THE RED CHANCELLOR.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 11771, 28 September 1901, Page 3 (Supplement)

THE RED CHANCELLOR.

BY SIR WILLIAM MAGNAY, BART., Author of " The Heiress of the Season," " The Man-trap," " The Pride of Life," etc.

• ■» A ROMANCE,

CHAPTER VI. THE CAPSIZED BOAT.

Next morning I could hardly persuade myself that what I had seen the night before had not been all a dream. In the bright sunshine and in the active workaday life of the city the ghastly business seemed impossible. But the effect of my experience lay heavy upon my mind. I felt I could do nothing. As a/State affair it was no business of mine to interfere; I could not decide even whether I should tell Von Lindheim what I knew. I was to see him that afternoon, and had the greater part of the day at my disposal. Thinking that exercise would be the best means of shaking off my depression I determined to revert to an old sport of mine, rowing. Accordingly, after a late breakfast, I hired the lightest sculling boat I could find, and went for a pull up the river. A picturesque stream, the Narvo, when once you get clear of the wharves, mills, warehouses, and like unromantic accessories; but the worst piece of water for a steady pull that I had ever dipped oar into, and I had tried a good many, from the Wensum to the Danube. No sooner did I get into my swing and the craft began to slip along than I had to hold her up for an eyot, or a patch of aggressive water-lilies, varied by what answered in those parts for a weir, or a superfluous, if picturesque, waterfall.

But the clearing of the obstacles was all in the clay's work. I was not bound against time for the source of the river, so pushed, hauled, and punted energetically, thinking the change of working muscles no bad thing. As a reward for my perseverance I presently got away from all signs of the town ; the banks grew higher and, with their overhanging bushes, something like our Wye, shut out the hideous chimneys and other unromantic evidences of Buyda's commercial prosperity. There are men in the world who are never so happy as when surrounded by the evidences of successful commercial enterprise, tramways, factories, advertisement boardings, shops up-to-date and doing a roaring trade. This sort of thing gives them as much pleasure as Tinlern or Chillon gives the artist; they prefer in their hearts, only it does not do to confess it, they prefer Manchester to Rome, consider the Rhine improved by its fringes of railways, and would rather see a rubbishy piece in a full theatre than Hamlet in a halfempty one. Perhaps it is as well that our pleasures do not all lie on the same lines; we ate crowded enough as it is. Something of this sort was passing through my mind as I pulled leisurely up a comparatively clear reach, when my train of thought was snapped by the bow of my boat striking against some light object. I looked round, and saw I had run against a floating scull. I took it into the boat, thinking someone might have let it slip and been unable to recover it, an awkward mishap not uncommon with duffers; then 1 rowed on, thinking to come across the owner before long. The sound of rushing water warned me that I was approaching another of the weirs, of which just then i was getting rather tired, since they meant haulage. Beyond a sharpish bend the rivetwidened considerably, the current became stronger, and, looking ahead, I could see an obstacle, half weir, half natural waterfull, with the usual rotten posts and dilapito take the trouble of carrying my craft dated rails. I pulled on, undecided whether round or to return, when a stroke took me beyond and so in sight of an object lying caught in the sedge outside the current.' A capsized boat. I did not like the look of it. "That accounts for the. scull," I said, and pulled round to examine her. No one was to be seen on the banks, which were flat and open here. I ran my boat alongside the overturned craft. With some difficulty I righted her. A rowboat, similar to mine, site was of course empty, except that jammed under the thwarts wis a walking-stick, un ordinary bamboo with a hook handle, find the usual silver band. This I threw into my boat, and then got ashore. Not a soul was in sight. I walked up a good way past the fall, giving an occasional shout, but there was no sign of any human being, desd or alive, and the one seemed now as much to be looked for as the other. The district, although so near the city, was deserted, probably it was an outlying part of a large private estate.

