“Proof!” D’Alquen returned. “Is any proof necessary to one who is not blind? Why are these people living at the farm? Why is Zarka there so constantly and on such a confidential footing, if there is no understanding between them? Is it not known that a woman was the instrument of Roel’s spiriting away? She has disappeared too, for a good reason, and I say she is here.”
He spoke in a tone of fierce conviction, and Von Tressen, surprised and recalling the scene he had witnessed that morning, for the moment could not reply. Galabin spoke.
“We are hardly in a position to disprove or even contradict what you assert——”
“But I do,” Von Tressen broke in warmly. “You have no proof, mein Herr, only surmise and suspicion. It is unchivalrous, unmanly, to take away a lady’s reputation on such grounds.”
“You are a fine champion, mein Lieutenant,” D’Alquen returned with a sneer. “But I maintain that to any one not blinded by partiality the evidence I have is conclusive. Let me—ah! Look,” he cried suddenly breaking off and pointing excitedly towards the valley which lay before them. “Yonder!—yonder! Who is that?”
The other two looked eagerly towards the spot he indicated. For a few seconds the drifting clouds let a stream of moonlight fall aslant the valley. And across this band of light a figure was moving quickly—a woman. Then a thick bank of cloud swept over the moon and all was darkness, as Von Tressen sprang forward with a cry almost of despair. D’Alquen laughed.
CHAPTER XXIV
THE NECK-BAND
It took a great deal, in a general way, to astonish Aubray Zarka, nevertheless the frame of mind in which that enterprising nobleman rode to Gorla’s farm next day was one bordering on sheer amazement. And the cause of his wonder was the mysterious wound which had thrown his cousin Royda d’Ivady into a fever. The doctor who had been summoned was a discreet man, even for a physician, and he had promised his very interesting patient to abstain from all allusion to that puncture in the right shoulder; but face to face with Zarka, ever suspiciously on the alert, his resolution was swept away like thistle-down. Poor man! The countenance of the lord of Rozsnyo was more to him than the secret of a hysterical girl; so the existence of the rapier wound was disclosed. But Doctor Horvath could not tell his patron one thing, for he did not know it himself, although he found some difficulty in persuading the Count of that—how the wound had come to be inflicted. Neither could he find this out from his patient, although, at a hint from Zarka, he tried to do so.
But Zarka found it out—at least enough to enable him to make a shrewd guess at the rest. How—probably no one but himself exactly knew—but the fact that Royda’s fever made her occasionally light-headed may furnish a clue to the means.
“You will be sorry to hear that my cousin Royda d’Ivady is seriously ill,” he remarked to Philippa when they met. She stole an apprehensive glance at him, but his face was even more smilingly inscrutable than usual.