With his moustache shaved off, and attired in a painfully respectable
ready-made suit, Rivers presented himself at Denton House at one
o'clock. He found Mr. Bradshaw in a highly-wrought condition.
"So you're Parker's cousin? A pretty mess he's landed me in!"
"I hope he's not very bad, sir."
"I hope he is. I hope he'll die," said Mr. Bradshaw vengefully. "You've
lived with Mr. Rivers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Can you announce visitors?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go to that door, and announce the Lord Mayor."
Rivers--or, rather, James Finny--flung open the door, and announced in
stentorian accents, "His Worship the Lord Mayor of London."
"You hass!" shouted Mr. Bradshaw. "You only worship him when you're in
the prisoners' box. I 'spect that's where you met him. Call him 'his
Lordship' when he's a-wisitin'. Now again."
James obeyed.
"Bravo--that's better!" said another voice. It proceeded from a mite of
a man who had approached noiselessly, and who now stood rubbing his
hands approvingly. "But it's rather late for rehearsals, Mr. Bradshaw,
isn't it?" he added.
"Parker's taken ill," said Mr. Bradshaw savagely. "He's sent this screw
to take his place."
"So thoughtful of Parker," murmured the little man. "What's your name,
and where do you come from?" addressing the candidate for office.
"James Finny, sir--from Mr. Birket Rivers."
"Mr. Birket Rivers," reflected the other. "Ah, to be sure--Mr. Birket
Rivers, the young millionaire. Drives a team of spanking bays at the
Four-in-Hand meets. Attaché at Constantinople, or something. Came into
money and left the Service. Wishes he'd stopped in it, I believe. A
very active young gentleman. Oh, yes, I've heard of your master--your
late master, James Finny."
The little man was studying him intently all the time. Then he fixed his
eyes on Rivers' hands. He lifted the right one, looked at it, and passed
on.
There was a loud ring, and a footman entered with "Please, Mr. Bradshaw,
there's the gentlemen come from the hembassy."
The butler bustled to the door. "Go up to Parker's room, and change into
his things at once, and then come down to me in the 'all," he said to
Rivers.
"Yes, sir," Rivers replied. "Beg pardon, Mr. Bradshaw, who was that
small gentleman wot just left us?"
"That small gentleman," said Mr. Bradshaw, with swelling dignity, "is
Mr. Marvell, from Scotland Yard; so you'd better be careful, Finny."
Prince Ali Azim, accompanied by the Vizier and a numerous suite, arrived
that afternoon, and the whole household was thenceforth kept busy
attending to the wants, numerous and peculiar, of the Persians. Rivers'
chief duties were to attend to the hall door, and to help to wait at
meals. He did his work to the satisfaction of Mr. Bradshaw, and never a
day passed without Mr. Marvell, who was installed as the protecting
angel of the establishment, staring fixedly at him, and then passing
some word of commendation in a tone that brought the blood to his face.
"A shocking habit you have of blushing, James Finny," the little man
would say as he toddled away.
And all the time the new footman was trying to find out where the Order
of the Lion and the Sun was kept.
It was the 12th before he ascertained that it was in one of three
despatch boxes kept in a bookcase in the library.
The Burglars' meeting took place on the 13th. He must purloin it before
then--that very night, if possible.
At five o'clock the Vizier was taken ill.
"Some of Parker's leavin's, I'll be bound," said Mr. Bradshaw. "Same
symtims. Looks all right, and talks despairin' of pains an' shivers.
Won't have a doctor, neither. If the Wizzer pipes out, Finny, your
preshus cousin'll be responsible."
At 8 p.m. the Prince and his suite, with the exception of the invalid
Vizier, set out for the Alhambra and supper at the Carlton. Mr.
Marvell, as usual, followed closely in their wake.
At nine o'clock James Finny was off duty. "Now or never," he thought. He
watched his opportunity, and then, unperceived, entered the library, and
there hid himself behind a curtain, intending to wait till the household
was asleep, and then to open the despatch box from his bunch of skeleton
keys. He had been there perhaps half an hour when the door opened, and,
to his amazement, the Vizier entered. He was followed by a servant
bringing coffee and cigarettes. There were cups for two.
