CHAPTER I.

AN UNCROWNED KING

A ROMANCE OF HIGH POLITICS

BY

SYDNEY C. GRIER

AUTHOR OF ‘IN FURTHEST IND,’

‘HIS EXCELLENCY’S ENGLISH GOVERNESS,’ ETC.

(_First in the Balkan Series_)

THIRD IMPRESSION

WILLIAM BLACKWOOD AND SONS

EDINBURGH AND LONDON

MCMVII

_All Rights reserved_

CONTENTS.

I. A KINGDOM GOING BEGGING

II. FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW

III. “IF THOU WERT KIND AS THOU ART FAIR----”

IV. A CANDID FRIENDSHIP

V. A CALL OF DUTY

VI. A ROYAL PROGRESS

VII. CHECK

VIII. FOR HIS GOOD

IX. A WOMAN OF HER WORD

X. REASONS OF STATE

XI. A DELICATE NEGOTIATION

XII. TO OBLIGE A LADY

XIII. PUNIC FAITH

XIV. OVER THE BORDER AND AWAY

XV. TERMS OF ACCOMMODATION

XVI. WORDS FROM DYING LIPS

XVII. MINE AND COUNTERMINE

XVIII. SO NEAR, AND YET----

XIX. PILGRIMS PERFORCE

XX. TAKEN BY SURPRISE

XXI. A REVOLT OR A REVOLUTION?

XXII. A KING WITHOUT A CROWN

XXIII. UNDER WHICH KING?

XXIV. THE KING HAS HIS OWN

NOTE.

_It may be interesting to know that the Monmouthshire pronunciation of

the name Caerleon is Carleen, whence arises the form Carlino._

AN UNCROWNED KING.

CHAPTER I.

A KINGDOM GOING BEGGING.

“After question-time, the First Lord of the Treasury rose to make a

statement with regard to the course of public business, the salient

feature of which was the announcement that the Government found

themselves compelled to appropriate all the time of private members

during the remainder of the session. We understand that this action on

the part of the Ministry has aroused strong feeling on both sides of

the House, particularly among those members who have charge of private

bills. One of the supporters of the Government who has been very

hardly treated is Viscount Usk, whose bill for permitting peers to

become candidates for seats in the Lower House, on relinquishing their

right to a seat in the House of Lords, had obtained the first place in

the ballot for Tuesday next.”

Thus far the ‘Fleet Street Gazette,’ but “strong feeling” was a mild

term to apply to the sentiment evoked in the minds of honourable

members by the Government statement. That a portion of their time

would be confiscated they had guessed only too well, but such a

drastic measure as this was quite unexpected. Rage, disappointment,

and disgust were depicted on face after face along the back benches,

and the popular Minister to whose task it fell to make the

announcement was allowed to resume his seat without a single

expression of approval. Among the most wrathful of the malcontents was

Lord Usk, whose cup had been dashed from his lips in the peculiarly

cruel manner noticed sympathetically by the ‘Fleet Street,’ and who

sat moodily in his place, gnawing the end of his moustache, his

forehead drawn into a heavy frown. Mr Forfar, the First Lord, lounging

delicately from the House after hurling his thunderbolt, with his

short-sighted eyes fixed on space, on the paper in his hand, on

anything but the scowling faces of his supporters, encountered his

gaze without intending to do so, and leaned over the benches to speak

to him.

“Rather rough on you, Usk. Better luck next time!”

“It’s all very well for you to laugh----” began Lord Usk, savagely,

and then stopped short, finding that he was making rather a weak

remark, whereas he had meant to say something cutting. Mr Forfar waved

his hand soothingly, and passed on with a smile.

“If it had been any one but Usk,” he said to his colleague, Sir James

Morrell, when they were outside the House, “I should have thought he

meant ratting, but he is quite safe. He gets excited now and then, but

he will sulk to-night and be all right to-morrow.”

After a time Lord Usk also quitted the House, and went to the library

to see whether there were any letters for him. There were none of any

interest, and he was toying somewhat aimlessly with the magazines on

one of the tables, when he descried looming in the distance the form

of the party Whip, intent on beating up recruits for the dinner-hour.

