“I think your friend the Duke of Reist is a very interesting man,” Sara Van Decht remarked, “but as a dinner companion he’s just a little depressing. I wonder what father and he will find to talk about.”
Ughtred laughed. They had just come out from the restaurant, to find the great hall almost full. Reist and Mr. Van Decht were sitting a little apart from them.
“Reist is a very good fellow,” Ughtred declared, “but just now he is not very much in the humour for gaiety. He is passionately attached to his country, and Theos, alas, is passing through a very anxious time in her history. No, you must not judge him by his demeanour to-night. I had much difficulty in persuading him to accept your father’s invitation.”
She nodded sympathetically.
“Has he come over to obtain aid from England?” she asked. “From the papers this morning it seems as though one of the Powers would have to interfere and straighten things out.”
Ughtred looked down with grave, steadfast eyes into the girl’s upturned face. It was time for him to tell her. How ridiculous it would sound. She would probably laugh at him.
“Reist came to England,” he said, “to find me.”
She looked at him in mild wonder.
“You! But you are no longer interested in Theos, are you?”
He sighed.
“I have been an exile for many years,” he said, “and Theos has come to mean little else to me save a beautiful memory. Yet I have never forgotten that she is my native country. I am never likely to forget it.”
“Do you hope ever to return?” she asked.
“I hope to be in Theos within a week,” he answered. “I am returning with Reist.”
She looked up at him startled, but deeply interested.
“You mean it?” she cried. “Oh, tell me!”
“You have read of the downfall of the Republic,” he continued. “Reist assures me that the people will never tolerate another. They speak already of a King, and, Miss Van Decht—you must not laugh, please—I am the only surviving member of the royal family of Theos.”
She gasped.
“You are to be King!” she exclaimed.
“The people have sent for me,” he answered, simply. “Of course there are difficulties, and after all it may not come to pass. Still, the crown is mine by right, and I am going to strike a blow for it. We leave for Theos to-morrow.”
“A King! To-morrow!” she repeated, vaguely.
She was bereft of words. Ughtred laughed nervously.
“Miss Van Decht,” he said, “it isn’t altogether a prospect of fairyland. There are many things to be given up. There are many things which a man may possess but a King can only covet. I have become somewhat of a Bohemian in my wanderings, and myfreedom is very dear to me. Yet I think that I am doing right in making this attempt. I love Theos, and it will be a joy to fight her battles. I love the old city and the mountains and the wild country. I may not be a patriot like Nicholas of Reist, but the old war music seems to leap and burn in my blood when I think of the Turks creeping nearer and nearer to the frontier, and our ancient city full of foreign spies, gathered together like carrion birds before the massacre. It is intolerable!”
She was thoughtful and sympathetic.
“Yes,” she said, softly; “it is right that you should feel like that. Ours is a new country, and there is nothing about her beautiful or historic. Yet, if she were in danger—oh, yes, I understand. You are right to go. May you be successful!”
A crash of martial music from the band filled the air with ringing melody, and for a moment they sat silent. Ughtred took up his as yet unlit cigarette, and Sara sipped her coffee. Around them were little groups of men and brilliantly-dressed women. The pleasant hum of conversation and light laughter came to them with something of an inspiring ring. Down the broad promenade two men were walking. Sara touched her companion on the arm with her fan.
“Look!” she whispered.
Ughtred recognized Hassen with a frown, and his companion with a sudden thrill of interest. They were coming slowly down from the restaurant, talking earnestly together, and by the side of the tall, distinguished-looking man, who was listening to himwith so inscrutable a countenance, Hassen appeared almost insignificant. Nicholas of Reist, who had moved from his chair to fetch an evening paper, met them face to face. He would have passed on with a contemptuous glance at Hassen, but that the older man turned and accosted him with grave yet pleasant courtesy.
“The Duke of Reist is far from home! This is indeed a surprising meeting.”
Reist started as he recognized the speaker. He cast a single lightning-like glance at Hassen, who lingered by.
“It is as welcome as surprising,” Reist answered, quietly. “I had promised myself the pleasure of paying my respects at the Embassy to-morrow.”
