TRUXTON TRESPASSES
He went to bed that night, tired and happy. To his revived spirits and
his new attitude toward life in its present state, the city had suddenly
turned gay and vivacious. Twice during the evening he passed Spantz's
shop. It was dark, upstairs and down. He wondered if the unhappy Olga
was looking at him from behind the darkened shutters. But even if she
were not--la, la! He was having a good time! He was gay! He was seeing
pretty women in the cafés and the gardens! Well, well, he would see her
to-morrow--after that he would give proper heed to the Baron's warning!
An anarchist's daughter!
He slept well, too, with never a thought of the Saturday express which
he had lain awake on other nights to lament and anathematise. Bright and
early in the morning he was astir. Somehow he felt he had been sleeping
too much of late.
There was a sparkle in his eyes as he struck out across town after
breakfast. He burst in upon Mr. Hobbs at Cook's.
"Say, Hobbs, how about the Castle to-day--in an hour, say? Can you take
a party of one rubbernecking this A.M.? I like you, Hobbs. You are the
best interpreter of English I've ever seen. I can't help understanding
you, no matter how hard I try not to. I want you to get me into the
Castle grounds to-day and show me where the duchesses dawdle and the
countesses cavort. I'm ashamed to say it, Hobbs, but since yesterday
I've quite lost interest in the middle classes and the component parts
thereof. I have suddenly acquired a thirst for champagne--in other
words, I have a hankering for the nobility. Catch the idea? Good! Then
you'll guide me into the land of the fairies? At ten?"
"I'll take you to the Castle grounds, Mr. King, all right enough, sir,
and I'll tell you all the things of interest, but I'll be 'anged, sir,
if I've got the blooming nerve to introduce you to the first ladies of
the land. That's more than I can ever 'ope to do, sir, and--"
"Lord bless you, Hobbs, don't look so depressed. I don't ask you to
present me at court. I just want to look at the lilacs and the
gargoyles. That's as far as I expect to carry my invasion of the dream
world."
"Of course, sir, you understand there are certain parts of the Park not
open to the public. The grotto and the playgrounds and the Basin of
Venus--"
"I'll not trespass, so don't fidget, Hobbs. I'll be here for you at
ten."
Mr. Hobbs looked after the vigorous, happy figure as it swung down the
street, and shook his head mournfully. Turning to the solitary clerk who
dawdled behind the cashier's desk he remarked with more feeling than was
his wont:
"He's just the kind of chap to get me into no end of trouble if I give
'im rope enough. Take it from me, Stokes, I'll have my hands full of 'im
up there this morning. He's charged like a soda bottle; and you never
know wot's going to happen unless you handle a soda bottle very
careful-like."
Truxton hurried to the square and across it to the shop of the armourer,
not forgetting, however, to look about in some anxiety for the excellent
Dangloss, who might, for all he knew, be snooping in the neighbourhood.
Spantz was at the rear of the shop, talking to a customer. The girl was
behind the counter, dressed for the street.
She came quickly out to him, a disturbed expression in her face. As he
doffed his hat, the smile left his lips; he saw that she had been
weeping.
"You must not come here, Mr. King," she said hurriedly, in low tones.
"Take your broadsword this morning and--please, for my sake, do not come
again. I--I may not explain why I am asking you to do this, but I mean
it for your good, more than for my own. My uncle will be out in a
moment. He knows you are here. He is listening now to catch what I am
saying to you. Smile, please, or he will suspect--"
"See here," demanded King, smiling, but very much in earnest, "what's
up? You've been crying. What's he been doing or saying to you? I'll give
him a--"
"No, no! Be sensible! It is nothing in which you could possibly take a
hand. I don't know you, Mr. King, but I am in earnest when I say that it
is not safe for you to come here, ostensibly to buy. It is too easily
seen through--it is--"
"Just a minute, please," he interrupted. "I've heard your story from
Baron Dangloss. It has appealed to me. You are not happy. Are you in
trouble? Do you need friends, Miss Platanova?"
"It is because you would be a friend that I ask you to stay away. You
cannot be my friend. Pray do not consider me bold for assuming so much.
