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 spine = 1.07”

2
Updated for ASP.NET MVC 3 Updated for ASP.NET MVC 3

Programming Microsoft ®

Programming
About the Author
ASP.NET MVC Dino Esposito is a well-known expert, trainer,
and consultant on ASP.NET and mobile Microsoft ®

SECOND EDITION technologies. He has written several popular

ASP.NET MVC
Programming
books, including Programming Microsoft

Microsoft
ASP.NET 4, and is coauthor of Microsoft .NET:
Your expert reference to the principles, internal
Architecting Applications for the Enterprise.
mechanics, and techniques for ASP.NET MVC 3 He’s also a regular contributor to MSDN® ® SECOND
Magazine and speaks at industry events such EDITION
Delve into the features, principles, and pillars of the ASP.NET MVC
framework—and begin building your own MVC-based apps as DevConnections and Microsoft TechEd.

ASP.NET MVC
quickly. ASP.NET MVC forces developers to think in terms of distinct
components—Model, View, Controller—that make it easier to
manage application complexity, while enabling strict control over the
markup. Web development expert Dino Esposito deftly illuminates
the framework’s mechanics—and shares best ways to use this D EV ELOP ER ROAD M AP
programming model versus Web Forms.
Start Here
• Beginner-level instruction
Discover how to: • Easy to follow explanations and examples
• Exercises to build your first projects
• Exploit the separation of UI from code for more accurate design
• Process and develop views using HTML helper components
• Keep applications lean with good controller design Step by Step
• For experienced developers learning a
• Combine view model objects, template editors, and validators new topic
to build effective data entry pages • Focus on fundamental techniques and tools
• Design views and controllers to be SEO-friendly and • Hands-on tutorial with practice files plus
eBook
localization-aware
• Use AJAX to take full control over HTML Developer Reference
• Design for testability, extensibility, and security • Professional developers; intermediate to
advanced
• See when and how to customize ASP.NET MVC • Expertly covers essential topics and
techniques
• Features extensive, adaptable code examples

Focused Topics
Get code samples on the Web

2
• For programmers who develop

EDITION
SECOND
Ready to download at complex or advanced solutions
http://go.microsoft.com/FWLink/?Linkid=230567 • Specialized topics; narrow focus; deep
coverage
For system requirements, see the Introduction.
• Features extensive, adaptable code examples

Esposito
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PUBLISHED BY
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To Silvia and my back for sustaining me.
Contents at a Glance

Introduction xiii

PART I ASP.NET MVC FUNDAMENTALS

CHAPTER 1 ASP.NET MVC Controllers 3

CHAPTER 2 ASP.NET MVC Views 41
CHAPTER 3 The Model-Binding Architecture 103
CHAPTER 4 Input Forms 131

PART II ASP.NET MVC SOFTWARE DESIGN

CHAPTER 5 Aspects of ASP.NET MVC Applications 189

CHAPTER 6 Securing Your Application 227
CHAPTER 7 Design Considerations for ASP.NET MVC Controllers 253
CHAPTER 8 Customizing ASP.NET MVC Controllers 281
CHAPTER 9 Testing and Testability in ASP.NET MVC 327

PART III CLIENT-SIDE

CHAPTER 10 More Effective JavaScript 373

Index 415
Table of Contents

Introduction. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . xiii

PART I ASP.NET MVC FUNDAMENTALS

Chapter 1 ASP.NET MVC Controllers 3

Routing Incoming Requests . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
Simulating the ASP.NET MVC Runtime . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4
The URL Routing HTTP Module. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
Application Routes . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9
The Controller Class. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Aspects of a Controller. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
Writing Controller Classes. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17
Processing Input Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 21
Producing Action Results . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
Special Capabilities of Controllers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
Grouping Controllers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
Asynchronous Controllers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33

Chapter 2 ASP.NET MVC Views 41

Structure and Behavior of a View Engine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Mechanics of a View Engine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 42
Definition of the View Template . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47

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vii

 HTML Helpers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50
Basic Helpers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 51
Templated Helpers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 56
Custom Helpers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 59
The Web Forms View Engine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
Inside the View Engine . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 62
Designing a Sample View. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65
The Razor View Engine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
Inside the View Engine. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72
Designing a Sample View. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 78
Templated Delegates. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 86
Coding the View. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Modeling the View. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 90
Advanced Features. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 96
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .101

Chapter 3 The Model-Binding Architecture 103

The Input Model. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
Evolving from the Web Forms Input Processing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 104
Input Processing in ASP.NET MVC . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 105

Model Binding . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107

Model-Binding Infrastructure. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 107
The Default Model Binder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 108
Customizable Aspects of the Default Binder. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 119
Advanced Model Binding. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 120
Custom Type Binders. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 121
A Sample DateTime Model Binder . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 124
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .129

viii Contents
Chapter 4 Input Forms 131
General Patterns of Data Entry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
A Classic Select-Edit-Post Scenario. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 132
Applying the Post-Redirect-Get Pattern. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 139
Ajax-Based Forms. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 143
Automating the Writing of Input Forms. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Predefined Display and Editor Templates. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153
Custom Templates for Model Data Types. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163
Input Validation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 167
Using Data Annotations. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
Advanced Data Annotations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 173
Self-Validation. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 180
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .185

PART II ASP.NET MVC SOFTWARE DESIGN

Chapter 5 Aspects of ASP.NET MVC Applications 189

ASP.NET Intrinsic Objects. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189
SEO and HTTP Response. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 190
Managing the Session State. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 193
Caching Data. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 194
Error Handling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 200
Handling Program Exceptions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201
Global Error Handling. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 206
Dealing with Missing Content. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 209
Localization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Using Localizable Resources . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 212
Dealing with Localizable Applications. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .226

Contents ix
 Chapter 6 Securing Your Application 227
Security in ASP.NET MVC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227
Authentication and Authorization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 228
Extending the Authorize Attribute . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 229
Implementing a Membership System . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
Defining a Membership Controller. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 232
The Remember-Me Feature and Ajax . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 237
External Authentication Services. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
The OpenID Protocol. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 240
Authenticating via Twitter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 246
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .251

Chapter 7 Design Considerations for ASP.NET MVC

Controllers 253
Shaping Up Your Controller . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254
Choosing the Right Stereotype. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 254
Fat-Free Controllers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 257
Connecting the Presentation and Back End. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 264
The iPODD Pattern. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .264
Injecting Data and Services in Layers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 271
Gaining Control of the Controller Factory. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 277
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .280

Chapter 8 Customizing ASP.NET MVC Controllers 281

The Extensibility Model of ASP.NET MVC. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 281
The Provider-Based Model. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 282
The Service Locator Model. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 286

x Contents
 Adding Aspects to Controllers. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290
Action Filters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 290
Gallery of Action Filters. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 293
Special Filters . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 302
Building a Dynamic Loader Filter . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 306
Action Result Types. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312
Built-in Action Result Types. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 312
Custom Result Types. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 317
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .326

Chapter 9 Testing and Testability in ASP.NET MVC 327

Testability and Design. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328
Design for Testability. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 328
Loosen Up Your Design. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 330
Basics of Unit Testing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .334
Working with a Test Harness. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 335
Aspects of Testing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340
Testing Your ASP.NET MVC Code. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345
Which Part of Your Code Should You Test?. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 345
Unit Testing ASP.NET MVC Code. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 348
Dealing with Dependencies. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 352
Mocking the HTTP Context. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 358
Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .369

Contents xi
 PART III CLIENT-SIDE

Chapter 10 More Effective JavaScript 373

Revisiting the JavaScript Language. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
Language Basics. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 374
Object-Orientation in JavaScript . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 379
jQuery’s Executive Summary . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383
DOM Queries and Wrapped Sets . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 383
Selectors . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 385
Events. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 390
Aspects of JavaScript Programming . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 392
Unobtrusive Code . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 392
Reusable Packages and Dependencies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 396
Script and Resource Loading. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 399
ASP.NET MVC, Ajax and JavaScript . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 403
The Ajax Service Layer. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 404
Ways to Write Ajax ASP.NET MVC Applications. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 406

Summary. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .414

Index 415

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xii Contents
Introduction

Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you
please.
—Mark Twain

U ntil late 2008, I was happy enough with Web Forms. I did recognize its weak points
and could nicely work around them with discipline and systematic application
of design principles. But a new thing called ASP.NET MVC was receiving enthusiastic
reviews by a growing subset of the ASP.NET community. So I started to consider ASP.
NET MVC and explore its architecture and potential while constantly trying to envision
concrete business scenarios in which to employ it. I did this for about a year. Then I
switched to ASP.NET MVC.

