She Painted her Face (16 page)

Then:

The explanation." said Virgil, "was always perfectly clear Bureau was strange to the house and mistook his room."

That— that's right." said the Count, somehow

The Duchess surveyed them in turn.

Then:

"Quite so." she said grimly. "In fact, what I don't understand is why the Lady Caroline wasn't put into the street. I mean, you were three to one— three swine to one pearl. Uncle and nephew and nephew's paying guest— and she was only the daughter of this distinguished house."

If the words were savage, Old Harry lent them the harshness of frozen iron. The winter wind whistled in her accents her tongue was a sharp sword; and I was not surprised to see the Count cower before them and actually put up a hand, as a man who will ward off a blow. And though Virgil sat still as death, for the first time I saw the glint of fear in his eyes. And I did not find that surprising, for the Duchess had made it quite plain that she owed the Count no duty because he was not her host.

Some sweet was served— in audience which nobody cared to break.

Then Old Harry spoke in German.

"John Herrick, relieve the tension. You know how to tell a good tale."

"MADAM," said Herrick, "command me." He put a hand to his head. "A few minutes ago the conversation turned upon remembrance— a precious faculty By that my story shall hang "

"Here I should say that Herrick's story was heard by every soul in that room, for the Duchess had taken her spoon, yet did not begin to eat; and while we at table sat waiting for her to begin, the servants had nothing to do because the course had been served!

"There was once an English vicar, a very forgetful man. Now, all of us sometimes forget. I forgot my pistol on Friday afternoon. But he was much worse than that. He would set forth to keep an engagement and, while he was on his way, forget why he had gone out. He would frequently enter a shop and, ere he was served, forget what he came in to buy— And sometimes in winter, when the heaven was dark and he was rising early, as parsons do, he forgot he was getting up, but supposed he was going to bed, took off the clothes which he had that moment put on and then retired, as though it were night and not day.

"But, with it all, he was so gentle and charming and had a nature so sweet that his flock forgave his failing with ready hearts, smiled at ms errors, and said it was 'Parson's way.'

"Well, one beautiful summer morning he could not resist the call of the countryside, and, after his early breakfast, he set out afoot to prove the lively beauty he loved so well and draw from it a sermon such as no books could give. For the following day was Sunday. As though upon air he roamed for mile upon mile, and his heart was lifted up, because he had eyes to see and ears to hear. For him, the praise of larks fell down from heaven, the flower starred fields were living tapestry brooks ran with precious magic and the greenwood was a shining chapter out of the Book of Dreams. Of course, he forgot all else; and of I such was his communion that he forgot all time. In fact, it was past two o'clock, and he had covered the best part of fifteen miles when he climbed a stile in a hedgerow, to find a man in the road, with a watch in his hand. And the man was watching a chauffeur changing a tyre— or, rather, trying to change it, for the car had detachable rims and because of the heat of the day the metal had expanded and the rim had seized on to the wheel.

"At once the Vicar perceived the state of the case. The man, who was wearing full dress, was clearly due at some function, for which he feared to be late; the chauffeur was needing assistance to pull off the rim but the other dared not give it because of his clothes.

"Without so much as a word, the Vicar went down on his knees in the dusty road— not to pray, but to add his strength to that of a fellow man. And after a moment or two, before their united endeavours, the rim gave, way. The rest, of course, was easy, but the Vicar continued to help till the work was done. Then at last he straightened his back, to find the other beside him, silk hat in hand.

"Sir, said the man, 'I never can thank you enough. And since you have done me a service which I can never repay. I beg you will do me the honour to be my guest. I am to be married this day at half-past two, and I should not now be happy if you were not there.'

"My very good friend," said the Vicar, Inspecting his state, 'you know very well that I am not fit to appear.'

"This was true; he was not even wearing clerical dress.

" 'Whose fault is that?' said the other and ushered him into his car

"Now though for the moment he did not know where he was, so soon as they moved the Vicar got his bearings only to find that they were approaching the village of which he was priest At the sight of the distant spire his memory suddenly stirred

" 'Dear, dear.' ne cried, 'I'd forgotten. I shan't be able to come. You must set me down at that village I've got a wedding myself.'

