PROTECTING THE BLOOD
"A most extraordinary person," said Count Quinnox to King, after Mr.
Blithers had taken his departure, close upon the heels of the Feltons
who were being escorted home by the Prince and Dank. The venerable
Graustarkian's heroic face was a study. He had just concluded a
confidential hour in a remote corner of the library with the
millionaire while the younger people were engaged in a noisy though
temperate encounter with the roulette wheel at the opposite end of the
room. "I've never met any one like him, Mr. King." He mopped his brow,
and still looked a trifle dazed.
King laughed. "There isn't any one like him, Count. He is the one and
only Blithers."
"He is very rich?"
"Millions and millions," said Mrs. King. "Didn't he tell you how many?"
"I am not quite sure. This daughter of his--is she attractive?"
"Rather. Why?"
"He informed me that her dot would be twenty millions if she married
the right man. Moreover, she is his only heir. 'Pon my soul, Mrs. King,
he quite took my breath away when he announced that he knew all about
our predicament in relation to the Russian loan. It really sounded
quite--you might say significant. Does--does he imagine that--good
heaven, it's almost stupefying!"
King smoked in silence for many seconds. There was a pucker of
annoyance on his wife's fair brow as she stared reflectively through
the window at the distant lights of Blitherwood, far up the mountain
side.
"Sounds ominous to me," said King drily. "Is Bobby for sale?"
The Count favoured him with a look of horror. "My dear Mr. King!" Then
as comprehension came, he smiled. "I see. No, he isn't for sale. He is
a Prince, not a pawn. Mr. Blithers may be willing to buy but--" he
proudly shook his head.
"He was feeling you out, however," said King, ruminating. "Planting the
seed, so to speak."
"There is a rumour that she is to marry Count Lannet," said his wife.
"A horrid creature. There was talk in the newspapers last winter of an
Italian duke. Poor girl! From what I hear of her, she is rather a good
sort, sensible and more genuinely American in her tastes than might be,
expected after her bringing-up. And she _is_ pretty."
"How about this young Scoville, Rainie?"
"He's a nice boy but--he'll never get her. She is marked up too high
for him. He doesn't possess so much as the title to an acre of land."
"Extraordinary, the way you Americans go after our titles," said the
Count good-naturedly.
"No more extraordinary than the way you Europeans go after our money,"
was her retort.
"I don't know which is the cheaper, titles or money in these days,"
said King. "I understand one can get a most acceptable duke for three
or four millions, a nice marquis or count for half as much, and a Sir
on tick." He eyed the Count speculatively. "Of course a prince of the
royal blood comes pretty high."
"Pretty high," said the Count grimly. He seemed to be turning something
over in his mind. "Your amazing Mr. Blithers further confided to me
that he might be willing to take care of the Russian obligation for us
if no one else turns up in time. As a matter of fact, without waiting
for my reply, he said that he would have his lawyers look into the
matter of security at once. I was somewhat dazed, but I think he said
that it would be no trouble at all for him to provide the money himself
and he would be glad to accommodate us if we had no other plan in mind.
Amazing, amazing!"
"Of course, you told him it was not to be considered," said King
sharply.
"I endeavoured to do so, but I fear he did not grasp what I was saying.
Moreover, I tried to tell him that it was a matter I was not at liberty
to discuss. He didn't hear that, either."
"He is not in the habit of hearing any one but himself, I fear," said
King.
"I am afraid poor Robin is in jeopardy," said his wife, ruefully. "The
Bogieman is after him."
"Does the incomprehensible creature imagine--" began the Count loudly,
and then found it necessary to pull his collar away from his throat as
if to save himself from immediate strangulation.
"Mr. Blithers is not blessed with an imagination, Count," said she. "He
doesn't imagine anything."
"If he should presume to insult our Prince by--" grated the old
soldier, very red in the face and erect--"if he should presume to--"
Words failed him and an instant later he was laughing, but somewhat
uncertainly, with his amused host and hostess.
Mr. Blithers reached home in high spirits. His wife was asleep, but he
awoke her without ceremony.
"I say, Lou, wake up. Got some news for you. We'll have a prince in the
family before you can say Jack Robinson."
