The Golden Bough

While Rowland was planning how best to take advantage of this extraordinary situation, the train came to a stop again and he distinctly heard Von Stromberg's voice, the caressing voice that Rowland remembered, giving some orders to the guard.

"In the second compartment of the last car," he said suavely, "you will find a very beautiful lady. You will recognize her by her hair which is as black as a raven's wing. Present my compliments and say that General von Stromberg will be honored if she will share the journey with him."

"Zu befehl, Excellenz," muttered the man and departed toward the rear of the train, running.

Even now, Rowland did not realize just what the message meant and until the guard returned accompanied by a slender woman in dark clothes with a small hat set rakishly upon her head, Rowland didn't know that the beautiful lady with the dark hair was Zoya Rochal. She stood for a moment in the glow of the open door, it seemed looking up directly at the shadow where Rowland was as their glances met. Then he heard Von Stromberg's voice welcoming her.

"Ach, Madame. This is indeed a pleasure. And I had feared that I should be forced to pass this tedious journey with no one but myself for company … unless an evil conscience… I pray you to enter and make yourself quite at home. The guard will bring your luggage… So. Of course I had forgotten that you left Munich so suddenly," and then as she hesitated, his voice more insistent, "Come, Madame, if you please."

Rowland heard her climb the steps, heard the door shut behind her and then the shaken tones of her voice.

"Herr General-how did you know-?"

"Madame, do not pry behind my scenes. It spoils the effect. I know everything. It's my trade. The thing was so much more simple since there is but one train to Lindau. I was notified at Pasing the moment you entered your compartment. You do not object to the smell of tobacco? So. Perhaps you will even condescend to smoke a cigarette with me…"

The train was rumbling on into the darkness again and Rowland for the moment could hear no more. Indeed his ears were filled with one phrase and he could hear no other. "I know everything-I know everything," even the car wheels announced it, the exhaust of the locomotive as the train went up grade. If Von Stromberg was omniscient, he was surely aware of Rowland perched on the car-top just above his head, listening at the ventilator. Something of the terror that Zoya had expressed for the old man's devilish ingenuity came over Rowland at this moment. He had seen something of Von Stromberg's power of will. He wasn't frightened in the physical sense, for fear of that kind clogs the brain, the heart, the muscles, – but the fact of Zoya's presence and the old demon's knowledge of it had given Rowland a new sense of Von Stromberg's skill in divination which anticipated what it could not guess, and guessed what it could not anticipate. In all reason Von Stromberg could have no possible means of knowing that Rowland had "jumped" the train at Friedenheim and was now crouched upon the top listening to this very interesting conversation. Back there in the Schwaiger Strasse Rowland had heard Zoya Rochal swear to the old man that he, Rowland, had escaped from Munich, but Rowland would have felt much more comfortable if Zoya hadn't come. What did her presence mean? Had she found out from Frau Nisko that Rowland had inquired as to the trains for Lindau, and, determined to repair the dreadful damage she had done, had decided to follow Tanya and Markov to the Bodensee and help them in the danger of Von Stromberg's pursuit? Or had she come seeking Rowland, trying in helping him escape to atone for her treachery? Or had her mission some less pleasant purpose?

Whatever her intentions whether good or bad, the fact of her presence alone with Von Stromberg in the railway carriage below him was in itself a threat against Rowland's security. For Zoya knew that he planned to be on this train or she wouldn't have come. And what might not the clever brain of the great Councilor succeed in wheedling from this woman of uncertain quality by persuasion, bribery, or threat during the long night journey that lay before them? Rowland lay flat upon the cartop, his ear near the ventilator, but could hear nothing except the low murmur of their voices. Once he heard Von Stromberg's laugh and then a little later Zoya's. They seemed to be getting on famously for with the odor of the masculine cigar came that of a Russian cigarette. Rowland did not trust her… Beneath the smooth veneer that she had for years so carefully applied, she had shown him tonight the rough grain beneath-the Tartar grain-and he had scratched it…

Perhaps she would give him away to the old man who would have the train searched. At the next stop, Rowland had half expected it, but when nothing happened he breathed more freely. At least so far she had held her tongue. There was some good in the woman-some loyalty left-loyalty for Rowland at least that had rightfully belonged to Herr Markov, whom she had betrayed. Love-whatever it was that she had for Rowland-whatever it was … had kept her lips sealed.

