TWO KINGS OF BRENTFORD.
The message which Philippa brought from Cyril served in some degree
to allay her mother’s anxiety, and the continued absence of the
O’Malachy tended to the same result. He had said that he was going to
lunch with a friend or two at the Kursaal, and that he would return
afterwards and take Nadia and the children to meet Caerleon at the
station; but, innocent as this programme sounded, his daughter derived
no comfort from it. She felt that she had blundered into the midst of
a web of conspiracy, of whose extent and object alike she was
ignorant, and she was equally afraid of remaining inactive, and of
taking any step that might increase the difficulties which surrounded
her. What her father’s plans might be she could not divine; but that
they were of a perilous nature, and boded evil to Caerleon and the
children, she was convinced, while the keenest sting of her position
lay in the fact that she was helpless to find a way out of the trap
into which her own credulity had led her, and was now leading her
husband. Therefore she was devoutly thankful when there was no sign of
the O’Malachy’s return, even though she attributed his delay, quite
unjustly on this occasion, to his having imbibed at lunch, somewhat
freely, liquors more potent than the Tatarjé waters.
It was past three o’clock, and Usk and Philippa, after a little lively
squabbling, had settled themselves in the two front windows of the
hotel sitting-room “to watch for father,” while their mother flitted
about uneasily, now glancing out of one window or the other, and then
trying to occupy herself with a book. The children were just engaged
in an argument dealing with the respective probabilities of the
clock’s being fast and the train’s being late, when their attention
was suddenly distracted by the sounds of an altercation on the landing
outside the room.
“You ’old your jaw,” they heard Wright’s voice say, as the door was
violently opened and then unceremoniously shut, “and don’t come ’ere
frightenin’ ’er ladyship with your tales.”
“I must tell ’er ladyship,” was the reply, in a choked voice, which
suggested that Wright had the speaker by the collar, and the door
opened again, this time admitting Wright and Robert, the young
Llandiarmid footman, both in a somewhat ruffled condition.
“What is the meaning of this?” inquired Lady Caerleon in astonishment.
“Robert! how did you come here?”
“Please, my lady, ’is lordship brought me with ’im from ’ome, because
Mr Franks were ill and not allowed to travel.”
“What! is the Marquis here? What do you mean by forcing your way into
the room before your master, Robert?”
“Please, my lady, ’is lordship ain’t ’ere. ’E’ve been arrested.”
“Arrested!” Nadia dropped into a chair, and pressed her hand to her
side. “What do you mean? Tell me.”
“We got along all right, my lady, me and ’is lordship, until something
over ’arf a hour ago, when we come to Velisi, which is the station
next before this one, as your ladyship knows. Then ’is lordship got
out to look what they ’ad on the bookstall, seein’ as the two last
’adn’t no English books at all, and ’e didn’t come back. I was keepin’
’is place for ’im, and the train was just movin’ on, when I see ’is
lordship bein’ took away by four of them pleece they ’as ’ere, with
their big ’ats and their queer swords. I tried to jump out after ’im,
but the people in the carriage ’eld me back; and I made up my mind to
come on ’ere and tell your ladyship.”
“You were quite right,” said Nadia mechanically; but Philippa broke
in--
“But, Robert, you saw the policemen take father prisoner? Really
policemen? You’re sure it was father?”
“Certain sure, my lady. I’d give all I ’ave so I could say different,
but I can’t,” and Robert gulped down a sob.
Philippa’s valiant heart failed her. She had all a well-brought up
British child’s veneration for the law, which she looked upon as a
species of ogre, given to pouncing, by means of its instruments the
police, upon unfortunate individuals who had in some way become
obnoxious to it, quite irrespective of their guilt or innocence, and
locking them up. It never occurred to her to object that her father
had committed no crime, but she brought forward the only consolation
she could suggest.
“Don’t look like that, mother,” she urged, with broken voice. “It must
be a mistake. They couldn’t take father prisoner if they knew who he
was. They wouldn’t dare to do it. They must have thought it was some
one else. Oh, mother, they can’t put _father_ in prison?” she ended,
sobbing wildly as she caught her mother’s hand.
