The Traitors Part 10

Reist shrugged his shoulders.

"He is one of those who love adventure, and I do not think that he can come to any harm. Let him play out his game. It was his own idea to personate you, and the risk is his own. Ah!"

There was a sudden slackening of speed. The brakes were on and the whistle sounding. Reist strolled to the platform of the car as though to look out, and Ughtred followed him. A conductor unfastened the gate and slipped away. The train had come to a standstill in a tiny station, a little wooden building with a cupola, and everywhere surrounded with a dense forest of pines. Reist looked swiftly round.

"Now," he said. "Follow me."

They slipped from the train on the side remote from the platform, and in half-a-dozen strides had reached the impenetrable shelter of the trees. Then there was a whistle. The train crawled onward serpent-like with its flaring electric lights and the shower of sparks which flew upwards from the engine. An hour later Ughtred, riding in silence and at breakneck speed with Reist at his elbow crossed the frontier of his kingdom.

CHAPTER X

"Prince Ughtred of Tyrnaus."

Brand awoke from a hideous nightmare, sat up on a rude horsehair couch, and held his head with both hands. He was conscious of a sense of nausea, burning temples, and a general indisposition to take any interest in his surroundings. He sank back upon his pillow.

"Oh, rot," he murmured. "Go away, please."

There was a short silence, then footsteps, and the newcomer bent over the sofa.

"Drink this."

The invitation was alluring. Brand's throat was like a limekiln. He sat up and took the proffered tumbler into his hands. The liquid was cold and sparkling--almost magical in its effects. He drained it to the last drop, and then looked curiously about him.

"Where the mischief am I?" he asked; "and who are you?"

The newcomer stood in the light from the window. He was a short and thick-set man, with iron-grey hair and black moustache slightly upturned. He had a pallid skin and keen grey eyes. His manner was at once grave and conciliatory.

"Your memory, Prince," he remarked, "is scarcely so good as mine. I have had the pleasure of seeing you but once before, yet I think that I should have recognized you anywhere."

"Oh, would you!" Brand remarked, beneath his breath.

"I will recall myself to your memory," the other continued, blandly.

"My name is Domiloff!"

"Domiloff, of course," Brand echoed. "You are still----"

"Still the representative of Russia to the State of Theos. It is true."

"And where am I?" Brand asked, looking around the bare, lofty room with some surprise; "and what am I here for?"

"You are in the House of Customs at Gallona. I met the train at the frontier to secure the honour of a little conversation with you before you proceeded to the capital. I found you exceedingly unwell, and took the liberty of bringing you here that you might have the opportunity of resting a little before completing your journey."

Brand rose slowly to his feet. He was still giddy, but rapidly recovering himself. His last distinct recollection was the coffee which he and the priest had ordered in their _coupe_. There was a peculiar taste--a swimming in his head--afterwards blank unconsciousness.

"You have been most considerate, I am sure," he said, slowly. "I am glad to have your explanation, otherwise my presence here, under the circ.u.mstances, might have suggested unpleasant things to me."

Domiloff's lips parted in an inscrutable smile. He remained silent.

"I might have remembered," Brand continued, "that I was travelling with two friends. What has become of them?"

Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.

"It was most unfortunate," he declared. "The train pulled up for a moment at a wayside station, and they appear to have descended--and to have been left behind."

Brand nodded.

"I might also have remembered," he continued, stroking his moustache thoughtfully, "a priest whose interest in his fellow-pa.s.sengers was a little extraordinary--a cup of coffee pressed upon me, a queer taste--bah! Why waste time? I was drugged, sir, with your connivance, no doubt, and brought here. What is the meaning of it?"

Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.

"You a.s.sume too much, my dear Prince," he declared, blandly. "Let us not waste time by fruitless discussion. I will admit that I was particularly anxious to have a few minutes' quiet conversation with you before you entered the capital. The opportunity is here. Let us avail ourselves of it."

"Well?"

Domiloff coughed. He had expected a torrent of indignation and abuse.

His guest's nonchalance was a little disquieting.

"You are entering," he said, "upon a troublesome inheritance."

"Well?"

"It is an inheritance," Domiloff continued, "which you can neither possess yourself of, nor hold, without powerful friends."

"Well?"

"My country is willing to be your friend."

"Your country," Brand remarked, quietly, "is renowned throughout the world for her generosity."

Domiloff bowed.

"You do us, sir," he said, "no more than justice."

Brand smiled.

"Well! Go on!"

"Theos is in a state of hopeless confusion," Domiloff remarked. "It is very doubtful whether the actual state of the country has been represented to you. The people are all clamouring for they know not what, law and order seem to be things of the past. South of the Balkans the Turks are ma.s.sing; northwards, the mailed hand of Austria is slowly being extended."

"And Russia?" Brand asked. "It is not her custom to remain in the background."

"Russia," Domiloff said, "desires to be your friend. She will secure for you the throne, and she will guarantee your independence."

"At what price?"