“And I pictured you as rejoicing in your freedom! What possessed you to bring a raw lad on a journey like this?”
“I had no intention whatever of taking him, so you were right there. But I telegraphed to him to bring me some things to town, in order to save time, and he was so broken-hearted when he found that he was not to go with me, that I let him come.”
“And what do you expect him to do at Tatarjé?”
“Well, I should say that he would go straight to Nadia, and terrify her out of her wits by telling her that I am gone to prison.”
“Exactly; and Nadia will proceed at once to do something heroic. Will she come here and insist on sharing your captivity, or will she go to the Queen and demand your release?—that is the question. There will be a train in from Tatarjé in a few minutes, so we shall soon see whether she is coming here.”
But the question was to be answered even before the train came in. A deprecating knock at the door heralded the police superintendent with “A telegram for his Excellency the Minister,” and Cyril tore it open.
“Now the fat is in the fire with a vengeance!” he said, when the man had left the room, keeping his eyes upon Caerleon, as though he feared an attack from behind. “Evidently Nadia has gone to the Queen. Stefanovics says, ‘Her Majesty desires your Excellency to present yourself at the Villa immediately. Pray do not delay.’ That is a little warning from himself, of course. Well, I suppose we must take the train back. Oh, you may as well come too. Nadia will suspect me of having made away with you if I don’t produce you in the flesh, and I hope I have provided against the rising for which your appearance was intended to be the signal. At any rate, I have done my part. If the Queen spoils things, it won’t be the first time, and she will suffer as much as I shall. Come along.”
“Not until I get hold of a hat and a decent coat. You don’t expect me to appear in a garb like this?”
“Yes, I do; it’s an excellent disguise. No one in his senses will suspect you of coming to start a revolution in this get-up. Here, turn the collar of that ulster up, and pull your cap well down over your eyes. If I can get you into Tatarjé and out again without being recognised, I will. I shall have a carriage at the station.”
“I should much prefer not to be recognised,” said Caerleon uncomfortably, as they left the police-office. Cyril laughed.