Princess Maritza Page 7

  “No, my lord, but yours is. The lady at present in Australia, or wherever she may be, is not the Princess, but a substitute. It needs very powerful friends to carry through such a deception as that.”

  Lord Cloverton turned sharply toward him, and, as Francois had done, De

  Froilette answered the unasked question.

  “Yes, my lord; Princess Maritza is in Sturatzberg.”

  “Hiding where?”

  “That I do not know. You will doubtless take means to find out. Command me if I can help you in any way.”

  “I thank you for the information. If you are not mistaken, the wayward child has been very ill advised. I gather, monsieur, that your business affairs would suffer were such a thing as a rising in the Princess Maritza's favor to take place?”

  “Have I not said that there is a selfish vein in all of us?”

  Lord Cloverton smiled, and together they crossed the vestibule.

  Their short colloquy had not been overheard, nor had their presence been particularly noticed there except by one person—the Countess Mavrodin. She had reached the head of the stairs as De Froilette had leaned confidentially forward toward the Ambassador, and she hastily greeted a friend, keeping her standing at the top of the stairs while they talked. She had good reason to be curious regarding such a confidence between two such men, and while she laughed and talked she watched them. She did not move until they had crossed the vestibule, and when they separated she followed Lord Cloverton.

  Desmond Ellerey met her and found her in a gracious mood.

  “Have I quite pardoned you for mistaking me for another woman that night in the Altstrasse?” she said gayly.

  “I hope so; indeed, I thought so.”

  “I am sorry. I ought to have reserved some of my displeasure.”

  “Why?”

  “So that I might demand a favor.”

  “You have but to demand, Countess.”

  “Then stay with me and keep me near Lord Cloverton,” she said.

  “What! Has he incurred your displeasure, too?”

  “Must I give reasons for my demand?”

  “No.”

  “Then you trust me?”

  “As I would trust any woman.”

  For a moment she seemed satisfied, and then she turned toward him.

  “Is there a meaning underneath that? Do you trust no woman?”

  “I have learnt my lessons in a hard school, Countess. I trust few, either men or women, and I have more knowledge of men than women.” They followed Lord Cloverton across the rooms, and she noticed every one to whom he spoke. Presently he stood to watch the dancing for a moment, but he seemed to avoid any person who might detain him in conversation for any length of time.

  “I think the Ambassador will leave early to-night,” the Countess said. “May I beg another favor, Captain Ellerey? Will you see that my carriage is ready waiting for me?”

  Ellerey went to do her bidding, wondering why she was watching the Ambassador so keenly. It took him some time to find her servants, and as he returned he met Lord Cloverton. With the slightest of recognitions the Ambassador got into his carriage.

  “The Embassy, quickly,” he said.

  Countess Mavrodin came down the stairs as Lord Cloverton drove away.

  “I thank you,” she said. “I have a habit of remembering favors.”

  “I shall remember that you have said so,” Ellerey answered. “Indeed, I can even now ask one. Only this afternoon Lord Cloverton was pleased to tell me that he looked upon me as an enemy. Should you discover anything which might affect me, will you tell me?”

  “He said you were an enemy; then I am not suspicious in vain. Yes, I will tell you if I can. One word, monsieur. You neither trust women nor men, so perchance the warning is unnecessary; but of all men at least distrust one—Jules De Froilette.”

  “Did her Majesty bid you give me that message?” Ellerey asked.

  “No, monsieur; it is an original idea. I have ideas of my own sometimes. I have one now. If you are leaving the palace, I will drive you to the Western Gate.” She was pretty, and Ellerey was only human. Strictly speaking, his duty was to remain, lest the Queen should send for him; but he helped the Countess into her carriage and seated himself beside her. She refused to be serious as they drove through the city, and when Ellerey entered his lodging he was left to wonder at what point the incidents of the evening touched his mission. Why should the Countess become suddenly interested in the movements of Lord Cloverton? and since she was closely attached to the Queen, why should she warn him against De Froilette, who was also deep in her Majesty's confidence? The problem was beyond his power to solve.

