By Wit of Woman - Arthur W. Marchmont (e textbook reader .TXT) 📗

suspects?"

"You must prevent that. I shall see him afterwards. If you let him suspect or if you play me false, I shall know; and the consequences will not be pleasant for you. You will tell Count Gustav not to see you to-morrow, because you are afraid I shall guess something; and that if he has to communicate with you, he must write. It is the only way in which I can save you from him."

"And what am I to do afterwards?"

"I will tell you to-morrow. Be assured of this. I and those whose power is behind me will see not only that no harm comes to you, but that you are well paid."

"I am giving up everything."

"It is no time to bargain. What you are giving up in reality is the risk of a gaol and the certainty of exposure and ruin—and worse."

"Mother of Heaven, have mercy on me!" she cried.

I did not stop to hear her lamentations. It was two o'clock already. I had still many things to fix, and I must be back in the house soon after Count Gustav reached it. The fur was to fly in my interview with him; and I must have all my claws sharp.

I did not make the mistake of underestimating his strength as an adversary. I should have to use very different means with him from those which had sufficed to frighten Madame d'Artelle; and I must have the proofs ready to produce. I was going to change his present half-contemptuous suspicion into open antagonism; and that he could and would be a very dangerous enemy, I did not allow myself to doubt.

My first step was to find the house in Buda of which Madame d'Artelle had spoken. It was a bright pleasant house in a pretty, carefully kept garden; not more than a mile from the villa I myself had just rented. But to my surprise it was occupied: a girl was playing with a couple of dogs on the lawn. My first thought was that Madame had misled me; my second, to try and ascertain this for myself.

I entered the garden and walked toward the house, and the dogs came scampering across barking. The girl turned and followed them.

"Your garden is beautiful," I said, with a smile. "If the house is as much beyond the description of it as the garden, it will suit me admirably."

"You came to take the house?" she asked.

"Yes, I have a letter here—let me see, oh, this is my list—ah, yes—'Unter den Linden.' Is not that the name?" and taking a slip of paper from my pocket I pretended to consult it.

"Yes, this is 'Unter den Linden'—those are the trees;" and she pointed to the limes which gave the name. "But I am afraid you are too late. I think it is let."

I was overcome with disappointment; but perhaps she would ask her mother. We went into the house and she left me in the dining-room. Presently the mother came; a tired looking creature who had once been pretty, like the girl, but was now frayed and worn. She was very sorry, but the house was let. I was just too late. It had only been let the previous day. Did I want it for long?

"Not more than twelve months certain," I told her.

She threw up her hands. "Just my ill-luck," she cried, dismally. "I have let it for two months, and we go out this evening. But perhaps I could get out of it."

"That is not worth while. I should not want it for a month yet, and perhaps could wait for two. Could I see over the house?"

In this way I was taken into every nook and corner of it; and enabled to fix every room and passage and door in my memory. And then I inspected the garden and outside places.

"Do you leave your servants?" I asked, at the end of a number of questions.

"We keep but one. My daughter and I live alone, and do most of the work when we are at home. And the servant goes away with us."

"An excellent arrangement. I have my own servants. I wonder now if we could induce your tenant to let me have the place in a month. Who is he?"

"It is taken for Count von Ostelen—but I do not know him. The agents have done everything. I could ask them."

"Do so, and let me know;" and I jotted down at random a name and address to which she could write, and left.

I had done well so far; and I drove rapidly to my own house in good spirits over my success.

There was only one point which puzzled me. Why had that name, Count von Ostelen, been used? Was it merely as the name in which Count Karl usually travelled incognito? Just as he had used it in New York? Or had his brother some other motive?

It was only a trifle, of course; but then, as I have said, I am accustomed to take some trifles seriously.

If I could have seen a little farther ahead, I should have taken this one even more seriously than usual; and should not have dismissed it from my thoughts as I did when I reached my house and was kissing Gareth in response to the glad smile with which she greeted me.

My next step concerned her.

CHAPTER X A DRAMATIC STROKE

"Have you any news for me?" was Gareth's eager question, natural enough under the circumstances, and her delicate expressive face clouded as I shook my head.

"We could scarcely expect any good news yet, dear."

"I suppose not; but I am so anxious."

"It will all come right in time, Gareth." But that very trite commonplace had no more soothing effect on her than it often has on wiser folk.

"I suppose I must be patient; but I wish I could do something for myself. I hate being patient. Why can't I go out myself and search for him? I put my hat on once this morning to start."

