COVERDALE'S REPORT
In the afternoon I rode over to the Grange to learn if there was any
news and to see how Fitz was bearing up. He was certainly doing
uncommonly well. His face was less haggard, his eyes were not so wild,
while a change of linen and a razor had helped his appearance
considerably.
Coverdale had telegraphed to say that the car had been traced to a
garage in Regent Street, and that before long he hoped to be in
possession of further information.
Fitz seemed to regard the finding of the car as a favourable omen. At
least his emotions were under far better control than on the previous
day. His manner was no longer overwrought, and he was able to take a
more practical view of the situation.
He promised to keep me informed of any fresh development, and I left
him without misgiving. He seemed much more fit to cope with events
than when I had left him the night before.
It was in the afternoon of the following day that I saw Fitz again. It
happened that I was just about to set out from my own door when he
drove up in a dogcart. He was accompanied by Coverdale.
Fitz has a curiously mobile countenance. It is quick to advertise the
fleeting emotions of its owner. This afternoon there was a light in
his eye and a look of resolution and alertness about him which said
that news had come, and that, whatever its nature, Nevil Fitzwaren was
not prepared to submit tamely to fate.
"I was on the point of coming to see you," I explained as I led them in.
The presence of Coverdale seemed to indicate an important development.
It would have been difficult, however, to deduce so much from the
bearing of the Chief Constable. He is such a discreet and sagacious
individual, that no amount of special information is capable of
detracting from or adding to his habitual air of composed importance.
My visitors were supplied with a little sustenance in a liquid form
before I asked for the news; and then in answer to my demand Fitz
called upon Coverdale to put me _au fait_ with the latest information.
It appeared that Coverdale had hastened to take Scotland Yard into his
confidence, and that that famous organisation had been able in a
surprisingly short space of time to shed a light upon the mysterious
disappearance of Mrs. Fitz.
"She has been traced to the Illyrian Embassy in Portland Place," said
Coverdale.
"Indeed!" said I. "In that case we can congratulate you, Fitz, that
she is likely to come by no harm in that dignified seclusion."
"Yes, that aspect of the affair is decidedly favourable," said
Coverdale. "But as far as the Commissioner is able to learn, the lady
is to all intents and purposes being held a close prisoner."
"A very singular state of things, surely."
"Decidedly singular. But there can be no doubt that the Illyrian
Ambassador is acting upon strict instructions from his Sovereign."
"He must be a pretty cool hand, to kidnap the wife of an Englishman in
this country in the broad light of day, and the monarch for whom he
acts strikes one also as being a pretty cool customer."
Coverdale laughed. He knocked the ash off the end of his cigar with an
air of reflective enjoyment.
"Kings are kings in Illyria," said he. "Saving the presence of the
son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth, his Majesty is no believer in this
damned constitutional nonsense. He has his own ideas and his own
little way of carrying them out."
"He has, apparently. But unfortunately for Ferdinand the Twelfth and
fortunately for his son-in-law, Fitz, we in this country are rather
decided believers in this damned constitutional nonsense. I daresay,
Coverdale, your friend the Commissioner will be able to put his
Illyrian Majesty right upon the point."
The stealthy air of enjoyment that was hovering about Coverdale's
rubicund visage seemed to deepen.
"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he said, with a cheerful puff, "but it
seems it is not quite so easy as you'd suppose."
I confessed to surprise.
"You see, Arbuthnot, even in a country like ours, kings are entitled to
a measure of respect. The reigning family of Illyria--under the favour
of our distinguished friend"--the Chief Constable bowed to Fitz with a
solemn unction that to my mind was indescribably comic--"has ties of
blood with nearly all the royal houses of Europe; the Illyrian Embassy
is by no means a negligible quantity at the Court of Saint James, for
if Illyria is not very large it is devilish well connected; and again,
as the Commissioner assures me, an embassy is sacred earth which lies
outside his jurisdiction."
"He seems to have come up against rather a tough proposition."
"He is the first to admit it. Here we have a flagrant outrage
committed upon the personal property of a law-abiding Englishman, under
his own vine and fig-tree, in his own little county; the perpetrators
of the outrage sit unconcerned in Portland Place; yet there seems to be
no machinery in this admirably governed and highly constitutional
island which can redress this flagrant hardship."
"But surely, Coverdale, a way can be found?"
"The Commissioner declined point-blank to undertake anything on his own
responsibility. Accordingly we went to the Foreign Office and had an
interview with an Official. The Official didn't seem to know what the
practice of the Office was in such cases, for the simple reason that it
was the first time that the Office appeared to have acquired any
practice in them. But upon one point he was perfectly clear. It was
that the Commissioner would do well to return without delay to his
fingermarks and his photographs of notorious criminals, and contrive to
forget that "L'Affaire Fitz" had been brought to his notice."
"But that is absurd."
"That is how the matter stands at all events," said Coverdale with an
air of detachment.
"Did the Official confer with the Minister?"
"Yes; and the Minister conferred with the Official; and their joint
wisdom amounted to this: if a British subject indulges in the luxury of
a Ferdinand the Twelfth for a father-in-law, he must refer to God any
little differences that may arise between them, because the law of
England does not contemplate and declines to take cognisance of these
domesticities."
"It is incredible!"
"I agree with you, Arbuthnot; and yet if you look at the matter in all
its bearings, it is difficult to see what other conclusion could have
been arrived at. The whole affair bristles with difficulties. There
is no specific evidence that the Crown Princess of Illyria is actually
in need of aid. Although many of the details of her flight from
Blaenau five years ago are known to the Foreign Office, it is in
complete ignorance of the fact that she was in residence in this
country. And again, the whole thing is far too delicate to risk a fall
with the Illyrian Ambassador."