But I know--I know _men_, Mr. King. The Baron has told you all about
me?" She smiled sadly. "Alas, he has only told you what he knows. But it
should be sufficient. There is no place in my life for you or any one
else. There never can be. So, you see, you may not develop your romance
with me as the foundation. Oh, I've heard of your quest of adventure. I
like you for it. I had an imagination myself, once on a time. I loved
the fairy books and the love tales. But not now-not now. There is no
romance for me. Nothing but grave reality. Do not question me! I can say
no more. Now I must be gone. I--I have warned you. Do not come again!"
"Thanks, for the warning," he said quietly. "But I expect to come in
occasionally, just the same. You've taken the wrong tack by trying to
frighten me off. You see, Miss Platanova, I'm actually looking for
something dangerous--if that's what you mean."
"That isn't all, believe me," she pleaded. "You can gain nothing by
coming. You know who I am. I cannot be a friend--not even an
acquaintance to you, Mr. King. Good-bye! Please do not come again!"
She slipped into the street and was gone. King stood in the doorway,
looking after her, a puzzled gleam in his eyes. Old Spantz was coming up
from the rear, followed by his customer.
"Queer," thought the American. "She's changed her tactics rather
suddenly. Smiled at me in the beginning and now cries a bit because I'm
trying to return the compliment. Well, by the Lord Harry, she shan't
scare me off like--Hello, Mr. Spantz! Good morning! I'm here for the
sword."
The old man glared at him in unmistakable displeasure. Truxton began
counting out his money. The customer, a swarthy fellow, passed out of
the door, turning to glance intently at the young man. A meaning look
and a sly nod passed between him and Spantz. The man halted at the
corner below and, later on, followed King to Cook's office, afterward to
the Castle gates, outside of which he waited until his quarry
reappeared. Until King went to bed late that night this swarthy fellow
was close at his heels, always keeping well out of sight himself.
"I'll come in soon to look at those rings," said King, placing the notes
on the counter. Spantz merely nodded, raked in the bills without
counting them, and passed the sword over to the purchaser.
"Very good, sir," he growled after a moment.
"I hate to carry this awful thing through the streets," said King,
looking at the huge weapon with despairing eye. Inwardly, he was cursing
himself for his extravagance and cupidity.
"It belongs to you, my friend. Take it or leave it."
"I'll take it," said Truxton, smiling indulgently. With that he picked
up the weapon and stalked away.
A few minutes later he was on his way to the Castle grounds, accompanied
by the short-legged Mr. Hobbs, who, from time to time, was forced to
remove his tight-fitting cap to mop a hot, exasperated brow, so swift
was the pace set by long-legs. The broadsword reposed calmly on a desk
under the nose of a properly impressed young person named Stokes,
cashier.
Hobbs led him through the great Park gates and up to the lodge of Jacob
Fraasch, the venerable high steward of the grounds. Here, to King's utter
disgust, he was booked as a plain Cook's tourist and mechanically
advised to pay strict attention to the rules which would be explained to
him by the guide.
"Cook's tourist, eh?" muttered King wrathfully as they ambled down the
shady path together. He looked with disparaging eye upon the plain
little chap beside him.
"It's no disgrace," growled Hobbs, redder than ever. "You're inside the
grounds and you've got to obey the rules, same as any tourist. Right
this way, sir; we'll take a turn just inside the wall. Now, on your
left, ladies and--ahem!--I should say--ahem!--sir, you may see the
first turret ever built on the wall. It is over four hundred years old.
On the right, we have--"
"See here, Hobbs," said King, stopping short, "I'm damned if I'll let
you lecture me as if I were a gang of hayseeds from Oklahoma."
"Very good, sir. No offence. I quite forgot, sir."
"Just _tell_ me--don't lecture."
For three-quarters of an hour they wandered through the spacious
grounds, never drawing closer to the Castle than permitted by the
restrictions; always coming up to the broad driveway which marked the
border line, never passing it. The gorgeous beauty of this historic old
park, so full of traditions and the lore of centuries, wrought strange
fancies and bold inclinations in the head of the audacious visitor. He
felt the bonds of restraint; he resented the irksome chains of
convention; he murmured against the laws that said he should not step
across the granite road into the cool forbidden world beyond--the world
of kings. Hobbs knew he was doomed to have rebellion on his hands before
long; he could see it coming.
