الفصل الفصل 17 · Young Rupert’s Midnight Diversions

. Young Rupert’s Midnight Diversions

The night came fine and clear. I had prayed for dirty weather, such as

had favoured my previous voyage in the moat, but Fortune was this time

against me. Still I reckoned that by keeping close under the wall and in

the shadow I could escape detection from the windows of the chateau

that looked out on the scene of my efforts. If they searched the moat,

indeed, my scheme must fail; but I did not think they would. They had

made “Jacob’s Ladder” secure against attack. Johann had himself helped

to fix it closely to the masonry on the under side, so that it could

not now be moved from below any more than from above. An assault with

explosives or a long battering with picks alone could displace it, and

the noise involved in either of these operations put them out of the

question. What harm, then, could a man do in the moat? I trusted that

Black Michael, putting this query to himself, would answer confidently,

“None;” while, even if Johann meant treachery, he did not know my

scheme, and would doubtless expect to see me, at the head of my friends,

before the front entrance to the chateau. There, I said to Sapt, was the

real danger. “And there,” I added, “you shall be. Doesn’t that content

you?”

But it did not. Dearly would he have liked to come with me, had I not

utterly refused to take him. One man might escape notice, to double

the party more than doubled the risk; and when he ventured to hint once

again that my life was too valuable, I, knowing the secret thought he

clung to, sternly bade him be silent, assuring him that unless the King

lived through the night, I would not live through it either.

At twelve o’clock, Sapt’s command left the chateau of Tarlenheim and

struck off to the right, riding by unfrequented roads, and avoiding the

town of Zenda. If all went well, they would be in front of the Castle by

about a quarter to two. Leaving their horses half a mile off, they were

to steal up to the entrance and hold themselves in readiness for the

opening of the door. If the door were not opened by two, they were to

send Fritz von Tarlenheim round to the other side of the Castle. I would

meet him there if I were alive, and we would consult whether to storm

the Castle or not. If I were not there, they were to return with all

speed to Tarlenheim, rouse the Marshal, and march in force to Zenda. For

if not there, I should be dead; and I knew that the King would not be

alive five minutes after I ceased to breathe. I must now leave Sapt and

his friends, and relate how I myself proceeded on this eventful night.

I went out on the good horse which had carried me, on the night of

the coronation, back from the hunting-lodge to Strelsau. I carried a

revolver in the saddle and my sword. I was covered with a large cloak,

and under this I wore a warm, tight-fitting woollen jersey, a pair of

knickerbockers, thick stockings, and light canvas shoes. I had rubbed

myself thoroughly with oil, and I carried a large flask of whisky. The

night was warm, but I might probably be immersed a long while, and it

was necessary to take every precaution against cold: for cold not only

saps a man’s courage if he has to die, but impairs his energy if others

have to die, and, finally, gives him rheumatics, if it be God’s will

that he lives. Also I tied round my body a length of thin but stout

cord, and I did not forget my ladder. I, starting after Sapt, took a

shorter route, skirting the town to the left, and found myself in the

outskirts of the forest at about half-past twelve. I tied my horse up

in a thick clump of trees, leaving the revolver in its pocket in the

saddle--it would be no use to me--and, ladder in hand, made my way to

the edge of the moat. Here I unwound my rope from about my waist, bound

it securely round the trunk of a tree on the bank, and let myself down.

The Castle clock struck a quarter to one as I felt the water under me

and began to swim round the keep, pushing the ladder before me, and

hugging the Castle wall. Thus voyaging, I came to my old friend,

“Jacob’s Ladder,” and felt the ledge of the masonry under me. I crouched

down in the shadow of the great pipe--I tried to stir it, but it was

quite immovable--and waited. I remember that my predominant feeling

was neither anxiety for the King nor longing for Flavia, but an intense

desire to smoke; and this craving, of course, I could not gratify.

The drawbridge was still in its place. I saw its airy, slight framework

above me, some ten yards to my right, as I crouched with my back against

the wall of the King’s cell. I made out a window two yards my side of it

and nearly on the same level. That, if Johann spoke true, must belong to

the duke’s apartments; and on the other side, in about the same relative

position, must be Madame de Mauban’s window. Women are careless,

forgetful creatures. I prayed that she might not forget that she was to

be the victim of a brutal attempt at two o’clock precisely. I was rather

amused at the part I had assigned to my young friend Rupert Hentzau; but

I owed him a stroke--for, even as I sat, my shoulder ached where he had,

with an audacity that seemed half to hide his treachery, struck at me,

in the sight of all my friends, on the terrace at Tarlenheim.

Suddenly the duke’s window grew bright. The shutters were not closed,

and the interior became partially visible to me as I cautiously raised

myself till I stood on tiptoe. Thus placed, my range of sight embraced a

yard or more inside the window, while the radius of light did not

reach me. The window was flung open and someone looked out. I marked

Antoinette de Mauban’s graceful figure, and, though her face was in

shadow, the fine outline of her head was revealed against the light

behind. I longed to cry softly, “Remember!” but I dared not--and

happily, for a moment later a man came up and stood by her. He tried to

put his arm round her waist, but with a swift motion she sprang away and

leant against the shutter, her profile towards me. I made out who the

newcomer was: it was young Rupert. A low laugh from him made me sure, as

he leant forward, stretching out his hand towards her.

“Gently, gently!” I murmured. “You’re too soon, my boy!”

His head was close to hers. I suppose he whispered to her, for I saw her

point to the moat, and I heard her say, in slow and distinct tones:

“I had rather throw myself out of this window!”