" 'At that village?' cried the other. 'But that is where I'm to be married in ten minutes' time.'

"The Vicar smiled his rare smile.

" 'Make it twenty, my friend,' he said gently 'You must give me time to change. "So they brought one another to church— the priest and the groom, for had they not met as they did, neither the one nor the other could have arrived."

There was a moment's silence.

Then the Duchess of Whelp shook her head.

"Too good to be true," she said, "as I'll lay the Count will agree."

"Madam.'' said the Count, "I am with you— And who ever heard of—"

"Great Scott!" cried Herrick, and started up to his feet.

His eyes were upon the Count, and the Count was staring back, with the eyes of a beast at bay.

So for a long moment.

"What then?" said Old Harry sharply

Herrick put a hand to his head.

"But he's denied it," he cried, and looked dazedly round. "And I was there— at the wedding. I saw them arrive."

"What of that?" said the Duchess. "He wasn't."

His eyes again fast on the Count :

"By Heaven," said Herrick. "I don't believe that he was. And yet the bridegroom's name was Rudolf of Brief."

TWO HOURS had gone by and Winter was telling his tale. This in Herrick's room, the middle room of the tower. (This had not been a bedroom the week before, but now it was changed.)

"The first thing I knew, sir, a servant come running in to say his lordship had fainted and his valet was wanted at once. Well, that told me you were off, and very soon after, Bertram the steward comes in, as white as a sheet. He asks the older servants to come to his room, an' when he was gone a footman begins to talk. I couldn't get all he said, but I made out her Grace an' Mr. Herrick 'ad put it across the Count. There's a chauffeur there speaks some English and so I got on to him. 'What's the trouble?' I says. 'What's anyone done?' An' then he starts off.

"They've got this much clear, sir that there was another brother, an' he was a twin; that 'er Grace and Mr. Herrick keeps on referring to him; that his lordship keeps getting caught out, because he don't seem to see that they're mixing him up with his brother in all they say. But they can't understand why his lordship is so much upset. 'Why can't he see?' they keep asking. 'Why don't he tell them they're mixin' him up with his twin?' Of course, the steward's got it— you ought to have seen his face. But, of course, they all know there's something wrong, an' they all think her Grace has come here to put it right. It seems she said something like that. And they've got Mr. Herrick's story about the forgetful priest, but they think that when he said, 'Rudolf,' he must have meant 'Ferdinand.' "

"Oh, give me strength,' said Herrick, and threw up his hands.

"If I may say so, sir, you 'aven't no call to complain. They've got the truth in their hands, but except for the steward they're holding it upside down."

"And what will happen," said Herrick, "if ever they turn it round?"

"Shocked to death, sir," said Winter, "if you ask me. I think they'll walk out on him, sir, from bottom to top. They're a very 'ouse-proud lot. An' another thing— in their eyes her Grace can't do no wrong."

There was a little silence.

It was clear that we had won the first round, and won it well. It was also clear that Old Harry was going for a knock-out, because the pace she had set could not possibly last; for one thing only, her threat to produce poor Gering was one which she could not fulfil. And, again, it was clear that Old Harry's judgment was good, because a win on points would be useless to us. The Count of Brief had to be floored— or be made to throw in the towel. But if he contrived to stand up for the first few rounds, the man was safe.

Now, had he known it, the man had nothing to fear, because his brother was dead. Old Harry had seen that at once. Only the production of Gering could send him down. But fear of the production of Gering, reinforced by a taste of the exposure which Gering's production must bring, might make the man throw up the sponge. That, then, was Old Harry's line, and it cannot, I think, be denied that she had begun very well indeed badly rattled. But I could not lose sight of one thing. And that was that he had a second who knew no law.

Indeed, this was how I saw it that the Duchess of Whelp was fighting the Count of Brief, because the fall of the Count would set Caroline up; but Virgil was fighting his cousin, because, if he brought her down, the fall of the Count would not matter, because he— Percy Virgil— would then be bound to succeed.

