  After an eternity I got to my feet from the doubled-up position I had fallen in. My ears were singing, and I should have felt dizzy if there had been any light. Strange how many sensations depend on light for their realisation. I stumbled against things in my path. Yet there was no sound of any sort, and I suddenly realised that I was following nothing. The figure that had struck me was gone. Only two things I was certain of—there was a secret passage, and two figures had passed me, not one. I stopped for a moment at the marble bench to recover my equilibrium. What a fool I was making of myself, to be sure, prowling around in the night like a school-boy, looking for impossible adventures. A step, quite near me, interrupted—I rose, and waited in the shadow of a tree. Stealthily the step came closer, a slinking, soft-footed step. I saw the fellow dimly outlined before me. He was a big man, bigger than I. The rose scratches stung on my face and hands. I was very quiet, and so was he. It was so dark, I could see him only indistinctly. I got ready to jump on him if he came any closer. I saw him stop, and knew he had seen me. Suddenly he had me by the shoulders, and I spun around and landed in the path. I struck back, took a blow on the face, stumbled and fell, caught at his legs, got him fairly around the knees, and with a quick jerk heaved him sideways into a dim mass of bushes on the other side of the path. I hoped they were rose bushes. I was well winded, and I knew he must be, too. I counted five slowly before I got to my feet. He was just struggling up when I reached him again. I got his neck in the crook of my elbow, and dragged him toward the castle. He was choking too much to make any outcry, and I had caught him too suddenly for him to do much else. His hands tore at my arm frantically. It was not far. As I reached the steps he got me by the ankle, and we went down in a heap, but I never let go my hold of his throat. I knew that if I lost that he would have me, since he was heavier than I. He must be got up those steps and into the light. We struggled desperately, yet, somehow, though we were both wrenching at each other, step by step we were getting up to the balcony. The man had become impossible to handle, and I should never have managed it if at the last he had not almost pushed me before him. Apparently he wanted to go into the castle as much as I. We rolled along the balustrade a few steps, and then he picked me off my feet, and ran, half dragging me with him. I kicked at him, and we fell again. In the scuffle I got away from him a step or two. The everlasting darkness was on my nerves. I wanted to see. He caught me again, before we reached the French window, hurled me through it, into the room, and against the leg of a table. I was up again almost as soon as I was down, and at him, but I did not strike. Instead, I sank back breathless on the nearest chair. The man was John. For a few moments we grunted and gurgled at each other in unison. I ached all over. My face was scratched. My knees were bleeding, my chest was constricted from the violence of my efforts John was almost as badly off. He sat opposite me, staring dazedly. “You’re a tough old nut to crack,” he said, finally, “I thought you were another of them.” “Sorry,” my words jerked out with difficulty, “one of them came out of that secret passage. I was leaning against the door, and he fell over me, and then chucked me into some rose bushes. All scratched up. I thought he was coming back. Wanted a look at him in the light.” “Same here,” he said, “what did the paper say?” “Oh, paper.” I had almost forgotten the paper. “In Alarian. Can’t read it.” “Oh, well, I was standing looking over the garden wall. I heard a noise below it, and there was a car at the foot of the cliffs. While I was standing there a man came up behind me, and hit me on the head, then he chucked me aside, and they went right past. Two of them. One had on a heavy cloak. I saw them quite definitely, though it was so dark. I’m sure of it. They went down over the wall. Must be a path. I considered trying to follow them, but decided it was too risky for any use unless I had a torch or at least some matches. They had a car down there. I heard the motor start.” I considered. “I hope Helena knows what she is about,” I said. “I feel as though I should do something, and yet—she gave me quite plainly to understand she wanted to be let alone. John! There were two men who got into that car? I’m sure there was only one who attacked me, and only one who went into the castle. Only—was the second figure a man, John?” “You mean, was the second figure a woman?” “Exactly.” “I think—perhaps—it may have been.” “Was she going willingly, John?” “Apparently. But