The Lighted Match Part 36

"Dear," she said in a voice hardly more than a whisper, "whatever I do--whatever I decide--always and always I love you!" Impulsively her fingers clutched at his, which rested clenched on her arm-chair.

"You must go!" she said, after a long while. "With you here there is nothing else in the world. I can see only you." With a catch in her voice she rushed on. "You must not only go, but I must not know where you go. I must not be able to call you back. You must give me your word of honor."

He attempted to speak, but she tightened her hold on his hands and her hurried utterance checked his words.

"No!" she said. "Listen! This time I decide forever. I must decide alone. You must not only be out of my sight, but beyond recall. Three months from to-day I shall write to you, but until then I must not know your address. Three months from to-day you may be at 'Idle Times,' where I first told you I loved you ... where we told each other ... if you still wish to be. Then, if I decide that I am free, you will find my letter there. If I'm not free, I had better not even write. I couldn't write without calling you back. If I have to decide that way--" She broke off with a shudder. "Oh, you must go--Dear!--you must go quickly--! It is the only way you can help me."

A half-hour later, Benton turned to the approaching Von Ritz.

"Colonel," he said steadily, "I sail for San Francis...o...b.. way of Suez from the first port we reach. You will favor me by accepting the _Isis_ as long as Her Majesty can use it."

Von Ritz met his eyes in silence and held out his hand.

CHAPTER XXVIII

JUSSERET MAKES A REPORT

In Paris a small party of gentlemen, among whom were represented all the national types of Southern Europe, were engaged in an informal discussion of very formal affairs. They occupied a private suite in the Hotel Ritz overlooking the column of the _Place Vendome_. Upon a table swept clean of draperies and bric-a-brac lay an outstretched map of the Mediterranean littoral, whereon a small peninsula had been marked with certain experimental and revised boundaries in red and blue and black.

The atmosphere was thick with the smoke from cigars and cigarettes, and through the veneering amenities of much courtesy the gentlemen of Europe's _Cabinets Noirs_ wrangled with insistence. Finally Monsieur Jusseret took the floor, and the others dropped respectfully into an att.i.tude of listening.

"It is hardly necessary," he began, "to discuss what has been done in Galavia. That is long since a stale story. Our governments, acting in concert, made it possible to remove Karyl and crown Louis." He smiled quietly. "You know how short a reign Louis enjoyed before death claimed him. Perhaps you do not know that his death was not unforeseen by me."

There was an outburst of exclamations under which France's representative remained unmoved.

"Our object," he explained coldly, "was the disruption of Galavia's integrity. In reducing this Kingdom to a province, the supplanting of Karyl with Louis was essential only as an initial step. The instability of that government had to be demonstrated to the world by more continuous disorders. It was necessary to show that the Kingdom had become incapable of self-rule. It followed that the removal of Louis was equally natural--and imperative."

Don Alphonso Rodriguez, bearing the secret credentials of Spain, came to his feet with the hauteur of offended dignity.

"My government" he said, with austere deliberation, "had the right to know what matters were being transacted. France appears to have a.s.sumed exclusive control. Is it too late to inquire of France"--he bent a chilling frown upon the smiling Jusseret--"what she now purposes? It appears that Spain knew no more than the newspapers. Spain also believed that Louis died by his own hand, and artlessly a.s.sumed the motive of disappointment in his love for Marie Astaride. We believed we were being frankly informed."

The more accomplished diplomat lifted brows and hands in a deprecating gesture. "_Mon ami_," he responded with suavity, "you flatter me. What I have done is nothing. I have only paved the way. Quite possibly Louis did kill himself. If so it was a meritorious act, but whether he did so or whether some mad young officer, infatuated and jealous, was the real author of the result, the result stands--and meets our requirements.

France does not care what flag flies over the Governor-General's Palace in Puntal, provided it be the flag of a nation in concert with France.

France suggests that the Governor-General should be a Galavian, and points to the one man conspicuously capable--who happens to be," he added with an amused laugh, "my particular enemy."

"You mean Von Ritz?" The question came from Italy's delegate.

Jusseret bowed his head. "Von Ritz," he affirmed.

Don Alphonso Rodriguez laughed with a note of incredulity. "And how do you propose," he demanded, "to persuade this loyal adviser of Karyl to accept a deputyship at the hands of Karyl's enemies?"

Again Jusseret smiled. "It will be Von Ritz or a foreigner," he explained. "We must convince him that his beloved Kingdom can henceforth be only a province in any event--that it may prosper under his guidance or suffer under a more oppressive hand. That done, his patriotism will prove our ally. We have only to convince him that no member of Karyl's house can reign and live--and that it must be himself or an alien."

