Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch

X
THE GLIMMER OF SUSPICION

It was Paul Zulka who bowed low over the Duchess's hand. He was totally oblivious to all other claims upon his attention for the nonce.

"Do you know that gentleman, Paul?"

As Trusia questioned him, he turned about in mystification. Not expecting to see Carter there or anywhere, it required time for his mental processes to adjust themselves to the detached conditions, unfavorable to a recognition.

That the Krovitzer had not instantly identified his former clubmate was causing the latter some uneasiness. He knew it would be impossible for Zulka to have forgotten his existence completely after two years of almost daily social intercourse. A greater fear followed on the heels of this first misgiving. Carter's mouth set firm and hard as he considered the possibility of an intentional snub. If such were the case his fate was undoubtedly sealed, for he had invoked this very test – this meeting was to vouch for his sincerity. His mind went rapidly back over the whole period of his acquaintance with the Krovitch nobleman, to recall if there had been any indication of such a poltroon trait in Paul Zulka's character. He was, in justice, forced to deny the existence of any such.

In the flash of an eye it had all happened. Forgetting court etiquette in his rush, Zulka grasped his friend's hand and shook it vigorously.

"You," he said half doubting his own senses. "Here? Will wonders never cease? Carrick, too," and a friendly nod greeted the grinning and relieved Cockney. The recognition was complete.

"Mea Culpa!" said Zulka, suddenly remembering his grievous breach of decorum, turning now to bow deeply with a humility which seemed but half sincere. Of course Trusia forgave him for she seemed vastly pleased with the favorable outcome of the meeting.

"Carter a spy!" Paul exploded, when the status of affairs was duly explained to him. "I would as soon suspect our loyal old Josef there."

The face of the latter, since Zulka's advent, had been a study, though this allusion to him had been received with his accustomed smirk.

Sobieska, for the time being no further interested in the proceedings, was openly watching the mask-like face. It was as though a suspicious mind, aroused by the vigorous and unsustained charges, had, as a reflex, determined to probe the motives to their devious sources. Too subtle to display the uneasiness he felt at this surveillance, Josef appeared the personification of innocence and candor.

Colonel Sutphen, willing to make amends, and aware that Carter and Carrick had not yet been formally acquitted, arose and addressed Her Grace.

"I think we may take it, Highness, that this gentleman and his – his servant are vindicated." The word servant caused him some difficulty as he was not prepared to relegate Carrick to such servile rank. It might be of some significance to note that both Josef and Sobieska displayed a covert interest in this hesitation in the usually downright Chancellor.

XI
YOU LOVE TRUSIA

"I am so glad," she said as she stepped from the dais to greet him.

There was a generous simplicity of movement somewhat at variance with the haughty poise of her head. That Trusia, Duchess of Schallberg, was a very lovely young woman Carter found himself mentally confessing with no small degree of enthusiasm, while his heart warmed at her sweet effusiveness.

"Do you really and truly mean it?" she continued as she placed a small, firm palm in his, man-wise. "You have come all the way from that wonderful country of yours to join us?"

She clasped her hands at her neck in a sweet girlish gesture as he silently bowed his assent. He felt dazzled. Though accustomed to the society of high-bred women, he was at a loss for the first time in his experience; was unable to frame a simple affirmative. If, he thought, she would only turn away those wonderful eyes of hers for an instant, he felt confident of accomplishing a conversational commonplace at least.

The members of the Privy Council, following her lead, came forward to greet him. Carter devoutly prayed that this diversion might loosen his unruly member.

That no remark might escape his vigilant ears, Josef edged cautiously to the outskirts of the group now gathered around the Americans. Trusia espied him, and much against his desire haled him to the fore.

"You must make amends, sir," she prompted, though not unkindly, "for the annoyance you have caused Captain Carter."

"Your Highness," he said with a deferential bow, but unbending mind, "must accept my zeal in the cause as my justification." Trusia was much hurt at this intentional and undisguised evasion of her behest, as much on the strangers' as on her own account, so hastened to supplement such an ambiguous apology.

"Josef is indulged by us," she began deprecatingly, "because to his fidelity, loyalty and zeal, we are indebted for a royal leader for Krovitch, a man descended from our one-time kings of the day when Krovitch was great."

"But I thought," said the puzzled Carter, "that you were the only descendant of Augustus."

