"EVEN ONE SUBJECT MAY MAKE A KINGDOM"
When the last of the men had left, and I had seen von Nauheim go out
with the old baron in close consultation, I sat on alone for a time
thinking with some exultation of the result of my week's work in Munich,
and of the vastly changed position which my shuffling of the cards had
created.
I should certainly sleep the sounder for the value I had contrived to
put on my life in their eyes; for I calculated that until they had had
time to reconstruct their plans they would not venture to attack me.
What would they do? I pondered the question very carefully, turning it
over and over in my thoughts as I knew that wily old baron was doing at
the self-same moment--unless he had already made a plan and had taken
von Nauheim out to impart it to him.
One thing soon made itself quite clear. Whatever form their next move
might take, it would closely concern Minna. She was the pivot on which
everything turned in their inner plot. So long as she was a free agent,
and able to do what I had said--openly renounce the scheme and publicly
abandon her claim to the throne--they would not touch me. But the
instant they could get her into their control my power would be broken.
I should no longer be necessary to them, but in the way. I could guess
what would follow.
I determined, therefore, to take the initiative and force the game with
von Nauheim; and, fortunately, he gave me an opportunity.
After I had been alone about an hour he returned, and did not take any
trouble to hide the fact that he was in a very bad temper. When the
surface was scratched, he was too much of a cad to remember that he was
my host. He swaggered into the room and poured himself out a stiff glass
of brandy and drank it. Then he turned to me.
"I suppose you think you've managed things devilish well to try and play
the master in this way?"
"Well, I haven't done badly," I said, with a shrug of the shoulders.
"I should like to know what you mean about your condition about my
marriage--cursed interference, I call it."
"My meaning was plain enough to the rest; surely I need not repeat it."
"Oh, I know what you mean. But what the devil is it to you? Is it your
game to try and stop this marriage altogether? You won't, you know, so
you needn't try."
"I would rather discuss family affairs with you when you're----" I was
going to say sober, but checked myself and changed it to--"when you are
less excited."
"What do you mean by that?" he cried, taking fire and speaking
furiously. "Do you mean to insinuate that I'm drunk?" and he rose and
came up close to me.
At that I guessed his motive by a kind of intuition. He meant to put a
quarrel on me over this postponement of the marriage; and probably to
let it develop into a scuffle, in which he would try to regain
possession of the paper I had put in my pocket.
"I prefer not to continue the conversation now," I said coolly.
"But you'll have to, whether you wish it or not. I'm not going to let
you ride roughshod over me, I can tell you. You'll just have the
goodness to apologize to me for your insinuation that I'm drunk. D'ye
hear?"
"I have not the least intention of apologizing to you for anything,"
said I sharply.
"Oh, won't you? We'll see about that," he cried, in an even louder
voice; and then by deliberate intention I saw him knock over a small
table on which a number of bottles and glasses stood. These fell to the
ground with a loud clatter and crash, and the next moment a couple of
servants came running into the room.
I judged that it was a preconcerted signal, for the moment they appeared
he put his hand on my arm and, staring threateningly into my face, swore
at me.
"You shall not leave the room till you've apologized," he said, calling
the two men to his side.
I kept cool enough. I had no difficulty in shaking off his hand, and I
stared him full in the face with so stern a look that, bully as he was,
he flinched and wavered and changed color.
"Are you mad, Count von Nauheim, that you would make me forget I am
under your roof?"
"No, I'm not mad nor drunk either, but you shall repent this night's
work. Here," he called to the men again.
What he meant to do I know not, for my next action produced so wholly
unexpected a result that he had no chance to do anything.
I whipped out the revolver I had in my pocket and levelled it
point-blank in the lackeys' faces and bade them in ringing tones to be
off out of the room. They stayed for no second bidding, but turned on
their heels and scampered for their lives, leaving their master looking
very much of a fool in the middle of the room. I put the revolver away
again then and turned to him.
"Now that we are alone again, what do you mean to do?"
But his courage had fled as fast as his servants, and with a feeble
attempt at a lying laugh he mumbled out something to the effect that he
had meant no more than a joke, and turned away to hide his confusion in
another full dose of brandy.
I saw my chance and took it.
"I do not allow people to play jokes of that kind upon me, Count von
Nauheim," I said, as sternly as I could. "I prefer to trust the evidence
of my own wits and say that you were in earnest in the attempt to use
some violence toward me. Under these circumstances I cannot, of course,
remain another hour in your house; and you will understand this to mean
that I cannot receive you at Gramberg. You will therefore spare me the
unpleasantness of telling my servants to refuse you admittance by not
attempting to come there."
"Do you mean that you will try to keep me from my affianced wife?"
"Unless my cousin chooses to meet you elsewhere than at Gramberg, that
is precisely what will happen," I answered.
"I suppose you want the fortune for yourself?" he sneered.
"You have a short memory, count. You have forgotten you told me the
fortune would come to me as soon as this matter was successfully
accomplished."
He flushed, for he had evidently forgotten that part of his former
instructions, and my reminder irritated him.
