CHAPTER XIX
CAPITULATION
It was early next morning when Saunders knocked at Mark Griffin's door. His knock was soft, for Mark's room adjoined Father Murray's. When Mark rose to let him in, the detective entered on tiptoe.
"I came down to see you early," he said, "because I wanted to dodge the Padre, and I thought perhaps he'd be over in the church for his Mass."
"A good Yankee guess," said Mark. "I heard him leave a few minutes ago, so you can talk as loud as you like. What is the matter? Anything gone wrong?"
"It's just this," said the detective. "We must make our attempt to get Miss Atheson without the Padre's knowing anything about it. I have been thinking about the thing, and I have a plan I believe will work. It's out of the question to get that guard off the watch in any ordinary way. If we attempt it, the house will be alarmed and we shall be taken for burglars."
"What difference if we are?" said Mark, very warmly. "If the Ministry can stand publicity, we can. I am in favor of taking strong measures right now."
"Not on your life, Griffin. Not on your life," said Saunders. "You don't seem to realize that the Padre cannot stand strong measures. Arrest as burglars would mean publicity, and there would be all sorts of fierce stories in the press. He is a priest—and then some."
"Well, what of it?"
"Sure, I know," soothed Saunders. "But the papers aren't in the journalistic game for dignity, and they'd play the Padre up for all he was worth; the more yellow the story, the better. The lady must be gotten out of the Ministry quietly. Once we have her, it will be up to the Ministry to make the next move. I have a hunch that His Excellency won't make it."
"Well," said Mark grudgingly, "I suppose the quiet way is the better way. What is your plan? Why not let Father Murray know?"
"I can't let him know, because he'd want to be in on it. At all risks, he's got to be kept out. What I propose to do is to start up such a trouble in the rear of the house that, for five minutes at least, there'll be no guard in the front."
"You would have to set it on fire to do that."
Saunders put his finger impressively upon a button of Mark's pajamas.
"You've guessed it, first shot out of the box. That's just what I'm going to do. Rather, that's what we're going to do."
Mark looked at him in solemn silence.
"Saunders, what did you have to put you in this condition?"
"Plain water and a cold bath," answered Saunders promptly.
"Then perhaps you'll explain."
"It'll be easy. They can put the fire out after the lady has gotten away. The Minister is going to dinner to-night. Madame Minister—or whatever you call her—will be with him; so will his flock of girls, and so, of course, will His Excellency's secretary. The rest of his staff don't live there. I figure that the guards, and the servants, and Miss Atheson will be the only ones in the house. The fire will bring all but Miss Atheson to the back. A rope ladder skillfully thrown will do the rest. Now you see why I can't mix the Padre up in that. We may be arrested, though I don't think we shall. The Minister doesn't want anything of that kind. This morning I'll flash the night escape signal to Miss Atheson. She'll be ready to leave, and you may be sure she'll find a way to warn us if the guard is still around. To-night you make an excuse to the Padre and slip away. He's going to see a friend anyhow at the University out in Brookland. I heard him say so. Tell him not to worry if you happen to be out when he comes back. Fix it up any way you like, and we'll make the play and win."
"Who's to do the 'skillful throwing' of the ladder?"
"A friend of mine who used to be a fireman."
"Do you think you can get him?"
"I've engaged him already."
"H-m." Mark stared at the detective, then burst forth with, "What time did you get up?"
"I didn't have to get up. I haven't gone to bed yet."
Mark sat down in his chair to think. After a while he put out his hand to the detective.
"I believe you've got it, Saunders. I'll do it—but you'd better get some rest"
"Me for my little trundle bed." And Saunders, in high spirits, waved his hand as he went out the door.
Left alone, Mark proceeded to dress, but awaited Father Murray's return before going down to breakfast. The time seemed long after breakfast, but at length the priest prepared to leave the hotel.
Mark spoke nonchalantly. "Oh, Father, I'm going out in the country with some friends, and may not get back till quite late to-night."
"All right, Mark. I hope you have a pleasant trip."
It was so easy that Mark felt a trifle worried. His device was crude, and the priest had never before been so easily deceived.
