9:  We Play the King

I suppose there have been moments in history when a king himself has cast his kingdom away, but I find it hard to believe that, since the world began rolling, anyone having authority, high or low, has ever failed his supporters so untimely and so outright.

I had always feared that, if he were summoned by night, Duke Paul would take his own time to leave his bed and might imperil his fortune by his delay; but I had never dreamed that, bidden to his own accession, he would refuse to come.

Indeed, the Grand Duchess’ tidings acted upon me as some malignant drug. I felt as though I had suffered a blow on the head which had not laid me senseless, but had disabled my wits. These lay dormant. I could see and hear: I could smell the faint perfume which the Grand Duchess used. But use my brain I could not: that member was stunned.

I regarded Grimm stupidly: I surveyed the Countess Dresden as though I had not seen her before: and I stared upon the Grand Duchess as a clown upon some beautiful waxwork which represents a kind of which he has never dreamed.

Then I saw George turn to Sully, and my presence of mind came back.

“I will go,” I said, and hardly knew my own voice. “The Prince must not die – officially, before I return.” I looked at George. “If the doctors can’t see our point, man the bedroom and show them something they can.”

The next moment I was in the passage, with Rowley running before me as hard as he could.

What was the length of the tunnel I do not know, but at that time it seemed to be endless, and at last, of my impatience, I overtook Rowley and snatched the torch from his hand.

As we left the niche, I saw that night was still with us and would be for half an hour, but the sky was not so black as it is at midnight, and I knew that the dawn was coming over the hills.

I had hoped against hope to find a car by the fosse, but when I asked Rowley he told me that the Grand Duchess had alighted a little way off and, before going on, had sent the chauffeur away.

There was nothing for it but to run as fast as we could.

Our course lay by the river and in front of the palace gates, but the breadth of the road would lie between us and the sentries, and, though the light of the lamps might show my livery, the men were not likely to take action, and, in any event, Rowley knew no other way.

I am not fleet of foot, and before we had covered five furlongs I was in some distress; but I dared not spare myself, for I knew it was neck or nothing – and a very close run.

By the time we had passed the palace I was streaming with sweat and my lungs were beginning to labour as never before; then a stitch came to torment me and my legs started trembling and aching from ankle to hip: but any torture was better than the horror of losing time, and I stumbled on like a madman, with Rowley panting behind.

All the time despair possessed me. My aim was to fetch Duke Paul, but how to bring this about I could not think. That the Duke would hear me of all men seemed out of reason: as like as not he would have me turned from his doors. Even if he yielded to persuasion, he never would hasten as we had, and I could not command a car. Meanwhile the Prince was in extremis, and I had set George Hanbury an almost impossible task.

At last Rowley spurted past me and turned to the left. This to guide me, for we were past speaking, and but for his movement I should have run straight on.

If we passed anyone I did not see them: but that is nothing to go by, for even my sight was failing beneath the strain. The ways seemed less dark than blurred, and the trees upon either side to be closing in. I could not hear our footfalls, but only a dull roaring, like that of the waves of the sea; and I blundered rather than ran, for all my steps were uncertain, and the merest wrinkle in the roadway troubled my balance and threw me out of my stride.

Rowley lurched to the right, and we entered a broad street which seemed familiar, to see in the distance the lights of a car standing to the left of the way.

I tried to cry out, but I could not, so I made a mighty effort to reach Rowley’s side. As I came abreast, I touched him: then I staggered on to the pavement and, seizing the railing of a mansion, hung upon it like a wretch on a whipping-post, to get my breath. If I was to argue, it was clear I must be able to speak.

So for two precious minutes we let the world slip.

Then we went halting together up to the car.

As I had prayed, this was Sully’s.

I told the chauffeur that the Duke would be out in a moment, and, after staring a little, he touched his hat.

I bade Rowley stand by the car and rang the house-bell.

The mansion was not in darkness, and almost at once a butler opened the door.

“His Highness Duke Paul,” I demanded, “in the name of the Prince.”

Before he could answer I was within the house.

Now I was far from recovered and was breathing most hard, and I fancy I had the look of a desperate man. If my speech was strange, I was wearing the royal livery, and the servants were doubtless aware, if not that the Prince was dying, that some state crisis was at hand.

Be that as it may, the butler left the door open and ran before me upstairs and into a smoking-room.

As we entered the chamber, I heard the shiver of glass.

Duke Paul was in the midst of the floor, unusually red in the face and regarding the pane of a china-cupboard from which was protruding the hassock which he had launched. He was wearing the gay uniform in which I had seen him last.

He stared at me as though I were risen from the dead.

“Leave us,” said I to the butler.

The fellow went.

I turned to the Duke.

“My lord,” said I, “have no fear. If you come with me, in an hour you will be the Prince.”

He began to pluck at his lip.

“I – I thought you—”

“I know. You thought I had been arrested for something I hadn’t done.” He recoiled. “Never mind. This isn’t vengeance. I’m about the only person with whom you’re really safe. And now please come with me. There’s a car below.”

The youth’s eyes narrowed.

“Come with you?” he snarled. “I’ve a good mind to – And why are you wearing those things? You’re an impostor, a — traitor. That’s what you are. And I know what your game is – you can’t fool me.”

“My game doesn’t matter,” said I. “The point is I’m out to save yours. I’ve come from the sergeant-footman – from Grimm. The Prince is in extremis, and I’ve been sent to fetch you as quick as I can.”

The Duke was convulsed with a mirth which was rather too forced to be true.

