CHAPTER III. AGAIN TO ZENDA
By Heaven's care, or--since a man may be over-apt to arrogate to
himself great share of such attention--by good luck, I had not to
trust for my life to the slender thread of an oath sworn by
Rupert of Hentzau. The visions of my dazed brain were
transmutations of reality; the scuffle, the rush, the retreat
were not all dream.
There is an honest fellow now living in Wintenberg comfortably
and at his ease by reason that his wagon chanced to come
lumbering along with three or four stout lads in it at the moment
when Rupert was meditating a second and murderous blow. Seeing
the group of us, the good carrier and his lads leapt down and
rushed on my assailants. One of the thieves, they said, was for
fighting it out--I could guess who that was--and called on the
rest to stand; but they, more prudent, laid hands on him, and, in
spite of his oaths, hustled him off along the road towards the
station. Open country lay there and the promise of safety. My new
friends set off in pursuit; but a couple of revolver shots, heard
by me, but not understood, awoke their caution. Good Samaritans,
but not men of war, they returned to where I lay senseless on the
ground, congratulating themselves and me that an enemy so well
armed should run and not stand his ground. They forced a drink of
rough wine down my throat, and in a minute or two I opened my
eyes. They were for carrying me to a hospital; I would have none
of it. As soon as things grew clear to me again and I knew where
I was, I did nothing but repeat in urgent tones, "The Golden
Lion, The Golden Lion! Twenty crowns to carry me to the Golden
Lion."
Perceiving that I knew my own business and where I wished to go,
one picked up my hand-bag and the rest hoisted me into their
wagon and set out for the hotel where Rudolf Rassendyll was. The
one thought my broken head held was to get to him as soon as
might be and tell him how I had been fool enough to let myself be
robbed of the queen's letter.
He was there. He stood on the threshold of the inn, waiting for
me, as it seemed, although it was not yet the hour of my
appointment. As they drew me up to the door, I saw his tall,
straight figure and his red hair by the light of the hall lamps.
By Heaven, I felt as a lost child must on sight of his mother! I
stretched out my hand to him, over the side of the wagon,
murmuring, "I've lost it."
He started at the words, and sprang forward to me. Then he turned
quickly to the carrier.
"This gentleman is my friend," he said. "Give him to me. I'll
speak to you later." He waited while I was lifted down from the
wagon into the arms that he held ready for me, and himself
carried me across the threshold. I was quite clear in the head by
now and understood all that passed. There were one or two people
in the hall, but Mr. Rassendyll took no heed of them. He bore me
quickly upstairs and into his sitting-room. There he set me down
in an arm-chair, and stood opposite to me. He was smiling, but
anxiety was awake in his eyes.
"I've lost it," I said again, looking up at him pitifully enough.
"That's all right," said he, nodding. "Will you wait, or can you
tell me?"
"Yes, but give me some brandy," said I.
Rudolf gave me a little brandy mixed in a great deal of water,
and then I made shift to tell him. Though faint, I was not
confused, and I gave my story in brief, hurried, yet sufficient
words. He made no sign till I mentioned the letter. Then his face
changed.
"A letter, too?" he exclaimed, in a strange mixture of increased
apprehension and unlooked-for joy.
"Yes, a letter, too; she wrote a letter, and I carried that as
well as the box. I've lost them both, Rudolf. God help me, I've
lost them both! Rupert has the letter too!" I think I must have
been weak and unmanned from the blow I had received, for my
composure broke down here. Rudolf stepped up to me and wrung me
by the hand. I mastered myself again and looked in his face as he
stood in thought, his hand caressing the strong curve of his
clean-shaven chin. Now that I was with him again it seemed as
though I had never lost him; as though we were still together in
Strelsau or at Tarlenheim, planning how to hoodwink Black
Michael, send Rupert of Hentzau to his own place, and bring the
king back to his throne. For Mr. Rassendyll, as he stood before
me now, was changed in nothing since our last meeting, nor indeed
since he reigned in Strelsau, save that a few flecks of gray
spotted his hair.
My battered head ached most consumedly. Mr. Rassendyll rang the
bell twice, and a short, thickset man of middle age appeared; he
wore a suit of tweed, and had the air of smartness and
respectability which marks English servants.
"James," said Rudolf, "this gentleman has hurt his head. Look
after it."
James went out. In a few minutes he was back, with water, basin,
towels, and bandages. Bending over me, he began to wash and tend
my wound very deftly. Rudolf was walking up and down.