“Hush, Phil, my poor Phil,” said Nadia quietly, soothing the excited
child, and holding out a hand to Usk, down whose face the tears were
rolling slowly. “I want you both to be very quiet and good, while I
think what we can do for poor father. Of course it is a mistake; but
we must be very careful not to make it worse by anything we do or say.
Wright, please order a carriage at once, and tell nurse I want to
speak to her as you pass.”
Wright returned from his errand almost as soon as nurse entered the
room, and Nadia signed to him to shut the door. Philippa, exhausted by
the violence of her grief, was crying quietly in her mother’s arms,
and Usk was sobbing on the floor beside her, with his face buried in
her dress; but her own eyes were tearless, and her voice quite calm.
“I want to speak to you all before the carriage comes, so that you may
know what to do. I am afraid that the Government here, finding that
Lord Caerleon was coming to Thracia, must have jumped to the
conclusion that he was plotting to place himself on the throne again,
and thought they would make things safe by arresting him.”
“I’m afraid that’s about it, your ladyship,” said Wright hoarsely,
when she paused and looked at him. “Of course there’s Lord Cyril----”
“I fear that Lord Cyril must have been arrested as well, for he has
not come here as he said he would. Well, there is no need to be
frightened. They can’t possibly do the Marquis any harm. I am going
now to the Queen-Regent. If any one can help us she can; and I hope
that when I have explained the circumstances she will give me an order
for Lord Caerleon’s release, and let us leave for England at once.
But, of course, it is possible that she has no power without
consulting M. Drakovics, and it may even be necessary to apply to the
British Minister to bring pressure to bear, which might mean some
delay. Nurse, I want you to begin to pack everything at once. If Lord
Caerleon is sent to prison, of course I shall go with him----”
“Oh, my lady! to prison!” cried nurse tearfully.
“And then you and Robert must take the children back to England,
starting to-night. They must be kept out of danger. Wright, I must
have you here, for you know the country----”
“My lady, I wouldn’t go back now, not if you was to send me!” said
Wright, with ferocious resolution. Nadia inclined her head.
“I knew you would feel that, Wright. Now, nurse, please dress the
children to come to the Palace with me. Phil, be brave; we are going
to see what we can do to help father. Let nurse wash your face and put
on your best hat.”
With a last choking sob Philippa obeyed, calling up memories of Lady
Nithsdale, Jeanie Deans, and other heroines who had pleaded for the
lives of imprisoned relatives. Their examples so fortified her that
she was even able to rebuke Usk for asking in a doleful whisper
whether they cut people’s heads off the very moment they were taken
prisoner, and to inform him that if he frightened mother and made her
cry, it would be his fault if--if anything dreadful happened; but here
the reprover belied her own admonitions by winking away a few tears
very hastily.
A few minutes later M. Stefanovics, who was waiting in the hall of the
Villa to receive a visitor whom the Queen was expecting, hurried to
the door on hearing a carriage drive up, only to find that the lady
who mounted the steps with her children was quite a stranger to him.
One of the footmen stopped her before she reached the threshold,
saying that visitors were not at present admitted to view the Villa,
as the Queen was residing there; but she astonished him by saying that
her business was with the Queen, and passed on. The rest of the
servants were too much impressed by her manner to bar her way; but at
the door she was met by M. Stefanovics himself.
“I wish to see the Queen,” she said, barely noticing him.
“Pardon me; but has madame received her Majesty’s commands to present
herself at this hour? No?” as she shook her head; “then perhaps she is
an early friend of the Queen? In that case----”
“No; her Majesty would not know me, but I am sure she will see me if
you tell her my reason for coming. My name is----”
“Pardon me,” said M. Stefanovics again, waving away politely the card
which Nadia held out to him; “but I should be deceiving madame with
false hopes if I encouraged her to remain. Her Majesty does not
receive this afternoon.”