“Oh, my aunt,” he said slowly. “Forgive me, but I guess you don’t know. Royalty aren’t fetched by footmen. An ADC, or an equerry—”

“Grieg, for instance,” said I.

He started at that. Then he pointed to the door.

“Get out of this,” he said. “If you don’t, I’ll send for the police. If I was wanted at the palace, they would have telephoned.”

“The wires have been cut.”

“Then Sully would have come and—”

“His car’s outside,” said I.

The fellow stamped his foot.

“Don’t argue,” he raved. “Get out. I tell you I know your game. You’re an adventurer – that’s what you are. Trying to worm yourself in. A common adventurer. If you aren’t, why didn’t you go? Why have you hung about here? Why—”

My temper was rising, but I strove to keep it in hand.

“Listen,” said I. “Sully’s an old friend of mine, and I’m trying to help him to—”

“It’s a lie,” yelled the Duke. “It’s nothing to do with Sully. You’re Leonie’s lover, you are. And this a plot between you, to get me out of the way.”

In a flash I had moved and had the man by the throat.

“By rights I should choke you,” I said. “Instead of that, I’m going to save your throne.” I drew my pistol and put it up to his face. “We are going downstairs and into the car outside. I shall hold this pistol under the tail of my coat. If you call upon your servants or try to bolt, as sure as I live I’ll fire.” I let him go and stood back. “Take up your hat and come.”

He was pale as death now, and without so much as a murmur he did as I said.

“I shall be behind you,” said I, “with my eyes on your back.”

He opened the door and passed out and down the stairs.

The butler saw us coming and opened the door of the house.

In the hall the Duke wavered.

“Go on,” said I, grimly.

He passed out and into the car.

Then Rowley took his seat by the chauffeur and we drove for the fosse…

Not another word passed between us until we were treading the passage in single file.

Halfway along I called upon Rowley to stop. Then I addressed the Duke.

“In a moment,” said I, “we shall be in the Prince’s wardrobe. The Prince is dying, or dead, so you will make no noise. Sully is there waiting. Presently Duke Johann will appear. We shall see that he does you no harm, so long as you hold your tongue. Whatever he says, hold your tongue and let Sully play the hand. If you don’t do this, if you don’t take your cue from Sully – in a word, if you play the fool, Johann can wring your neck, and I’ll stand by and watch him do it, with my hands on my hips.”

With that, I bade Rowley lead on, and two minutes later I saw the light from the wardrobe shining down on to the steps.

Bell was down on a knee by the side of the trap.

As the Duke passed into the wardrobe—

“Is the Prince alive?” I whispered.

“I’ve no idea, sir. Mr Hanbury’s in the bedroom, holding the door to the hall, and we were to go in at once the moment you came.”

 

For the fiftieth time that morning I wiped my face.

I never saw livery yet that was fit to run in, and though all the world has heard of ‘a running footman’, I fancy such men were in training and specially clad. There was no time to change my linen, but, when I asked him, Bell declared this would pass, and I can only hope that I did not look the sloven I felt.

As Bell was dusting my slippers, I heard the Grand Duchess’ voice.

“Sully is in the bedroom. Mr Hanbury wants you to enter and stand to the dining-room door.”

An instant later we were within the room.

From my place by the dining-room door I regarded the memorable scene.

The chamber was large but very simply furnished, and, except for a great pier-glass, the walls were bare. Heavy crimson curtains tempered the fresh night air, but the windows behind them were full open, and the room was agreeably cool.

On the smallest four-post bed I have ever seen lay the dying Prince.

He was raised so high with pillows that the bedclothes came but to his waist, and a white shawl of Shetland wool had been tucked about his body to take their place. His eyes were shut, and he lay as still as the marble to which he was soon to go. I could not have told if he was living, but that a doctor beside him had fingers about his wrist: yet, had I not known that he was dying, I doubt that it would have entered my head. The sting of death, the victory of the grave were not to be thought of: on the proud old face was a look which denied such old wives’ tales: calm, careless, infinitely content, it made death seem a slight business, more like the listening to music than the leaving of life.

On his knees by the bed was the chaplain, and the nuns were kneeling behind him with lowered heads. At the head of the bed stood the doctors, one upon either side, and beside them stood Sully and Grimm, ready to catch any murmur from the lips of the man they served.

At the foot of the bed was Duke Paul, unearthly pale and standing stiffly at attention with his eyes on his great-uncle’s face. To his left the Grand Duchess was kneeling, with Madame Dresden behind. And that was all – save for the three state footmen standing before the doors.

The physicians exchanged a glance. Then one leaned towards Sully and spoke in his ear. For a moment they whispered together. Then Sully turned to Grimm.

At once the sergeant-footman stole to my side.

“The Lord Sully, sir, has told me to summon the Duke Johann.” He hesitated. “When – when it is over, please to set this door open and then yourself go directly into the dining-room. Mr Hanbury wants you to man the door to the hall.”

I nodded. Then I stood aside and opened my door…

Johann came in delicately, with Kneller and Brooch behind. He took, I think, two paces. Then he started violently and stopped in his tracks.

There were four of us penned behind him, but the man never moved.

Unable to shut my door, I watched him curiously.

I have seen men taken aback, but I have never seen anyone so manifestly confounded or so very plainly reluctant to believe his own eyes: and I must confess to a fleeting sense of triumph and the thought that, could he have seen it, Prince Nicholas would have relished the knave’s discomfiture.