“You will not, I trust, let anything interfere with so amiable an intention,” was the suave reply. “You and I should have much to say to each other, Reist. You have a vacant chair here, I see. Will you allow me to take my coffee with you?”
“I shall be much honoured,” Reist answered, quietly. “As you say, there is much which we might discuss. Will you permit me to introduce you to my friends?”
The faintest indication of surprise was followed by a murmur of delighted assent. Hassen, perplexed and white with anger, moved away. The two men threaded the little maze of chairs and palm trees and women’s skirts, and reached the corner where Sara and Ughtred sat. Reist gravely performed the introduction.
“Miss Van Decht, will you allow me to present to you the Prince Alexis of Ollendirk, Miss Van Decht—Mr. Van Decht. Ughtred, I am sure you two shouldknow one another. Prince Alexis of Ollendirk, Ughtred of Tyrnaus.”
The Prince, who had bowed low and gracefully to Sara, held out his hand frankly to Ughtred.
“To number Tyrnaus amongst one’s acquaintances,” he said, “has been an honour for centuries. I knew your father, Prince Ughtred. His Majesty was always very good to me. The Gold Star of Theos is amongst the most treasured of my possessions.”
More coffee was ordered by Mr. Van Decht, and cigarettes. A measured and somewhat curious conversation followed. The Russian Ambassador talked to Sara chiefly. Ughtred seemed to interest him only as a pleasantly-met acquaintance. They exchanged views on Paris and Vienna, and Prince Alexis pleaded eloquently for the charms of his own city. With consummate skill he led the conversation to Theos.
“The most picturesque country in Europe,” he declared, “to-day I fear the most unfortunate. You see, Mr. Van Decht,” he continued, turning towards him, “it is not always that a great country can exist and be developed upon democratic principles. Theos, under the royal House of Tyrnaus, had at least a recognized place amongst the European States. To-day she has lost it. Of her future—no man can speak with certainty.”
The Russian leaned back and lit a cigarette. Yet Reist felt that he was being watched by those half-closed, sleepy eyes. He leaned a little forward and lowered his voice.
“I am a man of Theos, bred and born,” he said,slowly, “and the future of my country is as my own future. I am not in this bastard government, as you doubtless know, Prince Alexis, but I have the confidence of the people. They have come to me for counsel, they have asked me how best they can secure their continued independence. It is a great emergency this, and since we have met here I am venturing to ask for your advice. You have a precise knowledge of the situation, you know the country, the people, our environment. How best do you think that I could answer them?”
The Russian smoked thoughtfully for a moment. In the little clouds of blue smoke which hung about his head he seemed to be seeking for inspiration. Was this simplicity, he wondered, or had Reist indeed a hidden purpose in seeking to make him declare himself?
“It is not an easy question which you ask, my friend,” he answered at last. “Yet, after all, I doubt whether more than one course is open to those who would direct the destinies of your country. Theos is a weak State hemmed in by powerful ones. She is to-day the certain prey of whomever might stretch out his hand—even her ancient enemy the Turk. So, after all, it is not difficult to offer you good advice. I would say to you this: Let her seek out the strongest, the most generous of those environing Powers, and say to her frankly, ‘Give me your protection’ and I believe that for the sake of peace her prayer would be promptly answered.”
Reist was silent. Ughtred, who had been listening intently, interposed.
“The advice,” he said, “sounds well, but it seems tome to have one weak point. It is her independence which Theos seeks above all things to retain. The protection of any one Power must surely jeopardize this.”
“By no means,” Prince Alexis answered, blandly. “Let us take my own country for example. Russia is great enough and generous enough to befriend a weakened state without any question of aquid pro quo. A love of peace is the one great passion which sways my master in all his dealings. For the sake of it he would do more even than this.”
“The Czar does not stand alone,” Reist remarked, thoughtfully. “He has many advisers.”
“To whom he listens,” Prince Alexis answered, “when it pleases him. It is said in this country, yes, and in others, that the Czar is a puppet. We who know only smile. For, my dear Reist, it is true that there has not reigned in Europe for many years a greater autocrat than he who sits on the throne of Russia to-day. But to return to the subject of Theos. Your danger seems to me to lie here. Supposing that the present state of disquiet continues, or any form of government be set up which does not seem to promise permanent stability. Then it is very likely that those stronger countries by whom Theos is surrounded may, in the general interests of peace, deem it their duty to interfere.”
