The Lady Evelyn Part 23

"Oh, I knew that! What I am hoping is that they will get it hot after we have told the tale at Bukharest. The authorities----"

"Authorities, in the Balkans, Arthur! Do you forget our escort?"

"Oh, those blackguards. They ought to enter for the mile championship at the L.A.C. In the matter of running, they are a glory to their country."

"They will tell some c.o.c.k-and-bull story and make it out that we dismissed them. Chesny told me not to put too much reliance upon them.

Well, they're no loss. We can see it through without them."

"Good old p.r.o.noun. Would you define that 'it' for my benefit?"

"Oh, there I'm beaten. We are going up a mountain and may go down again. That's evident. Two Jacks and no Jills to speak of. There's a house also, I perceive--across the torrent yonder. That must have been built when the witches were young. The flat tiles speak of Julius Caesar, don't they? I wonder if they know we're coming?"

"We might have cabled 'coffee and the nearest approach to cold grouse.'

Do you like cold grouse for breakfast, Gavin? There's nothing to beat it on the list, to my way of thinking. Cold grouse and nice, crisp, hot toast. Some Cambridge squash afterwards, and then a great big round pipe. That's what you think of when you've been ten hours in the saddle and can't find an inn. I wish I could discern it now, as the curate says."

Gavin smiled, but his gaze was set upon the ancient ruin his quick eye had observed upon a height of the green mountain above them. He wondered if the path would carry them by it, or pierce the hills and leave the castle, for such it plainly had been, upon their left hands.

But for the circ.u.mstances in which he approached it, the scene had been wild and strange enough to have awakened all an artist's dormant capacities for admiration. They were well above the pine woods by this time and could look back upon a fertile valley, exquisitely green, and bordered by shining rivers. Villages, churches, farms were so many dolls' houses planted upon mighty fields while midget beasts awakened to the day. The bridle-track itself wound about a considerable mountain whose slopes were glorious with heather and mountain ash; there were other peaks beyond, rising in a crescendo of grandeur to the distant vista of the eternal snows, where the G.o.ds of solitude had been enthroned and melancholy uplifted an icy sceptre.

Gavin could not but be sensible of the majesty of this scene; nor did he find the old castle out of harmony with its beauties. The building, which he now perceived that they were approaching, had been built in a cleft of the hills, at a point where the torrent fell in a thunder of silver spray to a deep blue pool far down in the valley below.

Clinging, as it were, to the very face of a precipitous cliff, a drawbridge spanned the torrent and gave access to the mountain road upon the further side of the pa.s.s; but so narrow was the river and so perpendicular the rocks that it seemed as though men might clasp hands across the abyss or a good horse take it in the stride of a gallop.

For the rest, the black frowning walls, the iron-sheathed doors, the pint-houses, the barbicon, the quaint turrets thrust out here and there above the chasm, spoke of many centuries and many arts--here of Saracen, there of Turk, of the reign of the rounded arch, and even of glorious Gothic. A building to study, Gavin said, to scan with well-schooled eyes from some opposing height, whence every phase of its changing wonders might be justly estimated by him who would learn and imitate. Even his own predicament was forgotten when his guides stopped upon its threshold and demanded in loud tones that the drawbridge should be let down.

"This is the place, by Mahomet," said Arthur dryly ... and he added, "What a devil of a house for a week-end!"

Gavin bade him listen. A voice across the chasm replied to the gypsy hail.

"Don't you recognize that?" he asked; "it's the voice we heard in the wood."

"When this crowd desired to agitate my heirs, executors and a.s.signs?

You're right for a ransom. I wonder if they'll introduce us."

"We shall soon know. Here's the bridge coming down. What have you done with your armor, Arthur?"

"Left it in the cab, perhaps--don't speak, that ancient person yonder engrosses me. I wonder what Tree would pay for the loan of his make-up."

"I'll put the question when I return. This evidently is where we get down. Well, I'm glad of that anyhow."

It was as he said. The cavalcade had come to its journey's end; and there, picturesquely grouped upon the narrow road, were men and mules and mountain ponies, giving more than a welcome splash of color to the neighboring monotony of rock and shrub, and right glad all to be once more at their ease. It now became plain that none but the gypsy leader was to enter the Castle with the prisoners; and he, when he had addressed some loud words to the others (for the roar of the torrent compelled him to shout), pa.s.sed first across the bridge, leading Kenyon's pony and calling to the other to follow him. Just a glance the men could turn upon raging waters, here of the deepest blue, there a sour green, or again but a boiling, tumbling ma.s.s of writhing foam--just this and the vista of the sheer, cruel rocks and the infernal abyss; then they pa.s.sed over and the bridge was drawn up and they stood within the courtyard, as securely caged as though the oubliettes prisoned them and gyves of steel were about their wrists.

"Excellents, my master, the Chevalier, would speak with you."

Thus said the guide--and, as he said it, Gavin understood that he had come to the house of Count Odin's father, the man who had loved Dora d'Istran, and for love of her had paid nearly twenty years of his precious liberty.

