The Golden Bough

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PRIEST

Tanya was again called at daylight and after an excellent breakfast they were on their way, Tanya afoot, until they neared the high road when she coolly bade good-bye to Herr Hochwald and without further words entered her prison to be driven all morning steadily towards Weingarten.

"He has gone on," reported Herr Markov after a while.

"That is well. But we must not trust him," she replied, "until we are safe upon the other border of the lake."

"Will you forgive me, Fräulein?" asked Markov.

She raised the lid of her queer carriage and thrust out her hand toward him. "With all my heart, my friend," and then: "Do you think he has any idea of what we carry?"

"I don't Know, but he shall not take it."

"You are armed?"

"Yes. He must keep away from us. Late tonight we will be at the Zweisler Waldhaus near Weingarten. There I am well known-among old friends-you shall see."

"Do you think there will be a message from Munich?" she questioned anxiously.

"I hope so. That we received none at Memmingen was an indication only that all is well with Herr Rowland."

"I pray that may be true," she said earnestly.

A wagon was coming along the road in front of them and so Tanya lowered the lid quickly and was silent.

Herr Hochwald did not approach them all that day. Markov reported his figure in the distance two or three times but it was not until dusk when the lights of Weingarten leaped into view before them that they came upon him suddenly at a turn in the road waiting for them.

"A long day," he muttered. "I am weary. Where do you go tonight?"

Markov halted Fra Umberto and throwing the reins over the donkey's back strode forward determinedly.

"We will come to an agreement here and now, Herr Hochwald," he said with grim politeness. "Our ways hare parted-yonder. The night is fine-your robe heavy. You will sleep quite comfortably under the stars. As for us-whither we go is no concern of yours. Is it understood?"

Hochwald looked up at the tall figure for a moment, then shrugged.

"As you please. Drive on, Herr Musician."

Markov examined the man a moment in silence, and then obeyed, but as they approached Weingarten Herr Markov reported the dark figure a threatening shade in the gloom following at a distance behind them.

But they reached the Waldhaus without further incident. It was an inn, built in a much earlier day, at some distance from the high road and situated at the edge of a thick forest of well-grown pine trees. The proprietor was a compatriot of Herr Markov's, a small man with an expansive smile and a huge paunch upon which the privations of the war had made little impression. When Fra Umberto had been put into a stable and the packages of notes brought into the house and safely hidden in a room up-stairs, Tanya and Markov breathed more freely, for though nothing had been seen of the black cassock of Herr Hochwald for an hour or more, Tanya knew that he could not be far away.

When all their arrangements for the night had been completed, Markov despatched Herr Zweisler to the telegraph office for messages for Herr Liedenthal, the name that he and Rowland had agreed upon when they had arranged their code.

It was midnight before Herr Zweisler returned but he brought the message, which Markov and Tanya eagerly deciphered by the light of the kitchen lamp.

In English it would have read somewhat as follows:

"Three beds at twenty marks, seven chairs at three marks, two washstands, one bureau, forty-one marks, all used but in good condition, bought to-day Munich and will be shipped by Weingarten to Lindenhof when railway facilities permit."

Decoded, this meant: "Pursuit. Leave donkey Weingarten. Am coming Lindenhof."

The hay-cart creaked up hill and down dale all the long night. From time to time Tanya, lying comfortably in concealment, slept uneasily and in her waking moments peered out over the tail board along the gray stretch of road where she had last seen the figure of the monk, a dark blot on the velvety night. Once he had come quite near until he walked only a few paces behind the cart, but Markov had warned him away and at last he had sullenly obeyed. For an hour or more now they had lost sight of him, but with the coming of the dawn, they saw in the distance a market cart like their own and upon its seat with the driver, the figure in black. Herr Hochwald was tireless and persistent.

The message from Rowland had been alarming. "Pursuit!" That meant immediate discovery unless they deserted Fra Umberto and the hurdy-gurdy. It meant discovery perhaps even there at the Waldhaus of the hospitable Herr Zweisler, if any agents of the police had noticed them traveling that day toward Weingarten. The rest of the message was explicit. "Leave donkey Weingarten-Am coming Lindenhof." There was nothing to do, weary as they were, but obey. And so negotiating at once with a neighbor of the inn-keeper, they had managed for a proper consideration to hire the hay-cart in which they were now approaching their destination. Beneath the hay in an old bag that Herr Zweisler had provided were the bank notes of Nemi.

No one had bothered them, at least no one but the threatening figure of the false monk, and Markov seemed fairly confident of dealing with that gentleman when the time came. The owner of their cart was a country lout, too stupid to ask questions, content with a small bundle of five-mark notes which were the excellent compensation for the use of his cart, which was to be returned in a few days.