As the hours passed and nothing happened, Rowland gained confidence in his luck. Barring new treachery in Zoya Rochal, or some miraculous guess-work from his enemy below, or the searching daylight, he would come through safely to Tanya. And if he didn't get through safely to Tanya, he wouldn't be the only one who went down. It was going to be a "peach" of a "scrap" while it lasted-a "peach," and the old pelican would be one of those to keep him company in the last adventure.

But wasn't there something better than killing a lot of railroad guards (old gentlemen, with white whiskers for the most part with families of grandchildren at home) to say nothing of getting killed one's self? That wouldn't help America much, or France, or even the Society of Nemi. What he had come into Germany for was to save Tanya from Hochwald and bring the money back into Switzerland. He was on his way; and unless some unforeseen disaster had occurred-unless Frau Nisko had failed him, the money and Tanya were already nearing Lindau. With success so near, he couldn't lose-he mustn't.

And then the train stopped at Kaufbeuren. It had been in motion for more than two hours, but the sound of voices was still to be heard in the carriage below. Rowland tried to make out what they said.

"My prisoner, Madame… Well to submit with a good grace… I mistrust your generosity … broken faith… Manage this affair alone … pay you well if I succeed. But at Lindau … the military prison for a few days. I will give especial instructions as to your comfort."

"Not prison, Excellency-"

"For a few days only… I am sorry. I can't forget your help in this affair. A glass of wine-never travel without it. The ventilator? Permit me."

"Excellency, I can reach quite easily from the seat." Her voice came suddenly very near Rowland's ear. He heard her fingers on the mechanism and as he peered in through the hole in the roof a white object appeared within touch of his fingers-a tiny scrap of paper! He thrust his fingers in carefully and seized it. A message from Zoya before Von Stromberg's very eyes… But he couldn't understand how…

He waited until the train moved on again and then brought the paper close to the ventilator to read the penciled scrawl.

"Patience," he read. "Before daylight."

That was all. But it was eloquent enough. He lay flat again, puzzled but jubilant. She had been looking for him as she came forward to Von Stromberg's compartment and had seen him crouching in the gloom above. She had guessed what he would do. That was clever of her. The old pelican wasn't the only one who could guess. Rowland suddenly had a sense of doing Zoya a great injustice, a great wrong. He had been brutal with her back there in the room in the Schwaiger Strasse, because he had thought that what she had done was beneath contempt-forgetting her wound, her weariness, and the fear she had for this sardonic old brute who even now was talking of committing her to prison. She could be no less weary now than she had been four hours ago and yet he found her planning to save him and to save those others from the results of her treachery. What was she going to do? Not murder-that would be a Boche vengeance. He couldn't consent to that. But even if he wanted to prevent, what could he do unless he came down and revealed himself and that would make an end of them both.

And so Rowland waited, his ear close to the ventilator, listening. The sounds of their voices, Zoya's laugh, the clink of glasses-was this the weak link in the old man's armor? "Wein, weib-" And after a while he heard no sound of any kind. What was happening? The train was winding laboriously up through a narrow dark valley beside a mountain tarn. From time to time a red glare shot from the furnace doors of the locomotive and then a shower of cinders fell upon him. The air was chill and Rowland shivered with the cold. A glance at the East alarmed him, for the first signs of the coming dawn had appeared. It would not be long before daylight would come and with it discovery of his position by some switchman or station agent. He crouched lower clinging to the ventilator and listened again. A sound, repeated at regular intervals and growing in volume … a snore, a man's snore. Von Stromberg slept. And then he heard Zoya's voice close at his ear.

"Philippe," it said. "He sleeps. You must come down. But wait a moment. I will see."

He waited breathless and in a moment heard her at the window of the compartment. Then her voice again.

"There is no stop for half an hour yet. You must descend."

"Where is the guard?" he asked.

"In the carriage in front. Descend by the rear and enter. The window is open."

"Good."