  Frina Mavrodin was a far more important person in Sturatzberg than Ellerey imagined. It was not only at Court that she was popular; she was besides the Lady Bountiful to the poor. She was immensely wealthy, and her beautiful home by the river, in the southwest of the city, had been called the beggars' paradise, for those who asked charity were seldom sent away empty. The general criticism of her was that she was a pretty woman, very adorable, a little frivolous perhaps, and possessed of much more heart than head. She seemed to take delight in such criticism, and to be at some pains to fully merit it. But there was another side to her character which few persons ever got even a glimpse of. Her profound knowledge of current politics would have startled Lord Cloverton, and her capacity for intrigue and scheming would have astonished even Monsieur De Froilette into admiration. There were few clubs and societies in Sturatzberg, where discontent was fostered and secret plans discussed, which were not known to Frina Mavrodin. She was conversant with their secret signs, their aims, and their means, and knew by sight most of their influential members. A single word from her would have sent many a man to prison who walked the streets freely. Perhaps, in all Sturatzberg, there was only one person who gave her credit for such knowledge, and who was content to be guided in some measure by her advice.

  This person, at present, occupied a suite of rooms in Frina Mavrodin's house, and this evening she reclined at full length among the cushions of a low couch, and watched a door at one end of the room expectantly. Her hand was stretched out to a bowl of flowers on a table by her side, and she plucked a petal at intervals which she crushed and let fall. Something of the girl's character seemed to be in the action. She was not weary, not worn out with the day's work or pleasure, whichever it might have been, but was waiting anxiously, irritably even, for news, or for someone's coming. Her hair had loosened by contact with the cushions, and fell about her shoulders in luxuriant copper-colored tresses. Presently the door opened, and an elderly woman entered—an English woman, plain in feature and resolute in manner.

  “You have been spoiling your flowers,” she said, seeing the scattered petals on the carpet.

  “Never mind them. Has Dumitru come, Hannah?” “Just come.”

  “Then bring him in, bring him in. Why do you wait?” exclaimed the girl, half-rising from her reclining position. “I cannot afford to have fools about me in such times as these.”

  “You haven't,” the woman answered bluntly, evidently quite used to the petulant moods of her mistress. “I was one when I came out of Devon to a heathen place like this; but that time is past.” And she went to the door and beckoned to a man to come in. As he entered she went out, closing the door behind her. When she had gone the man dropped swiftly on one knee by the couch.

  “Well, Dumitru?”

  “He returned to-day,” said the man, rising and standing erect. “He went straight to the lodging of this English Captain.”

  “And then?”

  “To Court, Princess.”

  “And his mission, Dumitru—was it in my interests, think you?”

  The man made a fierce clicking sound with his tongue.

  “Ah, no, no, no; and again a hundred times, no. He is for the Queen a little, and for himself very much. Have you still a doubt, even now? A sudden death should be his reward.”

  “Patience, Dumit
ru.”

  “The English Captain had another visitor to-day—the British Minister.”

  “This English Captain is in great requisition, it would seem,” she said.

  “Aye, he is a man, I grant you that—strong, resolute, and rides as though horse and rider were one piece.”

  “And honest, Dumitru. I have looked into his face and thought him so.”

  “Can one judge so easily?” asked the man. “Besides, honest or not, he is for our enemies.”

  “Our enemies must be swept aside,” she said imperiously, as though not only the will, but the power to do so were hers.

  “Thus, Princess,” and the man's dark eyes gleamed as he just showed the keen, thin blade of a dagger which he carried in his cloak.

  “Not without my command, Dumitru,” she said hastily. The man bowed low, disappointed perhaps that the same spirit was not in her as was in him.

  “We may use this English Captain for our ends,” she went on. “I have a way and you shall help me, Dumitru, when the time comes. That Lord Cloverton has visited him shows that some new pressure is to be brought to bear upon him. We shall see how he stands in this, whether firm or not, and may learn how to act ourselves.”