So I returned to my boat without having got nearer to the mystery, and now determined to pull homewards, for the river up higher did not promise much reward for my exertions. As I went back, however, I looked sharply about for any .further evidences of a boating accident, but found none. It looked to me very much as though the boat had gone over the fall, and the walk-ing-stick decidedly pointed to someone having been in her. But I came to the conclu-

sion that even then if the fellow could swim and had kept his head he would probably have got off with an extremely unpleasant ducking, as the fall was not great and the water below clear of obstacles and fairly deep. Half a mile down stream I came to a cottage on the bank, went ashore, and told of the boat I had come across. The man, who had just come in from his morning's work, told me, so far as I could understand his patois, that he had heard of no accident. His wife said she had seen no boat passing, nor could they give any explanation, and, to tell the truth, seemed too stolid and indifferent to care to trouble about one. So I left them, having done what was possible, and rowed back to the city, reflecting in some disgust on the narrow space which seemed to divide these boors from the lower animals. I had, however, gleaned one piece of information from them, and it was that the land through which that part of the river ran belonged to Rallenstein, the Chancellor, on whose estate they worked. "He is a great man here," I said afterwards, " and can look to the matter himself if anything is wrong." I little knew the full meaning of my words.

At the landing-stage I pealed my story, but the capsized boat did not belong to the owner of mine and the subject consequently lacked interest for him. There had been accidents over the falls, he told me; but it was people's own fault and stupidity. One of his men, however, thought he had seen a gentleman rowing up earlier in the day, but did not recognise him, or know where the boat had been hired. That was all; so not seeing what more I could be expected to do I went back to the hotel, calling, however, at the police office on my way to give information of what I had found. The officer in charge phlegmatically assured me that the matter should be looked into, and bowed me out.

Having changed my clothes I went on to You Lindheiin's. He had not returned home, although it was past his usual hour, but shortly after my arrival he made his appearance. He seemed in better spirits, and I was glad to notice that the cloud of the previous evening had passed away. He had been detained at the Chancellerie, he said, by extra work; D'Urban was away, whether on leave or through illness he had not been able to find out. " It was rather hard on me," Yon Lindheim said, "but I had to stay over a stupid protocol, although I told Krause, our chief, that I was taking an English friend to the theatre. However, we have just time for a short dinner, and the coffee we can get between the acts."

We were going together en garcon to see Harlff in Shylock, and accordingly sat down to a hurried* meal.

It had been in progress) scarcely ten minutes when word came in. that Von Lindheim's friend and colleague, Szalay, was waiting to see him on most, urgent business. "I told the herr you were engaged, sir," said the servant, "but he said he must see you without delay." My friend looked grave, and jumping up with a word of apology to me hurried from the room. I concluded that the visit had to do with the discovery of Von Orsova's death, and began to turn over in my mind whether I ought to say what I knew. So after all, I argued, it has nothing to do with these men; I had perhaps better ignore a matter of which' I have no right to be cognisant. In a, few minutes Von Lindheim returned, followed by his visitor.

"You are a man of the world, my dear Tyrrell, and we have come to put a case before you." I nodded assent.

" Szalay here has called to see me on a very serious matter indeed. He has been challenged to fight a duel." I whistled. " Who's your man?" " A ridiculous little ass in the Royal Guard here; a fellow who is always swaggering about full of his own importance, a certain Captain Rassler de Hayn, or Halm, as he is nicknamed."

" And the cause of the quarrel?" Szalay broke in eagerly, "None, that I can tell of. He sends a friend to me to say that I have spoken disrespectfully of him and so insulted his uniform, his corps, the 'army, and the King. He will hear of no apology." "Fire-eating little fool!" Von Lindneim ejaculated. " But perhaps you have insulted him, and all the rest of it?" " Not particularly. Everybody laughs at the little spitfire, you understand ; I have laughed with the rest. But not to his face ; I have manners." "De Hayn is a dead shot and a clever swordsman," Von Lindheim observed grimly. ' These fools are not wanting in pluck." " "But why has he challenged me of all men?" Szalay cried, with a gesture of bewilderment. Lindheim gave a shrug. "Who can account foi the action of a conceited fathead? Szalay has come to a,-:k me to act for him. Of course the whole affair is ridiculous, still it may end seriously if we treat it as lightly as* it deserves. I must go and see this Lieutenant Paulssen without delay. What line would you take?" " You come to the worst man in the world when you put such a case to an Englishman." I answered. " for — " I know. You have no duels, and hold them supremely absurd. But as a man of the world—"

" Don't call me that, even in complimentary sense," I returned. " But so far as my advice goes it .would be to see this Lieutenant. Paulsseu. assure him that your principal has no recollection of having spoken disrespectfully of him, far leas of any intention to do so; 'that his man has been misinformed, and generally to apologise for any careless) word by which he may have unwittingly reflected upon that constructive list of institutions he is so jealous of. That';; one way." " And the other';"

" Well, are you good with the sword or pistol? I presume you, as the challenged, will have a choice of weapons.'" " My dear Tyrrell, righting is out of the question. Our man is a professional cutthroat ; Szalay is a diplomat." " I have not handled a sword since I left the university," his friend added.

