By Wit of Woman by Arthur W. Marchmont (best book reader txt) 📖

and I to fetch Colonel Katona to join him.

When they had driven off I went back into the room and sat down feeling dreary and anguish-sick. I was tired out, I told myself; but no bodily weariness could account for the ache in my heart. I had succeeded in all far beyond my expectations; had won my victory with Karl; I was almost within sight of the goal which had seemed impossible of attainment only a few days before. I had every reason to rejoice and be glad; and yet I laid my head on my arms on the table feeling more desolate, sorrow-laden, and solitary than ever in all my life before.

My servant roused me.

"What is it, James?"

"Is there anything I can do for you, miss? I knocked five times before you heard me. Can I get you something?"

"No, thank you, James. I am only tired and am going to bed. Stay up until your father comes back with the carriage. Then go to bed yourself, but let him sit up for the rest of the night. I shall sleep more soundly if I know some one is watching. You must be up early, as I shall need you."

I yawned as if I were very sleepy—one has to keep one's end up, even before one's servants—and bade him good-night. I was turning from the room when my eye chanced on the ribbon favour which Karl had left lying there.

Fortunately James had left the room; for the sight of it struck all thought of pretence out of my mind. I was very silly; but it seemed in an instant to rouse a vivid living consciousness of all that I had voluntarily given up, and yet might have retained by a mere word.

I was only a girl then indeed; and the tears came rushing to my eyes and set the little ribbon dancing and quivering and trembling in my sight.

I dashed them away and, thrusting the little mocking token into my bosom, I ran out of the room as hurriedly as though I were rushing to escape from the sad thoughts of that other Christabel of whom Karl had spoken.

CHAPTER XIX A TRAGI-COMEDY

The following morning found me in a saner mood once more, and I lay for an hour thinking and planning.

I hold that there are narcotics for mental pain just as for physical; and if the mind is healthy and the will resolute, one can generally be found. I had to find one then.

I did not make the mistake of attempting to underrate my loss. I knew I had had to give up what I prized more than anything in life. I loved Karl with my whole heart; I knew indeed that I had never ceased to love him. The sweetest future which Fate could have offered me would have been to pass life by his side as his wife.

But the pain of knowing that this was impossible was now mingled with other emotions which tended to relieve it. There is always a pleasure in self-sacrifice, no matter how dear the thing renounced. I found a sort of subtle comfort now in the thought that I had been strong enough to do the right thing; to put away from me firmly the delights I would have given half my life to enjoy; to act from a higher motive than mere personal desire.

The sense of self-denial was thus my mental narcotic; and I sought with all my strength to dwell upon the intense gratification of the knowledge that I had been instrumental in helping Karl at the crucial crisis of his life. His country had need of him; and that he would now play his part manfully, would be in a degree my work. That was my consolation.

I could claim truthfully that no selfish motives had swayed me. The clearance of my father's good name had ceased now to be more than a solemn duty to him. The loss of Karl had rendered me indifferent to any considerations merely personal to myself.

In regard to Gareth, too, my chief desire was to see justice done her. Accident, or perhaps rather Fate, had put into my hands the weapons with which to fight the man who was menacing both her and me; and I could claim to have made no selfish use of them. The thought of her brought back with it the necessity to gather up the threads and carry my purpose to success. The end was not far off now.

I had first to anticipate what Count Gustav would do after the stroke he had meant to deal the previous night. I was convinced that he had plotted nothing less than that Colonel Katona should kill Karl under the belief that he had wronged Gareth.

I could follow the steps which had led to this. When, at Madame d'Artelle's, I had let Count Gustav see the Colonel alone, he had given a false message that I would send the information. Having thus prepared him to expect news, he had written him in my name that the man who had wronged Gareth was about to marry another woman, and had given such details of the elopement as would enable the Colonel to witness it and thus identify the man he sought.

This explained something that had puzzled me—why the pretence of the elopement had been persisted in when my apparent departure had destroyed the necessity for any such secrecy. The elopement had become a vital part of the subtle scheme to reveal Gareth's betrayer to her father.

Then to give countenance to it all, Count Gustav had sent as if from me the letter of Gareth's which the Colonel had brought with him and given to me. I read it now. It was to Count von Ostelen, of course; and in it Gareth poured out her tender heart to the husband she knew and addressed as Karl.

It was a cunningly planned scheme; and had Madame d'Artelle really come to the villa, it would almost certainly have succeeded. But the question now was—What would be Count Gustav's next move?

