THE BROKEN TREATY
Alec unlocked the door. The laconic Bosko returned his all sufficing
"_Oui, monsieur_," to the request that he would bring Mademoiselle
Joan's French maid to Princess Delgrado, since it was in Alec's mind
that Pauline might be discreet.
Prince Michael, Beliani, Marulitch, and Nesimir had already formed
themselves into a whispering group. Stampoff was seated apart, morose
and thoughtful. The old man's elbows rested on his knees and his chin
was propped between his bony fists. Princess Delgrado had flung herself
forward on the table. Her face was hidden by her outstretched arms. This
attitude of abandonment, the clenched hands, the convulsive heaving of
her shoulders, were eloquent of tempest tossed emotions. She looked so
forlorn that her son was tempted to return to her side without delay;
but instead he walked quietly toward the four men clustered in the
center of the room. They started apart and faced him nervously. It
seemed that even yet they feared lest some uncontrolled gust of anger
might lead Alec to fling himself blindly upon them. Had they but known
it, he despised them too greatly to think of mauling them.
"Gentlemen," he said, "I have one small request to make. Give me your
word of honor--I will take it for what it is worth--that to-night's
happenings shall remain unknown to the outer world, and that there will
be no interference with my mother or myself before we leave Delgratz."
Prince Michael, who had recovered some of his jauntiness, looked at Alec
with the crafty eye of a cowed hyena; but he said coolly, "There is
nothing to be gained by publishing our blunders to all the world."
"Have I your promise?" insisted Alec.
"Yes."
"And yours?" he said to Marulitch.
"Of course I agree," came the ready answer. "I, like Prince Michael,
feel that it would be folly----"
"Prince Michael!" snarled the royal Delgrado. "You must learn to school
your tongue, Julius! From this moment I am King of Kosnovia. Let there
be no manner of doubt about that!"
Alec might not have heard the blusterer. His calm glance fell on
Beliani. "And what say you?" he asked.
"I agree most fully and unreservedly," murmured the Greek, conveying,
with a deep bow, his respectful regret that such an assurance should be
necessary. The greatly perturbed President had already quitted the room;
so Alec turned to Stampoff. His manner was quite friendly. Well he knew
that this fiery soul was not to be judged by the Delgrado standard.
"I will not inflict on you, my trusty comrade," he said, "the indignity
of a demand that I felt was imperative in the case of some others
present. Let us shake hands and think rather of what we have gone
through together when I was King and you were my most loyal supporter,
than of the poor climax to my brief reign that reveals me as an
impostor."
Those keen eyes were raised in a half-formed resolution. "Is it too
late, Alec?" he growled sullenly.
"For what?"
Alec's smile of surprise was the only bit of affectation he had indulged
in that night. The fantasy flitting through Stampoff's brain was not
hidden from him; but he wanted to dismiss it lightly.
"God's bones! Need you ask? Say but the word, and you will be more
firmly established on the throne than ever. Trust me to find means to
still those babbling tongues!" and Stampoff flung out an arm in the
direction of the uncle and nephew, each manifestly anxious to hurry
away, yet each so distrustful of the other that he dared not go.
"Paul, you are incorrigible," said Alec. "You ought to have been a
marshal under Napoleon, who would have had no scruples. No, you will not
see civil war in the streets of Delgratz as to whether a Delgrado or an
American adventurer shall reign in Kosnovia. Yet, I thank you for the
thought. It shows that you, at least, do not rate me poorly, and it is
not in my heart to be vexed with you, though I owe this night's
amazement to your striving."
"Be just, Alec!" whispered the Serb hoarsely. "Condemn me if you will;
but be just! While Michael Delgrado lived, your reign would never have
been secure. I knew that all along. You will go away now and marry the
girl of your choice, and soon the memories of this downtrodden country
will be dim in your soul; but think what would have happened to you, to
your wife, and perhaps to your children, if Michael one day blurted out
the truth in some fit of drunken rage, or if Beliani and that other
white faced hound obtained evidence of your birth. That is why I was
resolved to force you, if possible, to wed a Serbian Princess. Your
marriage to a woman of our own race would have borne down opposition.
And now what will happen? The future is black. Michael is unworthy to be
a King; Marulitch, at the best, is a poor-spirited wretch; and after
them there is no Delgrado."