“Theos,” Reist said, proudly, “is not yet a moribund State. She has an army, and at the first hint of invasion all political differences would cease.”
Prince Alexis smiled, and raised his tiny glass of liqueur.
“Floreat Theos!” he said, lightly. “Long may she continue to retain her independence—and to know her friends.”
They all raised their glasses. From Reist came a whisper, little more than a breath—
“Long live the King!”
Prince Alexis made the toast the signal for his departure, murmuring something about a diplomatic reception which his duty forbade him to ignore. In the lobby Hassen brushed up against him.
“A word with your Highness outside,” he murmured.
The Ambassador signified assent by a scarcely-noticeable gesture. He lit a cigarette and leisurely buttoned his fur coat. A swift glance towards the little party in the corner showed him that Reist was missing.
“You had better slip into my carriage quietly,” he said to Hassen. “Our good friend the Duke of Reist is on the lookout somewhere, and it would be better that he did not see us together.”
Hassen nodded, and preceded the Ambassador, who lingered to speak to some acquaintance. In a few moments he followed, pausing with his foot upon the carriage steps as though to re-light his cigarette. He looked quickly up and down the pavement. At the corner of Pall Mall and the Haymarket a man was standing with his face half turned in their direction. He shrugged his shoulders and entered the carriage.
“The Duke of Reist is interested,” he remarked to Hassen. “Come, my friend, what have you to say?”
“First of all, then,” Hassen began, “your bribe toMetzger was large, but you will never get your money’s worth. You have worked hard for the political disruption of Theos. It may chance that you have failed utterly.”
The Ambassador nodded pleasantly.
“Possibly,” he admitted. “I do not quite follow you, though. Metzger has been chased from the country. There is no government, no law, no order. The Powers cannot permit this to continue. A protectorship will be proposed within a week.”
“It will be four days too late,” Hassen answered. “In less time than that Theos will occupy a stronger position politically than ever before.”
“You surprise me,” the Ambassador admitted, politely.
“Do you think that the Duke of Reist is the sort of man to be dining at London restaurants whilst his country bleeds to death!” Hassen exclaimed. “Bah! His presence here with Ughtred of Tyrnaus to-night is no chance affair. There is a deep scheme on, and broadly I have fathomed it.”
“Yes?”
“Theos has had enough of Republics. She is going to try a King. It is Reist himself who put the idea into their heads. He has come as the envoy of the people to Ughtred of Tyrnaus.”
“That,” the Ambassador remarked, “will not do at all.”
“You think so, knowing nothing of Ughtred of Tyrnaus. I know him well, and if you wish Theos to become a Russian province he is the very man inEurope to baulk you. He is brave, shrewd, patriotic, and a fine soldier. If he ever reaches Theos the people will worship him. He will make order out of chaos. He will hold the reins and he will be proof against the wiles of your agents. Short of absolute force you will not be able to dislodge him.”
“He must not reach Theos,” the Ambassador said, thoughtfully. “The man’s very physique will win him the throne ... and I believe that you are right. The House of Tyrnaus has never been friendly towards Russia. What will your master say, Hassen?”
The man smiled grimly.
“Do we want a soldier King in Theos?” he asked, “when our soldiers are creeping northwards to the Balkans day by day? You are ready to seize by intrigue and by stealth—we are preparing to strike a blow of another sort.”
The Ambassador smiled. The Turkish soldiers were brave enough, but in Constantinople at that moment was a Russian envoy on secret business, who had very definite instructions as to the occupation of Theos. It is possible, however, that Prince Alexis had forgotten the fact, for he did not mention it.
“At least,” he said, “one thing is clear. Ughtred of Tyrnaus must be delayed.”
Hassen shrugged his shoulders. The gesture was expressive.
“It will be worth—say five thousand pounds to you,” the Ambassador remarked, carelessly, “to make sure of it.”