He came close up to the window and looked out.

“It looks cold,” said he. “Come, Antoinette, are you serious?”

She made no answer so far as I heard; and he, smiting his hand petulantly

on the window-sill, went on, in the voice of some spoilt child:

“Hang Black Michael! Isn’t the princess enough for him? Is he to have

everything? What the devil do you see in Black Michael?”

“If I told him what you say--” she began.

“Well, tell him,” said Rupert, carelessly; and, catching her off her

guard, he sprang forward and kissed her, laughing, and crying, “There’s

something to tell him!”

If I had kept my revolver with me, I should have been very sorely

tempted. Being spared the temptation, I merely added this new score to

his account.

“Though, faith,” said Rupert, “it’s little he cares. He’s mad about the

princess, you know. He talks of nothing but cutting the play-actor’s

throat.”

Didn’t he, indeed?

“And if I do it for him, what do you think he’s promised me?”

The unhappy woman raised her hands above her head, in prayer or in

despair.

“But I detest waiting,” said Rupert; and I saw that he was about to

lay his hand on her again, when there was a noise of a door in the room

opening, and a harsh voice cried:

“What are you doing here, sir?”

Rupert turned his back to the window, bowed low, and said, in his loud,

merry tones: “Apologizing for your absence, sir. Could I leave the lady

alone?”

The newcomer must be Black Michael. I saw him directly, as he advanced

towards the window. He caught young Rupert by the arm.

“The moat would hold more than the King!” said he, with a significant

gesture.

“Does your Highness threaten me?” asked Rupert.

“A threat is more warning than most men get from me.”

“Yet,” observed Rupert, “Rudolf Rassendyll has been much threatened, and

yet lives!”

“Am I in fault because my servants bungle?” asked Michael scornfully.

“Your Highness has run no risk of bungling!” sneered Rupert.

It was telling the duke that he shirked danger as plain as ever I

have heard a man told. Black Michael had self-control. I dare say he

scowled--it was a great regret to me that I could not see their faces

better--but his voice was even and calm, as he answered:

“Enough, enough! We mustn’t quarrel, Rupert. Are Detchard and Bersonin

at their posts?”

“They are, sir.”

“I need you no more.”

“Nay, I’m not oppressed with fatigue,” said Rupert.

“Pray, sir, leave us,” said Michael, more impatiently. “In ten minutes

the drawbridge will be drawn back, and I presume you have no wish to

swim to your bed.”

Rupert’s figure disappeared. I heard the door open and shut again.

Michael and Antoinette de Mauban were left together. To my chagrin,

the duke laid his hand on the window and closed it. He stood talking

to Antoinette for a moment or two. She shook her head, and he turned

impatiently away. She left the window. The door sounded again, and Black

Michael closed the shutters.

“De Gautet, De Gautet, man!” sounded from the drawbridge. “Unless you

want a bath before your bed, come along!”

It was Rupert’s voice, coming from the end of the drawbridge. A moment

later he and De Gautet stepped out on the bridge. Rupert’s arm was

through De Gautet’s, and in the middle of the bridge he detained his

companion and leant over. I dropped behind the shelter of “Jacob’s

Ladder.”

Then Master Rupert had a little sport. He took from De Gautet a bottle

which he carried, and put it to his lips.

“Hardly a drop!” he cried discontentedly, and flung it in the moat.

It fell, as I judged from the sound and the circles on the water, within

a yard of the pipe. And Rupert, taking out his revolver, began to shoot

at it. The first two shots missed the bottle, but hit the pipe. The

third shattered the bottle. I hoped that the young ruffian would be

content; but he emptied the other barrels at the pipe, and one, skimming

over the pipe, whistled through my hair as I crouched on the other side.

“‘Ware bridge!” a voice cried, to my relief.

Rupert and De Gautet cried, “A moment!” and ran across. The bridge was

drawn back, and all became still. The clock struck a quarter-past one. I

rose and stretched myself and yawned.

I think some ten minutes had passed when I heard a slight noise to my

right. I peered over the pipe, and saw a dark figure standing in the

gateway that led to the bridge. It was a man. By the careless, graceful

poise, I guessed it to be Rupert again. He held a sword in his hand, and

he stood motionless for a minute or two. Wild thoughts ran through me.

On what mischief was the young fiend bent now? Then he laughed low

to himself; then he turned his face to the wall, took a step in my

direction, and, to my surprise, began to climb down the wall. In an

instant I saw that there must be steps in the wall; it was plain. They

were cut into or affixed to the wall, at intervals of about eighteen

inches. Rupert set his foot on the lower one. Then he placed his sword

between his teeth, turned round, and noiselessly let himself into the

water. Had it been a matter of my life only, I would have swum to

meet him. Dearly would I have loved to fight it out with him then and

there--with steel, on a fine night, and none to come between us. But

there was the King! I restrained myself, but I could not bridle my swift

breathing, and I watched him with the intensest eagerness.

He swam leisurely and quietly across. There were more steps up on

the other side, and he climbed them. When he set foot in the gateway,

standing on the drawn-back bridge, he felt in his pocket and took

something out. I heard him unlock the door. I could hear no noise of its

closing behind him. He vanished from my sight.

Abandoning my ladder--I saw I did not need it now--I swam to the side of

the bridge and climbed half way up the steps. There I hung with my sword

in my hand, listening eagerly. The duke’s room was shuttered and dark.

There was a light in the window on the opposite side of the bridge.

Not a sound broke the silence, till half-past one chimed from the great

clock in the tower of the chateau.

There were other plots than mine afoot in the Castle that night.