Frankl's Bank was scanning the agents' yacht-lists for her, when Sir Moses Cohen, who was closely associated with Frankl, placed his own three-master at her disposal; and she set out from Bristol, with her being three Jewish ladies, Frankl's manager, and a snuffy Portuguese rabbi who resembled a Rembrandt portrait.
It was late at night, and Hogarth, who had lately acquired a passion for those Mathematics which touch upon Mysticism, was bent over Quaternions and the quirks of [Proofers note: checkmark symbol] (—i) in an alcove of hisBoodahsuite hardly fourteen feet square, cosy, rosy, and homely: he sitting at a sofa-head, and, lying on the sofa, Loveday, his head on Hogarth's thigh, escaped from office and frockcoat, in happy shirt-sleeves, between sleeping and waking.
Hogarth was interrupted by a telephone bell.
“Well?” he answered.
“My Lord King”, from Quilter-Beckett, “Frankl has handed to his warder something written: will your Lordship's Majesty see it now?”
“Yes!” Then: “John! Frankl has yielded!”
Up Loveday started with “Thank God!” while Hogarth: “When does my yacht arrive?”
“At midnight”—from Quilter-Beckett.
“She starts back immediately for England with me and Mr. Loveday”.
Now an officer entered to present an envelope, and the two looked together over these words:
“Your Lordship's Majesty's sister, Margaret Hogarth, is at No. 11, Market Street, Edgware Road, London. She goes under the name of Rachel Oppenheimer, I don't know why. As God is my witness, I repent in ashes. Won't your Lordship's Majesty have mercy on a worm of the earth? I am an old man, getting on, and starved to madness. The ever devoted slave, from this day forth, of my Lord King.
“BARUGH FRANKL”.
Hogarth 'phoned up: “Give Frankl food now, and put him where it is not cold....” and to Loveday he said, “Well, you see, she is there: 'No. 11, Market Street'. And under the name of—what? 'Rachel Oppenheimer'...John Loveday, do you fathom the meaning of that?”
“No—don't bother me about meanings, but shout, like her, 'O Happy Day!' I say, Richard, you remember that singing? how we would hear her from the forge? All day, washing, cooking—melodious soul! There was 'O Happy Day', and there was—By God, how charmingly holy! how English! And, Richard, you remember—?”
Another telephone bell: Hogarth turned to hear.
“Just arrived in the yacht,Tyre, my Lord King”, said Quilter-Beckett's voice, “four Jewish ladies, a Jewish gentleman, and a rabbi, who request early audience to-morrow; they lie-to, and have sent a boat—”
“Rubbish! I shall not be here to-morrow, and even if I was—Who are they? By the way, no sign of the yacht?”
“Not yet. They are Miss Frankl—”
“Who?”
“Miss Rebekah Frankl—”
“God”, went Hogarth faintly, stabbed to the heart.
“Miss Agnes Friedrich, Mrs.—”
But the rest fell upon ears deaf as death, the teeth of Hogarth now chattering as with cold, that haggard, gaunt yellow, which was his pallor, overspreading his face. So long was he speechless, that Quilter-Beckett asked: “Are you there, my Lord King?”
“Quilter-Beckett!”
“Yes, my Lord King?”
“Will you goyourself—for me—to them?Makethem sleep here, will you? This is most urgent, I assure you. And go quick, will you?”
That night did not the Lord of the Sea sleep: she under his roof...
Nor did he go that night to find Margaret—nor the next day, nor the next, though Loveday chafed: for, gyrating through the giddy air of a galaxy where Margaret was not, he forgot her.
At that time Hogarth, personally, was in close relation with the score of Embassies that inhabited the belly of theBoodah, these intriguing incessantly for half-hours at his ear, and in communication, meanwhile, with their Governments through O'Hara'sMahomet: so that Hogarth had to get up early, and his mornings sweated with audience and negotiation.
The German and Russian Emperors, with the Prince of Wales (then virtually Regent), had hurriedly met at Vienna—presumably for the discussion of the Manifesto; and immediately after it, the Prince, who had the reputation of being one of the most tactful of men-of-the-world, took a step which hinted that the Royal House, as often before, meant to come to the rescue of the country which loved it however the politicians might bungle: Hogarth was invited to accept the Garter.
