Part 46 (1/2)

”That was Mayor Berg and his wife,” he said, taking off his cap again in a sort of ecstasy. ”The express stops for him, eh? Ha! It stops for no one else but our good Mayor. When he commands it to stop it stops--”

”Answer my question,” I thundered, ”or I shall report you to the Mayor!”

”Ach, Gott!” he gasped. Collecting his thoughts, he said: ”There is no train until nine o'clock in the morning. Nine, mein herr.”

”Ach, Gott!” groaned I. ”Are you sure?”

”Jah! You can go home now and go to bed, sir. There will be no train until nine and I will not be on duty then. Good night!”

Britton led me into the waiting-room, where I sat down and glared at him as if he were to blame for everything connected with our present plight.

”I daresay we'd better be starting 'ome, sir,” said he timidly.

”Something 'as gone wrong with the plans, I fear. They did not come, sir.”

”Do you think I am blind?” I roared.

”Not at all, sir,” he said in haste, taking a step or two backward.

Inquiries at the little eating-house only served to verify the report of the station-guard. There would be no train before nine o'clock, and that was a very slow one; what we would call a ”local” in the States.

Sometimes, according to the proprietress, it was so slow that it didn't get in at all. It had been known to amble in as late as one in the afternoon, but when it happened to be later than that it ceased to have an ident.i.ty of its own and came in as a part of the two o'clock train. Moreover, it carried nothing but third-cla.s.s carriages and more often than not it had as many as a dozen freight cars attached.

There was not the slightest probability that the fastidious Mrs. t.i.tus would travel by such a train, so we were forced to the conclusion that something had gone wrong with the plans. Very dismally we prepared for the long drive home. What could have happened to upset the well-arranged plan? Were Tarnowsy's spies so hot upon the trail that it was necessary for her to abandon the attempt to enter my castle? In that case, she must have sent some sort of a message to her daughter, apprising her of the unexpected change; a message which, unhappily for me, arrived after my departure. It was not likely that she would have altered her plans without letting us know, and yet I could not shake off an exasperating sense of doubt. If I were to believe all that Bangs said about the excellent lady, it would not be unlike her to do quite as she pleased in the premises without pausing to consider the comfort or the convenience of any one else interested in the undertaking. A selfish desire to spend the day in Lucerne might have overtaken her _en pa.s.sant_, and the rest of us could go hang for all that she cared about consequences!

I am ashamed to confess that the longer I considered the matter, the more plausible this view of the situation appeared to me. By the time we succeeded in starting the engine, after cranking for nearly half an hour, I was so consumed by wrath over the scurvy trick she had played upon us that I swore she should not enter my castle if I could prevent it; moreover, I would take fiendish delight in dumping her confounded luggage into the Danube.

I confided my views to Britton who was laboriously cranking the machine and telling me between grunts that the ”b.l.o.o.d.y water 'ad got into it,”

and we both resorted to painful but profound excoriations without in the least departing from our relative positions as master and man: he swore about one abomination and I another, but the gender was undeviatingly the same.

We also had trouble with the lamps.

At last we were off, Britton at the wheel. I shall not describe that diabolical trip home. It is only necessary to say that we first lost our way and went ten or twelve kilometers in the wrong direction; then we had a blow-out and no quick-detachable rim; subsequently something went wrong with the mud-caked machinery and my unfortunate valet had to lie on his back in a puddle for half an hour; eventually we sneaked into the garage with our trembling Mercedes, and quarrelled manfully with the men who had to wash her.

”Great heaven, Britton!” I groaned, stopping short in my sloshy progress down the narrow street that led to the ferry.

He looked at me in astonishment. I admit that the e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n must have sounded weak and effeminate to him after what had gone before.

”What is it, sir?” he asked, at once resuming his status as a servant after a splendid hiatus of five hours or more in which he had enjoyed all of the by-products of equality.

”p.o.o.pend.y.k.e!” I exclaimed, aghast. ”I have just thought of him. The poor devil has been waiting for us three miles up the river since midnight! What do you think of that!”

”No such luck, sir,” said he, grumpily.

”Luck! You heartless rascal! What do you mean by that?”

”I beg pardon, sir. I mean to say, he could sit in the boat 'ouse and twiddle 'is thumbs at the elements, sir. Trust Mr. p.o.o.pend.y.k.e to keep out of the rain.”

”In any event, he is still waiting there for us, wet or dry. He and the two big Schmicks.” I took a moment for thought. ”We must telephone to the castle and have Hawkes send Conrad out with word to them.” I looked at my watch. It was twenty minutes past seven. ”I suppose no one in the castle went to bed last night. Good Lord, what a scene for a farce!”

We retraced our steps to the garage, where Britton went to the telephone. I stood in the doorway of the building, staring gloomily, hollow-eyed at the--well, at nothing, now that I stop to think of it.