It was midnight when a big automobile containing Saunders, his ex-fireman friend and Mark, drew up cautiously on a side street near the Ministry. The men at first walked quietly past the house. They saw a light in the apartment occupied by Ruth, but there seemed to be no other light within. They then walked around the block, passing a policeman at the corner, and entered the alley behind the Ministry on the other side, out of the bluecoat's sight. There was no one in the back yard, and Saunders easily effected an entrance into the garage, which was not far from the house. Taking from his pocket an ordinary hot-water bag, he knocked the lock off the gasoline tank and proceeded to fill the bag with gasoline. Then he turned to Mark.
"That's all back here for you. Leave the rear work to me. Go around, you two, and get the ladder. In fifteen minutes I'll have a fire at the back door. You'll probably see the light. As soon as you hear cries from the house, listen well and you'll know whether or not the guard has rushed back. The big door-window on the balcony is always left open so that the guard can command the window of Miss Atheson's room, and you can easily hear him open and close the inside door. If he doesn't leave, the game's up. As soon as you are sure he's gone, throw up the ladder. If you get Miss Atheson, don't wait for me. Rush her to the automobile and back to the hotel. I'll take care of myself. Now go on, and wait for the big noise."
The three men moved toward the door, but fell back when they saw a dark figure plainly outlined against the dim light behind him. Saunders said something under his breath. The ex-fireman turned pale, for he thought it was a policeman.
"The country is beautiful in the autumn, isn't it, Mark?"
Mark was as embarrassed as any small boy caught in truancy.
"I thought you took things rather quietly, Father—I might have known it was too good to be true. What did you come here for? You surely knew it was something we could not have you concerned in."
The priest laughed at Mark's rueful tone.
"You should have known better, Mark, than to think I could be so easily deceived. I am going to be mixed up in anything that concerns the welfare of Ruth. Besides," he added, with another quiet laugh, "I heard everything you two said this morning. I saw Saunders coming down the hall as I was leaving, and, as it was rather early for a casual visit, I came back to see what he was up to."
"Then why in—I beg your pardon, Father—why in all common sense," blurted out Saunders, "did you come here? You can't help, and we are taking the only possible way."
"Happily," rejoined Father Murray, "it is not the only way. Come out of this, and I will tell you something you will be very glad to hear. Let us get back to your automobile. We must not go very far away, for we have yet to call at the Ministry, when His Excellency returns."
"To-night?"
"This morning," gently corrected the priest. It was now well on toward one o'clock.
The three men obeyed him. The ex-fireman got into the automobile, while Mark and Saunders walked with Father Murray a short distance off. When they were out of earshot, the priest turned to his companions.
"You two have been working your own plans while I have been working mine. When you had finished your little secret conference, I went to St. Patrick's and said Mass. When I returned to the hotel, Mark didn't seem to appreciate my company, so I left rather early. Before going to Brookland, I called at the State Department. Happily, I know someone quite high up, so I had no trouble. I told him the whole story, and he promised to help me. A few hours ago he sent for me again and—" the priest smiled at his hearers' evident anxiety to hear the details—"and everything will be all right now. We are to see the Minister as soon as he returns from the banquet. He will probably be back by one o'clock, and he will listen—and listen well—to what I have to say. The guard will be off before we leave, and Ruth will be at the hotel before noon."
"But, Father," said Mark, "how can you do it? The State Department cannot get into this thing officially—cannot interfere at all. It is too delicate. To-morrow morning Ruth will be on her way to the seacoast, as sure as fate. She will be kept hidden there until that warship comes."
"The warship will not come," answered Father Murray. "His Majesty's warships will be engaged very busily for some time to come. My information—information which so far has not leaked out to the public—is that the Big Kingdom is on the verge of war. There will be no warship flying that flag on this side of the water for a long time."
"War!" said Saunders. "But how does that help us?"
Before Father Murray could reply, an automobile passed swiftly.
"That is the Minister," remarked Saunders.
The priest looked up. "We must hurry. Leave everything to me."
Walking hastily, the trio approached the Minister, who had stopped at the curb to give some order to his chauffeur. The ladies of the party had already entered the house, accompanied by the secretary.
It was Father Murray who spoke.
"Pardon us, Your Excellency, for intruding on you at this hour, but it is necessary that we should speak to you at once. With your permission, we will go inside."