ASP.NET was devised in the late 1990s at a time when many companies in various
industry sectors were rapidly discovering the Internet. For businesses, the Internet was
a real breakthrough, making possible innovations in software infrastructure, marketing,
distribution, and communication that were impractical or impossible before. Built on
top of classic Active Server Pages (ASP), ASP.NET was the right technology at the right
time, and it marked a turning point for the Web industry as a whole. For years, being
a Web developer meant gaining a skill set centered on HTML and JavaScript and that
was, therefore, radically different from the skills required for mainstream programming,
which at the time was mostly based on C/C++, Java, and Delphi languages. ASP.NET
combined the productivity of a visual and RAD environment with a component-based
programming model. The primary goal of ASP.NET was to enable developers to build
applications quickly and effectively without having to deal with low-level details such
as HTTP, HTML, and JavaScript intricacies. That was exactly what the ­community loudly
demanded in the late 1990s. And ASP.NET is what Microsoft delivered to address this
request, exceeding expectations by a large extent.

Ten years later, today, ASP.NET is showing signs of age. The Web Forms paradigm
still allows you to write functional applications, but it makes it harder and harder to
stay in sync with new ­emerging standards, including both W3C recommendations and
de facto industry standards. Today’s sites raise the bar of features high and demand

xiii

 things like full accessibility, themeability, Ajax, and browser ­independence, not to
mention support for new tags and features as those coming up with HTML 5 and the
fast-­growing mobile space.

Today, you can still use Web Forms in one way or another to create accessible sites
that can be skinned with CSS, offer Ajax capabilities, and work nearly the same across
a variety of browsers. Each of these features, however, is not natively supported and
incorporated in ASP.NET Web Forms, and this contributes to making the resulting appli-
cation more fragile and brittle. For this reason, a new foundation for Web development
is needed. ASP.NET MVC is the natural follow-up for ASP.NET ­developers—even though
Web Forms will still be there and improved version after version to the extent that it is
possible.

This leads me to another thought. From what I can see, most people using Web
Forms are ­maintaining applications written for ASP.NET 2.0 and topped with some
Ajax extensions. Web Forms will continue to exist for legacy projects; I’m not really sure
that for new projects that the small ­changes we had in ASP.NET 4 and those slated for
ASP.NET 5.0 will really make a difference. The real big change is switching to ASP.NET
MVC. Again, that’s just the natural follow up for ASP.NET ­developers.

Who Should Read This Book

This book is not for absolute beginners, but I do feel it is a book for everyone else,
­including ­current absolute beginners when they’re no longer beginners. The higher
your level of competency and expertise is, the less you can expect to find here that
adds value in your particular case. However, this book comes after a few years of real-
world practice, so I’m sure it has a lot of solutions that may ­appeal also the experts.
What I can say today is that there are aspects of the solutions presented in this book
that go beyond ASP.NET MVC 4, at least judging from the publicly available roadmap.

If you do ASP.NET MVC, I’m confident that you will find something in this book that
makes it worth the cost.

Assumptions
The ideal reader of this book fits the following profile to some degree. The reader has
played a bit with ASP.NET MVC (the version doesn’t really matter) and is familiar with
ASP.NET programming b ­ ecause of Web Forms development. The statement “­Having

xiv Introduction
 played a bit with ASP.NET MVC” raises the bar a bit higher than ground level and
­specifically means the following:

■■ The reader understands the overall structure of an ASP.NET MVC project (for
example, what controllers and views are for).

■■ The reader compiled a HelloWorld site and modified it a bit.

■■ The reader can securely tweak a web.config or global.asax file.

Anything beyond this level of familiarity is not a contra-indication for using this
book. I built the book (and the courseware based on it) so that everyone beyond a
basic level of knowledge can find some value in it. Rest assured that the value a
­seasoned architect can get out of it is different from the value the book has for an
experienced developer.

In addition, the book also works for everybody who is familiar with the MVC pattern
but not specifically with the ASP.NET platform. Clearly, readers with this background
won’t find in this book a step-by-step guide to the ASP.NET infrastructure, but once
they attain such knowledge from other resources (such as another recent book of mine
published by Microsoft Press, Programming Microsoft ASP.NET 4), they can get the
same value from reading this book as other readers.

Who Should Not Read This Book

The ideal reader of this book should not be looking for a step-by-step guide to
ASP.NET MVC. The book’s aim is to explain the mechanics of the framework and
­effective ways to use it. It skims through basic steps. If you think you need a beginner’s
guide, well, you probably will find this book a bit ­disappointing. You might not be able
to see the logical flow of chapters and references and you could get lost quite soon. If
you’re a beginner, I recommend you flip through the pages and purchase a copy only
if you see something that will help you in a specific or immediate way (for example,
­material that helps you solve a problem you are currently experiencing). In this case, the
book has helped you accomplish something significant.

