HIS EXCELLENCY SUGGESTS
In an upstairs room of a Washington Ministry three men sat in
conference. One, a stout, bearded man, was seated behind a flat-top
desk on which he constantly thrummed with nervous fingers; the others
sat facing him. The man at the desk was the Minister of a Kingdom, and
looked it. His eyes were half closed, as if in languid indifference,
effectually veiling their keenness. The expression of his mouth was
lost in the dark moustache, and in the beard combed from the center.
The visible part of his face would have made a gambler's fortune; and,
save for its warm color, it might have been carved out of ice. Without
ever a hint of harshness or loudness, his voice was one to command
attention; though it came out soft and velvety, it was with the half
assurance that it could ring like steel if the occasion arose. The
occasion never arose. The hands, whose fingers thrummed on the
glass-topped desk, were soft, warm-looking, and always moist, with a
dampness that on contact made you feel vaguely that you had touched
oil--and you had.
Both of the other men were beardless, but one had the ghost of a
moustache on his upper lip. He was dapper, clean and deferential. The
other was short and somewhat ungainly in build, and his face showed
evidence of the recent shaving off of a heavy beard. He had no graces,
and evidently no thoughts but of service--service of any kind, so long
as he recognized the authority demanding it. His clothes did not suit
him; they were rich enough, but they were not his kind. A soldier of
the ranks, a sailor before the mast, a laborer on Sunday, could have
exchanged clothes with this man and profited in values, while the other
would certainly have profited in looks.
"You did not see the other, then, Ivan?" the fat man asked,
interrupting the story of his awkward guest.
"I did not, Excellency. He came at me too quickly, and I had no idea
there was anyone there besides myself and--and the person who--"
"Yes, yes. The person who is now without a name. Go on."
"I was in the shrubs, near a great large tree that seemed to form part
of a wall, when the two, the person and a lady, came back together.
She--"
"Did they act as if they knew one another?"
The man smiled. "Excellency, they acted as if they knew one another
quite well. They embraced."
"_That_ you did _not_ see, Ivan?"
"No, Excellency, of course, I did not see _that_."
"Proceed, Ivan."
"After they--parted, Excellency, the lady opened the tree and went into
it."
"_Opened the tree_?" The nervous fingers were stilled.
"Yes, Excellency. It must have been a door."
"Rather odd for America, I should say. Eh, Wratslav?"
The dapper man bowed. "As you say, Excellency, it is rather unusual in
America."
"Proceed, Ivan." The Minister resumed his thrumming.
"When the lady closed the tree and was gone, the--ah--person--turned to
go past me. My gun had the silencer on which Your Excellency--"
"You are forgetting again, Ivan." The half-closed eyes opened for an
instant, and the steel was close underneath the velvet of the tone.
"Which Your Excellency has no doubt heard of."
"Oh, yes--Maxim's."
"My gun exploded--but noiselessly, Excellency, because of the
silencer--just as the strange man jumped at me. The--ah--person fell,
and I ran. The strange man followed and caught me. I fought, but he
knew where to hit; and when I awoke I was alone with the--person--who
had, most unfortunately, been killed when the gun went off. I came
back and--" he glanced at the one who had been called Wratslav--"he
came with me."
The Minister looked inquiringly toward the dapper man, who then took up
the story.
"We thought it better to dispose of the--person, Excellency, and
avoid--"
"Exactly. You did well. That will do, Ivan. You may return to your
duties."
The man arose and went toward the door, but the Minister stopped him.
"One moment, Ivan. Do you think we could find the other?--the man who
struck you?"
"I think his face, or hands, or arms, would be marked by the gun fire,
Excellency."
"Thank you, Ivan."
The rough man bowed himself out. For a while the Minister sat silent,
gazing contemplatively at the fingers which were moving more slowly now
as though keeping pace with his thoughts. Finally he looked up.
"Did you find out if there were any strangers in town last night,
Wratslav?"
"There were two, Excellency. One was our own detective, who knew not
at all that I was on the work. The other was an Englishman--the same
who visits the lady."
"H-m, h-mmmm." The tones were long drawn out, and again His Excellency
was silent, considering what this new development might mean. The
fingers ceased their thrumming and closed around a delicate ivory
paper-knife which lay near by. When the Minister again spoke, he did
so slowly, carefully, weighing each word.
