"Sót? Isn't that rather near the frontier?"
"Thirty kilometres."
"But why Sót?"
"We have commandeered a château there, which we use as a prison for political offenders. We chose it because it stands alone in an out-of-the-way part of the country, and it saves the nuisance of public manifestations and disturbances when a prisoner who happens to have been popular is condemned. We try them by a military tribunal which holds it sittings at Sót, and if an execution is imperative—well, it is done without any fuss."
"I see. Well," Number Ten went on, as he rose to take his leave, "I need not detain you any longer. Let me assure you," he concluded, with his habitual sardonic smile, "that I shall not now think of interfering with any of the measures which you have adopted to stop Lady Tarkington from running after her manuscript."
"I don't believe that you could have interfered in any case," Naniescu retorted gruffly.
"It is not too late, my friend. I would rather like to pit my wits against yours. So if you have repented of the bargain—" And Number Ten half drew his bulging pocket-book out of his pocket.
"Oh, go to the devil!" Naniescu exclaimed, half in rage and half in laughter.
"And I hope soon to meet you in his company," Number Ten replied, and he finally took his leave from the two men.
As soon as the door had closed on him, Naniescu turned and looked at his friend. But de Kervoisin had picked up his book, and gave him no encouragement to discuss the intriguing personality of Number Ten.
His face, too, was quite inscrutable. Marcel Proust was engaging his full attention. For a moment it seemed as if Naniescu would fall back on his stock phrase, or else on a string of cosmopolitan oaths; he even drew his breath ready for either; then it seemed as if words failed him.
The intriguing personality was above comment.
CHAPTER XXXVIII
Rosemary had never before welcomed her husband so eagerly as she did that afternoon. As soon as she heard the whirring of his motor she ran to the gates to meet him.
"What news?" she cried when he had brought the car to a standstill.
As usual, his dark eyes flashed with joy when he saw her. He jumped down and raised both her hands to his lips.
"Very vague, I am afraid," he replied. "And some of it a mere conjecture."
"Tell me."
"To begin with, young Imrey and Anna Heves have been transferred to Sót."
"Where is that?"
"Between Cluj and the frontier. It seems that there is a château there that is being used as a prison for political offenders."
"Who told you that?"
"Naniescu. I saw him for a moment. He was very busily engaged with the Minister for Home Affairs who was over from Bucharest, so he could only give me a few minutes."
"Had he seen Elza?"
"No. But she had applied for permission to see Philip and Anna, and he gave the permission. He supposed that she had gone on to Sót by train."
"Even so," Rosemary mused, "she would be back by now, or else she would have wired."
Jasper appeared to hesitate for a moment or two, and then he said: "I don't think that she has been allowed to do either."
"Why not?"
"It is mere surmise, my dear," Jasper went on quietly, "but one thing Naniescu did tell me and that was that he had on behalf of his government definitely made over the Kis-Imre estates to Peter Blakeney."
They were walking round the house towards the veranda when he said this. Rosemary made no response; indeed, it might be thought that she had not heard, for the next question which she put to Jasper appeared irrelevant."
"Does the midnight express stop at Sót?"
"It does," Jasper replied.
"Then, I can see Elza there. I am sure that is where she is. You inquired at Ujlak?"
"Yes, Elza went there first and then to Cluj."
They had reached the veranda now, and Rosemary went up the steps and then into the house.
"You still wish to come with me to-night?" she asked her husband before she went upstairs.
"Why, of course."
"You are not too tired after all this running about?"
"I?" he exclaimed with a laugh. "Tired? When it is a question of being near you!"
He tried to capture her wrist, but she evaded him and ran quickly through the hall and up the stairs. Before going into her room she called down to him:
"If we use your motor we need not start before eleven o'clock, and there is still a chance of Elza being home before then."
It was just before dinner that the culminating tragedy occurred. Rosemary was in her room, when she heard loud commotion coming form the hall—harsh, peremptory voices, a word or two from Anton, and then Jasper's voice raised as if in protest. She opened her door, and to her horror saw a squad of soldiers in the hall, and between them an officer, and a man in civilian clothes who had an official-looking paper in his hand, and was apparently explaining something to Jasper.
"I regret, my lord, but these are my orders," the man was saying, "and I cannot enter into any discussion with you."
Jasper tried to protest again. "But surely—" he began. The man, however, cut him short.
"If you like," he said, "I can allow you to see Count Imrey first, but this order I must deliver into his own hands."
Rosemary in the meanwhile had run downstairs.
"What is it, Jasper?" she asked quickly.
"An order of eviction," Jasper replied curtly, "against that wretched Maurus."
"Whatever does that mean?"
"That he must quit this place within twenty-four hours."
"Impossible!" she exclaimed hotly.
She turned to the officer and the civilian who had brought this monstrous order.
"The whole thing is a mistake," she said coolly; "some error in the name. Count Imrey is a loyal subject of the King. There has never been a hint of disloyalty levelled against him."
The officer in charge gave a curt laugh and shrugged his shoulders, and the civilian said with a sneer:
"They all say that, milady. They are all wonderfully loyal after they have been found out."
"But General Naniescu himself is a friend of the family. And Lord Tarkington and I can vouch—"
"Pardon, milady," the civilian broke in coldly. "This affair does not concern you or Lord Tarkington, and the order of eviction is signed on behalf of the present owner of Kis-Imre by His Excellency the Governor himself."
"On behalf—"
It was Rosemary who spoke, but the sound of her voice might have come out of a grave. She had never been so near to swooning in her life. The walls around her, the woodwork, the stairs, all took on distorted shapes, and moved, round and round and up and down, until everything was a blur through which the faces of the Roumanian officer and the civilian stared at her and grinned. "On behalf of the present owner of Kis-Imre!" But that was Peter! Peter! And the world did not totter, the earth did not quake, and engulf all these monstrous crimes, this cruelty and this shame!
Luckily none of the Roumanians appeared to have noticed this sudden weakness in her; the civilian was consulting with the officer whether he should allow milord Tarkington to break the awful news to Maurus. Neither raised any objection, and Jasper pronounced himself ready to go. Rosemary turned appealingly to him:
"You will be very patient, Jasper," she begged, "and very, very gentle?"
"Leave it to me, dear," he responded; "I'll do my best."
When he was gone, Rosemary mechanically asked the officer and his companion to come into the smoking-room and sit down. She offered cigarettes. They made her ceremonious bows, and were as polite and conventional as circumstances demanded. She tried to talk; she even asked questions; but they were diplomatically ignorant of everything except of their duty. They explained that this consisted in seeing Count Imrey personally, and giving the eviction order into his own hands.