THE POWER OF THE PRESS
The editorial staff of the _Mercury_ had certainly done their work very
well. No detail had been spared to make the report absolutely complete.
Everybody was reminded that recently there had been a great deal of
friction in that corner of the Balkans known as Asturia. It was well
known that for many years Russia had coveted that fair province. Up to
now the crown of the King of Asturia had been quite safe. But with the
advent of the present monarch things were entirely different. King Erno
had very early in his career given evidence that he did not appreciate
the full measure of responsibility. He was too fond of gaiety and
pleasure; he had no patriotism. His people were a stern, hard-living
race, and they did not tolerate the gaiety of the new court.
The queen was all very well, but she was only the consort, after all. It
was useless for her to be ever on the spot whilst the king was
dissipating his fortune and spending the money ground from his people by
extra taxation in London and Paris. And latterly eyes had been turned to
Vienna, where dwelt Prince Alix, who was known to covet the throne. At
any moment there might be a glaring tragedy, and Prince Alix might find
himself with the crown. That Prince Alix was notoriously a friend of
Russia mattered little at the present juncture.
Lechmere read all this as he hurried along Fleet Street. He also read a
lot of information that was true, and more that was false. Evidently the
_Mercury_ people cared for nothing beyond the sensation of the hour. But
after all this came the sting of the thing. The King of Asturia had that
night gone down to the _Mercury_ office and demanded audience of the
editor. He had been very wild and violent, and the intimation that he
was hopelessly intoxicated was not very carefully concealed. The king
wished it to be understood that he had done with Asturia. He had not the
slightest intention of going back to his capital any more. His
abdication was signed, and doubtless by that time a deputation was on
its way to Vienna to offer the throne to Prince Alix. Altogether, it was
perhaps the most sensational report that ever appeared even in an
American paper. It was certain to create a great commotion, and set all
the courts of Europe by the ears.
"Well, of all the amazing audacity!" Lechmere muttered as he raced
along. "Nothing more daring had ever been done in the history of
political intrigue. I wonder if Hunt suspects the truth. Not that it
would make any difference to him so long as he could shift the
responsibility afterwards, as I daresay he will be prepared with proofs
that he was justified in what he did. There is only one way to get even
with this thing."
Lechmere arrived at length at the office of the _Daily Herald_. The
paper in question had very little taint of the modern spirit about it.
There was no chance, for instance, that it would ever be published for
less than a penny. The _Herald_ had no very great reputation for
enterprise, but it was sound and safe, and everything therein would be
accepted as true. No newspaper in the kingdom carried more weight, no
journal had a greater reputation for veracity.
The _Herald_ had not gone to press yet. There was no great hurry, seeing
that the feverish rush to capture circulation had never commended itself
to the paper's proprietors. There was a sense of decorum about the
office that had been lacking in the _entourage_ of the _Mercury_. The
place seemed more dignified; there was no noise; all the corridors had
felted floors. Even down in the manager's office the same decorum
prevailed.
Lechmere knew that he would have no difficulty in seeing the editor of
the _Herald_. In the first place, that gentleman was an old friend of
his; indeed, Lechmere had contributed from time to time many articles on
foreign politics. Mr. Eveleigh was at liberty, and would see Mr.
Lechmere at once. The editor was lying back in an armchair smoking a
cigar.
"I have just finished, my dear fellow," he said. "I hope you have
something good for me? Nothing wrong? You look actually excited, a most
unusual thing for you."
"I certainly have come along at a pretty good pace," Lechmere admitted.
"A most extraordinary thing has happened. If this matter is allowed to
pass there is no limit to the damage that it may do. Will you be so good
as to cast your eye on that, Eveleigh?"
The editor of the _Herald_ took the _Mercury_ in his hand as if he had
been contaminated. There was a smile of contempt on his fine face. But
the smile faded away, and an interested gleam came into his eyes as he
read. He tossed the paper aside at length.
"Nothing very wonderful," he said. "That is precisely how I should have
expected the present ruler of Asturia to behave. It's a fine scoop for
Hunt, and one after his own heart. He would set the whole of Europe in a
blaze to sell an extra fifty thousand papers."
"Why not? He is an American, and his aim is to make money. He has the
excuse that he is not bound by any patriotic scruples. Do you believe
that story?"
"It certainly has the impress of truth," Eveleigh said thoughtfully.
"Hunt dare not hoax his public. The average Briton would never stand it.
Besides, that's Hunt's own writing. He is perfectly certain to have
taken the statement down from the royal lips."
"No doubt. Probably with the aid of a stenographer. There are no flies
on Hunt, to use a pet expression of his own. Let us assume for the sake
of argument that Hunt fully believes that he has had the thing from the
principal actor in the drama. But all the same, he didn't. The man who
dictated that statement was no more King of Asturia than I am."
Eveleigh looked up brightly. Lechmere was not in the habit of making
statements that he couldn't prove.
"As a matter of fact, the king has been at Lord Merehaven's all the
evening," he went on. "I left him there a little while ago. This thing
has been deliberately got up by the gang of conspirators who are working
here in the interests of Russia and incidentally for their own pockets.
When the proper time comes I will name all these conspirators to you. I
can even give you the name of the man who played the part for Hunt's
benefit. They chose their people carefully, knowing that only the
_Mercury_ out of all the London journals would publish that without
first consulting the Foreign Secretary. Don't you see the game? Every
paper in Paris and Vienna and St. Petersburg will get a copy of that
interview _in extenso_. It will create a perfect furore in Asturia if
the lie is not most promptly contradicted. You see what I mean?"
"In the first place, that some clever actor has been playing the king?"
Eveleigh asked.
"Yes. It was Countess Saens's idea in the first place. I am afraid that
some of our people inspired her with the suggestion. But that is neither
here nor there. That lie has to be scotched, and you are the man to do
it. After all said and done, _the_ journalistic English authority abroad
is the _Herald_. Therefore the _Herald_ is going to print that wild
story of Hunt's to-night and comment upon the audacity of the scheme.
Also, you are going to proclaim the fact that the real King of Asturia
was known to be at the residence of the Foreign Secretary, Lord
Merehaven, at the time when he was supposed to be betraying his private
affairs to the editor of the _Mercury_. If I were not absolutely certain
of my facts I would not ask you to do this, Eveleigh. I want you to make
a big thing of this. I want you to assume that Hunt has been hoaxed, and
call for the prompt punishment of the criminals. Is there time?"
"Oh, there is plenty of time," Eveleigh said thoughtfully. "No trouble
on that score. And I think I can manage it. Sit down for a minute or two
while I go and see my chief of staff."
Lechmere sat down fluttering over the pages of the _Mercury_. His
restless eye wandered near the column and along the crowded
advertisements. Finally his gaze stopped at the agony column. One line
there arrested his attention. It was a jumbled cypher, but the training
that Lechmere had had in that kind of thing enabled him to read it
almost at a glance.
"I thought so," he said. "I felt absolutely certain of my man. So
Peretori is in London! I might have guessed that from the first. Well,
it seems to me that I am in a position to hoist these people with their
own petard. So long as Peretori is not in earnest, well and good. I
wonder if there is a telephone anywhere here?"
There was a telephone at the back of the editor's desk, and Lechmere
promptly called up Scotland Yard in search of information. After a pause
the information came, which Lechmere carefully jotted down in his pocket
book. Eveleigh came back with the air of a busy man.
"I'm going to do it, Lechmere," he said. "No thanks needed: it will be a
good thing for us. And now I shall be glad if you will go, as I shall be
pretty busy for the next hour. I think you will be safe to leave matters
in my hands."