“He’d kill himself first – twice over.”
Mansel leaned forward.
“Exactly. And so I think we may take it that Cain will have his way. And if – say, on Thursday next – we are informed that, unless we return those papers, things will go hard with you…we shall have to return them. That wouldn’t mean that we should have to throw in our hand; but our strongest suit would be gone. So far we’ve been twisting their tails, to make them show fight. Once they do that, then we can really go in. The papers, of course, were a godsend. I’d never dreamed of such luck. And if we were to hand them back – well, Cain would be out of the country before we could think and Forecast and Co. would scatter like so many frightened curs. What the Duke would do, I don’t know; but he would not show fight. In fact, it boils down to this – that we might put Gulf and Boney where they belong, and possibly Forecast, too. But the two who deserve to suffer would probably go unscathed.”
There was another silence.
Then the Duchess spoke again.
“I feel outside all this, though I’m really in. I’ve lost my darling, but that is beside the point. What life might have held for us, I cannot tell. We were both beginning to see that we couldn’t go on as we were. John was all I had, and they – they put him to death. And I don’t think I should he human, if I didn’t want them punished for what they had done. But that, as I said just now, is beside the point. Why did you come into this? Not because of me; but because your sense of justice had to be served. A decent, fellow man had been done to death; and his blood cried out to you. And because of that you’re determined to bring his murderers down. And there I’d stand beside you, if I’d never set eyes on his face. One month of his life was worth all theirs put together, and if their death-warrants were before me, I’d sign the lot. Saul’s, too. I should have no compunction.” With a sudden, eloquent gesture, she pushed back her hair. “That sounds unnatural – smacks of Messalina, and women like that: but, except in the eyes of the law, I’m no more his wife than yours…
“On the evening of the day we were married, his mother came to my room and spoke these words. ‘Saul has made you his wife. He is your lord and master from this time on. He can do no wrong in your eyes, and you will do none in his.’ I thought she was out of her mind, and I went to Saul and told him what she had said. I shall never forget his reply. ‘That is the first of the lessons you have to learn. When you have got it by heart, she will teach you some more. But, in view of this episode, you had better know this at once – that, except in public, it is not for you to address me, unless I have first addressed you.’”
There was a pregnant silence. I know that I was trembling and Mansel was white to the lips.
The Duchess continued quietly.
“Twice I tried to run away. Each time I was caught and brought back. On the first occasion, all my pets were destroyed – my three hunters, both my dogs, even a canary I had, that used to sit on my hand and take seed from my lips. The second time, when I got back, every servant that I had found friendly had been dismissed. An old man and woman, for instance, had been given a lodge to keep. They had been in the service of Varvic for nearly sixty years. They used to pick me flowers from their garden, whenever I stopped to talk. These two were put in the street before I came back. That there might be no mistake, on my return, on my table, I found a typewritten list. All it said was:
During your Highness’ absence the following changes have been made in the staff:
Hans and Freda Gottlieb, lodge-keepers, dismissed.
“And so on. In all, there were seventeen names…”
She threw back her lovely head and covered her eyes.
“I despair of conveying to you what my life has been. It’s only by telling such tales that I stand any chance of making you understand. But I don’t want to seem unnatural… And yet, in another way, I daresay I am. I sometimes feel as though I were one of those things you leave under dripping water for them to be petrified. And, after four years, the process is nearing completion…”
After a little, I saw Mansel moisten his lips.
“I think,” he said quietly, “it’s time to arrest the process.”
“But how can I leave the castle? You’ve no idea…”
“You have left it,” said Mansel. “I suggest that you shouldn’t return.”
The Duchess started up to her feet.
“Not go back tonight? That’s hopeless.”
“Madam,” said Mansel, “if you go back tonight, you won’t set a foot outside Varvic, until those papers have passed. You’ll leave it then, of course, for your safe delivery here will be one of my terms.”
The Duchess put a hand to her head.
“Is that your belief? “ she said. “That I shall be used as a hostage?”
“It stands to reason,” said Mansel. “I’m an honest man, but it hits me between the eyes. Is it likely that Cain will miss it? Cain who, if rumour is true, is a very high priest of blackmail?”