Hassen nodded and stepped out of the carriage.They had drawn up before one of the embassies, and his arrival with Prince Alexis was not a thing to be advertised.
“I shall do my best,” he said, slipping away in the crowd.
“Why, yes, I shall miss you. Isn’t that natural?”
“I hope so,” he answered. “I shall never forget these days.” She laughed gaily. The music was playing something very soft and low. Reist had not yet reappeared.
“Isn’t that a little rash, my friend? You love experiences, and you are going to enter upon a very wonderful life. You are much to be envied.”
“Sara,” he said, “you must come to Theos.”
She laughed outright in frank and unrestrained merriment.
“You must talk to father,” she said. “I dare say he will come. He loves new countries. Only I’m sure he won’t behave properly at Court. He’s a terrible democrat, and he likes to shake hands with everybody.”
“He shall shake hands with me as often as he likes,” Ughtred said. “You must remember, Sara, that royalty in Theos is not exactly like royalty in this country. Why, my whole domain is not so large as some English counties. I mean to go about my kingdom exactly like a private individual. Come to Theos, and we will play racquets in the throne room.”
She shook her head.
“The smaller the kingdom, as a rule,” she said, “themore circumstance and etiquette surround the Court. I do not think that you will be allowed to play racquets in the throne room, or to shake hands very often with a Chicago stock-jobber, even though he is my father. We shall come and gaze upon you from afar.”
“So long as you will come,” he replied, confidently, “we will see about the rest. Do you know, Sara, it would almost spoil everything if I felt that this change in my life were to disturb—our friendship.”
She drew a long palm leaf through her fingers and let it fall regretfully. It was cool and pleasant to the touch. A violin, hidden somewhere amongst the waving green, sent strange notes of melody out through the court, and a little man, bravely dressed in scarlet and yellow, bobbed up and down over his instrument. The girl was thinking—wondering! It was so sudden a change, this. Ughtred Erlito had been a delightful friend—but Ughtred of Tyrnaus! It was so strange a transition. She kept her eyes fixed upon the marble floor, and her heart beat for a moment or two to the sad music of the wailing violin. Then she sprang to her feet—the folly had passed. With one sudden movement one of the little ornaments hanging from her bracelet became detached and rolled away. Ughtred recovered it, and would have fastened it upon the gold wire, but she stopped him.
“It is my four-leaved clover,” she said. “See, I shall give it to you. May it bring you good fortune. Floreat Theos!”
He held it in his palm—a dainty ornament set with diamonds and quaintly shaped.
“Do you mean it?” he asked.
“Why, of course,” she answered. “If it is not exactly a coronation present, it will at least help to remind you—of the days before you were a King.”
“I need no trinkets to remind me of some things,” he answered, quietly, “but Theos will give me nothing which I shall prize more than this. I shall keep it, too, as a pledge of your promise. You will come to Theos?”
“Yes, I will come,” she answered.
Nicholas of Reist was by their side, dark, almost saturnine in his black evening clothes and tie. His presence had a chilling effect upon them both. Sara rose to her feet.
“Will you see if you can find father?” she said to Ughtred. “He was talking to some Americans who went into the restaurant.”
He moved away. She turned quickly to Reist.
“I wanted to ask you,” she said. “You live in Theos, and you can give me an idea. What is there that I can send Prince Ughtred for a coronation present?”
“That is a very difficult question to answer,” Reist said. “Will you not be a little more explicit? A steam yacht would be a present, so would a cigarette-case.”
She nodded quickly.
“Yes! I should have explained. Money is of no consequence at all. I had thought of a team of horses and a coach.”
He was suddenly serious. He eyed the girl with a new curiosity. She then was one of the daughters ofthis new world before whose golden key every Court in Europe had yielded. She was of striking appearance, perhaps beautiful, instinctively well bred. She might be destined to play a part in the affairs of Theos.
“‘Money is of no consequence at all,’” he repeated, thoughtfully. “We are poor folk in Theos, Miss Van Decht, and we do not often hear such words.”
“Sometimes I think,” she said, “that our wealth is our misfortune. Now you understand, don’t you? Prince Ughtred was very kind to us at Cairo and on the voyage back, and we have seen quite a little of him in London. I should like to give him something really useful. Please suggest something.”