With a glance around, Rowland raised his head and slowly slid his body backwards until he found the iron ladder by which he had climbed and descended, waiting a moment at the corner of the car to peer out along the guards and then bending down below the line of windows swung himself along the steps to the window where Zoya was awaiting him and in a moment had tumbled in head first upon the floor beside her. In the dim light of the further corner Von Stromberg lay sprawled helpless, his head back, his mouth open, snoring stentoriously. He was not pretty to look at. But he wasn't in the least formidable. Teeth were missing. He was only senility asleep.

Rowland stared at him a moment in wonder.

"What has happened?" he asked.

"My medicine-the opiate-in his wine glass. He never knew."

"You didn't give him too much?"

"I hope not. There was nothing else to do."

Rowland caught her by the hand.

"Zoya-you're four square. It's fifty-fifty now. Forgive me."

"And you?" she questioned.

"I'm sorry. I'm a beast. We'll beat him now. But the guard-"

"He won't bother us. His Excellency gave orders that he was not to be disturbed. The guard has not dared to look in since. But we'll draw the curtain again."

They stood hand in hand and gazed at the prostrate giant.

"To think that anything like that could frighten one," said Rowland with a grin. "I think I could die happy if I tickled his nose." And then, "How did you know I was there?"

"I didn't until I saw you. I searched at Munich. It was a fearful risk for you to take."

"I had to take it. But I'll confess I didn't know what I was going to do when daylight came-unless I tumbled off. I'm not quite sure that I know now."

"The train stops at Weissenburg. We must get off there-by the opposite door and run for it."

"Are you up to it, Zoya? You've had no sleep-the excitement-"

"I'm no weakling, mon brave."

The daylight filtered slowly through the curtain of the carriage and still Von Stromberg slept. Twice the train stopped and each time, by way of precaution, Rowland crouched in a corner hidden under the traveling rug of His Excellency, At the second station Zoya pulled up the curtain and inquired of the guard the distance yet to be traveled. Herr Graf von Stromberg was asleep and desired on no account to be disturbed even when they reached their destination. If he still slept, the car was to remain in the station. Was this understood? She spoke in tones of authority and the man bowed and said he would repeat the orders. Madame need have no fear that they would not be obeyed.

Zoya's face was pallid and the cold light of the morning was merciless, but she smiled at Rowland and sat calmly beside their sleeping enemy, fully aware of the nature of the sacrifice she had made. Her fate was now bound up with Rowland's, his with hers. Failure now meant the extreme penalty of this man's power for them both-and his power was limitless. But a change had come over her since the scene in the room in the Schwaiger Strasse. She was very quiet, very pale, smiling when he spoke but making few comments and uttering no reproaches. She was like a soul already judged-already condemned and awaiting punishment. Rowland took her hand and held it in his. It was very cold and made no response to his pressure. It seemed that all the good in her, all the bad, all the noble, all the selfish, all indeed that was Zoya Rochal had been fused in the heat of a great emotion, then suddenly chilled with disillusion.

"Zoya," he said softly, "I'm sorry."

She smiled a little. "As you have said, it's fifty-fifty, mon brave. But I am no fool. I am aware of the sacrifice I make-for Her." She laughed aloud. "My sickness has made me weak. My claws are sheathed, mon Philippe. I shall not scratch her. I have paid-have I not?"

"Yes, Zoya-in full-"

She gave a sigh and a little shrug that seemed meant to deny it.

"It is strange. I seem to look upon you now as one who happened a long while since. You belong to a dream of what might have been. You are very young, mon Philippe-also beautiful and brutal as a god-"

"Oh I say, Zoya-"

"I talk across a distance, Philippe-from a dream. You threw me to the floor brutally. I adored you. It was curious. Never in my life before Philippe, I swear it. Not like this. Even with this girl waiting for you yonder, I knew that I had to-I had to save you-to repair the damage and pay my debt-Fifty-fifty, as you say, mon Philippe."

"You've paid already-"

"I have an idea that I shall pay more… No. You do not know. In the end the woman pays for all-with interest. The balance will yet be on my side of the ledger."

"I'll square it, Zoya, – some way," he muttered.

Her fingers moved in his.

"You may square it now, mon Philippe," she whispered, "for all time. Kiss me… No … upon the brow, – a Benedictus… Voilà! I am forgiven, nicht wahr-cleansed-the new fire burns up the old."

