At that moment there was a discreet tap at the door and Peters entered,
saying:
"An aide-de-camp of His Majesty wishes to see you on a matter of great
importance, sir."
For a second Waldron stood confused.
"Oh! he must not find me here," whispered the Princess, starting up in
quick alarm. "Where can I go?"
"In this room," the diplomat replied quickly, opening a door which led
to his small dining-room. He switched on the light, and she passed
within, closing the door noiselessly. It was all done in a few seconds,
and then Hubert said in his natural voice:
"Oh, show him in."
Next moment a tall, good-looking, dark-moustached officer, wearing his
grey military cloak, entered jauntily, saying in Italian with a merry
twinkle in his eyes as he grasped the other's hand:
"Sorry to disturb you at this hour, friend Waldron--especially when you
have a lady visitor."
"Lady visitor! What do you mean?" he asked, for Count Guicciolo was an
old friend of many years.
"Well, your man told me that you could not be disturbed, so I naturally
formed my own conclusions," replied the aide-de-camp airily, pointing to
the muff. "But I apologise. Here is a message for you from His
Majesty. I was to deliver it into your hands," and from beneath his
cloak he produced a letter which upon the flap bore the neat royal
cipher of the House of Savoy.
In surprise the diplomat broke the seal and read the following formal
words:
"_His Majesty the King commands to private audience the Honourable
Hubert Waldron, M.V.O., this evening and immediately_," followed by the
date.
Hubert noticed the neat handwriting. It had been penned by His Majesty
King Umberto himself.
"Well!" he asked the Count.
"I was sent to bring you at once to the Palace, my friend," replied the
other.
"What is amiss? Surely it is strange that I should receive a command at
this hour!"
"Yes. But His Majesty works very late sometimes."
"Is anything seriously wrong?"
"Not that I am aware of. I was simply summoned to the private cabinet,
and His Majesty gave me that letter, and ordered me to find you at
once," and he took a cigarette from the silver box which Waldron handed
him, and holding it in his white-gloved hand slowly lit it.
"Will you come with me now?" he asked as he cast away the match. "I'm
awfully sorry to disturb you," he added with a laugh. "But it is His
Majesty's orders."
"Oh, don't apologise," was the diplomat's reply. He was annoyed, for he
knew what a sad gossip was Guicciolo, and that on the morrow half Rome
would know that a young lady had been found in his rooms. At all
hazards her identity must be concealed. Therefore, making an excuse to
obtain his coat, Waldron passed into the dining-room where the Princess
was standing in anxiety, whispered to her an explanation how he would
have to leave unceremoniously and urging her to leave five minutes
later.
"We will resume our conversation to-morrow," he added. "But not here.
It is far too dangerous."
"Where then?" she asked eagerly in a low whisper. "I will meet you
anywhere after dark." He reflected a second. Then said:
"Do you know Bucci's little restaurant in the Piazza delle Coppelle?"
"Yes, I know. Quite a quiet little place. I will never be recognised
there."
"Well, at half-past eight. The dinner will be over then, and the place
will be empty."
"Agreed. _Addio_," she said, and they grasped hands quickly. Then he
put on his overcoat, and went out with the Count, while five minutes
later Peters, ignorant of her identity, showed the Princess out, and
accompanied her downstairs to the door.
As Waldron and the Count entered the fine Quirinale Palace they were
challenged by the sentries at the great gateway, whereupon the
aide-de-camp gave the password and they saluted.
Then, crossing the great handsome courtyard, they entered by one of the
smaller doors, and passing round the gallery to the huge gilded
staircase where two servants in the royal livery stood on either side
like statues. They ascended, and passing along a well-carpeted
corridor, halted at last before a heavy mahogany door outside which
stood a sentry on duty--the door of the King's private cabinet.
Again the Count uttered the password, was saluted, and was then allowed
to knock.
A deep voice gave permission to enter, whereupon Hubert Waldron crossed
the threshold and bowed low in the presence of a rather short,
middle-aged man of smart military appearance, though he wore civilian
evening dress with a single decoration on the breast of his coat, the
Star of the Order of the Crown of Italy, of which he was Master.
The room was not large, but was tastefully, even luxuriantly furnished.
In the centre stood a great mahogany writing-table piled with papers,
from which he had just risen, while at the side was set an armchair for
those to whom His Majesty gave audience.
"Ah, Waldron, I am very glad they have found you so quickly," he
exclaimed, putting out his hand in gracious welcome. "I want to have a
confidential chat with you. I want you to assist me, for I feel sure
you can."
"If I can serve Your Majesty in any way," replied the British diplomat,
"I am, as you know, only too anxious and too willing."
"Ah! I know. I know that," replied King Umberto briskly. "Good! Sit
down."
