MANY PERSONS IN REVIEW
Truxton King witnessed the review of the garrison. That in itself was
rather a tame exhibition for a man who had seen the finest troops in all
the world. A thousand earnest looking soldiers, proud of the opportunity
to march before the little Prince--and that was all, so far as the
review was concerned.
But, alluringly provident to the welfare of this narrative, the red and
black uniformed soldiers were not the only persons on review that balmy
day in July. Truxton King had his first glimpse of the nobility of
Graustark. He changed his mind about going to Vienna on the Saturday
express. A goodly number of men before him had altered their humble
plans for the same reason, I am reliably informed.
Mr. King saw the court in all its glory, scattered along the shady
Castle Avenue--in carriages, in traps, in motors and in the saddle. His
brain whirled and his heart leaped under the pressure of a new-found
interest in life. The unexpected oasis loomed up before his eyes just as
he was abandoning all hope in the unprofitable desert of Romance. He saw
green trees and sparkling rivulets, and he sighed with a new, strange
content. No, on second thoughts, he would not go to Vienna. He would
stay in Edelweiss. He was a disciple of Micawber; and he was so much
younger and fresher than that distinguished gentleman, that perhaps he
was justified in believing that, in his case, something was bound to
"turn up."
If Truxton King had given up in disgust and fled to Vienna, this tale
would never have come to light. Instead of being the lively narrative of
a young gentleman's adventures in far-away Graustark, it might have
become a tale of the smart set in New York--for, as you know, we are
bound by tradition to follow the trail laid down by our hero, no matter
which way he elects to fare. Somewhat dismayed by his narrow escape, he
confided to his friend from Cook's that he could never have forgiven
himself if he had adhered to his resolution to leave on the following
day.
"I didn't know you'd changed your mind, sir," remarked Mr. Hobbs in
surprise.
"Of course you didn't know it," said Truxton. "How could you? I've just
changed it, this instant. I didn't know it myself two minutes ago. No,
sir, Hobbs--or is it Dobbs? Thanks--no, sir, I'm going to stop here for
a--well, a week or two. Where the dickens do these people keep
themselves? I haven't seen 'em before."
"Oh, they are the nobility--the swells. They don't hang around the
streets like tourists and rubbernecks, sir," in plain disgust.
"I thought you were an Englishman," observed King, with a quizzical
smile.
"I am, sir. I can't help saying rubbernecks, sir, though it's a shocking
word. It's the only name for them, sir. That's what the little Prince
calls them, too. You see, it's one form of amusement they provide for
him, and I am supposed to help it along as much as possible. Mr. Tullis
takes him out in the avenue whenever I've got a party in hand. I
telephone up to the Castle that I've got a crowd and then I drive 'em
out to the Park here. The Prince says he just loves to watch the
rubbernecks go by. It's great fun, sir, for the little lad. He never
misses a party, and you can believe it or not, he has told me so
himself. Yes, sir, the Prince has had more than one word with me--from
time to time." King looked at the little man's reddish face and saw
therein the signs of exaltation indigenous to a land imperial.
He hesitated for an instant and then remarked, with a mean impulse to
spoil Hobbs's glorification: "I have dined with the President of the
United States."
Hobbs was politely unimpressed. "I've no doubt, sir," he said. "I
daresay it was an excellent dinner."
King blinked his eyes and then turned them upon the passing show. He was
coming to understand the real difference between men.
"I say, who is that just passing--the lady in the victoria?" he asked
abruptly.
"That is the Countess Marlanx."
"Whew! I thought she was the queen!"
Hobbs went into details concerning the beautiful Countess. During the
hour and a half of display he pointed out to King all of the great
personages, giving a Baedeker-like account of their doings from
childhood up, quite satisfying that gentleman's curiosity and involving
his cupidity at the same time.
When, at last, the show was over, Truxton and the voluble little
interpreter, whom he had employed for the occasion, strolled leisurely
back to the heart of the town. Something had come over King, changing
the quaint old city from a prosaic collection of shops and thoroughfares
into a veritable playground for Cinderellas and Prince Charmings. The
women, to his startled imagination, had been suddenly transformed from
lackadaisical drudges into radiant personages at whose feet it would be
a pleasure to fall, in whose defence it would be divine to serve; the
men were the cavaliers that had called to him from the pages of
chivalrous tales, ever since the days of his childhood. Here were
knights and ladies such as he had dreamed of and despaired of ever
seeing outside his dreams.
