"Yes," said Tony, "so I gather."
Again the Marquis glanced at him quickly, and then as if partly reassured by the perfect tranquillity of his countenance, proceeded in the same strain of benevolent urbanity.
"To youth the claims of duty must always seem hard and unreasonable. One would not wish it otherwise. If we were not a little unwise and impatient in the spring-time of life, what interest would be left to us for the autumn and the winter?" He took another pull at his cigar, and blew out a philosophic cloud of smoke. "I presume," he added smilingly, "that you are fully acquainted with the main cause of our little runaway's desperate decision?"
"I understand," said Tony, "that she was unable to appreciate the more subtle points of her selected husband?"
Da Freitas waved his hand indulgently. "Ah, well, my dear Sir Antony, between ourselves I do not mind admitting that His Majesty is not perhaps the figure of Romance that a young girl pictures in her dreams. But what would you? He loves her devotedly, and he will make her a good—an excellent husband. It will be an ideal marriage in every way."
"You really think so?" said Tony artlessly.
"I am sure of it. Why should I have encouraged it otherwise? We have nothing to gain politically by such a match. His Majesty might have made an alliance with one of the most powerful reigning houses in Europe, but he loves his cousin, and I am old-fashioned enough to believe that when there is no great objection it is best to follow the counsels of the heart."
"But there is a grave objection," said Tony, "—on the lady's part."
Again Da Freitas shrugged his shoulders. "My dear Sir Antony—a young girl's whims and fancies! What are they anyway? Three parts shyness and modesty. Within a week of her marriage she will be perfectly happy and contented."
Tony leaned back and crossed his legs. "Well, I'll tell her what you say," he observed, "but I am afraid I can't hold out much hope."
There was a short and rather pregnant silence.
"The position does not appear to be quite clear to you, Sir Antony," remarked Da Freitas with a somewhat excessive politeness. "While we appreciate your friendly offer of assistance, there can be no question of our sending messages through any third party. The Count de Sé is Her Highness's legal guardian, and the sooner she is returned to his care and protection, the better it will be for everybody concerned."
"I daresay," replied Tony lazily; "but you see there's a difficulty in the way. She dislikes him even more than she does you and Pedro."
Da Freitas controlled himself admirably.
"It is scarcely a question of Her Highness's personal feelings," he observed. "I fancy that we are the best judges of her future welfare, and in any case the present state of affairs cannot possibly be allowed to continue."
"I don't see why," persisted Tony cheerfully. "I have adopted Isabel as a cousin, and the arrangement suits us both excellently. Of course I am sorry in a way that Pedro should be disappointed, but after all it only serves him right. I don't approve of a young man marrying a nice girl, unless he has led a healthy and reputable life."
This was too much for the Count de Sé, who started up in his chair with an indignant gasp.
"Sir!" he exclaimed. "You are insolent."
Tony looked across at him with perfect good temper.
"We are all insolent in England," he said. "It's the result of there being no duelling."
"Sir Antony is indulging his sense of humour," broke in Da Freitas with a dangerous suavity. "We can hardly insult his intelligence by suggesting that he is taking up this position seriously. Otherwise it might be necessary to remind him that in this great and admirable country of his there is such a thing as the Law."
"I have been told," said Tony, "that it is our supreme national achievement."
"It is at least effective," replied Da Freitas with some significance. "I understand that it takes a very definite view as to the detention of a minor from her legal guardian."
"There is only one trouble about the law in England," said Tony. "It's inclined to be slow in its operation."
Da Freitas' white teeth exhibited themselves in a smile.
"That," he observed, "is a universal weakness in legal systems, but fortunately there are ways and methods of overcoming it. In the present case, for instance, I fancy that a few words from me to your extremely courteous and obliging Foreign Office might have a very far-reaching effect."
"I am sure they would," said Tony cordially. "In fact I shouldn't be the least surprised if they reached as far as Livadia. It's extraordinary how news travels—especially interesting and romantic news of this sort."
Once again there was a pause in the conversation. Then Da Freitas laughed—easily and pleasantly.
"If that remark is intended for a threat, I am afraid that your information is a little out of date. His Majesty's intentions are already known to the government at Portriga."
Tony shook his head. "I wasn't thinking so much about the government," he said. "It was the friends and supporters of the late Don Francisco that I had in my mind. I've got an idea that some of them might like to come over to Richmond and congratulate the Count on having arranged such a satisfactory marriage."
The effect that this innocent remark produced upon Isabel's uncle was prompt and remarkable. His naturally unpleasant complexion went a sort of dirty green, and flinging his half-smoked cigar on the carpet he rose unsteadily to his feet.
"Are we to sit here and be threatened and insulted any longer?" he demanded.
"Apparently not," said Tony, "but all the same there's no need to burn a hole in my nice carpet."
With a masterful gesture Da Freitas checked his companion's outburst. Then he too rose from the sofa, and stood facing Tony with the same easy and smiling urbanity that he had displayed all through the interview.
"We are flattered at your interest in the affairs of our afflicted country, Sir Antony; but if you will forgive my offering you a little advice, it is a dangerous habit to make a plaything out of what other people take seriously."
Tony stepped to the fireplace and pressed the electric bell.
"All real pleasure seems to have a certain amount of risk about it," he admitted sadly. "The only thing to do is to hope for the best and take every proper precaution."
The Marquis picked up his hat from the table on which he had placed it.
"I have heard more foolish remarks," he observed, "from considerably wiser people."
There was a sound outside, and then the door opened and Spalding appeared on the threshold.
Tony turned to his guests. "Have you got a car?" he inquired, "or can my man drive you anywhere?"
Da Freitas bowed. "You are very kind," he said, "but there is no need to trouble you. We are in the fortunate position of being able to look after ourselves—in every way."
He walked to the door, followed by the Count de Sé, who haughtily ignored Tony's polite farewell. Leaning against the mantelpiece the latter waited placidly until he heard the grind and scrunch of the departing car, and then strolling out into the hall discovered Spalding in the act of closing the front door.
"Have Miss Francis and Mr. Guy come back yet?" he inquired.
"Yes, Sir Antony," replied Spalding. "They returned a few minutes ago and are waiting in the garden. I took the liberty of informing them who your visitors were. You had given no instructions, but I thought you might wish them to know."
"It's a waste of time giving you instructions, Spalding," said Tony. "Your instincts are so invariably accurate."
Spalding, as usual, acknowledged the compliment with a slight bow.
"Would you wish lunch to be served, sir?" he inquired. "Or shall I put it off for a quarter of an hour?"
"Oh, no, you can bring it up," said Tony. "I want support. There is something very exhausting about the foreign aristocracy."