" Naturally you don't want to fight ; no sane man does, especially over such imbecility. Though, of course, if you could hit this little bouncer it would be doing society a good service." "Well, I'll go and see Paulssen at his quarters within the next hour," Von Lindheiro. said, " and you shall know the result."' So Szalay went off, in no very easy frame of mind.

" The worse of this business is," my host remarked when we were alone, " that this Paulssen is himself a hot-headed young fool. He probably will not want this affair stopped, if he calculates on an opportunity for showing off. ] must tell him he is only likely to make an exhibition of himself. Now, I'm sorry to hurry yen. We may as well start together, and I will join you after the first act."

On our way I found Mint the news I had been all day expecting had burst upon the city. Newsvendors Mere crying the " terrible suicide of Herr Rittmeister von Orsova." The sudden announcement came as a. shock to Von Lindheim, yet it did not seem to strike him as in any way unaccountable. I could see that he, like myself, knew more of the affair than he cared to tell. We bought a paper, and read it eagerly in the Street. Von Orsova had been found by a servant early that morning lying dead in a corner of the great ballroom of the palace. By his side was an empty phial containing hydrocyanic acid : the unfortunate Rittmeister had evidently taken his own life, bub the reason for the act was, up to that time, enveloped in mystery. My companion looked very grave as he folded up the paper. "1 am not surprised," he remarked simply, adding in a lower tone, the game he was playing could scarcely end otherwise. Well, I 'must leave you here and see this fellow. I will be at the theatre as soon f.s possible." About the middle of the second act he dropped quietly into the seat beside me. • " What success?" I whispered. He shook his head. " None. I fear Szalay must fight, and if he does" He gave an expressive shrug. When the act was over he strolled out for coffee and a cigarette. "De Hayn means to fight," Von Lindheira said in answer to my inquiry. " Paulssen was instructed not to entertain any suggestion of an apology or explanation. Sza-, lay is a dead man." " Can't we have the affair stopped.'" I suggested. " Surely it is not countenanced by the law." " No; but winked at, and, in the army, permitted under certain circumstances.

There is only one chance that I see. The Chancellor is against duelling ; he thinks it retrograde, and he is all for progress. If I could contrive that he had wind of —"

A smart young fellow had come up to us and clapped him on the shoulder. "My dear Von Lindheim, the Baroness Fornbach has seat me to tell you that she has been trying for the last half-hour to catch your eye. But you are full of secrets this evening. You are to come to her box without fail and disclose them to her. No ; seriously, she wants to see you. Of course bring your friend." Von Lindheim introduced us, and we three went off to the baroness' box.

'" I hope you don't mind, old fellow: but I can't throw a chance away to-night. The baroness is good style and great fun." When we entered the box we found it occupied By two people. A man was in animated conversation with the baroness. He had his back turned to me, and seemed to lie finishing a good story, for they were both laughing as the man rose and made way for us. Von Lindheim presented me to the baroness, a good-looking widow, still young, and evidently a woman of fashion. We shook hands, and she said a few graceful words to me, then, with a slight gesture, introduced me casually to her companion. " Count, you know Herr Von Lindheim? Mr. Tyrrell, Count Furello." Turning to bow, I found myself face to face with the man who had accosted me by Duke Johann's chapel the night before, the man who had forced Von Orsova to his death. I knew him at once, despite the fact that both my former views had been imperfect; the feline eyes that glittered from the dark recess of the box were unmistakable. And a curious-looking man he was ; a man whom at first sight and without my previous knowledge of him one would, have hardly known whether to set down as attractive or detestable, but certainly interesting. He had a mass of straight chestnut hair brushed back from a high narrow forehead and falling in a thick even wall over the back of his head. His eyes were dark and alert, set a trifle too close together, his nose was long and thin, and his mouth drawn back by what seemed an habitual muscular contraction into a set grin, making a straight slit across his face in no way hidden by the small reddish moustache which was turned upwards well away from it. No doubt he, too, recognised me; however, he gave no sign of it, only made me a courtly bow with a few murmured words of compliment. I turned again as the baroness spoke. " Is it out of compliment to Mr. Tyrrell's nationality that you have been too much absorbed in Shakespere to notice your friends in the house, Herr von Lindheim?"

