The Path Grows Crooked
In the sitting-room of apartment A, in the south wing of the Grand Hôtel
Royal, Lord Vernon was tramping nervously up and down while his
companions regarded him with evident anxiety.
"I tell you fellows," he was saying, "it can't be kept up--I thought so
from the first, but all the rest of you seemed to think it would be so
infernally easy that I was ashamed to say anything. I knew something was
sure to happen to give us away, and something has happened. What was I
to do? Sit there like a mummy and allow that dog to frighten those girls
to death? What the deuce are you laughing at, Collins?"
"I'm laughing at your tragic tone. No, you couldn't have sat
still--though I don't suppose the young ladies were in any serious
danger. They were pretty, no doubt?"
"Ah!" said Vernon, with a mental smacking of the lips at the entrancing
picture the words called up.
"That, of course, made it doubly impossible to sit still. Did they know
you?"
"Oh, no; never saw me before; hadn't the slightest suspicion that they
were talking to such a famous personage. They said they were Americans."
"Then I don't see that any harm has been done."
"Unfortunately, when I was coming back, all bundled up in my chair, we
ran right into them down here at the door, and they recognised me
instantly--I could tell that by their gasp of amazement as they shrank
back against the wall."
"Still, if you preserved a cold and haughty demeanour, they may have
concluded they were mistaken."
"Cold and haughty nothing!" broke in the third man. "I was there and
I'll swear he winked."
"No, I didn't wink," laughed Vernon. "Though perhaps I should if I'd
dared--they're mighty taking girls!"
"Well, what _did_ you do?" demanded Collins, with just a trace of
impatience.
Again Vernon laughed.
"I sent 'em back a note asking 'em not to tell," he said.
Collins threw up his hands in horror and the third man grinned
sardonically. Vernon looked at them and kept on laughing.
"You two fellows take it too seriously," he added. "I don't believe
they'll tell."
"I thought you knew women better than that," said Collins,
reproachfully.
"I do know them--better than any dried-up diplomat, at least,--and I
believe we can trust these two--for a few days, anyway. How much time do
we need?"
"A week, at the very least. Fancy asking a woman to keep a secret for a
week! And as for taking it too seriously, you know how much depends on
it."
"Yes," observed Vernon, sarcastically, "you fellows seem to think the
peace of Europe depends on it."
"I should say that would not be overstating it in the least," said
Collins, with a solemnity almost religious.
"Oh, nonsense; you diplomatic fellows make mountains out of molehills;
you see a storm in every cloud; you imagine the lightning's going to
strike you every time it flashes! You're all nerves!"
"Anyway, you agreed--"
"Yes, I know I agreed," interrupted Vernon, irritably, "and I was a fool
to do it."
"Besides," added Blake, "we've got to play very close, since it happens
that Markeld is in this very hotel. We supposed, of course, that he
would go on to London. I must say that I think he showed exceedingly
poor taste in following us here."
"Oh, I don't know," said Vernon. "I think it was rather enterprising. I
only wish we could treat the poor devil fairly."
"Well, since he is here," continued Blake, "there's only one thing for
you to do, and that is to stay under cover."
"But, confound it!" protested Vernon, "I can't stay cooped up here in
these rooms all the time!"
"That's the only safe way," observed Collins. "Suppose Markeld should
find out how the land lies! The fat would be in the fire for sure; and
we'd be in a mighty awkward position! Suppose the jingoes got hold of
it!" and he turned pale at the thought.
"Well, I won't stay shut up, that's certain," said Vernon, doggedly.
"As for the jingoes, let them rave!"
"That's easy to say," retorted Collins, with irony, "when some one else
has to bear the brunt of it."
Vernon snorted impatiently.
"You may frighten yourself whenever you please," he said, "but you can't
frighten me. I've heard the cry of 'Wolf! Wolf!' entirely too often."
"But the wolf came at last," Blake pointed out.
"Well, it isn't coming this time; and I don't care if it is. I repeat,
categorically and imperatively, _I won't stay shut up!"_
"You agreed to obey our instructions, you know."
"Every one has the right to rebel against a tyrant!"