He strolled out into the garden, where Isabel and Guy, who were back in their old seats, jumped up eagerly to meet him.
"Well?" they inquired simultaneously.
"Fairly so," said Tony, "considering what I have been through. I had no idea that this conspiracy business was such an intellectual strain."
"Oh, what did Da Freitas say?" asked Isabel clasping her hands. "I could almost see him standing there smiling and threatening you in that horrible smooth way of his."
"He was in quite good form," said Tony cheerfully, "and so was Uncle Phil." He put his arm through hers. "But come along in and I'll tell you all about it while we are having some food. We mustn't allow our pleasures to interfere with the more serious duties of life."
They made their way to the dining-room, where Spalding was just bringing in lunch, and over an excellent saddle of mutton Tony gave them a leisurely but animated description of his recent interview.
"I don't know what you think," he finished, "but my own idea is that Da Freitas was skidding a little from the truth when he said that the Republican government knew all about Peter's matrimonial plans. I don't see how they can, unless Congosta's people have told them, and that isn't likely."
"They may have spies of their own," suggested Guy. "They must know that the King is plotting to come back, and you can be pretty sure that they are keeping an eye on him some way or other." He paused. "I wonder what Da Freitas will do next!" he added.
"We needn't worry ourselves," said Tony. "We shall find out before very long. I never saw a middle-aged nobleman more obviously bent upon immediate mischief."
Isabel nodded her agreement. "He always has some plan ready if another one fails. In Livadia when he was Prime Minister they used to call him the Black Spider."
"Do you think he knows where Isabel is?" asked Guy.
"I shouldn't wonder," said Tony placidly. "He gave me the impression of having several aces up his sleeve."
Guy frowned thoughtfully. "I don't think it's very safe leaving her at Spalding's with only Bugg to look after her. These people have big interests at stake and they won't mind what methods they employ."
"No," said Tony, "to do Da Freitas justice I shouldn't think there was any maudlin fastidiousness about him." He paused to mix himself a whisky and soda. "I am inclined to think you're right, Guy. The best thing with these strong, unscrupulous men is to put temptation out of their reach."
"How do you propose to do it?" asked Guy.
"I shall go along this afternoon to Aunt Fanny and see if I can't persuade her to ask Isabel to come and stay. She ought to be quite safe there. No one would ever think of looking for a Queen in Chester Square. It's so respectable."
"I seem to be getting more of a bother than ever," observed Isabel in rather a distressed voice.
"Not at all," said Guy firmly. "Every right-minded person finds it a pleasure and a privilege to prevent injustice being done."
"Especially to any one beautiful," added Tony. "It's wonderful how beauty quickens one's ethical sense." He turned to Isabel. "How would you like to go to a music hall to-night?" he asked.
"Very much," said Isabel promptly.
A faint cloud of disapproval showed itself on Guy's forehead.
"Don't you think a theatre would be more—more appropriate?" he asked.
"No," said Tony, "I don't. Isabel knows nothing of the deeper and better side of our English national life, and it's quite time she learned. I shall take her to the Empire." He paused. "I don't like leaving her alone all this afternoon though," he added thoughtfully. "I suppose you couldn't possibly snatch an hour or two, Guy——?"
"Oh, I shall be all right," interrupted Isabel hastily. "You mustn't think of putting yourself out for me, Cousin Guy."
Guy laid down his knife and fork. "My dear Isabel," he said in that precise and dignified manner of his; "when you know Tony as well as I do, you won't pay the faintest attention to his remarks. I am not the least busy this afternoon and I shall be only too pleased if you will accept my company."
"I shall be delighted," said Isabel, "but I am not really frightened of Da Freitas now. Look what I got yesterday."
She slipped her hand into an inside pocket of the tailormade coat that she was wearing, and pulled out a tiny little ivory-handled pistol, which she held out for Tony's inspection.
"It's one of Harrod's," she added, "I saw it in his list. Isn't it nice?"
"Charming," said Tony. "I had no idea that Harrod was so blood-thirsty."
"Is it loaded?" inquired Guy with a faint trace of anxiety.
"Oh, yes," said Isabel promptly. "Harrod says it will kill a man at ten yards."
"You ought to hit Da Freitas all right at ten yards," observed Tony critically. "He's very podgy."
"You mustn't encourage her in such ideas," broke in Guy. "We are not in Livadia or South America." He turned to Isabel. "People don't shoot at each other in England," he explained. "It's against the law and they would be very severely punished. You had better give me that to look after for you."
Isabel shook her head. "I shall shoot at him if he tries to take me back," she said with determination. "I would rather go to prison than marry Pedro."
"A very healthy and reasonable sentiment," remarked Tony. "Guy has the most morbid ideas about the sanctity of human life. He ought to belong to the National Liberal Club."
Isabel put back the pistol into her pocket, and after one more unavailing effort Guy abandoned his protest as useless.
"I suppose it's on a par with the rest of the situation," he observed gloomily. "We shall probably all end in prison or something worse before we've finished."
Tony laughed and pushed across the whisky.
"Never mind, Guy," he replied in an encouraging voice. "We shall be able to look back on beautiful and well-spent lives, and that's the only thing that really matters."
It was close on four o'clock when Tony arrived at Chester Square, and was shown up to the drawing-room by Lady Jocelyn's trim and efficient-looking parlour-maid. Lady Jocelyn herself was sitting on the sofa reading one of Anatole France's earlier novels, and she shut the book up with a pleased smile as her visitor appeared on the threshold.
"Dear Tony," she said. "How nice of you to come so soon. I have been positively ill with curiosity. It's the only disease I can't bear with dignity."
Tony kissed her affectionately and sat down on the sofa beside her.
"I have brought you the cure, Aunt Fanny," he replied, "but I'm afraid it's rather an exhausting one. Do you feel strong enough to listen to a long and distressing story, involving some of the noblest names in Europe?"
"The longer and distressinger it is," said Lady Jocelyn, "the more I shall enjoy it." She stretched out her hand to a small table beside her, and pressed an electric bell. "But perhaps we had better have tea up first," she added. "A cup of tea improves the best scandal in the world. It makes it seem more abandoned."
"I suppose that accounts for the great wealth of Lipton and Lyons," said Tony. "I had always put it down to their Scottish blood."
The neat parlour-maid returned, and having been requested to bring tea, duly performed that operation with the deftness and celerity that characterized all Lady Jocelyn's servants. Then, having received instructions that no other visitors were to be admitted, she retired gracefully from the scene, closing the door behind her.
"Now you can begin, Tony," said Lady Jocelyn, handing him one of her fragile Sèvres cups. "Speak slowly and don't omit any of the more painful details. I can bear anything provided it's sufficiently scandalous."
