“I understand enough. You say you are my father. I think I ought to
know my father. I--I do not mind knowing you. But this--it is absurd
and insulting. I will not hear any more about it. This gentleman--I
know nothing about him.” She surveyed Spoleto with disdain. “I do not
wish to make his acquaintance.”
“Thank you very much,” Spoleto cried.
“Hilda! Be pleased to remember that you are now to do your duty as my
daughter. I do not permit disobedience.”
“It’s no use to talk so,” said Miss Crowland. “I am not a baby.”
His Highness, whose grey hair was becoming dishevelled, made a
violent gesture. “English! She is as English as her mother.”
“Oh. If you are going to say things against my mother I will go,”
said Miss Crowland. “You came from my mother, sir. I should like to
speak to you.”
Reggie bowed and opened the door for her. As they went out he heard
Spoleto say in French, “Do you see, my uncle, this does not do,” and
then a storm. The house of Ragusa was divided against itself in
throes.
On deck, Miss Crowland seemed to have some difficulty in making up
her mind what to say. “Does my mother know about this?” she broke out
at last.
“That’s between you and your conscience, isn’t it?” Reggie smiled.
“I haven’t told her anything, but she has never told me anything,”
Miss Crowland said fiercely. “How did she come to send you here?”
“Some rather odd things happened at school, you know.”
“Did they?” said Miss Crowland, in delighted amazement. “What things?”
“I wonder if you know who little Alice Warenne really is? She is an
actress from the Theatre des Variétés in Paris.” Miss Crowland
laughed. “She was employed to get a photograph of you, to find out
all about you, to arrange for you to be kidnapped like this, and to
persuade you to come aboard.”
“Monsieur is a detective!” Alice slid up between them. “Oh, but a
very great detective.”
“I knew all that. Except that she is an actress.” Miss Crowland
turned to her. “Are you an actress?”
“Darling!” Alice laughed all over her baby face. “That is the
prettiest compliment, is it not, M. the detective?”
“If you think she has cheated me, she has not. She told me that the
Prince of Ragusa said he was my father, and that he wanted me to come
on his yacht. My mother never would tell me anything about my father.
I didn’t think that was fair. So I came. And now, Mr.--Mr. Fortune,
what will my mother do?”
“What shall we all do?” Reggie laughed. “You’re in a hole and your
mother’s in a hole, and the Prince of Ragusa is in the deepest hole
of the three.”
“Excepting always M. the detective,” Alice laughed. “Look,
monsieur--the beautiful England--she vanishes! Adieu, the respectable
country and the nice policemen!”
“Do you imagine you are here to look after me?” said Miss Crowland
fiercely.
“Think of me as a mother,” said Reggie, and she went away in a rage.
“Well, monsieur?” Alice laughed at him. “You are making friends
everywhere. You are content?”
“If I had a razor and a clean shirt,” Reggie said.
“Alas, monsieur, I have none. I do not play--how do you call
them?--principal boys. Bon voyage, monsieur.” She tripped away.
It was made clear to Reggie that he was not going to be popular on
board. The retinue of the Prince avoided him emphatically. The royal
family remained below. He was taken to a cabin, and there dinner was
served him.
“And not a bad dinner either,” said Reggie, as he went on deck again.
It was dark and a moonless night. The yacht was meeting a southerly
breeze and the first of the ocean swell and grew lively. Reggie had
the deck to himself. He was nearly at the end of his cigar before any
one disturbed his humorous meditations.
“Mr. Fortune? You amuse yourself?” It was the Comte de Spoleto.
“I can smile.”
“In effect, my friend, we are ridiculous. My uncle he is a dreamer--a
student. He sees a thing in his mind, it is logical, it is to his
desire, and he conceives it done. He has been like that always. A
temperament! He is not a man of the world.”
“I guessed that,” Reggie murmured.