He accepted: and the ceremony in theBoodahwas witnessed, as it were, by Europe, King-at-Arms in a new tabard, with his suite, going to invest him, taking the Statute of the Chapter, with the Great Seal of England, and a set of habiliments—white-silk stockings, gold sword Spanish hat, stars, gloves. And the effect was speedy, the other rulers, dumbfounded before, said now: “England will comply with the Manifesto; and, if before us, the taxed sea opens to her....Yield, moreover, we must: let us make haste!”
But to consent was one thing: thehowanother: the mere suspicion of the willingness of Kaiser or Tsar shook their thrones. Whereupon Russia said to Hogarth: “Recently dispossessed, they cling dyingly now to their lands, so I willbuythe land from them, andyouwill lend me the money”; to which Hogarth virtually replied: “It is too childish to talk of buying part of a heavenly body from a Russian: have you no sense of humour? You may give the Russian 'nobles' some money, if that pleases you: but without my help. If His Majesty the Tsar is more afraid of them than of me, my only way will be to prove myself more truly terrible than they”.
But high words hurl down no hundred-headed hydra: in France—fast, faster—with dizzy vertigo—millions were forming themselves into secret societies, while in England was One only—but stronger than the many of France.
By the date of Rebekah's pilgrimage Hogarth had so far failed and yielded, as almost to decide that from theBoodahnothing could be done, unless he went to the extent of ruining and starving. The other alternative was the fixing upon one nation, becoming its recognized ruler, and there furnishing an example both ofmodus operandi, and of a subsequent state of happiness, which others could not long refrain from imitating.
But this modification was still in the air; and, meanwhile, he listened, weighed, revolved: using men, impressing, convincing, extracting for his use the wisdom of their experience, estimating the exact pressure of the Time, thetimbreof its roar.
So on the morning after Rebekah's arrival his Gold Stick became his rack from the moment of the bow from the throne till noon: name after name—cordons, orders, gold-lace, sashes, stars, tiaras; till enter the four Jewesses, the bank-manager, the rabbi, Hogarth's pallor showing up his three moles and nose-freckles, adding a glare to his eyes, he suffering from the runaway drumming of his heart.
The ladies stoop through curtseys; the men do reverence; Hogarth bows.
There like a Begum of Bhopal stood Rebekah, floridly reflected in the glassy floor, sallow under the eyes, smiling at him, he at her; and very quickly now, she once in his sight, he recovered comparative calm, and the strength of his heart.
“Your first visit to theBoodah, I think?”—looking at her.
“Yes, my Lord King”—curtseying.
“Do you like her?”
“Why, yes: she is solid, and mighty, and rich. In my own, and the name of my friends, I beg to thank your Lordship's Majesty for your Lordship's Majesty's kind and good hospitality to us”.
“Humbugging little beggar”, thought Hogarth, his mind slowly gathering tone, but rushing meanwhile into a species of frivolous assurance after those agitations, his hands still cold.
“Well”, he said, “but you have not seen her! I think I know her fairly well, and I propose to be myself your guide, if that will interest you—”
The Rabbi spoke with trembling voice: “It is gracious, my Lord King. We are here, however, humbly to present an urgent petition to your Lordship's Majesty. Baruch Frankl, at present a prisoner in theBoodah, a man no longer young, and habituated to comfort—”
“Stay”, interrupted Hogarth: “if you have a petition the day and hour must be arranged by negotiation between yourself and my Chamberlain. But surely, meantime, I may consider you my guest? Miss Frankl and I—have met—in the world. Come, ladies—come, sirs—say yes!”
Rebekah, standing averted, flashed a look at him, reading his heart, and Jews and Jewesses laid heads together, whispering a little, until the Rabbi said, bowing: “We bend to your Lordship's Majesty's most gracious will”.
“Agreed, then, sir. We might now see theBoodah, and if you will luncheon with me—Mr. Chamberlain! direct Admiral Quilter-Beckett to meet me at once in the north corridor”.