The minutes passed slowly. The Vizier looked impatiently at the clock,
then strode up to one of the windows, pulled back the heavy curtain,
raised the blind, and looked out. Rivers' pulses quickened. What if the
Vizier were to come to his window?
"Ha!" exclaimed the Persian, replacing the curtain, and resuming his
seat.
The door opened, and a bemuffled object made its appearance. The Vizier
rose. The servant withdrew, and the object emerged from its wraps.
Rivers knew the man at once. He had met him at Constantinople. It was
Count Moranoff.
The Vizier bowed.
The newcomer responded, and then gave a sigh of relief.
"_Peste!_ but it was warm, Vizier," he said. "I am delighted at last to
have the honour and the supreme pleasure of meeting you."
"Your Excellency," replied the Vizier, "the fame of Count Moranoff has
for long inspired me with an intense wish that we should meet. Allah has
at last granted the desire of my life. Will your Excellency seat
yourself? Here is coffee _alla Turca_."
The count drew up his chair, and took the proffered cup. As he lit a
cigarette, his eyes travelled appreciatively over the portraits of a
dozen Dentons, famous in the service of their country. "It is fitting we
should meet here," he said, "surrounded by these illustrious gentlemen,
who look on, but cannot move. It is prophetic."
"It is Kismet," said the Vizier gravely.
"Kismet, assisted by two statesmen," returned the Count. "Exactly. But I
mustn't lose time, Vizier, as our moments are precious." He put his hand
into his breast pocket, and produced a document. "Here is the draft of
our understanding, arranged so far as is possible with three thousand
versts between us. Now we must discuss the final details. I have
indicated my suggestions, and if they meet with your approval it will be
possible for us to sign before you leave London."
The Persian watched the smoke rings float upward. "There is no haste,"
he said. "'Fruit ripens slowly under grey skies,' as our poet sings."
"Quite so--quite so," said the Russian, conscious of an error. "This
year--the next will do. Our treasury has many drains upon it. We are not
anxious to add to the number."
The Vizier smoked imperturbably. "The skies are grey here," he said at
length, "but this London holds some wonderful men. One I met
yesterday--an American. He is young. His hair is still flaxen. Yet he
spoke of money as though it grew on rose trees. Half a million roubles
are as nothing to him. He gave that sum for an Italian picture--an old,
shabby-looking thing such as my master would not place in his anterooms.
He owns oil mines, railways, banks. Allah! what does that flaxen-haired
youth not own? My heart ached at the number of his possessions."
"These Americans talk," replied the Count. "Half they say is false, half
exaggeration."
"Sometimes, no doubt," said the Vizier, "but not always. I know this man
is rich. He is one of the new kings of the earth. We have already had a
transaction together," and he sighed contentedly.
"There are kings and kings," replied the Russian. "There are also
emperors. Your Excellency is now in negotiation with one who controls
the destinies of countless millions--men and roubles. When last I saw
his Majesty he said, 'Tell his Excellency the Grand Vizier that I would
his wisdom could be added to that of my counsellors. When the wishes of
my heart respecting the new treaty are consummated he will honour me by
accepting half a million roubles.'"
The Persian gazed reflectively into space. "Your master is great," he
said, "and he is generous. His rewards make glad the hearts of poets. He
is the joy of the poor. Would that I were a poet or poor. So should my
voice praise him also."
The Russian's eye gleamed, but he continued suavely:
"So said my royal master, 'Half a million roubles shall be his when the
treaty is signed; five hundred thousand more when the Russian flag
floats in the Persian Gulf.'"
The Persian leaned back resignedly.
"Great is the power of your master," he said. "As Russia is bigger than
America, so does his power exceed that of the flaxen-haired gentleman I
met yesterday. The Americans are numbered by tens, your master's
subjects by hundreds of millions. Besides, it is always more agreeable
to deal with a first-class diplomatist. Let me look at the draft."
