Baron Barrat was suspicious by education--his experience of life and
his own conduct had tended to render him so; and accordingly when,
three hours after he had seen Gordon apparently commit the French
officer to jail, he found them leaving a cafe in the most friendly and
amicable spirit, he wasted no time in investigation, but hurried at
once to warn the King.
"What we feared would happen, has happened," he said. "The Frenchman
has told Gordon that Zara and Kalonay sold the secret of the
expedition, and Gordon will be coming here to warn you of it. Now,
what are you going to do? We must act quickly."
"I shall refuse to believe the Frenchman, of course," said the King.
"I shall ask Zara in his presence to answer his charges, and she will
tell him he lies. That is all there will be of it. What does it
matter what he says? We sail at midnight. We can keep him quiet until
then."
"If he is troublesome I can call for help from this room, and the
servants of the hotel and the guards will rush in and find us
struggling together. We will charge him with an attempt at
assassination, and this time he surely will go to jail. By to-morrow
morning we shall be many miles at sea."
"But he can cable to Messina, by way of Gibraltar, and head us off,"
objected Barrat.
"What can he cable?" demanded the King. "Nothing the people of the
Republic do not already know. It is our friends here that must not
find us out. That is the main thing. Thank Heaven!" he exclaimed,
"Kalonay and Paul are out of the way, and those crazy boys from Paris.
We will settle it here among ourselves in five minutes."
"And the American?" asked Zara. "He knows, he will come with him.
Suppose he believes, suppose he believes that Kalonay and I have sold
you out, but suspects that you know it?"
"The American can go to the devil," said the King. "Confound him and
his insolence. I'll have him in the prison too, if he interferes. Or
Erhaupt can pick a quarrel with him here and fight it out behind the
sand-hills before the others get back from their picnic. He has done
as much for me before."
Zara stood up. She was trembling slightly, and she glanced fearfully
from Erhaupt to the King.
"You will not do that," she said.
"And why not, madame?" demanded Louis.
"Because it will be murder," Zara whispered. "He will murder him as he
did that boy in the Park at Pesth."
"What does the woman mean?" growled the German. "Is she mad? Send her
to her room, Louis."
"You know what I mean," Zara answered, her voice rising, in her
excitement. "You fired before they gave the word. I know you did.
Oh, Louis," she cried, "you never warned me it might come to this. I
am afraid. I am afraid to meet that man----"
She gave a sudden cry. "And Kalonay!" She held out her hands
appealingly. "Indeed," she cried, "do not let Kalonay question me."
"Silence!" commanded the King. "You are acting like a fool." He
advanced toward her, and clasped her wrist firmly in his hand. "No
nerves, now," he said. "I'll not have it. You shall meet Kalonay, and
you shall swear that he is in the plot against me. If you fail us now,
we are ruined. As it is, we are sure to lose the bribe from the
Republic, but we may still get Miss Carson's money if you play your
part. It is your word and the word of the Frenchman against Kalonay's.
And we have the paper signed by you for Kalonay as evidence. Have you
got it with you?"
Zara bowed her head. "It is always with me," she answered.
"Good," said the King. "It will be a difficult chance, but if you
stand to your story, and we pretend to believe you, the others may
believe you, too."
"But I cannot," Zara cried. "I know I cannot. I tell you if you put
me face to face with Kalonay, I shall fail you. I shall break down.
They will see that I am lying. Send me away. Send me away before they
come. Tell them I saw the Frenchman, and suspected I had been found
out, and that I have gone away. Tell them you don't know where I am."
"I believe she's right," Erhaupt said. "She will do us more harm than
good. Let her go to her room and wait there."
"She will remain where she is," said the King, sternly. "And she will
keep her courage and her wits about her, or----"
He was interrupted by an exclamation from Barrat. "Whatever you mean
to do, you must do it at once," he said, grimly. He was standing at
the window which overlooked the beach. "Here they come now," he
continued. "The American has taken no chances, he is bringing an
audience with him."
The King and Erhaupt ran to the window, and peered over Barrat's
shoulder.
Advancing toward them along the beach, some on foot, and some on
horseback, were all the members of the expedition, those who had been
of the riding-party and those who had remained in Tangier. Gordon and
the Frenchman Renauld were far in the lead, walking by themselves and
speaking earnestly together; Father Paul was walking with Mrs. Carson
and her daughter, and Kalonay was riding with two of the volunteers,
the Count de Rouen and Prince Henri of Poitiers.
When the King and Erhaupt turned from the window the Countess Zara had
disappeared. "It is better so," said Erhaupt; "she was so badly
frightened she would have told the truth."
The King stood leaning on the back of a large arm-chair. "Well, the
moment has come, it is our last chance," he said. "Send for the Crown
Prince, Baron. I shall be discovered in the act of taking a tender
farewell of my son."