“But what to do? The situation is impossible, my friend. Conceive my
feelings. This young girl--she is fresh, she is superb as a morning
in the mountains--and by me she is exposed to this humiliation. And
I--whatever I do, I am ludicrous. I beg of you, my friend, believe
that I feel it. Imagine my position.”
“Imagine mine. You might lend me a razor. But hardly a tooth-brush.”
“He will not touch land before Spain. Oh, yes, he is capable of it,
my friend. But this young girl----”
“Did you bring a tooth-brush for her?”
“There is everything for her. Maids, clothes. Oh, he has thought of
everything, my uncle. He calls it her trousseau. What a man!”
“Better mutiny. Seize the yacht. Can you navigate? I can’t. That was
always the trouble in the pirate stories.”
“Mutiny? They would all die for him. Oh, you are laughing at me. _Mon
Dieu!_ my friend, this is very serious. I beg of you, confide in me.
You must have some plan. I promise you, I desire nothing better than
to restore mademoiselle to her mother. I----”
“Spoleto!”
They turned. The Prince of Ragusa stood at the head of the companion.
“My dear uncle----”
“Spoleto! You are a traitor. You----”
“That is not true!”
“You plot against me with this fellow. It is incredible. It is
villainous. It is treachery.”
“Sir, I will take that from no man.”
“Yes, you will take it. You will----” It seemed to Reggie that His
Highness was about to box his nephew’s ears. Reggie let himself go as
the yacht pitched. They all jostled together. His Highness vanished
down the companion with a crash.
“Now you’ve done it,” said Reggie.
Spoleto exclaimed, peered at the body lying below, showed Reggie a
white face, and hurried down. Reggie followed slowly.
His Highness was already surrounded by servants and his suite.
“When you have all finished, I’ll tell you where he’s hurt,” said
Reggie incisively.
“Ah, yes, you are a surgeon,” Spoleto cried. “Stand aside, stand
aside. The gentleman is a surgeon. Tell me, is he dead?” His Highness
had begun to groan.
“Don’t be futile,” said Reggie, and knelt and began to straighten out
the heap. The process caused His Highness anguish. “Yes. He can’t
walk. We must get him to bed to examine him.”
It was an elaborate process and punctuated with lamentations . . .
when at last His Highness lay stripped in bed and groaning faintly,
“My aunt, what a patient!” Reggie grimaced to himself.
“I think I am everywhere a bruise, Mr. Fortune,” the Prince groaned.
“That scoundrel Spoleto!”
“That won’t do, sir. I’m sure he meant nothing,” said Reggie, with
admirable magnanimity. “The--the yacht pitched. Now about the elbow.”
He began handling it skilfully.
“Ah! Yes. Yes, it is certainly the elbow that is most painful. But my
knee also gives me great pain. And my head aches violently.”
“The knee. Yes. The knee is badly bruised. There may be---- Ah, well,
I can make you more comfortable for the time, sir. But it is my duty
to tell you frankly I am anxious about the arm. I must have that
elbow X-rayed at once. I am afraid there’s a fracture. A small
operation may be necessary. Just a screw in, you know.”
“A screw in my elbow!” the Prince screamed.
“I suppose you don’t wish to lose your arm,” Reggie said sternly.
“Lose my right arm! Good God, Mr. Fortune! You don’t mean----”
“I mean that I must have an X-ray of your elbow immediately and
surgical resources at my disposal or I won’t answer for the
consequences. The yacht must make for harbour at once.”
“Am I in danger, Mr. Fortune?”
“I hope to save your arm if you give me the chance.”
“I am in your hands, Mr. Fortune,” said the Prince feebly. “Oh! If
you could do something to stop this neuralgic pain in my arm----”
In fact, Reggie had a difficult time with him, which you may think
was only fair. It was very late before His Highness (who took a
morbid interest in his limbs) could be got to sleep; very late--or
early--before Reggie went to bed, but all the while the _Giulia_ was
steaming back to Tormouth, and when Reggie came on deck again “pink
and beautiful”, as he remarked to his mirror, thanks to a razor and
linen of Spoleto’s, the brown Tormouth headlands loomed through the
morning haze.