Count Moranoff handed over the document. The Vizier read it slowly. The
terms were fairly comprehensive. Behind his curtain Rivers breathed hard
at their audacity, and his blood tingled at the thought that it rested
with him to checkmate this daring move. The statesmen discoursed
frankly, and there was no disguise of the object in view. India was
eventually to be attacked by Russia, who was prepared to pay for
facilities granted. The north-eastern province of Persia was a necessary
factor of the scheme, and a railway was to be commenced at once from
Astrabad to Meshed. But the most striking part of the plan was the
acquisition by Russia of a port in the Persian Gulf. The Isle of Kishm
was to be ceded to her. The only discussion between the two statesmen
was with regard to the Island of Ashurada in the Caspian. The Vizier
demanded its evacuation by Russia in partial payment for Kishm, but more
particularly as a sop to the Persian people. After much demur this was
finally agreed to by Moranoff, in addition to the annuity of two million
roubles granted to the Shah.
The Vizier folded up the document.
"My secretary shall transcribe this to-morrow," he said, "and we can
sign after our return from Windsor. Strange, is it not," he
soliloquised, "that our former negotiations came to a head when the
English Mission brought the Garter, and our new one is to be consummated
while we are in the act of returning the compliment? These English are
fated to be hoodwinked."
"When men such as you and I get together, my dear Vizier----" began the
Russian sententiously. Then he stopped short, for the door had suddenly
opened.
The Persian turned angrily, and then rose to his feet as a tall,
richly-dressed man entered. It was the Prince Ali Azim.
"Vizier," said the Prince abruptly, "whom have you here? Your
physician?"
The Vizier's face had assumed a bland smile, and instinctively he
endeavoured to cover the treaty. But the Prince saw the movement.
"Why hide the prescription, Vizier?" he said.
The Russian's face grew livid, but the Vizier regained his usual
composure.
"Your Royal Highness," he said, "permit me to present his Excellency
Count Moranoff."
"Ten thousand pardons, Count," said the Prince, slightly returning the
Count's profound inclination. "You will, perhaps, understand my mistake
when I tell you that the Vizier is far from well. He has, no doubt,
concealed the fact from you, but he was too ill to accompany me this
evening to the hall of music. Hence my surprise at finding him here. I
fear that his extraordinary zeal for affairs has led him prematurely
from his bed. I am sure that you would not wish him to trespass unduly
on his strength."
"Your Royal Highness's surmise is correct," said Moranoff. "It would,
indeed, be an international calamity were the Vizier to break down. I
hope I have not hastened that end." He again bowed profoundly to the
Prince, refused the Vizier's offer of assistance with his wraps, and
then, with a cold adieu to him, left the room.
"Now, Hasan Kuli," thundered the Prince when they were alone, "what
intrigue is this?"
"Your Royal Highness's suspicions are uncalled for. Moranoff and I are
old friends by correspondence. We had never met personally, and he
naturally seized this opportunity."
"I did not know he was in England," said the Prince. "The Russian
Ambassador incidentally referred to him to-day as being in Petersburg. I
left you in bed, full of toothache and indigestion. I return
unexpectedly, and find you deliberating with a Russian who is supposed
to be five hundred _farsakhs_ away. Give me that paper."
The Vizier reluctantly produced it, and the Prince read it through.
"Ah," he said, as he refolded it. "I see you are making a cat's-paw of
me again. My mission here is to do away with any ill-effects consequent
on our treaty with Russia. You will remember that when we were fooling
the English Mission in Teheran I knew nothing of the treaty just
concluded with Russia. My uncle and you delighted to keep me in the
dark; yet all the time it was I who did the work. Was it his Majesty the
Shah who played at billiards and cards with the English? Was it you who
fought them at lawn tennis. Bah! I laugh at the thought. But I played at
all. I lost my money at cards and billiards, and I suffered defeat at
lawn tennis till the perspiration rolled down me, and my legs gave way.