Hobbs was telling him how every one struggled to provide amusement for
the little Prince at whose court these almost mythological beings bent
the knee. "Every few days they have a royal troupe of acrobats in the
Castle grounds. Next week Tantora's big circus is to give a private
performance for him. There are Marionettes and Punch and Judy shows, and
all the doings of the Grand Grignol are beautifully imitated. The royal
band plays every afternoon, and at night some one tells him stories of
the valorous men who occupied the throne before him. He rides, plays
baseball and cricket, swims, goes shooting--and, you may take it from
me, sir, he is already enjoying fencing lessons with Colonel Quinnox,
chief of the Castle guard. Mr. Tullis, the American, has charge of
his--you might say, his education and entertainment. They want to make
of him a very wonderful Prince. So they are starting at the bottom. He's
quite a wonderful little chap. What say, sir?"
"I was just going to ask if you know anything about a young woman who
occasionally tends shop for William Spantz, the armourer."
Hobbs looked interested. "She's quite a beauty, sir, I give you my
word."
"I know that, Hobbs. But who is she?"
"I really can't say, sir. She's his niece, I've heard. Been here a
little over a month. I think she's from Warsaw."
"Well, I'll say good-bye here. If you've nothing on for to-morrow we'll
visit the Castle grounds and--ahem!--take a look about the place. Come
to the hotel early. I'm going over to the gun-shop. So long!" As he
crossed the square, his mind full of the beautiful women he had seen,
he was saying to himself in a wild strain of exhilaration: "I'll bet my
head that girl isn't the nobody she's setting herself up to be. She
looks like these I've just seen. She's got the marks of a lady. You
can't fool me. I'm going to find out who she is and--well, maybe it
won't be so dull here, after all. It looks better every minute."
He was whistling gaily as he entered the little shop, ready to give a
cheery greeting to old Spantz and to make him a temporising offer for
the broadsword. But it was not Spantz who stood behind the little
counter. Truxton flushed hotly and jerked off his hat. The girl smiled.
"I beg pardon," he exclaimed. "I--I'm looking for Mr. Spantz--I--"
"He is out. Will you wait? He will return in a very few minutes." Her
voice was clear and low, her accent charming. The smile in her eyes
somehow struck him as sad, even fleeting in its attempt at mirth. As she
spoke, it disappeared altogether and an almost sombre expression came
into her face.
"Thanks. I'll--wait," he said, suddenly embarrassed. She turned to the
window, resuming the wistful, preoccupied gaze down the avenue. He made
pretence of inspecting the wares on the opposite wall, but covertly
watched her out of the corner of his eye. Perhaps, calculated he, if she
were attired in the gown of one of those fashionables she might rank
with the noblest of them in beauty and delicacy. Her dark little head
was carried with all the serene pride of a lady of quality; her features
were clear cut, mobile, and absolutely flawless. He was sure of that:
his sly analysis was not as casual as one might suppose under the
circumstances. As a matter of fact, he found himself having what he
afterward called "a very good look at her." She seemed to have forgotten
his presence. The longer he looked at the delicate profile, the more
fully was he convinced that she was not all that she pretended. He
experienced a thrill of hope. If she wasn't what she pretended to be,
then surely she must be what he wanted her to be--a lady of quality. In
that case there was a mystery. The thought restored his temerity.
"Beg pardon," he said, politely sauntering up to the little counter. He
noted that she was taller than he had thought, and slender. She started
and turned toward him with a quick, diffident smile, her dark eyes
filling with an unspoken apology. "I wanted to have another look at the
broadsword there. May I get it out of the window, or will you?"
Very quickly--he noticed that she went about it clumsily despite her
supple gracefulness--she withdrew the heavy weapon from the window and
laid it upon the counter. He was looking at her with a peculiar smile
upon his lips. She flushed painfully.
"I am not--not what you would call an expert," she said frankly.
"You mean in handling broadswords," he said in his most suave manner.
"It's a cunning little thing, isn't it?" He picked up the ponderous
blade. "I don't wonder you nearly dropped it on your toes."
"There must have been giants in those days," she said, a slight shudder
passing over her.