Introduction xv
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
 “Forgive me for wearying you, Fräulein. I am afraid I am rather
an enthusiast on the subject of education. But I won’t bore you any
more with my theories.”
“You are trying to revenge yourself upon the Queen by torturing
her through her son!” burst from Fräulein von Staubach.
“Surely, Fräulein, you must be aware that her Majesty makes my
post such a delightful one, and responds with so much alacrity to the
slightest suggestion I may venture to make for her guidance, that
the feeling at which you hint would be entirely out of place and
uncalled for?”
“She—she has not perhaps treated you as graciously as you
may have expected; but then, is it noble—is it even manly—to act in
this way? To work upon an unhappy mother’s feelings——”
“Fräulein, permit me to remind you that you are speaking of her
Majesty in terms for which there is no justification. If I had any wish
for revenge—to which you seem to consider I am entitled—I could
find no better way of wreaking it than by simply resigning my office
and returning to England. I am actuated by no feelings but those of
the greatest respect and kindness towards the Queen, who was left
in my charge under the most solemn circumstances by my dead
friend. It is not my fault, but I fear it will be her own great
misfortune, that she herself is the worst enemy of her son’s
kingdom.”
“I wish I could trust you!” she cried with a gasp. “But no, you
must have some other motive. You could not endure her coldness,
her childish peevishness, her foolish little affronts, as you do, unless
you had some end in view.”
“My end is solely to see King Michael seated safely on his
father’s throne, Fräulein. I have given up my life first to Otto Georg
and now to his son, and it strikes one as a little hard that the
sacrifice should be supposed to be made for the sake of some
personal advantage. If you can suggest one, I should be glad to
hear it, for I confess it has occurred to me more than once that I am
wasting my pains on an ungrateful family.”
“I long to believe you,” said Fräulein von Staubach. “I might be
able to make your path easier, but how can I, knowing what I know?
I remember you of old—your intrigues, your deceptions, all the
course of trickery you carried on when your brother was King. I do
not—I cannot—believe that you have really changed.”
“Perhaps, Fräulein, you will believe in my disinterestedness
when the kingdom is ruined in spite of my best efforts. Pray don’t
misunderstand me. I am not uttering any threat, for I shall continue
to do my best for the King, for his father’s sake. But I cannot hope
to succeed, and you know to whom my failure will be owing.”
“I wish I could trust you!” she said again, as she passed out of
the door he held open for her, and Cyril went back to his desk well
pleased.
“Now she is divided in mind,” he said to himself. “The new light
is beating fiercely on all her preconceived notions of a martyr Queen
persecuted by a revengeful Minister. She will do all she can to
reconcile the two views, and meanwhile she will improve matters a
little.”
And Cyril turned his attention to other subjects, feeling perfect
confidence in his new agent. It was no surprise to him a few days
later to receive a visit from Mrs Jones, who entered the office with a
face wreathed in smiles.
“You’ll be pleased to hear as I’ve changed my mind about goin’
home, my lord,” she said. “I hope as your lordship haven’t give
yourself no trouble about findin’ out trains for me?”
“I am extremely glad to hear this,” returned Cyril. “You decided
that you had been a little too hasty, I suppose?”
“No, my lord, that I never will give in to. Them as was hasty has
made amends, as was proper. Her Majesty come into my nursery
this mornin’, and I stood up very stiff-like, as my feelin’s bein’ hurt.
But she speaks to me very pleasant, and says, says she, ‘Mrs Jones,
I spoke hasty to you a short time ago, and it may be that through
ignorance of your language I said more nor I meant. I hope very
much that you have made no other arrangements, and will stay with
us. I ask it as a favour to myself, and also to the King, as will break
his heart if you leave him.’ There, my lord! I was all in a flutter to
think of a crowned Queen talkin’ to me of favours, and the little King
come runnin’ and says, ‘Nursie not goin’ away. Nursie stay and tell
stories,’ and I burst out cryin’ like any old crocodile, as they say, and
told the Queen that my heart was just about broke to think of
leavin’, and that I asked no better than to stay. And this afternoon
her Majesty have sent me a beautiful gown-piece of black silk, that
thick you might use it for a parachute if you wanted to, and so I’ve
took back my notice, my lord.”
This was extremely satisfactory so far as it went, but Cyril was
not long in discovering that the part he had played with respect to
Mrs Jones’s remaining a member of the royal household was not
appreciated by the Queen. It was tolerably clear that Fräulein von
Staubach had repeated verbatim, or, at any rate, rather in an
exaggerated than a diminished form, the conversation she had held
with him, and that the Queen had taken it to heart. She was very
careful in these days to entrench herself behind an impassable
barrier of etiquette, and she indulged in no freaks and no outbursts
of temper, while yet she kept Cyril at a distance, and made it evident
that he was in disgrace. This little exhibition of spite could do Cyril
no harm, for he still held the reins of authority and controlled the
purse-strings; but it was a very uncomfortable state of affairs for the
other members of the Court, who were obliged to do their utmost to
keep in favour with both parties. In these circumstances, Cyril
thought it a suitable opportunity to ask for a few days’ leave of
absence in order to pay his projected visit to Bellaviste, and the
permission was granted with a most unflattering readiness, which,
however, only caused him amusement.
“I don’t think she’ll be up to much in the way of tricks while I’m
gone,” he said to himself; “this last pulling-up has taken her rather
aback. She must know that I shall hear of all that goes on, and hurry
back if there is anything wrong. I don’t really like going, and yet I
must have a word or two with Drakovics. He shall learn to
understand that our partnership is not to be all on one side. If he is
not going to back me up, he may look out for some one else to pull
the chestnuts out of the fire for him. And I’m not sorry to have a
little change from this wretched place. I wonder whether there
would be time to run up to Vienna for a day or two? Oh no; my
precious charge would be getting into mischief, and, after all,
Bellaviste is better than this dull hole. Nothing much can happen in
five days. The servants know that I am master, and Stefanovics and
the Baroness will keep me posted up. If any one launches out on the
strength of my being gone, I shall be able to deal with them when I
come back.”
But on the day before that fixed for his departure, he discovered
that his authority in the household was not quite so firmly rooted as
he had imagined. It happened that in the course of the morning a
telegram arrived for him, and was brought into his office by one of
the royal footmen. The telegram was of little importance, but
something unfamiliar in the aspect of the bearer struck Cyril.
“Wait a minute,” he said, as the man was leaving the room.
“How is this? You are not Alexander Sergeivics, but Peter, and you
were one of the servants left at Bellaviste to look after the Palace.”
“Yes, Excellency; but my brother’s wife is dangerously ill at
Bellaviste, and I am taking his place that he may be with her.”
“Indeed! an excellent arrangement; but you will have to learn,
and so will your brother, that servants in the royal household are not
at liberty to exchange their posts to suit their own convenience.”
“Not if they have her Majesty’s sanction, Excellency?” There was
triumph clearly visible under the man’s deferential manner.
“Her Majesty’s pleasure overrides all regulations, of course. I am
to understand that your brother obtained her consent?”
“It is so, Excellency. Having obtained leave of absence, I came
to Tatarjé to tell my brother about his wife, and her Majesty, on
hearing the news, granted him permission to return to Bellaviste
immediately. When my brother ventured to suggest that it was
requisite for him to obtain leave from your Excellency, her Majesty
was pleased to say, ‘What has Count Mortimer to do with it? I have
told you to go, I the Queen. That is enough.’”
“Quite enough,” returned Cyril genially. “Ask M. Paschics to step
this way, and to bring with him the household book. The change and
the reason for it must be entered.”
The man departed, and Cyril walked to the window.
“There’s something fishy about the business,” he said; “but the
Queen has made it next to impossible to clear it up. I am pretty sure
I remember that there was something suspicious about this man
Peter. Come in, Paschics.”
M. Paschics, who entered in response to the invitation, was
ostensibly Cyril’s most confidential clerk, and there were only a few
who knew that he was in reality a member of the Secret Police,
specially detailed to watch over the royal household. The book which
he brought with him was to all appearance merely a record of the
comings, goings, and conduct of the domestics attached to the
Court; but by means of a series of private marks, the meaning of
which was known only to himself and Cyril, it contained also an
account of their political opinions and personal histories.
“You have heard that Peter Sergeivics is at present taking his
brother’s place,” said Cyril. “Turn up his name, and let me see what
there is against him.”
“He is a member of the Golden Eagle Society for the study of
Scythian literature, your Excellency, and has been heard on several
occasions to express approval of the sentiments uttered on St
Gabriel’s day by his Beatitude the Metropolitan.”
“I knew there was something wrong. Those literary societies are
invariably political clubs in disguise. Well, Paschics, this man is to be
watched. Notice his resorts and his associates, and let me know the
result of your shadowing.”
“Yes, your Excellency. He is not on duty this afternoon and
evening, and I hear that he is going into the town. As a stranger, he
wishes to see what the place is like.”
“And very natural too. If he finds any friends here, it is as well
that we should know it. That is all for the present.”
Paschics retired, and Cyril returned to his accounts. Later in the
day he was witness of a curious little incident which he did not at
the time connect with Peter Sergeivics and his suspicious record, but
which proved afterwards to have a bearing upon it. Standing at a
window which overlooked the approach, Cyril saw, to his
astonishment, the O’Malachy advancing to the door of the Villa. His
clothes were faultless, his moustache waxed; there was something
jaunty about his very limp. A stranger would have taken him for a
prince travelling incognito, or at the least for an exquisite of the
Pannonian Court; and Cyril, who knew him only too well, wondered
what on earth he was up to now. The door of the room was slightly
ajar, and he heard the familiar voice, with its rich rolling intonation,
asking leave to see over the Villa. The obvious answer was returned
that sightseers were not admitted at present, to which the
O’Malachy appeared to reply by producing the local guidebook,
which mentioned that visitors were allowed to go through the State
apartments on two days in the week. On being assured, however,
that this did not apply to the times at which the Court was in
residence, he perceived his error, and retired, with profuse
apologies, to view the Villa from the gardens, admission to which
was practically unrestricted.
“Pretty cool cheek of him to come here!” said Cyril to himself. “I
