Part 20 (1/2)
The Chancellor rose, slowly and painfully, with a reminiscence of the gout, and Maximilian regarded him in surprise, ”What do you mean?” he asked.
”Only that since I can do no further good, I shall, with your permission, get out at this station, and go back to Salzbruck.”
The Emperor realized, what he had not noticed until this moment, that the train was slowing down, as it pa.s.sed into the suburbs of a town.
He and the Chancellor had talked together for a full hour, and he was far from regretting the prospect of being left to himself. More than once he had come perilously near to losing his temper, forgetting his grat.i.tude and the old man's years. How much longer he could have held out, under a continued strain of provocation, he did not know; and he spoke no word of dissuasion, as Count von Markstein picked up his hat and b.u.t.toned the well-known gray overcoat for departure.
”I have pa.s.sed pleasanter hours in your society, I admit,” said Maximilian, when the train stopped. ”But I thank you for your motives, if not your maxims; and here's my hand.”
The Chancellor bowed low, until only the s.h.i.+ning top of his bald head was visible, as he accepted the token of amnesty.
”If Your Majesty would grant me yet one more favour in this connection, I should be grateful,” he declared. ”I find myself fatigued by the anxieties of the past few days, and I shall rest for some hours at my house in Salzbruck. Will you communicate with me by telephone when you have reached Wandeck, saying whether you remain there; whether you return at once; or whether you go farther?”
”I will do that willingly,” said Maximilian. Again he pressed the Chancellor's hand, which was very cold, as the hands of old persons sometimes are; and five minutes later he was journeying on, alone.
CHAPTER XIII
NEWS BY TELEPHONE
WHEN the Emperor arrived at Wandeck he went immediately to the hotel which in his telegram, he had designated as a place of meeting. But no such ladies as he hoped to find had come to the Maximilianhof; and the question raised by this intelligence was, whether Miss de Courcy had failed to receive his message or, having received, had chosen to ignore it.
The doubt, harrowing while it lasted, was solved by returning to the Bahnhof; though certainty proved scarcely less tantalizing than uncertainty had been. The telegram was still in the hands of the stationmaster, to whose care it had been addressed. This diligent person had himself gone through the Orient express, from end to end, inquiring for Miss de Courcy, but no one had responded. The lady might already have left the train at Wandeck, it was true; her description might be given and inquiries made; but she would certainly not have had time to go far, and return to the train again before its departure.
It was evident throughout the short conversation that the unfortunate official was on pins and needles. Struck by the Emperor's features, which he had seen so often in painting and photograph, it yet seemed impossible that the greatest man in Rhaetia could thus be travelling about the country, in ordinary morning dress, and unattended. Sure at one instant that it must be the Emperor, as sure the next that it was not, the poor fellow struggled against his confusion in a way that would have amused Maximilian had he not been too much engrossed with other matters even to observe it. With a manner that essayed the difficult mean between reverence due to Royalty and commonplace courtesy good enough for everyday gentlemen, the stationmaster volunteered to ascertain whether the ladies described had pa.s.sed out, delivering up their tickets. A few moments of suspense followed; then came the news that no such persons had been seen.
Here was a quandary. Since Mary de Courcy and her mother had not travelled by the Orient express, where had they gone on leaving the Hohenburgerhof? Had they deceived Baroness von Lynar regarding their intentions, for the purpose of blinding the Emperor (a purpose well served), or had they simply changed their minds, as women may? Was it possible that they had changed them so radically as to go back to Schloss Lynarberg; or had they chosen to be mysterious, and vanish from Rhaetia, leaving no trace behind? Maximilian recalled the Chancellor's revelations, then dismissed them as soon as thought of.
Wherever lay the clue to this tangle, it was not in any act of which Mary de Courcy need be ashamed.
There seemed to be nothing for it but to go back to Salzbruck and await developments, or rather, stir them up by every means within his power. This was the course which Maximilian chose; and, just as he was about to act upon it, he remembered his careless promise to Count von Markstein.
There was a telephone in the railway station, and in a few moments came the ”ping” of the bell which told that connection was established; then the ”h.e.l.lo!” which Germany and Rhaetia had adopted from America, brought an answering squeak, unmistakably in the Chancellor's voice.
”My friends are not here; I am starting for Salzbruck again by the next train,” cautiously remarked the Emperor. ”I don't see the use of bothering with this, but would not break my promise. That's all; good-bye--eh?--what did you say?”
”I--have--a--piece of extraordinary news for you,” came over the wire from Salzbruck. ”About the ladies.”
”What is it?” demanded Maximilian, in the pause that followed.
”I hinted of information which might make you see certain matters differently. I could not speak more definitely then, for I was not sure. Now I _am_ sure. Your friends did not go by the Orient express.”
”I know that already,” returned the Emperor, whose eyes began to flash, and who glared at the telephone as if it were some noxious beast spitting venom.
”They gave out that they were leaving Rhaetia. But they have not crossed the frontier.”
”I am much obliged to you for the information. It is exactly what I wanted,” was the Emperor's retort.
”You know who bought a hunting-lodge near Bunden, in the Niederwald, last year?”
”Yes, I know whom you mean,” went sullenly over the wire. ”What has that to do with my friends?”