And you smoked and laughed, and got all the profit. I, who worked, got
none. Now I have come over land and sea with the Order of the Lion and
the Sun. Again I do the work--again I know nothing. I find you
intriguing behind my back. You treat me as a child; but you forget that
some day I may be Shah. You play with fire, Vizier."
"Your Royal Highness, I beg you to believe that I have acted for what I
thought was the benefit of our country."
"And your own pocket," added the Prince. "How much plunder do you get
out of this?"
The Vizier held up his hands in horror. "Your Royal Highness," he said,
"is nothing ever done disinterestedly--from pure patriotism?"
[Illustration: "SUDDENLY HE ROSE, TOOK THE DRAFT OF THE TREATY, WENT TO
THE DESPATCH BOXES, AND PLACED IT IN ONE OF THEM."
(_p. 175._)]
"Not by Hasan Kuli," sneered the Prince. "Please save yourself useless
declamation. You may as well know my terms at once. The price of my
acquiescence in this matter is one million roubles."
The Vizier gasped.
"One million roubles!" he exclaimed. "Does money grow?"
"So far as I know, it does not," replied the Prince acidly. "But you may
as well spare yourself unnecessary questions. These are my terms.
Arrange with Moranoff to-morrow, or take it from your own profit--I care
not which; but unless a portion of the money is forthcoming before we
leave this cursed land I will----"
"You will betray us?"
"I do not explain my intentions to Viziers," replied the young man
haughtily. "You understand me, I hope. Here is your treaty." He tossed
the document on the table and left.
The Vizier threw himself on a sofa, and groaned aloud. He lay there
long--so long that Rivers, behind the curtain, was stiff and weary. And
there was the Vizier, now apparently dozing at intervals--perhaps
going to make a night of it.
Suddenly he rose, took the draft of the treaty, went to the despatch
boxes, and placed it in one of them. His body intervened between Rivers'
view of them, but the watcher followed his movements as best he could.
Then the Vizier turned to the door, and clicked out the light as he
passed through.
Rivers stretched himself, but he did not venture to stir from behind the
curtain for some time. At length he stepped out, turned on his portable
electric light, crossed the room, and stood before the despatch boxes.
There were three, all exactly alike. One held the insignia of the Lion
and the Sun. That was--yes, that was the bottom one. The treaty was in
the middle one. The top one was unimportant. Rivers lifted out the
middle one, and essayed to open it with his keys, but in vain. Then he
tried the bottom one--that containing the Persian Order--but with no
better success. The box would have to be forced open elsewhere. Yet he
dare not carry it across the hall. Other means had to be found for
getting it out of the room, and the way had occurred to him as he stood
behind the curtain.
One box he might pass safely through this instrumentality, but only one.
Two would court defeat. Which box was he to take--the one that held the
Order of the Lion and the Sun, the object of all his scheming, or the
other, in which lay the treaty?
Rivers' mind had taken its resolve at the instant he had seen the draft
placed therein. Since Moranoff had appeared, he had lost all immediate
interest in the Burglars' Club. Whether he became a member or not was of
little moment, but it was a matter of national importance that the
Foreign Secretary should see the draft of the treaty. The Earl of
Ancoats was hard to convince of anyone's dishonesty. His own honour was
so untarnished that he refused to believe less of others. He had
declined to take hints about the former treaty between Russia and
Persia, and now, with the Shah's Mission at his door, he would probably
refuse to believe that this was but another blind, covering a further
and bolder intrigue. Lord Ancoats must see the treaty.
Rivers took the middle box across to the window, then drew up the blind
and waited. The red-coated sentry passed. Could he manage it before the
soldier was round again?
Ah! here was his chance.
He opened the window gently. "Hi!" he called out to the passing hansom.
The man pulled up, got down, and came to the window.
"I want you to take this box straight to Lord Ancoats. He lives in Eaton
Square. Tell him Mr. Birket Rivers sent it, and he must open it at once.