there may have been mental compulsion as easily as physical.” “I hate to butt in,” I said, “but I think we’d better go back to Helena’s rooms, and see what we can find, don’t you?” “I do.” John was quite decided. He began dressing hurriedly. I followed suit. My joints could ache later, flapping a dressing gown around dim cold halls is undignified. “Still,” I suggested, “I’ve been turned out of Helena’s rooms once this evening. She shut the door purposefully, which was her privilege, of course. But it makes me hesitant to go back again at this hour. After all, she’s our hostess.” “She’s a woman, and alone,” John said, “and there was someone in that room. You know that. That someone may have been threatening her while she was talking to you.” “Yes.” “And she denied that anyone was there.” “She said she was not in need of protection.” “But suppose she’s been kidnapped while you hesitate to bother her?” “The man who came may very easily have been a messenger from Queen Yolanda. She was expecting news.” “Or from Conrad. She’s afraid of Conrad.” “Yes, and rightly. I shouldn’t like her if I were Conrad. After all, she has conspired to keep him off the throne.” “Exactly. He has a case against her, and he looks like the sort of person who sees things through.” “Efficiently, I should say. Yes. What do you suggest, then?” “Go back and see if she is there still, and all right. We know the man is gone, now. If she is there she will be free to explain, and I can’t see what harm we can do.” “Come with me, then,” I said, “you’re right, of course.” I knocked at the door as I had knocked the first time. There was no answer. Undoubtedly Helena had more rooms than one behind her door, as John and I had. She might be in the farthest of her suite, and could not hear our knock, but I did not believe that for a moment. For better or worse, I was sure she had gone. Nevertheless, I pounded with my fist, and added another bruise to my growing collection. Silence. At last I turned around and kicked with the heel of my shoe. If she were there she must hear that, but there was no answer. Then another problem presented itself. Helena was gone. What should we do next? Follow her in our car? Or break down the door? Or do nothing? The door was too heavy to be broken open with less than an axe. John said casually, as though he broke into ladies’ apartments every morning of his life, “perhaps her maid has a key.” He walked off down the passage. I waited quietly until he came back. I was too sore to move. He had two men with him and the maid who had worn woollen stockings under her nightgown. She seemed to be dressed in the same way still, so I decided that it was quite probably merely her usual nightly attire. One of the men carried an iron crowbar, the maid a bunch of keys. They were all talking excitedly, and when they saw me they broke out afresh. They assured me that Madame would kill them all if they opened her door. The maid was crying. No one dared disturb madame, ever. “The fact remains,” I said, “we distinctly saw a man enter and two people leave this house tonight. And there was someone in madame’s room. Now she does not answer. It must be she either is not there, or she cannot answer. It is our duty to find out.” “The gnÄdige GrÄfin,” the maid said, in her dismal voice, “knows many things of enormous importance, of which we know nothing. She has friends in high places.” “And,” John said, impressively, “she has also enemies in high places. We wish her only good. Come, open the door at once.” His tone had its effect. He held out his hand, and the maid gave him the keys, indicating a large brass one, with an ornamental handle. John turned it in the lock, and in silence flung open the door. Behind it were three rooms opening into each other. All three were quite empty. A long desk was piled neatly with papers in the study, a shawl lay where it had been dropped on the back of a chair. Bookcases lined the walls, the books soberly in their places. An American magazine lay on an easy chair by the window. We passed on to a dressing room. There, too, everything was in order, though one or two bureau drawers were open. Beyond the dressing room was the bedroom. It was like the others. A pair of satin slippers lay where they had been kicked, in the middle of the floor, otherwise nothing was disturbed. “Madame is gone!” the maid cried in wonder. “Not here!” echoed the two men. John went to the desk in the study and stood drumming his fingers on the cover of an account book. The servants waited respectfully for us to speak. The maid looked much more cheerful in the face of possible tragedy. “It may be all right,” I said, “we know that. But it also may not be.” I turned to the servants, “Have