The Secret of the Silver Car by Wyndham Martyn (snow like ashes series .TXT) 📖

No mail was ever entrusted to the Temesvar servants. Even what was sent to Agram was sealed so that the post master alone or his assistant could unlock the bag.

In the same secluded dell of the forest Trent opened the bag a second time and read the message addressed to the Earl of Rosecarrel. “I am informed,” it said, “that you have accepted office. Deny this rumor instantly. Affirmation means danger to you. Michael Temesvar.”

Trent chuckled. Things were beginning to move. Of late he had found his occupation boring. It seemed he was always acting as a mail carrier chosen over Sissek because he made so much better time. He had no chance at golf. Pauline was away. Hentzi told him so one day when he had driven three ladies up from Fiume and learned they were all high-born and that for a time the company at the castle was distinguished.

“You would not understand what I meant,” Hentzi said loftily, “if I told you many important things are going on. When our guests have gone there may be those of Pauline’s sort you may drive from Fiume. Then the air is different. For myself I prefer such company as we have at present.”

“The lords and ladies?” Trent said remembering that he had seen Hentzi acting as a sort of upper servant at such a dinner.

“Exactly,” Hentzi agreed. “Pauline had been ill advised enough to disobey the count. There is a guest who admired her.”

“Why didn’t the guv’nor biff him one same as he does you when he’s mad?” Trent demanded.

“There are some to whom even Count Michael may offer no violence,” Hentzi returned in a shocked voice. “But you would not understand.”

On the whole Anthony Trent was glad that the prince had been the cause of the temporary removal of Pauline. She was a menace to him. Also he rejoiced to think that the arbitrary Michael Temesvar had his own uneasy moments.

Because Anthony Trent was more concerned in the successful outcome of his present design than any other of his adventurous career he denied himself the pleasure of those nocturnal wanderings in the castle corridors and rooms. So that he might make Daphne happy by delivering her father from, bondage he decided to take no risks which might lead to his capture. Particularly he wanted to secrete himself among the trees in green tubs and flowers of the courtyard. Although it was not to his immediate advantage to learn of the plotting which was going on under the roof which sheltered him a knowledge of it promised some interesting developments in the future.

But now that the exchange of telegrams commenced between the two old adversaries he found excitement enough in going to Agram and opening the wires. Lord Rosecarrel, he found, had acted on his instructions. He affirmed his intention to take office and when he received another more threatening telegram from Count Michael declared that he knew the treaty was not in his possession.

Count Michael’s anger was reflected in the face of each scurrying servant of the many with whom Trent came into contact. Hentzi visited it vicariously upon one Alfred Anthony until that bellicose chauffeur reminded him that the fate of Peter Sissek was his for the asking. Later Hentzi grew confidential. He had the impression that this humble member of a dominant people looked up to him for his world knowledge and in order to impress Alfred Anthony the more made indiscreet revelations which were duly stored in the careful retentive memory of Anthony Trent.

It was from Hentzi that Trent learned of the sudden trip of their common employer to London.

“It is most inconvenient for us both,” said the secretary, “For the count that he should have to leave his guests and for me that I should have to entertain them in his absence.”

“I thought you liked the company of lords and ladies,” Alfred Anthony said in simple tribute to his companion’s parts.

“There is responsibility you could not comprehend,” Hentzi returned, and left Trent to think over his plans.

So far things had travelled evenly. The test was now to come. He was reasonably certain that when Count Michael set out for London he would have in his possession the draft of the treaty. With this he would confront a prime minister and possibly the entire cabinet. He knew well of Buchanan’s dislike of Lord Rosecarrel. Had Anthony Trent been in the count’s place he would never have committed the error of taking so important a document with him. Trent invariably mailed what he had taken to himself and breathed freer when the responsibility was on another’s shoulders. This, of course, only when a long journey was to be made. When he had stolen the Mount Aubyn ruby in San Francisco he had mailed it to his camp in Maine and thus confounded detectives who had searched his apartment.

That Count Michael had not adopted this plan he knew because for the past week he alone had fetched and carried mail matter. The time he had taken in opening the mails had to be made up by faster travelling and the Lion engine never failed him. The peasants used to point out the racing car with pride and give him road room gladly. On those tablets of memory he inscribed many interesting details that occurred in letters written by other than the count. He could read in French, German, Italian and Spanish and the letters which most interested him were in German.

Sometimes in the lonely night he wondered whether or not this knowledge might not be sufficiently important to at least three governments to win him a pardon should he ever be found out for crimes of other days. And if there should come a time when he were free from the ever haunting fear of arrest might there not be the fulfilment of his dearest wishes? He was sure Daphne would drop her title if he thought it best.