She sat up in bed, blinking with dismay. "In heaven's name, Will, what
have you been doing? What--_have_ you been--"
"Cutting bait," said he jovially. "In a day or two I'll throw the hook
in, and you'll see what I land. He's as good as caught right now, but
we'll let him nibble a while before we jerk. And say, he's a corker,
Lou. Finest young fellow I've seen in many a day. He--"
"You don't mean to say that you--you actually said anything to him
about--about--Oh, my God, Will, don't tell me that you were crazy
enough to--" cried the poor woman, almost in tears.
"Now cool down, cool down," he broke in soothingly. "I'm no fool, Lou.
Trust me to do the fine work in a case like this. Sow the right kind of
seeds and you'll get results every time. I merely dropped a few hints,
that's all,--and in the right direction, believe me. Count Equinox will
do the rest. I'll bet my head we'll have this prince running after Maud
so--"
"What _did_ you say?" she demanded. There was a fine moisture on her
upper lip. He sat down on the edge of the bed and talked for half an
hour without interruption. When he came to the end of his oration, she
turned over with her face to the wall and fairly sobbed: "What will the
Kings think of us? What will they think?"
"Who the dickens cares what the Kings think?" he roared, perfectly
aghast at the way she took it. "Who are the Kings? Tell me that! who
are they?"
"I--I can't bear to talk about it. Go to bed."
He wiped his brow helplessly. "You beat anything I've ever seen. What's
the matter with you? Don't you want this prince for Maud? Well, then,
what the deuce are you crying about? You said you wanted him, didn't
you? Well, I'm going to get him. If I say I'll do a thing, you can bet
your last dollar I'll do it. That's the kind of a man William W.
Blithers is. You leave it to me. There's only one way to land these
foreign noblemen, and I'm--"
She faced him once more, and angrily. "Listen to me," she said. "I've
had a talk with Maud. She has gone to bed with a splitting headache and
I'm not surprised. Don't you suppose the poor child has a particle of
pride? She guessed at once just what you had gone over there for and
she cried her eyes out. Now she declares she will never be able to look
the Prince in the face, and as for the Kings--Oh, it's sickening. Why
can't you leave these things to me? You go about like a bull in a china
shop. You might at least have waited until the poor child had an
opportunity to see the man before rushing in with your talk about
money. She--"
"Confound it, Lou, don't blame me for everything. We all three agreed
at lunch that he was a better bargain than this measly count we've been
considering. Maud says she won't marry the count, anyhow, and she _did_
say that if this prince was all that he's cracked up to be, she
wouldn't mind being the Princess of Groostock. You can't deny that,
Lou. You heard her say it. You--"
"She didn't say Groostock," said his wife shortly. "And you forget that
she said she wouldn't promise anything until she'd met him and decided
whether she liked him."
"She'll like him all right," said he confidently.
"She will refuse to even meet him, if she hears of your silly blunder
to-night."
"Refuse to meet him?" gasped Mr. Blithers.
"I may be able to reason with her, Will, but--but she's stubborn, as
well you know. I'm afraid you've spoiled everything."
His face brightened. Lowering his voice to a half-whisper, he said: "We
needn't tell her what I said to that old chap, Lou. Just let her think
I sat around like a gump and never said a word to anybody. We can--"
"But she'll pin you down, Will, and you know you can't lie with a
straight face."
"Maybe--maybe I'd better run down to New York for a few days," he
muttered unhappily. "You can square it better than I can."
"In other words, I can lie with a straight face," she said ironically.
"I never thought she'd balk like this," said he, ignoring the remark.
"I fancy you'd better go to New York," she said mercilessly.
"I've got business there anyhow," muttered he. "I--I think I'll go
before she's up in the morning."
"You can save yourself a bad hour or two if you leave before
breakfast," said she levelly.
"Get around her some way, Lou," he pleaded. "Tell her I'm sorry I had
to leave so early, and--and that I love her better than anything on
earth, and that I'll be back the end of the week. If--if she wants
anything in New York, just have her wire me. You say she cried?"
"She did, and I don't blame her."
Mr. Blithers scowled. "Well--well, you see if you can do any better
than I did. Arrange it somehow for them to meet. She'll--she'll like
him and then--by George, she'll thank us both for the interest we take
in her future. It wouldn't surprise me if she fell in love with him
right off the reel. And you may be sure he'll fall in love with her. He
can't help it. The knowledge that she'll have fifty millions some day
won't have anything to do with his feeling for her, once he--"
"Don't mention the word millions again. Will Blithers."
"All right," said he, more humbly than he knew, "But listen to this,
old girl; I'm going to get this prince for her if it's the last act of
my life. I never failed in anything and I won't fail in this."