"Well, I am sorry, too, in a way," said Alec. "I was beginning to love
these Kosnovian folk, and I think I could have made something of them.
Good-by, Paul. If we never meet again, at least we part good friends."
Stampoff rose and silently wrung Alec's hand. He walked straight out of
the room with bent head and slow uncertain steps. For the hour his
fierce spirit was chastened. He had done that which he thought would
make for good, and it had turned out ill. His single minded scheming had
gone awry. Another man in his position might have sought to curry favor
with the new regime, whether of Michael or Julius; but Stampoff was not
of that mettle; he wanted Alec to be King, because he believed in him,
and now the edifice for which he had labored so ardently had tumbled in
pieces about his ears.
Pauline came, and Alec went to his mother. He took her tenderly in his
arms.
"Come, dear!" he said. "Joan's maid will help you to reach your room.
Our train leaves at midnight, and Bosko and Pauline will give your maid
any help she needs in collecting your belongings."
The Princess raised her grief stricken face to his, and it wrung his
heart anew to see how that night of misery had aged her.
"Oh, my son, my son!" she murmured. "Will you ever forgive me?"
He kissed her with a hearty and reassuring hug. "Forgive you, mother!"
he cried. "It is not I, but you, who have suffered through all these
years. Have no fear for the future! Joan and I will make you happy."
"But she, Alec! What will she say when she learns the wrong I have done
you?"
"What! Afraid of Joan?" cried he cheerfully. "Why, you dear old mother,
Joan is taking all the blame on her own shoulders. You will find she
agrees with me that you are the one to be pitied. You made a mistake
for which you have paid very dearly; but in no possible way can it
affect the remainder of our lives. There now, cheer up and prepare for
your journey!"
The Princess left the room leaning on Pauline's arm, nor, in passing,
did she bestow a glance on her husband. Prince Michael indulged in an
ostentatious shrug, and might have said something had not Alec's gaze
dwelt on him steadily. It is to be presumed that, not for the first
time, discretion conquered Michael's valor.
"A word with you, Beliani," said Alec, going to the table and unlocking
the drawer from which he had taken the money given to Sobieski. "You are
now in charge of the State's finances, I presume. I have here a sum,
roughly speaking, of one thousand pounds. To some extent, it is my own
money; but the greater part consists of instalments of the salary of
five thousand dollars a year I allowed myself as King. Do you think I
have earned it?"
The Greek could only mutter a surprised, "Yes. Who would deny your right
to a far larger amount?"
"Having your sanction, then, I take it," said Alec coolly. "Here too is
my passport, issued in Paris, for which I believe I am indebted to you.
It will now come in handy. May I ask in whose charge I leave the books
and papers on this table? Some of them may be of use to the State."
"I am afraid I cannot answer that question," muttered the Greek, with a
stealthy glance in the direction of the rival candidates.
"Well, settle it among yourselves," said Alec dryly. "Now I must be
off."
Without another word he passed from the room that had witnessed his
triumph and his fall. Yet his face was remarkably cheerful when he asked
an attendant if Lord Adalbert Beaumanoir's whereabouts was known. The
quiet elation in his manner led the man to believe that some specially
pleasing news had transpired during the conclave in the royal bureau.
It appeared that his Excellency, the English milord, had gone to the
music hall in the Koenigstrasse with a friend.
"Then send some one to say that he is wanted here at once," said Alec.
"Yes, your Majesty."
"Your Majesty!" How incongruous the two words sounded now in Alec's
ears! By a trick of memory his thoughts flew back to the Montmartre
review wherein the stage prototypes of the Parisian band of exiled
monarchs addressed each other by high sounding titles and incidentally
sought to borrow five-franc pieces.
"If I possessed some literary skill, I could write a review that would
set the world talking," he mused, smiling to himself as he ascended the
stairs to his own suite.
"What is the matter, old chap?" demanded Beaumanoir, strolling into his
friend's dressing room a few minutes later. Lord Adalbert never hurried
unless he was on horseback. He was in evening dress, and an opera hat
was set rakishly on the back of his head. He was smoking, his hands were
thrust into his pockets, and the mere sight of him served again to
remind Alec of the larger world in whose daily round Kosnovia and its
troubles filled so insignificant a part.
In an oddly jubilant mood, Alec took a pencil and wrote in large
characters on Beaumanoir's immaculate shirt front, "Paris--with care."
