Mrs. Fitz Part 18

"Well, here goes."

The gallant warrior gave a mighty tug at the bell. This met with no attention; but at the second a.s.sault on the amba.s.sadorial door-bell, the ma.s.sive portal was swung back, slowly and solemnly, by a gorgeous menial. In the immediate background there were others.

"I am General Drago, and I wish to see the Amba.s.sador." The Chief Constable's precision of phrase was really majestic.

The stalwart Illyrian, who seemed to be quite seven feet high from the crown of his wig to the soles of his silk stockings, bowed and led the way within.

When we had crossed his Excellency's threshold, and just as a gorgeous interior had unfolded itself to our respectful gaze, a very urbane-looking personage in evening clothes and a pair of white kid gloves took charge of us. He led us through a s.p.a.cious hall containing pillars of white marble, whence we pa.s.sed into a waiting-room, immediately to the right of a distinctly imposing alabaster staircase.

In this apartment the light was dim and religious, and the atmosphere had a chill solemnity. Our friend of the white kid gloves presented us with a slip of paper apiece, and indicated an inkstand on the table.

"Write our names in Illyrian," I whispered to my fellow conspirator.

"They will carry more weight."

The Chief Constable inscribed his own name on the slip of paper very laboriously, in the Illyrian character. When he had accomplished this feat, I proceeded as well as in me lay, and with a deliberation quite equal to his own, to commit to paper the name of the Herr Graf Alexis von Zbynska. I was beset with much misgiving as to the correct manner of spelling it, and therefore had recourse to a number of superfluous flourishes in order to conceal my ignorance as far as possible.

When the gentleman of the white kid gloves had solemnly borne away the slips of paper, the Chief Constable proceeded to remove a bead of honest perspiration from his manly forehead.

"Of all the cursed crackbrained schemes!" he muttered. "What does the madman expect us to do now!"

"Say as little and waste as much time as we can," said I, "and at ten minutes to ten, if we are still alive, we are to make our way up that staircase."

The head of the Middleshire Constabulary subsided into incoherence mingled with profanity.

The gentleman of the white kid gloves had closed the door upon us. The gloom and the silence of the room was terribly oppressive. With ticking nerves, I made a survey of its contents. The furniture appeared to consist of a large table with ma.s.sive legs, half a dozen chairs covered in red leather, a full-length portrait in oils, by Bruffenhauser, of his Illyrian Majesty, Ferdinand the Twelfth, in which the victor of Rodova appeared in full regalia in a gilt frame, a really magnificent-looking old gentleman; while on a separate table at the far end of the room was the Almanach de Gotha.

It began to seem that our suspense was going to last for ever. Not a sound penetrated to us from beyond the closed door. At last Coverdale took out his watch.

"Is it ten minutes to ten yet?" I inquired anxiously.

"No; it still wants a couple of minutes to half-past nine."

To be condemned to support such tension for a whole twenty minutes longer was to place a term upon eternity.

"Hadn't we better open the door," said I, "so that we can hear if anything happens?"

My fellow conspirator concurred.

I opened the door accordingly and looked out in the direction, of the alabaster staircase. A man was descending it in a rather languid manner. There was something curiously familiar about his appearance.

As soon as he saw me standing at the foot of the stairs he quickened his pace. It was clear that he wished to speak to me.

"Keep cool," he said, and to my half-joyful bewilderment I recognised the voice of Fitz. "You and Coverdale had better leave your overcoats in that room and go up. Go into the first room on the left on the first floor!"

With a coolness that was almost incredible, Fitz sauntered away across the wide vestibule with his hands in his pockets, while I returned to Coverdale with this latest command.

We obeyed it with a sense of relief. Anything was better than to sit counting the seconds in that funereal waiting-room. Divested of our overcoats, we went forth up the staircase, doing our best to appear quite at ease, as though there was nothing in the least unusual in the situation.

Half-way up we were confronted with two men coming down. They looked at us with quiet intentness and seemed inclined to speak. Coverdale pa.s.sed on with set gaze and rigid facial muscles, an art in which, like so many of his countrymen, he is greatly accomplished. His "Speak-to-me-if-you-dare" expression stood us in excellent stead. The two men pa.s.sed down the stairs without venturing to address us, and we went up.

The first room on the left, on the first floor, was a larger and more cheerful apartment than the one from which we had come. It was better lit; there was a bright fire, and it was furnished with taste, after the fashion of a drawing-room. There were books, photographs, and a piano.

