Chapter V: The Jewel-Case

When Zoe came to herself, the first sensation of which she was conscious was a stinging taste in her mouth, the next the dark woods cutting the sky opposite her. She cried out weakly, and closed her eyes to shut out the sight.

“That’s right!” said a voice. “How do you feel?”

“All smashed up,” she murmured feebly.

“Nonsense! Stretch out your arms!” The tone was so peremptory that she obeyed mechanically. “Now your feet,” and she gave two spasmodic kicks. “You’re all right,” said the voice, which was gradually becoming familiar. “A little more brandy?”

“Oh, no!” said Zoe in disgust, wriggling away from the offered flask, and discovering that her head was supported on Wylie’s arm. “I’m quite well now. Did I faint? Where’s Maurice? Oh!” as recollection rushed upon her, “is Maurice safe?”

“He’s all right, helping to dig out your sister. We could hear her voice, and I left him to get her out, while I brought you up here. Now I am going to get you something for a pillow, and then I shall leave you.”

Raising herself with difficulty on her elbow, Zoe found that she was lying on a steep bank of stones and rubble, sparsely covered with grass. Below her was the wrecked train, lying on its side on the slope. Men were standing on the sides of the carriages and dragging others through the holes where the windows had been, or thrusting aside distorted pieces of iron and masses of splintered wood. Some of the rescued were sitting on the slope bemoaning themselves, or stanching wounds in head or hands with their handkerchiefs; others were being carried towards a tree at one side, under which a man in his shirt-sleeves was bending over a woman lying on the ground. Thus much Zoe was able to see before Wylie ran up the bank again with a small box, which had been thrown aside out of the way of the rescuers, in his hand.

“I’ll put this under your head,” he said hastily, “and with that big stone at your feet you won’t slip down the bank. Just shut your eyes and lie quiet, and the shock will soon pass off.”

“Can’t I come down and help?” asked Zoe.

“No, no. Keep out of the way, that’s the best thing you can do. I’ll call you when we get your sister out.”

Zoe disobeyed him only so far as to watch the men at work on the train until she had distinguished Maurice, and then lay down, unable to repress a hysterical little laugh at the thought of Wylie’s sending him to the rescue of a stranger while she was left to the care of others. It was not long before she heard herself summoned.

“Miss Smith, we are taking your sister to the doctor. She is hurt, but I hope not badly. You would like to come?”

Rising unsteadily to her feet, she was glad to accept the aid of Wylie’s hand down the slope. Eirene was half unconscious, and moaned when she was touched, and Maurice and Wylie carried her to the improvised field-hospital, where a French surgeon, who had fortunately been among the passengers, was giving such aid as he could to the injured. One or two ladies who had escaped unhurt were tearing up their dust-cloaks for temporary bandages, and behind the tree at the back lay several quiet forms, reverently covered with rugs and macintoshes hastily collected. Zoe shivered at the sight, but the doctor had no time to waste. Discovering that Eirene’s most serious injury was a dislocated shoulder, he reduced the dislocation by rough and ready means, and bound her arm tightly into place, then told Zoe to take her away, since cuts and contusions must await a more opportune moment for treatment. Maurice came forward to help her, and whispered to the doctor, who nodded vigorously.

“By all means get her to bed as soon as possible. An emotional temperament--I have observed it myself--fever very likely to supervene. I will see that she goes with the first batch of wounded.”

But as Maurice and Wylie laid her gently on the slope, Eirene struggled into a sitting position. “My jewel-case!” she screamed. “My jewel-case! where is it?”

“It must be in the carriage still,” said Maurice. “We shall come upon it.”

“Bring it to me!” she cried angrily. “I must have it.”

“It will be found,” said Zoe soothingly, “but no one has seen it yet. Don’t worry yourself, Eirene; it will be all right.” Her tone had grown a little impatient, for she had gathered from Maurice’s whisper to the doctor that Mrs Smith was among the killed, and Eirene had not even asked after her.