"Whoppers," he agreed eagerly. "I've thought somewhat of buying the old
thing. Not to use, of course. I'm not a giant."
"You're not a pigmy," she supplemented, her eyes sweeping his long
figure comprehensively.
"What's the price?" he asked, his courage faltering under the cool,
impersonal gaze.
"I do not know. My uncle has told you?"
"I--I think he did. But I've got a wretched memory when it comes to
broadswords."
She laughed. "This is such a very old broadsword, too," she said. "It
goes back beyond the memory of man."
"How does it come that you don't know the price?" he asked, watching her
narrowly. She met his inquiring look with perfect composure.
"I am quite new at the trade. I hope you will excuse my ignorance. My
uncle will be here in a moment." She was turning away with an air that
convinced King of one thing: she was a person who, in no sense, had ever
been called upon to serve others.
"So I've heard," he observed. The bait took effect. She looked up
quickly; he was confident that a startled expression flitted across her
face.
"You have heard? What have you heard of me?" she demanded.
"That you are new at the business," he replied coolly.
"You are a stranger in a strange land, so they say."
"You have been making inquiries?" she asked, disdain succeeding dismay.
"Tentatively, that's all. Ever since you peeked out of the window up
there and laughed at me. I'm curious, you see."
She stared at him in silent intensity for a moment. "That's why I
laughed at you. You were _very_ curious."
"Am I so bad as all that?" he lamented.
She ignored the question. "Why should you be interested in me, sir?"
Mr. King was inspired to fabricate in the interest of psychical
research. "Because I have heard that you are not the niece of old man
Spantz." He watched intently to catch the effect of the declaration.
She merely stared at him; there was not so much as the flutter of an
eyelid. "You have heard nothing of the kind," she said coldly.
"Well, I'll confess I haven't," he admitted cheerfully. "I was
experimenting. I'm an amateur Sherlock Holmes. It pleases me to deduce
that you are not related to the armourer. You don't look the part."
Now she smiled divinely. "And why not, pray? His sister was my mother."
"In order to establish a line on which to base my calculations, would
you mind telling me who your father is?" He asked the question with his
most appealing smile--a smile so frankly impudent that she could not
resent it.
"My mother's husband," she replied in the same spirit.
"Well, that is _quite_ a clue!" he exclaimed. "'Pon my soul, I believe
I'm on the right track. Excuse me for continuing, but is he a count or a
duke or just a--"
"My father is dead," she interrupted, without taking her now serious
gaze from his face.
"I beg your pardon," he said at once. "I'm sorry if I've hurt you."
"My mother is dead. Now can you understand why I am living here with my
uncle? Even an amateur may rise to that. Now, sir, do you expect to
purchase the sword? If not, I shall replace it in the window."
"That's what I came here for," said he, resenting her tone and the icy
look she gave him.
"I gathered that you came in the capacity of Sherlock Holmes--or
something else." She added the last three words with unmistakable
meaning.
"You mean as a--" he hesitated, flushing.
"You knew I was alone, sir."
"By Jove, you're wrong there. I give you my word, I didn't. If I'd known
it, I'd surely have come in sooner. There, forgive me. I'm particularly
light-headed and futile to-day, and I hope--Beg pardon?"
She was leaning toward him, her hands on the counter, a peculiar gleam
in her dark eyes--which now, for the first time, struck him as rather
more keen and penetrating than he had suspected before.
"I simply want to tell you, Mr. King, that unless you really expect to
buy this sword it is not wise in you to make it an excuse for coming
here."
"My dear young lady, I--"
"My uncle has a queer conception of the proprieties. He may think that
you come to see me." A radiant smile leaped into her face, transforming
its strange sombreness into absolutely impish mirth.
"Well, hang it all, he can't object to that, can he? Besides, I never
buy without haggling," he expostulated, suddenly exhilarated, he knew
not why.
"Don't come in here unless you expect to buy," she said, serious in an
instant. "It isn't the custom in Edelweiss. Young men may chat with
shopgirls all the world over--but in Edelweiss, no--unless they come to
pay most honourable court to them. My uncle would not understand."
"I take it, however, that you would understand," he said boldly.
"I have lived in Vienna, in Paris and in London. But now I am living in
Edelweiss. I have not been a shopgirl always."
"I can believe that. My deductions are justified."
"Pray forgive me for offering this bit of advice. A word to the wise.
