been moved from where you last saw it. It’s no longer in this inlet.
When you pass the door, keep straight out into the main valley. The
moment you reach the valley you will notice, a short distance away,
two inlets to the right. Keep on to the second inlet and there, among
several others, you will find your air-ship. If you are seen at all,
it won’t be until after you have risen well over the mountain tops,
and long before any of the men can get back to the air-ships, you
will be well out of sight and beyond any chance of pursuit. Besides,
I don’t believe they will attempt any chase as they have never taken
any chance of the air-ships being seen by going above the mountain
tops in daylight. How the ‘Black Hawk’ will carry on when he finds you
have got away! I owe him a grudge or two and it will be great fun to
see him storm and rage. You have now the whole plan. Are you sure you
understand it?”
“Quite!” replied the Professor.
“Keep it well in mind, then,” said Valerie. “In half an hour I shall be
back and the time for you will have come.”
She ran up the steps and tapped three times lightly on the door. As
it opened they caught a glimpse of the big, good-natured face of the
sentry, as he beamed joyously upon the departing Valerie.
When the door closed after her, Mortimer began striding up and down
the cabin, strongly agitated by conflicting emotions. On the one hand
was his strong desire to escape from confinement, so maddening under
existing circumstances; on the other hand was his dislike for the means
to be adopted.
“Is it right?” he asked the Professor, “to let this girl mix herself
up in this? We ought not to let her run risks in our behalf. How do
we know what may be the consequences to her? If she’s suspected, this
devil, Henry, would stop at nothing.”
“Oh! you’re hypersensitive,” responded the Professor. “Valerie can be
trusted to find her way out of any entanglement. The best thing for us
is to accept the chance she offers and get away.”
Mortimer listened, but shook his head moodily and seemed by no means
satisfied.
Thus the half-hour quickly sped by and, punctually at its expiration,
the door opened and Valerie reappeared.
“All ready?” she exclaimed, in rapid tones.
Mortimer raised his head slowly.
“I shall not go,” he said.
“Not go! and why?”
“For the reasons I’ve explained. Don’t think, though, that I am
insensible to your great kindness--that I thank you the less.”
“Keep your thanks till some other time,” exclaimed Valerie, with
flushed cheeks; “now is the time to act. You won’t go, eh? We’ll
see about that. When I make up my mind to something, that something
generally comes off, as you shall see!”
With these words she sprang up the steps and tapped on the door. It was
immediately opened.
“Jack, come here!”
Jack, grinning broadly, promptly descended into the cabin. Valerie
dropped into a seat and pointed to one of the little coils of rope.
“Tie me, Jack.”
Jack’s eyes opened wide in astonishment and he hesitated.
“Tie me, Jack. Since when did you begin to disobey my orders? Hurry, I
say.”
Thus admonished, Jack seized the rope and, with a few skilful turns,
bound her fast.
“Now,” she cried triumphantly, turning her head toward Mortimer, “now
will you go, or will you remain here until someone comes and finds us
and we all get into trouble for nothing?”
“Yes; hurry up and do something,” cried Jack impatiently. “Either I
must be choked dumb and tied up, or I must get back to my post. What
are you making so much fuss about anyway? Don’t you want to go back
home to fight? You look like a pretty niftily set up sort of a man,”
he continued, addressing Mortimer, “but the other doesn’t look as if
he would count for much. Come, hurry up! You’ve wasted too much time
already!”
“You’re right!” exclaimed the Professor, and, rope in hand, he fell
upon Jack and quickly secured him.
As for Mortimer, Jack’s reference to going home to fight aroused him.
Rapidly there flashed through his mind the vision of a strangely-fought
and bloody struggle in progress, his regiment attacked and he absent
from his men and from his duty.
He glanced at the Professor now rapidly completing the work of securing
Jack. Then he crossed to where Valerie sat.
“You win,” he said with emotion; “I accept your sacrifice and will go.
But remember, should you find yourself in peril as the result of this,
one word sent to me at the palace and I’m at all times ready to return
and surrender myself.”
“Include me in that proposition,” interjected Dean.
“Pull tighter round the ankles!” called out Jack, and the Professor
again bent to his task. A couple more turns of the rope, a few sharp
tugs and he stood up, his work completed.
“Go!” whispered Valerie, with pleading lips and eyes upturned to
Mortimer. “Go, before it is too late.”
He lingered yet a moment.
“Don’t forget my offer,” he said, “should you find yourself in peril. I
hold myself your debtor for life. You will remember?”
“Ah! But will you remember something?” returned Valerie hastily. “You
are going into a greater danger than will surround me. In these awful
days that are to come it is you that most likely will need help. Will
you remember you have a friend among your--enemies? If I can help you,
remember I--I--Oh! Go, go quickly!”
“Come, it’s time we were off,” exclaimed the Professor, touching
Mortimer lightly upon the arm. The Captain started. Stooping, he kissed
Valerie’s hand and tried to murmur his gratitude to the girl, before
he turned to follow the Professor. Tears were in her eyes; her lips
trembled slightly.
They reached the head of the steps and were outside the door. Mortimer
turned and waved a farewell. Then Dean banged to the door and shot the
bolts.
Rapidly they traversed the gully, reached the main valley and peered
out. No one was in sight. To the right were the two gullies, just as
Valerie had described. Skirting closely the base of the mountain to
keep as much as possible out of sight, they reached the entrance to the
first gully and peered in.
They saw several air-ships, but nothing else. On they kept and, a few
moments later, had reached the second gully. Air-ships here, too, and,
joyful sight, their own air-ship away back at the end there. The coast
was evidently clear and they would reach it in a few minutes and be on
board. How fresh and sweet the air smelled! How good it was to be free!
They pushed on over the intervening space and had proceeded some fifty
yards when around the stern of one of the air-ships before them a man
came into sight. One glance at the burly figure and black beard was
sufficient. It was the “Black Hawk.”
They recognized him and, with an astonished shout, he as quickly
recognized them.
Instantly he advanced toward them.
They were in a species of small clearing, with air-ships on all four
sides. Mortimer halted. All his moodiness had disappeared. There was a
strange light in his eyes and a smile upon his lips. He cast a rapid
glance around him. There were no others in sight. Ah, God was good!
There was the blue sky above their heads and the green grass beneath
their feet and he and the “Black Hawk” were face to face.
An instant more and he confronted them. A sword hung at his side and
upon his left shoulder there glittered the gold star of an officer of
the Army of the New Republic.
“So,” he said, his black beard bristling, his eyes snapping with
hatred, “so you dogs have escaped from your kennel, eh?”
From Mortimer there came no reply. He stood gazing upon his enemy, the
same peculiar light in his eyes and smile upon his lips.
“But you’ll quickly march back again,” he continued, with a malignant
snarl. “At least one of you. As for you, Mr. Fine Feathers, I am glad
to see you are armed, for no blame can then be put upon me. Later, too,
I’ll find out how all this happened. I suspect that heifer, Valerie,
had a hand in this!”
The words sealed his fate. For Valerie’s sake, the thought flashed
through Mortimer’s mind, this man must not escape him.
“Let me first pay my debt!” he exclaimed, and his long, sinuous arm
shot out and struck Henry, with open palm, full in the face.
The blow was so sharp and so sudden that Henry reeled. In an instant,
however, he had recovered himself and his hand flew to his sword.
Mortimer drew with equal celerity.
They sprang together and their swords crossed.
Henry was an expert swordsman and was regarded among the men of the
camp as an invincible champion with this weapon. He attacked with all
the confidence of one who holds victory certain. He little dreamed,
however, of the skill against which he was now matched--a skill which
in bygone days had held wild Kurd horsemen and fiery Cossacks alike
successfully at bay and had given its owner the reputation of the crack
swordsman of the American ranks. Mortimer fenced smartly, as one on
parade, and the smile still hovered about his lips as he parried his
opponent’s fierce attacks.
It was soon over. There was a quick parry, a sharp feint and
Mortimer’s arm shot out in a lightning-like lunge. Back reeled Henry
and dropped heavily to earth. Mortimer’s sword had passed beneath his
opponent’s black beard and had penetrated deep into the throat. He lay
gasping--dying; choked with the blood which ebbed from the great wound
and gushed in a gory tide over his neck and breast.
Mortimer shook the blood from his sword.
“That’s what the swordsmen of the French school call ‘_le coup de
cochon_,’” he said. “It’s a very neat stroke--when properly delivered.”
And he turned coolly toward Dean.
But the latter stood leaning for support against the side of one of the
air-ships, looking with strained eyes and blanched face at the form
upon the ground.
“Ah, I forgot,” exclaimed Mortimer, “you’re not accustomed to scenes of
this kind. It’s astonishing, though, how soon one does get used to them
in war.”
“Can we lend him no aid,” asked Dean and, overcoming his feelings, he
advanced and knelt beside the wounded man.
“He’s beyond human assistance, I assure you,” said Mortimer. “I have
never known a recovery from that stroke.”
And he was right, for as Dean bent down he saw a great shiver pass over
the frame of the prostrate man and a moment later all was over; the
“Black Hawk” lay dead.
“Come; there is no time to lose!” exclaimed Mortimer, and seizing Dean
under the arm he half led, half carried him to where their air-ship
lay. A hasty scramble on board; an equally hasty inspection of the
apparatus to ascertain that all was in order; a quick working of the
levers by the Professor and they were away.
Steadily and gracefully they rose until they were above the mountain
tops and the country lay well beneath them. Away in the distance they
perceived a number of men, apparently engaged in the execution of
certain manœuvers. These were evidently the men referred to by Valerie
as drilling on Minden Plain. From a sudden commotion among the men it
was evident the air-ship had been seen.
“We seem to be creating some excitement!” exclaimed Mortimer, referring
to this circumstance. “I wonder if they will attempt a pursuit.”
“It will be a very useless effort if they do,” replied Dean.
“Well,” remarked Mortimer, “you know their craft is a good deal faster
than ours.”
“Yes, I know,” answered Dean, “but long before they can even reach
their ships, we will have disappeared from view. We are at least fast
enough for that and don’t forget that we leave no trail behind us.”
Up and up they rose until they were invisible to anything upon the
surface of the earth. Onward they sped, and no pursuing form appearing
behind them, they realized that they had indeed escaped. For an hour or
more they held on thus and at last Dean spoke.
“I have been keeping entirely away from our proper course,” he said,
“as in that manner I thought we should be less likely to be in the
line of pursuit, if indeed a pursuit be attempted at all. I feel that
we are quite safe from that now and I had best lay the course for the
palace, I suppose?”
“I should think that would be the right thing to do,” assented Mortimer.
“But first,” said Dean, “in case of any possible further mishap, I
think it would be well for us to open up communication with Kearns and
send him a message. Don’t you think it is time that he had one?”
“Decidedly,” answered Mortimer. “An excellent idea. But can you do it?
Remember the instrument is in his room in the Chancellerie and the
windows of that room face South, while we are now due North.”
“Quite so,” answered Dean, “but the instrument in that room is
connected with one on the roof of the Palace, so that at this altitude
I can operate from all four points of the compass.”
Dean brought the air-ship to a standstill and allowed it to drift in
the air currents. Then he applied himself to the aërestograph.
Silently Mortimer sat awaiting results. Presently Dean laid aside the
instrument and turned to Mortimer.
“He does not make any response,” he said. “He is probably away from the
instrument. We must try again later.”
Dean again started the air-ship and for half an hour they kept on their
course. Then Dean again stopped and gave the aërestograph a further
trial.
“Ah!” he exclaimed immediately, a pleased expression coming into his
face; “now we have him!”
Dean operated the instrument for a minute or more and then was occupied
for quite some time in the reception of the reply. Kearns, thought
Mortimer, was evidently either not a very rapid or very accurate
operator, or else the reply must be of some length. At last it was over
and Dean sent back a brief answer.
“Very curious!” he muttered, laying aside the instrument.
“What is very curious?” questioned Mortimer.
“The reply to our message.”
“What was it?”
“First let me give you what I sent,” said Dean. “It was this: ‘We have
been prisoners, but have escaped. We are returning with big news and
fullest information.’”
“Yes, yes,” replied Mortimer; “that would seem to cover the ground very
nicely. And the answer?”
“This,” replied the Professor, “is the somewhat curious answer I’ve
received: ‘Strange happenings since you left. Do not return direct to
palace, but time arrival until after dark and manage unseen descent at
some quiet spot. Will meet you in park at northern end Queen’s Walk at
midnight.’”
“That’s certainly a rather strange message,” said Mortimer.
“I should call it very strange!” replied Dean thoughtfully. And, with
his hand upon the lever, he again started on through space.