"Well, go to bed, dear, and don't worry. I may be able to undo the
mischief. It--it isn't hopeless, of course."
"I'll trust you, Lou, to do your part. Count on me to do mine when the
time comes. And I still insist that I have sowed the right sort of seed
to-night. You'll see. Just wait."
Sure enough, Mr. Blithers was off for New York soon after daybreak the
next morning, and with him went a mighty determination to justify
himself before the week was over. His wily brain was working as it had
never worked before.
Two days later, Count Quinnox received a message from New York bearing
the distressing information that the two private banking institutions
on which he had been depending for aid in the hour of trouble had
decided that it would be impossible for them to make the loan under
consideration. The financial agents who had been operating in behalf of
the Graustark government confessed that they were unable to explain the
sudden change of heart on the part of the bankers, inasmuch as the
negotiations practically had been closed with them. The decision of the
directors was utterly incomprehensible under the circumstances.
Vastly disturbed, Count Quinnox took the first train to New York,
accompanied by Truxton King, who was confident that outside influences
had been brought to bear upon the situation, influences inimical to
Graustark. Both were of the opinion that Russia had something to do
with it, although the negotiations had been conducted with all the
secrecy permissible in such cases.
"We may be able to get to the banks through Blithers," said King.
"How could he possibly be of assistance to us?" the Count inquired.
"He happens to be a director in both concerns, besides being such a
power in the financial world that his word is almost law when it comes
to the big deals."
All the way down to the city Count Quinnox was thoughtful, even
pre-occupied. They were nearing the Terminal when he leaned over and,
laying his hand on King's knee, said, after a long interval of silence
between them:
"I suppose you know that Graustark has not given up hope that Prince
Robin may soon espouse the daughter of our neighbour, Dawsbergen."
King gave him a queer look. "By jove, that's odd. I was thinking of
that very thing when you spoke."
"The union would be of no profit to us in a pecuniary way, my friend,"
explained the Count. "Still it is most desirable for other reasons.
Dawsbergen is not a rich country, nor are its people progressive. The
reigning house, however, is an old one and rich in traditions. Money,
my dear King, is not everything in this world. There are some things it
cannot buy. It is singularly ineffective when opposed to an honest
sentiment. Even though the young Princess were to come to Graustark
without a farthing, she would still be hailed with the wildest acclaim.
We are a race of blood worshippers, if I may put it in that way. She
represents a force that has dominated our instincts for a great many
centuries, and we are bound hand and foot, heart and soul, by the
so-called fetters of imperialism. We are fierce men, but we bend the
knee and we wear the yoke because the sword of destiny is in the hand
that drives us. To-day we are ruled by a prince whose sire was not of
the royal blood. I do not say that we deplore this infusion, but it
behooves us to protect the original strain. We must conserve our royal
blood. Our prince assumes an attitude of independence that we find
difficult to overcome. He is prepared to defy an old precedent in
support of a new one. In other words, he points out the unmistakably
happy union of his own mother, the late Princess Yetive, and the
American Lorry, and it is something we cannot go behind. He declares
that his mother set an example that he may emulate without prejudice to
his country if he is allowed a free hand in choosing his mate.
"But we people of Graustark cannot look with complaisance on the
possible result of his search for a sharer of the throne. Traditions
must be upheld--or we die. True, the Crown Princess of Dawsbergen has
American blood in her veins but her sire is a prince royal. Her mother,
as you know, was an American girl. She who sits on the throne with
Robin must be a princess by birth or the grip on the sword of destiny
is weakened and the dynasty falters. I know what is in your mind. You
are wondering why our Prince should not wed one of your fabulously rich
American girls--"
"My dear Count," said King warmly, "I am not thinking anything of the
sort. Naturally I am opposed to your pre-arranged marriages and all
that sort of thing, but still I appreciate what it means as a
safe-guard to the crown you support. I sincerely hope that Robin may
find his love-mate in the small circle you draw for him, but I fear it
isn't likely. He is young, romantic, impressionable, and he abhors the
thought of marriage without love. He refuses to even consider the
princess you have picked out for him. Time may prove to him that his
ideals are false and he may resign himself to the--I was about to say
the inevitable."