The sight roused him again to fierce resentment. On ordinary occasions

Usk was the mildest of men, and one of the Whip’s pattern members, not

only voting safely with the party in important divisions (with the

exception of occasional outbursts on the question of Temperance and

kindred subjects, which were dealt with tenderly as the eccentricities

of youth), but proving himself almost always ready to dine in the

precincts, in case of a call during the dinner-hour. But now his

forbearance had been strained too far, and he rebelled. He was not

going to help to keep a house for a Government which valued his

services as little as did this one, and he evaded the Whip with some

difficulty, for his height rendered him conspicuous among the other

members, and slipped out into Palace Yard.

“I’ll take a night off, and drop in at Mrs Sadleir’s,” he thought, his

resentment already beginning to give way under the soothing

recollection of his revenge on the Whip.

Mrs Sadleir’s was one of the few houses at which Usk was at all a

constant guest, for he hated society with an almost anarchist hatred

quite at variance with his political opinions generally. Very quickly,

on his first introduction into the world of London, he had learnt by

bitter experience to divide the women he met into two categories.

There were those who were anxious to marry him, either personally, or

vicariously to some relation, and those who were not. It was in vain

that he tried by turns to gain the reputation of a student, a cynic,

and a misogynist; the young ladies and their mothers still thought

that a man in his present position, to say nothing of his prospect of

succeeding to the Marquisate of Caerleon at no very distant date,

ought not to be judged too harshly, even for such unamiable

peculiarities as these. This led him to forswear almost entirely the

company of the fair sex, for the young ladies who did not want to

marry him made the fact so conspicuous, and were so anxious to force

it upon his notice, that he resented their aggressive prudery as

strongly as he did their sisters’ too evident wiles. Hence he was

wont, now that his experience was gained, sternly to resist all

attempts to allure him into general society, and he had become known

to the party leaders as a young man who devoted himself to the study

of sociological and political problems, and affected the company of

his elders. But he was content to visit at Mrs Sadleir’s house, and

under her wing to confront the hordes of society girls who thirsted

for his prospective coronet, since he knew that she had neither

daughter nor niece to recommend him as a wife, and that she had a most

unfeminine aversion to match-making. Mrs Sadleir had been a dear

friend of his mother’s, and on Lady Caerleon’s death had done much to

supply her place to Usk and his brother Cyril. Ill-natured persons

said that she was trying to achieve a social success by becoming the

second Lady Caerleon, but better-informed people scouted the idea,

knowing well that she had refused Lord Caerleon very decidedly two

years after his wife’s death, although without any diminution of the

friendship which had always existed between them.

For a rising young politician of pronounced imperialist views, like

Usk, Mrs Sadleir’s house was emphatically one to visit. Her husband,

who had held an important permanent post in the Foreign Office, had

gathered around him in his leisure hours men of all nations with whom

he came in contact in the course of his duties, and after his death

his widow found herself unable to dispense with the excitement of the

brilliant society to which she had grown accustomed. It was a

commonplace among her friends that, in most cases, she could, if she

liked, announce forthcoming diplomatic changes before the ministers

who arranged them, and some said that a good deal of the political

history of Europe had been made at different times in her

drawing-room. Yet she was not an intriguer, far less a conspirator,

but simply a cultivated, tactful woman, with a talent for bringing

together at the right time the right people, or, at any rate, the

people who it was desirable should meet one another. She came forward

now to greet Lord Usk, as he mounted her staircase, and made him a

sign to wait until she had got rid of a voluble Italian secretary of

embassy, who was impressing some fact upon her with a good deal of

gesticulation. Mrs Sadleir’s gracious and striking personality was

reflected in her dress. Her gown was black, made in a severe yet

fanciful style that was unlike any one else’s. On her head she wore an

arrangement of black lace, which was no more to be called a cap than a

veil, and was the despair of her maid, but which, taken in conjunction

with her bright dark eyes and the silver hair rolled smoothly back

from her forehead, gave her the look of a great lady of the old

_régime_. Having disposed of the Italian, she turned to Usk.

“I am very glad indeed that you have come in to-night, Usk, for I have

some one here whom you will enjoy meeting. I was almost inclined to

send a message to you at the House by Dr Egerton, who was going on

there; but I thought you might come, and therefore I waited. It is M.

Drakovics to whom I want to introduce you.”

“What! the Kossuth of the Balkans--the Thracian premier?” asked Usk,

much interested.

“Yes, the great history-maker of to-day. It is a liberal education

(pray don’t think I intend a pun) to hear him talk. Come and I will

take you to him.”

