I was well aware that, even should my telegram have the good fortune to
catch him at once, Bertram could not reach the capital in less than
twenty-four hours. During that time, however, I had not much leisure to
think of him; I was kept incessantly busy, bidding my guests farewell,
and attending to the various important matters of state, which had
perforce been neglected under the stress of the last few days. Busy as I
was, however, the face of the man I had seen in the crowd was
continually before my eyes. Whenever I went abroad, I scanned the
countenances of the people I met, in the hope that I might discover him
again. But I was not successful. Look as I would I could find no trace
of him. Could I have been mistaken? No! I felt certain I had not. The
man's image had printed itself so firmly upon my memory that I could
entertain no doubt upon the matter. I was still thinking of this when
word was brought to me that my father-in-law elect, the Prince of
Lilienhoehe, had reached the palace and desired an audience. On the
previous day, that is to say, the day of the funeral, I had only time to
salute him. Having received no letter from Ottilie that morning, his
presence was the more welcome. I bade them conduct him to my presence.
"You are surprised to see me," he said, as we shook hands. "I have come
to acquaint you with the fact that Ottilie is in the city."
"Ottilie here?" I cried, my heart leaping at his words. "When did she
arrive?"
"This morning," he answered. "She bids me say that it will give her
great pleasure to see you, whenever you can spare the time to come to
her. When I left the house she was resting after her journey."
The old city looked brighter now that I knew Ottilie was within its
confines. An hour or so later I drove to the Lilienhoehe Palace, where I
found her in her boudoir eagerly awaiting my coming. Never had she
looked more beautiful than at that moment.
"My poor Paul," she said, as I took her in my arms and kissed her, "you
have indeed known great sorrow lately. But, please God, happier times
are in store for us."
She spoke of Max, referring to him as a loving and sorrowing sister
might have done. Her soft voice and tender words soothed me, and when we
walked to the window and looked out upon the great square, I was happier
than I had been for many days. The significance of my action did not at
first strike me, but presently, when a cheer went up from the street
below, and I saw that a crowd had gathered and was watching us, I
realised the thought that was in the public mind. Ottilie would have
drawn back, but I prevented her.
"Let them see us together," I said, and led her a little nearer the
window.
Our action pleased the people below, and cheer after cheer went up.
Suddenly, pushing his way through the crowd, I saw the tall figure of
Bertram. He had, indeed, returned from Zaarfburg with dispatch. Having
learnt my destination at the palace, he had lost no time in following
me. On he came, not perhaps as gently as he might have done. Then I saw
him stop and look towards his left. A moment later he had turned, and
was moving back through the crowd. What could be the matter with him?
With straining eyes I watched him pushing and squeezing his way through
the throng, then I lost sight of him altogether. Had he seen anything of
the man whose whereabouts we were so anxious to discover? I had to wait
for an answer to that question.
At last, my impatience quite getting the better of me, I bade Ottilie
good-bye, and descended to the courtyard, where my carriage was waiting.
Slowly I drove across the yard, and passed out through the great gates.
By this time the crowd was so great that it was only with difficulty
sufficient space could be cleared for my horses to pass through. Cheer
after cheer was given me with the heartiest goodwill. I could see that
my being without equerry or escort gave them pleasure. When we turned
towards the palace I looked back at the house I had just left, and could
see Ottilie's white figure still standing at the window watching me. At
the same moment something white was thrown into the carriage. It was a
letter without address or writing of any description upon the envelope.
"A petition of some sort," I said to myself, and placed it in my pocket
to read at my leisure. As it happened, however, when I reached the
palace I found von Marquart there. Important despatches had reached him
from the war, and a council meeting was to be called without delay.
Though I made inquiries, I could hear nothing of Bertram, save that he
had reached there soon after my departure, and had set off for the
Lilienhoehe Palace in search of me. It was almost evening by the time he
returned, and when he was admitted to my presence there was a look of
disappointment upon his face. I praised his diligence in returning so
quickly on receipt of my message from Zaarfburg, but this did not make
him happy.
"To think that I should have let such a chance slip through my fingers!"
he cried angrily.