His chum read. "The answer is?" he asked.
"We are leaving Delgratz to-night, Berty. That is all."
"You don't say!" He glanced down at the label. "Is this the address?"
"Yes."
Beaumanoir screwed his cigar firmly into the corner of his mouth. "I am
pretty rapid myself, Alec," he grinned; "but you are too sudden
altogether. Tell me just what you mean, there's a dear fellow."
"I take it you don't want to remain here without me, Berty," said Alec
cheerily, "and I am off. I chucked up my job half an hour ago. Joan and
Felix started by the mail train that left here at half-past five. We
follow at midnight. My mother goes with us. As Bosko is giving her maid
a hand in the packing, I must look after my own traps. Nesimir's
servants would talk, which is just what I want to avoid. The two days
in the train will give you plenty of time to learn the harrowing
details. I have a pretty story for you; but it must wait. I am not
cracked, nor sprung, nor trying to be funny; so you need not look at me
in that way. I am out of business as a King, for good and all, and the
sooner I cross the frontier, the better it will be for my health."
"Honor bright, Alec?"
"Every syllable. Now, get a hustle on!"
There was a tap at the door, and a servant entered with a note for the
King. It was from Constantine Beliani, and written in French.
Prince Michael and Count Julius Marulitch have decided that, in the
interests of the State, you ought to make a formal abdication of
the throne, appointing the former as your successor, with special
remainder to Count Julius.
I agree with them that this offers the best way out of an
unfortunate situation, and I would respectfully point out the
urgency that is attached to the proposal if you still contemplate
leaving Delgratz to-night.
Alec bent his brows over this curt missive, which was not couched
precisely in the suave words that might be expected from the Greek. Read
between the lines, its meaning was significant. Michael and his nephew,
hungering for the spoils, had patched up a truce. They were already
contemplating another military pronunciamento, and Beliani, having made
his own terms, was lending his influence.
If their demands were refused, Alec might find himself a prisoner, and
the country would be plunged into a revolution. Under different
conditions, he would gladly have measured his wits and his popularity
against the triumvirate. A call to arms would win him the support of the
great majority of the troops and of nearly all the younger officers. But
a fight for a throne to which he had no claim was not to be thought of;
yet he was adamant in his resolve not to advance the schemes of these
rogues by any written statement.
He handed the note to Beaumanoir with a quiet laugh. "There you have the
story in a nutshell," he said. "A few minutes ago I became aware that I
am not Prince Michael's son. Although I strove to act fairly, my worthy
stepfather is not content. He thinks to force my hand, because he fears
the republican idea; but I may best him yet.
"Where is Monsieur Nesimir?" he said to the servant, to whom the English
conversation was a sealed book.
"In his apartments, I believe, your Majesty."
"Have instructions been given for mounted orderlies to be in readiness?"
"I heard his Excellency Prince Michael say something of the sort to the
officer of the guard, your Majesty."
The random shot had told. Alec felt that he was spinning a coin with
fortune.
"That is right," he said coolly. "Give my compliments to Monsieur
Beliani, and ask him to oblige me by coming here for a moment; Prince
Michael and Count Marulitch, too. Tell all three that I am ready to
attend at once to the matter mentioned in Monsieur Beliani's note."
The servant disappeared. Beaumanoir, who, of course, did not understand
the instructions given to the man, was fumigating Beliani's letter with
rapid puffs of smoke, and incidentally scratching the back of his right
ear.
"Rum go this, Alec!" he began.
"Not a word now. You'll stand by me, Berty, I know. Go to my mother's
suite and tell Bosko I want him instantly. Bid him bring a brace of
revolvers, and see that they are loaded. Come here yourself with some
ropes, leather straps, anything that will serve to truss a man securely,
as soon as you are sure that Michael, Julius, and the Greek are safely
in the room."
Beaumanoir scented a row. Lest any words of his might stop it, he
vanished. He must have hurried, too, since Bosko had joined his master
before Beliani's messenger reached the anxious conspirators with Alec's
answer. There was no need to ask if the Albanian had brought the
weapons. They were tucked ostentatiously in his belt. Alec looked him
squarely in the eyes.
"I think I can depend on you, Bosko," said he.
"_Oui, monsieur._"
"Understand, then, that I am no longer King of Kosnovia. I am not Prince
Michael's son. I mean to leave Delgratz to-night, and there is a plot
on foot to prevent my departure except on terms to which I shall not
agree. Will you help me to defeat it?"