“It is lost, stolen!” cried Eirene. “I threw it out of the window when the train began to turn over. Offer a reward, quickly--a million francs, anything!”

“Your wealth must be greater than your prudence, mademoiselle, or you would hardly carry such valuables about with you,” remarked the doctor drily. Like every one else in her immediate vicinity, he had been attracted by Eirene’s shriek.

“They are all I have in the world. My jewels are everything to me,” she cried wildly. “I will not leave this place without them. I will search the line on my hands and knees. It is marked ‘E. E. Smith’--a small box covered with leather, with brass ornaments. Has no one seen it?”

Zoe gave a gasp, and seized Maurice’s arm, pointing to the box as it lay neglected high up the slope. The next moment he had fetched it down, and between tears and laughter she restored it to its owner.

“Oh, Eirene, I am so sorry! Captain Wylie brought it me for a pillow, and I hadn’t an idea what it was. But when you mentioned brass ornaments, I remembered how uncomfortable the handle was. Now it’s all right, isn’t it?”

Eirene lay down, almost fainting, but gripping the box, while the bystanders dispersed, whispering and muttering, and much disappointed with this tame conclusion. Communication had now been established with the nearest station--a mere hill-hamlet, compared with which the village where the Roumi soldiers were to be quartered was a town--and presently a trolley came down the line with an official and several workmen. They brought the news that help had been telegraphed for from the larger station, but that it was not likely to amount to more than an engine and open trucks, which might not arrive that night. It was, therefore, for the passengers to choose whether they would remain where they were, or walk back to the small station in company with the men in charge of the trolley. The purpose which this was intended to serve was quickly evident, for several heavy cases were extracted with great difficulty from a locked van, which had been specially guarded since the accident, and piled upon it. The doctor obtained leave for Eirene and three other passengers, whose injuries were not so severe as to prevent their sitting up, to use the chests as seats, and they were lifted to their places as gently as possible, Eirene gripping the jewel-case fast in her uninjured hand. The passengers who chose to walk were asked to keep close to the trolley, so as to form a guard, headed by the two armed officials who were in charge of the treasure. Owing to the prohibition of the import of arms, Wylie had sent his regulation weapons by sea, and though both he and Maurice had brought sporting guns (which it had cost them much time and trouble to get through the customs), these could not yet be extricated from the confused heap of luggage in the train. Wylie had a miniature revolver, from which a long experience of danger had taught him never to separate himself, and he showed it reassuringly to Zoe as they set out, lighted in the gathering twilight by the fires kindled on the banks for the passengers who chose to remain by the train.

“Why, what is there to be afraid of?” she asked him. “Wolves?”

“Possibly; but I didn’t mean to frighten you, only to calm your fears if you had any.”

“Wylie doesn’t follow the bewildering changes of your mind,” said Maurice, who was carrying Zoe’s dressing-bag, the only thing they had been able to bring. “You professed to be afraid of the forest when you were perfectly safe in the train, but now you seem to think it rather a lark to be walking through it at this particularly ghostly hour.”

“Oh no, I know what you mean,” cried Zoe, “the people who destroyed the bridge! You do think it was done on purpose, then?”

“Dynamite, undoubtedly,” returned Wylie, “worked by one of those clockwork arrangements which are timed to go off at a certain moment. This one went off about forty seconds too soon. The guard actually saw the bridge blow up, and had just time to put the brakes on hard. If the train had been on the bridge, as the fiends who laid the dynamite intended, not a soul would have escaped.”

“I saw it too,” said Zoe, with a shudder. “And who do you think it was?”

“Why, the Thracian revolutionaries we heard of from the sergeant, of course,” said Maurice. “The troops had been carefully got out of the way by a false alarm, and the bridge was left defenceless. It was very neatly arranged. They were saying at the train that all these Thracian bands are under the orders of the Bishop of Tatarjé, who is a great pan-Slavist.”