“Still I must ask you to be so kind as to entreat her to grant me a
short interview. My husband has been arrested under a misapprehension,
and I am relying upon the Queen for his release.”
“But it is impossible, madame! Such matters are the concern of the
Minister of the Interior or of the Premier, not of her Majesty. Let me
entreat madame to retire, and forward her request to the proper
quarter, or at least to turn into my office here, and draw up her
petition in writing for presentation to the Queen. Her Majesty is at
this moment expecting the arrival of her cousin, the Princess of----
But here is the Princess arriving!”
And the harassed chamberlain hurried out on the steps once more,
wondering what he was to do with this sad-eyed woman who could not be
brought to take No for an answer. Only an hour ago Cyril had given him
strict injunctions not to admit any strangers to the Villa that
afternoon upon any pretext, and he was torn between natural kindness
of heart and a determination to obey his orders. The children watched
him with wide-eyed awe as he escorted into the hall a dark-haired lady
magnificently dressed, leading a little girl of two or three years old
by the hand; but Nadia uttered a despairing moan as she stood aside
among the pillars of the vestibule. The sound roused Philippa to
instant action.
“Mother, _don’t_!” she cried, and running out into the hall faced the
strange lady boldly. “Oh, please, are you in a dreadful hurry to see
the Queen?” she asked. “Because, if not, would you mind letting mother
see her first, just for a minute? It is so fearfully important.”
“Who are you, little one?” asked the Princess kindly. “I have seen you
before, have I not?”
“I don’t think so,” faltered Philippa, overwhelmed with sudden
shyness, but M. Stefanovics interrupted her. “It is a lady who says
that her husband has been arrested by mistake, madame, and she is
anxious to entreat her Majesty to obtain his release. I have assured
her that it is the business of the Minister of the Interior, but I
cannot induce her to go away. I think she must be English.”
“English!” cried the Princess, as though a light had flashed upon her.
“Now I know you, my child. You are Carlino’s little daughter.”
“Carlino is what mother calls father,” said Philippa timidly, but the
Princess was already crossing the hall to her mother.
“And you are Nadia!” she said, taking her hand in both hers. “Pardon
me, dear madame, but I knew your husband long ago, and I have heard
him speak of you. The tone of his voice as he mentioned your name so
impressed itself upon my mind that I have thought of you as Nadia ever
since.”
“And you are the Princess Ottilie,” said Nadia slowly, looking into
the dark eyes which met hers with a friendly light in them. “Forgive
me, I should say the Princess of Dardania.”
“Thanks to Lord Caerleon,” was the instant answer. “Ah, madame, you
know the story--how your husband sacrificed his own feelings that he
might assist a helpless girl, driven almost desperate by the cruelty
of her circumstances. That girl stands before you now. Will you not
allow one who owes her happy married life to the magnanimity of Lord
Caerleon to help you in your trouble? Even the mouse helped the lion,
you know.”
“Madame, you are too good,” stammered Nadia.
“Good? No, I am not that, madame, but I hope I am not ungrateful. ‘Our
Princess never forgets a friend, or forgives a foe’--that is what they
say of me in Dardania, and they say it also in certain of the
chancelleries of Europe,” she laughed maliciously. “Tell me now what
it is that is troubling you? Your husband has been arrested through
some stupid mistake of the police?”
“I do not know, madame. He was to join me this afternoon; but his
servant arrived without him, bringing word that his master had been
arrested suddenly at Velisi. There was no dispute with the police, so
far as I know.”
“At Velisi?” The Princess looked thoughtful. “Lord Caerleon had not
been warned not to enter the country, or in any other way made himself
obnoxious to the Government, had he?”
“Oh no. He could not have crossed the frontier more than an hour.”
“And that would barely have allowed time for a message to be sent to
Bellaviste and answered. No; the order for the arrest must have come
from here. And the only person with authority sufficient to venture on
such a step is your husband’s brother, Count Mortimer.”
“Impossible, madame! My husband and his brother are on the best of
terms.”