"Have you seen him--the Englishman--since?"
"No, Excellency--"
"No?" The word came with cold emphasis.
"The hotel clerk, who is friendly--for a consideration--telephoned me
that the Englishman was out at the time of the accident, and that his
hand was burned slightly, and showed powder marks."
"So! He has said nothing to the authorities?"
"Not a word, so far as I have heard."
"Strange. Why should he conceal the matter?"
"He might think that he would be suspected."
"True, true. That is well spoken, Wratslav. But yet he knows a little
too much, does he not?"
"A great deal too much, Excellency."
"There is no certainty that he does not know also who the lady is."
"He goes to see her, Excellency."
The ivory knife swayed delicately, rhythmically, in the mobile fingers,
then was still. The Minister spoke deliberately.
"It would be well if he did not go again--did not speak to her again
for that matter--" The heavy lids flickered for an instant as His
Excellency flashed one look of keen intent towards his hearer as though
to emphasize the portent of his words. Then the smooth voice
continued, "if it could be arranged."
"It can be arranged, Excellency."
"I thought so." Again the keen look. Then the Minister leaned back in
his chair, revolving it slightly that his arm might rest more
comfortably on the desk.
"Excellency?" Wratslav spoke with some anxiety.
"Yes?"
"Unfortunately, the Englishman is a person of some consequence in his
own country."
"Indeed? One Griffin, is he not?"
"His brother is dead. He died last week. The Englishman is now Baron
Griffin."
The fingers tightened around the ivory knife.
"That," the Minister's voice became softer and even more velvety,
"_that_ is unfortunate." There was silence again. The knife was laid
down, and the fingers moved slowly, heavily, on the desk. "Still, I
think, Wratslav, that Ivan should continue to work on the railroad--and
you also--while the excellent shooting continues near--ah--the camp.
It seems best."
The telephone on the desk tinkled. His Excellency picked up the
receiver.
"Yes, someone will come down."
He hung up the receiver and turned to Wratslav.
"There is a telegram downstairs. Go down and get it and bring it here.
Hurry."
The secretary was back in a few moments with the envelope, which he
handed to the Minister, who cut it open and read the message. The
ivory knife snapped in the tense grip; His Excellency looked idly at
the pieces, but never a line of his face moved.
"Matters are a trifle more complicated, Wratslav. We must think
again." He handed the telegram to his assistant. It read:
"A British subject presents his compliments to Your Excellency, and
begs to assure you that the statement which he has written and sent
under seal to the British Ambassador in Washington will not be opened
or its contents made known to anyone except in the event of the sudden
demise of Baron Griffin or James Saunders."
Wratslav returned the message to His Excellency and sat waiting. The
slow thrumming was resumed. Then the Minister turned back to his desk,
and his hand strayed to the papers on it.
"We may, perhaps, need both you and Ivan here in Washington for some
time yet, Wratslav."
"Yes, Excellency."
The silence lasted a full minute.
"About the lady, Wratslav--" the Minister almost smiled; "it would be a
great honor were she to visit the Ministry soon."
"Would she come, Excellency?"
The question was ignored.
"A very fast automobile could be used. It could be made quite
comfortable, I think."
"If she made no outcry, Excellency. There is that danger--and of
gossip also."
"That, too, might be arranged."
"But if she proves--"
"She will not--not if I announce, after receiving your telegram, that
her arrival is momentarily expected--traveling incognito, you see--no
fuss or receptions--but a short visit before sailing back to Europe.
Over there it has been given out that she is traveling, so they know
nothing outside the court. The King is anxious." There was another
flashing look from the keen eyes before the slow, "He rewards well,"
spoken with meaning emphasis.
Wratslav answered the look. "I will try, Excellency."
"To try is not sufficient, Wratslav."
"I will do it, Excellency."
"That is better."
So it came to pass that the dapper young man called Wratslav, and the
rough one called Ivan, left next day in a fast automobile whose
limousine body seemed especially built to interfere as little as
possible with its speed. Why it was kept constantly stored with
provisions, and why it carried ropes and a tent of silk, no one of the
workers in the camp knew; for none of them ever saw those things--or
indeed ever saw the interior of the car at all.