Already upon deck were Spoleto and Hilda, walking together,
negotiating, as it appeared, a defensive alliance.
“This is very gratifyin’,” said Reggie.
“How is my uncle, Mr. Fortune?” said Spoleto.
“Still asleep, thank Heaven.”
“He is not in any danger?” said Hilda.
“Well, you know, he’s so anxious about himself.”
“I should never forgive myself if anything happened!” Spoleto cried.
“Oh, I should, you know, I should,” Reggie murmured thoughtfully.
They did not attend to him.
“But you are not to blame.” Hilda was interested in Spoleto. “You are
not to blame for anything.”
“You say that!” Spoleto cried. “Thank you, my cousin,” and he kissed
her hand.
“Oh, but you are absurd,” said Hilda, and flushed faintly and turned
away.
Spoleto made a gesture of despair. “Quite, quite,” Reggie said. “So
we’d better have breakfast.” During that meal he might have heard, if
he had listened, the full history of the emotions of the Comte de
Spoleto. He escaped from them to visit his patient.
The Prince was much cheered by a night of sleep, still excessively
interested in his injuries, but now hopeful about them. He gave great
honour to Reggie’s treatment of the case. “My dear sir, I must
consider it providential that you were on board. Oh, but certainly
providential.”
“Well, sir, the affair might have taken a different turn without me,”
Reggie admitted modestly.
“Indeed, yes,” said His Highness. “Good God, Mr. Fortune, and how I
resented your appearance yesterday!” He became thoughtful. “I think
what annoyed me most was that any one should have discovered my
plans.” He gazed at Reggie. “Are you free to tell me, Mr. Fortune? I
am much interested to know what brought you here. Did Hilda say
anything to her mother? Or is there a traitor in my camp?
Spoleto--that little actress?”
“Here’s the traitor, sir.” Reggie took out of his pocket the
Hottentot Venus.
“Good heavens!” The Prince took her affectionately. “My new
palæolithic Venus.”
“You left her in the library at the Tormouth school. There are not
many men in the world who have a Hottentot Venus to lose. So she
suggested to me that the Prince of Ragusa was taking action with
regard to Hilda Crowland.”
“You have a great deal of acumen, Mr. Fortune,” said the Prince, and
the sound of the cable broke off the conversation.
There is a hospital at Tormouth. The Comte de Spoleto went on shore
to bring off its X-ray man. Reggie stretched himself in a deck chair
to wait events.
They were not long in arriving. A shore boat brought off the Hon.
Stanley Lomas, dapper as ever, and a woman whom Reggie identified by
her hair and her magnificent figure as the mother of Hilda--Mrs.
Crowland--the Princess of Ragusa. Reggie went down the gangway to
meet them.
Lomas sprang out of the boat. The Princess was handed out and went up
the gangway. “Good God, Fortune!” Lomas shook hands. “You’re a
wonder! How did you bring them back?”
“Genius--just genius.”
The Princess had met her daughter who was not abashed. “Hilda! Why do
you do this extraordinary thing?”
And Hilda said quietly, “I wanted to know my father.”
“You make us all ridiculous,” the Princess cried.
“I don’t feel that.” Hilda put up her chin.
“May I present Mr. Fortune, ma’am?” Lomas put in.
Reggie bowed. “I am sorry to tell you, madame, that the Prince has
had an accident. A fall down the companion. He is in bed. I am
waiting for an X-ray to be taken of his arm. But I assure you there
is no cause for alarm.”
“I am not alarmed,” said the Princess. “I wish to see him.”
“Certainly. You will not forget that I have told him I represent you.”
“It was an impertinence, Mr. Fortune,” said the Princess, and swept
to the companion. The door of the Prince’s cabin was shut on her.