“But what good would it have done them to destroy a whole train-load of people who had nothing to do with their troubles?” said Zoe. “Were they after the treasure?”

“Very likely,” said Wylie. “Money means more dynamite and more rifles. But even if it had all gone down into the river and been lost, the moral effect on Europe of the destruction of a train like this would have been immense. It would have called attention to their grievances, and advertised them as heroes who stick at nothing.”

“And you think they may be hiding in the trees now?”

“No, since their blow failed, I should imagine they are off double-quick march to some other part of the country, so as to establish a serviceable alibi. But even if they were here, I don’t think we look worth attacking.”

“We are a disreputable lot,” said Maurice, trying to scan his torn hands and ragged clothes in the twilight. “You will have to doctor our wounds and bruises when we get to the station, Zoe. She is one of those people who pride themselves on travelling with a specimen of every conceivable kind of thing that may possibly be wanted,” he explained to Wylie, “so she is sure to have plaster.”

“Plenty in my luggage, but only a little here,” said Zoe, “so we must use it economically. I suppose,” she added nervously, “you don’t think they may be lying in wait somewhere in front to get the treasure?”

“Not a bit of it,” said Wylie. “We are prepared for them now, and they know it. And to-morrow, I understand, the treasure is to be sent on at once with an armed escort. If I may offer a piece of advice, it is that the jewellery your sister is so anxious about should be sent on too.”

“She will never part with it,” said Zoe, with conviction. “Oh, don’t look at me as if I could persuade her. If I had the least influence over her, do you think she would be carrying it about with her as she does?”

“We are almost strangers to her, you see,” explained Maurice rather lamely. “We can’t expect to have much influence.”

“Well, it seems to me to be distinctly a case for the exercise of fraternal authority. Make him speak seriously to her, Miss Smith, and not shove off all the disagreeable things on you. I’m afraid you’ll have a bad time breaking the news of Mrs Smith’s death to your sister. By the bye, she was not your aunt, was she?”

“Oh no, no relation to us whatever,” said Zoe.

“We never met her before this journey,” added Maurice.

“That was what I said to myself when I saw you first,” said Wylie to Zoe. “Then her being named Smith was merely a coincidence?”

“Purely a coincidence,” said Zoe emphatically, and Maurice added, “You must think us a queer set.”

“Not at all,” returned Wylie politely and falsely.

“Oh, but you must!” cried Zoe. “I am sure, if we met ourselves, we should think we were the most extraordinary family that ever lived. But how can we help it?”

“One’s family is one of the things that have to be lived down,” said Wylie, with the kindest intentions, and went on to give instances in point from the history of people he had known, while Maurice and Zoe wished vainly that they could explain the true state of affairs--vainly, for how could they betray the history of their acquaintance with Eirene without her consent?

“It’s awful, Maurice,” lamented Zoe afterwards. “What will he think when he sees us separate at Therma, or if he ever meets her without us, or us without her? It will seem as if we had deliberately deceived him all along.”