He rose, master of his limbs now, descended, unrobed in an alcove, and in a corridor above the circular stair came upon Quilter-Beckett, who, acting as guide, Rebekah's hand now resting on Hogarth's arm, led them about theBoodah, now walking, now slipping in little trains over eighty-foot rails, rolled in one heat, laid down the vanishing length of dim-lit corridors floored with white tiles, their frieze of majolica, with rows of ceramics; and they saw the armouries, piles of rifles, cutlasses, pistols; ferneries grown by electric light; great cold-storage rooms that struck a chill, for preserving meats, butter, fruit; the doctors'environ, the dispensary, and roomy hospital; watched from a railing the working engines that fixed theBoodah'sposition, Hogarth here saying: “There you have a menagerie of gnome-land: observe those two black beetles, sedately nodding; and there is daddy-longlegs, working his legs gymnastically; and the three pairs of gallant grey stallions, galloping grandly neck to neck; and those two ridiculous beings, rubbing their palms together, round and round: each preoccupied, comically solemn, busied about its own quaint affairs—like a varied gnomeland”.
And Rebekah said in a meek tone, like the hen submitting: “Yes, I see now you say it, my Lord King”.
Up stairs and down, round semicircles, up lifts, through nooks, corridors: saw the guns, and how by hydraulics everything was done—the hoisting of ammunition, loading, training: guns intact, guns wrecked by the Dreadnoughts; and shimmering kitchens, which reeked a smell of heat, and the dairy-maids, and the line of kine, and the row of prison-doors, and the mechanism of ventilation, fans and blowers, the drainage-system, and the dynamos for lighting, for supplying power to motors, for heating, and for shimmering forth rich in the search-lights; and the central ballroom, the clothes store, the original one-ninety-sixth model, the Ambassador-region, the steaming laundry, and the roof, where Rebekah saw her initials on the breeze, and the vertical pop-guns under shields for dealing with aeroplane attack, and the cream theatre, and the paymaster's suite, and the bunkers, the Government-offices, and the tax-receiving rooms, the telephone system, and the lady-telegraphists—till all were tired, though half had not been seen. They luncheoned together; in the early afternoon there was an Investiture, and she was there; for “five-o'clock” there was a Gounod concert in the theatre, and she sat in his box; at night the Bulgarian Ambassador gave a ball, and she danced a gavotte with him.
When they parted a dying wind sighed his name: “Hogarth...”; and when Loveday before sleeping happened to ask: “When do we set out for London, Richard?” Hogarth with a laugh turned upon him, replying: “When do we set out for Arcturus and the Pleiades? Do give one time to look round him!”
The next morning Rebekah, led forward from a semicircle of courtiers by a backing Silver Stick, approached within four feet of the Throne, and after the protracted humiliation of her curtsey, said ruefully: “Our party have failed, my Lord King, to obtain audience for our humble petition till after four days”.
“Is that too long?”
“We could not wait beyond to-night. Our good Rabbi, and my father's Manager—both must hurry back, and we others with them. This being so,Iappeal to Your Lordship's Majesty “.
“Apersonalappeal?”
“Yes”—poutingly.
“Then, I grant an audience”.
“Where?”
“Here”.
“Who will be here?”
“Why—you and I.”
“No”—very low, with pressed lips.
“I am so sorry”, says he: “it is the only chance I shall have; not for long—a few minutes—I am so busy. Otherwise, you will have to stay four days—and your poor father suffering—”
She seemed unsure now, and his hands in the uncertainty of that moment were moist like melting ice.
“So, then, you accept”, said he: “a little audience—you grant me? Or rather, I grant you”.
“When, my Lord King?”
“At three—No, what folly! At four. Will you? At four? And here? Say at four”.
He spoke leaning keenly forward; and she, with a curtsey of acquiescence, retired.
They were near again, and yet far, in thesalle à mangerat luncheon, a function of a hundred guests at small tables, with more of orchestra than of talk; and even as Hogarth and his train entered, and the crowd rose, she saw his eyes, by some power, prowl and find her.
Afterwards there were two hours to wait.