"To what do you refer?" I inquired.
"I saw Rodriguez in the crowd outside the Prince of Lilienhoehe's gates
this morning," he answered. "Unfortunately, however, he also saw me.
Only a dozen paces or so separated us, but, try how I would I could not
get near him. I searched the crowd through and through, but he had
managed to give me the slip. I've been hunting the city for him ever
since, but not another sign or trace of him can I discover. What I fear
is, that, as he must be aware that I recognised him, he may derive the
impression that the game is up, and then they will take to flight.
However, with your Majesty's permission, I will go out again to-night
and see if I can run across him."
I readily gave that permission, and then bade him go to his room and
rest, for the poor fellow looked worn out. He promised to do so, and
withdrew. When he had gone I crossed to my writing-table, and sat down
before it. The letter which had been thrown into the carriage that
morning lay before me.
Scarcely conscious of what I was doing I opened it. On the paper I drew
from the envelope were about five lines of writing, which read as
follows:
"If it is desired to find that which is lost, hasten to the Buchengasse;
enter the fifth house on the right-hand side, and proceed up the stairs
to the room on the top floor, overlooking the street, and there will be
found that for which you are seeking."
That was all. But the effect it produced upon me I must leave you to
imagine. I rang my bell violently.
"Request Herr Bertram to come to me immediately," I said to the servant
who appeared in answer to it. Then, when the door had been closed behind
the man, I read the message again. Was it a hoax? or was it an attempt
to draw us into a trap? Whichever it might be, I was determined to see
the matter through. A few minutes later, for he had not had time to
retire to rest, Bertram put in an appearance. His quick eye saw that
something unusual had happened.
"What is it, your Majesty?" he inquired. "I can see that you have had
some news."
"Read that," I said, handing him the letter.
He took it, and did as I commanded.
"Thank God!" I heard him mutter when he had carefully perused the
contents of the note.
"What do you think of it?" I inquired. "Can it be true?"
"Let us hope so," he replied. "At any rate, it would be as well for me
to go to the house and make certain."
"Yes," I answered; "and I will accompany you. We will start at once."
"Is it wise for your Majesty to come?" Bertram asked anxiously. "If you
will entrust the errand to me----"
"It is useless for you to argue," I answered sharply. "My mind is made
up, and go with you I must, and will. Prepare yourself, and return
here."
Seeing that it would be a waste of time to expostulate further, he
departed without another word. Ten minutes or so later we had left the
palace by the same door which had witnessed our departure into exile so
many years before. Before leaving the palace I had taken the precaution
to slip a revolver into my pocket, and, on inquiry, I found that Bertram
had done the same. If we were to be the victims of a conspiracy, we
should at least be able to render a good account of ourselves. Having
crossed the great square, and passed the Lilienhoehe Palace, in the
windows of which many lights still showed themselves, we steered for the
southern portion of the city, where we had discovered the Buchengasse
was situated. It was not a savoury neighbourhood, I had been given to
understand, and certainly, when we had left the more fashionable portion
of the town behind us, we found ourselves in a quarter where the streets
were narrow, and the houses far from prepossessing. Muffled up as we
were, it was scarcely likely that anyone would have recognised us, even
had the thoroughfares been thronged with pedestrians. As it was,
however, they were well-nigh deserted, and for this reason we were able
to reach the street, for which we were directing our steps without
hindrance.
"This is evidently the one," I said, as we turned into a narrow alley,
which was, if anything, darker and more unsavoury than those through
which we had hitherto been walking. "Now we have to discover the fifth
house on the right-hand side."
We accordingly proceeded down it, counting the houses as we went. They
were tall, rambling edifices, and must have ranked amongst the oldest in
the city. The upper stories projected far beyond the lower, so that, the
street itself being narrow, the roofs were almost within touching
distance of each other. One solitary lamp illumined it, but that might
as well have been dispensed with, for the wind-tossed jet of flame only
served to make the place look even more desolate than before. Number
five differed from its fellows in the fact that it was, if possible,
dirtier and more uncared for than the remainder of the houses. A faint
light shone from one of the upper windows, but the lower portion of the
house was in total darkness. Approaching the door, I knocked upon it
with my stick. No answer, however, rewarded us. I did so again, with the
same result. Once more I knocked; this time with greater success. The
first-floor window of the adjoining house was opened, and a man's head
appeared.