you extra petrol for our car?” I asked. “Oh, yes, gnÄdiger Herr,” they answered in chorus. We had achieved a good deal of prestige in the last few minutes. “Yes,” John said, “you’re right, Carvin. It would take them ten minutes to get down that hill and into the car. Whatever path there is isn’t visible at night, and it can’t be very good. They went not twenty minutes ago, I’m sure. They won’t have so much of a start—not more than fifteen minutes. They won’t think we are following, and I can show a bit of speed, too. Come along, hurry up. I’ll see the gas put in and get the car into the yard while you get our things. Be sure you bring me a cap and some cigarettes, and a coat—it’s cold on that Pass.” It was a quarter to five by the clock on the dash as the big gates opened for us for the second time. It had been a quarter past eight as we drove in through them. Our carefully planned visit to Helena had lasted barely nine hours. Before us our lamps cast a long white trail on the still muddy road. John stepped on the accelerator and we leaped ahead down the hill. In a moment we were going so fast that in his effort to hold the car on the winding road, he sat still and tense, moving only at the curves, and then so studiedly that he seemed almost automatic. The speedometer climbed up and up, then dropped somewhat for a sharp curve, then climbed again. We were making an almost impossible pace for so winding a road. I reflected that if another car should appear ahead of us we were unlikely ever to know it. The wreck would be so complete that it was not necessary to worry about it. It is only half wrecks that are terrifying. A neat, quick smashing is a more or less jolly end to a life that is only interesting at intervals. This happened to be very much one of the intervals, however. Certainly I didn’t want to be wrecked before we had sifted the mystery, and found Helena. As we neared the bottom of the hill, the whole valley proved to be bathed in mist thick enough to cloud the windshield, so that John was forced to lean out of the car to see the road, which was wet and a little slippery. I busied myself pushing up the glass. It was hard to manage at that pace, but I got it up just in time, for a moment after John righted himself we passed a car facing in the opposite direction, mending a tire. They seemed, in the quick glance I spared them, to have finished. A man was throwing the blown shoe into the tonneau. The whole thing flashed by so suddenly that I scarcely gave it a thought, except that as we skinned past I heard a shout that flashed by as quickly as the car from which it came. “Lucky miss, that,” John grunted. “Fools to stay so far on the road.” “It’s a lonely road. Not many cars here at any time, almost none at this time of night. I wonder if they were going to Waldek? Perhaps we should have stopped to find out. I’ve just thought of something. They aren’t going to let us through the Rheatian customs house.” “Why not? They let us through the other way.” “That was reasonable. This isn’t, and we haven’t any possible explanation that will make it sound so.” “We must overtake Helena, then,” I said, doubtfully, “before they reach the customs house.” “That’s our only chance, and we are almost there, too. It wasn’t far, you remember.” We were heading due south again, rising steadily toward the Pass. On the smooth surface of the road the kilometers were going past us two to the minute and more. I decided that the speedometer must be out of order. We couldn’t really be doing eighty, almost without fluctuation, yet as I looked out at the side, the landscape slipped by so fast I couldn’t count it. Then, as we began to climb, the indicator fell back slowly from eighty to seventy-five, to seventy, a sudden drop to sixty, stayed there for a moment, then when we climbed sharply again it went down to thirty and below. Even at thirty we had some reserve. John suddenly stepped on the gas as we rounded a curve and saw before us the low stone building that served the Rheatians for a customs house. Between it and us was no iron gate barring the way, and not more than a hundred feet to go. We zoomed forward with a fierce roar, and before I had time to realise what had happened, we were through the barrier, heading for the Alarian side of the Pass, with no chance that anyone could catch up with us before we caught up with Helena. “Great work,” I said, trying to sound casual, “but perhaps the Rheatians may not think it so funny that we did that. We’re caught neatly enough now between the two customs houses, in the bleakest bit of country I’ve ever been in. In the name of mercy why didn’t you stop?” John laughed, “She’s your cousin,” he said, “you said you wanted to follow her and