"When we've seen the royal stables, we'll have seen everything of any
consequence," he hastened to say. "Then we'll leave by the upper gates
and--"
"Hobbs, this is all very beautiful and very grand and very slow," said
King, stopping to lean against the moss-covered wall that encircled the
park within a park: the grounds adjoining the grotto. "Can't I hop over
this wall and take a peep into the grotto?"
"By no means," cried Hobbs, horrified. "That, sir, is the most
proscribed spot, next to the Castle itself. You _can't_ go in there."
King looked over the low wall. The prospect was alluring. The pool, the
trickling rivulets, the mossy banks, the dense shadows: it was maddening
to think he could not enter!
"I wouldn't be in there a minute," he argued. "And I might catch a
glimpse of a dream-lady. Now, I say, Hobbs, here's a low place. I could
jump--"
"Mr. King, if you do that I am ruined forever. I am trusted by the
steward. He would cut off all my privileges--" Hobbs could go no
further. He was prematurely aghast. Something told him that Mr. King
would hop over the wall.
"Just this once, Hobbs," pleaded his charge. "No one will know."
"For the love of Moses, sir, I--" Hobbs began to wail. Then he groaned
in dismal horror. King had lightly vaulted the wall and was grinning
back at him from the sacred precincts--from the playground of
princesses.
"Go and report me, Hobbs, there's a good fellow. Tell the guards I
wouldn't obey. That will let you out, my boy, and I'll do the rest. For
Heaven's sake, Hobbs, don't burst! You'll explode sure if you hold in
like that much longer. I'll be back in a minute."
He strode off across the bright green turf toward the source of all this
enchantment, leaving poor Mr. Hobbs braced against the wall, weak-kneed
and helpless. If he heard the frantic, though subdued, whistles and the
agonized "hi!" of the man from Cook's a minute or two later, he gave no
heed to the warning. A glimpse behind might have shown him the error of
his ways, reflected in the disappearance of Hobbs's head below the top
of the wall. But he was looking ahead, drinking in the forbidden
beauties of this fascinating little nook of nature.
Never in all his wanderings had he looked upon a more inviting spot than
this. He came to the edge of the deep blue pool, above which could be
seen the entrance to the Grotto. Little rivulets danced down through the
crannies in the rocks and leaped joyously into the tree-shaded pool.
Below and to the right were the famed Basins of Venus, shimmering in the
sunlight, flanked by trees and banks of the softest green. On their
surface swam the great black swans he had heard so much about. Through a
wide rift in the trees he could see the great, grey Castle, half a mile
away, towering against the dense greens of the nearby mountain. The
picture took his breath away. He forgot Hobbs. He forgot that he was;
trespassing. Here, at last, was the Graustark he had seen in his dreams,
had come to feel in his imagination.
Regardless of surroundings or consequences, he sat down upon the nearest
stone bench, and removed his hat. He was hot and tired and the air was
cool. He would drink it in as if it were an ambrosial nectar in--and,
moreover, he would also enjoy a cigarette. Carefully he refrained from
throwing the burnt-out match into the pool below: even such as he could
feel that it might be desecration. As he leaned back with a sigh of
exquisite ease and a splendid exhalation of Turkish smoke, a small,
imperious voice from somewhere behind broke in upon his primary
reflections.
"What are you doing in here?" demanded the voice.
Truxton, conscious of guilt, whirled with as much consternation as if he
had been accosted by a voice of thunder. He beheld a very small boy
standing at the top of the knoll above him, not thirty feet away. His
face was quite as dirty as any small boy's should be at that time of
day, and his curly brown hair looked as if it had not been combed since
the day before. His firm little legs, in half hose and presumably white
knickers, were spread apart and his hands were in his pockets.
King recognised him at once, and looked about uneasily for the
attendants whom he knew should be near. It is safe to say that he came
to his feet and bowed deeply, even in humility.
"I am resting, your Highness," he said meekly.
"Don't you know any better than to come in here?" demanded the Prince.
Truxton turned very red.
"I am sorry. I'll go at once."
"Oh, I'm not going to put you out," hastily exclaimed the Prince, coming
down the slope. "But you are old enough to know better. The guards might
shoot you if they caught you here." He came quite close to the
trespasser. King saw the scratch on his nose. "Oh, I know you now. You
are the gentleman who picked up my crop yesterday. You are an American."
A friendly smile illumined his face.