My uncle would close the door in your face if--if he thought--"
"I see. Well, I'll buy the blooming sword. Anyhow, that's what I came in
for."
"No. You came in because I smiled at you from the window upstairs. It is
my sitting-room."
"Why did you smile? Tell me?" eagerly.
"It was nature asserting itself."
"You mean you just couldn't help it?"
"That's precisely what I mean."
"Not very complimentary, I'd say."
"A smile is ever a compliment, sir."
"I say, do you know you interest me?" he began warmly, but she put her
finger to her lips.
"My uncle is returning. I must not talk to you any longer." She glanced
uneasily out upon the square, and then hurriedly added, a certain
wistfulness in her voice and eyes. "I couldn't help it to-day. I forgot
my place. But you are the first gentleman I've spoken to since I came
here."
"I--I was afraid you might think I am not a gentleman. I've been rather
fresh."
"I happen to have known many gentlemen. Before I went into--service, of
course." She turned away abruptly, a sudden shadow crossing her face.
Truxton King exulted. At last he was touching the long-sought trail of
the Golden Girl! Here was Romance! Here was mystery!
Spantz was crossing the sidewalk. The American leaned forward and
half-whispered: "Just watch me buy that broadsword. I may, in time, buy
out the shop, piece by piece."
She smiled swiftly. "Let me warn you: don't pay his price."
"Thanks."
When Spantz entered the door, a moment later, the girl was gazing
listlessly from the window and Truxton King was leaning against the
counter with his back toward her, his arms folded and a most impatient
frown on his face.
"Hello!" he said gruffly. "I've been waiting ten minutes for you."
Spantz's black eyes shot from one to the other. "What do you want?" he
demanded sharply. As he dropped his hat upon a stool near, the door, his
glance again darted from the man to the girl and back again.
"The broadsword. And, say, Mr. Spantz, you might assume a different tone
in addressing me. I'm a customer, not a beggar."
The girl left the window and walked slowly to the rear of the shop,
passing through the narrow door, without so much as a glance at King or
the old man. Spantz was silent until she was gone.
"You want the broadsword, eh?" he asked, moderating his tone
considerably. "It's a rare old--"
"I'll give you a hundred dollars-not another cent," interrupted King,
riot yet over his resentment. There followed a long and irritating
argument, at the conclusion of which Mr. King became the possessor of
the weapon at his own price. Remembering himself in time, he fell to
admiring some old rings and bracelets in a cabinet near by, thus paving
the way for future visits.
"I'll come in again," he said indifferently.
"But you are leaving to-morrow, sir."
"I've changed my mind."
"You are not going?"
"Not for a few days."
"Then you have discovered something in Edelweiss to attract you?"
grinned the old armourer. "I thought you might."
"I've had a glimpse of the swells, my good friend."
"It's all the good you'll get of it," said Spantz gruffly.
"I daresay you're right. Clean that sword up a bit for me, and I'll drop
in to-morrow and get it. Here's sixty gavvos to bind the bargain. The
rest on delivery. Good day, Mr. Spantz."
"Good day, Mr. King."
"How do you happen to know my name?"
Spantz put his hand over his heart and delivered himself of a most
impressive bow. "When so distinguished a visitor comes to our little
city," he said, "we lose no time in discovering his name. It is a part
of our trade, sir, believe me."
"I'm not so sure that I do believe you," said Truxton King to himself as
he sauntered up the street toward the Hotel. "The girl knew me, too, now
that I come to think of it. Heigho! By Jove, I _do_ hope I can work up a
little something to interest--Hello!"
Mr. Hobbs, from Cook's, was at his elbow, his eyes glistening with
eagerness.
"I say, old Dangloss is waiting for you at the Regengetz, sir. Wot's up?
Wot you been up to, sir?"
"Up to? Up to, Hobbs?"
"My word, sir, you must have been or he wouldn't be there to see you."
"Who is Dangloss?"
"Minister of Police--haven't I told you? He's a keen one, too, take my
word for it. He's got Sherlock beat a mile."
"So have I, Hobbs. I'm not slow at Sherlocking, let me tell you that.
How do you know he's waiting to see me?"
"I heard him ask for you. And I was there just now when one of his men
came in and told him you were on your way up from the gunshop down
there."
