‘I am strongly opposed to all bloodshed, Monsieur V----. I feel sure
there is no reality in the danger you foresee, or I should be as
earnest as yourself in wishing to prevent it.’
‘I can say no more, sir; I am here, as I have said, merely in my
private capacity. Still, I happen to have rendered important
services to some very powerful personages’ (the Prince glanced at the
names I had inscribed on my card), ‘and, without being a blackmailer,
I feel confident that if I appealed to those personages for their
influence on behalf of a righteous and honourable cause, I should not
be refused.’
Prince Peter rose to his feet, and walked twice up and down the room
before replying.
‘It is evident to me,’ he said at length, ‘that you have a strong
personal interest in the new Queen of Servia, and that you are a man
who is to be trusted. That being so, I will explain to you frankly my
position. I have friends in Servia who desire to see the restoration
of my dynasty, and derive much confidence from the misconduct of this
youth in whom the Obrenovitch line terminates.
‘Their reports reach me regularly, and I am therefore able to
anticipate their plans to some extent. But I have resolved that if I
am ever to seat myself on the Servian throne, I must keep my hands
clean. For that reason I have never committed myself by approving any
of the measures contemplated on my behalf.
‘If Masileff really told you he never heard from me, he told you the
actual truth. I have never yet returned any answer to any of the
communications I receive almost weekly from Belgrade. To that rule
I must adhere. All I can promise you is this, that if hereafter I
receive any information which convinces me that the life of the
Countess Draga is in danger, I will at once break silence, and send a
peremptory order to my friends that she is to be allowed to leave the
country in safety.’
I thanked the Servian prince for this pledge, which was all I had any
right to expect. The claimant to a Crown could hardly be asked to
veto all attempts on his behalf on the mere chance that some of them
might endanger the lives of the reigning family.
I returned to Paris, and sought to distract myself in my work from
brooding over the tragedy which seemed to be shaping itself in the
Servian capital.
As we had both foreseen, Queen Draga incurred the obloquy of the
world by marrying Alexander. Her reputation was sacrificed to his,
and I believe that she deliberately posed as the instigator of all
his violent and injudicious measures, in the hope of acting, so to
speak, as a conductor of the popular wrath, and thereby saving her
husband.
Had she been able at the same time to wean Alexander from his wild
passion for herself, he and his dynasty might have been preserved.
It is the charitable view to take that the young King was not fully
responsible for his acts at this time. The distressing circumstances
of his bringing-up, the fatal inheritance of his father’s example
and influence, render it impossible to regard Alexander Obrenovitch
as a normal young man.
The long period of suspense which I passed through, while watching
from Paris over the safety of the Queen of Servia, was at last put an
end to by a cypher telegram from the agent whom I had stationed in
Belgrade unknown even to Draga herself.
‘_Death of King fixed for next week. Queen must be persuaded to fly
at once._’
The despatch reached me just half an hour before the departure of the
Oriental express, into which I flung myself panting as it began to
glide out of the station.
My agent, warned from Vienna, met me as I alighted in Belgrade.
The pallor of his countenance told me that he had bad news to
communicate.
‘The worst--instantly!’ I exclaimed, in Polish, a language I have
taught to all the most trusted members of my staff.
‘Nothing has happened,’ he stammered out. ‘But I tried to give a hint
to the Queen; she has passed it on to her husband. The conspirators
have learned that suspicion has been aroused in the Palace; and----’
‘And what?’ I seized him by the wrist.
‘The assassination is to be carried out to-night, instead of next
week.’
‘To-night!’
Exhausted as I was by the long journey, this news almost broke me
down. I had to lean against my agent for support.
The poor wretch, conscious that he had blundered disastrously, dared
not meet my eye, and I felt him trembling.
It is my maxim never to be angry with an employee except for bad
faith. If an agent of mine blunders or breaks down I consider the
fault is mine for having intrusted him with a task beyond his powers.
Besides, there are no perfect instruments. In my own career I have
made two mistakes.
Therefore I assured the unfortunate man that all was well, since
Queen Draga was yet alive. We went together to the house in which
my agent had been residing for some time in the character of
correspondent of the Havas Agency. There I assumed the Servian dress
which he had had the forethought to prepare for me, and, disguised as
a _sous-officier_, I set off for the Palace.
My military uniform naturally inspired confidence in the sentries,
those in the plot no doubt supposing that I was so, also.
I made my way round to a side entrance, suitable to my apparent
station, and there, by my agent’s advice, asked to see Anna
Petrovitch, the waiting-maid who had shared the Queen’s fortunes for
many years.
I was admitted without any demur, and presently Anna herself
appeared. She took me apart into a small chamber apparently used by
the upper servants of the Palace, and asked me what I wanted.
‘I must see the Queen immediately, in private,’ I answered.
‘You cannot do that. Her Majesty is just sitting down to dinner. What
is your name; and what do you want to see her about?’
‘My name does not matter. I come as a friend, and I bring her Majesty
a message from one who wishes her well.’
I knew that if this woman were really in Draga’s confidence these
words would not fall unheeded.
‘Cannot you tell me something more? I will try to get you an audience
as soon as dinner is over, provided I am sure that you are a friend.’
‘Listen!’ I bent forward and whispered in her ear. ‘Have you ever
heard the Queen mention a certain Monsieur V----?’
The woman gave a start of joy, impossible to be feigned.
‘You come from him?’