She rose abruptly and peered out through the slit in the curtain.

"Clean-cold-passionless-like the new day," she muttered. "It cannot be long now. You shall succeed-"

"You too-we will cross the lake somehow-to freedom."

"Perhaps-at least I have done what I could, n'est ce pas?" She raised the hand of Von Stromberg and let it drop upon the seat. "He will do," she smiled, "but his snore is like the ride of the Valkyries. No one will dare disturb him. Have you ever been to Lindau?"

"No," he replied, "but it's on an island. Lindenhof is what we want-a village a mile to the west. Do you think you can make it?"

"Three miles from Weissenberg-Yes. I don't seem to be tired."

He looked at her anxiously. Her face was paler even than before in the cool light, but its expression was quite calm and even smiling.

A sudden grinding of the brakes of the train as it drew into a station, while the guards called out its name. Rowland, stumbling over the legs of the prostrate Von Stromberg, rushed to the left hand door, lowered the window and peered out. The train came to a stop.

"Luck! Zoya!" whispered Rowland. "A train of goods cars just opposite. We've got to start at once."

And without further words, he stepped on the seat and swung himself out of the window to the step below. Without a moment's hesitation, Zoya followed, feet first, and Rowland lowered her beside him and after closing the window of the compartment took her hand in his and together they bent forward beneath the goods car, where they paused in a moment of danger while Rowland whispered,

"I will go first. Our clothing-we must not be seen together. Follow when I pause."

And with a slight pressure of the fingers he left her, and crawled out upon the further side. There was but one person in sight-a gate woman, her back turned. Rowland walked a few steps, then paused and Zoya emerged and followed him. He turned into a country road to the southward, walking rapidly until he reached a clump of trees where he waited until Zoya came up with him, when he drew her into the security of the bushes where he bade her sit down a moment to rest while they planned which way to go.

In which direction was Lindenhof? And where Schloss Kempelstein?

CHAPTER XXV

KEMPELSTEIN

"Chère Zoya," said Rowland, in a moment as he smoked a much desired cigarette, "this will not do at all, we must never be seen together in these costumes. You look like the front cover of a fashion magazine and I-like a coal miner up for the air. But we haven't any time to lose. In ten minutes the Sleeping Beauty will roll into the Bahnhof at Lindau waiting for someone to wake him with a kiss. They'll be getting suspicious in fifteen minutes and after that they'll go over this smiling land with a fine-tooth comb. And if there are no teeth out of it, they'll draw something. There's one way."

"What, Philippe-

"A bee-line for the lake-"

"How far is it?"

"Not over a mile or so, I think. You can see the water shimmering through the trees."

"Let's go then-"

"You're not too tired?"

"No. Lead on. I'll follow."

He peered out of their place of concealment and walked in a leisurely way along the road. Behind them at the Railroad Gate the old woman still sat knitting. Both trains had gone. The way to the lake was clear, a country road, little traveled. A fresh breeze had started up and the sun had broken above the low hanging bands of moisture and laid a pretty pattern of the shimmering foliage across his path. The business of escaping seemed absurdly simple-only a few miles of water between himself and freedom.

But the uncertainty about Tanya and Markov made him grave. Had they received his message last night and if so had they heeded it and come on safely to Lindenhof. More "ifs" came suddenly into his mind than he cared to think about. Markov was clever, and with the hurdy-gurdy could have been counted on to reach Schloss Kempelstein without difficulty. But without the hurdy-gurdy, and surrounded by police and soldiers all of whom had been notified of his passage across Bavaria, how would he fare? Was he equal to such an emergency? That was the risk. In a moment Rowland had proof of the thoroughness with which Von Stromberg had done his work, for at the next crossing two provincial policemen awaited his approach, scrutinizing him carefully.

He nodded to them cheerfully and bade them good morning, but they stood in his path and he stopped, rather alarmed at the unexpected turn of events. But he kept his easy poise admirably and his grin disarmed them.

"Your name please?" asked the older man.

"With pleasure," politely, "Leo Knaus."

"You are of the railroad?"

"Assuredly. Do I not look black enough?"

"Quite so. Where do you live?"

"In Kempten."

"Where do you go now?"

Rowland laughed.

"To the lake for a bath. You would like to do the same if you had spent the night upon my locomotive."

