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Updated: May 19, 2025
"And why the devil did the doctor here tell me that your name was Von Ragastein?" "Because it happens to be the truth," was the somewhat measured reply. "Devinter is my family name, and the one by which I was known when in England. When I succeeded to the barony and estates at my uncle's death, however, I was compelled to also take the title." "Well, it's a small world!" Dominey exclaimed.
"In the life of the cities you would be a sentimentalist." "No city nor any civilised country will ever claim me again," Dominey sighed. "I should never have the courage to face what might come." Von Ragastein rose to his feet. The dim outline of his erect form was in a way majestic. He seemed to tower over the man who lounged in the chair before him.
"I am glad that you are still here," he said heartily. "Excuse me while I bathe and change. We will dine a little earlier. So far I have not eaten to-day." "A long trek?" Dominey asked curiously. "I have trekked far," was the quiet reply. At dinner time, Von Ragastein was one more himself, immaculate in white duck, with clean linen, shaved, and with little left of his fatigue.
Late in the afternoon of the third day, Von Ragastein rode into the camp. His clothes were torn and drenched with the black mud of the swamps, dust and dirt were thick upon his face. His pony almost collapsed as he swung himself off. Nevertheless, he paused to greet his guest with punctilious courtesy, and there was a gleam of real satisfaction in his eyes as the two men shook hands.
And I well, it's finished with me. It would have been finished last night if I hadn't seen the smoke from your fires, and I don't much care that's the trouble. I go blundering on. I suppose the end will come somehow, sometime Can I have some rum or whisky, Devinter I mean Von Ragastein Your Excellency or whatever I ought to say? You see those wreaths of mist down by the river?
You're a curious, thick-headed race, you Germans." "I demand again," Schmidt shouted, "to know by what right I am treated as a criminal?" "Because you are one," Eddy answered coolly. "You and Von Ragastein together planned the murder of Sir Everard Dominey in East Africa, and I caught you creeping across the floor just now with a knife in your hand. That'll do for you.
"She mistook you for a Baron Leopold Von Ragastein," Caroline continued drily. "Von Ragastein was her lover in Hungary. He fought a duel with her husband and killed him. The Kaiser was furious and banished him to East Africa." Dominey picked up his shooting-stick and handed his gun to Middleton. The beaters were through the wood. "Yes, I remember now," he said. "She addressed me as Leopold."
She turns to you for love as a flower to the sun after a long spell of cold, wet weather. Von Ragastein, you are a man of honour. You must find means to deal with this situation, however difficult it may become." Dominey had recovered from his first wave of weakness. His companion's words excited no sentiment of anger.
"But you will," was the stern reply. "Listen." An hour passed, and the voices of the two men had ceased. The howling of the animals had lessened with the paling of the fires, and a slow, melancholy ripple of breeze was passing through the bush and lapping the surface of the river. It was Von Ragastein who broke through what might almost have seemed a trance.
"It is our custom," Von Ragastein declared a little didactically, "in Germany and wherever we Germans go, to be prepared not only for what is likely to happen but for what might possibly happen." "A war in my younger days, when I was in the Army," Dominey mused, "might have made a man of me." "Surely you had your chance out here?" Dominey shook his head.
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