CHAPTER VI
THE NEW CHANCELLOR
These were days of great news happenings at the palace. An officer
of the Guard, Captain Stanley Mortimer, had strangely disappeared
and another officer of the Guard, Captain Ralph Swords, had been
discovered, in the anteroom of the King’s chamber, senseless and
bleeding from a mysterious bullet wound in the head, inflicted upon
him while on guard duty. Fortunately the bullet had struck at a sharp
angle and had glanced from the parietal bone, inflicting a severe but
not necessarily fatal wound. It had been a narrow escape for Captain
Swords, who would be laid up for some time under the palace physician’s
care.
There were various vague rumors afloat concerning these events; rumors
that hinted at an attempt upon the life of the King. Still, nothing
definite was ascertainable.
Even more talked of was the death of Duke Marquanna, the great Lord
Chancellor of the realm, the famous Warwick of the American monarchy.
He had been found dead in his bed on the morning following the last
Court ball, having passed away peacefully during the night.
The air was full of gossip about the late Duke and particularly as
to his probable successor. It was well known that it had been the
ambition of the late Duke that his son should succeed him. But the
Marquis Marquanna, while shining as a social leader, a sportsman and
a setter of the fashions, seemed to have either little ambition, or
little inclination, for the more weighty and burdensome affairs of
State. It was true he had given a name to a new cocktail, or rather, an
old cocktail somewhat altered as to its component parts had been named
after him, as also a new style of cravat and a new brand of cigars, and
the Marquis seemed to think that with this he had accomplished all that
ought reasonably to be expected of him in this life.
It thus created no very general astonishment when the King named as
his Chancellor, to succeed the late Duke, Lord Cyril Ashley, whose
fulfillment of the duties of Vice-Chancellor had familiarized him with
the work in hand. Lord Ashley had in consequence of this appointment
severed his connection with the Army and had at once assumed the office
of Chancellor.
Almost his first move as Chancellor caused irritation to those forming
part of the Royal Household. Owing to Lord Ashley’s own resignation
from the Guards and to the absence of Captain Stanley Mortimer and the
present disability of Captain Ralph Swords, there existed one permanent
and two temporary vacancies in the Guards corps.
The ordinary staff appointment lay usually with the War Office, but in
the case of appointments to the Guards the selection was made by His
Majesty himself from a list of officers specially distinguished and
submitted by the Minister of War.
It had leaked out--in that mysterious way that things will leak out at
Court--that Lord Ashley, in his position of confidential adviser to
the King, had interfered in this instance with the list submitted, as
far as two of the appointments, at least, were concerned. The officer
selected to fill the permanent vacancy was Captain Farquharson, an
officer of excellent family with a gallant service record. His name had
been on the list submitted by the Minister of War and his appointment
gave general satisfaction at Court. The other two appointments, to
fill the temporary vacancies, were those of Captain Haslam and Captain
Bagley. These two names were not in the list furnished by the Minister
of War and neither officer had won any special distinction in the
service. Both had served in the field, and that which was chiefly
known concerning Captain Bagley was that he had at one time been tried
by court martial for the summary execution of certain Cossacks under
circumstances--if the charges advanced were true--of exceptional
brutality. True, the charges had not been fully proven and he had been
acquitted, but a lingering suspicion hovered over his name. Neither of
these men was of the character usually appointed to the Guards.
The Court grumbled, but Lord Ashley was not the manner of man to be
perturbed over mere grumblings and the Court was forced to console
itself with the reflection that the two unpopular appointments were,
after all, only likely to prove temporary ones.
In addition to this there were other and more momentous matters
attracting the attention of the Court gossips. There were
rumors--vague, undefined but persistent--of trouble brewing in the
country at large. The Reactionists, it was asserted, were showing
unusual activity of late; several quite prominent men, it was said,
were under suspicion of secretly fomenting insurrectionary movements
and certain startling discoveries in this connection had lately been
made, thanks to the energy of Lord Ashley, assisted by the mysterious
Mr. Kearns, who seemed to be in such close touch with the King.
In fact, Mr. Kearns had come to be regarded as one possessed of
secret power and high influence and was the recipient of numerous
distinguished attentions forthwith. Various persons attached to
the Court sought him out, entered into conversation and angled
energetically for information. Lady Brooke, in particular, diligently
pumped him for a long half-hour as to what he knew regarding the
mysterious disappearance of Captain Stanley Mortimer. Mr. Kearns
listened placidly; uttered solemn generalities and told nothing. With
Lady Brooke he did go so far as to inform her that he would furnish her
with the information she desired “in due course,” with which answer,
in spite of further energetic probings, my Lady Brooke had to rest
content. The result was that Mr. Kearns was put down as a man who knew
more than he would tell and as a very wise person generally. He was
by no means the first with whom a well-assumed air of reticence and
oracular solemnity have passed for deep wisdom.
It was further whispered that Lord Ashley and Mr. Kearns were working
hand in hand in the matter of the suspected conspiracies and that
startling disclosures were before long to be anticipated.
Like most rumors, the ones in question possessed a certain percentage
of truth and fact mixed with a far larger percentage of fiction.
It was indeed true that Kearns had been taken in high favor by the
King. Whether it was Mr. Kearns’s particular aptitude for impressing
people, or whether it was due to some peculiar intuition, the fact
remained that His Majesty entertained the belief that he was the one
man above all others suited to occupy the position of his confidential
Secret Service Chief and that it was he who was destined to unravel the
various mysteries with which His Majesty had in the past been annoyed.
There was this much to be said in favor of Kearns--he was free from
any political affiliations and could not by any possibility be mixed
up with any Court, or outside, influences: an extremely desirable man,
therefore, from this viewpoint alone.
As for Mr. Kearns, he maintained much the same demeanor and policy
with the King that he had adopted when under the interrogatory fire of
individual members of the Court. As a result of the last visitation,
the King had found in his chamber another threatening document, which
set forth that this was the final warning; that only a few days’ grace
was accorded for his compliance with previous demands and that, failing
this, the impending doom would descend.
The King wanted to know many particulars: the disappearance of Captain
Mortimer; the wounding of Captain Swords.
Kearns adhered staunchly and steadfastly to his invariable rule never
to make partial disclosures; never to say anything until his case was
complete. There was really much to commend itself in this plan. Every
additional person to whom information was imparted, he considered,
created an additional chance of a leak; again, if by any chance one
was on the wrong track one could retrace one’s steps without letting
anyone know of the error into which one had fallen and thus lessening
confidence generally and the illusion as to one’s infallibility. But
the feature which, perhaps, weighed most of all with Mr. Kearns was
that a case told bit by bit, lost much of the dramatic sensationalism
accompanying the disclosure of the completed investigation. And Mr.
Kearns loved sensationalism and dramatic effect. He was an artist who
sought to flash up the lights suddenly upon his _mise en scène_,
and the groupings after discovery, the false scents followed up, the
wrong suspicions, the mistakes and all the precise methods employed
finally to reach the truth were so much paraphernalia of the completed
production which he desired to keep out of sight.
Following his system he had told the King practically nothing, except
that “satisfactory progress” was being made and that he would be
prepared to submit a completed case “in due course.” The wounding
of Captain Swords and the disappearance of Captain Mortimer were
incidents concerning which he would prefer not to furnish information
at the present stage. All would be duly disclosed when the case was
completed. At this the King had frowned, but Mr. Kearns was firm. The
understanding when he had taken up the matter was that he should be
permitted to employ his own methods--methods which had been tested and
had proved successful in the past--and unless he were permitted to
follow out these methods, he would not be answerable for results and
would prefer to be relieved from further prosecution of the inquiry.
As the King was intensely eager for the successful prosecution of the
inquiry, and as Kearns was a man who spoke with confidence in his
ultimate success, the King arrived at the conclusion that it was best
to permit him to pursue matters in his own peculiar way. Should his
predictions ultimately turn out a mere fiasco, the royal favor could be
withdrawn and Kearns driven forth in disgrace.
Lord Ashley, too, had approached Kearns, intimating diplomatically that
they work together. Faced with this situation, Kearns rapidly cast
matters over in his mind and decided to adhere to his customary policy.
He could see nothing to be gained by filtering out such information
as he possessed to Lord Ashley; on the other side, there might be
distinct disadvantages in disclosing his hand and showing how little he
so far really held there. Lord Ashley had, therefore, failed to secure
anything from Kearns, which circumstance he seemed to accept with
rather bad grace.
As a matter of fact, Kearns was sorely puzzled. Summing up all he
really knew, it amounted to but little. He knew how the visitations by
the enemies of the King were contrived, but as to who these enemies
were, where they lurked and what their resources and objects were, he
was still in the dark. He shrewdly surmised the facts of the attempt
upon the life of Captain Swords; still that was a mere collateral
incident and did not avail him to any appreciable extent. Lastly, he
knew the details accompanying the disappearance of Captain Mortimer,
but with the possession of these details his knowledge in that
direction reached its limit.
What had become of Captain Mortimer and Professor Dean? Kearns felt he
had made a very close guess as to the actual truth. That they had met
with some disaster to their air-ship and been hurled to destruction
was, of course, possible; but Kearns did not accept this theory. He had
the utmost confidence in the Professor. He was a cautious man; knew
well what he was about; had made careful tests of his air-ship, and
had said it could fly. This was enough to convince Kearns. Besides, if
an accident had happened, news of it from some source would have been
had. In this way Kearns deduced the truth, though for him it was only a
theory that in following up the pursuit they had either been led into
some trap or else overpowered by those whom they followed and made
prisoners.
Kearns had not been blind to this latter possibility from the
beginning. The danger of it had occupied his attention long before the
Professor and Mortimer had started, but it was a danger he saw no way
of averting under the circumstances. There was nothing to be done but
to run the risk.
And now this very possibility which he had foreseen, but could not
provide against, appeared to have come to pass! What was to be done?
He had an ingenious but elaborate scheme of his own by which the
missing ones might possibly be traced, but he laid it aside as one
involving the expenditure of too much time and affording too many
chances of failure. He preferred to wait quietly in the expectant hope
that matters would presently take a turn his way. Captain Mortimer, he
argued, was a man of energy, determination and courage; the Professor
was full of scientific resources. He had faith in these qualities of
his two associates; he had an abiding faith, too, in his own good luck,
which had rarely deserted him at a critical point. Whether it was a
species of intuition or whether it was simply confidence bred from past
successes he knew not, but something within him seemed to say that the
right policy was to watch quietly and wait and things would yet come
his way.
But how long that might take and how long the King’s patience would
hold out, were knotty questions which sorely perplexed Mr. Kearns.
He was aware from certain news which reached him and certain
observations that, since his refusal to indulge in disclosures, Lord
Ashley was doing active work in various directions, employing for
this purpose the men of the regular Secret Service. Kearns had had
certain men of the Secret Service assigned to him by the King, in
case he should have use for their services. These men regarded him
as their possible future chief and were anxious enough to serve him.
They brought him reports, therefore, of the efforts of Lord Ashley
which were then being made through their fellows. They also brought him
news concerning the restlessness and discontent prevalent throughout
the country, which appeared to have been largely fomented by the
grasping operations of various great Trusts, inflicting such hardships
on the people as to make them desperate. A peculiar and suspicious
circumstance, too, was the organizing, arming and drilling of many new
military bodies, formed ostensibly as auxiliary volunteer regiments.
There seemed to be a peculiar free-masonry about them which rendered
it practically impossible for any stranger to enroll among them and so
discover something more definite as to their true internal affairs. All
this, Kearns was aware, was known to Lord Ashley, who in addition had
further information which had not yet reached him.
It was, therefore, no great surprise to him when on the morning of
the sixth day after the departure of the Dean air-ship, the King
sent for him and opened the interview by announcing that Lord Ashley
had succeeded in making important discoveries. Kearns, with an air
of well-assumed indifference, inquired if he might venture to ask
what these discoveries might be. His Majesty was pleased to smile
indulgently and reply that Lord Ashley seemed to be rivaling Kearns
in the matter of reticence. Certain facts, however, His Majesty was
willing to impart to Kearns. They might, he suggested, assist his
investigations and, if their views were agreed, he might see his way to
co-operating with Lord Ashley.
His Majesty then gave the information that Lord Ashley had made
discoveries convincing him that certain conspiracies were hatching
and certain seditious movements on foot. Lord Ashley had information
showing Captain Stanley Mortimer’s participation in these treasonable
transactions. He had, in fact, aided and abetted the enemies of the
King upon the occasion of their last visitation to the palace and,
believing he had been seen and recognized by Captain Swords, had shot
the latter and escaped, never to return, or else, learning that no
suspicion had attached itself to him on account of the Swords incident,
he would return and tender some specious pretext for his absence. Of
course, his presence in the palace would be a danger and a menace.