For a little he gazed at Duke Paul: then he looked at Sully, and a hand went up to his head. Suddenly he noticed George Hanbury, and I saw his shock of surprise: from him he glanced to Bell, and then swung about sharply to stare upon me.

His movements were hardly human – rather were they those of a puppet which is jerked to and fro: and I think he would have stood gazing for two minutes or more, if Grimm had not made to pass by to come to the bed.

As a man in a dream, he gave way, and, when Kneller and Grimm had moved on, I shut the door.

Brooch stood where he was, by Johann: he was plainly badly shaken, for he kept his eyes fast upon the carpet, and I saw his grey head wagging against his will.

Johann seemed to collect himself and glanced at the Prince. Then he folded his arms and lowered his head.

Five long minutes went by.

Then Nicholas, Prince of Riechtenberg, lifted a hand to his chin.

For a moment his fingers strayed. Then his brows drew into a frown.

“Grimm, where’s the barber?” he said.

I saw his old servant start forward, as a dog that is named, but there was no mind behind the question, and before he could make any answer the frown was gone.

The fingers left the chin and sank to the breast…

Another two minutes stole by.

Then very gently the doctor let go the wrist he had held so long.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “it is over. His Royal Highness is dead.”

For a long moment nobody moved.

Then I turned on my heel and opened my door.

I set it wide and passed through – to the door which led out of the dining-room into the hall.

There I took my stand, with my back to the mahogany and, if I am to be honest, with my heart in my mouth.

 

Duke Paul entered the room, white as a sheet. I could see his eyes shifting to and fro, as though he would see behind him without turning his head.

At his heels came the Grand Duchess, a little paler than usual, but very calm.

I saw her glance over her shoulder. Then she touched the Duke’s arm and pointed to a massive armchair. He took his seat there, and she passed to his left.

Johann entered slowly, and I saw his eyes fly to the door before which I stood. He put the table between himself and Duke Paul.

Sully followed and moved to the right of Duke Paul.

The Countess Dresden stepped to the Grand Duchess’ side.

The lords-in-waiting entered – Kneller, dark red in the face, and Brooch, the colour of parchment, moistening his lips.

Last of all came George Hanbury, and shut the door.

The Lord President looked about him and folded his hands. Then he lifted his voice.

“His Royal Highness,” said Sully, “will hold a Council this morning at ten o’clock. There are certain matters, however, which may not so long be left, which fall to be dealt with by the Lord President, aided by such of the Household as he may call upon. These are the tolling of the great bell of St Jude’s, the discharge of the minute guns, the issue of summonses and the communiqué: finally there is the Proclamation of Prince Paul which must in accordance with custom be made in the forecourt of the palace at nine o’clock.”

He paused there, and Johann cleared his throat.

“My presence is not needed,” he said, and turned to the door.

“Your Highness,” said Sully quietly, “will be pleased to remain. It is the Prince’s pleasure.”

Johann turned.

“I will return,” he said shortly. “As commanding the Body Guard, I have orders to give.”

Again he turned to the door.

“Your Highness,” said Sully coldly, “misunderstood what I said. The Prince desires your presence.”

Johann hesitated. Then he shrugged his shoulders and turned.

“Well?” he said sharply.

“The Proclamation,” said Sully, “depends upon the—”

“Is it customary,” said Johann, “that during the private discussion of matters of State, servants should remain in the room?”

“It is the Prince’s pleasure.”

Johann drew himself up.

“My Lord President,” he said, “since we have been in this room Duke Paul has not opened his mouth. When I wish to go about my business, it is you that command me to stay: when I protest that the servants should leave the room, it is you that quash my remonstrance out of hand. You take too much upon you, my lord. I do not allow that such conduct is convenient or customary.”

“Your Highness,” said Sully, “will appreciate that the Prince can hardly be expected to be familiar with the discharge of an office to which he succeeded only five minutes ago.”

“He has a tongue,” said Johann.

“I am his spokesman,” said Sully. “If I go too far for his liking, his Royal Highness will pull me up. Till then, it is my bounden duty—”

“Why your duty?”

“By virtue of my office,” said Sully.

“I take precedence of you.”

“Without doubt, sir,” said Sully. “But you are not an Officer of State.”

“I command the Body Guard.”

“What of that, sir? Since when has the Colonel of the Guard advised his Sovereign?”

Johann made a gesture of impatience.

“I dispute,” he said, “your right to assume the functions of Prince.”

There was a little silence.

Then—

“Why do you?” said the Grand Duchess. “I don’t.”

Johann’s eyes narrowed.

“Madam,” he said darkly, “I counsel you to keep your hand out of this.”

“Out of what?” said the Grand Duchess.

Johann swallowed.

“Out of this difference,” he said.

“Why?”

Johann made no answer, but looked very black. As he turned again to Sully—

“You protest,” said the Grand Duchess, “that the Lord President is exceeding his authority.”

“I do,” said Johann.

“What of the Colonel of the Guard?”

Johann started.

“What of him, madam?” he said.

“This. Twenty minutes ago his sentries refused to let me pass. The officer on duty told me that those were your orders.”

Johann raised his eyebrows, but I saw his fingers twitching behind his back.

“Then how are you here, madam?”

The Grand Duchess shrugged her shoulders.

“I asked the officer whether he was for you or for Duke Paul.”

Slowly the blood came into Johann’s face. All eyes were upon him, but his were fast upon the table which stood between him and Duke Paul. He made no attempt to answer, and I fancy his thoughts were unruly and were fighting between themselves.

