CHAPTER XVIII
TWO FIGHT: ONE FALLS
Fenton left the room with his mind filled with surging, angry emotions. For some time he paced up and down in front of the lodge, thinking over what the princess had told him and vainly cudgeling his brain for a plan to circumvent the Grand Duke. He could not yet accept defeat. Instead, he felt confident that there was some way out, that he could save her. The more he struggled with the problem and realised the cunning with which Miridoff had made his plans, the greater became his determination.
He finally sought out Crane and frankly put the facts before him. Although he had known the voluble and irascible young Englishman for little more than a day, Fenton had already come to place the utmost reliance in him. On the tramp that afternoon from Larescu's headquarters they had discussed the political situation in Ironia, and Fenton had unreservedly stated the incidents leading up to the abduction of the princess.
Crane heard of the latest development with every manifestation of deep anger. But his resentment, after all, had to spend itself in futile threats and mighty sounding oaths; he had no practical suggestions to offer.
"The part of it that I can't understand," said Fenton finally, "is with reference to the gipsy band who are to perform this infamous ceremony. I thought Larescu controlled all the people in the hills."
"You'll run into wandering tribes of gipsies in all parts of the Balkan countries," replied Crane, shaking his head. "They have no nationality. They come and go as they please and know no law but the word of their chief. One of the hill men told me to-night that some of the Pesth band were camped over there to the west of us. They'll do anything, these gipsies, if the reward is sufficient or the pressure brought to bear strong enough."
"It's my opinion that Miridoff is bluffing," declared Fenton, clutching at a straw. "He is trying to frighten the princess into marrying him. For all we know, Prince Peter is now safe at home in Serajoz."
But again Crane shook his head. "I don't think so," he said. "When you know Ironia as well as I do, you'll realise that this is exactly what might be expected to happen. Prince Peter stands in Miridoff's path—he must be removed. The princess refuses to marry him—she must be forced. There is no way of warning the prince. If the pledge is not sent in the way prescribed—Peter will surely die."
Hastily, desperately they debated many plans, but discarded them all as either too dangerous or not feasible, and it was with a feeling closely akin to despair that Fenton finally realised the time had come for Olga to keep the appointment at the Hawk's Rest—and that he had found no way to save her. Then all of a sudden determination came to him. He sprang to his feet and grimly examined his revolvers to see if they were properly loaded.
"It may be necessary for the princess to go through with this marriage in order to save her father's life," he declared, with implacable purpose burning in his eyes. "But Miridoff shall never return to Kirkalisse. That I swear."