But this was after they had arrived at the village, and accepted without enthusiasm the only quarters available. The Han, or inn, might have served satisfactorily to accommodate one or two sportsmen who did not mind roughing it, but now, invaded by a crowd of tired, hungry travellers, many of them bringing nothing but the clothes they wore, its resources were hopelessly overtaxed. The railway officials, securing Wylie, whose experience they recognised, as an ally, set to work to house their charges as best they could. The long loft which formed the upper storey of the inn was devoted to the ladies, and all the beds in the establishment--which were not above suspicion--were transferred thither, while rugs and sacks were requisitioned to provide couches for the men below. Bowls of coarse porridge, and platters of hastily boiled mutton, were forthcoming after a time, meal and a sheep having been commandeered from the neighbourhood, but there were no knives and forks, and spoons quickly ran short. Wylie shared in the abuse heaped upon the railway management, who ought, it appeared, to have provided a perfectly equipped hotel, with restaurant, hair-dressing saloons, bathrooms, and a large stock of borrowable clothing, at this particular spot, but he went on his way with a polite smile and unbending courtesy, arranging for breakfast on the morrow. Bare-footed, untidy girls, called in to help, fell over one another on the ladder-like staircase, or stood saucer-eyed to watch the “European” ladies and gentlemen, seated most uncomfortably on the floor, and grumbling over what seemed to Emathian minds a highly luxurious banquet. Hot water was absolutely unattainable, even if there had been cans to contain it, and the brushes and combs of such passengers as possessed them were passed from hand to hand for the benefit of the less fortunate. Zoe was happy in escaping early from the turmoil, for being in charge of Eirene, she was allowed to take her upstairs as soon as a bed could be prepared, and Maurice brought them a bowl of broth--or rather, water in which the mutton had been boiled--with pieces of meat floating in it. Eirene would eat nothing. While they sat outside the Han, waiting for the loft to be got ready, she had raised her head suddenly from Zoe’s shoulder, as if waking from a stupor, and demanded--

“Where is Evdotia Vladimirovna? I have not seen her.”

“I--I think she stayed behind, at the bridge,” stammered Zoe.

“Is she wounded? She would not have left me to you. What is the matter with her? Is she dead?”

Zoe struggled to say something, and failed, and Eirene read the truth from her broken accents.

“She is dead, then?” she said. “And I made her come with me!”

She would say nothing more, and the tears for which Zoe hoped would not come. Eirene allowed herself to be helped upstairs, and lay down obediently, but not to sleep. When the noise and confusion that reigned throughout the inn had at last subsided, Zoe was roused by hearing her voice. Sometimes she spoke in French or English, sometimes in an unknown tongue, which Zoe thought must be Scythian, rambling on and on, and moaning pitifully. Once she called out for her jewel-case, and Zoe, fearing that the other passengers would be disturbed, rose and brought it to her, leaving it on the bed, so that she might be sure it was safe. She held long conversations with some one, apparently urging some course of action, and Zoe guessed that her mind was recurring to the difficulty she had experienced in inducing Mrs Smith to accompany her on her quest, whatever it was. The delirium had passed off in the morning, but Eirene remained weak and feverish, and Zoe welcomed the appearance of the doctor, who came up from the scene of the accident with the rest of his patients in the emergency train as soon as it was light. Bustle was everywhere again, and the officials and Wylie had their hands full in producing order out of chaos. The most serious cases among the injured were to be sent back to Tatarjé, while those who were only slightly wounded, and the unhurt, were to proceed by road as fast as carriages could be provided to convey them, following the old route through the mountains which had preceded the railway, crossing the river by a Roman bridge at some distance lower down, and rejoining the line at the nearest station on the other side, where a train would be waiting to take them on to Therma. This would have been the natural course for Maurice and Zoe to follow, but there was Eirene to consider, and Zoe felt no surprise when the doctor remarked airily--

“She must not be moved, of course. A few days’ perfect rest and freedom from strain is necessary. You will be able to renew the dressings, mademoiselle, and I will leave you sufficient material. Your interesting sister is in no danger, but she will certainly not be fit to travel for a week.”

“Of course we must stay and look after her,” said Maurice, when he heard the verdict. “We can’t leave her here alone.”

This was Zoe’s own opinion, but for some reason Maurice’s ready agreement displeased her. “She has no claim on us whatever,” she said, rather tartly. “She simply tacked herself on to us.”

“What a low thing to say!” cried Maurice, really angry. “And the poor little girl in such trouble!”

“Of course she’s in trouble, but whose fault is it? You may say what you like, but you know you’d be horribly, frightfully angry if I went running about Europe and hooked myself on to a strange man and his sister.”

