THE LIEUTENANT REPORTS
Five days later as the _Jupiter_ was discharging passengers at
Plymouth, Count Quinnox and Lieutenant Dank stood well forward on the
promenade deck watching the operations. The younger man was moody and
distrait, an unusual condition for him but one that had been noticeably
recurrent during the past two or three days. He pulled at his smart
little moustache and looked out upon the world through singularly
lack-lustre eyes. Something had gone wrong with him, and it was
something that he felt in duty bound to lay before his superior, the
grim old Minister of War and hereditary chief of the Castle Guard.
Occasionally his sombre gaze shifted to a spot farther down the deck,
where a young man and woman leaned upon the rail and surveyed the scene
of activity below.
"What is on your mind, Dank?" asked the Count abruptly. "Out with it."
Dank started. "It's true, then? I _do_ look as much of a fool as I
feel, eh?" There was bitterness in his usually cheery voice.
"Feel like a fool, eh?" growled the old soldier.
"Pretty mess I've made of the business," lamented Dank surlily.
"Putting myself up as a contender against a fellow like Robin, and
dreaming that I could win out, even for a minute! Good Lord, what an
ass I am! Why we've only made it worse, Count. We've touched him with
the spur of rivalry, and what could be more calamitous than that? From
being a rather matter-of-fact, indifferent observer, he becomes a
bewildering cavalier bent on conquest at any cost. I am swept aside as
if I were a parcel of rags. For two days I stood between him and the
incomparable Miss Guile. Then he suddenly arouses himself. My cake is
dough. I am nobody. My feet get cold, as they say in America,--although
I don't know why they say it. What has the temperature of one's feet to
do with it? See! There they are. They are constantly together, walking,
sitting, standing, eating, drinking, reading--_Eh bien!_ You have seen
with your own eyes. The beautiful Miss Guile has bewitched our Prince,
and my labour is not only lost but I myself am lost. _Mon dieu!_"
The Count stared at him in perplexity for a moment. Then a look of
surprise came into his eyes,--surprise not unmingled with scorn.
"You don't mean to say, Dank, that you've fallen in love with her? Oh,
you absurd fledgelings. Will you--"
"Forgive my insolence, Count, but it is forty years since you were a
fledgeling. You don't see things as you saw them forty years ago.
Permit me to remind you that you are a grandfather."
"Your point is well taken, my lad," said the Count, with a twinkle in
his eye. "You can't help being young any more than I can help being
old. Youth is perennial, old age a winding-sheet. I am to take it,
then, that you've lost your heart to the fair--"
"Why not?" broke in Dank fiercely. "Why should it appear incredible to
you? Is she not the most entrancing creature in all the world? Is she
not the most appealing, the most adorable, the most feminine of all her
sex? Is it possible that one can be so old that it is impossible for
him to feel the charm, the loveliness, the--"
"For heaven's sake, Dank," said the old man in alarm, "don't
gesticulate so wildly. People will think we are quarrelling. Calm
yourself, my boy."
"You set a task for me and I obey. You urge me to do my duty by
Graustark. You tell me I am a handsome dog and irresistible. She will
be overwhelmed by my manly beauty, my valour, my soldierly bearing,--so
say you! And what is the outcome? I--I, the vain-glorious,--I am
wrapped around her little finger so tightly that all the king's horses
and all the king's men--"
"Halt!" commanded his general softly. "You are turning tail like the
veriest coward. Right about, face! Would you surrender to a slip of a
girl whose only weapons are a pair of innocent blue eyes and a roguish
smile? Be a man! Stand by your guns. Outwardly you are the equal of R.
Schmidt, whose sole--"
"That sounds very well, sir, but how can I take up arms against my
Prince? He stands by _his_ guns--as you may see, sir,--and, dammit all,
I'm no traitor. I've just got to stand by 'em with him. That rot about
all being fair in love and war is the silliest--Oh, well, there's no
use whining about it. I'm mad about her, and so is he. You can't--"
The Count stopped him with a sharp gesture. A look of real concern
appeared in his eyes.
"Do you believe that he is actually in love with this girl?"