Kearns listened to the end. Only the august presence in which he stood
prevented him from laughing outright.
“And are these the disclosures Lord Ashley made to you, Sire?” asked
Kearns, with a cynical smile.
“Such is, in brief, part of the report,” said the King. “What have you
to say to it?”
“Simply this, Sire,” answered Kearns; “it shows how grievously a man
will blunder when he dabbles in an art he doesn’t understand.”
“Ah, you differ with Lord Ashley?”
“Not only differ with him, Sire,” replied Kearns boldly, “but I
pronounce him wholly and utterly wrong. Why, Captain Swords himself can
assure you of this!”
“Captain Swords,” said the King, “did not see his assailant and is
himself, I am informed, entirely deceived as to Captain Mortimer.”
“I beg to assure you, Sire,” declared Kearns earnestly, “that Captain
Mortimer has been guilty of no conspiracy, or other seditious act.
He is one of the bravest and most loyal officers in Your Majesty’s
service. You have been utterly misled in this matter.”
“You speak with such conviction,” said the King, “that your words
carry weight with us. Still, we would learn the reasons with which you
support your assertions.”
“When I assumed this task, Sire,” replied Kearns, “it was with the
express stipulation that I should be permitted to adopt my own methods.
I must beg you, Sire, to permit me to withhold my report until I can
present a completed case.”
“Be it as you ask, then,” said the King, with a slight frown. “We
would not have it in your power to ascribe failure to any interference
you had met with. In the meantime, you must not be astonished if we
give ear and weight to the disclosures of Lord Ashley. He, at least,
brings some news and that news we regard as of sufficient importance to
warrant the apprehension of Captain Mortimer and we have so ordered.”
Kearns visibly expressed his astonishment.
“Captain Mortimer,” continued the King, “has, we are aware, performed
gallant military service and his arrest has been so ordered as to
preserve due secrecy and not injure his career should it develop, as
you pretend, that a mistake has been made.”
“It most assuredly has, Sire,” replied Kearns.
“When you are prepared to furnish proof of that fact,” rejoined the
King, “the order can be rescinded. Until then it will stand. It
behooves you to hasten. We leave for our City Palace to-day but shall
return here to-morrow. It would meet our pleasure and win our approval
should you be prepared to furnish such proof, or other report, by
to-morrow.” With these words the King signified that the interview was
at an end.
Somewhat downcast Kearns retired to the room assigned him off the
Chancellerie. The end of his rope seemed near at hand. Here was the
King insisting on a report on the next day and here he was practically
without news. He looked wistfully, as he had so often looked during the
past few days, at the little aërestograph. Ah, if it would only bring
its message!
Kearns regretted that Captain Mortimer should have been brought under
suspicion so undeservedly. Lord Ashley was apparently playing a
peculiar game. He wondered what that game might be. He decided it would
be well to see Lord Ashley and possibly gain some further light on the
subject.
With another wistful glance at the aërestograph, he walked to the door
connecting his room with the main room of the Chancellerie. He opened
the door, pushed aside the heavy portiere hanging before it and passed
in. Lord Ashley proved to be engaged at the moment, but requested that
he return in half an hour.
Kearns accordingly made his way back to his room. As he entered he
halted abruptly and his heart gave a great bound. The aërestograph was
vigorously signaling for someone to receive a message.
With an effort he controlled his excitement, ran to the instrument
and signaled back. Communication established, Dean’s message began to
come. His recent interview with the King in mind, Kearns sent back the
warning message.
In his excitement Kearns could hardly refrain from executing a few
fancy steps. This very night amid the sheltering trees at the further
end of the Queen’s Walk, he would know all! Truly, the news came in the
nick of time! At last fortune was smiling sweetly!
It was with buoyant spirits that Kearns went to his interview with Lord
Ashley half an hour later. The Chancellor met him coldly and proved
extremely reticent. Finally Kearns touched upon the subject of Captain
Mortimer and assured him that he was making a serious mistake in his
accusation. Lord Ashley listened to his assurances with cold cynicism.
He replied shortly that he well knew what he was doing and would be
personally answerable for any mistakes made. At this reply, Mr. Kearns
felt himself growing warm behind the ears and somewhat brusquely
rejoined that in this particular case the noble lord did not know what
he was doing. To this Milord Ashley retorted with a sneer that he
believed one would not need to know much concerning Captain Mortimer
to be in possession of more information on the subject than Mr. Kearns
held.
“Ah, you really think so!” exclaimed Kearns, becoming suddenly cool.
“It is as serious a mistake as the other.”
“Indeed!” retorted Lord Ashley with the same sneer.
“Yes,” rejoined Kearns, “and it may interest you to learn that I have
within the past few minutes been in direct communication with Captain
Mortimer. It is only a question of hours when he will present himself
here to confront you and answer to the King!”
And while the expression of astonishment which this very positive
announcement created still lingered upon Lord Ashley’s features,
Mr. Kearns bowed politely and with a satisfied and triumphant smile
withdrew.
Punctual to the stroke, he repaired at midnight to the appointed spot
at the end of the Queen’s Walk and found Mortimer and Dean already
awaiting him.
“When did you arrive?” asked Kearns, after the first greetings.
“Only a few minutes ago,” answered the Professor. “We came back very
slowly, purposely delaying our arrival until after nightfall, in
accordance with your instructions.”
“And what have you done with the air-ship?”
“We had to descend within the park itself,” replied Dean, “otherwise we
could not have got past the sentries. The air-ship is concealed among
the trees near the river. It will be safe enough until morning.”
Without further delay, Mortimer and Dean told Kearns all the events in
connection with their capture and escape, and what they had learned
during their detention. All they suppressed was any information as to
the precise location of the valley. Kearns listened intently, asking
various questions. He was now, indeed, in a position to present a
completed case! Here was information, in truth, for His Majesty,
the King! How the puny disclosures of Milord Ashley would pale into
insignificance beside such disclosures as these!
Kearns, in turn, narrated the events which had occurred at the palace
since their departure--the wounding of Captain Swords, who was rapidly
recovering; the death of the Duke of Marquanna; the elevation of Lord
Ashley to the office of Chancellor; the investigations started and
accusations launched by the latter, and the order of arrest issued
against Mortimer.
The latter was naturally both astonished and indignant, but not so
much so as Dean, in the light of his past experiences with him, would
have expected. After listening to the end of Kearns’s recital, he said
that he strongly suspected Lord Ashley of personal motives in giving
credence to these suspicions. Lord Ashley, in his present position as
Chancellor, was possessed of a great deal of power and they must act
cleverly and cautiously. The best to be done was to secure, as quickly
as possible, an audience with the King and explain to him all. In
any event, Mortimer insisted it was his duty to communicate promptly
to the King his knowledge of the revolutionary movement. Whether the
threatened attack took place as predicted or not, the King must be
speedily apprized.
But the King’s absence until the morrow made immediate communication
impossible. Kearns suggested that Mortimer and Dean retire to a
neighboring village until the following day. Immediately the King
returned, he would arrange an interview for Mortimer. In this plan
Mortimer refused to acquiesce. He said that as an order of arrest had
been issued against him, it was his duty, as a military officer, to
surrender at once. He did not care to play the fugitive even for one
night. Besides, he added, what difference did it make? It was only a
question of a few hours and, although a prisoner, he would be made
as comfortable as in his own quarters and would be treated with the
consideration due to an officer of the Guard.
As Mortimer could not be dissuaded from his views on this point, it
was finally decided that he should come forward at once and subject
himself to arrest and that Kearns should return as quietly as possible
with Dean to the palace. Immediately upon the arrival of the King upon
the following day, Kearns was to see His Majesty and impart to him such
information as would lead to Mortimer being accorded a prompt interview.
This plan having been decided upon, they walked together along the
further end of the park toward one of the entrances. Presently Mortimer
stopped and, taking leave of them, went forward alone.
“Who goes there!” came the challenge of the sentinel.
“Officer of the Guard,” replied Mortimer.
“Advance, Officer of the Guard, and give the countersign.”
Mortimer walked up to the sentry-box and the soldier, recognizing his
officer, smartly brought his carbine to the salute.
“Send for the officer of the day,” ordered Mortimer.
The soldier reached into the sentry-box and touched a signal.
A few moments later Captain Bingham appeared. There was a cordial
greeting on both sides and then Captain Bingham leaned forward and
whispered something close to Mortimer’s ear.
“Yes, I know!” interrupted Mortimer, and arm in arm they strolled away
in the direction of the military quarters.
CHAPTER VII
FROM BEHIND THE CURTAIN
“So he has returned?” said Lady Brooke.
“Yes,” replied Lord Ashley, “and is a prisoner. I hold him in my grasp.”
“I don’t like that last,” said Lady Brooke. “It sounds vindictive. By
the way, I may say frankly that it’s well he returned just when he did.
I was beginning to grow suspicious.”
“Suspicious, Milady? Of what, may I ask?”
“Of you,” retorted Lady Brooke, with unabashed frankness. “I don’t
forget that though we work together, yet your interests in this matter
are somewhat different from mine. It would doubtless suit you well
enough if he were put out of the way for good and all, but that’s no
part of my plan. My compact was only for a temporary injury--one that
it would be possible to repair readily.”
“It seems to me, Milady, that you always were somewhat given to
suspicion,” retorted Lord Ashley, with a slight sneer.
Lady Brooke reddened and an angry light shone in her eyes.
“It may be well,” she said slowly, “for you to remember, Milord, that
I expect any compact you may make with me to be kept fully and fairly.
Chancellors may be made,” she continued with emphasis, “and they may
also be unmade, if history records aright. I have still some influence
near the Throne, as those who care to question it may find.”
“Royalty, it is said, is rarely grateful for past favors, but I will
admit there are exceptions, Milady,” said Lord Ashley in honeyed
accents.
“Would you care to measure how much that influence is a matter of the
past?” asked Lady Brooke, with concentrated anger. “Would it astonish
you, perhaps, to discover that influence to be greater to-day than
ever?”
“Ah, a dual influence!” exclaimed Lord Ashley. “You have in mind, no
doubt, your charming protégée, the beautiful Miss Cameron, lately
presented by you at Court and incidentally to the attention of His
Majesty.”
“Enough!” exclaimed Lady Brooke, her anger flashing suddenly into
flame; “since you dare----”
“There, there!” interrupted Lord Ashley soothingly. “Don’t let us
quarrel. I have no intention of questioning your power, past or
present, Milady, nor do I seek to have that power turned against me. I
have enemies enough already. Won’t you now listen to my plan?”
“What is it?” asked Lady Brooke, still angry, but grown suddenly wary.
“This,” said Lord Ashley: “At fifteen and a half o’clock to-day,
Captain Haslam, who is the officer of the day, will receive an order
bearing the Royal seal, to release Captain Mortimer. This order he will
immediately execute and then proceed to destroy the order and forget
that he ever received such document. As you know, Captain Haslam is
one of my appointees and he can be trusted implicitly to carry out my
commands. The same messenger who carries the order of release will
leave for Captain Mortimer a letter, requesting him to proceed at once
to the little summer-house on Antler Hill, a short distance away in the
Park, where he will meet the friend who has procured his release and
learn matters of importance to him. Do you follow me thus far, Milady?”
“Yes, yes,” hastily assented Lady Brooke.
“Gratified over this sudden release,” continued Lord Ashley, “and
curious to ascertain who this friend may be and what is to be imparted
to him, it is only natural to infer that Captain Mortimer will lose
no time in making his way to the rendezvous. Needless to say that the
friend he will find there will be--you.”
“Yes,” assented Lady Brooke. “Continue.”
“You will inform him,” proceeded Lord Ashley, “that he is the victim
of a court intrigue; that the King’s mind is poisoned against him for
the time being and that he is in serious danger; that you, knowing
this, have secured his release by a forged order; that his only safety
lies in temporary flight and concealment and that, if he will follow
your instructions, you can surely promise him that within two short
months all danger will have disappeared, when he will be restored to
royal favor and appointed to the Colonelcy of any one of the crack
cavalry regiments he may select--outside of the Guards. By this plan,”
continued Lord Ashley, “we both attain our ends--the temporary removal
of the gallant Captain from the atmosphere of the Court; and you, in
addition, secure control of his person and movements to do with him
practically as you will.”
“But suppose he should refuse the bait?” inquired Lady Brooke. “Suppose
he elects to stay and face the danger?”