"Inevitable is the word, Mr. King," said Count Quinnox grimly. "'Pon my
word, sir, I don't know what our princes and princesses are coming to
in these days. There seems to be a perfect epidemic of independence
among them. They marry whom they please in spite of royal command, and
the courts of Europe are being shorn of half their glory. It wouldn't
surprise me to see an American woman on the throne of England one of
these days. 'Gad, sir, you know what happened in Axphain two years ago.
Her crown prince renounced the throne and married a French singer."
"And they say he is a very happy young beggar," said King drily.
"It is the prerogative of fools to be happy," said Count Quinnox.
"Not so with princes, eh?"
"It is a duty with princes, Mr. King."
They had not been in New York City an hour before they discovered that
William W. Blithers was the man to whom they would have to appeal if
they expected to gain a fresh hearing with the banks. The agents were
in a dismal state of mind. The deal had been blocked no later than the
afternoon of the day before and at a time when everything appeared to
be going along most swimmingly. Blithers was the man to see; he and he
alone could bring pressure to bear on the directorates that might
result in a reconsideration of the surprising verdict. Something had
happened during the day to alter the friendly attitude of the banks;
they were now politely reluctant, as one of the agents expressed it,
which really meant that opposition to the loan had appeared from some
unexpected source, as a sort of eleventh hour obstacle. The heads of
the two banks had as much as said that negotiations were at an end,
that was the long and short of it; it really didn't matter what was
back of their sudden change of front, the fact still remained that the
transaction was as "dead as a door nail" unless it could be revived by
the magnetic touch of a man like Blithers.
"What can have happened to cause them to change their minds so
abruptly?" cried the perplexed Count. "Surely our prime minister and
the cabinet have left nothing undone to convince them of Graustark's
integrity and--"
"Pardon me. Count," interrupted one of the brokers, "shall I try to
make an appointment for you with Mr. Blithers? I hear he is in town for
a few days."
Count Quinnox looked to Truxton King for inspiration and that gentleman
favoured him with a singularly dis-spiriting nod of the head. The old
Graustarkian cleared his throat and rather stiffly announced that he
would receive Mr. Blithers if he would call on him at the Ritz that
afternoon.
"What!" exclaimed both agents, half-starting from their chairs in
amazement.
The Count stared hard at them. "You may say to him that I will be in at
four."
"He'll tell you to go to--ahem!" The speaker coughed just in time.
"Blithers isn't in the habit of going out of his way to--to oblige
anybody. He wouldn't do it for the Emperor of Germany."
"But," said the Count with a frosty smile, "I am not the Emperor of
Germany."
"Better let me make an appointment for you to see him at his office.
It's just around the corner." There was a pleading note in the
speaker's voice.
"You might save your face, Calvert, by saying that the Count will be
pleased to have him take tea with him at the Ritz," suggested King.
"Tea!" exclaimed Calvert scornfully. "Blithers, doesn't drink the
stuff."
"It's a figure of speech," said King patiently.
"All right, I'll telephone," said the other dubiously.
He came back a few minutes later with a triumphant look in his eye.
"Blithers says to tell Count Quinnox he'll see him to-morrow morning at
half-past eight at his office. Sorry he's engaged this afternoon."
"But did you say I wanted him to have tea with us!" demanded the Count,
an angry flush leaping to his cheek.
"I did. I'm merely repeating what he said in reply. Half-past eight, at
his office, Count. Those were his words."
"It is the most brazen exhibition of insolence I've ever--" began the
Count furiously, but checked himself with an effort. "I--I hope you did
not say that I would come, sir!"
"Yes. It's the only way--"
"Well, be good enough to call him up again and say to him that
I'll--I'll see him damned before I'll come to his office to-morrow at
eight-thirty or at any other hour." And with that the Count got up and
stalked out of the office, putting on his hat as he did so.
"Count," said King, as they descended in the elevator, "I've got an
idea in my head that Blithers will be at the Ritz at four."
"Do you imagine, sir, that I will receive him?"
"Certainly. Are you not a diplomat?"
"I am a Minister of War," said the Count, and his scowl was an
indication of absolute proficiency in the science.
"And what's more," went on King, reflectively, "it wouldn't in the
least surprise me if Blithers is the man behind the directors in this
sudden move of the banks."
"My dear King, he displayed the keenest interest and sympathy the other
night at your house. He--"
"Of course I may be wrong," admitted King, but his brow was clouded.
Shortly after luncheon that day, Mrs. Blithers received a telegram from
her husband. It merely stated that he was going up to have tea with the
Count at four o'clock, and not to worry as "things were shaping
themselves nicely."