Such a heat of haste now possessed them both! Hogarth locked himself from his attendants into his bed-chamber, and, tumbling a chaos of clothes and uniforms upon the carpet, stumbled bitterly among them, hunting for a cravat whose effect he remembered; wished at the mirror that he had no moles and nose-freckles, or that his father had turned him out rather less black; and anon a delicious chill pang of mingled sugar and peppermint would gash his heart at the thought: “she consented!” He broke glass, dropped his watch to fragments, hissing “damn the thing!”; and about half-past three the hands of Rebekah, too, inherlocked closet, were like the scattering sirocco among powder-boxes brushes, jewel-cases, and toilet-toys. What a hot haste was here! She too much blued her eyes, and bruised the skin in wiping, intense the contest between poudre blanche and poudre Rachel, violette and germandrée, she manoeuvring among mirrors to catch each angle of view, but with a blind impatience; and, if she wanted something, she tripped running, breathless: such a disease of flurry, an eruption and conflagration of haste—for nothing; yet, all the while, with a miserable sub-feeling of the penal creeping of time.
At four Hogarth in the Throne-room alone was now afraid that he would not be able to utter a syllable, and wished that she would not come; then, in a minute, began to fear that she would not, and wondered whether he was not a deluded fool ever to have dreamed it, he walking quick, or anon listening like a thief in that half-dark: for few lights were shining, the hall like the after-flush of sunset just before the dark.
At four past four he was aware of a rustling train's rush down the steps, and now was like a man with his neck on the block, awaiting the axe. A moment afterwards she was before him, and two moments afterwards he was collected and hot, and a man again.
“Dear”, he whispered at her ear, leading her by the hand to an ottoman in a near alcove.
She, in self-defence, was repellent, breathlessly saying with galloping haste: “No—I will not sit: you sit, and I will stand here: do as I say, Hogarth—or I repent and go: I know you, and you know me—or you should. Our talk must be short. You saydearto me: that is very gentle, my friend; but it was not to bandy such words that I am here—alone—with you and your strength—Hogarth. I come as a suppliant, to implore you—firstly for the man who is my father—and secondly for yourself, to warn you. You are said to be about to become the sovereign of England—”
“Iam?”—starting where he sat obediently before her, surprised that she should utter the purpose then forming in his mind: “witch—of Endor!”
“Iam not the witch, but an old lady in whose predictions many Jews believe, who prophesies the return of the Jews to Palestine—through you. Be that as it may, if it is so that you are about to meddle with the institutions of England, oh beware, the resistence will be terrible!”
“With respect to England I am omnipotent”.
“Yes, you can starve it, butwillyou? You won't. And listen to your friend: there is now in London a society, enormously powerful I believe, sworn to your destruction”.
“What can they do—assassinate me?”
“Ah! who knows?”
“That would be too childish: I have sown my seed in Time, and it will grow: two thousand little lords could hardly obliterate the ploughing of my wrist. But you know this?”
“Richard, my father is of them”.
“Ha!—I forgive him: his daughter seems to be on the other side—”
“Richard, you would not touch my hand? Ah, my friend, I warn you—! Now—you have agitated—I have been ill—my father is of them. And who is one of the closest associates of my father—?”
“Who?”
“The person known as Admiral Donald, whomIknow very well to be Monsignor O'Hara. I think you might have been more—recondite—in your choice of an admiral, Richard!”
“Ah?—you surprise me”.
“But why? You once sent that man to me as a notebearer: certainly, a singular selection. You must have known that he had been a convict—”
“I thought him innocent then!”
“But you know now—?”
“Yes”.
“And is it not extraordinary that your ensign bears my initials, while this man is one of your commanders?”
“I confess that I do not see the point—”
“Then you cannot know, I suppose, that it was againstmethat his offence was directed”.
Hogarth's left lid lowered....
“But my complaint is of the present: are you not aware of the scandal which theMahometis now creating in the world?”
“Scandal?”
“Thrice lately whispers have reached me of unnameable iniquities perpetrated there—Alexandria of the sixth century, Rome of the second! I believe the rumour is widely spread in London—no woman of the world now lands on theMahomet”.
“It wasyouwhom he assaulted...” Hogarth laughed and was pale at once.
“Yes, but observe that I must go now, my friend. I have spoken of the things which I had in my mind: there remains—my father”.