“I will take you at your word then, Miss Van Decht,” he answered. “Send him a Maxim-Nordenfeld gun. If you want to be magnificent, send him a battery.”
She looked at him in amazement.
“Do you mean it?” she exclaimed.
“I do,” he answered. “Prince Ughtred is a very keen soldier, and he is never tired of praising these guns. For the first year or two at the least we shall have troublous times, and a battery of maxims might save all our lives and the throne. Theos has, alas, no money to spend in artillery, though her soldiers are as brave as any in the world.”
“Father and I will see about it to-morrow,” she declared. “Hush! here they come.”
Ughtred was approaching with her father, and watching him it occurred to her for the first time how well his new part in life would become him. He was tall andbroad, and he moved with the free, easy dignity of a soldier accustomed to command.
“I have found your father,” he said, “and your carriage is waiting. I thought that if Reist would excuse me for half-an-hour——”
Reist interrupted him at once.
“You must not go away,” he declared, earnestly. “Not for five minutes. Believe me it is necessary.”
“My dear fellow——” Ughtred protested.
“Is it possible,” Reist exclaimed, with some impatience, “that you do not recognize the great misfortune of this evening? I was wrong to allow you to come—to be seen in London with you. Prince Alexis is more than an ordinary ambassador. He is a born diplomatist, a true Russian—he is one of the clique who to-day rule the country. With Hassen’s aid he has, without a doubt, surmised the purport of my visit to you. By this time he is hard at work. Let me tell you that if he can prevent it you will never set foot in Theos. There must be no more delay. Come!”
Sarah held out her hand. Her eyes met his frankly.
“The Duke of Reist must be obeyed,” she said. “I am sure that he is right. Good-bye, Prince Ughtred! You are very fortunate, for you have a great and noble work before you. May you succeed in it. I shall hope and pray for your success.”
A little abruptly she turned away and took her father’s arm. The two men watched them disappear—the little grey-headed man with his ill-cut clothes, and hard, shrewd face, and the tall, graceful girl, whose toilette was irreproachable, and whose carriage and bearingmoved even Reist to admiration. They passed down the carpeted way and through the swing-doors. Then Reist touched his companion on the arm.
“It is half-past eleven,” he said. “We are going to catch the twelve o’clock train from Charing Cross.”
The whistle sounded at last, the train began to glide slowly away from the almost deserted platform. But at the last moment a man came running through the booking-office, and made for one of the compartments. He tugged at the handle, wrenched it open, and was preparing for a flying leap when an inspector seized him. There was an altercation, a violent struggle—the man was left upon the platform. Reist drew a long breath of relief as he settled down in his corner.
“The way these things are managed in England,” he said, “it is excellent.”
Ughtred shrugged his shoulders. Reist had been dumb for the last half-hour, and he was puzzled.
“Will you tell me now,” he asked, “the meaning of it all?”
“The meaning of it all is—Hassen!” Reist answered. “How long have you known him?”
“We fought together in Abyssinia,” Ughtred answered, “and I found him always a capital soldier and a pleasant companion.”
“Did you ever ask him where he learnt his soldiering?”
“Once—yes!”
“Did he tell you?”
“I do not think that he did. He told me frankly enough that he had no past—that it was not to be referredto. There were others like that in the campaign, men who had secrets to bury, men who sought forgetfulness, even that forgetfulness which a bullet brings. We were a strange company enough. But the fighting was good.”
“And since then you have met him again in England?”
“I met him at a little fencing-academy six months ago, and since then we have fenced together continually. But for your recognition of him I should have written him down as harmless.”
A spot of colour burned in Reist’s cheek. He ground his heel into the mat.
“Harmless! He! A Turk! A Russian spy! A double-dealing rogue. Sword in hand I have chased him through the Kurdistan valley all one night, and if I had caught him then Russia would have lost a tool and the Sultan a traitorous soldier. He holds still, although an absentee, a high command in the Turkish army, and all the while he is in the pay of Russia. Prince Alexis knows of my mission to you by now, and if we reach Theos we are lucky, for I do not think that a Tyrnaus upon the throne of Theos would suit Russia at all.”