"What do you want?" said its owner. "This is not the time of night to
come banging at peaceable folk's doors."
"We want to gain admittance to this house," I replied, as if it were the
most natural thing in the world. "Is there anyone in it?"
"Nobody," the man replied. "He who was there went away this afternoon.
He left the key with me."
"In that case, I beg you will be good enough to give it to me."
"Not till I know you are the right man," he answered. "The fellow said I
was to be sure to only hand it to one person. Have you got the letter he
sent you?"
"I have," I hastened to reply, producing the letter from my pocket as I
spoke. "Here it is."
When I had passed it up to him he withdrew with it into the room again,
to reappear a few moments later with the letter and a key in his hand.
"I suppose it's all right," he said. "At any rate, I'll risk it. Bear in
mind, however, that I know nothing of the business that brings you here.
I'm only following his instructions."
I took the key and inserted it in the lock. Then we entered the house,
and Bertram struck a match and lit a taper he had brought with him.
Holding the revolver in my right hand, in case it should be wanted, I
passed into the room opening out of the little passage. It was
untenanted, save by a mouse, that scuttled away across the floor on
seeing us. Finding nothing to reward us there, we passed out into the
passage again, and made for the flight of stairs at the further end. The
letter had mentioned the top floor, and for this reason our failure to
find anything in this room did not disappoint us.
"We must look higher," I whispered to Bertram as we began our climb. The
next floor, however, was as barren as its predecessor, and now only the
top remained to us. The last flight of stairs was somewhat narrower than
the others, and there was an awkward turn in it, which would have been
just the spot to have served as a hiding-place for an enemy. We passed
it, however, in safety, and at last stood upon the top landing of that
strange house. Here there were only two doors. One was in the rear,
while the other overlooked the street. Once more recalling the wording
of the letter, we decided upon investigating the latter room first. This
must be the chamber in which the light we had observed from the street
was located. Our revolvers ready in our hands, we approached the door,
and I turned the handle.
When we entered the room it was a strange and terrible picture we had
before us. The room was only a small one. Its furniture consisted of a
bed and two chairs, one of which was overturned upon the floor, a large
box, which also served as a table, a bucket, and a number of medicine
bottles. Upon the bed lay the body of poor Max, while, half-supported
upon the bed and half-resting upon the floor, was the figure of a man
lying face downwards. Stepping softly across the room, as if I feared I
might wake them, I approached the stranger, for a stranger to me he
certainly was. By this time Bertram had also approached the bed, and was
leaning over me in order to examine him. Suddenly he uttered a cry and
staggered back, as if he had received a blow.
"My God!" he cried. "What does this mean? Am I going mad?"
"What is it, man?" I inquired, springing to my feet and wondering what
fresh horror he was going to bring to light.
Once more he advanced towards the bed. His face was ashen in its pallor
as he stooped over the dead man.
"It's Moreas!" he said. "Good God, it's Moreas!"
"Moreas!" I repeated, as if I could scarcely believe I heard aright.
"How can it be Moreas? Did you not tell me that Max shot him on the
plains where they found the diamonds?"
"Yet it is Moreas sure enough," Bertram asserted, still speaking in the
same strained voice. "And see, he has been stabbed from behind. This is
Rodriguez's handiwork."
He continued to stare from one dead man to the other, as if he were
still unable to comprehend the situation. As for me, I had no attention
to spare for anyone or anything save that I had once more recovered what
had been lost, and that I must act without loss of time. At last I made
up my mind as to what was best to be done.
"Return to the palace at once," I said to Bertram, who by this time had
somewhat recovered his presence of mind, "and send Strekwitz to me.
Afterwards go on to the Count von Marquart's house. He must see the
archbishop and arrange the matter of the real burial without delay. It
must take place within the next few hours; at any rate, before dawn. Go
now as quickly as you can, and when you have seen them return to me
here."
"But to leave your Majesty here with----" he began.