“He shall go with you”.
“I thank you, my Lord King; that must be in an hour: so I say, Richard, good-bye”.
“I do not suppose you can dream how dark—” he went woefully.
Of which she took no notice, but with rapid speech said: “How fair this hall is—one supposes that the art of impressions was lost with Solomon—like some chamber under a lake at set of sun, colour without substance, suspended, flushed—I cannot express—”
“Sad, say”.
“Ah, Richard”.
“Rebekah!”
“Well, Richard, my poor friend?”
“Have pity!”
“Poor Richard!”
“I can't help it, you are all mixed up with my blood, don't go from me. If you think it a sin—the Gentile—God will forgive the charity. Come for ever—”
Now he sobbed once, and, as he sobbed, she was on her knees, in pagan posture, at his knees. “Do not—” distractedly—“see, I kiss your hand-do you doubt that I pity my love—as a mother has compassion—?”
Now were heaving breasts, a vehement fight for breaths, wild eyes, and a live brand in the marrow.
“You will not go! I have you! In God's name, what a mad thing—!”
“My furious king—you kiss—” the short-windedméléeof whispers now suffocated in a passion of inarticulate breaths; but at that moment one of Rebekah's chaperons, wandering out of time and place, stood at the alcove entrance, and they, smitten into two, sprang straight, awaked from trance, Rebekah with half a sob and half a laugh.
And two hours later Hogarth, from the roof, saw the Jewish yacht disappear to the East, on board being the four—and Frankl.
As he descended, he threw up his head with: “Ha!—O'Hara”; announced his immediate departure with only a secretary and two lords-in-waiting, left a mystical note for Loveday, saying that he had decided to go alone in quest of Margaret, and went almost secretly, only the salute informing theBoodahas he steamed away. In reality he was in haste to face O'Hara, and the yacht's bows turned, not eastward, but southward, under forced draught, to arrive at theMahometin early afternoon. As her flags indicated the Lord of the Sea absent, there was no salute, and, landing in a panama and jacket, in the Collector's Office he gave the sign of mum, and, led only by a blue-jacket, went spying the depths of theMahomet.
In many parts, noticing a singular odour, “What is it I smell?” he asked.
“Incense, my Lord King”, the man answered.
On the fourth floor he entered the loveliestbijouchapel, the coenaculum gold-plated, altar flower-piled, frescoed roof, “stations” in oils, where a lonesome Moorish youth slothfully swung and swung a thurible ruby-studded: but in vestments of noenfant de choeur—of an ancient Phrygian.
Another descent and Hogarth reached a region of laugh and harping: whereupon, dismissing his guide, he tracked the music into a nook so rare, that he stood amazed—a Court of Love, or Mahommedan Heaven, or grot of Omar—anything old, lovely, and devil-sacred—the air chokingly odorous, near a fountain some brazen demon—Moloch or Baal—buried in roses, over everything roses, bounty of flowers, a very harvest-home of Chloris, Flora in revel; and smooth youths bearing cups for some twenty others, all garlanded, besides those on the marble stage; and on the stage itself a scene of dancing girls, Sevillian, Neapolitan, Algerian, mixed with masked Satyrs, which made Hogarth pale, while at a Herod's-table buried under fruits, wines, flowers and gold, reclined Pat O'Hara, tonsured now, crowned with ivy and violets, gowned in a violet toga; while under a pendulum whose swings left whiffs of incense behind lay Harris insensible.
As Hogarth descended into it, harp and dance ceased; some leapt to their feet: but O'Hara sat still, gazing in a dead silence through glairy eyes, while Hogarth, looking about, spied an electric button in a couch, touched it, and soon a man in uniform stood at a door above.
“Who are you?” asked Hogarth.
“John Souttar, head-telegraphist, may it please your Lordship's Majesty”.
“Make haste: tell the First Lieutenant and the Chief Constable that the Lord of the Sea is here”.
By now all the revellers were on their feet; no sound: only, the clicking pendulum voyaged, landed an incense-whiff, and voyaged, like traders.
Then the Lieutenant appeared, mottled and panting, and immediately the Constable.
“Ah, Royds”, said Hogarth: “is it practicable to flood this room quickly with a hose?”