“That would be quite different. I mean, it would be quite different with strangers. She had sense enough to pick out us. At any rate”--Maurice had a dim idea that there was something not quite conclusive about his argument--“we ought to be very thankful that she did.”

“We? Scarcely. But I think she ought,” snapped Zoe, and having permitted herself this licence, set to work to atone for it. “Don’t look so righteously angry, Maurice. I never dreamed for a moment of leaving her alone here; only it struck me all at once how different it would have seemed to you if I had been in her place. Don’t be afraid; I’ll be her guide, philosopher, and friend as long as she’ll let me, and hand her over to her parents and guardians a reformed character, when they turn up at last.”

“Yes, one forgets that,” said Maurice, with what Zoe felt was unnecessary solemnity, and she turned away a little hastily.

“Is she going to come between Maurice and me?” she asked herself. “No, that she can’t do unless I let her. She isn’t a bad child, really--for a child, always seeing how far she can go, and half frightened at the things she does, and expecting other people to take the responsibility. I do wonder who she really is.”

“Good morning,” said Wylie, meeting her. “You look none the worse for your adventures, I’m glad to see. I met the doctor just now. Horribly bad luck for you to be fixed here. I hope you are not anxious about your sister?”

“The doctor says it is only rest she needs, thank you. I suppose this is ‘good-bye’?” noticing that he was equipped for a journey.

“Not exactly. I’m only going down with your brother to see if we can disinter your family luggage from the wreck. Er--I found I was more knocked about than I thought,” as Zoe looked at him in surprise, “and I thought a--a little rest wouldn’t do me any harm, so I’m staying on too--if you don’t mind, that is?”

“Why should I mind?” asked Zoe coolly. “I think it will be very nice for my brother to have a companion, as I shall be so much taken up. I hope you are not seriously hurt?”

“Oh no, no--nothing at all,” he assured her. “I am sending a message to my friend not to expect me just yet. Oh, by the bye, they will soon be packing off the treasure. What about your sister’s jewel-case? It has been a good deal talked of already, and the villagers are prepared to regard your party as possessed of illimitable wealth. I really think we should be safer without it.”

“I’ll speak to her at once,” said Zoe, as she mounted the stair. By way of proceeding in a gentle and diplomatic manner, she began by telling Eirene that Wylie was remaining with them, which seemed to fill her with compunction.

“I have not deserved this fidelity,” she said feebly, “for I have never shown him any special distinction. But he shall not go unrewarded. Oh,” meeting Zoe’s astonished and rather indignant eyes, “I forgot; he does not know. But his intention is kind.”

“He thinks you had better send your jewel-case on with the treasure, and get it placed in safety,” said Zoe bluntly, unreasonably irritated by Eirene’s assumption that Wylie was staying on her account.

“Never!” said Eirene decisively. “I won’t part with it.”

“Oh, very well. Every one is talking about it, and the revolutionaries are sure to hear. Then they will come and besiege the inn, and you will have to give it up.”

“Not while I live.”

“Well, if you think Maurice and Captain Wylie--or any one--would sacrifice the lives of a whole houseful of people just for the sake of your jewels, I don’t.”

Eirene wavered a little. “What does Maurice say?” she asked.

“He thinks, as I do, that if you are our sister, your brother’s wishes ought to have some effect on you.”

“If I only knew they would be safe!” sighed Eirene.

“Why, they are sure to be safe. You will be given a receipt for them, I expect, and then the railway people would be responsible.”

“If I thought that----!” Eirene was still gripping the box. “Zoe, will you find out at once? If the railway people will guarantee the safety of the case, I will entrust it to them.”

Much relieved by this reasonable attitude, Zoe went downstairs again, found the official in charge of the treasure, obtained all possible assurances from him, and returned to Eirene, who had opened the jewel-case, and with reluctant fingers was rearranging its more obvious contents--the trinkets which, as she had told the French lady, had belonged to her mother--in their proper places.

“Take it quickly, before I change my mind,” she said, locking it hastily.