"Well, well!" said Herrick. "And who ever heard of two guests abusing their host at table until he's carried away and then getting down to his brandy and having a rubber of bridge? You know it's blasphemous. I don't believe the Borgias ever did that And I'll lay it Percy’s got earache. 'Three swine to one pearl.' "

I forget what answer I made, but I know I sent Winter to bed and. after two or three minutes, went up to my room But not to sleep; for the "pearl" was out of my sight

I had seen her into her suite

THE Count was twenty minutes before. I trusted to see her come out in a little less than eight hours. But I had no faith in Elsa, and— Virgil had his back to the wall. Had there been but one door to her suite I would have slept across it. and let the world believe me another Porus Bureau. But there were four doors to her suite, and one was outside. I could not so much as watch them; Argus himself could have watched but one at a time.

I took off my coat and lighted a cigarette.

As I threw the match out of the window somebody knocked at my door.

I was at the oak in a flash, to find Winter standing without with a key in his hand.

"I forgot to tell you, sir." He entered and shut the door. "You gave me this key and told me to lock up the Rolls. Her doors, I mean. But I 'aven't been able to, because this isn't the key."

"Isn't the key?" I said, frowning, and took it out of his hand.

"It isn't, indeed, sir. I tried it again and again.' '

"But—"

And there I stopped dead-with my eyes on the key I was holding between my finger and thumb.

Winter was right. This was not the key of the Rolls. Although she did not know it. Caroline Virgil had the key of the Rolls. I handed it to her on Friday with the rest of her things. It was now, perhaps, under her pillow. But this was her master key— that fitted all five of her locks. Whilst I changed I gave Winter his orders. These were, in short, to pass the night on the landing watching the door which gave to Caroline's suite.

"If anyone tries to enter, put your torch on his face and hold him up. The door may be opened for him; but I don't like Elsa's face, and he's not to go in. When you've got him, lift up your voice and shout my name, and I'll be with you before you know where you are. I shall be in the staircase— turret, watching the other door of her ladyship's rooms."

"And if you want me, sir?" said Winter.

"I'll call her ladyship. She'll let you through her suite and on to the stair. I don't think anything will happen, and, but for Elsa, I'd tell you to go to bed. But it's thanks to me that she is inside that suite, so it's up to me to see that she does no harm."

I remembered Elgar, the man for whom Virgil had called when we had escaped from the tower. I had learned from Caroline that he was Virgil's chauffeur, and was as much trusted by his master as he was distrusted by everyone else at Brief.

But when I mentioned his name:

"He's away just now," said Winter, "with Mr. Virgil's car. There's a knock in the engine or something they can't get right."

"So much the better," said I, and spoke as I thought.

And that, I think, shows how ill equipped I was to deal with a man of Virgil's capacity, for I should at once have suspected the absence of his chauffeur and car. But I am ashamed to say that it did not occur to me that, if there is work of a certain kind to be done, the lugger will take an offing instead of staying in port. Be that as it may, I read the danger signal as being a piece of good news, then I took up my pistol and torch and we left the tower.

To post Winter took but a moment, and then I was treading the steps down which I had knocked the servant six days before. My shoes were rubber-soled and I made no sound, but, as I have said before, the well of the staircase was lit, and the first floor, to which I was going, was very much better illumined than was the landing above. Still, there were shadows enough, and I kept to them.

As luck would have it, I knew the whole of my way. I was not going down to the hall: I was bound for the picture gallery where we had gathered that evening before dinner was served. This lay upon the first floor— a fine, long room, and Its range of windows was broken into three bays by two of the staircase-turrets with which the castle was served. And the first of these, I knew, was Caroline's own— I had seen her come out of its door at a quarter-past eight.

Using the greatest caution, I left the magnificent staircase and stole to the gallery's doors. Happily, these were open, but here the darkness was thick, so I put to the doors behind me and drew my torch. And there my luck went out, for the torch was dead.

Now I could, of course, have gone back; but, since Winter needed his torch, it meant going back or sending him back to my room; so I made up my mind to go on, because, though I should have liked it, I could tread upon Virgil's toes without seeing his face