I am following. If you don’t like it you should. I’ve been doing a bit of fancy driving tonight, setting a record, I’ll bet, for this stretch of road. What’s a Rheatian government to us? It was their own fault anyway, for leaving the gate open. We can just say we didn’t see it.” We seemed to be crawling, then, by contrast to our former speed. We wound around mountains, zig-zagging on the edges of precipices, coming out miles beyond on some horse shoe curve a few hundred feet away as the crow flies. The first grey light of the dawn was just showing it to us. When we had gone through the other way it had been too dark to see. Once behind us, and twice ahead of us, I saw the flash of lights, whether they were car lights or not I could not tell. They might be the signal lights of some frontier guard announcing our approach—or Helena’s. We had been driving so fast that it seemed we should have overtaken any other car if there was one. I began to doubt that they had taken the Herrovosca road at all, unless they were equalling our speed on some matter of life and death while we were left outlawed between two customs houses, chasing butterflies over deserted and eerie mountain passes. We came abruptly to a stop. Just between two high rock walls, where the road had been graded steeply, a white barricade had been placed. Our lights picked it up in time to come to a neat stop a foot or two too soon to crash. The brakes shrieked like a dog in torture. I reached for our passports. As well to put up a bluff, anyway. We might get by. We didn’t. “Damned frontier guards,” John started, and stopped. Two men in black with black masks over their unshaven faces covered us with hard-boiled modern shotguns, while two others climbed into the car. Then the two with the guns stepped on the running boards on either side, others pulled the barricade off the road far enough for our car to squeeze by, and one of the men poked his gun insinuatingly into John’s face. “They’re the funniest looking lot of frontier guards I ever saw,” I whispered, uncomfortably. “They’re bandits, dressed up like this, and a smelly crew, too,” John said, happily, “unless we’re still asleep and dreaming at Castle Waldek.” I did not resist. There were too many of them to make it feasible. When the gun came away from his face for a moment, John knocked its owner down with his fist, but all they did was tie him up tight with a rope end. I was surprised that they were so gentle. They tied our hands behind us, and bandaged our eyes with our own handkerchiefs. I wondered why men so much in need of baths themselves should have the finesse to use a gentleman’s own handkerchief to tie across his eyes. Obviously someone had told them to do it. I felt happier after I had thought that out. They pulled us out of the car, felt us over carefully for weapons, and then shoved us into the tonneau on top of all the painting stuff. It was uncomfortable, especially since we could neither see what was in our way, nor move it with our hands tied behind us. John cursed in a low but definite tone. I considered silence a little better policy, and finally wriggled myself into a position where I was almost lying down, and had slipped the handkerchief half off my eyes. I could see out on one side of the car. The stars were still visible, though the sky was beginning to lighten. We were heading south, roughly, I decided, by trying to average up our twistings. South, by south-west. That meant that we were crossing the mountain ridge as we had come, but not by the road, for we were bumping over dirt, and uneven, sloping rock, alternately. Herrovosca would have lain about due south-west, if I remembered my map correctly. Not that a map would be of any appreciable value to us in our present plight. In fact, I judged that it might easily be some little time before we should have any further use for a map. The only consolation to me was the beautiful excuse our capture made for our irregular position between the two customs houses, without benefit of stamp on our passports. That was small enough consolation, however, for the discomfort of a sharp and heavy box end that kept jouncing into my shin. I tried again and again to kick it out of the way, but without budging it. After a long time of slow and bumpy running, with the sun just beginning to show pinkly on some of the highest peaks, we came, at last, to a stop. Our guards led us out of the car and we went, since the alternative seemed to be a dozen or so holes from the business ends of their shot guns. They still were not rough with us, but they discovered my loose bandage, and tightened it firmly. Then they started us marching. We were led slowly along a rough path, a man on either side. John I