“Unfortunately, madame, you must know, as I do, that no considerations
of friendship or affection would be allowed to stand in the way of
Count Mortimer’s plans. It is possible that he fears your husband’s
return to Thracia may undermine his own influence here, and that would
be quite sufficient to cause him to arrest him.”
“I can’t believe it,” Nadia repeated helplessly; but unfortunately her
memory tallied only too well with that of the Princess. If Cyril had
any scheme in view, it was not likely that he would allow Caerleon to
interfere with its success.
“In any case,” went on the Princess, “you were taking the right course
when you came to the Queen. She is the only person who would have both
the authority and the courage to demand an explanation from Count
Mortimer--with the exception of Drakovics, of course. We will go
up-stairs and see her now. Come, my Lida,” and she held out her hand
to her little girl, who had been clinging to her dress.
“Oh, mayn’t I take her?” entreated Philippa. “Usk and I will hold her
hands all the way up-stairs, and we will be so careful. She shan’t
fall, really and truly. Come, baby darling.”
“Her name is Ludmilla,” said the Princess, laughing; “Lida is her pet
name.”
“I know; just as I’m called Phil,” assented Philippa, with a beaming
smile, as she and Usk, with little Princess Ludmilla between them,
began to mount the stairs after their mother and the Princess. Just as
they reached the top, Nadia paused suddenly.
“Madame,” she said, “I cannot believe that Count Mortimer is
responsible for his brother’s arrest. I entreat your Royal Highness
not to prejudice his position with her Majesty by suggesting it.”
“If the Queen did not order the arrest, Count Mortimer must have done
so,” returned the Princess inexorably. “We shall see.”
Absurd though the idea appeared to Nadia, it was nevertheless the case
that the Princess was much nearer the truth in accusing Cyril than his
sister-in-law in defending him, and no one would have acknowledged the
acuteness of his fair opponent more readily than Cyril himself. At the
moment that the conversation was taking place in the hall of the
Villa, he was crossing the railway platform at Velisi, on his way to
the police-station, to which Caerleon had been hurried. He found the
occupants a good deal disturbed in their minds, and it needed all his
commendations for their prompt obedience to his orders to reassure
them. Oh yes, the English traveller had been arrested, and was now
detained in the parlour of the superintendent’s house, which they had
thought it advisable to place at his disposal, since it was evident he
must be a great man in his own country. He had been angry, very angry,
at his arrest, and had threatened his assailants with unheard-of
penalties--the nature of which they understood only very imperfectly,
however, since Caerleon had almost lost the small knowledge of
Thracian of which he had once been possessed. Did his Excellency
really intend to grant this very violent person an interview? Surely
he would at least allow two of the police to be present, with drawn
swords, so as to be able to repel any attempt at attack? But Cyril
refused the offered protection, and entered the parlour boldly. He
found Caerleon pacing up and down, still in his travelling ulster, and
looking absurdly large and substantial for the little room. He turned
when Cyril entered, and faced him in blank astonishment, which changed
quickly to anger as the memory of his wrongs returned upon him.
“Well, Cyril, this is a pretty state of things!” he cried. “May I ask
what it means? I am taken into custody in a public place, and when I
ask why, they tell me it is by your order.”
“I never told them to tell you so, at any rate,” said Cyril. “Now be
reasonable, Caerleon, and don’t shout the house down. I would have
given you a week’s notice if I could; but since I only had ninety
minutes myself in which to save the kingdom, I couldn’t afford to lose
time.”
“If you could make time just now to explain what you mean, you would
place me under a deep obligation to you,” said Caerleon, with bitter
irony.
“That sounds more like business. I am always delighted to explain
things away afterwards, provided I have a free hand at the critical
moment. The fact is, I didn’t want you at Tatarjé, and I don’t now.”
“Don’t you think you are really too flattering?”
“It must sound so, I suppose; and yet it is the sober truth. If this
interrupted journey of yours had turned out as it was intended to do,
my occupation would have been gone, for the simple reason that the
throne of baby Michael would have been gone too.”