He made a, to me, obvious effort to throw off his worry, as he replied: " No, indeed; I cannot claim such ultrapoliteness. Harlff is at his very best tonight." " Yon are giving yourself a poor character as a diplomatist, Herr von Lindheim," said Count Furello, " in confessing that even the excitement of superb acting can blind you to the realities of life around you." He said this very genially, almost banteringly, but the man good-homoured tone and laugh were obviously a mask; behind his easy manner and glib talk there was the suggestion of a sinister purpose. It was a personality which in any case would have kept me on my guard. CHAPTER VII. SUPPER AT THE BARONESS*. The baroness asked us to supper at her house after the play, and would take no refusal. " I did not stand out," Von Lindheim said afterwards, " as it will be a good opportunity of giving the count a hint about- this wretched duel. He is a sort of confidential aide of the Chancellor's."

" Not quite as easy-going as he looks," I suggested. "No; Furello is not exactly a man to trifle with. He would be the last man for Rallenstein's purpose if he were. But I have always got on very well with him." Some other men came into the box and ire, left, the baroness making us renew our promise to sup with her. " I shall slip out after the Trial Scene," Von »Lindheim said, as we returned to our stalls, " and report progress to Szalay. Poor fellow! I expect he is having an uncomfortable time. But I have hopes yet of stopping this absurd affair. If I cannot get back here by the end of the play we will meet at the baroness' Weiner Platz, No. 1, the large house at the corner."

We met there later on, for he did not return to the theatre.

" Poor Szalay is in an awful state," he whispered. " I am quite sorry for him ; it is a shame to fasten a quarrel on such an easy victim. I have promised to do all I can." There were about a dozen of us at supper, a merry party enough when the champagne had gone round once or twice. Count Furello talked a great deal; his conversation had a constant flow of smart paradoxical argument, very often quite shallow, but always entertaining. His was to me certainly the most interesting individuality at the table ; knowing what I did of him it is no small wonder that his personality had a rather grim fascination for me. It was the first time I had, to my knowledge, sat down to table with a slayer of men in cold blood, even a political assassin; but perhaps the situation was not so distasteful to me then as it should have been.

" What an awful thing this is about poor Von Orsova," r someone remarked.

"Ah, poor man!" the hostess said, "I dare not think of it. It is too horrible: to think that I was waltzing with him an hour before. To be dancing with an already half dead man," she gave a little affected shudder.

" He was to have been one. of your guests to-night, was he not'/" Furello asked. " Oh, yes, indeed. Who could have suspected when he accepted my invitation that he knew he would be dead long before." " Does anyone know the reason he had for suicide?" a lady next him asked Furello.