The room was empty, but we had been in it scarcely a minute when a servant entered to offer us coffee. We did not disdain the amba.s.sadorial bounty. Excellent coffee it was.

We were toying with this refreshment when a stealthy rustle apprised us that we were also about to receive the indulgence of feminine society.

A young woman, tall and graceful, fair to the eye and charmingly gowned, came into the room with a sheet of music in her hand. The presence of a pair of total strangers did not embarra.s.s her.

"Do you like Schubert?" said she, with a delightful foreign intonation.

"I think Schubert is charming," said I, with heartiness and prompt.i.tude.

The lady flashed her teeth in a rare smile and sat down at the piano.

I arranged her music with a care that was rather elaborate.

It was not Schubert, however, that she began to play, but a haunting little "Impromptu" of Schumann's. Her playing was good to listen to, for her touch was highly educated; also it was fascinating to watch her movements, since she was an extremely graceful and vivid work of nature.

Very a.s.siduously I turned over her music. The occupation in itself was pleasant; also it seemed to give some sort of sanction to our unlawful presence. Coverdale, with his hands tucked deep in his pockets, appeared to listen most critically to the lady's playing; although, as I have heard him declare himself, the only form of music that appeals to him is "a really good bra.s.s band."

In the course of the performance of Schumann's "Impromptu" the audience of the fair pianist gained in number and authority. Like the famous Pied Piper of Hamelin, the thrilling delicacy of her touch began to entice quaint beasts from their lair. Alexander O'Mulligan sauntered into the drawing-room at about the fourth bar. He wore his most seraphic grin, and his ears were spread to catch the most illusive chords of melody. He gave Coverdale a jovial nod and winked at me. It was clear that the amateur middle-weight champion of Great Britain was enjoying himself immensely.

Hardly had Alexander O'Mulligan advised us of his genial presence, when Bra.s.set and my relation by marriage came in upon tiptoe. The sight of us all with an unknown lady discoursing Schumann for our benefit was doubtless as rea.s.suring as it was unexpected. In the emotion of the moment Jodey gave the amateur middle-weight champion a fraternal dig in the ribs.

However, our party could not be considered complete without the presence of the chief gamester. The "Impromptu" had run its course and the gracious lady at the piano had been prevailed upon to play something of Brahms', when the master mind, whose arrival we were nervously awaiting, appeared once more upon the scene. Fitz came into the room looking every inch the Man of Destiny.

CHAPTER XII

THE MAN OF DESTINY

It was not in looks alone that Fitz resembled the Man of Destiny. The peremptory decision of his manner fitted him for the part. The beautiful musician and her subtle cadences were significant to him only in so far as they could serve his will. Fitz entered in the midst of a rhapsody played divinely; and with an unconcerned air he went straight up to the piano, and, with Napoleonic effrontery, placed his elbow across the music.

"Sorry to interrupt you, Countess, but there is no time to lose."

The Countess lifted her fingers from the keys, and her teeth flashed in a smile that had an edge to it.

A shrug of the shoulders from the _pianiste_; and Fitz began to talk with considerable volubility in his fluent Illyrian. My nurture has been expensive; and on the admirable English principle of the more you pay for your education the less practical knowledge you acquire, let it cause no surprise that my acquaintance with the Illyrian tongue is limited to a few expletives. Therefore I was unable to follow the course of Fitz's conversation.

Perforce I had to be content with watching his play of gesture. This, too, was considerable. The air of languor which it had pleased him to a.s.sume in the crises of his fate was laid aside in favour of a wonderful ardour and conviction. He drummed his fingers on the top of the piano and urged his views with a fervour that might have moved the Sphinx.

At first the fair musician did not seem prepared to take Fitz seriously. Her smile was arch, and inclined to be playful. But Fitz was in an epic mood.

He had not come so far upon a momentous enterprise to be gainsaid by a woman's levity. The man began to wax tremendous. He kept his voice low, but the veins swelled in his forehead, and he beat the palm of his right hand with the fist of his left.

Before such a force of nature no woman could be expected to maintain her negative att.i.tude. Fitz's Illyrian became volcanic. In the end the lady at the piano spread her hands, said "Hein!" and rose from the music stool. A moment she stood irresolute, but the gaze upon her was that of a serpent fixed upon the eyes of a bird. The man's determination had won the day. For, clearly at his behest, she quitted the room, and Fitz, white and tense, yet with blazing eyes, followed her.

For the moment it seemed that he had forgotten his fellow conspirators.

But as soon as he had pa.s.sed out of the room he turned back.

"Stay where you are," he said. "You will be wanted presently."