"At least," said Collins, yielding the ground grudgingly, "you must
remember always to keep on your sick-togs when you do go out, and to try
to look a little less scandalously healthy than you are. Now, if you'd
kept on your wraps when you jumped out of the chair--"
"How was I to kick a dog with a rug around my legs? You fellows don't
give me credit for what I did do. I'd just got into a most interesting
conversation with those girls, when up came a fellow whom I knew
instinctively to be Markeld."
He stopped as he caught the others' astounded gaze.
"Yes, Markeld!" he repeated, defiantly. "I've an idea that he is the
owner of the dog. I suppose I should have sent James to inquire who the
dog belonged to before I ventured forth!"
"No matter," said Collins, impatiently. "What did you do?"
"I was guilty of unpardonable rudeness," answered Vernon. "I broke away
from those girls as though they had the plague, jumped into my chair,
and buried myself behind my newspaper. They must have thought I'd
escaped from somewhere."
"So Markeld didn't see you, it doesn't matter what they thought,"
remarked Collins.
"Oh, doesn't it?"
"Surely you're not going to run any further risks for the sake of a girl
more or less!"
"My dear Collins!" said Vernon, with chill politeness; "I have always
suspected that a course in diplomacy sucked the blood out of a man and
substituted ice-water in its stead. Now I know it. Permit me to add that
you have not seen the girl--either girl--though I don't suppose that
would make the slightest difference."
"May I inquire what you propose to do?" asked Collins, flushing a
little.
"I propose to cultivate the acquaintance of the beautiful Americans in
every way I can. After all, what does it matter to me who rules over a
little twopenny duchy called Schloshold-Markheim?"
"I suppose your promise is of equal indifference to you!"
"Damn my promise! See here, Collins; don't push me too far; the worm
will turn. Of course, I'll keep my promise; but don't irritate me. I'm
all on edge over this thing now--a little more, and I'll be capable of
doing something--"
A tap at the door interrupted him, and he disappeared between two
curtains into the inner room, where an invalid chair, buried in wraps,
stood by the window. Near it was a little table covered with medicine
bottles, glasses, spoons--in a word, all the paraphernalia of prolonged
and serious illness.
Blake opened the door and took the card that was presented to him.
"The Prince of Markeld," he said, looking at it. "Ah, yes; you will
tell His Highness that there has been no change in the condition of Lord
Vernon, who thanks him for his kind inquiries."
He closed the door and turned back into the room.
"Now, what do you think that means?" he asked, of Collins. "That's the
second time today. He's getting importunate."
Collins stared out of the window gloomily.
"Perhaps he suspects already," he said. "I've been told he's a clever
fellow--in fact, he's proved it once or twice."
"Suppose he does suspect--what shall we do?"
"Convince him to the contrary. Where's Scaddam?"
"In his room, I suppose."
"Better send for him."
"May I come out?" inquired a voice from the inner room.
"Yes, come ahead," called Collins, and Vernon reappeared. "Now, my
friend," he continued rapidly, "you'd better go in and put on your
war-togs." Vernon groaned. "Put 'em on thick. I believe Markeld suspects
the trick we're playing, and we've got to fool him--we've got to show
him what a sick man you are."
"How _could_ he suspect?" demanded Vernon, incredulously. "Even if he
saw me, he couldn't recognise me--he doesn't know me."
"Perhaps those girls have already given you away."
"Nonsense! You fellows are afraid of your own shadows. He can't
suspect!"
"Just the same, we've got to be prepared for emergencies. Have you got
plenty of pepper?"
Vernon groaned again.
"Plenty! I tell you fellows I'll ruin my health if I keep this up much
longer. I might easily burst a blood-vessel. People often do when they
sneeze."
"Well, we'll have to take the risk," said Blake, with grim complacency.
"Much risk you take! In fact, I saw you sprinkling pepper on my
handkerchief this morning, when there wasn't the slightest need of it."
"Now, see here," protested Collins, sharply, "what's the use of all this
argument? We've got to see this thing through, whether we like it or
not. I've sent for Scaddam, so he'll be on the scene in case of
emergencies--"
"You mean, if I break a blood-vessel?" inquired Vernon, politely.