“You don’t accuse me of carrying dynamite about with me, I hope?”
“Not at all. You are the dynamite yourself.”
“If these are your explanations, Cyril,” said Caerleon shortly, “all I
can say is that they are a good deal darker than your proceedings, and
they are dark enough, in all conscience.”
“Now don’t get waxy, old man. I’m afraid the lapse of years has
disturbed your faith in me a little, hasn’t it? I assure you honestly
I mean what I say. You have come to the very worst place in Thracia,
at the very worst time, and in the very worst way. Come, you can’t say
that that’s not plain speaking, can you?”
“I can’t see that it throws much light on the subject.”
“Then I must enlighten you. Neither you nor Nadia seems to have
realised that there are still a good many people in Thracia who regard
you as having a considerable right--or even the paramount right--to
the throne; and yet I told you plainly when I was with you that I
hoped you would keep away from this part of the world.”
“But I renounced all my rights of my own free will.”
“Who is to know that it was of your own free will? It might have been
done perforce, or under a misapprehension, or anything. And, in any
case, the renunciation does not ensure your never wishing--or merely
being willing if requested--to resume your rights.”
“Stuff, Cyril! Why should I wish to resume them?”
“Why should any one wish to be a king? I know, of course, that you had
quite enough of it when you were here; but then I was not afraid of
you, but of others who might make a catspaw of you.”
“Many thanks.”
“There you are again! You really should not be so touchy. Can’t you
see that although the people who have a theoretical belief in your
claims might be content to let you go with a few sighs and vain
regrets, there are others who might be glad to exploit their views and
feelings for their own purposes?”
“I don’t see what harm they could do if they were.”
“I do, unfortunately. The head and front of this offending is your
respected father-in-law, our old friend O’Malachy. He knows that you
are not likely to revisit Thracia by your own wish, and therefore he
works upon you through your wife. Guessing that you won’t let her come
alone, he brings her here by a telegram to say that he is dying, and
longs to see her. He gets her and the children into his hands, to use
either as hostages or as puppets, you see, and he is prepared to
proclaim you King as soon as you arrive. The town is notoriously
disloyal, the garrison honeycombed with disaffection, the Bishop, who
is the biggest man in these parts, hates the Queen, and the little
King is in their power. What better starting-place could you desire
for another revolution? Even if you kicked successfully, there is Usk,
whom the Bishop would prefer to you, because he could begin by
converting him to the Orthodox faith.”
“But why in the world should the O’Malachy want to make either poor
little Usk or myself King?”
“He doesn’t; that is merely a means to an end. But he does very much
want to give Scythia a pretext for interfering in our affairs. With
two Kings, and a civil war in active progress, she would be able to
send troops to enforce order, and those troops would leave the country
at the Greek Kalends. Little Michael’s conversion would be insisted
upon as the price of support. Drakovics would go under and so should
I, and the Queen would either be assisted in her duties by Bishop
Philaret and the general of the army of occupation as co-regents, or
provided with a second husband, and thus shunted.”
“But how in the world did you find all this out, and why didn’t you
take precautionary measures before?”
“I had my first inkling of it less than three hours ago, through a few
words which Phil overheard. Of course I knew that the O’Malachy wasn’t
here for any good purpose, but that’s nothing new. Since I left Phil I
have been working up the plot, and taking steps to frustrate it, at
the same time. It was clear that the soldiers and townspeople were to
rise some time to-day, probably on your arrival. It was equally clear
that they could not rise without leaders; and of course I have a list,
through the secret police, of all the suspicious characters that have
been hanging about Tatarjé of late. They are under arrest in their
own abodes at present, and are to be kept under police supervision,
without being allowed to communicate with any one, until you are
safely out of Thracia. When things are clear, they will be released
with an apology.”
“But why not punished or expelled?”
“Ah, that is the difficulty of making use of an amateur spy, and a
child at that. No tribunal would convict on the only evidence I can
produce, although it has been enough to enable me to explode the plot.
