Pimpernel and Rosemary Baroness Orczy (mobi reader TXT) 📖

worry them,” she said, “after all the trouble they must have taken to track us down.”

“You were caught in the act, I suppose?” Rosemary queried.

Anna nodded.

“Yes,” she said. “And that was strange too. I had all my parcels ready⁠—the usual ones for Budapest, and Philip’s manuscript at the bottom of a box of vegetable seeds. Half a dozen soldiers and an officer came into the shop and walked straight up to the place where the parcels were stacked. They seemed to know all about everything, for the officer just ordered his men to undo all the parcels, and, of course, there was Philip’s manuscript.”

“There is nothing strange in all that, Anna,” Rosemary said. “I have no doubt in my mind that you both have been watched for some time by secret service men, and at last they closed their trap on you.”

But once more Anna shook her head.

“I can’t explain what I mean,” she said, and puckered her fine straight brows together. “It is a kind of intuition that came to me when I saw those soldiers walk in. I am absolutely convinced that we were not denounced by regular Government spies. They are too clumsy, and we were too careful. I am certain,” she reiterated obstinately, “that we were not denounced by one of them.”

“By whom, then?”

“Ah, that I don’t know. It is an awful feeling I have. You know I never believed in all that so-called psychic nonsense which is so fashionable just now, but the feeling I have is not just an ordinary one. It is so strong that I cannot fight against it. It is a feeling that eyes⁠—eyes⁠—are always watching me and Philip⁠—cruel eyes⁠—eyes that wish us evil⁠—that will us to do something foolish, unconsidered, something that will get us again into trouble, and for good this time.”

“You are overwrought, Anna dear,” Rosemary put in gently. “And no wonder! Of course, we all know that there are Government spies all over the place, and you and Philip will have to be doubly careful in the future; but here in Kis-Imre you are among friends. Your aunt Elza’s servants are all of them Hungarian and thoroughly to be trusted.”

Anna said nothing. She was staring straight out in front of her, as if trying to meet those mysterious eyes which were forever watching her. An involuntary cry of horror rose to Rosemary’s lips.

“Anna!” she exclaimed, “you don’t think that I⁠—”

But before she could complete her sentence Anna’s arms were round her.

“Of course not. Of course not,” the girl murmured tenderly. “Rosemary darling, of course not!”

“I never spoke about your affairs to a single soul, Anna,” Rosemary said gravely. “I give you my solemn word of honour that I never even mentioned the thing to my husband until after your arrest, when, of course, all the facts became public property.”

“I know, Rosemary, I know,” Anna repeated. “I would trust you with every secret. I would trust you with my life⁠—with Philip’s life.”

“And you did not trust anyone else?” Rosemary asked.

“I never breathed a word about it to a living soul, except to you and Peter Blakeney.”

“Peter knew?”

“Yes, Peter knew.”

“You wrote to him?” Rosemary insisted. “Ah, then I understand. Your letters were held up by the censor, and⁠—”

“No, I never wrote to Peter what Philip and I were doing; but you know he arrived in Cluj the day before I was arrested. He came to arrange some cricket match or other between Romanians and Hungarians. I don’t know anything about cricket, but, of course, Peter was full of it. He came to see me at my lodgings quite unexpectedly. I was so surprised to see him, and so happy, as I am very, very fond of Peter. We talked till late into the evening, and somehow I had to tell him everything. But except for that one talk with Peter, and the one I had with you, I never breathed a word about what Philip and I were doing, not to a living soul!”

Rosemary said nothing for the moment. Indeed there was nothing much that she could say. Little Anna had got hold of the idea that some mysterious agency had been at work and brought about her and Philip’s arrest. But, after all, what did it matter? Professional spies or insidious traitor? What difference did it make in the end? Anna was frightened because she feared a fresh denunciation. She did not know that her poor life was already forfeit, that she was just a mouse whom the cat had allowed to run free for a moment or two, and that she would be pounced upon again unless her friend Rosemary whom she trusted with her whole soul, bought freedom and life for her.

But it was not thoughts of Anna that sealed Rosemary’s lips at this moment and left her mute, motionless, like an insentient log, with Anna’s cold little hand held tightly in her own. Anna had not spoken of her activities or her plans to anyone except to Peter. And Jasper had extracted a promise from her, Rosemary, that she would not speak of Philip’s or Anna’s affairs to Peter. What connection was there between Jasper’s insistence and that other awful thought which, strive as she might, would haunt Rosemary’s brain like a hideous ghoul risen out of hell? What mystery lurked in the denunciation of these children, in their release, in the alternative which Naniescu had placed before her? What hidden powers were at work, threatening her with shame and the children with death?

Rosemary felt stifled. Rising abruptly, she went to the window and stepped out on the balcony. The moon was up, a honey-coloured, waning moon that threw its cool, mysterious light on park land and lake and the distant pine forest beyond. Immediately below the balcony a bed of tuberoses, with wax-like corollas that shimmered white and spectral, sent their intoxicating odour through the balmy air. And against the background of dense shrubberies a couple of fireflies gleamed and darted aimlessly, ceaselessly, in