"And this is the Castle of Okna?" he exclaimed.

The guide smiled.

"No, excellency," he said, "the Castle of Okna lies many miles from here. You must speak to our master of that. That is his step, excellency!"

They listened and heard the tapping of a stick upon a stone pavement.

It approached them laboriously; and after that which seemed an interminable interval, an old white-haired man appeared at one of the doors of the quadrangle and raising his voice bade them welcome. The voice was the one they recognized as that of the wood; but the face of the speaker sent a shudder through Gavin's veins which left him unashamed.

"Blind," he muttered, amazed--"the man is blind."

CHAPTER XXVI

THROUGH A WOMAN'S HEART

The blind man felt his way down a short flight of stairs, and, standing before the prisoners, he said in a voice indescribably harsh and grating:

"Gentlemen, welcome to Setchevo," and so he told them the name of the place to which their journey had carried them.

A man of middle stature, slightly bent, his face pitted and scarred revoltingly, his fine white hair combed down with scrupulous vanity upon his shoulders, the eyes, nevertheless, remained supreme in their power to repel and to dominate. Sightless, they seemed to search the very heart of him who braved them. Look where they might, the Englishmen's gaze came back at last to those unforgettable eyes. The horror of them was indescribable.

"Welcome to Setchevo, gentlemen. I am the Chevalier Georges Odin.

Yes, I have heard of you and am glad to see you. Please to say which of you is Mr. Gavin Ord."

Gavin stepped forward and answered in a loud, courageous voice, "I am he." The blind man, pa.s.sing trembling claws over the hands and faces of the two, smiled when he heard the voice and drew still nearer to them.

"You came from England to see me," he said; "you bring me news from my son and his English wife."

This was a thing to startle them. Did he, then, believe that Count Odin, his son, had already married the Lady Evelyn, or was it but a _coup de theatre_ to invite them to an indiscretion. Gavin, shrewd and watchful, decided in an instant upon the course he would take.

"I bring no message from your son; nor has he, to my knowledge, an English wife. Permit me an interview where we can be alone and I will state my business freely. Your method of bringing us here, Chevalier, may be characteristic of the Balkans; but I do not think it will be understood by my English friends in Bukharest. You will be wise to remember that at the outset."

Here was a threat and a wise threat; but the old man heard it with disdain, his tongue licking his lips and a smile, vicious and cruel, upon his scarred face.

"My friend," he said, "at the donjon of Setchevo we think nothing of English opinion at Bukharest, as you will learn in good time. I thank you, however, for reminding me that you are my guests and fasting. Be good enough to follow me. The English, I remember, are eaters of flesh at dawn, being thus but one step removed from the cannibals. This house shall gratify you--please to follow me, I say."

Laboriously as he had descended the stairs, he climbed them again, the baffling smile still upon his face and the stick tapping weirdly upon the broken stone. The house within did not belie the house as it appeared from without. Arched corridors, cracked groins, moulded frescoes, great bare apartments with dismal furniture of brown oak, the whole building breathed a breath both chilling and pestilential. If there were a redeeming feature, Gavin found it in the so-called Banqueting Hall, a fine room gracefully panelled with a barrel vault and some antique mouldings original enough to awaken an artist's curiosity. The great buffet of this boasted plate was of considerable value and no little merit of design; and such a breakfast as the Chevalier's servants had prepared was served upon a mighty oak table which had been a table when the second Mohammed ravaged Bosnia.

The men were hungry enough and they ate and drank with good appet.i.te.

Perhaps it was with some relief that they discovered a greater leniency within the house than they had found without. Discomfort is often the ally of fear; and whatever were the demerits of the House at Setchevo, the discomforts were relatively trifling. As for the old blind Chevalier, he sat at the head of the table just as though he had eyes to watch their every movement and to judge them thereby. Not until they had made a good meal of delicious coffee and fine white bread, with eggs and a dish of Kolesha in a stiff square lump from the pan--not until then did he intrude with a word, or appear in any way anxious to question them.

"You pay a tribute to our mountain air," he exclaimed at last, speaking a little to their astonishment in their own tongue; "that is your English virtue, you can eat at any time."

"And some of us are equally useful in the matter of drinking," rejoined Arthur Kenyon, who had begun to enjoy himself again, and was delighted to hear the English language.

The Chevalier, however, believed this to be some reflection upon his hospitality, and he said at once:

"I compliment you upon your frankness, _mein herr_--my servants shall bring wine."

"Oh, indeed, no, I referred to a very bad habit," exclaimed Kenyon quickly and then rising, he added, "With your permission, sir, I will leave you with my friend. I am sure you have both much to say to each other."

He did not wait for a reply but strolled off to the other end of the hall and thence out to the courtyard, no man saying him nay. Alone together, the Chevalier and Gavin sat a few moments in awkward silence, each debating the phrase with which he should open the argument.

Meanwhile, a Turkish servant brought cigarettes, and the old man lighted one but immediately cast it from him.