Part 28 (1/2)

She looked long and anxiously into his face, her eyebrows drawn together in an earnest squint of uncertainty. ”Oh, Mr. King, I have had such a dreadful--dreadful time. Am I awake?”

”That's what I've been asking of myself,” he murmured. ”I guess we're both awake all right. Nightmares don't last forever.”

Her story came haltingly; he was obliged to supply many of the details by conjecture, she was so hazy and vague in her memory.

At the beginning of the narrative, however, Truxton was raised to unusual heights; he felt such a thrill of exaltation that for the moment he forgot his and her immediate peril. In a perfectly matter-of-fact manner she was informing him that her search for him had not been abandoned until Baron Dangloss received a telegram from Paris, stating that King was in a hospital there, recovering from a wound in the head.

”You can imagine what I thought when I saw you here a little while, ago,” she said, again looking hard at his face as if to make sure. ”We had looked everywhere for you. You see, I was ashamed. That man from Cook's told us that you were hurt by--by the way I treated you the day before you disappeared, and--well, he said you talked very foolishly about it.”

He drew a long breath. Somehow he was happier than he had been before.

”Hobbs is a dreadful a.s.s,” he managed to say.

It seems that the ministry was curiously disturbed by the events attending the disappearance of the Countess Ingomede. The deception practised upon John Tullis, frustrated only by the receipt of a genuine message from the Countess, was enough to convince the authorities that something serious was afoot. It may have meant no more than the a.s.sa.s.sination of Tullis at the hands of a jealous husband; or it may have been a part of the vast conspiracy which Dangloss now believed to be in progress of development.

”Development!” Truxton King had exclaimed at this point in her narrative. ”Good G.o.d, if Dangloss only knew what I know!”

There had been a second brief message from the Countess. She admitted that she was with her husband at the Axphain capital. This message came to Tullis and was to the effect that she and the Count were leaving almost immediately for a stay at Biarritz in France. ”Mr. King,” said the narrator, ”the Countess lied. They did not go to Biarritz. I am convinced now that she is in the plot with that vile old man. She may even expect to reign in Graustark some day if his plans are carried out.

I saw Count Marlanx yesterday. He was in Graustark. I knew him by the portrait that hangs in the Duke of Perse's house--the portrait that Ingomede always frowns at when I mention it to her. So, they did not go to France.”

She was becoming excited. Her eyes flashed; she spoke rapidly. On the morning of the 23d she had gone for her gallop in the famous Ganlook road, attended by two faithful grooms from the Royal stables.

”I was in for a longer ride than usual,” she said, with sudden constraint. She looked away from her eager listener. ”I was nervous and had not slept the night before. A girl never does, I suppose.”

He looked askance. ”Yes?” he queried.

She was blus.h.i.+ng, he was sure of it. ”I mean a girl is always nervous and distrait after--after she has promised, don't you see.”

”No, I don't see.”

”I had promised Count Vos Engo the night before that I--Oh, but it really has nothing to do with the story. I--”

Truxton was actually glaring at her. ”You mean that you had promised to marry Count Vos Engo!” he stammered.

”We will not discuss--”

”But did you promise to be his wife? Is he the man you love?” he insisted. She stared at him in surprise and no little resentment.

”I beg of you, Mr. King--” she began, but he interrupted her.

”Forgive me. I'm a fool. Don't mind me.” He sank back against the wall, the picture of dejection. ”It doesn't matter, anyway. I've got to die in a day or two, so what's the odds?”

”How very strangely you talk. Are you sure--I mean, do you think it is fever? One suffers so--”

He sighed deeply. ”Well, that's over! Whew! It was a dream, by Jove!”

”I don't understand.”

”Please go on.”

She waited a moment and then, looking down, said very gently: ”I'm so sorry for you.” He laughed, for he thought she pitied him because he had awakened from the dream.

Then she resumed her story, not to be interrupted again. He seemed to have lost all interest.