Books: The Puppet Crown
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Harold MacGrath >> The Puppet Crown
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"It is true that you are alone with me," in a voice, which,
though it did not alarm Maurice, caused him to rest less
comfortably in his chair. "In the first place, you know too much."
"The knowledge was not of my own seeking. You will agree with me
in that." He took a swallow of the cognac. "However, since I am
in the affair--"
"Well?"
"I'll see it to its end."
"Perhaps. We shall not cross purposes. When men plot as I do,
they stop at nothing, not even at that infinitesimal minutiae
called the spark of life. It becomes a matter of self-
preservation. I am in too deep water; I must keep on. I can not
now turn back; the first shore is too far away."
"Even villainy has its inconveniences," Maurice observed.
"What do you call villainy?"
"An act in which a man accepts pay from one to ruin him for
another. That is villainy, without a single saving grace, for
you are a native neither of the kingdom nor the duchy."
"That is plain language. You do not take into consideration the
villain's motives. There may be certain ends necessary as his
life's blood, which may be gained only by villainy, which, after
all, is a hard name for political conspiracy."
"Oh, I do not suppose you are worse than the majority. But it
appeals to me as rather a small, unmanly game when your victims
are a man who is dying and a girl who knows nothing of the world
nor its treachery."
An almost imperceptible smile passed over Beauvais's countenance.
"So her Highness has captured your sympathies?" with a shade of
banter.
"I admit that; she would capture the sympathies of any man who
has a good pair of eyes in his head. But you do not seem to be
in favor just at present," banter for banter.
The Colonel studied the end of his cigar. "What is to be your
stand in this affair?"
"Neutral as possible, for the simple reason that I have passed
my word to Madame; compulsorily, it is true; I shall abide by it.
That is not to say that my sympathies are not wholly with the
Osians. Madame is a brilliant woman, resourceful, initiative;
she has as many sides as a cut diamond; moreover, her cause is
just. But I do not like the way she has gone about the recovery
of her throne. She has broken, or will break, a fine honest
heart; she tried to break another, but, not being above the
pantry maid, the subject of her attention failed to appreciate
the consideration."
Beauvais laughed at this. "You are very good company. Let me
advise you to remain neutral. I wish you no harm. But if you
change your mind and stand in my path--"
"Well, and if I stood in your path?"
"Pouf! you would vanish. O, I should not stoop to murder; that
is a vulgar word and practice. I should place a sword in your
hand and give you the preference of a gentleman's death. I see
nothing to prevent me from carrying out that this very night,"
with a nod toward the rapiers which hung from the opposite wall.
"You might be surprised at the result," said Maurice, stretching
his legs. "But at present I have no desire to quarrel with you,
or to put your skill to a test. Once Madame gives me back my
word, why, I do not say." He dipped his hand toward the ash-pan.
"Human nature is full of freaks. A man will commit all sorts of
crimes, yet stand by his word. Not that I have committed any
crimes against the ten commandments."
And so they fenced.
"You picked up a rose to-night," said the Colonel.
"So I did." Maurice blew a puff of smoke into the chimneyplace
and watched it sail upward and vanish. "Moreover, I propose to
keep it. Have you any objections?"
"Only this: her Highness intended the rose for me."
"No, no, my friend," easily. "She would not have laughed had you
picked it up."
"That is to say I lie?"
"It is," laconically.
There was no eluding a statement so bald as this. Beauvais sat
upright. "To call me a liar is a privilege which I extend to no
man."
"I did not call you a liar," undisturbed. "You wrote it down
yourself, and I simply agreed to it. A duel? Well, I shall not
fight you. Dueling is obsolete, and it never demonstrated the
right or wrong of a cause. Since my part in this affair is one of
neutrality, and since to gain that knowledge was the object of
your invitation, I will take my leave of you."
He rose and looked at the porcelain clock. As he did so his gaze
rested on a small photograph standing at the side of it. He
scanned it eagerly. It was a face of dark Castilian beauty. He
turned and looked at Beauvais long and earnestly. There was an
answering gaze, an immobility of countenance. Maurice experienced
a slight shock. The haze over his memory was dispersed. The whole
scene, in which this man loomed in the foreground, came back
vividly.
"Your stare, Monsieur, is annoying."
"I shouldn't wonder," replied Maurice, leaning against the
mantel.
"Do me the honor to explain it."
Maurice, never dreaming of the trap, fell head foremost into it.
"I have traveled a good deal," he began. "I have been--even to
South America."