"Heels over head," barked the unhappy lieutenant. "I've never seen a
worse case."
"This is serious--more serious than I thought."
"It's horrible," declared Dank, but not thinking of the situation from
the Count's point of view.
"We do not know who or what she is. She may be--"
"I beg your pardon, sir, but we do know what she is," said the other
firmly. "You will not pretend to say that she is not a gentlewoman. She
is cultured, refined--"
"I grant all of that," said the Count. "I am not blind, Dank, But it
seems fairly certain that her name is not Guile. We--"
"Nor is his name Schmidt. That's no argument, sir."
"Still we cannot take the chance, my lad. We must put an end to this
fond adventure. Robin is our most precious possession. We must not--Why
do you shake your head?"
"We are powerless, sir. If he makes up his mind to marry Miss Guile,
he'll do it in spite of anything we can do. That is, provided she is of
the same mind."
"God defend us, I fear you are right," groaned the old Count. "He has
declared himself a hundred times, and he is a wilful lad. I recall the
uselessness of the opposition that was set up against his lamented
mother when she decided to marry Grenfell Lorry. 'Gad, sir, it was like
butting into a stone wall. She said she _would_ and she did. I fear me
that Robin has much of his mother in him."
"Behold in me the first sacrifice," declaimed Dank, lifting his eyes
heavenward.
"Oh, you will recover," was the unsympathetic rejoinder. "It is for him
that I fear, not for you."
"Recover, sir?" in despair. "I fear you misjudge my humble heart--"
"Bosh! Your heart has been through a dozen accidents of this character,
Dank, and it is good for a hundred more. I'll rejoice when this voyage
is ended and we have him safe on his way to Edelweiss."
"That will not make the slightest difference, sir. If he sets his head
to marry her he'll do it if we take him to the North Pole. All
Graustark can't stop him,--nor old man Blithers either. Besides, he
says he isn't going to Edelweiss immediately."
"That is news to me."
"I thought it would be. He came to the decision not more than two hours
ago. He is determined to spend a couple of weeks at Interlaken."
"Interlaken?"
"Yes. Miss Guile expects to stop there for a fortnight after leaving
Paris."
"I must remonstrate with Robin--at once," declared the old man. "He is
needed in Graustark. He must be made to realise the importance of--"
"And what are you going to do if he declines to realise anything but
the importance of a fortnight in the shadow of the Jungfrau?"
"God help me, I don't know, Dank." The Count's brow was moist, and he
looked anything but an unconquerable soldier.
"I told him we were expected to reach home by the end of next week, and
he said that a quiet fortnight in the Alps would make new men of all of
us."
"Do you mean to say he expects me to dawdle--"
"More than that, sir. He also expects me to dawdle too. I shall
probably shoot myself before the two weeks are over."
"I have it! I shall take Mrs. Gaston into my confidence. It is the only
hope, I fear. I shall tell her that he is--"
"No hope there," said Dank mournfully.
"Haven't you noticed how keen she is to have them together all the
time? She's as wily as a fox. Never misses a chance. Hasn't it occurred
to you to wonder why she drags you off on the slightest pretext when
you happen to be in the way? She's done it a hundred times. Always
leaving them alone together. My God, how I despise that woman! Not once
but twenty times a day she finds an excuse to interfere when I am
trying to get in a few words with Miss Guile. She's forever wanting me
to show her the engine-room or the Captain's bridge or the wireless
office or--why, by Jove, sir, it was only yesterday that she asked me
to come and look at the waves. Said she'd found a splendid place to see
them from, just as if the whole damned Atlantic wasn't full of 'em. And
isn't she always looking for porpoises on the opposite side of the
ship? And how many whales and ice-bergs do you think she's been trying
to find in the last five days? No, sir! There's no hope there!"
"'Pon my soul!" was all that the poor Minister of War, an adept in
strategy, was able to exclaim.
