Five weeks later.
A hot summer's night in Treysa. It was past midnight, yet before the
gay, garish cafes people still lingered at the little tables, enjoying
to the full the cool breeze after the heat and burden of the day, or
strolled beneath the lime avenues in the Klosterstrasse, gossiping or
smoking, all loth to retire.
In the great palace beyond the trees at the end of the vista the State
dinner had ended, and the lonely King, glad to escape to the privacy of
his own workroom in the farther wing of the palace, had cast himself
into a long lounge-chair and selected a cigar. He was still in his
military uniform, rendered the more striking by the many glittering
orders across his breast--the Golden Fleece, the Black Eagle, the Saint
Hubert, the Saint Andrew, and the rest. As he lit his cigar very slowly
his face assumed a heavy, thoughtful look, entirely different from the
mask of careless good-humour which he had worn at the brilliant function
he had just left. The reception had not ended; it would continue for a
couple of hours longer. But he was tired and bored to death of it all,
and the responsibility as ruler already weighed very heavily upon him.
Though he made no mention of it to a single soul, he thought of his
absent wife often--very often. Now and then a pang of remorse would
cause him to knit his brows. Perhaps, after all, he had not treated her
quite justly. And yet, he would reassure himself, she was surely not as
innocent as she pretended. No, no; she was worthless. They were
therefore better apart--far better.
Since his accession he had, on several occasions, been
conscience-stricken. Once, in the empty nursery, he had noticed little
Ignatia's toys, her dolls and perambulator, lying where the child had
left them, and tears had sprung to his eyes. Allen, the kindly
Englishwoman, too, had been to him and resigned her appointment, as she
had no further duties to perform.
The Crown Princess's disappearance had at first been a nine-days' wonder
in Treysa, but now her continued absence was regarded with but little
surprise. The greatest scandal in the world dies down like grass in
autumn. Those who had conspired against her congratulated themselves
that they had triumphed, and were now busy starting fresh intrigues
against the young Queen's partisans.
Since the hour that his sweet-faced wife had left the palace in secret,
the King had received no word from her. He had learned from Vienna that
she had been to Wartenstein, and that her father had cast her out; but
after that she had disappeared--to Rome he had been told. As Crown
Prince he had had his liberty, but now as King he lived apart, and was
unapproachable. His was a lonely life. The duties of kingship had
sobered him, and now he saw full well the lack of a clever consort as
his wife was--a queen who could rule the Court.
Those about him believed him to be blind to their defects and their
intrigues, because he was silent concerning them. Yet, if the truth
were told, he was extremely wideawake, and saw with regret how, without
the Queen's aid, he must fall beneath the influence of those who were
seeking place and power, to the distinct detriment of the nation.
Serious thoughts such as these were consuming him as he sat watching the
smoke rings ascend to the dark-panelled ceiling.
"Where is she, I wonder?" he asked himself aloud, his voice sighing
through the room. "She has never reproached me--never. I wonder if all
they have told me concerning her is really true." As he uttered these
words of suspicion his jaws became firmly set, and a hardness showed at
the corners of his mouth. "Ah, yes!" he added. "It is, alas! only too
true--too true. Hinckeldeym would never dare to lie to me!"
And he sat with his serious eyes cast upon the floor, reflecting
gloomily upon the past, as he now so very often reflected.
The room was luxurious in its appointments, for since his father's death
he had had it redecorated and refurnished. The stern old monarch had
liked a plain, severe, business-like room in which to attend to the
details of State, but his son held modern ideas, and loved to surround
himself with artistic things, hence the white-and-gold decorations, the
electric-light fittings, the furniture and the pale green upholstery
were all in the style of the _art nouveau_, and had the effect of
exquisite taste.
A tiny clock ticked softly upon the big, littered writing-table, and
from without, in the marble corridor, the slow, even tread of the sentry
reached his ear.
Suddenly, while he was smoking and thinking, a low rap was heard; and
giving permission to enter, he looked round, and saw Hinckeldeym, who,
in Court dress, bowed and advanced, with his cocked hat tucked beneath
his arm, saying,--
"I regret, sire, to crave audience at this hour, but it is upon a matter
both imperative and confidential."