“I—should think so, my Lord King”.
“See to it. First set guards at the exits”.
He turned to the other: “Mr. Chief Constable, I give all present, except, of course, your Admiral, into custody, on a charge of misdemeanour on the high seas. The General Prosecutor will, in due course, forward the indictment to your Summary Court. Have your men here with handcuffs”.
Again silence, till, in four minutes, two men appeared on the steps, ball-nozzle in hand; upon which Hogarth said to O'Hara: “Follow me”, and as the two passed up, O'Hara tottery, care hanging on that ponderous nether-lip, Hogarth whispered the hose-bearers: “Drown the room well—man and woman—do not spare”.
To O'Hara he said: “Lead to your suite”, and, descending, they presently stood in a bed-temple, the bed surrounded with mirrors, and at the other end of the apartment an altar—pyx, six unflickering candles, and flowers, with rail and reredos, and maxims of St. Theresa.
Hogarth said: “Sleep two hours”, and went out, turning the key.
But in half an hour O'Hara had started awake, sober, and, clapping his palms over his face, burst into tears.
That Hogarth might be capable of impeachment before a Court of Admirals, followed by death on the block, he feared; and he rolled, groaning, tugging his tonsure-fringe, which, on the forehead, lay a thin grey forelock, thinking: “Guilty wretch that I am! putrid, unwholesome, hopeless, I have befouled the holiest: how richly do I deserve to die!”; and even as he groaned and smote, his secret mind weighed up the chances of Hogarth's action.
He rose, listened, rushed to the door, found it locked, tossed up despairing hands, and tottered to the altar, at which he knelt, all sighs, and dying fish-eyes, and sideward-languishing face, and weary woe. Ah! how great the mountain of his iniquity: if he might be but once more spared, his evil remainder of days he would bury in some Carmelite retreat, with fastings and prayers; but no—he had too much tempted the Eternal patience, the sword was out against him. Yet he implored, he implored with groans: with half an eye, meanwhile, on the door; and, having with regard to Hogarth a piece of secret knowledge which he guarded deep for some possible emergency and use (the fact of Hogarth's Jewish birth), as he prayed, his brain with complete detachment worked out the question whether he might now reveal this with advantage.
Hogarth found him kneeling, said “Get up”, and O'Hara stood, leaning upon the rail, too faint to stand unpropped, Hogarth contemplating him, tapping the toes.
“Well, sir! I know all: your whole past”.
“Red as crimson—!” went O'Hara faintly, with tossed hands.
“Red enough, Admiral. You are a bad old man: merit death”.
“Ah, God knows it, my Lord King! I do assure you, I am a leprous wretch: and I welcome death—I pray you, I pray Heaven, for it—”
“You should have it, if you were a better, or a younger, man: but I will not stain the Empire of which you were chosen to be a stay, and are the shame, with the blood of such as you. You are beneath judgment: and that clemency which is our scutcheon I extend to you. Live, therefore, and repent, O'Hara. I, however, you understand, now turn from you for ever. And I discharge you like a menial, sir. See to it that within six months you have your affairs regulated, and send in your resignation to the Government”.
He turned and went; and, as he disappeared, O'Hara straightened, coolly went “H'm!”, and took snuff. He lived, he lived: while there is life there is fun.
Fumbling about, searching for nothing, all relieved and rescued, yet stunned, he suddenly exclaimed: “What a noble fellow is my son Hogarth!”, and knelt again.
Hogarth in the same hour was away for England; and on the fourth evening thence, the street-lamps just lit, stood before No. 11 Market Street, Edgware Road, come for Margaret; his carriage waiting at a corner forty yards away; and though within the last hour he had realized vividly that his voyage to theMahomethad given Frankl time to remove her, or accomplish any devilish device in his power with respect to her, he was now all prospect and expectancy.
The house was three-storied, mean, unlighted, with an “area”; from a neighbouring window a woman screaming down to some playing children; and under her a shop sending out that fishy fume which “drove Asmodeus back to hell”.
He rapped, received no answer, rapped again without reply, then stepped down and back, looking up: and suddenly, faintly, but distinctly, he heard her voice, high up—singing.