"Certainly the national horror of looking foolish appears to justify
the F.O. in the _rôle_ of Agag. But in my humble judgment its masterly
inactivity is desperately hard on a British subject."
"Well," said Coverdale, having recourse to the plain man's philosophy,
"if a British subject will indulge in a Ferdinand the Twelfth for a
father-in-law!"
During our extremely piquant discussion--to me it was certainly that,
however tame and flat it may appear in the bald prose in which it is
now invested--the person most affected by it was a study in sombre
self-repression. He spoke not a word, he hardly indulged in a gesture;
yet his whole bearing had significance. And when at last the time came
for him to speak, he used a quiet deliberation as though every word had
been sought out and weighed beforehand.
"There is only one thing to be done," he said. "As the law won't help
me, I must help the law."
Not only in its substance, but also in the manner of its delivery, such
an announcement was entirely worthy of the son-in-law of Ferdinand the
Twelfth.
I saw the rather amused uplift of Coverdale's eyebrows, but knowing the
unusual calibre of the speaker, I felt instinctively that at this stage
a display of scepticism would be out of place. Fitz was quite capable
of helping the law of England, if he really felt that it required his
assistance.
"I can't thank you, Coverdale," he said simply. "You have done for me
what I can't repay. This applies to you also, Arbuthnot. I shall
never forget what you've done for me. But now I am going to ask you
both as fellow Englishmen, with wives and children of your own, to
stand by me while I try to get fair play."
Such words affected us both.
"You can certainly count upon me for what I may be worth," said I, "but
frankly, my dear fellow, I fail to see what you can do in face of the
Foreign Office decree."
"I shall play Ferdinand at his own game and beat him at it as I've done
before to-day."
It was a vaunt that Fitz was entitled to make. The elopement from
Blaenau must have been the work of a bold and resourceful man.
"Of one thing I am convinced," Fitz proceeded: "there is not an hour to
lose. My wife may be taken back to Blaenau at any moment. I am
confident that von Arlenberg, the Ambassador, has orders from
Ferdinand. If I am to save the life of Sonia, I must act without
delay."
Coverdale nodded his head in silence, while I felt a pang of dismay.
The argument was clear enough, but Fitz's impotence in the presence of
events made him a figure for pity.
His demeanour, however, betrayed no consciousness of this. In those
strange eyes there was purpose, and something had entered his voice.
"I want half a dozen good fellows--sportsmen--to stand by me. You are
one, Arbuthnot. You too, Coverdale. You will stand by me, eh?"
The Chief Constable looked a little uneasy. To the official mind such
a request was decidedly ambiguous, not to say uncomfortable.
"I should be glad, Fitzwaren," said he, "if you will tell me precisely
what responsibilities I shall incur if I pledge myself to this course."
"It depends on circumstances," said Fitz. "But if I find my back to
the wall, as I daresay I shall before I am through with this business,
I should like to have at my elbow a few men I can trust."
"So long as you don't depute me to throw a bomb into the Embassy!" said
Coverdale.
Fitz's scheme for the recovery of his lawful property was not so
drastic as that, yet when it came to be unfolded it was somewhat of a
nature to give pause to a pair of Englishmen converging upon middle
age, pledged especially to observe the law.
"I intend to have her out of Portland Place. She must come away
to-morrow. There is not an hour to lose. But I must find a few pals
who are good at need, because it won't be child's play, you know."
"It certainly won't be child's play," agreed the Chief Constable, "if
it is your intention to break into the Illyrian Embassy and seize the
Crown Princess by force."
"There is no help for it," said Fitz, quietly.
Coverdale grew thoughtful. It was tolerably clear that Fitz was
contemplating an act of open violence; and as a breach of the peace
must at all times be construed as a breach of the law, it was scarcely
for him to aid and abet him. At heart, nevertheless, the worthy Chief
Constable was a downright honest, four-square, genuine fellow. He did
not say as much, but there was something in his manner which implied
that he had come to the conclusion that those repositories of justice,
national and international, Scotland Yard and the Foreign Office, were
conniving at a frank injustice to a fellow Briton.
"It is a hard case," said Coverdale; "and in the circumstances I don't
altogether see how you can be blamed if you take reasonable steps to
recover your property."
"In other words, Coverdale," said I, "you are prepared to countenance
the raid on the Illyrian Embassy?"
The Chief Constable laughed.
"I don't say that exactly. And yet, after all, this is a free country;
and if a parcel of damned foreigners bagged my wife, and the law could
afford me no redress, I'm afraid, I'm sadly afraid----"
"It would be 'Up Guards and at 'em'?"
"Upon my word, Arbuthnot, I'm not sure it wouldn't!"
"Thank you, Coverdale," said Fitz. "And I take it that both of you
will go up to London with me to-morrow."
"What do you ask us precisely to do?"
"Leave the details to me"--Fitz's air was that of a staff officer.
"You can trust me not to go out of my way to look for trouble. But it
is not much use for one man single-handed to attempt to force his way
into the Illyrian Embassy for the purpose of effecting the rescue of
the Crown Princess."
"It would be suicidal for one man to attempt it," we agreed.
"What is the minimum of assistance you will require?" said I.
"Half a dozen stout fellows ought to be able to manage it comfortably.
There's Coverdale and you and me. If I can enlist three others between
now and to-morrow, the thing is as good as done."
Fitz's calm tone of optimism was certainly surprising. The Chief
Constable and myself exchanged rather rueful glances. We appeared to
have pledged ourselves to a course of action that might have the most
serious and far-reaching consequences.