“Ah, that is a matter, Milady, which it seems to me lies with you!”
protested Lord Ashley. “I really think you estimate your powers of
persuasion and of--of--attraction too lightly.”
“But suppose he should refuse?” persisted Lady Brooke. “What then?”
“Then,” replied Lord Ashley, “I don’t see that we shall be any worse
off than before. If he refuse, he will simply return to the military
quarters and surrender himself once more. It will be time enough then
to put our heads together and see what further we can do, but by trying
this present plan it affords us at least a chance of success. Remember
that he must have heard something of your influence at Court and you
are certainly holding out a very brilliant inducement to him.”
“Well, I am willing to try,” said Lady Brooke, with determination. “We
shall see what will come of it.”
“And you will succeed!” declared Lord Ashley, with conviction. “I am
positive we shall both succeed!”
Lady Brooke had been gone but a few minutes when Captain Haslam was
announced.
“Captain Haslam,” said Lord Ashley, “at fifteen and a half o’clock
to-day, or perhaps even a little earlier, an order will be presented
to you for the release of Captain Stanley Mortimer, accompanied with
a letter for him. You will have that letter delivered to him at
once and you will immediately release the prisoner. The instant he
leaves the quarters, you will destroy the order and, under any and
all circumstances, you will forever forget that such an order has
ever reached your hands. Whenever the question comes up as to the
disposition of this prisoner, he has escaped. You clearly understand?”
“I clearly understand, Milord,” answered Captain Haslam, as he saluted
and retired.
Lord Ashley’s next visitor was Captain Bagley.
“Captain,” said Lord Ashley abruptly, “you are called upon for a
certain service of state, such as occasionally arises in the affairs of
government. Upon your faithful and discreet performance of that service
depends the matter of future favors and promotion.”
Captain Bagley bowed low, maintaining a respectful silence.
“Your orders are these,” continued Lord Ashley: “At fifteen o’clock
to-day you will proceed to a point in the park where you can observe
the summer-house upon Antler Hill. Conceal yourself from observation
among the trees, or bushes. At about fifteen and three-quarters o’clock
you will observe an escaped prisoner walking along the Stag Walk toward
Antler Hill. That escaped prisoner will be Captain Stanley Mortimer.
Permit him to proceed to Antler Hill, where he will be met by a certain
personage, whom it is not your concern to recognize. Should he leave
Antler Hill in company with that personage, you will permit him to
go unhindered on his way. Should he leave alone and seek to return
in the direction of the military quarters, or the palace, then your
instructions are different. Do you understand thus far?”
“Fully, Milord!” answered Captain Bagley.
“Should he start to return,” continued Lord Ashley, “he cannot possibly
do so until sixteen o’clock, or later. The moment sixteen o’clock has
sounded and you find him upon the return journey, you will come upon
him and shoot him dead. You understand?”
“Fully!” repeated Captain Bagley.
“Your excuse will be that he was an escaping prisoner and that your
life was in danger. For the rest, you may look to me to protect you
fully in your action.”
Captain Bagley bowed.
“You notice here,” continued Lord Ashley, pointing to an instrument
beside the wall, with a large reflector above it, “the sigmagraph. As
you know, it is used to signal the guard house to turn out a guard
of honor and salute when some visitor of rank is about to leave the
Chancellerie. Five flashes of the sigmagraph are the signal for the
guard; any smaller number are mere test signals. At sixteen o’clock,
precisely to the last stroke, you will turn your eyes to the signal
receiver upon the roof of the military quarters. Should no signal come,
you will follow out the instructions given. Should you notice three
flashes from the sigmagraph, then your orders are cancelled and the
escaping prisoner is to be permitted to pass unhindered. Are these
instructions clear to you?”
“Entirely, Milord!” answered Captain Bagley.
“And I can count upon your faithful and discreet performance?”
“Absolutely, Milord!”
“It is well, then,” said Lord Ashley. “Remember that neither His
Majesty, nor the Chancellerie, is unmindful of service and that due
reward attends those who serve His Majesty and His Majesty’s Government
faithfully and well. No better service can be done than to exterminate,
if needs be, traitors and hatchers of treason. I make myself clear to
you in this?”
“Nothing could be clearer, Milord!”
“It would not astonish me, Captain, to see you one day at the head of a
Division.”
“I shall ever strive to earn your approval, Milord Chancellor!” replied
Captain Bagley, as he saluted and retired.
While Lord Ashley was thus occupied in issuing instructions Mr. Kearns
was busily engaged in endeavoring to get in touch with the King. After
diligent inquiry, he ascertained that His Majesty had left the City
Palace and was then upon the return journey. It was, however, not His
Majesty’s intention to return direct, but to stop en route at Fairoaks,
the country estate of Sir Foxhall Sharpe, some thirty miles from the
Summer Palace, where a garden-party to be attended by the King, the
Queen and the Court was to be held that afternoon. It was rumored
in Court circles that the real attraction of the garden-party was a
certain Miss Cameron, to whom recently had been drawn the attention of
the King. The Queen, it was said, had in consequence of the presence
of this Miss Cameron among the guests been with difficulty induced to
lend her presence, only consenting finally in order to prevent the
appearance of a public scandal.
Kearns secured a phaeromobile from the royal garage and hurried off
to Fairoaks, passing as he went a number of court mobiles on the way
to the garden-party. Reaching Fairoaks, he found that the King had
arrived, but had retired to rest after his journey. His Majesty had
given orders that he was not to be disturbed.
It was only after a long and weary wait of more than two hours that
Kearns succeeded in getting his urgent message to the King. His Majesty
sent for him at once, but received him with some show of impatience.
“Well,” said the King, “we assume that your case is completed at last
and that it must be both interesting and important to be forced upon
our attention at the present time!”
“The case is fully completed, Sire,” answered Kearns, “and in
importance will not, I think, disappoint your expectations. I am
prepared to report now.”
“Not now,” interrupted the King. “We would prefer to learn the details
at the palace--upon our return.”
“But the matters I have to impart, Sire, are most pressing--most
urgent!”
“So are matters here,” exclaimed the King, with a peculiar smile.
“Certain rumors--as wicked as they are unfounded--have, it has
reached our ears, been set afloat and have deeply shocked us. It has
become necessary by our presence here, and that of Her Majesty, to
discountenance these scandalous gossipings.”
Mr. Kearns could accommodate his intelligence to that which was
required of him as well as the next man. He accordingly contrived to
inject into his countenance the necessary quantum of astonishment and
indignation and having done this, he promptly returned to the charge.
“It becomes my duty to report to you, Sire,” he said, “that danger
threatens and that an armed attack is projected.”
It was the King’s turn to look startled and astonished.
“When?” he asked.
“Possibly within three days.”
“Are you sure of this?”
“Positive!”
“And can you confirm your facts?”
“Absolutely.”
“How?”
“Through Captain Stanley Mortimer and another.”
“You are sure of this?”
“Entirely so.”
“Ah!”
The King remained for a moment in deep thought.
“Three days,” he murmured. “That will give all the time required for
any concentration of our forces which may be necessary. Two hours
cannot make much difference in these preparations. We will remain here
for that time and then return to the palace.”
“In view of the character of my information,” persisted Kearns, “I
urge you, Sire, to the utmost expedition. I beg you to release Captain
Mortimer at once and to send for him and hear his story.”
“No,” answered the King, “to leave here thus suddenly would create much
undesirable speculation and gossip. This you shall do. We will sign the
order for Captain Mortimer’s release, which you shall bear to him at
once. Direct him to repair to the palace and hold himself in readiness
for an immediate audience. When you have done this, you will hasten
back here and report. By that time we shall be prepared to return to
our palace and listen to the full details of this news. You may now go
and carry out these instructions.”
“You have not yet given me, Sire, the order for Captain Mortimer’s
release.”
The King crossed to a writing-table, hastily wrote the requisite order
and handed it to Kearns.
“We would not lightly affront our Chancellor,” he said. “You will,
therefore, keep Captain Mortimer discreetly out of sight until
our return and until we have gathered from his story whether this
release is fully warranted by the facts. Should you chance to meet
our Chancellor, tell him nothing of this release, but bid him summon
General Pierson, in command of the First Army Corps, to the palace.
Go now, and upon your return here you will find us fully ready to
proceed.”
Kearns bowed and retired. He made his way through the gardens, and,
stepping into his phaeromobile, started on the return journey to the
palace.
As Mr. Kearns passed through the gardens of Fairoaks, he had noticed
among the guests Miss Dorothy Brandon and Miss Beatrice Cuming. They
also had seen him and had bowed. Just as Kearns passed out of the
grounds, Lady Hill, one of Her Majesty’s ladies-in-waiting, came
hurrying forward and greeted Dorothy.
“I have been looking all over for you,” said Lady Hill. “I bring you an
order from the Queen.”
“Yes?” answered Dorothy. “What is it?”
“You are to return at once to the palace,” said Lady Hill, “and present
yourself at the Chancellerie. The Chancellor desires to see you upon
urgent matters.”
Dorothy seemed both startled and astonished.
“The Chancellor desires to see me!” she exclaimed. “What can it be
about? I would prefer not to go.”
“Not go!” answered Lady Hill, who was a great stickler for etiquette,
evidently quite shocked. “Why, my dear, this is a royal command I bring
you.”
“But what can the Chancellor want to see me about?” persisted Dorothy.
“I don’t know,” replied Lady Hill, “except that it is a matter of
state. The Chancellor’s request was addressed to the Queen, in the
usual form--you being attached to Her Majesty’s suite--and the
Chancellor urgently asks your attendance at once. The Queen, of course,
immediately gave this order which I bring you.”
“I would much prefer not to go,” said Dorothy.
“But for what reason?” demanded Lady Hill.
“Oh, it would be much nicer to remain here,” answered Dorothy vaguely.
“Don’t you think I might seek audience with the Queen and ask her to
withdraw the order?”
“Certainly not!” said Lady Hill severely. “Such a proceeding would be
entirely improper and contrary to Court etiquette.”
“Well, but could I not,” persisted Dorothy, “endeavor to arrange this
matter, whatever it is, with the Chancellor over the audiphone?”
“I am not familiar with the etiquette of the Chancellor,” said Lady
Hill frostily; “but I fancy that the Chancellor does not usually
discuss matters of state over the audiphone. As a maid of honor
attached to Her Majesty’s suite, it is your duty not to quibble over
the orders of the Sovereign, but to obey.”
“Very well,” answered Dorothy resignedly. “I shall go at once. Will you
come with me, Trixy?”
“Certainly, my dear,” replied Beatrice.
“It’s too bad we have to go,” remarked Dorothy as they made their way
through the grounds. “I understand there is going to be a splendid
entertainment given later in the afternoon under the supervision of Sir
Richard Hollowboy, the famous Director of Plastics.”
“Yes, it is indeed too bad!” assented Beatrice.
“Well,” continued Dorothy, “I did my best to get out of it.”
“You certainly did,” acquiesced Beatrice, “but there’s no escape. Well,
don’t let’s mind! What can’t be cured must be endured, I suppose!”
They reached the highway, stepped into their victoriamobile and were
off. And thus it happened that the two ladies were following Mr. Kearns
on the highway leading back to the palace.
As for Mr. Kearns he traveled back at a rate of speed which, unused
as he was to such celerity in an open vehicle of this description,
suggested to him ideas that should any sudden breakdown, or other
mishap occur there would be little left of him or the vehicle from
which to pick out the tale. He experienced, however, a sense of
buoyancy and exhilaration from this rapid flashing through the air. He
was glad, though, of the wise provision which divided the Northbound
and Southbound roads, thus obviating at least any possibility of
collision.
Without accident or further adventure he reached the Palace Park and
springing out of the phaeromobile, he ordered the man in charge to
hold himself in readiness for the return journey to Fairoaks. Striding
rapidly toward the military quarters, he was within a few steps of the
main entrance when, to his unbounded astonishment, he saw advancing
toward him Captain Stanley Mortimer.
“How is it you are here?” exclaimed Mr. Kearns in amazement.
“I’ve just been favored with an order of release,” said Mortimer,
smiling.
“How did you manage it?” asked Kearns.
“I don’t quite know, except that the order was from the King,” answered
Mortimer. “But come this way; I’ve something to show you.”
He passed his arm through that of Kearns and led him a short distance
away from the military quarters and out into the park.
“This whole affair has happened in a most curious way,” he said. “A few
minutes ago I was notified of the arrival of the order of release and
at the same time this note was given me. It’s really quite curious!
Read for yourself!”