My lady’s downright speech had disconcerted him, but its burden had shaken him badly for all to see. He had no choice but to believe her story – the only explanation of how she had reached the suite. And if the Guard was to fail him…

The man turned to the door and came up to me.

I never moved.

“Open,” he said thickly.

I looked him full in the eyes and gave no sign.

For a moment he stood, glowering. Then he swung round.

“So I am prisoner,” he said, and let out a laugh.

I saw his hand flash to his breast and take hold of a chain. As he drew the whistle, I took it out of his hand. Then I put up my other hand, snapped the chain asunder and put the whistle away.

“Your Highness,” said I, “I have orders that you are to make no noise. I am prepared to go all lengths to carry those orders out. All lengths.”

Johann’s eyes burned in his head.

At length—

“Who is this man?” he said.

“Ask Grieg,” said the Grand Duchess.

I have never seen rage so dominant yet suppressed, and I thought the fellow would have fallen down in a fit. His face was twisted with wrath and his upper lip was lifted like that of a snarling dog.

Presently he turned to the table.

“Your Highness,” said Sully firmly, “the murder is out. Everyone in this room is aware of your purpose to make yourself Prince.”

There was a long silence, breathless and pregnant.

Brooch looked ready to drop: Kneller stood like a statue, staring ahead.

Johann drew himself up. Then he threw back his head and laughed.

“I reserve my defence,” he said shortly. With that, he sat down in a chair and crossed his legs. “There were certain formalities, you were saying. No doubt you will carry them out. The bell to be tolled, for instance, and the minute guns.”

There was another silence, and, to be perfectly honest, my heart sank down like a stone.

The worst had happened. Johann had drawn our trumps and was now going to smile – and wait. We had come to a deadlock. George Hanbury’s prophecy had come true.

Sully’s eyes sought mine – desperately: but I had no comfort to give. When I glanced at George, his face was the picture of distress. The Grand Duchess was looking before her, with a little hand to her head.

If proof were needed of our helplessness, it was written in Johann’s face. With his last words, his anger seemed to have died, to be succeeded by a confident scorn, far more offensive than his wrath. As though to point his outlook, the fellow stared placidly upon the ceiling and, putting his hands together, began to twiddle his thumbs.

It has been said that the hour will produce the man. Whether that is true, of this case I cannot say, but I am inclined to think that Johann cut his own throat. His insufferable behaviour was too much for an old martinet.

Kneller stepped forward.

Be sure he wasted no words.

“My Lord Duke,” he said bluntly, “but one Prince sits at a time, and, unless and until you displace him, you must up on your feet.”

Johann drew in his breath.

“So,” he said hoarsely. “I thought—”

“So did I, sir,” said Kneller. “But, now that I am put to the touch – well, no man can serve two masters, and I am no exception to the rule.”

“I shall remember this, Kneller.”

“So be it, Lord Duke,” rasped the General. “I am for Prince Paul. You will please to give me your sword.”

Johann rose, glaring.

“Why?”

“For what I have seen, sir, – no more. You have flouted authority: you have trampled good order and discipline under foot. That was uncalled for – and you are the Colonel of the Guard.”

Kneller was growing angry, and Johann made another mistake.

“General,” he said soothingly, “you forget—”

“Your sword, sir,” barked Kneller. “I have put you under arrest.”

The fellow made no movement, so I stepped to his side and made to take his sword from its frog.

He raised his hand to strike me, but Hanbury had moved when I had and caught his arm.

I took his sword and scabbard and presented them to the General. He pointed to the table, and I laid them down on the oak.

“And now,” said Kneller, “for these Orders.” He turned to Duke Paul. “By your Royal Highness’ leave, I will send for pen and paper, and the Lord President will tell me what he requires to be done.”

The rough draft of those ‘Orders to the Body Guard’ lies before me today.

It is too long to set out, for it covers two pages of foolscap, and, even if it were shorter, it is but dry matter, bristling with military terms. But I shall always value it, for, by Sully’s express desire, George and I suggested certain additions to what Kneller and he had composed, and, though the former grunted and blew through his nose, he shaped them to our joint liking and then embodied them without a word.

Then he made a fair copy, and Johann signed his name at the foot of the sheet – this at the point of my pistol and after an ugly scene. For all that, he did it, and Kneller took the Orders to the Orderly Room before the ink was dry.

Ten minutes later the sentries were withdrawn from the doors of the private apartments. By that time the telephone was working, and the Second-in-command of the Body Guard reported in person to Kneller at five o’clock.

 

Perhaps because it was Sunday, all Vigil came thronging to hear the Proclamation at nine o’clock.

Five minutes before the hour I opened the great French window at the end of the hall, and George and I stepped on to the balcony.

At the sight of the state liveries a long murmur of excitement came from the crowds. These were without the forecourt. The broad boulevard between the gates and the river was choked with a press of people which stretched far beyond the palace on either side. To the right, the Bridge of Arches was lodging a multitude through which no traffic could have passed, and even across the water I could see the embankment swarming and the windows of the houses alive with citizens.

In the forecourt itself two squadrons of the Black Hussars were mounting guard – one in column and the other lining the enclosure from end to end. Before and below the balcony the trumpeters sat in their saddles with their trumpets upon their thighs. A little crowd of privileged persons, most of whom wore some uniform or other, was looking towards the Grand Entrance which lay on its left. This was directly below the balcony and was, therefore, out of my sight, so that, though I heard it, to this day I do not know who made the Proclamation or, indeed, what company stood by his side upon the steps; but that Sully was there with Kneller I have no doubt.