"_Oui, monsieur._"
"Within the next minute I shall probably have visitors. They may show
fight, though I doubt it, I want you to place those two pistols among
the clothes in that portmanteau, and be busy, apparently, in arranging
its contents. When I close the door, you must spring up and cover them
with both revolvers. Do not shoot without my command; but make it clear
by your manner that their lives are at your mercy. Will you do this?"
"_Oui, monsieur_," said Bosko.
"Here they are, then. Be ready!"
The door was ajar, and footsteps sounded on the stairs. Some one
knocked.
"Come in," said Alec cordially.
Beliani was the first to enter. He pushed the door wide open to assure
himself that he was not walking into a trap. He saw Bosko on his knees,
rummaging in a trunk, and Alec standing in the middle of the room,
lighting a cigarette.
"Come in," said Alec again. "My departure is rather hurried, as you
know, and I have not a minute to spare. Have you brought the necessary
documents?"
"It is a simple matter," said the Greek, advancing confidently. "Half a
sheet of notepaper with your signature and our indorsement as witnesses
will suffice."
Prince Michael and Julius, reassured by Alec's manner, and thanking the
propitious stars that had rendered unnecessary the dangerous step they
were contemplating, entered the room with as businesslike an air as they
could assume at a crisis so fraught with import to their own future.
"We ought to be alone," said Beliani in English, with a wary glance at
Bosko.
"Oh, for goodness' sake don't disturb my man! I have so little time and
so much to do! Tell me exactly what you want me to sign," and he strode
to the door and closed it behind Marulitch.
The eyes of the three were on him and not on the harmless looking
attendant. During those few seconds they were completely deceived.
Prince Michael, finding the path so easy, took the lead. "Just a formal
renunciation of the crown," he said. "Give as your reason, if you
choose, your inability to fall in with the expressed desire of the
Cabinet that you should marry a Serbian lady. It is essential that you
should name me----"
The door opened and Lord Adalbert Beaumanoir came in leisurely. He
carried an assortment of straps, rifled from leather trunks and
hatboxes. He saw the three men facing Alec, and behind them Bosko's
leveled revolvers.
"Not a bally rope to be had, dear boy; but here's leather enough to go
round," he grinned. "By gad! what a tableau! I suppose you mean to gag
'em and then tie 'em back to back, eh, what?"
Alec picked up a chair. "Yes," he said. "Begin with his Excellency
Prince Michael."
Julius Marulitch's right hand sought the pocket of the dinner jacket he
was wearing.
"No, Julius," said Alec pleasantly, "move an inch and you are a dead
man. Bosko has my orders, and he will obey them. You may look at him if
you doubt my word."
Marulitch's well poised head had never before turned so quickly; but he
shrank from a wicked looking muzzle pointed straight between his eyes.
In such circumstances, the caliber of a revolver seems to become
magnified to absurdly large proportions, and behind the fearsome weapon
Bosko's immovable face was that of an automaton.
Beliani's olive complexion assumed a sickly green tint for the second
time that evening. "I was right," he muttered; "but you would not
listen."
"It is a common delusion of the thief that an honest man has no brains,"
said Alec coolly. "Now, Beaumanoir, get busy. Time is flying, and we
have little more than an hour to spare."
Prince Michael, never noted for his courage, began to whimper some words
of expostulation; but Beaumanoir's strong hands soon silenced him with
an improvised gag, for the effeminate little rascal realized that his
jaw might be broken if he resisted the stuffing of a towel into his
mouth. In a few minutes the three were seated on the floor, securely
bound, and unable to utter more than a gurgling cry, which would
certainly not be heard by any one passing along the outer corridor.
Alec's cheerful explanation of his action must have been particularly
galling. "You will remain here until such time as Stampoff decides that
you may safely be set at liberty," he said. "Not you, but he, must
provide for the future good government in Kosnovia."
"Thanks, Beaumanoir," he added, turning from the discomfited trio with a
carelessness that showed they gave him no further concern. "Better be
off now and get ready. Bosko, mount guard outside the door! Allow no one
to enter on any pretext whatsoever!"