But as the gray dawn spread over the heavens and from the high hill over which their long road wound, Tanya could see in the distance far below her the pale mist rising from the lake. She had for the first time a feeling that success was within her reach. To hire a boat to sail across to the Swiss shore seemed simplicity itself, for at Arbon or Romanshorn, she would throw herself and her possessions upon the protection of the Swiss authorities until a wire to Shestov or Barthou would bring them to identify her and reclaim the property of the Society of Nemi. But success without the safety of Philippe Rowland was not to be thought of. "Am coming Lindenhof," he had wired. But how? When? The fact of his coming through from Munich by train, covering in a few short hours the distance that she and Herr Markov had taken four weary days to travel, seemed almost unbelievable. And yet Herr Markov was hopeful. He had great confidence in the ingenuity of Herr Rowland and the message had been explicit. "Am coming Lindenhof." And since the code messages had been filed at the Haupt Bahnhof before eleven o'clock last night, Herr Rowland had planned in some way to take the night train from Munich which would reach Lindau in the early morning. The reasoning was sound-too obvious indeed to Tanya, who knew that the excellent Herr Markov could do no less than encourage her in the belief that all would go well. She knew that already Philippe had succeeded in accomplishing the impossible by the very spontaneity of his daring, but to travel openly upon a train from Munich bound for the Swiss border could be nothing less in Tanya's eyes than the wildest desperation which only courted the death he had so far miraculously escaped. She feared for him now-more than ever and regretted painfully, as she had already done many times upon her journey, that she had consented to leave him in danger in Munich, while she had gone on in comparative safety with Herr Markov. And yet success seemed so near. The Swiss shore came out of the mists like a pleasant mirage of a sought for oasis to the thirsty in the desert. An hour more to Lindenhof, an hour upon the water and-safety!

But not without Philippe! As to that she was resolved. The very imminence of their meeting, the chances of failure, the danger of arrest for them all, the joyous meaning of success-all these possibilities conflicting in the turmoil of her thoughts, had tried her endurance to its limit, and her nerves were stretched to the breaking point. But the patient face of Herr Markov was her inspiration. He merely smiled at her calmly and bade her have courage, for he knew that she would still have need of it.

As they approached Lindau the market-cart in which Herr Hochwald rode, drew nearer and Tanya saw him descend and hurry forward to overtake them. Herr Markov stopped the hay-cart and got down upon the ground.

"I've warned you, Herr Hochwald," he said coolly, "that I will have no interference with the affairs of the Fräulein. We offer no impediment to your escape. Go your ways, but leave us in peace."

Hochwald smiled at Tanya who was sitting upright, listening.

"Have I not avoided you?"

"We shall do better alone. Do you go on, Herr Hochwald-or shall we?"

"With your permission we will wait a moment and discuss the matter. Just beyond the hill ahead of us is Bodolz. It is a town upon the railroad and there we will find officials, telegraph officers and soldiers from the Lindau Kaserne who keep guard."

"And what of that. My word against yours. Prison for us all-"

"Perhaps. But not if you act the part of wisdom."

"What do you want?"

"Merely to accompany you across the lake-"

"Impossible-"

"It is very little that I ask of you. Think a moment. Suppose that I should reveal the real meaning of your journey, the actual value of the truck load you haul to market-!"

Markov and Tanya exchanged helpless glances. He knew-had known all the while.

"You see," continued Hochwald easily, "we have indeed come to the parting of the ways. Beyond Bodolz-safety, if I go with you. Refuse me now, Herr Markov, and you will never pass the Bahnhof."

"And when I denounce you-"

Hochwald laughed.

"I shall merely say that I am an agent of the Government who has followed you here from Munich. They may arrest me but His Excellency will forgive me much if I bring him this excellent proof of my fealty." He paused with a shrug and turned to Tanya. "If the Fräulein will deign to advise-Herr Markov is somewhat undetermined."

With a sinking heart Tanya assented, crawling back miserably under the hay. Herr Markov climbed up to his seat and they drove on, Hochwald following boldly some paces in the rear.

At Bodolz, a soldier stood in the middle of the road. And even while Herr Markov was wondering what he should say to him, Herr Hochwald strode forward toward a corporal who stood leaning against the railroad gate smoking a pipe.

"Fodder and farm produce for the abbey at Enzisweiler," he said soberly. "I came up last night."

The soldier nodded, and then inquired, "You've seen nothing of a man driving a donkey hitched to a piano organ?"

"No-nothing."

"Pass, Father."

Markov drove on, across the railroad tracks down the hill. Was there an abbey at Enzisweiler? He didn't know, but he couldn't help admiring the skill with which Herr Hochwald had guided them past a difficulty which might have proved embarrassing.

Below the hill Markov gathered new courage for familiar landmarks were all about him, and there on the border of the lake not half a mile away was their destination.

