"H'm," he exclaimed. "You are always a good diplomat,
Heltzendorff--always a good friend of the erratic Hohenzollerns. What
can I do to-night--eh? Suggest something."
"I would suggest that you dined _en famille_ at the Embassy," I replied.
"The Embassy! Never. I'm sick and tired of His Excellency and his
hideous old wife. They bore me to death. No, my dear Heltzendorff. I
wonder----"
And he paused.
"Well?" I asked.
"I wonder if Miss Hewitt would go to the theatre to-night--eh?"
"No," I snapped, for my long service gave me permission to speak my mind
pretty freely. "She is, I admit, a very charming young lady, but
remember she does not know your identity, and if her parents discover
what happened last night there will be a most infernal lot of trouble.
Recollect that her father, a financial magnate, is acquainted with the
Emperor. They have raced their yachts against each other. Indeed, Henry
Hewitt's won the Kiel Cup last year. So, personally, I think the game
that your Imperial Highness is playing is a distinctly dangerous one."
"Bah! It is only amusement. She amuses me. And she is so fond of the
pipe. She has been a visitor of Lung Ching's for over a year. She has a
faithful maid who goes with her, and I suppose she pays the old Chinaman
well."
"I suppose so," I remarked, for I knew that if the villainous old Ching
were paid well he would guarantee her safety in that den of his.
I could see by the Crown-Prince's face that he was unimpressed by my
warning. Too well did I know to what mad, impetuous lengths he would go
when of a sudden a pretty face attracted him. So utterly devoid is he of
self-control that a woman's eyes could lead him anywhere. A glance at
that weak chin of his will at once substantiate my statement.
His visit to Lung Ching's had left him somewhat muddled and limp, and
the next few days passed uneventfully. We went down into Surrey to stay
with a certain Baron von Rechberg, who had been a fellow-student of His
Highness's at Bonn. He was now head of a German bank in London, and
lived in a beautiful house surrounded by a large park high among the
Surrey hills. Count von Hochberg, "Willie's" bosom friend, whom he
always addressed as "Mickie," while the Count in turn called him
"Caesar," being in London at the time, accompanied us, and so merrily did
the time pass that the incident at Lung Ching's went out of my memory.
One night when we had all three returned to London "Willie" and Von
Hochberg spent the evening in the lounge of the Empire Theatre, and both
returned to the Prince's rooms about one o'clock in the morning.
"Heltzendorff, Mickie is going with me to Scotland to-morrow morning,"
said His Highness, as he tossed his overcoat upon the couch of that
luxurious little sitting-room within sight of the Maison Jules. "You
will stay here and attend to anything that may come through from
Potsdam. A courier should arrive to-morrow night, or is it Knof who is
coming? I forget."
"Your Highness sent Knof over to get the correspondence," I reminded
him, for it was necessary that all pressing matters should be attended
to, or the Emperor's suspicions might be aroused that his son was absent
abroad.
"Ah, the good Knof! Of course, he will be back to-morrow night. He will
have seen the Princess and told her how ill I have been, and how I am
gradually growing better," he laughed. "Trust Knof to tell a good, sound
lie."
"All chauffeurs can do that, my dear Caesar," exclaimed Von Hochberg,
with a grin.
Naturally I was filled with wonder regarding the nature of the
expedition which the pair were about to undertake, but, though we all
three smoked together for an hour, "Willie" seemed unusually sober, and
did not let drop a single hint regarding their mysterious destination.
Von Hochberg was living at the Coburg Hotel, and before he left "Willie"
arranged to breakfast with him at eight o'clock next morning, so that
they might leave Euston together by the ten o'clock express.
I roused the valet, who worked for an hour packing His Highness's
suit-case.
"One case only," the Crown-Prince had ordered. "I shall only be up there
a couple or three days. No evening clothes. I shall not want them."
That remark told me that he did not intend to pay any formal visit, as
he had done on most of his journeys to Scotland.
"Your Imperial Highness will take guns, of course," I remarked.
"Guns!" he echoed. "No--no guns this time. If I want to shoot rabbits I
can borrow a farmer's blunderbuss," he laughed.
That "Mickie," the hare-brained seeker after pleasure, was to be his
companion caused me some uneasiness. It was all very well for the
Crown-Prince to live in London as Herr Lehnhardt. London was a big
place, and those who catered for his Imperial pleasures were paid well,
and did not seek to inquire into his antecedents or whether he was
really what he represented himself to be.
Money talks in the underground London, just as it does on the Stock
Exchange. But it sometimes, I assure you, took a long purse to keep the
foreign papers quiet regarding the wild escapades of the Kaiser's heir.
That night somehow I felt a good deal of apprehension regarding this
mysterious flying visit to Scotland. That the pair had some deeply-laid
scheme on hand I knew from their evasiveness. But what it was I failed
to discover.
Early that morning I put "Caesar" into a taxi with his suit-case. He wore
a rough suit of tweeds, and took with him his walking-stick and a
khaki-coloured waterproof coat, presenting the picture of a young man
going North to shoot.
"I'll be back in a few days, Heltzendorff. Attend to the letters," he
urged. "Throw away as many as you can. If I want you I will telegraph."