Thus encouraged Tony entered upon his task, and in practically the same words as he had already told it to Molly he repeated the moving story of his discovery of Isabel, and the bracing results which had sprung from their acquaintance. Lady Jocelyn listened to him with a silent but deep enjoyment which showed itself plainly in her twinkling black eyes. Like Molly she made no interruptions until he had finished, contenting herself with an occasional nod or an appreciative smile as the more interesting developments gradually unrolled themselves. When the whole story was finally concluded, she lay back against the cushions and surveyed him with a sort of affectionate approval.
"My dear Tony," she said. "I have done you a great injustice. Ever since you were a small boy, I have admired your efforts at brightening the family life, but I never suspected you were capable of anything like this."
"I think I have always been a little misunderstood," answered Tony modestly. "Some people develop late, you know."
Lady Jocelyn laughed softly. "I can now depart in peace," she said. "If any one had told me that I should live to see Laura and Henry mixed up even remotely in a bloodthirsty European scandal—" She broke off, as if mere words were inadequate to express the depth of her emotions.
"It is rather joyous, isn't it?" said Tony. "Still it's their own fault, you know. They have been worrying me to take up some serious profession ever since the war."
"Well, they can't complain then," agreed Lady Jocelyn. "Kidnapping Queens is one of the most serious professions that any young man could possibly adopt." She arranged herself a little more comfortably on the sofa, and looked across at Tony with a smile. "And what about my part in the play?" she asked. "Am I to be the Fairy Godmother?"
For a moment Tony paused. "I don't know," he said. "Upon my soul I don't like to drag you into it, Aunt Fanny."
"Nonsense," retorted Lady Jocelyn briskly. "People of my age require a little mental stimulant to keep their interest in life alive." She paused. "Besides, you must think of the girl. Even a Princess's reputation has to be considered."
Tony nodded. "That's our weak point," he observed. "We've got a good hand, but we're a bit thin on chaperons."
"It's quite simple," said Lady Jocelyn. "You must bring her to stay with me. I am sure we should get along together excellently. I like girls with red hair."
"I did think of it," admitted Tony; "but you know, Aunt Fanny, it's really rather risky. Those sleek purring people like Da Freitas are dangerous beggars when they mean mischief."
"I am not frightened," answered Lady Jocelyn calmly. "There is a very reliable policeman at the corner, and the house is heavily insured." She laid down the piece of silk knitting which she had picked up after tea. "Tony," she said suddenly, "I have got an idea. If you are really determined to play the knight errant for this young woman, why don't you put that very comfortable steam yacht of yours into commission and take her away out of danger? If you will go to some nice place I don't mind coming with you and looking after the proprieties. I am very fond of a sea voyage even now."
Tony sat up and gazed at her with admiration.
"My dear Aunt Fanny!" he exclaimed. "That's not an idea. That's a stroke of pure genius." He paused as if to allow the full brilliance of the suggestion to sink into him. "I could bring Guy too," he added, "and then we should have a four for bridge."
"If Guy would come," said Lady Jocelyn. "He probably considers the ocean not quite respectable."
"Oh, he'd come all right," said Tony. "He's getting much broader-minded, especially where Isabel's concerned." He got up from the sofa. "I will send a wire to Simmons on my way back. TheBettyis in Southampton and it won't take more than a day or two to get her ready."
"You are going to bring Isabel to stay with me just the same, I suppose?" asked Lady Jocelyn. "Apart altogether from Mrs. Grundy, I should think it would be much safer for her to leave Hampstead. I expect Da Freitas knows where she is, and in that case she must be in a certain amount of danger."
Tony nodded. "I will bring her along myself to-morrow morning," he said. "The house is probably watched, but I shall take her a nice little run in the Peugot first. I don't think any one will find out where we finish up." He paused. "You really are a darling, Aunt Fanny," he added. "I have no idea how to thank you."
Lady Jocelyn smiled at him placidly. "I will tell you, Tony," she said, "after I have seen Isabel."
There is a small confectioner's shop, not a hundred yards from Victoria Station, which for some dark purpose of his own the Post Master General has enriched with a Telegraph Office. Here Tony halted the car on his return journey, and sauntering up to the desk inside, selected a form, which after some consideration he filled up with the following message:——
To CAPTAIN SIMMONS,Steam yacht Betty,Southampton.
Please make all preparations immediate sailing. Party of six or seven including servants. Duration of voyage uncertain. Wire earliest date likely to be ready. Hope you're well.
CONWAY.
He handed it to the girl behind the counter, an anæmic young lady of about seventeen, who having read it carefully with the aid of a pencil, looked up at him with a rather wistful envy.
"One shilling and eightpence," she observed. Then in a low voice she added: "Wish I was comin' too. Some people have all the luck."
Tony put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a five-pound note. He glanced round, and seeing that no one was observing them, pushed it across the counter.
"Never mind, Gwendoline," he said encouragingly. "Pay for the telegram out of that, and try to keep the other nine commandments."
Then, before the astounded young lady had recovered her power of speech, he lifted his hat, and strolled off out of the shop in the same leisurely fashion as he had entered it.
Isabel gazed round the cheerful, brightly lighted little restaurant with a glance of complete contentment.
"I am quite sure father was wrong about our being the rightful heirs to the throne," she said. "Anyhow, I don't feel the least like a queen."
"You mustn't be so exacting," replied Tony. "You look like one; and that's all that any reasonable girl has any right to expect."
"Still," persisted Isabel, "I expect that proper kings and queens have a special sort of Royal feeling inside. I haven't got it in the least. I have been a thousand times happier since I ran away than I ever should be if I was stuck up on a throne. It's the silly pretence of it all that I should hate so. Even the sort of semi-state that we used to keep up when Father was alive nearly drove me mad. It was like being surrounded by a lot of stupid shadows. Do you know that except for Miss Watson, you and Cousin Guy are the firstrealpeople I have ever met."
"There are not many about," said Tony. "At least that's how it seems to me. I always feel as if I was in the stalls of a theatre looking on at a play. The only real people are one's friends who are sitting alongside, criticizing and abusing it."
Isabel nodded. "It's the first time I have been in the audience," she said. "Up till now I haven't even done any acting. I have just been waiting behind the scenes as a sort of understudy."
They had just finished dinner and were dawdling pleasantly over coffee and cigarettes in the soothing atmosphere of the Café Bruges. They had chosen that discreet but excellent little restaurant as the one in which they were least likely to run across inconvenient acquaintances, since its clientele consists almost entirely of Board of Trade officials, who take little interest in anything outside of their own absorbing profession. Compared with these deserving but sombre people Isabel looked very young and charming. The strained, hunted look had quite gone out of her face, and in the softly shaded light her amber eyes shone with a contented happiness that Tony found extremely attractive.
