Atlas Nightshade

Day 9

_28 May._--There is a chance of escape, or at any rate of being able to

send word home. A band of Szgany have come to the castle, and are

encamped in the courtyard. These Szgany are gipsies; I have notes of

them in my book. They are peculiar to this part of the world, though

allied to the ordinary gipsies all the world over. There are thousands

of them in Hungary and Transylvania, who are almost outside all law.

They attach themselves as a rule to some great noble or _boyar_, and

call themselves by his name. They are fearless and without religion,

save superstition, and they talk only their own varieties of the Romany

tongue.

I shall write some letters home, and shall try to get them to have them

posted. I have already spoken them through my window to begin

acquaintanceship. They took their hats off and made obeisance and many

signs, which, however, I could not understand any more than I could

their spoken language....

* * * * *

I have written the letters. Mina's is in shorthand, and I simply ask Mr.

Hawkins to communicate with her. To her I have explained my situation,

but without the horrors which I may only surmise. It would shock and

frighten her to death were I to expose my heart to her. Should the

letters not carry, then the Count shall not yet know my secret or the

extent of my knowledge....

* * * * *

I have given the letters; I threw them through the bars of my window

with a gold piece, and made what signs I could to have them posted. The

man who took them pressed them to his heart and bowed, and then put them

in his cap. I could do no more. I stole back to the study, and began to

read. As the Count did not come in, I have written here....

* * * * *

The Count has come. He sat down beside me, and said in his smoothest

voice as he opened two letters:--

"The Szgany has given me these, of which, though I know not whence they

come, I shall, of course, take care. See!"--he must have looked at

it--"one is from you, and to my friend Peter Hawkins; the other"--here

he caught sight of the strange symbols as he opened the envelope, and

the dark look came into his face, and his eyes blazed wickedly--"the

other is a vile thing, an outrage upon friendship and hospitality! It is

not signed. Well! so it cannot matter to us." And he calmly held letter

and envelope in the flame of the lamp till they were consumed. Then he

went on:--

"The letter to Hawkins--that I shall, of course, send on, since it is

yours. Your letters are sacred to me. Your pardon, my friend, that

unknowingly I did break the seal. Will you not cover it again?" He held

out the letter to me, and with a courteous bow handed me a clean

envelope. I could only redirect it and hand it to him in silence. When

he went out of the room I could hear the key turn softly. A minute later

I went over and tried it, and the door was locked.

When, an hour or two after, the Count came quietly into the room, his

coming awakened me, for I had gone to sleep on the sofa. He was very

courteous and very cheery in his manner, and seeing that I had been

sleeping, he said:--

"So, my friend, you are tired? Get to bed. There is the surest rest. I

may not have the pleasure to talk to-night, since there are many labours

to me; but you will sleep, I pray." I passed to my room and went to bed,

and, strange to say, slept without dreaming. Despair has its own calms.

* * * * *

_31 May._--This morning when I woke I thought I would provide myself

with some paper and envelopes from my bag and keep them in my pocket, so

that I might write in case I should get an opportunity, but again a

surprise, again a shock!

Every scrap of paper was gone, and with it all my notes, my memoranda,

relating to railways and travel, my letter of credit, in fact all that

might be useful to me were I once outside the castle. I sat and pondered

awhile, and then some thought occurred to me, and I made search of my

portmanteau and in the wardrobe where I had placed my clothes.

The suit in which I had travelled was gone, and also my overcoat and

rug; I could find no trace of them anywhere. This looked like some new

scheme of villainy....

* * * * *

_17 June._--This morning, as I was sitting on the edge of my bed

cudgelling my brains, I heard without a cracking of whips and pounding

and scraping of horses' feet up the rocky path beyond the courtyard.

With joy I hurried to the window, and saw drive into the yard two great

leiter-wagons, each drawn by eight sturdy horses, and at the head of

each pair a Slovak, with his wide hat, great nail-studded belt, dirty

sheepskin, and high boots. They had also their long staves in hand. I

ran to the door, intending to descend and try and join them through the

main hall, as I thought that way might be opened for them. Again a

shock: my door was fastened on the outside.

Then I ran to the window and cried to them. They looked up at me

stupidly and pointed, but just then the "hetman" of the Szgany came out,

and seeing them pointing to my window, said something, at which they

laughed. Henceforth no effort of mine, no piteous cry or agonised

entreaty, would make them even look at me. They resolutely turned away.

The leiter-wagons contained great, square boxes, with handles of thick

rope; these were evidently empty by the ease with which the Slovaks

handled them, and by their resonance as they were roughly moved. When

they were all unloaded and packed in a great heap in one corner of the

yard, the Slovaks were given some money by the Szgany, and spitting on

it for luck, lazily went each to his horse's head. Shortly afterwards, I

heard the cracking of their whips die away in the distance.

* * * * *

_24 June, before morning._--Last night the Count left me early, and

locked himself into his own room. As soon as I dared I ran up the

winding stair, and looked out of the window, which opened south. I

thought I would watch for the Count, for there is something going on.

The Szgany are quartered somewhere in the castle and are doing work of

some kind. I know it, for now and then I hear a far-away muffled sound

as of mattock and spade, and, whatever it is, it must be the end of some

ruthless villainy.

I had been at the window somewhat less than half an hour, when I saw

something coming out of the Count's window. I drew back and watched

carefully, and saw the whole man emerge. It was a new shock to me to

find that he had on the suit of clothes which I had worn whilst

travelling here, and slung over his shoulder the terrible bag which I

had seen the women take away. There could be no doubt as to his quest,

and in my garb, too! This, then, is his new scheme of evil: that he will

allow others to see me, as they think, so that he may both leave

evidence that I have been seen in the towns or villages posting my own

letters, and that any wickedness which he may do shall by the local

people be attributed to me.

It makes me rage to think that this can go on, and whilst I am shut up

here, a veritable prisoner, but without that protection of the law which

is even a criminal's right and consolation.

I thought I would watch for the Count's return, and for a long time sat

doggedly at the window. Then I began to notice that there were some

quaint little specks floating in the rays of the moonlight. They were

like the tiniest grains of dust, and they whirled round and gathered in

clusters in a nebulous sort of way. I watched them with a sense of

soothing, and a sort of calm stole over me. I leaned back in the

embrasure in a more comfortable position, so that I could enjoy more

fully the aërial gambolling.