"I hope that you know where you're going, Herr Markov," said Hochwald with a laugh.

The words of Markov's reply were inaudible to Tanya, but there was a world of meaning in his tone. She lay in concealment while the cart rumbled across more railroad tracks over a rough road and finally came to a stop. At a word from Markov she emerged from her place of concealment and sat up looking around her. She was in a quadrangle or court yard paved with cobbles, the walls and buildings surrounding it in tumbled ruins. But in front of her upon the margin of the lake was a tower, once doubtless the keep of this ancient edifice, which still stood defying the tooth of time and at the present moment showed definite signs of occupancy, for upon a clothes line beside the handsome Gothic portal hung a variety of masculine undergarments, like Schloss Kempelstein itself, in various stages of disrepair. There were fishing-nets in the sunlight on the small jetty and piles of baskets and bottles under the protection of a wooden lean-to against a broken wall. Herr Markov had told Tanya something of Herr Gratz, the eccentric owner of this domain and so she was not unprepared for his greeting.

He emerged from the Gothic doorway almost immediately, an unprepossessing creature, in soiled flannel trousers and undershirt. He had a pointed nose, small eyes deeply set under shaggy gray brows and as he strode forth from the door peering at his visitors, he seemed far from hospitable.

"And what do you want?" he began.

"Food, Ludwig," said Markov.

Herr Gratz halted suddenly at the sound of Markov's voice and stared at him, the ugly shadows in his face lifting magically.

"You, Matthias!"

"The same-"

"But Fra Umberto-and the 'instrument of torture-'"

"Sh-More of that later. For the present-the Fräulein here is weary-a long journey-"

"A Fräulein-and a Priest! Strange companions for Matthias Markov, who has so long forsworn both." He burst into laughter, a dry cackle which indicated disuse.

Herr Markov brought forth the bag from beneath the hay and followed their host into the tower, the lower floor of which served as kitchen and living room.

"If you will go upstairs, Fräulein-" said Herr Markov, "I will bring you food and coffee."

Markov, bag in hand, with the air of a familiar to the premises, already led the way. Hochwald watched him narrowly for a moment.

"Our agreement holds here, Herr Markov," he flung after him, "as well as upon the road." Markov chose to treat the remark with silence, but the millions of Nemi weighed upon him heavily. Though he was not a fighter by nature, the situation perplexed rather than intimidated him. He knew that Hochwald was quite capable of carrying out his threat to reveal their secret to the authorities, and the experience with the guard at Bodolz had convinced him that the slightest sign of trouble here at Lindenhof, the firing of shots, the sound of cries which could be heard upon the highway nearby or upon the lake would mean speedy capture. But he knew also that Herr Hochwald's other plan to reach Switzerland safely with the Fräulein and the money was the one he proposed to carry out unless Markov could prevent it. Hochwald's own safety hung on silence too. So long as they remained in Germany Markov, Tanya, and Hochwald shared a common secret and a common danger, any one of them powerless without the silence and coöperation of the other two. A strange partnership which Markov desired to terminate at the earliest opportunity. But how? To kill, yes, but he didn't believe in killing unless in self-defense. This was not his own quarrel, but his honor demanded the protection of Fräulein Korasov. He would protect her, but the Fräulein was going to make it difficult. She would not embark until Herr Rowland appeared. Suppose that he didn't come-that something had happened! It was of this that Tanya spoke when they reached the upper floor.

"It is eight o'clock, Herr Markov," she said nervously.

"Herr Rowland is doubtless moving cautiously. Do not become alarmed."

"That man… He frightens me. What do you propose to do?"

"Are you fit to go on?"

"Yes-but not-" She paused and searched his face anxiously. "Do you think that Herr Rowland could have failed?"

He shrugged.

"How can I tell, Fräulein," he replied softly.

CHAPTER XXIV

A NIGHT ADVENTURE

After clasping Frau Nisko warmly by the hand, Rowland left Number 16 Schwaiger Strasse and went out into the darkness of a small street at the rear of the house. The clock on the kitchen wall had told the hour of ten and he realized that he had a little more than an hour to accomplish his purpose of boarding the train for Lindau. It would be suicide to attempt without a passport the purchase of a ticket at the Haupt Bahnhof, and it was with a feeling of great uncertainty as to the result of the project that he made his way across the bridge and in the general direction of the railway station. He knew that any appearance of hesitation in his manner in the streets would lead to questions and arrest and so whistling cheerfully to keep up his courage he went his way along the Sommer Strasse as far as the Schwanthaler Museum (the very one of which he, Prof. Leo Knaus, was curator) when, the Haupt Bahnhof looming in sight, he turned to his left and followed a street which ran parallel to the railroad tracks. Having come this far he felt more encouraged for he was now in a region of breweries and factories where his rough clothes were less conspicuous than in the fashionable region through which he had just passed. He realized that he wasn't very pretty to look at, for there was a six days' growth of beard upon his chin and the dust of the garret had completed the damage to Georg Senf's clothing, begun the other night upon the roofs.

