Do you think that it is for your brother"s sake that I have smoothed his _way_ to the throne? No! My reward has always been clear before me. I have looked for it always at your hands."
"At my hands?"
He winced before the amazed scorn of her words. Yet he continued steadily.
"If you are surprised, Countess," he said, "well, I have been the victim of that time-worn fallacy which ascribes to any woman at any time the knowledge of being loved. You have always been the object of my respectful admiration. You are now----"
She threw out her hands--a silencing gesture.
"Enough!" she exclaimed. "I do not know what you are going to say. I do not wish to hear it."
"You must!" he declared. "You shall hear me!"
She turned her back upon him, but he was between her and the door. He turned the key in the lock, and faced her--a new Domiloff, wolf-like, with evil things in his white face and black eyes.
"You shall promise to be my wife," he said, "or----"
"Or what?"
She did not quail. His eyes fell before hers. But the key slipped into his pocket.
"Or you do not leave this house," he answered. "I am master here. The whole quarter is Russian. Be reasonable, Countess. The alliance is worthy of your consideration."
She leaned suddenly forward, and struck him across the cheek.
"You cur," she cried. "I would as soon marry one of my servants."
She beat upon the door and called out. Domiloff drew out his handkerchief and held it to his cheek. He made no effort to silence her. There was a dull red mark across his face. If she could have seen his expression she would have been frightened.
There came no answer to her calling. She rushed across to the window.
There were men on the place below, but they only answered her frantic gestures with dull indifference--at most with a shrug of the shoulders and a smile. They were Russian Jews. It was as Domiloff had said. They were his creatures. It was the one evil spot in Theos. Domiloff stood with his back to her, still with his handkerchief to his face.
She turned upon him fiercely.
"If you do not let me out," she cried, "Nicholas shall shoot you like a dog."
"It may be," he answered, coolly, "that I shall shoot Nicholas. At least there will be something to be wiped out between us. I shall not fear his vengeance."
"What do you mean?" she asked, suddenly cold with the first sensations of fear. The man"s quietness was ominous, and she could see his face now. He put his handkerchief away and came over to her, catching her wrists with a sudden catlike movement.
"It is your own fault," he said. "You will remember that blow to your dying day."
They stood side by side at the window of one of the great reception rooms of the palace, the King and Brand. A driving storm of rain was beating against the gla.s.s, and the thunder rattled amongst the distant hills from peak to peak. Ughtred was looking more pale and hara.s.sed than when he had ridden, sword in hand, in front of his tiny army and watched the Turks closing in around them.
"What is the meaning of it, Brand?" he asked, sadly. "There is something astir which I cannot understand. See how the people throng the Square in front of the Reist house, and scarcely even glance this way. What are they waiting for?"
Brand shook his head.
"The true meaning of it I do not know," he answered, "but there is treason abroad. I am sure of that, and I am sure that Nicholas of Reist is concerned in it."
The King bit his lip. If Nicholas of Reist were a traitor, what hope was there for Theos?
"I do not know these people," he said. "My men are all in the field, or under arms at the barracks. These are not native Thetians."
"They look to me," Brand said, dryly, "like a horde of Russian Jews from across the frontier."
"I am going to ride once more through the city," the King said. "Come with me, Brand."
They left the palace by a side door, and pa.s.sed cautiously along the street, the King with his military cloak wrapped closely about him.
All around was a constant muttering. The people talked together excitedly enough, but without elation. There were no signs that this was a day of victory. The King"s face grew stern.
"I do not know this rabble," he said. "They are not my own people."
"They are the tools of Domiloff," Brand answered. "It is he who is at the root of all this trouble. It is he who has corrupted Nicholas of Reist."
They rode across the Square, and the people scattered before them with muttered imprecations. Brand suddenly turned into a side street and motioned the King to follow him.
"Our police," he said, "have failed to catch Domiloff. Let us try ourselves. I believe I know where he may be found."
The King"s face lightened, and he touched his horse with the spur. But Brand hesitated.
"The place is in a bad quarter," he said. "There will be risk."
But Ughtred laughed.
"With a guard," he said, "we should have no chance. You and I alone will take Domiloff."
CHAPTER XLVIII
The storm had driven away the crowd of loiterers from in front of the Cafe Metropolitan. The King and Brand stood under one of the small lime trees which bordered the road, watching the place. The lower room, unshuttered, and lit with several flaring gas jets, was filled with a crowd of men drinking and singing songs. From the upper windows came no sign of life.
"That is where I believe that Domiloff is hiding," Brand declared. "Do you see what a rabble that is inside the _cafe_?"
The King nodded.
"Russian Jews, every one of them," he said. "Anyhow, there are too many of them for us to enter the place single-handed.
"Brand, take one of the horses, and ride to the barracks. Bring down a guard of twenty-five men. I will wait here."
Brand nodded, and hurried away to the corner of the street, where they had left the horses. The King lit a cigar, shielding the light as much as possible with his hand, and leaned against the trunk of the tree.
Five minutes pa.s.sed, ten, a quarter of an hour. The King, whose thoughts were none of the pleasantest, grew impatient. Suddenly, the cigar dropped from his fingers. He sprang forward with beating heart, bewildered, incredulous. For he had seen a strange thing.