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 [pg 161]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 fr?ulein 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.

so after a moment’s thought i resolved to accept furello’s invitation, a decision he received with a satisfaction which was assuredly the only genuine sentiment he had expressed during the interview. under pretence of making a change in my clothes, i ran up to my room and scribbled a note of excuse to strode, which the innkeeper undertook to have conveyed to him forthwith. i had my reasons for keeping strode and furello apart, at any rate for that day, and had i mentioned my engagement i thought the count would have insisted on his joining us. also it will be obvious that there was von lindheim’s absence to be accounted for.

i changed my coat, rejoined furello, and we set out. as i anticipated, he presently remarked, “you have a companion staying with you. would he not care [pg 162]to join us?” he stopped as though to turn back.

“he is away,” i answered; “staying with a friend some distance from here.”

“ah!” we walked on. “your friend is not a countryman of your own?”

“oh, no,” i returned in a tone of frank confidence; “it is our friend von lindheim, of buyda. he has been dangerously ill, and we thought a change of air and scene would set him up again.”

“no doubt.”

i could not help thinking that my companion was turning over in his mind certain plans for neutralizing the vivifying effect of the geierthal’s air.

“your friend returns soon? yes?”

“i expect him to be with me in a day or two,” was my disingenuous answer; pardonable, i hope, under the circumstances.

“in the meantime i shall hope to supply, however unworthily, his place of companion to you.”

i seemed to catch a feline look in the face beside me, and thought that the unworthiness on which he had insisted so prettily might not be wide of the mark. we soon reached the private woods of the estate, and as the count showed me the way and pointed out the view of the monastery i wondered whether he knew how familiar i already was with it all. for i had come to be surprised at nothing in that network of spies and assassins.

sport was plentiful; black game, ptarmigan, pheasants and hares fell in dozens before our guns. a pic-nic luncheon was brought out to us on the hills, and afterwards, when we had lighted our cigars, the count chatted away gaily as though he had nothing more heinous than the death of a pheasant on his conscience. he explained how it was that his intended stay of but one day in the geierthal had been prolonged. his sister, who lived at the monastery [pg 163]with him, had been ill, and did not like being left alone in that out-of-the-way spot.

“you as a bachelor, my dear herr tyrrell,” he said, “are perhaps scarcely in a position to realize the subtle influence which womenkind exercise on our movements. had i to choose men for a dangerous, a critical enterprise, i would take care to reject all those about whom i might suspect any feminine tie or entanglement. most of the successful men who have made history have been those who either by nature or experience were able to take love as a mere episode, an interlude, to be swept off the stage when the scene was set for the next act of the real drama of their lives. pardon me if i speak too strongly. you english are noted for a nice cultivation of the domestic virtues.”

“and yet we have made history.”

“true. but your greatest men would come under my category. and the very fact that englishwomen are so domesticated shows that they have been kept in their proper place and not allowed to interfere in their husbands’ or lovers’ careers. you are men of action, and i fancy are often roused to it from a longing for change from the monotony of the very virtues on which you pride yourselves.”

i laughed and did not contradict him.

“now you, my dear friend,” he went on, “your love of movement and adventure is, i venture to say, untinged by the thought of any woman.”

the green eyes were on me. he was watching me narrowly.

“naturally,” i replied carelessly. “the age of knight-errantry is long past.”

“is it?” the mouth was drawn back and the eyes glittered with a vicious sneer, at least so it seemed to me.

“is it not?” i rejoined with a laugh. “are we [pg 164]not all too full of commercial common sense now-a-days?”

“even for an isolated case here and there, you think?”

“i have not heard of one. perhaps your experience, count, is more interesting than mine.”

he gave a shrug. “i have seen curious things in my time.”

“i can well believe you,” was my mental comment.

“and,” he continued in a tone of polite, but, to me, somewhat repulsive banter, “my imagination could easily construct of you, my young friend, a wandering knight seeking adventures.”

“at least, it is on my own account,” i laughed.

“ah, yes. the motive now-a-days is less illogical than formerly, if quite as unprofitable. you, now, might be earning a name for yourself at home in one of the professions, but you prefer to wander about in out-of-the-way corners of europe for what? for the pleasures of a roving life and the excitement of not knowing when you wake what the day may bring forth.”

“it is preferable, at least, to the humdrum holiday of the ordinary tourist.”

“holiday!” he looked incredulous. “scarcely a holiday in the sense in which most men understand the term. you are tied, i presume, by no limit of time or means; is it not rather the business of your life now to rove where you will, answerable to no one, cut off from all ties, your very family in total ignorance of your whereabouts?”

“perhaps so,” i answered unthinkingly, for the man’s manner rather irritated me. “we english hate the idea of dependence and supervision; our freedom is absolute, in effect as well as in name.”

i had reason before many hours were over to realize the rashness of that speech. but at the moment [pg 165]disgust for the hideous methods of a despotic government were so strong within me that i did not weigh the possible effect of my words, or see the trick which had led me to make the admission.

the count rose. “i think, if you are rested, we may turn our faces homewards now. we have an hour’s walk, and i wager shall flush some game on our way. i hope, herr tyrrell, that you will do me the honour of joining us at dinner. we dine sans cérémonie to-night, and in her state of health my sister will be glad if we all renounce full dress.”

the invitation was, i felt, one which on the score of my personal safety it was madness to accept. but my great desire was to get inside the monastery, since from without i could do nothing. it was for that i had spent the day with a man i loathed; to accept his hospitality was entirely repugnant to me; but i was fighting against odds to save a human life: i had to avail myself of every advantage i might get, and could not be squeamish. the risk, i knew, was fearful; no greater, though, to me a strong man than her danger to the imprisoned girl. i had my wits about me, my revolver in my pocket; i felt that the path here divided, and i had to choose between that of duty and that of cowardice. the chance i had prayed for had come. at the worst it was but another grave in the wood for a man who had done his duty.

i accepted.