CHAPTER XXVI
I SHOOT WITH THE COUNT
I resumed my watch that night, but all my vigilance and patience were without result. The Monastery was as dark and lifeless as ever. There was no more digging in the wood; for that I was thankful, since now there seemed a good chance that Asta von Winterstein was alive. It seemed almost as though there were some reason for sparing her life, or why had a false report of her death been spread. But the whole affair was a puzzle at which I could but vaguely guess.
Next day, however, adventure began to loom again before me.
After breakfast I was in my room preparing an equipment for the day’s sport when the inn servant announced that a gentleman was asking for me below. I naturally supposed it was Strode, who had come over instead of waiting at the appointed meeting-place. What was my surprise on running downstairs to find myself face to face with Count Furello.
Count Furello in sporting garb, a gun in his hand, and a dog at his heels. He greeted me effusively.
“My dear Mr. Tyrrell! You! This is unkind of you to keep me in ignorance of your being within reach of my hospitality. I hear to-day, by accident, that an Englishman is staying here. I hasten to offer my services, and I find—you! Well, and how do you like our Geierthal? Is it not picturesque enough for you? I hope your stay will not be as short as most of your countrymen would make it.”
With a flow of polite chatter he followed me into the coffee-room. I had recovered from the effect of his unexpected visit and was now on the alert.
“You, too, are for sport to-day,” he continued, having declined my offer of refreshment. “You shall come with me to my preserves. I can promise you some sport. You can have found but rough shooting on the common land here.”
Now, needless to say, my distrust of this man was absolutely unmitigated. I knew that his tone and his professions were utterly false; that the real object of his call was, in all probability, of a far more sinister nature than to show hospitality or afford me sport. Nevertheless, having no fear for myself and an intense desire to penetrate the mystery of Fräulein von Winterstein’s fate, I rather welcomed the Count’s appearance. It might at least give me a chance of action, of mere watching to no purpose I had had enough.