Part 47 (1/2)

”I speak the truth, my Lord, just as I demand to have justice done.

Not demand only, but command it shall be done--for the power to command has been put into my hands by the perfidy and wickedness of your son, Count Gustav.”

I looked for an outburst from him in response; but none came. He sat silent, the right talon still gripping the left as though he wished it were my throat.

”I do not know with what motive you came to me,” I said after a pause; ”unless it was to try and frighten me into silence. But I will deal more frankly with you than you with me. If you have come to offer me less than justice to my father's memory, we are only wasting time; and the interview, painful to both, may as well end right now.”

”I offer you that and no less,” he answered, and he loosed his wrist to wave his hand as if with a gesture of compliance.

It was my turn to be surprised now; but I was sceptical at so ready a surrender after his threats. ”That is glad news, indeed. When will the truth be made known?”

”At once. I will see that it is done. As others have done, you have misjudged me. I see that of course. I have been secretly deemed, I know, to have had some guilty connivance in the death of the young Count Stephen; and in that, have had to bear the blame for the acts of my too zealous adherents. My family profited by their rashness; and so the world held, as it will, that advantage and guilt went hand in hand.”

”I seek in that awful matter only justice for my father's memory.

Restore his good name, and who else loses or gains, is nothing to me.”

”I pledge myself as to that. The facts shall be drawn up and made public; and further, I will interest myself to secure that the t.i.tle he held, Count Melnik, shall be restored to you, together with the estate which was confiscated. Full justice shall be done.”

”Thank G.o.d for that!” I exclaimed, intensely moved.

”To-morrow, my son Gustav is to come here to you, and he shall bring with him full confirmation in writing of what I have now promised you.

On that I give you my word.”

I leant back in my chair overcome. The knowledge of what I had gained mingled with the poignant regret that my dear father had not lived to share the joy of his vindication brought the tears to my eyes. I could not speak, so mastering was the emotion.

”I will leave you now, Miss von Dreschler,” said the Duke as he rose.

”When we next meet you will be the Countess Melnik--not that I think you will value such a t.i.tle except for what it means--the full rest.i.tution of your dead father's honour.”

He held out his hand, and I rose and gave him mine in silence.

When he had gone I sank back in my chair, elation at my success still battling with that vehement but useless regret that my father had not lived to see that night; and the battle was still being waged when his Excellency entered.

I dashed away my tears.

”I have won,” I said, smiling. ”I am sure I owe it chiefly to you.

The Duke has given me a solemn promise that my father's name shall be cleared.”

I looked for a sign of congratulation; but instead, my old friend glanced at me slowly and very shrewdly, and moved on to his chair.

”You are an excellent linguist, but probably do not know the dead languages, Christabel. There is an old tag of Virgil's for instance: 'Timeo Danaos et dona ferentes'.”

”I know what that means, at any rate,” I cried. ”'I fear the Greeks even when bearing gifts.'”

He turned and looked at me again very thoughtfully. Then nodding his head he answered with slow emphasis; ”It is possible to learn the meaning of it--even in Pesth.”

”You think this is a Greek gift?”