"Oh, break your grandmother! I tell you--"
There was a second tap on the door and Vernon again made a dive for the
inner room. This time, a note was handed in. Collins closed the door,
tore open the envelope nervously, and ran his eyes quickly over the
contents.
"Come out here, you beggar," he called, and Vernon reappeared on the
threshold. "Take a look at this," he added, and held out the note.
"Maybe you won't be so cocksure hereafter that diplomats are always
making mountains out of mole-hills."
Vernon took the paper and read it slowly, his face growing blanker and
more blank as he proceeded. Then he went back to the beginning and read
it aloud:
"The Prince of Markeld admired
greatly Lord Vernon's recent prompt
and chivalrous action, which he had the
privilege of witnessing. He is sure,
however, that His Lordship's illness
cannot be so serious as represented, and
hopes that His Lordship will not persist
in refusing him an audience. Such a
course would be neither ingenuous nor
fair."
For a moment, no one spoke, then Blake gave vent to a low whistle.
"Well," he said, dazedly; "so the cat's out of the bag! What's to be
done?"
"There's only one thing that can be done," Collins said sharply. "I've
already pointed out what that is," and he sat down at the table and
wrote a rapid message. "How will this do? 'Lord Vernon will be pleased
to see the Prince of Markeld at five o'clock this afternoon. He has no
recollection of having recently performed any prompt or chivalrous
action. The Prince has doubtless been misinformed.' That gives us half
an hour--neither too much time, nor too little."
"But that's folly!" protested Blake; "how can you carry it through?"
"Leave that to me. I've got out of tighter places than this one. And,"
he added, turning to Vernon, "if you ever looked ill in your life,
prepare to do it now."
Vernon was looking dreamily over Markeld's note.
"He uses adjectives well, doesn't he?" he asked. "'Such a course would
be neither ingenuous nor fair.' 'Pon my word, I quite agree with him!"
"Remember, you're under orders," said Collins, sternly.
"Under reasonable orders, perhaps," admitted Vernon, quietly, with a
little tightening of the muscles of the face. "I don't admit that either
you or Blake is infallible. What is it you propose to do?"
"We propose, in the first place, to send Markeld this note."
Vernon took it and read it at a glance.
"A note which is, of course, a lie," he observed, dispassionately, as he
handed it back.
"It is not a lie!" retorted Collins, flushing hotly. "It is, on the
contrary, the absolute truth."
"There are many ways of lying," remarked Vernon, still more coolly. "It
isn't so much the letter as the spirit which constitutes a lie."
"This is scarcely the time," put in Blake, "for a lecture upon ethics."
"And it would, in any event," added Vernon, "be entirely wasted upon the
present audience. Well, what next?"
"I think you understand your part," answered Collins, curtly. "The only
question is, are you prepared to play it?"
Vernon hesitated for an instant, his hands trembling slightly.
"I feel the veriest scoundrel," he said, bitterly. "It sickens me--but
you've got me fast."
"Yes," agreed Collins, with a malicious grin, "we've got you fast."
"Though not quite as fast as you think, perhaps," added Vernon,
quietly. "I warn you that I will break the bonds if they become too
galling. I see that I'm going to owe Prince Frederick a hearty apology
before this thing is over."
"Oh, I shan't interfere with your apology when the time conies,"
retorted Collins.
"I should hope not," said Vernon, still more quietly; then he turned and
entered the inner room.
"You mustn't push him too hard, Arthur," said Blake, in a low tone, "or
he'll kick over the traces. Remember, he is devilish high-spirited. And
he won't lie."
"It takes a firm hand to keep him under control; but I'll be careful.
And he won't have to lie. It's confoundedly unfortunate Markeld couldn't
have left his dog at home! Just see how small a thing may affect the
fate of nations!"
"Don't get philosophical," advised Blake. "There isn't time. Are you
going to send that note?"
Collins sealed the missive.
"It's our only chance," he said, decidedly. "Don't you see; we've got to
brazen this thing through. We're in a corner, and there's only one way
out." He went to the door and opened it. "For the Prince of Markeld," he
said, as he handed the note to the man who stood outside.