I will see him in the morning about it. Here's a sovereign. If Lord
Ancoats gets it within an hour, I'll give you another sovereign
to-morrow. Here you are. Cut along. Drive like blazes."
As the man mounted his seat, the sentry came round the corner. Rivers
cautiously closed the window, and drew the blind. He then pulled a chair
behind the curtain, and went to sleep on it till four o'clock, when he
made his way to his own room.
First thing in the morning he sent a message to John Parker, who turned
up in good health at ten o'clock, and claimed his post back.
Half an hour later Rivers left, assured of Mr. Bradshaw's offer of the
next vacancy in the household. He drove straight to the Albany, and then
to Eaton Square. The Earl was at the Foreign Office. Within the hour his
lordship received him.
"Well, Mr. Rivers," said Lord Ancoats, producing the despatch box from a
safe. "What is the meaning of this?"
[Illustration: "INSTEAD OF THE DRAFT, THERE, ON A PURPLE VELVET CUSHION,
WAS THE GLITTERING ORDER OF THE LION AND THE SUN."
(_p. 178._)]
"It explains itself, my lord."
"Indeed," said the statesman drily. "What do you think it contains?"
"The draft of a new treaty between Russia and Persia."
"Open it."
Rivers did so, and, instead of the draft, there on a purple velvet
cushion was the glittering Order of the Lion and the Sun!
Rivers was stupefied.
"Was there nothing else?" he asked in bewilderment.
"No, sir; and perhaps you will now explain how you came into possession
of this, and why you sent it to me. It is surely the property of the
Persian Mission."
Lord Ancoats' demeanour was not reassuring, but Rivers plunged boldly
into the matter.
"Last night, at Denton House, Count Moranoff visited the Persian
Vizier," he commenced.
"How do you know that?"
"I saw him. I was present at the interview--unknown, of course. He
brought with him the draft of a treaty supplementing the last one. It
had chiefly reference to the acquisition of a Russian port in the
Persian Gulf."
"Ah!" said Lord Ancoats, "that's a bold move. Go on, please."
"The Vizier placed the draft in one of three despatch boxes like this. I
thought this was the one, and I sent it here so that your lordship could
read the treaty for yourself. I deeply regret that I made a mistake in
the box, but I can give the gist of the treaty from memory."
"Please do so now."
Rivers' memory was good, and the words of the treaty had burnt
themselves on his brain. He recited the terms without hesitation. The
minister heard him in silence, making notes.
"Thank you, Rivers," he said at the end. "You will please let me have
that in writing in time for to-morrow's Cabinet." Then he got up and
paced the room. "It is an unfortunate situation. I think we shall be
able to meet the political side of it, but the investiture takes place
at Windsor to-morrow, and this discovery is, to say the least,
embarrassing. However, we have to thank you for being forewarned. You
evidently anticipated this move."
"I'm afraid not, sir. It was as much luck as anything else on my part."
"But you were at Denton House?"
"I was there on other business," said Rivers frankly.
Lord Ancoats looked grave. "Well, Mr. Rivers," he said, "I will not
inquire too closely what that other business was. You have rendered a
service to the State which will not be forgotten. Now, what about this?"
pointing to the box.
"I will see that the Vizier gets it."
"At once?"
Rivers hesitated. Only then did he remember he now had in his possession
what he wanted. He could pay his entrance fee.
"I will see that it is at Denton House by the morning," he said.
Lord Ancoats watched him intently.
"Does the Burglars' Club meet to-night?" he said quietly.
"I--I beg your pardon," stammered Rivers.
Lord Ancoats laid a kindly hand on his shoulder. "I was only told of
that institution within the hour," he said, "and till a moment ago I
didn't believe the information. Take my advice, Rivers, and leave it.
Its existence, you see, is known to some of the outside world. As a
friend I warn you that you will be watched to-night. Don't spoil your
career. Why did you leave the Service? Oh, I remember; but you're not
satisfied with merely killing time, are you? Will you come back to us?
The First Secretaryship at Vienna is vacant. Would you take it?"