could hear still cussing occasionally. He had been interrupted in what, to him, was the marathon of the century, and he was displeased. All about us rose the lovely smells of high altitude in late summer. As we climbed up—and it was always up—I began almost to hear the light, as the blind say they can hear color. I had never been able to understand that before. I had always thought they were merely trying to express some esoteric yearning after the things that were denied to them, rather than that they really felt and heard things that by us are seen only. But, blindfolded as I was, I found that they are literally right, and that our sense of seeing is so much stronger that it blinds us to the less acute sensitiveness of the other organs. Partly by hearing, partly by that sixth sense of the blind, I knew that we passed through a thriving hamlet of people, not men alone, but women and children. When at last we were stopped, I knew that we were in a large room. I was somewhat prepared when the bandages were removed, and we could look around. But I was not entirely prepared for what I saw. The room was hung with tapestries that must have been worth a fortune. The light came from a window of finely leaded glass. Before us was a work table on which were spread maps and papers, and closely typed sheets that might have been a report. It looked for all the world like the work desk of some busy army officer during the war. A few books were neatly piled at one side. A servant was placing two chairs before the desk, and a voice said in German, “Sit down, gentlemen.” But, though I saw all that, and obeyed the order to sit, and though it was all far from what I had expected to see then, I was not really interested in it. What did interest me was the man who sat behind the desk. I first saw his long white hands, thin and blue-veined. He wore a ring with an enormous ruby—the most enormous I had ever seen actually worn—a ring for a king in a play. From the slim, restless hands, that might have been the hands of a great musician, my eye followed up his figure. Black. Dull, black sleeves, with no relieving white at the wrists. He wore a sort of soutane, and across the breast was sewn a white Templar’s cross. Not only was there no white collar showing at the neck, there was no neck, either. His whole head was masked by a black silk hood, that covered his throat and face down to the shoulders, with slits for the mouth and for the eyes, which showed as black as his dress. The man might have the hands of a musician and the ring of a king, but he must be a bandit, else why the obvious disguise as the Black Ghost of the Pass? “My men have unfortunately made a mistake, gentlemen,” the man in the mask spoke suavely, in German, “I hope you understand me.” “Yes,” I answered, and then explained, hoping our nationality would prove some sort of protection, “we are Americans.” “We will talk in English, then,” he replied, which was the only effect the mention of the United States had on him. His voice reminded me vividly of the Countess Visichich’s, and I wondered if he could be a relative of hers until I decided that it was only a similar accent. “I am very sorry for this mistake,” he went on, “but I shall be obliged to keep you ’ere for a few days, probably. Otherwise you will not be inconvenienced—that is, if all is as I ’ope it is. I shall be very ’appy if you will be so kind as to answer a few questions I shall like to ask you.” “By all means,” John put in glibly. “In the first place, I should like to know where you ’ave bought your car?” Memories of those Paris driving cards flashed through my mind. “In Havre,” John said. “Here is the bill of sale, if you wish to see it.” I was glad John had decided to be pleasant to him. It was our only hope, of course. He might really intend to let us go. Quite probably they had made a mistake. I could hope they had, but in the meantime we were most certainly his prisoners, and no man wears a mask unless he does not wish to be recognised, and he does not wish to go unrecognised unless he is doing something at least outside, if not definitely opposed to the law. “’ow long ago?” “About two months.” “In ’avre, two months ago, ’m. And just where do you expect to be two months from now? I mean by that, what were your plans, for the next two months?” “I am a painter,” John said quickly. “You’ll find a lot of my kit in the car. That’s almost all there is in the tonneau. I wanted to find new things to paint. My friend here is a writer with a taste for scenery, so he came, too. He has a typewriter in with my painting stuff.” “May I see your passports?” We gave them to him. He examined them in detail, and finally nodded and laid them down on the desk. “Most