The count gave a shrug. "Nothing has yet transpired. But the motives for such an act are often impossible to ascertain. There is nothing so irresponsible and eccentric as the mind of a man who has a tendency to self murder. A sudden impulse is enough to bring about the catastrophe. Who knows? I for one should be very sorry to insist on an adequate motive." I looked at the man and wondered at his coolness. He spoke easily, without a trace of effort to suppress the truth. It was hard to recognise the grim executioner in the glib, urbane society man. " Oh, for heaven's sake let us change the subject!" the baroness cried. " Life is quite miserable enough without dwelling on these horrors. The poor man is dead ; what does it matter how? It is all shockingly sad; but what can we do? After all, life is for the living. Do all of you fill your glasses, and banish melancholy for an hour at least." "I hope, baroness," I said, for, as a foreigner, I occupied the place of honout, " you do not expect so soon a return?" •' Of wretchedness? My dear Mr. Tyrrell, it is a trite saying, but if we could only see inside each other's hearts what a revelation some of them would be." She was laughing, but I could see- it was not quite genuine." "Surely you, baroness, are the last person in the world to have cause for depression," I returned, with more gallantry than conviction ; for, after all, to pretend to dogmatise about our dearest friend is doubtful, and about a stranger whom one has not known two hours, absurd, however happy her surroundings may be. She made "a little deprecating gesture. "You are an Englishman, Mr. Tyrrell, you live for sport, for healthy enjoyment. What can you know of the worries, the intrigues of* life here, where our freedom is little more than a name? So you must not judge us by appearances. You only see the surface "of our life: be thankful you have no cause to peep below." She spoke rapidly, glancing restlessly at the count. But I was sure he did not heather, if that was what she feared. She seemed to speak to me, an outsider, as probably the only person in the room whom she could trust. ' The more I saw of the life at Buyda the, gladder I was that my lot was not ' exactly cast there. Here was" a woman, high-born, her own mistress (so far as that went in Buyda), with, according to Von Lindbeim, large wealth, an enviable position and troops of friends, yet living, as it seemed, always in a certain dread, ever under the hanging sword. So much, I thought, for your autocratic Chancellors, familiar names in our mouths as history-makers. Over our breakfasttables in England we little guess the means they use to make it: it so happens, my dear baroness, that I have by chance taken a peep beneath the surface. When supper was over, the ladies rose, and we were invited to smoke in an ad- j

jofining room. Now an infamous thing happened, which, by the greatest good luck, I chanced to see. When the ladies were gone, Von Lindheim went over and began to talk to Count Furello, with the object, as I was sure, of giving, him a hint about poor Szalay's duel. I, of course, kept aloof, and was happy in finding myself next to a talkative young fellow, who had seen something of * English life, and was very in- i terested in our ideas of sport. We chatted away on this congenial topic, and I took no further notice of my friend. My young neighbour aud I got on so well, that presently he insisted that we should drink a bumper of champagne together to our better acquaintance. Accordingly we rose and went towards a sideboard at one of the smoking-rooms, where the wine and glasses stood in array. Von Lindheim and Count Furello were standing bytalking quietly. In order not to interrupt them, we kept a certain distance away as we poured out our wine. We clinked glasses with true German fervour, drank no less, and filled again. A morsel of foil from the neck of the bottle was floating in my wine. I turned to the light and fished it out with a. spoon. In doing so, I faced a mirror, which, set an angle, and combined with another at my back, enabled me not only to see over my shoulder, but showed me what was going on in front of the man whose back was turned to me. And this is what I saw. A peculiar, furtive action on the part of the count caught my eye. He was leaning his left arm on the sideboard, presumably to screen from Von Lindheim what be did with his right. This hand moved quickly 50 an empty glass close by, and resting ever it, tilted, as though pouring something into it. What the hand held I could not see. Had not my mind been full of murder and sudden death, or had the act been done less stealthily, I should, perhaps, have thought little of it; many a man doctors bis drink against gout or some other chronic ailment. Even here a. doubt was in my mind; although I could not help an almost sickening feeling of something very like horror, I determined to keep) a very strict watch. Taking a sip of my wine. I turned again to the sideboard, still talking dna laughing with my new acquaintance, but keeping rny eye carelessly on the count. He took up a bottle, the cork was: not drawn, and with a show of polite alacrity I banded him ours, which was but half empty. He placed another glass in a line with the first, and filled them. As I expected and feared, he then pushed them forward in such a manner that the doctored glass came naturally nearest to Von Lindheim. My previous night's experience was enough to tell me of the fearful danger in which my friend stood. I was determined that he should not touch that glass, yet what was I to do on the spur of the moment? A happy thought struck me. "Let us all drink together,' I cried, feigning a slightly elevated manner, at the same time slapping my young friend on the shoulder, then going quickly round to the other side of Von Lindheim. "We will drink together, all four," I laughed. Von Lindheim's glance indicated his opinion that I had taken as much champagne as was good for me: the count showed his teeth in a tolerant smile. I leaned forward to the young fellow who was now separated from me by the two other men. " Prosit!" 1 cried.