“O what a pretty place,And what a graceful city,Where the striplings are so gay,And the ladies are so pretty “.
It was she! He ran and banged at the door: no reply.
Back again he stepped; and now a window on the top floor went up, and she, putting out her head, twice beckoned him—listlessly, it seemed, then drew in; and instantly—again—he heard her sing.
As once more he ran to the door, he discovered now that it was open, darted into darkness, up uncarpeted stairs, making for that upper room, vague light through grimy stair-windows guiding his impassioned dash; and on the third floor entered a room with two doors, beyond one of which was the room he sought: but that door was locked.
At it he pushed, fumbled, called: “Margaret!” No reply. And suddenly he heard her singing, not before, but behind him.
“Happy day! Happy day!When Jesus washed my sins away “...
When he flew to the other door, and now found it, too, locked, gradually in that gloom all colour faded from his face; and the voice sang on: “Happy day! happy day”....
The Manifesto's “month of grace” was passing, yet nothing had been done, second-rate Powers awaiting the Great, while the Great, appalled by the bigness of the demand, fussed and intrigued, consulted, fermented and proposed: but did nothing.
But at last, on the 3rd of December, the First Lord of the Treasury laid a Bill on the table of our Commons—at the end of an Autumn-session!
On the 3rd: and on the 1st the Lord of the Sea had been captured near Edgware Road, the probability being that this Bill was brought forward with a knowledge of that capture.
It consisted of three clauses and two schedules—called The Land Purchase Bill; and it had only to be published to produce the stormiest agitation ever known.
The Opposition was the Jew-Liberal-Labour party; and when the Labour Congress (met at Manchester) denounced the measure, there occurred a “split”, a Liberal-Labour cave, the whole body of Jews, numbering 87, retiring to the Government ranks.
The Bill proposed the “purchase” of Britain from its “owners” by the British, the price fixed being 27 times the annual value, to be paid in settled annuities for entailed estates, and in consols for unentailed.
So, then, the Government would buy London alone for 1400 millions and Britain for 8000 millions—a bad lookout for England.
And the authors of the Bill chose a moment when Hogarth was living on bread and poisoned water in Market Street.
It rapidly passed to Committee, and then to the Lords.
But on that night a terrifying rumour for the first time pervaded England: that the Lord of the Sea, having come to London at the beginning of the month, was missing, and that his person had been claimed from our Government by the Sea under menaces.
In fact, when a week, two weeks, had passed, and not a whisper from Hogarth, apprehension had turned into certainty in the breasts of Quilter-Beckett, Loveday, and all: and at a hurried Council called in theBoodahon the 19th, when the date of Hogarth's landing at Southampton was determined, and his small train-in-waiting, his coachman, re-examined for the twentieth time, one certainty emerged: Frankl had had time to reach England before him; and the arrest of Frankl was demanded.
Now England in consternation almost forgot the Land Bill; Scotland Yard ransacked Market Street: not a trace of Hogarth; it dissected the country for Frankl: but Frankl was now in theMahomet, safely conferring with O'Hara.
The popular tempest first directed itself against the League of Resistance: and at an attack upon its Offices in Victoria Street during the afternoon of the 21st Viscount Reid (the Secretary), and a girl, were killed by missiles; petitions signed by the nation raining meanwhile upon the Prince of Wales: for, apart from the wreck which threatened, Hogarth's popularity was at present considerable with the masses, whose instincts suspected those above them of knowing more of his disappearance than appeared.
On the night of the 22nd, when things had an air of revolution, fifty-three men met in a house in Adair Street, W. (This runs parallel to Market Street, the backs of the two house-rows facing.)
These were the warders of Hogarth: and the object of that night's meeting was to determine whether he should die, and when, and how; the Land Bill now awaiting the Royal Assent; and on the morrow British high-sea trade to be ruthlessly stopped, failing news of Hogarth.
The room was double, with an arch in the partition, through which ran a rough-board table surrounded with velvet arm-chairs; the floor richly carpeted, though paper peeled from the walls; down the table a procession of silver candlesticks and typewritten notice-papers and agenda; the windows boarded—a second floor; and in a room near, Hogarth, shackled hand and foot, he having been borne through a subterranean way, made for the purpose, from the cellar in Market Street to this Adair Street.
