A GENTLEMAN ADVENTURER
The room which the Dictator entered was an attractive room, bright with
flowers, which Miss Paulo had been pleased to arrange herself--bright
with the persevering sunshine. It was decorated, like his bedroom, with
the restrained richness of the mid-eighteenth century. With discretion,
Paulo had slightly adapted the accessories of the room to please by
suggestion the susceptibilities of its occupant. A marble bust of Cæsar
stood upon the dwarf bookcase. A copy of a famous portrait of Napoleon
was on one of the walls; on another an engraving of Dr. Francia still
more delicately associated great leaders with South America. At a table
in one corner of the room--a table honeycombed with drawers and
pigeon-holes, and covered with papers, letters, documents of all
kinds--Hamilton sat writing rapidly. Another table nearer the window,
set apart for the Dictator's own use, had everything ready for
business--had, moreover, in a graceful bowl of tinted glass, a large
yellow carnation, his favourite flower, the flower which had come to be
the badge of those of his inclining. This, again, was a touch of Miss
Paulo's sympathetic handiwork.
The Dictator, whose mood had brightened, smiled again at this little
proof of personal interest in his welfare. As he entered, Hamilton
dropped his pen, sprang to his feet, and advanced respectfully to greet
him. The Dictator pointed to the yellow carnation.
'The way of the exiled autocrat is made smooth for him here, at least,'
he said.
Hamilton inclined his head gravely. 'Mr. Paulo knows what is due,' he
answered, 'to John Ericson, to the victor of San Felipe and the Dictator
of Gloria. He knows how to entertain one who is by right, if not in
fact, a reigning sovereign.'
'He hangs out our banner on the outer wall,' said Ericson, with an
assumed gravity as great as Hamilton's own. Then he burst into a laugh
and said, 'My dear Hamilton, it's all very well to talk of the victor of
San Felipe and the Dictator of Gloria. But the victor of San Felipe is
the victim of the Plaza Nacional, and the Dictator of Gloria is at
present but one inconsiderable item added to the exile world of London,
one more of the many refugees who hide their heads here, and are unnoted
and unknown.'
His voice had fallen a little as his sentences succeeded each other, and
the mirth in his voice had a bitter ring in it when he ended. His eye
ranged from the bust to the picture, and from the picture to the
engraving contemplatively.
Something in the contemplation appeared to cheer him, for his look was
brighter, and his voice had the old joyous ring in it when he spoke
again. It was after a few minutes' silence deferentially observed by
Hamilton, who seemed to follow and to respect the course of his leader's
thoughts.
'Well,' he said, 'how is the old world getting on? Does she roll with
unabated energy in her familiar orbit, indifferent to the fall of states
and the fate of rulers? Stands Gloria where she did?'
Hamilton laughed. 'The world has certainly not grown honest, but there
are honest men in her. Here is a telegram from Gloria which came this
morning. It was sent, of course, as usual, to our City friends, who sent
it on here immediately.' He handed the despatch to his chief, who seized
it and read it eagerly. It seemed a commonplace message enough--the
communication of one commercial gentleman in Gloria with another
commercial gentleman in Farringdon Street. But to the eyes of Hamilton
and of Ericson it meant a great deal. It was a secret communication from
one of the most influential of the Dictator's adherents in Gloria. It
was full of hope, strenuously encouraging. The Dictator's face
lightened.
'Anything else?' he asked.
'These letters,' Hamilton answered, taking up a bundle from the desk at
which he had been sitting. 'Five are from money-lenders offering to
finance your next attempt. There are thirty-three requests for
autographs, twenty-two requests for interviews, one very pressing from
"The Catapult," another from "The Moon"--Society papers, I believe; ten
invitations to dinner, six to luncheon; an offer from a well-known
lecturing agency to run you in the United States; an application from a
publisher for a series of articles entitled "How I Governed Gloria," on
your own terms; a letter from a certain Oisin Stewart Sarrasin, who
calls himself Captain, and signs himself a soldier of fortune.'
'What does _he_ want?' asked Ericson. 'His seems to be the most
interesting thing in the lot.'
'He offers to lend you his well-worn sword for the re-establishment of
your rule. He hints that he has an infallible plan of victory, that in a
word he is your very man.'