[Illustration: In a few minutes the three were securely bound
Page 298]
Then he busied himself about the room, followed by vengeful eyes. He had
brought little into Kosnovia, and he took little away. The extraordinary
simplicity of his life had rendered unnecessary the usual trappings of a
King. He had worn no uniform save the plainest of field service
garments. He possessed no State attire. His clothes were mostly those
which came from Paris, and it amused him now to change rapidly into the
very suit in which he had entered Delgratz, an unknown claimant of the
Kosnovian throne. Bundling his trunks out into the corridor, he closed
and locked the door, and the click of the moving bolt must have sent a
tremor through the stiff limbs of the three worthies who lay huddled
together inside.
Bidding Bosko hurry over his own preparations, he descended to the
courtyard. A number of troopers, standing by their horses' heads, sprang
to attention when he appeared.
"You can dismiss your men," he said to the officer in charge. "They will
not be needed to-night."
Then he told an attendant to order a couple of carriages for half-past
eleven. In the reception room he wrote a hasty note to Stampoff:
MY DEAR PAUL:--The legitimate King of Kosnovia and his heir
apparent, not contented with the arrangement entered into in your
presence, planned with Beliani a _coup d'etat_. I defeated it. You
will find all three in my bedroom, the key of which I inclose. They
are alive and well, and will stop there until it pleases you to
release them. Perhaps you would like to consult with Sergius
Nesimir, who by the time you receive this may have recovered the
composure so rudely disturbed to-night. At any rate, the next move
rests with you. Farewell and good luck.
Yours,
ALEC.
Outside his mother's apartments he came upon Prince Michael's valet in
whispered consultation with Pauline and Princess Delgrado's maid. In the
rush of events he had forgotten the two domestics from the Rue
Boissiere.
"His Excellency will not need your services to-night," he said to the
man, "and it will meet his wishes in every respect if nothing is said to
the other servants as to the departure of the Princess for Paris."
"Precisely, your Majesty," smirked the Frenchman.
"You, of course," he went on, addressing the maid, "will accompany your
mistress."
"Yes, your Majesty," she said, quite reassured by Alec's matter of fact
manner.
A glance at Pauline's honest face showed that nothing had been said of
the curious scene witnessed in the bureau. To a certain extent, Joan's
humble friend shared his confidence, and it was evident that she had not
betrayed it.
The departure of such a large party probably created some speculation
among the palace servants; but Nesimir did not put in an appearance, and
no one dared to question the King's movements. Alec had purposely
allowed the barest time for the drive to the station. The midnight
train, not being an important express, carried few passengers, mostly
traders returning to neighboring towns in Austria after conducting the
day's business in Delgratz. The King and his companions, of course, were
recognized; but again it was not to be expected that any official would
trouble them with inquiries.
Having secured a compartment for his mother and Beaumanoir, Alec made
for the station master's office, meaning to obtain a messenger who might
be trusted to deliver Stampoff's letter, and he happened to notice a
policeman standing near a carriage door.
A white face peered out through the window. It was Sobieski. The King
and the waiter were quitting Delgratz by the same train!
Alec laughed, and the policeman saluted. "When the train has gone," said
Alec, "I want you to deliver this letter to General Stampoff."
"Yes, your Majesty," replied the man.
"It is important, remember. Here are ten rubles, and ask General
Stampoff, with my compliments, for the like amount. Take no denial from
his servants. If he is in bed, he must be awaked. Say that I sent you,
and there should be no difficulty."
Precisely at midnight the train started. Quickly gathering speed, it ran
through the tumbledown suburbs of the city and rumbled across the iron
bridge that spans the Tave River. In twenty minutes it was at Semlin,
and Austrian officials were examining passports. It was almost ludicrous
to find that they gave Alec and his mother a perfunctory glance; but
Lord Adalbert Beaumanoir excited their lively suspicion. One man, in
particular, mounted guard outside the carriage, and did not budge till
the train moved on again.
"That chap remembers me," said Beaumanoir. "Did you notice how he
glared? He was the johnny I slung through the window."
At an early hour in the morning Joan was peering disconsolately through
the window of a railway carriage at the life and bustle of Budapest
station. Felix had gone to purchase some newspapers, and the girl was
absorbed in gray thought when an official thrust head and shoulders into
the compartment and asked if the Fraeulein Vernon, passenger from
Delgratz to Paris, was within.
"Yes," gasped Joan, all the slight color flying from her cheeks and
leaving her wan indeed.