orderly,” he said, bowing, “except for one thing. Your last stamp was on the Rheatian frontier yesterday, and there is also an Alarian stamp of the same day, which means that you drove yesterday across the pass into Rheatia, yet, strangely, there is no return stamp, and I do not understand ’ow that can be.” “Oh, simple enough,” John announced airily. “We had got as far as the Rheatian customs house, and had the stamp put on our passports, when we changed our minds about going into Rheatia, and started back again.” “Which, no doubt, is also supposed to account for the fact that your engine was most unusually ’ot. You passed through the Alarian customs, I ’ave been informed, at sundown yesterday, and I understand from your story that you have been driving backward and forward on the Pass ever since. A most enormous passion for scenery that leads you to feast your eyes upon it in the dark.” He was having a bit of fun with us, but John went on blandly, “Oh, yes, that motor always heats up.” The Black Mask laughed aloud, and John grinned and shrugged his shoulders. “As a matter of fact,” he acknowledged a little sheepishly, “I was driving fast. I like to drive fast. That’s why we drive at night. It’s the only time to be sure of having a clear road.” The Black Mask laughed again. “That is such a good answer,” he said, gently, “that I shall ’ave to remember it for some time when I may be asked such a question. ’owever, I am in great need of information at the moment, so that even my appreciation of your ingenuity must not interfere with it. Either you were running away from something, or seeking something. Now, gentlemen, which was it?” We were both silent, each hoping the other would think of something to say. Neither of us did. “Really not such a difficult question,” the Black Ghost went on, smoothly. “You might ’ave been following something, but there was nothing on the road a’ead of you. Ah, I see, you thought you were following something.” He had been looking directly at John, and even I saw John’s surprise, though he tried to hide it. “So. But if anyone was following you we shall soon know it. The barricade was replaced ten minutes after you were—shall we say—deflected?” It had been down ten minutes, though. If Helena had been travelling at nearly our pace she had got through. Thanks to us, then, for she had not been ahead of us—if she had been going to Herrovosca at all, and I believed she had. I began thinking how lucky we had been for her, when the telephone on the Black Ghost’s desk rang sharply. He made us a slight bow of apology as he picked up the instrument. It seemed a strangely out of place thing for a bandit in a fancy dress costume to answer a telephone like a New York business man, yet he did it quite as naturally. The government customs office had no telephone, but a mountain bandit did. A bandit, of course, would find it necessary to be more efficient than Bela’s government would bother to be. Not for more than half a minute did the Black Ghost listen. Then he said something hard and sharp into the mouthpiece, hung it back on its stand, and sat silent for a moment. When he turned back to us his manner had changed. “So,” he said, “you were leading the way. Clever. But it did not prove a good plan because the other car lagged just a little too far be’ind. I was quite deceived in you. I cannot imagine where her Majesty finds so many ad’erents. She is a remarkably resourceful woman. You will per’aps answer a few questions truthfully, because I shall find the answers anyway. Are your passports real or are they falsified? I ask because it seems so remarkable that two men of your apparent standing should be willing to interfere in a matter that may so easily become very unpleasant for you.” “Our passports are quite in order,” I answered, “except for the slight discrepancy of the Rheatian border stamp.” “Most remarkable,” was his comment. “May I enquire why you were willing to do such a risky thing?” “The gate was open,” John answered, “and I was in a hurry. I really drove through without thinking.” “May I enquire again why you were in such a ’urry?” I decided that we had better tell at least a part of the truth. What could be the harm now in telling that we were following Helena? “What you say about leading the way,” I began, “I do not altogether understand. We were following someone, but she did not know it. You say there was no one ahead of us on that road. We passed a car mending a tire, but facing the other way. That must have been the leading car. The road was wet and slippery, and when the tire went they may very easily have skidded so that they turned around. We were so intent on hurrying to catch them that we went by without thinking of that. Very