"It would have been as easy," demurred the Portuguese delegate, "to have persuaded Von Ritz that Karyl himself should abdicate."

Jusseret felt the hostility of the other members. In spite of the realization, or perhaps because of it, he glanced from face to face with unruffled urbanity.

"_Messieurs_," he suggested, "you overlook the hypotheses--and in reaching conclusions hypotheses are serviceable. You, gentlemen," he continued blandly, "regarded the initial steps as impracticable. What I volunteered to do, I have so far done. We have one object. The insatiate ambition of that nation, which we need not name, must not gain additional Mediterranean foothold. Spain or Portugal, it is one to us, may decide the matter of suzerainty between themselves."

"How do you mean to persuade Von Ritz?" insisted Don Alphonso.

"In the young Queen, who is the sole eligible candidate for the Throne, we have at heart an unwilling heir. Von Ritz distrusts France. Let the suggestion come from Portugal, a friend who can speak persuasively--and convincingly. Let him see the inevitable result unless he consents. Let all which we have done be denounced. Lead him to believe that he holds as steward"--Jusseret raised his hands as he concluded--"for Karyl's heir, if there should be one. These things are mere details."

Benton worked his way slowly to San Francisco through the Far East. It is not difficult to avoid newspapers between Ismalia and Manila, and with the dogged determination to let the day set by Cara answer all questions of his future, he had neither sought nor received tidings from Galavia.

He had not permitted himself great indulgence in hope. The past months had brought too many disappointments, and he knew that they had all been but episodes leading up to the climax which must come with the day when he inquired for a letter at "Idle Times."

He dreaded a return to "Idle Times" before the day set for his inquiry.

Bristow's place stood for too much of memory, and the inevitable questions of his friend loomed before him, as the trifle which a man who has stood much more than trifles cannot bring himself to face. Yet there was no danger of his being late. That time was the one fixed point on the calendar of his future. One day before his three months had come to an end, he arrived, but he did not go to Van Bristow's house. He did not announce his coming. He went by the less frequented streets of the near-by village to its inadequate hotel, where he found only a drummer for a New York shoe house and a gentleman traveling "out of Chicago"

with samples of ready-made clothing.

For a time he sat in the dingy parlor of the place and listened to the jarring talk of the commercial travelers. Already Galavia and the months which had been, seemed receding into an improbable dream, but the misery of their bequeathing was poignantly real.

He rose impatiently and made his way to the livery-stable, where he hired a saddle horse. His idea was merely to be alone. The reins hung on the neck of his spiritless mount and the roads he went were the roads it took of its own unguided selection.

Suddenly Benton looked up. He was in a lane between overarching trees; a lane which he remembered. Off to the side were the hills bristling with pines, raised against the sky like the lances of marching troops. It was the road he had ridden with her on that day when her horse fell at the fence--and there, on the side of the hill, stood a dilapidated cabin: the cabin upon whose porch he had poured water over her hands from a gourd dipper.

It was only the end of September, but an early frost had flushed the woods and hillsides into a hint of the crimson and gold they were soon to wear in more profligate splendor. The fragrant, blue mist of wood smoke drifted over the fields at the foot of the k.n.o.bs. The hills were seen through a wash of purple. From somewhere to the far left drifted the mellowed music of fox-hounds. Riding slowly, the man came at length to the cabin gate.

The same farmer sat as indolently now as then, on the top step. The setter dog started up to growl as the horseman dismounted.

The man did not recognize him, but the proffer of Benton's cigar-case proved a sufficient credential, and a discussion of the weather appeared a satisfactory reason for remaining. It was only a verbal and logical step from weather to crops, and in ten minutes the visitor was being shown over the place. When the round of cribs and stables was completed it was time for the host to feed his stock, and, saying good-by at the barn, he left Benton to make his way alone to the cabin. Pa.s.sing through the house from the back, the man halted suddenly and with abrupt wonderment at the front door.

For upright and slim, with a small gauntleted hand resting on one of the rude posts of the porch, gazing off intently into the coloring west, stood an unmistakable figure in a black riding habit. Incredulous, suddenly stunned under the c.u.mulative suspense of the past three months, he stood hesitant. Then the figure slowly turned and, as the old heart-breaking, heart-recompensing smile came to her lips and eyes, the girl silently held out both arms to him.

Finally he found time to ask: "How long have you been here?"

"Six weeks," she answered. "And it's been lonesome."

"Your answer, Cara," he whispered. "What is your answer?"

"I am here," she said. "Don't you see me? I'm the answer."

THE END

BIOGRAPHIES