"Here is a telegram for you, fraeulein," said the man politely, and his
civil tone, at least, assured her that she was not to be dragged from
the train and subjected to some mysterious inquisition by Austrian
police. "Sent care of the station master," he explained, "and we were
urgently requested to find you. Kindly sign this receipt."
She scribbled her name on a form, and the man carefully compared it with
the superscription on the telegram.
"Yes, that is right," he said, and at last the agitated girl was free to
open this message from the skies. It was written in German, probably to
insure accurate transmission, and it read:
My mother and I, together with Beaumanoir, left Delgratz seven
hours later than you. Pauline accompanies us. We are returning to
Paris after having settled affairs satisfactorily in Kosnovia.
Please await our arrival in Budapest, and accept the statement
without any qualification that there is no reason whatever why you
should not do this.
ALEC.
The amazing words were still dancing before her eyes when Felix came
running along the platform. He too had been identified by an official,
and in his hand was another telegraphic slip.
"We need have no secrets between us now, my belle," he cried excitedly.
"You guess what has happened."
"Alec has left Delgratz--he and his mother--Oh, Felix! if he really sent
this telegram, why did he not explain things?"
"The explanation would be rather ticklish, when you come to think of
it," said Felix dryly. "The Austrian Government might take too keen an
interest in it. Don't you understand, girl? He has wrung the truth from
some one. He is no longer a King, but a very devoted lover. Come, we can
pass the day pleasantly in Budapest. There is nothing else to be done.
No sense in running away merely for the fun of the thing. If Alec is not
a King, there is no immediate probability of your becoming a Queen. You
will be plain Mrs. Somebody or other. Now I wonder what in the world his
new name is. The son of an American father would hardly be called
Alexis. Horrible thought! You may have to learn to love him all over
again as Chauncey, or Hiram, or Phineas. Tell me, mignonne, could you
take him back to your heart as Phineas?"
Joan rose and stepped out on the platform. Poluski's chaffing outburst
failed in its intent, though, to his great relief, she did not break
down as he feared. "Perhaps he will not want me now, Felix," she said,
and her eyes were shining.
"Oh, fiddlesticks!" cried the hunchback. "Why did he telegraph from the
first wayside station after leaving Semlin? Alec not want you! At this
moment he is more proud that he is a free born American than if a
miracle almost beyond the powers of Heaven had made him a Delgrado."
Felix, cynic that he was, was secretly delighted when Joan discovered
after breakfast that a blouse which caught her eye in one of the
Budapest shops was much more suitable for traveling than that which she
happened to be wearing. It was also significant that the dust which had
gathered in her hair during the long journey from Delgratz required a
visit to a coiffeur. These straws showed how the wind blew, he fancied.
And it was good to see the way Joan's face kindled when Alec clasped her
in his arms. They said little then. The why and the wherefore of events
they left to another hour; but when Joan extricated herself from her
lover's embrace she turned to Princess Delgrado. The two women exchanged
an affectionate kiss; each looked at the other through a mist of tears.
Words were not needed. They understood, and that sufficed.
In a calmer moment Alec told Joan what had happened. He laid special
stress on the fact that his mother was quite determined to renounce her
title and revert to the name she bore during her first marriage.
"I never realized the tenth part of her suffering in Paris," he said,
"though I knew far more about Prince Michael's conduct than he guessed.
We must make it our business, Joan, to bring some brightness into her
declining years. I have been planning our future all day in the train.
Shall I become the fortune teller this time?"
"Yes," she murmured, "and perhaps I may forget that I have cost you a
Kingdom."
He laughed gayly, just as he used to laugh on those bright May mornings
when he waited on the Pont Neuf in the hope that he might be permitted
to escort her to the Louvre.
"Never dream that I shall bring that up against you, dear heart," he
said. "Delgratz ought to advertise itself as a sure cure for ambition. I
liked the people; but I hated the job, and Kosnovia is already becoming
a myth in my mind. I am rejoicing in my new name, Alexander Talbot. I
hope you like it. My mother tells me that my father was one of the
strong men of the West. I am called after him, it seems, and although my
own name sounds strange to me I like the purposeful ring in it."
Joan laughed merrily. "Felix was teasing me this morning by suggesting
that you might have been christened Phineas," she said.
"The wretch! And what if I was?"
She looked at him with a delightful shyness. "No matter what name you
bore, you would always be my Alec," she whispered.
