I asked how on earth he’d known so much about my wounds, and received his superior grin. "You can’t get it into your head, can you? Bismarck has a genius for detail—why, I know as much about your battle scars as you do!" He reached suddenly to tousle my hair, curse him. "Got yourself scalped by Indians in the wild and woolly west, even! Oh, yes," says the insolent pup, "I’ve seen a dossier on you that I’ll bet contains things you’ve forgotten—perhaps never knew. You’ve been about, though—my stars, I hope I’ll see half as much by the end of the day." He shook his handsome head, and the admiring look of our first meeting was back again.
"The guv’nor was right—you’re the complete hand and no mistake. On that train, there you were, wonderin' what the dooce you’d fallen into, ensnared by a sinister adventuress, menaced by a bravo with a pistol—but did you cry havoc, or bluster, or vow to have the law on us? Well, once—and then mum as an oyster, figurin' chances, listenin' and bidin' your time. I didn’t trust you an inch, then; Kralta did, though, and she’s no fool, even if she is spoony about you. But it took that business of Gunther gettin' scragged at the casino to convince me—then I knew you must be with us!" He grinned, tongue in cheek. "And it ain’t for Franz-Josef or the good o' the peace, is it? It’s just for devilment!" He slapped his knee, merry as a maggot. "I like you, Harry, shot if I don’t! And we’ll have some fun together, just you wait and see!"
He sprang up and tossed his cigarette into the fireplace. "Now then, I’m goin' to take a scout about, get the lie of the land and find out who does what and goes where and when and why. Rub an acquaintance with the aides, if I can, and take a professional interest in this sergeant and his file of sentinels." This with a knowing wink. "You lie and rest your mangled pin, and when I come back we can discuss ways and means, eh?" He chewed his lip and tapped another gasper on his thumbnail, looking keen.
"D’ye know, I’ve a notion tonight is goin' to be the night! Can’t tell why—just an instinct. You ever feel that sort of thing?"
"When I was young and green—yes," growls I, to take the bounce out of him. "Sign of nerves, Starnberg. You just wish it was over and done with."
It didn’t deflate him a bit. "Nerves yourself !" scoffs he. "If you mean I’m lookin' forward to it, you’re right." I believed him, for I’d seen the same bright-eyed excitement at the prospect of slaughter in idiots like Brooke and Custer, and it’s the last thing you need when your own fears are gullet-high. "That reminds me," he went on, "time you were properly dressed." He drew the LeVaux from his pocket, spun it deftly, and presented the butt. "Five chambers loaded. I’ll give you the other rounds later. Shove it out o' sight for the moment."
Being armed was some comfort, but not much. Like his blasted instinct, it was just a reminder of how close the doom was coming, perhaps only a few short hours away. In the meantime, left to myself, I could only wait, fretting and resting my bogus injury on the sofa, while soft-footed orderlies came and clicked their heels and asked leave to arrange the room and see to the linen and mend the fire and stow away my effects, which must have been sent for to the Golden Ship (trust Willem), and bring me coffee, which I shared with two sprightly youths who were Franz-Josef’s aides, come to pay their respects to the wounded guest. I forget their names, but thought of them as Tweedledum and Tweedledee, one fair, one dark, but identical in gaiety, indiscretion, and breezy but deferential attention to me—Tweedledee knew of me by name and fame, and was athirst for reminiscences, but since Tweedledum’s interest was merely polite, and I’m an old hand at not being pumped, it was child’s play to steer the conversation elsewhere.
Thus I learned in short order that Ischl was a confounded bore, and that it was common gossip that the Emperor was only here because he’d hoped to achieve a reconciliation with Sissi, who was in one of her fits of avoiding Vienna, but had half-agreed to come to Ischl, only she hadn’t, more’s the pity, for squiring her on horseback would have been a welcome diversion. Never mind, they’d be back in Vienna on Sunday, thank God, and free of the tyranny of the Chief Equerry, who was a muff and a sneak, and of the ordeal of dining with the Emperor, and being used as errand-boys by his secretary, and why the old boy had to spend all day poring over papers when he was meant to be on holiday, beat them altogether. Kept him out of the way, of course, even at luncheon, which was a mercy, since his usual fare was boiled beef and beer at his desk; at least they were spared that. Here, though, my chum Starnberg was a splendid fellow, wasn’t he; just the chap to liven up a slow week. And so on, and so on; it would be a dull world if there were no subalterns in it. Quieter, mind you.
They went at last, with noisy jests and good wishes, and I was left to brood until an orderly brought luncheon on a tray—not boiled beef, as I recall, but I was too blue and shaky to make much of whatever it was. I’d barely finished when Willem returned, making a great show of closing the door silently, tiptoeing to sit on my sofa, and speaking in a whisper.
"It’s too good to be true! Harry, my boy, I can’t believe our luck! Why, it’ll be child’s play!" He rubbed his hands, chuckling. "I’ve found the outer door to the Emperor’s secret stairway, I’m almost certain! How’s that for intelligence work?" He lighted one of his eternal black cigarettes and puffed in triumph.
"I bumped into the sergeant of the guard, accidental-a-purpose. A waxed-moustached old turnip-head who’s so damned military he probably rides his wife by numbers—almost ruptured himself comin' to attention when I happened by. I played the condescendin' Junker, commended his turn-out, complimented him on being chosen for such important duty …" he waved his holder airily.
… you know the style. The old fool was so flattered he confessed the job was mostly ceremonial, mindin' the front door, salutin' the Emperor and so on. "`But you mount night sentries, surely?' says I. `One only, Herr Oberst,' says he. `Ah, patrolling, to be sure,' says I. `By no means, Herr Oberst, a fixed post at the sundial corner only.' `Why there? Can’t tell the time at night!' says I. Gad, I was genial! Harry—he didn’t know why! Said it was regulations, since God was a boy."
He was so full of himself he couldn’t be still, jumping up and pacing to and fro. "That was enough for me. I chatted a moment more, as is my wont, and strolled round by the sundial corner, as he called it. Sentry-box, sure enough—and a few yards farther on an embrasure in the ivy with an old locked door! The window of the Emperor’s bedchamber is about twenty feet beyond on the storey above. Well," cries he, "what d’ye think of that for scoutin'?"
Too good to be true, indeed—yet, why not? It fitted … if the secret stairway really existed, and I had respect enough for Bismarck’s spy bandobast[organisation (Hind.)] to be confident that it did.
"So now," cries Willem, "we know just where to watch!"
"If it is the secret door, and they come that way—"
"It is, and they will!" says he impatiently. "I’m sure of it. But we’ll run no risks." He pulled a chair beside the sofa, and sat close. "I’ve thought it all out, and I’m afraid," says he with a mock-rueful grin, "that you mayn’t like it, ’cos you’ll miss most o' the sport. Sorry, old chap."