"Yes, a lonely American," with an attempt at the pathetic.
"Where's your home at?"
"New York. Quite a distance from here."
"You ever been in Central Park?"
"A thousand times. It isn't as nice as this one."
"It's got amilies--no, I don't mean that," supplemented the Prince,
flushing painfully. "I mean--an-i-muls," very deliberately. "Our park
has no elephunts or taggers. When I get big I'm going to set out a few
in the park. They'll grow, all right."
"I've shot elephants and tigers in the jungle," said Truxton. "I tell
you they're no fun when they get after you, wild. If I were you I'd set
'em out in cages."
"P'raps I will." The Prince seemed very thoughtful.
"Won't you sit down, your Highness?"
The youngster looked cautiously about. "Say, do you ever go fishing?" he
demanded eagerly.
"Occasionally."
"You won't give me away, will you?" with a warning frown. "Don't you
tell Jacob Fraasch. He's the steward. I--I know a fine place to fish.
Would you mind coming along? Look out, please! You're awful big and
they'll see you. I don't know what they'd do to us if they ketched us.
It would be dreadful. Would you mind sneaking, mister? Make yourself
little. Right up this way."
The Prince led the way up the bank, followed by the amused American, who
stooped so admirably that the boy, looking back, whispered that it was
"just fine." At the top of the knoll, the Prince turned into a little
shrub-lined path leading down to the banks of the pool almost directly
below the rocky face of the grotto.
"Don't be afraid," he whispered to his new friend. "It ain't very deep,
if you should slip in. But you'd scare the fish away. Gee, it's a great
place to catch 'em. They're all red, too. D'you ever see red fish?"
Truxton started. This was no place for him! The Prince had a right to
poach on his own preserves, but a grown man to be caught in the act of
landing the royal goldfish was not to be thought of. He hung back.
"I'm afraid I won't have time, your Highness. A friend is waiting for me
back there. He--"
"It's right here," pleaded the Prince. "Please stop a moment. I--I don't
know how to put the bait on the pin. I just want to catch a couple. They
won't bite unless there's worms on the hook. I tried 'em. Look at 'em!
Goodness, there's lots of 'em. Nobody can see us here. Please, mister,
fix a worm for me."
The man sat down behind a bush and laughed joyously. The eager,
appealing look in the lad's eyes went to his heart. What was a goldfish
or two? A fish has no feeling--not even a goldfish. There was no
resisting the boyish eagerness.
"Why, you're a real boy, after all. I thought being a prince might have
spoiled you," he said.
"Uncle Jack says I can always be a prince, but I'll soon get over being
a boy," said Prince Bobby sagely. "You _will_ fix it, won't you?"
King nodded, conscienceless now. The Prince scurried behind a big rock
and reappeared at once with a willow branch from the end of which
dangled a piece of thread. A bent pin occupied the chief end in view. He
unceremoniously shoved the branch into the hands of his confederate, and
then produced from one of his pockets a silver cigarette box, which he
gingerly opened to reveal to the gaze a conglomerate mass of angle worms
and grubs.
"A fellow gets awful dirty digging for worms, doesn't he?" he
pronounced.
"I should say so," agreed the big boy. "Whose cigarette case is this?"
"Uncle Caspar's--I mean Count Halfont's. He's got another, so he won't
miss this one. I'm going to leave some worms in it when I put it back in
his desk. He'll think the fairies did it. Do you believe in fairies?"
"Certainly, Peter," said Truxton, engaged in impaling a stubborn worm.
"My name isn't Peter," said the Prince coldly.
"I was thinking of Peter Pan. Ever hear of him?"
"No. Say, you mustn't talk or you'll scare 'em away. Is it fixed?" He
took the branch and gingerly dropped the hook into the dancing pool. In
less time than it requires to tell it he had a nibble, a bite and a
catch. There never was a boy so excited as he when the scarlet nibbler
flew into the shrubbery above; he gasped with glee. Truxton recovered
the catch from the bushes and coolly detached the truculent pin.
"I'll have 'em for dinner," announced the Prince.
"Are you going to catch a mess?" queried the man, appalled.
"Sure," said Bobby, casting again with a resolute splash.
"Are you not afraid they'll get onto you if you take them to the
Castle?" asked the other diplomatically. "Goldfish are a dead
give-away."
