Donovan was, I believe, relieved when he heard that he could not buy
the whole kingdom of Megalia. The price would have been enormous, but
he would not have hesitated to pay it if, by paying, he would have got
what he wanted. The more he looked into the business of kingship, the
less he liked it. The idea of Court etiquette worried him. Donovan
disliked dressing for dinner, a form of activity to which he was
unaccustomed. He got it into his head that the father of the reigning
monarch in a state like Megalia might be called on to wear uniforms,
troublesome things with unusual buttons and straps, and change them
two or three times a day. He feared that such a combination of
exertion and worry would still further disorder the action of his
heart. He saw no prospect of quiet indolence among a people which went
in for revolutions as a pastime. Salissa, on the other hand, seemed
almost an ideal spot. There were not likely to be any regular postal
arrangements. There was certainly no cable. Since there were less than
a hundred inhabitants a liberal pension could be given to each.
Pensioners are notoriously peaceful and unobtrusive people.
Miss Daisy was a little disappointed at first; but only at first. Once
she hit on the idea that her kingdom would be the "dinkiest" in
Europe, indeed in the world, she was pleased. The negotiations were
rushed through at a pace which struck even Gorman as indecent. But
everybody concerned was in a hurry. Konrad Karl was afraid that the
Emperor might hear of the sale through the Megalian ambassador in
London. But that gentleman--he was a Count, I think--was under the
influence, probably in the pay of the Emperor, and had been instructed
to ignore King Konrad Karl as much as possible. He heard nothing about
the matter. Madame Ypsilante was in a hurry for obvious reasons. Miss
Daisy Donovan had looked at the pearl necklace two or three times, and
there was a horrible possibility that she might regard it as a
suitable ornament for a queen. Miss Daisy was eager to see her island
kingdom as soon as possible. Donovan himself was finding London less
restful than ever. He wanted to get the Salissa business settled out
of hand.
It was settled early in April. I never heard the exact date of the
signing of the papers, but April the 1st would have been appropriate.
An immense document was drawn up by a solicitor, a cousin of Gorman's
who lived in a small west of Ireland town. Gorman said he gave the job
to this particular man because no London lawyer would have kept the
matter secret. My own impression is that no London solicitor would
have undertaken the job at all. There cannot be any recognized legal
form for the sale of kingdoms. However, Gorman's cousin did his work
excellently. The document looked well. He attached eight enormous
seals to it, and he had several of the most important clauses
translated into Latin. It must have been as good as it looked.
Later on nearly every ambassador in Europe had a look at the
"instrument"--Gorman called it an instrument sometimes, sometimes a
protocol--and they were all baffled. The American ambassador in
Megalia offered Gorman's cousin a post in the U. S. A. diplomatic
service, a high testimonial to his abilities. Miss Daisy and her heirs
became the independent sovereigns of the Island of Salissa. Donovan
promised to pay down the purchase money as soon as he was satisfied
that the island really existed. The most Gorman could screw out of him
in the way of an advance was L5,000.
The evening after the "instrument" was signed, Gorman had a visit from
Goldsturmer, the well-known jeweller. The man, a rather unctuous, but
very suave and polite German Jew, was shown into Gorman's
sitting-room.
"I think," he said, "that you are a friend of his Majesty, King Konrad
Karl of Megalia?"
Gorman was on his guard and determined to give away no information of
any kind. The King's nervous fear of the Emperor's displeasure had
impressed Gorman with the necessity of keeping the sale of Salissa as
secret as possible; but he could hardly avoid admitting that he knew
King Konrad Karl. The affairs of the wine company had occupied some
space in the daily papers, and the names of the directors had been
published. His name and the King's had appeared together very
frequently.
"And perhaps," said Goldsturmer, "you also know Madame Ypsilante?"
"I have seen the lady," said Gorman.
Goldsturmer was not in the least discouraged by Gorman's reticence.
"I cannot," he said, "expect you to answer more frankly unless I am
equally frank with you. I am at this time engaged in a business
transaction of some importance with Madame Ypsilante. The sum of money
involved is very large. It is"--Goldsturmer's tone became
reverent--"L10,000."
"Can she pay?" said Gorman, "not that it's any affair of mine whether
she can or not."
"The lady herself cannot pay; but the King--she tells me that his
Majesty has recently sold an estate situated in Megalia to a wealthy
American. Now if that is true----"
"Perhaps in that case the King might pay," said Gorman.
"I wonder," said Goldsturmer, "if the sale has taken place?"
"Shouldn't think it likely," said Gorman.