  “He is ready to act when the token is given him,” said Dumitru. “He has a few desperate men who are pledged to his service.”

  “You are sure of this?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “Who will follow for love of him?” she asked.

  “They are of the kind who follow more readily for money,” answered the man.

  The girl remained thoughtful for a few moments. Something in the man's information had set her thoughts running in a new channel, and while she mused Frina Mavrodin entered the room hurriedly.

  Dumitru bowed low before her.

  “You are early,” said the Princess.

  Frina turned to Dumitru.

  “Captain Ellerey has returned early to his lodging, too; it would be well to watch. I do not think it will happen to-night, but should any messenger seek him we must know at once.”

  “Go, Dumitru,” said the Princess, and when he had gone she turned to her companion: “What has brought you home so early?”

  “You, Maritza. I wondered whether you had remained safely here, or whether you had again jeopardized your cause by going so openly into the streets. It is known that you are in Sturatzberg.” “By whom?”

  “That lynx-eyed servant of De Froilette's saw you, as you know. You thought he would believe himself mistaken, but I knew better. His master returned to-day, and to-night I found Monsieur De Froilette and Lord Cloverton in confidential conversation. When two men who hate each other as they do, agree, it is time to prepare for the storm. You must remain an absolute prisoner here for a while.”

  “I am tired of inactivity.”

  “You will not have to wait long,” Frina answered. “Within an hour, I warrant you, there will be spies out in every quarter of the city to try and find your hiding-place. You are safe so long as you remain here. What an advantage it is to have such a reputation for empty-headedness as I have. No doubt De Froilette played a trump card in telling Lord Cloverton of your presence in Sturatzberg. The task of finding you will occupy the Minister's attention for a little while, and if De Froilette is ready, he will seize the opportunity to strike his blow. That is why I offered to drive Captain Ellerey to his lodging. If the token is to be given to-night he will not be there to receive it.”

  “It may be sent to him,” said the Princess.

  “That is why Dumitru watches by the Western Gate.”

  “The moment the token is given I must know,” said Maritza. “I have a plan. I have had plenty of lonely hours in which to mature plans. I am longing to put them into action. We are too cautious, Frina.”

  “Your want of caution in going openly into the city has nearly ruined us, Maritza.”

  “I have many friends in the city.”

  “True, and many enemies; and it is the enemies who happen to be in power. Do not be impatient.” “Over-caution may be as fatal as impatience,” Maritza answered. “We should advance a step each day, each night; do we advance?”

  “So fast that we shall have to run quickly to keep abreast of affairs shortly. A few weeks ago had you any real hope of being in Sturatzberg? Yet you are here. Had you even a suspicion that Jules De Froilette had been working in his own interests for these two years past, and not in yours?”

  “True, Frina, we have advanced. Heaven help De Froilette when I touch power. Who knows what injury he may not have done to my cause in these two years? And he has succeeded in drawing this English Captain into his schemes.”

  “Captain Ellerey does not like De Froilette,” said Frina. “Tell me your plan, Maritza.”

  The Princess drew a flower carefully from the bowl and held it to her face, as though she were absorbed for a moment in its beauty and fragrance.

  “Captain Ellerey left the Court with you, to-night,” she said. “That was wisely thought of. Did he come willingly?”

  Frina laughed, such a joy in the laugh that the Princess looked at her in astonishment.

  “Yes, he came willingly, most willingly, I think.”

  “You hope to win him to my cause?”

  “He is a man, I am a woman; I shall try.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, Maritza—ah, we run on too fast. Tell me your plan.”

  “It is strange,” said the Princess slowly; “but in England, as I told you, I once met Captain Ellerey. I told him who I was, and promised him work for his sword should he ever come to Wallaria.” “You told him that! Why?”

  “I am a woman, and he is a man,” the Princess answered.

  For a moment the two women looked into each other's eyes. Then Frina, looked down and straightened a fold of her dress, while Maritza bent to inhale the perfume of the flowers in the vase. The Princess did not tell her plan, and Frina Mavrodin forgot to question her.