George and I took our stand, one at each end of the balcony, which was some seven feet long.

Looking down, I saw the sergeant-trumpeter watching my face. In the mouth of the window behind me stood Grimm, with his watch in his hand.

So we stood waiting in the hot sunshine, while the river ran white against the piers of the Bridge of Arches and the crowds swayed and whispered and the troop-horses stamped and shivered, to rout the flies.

“Two minutes to the hour, sir,” said Grimm. “I am going to fetch the Prince.”

It seemed to me an age before he was back.

At last—

“Half a minute to the hour, sir. Will you please count thirty seconds and give the sign?”

I counted thirty. Then I looked at the sergeant-trumpeter and nodded my head.

He gave an order, and the trumpeters raised their arms.

Floating across the water came the agreeable jingle of the Cathedral bells.

Then the long fanfare rang out, and the Prince and the Grand Duchess stepped on to the balcony.

I dared not look at my lady; but she was standing beside me and, since the balcony was small, so close that I could smell her perfume and tell when she bent her head.

What was in her mind at that moment I cannot tell, but I know that I was glad of her presence, for here was the end she had wanted – the consummation she had so desperately wished, and I had done my part to bring it about.

My thoughts flung back to Barabbas and that other sunshiny morning when I had stood by her side – when she had asked me to help her and I had promised to do whatever she asked.

‘Once he’s proclaimed’…

Duke Johann was not present. I doubt if he heard the cheers. He was seated on the steps of the passage, and the door to the wardrobe was shut. Brooch and Rowley were with him, but I think the man needed no guard. There was no more spirit in him, and, when, later on, he was given the choice of standing his trial by court-martial or resigning his Commission and withdrawing from Riechtenburg, he immediately chose withdrawal and requested permission to leave the palace by the passage under cover of night.

Here let me say that he was the last to use that tunnel which had cost him so dear, for, at my instance, masons were put to work and both of its mouths were sealed the following day.

Prince Paul’s servants relieved us at half past nine, and I must confess that I never put off any clothing with so much thankfulness.

Now we would have slipped away by the way we had come, but for the warrant that was running for our arrest. Not that we meant to stay in Vigil, but we wished to visit our flat, to make our toilet and to take away our baggage without any fuss. We had, therefore, to speak with Sully; and, since he was up to his ears in business of State, we had to make up our minds to wait at least until the Council was done. And this was the devil, for now we were fish out of water in very truth, and had nowhere to go or to turn for an hour and a half.

At one end of the hall was all the panoply of Death – flowers and prelates and two dragoons standing with arms reversed; at the other, the bustle of Accession was prevailing, while the servants’ quarters were agog with wide-eyed footmen, constantly seeking instruction and very much afraid of Grimm, who was fuming to see a confusion with which he could hardly cope.

We would have withdrawn to the wardrobe, but, when the Proclamation was over, this had been allotted to Johann; and there he and Brooch were sitting, in as gloomy a silence as ever two sinners preserved, waiting till night should come, to go their ways.

At ten o’clock precisely Prince Paul, with Sully and Kneller, left the suite, to go to the Council Chamber a few yards away, and two or three minutes later young Grimm made his way to my side.

“Sir,” said he, “the Grand Duchess wishes to see you before she goes.”

I followed him to the hall, very conscious of being in the way and of cutting a figure which would have been sent packing from any but the humblest of inns.

My clothes were those that had suffered in my brush with the police. I had no collar, and my shirt was so tattered as scarce to be worth putting on. My coat I had long ago discarded, and, though my overalls did much to cover these shortcomings, I had so faithfully fouled them, that these were not fit to be seen. Add to this that I had not been able to get the powder out of my hair, so that I was more fit to scare crows than to have to do with a lady of high degree.

Yet, at the sight of my lady I forgot my looks.

She came to meet me quickly, with the sweetest smile on her lips.

A few feet away stood the Countess, and, as well as the two men-at-arms, two footmen were in the hall.

“I have so much to say, Richard, and I dare say nothing at all. Listen, my dear. Paul is dangerous. I think, if he could, he would kill you – to whom he owes his throne. You must not come to the Lessing Strasse even by night. I think you should leave the country as soon as you can.”

“I cannot leave you like this, Leonie.”

“Till Wednesday, dear. That is the day of the funeral. Do you remember where we stopped near Elsa and looked out the way to Vogue?”

“Yes, Leonie.”

“Will you be there on Wednesday at midnight?”

“I shall count the hours, Leonie.”

“Goodbye, my darling,” she whispered.

I bowed and stepped back.

A moment later she and Madame Dresden were out of the suite.

Miserably enough, I made my way back to George.

There was nothing to be done. As plain as though she had said it, I read the truth. Prince Paul suspected our relation and I had made him powerful to find us out. Yesterday he dared give no order outside his house: today he was almighty. Eager to prove its fealty, every sort of creature was hanging upon his lips. There was nothing to be done.

Three quarters of an hour dragged by.

Then the sergeant-footman came hastening to say that Sully hoped we would come to the dining-room.

The Lord President tried to thank us, with tears running down his cheeks, and, when we begged him to say nothing, he shook his head.

“You do not know,” he insisted, “what you have done. Prince Paul will be a focus for loyalty – nothing more. The Council will rule this country, rule it well and truly for years to come. Johann would have been ruthless. In six months he would have destroyed the labour of twenty years. And you have laid the terror – the ghost which has ridden my slumbers ever since Duke Charles renounced his right to the throne.”