She did not lead him into the crowded drawing-room, full of light and

laughter, but into a smaller room near at hand, where a solitary

gentleman in evening dress was dimly visible by the rays of a Moorish

lamp hanging in a window-recess. He was a small shrunken man, with a

large bald head and a massive brow; and as Usk’s eyes grew accustomed

to the dim light, he saw in the bronzed face and heavy grey moustache

the hint of a likeness to another and a more successful statesman than

the Hungarian patriot, a likeness which was, moreover, not altogether

distasteful to M. Drakovics himself.

“Lord Usk--M. Drakovics,” said Mrs Sadleir, briskly. “Now I am going

to leave you to have a good talk, for I want you to know one another.

If you will sit here in the recess, the curtains will hide you, and

you will not be seized upon by any troublesome acquaintances.”

“Milord,” said M. Drakovics, bowing formally, but scanning Usk from

head to foot in a way which made the younger man feel that he was

being reckoned up and his measure taken, “I am much honoured in

meeting you. Your name, and your father’s name also, are very well

known to us in Thracia.”

“You are very kind,” said Usk, in the embarrassed way in which the

average Englishman receives a compliment. “I’m sure I am delighted to

have the chance of meeting you here. I never expected to be able to

hear about the Thracian revolution from one who was in it.”

“From one who may be said to have been at the head of it,” corrected

M. Drakovics, gravely. “You are interested in Eastern Europe, milord?”

“Naturally, since no one who takes any interest whatever in

international politics can well avoid keeping his eye on the Balkan

States,” said Usk; “and Thracia has always seemed to me the most

promising of them all, if only she got a chance. Your long struggle

against Roum, and the way in which you won your freedom, have shown

what your people are made of.”

“Yes, indeed,” responded M. Drakovics, his eyes lighting up, “Thracia

is the nation of the future in Eastern Europe. We are the only truly

European race south of the Carpathians. The Mœsians are Slavs, the

Dardanians half Roumis. Our blood is chiefly Latin, with a large

Teutonic admixture. Our very language is far more nearly akin to the

Italian than to the Slavonic.”

“And yet your own name is Slavonic?” suggested Usk.

“Most of our names are, just as in religion we belong to the Orthodox

Church. It is the result of our isolation, hemmed in as we are by Slav

races. But our aspirations are wholly Western, and the national hatred

of Scythia, our great Slav neighbour, is a perfect passion.”

“That was the cause of your revolution, wasn’t it?” asked Usk. “We are

generally rather misty about your politics here, I’m afraid, but that

seems to have penetrated into most people’s minds.”

“It was the cause,” returned M. Drakovics. “You are aware, milord,

that when we threw off the Roumi yoke, many years ago, we did so with

the assistance--the moral support--of Scythia. For this assistance we

have been paying dearly ever since, while our country has groaned

under the rule of the House of Franza. No doubt the simplest plan

would have been to place a Scythian grand-duke at once upon the

throne, but it was more politic to allow us to elect a national

sovereign, and then to make him a Scythian tributary. Our first king,

Alexander Franza, the patriot who had conducted the struggle for

freedom to a successful issue, saw the danger, and tried to avert it,

straining every nerve to pay off the loans advanced by Scythia for

various purposes; but he died before he could effect this object, and

his successors, instead of following his example, borrowed more

largely still, thus placing the kingdom completely in the hands of

Scythia. You know what our history has been since our independence was

guaranteed; how, with one of the finest countries in Europe, the

resources of which are as yet scarcely touched, we have been

constantly on the verge of bankruptcy. So it was when the late king,

Peter II., ascended the throne, and our masters appeared to think that

the time had come to complete their conquest. Of course he was a

pensioner of Scythia, like his predecessors, but he was also a man of

pleasure. When the country had been drained of money to supply his

whims, he was forced to turn to Scythia once more. Money was granted

him, but only for a consideration. One by one the highest posts in the

army and Court were filled with Scythians, and it was of no use for

the Thracians to complain. The Sertchaieff Ministry was in power, and

as matters grew worse, its members clung the more closely to their

places, fearing the result of any change for themselves. Then a chance

incident caused an explosion----”

“It was connected with your own election to the Legislative Assembly,

was it not?” asked Usk.