Kearns took the paper handed to him and read:
“When these lines reach you, they will be accompanied by an order for
your release. This order has been secured by a true and devoted friend,
who desires to see you at once for the purpose of conveying to you
information which it is of the highest importance you should learn at
once. The moment you are released proceed to the summer-house on Antler
Hill, where you will find this friend anxiously awaiting you. You ought
to reach there by sixteen o’clock or a little earlier.”
Twice Mr. Kearns read the note over carefully and then paused
thoughtfully for some moments.
“Well!” he said at last.
“Well--what?” exclaimed Captain Mortimer questioningly.
“What are you going to do?” asked Kearns.
“Why,” exclaimed Mortimer in some astonishment, “I’m going to Antler
Hill, I suppose. Why should I not go?”
“Because I scent a trap of some kind!” replied Kearns with conviction.
“A trap!” exclaimed Mortimer. “You do, eh?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I’m astonished,” exclaimed Mortimer, “but I do not know that
I should hold back. If a friend awaits me there, I wouldn’t like to
appear ungrateful, and if it is, as you suspect, an enemy, I’ve never
yet hesitated to meet my enemies. What makes you think it is a trap?”
“Why so much mystery about this missive? Why is it unsigned? Why should
this friend conceal his name from you?” asked Kearns vehemently.
“Well,” answered Mortimer musingly, “there is some force in what you
say, and yet one can imagine reasons why a friend might not sign such a
communication, especially when his identity is about to be revealed in
the course of an hour.”
“You say the order of release was from the King?”
“Yes.”
“Then I can assure you,” continued Kearns earnestly, “there is
something wrong about this whole transaction. I have here, as you see,
an order for your release given direct into my hands by the King. I
came here in all haste the moment after receiving it. I am convinced
that the King has issued no other order of the same kind and that there
is something wrong in connection with that other order which released
you.”
“This looks indeed strange!” admitted Mortimer, with a serious air.
“Furthermore,” resumed Kearns, “when the King gave me that order, it
was entrusted to me with the condition that I keep you quietly in the
background until the King received you in audience and judged matters
for himself. I accepted the order under this condition and I feel bound
by it.”
“That entirely alters the complexion of matters,” declared Mortimer. “I
would not willingly by any act of mine place you in a false position.
But won’t you go to Antler Hill and explain to the person who may be
waiting there why it is I am unable to appear in person? Any danger
which may await me would surely not extend to you.”
“I would only too gladly go,” replied Kearns, “but I’m ordered to
return to the King as soon as I have you in readiness for the coming
audience. I don’t care to send another to the summer-house, though I am
most curious to learn who may be the person awaiting you there.”
“And so am I!”
“Well, don’t worry,” retorted Kearns. “Friend or foe, you may depend
upon it we shall discover who that person is before long. As you know,
I have had some experience in matters of this kind.”
“What is it, then, you wish me to do now?” asked Mortimer.
“Accompany me to the palace,” replied Kearns. “I shall leave you in
my private bureau in the Chancellerie until the time comes for your
audience with the King.”
“I am at your disposition,” answered Mortimer simply.
“One question I want to ask you,” said Kearns. “Have you communicated
with anybody since your return?”
“With no one,” replied Mortimer. “I was naturally not anxious to
advertise the fact of my being under arrest.”
“That was very wise,” remarked Kearns. “Now let us go.”
They accordingly made their way direct to the palace and entered
Kearns’s bureau off the main room of the Chancellerie.
“Now,” exclaimed Kearns, “I invite you to make yourself as comfortable
as possible here until audience time comes. It will be only a couple of
hours or so.”
“Very well,” assented Mortimer cheerfully.
“More than this,” continued Kearns, “knowing your propensity for
running into adventures of various kinds and in view of my promise to
the King, I am going to ask you to pledge me your word of honor that
you won’t leave this room during the next two hours.”
“Ah,” demurred Mortimer, smiling; “that’s a hard promise to exact. Who
can tell what may turn up within two hours?”
“Well,” assented Kearns, “I will allow you to make your promise with
the qualification: Except in case of possible life or death. I have,
then, your word?”
“Have it your own way, since you insist,” exclaimed Mortimer. “Yes; you
have my word that I will not cross the threshold of this room within
the next two hours, unless it is a question of possible life or death.”
“Now I can proceed upon my errand with a mind at ease,” said Kearns,
with a satisfied air. “Oh, by the way, I had almost forgotten! I have a
message from the King for Lord Ashley.”
As he spoke, he walked to the door of communication, pushed aside the
heavy portiere, opened the door, threw aside the corresponding portiere
on the other side and passed into the main room of the Chancellerie.
A moment later he returned, with preoccupied air.
“Nobody there!” he exclaimed. “It’s a holiday and everybody has taken
advantage of it. Well, I’m off to Fairoaks now. Within two hours I
expect I shall be back and--so will the King!” With these words he
hurried from the room and away.
After Kearns’s departure, Mortimer strolled to the window and looked
over the park. Then he stretched himself out comfortably with a book
and read. He had been reading but a very short time, when voices came
to him from the adjoining main room of the Chancellerie. An instant
later he sprang to his feet, a flood of color flushing his face. In
returning from the Chancellerie to his bureau, Mr. Kearns had failed
fully to close the door of communication and now only the two portieres
intervened between the rooms. Do what he would, Mortimer could not but
hear.
More distinctly came the voices to him, as the minutes passed. He
stood with strained features and eyes ablaze. Then his hand flew to his
sword-hilt and he strode forward. Two steps he took and abruptly halted.
Merciful God! Why was he thus chained here? Why had he pledged his
word, except under stress of possible life or death, not to cross the
threshold of this room?
CHAPTER VIII
IN THE CHANCELLERIE
“His Excellency, the Chancellor, desires to see Miss Brandon upon
official business and alone,” said the messenger.
“You will wait for me, Trixy?” asked Dorothy of her companion.
“I have a letter to send off, dear,” answered Beatrice, “and I will go
to your desk and write it. I suppose you will be back to me before I
have finished.”
“Yes, yes,” assented Dorothy, with preoccupied air, as she turned to
the messenger and indicated her readiness to follow him.
Lord Ashley received her in the main room of the Chancellerie. The
messenger who ushered her in withdrew, and they were alone.
Lord Ashley advanced with deferential courtesy to receive her and led
her to a seat at the head of a long, highly-polished table in the
centre of the room. He drew up a chair and seated himself at the side
of the table, in order to bring himself almost face to face with her.
“I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Brandon,” he began, “for having thus
hastily asked your attendance. I trust you will not regret too much
having missed the pleasures of the garden-party.”
“I confess,” answered Dorothy, “I was astonished upon learning the
urgency of your summons and quite unable to guess its cause. Even now
I--”
“You are still at a loss,” rejoined Lord Ashley promptly, as she
hesitated. “It may be summed up in two words--official business.”
“Official business!” repeated Dorothy. “So the message said. But what
possible connection can there be between me and the official business
of the Chancellerie?”
“It does seem peculiar, doesn’t it?” laughed Lord Ashley pleasantly,
“but that is precisely what I am about to explain to you. There is
a matter regarding which you can, perhaps, furnish me with some
information--information which has only an indirect bearing, no doubt,
but which may possibly be of some value to His Majesty’s Government.”
“Indeed? To what does this matter relate?”
“It is connected with the recent disappearance of Captain Stanley
Mortimer.”
Dorothy started and perceptibly changed color.
“You astonish me!” she exclaimed. “In what way can I possibly assist
you in this?”
“You remember the occasion of the last Court ball?” asked Lord Ashley.
“Yes.”
“That night was also the occasion of the wounding of Captain Swords and
of the disappearance of Captain Mortimer, as you will recall.”
“Yes.”
“The last known appearance in public of Captain Mortimer,” continued
Lord Ashley, “was at the ball, where he had the honor of dancing with
you.”
“Yes, he danced with me.”
“After which,” resumed Lord Ashley, “you both made the customary
promenade and conversed together.”
“We passed into the royal conservatory.”
“So that,” said Lord Ashley, with a pleasant smile, “you are the last
person with whom Captain Mortimer is known to have been seen on that
eventful night.”
“I was not aware of that.”
“Such is the case, however.”
“Well, even so, what then----?”
“Simply this,” replied Lord Ashley, with the same pleasant smile;
“it has been deemed advisable to ask you if, in the course of his
conversation with you that evening, Captain Mortimer permitted any
remarks to fall which would tend to throw light upon his subsequent
disappearance.”
Dorothy paused, hesitatingly.
“Was he not engaged that night upon some special service for the King?”
she asked.
“Engaged upon special service for the King!” exclaimed Lord Ashley,
with a mocking laugh. “No; I regret to say that he was engaged upon
very different service.”
“I don’t understand, Milord.”
“Then I will make myself perfectly clear,” said Lord Ashley, with
emphasis. “Far from being engaged in His Majesty’s service that night,
Captain Mortimer was conspiring with and aiding the enemies of the
King.”
“Oh, monstrous!” exclaimed Dorothy with agitation. “I am convinced
there is no truth in this.”
“I would that I could join you in this belief,” said Lord Ashley
bitterly, “for the sake of the reputation of the army in general and of
the Guards in particular. Unfortunately, the proofs in possession of
His Majesty’s government are conclusive. Captain Mortimer has been led
from the path of his duty to King and Government--has been led to his
ruin--by yielding to temptations extended by the King’s enemies.”
“I am convinced there is some mistake,” replied Dorothy. There was a
numb sensation in her brain and at her heart, yet she spoke the words
bravely.
“Mistake!” repeated Lord Ashley. “Alas, no! The Government has in its
possession proofs establishing Captain Mortimer’s connection with
certain revolutionary factions to which he has given information and
active aid. A search of his quarters subsequent to his disappearance
revealed the presence of plans of fortifications and schedules as
to the disposition of His Majesty’s forces of a most compromising
character.”
Dorothy had recovered from the first shock of the Chancellor’s
disclosures and all her senses were now alert.
“It does not seem probable,” she said slowly, “that a person about to
disappear would leave all these compromising matters behind, when it
would have been so easy to have destroyed them.”
“Ah!” retorted Lord Ashley quickly, “but this disappearance was not
premeditated. The necessity for it arose suddenly and in an unforeseen
manner.”
“Indeed!”
“Yes,” continued Lord Ashley. “Captain Mortimer was involved in the
various scandalous attempts which have been made at times upon the
peace and dignity of His Majesty--attempts involving the depositing of
threatening and seditious documents in the royal apartments. Upon the
occasion of the last of these attempts, Captain Mortimer had reason to
believe he was recognized and his acts discovered by the officer on
duty that night; hence the attempted assassination of Captain Swords
and the sudden disappearance which followed.”
Dorothy sank back in her chair, white and trembling.
“Ah!” she exclaimed with emotion, “you accuse him of murder as well as
of treason!”
“Such are the facts to which the proofs in the possession of the
Government point,” answered Lord Ashley impressively.
“But,” said Dorothy, gathering her courage and fighting on bravely,
“what possible motive could Captain Mortimer have for doing these
things? He is a soldier with a brilliant record; he holds an enviable
position in the army; why should he do these things? What motive could
there be?”
“There are circumstances and temptations which lie so far apart from
you and your life, Miss Brandon,” said Lord Ashley with an air of
great candor, “that they are difficult to explain to you, and it is
not wonderful that you should not understand them. These revolutionary
movements are backed by men of large means, who have their own personal
aims and ambitions. In addition to this, there are the subscriptions of
disaffected masses which, when lumped together, run into vast sums. The
Reactionist cause, I can assure you, does not lack money.”
“I follow your words, but I don’t fully understand their import,” said
Dorothy.
“I will be more explicit,” rejoined Lord Ashley. “You asked me what
could be the motive for Captain Mortimer’s acts, and I answer you
by saying that there are ample funds at the disposition of these
revolutionists, who do not hesitate to purchase treason. Money--that
magnet of temptation which has led astray so many men--was the motive.
Captain Mortimer, like many other officers of the army, was addicted to
heavy play; he was pressed for money and it was with money that he was
debauched.”
“Are there no limits to the calumnies--no depths to the infamies
charged?” cried Dorothy with indignation and despair.
“It does sound infamous,” replied Lord Ashley gravely, “so infamous
as to seem, to an upright mind like yours, almost incredible. But
such are the facts, and these facts, as I have already had the honor
of apprizing you, are supported by proofs in the possession of the
Government.”
“But so-called proof at times turns out to be error,” retorted Dorothy.
“There are, it is true, various grades of proof,” replied Lord Ashley
with judicial solemnity. “In this case, the proofs in the hands of the
Government are convincing. They are absolute and incontestable. There
is no error.”