I cut him short.
"Never mind me," I replied. "I shall be quite safe. Hasten away to
fulfil your errand. There is no time to lose."
Very reluctantly he did as I commanded him, and I heard him go down the
stairs and presently leave the house.
In something less than an hour Strekwitz arrived with Bertram following
close upon his heels. The latter had seen Von Marquart, who, in his
turn, had set off to arrange matters with the archbishop. Within an hour
of our entering the room for the first time, everything was settled.
From Von Marquart, who received us at the archbishop's palace, I learnt
that the good old man had been greatly pained at the news the count had
communicated to him. Nevertheless, he was quite agreed that the course
we had adopted was the best, both for State and personal reasons.
Realising that the fewer people who became cognisant of our secret the
less chance there would be of its becoming public property, he took the
direction of affairs into his own hands. It was he who unlocked the
postern door and admitted our party to the cathedral. It was he who
waited with me in the sacristy while the necessary arrangements were
being made for the interment, and who conducted me through the great
building, so vast and eerie in the light of the lantern he carried in
his hand, into the little chapel near the vault. A short service
followed, then Maximilian of Pannonia was carried by loving hands, and
placed in his last resting-place in the vaults below. When all was over,
like a band of conspirators we left the cathedral, and with the
archbishop's blessing ringing in my ears, I returned to the palace, to
obtain what rest I could before I should be called upon to begin the
duties of the day. Dawn was breaking as we let ourselves in; a soft grey
light stole across the heavens like an augury of still happier days to
come.
And now a few words of explanation before I put down my pen.
It was only after the most careful inquiries had been made, and when we
had put together the various items of information we had been able to
obtain, that we were in a position to derive any notion as to how,
where, and why the dastardly plot, that had caused me so much
unhappiness, had been carried out. That Max had not shot Moreas in
Brazil, as he had imagined, was only too certain; though how the latter
managed to escape from the plain, and ultimately to track his enemy to
Zaarfburg, is not quite clear. One thing is certain, however. He must
have discovered Rodriguez, possibly in Rio de Janeiro, have heard from
him of the curious marks Max had cut upon his chest, after leaving the
plain, and having convinced himself that they referred to the cache of
diamonds, he had determined to spare no effort to get possession of the
information he required. Unfortunately for his own schemes, he fell ill
in Pannonia, _en route_ to Zaarfburg. Finding himself unable to push on,
Rodriguez was dispatched to the city in hot haste. On the night of his
arrival the body was stolen from the clockmaker's house, with the
assistance of one of the family, who had been heavily bribed. Pretending
that it was the body of his brother, who had perished in the war, he
brought it to the capital, and to the house where Moreas lay hidden in
the Buchengasse. There the latter was able to read the signs, which were
unintelligible to Rodriguez, for the reason that he was not familiar
with the topography of that villainous plain. What happened after that
is only conjecture. Doubtless, the two men had quarrelled, when
Rodriguez, taking advantage of an opportunity that presented itself,
stabbed the other in the back, and then fled for his life. And so ends
the life story of my brother, the man I loved best in the world; he who,
had he lived, would have been Maximilian, King of Pannonia.
And now, as it is possible there may be some who have been induced to
take an interest in myself and my fortunes, let me bring my long story
to a close by saying that if there is any country in Europe that boasts
a happier sovereign than does Pannonia, I do not know it. No man's life,
however, is altogether free from trouble; but in these days, thank God,
I fancy I have less than most men. I have a good wife and happy, healthy
children, the eldest of whom, little Max, bids fair to equal his
ever-lamented uncle, the National Hero, in disposition and good looks.
In one thing, however, he differs from poor Max; low down between his
eyebrows are two curious little lines, that form something not unlike a
cross.
"Superstition or not," says my sweet wife, "I can only say that I am
glad it is there."
Then for my edification she proceeds to recite the old distich:--
"Pannonia's King shall surely sit
So long as Michael's cross doth fit."
THE END.
Ward, Lock & Co.'s SEVENPENNY NOVELS.