"Then maybe you want Minna, and have a fancy yourself to sit on the
throne?"
"I have nothing further to say to you," I answered stiffly. "Any
communication I have to make regarding matters here shall be made to
Baron Heckscher." And with that I left the room and the house.
I was glad of the quarrel for many reasons. We should be rid of the
man's presence at Gramberg while making our preparations there; and I
should feel much freer in any future visits to Munich. But most welcome
of all was the fact that I knew Minna would be delighted at my having
secured that she should not see him again.
I went to a hotel, passed a very comfortable night after a very full
day, and the next morning before setting out for Gramberg I paid a visit
to each of the two men whom I had ascertained to be loyal to Minna.
Their names were Kummell and Beilager; and I urged them, for reasons
which I would explain, to pay a secret visit to Gramberg. Then I
returned to the castle lighter in heart and even busier in thought than
I had set out. Busy as I was with the details of my own schemes,
however, I found more than once my thoughts running ahead of me to the
castle in pleased speculation as to how Minna would meet me and what she
would say to my news.
When I had finished my train journey, and was driving to the castle, I
could not help comparing my present feelings with those on my first
arrival at the place. I had played the part of the Prince so completely
during the exciting experiences of the two weeks that had passed since
my arrival, every one had accepted my impersonation so unconditionally,
and I had acted and spoken so entirely as if I were indeed the head of
that great house, that I had actually begun to feel that I was in
reality the Prince. I looked upon the signs of deference, the honors,
the ready compliance with my wishes, the submission to my orders, as
though they were my just due; and I was conscious of a greatly increased
sense of dignity, which, I have no doubt, imparted itself to my mien and
speech.
I had now no thought of drawing back, of course, until at least I had
cut the knot of Minna's difficulties; and I had begun to entertain some
very unpleasant and disquieting doubts and anxieties as to how I could
shake off my borrowed plumes and return to the humdrum, meaningless,
empty, incognito existence.
As to that, indeed, a new set of thoughts had begun to take shape in my
mind--wild and forlorn hopes, in truth, but none the less cherished. The
idea was to try and so carry through this business of the Munich plot as
to ingratiate myself sufficiently into the favor of the great ones at
Berlin to win back my own position and inheritance.
The most spurring motive that can move a man was developing in me, and
developing fast. As a supposititious Prince von Gramberg I was
absolutely impossible as a suitor for Minna's hand. Even if I could save
her from this terrible entanglement, and escape any recognition, I could
not marry her. My life would then have to be lived over a mine which
might be exploded under my feet at any moment, to the ruin of both her
life and my own.
As an English adventurer and ex-play-actor my case was just as hopeless.
But as Count von Rudloff there would be no such bar of family between
us; my family was indeed as old as any in the kingdom, and I set my wits
to work zealously to find means by which I could use this plot to that
end. But the odds against me were enough to make any one despair, and
the knowledge almost appalled me.
I was not long left in doubt as to the manner of my reception at
Gramberg. My cousin was waiting for me on the very threshold, and she
came to meet me, her face aglow with pleasure, and her eyes beaming with
the warmest of welcomes. She took my hand in both hers, and for the
moment could do no more than murmur words of welcome and gladness at my
return. As for me, the sweetness of her beauty, the touch of her hands
in mine, and the sheer delight I felt in her presence held me
tongue-tied.
Then her words burst out with a rush, and she plied me with question
upon question about my news, my doings in Munich, what was to happen,
and a thousand other things, until I caught von Krugen's dark eyes--he
had met me at the station and was standing by me now--fixed upon her in
shrewd speculation.
"I could not hold back my impatience a minute longer, cousin Hans," she
said at length, with a smile. "Although my good aunt Gratz would have
had me wait upstairs in my rooms until you would find it convenient to
see me. You will forgive me for this unceremonious assault?"
I would have loved to tell her what I really thought about it; but I put
a curb on any such madness by reflecting that her anxiety had nothing in
it personal to myself.
"It would take so long in the telling," I answered. "I can scarcely tell
it to you here."
A look of regret and surprise dashed her face for the moment, and she
withdrew her hands from mine and bit her lips.
"I have done wrong in rushing to you thus. You will think it unseemly.
Will you let me know how soon you can come to me? Do believe, cousin, I
would not wittingly do anything to displease you."
I stood silent like a dumb fool; and then after a pause she added:
"I ought to have reflected you would have many things to do, and that
I--that I should be in the way. I will go."
"No, don't go," I blurted out, and then could say no more.
She looked at me in justifiable astonishment, and wrinkled her brows in
perplexity.
"The Prince was saying as we drove here that he must see you at once,
countess," interposed von Krugen, and I could have blessed him for the
words. Then he went forward and threw open the door of the room next,
and looked round as if inviting us to enter. It was the library.
I shook myself together with an effort and gathered my scattered wits.
"Can you spare me an interview at once?" I asked Minna.
"Cousin!" and her astonishment deepened and found expression in her
tone. "Am I not here for that very purpose--and dying to learn the news?
