THE WRITING ON THE WALL
The morning which followed these tempered gaieties was cold and bright.
The King borrowed my nicest gun and, accompanied by his son-in-law, our
retainer Andrew, and an old field spaniel who answered to the name of
Gyp, proceeded to put up a hare or two in the stubble. My physical
state precluded my raising a gun to my shoulder, but I deemed it wise
to be of the party. Accidents have been known to occur, and--but
perhaps it is well not to pursue this vein of speculation.
Destiny is a vague term which provides the veil of decency for many
secrets, and firearms have often been the chosen instruments of its
decrees. Doubtless I was growing too imaginative. Certainly the
adventures I had undergone during the past few weeks had left a mark
upon my nerves, but when I recalled our vigil, which was still so fresh
in my thoughts as to seem strange and terrible, I could not view the
prospect of Ferdinand the Twelfth and his dutiful son-in-law sharing
the innocent pastime of a little rough shooting without a secret fear.
I am glad to say that the course of the morning's sport lent no colour
to this apprehension. The King was an excellent shot, and even a
strange gun made little difference to his prowess. He displayed both
science and accuracy. But to see him standing cheek by jowl with Fitz,
each with a cocked weapon in his hand; to watch them scramble through
gaps and over stiles and five-barred gates, for in spite of his years
and his physique Ferdinand was a wonderfully active man who took an
almost boyish pride in his bodily condition, was to feel that the life
of either was hanging by a thread.
However, as I have said, all this was the unworthy fruit of an
overwrought imagination. The sportsmen returned to luncheon safe and
sound, with a modest bag of the fowls of the air and the beasts of the
field.
In the afternoon, at the instance of Mrs. Arbuthnot, whose happy
thought it was, we all motored over to inspect the Castle. The Family
was understood to be in Egypt, and the ducal stronghold is the show
place of the district.
The rumour as to the Family's whereabouts proved to be correct, and a
profitable hour was spent in the casual study of magnificence. The
King took a genuine interest in all that he saw. In particular he was
charmed with the view from the terrace, which is modelled upon
Versailles, with a long and far-spreading vista of oaks and beeches and
a herd of deer in the foreground.
He expressed a keen appreciation of the Duke's collection of works of
art; yet he permitted himself to wonder that a private individual
should have such pictures, such tapestries, such furniture, such
porcelain, such armour, such metal work, such carpets, such painted
ceilings and heaven knows what besides.
"It is pretty well for a subject," said Ferdinand the Twelfth.
"His Grace of Dumbarton, sir," said I, "owns four other places in these
islands on a similar scale of magnificence; he owns a million and a
quarter acres, of which a portion is in great centres of industry, his
income is rather more than £500,000 a year, and he is accustomed in his
public utterances to describe himself as a member of a poor but
deserving class."
Ferdinand the Twelfth pondered a moment with an amused yet wary smile.
"If he lived in Illyria," he said, "I think his grace would have to be
content with less, eh, Schalk?"
"It would not surprise me, sir," said the Chancellor, with an
expressive shrug. "I confess it does not appear economically sound for
a State to allow its private citizens to accumulate such quantities of
treasure. Whatever the measure of their public capacity I fail to see
how they can rise to their responsibilities."
"But if," said I, "the State mulcts his grace of a farthing's-worth, it
is immediately denounced as a robber. Property is the most sacred
thing we know in this country."
"His grace came by all this honestly, I hope?" said the King, with an
amused air.
"He came by it under forms of law, certainly."
"Which he himself did not make, I hope!" said the King, laughing.
"No, sir; his grandfather and the nominees of his grandfather and so on
managed that little business. Quite a constitutional proceeding, of
course."
"I appreciate that," said Ferdinand the Twelfth, with his subtle smile.
"The British Constitution has long been the envy of nations. I suppose
our friend the Duke is a man of great public spirit who has rendered
signal service to the British Empire."
"On the contrary, he prefers the pleasant obscurity of the English
gentleman."
"His forbears, then?"
"The late Duke was an imbecile; and I am afraid if anyone took the
trouble to search the records of the family since it came to this
country from Germany about the year 1700, there is only one episode
involving signal public spirit recorded in its archives."
"A glorious victory, a Blenheim, a Waterloo, I presume?" said Ferdinand
the Twelfth.
"No, sir; peace has her victories also. This distinguished family has
won the Derby Horse Race on two occasions."
"A wonderful people, Schalk!" said the King, laughing.
Her Royal Highness clapped her hands impulsively in the face of Mrs.
Arbuthnot.
"There, Irene, what did I say!" she exclaimed. "Perrault!--wherever
you go in this little island you find Perrault. My father has now
found Perrault. Even Schalk has found him."
"Sonia dear, you are too funny!" said Mrs. Arbuthnot, 'with a
plaintively childlike air of tacit condescension.
The King informed his grace's steward, a gentleman with a bald head and
a very conventional aspect, who awaited us in the entrance hall to see
us safely off the premises, that he would like to write his name in the
visitors' book. Unaware of the identity of Ferdinand the Twelfth and
by no means approving of the general trend of our conversation, the
steward said with cold politeness that he feared the visitors' book was
only used by his grace's guests.
The King took up a piece of red pencil that lay on a writing-table.
"We will write on the wall," he said, blandly.
The steward was shocked and scandalised, but no heed was paid to his
protests. The King wrote his name on the wall in bold and firm English
characters, immediately beneath Lely's portrait of the founder of the
family.
This accomplished, the King gave the pencil to his daughter, who
inscribed her name also. She in turn gave it to the Chancellor, who
followed her example. He then gave the pencil to Mrs. Arbuthnot.
That lady coloured with embarrassment, but at the King's express desire
she wrote her name too; and when it came to the turn of the
Conservative member for that part of the county he had no alternative
but to obey the royal command.
Our names duly appeared on the wall in the following order:
_Ferdinand Rex
Sonia
Von Schalk
Irene Arbuthnot
Nevil Fitzwaren
Odo Arbuthnot, M.P._
Upon the completion of this act of vandalism, the Victor of Rodova
turned to the steward.
"Haf the goodness to inform his grace," he said, "that the King of
Illyria accepts entire responsibility for the writing on the wall. It
is the writing on the wall for him and for his country."
As we went towards the motor cars which awaited us at a side entrance,
we had to pass down a flight of stone steps. In the descent the King
was seized with a sudden and momentary faintness. He reeled, and had
it not been for the promptitude of the ever-watchful Chancellor he must
have fallen.
"Dat is the writing on the wall for the people of Illyria," said the
Victor of Rodova with humorous stoicism as he recovered himself.