"I think you will find Aunt Fanny real enough," he said, tipping off the end of his cigarette into the saucer. "At least she always seems amazingly so to me."
"I am sure we shall get along together splendidly," said Isabel. "She sounds a dear from what you have told me about her."
"She is," replied Tony with as near an approach to enthusiasm as he ever attained. "She is the most complete and delightful aunt in the world. Fancy an ordinary aunt of seventy-two offering to come with us on theBetty!"
"I am looking forward to it so much," exclaimed Isabel happily. "I love the sea. I should like to go right round the world and then back again."
Tony contemplated her with lazy enjoyment. "Well, there's nothing to stop us," he said, "unless Aunt Fanny or Guy object. I am afraid it's not quite Guy's idea of a really useful and intelligent employment."
"Heisserious," admitted Isabel, "but he is very kind. I daresay he wouldn't mind if I asked him nicely."
"It's quite possible," said Tony gravely. He glanced at his watch. "We ought to be getting along to the Empire," he added, "or we shall miss the performing sea lions. I wouldn't have that happen for anything in the world."
He paid the bill, and leaving the restaurant they strolled off through the brightly lighted streets in the direction of Leicester Square. It was a delightfully fine evening, and Isabel, who had insisted on walking, drank in the varied scene with an interest and enjoyment that would have satisfied Charles Lamb. There was a freshness and excitement about her pleasure in it all that spoke eloquently of the dull life she must have been forced to lead by her guardian, and Tony felt more gratified than ever at his remembrance of the heavy thud with which that gentleman had rebounded from the sun-baked soil of Richmond Park.
It cannot justly be said that the Empire programme contained any very refreshing novelties, but Isabel's enthusiasm was contagious. Tony found himself applauding the sea lions and the latest half naked dancer with generous if indiscriminating heartiness, while the jests of a certain comedian took on a delicate freshness that they had not known since the earliest years of the century.
It was not until the orchestra had completed their somewhat hasty rendering ofGod Save the King, that Isabel, with a little sigh of satisfaction, expressed herself ready to depart. They strolled down together to the R.A.C. Garage where Tony had left the car, and in a few minutes they were picking their way through the still crowded streets of the West End in the direction of Hampstead.
From Tottenham Court Road they had a beautiful clear run home, the Hispano sweeping up Haverstock Hill with that effortless rhythm that only a perfectly tuned-up car can achieve. They rounded the quiet deserted corner of Latimer Lane, and gliding gently along in the shadow of the trees, pulled up noiselessly outside Mrs. Spalding's house.
"Hullo," said Tony. "Somebody else has been dissipating too."
He pointed up the road to where about thirty yards ahead, the tail-light of another car could be seen outside one of the houses.
Isabel laughed with a kind of soft happiness. "I hope they have had as nice an evening as we have," she observed generously.
Pulling her skirt round her, she stepped lightly out of the car, and having switched off the engine, Tony followed suit.
"I will just come in and see that everything's right," he said. "I told Bugg that we should be back about eleven-thirty."
He moved towards the gate which was in deep shadow and laid his hand upon the latch. As he did so there was the faintest possible rustle in the darkness beside him. With amazing swiftness he wheeled round in the direction of the sound, but even so he was just too late. A savage blow in the mouth sent him staggering back against the gate-post and then before he could recover a figure leapt out on him with the swiftness of a panther, and clutched him viciously around the body. At the same instant a second man sprang out from the gloom, and snatched up Isabel in his arms.
Half dazed as he was by the blow, Tony struggled fiercely with his unknown assailant. Swaying and straining they crashed backwards together into the garden gate, and the suffocating grip round his waist momentarily slackened.
"Bugg!" he roared at the top of his voice. "Bugg!!" In the darkness a hand seized him by the throat, but with a tremendous effort he managed to shake it off, and jerking his head forward brought the top of his forehead in violent contact with the bridge of his assailant's nose. A yelp of agony went up into the night, and at the same instant a swift patter of footsteps could be heard hurrying down the garden path.
Either this sound or else the pain of the blow seemed to have a disturbing effect upon the stranger, for once again his grip loosened and with a final effort Tony tore himself free. He was panting for breath, and the blood was trickling from his cut lips, but his only thought was for Isabel's safety. Thirty yards away in the gleam of his own headlights he could see a furious scuffle taking place outside the other car. With a shout of encouragement he hurled himself to the rescue, and even as he did so the quick sharp sound of a pistol rang out like the crack of a whip. The struggling mass broke up into two figures—one of which reeled against the car with his hands to its head, while the other—Isabel herself—staggered back feebly in the opposite direction. Tony flung his last available ounce of energy into a supreme effort, but the distance was too great to cover in the time. Just as he reached the spot there came the grinding clang of a clutch being hastily thrust in, and the car jerked off up the road with the door swinging loose upon its hinges.
For a moment both he and Isabel were too exhausted to speak. Panting and trembling she clung to his shoulder, the little smoking pistol still clutched tightly in her hand.
Tony was the first to recover his breath.
"Well done, Isabel," he gasped.
She looked up at him, her breast rising and falling quickly, and her brown eyes full of a sort of passionate concern.
"Oh, Tony," she said, "you're hurt. Your face is all covered with blood."
Tony pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed it against his lips. "It's nothing," he said cheerfully, "nothing at all. I bleed very easily if any one hits me in the mouth. All really well bred people do." He bent down and took the little pistol out of her hand. "Who was the gentleman you shot?" he asked.
Isabel shook her head. "I don't know. I have never seen him before. He was a rough, common man with a red face.'
"He ought to die all right anyhow," said Tony hopefully. "It was nothing like the ten yards, and Harrod is very reliable as a rule."
"I'm afraid he won't," said Isabel in a rather depressed voice. "I aimed at his head, but he ducked and I think I only shot his ear off."
"Well, we won't bother to look for it," said Tony. "I don't suppose it was a particularly nice one." He turned and glanced down the road. "Hullo," he added, "here comes Bugg! I wonder what he's done with the other chap."
With an anxious expression upon his face, the faithful "Tiger" was hurrying along the pavement towards them, moving with that swift cat-like tread that stamps the well-trained athlete. He pulled up with a sigh of relief on seeing that they were both apparently safe.
"Sorry I was so long comin', Sir Ant'ny," he observed. "I didn't 'ear nothin'—not till you shouts 'Bugg.'"
"I didn't notice any appreciable delay," replied Tony kindly. "Who was our little friend at the gate?"