Come;" and she went into the room and led the way to the far end, as it
chanced to the very window from the embrasure of which I had first seen
her. "I hope your first news is that all this plot is at an end, and
that the project of the marriage is dead with it?"
I had mastered my stupid embarrassment by this time and had found my
tongue again.
"You must listen carefully to all I have to tell you, and then to what I
propose to do," I replied, and plunged at once into as plain a recital
as I could give of all that part of the proceedings which I deemed it
necessary to tell her. I dwelt upon the reasons why in my opinion it was
impossible to draw back yet, and upon all I expected to gain by the
counterplot I had devised.
"I will not see the Count von Nauheim again," she said, and her dislike
of him was the first and strongest feeling she expressed. Nor did I
grieve at this.
"He will not come here," I said. "I was going to force a quarrel on him
to make that impossible when he saved me the trouble by putting one on
me. I then warned him off the place."
"Good, very good!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "If I were to see him
again, I could not restrain my hatred. I should tell him exactly how I
feel toward him. It is loathsome even to be linked in name with such a
man. But as that is settled, I will do whatever you wish. I knew you
would be too much for them all, cousin Hans, if they did not kill you,
as I sadly feared they would. I shall never be able to repay you," she
added, looking to me and smiling. "If I were only a man, I could----"
"What?" I asked when she stopped.
"I could at least fight with you instead of being a clog and a drag."
"You are our inspiration," I said earnestly, and at that her cheeks
flushed and she cast down her eyes.
"I wish all the trouble were over," she said presently.
"We must not be in too great a hurry. We have done very well so far. A
little pluck and dash, and slice or two of luck, and we shall get
through all right. But now tell me, can you think of any place in
Munich, or near there, where you can go secretly and hide when the
moment comes?"
"Why must I be put out of the way in this fashion? It seems like running
away at the very moment of peril, and I am not afraid. Do you think I am
a coward?"
"This is no question of bravery or cowardice. It is merely a matter of
tactics. The very keystone of this inner plot of theirs is that you
shall be missing when the cry is raised for you to ascend the throne. To
secure that these people will stick at nothing--they would even take
your life. Now, for the success of my counter-scheme, I must be able to
have you at hand just when I want you. That is all-important. You will
have to go to Munich in apparent compliance with their wishes for you to
be ready for the final coup, and we shall show no sign of suspicion, but
you will have trusty guards to protect you against attack. My scheme is
to let them carry off some one in your place, and for that purpose I
shall endeavor to get wind of their plan of abduction. What I wish to do
is to shut out suspicion that we have fooled them until it is too late
for them to change their plans. Is there any one among your maids whom
you could trust to personate you, who is sufficiently like you in height
and color and so on to be mistaken for you by a stranger, knowing you
only by description or having only seen you once? She would of course be
dressed to represent you, and she must be sufficiently devoted to you to
take a risk and hold her tongue."
"Yes, my dressing-maid, Marie, might pass for me under such
circumstances, and I would answer for her stanchness."
"Tell her nothing until the time is close at hand. Then let her know
what has to be done. She will wear your dress and will be carried off;
you will slip away; and I shall go in a fine rage to von Nauheim to
frighten him from getting to see his captive, and thus discover the
trick. Your present task, then, will be to get ready for that part of
the scheme, and also to think of some safe place to which you can go."
"I will willingly do more, if it will help you," she said.
The completeness of her trust in me was apparent in every word she
spoke.
"There will be plenty of exciting work to follow," I replied, with a
smile, for I was pleased by her eagerness to help. "Your Majesty may
depend upon it that a throne is not to be gained without a struggle."
"I should make a poor Queen," she answered.
"You will make a beautiful one; and if the Bavarians once get sight of
you, they will not readily let you go."
She looked at me earnestly and, with half a sigh, said:
"You should not pay me empty compliments, cousin Hans. You should not
say things you do not mean."
"Perhaps it would be truer that I must not say all I do mean," I
returned, and for the moment my eyes spoke even more than my words; and
I made haste to add, in as light a tone as I could: "Your Majesty will
have at least one devoted subject, whatever may happen."
"I believe that with all my heart," she answered, in a tone and with a
look of confidence and trust that thrilled me. Then she smiled very
slightly, and added: "Even one subject may make a kingdom; though I'm
sadly afraid I should not be the ruler of even such a realm."
I longed to turn her jest to earnest, and assure her that if she did not
no one else ever should; but I pulled myself up on the verge, and
remembered that, after all, I was an impostor, though loyal enough to
her. And so I made no reply, and dared not even look at her.
After a pause she rose, and, with what sounded like a half-suppressed
sigh, she went away.
I let her go, and it was not until she had left the room that the
thought struck me that my silence might have seemed currish and
curmudgeonly. Then I would have gone after her and told her, and I made
a step toward the door; but the thought of what I should say and how to
explain my meaning stopped me, and as I hesitated Captain von Krugen
came in to resume the conference we had commenced during the drive from
the station.