For one brief instant Dorothy sat irresolute. Here was the Chancellor
of the Empire--a man of responsibility and power--assuring her that
there were incontestable proofs of guilt. He told, with judicial
calmness and force, a story detailed and circumstantial of conspiracy
and treason and the motive therefor. For the second time this tale of
passion for play had reached her. What was she to believe? What should
be her decision? Ah! the answer to her was easy; only for the briefest
instant did she hesitate! How false the first accusation had proved!
Had he not looked into her eyes, in the gardens of the King, and had
she not felt that only honor and truth lay behind his refuting words?
How she had reproached herself then for her lack of faith! Never again
would she dishonor him with one thought of mistrust. Let circumstances
be what they would, let suspicion point as it might, never again would
she permit herself the slightest doubt! She raised her head and looked
keenly at Lord Ashley.
“During this interview,” she said, “you have spoken of treason, of
attempted murder and of mercenariness. You say there are proofs of
these things. I can only answer you that I am convinced these proofs
are false. Does Captain Swords, for instance, assert that it was
Captain Mortimer who fired that shot?”
“Captain Swords did not see his assailant, although his assailant
doubtless thought he did,” answered Lord Ashley. “Besides, Captain
Swords is as deceived as to the true character of Captain Mortimer as
others have been.”
“You will have to count me, then, among the friends who believe
steadfastly in him as the soul of loyalty and honor!” said Dorothy with
spirit. “I don’t suppose,” she continued, “I can dissuade you from the
opinions you have formed, and I am very sure that you cannot change
mine on this subject. It is painful to me to hear one whom I respect
falsely accused, and I don’t see what can well be gained by further
discussing this matter. In fact, Milord, I don’t quite understand
why--why--this interview was sought.”
“I have already tendered my apologies,” replied Lord Ashley gently,
“and explained that you were the last person with whom Captain Mortimer
was seen. The Government is desirous of learning whether, during the
conversation with you upon that occasion, Captain Mortimer permitted
any remark to escape him which might throw any light upon the matter of
this disappearance, or other acts of his.”
“Captain Mortimer indulged in no such remark,” answered Dorothy briefly.
“But you have already said that he told you he was engaged that night
upon some special service for the King,” persisted Lord Ashley.
“He did say he was engaged that night upon some special service, but
I am not sure that he added it was for the King. That, I think, was a
mere inference on my part.”
“And a very natural inference under the circumstances,” replied Lord
Ashley with warmth, “but the assertion was false!”
“I know nothing except the bare statement made to me,” answered Dorothy.
“Will you not narrate the circumstances which led up to that
statement?” asked Lord Ashley. “Will you not detail the entire
conversation which took place between you? You see,” he added, “there
may have been words with little meaning for you, which nevertheless
would mean much for the officers of His Majesty’s Government, in view
of the facts which they know and the clues which they possess.”
Dorothy hesitated an instant.
“I have said to you,” she replied, “that no such remarks passed between
us.”
“I have explained that you are scarcely in a position to judge
accurately as to this,” went on Lord Ashley inexorably. “Will you not
repeat, for the benefit of the Government, the conversation which
occurred, so that the Government may judge for itself as to this
matter?”
“No,” replied Dorothy coldly. “The conversation was of a private
character--one with which the Government has no concern. I have assured
you that no remarks such as you seek were made. Beyond this I will not
go!”
“Then I am to understand,” said Lord Ashley regretfully, “that you
prefer to render possible aid to this traitor rather than to the King
and Queen from whom you hold a post of honor and whom you profess to
serve?”
“I reject the charge of treachery as to myself, as I do the name
traitor as applied to Captain Mortimer,” replied Dorothy with spirit.
“Your insinuation of disloyalty on my part,” she added sadly, “is
unjust--undeserved. I serve the Queen honestly and loyally. To her I
would willingly repeat what I here refuse to say.”
“Do not be angry with me!” exclaimed Lord Ashley warmly, drawing nearer
to her. “I meant no offense, but I was carried away by my feelings. It
distresses me to see you--whose regard would do an emperor honor--place
trust in and defend a renegade and traitor--a scoundrel who has been
false to his King.”
“Ah!” exclaimed Dorothy, shrinking back, “this is terrible! I have told
you I do not believe--I do not believe!”
“Listen, then,” cried Lord Ashley, pressing still nearer, “and learn
now the full truth. He has been captured and is at this minute a
prisoner--in close confinement--in the military quarters.”
“Then,” exclaimed Dorothy with excitement, “he will have an opportunity
of speaking for himself, and the truth will stand forth!”
“He has spoken! The truth is out!”
“What do you mean?”
“He has confessed--confessed to his treason!”
“Impossible--oh, impossible!” cried Dorothy distractedly.
“I tell you it is so,” continued Lord Ashley vehemently, “and still
more will I tell you. As a reward for this confession, which has
implicated others and given the Government much valuable information,
and also to save the Guards’ corps from the shame of having harbored a
scoundrel and a traitor, he is not to be made to suffer the penalty of
his crimes. I have permitted an arrangement to be made for his escape,
and he has gladly acquiesced.”
“You say he has acquiesced to such a thing!” exclaimed Dorothy with an
air of bewilderment.
“Yes,” retorted Lord Ashley, “and is at this moment on his way to some
place of security and oblivion. Now, I beg you to listen to me,” he
continued with fervor. “I beseech you--I implore you--to put from your
mind all further thought of this man, whose name is unworthy of mention
in your presence. He has merited death, but has escaped with shame as
his portion henceforth. Let us dismiss him from our thoughts. There is
another and more honorable matter regarding which I would speak to you.
Miss Brandon--Dorothy--I love you!”
“Milord----”
“Yes, I love you,” he continued, with the abandon of a man carried
away by the force of his feelings, “and I offer you a union which
the proudest woman in the realm might find worthy of acceptance. His
Majesty, the King, has already signified to me that my appointment
as Lord Chancellor is to be followed shortly by my elevation to the
Peerage. In fact, I may confide to you that the form of such title has
already been selected.”
“Milord, I----”
“Nay, hear me to the end,” he continued with passionate fervor; “it
is more than mere title which I have to offer. As wife of a Lord
Chancellor who will know how to extend the influence and power of his
high office, you will find yourself in a position of social supremacy
which will place you second only to the Queen herself. At a word from
you, social careers will be made or marred; at a nod of approval
from you, a fashion will spring into life, or be set aside. Men of
the world and men of the Court will respect and fear your power,
while women will fawn and flatter for your favor. Rank, title, power,
influence--all these I offer you, and, moreover, boundless devotion and
immeasurable love. What can I give more?”
He paused and waited. Dorothy sat with bowed head and shifting color
and made no sign. Could this, Ashley wondered, be the silence of
rejection, or was it merely the hesitation natural to maidenly reserve?
Reared throughout his life among soldiers and statesmen possessed
of aims and ambitions, himself possessed of a boundless lust for
preferment and power, Lord Ashley’s tendency was to regard ambition as
the all-alluring fetish, the resistless lever, with which to sway human
impulse and human action. Furthermore, his actual experiences in his
immediate surroundings had tended to impress him with the accuracy of
this theory. What he had offered was sufficiently brilliant, as he had
said, to be worthy of the acceptance of the proudest woman in the land.
Nor had he overstated his case. He was really in a position to give all
he tendered. She would surely not refuse! What woman would? At last she
spoke.
“I fully realize, Milord, the extent of all you have been good enough
to offer me,” she said, “and I appreciate the honor you do me. I am
glad, too, to learn of the new distinctions which await you and pleased
to be the first to congratulate you.”
“And you accept?” he cried joyfully, as he bent nearer to her. “You
will say--yes?”
“No, no,” she exclaimed hastily, as she shrunk back; “I cannot--I
cannot--accept.”
“You--cannot--accept!” he cried blankly. “And--why?”
She remained silent.
“Why?” he repeated.
Still there was no answer.
“You are not pledged to another?”
“Surely that is something you should not ask.”
“But I do ask it,” he cried vehemently, springing to his feet, his
face pale with anger. “Do you think I am blind--that I cannot surmise!
You have been bewitched by that traitor whose crimes I have laid bare
before you. In spite of his misdeeds and his shame, you still cling
to a mad infatuation, a wild hope, instead of accepting an honorable
union. It is the perversity which has marked and marred so many of your
sex through the ages. But I am not a man to be thus flaunted and put
aside. This silly infatuation, this foolish love of yours can never be
realized, for it is given to one who is dead!”
“Dead!” repeated Dorothy, turning pale to the lips. “What do you mean?”
“Ah! I’ll tell you!” said Lord Ashley, beside himself with anger. “This
man deserved death, but the Government, on the score of policy, was
opposed to the notoriety arising from his public trial and execution.
It was accordingly decided that he should be afforded opportunities
of escape and that he should either be allowed to gain his freedom
and hide his perfidy and shame in some obscure corner of the world,
or else that the death he so well merited should be dealt out to him
while effecting this escape--in other words, a private execution of
justice in place of a public one. This question was referred to certain
officers of the Government, who in turn left the whole question to me.
In the goodness of my heart, I wavered and delayed my decision until
the last moment, making the execution dependent upon a certain signal
to be given by me. At this very moment the man is escaping. His life
depends upon the signal which I shall give.”
“But this is murder!” cried Dorothy desperately, springing to her feet.
“It is a judicial execution,” said Lord Ashley sternly, “and one that
would be approved by every army officer and every loyalist in the
country were the facts known.”
“I will shout this infamy broadcast,” cried Dorothy, wild-eyed and
gasping.
“Bah!” exclaimed Lord Ashley with sarcasm, “your utterances will be
known merely as the wild ravings of an infatuated woman! What will they
weigh against official declarations and the military reports as to the
escape and what followed? Such utterances will simply bring notoriety
and discredit upon you.”
“Have you no mercy?”
“None,” he answered inflexibly. “Hear me now for the last time. That
instrument against the wall yonder is a sigmagraph. A touch of its
electric button causes a flash of light to appear upon the reflector
above it, which is transmitted to the receiver upon the roof of the
military quarters. In just eight and one-half minutes, sixteen o’clock
will sound. If, before the last stroke dies away, three flashes of
light are cast from that reflector, mercy will have prevailed and the
traitor will be permitted to make good his escape. If no such signal be
given he dies.”
“This is horrible--horrible!” repeated Dorothy, aghast “You will surely
show mercy and not hold back that signal!”
“Only upon one condition.”
“And that is?” cried Dorothy desperately.
“I am but human,” said Lord Ashley, speaking rapidly, “and to purchase
my happiness I will forego meting out strict justice. In the palace
chapel, at this very moment, is the royal chaplain. At a command from
me he can be in this room within two minutes; within two more the words
can be spoken which will constitute a binding ceremony. The brilliant
public ceremony can come later. Speak but the word. I will summon the
chaplain and--this man lives. His fate is in your hands!”
“No, no!” protested Dorothy, “I cannot--cannot!”
“Then he dies!”
Lord Ashley turned aside. He drew a cigarette-case from his pocket,
extracted a cigarette and, crossing the room to a side table, lighted
it. Walking over to the sigmagraph, he took up his post with his back
turned to it.
“Four minutes only are left to you,” he said ominously, as he drew out
his watch.
His words came to his listener as an electric shock. She roused herself
from her momentary lethargy and despair.
“Will you not be moved to justice?” she cried. “Don’t you see that
what you ask cannot be? I could never know happiness--never make you
happy. I should forever have this scene before my eyes--this scene of
blood--of treachery!”
“I have told you it is a judicial execution--none the less judicial and
proper because justice is meted out privately rather than publicly.
High affairs of state under all governments not infrequently demand
such a course--a course which in reality shows undeserved mercy to him.”
“Mercy! mercy! This you call mercy!”
“It is the only mercy I will show him, unless----”
“Don’t say this! You will not permit this wicked, treacherous deed! You
will save him! You will give the signal--say that you will give the
signal!”
“Three minutes!”
“No, no! Don’t count. You drive me mad! Is there nothing will move you
to pity--nothing turn you from this----”
“I’ve already told you. His fate lies with you!”
“No, no--not that! This cannot--must not be! Anything but that----”
“Then it is you who condemn him by your own act!”
“My own act! I, who would gladly die to save him! But no, it is not
my act--not my act! I cannot--I will not do what will bring horror,
misery, degradation!”
“You speak of a union with the Chancellor of the Realm as degradation?”
“A union with any man when a woman’s whole heart and soul are given
to another means misery, degradation. How can you ask it of me--how
yourself consent! For I love him--I love him--I love only him!”
“Two minutes!”