Bugg's face hardened into the somewhat grim expression it generally wore in the ring. "It was that swine Lopez—beggin' your pardon, miss. But it was 'im all right, sir: there ain't no error abaht that."
Tony's damaged lips framed themselves into a low whistle. "Lopez, was it!" he said softly. "I ought to have guessed. There was a touch of the expert about that punch."
"'E ain't 'urt yer, 'as 'e, sir?" demanded Bugg anxiously.
"Oh, no," said Tony, "but he had a very praise-worthy try."
Bugg chuckled. "You done it on'improper, sir. I seed 'is face w'en 'e come aht in the lamp-light, and 'e didn't look as if 'e wanted no more. Any'ow 'e wasn't exac'ly waitin' for it."
"Bolted, I suppose?" said Tony laconically.
Bugg nodded. "Run like a stag, sir. I didn't go after 'im, not far: I reckoned you might be wantin' me 'ere."
"Well, we'd better be getting into the house," said Tony. "We shall have some of the neighbours out in a minute. They are not used to these little scuffles in Hampstead."
Even as he spoke one of the front gates clicked, and an elderly gentleman in carpet slippers and a purple dressing-gown appeared on the pavement. He was clutching a poker in his right hand, and he seemed to be in a state of considerable agitation.
On seeing the small group he came to an abrupt halt, and drew back his weapon ready for instant action.
"What has happened?" he demanded shrilly. "I insist upon knowing what has happened."
With a disarming smile Tony advanced towards him.
"How do you do?" he said pleasantly. "I am Sir Antony Conway of Goodman's Rest."
The elderly gentleman's harassed face changed at once to that affable expression which all respectable Englishmen assume in the presence of rank and wealth.
"Indeed—indeed, sir," he observed. "I am delighted to meet you. Perhaps you can inform me what has occurred. I was aroused from my sleep by the sound of firearms—firearms in Hampstead—sir!"
"I know," said Tony; "it's disgraceful, isn't it—considering the rates we have to pay?" He made a gesture towards the car. "I am afraid I can't tell you very much. I was driving my cousin back from the theatre, and when we pulled up we ran right into what looked like a Corsican vendetta. I tried to interfere, and somebody hit me in the mouth for my pains. Then I think they must have heard you coming, because they all cleared out quite suddenly."
The elderly gentleman drew himself up into an almost truculent attitude.
"It is fortunate that I was awakened in time," he said. "Had I been a sound sleeper—" He paused as though words were inadequate to convey the catastrophe that might have ensued. "All the same," he added with true British indignation, "it's perfectly scandalous that such things should be allowed to take place in a respectable neighbourhood like this. I shall certainly complain to the police the first thing in the morning."
"Yes, do," said Tony, "only look here, I mustn't keep you standing about any longer or you will be catching cold. That would be a poor return for saving my life, wouldn't it?"
He wrung the old gentleman's hand warmly, and the latter, who by this time had apparently begun to believe that he had really achieved some desperate feat of heroism, strutted back up his garden path with the poker swinging fiercely in his hand.
Tony turned to the others. "Come along," he said. "Let's get in before any more of our rescuers arrive."
Bugg had left the front door of Mrs. Spalding's house open, and they made their way straight into the little sitting-room, where the gas was burning cheerfully, and a tray of whisky and soda had been set out on the table.
Tony inspected the latter with an approving eye.
"You are picking up the English language very quickly, Isabel," he remarked.
She smiled happily. "I asked Mrs. Spalding to get it for me," she said. "I know that men like to drink at funny times—at least all father's friends used to." She pulled up an easy-chair to the table. "Now you have got to sit down and help yourself," she added. "I am going to get some warm water and bathe your mouth. It's dreadfully cut."
Tony started to protest, but she had already left the room, and by the time he had mixed and despatched a very welcome peg, she was back again with a small steaming basin and some soft handkerchiefs.
He again attempted to raise some objection, but with a pretty imperiousness she insisted on his lying back in the chair. Then bending over him she tenderly bathed and dried his cut lips, performing the operation with the gentleness and skill of a properly trained nurse.
"Perhaps you're right after all about the Royal blood," he said, sitting up and inspecting himself carefully in a hand-glass. "I doubt if any genuine queen could have so many useful accomplishments."
"I have never been allowed to do anything for anybody yet," said Isabel contentedly. "I have got a lot of lost time to make up."
Tony took her hands, which she now surrendered to him without any trace of the slight embarrassment that had formerly marked their relationship.
"You are only just beginning life, Isabel," he said. "You have all the advantage of being born suddenly at eighteen. It's much the nicest arrangement, really, because no intelligent person ever enjoys their childhood or schooldays." He released her hands, and glanced across at the clock on the mantelpiece. "It's time you went to bed," he added. "We'll talk about our adventure in the morning. One should always have a good night's rest after shooting off anybody's ear. It steadies the nerves."
"All right," said Isabel obediently. "I don't suppose they will try again to-night, do you?"
Tony shook his head. "No," he replied; "otherwise I would stay here and sleep on the mat." He took up his hat off the table. "Try and get packed by eleven if you can manage it. I will come round and call for you with the Peugot: your things will just go nicely into the back." He paused. "Good-night, Isabel, dear."
She looked up at him with that frank, trustful smile of hers.
"Good-night, Tony, dear," she said.
* * * * * * *
It was exactly a quarter to one the next day, when the second curate at St. Peter's, Eaton Square, whose mind was full of a sermon that he was composing, stepped carelessly off the pavement into the roadway. This rash act very nearly ended any chances of his becoming a bishop, for a large travel-stained car that was coming along Holbein Place at a considerable speed, only just swerved out of his path by the fraction of an inch. With an exclamation that sounded extraordinarily like "dammit" the curate leaped back on to the pavement, and turning down Chester Square, the car pulled up in front of Lady Jocelyn's.
Tony and Isabel stepped out, and with a certain air of satisfaction the former glanced round the comparatively deserted landscape.
"I think we have baffled them, Isabel," he said, "unless that curate was a spy."
Isabel laughed. "He was very nearly a corpse," she remarked.
The door of the house opened, emitting two of Lady Jocelyn's trim maids, who were evidently expecting their arrival. Tony assisted them to collect the luggage and carry it into the house, and then following one of them upstairs, he and Isabel were ushered into the drawing-room, where Lady Jocelyn was waiting to receive them.
"This is Isabel, Aunt Fanny," he said.
Lady Jocelyn took in the rightful Queen of Livadia with one of her shrewd, kindly glances.
"My dear," she said, "you are very pretty. Come and sit down."
Isabel, smiling happily, seated herself on the sofa beside her hostess, while Tony established himself on the hearth-rug in front of the fireplace.