The Dictator smiled a little grimly. 'I thought I could do my own
fighting,' he said. 'But I suppose everybody will be wanting to help me
now, every adventurer in Europe who thinks that I can no longer help
myself. I don't think we need trouble Captain Stewart. Is that his
name?'
'Stewart Sarrasin.'
'Sarrasin--all right. Is that all?'
'Practically all,' Hamilton answered. 'A few other letters of no
importance. Stay; no, I forgot. These cards were left this morning, a
little after nine o'clock, by a young lady who rode up attended by her
groom.'
'A young lady,' said Ericson, in some surprise, as he extended his hand
for the cards.
'Yes, and a very pretty young lady too,' Hamilton answered, 'for I
happened to be in the hall at the time, and saw her.'
Ericson took the cards and looked at them. They were two in number; one
was a man's card, one a woman's. The man's card bore the legend 'Sir
Rupert Langley,' the woman's was merely inscribed 'Helena Langley.' The
address was a house at Prince's Gate.
The Dictator looked up surprised. 'Sir Rupert Langley, the Foreign
Secretary?'
'I suppose it must be,' Hamilton said, 'there can't be two men of the
same name. I have a dim idea of reading something about his daughter in
the papers some time ago, just before our revolution, but I can't
remember what it was.'
'Very good of them to honour fallen greatness, in any case,' Ericson
said. 'I seem to have more friends than I dreamed of. In the meantime
let us have breakfast.'
Hamilton rang the bell, and a man brought in the coffee and rolls which
constituted the Dictator's simple breakfast. While he was eating it he
glanced over the letters that had come. 'Better refuse all these
invitations, Hamilton.'
Hamilton expostulated. He was Ericson's intimate and adviser, as well as
secretary.
'Do you think that is the best thing to do?' he suggested. 'Isn't it
better to show yourself as much as possible, to make as many friends as
you can? There's a good deal to be done in that way, and nothing much
else to do for the present. Really I think it would be better to accept
some of them. Several are from influential political men.'
'Do you think these influential political men would help me?' the
Dictator asked, good-humouredly cynical. 'Did they help Kossuth? Did
they help Garibaldi? What I want are war-ships, soldiers, a big loan,
not the agreeable conversation of amiable politicians.'
'Nevertheless----' Hamilton began to protest.
His chief cut him short. 'Do as you please in the matter, my dear boy,'
he said. 'It can't do any harm, anyhow. Accept all you think it best to
accept; decline the others. I leave myself confidently in your hands.'
'What are you going to do this morning?' Hamilton inquired. 'There are
one or two people we ought to think of seeing at once. We mustn't let
the grass grow under our feet for one moment.'
'My dear boy,' said Ericson good-humouredly, 'the grass shall grow under
my feet to-day, so far as all that is concerned. I haven't been in
London for ten years, and I have something to do before I do anything
else. To-morrow you may do as you please with me. But if you insist upon
devoting this day to the cause----'
'Of course I do,' said Hamilton.
'Then I graciously permit you to work at it all day, while I go off and
amuse myself in a way of my own. You might, if you can spare the time,
make a call at the Foreign Office and say I should be glad to wait on
Sir Rupert Langley there, any day and hour that suit him--we must smooth
down the dignity of these Foreign Secretaries, I suppose?'
'Oh, of course,' Hamilton said, peremptorily. Hamilton took most things
gravely; the Dictator usually did not. Hamilton seemed a little put out
because his chief should have even indirectly suggested the possibility
of his not waiting on Sir Rupert Langley at the Foreign Office.
'All right, boy; it shall be done. And look here, Hamilton, as we are
going to do the right thing, why should you not leave cards for me and
for yourself at Sir Rupert Langley's house? You might see the daughter.'
'Oh, she never heard of me,' Hamilton said hastily.
'The daughter of a Foreign Secretary?'
'Anyhow, of course I'll call if you wish it, Excellency.'
'Good boy! And do you know I have taken a fancy that I should like to
see this soldier of fortune, Captain----'
'Sarrasin?'
'Sarrasin--yes. Will you drop him a line and suggest an
interview--pretty soon? You know all about my times and engagements.'
'Certainly, your Excellency,' Hamilton replied, with almost military
formality and precision; and the Dictator departed.