stupid indeed.” “Ah. Surely you will not object to tell me who this leader was?” “My cousin,” I said. “So. Another artist, this unnamed cousin?” “No. Does it matter?” “To me, yes, gentlemen. I quite understand your ’esitancy. A lady’s name should not be mentioned before a bandit. ’owever, I am becoming ’ungry. Breakfast is waiting for all of us when we ’ave finished our little talk. I will tell you a few things that will ’elp you to talk, I think. Countess Waldek was an American lady. She came from Boston, I ’ave ’eard. It is not impossible that she is the cousin. It becomes more possible when I tell you that she ’as been captured by my men, and is on ’er way ’ere. I think I will not let ’er see you. It may be better so. I ’eard already that she would ’ave a cousin to visit her sometime soon. I believe now that you arrived last evening. That is so, is it not?” “We did arrive.” “You made a very short visit, gentlemen, after so long a trip.” “Yes.” “You passed through Herrovosca yesterday.” He pronounced the H hard, almost like a K. “Did you, by any chance, learn of the events that were passing in the Cathedral Square?” “We were there,” I said. “Ah. And you recognised the new Queen?” “No,” I said. “No?” he crowded a good deal of disbelief into that word. “Ah,” he continued, “but per’aps you do not see this one-time American lady often?” “No,” I said again. “So. And per’aps she does not confide in you by letter?” “I haven’t had a letter from her in a year,” I said. “No? Then ’ow did you come so exactly to Herrovosca when you could be useful?” “We started on a casual, friendly trip, and wrote to her that we were coming,” I said. “We had no idea that anything was about to happen, and unless you are accusing Countess von Waldek of participating in the assassination of King Bela I don’t see how you can imagine she knew.” “I am not accusing the lady of that,” he answered, “but of conspiring to keep the rightful king from the throne. And I will relieve your natural anxiety. I have not detained ’er to ’arm her, but for ’er own safety. She is an intimate friend of Queen Yolanda. She brought up as ’er daughter the very pretty young girl who ’as been presented to a doubting people as the Princess Maria Lalena. It is a somewhat girlish prank to play on grown people, whether she is the true Princess or not. Even in the Balkans it is what the English call a bit thick to ’ide the heir to a throne for eight years. But it ’as been played at such a moment that if it is not ’andled very carefully it may lead to a very serious situation. To civil war, per’aps, that ’as been threatening for a long time, but might ’ave been averted. You follow me?” “Perfectly,” I said. “You mean that Prince Conrad would have been strong enough to hold the throne, but that he may not be able to hold it for this girl.” I wasn’t sure at all that that was what he meant, but I thought I could find out by putting it that way. The Black Ghost laughed, “Now I know,” he said, “that you know much about this situation. And I will tell you more. Not secrets, but things that I wish known, though you will not ’ave the chance to tell them for some time, I regret. Now, first, I ’ave the greatest personal regard for this cousin of yours. She is a very lovely lady, but she is not a politician. If she were not a very loyal friend of the Queen she would not trouble ’erself about such things, and that would be right. She makes trouble for ’erself, talking, and she will make trouble also for Prince Conrad. It is because I wish to stop ’er talking that when the Queen’s car went through the Pass tonight, I put up the barricade, and waited for ’er to come back. I guessed she would be in it. My men made a most annoying mistake when they caught you instead, for I do not like to disturb citizens of large countries. Also, you ’ave learned too much of my retreat ’ere. It is awkward, but you must stay now, for a little, as my most honored guests.” He bowed deeply. “We are flattered,” I said, and laughed at him. I decided that even if he were a bandit I liked him. “We appreciate your hospitality,” John grinned at him. “I assure you I never stayed anywhere that offered to be more diverting.” “I am glad,” the Black Ghost said, simply. “I will explain some more things to you that you may not understand. I do not wish to boast, but for the moment I rule Alaria, since I command the only troops of whose loyalty anyone can be sure. That is true. There were to ’ave been three factions in the country. Now there are four. The Dowager Queen still leads one. With Bela’s—removal—we thought that Prince Conrad would succeed to that place, and I would support ’im with my troops and my loyal followers. They are many. Prince Conrad ’as always kept ’is