The Lady Evelyn Part 19

Gavin laughed at the impertinence of it. Speaking in fluent German, he said:

"I might very well put that question to you. Shall I say, then, that I am not here to answer your questions. Come, we had better be frank with each other. I may be able to help you."

This was a new idea to the gypsy and one that caused him some perplexity. A little reflection convinced him that the stranger was right.

"Very well," he said, "we will talk about it. Come to my tent and Djala shall make us coffee. Why not be friends? Yes, we might help each other, as you say. Let us talk first and then we can quarrel."

He led the way through a path of the dell, powdering the ground with the golden dust of wild flowers as he went. The encampment had been enlarged considerably since Evelyn discovered it on the gypsies first coming to Moretown. There were no less than seven tents; and the biggest of these, the one to which Gavin's guide now conducted him, had been furnished with lavish generosity. Old silver lamps from the Hall cast a warm, soft light upon the couches and rugs about; there were old tapestries hung against the canvas; tables glittering with silver ornaments; a buffet laden with bottles and silver boxes. But the chief ornament was Djala, a little Hungarian girl, and such a perfect picture of wild beauty that Gavin stared at her amazed.

"Here is Djala," the guide said, with a gesture of his hand toward her.

"I am known as Zallony's son. His Excellency may have spoken of me."

"I know nothing," said Gavin simply. "Permit me to tell the young lady that she has a charming voice. I have never heard music that fascinated me so much."

"It is the music of a nation of musicians, sir. Please to sit down.

Djala will serve us cigarettes and coffee."

The girl laughed pleasantly, showing a row of s.h.i.+ning white teeth and evidently understanding that a compliment had been paid her by the stranger. When she had served the coffee and cigarettes, she ran away with a coquette's step and they heard her singing outside to the soft accompaniment of a zither. Zallony's son smoked meanwhile with the contemplative silence of the Oriental; and Gavin, waiting for him, would not be the first to break the truce.

"So you have been in Germany, sir?"

"I was there three years," said Gavin.

"You know Bukharest, it may be?"

"Not at all, though a lady's book was on the point of sending me to the Carpathians."

"You should go and see my country; it is the finest in the world."

"I will take care to do so on the earliest opportunity."

"Make friends with my people and they will be your friends. We never forget, sir. That is why I am here in this English country, because we never forget."

"The best of qualities.... They tell me that your father was his Excellency's friend in Roumania many years ago."

The gypsy looked at him questioningly.

"It is as you say, sir. They were brothers of the hills. When the houses burned and the women ran from the soldiers, then men said it is Zallony and the English lord. There was another with them. He is in prison now--he who was my father's friend. Sir, I come to England to give him liberty."

Gavin was greatly interested. He drained the little cup of coffee, and, filling a pipe slowly, he said:

"What forbids your success?"

Zallony's son looked him straight in the face.

"A lady known to us--she may forbid it, sir."

"You cannot mean the Lady Evelyn?"

"We will not speak of names. You have her confidence. Say to her that when she is false to my friend, Count Odin, I will kill her."

"But that is nonsense. What has she to do with it? Your affair is with the Earl, her father. Why do you speak of her?"

"Because there is only one door by which my father's friend can win his liberty. Let Georges Odin's son marry an Englishwoman and my Government will release him."

"That is your view. Do you forget his Excellency's influence? Why should he not pet.i.tion the Government at Bukharest for this man's liberty?"

"Because, in that case, his own life would be in danger. We are a people that never forgets. I have told you so. If Georges Odin were at liberty, he would cross the world to find his enemy. That is our nature. We love and hate as an Eastern people should. The man who does us a wrong must repay, whoever he is. It would be different if the young Count had an English wife. That is why I wish it."

Gavin smiled almost imperceptibly.

"It is quite clear that you know little of England," he said. "This language suits your own country very well. Permit me to say that it is ridiculous in ours. If Lord Melbourne had any hand in your friend's imprisonment, which I doubt, he is hardly likely to be influenced by threats. I should say that you are going the wrong way to work. As to the Lady Evelyn, I will tell you that she will never be the wife of one of your countrymen. If you ask a reason, it is a personal one, and before you now. She is going to marry me. It is just as well that we should understand as much at once."

The gypsy heard the news as one who had expected to hear it. He smoked for a little while in silence. Then he said:

"I appreciate the courtesy of your admission. That which I thought it necessary to tell you at first, I must now repeat ... this lady is the betrothed of my friend, Count Odin. I remain in England as the guardian of his honor. If you are wise, you will leave the house without further warning. My friend is absent, and until he is here I must speak for him. We do not know you and wish you no harm. Let this affair end as it began. You would be foolish to do otherwise."

Gavin heard the threat without any sign of resentment whatever.

"You are talking the language of the Carpathians, not of London," he said, with a new note of determination in his tone. "I will answer you in my English way. I have asked Lady Evelyn to marry me, and she will do so before the year is out. That is final. For the rest, I remind you again that you are not in Bukharest."

He rose, laughing, and offered his hand.

"Good-night," he said. "They will be anxious about me at the Castle."

It was the gypsy's turn to smile.

"I have dealt fairly with you," he said; "for that which is now to come, do not blame me when it comes."

"Too late is often never," replied Gavin lightly; and with that he left him.

The gypsy girl, Djala, had ceased to sing as he quitted the tent and the rest of the encampment was in darkness. But as he crossed the home park, a burly figure upon a black horse loomed up suddenly from the shadows and there was still moonlight enough for him to recognize the Earl.

"He is going to his gypsy friends," Gavin said to himself. "Then he knows that this brigand's son has spoken to me--ah, I wonder!"

CHAPTER XXII

A SPY FROM BUKHAREST

It is an English characteristic to deride the Europe code of social ethics and especially those fine heroics which attended the vindication of what is so often miscalled "honor." Whatever else Gavin Ord lacked, sound common sense he had abundantly; and that came to his aid when he returned from the gypsy's tent to the Manor and debated the odd interview which he had so abruptly terminated. These men, he said, were mere bravadoes; but they might be dangerous none the less. Of Count Odin he knew nothing; but his antipathy to all counts was ineradicable, and he had come to number them together as so many impostors, valiants, and bankrupts. This habit of thinking first led him to the supposition that Lord Melbourne, his host, had been the victim of a little band of swindlers and was about to be blackmailed by them as few even of the most unfortunate degenerates are blackmailed, even in this age of accomplished roguery.

"It is a hundred to one old Georges Odin is dead," he argued; "this son of his got the story somehow and came over here to make what he could by it. The Earl has lost his nerve, and his love for Evelyn is betraying him into cowardice. I shall see him and tell him the truth.

If they fire off pistols at me, I must take my luck in my hand. There may be a deeper story--if so, I shall find it out when the time comes.

I am now to act for Evelyn's sake and think of no consequences which do not concern her. Very well, I will begin to-morrow and the Earl is my first step. He shall hear everything. When he has done so, I shall know what to do."