Trusia: A Princess of Krovitch. Brinton Davis

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СКАЧАТЬ war. A great jeweled star moved sluggishly upon it above her faintly struggling breast. The centre of the medal bore a lion rampant in blue enamel. On the beast's head was a royal crown. There was something suggestive about it which awakened his mind to grope tentacle-like for that of which it was reminiscent.

      A startled exclamation from Carrick caused him to look up quickly. Fumbling nervously at his shirt with one hand, with the other the wide-eyed Cockney was pointing at the star.

      "The guvnor's shiner," he exclaimed excitedly as he drew forth from the folds of his blouse a battered duplicate of the medal she wore.

      Barring its condition attributable to time and rough usage it was similar in every respect.

      Growing surmise as to its origin and Carrick's connection thereto were interrupted by a tearful incoherence on the part of the reviving girl. Her bosom heaved convulsively, her eyes opened wide and startled into life. She arose to a sitting posture glancing around as a child might who has been suddenly awakened from slumber. Carter still knelt at her side with ready arm for her support should weakness overtake her.

      Like the sweep of rose light across a sunset land, the blush of recollection passed over her face, as the full details of the catastrophe came back to her and she recalled that, inevitably, this stranger had held her in his arms while he had performed services strictly feminine. Her eyes retreated behind the satin sheen of their lids. She struggled to her feet.

      "Pardon, monsieur," she addressed him in the French of St. Germain. "Where is my gentleman? And my horses, where are they? Horses, hereabouts, are strangers to the automobile."

      "Both have bolted, mademoiselle, doubtless for that very reason. I feel very guilty, I assure you. I hope and pray that you are not seriously hurt. I assure you that I would have given anything to have spared you that fall. Can you ever forgive me? Will you let me make amends?"

      As one born of high places, she raised her eyes straight and frankly to his. Reading sincere regret and pain in the face of this handsome stranger, she smiled as she generously held out her hand.

      "You are forgiven," she said graciously. "I am only a trifle shaken. Will you kindly take me to my castle in your car, as I do not wish my people to worry?"

      Nothing could have more tactfully displaced Carter's self-censure than this expressed wish of hers. Seeing that she was still weak he gravely offered his arm for her support.

      Lightly she placed her gauntleted hand upon his elbow, but soft as that touch was, no other woman had so thrilled him.

      "To whom am I indebted, monsieur?" she asked with native curiosity.

      "Calvert Carter, of New York, mademoiselle, is indebted to you for overlooking the accident he has caused."

      "Mr. Carter," she added in delicious English, "the Duchess of Schallberg is grateful for your kindness. The question of indebtedness we will not pursue. It is not a good basis of friendship."

      This was the Duchess of Schallberg; the possible aspirant to its throne?

      "You – you are Trusia?" he stammered.

      "I am the Lady Trusia," she corrected gently.

      VI

      THE GRAY MAN AGAIN

      "Which wye?" asked Carrick who, having started the auto, kept his eyes steadily on the road in front of him and shot the question over his shoulder.

      "Straight ahead. The lady is unconscious again."

      This was true, for as they entered the car Carter had been just in time to catch the Lady Trusia in his arms as she toppled forward in a sudden return of the fainting spell.

      "Why not back to the inn, sir?"

      Carrick's suggestion betrayed that he shared his companion's concern for Her Grace of Schallberg.

      "I'd rather not. We are not popular there and I feel present conditions would hardly increase their friendship. We'll try the castle. I fancy that's her home, anyhow."

      He glanced up to where, distinctly outlined, its towers in the clouds, they beheld the grim structure, recognizable from its significant location as the one they had espied from the thither side of the forest.

      "Where's the wye to it?" The chauffeur was puzzled, for straight before them the cliff ran perpendicular to the side of the road, without an apparent break. "Must be on the other side, sir, for blyme it's not on this."

      "More speed then, Carrick. This faint promises to last awhile."

      Carter bent over the unconscious Trusia, and, as he noted the powerful effort of her strong soul to beat off the paralysis of the senses, a thrill of tenderness shot through him.

      For a man with Calvert Carter's strength of character to hold a beautiful girl in his arms it would be inevitable that a certain sense of ownership should subconsciously mingle with his thoughts of her. The germ of love may be discovered in propinquity.

      Be that as it may, as the lax slender form in his arms set his heart beating wildly, he was tempted to crush her to his breast and to press his lips savagely, yearningly, upon her tender mouth. Then, in reaction, her helplessness appealed to him and aroused all the chivalry of his nature. For less than the space of a sigh the primitive savage within him had struggled with the gentleman, – and the gentleman had won. This very conflict with himself, however, had increased though it had chastened his desire. The more personal concern he now felt for her recovery was but another expression of the primal instinct dignified by discipline.

      Meanwhile the touring car had been lurching forward with increasing acceleration for more than a quarter of a mile, when, surprising them agreeably, the cliff apparently opened, showing a narrow way cut through its face, leading directly up to the castle. Before the distant portal a group of horsemen could be seen making preparations for departure.

      "Evidently a relief party. That riderless horse of hers must have returned and started an alarm."

      "They see us, sir," said Carrick, who had brought the machine to a stop. "They're pulling up. It's a good thing, as there's barely room for me to run the car up, without their crowding the road."

      So saying he carefully swung into the narrow way and soon accomplished the ascent. Passing under a portcullis as mediæval as that of any Rhenish castle, they stopped in an ancient, stone-flagged courtyard. On every side, thronging about them, they met the vengeful, scowling eyes of men in a frenzy of fear and hate, while a growling murmur of resentment greeted their ears as the mob recognized their liege lady apparently dead in the arms of a stranger. To their discipline as soldiers, for these men wore uniforms similar to those seen already at the inn, the two adventurers probably owed salvation from instant dismemberment. In their faces Calvert Carter read the unreasoning fury of their souls, experiencing his nearest approach to fear, yet he met them eye for eye.

      Standing apart, his handsome boyish head hung in shame, as if ostracized for incompetency, stood a young fellow whom Carter recognized as the escort of the Lady Trusia. His face was pale and dejected. Apparently unaware of the presence of the strangers, he was fingering his revolver holster.

      The heavy gate closed behind them with an ominous clang. A chill ran down Carter's spine. If bad came to worst he resolved to sell his life dearly, for murder electrified the air and was closing in around them from every side.

      A wicket suddenly opened in the studded door of the castle before them. Two men stepped through СКАЧАТЬ