -marched in double file past her box she remarked languidly: -</p> - -<p> -"I think they show a singular lack of imagination. One would have -thought Chelsea artists would have invented something unique, -picturesque for themselves." -</p> - -<p> -"They only thought of comfort, perhaps. But it is they who gave the -impetus to the imagination of others. Not?" -</p> - -<p> -The man who sat next to Lady Orange spoke with certain gestures of hands -and arms that would have proclaimed him a foreigner even apart from his -appearance—the somewhat wide expanse of white waistcoat, the -ultra-smart cut of his evening clothes, the diamond ring on his finger. -He had large, mellow dark eyes, which he used with great effect when he -spoke to women, and full lips half-concealed under a heavy black -moustache. He had a soft, rich voice, and spoke English with that -peculiar intonation which is neither Italian nor Slav, but has the -somewhat unpleasant characteristics of both; and he had large, -well-shaped, podgy hands all covered with a soft dark down that extended -almost to his finger-tips. -</p> - -<p> -Lady Orange, who had pale, round eyes and arched eyebrows that lent to -her face a perpetual look of surprise, gazed intelligently about her. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, <i>oui!</i>" she sighed vaguely. "<i>Vous avez raison!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -She would have liked to continue the conversation in French, but General -Naniescu was equally determined to speak English. -</p> - -<p> -As Lady Orange was going to Bucharest shortly, and desired an -introduction to august personages there, she thought it best to humour -the general's whim. -</p> - -<p> -"How well you express yourself in our barbarous tongue, M. le -Général," she said kindly. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, madame," the general replied, with an expressive shrug, "we in our -country are at such disadvantage in the social life of great cities like -London and Paris, that we must strive to win our way by mastering the -intricacies of language, so as to enable us to converse freely with the -intelligentsia of the West who honour us by their gracious acceptance." -</p> - -<p> -"You are a born courtier, Monsieur le Général," Lady Orange rejoined -with a gracious smile. "Is he not, <i>ma chère?</i>" And with the edge of -her large feather fan she tapped the knees of an elderly lady who sat -the other side of M. le Général. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Mademoiselle Fairfax was not listening to my foolish remarks," -General Naniescu said, turning the battery of his mellow eyes on the -somewhat frumpish old maid. -</p> - -<p> -"No," Miss Fairfax admitted drily. "Monsieur de Kervoisin here on my -left was busy trying to convert me to the dullness of Marcel Proust. He -is not succeeding." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" exclaimed Naniescu suavely, "you English ladies! You are so -intellectual and so deliciously obstinate. So proud of your glorious -literature that even the French modernists appear poor in your sight." -</p> - -<p> -"There, you see, <i>ma chère</i>," Lady Orange put in with her habitual -vagueness, "always the courtier." -</p> - -<p> -"How can one help being a courtier, dear lady, when for hours one is -thrown in a veritable whirlpool of beauty, brilliance and wit? Look at -this dazzling throng before us," the general went on, with a fine sweep -of his arm. "The eyes are nearly blinded with its magnificence. Is it -not so, my dear Kervoisin?" -</p> - -<p> -This last remark he made in French, for M. de Kervoisin spoke not a word -of English. He was a small, spare man, with thin grey beard neatly -trimmed into a point, and thin grey hair carefully arranged so as to -conceal the beginnings of baldness. Around his deep-set grey eyes there -was a network of wrinkles; they were shrewd, piercing eyes, with little, -if any, softness in them. M. de Kervoisin, whose name proclaimed him a -native of Brittany, was financial adviser to a multiplicity of small, -newly created states, all of whom were under the tutelage of France. His -manner was quiet and self-effacing when social or political questions -were on the tapis, and he only appeared to warm up when literature or -the arts were being discussed. He fancied himself as a Mæcenas rather -than a financier. Marcel Proust was his hobby for the moment, because -above all things he prided himself on modernity, and on his desire to -keep abreast of every literary and artistic movement that had risen in -the one country that he deemed of intellectual importance, namely his -own. -</p> - -<p> -For the moment he felt vaguely irritated because Miss Fairfax—a -seemingly unpretentious and socially unimportant elderly -female—refused to admit that there was not a single modern English -prose writer that could compare with Proust. To the general's direct -challenge he only replied drily. -</p> - -<p> -"Very brilliant indeed, my good Naniescu; but, you know, I have seen so -much in my day that sights like these have no longer the power to stir -me." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry for you," Miss Fairfax retorted with old-maidish bluntness. -"I have been about the world a good deal myself, but I find it always a -pleasure to look at pretty people. Look at Rosemary Fowkes now," she -went on, addressing no one in particular, "did you ever in all your life -see anything so beautiful?" -</p> - -<p> -She made lively little gestures of greeting, and pointed to a couple on -the dancing-floor below. Lady Orange turned her perpetually surprised -gaze in that direction, and General Naniescu uttered an exaggerated cry -of admiration. Even M. de Kervoisin appeared interested. -</p> - -<p> -"Who is the lady?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"She is Rosemary Fowkes," Miss Fairfax said, "one of the most -distinguished——" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! I entreat you, mademoiselle, tell us no more," the general -exclaimed with mock protest; "a lovely woman needs no other label but -her own loveliness. She is distinguished amongst all because she is -beautiful. What else should a woman be when she is the finest work the -Creator ever produced—an enchantress?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well," Miss Fairfax rejoined dryly, "I would scold you, general, for -those lyrical effusions if they were intended for anybody else. Pretty -women are usually silly, because from childhood upwards they have been -taught to use their intellect solely for purposes of self-contemplation -and self-admiration. But Rosemary Fowkes is an exception. She is not -only beautiful, but brilliantly clever. Surely you remember those -articles in the <i>International Review</i> on the subject of 'The Evils of -Bureaucracy in the Near East'? They were signed 'Uno,' and many doubted -at the time that the writer was a woman, and a young one at that." -</p> - -<p> -"Uno?" General Naniescu exclaimed, and threw a significant glance at M. -de Kervoisin, who in his turn uttered an astonished "Ah!" and leaned -over the edge of the box in order to take a closer view of the lady -under discussion. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III</a></h4> - -<p> -Indeed no lyrical effusion would seem exaggerated if dedicated to -Rosemary Fowkes. She was one of those women on whom Nature seemed to -have showered every one of her most precious gifts. There are few words -that could adequately express the peculiar character of her beauty. She -was tall, and her figure was superb; but there are many tall, -beautifully built women. She had hair the colour of horse-chestnuts when -first they fall out of their prickly green cases, and her skin was as -delicately transparent as egg-shell china; but Rosemary's charm did not -lie in the colour of her hair or the quality of her skin. It lay in -something more undefinable. Perhaps it was in her eyes. Surely, surely -it was in her eyes. People were wont to say they were "haunting," like -the eyes of a pixie or of a fairy. They were not blue, nor were they -green or grey, but they were all three at times, according as Rosemary -was pleased or amused or thoughtful; and when she was pleased or amused -she would screw up those pixie eyes of hers, and three adorable little -lines that were not wrinkles would form on each side of her nose, like -those on the nose of a lion cub. -</p> - -<p> -Her chestnut-coloured hair lay in luscious waves over her forehead and -round her perfectly shaped little head, and when she smiled her small -white teeth would gleam through her full, parted lips. -</p> - -<p> -Eschewing the fantastic pierrot costumes of the hour, Rosemary Fowkes -was dressed in a magnificent Venetian gown of the fifteenth century, the -rich crimson folds of which set off her stately figure as well as the -radiant colouring of her skin and hair. She wore a peculiarly shaped -velvet cap, the wings of which fastened under her chin, thus -accentuating the perfect oval of the face and the exquisite contour of -forehead and cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -"A woman so beautiful has no right to be clever," General Naniescu -remarked with an affected sigh. "It is not fair to the rest of her sex." -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Fowkes is certainly very gifted," Lady Orange remarked drily, her -enthusiasm apparently being less keen on the subject of Rosemary than -that of Miss Fairfax. -</p> - -<p> -"And who is the happy man," M. de Kervoisin put in his dry, ironic -tone, "with whom the enchantress is dancing?" -</p> - -<p> -"Peter Blakeney," Miss Fairfax replied curtly. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Qui ça</i>, Peter Blakeney?" -</p> - -<p> -"Peter Blakeney, Peter Blakeney! He does not know who is Peter -Blakeney!" Lady Orange exclaimed, and for this supreme moment she -departed from her habitual vagueness of attitude, whilst her glance -became more markedly astonished than before. -</p> - -<p> -Two or three young people who sat at the back of the box tittered -audibly, and gazed at General Naniescu as if he were indeed an -extraordinary specimen lately presented to the Zoo. -</p> - -<p> -"Remember, dear lady," General Naniescu put in, wholly unperturbed by -the sensation which his innocent query had provoked, "that M. de -Kervoisin and I are but strangers in your wonderful country, and that no -doubt it is our want of knowledge of your language that causes us to -seem ignorant of some of your greatest names in literature or the Arts." -</p> - -<p> -"It is not a case of literature or the Arts, <i>mon cher général</i>," Lady -Orange condescended to explain. "Peter Blakeney is the finest -cover-point England ever had." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! political sociology?" M. de Kervoisin queried blandly. -</p> - -<p> -"Political what?" -</p> - -<p> -"The Secret Points, no doubt you mean, dear lady?" the general went on, -politely puzzled. "Advanced Communism, what? M. Blakeney is then a -disciple of Lenin?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know what you are talking about," Lady Orange sighed. "Peter -Blakeney is the finest cricketer Eton and Oxford have ever produced." -</p> - -<p> -"Cricket!" exclaimed the general, while M. de Kervoisin uttered a -significant "Ah!" -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment of quite uncomfortable silence. Naniescu was -thoughtfully stroking his luxurious moustache, and a gentle, indulgent -smile hovered round the thin lips of M. de Kervoisin. -</p> - -<p> -"It is interesting," Naniescu said suavely after a moment or two, "to -see two such world-famous people given over to the pleasure of the -dance." -</p> - -<p> -"They are excellent dancers, both of them," Lady Orange assented -placidly, even though she had a vague sense of uneasiness that the two -foreigners were laughing surreptitiously at something or at her. -</p> - -<p> -"And we may suppose," the general continued, "that a fine young man like -Mr. Blakeney has some other mission in life than the playing of -cricket." -</p> - -<p> -"He hasn't time for anything else," came in indignant protest from a -young lady with shingled hair. "He plays for England, in Australia, -South Africa, all over the world. Isn't that good enough?" -</p> - -<p> -"More than enough, dear lady," assented Naniescu with a bland smile. -"Indeed, it were foolish to expect the greatest—what did you call -him?—secret point to waste his time on other trifling matters." -</p> - -<p> -"Cover-point, <i>mon général</i>," Lady Orange suggested indulgently, -whilst the young people at the back broke into uproarious mirth. -"Cover-point, not secret." -</p> - -<p> -"Peter Blakeney rowed two years in the 'Varsity eights," one of the -young people interposed, hot in the defence of a popular hero. Then he -added with characteristic English shamefacedness when subjects of that -sort are mentioned, "And he got a V.C. in the war." -</p> - -<p> -"He is a jolly fine chap, and ever so good-looking," rejoined the pretty -girl with the shingled hair. She shot a provocative glance in the -direction of the two ignorant dagoes who had never even heard of Peter -Blakeney, and then she added, "He couldn't help being jolly and fine and -all that, as he is the great-grandson——" -</p> - -<p> -"No, kid, not the great-grandson," broke in one of her friends. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, the great-grandson," the young girl insisted. -</p> - -<p> -There was a short and heated argument, while General Naniescu and M. de -Kervoisin looked courteously puzzled. Then Miss Fairfax was appealed to. -</p> - -<p> -"Miss Fairfax, isn't Peter Blakeney the great-grandson of the 'Scarlet -Pimpernel'?" -</p> - -<p> -And Miss Fairfax, who knew everything, settled the point. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter," she said, "is the great-grandson of Jack Blakeney, who was -known as the Little Pimpernel, and was the Scarlet Pimpernel's eldest -son. In face and figure he is the image of that wonderful portrait by -Romney of Sir Percy Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"Hurrah for me!" exclaimed the one who had been right, whilst the pretty -girl with the shingled hair threw a glance at the handsome Roumanian, -which conveyed an eloquent "So there!" -</p> - -<p> -General Naniescu shrugged amiably. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" he said, "now I understand. When one gets the youth of England on -the subject of its Scarlet Pimpernel, one can only smile and hold one's -tongue." -</p> - -<p> -"I think," Miss Fairfax concluded, "that Peter is the best-looking and -the best-dressed man in the hall to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"You stab me to the heart, dear lady," the general protested with mock -chagrin, "though I am willing to admit that the descendant of your -national hero has much of his mother's good looks." -</p> - -<p> -"Did you know Mrs. Blakeney, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Only by sight and before her marriage. She was a Hungarian lady of -title, Baroness Heves," General Naniescu replied, with a shrug that had -in it a vague suggestion of contempt. "I guessed that our young cricket -player was her son from the way he wears the Hungarian national dress." -</p> - -<p> -"I was wondering what the dress was," Lady Orange remarked vaguely, -thankful that the conversation had drifted back to a more equable -atmosphere. "It is very picturesque and very becoming." -</p> - -<p> -"And quite mediæval and Asiatic, do you not think so, dear lady? The -Hungarian aristocrats used to go to their Court dressed in that barbaric -fashion in the years before the war." -</p> - -<p> -"And very handsome they must have looked, judging by Peter Blakeney's -appearance to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"I knew the mother, too," Miss Fairfax remarked gently; "she was a -dear." -</p> - -<p> -"She is dead, then?" M. de Kervoisin asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, some years ago, my dear friend," the general replied. "It was -a tragic story, I remember, but I have forgotten its details." -</p> - -<p> -"No one ever knew it over here," was Miss Fairfax's somewhat terse -comment, which seemed to suggest that further discussion on the subject -would be unwelcome. -</p> - -<p> -General Naniescu, nevertheless, went on with an indifferent shrug and -that same slightly contemptuous tone in his voice. "Hungarian women are -most of them ill-balanced. But by your leave, gracious ladies, we will -not trouble our heads any longer with that young man, distinguished -though his cricket-playing career may have been. To me he is chiefly -interesting because he dances in perfect harmony with Venus Aphrodite." -</p> - -<p> -"Whose Vulcan, I imagine, he would gladly be," M. de Kervoisin remarked -with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"A desire shared probably by many, or is the one and only Vulcan already -found?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, in the person of Lord Tarkington," Miss Fairfax replied. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Qui ça</i>, Lord Tarkington?" the general queried again. -</p> - -<p> -"You are determined to know everything, <i>mon cher général</i>," Lady -Orange retorted playfully. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, but Mademoiselle Fairfax is such a wonderful encyclopædia of -social science, and since my attention has been purposefully drawn to -Aphrodite, my curiosity with regard to Vulcan must be satisfied. -Mademoiselle, I beg you to tell me all about him." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," Julia Fairfax resumed good-humouredly, "all I can tell you is -that Jasper Tarkington is one of the few rich peers left in England; and -this is all the more remarkable as his uncle, the late Lord Tarkington, -was one of the poorest. Nobody seems to know where Jasper got his money. -I believe that he practically owns one of the most prosperous seaside -towns on the South Coast. I forget which. Anyway, he is in a position to -give Rosemary just what she wants and everything that she craves for, -except perhaps——" -</p> - -<p> -Miss Fairfax paused and shrugged her thin shoulders. Taunted by General -Naniescu, she refused to complete the sentence she had so tantalizingly -left half-spoken. -</p> - -<p> -"Lord Tarkington is a great friend of your country, General Naniescu," -she said abruptly. "Surely you must know him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Tarkington?" the general mused. "Tarkington? I ought to remember, -but——" -</p> - -<p> -"He was correspondent for the <i>Daily Post</i> at the time that your -troops marched into Hungary in 1919." -</p> - -<p> -"Surely you are mistaken, dear lady. Tarkington? I am sure I should -remember the name. My poor misjudged country has so few friends in -England I should not be likely to forget." -</p> - -<p> -"Lord Tarkington only came into the title on the death of his uncle a -year ago," Lady Orange condescended to explain. -</p> - -<p> -"And he was called something else before that," the general sighed -affectedly. "Ah, your English titles! Another difficulty we poor -foreigners encounter when we come to your wonderful country. I knew once -an English gentleman who used to come to Roumania to shoot with a friend -of mine. He came four times in four years and every time he had a -different name." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Délicieux!</i>" Lady Orange murmured, feeling that in this statement -the Roumanian general was paying an unconscious tribute to the English -aristocracy. "Do tell me who it was, <i>mon cher général.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot exactly tell you who he was, kind lady. When first I knew the -gentleman he was Mr. Oldemarsh. Then somebody died and he became Lord -Henry Oldemarsh. The following year somebody else died and he was -Viscount Rawcliffe, and when last I saw him he was the Marquis of -Barchester. Since then I have lost sight of him, but I have no doubt -that when I see him he will have changed his name again." -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Vous êtes vraiment délicieux, mon cher</i>," Lady Orange exclaimed, -more convinced than ever that there was only one aristocracy in the -whole of Europe, and that was the English. "No wonder you were puzzled." -</p> - -<p> -She would have liked to have entered on a long dissertation on a subject -which interested her more than any other—a dissertation which would -have embraced the Domesday Book and the entire feudal system; but -Naniescu and Miss Fairfax were once more discussing Rosemary Fowkes and -her fiancé. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose," the Roumanian was saying, "that Lord Tarkington has given -up journalism altogether now?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know," Miss Fairfax replied. "Lord Tarkington never talks about -himself. But Rosemary will never give up her work. She may be in love -with Jasper for the moment, but she is permanently enamoured of power, -of social and political power, which her clever pen will always secure -for her, in a greater degree even than Tarkington's wealth and -position." -</p> - -<p> -"Power?" the general said thoughtfully. "Ah, yes. The writer of those -articles in the <i>International Review</i> can lay just claim to political -power. They did my unfortunate country a good deal of harm at that time, -for they appeared as a part of that insidious propaganda which we are -too proud, and alas, also too poor, to combat adequately. Over here in -England people do not appear to understand how difficult it is to subdue -a set of rebellious, arrogant people like the Hungarians, who don't seem -to have realised yet that they have lost the war." -</p> - -<p> -Lady Orange gave a little scream of horror. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Pour l'amour de Dieu</i>," she exclaimed, "keep away from politics, -<i>mon cher général.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"A thousand pardons, gracious friend," he retorted meekly, "the sight of -that lovely lady who did my poor country so much harm brought words to -my tongue which should have remained unspoken in your presence." -</p> - -<p> -"I expect you would be interested to meet Rosemary," said the practical -Miss Fairfax, with her slightly malicious smile. "You might convert her, -you know." -</p> - -<p> -"My only wish would be," General Naniescu replied with obvious -sincerity, "to make her see the truth. It would indeed be an honour to -pay my devoirs to the lovely 'Uno.'" -</p> - -<p> -"I can arrange that for you easily enough," rejoined Lady Orange. -</p> - -<p> -She leaned over the edge of the box, and with that playful gesture which -seemed habitual to her she tapped with her fan the shoulder of a man who -was standing just below, talking to a friend. -</p> - -<p> -"When this dance is over, George," she said to him, "tell Rosemary -Fowkes to come into my box." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell her that a distinguished Roumanian desires to lay his homage at -her feet," Miss Fairfax added bluntly. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think Sir George will prevail on the divinity?" the general -asked eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -Just then the dance was over, the coloured musicians ceased to bawl, and -there was a general movement and confusion down below through which Sir -George Orange, ever obedient to his wife's commands, could be seen -vainly striving to find a beautiful needle in a tumbled and unruly -haystack. He came back to the side of his wife's box after a while. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't find her," he said apologetically. "She has probably gone to -get an ice or something. Tarkington was also looking for her." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," said Lady Orange placidly, turning her surprised gaze on General -Naniescu, "suppose you and M. de Kervoisin take us up to supper in the -meanwhile. We'll capture Rosemary later, I promise you." -</p> - -<p> -The party in the box broke up. The young people went downstairs to dance -whilst the two foreigners gallantly escorted the elderly ladies up -innumerable flights of stairs to a cold and cheerless upper story, where -an exceedingly indigestible supper washed down with salad dressing and -coloured soda-water was served to Pierrots, Marie Antoinettes, Indian -squaws, and others who crowded round the tables and fought eagerly for -unwashed forks and glasses of doubtful cleanliness. -</p> - -<p> -The Five Arts' Ball was indeed a huge success. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV</a></h4> - -<p> -"Would you like anything?" Peter Blakeney asked of his partner while he -steered her clear of the crowded dancing floor. -</p> - -<p> -"I am rather thirsty," Rosemary replied, "but I could not stand that -awful supper upstairs." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, look here," he urged, "you slip into one of the empty boxes and -I'll forage for you." -</p> - -<p> -They found a box on the upper tier, the occupants of which had probably -gone off to supper. Rosemary sat down and pulled the curtain forward; -thus ensconced in a cosy corner of the box she drew a contented little -sigh, glad to be in the dark and alone. Peter went to forage and she -remained quite still, gazing—unseeing—on the moving crowd -below. She was hot and felt rather breathless, her chestnut hair, below -the velvet cap, clung against her forehead, and tiny beads of moisture -appeared round the wings of her delicately modelled nose. The last dance -had been intoxicating. Peter was a perfect dancer. Rosemary sighed again -quite involuntarily: it was a little sigh of regret for those golden -minutes that had gone by all too rapidly. Jasper, she reflected, would -never make a dancer, but he would make a kind, considerate, always -thoughtful husband. The kindest husband any woman could wish for. -</p> - -<p> -Her eyes now sought the dancing floor more insistently. She had just -become aware of Jasper's tall figure moving aimlessly amidst the crowd. -Dear, kind Jasper! He was looking for her, of course. Always when she -was not near him he was looking for her, if not physically and actually, -then with his thoughts, trying to find her, to understand her, to guess -at an unspoken wish. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear, kind Jasper," Rosemary sighed and closed her eyes, in order to -shut out that sudden glimpse she had just had of Jasper's anxious gaze -scanning the crowd—in search of her. She pulled the curtain an inch -or two further forward, pushed back her chair deeper into the shadow. -</p> - -<p> -Peter returned, carrying a bottle of champagne and a tumbler. -</p> - -<p> -"Will this do?" he asked, and busied himself with the cork. -</p> - -<p> -"Delicious," she replied, "but what about you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; you have brought only one glass." -</p> - -<p> -"The only one I could get. There's a regular fight up there for -crockery." -</p> - -<p> -She laughed. "It must be horrible up there," she exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"Dante's <i>Inferno</i>," he assented laconically. -</p> - -<p> -He filled the glass till the froth bubbled over and gave it to her to -drink, which she did with delight. -</p> - -<p> -"Lovely," she exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -He watched her as she screwed up her eyes and those tantalising little -lines appeared at the sides of her nose. -</p> - -<p> -"I hear you did splendidly at Lord's this afternoon, Peter," she said. -"There's a wonderful article about you in the <i>Evening Post.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -Then she held the glass out to be refilled. "Your turn next," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you have some more?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not just now, thank you." -</p> - -<p> -He put the bottle down on the floor, then put out his hand to take the -glass from her. As he did so his fingers closed over hers. She tried to -withdraw her hand, and in the brief struggle the glass fell between -them, and was smashed to smithereens. -</p> - -<p> -"Our one and only glass," Rosemary exclaimed. "Please, Peter," she went -on with a nervous little laugh, "will you release my hand?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," he replied, and increased the pressure on her struggling fingers. -"I have often been allowed to hold your hand before. Why not now?" -</p> - -<p> -She shrugged her shoulders and ceased to struggle. -</p> - -<p> -"Am I never to be allowed to hold your hand again?" he insisted. -</p> - -<p> -But her head now was turned away; she was apparently deeply interested -in the crowd below. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, Peter," she exclaimed lightly, "do look at Mrs. Opert in that -girlish 1840 costume. Did you ever see anything more ludicrous? Do look -at her huge feet in those wee sandals. There's Jimmy Ransome talking to -her now——" -</p> - -<p> -Again she tried to withdraw her hand and still he held her fast. She -turned to him with a frown. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter," she said, "if you are going to be foolish, I'll go." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you call being foolish?" he retorted. "Holding your hand? I -held you in my arms just now while we danced." -</p> - -<p> -"I call it being foolish, Peter," she retorted coolly. "Would you rather -I called it disloyal?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are too clever to do that, Rosemary," he rejoined, "disloyalty -being so essentially a feminine attribute." -</p> - -<p> -"Peter!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I know! I know!" he went on, quite slowly, and then suddenly -released her hand. "Presently you will be Jasper's wife, the wife of my -best friend. And if I happen to hold your hand just one instant longer -than convention permits I shall be called disloyal, a cad—any ugly -word that takes your fancy for the moment. So I must become less than a -friend—less than a distant cousin—I must not hold your -hand—the others may—I may not. They may come near you, look -into your eyes—see you smile—my God! Rosemary, am I never to -look into those glorious eyes of yours again?" -</p> - -<p> -For a moment it seemed as if she was going to give him a direct answer, -a soft flush rose to her cheeks, and there was a quick intake of her -breath as if words would tumble out that she was determined to suppress. -The struggle only lasted for a second. The next she had thrown bade her -head and burst into a peal of laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Peter," she exclaimed, and turned great, serious eyes upon him, "I -never knew before that you read Browning." -</p> - -<p> -Her laugh had half sobered him. But evidently he had not grasped her -meaning, for he frowned and murmured puzzled: "Browning?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, yes," she said gaily. "I forget exactly how it goes, but something -like this: 'I will hold your hand, just as long as all may. Or so very -little longer.'" -</p> - -<p> -He made no sign that her flippancy had hurt him; he sat down beside her, -his hands clasped between his knees. -</p> - -<p> -"Why should you hate me so, Rosemary?" he asked quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Hate you, my dear Peter?" she exclaimed. "Whatever put that quaint -notion into your head? The heat must have been too much for you this -afternoon. You never will wear a cap." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that I am beneath contempt, of course," he insisted, "but when -one despises a poor creature like me, it seems wanton cruelty just to -kick it." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not mean to hurt you, Peter," Rosemary rejoined more gently, "but -when you are trying to talk nonsense, I must in self-defence bring you -back to sanity." -</p> - -<p> -"Nonsense? Would to God I could talk nonsense, act nonsense, live -nonsense. Would to God my poor brain did refuse to take in the fact that -you have promised to become Jasper's wife, and that I, like a fool, have -lost you for ever." -</p> - -<p> -"Lost me, Peter?" she retorted, with just the faintest tremor of -bitterness in her voice. "I don't think you ever sought me very -seriously, did you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have loved you, Rosemary," Peter Blakeney said very slowly and very -deliberately, "from the first moment I set eyes on you." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as the girl shrugged her shoulders with an obvious attempt at -indifference, he said more insistently: "You knew it, Rosemary." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that you often said so, Peter," she replied coldly. -</p> - -<p> -"You knew it that night on the river when you lay in my arms just like a -lovely pixie, with your haunting eyes closed and your lips pressed to -mine. You knew it then, Rosemary," he insisted. -</p> - -<p> -But now she would no longer trust herself to speak. She had drawn -herself further back within the shadows. All that Peter could see of her -was the exquisite oval of her face like a cameo carved against the dark, -indefinite background. Her eyes he could not see, for they were veiled -by the delicate, blue-veined lids, but he had a glimpse of her breast -like mother-of-pearl, and of her small hand clinging tightly to the -protecting curtain. The rest of her, swathed in the rich folds of her -brocaded gown, was merged in the shadows, her auburn hair hidden by the -velvet cap. Just by looking at her face, and on that clinging hand, he -knew that everything within her was urging her to flee, was warning her -not to listen, not to allow her memory to recall that wonderful night in -June, on the river, when the honey-coloured moon threw shafts of silver -light on the tall grasses bending to the breeze, and a nightingale in -the big walnut tree sang a lullaby to its mate. Intuitively he knew that -she wished to flee, but that a certain something held her back, forced -her to listen—a certain something that was a spell, an enchantment, -or just the arms of her sister-pixies that clung around her and would not -let her go. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't let us talk about the past, Peter," she murmured at last -involuntarily, with a pathetic note of appeal in her voice. -</p> - -<p> -"I mean to talk about it, Rosemary," he retorted quietly, "just this -once more. After that I will fall out of your life. You can cast me out -and I will become one of the crowd. I won't even take your hand, I will -try not to see you, not even in my dreams. Though every inflection of -your voice makes my bones ache with longing, I shall try not to listen. -Just now I held you while we danced; you never once looked at me, but I -held you closer than any man ever held woman before. I held you with my -soul and heart and body—just now and for the last time. And though -you never looked at me once, Rosemary, you allowed me to hold you as I -did—not your body only, but your soul—and whilst we danced -and your sweet breath fanned my cheek you belonged to me as completely -as you did that night on the river, even though you have pledged your -word to Jasper. Though why you did that," he added, with a quaint change -of mood, "God alone knows." -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper wants me," she murmured. "He loves me. He sets me above his -ambition——" -</p> - -<p> -Peter Blakeney gave a harsh, mirthless laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear old Jasper," he said, "even he would laugh to hear you say that. -Ambition! There's no room for ambition in the scheme of Jasper's life. -How can a man be ambitious when all the beneficent genii of this world -presided at his birth, and showered gifts into his lap. It is we, poor -devils, who have ambitions—and see them unfulfilled." -</p> - -<p> -"Ambitions which you set above your love, above everything," Rosemary -broke in, and turned to look him straight in the eyes. "You talk of -love, Peter," she went on with sudden vehemence, while the sharp words -came tumbling out at last as if from the depths of her overburdened -heart. "What do you know of love? You are quite right, I did lay in your -arms that night, loving you with my whole being, my soul seeking yours -and finding it in that unforgettable kiss. My God! How I could have -loved you, Peter! But you? What were your thoughts of me the next day, -and the next day after that, whilst I waited in suspense which turned to -torture for a word from you that would recall that hour? What were your -thoughts? Where were you? I was waiting for you at the Lascelles as you -had promised you would come over from Oxford the very next day. You did -not come—not for days—weeks——" -</p> - -<p> -"Rosemary!" -</p> - -<p> -"Not for days—weeks——" she insisted, "and I waited for a -sign—a letter——" -</p> - -<p> -"Rosemary, at the time you understood!" -</p> - -<p> -"I only understood," she retorted with cold irony, "that you blamed -yourself for having engaged my young affections—that you had your -way to make in the world before you could think of asking a girl to -share your poverty—and so on—and so on—every time we -met—and in every letter you wrote—whilst I—— -</p> - -<p> -"Whilst you did not understand, Peter," she went on more calmly. "Whilst -you spoke of the future, of winning fame and fortune——" -</p> - -<p> -"For you, Rosemary!" he cried involuntarily, and buried his head in his -hands. "I was only thinking of you——" -</p> - -<p> -"You were not thinking of me, Peter, or you would have known that there -was no poverty or toil I would not gladly have shared with the man I -loved." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, poverty—toil—on an equal footing, Rosemary; but you were -rich, famous: already you had the world at your feet——" -</p> - -<p> -"And you did not care for me enough, Peter," she said with a note of -fatality in her voice, "to accept wealth, comfort, help in your career -from me——" -</p> - -<p> -"Peter Blakeney the cricketer," he declaimed with biting sarcasm; "don't -you know, he is the husband of Rosemary Fowkes now. What a glorious -career for a man, eh, to be the husband of a world-famous wife?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would only have been for a time," she protested. -</p> - -<p> -"A time during which youth would have flown away on the wings of life, -taking with it honour, manhood, dignity——" -</p> - -<p> -"And love?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -There was silence between them after that. The last word had been -spoken, the immutable word of Fate. Peter still sat with his head buried -in his hands, his elbows resting on his knees—a hunched-up figure -weighed down by the heavy hand of an inexorable past. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary looked down at the bent head, and there, in the shadow where no -one could see save the immortal recorder of sorrows and of tears, a look -of great tenderness and of pity crept into her haunting eyes. It was -only for a moment. With a great effort of will she shook herself free -from the spell that for a while had held possession of her soul. With a -deliberate gesture she drew back the curtain, so that her face and -figure became all at once flooded with light, she looked down upon the -kaleidoscopic picture below: the dusky orchestra had once more begun to -belch forth hideous sounds, and hellish screams; the puppets on the -dancing floor began one by one to resume their gyrations. Several among -the crowd, looking up, saw and recognised Rosemary: she smiled and -nodded to them, waved her fan in recognition. She was Rosemary Fowkes -once more, the most talked-of woman in England, the fiancée of Jasper -Tarkington, queen of her set, admired, adulated, the comet of the past -two seasons. -</p> - -<p> -"There's that tiresome George Orange," she said in her coldest, most -matter-of-fact tone. "He is making desperate and ludicrous signs. I -strongly suspect him of making straight for this box. Shall we try and -give him the slip?" -</p> - -<p> -Her quiet voice seemed to act like an anodyne on Peter's jangled nerves. -He straightened out his tall figure, quietly pulled the chairs away, to -enable her to pass. She, too, rose and prepared to go. It seemed -difficult not to say another word, or to look him once more straight in -the eyes; and yet to speak words now, after what had just passed between -them, seemed more difficult than anything. His hand was on the door -handle. The other side of the door people were moving up and down, -talking and laughing. Another second or two and she would pass out of his -sight—pass out of his life more effectually even than she had done -when she gave her word to Jasper Tarkington. Another second. But just -then she raised her eyes, and they met his. -</p> - -<p> -"Rosemary!" he said. -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head and smiled gently, ironically perhaps, indulgently -also as on a rebuked child. -</p> - -<p> -"I had better go now, Peter," she said quietly. "I feel sure George -Orange is on his way to drag me to his wife's box." -</p> - -<p> -Just for another second he did not move. - -"It is no use, Rosemary," he said, and in his turn smiled as on -something very dear, very precious, wholly unattainable. "It is no use, -my dear." -</p> - -<p> -"What is no use, Peter?" she murmured. -</p> - -<p> -"Thinking that all is over." -</p> - -<p> -"In six months' time, if I am alive," she rejoined coolly, "I shall be -Jasper Tarkington's wife." -</p> - -<p> -"I know it, dear. Jasper is my friend, and I would not harbour one -disloyal thought against him. But you being the wife of an enemy or of -my best friend is beside the point. I cannot shut you out of my life, -strive how I may. Never. While I am as I am, and you the exquisite -creature you are, so long as we are both alive, you will remain a part -of my life. Whenever I catch a glimpse of you, whenever I hear the sound -of your voice, my soul will thrill and long for you. Not with one -thought will I be disloyal to Jasper, for in my life you will be as an -exquisite spirit, an ideal, greater or less than woman. Just you. If you -are happy I shall know it. If you grieve, Heaven help the man or woman -who caused your tears. I have been a fool; yet I regret nothing. Sorrow -at your hands is sweeter than any happiness on earth." -</p> - -<p> -It was quite dark where they stood side by side in this moment of -supreme farewell. Each felt the inevitableness of it all—the -fatality. Pride on either side had built a barrier between them: honour -and loyalty would consolidate it in the future. Too late! Everything -was too late! -</p> - -<p> -Peter bent his knee to the ground and slowly raised the hem of her gown -to his lips. But Rosemary did not move: for that one instant her limbs -had become marble, and in her soul she prayed that her heart, too, might -turn to stone. -</p> - -<p> -Then Peter rose and opened the door, and she passed out into the world -again. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V</a></h4> - -<p> -Outside in the corridor Rosemary met Sir George Orange, who claimed her -then and there and dragged her willy-nilly to his wife's box. She never -looked back once to see what Peter was doing. He had become merged in -the crowd, and, anyway, this was the end. -</p> - -<p> -She found herself presently being talked to, flattered, adulated by the -distinguished Roumanian who turned the full battery of his mellow eyes -and his persuasive tongue upon her, bent on making a breach in the wall -of her prejudices and her thinly veiled enmity. -</p> - -<p> -She told no one, not even Jasper, the gist of her conversation with -Naniescu. He had put a proposal before her—a proposal which meant -work for Rosemary Fowkes—the Uno of the <i>International Review.</i> -He had proposed that she should go to Transylvania, study for herself the -conditions now prevailing in the territory occupied by Roumania, and -publish the result of her studies in the English and American Press. And -this was just the sort of work that Rosemary longed for, now, more than -at any other time of her life. Naniescu had played his cards well. He -had known how to flatter, insidiously, delicately, this popular writer -who had captured the public fancy and whose influence with pen and -personality was paramount with a vast section of review and newspaper -readers in England. What he had proposed could in no way hurt the most -delicate scruples of an over-sensitive conscience, and the proposal came -as a veritable Godsend to Rosemary at this moment when her whole soul -was in a turmoil of remorse, longing, and rebellion. That her love for -Peter Blakeney was not dead, she had known well enough all along, but -she had little dreamed until this hour how completely it still possessed -her, what power his glance, his touch, his nearness still had over her. -She had thought of her love as of a heap of smouldering ashes, and lo! -it proved itself to be a devastating fire that burned fiercely beneath. -</p> - -<p> -And Peter? -</p> - -<p> -Peter had set the future above the present; his pride above his love, -and she, wounded to the quick, had allowed ambition and pride to throw -her into Jasper Tarkington's arms. It was all done now. Irrevocably -done. But even at the moment when she most bitterly regretted the past, -she was resolved to keep her word loyally to Jasper. Sitting beside him -in the car that took her home from the Albert Hall ball, she allowed her -hand to rest contentedly in his. His arm was round her, and her cheek -rested against his shoulder. She did not speak for she was very tired, -but she listened, unshrinking, to the tender words which he whispered in -her ear. Dear, kind Jasper! He had thoughts only for her. From the -moment when she finally promised that she would be his wife, he had -loaded her with delicate attentions and exquisite gifts. Every word he -spoke was soothing and restful, so different to Peter's tempestuous -outbursts, his unrestrained, passionate eloquence that would leave her -limp and bruised, unable to understand his next mood, his sudden -indifference to everything save his own future pursuits. - -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI</a></h4> - -<p> -It was only a couple of days later that Rosemary broached to Jasper -Tarkington the subject that was uppermost in her mind. She had lunched -with him at the Ritz, and they walked together across St. James's Park -to her flat in Ashley Gardens. It was one of those rare days of June -which make of England one of the most desirable countries to be alive -in. The air was soft, with just that delicious feeling of moisture in it -that gives additional fragrance to the scent of the hawthorn: it -vibrated with the multitudinous sounds of bird-song, a twitter and a -singing and a whistling that thrilled the ear with their heavenly -melodies. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary Fowkes was very nearly as tall as her fiancé, and Jasper -Tarkington had a slight stoop which brought his eyes on a level with -hers. Scoffers were wont to say that Tarkington's stoop was nothing but -affectation; it certainly was a characteristic of him as is a monocle -with some men. His whole appearance was one of super-refinement: he -essentially gave the impression of a man who had seen so much of the -world that he had become surfeited with it, and thoroughly weary. The -weary expression was never absent from his eyes, which were very dark -and set rather close together, and though he was quite a young -man—still on the right side of thirty—there were a good many -lines round them—as well as round his expressive mouth and firm chin. -He had slender, beautifully shaped hands which, when he walked, he kept -behind his back holding a malacca cane that was adorned with a green -tassel. There is no doubt that there was a hint of affectation about Jasper -Tarkington's appearance, and manner, although in conversation he spoke -with true Anglo-Saxon directness. He was always dressed with scrupulous -correctness, and affected the Edwardian rather than the ultra-modern -modes. On the whole an arresting personality, whose kindly expression -attenuated the somewhat harsh Wellingtonian features, and the hard -outline of the narrow hatchet face. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary Fowkes, walking beside him in her irreproachably cut -tailor-made looked like a young Diana, radiant with youth and health. -Her skin, her eyes, her hair, the jaunty little hat she wore, the trim -shoes and neat silk stockings appeared strangely out of harmony with the -stooping figure of this disillusioned man of the world, with that vague -air of Buckingham Palace about his grey frock coat and silk hat. -</p> - -<p> -It was whilst walking through the park that Rosemary spoke to her -fiancé about Naniescu's proposal. Jasper listened attentively and -without interrupting her, until she herself paused, obviously waiting -for him to speak. Then he said: -</p> - -<p> -"And you have fallen in with General Naniescu's views?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes!" she replied, after an instant's hesitation. "The whole thing -appeals to me very much, and I am flattered by the confidence which the -Roumanian Government apparently has in my judgment. And of course," she -added, "I am not bound in any way." "Have you made any definite promises -to Naniescu?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not quite definite. I wanted first of all to consult your wishes." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, my dear!" Tarkington interjected, and for one instant a light of -youth and folly illumined his tired eyes. "Did I not promise you when -you made me so immeasurably happy that you should be absolutely free to -follow your career in whatever manner you choose? I am far too proud of -you to wish to hamper you in any way." -</p> - -<p> -"You have always been the dearest, kindest, most considerate creature on -God's earth," Rosemary rejoined, and in her eyes there came a look so -soft, so tender, so womanly that the man on whom it fell hardly dared to -meet it. "But you are not forgetting, are you, Jasper," she went on -earnestly, "that politically we don't always see eye to eye, you and I?" -</p> - -<p> -"So long as we see eye to eye in other things," he said, "what does it -matter? When I asked you, my dear, to be my wife, I knew that I would -not be mating with a silly doll. I am not fatuous enough to imagine that -you would change the trend of your beliefs in order to harmonise them -with mine." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary made no reply for the moment. Probably had they been alone she -would have put out her hand and given his a grateful and understanding -squeeze. As it was, the tears gathered in her eyes, for Jasper had -spoken so naturally and at the same time so nobly, that her heart was -more than ever touched by those splendid qualities in him, which his -actions and his words were constantly revealing to her. Perhaps she was -nearer to being in love with Jasper Tarkington at this hour than she had -been since first he asked her to be his wife; and when the glory of this -June afternoon, the twittering of birds, the scent of syringa and lilac -in the air brought back with nerve-racking insistence memories of -Peter's voice and Peter's touch, it was by mentally comparing the -character of the two men as she knew them, that she succeeded in casting -those memories away. -</p> - -<p> -"You are wonderfully good to me, Jasper," she sighed. -</p> - -<p> -"One cannot," he retorted simply, "be good to that which is most -precious in life: one can only worship and be grateful. But now tell me -something more about your plans. I feel a little bewildered, you know, -at the suddenness of them." -</p> - -<p> -"I have not yet made any definite plans," she replied, "and as I told -you, I have made no definite promise to General Naniescu. As a matter of -fact, I intend writing him a final acceptance or refusal to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"But you incline towards an acceptance?" -</p> - -<p> -"Frankly, yes!" -</p> - -<p> -"That would mean——?" he queried. -</p> - -<p> -"That I start for Budapest within the next few days." -</p> - -<p> -"What about your passport?" -</p> - -<p> -"General Naniescu assured me that he would see to that." -</p> - -<p> -"But you would not stay long in Budapest?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, only a couple of days. I shall go straight on to Transylvania. I -have been there before, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I did not know." -</p> - -<p> -"Peter's mother was a great friend of mine. You know I was a motherless -kid and she took me under her wing on many, many occasions. At one time -I travelled with her a good deal, and she took me several times with her -when she went to Transylvania to stay with her relations. I know them -all. They are dears." -</p> - -<p> -"And, of course, they are extraordinarily hospitable over there," -Tarkington admitted dryly. -</p> - -<p> -"Hospitable to a fault! Mrs. Blakeney's sister, who is Countess Imrey, -was kindness itself to me when I was in Transylvania two years ago for -the <i>International.</i> In any case, I should go to her first. The Imreys -have a beautiful château not far from Kolozsvár. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid we must call it Cluj now," Jasper interposed with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," Rosemary retorted hotly. "Aren't those little pin-pricks -damnable? Changing the name of a city that has been Hungarian for -centuries, and that has been the centre of some of the most epoch-making -movements in Hungarian history. It is mean and petty! You must admit, -Jasper," she insisted, "that it is mean and far more galling to a proud, -if conquered, nation than other, more tangible deeds of oppression. Why, -even the Germans when they took Alsace-Lorraine from France did not -re-name their towns!" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper Tarkington smiled at her vehemence. -</p> - -<p> -"Naniescu, I perceive," he said, "has set himself a difficult task." -</p> - -<p> -"He has," she admitted with a merry laugh. "But I left him no illusions -on the subject. He knows that at the present moment, and with all the -knowledge which—as I reminded him—I gathered at first hand two -years ago, I am just as severe a critic of his government as I was then. -He, on the other hand, declares that if I will divest myself of every -prejudice and go to Transylvania with an open mind, I shall understand -that Roumania is acting not only in her own, very obvious, interests, -but also in the interests of European peace. Well," Rosemary concluded -gaily, "I am going to accept General Naniescu's challenge, and I am -going to Transylvania with an open mind. I am to have a perfectly free -hand. Not a word in any article I choose to write is to be censored: he -declares that he will show me the truth, and nothing but the truth, and -that his government is only too ready to accord me every facility for -investigation and for placing the case before the British public." -</p> - -<p> -She paused to draw breath after this long peroration. As she walked so -freely along, the eyes of many a passer-by were cast with undisguised -admiration on the graceful girlish figure, the face aglow with youth and -animation, the sparkling eyes, the lips which Nature had so obviously -framed for a kiss. Jasper Tarkington said nothing for the moment; when -she had finished speaking he sighed, involuntarily perhaps, and his -tired eyes took on a still more wearied look. Was it that he felt he -could not altogether follow this exquisite woman along the path of -ambition which she trod with so youthful a step? Was he just a little -too old, a little to blasé, to share all that enthusiasm, that pride, -that burning desire to live every moment of the span of life, to fill -every hour with deeds and spoken thoughts which would abide when youth -had gone? -</p> - -<p> -Who shall say? Jasper Tarkington had never been communicative; his best -friends knew little of his life, and though he, too, in his day had used -his unquestioned mental gifts for political journalism, he had never -been the ardent propagandist that this beautiful apostle of lost causes -desired to be. His silence now acted as a slight damper on Rosemary's -enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry, dear," she said gently. "I always seem to forget that you -and I are in opposite camps over this one thing." -</p> - -<p> -"We shan't be that for long," he retorted lightly, "if Naniescu's hopes -are fulfilled." -</p> - -<p> -Strangely enough, just as he spoke he saw General Naniescu and M. de -Kervoisin, who were entering the park at Queen Anne's Gate as they -themselves were coming out of it. The three men raised their hats, and -Rosemary gave Naniescu and his friend a pleasant nod. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think," Tarkington said after a moment or two, "that our friend -Naniescu will be very fond of me after this." -</p> - -<p> -"Why? On the contrary, he should be grateful that you have not tried to -oppose him in any way." -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to oppose him in one way, though," Jasper resumed earnestly. -"I don't intend to interfere with his plans or yours, my dear, as I said -before; but there is one thing I am going to ask you, Rosemary." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, dear?" she asked impulsively. "I am so glad you are going -to ask me for something. All the giving has been on your side up to -now." -</p> - -<p> -"Not so fast, little one. You mayn't be ready to do what I want." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that likely?" she retorted. Then added with gentle earnestness: -"There is nothing in the world I wouldn't do for you, Jasper." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you marry me," he asked abruptly, "before you go away?" -</p> - -<p> -She did not reply immediately, for in truth she was very much taken -aback. Her engagement to Jasper Tarkington was very recent, and up to -now he had not once spoken of a definite date for the marriage. She felt -herself placed in an awkward position, for the fact that only a few -seconds ago she had assured him that there was nothing she would not do -for him. And now this request for an immediate marriage. She certainly -was not prepared for it. Everything in her urged her to refuse. The -memory of that hour in the box at the Albert Hall, her talk with Peter, -her realisation that Peter still held her heart, still ruled over her -thoughts, everything, in fact, except a sense of gratitude urged her to -refuse. And yet she could not—not after what she had said, not after -all that Jasper Tarkington had done for her. While all these thoughts -were whirling in her brain as she walked along, mechanically now, all -the spring gone out of her step, something of the joy of living gone out -of her spirits, she vaguely heard Jasper's quiet, gentle voice. -</p> - -<p> -"You mean so much to me, Rosemary," he was saying, "that life here in -England while you were God knows where, in tribulation, perhaps, perhaps -in danger, needing me too, perhaps without knowing it, would be -unendurable. I could not do it. I should follow you, anyway, and come as -near to you as I dared, yet without the right to look after you as -closely as I would wish. Well, my dear, you are far too womanly and kind -to inflict such torture upon me. For it would be torture, and I -would go under through it all. I don't know if you quite understand, -but——" -</p> - -<p> -There was an unusual vibration in his voice; it seemed as if, for once, -passion would get the better of his habitual restraint. Tarkington -always spoke slowly and directly, but for once words appeared to be -failing him. However, just then they turned into Victoria Street, and -the noise and bustle of traffic, his meticulous care of Rosemary while -they crossed the road, brought him back to the prosiness of life. Nor -did he speak again till they had reached the quietude of Ashley Gardens. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you come up?" Rosemary asked, pausing at the entrance of one of -the blocks of flats. -</p> - -<p> -He shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"I think I would like you to think it all over quietly," he said. "I -want you to remember that when I am asking you to hurry on our marriage, -I only do it because I want to have the right to look after you. I won't -interfere with you in any way whatever. I give you my word that as my -wife you will be every bit as free as you are now—more so, really, -because in that part of Europe a married woman can claim an independence -which convention absolutely denies to a girl. In Budapest you will meet -people of your own nationality, and of your own set. I could not bear -the thought that your loveliness would leave you a ready prey to gossip -or malice. There now," he added, with a self-deprecatory smile, "I have -said more than I meant to. My first excuse is that you are more than -life to me, and as you are so precious, I foresee dangers where perhaps -none exist. My second is that I am pleading for my own happiness—I -was almost going to say for my life. You are not like other women, -Rosemary; you are above the petty conventions of trousseaux and crowded -weddings. As soon as I have your answer I will get the special licence and -we'll be married in your parish church without fuss and ceremony. So think -it over, my dear, and let me have your answer as early to-morrow morning as -you can. Remember that I shall scarcely live until I have your answer." -</p> - -<p> -She made no reply; only put out her hand, which he took in his. There -was no glove on it, and for a moment it seemed that in spite of -passers-by, in spite of the conventional atmosphere of this part of -London, he would raise that little hand to his lips. His eyes rested on -her with a look of passionate desire; so intense was his gaze that -suddenly she felt almost afraid. Rosemary had never seen Jasper's eyes -look quite like that. As a rule they were so gentle, sometimes mildly -ironical, at others only weary. But now it almost seemed as if, in order -to bend her will to his, he was striving to exert some kind of power -that was outside himself, as if he had called to his aid forces that -would prove more invincible than those that were within him. The -spell—it seemed like a spell—only lasted a couple of seconds; -the next instant his look had turned to one of infinite tenderness. He -patted her hand and reiterated gently: -</p> - -<p> -"Think it over, my dear, when you are alone." -</p> - -<p> -Instantly she felt the tears gathering in her eyes. His gentleness, his -tender care of her, appealed to all that was truly womanly in Rosemary -Fowkes. Self-reliant, brilliantly clever, independent in thought and -actions as she was, she responded all the more readily to a man's desire -for the right to protect as well as to cherish. Her independence had -found its birth in loneliness. Fatherless, motherless in very early -life, she had soon enough shaken herself free from any trammels that -well-meaning relations desired to put over her actions. Her genius had -consolidated her independence, but it had never stifled those vague -longings for submission and self-abnegation which are the sublime -satisfaction of a true woman's soul. -</p> - -<p> -After Jasper Tarkington left her, and when she was alone in her flat, -Rosemary Fowkes turned to the one thing that had never failed her in the -great moments of her life. She turned to prayer. On her knees, and with -her heart filled with longing and a sorrow that she dared not face, she -prayed for help and for guidance. She had no one to turn to but Him who -said with infinite understanding and love: "Come unto me all ye that -travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you." -</p> - -<p> -In the midst of worldly joys, satisfied ambition, hopes for the future -and pride in the past, Rosemary Fowkes would to-night have felt -desperately lonely and lost in bewilderment before a divided -duty—duty to self, duty to Jasper—but for the comfort of -prayer, the thought of all that lay beyond this world of ours, a world -that is so sordid and petty even at its best. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII</a></h4> - -<p> -The next two or three weeks were like a dream for Rosemary Fowkes. She -left herself no time to think. The future beckoned to her with enticing -arms, holding prospects of activities, of work that would fill the mind -to the exclusion of memory. That evening, when she rose from her knees, -she rose with a resolve, and never for one moment after that did she -allow herself an instant of regret. She wrote a line to Jasper to tell -him that she would do as he wished; she was prepared to marry him as -soon as his own arrangements were completed. -</p> - -<p> -She also wrote to General Naniescu, agreeing to his proposal. She -reserved to herself complete freedom of action to send any articles or -reports she chose to English or foreign Press; all that she desired from -him was a confirmatory letter, promising that nothing she ever wrote -would pass through the censor's hands. This he at once sent her. Nothing -could be more fair, more straightforward. Rosemary's chivalrous mind -responded whole-heartedly to Naniescu's generosity, and the feeling that -it would probably be in her power to do real good, not only to -individuals but to peoples, acted as a soothing balm upon her bruised -heart. -</p> - -<p> -On the other hand, nothing could have exceeded Jasper's kindness and -consideration during the days immediately preceding her marriage. It -almost seemed as if his super-sensitive soul had received a faint -inkling of what was going on in Rosemary's mind. Nothing appeared too -onerous, no sacrifice too great where Rosemary's comfort and desires -were at stake, and at times—such are the contradictions of a woman's -nature—she felt almost impatient with him for his magnanimity, almost -obsessed by the unselfishness of his love. -</p> - -<p> -She only saw Peter Blakeney once before she and Jasper left for -Budapest, and that was on the day of her wedding. By one of those -involuntary blunders so peculiar to dim-sighted lovers, Jasper -Tarkington had asked Peter to be his best man. What it was that had -induced Peter to accept, Rosemary could not conjecture. His impulses had -always been strange and unaccountable, and this one was more -unaccountable than most. Perhaps he merely wished to pander to his own -mad desire to see her once again, perhaps it was just a semi-barbaric -instinct in him that pushed him to self-torture. Rosemary by now had -sufficient hold over herself to meet him calmly; not one line in her -beautiful face, not one look in her haunting eyes, betrayed what she -felt, after the wedding ceremony, when she accepted Peter's warmly -expressed good wishes for her happiness. Even her sensitive ear could -not detect the faintest note of irony or bitterness in his voice. After -that he said a few words about the projected journey to Hungary, about -which Jasper had spoken to him. She would be seeing his relatives -there—the Imreys, the Heves. Elsa Imrey was his mother's sister and -such a dear, and Philip used to be a jolly boy; but Rosemary knew them -all. She knew she would be made very welcome. Peter ended by speaking -with great earnestness about his little cousin Anna Heves; her father, -who had been Mrs. Blakeney's only brother, was dead, and Peter had an -idea that Anna was not altogether happy. -</p> - -<p> -"She has left home for some reason I can't quite fathom," he said, "and -lives now at Kolozsvár—I mean Cluj. She writes to me sometimes, and -when I know the exact day when you will be in Cluj I will write and tell -her to go and see you. I suppose you will put up at the 'Pannonia.'" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary nodded and Peter went on talking about little Anna, as he -called her. "I know you will be kind to her," he said. "You remember her -as a child, of course; in a way she is still a child, and so pretty and -enthusiastic. Give her a kiss from me when you see her." -</p> - -<p> -Which Rosemary, of course, promised to do. Then she gave him her hand, -without saying anything, for she could not trust herself to speak much, -and he kissed it just above the wrist, but more like a knight doing -homage to his lady than a lover who gazed, perhaps for the last time, on -the woman he worshipped. -</p> - -<p> -It was after the marriage ceremony that the dreamland in which Rosemary -had moved these past days became more intangible, more of a spirit-world -than before. The brief days in a dreary hotel at Folkestone would have -been unendurable but for her state of mind, which almost amounted to -semi-consciousness. Then came the weary journey to Budapest, the -sleepless night in the train, the awful meals in the crowded, stuffy -restaurant-car, the ceaseless rub-a-dub-dub, rub-a-dub-dub of the wheels -that bore her away farther—ever farther from that bygone world which -had become the might-have-been. And through it all, like a ray of light, -so persistent that it ceased to impress, was Jasper's constant, -unwearying care of her. He never seemed too tired to minister to her -wants, to arrange cushions for her, a footstool, to open or close the -window, the thousand and one little attentions, in fact, which most -travellers are too self-engrossed to render. -</p> - -<p> -And as Rosemary sat in her corner seat during those two wearisome days -gazing out of the window with eyes that failed to take in the beauties -of successive landscapes, her mind gradually became at peace with her -heart. Her youth, her buoyancy of spirits, reasserted themselves, made -her envisage life in all its brightest aspects, as it presented itself -before her with cornucopia filled to the brim with all that made it -worth the living. Work and a noble mate! What more could heart of woman -desire? And Rosemary closed her eyes, and in a quickly fleeting dream -sighed for the one thing that would have made her life a paradise, -and—still dreaming—she felt hot tears of regret trickle slowly -down her cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -She woke to feel Jasper's arms around her and his lips kissing away her -tears. -</p> - - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Budapest had been baking all day under a merciless sun in late July. But -at this hour the coolness of a clear moonlit evening sent everyone out -of doors. The Corso was crowded. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary Tarkington, on the terrace of the café, sat sipping delicious -coffee and lazily watching the throng. Now and then she would look -straight out before her, and her eyes would lose all sense of fatigue as -she gazed on the incomparable panorama before her: on the picturesque -old town of Buda, with, on the right, the ornate palace of the -Hapsburgs, and the cathedral of St. Matthias, and on the left, towering -above all, high upon the rock, the great, grim fortress that for over a -century had held the Turks at bay and saved Europe from the hordes of -Islam. One by one tiny lights began to wink and to blink in the houses -that rose tier upon tier on the slopes across the river, whilst down -below gaily illuminated boats flitted to and fro upon the turbulent -waters of the Danube, carrying a burden of merry-makers home from the -shady island of Ste. Marguerite close by. The whole scene before -Rosemary's eyes was one of unrivalled picturesqueness and animation. No -town in Europe presents quite so enthralling a spectacle, and one whose -charm is still further enhanced by the strains of those half-sad, -half-voluptuous Hungarian melodies which come to the ear from out the -shadows, or from the passing river boats, gentle as a caress, soothing -to nerves and senses by their sweet, melancholy rhythm, or exhilarating -when they break into their peculiarly harmonious syncopated cadences. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had specially elected to put up at the "Hungaria" rather than -in one of the more modern, recently built hotels. For her the "Hungaria" -was full of associations, of joyous times spent there when she was still -a schoolgirl in the days before the war. She had travelled in Hungary -and Transylvania under ideal conditions with Mrs. Blakeney, Peter's -mother, seeing the best this romantic country had to offer, welcomed -always with that large-hearted hospitality peculiar to these kindly -people. But memory recalled more strenuous times, too, those in the -early days of her journalistic career, when her heart was filled with -pity for the sufferings of a proud and ill-starred country, whose -fairest lands had been flung like rags by thoughtless politicians as a -sop to those who had been her associates in the war until the hour when -self-interest prompted them to throw in their lot with the other side. -</p> - -<p> -"You must be very tired, Lady Tarkington," a pleasant voice said close -to her elbow. -</p> - -<p> -"Not tired," Rosemary replied, "but rather dazed. The journey over from -England is slower and much more fatiguing than it used to be." -</p> - -<p> -Captain and Mrs. Payson were sitting beside her at the table. Recently -attached to the British Military Mission in Hungary, Captain Payson and -his young wife lived at the "Hungaria." It had been a great pleasure for -them to see Rosemary again, whom they had known for several years, and -after supper they had all foregathered on the terrace over their coffee. -Some few minutes before this Jasper had elected to take a turn on the -Corso, to stretch his legs and to smoke a cigar, but Rosemary felt too -lazy to move, and she liked to talk to the Paysons, who were genial and -intellectual and with whom she had a great deal in common in the way of -associations and friends. -</p> - -<p> -"The place has not altered much," Rosemary went on after a while. "The -people here are always gay and cheerful—in spite of—of -everything." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," little Mrs. Payson assented lightly. "Give them their music, -their delicious wines and perfect cooking, and nine out of ten -Hungarians won't care if they are ruled by King or Emperor, by foreign -tyrant or Bolshevist ruffian." -</p> - -<p> -"I always think Ruth is wrong when she says that," Captain Payson put in -earnestly. "The Hungarians are sportsmen, as we are, and they are taking -their punishment like sportsmen. They are not going to let the world see -how much they suffer. In that way they are very different from the -Germans." -</p> - -<p> -"They behaved with unparalleled folly," Rosemary remarked. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," the captain retorted, "and with commendable loyalty. The -Hungarians are a nation of gentlemen, just as the British. They, like -ourselves, are worshippers of tradition. They are royalists in their -hearts, almost to a man. Just think what their feelings must be whenever -they look across the river and gaze on that gorgeous palace over there, -whence their anointed King has been driven by petty foreign politicians -who scarcely knew where Hungary was situated on the map." -</p> - -<p> -Before Rosemary could pursue the subject she caught sight of her husband -forging his way towards her between the crowded tables of the terrace. -</p> - -<p> -"Naniescu is down below," Jasper said as soon as he had reached his -wife's side. "I told him you were up here and he said he wished to pay -his respects. He is talking to some friends for the moment, but he will -be here directly." -</p> - -<p> -"Then Ruth and I had better run," Captain Payson said lightly. "He and I -are always on the verge of a quarrel when we meet." -</p> - -<p> -He and his wife rose and took their leave; there was much talking and -laughing and promises to meet on the morrow. When they had gone Rosemary -said to her husband: "I would rather not have seen General Naniescu -to-night. I am very tired, and honestly I don't feel at my best." -</p> - -<p> -"I am so sorry," Jasper replied at once, full of contrition. "I did my -utmost to put him off. I knew, of course, that you must be very tired. -But he leaves Budapest early to-morrow morning. He is going to -Cluj——" -</p> - -<p> -"Cluj?" she asked, puzzled, then laughed lightly. "Oh, ah!" she went on. -"I always forget that dear old Kolozsvár is Cluj now." -</p> - -<p> -"Naniescu was anxious to see that our passports were quite in order, and -as this is important——" -</p> - -<p> -"You did quite right, dear," Rosemary rejoined gently, "as you always -do. I don't suppose the general will keep us long—though he is a -terrible talker," she added with a sigh. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later the handsome Roumanian came up to Rosemary's -table. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, dear lady," he said, and with habitual elaborate gesture he took -her hand and raised it to his lips. "What a joy it is to see that you -have fulfilled your promise and that you are here at last." -</p> - -<p> -He sat down at the table but declined Jasper's offer of a liqueur or cup -of coffee. -</p> - -<p> -"I am only here for a moment," he said, "overwhelmed with work and with -engagements. But I thought it would save you trouble if I just looked at -your passports and saw that they were entirely in order." -</p> - -<p> -"That is more than kind," Rosemary rejoined, whilst Jasper went -immediately to fetch the passports. For a moment or two Rosemary -remained silent and absorbed. An indefinable something had caused her to -shrink when she felt General Naniescu's full lips upon her -hand—something hostile and portentous. The next moment this feeling -had gone, and she was ready to chide herself for it. Naniescu was earnest, -persuasive, elaborately polite in manner and florid of speech just as he -had been in London, when first he put his proposal before her, and -certainly there was not a hint of anything sinister about him. -</p> - -<p> -"I am looking forward to my visit to Transylvania," Rosemary said quite -gaily. -</p> - -<p> -"You will find every official there ready to welcome you, dear lady," -Naniescu assured her. "You need only express a wish, to find it met in -every possible way. And if you should do me the honour of requiring my -personal services, needless to say that I should fly immediately to obey -your commands." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary shrugged her pretty shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"I do not anticipate any such call upon your valuable time," she said -coolly. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, one never knows. You, dear lady, are going amongst a strange -people," he added with a sigh. "People whose supposed grievances have -made bitter." -</p> - -<p> -"I have old friends in Transylvania, and will feel as safe with them as -I should in my flat in London." -</p> - -<p> -"You will stay the whole time with the Imreys?" the general asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you I was going to stay with them?" she retorted quickly. -</p> - -<p> -"You yourself, dear lady," he replied, unperturbed, "or did I merely -make a shrewd guess? Anyway, on that unforgettable evening at the Albert -Hall, when first I had the honour of an introduction to you, I saw you -dancing with Mr. Blakeney. The Countess Imrey is his mother's -sister—you told me that you had friends in Transylvania—the -inference surely was obvious. I trust I have not offended you," Naniescu -went on in his most mellifluous tone, "by the suggestion." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no," Rosemary replied, already vexed with herself for having -unwittingly provoked the Roumanian into one of those elaborate speeches -which irritated her and gave her a vague feeling that malicious irony -lurked behind so much blandness. "Mrs. Blakeney was a dear friend of -mine; she and I travelled a great deal together, and I stayed more than -once with the Imreys, not only at Kis-Imre, but in their beautiful house -at Kolozsvár." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, then," the general rejoined, "if you know the house at Cluj, you -would—in the scarce probable likelihood of your wishing to command my -services—know where to find me?" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am living in the Imreys' house now." -</p> - -<p> -"But—how can that be?" Rosemary retorted, somewhat puzzled, for she -knew that in this part of Europe the idea of letting their house to -strangers would never occur to proud, wealthy people like the Imreys, as -it does so readily to those of their caste in England. But when General -Naniescu, with an indifferent shrug, replied dryly: "Oh, the house was -a great deal too big for the occupation of a small family. On public -grounds we cannot allow the many to suffer for the whims of a few," -Rosemary frowned, no longed puzzled. She felt rather than saw that the -Roumanian's dark, mellow eyes rested on her for an instant with a look -of quiet mockery. But it was a mere flash. The next moment he was as -suave as before, and said with that perfect deference which he had -always affected when speaking to her about her work: -</p> - -<p> -"That question, dear lady, will be one which I earnestly hope you will -approach with an open mind, and on which your brilliant intellect will, -I trust, shed the light of truth." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper's return with the passports brought on a fresh train of thought. -Naniescu pronounced them to be in perfect order. He added a special note -and signature to the visa which had been obtained from the Roumanian -Consul in London. Rosemary was feeling very tired and longed to go to -bed, but Naniescu stayed on, talking desultorily to Jasper about -politics and social conditions, all matters which Rosemary did not feel -sufficiently alert to discuss. Her thoughts wandered away and she -scarcely heard what the two men were saying; she was, in fact, just -meditating on a polite form of abrupt leave-taking when something that -Naniescu said arrested her attention. -</p> - -<p> -"My Government," the Roumanian was saying, obviously in reply to a -remark from Jasper, "is quite alive to the evil wrought by those -pernicious articles which appear from time to time in English and -American newspapers. . . ." -</p> - -<p> -"Then why doesn't your censor stop them?" Jasper queried bluntly. -</p> - -<p> -"He would, my dear Lord Tarkington," Naniescu rejoined blandly, "he -would. But those devils are so astute. How they manage to smuggle their -articles through the post I for one cannot for the life of me make out." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah," Rosemary put in with a smile, as quietly ironical as Naniescu's -had been a while ago, "you still carry on a strict censorship, then? You -do not believe in liberty of speech or of the press." -</p> - -<p> -"We do, dear lady, indeed we do. But unfortunately the English and -American press are so easily captured by sentimentality. Put a case -before them of supposed wrong, however preposterous and palpably false, -and they will revel in it, print it with capital head-lines, and so -capture the imagination of their sentimental, unthinking readers that -these will no longer listen to the voice of reason or of truth. We are -too proud—or perhaps not clever enough—to combat such barefaced -propaganda; a strict censorship may be a crude weapon, but it is the -only one at our command. What would you? A man who is attacked defends -himself as best he can." -</p> - -<p> -"But in this case your weapon is failing you?" Jasper queried in his -quiet, incisive way. "Whoever sends those articles to England and -America is apparently too clever for you." -</p> - -<p> -"For the moment—yes," Naniescu admitted. "But," he went on more -lightly and at last rose to take his leave, "I fear my irresponsible -prattle is keeping Lady Tarkington away from the rest she so much needs. -Dear lady, pray accept my humble homage, and my earnest wish that your -stay in our poor country will afford you all the delight that you -anticipate." -</p> - -<p> -He raised Rosemary's hand to his lips with the same show of gallantry -that marked his every action in her presence. Just before he finally -released it he looked up with deep earnestness into her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"Let me once more assure you, dear lady, that as far as you are -concerned every word you write will be transmitted in its entirety and -with all possible speed to its destination. All that you need do is to -send your articles and letters in a sealed packet under cover to me. I -give you my word of honour that you will be satisfied." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX</a></h4> - -<p> -Until the moment of her arrival in Cluj, Rosemary had felt nothing but -exhilaration whenever she thought of her work and of the good which she -proposed to do, thanks to the facilities so magnanimously accorded her -by Naniescu. Just for one moment at Budapest, when she first met the -handsome Roumanian, she had been conscious of a slight feeling of -mistrust, an instinctive dislike of the man's fluent speech and affected -gestures. But on reflection she had persuaded herself that this sudden -aversion was bound to arise at first contact with those elaborate -manners which pass for gallantry in most of the Latin and Slav countries -of Europe. The contrast between Naniescu's exaggerated politeness and -Jasper's unobtrusive consideration had naturally reacted on her -sensibilities to the detriment of the Roumanian. -</p> - -<p> -Anyway, the sensation soon wore off. She had a very happy time in -Budapest. The Paysons were charming; she met several friends, both -English and Hungarian, who made her very welcome, and Jasper was, as -usual, thoughtfulness itself. The journey across Hungary filled her with -that gentle melancholy which those limitless expanses of earth and sky -engender in the mind of imaginative people. It was close on harvesting -time, and to right and left of the permanent way the great fields of -corn stretched out like a sea of ruddy gold to the purple line of the -horizon far away. Rosemary loved to gaze on these measureless stretches -of country, whereon for mile upon mile nothing showed above the line of -waving corn save, at rare intervals, the thatched roof of a tiny -homestead peeping from behind a clump of grey-green willow, or an -isolated well, with one gaunt arm stretched skywards, around which a -herd of young horses had halted for the midday rest. Her eyes followed -with loving intensity the winding ribbon of the dust-laden road, -bordered by tall, slender poplars or twisted acacia trees, and at -intervals the great patches of vivid green amidst the gold, where row -upon row of water-melons turned their huge, shimmering carcases to the -warmth of the sun. -</p> - -<p> -A faint perfume of heliotrope and mignonette hung in the air, and just -for one moment Rosemary's dreamy gaze caught a glimpse of an exquisite -mirage on the far distant horizon—a vision of towers and minarets and -of a cool, shady stream painted with fairy brush upon the moisture-laden -atmosphere. It was a phantom picture that vanished almost as soon as it -appeared, but upon the watcher's super-sensitive mind it left in its -swift transit an impression as of a magic land, a paradise the gates of -which had for one brief second been opened by celestial hands, so that -she might glimpse the garden of Eden beyond—the world of happiness -and of love which for her must ever remain elusive and unattainable. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -The arrival at Cluj was dreary and disappointing. From Budapest she -herself had telegraphed to the hotel she knew so well, and had sent a -letter at the same time asking the proprietor to have a hot supper ready -for herself and Lord Tarkington. The hotel appeared unfamiliar when she -stepped out of the little cab which had brought them from the station. -The smiling hall-porter who used to greet Mrs. Blakeney with respectful -familiarity on arrival was no longer there; an out-at-elbows, -ill-dressed, unwashed porter took charge of their luggage. The -proprietor, he said, was not in the house, and he himself was in charge -of the place. He bluntly explained in broken German that under the new -management no meals except early morning coffee were served in the -hotel, the restaurant being now under separate ownership. The lady and -gentleman could get something to eat there, no doubt. -</p> - -<p> -It was all very cheerless, and to Rosemary very strange. The gay little -town of Kolozsvár, usually so full of animation at this late evening -hour, seemed already asleep. The streets were ill-lighted; there was an -air of desolation and melancholy about the place. The hotel itself had -become stuffy, dirty and ill-lighted. The furniture looked dilapidated, -the bed-linen was coarse and the rooms none too clean. Rosemary spent a -wretched night; but she was a hardened traveller and had before now put -up with worse inconveniences than these. There was always the comforting -thought that it was the only night that she would spend in Cluj. The -next day Count Imrey's carriage and horses (he was not allowed to have a -motor-car) would be taking her and Jasper to Kis-Imre, where a big -welcome and every conceivable luxury awaited them both. -</p> - -<p> -All that she was waiting for now was to see Anna Heves; little Anna, as -Peter called her, the pretty, enthusiastic child to whom Rosemary had -promised to give a kiss for Peter's sake. And in the morning, just as -Rosemary had finished putting up her hair and had slipped into a -dressing-gown preparatory to going in to breakfast with Jasper, there -was a knock at the door and Anna came in. Sweet, enthusiastic Anna, who -gazed at her shyly with Peter's eyes and then smiled with Peter's smile. -She would have been pretty, too, but for the unhealthy pallor of her -cheeks and the dark rings that circled her eyes—Peter's eyes! -</p> - -<p> -"I am so ashamed, Miss Fowkes," Anna murmured shyly; but at once -Rosemary broke in, stretching out her arms: -</p> - -<p> -"Aren't you going to kiss me, Anna?" -</p> - -<p> -With a pathetic little cry the girl ran into Rosemary's arms, and, her -head buried on her friend's shoulder, she burst into tears. Rosemary let -her cry for a moment or two; her own eyes were anything but dry, for -with a quick glance she had taken in the girl's changed appearance, also -the shabby clothing, the worn boots, the unmistakable air of grinding -poverty, and, worse still, of insufficient food. Poor little Anna! If -Peter saw her now! -</p> - -<p> -After a few moments the girl raised her head and dabbed away her tears. -Rosemary led her to the sofa, made her sit down beside her, and took -both her thin little hands in hers. -</p> - -<p> -"To begin with you must not call me Miss Fowkes, Anna," she said. "I was -always Rosemary, wasn't I?" -</p> - -<p> -Anna nodded, and a wan little smile struggled round her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"And, you know, I am married now," Rosemary went on. "Hadn't you heard?" -</p> - -<p> -Anna shook her head. She could not yet trust herself to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course," Rosemary said gaily, "how stupid of me. Jasper and I were -married very quietly in London, and we are not people of such importance -that your Hungarian papers would chronicle the fact. My husband is Lord -Tarkington, the best and kindest of men. I'll tell him presently that -you are here. He would love to see you." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, Rosemary dear!" Anna broke in quickly, "don't tell Lord -Tarkington that I am here. I—I never see strangers now. You see, I -have no decent clothes, and——" -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper would look at your sweet little face, Anna, and never notice -your clothes. And you are not going to call my husband a stranger, are -you?" -</p> - -<p> -Then, as Anna was silent, and with head bent appeared to be staring into -nothingness, Rosemary continued lightly, even though her heart felt -heavy at sight of the havoc wrought in this young thing by miseries at -which she could still only guess. -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, little 'un," she said, "I don't yet know what you are doing -in Kolozsvár—or Cluj—tiresome name, I never can remember it! -Your cousin, Peter Blakeney, told me I should find you here, and that he -had written to tell you I should be at the 'Pannonia' to-day; but that is -all I know. Where is your mother?" -</p> - -<p> -"She is still in Ujlak, of course," the girl replied more calmly, -"looking after the place as best she can. But, of course, it is very -hard and very, very difficult. They have taken away so much of the land, -some of the best pasture, over twelve hundred acres; mother has only -about two hundred left. There is not enough for the horses' feed. Mother -had to have ten brood mares destroyed this spring. It was no use trying -to keep them, and she could not bring herself to sell them. Imagine -mother having her mares killed! It would have broken her heart, only she -has had so much to endure lately she——" -</p> - -<p> -Once more the girl broke down; a lump in her throat choked the bitter -words. Rosemary frowned. -</p> - -<p> -"But, then, why are you not at home with your mother, Anna?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I earn a little money here, and Marie is at home. She is younger than -I, you remember, and she was always mother's favourite." -</p> - -<p> -"How do you mean you earn money, Anna? At what?" -</p> - -<p> -Anna hesitated for a moment. She looked up and saw Rosemary's eyes fixed -questioningly upon her, and those eyes were so full of kindness that the -girl's reticence, even her bitterness, melted under the warmth of that -gaze. -</p> - -<p> -"I help in the shop of Balog, the grocer," she replied simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Balog, the grocer? You?" -</p> - -<p> -The cry of surprise, almost of horror, had come involuntarily to -Rosemary's lips. She thought of Mrs. Blakeney, the exquisite <i>grande -dame</i> who, after her marriage to Peter's father, the eminent scientist, -had won her position in English society by her charm, her tact and that -air of high breeding which is becoming so obsolete these days. She -thought of Peter himself, who had inherited so much of his mother's -charm and all her high-souled notions of noblesse oblige, of what was -due to birth and to descent. Did Peter know what little Anna was -suffering under this new régime brought about by a treaty of peace that -was to bring the millennium to all the peoples of Europe? With a sudden -impulse Rosemary put her arms once more round the shrinking little -figure. -</p> - -<p> -"Anna," she said earnestly, "I think you are absolutely splendid! I -admire your pluck more than I can say. But surely, surely you could find -more congenial work than selling groceries!" -</p> - -<p> -She paused a moment, her active brain at once turning to projects that -had little Anna's welfare for their aim. Little Anna could not go on -selling groceries in an obscure Roumanian town. It was unthinkable! -Surely Peter did not know. And how could Rosemary face him with the news -that she had found little Anna selling groceries at Cluj? -</p> - -<p> -Something must be done, and quickly, to alter such an awful state of -things. While she remained silent, thinking, and Anna, equally silent, -fidgeted with long, thin fingers the tassel of her friend's -dressing-gown, Rosemary became conscious that Jasper was watching her -from the doorway of the next room. How long he had been standing there -she did not know. She looked at him over Anna's bent head, and, as -usual, she read in his expressive face a divination of her thoughts. It -almost seemed as if, with a slight nod of his head, he was actually -approving of what she had not yet put into words. Then he stepped back -into the other room and quietly closed the door. -</p> - -<p> -"Listen, little one," Rosemary said eagerly. "I am here at the -invitation of the Roumanian Government; that is to say, General -Naniescu, who, I understand, is military governor of Transylvania, has -asked me to come over here and study the conditions, both social and -political. I shall be writing several articles for English and American -papers, and I simply must have a secretary for my ordinary -correspondence, and——" -</p> - -<p> -Anna shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know how to type," she said rather curtly, "and I can't do -shorthand." -</p> - -<p> -"Neither of which is necessary," Rosemary retorted. -</p> - -<p> -Anna looked her straight in the eyes. "You don't imagine," she said -quietly, "that if your articles revealed even a particle of the truth -they would ever be allowed to pass the censor, and if they concealed, -the truth you would not expect my father's daughter to associate herself -with them." -</p> - -<p> -"That's a brave patriotic speech, Anna," Rosemary rejoined with a -triumphant little laugh, "but you need not be the least afraid. My -articles will contain the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the -truth, and the censor will have no power over them. I give you my word." -</p> - -<p> -But Anna was unconvinced. -</p> - -<p> -"Rosemary dear," she said earnestly, "don't think me ungrateful or -obstinate. Just imagine what it would mean to me to give up this awful -grinding routine that wearies me at times to such an extent that I go -into the cathedral and beg and pray to God that I might soon die and -escape from it all. But you know, dear, when one's country is as -unfortunate as ours has become, one must do one's utmost to help and -serve her, mustn't one?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, of course," Rosemary assented, puzzled by the girl's strange -earnestness, the glow of ardent patriotism that all at once emanated -from that drooping, slender figure; "but I don't quite see how you are -serving your country by selling groceries in Balog's shop." -</p> - -<p> -"No! no! not by that," Anna went on eagerly. "Oh, I know that I can -trust you, Rosemary, and you can't imagine what a relief it is to me to -have someone to talk to. I have not spoken like this to a soul for -nearly two years. And sometimes I feel as if I must choke. But one dare -not talk to anyone these days, for government spies are everywhere. You -never know who will betray you; the concierge of your house, the woman -who washes the stairs, or the beggar to whom you give alms. Oh! I could -tell you things——However, all of us who are suffering -unspeakably under our new tyrants are determined that the outside world -shall hear the truth, but there is such a strict censorship that one dare -not send anything through the post except what is absolutely banal and -meaningless." -</p> - -<p> -The girl paused a moment, her eyes wandered searchingly around the room, -rested for an instant first on one door, then on another, as if in fear -that those spies whom she so dreaded were lurking behind them, then, -satisfied that she was alone with her English friend, whom she knew she -could trust, she said abruptly: -</p> - -<p> -"You remember my cousin, Philip Imrey?" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course." -</p> - -<p> -"He always had a great talent for writing. When he was quite a boy he -used to write poetry and little stories. He is only nineteen now: next -year he will have to do his military service in the Roumanian army, and -that is a perfect hell for every Hungarian! Just think, Rosemary, if an -Englishman had to serve in the German army! Isn't it unthinkable? But -still, that cannot be helped! We are the vanquished race, and we have to -pay the price. But we are determined that the nations of the West shall -know the truth! So Philip and I, between us, thought of a plan. We -thought of it for two years, and it took some time to organize. At last -I obtained what I wanted, mother's consent that I should come to Cluj to -earn my living, and a post in Balog's grocery shop. Balog sends -Transylvanian goods regularly to Budapest; mustard, cheese, vegetable -seeds; I have to pack them. Now do you understand?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary nodded. "Yes, I think I do! Philip writes those articles which -appeared in the <i>Evening Post</i> and caused such an outburst of sympathy -for the Hungarians of Transylvania throughout Great Britain. And -you——?" she added, and her eyes full of tenderness and -compassion rested with undisguised admiration on the shrinking little -figure of Anna Heves. -</p> - -<p> -"He rides over from Kis-Imre," the girl continued simply, "and brings me -the articles which he has written, and I consign them inside the grocery -parcels to the firm at Budapest, who, of course, are in entire sympathy -with us, and post them on to England. Oh! it is splendid, Rosemary -dear," the girl continued with glowing eyes, "to be able to do all this. -Now you see, don't you? that I could not possibly give it all up." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Anna, I do see that. But you are running terrible risks, little -'un." -</p> - -<p> -"I know I am, and so does Philip; but you don't know how happy it makes -us. The days when an article of his goes to Budapest is a fête day for -us both. It is usually a Saturday when the parcels are sent off, and," -the girl went on with pathetic naïveté, "on the Sunday morning when I -go to Mass, I no longer bother God with my troubles and with senseless -prayers, I just thank Him, and thank Him for letting me do something for -Hungary." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary said nothing for the moment. Indeed, what could she say? To try -and dissuade this young fanatic from all her high-souled foolishness was -an attempt foredoomed to failure. Rosemary had far too keen a knowledge -of human nature, and held far too high an opinion of patriotism as a -virtue not to understand the intense happiness that this constant -sacrifice brought into Anna's dreary life. To have suggested that the -girl give up this joy—these constant risks—would have been -futile. -</p> - -<p> -"You are a splendid, brave thing, Anna!" was all that she could say, and -her voice sounded quite harsh as she spoke, because she was fighting -against emotion. -</p> - -<p> -She gazed with real admiration on the poor wizened little figure of this -girl, in whose soul burned a flame of ardent patriotism. Anna had -counted the cost of what she was doing; with her eyes open, envisaging -every risk, she was accomplishing quietly and unostentatiously what she -believed to be her duty to her poor native land. A heroine of the peace, -she risked more than the thousands of heroines of the war had -done—save perhaps one. Like Edith Cavell, she faced and risked -death for an ideal, happy in her quiet way for the privilege of doing -it, enduring a life of grinding routine, of dreary monotony more trying -for the young to bear than active sorrow or physical pain. -</p> - -<p> -The two girls had not spoken for some time, they sat side by side on the -sofa with hands clasped, and eyes fixed upon one another. Anna, with -nerves weakened by privations, was on the verge of giving way to an -emotion which would have eased the tension that for the past months had -been threatening to break down her spirit. Rosemary, on the other hand, -felt for the moment almost ashamed of her robust health, her virile brain, -the contentment—if not happiness—in life which was her portion -since she had married Jasper, and her compassionate heart longed for the -power to comfort and to help this gentle, high-souled girl who looked at -her with Peter Blakeney's eyes, and whose lips when she smiled were so -like his. Anna was running her head against a stone wall. Rosemary felt -that inevitably she would sooner or later be crushed in the process. Her -thoughts flew to her husband, the man on whom she knew that she could -always rely when knotty problems of life threatened to be beyond her -powers to unravel. Jasper would be of good counsel: selfless, generous -to a fault, his unerring tact would perhaps find a way into the -innermost recesses of Anna's heart, and find the means to save the child -from further fanatical folly without wounding the susceptibilities of -her high-mettled patriotism. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -"And now, Anna," Rosemary said after that moment of silence which had -sealed a bond of sympathy between herself and Peter's kinswoman, "you -are going to have a cup of hot coffee with me and Jasper. No! No!" she -went on determinedly, and took hold of the girl's wrists. "I shall not -let you go till you have seen Jasper. He will just love you, and you and -he will get on splendidly together. You two fine creatures are made to -understand one another." -</p> - -<p> -She dragged the obviously unwilling Anna with her into the next room. -Jasper was there, waiting. His hand was on the bell-pull at the moment, -and his kind, grave eyes at once sought those of Anna, who, reluctantly, -allowed herself to be drawn toward him. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary effected a quick introduction. In a moment Jasper's kind words -had gained the victory over Anna's shyness; less than two minutes later -they were seated side by side at the table, while Rosemary ordered -coffee of the slatternly chambermaid who had come in answer to the bell. -</p> - -<p> -It was wonderful how splendidly Jasper and Anna got on; he seemed in a -few seconds to have caught the knack of gaining the girl's confidence. -She became animated, quite pretty, with shining eyes and full red lips -that had lost for the moment their pathetic droop. She did not refer to -her cousin, Philip Imrey, or to the dangerous game he and she were -playing together, but she talked of her mother and of Ujlak, of the -horses and the farm and the difficulties that beset the Hungarian -landowners at every turn. -</p> - -<p> -"I dare say that to a great extent it is our fault," she was even -willing to admit in response to gentle criticism from Jasper. "We did -not make ourselves beloved by the peasantry; they spoke a different -language from ours, theirs was a different religion, and they were the -alien race. We did little, if anything, for them. But tell me," she went -on, and fixed her shrewd glance upon Jasper, "do you think that you -landowners over in England, who do so much for your tenantry and your -villagers, cricket-clubs, foot-ball, concerts—oh! I don't know what -else, but things that you pay for and that they enjoy—well! do you -think that in their hearts they love you any better than the Roumanian -peasantry loved us Hungarians? And do you really believe that if you -were in trouble, as we are now, and they were given a certain power over -you, they would use it to show their gratitude for past generosity? Do -you really believe that, Lord Tarkington?" she insisted. -</p> - -<p> -And Jasper, with a smile at her vehemence, could only shrug his -shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -He was evidently very much taken with little Anna. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X</a></h4> - -<p> -It was a week later and Jasper and Rosemary had been spending that time -at Kis-Imre. No one who has not travelled in that part of the world can -form a conception of the large-hearted hospitality that welcomes the -stranger in a Hungarian château. -</p> - -<p> -And Rosemary at once took the Imreys to her heart. She had known them -before, of course, in the days before the war, when they dispensed that -same wonderful hospitality, light-heartedly, gaily, as a matter of -course. A lavish table, horses to ride, dancing, music, luxury, it was -all there, not just for the asking, but poured forth like water by -ungrudging hands. They had plenty and they gave in plenty. One loved -them as one loved children and puppies and youth and dance-music, -because their gaiety thrilled the heart and painted the picture of life -in radiant colours. -</p> - -<p> -But most of that had become a thing of the past. So much of it had gone, -been irretrievably lost in the cataclysm of war and alien occupation. -The will to give was still there, the love of the stranger, the -boundless hospitality, but giving now meant a sacrifice somewhere, -giving up something to give to others. All the sweeter, all the more -lovable for being tinged with sadness. To Rosemary, Elza Imrey now was a -woman; before that she had been just like a child, naively proud of her -home, her table, her horses, without a hint of ostentation in her -display of the rich gifts the good God had showered upon her. Now Elza's -large, prominent blue eyes had become a little dim with constant -weeping, and her mouth, when at rest, drooped slightly at the Corners. -Elza was still a very handsome woman, with her hair of a ruddy gold like -the cornfields of her native land, but all around the temples there was -now a sprinkling of silver, a sprinkling that softened the face, as -powder does when applied lightly to the hair. -</p> - -<p> -Though in outward appearance she was very unlike her sister, yet she -constantly reminded Rosemary of Mrs. Blakeney; it was a question of -movements, a gesture here and there, and also the tone of the voice. -Elza, too, like her sister, had a magnificent figure, and the perfect -hands, arms and wrists peculiar to her race. She had suffered, of -course: badly during the war, terribly since the peace. At all times a -<i>maîtresse femme</i>, it was she who had carried on the administration of -her husband's estates, she who used to interview bailiffs, lawyers, -tenants. She had always been looked up to by the local officials and by -the surrounding peasantry as the head of the house. Maurus Imrey had -always been neurasthenic, and the privations of the war, and the -humiliations consequent on the alien occupation of his country, had -exasperated his nervous system and further embittered his quarrelsome -disposition. In the happy days before the war his contribution to the -management of his estates consisted in grumbling daily at his chef and -swearing unremittingly at those of his servants who came to him for -orders in anything pertaining to the house. Malicious tongues were wont -to say that Maurus Imrey had gipsy blood in his veins; more likely it -was an Armenian strain. Certain it is that his face and hands were -swarthy, his nose hooked and his eyes very dark and piercing; -characteristics which he had transmitted in a softened degree to his son -Philip. But he was a man of culture for all that. He had read a great -deal and thought over what he had read. Jasper Tarkington found him at -the outset an interesting, if not very genial, companion. -</p> - -<p> -Then there was Philip, worshipped by his mother, adored by his father, -handsome, a splendid dancer, an accomplished musician. Philip was very -attractive; if there was gipsy blood in his veins it had given him -nothing but physical beauty and the highly developed musical talent of -that race. He had dark, curly hair, and large mellow eyes, fringed with -long lashes that would have been a gift of the gods to a girl. Jasper at -first sight pronounced him effeminate, but Rosemary—knowing what she -did about him—would not allow this for a moment. How could a boy be -called effeminate who staked his life time and again, every time he rode -into Cluj with those newspaper articles of his in his pocket? -</p> - -<p> -But this, of course, Jasper did not know. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI</a></h4> - -<p> -Elza Imrey talked very freely with Rosemary, and often referred to her -husband having taken the oath of allegiance to the King of Roumania. It -was all because of Philip. "What I am working for," she said, with the -light almost of a fanatic in her eyes, "and what I shall work for so -long as I have breath left in my body, is to save Philip's inheritance. -The Roumanians are lying in wait for us, watching for an excuse to expel -us from Transylvania. Many have had to go. Nothing would induce them to -be false to the oath that they had sworn to the anointed King of -Hungary. So they had to go. Sometimes at twenty-four hours' notice, bag -and baggage, turned out of the home their forebears had owned for -hundreds of years. But I would not do that. I had to think of Philip. -The Roumanian occupation is now an accomplished fact, and we are too -helpless, too friendless, not to accept it. But we must be very careful. -One false step and we are done. Imagine how I tremble every time Maurus -lets himself go. You know how unguarded he always is in his speech." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt an actual physical pain in her heart when she thought of -this devoted mother's brave struggle to guard her son's inheritance, and -how little she guessed that Philip himself was jeopardizing his future -and risking his life in a cause that she was proclaiming hopeless. Those -rides to Cluj! The meeting with Anna Heves! The dispatch of those -newspaper articles of his! And Government spies lurking everywhere! -</p> - -<p> -But during meals all unpleasant subjects were vetoed. Rosemary would -have none of them, and her wishes, as the honoured guest, were law in -this hospitable house. These good people, with their mercurial -temperament, had a wonderful gift of casting aside trouble and giving -themselves over to the pleasures of the moment. And so at dinner in the -evenings the gipsy band not yet driven forth out of the neighbouring -village would discourse sweet music, the tender, sad Hungarian refrains -that appeal to the stranger almost as much as they do to the native. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary, who was an exquisite dancer, longed to tread the measure of -the csàrdàs, the Hungarian national dance, which begins with a dreamy, -languorous slow movement, and then suddenly breaks into a wild, mad -whirl, wherein the dancers' eyes glow with excitement, their cheeks burn -like fire, and their breath comes and goes through quivering, parted -lips. Surely the merriest, maddest, most intoxicating dance devised by a -passionate people—probably for the letting off of some inward steam -that must find vent in such rapturous movements from time to time, or it -would consume them with its glow. -</p> - -<p> -"I think Lady Tarkington is quite splendid," Maurus Imrey said to -Jasper, in the intervals of beating time with hand and foot to the -ever-quickening measure of the dance. "Hey, you confounded gipsy!" he -cried, shouting to the swarthy, perspiring leader of the band. "Quicker! -Quicker! Can't you hear me speak? Do you think you are playing a funeral -march?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think," Jasper put in, with his quiet smile, "if the musicians put on -any more speed, Rosemary for one will be crying 'Mercy!'" -</p> - -<p> -But for the moment Rosemary showed no sign of crying any such thing. Her -nimble feet had quickly caught the quaint, syncopated rhythm, and Philip -was a magnificent teacher. Perhaps there was some truth in the saying -that he had inherited a strain of gipsy blood, for indeed when he danced -the <i>csàrdàs</i> there was something barbaric about his movements. They -were full of grace and perfect in rhythm, but all the time they gave the -impression of wild roamings through desert lands, of a will that brooked -no fetters and was a law unto itself. Rosemary gave herself wholly to -the pleasure of being whirled round, turned and twisted, sometimes -lifted off her feet. All intellectuality fell away from her for the time -being: she was just like a young and beautiful animal in enjoyment of -the senses kind Nature had given her, the sound of that intoxicating -music, the feeling of unfettered movement, the scent of dying roses in -huge vases, that sent their sweet indefinable fragrance through the -heat-laden air. -</p> - -<p> -Faster, ever faster! Little hoarse cries escaped her throat as Philip -seized her with one arm round the waist, and, lifting her off her feet, -twirled her round and round till the golden lights of the shaded candles -swam like the trail of comets before her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Faster! Always faster. She could hardly see now out of her eyes; all -that she saw was Philip's dark, curly hair waving around his forehead. -The music seemed now a part of the universe, not played by one band of -musicians, but the very atmosphere itself vibrating and resounding, -forcing her to tread the measure and not to leave off, to go on—and -on—and on—always hearing the music—always lifted off her -feet and whirled round and round— -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly everything ceased all at once. The music, the movement, -everything. Rosemary would have fallen, giddy, dazed, but for the fact -that Jasper, quick as lightning, had caught her in his arms. Her -instinct was to laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"What happened?" she asked, rather wildly. -</p> - -<p> -Then only did she look about her. First she saw Jasper's face bending -over her, but he was not looking at her: he was gazing straight across -the room. Rosemary's eyes followed his gaze. And all at once she gave a -gasp, which she smothered instantly by clapping her hand to her mouth. -The whole aspect of the room had changed. The gipsies seemed to have -shrunk into a dark corner, with their instruments tucked hastily under -their arms; they seemed to be trying to make themselves invisible. Two -of them had crawled under the piano; only their feet, in shabby, -down-at-heel shoes, protruded under the folds of rich brocade that -covered the instrument. -</p> - -<p> -And in the centre of the room there was a group of men, some half-dozen, -in the uniform of the Roumanian army. One of them had his hand on -Philip's shoulder. Philip stood in the midst of them; his dark face was -still flushed with the dance, his curly hair clung to his streaming -forehead. He was still panting with the movement and excitement of a -moment ago, and his eyes, dark and glowing, wandered ceaselessly from -one soldier's face to another. -</p> - -<p> -Under the lintel of the great double doors that gave on the hall a -couple of men servants stood, scared. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary's ears were buzzing and she saw everything through a veil; the -room had not yet quite ceased whirling about her, but through the din in -her ears and the hammering in her head she heard the ominous words: -"Resistance will do you no good. You had best come quietly." They were -spoken in Roumanian, which Rosemary understood. -</p> - -<p> -Then there came a cry like that of a wounded beast, and Maurus Imrey -jumped to his feet. With head down he charged into the soldiers just -like an infuriated bull. Of course, he was seized at once, dragged back, -forced down into a chair, where, with arms gripped by the soldiers, he -launched forth a torrent of invective and abuse, and now and then, when -he succeeded in freeing one of his arms, he hit out to right and left -with his fist. -</p> - -<p> -One of the soldiers, who appeared to be in command, spoke to him with -cold deliberation: -</p> - -<p> -"You are behaving like a fool, M. le Comte," he said. "For let me tell -you that if you interfere with my men in the execution of their duty I -will take you along, too." -</p> - -<p> -Maurus's answer to this sound piece of advice was a fresh torrent of -vituperation. He shook himself free from the hands that held him down, -raised a menacing fist, and cried hoarsely: -</p> - -<p> -"If you dare to touch me, you miserable——" -</p> - -<p> -But suddenly stronger arms than those of the soldiers were thrown around -him and forced him back into the chair. They were his wife's arms. Elza -Imrey throughout all this had thought of nothing but the danger to -Philip. The humiliation of this descent upon her house, the insolent -attitude of the soldiers, this bringing home the fact of alien -occupation and alien government, hardly affected her. Her one thought -was Philip. The danger to Philip doubled and trebled by his father's -ungoverned temper. And, my God, if he should strike one of the soldiers! -So she held Maurus down, held her hand across his mouth; and Rosemary -could hear her whispering in a thick, choked voice: -</p> - -<p> -"Maurus, in God's name! Maurus, keep quiet! Maurus, for Philip's sake, -hold your tongue!" -</p> - -<p> -He struggled desperately, but she held him as only a mother can hold -that which threatens her child. The soldier looked on with a sardonic -smile. When Maurus at last was forced into silence, he shrugged his -shoulders and said drily: -</p> - -<p> -"You are very wise, madame, to keep M. le Comte's temper in check for -him. My orders are that if any resistance is offered to take all three -of you along. I need not tell you that after that you two will be sent -packing out of the country, and your son——" -</p> - -<p> -A cry from Elza broke into his complacent speech. At once she became -humble, cringing, all the pride of the aristocrat was submerged in the -devastating anxiety of the mother. She still held Maurus down, for she -dared not loosen her hold on him, but she turned a tear-stained face, -pathetic-looking in its expression of appeal, toward the Roumanian. -</p> - -<p> -"You must not take any notice of his lordship, captain," she said, -trying in vain to speak lightly and to steady her voice. "You—you -have known him for years, haven't you? You remember—he was always -a little excitable—you used to amuse yourselves—you and your -brother officers—by making him angry with one of the peasants, and -seeing the men's terror of him? You remember," she reiterated, with the -same pathetic effort at conciliation, "when we were at Tusnàd and you -were in garrison at Sinaia, you used to motor over for luncheons and -balls and——" -</p> - -<p> -"It is not a part of a soldier's duty, madame," the young soldier broke -in curtly, "to remember such incidents. If M. le Comte will cease to -insult my men, we will leave him in peace. Otherwise you both come with -me." -</p> - -<p> -He turned sharply on his heel and spoke with one of his men. Apparently -he was willing to give Maurus Imrey time to make up his mind what he -would do. Rosemary still could hear Elza's voice thick and hoarse with -anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -"Maurus, in the name of Heaven——" The same refrain, the same -reiterated prayer for submission, the one thing that would help to make -Philip's lot easier. They could not do anything to Philip, of course. -What had the poor lad done? Nothing. The mother racked her brain, -thinking, thinking what he had done. Nothing. He had taken the oath of -allegiance to the new King. Next year he would do his military service, -a perfect hell; but Philip had never grumbled. And he had never joined -in with those senseless political groups who met at night in -out-of-the-way places about Cluj and dreamed dreams of freeing Hungary -one day. Philip had never done anything so foolish. This cloud, -therefore, would blow over. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding. -With silence and submission it would all blow over. -</p> - -<p> -But Philip all along had never said a word. The first inkling that he -had of this sudden danger that threatened him was the grip of a heavy -hand upon his shoulder. Breathless with the dance, he had not made a -movement or uttered a word of protest. His great, dark gipsy eyes -wandered defiantly from the captain's face to those of the men, but he -asked no questions. He knew well enough what had happened. -</p> - -<p> -Two days ago he had ridden over to Cluj with certain newspaper articles -in his pocket. He had given them to Anna. Together the cousins had spent -one of those happy days which seemed to compensate them for all the -risks they ran. Well, he had been suspected, spied upon and followed. -The strain of fatalism which ran through his veins with the gipsy blood -of his forebear bade him accept the inevitable. Slowly his dark face -became composed, his lips ceased to twitch, and the roaming glance of -his dark eyes became fixed. Rosemary, looking up, saw the glance fixed -upon her. In it she read the one word: "Anna!" Philip was pleading to -her mutely, desperately, for Anna. And this intuition which came to her -when she met Philip's glance gave her the power to shake oh the torpor -that had invaded her limbs when the dance ceased so suddenly and she had -fallen backwards into Jasper's arms. -</p> - -<p> -Like Philip himself, she saw what had happened. The spies, the ride to -Cluj, the articles given to Anna. And now the arrest of Philip and the -deadly peril that threatened the girl. -</p> - -<p> -"Can we do anything?" she whispered hurriedly to Jasper, and with quick, -nervy movements she patted her hair into place and readjusted her -tumbled gown. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper shook his head. "We should do no good by interfering," he said -gravely. -</p> - -<p> -But Rosemary was in no mood to listen. She remembered Naniescu and his -promises, the powers he had given her, the request that she should speak -the truth. She felt that she was a force to be conciliated, and here was -the moment to test her own power. -</p> - -<p> -Without another word she ran out of the room and then through the great -hall to the outer vestibule, where stood the telephone. While she took -down the receiver and hurriedly gave the number of the Imrey palace at -Cluj, she prayed in her heart that a few minutes' respite would be -granted her before the soldiers marched Philip away. -</p> - -<p> -"Hallo! Hallo! His Excellency General Naniescu! Lady Tarkington wishes -to speak with his Excellency at once! Say it is urgent—most urgent. -Yes, Lady Tarkington, the English lady at Kis-Imre. No, no, never mind -the name, please. Just say the English lady from Kis-Imre." -</p> - -<p> -Another moment or two of agonising suspense, then Naniescu's mellow -voice. Thank God! He was at home, and she was through to him. -</p> - -<p> -"General Naniescu? Lady Tarkington speaking! Thank you, I am -well—very well. Yes, my first article goes early next week. Yes, -quite happy so far. General Naniescu, Philip Imrey has been summarily -arrested. . . . I don't know. . . . There's a captain in charge. No, he -did not say. . . . Yes, I am sure it is a mistake, but the mistake may -prove fatal unless——Yes, yes! You will? Really? To-morrow -morning? You are kind. I hardly liked to ask you. Of course, I shall be -here. Will you speak to the captain yourself now? I thank you with all -my heart. Will you hold the line? I'll send the captain to you. I don't -know how to thank you. No, nothing else to-night; but I am looking -forward to thanking you myself to-morrow morning. About ten o'clock. -Yes! Thank you a thousand times. Good night!" -</p> - -<p> -She had hardly finished speaking when she heard the tramping of feet -coming from the drawing-room and then across the hall, and glancing -round, she saw the soldiers filing out two by two, with their captain -beside them and Philip in their midst. There was no other sound except -this tramping of feet. No protests, no shrieks. Philip in the midst of -the soldiers, and behind them Elza creeping along, silent, watchful, her -great eyes fixed upon what she could see of her son—the dark, curly -hair and sometimes the top of his shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary waited until the captain was quite close to her. He saluted and -was about to pass, when, like a triumphant goddess, she turned and faced -him. -</p> - -<p> -"His Excellency the Governor, on the telephone," she said curtly, and -held the receiver out to the young soldier. "He desires to speak with -you." -</p> - -<p> -The Roumanian, obviously very much taken aback, looked at her for a -moment or two, frowning before he took the receiver from her. The group -of soldiers had halted, waiting for further orders. Behind them Elza -hovered, her white face and golden hair alone visible in the gloom. -</p> - -<p> -After that instant's hesitation the captain put the receiver to his ear. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Excellency. No, Excellency. Yes, Excellency." Then a long, long -wait, while the captain stood with the receiver against his ear, and -Elza came nearer, watching, hoping, mutely questioning; and Rosemary, -with glowing eyes and an enigmatic smile, put a finger up to her lips. -Finally: "I quite understand, Excellency. Quite! Absolutely!" And the -captain hung up the receiver. -</p> - -<p> -Then he turned to Elza, who had drawn close to Rosemary, quite close; he -clicked his heels together and touched his képi with his right hand. -</p> - -<p> -"By order of his Excellency General Naniescu," he said, "Count Philip -Imrey is free to remain under this roof. He will give his word of honour -that he will not attempt to leave the castle until after the arrival of -his Excellency in the course of the morning." -</p> - -<p> -And thus the incident was closed. Philip gave the required parole, and -with more clicking of heels and salutes the young captain marched out of -the house, followed by his men. Then only did Elza break down, when she -put her arms round Philip's shoulders and sobbed her heart out against -his breast. He appeared more dazed than relieved, and kept his eyes -fixed on Rosemary, whilst with his long, thin hand he stroked and patted -his mother's hair. Rosemary gave him an encouraging glance. "It was for -Anna's sake," her glance said mutely. "In any case, Anna will be safe." -</p> - -<p> -And the incident being closed, she went back to the drawing-room. Jasper -held out a hand to her, and when she placed her hand in his he raised it -to his lips. She took it as a sign of his approval, and bending down, -she gave him her forehead to kiss. He just took her face between his two -palms and gazed long and intently into her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -He had often done that before; he loved to take hold of her face, to -feel the soft velvety cheeks against his hands, and Rosemary would turn -her pixie eyes to his and in one glance express all the affection, the -sincere regard and fervent gratitude which she felt for him. But somehow -this time it all seemed different, more intense, almost terrifying. To a -sensitive woman a man's passion, if she cannot respond to it, is always -terrifying; and, of course, Rosemary's nerves were stretched now almost -to breaking point. Else why should she be conscious of a sense of fear? -</p> - -<p> -Jasper's gaze was not so much searching her soul as striving to reveal -his. Something in him seemed imprisoned, and he was asking her to set -that something free. A force, a power, greater even than his love, so -great that love itself became its slave. And this Rosemary could not -understand. She had experienced something of the same sensation that -afternoon in London when he had asked her to marry him before she left -for Hungary. Then, as now, she had caught a glimpse of a whirlpool of -passion which seethed beneath her husband's grave, gentle manner. Then, -as now, it had seemed to her as if he were trying to exert some -supernatural power outside himself, to rouse an echo of his own passion -in her heart. And with that glimpse into the depths of a man's soul came -the knowledge that never would it be in her power to give soul for soul or -passion for passion. And yet the day would come—she felt it, knew it -at this moment—when the man, wearied of sentimental doles, would -demand her whole surrender—body, brain, soul, everything, soul above -all—which she would not be prepared to give. -</p> - -<p> -Strange that this realization, this vague feeling akin to fear, should -come to her again at this moment, when both she and Jasper were only -minor actors in the drama that had just drawn to its close. Like most -great moments in the inner life of the soul, it only lasted for one -brief flash. It left its indelible mark on Rosemary's memory, but it -lasted less than one second. The very next she tried to recapture it, -but it was gone. Jasper looked grave and kind, as he always did, busy -now with getting her comfortably ensconced in a capacious armchair, -with plenty of cushions behind her back. Elza came in with Philip, and -Maurus roused himself from his apathy to hurl invectives against those -damnable, impudent Roumanians. -</p> - -<p> -And the gipsy musicians, reassured, crawled out of their hiding-places, -and their leader, shouldering his violin, began to play a dreamy melody. -One by one the others fell in harmony, the 'cello, the bass, the -clarionet, and the inimitable cimbalom. "There is but one beautiful -girl in all the world," was the tune that they played; its soft, -languorous cadence rose and fell in the air wherein the dying roses once -more sent up their voluptuous fragrance. Forgotten was the danger just -past, the peril still ahead. Music, the never-failing expression of -emotion in these romantic people, soothed their nerves and uttered the -words which would not rise to their lips. Elza sat with Philip's hand in -hers. Rosemary, with eyes fixed far away, caught herself gazing on the -memory picture of a dark recess in a box in the Albert Hall, with the -noise and whirl of a big social function about her, but with complete -isolation there in the darkness; and through the deafening noise memory -conjured up a man's voice that murmured with passionate earnestness: "It -is no use, my dear, thinking that all is over." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII</a></h4> - -<p> -The morning was as clear as crystal, the sky of a translucent turquoise -blue. Away on the right the masses of soft-toned purple kills stretched -their undulating lines like waving veils, hiding the mysteries of the -horizon. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had thrown open the windows of her bedroom and stepped out upon -the balcony. With arms outstretched she drank in the intoxicating air, -laden with the scent of heliotrope and lilies. She had the delicious -feeling of having accomplished something, of having tested her power and -found it absolute. Naniescu, on the telephone, had been almost -apologetic when she told him about Philip's arrest. He declared that -there was some mistake, and that he himself would come over in the -morning and inquire into the matter. Rosemary was young enough to feel a -naïve pleasure in her work. That Philip Imrey was restored then and -there to his mother's arms was her work, the outcome of her position in -the journalistic and political world. And the knowledge that this was so -was as intoxicating as the fragrant air on this perfect late July -morning. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later she heard the pleasant noise of the rattling -coffee-cups in the room behind her. She turned in, ready to embrace the -little housemaid who looked after her so cheerfully. In fact, Rosemary -was in a mood to embrace the whole world. Contrary to her usual happy -way, however, the little housemaid did not look up when Rosemary came -in. As a rule she would run and kiss the gracious lady's hand, according -to the pretty custom of her country. To-day she just rattled the -coffee-cups, and Rosemary noticed that her hands were shaking and that -she turned her head very obviously away. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Rosa?" Rosemary asked in her best Hungarian, of which she -had learned quite a good deal at different times. "Why don't you come -and say good morning?" -</p> - -<p> -The kind voice and the necessity to respond to the gracious lady's -inquiry broke down the barrier of Rosa's self-control. She raised her -apron to her eyes and burst into a flood of tears. The next moment -Rosemary was by her side, her arms round the girl's shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"Rosa!" she said, "Rosa! what is it? Tell me, little thing. What is it? -Who has made you cry?" -</p> - -<p> -But Rosa only went on sobbing, and murmuring between her sobs: "Oh, -gracious lady! gracious lady! What a calamity! What a dreadful -calamity!" -</p> - -<p> -After a few seconds of this Rosemary began to lose patience. She was -English and practical, Rosa's continued sobbing and incoherent -mutterings got on her nerves. She gave the girl a good-humoured shake. -</p> - -<p> -"What calamity, Rosa?" she queried. "Bless the girl! I'll smack you, -Rosa, if you don't speak." -</p> - -<p> -Now this was a language that Rosa understood far better than a string of -kindly inquiries. She had been smacked by her mother, almost as soon as -she was born, she had been smacked by her elder sister, by her -grandmother, by her aunt and by her father while she grew up, and when -she started service in the château and was silly or tiresome she had -been smacked by the gracious Countess. Being smacked did not hurt, but -it acted as a tonic, and braced up Rosa's slackened nerves. The threat -of it by the gracious English lady at once dried the well of her tears, -she wiped her nose and eyes with her apron and murmured: -</p> - -<p> -"The gracious Count Philip—they have taken him away." -</p> - -<p> -At first Rosemary did not take it in. She did not trust her ears, or her -knowledge of Hungarian. She must, she thought, have misunderstood Rosa, -or else Rosa was talking like a fool. But Rosemary's grasp tightened on -the girl's arm, her fingers buried themselves in the young, firm flesh. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean, Rosa?" she queried. "What do you mean about the -gracious Count? Who has taken him away?" -</p> - -<p> -"The soldiers, gracious lady," Rosa murmured. -</p> - -<p> -"What soldiers?" which was a foolish question on Rosemary's part—and -she knew it. There were no soldiers now in Transylvania except the -Roumanian soldiers. But somehow the thing would not penetrate into her -brain—she felt that, too, and wanted to give it time to sink in -slowly, slowly. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa now ventured to look the English lady in the face. Her big, blue -eyes were still swimming in tears. -</p> - -<p> -"The Roumanian soldiers, gracious lady," she said, "the ones who came -last night." -</p> - -<p> -"But they went away again last night, Rosa," Rosemary explained -deliberately and patiently, "they went away and the gracious Count -Philip remained at home, he went to bed as we all did. Anton must have -waited on him, as he always does." -</p> - -<p> -But Rosa gave a deep sigh and gulped down a fresh flood of tears that -threatened to choke her. -</p> - -<p> -"Anton did wait on the gracious Count when he went to bed. But soon -after midnight the soldiers returned. Feri, the night watchman at the -gate, had to let them in. They ordered him not to make a noise, only to -rouse the gracious Count's valet. So Feri went to call Anton, as quietly -as he could, for the soldiers kept threatening him that if he made a -noise they would beat him. Poor Anton nearly fainted with terror—you -know, gracious lady, Anton always was a coward—what would you," Rosa -added with a shrug. "A gipsy." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes! Yes!" Rosemary urged impatiently. "Go on, girl, go on." -</p> - -<p> -"The soldiers would not even allow Anton to dress himself. Just as he -was he had to go and rouse the gracious Count Philip. The soldiers were -threatening to burn the house down if any one made a noise, but I am -sure that Feri and Anton were too scared to think of screaming. The -gracious Count jumped out of bed: the soldiers stood by while he -dressed, but they would not allow him to take anything with him except -just the clothes he put on—no money—not his watch—not a -letter—nothing. Feri says that the soldiers were in the house and out -again in less than a quarter of an hour. They took the gracious Count -with them, but four of them remained behind; they made Feri and Anton -sit together in the lodge and kept guard over them until an hour ago. -Then they went away and Anton ran in with the news. Oh! you should have -seen the gracious Countess! It was pitiable—pitiable, though she said -nothing and she did not cry. My God! My God! What is to become of us -all?" -</p> - -<p> -The girl started wringing her hands, and her voice became loud and -shrill with the sobs that would no longer be suppressed. -</p> - -<p> -"Be quiet, Rosa, be quiet!" Rosemary said once or twice quite -mechanically. She had taken it all in at last: the trick, the awful -treachery, the cruelty of it all. She stood there beside the sobbing -girl, with hands tightly clenched and a deep frown between her brows. -She wanted to think. To think. Something would have to be done, and done -quickly. But what? Naniescu? What rôle did he play in this mean -trickery? Rosemary was a woman who thought straight and acted straight: -so consistently straight, in fact, that she never could visualise -treachery in others. In the wide, wide world that attitude of mind is -called the attitude of a fool. Yet Rosemary Tarkington was anything but -a fool. Perhaps she was lacking in the intuition of evil: certain it is -that at this moment she would not allow herself to think that Naniescu -was a party to the abominable deed. The young officer, perhaps, or the -local commandant who might have a grudge against the Imreys. But -Naniescu? No! -</p> - -<p> -She sent the girl away; Rosa's round, pink face with the round, blue -eyes and round-tipped nose was getting on her nerves. The girl was -comical in her grief, and when Rosemary looked at her she felt an -uncontrollable desire to laugh. And this would have horrified Rosa. So -she sent Rosa away. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later Jasper came in, ready for breakfast. One glance at -his face and Rosemary knew that he, too, had heard the news. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you think of it?" Rosemary asked after she had given him a fond -morning kiss. -</p> - -<p> -"My darling," Jasper replied in his cool, British manner, "I only think -that you are making a grave mistake in throwing yourself headlong into -the politics of these out-of-the-way countries. . . ." -</p> - -<p> -"It is not a question of politics, Jasper," Rosemary broke in, -protesting. -</p> - -<p> -"I know, my dear, I know. Your warm heart prompts you to interfere there -where prudence would dictate the wiser course of closing one's eyes. You -would not be the adorable woman that you are if you acted differently. -But, believe me, my darling, it is not wise. You will only run your -lovely head against a stone wall, and in the end do no good. You must -let these people fight out their quarrels their own way. They are not -our kind; we don't understand them. My firm conviction is that you will -only do harm by interference. Mind you, I haven't a doubt that young -Imrey has done something stupid. They are a hot-headed lot, these -Hungarians, especially the young ones, and, of course, they don't like -the present régime. The government in power has a perfect right to -protect itself against conspiracy and rebellion, even though we -outsiders may think that those conspiracies are futile, and the measures -of repression unduly harsh. Leave them alone, my dear," Jasper concluded -more lightly, with a shrug, "and have a cup of hot coffee." -</p> - -<p> -He settled himself down on the sofa and tried to draw her down to him. -But Rosemary was not in the mood for sentiment. Reason whispered to her -that Jasper was right—he was always right, worse luck!—she -knew that Philip Imrey had acted foolishly—very, very -foolishly—and that, as a matter of fact, in this case the -commandant (or whoever was responsible for Philip's arrest) was entirely -within his rights. She, certainly as an impartial spectator of events, -brought here for the express purpose of seeing the truth and nothing but -the truth, could not in conscience make capital of this incident. She -had come out here determined not to act on impulse, but to judge coolly -and without bias, and thus to consolidate her reputation as one of the -foremost women journalists of the day. With Sir Philip Gibbs as her -master, and model, she could not go back on the ideal of justice and -impartiality which she had set herself. But she did want to save Philip -Imrey from the consequences of his own folly. And, above all, she wanted -to know what had become of Anna. -</p> - -<p> -"I cannot leave them alone, Jasper," she said slowly. "I cannot. All -this petty tyranny makes my blood boil." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper sighed somewhat impatiently. "I know, my dear, I know," he -reiterated vaguely. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary did not continue the discussion for the moment; Jasper was so -right in everything he said, and Philip Imrey had been desperately -foolish. Now she blamed herself for not having worked on Anna's mind and -dissuaded her from lending herself to her cousin's mad schemes. She -mentioned Anna's name to her husband, but Jasper knowing nothing of the -girl's dangerous activities in Balog's grocery stores, could not, of -course, see that Anna was in any kind of danger. -</p> - -<p> -"But," Rosemary argued, "Anna and Philip are first cousins, they see a -great deal of one another——" -</p> - -<p> -"Do they?" Jasper ejaculated. "But even so, my dear, you surely are not -going to suppose that the Roumanian government is going to lay hands on -all Philip Imrey's relations, just because he has run his silly head -into a noose." -</p> - -<p> -"No! No!" Rosemary protested vaguely. -</p> - -<p> -But she could not say anything more on the subject of Anna. Anna had -told her everything in confidence: "I know I can trust you, Rosemary," -the child had said, and Rosemary could not betray that confidence—not -even by speaking of it all to Jasper—not even by hinting at it. If -the peril became more imminent—if Anna herself was in -danger—then perhaps. But not now. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary tried to swallow some breakfast, just to please jasper, for his -kind, grave eyes looked quite sad, and she did not want to add to his -anxiety. But her thoughts were dwelling on Elza. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder if she could bear to see me," she said presently. -</p> - -<p> -"You can always ask," was Jasper's wise suggestion. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary found Elza Imrey outwardly quite calm and resigned. That woman -had a marvellous fund of common sense and self-control. What she -suffered no one should know. Only when she read true understanding and -mute sympathy in Rosemary's eyes, she gave an answering look which -contained such a depth of sorrow and anxiety that Rosemary's heart was -overwhelmed with pity. In these few hours Elza had aged twenty years. -Anton had brought the news across from the lodge to the château in the -early morning as soon as the Roumanian soldiers had gone away. The -gracious Countess had received the news with extraordinary indifference, -was the verdict on the incident below stairs; Rosa was crying her eyes -out, all the menservants went about cursing and swearing and threatening -to kill some one, but the gracious Countess had not shed one tear. When -she had heard Anton's report, she asked a few questions: what suit had -the gracious Count put on? did he take an overcoat? what shoes did he -wear? and so on; but never a tear. Then she said: "Very well, Anton, you -may go!" and that was all. No! No! It was not natural. But then these -great ladies! . . . One never knew! -</p> - -<p> -No one ever did know to what height a mother's heroism could go. Elza, -with her heart nearly broken, thought only of what was best for Philip. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course, he has done nothing!" she reiterated over and over again, -"so they can't do anything to him." -</p> - -<p> -Then her voice would break on a note of pathetic appeal; she would seize -Rosemary's hands and search the depths of her English friend's eyes, -with the look of a poor stricken animal begging for sympathy. -</p> - -<p> -"Can they?" she asked, and Rosemary would shake her head, not trusting -herself to speak. It was no use now rending the mother's heart, adding -another load of anxiety to the heavily burdened soul. Elza would know -soon enough. Soon enough! And she could do nothing even if she knew now. -</p> - -<p> -Maurus was shut up in his own apartments, tearing up and down like a -best in its cage, raging and swearing. That was his temperament, Elza -said philosophically, with a shrug; the Armenian blood in him. (She -never would admit the gipsy strain.) Fortunately the servants were all -Hungarian; faithful and discreet. They knew him. When he was in one of -those moods they fled from him; but not one of them would betray him. -Now he was threatening to kill every Roumanian that ever crossed his -path. Well, fortunately there was no one to hear him—only the -servants, and they would hold their tongues. -</p> - -<p> -"Maurus won't understand," Elza explained to Rosemary, "that our chance -is submission. If they turn us out of here it will be the end of -Philip's inheritance. We must save that at all costs. What is the -sacrifice of a little pride when it means so much for Philip's future. -Things can't go on as they are—not for long, and if only I can keep -Maurus quiet, we shall have Philip back here in a week." -</p> - -<p> -Then she harked back on the old refrain. "He has done nothing. They -can't do anything to him. Can they?" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Naniescu arrived soon after ten o'clock. Rosemary heard the hooting of -his motor when it turned in at the gate, also the general bustle, -clatter, running about that ensued. Her rooms, with the balcony -overlooking the park, were on the other side of the house, so she saw -nothing of this; but somehow after the arrival of his Excellency, the -stately château appeared to have lost something of its dignified -quietude. Loud voices resounded from end to end of the galleried hall, -footsteps that sounded almost aggressive echoed along the corridors. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had gone down some time ago for a stroll in the park, while -Rosemary dressed. She was sorry now that she had not asked him to be -sure to come back so as to support her in her interview with Naniescu. -However, this wish was only a momentary weakness. She had been -accustomed for years past to stand on her own feet, to act for herself, -and to take swift decisions without outside advice. So now, with a -careless shrug, she turned back to the important task of dressing; this -she did with deliberate care, then surveyed herself critically in the -glass, and, having satisfied herself that Rosemary Tarkington was in no -way less beautiful than Rosemary Fowkes had been, she settled herself -down in her boudoir with a book and waited. -</p> - -<p> -A very few minutes later one of the men came to announce that his -Excellency General Naniescu desired to pay his respects to Lady -Tarkington. -</p> - -<p> -He came in looking breezy and gallant. He kissed Rosemary's hand, sat -down on the chair she indicated to him, inquired after the state of her -health, her journey, her work, all in a mellifluous voice and in -execrable English. In fact, for the first five minutes of this momentous -visit he was just a pleasant, cheerful man of the world, exchanging -banalities with a pretty woman. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Et ce cher Tarkington?</i>" he queried. "How is he?" -</p> - -<p> -"My husband will be in, in a moment or two," Rosemary replied, trying to -bring the conversation round to the all-important subject. "He will, of -course, make a point of not failing to see you." She made a slight, -insignificant pause, then she went on more seriously: "I can assure you, -M. le Général, that Lord Tarkington's interest in our dear host and -hostess is just as keen as mine." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course, of course," Naniescu rejoined vaguely, with a sweep of his -well-manicured hand. "They are very foolish people, these Imreys. And -that young man! Dear lady, you have not an idea what trouble we have -with these Hungarians! They are all a little <i>toqué!</i> What you call so -admirably in your picturesque language: they have a bee in their bonnet. -What?" -</p> - -<p> -He laughed, very pleased with himself for what he apparently considered -a little joke. -</p> - -<p> -"A bee in their bonnet," he reiterated, still waving his white podgy, -hands about. He set his teeth together and made a sound to represent the -buzzing of bees. "Buzz! Just like that! But bees," he added curtly, "are -apt to be tiresome. Is it not so?" -</p> - -<p> -"You choose to look upon the matter lightly, M. le Général," Rosemary -rejoined, with a touch of impatience, "but to these unfortunate people -the summary arrest of their only son is anything but a light matter. On -the telephone last night——" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, the telephone!" the general broke in with an affected sigh. "A -marvellous invention! What? But it is difficult on the telephone to give -those little nuances which are the essence of conversation. It was -wonderful to hear your melodious voice on the telephone last evening. I -was not expecting to hear it, and it was delightful! Like a spirit voice -coming from a place unseen to soothe me to pleasant dreams." -</p> - -<p> -He tried to capture her hand, and when she snatched it away with obvious -irritation he gave a soft, guttural laugh and gazed with a look of bold -admiration into her eyes. Rosemary felt her temper rising, and nothing -but her knowledge that this distinctly unpleasant personage had supreme -power over those she cared for kept her impatience in check. -</p> - -<p> -"General Naniescu," she said, quietly determined, "you must forgive me -if I cannot enter into your playful mood just now. The only son of my -very dear friend is under arrest for an offence of which he knows -nothing, and, moreover, he was arrested under circumstances that are -entirely unjustifiable, seeing that this country is not, I presume, -under martial law." -</p> - -<p> -"Not under martial law, certainly, dear lady," Naniescu was willing to -admit, and did so with a certain measure of seriousness, "but under -strict disciplinary law, framed by a suzerain state for the protection -of its own nationals in occupied territory. But let that pass. You -graciously informed me over the telephone last night that young Imrey -was arrested, and I gave orders to the captain in charge for his -immediate release. As I intended to come over here in the course of the -morning, I was willing to let the matter stand until I had investigated -it myself." -</p> - -<p> -"Count Philip Imrey was released at ten o'clock yesterday evening, and -rearrested in the middle of the night; he was not even given the chance -of saying good-bye to his parents, or of providing himself with the -necessary clothing and money. I imagine, M. le Général," Rosemary went -on coldly, "that this was done by your orders, or at any rate that you -were not kept in ignorance of it." -</p> - -<p> -For the fraction of a second Naniescu hesitated; then he said cynically: -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; certainly I knew of it. I may even say that it was done by my -orders." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary suppressed a cry of indignation. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then?" she exclaimed hotly. -</p> - -<p> -But Naniescu, not in the least taken aback, only retorted blandly: -</p> - -<p> -"And how am I to interpret that enigmatic query, dear lady?" -</p> - -<p> -"As a challenge to justify your actions," was Rosemary's bold reply. -</p> - -<p> -Then, as he gave no immediate answer, but allowed his mellow dark eyes -to rest with a distinctly mocking glance on her face, Rosemary felt a -hot flush rise slowly to her cheeks. Just for an instant she felt at a -disadvantage. She was obviously not in a position to demand explanations -from a man who belonged to the governing classes in his own country. -With every belief in the power of the press, Rosemary had far too much -common sense not to realize that a man in Naniescu's position would not -put up with being dictated to, or cross-examined, by a stranger, however -influential he or she might be. So once again she swallowed her -resentment, determined that whatever chance she had of helping the -Imreys should not be wrecked through want of tact on her part. -Diplomacy, good temper, and, if necessary, seeming complaisance, would -be more likely to win the day than any attempt at threatening. -</p> - -<p> -"Monsieur le Général," she resumed, after a while, "I know that you -will forgive me for my seeming ill-humour. I have witnessed so much -sorrow these last few hours that I suppose my nerves are rather jarred. -I know, of course, that it is not my place to criticise the measures -which your Government chooses to impose on a subject race. As a suzerain -state Roumania has a perfect right to defend what she believes to be her -own interests, and in a manner that she thinks best. Will you forgive me -the sharp words I allowed to slip just now?" -</p> - -<p> -And with a return of that charm of manner which even more than beauty -held most men in thrall, Rosemary put out her hand. The gallant -Roumanian, without a trace of mockery now in his large, dark eyes, took -it in both his own; then he stooped and kissed the dainty finger-tips. -</p> - -<p> -"And now," Rosemary went on resolutely, "that I have made <i>amende -honorable</i>, will you allow me to plead the Imreys' cause in all -earnestness. In the name of humanity, Monsieur le Général? The boy is -only nineteen." -</p> - -<p> -The general leaned back in his chair, his well-manicured fingers gently -stroking his silky moustache, his eyes no longer attempting to conceal -the satisfaction which he felt at seeing this exquisitely beautiful -woman in the rôle of a suppliant before him. Now when she paused he -gave an indifferent shrug. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear lady," he said, "my experience of this part of the world is that -boys and girls of nineteen who give up jazzing and have not started -making love, but who choose to meddle in politics, are veritable pests." -</p> - -<p> -"But Philip Imrey does not meddle in politics," Rosemary protested. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you quite sure of that?" he retorted. -</p> - -<p> -As he said this his eyes became quite small, and piercing like two -little flaming darts; but though his sudden challenge had sent a stab of -apprehension through Rosemary's heart, her glance never faltered, and -she lied straight out, lied boldly without hesitation, without a blush. -</p> - -<p> -"I am quite sure," she replied. -</p> - -<p> -And the only compunction she felt over that lie was when she -realized—as she did at once—that the Roumanian did not believe -her. -</p> - -<p> -"Little Anna Heves did not confide in you?" he asked, with perfect -suavity. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Just what I said, dear lady. Anna Heves and Philip Imrey are two young -hotheads who have given us an infinity of trouble. For a long time we -could not find out how certain pernicious articles, injurious to the -good reputation of Roumania, found their way into the English and -American press. Now we know." -</p> - -<p> -"Your spy system seems more efficient than your censorship," Rosemary -retorted bitterly. -</p> - -<p> -"That is beside the point." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; the point is that those two are mere children." -</p> - -<p> -"I dare say the judges will take that into account, and deal leniently -with them." -</p> - -<p> -"With them?" Rosemary exclaimed, and suddenly a new terror gripped her -heart. "With them? You don't mean——?" -</p> - -<p> -"What, dear lady?" he queried suavely. -</p> - -<p> -"That Anna——?" -</p> - -<p> -"Anna Heves, yes; the late Baron Heves' daughter, now a saleswoman in -the shop of Balog the grocer. I often wondered how she came to demean -herself in that way. Now I understand." -</p> - -<p> -"But surely, surely," Rosemary protested, striving in vain to steady her -voice, which was quaking with this new, this terrible anxiety, "you have -not arrested Anna Heves? The child has done nothing——" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu put up his hand with a gesture of protest. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear lady," he said, with quiet irony and in a tone one would use to an -obstinate child, "let me assure you once and for all that the -accusations against Philip Imrey and his cousin do not rest upon -assumptions, but upon facts. Anna Heves was arrested, and she will be -brought to trial because she was found—actually found, mind -you—smuggling newspaper articles, defamatory to the Government of -this country, for insertion in foreign journals. English sense of justice -is reputed to be very keen; your own must tell you that it is hardly fair -to bring the battery of your charms as a weapon to break down my sense -of duty. I lay, as always, my homage at your feet, but I should be a -traitor if, whilst gazing into your adorable eyes, I were to forget what -I owe to my country." -</p> - -<p> -Gradually he dropped the irony out of his tone, and his voice became -once more mellifluous and tender while he leaned forward, almost -touching Rosemary's knees with his, and striving to hold her glance with -the challenge of his own. Rosemary shrank back. Suddenly something of -the truth had dawned upon her. Not all of it just yet. It was only -presently—in a few more days—that she was destined to -realise the extent to which this man-half Oriental in his capacity for -lying—had hoodwinked and cajoled her. It was his mien, the thinly -veiled insult that lurked behind his suave speech and expressive eyes, -that suddenly tore the veil from before her own. And yet reason fought -for a moment against this wave of aversion. The man was right, -unquestionably right. Philip and Anna had been very foolish. And, what's -more, they were technically guilty of treason: there was no getting away -from that; and Rosemary could not shut her eyes to the fact that the -very lives of those she cared for were in the hands of this soft-toned -liar. At one moment she longed passionately for Jasper, the next she -would dread his coming, for she knew well enough that he, with his -straight matter-of-fact mode of thinking, would inevitably give Naniescu -his due, insist that the general was within his rights, and advise his -wife to keep clear of these imbroglios, which were so contrary to the -lenient, sportsmanlike English attitude toward a beaten enemy. -</p> - -<p> -On the whole she felt glad that Jasper was not here. He would hate to -see her plead. Yet plead she must. There was nothing else to do. She -must plead with fervour, plead with all the strength that she possessed, -all the eloquence that she could command. -</p> - -<p> -"In the name of humanity!" That was her chief plea; and with anxious -eyes she searched the man's face for the first trace of pity. -</p> - -<p> -"Anna and Philip are so young," she urged. "Mere children." -</p> - -<p> -But Naniescu smiled, that fat, complacent smile of his which she had -quickly learned to loathe. -</p> - -<p> -"You would not like me," she said at one moment, "to send an account of -it to all the English and American papers. Two children, one under -eighteen, the other not yet twenty, arrested in their beds at dead of -night, brought to trial for having smuggled a few newspaper articles -through the post. If you do not deal leniently with them——" -</p> - -<p> -"Who said we would not deal leniently with them?" Naniescu broke in -blandly. "Surely not I. I am not their judge." -</p> - -<p> -"General Naniescu," she retorted, "I have been in Transylvania long -enough to know that your powers here as military governor are supreme. -Leniency in this case," she urged insistently, "could only redound to -your credit, and to the credit of the country whom you serve." -</p> - -<p> -"But frankly, dear lady, I don't see what I can do. The case has passed -out of my hands——" -</p> - -<p> -"Send these children home with a caution, Monsieur le Général," -Rosemary went on pleading. "That is what we would do in England in a -like case." -</p> - -<p> -"To hatch more treason," he retorted, with a shrug. "Give us more -trouble—more buzzing of bees and pestilential -backbiting——" -</p> - -<p> -"No!" she protested hotly. "Not for that, but to be immensely grateful -to you for your generosity, and show their gratitude by striving to work -for the good of their country, hand in hand with yours." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, what noble sentiments, dear lady!" General Naniescu said with a -sigh and clapped his white, fat hands together. "I wish I could believe -that some of them will sink into those young hotheads." -</p> - -<p> -"They will, general, they will," Rosemary asserted eagerly. "If you will -send those two children back to their parents, I will not leave -Transylvania until you yourself are satisfied that I have brought them -to a reasonable frame of mind." -</p> - -<p> -"A hard task, dear lady," Naniescu said, with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"I would undertake a harder one than that," Rosemary rejoined, with an -answering smile, "to show my appreciation of your generosity." -</p> - -<p> -"Words, dear lady," he said softly. "Words!" -</p> - -<p> -"Try me!" she challenged. -</p> - -<p> -He made no immediate reply, and suddenly his eyes again narrowed as they -had done before, and their piercing glance rested upon Rosemary until -she felt that through those heavy lids something inimical and poisonous -had touched her. She felt a little shiver running down her spine, an -unaccountable sense of apprehension caused her to glance rapidly toward -the door, where she hoped to perceive Jasper's comforting presence. She -was not afraid, of course, nor did she regret her enthusiasm, or her -advocacy of the children's cause; but she had the sudden, vague feeling -that she had come to the brink of an abyss and that she was staring down -into unknown depths, into which unseen forces were urging her to leap. -</p> - -<p> -Slowly Naniescu's eyes reopened and the mellow expression crept back -into them; he gave a sigh of satisfaction, and settled himself down once -more comfortably on the cushions of the chair. -</p> - -<p> -"I am happy indeed, dear lady," he began, "that you yourself should have -made an offer, which I hardly dared to place before you." -</p> - -<p> -"An offer? What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Surely that was your intention, was it not, to do something in return -for the heavy sacrifice you are asking of me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sacrifice?" Rosemary queried, frowning. "What sacrifice?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sacrifice of my convictions. Duty calls to me very insistently in the -matter of those young traitors whom you, dear lady, are pleased to refer -to as children. I know that I should be doing wrong in giving them the -chance of doing more mischief. I know it," he reiterated emphatically, -"with as much certainty as I do the fact that they will not give up -trying to do mischief. But——" -</p> - -<p> -He paused and fell to studying with obvious satisfaction Rosemary's -beautiful, eager eyes fixed intently upon him. -</p> - -<p> -"But what, Monsieur le Général?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"But I am prepared to make the sacrifice of my convictions at your -bidding, if you, on the other hand, will do the same at mine." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary's frown deepened. "I don't think I quite understand," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"No," he retorted; "but you will—soon. Let me explain. You, dear -lady, have come to Transylvania wrapped in prejudice as in sheet-armour -against my unfortunate country. Oh, yes, you have," he went on blandly, -checking with an elegant gesture the cry of protest that had risen to -Rosemary's lips. "I am even prepared to admit that nothing that you have -seen in these first few days has tended to pierce that armour of -prejudice. Well, well!" and the general sighed again in that affected -way of his. "You have one of your wonderful sayings in England that -exactly meets this case: 'East is East,' you say, 'and West is West.' -This is the East really, and you Occidentals will never think as we do. -But I am wandering from my point, and you, dear lady, are getting -impatient. Having admitted everything that you would wish me to admit, I -now will come forward with my little proposition—what?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you please," Rosemary replied coldly. -</p> - -<p> -"The children, as you are pleased to call them," Naniescu went on with -slow deliberation, shedding his affected manner as a useless garment no -longer required to conceal his thoughts, "the children have done us an -infinity of mischief, in the eyes of the British and American public, by -the publication of articles defamatory to our Government; for this they -have deserved punishment. Now, I propose to remit that punishment if you -will undo the mischief that they have done." -</p> - -<p> -"I?" Rosemary exclaimed, puzzled. "How?" -</p> - -<p> -"By publishing newspaper articles that will refute those calumnies once -and for all," the general said blandly. Then, as Rosemary recoiled at -the suggestion as if she had been struck in the face, he went on -cynically: "You are such a brilliant journalist, dear lady, endowed with -a vivid imagination. It will be easy for you to do this for the sake of -those two young traitors in whom you take such a kindly interest. You -may, in your articles, begin by stating the truth, if you like, and say -that my Government invited you to come over to Transylvania in order to -investigate the alleged acts of tyranny that are supposed to be -perpetrated against the minority nationals. Then you will proceed to -state that after impartial and exhaustive inquiry you have come to the -conclusion that practically all the charges brought against us are -unfounded, that with the exception of a few inevitable hardships -consequent on foreign occupation, the minority nationals in Transylvania -are enjoying the utmost freedom and security under the just laws of an -enlightened country. You will——" -</p> - -<p> -But here the flow of the worthy general's eloquence received a sudden -check in the shape of a rippling outburst of laughter from Rosemary. He -frowned, not understanding her mood, his knowledge of women being -superficial, his thoughts flew to hysteria. He had known a woman -once—— -</p> - -<p> -As a matter of fact there was something hysterical about Rosemary's -laughter. She checked it as soon as she regained control over herself. -It was as well that she could laugh, that her sense of humour, never -absent in an Englishwoman of intellect, had at once shown her the folly -of giving way to the indignation which had been her first impulse. -Frankly she could not see herself as an outraged tragedy queen -thundering forth an emphatic "Never!" to the Roumanian's impudent -proposals; and when Naniescu marvelled at the strange moods of women and -vainly tried to guess what there was in the present situation to make -this pretty woman laugh, he little knew that Rosemary was laughing at an -imaginary picture of herself, with head thrown back and flaming eyes, -and gestures that rivalled those of the general himself in their elegant -and expressive sweep. -</p> - -<p> -"You must forgive me, Monsieur le Général," she said presently, "but -your proposition is so funny!" -</p> - -<p> -"Funny, dear lady?" he protested. "Frankly I do not see——" -</p> - -<p> -"No," she broke in, "you would not." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you be so gracious as to explain?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," Rosemary went on lightly, "I don't think I will. You would not -understand—even then." -</p> - -<p> -"Then," he said coolly, "there is nothing left for me to do but to take -my leave, and to deplore that you should have wasted so much of your -valuable time in conversation with a clod." -</p> - -<p> -He rose, and bowing low, he put out his hand in order to take hers, but -Rosemary did not move. -</p> - -<p> -"You cannot go, Monsieur le Général," she said firmly, "without giving -me a definite answer." -</p> - -<p> -"I have given you a definite answer, dear lady. It is my misfortune that -you choose to treat it as ludicrous." -</p> - -<p> -"But surely you were not serious when you suggested——" -</p> - -<p> -"When I suggested that the mischief wrought by two traitors should be -remedied by one who takes an interest in them? What could be more -serious?" -</p> - -<p> -"You seriously think," she insisted, "that I would lend myself to such -traffic? that I would put my name to statements which I could not -verify, or to others that I should actually believe to be false? <i>Ah -çà</i>, Monsieur le Général, where did you get your conception of -English women of letters, or of English journalists?" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu put his finger-tips to his breast, then spread out his hands -with a broad gesture of protest. -</p> - -<p> -"I was wrong," he said suavely, "utterly wrong. I admit it. Forgive me, -and permit me to take my leave——" -</p> - -<p> -"Monsieur le Général———-" -</p> - -<p> -"At your service, dear lady." -</p> - -<p> -"Young Imrey," she pleaded, "and Anna Heves!" He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"I am truly sorry for them," he said unctuously; "but surely you do not -think seriously that I would lend myself to any traffic where the safety -of my country is concerned. <i>Ah çà</i>, dear lady," he went on, not only -mocking the very words she had used, but even the inflexion of her -voice, "where did you get your conception of a Roumanian officer or of a -Roumanian gentleman?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is you who proposed an infamous traffic," she retorted, "not I." -</p> - -<p> -"Pardon me," he protested. "All that I suggested was that the mischief -done should be remedied in the simplest way before those who had wrought -it could hope for pardon. The mischief was done through the public -Press; it can only be made good through the public Press, and only -through the medium of one as influential as yourself. My suggestion has -not met with your approval. Let us say no more about it." -</p> - -<p> -Before she could prevent it he had taken her hand and raised it to his -lips. She snatched it away as if her finger-tips had come in contact -with something noxious; the indignation which she had tried so hard to -keep under control flamed for an instant out of her eyes; and Naniescu, -seeing it, gave a soft, guttural laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"I had a suspicion," he said cynically, "that the situation was not -entirely ludicrous. And now," he went on, "have I your permission to -take my leave?" -</p> - -<p> -He bowed once more, hand on breast, heels clicking, and was on the point -of turning to go when an impulsive cry from Rosemary brought him to a -halt. -</p> - -<p> -"That is not your last word, General Naniescu?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indeed," he replied with utmost gallantry, "but the last word rests -with you, dear lady. I am ever at your service. Only," he continued very -slowly and very deliberately, "let me assure you once and for all that -young Imrey and Anna Heves will appear before the military courts on a -charge of treason unless a series of articles written in the -spirit I have had the honour to outline before you, and bearing -your distinguished name, appear in—shall we say the -<i>Times?</i>—within the next month. But, just to show you how -greatly I value your regard, I will be as lenient as my duty permits. I -will even allow those two young traitors to return, temporarily, to -their homes. Philip Imrey and Anna Heves will be brought here in the -course of a day or two. They will be free, within certain limitations, -to move about among their friends. I need not add, dear lady, that you, -on the other hand, are absolutely free, without any limitations, to come -and go as you choose. On the day that the last of your brilliant -articles will have appeared in the <i>Times</i> Imrey and his cousin -will receive a free pardon from the Government which they have -outraged." -</p> - -<p> -He paused a moment, then raised one hairy, manicured finger and added -with theatrical emphasis: -</p> - -<p> -"But not before." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had listened to his long speech without moving a muscle. She -stood straight as a sapling, looking unflinchingly at the man, striving -to shame him, yet knowing that in this she would not succeed. There was -no room for shame or compunction in that bundle of conceit and -depravity. -</p> - -<p> -Fear, too, appeared to be one of the tortuous motives which had -suggested this ignominious "either-or." How far the Roumanian Government -was a party to the mishandling of Transylvania, Rosemary had not yet had -the opportunity of ascertaining. -</p> - -<p> -She strongly suspected Naniescu of having overstretched his powers, and -of dreading an exposure at Bucharest more, perhaps, than in London or -New York. Now, when he had finished speaking, and while his mellow eyes -still rested with gentle mockery upon her, she could not keep back the -final taunt which she hoped would sting him as much as his had stung -her. -</p> - -<p> -"What proof have I," she queried slowly, "that if I fulfil my share of -the bargain you will not in the end repudiate yours?" -</p> - -<p> -He smiled, quite undisturbed. -</p> - -<p> -"You mistrust me. It is only natural," he said unctuously. "But what can -I do?" -</p> - -<p> -"Write me a letter," she replied coldly, "embodying your terms for the -release of Philip Imrey and Anna Heves, and your promise to keep to the -bargain if I accept those terms." -</p> - -<p> -"Will that satisfy you?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It would hold you to your word, at any rate. For if it did -not——" -</p> - -<p> -He gave his soft, throaty laugh, and a glimmer of satisfaction shot -through his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"You Englishwomen are truly marvellous," he observed. "So business-like. -Everything in black and white—what?" -</p> - -<p> -"Preferably," she rejoined drily. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, you shall have the letter, dear lady," he concluded -blandly. "And I promise you that I shall so tie myself down to my share -of this interesting transaction that you will not hesitate any longer to -fulfil yours." -</p> - -<p> -And the next moment, even while Rosemary turned towards the window in -order to look for one brief moment, at any rate, on something clean and -pure, Naniescu had gone, softly closing the door behind him and leaving -in his wake a faint odour of Havana cigar and eau de Cologne, and an -atmosphere of intrigue which Rosemary felt to be stifling. She threw -open the window and inhaled the clean air right down into her lungs. Her -thoughts were still in a whirl. The situation was so impossible that her -brain at present rejected it. It could not be. Things like this did not -occur. It was not modern. Not twentieth century. Not post-war. Civilised -men and women did not have interviews such as she had just had with this -smooth-tongued Roumanian. There was something mediæval about this -"either-or," this impasse to which in very truth there was no issue. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary now started pacing up and down the room. She was alone and -could indulge in this time-tried method of soothing jangled nerves. With -both forefingers she tapped her temples, as if to stimulate the work of -a jaded brain. Issue? There must be an issue to this impasse. She was a -British subject, the wife of an English peer. She could not be bullied -into doing things against which her sense of honour rebelled. She could -not be made to lend her name to falsehoods, knowing them to be -falsehoods. Of course not. Of course not. She could not be compelled to -write a single line she would not wish to see published. -</p> - -<p> -She could not be compelled. That was a fact. An undisputable, hard, -solid fact. What then? Well, then there were Philip and Anna, who would -be brought before the military courts on a charge of treason. And the -military courts would condemn them—to what? To death? No! No! No! Not -to death! Philip and little Anna: children whom she knew and loved! -Condemned to death! Shot! like Edith Cavell, or Captain Fryatt! Shot! -But that was in war time! Now the world was at peace! The Treaty of -Versailles was the millennium that would bring peace on earth, goodwill -toward men! Peace! This was peace! Foolish, thoughtless children could -not in peace time be shot as traitors! -</p> - -<p> -Tap-tap went Rosemary's fingers against her temples. Peace, ye gods! -Philip and Anna had rendered themselves liable to human justice, and -human justice in this half-forgotten corner of God's earth knew but one -law—revenge! Philip and Anna would be condemned—and shot, -unless she, Rosemary Tarkington, gained a free pardon for them at the price -of truth, honour and the welfare, perhaps, of thousands of innocents. -</p> - -<p> -And as gradually this awful alternative penetrated into the innermost -recesses of her brain, the girl looked wildly about her like an animal -suddenly fallen into a trap. Her knees all at once gave way under her, -and she fell up against the sofa, with arms outspread upon the cushions. -With head thrown back, she gazed unseeing up at the ceiling, and this -time it was a real hysterical outburst that caused her to laugh and to -laugh, until laughter broke into a sob, and burying her face in her -hands she burst into a flood of tears. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary, being very human and very young, felt all the better after she -had had a good cry. Better mentally, that is to say. Physically she was -tired, hot, overstrained; her eyes ached, her limbs ached, her head -ached, but mentally she felt better. -</p> - -<p> -Presently she struggled back to her feet, dabbed her eyes with cold -water, put powder on her nose and a comb through her hair. She did not -want to look a sight when presently Jasper came back from his walk; and -she told him all that had happened. -</p> - -<p> -By the way, where was Jasper? -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary was just aching to review the whole situation with him. No need -now for secrecy with regard to Philip and little Anna's foolish -conspiracy. Soon the whole world would know of it, friend and foe alike. -And Jasper would be able to help, of course, or at any rate to advise. -He had done so much for the Roumanian Government in the past, there was -just a chance they might do something at his request—out of -gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -Gratitude? Rosemary smiled ironically to herself at thought of -connecting so gentle an emotion with men like Naniescu. Still, Jasper -might think of something, of some way out of the situation, which -Rosemary still persisted in thinking unreal. It was, of course, the -climax of a plan formed as far back as the Five Arts' Ball at the Albert -Hall, when Naniescu first proposed to her that she should come to -Transylvania. To get her here, then to close on Philip and Anna a trap -which had no doubt long ago been set, and finally to use them as a lever -in order to force her, Rosemary, to write those articles which would -soothe the vanity of Roumanian bureaucrats and throw dust in the eyes of -the sentimental public. -</p> - -<p> -As if in response to Rosemary's wish for his presence, Jasper presently -walked in, courteous, chivalrous, full of apologies for having left her -to face Naniescu alone. -</p> - -<p> -"I must have been dreaming," he said contritely, "while I wandered out -of the park, for, all of a sudden, I found myself away upon the -mountain-side, thinking of you. Your dear face peeped at me through the -trees and then I realized that I was leaving you in the lurch, and that -you might be wanting me—and I not there! Can you, I wonder, forgive -me?" -</p> - -<p> -He sat down beside her on the sofa and took her hand, and one by one he -kissed each rosy finger-tip. -</p> - -<p> -"Wherever I am, little one," he said softly, "I always see you. Your -presence beside me this morning was so real that I was never wholly -conscious that you were not actually there. Will you forgive me?" he -asked again. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary turned to him with a smile. There was no one in the world quite -so kind as Jasper; his kind, grave eyes were fixed on her with such a -look of adoration that instinctively Rosemary nestled closer to him like -a trusting child, and on an impulse she told him everything: the arrest -of Philip Imrey and of little Anna, and Naniescu's infamous proposal. -</p> - -<p> -But Jasper didn't say much. He did not even seem very attentive; while -she spoke of little Anna, of Philip and of Naniescu, his mind appeared -to wander, as if he were thinking of something else, and Rosemary -hearkened in vain for a word of indignation from him when she told him -about Naniescu's abominable "either-or." Yet she studied his face very -closely, those fine aristocratic features with their somewhat affected -wearied expression, and the dark eyes set closely together like those of -an eagle or a hawk. He said nothing. He only looked as if he were -thinking hard. Pondering over something that puzzled and worried him. -Rosemary wondered what it was. And later on, when she pressed him with -questions, he seemed to drag himself back to the present situation with -a great effort of nerve and will, and even then he did not appear to -have a firm grasp of it. He put irrelevant counter-questions, and once -or twice answered at random. His chief concern seemed to be that she, -Rosemary, knowing the foolish game Philip and Anna were playing, had not -succeeded in putting a stop to it. -</p> - -<p> -"The girl appeared sensible enough," he said almost irritably. "I -believe she would have listened to you. That sort of thing is just -romantic nonsense. It never does any good, and more often than not it -brings trouble on the innocent rather than on the guilty. The same thing -applies to the Germans, the Austrians and to the Hungarians. They have -been beaten and they have got to take their punishment. All these -political intrigues are just folly!" -</p> - -<p> -Of course Jasper was right. Of course he was sensible, and just and -clear-thinking. But while Rosemary paid ungrudging tribute to his -judgment, she felt more and more chilled by his total lack not only of -sympathy, but even of attention, as if the matter of Philip and Anna's -life and liberty hardly interested him. Now Rosemary hardly liked to ask -him for advice, for fear he might tell her to assent to Naniescu's -wish—and to write those articles against which her sense of right and -wrong, of truth and professional honour rebelled. -</p> - -<p> -She could almost hear Jasper saying: -</p> - -<p> -"You can get quite near the truth in your articles and satisfy Naniescu -and you will save those two hotheads from the consequences of their own -indiscretion. Believe me you would be doing far more good that way to -this miserable country than Philip ever did with his ill-considered -articles." -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps Jasper had actually said all this. Rosemary could not be sure. -For the last few minutes her mind had been absent from her body. It had -flown over mountains and seas, right across the great plains of Hungary -and the fields of waving corn, to a small, dark corner in the crowded -Albert Hall, with noisy jazz music buzzing in the distance like phantom -melodies, with laughter and chatter all around, glittering jewels, -fantastic clothes and waving fans; and here Rosemary's mind came to a -halt and insistently beckoned to memory. She recalled every moment of -that night, every incident stood oat like a picture before her now: the -dance with Peter, and then the box with the heavy curtains that shut her -right out of the world—alone with Peter. She recalled every line of -his face, those fine white hands made to meld brush or pen rather than a -cricket-ball, the fair, curly head, the tense dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -What sympathy she would have got from Peter if only he were here! His -judgment, perhaps, would not have been so sound as Jasper's: Rosemary -would not feel that she could rely on Peter to say or do only what was -right, what was just and reasonable. He would be guided by his heart and -not by his head; he would be wrong, no doubt—utterly wrong—in -his judgments, in his advice. But oh! he would be so human, so full of -pity, so understanding! And for the first time since her marriage to -Jasper, Rosemary allowed herself to think of Peter, to long for Peter, to -mourn that which Peter had meant in her life: youth, humanity and -enthusiasm. -</p> - -<p> -And suddenly she was brought back to Kis-Imre and to the reality of the -present situation by a direct question put to her by Jasper: -</p> - -<p> -"Why didn't you tell me, dear, that Peter Blakeney was in Transylvania?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had put the question quite gently and kindly. He never put on -with Rosemary any airs of marital authority, nor was there even a hint -of reproach in his tone. But the question did bring Rosemary's mind back -in a second from the Albert Hall to Kis-Imre. She frowned, very much -puzzled, and turned to look straight at Jasper. He, too, appeared to -have come back to Kis-Imre from the land of nowhere. He still had on a -puzzled and pondering expression, but with it a certain look of -hardness, which he seldom had when his wife was nigh. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter Blakeney?" Rosemary asked slowly. "What in the world do you -mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't look so scared, little one," Jasper rejoined, his stern face -breaking into a smile. "As a matter of fact the whole thing has puzzled -me to such an extent that I am afraid I must have appeared very -unresponsive just now——" He paused, and, leaning forward, he -rested his elbows on his knees, and instead of looking at his wife, he -gazed intently down on his hands, as if he wished to avoid making her feel -uncomfortable by staring directly at her. -</p> - -<p> -"A moment ago," he resumed presently, "as I was crossing the hall, -General Naniescu came out of the smoking-room into the outer vestibule. -He did not see me, and I was just debating in my mind whether I would -speak to him when he turned to a young officer who was evidently in -attendance, and what he said to him was this: 'Ring up Mr. Blakeney at -once and tell him I will see him about the business at five o'clock this -afternoon; you may tell him that on the whole I think I have been -successful.'" -</p> - -<p> -"Impossible!" Rosemary exclaimed impulsively. -</p> - -<p> -"So I thought at the time," Jasper rejoined. "Therefore I recrossed the -hall and spoke a few words to Naniescu. He appeared vexed when he saw -me, and I distinctly saw him make a sign to the officer, who did not -then go to the telephone, although a moment ago Naniescu had ordered him -to ring up at once. I kept the general talking for a few minutes in the -hall. He did not refer to his conversation with you, nor did he refer in -any way to Peter." -</p> - -<p> -"You must have misunderstood the name," Rosemary insisted. -</p> - -<p> -"I thought so at first, but I had confirmation of it later on. Naniescu -very obviously and very clumsily manœuvred me toward the dining-room, -the doors of which were wide open. As soon as he had got me into the -room he closed the doors. Now, I happen to have very sharp ears, and -although Naniescu talked to me at the top of his voice I distinctly -heard what was going on in the hall. The officer called up the Hôtel -New York at Cluj, after which there was a pause. I tried to take my -leave of the general, for I wanted to come up to you, but he would not -let me go. He talked incessantly and always at the top of his voice on -all sorts of irrelevant topics. He dragged me to the window at the -farther end of the room to show me the view. He tried to persuade me to -go out with him for a turn in the park. Finally fortune favoured me; my -sharp ears caught the ring of the telephone bell. I gave Naniescu the -slip and just had the door open when I heard the officer say quite -distinctly in French: -</p> - -<p> -"'Is that you, Mr. Blakeney? Mr. Blakeney, his Excellency will see -you——' At this point," Jasper went on, "Naniescu with a loud -guffaw took hold of my arm and made some facetious remark which I did not -catch. However, he had made it so obvious that he did not wish me to -hear the telephone message, and, on the other hand, I had heard the -officer name Peter so distinctly that I allowed myself to be dragged -back into the room, and made no further attempt to pry into -Naniescu's—or Peter's—secrets." -</p> - -<p> -"But this is all nonsense," Rosemary broke in warmly. "Peter is not in -Transylvania. I am sure he is not. He would have told me. He would have -let me know. It is some other Blakeney whom Naniescu was calling up." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper shrugged. "Perhaps," he said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure," Rosemary insisted. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper said nothing more after that, and Rosemary was conscious of a -feeling of irritation against him, because he was so obviously convinced -that Peter was in Transylvania and in secret communication with that -odious Naniescu. How could he imagine such a thing? Peter! Peter with -the lovely Hungarian mother! Peter? Nonsense! But Rosemary could not sit -still. She jumped to her feet and began fidgeting about the room, -arranging her dress, her hair, fidgeting, fidgeting. She would not look -at Jasper, and she was determined not to say anything more. He would -discover his mistake soon enough, and if she said anything now she might -use words, phrases, expressions which later on she would regret. -</p> - -<p> -Peter intriguing with a Roumanian! Nonsense! And yet her nerves were -terribly on edge, more so now than they were after her interview with -Naniescu. And she could not bear to look at Jasper. She was afraid that -she would hate him for his thoughts about Peter. Fortunately after a -little while the luncheon-bell sounded. Jasper jumped to his feet. He -too seemed relieved that the subject of Peter could now be conveniently -dropped. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you see Elza?" he said abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -"Elza?" Rosemary asked. "Why?" -</p> - -<p> -"Naniescu and his suite are in the house," Jasper replied dryly. "They -will stay to lunch. I don't know what Elza will feel about it." -</p> - -<p> -"She will feel as I do," Rosemary retorted hotly, "that the man's -presence at her table is an outrage." -</p> - -<p> -"But he told me that Philip and Anna will be allowed to come home." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. Provisionally. Until I——" -</p> - -<p> -"Elza need not know about that," Jasper broke in hurriedly. "That is why -I thought you would see her. She need not know that Philip's release is -only—conditional——" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary thought the matter over for a moment. As always, Jasper was -right. Elza need not know. Not yet. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall I go to her now," she said, "and tell her?" -</p> - -<p> -"I think it would come best from you. It will be such good news for her, -poor thing." -</p> - -<p> -"Poor darling!" Rosemary sighed; then she added more coldly: "But what -about me?" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"Am I expected to sit at table with that mealy-mouthed Roumanian?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper smiled. "How else would you explain the situation to Elza?" he -asked. -</p> - -<p> -All this had brought about a fresh train of thought, and Rosemary was -quite thankful that Jasper was showing such sympathy for Elza. He was -quite right. Elza need not be told that the release of Philip and Anna -was only conditional. There was a month still ahead before Elza need be -told the truth. -</p> - -<p> -"Will you keep Naniescu talking," Rosemary said finally, "while I see -Elza?" -</p> - -<p> -She looked quite cool and self-possessed now, beautifully dressed, one -row of perfect pearls round her neck, circles of diamonds in her ears, a -great lady conscious of her own beauty. "How wonderful you are!" came as -an involuntary exclamation from her husband's lips, and his dark, -deep-set eyes lit up with a sudden flash of passionate admiration as -they rested on the vision of loveliness before him. -</p> - -<p> -Then together they went out of the room, Rosemary just a step or two in -front of her husband. She still could not bear to look at him, and when -she caught his look of bold admiration she coldly turned her head away. -Obedient to her wish, he went downstairs to keep Naniescu talking, while -she went to break the good news to Elza. But walking along the stately -gallery that led to her hostess's rooms, Rosemary's thoughts were not -with Elza, her lips were murmuring almost audibly: -</p> - -<p> -Peter intriguing with a Roumanian? -</p> - -<p> -What nonsense! -</p> - -<p> -Jasper must be mad! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV</a></h4> - -<p> -The moment that Rosemary came into the room she guessed that Elza -somehow or other had heard the news. She had tears in her big, kind -eyes, but they were tears of emotion, not of sorrow or anxiety. -</p> - -<p> -"Philip is coming home with Anna!" she cried as soon as she caught sight -of Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you?" Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -"General Naniescu sent his captain to tell me. I only knew it five -minutes ago. But oh, my dear, they have been <i>such</i> five minutes!" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary kissed her with tender affection. She did not feel somehow as -if she could say much. -</p> - -<p> -"Isn't it wonderful?" Elza went on while she put a few finishing touches -to her toilet. "And has not Naniescu been kind? Of course I knew that -they could not do anything to Philip because he has done nothing, and I -don't believe that Anna did anything either. But you know, my dear, -these days some awful mistakes do occur. But," she added lightly, "I -have so often experienced it in life that men are not nearly so cruel as -they are credited to be. One is so apt to pass judgment on insufficient -evidence. Give a man the chance of doing a kind act, that is my motto, -and he will nearly always do it." -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately that Elza was rather fussy for the moment, fidgeting about -the room and obviously trying to calm her nerves, so she did not notice -Rosemary's silent, unresponsive way. -</p> - -<p> -"When do you expect Philip and Anna?" Rosemary said at last. -</p> - -<p> -"This afternoon," Elza exclaimed, and her words rang out like a little -cry of joy. "And you know Maurus is so happy that he has actually gone -down in order to say something civil to Naniescu, who, of course, is -staying for lunch. Well," she added after a moment or two, when she had -gathered up her keys, her rings, her handkerchief, and given a final tap -to her hair, "shall we go down too?" -</p> - -<p> -Without a word Rosemary followed her. She felt as if she must choke. -Elza's happiness was going to be the most severe trial of all during -this terrible month that lay ahead of her. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, and I was almost forgetting," Elza resumed, while she tripped -lightly along the gallery towards the stairs, "the smaller joy beside -the greater—the greatest one! I have heard from Peter Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"From Peter?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. He is at Cluj, at the New York. He is over here about some -arrangement he wants to make for a cricket match or something silly of -that sort—you know what Peter is: quite mad about that silly cricket. -I had a letter from him this morning, but when it came I had no thought -for anything except Philip. I must let you read it presently. I don't -really know what he says, but if he is at Cluj we are sure to see him -very soon." -</p> - -<p> -She prattled on as merry as a bird. She seemed twenty years younger all -of a sudden—her step was light and springy, her eyes were bright, her -voice was fresh and clear. Rosemary kept on repeating to herself: -</p> - -<p> -"She need not know for at least three weeks. She need not know, and I -must pretend—pretend—at any cost. She will know soon enough, -poor darling." -</p> - -<p> -And Rosemary did manage to pretend; for the next three hours she was -just an automaton, wound up to play a certain part. To everyone she had -to pretend—to Elza, to Maurus, to that odious Naniescu, and even to -Jasper. The worst of all was pretending to Jasper, for from this she got -no reprieve. Jasper's kind, anxious eyes were on her all the time, and -she would not let him see that she was anxious about Peter. Somehow the -episode about Peter had made everything so much worse. Not that she -harboured the thought for a moment that Peter was intriguing with -Naniescu. That, of course, was out of the question. He had come to -arrange something about a cricket match, and, of course, he had to see -Naniescu about it, get his permission, and so on. There were ten chances -to one that Peter had written to her and told her all about it, and that -his letter had gone astray. No, no, no! There could be no thought of an -intrigue between Peter and these Roumanians; but Rosemary felt that -Jasper thought there was, and was vaguely pitying her because of some -unknown treachery on Peter's part. It was odious! -</p> - -<p> -And with it all Elza's obvious happiness was almost intolerable to -witness, and even Maurus departed from his habitual ill-temper to -exchange facetious remarks with Naniescu. Time seemed leaden-footed. The -interminable luncheon dragged on wearily, as did the hour of coffee and -liqueurs, of endless small talk and constant pretence. But even the -worst moments in life must become things of the past sooner or later, -and when Rosemary began to feel that she could not stand the whole thing -any longer, she found that Naniescu and his officers were actually -taking their leave. -</p> - -<p> -After luncheon Jasper was quite charming. He had thought the whole -matter over, he said, and decided that it was in his power to make a -personal appeal to the King in favour of Philip and Anna. He had -certainly rendered more than one signal service to Roumania during and -after the war, and he thought that in these countries personal influence -counted a great deal. At any rate, there would be no harm in trying, and -he would start for Bucharest immediately. He had spoken about the -proposed journey to Elza and Maurus, alleging official business, and -Elza had already arranged that he should be driven into Cluj in time for -the afternoon express. Rosemary's heart was at once filled with -gratitude; she felt angry with herself for having mistrusted him. She -threw herself whole-heartedly into the preparations for his journey, -lulling her troubled soul with the belief that it would prove to be the -happy issue out of this terrible situation. When it was time for him to -go she wished him God-speed with more fervour and affection than she had -shown him for days. -</p> - -<p> -"Bar accidents," he assured her, "I shall be back in a fortnight. If I -have definite good news to report I will wire. But even if you don't -hear from me, I shall be back, as I say, in fifteen days." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall count the hours until your return," she said. -</p> - -<p> -"And in the meanwhile," he urged with deep earnestness, "you will do -nothing without consulting me." -</p> - -<p> -She smiled at this want of logic, so unlike her methodical husband. -</p> - -<p> -"I could not consult you, dear," she said. "You won't be here." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, I know," he insisted; "but I want you to promise that you will -leave things as they are until my return. I don't want you to give -anything away to Elza, or to Philip or Anna. Promise me." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I'll promise," she replied readily. "God knows I don't want -to be the one to break the awful news to them." -</p> - -<p> -"Or to Peter," he added gravely. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter?" -</p> - -<p> -"I want you to promise me—to promise, Rosemary, that you will not -speak of this miserable affair to Peter Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as she seemed to hesitate, vaguely puzzled at his desperate -earnestness, he again insisted: -</p> - -<p> -"Promise me, Rosemary, whatever you may hear, whatever you may see, -whatever may be planned by Elza or anybody else, promise me that you -will not speak of it to Peter." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Jasper," she exclaimed, "why? Of course I will promise, if you -wish it, but frankly I don't understand why you insist, so solemnly -too," she added, trying to assume a lightness of heart which she was far -from feeling. Then she went on more gravely: "I could trust Peter as I -would myself." -</p> - -<p> -"You can put it down to nerves," Jasper said, with the ghost of a smile, -"to intuition or foreboding, or merely to jealousy and my wretched -character, to anything you please, my dear one. But promise me! Promise -me that everything in connexion with this miserable affair will remain -just between you and me. Let the others talk, guess, plan. Promise me -that you will never speak of it with Peter. Promise me, or I will throw -up the sponge, remain here to look after you, and let Naniescu do his -worst with the lot of them." -</p> - -<p> -Thus, alternately demanding, entreating, threatening, he extracted the -promise from her, even though her heart cried out against what she felt -was treachery to Peter. Jasper's insistence filled her with a vague -sense of foreboding not unmixed with fear; and yet, the very next -moment, as soon as he had her promise, he became tender, soft, loving, -as if trying to make her forget his solemn earnestness of a while ago. -He took her in his arms and gazed into her eyes with an intensity of -longing which made her own heart ache with self-reproach. -</p> - -<p> -"If God there be," he whispered softly, as if to himself, "it was cruel -of Him to make you so beautiful—and so desirable." -</p> - -<p> -Again his mood had changed. Tenderness had turned into passion, fierce, -almost primeval, and he held her now more like a man defending the -greatest treasure he possessed on God's earth than like a husband taking -affectionate leave of his wife. -</p> - -<p> -"If I should lose you, Rosemary," he murmured, "because of this." -</p> - -<p> -She tried to laugh and to speak flippantly. "Lose me?" she said. "You -have little chance of doing that, my dear, for this or any other cause. -Naniescu has not the power of life and death over me," she added more -seriously. -</p> - -<p> -There was something about Jasper at this moment that she could not -entirely fathom. Twice before she had seen him in these moods of violent -passion akin almost to savagery, when she felt utterly helpless and -absolutely in his power. She had the feeling that when he was in one of -these moods he was capable of any violence against her if she dared to -disobey or resist. Not that Rosemary was afraid; she had never in her -life been afraid of anyone; but she had always been mistress of herself, -and at this moment, held tightly by the man to whom she had sworn love -and fealty, she felt like a slave of olden times in the grip of her -lord. -</p> - -<p> -"You—you will care for me some day, Rosemary?" he asked with -passionate earnestness. "Say that you will some day, when all -this—all this is forgotten, and we are back again in England, free -to live our own lives, free to love. You will care for me then, -Rosemary, will you not? For I could not live beside you for long, -feeling all the time that you did not belong to me with your whole soul. -You have such haunting eyes—eyes such as pixies and fairies -have—maddening eyes. I should go crazy presently if I failed to -kindle the love-light in those eyes." -</p> - -<p> -He kissed her eyes, her mouth, her throat. Rosemary would have -struggled, would have screamed if she dared. Fortunately a knock at the -door and the entrance of one of the menservants, who came to fetch -milord's luggage, put an end to a situation which Rosemary found very -difficult to endure. After the man had gone the spell appeared to be -broken. Jasper became once more the courteous, grave man of the world he -had always been. The episode of a moment ago did not seem to have -occurred at all, as far as he was concerned, and while Rosemary felt her -teeth chattering and the palms of her hands were covered with a cold -sweat, Jasper moved about the room and spoke to her about his proposed -journey, his certain return in a fortnight, as if nothing had happened. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI</a></h4> - -<p> -The carriage which took Jasper to Cluj brought back Philip and Anna. -After that the house was full of animation, like a beehive in May. -Rosemary only saw the two young people for a moment. She felt a stranger -in this family gathering, and her heart was so heavy that she soon found -a pretext for going up to her room. Later on she pleaded a headache. -Kind and hospitable as were these dear people, Rosemary felt that they -must wish to be alone amongst themselves after the terrible time they -had all gone through. They would have so much to talk over that the -presence of a stranger, even so welcome an one as Rosemary Tarkington, -must of necessity be irksome. It was clear to her from the first that -Philip and Anna knew little, if anything, of the conditions attached to -their release. Philip talked lightly of their being under surveillance -for a time, and then added quite gaily that he would gladly lead the -life of a hermit in Kis-Imre and never go outside the gates until the -present clouds blew over. He gave himself wholly up to the joy of -watching his mother's happiness and seeing her dear eyes beaming on her -returned boy. Altogether he was more like a schoolboy who by a fluke has -escaped punishment than a man conscious of a deadly peril that had not -ceased to threaten him. -</p> - -<p> -They all sat up talking late into the evening, and when Rosemary found -herself at last alone in her room, trying to think things out before she -went to bed, little Anna came up to her. The child looked hollow-eyed -and grave; the joy that had been on her face when she first found -herself in this second home of hers had all gone. She looked old, wan -and tired out. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary put out her arms, and Anna ran up to her and snuggled up close -to her, just like a child. For a long time she was quite silent, with -her head against her friend's shoulder, her little, thin hands held in -Rosemary's kind, firm grasp. Now and again a hot tear would fall on -Rosemary's hands. Anna, was crying quietly to herself, and Rosemary -waited until the girl was calm enough to speak. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't understand the whole thing, Rosemary," were the first words -that Anna spoke. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it you don't understand, dear?" Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not like them to be lenient, is it?" the girl retorted, looking -up with quick, eager inquiry into her friend's face. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, in this case," Rosemary rejoined vaguely, "you are both so young!" -</p> - -<p> -Anna shook her head vigorously. -</p> - -<p> -"That wouldn't worry them," she said, "after all the trouble they must -have taken to track us down." -</p> - -<p> -"You were caught in the act, I suppose?" Rosemary queried. -</p> - -<p> -Anna nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said. "And that was strange too. I had all my parcels -ready—the usual ones for Budapest, and Philip's manuscript at the -bottom of a box of vegetable seeds. Half a dozen soldiers and an officer -came into the shop and walked straight up to the place where the parcels -were stacked. They seemed to know all about everything, for the officer -just ordered his men to undo all the parcels, and, of course, there was -Philip's manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"There's nothing strange in all that, Anna," Rosemary said. "I have no -doubt in my mind that you both have been watched for some time by secret -service men, and at last they closed their trap on you." -</p> - -<p> -But once more Anna shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't explain what I mean," she said, and puckered her fine straight -brows together. "It is a kind of intuition that came to me when I saw -those soldiers walk in. I am absolutely convinced that we were not -denounced by regular Government spies. They are too clumsy, and we were -too careful. I am certain," she reiterated obstinately, "that we were -not denounced by one of them." -</p> - -<p> -"By whom, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, that I don't know. It is an awful feeling I have. You know I never -believed in all that so-called psychic nonsense which is so fashionable -just now, but the feeling I have is not just an ordinary one. It is so -strong that I cannot fight against it. It is a feeling that -eyes—eyes—are always watching me and Philip—cruel -eyes—eyes that wish us evil—that <i>will</i> us to do -something foolish, unconsidered, something that will get us again into -trouble, and for good this time." -</p> - -<p> -"You are overwrought, Anna dear," Rosemary put in gently. "And no -wonder! Of course, we all know that there are Government spies all over -the place, and you and Philip will have to be doubly careful in the -future; but here in Kis-Imre you are among friends. Your Aunt Elza's -servants are all of them Hungarian and thoroughly to be trusted." -</p> - -<p> -Anna said nothing. She was staring straight out in front of her, as if -trying to meet those mysterious eyes which were for ever watching her. -An involuntary cry of horror rose to Rosemary's lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Anna!" she exclaimed, "you don't think that I——" -</p> - -<p> -But before she could complete her sentence Anna's arms were round her. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course not. Of course not," the girl murmured tenderly. "Rosemary -darling, of course not!" -</p> - -<p> -"I never spoke about your affairs to a single soul, Anna," Rosemary said -gravely. "I give you my solemn word of honour that I never even -mentioned the thing to my husband until after your arrest, when, of -course, all the facts became public property." -</p> - -<p> -"I know, Rosemary, I know," Anna repeated. "I would trust you with every -secret. I would trust you with my life—with Philip's life." -</p> - -<p> -"And you did not trust anyone else?" Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I never breathed a word about it to a living soul, except to you and -Peter Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"Peter knew?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Peter knew." -</p> - -<p> -"You wrote to him?" Rosemary insisted. "Ah, then I understand. Your -letters were held up by the censor, and——" -</p> - -<p> -"No, I never wrote to Peter what Philip and I were doing; but you know -he arrived in Cluj the day before I was arrested. He came to arrange -some cricket match or other between Roumanians and Hungarians. I don't -know anything about cricket, but, of course, Peter was full of it. He -came to see me at my lodgings, quite unexpectedly. I was so surprised to -see him, and so happy, as I am very, very fond of Peter. We talked till -late into the evening, and somehow I had to tell him everything. But -except for that one talk with Peter, and the one I had with you, I never -breathed a word about what Philip and I were doing, not to a living -soul!" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary said nothing for the moment. Indeed, there was nothing much -that she could say. Little Anna had got hold of the idea that some -mysterious agency had been at work and brought about her and Philip's -arrest. But, after all, what did it matter? Professional spies or -insidious traitor? What difference did it make in the end? Anna was -frightened because she feared a fresh denunciation. She did not know -that her poor little life was already forfeit, that she was just a mouse -whom the cat had allowed to run free for a moment or two, and that she -would be pounced upon again unless her friend Rosemary, whom she trusted -with her whole soul, bought freedom and life for her. -</p> - -<p> -But it was not thoughts of Anna that sealed Rosemary's lips at this -moment and left her mute, motionless, like an insentient log, with -Anna's cold little hand held tightly in her own. Anna had not spoken of -her activities or her plans to anyone except to Peter. And Jasper had -extracted a promise from her, Rosemary, that she would not speak of -Philip's or Anna's affairs to Peter. What connexion was there between -Jasper's insistence and that other awful thought which, strive as she -might, would haunt Rosemary's brain like a hideous ghoul risen out of -hell? What mystery lurked in the denunciation of these children, in -their release, in the alternative which Naniescu had placed before her? -What hidden powers were at work, threatening her with shame and the -children with death? -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt stifled. Rising abruptly, she went to the window and -stepped out on the balcony. The moon was up, a honey-coloured, waning -moon that threw its cool, mysterious light on park land and lake and the -distant pine forest beyond. Immediately below the balcony a bed of -tuberoses, with wax-like corollas that shimmered white and spectral, -sent their intoxicating odour through the balmy air. And against the -background of dense shrubberies a couple of fireflies gleamed and darted -aimlessly, ceaselessly, in and out of the shadows. Rosemary, seeing -them, was reminded of what Anna had said just now—that eyes were for -ever looking at her, cruel eyes, eyes that were on the watch, spying, -spying. -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly she clapped her hand to her mouth, smothering a sharp cry that -had risen to her throat; and instinctively she stepped back into the -room and hastily closed the window. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Rosemary darling?" Anna asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing, dearie, nothing," Rosemary replied quickly. "The smell of -those tuberoses made me feel queer. That's all." -</p> - -<p> -She could not tell Anna that while she watched the fireflies, and the -air was so still, so still that not a blade of grass shivered, and even -the leaves of the aspen were at rest, she had perceived a tremor amongst -the laurel bushes and seen some of the tall branches held back by a -hand, each finger of which was outlined by the silvery light of the -moon. And above the hand she had sensed a pair of eyes that were looking -up at her. -</p> - -<p> -She tried to talk lightly with Anna, to infuse into her some of the -buoyancy of mind which she was far from feeling herself. She was sure -that Anna had a vague consciousness of the danger that hung over her and -those she cared for; the only thing she could not know was that her fate -and theirs lay in the hands of the friend whom she trusted. How would -she—how would they all—bear the knowledge when it came to them, -as come it must? How would she, Rosemary, face the reproach which, even if -unspoken by them, would haunt her to the end of her life: "You might -have saved us, if you would." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII</a></h4> - -<p> -And it was that spectre which from that hour haunted Rosemary; it would -not allow her to rest at night; it dogged her steps by day. When she -walked in the park and the soft summer breeze stirred the branches of -Lombardy poplars or the stately plumes of maize, ghostly voices would -seem to be whispering all around her: "Life and liberty for Philip and -Anna! Life and liberty for those two children who love and trust you, -who know nothing of the fate that hangs over them!" And when she was in -the house at meals or in the family circle, with Elza radiating -happiness and even Maurus unbending, with Philip almost feverishly gay -and Anna thoughtful, the eyes of all these kind, dear people whom she -loved seemed full of reproach to the one woman who could save them—if -she would. -</p> - -<p> -Then Rosemary, unable to pretend any longer, would run up to her room; -and she—one of the most sane, most level-headed women in this -neurotic age—would throw herself on her knees and pray to be taken -out of it all. Oh! to be out of it—underground—anywhere! -Just to be out of it, not to see those smiles, that happiness, that -contentment which she knew must presently end in a devastating -catastrophe. To be out of it when the time came—in a few -weeks—days—hours! -</p> - -<p> -Hour followed hour, doll and leaden-footed. And they were all so happy -at Kis-Imre! Suspecting nothing! Knowing nothing, whilst Rosemary felt -her self-control slipping away from her day by day. At times she felt as -if she could not endure the situation any longer, as if she most tell -one of them. Tell Elza, or Maurus, or the children! Surely they should -know! There comes a time when a doctor, knowing that his patient cannot -recover, is bound in all humanity to tell him. Then surely it was -Rosemary's duty to say to them all: "You don't know! You have not -guessed! But you are doomed. Doomed! Philip and Anna to death! You Elza -and Maurus to worse than death—limitless sorrow. Now you are just -living on a volcano. In another few days—twenty, nineteen, -eighteen—the flames will break through, the earth will totter under -your feet, and everything you care for in the world will be engulfed. -You will perish. Yes, you! All of you! And then you will know about me! -How I might have saved you and did not. And you will hate me as no woman -has ever been hated before. And I shall go forth into the vast -wilderness which is called the world. And I, too, shall perish of sorrow -and endless regret!" -</p> - -<p> -She had not again seen those mysterious eyes which that evening, while -little Anna was talking, had peered at her from behind the laurel -bushes; and she was far too sensible to dwell on what might only, after -all, have been the creation of overwrought nerves. -</p> - -<p> -The time was drawing near for Jasper's return. "Fifteen days," he had -said; and she knew that, bar accidents, he would keep his word. But she -had no news of him, and after the first week she ceased to expect any. -She would not own, even to herself, that she had already ceased to build -hopes in that direction. Jasper had promised to wire as soon as he heard -anything definite, so in this case no news was bad news. Dear kind -Jasper! he knew how miserably anxious she was! He would not keep good -news from her—not one hour. -</p> - -<p> -It was on the tenth day that Peter arrived at the castle. He had -announced his coming twenty-four hours previously, and in a moment there -was excitement from attic to cellar in the house. Everybody seemed to be -arranging something. Planning something. Tennis excursions, dancing! -Peter was such a good dancer! They would have the gipsies over from -Bonczhida. That was the finest band in the whole of Transylvania; and -they would ask the Keletys over from Hajdu and the Fejérs from Henger, -and perhaps Aunt Charlotte could be persuaded to come and bring Marie. -There was some talk of private theatricals, of tableaux, a tennis -tournament, perhaps a cricket match, English fashion. Peter was so -clever at all that sort of thing! Rosemary was consulted about the -cricket match and the tournament, for these were to be done on English -lines! But the dancing and the acting and the picnics, these were to be -truly and entirely Hungarian—pre-war Hungarian, the gayest, merriest -things darling Rosemary had ever seen. -</p> - -<p> -How much she had looked forward to Peter's coming, Rosemary did not know -until after she had seen him. What hopes she had built on his mere -presence, on his nearness, she did not own to herself until afterwards. -He had not been in the house many hours before she realised that he had -changed. Not changed for the worse, of course not—but changed. -</p> - -<p> -He seemed younger, more boyish—more English in many ways. At one -time the Hungarian strain had been very conspicuous in Peter—his -tempestuous love-making, his alternating moods of fatalism and rebellion -had always reminded Rosemary of those barbaric chieftains—his -forebears about whom she loved to read—who had been up and fought -the Turks, while the rest of Europe only trembled at thought of their -approach. -</p> - -<p> -But now Peter was much more like the conventional young English athlete: -not very loquacious, very placid, ashamed of showing emotion or -excitement, standing about for the most part with his hands in his -trousers pockets, contemplating the toes of his boots, and smoking -innumerable cigarettes. He had not seemed like this at first. He arrived -in the late afternoon, and Rosemary was downstairs in the paved -courtyard when the carriage drove in through the gates, with its four -spanking greys, shining with lather, for the day had been very hot and -the roads were dusty. Peter was on the box, having dislodged the -coachman, who sat beside him, the groom being relegated to the cushioned -seat of the victoria. -</p> - -<p> -There was such a halloing and a shouting, everyone screaming a welcome, -grooms rushing to hold the horses, the greys pawing and champing and -snorting, that Rosemary hardly saw Peter when he threw the reins to the -coachman, jumped down from the box, and was lost in a forest of -welcoming arms that hid him completely from view. -</p> - -<p> -It was only after dinner, when the whole company went out into the -garden to get a breath of air, that Rosemary found herself for a few -moments alone with him. It had been desperately hot indoors, and the -noise of all these dear people all talking and laughing at the same time -had been overpowering. Fortunately everyone thought it would be lovely -in the garden, and still laughing and chattering they trooped out like a -covey of chickens let out of a coop. Rosemary had wandered on ahead of -the others, and presently she turned down the path that ran along the -perennial border, now a riot of colour and a tangle of late lilies, -crimson pentstemons and evening primroses. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary did not hear Peter coming. No one ever dressed for dinner at -Kis-Imre, and Peter had his tennis shoes on, and the rubber soles made -not the slightest sound upon the smooth, gravel path. She had stopped to -look at a clump of tiger lilies, when suddenly a wonderful sense of -well-being seemed to descend upon her soul. It was as if she had stepped -out of a boat that had been tossed about on a stormy sea, and had all of -a sudden set her foot upon firm ground. The first words he said were so -like the foolish, lighthearted Peter she knew. -</p> - -<p> -"You wonderful pixie!" he said, "I can't believe that it is really you!" -</p> - -<p> -She did not immediately turn to look at him, but went on studying the -markings on the lilies; then she said, as indifferently as she could: -</p> - -<p> -"Why didn't you let me know sooner, Peter, that you were coming to -Transylvania? In fact," she went on coolly, "you never did let me know -at all. I first heard through—others that you were here." -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"I think Jasper did first," she replied. "He had heard the news from -General Naniescu." -</p> - -<p> -Then only did she turn and look at him. She had to look up, because, -though she herself was very tall, one always had to look up at Peter, -who was a young giant. At this moment she certainly did not think that -he was changed. He looked just the same, with his very boyish face and -laughing grey eyes, and his fair hair that so often looked as if it had -been Marcel-waved. He was looking down at her when she turned to him, -and suddenly he said: -</p> - -<p> -"You don't look happy, Rosemary!" -</p> - -<p> -Of course she laughed and told him not to make silly remarks. How could -she help being happy here with these dear, kind people? Never, never in -all her life had she met with such kindness and hospitality. Peter -shrugged his shoulders. He thrust his hands in the pockets of his -flannel trousers, and looked down at the toes of his shoes. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," he said lightly, "if you won't tell me, you won't. And -that's that. But let me tell you this: though I dare say I am a bit of a -fool, I am not quite such an ass as not to see the difference in you. -You've got thinner. When I first arrived and shook hands with you, your -hand felt hot, and your eyes——" -</p> - -<p> -He broke off abruptly, and then said with sudden irrelevance: "Where's -Jasper?" -</p> - -<p> -"Gone to——," she began, and suddenly came to a halt. When -she promised Jasper not to breathe a word of Philip's and Anna's affairs -to Peter, she had not realised how difficult this would be. Would she be -breaking her promise if she now told Peter that Jasper was in Bucharest? -Peter would want to know why Jasper had gone to Bucharest. He would ask -questions, more questions which Rosemary's promise bound her not to -answer. -</p> - -<p> -"He has been called away on business," she said curtly. -</p> - -<p> -Her hesitation had only lasted a second or two; she hoped that Peter had -not noticed it. Anyway, when he asked: "To Budapest?" she replied, -without hesitation this time: "Yes, to Budapest." And she added quite -gaily: "He'll be back at the end of the week. You can't think, Peter, -how I miss him when he is away! Perhaps that is why I am looking thin, -and why my hands are hot." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps," Peter assented laconically. -</p> - -<p> -Then somehow the conversation flagged, and all the happy feeling that -Rosemary had experienced when Peter first stood near her slipped away -from her. She suddenly felt cold, although the evening was so hot that a -little while ago she had scarcely been able to breathe. At some little -distance behind her Philip's voice sounded cheerful and homely, and -Maurus Imrey's throaty laugh, and Elza's happy little giggle rang -through the sweet-scented evening air. Poor Rosemary shivered. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall we walk on," she asked, "or wait for the others?" -</p> - -<p> -"Let's walk on," Peter replied; then added in a clumsy, boyish fashion: -"Rather!" -</p> - -<p> -They walked on side by side. Rosemary, at a loss what to say next, had -thrown out an inquiry about the cricket match. This set Peter talking. -All at once he threw off his abrupt, constrained air, and prattled away -nineteen to the dozen. The cricket match was going to be a huge success. -Didn't Rosemary think it was a grand idea? Talk about the League of -Nations, or whatever the thing was called! In Peter's opinion, there was -nothing like a jolly good cricket or football match to bring people -together. Make them understand one another, was Peter's motto. Of -course, all these dagoes over here had got to learn to be proper sports. -No sulking if they got beaten. Peter would see to that. Anyhow, the old -General What's-his-name had been a brick. He had helped Peter no end to -get the Roumanian team together, and had given them all free passes to -Hódmezö where the match would take place. Hódmezö was in Hungary, -and old What's-his-name—meaning Naniescu—said he would rather -the Roumanian team went to Hungary than that the Hungarian team came over -here. Well, Peter didn't mind which. It was going to be a topping -affair. He was going to captain the Roumanian team, and Payson was -captaining the Hungarians. Did Rosemary know Payson? Jolly chap with a -ripping wife—done splendid work in the Air Force during the war. He -had something to do with the Military Commission on disarmaments. He was at -Budapest now, and Jasper would probably see him while he was there. -Payson was coming over to Hódmezö by aeroplane. Wouldn't that create a -sensation? There was a splendid landing ground quite close to Hódmezö -fortunately. Payson's wife was coming with him. She was so keen on -flying. Ripping couple, they were! Didn't Rosemary think so? Oh! and -Peter had had telegrams of good wishes from no end of people, and a -jolly letter from dear old Plum Warner. Did Rosemary know Plum Warner? -There was a cricketer if you like! No one like him, in Peter's opinion. -The science of the man! Well, the dagoes should learn that cricket is -the finest game in the world! Didn't Rosemary agree with him? -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary gave monosyllabic replies whenever Peter gave her the chance of -putting in a word. She could not help smiling at his enthusiasm, of -course. It was so young, so English, so thoroughly, thoroughly fine! But -somehow she could not recapture that lovely feeling of security, that -sheer joy in having Peter near her, and she kept asking herself whether it -was really Peter who had changed—who had become younger, or she who -had grown old. In this youthful athlete with his self-assurance and his -slang, she vainly sought the wayward, sometimes moody, always -captivating Peter, whose tempestuous love-making had once swept her off -her feet. -</p> - -<p> -At one moment she tried to lead the conversation into a more serious -channel: "How do you think Anna is looking?" she asked abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -"A bit peaky," Peter replied lightly, "poor little mole! When you go -back to England," he went on more gravely, "you ought to take her with -you. It would do her all the good in the world. Take her out of herself, -I mean." -</p> - -<p> -"She wouldn't come," Rosemary replied earnestly. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you think so?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Peter," she retorted, feeling exasperated with him for this air of -indifference even where Anna was concerned, "you know Anna would not -come. For one thing," Rosemary added impulsively, "I don't suppose she -would be allowed to." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean her mother wouldn't let her?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," she replied laconically. "I didn't mean that." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then?" he retorted. Then, as Rosemary, shocked, angry, remained -silent, holding her lips tightly pressed together, almost as if she were -afraid that words would slip out against her will, Peter shrugged his -broad shoulders and rejoined flippantly: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I suppose you mean old What's-his-name—Naniescu—and all -that rubbish. I don't think he would worry much. He has been a brick, -letting Anna and Philip out like that. I expect he would just as soon see -them both out of the country as not. Jolly good thing it would be for both -of them! They would learn some sense, the monkeys!" -</p> - -<p> -He paused and looked round at Rosemary. Then, as she seemed to persist -in her silence, he insisted: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't you agree with me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps," she replied, with a weary sigh. -</p> - -<p> -"Anyway, you'll think it over, won't you?" Peter went on. "I am sure you -could fix it up with old Naniescu. He admires you tremendously, you -know." -</p> - -<p> -It was all wrong, all wrong. Peter used to be so fond of little Anna. -"Give her a kiss for me," were almost the last words he had spoken to -Rosemary on the day of her wedding. His own affairs evidently pushed -every other consideration into the remotest corner of his brain; and -cricket matches were apparently of more importance than the danger which -threatened Anna and Philip. Nor had Rosemary any longer the desire to -break her promise to Jasper. She no longer wished to speak to Peter -about Anna and Philip, or about the horrible alternative which Naniescu -had put before her. Peter—this Peter—would not understand. -Jasper had not understood either—but he had misunderstood in a -different way. Rosemary realized how right he had been to extract that -promise from her. Was not Jasper always right? And was it intuition that -had prompted him, after all, rather than an attack of jealousy of which -Rosemary, in her heart, had been so ready to accuse him? -</p> - -<p> -Suddenly she felt a longing to get away from Peter, from this Peter whom -she neither knew nor trusted. "I'll go in now, I think," she said -abruptly; "the dew is rising, and my shoes are very thin." -</p> - -<p> -And she started to walk more quickly. Slowly the shades of evening had -been drawing in. Rosemary had not noticed before how dark it was -getting. The line of shrubbery behind the perennial border was like a -solid wall; and on the other side of the path the stretch of lawn, with -its great clumps of pampas grass and specimen trees, became merged in -the gathering shadows. Beyond the lawn glimmered the lights of the -château, and the veranda in front of the drawing-room was like a great -patch of golden light, broken by the long, straight lines of its -supporting columns. There was no moon, only an infinity of stars; and in -the flower border the riot of colour had faded into the gloom, leaving -just the white flowers—the nicotiana, the Madonna lilies, a few -violas—to break the even mantle spread by the night. -</p> - -<p> -From the direction of the château there came a loud call of "Halloo!" -to which Peter gave a lusty response. A voice shouted: "We are going -in!" -</p> - -<p> -"Right-o!" Peter responded. "We'll come too!" -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly he gave a bound, and in an instant had leaped the border -and disappeared in the shrubbery beyond. Rosemary, taken completely by -surprise, had come to a halt. From the shrubbery there came a loud cry -of terror, then a swear-word from Peter, and finally a string of -ejaculations, all in Hungarian, and of distressful appeals for mercy in -the name of all the saints in the calendar. The next moment Peter's -white flannels glimmered through the foliage, and a second or two later -he reappeared lower down, coming up the path and half dragging, half -pushing in front of him a huddled-up mass, scantily clothed in ragged -shirt and trousers, and crowned with a broad-brimmed hat, from beneath -which came a succession of dismal howls. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it?" Rosemary cried. -</p> - -<p> -"That's what I want to know," was Peter's reply. "I caught sight of this -blighter sneaking in the shrubbery, and got him by the ear, which he -does not seem to like, eh, my friend?" -</p> - -<p> -He gave the ear which he held between his fingers another tweak, and in -response drew a howl from his victim, fit to wake the seven sleepers. -</p> - -<p> -"Mercy, gracious lord! Mercy on a poor man! I was not doing anything -wrong; I swear by holy Joseph I was not doing anything wrong!" -</p> - -<p> -The creature, whoever he was, succeeded in wriggling himself free of -Peter's unpleasant hold. At once he turned to flee, but Peter caught him -by the shoulder, and proceeded this time to administer something more -severe in the way of punishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Leave the man alone, Peter," Rosemary cried indignantly. "You have no -right to ill-use him like that!" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, haven't I? We'll soon see about that!" Peter retorted roughly. "Now -then, my friend," he went on, speaking in Hungarian to the bundle of -rags that had collapsed at his feet, "listen to me. You have tasted the -weight of my boot on your spine, so you know pretty well what you can -expect if you don't tell me at once what you are doing at this hour of -the night in the gracious Count's garden?" -</p> - -<p> -The man, however, seemed unable to speak for the moment; loud hiccoughs -shook his tall, spare frame. He held his two hands against the base of -his spine, and with knees bent he executed a series of desperate -contortions in a vain attempt to get his right shoulder out of Peter's -grip. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter," Rosemary cried again, "let the poor wretch go. You must! Or I -shall hate you." -</p> - -<p> -But Peter only retorted harshly: "If you weren't here, Rosemary, I'd -thrash the vermin to within an inch of his life. Now then," he -commanded, "stop that howling. What were you doing in that shrubbery?" -</p> - -<p> -"I only wanted to speak with the gracious Countess," the man contrived -to murmur at last, through the hiccoughs that still seemed to choke the -words in his throat. "I have a message for her!" -</p> - -<p> -"That's why I caught you with this in your belt, eh?" Peter queried -sternly, and drew something out of his pocket, which Rosemary could not -see; he showed it to the man, who promptly made a fresh appeal to the -saints. -</p> - -<p> -"The roads are not safe for poor gipsies, gracious lord. And I had the -message——" -</p> - -<p> -"Who gave you a message for the gracious Countess?" Rosemary asked him -gently. -</p> - -<p> -"I—I don't know, gracious lady. A fine gentleman on a horse called to -me when I was gathering wood over by the forest of Normafa. He gave me -a letter. Take it, he said, to the gracious Countess over at Kis-Imre, -but do not give it into any hands but hers, and only give it to her when -she is alone." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is the letter?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is here, gracious lady," the man replied, and fumbling with the belt -that held his ragged trousers round his waist, he drew from underneath -it a soiled and crumpled rag that effectively looked like a letter in a -sealed envelope. Peter would have snatched it out of his hand, but -Rosemary interposed. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter," she said gravely, and stretched a protecting arm over the -gipsy's hand, "the man was told not to give it in any hand but Elza's!" -</p> - -<p> -"The man is a liar," Peter riposted harshly. -</p> - -<p> -Just then Philip's voice reached them from across the lawn. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you two doing over there?" -</p> - -<p> -"Philip, is your mother with you?" Rosemary shouted in response. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes! We are just going in." -</p> - -<p> -"Ask her to wait a moment then." -</p> - -<p> -"What has happened?" Elza called. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing, darling," Rosemary replied. "Send the others in and wait for -me, will you?" Then she turned to the gipsy, and said kindly: "Walk -beside me, and don't try to run away; the gracious lord will not hurt -you if you walk quietly beside me." -</p> - -<p> -And so the three of them walked across the lawn toward the château, -Rosemary in front, and beside her the gipsy, whose long thin hands -almost swept the grass as he walked with bent knees and arched back, -throwing from time to time anxious glances behind him. But Peter was -lagging behind. -</p> - -<p> -When they were dose to the château, they saw Elza coming down the -veranda steps. Rosemary ordered the gipsy to wait, and ran to meet Elza; -in a few words she told her what had occurred. Elza then came across the -gravel path, and said to the gipsy: "I am the Countess Imrey. You may -give me the letter!" -</p> - -<p> -The man's back became more curved than ever; he nearly touched the -ground with his forehead. In the darkness Rosemary seemed to sect his -long, thin body, curling itself up almost into a ball. -</p> - -<p> -"I was told," he murmured meekly, "to give the letter in the hands of -the gracious Countess only when she was alone." -</p> - -<p> -Instinctively Rosemary turned to look for Peter. To her surprise she saw -him just above her, going up the veranda steps. He had his hands in the -pockets of his trousers, and he was whistling a tune. -</p> - -<p> -The gipsy whom he had so maltreated a little while ago no longer seemed -to interest him. Rosemary called to him rather impatiently: -</p> - -<p> -"Peter!" -</p> - -<p> -He paused and looked down at her. "Hallo!" he said coolly. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think it is all right for Elza to talk with this man alone?" -</p> - -<p> -Peter shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" he said, with a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -Then he called out to Elza: -</p> - -<p> -"I say, Aunt Elza, if the wretch should try to kiss you, sing out, won't -you?" -</p> - -<p> -Elza laughed good-humouredly. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I am not afraid," she said. "And I do want to know about this -mysterious letter." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary would have liked to argue the point. She could not understand -how it was that Peter took the matter so lightly all of a sudden. -However, as Elza was playfully pushing her out of the way, whilst Peter -calmly continued to stroll up the stairs, she only said with a final -note of earnestness: "I shall be quite close, Elza. You have only to -call, you know." -</p> - -<p> -"I know, I know," Elza rejoined, still laughing. "You don't suppose that -I am frightened of a gipsy, do you?" -</p> - -<p> -She waited a moment or two until Rosemary was out of sight, then she -turned back to the man, and said: -</p> - -<p> -"I am alone now. You may give me the letter." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary went slowly up the veranda steps. She did not feel that it -would be loyal to pry into Elza's secrets, but at the same time she -wanted to remain well within call. From where she was she could see -Peter's broad shoulders blocking the French window which gave on the -drawing-room. From somewhere in the house, both above and below stairs, -came the sound of laughter and song. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later she heard Elza's footsteps behind her on the -gravel walk, and presently Elza was there, going up the veranda steps -beside Rosemary. She did not say a word, and Rosemary asked no -questions. She could see that Elza was preoccupied. She also noticed -that the letter—or whatever it was—was not in Elza's hands. -</p> - -<p> -Peter stood aside to allow the two ladies to step into the drawing-room. -He asked no questions either, and Elza did not volunteer any -information. It seemed as if the incident of the mysterious gipsy had -never been. Later on Peter sat down at the piano and played a -<i>csàrdàs</i>, for Philip and Anna to dance. They were beautiful dancers, -both of them, and it was a pleasure to watch them swaying and bending to -the syncopated cadences of the beautiful Hungarian music. Peter, too, -had evidently that music in the blood. Rosemary had no idea he could -play it so well. He seemed just as excited as the dancers, and -accelerated the movement of the <i>csàrdàs</i> until little Anna called for -mercy, and even Philip seemed ready to give in. For the time being -Rosemary forgot her troubles in the joy of seeing those two enjoying -themselves, and the delight of listening to Peter. What a pity, she -thought, as she had often done, that he should waste all the poetry, the -talent that was in him, and only devote his mind to cricket. She drew -close up to the piano, to watch his slender fingers flying over the -keys, and as she did so, her glance at one moment wandered to the small -what-not in the corner by the piano. There, in the midst of a -miscellaneous collection of cigarette boxes, ash-trays, match-boxes, lay -a small automatic. -</p> - -<p> -Peter caught her eye, which at the moment expressed a mute inquiry. He -shrugged his shoulders and smiled. He had a cigarette in a long holder -in the corner of his mouth, but he contrived to murmur: -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, the blighter; wasn't I right to thrash him?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary looked across at Elza. She sat quite placidly, as she always did, -close to her husband's chair, watching her Philip—her soul in her -eyes. She was smiling, and now and then she turned to say a word or two -to Maurus; but to Rosemary she still looked preoccupied, and once she -caught Elza's large kind eyes fixed upon her with a curious, -scrutinising gaze. -</p> - -<p> -An hour later when Rosemary was in her room and beginning to undress, -there was a knock at her door, and Elza came in, with that kindly smile -of hers still on her face, but with a troubled look in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"May I come in for a moment, darling?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary made her comfortable on the sofa, and sat down beside her. Elza -took hold of both her hands and fondled them, stroking them up and down, -and she began talking about Philip and Anna, and the dancing and the -plans for future parties, and picnics and so on. Rosemary let her -prattle on; it was her turn to scrutinise Elza's face closely. That -something was troubling this dear, kind creature was obvious. She was, -as it were, gathering her moral forces before she broached something -unpleasant that she had come to say. It was no use brusquing the matter, -and Rosemary entered into Elza's plans, discussed the coming -dinner-parties, the proposed lists of guests, talked about Anna's -future, and made some remarks about Peter. -</p> - -<p> -This brought the main subject on the tapis. -</p> - -<p> -"Where did you and Peter first see that gipsy?" Elza asked presently. -</p> - -<p> -"He was hiding in the shrubbery," Rosemary replied, "behind the flower -border. I didn't see him. Peter saw him and pounced upon him, and -dragged him out on to the path." -</p> - -<p> -"Funny he did not just go to the service door and ask for me, wasn't -it?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's what Peter thought. I am afraid he treated the poor wretch -rather roughly." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry he did that," Elza mused, and thoughtfully stroked -Rosemary's slender fingers between her own. "The man really had a -message for me." -</p> - -<p> -"I know," Rosemary rejoined; "a letter." -</p> - -<p> -"No, it wasn't a letter," Elza said, and looked Rosemary now straight -between the eyes. "You know these gipsies are queer people. They have -curious gifts of divination and prophecy. This man——" -</p> - -<p> -She seemed to hesitate, her glance wavered, and once more she started -mechanically stroking Rosemary's hands. -</p> - -<p> -"But the man had a letter for you, Elza dear," Rosemary insisted. "I saw -it in his hand." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that was only a blind; and so was his story about the gentleman on -a horse. He told me that he had come all the way from Ujlak to speak -with me. Ujlak is where I was born, and my dear brother and Peter's -mother. My sister-in-law lives there still. Anna was born there, and -little Marie. It was my father's home and my grandfather's before him, -and our ancestors' for many generations. Well, this gipsy came from -there." -</p> - -<p> -"In order to speak with you?" -</p> - -<p> -"So he said." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, and what did he have to tell you?" Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -"That he had had a vision. My father had appeared before him in a dream, -and told him that he must start at once and seek me. He was to tell me -that he whom I love best in all the world is in immediate danger of -death." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary never moved; she was looking straight at Elza. Only when Elza -paused, seeming to wait for some word from her, Rosemary said: -</p> - -<p> -"That—wretched creature told you that?" -</p> - -<p> -Elza nodded. She went on simply: -</p> - -<p> -"I see by your face, dear, that he told the truth, not only in that, but -in what he said to follow." -</p> - -<p> -"What was that?" -</p> - -<p> -"He said that the stranger now within our gates knows of this danger, -and would confirm what he said. Well, my darling, I only need look at -your sweet face to see that miserable wretch spoke the truth. He -was inspired by a dream to come and speak with me. But I would not -question him further. Those gipsies often lie, and they will tell you -any tale in order to get a few coppers. But I saw your look when I told -you what he said, and it is from you that I want the truth. What is the -danger that threatens Philip?" -</p> - -<p> -"Elza, darling——" Rosemary murmured. -</p> - -<p> -"I am his mother, you know," Elza interposed, with her gentle, quiet -smile. "I must know. He is all the world to me. And as soon as you knew -that something threatened him, you should have told me, my darling." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as Rosemary was still fighting with herself, alternately praying -to God for guidance, and striving to swallow the tears that were choking -her, Elza went on quite quietly: -</p> - -<p> -"It is difficult for you, of course," she said, and patted Rosemary's -cheek like an indulgent mother, "but it would have been better to tell -me at first. I have had a very, very happy week since the children came -home, but looking back on it now, I don't think that I was ever quite -free from a vague sort of doubt. I was always a little uneasy, and -whenever Philip kissed me, I could not help crying." -</p> - -<p> -Elza had spoken in a curious, dreamy manner, her round blue eyes fixed -somewhere on vacant space. But now she seemed to pull herself together, -she looked once more at Rosemary, gave her an encouraging smile, and -said in a perfectly quiet, matter-of-fact tone: -</p> - -<p> -"Well, now tell me all about it. Philip's release and Anna's is only a -temporary one. Is that it?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary nodded. She could not trust herself to speak. Elza gave a -little gasp, but her voice was still quite steady as she went on -questioning Rosemary: -</p> - -<p> -"What is the charge against them?" -</p> - -<p> -"Philip wrote certain newspaper articles," Rosemary replied, and her -voice sounded mechanical, like that of an automaton, "which have -appeared in the English and American press. Anna used to send those -through in the parcels she packed up in Balog's shop." -</p> - -<p> -"I knew about those articles," Elza rejoined simply. "Everybody in -Transylvania knew about them, but I did not guess that Philip had -anything to do with them, or Anna. Then," she went on with a little -catch in her throat, "it means a charge of treason against the State?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes!" -</p> - -<p> -"Military tribunal?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes." -</p> - -<p> -"And—if they are found guilty—a—sentence—of death?" -</p> - -<p> -"No! No! No!" And Rosemary was on her knees with her arms round Elza's -shoulders, her tear-stained face turned up to her, protesting -vigorously, strenuously, that which she knew was false. But Elza's big, -round eyes were tearless; she looked a little wildly perhaps, but quite -kindly into the beautiful face that expressed such a world of love and -sympathy. Then, gently but firmly, she disengaged herself from -Rosemary's arms. -</p> - -<p> -"Well now, my dear," she asked, very quietly, "all this being so, why -did Naniescu let those children come home at all? Why should he postpone -their trial, their—their punishment?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary's head fell upon her breast. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know," she murmured. -</p> - -<p> -But Elza put her podgy finger under Rosemary's chin, and forced her to -look up. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't lie to me, darling," she pleaded softly, "tell me the truth." -</p> - -<p> -"I have told you the truth, Elza," Rosemary protested through her tears. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I must believe you, if you say so. And yet it is all very -mysterious. Why should Naniescu wait? Why should he play with those poor -children, like a cat does with a mouse? You know, Rosemary darling, what -the gipsy said in the end?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"He said that the stranger within the gates had the power to save my son -from death. Have you that power, Rosemary?" -</p> - -<p> -"No! No!" Rosemary protested wildly. "If it were in my power, don't you -think that I would do anything in the world to save Philip and Anna?" -</p> - -<p> -Elza nodded. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, dear," she said gently. "Of course I do think it; but when the -gipsy said that, I could not help feeling hopeful, for he was right in -everything else he said——" -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly she took Rosemary's face between her two hands, and she -gazed into her eyes with a look of almost fierce intensity in her own, -as if she would wrest a secret from the depths of the younger woman's -soul. -</p> - -<p> -"Swear to me, Rosemary," she said, and her gentle voice sounded raucous -and harsh, "swear to me that there is nothing in the world that you can -do to save Philip!" -</p> - -<p> -And Rosemary, returning her gaze, replied steadily: -</p> - -<p> -"I swear to you that it is not in my power to save Philip and Anna. If -it were, I would do it." -</p> - -<p> -Even then Elza did not cry. She just sat there quite, quite still, her -big, round eyes quite dry, her mouth without a quiver, but sitting there -so still, so still, with her beautiful golden hair all round her face, -the soft streaks of grey all about her temples, her fine features rigid, -her podgy white hands resting on her knees; she looked such a tragic -figure of despair that Rosemary could hardly suppress the cry of anguish -that rose insistently to her throat. -</p> - -<p> -"And so we can do nothing," Elza said, with a note of quiet finality in -her voice. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't say that, dear," Rosemary protested. "Jasper, as a matter of -fact, has gone to Bucharest to try and see the King personally. The -Roumanian Government owes some gratitude to my husband, as you know. I -am quite sure that he will bring strong pressure to bear upon the -authorities, and get a full pardon for Philip and Anna on the score of -their youth." -</p> - -<p> -But Elza slowly shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"You don't believe yourself, darling," she said, "in what you say. The -children have committed the unpardonable crime of being born Hungarians, -and of resenting foreign tyranny in their native land. The King himself -would be kind, I am sure, but Bucharest is a long way off, and the -bureaucrats over here do not know the meaning of the word 'mercy.'" -</p> - -<p> -"But we know the meaning of the word 'hope,' Elza dear," Rosemary said -steadily, and struggled to her feet. "We are not going to give up hope. -You talk about your gipsies having the gift of prophecy. Well, it is my -turn to prophesy now. Philip and Anna are in God's hands, and you and I -are going to pray so hard and so ceaselessly that God will help us, I am -sure. I know," she added firmly. -</p> - -<p> -Elza gave a short, quick sigh. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, yes," she said, "you are lucky, you English! Your religion means a -great deal to you. But we, over here, are so different. We go to convent -schools when we are too young to understand. Then we are all fire and -enthusiasm, but we do not understand. After that we marry and live in -those remote villages where the poor curé is only an illiterate peasant -with whom we have nothing in common, whose habits are often such that we -could not possibly make our confession to him. And so we soon forget -what we learned in our childhood, and we come to trusting in ourselves -rather than in God." -</p> - -<p> -She rose and, with the same motherly gentleness which she always showed -to Rosemary, she folded the girl in her loving arms. -</p> - -<p> -"Good night, my dear," she said placidly. "I ought not to have kept you -up so late. Good night, dear. Pray to your God for us all. The God of -the English is more merciful, I think, than ours." -</p> - -<p> -"Elza," Rosemary insisted, "promise me that you will not give up hope. -Jasper comes back to-morrow. He may bring the best of news. Promise me -that in any case you will not give up hope." -</p> - -<p> -The ghost of a smile appeared on Elza's face. -</p> - -<p> -"I will promise," she said, "not altogether to give up faith." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary kissed her tenderly. After that she escorted her as far as her -room, and at the door she kissed her once more, and then she said, with -solemn earnestness: -</p> - -<p> -"Elza darling, will you believe me if I say that if I could give my life -for those two children I would do it? If it were in my power to save -them, I would. But it is not in my power to save them, to do anything, -but to leave them in God's hands." -</p> - -<p> -Elza returned her kiss with gentleness and affection. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear, kind Rosemary," she murmured; "go to bed, dear, you must be so -tired." -</p> - -<p> -Then she quietly slipped into her room and closed the door. And Rosemary -was left to face the night alone. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX</a></h4> - -<p> -What puzzled Rosemary was the gipsy. What was the mystery of that -vagabond found lurking in the park at nightfall with a revolver in his -belt? What connexion had he with the eyes that had watched Rosemary the -night that she was talking with little Anna? And how had he come in -possession of the inner history of Philip's and Anna's temporary -release? -</p> - -<p> -There was a mystery here. Somewhere. A disquieting, a terrifying -mystery, not altogether to be accounted for by the spy system or other -secret organization of the Roumanian Government. -</p> - -<p> -All night Rosemary struggled with the puzzle. All night she wrestled -with herself for the right to break her promise to Jasper and to lay all -the facts of the case before Peter. She wanted to do this before -Jasper's return, and, anyway, he must release her—he must—from -that promise which placed her in a false and disloyal position towards -Peter. When Rosemary fell asleep the dawn was breaking, and she had almost -made up her mind to tell Peter everything. -</p> - -<p> -But the next morning when she went downstairs she found the whole house -in a turmoil. Servants rushing to and fro, Elza in close conversation -with the chef, Maurus shouting contradictory orders across the galleried -hall. Peter was in the drawing-room playing a jazz tune this time, and -Philip and Anna were fox-trotting, infusing even in this ugly so-called -dance some of their own native grace. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as Rosemary appeared she was greeted with regular war-whoops of -delight. In a moment she was drawn into the whirlpool of excitement. -Philip and Anna dragged her to the sofa, and they and Maurus and Elza -all talked to her at once, while Peter, with the inevitable cigarette in -the corner of his mouth, continued to pound away at the jazz tune. -</p> - -<p> -From the deafening hubbub of conversation Rosemary gathered, in the -first instance, that the gipsy band from Bonczhida were coming over the -next day, and the gipsies of Bonczhida were the finest in Transylvania. -Then that the Keletys were driving over from Hajdu, and the Fejérs from -Henger; that perhaps Aunt Charlotte would come too and bring Marie; that -the Keletys were bringing the Poltys, and the Fejérs having the Kékesy -boys staying with them would of course bring them along. They reckoned -that there would be ten or a dozen couples to dance, and with the mammas -and papas they would be thirty to supper. They expected most of the -guests to arrive in time for luncheon, and in the afternoon they could -have some tennis; then in the evening they would have a ball to which -the officers from the garrison at Cluj had already been invited, and -they had accepted by telephone. Among them were those who were going to -play cricket with the Hungarians at Hódmezö under Peter's direction. -</p> - -<p> -At this marvellous statement Peter came to a pause in the music with a -crashing chord, took the cigarette out of his mouth, and throwing up his -hands, exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -"Going to play cricket with the Hungarians under Peter's direction! Oh, -blessed people! Ye ghosts of Fitzgerald, Pycroft, and of Lillywhite, do -ye hear them and writhe up there in Heaven?" -</p> - -<p> -Then he struck up the "March of the Men of Harlech." -</p> - -<p> -"If anyone says anything more about cricket," he said solemnly, "I shall -force them to play with warped bats and golf-balls on a ploughed field." -</p> - -<p> -Not a trace of anxiety or even preoccupation on any of those dear, -beaming faces. Elza was as excited as any of them, worried to death -because the carp they had got out of the lake for this evening's supper -were not really fat. -</p> - -<p> -"They're no bigger than a good-sized goldfish," she said to Rosemary -with a note of real tragedy in her voice, and her blue eyes at once -looked anxious and troubled, as if the matter of the carp was the only -thing that could worry her. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary made a great effort not to be a wet blanket in the midst of all -this gaiety. In this she succeeded admirably. All she had to do was to -smile and to nod her head, and now and then to cry out, "How splendid!" -The others did all the talking, and when conversation subsided for a -moment Peter came down with a fresh, crashing jazz tune. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary would have thought the whole scene a phantasmagoria—illusive -images that would presently be dispelled—only that she had known -these people ever since she was a child. She had studied their curious -psychology, half barbaric, with all the primitive disregard of danger -and the passion for pleasure, even at the point of death. She gave -ungrudging admiration to Elza—Elza who had sat in her room last -night, rigid, dry-eyed, a living statue of despair. What went on behind -that smooth, white brow of hers? What projects? What hopes? And little -Anna? Anna knew. Anna guessed. She had spoken of her fears to Rosemary. -Spoken of eyes that watched her, of eyes that were willing her to do -something foolish that would compromise her irretrievably this time. Elza -and Anna! What an example of self-possession, of self-control! Rosemary was -almost ready to persuade herself that something had happened to reassure -them both—that, in fact, they knew the danger to be past. -</p> - -<p> -Only that Elza avoided her glance, and that the dear soul, usually so -placid, so stable, was just a thought more restless than usual, and her -gentle voice would from time to time become shrill. -</p> - -<p> -At last, genuinely tired and bewildered by so much noise, Rosemary -jumped up and, laughing, declared that she must escape out of the -bear-garden for a moment and get a breath of fresh air in the park. In -order to reach the glass door that gave on the veranda, Rosemary had to -go past the piano. Quite close. Peter looked up when she was near him, -and she said to him as she went past: "They are very gay, aren't they?" -</p> - -<p> -"Elza has a perfectly mad plan in her head," Peter replied, and struck a -few loud chords so that no one save Rosemary should hear what he said. -"For God's sake, if you have any influence over her, get her to give it -up." -</p> - -<p> -Then he shouted merrily: "I've had enough of those horrible American -tunes. Who wants a <i>csàrdàs?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -But he did not play a <i>csàrdàs</i> a moment or two his fingers wandered -aimlessly over the keys, whilst his eyes followed Rosemary as she -stepped through the glass door on to the sun-bathed veranda. And as -Rosemary felt the sun, the clear, luscious air, the scent of flowers and -of distant pines, envelop her as in a warm mantle, there came wafted to -her ears the soft strains of that exquisite Hungarian love-song: "There -is but one beautiful girl in all the world." The piano now seemed to -sing under Peter's delicate touch, and Rosemary paused and stood quite, -quite still, letting the music sink into her, yielding to its voluptuous -cadence, and allowing her thoughts, her desires, her longings, to soar -upwards to that infinity to which music alone can convey the soul on its -magic wings. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary had wandered beyond the confines of the park, and roamed about -in the woods, having lost all sense of time. When presently she came -back to the reality of things she looked at her watch and saw that it -was close on twelve o'clock. Luncheon at the château was at half-past. -It meant stepping out briskly so as to be in time. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as she reached the flower-garden, it struck her as strange that -the château suddenly appeared to be so quiet. No sound reached her as -she came near to the veranda steps, either of shrill, excited voices, or -of laughter or song. -</p> - -<p> -She found the family assembled on the veranda—Maurus, Elza, Philip -and Anna. Only Peter was not there. A first glance at them all revealed to -Rosemary what had occurred. Elza had told them what the gipsy had said. -Maurus sat in his chair like a man in a trance, his dark face flushed, -his hair towzeled, his large, dark eyes staring out before him, with a -look in them that was not entirely sane. -</p> - -<p> -Philip, on the other hand, was pacing up and down the veranda floor, -whilst Anna stood quite still, leaning against a column, looking for all -the world like a little martyr tied to the stake, her small, thin hands -clasped together, a faint flush on her cheeks. These two children looked -excited rather than horror-filled. Anna's face suggested that of an -idealist—not altogether resigned, but nevertheless eager to suffer -for the cause. But Philip looked like a lighter, seeking for a chance to -hit back, a combatant not yet brought to his knees. -</p> - -<p> -Elza's round, blue eyes just wandered from one to the other of these -faces all dear to her. -</p> - -<p> -They were dry eyes, anxious eyes, but there was nothing in them to-day -of that tragic despair which had been so heart-breaking to behold the -evening before. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary's first thought had been: "They know. Elza has told them!" The -second was: "Elza has a plan. Peter said it was a mad one. A plan for -Philip and Anna's escape." She wondered if they would tell her. -</p> - -<p> -"I hope I am not late for lunch," she said, rather breathlessly, as she -had been walking very fast. Then she added casually: "Where is Peter?" -</p> - -<p> -"He is busy packing," Elza replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Packing?" Rosemary exclaimed, puzzled. "He is not going -away—already?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," Elza said, "to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"But he did not say anything yesterday," Rosemary insisted, "about going -away again so soon. Or even this morning." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think he knew yesterday," Elza rejoined. "It seems he had a -telephone message half an hour ago. He says he must go." -</p> - -<p> -Anna now appeared to wake out of her trance. Rosemary was standing close -to her just then; she took Rosemary's hand gently in hers and said: -</p> - -<p> -"You see, darling, it is like this: one of Peter's cricketers has -telephoned to him to say that they have such a lot of trouble about -their rooms at Hódmezö. Roumanians are not exactly popular in -Hungary," she went on with a wan little smile, "and I suppose that -hotel-keepers don't care to put them up. So Peter has had to promise to -go and put things right for his cricketers." -</p> - -<p> -"He will come back, of course, after the cricket match," Elza concluded -placidly. "But it is a great nuisance for him, packing and unpacking all -the time." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary made no further remark. Everything seemed terribly puzzling. -That Elza had told the children, had told Maurus, all she knew, was -beyond question. That Peter also knew everything, and that he knew and -disapproved of some plan which Elza had made, Rosemary supposed, for the -escape of Philip and Anna was, to her mind, equally certain. But even if -Peter disapproved, how could he go away at this critical time, and leave -Elza to plan and contrive alone, hampered by a half-crazy husband, and -surrounded by spies? However, no one apparently meant to say anything -more just then, and it was quite a relief when the luncheon-bell -sounded, and the little party on the veranda broke up and every one -trooped downstairs for luncheon. -</p> - -<p> -Peter was already in the dining-room, waiting for the others. Elza in -her kind, gentle way asked him about his packing, and whether she could -help him to get ready. But Peter declared that he wanted nothing, only -the carriage this evening to take him to Cluj. -</p> - -<p> -He grumbled terribly at having to go away. He hated the idea of missing -the ball and all the friends who were coming; but when Elza or Maurus -tried to persuade him to stay, he was very firm. "I've got to go, Aunt -Elza. You don't know what complications might occur if those Roumanians -got to Hódmezö and were not properly treated. Good God!" he added, -with mock horror, "it might land you all in another war! And all through -my fault!" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had never seen Peter so gay or so conversational. He appeared -entirely unconscious of the undercurrent of tragedy that flowed through -Elza's pathetic attempts at conversation, and Maurus's equally tragic -silences. He talked incessantly, chiefly about the cricket match and -chiefly to Philip, who made desperate efforts to appear interested. -Rosemary did her best, too, but she was anxious and puzzled, and frankly -she did not believe in the story of the telephone message. -</p> - -<p> -She tried now and then to catch Elza's eye, but in this she never once -succeeded. Elza was avoiding her glance. She meant to say nothing about -her plan—this mad plan of which Peter disapproved so thoroughly that -he preferred to be out of the way. Did these dear, kind people mistrust her -then, because of what the gipsy had said? Or was this reticence merely -the natural outcome of a sense of supreme danger that mistrusted -everything and everybody? -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt the mystery deepening around her. She could not understand -Peter. -</p> - -<p> -Sometime after luncheon she found Elza and Anna sitting together in the -small brick-built summer-house at the farther end of the lake. Rosemary -had wandered as far as there with a book, anxious as she was to be out -of the way. It was hot, and the air was very still, and the scent of -tuberoses and heliotrope was almost too heady. In the perennial border -a number of humming-bird moths were busy about a bed of sweet sultan; -the soft whirring sound of their wings could be heard quite distinctly -in the extreme stillness of this late summer's afternoon. From time to -time distant sounds of village life came in quick, short waves to -Rosemary's ear, as well as the sharp click of tools wielded by the -gardeners at work somewhere in the park. Close beside the summer-house -one man was busy hand-weeding the path. As Rosemary drew nearer, he -looked up for an instant, and then he shuffled rapidly away. In the -long, stooping figure, the dirty rags and the dark skin, Rosemary -thought that she recognized the gipsy of the previous night. It was just -like Elza, she thought, to give the poor wretch work on the estate. -</p> - -<p> -When Rosemary saw Elza and Anna sitting together in the summer-house, -her instinct was to pass discreetly on, with just a hasty, cheery word, -but Elza called to her. -</p> - -<p> -"Come and sit here a minute, Rosemary darling," she said. "Anna and I -want to tell you everything." -</p> - -<p> -Everything! Rosemary without a word stepped into the little pavilion. -Anna pulled a wicker chair forward between herself and Elza, and -Rosemary sat down, a little anxious, a little fearful, wondering what -these dear, enthusiastic hotheads had devised, and how she herself would -act when she knew. Elza at once took hold of her hand and fondled it. -</p> - -<p> -"You asked me last night, darling," she began, "not to give up hope, -didn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary nodded acquiescence. -</p> - -<p> -"And I promised that I would not give up faith," Elza went on quietly. -"Well, I have kept my faith all through last night, which was very -trying. With the dawn, hope came to me, and after that I once more felt -in charity with all the world." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary gave Elza's podgy white hand a tender squeeze. "Dear!" she -whispered. -</p> - -<p> -"We have a plan, darling," Elza said triumphantly. "A splendid plan! -To-morrow night Philip and Anna will be in Hungary, safely out of the -way." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had known all along what was coming. She looked at Anna, who -gave an excited little nod. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell Rosemary, Aunt Elza," she said. "All from the beginning. There's -no one in the world you can trust as you can Rosemary." -</p> - -<p> -"Listen then, darling," Elza said, speaking quite quietly at first, then -gradually allowing excitement to get hold of her voice, making it -tremble while she spoke, and husky with eagerness, while her command of -the English tongue became less and less pronounced. -</p> - -<p> -"It has all been made possible by this cricket business, for which I -thank God and Peter Blakeney. As I told you this morning, Peter's -cricket people are all coming here to-morrow for the ball. They have to -be at Hódmezö the following day for the cricket. So they will bring -their luggage, and make a start from here after the ball—I suppose -about midnight—in three motor-cars which the Governor, General -Naniescu, has himself placed at their disposition. Hódmezö is, as you -know, in Hungary, just the other side of the frontier. It will be about -four or five hours' drive from here, as there is a short cut—quite a -good road—which avoids Cluj. In two of those motor-cars the cricket -people themselves will go; they are mostly young Roumanian officers and -men of the better class. General Naniescu has, of course, given them all -free passes for the occasion. Fortunately he has also given them passes -for four servants to accompany them. These four men will go in the third -motor, and they will also go in the motor all the way to Hódmezö. Now -two of these servants, whom the local commissary of police has himself -chosen and to whom passes have been given, are the two sons of Janos the -miller, who is devoted to us all. His two sons have certainly served in -the Roumanian army because they were obliged, but they have remained -Hungarian at heart, and would do anything for me and for Philip." -</p> - -<p> -Elza paused. Her eager, round eyes searched Rosemary's face. Rosemary, -of course, had already guessed the rest, her own excitement while she -listened was as tense as Elza's. She gripped the white podgy little hand -of her friend, and looked from her to Anna—a mute question in every -glance. -</p> - -<p> -"You can guess, of course?" Anna said. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary nodded: "I can guess," she said, "but do go on." -</p> - -<p> -"I sent for János early this morning," Elza went on. "All I had to tell -him was that Philip and Anna were in great danger, and must be got out -of the country at any cost. He understood! We Hungarians in this -occupied territory all understand one another. We understand danger. We -live with danger constantly at our door. And János was so clever, so -helpful. I only had to outline my plan, he thought out all the details. -The mill is about a kilomètre from here, the last house in the village. -As soon as the first two motors have gone with the cricket people and -the Roumanian officers, Philip and Anna will at once run round to the -mill, and János will give them clothes belonging to his sons. The -clothes they will put on. In the meanwhile the third motor-car will have -collected the two other men in the village who are going as servants to -Hódmezö—one is the brother of the Jew over at the inn, and the other -the son of the Roumanian storekeeper. Then it will call at the mill. -János will ask the two men to come in. He and his two sons will give -them some strong spirit to drink. The brother of the Jew and the son of -the storekeeper are both of them great drunkards. When they have become -what you English call I think <i>blotto</i>, János will take them back into -the motor. There they will sit, and will probably at once go to sleep. -But Philip and Anna will also get into the motor. They will be dressed -in peasant's clothes, and they will have the free passes which Naniescu -has given to Janos' sons. They will get to Hódmezö about five o'clock -in the morning. And once they are in Hungary they are safe. Rosemary, -darling! they are safe!" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had remained silent. The whole thing certainly at first glance -appeared so easy, so simple that she found herself wondering why she or -Jasper—or Peter—had never thought of such a plan. She also -wondered why Peter should have spoken of it as a mad plan, and begged her -if she had any influence with Elza to dissuade her from it. What had been -in his mind when he said that? Of what was he afraid? Spies, of course. But -spies, like the poor, were always there, and, after all, Philip and Anna -would only be risking what already was forfeit—their lives. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary sat there in silence, her fingers closed over Elza's soft, warm -hand. She gazed straight before her, thinking. Thinking; her mind -already following Philip and Anna's flight through this hostile, cruel -country, to the land which would mean freedom and life for them. She saw -them in her mind's eye, like a vision floating before her across the -lake, which in this day-dream had become a wide, dusty road with a -motor-car speeding along toward life and toward freedom. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed a solution. It must be a solution. Thank God Jasper would be -there to help with counsel and with suggestions. Elza was talking again -now. In her quaint English, which became more and more involved, she -continued to talk of her plan, as a child will talk of some event that -made it happy. She harped on the details, on Janos' devotion, the two -sons who would make their way to the frontier in their father's bullock -cart, and then cross over to Hungary on foot, through the woods and over -a mountain pass where there would be no fear of meeting Roumanian -sentinels. At Hódmezö they would find Peter and the cricket people. -They would get back their passes, and return quite gaily with the -others, having saved the lives of Philip and Anna. Such devotion! Wasn't -it splendid? -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary only nodded from time to time, and from time to time she -squeezed Elza's hand. It was so hot and so airless here in the little -pavilion with those clusters of climbing heliotrope all over the roof -and half-blocking up the entrance. The bees and humming bird moths were -making such a buzzing and a whirring; it was just like the hum of -motor-car wheels on the dusty road. And through it all came the swishing -sound of a garden broom upon the gravel path, between the summer-house -and the stone coping around the ornamental lake. Rosemary caught herself -watching the broom swinging backwards and forwards across the path, and -across; she saw the two hands—very dark lean hands they -were—that wielded the broom, and finally the gipsy's tall, thin -figure bent almost double to his task. It seemed just right that the man -should be there at this hour, sweeping the path for Elza to walk on -presently, for Philip also and for Anna. It was right because it was the -gipsy who had told Elza what she, Rosemary, had not had the courage to -say. There was very little mystery about the gipsy now; he was just a -ragged, dirty labourer, bending to his task. Did the strange -intuition—or was it divination—that had brought him all the -way from his native village to speak with Elza whisper to him that his -warning had already borne fruit, and that the gracious lady whom he had -come to warn had found in faith and hope the way out of dark destiny? -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, that's all right, darling! We spoke English all the time!" -</p> - -<p> -Elza said this with a light laugh. Rosemary woke from her day-dream. She -must have been speaking in her dream—about the gipsy who haunted her -thoughts. -</p> - -<p> -"Did I say anything?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, darling," Anna replied, "you have been very silent for the last -minute or two, and then suddenly you said: 'The gipsy, the gipsy,' -twice, like that. It sounded so funny." -</p> - -<p> -"I thought," Elza put in, "that perhaps you were afraid that dirty -old gipsy had heard what we said. But gipsies in Hungary don't speak -English, you know. For one thing they never go to school." -</p> - -<p> -Elza appeared quite light-hearted now. -</p> - -<p> -"I knew," she said, "that you would approve of my plan." -</p> - -<p> -She said this, but Rosemary herself was quite unconscious that she had -spoken. She had dreamed and dreamed, and seen a motor-car speeding along -the dusty road. But through it all, she had approved, approved of the -plan. It was so feasible, and so simple. She only wondered why Peter -disapproved. -</p> - -<p> -"What does Peter Blakeney say to all that?" she asked presently. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter?" Elza asked wide-eyed. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. You told him about your plan, didn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No! No!" Elza asserted firmly. "We have told no one but you. Peter is -going away. Why should we tell Peter?" -</p> - -<p> -"I thought——" Rosemary murmured. -</p> - -<p> -"It will be time enough to tell him," Anna put in gaily, "when Philip -and I turn up at the hotel at Hódmezö. Won't he be surprised when he -sees us?" -</p> - -<p> -How strange it all was! Peter knew, since he spoke of a mad plan in -Elza's head, and begged Rosemary to dissuade her from it. Peter knew, -though no one had told him. Another mystery added to all those which had -of late filled Rosemary with such a torturing sense of foreboding. -Another mystery that seemed to surround Peter's changed personality, -that seemed a part of this new personality of his, flippant and -indifferent, so unlike the Peter she had known. -</p> - -<p> -Now she longed passionately for Jasper—dear, kind Jasper, around whom -there hung no mystery—the strong hand that would guide her through -this maze of intrigue which bewildered as much as it terrified her. -Fortunately her promise to Jasper had been kept. With this new mystery -about Peter that she vaguely dreaded, she would have been racked with -anxiety if she had confided in him. And yet, how disloyal was this -thought, this fear! Fear of Peter! Mistrust of Peter! A very little -while ago she would have staked her soul that Peter was true, loyal, the -soul of honour, an English gentleman, an English sportsman! A Blakeney! -A Scarlet Pimpernel of to-day. What was there in the atmosphere of this -unfortunate country groaning under a foreign, hated yoke to taint his -simple soul with the foul breath of intrigue? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI</a></h4> - -<p> -Walking across the lawn toward the château half an hour later, Rosemary -found herself once more laughing at her own suspicions of Peter. Peter! -Heavens above! what turn were her suspicions taking? -</p> - -<p> -Did she really believe for one moment that Peter was intriguing with -these crafty Roumanians for the undoing or the persecution of his own -kith and kin? The very thought was preposterous. The suggestion -untenable. Whatever Jasper might think, whatever he might fear, she, -Rosemary, was nothing but a traitor if she allowed herself for one -moment to harbour such thoughts of Peter. -</p> - -<p> -He was changed, certainly he was changed. But between that and Jasper's -suspicions——! It was Jasper who had first put thoughts into -Rosemary's head by extracting that strange promise from her. Not to talk to -Peter. Not to discuss the situation with Peter. Otherwise she would never -for one moment—— -</p> - -<p> -Of course, of course, the thought was preposterous. Peter and intrigue! -Peter and crafty Machiavellism! Peter and a double game he was ashamed -to avow! Why, reason should have rejected the first hint of such a -possibility, even if loyalty did not. -</p> - -<p> -"Hallo, Rosemary!" -</p> - -<p> -Peter's voice brought Rosemary back to reality. She had wandered up the -veranda steps, hardly conscious of where she was. Thank Heaven, after -her musings she was able to look Peter loyally in the face. He had his -hands buried as usual in the pockets of his trousers, and the inevitable -cigarette between his lips. Rosemary felt hot and tired; the sun had -been baking the lawn while she walked across it, and she had no parasol. -With a contented little sigh she sank into the basket chair that Peter -pulled forward for her. -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose," he said abruptly, "that they have been telling you about -the nonsense that's going on in their dear, silly heads." -</p> - -<p> -And with a nod he indicated the summer-house, where, against the -creeper-clad entrance, Elza's white dress gleamed in the sunshine. -Rosemary made no reply. Peter's words had somehow acted like a douche of -cold water upon her sense of rest and well-being. It was true then! He -did know. Though Elza and Anna had told him nothing, he knew. How? -Rosemary would have given worlds for the right to ask him, but suddenly -her promise to Jasper loomed before her with paramount importance, and -put a seal upon her lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you tell me?" Peter insisted. -</p> - -<p> -Of course there was a simple explanation for the whole thing. Those dear -people, Elza, Maurus, even Anna, were not models of discretion. Their -voices were loud and penetrating, and, when they were excited about any -project or event, they would discuss it here, there and everywhere at -the top of their voices, and with a total disregard of possible -eavesdroppers. Peter's knowledge of Elza's plans may have come about -quite innocently. Rosemary was quite sure it had come about innocently. -But somehow she longed for that perfect security and trust in Peter -which she used to feel even when he was most capricious and his -love-making most tempestuous. Why hadn't he told Elza that he knew? Why, -instead of discussing the plan over with Elza or one of the others, did -he feign ignorance with them, and suddenly elect to go away on an -obviously futile excuse? -</p> - -<p> -Oh, how Rosemary hated all this mystery! And how she feared it! And how, -above all, she hated that promise which she had made to Jasper, and -which prevented her at this moment from having a straight talk with -Peter. -</p> - -<p> -"So you won't tell me?" he reiterated, and his voice sounded curiously -harsh, quite different to his usual very pleasant, musical tones. Peter -had the voice of a musician. It was deep in tone and beautifully -modulated. Peter's voice had been one of the things about him that had -captivated Rosemary's fancy in the past. Now, he spoke through his -teeth, with that hateful cigarette in the long holder held between the -comers of his lips. Rosemary tried to be flippant. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear me!" she exclaimed, with a little broken laugh, "are you trying to -play the <i>rôle</i> of the heavy father, Peter, or of the silent strong -man? And now you are frowning just like the hero in one of Ethel M. -Dell's books. When are you going to seize me by the wrist and whack me -with a slipper?" -</p> - -<p> -It was very easy to make Peter laugh. He was laughing now, and the scowl -fled for the moment from his face. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't play the fool, Rosemary," he said in his slangy, boyish way. -"Tell me what Aunt Elza has been saying to you out here?" -</p> - -<p> -"But, you silly boy," she riposted, "there's nothing to tell." -</p> - -<p> -Back came the scowl on Peter's face, darker than before. -</p> - -<p> -"So," he said curtly, "I suppose that you and Aunt Elza and Anna have -been discussing frocks for the past hour and a half." -</p> - -<p> -"No, dear," she replied coolly, "only the arrangements for to-morrow's -ball." -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon Peter said "Damn!" and swung round on his heel, as if he meant -to leave her there without another word. But for this move of his -Rosemary was unprepared. She did not want Peter to go. Not just yet. She -was perfectly loyal to him in her thoughts, and she was irrevocably -determined not to break her promise to Jasper, but she was not going to -let Peter go off to-day without some sort of explanation. She might not -see him again after this—for weeks, for months, for years! So she -called him back. -</p> - -<p> -"Peter!" she cried. -</p> - -<p> -He swung back and returned to her side. His deep, changeful eyes, which -at times were the colour of the ocean on the Cornish coast, and at -others recalled the dark tints of his Hungarian ancestors, looked -strangely resentful still. But as his glance rested on Rosemary, -wandered from her delicate face in the pearly shadow of her garden hat, -along the contour of her graceful body in repose, down to the tips of -her dainty white shoes, the resentful look fled. And Rosemary, glancing -up, caught a momentary flash of that soul-holding gaze which had taken -her captive that lovely night in June by the river, when she had lain -crushed and bruised in his arms, the gaze which that other night in the -Albert Hall box had filled her soul with abiding regret. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you want me to tell you, Peter?" she asked in that stupid way -that comes to the lips when the soul is stirred and the mind commands -self-control. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing," he replied roughly, "that you don't want to." -</p> - -<p> -"Peter," she retorted, "why are you so strange with me? One would think -I had done something to offend you. You scarcely will speak to me; when -you do you are so rough and so abrupt, as if—as if——Oh, I -don't know," she went on rapidly, and her voice shook a little as she tried -to avoid that memory-conjuring glance of his. "It seems as if something had -come between us, almost as if we were enemies." -</p> - -<p> -Peter laughed at this, but his laugh sounded rather forced and harsh. -</p> - -<p> -"Enemies!" he exclaimed. "Good God, no!" -</p> - -<p> -"But something has happened, Peter," she insisted. "I cannot tell you -how I find you changed." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," he said curtly, "something did happen, you know, when you -married Jasper." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't mean that, Peter. I saw you in London after I was engaged, and -you had not changed then. It is here—in this place—that you -seem so different." -</p> - -<p> -"You must admit the place gets on one's nerves," he said with a shrug. -</p> - -<p> -"You must make allowances, Peter," she rejoined gently. "They are in -such trouble." -</p> - -<p> -"Are they?" he retorted. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, you know they are!" And her voice rang with a note of indignant -reproach. "How can you ask?" -</p> - -<p> -"I ask because I don't know. You say that they—I suppose you mean -Aunt Elza and Maurus and the kids—are in trouble. How should I -know what you mean? Since I've been here they have done nothing but -shout, dance and make plans for more dancing and shouting, and when I -ask you anything you only tell me lies." -</p> - -<p> -"Peter!" -</p> - -<p> -"I beg your pardon, dear," he said with sudden gentleness. "I didn't -mean to be caddish. But you know," he went on, harshly once more, "you -did tell me that Jasper had gone to Budapest on business." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" she queried. -</p> - -<p> -"Well! Knowing you to be truthful by nature, I am wondering why you -should have told me such an unnecessary lie." Then, as Rosemary was -silent, he insisted: "Won't you tell me, Rosemary?" -</p> - -<p> -"You are talking nonsense, Peter," she replied obstinately. "There is -nothing to tell." -</p> - -<p> -"Which means that Jasper has told you—or insinuated—that I am -not to be trusted." -</p> - -<p> -She protested: "Certainly not!" -</p> - -<p> -"Then," he concluded, "the mistrust comes out of your own heart." -</p> - -<p> -"That again is nonsense, Peter. There is no question of trust or -mistrust, and I have no idea what you mean. It is you who try to deceive -me by feigning ignorance of what is going on in this house. If Aunt Elza -has not spoken openly with you, it certainly is not for me to enlighten -you. There," she added, as she caught a look of eager questioning in his -eyes, "I have already said more than I have any right to say. Elza and -Anna are coming across the lawn. If you want to know anything more, you -had better ask them." -</p> - -<p> -And abruptly she rose and left him and went into the house. She felt -hurt and angry and not a little ashamed. She felt hurt with Peter, angry -with Jasper and ashamed of herself. Peter was quite right. She had told -him lies—unnecessary lies. And Jasper had forced her to tell them and -to be disloyal to Peter. The present situation was a false one, utterly -false. It was Peter who should take over the direction of Elza's plan. -With his help the chances of Philip's and Anna's escape would be -increased ten-fold. It seemed an awful thing—it was an awful -thing—that he should be shut out of Elza's councils, that he should -go away on a futile and trivial errand while those of his own kith and kin -were in such terrible danger, and running into dangers that were worse -still. -</p> - -<p> -For the last time the temptation returned, and with double violence, to -break her promise to Jasper and go straight back to Peter and tell him -everything. She paused in the centre of the drawing-room and looked back -through the wide-open glass doors. Peter was still on the veranda. He -had picked up a stick and a tennis ball and was hitting the one with the -other and humming a tune. He caught Rosemary's eye as she glanced back -to look at him. -</p> - -<p> -"Hallo!" he called gaily. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary went deliberately back to the glass door. She paused under the -lintel; then she said earnestly: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't go to Hódmezö to-day, Peter. I am sure there is no necessity -for you to go. You can book rooms by telephone, and, anyway——" -She paused a moment and then went on more earnestly still: "Wait another -twenty-four hours, Peter. Don't go till—till after the ball." -</p> - -<p> -Peter did not look at her. He was taking careful aim with the stick and -the tennis ball. He made a swinging hit and watched the ball fly away -over the lawn. Then he threw the stick down and turned to Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -"Sorry," he said lightly, "but I have promised." -</p> - -<p> -She gave an impatient sigh, and after another second's hesitation once -more turned to go. -</p> - -<p> -"I say," he called after her, "what about a game of tennis? There's just -time for a set before I need make a start." -</p> - -<p> -But by now all temptation to talk openly with Peter had vanished. What -would be the use of telling this irresponsible boy anything? Jasper was -right. Elza was right. Only she, Rosemary, was foolish, and her vaunted -knowledge of human nature nothing but vanity. She had only sufficient -self-control left to call back lightly to him: -</p> - -<p> -"No, thank you, Peter, I am rather tired." -</p> - -<p> -Then she fled precipitately out of the room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary did not see Peter again before he left. Somehow that last -vision which she had of him, hitting at a rubber ball with a stick, and -his utterly callous suggestion of a game of tennis at an hour which he -must have known was fateful to all his kindred, had caused a revulsion -in Rosemary's heart. She felt that never again would she feel tempted to -break her work to Jasper. Indeed, she felt how right Jasper had been all -along in insisting that she should not discuss the grave events that -affected the lives of all the inmates of Kis-Imre with such a callous, -empty-headed, irresponsible young jackanapes as Peter had lately become. -</p> - -<p> -So she had gone upstairs to her room, and with a curious heartache, for -which she was unable to account, she listened to the familiar bustle and -noise that always filled the château whenever visitors came or went. -Somehow she could not bring herself to say "Good-bye" to Peter. Elza had -told her that he would be coming back within the next week or so, but -Rosemary, who felt too tired for introspection, could not have told you -whether she was glad or sorry at the prospect of seeing him again quite -so soon. -</p> - -<p> -The rest of the day, as well as the long, interminable evening, were -taken up with the discussion of household affairs—the luncheon, the -dinner, the ball, and even into these Philip and Anna entered -whole-heartedly and with apparent complete disregard of what that fateful -morrow might bring them. As for Elza, she was perfectly marvellous! -Kind, fussy as usual, her menus and the airing of the guest-rooms being, -to all appearances, the most important matters in her mind. -</p> - -<p> -After everyone had gone to bed little Anna came to Rosemary's room and -sat for a while beside her on the sofa, holding the Englishwoman's hand -as if she wished to transfuse through those slender fingers strength and -courage into her soul. When Rosemary made a passing allusion to the -wonderful stoicism that could allow trivial matters to seem so important -at a moment when life and worse were at stake, Anna explained quite -gently: -</p> - -<p> -"We are made like that, we Hungarians. We hold our lives cheap, I think, -because throughout our history we have always had to sacrifice them for -our country. And also, I think, that we have a certain Oriental fatalism -in us. Not the fatalism of the Moslem, who abdicates free will, but the -faith of the Christian who believes that God ordains everything and that -it is useless to fight His decrees." -</p> - -<p> -"And yet you are not a religious people," Rosemary riposted, thinking of -what Elza had said to her the night before. -</p> - -<p> -"Only in the sense that children are religious," Anna rejoined. "We -accept blindly what some kind nuns and ignorant priests have taught us, -and we believe in an Almighty God more absolutely and ingenuously than -the more thoughtful people of the West." -</p> - -<p> -Long after Anna had gone Rosemary thought over what the child had said. -Well, perhaps it was true. There certainly was an exquisitely beautiful -passage in the New Testament where the Divine Master enjoins his -disciples to become as little children. And, recollecting Anna's words, -Rosemary caught herself wondering whether the childlike faith of these -people here would not open the Kingdom of Heaven more easily for them -than would a more considered, more rational religion—a compromise -between a very erring human reason and the Divine Mysteries which no -human thought could fathom. -</p> - -<p> -As for the next day, it was just a whirl, a jumble of gaieties and talk, -of arrivals and merry greetings, of meals and tennis and walks, and of -talk, talk, talk and endless laughter. Rosemary, when she rose, had made -up her mind that she would just shed her real personality for the whole -of the day. She would cease to be Rosemary with the aching heart, the -soul rent by conflicting duties, by anxieties, determination and sorrow; -she would become the "dear Lady Tarkington," the "Rosemary darling" of -all these kind, hospitable, wonderful people. She would laugh with them, -play with them, and with them lay aside for the next few hours the -torturing anxiety of the day. -</p> - -<p> -She would forget, she would laugh, she would talk. The effort would do -her good, and when the hour came when the fate of all those she cared -for would have to be decided, when on one word, one smile, would perhaps -hang the destiny of Philip and of Anna, then she would be strong enough -to play the part allotted to her in the tragic farce—the farce that -had found birth in the brain of a heart-broken mother. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII</a></h4> - -<p> -And it had been a wonderful day. The weather was perfect. Every one was -in the highest possible spirits. The chef surpassed himself; every one -pronounced the lobster à l'Américaine perfect and the Charlotte Russe -Créole quite inimitable. -</p> - -<p> -All afternoon tennis balls were flying, and there was coffee, ices and -iced drinks going all day on the lawn. At five o'clock the gipsy -musicians from Bonczhida arrived, and after that music never ceased. -Rosemary learned something of gipsy endurance that day, for this band of -twelve musicians never left off playing from the moment they arrived -until—until midnight, when time ceased to be and Fate began to swing -her long pendulum. -</p> - -<p> -But between five o'clock and midnight there was music, ceaseless music. -While the guests arrived, while everyone played tennis, croquet, drank -coffee, walked, flirted, dressed, dined and danced there was -music—music all the time. -</p> - -<p> -After dinner the young Roumanian officers from the garrison at Cluj came -over in several motors. Among them were the eleven cricketers, very -proud of themselves, feeling quite English and real sportsmen, delighted -to have been chosen to play in the historic match. Fine-looking young -men, most of them, with the unmistakable swaggering air of the conqueror -about their whole attitude towards the subject race. Elza was invariably -a perfect hostess; but Maurus, after a curt greeting, nursed his wrath -in a corner of the ballroom, surrounded by his own friends. He had been -drilled to keep his temper in check, and love for his only son, anxiety -for him and knowledge of danger gave him for this one evening a certain -amount of self-control. Rosemary admired him as much as she did the -others, for she knew what it cost Maurus to have these alien conquerors -in his house. -</p> - -<p> -Anna's mother and sister had come over from Ujlak. The mother was a hard -woman, obviously selfish and unsympathetic. Her own grievances, the -confiscation of a great deal of her property, seemed to have smothered -every soft, womanly instinct in her. Apparently she knew nothing of the -danger that hung over her daughter, and Rosemary had the feeling that if -she had known she would not greatly have cared. Her eyes, which were -dark and set very wide apart in a flat, colourless face, only softened -once, and that was when she spoke about her husband, who had died just -before the war. -</p> - -<p> -As for persecutions, humiliations, petty tyrannies, she dismissed them -with a shrug of the shoulders. "The Roumanians are the scum of the -earth," she said in her quiet, unemotional manner, through her thin, -colourless lips, "just a horde of uneducated peasantry; you can't expect -anything from a pig but a grunt. I am only thankful that Béla is not -here to see it all." -</p> - -<p> -On the other hand, the young people who filled the stately château of -Kis-Imre with their flutterings like an army of gaily-painted -butterflies did not worry about political grievances. For them the -Roumanian officers were just dancing-partners, and their worth was only -measured by their proficiency in the latest steps. The mammas and papas -either played bridge or sat on the chairs that were ranged against the -walls all round the beautiful ballroom placidly admiring the evolutions -of their own progeny. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary, not to be outdone in self-discipline, was outwardly as gay as -any of them. She danced impartially with the Hungarians and the -Roumanians, and talked cricket knowledgeably with the team. For her the -atmosphere was electrical. At times it seemed to her over-strained -senses as if she could hear the whir of the spinning-wheel driven by the -Fates, the hum of the spindle, and the click of their scissors as they -made ready to cut the thread of these people's destiny. -</p> - -<p> -Just before midnight the young Roumanian officers who formed the cricket -team left in the two motor-cars which were to take them direct to -Hódmezö, a matter of ninety odd miles. Rosemary found herself saying -good-bye to them like an automaton—counting them over as if they were -ninepins. A kind of mist was before her eyes through which their -good-looking faces seemed to be grinning at her, and their moustaches -bristling like Alice's Cheshire cat. -</p> - -<p> -Elza, wonderful as ever, fussed around them, stuffing delicacies into -the cars at the last moment, fruit, bottles of wine, cakes, chocolates, -and lending them rugs and cushions. -</p> - -<p> -"It is a long drive," she said, as she shook hands one by one with the -young officers, who clicked their heels together, jingled their spurs -and declared that they had had a very pleasant evening. "You will be -hungry when you get to Hódmezö," she added, "and all the restaurants -will be closed. You will be glad of a glass of wine and some of my -home-made cake." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary was standing next to Maurus Imrey at the time. She heard him -mutter between his teeth: -</p> - -<p> -"And may it choke you when you eat and drink." -</p> - -<p> -But even Maurus was wonderful. Wonderful! He shook hands. He -smiled—wryly; but he smiled. Wished them all God-speed. He had been -well drilled, and he was fully conscious of the danger to Philip and -Anna if he lost control over his temper now. -</p> - -<p> -So he, too, gave directions for putting provisions into the cars. He had -four bottles of French red wine in his cellar and he insisted that the -young officers should have those. "It will make them play that silly -cricket better," he said. "And I hate the stuff myself." -</p> - -<p> -The four men who were going with the team as servants were there -arranging the rugs, stowing the wine and fruit and cake in the cars. -Rosemary knew the two sons of Jànos, the miller, by sight. They were -fine, well-set-up young fellows, obviously of the stuff that heroes are -made of, for they were going to risk their lives for the children of -their feudal lords. -</p> - -<p> -Anna, equally self-possessed, flitted among the guests like a little -fairy. She had on a pale blue dress, and out in the open her slim figure -was hardly distinguishable in the gloom; only her small, white face told -as if carved out of alabaster: that dear little face, with the big eyes -that were so like Peter's. When she was saying "good-bye" to one of the -young officers, who had been her dancing-partner, she said with a pout: -</p> - -<p> -"I think it was horrid of you to telephone to Peter Blakeney yesterday -and take him away from us. I don't believe you would have had any -difficulty with the hotel people about your rooms. And, anyway, you -might have let Peter have another day's enjoyment." -</p> - -<p> -The young man appeared genuinely bewildered. -</p> - -<p> -"Will the gracious lady deign to explain?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, there is nothing to explain," Anna said, with a light laugh. "We -were all of us very angry with you for sending that telephone message -which took Peter Blakeney away from us." -</p> - -<p> -"But pardon me, dear lady," the officer rejoined, "we didn't send any -telephone message to Monsieur Blakeney. As a matter of fact, we fully -expected to find him here." -</p> - -<p> -"But about your rooms——?" Anna insisted. -</p> - -<p> -"Our rooms at Hódmezö have been arranged for ages ago. Everything -there is in perfect order and——" -</p> - -<p> -"Anna, dear," Rosemary broke in quickly, "Peter didn't say who sent him -the telephone message. He only said that he had one. It may have come -from Hódmezö—from one of the hotel people—he didn't -say——" -</p> - -<p> -What had prompted Rosemary to interpose at this moment she did not know. -It was just an instinct: the blind instinct to protect, to shield Peter -from something ugly and vague, that she had not yet had time to see -clearly, and Anna then went on lightly: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, of course he didn't say. Anyway, when you see Peter, tell him he -was very silly to go away, and that he missed a great deal by not being -here to-night. You can tell him that Marie never danced so well in all -her life, and the gipsies from Bonczhida simply surpassed themselves." -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon the young officer clicked his heels and promised that he would -deliver the message. -</p> - -<p> -"But we shan't see Monsieur Blakeney," he said, "until the evening. You -know the match is not until Thursday. Monsieur Blakeney arranged to meet -us in Hódmezö on Wednesday evening, and this is only Tuesday." -</p> - -<p> -"It will be Wednesday morning before we start," one of his friends broke -in lightly, "if you don't hurry, you old chatterbox." -</p> - -<p> -After that, more "good-byes" and waving of hands as the motor-cars -rounded the courtyard and finally swung out of the gates. Rosemary -looked round to catch sight of Elza. She was quite placid, and on her -dear, round face there was a set smile. Evidently she was unconscious of -the fact that something stupendous had happened, something that had hit -Rosemary on the head like a blow from a sledgehammer. No, no! Elza had -not noticed. Elza's mind was no longer here. It was way out upon the -dusty road, watching a motor-car travelling at full speed over the -frontier away from this land of bondage, to Hungary to freedom. Elza had -noticed nothing. Anna and Philip were still laughing and chattering, -Maurus muttering curses. No one had noticed anything. Only for Rosemary -had the world—her own beautiful world of truth and loyalty—come -to an end. Peter had lied. Peter was playing a double game. It was no use -arguing, no use hoping. The only thing to do was to go on groping in -this mystery that deepened and deepened, until it became tangible, -material like a thick, dark fog through which glided ghouls and demons -who whispered and laughed. And they whispered and laughed because Peter -had lied and because she, Rosemary, saw all her hopes, her faith, her -ideals lying shattered in a tangled heap at her feet. Peter had lied. He -had acted a lie. He told her that he had promised to go to Hódmezö to -see about rooms for the cricket team. Well, that was not true. Rosemary -had interposed, made some excuse for Peter. She wouldn't have those -Roumanians think that Peter was a liar. They would have smiled, -suggested some amorous intrigue which Monsieur Blakeney wished to keep -dark. At the thought Rosemary's gorge rose, and she put in a lame -defence for Peter. But all the time she knew that he had lied. If Peter -did not go to Hódmezö yesterday, where was he now? Why all this -secrecy? These lies? -</p> - -<p> -Why? Oh, God, why? -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had found a quiet corner in the hall where she could sit and -think for a moment. Yet thinking was the one thing she could not do. -Always, at every turn she was confronted with that hideous query: Why -had Peter lied? After a while she had to give up trying to think. Fate's -spindle was whirring, the scissors clinking. She, Rosemary, a mere atom -in the hands of Fate, must continue to play her part. -</p> - -<p> -A quarter of an hour must have gone by while she sat—trying to -think—in the dark. Perhaps more. Anyway, when she returned to the -ballroom she found the company much diminished in numbers. All the -Roumanian officers had gone, also one large party who lived just the -other side of Cluj. Only a few remained whose châteaux were too far -away for a midnight start, seeing that motors were forbidden to the -conquered race. They were going to spend the night at Kis-Imre, and -probably make a start in the morning. The young people had already -resumed dancing; the gipsies were playing the latest fox-trot. The -mammas and papas were placidly admiring their respective progeny. -</p> - -<p> -All this Rosemary took in at a glance. -</p> - -<p> -Then she looked round for Elza. But neither Elza nor Maurus was there. -And Philip and Anna had also gone. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV</a></h4> - -<p> -A few minutes later Elza came back. To Rosemary, who had been watching -for her by the door, she just whispered as she entered: "It is all -right. They have gone." -</p> - -<p> -She still was wonderful. Quite calm and with that set smile on her face. -Only her round, blue eyes had an unusual glitter, and the pretty -silvered hair clung matted against the smooth, white brow. Rosemary -watched the scene, now entranced. She had never seen anything like it. -It did not seem reality at all. It could not be. All these people here -were just puppets and they were play-acting. They could not have behaved -as they did if they had been real. -</p> - -<p> -There were no longer any Roumanians there. They were all Hungarians -together—just a few of them, all from Transylvania, the wretched, -occupied territory, in which everybody was something of a slave, never -allowed to forget for an instant that they were the defeated, and that -they must submit. All were relatives or else very intimate friends. And, -after a while, they began to notice that Philip and Anna were not there. -At first they asked questions. Where were Philip and Anna? Elza said -nothing. She only gave an answering look here and there, a quiver of the -eyelid and certain setting of the lips. She did not say anything, but it -was remarkable how everybody understood. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary watched every face and knew that they understood. They asked no -more questions. They accepted the situation. Philip and Anna had gone. -They had to go as countless others, who had to fly at dead of night, get -the other side of the frontier as quickly as possible, to escape from -military tribunal, chicanery, persecution, or even death. -</p> - -<p> -It was late now, long past midnight. The gipsies had been sent -downstairs to get some supper. The mammas and papas declared that it was -time to go to bed. The young people thanked dear Aunt Elza for such a -happy time, the young men kissed her hand. One or two of the older -people whispered: "Good luck!" Others said reassuringly: "Don't fret, -they will be all right." Never a question about Philip and Anna. Never a -comment. They knew. They understood. -</p> - -<p> -Orders were given for the carriages to be ready at nine o'clock the next -morning. With the innate delicacy that underlay so much apparent -pleasure-loving, they wished to relieve as soon as practicable this -house of sorrow from the burden of their presence. -</p> - -<p> -By half-past twelve ballroom, hall, reception-rooms were all empty. Elza -waited downstairs till the last of the servants had gone. Rosemary -helped her at the last to put the gold service away in the strong -cupboard. It consisted of half a dozen pieces of great artistic beauty -and equally great value. Each piece had to be wrapped up in cotton wool -and green baize. Elza did it all, and Rosemary could see that her podgy, -white hands did not tremble, and that she put every piece away with her -usual meticulous care. Only when her task was accomplished and there was -nothing more to do but to switch off the light, did Elza's stoicism give -way. She sank into a chair, her head fell back against the cushions, and -a leaden tint spread over her cheeks and lips. Rosemary quickly poured -some brandy into a glass, and kneeling beside her tried to get her to -drink some of it. To please her, Elza sipped a few drops. A wan smile -spread over her face. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't worry about me, Rosemary darling," she said, "I am quite well." -</p> - -<p> -She jumped up at once and added: "I must see how poor Maurus is." -</p> - -<p> -"Come into my room afterwards," Rosemary suggested, "and rest there on -the sofa. I know you won't sleep." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," Elza replied, "I will come as soon as I can get Maurus to sleep. -I think he may get to sleep presently. But I don't think I shall. You -see, we ought to get a telephone message through from Hódmezö the -first thing in the morning. Philip and I agreed on a code. If everything -is all right he is to give Peter Blakeney's name and say that the -weather is beautiful in Hungary, and every arrangement for the cricket -match splendid. After I get that message I shall probably sleep." -</p> - -<p> -She had toiled up the stairs while she was talking, and Rosemary -followed close behind her, ready to catch her if she swooned. -</p> - -<p> -"I won't say 'good night' now," Elza said when she neared her bedroom -door. "You go to bed, Rosemary darling, and I will come in presently for -a little talk when Maurus is asleep." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary went into her room. She undid her hair and slipped into a -dressing-gown. It was no use going to bed; she knew she would not be -able to go to sleep. It was just a case of waiting. Of watching, of -praying, and commending those two young creatures to God. Watching and -praying, with eyes fixed upon the hands of the clock, following in -imagination every phase of to-night's adventures. Every detail. At this -hour they would be at the mill, all the actors in the drama which poor -Elza had invented. Philip and Anna would be there, changing into -peasants' clothes, and Jànos the miller would be setting out the mugs -and the spirit, which would make the Jew's son and the brother of the -Roumanian storekeeper blind to the world. Old Emma would be there too, -the miller's wife, the mother of the two boys who were going to risk so -much for Philip's sake and Anna's. Emma would be fussing round with -cloth and duster. Grumbling and fussing. Knowing nothing of the drama on -which the curtain would ring up in the parlour of her cottage, and in -which her two sons would be playing leading rôles. Jànos would not -have told her. He, the father, had agreed to it all; had even suggested -it. But the mother? No! If she knew she would protest. Weep, of course. -Weaken the resolution of the two boys who just had to go through with it -all. -</p> - -<p> -And now the motor would be drawing up at the mill, and Jànos the miller -would ask the company to walk in and have a drink. Even the motor-driver -would be persuaded. Just a drop of spirit as it was a long drive all the -way to Hódmezö. Time was moving leaden-footed up here in the château. -But not so at the mill while Janos was telling funny stories and plying -his guests with drink. Leaden-footed! My God! how slowly did those clock -hands move! Only half an hour gone by since Elza had switched oil all -the lights, and the whole château was plunged in darkness, and every -sound was stilled. -</p> - -<p> -So still! Only the ticking of the clock, and at times the click of the -scissors of Fate, ready to cut the thread of two young lives—or more, -perhaps—if anything went wrong, if the slightest mistake was made, if -any one man proved disloyal—or a liar. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary shuddered although the night was hot. She could not sit still. -At times she felt that she could not breathe. She went out upon the -balcony and listened. Listened. The air was so still that she felt she -must hear presently the whir of the motor when it made a fresh start -from the mill half a mile away. Far away on the hillside a fox gave a -cry, and from the old thatched barn close by came the melancholy hoot of -an owl. -</p> - -<p> -Then the village church clock struck the half-hour. Half-past one. More -than an hour since Rosemary, going into the ballroom, had noted that -Philip and Anna were no longer there. In one of the homesteads on the -outskirts of the village a cock crew. In another two hours dawn would be -breaking, and the motor was to be in Hódmezö before sunrise. And -suddenly Rosemary heard right through the stillness a crepitation and -then a whir. And then the whirring died away very gradually, and -stillness reigned once more. Absolute! -</p> - -<p> -"They've started!" -</p> - -<p> -It was Elza's voice close to Rosemary's elbow. Rosemary had not heard -her timid knock, and Elza had slipped into the room and now stood by the -open window, listening. The voice was quite calm, with just a ring in it -of exultation rather than excitement. Rosemary took her hand. It was -quite cold. She fondled it and warmed it between her own. -</p> - -<p> -There was a wicker chair on the balcony and some cushions. Rosemary made -Elza sit down, and then she piled up the cushions and squatted on them -at Elza's feet, fondling her hands and caressing them by laying her -young, velvety cheek against them. -</p> - -<p> -The night was exquisitely beautiful, with the waning moon, mysterious -and honey-coloured in a firmament shimmering with stars. In the borders -the flowers slept, the evening primroses had folded their golden petals, -the scarlet pentstemons hidden their brilliance in the gloom; only the -heliotrope and the Nicotiana swung their censers, lazily sending their -heady perfume through the night, and the white tufted pansies shone like -numberless tiny mirrors, reflecting the stars. -</p> - -<p> -"Did Maurus get to sleep?" Rosemary asked after a while. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," Elza replied. "I gave him a cachet of aspirin. It quieted his -nerves, and after a while he went to sleep." -</p> - -<p> -"Won't you just dose your eyes, Elza, and try to rest a little? The -night is young yet, and I am afraid you'll be ill if you don't get a -little rest. You've gone through so much!" -</p> - -<p> -"Presently, darling," Elza said quietly. "I dare say I shall drop to -sleep, as I am very tired. But not just yet. I would like to stay here a -little longer—unless I am bothering you." Then as Rosemary gave her -knees an affectionate hug, she went on gently: "I love the smell of -flowers in the night, don't you? They smell quite differently to what -they do in the daytime." And presently she went on <i>à propos</i> of -nothing at all: -</p> - -<p> -"There is just one difficult place where the driver might miss his way. -That would delay them a little, but even so they should be very near the -frontier by now." -</p> - -<p> -"Have you arranged to get any news?" Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Philip is to telephone from Hódmezö as soon as the office is open." -</p> - -<p> -"You won't hear before then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. I told Jànos to say to the motor-driver that if he will drive -straight back here from Hódmezö there will be a thousand leis for him, -and if he gets here before eight o'clock then he will get two thousand." -</p> - -<p> -After the village church clock had struck three Elza became very still, -but Rosemary did not think that she was actually asleep. Her hands were -very cold, and her breath came and went more rapidly than usual. -Rosemary rose noiselessly to her feet, she got the eiderdown from her -bed and wrapped it round Elza's knees. Elza did not move. Her pretty -round face showed very white in the light of the waning moon, and all -her hair seemed to have lost its golden tint and shimmered like threads -of silver. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary went back into the room and lay down on the sofa. The air was -very close, and she was very tired, so tired that she must have fallen -asleep. Presently something roused her and she opened her eyes. The room -was flooded with the golden light of dawn. She jumped to her feet and -went to the window. Elza was not on the balcony; but Rosemary, looking -over the balustrade, saw her on the veranda about to descend the steps. -</p> - -<p> -"Elza," she called down softly, "wait for me." -</p> - -<p> -Elza nodded acquiescence, and Rosemary ran downstairs just as she was, -in dressing-gown and slippers, with her hair all hanging loosely round -her shoulders. Elza had waited on the veranda for her quite patiently; -she linked her arm in Rosemary's. -</p> - -<p> -"You were able to sleep a little, darling," she said. "I am so glad." -</p> - -<p> -"And what about you, Elza?" Rosemary retorted. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, I slept quite nicely," Elza replied in her quiet, simple way, -"until the dawn closed the eyes of the night one by one, and the moon -went down behind the old acacia trees." -</p> - -<p> -"I quite forgot to look at the time," Rosemary rejoined. -</p> - -<p> -"It was half-past four when I left your room. I went to have a peep at -Maurus. He is still asleep." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God for that. He will only wake to hear the good news." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary could no longer keep the excitement out of her voice. Another -two or three hours and this terrible suspense would be over. She hardly -dared to look at Elza, for she felt the dear creature's body quivering -against hers. The first glance had shown her Elza's face the colour of -ashes, with swollen eyelids and red hectic spots on her cheek-bones. But -outwardly she was still quite calm, and when together they reached the -dew-wet lawn she threw back her head and with obvious delight drank in -the sweet morning air. -</p> - -<p> -"It is astonishing," she said, "that one should be able to sleep -when—when things happen like they did to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"You were dog-tired, Elza, and the air was so wonderfully balmy and -soothing. I think," Rosemary went on gently, "that God sent down a -couple of his guardian angels to fan you to sleep with their wings." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps," Elza assented with a tired smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Do you feel like a walk, as far as the perennial border?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why, yes. I should love it. And we still have hours to kill." -</p> - -<p> -Already sounds of awakening village life filled the morning with their -welcome strains. The fox and the owl were silent, but two cocks gave -answer to one another, and from the homesteads and the farms came a -lowing and a bleating and a barking, the beasts rousing the humans to -activity, and calling them to the work of the day. -</p> - -<p> -As Elza's and Rosemary's footsteps crunched the gravel of the path, -Mufti, the big sheep-dog, and Karo, the greyhound, came from nowhere in -particular, bounding across the lawn, and threw themselves in the -exuberance of their joy upon these two nice humans who had shortened the -lonely morning hours for them. -</p> - -<p> -"Let's go and see the moss-roses," Rosemary suggested, "and see if they -smell as sweet as they did in the night." -</p> - -<p> -They walked on to the end of the perennial border, where two or three -clumps of moss-roses nestled at the foot of a tall crimson Rugosa laden -with blossom. -</p> - -<p> -"Dear little things," Elza said. "They are my favourite flowers. I like -them so much better than all those wonderful new roses that get the -prizes at the horticultural shows." -</p> - -<p> -She stooped to inhale the fragrance of the roses, and while she was -stooping a faint, very distant whirring sound became audible, which grew -in volume every moment. Just for the space of one second Elza did not -move; she remained just as she was, stooping, and with her face buried -in the roses. Then she straightened out her fine figure and grasped -Rosemary's hand. -</p> - -<p> -"The motor," she said huskily. "Let us go." -</p> - -<p> -The end of the perennial border where they were was nearly a quarter of -a mile away from the house, and then there was the house to get round, -the courtyard to cross——The whirring grew louder every moment, -then slower, and then it ceased. The car had come to a halt, but not in -front of the gates which were still closed. Rosemary and Elza were in the -courtyard with Mufti and Karo jumping about them and getting in the way. -The motor was not in sight. -</p> - -<p> -"Down, Mufti! Karo, down!" Elza kept repeating mechanically. -</p> - -<p> -She was rather breathless after that race across the garden. Rosemary -ran to the lodge to call Feri, the night-watchman, who had the keys of -the gate. He had heard the dogs barking and the voice of the gracious -countess, so he was on the doorstep wondering what had brought the -ladies out at this hour of the morning. -</p> - -<p> -"Quick, Feri, open the gates!" Rosemary called to him. -</p> - -<p> -It took Feri a few moments to get the keys to unlock the gates. An -eternity. -</p> - -<p> -From the direction of the village there had come a loud cry, followed -after a few seconds by shouts and the sound of men running. Running and -shouting, and now and then another shrill cry. -</p> - -<p> -"Run ahead quickly, Feri," Rosemary whispered to the watchman. "Quickly, -see what it is." -</p> - -<p> -She held Elza's hand in a tight clutch, and under her arm. But even so -Elza succeeded in breaking free, and while Feri ran on ahead, she did -not lag far behind. Past the thick clump of acacias, the village street -came in sight. At the end of it, a quarter of a mile away, in front of -the inn which was kept by the Jew, a motor-car had come to a halt, and -some half-dozen peasants stood round it, gesticulating and arguing. Down -the street, from one or two of the cottages, men, women and children -came running out to see what was happening, and when they caught sight -of the gracious countess and the gracious foreign lady they paused, -bewildered. The gracious countess—at this hour in the village! Such a -thing had never happened before. The men doffed their hats, the women -hastily bobbed a curtsey, the children stood stock-still, finger in -mouth, staring. A few, bolder than the rest, ran forward to kiss the -ladies' hands. But Elza hastened on, seeing nothing, heeding nothing, -whilst Rosemary kept close by her side. Feri, as he drew near to the -inn, shouted to the people to make way. But as soon as he came in close -sight of the car he turned and hastened back to Elza. He clasped his -hands together and cried: -</p> - -<p> -"Don't come, gracious countess. Don't come! It is nothing, nothing, just -an accident, a——" -</p> - -<p> -Silently, with lips tightly pressed together, Elza pushed past him, but -Rosemary now had once more taken hold of her hand. She held Elza tight, -with one arm round her waist and the other clutching her hand. Struggle -as she might, Elza could not free herself this time. -</p> - -<p> -The next moment they stood together by the side of the motor. It was a -large, rather shabby touring car, painted a dull grey and fitted with -leather cushions. It was smothered in dust. There was no one in the back -seats, but the innkeeper was just in the act of climbing in beside the -chauffeur. The chauffeur appeared to be asleep; he sat like a huddled-up -heap, wrapped in a dirty, military coat, and with his peaked cap pulled -down over his face. The innkeeper appeared rather scared. He took hold -of the military coat and pulled it open, and immediately he clapped his -hand to his mouth, smothering a scream. The cap rolled off the -chauffeur's head, and his right arm dropped down the side of the car. -One man who stood quite near, not knowing probably that the two ladies -were there, cried excitedly: -</p> - -<p> -"God in heaven! The man has been shot—dead!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV</a></h4> - -<p> -There was no one there quite so self-possessed as Elza. Even Rosemary -had some difficulty in smothering a cry. The innkeeper jumped down from -the seat as if he had been driven away by a whip; the peasants -gesticulated and jabbered in an undertone. Rosemary looked at Elza and -clutched her hand more tightly against her own body. Elza's face was the -colour of lead, her lips looked purple, even her large, blue eyes -appeared colourless. Her hand was as cold as ice and shook in Rosemary's -strength-giving clasp. But to the eyes of all these peasants and -subordinates she appeared perfectly calm, and after a moment or two she -turned to the group of jabbering, gesticulating peasants and asked quite -quietly: -</p> - -<p> -"Which of you first saw the motor draw up?" -</p> - -<p> -"I heard the noise, gracious countess," the Jew volunteered, "as the car -drew up outside the door, and——" -</p> - -<p> -"And I saw the soldier jump down," a young labourer broke in excitedly. -"He ran——" -</p> - -<p> -"Very well," Elza said coldly. "Now you, and you," she went on and -pointed to the innkeeper and to the labourer, "come inside and tell me -what you have seen. Will you come, too, darling?" she asked Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -Finally she turned to her own man Feri: -</p> - -<p> -"One of you," she said, "had better go to the gendarmerie. They ought to -have been here by now." -</p> - -<p> -Then she went into the inn; the Jew and the labourer followed, and the -peasants, having looked their fill at the car, or else scared by that -lifeless bundle in the chauffeur's seat, crowded together in the doorway -of the inn. But Rosemary lagged behind for a moment, examining the car -as if she expected the huge, shabby thing to yield up the key of its own -mystery. But in the body of the car there was nothing, except the -cushions and the dust and the huddled figure of the dead chauffeur, with -the head fallen forward on the breast, and the arm hanging over the side -of the car. Rosemary turned away from it at first with a shudder, but -almost despite her will her eyes turned back to gaze again at that -huddled-up heap and the limp arm, from beneath the coat-sleeve of which -a thin filet of blood trickled drop by drop to the ground. -</p> - -<p> -And suddenly something white and crisp fell from the lifeless hand into -the dust at Rosemary's feet. She stooped and picked it up. Fortunately -the jabberings peasants were not looking this way, and Feri had walked -off to the gendarmerie. What Rosemary had picked up was a letter -addressed to "Lady Tarkington." She tore open the envelope and read: -</p> - -<p> -"A very clumsy attempt, dear lady. As you see, it has led to no good. -Your two protégés are now under my direct care, and you have little -more than a fortnight in which to write the newspaper articles which I -want." -</p> - -<p> -The letter was signed "Naniescu." Rosemary slipped it into the pocket of -her gown, and then she went into the inn. The peasants all made way for -her, and then crowded again in the doorway, trying to hear what was -going on. Rosemary thought the long, low room one of the stuffiest and -most evil-smelling places she had ever been in. It was very dark, the -light only feebly penetrating through two tiny, unpracticable windows, -the panes of which were covered in dust. The only breath of fresh air -that could possibly find its way in would have been through the door, -but that was blocked now by a solid bundle of perspiring humanity. From -the low raftered ceiling hung strings of onions and maize, and in a -corner of the room, on a low table which was apparently used as a -counter, were numerous bottles and a number of pewter mugs. The odour in -the room was a mixture of dirt, onions, and silverium. But Elza, who sat -beside the table with the innkeeper and the peasants before her, -appeared quite unconscious of smells or dirt. She was questioning the -labourer, who apparently was the only man who had actually witnessed the -arrival of the motor-car into the village. -</p> - -<p> -"I saw it come, gracious countess," he said, with obvious pride in his -own importance, "and I saw it draw up outside here. There was a soldier -sitting near the chauffeur." -</p> - -<p> -"And he was in the driving seat?" Elza asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, gracious countess, the soldier was driving when I first saw the -car come along the road." -</p> - -<p> -"And the other man?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, gracious countess, I saw a sort of heaped-up bundle beside the -chauffeur. I did not know there was another man." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, what happened?" -</p> - -<p> -"The car slowed down, gracious countess, and drew up outside here. Then -the soldier jumped up; he stepped over the heaped-up bundle and got out -of the car." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, and then?" -</p> - -<p> -"He took the thing which I thought was just a bundle covered with a -military coat, and pushed it into the driver's seat. After that he ran -away as fast as he could." -</p> - -<p> -"In which direction?" -</p> - -<p> -"Where he had come from, gracious countess. There was another car -waiting for him there about half a kilomètre away." -</p> - -<p> -"Another car?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; I didn't see it come, but I heard it slow down and come to a halt. -The soldier ran all the way. He jumped into that other car, and it drove -away in the direction of Cluj." -</p> - -<p> -After that another man stepped in from the doorway and volunteered the -information that he had seen the second car standing about half a -kilomètre away. He had seen the soldier running, and had seen the car -drive off. He thought there was another soldier in that car. -</p> - -<p> -By that time a couple of gendarmes were on the scene. They were -conducting their own investigations of the case in a casual, perfunctory -manner. At first they took no notice of Elza or of Rosemary, talked over -their heads in a proper democratic manner; then one of them asked curtly -of Elza: -</p> - -<p> -"Did you see the car drive up?" -</p> - -<p> -Elza said: "No!" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you know anything about it?" -</p> - -<p> -Again she replied: "No!" -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon the man queried roughly: "Then what are you doing here?" -</p> - -<p> -Elza's face flushed a little, but she replied quite courteously: "We all -hoped at the castle to hear that the miller's two sons had arrived -safely at Hódmezö, and I thought that this was the car that drove them -in the night." -</p> - -<p> -The man gave a sneer and a shrug of the shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"You seem mightily concerned," he said, with a harsh laugh, "about the -miller's sons, to be out of your bed at this hour of the morning." -</p> - -<p> -He spat on the ground, turned on his heel, and once more addressed the -peasants. -</p> - -<p> -"Now, then," he said, quite genially, "all of you get back to your -homes. The Government will see about this affair, and it is no concern -of anybody's. Understand?" -</p> - -<p> -The two gendarmes waved their arms and drove the people out of the inn -and away from the door as if they were a flock of sheep. They obeyed -without murmur, only with an occasional shrug of the shoulders, as much -as to say: "Well, well, these are strange times, to be sure! But it is -no concern of ours." -</p> - -<p> -The gendarmes then went out of the inn. They moved the body of the dead -chauffeur into the body of the car; one of them got in beside it, the -other took the driver's seat, and the next moment the mysterious car had -disappeared up the village street in the direction of the gendarmerie. -</p> - -<p> -When the last of the crowd had dispersed Elza rose, and, white-faced, -wide-eyed, she turned to Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -"There is nothing more," she said, "that we can do here. Shall we go -home?" -</p> - -<p> -She nodded to the Jew, and, leaning heavily on Rosemary's arm, she went -out into the street. It was past six now, and the village was flooded -with sunlight. Elza's tired, aching eyes blinked as she came out into -the open. Rosemary would have put an arm round her to support her, for -she felt that the poor woman was ready to swoon; but mutely and firmly -Elza refused to be supported. Her pride would not allow her, even now, -to show weakness in sight of these cottages, behind the windows of which -the eyes of Roumanian peasants might be on the look-out for her. -</p> - -<p> -"They are outwardly obsequious," she said, as if in answer to a mute -remark from Rosemary. "Call me gracious countess and kiss my hand, but -at heart they hate us all, and triumph in our humiliation." -</p> - -<p> -Strange, wonderful people! Even at this hour of supreme anxiety and -acute distress, pride of caste fought every outward expression of sorrow -and conquered in the end. Elza walked through the village with a firm -step and head held quite erect. It was only when she was inside the -gates of her own home that she spoke, and even then her first thought -was for her husband. -</p> - -<p> -"How to break the news to Maurus!" she murmured under her breath. "My -God, how to break the news." -</p> - -<p> -In the hall, where Rosemary saw that they were quite alone, she put her -arms round Elza and drew her down into a low-cushioned seat. -</p> - -<p> -"Elza, darling," she said gently, "have a real cry, it will do you -good." -</p> - -<p> -Elza shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"It won't bring Philip back," she said dully, "nor Anna. Will it?" -</p> - -<p> -Her big, round eyes gazed with pathetic inquiry into Rosemary's face. -She seemed to have some sort of intuition that her English friend could -help—that she could do something for Philip, even now. Rosemary, her -eyes swimming in tears, slowly shook her head. And with a low moan, Elza -buried her face in the cushions, convulsive sobs shook her shoulders, -and little cries of pain broke intermittently from her lips. Rosemary -made no attempt to touch her. She let her cry on. Perhaps it was for the -best. There was nobody about, and tears were sometimes a solace. The -quietude, the stoicism of the past two hours, had been unnatural, -racking alike to heart, nerves and brain. There was a limit to human -endurance, and Elza had reached it at last. -</p> - -<p> -When the worst of the paroxysm was over Rosemary suggested gently: -"Would you like me to break the news to Maurus? I'll do it most -carefully, and I am afraid the strain would be too much for you." -</p> - -<p> -But already Elza had struggled to her feet. She was wiping her eyes, -then breathing on her handkerchief and dabbing them with it. -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, my dear," she said between the dry, intermittent sobs that -still shook her poor weary body, "not on any account. I understand -Maurus. I know just what to say. Poor, poor Maurus! He has so little -self-control. But I shall know what to say. You go and get your bath -now, darling," she went on, gently disengaging herself from Rosemary's -arms, "and get dressed. It will refresh you. I will do the same before I -speak to Maurus. Rosa shall bring your coffee in half an hour. Will that -do?" -</p> - -<p> -She forgot nothing, thought of everything—Rosemary's bath, her -breakfast, the guests. Ah, yes, the guests! Rosemary had forgotten all -about them. It was long past six now; they would soon be up. All of them -wanting breakfast, baths, attention. Elza forgot nothing. Thank God that -she had so much to think about! -</p> - -<p> -"You go up, darling," she said to Rosemary. "I shall be quite all right. -Don't worry about me." -</p> - -<p> -One or two servants came through the hall, busy with their work. Elza -had something to say, some order to give to all of them. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell the chef," she said to Anton, "to come and speak to me here. And -don't go into the gracious count's room until I call you." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary lingered in the hall a moment or two longer, until the chef, in -immaculate white, tall linen cap in hand, came for his orders. Elza -immediately entered into a long conversation with him on the subject of -milk rolls for breakfast. And Rosemary at last went slowly up the -stairs. Almost without knowing it, she found herself once more in her -room, the pretty, old-fashioned room with the huge bedstead and the -curtains embroidered in cross-stitch. How pretty it looked, and how -peaceful! Through the open window came the sound of bird-song; a -blackbird was whistling, a thrush was singing, a hundred sparrows were -chirruping, and on the large lily leaves on the ornamental lake a frog -was sitting croaking. So peaceful, so still! And, Heavens above, what a -tragedy within these walls! -</p> - -<p> -For a while Rosemary stood at the open window gazing out upon the -beautiful panorama laid out before her, the prim, well-kept garden, the -flower borders, the shady park, and out, far away, the wooded heights, -the forests of oak and pine which the morning sun had just tinted with -gold. -</p> - -<p> -And with a sudden impulse Rosemary fell on her knees, just where she -was, at the open window, and she stretched out her arms towards the -Invisible, the Unattainable, the Almighty, and from her heart there came -a cry, forced through her lips by the intensity of despair: -</p> - -<p> -"Oh God! My God! Tell me what to do!" -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI</a></h4> - -<p> -If Rosemary had been gifted with second sight! She would have seen at -the moment when she, in despair, turned to the great Healer for comfort, -General Naniescu and his friend, M. de Kervoisin, enjoying their <i>petit -déjeuner</i> in one of the palatial rooms of the Imreys' house in Cluj. M. -de Kervoisin had arrived the night before. He was the guest of the -general, and after a night's rest was enjoying the company of his host, -as well as the luxury of these beautiful apartments so thoughtfully -placed at the disposal of the military Governor of Transylvania by the -Roumanian Government. -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin was also enjoying the anxieties to which his friend was -a prey in his capacity of Governor of this unruly country. There is -something in a friend's troubles that is not altogether displeasing to a -philosopher. And M. de Kervoisin was a philosopher. He had come over to -give advice to his friend, and the rôle of adviser in a difficult -situation was one which he knew how to fulfil with infinite discretion -and supreme tact. Just now, while sipping a cup of most excellent -<i>café-au-lait</i>, he listened with every mark of sympathy to Naniescu's -account of the terrible trouble he was having with a certain obstinate -lady journalist who would not do what he wanted. -</p> - -<p> -"I have only asked her," he lamented, "for a few articles to be -published in the <i>Times</i> which would put us right with the British and -American public; but you know what women are. They never see further -than their noses. And this one, damn her, is like a mule. So far I have -not been able to move her." -</p> - -<p> -He had finished his breakfast, and with a pungent Havana between his -fingers, was waving his podgy, hairy hands to emphasise his words. -</p> - -<p> -Kervoisin smiled. "And you want those newspaper articles?" he asked. -"Seriously?" -</p> - -<p> -"Seriously," Naniescu assented. "My Government has become suspicious. -They are treating me very badly, you know. They began by giving me a -free hand. 'No more plottings and counter-plottings in Transylvania,' -they said to me when they sent me out here. 'It is your business to see -that things work smoothly out there. How you do it is your affair.' -Well," the general went on in an aggrieved tone, "you would construe -that order into a free hand for me, would you not?" -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin carefully spread butter on a piece of excellent fresh -roll before he answered: "Yes, I think I should." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course," Naniescu retorted; "so would anyone. And I was doing very -well, too, until that young fool Imrey managed to send his newspaper -articles over to England. And at once my Government got restive. You -know those articles were pretty hot!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, I know. But I always thought you attached too much importance to -them. <i>Mon Dieu!</i> Confiscations, perquisitions, arrests and even -executions, they are the inevitable consequences of foreign occupation." -And M. de Kervoisin took a little honey with his bread and butter, and -poured himself out another cup of coffee. "And you know," he went on -with a shrug, "the British and American public are really very -indifferent to what goes on out here. Cluj is such a long way from -London or New York. For a time the public is interested, a few are -indignant, one or two make a fuss and ask questions in their Parliament, -but, after all, you are one of the Allies; you must not be too openly -criticised. The man who asks uncomfortable questions in Parliament is -rebuked: <i>et puis voilà!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"I know all that," Naniescu rejoined with some impatience, "but -unfortunately my Government does not think as you do. Their vanity -suffers when they are attacked in English newspapers, and then they vent -their spleen on me." -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin said nothing for a moment or two; then he remarked -blandly: "I think I understand the position—now." -</p> - -<p> -"There is a talk of my resignation," the general added curtly. -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin smiled. "And you don't want to resign?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course not. Five thousand sterling a year: it is a fortune in this -miserable country; and then there are perquisites." -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin had finished his breakfast. He pushed his cup and plate -on one side, and resting both his elbows on the table, he looked -intently at his friend, while a sarcastic smile curled round his thin -lips. -</p> - -<p> -"So," he said, "you imagined this little scheme for putting yourself right -before your Government—and before the world—by getting the -beautiful Uno to write glowing accounts of your marvellous -administration of Transylvania, for the benefit of English and American -readers? Is that it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, wouldn't you?" Naniescu retorted. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. But you are not succeeding, my friend," M. de Kervoisin added with -the suspicion of a sneer. "What?" -</p> - -<p> -"I shall succeed in the end," Naniescu rejoined. "With the help of my -friend——" But at this point he was silenced by a peremptory -gesture of his friend's hand. -</p> - -<p> -"Sh!" de Kervoisin broke in quickly. "I shouldn't mention his -name—not even here." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, we are safe enough." -</p> - -<p> -"Walls have ears, my friend," the other riposted, "even in this -perfectly administered land. And our friend's work would be futile if -his identity was suspected. I introduced him to you as Number Ten. -Number Ten let him remain." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose I can trust him," Naniescu mused. "You assured me that I -could. But, bah!" he added with a contemptuous shrug. "Can one trust -those English?" -</p> - -<p> -"You can trust this one," Kervoisin retorted curtly. "He was the best -spy we had during the war." -</p> - -<p> -"During the war—yes! The man might think he was serving the entire -Allied cause by serving you. But now! And here! Frankly, I don't -understand the man's motive. He is rich, well born, and he is playing a -terribly risky game for us, who are nothing to him." -</p> - -<p> -"He is not running terrible risks for you, my friend, don't you worry," -de Kervoisin retorted with a mocking smile. "Though he may have reasons -which we don't know for hating the Hungarians, he certainly has none for -loving you; and you are one of the Allies, and to a large section of the -British public his work would not be called very heinous, seeing that it -is in your service and directed against ex-enemies. However, let that -pass. I attribute to Number Ten a very different motive for his actions -than the mere desire of serving you." -</p> - -<p> -"And what is that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Money, for one thing. He is not as rich as you think, and has -extravagant tastes. But that is not all. I know the English better than -you do, my friend, and I can tell you that Number Ten would just call his -work sport; and for sport, adventure—what?—a certain type of -Englishman will do anything, dare anything, risk everything. A hundred -and fifty years ago they had their Scarlet Pimpernel, who gave the -Revolutionary Government of France a deal of trouble at the time. Now -they have their Number Ten. The same spirit animates this man that -animated the other—one for good, the other, perhaps, for evil. Just -the spirit of adventure. A cycle of years has woven a halo of romance round -the personality of the Scarlet Pimpernel, and to us Number Ten still -appears as sordid, just a miserable paid spy in the service of an alien -Government. But believe me that many Englishmen and even women will -forgive him when they know him for what he is, because they will put it -down to a love of adventure—to sport, which is the only motive the -English appreciate." -</p> - -<p> -He took his cigarette-case out of his pocket, carefully selected a -cigarette, thrust it between his lips and lighted it. All the while -Naniescu had remained thoughtful. "You may be right," he said finally. -His was not an analytical mind; he was quite content to accept de -Kervoisin's explanation of the mystery that had vaguely puzzled him; -and, anyway, he did not care. Whatever motive animated the mysterious -spy, the man was very useful, and in the matter of Philip Imrey and Anna -Heves and of the obstinate lady journalist he had had one or two -brilliant ideas. -</p> - -<p> -De Kervoisin smoked on in silence for awhile, then he said: -</p> - -<p> -"Our friend does not seem to be coming. I hope there has been no hitch." -</p> - -<p> -"There could be no hitch," Naniescu asserted. "But it is a two hours' -drive to Kis-Imre and two hours back here. Will you wait a moment?" he -went on, and rose to his feet. "I'll see if they've any news downstairs -in the office. I told Number Ten to telephone from Kis-Imre when he got -there." -</p> - -<p> -Downstairs in the office they had nothing definite to report. No message -had come through from Kis-Imre. But even whilst Naniescu was storming -and fuming, blaming his subordinates, who obviously were not responsible -for the delay, a man wrapped, despite the heat, in a huge stained and -worn military coat, and wearing a soiled képi, crossed the courtyard -from the direction of the entrance gates towards the principal staircase -of the house. Naniescu saw him from the window and ran out into the -hall. He met the man just as he was entering the house, and at once -greeted him with the greatest effusion. -</p> - -<p> -"Is everything all right?" he asked hurriedly. -</p> - -<p> -"All right," the man answered curtly. "Of course." -</p> - -<p> -"Kervoisin is upstairs," Naniescu went on. "Come and tell us all about -it." -</p> - -<p> -He ran upstairs two at a time; the man in the military coat followed -more slowly. -</p> - -<p> -"Here is Number Ten," Naniescu announced, as he ushered the man into the -room where Kervoisin was patiently waiting and smoking cigarettes. -Kervoisin rose at once, a word of welcome on his lips. But at sight of -the man he paused and frowned, obviously mystified, until gradually his -face cleared and he exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Bon Dieu!</i> I should never have known you." -</p> - -<p> -"I do look a disgusting object, don't I?" the man retorted. He shook -hands cordially with Kervoisin; then he threw off his heavy coat and -sank, obviously exhausted, into a chair. -</p> - -<p> -"A cup of coffee?" Naniescu suggested. -</p> - -<p> -"Thanks!" the other replied. -</p> - -<p> -He drank the coffee, then took a cigarette from the case which de -Kervoisin offered him. He looked a regular vagrant, with face and neck -stained both with grease paint and with grime, his hands were soiled -with motor grease, and his hair hung lank and matted into his eyes. He -had what looked like a two weeks' growth of beard on his chin and upper -lip, and his clothes—if indeed what he wore could be called -clothes—were a mere bundle of rags. -</p> - -<p> -"Number Ten," de Kervoisin said with conviction, "you are an artist. I -have seen our friend here," he went on, turning to Naniescu, "in any -number of disguises, but never two alike, and every new one a surprise!" -</p> - -<p> -"You flatter me, sir," Number Ten said with an almost imperceptible -sneer. -</p> - -<p> -"But I am afraid you must be very tired," de Kervoisin resumed affably. -"I told the general last night that he might just as well have sent one -of his subordinates on this errand." -</p> - -<p> -"I like to finish my work myself," Number Ten rejoined curtly. -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon Naniescu threw up his hairy, fat hands and exclaimed in -wonderment: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Ils sont impayables, ces Anglais!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"Then we may take it," de Kervoisin went on, "that the work is -finished?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, finished," Number Ten replied. "We spotted the car on the road -about five kilomètres from Cluj. The patrol summoned the driver to -stop, but the man had obviously had his orders; he swerved sharply to -the right and put on speed to try and rush through. So I shot him." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! these English," Naniescu exclaimed complacently; "they are -wonderful!" -</p> - -<p> -But de Kervoisin only expressed the mildest possible surprise by a very -slight lifting of his eyebrows. -</p> - -<p> -"Yourself?" was all he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," the other replied. "The patrol was on the other side of the road, -but I guessed what would happen, so I had brought my horse to a halt -about two hundred metres higher up." -</p> - -<p> -"And," Naniescu asked blandly, "you killed the chauffeur?" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course," the other sneered. "I was not likely to miss him, was I?" -</p> - -<p> -But Naniescu could only smile, and sigh, and murmur: "Oh, those English! -<i>Voyez-moi ça!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"There were two men in the body of the car," Number Ten continued -coolly, "they were dead drunk. Philip Imrey and the girl were on the -front seats. I gave my horse in charge of the patrol and took the wheel. -We were in Cluj outside the gaol soon after two o'clock. I saw the chief -superintendent and gave the three men and the girl in his charge." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes! Yes!" Naniescu broke in glibly, and turned to de Kervoisin, "he -had all instructions. Everything was ready. I have seen them since. -Philip Imrey and Anna Heves are in separate cells, and the two drunken -oafs he dispatched by train to Hódmezö. They did not seem to know what -had happened, and it was no use detaining them." -</p> - -<p> -"None whatever," Number Ten said dryly. "They were just drunken oafs, as -you say. With the miller and his two sons you will have to deal -presently—that is, if your second patrol succeeded in capturing the -sons. I couldn't be in two places at once, and they may have crossed the -frontier. Anyway, that's your affair. Not mine." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course, of course," Naniescu said airily. And de Kervoisin put in -rather impatiently: -</p> - -<p> -"What about the car and the dead chauffeur?" -</p> - -<p> -"I drove both out to Kis-Imre," Number Ten replied deliberately. "The -best way to let people there know what had happened. The general agreed -to it." -</p> - -<p> -"Was that your brilliant idea?" -</p> - -<p> -"Mine!" Number Ten replied curtly. -</p> - -<p> -And suddenly through the paint and the grime a look of almost inhuman -cruelty distorted his face: the thin lips drew back tight above the red -gums, and the sharp teeth gleamed white like those of a wolf. It was the -recollection of a note which Naniescu had scribbled at his dictation, -and which he, Number Ten, had thrust into the hand of the dead chauffeur -for the perusal of an obstinate woman, that brought that wolf-like look -into his face. His eyes almost disappeared beneath the strand of false -eyebrows and the thick layers of paint upon the lids, and his hands -opened out and were clutched again like the talons of a bird of prey. -</p> - -<p> -For the space of a second or two Number Ten looked hideous. De -Kervoisin, who was watching him, was conscious of an uncomfortable -shudder: Naniescu fortunately was looking another way, and the whole -episode was over in a moment; the next, Number Ten was once more leaning -back in his chair, looking weary, grimy and ill-tempered, but there was -nothing supernatural about him, except perhaps his amazing change from -one personality to another. -</p> - -<p> -"How did you get back here?" Kervoisin asked after a moment's pause. -</p> - -<p> -"I have a car which our friend, the general, has placed at my disposal, -with a soldier-driver. I ordered him to follow me to within half a -kilomètre of Kis-Imre." -</p> - -<p> -"No one stopped you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No one." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you got to Kis-Imre before anyone was astir?" -</p> - -<p> -"I won't say that. The ladies at the château were astir." -</p> - -<p> -"And they saw you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. I had reached my own car, and was on the point of driving off when -I saw them coming through the gates of the château." -</p> - -<p> -"You would not have liked them to have seen you, I imagine," Naniescu -put in with a chuckle. -</p> - -<p> -"They wouldn't have known me," Number Ten retorted quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Heu! heu!" the general rejoined with a shrug. "There are certain eyes -that are reported to be very sharp." -</p> - -<p> -"Anyway," Number Ten broke in coolly, "no one saw me except an oaf from -the village, so why discuss the point?" -</p> - -<p> -And strangely enough General Naniescu, usually so dictatorial and so -arrogant, did not seem to resent the gruffness of this man who was in -his pay. On the contrary, he laughed good-humouredly and rested his fat -hand with a gesture of almost affection on the shoulder of the spy. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, <i>ces chers Anglais!</i>" he sighed fatuously, whilst de Kervoisin -turned quite politely to Number Ten with the bland question: "And what -is your next move, my dear friend?" -</p> - -<p> -"To get those articles out of the fair Uno," Naniescu interposed -hurriedly before the other had time to reply. "That point must not be -lost sight of." -</p> - -<p> -"I am not likely to lose sight of it," the other riposted dryly, "seeing -that I am to get ten thousand pounds sterling for them. I suppose you -think they are worth it?" he added, turning with his habitual sneer to -Naniescu. -</p> - -<p> -"I think," the general replied slowly, "that with the arrest of Philip -Imrey and Anna Heves, which, when it becomes known, will deter other -young fools from playing the same game—with that, I say, as a -make-weight, I think the articles will be worth the money—to my -Government and to me." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," Number Ten rejoined coolly, "I shouldn't have done your dirty -work for less." -</p> - -<p> -And Naniescu once more gave a fatuous sigh and murmured: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Ils sont impayables ces Anglais!</i>" whilst de Kervoisin smiled as a -philosopher smiles on follies and stupidities with which he has no -concern. Then he asked Number Ten: "And when do you return to -civilisation, my friend—to decent clothes and a bath?" -</p> - -<p> -"At once," the other replied, "unless I am wanted for something else." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, my dear man," the general rejoined, with perfect affability. "I -am quite content to leave everything in your hands." -</p> - -<p> -"And when do you want those articles?" -</p> - -<p> -"Shall we say within the week?" -</p> - -<p> -"You shall have them," Number Ten said coolly as he rose from his chair. -He nodded to Kervoisin, who responded cordially: "<i>A bientôt, mon -ami!</i>" Then he turned to go; but already Naniescu was on his feet. -</p> - -<p> -"I'll escort you," he said hospitably, "in case you meet anyone on the -stairs. In your present get-up," he added with his oily, guttural laugh, -"it might be awkward." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you," the other assented coolly, and, gathering up the dirty old -military coat, he strode to the door. Naniescu was already there, -holding it open for him. -</p> - -<p> -"You will stay and have lunch with M. de Kervoisin and me, I hope," he -said. -</p> - -<p> -"I think not, thank you," the other replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! You are going to Hódmezö, perhaps—or to Kis-Imre?" -</p> - -<p> -And Number Ten replied, with his habitual curtness: -</p> - -<p> -"That is my affair." -</p> - -<p> -De Kervoisin, who still sat smoking, chuckled at this. A scene such as -this was part of a philosopher's enjoyment. Naniescu threw him a look, -and shrugged his shoulders. De Kervoisin could almost hear him -reiterating his stock phrase: "<i>Ils sont impayables, ces Anglais!</i>" -</p> - -<p> -After that the two men went out of the room and de Kervoisin remained, -sitting and smoking, with a thin smile on his colourless lips—the -smile of a philosopher who sees the humour of a situation which to a less -keen mind would only appear obscure and topsy-turvy, and after a while he -murmured softly to himself: -</p> - -<p> -"They certainly are remarkable, these English!" -</p> - -<p> -Memory had brought back to his mind that cruel, wolf-like look which for -one unguarded moment had distorted the features of the spy. There was, -then, some motive other than greed or love of sport, that had pushed the -Englishman into doing this dirty work. Hatred? Love? Perhaps. Passion? -Certainly. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder now!" mused M. de Kervoisin. -</p> - -<p> -And being a Frenchman as well as a philosopher he was deeply interested -in this new problem. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII</a></h4> - -<p> -But Rosemary was not gifted with second sight, and she saw nothing of -this while she knelt at the open window of her pretty room at Kis-Imre. -She was in such an agony of mind, that for a time she became almost -insentient. Presently, dressed as she was, she threw herself upon the -bed, because she was dog-tired and had no longer the power to feel or to -suffer. Even the well of her sympathy appeared to be dry. She could not -bring herself to think of Elza or of Maurus, or to feel for them; even -Philip and Anna seemed blotted from her mind. An intense self-pity -absorbed every other sensation for the moment. She felt herself in such -a hopeless impasse that she had not even the strength to beat her hands -against the walls that had so completely closed her in. -</p> - -<p> -And so she lay there for an hour and more while life in the château -went on, unheeded by her. Long afterwards she heard that, as arranged, -the guests all departed soon after nine o'clock, that Elza had been -there to see them off, looking after their comforts, bidding them -good-bye and tendering hospitable, little invitations for the future. -Wonderful as always! Rosemary saw nothing of that. She only heard of it -afterwards, when she saw Elza again an hour or two later. For the time -being she was just a log—neither thinking nor feeling; conscious only -of that intense self-pity which was so humiliating, because her senses -were so numb that she had not the power to trace that self-pity to its -source. While she lay on her bed, blind, deaf, dumb, she did not know -that she suffered; she did not know that she lived. -</p> - -<p> -But this state of coma was the one concession to weakness. A giving in. -It was not the least like Rosemary; and as consciousness slowly returned -and with it the power to feel, she felt humiliated on account of that -weakness which was foreign to her. Fortunately no one had witnessed it. -Dear, wonderful Elza had had her hands full, and the departing guests -had only thought of being discreet and tactful and of leaving this -stricken home without putting too great a strain upon the self-control -of their hostess. They did not know, of course, that tragedy had -followed on the exciting events of last night; but they asked no -questions, well knowing that good news spreads like wildfire, and -guessing perhaps by Elza's set face and expressionless eyes that -something was not altogether right. -</p> - -<p> -Anyhow, they went away, and after their departure the house became -still—very still. Presently Rosemary had her bath and dressed, then -left the room to go and search for Elza. So far she had not been able to -gather anything from Rosa's stolid, round face. The girl went about her -work as if nothing special had happened; only when Rosemary was ready to -go downstairs and gave Rosa a final nod, the girl suddenly said with an -excited little gasp: "The gracious Count Philip and the Baroness Anna -will be in Hungary by now, won't they, gracious lady?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary nodded. "We hope so," she murmured. -</p> - -<p> -She waited in the hall for a little while, hoping that Elza would -presently be coming downstairs; but a quarter of an hour later Anton -came running down and made straight for the telephone. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Anton?" Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -"The gracious count," the man replied hurriedly. "He is ill. I am -telephoning to Cluj for the doctor." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, do you know?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, gracious lady, the countess did not say, but I think it is the -heart. The gracious count has fainted, and——" -</p> - -<p> -After that Anton was busy with the telephone, and Rosemary wandered -aimlessly into the drawing-room and out upon the veranda. -</p> - -<p> -Maurus ill! Yet another calamity striking that unfortunate woman! -Indeed, there was no room for self-pity in this house. Every feeling of -love, of sympathy and of pity must be concentrated on Elza. She stood -alone, just as Rosemary stood alone. Two women, each with their burden. -Elza with a load of boundless sorrow and anxiety, and Rosemary with a -terrible responsibility to face. Elza was helpless; she could only watch -and pray. But Rosemary had the choice between waiting and acting. -Sentiment on the one side; Philip, Anna, Elza, Maurus, people she knew -and loved; and duty on the other, duty to others, to countless of -unknown innocents, to mothers, to fathers, to wives. "What are they to -me?" cried sentiment. "The few for the many," was the command of duty. -Heart and brain in direct conflict and no one to advise, no one to help, -save God, and He was silent! The affairs of men are so futile in face of -the Infinite. -</p> - -<p> -Later on in the day the doctor came over in his motor from Cluj, and -after his visit Elza escorted him down into the hall. This was the first -glimpse that Rosemary had of her since the morning, and the sight of her -was a terrible shock; Elza was aged, her hair had lost its lustre, her -eyes their colour, her cheeks were the colour of lead, and even her -magnificent figure had shrunk. Elza looked an old woman, wide-eyed and -scared as if Fate was a tangible being standing perpetually before her -with flail upraised, striking, striking incessantly, until the poor, -weak shoulders bent under the blows, and the last vestige of youth fled, -chased away by pain. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as the doctor had gone Elza came back to Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -"Poor Maurus," she said. "Have you heard?" "What is the matter?" -Rosemary asked. -</p> - -<p> -Elza hesitated a moment, then she said: -</p> - -<p> -"As a matter of fact, it was a fit. He had had them before, and you know -he was always peculiar. And now the shock! The doctor says we shall have -to be very careful with him. He must be watched and kept very quiet." -</p> - -<p> -"Had you told him?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes; it is that which brought on the fit. The doctor asked me if he had -been more than usually agitated the last day or two." -</p> - -<p> -"But he is in no danger?" Rosemary insisted. -</p> - -<p> -"The doctor says not. But then he does not know. If—if the worst -happens with—Philip, I don't think that Maurus will live it through." -</p> - -<p> -Elza had allowed Rosemary to lead her into the drawing-room. She sank -down against the cushions and Rosemary knelt beside her, with her arms -round the poor woman's shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"Darling," she murmured, "is there anything I can do?" -</p> - -<p> -"No, dear, nothing. What can you do? We are only atoms. So helpless! We -can only suffer. I suppose that God wants some of us to suffer, and -others to be happy. It seems strange and unjust, but we can't help it. -We must just get through with it." Elza spoke jerkily, in a dry, cracked -voice, without the slightest ring or modulation in its dull monotony. -</p> - -<p> -"Am I in the way, Elza, darling?" Rosemary went on, trying with loving -eyes to probe the secret thoughts that lay hidden behind that set, -expressionless face. Elza turned large, round eyes upon her, and for an -instant a gleam of tenderness shot through them. -</p> - -<p> -"You are not in the way, darling," she said. "I don't know what I should -have done this morning if you had not been there to brace me up. But it -is miserable and dull for you here. Fancy you coming all the way from -England into this house of misery." -</p> - -<p> -"If you sent me away now," Rosemary said, "I should break my heart with -longing to be near you. But—I didn't know whether you would not -rather be alone——" -</p> - -<p> -"Alone? I should indeed be alone if you went away. Now that the children -are not here . . . and Maurus must be kept very quiet—I should be -very lonely if you went." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary gave her hand a little squeeze. -</p> - -<p> -"But Jasper will be coming soon," she said. "I am sure you won't want -him." -</p> - -<p> -"Lord Tarkington is so kind," Elza replied gently, "and he would be -company for you. The doctor is sending me a couple of nursing sisters -from Cluj, but you know what Maurus is. He gets so impatient if I am not -there. So we shall not see much of one another. But it would be a -comfort to me to know that you are in the house." -</p> - -<p> -"You are an angel, Elza, and I am glad that you axe not sending me away. -If you did I should not go very far. Probably to Cluj. I could not exist -far away from you whilst I had a glimmer of hope. In my heart, darling," -Rosemary went on earnestly, "I am still convinced that God will not -permit this monstrous injustice. Something will happen. You will see. -You will see." -</p> - -<p> -"It would have to be a miracle, my dear," Elza said dully. -</p> - -<p> -"God has accomplished greater miracles before this," Rosemary retorted -firmly. -</p> - -<p> -Elza smiled. She, poor dear, obviously did not believe in miracles. -</p> - -<p> -After a moment or two she said: -</p> - -<p> -"By the way, I quite forgot to tell you—so stupid of me—this -morning, while you were resting there came a telephone message for you from -Lord Tarkington." -</p> - -<p> -"From Jasper?" -</p> - -<p> -"He said he was coming some time in the afternoon." -</p> - -<p> -"Where was he speaking from?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am not quite sure, and, stupidly enough, I did not ask. When I -understood that it was Lord Tarkington speaking I asked if I should send -the carriage to meet him at Cluj. But all I heard in reply was: 'No, -no,' and then we were cut off. These telephone people are so tiresome, -they cut one off sometimes in the middle of a conversation. I am so -glad, darling," Elza continued gently, "that Lord Tarkington is coming -back. For your sake," she added, "and also mine." -</p> - -<p> -After that she rose and gave Rosemary a final kiss. -</p> - -<p> -"I have one or two little things to see to before lunch," she said, "but -I understood from Lord Tarkington that he would not be over before the -afternoon." -</p> - -<p> -And she went off with her bunch of keys jingling in her hand, outwardly -quite serene, and presently Rosemary could hear her calling to the -servants, giving orders, scolding for something left undone. She was -still wonderful, even though the elasticity had gone out of her step; -and her back was bent like an old woman's, her voice had lost its -metallic ring, and all the glorious colour had gone out of her hair. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Jasper arrived in the late afternoon, unheeded and unannounced. Elza and -Rosemary were in the garden at the time, and he was in the house for -over a quarter of an hour before they heard that he had come. Then she -and Elza hurried to greet him. He was in the drawing-room waiting -patiently. Rosemary thought him looking tired or perhaps travel-stained. -</p> - -<p> -He kissed Elza's hand first, then his wife's, no more. But Rosemary knew -her Jasper. He could not have kissed her in front of anyone, and Elza -for once did not seem surprised at the cold, formal greeting between -husband and wife. She asked a few questions: "Will you have something to -eat, dear Lord Tarkington?" and "How did you come?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper gave the required explanations. -</p> - -<p> -He had jumped out of the train at Apahida, which is the next station -before Cluj, to get a drink, and whom should he see in the station -restaurant but General Naniescu, who had driven out in his motor on some -business or other. Hearing that Jasper was on his way to Kis-Imre, he -offered to drive him over. It was a kind offer as Jasper was sick of the -train journey. He had only hand-luggage with him, and this he -transferred, together with himself, to Naniescu's motor. And here he -was—very glad to be back. -</p> - -<p> -Elza asked him what had become of the luggage, and where the motor was. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper explained that he had put the motor and the chauffeur up at the -inn. General Naniescu had only driven in as far as Cluj, and after that -had graciously put the motor and chauffeur at his, Tarkington's, -disposal, not only for the day but for as long as he and Rosemary would -care to use it. The chauffeur was bringing the luggage over presently -and would give it to Anton. -</p> - -<p> -"The car might be very useful," Jasper went on, turning to his wife, "so -I accepted the offer gladly. I thought it kind of old Naniescu." -</p> - -<p> -Of course, he knew nothing of what had occurred, but even so his mention -of Naniescu's name hurt Rosemary. She had already read failure in her -husband's eyes—complete failure, and all of a sudden she realized how -much hope she had built on this mission of Jasper's, and how it had -dwelt at the back of her mind whenever she tried to comfort Elza. Now -there was nothing left to hope for, nothing to believe in. Even faith -appeared shipwrecked in this new tidal-wave of despair. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had always found it difficult to extricate herself from -Jasper's arms once he held her tight, and this he did a few moment's -later when at Elza's suggestion that Rosemary should see him up to his -room, he found himself alone with her. He took her breath away with the -suddenness, the almost savage strength of his embrace. -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper!" she murmured once or twice. "Jasper! Please!" -</p> - -<p> -"I was so hungry for you, my Rosemary," he said. "Ten days—my God, -ten days without your kiss!" -</p> - -<p> -He looked her straight between the eyes and whispered huskily: -</p> - -<p> -"I've been in hell, little one." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary tried to smile: "But why, my dear? We can't expect to be -always, always together, every day for the rest of our natural lives." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know what you expect from life, little one, but I do know that -if you send me away from you again, I should not come out of that hell -again alive." -</p> - -<p> -"But I did not send you away, Jasper," she argued, a little impatient -with him because of his wild talk. "Your going to Bucharest was entirely -your own idea." -</p> - -<p> -"And I have lamentably failed," he muttered with a shrug. -</p> - -<p> -She gave a little gasp that sounded like a sob. -</p> - -<p> -"There was nothing to be done?" she asked. -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing." -</p> - -<p> -"The King?" -</p> - -<p> -"Indifferent. He trusts Naniescu, has confidence in his judgment, and -believes in his patriotism and sense of justice." -</p> - -<p> -"Then there is absolutely nothing to be done," she reiterated slowly in -a dull dream-voice. -</p> - -<p> -She was keying herself up to tell him all that had happened in the past -four-and-twenty hours. But she was so tired, almost on the verge of -breaking down. She did not think that she would have the strength to go -through with the long tale of hope and despair. But Jasper made her sit -down on the sofa and arranged a couple of cushions round her head. Then -he sat down on a low chair beside her. -</p> - -<p> -"Now tell me, little one," he said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, Jasper," she exclaimed, "how did you guess that there was anything -to tell?" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't I know every line of your adorable face?" he retorted, "every -flicker almost of your eyelid. Before I touched your hand I knew that -something was amiss. After that I was sure." -</p> - -<p> -"Dear," she murmured, and nestled her hand in his. Wasn't Jasper -wonderful too? With his marvellous understanding and that utterly -selfless love for her, who, alas! gave so little in return. He bent his -head and pressed his lips upon her wrist. -</p> - -<p> -"You guessed right," she said. "Something is very much amiss." -</p> - -<p> -Then she told him everything. He listened to the whole tale without a -comment, and even after she had finished speaking he sat in silence with -her hand held between his own, only bending his head now and again in -order to kiss her wrist. -</p> - -<p> -"There's nothing to be done!" she reiterated again, with a pitiable -little catch in her voice. -</p> - -<p> -And after awhile he said quite quietly and deliberately: -</p> - -<p> -"The only thing to be done, my dear, is to comply with Naniescu's wish." -</p> - -<p> -But against this she at once exclaimed, hot with indignation, and he -went on with a sigh: "I know, I know. You are such a sweet, enthusiastic -creature, and you have embraced the cause of these good people -whole-heartedly, injudiciously. I don't want to influence you, of -course——" -</p> - -<p> -"You promised me that you would not," she retorted. -</p> - -<p> -"I know! I know! You would not be the adorable creature that you are if -you were not unreasonable sometimes. But—I put it to you—what -harm would you do in writing the articles that Naniescu wants?" -</p> - -<p> -This question roused Rosemary's indignation once more. -</p> - -<p> -"How can you ask?" she queried. "To begin with I should alienate from -these wretched people over here all the sympathy which Philip Imrey's -articles have aroused for them abroad. Never again after that could any -friend raise a voice on their behalf. Naniescu or his kind would have a -free hand. He knows that well enough. Not only he, but all the waverers, -all the selfish and the indifferent could in future point to the -<i>Times</i> and say: 'Hardship! Nonsense! Why, here was an independent -lady journalist—and a woman at that—with every opportunity -for getting at the truth, and she writes at full length to tell the -entire world that the administration in Transylvania is a model of -equity and benevolence.' And mothers like Elza would cry in vain because -their sons had been torn from them, families would be sent into exile, -fathers, brothers murdered, oppression, confiscation, outrage would go -unpunished, all because one woman had been too great a coward to smother -sentiment under the mantle of justice." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had not uttered a word, hardly made a sign, while Rosemary spoke -her impassioned tirade. Only from time to time his dark eyes flashed -with a glance of admiration on his beautiful wife, who, with flaming -cheeks and slightly dishevelled hair, looked perhaps more desirable in -her indignation than she had ever done in repose. -</p> - -<p> -When she paused for want of breath he slowly shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"And do you really think, my darling," he said softly, "that you can -permanently influence English and American opinion by a few newspaper -articles, even if these are written by a well-known person like -yourself? Dear heart, in order to do that you would have to go at your -subject hammer and tongs, never allow one article to be forgotten before -you write another; you must be at your subject all the time if you want -to create an impression—hammer away at the newspaper-reading public -until its stupid wooden head is saturated with the stuff you give it. -Naniescu thinks a great deal of these articles which he wants you to -write. Well, in my opinion their effect would last just one week after -the last of them has appeared. After that some philanthropist or other -will have his say on the maladministration of Transylvania, and you are -not bound to refute that again, are you? But in the meanwhile Philip and -Anna will be comfortably out of the country, and even Elza and Maurus -will have settled down somewhere in Hungary to await better times; you -will have saved the lives of two young things whom you love, and spared -these good people here a terrible sorrow." -</p> - -<p> -While Jasper spoke Rosemary could not do anything but stare at him. His -sophistry amazed her. That there was a modicum of common sense in his -argument was not to be gainsaid, but that the suggestion of such -bargaining with truth and honour should come from Jasper, her husband, -horrified Rosemary and revolted her. And men often accused women of a -feeble sense of honour! From the first Rosemary had turned away from -Naniescu's proposal as from something unclean. She had never dwelt on -it, not for a moment. Even this morning, when first she felt herself -sinking into an abyss of despair, she had not dwelt on that. But Jasper -had not only dwelt on it; he had weighed its possibilities, the "for" -and "against" which, with unanswerable logic and not a little sarcasm, -he had just put before her. And even now, when she could not keep the -look of horror out of her eyes, he only smiled, quite kindly and -indulgently, as if she were just an obstinate child who had to be coaxed -into reason; and when indignation kept her dumb he patted her hand and -said gently: -</p> - -<p> -"You will think over it, I am sure!" Then he rose and started pacing up -and down the room, as was his custom when he was irritated or worried, -with his head thrust forward and his hands clasped behind his back. -</p> - -<p> -"You will think over it," he murmured again. -</p> - -<p> -"Never!" she retorted hotly. -</p> - -<p> -"You have another fifteen days before you." -</p> - -<p> -"Never!" she reiterated firmly. -</p> - -<p> -He looked at her for a moment or two with an indefinable smile on his -lean, dark face, then he shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"How much longer can you stand the mother's tears," he asked, "and the -father's despair?" -</p> - -<p> -"Elza, if she knew," Rosemary rejoined, with an obstinate toss of her -head, "would be the first to wish me to stand firm." -</p> - -<p> -"Try her!" Jasper retorted laconically. Then as Rosemary, reproachful, -indignant, made no attempt to reply, he went on with harsh insistence: -"Have you tried her? Does she know that the life of her son is entirely -and absolutely in your hands?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -"No!" she murmured. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper gave a harsh laugh. "Then," he said, "I can only repeat what I -said just now. Go and tell Elza everything, then see if her arguments -will be different from mine!" -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper!" Rosemary exclaimed, flushed with bitterness and resentment. -</p> - -<p> -He paused in his restless walk, looked at her for a moment or two, and -then resumed his seat beside her. For an instant it seemed as if he -wanted to take her hand, or put his arms round her, but whether she -divined this wish or no, certain it is that she made a slight movement, -a drawing back away from him. A curious flash, like a veritable volcano -of hidden fires, shot through the man's deep, dark eyes, and, as if to -control his own movements, he clasped his hands tightly together between -his knees. Strangely enough, when he next spoke his voice was full of -tenderness and almost of humility. -</p> - -<p> -"I am sorry, dear," he said gently, "if I hurt you. God knows that I -would rather be broken to pieces on a rack than to do that. But things -have come to a pass," he went on more harshly, "where my duty—and my -right—as your natural friend and protector command me to get you out -of this impasse before all this damnable business has affected your health, -or, God help us! clouded your brain." -</p> - -<p> -"The impasse, as you very justly call it, Jasper," she riposted, "will -not cloud my brain, so long as you do not seek to make right seem wrong -and wrong right." -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly he dropped on one knee close beside her; before she could -prevent him his two hands had closed upon hers, and he looked up into -her face with a glance full of love and entreaty, whilst every tone of -harshness went out of his voice. -</p> - -<p> -"But child, child," he urged, "don't you see, can't you understand, that -it is you who make right seem wrong? What good are you doing, what good -will you do, by letting those two wretched young idiots suffer the -extreme penalty for their folly? Will you ever afterwards know one -moment's peace? Won't you for ever be haunted by the ghosts of those -whom you could so easily have saved? Won't your ears ring for ever with -the whole-hearted curses of these wretched people, who will look upon -you as the murderer of their son? And, honestly, my dear, your articles -in the <i>Times</i> won't do more than flatter the vanity of Naniescu. -Those people in England and America who have really studied the question -won't think any the better of Roumanian rule or misrule in Transylvania -because a lady journalist—eminent, I grant you—chooses to -tell them that everything is for the best in the best possible occupied -world. Think of all those articles in the <i>Times</i> on the subject of -the French occupation in the Ruhr and their misrule in the -Palatinate—did it prevent the very readers of that same paper from -joining the League of the Friends of France and proclaiming at the top -of their voices their belief in the unselfish aims of M. Poincaré? You -attach too much importance to the Press, my dearest. Roumania and -Transylvania are very, very far away from Clapham and Ealing. People -don't trouble their heads much what goes on there. A few do, but they -are the ones who will stick to their opinions whatever you may say." -</p> - -<p> -Unable to free them, Rosemary had yielded her hands passively to -Jasper's clasp. She lay back with her head resting upon the cushions, -her eyes obstinately evading his glance and fixed upon the ceiling, as -if vainly seeking up there for some hidden writing that in a few terse -words would tell her what to do. Jasper thus holding her captive by her -hands made her feel like an imprisoned soul bruising itself against the -bars of an unseen cage. She felt fettered, compelled, unable to see, to -visualise that rigid code of honour which had ruled her actions until -now. Jasper had talked at great length; she had never heard him talk so -long and so earnestly and with such unanswerable logic. And Rosemary, -who up to this hour had seen her line of action before her, -crystal-clear, was suddenly assailed with doubts, more torturing than -any mental agony which she had suffered before. Doubt—awful, hideous, -torturing doubt. How could she fight that sinister monster "compromise" -if the one man whom she could trust tilted on its side? She had never -dreamed of such a possibility. And now, suddenly, Jasper had made such a -thing possible—worse, imperative! -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt her eyes filling with tears. She was so tired and could -not argue. She dreaded argument lest she should give in. It was all so -utterly, utterly hopeless. Jasper was out of sympathy with her, and -Peter—Peter—— -</p> - -<p> -She must unconsciously have murmured the name, for all of a sudden -Jasper jumped to his feet with a loud curse. -</p> - -<p> -"If you mention that devil's name——" he began. -</p> - -<p> -Then once more he started on his restless pacing, with lips firmly set -almost as if he were afraid that words would come tumbling out of them -against his will. -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper!" Rosemary exclaimed, "why do you hate Peter so?" -</p> - -<p> -"Hate him?" Jasper retorted harshly. "Does one hate a snake—or a -worm?" -</p> - -<p> -"That is unjust," she riposted, "and untrue. You forced a promise from -me not to confide in Peter. But I wish to God I had spoken to him, asked -for his help. Peter half belongs to these people; he would have helped -us if he had known." -</p> - -<p> -But Jasper only threw his head back and broke into a harsh, sardonic -laugh: -</p> - -<p> -"Peter?" he exclaimed. "Peter Blakeney help you? Heavens above! Don't -you know, child," he went on, and once more came and sat down beside -her, "that Peter Blakeney is nothing but a paid spy of the Roumanian -Government? I warned you; I told you. You remember that day, when you -did not even know that he was in Transylvania, he was in Cluj in touch -with Naniescu. I warned you then as much as I dared. I could not say -much because—because——" He paused, perhaps because he had -felt Rosemary's eyes fixed upon him with a curious, challenging look. A -second or two later he went on coldly: "And the denunciation of Anna and -Philip? How did it come about? Who knew of their folly except you and -Peter Blakeney? And what about last night? I warned you not to confide -in Peter, not to speak with him of the whole thing while I was away. Are -you quite sure, quite, quite sure that Peter knew nothing of the plan? -Are you quite sure that he——" -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper! Stop!" Rosemary cried; and with a great effort she pushed -Jasper away from her and rose to her feet. She wanted above all to get -away from him. She would not listen. She would not hear, -because—because every word that Jasper spoke was a dart that hit -straight at her heart, and every dart was marked with the word "Truth." -All that Jasper said she had heard whispered about her by unseen demons -who had tortured her for days with these horrible suspicions. She had -rejected them, fought against them with all her might; but no sooner had -she silenced one tempter than another took his place and whispered, -whispered awful words that, strung together, became a fearful, an -irrefutable indictment against Peter. But this, she would not admit; not -now, not before anyone, not even before Jasper. -</p> - -<p> -"I won't believe it," she said firmly. "I have known Peter all my life, -and what you suggest is monstrous. There have been strange coincidences, -I admit, but——" -</p> - -<p> -"Strange," Jasper broke in with a sneer. "You are right there, little -one. It is a strange coincidence, shall we say, that has made Peter -Blakeney the new owner of this house." -</p> - -<p> -"Whatever do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"That Peter Blakeney has bought an option on the château and property -of Kis-Imre from the Romanian Government." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary frowned in bewilderment. -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper," she said, "will you please tell me clearly what you do mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have told you, dear heart, as clearly as I could. But perhaps you -have not realised that if Philip and Anna are brought before a military -tribunal and convicted of treason against the States, these estates, -together with the château, will be confiscated. It will then be sold -for the benefit of the State and the owners will be expelled from the -country." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt herself shuddering. "No," she said slowly; "I had not -realised that." -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid that it is so. And in the meanwhile, some who are in the -know have already cast covetous eyes on this admirable château and -beautiful park and garden, and our friend Naniescu has hit on the happy -idea of selling the option of them to the highest bidder. And it seems -that Peter Blakeney was the lucky man. He has paid a few hundred -thousand leis for a first option on Kis-Imre and its dependencies, -should it come in the market after the conviction and presumably the -death of his cousins for treason against the State." -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you all that?" Rosemary queried coldly. -</p> - -<p> -"Our friend Naniescu." -</p> - -<p> -"And you believed it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I could not help believing; Naniescu showed me the contract for the -option. It was signed 'Peter Blakeney.'" -</p> - -<p> -"If Peter has done that," Rosemary went on slowly, "it is because he -wants to secure the place ultimately for Elza." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper smiled tenderly. "You are a loyal friend, sweetheart," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"The accusation is so monstrous," Rosemary retorted, "it defeats its own -ends." -</p> - -<p> -"I wish I could think so," he rejoined with a sigh. "Unfortunately, ever -since Peter's arrival in Cluj I have seen nothing but one calamity after -another fall upon these wretched people here. I only wish I had your -belief in coincidences. I only wish I could explain satisfactorily to -myself how those two children, how Elza, Maurus, all of us, have come to -this terrible pass, at the end of which there is nothing but chaos. But -there," he went on with his usual gentleness and patience, "I won't -worry you any longer. I have said my say. I have put my case before you. -Perhaps I look at it too much from a selfish point of view. I am -heart-broken to see you so wretched, and feel like hitting out right and -left to set you free from this awful impasse. So now, sweetheart, try -and forgive me, and think over it all from my point of view a little. -These people here are nothing to me, you are everything. All the world -and more. Even Heaven would be nothing to me without you, and this place -is a hell when you are not here." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary was standing close by the open window. The sky was grey. Great -banks of cloud rose and tumbled about the mountain tops. The pine trees -on the hill-side appeared like ghostly sentinels standing at attention -in the mist. The heat was oppressive. From far away came the dull rumble -of distant thunder. The tuberoses beneath the window sent a heady, -intoxicating scent through the storm-laden air. Rosemary felt terribly -wearied, and for the first time in her life discouraged. She had striven -for right, smothered every sentiment for the sake of abstract justice, -and in the end right was proclaimed to be wrong, at best a fantasy born -of her own vanity. Was Jasper right, after all? He had rather a way of -being always right. Anyway, he was English and practical; sentiment had -no part in his organization. Even his love, deep as it was, was not -sentiment. Rosemary had found this out before now. It was not -sentiment—it was elemental passion. But his views of life were built -neither on sentiment nor passion. He looked at things straight, as -Englishmen of a certain type do, who despise sentiment and whose -unanswerable argument is: "Well, it is the right thing to do." -</p> - -<p> -But, heavens above! what was the right thing now? Rosemary felt sick and -faint; the heat and the scent of the tuberoses made her head ache and -her eyes smart. Jasper was saying something, but she hardly heard him, -and she hardly felt his nearness when he took her hand and pressed it -against his lips. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX</a></h4> - -<p> -But a moment or two later a curious thing happened. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had gone out of the room, and Rosemary, leaning against the -window frame, was looking out into the approaching storm. She had not -heard what Jasper had said just before he kissed her hand; but her mind -must have registered it, must have made a kind of record of it, like -that of a gramophone, because now some of his words came back to her -quite distinctly through the rumblings of distant thunder. She had not -heard him then, but she heard him now quite distinctly—every word. -</p> - -<p> -"I have jotted down a few ideas. You, of course, will put them into your -own picturesque language. Just a few notes of what Naniescu would like -to see in the <i>Times.</i> I thought it would save you the trouble to -think. I don't think that you will find anything glaringly impossible in my -suggestions." -</p> - -<p> -Then he had put something down on the table. Memory had registered a -kind of swishing sound. And Rosemary, now turning slowly away from the -window, caught sight of that something on the table. Half a dozen loose -sheets of paper covered with Jasper's clear, minute handwriting. Like a -sleepwalker Rosemary went to the table and picked up the sheets. The -shades of evening were drawing in, and the heavy grey clouds in the sky -blotted out the remaining rags of daylight. With the papers in her hand -Rosemary went out on the balcony. She had the feeling that while she -read she must have the pure, storm-laden air about her. She had not -turned away from these notes of Jasper's in horror. She had not closed -her ears to the record of his words. She knew quite well what was -written on these sheets of paper, and deliberately she sat down and -began to read. -</p> - -<p> -The political and economic situation of Transylvania was stated in these -brief notes with remarkable lucidity. Jasper's clear, unemotional -outlook on the administration of the conquered country was set forth -without any imagery or attempt at style. Even the obvious bias in favour -of the ruling Government was tempered by sound logic and a certain -measure of indulgent toleration for the other side. Rosemary read the -notes through twice very carefully. She could hear Jasper's voice in -every sentence, feel his presence while she read. Long after she had -finished reading she sat there quite still, with the sheets of paper -lying on her lap and her hands folded over them. She marvelled whether -she was quite sane. Jasper had said at one moment that this terrible -impasse might overcloud her brain. Well, perhaps it had done that -already, and she could no longer distinguish right from wrong through -the clouds. -</p> - -<p> -Evening closed in about her. The garden down below became a blur, -through which white, starry flowers blinked up at her, and with their -placidity mocked the turmoil which was rending her soul. The -thunder-clouds were drawing nearer; they hung like lead over the -mountains. The pine trees like dark sentinels shivered at times under a -sudden gust of wind, and from time to time a pale reflex of distant -lightning lit the sky above the valley. -</p> - -<p> -Rosa came presently into the room and turned on the lights; she inquired -anxiously whether the gracious lady would not come in, as it was raining -already and the storm would be breaking very soon. Then only did -Rosemary become conscious that her hair and her dress were wet. Heavy -drops, the size of a shilling, were falling, but she had not noticed -them before. -</p> - -<p> -She came in and quite mechanically she locked the papers up in her -dressing-case. She asked Rosa what the time was, and whether dinner -would be at the usual time. Yes, dinner would be at eight o'clock as -usual, and it was now past seven. Rosa asked if the gracious lady would -like to change her dress. -</p> - -<p> -The rest of the evening was like a dream. Elza presided at dinner and -she and Jasper did most of the talking—that is to say, Elza asked -innumerable questions to which Jasper gave long replies, with forced -cheerfulness. Maurus, it seemed, was better. The doctor was coming again -the last thing at night, but the patient was much calmer, had taken some -nourishment in the way of milk, and had slept for an hour. Elza, -self-possessed, wonderful as usual, lingered over dessert. She poured -out coffee, offered liqueur and cigarettes. For her, hospitality and its -duties were a religion; she would as soon have neglected them as a -devout Catholic would have neglected confession. The very fact that they -cost her an effort made them all the more imperative and in a way -comforting. -</p> - -<p> -At ten o'clock Rosemary found herself once more alone in her room. -Jasper had kissed her tenderly when he bade her good night. Only when -she did find herself alone did Rosemary realize how much she had dreaded -this good night. She knew that she had no reserve of strength left to -stand one of Jasper's savage outbursts of passion; to-night of all -nights she would have gone down under it like the tuberoses below her -window under the lashing of the storm. -</p> - -<p> -The rain beat against the window-panes, terrific crashes of thunder -followed one another in close succession, and every few minutes the sky -seemed rent right through with blinding flashes of lightning. The heat -was nearly intolerable through this almost tropical storm. Rosemary had -dismissed Rosa. She undid her hair, which clung damp against her -forehead and the back of her neck, and clad only in chemise and -petticoat, with bare arms and neck, and bare feet thrust into slippers, -she sat down at the table with Jasper's notes before her, and read them -through once more. -</p> - -<p> -After that she searched through the chest of drawers for a bundle of -manuscript paper, and taking up her fountain-pen she began to write. She -had Jasper's notes in front of her, and she put them, as he had -suggested, into her well-known, picturesque language. She enlarged upon -them, amplified them, always keeping his suggestions as a background for -her own statements. -</p> - -<p> -For hours she sat there writing. It was the longest spell of -uninterrupted work that she had ever accomplished, but she was not even -conscious of fatigue. The storm raged for a while longer, but she did -not hear it. Only the heat worried her, and from time to time she mopped -her forehead and the back of her neck with her handkerchief. -</p> - -<p> -The storm passed by, and the air became very still as slowly the dawn -chased away the night. The waning moon peeped through the clouds, only -to melt away in the translucent ether; one by one the birds awoke, shook -their wet feathers and called to their mates. But not until she had -written the last line did Rosemary rise from the table. Then she put her -papers together, put a clip through them, arranged Jasper's notes -separately, and locked up both sets in her dressing-case. -</p> - -<p> -After that she put on a wrap and threw open the window. The clock in her -room struck five. She had been writing for six hours! The task was done. -There it stood ready, and Elza should decide. In this Jasper had been -quite right—wasn't he always right? It was for Elza to decide. Her -son's life on the one hand, her people's welfare on the other. It was -for her to decide. Philip was her son, the oppressed people of -Transylvania her kindred. Jasper was quite right. Let Elza decide. -</p> - -<p> -And after Rosemary had saturated her lungs with the pure air of the -morning, she went to bed and slept soundly, heavily, until Rosa came -into her room later on with her breakfast. -</p> - -<p> -And when, presently, Jasper came in, Rosemary was able to greet him with -a smile which was not altogether forced. She was able to return his -kiss, and after awhile to tell him what she had done. -</p> - -<p> -"The articles are written," she said, "and ready for publication. I have -even written a covering letter and addressed the envelope to the editor -of the <i>Times</i>, asking him kindly to arrange for their publication at -the earliest possible date. But before I put the articles in the post, I -shall give them to Elza to read. She shall decide if they are to go. You -were quite right, dear," she added, and looked Jasper quite frankly, -unwaveringly, in the eyes. "It is a matter for Elza to decide." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary found herself alone with Elza in the early part of the -afternoon. The doctor had been over in the morning to see Maurus, and on -the whole the bulletin was satisfactory: "The patient was doing well. If -he was kept very quiet there would be no complications. He was no age, -and on the whole had led an abstemious life. The most important thing -was to keep all worry, all agitation from him, both now and in the -future." -</p> - -<p> -Both now and in the future! Elza dwelt on those words when she told -Rosemary just what the doctor had said. -</p> - -<p> -"The future!" she murmured with a weary little sigh. "Of course, the -doctor does not know. Perhaps I ought to tell him what the future holds -in store for poor Maurus." -</p> - -<p> -The nursing sisters had arrived overnight. Rosemary had caught sight of -them about the house during the course of the morning, with their -white-winged caps that made them look like doves with outspread wings. -Their felt shoes made not the slightest noise as they walked. They were -very sweet and very restful, entirely incompetent but exceedingly kind, -and full of gentle pity and kind advice to the patient, who became -terribly irritable as soon as they ministered to him. -</p> - -<p> -After lunch Rosemary persuaded Elza to come out with her into the -garden. It was the first bright moment in the day. Neither morning nor -early afternoon had kept the promise made by the dawn. Storm clouds -hung, heavy and leaden, over the mountains, and dull rumblings -proclaimed the return of thunder. But about three o'clock there was a -break in the clouds, and a pale sun shot fitful gleams of silvery light -upon park and garden. It was oppressively hot. Rosemary led Elza to the -summer-house and made her sit down. Elza was fidgety. It almost seemed -as if she did not want to be left alone with Rosemary. She made one -excuse after another: Maurus! the chef! the stables! But Rosemary -insisted. -</p> - -<p> -"Listen to me, Elza, darling," she said firmly. "I want your full -attention for two minutes." -</p> - -<p> -Elza turned her big blue eyes upon Rosemary and murmured like an -obedient child: "Yes, dear! What is it?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had the papers in her hand: the newspaper articles which she -had written during the night. The hand that held the manuscript shook -ever so slightly, but her voice was quite steady. -</p> - -<p> -"I want you," she said to Elza, "to read very carefully what I have -written here. They are newspaper articles which General Naniescu would -like to see published in England and in America. When you have read them -you will understand why. He wants this so badly that on the day these -articles are published Philip and Anna will receive a full pardon, -Kis-Imre will not be taken from you, and if you wish, you can all leave -the country for a time until things settle down and better times come -for you all." -</p> - -<p> -She thrust the papers into Elza's hands and turned to go. -</p> - -<p> -"I will leave you to read quite quietly," she said. -</p> - -<p> -But Elza's round blue eyes were still staring at her. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't understand you, dear," she murmured vaguely. -</p> - -<p> -"Of course you don't, darling," Rosemary rejoined gently; "but you will -when you have read what I have written. The gipsy was quite right; it is -in my power to save Philip and Anna, but only to a certain extent, -because it is you alone who can decide if I am to exercise that power or -not. God bless you, darling!" -</p> - -<p> -She put her arms round Elza and kissed her tenderly. Thank Heaven all -self-pity, all selfish introspection had gone from her. Her thoughts, -her love, her pity were all for Elza. But it had to be. Elza must -decide. <i>Her</i> people! <i>Her</i> son! <i>She</i> must decide! -</p> - -<p> -When Rosemary hastened across the lawn she turned once more toward the -summer house. Elza was still sitting there, staring with big, blue eyes -into vacancy. Every line of her attitude indicated bewilderment. She had -the packet of paper in her hand and was tapping it against her knee. -Poor Elza! A heavy sob rose from Rosemary's aching heart. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary did not sec Elza again that day. Just before dinner Rosa came -with a short scribbled note from her. "Maurus is very restless," it -said, "I don't like to leave him. Will you and dear Lord Tarkington -forgive me if I don't join you at dinner?" -</p> - -<p> -The evening was dreary. Jasper said very little, and Rosemary felt -thoroughly out of tune with him; he had a meek air about him that -irritated her. Hers was not a nature to sympathize with remorse, and -Jasper's manner gave the idea that he regretted having forced her into a -decision. So she gave curt answers when he spoke to her, and after -dinner he retired into the smoking-room with the excuse that he had some -business letters to write. She sat reading most of the evening, her -nerves on edge, hearing all sorts of mysterious sounds through the -apparent stillness of the house. -</p> - -<p> -When Jasper came to say "good night" she felt sorry for him. He looked -forlorn and miserable, and reason told Rosemary that he of all people -ought not to be allowed to suffer through a situation that was none of -his making. Poor Jasper! She, his wife, had dragged him, unwillingly -enough, into this impasse wherein his quiet habits of a wealthy English -gentleman were hopelessly perturbed and his outlook outraged at every -point. So, after she had returned his last kiss and saw him going -upstairs, slowly, dragging one step after another, almost like an old -man, she ran after him and linked her arm in his, and gave him a tender -and sympathetic smile. The look of gratitude which he gave her in return -warmed her heart. Here at least was no divided duty. In a moment of -pique—it was nothing less than that—she had linked her fate -with Jasper Tarkington, accepted from him all the lavish gifts that wealth -could buy, and which he so generously bestowed upon her. In exchange for -that he only asked for her love; and if the love which he gave and -demanded did not reach that sublime ideal of which Rosemary had once -dreamed, at any rate it was loyal and ungrudging, and she had no right -to let her caprice stand in the way of his happiness. -</p> - -<p> -It was perhaps strange that these thoughts should come to her at a -moment when her whole soul was torn with a terrible sorrow and a racking -anxiety; perhaps they came because on this very day she had made the -greatest abdication of her will that she had ever done in all her life. -She had always acted for herself, judged for herself, set herself a high -standard of straight living and straight thinking, and lived up to it. -To-day she had left a decision which should have been hers in the hands -of another. She knew that she had done right, but her pride was -humiliated, and to soothe that pride she set herself a fresh standard of -duty to Jasper and determined to live up to that. -</p> - -<p> -But ever afterwards she turned away with a shudder from thoughts of this -evening, when she probed the full depth of Jasper's passion for her, and -saw before her like a row of spectres the vision, of an endless vista of -years, during which every caress would mean for her an effort, and every -kiss a lie. -</p> - -<p> -The new standard of duty which she had set herself would be very -difficult to live up to. She had never loved Jasper, only hoped that she -might learn to love him one day, but on this fateful evening she -realized that she might in time learn to hate him. -</p> - -<p> -When at last she was alone she found herself unable to rest. Through the -open window the sounds of the oncoming storm became more and more -insistent. It was rolling in on the bosom of the clouds from over the -mountains in the west. Already one or two vivid flashes of lightning had -rent the sky, and now and then great gusts of wind swept across the -valley and sent a soughing and whispering through the trees. The poplars -bowed their crests, and the twisted branches of the old acacias shivered -and cracked in the blast. It was insufferably hot, and there was a smell -of sulphur in the air. Rosemary in a thin lace wrap could not succeed in -keeping cool. She stood by the open window, longing for the storm to -break in all its fury, so that she might be rid of this feeling of -oppression which was so unendurable, because the storm, far or near, had -gone on almost uninterruptedly for over twenty-four hours. Rosemary's -thoughts now were with Elza. She pictured to herself the unfortunate -woman wrestling with a decision which either way must mean the breaking -of her heart. Elza, who outwardly seemed just a soft, futile, pampered -doll, with thoughts fixed on her menus and her servants, was a veritable -heroine, strong and tenacious, proud without vanity, loving without -weakness, the type that represented everything that was finest and best -in a woman. She was of the stuff that religious martyrs were made of in -the past, and she would not come to a decision without a terrible -struggle. If in the end her heart overruled the dictates of justice and -of right, her remorse would be as devastating as her courage hitherto -had been sublime. -</p> - -<p> -If Elza had been a religious woman she would not have suffered nearly so -cruelly. The pagan knows nothing of the comfort of prayer, of diving -blindly from the rocks of care into the ocean of God's love. And Elza -was only a pagan from whom the thin veneer of Christianity laid on in -early life had been rubbed off long ago. She would not now be on her -knees, murmuring with heaven-born resignation: "Lord, not my will, but -thine be done!" she would be fighting a tough battle, wrestling with her -heart, castigating her tenderest feelings, fighting alone, unaided, -unconsoled. -</p> - -<p> -Poor, poor Elza! Rosemary, looking out into the storm, seemed to see the -pretty round face distorted by grief, the big, child-like eyes gazing -bewildered on the immensity of the puzzle which the Fates had set for -her to solve. And while Rosemary gazed the storm became full of -pictures, each lightning flash revealed a face. Elza! Philip, dark-eyed, -enthusiastic, the idealist! Anna, gentle and resigned. Maurus, the man, -the head of the family, the trunk of the tree weaker than its branches. -And then Peter. Oh, Peter filled the night with his presence. There was -Peter in flannels, a boy with bright eyes and curly head, fighting his -life's battles with a cricket bat and a joke. Peter home on leave from -that hell in Belgium, receiving from his king the supreme reward for an -act of almost unequalled bravery, of which, in his boyish way, he would -often look quite ashamed. And Peter that night in June, long ago. -Peter's strong arms round her shoulders. Peter's impassioned words, -vying in melody with the nightingale. Peter's kiss that opened wide the -portal of Heaven; and, lastly, Peter the mysterious, the subtle, unseen -influence in whose wake strode sorrow and disaster. And the rumbling of -the thunder brought back to Rosemary's ears Jasper's words of warning: -"I only wish I had your belief in coincidences"; and "Ever since Peter's -arrival I have seen nothing but one calamity after another fall upon -these wretched people here." And then that awful, awful indictment which -she had been unable to refute: "Don't you know that Peter Blakeney is a -paid spy of the Roumanian Government?" The thunder brought the echo of -those terrible words. Louder and louder, for the storm was drawing -nearer, and the echo of those awful words drowned the very sound of -thunder. -</p> - -<p> -All at once the storm broke in all its fury; there was a deafening crash -and a flash of lightning so vivid that for the space of one second the -garden stood revealed as if in broad daylight before Rosemary's gaze, -clear-cut in every detail, every tree, every leaf, every flower, every -ripple upon the lake, each pebble upon the garden walk; and in that one -second Rosemary had seen Peter standing on the gravel walk, not fifty -yards from her window, and looking up at her—gazing. She caught his -eyes in that one flash. He was dressed in a dark suit, his cricketing -cap was on his head. It had been an instant's flash, but she had seen -him, and he was gazing up at her window. And their eyes had met in that -one flash, right through the storm. -</p> - -<p> -After that all was darkness, and though from time to time the night was -rent by lightning flashes, Rosemary did not see Peter again. And when -later on the storm subsided, and, wearied out, she went to bed and -slept, she dreamt that all her suspicions of Peter had been proved to be -wrong. She dreamt that she was a few years younger, that they were on -the river together, in a punt, and that the nightingale was singing. She -dreamt of the lapping of the water against the low-lying river bank, of -the scent of meadow-sweet, and of the honey-coloured moon that painted -long lines of golden light upon the reeds. She dreamt that Peter kissed -her, and that she was free to give him kiss for kiss. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII</a></h4> - -<p> -When Rosemary woke the next morning she felt quite convinced that the -vision which she had had in the night, of Peter standing on the gravel -walk and looking up at her window, was only a creation of her own fancy. -Rosa had opened the curtains and the volets, and Rosemary saw a dull, -grey sky before her. The storm had certainly abated, but it was still -raining. Rosemary thought of the cricket match, which would probably -have to be postponed owing to the weather, and of the disappointment -this would mean to many, especially to Peter, who had set his heart upon -it. -</p> - -<p> -During breakfast Jasper told her that he had received a note from his -<i>agent de change</i> at Cluj, and that the latter said in his letter that -the cricket match which should have been begun yesterday had to be -postponed owing to the weather. -</p> - -<p> -"Steinberg goes on to say," Jasper continued, "that he had heard that -the cricket pitch—the playground he calls it—was like a swamp. -The storm seems to have been very severe the other side of the frontier. It -went on for twenty-four hours without a break, and was still raging at -the time of writing. Unless the weather improves very much, Steinberg -says that the match will have to be abandoned altogether, as Payson and -several of his team have to be back in Budapest in time for work on -Monday morning, which means leaving Hódmezö on the Sunday." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as Rosemary made no comment on the news, only stared rather -dejectedly out of the window, Jasper went on after a while: -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid it will mean a disappointment all round, as the weather can -hardly be said to have improved, can it?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary said: "No, it cannot," after which the subject was dropped. -Somehow the idea of the postponed cricket match worried her, and there -was one insistent thought which would force itself into the forefront of -her mind to the exclusion of all others, and that was the thought that -the postponed cricket match would have left Peter free yesterday to come -over to Kis-Imre, and that therefore it might have been himself in the -flesh who was standing during the storm in the garden last night. -</p> - -<p> -Why he should have chosen to stand in the garden in the rain rather than -come into his aunt's house was a problem which Rosemary felt herself too -wearied and disheartened to tackle. -</p> - -<p> -When she went downstairs soon after ten o'clock she met Elza in the -hall, dressed ready to go out. She looked more tired, more aged, more -ill than the day before; obviously she had spent another sleepless -night. But she kissed Rosemary very tenderly. "Come into the -smoking-room, darling," she said. "I want to say something to you." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary followed her into the smoking-room and at once asked after -Maurus. -</p> - -<p> -"He has had no sleep," Elza said, "and at times his brain wanders. But -physically he seems no worse—rather stronger, I think, than -yesterday, and he enjoyed his breakfast. If we could only keep him quiet!" -</p> - -<p> -She opened her handbag and took out the papers which Rosemary gave her -yesterday. -</p> - -<p> -"I read your articles through very carefully, dear," she said, "but I -did not have to pray for guidance. I knew at once that none of us, not -Maurus or I, or Anna's people, would accept the children's safety at -such a price. The children themselves would refuse." -</p> - -<p> -With a perfectly steady hand she held the papers out to Rosemary. "Take -them, darling," she said. "Thank you for letting me decide. That is the -one thing which we none of us would have forgiven, if you had published -these articles without consulting us." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary took the papers, and with them Elza's hands, which she raised -to her lips. She could not speak for the moment, she could only kiss -those soft, white hands, which, with sublime heroism, were sacrificing -an idolised son for an abstract idea of humanity and justice. -</p> - -<p> -"Elza," she murmured at last, "have you thought of everything—of -Maurus—of Anna's mother?" -</p> - -<p> -"Anna," Elza replied softly, "has linked her fate with Philip's. Her -mother is a hard woman, but she would not be a traitor to her own -people. As for poor Maurus, the last of his tottering reason would go if -I were to speak of this with him. But, sane or insane, he would not buy -his son's life at this price. We are suffering enough, God knows, but -how could we live in future, knowing that other fathers, other mothers, -would have to go through this same misery because of our cowardice. -These devils here would continue their work unchecked—perhaps not -for long—but they would continue—no one would stop -them—no one could criticise them after this. And mothers would -suffer as I am suffering now—and fathers—and wives—our -friends, perhaps. No, no," she said, with a shake of the head, "it can't -be, my dear, it can't be." -</p> - -<p> -She pushed Rosemary's hand away from her, the hand that still held the -fateful papers. She thrust it aside, with eyes closed so as not to see -that thing which meant Philip's life. -</p> - -<p> -"I am going to see Charlotte Heves," she said, after a while. "I think I -ought to tell her. And after that I shall see Philip and Anna. Those -devils can't prevent my seeing my own son. I shall see Philip. I know -what he will say. And you can destroy those papers, Rosemary, darling. -Burn them. It was right to tell me, and now you know." -</p> - -<p> -There was a knock at the door. Anton came in to say that the carriage -was at the door. Elza was going to drive over to Ujlak first to see -Anna's mother, and then to Cluj to see Philip and Anna. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not be home till late," she said as she gave Rosemary a -good-bye kiss, "but everything is in order for you and dear Lord -Tarkington. Maurus will be all right. He likes one of the sisters—the -old one—and the doctor is coming before noon. So Maurus will be all -right." -</p> - -<p> -She fussed with her cloak and her veil; her pretty little hands shook -ever so slightly, but her eyes were dry and they rested with great -tenderness on Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -"It was quite right to tell me," were the last words she said. "Tell -dear Lord Tarkington that I did not hesitate. Not for a moment." -</p> - -<p> -She was gone, and Rosemary found herself alone with those fearful papers -in her hand. Destroy them? Yes! That is what she would do. She had known -all along that Elza would be a true heroine; she would not sacrifice her -people even as propitiation for her son. Strangely enough, Elza's point -of view was in direct opposition to Jasper's. Her own splendid ideals -had been her guide, and though she was not by any means an intellectual -woman, she was clever enough to appreciate the immense lever for evil -which Rosemary's articles would have put into the hands of the enemies -of her people. -</p> - -<p> -Destroy them? Yes! That was the only thing to be done now. Let the -chapter of doubts be finally ended. What Rosemary had thought right Elza -had endorsed. Everything else was sophistry and specious argument. So -let temptation itself be swept away. The touch of these papers had -become as noisome as a plague spot. With them in her hand Rosemary went -up to her room. Jasper was there, waiting for her and smoking a -cigarette. His eyes lit up with a curious flash when she came in. -</p> - -<p> -"You have seen Elza?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"How did you know?" -</p> - -<p> -"It was not a very difficult guess," he said. Then he went on: "She -thinks as you do?" -</p> - -<p> -"Absolutely!" Rosemary replied. -</p> - -<p> -He gave a quick, impatient sigh. "I am sorry," he said. "What will you -do now?" -</p> - -<p> -"Destroy these papers, of course. I have no further use for them." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper appeared thoughtful for a moment or two, then he said: "I think -Elza ought to have put the matter before Anna's mother before she -finally decided." -</p> - -<p> -"She is going to do that now," Rosemary said. -</p> - -<p> -"Has she driven over to Ujlak, then?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. And after that she is going to try to see Philip. I was thinking," -Rosemary went on, "that you or I might telephone to General Naniescu and -use what influence we possess to induce him to let Elza see the two -children." -</p> - -<p> -"By all means," Jasper assented. Then he added: "I think it will come -best from you." -</p> - -<p> -He was watching Rosemary closely. She was kneeling beside the huge -porcelain stove, which is such a feature in country houses in this part -of the world, and was trying to undo the catch of the door. She still -had the manuscript in her hand. -</p> - -<p> -"What are you trying to do, little one?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -"To open the door of the stove," she replied. "Then, if you will give me -a match . . ." -</p> - -<p> -"Such a hurry?" he queried with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Evil in any form is best destroyed as quickly as possible." -</p> - -<p> -"That is true on principle. But in this case . . ." -</p> - -<p> -"Well?" -</p> - -<p> -"Do you think it would be quite fair to Anna's mother?" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"She has not been consulted, you said." -</p> - -<p> -"No; but Elza is sure——" -</p> - -<p> -"Can anybody be sure?" he broke in quickly. "You know what these people -are. A woman like Elza—a splendid woman, I grant you—is very -impulsive. She is a heroine, as you say; but doesn't she measure weaker -characters by her own standard? She has no right to do that in this -case. Charlotte Heves has as much at stake as Elza Imrey. Maurus, I dare -say, is not in a fit state to give his opinion; but Anna's mother -certainly is; and, honestly, I don't think that it would be fair to -confront her with a <i>fait accompli.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary made no reply for a moment or two, then she deliberately closed -the catch of the iron door and rose slowly from her knees. -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps you are right," she said. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper put out his hand, and as she tried to evade him he clutched at -her dress and drew her close to him. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't punish me, little one," he pleaded gently, and tried to look into -her eyes, which, however, she kept resolutely downcast. "Don't punish me -for not seeing entirely eye to eye with you in this. You would not have -me abdicate my freedom of thought, even though I would lie down in the -dust, for your dear feet to walk over me." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary shook her head, but she still kept her head obstinately averted -from him. -</p> - -<p> -"May I read what you have written?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -She gave him the manuscript without a word. He only glanced at the -envelope and then slipped the whole packet in the inner pocket of his -coat. -</p> - -<p> -"I may be able to make a suggestion or two," he went on with a kindly -smile, "something that you will call by the ugly name of compromise. -But, darling, I cannot help it. I still think that you look at the whole -thing from too lofty an elevation. Come down to earth, little one, and -look at it from a more practical point of view." -</p> - -<p> -He had succeeded in capturing both her hands, and with a sudden, -compelling gesture he forced her down on her knees. She gave a little -cry because he had hurt her wrists; but the next moment he had his arms -round her shoulders and his face buried between her throat and chin. -Rosemary managed to push him away from her. -</p> - -<p> -"Not now, Jasper," she murmured, "please!" -</p> - -<p> -He gave a curious, hoarse laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Not now?" he retorted. "Any time, sweetheart, is kissing time! And if -you only knew how I ache with wanting your kiss!" He held her by the -shoulders and gazed on her with such a living flame in his deep-set, -dark eyes, that it seemed to consume the veils that hid her soul and to -leave it stripped before his gaze and shamed in its nakedness. -</p> - -<p> -"If you loved me ever so little," he murmured between his teeth. He -kissed her on the lips once, twice, till hers were seared and bruised, -then he released her so suddenly that she lost her balance and almost -measured her length on the floor while he rose abruptly to his feet. He -looked down at her for a moment or two, but made no attempt to help her -to get up; seeing her struggles he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder, sometimes," he said in a hard, dry voice, "why one goes on -living. How much easier it would be just to lie down and die. Look at -the fuss there is because a boy and a girl will be lucky enough to go -out of this world before they have learned to hate it. They don't know -how much easier it is to die than to live. And how much better! For me -how much better! But the best of all would be to see you dead, my dear, -for then you could not go on hurting me, as you do—as you would do -even if I were in my grave——" -</p> - -<p> -And with that he strode out of the room and banged the door to behind -him. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary struggled to her feet. She felt bruised and hurt, mentally as -well as physically. Never had Jasper been so repellent to her as he was -just now. The fear that one day she might come to hate him had become a -hideous reality. The awful thing was that he had read her secret -thoughts, her soul had been revealed to him in all its nakedness and its -shame. He knew now that she was false to the oath which she swore before -the altar, to love and cherish him. He knew that her love for Peter was -not dead, and that she turned away from him because she longed for -Peter's nearness, for Peter's love and Peter's kisses. And Rosemary knew -that with this knowledge Jasper would make of her life a hell. The love -that he bore her was too absolutely physical to allow of indulgence or -understanding. He would make her suffer in exact proportion as he -suffered himself, and that love would make him more bitter towards her -than a torturer in the Middle Ages toward his victim. -</p> - -<p> -When had she given herself away? She did not know. Not to-day, surely. -To-day had only been a confirmation, not a revelation. He had known all -along, and hated Peter from the hour when first he knew. He hated Peter -who had once been his friend, and he would make Rosemary suffer until -she could truthfully echo his words: "It is so much easier to die than -to live." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Half an hour later! Rosemary thought that Jasper was still in his room, -and she had a longing to get away from his nearness and out into the -open. It was still raining and the sky was the colour of lead. She threw -a cape over her shoulders and opened the door of her room. She was -dreading to meet Jasper again, so she listened intently for awhile for -any sound that might betray his presence. From Maurus' apartments at the -opposite end of the gallery there came a buzz of voices, and from down -below where the servants were laying the table in the dining-room for -luncheon a clatter of crockery. Otherwise silence. And no sound from -Jasper's room close by, so Rosemary ran quickly downstairs. -</p> - -<p> -She had just reached the hall intending to go out into the garden when -she heard a strange clatter coming apparently from the smoking-room. It -sounded like a scuffle. Of course it could not be, but that was just -what it sounded like. She stood still to listen. And then she heard -quite distinctly a smothered cry. Something like a curse. And she -thought that she recognized Jasper's harsh voice. At once she ran to the -door of the smoking-room and threw it open. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper was on the ground, struggling to get back to his feet. He -appeared dazed, and to be moving with difficulty. His hand was tearing -at his collar, as if he were choking; his clothes were disarranged, his -face looked pallid and blotchy, and his eyes bloodshot. But Rosemary did -not scream when she caught sight of him. Something else that she had -seen had paralyzed her limbs and seemed actually to be holding her by -the throat. The tall window which gave on this side of the garden was -wide open, and in a flash, just as she entered the room, Rosemary had -seen Peter in the act of getting over the windowsill. The next second he -had disappeared over the ledge, and she heard his footsteps crunching -the gravel as he ran in the direction of the main gates. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later Jasper had recovered his voice and the use of his -limbs. -</p> - -<p> -"Call to the servants!" he cried in a raucous voice. "Curse that -devil—he will get away." -</p> - -<p> -But Rosemary could not move. She could only stand where she was in the -doorway and stare at the open window. Jasper had struggled to his feet, -lurched forward and tried to push past her. He tried to call out, but -the words were choked in his throat. He put his hand up again and tore -at his collar, then he tottered and would have fallen backwards if -Rosemary had not been quick enough and strong enough to catch him and to -guide him to the nearest chair, into which he sank, half fainting. One -of the servants came across the hall from the dining-room. Rosemary -called to him to bring some brandy. -</p> - -<p> -"The gracious lord feels faint," she said. "Be quick, Sàndor, will -you?" -</p> - -<p> -As soon as Sàndor had brought the brandy, Rosemary sent him -peremptorily away. Fortunately neither he nor any of the other servants -had heard anything of the scuffle, and Rosemary, for very life, could -not have said anything to them just then. She knelt down beside Jasper -and made him swallow some of the brandy. Obviously he had not been hurt, -only scared, and the scared look was still in his eyes when he came to -himself. -</p> - -<p> -"You haven't let him go?" were the first words he uttered. -</p> - -<p> -"Let whom go, Jasper?" Rosemary asked quietly. She rose to her feet and -offered him an arm to help him get up. -</p> - -<p> -"That spying devil," Jasper replied, with a savage oath. "Peter -Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"What in the world do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"You know quite well what I mean. You must have seen him—I told you -to call the servants. Are you in collusion with him, then, that you did not -do it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I heard a scuffle," Rosemary rejoined coldly, "when I reached the hall. -I opened the door and saw you lying on the ground. I only had enough -presence of mind to send for some brandy. Perhaps you will tell me what -else happened." -</p> - -<p> -"What else?" he retorted, with a sneer. He had risen and gone over to -the mirror to readjust his clothes. She could see his face in the glass, -livid with passion, his eyes fixed upon her reflection, while he fumbled -with his tie and collar. But even while she watched him she saw a change -come slowly over his face. The colour came back to his cheeks, his eyes -narrowed, and an indefinable expression crept into them. Perhaps he did -not know that Rosemary was watching him; certain it is that she had never -seen such an expression on his face before—his lips parted above -the teeth, which gleamed sharp and white and gave the mouth a cruel, -wolfish look. It was all over in a moment, the next he had swung round -and faced her, apparently quite himself again, with just the habitual -expression of high-bred weariness which he always affected. -</p> - -<p> -"I was obviously wrong," he said coolly, "to suggest that you were in -collusion with that young devil, and for this I beg your pardon." -</p> - -<p> -"Wouldn't it be best," she retorted equally coolly, "if you were to tell -me what did happen?" -</p> - -<p> -"Peter Blakeney sneaked in through that open window. My back was turned -that way and I heard nothing, as I was intent on reading your -manuscript. He attacked me from behind. I was taken unawares, but I -tried to put up a fight. However, he is younger and more athletic than I -am, and he knocked me down. He had already snatched your manuscript out -of my hand, and he disappeared with it the way he came, through the open -window, at the very moment that you entered the room." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had listened to this without moving a muscle. She stood in the -middle of the room as if she had been turned to stone, alive only by her -eyes, which were fixed with such an intensity of questioning on Jasper -that instinctively he turned away, as if dreading to meet her glance. -</p> - -<p> -"That is all, my dear," he said, with a sudden assumption of meekness. -"I was certainly to blame for allowing that precious manuscript to be -taken from me. I should, I know, have guarded it with my life, and so -on, and I have probably sunk very low in your estimation as a coward. -But I was taken entirely unawares, and one is not usually prepared for -daylight robbery in a house filled with servants. So that must be my -excuse——" He paused a moment, then added dryly: "That and the -fact that I warned you more than once that Peter Blakeney was working -against you. Now perhaps you are convinced." -</p> - -<p> -At last Rosemary recovered the use of her tongue, but her voice sounded -strange to herself, toneless and distant, as if it came from beneath the -earth. "You are quite sure, I suppose," she said slowly, "that it was -Peter Blakeney who—who did what you say?" -</p> - -<p> -"Aren't you?" he retorted with a harsh laugh. She made no reply to the -taunt. Outwardly she did not even wince. -</p> - -<p> -"You are quite sure that he got away with the manuscript?" -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. "I am quite sure," he replied. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you suppose he means to do with it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Sell it to Naniescu, of course." -</p> - -<p> -"In exchange for Philip and Anna's freedom?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper looked at his wife keenly for a moment or two, and the corners of -his lips curled in a satiric smile. He took out his cigar-case, -carefully selected a weed, struck a match, lit his cigar, and blew out -the flame. Then only did he reply. -</p> - -<p> -"Hardly that, I think, seeing that he was instrumental in getting them -locked up. More probably, I should say, in exchange for a few thousand -pounds." -</p> - -<p> -This time the shaft struck home. Rosemary had some difficulty in -smothering the cry of protest which had risen to her throat. But she -recovered herself in less than a second and said coolly: -</p> - -<p> -"The manuscript must be got back, of course." -</p> - -<p> -Once more Jasper shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"It might have been done at the moment; but I was helpless, and you were -so concerned for my welfare that you did not raise hell to send the -servants after the thief." -</p> - -<p> -"I did not know then—about the manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"You know now," he retorted, "and have not called the servants yet." -</p> - -<p> -"This is not the business of the servants. I look to you to get me back -the manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"To me?" he rejoined with a harsh laugh. "Are you not putting too great -a strain on my allegiance? You know my views. Should I not rather be -wishing that damnable spy God-speed?" -</p> - -<p> -"Jasper," she said earnestly, "you must get me back the manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"How is it to be done, my dear? From all accounts our friend Peter is as -elusive as his ancestor, the Scarlet Pimpernel. He has ten minutes' -advance of us already . . . a car probably waiting for him in the -village. Are you quite sure you can't hear the whirring of a motor now?" -</p> - -<p> -"You could try, at any rate." And now there was a distinct note of -pleading in her voice. "General Naniescu——" -</p> - -<p> -"Make yourself no illusion in that quarter, my dear," he broke in -quickly. "Once Naniescu is in possession of those precious articles of -yours he will send a courier flying across Europe with them. Remember -that with the MSS. there was your covering letter to the editor of the -<i>Times</i>, asking for immediate publication. Let me see," he went on -slowly, "this is Saturday. I believe we shall see the first of those -wonderful articles in print in the <i>Times</i> on Wednesday." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't care how it's done," she replied impatiently. "If you won't -help me I'll manage alone." -</p> - -<p> -"What can you do, my dear?" -</p> - -<p> -"Telegraph to the <i>Times</i>, for one thing, and start for London this -evening." -</p> - -<p> -"Plucky!" he remarked dryly; "but I doubt if you'll succeed." -</p> - -<p> -"Will you put obstacles in my way?" -</p> - -<p> -"I? Certainly not. But Naniescu will." Then, as without attempting -further argument she turned to go, he added blandly: "And Peter." -</p> - -<p> -To this final taunt Rosemary made no reply. Her thoughts were in a -whirl, but through the very confusion that was raging in her brain her -resolution remained clear. She would wire to the editor of the <i>Times</i> -not to act on any letter he might receive from her until he heard from -her again, and in the meantime she would start for London immediately. -Even if her wire were stopped by Naniescu's orders, she would be in -London in time to stop the publication of the articles. Though she had a -great deal of influence in the journalistic world, it was not likely -that so important a paper as the <i>Times</i> would be ready to print her -articles the moment they were received. Yes, she had plenty of time. And -the whole conspiracy, whatever it was, had been clumsily engineered and -would certainly prove futile. -</p> - -<p> -The conspiracy! Rosemary could not think of that. Yet when she did it -would mean such a terrible heartache that the whole world would become -a blank. Peter blotted out of her life. That is what it would mean when -she regained the power to think. It would come to her probably in the -train, travelling alone across Europe, hurrying to nullify work done by -Peter—shameful, despicable work that would sully the reputation of a -pariah. The work of a spy, of hands tainted with ill-gotten wealth! -Rosemary's gorge rose at the thought. The conspiracy would prove -futile—there was plenty of time to subvert it—but it was an -evil, noisome thing that had been. It had existed—and Peter had given -it birth! -</p> - -<p> -Peter! -</p> - -<p> -Never again could the world be bright and beautiful. The thing was so -loathsome that it would taint with its foulness everything that Rosemary -had up to this hour looked on as sweet and sacred and dear. She herself -would remain noisome: a body to execrate, since it had once lain passive -and willing in Peter's arms, since her lips still retained the savour of -his kiss. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary went out into the village as far as the post office. She wrote -out her telegram to the editor of the <i>Times</i> and asked whether it -could be sent out immediately. In order to stimulate the zeal of the -post-mistress she emphasised her instructions with a hundred lei note. -The post-mistress smiled and thanked the gracious lady for the note, and -she promised that she would send the telegram off within the next few -minutes. Then, as soon as Rosemary had gone out of the stuffy little -office and disappeared down the village street, the woman rang up the -Imrey Palace at Cluj and asked to be allowed to speak with His -Excellency the General. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary's wire was repeated over the telephone to General Naniescu, who -promptly gave orders that it should not be sent. When he put down the -receiver he was very much puzzled. Something had apparently happened at -Kis-Imre which had greatly disturbed the beautiful Uno. It seemed indeed -as if she had actually written those articles which Naniescu wanted so -badly that he was prepared to pay ten thousand pounds sterling of -Government money for them. And having written the articles, the lady -seemed first to have sent them off, then to have repented. -</p> - -<p> -Well, well! It was all very puzzling. Even M. de Kervoisin, experienced -diplomat though he was, could suggest no solution. He advised the -obvious: to wait and see. -</p> - -<p> -"We shall see our friend Number Ten soon," he said. "If I am not -mistaken he has at least one key to the puzzle in his possession." -</p> - -<p> -But it was not Number Ten who presented himself at the Imrey palace that -afternoon. It was <i>ce cher</i> Monsieur Blakeney, who had come all the -way from England in order to preside over a game of cricket that had not -come off because of the weather. His Excellency was delighted to see -him, and so was M. de Kervoisin. This charming, most unexpected but most -welcome visit was due no doubt to the cricket and the bad weather. So -tiresome! <i>Mais hélas!</i> Man proposes and the rain disposes. -</p> - -<p> -His Excellency was most sympathetic. Would M. Blakeney have a cigar and -a glass of <i>fine?</i> No? Then what could His Excellency do for M. -Blakeney? -</p> - -<p> -"Pray command me, my dear Monsieur Blakeney. We are all so grateful to -you for the kind interest you are taking in our young athletes. It will -be such a happy recollection for them in after years that so -distinguished an English champion as yourself has helped them with their -games." -</p> - -<p> -Peter let him talk on. He thought it a pity to stem this flood of -eloquence, and he was looking forward to the moment when Naniescu's -complacent effusions would turn to equally comic puzzlement first, and -subsequently to amazement and delight. -</p> - -<p> -"Shall I tell your Excellency now," he said as soon as he could get a -word in edgeways, "why I have come?" -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Mais comment donc?</i>" the general replied suavely. "I am hanging on -your lips, <i>mon cher</i> Monsieur Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"Well," Peter said, quite slowly and speaking in French since M. de -Kervoisin did not know English, "well, it's just this. Lady Tarkington -has written certain newspaper articles, which you, general, very much -desire to see published. That's so, isn't it?" -</p> - -<p> -But though this opening almost betrayed Naniescu into an exclamation of -surprise, he had enough control over his nerves not to give himself -away. Fortunately he was a great adept at expressive gestures, and his -cigar also helped to keep him in countenance. -</p> - -<p> -He leaned back in his chair, was silent for a moment or two blowing -rings of smoke through his full, red lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Articles?" he queried at last with an assumption of perfect -indifference. "I don't know. What articles do you mean, <i>cher ami?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"Those," Peter replied with equal indifference, "for which you were -prepared to pay a deuced lot of money to your spy in chief." -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu waved his podgy hand that held the cigar, then he deliberately -dusted away a modicum of ash that had dropped upon his trousers. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" he said innocently. "Lady Tarkington, you say, has written such -articles?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes. She has." -</p> - -<p> -"Then no doubt she will honour me by allowing me to see the manuscript. -She knows how deeply I am interested in her work." -</p> - -<p> -"No, general," Peter broke in drily. "Lady Tarkington has no intention -of allowing you to see that particular manuscript of hers." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! May I be permitted to inquire how you happen to know that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I happen to know—no matter how—that Lady Tarkington only wrote -the articles tentatively; that after she had written them she repented -having done so, and that her next act would have been to throw the -manuscript into the fire." -</p> - -<p> -"Very interesting. But, forgive me, my dear Monsieur Blakeney, if I ask -you in what way all this concerns you?" -</p> - -<p> -"I'll tell you," Peter said coolly. "I also happen to know—no matter -how—that you are prepared to pay a large sum of money for those -articles, so I thought that I would forestall your spy-in-chief by -driving a bargain with you over the manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"But how can you do that, my dear young friend, without the manuscript -in your possession?" -</p> - -<p> -"The manuscript is in my possession, Excellency," Peter said coolly. -</p> - -<p> -"How did that come about, if I may ask the question?" -</p> - -<p> -"You may. I stole it this morning from Lady Tarkington." -</p> - -<p> -"What?" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu had given such a jump that he nearly turned himself out of his -chair. The cigar fell from between his fingers, and the glass that -contained the fine was upset and its contents spilt over the table. Even -M. de Kervoisin had given a start; and his pale, expressionless face had -flushed. Though the report of the post-mistress of Kis-Imre had given -Naniescu an inkling that something unexpected had occurred, he certainly -had not been prepared for this. -</p> - -<p> -He looked up at Peter and frowned, trying to recover his dignity, which -had been seriously jeopardized. Peter was laughing—very impolitely, -thought His Excellency. But then these English have no manners. -</p> - -<p> -"You'll forgive my smiling, won't you, sir?" asked Peter quite -deferentially. -</p> - -<p> -"Go on with your story," Naniescu retorted gruffly. "Never mind your -manners." -</p> - -<p> -"I can't very well mind them, sir," Peter rejoined, with utmost -seriousness, "as I don't possess any. And I can't go on with my story -because there is none to tell." -</p> - -<p> -"You have got to tell me how you knew that Lady Tarkington had written -certain newspaper articles; how you knew that I wanted them; how you -came to—to steal them—the word is your own, my dear Monsieur -Blakeney—and where they are at the present moment." -</p> - -<p> -"None of which facts, I am thinking, concern your Excellency," Peter -retorted coolly, "except the last. The manuscript of Lady Tarkington's -newspaper articles is in my pocket at the present moment, together with -her letter to the editor of the <i>Times</i>, asking for these articles to -be published at an early opportunity. So, you see, sir, that I am bringing -you a perfectly sound proposition." -</p> - -<p> -"I'll have to read those articles first." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course," Peter agreed, and took the sheets of manuscript out of his -pocket. "At your leisure." -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu thrust out his podgy hand for them; his large, expressive eyes -had lit up with a gleam of excitement. Peter gave him the manuscript, -and as he did so he remarked casually, "They are no use to your -Excellency without the covering letter." -</p> - -<p> -Which remark seemed to tickle M. de Kervoisin's fancy, for he gave a -funny, dry cackle which might pass for a laugh. Naniescu, however, -appeared not to have noticed the taunt. His white, downy hands shook -slightly as he unfolded the manuscript. He leaned back in his chair and -began to read, the excitement of his nerves was chiefly apparent by his -stertorous breathing and his almost savage chewing of the stump of his -cigar. -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin remained silent. He offered Peter a cigarette, and while -the Englishman struck a match, lit the cigarette and smoked it with -obvious relish, the Frenchman watched him through his half-closed lids -with an expression of puzzlement upon his keen, wrinkled face. No sound -disturbed the silence that had fallen over the actors of the little -comedy, only the ticking of an old-fashioned dock and now and then the -crisp crackling of paper as Naniescu turned over the sheets of the -manuscript. From time to time he nodded his head and murmured -complacently, "<i>C'est bien! C'est même très, très bien!</i>" And once he -looked across at his friend and asked: "Would you like to read this, -Kervoisin?" But the Frenchman only shrugged and replied with a slightly -sarcastic smile: "Oh! my dear friend, if you are satisfied——" -</p> - -<p> -Peter said nothing. He waited quite patiently, seemingly completely -indifferent, and smoked one cigarette after another. -</p> - -<p> -When Naniescu had finished reading, he carefully folded the manuscript, -laid it on the table beside him and put his hand upon it. -</p> - -<p> -"What do you want for this?