But I shall get the Court back to Bellaviste as soon as possible, and
with you and your wife and family safe in England, the plotters can’t
do much.”
“But how did my arrest come into your plans?”
“Very simply. I wanted you not to come on to Tatarjé, but to return
to the frontier, where Nadia and the children could join you. I
started to meet you; but I had run it too close, and I saw you would
have left Velisi long before I got here. I couldn’t be sure that a
telegram would stop you, and therefore I employed physical force.”
“Wasn’t it a slight oversight, if you meant your scheme to be a
secret, that you didn’t have my man arrested too?” asked Caerleon
drily. “As it is, he went on in the train to Tatarjé.”
Cyril jumped out of his chair. “No,” he said, sinking back again,
“don’t be afraid. I am not going to use strong language, but if ever a
man might be excused for doing so----! Didn’t you tell me in your very
last letter that Franks had got potted by some idiotic duffer who was
out shooting with you, and that you were servantless so long as he was
_hors de combat_?”
“What a memory you have for little things! Unfortunately it has played
you false here, though, for I brought Robert with me instead.”
“And I pictured you as rejoicing in your freedom! What possessed you
to bring a raw lad on a journey like this?”
“I had no intention whatever of taking him, so you were right there.
But I telegraphed to him to bring me some things to town, in order to
save time, and he was so broken-hearted when he found that he was not
to go with me, that I let him come.”
“And what do you expect him to do at Tatarjé?”
“Well, I should say that he would go straight to Nadia, and terrify
her out of her wits by telling her that I am gone to prison.”
“Exactly; and Nadia will proceed at once to do something heroic. Will
she come here and insist on sharing your captivity, or will she go to
the Queen and demand your release?--that is the question. There will
be a train in from Tatarjé in a few minutes, so we shall soon see
whether she is coming here.”
But the question was to be answered even before the train came in. A
deprecating knock at the door heralded the police superintendent with
“A telegram for his Excellency the Minister,” and Cyril tore it open.
“Now the fat is in the fire with a vengeance!” he said, when the man
had left the room, keeping his eyes upon Caerleon, as though he feared
an attack from behind. “Evidently Nadia has gone to the Queen.
Stefanovics says, ‘Her Majesty desires your Excellency to present
yourself at the Villa immediately. Pray do not delay.’ That is a
little warning from himself, of course. Well, I suppose we must take
the train back. Oh, you may as well come too. Nadia will suspect me of
having made away with you if I don’t produce you in the flesh, and I
hope I have provided against the rising for which your appearance was
intended to be the signal. At any rate, I have done my part. If the
Queen spoils things, it won’t be the first time, and she will suffer
as much as I shall. Come along.”
“Not until I get hold of a hat and a decent coat. You don’t expect me
to appear in a garb like this?”
“Yes, I do; it’s an excellent disguise. No one in his senses will
suspect you of coming to start a revolution in this get-up. Here, turn
the collar of that ulster up, and pull your cap well down over your
eyes. If I can get you into Tatarjé and out again without being
recognised, I will. I shall have a carriage at the station.”
“I should much prefer not to be recognised,” said Caerleon
uncomfortably, as they left the police-office. Cyril laughed.
“You must see that in a case like this it is my bounden duty to
minimise your personal advantages as far as possible. If you were not
tall and straight and fair-haired, with a beautiful wife and two fine
children, there would be no need to be afraid of you; but as it is,
what chance has a poor, wretched little woman, who has succeeded in
alienating every single person with whom she has anything to do, in
comparison with you and your family? There wouldn’t even be the
excitement of a struggle. The Queen and little Michael would go down
like ninepins. But if I smuggle you through in that venerable ulster
and a cap which may have cost you twopence-halfpenny when it was new
(but I doubt it), your worst enemy couldn’t accuse either of us of
trying to catch the public eye. So come along.”