1 The Garden of Lies by JUSTUS M. FORMAN
2 Anna, the Adventuress by E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM
3 Rainbow Island by LOUIS TRACY
4 The Beautiful White Devil by GUY BOOTHBY
5 The Impostor by HAROLD BINDLOSS
6 The Lodestar by MAX PEMBERTON
7 A Study in Scarlet by A. CONAN DOYLE
8 Young Lord Stranleigh by ROBERT BARR
9 The Mother by EDEN PHILLPOTTS
10 The Crimson Blind by FRED M. WHITE
11 When I Was Czar by A. W. MARCHMONT
12 In White Raiment by WM. LE QUEUX
13 Not Proven by A. AND C. ASKEW
14 A Maker of History by E. P. OPPENHEIM
15 Buchanan's Wife by JUSTUS M. FORMAN
16 The Pillar of Light by LOUIS TRACY
17 A Bid for Fortune by GUY BOOTHBY
18 The Dust of Conflict by HAROLD BINDLOSS
19 The Day of Temptation by WM. LE QUEUX
20 Two Bad Blue Eyes by "RITA"
21 Mr. Wingrave, Millionaire by E. P. OPPENHEIM
22 The Corner House by FRED M. WHITE
23 In Strange Company by GUY BOOTHBY
24 The Sporting Chance by A. AND C. ASKEW
25 The Gold Wolf by MAX PEMBERTON
26 A Damaged Reputation by HAROLD BINDLOSS
27 The Soul of Gold by JUSTUS M. FORMAN
28 The Marriage of Esther by GUY BOOTHBY
29 By Wit of Woman by A. W. MARCHMONT
30 Lady Barbarity by J. C. SNAITH
31 The Secret by E. P. OPPENHEIM
32 The Wheel of Fortune by LOUIS TRACY
33 The Slave of Silence by FRED M. WHITE
34 Darby and Joan by "RITA"
35 The Red Chancellor by SIR WM. MAGNAY
36 The Temptress by WM. LE QUEUX
37 Pro Patria by MAX PEMBERTON
38 The Fascination of the King by GUY BOOTHBY
39 Wild Sheba by A. AND C. ASKEW
40 By Snare of Love by A. W. MARCHMONT
41 Beneath Her Station by HAROLD BINDLOSS
42 Hope, My Wife by L. G. MOBERLY
43 The Missioner by E. P. OPPENHEIM
44 The Message of Fate by LOUIS TRACY
45 The Wayfarers by J. C. SNAITH
46 Tommy Carteret by JUSTUS M. FORMAN
47 Dr. Nikola by GUY BOOTHBY
48 The Sundial by FRED M. WHITE
49 Wiles of the Wicked by WM. LE QUEUX
50 Across the World for a Wife by GUY BOOTHBY
51 A Lost Leader by E. P. OPPENHEIM
52 The Etonian by A. AND C. ASKEW
53 His Lady's Pleasure by HAROLD BINDLOSS
54 A Courier of Fortune by A. W. MARCHMONT
55 Journeys End by JUSTUS M. FORMAN
56 Pharos the Egyptian by GUY BOOTHBY
57 Lord Stranleigh, Philanthropist by ROBERT BARR
58 Heart of Gold by L. G. MOBERLY
59 Netta by FRED M. WHITE
60 Sylvia's Chauffeur by LOUIS TRACY
61 The Trifler by ARCHIBALD EYRE
62 An Eye for an Eye by WM. LE QUEUX
63 The Governors by E. P. OPPENHEIM
64 The Stolen Lady by A. AND C. ASKEW
65 Hawtrey's Deputy by HAROLD BINDLOSS
66 The Queen's Advocate by A. W. MARCHMONT
67 A Maker of Nations by GUY BOOTHBY
68 As We Forgive Them by WM. LE QUEUX
69 A Millionaire of Yesterday by E. P. OPPENHEIM
70 A Red Red Rose by KATHARINE TYNAN
71 A Crime on Canvas by FRED M. WHITE
72 Long Live the King by GUY BOOTHBY
73 Ravenshaw of Rietholme by BERTRAM MITFORD
74 The King of Diamonds by LOUIS TRACY
75 The World's Great Snare by E. P. OPPENHEIM