"I am." The little head was raised in imperial pride. "But King Stovik, though deposed, was the rightful sovereign, not my ancestor. The fugitive monarch left a scion whom Josef as a faithful servitor has attended from his infancy. Finding in recent events that the time was ripe for his crownless prince, he came to tell us that we had a king, if we dared to strike for him. He showed us proofs. We already had organization, men and money, but we sadly lacked a man for the struggle. My valorous people would have fought for me, poor as were my claims to the crown, founded on the wrong done another. Imagine how high their enthusiasm became on hearing that not only one of King Stovik's glorified stock, but a man – a young king – was to lead the ancient flag to victory. Russia, already dazed, can do nothing against the flame of my people's ardor."

"But the Almanac de Gotha," insisted Carter to whom the reference to the invisible king was a puzzling one.

"Knew nothing about King Stovik after his deposition and flight," she interrupted with a charming smile.

"Tell me the story, Your Grace," he pleaded, for he could feel instinctively that there was a story, an old world romance hidden here.

She held up a warning finger. "Be warned in time," she said, "it is a vulnerable point with me, one on which I am likely to be extremely prolix."

"You can but enhance the value of the legend," he replied with a bow. "I promise, Highness," he laughed, once more at his ease, "not to take the teeniest of naps."

Already deep in her recollections of her country's tribulations, her responsive smile was of one who dreamed. Inspiring scenes of tragic grandeur, the pageant of a nation's history wiped out in the groans of conquest, lit the beauty of her eyes. So must the Maid of Orleans have appeared to those who in awe listened to her. Softened by her translation into the world of inspiration, she turned to him.

"How I envy those who can wield the pen," she sighed. "I wish I could chronicle the story of the kings who have been safely hidden for generations. Patiently, devotedly, for two centuries have they waited for this day to dawn, the first opportunity that Krovitch has had to take back her own from the despoiler of Europe. The narrative from where general information ends," she continued, "briefly is as follows: King Stovik with his queen and infant son escaped by the connivance of a loyal nobleman on the midnight of the intended assassination of the overthrown dynasty. With two servants, husband and wife, who insisted on sharing the exile, he left Krovitch to find an asylum in a strange country, where caution led him to change his name. Certain it is that his subjects never learned the place of his retreat though they were well assured that his line was maintained in exile. After some years of silence, during which the heir apparent had reached a marriageable age, King Stovik sent again to his native land, to that nobleman in fact who had aided his escape, beseeching that from the maidens of noble birth a bride should be selected and sent back under the care of the messenger, who was none other than the faithful servant who had shared all the tribulations of the royal family. Bribes, threats, and coaxing of still loyal Krovitzers could not induce the faithful fellow to betray his master's hiding place. In fact on that, as on all similar embassies, in the generations that followed, her family bade farewell to their daughter, knowing not the place of her future home, nor her name, nothing but that she was to be the consort of their rightful king. So careful was Stovik in his banishment, that it became a hereditary rule not to permit the young bride to communicate with her family. Thus only could the never-dying hatred of Russia be avoided.

"Until my father's time this system has been maintained, always through the agency of the descendants of that pair of original servants, of whom Josef is the last. As a little child, I remember him first, when he came and claimed the hand of one of our most beautiful girls to share his master's banishment. Then, until recently, we had supposed the Line had become extinct, for no further missions came. Then he returned and offered to put a king at the head of our national movement. Nothing could have been a greater boon. Those who, for years, at all corners of the earth, had been striving for Krovitch, came flocking to her standards. Our joy was complete. Do you wonder, Captain Carter," she said gently, "that we are very lenient to Josef?"

Appreciating the girl's nobility, Carter strove to do justice to the Gray Man, but as he glanced into the mask-like face a greater repugnance than aforetimes overcame all generous impulses. He strove to put down the distrust that he was certain no one present shared with him, for on every countenance, save that of Sobieska who was gazing idly out of a window, he read a story of affection for the man who had done this thing for Krovitch.

"And the new king," he questioned lightly, avoiding the issue raised, "has he, too, married a maid of Krovitch?"

She crimsoned in manifest confusion. Averting her head for an instant, she bravely met his glance.

"Not yet," she replied. The signals of her embarrassment told him on whom the choice had nevertheless fallen.