Poor Senf! It was prison for him-and for Weiss and Benz. The hour was not ripe for mutiny in Germany-but there had been signs… Next winter when the pinch of hunger came…

But this was no time to be thinking of misfortunes of the Munich Committeemen. Prison for a while and then conditional release, with a warning… His own case was more desperate and required a desperate expedient-to board the eleven-thirteen train without buying a ticket. He went on until he reached the edge of the brewery district where he stopped in a small tobacconist's to buy pipe tobacco and ask questions. The man behind the counter was old and querulous, but Rowland found out what he wished to know-that he had already passed the switches of the freight yards and that the straight double track to Pasing began just here at Friedenheim. Rowland didn't wait to discuss the matter further, for a clock upon the shelf indicated that the hour of eleven was near, and so, leaving the old man staring after him, he went out abruptly and strode rapidly eastward, crossing the tracks and at last coming to a stop in the shadow of an abutment close to the rails.

A train passed going toward the city and another approached him going eastward, but it could scarcely be the time yet. So he waited and watched it pass-(a train of goods-cars) – calculating its speed and figuring on his chances of success. If the speed of the eleven thirteen was no greater than this… But what if he missed it-or boarded a train for Berlin by mistake? He would have to take that chance. Silence except for the distant rattle of the train that had passed. He glanced around him. There was no one near, no lights, no watchmen-no police. He had chosen well. There was a cinder path beside the track-if for few seconds he could get up as much speed as the train-that was all he needed, that and a good grip on something…

Another train leaving Munich. He could see its lights and hear the rattle of its wheels as it crossed the switches. He had tried to figure the passage of the minutes since he had left the tobacconist's and was sure that the time of departure of the train he wanted had long since passed. This must be it then. He pulled his cap down firmly over his ears and peered out. The exhaust of the locomotive warned him that this was an express, slowly gathering speed, but it was do or die now. A light along the rails-Rowland stepped back in the shadows, an arm over his eyes to protect them from the glare. Then a deafening clank and roar as the engine passed, ever gathering speed. Rowland waited until one car passed-two-then darted out, running furiously and sprang for the step as it passed. A wrench at his arm-pit, a moment of doubt as he clutched at the rail, and then, he lay along the foot board of the old fashioned car, for the moment quite safe. There was no guard in sight but he could not tell how soon one would appear-probably at Pasing, less than five minutes away, and so clutching at the nearest guard rail, he crouched and moved to the rear end of the coach. There was one dark compartment but he did not dare raise his head above the sill to look in, nor had he any intention of entering it. Indeed he had already made his plan, and moving with great caution found an iron ladder between the cars and climbed quickly to the top of the coach, along which he crawled upon hands and knees and finally lay flat with arms and legs extended, bruised and breathless but quite happy. He grinned to himself at the ease with which the thing had been accomplished, and thought of the mess he would have made of himself if he had tried to take liberties of this kind with the Empire State Express or the Manhattan Limited.

At Pasing he heard the call of the guard which reassured him that he had made no mistake. This was the Lindau train, all right, and the Bodensee but eight or ten hours away. If they did not see him-if no one looked up… He crawled over to the side away from the lights of the platform. The travelers were all intent upon getting into their places and the guards in putting them there, so that the sprawling figure in the gloom above them only a few feet away escaped notice. But Rowland saw and heard. There was a delay of a few moments while the officials waited for a tall man who had gotten down from a machine alongside the platform. Rowland heard his rasping voice, saw the guard salute and take his valise; heard the obsequious "Excellency" of the station agent and then the door of a compartment just below him crashed to and the train moved off into the darkness. There was no mistaking Von Stromberg, and his presence was reasonable enough, – even his departure from Pasing instead of from the Haupt Bahnhof where he might have been recognized by those who could balk his plans. Rowland wondered at his own stupidity in not realizing that the Herr General would go to Lindau rather than entrust so important an affair to a subordinate. And if to Lindau why not on the only train which left for that place tonight? And here he was, the old villain, in the compartment Rowland might have entered, not ten feet from where Rowland lay. Zoya Rochal had said of Rowland that he was never so happy as when he was shooting at somebody and at this moment Rowland confessed to a strong desire to justify the statement. He crawled along the top of the carriage until he reached the ventilator which let into the compartment Von Stromberg had entered, but of course could see nothing. There was an odor of a good cigar, the rattle of a newspaper and then silence. Rowland had seen no one but von Stromberg enter the compartment and since there was no sound of other voices below him Rowland knew that the Herr General was alone.