The Waylaid Count (14)

 14

The next day, I concerned myself for a little with the ordinary business of the office. Then, I went to Deck 18 to watch the comings and goings of General Ribereus with a kindly interest. I perceived, what my father had failed to perceive, that the General had assumed an attitude of reserve merely to hide the secret distraction and dismay which consumed him. I saw that the poor fellow had no settled plan in his head, and that he was troubled by something which, so far, he had confided to nobody. In the course of my observations, I noticed he walked to and fro through Quasar Park on Deck 8 alone and apparently with no object. I decided that walking in the park would be good for my health. Near one of the bridges I met the General.

“Good morning, General,” I greeted him. “Are you mistaking this for the Emperor’s Promenade?”

He bowed and smiled.

“I usually walk here in the mornings,” he said.

“You surprise me,” I returned. “I thought I was the only person on this ship who preferred Quasar Park with all its lovely greenery to the dustiness of the metallic Emperor’s Promenade. I can’t imagine how it is that most of our guests will never take exercise anywhere except on that ridiculous Promenade.”

“I think Quasar Park is the finest spot on the entire ship,” he said.

I leaned toward him, bringing my face nearer to his.

“I do believe we are kindred spirits, you and I,” I murmured, and then I stepped back and said cheerfully, “Au revoir, General!”

“One moment, Major Thomatian,” he entreated me quickly.

“I am in a hurry,” I fibbed. “I am not merely taking exercise this morning. You have no idea how busy we are.”

“Ah! then I will not trouble you. But I leave the Ritzavoy XI tonight.”

“Do you?” I said. “Then will you do me the honor of lunching with me today in the Exosphere? Father has travelled to Majriti today to meet with some stockbrokers before we shove off tomorrow evening.”

“I shall be charmed,” said the General, and his face made me know he meant it.

With that, I left him.

* * * * * *

At lunch, the General said little beyond what the ordinary rules of the conversational game demanded. I talked much and talked well, but I failed to rouse my guest. When we had had coffee, he took a rather formal leave of me.

“Good-bye, Prince,” I said, “but I thought—"

“You thought I wished to discuss something with you,” he said. “I did, but I have decided that I have no right to burden your mind with my affairs.”

“But suppose—suppose I wish to be burdened?”

“That is your good nature.”

“Sit down,” I said abruptly, “and tell me everything—mind, everything. I adore secrets.”

Suddenly, he was talking to me, rapidly and eagerly.

“Why should I weary you with my confidences?” he asked. “I don’t know, but I feel that I must tell you. I feel that you will understand me better than anyone else in the world. And yet why should you understand me? Again, I don’t know. 

“Major Thomatian, I will disclose to you the whole: Count Yougen, the hereditary Grand Duke of South Quaros, has disappeared. Four days ago, I was to have met him at Ventstot. He had affairs there. He wished me to come with him. I sent Lodimmick onboard before me, and waited for Yougen there. He did not arrive. I telegraphed back to St. Ngebrodi, his last stopping-place, and I learned that he had left there in accordance with his original plans. I learned also that he had passed through East Moumalt. It must have been between East Moumalt and the station at Ventstot that he disappeared. He was travelling with a single servant, and the servant, too, has vanished. 

“I need not explain to you, Major Thomatian, that when a person of importance like my nephew contrives to get lost, one must proceed cautiously. One cannot advertise for him in the news. Such a disappearance must be kept secret. The people at South Quaros and at St. Ngebrodi believe that Yougen is in Ventstot or here on this cruiseshuttle. I also believed this until this morning when I received a cypher message from—from the Emperor. It was very peculiar message, asking when Yougen might be expected to return, and requesting that he should go meet with him before boarding. That message was addressed to myself. I have hesitated for three days, but I can hesitate no longer. I must myself go to the Emperor and acquaint him with the facts.”

I suppose you’ve just got to keep straight with him? I thought, but I checked myself and substituted, “The Emperor is our ruler? ‘First among equals,’ I believe is how the motto goes.”

“That is correct,” said Ribereus quietly.

“Why not take immediate steps to discover the whereabouts of your nephew?” I asked simply. The affair seemed to me to be so plain and straightforward.

“Because one of two things may have happened. Either Yougen may have been, to speak plainly, abducted, or he may have had his own reasons for changing his plans and keeping hidden—out of reach of any communication.”

“What sort of reasons?”

“Do not ask me. In the history of every family there are certain skeletons—” He stopped.

“What was Count Yougen’s object in coming here?”

Ribereus hesitated.

“Money,” he said at length. “As a family we are very poor—poorer than anyone in Majriti suspects.”

“General Ribereus,” I said, “should I tell you what I think?” I leaned back in my chair and looked at him out of half-closed eyes. His pale, thin, distinguished face held my gaze as if by some fascination.

“If you will,” he said.

“Count Yougen is the victim of a plot.”

“You think so?”

“I am perfectly convinced of it.”

“But why? What can be the object of a plot against him?”

“That you should know more about than me,” I remarked dryly.

“Ah! Perhaps, perhaps,” he said. “But, dear Major Thomatian, why are you so sure?”

“There are several reasons, and they are connected with Mr. Lodimmick. Did you ever suspect that young man was not entirely loyal to you?”

“He was absolutely loyal,” said the General, earnestly.

“A thousand pardons, but he was not.”

“Major Thomatian, if any other than yourself made that assertion, I would—I would—”

“Consign them to the deepest dungeon in South Quaros?” I laughed, lightly.

“Listen.” And here I told him of the incidents which had occurred on the night preceding his arrival.

“Do you mean, Major Thomatian, that there was an understanding between poor Lodimmick and this fellow Julbo?”

“There was an understanding. I am certain of it.”

“Impossible!”

“Your Highness, the man who wishes to probe a mystery to its root never uses the word ‘impossible.’ But I will say this for young Mr. Lodimmick. I think he repented, and I think that it was because he repented that he—er—died so suddenly, and that his body was spirited away.”

“Why has no one told me these things before?” Ribereus exclaimed.

“Generals seldom hear the truth,” I said, much to his astonishment.

“Major Thomatian,” he said, “if you will permit me to say it, I have never in my life met a woman like you. May I rely on your sympathy—your support?”

“My support, General? But how?”

“I do not know,” he replied. “But you could help me if you would. I have generally found that those women, like yourself, with a brain have more of a brain than most men.”

“Ah!” I said humbly, “I have no brains, but I do believe I could help you.”

What prompted me to make that assertion I could not explain, even to myself. But I made it, and I believed that it would be justified although how was still a mystery to me.

“Go to Ventstot,” I said. “You must do that; you have no alternative. As for the rest, we shall see. Something will occur. I will be here. My father will be here. You must count both of us as your friends.”

After he left, I sat there, sipping the last of my coffee. Were conspiracies actually possible nowadays? Did unusual things actually happen in Majriti? And did they actually happen on intergalatic cruiseshuttles? 

That evening, I dined with my father.

“I hear General Ribereus has left,” he said.

“Yes,” I assented. I said not a word about our interview.

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