"Nobody will scold 'cept Uncle Jack, and he won't know about it. He's
prob'ly gone away by this time." King noticed that his lip trembled
suddenly.
"Gone away?"
"Yes. He was banished this morning right after breakfast." The
announcement began with a tremor but ended with imperial firmness.
"Great Scott!" gasped the other, genuinely shocked.
"I banished him," said the Prince ruefully. "But," with a fine smile, "I
don't think he'll go. He never does. See my sign up there?" He pointed
to the rocks near the grotto. "I did it with Hugo's shoe blacking."
A placard containing the important announcement, "NO FISHING ALOUD"
stared down at the poachers from a tree trunk above. There was nothing
very peremptory in its appearance, but its designer was sufficiently
impressed by the craftiness it contained.
"I put it up so's people wouldn't think anybody--not even me--would dare
to fish here. Oh, look!" The second of his ruddy mess was flopping in
the grass. Again Truxton thought of Mr. Hobbs, this time with anxious
glances in all directions.
"Where do they think you are, your Highness?"
"Out walking with my aunt. Only she met Count Vos Engo, and while they
were talking I made a sneak--I mean, I stole away."
"Then they'll be searching for you in all parts of the--" began Truxton,
coming to his feet. "I really must be going. Please excuse me, your--"
"Oh, don't go! I'll not let 'em do anything to you," said the Prince
staunchly. "I like Americans better than anybody else," he went on with
deft persuasiveness. "They ain't--aren't afraid of anything. They're not
cowards."
Truxton sat down at once. He could not turn tail in the face of such an
exalted opinion.
"I'm not supposed to ever go out alone," went on the Prince
confidentially. "You see, they're going to blow me up if they get a
chance."
"Blow you up?"
"Haven't you heard about it? With dynamite bums--bombs. Yes, sir! That's
the way they do to all princes." He was quite unconcerned. Truxton's
look of horror diminished. No doubt it was a subterfuge employed to
secure princely obedience, very much as the common little boy is brought
to time by mention of the ubiquitous bogie man.
"That's too bad," commiserated Truxton, baiting the pin once more.
"It's old Count Marlanx. He's going to blow me up. He hated my mother
and my father, so I guess he hates me. He's turrible, Uncle Caspar
says."
King was very thoughtful for a moment. Something vivid yet fleeting had
shot through his brain--something that he tried to catch and analyse,
but it was gone before he could grasp its significance. He looked with
new interest upon this serene, lovable little chap, who was growing up,
like all princes, in the shadow of disaster.
Suddenly the fisherman's quick little ears caught a sound that caused
him to reveal a no-uncertain agitation. He dropped his rod incontinently
and crawled to the opening in the shrubbery, peering with alarmed eyes
down the path along the bank.
"What is it? A dynamiter?" demanded Truxton uneasily.
"Worse'n that," whispered his royal Highness. "It's Aunt Loraine. Gee!"
To King's utter dismay, the Prince scuttled for the underbrush.
"Here!" he called in consternation. The Prince stopped, shamefaced on
the instant. "I thought you were going to protect me."
"I shall," affirmed Bobby, manfully resuming his ground. "She's coming
up the path. Don't run," he exclaimed scornfully, as Truxton started for
the rocks. "She can't hurt you. She's only a girl."
"All right. I won't run," said the big culprit, who wished he had the
power to fly.
"And there's Saffo and Cors over there watching us, too. We're caught.
I'm sorry, mister."
On the opposite bank of the pool stood two rigid members of the Royal
Guard, intently watching the fishers. King was somewhat disturbed by the
fact that their rifles were in a position to be used at an instant's
notice. He felt himself turning pale as he thought of what might have
happened if he had taken to flight.
A young lady in a rajah silk gown, a flimsy panama hat tilted well over
her nose, with a red feather that stood erect as if always in a state of
surprise, turned the bushes and came to a stop almost at King's elbow.
He had time to note, in his confusion, that she was about shoulder-high
alongside him, and that she was staring up into his face with amazed
grey eyes. Afterward he was to realise that she was amazingly pretty,
that her teeth were very white and even, that her eyes were the most
beautiful and expressive he had ever seen, that she was slender and
imperious, and that there were dimples in her checks so fascinating that
he could not gather sufficient strength of purpose to withdraw his gaze
from them. Of course, he did not see them at the outset: she was not
smiling, so how could he?