“‘Cast your bread upon the waters’,” said George. “If you hadn’t taught us German, and taught us so devilish well, we couldn’t have stayed the course. Fancy bickering with Grimm in English as to who was to man which door.”

“Listen,” said I. “We must go.”

“You must see the Prince,” said Sully. “He—”

“On no account,” said I. “I could give you a dozen reasons, but one’s enough. I was rather hasty this morning – at half past three. But one thing you must wangle.”

George took out the warrant and gave it into his hand. “That’s a warrant for our arrest. They nearly had us on Friday, and—”

“What rubbish is this?” cried Sully.

“Johann’s,” said I. “Mark that. Johann’s rubbish. But he chose his deponents well.”

With that, I turned over the sheet and showed him Duke Paul’s deposition at the foot of the page.

“My God!” said Sully. He lowered the papers and looked from me to Hanbury with parted lips. “And, knowing this, you—”

“He was only a cat’s-paw,” said George. “And what we’ve done, we’ve done for you and my lady – don’t forget that. By the way, tell me one thing. I know why you were so anxious to – to save his throne. But why was she? I mean…”

Sully put a hand to his eyes.

“God forgive me,” he said, “but I can think of no reason why she should have raised a finger in his behalf. She – she is a great lady.”

George returned to the warrant.

“Perhaps you can get hold of Weber. The simplest way would be to have us policed. If we could have a man attached to us – to tell his unenlightened comrades to let us alone… I mean, we’ll be leaving today.”

“It shall be done,” said Sully. “A man shall be sent to meet you in a quarter of an hour. But you cannot go like this. When the funeral is over—”

“We shall not leave Austria,” I said. “We’ll have a weekend together, as soon as you have the time.”

Here Kneller came in, to say that Sully was needed to deal with some matter of State, but he would not go until he had seen Bell and Rowley and had thanked them in the name of the country for what they had done.

Kneller was very civil, but seemed very much relieved to learn that we were leaving the country without delay.

“It was highly irregular,” he said, tugging his heavy moustache. “I never thought to subscribe to such goings on. I am for rules and precedents, and you – you have driven a coach and six through the lot.”

“True enough, sir,” said George. “But at a critical moment you took the reins.”

For the first time I saw the man smile. Then, as though to correct such a lapse, he put up his eye-glass and drew his brows into a frown.

“I trust,” he said roughly, “I trust your men are discreet.”

“They are ex-soldiers, sir,” said George.

Kneller nodded approvingly, and, the moment seeming propitious, we took our leave.

Our parting with Grimm was less simple.

The old sergeant-footman was at a loss for words, and, now that the strain was over, our recent, curious relation troubled him as never before. He begged us to forgive him if he had seemed disrespectful and thanked us a thousand times for making his path so smooth, and at last, to our great distress, he began to weep, declaring that his master ‘now in heaven’ would remember our devotion and would intercede with St Peter in our behalf.

Then nothing would do but we must enter the bedroom and view the dead Prince, “for,” said he, “it was you, sirs, that brought him his peace at the last. On Saturday morning I gave him to understand that four strong men had been sent to see justice done, and thereafter he fretted no more.”

So once again that day we looked upon the face of the Prince, whose livery we had been wearing, whose name we had never heard a fortnight before.

Then for the last time we used the passage, and thirty minutes later we were back in our flat.

Once there, we wasted no time.

A car was procured, and Rowley left with the detective to fetch the Rolls. We had no sooner bathed and changed than they were back, and, before the clocks had struck two, our baggage was at the station and we were over the border and were taking the Salzburg road.

 

I think it was natural that the next three days should hang most dull and heavy upon our souls.

Indeed, to me life seemed to have snapped off short, and, when I awoke on Monday, to find myself at Salzburg and to see the dormers of the houses against our old inn, for a moment the waters of dejection passed over my head.

The Grand Duchess apart, the burden of the last ten days had been so strange and brilliant that our simple habits of fishing sequestered streamlets and proving the countryside seemed to us jailbirds’ portion and our very freedom a prison into which we had been suddenly cast.

But for George Hanbury, I think that I should have done nothing but wander the streets of Salzburg, wrapped in melancholy and staring at every clock, but, though we came nearer to a quarrel than ever before, he insisted that we should go fishing and put our minds to the business of finding unmapped waters and beguiling suspicious trout. Whilst I was still protesting, he called for Bell and Rowley and bade them have the Rolls ready in half an hour, and, ere they were gone, began to go over our tackle as though some throne were depending upon whether we caught any fish.

So we went forth that Monday, as though Vigil was a phantom city and all our late adventure a lively dream; and, though for the first few hours our occupation seemed hollow and our surroundings strange, the sights and sounds of the country soon came to refresh our senses and our simple pastime in some sort to fill the blank.

For all that, I cannot pretend that, after the business of king-making, the tempting of sprightly fishes was anything but very small beer, and, while it was honest medicine and did us a world of good, the hours went by very slowly and life seemed uneventful and monstrous smooth.

We did not speak of my lady, for, for my part, my heart was too full, and George had no comfort to offer that was not cold: but I fancy he thought of her often, and I know that never for one instant was she out of my mind.

As I have said, at the moment that I knew that I loved her, my world was changed: and, when I learned that she loved me, my world was changed again. Our love for one another preoccupied my wits, and all that I thought and did was subject to that desperate condition which Fate had brought about. To pray to be delivered never entered my head. I would have fought like a madman to keep my yoke. Yet this was very grievous and like to grow more heavy than I could bear.

The future appalled me.