"Ah!" This ejaculation expressed nothing. In fact, Beavais was
smiling. There was a sinister something behind that smile, but
Maurice was unobservant.
He went on. "Yes, to South America. I was there in a diplomatic
capacity, during one of the many revolutions. This country was
the paradise of adventurers, the riff-raff of continental social
outcasts. I distinctly remember the leader of this revolution. Up
to the very last day, Captain Urquijo was the confidential friend
of the president whom he was about to ruin. Through the
president's beautiful daughter Urquijo picked up his threads and
laid his powder train. The woman loved him as women sometimes
love rascals. The president was to be assassinated and his rival
installed. Captain Urquijo was to be made General of the armies.
"One fine day the troops lined both sides of the plaza, the
square also about which lay the government buildings. It was the
event of some celebration; I believe the throwning off of the
yoke of Spain. The city flocked into the plaza. Strangely enough,
those who were disaffected--the soldiers under Urquijo--faced the
loyal troops. By a preconceived plan, the artillery was under the
command of Urquijo. Suddenly this Captain's murderous and
traitorous guns swept the plaza, mangling women and children.
There was a flaw, however, in the stroke. Urquijo fled, a reward
posted for his head--mind you, his head; they did not want him
alive.
"The daughter expiates her foolish love in a convent. Her
disgraces proved too much for her father, who blew out his
brains. The successor secured extradition papers in all the
leading capitals of the world. The story was the sensation of the
day; the newspapers made much of it. All governments offered to
assist the republic in hounding down this rascal. To whatever
country he belonged, that country promised to disown him." _ .
Maurice took the photograph. and cast it into Beauvais's lap. "Do
you recognize that face? Is it not a mute accusation to your
warped conscience?" The voice, changing from the monotone of
narrative, grew strong and contemptuous. "I know you. I
recognizcd you the moment I laid eyes on you, only I could not
place you. Perhaps it was because it did not seem possible that
you would dare show your face to civilized people. That
photograph has done its work. By the Lord, but you're a fine
rascal! Not a bit changed. Have you forgotten your Spanish? As
God hears me, I shall hold you up."
"You are a very young man," said Beauvais, rising. He was still
smiling. "Do you know why I asked you here? For this very reason.
Madame divined you well. She said that you had a dash of what
romanticists call valor, but that you never saw an inch before
your nose. I knew that you would be at the archbishop's; I knew
that you would follow me to this room. Indeed, you might have
suspected as much by the unusual arrangement of the fixtures of
the room. I placed that photograph there, trusting to your rather
acute eyesight.
"My memory seems to be better than yours. I knew you the first
time I saw you in Bleiborg. I was waiting only to see how much
you had remembered. I am not Colonel Beauvais; I am not
Urquijo; I am the last of a noble Austrian house, in exile, but
on the eve of recall. Your knowledge would, of course, be
disastrous to my ambitions. That is why I wanted to find out how
much you know. You know too much, too much by half; and since you
have walked into the lion's den, you shall never leave it alive."
With this he sprang to the wall and tore down the rapiers, one of
which he flung at Maurice's feet.
Maurice felt the hand of paralysis on his nerves. He looked at
the rapier, then at Beauvais, dazed and incapable of movement.
It had been so sudden.
"And when they find you in some alley in the lower town they will
put it down to thieves. You are young and thoughtless," Beauvais
went on banteringly. "A little discretion and you might have gone
with a whole skin. We never forget a woman's face, and I knew
that you would not forget hers. Don't trouble yourself about
leaping through the windows; the fall will kill you less
effectually than I shall."
Maurice pulled himself together. The prospect of death brought
back lucidity of mind. He at once saw the hopelessness of his
position. He cursed his lack of forethought. He became pale and
furious, but his head cleared. His life hung in the balance. He
now translated Beauvais's smile.
"So you wish to add another to the list?" he said.
"To shield one crime, a man must commit many others. O, this will
not be murder. It will be a duel, in which you will have no
chance. Pick up the sword, if only for form's sake." Beauvais
caught the wrist thong of the rapier between his teeth and
rapidly divested himself of his jacket and saber straps. With his
back toward the door, he rolled up his sleeve and discovered a
formidable forearm. He tried the blade and thrust several times
into the air.
"What promise have I," said Maurice, "that you will not run me
through when I stoop for the sword?" This question did not serve.
Beauvais laughed. "I never get angry in moments like these. I am
giving you a sword to ease my conscience. I do not assassinate
boys."