The Prince came to the rescue. "This is my Aunt Loraine, Mr.--Mr.--" he
swallowed hard and looked helpless.
"King," supplied Truxton, "Truxton King, your Highness." Then with all
the courage he could produce, he said to the beautiful lady: "I'm as
guilty as he. See!" He pointed ruefully to the four goldfish, which he
had strung upon wire grass and dropped into the edge of the pool.
She did not smile. Indeed, she gave him a very severe look. "How cruel!"
she murmured. "Bobby, you deserve a sound spanking. You are a very
naughty little boy." She spoke rapidly in French.
"He put the bait on," said Bobby, also in French. Here was treachery!
Truxton delivered himself of some French. "Oh, I say, your Highness, you
said you'd pardon me if I were caught."
"I can't pardon you until you are found guilty," said the Prince in
English.
"Please put those poor little things back in the pool, Mr. King," said
the lady in perfect English.
"Gladly--with the Prince's permission," said King, also in English. The
Prince looked glum, but interposed no imperial objection. Instead he
suddenly shoved the cigarette box under the nose of his dainty relative,
who at that unpropitious instant stooped over to watch King's awkward
attempt to release the fishes.
"Look at the worms," said the Prince engagingly, opening the box with a
snap.
"Oh!" cried the young lady, starting back. "Throw them away! the horned
things!"
"Oh, they can't bite," scoffed the Prince. "See! I'm not afraid of 'em.
Look at this one." He held up a wriggler and she fled to the rock. She
happened to glance at Truxton's averted face and was conscious of a
broad grin; whereupon she laughed in the quick staccato of
embarrassment.
It must be confessed that King's composure was sorely disturbed. In the
first place, he had been caught in a most reprehensible act, and in the
second place, he was not quite sure that the Prince could save him from
ignominious expulsion under the very eyes--and perhaps direction--of
this trim and attractive member of the royal household. He found himself
blundering foolishly with the fishes and wondering whether she was a
duchess or just a plain countess. Even a regal personage might jump at
the sight of angle worms, he reflected.
He glanced up, to find her studying him, plainly perplexed.
"I just wondered in here," he began guiltily. "The Prince captured me
down there by the big tree."
"Did you say your name is Truxton King?" she asked somewhat sceptically.
"Yes, your--yes, ma'am," he replied. "Of New York."
"Your father is Mr. Emerson King? Are you the brother of Adele King?"
Truxton stared. "Have you been interviewing the police?" he asked before
he thought.
"The police? What have you been doing?" she cried, her eyes narrowing.
"Most everything. The police know all about me. I'm a spotted character.
I thought perhaps they had told you about me."
"I asked if you were Adele's brother."
"I am."
"I've heard her speak of her brother Truxton. She said you were in South
America."
He stared the harder. Could he believe his ears?
She was regarding him with cool, speculative interest. "I wonder if you
are he?"
"I think I am," he said, but doubtfully. "Please pardon my amazement.
Perhaps I'm dreaming. At any rate, I'm dazed."
"We were in the convent together for two years. Now that I observe you
closely, you _do_ resemble her. We were very good friends, she and I."
"Then you'll intercede for me?" he urged, with a fervent glance in the
direction of the wall.
She smiled joyously. He realised then and there that he had never seen
such beautiful teeth, nor any creature so radiantly beautiful, for that
matter.
"More than that," she said, "I shall assist you to escape. Come!"
He followed her through the shrubbery, his heart pounding violently. The
Prince, who trotted on ahead, had mentioned a Count. Was she married?
Was she of the royal blood? What extraordinary fate had made her the
friend of his sister? He looked back and saw the two guardsmen crossing
the bridge below, their eyes still upon him.
"It's very good of you," he said. She glanced back at him, a quaint
smile in her eyes.
"For Adele's sake, if you please. Trespassing is a very serious offence
here. How did you get in?"
"I hopped in, over the wall."
"I'd suggest that you do not hop out again. Hopping over the walls is
not looked upon with favour by the guards."
He recalled the distressed Mr. Hobbs. "The man from Cook's tried to
restrain me," he said in proper spirit. "He was very much upset."
