Part 28 (1/2)

Leaving all these difficulties to be solved as they arose, I arranged my thick veil and throwing the cloak over my shoulders, hurried out. A footman stood by the carriage door, and I was glad I had thought to put the veil on before leaving the house.

He touched his hat, closed the door, climbed to the box, and we started at a smart pace. For good or ill I was now committed to the matter, and there was no drawing back.

Nor had I any thought or wish except to go through with it. My heart was beating more rapidly than usual, and I was excited; but not frightened. On the contrary, I was full of confidence, full of belief that I was doing the right thing, let the risk to myself be what it might; and convinced that I was taking not only the surest but the shortest road to the end I had in view.

On one thing I was resolved. Count Gustav must not recognize me. That was all in all to me at that moment. If he did, I saw clearly the use he could make of that knowledge.

Not only could he blacken my reputation by saying I had run away with Karl; but he could also use the fact with telling force against Karl himself--that he had married the daughter of Colonel von Dreschler, the murderer of Count Stephen.

Such a thing would suit his plans far better than the complication with Madame d'Artelle, a mere adventuress, with whom no marriage was legally possible. If he but knew it, I was thus playing right into his hands.

But then he did not, and should not know it, until it was too late to be of use to him. He would spread about the story of Karl's marriage to Madame d'Artelle, only to find that she was on her way hot speed to Berlin at the very time.

And when the time came for the truth to be told--well, I had my plans already laid for his own exposure; and they would keep him busy defending himself.

The carriage rattled through the streets, covering quickly the short distance to the rendezvous in the Radialstra.s.se; and when it drew up I peered out eagerly through the closed window, and then saw that which gave me a profound surprise.

A tall man sauntered past the carriage, scrutinizing it with great earnestness; and as the light from one of the lamps shone on his face, I recognized Colonel Katona.

What could be the meaning of his presence at such a time? Was it more than coincidence? It could not be that. He was a recluse, and rarely if ever left his house to walk in the city. Why should he choose such a night, and such a time, and above all such a place?

I shrank back into the corner of my seat perplexed and anxious--seeking eagerly but vainly for some reason for this most unexpected development. As I sat thus waiting, I saw him presently pa.s.s again, retracing his steps, and scrutinizing the carriage as closely as before. This time he came nearer to the window and tried to peer inside.

A minute afterwards I heard a name called in a brief sharp tone of authority; the footman jumped from the box and opened the door, and I squeezed myself as far from it as possible, as Count Gustav came up, his arm through that of Karl, who was very unsteady and walked with staggering lurching steps.

It was easy to see that if Karl was helpless with liquor, his brother was both pale and agitated. His face was very set; and as he approached, I noticed him glance sharply about him twice--the second time with a start of what I read to be satisfaction.

He made no attempt to enter the carriage, much to my relief: and not a word was spoken by any of us beyond a few guttural incoherencies by Karl, as with his brother's help he stumbled into the carriage and sat lolling fatuously, his breathing stertorous and heavy with the drink.

The door was slammed, the footman sprang up, and as the carriage wheeled round I saw Colonel Katona again. This time he came out of the gloom and spoke to Count Gustav.

I had no time to see more; but the list of surprises was not completed yet.

We had not driven a hundred yards before Karl sat up, seemed to shake off his stupor, and laughed lazily.

”Well, Henriette, here we are--off at last. But I wonder what in the devil's name is going to happen next?”

He was neither drunk nor drugged, then; but merely acting. I almost cried out in my astonishment and relief.

But what did it all mean?

CHAPTER XV

AN EMBARRa.s.sING DRIVE

I was so astonished at this turn of matters that I squeezed myself up into as small a s.p.a.ce as possible in the corner of the carriage, a prey to completely baffling perplexity.

The sense of shame with which I had followed his shambling, drunken movements, as he was helped into the vehicle, gave way to a feeling at first of relief, and then of pleasure--both feelings mingled with consummate dismay.

Now that he was in possession of his senses, how was I to act toward him? Under the influence of either opium or drink, he would have been easy enough to deal with; and I could have chosen my own moment to avow myself.