“You don’t realize--you don’t understand! I tell you no, no, this
cannot--this must not be. Anything else you ask, but not that! For your
own happiness spare me--for your own conscience--your own future peace,
save him!”
“Not all the angels in heaven, or devils in hell, shall turn me from my
path! You are sacrificing everything to a woman’s whim. Time will teach
you forgetfulness of this folly and--love!”
“A woman’s whim! Ah, the wise Chancellor understands so little of women
that he thinks them mere butterflies. But I say to you that when a
woman’s spirit is once profoundly stirred, she becomes more firm, more
implacable, than the sternest man among you all! Her love knows no
measure, no reason, no calculation; her hate has no weakening. Were I
to become your wife, I could never forget that the man I adore had been
torn from me by force and fraud. My thoughts would always be of him; my
only moments of happiness those when I closed my eyes and cheated my
senses with the dream that I lay within his arms. The honor, the rank,
the titles you offer me, would be nothing, for would they not have been
bought at the price of his--of my--happiness! And you--I should hate
you!”
“Less than one minute!”
“Less than one minute! And you will permit this crime! You will let him
go to his death--my sweetheart--my handsome, gallant sweetheart! No,
you will not! You are too noble, too generous!”
“You cannot move me!”
“Do you not see that I shall go mad if you kill him? Say that you will
give the signal--that you will give the signal!”
“Your last moment of opportunity is rapidly passing. Will you save him?”
“O God--my God!”
“Hear! the hour strikes!”
“The signal--the signal! Give the signal!”
“Not unless you pledge yourself before the last stroke sounds.”
“The signal!”
“Never!”
“A-a-h!”
With a scream she turned suddenly and ran from him to the little table
upon which stood the electric lighter. Over her shoulders was a light,
loose scarf, which she had worn as part of her garden-party costume.
She tore it from her and thrust it into the flame of the electric
lighter. In an instant the delicate material had caught the flames
and, before Lord Ashley could divine her intention, she rushed to the
sigmagraph’s indicator and upon its sensitized surface flashed the
light thrice; but not before her gown at sleeves and bosom caught in
flame.
Lord Ashley, recovering from the first shock of surprise, sprang
toward her, dashed the burning scarf to the floor and with a few rapid
movements smothered the flames at work upon her frock.
“What have you done?” he cried staring at the injury to her dainty
white flesh. “Do you realize that you have placed your life in peril?”
She was dazed and half fainting from the pain of her injuries, and he
supported her to a divan at the further end of the apartment.
“Do you realize what you have done?” he repeated.
But despite the pain, despite the fact that she felt her senses were
leaving her, the thought of Mortimer’s safety was still uppermost in
her mind.
“The signal--the signal,” she moaned hysterically, “was the signal
given in time? Is he safe? Oh, tell me that he is safe! See--see!”
A shriek broke from her. She sat staring straight before her as one
seized with a paralysis of fear.
Lord Ashley perceived the look; there was no mistaking its mingled
horror and fascinated fear. Abruptly he turned to ascertain its cause.
There within a few feet of him, with pallid features so distorted with
rage as to be scarcely human, tall and majestic, the very embodiment of
fury, his eyes ablaze with the sullen fires of vengeance, stood Captain
Stanley Mortimer. A situation releasing him from his promise--the
question of life or death which alone permitted him to cross the
threshold of that room--had arisen. He now stood freed from his pledge.
For a moment the two men faced each other, glaring into each other’s
eyes. Then the torrent of wrath surging within Mortimer found an outlet
in words.
“Scoundrel! Liar!” he hissed between his set teeth.
“What!” cried Lord Ashley, his anger kindling, as fire kindles amid
straw. “You dare to apply those epithets to me--the King’s Chancellor!”
“It is as man to man that we now speak,” retorted Mortimer, struggling
with his rage. “Take your sword and defend your life!” He pointed
across the apartment and through the open doorway of Lord Ashley’s
private bureau. Against the wall, amid a panoply of arms, could be seen
hanging the sword which the Chancellor had used during the earlier days
of the Russian war.
“I refuse to fight you,” said Lord Ashley. “I shall summon the guard
and have you returned to the confinement from which you have escaped.
Before you can claim the right to cross swords as an equal, you must
first clear yourself of the stigma of treason which at present defiles
you!”
“You refuse!” retorted Mortimer, with a gesture of contempt. “Your
refusal will avail you little. I will throttle you to death where you
stand. What!” he continued, with biting sarcasm, “can it be possible
that the uniform of the Guards has at one time covered the breast of a
liar, a traducer and a--_coward_!”
As this final word left Mortimer’s lips, Lord Ashley’s face in turn
became suffused with rage. With all the faults, even crimes into which
his ambition had led him in the course of his pyramidal career, one
virtue was yet left him, that of physical courage. With a snarl of
rage, he turned sharply and bounded across the room to where his sword
hung. Back he ran, drawing the weapon and flinging the scabbard to one
side as he advanced on Mortimer, awaiting him with drawn blade and
the light of battle in his eyes. Crouched in one corner of the divan,
moaning and hysterical, lay Dorothy.
The swords crossed with a clash. Mortimer was widely famed in the
service for his skill as a swordsman, but upon this occasion he
was fairly matched, and rarely could there have been seen a finer
exhibition of swordsmanship. There were lightning feints and thrusts
and parries, brilliant grand assaults and equally brilliant defenses
upon either side. The black eyes of Ashley glared into the blue eyes
of Mortimer, and each pair of eyes flashed forth the murder which was
in the hearts behind them. Backward and forward they advanced and
retreated, feinting and thrusting, slashing and parrying. At first,
the rage which possessed Mortimer had rendered him less cool and wary
than was to be desired, and so placed him at a slight disadvantage.
Twice Ashley managed to touch lightly and these wounds, slight as they
were, served as a vent for Mortimer’s overwrought feelings and lent
to him, in some degree, the necessary coolness and caution. He could
feel the blood trickling down his sleeve, as he skillfully parried a
fierce assault. The tingling of the wounds in arm and shoulder came
pleasurably to his overwrought spirit. Suddenly he feinted toward the
neck. Up flew Ashley’s weapon in defense. Then, swift as a shaft of
light, Mortimer’s sword-arm shot out in a straight and deadly thrust.
It passed just under Ashley’s guard, and the point of Mortimer’s sword
went home just below the median line. Such was the force and fury of
the thrust that Mortimer’s blade ran through to the hilt. With an
upward fling of the arms, Ashley crashed backward to the floor, in a
heap.
CHAPTER IX
THE LAST STAND OF THE GUARDS
A murmur--faint at first--gradually swelling until it merged into a
positive cry of alarm! A strange confusion without the gates, which
rapidly communicated to the grounds within; the sharp blasts of a
bugle; shouts of command; the movements of men; cries, confusion--then
a panic among the guests and a promiscuous dash to gain the shelter
of the mansion! It all came with the vividness and rapidity of a
thunderbolt!
The garden-party at Fairoaks had promised well to be spoken of as
a red-letter social event. The guests had been royally amused. The
presence of the King and Queen had lent a special luster to the
occasion and then, too, there was the beautiful Miss Cameron, affording
opportunity alike for observation and for gossip. The entertainment,
under the direction of Sir Richard Hollowboy, Imperial and Royal
Director of Pyrotechnics and Plastics, had been a huge success. Sir
Richard had more than sustained his high reputation; upon this occasion
he had fairly eclipsed himself.
Among the features of Sir Richard’s entertainment were a series of what
Sir Richard was pleased to term, “Fifteen-o’clock Fireworks”--this
designation being presumably intended to create the impression of
fireworks by daylight. The “daylight fireworks,” as a matter of fact,
consisted of certain really wonderful smoke effects in the air,
representing extremely interesting and well-executed tableaux.
One of the most colossal reproductions was attracting the interest of
the guests when suddenly something of a most startling nature occurred.
From all four points of the compass there appeared, as if coming
from the sky itself, a number of strange aërial forms, which massed
themselves about the gigantic figure in the air and hovered directly
above the grounds of the garden-party. Fantastic forms of varying sizes
were these strange apparitions--forms which suggested somewhat the
outlines of a ship, or boat; but then--who ever saw a ship, or a boat,
floating in mid-air? Someone whispered that they formed part of the
entertainment; yet there was something too material, too realistic,
about them to warrant this belief. And were not those human forms
moving about in them?
Outside the gates of Fairoaks, too, strange events were occurring. The
two sentries at the gates, stationed there because of the presence of
their Majesties, noticed a number of peculiarly constructed mobiles
suddenly make their appearance in the highway. These mobiles stopped
before the grounds of Fairoaks and the foremost advanced as if to
make its way through the gates. There was something suspicious about
the general appearance and movements of these mobiles, and one of the
sentries promptly challenged.
His answer was a sudden flash of rifle barrels, a point-blank volley
and, shot through head and breast, the sentry dropped dead in his
tracks. His companion, apparently unwounded, hastily dodged behind
the high stone wall and, with a ringing shout, gave the alarm to his
fellow-guardsmen, comfortably encamped upon one of the wide-stretching
lawns a short distance away.
In an instant, the guards were up and doing. Through the gateway they
swarmed and into the roadway. They were met by rifle fire from the
mobiles, which, however, immediately beat a hasty retreat. The guards,
several of their number wounded, started in pursuit, led by Captains
Farquharson and Bingham. The huge aërial shapes which had been hovering
over the grounds, now made movement and rapidly changed their positions
until they floated over the highway, immediately above the pursuing
guards.
Now followed a scene which was as novel in its form of attack as it
was effective and terrible. The air-ships--for it was now plainly to
be seen that air-ships they were--began raining down missiles, in the
form of exploding bombs, upon the advancing soldiers. Some of these
missiles struck the men direct and killed them outright, while others
fell upon the hard bed of the highway and exploded, carrying death and
destruction in wide circles.
In less than a minute the highway was filled with a long track of dead
and wounded men, and still the deadly missiles continued to rain down.
Further pursuit of the mobiles was obviously impossible. Farquharson
and Bingham halted their men. Several volleys were fired at the
air-ships, but this fire was utterly ineffective. They were either
bullet-proof or out of range.
Unless the officers would see the extermination of the entire command
there in the highway, evidently the only thing to be done was to find
shelter immediately for the men--the shelter of the mansion. Besides,
in view of this attack, prudence suggested rallying the guards around
the person of the King.
The command was accordingly given to retreat, in extended order, upon
the house. This movement was only executed with further loss, as the
air-ships continued to follow up and attack. In approaching and passing
through the gateway leading into the grounds, the men were necessarily
more or less massed, and here the loss was heavy. Captains Farquharson
and Bingham stationed themselves at the approaches to this gateway,
awaiting the passage of the last man, in order that they themselves
might be the last to pass through. It was here that Captain Farquharson
fell. His brother officer bent over him, in the endeavor to lend him
aid, but one glance was sufficient to show him that all hope here was
past. Then, coolly as if on parade, he made his way through the grounds
and was the last to enter the house.
His first act was to make provision for defense. He stationed his
men upon the broad main stairway and also in position to command the
windows at the ground and first stories upon all four sides of the
house. To attempt to station any men upon the roof was obviously
useless, as they would be destroyed from above by the air-ships, which
had been the fate of the men in the highway. His wounded he disposed
of as best he could, and the royal party and the guests he gathered
together in one group in the big drawing-rooms on the second floor.
His next thought was of those outside who had been wounded, and he
organized a small corps of men, under Lieutenant Richmond Dobson, to
go out under a flag of truce and bring them in. This corps started
out, but returned in a very few minutes empty-handed. Lieutenant
Dobson reported that the air-ships had strictly respected the flag
of truce, but at the gateway he had been met by a similar signal
from the mobiles. The person in command of this party, who wore a
peculiarly-shaped gold star upon his left shoulder, had informed
Lieutenant Dobson that he could not be permitted to proceed, but
that his wounded would be cared for. The attacking party, he was
informed, had ample surgical assistance with them for this purpose.
The Lieutenant had then been requested to return to the mansion and
bear a message to the officer in command to the effect that unless an
unconditional surrender was made within five minutes an attack upon the
mansion itself would be begun.
“Oh!” exclaimed Captain Bingham fiercely, “it looks as if they were
well-organized and well-prepared, but we are at least under some
shelter here. Did you inquire in whose name this command was made?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And what was the answer?”
“That it was made in the name of the General commanding the First Army
Corps of the New Republic.”
“What! A general in command--the First Army Corps!” muttered Captain
Bingham. “That sounds like a comprehensive organization. It looks
serious!”
At this moment a servant of the house approached with word that His
Majesty wished to see Captain Bingham and hear his report.