Prince Paul’s jealousy apart, no fellowship was to be thought of, if only because I could not stand it – and that was the simple truth.

I would build her the house I had promised, but not whilst she lay at Littai, three miles away. I would see her, if this could be compassed, from time to time. But bear her company I dared not, because I loved her too well.

Yet my world without her was bleak as a winter’s day, and I knew that only her presence would ever lighten the darkness in which I was now to dwell.

So much for myself.

Of what lay before my darling I scarcely could bear to think. I was at least a free man. I need take no wife to my wounding, to mimic her lovely manners or ape the brush of her lips. But she – she was to go in marriage to a man as vile of body as he was vile of soul.

The shocking thought that by my interference I had not only bound her more straitly to this her unhappy fate, but had bruised her heart, which, but perhaps for my coming, might have been always whole, sent me half out of my mind. At such times, cowardly enough, I fled back to my own misfortune, to scourge myself with the terror of my long drive back from Elsa and of taking up the thread of a life which had been very happy and was now to be very sad.

Shakespeare has said somewhere that ‘men have died and worms have eaten them – but not for love’: and, though I am a child in such matters, I cannot doubt that he is right. Even in those three days I never doubted it. But, though I was not to die, Leonie, Grand Duchess of Riechtenburg, was a maid whom once a man had laid eyes on he never forgot. Her physical beauty was so startling, her nature stood out so handsome and all her ways were so royal that, had she not lived so lonely and out of touch, I think she would have been the darling of half the world. And I was in love with this nonsuch – and she had come to love me. I do not think I should have been human, if her loss had not promised to be an abiding sorrow.

 

At eleven o’clock on Wednesday I brought the Rolls to rest at the spot where, six nights before, we had looked out the way to Cromlec and on to Vogue.

Only Bell was with me, and I think he knew as well as I did that I was to meet the Grand Duchess – and take my leave.

The night was superb. A fine moon was sailing low down in a cloudless sky, and the breeze which had risen to temper the heat of the day had sunk to rest. Not a breath stirred the leaves of the chestnuts which hereabouts grew very thick and threw all the road into shadow for half a mile.

I was glad of this darkness and bade Bell put out the lights, and so sat thinking and smoking until it seemed to me that my pipe had gone out.

The silence was absolute, and when an owl cried from some thicket, his lusty sentence had the world to itself.

So for some fifty minutes. Then I heard a car, coming from Elsa, a little way off.

At once I turned on our side lights and stepped down into the road, but, though I expected every instant the lights of the other to appear, I saw no sign of them, and, when I listened again, I could hear the engine no more.

Now I was sure of my place, so I bade Bell stay where he was and strolled down the road towards Elsa, with my ears pricked and my eyes searching the darkness for any sign of approach.

I had meant to walk to the bend round which I had been waiting for the lights of the car to appear, and I had gone nearly so far, when I saw the Grand Duchess before me in the midst of the way.

“I walked on,” she said simply. “I told the chauffeur to follow in a quarter of an hour.”

As once before, I was speechless, but I put her hand to my lips.

I lifted my head to find her eyes upon me, and then she was close in my arms and my cheek against hers.

“My darling,” she breathed, “my Richard, if I had not seen you do it, I would not have believed it could be done.”

“It was your wish, Leonie.”

“I cried for the moon, and you gave it into my hand.”

“We were very lucky,” said I. “And Kneller—”

“Who gave him his lead? Whose courage stung him to action for very shame?”

“We will not argue it,” said I. “You were always out of my reach, and I have set a gulf between us which can never be bridged.” I let her go there and covered my eyes. “I deserve no better. That night, here, where we are standing, Fate played clean into my hands, and I was so gallant and cunning that I could not see my fortune, but threw it away.”

“Richard, dear, it would have been no fortune to take a renegade wife.”

“Not if she was to be unhappy. But, anyway, the thing is done.” I stood up and drew a deep breath. “We were to build your lodge, dear. If you will send word to Jameson, I should like to begin at once. All of us need distraction, and – and it will help me, my darling, to try to set up your home.”

“You are very sweet to remember—”

I cried out at that, as I think any man would have done. Then I put my arms about her and held her close.

“Don’t say I may not do it,” I said. “We will go about it quietly, and, if you will tell me the way there, no one in Littai need know. We will not use the village. But let me do you this service. Oh, Leonie, my darling, don’t stop me – it’s all I’ve got.”

She put up a hand there and touched my hair.

“I am going to Littai, Richard. I…”

My heart gave one mighty bound and then stood still.

Her perfume was in my nostrils, and her eager breath upon my cheek, and she was shaking a little, because my arms about her were quivering, do what I would.

“So be it,” I said hoarsely. “I will wait until you are gone.”

“Why so, my darling? In my own village—”

“Because I cannot stand it,” I cried. “Because I love you too much. Things have gone too far for me. I cannot be your neighbour…because I have kissed your lips.”

I bowed my head, and she put her arms round my neck.

“I loved you,” she said gently, “before you loved me. That day in the courtyard at Anger, when you stared, and I lost my temper, and you – you brought me low. I loved you then, Richard. And, perhaps because I am a woman, I knew that you would come to love me…”

“Well, something had to be done. Either I must see you no more – or else I must be free to come to you when you spoke. The point was how to be free. I could, of course, have turned down Paul there and then. I had only to go to the Prince and decline to marry a coward, and the Prince himself would have told me to go in peace. I say, I could have done so, and yet… I could not. I had been chosen for Princess, as you may well believe, against my will: and the man who was to bring me that honour stood in peril of losing his throne. His ship was sinking, Richard, and the rats were leaving it – leaving it right and left… I have my faults, my darling, but I am not a rat. More. I am Leonie of Riechtenburg. Of her it must never be breathed that she had thrown over a man because he could not bring her the honour which she had been led to expect.