"Done the head, James?" he asked, after a few moments.
"Yes, sir," answered the servant, gathering together his
appliances.
"Telegraph forms, then."
James went out, and was back with the forms in an instant.
"Be ready when I ring," said Rudolf. And he added, turning to me,
"Any easier, Fritz?"
"I can listen to you now," I said.
"I see their game," said he. "One or other of them, Rupert or
this Rischenheim, will try to get to the king with the letter."
I sprang to my feet.
"They mustn't," I cried, and I reeled back into my chair, with a
feeling as if a red-hot poker were being run through my head.
"Much you can do to stop 'em, old fellow," smiled Rudolf, pausing
to press my hand as he went by. "They won't trust the post, you
know. One will go. Now which?" He stood facing me with a
thoughtful frown on his face.
I did not know, but I thought that Rischenheim would go. It was a
great risk for Rupert to trust himself in the kingdom, and he
knew that the king would not easily be persuaded to receive him,
however startling might be the business he professed as his
errand. On the other hand, nothing was known against Rischenheim,
while his rank would secure, and indeed entitle, him to an early
audience. Therefore I concluded that Rischenheim would go with
the letter, or, if Rupert would not let that out of his
possession, with the news of the letter.
"Or a copy," suggested Rassendyll. "Well, Rischenheim or Rupert
will be on his way by to-morrow morning, or is on his way
to-night."
Again I tried to rise, for I was on fire to prevent the fatal
consequences of my stupidity. Rudolf thrust me back in my chair,
saying, "No, no." Then he sat down at the table and took up the
telegraph forms.
"You and Sapt arranged a cipher, I suppose?" he asked.
"Yes. You write the message, and I'll put it into the cipher."
"This is what I've written: 'Document lost. Let nobody see him if
possible. Wire who asks.' I don't like to make it plainer: most
ciphers can be read, you know."
"Not ours," said I.
"Well, but will that do?" asked Rudolf, with an unconvinced
smile.
"Yes, I think he'll understand it." And I wrote it again in the
cipher; it was as much as I could do to hold the pen.
The bell was rung again, and James appeared in an instant.
"Send this," said Rudolf.
"The offices will be shut, sir."
"James, James!"
"Very good, sir; but it may take an hour to get one open."
"I'll give you half an hour. Have you money?"
"Yes, sir."
"And now," added Rudolf, turning to me, "you'd better go to bed."
I do not recollect what I answered, for my faintness came upon me
again, and I remember only that Rudolf himself helped me into his
own bed. I slept, but I do not think he so much as lay down on
the sofa; chancing to awake once or twice, I heard him pacing
about. But towards morning I slept heavily, and I did not know
what he was doing then. At eight o'clock James entered and roused
me. He said that a doctor was to be at the hotel in half an hour,
but that Mr. Rassendyll would like to see me for a few minutes if
I felt equal to business. I begged James to summon his master at
once. Whether I were equal or unequal, the business had to be
done.
Rudolf came, calm and serene. Danger and the need for exertion
acted on him like a draught of good wine on a seasoned drinker.
He was not only himself, but more than himself: his excellences
enhanced, the indolence that marred him in quiet hours sloughed
off. But to-day there was something more; I can only describe it
as a kind of radiance. I have seen it on the faces of young
sparks when the lady they love comes through the ball-room door,
and I have seen it glow more softly in a girl's eyes when some
fellow who seemed to me nothing out of the ordinary asked her for
a dance. That strange gleam was on Rudolf's face as he stood by
my bedside. I dare say it used to be on mine when I went
courting.
"Fritz, old friend," said he, "there's an answer from Sapt. I'll
lay the telegraph offices were stirred in Zenda as well as James
stirred them here in Wintenberg! And what do you think?
Rischenheim asked for an audience before he left Strelsau."
I raised myself on my elbow in the bed.
"You understand?" he went on. "He left on Monday. To-day's
Wednesday. The king has granted him an audience at four on
Friday. Well, then--"
"They counted on success," I cried, "and Rischenheim takes the
letter!"
"A copy, if I know Rupert of Hentzau. Yes, it was well laid. I
like the men taking all the cabs! How much ahead had they, now."
I did not know that, though I had no more doubt than he that
Rupert's hand was in the business.
"Well," he continued, "I am going to wire to Sapt to put
Rischenheim off for twelve hours if he can; failing that, to get
the king away from Zenda."