The _Jupiter_ disgorged most of her passengers at Cherbourg and the
descent upon Paris had scarcely begun when the good ship steamed away
for Antwerp, Bremen and Hamburg. She was one of the older vessels in
the vast fleet of ships controlled by the American All-Seas and
All-Ports Company, and she called wherever there was a port open to
trans-Atlantic navigation. She was a single factor in the great
monopoly described as the "Billion Dollar Boast." The United States had
been slow to recognise the profits of seas that were free, but when she
did wake up she proceeded to act as if she owned them and all that
therein lay. Her people spoke of the Gulf Stream as "ours"; of the
Banks of Newfoundland as "ours"--or in some instances as "ourn"; of
Liverpool, Hamburg, London, Bremen and other such places as "our
European terminals"; and of the various oceans, seas and navigable
waters as "a part of the system." Where once the Stars and Stripes were
as rare as hummingbirds in Baffin's Bay, the flags were now so thick
that they resembled Fourth of July decorations on Fifth avenue, and it
was almost impossible to cross the Atlantic without dodging a hundred
vessels on which Dixie was being played, coming and going. A man from
New Hampshire declared, after one of his trips over and back, that he
cheered the good old tune so incessantly that his voice failed on the
third day out, both ways, and he had to voice his patriotism with a tin
horn.
Ships of the All-Seas and All-Ports Company fairly stuffed the harbours
of the world. America was awake at last--wide awake!--and the necessity
for prodding her was now limited to the task of putting her to sleep
long enough to allow other nations a chance to scrape together enough
able bodied seamen to man the ships.
William W. Blithers was one of the directors of the All-Seas and
All-Ports Company. He was the first American to awake.
For some unaccountable reason Miss Guile and her companion preferred to
travel alone to Paris. They had a private compartment, over which a
respectful but adamantine conductor exercised an authority that
irritated R. Schmidt beyond expression. The rest of the train was
crowded to its capacity, and here was desirable space going to waste in
the section occupied by the selfish Miss Guile. He couldn't understand
it in her. Was it, after all, to be put down as a simple steamer
encounter? Was she deliberately snubbing him, now that they were on
land? Was he, a prince of the royal blood, to be tossed aside by this
purse-proud American as if he were the simplest of simpletons? And what
did she mean by stationing an officious hireling before her door to
order him away when he undertook to pay her a friendly visit?--to offer
his own and Hobbs' services in case they were needed in Paris. Why
should she lock her confounded door anyway,--and draw the curtains?
There were other whys too numerous to mention, and there wasn't an
answer to a single one of them. The whole proceeding was
incomprehensible.
To begin with, she certainly made no effort to conceal the fact that
she was trying to avoid him from the instant the tender drew alongside
to take off the passengers. As a matter of fact, she seemed to be
making a point of it. And yet, the evening before, she had appeared
rather enchanted with the prospect of seeing him at Interlaken.
It was not until the boat-train was nearing the environs of Paris that
Hobbs threw some light over the situation, with the result that it
instantly became darker than ever before. It appears that Miss Guile
was met at the landing by a very good-looking young man who not only
escorted her to the train but actually entered it with her, and was
even now enjoying the luxury of a private compartment as well as the
contents of a large luncheon hamper, to say nothing of an uninterrupted
view of something far more inspiring than the scenery.
"Frenchman?" inquired Dank listlessly.
"American, I should say, sir," said Hobbs, balancing himself in the
corridor outside the door and sticking his head inside with more
confidence than a traveller usually feels when travelling from
Cherbourg to Paris. "But I wouldn't swear to it, sir. I didn't 'ear a
word he said, being quite some distance away at the time. Happearances
are deceptive, as I've said a great many times. A man may look like an
American and still be almost anything else, see wot I mean? On the
other hand, a man may look like almost nothing and still be American to
his toes. I remember once saying to--"
"That's all right, Hobbs," broke in R. Schmidt sternly. "We also
remember what you said, so don't repeat it. How soon do we get in?"
Hobbs cheerfully looked at his watch. "I couldn't say positive, sir,
but I should think in about fourteen and a 'alf minutes, or maybe a
shade under--between fourteen and fourteen and a 'alf, sir. As I was
saying, he was a most intelligent looking chap, sir, and very 'andsome
of face and figger. Between twenty-four and twenty-five, I dare say.