“Jam for the Prince.” Reggie made a grimace at Lomas.
“Strictly speaking, what’s my _locus standi?_” said the Chief of the
Criminal Investigation Department.
“Don’t funk, Lomas. I dare say she’ll murder him. That’s where you
come in.”
So they were depressed till the return of the anxious Spoleto with
his X-ray man. Reggie descended upon the Prince and Princess. She was
sitting upon his bed. She was smiling. She kissed her hand to His
Highness as she went out.
All which Reggie observed with a face of stone.
“I am infinitely your debtor, Mr. Fortune,” His Highness beamed. “You
are not married, no?”
“It becomes every day less probable,” said Reggie grimly.
“One never knows the beauty of a woman’s nature till one is
suffering,” said His Highness.
The X-rays were put to work on the arm, and the operator and Reggie
went off to the yacht’s dark room. As the plate came out, “I see no
injury, Mr. Fortune,” the operator complained.
“Fancy that,” said Reggie.
Outside the dark room the Princess was impatiently waiting. “Well,
Mr. Fortune?”
“Well, madame, there will be no need of an operation.”
The Princess frowned at him. “I suppose I am much obliged to you, Mr.
Fortune. I wish to hear more of your part in the affair.”
Reggie, he has confessed, trembled. The Princess swept on. She opened
the door of the music-room. She revealed Hilda and Spoleto. Hilda was
being vehemently kissed.
Reggie fled. Professional instinct, he explains, took him back to his
patient. “I am very pleased to tell you, sir, that there is no
serious injury to the arm. Rest and good nursing are all that is now
needed.”
His Highness laughed like a boy and began to chatter--all about
himself.
Reggie broke in at the first chance. “It is a satisfaction to me that
I leave you in such good spirits, sir.”
His Highness overflowed with gratitude. He did not know how to thank
Mr. Fortune--what to offer him.
“If I might have this little lady, sir.” Reggie took up the Hottentot
Venus. “It would be a pleasant memento of an interesting adventure.”
And so he went off with the Hottentot Venus in his pocket. He hurried
on deck to the uneasy Lomas. “You were right, Lomas. You are always
right. We have no _locus standi_. And where’s that shore boat?” They
embarked hurriedly and rowed away from the royal house of Ragusa. “In
heaven,” said Reggie, “there is neither marrying nor giving in
marriage. That’s why I’m going there. Look at her”--he produced the
Hottentot Venus--“she’s the only sensible woman I ever knew. Lomas,
my dear old man, do you know you will have to explain all this to
your sister?”
The Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department groaned aloud.
CASE VI
THE BUSINESS MINISTER
PHASE I.--THE SCANDAL
“‘Oh, to be in England now that April’s here,’” said Reggie Fortune
as, trying to hide himself in his coat, he slipped and slid down the
gangway to his native land. The Boulogne boat behind him, lost in
driving snow, could be inferred from escaping steam and the glimmer
of a rosette of lights. “The Flying Dutchman’s new packet,” Reggie
muttered, and hummed the helmsman’s song from the opera, till a
squall coming round the corner stung what of his face he could not
bury like small shot.
He continued to suffer. The heat in the Pullman was tinned. He did
not like the toast. The train ran slow, and whenever he wiped the
steamy window he saw white-blanketed country and fresh swirls of
snow. So he came into Victoria some seven hours late, and it had no
taxi. He said what he could. You imagine him, balanced by the two
suit-cases which he could not bear to part with, wading through deep
snow from the Tube station at Oxford Circus to Wimpole Street, and
subsiding limp but still fluent into the arms of Sam his factotum.
And the snow went on falling.