He would believe that Karl was dead—assassinated by the Colonel in his frenzy. That started another suggestion. If murder had been done, all in the house would have been implicated; and Count Gustav was quite capable of using the deed for a further purpose. He would have had the Colonel arrested for the murder and so prevented from causing further trouble; and he would also have got rid of Madame d'Artelle, the accomplice he had used for his brother's undoing, by charging her with complicity in the crime. His path would then have been free indeed.

He had frightened me away from the city, as he believed; and if I ever returned it would be only to find everything buried in that secrecy which those in power and high places know how to secure.

What would he do when he came to the house and found me there alone and helpless to resist him? I could not doubt for an instant. I should be arrested on some charge and shut up until I disclosed to him Gareth's whereabouts and everything I knew of the matter.

I would act on that presumption—except that I would force his hand in one direction and safeguard myself in another.

I rose and dressed myself hurriedly. I knew Madame d'Artelle's handwriting, and with great pains I imitated it as closely as I could in a brief, but to him very significant note.

"For Heaven's sake come here at once. A terrible thing has happened. I am beside myself with horror.

"HENRIETTE D'ARTELLE."

The writer's distracted state of mind would account for any discrepancies in the handwriting; and I succeeded at the third or fourth attempt in producing something like a resemblance to her signature.

This letter I sent by James Perry; and with it another to General von Erlanger.

I gave him the address, "Unter den Linden," and wrote:—

"I shall probably be in great danger here at about eleven o'clock this morning. Will you be near this house at that time so that at need the servant who brings this may find you and bring you to me. You will please know nothing except that you have been asked to come to your former governess who is in trouble.

"Your friend who trusts in you,
    "CHRISTABEL VON DRESCHLER."

I told James to get an answer from his Excellency; and despatched him upon his errand at an hour which I calculated would bring Count Gustav to the house by about ten o'clock. I allowed an hour for the interview to reach the crisis to which I intended to work.

In the meanwhile, I told the elder Perry to drive to my own house and ascertain that all was well with Gareth.

Then I went into the room in which Colonel Katona had been and pulled down the blinds, closed the shutters and drew the curtains so that it should be as dark as possible; and coming out locked the door behind me and put the key in my pocket.

Having thus set matters in train I sat down and made an excellent breakfast, anticipating considerable enjoyment from the little comedy I had designed.

I was going to fool Count Gustav and then anger and mystify him. He was, I knew, a dangerous person to play tricks with; but I had no cause to be afraid of him. I was quite prepared to be arrested, and I wished to lull his suspicions and foster his over-confidence.

Thinking things over, another point occurred to me. If the two Perrys remained in the house, they would be arrested with me. Therefore, when the father returned with the good news that all was well with Gareth, I sent him home at once and told him not to come back.

James Perry arrived just before ten o'clock. He brought me a very satisfactory assurance that the General would do just as I asked; and said that the Count Gustav had told him he would come to the house immediately.

"Now, James, things are going to happen here this morning," I said, explaining an idea which had occurred to me. "I shall probably be arrested, and you will share that arrest if you are in the house. You are a very shrewd, quick-witted fellow, and you must manage not to be seen, but to remain near enough to the front of the house to hear a window broken. I may not be able to show myself at the window and signal to you; but I am sure to be able to manage to throw something through the window; and the moment you hear the crash of the glass, you are to fetch General von Erlanger to me, and then hurry off to my house."

I calculated that it would be a very simple matter for me to pretend to fly into a passion at the moment of any crisis, and to so work myself up that it would seem a natural enough thing for me to hurl something solid at Gustav and, missing him, to break the window. Hooked round for a suitable missile, and selected a very solid glass ink bottle.

Count Gustav kept his word and arrived a few minutes after I had sent James Perry away. I had left the front door partly open, so that he might not have to ask for Madame d'Artelle; and he walked right in, tried the door of the room I had locked, and then entered that where I was waiting for him.

His surprise at seeing me was complete. Had I been a ghost, he could not have stared at me in greater amazement.

"Good-morning, Count Gustav, I am glad you have come."

"Where is Madame d'Artelle?" he asked, very sharply.

"It is scant courtesy not to return my greeting. You are probably so surprised as to forget your manners. You had better find her for yourself," and affecting irritation, I turned away and picked up a book.

"Good-morning, Miss—what name shall I use now?" he replied with a sneer.

"You may