"But supposing I should kill you by chance?"
Beauvais laughed again. "That is not possible."
Maurice had faced death before, but with more confidence. The
thought that he had poked his head into a trap stirred him
disagreeably. He saw that Beauvais possessed a superabundance of
confidence, and confidence is half of any battle. He picked up
the sword and held it between his knees, while he threw off his
coat and vest, and unbuttoned his collar and cuffs. What he had
to sell would be sold as dearly as possible. He tested the blade,
took in a deep breath, fell easily into position--and waited.
CHAPTER XVII.
SOME PASSAGES AT ARMS
There comes a moment to every man, who faces an imminent danger,
when the mental vision expands and he sees beyond. By this
transient gift of prescience he knows what the end will be,
whether he is to live or die. As Maurice looked into the
merciless eyes of his enemy, a dim knowledge came to him that
this was to be an event and not a catastrophe, a fragment of a
picture yet to be fully drawn. His confidence and courage
returned. He thanked God, however, that the light above equalized
their positions, and that the shadows were behind them.
The swords came together with a click light but ominous.
Immediately Beauvais stepped back, suddenly threw forward his
body, and delivered three rapid thrusts. Maurice met them firmly,
giving none.
"Ah!" cried Beauvais; "that is good. You know a little. There
will be sport, besides."
Maurice shut his lips the tighter, and worked purely on the
defensive. His fencing master had taught him two things, silence
and watchfulness. While Beauvais made use of his forearm, Maurice
as yet depended solely on his wrist. Once they came together,
guard to guard, neither daring to break away until by mutual
agreement, spoken only by the eyes, both leaped backward out of
reach. There was no sound save the quick light stamp of feet and
the angry murmur of steel scraping against steel. Sometimes they
moved circlewise, with free blades, waiting and watching. Up
to now Beauvais's play had been by the book, so to speak, and
he began to see that his opponent was well read.
"Which side is the pretty rose?" seeking to distract Maurice.
"Tell me, and I will pin it to you."
Not a muscle moved in Maurice's face.
"It is too, bad," went on Beauvais, "that her Highness finds a
lover only to lose him. You fool! I read your eyes when you
picked up that rose. Princesses are not for such as you. I will
find her a lover, it will be neither you nor Prince
Frederick--ah! you caught that nicely. But you depend too much on
the wrist. Presently it will tire; and then--pouf!"
Now and then a a flame, darting from the grate, sparkled on the
polished steel, and from the steel it shot into the watchful
eyes. A quarter of an hour passed; still Maurice remained on the
defensive. At first Beauvais misunderstood the reason, and
thought Maurice did not dare run the risk of passing from
defensive to offensive. But by and by the froth of impatience
crept into his veins. He could not penetrate above or below that
defense. The man before him was of marble, with a wrist of iron;
he neither smiled nor spoke, there was no sign of life at all,
except in the agile legs, the wrist, and eyes. The Colonel
decided to change his tactics.
"When I have killed you," he said, "I shall search your pockets,
for I know that you lie when you say that you have not those
certificates. Madame was a fool to send you. No man lives who may
be trusted. And what is your game? Save the Osians? Small good it
will do you. Her Highness will wed Prince Frederick--mayhap--and
all you will get is cold thanks. And in such an event, have you
reckoned on Madame the duchess? War! And who will win? Madame;
for she has not only her own army, but mine. Come, come! Speak,
for when you leave this room your voice will be silent. Make use
of the gift, since it is about to leave you."
The reply was a sudden straightening of the arm. The blade
slipped in between the Colonel's forearm and body, and was out
again before the soldier fully comprehended what had happened.
Maurice permitted a cold smile to soften the rigidity of his
face. Beauvais saw the smile, and read it. The thrust had been
rendered harmless intentionally. An inch nearer, and he had been
a dead man. To accomplish such a delicate piece of sword play
required nothing short of mastery. Beauvais experienced a
disagreeable chill, which was not unmixed with chagrin. The boy
had held his life in his hand, and had spared it. He set his
teeth, and let loose with a fury before which nothing could
stand; and Maurice was forced back step by step until he was
almost up with the wall.
"You damned fool!" the Colonel snarled, "you'll never get that
chance again."