"She is an improved edition of Molly Monk," he observed contentedly; "and Molly is supposed to be one of the prettiest girls in London."
"You ought to be nice-looking," said Lady Jocelyn, patting Isabel's hand. "Your father was a splendidly handsome man before he took to drink. I remember the portraits of him they used to stick up in Portriga, whenever Pedro's father was more than usually unpopular." She turned to Tony. "I am thankful that you have got her here safely," she added. "I stayed awake quite a long time last night wondering if you were having your throats cut."
Tony laughed. "No," he said; "it was only my lip, and Isabel patched it up very nicely."
Lady Jocelyn put on her tortoise-shell spectacles, and inspected him gently.
"My dear Tony," she said, "now I come to look at you I can see that you are a little out of drawing. I was so interested in Isabel I never noticed it before."
"It's only temporary," said Tony. "My beauty will return." He glanced at the clock, and then pulled up an easy-chair. "I will tell you the whole story if you like, Aunt Fanny. There is just time before lunch, and it always gives me an appetite to talk about myself."
"I will tell you the whole story if you like, Aunt Fanny. There is just time before lunch, and it always gives me an appetite to talk about myself." Lady Jocelyn nodded. "Go on, Tony," she said encouragingly. "We have plenty of food in the house.""I will tell you the whole story if you like, Aunt Fanny. There is just time before lunch, and it always gives me an appetite to talk about myself." Lady Jocelyn nodded. "Go on, Tony," she said encouragingly. "We have plenty of food in the house."
Lady Jocelyn nodded. "Go on, Tony," she said, encouragingly. "We have plenty of food in the house."
There is something rather effective about a really incongruous atmosphere, and described the next morning, with the solid respectability of Chester Square as a background, the midnight battle of Latimer Lane seemed to gain rather than lose in vividness. Tony told it with what for him was a really praiseworthy restraint and directness, and he had just got to the end when the door opened and the parlour-maid announced that lunch was ready.
Lady Jocelyn rose from the sofa. "Let us go and have something to eat," she said. "I feel absolutely in need of support. Your society has always been stimulating, Tony; but since you have adopted a profession I find it almost overwhelming."
She put her arm through Isabel's, and they made their way down to the dining-room where a dainty little lunch was waiting their attention. For a few minutes the conversation took a briskly gastronomic trend, and then, having dismissed the parlour-maid Lady Jocelyn turned to Tony.
"You can go on," she said. "I feel stronger now."
"I don't know that there's very much more to tell," said Tony. "I had to explain it all to Guy who was very hard and unsympathetic. He said it served me right for taking Isabel to the Empire, and that it was only through the mercy of Heaven we were both not wanted for murder. I think he must have meant Harrod, but he said Heaven."
"They are not at all alive," replied Lady Jocelyn, "at least I hope not. I should hate to spend eternity in Harrod's." She paused. "I wonder if there is any chance of your having been followed this morning?"
"I don't think so," said Tony. "They probably watched us start, but I took a little tour round Barnet and Hertford before coming here. We didn't see any one following us—did we, Isabel?"
Isabel shook her head. "I don't think Da Freitas would try," she said, "not if he has seen you drive. He never wastes his time upon impossibilities."
Lady Jocelyn laughed. "My dear," she said gently; "you mustn't make jokes if you want to be taken for a genuine queen. Joking went out of fashion with Charles the Second. Nowadays no Royalty has any sense of humour; indeed in Germany it's regarded as a legal bar to the throne." She turned back to Tony. "Have you heard from your captain yet?"
Tony nodded. "I had a wire this morning. He says theBettycan be ready for sea any time after Thursday."
"That's the best of being a ship," observed Lady Jocelyn a little enviously. "One has only to paint oneself and take in some food and one's ready to go anywhere. I have to buy clothes, and make my will, and invent some story that will satisfy my brother-in-law the Dean. I promised to go and stay with him next month: and it will have to be a good story, because Deans are rather clever at that sort of thing themselves."
"I think it's so kind of you to come with us," observed Isabel simply.
"My dear," said Lady Jocelyn, "I couldn't possibly allow you to go away alone on theBettywith Tony and Guy. It would be so bad for the morals of the captain." She pressed the electric bell. "By the way, Tony—is Guy coming, and have you decided yet where you are going to take us?"
"Guy's coming all right," replied Tony. "He has gone to the Stores this morning to look through their patent life-saving waistcoats." He helped himself to a glass of Hock. "I thought we might try Buenos Ayres, Aunt Fanny. It's just the right time of year."
"I have no objection," said Lady Jocelyn. "I don't know much about it except that you pronounce it wrong, Tony."
"It's quite a nice place, I believe," said Tony. "They buy all our best race-horses."
There was a brief interval while the parlour-maid, who had just come in, cleared away their plates, and presented them with a fresh course.
"I haven't a great number of race-horses to dispose of," observed Lady Jocelyn, when the girl had again withdrawn, "but all the same I shall be very pleased to go to Buenos Ayres. When do you propose to start?"
"Whenever you like," said Tony generously.
Lady Jocelyn reflected for a moment. "I think I could be ready by to-day week. We oughtn't to be longer than we can help or Da Freitas may find out where you have hidden Isabel."
"To-day week it shall be," said Tony. "I will send Simmons a wire to have everything ready, and then we can all motor down in the Rolls and start straight away."
"And in the meantime," observed Lady Jocelyn, "I think it would be wiser if you didn't come here at all, Tony. They are sure to keep a pretty close eye on you, and you might be followed in spite of all your precautions. I am not nervous, but we don't want to have Isabel shooting people on the doorstep. It would upset the maids so."
"I expect you're right, Aunt Fanny," said Tony a little sadly, "but it will be very unpleasant. I have got used to Isabel now, and I hate changing my habits."
"It will be quite good for you," returned Lady Jocelyn firmly. "You are so accustomed to having everything you want in life it must become positively monotonous." She turned to Isabel. "You can always talk to Tony on the telephone, you know, when you get bored with an old woman's society."
Isabel smiled. "I don't think I shall wait for that," she said, "or we might never talk at all."
"There's a letter for you," said Guy, "from Livadia."
Tony walked to his place at the breakfast table and picked up the missive in question which was propped against the Times beside his plate.
"It's from Jimmy," he observed tranquilly. "How exciting!"
He opened the envelope and took out the contents—a large sheet of thin paper covered on both sides with a small neat handwriting. Sitting down in his chair he spread it out in front of him.
GARAGE ANGLAIS,PRAÇA D. PORTO.Portriga.