Goldsturmer paused. For quite a minute he sat looking at Gorman. Then
he said:
"In a matter of this kind I am prepared to pay for information which
would be of use to me. I shall speak frankly. It would be worth my
while to give one per cent. of the sum involved to any one who could
tell me whether the sale which Madame mentioned to me has really been
effected."
"Ah," said Gorman, "one per cent. on, did you say, L10,000?"
"It would amount to L100."
"I wish I could earn it," said Gorman, "but unfortunately I know
nothing at all about the matter."
Political life, so Gorman has often told me, is the very best
education obtainable in one respect. The politician learns to lie
fluently and without discomfort. Even politicians are not, of course,
always believed, but they know how to lie in a way which makes it very
difficult for any one to give expression to unbelief. Goldsturmer may
actually have believed Gorman. He certainly pretended to. He did not
even offer a two per cent. bonus.
"I must ask you to pardon me," he said, "for occupying your time with
my inquiries. I thank you for the way in which you have received me.
Good-bye."
He bowed his way to the door. Then he turned to Gorman again.
"You will understand, I am sure, that mine was a purely business
inquiry. I am not interested in any of the scandal which unfortunately
is connected with the name of his Majesty, or with that of the
charming lady of whom I spoke. Still less am I concerned with the
state affairs of Megalia. I have no connection with Megalia."
Gorman sat thinking for a while after Goldsturmer left him. The
jeweller's visit and his questions were natural enough. Such inquiries
are made every day. There was nothing surprising in the offer of one
per cent. on the money which was to change hands in return for
information. Gorman was a politician. It was not the first time he had
been offered a commission. He hoped it would not be the last. What
puzzled him was Goldsturmer's final remark. Why should the man have
said he had no interest in the state affairs of Megalia unless indeed
he was interested, was on the track of a suspected secret?
Once more Gorman lamented the fact that women were mixed up in a
business affair.
"Damn Madame Ypsilante," he said.
Then, finding some relief for his feelings in expressing them aloud:
"Damn that woman's tongue."
Gorman was puzzled and therefore anxious. His commission on the sale
of Salissa--his rake-off, as Donovan called it--was large, a sum
which Gorman did not want to lose. He was most anxious that the
transaction should be successfully completed and the money actually
paid. The King's evident nervousness about the Emperor impressed him
unpleasantly. Gorman was not a student of foreign politics. He did not
know precisely what the Emperor's position was. Megalia was nominally
an independent state. Its King could, he supposed, cede a portion of
territory to a foreign power without consulting any other monarch. Yet
the Emperor evidently had to be considered, might put a stop to the
whole business. Konrad Karl had no doubts about that, and he ought to
know.
I am sure that I should be doing Gorman an injustice if I were to
represent him as anxious only about the commission. He had a queer
liking for the unfortunate Konrad Karl. He wanted--as everybody who
knew her did--to gratify Miss Daisy Donovan. And he took a sporting
interest in the sale of Salissa. There was a novelty about the
purchase of the position of reigning monarch which appealed to Gorman,
and there were all sorts of possibilities about the situation and its
future developments.
A week later, just as he was beginning to forget Goldsturmer's visit,
Gorman had fresh cause for anxiety. I remember the day very well. I
was lunching at my club, a club of which Gorman is also a member. As I
entered the room I saw him sitting at a table near the window. I
intended to join him, for Gorman is always good company. When I
reached his table I saw that he already had a companion--Steinwitz,
the director of the Cyrenian Sea Steam Navigation Company. I turned
away at once, for Steinwitz is a man whom I particularly dislike.
Gorman caught sight of me and called:
"Come and sit here. There's plenty of room. The waiter can lay another
place."
"Thanks," I said, "but I've just caught sight of a man at the far end
of the room whom I particularly want to talk to."
"Talk to him later on," said Gorman, "Come and sit here now."
There was something in Gorman's tone which made me think he really
wanted me to sit at his table, that he had a motive in pressing me as
he did. But I was not going to lunch in the company of Steinwitz. I
have nothing definite against the man; but I do not like him. I shook
my head and found a seat at the far end of the room.
Afterwards--months afterwards--Gorman told me that he wanted me very
badly that day, me or some one else. He wanted a third person at his
table. Steinwitz was asking inconvenient questions, talking about
matters Gorman did not want to discuss. The presence of a third person
might have saved Gorman some awkwardness.
Steinwitz was insistent and determined. He laid hold on Gorman before
lunch and clung to him until they sat down together.