Barrat made an eager gesture of dissent.
"I would not do that," he cried. "If we are to make charges against
the jackal do not have the boy present; the boy must not hear them.
You know how Kalonay worships the child, and it would enrage him more
to be exposed before the Prince than before all the rest of the world.
He will be hard enough to handle without that. Don't try him too far."
"You are absurd, Barrat," exclaimed the King. "The boy won't
understand what is said."
"No, but the Jackal will," Barrat returned. "You don't understand him,
Louis, he is like a woman; he has sentiment and feelings, and when we
all turn on him he will act like a madman. Keep the boy out of his
sight, I tell you. It's the only thing he cares for in the world. He
has been a better father to him than you ever have been."
"That was quite natural; that was because it was his duty," said the
King, calmly. "A Kalonay has always been the protector and tutor of
the heir-apparent. If this one chooses to give his heart with his
service, that is not my concern. Why, confound them, they all think
more of the child than they do of me. That is why I need him by me
now."
Barrat shook his head. "I tell you it will make trouble," he
persisted. "Kalonay will not stand it. He and the child are more like
comrades than a tutor and his pupil. Why, Kalonay would rather sit
with the boy in the Champs-Elysees and point out the people as they go
by than drive at the side of the prettiest woman in Paris. He always
treats him as though he saw the invisible crown upon his head; he will
throw over any of us to stay in the nursery and play tin soldiers with
him. And when he was ill--" Barrat nodded his head significantly.
"You remember."
"That will do," said the King. "We have no time to consider the finer
feelings of the jackal; he is to be sacrificed, and that is all there
is of it. The presence of the child may make him more unmanageable,
but it will certainly make it easier for me. So go, bring the boy here
as I bid you."
Barrat left the room and returned immediately, followed by the Crown
Prince and his nurse. The Prince was a dark, handsome little fellow of
four years. His mother had died when he was born, and he had never
played with children of his own age, and his face was absurdly wise and
wistful; but it lighted with a sweet and grateful smile when anyone
showed him kindness or sought to arouse his interest. To the Crown
Prince Kalonay was an awful and wonderful being. He was the one person
who could make him laugh out of pure happiness and for no reason, as a
child should laugh. And people who had seen them together asked which
of the princes was the older of the two. When the child entered the
room, clinging to Barrat's finger, he carried in his other hand a
wooden spade and bucket, still damp with sand, and he was dressed in a
shabby blue sailor suit which left his little legs bare, and exposed
the scratches and bruises of many falls. A few moments later, when the
conspirators entered the King's salon, preceded by Erhaupt, they found
the boy standing by his father's knee. The King had his hand upon the
child's head, and had been interrupted apparently in a discourse on the
dignity of kingship, for the royal crown of Messina had been brought
out and stood beside him on the table, and his other hand rested on it
reverently. It was an effective tableau, and the visitors observed it
with varying emotions, but with silence.
The King rose, taking his son's hand in his, and bowed, looking
inquiringly from Barrat to the Prince Kalonay.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?" he asked. "Was it
discreet of you to come together in this way? But you are most
welcome. Place chairs for the ladies, Barrat."
Kalonay glanced at the others, and they nodded to him as though to make
him their spokesman. He pointed at Gordon with his cap.
"We are here on the invitation of this gentleman, your Majesty," he
said. "He took it upon himself to send after those of us who had gone
into the country, and came in person for the others who remained in
town. He tells us he has news of the greatest importance to
communicate, which he cannot disclose except to you, and in the
presence of all of those who are to take part in the expedition. We
decided to accompany him here, as he asked us, and to leave it to your
Majesty to say whether or not you wished us to remain." Kalonay smiled
in apology at the King, and the King answered him with a smile.
"The procedure is perhaps unconventional," the King said, "but in
America they move quickly. No doubt our young companion has acted as
he thought was for the best. If he has taken a liberty, the nature of
his news will probably excuse him. Perhaps, Mr. Gordon," he added,
turning to the American, "you had better first tell me what this
discovery is, and I will decide whether it is best to discuss it in
open council."
Gordon did not appear to be the least disturbed by the criticism
Kalonay and the King had passed upon his conduct. He only smiled
pleasantly when the King had finished speaking, and showed no
inclination to accept a private audience.
"What I have to say, your Majesty," he began, "is this. I have learned
that all the secrets of your expedition have been sold to the Republic
of Messina. One of those now present in this room is charged with
having sold them. Shall I go on," he asked, "or do you still think it
advisable for anyone to leave the room?"
He paused and glanced from the King to the double row of conspirators,
who were standing together in a close semicircle facing the King and
himself. The instant he ceased speaking there rose from their ranks an
outburst of consternation, of anger, and of indignant denial. The
King's spirits rose within him at the sound, although he frowned and
made a gesture as though to command silence.
