He was no fool. The castle meant nothing to him as a home or as an investment. No doubt he would blow it to pieces in order to unearth4 the thing he knew its walls secreted5.
We spent two unprofitable days in going over the place, and in the end sank down tired, defeated and without the slightest evidence in our possession that so much as a half crown lay hidden there as treasure-trove. I gave in and announced that if Tarnowsy could find anything worth having he was entitled to it so far as I was concerned, and I wouldn't begrudge7 him a farthing's worth.
He telegraphed that he would arrive on the morning of the third day, accompanied by his lawyer, a notary8 and an architect. My four guests departed in haste by the late night train, after extracting a promise from me to join them in Vienna when I was no longer the master of Schloss Rothhoefen. I rather relished9 the thought of a brief vacation!
Then, like the spider, I crept back into my web and waited for the foolish fly, knowing all the time that he would have the better of me in the long run.
I confess to a feeling of sadness in parting with the place, after all, elephantine though it was in every sense of the word. Within its grey and ancient walls that beautiful thing called love had come to me, to live with me forever. It had come unbidden, against my will, against my better judgment10, and in spite of my prejudices, but still it was a thing to cherish and to hold in its virgin11 youth all through the long years to come. It would always be young and sweet and rose-coloured, this unrequited love of mine. Walking through the empty, dismantled12 rooms that had once been hers, I grew sick with longing13, and, in something like fear, fled downward, absurd tears blinding my eyes. Verily, I was a fool,—a monstrous14, silly fool!
Tarnowsy was as bland15 and smiling as a May morning as he came jauntily16 down the great hall to where I awaited him.
"I am here incognito17, my dear Smart," he said, extending his gloved hand, which I took perforce. "Sub rosa, you might say," he went on with a wry18 smile. "A stupid, unchivalric empire has designs upon me, perfunctorily perhaps, but it's just as well not to stir up the monkeys, as you Americans would put it."
"Our late friend, the baron19, was not totally without friends, I take it," said I drily.
He made a grimace20. "Nor enemies," he declared. "Brave men usually have more enemies than friends, and he was a brave man, a truly brave man. Because he was a brave man I have no feeling of regret over the outcome of our—er—meeting. It is no honour to kill a coward, Mr. Smart."
He introduced his three companions. I was surprised to see that the lawyer was not the fawning21 Schymansky, and later on inquired for him. Tarnowsy laughed. "Poor old Schymansky! He is in prison."
"Aha! I am not surprised," said I.
"He was my second, poor chap. It did not occur to him to run away after the—er—duel. They had to make an example of some one. His trial comes up next week. I am afraid he may be dealt with rather harshly. I miss him dreadfully. But let us come to the matter in hand, Mr. Smart. I daresay your time is valuable. You have no objection to my going over the place with Mr. Saks, I am sure. He is the architect who is to rebuild the castle for me. My attorney and Mr. Pooly,—the notary,—will, with your assistance, draw up the proper contracts preliminary to the formal transfer, and I will sign them with you upon my return."
"Would it not be better to discuss the question of payments before we go any further, Count Tarnowsy?"
"You will be paid in cash, Mr. Smart, the instant the deed is transferred," he said coldly.
I followed him to the top of the stairs which descended23 to the basement of the castle. It was rather significant that he elected to explore the lower regions first of all.
"I shall accompany you," said I deliberately24.
A faint scowl25 came into his face. He eyed me fixedly26 for a moment, then shrugged28 his shoulders and said that his only desire was to avoid putting me to any unnecessary trouble. If I cared to come, he would be more than grateful. "It isn't necessary to visit the cellars, Saks," he said to the architect. "Ample time for that sort of rummaging29. I particularly want your opinion on the condition of the intersecting walls on this floor and above. My scheme of improvements, Mr. Smart, contemplates30 the enlargement of these halls by throwing them into one."
"A very simple process," said I, "if the whole structure doesn't topple down upon your heads while you're about it."
"I shall contrive31 to save my scalp, Mr. Smart, no matter what happens. It is very precious to me."
We went over the castle rather hurriedly, I thought, but he explained that Saks merely wanted a general idea of the structure; he would return another day to make a careful inspection32.
"I daresay you are surprised that I should be willing to pay double your original price for Schloss Rothhoefen," he ventured, pausing in the corridor to light a cigarette. We were on our way to the top of the east wing.
"Oh, no," I said calmly. "I am aware that treasure is buried here. As a matter of fact, I've tried to unearth it myself, but without success. I wish you better luck."
"Thanks," said he laconically33, after the first swift glance of inquiry34. "It is doubtless a fairy tale, handed down by tradition. I take no stock in it. My principal object in acquiring Rothhoefen is to satisfy a certain vanity which besets35 me. I have it on excellent authority that my ex-father-in-law,—the man Titus, you know,—talks of buying the property and performing the stupendous, characteristic American feat6 of removing it, stone and timber, just as it is, to his estate north of New York City. No one but a vulgar, purse-proud American would think of doing such a thing."