“It was, milord. I had been absent from my country for many years,

owing to my having once taken part in a meeting of those who wished to

bring about a reform by means of constitutional agitation. I was a

young man when I threw in my lot with the reformers, and had just

begun to practise at the bar, but I was obliged to leave Thracia, and

sacrifice all my prospects. My years of exile were not wasted. I

travelled, I worked, I associated with earnest men--and I found my

country a byword everywhere. At last I could endure it no longer, and

I made up my mind to set on foot one more effort to stir up my

compatriots to a sense of their degradation. I returned to Thracia,

and found myself received with joy, yet with fear, by my old friends

and by the younger generation of patriots that had sprung up. Once

more we set ourselves to form a constitutional party, and to educate

public opinion. Our objects were simple,--the dismissal of the

Scythians who had been thrust into public offices, the reform of the

whole corrupt administration, the discontinuance of the system of

borrowing, and the gradual repayment of our debt to Scythia out of the

money saved by reducing expenses and gained by the proper development

of the country. We were quite ignorant of the extent to which our

views found favour among the people, but we determined upon a bold

stroke--in order both to advertise our programme and to show us how we

were supported. The Elections were approaching, and we resolved to

contest every seat for which we could find a candidate. The

Administration was utterly taken by surprise, but its members

perceived that their salvation lay in striking at once, and they chose

to begin with me. I was elected by a large majority for the

constituency to which I offered myself, but my election was declared

void by a Government decree, and a fresh poll was announced. Troops

were drafted into the town, nominally to preserve the peace, in

reality to force my constituents to vote for the Government candidate,

and vast numbers of persons crowded in from the country districts,

drawn by the prospect of a tumult. I was passing through the

market-place when a band of my supporters called upon me for a speech.

Then, milord, I felt a strange fire seize me. I remembered the effect,

long before, of my speech to the meeting for taking part in which I

was exiled. I remembered that in my days as barrister I had often

moved the court to tears and to indignation. It was merely a flash of

memory, but with it came the impulse to act. I sought a place from

which to speak--I climbed upon a country cart--I spoke--I heard the

people shouting--the Government agent ordered the soldiers to arrest

me--I saw them pushing their way through the crowd--they closed round

me, dragged me down--I appealed to the bystanders--I was rescued--I

spoke again, and raised the cry of Reform. Before I knew what had

happened I was at the head of a revolution, the people had put

themselves under my guidance, the troops had joined us, the Government

agent was seeking the means for flight. By my orders he was captured

and lodged in prison--I seemed to perceive at once what was to be

done. The telegraph-office was seized, no message allowed to be sent

but by my authority. To each of our candidates for the Assembly I

telegraphed what had happened, and his orders. A brief pause to

concert my plans with my chief supporters, and we were in motion

again. The news spread through the country like wildfire; in a short

time the whole army was with us, and the people were thronging to us

in enormous numbers. We marched to Bellaviste, and entered the city

without striking a blow. When we laid before the king our demands for

a change of Ministry and a new constitution, he preferred to abdicate

rather than grant them. We were nothing loath, and he has retired to

the south of France on a suitable income. A provisional government was

formed, and has remained in power, supported by the whole force of the

national sentiment, for nearly a year. The success of our movement was

due to its spontaneity. If we had prepared for it, Scythia would have

gained some inkling of our plan, and might have out-plotted us, but

she could not without any excuse interfere with the accomplished fact.

In the very first moment of our freedom we ranged Pannonia on our side

by making overtures to her for the conclusion of a commercial treaty

which had hitherto been hindered by the intrigues of Scythia. To

Scythia we were able to guarantee, through the good offices, secretly

exercised, of Pannonia, the regular payment of her interest, and the

gradual extinction of the debt itself, while the dismissed officials

received honourable terms. It was not easy to arrange all this, for at

first we found it difficult to obtain money, and the Thracians are

hot-blooded and had much to avenge, but I would not remain at their

head except with their promise to acquiesce in my decisions. Balancing

Pannonia against Scythia in this way, we have passed through a year of

national life, although Scythia refuses to recognise us, and has

worked upon our suzerain, Roum, to withhold from us up to the present

time the right we claim of choosing our own form of government.”

“Then, if that right were conceded, you would proclaim a republic?”

“Certainly not, milord. I myself might approve of such a step

theoretically, but our people are not ripe for it, and not only

Scythia, but Pannonia and the other friendly or neutral Powers, would

be alienated by the idea. I look around me on the present chaotic

state of the country, at the new Thracia which is rising out of the

ruins of the old, and I see that it would be impossible for any man

popularly elected to introduce the necessary reforms unless he were

guaranteed dictatorial powers for a term of years; and for this we

cannot hope. In spite of our marvellous success hitherto, we are not

perfect, nor even unanimous, and there are many divisions and

jealousies among us.”