Ensconced in the corners of a reserved carriage, they made the journey
without discovery, and at Tatarjé Cyril succeeded in transferring his
brother unnoticed to the closed landau which was in waiting. They
drove straight to the Villa, and entered by a side-door, thus gaining
Cyril’s office without meeting any one.
“Stay here till I want you,” commanded Cyril. “There are some cigars
in that drawer; but keep the door shut, for the Queen objects to
smoking, as she does to most things. When I produce you, it will be by
way of a grand _tableau_.”
He hurried up-stairs, and the servant announced him at the door of the
anteroom. The lady sitting there, who happened to be Baroness von
Hilfenstein’s daughter Paula, gave him a look full of interest and
excitement as he passed, and said in a low voice--
“The Princess of Dardania is with her Majesty.”
“This is more thrilling even than I thought,” he murmured back, with
his hand upon the door, and immediately entered, to find Nadia sitting
on the sofa between the Queen and the Princess. Before he could do
more than bow to the royal ladies, Philippa sprang up from the corner
where she had been playing with the other children, and, running to
him, caught his hand.
“Oh, Uncle Cyril, these ladies have been saying such horrid things
about you. I thought that one,” indicating the Princess, “was nice,
but,” in a perfectly audible whisper, “I don’t now. They say that it
was you who had father put in prison!”
“And you are the only one to believe in me?” said Cyril. “Brave little
girl!”
“Oh no, Cyril,” said Nadia eagerly. “It is only that the Queen and the
Princess don’t know you as we do, and so can’t see the absurdity of
the idea. If you would just assure them that you had nothing to do
with Caerleon’s arrest, they must be convinced.”
“I should be delighted to oblige you if it was in my power,” returned
Cyril. “Unfortunately it is not possible, since the arrest was
effected by my order.”
Nadia sank back speechless and horrorstruck, and Queen Ernestine and
the Princess of Dardania exchanged looks of triumph.
“What did I tell you?” asked the Princess.
“Count Mortimer,” said the Queen with energy, holding Nadia’s hand in
hers, and rising in order to give greater effect to her words, “owing
to various unfortunate circumstances, I have feared at times that I
was unable to judge you impartially; but I can say truthfully that I
should never have suspected you of such an action as this. What your
motive can have been I am at a loss to imagine----”
“Surely you need not ask the motive,” interrupted the Princess. “Count
Mortimer feared lest the lustre of his well-earned popularity should
be in the slightest degree dimmed by the appearance of a rival star in
the Thracian sky.”
“I could have hoped,” the Queen went on, “that your motive was a
worthier one than the gratification of such base jealousy; but I
grieve to be obliged to think that this is not the case.”
“No, Ernestine,” said the Princess, “you are doing Count Mortimer an
injustice. I never said that his jealousy was personal in its
character, for it is political. Lord Caerleon, like any one else who
stands in the way of his brother’s schemes, must be crushed.”
“Does that make it any better?” cried the Queen. “It is infamous! That
you should have attempted to carry out such a despicable purpose by
means of the authority with which I was induced at my husband’s dying
entreaty to invest you, is merely an additional crime, Count.”
“Oh, Uncle Cyril,” entreated Philippa, “do say something! I know it
was a mistake, or--or you did it for fun. Please do tell them.”
“You don’t understand, Phil, that when the Queen and the Princess are
pleased to accuse me, it is my duty to listen in silence, and rejoice
to find myself honoured with so much of their attention.”
“If you can possibly suggest the very smallest excuse for your
extraordinary action, Count,” said the Queen, “I beg that you will at
once bring it forward.”
“Madame, if your Majesty considers that I have no excuse, I would not
be so wanting in respect as to offer any.”
“Oh, Cyril,” cried Nadia, “won’t you explain? I know there must be
some good reason for all that has happened, but you are torturing me.”
“At least pity your sister,” said the Queen, more gently; “and offer
any explanation that may seem to you to be adequate.”