She hurried on that this stranger might not the longer probe her sentiments with his compelling eyes. "In a few days we go to bring him who knows not he is king, and at the head of a valorous people seat him on his throne. Now are the days when only a man must lead. My ancestors threw this land into Russia's clutches, their descendant must return it to Krovitch's rightful king. This is about all, Captain Carter, except that when King Stovik fled he was supposed to have worn the medal found on your chauffeur. Doubtless at some time a member of Carrick's family received it as a mark of royal gratitude."

"I thank you for the story," said Carter. "Now that my identity is established, may I ask for a place in your army? The cause of your country shall be my own."

She smiled indulgently. "Perhaps," she said, "when you have fully mastered our language, we might make you a lance corporal. You see we have only one Field Marshal, Colonel Sutphen, although fully a score of applicants for that rank."

"Don't tease, Tru," said Zulka with the intimacy of a lifelong friendship, "I am a colonel. Cal Carter, here, is a better soldier. We fought together at Santiago, so I should know."

"We'll see," was all she would reply, as she turned to go. Then hesitatingly she held out her hand to Carter, who bent above it with inspired gallantry and touched his lips to her fingers.

"Au revoir, Lady Paramount," he said.

"Au revoir, Sir Knight of the Auto-car," she replied; adding; "be sure to come to the levee to-night. Already the maidens of Krovitch have heard of you, sir. One at least, desires to make your acquaintance."

"We are going to the inn," Zulka announced as he took Carter by the arm, so the latter made his adieux to the gentlemen of the Privy Council and turned prepared to follow him.

"Castle's full," Paul explained to relieve the mystification apparent on his friend's countenance. "Privy Counselors with their families and households, Army Staff, Duchess's Attendants and Aides-de-Camp, and so forth."

"But the inn's full, too, Paul. The landlord – "

"Thought you were a spy. That's why Josef recommended Schallberg. Thought you would probably tumble to the fact that he was wise, as we say in New York; to the fact that more than a hundred notices were posted there offering a reward for the apprehension of humble me, whom they flatteringly described. You see," he explained, "shortly after my return last year, I hurt Russia's feelings. Made what they very truthfully called a revolutionary address. I've been dodging Siberia ever since. Get your medal, Carrick, and come along," he called over his shoulder to the Cockney, who was reluctant to leave without his precious heirloom.

Carter's second appearance in the courtyard was more gratifying than his first, and he had no difficulty in procuring his touring car from the sentry, who already seemed to have been apprised of the stalwart stranger's status.

Whirled along in the auto, the inn was soon reached, where, arm in arm with Count Zulka, Carter entered, much to the unenlightened bewilderment of the landlord, who, nevertheless, at the Krovitzer's request, had no difficulty in finding them a private room for their dinner.

After having enjoyed to the full the appetizing meal which had been set before them, the two friends at first indulged themselves with intermittent cigarettes and the thimblefuls of local liquor attendant at their elbows. Digestion, for a while, stood in the way of discourse, and the tally was naturally indolent, somnolent.

Presently, after having sufficiently watched the rings of smoke flatten themselves against a black, studded rafter, Carter gave a slight rein to his speculations.

"Why," he said, holding up his cigarette to gaze squintingly at the ember at its head, "why is the Count Sobieska antagonistic to Josef?"

Zulka stretched himself further back in his heavy chair. Very much at his ease, he could have dispensed with questions just then.

"Professional jealousy, I suppose," he replied. "When it comes to knowledge of Russian movements," he went on to explain, "that's Sobieska's department, mind you, but somehow Josef is always hours ahead of him through some source of his own. Naturally Sobieska takes the chance to rub a miscue in on the old chap."

"Why should he be interested in Carrick's antecedents, Paul?"

"Cal, you are like the youngster, who after exhausting all other questions, asked his dazed parent, 'Father, why is why?' Tell me all that happened," he said, seeing the slightly nettled expression on his friend's face. "You see the circus was all over before I arrived."

Carter related the affair from the time of their first meeting with Josef, at that very inn, to the time when Zulka's timely appearance put an end to their trial. "The rest you know," he concluded.

Zulka opened his cigarette case, selected one and after knocking the end of it two or three times against the metal lid without putting it in his mouth, looked up at his friend. "Cal, I'm afraid I've given you the idea that Sobieska is incompetent. That is not so. The fact is, he is devilish deep and clever. He never lets up once he has struck a trail. He's probably hit on something now that he thinks should be investigated. By the way, how's Saunderson of the Racquet?" So the conversation drifted.