  CHAPTER VII. THE TIME ARRIVES

  Within a short time of Lord Cloverton's return to the Embassy, spies and secret-service agents were abroad in the city endeavoring to discover the whereabouts of Princess Maritza. The Ambassador at once telegraphed to the Foreign Office in London, and received the answer that the report of her return to Wallaria was absurd, that she was certainly on her way to Australia. This confident answer, however, did not satisfy Lord Cloverton, in spite of the fact that no news of the Princess was forth coming. That she could have returned to Sturatzberg without his knowledge, more, without the knowledge of any of those who were so eager to keep her out of the country, seemed impossible; but then in diplomacy it was often the impossible things which happened. He was too astute a man to underrate the undoubted ability of De Froilette. There were few men who probed more accurately the likely trend of future events, or who were quicker to recognize opportunities and seize them than the Frenchman, and Lord Cloverton argued that he was far too clever a man to tell such an unlikely story merely to serve his own ends. He would know that the very improbability of the tale would have the effect of drawing attention to himself and his actions. No, whether the report were true or not, De Froilette believed it, and evidently saw danger to himself in the presence of Princess Maritza. At the same time he might perceive a favorable opportunity in the state of affairs to exploit his own plans, and Lord Cloverton took the precaution to have the Frenchman under careful observation.

  The unexpected information had also caused the Ambassador to reconsider Captain Ellerey's position in Sturatzberg. It was quite possible that he knew more about the Princess than any one else. He was the kind of man who would have nerve and determination enough to attempt a desperate venture, and having little to lose and all to win, might go far toward success. He and De Froilette apparently held little communication with each other; the characteristics of the two men were antagonistic; and the Englishman might be quite as capable of playing a deep game as the Frenchman was.

  It was a sleepless n
ight for the Ambassador. This was just such a complication as might embroil the nations of Europe in strife, an excuse which might serve to snap diplomatic relations and spread the lurid clouds of war from the Ural range to the shores of the Atlantic. One thing seemed certain, De Froilette had not repeated his information broadcast. No intimation reached Lord Cloverton that the report had even been whispered in any of the other Embassies, and there was some consolation in this.

  No news came during the following day. Wherever the Princess was, her secret was well kept, probably because only a few persons had been admitted into it, and it seemed evident that no special movement had taken place in her favor, or had even been arranged for. Some bold coup d'etat might be in contemplation, and although the many and diverse interests in the country were probably sufficient to render any attempt abortive in itself, yet such an attempt might be the one thing needed to fan the smouldering ashes into flame, starting a conflagration which would burn throughout Europe. Such fires never die out—they are always smouldering.

  Any person who had watched Lord Cloverton closely when he went to the palace that night, would have been struck by his particular alertness. He was observant of the composition of the different groups in the rooms, of those who were chiefly about her Majesty, and of those who danced together. The slightest confidential whisper near him attracted his attention, and more than once he caused a blush to mount to a pretty woman's cheeks by suddenly surprising a murmured love passage meant for no other ears but her own. To those to whom he spoke he succeeded in giving the impression that he had only a few moments to spare them, that he was purposely keeping himself free, but he managed to suggest that it was not business, but some pleasure he anticipated.

  He glanced round all the rooms in search of Captain Ellerey, who either had not yet arrived, or had already retired into some quiet corner, probably with the Countess Mavrodin. The last conjecture was wrong, however, for standing in a position which commanded the entrance to the suite of state rooms, the Ambassador presently saw Frina Mavrodin on the arm of an attache of the Austrian Embassy, an offshoot of a princely house who, rumor said, had already been twice refused by the fair lady, and was only awaiting an opportunity to adventure his case for a third time. He was evidently persuading her to dance with him, and she was laughingly protesting, perhaps promising to do so later in the evening. She was, however, not averse to his company, for she palpably kept him by her side, and they remained talking and laughing together, the man extremely happy, the woman watchful and rather preoccupied, the Ambassador thought.