"Then shut the inner door," his Majesty said in a hard voice, and the
flabby-faced old fellow closed the second door that was placed there as
precaution against eavesdroppers.
"Well?" asked the King, turning to him in some surprise that he should
be disturbed at that hour.
"After your Majesty left the Throne Room I was called out to receive an
urgent dispatch that had just arrived by Imperial courier from Vienna.
This dispatch," and he drew it from his pocket, "shows most plainly that
his Majesty the Emperor is seriously annoyed at your Majesty's laxness
and hesitation to apply for a divorce. Yesterday he called our
Ambassador and remarked that although he had degraded the Princess,
taken from her all her titles, her decorations, and her privileges, yet
you, her husband, had done absolutely nothing. I crave your Majesty's
pardon for being compelled to speak so plainly," added the wily old
fellow, watching the disturbing effect his words had upon his Sovereign.
"That is all very well," he answered, in a mechanical voice. "The
Emperor's surprise and annoyance are quite natural. I have been
awaiting your reports, Hinckeldeym. Before my wife's disappearance you
seemed to be particularly well-informed--through De Trauttenberg, I
suppose--of all her movements and her intentions. Yet since she left
you have been content to remain in utter ignorance."
"Not in entire ignorance, sire. Did I not report to you that she went
to Vienna in the man's company?"
"And where is the man at the present moment?"
"At Camaldoli, a health resort in central Italy. The Ambassador and
several of the staff are spending the summer up there."
"Well, what else do you know?" the King asked, fixing his eyes upon the
crafty old scoundrel who was the greatest power in the Kingdom. "Can
you tell me where my wife is--that's the question? I don't think much
of your secret service which costs the country so much, if you cannot
tell me that," he said frankly.
"Yes, your Majesty, I can tell you that, and very much more," the old
fellow answered, quite unperturbed. "The truth is that I have known
where she has been for a long time past, and a great deal has been
discovered. Yet, for your Majesty's peace of mind, I have not mentioned
so painful a subject. Had I not exerted every effort to follow the
Princess I should surely have been wanting in my duties as Minister."
"Then where is she?" he asked quickly, rising from his chair.
"In England--at a small watering-place on the South Coast, called
Worthing."
"Well--and what else?"
Heinrich Hinckeldeym made no reply for a few moments, as though
hesitating to tell his royal master all that he knew. Then at last he
said, with that wily insinuation by which he had already ruined the poor
Princess's reputation and good name,--
"The rest will, I think, best be furnished to the counsel who appears on
your Majesty's behalf to apply for a divorce."
"Ah!" he sighed sadly. "Is it so grave as that? Well, Hinckeldeym, you
may tell me everything, only recollect I must have proof--proof. You
understand?" he added hoarsely.
"Hitherto I have always endeavoured to give your Majesty proof, and on
certain occasions you have complimented me upon my success in
discovering the secrets of the pair," he answered.
"I know I have, but I must have more proof now. There must be no
surmises--but hard, solid facts, you understand! In those days I was
only Crown Prince. To-day I am King, and my wife is Queen--whatever may
be her faults."
The old Minister was considerably taken aback by this sudden refusal on
his royal master's part to accept every word of his as truth. Yet
outwardly he exhibited no sign of annoyance or of disappointment. He
was a perfect diplomatist.
"If your Majesty will deign to give them audience, I will, within half
an hour, bring here the two secret service agents who have been to
England, and they shall tell you with their own lips what they have
discovered."
"Yes, do so," the King exclaimed anxiously. "Let them tell me the whole
truth. They will be discreet, of course, and not divulge to the people
that I have given them audience--eh?"
"They are two of the best agents your Majesty possesses. If I may be
permitted, I will go at once and send for them."
And walking backwards, he bowed, and left the room. Three-quarters of
an hour later he returned, bringing with him a middle-aged, thin-faced
woman, rather tall and thin, dressed plainly in black, and a tall,
grey-haired, and rather gentlemanly looking man, whom he introduced to
their Sovereign, who was standing with his back to the writing-table.