MY DEAR TONY:
It was very nice and unexpected of you to answer my letter—especially within three months of your having received it. You must be getting quite energetic in your old age, or is it only due to the influence of "the young and beautiful friend who takes a morbid interest in Livadian politics?" Anyhow, it's comforting to know that you're still alive, and that you still have young and beautiful friends. I was half afraid that I was the last of them.
Now with regard to your questions. The only thing that seems pretty certain about the future here is that there's going to be a Hell of a dust up before long. It's an open secret that the Royalists are plotting all over the place, and that they've got a good part of the officers in the army with them. Down in the south, however, there seems to be a strong party that's in favour of the other branch—the descendants of that drunken scoundrel Don Francisco—whoever they happen to be. Personally I can't say I take much interest in any of them. Apart from my garage, I think the best thing for Europe would be if the whole damn lot cut each other's throats. I except the old President, who is not half a bad sort—and has a very pretty taste in cigars and champagne. He is all right, however, because I know he has a good parcel tucked away somewhere, and means to do a bunk directly things get too hot. If I were you I should tell your young and beautiful friend to give up taking an interest in Livadian politics and start keeping rattlesnakes. It's a much more healthy and profitable hobby.
I have had one stroke of luck. I have managed to palm off my business here on a local syndicate for a couple of thou., and am now employed as Managing Director at £500 a year and commission. "Commission" in Portriga means whatever you can cheat out of the customers or steal from your employers. So far I am doing nicely at both, thank you, but I don't expect it will last long. Another revolution of course would bust us up altogether, because the first thing that would happen would be that both sides would come down and snaffle our cars. So I am just making an honest living while the sun shines, and leaving the rest to Prov.
You are three sorts of a brick to think out that job in Piccadilly, but as it stands it's rather too one-sided an arrangement. I couldn't take it unless I was in a position to shove in a little of my own money too. Practically all I've got at present would have to go to my dear creditors, who have been so patient and long-suffering—I don't think!—God bless 'em. If you will keep it open for say, another year—by which time I ought to have swindled the Garage Anglais out of quite a decent sum—I shall be only too delighted to come back and wipe the floor with you at billiards as often as you like. Your notion that you can beat me is one of the most pathetic instances of monomania I ever came across.
Remember me to Guy, who I suppose is as frivolous as ever, and give my love to any of the old crowd who are still knocking around.
Yours ever,JIMMY.
Given from our place of hiding this third day of the fifth month in the second year of our exile.
Tony read this letter through and then tossed it across to Guy, who perused it in turn between mouthfuls of egg and bacon.
"His troubles don't seem to have sobered him down at all," he observed rather disapprovingly.
"I hope not," said Tony. "A sobered down Jimmy would be a lamentable object—something like an archangel with his wings clipped."
"What he says is true enough, I suppose," pursued Guy. "At least it only confirms what Congosta told us."
Tony nodded. "Things are on the move all right," he remarked complacently. "I am pretty sure Da Freitas meant to press the button just as soon as the wedding was over. He must be tearing his back hair over this hitch in the programme."
"I am glad we have got Isabel away from the Spaldings," observed Guy, handing back the letter, "I shan't feel really easy in my mind though, until she is on board theBetty."
"Well, it won't be long now," said Tony, "and anyway she is pretty safe at Chester Square. Aunt Fanny is keeping her tight to the house, and so far they haven't seen a sign of any one hanging about. I really think we handed 'em the dummy all right, though it doesn't do to be too sure about things with a gentleman like Da Freitas."
"I wish we had some idea what he was up to," said Guy. "There is something very trying about this uncertainty."
"I have hopes of Molly," replied Tony, pouring himself out a second cup of tea in an absent-minded fashion. "She rang me up yesterday while I was out, and left a message that I was to come and see her this morning without fail." He took a meditative sip, and then set down the cup. "It's about time we heard something from Congosta too," he added.
Guy shrugged his shoulders. "I shouldn't put any faith in him. He is probably playing his own game just as much as Da Freitas is."
Tony looked at him sadly. "You get more cynical every day, Guy. I believe in Congosta. No man could have such a beautiful faith in the British Aristocracy unless there was some good in him." He pushed back his chair and rose from the table. "I'm off to see Molly anyway," he added. "I've a feeling that she has something exciting to tell us, and a certain amount of excitement has become necessary to my system. I can't get my afternoon sleep without it."
"I wish you would try to be a little more serious," answered Guy in a fretful voice.
Tony paused at the door. "I do try," he said apologetically, "but it's very difficult for a beginner."
It was just a quarter past ten when Tony arrived outside Basil Mansions, the big block of flats where Molly lived. He caught sight of a clock as he pulled up the car, and it suddenly struck him that in spite of the urgency of Molly's message, it was still rather early to disturb her slumbers. He hesitated for a moment, and then decided to fill in a little time by motoring on to the R.A.C. and calling for his letters.
Amongst the several clubs to which he belonged the latter was the one at which he was accustomed to receive the largest number of communications. The majority of them were trade circulars from motor firms, and it was his custom to drop in at least twice a week and commit them to the hall porter's waste-paper basket.
Putting in his clutch he continued his journey, and was just rounding the corner of Pall Mall, when he suddenly became aware of the immaculately dressed figure of his cousin Henry striding briskly along the pavement towards him in the direction of Whitehall. The encounter was too sudden to admit of any strategy, so with a graceful resignation to fate he brought the car to a halt.
Henry came up with a look of surprise upon his face.
"One doesn't often see you about as early as this," he observed.
"You will in future," said Tony. "I have turned over a new leaf. I find that all our successful statesmen have been early risers."
"I am pleased to hear it," said Henry heartily. "I always thought that if you ever took up politics it would make all the difference to you."
"It has," said Tony.
There was a short pause.
"Did you get that White Book about the Patagonia boundary dispute?" inquired his cousin.
Tony nodded. "I did," he said. "I haven't had time to read it all yet, but it seems most interesting. Such good print too."
"They get them up very well," said Henry. "I will send you round some more as soon as you have gone through that. There is nothing like a thorough grounding before you start work."
"I wish you would," replied Tony. "I was half thinking of running across to South America in theBettywith Guy, and looking into things myself for a few weeks. I should like to have some nice interesting reading for the voyage."
Henry looked at him in surprised approval. "I think that's a very good idea," he said. "Laura will be extremely pleased when I tell her, because it shows that you are taking the matter seriously." He pulled out a little tablet from his waistcoat pocket and made a note in pencil. "I will see if I can get you a few letters of introduction to some of our people over there. I shall say of course that you are just taking a voyage for your health."
"That's about right," said Tony. "Thanks so much. I must be trotting now, or I shall be late for an appointment."
He waved a good-bye and started off the car again, while Henry, putting back his memorandum tablet, continued his way to the Home Office.