Light haired, smooth-faced, quite tall and dressed in dark blue with a
cravat, sir, that looked like cerise but may have been--"
"For heaven's sake, Hobbs, let up!" cried Robin, throwing up his hands.
"Yes, sir; certainly, sir. Did I mention that he wears a straw 'at with
a crimson band on it? Well, if I didn't, he does. Hincidentally, they
seemed greatly pleased to see each other. He kissed her hand, and
looked as though he might have gone even farther than that if it 'adn't
been for the crowd--"
"That will do!" said Robin sharply, a sudden flush mounting to his
cheek.
"Very good, sir. Shall I get the bags down for the porters, sir? I beg
pardon, sir,--" to one of the three surly gentlemen who sat facing the
travellers from Graustark,--"my fault entirely. I don't believe it is
damaged, sir. Allow me to--"
"Thank you," growled the stranger. "I can put it on myself," and he
jerked his hat out of Hobbs' hand and set it at a rather forbidding
angle above a lowering brow. "Look what you're doing after this, will
you?"
"Certainly, sir," said Hobbs agreeably. "It's almost impossible to see
without eyes in the back of one's head, don't you know. I 'ope--"
"All right, _all_ right!" snapped the man, glaring balefully. "And let
me tell you something else, my man. Don't go about knocking Americans
without first taking a look. Just bear that in mind, will you?"
"The surest way is to listen," began Hobbs loftily, but, catching a
look from his royal master, desisted. He proceeded to get down the hand
luggage.
At the Gare St. Lazare, Robin had a brief glimpse of Miss Guile as she
hurried with the crowd down to the cab enclosure, where her escort, the
alert young stranger, put her into a waiting limousine, bundled Mrs.
Gaston and Marie in after her, and then dashed away, obviously to see
their luggage through the _douane_.
She espied the tall figure of her fellow voyager near the steps and
leaned forward to wave a perfunctory farewell to him. The car was
creeping out toward the packed thoroughfare. It is possible that she
expected him to dash among the chortling machines, at risk of life or
limb, for a word or two at parting. If so, she was disappointed. He
remained perfectly still, with uplifted hat, a faint smile on his lips
and not the slightest sign of annoyance in his face. She smiled
securely to herself as she leaned back in the seat, and was satisfied!
Curiosity set its demand upon her an instant later, however, and she
peered slyly through the little window in the back. He lifted his hat
once more and she flushed to her throat as she quickly drew back into
the corner. How in the world could he have seen her through that
abominable slit in the limousine? And why was he now grinning so
broadly?
Count Quinnox found him standing there a few minutes later, twirling
his stick and smiling with his eyes. Accompanying the old soldier was a
slight, sharp-featured man with keen black eyes and a thin, pointed
moustache of grey.
This man was Gourou, Chief of Police and Commander of the Tower in
Edelweiss, successor to the celebrated Baron Dangloss. After he had
greeted his prince, the quiet little man announced that he had reserved
for him an apartment at the Bristol.
"I am instructed by the Prime Minister, your highness, to urge your
immediate return to Edelweiss," he went on, lowering his voice. "The
people are disturbed by the reports that have reached us during the
past week or two, and Baron Romano is convinced that nothing will serve
to subdue the feeling of uneasiness that prevails except your own
declaration--in person--that these reports arc untrue."
"I shall telegraph at once to Baron Romano that it is all poppy-cock,"
said Robin easily. "I refer, of course, to the reported engagement. I
am not going to marry Miss Blithers and that's all there is to be said.
You may see to it, baron, that a statement is issued to all of the
Paris newspapers to-day, and to the correspondents for all the great
papers in Europe and America. I have prepared this statement, under my
own signature, and it is to be the last word in the matter. It is in my
pocket at this instant. You shall have it when we reach the hotel--And
that reminds me of another thing. I'm sorry that I shall have to ask
you to countermand the reservation for rooms at the hotel you mention.
I have already reserved rooms at the Ritz,--by wireless. We shall stop
there. Where is Dank?"