Captain Bingham accordingly went upstairs and communicated to the King
all he had learned.
“Have you audiphoned to the palace for such soldiers as are there?”
inquired His Majesty.
“It would be absolutely useless to do so, Sire,” replied Captain
Bingham. “There is but a comparatively small force there, and should
they attempt to come to our relief they would be exterminated to a man
before they reached us. Nearly half of my command was either killed or
wounded in traversing the short distance from the roadway to the house.
What would it be with any force from the palace attempting to approach
over several miles of ground?”
“True,” said the King. “Where can assistance, then, be obtained?”
“The nearest point from which effective aid can be sent,” replied
Captain Bingham, “is from the city, and I have already audiphoned to
the army headquarters there. I have explained the attack, and stated
that we are besieged and have requested the immediate dispatch of a
large force, which has been promised me. I did this, as it seemed to me
to be the only thing to do, although I frankly confess that I do not
see how even a large force can prevail against an enemy they cannot
reach. Possibly, however, they may be able to beat off the air-ships
with heavy guns, though I am not sanguine of success.”
“But,” said the King, “it will be some time before assistance can reach
us from the city.”
“Allowing for everything,” replied Captain Bingham, “about three hours.
I have furthermore counseled, as a measure of precaution, that no
attempt be made to approach here until after nightfall. With the aid of
darkness and a large force, we might at least hope to get you, Sire,
and your suite safely away.”
“What is it they desire--what is it they ask?” questioned the King.
“I know no more, Sire, than I have already reported to you.”
The King reflected a moment.
“Send out to them and inquire,” he commanded.
Lieutenant Dobson was sent forth once more, accompanied by a private
bearing a flag of truce. He returned in even less time than before. The
answer he bore was that no further information would be furnished; no
further delay granted. Unless the King and everyone within the mansion
made unconditional surrender within three minutes after the return of
the flag of truce, an attack would be begun forthwith.
Captain Bingham reported at once to His Majesty.
“Ah, they appear, then, to know positively that We are here!” said the
King.
“Evidently, Sire,” replied Captain Bingham.
“What remains, then to be done?”
“Nothing, Sire,” answered Captain Bingham, with grim determination,
“except for the Guards to defend this house and those within it while
one stone stands upon another and while there is one man left upon his
feet!”
As he spoke there was a sound of rending, of tearing and of disrupted
masonry on the eastern side of the mansion.
“The attack has begun, Sire!” said Captain Bingham. “I would ask
your permission to return to my men.” And with a bow as courtly and
as deferential as if he were standing in the great ball-room of the
palace, Captain Richard Bingham backed from the royal presence and
returned to his men.
As soon as he reached his post at the head of the main stairway,
Captain Bingham quickly perceived that the attack had been renewed by
the air-ships and that it was directed by hurling explosives against
the eastern wall of the building. So powerful were these explosives
that a great gaping aperture soon appeared, stretching from window to
window, wide and deep enough to have admitted a motor of the largest
type. The attack was then shifted to the front of the house and the
front wall blown open in a similar manner. Then, with a crash, the
whole of the great front door was blown in.
The soldiers on the ground floor and upon the main stairway were
now exposed to a raking fire from two sides and the air-ships were
not slow to follow up their advantage. They hurled their explosive
missiles into the men massed upon the stairway and with rifle fire
picked off individual soldiers at windows and upon the lower floor. The
soldiers returned the fire with spirit, sending volley after volley
at the air-ships as they appeared through the great, yawning gaps in
the walls. This fire seemed, however, utterly ineffectual against the
strong sides of the air-ships and the protecting shields thrown up
around them. Comrades were falling fast on every side; the air was
filled with the groans and the cries of the wounded and the dying; the
men were growing disheartened. Then the voice of Captain Bingham rang
out above the tumult:
“Guards, stand fast and die like men!”
A hoarse cheer, despairing yet valiant--the final testimony to the
native valor of the American soldier--came from the men in response to
their leader’s words. Yes, they would die like men! And carbines were
replenished with fresh determination, and fresh volleys were poured in
upon the enemy.
But it was all of no avail. Their efforts, directed against an enemy
they could not reach, were futile. Down went Lieutenant Dobson, the
last of the sub-alterns yet unscathed, and still the missiles continued
to rain upon the devoted and rapidly diminishing band.
The terrible devastation going on was not unknown to those gathered in
the shelter of the drawing-rooms, and the same servant who had come to
him before, now crept forth to Captain Bingham’s side. In his hand he
carried a large pocket-handkerchief of white silk, attached to the end
of a stick. This he extended to Captain Bingham.
“His Majesty directs you to surrender,” he stammered, his teeth
chattering with the horror of the sights about him.
Captain Bingham turned upon him with the blazing eyes of a madman. “You
lie, you scoundrel!” he shouted. “You have misunderstood His Majesty’s
orders!” And with the flat of his sword he struck the emblem of
surrender from the man’s hand, and with the point of his sword at the
man’s throat he drove him back to the shelter of the drawing-rooms.
And now the stairway, broken and demolished in many places, was
slippery with blood and choked with the bodies of the fallen. The rain
of missiles had ceased and had been succeeded by a sharp rifle fire
which rapidly picked off the few remaining survivors. Down went the
color sergeant at Captain Bingham’s side. The Captain stood at the head
of the stairway, still guarding the approach to the drawing-rooms. He
had been struck on the left side of the head by a flying fragment of
some kind, and from the wound the blood trickled down his pale face and
over his uniform. He was the last man left.
The rifle fire from the air-ships closed entirely, and through the
demolished front there surged a mass of men--men from the mobiles. They
were armed with rifles and upon their left shoulders they bore a white
star. A golden star of peculiar formation glittered upon the shoulder
of their leader, and he carried a sword.
“Surrender!” shouted this leader, advancing up the stairway, sword in
hand, followed by his men.
Captain Bingham, standing grim and bloody at the head of the stairs,
made no reply.
“Surrender!” repeated the leader. “Do you not see that your men are all
dead and that you are ours?”
“Curse you,” came the reply from the guardsman, “as they went, so will
I go. You shall never pass while I live.” And with upraised sword he
stood blocking the way to the drawing-rooms.
The leader now crossed swords with Captain Bingham, while two of his
men sought to creep by to right and left and either attack, or capture,
the Captain from the side. But the officers of the guards were all
brilliant swordsmen, and Captain Bingham in that last desperate stand
fully vindicated the honor and the reputation of the famous Guards’
corps. Besides, being at the extreme top of the stairway, he held an
advantage which served to offset the odds against him. First he wounded
the man to the right and an instant later cut down the man on the left.
Then, with a quick half-arm cut which laid his opponent’s face open
from forehead to chin, he sent the leader reeling backward down the
stairs.
When his men saw their leader fall, a howl of dismay and rage went up.
There was a quick flash of leveled rifles and a volley. Captain Bingham
rose to his full height and for one brief instant his form stood erect
and rigid. He raised his sword high aloft and his voice broke into a
great hoarse cry--the last salute of the last of the Guards to the
cause he served:
“Long live the King!”
Then his sword-arm dropped, the weapon fell clattering from his hand
and, with a headlong plunge, he crashed down the stairs over the dead
bodies of his men.
CHAPTER X
THE NEW ERA
“The King! The Guards! They have been attacked!” cried Kearns as,
breathless and panting, he ran into the Chancellerie.
“Attacked!” repeated Mortimer, standing sword in hand, stern-faced and
bleeding from a wound in the arm. “Attacked by whom?”
“The air-ships--the air-ships!” gasped Kearns. “But,” he exclaimed,
pointing to the form upon the ground; “what--what is this?”
“One who has met a rightful doom!” answered Mortimer. “But the
attack--tell me of the attack.”
“I was on my way to the King,” said Kearns, in rapid tones, “and was
approaching Fairoaks when I perceived the air-ships and ordered the
phaeromobile halted. I watched and saw it all.”
“Saw all what?”
“They had driven the King--the guests--the Guards--all of them into the
mansion,” continued Kearns, with the same rapid enunciation, “and the
air-ships attacked them there. My God! they blew great holes into the
side and front of the house, and through these holes they made attack
upon the Guards. Then I saw the men in the motors come up and charge
into the mansion and I knew that all was over. Then, back I came here
to you at full speed, but as I reached the palace I looked behind and
saw that I was being pursued both on land and from above. I tell you
they are hot upon us--in a few minutes they will be here!”
The portieres parted as he spoke and Beatrice ran, eager and excited,
into the room.
“We are attacked! A swarm of men are pouring into the palace and the
grounds. Where is Dorothy? Oh!--oh!--what is this!” and she ran to the
figure lying upon the divan.
“I must go to my post,” cried Mortimer, casting a desperate glance
toward the divan. “I must rally the men to the defense of the palace!”
“Too late!” exclaimed Kearns, turning sharply.
As he spoke, there were sounds without and through the portieres and
the main door of the Chancellerie a number of armed men, with stars at
their shoulders, swarmed in, an officer at their head.
“Surrender!” cried the officer, as his eyes fell upon Mortimer’s
uniform.
“Surrender!” repeated Mortimer, with rage. “How dare you utter that
word in the King’s palace to an officer of the King’s Guard? Back, you
horde of rebels, I say, or I will cut a path through you!”
From behind him there came an exclamation of fear, a plaintive appeal
to him to stop, but he heard it not and, with upraised sword, he
advanced upon the men barring his passage. The officer raised his sword
in an attitude of defense and a dozen rifles instantly flashed into
position.
“Halt! Do not fire!” came suddenly the sharp command from the rear
and a tall and commanding figure forced its way through the ranks. An
instant later, Mortimer found himself confronted by General Mainwarren.
“Do not fire!” repeated General Mainwarren to his men. “I place this
officer and all these here under my special protection.”
“But I cannot--I will not--avail myself of your protection!” cried
Mortimer, still standing with upraised sword. “I will force my way
through to my men, or fall in the attempt!”
“There will be no necessity for that,” said General Mainwarren, gently.
“Your passage shall not be barred and you shall be free to go where
you will. But,” he added, calmly, “it will be useless to seek your
soldiers, for they are all dead.”
“Dead!” repeated Mortimer aghast.
From the grounds without came a great cry:
“Long live the New Republic!”
Before General Mainwarren could make answer to Mortimer’s exclamation,
a file of men, with an officer in command, invaded the room.
“A wounded guardsman, sir, and his companion,” reported the officer,
saluting General Mainwarren. “What shall be done with them?” and he
brought forward Captain Swords and Professor Dean.
“Oh, cousin, cousin!” cried Beatrice, running up to General Mainwarren,
all excitement, “I demand protection--special protection for him!” and
she pointed to Captain Swords.
“It is granted!” said General Mainwarren, with a smile. “His companion,
likewise, shall be protected. We all of us owe something,” he added,
turning to his men, “to Professor Dean and to Captain Mortimer.”
“Long live the New Republic!” again came the cry from the grounds.
“How so? What do you owe us?” exclaimed Mortimer in astonishment.
“To Professor Dean,” said General Mainwarren, gravely, “we owe the
primary invention of the air-ship from which we derive our strength;
and to Captain Mortimer, because to his unexpected escape from us, the
New Republic owes its birth three days earlier than was anticipated.
Yes, Captain Mortimer, your escape precipitated our attack just three
days.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Mortimer, blankly.
“I think you are needed over there,” said Beatrice, touching him
lightly upon the arm, and turning her eyes toward the divan. “As for
me, I must give my attention to the wounded. How sweet and cute he
looks with the bandage tilted down toward his left eye!” And she walked
to where stood Captain Swords and rested both hands upon his arm.
Mortimer crossed to the divan where Dorothy lay. He bent over her
until their lips nearly met and whispered so low that none other
heard--something which brought the color in a warm tide to her pale
face.
“Yes,” continued General Mainwarren, with fervor, “we owe, as I have
said, something to both of these men. To-day the New Republic has
birth--a New Republic which shall give men that equality which can
never be found under a monarchy and which shall be untainted, please
God, from the hideous evils which fastened themselves upon the Old
Republic of our forefathers--a New Republic which shall free its
citizens from the bondage of industrial slavery and shall set to the
world at large an example of higher economic conditions and a higher
standard of human happiness. Let us joyously greet, then, this glorious
event!”
“Three cheers for the New Republic!” rang forth from the men gathered
about their General.
From the grounds without came the answering cry:
“Long live the New Republic! Long live the New Republic!”
THE END
TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:
Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_.
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized.
Archaic or variant spelling has been retained.
The Table of Contents for this eBook was created by the transcriber
for the reader's convenience and is granted to the public domain.