From eight o'clock men began to let themselves in at the two doors in both streets, and continued to arrive till nine, when a marquis at the table-head rose to speak, the others leaning back with downcast eyes, nearly all pale.
The point before them was plainly put by the speaker on the Question: viz., whether they had more to fear from the life, or from the death, of the Lord of the Sea.
“By a strange Providence”, he said, “this man is in our hands: and we have the right to become his executioners. My Lords and Gentlemen, the awful decision rests with you to-night”.
Then, one after another, they rose, they spoke: no two views identical; till at ten it was voted that the question be put, voting papers went round, and presently the ballot-result was announced amid a momentous stillness.
Twenty-eight had voted for the death, twenty-five against.
But in that minute a key was heard in the room door, and in rushed two flushed men: Frankl and O'Hara, just arrived in London from the sea; and Frankl burst into speech:
“I hope this is all right, my lords, my coming like this, and bringing into your very midst a gentleman who is not one of us. When I tell you that he is Admiral Donald of theMahomet, turned away like a servant, how does that make your lordships feel? A house divided against itself can't stand; and this gentleman has a scheme in his pocket—he will read it to your lordships—which will crack up the Empire of the Sea like an egg-shell! So I do hope, my lords, that you have not decided anything hasty about putting away Richard Hogarth: for unless he is liberated this night, it means sure and certain stoppage of everything tomorrow: andthatmeans my ruin, and many another's beside—”
Now the Master called him to order, and addressed himself to O'Hara, who, in admiral's uniform and stars, all stately bows, grave smiles, in ten minutes had given guarantees, was a member, and in thirty had read a memorandum of a scheme of betrayal which everyone saw to be feasible.
Then the vote of death was annulled; and when the meeting broke up Hogarth was being lifted with bandaged eyes through the subterranean way to Market Street, where four men deposited him near the house-door, undid his ropes, said to him “You are free”, and there he remained twenty minutes without motion, deadly sick, then rose, and, on finding the door, went wildly with dragged feet, tottered into a cab, and leant brow on hand.
As he entered the porch of his Berkeley Square house, Loveday rushed out to his knees with adoring eyes, having hardly hoped to see again that face of Hogarth, while Hogarth patted the bowed head, saying: “Do get me a meal, and let me hear what has been going on....Oh, I am weary “.
And during the meal he heard all: of the Land Bill, the turmoil.
“Well, my God!” he exclaimed, “is there no drop of generous blood at all among those people? Never again do I trust them to make their own arrangements I When does this precious Bill have the Royal Assent?”
“To-morrow, it is supposed”.
“Really!”—he started: “and whereabouts is the Prince of Wales?”
“At Windsor to-night”.
“Order the motor quick. I'll go”.
He was soon off, and Loveday, listening to the dark story of Margaret's appearing and singing, and vanishing, accompanied him under a frosty moon, snow lying on village-street and hedge; but, travelling hard, they arrived shortly after one upon a Prince who, a wakeful man that night, sat conferring with Private Secretary and Attorney-General, he having assented to the introduction of the Land Bill, then been alarmed by the storm, and now was confronted with the responsibility of either giving His Majesty's assent, and earning execration, or refusing it, and taking a step unheard-of since William III.
In that state of embarrassment he was, when the Lord of the Sea was announced, and “It is with heartiest pleasure that I offer to your Lordship's Majesty my congratulations on this re-appearance”, he said, greatly and gladly surprised, without at all seeming so.
And the two conferred till three, when a secretary, at Hogarth's dictation, wrote a document and its duplicate: a contract between Prince and King, giving pledges on each side, private, yet most momentous; and each, having signed both copies, retained one.
The next evening the Clerk in the Lords uttered those unusual words: “Le Roy s'avisera,” and the country was thrown into transport by the news of the Royal rejection of the Land Bill, processions singing the National Anthem, bells ringing: and for a month the mention of a Royal name in any assembly brought the people to their feet.
Ministers, of course, resigned; and, as the Liberals refused office, writs for a new House were made returnable for the end of January.