For the next few minutes it took all the splendid defense Maurice
possessed to keep the spark in his body. The Colonel's sword was
no longer a sword, it was a flame; which circled, darted, hissed
and writhed. Twice Maurice felt the bite of it, once in the arm
and again in the thigh. These were not deep, but they told him
that the end was but a short way off. He had no match for this
brilliant assault. Something must be done, and that at once. He
did not desire the Colonel's death, and the possibility of
accomplishing this was now extremely doubtful. But he wanted to
live. Life was just beginning--the rough road had been left
behind. He was choosing between his life and the Colonel's.
Beauvais, after the fashion of the old masters, was playing for
the throat. This upward thrusting, when continuous, is difficult
to meet, and Maurice saw that sooner or later the blade would
reach home. If not sudden death, it meant speechlessness, and
death as a finality. Then the voice of his guardian angel spoke.
"I do not wish your life," he said, breaking the silence, "but at
the same time I wish to live--ah!" Maurice leaped back just in
time. As it was, the point of his enemy's blade scratched his
chin.
They broke and circled. The Colonel feinted. Maurice, with his
elbow against his side and his forearm extended, waited. Again
the Colonel lunged for the throat. This time, instead of meeting
it in tierce, Maurice threw his whole force forward in such a
manner as to bring the steel guard of his rapier full on the
Colonel's point. There was a ringing sound of snapping steel, and
the Colonel stood with nothing but a stump in his grasp.
"There you are," said Maurice, a heat-flash passing over him. Had
he swerved a hair's breadth from the line, time would have tacked
finis to the tale. "Now, I am perfectly willing to talk," putting
his point to the Colonel's breast. "It would inconvenience me to
kill you, but do not count too much on that."
"Damn you!" cried the Colonel, giving way, his face yellow with
rage, chagrin and fear. "Kill me, for I swear to God that one or
the other of us must die! Damn you and your meddling nose!"
"Damn away, chevalier d'industrie; damn away. But live, live,
live! That will be the keenest punishment. Live! O, my brave
killer of boys, you thought to play with me as a cat with a
mouse, eh? Eh, Captain Urquijo-Beauvais-and-What-is-your-name?"
He pressed the point here, there, everywhere. "You were too
confident. Pardon me if I appear to brag, but I have taken
lessons of the best fencing masters in Europe, and three times,
while you devoted your talents to monologues, I could have pinned
you like one of those butterflies on the wall there. Have you
ever heard of the sword of Damocles? Well, well; it hangs over
many a head to-day. I will be yours. I give you forty-eight hours
to arrange your personal affairs. If after that time you are
still in this part of the country, I shall inform the proper
authorities in Vienna. The republic has representation there. Of
a noble Austrian house, on the eve of recall? I think not."
Beauvais made a desperate attempt to clutch the blade in his
hands.
"No, no!" laughed Maurice, making rapid prods which caused
Beauvais to wince. "Now, back; farther, farther. I do not like
the idea of having my back to the door."
Beauvais suddenly wheeled and dashed for the mantel. But as he
endeavored to lay hand on the revolver Maurice brought down
the blade on the Colonel's knuckles, leaving a livid welt.
Maurice took possession of the weapon, while a grimace of
agony shot over the Colonel's face. Seeing that the chambers
were loaded, Maurice threw down the sword.
"Well, well!" he said, cocking the weapon. "And I saw it when I
entered the room. It would have saved a good deal of trouble."
Beauvais grew white. "O," Maurice continued, "I am not going to
shoot you. I wish merely to call your valet." He aimed at the
grate and pressed the trigger, and the report, vibrating within
the four walls, was deafening.
A moment passed, and the valet, with bulging eyes and
blanched face, peered in. Seeing how matters stood, he made as
though to retreat.
Maurice leveled the smoking revolver. "Come in, Francois; your
master will have need of you."
Francois complied, vertigo in his limbs. "My God!" he cried,
wringing his hands.
"Your master tried to murder me," said Maurice. Francois had
heard voices like this before, and it conveyed to him that a fine
quality of anger lay close to the surface. "Take down yonder
window curtain cord." Francois did so. "Now bind your master's
hands with it."
"Francois," cried the Colonel, "if you so much as lay a finger on
me, I'll kill you."
"Francois, I will kill you if you don't," said Maurice.
"My God!" wailed the valet at loss which to obey when to obey
either meant death. His teeth chattered.
"You may have all the time you want, Francois, to wring your
hands when I am gone. Come; to work. Colonel, submit. I'm in a
hurry and have no time to spare. While I do not desire to kill
you, self-preservation will force me to put a bullet into your
hide, which will make you an inmate of the city hospital. Bind
his hands behind his back, and no more nonsense."
