Part 33 (1/2)

”I did not bring you here to smoke,” Count Michael said acidly. ”I brought you here to interrogate you. Remember that.”

”I have been without a decent smoke for nearly two weeks,” Trent returned. ”And I want one. Unless I have some I shall not answer any one of your interrogations. Think it over, count.”

Hentzi looked at the American reproachfully. He had supplied his prisoner with the best of tobacco. That he had done so surrept.i.tiously robbed him of the privilege of recrimination. The two guards not understanding a word of the conversation could not deny Trent's statements.

Count Michael Temesvar looked closely at his former chauffeur. He was standing on the rich red rug between the two windows. He was biting his lips; his face twitched and his fingers worked nervously. It was plain that he suffered as drug takers do when deprived of their poisons.

There was a cedar lined silver box of cigarettes on the little table by Pauline's chair. This Hentzi was commanded to place before the prisoner.

Anthony Trent's symptoms were admirably a.s.sumed. He inhaled and exhaled in silent delight and his face grew more peaceful. But he was still unsettled and nervous. The count, remembering his iron-nerved driver, attributed the change as much to imprisonment and fear as to lack of tobacco. In a sense it was a tribute to his power over the man who had thwarted him. He watched Trent stride up and down by the two windows and ascribed it to a growing sense of the ordeal about to be undergone.

”I've got to keep moving,” Trent said, ”I've been tied up in a kennel for two weeks.”

”If you must I shall permit it,” the other answered. ”But I warn you that the length of this table must be your limit. Otherwise my faithful men may have to shoot. You understand?”

”Perfectly,” Trent said growing more affable. ”I even give you my _parole d'honneur_ not to go near the doors. Why rush on certain death?”

”You are growing sensible,” Count Michael said smiling. ”I knew it would come. As you say, why rush on certain death? It is foolish. More, it is unnecessary and to do so wastes one's energy. I have not yet had time to learn your name and rank but I am treating with you as an equal.”

”Thank you!” Trent retorted. ”If you call locking me up in a verminous, rat-haunted cell treating me as an equal I'm hardly grateful.”

”I dare take no risks,” the count a.s.sured him. ”You men who came here for my lord Rosecarrel are different from others. I have not forgotten that Sir Piers Edgcomb killed three of my honest lads before he died.

There are others who would have treated you less well than I. Now, where is the paper you stole from me and say you burned?”

”What is the fate of ashes tossed to the four winds?”

”It was never burned,” the other snapped. ”Somewhere it exists in your pocket where I saw you place it. Remember this before you answer. If by your aid alone I find it you may leave this castle.”

”How?” Trent demanded. ”To walk into ambush outside?”

”There will be twenty square miles of country where none dare touch you.

Do you need more than that, you, who cast aspersions on the courage of others? Is it possible you are afraid?”

”What is the other alternative?”

”To join your friends.” The count laughed cordially. The idea seemed to amuse him. ”To make the third grave. First the trainer, then the butler and last the chauffeur. I wonder what your chief will send me next.”

”He will have no need to send anyone else,” Trent said affably. By this time his nervousness had disappeared and he was cool and calm as ever.

”You mean he will give up the attempt?”

”Why should there be another when I have already succeeded?”

”This is bravado,” the count cried. It was his turn to be nervous now.

The importance he attached to the possession of the paper seemed out of all proportion to its value. Trent knew little of the great eternal European game of politics. For a few moments in Paris the New World had its glance at the complicated working but forgot it when booming trade held sway and salesmen took the place of diplomats. The elimination of the new Foreign Secretary meant a great deal to Count Michael. The other knowledge which Trent stored in his mind was equally dangerous but there were others who could attend to that. No matter what part Anthony Trent played the count had a.s.signed him the role of the defeated.

”It happens to be the truth,” Trent returned.

He could see that Pauline was now listening intently. Her pose of antagonism to the stranger was swept away by her anxiety for his safety.

Her heart thrilled to see him standing there, debonair, smiling, dominating. It seemed madness to her, this avowal of success.