The news staggered me. Could there be anything in what he said? If it was true that Jasper Titus contemplated36 such a quixotic move, there could be but one compelling force behind the whim37: sentiment. But not sentiment on the part of Jasper Titus.
"I cannot believe that he considers doing such a thing," I said rather blankly. "You see, if any one should know, I am that one. He has not approached me, of that you may be sure."
He did not appear to be interested. "My information is not authoritative38, Mr. Smart," said he. "It came to me through my representatives who conferred with his lawyers a fortnight ago in regard to certain difficulties that had existed between us. From what they were able to gather, the idea has taken root in the old man's head. Now, I want to buy this place for no other reason than to tell him that he hasn't enough money in his possession to purchase it from me. D'you see? Vanity, you may call it, as I do, but it pleases me to coddle it."
Very thoughtfully I strode along beside him. Would I be serving the Countess ill or well by selling the place to Tarnowsy? It was her whim, of course, and it was a foolish one.
"Suppose that he offered you twice what you are to pay me for the place," said I, struck by a sudden thought.
He laughed easily. "You will not, it seems, acquit39 me of cupidity40, Mr. Smart. I should not sell to him under any consideration. That is final. Take it or leave it."
By this time we were in the rooms once occupied by the Countess. He glanced about the apartment carelessly.
"Deserted41, I observe," he remarked with a queer smile.
My heart almost stood still. "Eh? What do you mean?"
"If I am not mistaken, these are the rooms once occupied by your valet's wife. Am I right?"
I steadied myself. "She has gone away," I said. "Couldn't stand the climate."
"I see," said he, but he was still smiling. "How does your valet stand it?"
"Nicely," said I, with a conscious blush.
"I mean the separation, of course."
"Certainly. He is used to it."
"Isn't it rather odd that he should still think she is here, in the castle?"
"Does he?" I murmured.
"I inquired for her when I encountered him downstairs. He said she was quite well this morning, except for a headache."
"She is subject to headaches, I believe," said I, with the utmost nonchalance42. He lifted his right eyebrow43 slightly, but said no more on the subject.
A pile of rubbish lay heaped in one corner of the room, swept up and left there by the big Schmicks to await the spring house cleaning season I presume. Tarnowsy at first eyed the heap curiously44, then rather intently. Suddenly he strode across the room and gingerly rooted among the odds45 and ends with the toe of his highly polished boot.
To my horror a dilapidated doll detached itself and rolled out upon the floor,—a well-remembered treasure of Rosemary's and so unique in appearance that I doubt if there was another in the world like it. Indeed, I have a distinct recollection of being told that the child's father had painted in the extraordinary features and had himself decorated the original flaxen locks with singular stripes of red and white and blue, a sardonic46 tribute to the home land of her mother.
I turned away as he stooped and picked up the soiled, discarded effigy47. When next I looked at him, out of the corner of my eye, he was holding the doll at arm's length and staring at it with a fixed27 gaze. I knew that he recognised it. There could be no doubt in his mind as to the identity of that tell-tale object. My heart was thumping48 fiercely.
An instant later he rejoined me, but not a word did he utter concerning the strange discovery he had made. His face was set and pallid49, and his eyes were misty50. Involuntarily I looked to see if he had the doll in his hand, and in that glance observed the bulging51 surface of his coat pocket.
In silence we stood there awaiting the reappearance of Saks, who had gone into one of the adjoining rooms. I confess that my hand trembled as I lighted a fresh cigarette. He was staring moodily52 at the floor, his hands clasped behind his back. Something smacking53 of real intelligence ordered me to hold my tongue. I smoked placidly54, yet waited for the outburst. It did not come. It never came. He kept his thoughts, his emotions to himself, and for that single display of restraint on his part I shall always remember him as a true descendant of the nobility.
We tramped down the long flights of stairs side by side, followed by the superfluous55 Mr. Saks, who did all of the talking. He was, I think, discoursing56 on the extraordinary ability of ancient builders, but I am not absolutely certain. I am confident Tarnowsy did not hear a word the fellow said.
In my study we found Poopendyke and the two strangers.
"Have you made out the papers?" demanded the Count harshly. An ugly gleam had come to his eyes, but he did not direct it toward me. Indeed, he seemed to avoid looking at me at all.
"Yes, Count Tarnowsy," said the lawyer. "They are ready for the signatures."
"Perhaps Mr. Smart may have reconsidered his offer to sell," said Tarnowsy. "Let him see the contracts."
"I have not reconsidered," I said quietly.
"You may sign here, Mr. Smart," said the notary, as he gave me the document, a simple contract, I found.
"Jasper Titus will offer more than I can afford to pay," said the Count. "Please do not feel that I am taking an unfair advantage of you. I am absolutely certain that he wants to buy this place for—his granddaughter, a descendant of barons57."
The significance of this remark was obvious, and it was the nearest he ever came to uttering the conviction that had been formed in that
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