The Minister looked disturbed.
"Surely you know the hopelessness of it? I must warn you that you can secure nothing through violence. My guard would not hesitate to take forcible measures."
"There is no need to worry about that, Your Excellency," replied the priest. "No need at all. We shall not resort to violence. It will not be necessary. But the matter is important, and we must speak to you at once."
The words were spoken sharply. His Excellency hesitated for a moment longer, then threw out his hand and motioned them toward the house.
"Very well, gentlemen. Come."
The unwelcome guests were shown into the drawing-room and the lights switched on. His Excellency put his hat aside and turned to face his callers.
"It is already late, gentlemen, and I will ask you to be as brief as possible. What is it you wish?"
"We shall not detain you any longer than is absolutely necessary," said Father Murray. "Yesterday I received a visit from your secretary, who informed me that the probabilities were so strong that it was my niece who had been killed in the railroad accident that you would be obliged to decide against my claims for the present."
"That is exactly the case," replied His Excellency. "Permit me to say, Reverend Sir, that I can do nothing else. The Grand Duke is dead, and His Majesty has taken charge of the matter. The Grand Duchess is a ruler herself, at the present time. It is true she is only a foolish girl, who ran away to marry a nonentity—but affairs of state are greater than affairs of the heart. At all risks she must return to Ecknor. I must be certain of her identity before I can make another move. I appreciate the delicacy of the situation. I know that I have practically kidnaped the girl. But I am certain your State Department will want no trouble about it, nor will mine. If you are right, and the girl is your niece, you have no cause to fear for her; she will be returned to this country at once. If, on the contrary, she is the Grand Duchess, there is no reason why you should seek to have her taken away from us."
"Her own wishes—" began Saunders.
"Pardon me, sir. Her own wishes have nothing to do with the matter. I confess that it is embarrassing that she does not want to go, but it is more embarrassing that she ever went away. She must return to her country, wishes or no wishes. I will consider nothing else. I have my orders, and I shall obey them." The Minister turned toward the door, evidently desirous that his visitors should leave. "I will ask you to excuse me now, gentlemen."
But matters had not been arranged to Father Murray's satisfaction. He made no move to go, and looked straight into His Excellency's face as he spoke.
"Your Excellency has of course been informed of the critical condition of affairs in Europe?"
"I do not understand."
Though somewhat surprised, the priest could not doubt the sincerity of the speaker. He hesitated but a moment, then spoke quietly.
"Before the conversation proceeds farther, may I suggest that it might be well for Your Excellency to see if there are any late dispatches from your home government?" Noticing the Minister's haughty astonishment, he added, "I have come from the Department of State."
The Minister was startled, and turned to leave the room. "Pardon me a moment, gentlemen."
Mark turned to the priest. "What have you up your sleeve, Father?"
Father Murray only smiled. "I think, Mark," he said, "that you are certainly improving in the American brand of English. 'Up your sleeve' is decidedly good United States. You will want to stay with us—even though you are a Baron."
Mark could get no more out of the priest.
In a few minutes His Excellency returned, his face showing signs of extreme annoyance.
"I thank you, Reverend Sir," he said courteously. "I cannot understand why my dispatches were not delivered to me at the banquet. I can only express my regret." Father Murray bowed, and the Minister went on:
"The lady is probably asleep now, but I think I may safely promise that in a few hours she will be with you. It is more than probable that I shall relinquish all claims upon her."
Father Murray smiled and picked up his hat which was lying on a table.
"We may expect the lady before noon?"
"Yes."
"I thank Your Excellency. Permit us to bid you good morning."
With a courteous bow, Father Murray took his leave, followed by Mark and Saunders. The last they saw of His Excellency was the top of his head as he bowed them out.
Father Murray chuckled all the way back to the hotel—and kept his counsel. When they arrived at his bedroom door, Mark stopped him.
"Great Heavens, Father! You're not going to leave us in the dark like this?"
"'In the dark' is very good United States, Mark."
"But what does it mean? What card did you play?"
Father Murray's hand was on the doorknob, his eyes dancing with merriment.
"They say, Mark, that a royal flush beats everything. Well, I played that."
Mark tried to catch him but, with a low chuckle, he slipped into the room and closed the door.