Their mutual friends in New York had included many women of gentle birth with whom Paul Zulka had always been more or less of a favorite. Concerning these, individually and collectively, Carter's replies to his friend's inquiries had been equally frank and responsive.

"So you left no sweetheart behind, Cal?"

"No, Paul. I'd not leave a sweetheart. I'd make her my wife."

"In the face of a congé?"

"You ought to know me better. I never take 'no' for an answer." Carter's pride glowed in his face as he made this reply.

"The Duchess of Schallberg," announced Zulka, "will marry the King of Krovitch to unite the two houses. She has pledged herself." This seemingly irrelevant announcement was made through a swirling cloud of smoke.

"So?" Carter strove to make his reply partake of easy nonchalance, but his throat tightened so that he could feel his face go red and hot. It was as if Paul had intimated that he, Calvert Carter, would seek and be refused by the Duchess of Schallberg. He was thankful the Krovitzer was not looking just then.

Had he been wise, Carter would have said no more. But failing to emphasize his disinterestedness, he added to his monosyllabic exclamation a query in a studied tone of unconcern.

"What's that got to do with us, old chap?"

Zulka leaned forward confidentially as he laid a friendly hand upon the other's knee.

"She's for neither you nor me, Cal," he said regretfully. "She must marry a man she has never seen for the sake of a country that she adores. Without this submission on her part we could count on no united Krovitch. Our country worships her and will follow no king who will not seat her upon his throne. Get that angel face out of your heart. Deafen your ears to her voice before, like me, you try too late. Oh, I know, I saw," he hastened on as Carter would have stopped him, "love makes all eyes keen. You love Trusia."

As the significance of the last remark went home, Carter sat as one stunned. The perspiration gathered slowly in great beads on his forehead. He hung his head gloomily; his face went pale. It seemed, suddenly, that life, ever a pleasant vista to him, had built a wall before his eyes, unscalable, opaque.

Then he understood. A pain gripped his heart as the great truth came home to him.

"I do," he answered jerkily, for he was striving to keep a strong man's grip on his soul. Slowly, however, the agony, defying him, triumphed. "My God," he wailed in surrender, "it is true though I never realized it till now." That was all he said, but with blind hands he groped for fellowship and welcomed Zulka's responsive grip of steel.

Relaxing his handclasp, he arose and walked to the window, to gaze out upon darkness until his own night passed from him sufficiently to enable him to seize upon his soul in the elusive shadows and hold it firmly. From where he stood, after an interval of pregnant silence, he turned a high-held, stern, white face upon Zulka.

"Paul," he said quietly, "we'll have to stand by her now to the end. If Krovitch wins and I'm alive, I'll go back to New York. If she loses, our lives must purchase her safety, should that be the price. It will be Trusia first, then."

"It will always be Trusia," said Zulka.

Carter nodded his understanding.

"Come, Carter!" Zulka said almost brusquely, "enough of sentiment. We must dress for the levee. I can fit you out in clothes."

XII
CARTER FINDS AN ALLY

The haut nobility of Krovitch were present at the Ducal reception that night. Glittering uniforms, with a plentiful supply of feminine silks and sparkling jewels, made even the gray old halls of the castle take on a warmer, gladder note. But to Carter, with an aching heart hidden behind a smiling countenance, the gaiety seemed forced, the colors glaring; while to his questing eyes all faces appeared blank surfaces, save one.

She was talking to a wisp of a golden-haired girl, whom he afterward learned was Zulka's cousin, the daughter of the plump Holder of the Purse. Apparently Trusia had not yet noticed his entrance, but why should she?

Had he been gifted with omnipresence, however, he would have heard her say to her companion, "That is he. The one in dress suit. No, stupid, not the short man in black and gold, but the strapping big fellow who holds his head like some ancient paladin."

"Oh," her companion had answered impulsively, as she finally singled Carter out from the throng about the entrance, "he is fine, Highness. I'm going to fall in love with him. I'm sure I am. Do you mind, Tru?" she teased, with the intuitive sex-given perception that her royal chum felt at least a passing interest in the handsome stranger. The Duchess made no immediate reply to her friend, but gazed resolutely in a direction opposite to the one from which she knew Carter was approaching. Even predestined queens are not averse to stately coquetry.

