Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch by Davis Brinton
VI
THE GRAY MAN AGAIN
"Which wye?" asked Carrick who, having started the auto, kept his eyessteadily on the road in front of him and shot the question over hisshoulder.
"Straight ahead. The lady is unconscious again."
This was true, for as they entered the car Carter had been just in timeto catch the Lady Trusia in his arms as she toppled forward in a suddenreturn of the fainting spell.
"Why not back to the inn, sir?"
Carrick's suggestion betrayed that he shared his companion's concern forHer Grace of Schallberg.
"I'd rather not. We are not popular there and I feel present conditionswould hardly increase their friendship. We'll try the castle. I fancythat's her home, anyhow."
He glanced up to where, distinctly outlined, its towers in the clouds,they beheld the grim structure, recognizable from its significantlocation as the one they had espied from the thither side of the forest.
"Where's the wye to it?" The chauffeur was puzzled, for straight beforethem the cliff ran perpendicular to the side of the road, without anapparent break. "Must be on the other side, sir, for blyme it's not onthis."
"More speed then, Carrick. This faint promises to last awhile."
Carter bent over the unconscious Trusia, and, as he noted the powerfuleffort of her strong soul to beat off the paralysis of the senses, athrill of tenderness shot through him.
For a man with Calvert Carter's strength of character to hold abeautiful girl in his arms it would be inevitable that a certain senseof ownership should subconsciously mingle with his thoughts of her. Thegerm of love may be discovered in propinquity.
Be that as it may, as the lax slender form in his arms set his heartbeating wildly, he was tempted to crush her to his breast and to presshis lips savagely, yearningly, upon her tender mouth. Then, in reaction,her helplessness appealed to him and aroused all the chivalry of hisnature. For less than the space of a sigh the primitive savage withinhim had struggled with the gentleman,--and the gentleman had won. Thisvery conflict with himself, however, had increased though it hadchastened his desire. The more personal concern he now felt for herrecovery was but another expression of the primal instinct dignified bydiscipline.
Meanwhile the touring car had been lurching forward with increasingacceleration for more than a quarter of a mile, when, surprising themagreeably, the cliff apparently opened, showing a narrow way cut throughits face, leading directly up to the castle. Before the distant portal agroup of horsemen could be seen making preparations for departure.
"Evidently a relief party. That riderless horse of hers must havereturned and started an alarm."
"They see us, sir," said Carrick, who had brought the machine to a stop."They're pulling up. It's a good thing, as there's barely room for me torun the car up, without their crowding the road."
So saying he carefully swung into the narrow way and soon accomplishedthe ascent. Passing under a portcullis as mediaeval as that of anyRhenish castle, they stopped in an ancient, stone-flagged courtyard. Onevery side, thronging about them, they met the vengeful, scowling eyesof men in a frenzy of fear and hate, while a growling murmur ofresentment greeted their ears as the mob recognized their liege ladyapparently dead in the arms of a stranger. To their discipline assoldiers, for these men wore uniforms similar to those seen already atthe inn, the two adventurers probably owed salvation from instantdismemberment. In their faces Calvert Carter read the unreasoning furyof their souls, experiencing his nearest approach to fear, yet he metthem eye for eye.
Standing apart, his handsome boyish head hung in shame, as if ostracizedfor incompetency, stood a young fellow whom Carter recognized as theescort of the Lady Trusia. His face was pale and dejected. Apparentlyunaware of the presence of the strangers, he was fingering his revolverholster.
The heavy gate closed behind them with an ominous clang. A chill randown Carter's spine. If bad came to worst he resolved to sell his lifedearly, for murder electrified the air and was closing in around themfrom every side.
A wicket suddenly opened in the studded door of the castle before them.Two men stepped through it upon the broad flat stone of its only step.
Both were past middle age but vigorous looking. The first standing infront of and obscuring his companion was evidently a personage ofexalted rank. His hair and long mustachios were silvery white, and theglance he shot from under his heavy brows was keen and comprehensive. Heseemed a man accustomed to both camp and court. One glance at hiscarriage would have shown to the merest tyro that he was a soldier evenhad he not worn a black hussar uniform. He looked coldly around upon theimpassioned throng which was quieted by the steely glitter in hisdisdainful eyes, and then, turning, said something to the abashedequerry. Without remonstrance, the young fellow drew out his revolverand handed it to a sergeant who immediately pocketed it.
Having quieted the disturbance, he for the first time became aware ofits cause. A cry of mingled grief and rage burst from his lips. Hestarted impulsively forward, fumbling at his sword hilt, but hiscompanion laid a restraining hand upon his arm, coming into full viewfor the first time.
It was no other than the Gray Man of the inn, who now, with bent headand most deferential manner, addressed a few whispered words to theelderly noble. After a brief, inaudible conference the two descendedfrom the step to advance through the menacing throng toward theautomobile.
Mechanically, Carter, reaching back his free hand, opened the door atthe back of the car. The veteran stopped within touching distance, notdeigning to notice the action of invitation, and held out imperativearms for the young Duchess.
His voice rasped harshly on the hot courage of the American. "Canaille,"he blurted apoplectically, "how dared you run down Her Grace with yourcursed car? Your touch profanes her person. Surrender her instantly."
It was a blow in the face to Carter.
Though his blood was boiling, respect for the age of the man whoaddressed him restrained Calvert from voicing the hot retort whichsprang to his lips or striking his adversary to the ground. His handsopened and closed tensely as he kept himself in check. Disregarding thecurt command, Carter, still holding Trusia in his arms, leaped lightlyfrom the car and would have carried her into the castle had not theelderly soldier barred his way. With face crimson every glistening hairseemed to flash the lightning of his unspeakable rage at suchpresumption.
"Monsieur," said Carter with level eyes, "let me pass. The lady is tooill for us to be bandying words. You are too old and too well supportedfor me to hope to obtain adequate satisfaction for your insult."
The other did not budge from the path, but reached out a peremptory handwhich he laid on Trusia's shoulder.
"Give her to me, sir," he insisted, ignoring Carter's remarks entirely.
The Gray Man rubbed his hands together in open delight at the disfavorthe two strangers were incurring and his cynical smile grew more evidentevery moment.
While an eye might wink the primitive man awoke in Calvert. He wasprompted to fight for the woman he held as he stood measuring glanceswith his peremptory adversary. Then the folly of such resistance came tohis mind, so with a sigh and a frown he permitted the other to take herfrom his arms. As he did so he felt not only that something intangible,delectable had been loosened from his clasp, but that its relinquishmenthad caused the life blood to move more sluggishly in his breast.
"We're up against it," whispered Carrick, who descending from the carhad placed himself at his master's elbow for such eventualities as mightarise.
Seemingly fearful of a conference between the two, the Gray Man gave asudden order. Six men leaped from the hostile circle, and before therewas an opportunity for resistance, Carter and Carrick were thrown to theground and their arms were tightly bound to their sides.
The mocking face of the Gray Man regarded them as he bent over Carter'sprostrate form.
"Get up," he said, touching the American ever so slightly with his toe.
"You shall pay for this," said the outra
"I am not indebted to you," was the sneering rejoinder, as, with theslightest of gestures, he intimated that the prisoners were to beconducted into the castle, through whose portal Her Grace of Schallbergwas already being carried by the plethoric nobleman.