“It shows great self-abnegation on your part to give up the idea of a

republic,” said Usk, “for you yourself would be the only possible

President.”

“I fear you rate my moral qualities too highly, milord. The presidency

would not be a bed of roses. Even as matters now stand, my life has

already been attempted three times, and if I were President, Scythia

would never rest until she had--well, brought about my removal, and

had plunged Thracia into such a state of anarchy as might seem to

justify her in the sight of Europe in interfering to restore order.

Besides, I am a Thracian, one of the people, and they need some one

who is above them and outside them to rule them at present. This is

the reason why we are seeking to re-establish the monarchy on a

constitutional basis. This is the reason why I have come to England to

offer the crown of Thracia to you, Milord Usk.”

“Come to offer the crown to me!” repeated Usk, stupidly.

“I will not disguise from you, milord,” said M. Drakovics, bringing

his head very close to his hearer’s, and speaking low and earnestly,

“that we have made many attempts to obtain a king from the different

reigning families of Europe. It was at first our great hope that we

might secure one of the younger members of the English royal house,

but this honour has been absolutely refused to us, and it was the same

with several German princely families. We offered the crown to Prince

Otto Georg of Schwarzwald-Molzau, the King of Mœsia’s cousin, whose

family were willing that he should accept it, but he considered that

the kingdom was likely to be too troublesome to be agreeable. We had

even thought of a French prince, but there is the religious

difficulty----”

“But I do not belong to the Greek Church, and I have no intention of

joining it,” interrupted Usk.

“We could accept a Protestant, milord, but a Roman Catholic would be

impossible.”

“But I am not even remotely connected with royalty,” objected Usk

again.

“It is the boast of you English nobles that you are on a level with

any of the princely houses of the Continent that are not absolutely

royal,” said M. Drakovics, “and you are far richer.”

“Not our family, at any rate,” said Usk, with a shrug. “But I have had

no experience in governing. Why don’t you ask some one who has been

Viceroy of India or Lord Lieutenant of Ireland?”

“Because they are old, milord, and you are young: our young nation

needs a young man at its head. But you are not a novice in the affairs

of State. Who is so fit to introduce constitutional principles into

Thracia as a member of the British House of Commons--one, moreover,

who has shown himself friendly to any reasonable reform judiciously

and fairly carried out? Nor would you find the actual work of

governing a very difficult matter. I, who have been said to be the

Revolution, am now the Government. I make the laws, and then commend

them to the people, and this would continue to be the case as long as

I was so happy as to retain your confidence, while you acted as the

visible head of the Government and the sign of the unity of the

nation.”

“As the figurehead, in fact?” said Usk.

“Precisely, milord.”

“But you ought to have a soldier, and I am not one.”

“You are an officer of Volunteer cavalry, and that is sufficient.”

“You seem to know a good deal about me.”

“It is natural to study deeply the history of one’s future king,

milord, and you appear to be better fitted for the high post I offer

you than any of the other noblemen to whom my thoughts have turned.”

“But this is absurd!” cried Usk. “You must know that I should not be

allowed to entertain such an idea for a moment. Our Government would

put a stop to it instantly. It would be high treason,

treaty-breaking--I don’t know what.”

“The matter is a secret, milord. Once in Thracia, and crowned, your

Government could scarcely bring you back.”

“Do you expect me to give up my own country--make myself an outlaw, in

fact--for the sake of your precious Thracia?”

“Yes, milord,” said M. Drakovics, steadily, “that is what I do expect.

You are the very man for us--by reason of your personal advantages

especially. Our people worship tall fair men, for they recall to them

the heroes of their legends. Then you are descended from a great house

of warriors. Milord your father fought in the Crimea, your grandfather

at Waterloo, and your great-uncle was killed fighting in the cause of

Greek Independence. Again, you are unmarried, but yet you do not share

the tastes of our late lamented sovereign, King Peter Franza, and you

would thus be able to consolidate your dynasty and strengthen your

kingdom by an advantageous matrimonial alliance.”

“That is not the way in which English people are accustomed to look at

marriage,” said Usk, coldly.

“It is the way in which a patriotic king looks at the subject, milord.