“But how can I not go back?” She glanced at her wrist. “I ought to be going now.”
“Please understand this,” said Mansel. “No one in this house is going to force your hand. I’m going to make a suggestion. But if you turn it down, I’ll drive you back to your car, myself escort you to Varvic and see you inside.”
“May I hear your suggestion?”
“My suggestion is simply this – that the Duchess of Varvic should enter a nursing-home.”
“But not tonight?”
“Tonight.”
“But–”
“Please hear me out. There’s a nursing-home in Salzburg of high repute. The Englishwoman who runs it is a friend of a cousin of mine. I called upon her on Friday, and found her as nice as ever – and, I may say, just as much of a martinet. Visitors, for instance, who desire to see patients who are not fit to be seen, go empty away.
“Now, if, on your way home tonight, the coupé’s steering broke and you ran into a tree…and a passing motorist found you – unconscious, of course… I think he would drive you to Salzburg as fast as he could. I mean, that would be natural. Salzburg’s the nearest big town, and he wouldn’t know who you were or where you lived. Those things, of course, they’d find out at the nursing-home.
“The Press would very soon have it; but the Duke would have it at once. And he would have something else, for two can play at blackmail. He would have it in black and white that, if you were to leave that home, certain papers would immediately be laid before the British Consul.”
The Duchess took her seat upon the arm of a chair.
“That’s more than clever,” she said. “I should be suffering from shock.”
“That’s right,” said Mansel. “And you have to be careful of shocks. They lead to break-downs. Say ‘detained for ten days.’ And I think you’d like Mrs Lane.”
“But Saul–”
Here the door was opened, and George came into the room.
Mansel introduced him.
“The obstructionist?” said the Duchess, as George bowed over her hand.
“No,” said George. “The wrecker. It’ll take a break-down gang to clear your northern drive. You’ve no idea of the work which a drum of cold tar will do. I hope to God I never hit one. Nobody’s seriously hurt. Walking wounded, you know. Walking back to the castle in single file. In a silence that could be felt. But the Duke gave it up at last, and sent the big fellow on to turn out another car. You see, on leaving the
voiture
, they all stepped into the tar.” Mansel’s shoulders were shaking, and the Duchess began to laugh. “And tar is so – er – attractive. To put it shortly, they gathered where they had not strawed. After a quarter of a mile, each of their feet must have weighed about seven pounds.”
Mansel looked at the Duchess.
“You must admit,” he said, “that I’m very well served. I ask for a car to be delayed. I didn’t say for how long; but six minutes would have done. Hanbury puts it out for six weeks. And now what about my suggestion? If we are not to adopt it, I think we should be taking you back.”
“Give me five minutes, please. It’s a big decision to make.”
“Of course,” said Mansel, and stepped to the writing-desk…
No one of us spoke or moved for four or five minutes of time, but I saw that Mansel was writing – first with pencil and then with pen and ink. The Duchess sat still as death, with an elbow cupped in a palm and a hand to her mouth.
At length she rose, and Mansel got to his feet.
For a moment they faced each other.
Then—
“I have faith in your judgment,” she said. “Do you sincerely believe that, if I go back tonight, I shall be held as a hostage, until you return the papers which you have won?”
“I do.”
“And if they demand those papers, you mean to give them up?”
“In return for your delivery, safe and sound.”
“In that case, to go back seems madness.”
“It does. But please remember this. I haven’t got second sight, and I may be wrong.”
“I don’t think you are, somehow. All right. I’ll play. Stage your smash and take me off to the home.”
Mansel inclined his head.
Then—
“Tell me,” he said, “d’you set much store by the coupé?”
The Duchess shook her head.
“But oughtn’t I to be shaken? And bear some mark?”
Mansel smiled.
“I’ll see to that,” he said. “The last thing that you will remember is driving your car.”
We chose the Salzburg road.
Mansel preceded the coupé, driving the Rolls. And I followed on with the Lowland, with George by my side.
About thirty-five miles from Villach we stopped by the side of the way.