"But Rischenheim must have his audience sooner or later," I
objected.
"Sooner or later--there's the world's difference between them!"
cried Rudolf Rassendyll. He sat down on the bed by me, and went
on in quick, decisive words: "You can't move for a day or two.
Send my message to Sapt. Tell him to keep you informed of what
happens. As soon as you can travel, go to Strelsau, and let Sapt
know directly you arrive. We shall want your help."
"And what are you going to do?" I cried, staring at him.
He looked at me for a moment, and his face was crossed by
conflicting feelings. I saw resolve there, obstinacy, and the
scorn of danger; fun, too, and merriment; and, lastly, the same
radiance I spoke of. He had been smoking a cigarette; now he
threw the end of it into the grate and rose from the bed where he
had been sitting.
"I'm going to Zenda," said he.
"To Zenda!" I cried, amazed.
"Yes," said Rudolf. "I'm going again to Zenda, Fritz, old fellow.
By heaven, I knew it would come, and now it has come!"
"But to do what?"
"I shall overtake Rischenheim or be hot on his heels. If he gets
there first, Sapt will keep him waiting till I come; and if I
come, he shall never see the king. Yes, if I come in time--" He
broke into a sudden laugh. "What!" he cried, "have I lost my
likeness? Can't I still play the king? Yes, if I come in time,
Rischenheim shall have his audience of the king of Zenda, and the
king will be very gracious to him, and the king will take his
copy of the letter from him! Oh, Rischenheim shall have an
audience of King Rudolf in the castle of Zenda, never fear!"
He stood, looking to see how I received his plan; but amazed at
the boldness of it, I could only lie back and gasp.
Rudolf's excitement left him as suddenly as it had come; he was
again the cool, shrewd, nonchalant Englishman, as, lighting
another cigarette, he proceeded:
"You see, there are two of them, Rupert and Rischenheim. Now you
can't move for a day or two, that's certain. But there must be
two of us there in Ruritania. Rischenheim is to try first; but if
he fails, Rupert will risk everything and break through to the
king's presence. Give him five minutes with the king, and the
mischief's done! Very well, then; Sapt must keep Rupert at bay
while I tackle Rischenheim. As soon as you can move, go to
Strelsau, and let Sapt know where you are."
"But if you're seen, if you're found out?"
"Better I than the queen's letter," said he. Then he laid his
hand on my arm and said, quite quietly, "If the letter gets to
the king, I and I only can do what must be done."
I did not know what he meant; perhaps it was that he would carry
off the queen sooner than leave her alone after her letter was
known; but there was another possible meaning that I, a loyal
subject, dared not inquire into. Yet I made no answer, for I was
above all and first of all the queen's servant. Still I cannot
believe that he meant harm to the king.
"Come, Fritz," he cried, "don't look so glum. This is not so
great an affair as the other, and we brought that through safe."
I suppose I still looked doubtful, for he added, with a sort of
impatience, "Well, I'm going, anyhow. Heavens, man, am I to sit
here while that letter is carried to the king?"
I understood his feeling, and knew that he held life a light
thing compared with the recovery of Queen Flavia's letter. I
ceased to urge him. When I assented to his wishes, every shadow
vanished from his face, and he began to discuss the details of
the plan with business-like brevity.
"I shall leave James with you," said Rudolf. "He'll be very
useful, and you can rely on him absolutely. Any message that you
dare trust to no other conveyance, give to him; he'll carry it.
He can shoot, too." He rose as he spoke. "I'll look in before I
start," he added, "and hear what the doctor says about you."
I lay there, thinking, as men sick and weary in body will, of the
dangers and the desperate nature of the risk, rather than of the
hope which its boldness would have inspired in a healthy, active
brain. I distrusted the rapid inference that Rudolf had drawn
from Sapt's telegram, telling myself that it was based on too
slender a foundation. Well, there I was wrong, and I am glad now
to pay that tribute to his discernment. The first steps of
Rupert's scheme were laid as Rudolf had conjectured: Rischenheim
had started, even while I lay there, for Zenda, carrying on his
person a copy of the queen's farewell letter and armed for his
enterprise by his right of audience with the king. So far we were
right, then; for the rest we were in darkness, not knowing or
being able even to guess where Rupert would choose to await the
result of the first cast, or what precautions he had taken
against the failure of his envoy. But although in total obscurity
as to his future plans, I traced his past actions, and subsequent
knowledge has shown that I was right. Bauer was the tool; a
couple of florins apiece had hired the fellows who, conceiving
that they were playing a part in some practical joke, had taken
all the cabs at the station. Rupert had reckoned that I should
linger looking for my servant and luggage, and thus miss my last
chance of a vehicle. If, however, I had obtained one, the attack
would still have been made, although, of course, under much
greater difficulties. Finally--and of this at the time I knew
nothing--had I evaded them and got safe to port with my cargo,
the plot would have been changed. Rupert's attention would then
have been diverted from me to Rudolf; counting on love overcoming
prudence, he reckoned that Mr. Rassendyll would not at once
destroy what the queen sent, and had arranged to track his steps
from Wintenberg till an opportunity offered of robbing him of his
treasure. The scheme, as I know it, was full of audacious
cunning, and required large resources--the former Rupert himself
supplied; for the second he was indebted to his cousin and slave,
the Count of Luzau-Rischenheim.