I am making no effort to disguise from you the drawbacks of the great

position I offer you. We do not want a pleasure-seeker, but one who

will be a martyr, if need be. We require a man who will give up his

country, his friends, his own happiness--who will be ready either to

live or to die for this Thracia of ours, which we have saved from

Scythia and the Franzas.”

M. Drakovics saw that his words had at last produced something of the

effect he desired. Usk’s head was lifted proudly, and the light of

battle shone in his eyes, but his response was disappointing.

“I will consider the question,” he said.

“Give me your promise, milord. Why should you hesitate? You are not

thinking of palaces and the probable length of your Civil List, I

know, so why not let me feel happy in the certainty that my country’s

future is assured?”

“I must consult my father. He has a right to be told.”

“Come back to Thracia with me, and be crowned, and then tell him. He

will be glad to be spared the trouble of advising you.”

“No, it would not be fair to him. I will let you know some time

to-morrow. Good night,” and he left the room before M. Drakovics could

stop him or even say anything further. His impulse was to get out of

the house at once, and cool his heated brain by walking back to his

lodgings, but he did not like to leave without bidding farewell to Mrs

Sadleir. Entering the drawing-room in search of her, he was accosted

by a man whom he knew slightly as connected in some way with the

‘Daily Chronograph.’

“Nasty sell for you, wasn’t it?” he remarked. Usk stared at him

blankly.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

“Why, this afternoon--about that Bill of yours. Have you forgotten it

already?”

“Oh--my Bill,” repeated Usk, vaguely. “I have been thinking of--of

other things since then. Excuse me, I can’t stay.”

“He looks perfectly dazed,” said the other man to himself. “What can

it be? Has some girl chucked him? No! who’s that talking to Mrs

Sadleir? Drakovics, no less!”

He made his way towards his hostess, arriving just in time to hear her

farewell to Usk.

“Perhaps you will have something to tell me to-morrow, Usk. If so,

look in about three o’clock. I shall be quite alone.”

“Nuts!” muttered the journalist. Then aloud to Mrs Sadleir he added,

“Surely I saw our old friend Drakovics here just now?”

“Yes, he is here to-night,” said the hostess. “We don’t make a fuss

about our foreign guests nowadays, and have receptions at Trentham

House and public festivities for them, you see. They come and go

quietly.”

“Still looking for a king, eh? He has come to England to try and get

hold of the latest royal infant as a ruler for his one-horse State,

hasn’t he?”

Clever woman though she was, Mrs Sadleir could occasionally be

“drawn,” and this the ‘Chronograph’ man knew well. She smiled now

significantly as she answered--

“No, I really don’t think he has designs on the Princess’s baby this

time. What, must you go?”

Indeed he must, post-haste to the ‘Chronograph’ office, bearing news

which set editor, foreign editor, sub-editor, and printer frantically

to work altering and cutting and curtailing the copy already set up in

such a way as to provide room for a column with startling headlines:--

“THE BALKAN QUESTION.

RECONSTRUCTION OF THE THRACIAN MONARCHY.

ROMANTIC CHOICE OF A KING.

CROWN OFFERED TO AN ENGLISH NOBLEMAN.

INTERVIEW WITH VISCOUNT USK, M.P.”

In justice to the journalist, it must be said that the account of the

“interview” was very short, consisting chiefly of the true statement

that Lord Usk had kept his own counsel and declined to discuss the

subject; but the foreign editor and his subordinates supplied a

concise account of Thracia and its history and revolution to fill up

the space, and to gratify the interest and curiosity of the British

public, which developed both these qualities very largely on the

morrow.

Usk was not a subscriber to the ‘Daily Chronograph,’ and his

man-servant, who was, knew his duty far too well to put any questions

to his master in the morning, although there was a flutter of pleased

excitement diversifying his usual sober demeanour, which Usk noticed

with a feeling of miserable surprise.

“Very likely I talked in my sleep,” he said to himself, conscious of

having spent a troubled night, and then he mapped out his plan of

operations for the day. The morning must be spent at the House of

Commons, where he was serving on an important Committee, but in the

afternoon he would run down into Kent, to the country-house at which

his father was staying, and tell Lord Caerleon all about M. Drakovics

and his offer. Having arrived at this decision, he drove to the House

without meeting any of his acquaintances, and did his best to

concentrate his mind on the work of the Committee, although he could

not help glancing furtively at Mr Forfar, who was stretching his long

length a few seats from him, and wondering what he would say if he

knew the honour which the Thracian Government was desirous of

conferring upon his supporter. As it chanced, Mr Forfar had happened

to glance at the ‘Chronograph’ before coming down to the House, and

was now asking himself languidly whether it was Usk or the editor who

had suddenly gone mad, but this Usk did not know. That the secret of

his proposed elevation was not confined to himself, however, he

discovered as he left the committee-room, when one of his friends

rushed past him in a hurry.