It was about this time, in his judgment 11 p.m. on 15th April, that a
man fell from the top story of Montmorency House, the hugest and
newest of the new blocks of flats thereabouts. He fell down the well
which lights the inner rooms and, I suppose, made something of a thud
as his body passed through the cushion of snow and hit the concrete
below. But in the howl of the wind and the rattle of windows it would
have been extraordinary if any one had heard him or taken him for
something more than a slate or a chimney pot. He was not in a
condition to explain himself. And the snow went on falling.
Mr. Fortune, though free from his coat and his hat and his scarf and
his gloves, though scorching both hands and one foot at the hall
fire, was still telling Sam his troubles when the Hon. Stanley Lomas
came downstairs. Mr. Fortune said, “Help!”
“Had a good time?” said Lomas cheerily. “Did you get to Seville?”
“Oh, Peter, don’t say things like that. I can’t bear it. Have the
feelings of a man. Be a brother, Lomas. I’ve been in nice, kind
countries with a well-bred climate, and I come back to this epileptic
blizzard, and here’s Lomas pale and perky waiting for me on the mat.
And then you’re civil! Oh, Sophonisba! Sophonisba, oh!”
“I did rather want to see you,” Lomas explained.
“I hate seeing you. I hate seeing anything raw and alive. If you talk
to me I shall cry. My dear man, have you had dinner?”
“Hours ago.”
“That wasn’t quite nice of you, you know. When you come to see me,
you shouldn’t dine first. It makes me suspect your taste. Well, well!
Come and see me eat. That is a sight which has moved strong men to
tears, the pure ecstasy of joy, Lomas. The sublime and the beautiful,
by R. Fortune. And Sam says Elise has a _timbale de foie gras_ and
her very own _entrecôte_. Dine again, Whittington. And we will look
upon the wine when it is red. My Chambertin is strongly indicated.
And then I will fall asleep for a thousand years, same like the
Sleeping Beauty.”
“I wish I could.”
“Lomas, old dear!” Reggie turned and looked him over. “Yes, you have
been going it. You ought to get away.”
“I dare say I shall. That is one of the things I’m going to ask
you--what you think about resignation.”
“Oh, Peter! As bad as that?” Reggie whistled. “Sorry I was futile.
But I couldn’t know. There’s been nothing in the papers.”
“Only innuendoes. Damme, you can’t get away from it in the clubs.”
They had it out over dinner.
Some months before a new Government had been formed, which was
advertised to bring heaven down to earth without delay. And the first
outward sign of its inward and spiritual grace was the Great Coal
Ramp. Some folks in the City began to buy the shares of certain coal
companies. Some folks in the City began to spread rumours that the
Government was going to nationalize mines district by district--those
districts first in which the shares had been bought. The shares then
went to a vast price.
“All the usual nauseating features of a Stock Exchange boom,” said
Reggie.
“No. This is founded on fact,” said Lomas. “That’s the distinguishing
feature. It was worked on the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but
the truth. Whoever started the game had exact and precise
information. They only touched those companies which the Government
meant to take over; they knew everything and they knew it right.
Somebody of the inner circle gave the plan away.”
“‘Politics is a cursed profession,’” said Reggie.
Lomas looked gloomily at his Burgundy. “Politicians are almost the
lowest of God’s creatures,” he agreed. “I know that. I’m a Civil
servant. But I don’t see how any of them can have had a finger in
this pie. The scheme hadn’t come before the Cabinet. Everybody knew,
of course, that something was going to be done. But the whole point
is the particular companies concerned in this primary provisional
scheme. And nobody knew which they were but the President of the
Board of Trade and his private secretary.”
“The President--that’s Horace Kimball.”
“Yes. No politics about him. He’s the rubber king, you know. He was
brought in on the business men for a business Cabinet cry. He was
really put there to get these nationalization schemes through.”
“And he begins by arousing city scandal. Business men and business
methods. Well, well! Give me the politicians after all. I was born
respectable. I would rather be swindled in the quiet, old-fashioned
way. I like a sense of style.”