"The Ritz is hardly the place for--"
But Robin clapped him on the back and favoured him with the
good-natured, boyish smile that mastered even the fiercest of his
counsellors, and the Minister of Police, being an astute man, heaved a
deep sigh of resignation.
"Dank is looking after the trunks, highness, and Hobbs is coming along
with the hand luggage," he said. "The Ritz, you say? Then I shall have
to instruct Lieutenant Dank to send the luggage there instead of to the
Bristol. Pardon, your highness." He was off like a flash.
Count Quinnox was gnawing his moustache. "See here, Robin," he said,
laying his hand on the young man's shoulder, "you are in Paris now and
not on board a ship at sea. Miss Guile is a beautiful, charming, highly
estimable young woman, and, I might as well say it straight out to your
face, you ought not to subject her to the notoriety that is bound to
follow if the newspapers learn that she is playing around Paris, no
matter how innocently, with a prince whom--"
"Just a moment, Count," interrupted Robin, a cold light in his now
unsmiling eyes. "You are getting a little ahead of the game. Miss Guile
is not going to the Ritz, nor do I expect her to play around Paris with
me. As a matter of fact, she refused to tell me where she is to stop
while here, and I am uncomfortably certain that I shall not see her
unless by chance. On the other hand, I may as well be perfectly frank
with you and say it straight out to _your_ face that I am going to try
to find her if possible, but I am not mean enough to employ the methods
common to such enterprises. I could have followed her car in another
when she left here a few minutes ago; I could manage in a dozen ways to
run her to earth, as the detectives do in the books, but I'd be ashamed
to look her in the face if I did any of these things. I shall take a
gentleman's chance, my dear Count, and trust to luck and the generosity
of fate. You may be sure that I shall not annoy Miss Guile, and you may
be equally sure that she--"
"I beg your pardon, Robin, but I did not employ the word annoy,"
protested the Count.
"--that she takes me for a gentleman if not for a prince," went on
Robin, deliberately completing the sentence before he smiled his
forgiveness upon the old man. "I selected the Ritz because all rich
Americans go there, I'm told. I'm taking a chance."
Quinnox had an obstinate strain in his make-up. He continued: "There is
another side to the case, my boy. As a gentleman, you cannot allow this
lovely girl to--er--well, to fall in love with you. That would be
cruel, wantonly cruel. And it is just the thing that is bound to happen
if you go on with--"
"My dear Count, you forget that I am only R. Schmidt to her and but one
of perhaps a hundred young men who have placed her in the same perilous
position. Moreover, it's the other way 'round, sir. It is I who take
the risk, not Miss Guile. I regret to say, sir, that if there is to be
any falling in love, I am the one who is most likely to fall, and to
fall hard. You assume that Miss Guile is heart-whole and fancy free.
'Gad, I wish that I could be sure of it!" He spoke with such fervour
that the Count was indeed dismayed.
"Robin, my lad, I beg of you to consider the consequences that--"
"There's no use discussing it, old friend. Trust to luck. There is a
bully good chance that she will send me about my business when the time
comes and then the salvation of Graustark will be assured." He said it
lightly but there was a dark look in his eyes that belied the jaunty
words.
"Am I to understand that you intend to--to ask her to marry you?"
demanded the Count, profoundly troubled. "Remember, boy, that you are
the Prince of Graustark, that you--"
"But I'm not going to ask her to marry the Prince of Graustark. I'm
going to ask her to marry R. Schmidt," said Robin composedly.
"God defend us, Robin, I--I--"
"God has all he can do to defend us from William W. Blithers, Count.
Don't ask too much of him. What kind of a nation are we if we can't get
along without asking God to defend us every time we see trouble ahead?
And do you suppose he is going to defend us against a slip of a girl--"
"Enough! Enough!" cried the Count, compressing his lips and glaring
straight ahead.
"That's the way to talk," cried Robin enthusiastically. "By the way, I
hope Dank is clever enough to find out who that young fellow is while
they are clearing the luggage in there. I had a good look at him just
now. He is all that Hobbs describes and a little more. He is a hustler."