"No, Natalie," she finally condescended to reply, "why should I, dear?" She smiled affectionately down on the sweet face before her. "I envy you, child, that you may love where you please," she added gently.

"Oh," said Natalie. The little maid of honor changed front with ready sympathy. "I might have known you could not faint in his arms, be brought home by him, rescue him from jail, without feeling some interest in him. He's coming this way, Highness," she added in a confidential undertone as if Trusia had not already divined the fact through the back of her regal little head. Nevertheless, the Duchess achieved a very natural surprise as Calvert Carter presented himself before her.

He was duly presented to the golden-haired girl and apprised of her kinship to his friend Paul, who had already entered into conversation with Her Grace of Schallberg. Carter found a temporary distraction from his unearned wounds in listening to her cheery prattle and answering her light queries about the wilderness she imagined his country to be, just beyond the environs of the municipalities. Their group was constantly augmented by fresh arrivals, so the conversation grew general, and Carter had no opportunity except for a chance word now and then with the woman to whom he had silently yielded his heart. Enthusiastic young officers, cadets of ancient lineage, boasted hopefully of the efforts which they would make to restore the fatherland to its place among the great nations of the world. Even Natalie was soon claimed by an admiring young hussar glittering in black and gold, and Carter found himself alone for the nonce. He suddenly remembered a forgotten duty, and the possibility of its performance was now causing him some perplexity.

"You look troubled, Captain Carter," said Trusia, at his elbow. "Is there anything we can do?"

He smiled gratefully. "Yes, Highness," he responded eagerly. "I was just cudgeling my brains for a suitable form in which to present my request."

"It is – "

"Permission to cable my address in the morning to my New York agent."

"It is granted," she said. "A messenger will leave at seven to-morrow morning for Vienna. I will have Josef call with him in the morning. I need scarcely caution you not to refer to the state of affairs here."

"You have my word, Highness," he answered.

"I could ask for no better guaranty," she commented sweetly.

If Carter was distrustful of the emissary she had chosen, he was well aware that his vague misgivings would find no other reception than coldness did he even dare to hint at them. He turned to find Sobieska's look of pseudo-indolence upon him.

"Have I your permission, Highness, to make Captain Carter acquainted with some of his brother officers?" queried the Minister of Private Intelligence. She nodded her consent and Carter was led away, but not to meet any military men. Having found a place sufficiently out of earshot of the others, the Count motioned the American into a seat, placing himself opposite him.

"There is nothing like a common object of suspicion, Captain Carter, to make men friends," he began guardedly. Then probably recognizing that the man to whom he was speaking would hold his disclosures sacred, he threw away his diplomatic subterfuges and came frankly to the point.

"I wanted to tell you," he said gravely, "that I have already cabled my agents in London and Paris to investigate the history of your man Carrick." The American turned to regard him with a slight frown. Had the fellow brought him here to tell him they had not been believed at the afternoon's trial? Sobieska, understanding what was passing in the other's mind, smiled indulgently.

"Oh, I believed your story, don't fear," he said; "but, in the face of all things, I have always doubted the sincerity of Josef. I cannot convince myself that his motives are entirely as disinterested as he has convinced Her Grace they are. There was something, too, about Carrick's story of his father's death that awakened my suspicions. That medal for instance."

"You surely cannot mean – " began Carter, fairly rising from his seat in his wild surmise.

"Quietly, quietly," cautioned Sobieska, glancing warily back toward the throng of guests to assure himself that the American's perturbation had passed unnoted. Having satisfied himself that it had attracted no attention, he took up the thread where it had been dropped by him.

"I meant nothing more at present than that I want to know everything my agents can learn. Meanwhile not a word to any one, especially Josef. Don't trust him in any way, though."

With such an opportunity, Carter naturally told him about his dilemma concerning the despatches.

"Oh, if they refer to business, I suppose you may let him have them," he was assured. "He would hardly tamper with private papers. They will be perfectly safe, especially as he will know that you have already spoken to Her Grace concerning them. I may be doing him an injustice," he continued cogitatingly, "but I somehow feel that he is playing a deeper game in Krovitch than you or I have any idea of at present. Every one here from Her Highness down almost worships him. Can I count on your aid?"

"Certainly," replied Carter as they both arose. "I don't like the fellow either." They sauntered nonchalantly back to the others, baffling Josef's inquiring eyes.