“Quite--quite,” said Lomas heartily. “But I must say I have nothing
against Kimball. He is the usual thing. Thinks he is like
Napoleon--pathetically anxious you should suppose he has been
educated. But he really is quite an able fellow, and he means to be
civil. Only he’s mad to catch the fellow who gave his scheme away. I
don’t blame him. But it’s damned awkward.”
“If only Kimball and his private secretary knew, either Kimball or
the private secretary gave it away.”
“My dear Fortune, if you say things like that, I shall break down.
That is the hopeless sort of jingle I say in my sleep. I believe
Kimball’s honest. That’s his reputation. As keen as they make ’em,
but absolutely straight. And why should he play double? He is
ridiculously rich. If he wanted money it was idiotic to go into the
Government. He would do much better for himself in business. No; he
must have gone into politics for power and position and so on. And
then at the start his career is mucked by a financial scandal. You
can’t suppose he had a hand in it. It’s too mad.”
“Remains the private secretary. Don’t Mr. Kimball like his private
secretary?”
“Oh, yes. Kimball thinks very well of him. I pointed out to Kimball
that on the facts we were bound to suspect Sandford, and he was quite
huffy about it--said he had the highest opinion of Sandford, asked
what evidence I had, and so on.”
“Very good and proper, and even intelligent. My respects to H.
Kimball. What evidence have you, Lomas, old thing?”
“You just put the case yourself,” said Lomas, with some irritation.
“Only Kimball and Sandford were in the secret. It’s impossible in the
nature of things Kimball should have sold it. Remains Sandford.”
“Oh, Peter! That’s not evidence, that’s an argument.”
“I know, confound you. But there is evidence of a sort. One of
Sandford’s friends is a young fellow called Walkden, and he’s in one
of the firms which have been running the Stock Exchange boom.”
“It’s queer,” said Reggie, and lit a pipe. “But it wouldn’t hang a
yellow dog.”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” Lomas cried. “We have nothing to
act on, and they’re all cursing me because we haven’t!”
“Meaning Kimball?”
“Kimball--Kimball’s calling twice a day to know how the case is going
on, please. But the whole Government’s on it now. Minutes from the
Home Secretary--bitter mems. from the Prime Minister. They want a
scapegoat, of course. Governments do.”
“Find us some one to hang or we’ll hang you?”
“I told you I was thinking of resigning.”
“Because they want to bully you into making a case against the
private secretary--and you have a conscience?”
“Lord, no. I’d convict him to-day if I could. I don’t like the
fellow. He’s a young prig. But I can’t convict him. No; I don’t think
they want to hang anybody in particular. But they must have somebody
to hang, and I can’t find him.”
“It isn’t much in my way,” Reggie murmured. “The Civil Service
frightens me. I have a brother-in-law in the Treasury. Sometimes he
lets me dine with him. Meditations among the Tombs for Reginald. No.
It isn’t much in my way. I want passion and gore. But you intrigue
me, Lomas, you do indeed. I would know more of H. Kimball and
Secretary Sandford. They worry me.”
“My God, they worry me,” said Lomas heartily.
“They are too good to be true. I wonder if there’s any other nigger
in the wood pile?”
“Well, I can’t find him.”
“Hope on, hope ever. Don’t you remember it was the dowager popped the
Bohun sapphires? And don’t you resign. If the Prime Minister sends
you another nasty mem., say you have your eye on his golf pro. A man
who putts like that must have something on his conscience. And don’t
you resign for all the politicians outside hell. It may be they want
to get rid of you. I’ll come and see you to-morrow.”
“I wish you would,” said Lomas. “You have a mighty good eye for a
face.”
“My dear old thing! I never believe in faces, that’s all. The only
one I ever liked was that girl who broke her sister-in-law’s nose.
But I’ll come round.”
Comforted by wine and sympathy, Lomas was sent away to trudge home
through a foot of snow. And the snow went on falling.
PHASE II.--THE PRIVATE SECRETARY