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -And Peter replied coolly: "The title deeds of the Kis-Imre property." -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu stared at Peter for a moment or two, then he threw back his -head and laughed until the tears trickled down his cheeks. -</p> - -<p> -"You are astonishing, my friend," he said. "The property is worthy fifty -thousand sterling." -</p> - -<p> -"I have paid an option on it of five thousand," Peter retorted, "and the -rest wouldn't come out of your Excellency's pocket, I take it." -</p> - -<p> -"Not out of my pocket, of course," Naniescu was willing to admit, "but -out of that of my Government. We are going to sell Kis-Imre for the -benefit of the State." -</p> - -<p> -"And won't your Excellency be purchasing these newspaper articles for -the benefit of the State?" -</p> - -<p> -"These articles are not worth it," Naniescu retorted gruffly. -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, let's say no more about it. I'm sorry I troubled your -Excellency." -</p> - -<p> -Peter rose as if to go and put out his hand toward the sheets of -manuscript. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't be a fool," Naniescu broke in. "I'll give you a good price for -the thing, but a property worth fifty thousand sterling—hang it -all—it's a bit stiff." -</p> - -<p> -Peter smiled. "How tersely you put the matter, general," he said. "I -dare say it is a bit stiff, but I am not prepared to bargain—only to -sell. And if you are not satisfied——" -</p> - -<p> -"Easy, easy, my impetuous young friend. Did I say that I was not -satisfied—or that I refuse to consider the matter? But there are -considerations." -</p> - -<p> -"What considerations?" -</p> - -<p> -"To begin with, how do I know that the English newspaper would accept -these articles as the genuine work of Lady Tarkington?" -</p> - -<p> -"I told you that I had Lady Tarkington's own covering letter to the -editor of the <i>Times</i>, asking him to publish the articles as soon as -possible." -</p> - -<p> -"Let me see it," Naniescu retorted. -</p> - -<p> -"With pleasure." -</p> - -<p> -Peter took the letter out of his pocket, but before handing it over to -Naniescu he said dryly: "May I in the meanwhile refresh my memory of the -articles?" -</p> - -<p> -The eyes of the two men met across the table. Naniescu's flashed with -resentment, but Peter's face wore a disarming smile. He looked for all -the world like a schoolboy bartering marbles for stamps. But the -situation appeared to tickle Kervoisin's fancy. He gave a dry chuckle -and said: -</p> - -<p> -"You are quite right, <i>mon ami.</i> They are astonishing, these English." -</p> - -<p> -The exchange was effected without Naniescu losing his sense of -resentment or Peter his pleasant smile, and Peter held on to Rosemary's -manuscript while the general read the letter through. -</p> - -<p> -While he read, the look of resentment vanished from his face and a -complacent smile rose to his full, sensuous lips. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Il n'y pas à dire</i>," he murmured; "<i>c'est très, très bien.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -When he had finished reading he looked up at Peter. -</p> - -<p> -"Now then, Monsieur Blakeney," he said curtly, "your last price?" -</p> - -<p> -"I have told you, sir—the title-deeds of Kis-Imre." -</p> - -<p> -"You are joking." -</p> - -<p> -"I was never more serious in my life." -</p> - -<p> -"But, hang it all, man, if I make the property over to you, how are we -to get rid of the Imreys?" -</p> - -<p> -Peter shrugged his shoulders, and, still smiling, said coolly: "That, -Excellency, is your affair, not mine." -</p> - -<p> -"But the Countess Imrey is your aunt." -</p> - -<p> -"What has that got to do with the whole thing, Excellency?" -</p> - -<p> -"What has it got to do with it? What has it——?" Naniescu was -gasping with astonishment. He was something of a rascal himself, but never -in all his life had he come across such callousness or such impudence. He -turned to Kervoisin as much as to say: "Have you ever seen such an -unmitigated young blackguard?" But the Frenchman's face was inscrutable; -his keen, pale eyes rested with obvious puzzlement on Peter. -</p> - -<p> -"Then you want me," Naniescu asked, as soon as he had recovered his -breath, "you want me to turn the Imreys out of their home?" -</p> - -<p> -"It won't be the first time, Excellency, that you have done that sort of -thing, will it?" Peter retorted, with his most engaging smile. -</p> - -<p> -Strangely enough, Naniescu was losing his temper. He wanted those -articles and wanted them badly, and if this preposterous deal went -through he could have them without putting his hand in his pocket. But -this young blackguard exasperated him. Perhaps professional pride was -wounded at meeting a man more corrupt, more venal than himself. To -further his own ends Naniescu would have plundered and bullied to an -unlimited extent, but he would not have robbed and bullied his own kith -and kin; whereas this handsome young athlete with the engaging smile did -not seem to have the slightest scruple or the least pricking of -conscience. It would be a triumph to get the better of him in some sort -of way. Unfortunately the scamp had not yet given up the manuscript, and -Naniescu only had the letter, whilst de Kervoisin was in one of his -abstracted fits when he wouldn't open his mouth to give friendly advice. -</p> - -<p> -The general, sitting back in his chair, and blowing smoke rings through -his pursed lips, had a swift but exceedingly pleasant day-dream. Those -articles were just what he wanted. They were so beautifully written! So -convincingly! What a stir they would make! They were a complete -vindication of his administration here in Transylvania. The country -prosperous. The people contented. Only a small minority grumbling, -without the slightest justification. Oh, those articles! Published in -the English <i>Times</i> and signed by the illustrious "Uno"! Naniescu, -closing his eyes to enjoy this wonderful day-dream, saw himself summoned -to Bucharest, there to receive the personal thanks of his King and a -substantial reward from his Government, whilst all he need do now to -obtain these glorious results was to hand over to this young rascal a -property that belonged to that fool Maurus Imrey. -</p> - -<p> -It was a lovely day-dream. A stroke of the pen would make it reality. No -wonder that General Naniescu swore loudly when the crackling of paper -woke him from this short trance. The young rascal was quite -unconcernedly stowing that precious manuscript away in his pocket. -</p> - -<p> -"Halt!" Naniescu exclaimed, on the impulse of the moment. "I -accept——" Then he added guardedly: "On principle, I mean." -</p> - -<p> -"And in fact?" Peter queried, without making the slightest movement -towards taking the manuscript out of his pocket again. -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes!" Naniescu replied impatiently. "But, curse you for a -jackanapes, these things take time——" -</p> - -<p> -"They need not," Peter rejoined curtly. "All you need do is to give me -an official receipt for forty-five thousand sterling, the balance of the -purchase-money for the Kis-Imre property. The British Consul and your -lawyer will do the rest." -</p> - -<p> -"And when do you want possession?" -</p> - -<p> -"At once." -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu made a final appeal to his friend: "What do you say, -Kervoisin?" -</p> - -<p> -But the Frenchman's face remained inscrutable. He was watching the smoke -that curled upwards from the tip of his cigarette, and only from time to -time did he throw a quick, indefinable glance at the tall, athletic -figure of the man who was driving such a contemptible bargain. When -Naniescu appealed directly to him, he only shrugged his shoulders to -indicate his complete detachment from the whole affair. Peter, on the -other hand, showed not the slightest sign of impatience. He even went to -the length of buttoning up his coat. -</p> - -<p> -"Would you like to think it over?" he said coolly. "I can leave my offer -open for another few hours." -</p> - -<p> -"No! damn you!" Naniescu exclaimed, and jumped to his feet. "Wait for me -here. I'll have the receipt ready in five minutes." -</p> - -<p> -After which, from sheer force of habit, he swore in several other -languages before he finally strode out of the room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV</a></h4> - -<p> -Peter met de Kervoisin's shrewd eyes fixed searchingly upon him. He gave -a quaint, good-humoured laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you trying to make up your mind, sir," he asked, "just what kind of -a blackguard I am?" -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin's thin lips curled in a wry smile. "I am not sure," he -said, "that you are a blackguard. But I confess that I do not understand -you." -</p> - -<p> -"Which is very flattering, sir. But isn't it natural that a man should -covet a beautiful property and seize the cheapest means to become -possessed of it? That sort of thing has been largely done by the -conquering nations since the war. Then why not by individuals?" -</p> - -<p> -"Why not, as you say? But I was not thinking of that side of the -question, chiefly because I do not believe that you stole Lady -Tarkington's manuscript in order to drive a bargain with our friend here -over the Kis-Imre property. I may be wrong, but you don't look to me the -sort of man who would do this dirty trick for mere gain. I am giving you -the credit of desiring above all to save your kinsfolk, young and old, -from certain highly unpleasant eventualities." -</p> - -<p> -"You are very generous, sir, in your estimate of me. -</p> - -<p> -"The question is," Kervoisin mused, "whether after all this they will be -grateful to you for what you have done, or will they hate you, do you -think, for what the publication of those articles will mean to their -people? Lady Tarkington must at one time have intended to publish those -articles, since she took the trouble to write them. Something turned her -from the purpose: either her own conviction, or the desire of the Imreys -themselves." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose so," Peter said, with a shrug of complete indifference. -</p> - -<p> -"Whereupon you, my dear friend, stepped in like an unwanted <i>deus ex -machinâ</i>, and settled the business to your own satisfaction, if not to -theirs." -</p> - -<p> -"I never was good at Latin," Peter said, with his most engaging smile, -"but we'll leave it at that if you like." -</p> - -<p> -De Kervoisin was silent for a moment or two, his attention being -seemingly riveted on the rings of smoke that rose from his cigarette. -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder," he murmured after a while. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't trouble, sir. I am not worth it." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! but youth always is a perpetual wonder to me. It is such a long -time since I was young myself. And I was wondering which of the two -levers youth pulled in order to make you act as you did." -</p> - -<p> -"Two levers?" -</p> - -<p> -"Love or hate." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as Peter was silent in his turn, M. de Kervoisin went on: "You -know, we in France always look for the woman in every case. Now here we -have not far to seek. And yet love would seem to me to have gained -nothing by this adventure, whilst hate, on the other hand——" -</p> - -<p> -He paused abruptly, his keen eyes narrowed, and his lips curled in a -sardonic smile. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" he said. "I think I understand, after all." -</p> - -<p> -"That's more than I do, sir," Peter retorted ingenuously. -</p> - -<p> -M. de Kervoisin would no doubt have pursued the subject, which seemed -greatly to interest him, had not Naniescu just then made a noisy -re-entry into the room. He had a large, official-looking document in his -hand, which he threw down on the table. -</p> - -<p> -"Have a look at this, my dear Monsieur Blakeney," he said curtly. "I -think that you will find it in order." -</p> - -<p> -Peter took up the paper and examined it at great length. It was a -receipt for the sum of forty-five thousand pounds sterling, in full -satisfaction for the sale of the estate of Kis-Imre here described as -the property of the Crown of Roumania. It was signed with Naniescu's -elaborate flourish, countersigned and stamped; it stated further that -the sale would be duly inscribed in the Bureau des Hypothèques in -accordance with the law, and the <i>acte de vente</i> and title-deeds -handed over within one month to M. Peter Blakeney or his duly appointed -representative. -</p> - -<p> -It was all in order. Peter folded the receipt, but before putting it -away he said to Naniescu: -</p> - -<p> -"The whole thing, of course, is conditional on a free pardon being -granted to Philip Imrey and Anna Heves, with permission to leave the -country immediately. That was the original bargain between yourself and -Lady Tarkington." -</p> - -<p> -"They can dear out of the country the day the last of these articles is -published in the <i>Times</i>," Naniescu rejoined gruffly. "I'll arrange -for that fool Maurus Imrey and his wife to clear out at the same time. The -sooner I am rid of the whole brood of them, the better I shall like it." -</p> - -<p> -"I am sure you will," Peter said blandly. "Then perhaps you won't mind -letting me have passports for them. You can post-date them, of course. I -shouldn't then have to intrude on you again." -</p> - -<p> -"You are very kind. The passports post-dated, say, a week from to-day -will be in the bureau at your disposal whenever you like to call for -them. You understand that I should revoke them if at least one of these -articles has not appeared within the week." -</p> - -<p> -"I quite understand," Peter concluded. Everything now being in order, he -slipped the receipt into his pocket-book, then, without further words, -he handed Rosemary's manuscript over to Naniescu. -</p> - -<p> -"You have the covering letter," he said simply. -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu nodded, and he took the papers with a sigh of satisfaction, -which he did not even attempt to disguise. His ill-temper had vanished. -The day-dream was coming true: the journey to Bucharest, the thanks of -his King, the reward from a grateful Government! Naniescu felt at peace -with all the world. He would even have hugged Peter to his breast. -</p> - -<p> -"We part the best of friends," he said suavely, "my dear Monsieur -Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh! the very best," Peter assented. -</p> - -<p> -"And when you come to take possession of Kis-Imre you will command my -services, I hope." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not fail to do so." -</p> - -<p> -"I will see to it that you can do it at the earliest possible moment. By -the way," Naniescu went on with some hesitation, "the furniture—and -other contents of the château—they are not included in the sale, of -course." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course not." -</p> - -<p> -"You won't mind the Imreys having those? It might create an unpleasant -impression—if we were to——er——" -</p> - -<p> -"It might," Peter assented. -</p> - -<p> -"I was sure you would agree with me about that," Naniescu rejoined -unctuously. "Then what would you like us to do in the matter?" -</p> - -<p> -"Leave everything as it is until you hear from me again. The British -Consul will look after things for me." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah!" Naniescu concluded with perfect affability, "then I don't think I -need detain you any longer, my dear young friend. May I express the wish -that you will spend long and happy years in this beautiful country." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank you." -</p> - -<p> -Peter did not shake hands with either of the two men, but he caught -Kervoisin's glance and gave him a pleasant nod. To Naniescu he said just -before leaving: -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose you have realised that Lady Tarkington will probably wish to -start for England immediately." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, my dear young friend," Naniescu replied blandly. "I have realised -that, and I have taken measures accordingly. But how kind of you to -remind me!" -</p> - -<p> -And when Peter finally went out of the room the general, breathless, -perspiring, nerve-racked, threw himself into a chair and exclaimed: -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Il n'y a pas à dire!</i> They are astonishing, these English!" -</p> - -<p> -He poured himself out a glass of fine and drank it down at one gulp. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you ever see such an unmitigated young blackguard?" he exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -But de Kervoisin had remained thoughtful. His shrewd, pale eyes were -fixed upon the door through which Peter had just disappeared. Naniescu -had taken his handkerchief and was mopping his streaming forehead and -his neck round the edge of his collar. -</p> - -<p> -"I feel quite sick," he murmured. "Ah, these English! <i>mon ami.</i> You -do not know them as I do. I firmly believe that they would sell their -fathers, their mothers, their sisters, or their wives if they saw money -in the transaction." -</p> - -<p> -Kervoisin made no comment on this tirade; after a while he asked -abruptly: "What are you doing to prevent the lovely Uno from putting a -spoke in your wheel?" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu gave a complacent laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Doing?" he retorted. "Why, I've already done everything, my friend. My -courier starts to-night for London with Lady Tarkington's letter and -manuscript. He will be in London on Monday evening. On Tuesday he will -call on the editor of the <i>Times.</i> Ostensibly he is Lady Tarkington's -messenger. When he has delivered the letter he will ask for a reply. -That reply he will telegraph to me. Then we shall know where we are." -</p> - -<p> -He drank another glass of <i>fine</i>, then he went on: -</p> - -<p> -"I have no doubt that the fair Uno has already got her boxes packed and -is ready to start for England by the express to-night, but——" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu paused. He stretched out his legs, examined the toes of his -boots and the smoke of his cigar; his face wore an expression of fatuous -self-satisfaction. "I think," he said, "that you will be surprised at -what I have done in the time. And so will the fair Uno," he added with -an expressive twinkle in his fine, dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"What about friend Number Ten?" Kervoisin remarked dryly. -</p> - -<p> -"Well," Naniescu retorted with his affected smile, "I imagine that -friend Number Ten will be the most surprised of the lot." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI</a></h4> - -<p> -At Kis-Imre the day dragged on leaden-footed. Luncheon, then a long -afternoon, then dinner. Time wore on and Elza had not returned. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary was ready, dressed for the journey; her suit-case was packed. -She was only taking a very little luggage with her as she had every -intention of returning as soon as her errand in London was accomplished. -She would not for the world have left Elza alone too long with her -troubles. She made herself no illusions with regard to the telegram -which she had sent from the village. It would, she was sure, be -intercepted, and Naniescu would not allow it to go. Rosemary's intention -was to send another directly she was the other side of the frontier. -This would prevent the articles being published hurriedly, and, of -course, she would be in London thirty-six hours later. -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, the odious deed which Peter had planned and carried through -appeared to her now not only in its hideousness but in its futility. -What did he hope to accomplish? Did he know her so little as to imagine -that she would merely call the occurrence an adverse blow of Fate and -quietly sit down under it, be content to send one wire which would be -intercepted? It was futile! Futile! She was a British subject. She had a -British passport. No power on earth could stop her from going to London -or to the outermost ends of the earth if she had a mind. No one. Not -even Jasper. Least of all Jasper! -</p> - -<p> -But in the meanwhile Elza had not returned. Time went on, slowly but -certainly. Eight o'clock, nine o'clock—ten o'clock. Unless Elza was -home within the next half-hour Rosemary could not start for London -before the next night. There was only one through train to Budapest -every twenty-four hours, the midnight express! Any other slow train -would be no help for getting the communication with the Orient Express. -</p> - -<p> -And Rosemary could not go to London without knowing what Elza's wishes -were. Elza was to decide—not she. And Elza had not come home. Soon -after ten o'clock Rosemary sent Rosa round to Maurus' apartments to ask -if she might see him. She hoped that he could perhaps tell her something -definite about Elza's movements. Rosemary found him very much altered -since last she had seen him. He looked well in health, but his whole -expression, even his appearance, seemed strange. The gipsy strain was -more apparent, the eyes seemed darker and more restless, the mouth -redder and fuller, and the nose more hooked and narrower across the -bridge. But he talked very quietly and rationally with Rosemary. He was -not anxious about Elza, because he had not really expected to see her -back this evening. -</p> - -<p> -"She was going to Cluj first," he said, "to see Philip and Anna. -Probably it took time to get permission to visit the children in prison. -Then after that she was going to Ujlak. I suppose she wanted to let -Charlotte know how little Anna is getting on. Poor child! Poor child!" -Maurus went on slowly, wagging his head. "Isn't it pitiable? She is such -a nice little girl. And my Philip—my Philip——" -</p> - -<p> -He rambled on, and his speech became thick and unintelligible. The -sister in charge gave Rosemary a hint that it would be better for her to -go. Rosemary rose at once. -</p> - -<p> -"Well, my dear Maurus," she said, "I don't want to tire you. I thought -perhaps you might know something definite about Elza. But if you are not -anxious about her I am sure it is all right." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, yes, yes, it is all right. You see, she went to visit the children. -Then she was going to Ujlak. It is a long way for the horses——" -</p> - -<p> -"You don't think she would stay in Cluj for the night?" -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know. I don't know. She was going to Cluj first to see the -children—then she was going to Ujlak. It is a long way for the -horses—Elza will stay with Charlotte for the night. A hard woman, -Charlotte. But Anna is such a nice child. And my Philip—my -Philip——" -</p> - -<p> -The mind was obviously wandering. Maurus, while he spoke, was staring -straight out before him. Rosemary tried to explain to him that she had -to go away on business for a day or two and had hoped to start this -evening, but she could not go, of course, without seeing Elza first. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! you are going away, dear Lady Tarkington?" the invalid said with a -quick gleam in his restless, dark eyes. "I wish I could go with you. I -am so sick of this place, and now that my Philip has gone. . . . But how -can you go to-night, dear Lady Tarkington?" -</p> - -<p> -"I won't go before I have seen Elza." -</p> - -<p> -"No, no, you must not go before Elza comes. I have only the one -comfortable carriage now. They lave taken everything from me, my horses, -my cattle, my carriages, and my motor-cars—I can't send you to Cluj -in comfort until Elza comes back in the carriage—I have another pair -of horses—but no comfortable carriage. They took everything away from -me. Soon they will turn me out of this house——" -</p> - -<p> -"Don't worry about that, dear, my husband has the use of a small car and -a soldier-chauffeur. We can get to Cluj all right." -</p> - -<p> -The sister in charge interposed again, more peremptorily this time. -Rosemary took as cheerful a farewell of the invalid as she could. -</p> - -<p> -"You must arrange," she said, "as soon as you are well enough, to come -over to us in England for a visit. It would be such a change for you, -and Jasper and I would make you and Elza very welcome." -</p> - -<p> -But Maurus shook his head, and stared straight out before him. "That, -dear Lady Tarkington," he said, "can never be now." And slowly the tears -gathered in his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Broken-hearted, -Rosemary bade him a final good night. -</p> - -<p> -There was only one more chance of getting in touch with Elza to-night, -and that was to ascertain if she were staying at any of the hotels in -Cluj. And this Jasper did at Rosemary's request. He telephoned to the -"Pannonia" and to the "New York," the only possible places where Elza -might have put up for the night. True, when the Roumanian Government -took over the Imrey palace two or three rooms were allowed to remain in -possession of the family if they required them, but it was not likely -that Elza would elect to sleep under the same roof as General Naniescu. -Both hotels replied on the telephone that the gracious Countess Imrey -was not there. Ujlak, unfortunately, had not the telephone installed. -</p> - -<p> -There was then nothing to be done. -</p> - -<p> -But the next day was even more trying than the one before. The morning -wore on and there was no news of Elza. Anxiety for her friend was added -to the heavy load which Rosemary had to bear. Anxiety and this -unexpected uncertainty, which was positive torture. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper, on the other hand, had become both helpful and sympathetic. -Already the day before he had announced his intention of accompanying -Rosemary to London. At first she had protested, but he looked so -contrite and so abashed that she relented, and said more graciously: -</p> - -<p> -"It is more than kind of you, dear, to suggest it, but I really am quite -capable of looking after myself." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't doubt it," he had replied with a sigh, "but I, too, have -certain privileges, chief of which is looking after your welfare—and -your safety." -</p> - -<p> -She laughed. "I am perfectly safe. No one is going to run away with me." -</p> - -<p> -"You might have trouble on the frontier." -</p> - -<p> -"Not very likely," she retorted, "with a British passport." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had made no further remark just then, and the subject was -dropped. But Rosemary knew from his manner and his look that he intended -to accompany her. It would be no use protesting, though she had the -feeling that she would so much rather have travelled alone. -</p> - -<p> -But when the morning of the next day went by without news of Elza, -Jasper was ready with a fresh suggestion. "Let me go to London for you," -he said. "I could see the editor of the <i>Times</i> and ask him in any -case to withhold publication until he heard from you. Then after that if -Elza's decision went the other way, you could always wire or write -again." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary hesitated for a moment or two. She could not very well put into -words the thought that was in her mind. But Jasper presently did it for -her. -</p> - -<p> -"You do not trust me," he said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -For another fraction of a second she hesitated, then with a frank -gesture of camaraderie she put her hand out to him: "I think I ought to -carry my own business through myself," she said, and added softly: "You -understand, dear, don't you?" -</p> - -<p> -She could always win any man over with her smile, and at the soft tone -of her voice Jasper captured her hand and buried his face in the soft, -smooth palm. -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me how I can serve you," he said, "but in God's name don't go away -from me." -</p> - -<p> -He was once more all kindness and consideration, more like the charming -companion of the early days of her brief married life. With utmost -patience he discussed the whole situation with her: the possibility of -getting in touch with Elza and the advisability of communicating with -the <i>Times</i> in any case, leaving it open for an ultimate change of -tactics. -</p> - -<p> -But though he was so kind, so unselfish, so generous, Rosemary could not -respond in the same way as she had done in the past. Her confidence in -him had been wavering for some time, whenever those wild outbursts of -ungovernable passion, when he claimed her body and her soul as he would -a slave or a chattel, had outraged as well as mystified her, and she -could not free her mind from that vision which she had of him in the -mirror yesterday, with his mouth parted in a cruel, wolfish grin. The -dual nature in him puzzled her. She would not admit that she feared him, -because she had never in her life been afraid of any one, but she did -own to a certain vague dread which would creep into her heart whenever -she found herself alone with him; she had accepted his kisses at first, -hoping that in time friendship and confidence would turn to warmer -feeling, but she had a horror of them now, and knew that the last shred -of friendship was being torn to rags by all that was violent, passionate -and cruel in him. At the same time she did admit quite readily that he -was very helpful and kind in the present emergency, and gladly did she -accept his final offer to motor straightway to Cluj to see if he could -find out something definite about Elza. -</p> - -<p> -"If she was not at Cluj," he said, "I would go on to Ujlak; and, in any -case, I can be back by about eight o'clock. If in the meanwhile, as I -hope and think, Elza has turned up, we can make our plans in accordance -with what she has decided, and either start for England at once, or -leave matters as they stand." -</p> - -<p> -The suggestion was so practical that Rosemary felt really grateful. She -walked with him to the village where he garaged the car that Naniescu -had lent him. It was a powerful little car, of a well-known French make -and built for speed. The soldier-chauffeur was fortunately on the spot, -and with a friendly handshake Rosemary wished her husband God-speed. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know how I shall live through this day!" she said to him at the -last. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper was very self-contained and practical. He satisfied himself that -everything about the car was in order, then only did he get in. He took -the wheel and waved Rosemary a last farewell, and very soon the car -disappeared down the road in a cloud of dust. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII</a></h4> - -<p> -General Naniescu was enjoying himself thoroughly. He had his friend -Number Ten sitting there opposite him, and Number Ten was looking as -savage as a bear. Naniescu had offered him a cigar, a glass of fine, -even whiskey and soda, but Number Ten had declined everything and -remained very truculent. -</p> - -<p> -"You had no right," he said, with a savage oath, "to go behind my back." -</p> - -<p> -But Naniescu was at his blandest. "What could I do, my dear friend?" he -asked, and waved his white, downy hands to emphasise by appropriate -gesture, both his perplexity and his contrition. "What would you have -had me do? Decline to deal with that young Blakeney? Then those precious -articles would have been lost to me for ever. Lady Tarkington would not -have written them all over again." -</p> - -<p> -"I told you the other day that I would get those articles for you. Ask -M. de Kervoisin here if I have ever failed in anything I have -undertaken. I had the manuscript in my hand when that young blackguard -snatched it out of my hand. Curse him!" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu leaned back in his chair and gave a guttural, complacent laugh: -"I do agree with you, my dear friend," he said. "That young Blakeney is -an unmitigated blackguard. I have had to deal with some in my day, but -never with such a corrupt, dirty scoundrel. Yes, dirty, that's what he -is. But you know, you English, you are astonishing! Everything big with -you—big fellows, big Empire, big money, big blackguards! Yes, big -blackguards! Oh, là, là!" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," Number Ten assented dryly. "And the big blackguard who is also a -big fellow, got big money out of you, for you have been a fool, as well -as a knave, my friend. I only asked you ten thousand sterling for the -manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"Are you pretending that you know what I paid Blakeney?" Naniescu asked, -with his most fatuous smile. "Because, my friend, in picturesque poker -parlance—I am very fond of a game of poker myself—and in poker -language we call what you are doing now 'bluff.' You don't know what I -paid Blakeney for the manuscript. But I don't mind telling you that I -paid nothing at all. Yes, my dear friend, nothing at all." -</p> - -<p> -And with the tip of his well-manicured little finger, Naniescu -emphasised every syllable with a tap on the table. -</p> - -<p> -"I am glad to hear it," Number Ten retorted curtly, "because that will -make it easier for you to pay me the ten thousand now." -</p> - -<p> -But this idea amused the General so much that he nearly rolled off his -chair laughing. -</p> - -<p> -"<i>Ils sont impayables ces Anglais!</i>" he said, when with streaming eyes -and scanty breath he found words to express his sense of the ludicrous. -"Why in the name of Tophet should I pay you ten thousand pounds -sterling?" -</p> - -<p> -"Because if you don't, those newspaper articles will never be -published." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, bah!" Naniescu exclaimed, with a mocking grin, "who will prevent -it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I, of course." -</p> - -<p> -"You, of course? How, I should like to know?" -</p> - -<p> -"That's my business." -</p> - -<p> -"You can't do it, my friend," Naniescu rejoined complacently. "You can't -do it. I defy you to do it." -</p> - -<p> -"Is that a challenge?" -</p> - -<p> -Number Ten had said this very quietly. He was in the act of lighting a -cigarette when he spoke, and he finished lighting it, blew out the -match, and threw it into the nearest ash-tray before he glanced at -Naniescu. Then he smiled, because Naniescu's face expressed arrogance -first, then bewilderment, and finally indecision. -</p> - -<p> -"Is it a challenge?" he reiterated sardonically. "I don't mind, you know, -one way or the other. There are at least three governments—neighbours -of yours, by the way—who will pay me ten thousand pounds apiece -for certain services which they require, and which I can render them. -But you have behaved like a knave and a fool, my friend, and it will -amuse me to punish you. So listen to me! Unless you give me a cheque -for the ten thousand pounds which you promised me, and which I can -cash at your fusty old bank over the way this very afternoon, I -guarantee you that Lady Tarkington's articles will not be published -in any English newspaper." -</p> - -<p> -He smoked on in silence for a little while longer, blowing rings of -smoke through his pursed lips, and in the intervals laughing softly, -mockingly to himself, or throwing an occasional glance of intelligence -in the direction of Kervoisin, who apparently immersed in a book had -taken no part in the conversation. Naniescu's bewilderment had become -ludicrous, and at one moment when he took his perfumed handkerchief out -of his pocket and mopped his streaming forehead, the face of his -spy-in-chief became distorted with that look of ferocious cruelty which -was so characteristic of him. -</p> - -<p> -"I haven't a great deal of time to spare," Number Ten remarked dryly, -after a few minutes' silence; "if you accept my challenge I start for -London to-night." -</p> - -<p> -"You'll never get there in time," Naniescu rejoined, with an attempt at -swagger. -</p> - -<p> -Number Ten smiled. "Don't you think so?" he asked simply. -</p> - -<p> -"The frontier is closed——" -</p> - -<p> -"Would you rather risk it than pay me the ten thousand pounds?" -</p> - -<p> -Naniescu appealed to his friend. -</p> - -<p> -"De Kervoisin——" he said, almost pitiably. -</p> - -<p> -But M. de Kervoisin, with a shrug, indicated that this was no concern of -his. -</p> - -<p> -"M. de Kervoisin," Number Ten said, still smiling, "knows my methods. -During the war I had other and more dangerous frontiers to cross than -this one, my friend—and I never failed." -</p> - -<p> -In Naniescu's puny mind, obviously a war was waging between greed and -avarice. He was seeing his beautiful day-dream vanishing into the -intangible ether—whence come all dreams—and he was not prepared -to take any risks. Those articles which a reliable courier was even now -taking to London with all speed were the most precious things he, -Naniescu, had ever possessed. They meant honour, security, money—far -more money than Number Ten was demanding with such outrageous impudence. -And Naniescu was afraid of Number Ten, afraid of his daring, his -courage, his unscrupulous determination to carry through what he had set -out to do. -</p> - -<p> -Ten thousand pounds! It was a great deal, but it would come out of -secret service funds, not out of Naniescu's own pocket. There was only -that slight tickling of one's amour propre to subdue. The desire to get -the better of Number Ten, to win this battle of wits against so crafty -an opponent. But what was <i>amour propre</i> when weighed in the balance -with the realisation of Naniescu's wonderful day-dreams? -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless he made one more effort at a bargain. -</p> - -<p> -"If I pay you that ten thousand," he said, with a savage oath, "what -guarantee have I that the articles <i>will</i> be published?" -</p> - -<p> -"None," was Number Ten's cool reply; "but if you don't pay me the ten -thousand, I guarantee that they will <i>not</i> be published." -</p> - -<p> -At which M. de Kervoisin put down his book and indulged in a good laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Take care, my friend," he said to Number Ten, "our friend here is -beginning to lose his temper, and you may find yourself under lock and -key before he has done with you." -</p> - -<p> -"I wonder!" Number Ten retorted dryly. "It would mean raising hell in -the English press, wouldn't it? if a British subject—what?" -</p> - -<p> -He did not pursue the subject. Even Naniescu himself had put such a -possibility out of his reckoning. -</p> - -<p> -"All that our friend could do," Number Ten went on, speaking over his -shoulder to M. de Kervoisin, "would be to have me murdered, but he would -find even that rather difficult. Ten thousand pounds of secret service -money is considerably safer—and cheaper in the end." -</p> - -<p> -Then at last Naniescu gave in. "Oh, have it your own way, curse you!" he -exclaimed. -</p> - -<p> -"The money now," Number Ten said coolly, raising a warning finger. "You -may as well send one of your clerks over to the bank for it. I prefer -that to taking your cheque." -</p> - -<p> -Then he turned to Kervoisin, and picked up the book which the latter had -thrown down on the table. "Ah!" he remarked, with a total change of -tone, "Marcel Proust's latest. You are an epicure in literature, my -friend." -</p> - -<p> -He fingered the book, seemingly as indifferent to what Naniescu was -doing and saying, as if the whole matter of a ten thousand pound cheque -did not concern him in the least. -</p> - -<p> -The general had gone across to a desk which stood in the farther corner -of the room. He had written out a cheque, rung the bell, and was now -giving orders to a clerk to fetch the money from the Anglo-Roumanian -bank over the way. -</p> - -<p> -On the whole he was not displeased with the transaction. The articles -signed by Uno and published in the <i>Times</i> would redound to his -credit, would bring him all that he had striven for all his life; and, -after all, they would cost him nothing—nothing at all. -</p> - -<p> -Number Ten and de Kervoisin were discussing Marcel Proust; he, Naniescu, -was savouring his day-dreams once again; and presently when the clerk -returned with a bundle of crisp English bank-notes in his hand, Naniescu -handed the money over to his spy-in-chief, without a qualm, and -certainly without regret. -</p> - -<p> -"This being Monday," Number Ten said, after he had stowed the money away -in his pocket-book, "and your courier having started last night, you -will probably see the first of the articles in Thursday's <i>Times.</i> By -the way," he went on casually, "what are you doing about young Imrey and -the girl?" -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean by that? What should I be doing with them?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, when these articles appear——" -</p> - -<p> -"I send them packing, <i>c'est entendu.</i> I never go back on my word," -Naniescu said, with a grandiose gesture. -</p> - -<p> -"It would not pay you to do that in this case, my friend. Lady -Tarkington has your written promise, and she would raise hell if you -played her false. But I wasn't thinking of that. I only wished to warn -you to keep an eye on those two young firebrands." -</p> - -<p> -"Oh," Naniescu retorted, with a shrug, "once I have them out of the -country they can do what they like. They no longer hurt me. Especially -after the publication of those beautiful articles." -</p> - -<p> -"That is so, but you are sending Count and Countess Imrey out of the -country, aren't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"What makes you say that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, you paid Blakeney for the articles with the title deeds of -Kis-Imre, didn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"How did you know that?" -</p> - -<p> -"I didn't," Number Ten replied dryly. "I guessed, and you gave yourself -away." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, and if I did—what is it to you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Nothing, my friend. Nothing. I come back to my original warning. Keep a -close eye on young Imrey and Anna Heves, and above all keep a close eye -on Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -"That young blackguard?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, that young blackguard! He may be playing a double game, you know. -I suppose he is still in Cluj?" -</p> - -<p> -"I thought of that," Naniescu broke in curtly, "so I have had Imrey and -the Heves girl transferred to Sót." -</p> - -<p> -"Sót? Isn't that rather near the frontier?" -</p> - -<p> -"Thirty kilomètres." -</p> - -<p> -"But why Sót?" -</p> - -<p> -"We have commandeered a château there, which we use as a prison for -political offenders. We chose it because it stands alone in an -out-of-the-way part of the country, and it saves the nuisance of public -manifestations and disturbances when a prisoner who happens to have been -popular is condemned. We try them by a military tribunal which holds its -sittings at Sót, and if an execution is imperative—well, it is done -without any fuss." -</p> - -<p> -"I see. Well," Number Ten went on, as he rose to take his leave, "I need -not detain you any longer. Let me assure you," he concluded, with his -habitual sardonic smile, "that I shall not now think of interfering with -any of the measures which you have adopted to stop Lady Tarkington from -running after her manuscript." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't believe that you could have interfered in any case," Naniescu -retorted gruffly. -</p> - -<p> -"It is not too late, my friend. I would rather like to pit my wits -against yours. So if you have repented of the bargain——" And -Number Ten half drew his bulging pocket-book out of his pocket. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, go to the devil!" Naniescu exclaimed, half in rage and half in -laughter. -</p> - -<p> -"And I hope soon to meet you in his company," Number Ten replied, as he -finally took his leave from the two men. -</p> - -<p> -As soon as the door had closed on him, Naniescu turned and looked at his -friend. But de Kervoisin had picked up his book, and gave him no -encouragement to discuss the intriguing personality of Number Ten. His -face, too, was quite inscrutable. Marcel Proust was engaging his full -attention. For a moment it seemed as if Naniescu would fall back on his -stock phrase, or else on a string of cosmopolitan oaths; he even drew -his breath ready for either; then it seemed as if words failed him. -</p> - -<p> -The intriguing personality was above comment. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary had never before welcomed her husband so eagerly as she did -that afternoon. As soon as she heard the whirring of his motor she ran -to the gates to meet him. -</p> - -<p> -"What news?" she cried when he had brought the car to a standstill. -</p> - -<p> -As usual, his dark eyes flashed with joy when he saw her. He jumped down -and raised both her hands to his lips. -</p> - -<p> -"Very vague, I am afraid," he replied. "And some of it a mere -conjecture." -</p> - -<p> -"Tell me." -</p> - -<p> -"To begin with, young Imrey and Anna Heves have been transferred to -Sót." -</p> - -<p> -"Where is that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Between Cluj and the frontier. It seems that there is a château there -that is being used as a prison for political offenders." -</p> - -<p> -"Who told you that?" -</p> - -<p> -"Naniescu. I saw him for a moment. He was very busily engaged with the -Minister for Home Affairs who was over from Bucharest, so he could only -give me a few minutes." -</p> - -<p> -"Had he seen Elza?" -</p> - -<p> -"No. But she had applied for permission to see Philip and Anna, and he -gave the permission. He supposed that she had gone on to Sót by train." -</p> - -<p> -"Even so," Rosemary mused, "she would be back by now, or else she would -have wired." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper appeared to hesitate for a moment or two, and then he said: "I -don't think that she has been allowed to do either." -</p> - -<p> -"Why not?" -</p> - -<p> -"It is mere surmise, my dear," Jasper went on quietly, "but one thing -Naniescu did tell me, and that was that he had on behalf of his -government definitely made over the Kis-Imre estates to Peter Blakeney." -</p> - -<p> -They were walking round the house towards the veranda when he said this. -Rosemary made no response; indeed, it might be thought that she had not -heard, for the next question which she put to Jasper appeared -irrelevant. -</p> - -<p> -"Does the midnight express stop at Sót?" -</p> - -<p> -"It does," Jasper replied. -</p> - -<p> -"Then I can see Elza there. I am sure that is where she is. You inquired -at Ujlak?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, Elza went there first and then to Cluj." -</p> - -<p> -They had reached the veranda now, and Rosemary went up the steps and -then into the house. -</p> - -<p> -"You still wish to come with me to-night?" she asked her husband before -she went upstairs. -</p> - -<p> -"Why, of course." -</p> - -<p> -"You are not too tired after all this running about?" -</p> - -<p> -"I?" he exclaimed with a laugh. "Tired? When it is a question of being -near you!" -</p> - -<p> -He tried to capture her wrist, but she evaded him and ran quickly -through the hall and up the stairs. Before going into her room she -called down to him: -</p> - -<p> -"If we use your motor we need not start before eleven o'clock, and there -is still a chance of Elza being home before then." -</p> - -<p> -It was just before dinner that the culminating tragedy occurred. -Rosemary was in her room, when she heard loud commotion coming from the -hall—harsh, peremptory voices, a word or two from Anton, and then -Jasper's voice raised as if in protest. She opened her door, and to her -horror saw a squad of soldiers in the hall, and between them an officer, -and a man in civilian clothes who had an official-looking paper in his -hand and was apparently explaining something to Jasper. -</p> - -<p> -"I regret, my lord, but these are my orders," the man was saying, "and I -cannot enter into any discussion with you." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper tried to protest again. "But surely——" he began. The -man, however, cut him short. -</p> - -<p> -"If you like," he said, "I can allow you to see Count Imrey first, but -this order I must deliver into his own hands." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary in the meanwhile had run downstairs. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Jasper?" she asked quickly. -</p> - -<p> -"An order of eviction," Jasper replied curtly, "against that wretched -Maurus." -</p> - -<p> -"Whatever does that mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"That he must quit this place within twenty-four hours." -</p> - -<p> -"Impossible!" she exclaimed hotly. -</p> - -<p> -She turned to the officer and the civilian who had brought this -monstrous order. -</p> - -<p> -"The whole thing is a mistake," she said coolly; "some error in the -name. Count Imrey is a loyal subject of the King. There has never been a -hint of disloyalty levelled against him." -</p> - -<p> -The officer in charge gave a curt laugh and shrugged his shoulders, and -the civilian said with a sneer: -</p> - -<p> -"They all say that, milady. They are all wonderfully loyal after they -have been found out." -</p> - -<p> -"But General Naniescu himself is a friend of the family. And Lord -Tarkington and I can vouch——" -</p> - -<p> -"Pardon, milady," the civilian broke in coldly. "This affair does not -concern you or Lord Tarkington, and the order of eviction is signed on -behalf of the present owner of Kis-Imre by His Excellency the Governor -himself." -</p> - -<p> -"On behalf——" -</p> - -<p> -It was Rosemary who spoke, but the sound of her voice might have come -out of a grave. She had never been so near to swooning in her life. The -walls around her, the woodwork, the stairs, all took on distorted -shapes, and moved, round and round and up and down, until everything was -a blur through which the faces of the Roumanian officer and the civilian -stared at her and grinned. "On behalf of the present owner of Kis-Imre!" -But that was Peter! Peter! And the world did not totter, the earth did -not quake, and engulf all these monstrous crimes, this cruelty and this -shame. -</p> - -<p> -Luckily none of the Roumanians appeared to have noticed this sudden -weakness in her; the civilian was consulting with the officer whether he -should allow milord Tarkington to break the awful news to Maurus. -Neither raised any objection, and Jasper pronounced himself ready to go. -Rosemary turned appealingly to him: -</p> - -<p> -"You will be very patient, Jasper," she begged, "and very, very gentle?" -</p> - -<p> -"Leave it to me, dear," he responded; "I'll do my best." -</p> - -<p> -When he was gone, Rosemary mechanically asked the officer and his -companion to come into the smoking-room and sit down. She offered -cigarettes. They made her ceremonious bows, and were as polite and -conventional as circumstances demanded. She tried to talk; she even -asked questions; but they were diplomatically ignorant of everything -except of their duty. They explained that this consisted in seeing Count -Imrey personally, and giving the eviction order into his own hands. -</p> - -<p> -"It will kill him," Rosemary said, with conviction, "or else send him -out of his mind." -</p> - -<p> -Both the men shrugged. They had seen so much of this sort of thing, one -of them said, people always threatened to die or to go mad, but nothing -of the sort had ever happened. -</p> - -<p> -"Are you quite sure of that?" Rosemary retorted. -</p> - -<p> -Somehow the episode had brought back into the forefront of her -consciousness her responsibility with regard to her newspaper articles. -Not that conscience had been dormant, but Peter's infamy had been such -an overwhelming shock that every other emotion had slipped away into the -background. But now it all came back to her. Those articles of hers if -they were published would be a justification of all this—of these -orders of eviction, the sort of thing that men died of, or went mad over -out of grief, while officials shrugged their shoulders, having seen it -all so often. -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes after Jasper returned and Maurus was with him. At sight of -Maurus Rosemary had risen from her chair as if drawn up by mechanical -force, and she remained standing, staring at the man whom she had last -seen as a fragile weakling, babbling incoherent words. Maurus had -dressed himself with unusual care. It almost seemed as if he had been -expecting visitors. Rosemary had never seen him with hair so sleekly -brushed, or chin so smooth. The officer and the civilian had risen to -greet him, and he went up to them with perfect calm, inquiring politely -what they desired to say to him. Rosemary turned a questioning glance on -Jasper. He, too, appeared puzzled, and followed Maurus' every movement -as if he dreaded that something would happen presently, and all the -man's self-possession disintegrate in a tempest of fury. -</p> - -<p> -But nothing of the sort happened. Maurus took the order from the -civilian, and read it through carefully. Not a muscle of his face -twitched, and his hands were perfectly steady. For the moment Rosemary -wondered whether this outward calm was not some form of madness. -</p> - -<p> -"I can't understand it," she whispered to Jasper, while the three men -were engaged together. -</p> - -<p> -"I am just as puzzled as you are," Jasper replied. "I never thought that -he would take it like that." -</p> - -<p> -"So long as he is not just putting a terrible strain on himself—in -which case the reaction will be frightful." -</p> - -<p> -Maurus was now taking leave of the officials. -</p> - -<p> -"I quite understand the position," he said quietly. "If I had bought a -house, I, too, would wish to take possession of it as soon as possible. -Perhaps," he added, with a smile, "I should not have been quite in such -a hurry, but we all know that with the English time is money, eh, -messieurs? And now all I need do is to thank you for your courtesy. I -will comply with the order, chiefly because I have no choice." -</p> - -<p> -It was almost unbelievable. Rosemary thought that her eyes and ears must -be playing her a trick. The two Roumanians took their leave with their -habitual elaborate politeness and Maurus himself saw them to his front -door, where the squad of soldiers still stood at attention. When they -had all gone, he came back into the smoking-room, and he was actually -laughing when he entered. -</p> - -<p> -"Did you ever see such swine?" he said lightly, and then apologised to -Rosemary for his language. -</p> - -<p> -"You are taking it so bravely, Maurus dear," Rosemary murmured -bewildered. "But what about Elza?" -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, she prepared me for it; she knew all about it yesterday, and she -sent me word what to bring along in the way of clothes for her. And, of -course, there will be her jewellery, and one or two little things to see -to. However, I have got twenty-four hours before me, and there will be -Anton and Rosa to help me." -</p> - -<p> -"But, Maurus dear——" -</p> - -<p> -"You are astonished, dear Lady Tarkington," Maurus broke in, with rather -a sad smile, "to see me take it all so calmly. I was born in this house, -and I always thought that I would die in it; but lately these walls have -seen so much sorrow and so many villainies that I would just as soon -turn my back on them." -</p> - -<p> -"But what does Elza feel about it?" -</p> - -<p> -"The same as I do. She writes quite calmly." -</p> - -<p> -"When did you hear from her?" -</p> - -<p> -"Early this afternoon, so you see I was prepared." -</p> - -<p> -"But where is she?" Rosemary asked insistently. -</p> - -<p> -"She was at Sót when she wrote to me. She had seen Philip and Anna. And -she was on the point of leaving for Hódmezö. This was late last night. -She is in Hungary by now—and in safety. Please God I shall be with -her soon." -</p> - -<p> -He still spoke quite quietly, in short, crisp sentences, with nothing of -the rambling and babbling about his speech that had been so pathetic to -witness yesterday. But though Rosemary ought to have felt reassured and -comforted about him, she could not rid herself of a persistent feeling -of dread: the same sort of feeling that invades the nerves at the -manifestation of a supernatural phenomenon. There was nothing -supernatural about Maurus certainly, but his attitude was so abnormal, -so unlike himself, that Rosemary caught herself watching with -ever-increasing anxiety for the moment when his real, violent nature -would reassert itself. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later the dinner-bell rang, and Maurus was full of -apologies. -</p> - -<p> -"My stupid affairs have prevented your getting on with your packing, -dear Lady Tarkington. Can you forgive me?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary could only assure him that all her packing was done. "And, -anyway," she added, "as Jasper has a car we need not start before eleven -o'clock." -</p> - -<p> -"Ah, then," Maurus said, and offered her his arm to lead her into the -dining-room, "we need not hurry over dinner; and I shall have the -pleasure of two or three more hours of your company." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper all the while had been strangely silent. Rosemary could see that -he was just as much puzzled as she was, and that he was studying Maurus -very keenly while the latter was talking. During dinner and while the -servants were about, the conversation drifted to indifferent subjects. -This was the first time that Maurus had had a meal in the dining-room -since he was taken ill four days ago, and he was like a child enjoying -his food, and delighted with everything. It was only when coffee had -been brought in and the servants had gone away that he reverted to the -important subject of his departure. -</p> - -<p> -"My chief cause of regret, dear Lady Tarkington," he said, "is that I -cannot welcome you here when you return from your journey. But perhaps -we could meet at Budapest, not? Elza speaks about that in her letter to -me. She is very anxious to see you." -</p> - -<p> -"I shall break my journey at Hódmezö," Rosemary said, "and probably -wait there twenty-four hours till you come." -</p> - -<p> -She had it in her mind that she could wire from there to the <i>Times</i> -office, and in any case she had to see Elza. -</p> - -<p> -"There are two good hotels in Hódmezö," Maurus rejoined. "Elza is -staying at the Bristol. A very grand name for a simple provincial hotel, -but it is very comfortable, I believe. Peter Blakeney's cricket people -stayed there last week, you know." -</p> - -<p> -He even could mention Peter's name calmly; and a quaint old English -saying came to Rosemary's mind, one that she was fond of repeating in -past days whenever her professional activities brought her in contact -with extraordinary people. "Nought so queer as folk!" She almost said it -aloud; for never in all her life had she witnessed anything so strange -as this metamorphosis of a violent-tempered, morbid epileptic into a -calm, sensible man of the world, who takes things as he finds them, and -Fate's heaviest blows without wearing his heart on his sleeve. -</p> - -<p> -"I shall not forget the Bristol at Hódmezö," she said, after a little -while, "and I will certainly remain with Elza until you come. Perhaps I -can help her to endure the suspense." -</p> - -<p> -"Perhaps." -</p> - -<p> -"How did her letter get to you? Through the post?" -</p> - -<p> -"No; she tent a peasant over from Sót, a lad who lives in Kis-Imre, and -was returning home. You know him, dear Lady Tarkington—him and his -brother—the two sons of Jànos the miller." -</p> - -<p> -"Those two brave lads who——" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary paused abruptly. The last thing she wanted to do was to bring -back to Maurus' memory that fateful night of the children's abortive -escape; but Maurus himself broke in quietly: -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, the two fellows who helped us all they could that night when -Philip and Anna tried to get out of the country. The attempt was -unsuccessful, as you know. Philip and Anna were captured. They are in -Sót now. But the two sons of Jànos—I forget their names—got -over the frontier safely. They joined the cricketers at Hódmezö, and are -safely back at the mill now." -</p> - -<p> -"Thank God," Rosemary exclaimed fervently, "they did not suffer for -their devotion." -</p> - -<p> -"No, I am glad of that," Maurus concluded, with obvious indifference. -"But the authorities don't trouble about the peasants. It is the landed -aristocracy and the professional classes who have to suffer, if they -belong to the conquered race." -</p> - -<p> -It was past ten o'clock before the small party broke up. During the -latter part of the time it had been Rosemary's turn to become silent. -Maurus started the subject of politics, and Jasper carried on a -desultory argument with him on that inexhaustible question. In almost -weird contrast to his previous calmness, Maurus' violent temper broke -out once or twice during the course of the discussion, and it needed all -Jasper's tact and Rosemary's soothing influence to steer clear of all -that tended to aggravate him. It was the real man peeping through the -armour of all the previous unnatural self-control, the gipsy blood -reasserting itself—self-willed, obstinate, impatient of control, -bitter against humiliation. Rosemary almost welcomed the change when it -came. It was more like the Maurus she knew—a man eccentric and -violent, walking close to, but not overstepping the borderland that -separates the sane from the insane. It was only when Philip, or Elza, or -Kis-Imre were mentioned that he seemed to step over that borderland, -encased in an armour of impish indifference. -</p> - -<p> -The soldier-chauffeur brought the car round at eleven o'clock. Rosemary -took affectionate leave of Maurus. -</p> - -<p> -"We meet very soon," she said. "In Hungary." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," he replied. "In Hungary. I shall be so thankful to be there." -</p> - -<p> -He also shook hands very cordially with Jasper. -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid this has not been a very agreeable stay for you," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"Better luck next time," Jasper responded, as he settled himself down in -the car beside his wife. -</p> - -<p> -The car swung out of the gates. Rosemary, looking back, had a last -vision of Maurus, standing under the electric lamp in the porch, his -hand waving a last farewell. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary must have fallen asleep in the corner of the carriage, for she -woke with a start. The train had come to a halt, as it had done at two -or three stations since Cluj was left behind. So it was not the sudden -jerk or the sound of the exhaust from the engine, that had caused -Rosemary suddenly to sit up straight, wide-awake and with that vague -feeling of apprehension which comes on waking when sleep has been -unconsciousness rather than rest. Jasper sat in the other corner with -eyes closed, but Rosemary did not think that he was asleep. They had a -sleeping compartment, but hadn't had the beds made up; it was perhaps -less restful for the night journey, but distinctly cleaner. The carriage -was in semi-darkness, only a feeble ray of blue light filtered through -the shade that tempered the gas-light up above. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary pulled up the blind. They were at a small station dimly lighted -by one oil-lamp above the exit door. A clump of acacia trees in full -leaf effectually hid the name of the station from view. A couple of -soldiers stood at the door through which a number of peasants, men with -bundles and women with baskets, one or two Jews in long gabardines and -a prosperous looking farmer in town clothes and top-boots were filing -out. Some one blew a tin-trumpet, a couple more soldiers stalked up the -line in the direction of the engine. There was a good deal of shouting. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary drew the blind down again, and tried to settle herself -comfortably in her corner once more. But sleep would not come. She -looked at her watch. It was past two. This seemed an unconscionably long -halt, even for a train in this part of the world. Rosemary peeped again -behind the blind. The station appeared quite deserted now except for the -two soldiers on guard at the door. Everything seemed very still—of -that peculiar stillness which always seems so deep when a train comes to a -halt during the night away from a busy station, and all the more deep by -contrast with the previous ceaseless rumbling of the wheels. From the -direction of the engine there came the sound of two men talking. -Otherwise nothing. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary reckoned that they should be over the frontier soon, but, of -course, if they were going to have these interminable halts—— -</p> - -<p> -Half an hour went by. Even the distant hum of conversation had ceased, -and the silence was absolute. Feeling unaccountably agitated rather than -nervous, Rosemary called to Jasper. At once he opened his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, my dear?" he asked vaguely. "Where are we?" And he added, -with a shake of his long, lean body: "These carriages are deuced -uncomfortable." -</p> - -<p> -"We are at a small station, Jasper," Rosemary said. "And we've been here -over half an hour. Have you been asleep?" -</p> - -<p> -"I remember this confounded train pulling up. I must have dropped off to -sleep after that. I wonder where we are." -</p> - -<p> -"We can't be very far from the frontier. I thought at first they would -turn us out for the customs, or passports or something. But nothing has -happened, and we don't seem to be getting on. I do hope there has not -been a breakdown on the line." -</p> - -<p> -"My dear!" Jasper exclaimed, rather impatiently, "why in the world -should you think that there is a breakdown on the line? There's a signal -against us, I suppose. That's all." -</p> - -<p> -But Rosemary was not satisfied. "Do you mind," she said, "seeing if you -can get hold of anybody. I can't help feeling nervous and——" -</p> - -<p> -At once Jasper was on his feet, courteous, attentive as always. "Of -course I'll go and see, my darling," he said. "But it's not like you to -be nervous." -</p> - -<p> -He drew back the shade so as to get a little light into the carriage, -straightened his clothes, then went out into the corridor. Everything -was so still that Rosemary could hear his footsteps treading the -well-worn strip of carpet, then the opening of the carriage door, which -sent a welcome draught of air through the stuffy compartment. Rosemary -pulled up the blind, and leaned out of the window. It was pitch-dark, -though the sky was starry. The small oil-lamp still flickered over the -exit door, and the two soldiers were still there. Rosemary saw Jasper's -vague silhouette in the gloom. He stood for a moment looking up and down -the line; then he walked away in the direction of the engine. A few -minutes went by, and presently Rosemary saw Jasper coming back, -accompanied by the guard. -</p> - -<p> -"What is it, Jasper?" she called. "Where are we, and what has happened?" -</p> - -<p> -The two men had come to a halt immediately beneath her window. The guard -doffed his cap at sight of her, and scratched his head in obvious -perplexity. -</p> - -<p> -"We are at Sót, my darling, but I have bad news for you, I am afraid," -Jasper said. "There has been a very serious landslide lower down the -line. I suppose it is due to the heavy storms. Anyway, the line is -blocked for a distance of nearly half a kilomètre, and of course there -will be considerable delay. I don't understand all the man says, but it -seems to have been a terrible catastrophe." -</p> - -<p> -But out of all this only two words had penetrated Rosemary's -brain—"considerable delay." What did that mean? She asked the guard, -but he only shook his head. He didn't know. He didn't know anything -except that there had been a landslide, and that no train could get -through till the line was clear. He supposed that a gang would come down -in the morning, but he couldn't say. Rosemary wanted to know whether -there would be any other way of continuing the journey, and picking up a -train the other side of the frontier. The guard again shook his head. He -really couldn't say; he was a stranger to these parts, but perhaps in -the morning——He suggested respectfully that the gracious lady -should allow him to make up a couple of beds in two of the sleeping -compartments. There was no one else on the train, so——- -</p> - -<p> -"No one else on the train?" Rosemary broke in curtly. "What does he -mean, Jasper? There must be other passengers on the train. Where have -they gone to?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper put the question to the guard. -</p> - -<p> -"The last of the passengers got out at this station, gracious lady. When -it was known that the line was blocked this side of the frontier, no one -took a ticket further than Sót." -</p> - -<p> -"How do you mean? When was it known that the line was blocked?" -</p> - -<p> -"Before we left Cluj, gracious lady, and so——" -</p> - -<p> -"But they sold us tickets to Budapest, and said nothing about a -breakdown," Rosemary exclaimed. And then she turned to her husband: -"Jasper, tell me, is this man a fool or a liar, or am I half-witted? You -took our tickets to Budapest. Did the man at the ticket-office say -anything to you about a block on the line?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," Jasper replied, "he did not." -</p> - -<p> -"But our luggage?" -</p> - -<p> -"We have no registered luggage—only what we have with us in the -carriage." -</p> - -<p> -"Of course, how stupid of me! But when the man clipped your ticket?" -</p> - -<p> -"He didn't say anything." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary, impatient, her nerves on edge, turned again to the guard. "You -saw the gracious gentleman's tickets," she said, "when we got into the -train. Why didn't you warn us?" -</p> - -<p> -"I thought perhaps the gracious lady and gentleman would only go as far -as Sot and sleep there. I thought everyone knew about the landslide, and -that every passenger had been warned." -</p> - -<p> -"Can we get a car here that will take us to Hódmezö?" -</p> - -<p> -"Not at this hour, gracious lady." -</p> - -<p> -"Or a vehicle of any sort?" -</p> - -<p> -The guard shook his head. Rosemary could have screamed with impatience -until Jasper's quiet voice broke in: "I think, my dear, that by far the -best thing to do will be to let the man make up a couple of beds for us, -and to try and possess ourselves in patience until the morning. There is -nothing to be done—really, darling, nothing. And, after all, it may -only mean a delay of eight to ten hours." -</p> - -<p> -Then, as Rosemary remained silent, making no further objection, he -slipped some money into the guard's hand, and told him to get the beds -ready. After that he re-entered the carriage, and rather diffidently sat -down beside his wife. -</p> - -<p> -"I feel terribly guilty, dear one," he said humbly, "but you know I -don't speak Roumanian very well, and when these sort of people jabber -away, I don't always understand what they say. And I was rather anxious -about you at Cluj. You seemed so agitated, so unlike yourself." -</p> - -<p> -"Can you wonder? Twenty-four hours' delay may mean that Naniescu's -courier will get to London and make arrangements before I have time to -wire. I must see Elza first, and in the meanwhile——" -</p> - -<p> -"My darling," Jasper put in, with a quick, wearied sigh, "it is not like -you to be so illogical. Do you really suppose that events move at such a -rate in a newspaper office? There is bound to be delay—and there's -ample time for your telegram to reach the <i>Times</i> before the editor -has even thought of inserting your articles. Even if we are held up here -for twenty-four hours, you can see Elza and send your wire from Hódmezö -before Peter Blakeney, or whoever Naniescu's courier happens to be, can -possibly have made any arrangements with the <i>Times.</i>" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course, dear, of course," Rosemary said, more calmly. "I am stupid -to-night. This whole business has got on my nerves, I suppose. I don't -seem to know what I am doing." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL</a></h4> - -<p> -On the narrow made-up bed, with the coarse linen and the heavy blanket, -and the smell of sulphur and dust about her, Rosemary found it quite -impossible to get any rest. At first there had been a good deal of -clumsy shunting, the engine probably had been detached, the tin-trumpet -sounded at intervals, and there was a good deal of shouting; but all -these noises ceased presently, and the night seemed peculiarly still. -Still, but not restful. Rosemary could not sleep. Fortunately the -communicating doors between her compartment and the one which Jasper -occupied were closed, so she felt free to fidget, to get up or to lie -down as the mood seized her, to turn on the light to read or to -meditate, without fear of disturbing him. -</p> - -<p> -She could not help feeling desperately nervous. Jasper, of course, was -quite right: there was plenty of time in which to see Elza, and then to -send a telegram to London if necessary, so there was nothing in a few -hours' delay to worry about. Nevertheless she, who had always prided -herself on independence and level-headedness, felt a strange kind of -foreboding—something vague and indefinite that nevertheless was -terrifying. She tried to compose herself and could not. She forced -herself into quietude, deliberately kept her eyes closed and her body -still. It was torture, but she did it because she wanted to feel that -she still controlled her nerves, and that she was not giving way to this -stupid sense of fear. -</p> - -<p> -And there was no denying it; the fear that beset her was on account of -her coming interview with Elza. Maurus' attitude had been very strange, -even abnormal, and it was consequent on a letter from Elza. And -Rosemary, though she had not owned it to herself before, felt a growing -conviction that Elza's lofty patriotism had given way at last to -mother-love. Confronted with Philip and Anna, who no doubt had youth's -passionate desire to live, with Anna's mother who was all for -conciliating the tyrants, and with Maurus whose reason was threatening -to give way, Elza had laid down her arms, had capitulated and decided -that her son's life must be saved at any cost. Perhaps she knew -that Rosemary's articles had fallen into Naniescu's hands, -perhaps she and Peter had actually been in collusion over the theft, -perhaps—perhaps——There was no end to conjecture, and no -limit to Rosemary's dread of what the next four-and-twenty hours would -bring. -</p> - -<p> -Only now did she realise what it had meant to her to place the final -decision into Elza's hands. With it she had given her professional -honour, her very conscience into another woman's keeping. She had -probably only done it because she was so sure of Elza, of Elza's -patriotism and her sense of justice and honour. Poor Elza! Who could -blame her for being weak, for being a mother rather than a patriot? She -should never have been placed before such a cruel alternative. -Self-reproach, the stirrings of conscience helped to aggravate -Rosemary's racking anxiety. She got up in the early dawn, made what -sketchy toilet the limited accommodation allowed, and went out into the -open. The little station appeared quite deserted; only the two soldiers -were still there on duty at the exit door. Rosemary marvelled if they -were the same two who had been there during the night. They looked -perfectly stolid, unwashed and slouchy in their faded, coarse-looking -uniforms and dusty boots and képis. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary looked up and down the line. The train, consisting of half a -dozen coaches, looked derelict without its engine, and there was no -guard in sight. She had no eyes for the beautiful scenery around—the -narrow valley bordered by densely wooded heights; the mountain-side -covered with oak and beech that were just beginning to clothe themselves -in gold at the approach of autumn; the turbulent little mountain-stream; -the small station nestling amidst gnarled acacia trees; and on the right -the quaint Transylvania village with the hemp-thatched roofs and bunches -of golden maize drying in the sun, with its primitive stuccoed church -and white-washed presbytery. Rosemary saw nothing of this; her eyes -searched the landscape for the château—now a prison for political -offenders—where Philip and Anna were detained—those children -whose safety would be paid for perhaps by countless miseries, by worse -tyranny and more cruel oppression. But there was no large building in -sight, and presently Rosemary caught sight of Jasper, some way up the line, -walking toward her in company with a man in very <i>négligé</i> toilet, who -probably was the station-master. -</p> - -<p> -At sight of Rosemary, Jasper hastened to meet her, while the man kept at -a respectful distance. -</p> - -<p> -"What news?" Rosemary cried eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper appeared dejected. "Not very good I am afraid," he said. "The -station-master here tells me that he has been advised that the line will -take the whole of the day to clear—probably more." -</p> - -<p> -"Very well, then," Rosemary said resolutely, "we must get a car." -</p> - -<p> -"Impossible, my dear; you can't get across if the road is blocked." -</p> - -<p> -"All the roads in Transylvania are not blocked, I imagine," Rosemary -retorted drily. Then she called to the station-master: "I want," she -said, "to get to Hódmezö to-day. Can I get a car anywhere in Sót?" -</p> - -<p> -"But the roads are impassable, gracious lady," the man exclaimed; "the -landslide——" -</p> - -<p> -"Never mind about the landslide. There are other roads in Transylvania -besides this one. I can go by a roundabout way, but I can get there -somehow if I have a car. Or," she added impatiently, seeing that the man -was looking very dubious, "a conveyance of any sort, I don't care what -it is." -</p> - -<p> -"Alas! gracious lady, that is just the trouble. The soldiers were here -yesterday, and they commandeered all the horses and bullocks in Sót for -military purposes. It is so hard," the man went on, muttering half to -himself; "no sooner does a man scrape together a little money and buy an -old horse, than the soldiers come down and take it away from him." -</p> - -<p> -The man was full of apologies and explanations, but somehow Rosemary had -the impression that he lied. He rambled on for a while in the same -strain; Rosemary did not hear him. Her brain was at work trying to find -a way to combat this net of intrigue that was hemming her in. She was -quite sure that the man was lying—that Naniescu had ordered these -ignorant yokels to tell the lies that suited him. She, Rosemary, Lady -Tarkington, a British subject, could not be held up at the frontier, of -course, but there could be a landslide, a block on the line, no -conveyance available, horses commandeered by the military, two, three, -perhaps four days' delay while Naniescu's courier was speeding to London -with Rosemary's manuscript and her letter to the editor of the <i>Times</i> -asking for early publication. -</p> - -<p> -She turned with some impatience to Jasper. -</p> - -<p> -"What shall I do?" -</p> - -<p> -Gravely he shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -"Accept the inevitable," he replied gently. "I understand that there is -quite a clean little hotel in the place, and twenty-four hours' delay is -not very serious, is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"It would not be," she admitted, "if it were not prolonged." -</p> - -<p> -"It can't be prolonged indefinitely." -</p> - -<p> -"No," she retorted, "for I can always walk to the frontier." -</p> - -<p> -"Over mountain passes?" he queried, with a smile. -</p> - -<p> -But she only gave a scornful shrug. "Accept the inevitable?" How little -he knew her. The more she saw difficulties ahead, the more she felt -ready for a fight. Time was still in her favour. Hódmezö was not far -with its telegraph service, and Naniescu's power did not extend beyond -the frontier. -</p> - -<p> -Always supposing that Elza did wish her to wire. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary thought things over for a moment or two; then she said to -Jasper: "Very well! I'll possess myself in patience for twenty-four -hours. Will you see about rooms at the hotel? And I suppose this man -will see about our luggage being taken across?" -</p> - -<p> -"Of course I'll see to everything, dear," Jasper said meekly. "But you -would like some breakfast, wouldn't you?" -</p> - -<p> -"No," Rosemary replied; "I am going for a walk. I should be such poor -company at breakfast." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI</a></h4> - -<p> -Meekly and obediently Jasper went off to see after the luggage, and -Rosemary wandered away as far as the village. Her first thought was to -ascertain definitely whether indeed there was no chance of hiring some -sort of conveyance to take her as far as Hódmezö. The first man she -spoke to was the keeper of the inevitable grocery store. He had heard a -rumour that there was a block on the railway line somewhere near the -frontier, and this annoyed him very much because he was expecting a -consignment of maize from Hungary, and he supposed that he would not now -get it for two or three days. He had no horse. Hadn't had one since the -beginning of the war, when his nag was commandeered. Now even an old -crock was so dear it did not pay to buy. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary asked him if he knew of anyone in the village from whom she -could hire a horse and cart to take her as far as the frontier, but the -man shook his head. The Jew at the hotel had two horses, and the priest -had one, but the military were down from the barracks yesterday and took -those away. There were manœuvres in progress somewhere, it seems. The -soldiers said they would bring the horses back in two or three days, but -it was very hard and inconvenient for everybody when that sort of thing -was done. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary asked, what about oxen? But draft-oxen and some buffaloes -belonging to the mayor had also been commandeered. It was very hard. Did -not the gracious lady think so? -</p> - -<p> -Finally the storekeeper made a suggestion that with the help of a little -baksheesh the gracious lady might succeed in getting the officer at the -château to let her have what she wanted. The château was only a couple -of kilomètres from the village. It lay close to the road; the gracious -lady couldn't fail to spy the great iron gates. It had belonged at one -time to Count Fekete, but the family had been gone some time, and the -château was now a cavalry barrack, and some prisoners of war were still -kept there. -</p> - -<p> -The storekeeper offered his son as an escort to the gracious lady, so -that she should not miss her way. But Rosemary declined the offer; she -purchased a few stale biscuits from the man, intending to ask for a -glass of milk from some cottage on the way; then she set out at a brisk -pace down the road. It ran along the mountain-side, and some fifty feet -below the turbulent little stream tossed and tumbled over stones and -boulders, its incessant murmuring making a soothing accompaniment to -Rosemary's thoughts. At the last cottage in the village, where Rosemary -had obtained a glass of fresh milk from a comely peasant woman, the -latter had directed her to a mountain path which ran below the road, -parallel with it, and close to the edge of the stream. Here it was -perfectly lovely; the moist, sweet air, the occasional call of birds, -the beech and oak and dense undergrowth, the carpet of moss, the -occasional clearing where the grass was of a luscious green, and the -mauve campanula grew to a stately height. At times the path rose -sharply, twenty feet or more above the stream; at others it ran level -with the water's edge; and at one place the stream widened into a little -bay, where the water was as clear as a fairy pool and of a translucent -blue. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary lingered for a little while beside the pool, thinking how -delicious it would be to bathe in it. When she went on again she came to -a sharp bend in the path, and as soon as she had rounded this she saw -some twenty yards farther on a man dressed in the uniform of a Roumanian -officer, sitting upon a tree stump close by the water's edge. The man -sat with his elbows resting on his knees, and his head was buried in his -hands. He looked like a man in trouble. Rosemary walked on, a dry twig -crackled under her tread, and the man suddenly looked up. -</p> - -<p> -It was Peter. -</p> - -<p> -The moment he caught sight of Rosemary he jumped up, and then made a -movement as if he meant to run away. But Rosemary, with sudden impulse, -called to him at once. -</p> - -<p> -"Don't go, Peter." -</p> - -<p> -It seemed as if the magic of her voice rooted him to the spot. He stood -quite still, but with his back to her; and then he took off his képi -with one hand, and passed the other once or twice across his forehead. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt strangely disturbed and puzzled. Why was Peter here? How -did he come to be here? And in this uniform? -</p> - -<p> -"Aren't you going to speak to me, Peter?" she asked, because Peter being -here seemed so amazing that for the moment she thought that she was -seeing a vision; "or even look at me?" she added. -</p> - -<p> -"I did not suppose you particularly wished me to speak to you," he said, -without turning round to face her. -</p> - -<p> -"Why should you say that?" she asked simply. -</p> - -<p> -"Because I imagine that you look upon me as such an unmitigated -blackguard that the very sight of me must be hateful to you." -</p> - -<p> -She said nothing for a moment or two. Perhaps she was still wondering if -he was real, and if so, how he came to be here—just to-day and at -this hour. Then she went deliberately up to him, put her hand on his arm, -and forced him to look at her. -</p> - -<p> -"It is true, then?" she asked, and her eyes, those pixie eyes of hers, -luminous and searching, were fastened on his as if seeking to penetrate -to the very soul within him. But a look of dull and dogged obstinacy was -all that she got in response. -</p> - -<p> -"It is all true, Peter?" she insisted, trying with all her might to -steady her voice, so that he should not hear the catch in her throat. -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders, indifferent and still obstinate. -</p> - -<p> -"I don't know what you mean," he retorted, almost roughly. -</p> - -<p> -"I mean," she said slowly, "that these last few days have not just been -a hideous nightmare, as I still hoped until—until two -minutes ago. That things have really happened—that you—that -you——" -</p> - -<p> -She paused, physically unable to continue. It was all too vile, too -hideous to put into words. Peter gave a harsh laugh. -</p> - -<p> -"Oh, don't spare me," he said, with a flippant laugh. "You mean that you -did not believe until two minutes ago that I was really a spy in the pay -of the Roumanian government, and that you did not believe that I had -intrigued to have Philip and Anna arrested, stolen your articles for the -<i>Times</i>, and bought Kis-Imre over Aunt Elza's head, and turned her and -Maurus out of their home. Well, you believe it now, don't you? So that's -that. And as I am on my way to meet a friend, you'll excuse me, won't -you, if I run away? Is there anything else I can do for you?" -</p> - -<p> -"Yes," she said. "You can look me straight in the eyes and tell me what -has brought you down to—to this. Is it money?" -</p> - -<p> -Peter shrugged. "The want of it, I suppose," he replied. -</p> - -<p> -"I have no right to ask, I know. Only—only—we were friends -once, Peter," she went on, with a note of pleading in her tone. "You -used to tell me all your plans—your ambitions. You used to say -that you did not want to—to bind me to a promise until you had -made a name for yourself. If you had told me that you were short of -money, and that you were actually thinking of taking up this—this -sort of work, I could have helped you. I know I could have helped you. I -know I should have found the right words to dissuade you. Oh, Peter!" -she went on almost wildly, unable to hold her tears longer in check, or -to control the tremor in her voice, "it is all so horrible! Can't you -see? Can't you see? We were such friends! You used to tell me -everything. You were taking up your father's work. Some of your -scientific experiments were already attracting attention. And you were a -sportsman, too! And your V.C. And now this—this. Oh, it is too -horrible—too horrible!" -</p> - -<p> -Her words were carrying her away. The murmur of the water grew louder -and louder in her ears, and in the trees the soughing of the wind among -the leaves grew almost deafening. She felt herself swaying, and for a -few seconds she closed her eyes. But when she put out her hand she felt -it resting on Peter's arm. There was the feel of the rough cloth of his -tunic. So she opened her eyes and raised them slowly until they met his. -Her glance had wandered on the ugly uniform, the livery of this -unspeakable shame. Her eyes expressed the contempt which she felt, the -loathing which was almost physical. But Peter's glance now was not only -dogged, but defiant. In it she read the determination to follow the path -of life which he had chosen for himself, and a challenge to her power to -drag him away from it. This was no longer the Peter of Kis-Imre, the -irresponsible young English athlete, whose thoughts would never soar -above the interest in a cricket-match. It was more the Peter of olden -times—the tempestuous lover, the wayward creature of caprice, the -temperamental enthusiast capable of heroic deeds, and always chafing -under the restraint imposed by twentieth century conventions; the Peter -whose soul had once been equally great in virtue as it was now steeped -in crime, the gallant soldier, the worthy descendant of the Scarlet -Pimpernel. It was the Peter of olden times, but his love for her was -dead. Dead. If one spark of it had remained alive, if something of her -image had remained in his heart, he could never have given himself over -to this vile, vile thing. But while she had been battling bravely to -banish from her mind all memories of their early love, he had torn her -out of his heart, and turned to this ignominious calling to help him to -forget. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary felt giddy and ill; even the sweet woodland air seemed to have -turned to poisonous fumes of intrigue and venality. She pushed Peter's -arm that supported her roughly away, but she was still swaying; her hat -fell from her head, and her glorious hair lay in a tumbled mass of ruddy -gold around her face. -</p> - -<p> -"Better sit down on this old stump," Peter remarked drily. "You'll have -to lean on me till you get to it." -</p> - -<p> -But Rosemary did not really know what happened just then. She had such a -gnawing pain in her heart. She certainly tottered forward a step or two -until she reached the tree-stump, and she sank down on it, helped -thereto no doubt by Peter's arm. The next thing of which she was -conscious was a flood of tears that would not be checked. It welled up -to her eyes, and eased that heavy pain in her heart. Great sobs shook -her bowed shoulders, and she buried her face in her hands, for she was -ashamed of her tears. Ashamed that she cared so much. -</p> - -<p> -And the next thing that struck her consciousness was that Peter sunk -down on his knees before her, that he raised her skirt to his lips, and -that he murmured: "Good-bye, sweetheart. My Rosemary for remembrance. -God bless and keep you. Try and forget." Then he jumped to his feet and -was gone. Gone! She called him back with a cry of despair. "Peter!" But -he was nowhere to be seen. He must have scrambled up the incline that -led to the road. She certainly heard high above her the crackling of dry -twigs, but nothing more. Peter had passed out of her life, more -completely, more effectually, indeed, than on the day when she became -Jasper Tarkington's wife. Peter—her Peter, the friend of her -girlhood, the master from whom she had learned her first lesson of love, -was dead. The thing that remained was a vague speck, a creation of this -venal post-war world. It was as well that he should go out of her life. -</p> - -<p> -"Try to forget!" were the last words she would ever hear him speak. -</p> - -<p> -"Try to forget?" If she only could! -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII</a></h4> - -<p> -A minute or two later Rosemary was startled out of her day-dream by the -sound of Jasper's voice calling to her from somewhere in the near -distance. She had barely time to obliterate the traces of tears from her -eyes and cheeks before he appeared round the bend of the path. The next -moment he was by her side. Apparently he had been running, for he seemed -breathless and not quite so trim and neat in his appearance as he -usually was. -</p> - -<p> -"I heard a scream," were the first words he said, as soon as he came in -sight of her. "It terrified me when I recognised your voice. Thank God -you are safe!" -</p> - -<p> -He was obviously exhausted and, for him, strangely agitated. He threw -himself down on the carpet of moss at her feet; then he seized her hand -and covered it with kisses. "Thank God!" he kept on murmuring. "Thank -God you are safe!" -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly he looked up at her with an inquiring frown. "But what -made you scream?" he asked. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary by now had regained control over her nerves. She succeeded in -disengaging her hand, and in smiling quite coolly down upon him. -</p> - -<p> -"It was very stupid of me," she said, with a light laugh. "I saw a pair -of eyes looking at me through the undergrowth. It startled me. I thought -that it was a wild cat—I had heard that there were some in these -parts—but it was only a homely one." -</p> - -<p> -She tried to rise, but Jasper had recaptured her hand. He was engaged, -in kissing her finger-tips one by one, lingering over each kiss as if to -savour its sweetness in full. Now he looked up at her with a glance of -hungering passion. Rosemary felt herself flushing. She was conscious of -an intense feeling of pity for this man who had lavished on her all the -love of which he was capable, and hungered for that which she was not -able to give. He looked care-worn, she thought, and weary. -</p> - -<p> -"You were not anxious about me, Jasper, were you?" she asked kindly. -</p> - -<p> -He smiled. "I am always anxious," he said, "when I don't see you." -</p> - -<p> -"But how did you find me?" -</p> - -<p> -"Quite easily; I went to the hotel, you know. Not at all a bad little -place, by the way; rather primitive, but with electric light and plenty -of hot water. I engaged the rooms, and had a mouthful of breakfast. Then -I sallied forth in quest of you. A man in the village told me you had -been asking the way to the château, and I knew you would never stand -the dusty road. So when I found that there was a woodland path that went -through the same way as the road, I naturally concluded that you would -choose it in preference. You see," Jasper concluded, with a smile, "that -there was no magic in my quest." -</p> - -<p> -Then he looked up at her again, and there was a gleam of suspicion in -his dark, questioning eyes. "You must have walked very slowly," he said. -"I started quite half an hour, probably more, after you did." -</p> - -<p> -"I did walk very slowly. This path is enchanting, and this is not the -first time I have sat down to think and to gaze at this delicious little -stream. But," Rosemary went on briskly, "I think I had better be getting -on." -</p> - -<p> -But Jasper put out his arms and encircled her knees. "Don't go for a -minute, little one. It is so peaceful here, and somehow I have had so -little of you these last days. I don't know, but it seems as if we had -taken to misunderstanding one another lately." Then, as she made an -involuntary movement of impatience, he continued gently: "Do I annoy you -by making love to you?" -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary tried to smile. "Of course not, dear. What a question!" -</p> - -<p> -"Then tell me if there is anything in the world I can do to make you -happier. You have not looked happy lately. I have been tortured with -remorse, for I feel somehow that it has been my fault." -</p> - -<p> -"You are sweet and kind, Jasper, as always. But you must be a little -patient. I have gone through a great deal these last few days." -</p> - -<p> -"I know, I know, little one. Don't let us talk any more about it." -</p> - -<p> -He was wonderfully kind—kinder and gentler than he had been since the -first days of their married life. It almost seemed as if he had set -himself the task of making her forget all that he had involuntarily -revealed to her of his violent, unbridled temperament, and of that -lawless passion that lay at the root of his love for her. -</p> - -<p> -He talked of the future, of their return to England, the home that he' -would make for her, which would be a fitting casket for the priceless -jewel which he possessed. Rosemary, who felt inexpressibly lonely, was -once more conscious of that feeling of gratitude towards him which she -had once hoped might be transmuted in days to come into something more -ardent than friendship. She had suffered so terribly in her love for the -one man who, with all his faults, had come very near to her ideals that -she felt a desperate longing to cherish and to cling to the husband whom -she had chosen half out of pique, the man on whom she had inflicted so -much cruelty by becoming his wife. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Rosemary was the first to remember that time was slipping by. She looked -at her watch. It was past ten o'clock—over an hour since Peter had -asked her to try and forget. She rose briskly to her feet, and arm in -arm, like two good comrades, she and Jasper made their way together -towards the château. When they came in sight of the great gates—a -couple of hundred yards still ahead of them—Rosemary was the first to -spy a motor-car standing there, and some half-dozen persons in the act -of getting into the car. There were two sentries at the gates, and -seemingly a few people on the other side. -</p> - -<p> -"It looks like a man and a woman and three soldiers in uniform getting -into that car," Rosemary remarked casually. And immediately, for no -apparent reason, Jasper started to walk along more rapidly; a few -seconds later he almost broke into a run. At that moment the car started -off, and was soon lost to sight in a cloud of dust. Rosemary thought -that she heard Jasper utter a savage oath. -</p> - -<p> -"Is anything wrong?" she asked. But he did not answer, only hurried -along so quickly that she was not able to keep up with him. He had -passed through the gates when she reached them, and when she tried to -follow she was stopped by the sentry. She called to Jasper, who -apparently did not hear; pointing to him, she explained to the man on -duty that she was that gentleman's wife, and if he was allowed to go in, -why not she? They were as mate as if she had spoken in an unknown -tongue, but they would not allow her to pass. In the meanwhile Jasper -had disappeared inside the château. Rosemary had seen him go in by the -main entrance, challenged by the sentry on guard at the door, but after -a second or two allowed to pass freely in. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately she was provided with money, and her experience of this part -of the world was that most things could be accomplished with the aid of -baksheesh. A young officer was crossing the courtyard; he looked in the -direction of the gates, saw an excessively pretty woman standing there, -and, true to his race and upbringing, came at once to see if he could -enter into conversation with her. Very politely he explained to her that -no one was allowed to enter the château, or to visit any of the -prisoners, without a special permit from the commanding officer. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary told him that she desired to speak with the commanding officer. -This also, it seems, was impossible. But a hint from Rosemary as to a -reward if the matter could be managed simplified matters a great deal. -</p> - -<p> -The young officer conducted her across the courtyard and into the -château. It had been a fine place once, not unlike Kis-Imre in -architecture, but its occupation by the military had stripped it of -every charm. There were no carpets on the floors, and only very rough -furniture in the way of chairs and tables in what had obviously been at -one time a cosy lounge hall. The officer led the way through a couple of -equally bare rooms <i>en enfilade</i>, and came to a halt outside a door -which bore roughly chalked upon the finely carved and decorated panels -the legend: "Major Buriecha. Private. No admittance." He offered one of -the rough chairs rather shamefacedly to Rosemary, and said: "Major -Buriecha will be coming through here presently. Will you wait, gracious -lady? You will be sure to see him. I am afraid," the young man added, -with a pleasant smile, "that it is the best I can do." -</p> - -<p> -"Couldn't you announce me?" Rosemary asked. "I am Lady Tarkington. I am -sure Major Buriecha would not refuse to see me." -</p> - -<p> -The officer's smile became self-deprecating. "It is more than I should -dare to do, milady," he said. "The major is engaged in conversation with -an important government official. I would even ask you kindly, when you -see him, not to tell him that I brought you as far as here." -</p> - -<p> -"I couldn't do that, even if I wished, as I don't know your name." -</p> - -<p> -"Lieutenant Uriesu, at your service, milady." -</p> - -<p> -"I suppose," Rosemary went on, after a moment's hesitation, "you -couldn't tell me what has become of my husband, Lord Tarkington. He went -through the gates and entered the château, then I lost sight of him. -But he seemed to be well known inside this place. Could you find out for -me where he is?" -</p> - -<p> -"I am afraid not, milady," the young officer replied politely. "I have -not the honour of Lord Tarkington's acquaintance." -</p> - -<p> -He stood at attention, waiting for a moment or two to see if the English -lady had any further questions she wished to ask; then, as she remained -silent, he saluted gravely and went out of the room, leaving Rosemary to -bear her soul in patience, and to wonder what in the world had become of -Jasper. -</p> - -<p> -At first only a confused murmur of voices came to her ears through the -closed doors of Major Buriecha's private room. But gradually one of -those voices grew louder and louder, as if raised in anger; and -Rosemary, astonished, recognised that it was Jasper speaking—in -French, and obviously with authority—to Major Buriecha, the officer -commanding! . . . What in the world——? -</p> - -<p> -She heard some words quite distinctly: -</p> - -<p> -"You are a fool, Buriecha! No one but a fool could have been taken in -like this." -</p> - -<p> -And the voice that gave reply was humble, apologetic, decidedly -tremulous with fear. Rosemary could not distinguish what it said. -</p> - -<p> -Major Buriecha engaged in conversation with Jasper! And Jasper -reprimanding him with obvious authority! What could it mean? At first -she had only been puzzled, now a vague sense of uneasiness stirred in -her heart. Uneasiness that almost partook of fear. With sudden impulse -she rose and went to the door. Orders or no orders, she must know what -was going on inside that room. Her hand was on the latch when she -paused, listening. Was it mean to listen? Perhaps; but instinct was -stronger than good conduct, and she had just heard Jasper's harsh voice -giving a curt command: -</p> - -<p> -"Get through to General Naniescu at once," and then the click of the -telephone receiver being lifted from its hook and the whir of the -bell-handle. What could she do but listen? There was silence inside the -private room now, but Rosemary could hear Jasper's easily recognizable -step pacing restlessly up and down. At one moment he paused quite close -to the door, and Rosemary quickly drew back a step or two, ready to face -him if he came. But he resumed his pacing and she her watch by the door. -Presently she heard the other voice—the major's, -presumably—saying: "Is that you, Marghilo? Ask His Excellency the -Governor to come to the telephone, will you?" There was a pause, then -Buriecha spoke again. "Tell him it is Major Buriecha. And, I say, -Marghilo, tell him it is very important and desperately urgent." -</p> - -<p> -Again there was a pause, a long one this time. Jasper was still pacing -up and down the room. Rosemary could picture him to herself, with his -habitual stoop and his thin hands held behind his back. Once he laughed, -his usual harsh, mirthless laugh. "You'll get a fine dressing-down for -this, my friend, I am thinking," he said. "Naniescu won't make light of -it, I can tell you." -</p> - -<p> -Silence once again. Then Jasper's voice speaking into the telephone, and -always in French: "Hallo! Hallo! Is that you, Naniescu? Good! Number Ten -speaking." -</p> - -<p> -Number Ten! What——? But there was no time to think, no time for -puzzlement or fear. Jasper was speaking again. -</p> - -<p> -"Buriecha has made a complete fool of himself. He has allowed young -Imrey and the girl Heves to escape! Hallo! Did you hear me? It's no use -swearing like that, you'll only break the telephone. Yes, they've gone, -and you've got to get them back. Went by car half an hour ago, in the -direction of Cluj, but probably making for the frontier—what? Oh, a -plot, of course, engineered by that damned Blakeney. No use cursing -Buriecha; you are as much to blame as he is. Eh? Of course, for treating -with that young devil behind my back! Yes, you——Well, hold on -and listen. Blakeney, I am sure it was he, came here with a forged order -from you, demanding that Imrey and the girl shall be delivered to him -for transference to an unknown destination. Eh? Well, of course he -should have known, but he says your signature looked perfect; he thought -it was all in order. The rascal was in officer's uniform, and had two -men with him also in uniform. What can you do? Telephone all along the -roads to your frontier police, of course. If they stick to the car they -are bound to be stopped. Yes, five persons. Three of the men in uniform -in an open car. The prisoners have probably taken on some disguise by -now. Shoot at sight, of course, if the car does not slow down. Police -the mountain paths as well. Blakeney can't know them well. I don't know -who the other two men are. Hungarian, perhaps, or English. Don't delay. -Yes, yes! What's that? Marghilo getting through? Good! Well, that's the -best you can do. We'll have a reckoning presently, my friend. You should -not have treated with him, I say. He has probably robbed your courier of -the newspaper articles or else telegraphed in Uno's name to the -<i>Times</i> not to print them, and then got the prisoners out of your -clutches by this impudent trick. Oh, all right. Hurry up! You have no time -to waste, nor have I. Yes! All right. Come along if you want to. I shall be -at Sót all right enough. But you won't enjoy the interview, my friend, I -promise you that. What?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had ceased speaking for some time, but Rosemary still stood beside -the door—a woman turned to stone. Her hands and feet were numb. -She could not move; only from time to time a cold shudder travelled all -down her spine. She felt nothing, not even horror. It was all too -stupendous even for horror. A cataclysm, a ball of fire, a flame that -froze, ice that scorched. A topsy-turvydom that meant the kingdom of -death. -</p> - -<p> -And Jasper, her husband, was the other side of that door, Jasper -Tarkington, her husband! The spy of an alien government, Number Ten! A -thing! A rag torn and filthy. The man whose name she bore. She could -hear his footstep in the next room, his mirthless laugh, his harsh voice -muttering curses or else invectives against the other man, who was only -a fool. Then suddenly the footsteps came to a halt. The door was pulled -open and Rosemary stood face to face with Jasper. -</p> - -<p> -At sight of her he stood stock-still. An ashen hue spread over his face. -The curse that had risen to his throat died before it reached his lips. -</p> - -<p> -From the room behind him Major Buriecha's tremulous voice was asking if -anything was amiss. Jasper closed the door and stood with his back to -it, still facing Rosemary. His eyes, always hawk-like and closely set, -had narrowed till they were mere slits, and his lips had curled up over -his jaws, showing his teeth white and sharp, like those of a wolf. An -expression of intense cruelty distorted his face. He was about to speak, -but Rosemary put up her hand to stop him. -</p> - -<p> -"Not here," she commanded. "Not now." -</p> - -<p> -He gave a hard laugh and shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"It had to come some time, I suppose," he said coolly. "I am not sorry." -</p> - -<p> -"Nor I," she replied. "But will you please go now? We'll meet -later—in the hotel." -</p> - -<p> -He looked her up and down with that glance which she had learned to -dread, and for a moment it seemed as if he would yield to that -ungovernable passion in him and seize her in his arms. Rosemary did not -move. Her luminous eyes, abnormally dilated, never left his face for one -instant. She watched the struggle in the man's tortuous soul, the -passion turned to hatred now that he stood revealed. She did not flinch, -because she was not afraid. The man was too vile to inspire fear. -</p> - -<p> -"Go!" she said coldly. -</p> - -<p> -For another second he hesitated, but it was the banal sound of Buriecha -spluttering and coughing the other side of the door that clinched his -resolve. This was neither the place nor the time to assert his will, to -punish her for the humiliation which he was enduring. Once more he -laughed and shrugged his shoulders, then he walked slowly out of the -room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV</a></h4> - -<p> -For over half an hour Rosemary waited in that bare, cheerless room, and -gazed unseeing out of the window while she tried vainly to co-ordinate -her thoughts. In the forefront of her mind there was a feeling of great -joy which she hardly dared to analyze. Joy! And she also had the -feeling, though she had come to the very brink of an awful precipice, -though she was looking down into an abyss of shame and horror, with no -hope of ever being able to bridge the chasm over, that yet on the other -side was peace—peace that she would never attain, but which was there -nevertheless, to dwell on, to dream of, when the turmoil was past and -she be allowed to rest. -</p> - -<p> -After about half an hour the young officer who had first conducted her -to the fateful spot came back to see what had happened. He seemed -astonished that she was still there. -</p> - -<p> -"Major Buriecha has not yet come out of his room," Rosemary managed to -say quite coolly. "It is getting near dinner-time. I don't think I'll -wait any longer." -</p> - -<p> -The young man appeared relieved. Anyway he was not likely now to get -into trouble on the English lady's account. He clicked his heels -together, expressed perfunctory regret at her disappointment, then -offered to conduct milady out of the château. Rosemary accepted his -escort and took leave of him at the gates. -</p> - -<p> -"If milady will write to the commanding officer," Lieutenant Uriesu said -at the end, "I am sure he will give the permit milady requires." -</p> - -<p> -"I will certainly take your advice," Rosemary assented cheerfully. -"Good-bye, Lieutenant Uriesu, and thank you for your kind efforts on my -behalf." -</p> - -<p> -She walked back towards the village by way of the path. When she came to -the spot where first she had seen Peter that morning she sat down on the -tree-stump and listened to the murmur of the stream. She would not allow -herself to think of Peter—only of Philip and Anna, whom he was -taking across the frontier by another clever trick—in disguise, -probably—and over the mountain passes. Rosemary could not believe -that they would stick to the car and be stopped by the frontier police. -They would get away into Hungary—on foot. They were young, they -knew the country, and they could scramble over the mountain passes and -be at Hódmezö soon, where Elza would be waiting for them. Elza knew, -of course, and Maurus knew too. That was why he had been so calm and so -composed when he was told that he must leave Kis-Imre within -four-and-twenty hours. They all knew. Peter had trusted them. Only she, -Rosemary, had been kept out of his councils, because she might have -betrayed them to Jasper, and Peter could not tell her that it was Jasper -who was the miserable spy. -</p> - -<p> -But no, she would not think of Peter, or of how he had worked to -circumvent Jasper at every turn. She only waited to think of Philip and -Anna, those two children who were so ingenuously learning the lesson of -love one from the other, and of Elza, so patient and so heroic, and of -Maurus, who had played his part so well. Maurus would be coming through -from Cluj some time to-day, and he, too, would be held up at Sót, and -perhaps spend the night in the funny little hotel. Rosemary hoped that -she would see him. His company would be very welcome whilst Jasper was -still there. Then to-morrow she and Maurus would get across the frontier -somehow, and join up with Elza and the children at Hódmezö. And there -was always the British Consul in Cluj to appeal to. There was no -desperate hurry now. The children were safe and those articles of hers -would not be published in the <i>Times.</i> Peter would have seen to that. -</p> - -<p> -But no, she did not want to think of Peter. Was she not still Jasper -Tarkington's wife? -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV</a></h4> - -<p> -It was late in the afternoon when Rosemary at last made her way back to -the small hotel in Sót. She had spent the day roaming about the -forests, and eating such scrappy food as she could purchase at one or -other of the cottages. Twice she had been to the railway station to meet -the trains that were due in from Cluj. She hoped that Maurus might have -come by one of them. Now there was not another due before the midnight -express, which got to Sot in the small hours of the morning. The farce -of there being a block on the line was still kept up. Passengers got out -of the train, grumbling, and the small hotel was full to capacity. It -was a low, irregular building, with a very large courtyard closed on -three sides, and a wide archway through which cars and carriages could -drive in, intersecting the fourth. One side of the house was given over -to stabling and cowsheds, another to kitchens and offices, the other two -held the guest-rooms and one or two public rooms. Some of the bedrooms -were level with the ground, and on the floor above a wooden gallery ran -right round the courtyard. The courtyard itself seemed to be the -principal meeting place for cows and chickens, and even pigs, which -roamed freely about the place and entered any door that happened to be -conveniently open. The best bedrooms gave on the balcony above. On -inquiry Rosemary was informed that the English milord had booked three -rooms that morning for himself and milady who would be coming during the -day. A buxom, bare-footed peasant girl then conducted milady up to these -rooms. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary went along heavy-footed. She was more tired than she would have -cared to admit. She had had very little food all day, and her nerves by -now were terribly on edge. It had been a day packed full of emotions and -there was more to come. There was the inevitable interview with Jasper. -Horrible as it would be, she had no intention of shirking it. She would -leave him, of course, with the hope never to set eyes on him again, but -certain matters would have to be arranged between them, and Rosemary's -moral courage would not allow her to have recourse to letter-writing or -to the help of lawyers. She knew what she wished to say to Jasper and -would have despised herself if she had shrunk from the ordeal. -</p> - -<p> -The hours went slowly by. Later, in the evening, she ordered some supper -to be brought up to her room. She found it difficult to swallow any -food, but she drank two cups of deliciously strong coffee, and munched -some of the excellent and very sustaining maize bread for which this -part of the country is famous. She had a book in her suit-case and -contrived to read for a while, but she could not concentrate on what she -was reading, and soon had to put the book away. Time hung very heavily. -She was terribly weary and yet she could not sleep. And she could not -understand what had become of Jasper. She had seen or heard nothing of -him since they parted in that ugly, bare room, the picture of which -would for ever remain graven in her mind as the place where she had -experienced the greatest horror in her life. No one in the hotel had -seen him. A vague sense of uneasiness began to stir within her. At the -same time she dismissed from her mind any fear for his safety. She was -quite sure that whatever he ultimately decided to do, he would not pass -out of her life without a final struggle for mastery. She did not dread -the interview. She knew it to be inevitable; but she longed passionately -for it to be over—to know the worst—to feel certain of that -measure of freedom for which she meant to fight. -</p> - -<p> -And because she longed for the interview to be over she would not go to -bed before Jasper returned. She sat in the narrow slip-room, grandiosely -described by the hotel proprietor as the salon, which divided Jasper's -room from hers. The one window, which was wide open, gave her a -beautiful view over the mountains, and the evening sky studded with -stars. Somewhere the other side of those mountaintops Philip and Anna were -speeding towards freedom—the freedom which Peter had won for them -by dint of courage, resource and wit. Instinctively memory recalled that -other weary waiting at Kis-Imre, when she and Elza had watched and -prayed together through the hours of the night. And torturing fears rose -out of the darkness lest this second attempt at flight should prove as -unsuccessful as the first. -</p> - -<p> -It was past midnight when Rosemary heard Jasper's familiar step along -the wooden balcony. He came straight to the door of the salon and -entered, apparently without the slightest hesitation. He closed the door -behind him, and throwing down his hat said coolly: "I saw the light -under the door, so I knew you had not gone to bed yet. I've been in some -time, but stayed to have some supper in the coffee-room. Very good -supper, too. They know how to cook in Hungary. That is the one thing the -Roumanians might with advantage learn from them." -</p> - -<p> -He threw himself into a chair and drew his cigarette-case out of his -pocket. Having selected one he offered his case to Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -"Have one?" he asked. When she shook her head he shrugged and laughed, -then he struck a match and lighted his cigarette. His hand was perfectly -steady. The flame of the match brought for a moment into relief his -narrow hatchet face, with the dark eyes set closely together and the -harsh Wellingtonian features. Rosemary looked at him curiously. It was -the first time she had really studied his face closely since she knew. -Once or twice before she had been repelled by a flash of animal passion -in his eyes, and once she had caught sight of his face in the mirror in -the smoking-room at Kis-Imre, when it was distorted by a wolfish -expression of cruelty. Now both the passion and the cruelty were there, -expressed around his mouth and in his eyes which looked at her over the -tiny flickering flame. -</p> - -<p> -Deliberately he blew the match out, took a long whiff from his -cigarette, and said calmly: -</p> - -<p> -"How you are going to hate me after this!" After a second's pause he -added: "Well, I have had so much cruelty to endure from you in the past, -a little more or less won't make much difference." -</p> - -<p> -"I have never meant to be cruel, Jasper," Rosemary rejoined coldly. "But -I know now that the cruelest thing I ever did to you was to become your -wife." -</p> - -<p> -"You only found that out, my dear, since you saw Peter Blakeney again." -</p> - -<p> -To this Rosemary made no answer. She shrugged her shoulders and turned -her head away. Jasper jumped up and gripped her by the arm, making her -wince with pain. -</p> - -<p> -"Before we go any further, Rosemary," he said with a savage oath, "I'll -have it out with you. Are you still in love with Peter Blakeney?" -</p> - -<p> -"I refuse to answer," Rosemary said calmly. "You have no longer the -right to ask me such a question." -</p> - -<p> -"No longer the right," he retorted with a harsh laugh. "You are still my -wife, my dear. What happened this morning will not give you your freedom -in law, remember." -</p> - -<p> -"I know that, Jasper. What happened this morning has broken my life, -but, as you say, it cannot give me my freedom, save with your consent." -</p> - -<p> -He gave a derisive chuckle. "And you are reckoning on that, are you?" he -asked dryly. -</p> - -<p> -"I am reckoning on it." -</p> - -<p> -"Then all I can say, my dear, is that, for a clever woman, your -calculations are singularly futile." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't think so," she rejoined. "I know enough about the laws of -England to know that they do not compel me to live under your roof." -</p> - -<p> -"You mean that you intend to leave me?" -</p> - -<p> -"I do." -</p> - -<p> -"And create a scandal?" -</p> - -<p> -"There need be no scandal. We'll agree to live apart; that is all." -</p> - -<p> -"That is not all, my dear," he retorted dryly, "as you will find out to -your cost." -</p> - -<p> -"What do you mean?" -</p> - -<p> -"I mean that Peter Blakeney chose to follow you to Transylvania; any -number of witnesses can testify to that. I mean, that we are now in a -country where money will purchase everything, even such testimony as -will enable Lord Tarkington to divorce his wife, and raise such a hell -of scandal around Mr. Blakeney that no decent club would have him as a -member, and he would have to live out of England for the benefit of his -health." -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had listened to him without attempting to interrupt. She even -tried hard not to reveal the indignation which she felt. When he had -finished speaking, and once more threw himself into a chair, with a sigh -of self-satisfaction, she said quite quietly: -</p> - -<p> -"I thought that this morning I had probed the lowest depths to which a -man's nature could sink. But God help me! I have seen worse now!" -</p> - -<p> -"That is as it may be, my dear. A man fights for what he treasures with -any weapon that comes to his hand." -</p> - -<p> -"For what he treasures, yes! But you——" -</p> - -<p> -"I treasure you beyond all things on earth," he broke in hoarsely. "You -are my wife, my property, my own possession. You may love Blakeney and -hate me, but I have rights over you that all the sophistries in the -world cannot deny me. I alone," he went on, and in one second he was on -his feet again, and before she had time to defend herself he had her in -his arms. "I alone have the right to hold you as I am holding you now. I -alone have the right to demand a kiss. Kiss me, Rosemary, my beautiful, -exquisite wife, with the pixie eyes! Though you hate me, kiss -me—though you love him, kiss me——Mine is still the -better part." -</p> - -<p> -He pressed his lips against hers, and for these few horrible moments -Rosemary, half swooning, could only lie rigid in his arms. But horror -and loathing gave her strength. With her two hands she pushed against -him with all her might. "Let me go," she murmured. "I hate you." -</p> - -<p> -But he only laughed. "Of course you hate me. Well, I like your hatred -better than the cool indifference I have had from you up to now. You -hate me, my dear, because you don't understand. With all your vaunted -cleverness you don't understand. Women such as you—good women, I -suppose we must call them—never would understand all that there is -in a man that is evil and vicious and cruel. Yes, in every man! Deep -down in our souls we are blackguards, every one of us! Some of us are -what women have made us, others have vices ingrained in our souls at -birth. Have you ever seen a schoolboy tease a cat, or a lad set a -terrier against a stoat? Would you hate him for that? Not you! If he has -revolted you too much, you may punish him, but even so you'll only -smile: it is boy's nature, you will say. Well, boy's nature is man's -nature. Cruel, vicious! Civilization has laid a veneer over us. Some of -us appear gentle and kind and good. Gentle? Yes! On the surface. Deep -down in our souls, grown men as we are, we would still love to tease the -cat, or to see a terrier worry a stoat. Whilst men had slaves they -thrashed them. Where wives are submissive their husband beat them. Give -a man power to torture and he will do it. Boy's nature, I tell you, but -we dare not show it. We are gentlemen now, not men. And most of us have -a false idea that women would despise us if they knew. And so we smirk, -and toady, and pretend, and those of us who are not puppets writhe -against this pretence. I was born a savage. When I was a schoolboy I was -not content with teasing a cat, I loved to torture it; if a horse was -restive I would thrash it with the greatest joy. Later I revelled in -twisting a smaller boy's wrist until he screamed, in pulling a girl's -hair or pinching her arm—anything that hurt. Boy's nature. Most -women only smiled! Then came the war and the world was plunged in an -orgy of cruelty. I was a very fine linguist and became attached to the -secret service. I worked for the French army. I no longer pulled girls' -hair nor pinched their arms, but I—the spy—tracked enemy -spies down—women and men—dragged them out of their lair as a -terrier would a stoat, and brought them before the military tribunals to -be condemned and shot. But the women still smiled. Good women, mind you! -Those whom I was tracking down were Germans, and so I—the -spy—was a hero and they were only human refuse whom to torture was -a duty. When war was over and my uncle died I inherited a title, and -civilization threw the mantle of convention over me, imposed on me -certain obligations. My work was done. I became a puppet. I smirked and -toadied and tried to pretend. Oh, how I loathed it! Restrictions, -civilization, drove me mad! If I had never met you I should have gone -off to a land where I could keep slaves and work my will on them, or -turned Moslem and keep numberless wives, whom I could beat when the mood -seized me. But I met you, and all my desires were merged in the one -longing to have you for my own. You were adulated, famous, rich -probably. I had a title to offer you and nothing else. My friend de -Kervoisin, who knew my capabilities, spoke to me of Transylvania, a -conquered country where rebellion was rife. He spoke to me of Naniescu, -an ambitious man, unscrupulous and venal, who wanted help to consolidate -his position, to put himself right before his government and before the -world by bringing to light intrigues and conspiracies that did not -always exist. The work meant money. I took it on. I made over £100,000 -in three years, and there was more to come. Already I was a rich man and -the work satisfied the boy's nature in me. Following up a clue. -Disguises. Tracking a man down, or a woman. Seeing their fear, watching -their terror. Arrests, secret trials. Executions in the early dawn. -Scenes of desolation and farewells. I had them all! They helped me to -endure the London seasons, the evenings at the club, the balls, the -crowds, the futility of it all. And the money which. I earned brought me -nearer and nearer to you. Luck was on my side. Peter Blakeney courted -you, and like a fool he lost you. How? I did not know and cared less. I -won you because I was different from other men, because you were piqued, -and because I interested you. Because I knew how to smirk and to toady -better than most. Then came the question of Transylvania. Naniescu -entrusted me with the task of discovering the authorship of certain -articles that had appeared in English and American newspapers which -impugned his administration. He offered me ten thousand pounds if I -succeeded in bringing the author to justice, and ten thousand more if -certain articles which you were to write were published in the -<i>Times.</i> The very first morning that we were in Cluj the girl Anna -Heves gave away her secret. Once I had her and Philip under arrest it -was easy enough to bring pressure to bear upon you. I almost succeeded, -as you know. At first it was difficult—whilst Elza and Maurus -Imrey were ignorant of the bargain that Naniescu had proposed to you. I -had only gained one victory, I was not likely to win the other. So while -you thought me in Bucharest, I came back disguised as a gipsy and warned -Elza that Philip and Anna were in danger of death. This brought -everything to a head. Unfortunately Peter Blakeney already suspected me. -It began probably in England—exactly when I shall never -know—but he was my friend once, and then suddenly I felt that we -had become enemies. I must have given myself away at one time, I -suppose, and he is as sharp as a wild cat. He followed us to -Transylvania—to make sure. . . . Then at Cluj Anna Heves confided -in him. The children's arrest confirmed his suspicions, and that night -at Kis-Imre he recognised me under my disguise as a gipsy. Curse him! -After that the whole adventure became a battle of wits between him and -me. I won the first round when I spied out the plan for Philip and -Anna's escape; I won again when I persuaded you to place the whole -bargain between yourself and Naniescu before Elza, and indirectly -induced you to write the newspaper articles which he wanted. I thought I -had won an easy victory then. But Peter Blakeney stole your manuscript -and I feared then that I had lost everything. The death of Philip and -Anna Heves would have been some compensation, it is true, but I wanted -that extra ten thousand pounds more than I did the joy of seeing those -two children shot. I thought that Peter had stolen the manuscript in -order to bargain with it for the lives of his two cousins, but I know -better now. He sold your manuscript to Naniescu for the Kis-Imre -property. It will stand in his name until he can hand it over to the -Imreys again. In the meanwhile by a clever ruse he has got Philip and -Anna out of the country. And by now he will have sent a telegram in your -name to the <i>Times.</i> He has won the battle hands down. I am beaten -in all, except in one thing, I have <i>you.</i> Not all his -cleverness—and he is as clever as a monkey, it seems—can -take you away from me. If you leave me, you do so knowing the -consequences. Remember what I said: we are in a country where money can -purchase everything, even such testimony as will enable me to divorce -you and to raise such a hell of scandal around Peter Blakeney that no -decent man in England would shake him by the hand. So now you know. I -have told you my history, and I have extolled Peter Blakeney's -virtues—his heroism, if you like to call it so. And I have done it -deliberately so that you may admire him, regret him, love him if you -must, even whilst you feel yourself irrevocably bound to me. You are -just as much my slave now, as if I had bought you in the open market. If -you continue to hate me, I shall probably hate you too in the end. But -that would not help to free you. On the contrary, I think it would -rather amuse me. I was never content to tease a cat, I invariably -tortured it." -</p> - -<p> -Jasper Tarkington had been speaking without interruption for nearly ten -minutes, but he had not spoken without a pause. He was pacing up and -down the narrow room with his hands held behind his back, but now and -again he had come to halt, quite close to Rosemary, either to emphasize -a point, or to look her up and down with a glance of cruelty or merely -mockery. Rosemary withstood every glance without flinching. She was -standing close to the table with her hand resting on it, to give herself -support. She did not interrupt him. She wanted to hear everything he had -to say, right to the end. When he renewed his threat that he would call -false witnesses in order to create deadly scandal around Peter, and -warned her that she was as much his slave as if he had bought her in the -open market, she had, quite instinctively, glanced down on the tray -which contained the remnants of her supper. There was a knife on the -tray; one with a broad blade narrowing into a sharp point. She shuddered -and turned her eyes away, but Jasper had caught her glance. He had just -finished speaking, and he went deliberately up to the table, picked the -knife up by its point, and with a mocking smile held it with its handle -towards her. -</p> - -<p> -"Very dramatic," he said lightly. "Did you ever see <i>La Tosca?</i>" -</p> - -<p> -When she made no reply he laughed and threw the knife back on the table. -Then he sat down and lit another cigarette. -</p> - -<p> -There was silence in the little room now. Rosemary had scarcely moved. -The horror and indignation which she had felt at first when Jasper -embarked upon the history of his life had given place to a kind of moral -numbness. She had ceased to feel. Her body seemed turned to stone; even -her soul no longer rebelled. She was this man's wife, and he had warned -her of the means which he would adopt to bind her, unresisting, to him. -Nothing but death could loosen the bonds which he had tightened by his -threats against Peter. -</p> - -<p> -Jasper smoked on in silence. Only the fussy ticking of the old-fashioned -little clock broke the stillness that had descended over this lonely -corner of God's earth like a pall. A little while ago Rosemary had been -vaguely conscious of a certain amount of bustle and animation in the -house, and subconsciously she had associated this bustle with the -probable arrival of guests who had come off the night train. But that -had been some time ago. How long she did not know; probably before -Jasper had begun speaking. She looked at her watch. It was half past -two. Jasper jumped to his feet. -</p> - -<p> -"It must be very late," he said coolly. "I really must beg your pardon -for having kept you up so long. Reminiscences are apt to run away with -one." -</p> - -<p> -He put down his cigarette, deliberately went up to his wife and took her -by the shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -"Kiss me, Rosemary," he said quietly. -</p> - -<p> -It seemed to amuse him that she did not respond, for he gave a mocking -chuckle and put his arms round her. He pressed his lips upon her mouth, -her eyes, her throat. Then suddenly he let her go and she almost fell up -against the table. -</p> - -<p> -He then walked across to the door of his room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI</a></h4> - -<p> -Jasper Tarkington, on the point of entering his room, had switched on -the light and then paused on the threshold, uttering a gasp of -astonishment. -</p> - -<p> -"Maurus!" he exclaimed, "what in the world are you doing here?" -</p> - -<p> -Maurus Imrey was sprawling on the horse-hair sofa, apparently fast -asleep. At Jasper's ejaculation he opened his eyes, blinked, yawned, and -stretched his arms. -</p> - -<p> -"Ah! my dear Tarkington," he said in Hungarian. "I thought you were -never coming." -</p> - -<p> -He rose and shook himself like a big, shaggy dog, and passed his fingers -through his tousled hair. -</p> - -<p> -"I must have been fast asleep," he said. -</p> - -<p> -"But what are you doing here, my friend?" Jasper asked, frowning. -</p> - -<p> -"Waiting for you to do me a little service. It is so late, I don't -really like to ask you. But I should be badly stranded if you did not -help me." -</p> - -<p> -"What is it?" -</p> - -<p> -"I left Cluj by the midnight express," Maurus explained. "You know that -we have all been turned out of Kis-Imre. And, by the way, it is Peter -Blakeney who has bought the place. Isn't it a scandal? I never thought -he would be such a swine. You know he is a near relation of my wife's." -</p> - -<p> -"Yes, yes!" Jasper muttered impatiently. "What about it?" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, simply that those damned officials at Cluj station never told me -that I could only get as far as Sót. So I arrived here with my luggage -and Anton, and, of course, I found this beastly hotel full. Not a room -to be had, my dear fellow. Did you ever hear such a thing? In the olden -days one would just have taken a man by the scruff of his neck and -thrown him out of any room one happened to want for oneself. I don't -know what it's like with you in England, but here——" -</p> - -<p> -"Just as bad," Jasper broke in with a curse, "but in heaven's name get -on, man." -</p> - -<p> -"Well, then, I left my big luggage here, and Anton and I went on to -another little tavern I know of in the village. There, as luck would -have it, the proprietor whom I used to know is dead, and the new man is -one of those Bulgarian agriculturists who come over every year, you -know, for the harvesting. Some of these men do settle down here -sometimes, and this man——" -</p> - -<p> -"Well, what about him?" -</p> - -<p> -"He doesn't know a word of Hungarian, my dear fellow, and he does not -seem to understand much Roumanian either. You once told me that you had -been in Bulgaria and that you knew a little of their beastly language, -so I thought——" -</p> - -<p> -"What is it you want me to do?" Jasper broke in impatiently. "Walk over -with you and arrange with the man about your rooms?" -</p> - -<p> -"If you would not mind. Or could you let me sleep on your sofa?" -</p> - -<p> -Jasper had hesitated at first. It was close on three o'clock, and he did -not relish the idea of turning out again at this hour; but the -suggestion that Maurus should be his room companion for the night was -far more unpleasant. -</p> - -<p> -"Come along, then," he said curtly. "It isn't far, I suppose?" -</p> - -<p> -"Five minutes' walk, my dear fellow," Maurus said with obvious relief, -"just the other side of the stream. And Anton shall walk back with you -afterwards." -</p> - -<p> -"I don't want anybody to chaperone me," Jasper retorted roughly. -</p> - -<p> -He had to go into the salon to fetch his hat. Rosemary was still -standing there leaning against the table for support. She had very much -wanted to see Maurus at one time, but now it did not seem to matter. -Nothing probably would ever matter again. She heard Jasper's voice -saying in a whisper. "You've heard what this fool wants. I suppose I -shall have to go." -</p> - -<p> -She nodded in response. And then Jasper added with mocking courtesy: -</p> - -<p> -"Good night, Lady Tarkington." -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII</a></h4> - -<p> -Anton saw it all, and it was he who broke the news to Rosemary. -</p> - -<p> -He had been sitting up in the small slip of a room on the ground floor -which had been assigned to him, waiting for his master and wondering why -the gracious count should be so long upstairs at this hour with the -English lord and lady, when he saw the gracious count and the English -milord come along the first floor balcony, he heard them go downstairs, -and saw them go out of the house. -</p> - -<p> -Anton was rather anxious about his master because the gracious count had -been very, very queer the last twenty-four hours. Sometimes he would be -very hilarious; he would laugh and sing and shout "Hurrah for Peter! -Bravo!" and so on; at others he would be terribly depressed and sit and -cry like a child, or else tear about the place in a passion of fury. He -had had a slight fit after the gracious English lord and lady had gone, -and the sisters thought that probably the control he had put on himself -when the Roumanian soldiers brought the expulsion order had been too -much for his nerves. -</p> - -<p> -So when Anton saw the gracious count go out with the English lord at -this extraordinary hour he could not help but follow him. Though there -was no moon the sky was clear and the darkness of the night was just -beginning to yield to the first touch of dawn. The two gentlemen walked -quite fast, but Anton was able to keep them in sight. When they came to -the little wooden bridge that spans the stream the English lord was a -few steps ahead of the gracious count. Suddenly, in mid-stream, the -count sprang upon milord from behind, and in a moment had him by the -throat. The English lord, taken entirely by surprise, fought desperately -nevertheless. Anton had uttered a great shout, and ran to the rescue as -fast as ever he could. Through the gloom he could just see the English -milord forced down, with his back nearly doubled over the slender -parapet of the bridge, and the gracious count bending over him and -holding him by the throat. Anton's shout echoed from mountain to -mountain, but all around there was the silence of the night, broken only -by the howling of a dog outside a cottage door. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly, before Anton set his foot upon the bridge, the -catastrophe occurred. The parapet suddenly crashed and gave way under -the weight of the two men, and they were hurled into the stream below. -One awful cry rent the stillness of the night. Anton, half crazy with -horror, waded into the stream, the waters of which at a point near a -huge boulder were stained with a streak of crimson. The English milord -in falling had broken his head against the stone. The gracious count had -probably fallen at first on the top of him, and then rolled over on his -back, thus breaking his fall. Anton dragged them both single-handed out -of the stream, first his master, then the English lord. The latter was -dead, but the gracious count was still breathing and moaning softly. -Anton laid him down upon the grass, and made a pillow for him with his -own coat, which he had taken off. Then he ran to the priest's house, -which was quite close, and rang the bell until he made someone hear. The -priest had been quite kind. He roused his servant, and together—the -priest and Anton and the servant—carried the gracious count into the -presbytery. But the English milord, who was quite dead, they laid upon -the bier in the tiny mortuary chapel which was by the entrance of the -churchyard. -</p> - -<p> -The priest had already sent for the village doctor, who had done what he -could for the gracious count, but, of course, he was ignorant, and, -anyhow, Anton was of the opinion that there was nothing that any man -could do. But he had been to the station and roused the station-master -and asked him to telephone to Dr. Zacharias at Cluj. Anton was just -going to run back and see if the answer had come through. In the -meanwhile he had come over to the hotel to see if he could speak with -the gracious lady. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had not yet thought of going to bed. For two hours after Jasper -went out with Maurus she had sat, unthinking, by the open window. Time -for her had ceased to be. She had heard the howling of a dog. At one -moment she had heard a shout, and then a weird and prolonged cry. But -these sounds conveyed no meaning to her brain. Her thinking powers were -atrophied. -</p> - -<p> -Then the bare-footed, buxom, very sleepy little maid came to tell her -that Anton, the valet of the gracious count at Kis-Imre, desired to -speak with her at once. She was fully dressed; she sent for Anton and he -told her what he had seen. -</p> - -<p> -Hastily seizing hat and wrap, she went with Anton out of the house and -through the village to the priest's house. The soft, colourless light of -dawn lay over the mountain and valley. On ahead the turbulent waters of -the stream tossed and played around the projecting boulders, murmuring -of the tragedy which had culminated within their bosom. Nearing the -priest's house Rosemary could see the narrow bridge, with its broken -parapet—— -</p> - -<p> -The priest met her at the gate. The gracious count, he said, had not -regained consciousness. He still lived, the doctor said, but life only -hung by a thread. Rosemary sat down by Maurus' bedside and watched that -life slowly ebbing away. In the late afternoon Dr. Zacharias came over -from Cluj. He only confirmed what the village doctor had said. The spine -was broken. It was only a question of hours. He could do nothing, but at -Rosemary's earnest request—or perhaps on the promise of a heavy -fee—he agreed to come again in the morning. -</p> - -<p> -Less than an hour after he left the dying man rallied a little. He -opened his eyes, and seeing Rosemary, his face was illumined by a great -joy. She bent over him and kissed his forehead. Two tears rolled slowly -down his wan cheeks. He murmured something, and she bent her ear till it -was quite close to his lips. -</p> - -<p> -"He was a monster," he murmured. "I heard everything. I had to punish -him for the evil he did to my wife and the children. And I have made you -free." -</p> - -<p> -At sunset Maurus Count Imrey passed away into the Unknown. -</p> - -<p> -Then only did Rosemary leave his bedside. Accompanied by the priest, she -went to the little mortuary chapel to take a last look at the man who -had done her such an infinity of wrong. Now that his stormy life was -ended, and his hard features were set in lines of peace, Rosemary felt -once more that aching sense of pity for him which so often before had -prompted her to forgive. She was able to commend his turbulent soul to -God without the slightest thought of hatred or revenge. He had said once -that she would never understand; but the infinite pity in her heart was -born of an infinite understanding. The man who had atoned for his sins -by this tragic death was not wholly responsible for his actions. He was -the victim of his temperament: more sinned against, perhaps, than -sinning. Who knows? If some other woman had captured his fancy she might -have made him happy, found what was strong and fine in him, and all that -was cruel would perhaps have been submerged beneath a great wave of -love. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - - -<h4><a id="CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII</a></h4> - -<p> -Since then, nearly two years! And this was the season of 1924! Wembley! -The Rodeo! Royalties from Italy and Denmark and Roumania! The Labour -Government! -</p> - -<p> -How far, how very far, seemed Transylvania and Sót and the little -mortuary chapel wherein Rosemary had gazed for the last time on the -enigmatic personality which had once been Jasper Tarkington—her -husband. -</p> - -<p> -Even in death he had kept his secret—the secret of that strange dual -entity which she had never been able to reconcile one with the other, -the cruel, wolfish nature so skilfully hidden beneath the mantle of -supercivilisation. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary had not seen Peter since then. After the tragedy at Sót she -had at last succeeded, by dint of bribery, in entering into direct -communication with the British Consulate at Cluj. -</p> - -<p> -Arrangements for the conveying of Lord Tarkington's body to England took -up some considerable time. She only met Elza in Budapest when she -herself was on her way home. Peter had left by then for an unknown -destination. He had conveyed Philip and Anna over the frontier. They had -soon abandoned the car, fearing pursuit, and in disguise had made their -way to the frontier over the mountains. They were young and strong, the -hardships were not serious, and the dangers reduced to a minimum once -they had reached the lonely mountain passes. It was the planning of the -escape that had been so wonderful. Peter Blakeney, disguised as a -Roumanian officer, and having with him Captain Payson and a young -Hungarian cricketer, bath dressed as Roumanian soldiers, had presented a -forged order for the surrender of the two prisoners, Philip Imrey and -Anna Heves. To the officer commanding the depôt the order appeared in -no way suspicious, and he gave up the prisoners without question. After -that the whole thing became just a delightful adventure, nothing more. -But Elza spoke of Peter with tears in her eyes. They had all of them -mistrusted him. Wasn't that strange? Did Rosemary guess? Elza wanted to -know, and Philip and Anna plied her with questions. -</p> - -<p> -These were sad days for them all. But still Elza was wonderful, as -wonderful as she had ever been. Even Rosemary never actually found out -just how much of the tragedy Elza knew or guessed. Anton did not tell -her, and to their world the death of the two men who were known to have -been friends was just a terrible accident. Darkness. A broken bridge. -Fatality. -</p> - -<p> -Rosemary never told, of course. She wondered if Peter knew. She waited -on in Budapest for some days hoping for news of him. But none came. -Captain Payson heard in an indirect way that Peter was still in -Transylvania, but no reliance could be placed on the truth of the -rumour. It was only when Rosemary was back in England that she heard -definite news of Peter. Elza wrote to say that he was living in -Kis-Imre. "He is administering the property for us," she went on. "Isn't -he wonderful? I am sure he will make something more of it than poor -Maurus was able to do. Of course, they dare not do anything to him -because he is a British subject, and he tells me in his last letter that -he hopes in a very few years' time, when justice has been at last meted -out to our unfortunate country, to hand over Kis-Imre to Philip in a -better state than it is now. Then my poor Philip's dream will, I hope, -come true. He and Anna have loved each other ever since they were tiny -children. When he has once more a fine home to offer her they will be -married with my blessing. And all this we shall owe to Peter Blakeney. -Can you wonder, my dear, that we all worship him? When I look at him I -seem to see my dear and beautiful sister gazing at me through his eyes, -and in his smile I see something of hers, because just like Peter, she -was always ready to laugh, always smiling at the world, always doing -great and kind things under cover of a joke. So Philip and Anna and I, -we bless Peter, and for some reason, which perhaps you can explain -better than I, when we think of him we immediately also think of you." -</p> - -<p> -Since then nearly two years! Rosemary has resumed work. Her powerful -articles in <i>The International Review</i> on the conditions obtaining in -Transylvania under alien occupation have begun at last to arouse from -its apathy public opinion in England and America. Time and her own -perseverance, aided by the lovers of justice and fair play who abound in -Anglo-Saxon communities, would after a while, she felt, do the rest. -Rosemary had seen the rampant evil with her own eyes, now she was -conscious of her power to help in remedying, or, at any rate, mitigating -it. She threw herself heart and soul into the work, not only because she -loved it and because it thrilled her, but because work alone could help -her to forget. "Try to forget" were the last words which she heard Peter -speak, there in the woods beside the turbulent mountain stream when she -had thought him a spy, a vile and venal wretch, and he had not said one -word to exculpate himself. How could he when this might have meant -rousing her suspicions of Jasper?—or perhaps it was just pride that -had caused him to hold his tongue. Pride which so often has proved love's -most persistent enemy. -</p> - -<p> -Or perhaps he no longer cared, and that was why he thought it would be -so easy for her to forget. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Since then nearly two years! Rosemary walked through the park that late -afternoon in July. She had been to the Albert Hall to hear Kreisler, and -she wandered up the Broad Walk under the trees, because she did not feel -that she could stand the noise and bustle of streets at a moment when -her whole soul was still full of the exquisite music conjured up by that -great magician. It was very hot and she was rather tired, so she sat -down on a chair in the shade. Then suddenly she saw Peter. He was coming -towards her, quite naturally, as if to an assignation. He looked just -the same as he always did—like a boy, clean and straight-limbed as a -young god, his eyes shining with excitement, that quaint, -self-deprecating smile on his lips that Rosemary knew so well. -</p> - -<p> -"I've been to hear old Kreisler," were the first words he said. "Wasn't -he wonderful?" -</p> - -<p> -So like Peter! He dragged a chair quite close to hers and sat down. He -threw down his hat and passed his hand through his hair. He did not -attempt to shake hands or to greet her in any way. "I've been to hear -old Kreisler!" So like Peter! The very first words . . . and she hadn't -seen him for nearly two years. -</p> - -<p> -After a second or two he went on: "I wouldn't speak to you in the Albert -Hall. When you went out I followed you. I knew you would wander out -here." -</p> - -<p> -And Rosemary asked quite casually: "Have you been in England long?" -</p> - -<p> -"Only a few hours," Peter replied with a laugh. "I crossed over by the -night boat, <i>via</i> Havre. I always meant to sample that journey, and it -was really rather nice." After that he was silent for a moment; then -suddenly he seized her hand. She had no gloves on, and he held the soft -palm to his lips. Rosemary did not move. She was not looking at Peter; -she was just watching a huge blackbird that had landed on the elm tree -opposite and who was whistling away for dear life. -</p> - -<p> -"Rosemary, when can we be married?" Peter asked abruptly. -</p> - -<p> -She couldn't help smiling. It was so like Peter. "I've waited two years, -dash it all," he went on. "And during those two years I've been in hell. -Now I'm not going to wait any longer. When can we be married, Rosemary?" -</p> - -<p> -Then Rosemary ceased to watch the blackbird and turned slowly to look at -Peter. -</p> - -<p> -"Whenever you like, dear," she replied. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<h4>THE END</h4> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PIMPERNEL AND ROSEMARY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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