The Playground of Satan Part 22

"Certainly not." Father Constantine could be very peremptory when he liked. "The idea! I am quite fit to see visitors ... and anxious to meet this American boy."

"He's forty if he's an hour."

"Well--forty or fourteen. See him I will."

Minnie put on the professional nurse's manner.

"Father," she said, "you're getting excited and you know how bad it is for you. I won't bring up anybody till your temperature goes down."

He said no more; next time she took his temperature it had gone up two points. He actually winked at her.

"There, my child," he said in triumph. "I told you that the sooner I see this relief man the better. I shall not sleep a wink to-night unless I do ... and to-morrow morning you'll find me in a raging fever."

"He is busy ... Ian is with him. I heard them say they would not finish till supper time."

"What are they doing?"

"Checking stores for some village. The Americans have got a wonderful system. Ian is learning it."

"You and Ian can do that whilst he is up here. I feel my temperature has gone up another point. Give me the thermometer."

She refused that, but went for Major Healy. After all, she reflected, he was an obstinate old man and capable of getting a high temperature just to prove himself in the right.

The introduction over, he turned to her with one of his benignant smiles.

"My child ... you have spent so much time with a poor old man to-day, I am sure Major Healy will excuse you ... you might help Ian check those potatoes."

She took the hint and went out; but not to the potatoes. I am afraid she did a very mean thing. She burned with curiosity to hear what Father Constantine wanted with the American major, and that instinct which often enables a woman to steal a march on man whispered that she was concerned in the priest's mysterious anxiety. It may be true that an eavesdropper hears no good of herself; it is equally true that she sometimes hears things good for herself. Therefore, argued Minnie, it was quite a normal occupation under the circ.u.mstances.

The Father's room opened to his dressing-room, approachable from the corridor as well. Thither she tiptoed, to find the door ajar. Slipping in, she stood behind a curtain which hung in the doorway between dressing and bedrooms. There was no door, so she heard very clearly.

Father Constantine was talking; she caught the sound of her own name.

"It is not safe for Miss Burton to remain here," he said in his slow, correct English, for the Major had no other tongue. "I have told her so more than once. So has the Countess; and also the Count. But she refuses to listen. She knows how much we value her excellent work with wounded and refugees. But perhaps you can persuade her. Neither the Countess nor her son can insist; it would look as though they wanted to get rid of her."

Major Healy was loath to interfere. He sat, like a giant in repose, by the little chaplain's bed, listening politely, but secretly wis.h.i.+ng himself downstairs with the Count, whom he found more interesting every time they talked together. Father Constantine's message had interrupted a long argument not entirely disconnected with big-game shooting. Healy was a keen sportsman himself, and found it very interesting to swap stories with Ian, who did not know the Rockies, but did know the Caucasus and even Cashmere, where he had spent a long-remembered holiday with young Ralph Burton two years ago.

"Well," he said, in slow sonorous tones, his blue eyes watching the snowstorm that raged outside the sealed double window. "Miss Burton looks as if she could take care of herself. I hear that the Grand Duke promised to give warning if the place gets unsafe."

This was not at all what Father Constantine wanted.

"Do you see my bandages?" he asked.

Major Healy said he did.

"I received the wounds they cover in a fight which took place in the kitchen between the Grand Duke's soldiers and Prussian Hussars. Neither the Duke nor the Kaiser sent to warn me that a fight would be in the kitchen, which I entered by chance without any idea the Russians had come to the rescue. It was a very good thing they did come because, as you know, grain and potatoes are worth a dozen old men's skulls nowadays."

"Oh--don't say that," protested the major politely.

The priest went on:

"Let us put it in this way. What would have happened if Miss Burton and not myself had gone into the kitchen?"

"I suppose her head would have been smashed, too," murmured the American.

"Exactly," agreed the priest. "Her pretty young head would have been broken. And as a woman's head is softer than a priest's, it would probably have been broken past repairing."

Major Healy waited for more. It came.

"And what would the American government say if an American woman had her skull broken in a Polish kitchen?" he pursued.

"It would have written one of its darned notes."

"Oh!" said Father Constantine, disappointed at this unexpected reply.

"It would have written one of those notes? They must be very interesting to compose, but will not mend broken heads. And England won't even write a note. But her brothers would probably blame us for letting her stop here. And Ruvno is one of the most dangerous houses in Poland. You can see for yourself what the Prussians have done to the tower and the west wing."

"That I have," agreed the major, more interested in the west wing than the prospect of Minnie's broken skull. "I'd like to wring the Kaiser's neck for bringing down that old bit." He was an admirer of antiquities, you see, and Minnie was still far from being one. "No, Father, Poland isn't safe for young girls and I'll speak to her about it."

He rose from the depths of the armchair.

"Thank you so much. It will be a great weight off our minds when we know that this charming young lady is out of danger. When did you say you were returning to France?"

"Not yet. I'll have to go to Moscow, and can take her to Petrograd and find an escort for her to England."

The Countess came in then and Healy went off. Minnie was half-way across the room on her way out when a laugh from the patient stopped her.

There was something wicked about it, out of keeping with a broken skull and high temperature.

"What is it?" asked the Countess.

He laughed again. The visit had cheered him immensely.

"I think I've managed it."

"Managed what?"

"To persuade the American that Miss can't stop here any longer." And he laughed again.

"But you know what the Grand Duke said."

"How about my broken head?"

"Oh--that was my fault, Father----"

"No--no." His voice was deprecating now. "This American man will persuade her. He is the picture of American determination. Look at his chin."

"I haven't noticed his chin. But I have noticed your lack of grat.i.tude.

I'm ashamed of you after the way Minnie nurses you."

"I'm not ungrateful; but I've been watching her and Ian rather closely the last few days."