'Because I can read a man.'

'And you read me so? Then hear me. I take the place you have given me. I take my place as the least staunch of all the Guard. You have told me so much, unmasked so clearly what you intend to do, that, unless I fall in with your wishes, I can never hope to leave this room except feet foremost. I say this. Now see me act as the least staunch of the Guard!'

Without warning he leaped upon Sagan, hurling him backwards with the force of the sudden impact, and buried his fingers in the grey bristling beard. He had but his bare hands with which to slay the enemy of the Duke, and used them with the strength of envenomed pride. Sagan, under the iron throttling fingers s.n.a.t.c.hed at his hunting-knife and stabbed fiercely upwards between the bent arms at the Guardsman's throat.

Inside the room the heavy breathing and struggling of the men on the floor seemed to Elmur loud enough to alarm the whole Castle, in spite of the furious screaming of the gale. He sprang to the writhing heap and tried to pinion Colendorp, but as he touched him the wounded man fell back. In a moment Sagan was on his feet calling on Elmur to bring the lamp. He seized Colendorp under the arm and shoved him roughly towards the wall, where throwing back a curtain he opened a door and thrust the tottering figure before him down a short flight of steps. Then another door was opened and the _tsa_ swept in with a wild yell, for a moment holding upright the failing man who staggered out on to the snowy terrace, making a tragic centre to the flickering path of light cast by the lamp in Elmur's hand.

For an instant Colendorp stood swaying on the yielding snow by the edge of the precipice, and as he swayed his voice climbed through his broken throat--

'Maasau the Free! Long live the Duke! The Duke's man ... I ... Colendorp of ...'

The wind had lulled for a second. Again the mad blast caught and wrenched Colendorp's figure, the snow gave between his feet, and he plunged forward heavily into the gorge of the Kofn river. The broken snow, whirled up in a great cloud by the eddying gusts, shone in the lamplight for a second like a wild toss of spray, then settled again upon the narrow terrace, obliterating all marks there. A window overhead was pushed open, but already the band of light upon the snow was gone, and nothing remained for Valerie's eyes but a chaos of gloom. Yet she had seen something. Dimly through the double gla.s.s she had discerned the green and gold of the Guard on the swaying figure before it dropped away for ever into the night.

CHAPTER XVI.

'WITH YOUR LIPS TO THE HURT.'

A few minutes later a knocking came to Madame de Sagan's door. It was low and urgent. She ran to open it, her heart in her throat. A hand pushed her aside with the rough careless force of full control. She recoiled with an exclamation, for a glance showed her that the Count was in one of his most deadly moods.

'What have you done--where is Selpdorf's daughter?' he snarled.

As Madame de Sagan shrank from the menacing hand the door opened a second time, and Valerie herself stumbled in with a bloodless face.

At the sight of the Count, she drew herself together like one who faces an unexpected peril.

'I apologise for coming, but I am frightened. The storm is dreadful. So I came to you, Isolde.'

Isolde put out her arms with a sobbing cry.

'I am frightened, too,' she said with a swift resentful glance at her husband; 'I was coming for you. Stay with me, Valerie; I will not be left alone!'

Sagan looked from one to the other of the two beautiful faces, and a sensation of surprised dismay, to which he was a stranger, arose in his mind. Hitherto women had been to him possessions, not problems. Now a very ancient truth burst in upon him with all the force of a revelation.

To own a woman is not always to understand her. The unexpected defiance on his wife's face confounded him.

'Isolde!' he began, stepping towards her.

But the young Countess clung to Valerie.

'Stay with me, Valerie!' she implored. 'I am far more frightened than you, for I know what there is to fear.'

With a loud curse of bewilderment he strode out, banging the door behind him. Isolde sprang to it, slipping the bolts with trembling fingers.

Then she threw herself upon a couch and broke into pitiful sobbing.

Valerie stood looking down at her in an agony of suspense, yet remembering that self-control is the chief rule of every game. Presently she put her hand on Isolde's shoulder. The young Countess started up with a suppressed scream. 'I had forgotten you were there. Valerie, he will murder me! He hates me! Oh, I have no one to save me!'