wonder he didn’t make use of my name as a reference. Now, what
was the object of this, I should like to know?”
But his curiosity remained unsatisfied, and he thought no more
of either the O’Malachy or Sergeivics until Paschics presented himself
as soon as he entered his office the next morning. A glance at the
detective’s face showed Cyril that he was bubbling over with news,
and he looked about for eavesdroppers, and made sure that the
door and windows were shut, before he would allow him to tell his
tale.
“According to your Excellency’s orders, I shadowed Peter
Sergeivics yesterday,” began Paschics. “In the afternoon I saw him
leave the Villa by the servants’ entrance, and take the road to the
town. While still in the grounds, however, he was met by an elderly
gentleman of military appearance, walking with a slight limp.” Cyril
uttered an exclamation. “As your Excellency has surmised, I
recognised this person as the Scythian officer who was arrested by
mistake some time ago, and set at liberty immediately afterwards.
Perceiving by his livery that Sergeivics belonged to the household,
he stopped him, and apparently requested him to point out to him
the principal architectural features of the Villa; for Sergeivics gave up
his intention of proceeding to the town, and escorted him round the
gardens, exhibiting the chief points of interest. I must confess with
regret that I could not succeed in following them sufficiently closely
to hear their conversation. At last Colonel O’Malachy presented
Sergeivics with a handsome pourboire, and departed. I discovered
afterwards that he had tried to gain admission to the interior of the
Villa, but had been refused an entrance.”
Cyril nodded. “I saw that myself,” he said.
“After this, your Excellency, Sergeivics returned to the servants’
quarters, and did not go out again until the evening. Following upon
his steps, I tracked him to a tavern in a low part of the town. Having
seen him seated at one of the tables, I hurried to the lodging of an
acquaintance of mine near at hand, and borrowed from him the long
coat, high boots, and fur cap of a droschky-driver. With the aid of
the wig and false beard which I always carry about with me, my
disguise was complete, and I entered the tavern and sat down at the
same table as my quarry. I then noticed that the table was close to
the end of a passage, in which was a door. From time to time one of
the men in the room would enter the passage and disappear
through the doorway. Again, several persons came in one by one
from the street, and, believing themselves unnoticed, also slipped
through. Among these, I am certain, was Colonel O’Malachy. He was
disguised in a country cloak and cap; but I could not mistake his
limp, nor his white moustache. I observed that all who passed in at
this mysterious door were subjected to some test. They knocked, I
think, in a peculiar scraping manner; but I cannot be sure of this,
owing to the distance and to the noise around me, and also to the
necessity of not appearing to watch too closely. Moreover, certain
questions, which also I could not hear, were asked and answered
before the door was opened. Then, as it seemed to me, a badge of
some kind was exhibited, which was worn on the under-side of the
left-hand lapel of the coat, and admission was immediately granted.
All this time, your Excellency, I was behaving as though I had
already drunk too much brandy, and offering to treat Sergeivics and
the other guests. The Thracians, as your Excellency knows, do not
become hilarious when excited by liquor; but I was talkative and
inclined to be quarrelsome. Sergeivics tried to shake me off, and
when he thought he had directed my attention to a group of fresh
arrivals, rose and endeavoured to slip down the passage. But I
caught him by the coat, and said in a drunken voice, ‘Not so fast, my
friend. There seems to be something interesting going on in there,
and I should like to come too.’ He looked at me as though he could
have killed me, but bent over the table and fixed me with his eye.
‘Look here,’ he said, ‘I have no business to tell you what it is; but
you have been so liberal with the brandy that I don’t mind letting
you know in confidence. You have heard of the Freemasons?’ ‘Oh
yes,’ I said; ‘they worship the devil, and their rites are proscribed.’
‘Stuff!’ he said; ‘that is what the priests tell you. Count Mortimer
himself is a Freemason, and therefore the police have orders to wink
at their doings, in spite of the law. This is one of their lodges, and I
am a member, so you see I can’t take you in, much as I should like.’
I gave a tipsy grunt, and let him go, when he vanished down the
passage at once. I sat there some time longer, talking and treating,
and saw other people go in, some of them officers, as I knew by
their walk, and others, I am sure, priests. Then, fearing to arouse
suspicion, I staggered out, and, taking up a position from which I
could watch the place, tracked Sergeivics back to the Villa about an
hour and a half later. That is my report, your Excellency.”
“And a very good one it is. I shall require you again presently,
Paschics. You can go now, and tell Sergeivics that I want him.”
“But your Excellency does not intend to tax the man with his
treachery? He will be desperate—and he is probably armed.”
“So am I,” was the brief response; and Paschics retired. When
Sergeivics entered the room, Cyril was seated at his writing-table,
looking for something in one of the drawers.
“Ah, Peter Sergeivics—wait a minute,” he said, glancing up. “By
the way, what’s that on the left-hand lapel of your coat?”
The man’s face turned pale, and his hand went up in a terrified
snatch. Finding nothing, he recollected himself immediately.
“Perhaps you will kindly tell me what is wrong there,
Excellency?”
“Nothing—now,” responded Cyril; “but something very wrong
was there last night.” There was a sudden movement of the
footman’s arm, but Cyril was too quick for him. The right hand which
had been hidden in the drawer came up suddenly, holding a revolver.
“Throw up your hands this moment, and stand where you are, or
you are a dead man!” were the words which smote upon the ear of
the astonished Sergeivics, as he found himself covered by the
weapon.
“You will not murder me, Excellency?” he faltered.
“Not on any account; but I shall have no compunction in killing
you in self-defence. Peter Sergeivics, you came to Tatarjé under the
orders of a revolutionary committee, charged to help them in
carrying out their schemes. By an ingenious device, you obtained an
opportunity for receiving orders from the Scythian agent here and
furnishing him with information. Last night you attended a meeting
at which the final plans for the outbreak were agreed upon, and the
parts to be played by the various conspirators assigned to them.”
“What does your Excellency want with me?” whined the luckless
man.
“I want nothing, as you see. If you care to offer any
information, the fact will be taken into account in deciding your
sentence. If you do not, you will merely be dismissed from the royal
household, and it will become known that you have retired with a
pension, awarded in consideration of the loyal assistance furnished
by you to the Government, which has led to the detection of the
plot.”
Sergeivics writhed. “You know that I should be dead within an
hour, Excellency,” he whimpered. “If I tell you all I know, will you
guarantee that I shall be saved from the vengeance of the rest?”
“Stay where you are, if you please,” as the wretched man made
a movement as though to throw himself at Cyril’s feet. “It will be just
as uncomfortable for you to be shot by me as by your fellow-
conspirators. I have said that I do not ask you for information; but if
yours should prove to be of any value, I will guarantee that you shall
be sent to Bellaviste under a sufficient escort to protect you from the
vengeance of your friends. This is showing quite undeserved mercy
to one who has deliberately plotted to murder the Queen and the
young King——”
“Never, Excellency! There was no thought of murder. We merely
——”
 “Ah, your information differs from mine, then?”
“Your Excellency must have been misinformed. Our object was
simply to secure the persons of the King and Queen, and to induce
the Queen to consent to the King’s conversion to the Orthodox faith.”
“To induce her? yes. And when persuasion failed——?”
The man’s face grew pale again. “There was something said
about a few days without food for the Queen, and the knowledge
that her child and attendants were suffering in the same way,” he
muttered.
“Exactly; and what would that have meant but murder, in the
case of delicate women and a child? And this precious scheme was
to be carried out to-night, was it, that you might have at least three
clear days before I should begin to feel surprised at receiving no
news from Tatarjé? or perhaps you would like to set me right on this
point also?”
“No, Excellency; your information is correct.”
“And the plot is supported by the garrison, the Church, and the
townspeople, headed no doubt by the mayor?”
“Yes, Excellency; and as you know, of course——”
“Yes, I was waiting for this. By whom besides?”
“I—I fear your Excellency knows more than I do. The message
which the head of our circle at Bellaviste gave me to bring here was
merely that a certain person was propitious, but must not be too
confidently relied upon.”
“Take care. To whom did you understand that message to
allude?”
“To—to the Metropolitan, Excellency.”
“You are telling me lies.”
“No, no, indeed, Excellency. I will swear it by the Holy Fire, by
all the saints! We of the lower levels are not admitted into the
possession of important secrets, but we conjectured among
ourselves that the Metropolitan was meant.”
“Well, be careful. To continue: the King and Queen were to be
imprisoned in the Bishop’s Palace, which is capable of standing a
siege; and when the conversion was effected, the Queen was to be
further compelled to place the kingdom under the protection of
Scythia, and request the favour and support of the Emperor?”
“Yes, Excellency.”
“And if by any chance I did not start to-night for Bellaviste, I
was to be killed?”
“That is only natural, Excellency.”
“Quite so. Well, I will take you with me to Bellaviste when I start
to-night.”
“You start to-night, Excellency? But—the station is watched.
Their Majesties will not be allowed to travel.”
“That need not interfere with my journey. I have unmasked
plots before this one, my friend. You see this cigarette-case with the
monogram in brilliants? I will place it on the edge of the table close
to you. Lower your left hand—be careful, I am ready to shoot—take
the case, and put it in your right-hand outside pocket. You
understand? Good.”
He rang sharply the bell which stood on the table, and Paschics
burst open the door and rushed in, followed by two or three
servants, and pausing in astonishment when he saw the tranquil
condition of affairs.
“I must have this man searched,” said Cyril. “I suspect him of
being in possession of the cigarette-case presented to me by the
Emperor of Pannonia, and bearing his Majesty’s cipher in brilliants. It
is possible that you may find other stolen property upon him as well.
I missed one of my revolvers the day before yesterday.”
In an instant Sergeivics was seized and held by two footmen
while Paschics searched his pockets. The cigarette-case and a
revolver were produced almost immediately, and laid in triumph on
the table; but nothing else was revealed by the search. Cyril nodded
pleasantly.
“I thought so,” he said. “Well, it is quite out of the question that
I should postpone my journey on account of this, and therefore the
man had better be taken to Bellaviste to-night by the train in which I
shall travel. Instruct the police to provide a proper guard, M.
Paschics, and report to me when you have made arrangements.”
 CHAPTER X.
A NEW RELATIONSHIP.

