On the third day the Primate called the whole nation to fasting,
humiliation, and prayer. At St. Paul's Cathedral the Litany was to
be read; and when the great bell began to toll his minutes over the
Capital our Lady said she would attend that service.
For by this time the press had spoken in no uncertain voice. A
newspaper is, indeed, like a lens, a burning glass condensing the
thought of the people into one clear flame of utterance.
The clear flame had fallen upon the Lord Protector and his
Parliament, the nation waited for the Queen to strike, and she did
well to trust the poor who loved her.
So, dressed in deep mourning, and attended only by Miss Temple, our
Lady drove out through the gates in an open carriage. She would have
no bodyguard, save in the protection of the mob. The troops cheered
as they opened their lines for her passage, men came uncovered, and
begged leave to draw her carriage, and all through the streets she
was guarded by crowds of men with a great deal of noise, but much
besides of loving reverence.
An attempt to arrest our Lady would have led to grievous trouble for
the Government, for the Dictator's writ had little meaning now, and
for the moment it seemed that his rule was come to an end. Without
attracting notice, Brand's yacht followed Margaret to St. Paul's.
He sat alone in his office behind the darkened, barricaded windows.
A pocket aerograph clicked on the desk before him, message after
message flashed down from the yacht by his secretaries, and at times,
with the little key throbbing under his finger, he sent instructions
back.
Nearly all his ships were captured now, Lyonesse had fallen, and yet
he must wait, guarding the sacred person of the Queen until the time
was ripe, until the nation called him to strike the Dictator down.
He must be ready when the moment came, he must have the full support
of the Imperial Fleets, the Armies, the departments, the people's
trusted leaders, the functions of the whole administration. The new
Government must date from Ulster's fall, leaving no instant of doubt,
of anarchy, and, above all, this must be Margaret's Government, no
froth upon the waves of revolution. There must be no cry in the
streets of Brand's Dictatorship, or any mention of himself at all.
His portion was with the ships and factories. But it was hard to
wait while his ships were captured, his factories despoiled, his good
name marred by this reluctant, torturing, agonizing silence.
He closed the instrument, and lying back in his chair, remained in
thought. These three days had sprinkled his hair with silver, aged
his strong face, added to the rough power of the man something of
majesty, and there came into his eyes a light that had never shown
until he knew the Queen. The vision of her arose before him now, her
voice seemed to ring through the quiet room, and his heart went out
to her in desire.
Who was he that he should dare to love this child of mail-clad Kings,
this mighty Empress in whose august name the very skies were
governed, and the sea, and realms and continents of men within the
limits of the British Peace? He was a commoner, a tradesman, and yet
no difference of rank or station, of wealth or power, eminence,
faith, enlightenment, has ever set boundaries to human love. 'Tis
the man and the woman who mate, not their condition. Had he not seen
the evidence of love in Margaret's face? And to win her he must
conquer the whole world.
But he was presently aroused from his enchantment. Already some one
had knocked at the door unnoticed, and now, while with clasped hands
he sat before the table, and with uplifted eyes gazed on his mental
vision of the Queen, there was a visitor standing within the room.
Dimly aware of some impending peril, Brand turned round to find a
stranger bowing apologies, a gentleman in civilian dress, yet wearing
a turban of banded green and gold, an Oriental, haughty, yet in some
queer way, servile.
"You are Prince Ali?" he asked.
"At your service, yes."
"Escaped from the guard-room?"
Prince Ali put a bolder face on his intrusion, went to a chair by the
wall, sat down and crossed his legs.
"Before you ring for my guards," he explained, "I have business with
you."
Brand smiled at the man's audacity.
"Of course,"--his Highness lighted a cigarette--"you share our common
sorrow at this grave crisis?"
"No, sir, we have nothing in common."
"I observe," the Prince laughed, "that the sea-eagle wastes few
regrets over a panic of gulls."
"Am I to be one of your eagles, or one of your gulls, Prince Ali?"
"Of the gulls? No." He shrugged his shoulder. "You are King of the
air, as I am of India!"
"I supposed," said Brand, gravely, "that her Majesty was Empress of
India."
"Was Empress, yes. I see we understand one another."
"I think, my dear Prince, that I follow your meaning. So India finds
her opportunity in this crisis? May I venture to ask if you speak on
behalf of Russia?"
"I speak," said the other, haughtily, "for India. I speak for the
India which has waited ever since 1857."
"For a repetition of the artillery salutes fired by the British in
1858?"
Ali's face darkened with sudden passion. "Your tact, Mr. Brand, is
most English. Yes, I have the honour to speak for the India which
has waited since the artillery salutes of 1858."
"And how am I to serve you?"
"I come, Mr. Brand, to the future Dictator of the world, not to ask
favours, but to confer them."
"Indeed, you are too kind. Go on, sir."
"I must warn you first that Lyonesse has been captured."
"You don't say so."
"Also that all your ships are taken, save two which are homeward
bound, and will be secured on their arrival. Your yacht has gone to
the city to guard the ex-Queen. You are helpless in the hands of
your enemies. I have come to save you."
"Indeed." Brand reached forward across the desk, and touched an
electric bell. "How you escaped from the guard, I don't quite know,"
he said; "I have rung to inquire."
"Very good," Prince Ali laughed. "I was released and sent here by
the Lord Protector's agent, the Duke of Gloucester."
"Really," said Brand, sarcastically; "any further revelations?"
"Yes. The price which Ulster pays for your body, the price he pays
to Gloucester, is the throne--the throne of the Empire!"
"Anything more?"
"At all hazards I came to warn you of this trap, and you walk blindly
into it. That bell condemns you to death! Quick,"--Prince Ali
started to his feet--"there may be time. At the end of this corridor
there's a door to the upper terrace--when your yacht comes back you
can signal. I can save you yet!"
"Your price?"
"India."
"Sit down, Prince Ali, sit down, I say! Listen to me," said the
master, "you first betrayed poor Ulster to the Russians. Then you
betrayed the Queen by this intrigue. Now you would betray the
Dictator to me--in order that you may betray your sovereign again, by
seizing India. I may have lost my city, my lands and factories, my
ships--all that I had, and be here, helpless, at Ulster's mercy."
He looked up at the windows with their loopholed barricades, swung
round to face the door from which there was no escape, then turned on
Ali of Haidar.
"By the living God, I swear," he cried, "that within a month I'll
have you blown from your own guns at the gates of Delhi!"
Rising from his chair, he seized the aerograph and signalled to his
yacht for instant succour.
"Die, then!" said the Prince; "here's the death of a dog for you!"
He clapped his hands as though in the Eastern manner calling a
servant. Then the door swung open and Gloucester, Captain of the
Guard, strode into the room.
He seemed astonished, this old, grizzled soldier--over-astonished.
"Trooper Ali!"
The trooper rose and saluted.
"Who let you out of the guard-room?"
The trooper turned his slow gaze on Brand, and Gloucester, following
the direction of his eyes--
"Mr. Brand," he cried, "have you harboured this prisoner?"
Now, Brand was sitting with the aerograph upon his knee signalling
rapidly for help. Gloucester's very presence was ignored by this
commoner.
"Mr. Brand!" He spoke imperatively. "Mr. Brand!"
The master glanced up with one eye. "Well," he asked. "What's the
matter with you?"
"You forget yourself!"
"Not at all. I observe that Prince Ali claps his hands to call a
servant. The servant appears, and does well to stand awaiting my
orders. You may go." Brand dearly loved a fight.