“I cannot believe it,” she said calmly. But the darker idea of a sinister intent prompting the falsehood began to take shape in her mind.
“Will you hear what my man has to say?” Irromar asked.
“No,” she answered, with a cold repression that seemed almost indifference. “At least, not now. I will wait, since there seems yet no chance of our departure.”
He bowed. “I shall be but too honoured and happy to keep you as my guest,” he said, unchecked by her significantly averted face. “Will you pardon my boldness, Fräulein, if I must tell you that, should we unhappily find that your friends have deserted you, you have found another, a devoted friend, in Karl Irromar?”
She returned no answer, gave no sign even that she heard him, and he judged it wise to leave her.
CHAPTER XXII
AN UNEXPECTED DEVELOPMENT
NIGHT, falling over the dark forest, effectually hid Ludovic and Ompertz, who were making their stealthy way towards the trysting-place. All through the dragging hours of that weary afternoon they had lain hidden among the rocks, having before them the curtain of a great clump of brushwood. Once they saw a couple of armed men stroll by: they wore the Count’s heraldic badge on their arms, and, by their manner, were evidently a patrol keeping a quiet look-out. Possibly, however, with the idea that their chief’s late guests were hardly likely to have run the risk of lingering so near the castle, the guard made no serious search for them, contenting themselves with a casual sharp watch. That was the only incident to break the monotony of those anxious hours; it served to give the lurkers assurance that their presence was hardly expected.
Never was the falling dusk so welcome as on that evening. When it was safely dark, the two stole out, eager to be about their desperate attempt. For to entertain the idea that they two, even with the lady’s help, could rescue the prisoners from a man so powerful, so resourceful, so wary as the Count, and get them away from his prison-like stronghold, was, could they have considered it soberly, nothing short of madness. But, in truth, their situation was as desperate as was their venture; they could not view it dispassionately if they would. Action was imperative; delay intolerable; the danger and distress of the prisoners was bound to increase every moment they remained in that robber’s den.
The two men had but half a mile to go from their hiding-place to the rendezvous, but the nature of the ground they traversed, and the need of extreme caution left little remaining of the half-hour after night-fall which was their appointed time. Save for a few dim streaks of moonlight which filtered through the trees, the wood was perplexingly dark as they crept through it. Stealing along like marauding panthers, they arrived at length, without incident or alarm, at the meeting-place. No one was there. Standing close to a great tree, they waited for their guide’s appearance. Scarcely a sound broke the stillness, as they stood there, keenly watchful; the slightest movement or rustle seemed intensified in that black atmosphere of silence; the two men drew their very breaths cautiously, as they strained their eyes into the darkness for the first glimpse of an abnormal movement. But none came to end their motionless impatience. Minutes passed without any indication that the tryst was to be kept. At last, when the appointed time was well past, Ludovic whispered to his companion, “Let us go forward. She may be here waiting for us, as we are for her.”
Ompertz nodded and they crept out warily into the path. All was still; ahead of them they could see a dull haze of light rising, evidently from the lighted windows of the castle below. Suddenly Ompertz put out his hand and touched Ludovic, then pointed forwards to an object which his trained eye had detected dimly outlined against the faint light. Surely it was the figure of a woman standing beside the path. So the lady had been waiting for them all the while. Vexed at their short-sighted caution, which had lost so much time, Ludovic went quickly forward. She stood quietly, so motionless that they wondered she did not turn at their approach. She had taken her position rather unwisely, Ompertz thought, at a spot where a thin shaft of moonlight pierced the trees, bringing her figure into a somewhat dangerous prominence. As Ludovic came within a few paces of her, he saw it was she whom they looked for: his hand was raised in the act of salutation, when suddenly, as though shot, he stopped with a great start and a half cry.