Left to himself, Cyril rose from his chair, and began to walk rapidly
up and down the room, maturing some plan in his mind as he
walked. Once or twice his meditations were interrupted by the
entrance of a servant with a letter or a message; but he disposed
quickly of these stray pieces of business, and returned to the
consideration of his more important scheme. When Paschics came
back, he sent him to summon M. Stefanovics, and then unfolded to
the two men the tale of the conspiracy which he had forced from the
wretched Sergeivics.
“But this is fearful!” cried M. Stefanovics. “Surely you have taken
some steps, Count? Their Majesties ought to have left the town
already.”
“The railway-station is watched, and even if it was too early to
oppose the departure of the Court by force, nothing could be easier
than to wreck the train,” said Cyril curtly.
“But why not telegraph for help to Bellaviste—or to Feodoratz, if
M. Drakovics is too far off to be of any assistance?”
“Because I have for some time past suspected that some one
was tampering with our telegrams, and now I am sure of it. I have
just received a telegram which ought to have reached me three days
ago, but which the operator says must have been delayed in
transmission. It is from M. Drakovics, begging me not to leave
Tatarjé until I have heard again from him, and if it had arrived in
proper time it would have delayed my journey. Now, of course, it is
too late.”
The eyes of the other two men met with a puzzled expression.
“But if you suspect the officials here,” suggested M. Stefanovics,
“why not despatch a telegram from some point outside the city?”
“Because the danger does not arise merely from treachery here.
That would scarcely explain the delay in this telegram, and certainly
not the confusion and omissions which have puzzled me in others.
No; I believe that the conspirators are in the habit of tapping the
wires between this and Bellaviste, and so reading, and occasionally
altering, the telegrams which pass between the Premier and myself.”
“Then, you consider, Count, that to telegraph for assistance
would simply defeat all our hopes of catching the miscreants
unawares?”
“Exactly. Whatever is to be done must be done from this end.”
“You would perhaps suggest that their Majesties should cross
the frontier, and take refuge in Dardanian territory?”
“No. I had thought of that at first; but besides producing an
extremely unfortunate impression abroad, the attempt would be
useless, for the Prince and Princess have left their country residence,
and returned to Bashi Konak for the opening of the Legislature.”
“But still, would it not be advisable for their Majesties, under the
pretext of a simple drive, to cross into Dardania, and then to make
all speed for Bashi Konak?”
“It might be, except that everybody in the Villa and the town
knows that no one belonging to the Court will drive to-day. You
cannot surely have forgotten that the Queen is commemorating the
late King’s birthday in retirement in her own apartments? If orders
were given to prepare a carriage, it would instantly be surmised that
something alarming had occurred, and a small band of resolute men
could easily stop us at a dozen points between this and the
Dardanian frontier. Moreover, we must not forget that the relations
between the Scythian and Dardanian Courts are very close, and to
my mind the message brought by this man Sergeivics to his fellow-
conspirators here points to some knowledge of the plot on the part
of Baron Natarin, if not of a more exalted individual behind him. It
might even be a portion of the design to drive her Majesty into
seeking refuge in Dardania.”
“One must hope,” said M. Stefanovics, with some pique, “that
you have some plan of your own to propose for securing the safety
of their Majesties, Count, since you see so many flaws in all that I
can suggest.”
 “Exactly; I have a plan—but I know that you will see
innumerable flaws in it, although it is the only one that seems to me
to offer a hope of success.”
“If it commends itself to your Excellency,” said Paschics stoutly,
“that is enough for me.”
M. Stefanovics gave a nod of acquiescence, and Cyril brought
out a map of the district and unrolled it. “You perceive,” he said,
“that in this case the railway and the telegraph, instead of being, as
usual, our friends, are our enemies, since they are in the power of
the conspirators. My idea is, then, to avoid them altogether, and
provide a means of escape for their Majesties by way of the old
post-road, which takes quite a different route from the railway, and
reaches at last the estates of Prince Mirkovics, whose loyalty no one
can doubt, and who will provide us with a safe asylum until help can
be obtained from Bellaviste.”
“But you forget, my dear Count, that spring can scarcely be said
to have begun, and that the post-road passes through the forest and
across the mountains before it reaches the Mirkovics domain.”
“I do not forget it; but this is a matter of life and death,
Stefanovics.”
“But surely the presence of so large a body of travellers on the
old road would create such a stir that it would be impossible for the
Court to travel unnoticed, not to mention the difficulty of providing
transport for so many?”
“You are right, and delay or recognition would simply mean that
we should be pursued and brought back. No; I do not intend to
conduct a Court progress, after the manner of a second flight to
Varennes. My idea is simply that M. Paschics and I should smuggle
the Queen, the little King, and one lady-in-waiting, through the
country in disguise.”
The audacity of the proposal took away M. Stefanovics’s breath.
“And the rest of the Court?” he inquired blankly.
“I am afraid they must stay here, in blissful ignorance, until the
escape of their Majesties is discovered. The conspirators are not
likely to be bloodthirsty, except in the case of unfortunate suspects
like myself.”
 “We are to remain at the Villa, while you and the Queen—Holy
Peter! do you imagine the Queen would ever consent to such a plan
of escape, Count?”
“I trust she may, if it is put before her suddenly. If she had time
to think over it, I agree with you that there would be no hope. You
see how the thing works out. I must pretend to start for Bellaviste as
I had arranged to do, in order to avert suspicion; but you must let
me into the Villa again by the private stairway. Then we must lay the
matter before the Queen, and prevail upon her to start at once. We
can only count on being left in peace until the time when the Villa is
usually quiet for the night.”
“The risk is terrible. And yet, what else——? But you will never
obtain her Majesty’s consent.”
“Then her Majesty will have the pleasure of seeing me shot
down before her eyes, I presume. But do you agree to the plan in so
far as you are concerned?”
“How can I venture to object to it? It seems the only hope, and
you are risking more than the rest of us. A few days’ imprisonment
would be the worst punishment we should receive. But the hardships
of your journey will be dreadful for women and a child.”
“Better than the dungeons of the Bishop’s palace—that is all one
can say. The season is altogether on the side of the conspirators.
Then you will come into the scheme, Stefanovics? Now, Paschics, for
your part. You have some relations living not far off, I believe?”
“Yes, Excellency; a married brother, who farms his own land.”
“And you did not go to see them at Christmas, I think? Well, it
will be convenient if you pay them a visit to-day. Start after lunch,
and take a bag—full of presents for the children, or delicacies from
the town, or anything of the sort. You may let it be known that you
will not be back to-night. At your brother’s, hire his lightest cart, with
the two best horses he has, and tell him he will find it the day after
to-morrow left for him at No. 4 posting-house on the old road to
Bellaviste. Put in some straw—as much as you can—and any rugs
you can get to make it comfortable, and as soon as it is dark this
evening, drive the cart to the spot where the corner of the Alexova
estate touches the old road. Wait there under the trees and give
your horses a good feed. If we succeed we will join you; if not, you
had better get back to your brother’s as fast as you can, for your
own sake. By the bye, could you disguise yourself as a courier?”
“With the greatest ease, your Excellency.”
“Then take with you anything you will require. You will be
wanted to-morrow as courier to an English family whose carriage
has met with an accident. I will see about the passport.”
“One moment, Count,” said M. Stefanovics, with some
embarrassment. “I do not wish to interfere with your excellent plans;
but you are, after all, a young man and unmarried. Would it not be
more suitable—less open to unfavourable remark—if Madame
Stefanovics and I undertook the responsible task of conducting her
Majesty’s flight, in conjunction, of course, with M. Paschics?”
“It would simply be putting my neck in a noose,” muttered
Paschics, gazing apprehensively at the placid face and comfortable
girth of the worthy chamberlain.
“I have no objection whatever,” returned Cyril. “You must see
for yourself that I risk my life in coming back at all, and the slightest
misfortune or accident might lead to our being hunted down like
wolves. By all means carry the thing through, Stefanovics. No doubt
you have more influence than I have over the Queen, who is not
exactly the easiest of ladies to manage.”
“True,” remarked M. Stefanovics sadly. “Count, I have done you
an injustice. You alone can carry out this scheme, if any one can do
it. I will not venture, for I should only fail, and do harm to others.”
Cyril laughed silently to himself as the two men left the room,
and then turned his attention to arranging several matters of
importance connected with the great scheme. It was necessary first
to write to M. Drakovics; but when the letter was finished he put it
into his pocket, and did not post it. Next he busied himself in
drawing up a passport for the party of English travellers of whom he
had spoken to Paschics, and who comprised a Mrs Weston, her
brother, her little son, her nurse, and an Italian courier. The
document did not leave Cyril’s hands; but when he had finished with
it, it bore other signatures than his, carefully copied from a genuine
passport which lay before him on the table. There was one thing
which he did not attempt to imitate—the stamp of the frontier
official whose duty it was to see that all passports were in order.
Cyril had not a stamp at hand, and it would risk suspicion, and
certainly cause delay, to send for one, while a bad imitation might
arouse doubts as to the genuineness of the whole thing. It went to
his heart to set out with the document incomplete; but he knew that
it is sometimes necessary to sacrifice technical perfection to practical
utility, and after drying his handiwork carefully in the sun, he put it
by safely. He had intended after this to take advantage of Dietrich’s
absence at dinner to go to his own quarters and pack a small bag
with necessaries, hiding it in his office, where the valet would not be
likely to find it; but he decided that it was improbable he would be
able to carry it, and contented himself with putting two or three
indispensable articles in his pockets. There were still various things
to be arranged in view of his impending departure, and he spent the
afternoon in attending to these. He had his farewell audience of the
Queen, dined with the household, and drove to the station with
Stefanovics, who was deputed to see him off. There were several
dignitaries on the platform, who had come for the same purpose—
the mayor of the town, the commandant of the garrison, an
archdeacon to represent the Bishop, and one or two others. It was
only right that they should be there; but Cyril felt sure that some of
them would have found excuses and stayed away if it had not been
that they were eager to assure themselves of his departure by the
evidence of their own eyes. He stayed on the platform talking to
them for some minutes, and then entered his carriage, which was
one of those belonging to the royal train, but had been detailed for