"You remember asking me," said Steinwitz--"let me see, it must have
been a couple of months ago--you remember asking me for information
about Megalia."
"Did I?" said Gorman.
"And I told you it was a rotten country--no trade, no harbours, no
tourist traffic, no anything. Well--rather an odd thing happened
yesterday. A man came into my office--by the way, you know him, I
think--Donovan, the American millionaire----"
"Oh, yes, I know him. Owns a pretty daughter, doesn't he?"
"She was with him," said Steinwitz--"a romantic sort of girl, I should
say, by the look of her. Head stuffed full of silly fancies."
Steinwitz' eyes were on Gorman all the time he was speaking. Gorman
says he felt very uncomfortable, but I am sure he did not show it.
"I scarcely know the girl," said Gorman. "What did old Donovan want
with you?"
"Wanted to charter a steamer, captain, crew and all, one of our boats.
Said he was going for a cruise off the coast of Megalia and wanted a
biggish ship and officers who know the Cyrenian Sea thoroughly."
"Odd fancies the Americans have," said Gorman. "However, he can pay
for what he wants. If half what they say about him is true, he could
buy up your whole fleet without missing the money."
"He certainly did not boggle over the figure I named."
"Oh, you let him have the ship then?"
"Certainly. Trade is dull in those parts now. As a matter of fact the
_Ida_ was lying up."
Gorman pretended to yawn by way of showing how very little interest he
took in the matter.
"Hope he'll enjoy the trip," he said. "Doesn't sound an attractive
country by your account."
"Well," said Steinwitz, "there are some interesting things to see.
There's the Island of Salissa, for instance."
Gorman was startled by the mention of Salissa. He may possibly have
shown his surprise. Steinwitz went on:
"By the way, talking of Salissa, Goldsturmer told me a curious thing
the other day. You know Goldsturmer, don't you?"
"The jewel man?"
"Yes. He says your friend Donovan has bought the island of Salissa
from that picturesque blackguard King Konrad Karl. I wonder if that
can be true. Goldsturmer says he has it on the best authority."
"Those 'best authorities'," said Gorman, "are invariably liars. I have
known scores of them."
"I daresay you're right," said Steinwitz; "anyhow, in this case the
authority wasn't one that I should care to rely on. It was Madame
Ypsilante--a very charming lady, but----"
He shrugged his shoulders.
"I wouldn't care to bet my last shilling," said Gorman, "on the truth
of a statement made by Madame Ypsilante."
"In this case," said Steinwitz, "her story was a ridiculous one,
absurd on the face of it. She said that the American girl wants to set
up as a monarch and that Konrad Karl had sold her the right to call
herself Queen of Salissa."
"Either Goldsturmer was pulling your leg," said Gorman, "or Madame
was pulling his. Was she trying to get anything out of him?"
"Pearls," said Steinwitz. "There is a certain rope of pearls----"
"That accounts for the whole thing," said Gorman.
Steinwitz seemed quite satisfied that it did. But he was not inclined
to drop the subject altogether.
"A sale of that sort," he said, "would be impossible. The Emperor
wouldn't permit it."
Then Gorman made a mistake. For the first time he showed a real
interest in what Steinwitz said. There is every excuse for him. He
wanted very much to understand the Emperor's position; and Steinwitz
had already heard--possibly believed--the story of the sale of
Salissa.
"What on earth has the Emperor got to do with it?" said Gorman.
"Megalia is an independent state, isn't it?"
Steinwitz laughed.
"Very few states," he said, "are independent of the Emperor."
There was something in the way he spoke, a note of arrogance, a
suggestion of truculence, which nettled Gorman.
"Donovan," he said, "is a free citizen of the United States of
America. That's what he says himself. I don't expect he cares a damn
about any emperor."
"Ah well," said Steinwitz, "it does not matter, does it? Since he has
not bought the Island of Salissa, no question is likely to arise. The
Emperor will not object to his wandering round the Cyrenian Sea in the
_Ida_."
Gorman was singularly dull when he joined me in the smoking-room after
luncheon. I do not recollect any other occasion on which I found him
disinclined to talk. I opened the most seductive subjects. I said I
was sure Ulster really meant to take up arms against Home Rule. I said
that the Sinn Feiners were getting stronger and stronger in Ireland,
and that neither Gorman nor any member of his party would be returned
at the next General Election. Gorman must have wanted to contradict
me; but he did not say a word. It was only when I got up to go away
that he spoke; and then he made a remark which had no bearing whatever
on anything which I had said.
"Women," he growled, "are hell. In business they're red hell."