The woman's name was Rose Reinherz and the man's Otto Stieger.
The King surveyed both of them critically. He had never seen any member
of his secret service in the flesh before, and was interested in them
and in their doings.
"The Minister Hinckeldeym tells me," he said, addressing Stieger, "that
you are both members of our secret service, and that you have returned
from England. I wish to hear your report from your own lips. Tell me
exactly what you have discovered without any fear of giving me personal
offence. I want to hear the whole truth, remember, however disagreeable
it may be."
"Yes," added the evil-eyed old Minister. "Tell his Majesty all that you
have discovered regarding the lady, who for the present purposes may
remain nameless." The spy hesitated for a moment, confused at finding
himself called so suddenly into the presence of his Sovereign, and
without an opportunity of putting on another suit of clothes. Besides,
he was at a loss how to begin.
"Did you go to Vienna?" asked the King.
"I was sent to Vienna the instant it became known that the Crown
Princess--I mean the lady--had left the palace. I discovered that she
had driven to her father's palace, but finding him absent had gone to
Wartenstein. I followed her there, but she had left again before I
arrived, and I entirely lost track of her. Probably she went to Paris,
but of that I am not sure. I went to Rome, and for a fortnight kept
observation upon the Count, but he wrote no letters to her, which made
me suspect that she was hiding somewhere in Rome."
"You reported that she was actually in Rome. Hinckeldeym told me that."
The Minister's grey brows were knit, but only for a second.
"I did not report that she was actually there, sire. I only reported my
suspicion."
"A suspicion which was turned into an actual fact before it reached my
ears--eh?" he said in a hard voice. "Go on."
Hinckeldeym now regretted that he had so readily brought his spies face
to face with the King.
"After losing touch with the lady for several weeks, it was discovered
that she was staying under an assumed name at the Savoy Hotel, in
London. I travelled from Rome to London post haste, and took a room at
the hotel, finding that she had engaged a young Englishwoman named
Redmayne as maid, and that she was in the habit of meeting in secret a
certain Englishman named Bourne, who seemed to be leading a curiously
secluded life. I reported this to the Minister Hinckeldeym, who at once
sent me as assistant Rose Reinherz, now before your Majesty. Together
we have left no stone unturned to fully investigate the situation, and--
well, we have discovered many things."
"And what are they? Explain."
"We have ascertained that Count Leitolf still writes to the lady,
sending her letters to the same address in Brussels as previously. A
copy of one letter, which we intercepted, I placed in the Minister's
hands. It is couched in terms that leave no doubt that this man loves
her, and that she reciprocates his affection."
"You are quite certain that it is not a mere platonic friendship?" asked
the King, fixing his eyes upon the spy very earnestly.
"As a man of the world, your Majesty, I do not think there is such a
thing as platonic friendship between man and woman."
"That is left to poets and dreamers," remarked the wily Hinckeldeym,
with a sneer.
"Besides," the spy continued, "we have carefully watched this man
Bourne, and find that when she went to live at Worthing he followed her
there. They meet every evening, and go long walks together."
"I have watched them many times, your Majesty," declared Rose Reinherz.
"I have seen him kiss her hand."
"Then, to be frank, you insinuate that this man is her latest lover?"
remarked the King with a dark look upon his face.
"Unfortunately, that is so," the woman replied. "He is with her almost
always; and furthermore, after much inquiry and difficulty, we have at
last succeeded in establishing who he really is."
"And who is he?"
"A thief in hiding from the police--one of a clever gang who have
committed many robberies of jewels in various cities. This is his
photograph--one supplied from London to our own Prefecture of Police in
Treysa." And he handed the King an oblong card with two portraits of
Guy Bourne, full face and profile, side by side.
His Majesty held it in his hand, and beneath the light gazed upon it for
a long time, as though to photograph the features in his memory.
Hinckeldeym watched him covertly, and glanced at the spy approvingly.
"And you say that this man is at Worthing, and in hiding from the
police? You allege that he is an intimate friend of my wife's?"
"Stieger says that he is her latest lover," remarked Hinckeldeym. "You
have written a full and detailed report. Is not that so?" he asked.