the service of the Minister of the Household.
“It’s a blessing all that fuss is over!” he said aloud, as the door
was shut after he had shaken hands with the officials outside. “Now
that we are left to ourselves, Dietrich, I think I will change my
things. What is the good of a holiday if one doesn’t wear holiday
clothes?”
To Dietrich, who knew that his master shared the
incomprehensible dislike of most Englishmen for livery of any kind, it
was quite natural that he should be anxious to change his official
uniform at once for a suit of ordinary clothes, and the transformation
was quickly effected and concealed by the regulation overcoat which
had been worn in driving to the station. It was well that this
precaution had been taken, for before long a sudden hubbub arose
on the platform, followed by a visit of the mayor to the carriage.
Sergeivics, with his escort of police, had just been conducted to a
third-class compartment, and the gentlemen on the platform were
anxious to know of what crime he was accused. Happily Cyril was
able to gratify their curiosity by a vivid description of the theft of the
cigarette-case, aggravated, as it was, by the possession of the
revolver, which had, no doubt, also been purloined, and his account
interested them so much that they all crowded into the carriage to
hear it. Cyril began to fear that they would insist on travelling with
him as far as the next station, which would have complicated
matters seriously; but it was as important for them to be in Tatarjé
that night as to see him out of it, and they returned to the platform
precipitately when the bell rang. The moment for Cyril’s great coup
was close at hand; but there was not the slightest trace of
excitement visible in his manner as he stretched himself in an arm-
chair, and raised his arms behind his head in a long yawn.
“I shan’t want you any more to-night, Dietrich; and don’t come
bothering me at every station. Get a good night’s rest; I shall ring
fast enough if I want you. And, by the bye, if I don’t call out to you
when we get to Bellaviste in the morning, don’t come in and wake
me. See that the car is shunted into the siding, and take this letter
straight to his Excellency the Premier. You understand? You are not
to lose a minute. Then go home: if I have got there before you, it
will be all right; if not, wait for orders. You can go now.”
But Dietrich had failed fully to comprehend the order, and it was
necessary to repeat and emphasise it, so that the train was already
in motion when he betook himself to his own compartment. Cyril,
who had drawn up one of the blinds, and was bowing his farewells
to the group on the platform, turned with a sudden quickening of
the heart as he heard the door shut behind the valet. The speed was
increasing; in another moment his time for action would come. He
threw off his overcoat, and felt mechanically in his pockets to see
whether he had transferred to them everything he wanted. The train
moved slowly out of the lighted station into the dark night, and Cyril
opened the door of communication, and stepped out on the
gangway between the two carriages. Climbing over the railing, he
remained for a moment holding to its outer edge, then let himself
drop. He fell clear of the line, and rolled out of the way of the train,
remaining prostrate at the side of the road until the last carriage had
passed, then climbed the bank (the station stood outside the town),
and plunged into the wood which fringed it. He had studied his route
carefully on the map, and carried a compass on his watch-chain,
which he consulted every now and then with the help of a match, so
that he succeeded in making his way safely round the outskirts of
the town without approaching any house. He was tired, wet, and
muddy when he reached at length the wall which surrounded the
grounds of the Villa, and he felt it to be an additional grievance that
he failed to strike the gate exactly, and had to make a considerable
circuit before he came to it. The gate was reached at last, however,
and it responded easily and noiselessly to the well-oiled key which
he took from his pocket. Crossing the grounds, he came to the
shrubbery opposite the terrace, and for some few minutes watched
the sentry pacing up and down. Then there came the sound of the
opening of a door, and the little red ball of light from a cigar became
visible. This was the signal which Cyril had agreed upon with
Stefanovics, and the next time that the sentry’s back was turned he
crept across the terrace, and arrived in the doorway so suddenly as
to startle the chamberlain almost into a cry. Leaving the door ajar,
they crept up the narrow winding staircase on which it opened, and
which was a relic of the days of the last king of the house of Franza.
It communicated with a room which had been used by King Peter for
receiving his Ministers—and other persons—and which now served
the Queen for holding private audiences. She disliked the secret stair
on account of its associations, and had wished to have it bricked up;
but Cyril had succeeded in persuading her that it was an interesting
historic survival, and might possibly prove useful again, little thinking
how soon he was to discover the truth of his own words. One of the
only two keys which fitted this door was in his possession by virtue
of his office, and the lock moved easily.
“Ask to speak to Baroness von Hilfenstein,” he whispered to
Stefanovics, as the latter preceded him into the room; “but on no
account let out that I am here until you are sure that no one else
can hear what you have to say.”
He waited in darkness behind the partially closed door until the
sound of voices showed him that Stefanovics had succeeded in
finding some one; but still he was not summoned, and time was
flying. Pushing open the door, he appeared in the room, to the
accompaniment of a little scream from the Baroness, and an
outpouring of self-justification from Stefanovics.
“The Baroness refuses to admit us to her Majesty’s presence,
Count, although she tells me that the Queen has sent away her
maids, and is talking over the fire with Fräulein von Staubach. It is in
vain that I——”
“Consider the hour, my dear Count,” said the Baroness
reprovingly. “I must beg of you to retire immediately. It is in the
highest degree irregular for you to seek an audience of the Queen at
such a time.”
“My dear Baroness,” returned Cyril, “you know me pretty well by
this time, and will believe me when I tell you that my business is of
such importance that if you won’t consent to inform her Majesty of
my desire to see her I must announce myself.”
After a glance at his face to assure herself that he was in
earnest, the Baroness withdrew without a word, and the next sound
that reached his ears was the Queen’s voice in the adjoining room.
“Count Mortimer here again? I thought we were free from him
for a week at least! He asks to see me at this hour? The man must
be mad. Most certainly I refuse to see him, Baroness. Be so good as
to tell him that I shall know how to resent this intrusion.”
A low-toned remonstrance from the Baroness and a frightened
murmur from Fräulein von Staubach followed, interrupted ruthlessly
by Cyril.
“Madame,” he cried, approaching the door of communication, “I
have returned at the risk of my life to bring you news of a plot which
aims at the forcible conversion of your son to the Orthodox Church,
and the subjugation of his kingdom to Scythia.”
“A plot to convert my son!” The door was thrown open, and
Cyril had a momentary glimpse of a figure with terrified dark eyes,
and rippling chestnut hair flowing over a white dressing-gown. Then
the Baroness dashed forward, shutting the door in his face, and he
heard her agonised voice—
“Madame, remember your position! I entreat your Majesty——”
The rest was inaudible, and Cyril stood fuming over the precious
time which was being lost because the old woman would not allow
him to see the Queen in a dressing-gown. But the door opened
again almost immediately, and the Queen stood on the threshold,
pale and calm. The other ladies had clad her in a loose black gown,
and hidden away her hair under the flowing crape veil she wore in
the daytime, and she looked a different being.
“Tell me, Count,” she said, “when is this plot to be carried out?”
“To-night, madame; and I believe very shortly. You and the King
were to be seized in your beds and carried off to the Bishop’s palace,
there to be starved into compliance with the demands of the
conspirators.”
“And you would advise us, no doubt, to take refuge in the castle
immediately?”
“I fear, madame, that you would only be running into danger.
The garrison is honeycombed with disaffection.”
“Then there is only one chance left, for I know well that it is
impossible to defend this house. We must go to the municipal
offices, and throw ourselves on the protection of the burghers.”
“Unfortunately, madame, there is no safety there. The whole of
Tatarjé is utterly disloyal.”
“Then what are we to do?” Her voice rang piteously in his ears;
but she dashed the tears resolutely from her eyes. “Count, I rely
upon you to help me. This plot threatens my son’s honour—not only
his kingdom. You have not come here simply to warn us of the
approach of inevitable danger. You have a plan to save the King. Tell
me what it is. I will follow your advice.”
 She had risen so completely above her usual level that for the
moment Cyril was tempted to forget her inveterate distrust of him.
He answered promptly—
“There is one way to save the King and yourself, madame. If
you will consent to adopt a disguise, and to start immediately upon a
somewhat troublesome journey, with your son and one lady in
attendance, I will do my best to conduct you safely to Bellaviste.”
“Ah! you have made plans for this journey?”
“One does not generally undertake such a venture at
haphazard, madame. I have done what I could to ensure success,
and I may say that I have good hopes of attaining it.”
“And what,” she demanded, in a voice that made him jump, “is
there to assure me that this is not a plot of your own, invented for
the purpose of making me ridiculous or even humiliating me in the
eyes of the world? Where are the proofs of the conspiracy you have
discovered?”
“I have none,” said Cyril laconically. Her change of tone had
restored his mind immediately to its usual balance. “If you will wait
half an hour or so, madame, the proofs will probably arrive in the
persons of the conspirators; but it will then be too late to save your
son.”
She bit her lips with vexation. “It is useless to ignore the fact,
Count, that the relations between us have not been wholly amicable
of late, and you are popularly supposed never to let slip an
opportunity of revenging yourself.”
“A guilty conscience is usually an unpleasant companion,
madame; but on this occasion it is also an untrustworthy adviser.”
“How? Do you venture to imply—— You must be aware that you
are asking me to repose an extraordinary degree of confidence in
you, Count.”
“Not more than your husband reposed in me, madame. Have I
ever betrayed that confidence? Even when you most disliked my
measures, have they not proved to be advantageous—even
necessary?”
“Unhappily they have. But this case is wholly without
precedent.”
 “It is for you, madame, to decide whether you prefer to be
saved in an unprecedented way, or ruined in a manner which is
unfortunately not entirely new. If your son is to be rescued, I must
ask you to make up your mind quickly now, and to be obedient
afterwards.”
“Obedient! That is a strange word to use to me!”
“I have no doubt that the action is equally new to you,
madame.”
She turned from him with a gesture of disgust. “How am I to
decide?” she asked angrily. “On the one side I risk my son’s
kingdom, on the other my good name. If I could only trust him!
Baroness, I will not appeal to you. If Count Mortimer suggested a
journey to the moon, you would only inquire mildly, ‘By what route
does the Herr Graf propose to conduct us?’ Sophie, you are not a
blind idolater. Tell me quickly—shall I trust him?”
Poor Fräulein von Staubach, finding herself thus appealed to,
turned first red and then white, twisted her fingers painfully
together, and sought inspiration in the corners of the ceiling. Her
