CHAPTER XXXIX.
"GOD SAVE THE KING!"
Kategave a terrible cry as the words fell from my lips, and snatching away the hand which I had been holding, staggered, white and faint, to the sofa.
"Don't turn from me, darling," I said, kneeling beside her. "No one who fears God and honours his King, who loves his country, could have acted other than I did. The man meant well, meant nobly, I believe, originally, and his passion and devotion to the cause of the poor I shall remember with reverence to the end of my life. But his well-meaning had passed into mania, so that he had become, as you know, a relentless and wholesale murderer, whose very existence was a menace to the nation. I struck because I was compelled, and in self-defence. I had no option, for his intention at the moment was to murder me. Had I spared him, he would either have died at the hangman's hands, or, more horrible still, have dragged out his remainingyears in a madhouse. You are a woman, darling; not a girl any longer—a brave woman, a true woman, and must see that, terrible as it was and is, I should have been a traitor to my King and country had I failed to act as I did, for, mad for blood as the man was, he might—would, I believe, within the next few minutes—have murdered the King himself."
"It is horrible!" she said, shuddering. "Horrible! But I will be brave, dear, and I do see, horrible as it is, that you are right. Is he dead?"
"He is dead," I replied.
Again she buried her face in her hands and sank back sobbing. But soon the sobs became less frequent, and at last she was composed enough to motion to me with her hand to finish the story.
"And what happened then?" interposed Miss Clara.
"Then," I went on, "I took the keys out of the dead man's pocket, and arraying myself in the Napoleon cloak, the huge collar of which I drew up to my ears, and clapping the hat on my head, well down over my eyes, I made my way to the front door. The man in charge was still at his post,and looked up for a moment on hearing me turn the key in the lock, but seeing the hat and cloak of his leader, did not trouble himself to look again. Making a show of locking the door, I turned, and with my head sunk on my chest, my legs straddled apart in imitation of the Dumpling, and my hand—the right—holding the dagger behind me, I walked slowly towards him. He slipped the paper he had been reading into his pocket, and rose, as if to open the door for me, but, before shooting back the bolt, he turned, and raising his hand soldier-wise in salute, said:
"Shall I send word, sir, that——"
"He stopped short with a sudden gasp of surprise, realising, as his eyes fell upon me, that something was wrong; but, before he could utter a word or raise a hand, my dagger was in his heart."
Again Kate reeled, as if about to faint.
"More blood on your hands! Another life taken! The first, perhaps,hadto be, but this man had done no direct harm, this man——"
"Kate," I interrupted her sternly, "this, too, as you put it, 'hadto be.' The issues at stake were too tremendous to justifyme in running any risk. And this man was an English-speaking foreign mercenary, whom I, with my own eyes, saw deliberately murder two policemen and a soldier in cold blood and without mercy."
"And the King?" she gasped, white to the lips.
"The King," I said, "is safe. I stayed only to put the body out of sight, and to cover up the traces of the tragedy, before going back to set him free. The rising is over. It is the King himself who has given it its death-blow. When the contingent of rioters, who had succeeded in passing the barriers, reached Buckingham Palace, the King declared his intention of going out himself to meet them. Notwithstanding the Queen's tears, the Prince's entreaties, his Ministers' prayers, he refused to be turned from his purpose.
"'I am not afraid of my people,' he said unconcernedly, 'and I do not think my people will harm me.'
"Walking to a window on the ground floor, he threw it up, and standing upon a chair in sight of all, spoke to the crowd.
"'My friends!' he said. 'My people, whom I have loved, and who have neveryet before failed in love to me, you have been misled by a madman and a murderer, who is now dead. The uproar began with him, and with his death it will assuredly end. Your leaders, those who have planned and carried out this treason and this devilry, and those who have shed blood, must answer to the law for what they have done, and must answer, it may be, with their lives.
"'But for you, my people, who have been blinded, duped, and misled by the dead arch-traitor who called himself the Dumpling, to you, my people, if you now disperse and go to your homes, free pardon and forgiveness shall be extended. It is your King who says it, and your King's word is enough.
"'And now, listen. I am not afraid of my people, and I do not think there is one sane man among my people who would harm me. See, I come out to you of my own accord, unescorted, unattended, and unarmed.'
"Stepping upon the window-sill, he said, laughingly:
"'I am not so young or as light-footed as I used to be. Will one of you lend me a hand?'
"A hundred hands were extended, and then, hatless as he was, he leapt down into the courtyard among his subjects, as much at home and with as little fear as if he were among a crowd of sightseers on a race-course or at a review.
"At the words and at the action, there arose such a cheer as London has never heard before, and though some traitors there were, who murmured among themselves, and looked at him darkly, not one of them dared raise hand against the Sovereign, knowing that to do so would be the signal for the people to tear the traitor limb from limb.
"The rebellion is over, Kate. The King himself, as I have said, gave it the death-blow. Before I left the Palace, the people had thrown down their arms to a man, and all London is ringing on every hand with the cry 'God save the King!'"
"Thank God!" she said, "for the King's sake and the people's. But hush, Max! What is that shouting in the street? It is coming nearer. Pray God the rioting has not broken out again."
"I have no fear of that," I said. "But come, dear, let us see."
Together we walked to the window. Theshouting and cheering in the street were terrific, but this was no disloyal mob—these were no revolutionaries. They were cheering a gentleman who, unattended, and without escort, was riding slowly by in an open carriage.
"It is the King!" Kate gasped.
"Yes," I said. "It is the kingliest ruler, the bravest man, the truest gentleman in Christendom!"
And raising the window, she and I stepped out hand in hand upon the balcony, to join in the jubilation and welcome that rose from a thousand throats in a roar louder than the roar of the central seas.
"The King! God bless him!"
"The King! The King! The King!"
"God save the King!"