"So they're watching me, eh? 'Gad, this is fine!"
He lost no time in getting to the hotel. A well-remembered,
fierce-looking little man in a white linen suit was waiting for him on
the great piazza.
Baron Jasto Dangloss was a polite man but not to the point of
procrastination. He advanced to meet the puzzled American, smiling
amiably and twirling his imposing mustachios with neatly gloved fingers.
"I have called, Mr. King, to have a little chat with you about your
father," he said abruptly. He enjoyed the look of surprise on the young
man's face.
"My father?" murmured Truxton, catching his breath. He was shaking hands
with the Baron, all the while staring blankly into his twinkling,
snapping eyes.
"Won't you join me at this table? A julep will not be bad, eh?" King sat
down opposite to him at one of the piazza tables, in the shade of the
great trailing vines.
"Fine," was his only comment.
A waiter took the order and departed. The Baron produced his cigarette
case. King carefully selected one and tapped its tip on the back of his
hand.
"Is--has anything happened to my father?" he asked quietly. "Bad news?"
"On the contrary, sir, he is quite well. I had a cablegram from him
to-day."
"A cablegram?"
"Yes. I cabled day before yesterday to ask if he could tell me the
whereabouts of his son."
"The deuce you say!"
"He replies that you are in Teheran."
"What is the meaning of this, Baron?"
"It is a habit I have. I make it a practice to keep in touch with the
movements of our guests."
"I see. You want to know all about me; why I'm here, where I came from,
and all that. Well, I'm ready for the 'sweat box.'"
"Pray do not take offence. It is my rule. It would not be altered if the
King of England came. Ah, here are the juleps. Quick service, eh?"
"Remarkably so, due to your powers of persuasion, I fancy."
"I really ordered them a few minutes before you arrived. You see, I was
quite certain you'd have one. You take one about this hour every day."
"By Jove, you have been watching me!" cried Truxton delightedly.
"What are you doing in Edelweiss, Mr. King?" asked the Baron abruptly
but not peremptorily.
"Sight-seeing and in search of adventure," was the prompt response.
"I fancied as much. You've seen quite a bit of the world since you left
home two years ago, on the twenty-seventh of September."
"By Jove!"
"Been to South Africa, Asia and--South America--to say nothing of
Europe. That must have been an exciting little episode in South
America."
"You don't mean to say--"
"Oh, I know all about your participation in the revolution down there.
You were a captain, I understand, during the three weeks of disturbance.
Splendid! For the fun of the thing, I suppose. Well, I like it in you. I
should have done it myself. And you got out of the country just in time,
if I remember rightly. There was a price placed on your head by the
distressed government. I imagine they would have shot you if they could
have caught you--as they did the others." The old man chuckled. "You
don't expect to return to South America, do you? The price is still
offered, you know."
King was glaring at him in sheer wonder. Here was an episode in his life
that he fondly hoped might never come to light; he knew how it would
disturb his mother. And this foxy old fellow away off here in Graustark
knew all about it.
"Well, you're a wonder!" in pure admiration.
"An appreciated compliment, I assure you. This is all in the way of
letting you know that we have found out something concerning your
movements. Now, to come down to the present. You expected to leave
to-morrow. Why are you staying over?"
"Baron, I leave that to your own distinguished powers of deduction,"
said Truxton gently. He took a long pull at the straw, watching the
other's face as he did so. The Baron smiled.
"You have found the young lady to be very attractive," observed the
Baron. "Where have you known her before?"
"I beg pardon?"
"It is not unusual for a young man in search of adventure to follow the
lady of his choice from place to place. She came but recently, I
recall."
"You think I knew her before and followed her to Edelweiss?"
"I am not quite sure whether you have been in Warsaw lately. There is a
gap in your movements that I can't account for."
King became serious at once. He saw that it was best to be frank with
this keen old man.
"Baron Dangloss, I don't know just what you are driving at, but I'll
set you straight so far as I'm concerned. I never saw that girl until
the day before yesterday. I never spoke to her until to-day."
"She smiled on you quite familiarly from her window casement
_yesterday_," said Dangloss coolly.
"She laughed at me, to be perfectly candid. But what's all this about?
Who is she? What's the game? I don't mind confessing that I have a
feeling she is not what she claims to be, but that's as far as I've
got."