advice came suddenly, accompanied by a rush of tears and a great
gulp: “Trust him, madame. I believe you may.”
“Then you also have gone over to the enemy!” said the Queen
sarcastically, as she turned again to Cyril. “I congratulate you upon
your convert, Count. I wish you would exercise the same influence
over me; but as you have not thought fit to do so, I am afraid I must
ask you to swear that you have told me nothing but the truth, and
that your motives are what you represent them to be. Will you do
this?”
“No, madame, I will not swear. If you cannot accept the word of
a man who has endangered his life in order to serve you, you must
drag him down to destruction with yourself.”
She looked up in alarm, and caught sight of the repressed fury
in his face. She gave a little gasp, and her eyes fell before his.
“Forgive me, Count. I do trust you. I will obey.”
Cyril’s heart leapt within him, but he betrayed no sign of
exultation over his victory. His tones were sternly business-like as he
said—
 “Then, madame, I must beg of you to disguise yourself as an
Englishwoman. Put on a tailor-made gown and a small felt hat, if
you please, and a short straight veil à l’anglaise, covering only the
upper part of the face. It would make it less easy for you to be
recognised if the dress was not black, but of some coloured cloth.
Bring also a fur cloak, for you will find it very cold. Which of the
ladies is to be summoned to attend you?”
“Pardon me, madame; that is my place,” said Baroness von
Hilfenstein, as the Queen looked round helplessly.
“I cannot consent to that, Baroness,” said Cyril. “You could not
support the fatigues of the journey, and moreover, your presence will
be needed here. Have you any preference as to your attendant,
madame?”
“I should like to have Fräulein von Staubach if—if you—if it
would not do any harm,” faltered the Queen.
“That is the very selection I would have ventured to suggest,
madame. Fräulein von Staubach speaks Thracian well, and although
the passport is made out for a German, we may find it desirable to
change our disguise after a time. May I beg of you, Fräulein, to
dress yourself to play the part of a nurse, and to see that the King is
warmly wrapped up? Will you also pack a small bag with necessaries
for her Majesty, and another for yourself. They must not be too large
to be carried conveniently in the hand, for we have to cross the park
on foot before we can reach the vehicle which is awaiting us. And
pray waste no time. Every minute is precious.”
The three ladies disappeared promptly, and Cyril stood waiting
for what seemed to him to be hours. He curbed his impatience, and
whiled away the time by making one or two final arrangements with
M. Stefanovics; but they had both relapsed into an uneasy silence
before Baroness von Hilfenstein entered the room, and beckoned
Cyril out of earshot of the chamberlain.
“You think success is possible in this enterprise of yours,
Count?”
“Certainly possible, Baroness; and possibly certain.”
“I did not come to ask you to play upon words,” very severely.
 “I ask your pardon, Baroness. The danger has excited me. I
think I must be fey.”
“I do not know that word, my dear Count.”
“It only means that some one is walking over my grave,
Baroness.”
“Do not speak in that way,” said the old lady, looking at him with
alarm not unmixed with tenderness. “Count, I cannot forget to-night
that you are a young man, although it has never struck me before.
Can I depend upon you to take such care of the Queen as I myself
should take were I with you?”
“I promise you, Baroness, that I will take as much care of the
Queen as she will allow me.”
“She will prove somewhat trying, I do not doubt. But you have
mastered her to-night, and that may change her manner towards
you. I cannot tell—I am afraid——”
“Are you afraid of her Majesty or of me, Baroness?”
The sudden question recalled the Baroness to her duty. “I am
not afraid of either of you; but I am very much afraid of
circumstances,” she replied, looking straight at Cyril.
“I have always aimed at moulding circumstances, Baroness, and
not at allowing them to mould me.”
“That is very well, but circumstances are sometimes too strong
—— But guard well the proprieties, my dear Count. Maintain the
niceties of etiquette with even unusual care, for they will form a
barrier to protect the Queen from her unfortunate surroundings. You
will promise me this?”
“Anything in reason, Baroness. I will do my best, certainly. But,”
changing the subject with some impatience, “may I remind you that
our escape will largely depend upon you? Of course it is impossible
to defend this house; but the longer you can keep the conspirators
in talk before they discover the Queen’s absence, the better for us.”
“You are right. I will meet them and argue with them, refuse to
allow them to proceed, and retreat only inch by inch before threats
of violence. And then, Count, I will try another expedient. When they
insist on seeing the Queen, my daughter shall personate her
Majesty. They are about the same height, and through the crape veil
it will be impossible to detect the difference.”
“It is an excellent idea, Baroness, if Baroness Paula has the
nerve to carry it out. But what about the King?”
“We will dress up a pillow in his clothes, and Mrs Jones shall
carry it. If we are hurried away to the Bishop’s palace at once, they
will not detect the trick until the morning, which will—— Oh, is that
you, Mrs Jones?”
“Yes, ma’am, it is; and hearin’ no good of myself, as they say no
eavesdroppers don’t. I think I see myself carryin’ about a pillow
dressed up in his Majesty’s clothes, and the precious lamb himself
left to that there Frawline!”
“Mrs Jones, we cannot take you with us.” Cyril spoke sharply,
noting that Mrs Jones was ready equipped for the journey. “You
would be recognised anywhere,” for tales of the magnificence of
demeanour of the King’s nurse, and her unbending deportment
towards the natives of her land of exile, circulated wherever the
Court moved, “and that would ruin the whole scheme. You must stay
here, and obey the orders of the Baroness, and so help us to save
the King.”
“Thank you, my lord; and what if I declines to stay here?”
“Then you will have the responsibility of destroying the King’s
only chance of escape. We are in your hands, Mrs Jones. If you will
stay behind, it will help to gain time for us to get beyond the reach
of pursuit; but you may as well go and inform the conspirators at
once that we are trying to escape as insist on coming with us. Which
is it to be?”
“My lord, if me stayin’ here can help the King and your lordship
to escape, I’ll stay here till Doomsday, and no one shan’t drag me
from the house, not if wild horses was to try it. I thank you, my lord,
for talkin’ to me like a reasonable Christian woman, and here I stays,
and no thanks to no one else, neither!”
And Mrs Jones retired with added dignity, just as the Queen
entered the room, looking absurdly young and girlish in her grey
tweed dress and simple hat, and followed by Fräulein von Staubach,
with the little King, well wrapped up, fast asleep in her arms.
 “One moment before we start, madame,” said Cyril. “From this
time forward you are an English lady, Mrs Weston, and I am your
brother, Arthur Cleeves. Your Christian name is Lilian. The King is
your son Tommy, Fräulein von Staubach is his German nurse Julie,
and my clerk Paschics, who is waiting for us on the other side of the
park, is Carlo, an Italian courier. We are travelling by road, and our
carriage has broken down, which makes it necessary for us to hire a
country cart to convey us to the next posting-station. Let me
impress upon you the necessity of speaking nothing but English, and
of keeping to our assumed names, even when no strangers are
present, for the sake of practice. I think you had better give me the
child, Fr—Julie, and I will take my sister’s bag, if you can manage
your own. Now we had better start—Lilian.”
The Queen gave Baroness von Hilfenstein a half-tearful, half-
smiling glance, for the old lady’s face was a study when she heard
Cyril’s words, and it was with difficulty that she restrained herself
from insisting, even at this late hour, on the abandonment of the
scheme. “Take care of her Majesty,” she whispered anxiously to
Fräulein von Staubach, holding her back from descending the stairs
after the other two; “remind her constantly of her position. Maintain
all the restraints possible, and remember that if anything happens, I
shall never forgive you or myself.”
Very much flurried, and totally unable to comprehend the full
force of the warning, Fräulein von Staubach nevertheless promised
faithfully to observe it, and hurried down the steps after her
mistress, who had reached the door at the foot of the staircase.
Here the fugitives stood for a moment in the shadow, listening to the
beating of their own hearts, while M. Stefanovics, emerging from the
doorway, joined the sentry in his walk, and accompanied him to the
end of the terrace, where he directed his attention to an imaginary
glare in the sky over the city, which he suggested was due to a
street-fire. While the sentry, deeply interested (for he knew
something of the plot, and was watching for any sign of its being
carried out), was doing his best to see the remarkably faint and fitful
glow pointed out to him, Cyril directed the Queen and Fräulein von
Staubach to cross the terrace as quietly as possible, and conceal
themselves among the shrubs on the farther side. The next moment
he followed them; but the interval had been long enough to allow a
fear to seize him which covered his brow with cold sweat. What if
the conspirators were already in hiding among those very bushes?
But no one appeared, and no movement was made, and he led the
way through the gardens, walking on the grass wherever he could
so as to avoid making any sound, and then through a wicket-gate
into the park. Here their progress was much more satisfactory, for
they were quite out of sight from the house, and could walk rapidly
over the turf, although it required some care to avoid coming into
unpleasantly close and sudden contact with the trees. But when the
more open ground was left behind, and it was necessary to plunge
into a thick wood, the ladies found their difficulties greatly increased,
and the more so that Cyril, encumbered as he was with the sleeping
child and the Queen’s bag, could do little to aid them. They made no
complaint, and toiled on bravely through briers and wet bushes,
which had a perverse way of springing back and striking the unwary
traveller on the face; but it was no small relief to Cyril when they
reached the boundary of the estate, and a whistle from him brought
up Paschics to relieve him temporarily of the burden of the little
King, and to help the ladies over the fence. They descended the
steep bank to the road, where the Queen stopped suddenly, aghast
at the sight of the vehicle awaiting them, and then laughed until the
tears came into her eyes. It was the usual light wooden cart of the
more advanced among the farmers, without springs or tilt, and
provided with a board by way of driving-seat. The floor was covered
thickly with straw, and there were several rugs stowed away in the
front, while the two rough, stout little horses had had their bells
carefully removed.
“Come, Lilian, let me help you up,” said Cyril briskly, handing the
little King to Fräulein von Staubach, and mounting into the cart. “I
can make you and Tommy a most comfortable nest in the straw, and
there is a rug for Julie as well. Give me your hand, and Carlo will
show you where to put your foot.”
The Queen, with the tears still in her eyes, allowed herself to be
helped in, and sat silent as Cyril lifted the child and laid him in her
arms; but when Fräulein von Staubach had been established beside
her, and Paschics had produced a piece of tarpaulin, which he
fastened to the sides of the cart so as to shelter the inmates, she
put out her hand suddenly and laid it on Cyril’s.
“Don’t think I am ungrateful,” she said; “it is all so strange. I
feel as if I were in a dream. But I will do all I can to avoid being a
trouble to you.”
 CHAPTER XI.
WAYFARING.

