Maurus Jokai - The Nameless Castle

The sick man began to laugh; only his face showed that he was laughing, no sound came from his parched throat. He was laughing because he had prevented his favorite from coming to his pestilential resting-place.

Marie deliberated a moment, then decided to resort to stratagem:

“If you will not let me come in to you, papa Cambray,” she called, simulating a petulant tone, “I shall go away, and not come back again. If you should want anything there will be a little boy here, outside; you can summon him by pressing that button. Good night, dear papa Cambray!”

The sick man turned his face toward the screen and listened in dreamy ecstasy to the sweet voice. He raised his hand, waved it weakly toward the speaker, then clasped it with the other on his breast, while his lips moved as if in prayer.

“Go fetch candles, and the tinder-box,” whispered Marie to the little Laczko. “Place them here by the sofa, then light the lamp in the corridor.”

“May I fetch my gun, too?” asked the boy.

“Your gun? What for?”

“I shouldn’t be afraid if I had it with me.”

“Then fetch it; but don’t come into the room with it, for I am dreadfully afraid of guns. Leave it just outside the door.”

It was quite dark when Laczko returned with the candles and a heavy double-barreled fowling-piece. He carefully placed the latter in the corner, then asked:

“Shall I light the candles now?”

“Certainly not. I don’t want the gentleman to know that I am here. Maybe he may want something, and open the screen. I am going to lie down on this sofa, and you are to stand close by the alcove and watch the gentleman. If he should lift the screen, and I have fallen asleep, you must waken me at once.”

Marie wrapped herself in her shawl, and lay down on the leather couch. Laczko took up his station as directed, close by the metal screen, through which he peered from time to time.

But there was no danger of Marie falling asleep. She could not even keep her eyes closed. Every few moments she would sit up and ask in a cautious whisper:

“What is he doing now?”

“He is tossing from side to side.”

This reply was repeated several times.

At last the answer came that the invalid was perfectly quiet, whereupon Marie decided not to inquire again for an hour.

Suddenly she heard the lad say, in a trembling voice:

“I am dreadfully frightened.”

“What of?” whispered Marie.

“The gentleman lies so still. He hasn’t stirred for a long time.”

“He is asleep, I dare say.”

“If he were sleeping his breast would rise and fall; but he is perfectly still.”

Marie rose, and hastened to the screen. The smoking wick in the night-lamp near Cambray’s head illumined his ghastly face. Marie had already seen one such pallid countenance—that of the old servant Henry when he lay dead on his bier.

She shuddered, and retreated with trembling limbs, drawing the lad with her.

“You may light the candle now,” she whispered; “then we will go back to Lisette.”

Laczko lighted the candle, then shouldered his gun, and preceded his young mistress down the staircase to the lower story.

They had almost reached the door of Lisette’s room when Marie, who had been peering sharply ahead, stopped abruptly, and exclaimed in a startled tone:

“There is a man!”

Even as she spoke a dark form stepped from a doorway into the corridor in front of them. Marie retreated several steps; but her little escort proved that he was made of sterner stuff. He placed himself valiantly in front of his young mistress, laid his gun against his cheek, and aiming directly for the stranger’s breast, said, in a brave tone:

“Halt, or I will shoot you.”

“That’s my brave lad,” commented the stranger. “But don’t shoot. It is I, your father.”

“Don’t come any nearer, I tell you!” responded the lad, threateningly.

“Why, I am not moving a muscle, lad; don’t be foolish.”

“What do you want here?” demanded Laczko. “I will not let you do any harm to my mistress.”

Here Marie, who had recovered from her alarm, came forward, and laid her hand over her small defender’s eyes.

“Take down your gun, Laczko,” she commanded. Then turning to the stranger asked: “What do you want, my good man?”

For answer the man merely pronounced a name:

“Sophie Botta.”

Without an instant’s hesitation, and although she shuddered involuntarily when her eyes fell on the stranger’s repulsive countenance, the young girl went close to his side, and said calmly:

“What do you wish me to do?”

Satan Laczi held the thumb-ring toward her, and said:

“The person who wears this sent me to fetch you away from here. Are you ready to come with me at once?”

“I am,” replied Marie, who seemed unable to remove her eyes from the hideously ugly face before her.

“My master,” continued the ex-robber, “also bade me fetch a little steel casket. Do you know where it is hidden?”

“The person who had it in her care has already taken it to your master,” was Marie’s response.

“Ah, she has taken it to him?” repeated Satan Laczi. “Then it is all right. I know now what I have to do. My master bade me convey you to a place of concealment; but my face is not exactly the sort to win anybody’s confidence. Besides, I know some one who can perform this errand as well as I. The way to Raab is clear. Instead of taking you there myself, my wife will go with you. I think you would rather have her for a companion?”

“Yes, I think I would rather go with a woman,” diplomatically assented Marie.

“As an additional protection, take this little lad with you.” Here the ex-robber laid his hand on his son’s shoulder, and looked proudly down on him. “His heart is already in the right place. And then he is not a wicked rascal like his father.”

He was silent a moment, then added: “But I intend to reform. When my master has spoken with the woman to whom he intrusted his treasures, and if she has not betrayed him, then I know where he will be tomorrow. And Satan Laczi will be there, too! Then I and my comrades will show them what we can do. But come, we must make haste, and get on as far as possible while the moon is shining.”

“But I am not properly clad for a journey,” interposed Marie.

“My wife brought a nice warm bunda to wrap you in; it is in the carriage out yonder,” returned the ex-robber.

“One word first: you are acquainted with the man who made the metal screen in my apartments. Could you see him?”

“He is in Count Vavel’s service, and I can see him when I return to the camp.”

“Then tell him to come to the Nameless Castle at once. He understands the secret spring of the screen, behind which he will find a dead man. This man was a very good friend, and I want him properly buried.”

“I will give Master Matyas your order.”

Marie now took leave of the Nameless Castle, feeling that she would never again come back to it. But she had not the courage to enter her apartments again.

The four-horse coach waited at the park gate. Marie entered it, wrapped the warm sheep-skin around her, and tied a cotton kerchief over her head in peasant fashion. Satan Laczi’s wife took a seat by her side; the little Laczko climbed to the coachman’s box, where he sat with his gun between his knees. Then the coachman cracked his whip, and the vehicle rattled down the road amid a cloud of dust. Satan Laczi looked after the coach until it disappeared around a turn in the road. Then he blew a shrill blast on his whistle, whereupon a number of wild-looking men, each armed to the teeth, emerged from the shrubbery and came toward him. Whispered orders were given, then the men in a body moved toward the willow-copse on the shore of the lake. Here were two flatboats drawn up on the beach. These were pushed into the water; the men entered them, each took an oar, and the unwieldy vessels were propelled along the shore toward the marshes.