personal influence dormant in the interest of peace. For the same reason ’e ’as been forced to support the new Queen. She is to be dressed in white in contrast to my black garb, and the Reds’ arm bands. They are the third party ’ere. The Republicans are the fourth. They ’ave various ’eads. It is always so with Republicans. Bela was a libertine and a fool. Three times ’e attempted to kill Prince Conrad. Twice by ’iring men to shoot at ’im, and once ’e put poison in some wine with ’is own ’and. Fortunately ’e looked too eager, and Prince Conrad did not drink the wine. ’e was so ’ated that ’is removal was a necessity if civil war was to be averted. Probably even ’is mother was relieved if she would acknowledge it. ’e was to ’er a bridge to power. While she did not ’ave a ’and in ’is removal, I am sure, when it came it gave ’er a chance she ’ad most carefully prepared, to bring forward this little girl in white. A sweet and pretty little girl. I am very sorry for ’er. The Countess Waldek ’as been a most loyal friend. There is something magic in a personal friend who is also a queen, especially for a very democratic American.” “Americans are apt to be loyal friends,” I defended Helena almost automatically. I was beginning to feel she needed defense, which was a disloyal thought. “It does not matter very seriously to me,” he went on, “if later you should reach Herrovosca. When Prince Conrad is in power ’e can show the American Minister very quickly that you were concerning yourselves in affairs that are outside the proper province of American citizens. I shall detain you ’ere only until after the coronation, as a precaution. Queen Yolanda ’as indulged in one trick, and this is not a time for tricks. We must consolidate the interests of the Royal Family, and to do that we must be opportunists. And now we may all go in to breakfast. Pray go first, gentlemen. Since I was stabbed in the back I allow no one to walk be’ind me.” We preceded him across the hall, and into the dining room, where we ate alone with the Black Ghost. The meal was excellent, and we talked of Paris, and the races, and our trip across Europe, and the weather. The Black Ghost had been everywhere, and seemed inclined to make himself agreeable. After we had finished he spoke to the man who had served us, and four more bandits entered the room. “I am sorry, gentlemen,” he said suavely, “believe me, as my English governess used to say, this ’urts me worse than it does you. It is necessary for me to occupy myself with other things than your entertainment. ’owever, you will be lodged, I think, not uncomfortably, and no doubt you will wish to sleep. You ’ave driven most of the night. I ’ave given orders that you are to receive your luggage, but as it will not contain any weapons or papers when it is delivered to you, it might be as well that you give me your keys, though we ’ave a man who is quite expert with locks. And since I already ’ave your passports, both the Alarian and Rheatian governments, while not altogether friendly to me, will still act as my lieutenants in guarding you, in case you should effect the impossible and escape this place. You could not very well leave this no-man’s-land without passports. I tell you this that you may more easily compose yourselves to rest, gentlemen.” He waved his hand in a wide and graceful gesture so that the ruby flashed handsomely. We both bowed, and followed our jailors. As a matter of fact I was quite content to stay. Helena was there, we might be of some service to her, and when we were released we would probably be relieved of the necessity of explaining the discrepancy in our passports. My only sorrow was that the luggage in the car consisted mainly of John’s painting kit. All the rest was safely, but inconveniently, at Castle Waldek. We were led down a long dark stone-paved hallway, with several doors leading from it. Most of the doors were open, for light and air, since there was no other means of ventilating the passage. I glanced through them as we passed, noting the rooms. One was a handsome bedchamber, hung in crimson damask. The Black Ghost had luxurious tastes. Another had three beds in it, and little else—for his more important lieutenants, I judged. No doubt they gave him only part time service. A third, also a bedroom, was less cluttered with furniture than the others. A great bunch of wild flowers stood in the window, and a row of bottles on a dressing table proclaimed it a woman’s room. Surprised, I looked more carefully. On a chair at the foot of the bed lay a green velvet gown embroidered in gold thread. I had seen the gown before, in the customs house at the Alarian entrance to the Pass. |
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