"I dare say. You are a Cook's tourist, I see. How very interesting!
Bobby, Uncle Jack is waiting to take you to see the trained dogs at the
eastern gate."
The Prince gave a whoop of joy, but instantly regained his dignity.
"I can't go, auntie, until I've seen him safe outside the walls," he
said firmly. "I said I would."
They came to the little gate and passed through, into a winding path
that soon brought them to a wide, main-travelled avenue. A light broke
in upon Truxton's mind. He had it! This was the wonderful Countess
Marlanx! No sooner had he come to that decision than he was forced to
abandon it. The Countess's name was Ingomede and she already had been
pointed out to him.
"I suppose I shall have to recall Uncle Jack from exile," he heard the
Prince saying to the beautiful lady. Truxton decided that she was not
more than twenty-two. But they married very young in these queer old
countries--especially if they happened to be princes or princesses. He
wanted to talk, to ask questions, to proclaim his wonder, but discreetly
resolved that it was best to hold his tongue. He was by no means sure of
himself.
Be that as it may, he was filled with a strange rejoicing. Here was a
woman with whom he was as sure to fall in love as he was sure that the
sun shone. He liked the thought of it. Now he appreciated the
distinction between the Olga Platanova type and that which represented
the blood of kings. There _was_ a difference! Here was the true
Patrician!
The Castle suddenly loomed up before them--grey and frowning, not more
than three hundred yards away. He was possessed of a wild desire to walk
straight into the grim old place and proclaim himself the feudal owner,
seizing everything as his own--particularly the young woman in the rajah
silk. People were strolling in the shady grounds. He felt the instant
infection of happy indolence, the call to luxury. Men in gay uniforms
and men in cool flannels; women in the prettiest and daintiest of
frocks--all basking in the playtime of life, unmindful of the toil that
fell to the Sons of Martha out in the sordid world.
"Do you think you can find your man from Cook's?" she asked.
"Unless he has gone and jumped into the river, your--madam. In any
event, I think I may safely find my way out. I shall not trouble you to
go any farther. Thank you for overlooking my indiscretion. Thank you, my
dear little Prince, for the happiest experience of my life. I shall
never forget this hour." He looked boldly into her eyes, and not at the
Prince. "Have you ever been in New York?" he asked abruptly.
He was not at all sure whether the look she gave him was one of
astonishment or resentment. At any rate, it was a quick glance, followed
by the palpable suppression of words that first came to her lips, and
the substitution of a very polite:
"Yes, and I love it." He beamed. The smile that came into her eyes
escaped him. If he could have seen it, his bewilderment; would have been
sadly increased.
"Say!" whispered the Prince, dropping back as if to impart a grave
secret. "See that man over there by the fountain, Mr. King?"
"Bobby!" cried the lady sharply. "Good-bye, Mr. King. Remember me to
your sister when you write. She--"
"That's Aunt Loraine's beau," announced the Prince.
"That's Count Eric Vos Engo." Truxton's look turned to one of interest
at once. The man designated was a slight, swarthy fellow in the uniform
of a colonel. He did not appear to be particularly happy at the moment.
The American observed the lady's dainty ears. They had turned a delicate
pink.
"May I ask who--" began Truxton timidly.
"She will know if you merely call me Loraine."
"So long," said the Prince.
They parted company at once, the Prince and the lady in the rajah silk
going toward the Castle, King toward the gates, somewhat dazed and by no
means sure of his senses. He came down to earth after he had marched
along on air for some distance, so to speak, and found himself deciding
that she was a duchess here, but Loraine at school. What a wonderful
place a girl's school must be! And his sister knew her--knew a lady of
high degree!
"Hobbs!" he called, catching sight of a dejected figure in front of the
chief steward's door.
"Oh, it's you, is it?" said Mr. Hobbs sullenly.
"It is, Hobbs--very much me. I've been fishing with royalty and chatting
with the nobility. Where the devil have _you_ been?"
"I've been squaring it with old man Fraasch. I'm through with you, sir.
No more for me, not if I know--"
"Come along, Hobbs," said the other blithely, taking Hobbs by the arm.
"The Prince sent his love to you."
"Did he mention Cook's?" gasped Hobbs.
"He certainly did," lied Truxton. "He spoke of you most kindly. He
wondered if you could find time to come around to-morrow."