Here the younger man broke in, "The man described has gray hair. As you will see, that of Herr Knaus is black."

"Aye, and his skin too," laughed Rowland. And then, "You were looking for someone?"

"A tall man with gray hair and a girl whose hair is reddish brown. You did not see by chance upon the road, a hurdy-gurdy, a piano-organ on wheels, drawn by a small donkey?"

"I am a fireman. There is no time to examine the scenery. But wait-" Rowland took off his cap and scratched his head. "A hurdy-gurdy you say? With a donkey?"

"Yes-yes. You've seen-?"

"I think-I'm sure. Yesterday near Immenstadt-a donkey-a very small donkey?"

"Yes-a small donkey-and a man and woman walking-"

"At dusk last night, where the railroad and the highway ran parallel near the lake of Immenstadt. I am sure. There is no grade there and I was resting-leaning against the side of my coal-box-My engineer, Duveneck-"

"That does not matter-you are sure of what you tell?"

"Positive."

"You will report to the Weissenburg Station when you have had your bath?"

"Assuredly. My engine is there. I go on duty this afternoon."

"Good-"

At this moment Zoya Rochal came up to the group and, staring blankly, passed on.

"Reddish hair," repeated the older man.

"Of course I could not see the color of the woman's hair-"

"We will see to this at once. The telegraph, Nussbaum-"

And off they went, traveling back along the road by which Rowland had come. With a grin he watched them depart on their wild-goose chase. Immenstadt was east, Weingarten west. "And never the twain shall meet-" he quoted cheerfully to himself, aware of the fact that not yet had the net been closed around Markov and Tanya. And he, Rowland, had perhaps widened its mouth by fifty miles or so. But such expedients were dangerous and made the necessity for his disappearance and Zoya's from the immediate neighborhood a matter of great urgency. He went on toward the Lake following Zoya Rochal, compelling his feet to move slowly, while every impulse urged speed. Already the sleeping Von Stromberg must have been discovered and it would not be many minutes before the alarm would go out for Zoya Rochal. Her trim dark figure moved steadily in front of him a hundred yards away, slowly reducing the distance to the water which Rowland could now see at the foot of the lane. There were boats there, he could see them clearly now, boats of all kinds … Zoya seemed to move more slowly-more painfully … she was tired out. He hurried forward and passed her. "Courage," he whispered, "we are not suspected. Can you go on?" She was very pale. "Yes-yes-a little faint-"

"Courage," he repeated.

He strode on more rapidly now, passing through a village of small frame houses of the poorer sort, reaching the foot of the lane where there was a jetty, beyond which several sail-boats were anchored. There was an old man on the jetty cleaning some fish which he had taken out of a sail-boat alongside. Rowland lighted a cigarette and approached him leisurely.

"Good luck?" he asked.

The man looked up with the taciturnity of fishermen.

"Fair," he said.

"Any boats to hire?"

The man looked Rowland over from top to toe, his fish-knife suspended in the air.

"You don't think I can pay because I am a workman. I am off for a holiday, my friend. See." And Rowland exhibited a hundred mark note with an air of great pride. The fisherman became more interested at once. But shook his head.

"There is a new law about renting boats to strangers. You must have a pass from the officer commanding at Lindau."

Rowland laughed.

"Strangers! That's pretty good. And me working between Weissenburg and Kempten for ten years."

The fisherman rose and took up his bucket of fish.

"I'm sorry. Your money is as good as anyone else's, but it can't be done."

Rowland looked around him quickly. There was no one in sight upon the shore and only the slender figure of Zoya Rochal slowly approaching him along the jetty. Alongside the raft to which the man had descended to wash his fish was the sail-boat he had used. The breeze was fresh and from the South. The boom swung noisily to and fro. Rowland's mind was working rapidly.

Zoya joined him. "Courage," he whispered. "Go down."

She obeyed him, descending the wooden steps to the lower level. The fisherman looked up indifferently and rose, his fish strung.

"You're sure you don't want to change your mind?" asked Rowland pleasantly.

"No-it is verboten."

"Is this your boat?"

"Yes-but-"

"A hundred marks, Herr Fisherman," said Rowland bringing the money out and holding it before the man's eyes again.