Dangloss studied the young man's face for a moment and then came to a
sudden decision. He leaned forward and smiled sourly.
"Take my advice: do not play with fire," he said enigmatically.
"You--you mean she's a dangerous person? I can't believe that, Baron."
"She has dangerous friends out in the world. I don't mean to say she
will cause you any trouble here--but there is a hereafter. Mind you, I'm
not saying she isn't a good girl, or even an adventuress. On the
contrary, she comes of an excellent family--in fact, there were noblemen
among them a generation or two ago. You know her name?"
"No. I say, this is getting interesting!" He was beaming.
"She is Olga Platanova. Her mother was married in this city twenty-five
years ago to Professor Platanova of Warsaw. The Professor was executed
last year for conspiracy. He was one of the leaders of a great
revolutionary movement in Poland. They were virtually anarchists, as you
have come to place them in America. This girl, Olga, was his secretary.
His death almost killed her. But that is not all. She had a sweetheart
up to fifteen months ago. He was a prince of the royal blood. He would
have married her in spite of the difference in their stations had it not
been for the intervention of the Crown that she and her kind hate so
well. The young man's powerful relatives took a hand in the affair. He
was compelled to marry a scrawny little duchess, and Olga was warned
that if she attempted to entice him away from his wife she would be
punished. She did not attempt it, because she is a virtuous girl--of
that I am sure. But she hates them all--oh, how she hates them! Her
uncle, Spantz, offered her a home. She came here a month ago,
broken-spirited and sick. So far, she has been exceedingly respectful to
our laws. It is not that we fear anything from her; but that we are
obliged to watch her for the benefit of our big brothers across the
border. Now you know why I advised you to let the fire alone."
King was silent for a moment, turning something over in his head.
"Baron, are you sure that she is a Red?"
"Quite. She attended their councils."
"She doesn't look it, 'pon my word. I thought they were the scum of the
earth."
"The kind you have in America are. But over here--oh, well, we never can
tell."
"I don't mind saying she interests me. She's pretty--and I have an idea
she's clever. Baron, let me understand you. Do you mean that this is a
polite way of commanding me to have nothing to do with her?"
"You put it broadly. In the first place, I am quite sure she will have
nothing to do with you. She loved the husband of the scrawny duchess.
_You_, my good friend, handsome as you are, cannot interest her, believe
me."
"I daresay you're right," glumly.
"I am merely warning you. Young men of your age and temperament
sometimes let their fancies lead them into desperate predicaments. I've
no doubt you can take care of yourself, but--" he paused, as if very
much in doubt.
"I'm much obliged. And I'll keep my eyes well opened. I suppose there's
no harm in my going to the shop to look at a lot of rings and
knick-knacks he has for sale?"
"Not in the least. Confine yourself to knick-knacks, that's all."
"Isn't Spantz above suspicion?"
"No one is in my little world. By the way, I am very fond of your
father. He is a most excellent gentleman and a splendid shot."
Truxton stared harder than ever. "What's that?"
"I know him quite well. Hunted wild boars with him five years ago in
Germany. And your sister! She was a beautiful young girl. They were at
Carlsbad at the time. Was she quite well when you last heard?"
"She was," was all that the wondering brother could say.
"Well, come in and see me at the tower. I am there in the mornings. Come
as a caller, not as a prisoner, that's all." The Baron cackled at his
little jest. "_Au revoir!_ Till we meet again." They were shaking hands
in the friendliest manner. "Oh, by the way, you were good enough to
change your mind to-day about the personal attractiveness of our ladies.
Permit me to observe, in return, that not a few of our most
distinguished beauties were good enough to make inquiries as to your
identity."
He left the American standing at the head of the steps, gazing after his
retreating figure with a look of admiration in his eyes.
Truxton fared forth into the streets that night with a greater zest in
life than he had ever known before. Some thing whispered insistently to
his fancy that dreariness was a thing of the past; he did not have to
whistle to keep up his spirits. They were soaring of their own accord.
He did not know, however, that a person from the secret service was
watching his every movement. Nor, on the other hand, is it at all likely
that the secret service operative was aware that he was not the only
shadower of the blithe young stranger.
A man with a limp cigarette between his lips was never far from the side
of the American--a man who had stopped to pass the time of day with
William Spantz, and who, from that hour was not to let the young man out
of his sight until another relieved him of the task.