"Mr. Gordon, this is a serious charge you make," he said, smiling
grimly. "One that may cost you a great deal--it might cost you your
life perhaps." He paused significantly, and there was a second
outburst, this time from the younger men, which came so suddenly that
it was as though Louis had played upon certain chords on a keyboard,
and the sounds he wanted had answered to his touch.
"Pardon me, that is not the question," said Gordon. "That I make
charges or run risks in making charges is not important. That your
expedition has failed before it has even started is, however, of great
importance, at least so it sees to me."
There was a movement in the circle, and Father Paul pushed his way
forward from his place beside Miss Carson's chair. He was so greatly
moved that when he spoke his voice was harsh and broken. "What is your
authority for saying we have failed?" he demanded.
Gordon bowed gravely and turned and pointed to the Frenchman. "This
gentleman," he said, "is General Renauld, Commander-in-Chief of the
army of Messina. He is my authority. He knows all that you mean to
do. If he knows it, it is likely, is it not, that his army and the
President of the Republic know it also, and that when we attempt to
land they will be waiting for us."
The King silenced the second outburst that followed this by rising and
holding up his hand.
"Silence! I believe I can explain," he said. He was smiling, and his
bearing was easy and so full of assurance that the exclamations and
whispers died away on the instant. "I am afraid I see what has
happened," the King said. "But there need be no cause for alarm. This
gentleman is, as Mr. Gordon says, the Commander-in-Chief of the
Messinian army, and it is true he suspected that an armed force would
invade the island. It is not strange that he should have suspected it,
and it needed no traitor to enlighten him. The visit of Father Paul
and the Prince Kalonay in the yacht, and their speeches inciting the
people to rebellion, would have warned the government that an
expedition might soon follow. The return of our yacht to this place
has no doubt been made known in Messina through the public press, and
General Renauld followed the yacht here to learn what he could of our
plans--of our intended movements. He came here to spy on us, and as a
spy I ordered Mr. Gordon to arrest him this morning on any charge he
pleased, and to place him out of our way until after to-night, when we
should have sailed. I chose Mr. Gordon to undertake this service
because he happened to speak the language of the country, and it was
necessary to deal directly with the local authorities without the
intervention of an outsider. What has happened is only too evident.
The spy, who when he came here only suspected, now, as Mr. Gordon says,
knows the truth, and he could have learned it only from one person, to
whom he has no doubt paid a pretty price for the information." The
King took a step forward and pointed with his hand at the American. "I
gave that man into your keeping, sir," he cried, "but I had you
watched. Instead of placing him in jail you took him to a cafe and
remained there with him for three hours, and from that cafe you came
directly here to this room. If he knows the truth, he learned it in
that cafe, and he learned it from you!" There was a ring of such
earnestness and sincerity in the King's speech, and he delivered it
with such indignation and bitter contempt that a shout of relief, of
approbation and conviction, went up from his hearers, and fell as
quickly on the words as the applause of an audience drowns out the last
note of a great burst of song. Barrat, in the excess of his relief,
turned his back sharply on the King, glancing sideways at Erhaupt and
shaking his head in speechless admiration.
"He is wonderful, simply wonderful," Erhaupt muttered; "he would have
made a great actor or a great diplomat."
"He is wasted as a King," whispered Barrat.
There was a menacing movement on the part of the younger men toward
Gordon and General Renauld, which the King noted, but which he made no
effort to check. Neither Gordon nor General Renauld gave any sign that
they observed it. The American was busily engaged in searching his
pockets, and from one of these he produced two pieces of paper, which
he held up above his head, so that those in the room might see them.
"One moment, please," he began, and then waited until the tumult in the
room had ceased. "Again, I must point out to you," he said, in brisk,
business-like tones, "that we are digressing. The important thing is
not who did, or did not, sell out the expedition, but that it is in
danger of failing altogether. What his Majesty says is in part
correct. I did not take this gentleman to jail; I did take him to a
cafe, and there he told me much more concerning the expedition than I
had learned from those directly interested. His information, he told
me, had been sold to the Republic by one who visited the island and who
claimed to act for one other. I appreciated the importance of what he
said, and I also guessed that my word and his unsupported might be
doubted, as you have just doubted it. So I took the liberty of
verifying what General Renauld told me by cabling to the President of
Messina."
There was a shout of consternation at these words, but Gordon's manner
was so confident and the audacity of his admission so surprised his
hearers that they were silent again immediately, and waited, with
breathless interest, while Gordon unfolded one of the pieces of paper.
"This is a copy of the cablegram I sent the President," he said, "and
to which, with his permission, I signed General Renauld's name. It is
as follows:--
The President. The Palace, Messina.--They will not believe you are
fully informed. Cable at once the exact hour when they will leave
Tangier, at what hour they expect to land, at what place they expect to
land, what sum you have promised to pay for this information, and the
names of those to whom it is to be paid.