Then he put the thought from him resolutely. That was in the future and he was immediately concerned with the success of this thing he had sworn to accomplish.

Hentzi told him that Count Michael would travel by night to Fiume there to board a Venice bound boat and catch the continental express for Paris. As none but he drove the Lion and the count preferred it and its driver the assumption was that Alfred Anthony would take him. It was on this hypothesis that the success of Trent’s scheme depended. He would probably be alone. At most some servant or valet would be chosen to travel with his master and he would of course sit next to the chauffeur.

Trent had long ago picked out a suitable spot where such a luckless person could be dumped. There was a steep grassy bank some twenty miles along the road where a man hit sufficiently deftly would roll out of reach with small possibility of injury. A little stream ran at the bottom which would revive him if stunned or drown him as the fates saw best. Stored in the Lion car was a change of apparel, some food and other necessaries.

It was Hentzi who broke the bad news. The secretary came upon the eager mechanic tuning up his engine lovingly. So engrossed was he that he neither saw Hentzi nor noticed that Peter Sissek was polishing the brass work on his Panhard.

“Getting things shipshape and Bristol fashion,” Trent said, when he saw Hentzi.

“It is Peter who takes the count,” the secretary said idly, “You are to go to Budapesth tomorrow. You see what it is to be considered so skillful that Count Michael offers you to his guests and goes more slowly himself.”

Then Trent noticed the grinning and triumphant Sissek. It was a black moment for him.

“Yes, Peter takes the count,” Hentzi repeated.

“I think he’ll have to,” Trent said slowly, “for the second time.”

This alteration in the schedule which for the moment promised utter disruption to his plans might have been brought about by reasons other than those suggested by Hentzi. It was curious that at just this critical moment Sissek should be entrusted with his master’s safety and Trent given a mission which Peter Sissek with his wider knowledge of the country could better have filled.

But it was time wasting to ponder on this now. In three hours Trent would have started with his Lion. Sissek a slower driver and using an older and less speedy car must get away earlier. Almost frightened out of his accustomed calm Trent learned that the count was leaving in a little over an hour, just as the darkness would set in. What plans he could make must be made instantly. Failure was now almost at his side.

Failure! Anthony Trent groaned at thought of it; Lord Rosecarrel would be publicly humiliated. Daphne would blame him for it. With what assurance and headstrong confidence he had plunged into an adventure which had brought death to those other men! He could never face her if he failed and failure was in sight.

For a moment he thought of forcing a quarrel on Peter Sissek. Before Hentzi or others could intervene he could with his boxer’s skill most certainly damage one eye if not two of a man who, to drive down dark and dangerous roads, must possess unclouded vision.

But he hesitated. If Count Michael had chosen. Sissek because Alfred Anthony was under suspicion an assault on the Croatian at the present moment might tend to confirm these doubts and he might find himself overpowered and under guards he could not overwhelm. To put the car out of commission was hardly possible with Sissek guarding it and another man cleaning it. And these two, it seemed to Trent, were watching suspiciously.

By some trick of fate it was Sissek himself who contributed to Trent’s success. Peter was arrogant now and motioned to Trent to aid him in lifting some baggage to the top of the Panhard limousine. Like most of the continental cars it had a deep luggage rail around the top on which trunks or lesser baggage could be carried. There was a cabin trunk, a bundle of rugs and a dressing bag. Peter Sissek was astonished when Trent cheerfully obeyed him and even helped to strap the cabin trunk securely.

Hentzi was amazed at the sudden change that had taken place in the English chauffeur’s attitude. He was now lively who had been gloomy, and loquacious when he had been taciturn.

“Why do you laugh,” he asked.

“At the idea of Peter taking the count,” said Trent. “Someday you’ll know what that means.”

“I know now,” Hentzi insisted, “I speak perfectly and my English vocabulary is wider than could be that of a man of your position.”

As Peter Sissek unaccompanied by valet or assistant drove down the hill, after leaving the pavilion at the first tee on his left, he was horrified to find a tree across his path. He dismounted, moved it aside with difficulty and proceeded on his way.

But this time he carried two passengers.

The motor had come to an abrupt stop under a big oak tree whose spreading arms reached across the mountain road.

Lying along one of those rigid oak limbs Anthony Trent, after nicely adjusting the fallen tree so that Peter Sissek’s eyes would see it at the proper moment, had waited anxiously for the approach of the Panhard.

He was not sure that the powerful headlights would not pierce his leafy shelter and discover him to the watchful driver. He could imagine vividly the chauffeur warning his employer. And as Count Michael always went armed and might even now be suspicious of his cockney servant he would very likely have no hesitation in picking him off the boughs as Anthony Trent, years