"Monsieur," appealingly to Beauvais, "my God, I am forced. He
will kill me!"
"So will I," grimly; "by God, I will!" Beauvais had a plan. If he
could keep Maurice long enough, help might arrive. And he had an
excellent story to tell. Still Francois doddered. With his eye on
the Colonel and the revolver sighted, Maurice picked up the
sword. He gave Francois a vigorous prod. Francois needed no
further inducement. He started forward with alacrity. In the wink
of an eye he threw the cord around Beauvais's arms and pinned
them to his sides. Beauvais swore, but the valet was strong in
his fright. He struggled and wound and knotted and tied,
murmuring his pitiful "Mon Dieu!" the while, till the Colonel was
the central figure of a Gordian knot.
"That will do," said Maurice. "Now, Francois, good and faithful
servant, take your master over to the lounge, and sit down beside
him until I get into my clothes. Yes; that's it." He shoved his
collar and tie into a pocket, slipped on his vest and coat, put
on his hat and slung his topcoat over his arm. During these
maneuvers the revolver remained conspicuously in sight. "Now,
Francois, lead the way to the street door. By the time you return
to your illustrious master, who is the prince or duke of
something or other, pursuit will be out of the question. Now, as
for you," turning to Beauvais, "the forty-eight hours hold good.
During that time I shall go armed. Forty-eight hours from now I
shall inform the authorities at the nearest consulate. If they
catch you, that's your affair. Off we go, Francois."
"By God!--" began Beauvais, struggling to his feet.
"Come so far as this door," warned Maurice, "and, bound or not,
I'll knock you down. Hang you! Do you think my temper will
improve in your immediate vicinity? Do you think for a moment
that I do not lust for your blood as heartily as you lust for
mine? Go to the devil your own way; you'll go fast enough!" He
caught Francois by the shoulders and pushed him into the hall,
followed, and closed the door. Francois had been graduated from
the stables, therefore his courage never rose to sublime heights.
All the way down the stairs he lamented; and each time he turned
his head and saw the glitter of the revolver barrel he choked
with terror.
"If you do not kill me, Monsieur, he will; he will, I know he
will! My God, how did it happen? He will kill me!" and the voice
sank into a muffled sob.
Despite the gravity of the situation, Maurice could not repress
his laughter. "He will not harm you; he threatened you merely to
delay me. Open the door." He stepped out into the refreshing air.
"By the way, tell your master not to go to the trouble of having
me arrested, for the first thing in the morning I shall place a
sealed packet in the hands of the British minister, to be opened
if I do not call for it within twenty-four hours. And say to your
master that I shall keep the rose."
"Mon Dieu! A woman! I might have known!" ejaculated Francois, as
the door banged in his face.
Maurice, on reaching the pavement, took to his legs, for he saw
three men rapidly approaching. Perhaps they had heard the pistol
shot. He concluded not to wait to learn. He continued his rush
till he gained his room. It was two o'clock. He had been in the
Colonel's room nearly three hours. It seemed only so many
minutes. He hunted for his brandy, found it and swallowed several
mouthfuls. Then he dropped into a chair from sheer exhaustion.
Reaction laid hold of him. His hands shook, his legs trembled,
and perspiration rolled down his cheek.
"By George!" This exclamation stood alone, but it was an
Odyssey. He remained stupefied, staring at his shoes, over
which his stockings had fallen. His shirt buttons were gone, and
the bosom was guiltless of its former immaculateness. After a
time he became conscious of a burning pain in the elbow of his
right arm. He glanced down at his hand, to find it covered with
drying blood. He jumped up and cast about his clothes. One leg
of his trousers was soaked, and the dull ache in his thigh told
the cause. He salved the wounds and bound them in strips of
handkerchiefs, which he held in place by using some of the
cast-off cravats.
"That was about as close to death as a man can get and pull out.
I feel as if I had swallowed that cursed blade of his. I am an
ass, sure enough. I've always a bad cold when there's a rat
about; can't smell him. And the rascal remembered me! Will he
stay in spite of my threat? I'll hang on here till to-morrow. If
he stays--I won't. He has the devil's own of a sword. Hang it, my
nerves are all gone to smash."
Soon some gentler thought took hold, and he smiled tenderly. He
brought forth the rose, turned it this way and that, studied it,
stroked it, held it to his lips as a lover holds the hand of the
woman he loves. Her rose; somehow his heart told him that she had
laughed because Beauvais had stooped in vain.
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