When in after-days Cyril looked back to the events of that night, they
seemed to him like the course of a bad dream. The first part of the
journey was easy enough, for the road was good, and he occupied
the driving-seat with Paschics, exchanging a word with him
occasionally, and keeping him supplied with cigars, for the Queen
had entreated them to smoke. But when some ten English miles had
been covered without interruption, it became necessary to leave the
road for an old and almost disused cart-track, leading through rough
and hilly country. By this means the first three posting-stations on
the road would be missed altogether, a step which was imperative
unless the fugitives were simply to be traced from point to point
along their way; but time was so precious that Cyril would have
been inclined to try whether it was impossible to slip past them
unnoticed, if it had not been that the hill-track, though rough, was
far shorter than the post-road. There was no more easy driving now.
Cyril and Paschics spent the greater part of the night in walking up
and down interminable hills, sometimes dragging the horses on,
sometimes holding them back, and varying these occupations by
pushing at the cart behind, or lifting the wheels out of pits of mud.
The two women and the child were so completely tired out that they
were scarcely awakened even by the most tremendous jolts, and
descents which would have appeared impossible in daylight were
attempted confidently by the light of the lantern which Paschics
carried, and which was constantly in request for the purpose of
consulting the map or the compass. At length the worst and longest
hill, having been successfully passed, proved to be the last one, and
the two men and the worn-out horses stumbled painfully into the
highroad. Looking at one another, in the grey light of the March
morning, Cyril and Paschics became aware that they both presented
a very disreputable appearance, and the short interval which was
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