Valerie looked round. After the scene she had just witnessed, this suggestion did not sound so wild as it would have done at another time.

'You are nervous, Isolde; one could fancy anything on such a night,' she said soothingly.

'Have you lived so long in Maasau without knowing that here at Sagan everything is possible? He threatens me, and oh, my G.o.d, what shall I do?'

Valerie sat down beside her and put a steady hand upon her arm. She had her own object in this visit, but it must be approached with caution.

'I am here. I will help you!' she said rea.s.suringly.

Isolde sat up and put her arm round her companion's shoulders.

'I must trust you--though----Valerie, there is one person who might be able to help me to-night,' she whispered close to the girl's ear. 'He might save me. But he must come to me--here--now! I dare not leave this room. Simon----' she shivered.

'Who is it?' A new coldness crept into Valerie's voice as she listened.

'Can you not guess? It is Captain Rallywood.'

Valerie had braced herself to meet this, and it only added proof to her own fears for his safety. Come what might, she would undertake any message from Isolde to get the opportunity of warning the Duke's guard of the coming danger, and to tell the fate of that gallant figure tossing to and fro in the battering rush of the Kofn. She drew herself away from Isolde's embrace with a shudder.

'What is the matter with you?' Isolde peered up at her with a quick scrutiny. 'You are shaking all over. Valerie, is it because of him?'

'I am very cold,' returned the girl with a smile. 'I am quite willing to bring--Captain Rallywood. But where is he?'

'He is on guard in the Duke's ante-room.' She turned her head away.

'Then, Isolde, you know it is impossible! He cannot come!'

'Even if it costs my life?' said the Countess bitterly. 'Oh, how cheap you hold other people's lives, Valerie! You are a true Maasaun!'

Valerie thought a moment. The request of Madame de Sagan fell in with her own plan. It would enable her to solve the doubt that was agonising her; yet if she found him safe, how could she lend herself to tempt him to his own dishonour? A cruel question rose within her. Should she put him to the supreme test of life and love--would she not rather know him dead in the cold river, than living and false to her dim ideal of him?

'There is no time to spare.' Isolde's voice broke in upon her. 'If you could make him know the danger I stand in, he must come! Remind him of his promise to me.'

'But if he will not come?' Valerie forced the words.

'Then ask him to give you the cigarette case of Maasaun leather-work.

That will remind him of many things. But he will come,' she ended more confidently.

Valerie rose.

'I am ready. I know the pa.s.sages are watched. I saw no one, yet I felt the shadows were full of eyes. Lend me your sable cloak, Isolde; everyone will recognize that, and with this lace about my head, I shall be free to go where I please as the Countess Sagan.'

'Valerie'--Madame de Sagan held the girl back--'listen to me, you must make him come! I must tell you all. Rallywood is in danger, nothing can save him unless you separate him from the Duke----' she stopped, panting, then bared her arm. 'Remind him how he promised me--with his lips upon the hurt! Now go!'

The next second Valerie Selpdorf found herself alone in the dim corridor, in which the lights burned low. She stood quite still, the shock of the last sentence 'with his lips upon the hurt' still ringing in her ears. Rallywood! Rallywood with the clear grey eyes and that look in them which remained persistently in her memory. Her father had taught her to suspect the whole world. But she had chosen to think differently of this man, even when she told herself she hated him. Different from others--exempt from the universal stain of hypocrisy--one to be trusted, if it were possible to trust any. Then she turned upon herself. After all had he deceived her, had she not rather deceived herself? He had spoken openly to her of his despairing secret, of the woman he could never hope to win. And she had concluded what? Nothing definite, but there had been a dim thought. Oh, it was unbearable! But why did she linger to think of this, while Maasau itself was in danger?

She hurried along the pa.s.sages, moving with a soft swiftness of silken garments, and as she pa.s.sed the hidden eyes of the watchers looked out after the m.u.f.fled figure. Madame de Sagan was free to come and go.

From the head of the great staircase a narrow corridor branched away to the Duke's quarters. A very dim light shone from the embrasure at the end as she hurried along and, before she could stop herself, she ran right into the arms of a tall man who was coming out towards her.