“Been reading a lot of lies in the ‘Chronograph’ about you, Usk,” he

cried cheerfully. “What rot those newspaper fellows will put in

sometimes!”

Then it had got about already! Usk was literally unable to muster up

the necessary courage to go and look at the paper, and as he quitted

the House he felt guiltily that the members he met turned to look at

him, and that the policemen who had the advantage of knowing him by

sight were reaping a golden harvest for pointing him out to eager and

ignorant questioners. He wanted to see what the ‘Chronograph’ said

about him, and to know how it had gained its information, but it

seemed much too barefaced a proceeding to walk into a shop and buy a

copy. He would go home, and send his servant out to get one. But when

he reached his lodgings he found that this was unnecessary. In the

arm-chair in his sitting-room sat his father, with a copy of the

delinquent journal in his hand.

“Well, Usk,” said Lord Caerleon, “good morning. May I ask whether this

is true?” and he held out the paper, which was folded in such a way as

to exhibit the headlines to the best advantage.

“I don’t know what they say there,” returned Usk, “but it’s true that

Drakovics invited me last night to become King of Thracia. He said he

came to England on purpose.”

“Ah!” said Lord Caerleon, meditatively. “Seen Cyril this morning?”

“No,” said Usk, surprised by the sudden question.

“Well, I have, and I can tell you what he is doing now. He is going

about with my authority contradicting this report, and talking big

about libel actions against the ‘Daily Chronograph.’”

“That strikes one as rather premature, doesn’t it?” said Usk, and his

father knew by his tone that he was not pleased.

“It has got that appearance,” he said quickly, “but these things

spread so fast, and it had to be stopped before it brought you into

trouble. Look here, Usk, I want you to give this thing up, and I’ll

tell you my reasons.”

“Yes, sir?” and Usk prepared himself to listen.

“Well, the first is that I’m an old man, and I can’t do without you.

My father’s elder brother, your great-uncle, went off to fight for

Greece, as you know, and never came back. I can’t give you up for that

sort of thing at my age. Is that enough for you, Usk?”

“Certainly, if you put it in that way.”

Lord Caerleon’s eyes glistened, but he went on gruffly enough.

“My second reason is that you are not the man for it. Oh, I know that

you would look the part all right, and do your utmost to make the

thing a success, but there’s more worldly wisdom in Cyril’s little

finger than in your whole body. If the fools had only thought of

offering the crown to him, he would be at the head of a Balkan

Confederacy in a month, but you---- The fact is, Usk, you are too

English--you don’t know when you’re beaten. Instead of taking a

licking quietly, you are up again as soon as you come to, and fighting

with all the breath knocked out of you. As for Cyril, he will have

made it up with the other chap after the first round, and started

ahead to choose his own ground, ready for another fight when it’s

necessary, and that time Cyril will win.”

“Shall I advise Drakovics to transfer his offer to Cyril, then?”

“Certainly not. I don’t intend to subsidise a bankrupt Balkan State

out of my rents, and I have no wish that you should be obliged to do

it either. Cyril will come to smash quite soon enough without a crown

to drag him down. He is so sharp that he is bound to go too far some

day. No, Usk, you are the man for it if there was a fair field, but

there isn’t, and I can’t stand your going off and being shot or

dynamited by Scythian agents.”

“But Mrs Sadleir must have known what Drakovics wanted, and yet she

said nothing to dissuade me from accepting the crown.”

“I daresay not. Women are always ready to send out sons and lovers on

forlorn hopes--especially other people’s sons and lovers. It requires

a practical, unromantic man to look into the thing first, and decide

whether the game is worth the candle. Mrs Sadleir is as sensible a

woman generally as any I know, but she has not outlived her

enthusiasms yet, and she is quite ready to give Thracia a king at my

expense, and I don’t see it. When I’m gone, it will be a different

thing. You will have only yourself to please then, but the Thracians

will probably have killed or banished two or three kings, and run

through a few republics, by that time. In any case, I ask you, as a

favour to me, to refuse this offer now.”

“I will write to Drakovics at once,” said Usk, and he did.