Then, when His Majesty had settled himself again in his padded
writing-chair--at that table where for many weary hours each day he
attended to matters of State affecting forty millions of his subjects--
he looked straight at the man before him, and asked suddenly in Italian:
"Signor Waldron, can you keep a Secret?"
"That is my profession," was the other's calm reply. "And any secret of
Your Majesty's will, I assure you, be safe in my keeping."
The King paused. He was dressed plainly, for after the banquet given
that night to a Russian royalty he had changed from his striking uniform
into easier clothes before commencing work. Yet in his face was a deep,
earnest, noble expression, for he was a monarch who had the welfare of
his nation very deeply and genuinely at heart. His dark, deep-set eyes,
his slightly sallow skin, and the three lines across his brow told their
own tale. Though a King, the crown bore heavily upon his head, for the
responsibilities of a State run by a Ministry which was not above
suspicion weighed very heavily upon him.
The Cabinet was, alas, composed mainly of men with axes to grind. Of
financial scandals there had been many, and more than once there had
been a public outcry when Ministers had been tried as criminals and
convicted of bribery, and of peculation of the public funds.
Yet as monarch his hands were tied, and perhaps no ruler in all Europe
had so many sleepless nights as he.
The silence was broken by a bugle in the great courtyard below. The
Palace guard were changing.
"Listen, Waldron," he said at last in a low voice of deep earnestness
after he had ascertained that the door was closed, "I have asked you
here to-night because I feel that I can trust you. My father trusted
your father, and I have known you ever since we were lads. I know how
shrewd and painstaking you are, and what a high sense of honour you
possess."
"Your Majesty is far too flattering," Hubert replied modestly. "I know
that my dead father always held yours in the highest esteem. And you
have shown towards myself a graciousness that I never expected."
"Because I know that you are my friend," he said. "Even a King must
have a friend in whom he can at times confide. That is why I have asked
you to come and see me."
"You do me too great an honour," declared the diplomat.
"Not at all. It is I who am asking your favour in your assistance," was
His Majesty's quiet response. "Let me explain the situation of which
you, as a British diplomat, will at once recognise the extreme gravity."
And then drawing his white hand wearily across his brow, he leaned back
in his chair and sighed. In that gay, brilliant Court--one of the
gayest in all Europe--His Majesty always presented a brilliant and
kingly figure in his splendid uniforms and dazzling decorations, but at
heart he hated all pomp and show, and as soon as a ceremony was over he
always changed into evening-clothes, or else into a navy serge suit
which, being an old friend, was slightly shiny at the elbows.
A high-minded, God-fearing ruler, he carried out to the letter all the
traditions of the House of Savoy and worked incessantly and untiringly
for the welfare of his nation, and for the benefit of the sweated
factory-hand, and the poor, half-starved _contadino_. For certain
Hebrew financiers who had tried to grip the country and strangle it, he
had nothing but hatred. For the present Cabinet, mostly composed of
commercial adventurers and place-seeking lawyers, he had the most
supreme contempt, and daily he sighed that he was not an autocrat, so
that he could sweep away with a single stroke of the pen all those who
stood in the way of his beloved Italy's prosperity.
True, by dint of his own business acumen and his resolute firmness
against the various Ministers of Finance who were too often rogues, many
of whom ought long ago to have been in prison, he had himself placed the
finances of Italy upon a sound basis. The lire was now almost equal in
value to the French franc. By this, commercial industries had been
encouraged, foreign capital had been invested in Italy, the railways had
been taken over by the State, and a wave of prosperity had swept upon
the nation such as had never hitherto been experienced.
But this had not suited the Cabinet, every man of whom could be bought
at a price. Hence he stood alone as ruler, compelled daily to combat
the intrigues of that unscrupulous horde of adventurers which composed
the Chamber of Deputies, and to continue the policy he had marked out as
his own.
As a diplomat Hubert Waldron knew all this and deeply sympathised with
him. Truly, the Palace of the Quirinale was not a bed of roses for its
Sovereign.
Again the bugle sounded, and from below came the regular tramp of armed
men.
The little buhl clock upon the mantelshelf chimed the hour upon its
silver bell, the big fire burned cosily, and over the great
writing-table the two green silk-shaded electric lamps threw their
mellow glow.
"Waldron, my nation is to-day in gravest peril," the King said at last,
looking straight into the other's eyes very gravely. "A secret--one
which I foolishly believed to be safe from our enemies--has been
betrayed! You are shrewd, cautious, and far-seeing. I will reveal the
whole ghastly truth to you--for you must help me. I rely upon you, for
though I am King of Italy you are, I know, my friend, and will help me
through the most critical crisis that has occurred since my accession to
the throne. Listen," he urged, "and I will relate the whole of the
remarkable circumstances."