George and I alighted and walked to the coupé’s doors.
As the Duchess leaned forward—
“Goodbye for the moment,” I said. “I’m so very thankful you’ve taken Mansel’s advice.”
“Goodbye, Richard Chandos,” she said, and gave me her hand to kiss. Her fingers closed about mine… “You’ve been sweetness itself to me, and I’ll never forget. And now I’ll tell you a secret. I think I’m just about ripe for a nursing-home.”
“You don’t look it,” said I, “but you’re very likely right. And I hope to God it does you a world of good.”
Then she spoke very kindly to George, and he made her laugh. And then he, too, stood back…
“Drive slowly forward,” said Mansel, “and pass the Rolls.”
As she let in her clutch, he mounted the near side step and I mounted the off.
When we had passed the Rolls—
“Bear to the left,” said Mansel.
I put my arm into the car and took hold of the brake.
“Now put down your foot,” said Mansel – and flicked her under the chin.
With his words, I applied the brake, and the engine stopped.
Then we opened the doors, and Mansel and I together got the unconscious Duchess into my arms. I carried her to the Rolls, laid her upon the back-seat and covered her up. Then I got out of the car, and Mansel got in. Thirty seconds later, Carson was driving for Salzburg, and Mansel was sitting behind him, with his fingers about a slim wrist.
When I got back to the coupé, George had just turned her about. As soon as her wheels were quite straight, he slipped her gear into second and throttled her engine down. And then he got out and walked beside her, holding the steering-wheel.
When he had passed the Lowland—
“All clear,” said I, looking up and down the road.
George swung the wheel to the left. Then he threw open the throttle and let her go…
The coupé leapt forward…
Thirty yards farther on, she scrambled over the ditch and crashed into a tree. And her engine stopped.
(For what it was worth, the place and the way she was facing combined to insist that the Duchess was returning to Varvic – but not from the lane or the farm. Had she been on her way either to or from the lane or the farm, she would not have passed that place or been heading that way.)
As we turned away from the wreck—
“Pity,” said George: “but you ought to see the two-seater.”
“Tell me about it,” said I.
And as we drove for Varvic, he told me his tale.
“I don’t know what those drums weigh; but it cost us something to get one down to the dip. We rolled it as far as the woods – that was easy enough. But from there it had to be carried: that’s why I wanted Carson – to make up a four. The point is, we got it there. Whilst we were waiting for the coupé, we dammed the sides of the dip, so that any tar that emerged should stay in the road; and we cut a trough for the drum in the midst of the way. Well, at last the coupé went by, and quick as a flash we hoisted the drum into place. We didn’t leave it upright: we laid it down on its side, in such a way that the car would meet it end on. I’d already loosened the bungs, and I just had time to flick the two of them out…
“It was just round the bend, you know, and the chauffeur was driving fast and hadn’t a chance. He applied his brakes all right, and that probably saved their lives: but he hit it fair and square, as I meant him to. The result was catastrophic. Saul met the windscreen, the chauffeur’s face met the wheel, and the valet behind was chucked over on to their heads. He’s no featherweight, that wallah, and, quarters being close, the most fearful confusion reigned for some thirty seconds of time. The three seemed to writhe together, cursing and grunting and heaving, to beat the band. Then Saul forced open his door and fairly erupted into four inches of tar. The others of course followed suit: and the valet slipped and fell; so he was all over tar by the time he got up.
“At last they were all three clear, and the valet produced a torch. But he couldn’t make it work, because of the tar on his hands; and Saul snatched it out of his grasp and, finding it all sticky, immediately let it fall. The chauffeur found it at last, and they had a look at themselves. It’s as well they hadn’t a mirror… Saul’s nose was twice life-size and his mouth stuck out like some Triton’s, blowing a horn. And his clothes will have to be cleaned. The chauffeur took one look and then went down on his knees, but the big wallah kicked him up, and they all set off.
“As I’ve told you, each step they took, they collected more of the world, and presently Saul gave in and sat down by the side of the drive. By his orders the others went on and after about half an hour another chauffeur appeared with a small motor-van.