"I told you before the risk you would run."

"Oh, I know all that, of course," she replied, petulantly. "I've been with you nearly two days and you've done nothing. Two whole long days. And it's so dull here. It's worse than at Sillien."

"Would it have been better had those men taken you?"

She threw her arms round my neck then and burst into tears. "I know how ungrateful I am. I hate myself for it, Christabel. But I did so hope you had brought some news. And I am so disappointed."

I let her cry, knowing the relief which tears bring to such a nature as hers. She soon dried her eyes, and sat down and looked at me, her hands folded demurely on her lap—the picture of pretty meekness.

"How pretty you are, Gareth—with your lovely golden hair, your great blue eyes, and pink and white cheeks."

"Am I?" she asked artlessly, smiling. "Karl used to say that; and I used to love to hear him say it. I only cared to be pretty because he liked it. But I like to hear you say it, too. You see I'm not a bit clever, like you; and one must be either clever or pretty, mustn't one? Karl's both handsome and clever. Oh, so handsome, Christabel. You'll say so when you see him. I wish I had a likeness."

This gave me an idea. "Couldn't you draw a likeness of him, Gareth, for me? You see it might help me to recognize him."

Her face broke into a sunny smile. "I can draw a little; I couldn't do him justice, of course—no one could do that. He's too handsome. But I could give you an idea of what he's like."

We found paper and pencil. "Do the best you can and then put my name on it, and sign it Gareth von Ostelen, and put the date to it, so that I can have it for a keepsake."

"Lovely," she cried, merrily; and set to work at once.

I watched her a few moments, and when she was absorbed in the task, I went off saying I had some directions to give about house matters.

It was part of my plan that John Perry and his son, as soon as the latter returned, should go to the house "Unter den Linden." I might need them for my personal protection.

I told John Perry now, therefore, that he was to hire a woman servant to come and help his wife in waiting upon Gareth. He was then to purchase a carriage and a pair of good horses, and procure uniforms for himself and his son. He was to act as coachman and James as footman; and everything must be in readiness for him to carry out instantly any orders he received from me. I should either bring or send the orders on the next afternoon.

I explained that in all probability he would have to drive to the house "Unter den Linden," stable the horses there, and dismiss any men servants he might find about the house; and I suggested that he should go first to the house and find an excuse to learn his way about the stables.

When I returned to Gareth she had finished the drawing and had added a clever little thumb-nail sketch of herself in the corner, where she had written her name and the date. The drawing really merited the praise I bestowed upon it.

"I could do much better if I had not to hurry it," she said, self-critically.

"Do another while I am away, then," I urged, thinking it would fill out the time for her. "And now there is one other thing. Could you give me a paper or letter with his signature—I might be able to trace him through some of the public rolls."

There were no such rolls of course; but she did not know this, and thought the idea so clever that she gave me one of the two letters from him she had with her; and kissed me and wished me good luck as I drove away.

Although there was not much risk of my movements being traced, I thought it best to dismiss my carriage before I crossed the Suspension Bridge, and to finish the journey to Madame d'Artelle's in another.

As the minute approached for the trial of wits and strength with Count Gustav, my confidence increased. Every fighting instinct in my nature was roused; and the struggle was one in which I took a keen personal pleasure. His hateful treatment of the girl who had trusted him filled me with indignation and resentment; and the hope of forcing him to do justice to her was one of the sharpest spurs to my courage. He should do that or face the alternative of having his double treachery exposed.

I was a little later than I had intended in reaching the house, and I asked the servant somewhat anxiously if any one had yet been for me.

"No, miss, no one."

"I am expecting a Colonel Katona to call, Peter," I said, giving him a gold piece; "and I do not wish any one to know of his visit. I shall be with Madame probably; so when the Colonel arrives, make up a little parcel and bring it to me, and just say: 'The parcel you asked about, miss.' Put the Colonel in the little room off the music room, and tell him that I will see him as soon as possible. You understand this?"

"Yes indeed, miss," he answered with a grin as he slipped the money in his pocket.

"Where is Madame d'Artelle?"

"In the salon."

"Alone?"

"No, miss; Count Gustav is with her. He has been here about a quarter of an hour."

I went straight to the salon. Madame was sitting on a lounge, her face full of trouble, and Count Gustav was pacing up and down the room speaking energetically with many forceful gestures. He stopped and frowned at the interruption; but his frown changed to a smile as he held out his hand.

He opened with what, as