Trusia Part 7

"We'll go and see now, dear. Marie has finished my hair."

The listener, a.s.sured that they would get a fair trial, arose and, with Carrick following, made his way back in the direction from which they had adventured.

There is always a difference, telepathic it may be, in a room which, then empty, has been entered and vacated by some living thing. Carter appreciated this as soon as he set his foot in the first cell on their return journey. Some one had been there since he and Carrick had come through. He glanced at the c.o.c.kney to see if he, too, had the same impression. The fellow's head was craned forward, as one who strives to catch an elusive sound.

"I was sure I 'eard something in there, Mr. Carter," he whispered, responding to the visual question, as he nodded his head toward the doorway beyond them. Carter listened intently. It might have been an atom broken from silence; he was not positive that he had really heard anything, but he was convinced that the silence had not been unbroken.

They moved cautiously to the door and peered guardedly around its frame.

There is also an actual physical--or, if you choose, psychical connection between what is seen, what has just missed being seen by an infinite fraction of time, and what one has imagined one has just seen, and between these all the scientists of all the ages have not been able to formulate a real distinction. One's senses, after all, remain the best guides.

"I just missed seeing something going through that door," whispered Carrick. It is noticeable, too, that he had said "something" and not "some one." The gloomy cells, centuries old, the damp memories of the dungeons still clinging to the walls, together with this weird presence which eluded their eyes before they could behold it, might well arouse the superst.i.tions of firmer minds than the c.o.c.kney's.

They were approaching the cell in which they had been placed. At last there was a perfectly appreciable sound. It was a fumbling, as of some one in the darkness, making hasty efforts to get a key in a lock.

Carter, now bent on discovery, made a rush into the abysmal darkness. He could see--nothing!

Still he felt that he and Carrick, who had joined him, were not the only occupants of the room.

Along the hall could be heard the unmistakable sound of approaching steps.

"Quite a select party, sir," remarked Carrick in comment, while Carter still tried to pierce the gloom to establish the ident.i.ty of the invisible visitant.

"About three," replied Carter.

The sounds stopped directly opposite their door. There was a grating of a key against the lock and the door swung open.

VIII

THE SPECTRE OF THE STAR

The Gray Man stood in front of the narrow entrance. The sinister smile which flickered across his face was made diabolic by the cross rays from the lanterns carried by two peasant soldiers. As if his attendance was an enforced and unwelcome one, the equerry of Lady Trusia, who had followed in the wake of the others, advanced no further into the room, but stood with his back against the closed door.

One furtive glance cast in the direction of the cell from which Carter and Carrick had just returned convinced the former that the old fellow was at least aware of their explorations.

When the two privates had deposited their lanterns upon a table which seemed to emerge from the gloom under the partial illumination, Carter surveyed his prison with a curiosity previously denied him. One glance was sufficient. The Gray Man had come to conduct an inquisition. What more fitting place, therefore, could be found to strike terror to the hearts of the guilty or weakling than the torture chamber of the castle?

A man of keen perceptive nature is apprised of secret as well as professed antagonisms, through a primitive discrimination, unaided by either word or deed, of the one holding him in enmity. Carter felt sure that with the possible exception of the equerry this visit to the cell was not prompted by a friendly motive. They had, evidently, been imprisoned in darkness that a sudden revelation of the devilish machinery about them might shake their courage.

Carter's lip curled disdainfully at such cheap theatrical efforts. He turned to the smirking face before him, which from behind the table was watching for the signs of trepidation he had hoped to surprise. By an answering smile as mocking as his own, he was satisfied that his ruse had failed. He shrugged his thin shoulders.

Purringly in an incomprehensible jargon, he addressed Carter to receive no other response than a blank and puzzled stare.

He essayed French.

"So, Monsieur of the White Police prefers the more polite language of France? Well, so be it."

At the mention of that secret, ubiquitous organization of Russian espionage, Carter realized that Carrick's prognostications had been correct. The cool insinuation made his blood boil. His answer came with the force of a blow. "What do you mean?" he thundered.

Staggered for an instant, the Gray Man's equanimity was shaken, then, turning to speak to the two peasants, he waited until they had placed themselves at the sides of the enraged American. a.s.sured that he had forestalled any possible violence to himself, he regarded the prisoners sneeringly.

"That you are Russian spies."

"We are Americans. I will prove it, too, as soon as I am out of this place; and that in a manner which will not be pleasant to those concerned in this outrage."

"Provided you get a chance. Spies are not given much shrift hereabouts."

This was said with deliberate malevolence.

"Would you dare?" challenged Carter who realized to the full what the menace implied.

"It would be but an incident, monsieur," replied his jailer in a casual manner. "You would be numbered among the missing in the big events of to-morrow. Enough time has been wasted on you, Monsieur of the White Police," he said, as if dismissing discussion. "We must to business."

At a nod from him, the two peasant soldiers threw themselves upon the helpless prisoners, and ruthlessly rifled their persons of all belongings, which were placed upon the table before the Gray Man.

Straining till the big veins in their arms stood out in ridges and the sweat poured from their brows, the captives were helpless against the indignities put upon them.

Carrick's s.h.i.+rt was torn open. The Krovitzer soldiers stood dumbfounded at the sight of the star which hung upon the c.o.c.kney's breast. As though its appearance had countermanded all previous orders, they turned puzzled faces to their superior, who also saw the emblem.

Into those sneering eyes crept a pallid fear, while his face grew ashen.

Approaching the c.o.c.kney he laid a trembling finger on the star.

"Your name?" he asked hoa.r.s.ely.

"Tod Carrick," was the sullen reply.

A slight start followed this, as though the answer had matched his antic.i.p.ations.

Instantly, the training and duplicity of years rea.s.serted themselves.

The habitual mask once more settled upon his inscrutable countenance. He turned to Carter who had been an attentive though puzzled observer of this by-play.

"I was surprised," he explained, "but only for an instant, to see your companion wearing the badge of our most n.o.ble order. I should not have been as there is no moral distinction between a thief and a spy."

Encouraged by his own words, he tore the medal from its resting place, while Carrick groaned impotently.

"I'll make you sweat for this," growled the c.o.c.kney.

"What authority have you for this?" asked Carter with forced calmness as the Gray Man commenced a leisurely perusal of his private papers.

Without deigning a reply, their self-const.i.tuted judge completed his task; carefully folding the various doc.u.ments he had been reading, he looked up complacently.

"Authority," he replied with a rising inflection, as though the idea were a new one. "Oh, I think I am justified in a.s.suming it."

Carter breathed a prayer of silent thanksgiving that the Lady Trusia had been no party to the indignity.

As though in response to the thought, the Lady Trusia herself walked indignantly into the room. Going straight to the table she confronted the Gray Man with flas.h.i.+ng eyes.

"Josef," she addressed him with stamping foot, "what does this mean? Who gave you permission to treat this gentleman so harshly? I am still mistress here."

"They are Russian spies, Highness."