Ashton-Kirk, Special Detective. John T. McIntyre

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ an unusual thing to come upon one who knows anything of the Count’s life or doings,” said he. “I agree with you that the historians do not make the most of the exploit of the ford, nor do they give him any of the credit that is his due in other matters. It is my intention to write his biography some day; and I hope in that way to give him, in some small part at least, the place among the great outlanders which is rightfully his.”

      “Splendid!” applauded the crime specialist, while Bat Scanlon stood by and looked and listened in amazement. “That’s a fine idea. The romance of two periods, and of three countries is in your hands. Such things are done too seldom in this day; in our hurry and bustle we have no time for the heroes of the past.”

      Young Campe looked at Sergeant-Major Kretz. But the grim face of the German was turned away; it was as though he knew what was to be asked in the look, and so saved himself the mortification of giving advice which he felt would not be taken.

      “I am living a more or less retired life just now, Mr. Ashton-Kirk,” said Campe, “and make it a rule to receive no one. But,” and here his gaze went to Scanlon, “since you are a friend of Mr. Scanlon’s, and are on the ground, it would hardly do,” and here he smiled, though faindy, “to turn you away.”

      “Kirk,” said Scanlon, “has been my friend for years. He’s quite a fellow in his way and has been of service to many folks, who were ready to put up their hands and quit. Now, here’s your little matter,” eagerly: “he could take hold of that, and—”

      But the voice of Ashton-Kirk broke in on him swiftly, but with a smoothness that covered its haste.

      “Our friend Scanlon,” said he, smilingly, “is something of an enthusiast. He has too much confidence in my little array of historical incident. But,” and his singular eyes looked steadily into those of Campe, “if I can be of any assistance to you in the memoirs which you mean to prepare, you may command me. I shall be only too glad.” “That’s what I thought,” stated Scanlon, blowing his nose and growing very red. “I know you’ve got this historical stuff piled in till it’s over your ears; so what’s more natural than that you should give Campe a lift?”

      “It may be that at some future time, when I am in the frame of mind for quiet study, I shall avail myself of your knowledge, sir,” said Campe, as they walked toward the castle. “But at the present time,” and once more the smile, though even fainter than before, showed itself, “I am much taken up with more active matters, and have not the leisure.”

      Kretz took a huge key from his pocket and unlocked the gate; then he stood aside and the others passed in. The gate was at once relocked.

      “This,” said Ashton-Kirk, as he looked about, “would resist a considerable force, even at this day.”

      The high gray wall towered above their heads; it was of great thickness and its strength was evident.

      Young Campe looked up at it and shook his head.

      “It's strong enough,” said he. “But for all that, Mr. Ashton-Kirk, it cannot keep out thoughts; and thoughts, if they are strongly marked and along a definite line, are more to be feared than armies.”

      They crossed the flagged court of which Scanlon had spoken and entered by the high, narrow door. A gloomy passage brought them to a room, the same, evidently, in which Bat had been received, for it was furnished with heavy oaken tables and chairs of ancient design, had a vaulted ceiling and was ornamented with the heads of huge stags and boars, and with trophies of arms, all of a day far past.

      A girl stood at one side feeding a thrush through the bars of a basket cage; she was attired in a gown flowing and white, her hair was the color of yellow silk, parted in the center, and hanging down over her breast in two thick braids.

      “Miss Knowles,” said Campe, and the girl turned. “A friend of Mr. Scanlon,” continued the young man, “Mr. Ashton-Kirk.”

      The girl was very beautiful; her skin was like velvet, and her color like roses. She was smiling as the crime specialist bowed to her; but upon the instant that his name was mentioned, the receptacle which held the grain she had been offering the bird fell to the stone floor and smashed; the delicate color left her cheeks; she stood staring, her blue eyes full of consternation.

      “Grace!” cried Campe, in alarm.

      But in a single instant she had recovered herself; the color rushed back to her face, the smile returned to the lips.

      “It is nothing at all,” she said. “That headache of which I complained yesterday seems not to have all gone. I’ve felt a little faint several times this morning.”

      “You should not be about,” said Campe, anxiously. “And perhaps it would be best if a doctor saw you.”

      The girl smiled sweetly. Her teeth were magnificent; and her lips were scarlet

      “Some stunner, eh?” whispered Bat Scanlon to Ashton-Kirk.

      “To be about is the best thing I can do,” said Miss Knowles. Then with a mischievous look, “Mr. Kirk will think I’m quite an invalid.”

      She was really a splendid creature, large and beautifully formed; her complexion, her eyes, the great crown of yellow hair and the flowing white gown gave her the appearance, backed as she was by the gray trophy-hung wall, of having stepped out of a medieval picture—the stately lady of some great baron, or the daughter of a belted earl.

      “Invalids seem rather plenty hereabouts,” said Ashton-Kirk with a quiet smile. “But none of them at all resembled you, Miss Knowles.”

      It seemed, to the eyes of Bat Scanlon, that a change came into the beautiful face—a subtie something, swift as the thought that occasioned it, and gone as quickly.

      “You’ve been to the inn,” she said with a gesture of dismay. “Poor things; isn’t it dreadful? Some of them are really heart-breaking, they seem so helpless.”

      “You’ve visited the inn yourself, then?” and there was a mild note of inquiry in the pleasant voice.

      “Oh, no; but I ride sometimes among the hills of a morning. It's a glorious place for that; and I meet them stalking slowly along, or being wheeled in their chairs. Perhaps it is the contrast between the vigor of the season and their wretched state, but at any rate I feel very bad about it all.”

      “Mr. Kirk is a student of American history, and is interested in Schwartzberg and the builder,” Campe informed the girl. “I am about to show him over the place. Will you go along?”

      “Indeed, yes.” Then to Ashton-Kirk, “I never get tired of the splendid old building; most of my time is spent in wandering about from room to room, imagining the history it does not possess,” with a smile which once more showed her beautiful teeth. “Oh, if it were only as rich in romance as it seems to be I If the good Count Hohenlo had only performed some of his deeds here.”

      “Who knows,” smiled Ashton-Kirk, “but that it has been left to a later time to give the old place the needed touch.”

      “But,” said Miss Knowles, lightly, as they followed Campe out of the room and along a passage, “there are no strange knights to beat upon the portals with the handles of their swords; there are no arquebuseers to swarm over the wall.”

      “No; СКАЧАТЬ