Half an hour later, having disposed of the motor circulars and having restored his energies with a brandy and soda, Tony set out again for Basil Mansions. It was still only eleven o'clock, but Claudine, who answered the bell, informed him that Molly was already up and awaiting his arrival in the drawing-room.
He found her as usual sitting at the piano, practising over a song. She spun round on the stool at his entrance, and then jumped up with both her hands outstretched.
"Oh, Tony," she exclaimed, "I am so glad you have come."
He waited until Claudine had closed the door, and then kissed her carefully on the curve of her cheek.
"I should have been here long before, Molly," he said, "but I was afraid of waking you up. A good night's rest is so essential to brain-workers."
"I have been up ages," she replied. "I can never sleep when I am excited or worried—at least not after nine o'clock."
"What's worrying you?" he asked, settling himself on the sofa.
She sat down beside him. "It's Peter," she said. "He was here yesterday—yesterday afternoon. I rang you up directly he had gone."
"Well?" inquired Tony.
Molly took a deep breath. "He had come to say good-bye."
Tony sat up. "What?" he demanded.
Molly nodded her head. "He didn't admit it in so many words, but that's what it came to."
There was a short pause.
"He must have more nerve than I gave him credit for," said Tony slowly.
"Oh, I don't mean good-bye altogether," said Molly with a little laugh. "That isn't Peter's idea at all." She jumped up from the sofa, and crossing to the writing-table in the corner opened the drawer and took out something from inside. "Look at this," she said.
"This," was a half sheet of stiff note-paper stamped in gold with the Royal Livadian arms, and bearing two or three straggling lines of writing, at the bottom of which sprawled a large irregular signature.
Signature--Pedro R.Signature—Pedro R.
Tony examined it with interest. "It looks very impressive," he said. "What's it all about?"
"It's a sort of pass," said Molly calmly, "like one gets for a theatre, you know. It means 'do whatever the bearer wishes without asking any questions.'" She took it back from him and slipped it into the envelope which she was holding in her hand. "That would take me anywhere I pleased in Livadia if Peter was king."
"But what's the good of it now?" asked Tony. "Why has he given it you?"
Molly crossed to the writing-table, and putting the envelope back, shut the door and locked it.
"I will tell you exactly what happened," she said, coming back and re-seating herself on the sofa. "Peter rolled up here about five o'clock yesterday in a taxi—not in his car—just in an ordinary taxi. I guessed there was trouble because when he does that it always means that he doesn't want Da Freitas to find out where he's been. Well, I gave him a drink, and he sat and talked for a bit in his ordinary way, but all the time I could see that there was something at the back of his mind—something he didn't quite know how to say. At last he managed to get it out. He wanted to know if I would trust him. If he had to go away suddenly, or if anything happened which made it impossible for him to see me for a little while, would I still believe that I was the only person in the world he really cared about? I pretended to be very surprised and asked what he expected to happen, but he wouldn't admit that there was anything definite or certain. He talked vaguely about a king not being his own master, and that he never knew from day to day when a revolution mightn't break out in Livadia and that if it did his place would be at the head of his people. Of course coming from Peter it was all the silliest sort of poppycock, and any one who wasn't a born idiot could have seen that he was keeping something back. However, I let him think that I swallowed it all, and after a bit he lugged out this paper and explained what it was. He said that if by any chance he was called away to Livadia quite suddenly, the first thing he should do, as soon as it was possible, would be to send for me. He wanted me to promise that no matter what had happened I would come out right away. I saw that he was in dead earnest and frightfully excited about it, so of course I said I would, and that seemed to quiet him down. Anyhow, he didn't talk any more about it, but I'm as certain as I am that I'm sitting here that something's going to happen, Tony, and damn soon too. You see I know Peter so jolly well."
"It looks precious like it," agreed Tony thoughtfully. "I shouldn't wonder if Da Preitas had changed his plans. Perhaps the battle of Latimer Lane has shaken his nerve, and he means to cut out the Isabel part of the programme and go straight ahead."
"The battle of what?" demanded Molly.
"Oh, I forgot you didn't know about it," said Tony. "We have been having all sorts of quiet fun of our own up at Hampstead." He paused for a moment to light himself a cigarette. "There's Jimmy's letter too," he added; "only I think I had better begin by telling you about the battle. There's nothing like doing things in their proper order: it's the secret of all real success in life."
"Drive ahead," said Molly encouragingly.
Tony, who by this time was becoming quite an adept in the narrative, again described the spirited little scuffle outside Mrs. Spalding's house, and the subsequent transference of Isabel to the more peaceful atmosphere of Chester Square. He wound up with a brief account of how Lady Jocelyn had been fully taken into their confidence, and of how they had decided on an immediate trip to South America as the most promising solution to the problem.
"I suppose you're right," observed Molly after a meditative pause. "If she stops in London that pig Da Freitas will get hold of her sooner or later, but I'm awfully sorry you're going, Tony. There is no one else that I can even talk to about things."
"I shan't be away so very long," said Tony comfortingly; "and it's much the best thing for you as well as for us. Even if they go ahead with the revolution, Peter isn't likely to marry any one else at present. There would be all sorts of international ructions if he tried to get a wife from another country, and anyway I shouldn't think the throne of Livadia was a very dazzling prospect for a foreign princess. At least, not according to what Jimmy says."
"Whatdoeshe say?" asked Molly. "Can I see the letter?"
Tony gave it her and, spreading it out on her knee she bent forward and read it through carefully, her nicely pencilled eyebrows drawn together in a thoughtful frown.
"It's some letter," she observed, when she had finished, "but I don't think it gets us much further, does it? I know the Livadians must be a set of prize chumps or they wouldn't want Peter to be their king." She folded up the sheet of paper and handed it back to him. "I should like to meet Jimmy some day. He sounds all right."
"He's a dear fellow," said Tony, putting back the letter in his pocket. "In a way I like him better than any one except myself." He got up from the sofa. "I shall come and see you again before we go, Molly," he added. "I don't think there is any chance of our sailing before next Tuesday. Aunt Fanny has got to invent a lie that will satisfy the Dean of Ballingford, and that can't be done in a hurry."
"Righto," replied Molly; "and let me know at once if anything happens, or if there's anything I can do to help you. You know I don't care a rap about the theatre: I would chuck it like a shot if it was really necessary."
Tony took her hands. "You're the best sportsman in London, Molly," he said, "and it's a thousand pities you can't be Queen of Livadia. You'd make a Hell of a good job of it."
Molly laughed and shrugged her shoulders. "You bet I should," she said crisply. "One can't be six years in musical comedy without learning how to treat rotters."