Exactly what I had calculated upon happened. " The count was obliged to turn slightly in order to touch the others glass with his own. At that instant I struck Von Lindheim a sharp blow. He turned to me half startled. " Poison!" I dared only form the word with my lips, throwing all the horror I could into my expression as I nodded towards his glass. " Don't drink for your life!" The words were not even whispered; happily Von Lindheim was sharp enough to comprehend the situation. He faced jound to mo, so that his back was turned up an the ccunt, and next moment our glasses had been changed. I leaned forward and touched with the other two men ; Von Lindheim did the same, and at a nod from me he drank some of his wine at which he at first hesitated. I raised the glass to my lips and pretended to drink, then I contrived unseen to spill a portion of its contents over my pocket-handkerchief, so that I could return to my former place, a little unsteadily, with my glass half empty. All the time my brain was raging as I realised the hideousness of the business. The intense pity I felt for my friend comes back to me as the sensation uppermost in my mind then. But in that desperate situation action was imperative, sentiment useless. I kept up my talk with the young sportsman, watching all the while for" an opportunity of saying a word to Von Lindheim. Presently he left the count and came to me. My companion turned at the moment to relight his cigar, which in his chattering he had allowed to go out. "You had better smoke a cigarette," I said to Von Lindheim under my voice, " and then make an excuse to go. Say you feel unwell."

Then I laughed and brought the other man into the conversation. He and Von Lindheim began to chat, as the count, throwing himself into a chair near us, opened a conversation with me. We exchanged some commonplaces, the usual small talk between a visitor and a native. I could tell he was a. man of great tact, natural and acquired. He invariably said the right thing, passing from topic to topic with a pleasant, well-rounded comment upon each, such cut and dried talk as avoids all pitfalls of argument or contradiction.

He gave an occasional glance at Von Lindheim, but quite naturally, his manner never showing the least preoccupation. To all appearances he was a geniah sociable man of the world, a State official merely by accident. In his careless way, however, he put a good many leading questions to me, principally as to my friendship with Von Lindheim, which I, affecting the part of a simple-minded sportsman, answered with a great show of frankness. Presently my friend laid his hand on my shoulder. "Don't let me hurry you," he said, "but I think of going homewards." " Already? It is not so late for you, Herr Von Lindheim," Furello remonstrated almost chaflingly. " I'm tired and feel out of sort?," he replied as naturally as one could wish. " Good-night, Heir Count. Many thanks for the good offices you have promised me." "I'm a bird that goes to perch early. I'll come too," I said, bowing to the count, who, to my disgust, held out his hand— hand which I wis fain to take. So we made our adieux and next minute were in the street. (To be continued).

At Sotheby's famous auction rooms there was offered for sale the other day a copy of a book known as " The Ryall Book: Or a Book for a King," printed by the father of English typography, William Caxton, in 1847. The interest displayed in this work, of which only four other copies are extant, was great. The bidding began at 100 guineas, leapt at once to 200 guineas, and thence to £500. The eagerness of Mr. Denham, an American, quickly raised the price to £900. After this matters went very slowly until £1050 was reached; then rang out the voice of Mr. Quaritch, of book-buying fame. With determination he bid against the only remaining competitor, a representative of Mr. Pickering, another well-known buyer. The price went up and up till the great dealer said fifteen hundred and fifty," with a smile that showed he was by no means at the end of his tether. There was no answering bid, and Mr. Quaritch's smile broadened. " I'll take it," said he, and through a lane of envious admirers he marched to the dooi* with the precious Caxton under his arm.

Life and Vigour for the Hair.—The only article which really possesses nutritious virtues for stimulating and restoring the hair is Rowland's Macassar Oil. It removes scurf, harshness, dryness, prevents the hair being injured by illness, and should always be used for children's hair; no other article imparts such a beautiful and dressy appearance to the hair as Rowland's Maoassae Oil, and if you have never used it, you are strongly advised to procure a bottle without delay, end continue using it; also in a golden oolour for fair hair. Sold by stores and chemists.

A QUESTION FOR THE DOCTOR. "Would it not be desirable to consult.the doctor as to which soap commends itself to our uses, as so many skins are ruined past redemption by inferior soaps ? PBAR3 Soap is recommended by the highest skin authorities in the world. Dr. Redwood,; Ph.*)., F.C.S., F.1.C., wuose opinion is unimpeachable, nays, "I have never come across another toilet soap which so closely comes up to my ideal of perfection."