“So, you see, there was nothing for it. Either I must see you no more, or – or Johann had to be beaten and Paul proclaimed.”

My ears were singing, and my darling’s face was all misty, three inches away. I tried to speak and could not. Instead, I began to tremble from head to foot.

“This day I broke off my engagement. Sully and Marya were present. The news will be made public a week from today.”

Still I could say no word. Only, for me the heaven seemed to have been opened, and the silence filled with music and the darkness with light.

“Oh, my dear, you do not blame me for keeping you in the dark? You do see that I could not tell you? I could beg you to help me, but I could not tell you the reason why Paul’s accession meant to me more than life.”

I could only cry over her name.

“Leonie, Leonie.”

“More than life, my darling. And you – you brought it about.”

Now, when she said this, and I saw by what a hair’s breadth our sorrow had been turned into joy, a thrill of fear ran through me. And that, for some strange reason, brought into focus my most astounding fortune, so that for the first time I saw it clearly and knew that I was not dreaming, but that Leonie, Grand Duchess of Riechtenburg, was to become my wife.

“I – I came to say ‘Goodbye’,” I faltered. “I thought perhaps I should never see you again. And now…”

“What now, Richard?”

“I am very happy,” I whispered. “I am so very happy that I do not think I have ever been happy before. I – I have no words, my darling. And, if I had, I could not say them, because my heart is too full.”

I felt her clasp tighten, and I think that she understood.

Presently she drew down my head and kissed my lips…

In the distance an engine was started. Then a car began to approach.

As in a dream, I loosed her and began to walk by her side, not looking where I was going, but staring at the slim, white fingers that lay on my sleeve.

“Sully and Marya are here. They have come to say ‘Goodbye’ and to wish us good luck. And then will you drive me to Littai? My great-aunt is there. And tomorrow perhaps you and Mr Hanbury will come to stay. And if you do not mind a poor lodging and if you can – can stand me as your neighbour for two or three weeks…”

What else she said I do not know and of the meeting which followed I have no clear recollection, save that Marya Dresden was weeping and Sully was deeply moved. But they were both very cordial and spoke most handsomely, and the Countess kissed me at parting, because, I think, she did not want me to find her tears unfriendly to the choice the Grand Duchess had made.

And then we were in the Rolls and were driving for Littai as we had driven for Anger a week before.

 

There is little more to be told.

Though my marriage must end our alliance, that finest of friends, George Hanbury, rejoiced with me. Indeed, my splendid fortune might have been his, so gay and debonair was his company and so gracious and lively his wit.

Beneath his blithe direction the rebuilding of the lodge became a festive business. The work was after our heart, and Bell and Rowley took to the enterprise, as children let out of school.

Six weeks we played with our toy – with my darling, bright-eyed, in our midst; and Sully came twice to see us and Marya Dresden three times. Then we set our faces to England, and the future and all that it held.

My lady we left in Paris, to follow in ten days’ time, and so came back to Maintenance as we had gone. This on a beautiful evening, just as the rooks were homing and adding to the peace of sundown by their ancient and comfortable cries.

Of my parting with George I find it most hard to write.

It had always been agreed between us that he that should first marry should take the place; there was, therefore, no argument, but it shook me to see the packing and disposal of George’s things.

He had made up his mind, however, to live in Town, and so was content to leave some stuff and his hunters and, after a struggle, to promise to hunt from no other house. This meant that we should constantly see him for some five months of the year, and I do not believe a man’s word was ever more gladly given or more joyfully received.

And so it happens that we sit down to dinner as often three as two and that Bell and his old companion still clean our tops together and share their memories.

So much for the friends that did fully as much as I did to win me my beautiful wife – of whom herself I will say nothing, but that I find her, as ever, the finest lady in the world.

Our life is quiet and simple, for that is the life we love, and the tumult of those wild ten days seems to us to grow more monstrous with the passing of time. This, I think, is natural; for from first to last we were fighting a losing battle and the hopelessness of our venture rode, like a hag, upon our nerves – yet, but for our holding on, Leonie Chandos would never have graced our table or ridden to hounds in the English countryside.

When I think of this, I fall silent, as well I may, and the scenes of our great endeavour take on a significance so dreadful that I strive to put them out of my mind. Sometimes they will not be denied, but gape upon me, like the Psalmist’s bulls of Basan, until, one after another, I look them down.

I hear the slam of the tempest upon the Rolls and the shocking roar of Grieg’s pistol behind my back: I see Barabbas looming in the twilight and the bailiff’s sinister figure on the bench by the door; I smell the choking reek of The Square of Carpet, and I hear the clatter of the shutter which George let fall; I see the quiet Lessing Strasse and the faces of the policemen beside me and the second car storming towards us with open doors: I see the royal apartments and young Grimm watching the telltale, and I hear the sentries spring to attention a foot away: I see the Grand Duchess in the wardrobe and us all, like sheep before the shearer, dumb before the doom of her words, and I see Johann lolling and smiling and the desperate, hunted look upon Sully’s face…

As I review these matters, so surely they lose their sting and come to seem no more than the clouds which gather to wait the rising sun: and, to be honest, if I were given the chance of wiping them out of my memory, I know in my heart that I would not let them go.