My meditations were interrupted by the arrival of the doctor. He
hummed and ha'd over me, but to my surprise asked me no questions
as to the cause of my misfortune, and did not, as I had feared,
suggest that his efforts should be seconded by those of the
police. On the contrary, he appeared, from an unobtrusive hint or
two, to be anxious that I should know that his discretion could
be trusted.
"You must not think of moving for a couple of days," he said;
"but then, I think we can get you away without danger and quite
quietly."
I thanked him; he promised to look in again; I murmured something
about his fee.
"Oh, thank you, that is all settled," he said. "Your friend Herr
Schmidt has seen to it, and, my dear sir, most liberally."
He was hardly gone when 'my friend Herr Schmidt'--alias Rudolf
Rassendyll--was back. He laughed a little when I told him how
discreet the doctor had been.
"You see," he explained, "he thinks you've been very indiscreet.
I was obliged, my dear Fritz, to take some liberties with your
character. However, it's odds against the matter coming to your
wife's ears."
"But couldn't we have laid the others by the heels?"
"With the letter on Rupert? My dear fellow, you're very ill."
I laughed at myself, and forgave Rudolf his trick, though I think
that he might have made my fictitious inamorata something more
than a baker's wife. It would have cost no more to make her a
countess, and the doctor would have looked with more respect on
me. However, Rudolf had said that the baker broke my head with
his rolling-pin, and thus the story rests in the doctor's mind to
this day.
"Well, I'm off," said Rudolf.
"But where?"
"Why, to that same little station where two good friends parted
from me once before. Fritz, where's Rupert gone?"
"I wish we knew."
"I lay he won't be far off."
"Are you armed?"
"The six-shooter. Well, yes, since you press me, a knife, too;
but only if he uses one. You'll let Sapt know when you come?"
"Yes; and I come the moment I can stand?"
"As if you need tell me that, old fellow!"
"Where do you go from the station?"
"To Zenda, through the forest," he answered. "I shall reach the
station about nine to-morrow night, Thursday. Unless Rischenheim
has got the audience sooner than was arranged, I shall be in
time."
"How will you get hold of Sapt?"
"We must leave something to the minute."
"God bless you, Rudolf."
"The king sha'n't have the letter, Fritz."
There was a moment's silence as we shook hands. Then that soft
yet bright look came in his eyes again. He looked down at me, and
caught me regarding him with a smile that I know was not unkind.
"I never thought I should see her again," he said. "I think I
shall now, Fritz. To have a turn with that boy and to see her
again--it's worth something."
"How will you see her?"
Rudolf laughed, and I laughed too. He caught my hand again. I
think that he was anxious to infect me with his gayety and
confidence. But I could not answer to the appeal of his eyes.
There was a motive in him that found no place in me--a great
longing, the prospect or hope of whose sudden fulfilment dwarfed
danger and banished despair. He saw that I detected its presence
in him and perceived how it filled his mind.
"But the letter comes before all," said he. "I expected to die
without seeing her; I will die without seeing her, if I must, to
save the letter."
"I know you will," said I.
He pressed my hand again. As he turned away, James came with his
noiseless, quick step into the room.
"The carriage is at the door, sir," said he.
"Look after the count, James," said Rudolf. "Don't leave him till
he sends you away."
"Very well, sir."
I raised myself in bed.
"Here's luck," I cried, catching up the lemonade James had
brought me, and taking a gulp of it.
"Please God," said Rudolf, with a shrug.
And he was gone to his work and his reward--to save the queen's
letter and to see the queen's face. Thus he went a second time to
Zenda.