“No explanation that I can offer is likely to be satisfactory to your
Majesty,” said Cyril. “You were good enough to observe, madame, that
it was at the late King’s wish that I was intrusted with my present
office. The duties of that office I must continue to strive to fulfil
as long as I hold it. My popularity in the country signifies to me as
little as the favour of your Majesty, which I cannot flatter myself I
have ever had the honour of possessing. It was not in defence of my
own popularity that I had my brother arrested to-day, but in that of
the kingdom of my master, your son.”
“Are you trying to excuse yourself by casting suspicion upon your
brother?” cried the Princess; but Cyril did not flinch.
“Madame,” he went on, still addressing himself to the Queen, “but for
the steps I have found it necessary to take to-day, the King and
yourself would now be prisoners, and my brother proclaimed King of
Thracia once more. Unknown to him, a conspiracy had been formed with
that object in view, and this conspiracy I have foiled by the means
which have had the misfortune to displease you.”
“Oh, Cyril, I can never thank you enough!” cried Nadia. “You have
saved us from utter misery. Carlino will express our gratitude to you
himself, for the idea of reigning here again would horrify him.”
“You have reason to believe in the existence of this conspiracy, then,
madame?” asked the Queen sharply, turning to her.
“Madame, it explains many things that have terrified and perplexed me
since I have been at Tatarjé, and my brother has relieved me from a
horrible anxiety.”
“It is evident that we have misjudged you, Count,” said the Queen,
“although I cannot but say that your methods of working are open to
grave misconstruction. Pray remember that in future I wish to be kept
informed if you find it needful to take any action of the kind.”
“But, Ernestine,” said the Princess, as Cyril bowed, “is poor Lord
Caerleon to be left languishing in a dungeon while you instruct Count
Mortimer in his duties? Should he not be released?”
“If your Majesty will allow me, I will send for my brother,” said
Cyril, and on receiving permission, he left the room.
“Stefanovics,” he said, catching sight of the chamberlain in the hall,
and scenting a joke, “send the man who is in my office there to me,
will you?”
A smothered exclamation of “Your Majesty!” showed him that the
recognition had been complete, and hastily descending the stairs, he
found M. Stefanovics on his knees, kissing Caerleon’s hand, much to
the embarrassment of its owner.
“Come, this won’t do,” said Cyril. “What about your oath to King
Michael, Stefanovics? I’m sure it was a good thing I took all my
precautions, if a stalwart supporter of the reigning dynasty like
yourself can be carried away so completely. Lord Caerleon is a simple
British tourist, do you understand? Come along, Caerleon. By the bye,
could you possibly manufacture any engagement that required you to get
home at once?”
“There’s no need. The County Council meets in three days, and as
chairman----”
“Of course, the very thing--vague and sufficiently high-sounding. Now
prepare for a surprise.”
The surprise Cyril intended was the presence of the Princess of
Dardania; but Nadia met her husband in the doorway, and at first
neither of them found it possible to give a thought to the other
occupants of the room. When Nadia was calm again, Cyril led his
brother in and presented him to the Queen, excusing his very
uncourtierlike appearance by explaining that he had merely come to
Tatarjé to fetch his wife and children, and must leave again for
England that evening. He further defined the County Council as
something between a Provincial Diet and the Imperial Reichstag, for
the Queen’s benefit, and succeeded in impressing her with the idea
that for Caerleon to be late in arriving at his post would be a crime
but little removed from high treason. He had so much to say that it
was not until the visitors were taking their leave of the Queen that
the Princess of Dardania was able to address herself directly to
Caerleon.
“I trust you have not forgotten me, Lord Caerleon?” she said
graciously; “or that most interesting fortnight of your visit to
Schloss Herzensruh?”
“Madame,” responded Caerleon, with perfect truth, “it would be
absolutely impossible for me to forget either the one or the other.”
“You are too flattering,” said the Princess, making him a curtsey, as
she had done once in that far-off time; “but I can interpret your
meaning with the help of your words and actions then. Ah well, Lord
Caerleon, you piqued me not a little in that fortnight, for I could
not make you care for me, in spite of all my efforts; but now that I
have seen your wife, I can understand, and pardon.”