nothing more happened for a day or two, except that von lindheim received a letter asking him to send word as soon as possible when he would be able to resume his duties, the hof-artzt having reported his opinion that the indisposition was only temporary. the letter concluded with a compliment to von lindheim’s ability, and an expression of regret that the bureau should be deprived of his valued services at a time when their loss was being particularly felt.
“they want to entice me back,” he said. “so much for their fair words. that is a stroke of the jaguar’s soft paw with the claws ready to spring out. i know him.”
his impression was, that he had puzzled, if not quite deceived, doctor beckmeister. he flattered himself that he had played his part well.
“if they think i am really off my head they may treat me as a neglectable factor, and so give me a chance of escape.”
then there was the question of szalay. we had no opportunity of learning how his disappearance had been taken. of course his presence at sch?nval was a distinct source of danger, inasmuch as it absolutely contradicted the part von lindheim was playing, if only it were known. this, however, we hoped was not the case. we had elaborated his disguise, and even the chancellor’s suspicious eye could hardly have recognized in the dark, sleek-looking attendant on the [pg 73]invalid the red-haired, bristling, lively szalay of our buyda days. our plan was to wait awhile, and then to take an opportunity of sending him out of the country to some friends who lived on the other side of the alps.
but as every day safely passed was making us more hopeful of ultimate escape from those vicious claws, our hopes were dashed by an extraordinary occurrence which revived our worst fears, and which i will relate in detail.
it will be understood that i ignored all necessity for keeping myself a prisoner, as the others had to do. personally, although at times i conceived it quite possible that rallenstein might not be sorry for a plausible opportunity of putting me out of the way, i felt no fear, and went about the place as i felt inclined, merely taking the precaution of carrying loaded in my pocket the small revolver with which i always travelled. i walked about the village, rode over the country round, but never saw anything suspicious, nothing in which could be discerned the jaguar’s watching eye, until the evening i am about to speak of.
i had strolled out after dinner, as was my wont, in company with a favourite dog of von lindheim’s, a fine wolf-hound, which i often took with me on my rides. my evening strolls were as much in the nature of a patrol as a constitutional, but, as i have said, i had never detected anything to warrant them. on this occasion i went across the garden, then through a belt of plantation, and so on to a long terraced walk, lined on either hand with conifers, and having on one side occasional gaps, giving on to an arable field sloping down to a road some quarter of a mile below. these openings had been made to afford passing glimpses of what was a charming view, with a small river winding its course on the other side of the road, [pg 74]and, beyond, the pine woods stretching away in broken masses as far as the eye could reach. the land between our terrace and the road was divided into small fields by hedges running longitudinally, useless divisions, except that they broke up the stretch of furrow, and so improved the landscape. the fields were now green with springing wheat, and dotted here and there over them were dummy scarecrows, a very necessary, if feeble defence, against the multitudes of birds that were harboured in the woods beyond. i mention all these details as being necessary to the comprehension of what follows.
i strolled along the walk thinking of the situation, the dog running now behind now in front of me. we had been getting more hopeful; our plan now being that we should wait a little longer, and then all three make our way out of the country. the two men would take up their abode in paris, or possibly go to england with me, not to return to their home until rallenstein’s power was at an end, or at least until the turn of political events gave them assurance that they could breathe their native air in safety.
i had taken a turn and a half along the terrace when a sharp, low bark of suspicion from the dog broke the silence round, and aroused my attention. “hey, fritz, old fellow! what’s the matter?” i cried.
the dog was running to and fro with his nose to earth, growling and whining excitedly. i went through the opening to the edge of the field and stood watching him. it was now dusk, and nothing could be clearly seen beyond a distance of, say, fifty yards. the dog was evidently on the scent of something; on a strange scent, i thought; one, to judge by his manner, that aroused his instinctive suspicion. he was evidently trying to find where the scent led away, but in this for a while he was in fault. suddenly, [pg 75]however, he gave louder tongue and darted off. i went through the opening, and ran along the crest of the hill in the direction fritz had taken. he had got some distance ahead, and i could see nothing of him in the gathering darkness. after going some way, i stopped and whistled. there was no response to that, but a few seconds after, as i was about to call again, there came a loud, angry bark, with a deep cry (i could not swear, but it seemed to me human), and the snarling growl of a dog in the act of seizure, abruptly stopping, then silence.
“by george, he has caught something!” i cried, and ran towards the point whence the noise had come. nothing unusual was to be seen.
“fritz!” i called, then whistled. no answer. dead silence. fairly puzzled now, i ran on. then thinking that i had gone too far, i wheeled round and went back towards the terrace, walking slowly, and looking well about me. suddenly in the semi-darkness i sprang forward with a cry of anger. the mystery of the silence at least was solved.
this is what i came upon.
an overthrown scarecrow, and fritz lying stretched on the ground beside it. i called him, although something told me it was useless, he would never move again. so it was. there was a great wound in his throat, and his head lay in a pool of blood.
what had happened? i jumped up and looked round, pulling out my revolver. i listened intently. not a sound. i ran down the field to the road, keeping as sharp a look-out as was possible. no one was to be seen. i broke through the hedge and searched the bank of the river, but with no greater result. then returning to the sloping field, i beat the hedges that crossed it, but came across neither man nor beast.
so at last there was nothing for it but to abandon [pg 76]the search, and take in the uncomfortable tidings to von lindheim, since there was no chance of hiding them from him, fritz being his favourite companion. both men were greatly perturbed.
“don’t let us alarm ourselves unnecessarily,” i said. “poor fritz may have fallen a victim to one of his natural enemies—a boar from the forest. at the same time it might be wise for us to accept it as a sign of danger.”
for i had little doubt in my own mind that the unfortunate dog’s death-wound had been given by no boar’s tusk, but by a human hand.