They were leaning over the balcony of an open air restaurant at the
moment; so Alec perforce contented himself with clasping her hand.
"And now for my scheme, little girl," he said. "We will get married at
once, of course."
She made no reply; but he felt the thrill that ran through her veins.
"Then," he went on, so gravely that she raised her eyes to his, seeking
to catch his slightest shade of meaning; for her heart was still
troubled by the fear that she had wrought him evil, "I will take you to
America, my home. There is surely a nest for us out there. I have never
understood it before; but often, as a boy, I felt the call of the West.
It was natural, I suppose. We had many American friends in Paris, and my
blood tingled when they spoke of the great rivers, the prairies, the
ocean lakes, the giant mountain ranges, and the far flung plains of that
wondrous continent which they describe with a reverent humor as God's
own country. I feel that I shall win a place for myself in the land of
my birth, and my poor mother is aching to go back there again."
He paused, and perhaps he hardly realized why Joan sighed with
happiness; for she could believe, at last, that he had never a pang for
his lost kingship.
[Illustration: He felt the thrill that ran through her veins
Page 306]
"It is my home, too, Alec," she cooed. "I was born in Vermont. We are
going home together."
"Yes, dear, no more partings. We shall not be wealthy, Joan. It seems
that the miserable little humbug whom I have regarded as my father has
wasted the whole of my mother's fortune by his extravagance. The only
scrap left is a small farm near Denver, and even that would have been
sold had not the crisis in Delgratz offered a wider scope for Michael's
plundering instincts. It is a strange thing, sweetheart, but on the day
we parted in Paris--the day the news came of the murder of Theodore and
his wife--Prince Michael quarreled with my mother because she refused to
sanction the sale of that last shred of her inheritance. In order to
vent his spite, he had actually decided to tell me the secret of my
birth in the very hour that Julius Marulitch announced the disappearance
of the Obrenovitch dynasty."
"And the goddess sent you east instead of west," she said softly.
"Yes, my trial has been short and sharp; but she must have found me
worthy, since she has given me--you."
They reached Paris next evening; but by that time the newspapers were
hot on the scent of the missing King. So far as could be judged from the
reports telegraphed by French correspondents in Delgratz, Stampoff had
remained true to his dream of a monarchy. For lack of a better, Michael
was King. Some one, Beliani probably, had issued a statement that the
infatuation of Alexis III. for a pretty Parisian artist had led him to
abdicate, and as soon as it was discovered that the Delgrado flat in the
Rue Boissiere was again occupied by Alec and his mother, they were
besieged by reporters anxious to glean details of a royal romance.
They decided, therefore, to leave Paris for London, where, under the
name of Talbot, they might hope to escape such unwelcome attentions. It
was no easy matter to shake off the horde of eager pressmen; but they
succeeded at last, and when Alec and Joan were quietly married in a West
End church, no one, except the officiating minister, had the least
knowledge of their identity.
After a brief honeymoon in Devon they rejoined Mrs. Talbot, and the
three sailed from Southampton, whither came Felix and Beaumanoir to bid
them farewell. Bosko and Pauline were on the same ship. The taciturn
Serb had positively refused to leave his master, though Alec pointed out
that his fallen fortunes hardly warranted him in retaining a valet,
while Pauline, whom recent circumstances had thrown a good deal in
Bosko's company, declared that Paris no longer had any attractions for
her. Without consulting any one the two got married, and astounded Mrs.
Talbot one fine morning by announcing the fact.
At the last moment Joan almost persuaded Felix to go with her and her
husband; but he tore himself away.
"I peeped into the Grande Galerie the other morning," he said, with a
real sob in his voice, "and my poor Madonna looked so lonely! There was
no one with her; just a few painted angels and a couple of gaping
tourists. I must go back. Some day you will come to the Louvre, and you
will find me there, _le pauvre_ Bourdon, still singing and painting."
He began to hum furiously. When the gangway was lowered, and the great
ship sidled slowly but relentlessly away from the quay, he struck the
tremendous opening note of "Ernani."
Beaumanoir grabbed him by the collar. "Shut up, you idiot!" he said, not
smiling at all, for he loved Alec. "This is England. If you sing here, a
bobby will run you in. An', anyhow, blank it! why do you want to sing?
This isn't a smoking concert. It's more like a bally funeral!"