Part 45 (2/2)
The hard eyes of the man had grown harder, but his lips smiled, displaying the strong white teeth behind them sharply clenched.
”Yes. To the business. There is much. To-day I have arranged those things which I could arrange. It is fortunate that your father has appointed the one day which we must have chosen ourselves. It must be Sunday night. Sunday night before Von Berger reaches Dorby. Vita, it is a pleasant thought to me that I--I can defeat this man. Ever since he came to England he has treated me like a conscript. I hate him.”
Vita watching him realized the truth. It pleased and satisfied her that it was so. To her such animus between these men meant safety.
”Yes? Sunday night?”
Von Salzinger shrugged. He understood her manner.
”Listen,” he said sharply. ”On Sat.u.r.day evening at 6:30 you must be ready to get away. At that hour you must be ready, and I will provide you with a long dark cloak for travelling. We shall go by car. We dare not risk any other means. Car the whole way, and the journey must take us precisely the twenty-four hours. Now this is it. When the moment comes I will arrange that your attendants are engaged elsewhere, and that the doors of the corridor are unfastened. You will slip out and pa.s.s down the long pa.s.sage till you come to the main staircase. This you will descend, and reach the hall below. The entrance door will be open. You will pa.s.s out and down the drive. Beyond the gates a car will be standing--a cabriolet. The chauffeur will be at the wheel. Without a word you will get in the car. He will at once drive off. I shall join you at Bath, where we shall have a very late meal.”
”How will you join me?”
Von Salzinger raised his brows.
”It is simple. I am in command here. My word is absolute. Within ten minutes of your going it will be discovered. I arrange this. I shall be in a fury, I shall terrify those with me. There will be three men.
Among them Johann Stryj. I shall curse the women, and then set about running you down. Each man will be despatched in a car to certain places, in directions you have not gone. I shall pursue you alone. So I shall come up with you at Bath. Then you will continue the journey to Dorby with me. I shall time it so we reach the--the cove, eh? at half-past six on Sunday evening. We shall travel all night.”
In spite of herself excitement was growing in Vita. The prospect of the race for liberty was alluring and exciting.
”And we go straight for the Old Mill Cove?”
”It is so. This cove. Ha, it is a strange place and--secret. It is your secret and your father's. You will have to guide me.” His manner became reflective. ”We know so much of the coast, yet we missed this place. It is strange. You know it and your father, but Von Berger--no. So it was that your father escaped. It amuses me now. Still Von Berger does not know. And so we shall escape. Now write your answer to that letter. I will help. We must have no hitch, for unless we get away at that moment--disaster will follow.”
Vita had finally thrown off her uncompromising att.i.tude of coldness.
She was alive with a thrilling excitement. The man's plans were so simple and adequate. Her only fear was Von Berger's unexpected return.
She had moved to a table where writing materials lay and prepared to write her letter.
”Von Berger will not change his plans?” she demanded eagerly.
”He will not change them. He has been summoned to meet---- He is on the sea. He has gone to make his report. Now write.”
The next few minutes were occupied in the writing of Vita's reply to her father. It was practically dictated by Von Salzinger, as had been her earlier letter. He left her no choice in what she must say, and, at the conclusion of the writing, read it carefully over, and finally folded it and sealed it himself. He looked on silently while she addressed the envelope to Sir Andrew Farlow. Then he took possession of it and placed it in an inner pocket.
With the completion of the letter his manner seemed to undergo a change. The smoothness, even deferential atmosphere of the man merged into one of sharp suspicion. His brows drew together, and a quick sidelong glance flashed in the woman's direction, and a surly note sounded in his next words.
”It is a fool that can trust a woman--a woman in love. How do I know that your father will not betray me to this man, Ruxton Farlow? How do I know that you will fulfil your promise? You, a woman hating me, and in love with Farlow. I am mad, mad to risk it. You hate me--because I would save you and your father. If Farlow knew there would be no mercy for me. For you I am imperilling my life in every direction. Von Berger, and all he stands for, shadows me from behind. Before me is a man robbed of his love.”
Vita had risen from the table. She had turned to the fire and stood leaning against the great mantel.
”Your estimate of human character need not alarm you. Remember, wanton treachery is almost as rare as the highest virtues. Men and women do not betray unless they can see some gain ahead. My father needs safety and security, not only for himself but for me. I, too, want these things. Your conditions will be fulfilled to the letter because we need your aid. Will that satisfy you? Is it commercial enough? You have set the price, and I have agreed to it. Nor am I bankrupt. It is an agreement between us, and the fact that it is not set out on paper, and duly signed by witnesses, makes it surely the safer.”
The man's hard eyes were fixed steadily upon the beautiful face.
”Your tongue is bitter,” he said in a deep guttural tone.
”But no more bitter than my lot. Please go now. Human endurance has its limits. If you force me to mine I shall fling all to the four winds of heaven, and accept the fate marked out for me by the merciless tyrants who prevail at Berlin.”
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