“I may seem stupid,” Ughtred said, seriously, “but it is necessary that I should understand these things. Why should Russia object so much to my reinstatement upon the throne of my fathers? Surely of all the nations of Europe one would expect from her the least sympathy with a democratic form of government.”
“Russia is above all sympathies or antipathies,” Reist answered, bitterly. “She is the most self-centred, the most absolutely selfish nation on earth. The presentstate of turmoil in Theos is owing largely to the efforts of Muscovite secret agents. Russia desires a weak Theos. She wants to stand behind the government and pull the strings. It is she whom we have most to fear now.”
Ughtred lit a cigar and leaned back in his corner. He was still in his evening clothes, and he looked doubtfully at the window-panes streaming with rain.
“Neither Russia nor her agents can interfere with us on neutral soil,” he remarked. “I wish, Reist, that you had let me send for my bag. I shall be a very dilapidated object by the time we reach the frontier.”
“My wardrobe,” Reist answered, “is at your service immediately we are upon the boat. I am smaller than you, but I have some things which may be useful. Now I will tell you something which will help to explain my haste. When first I saw Hassen and Prince Alexis together I understood that we must change our plans, and I sent for your bag. Your rooms were then being watched front and back. My servant bribed a postman to go to your door and ask for you. He discovered that a gentleman was already in your rooms waiting for you. They are very much in earnest, these people, my Prince. It will need all our wit to reach Theos.”
“We will reach it, though,” Ughtred said, softly. “We are on our guard, and there can be no means of forcibly detaining us. In a quarter of an hour we shall be at Dover.”
Reist nodded. He was examining the chambers of a revolver which he had drawn from the pocket of a loose ulster.
“Let us remember,” he said, “to avoid all strangersand to speak to no one unless compelled. We know nothing of Theos. We are returning to Budapesth, and, Prince Ughtred, there is a revolver in the pocket of your coat also, not for use but for show. We must not be led into a disturbance with any one. Mind, it is the policy of every one to detain us if once the object of our journey is known. In Germany we shall not be safe, in Austria every moment will be perilous. But once across the frontier nothing will avail. I had news from Theos this morning. The people are on fire for your coming.”
The train slackened speed. The lights of Dover flashed out on either side. They drew up at the town station and waited there for some minutes. Reist let down the window and addressed a porter.
“Why do we not go on to the harbour?” he asked. “We are already late.”
“There is a special coming in just behind you, sir,” the man answered. “We shall send you both along together.”
Reist thanked him and turned to Ughtred with a little laugh.
“So we are to have a travelling companion,” he remarked, dryly. “Our friends are not to be caught asleep. We must watch for the occupant of this special train. We shall know then against whom we have to be upon our guard.”
They moved slowly on again. Behind them was an engine and a single carriage. Reist let down both windows, and a fresh salt wind blew in upon their faces. In a few moments they were at the landing-stage.
Reist leaped lightly out, and Ughtred followed him. Opposite was the gangway leading to the steamer, through which a little crowd of passengers were already elbowing their way. They lingered on its outskirts and watched the single carriage drawn by the second engine. It drew up within a few feet of them, and a tall, fair young man handed out his portmanteau to one of the porters and leisurely descended on to the platform. Ughtred recognized him with a little exclamation of surprise.
“Why, it’s Brand!”
He would have moved forward but for Reist’s restraining arm.
“Wait! Who is he?”
“A newspaper man,” Ughtred answered. “An honest fellow and a friend. I will answer for him.”
“He was at your rooms with Hassen,” Reist said, quickly. “I would trust no one whom I had seen with that man. Let him pass. We will follow him on board.”
But it was too late. Brand possessed the quick, searching gaze of a journalist, and already, with a little start of surprise, he had recognized them.
“Erlito,” he exclaimed. “What luck!”
Erlito shook hands with him, laughing. They turned towards the boat together.
“Have you become a millionaire, my friend,” he asked, “that you must travel in special trains?”
Brand shook his head.
“Personally,” he remarked, “I am in my usual lamentable state of impecuniosity. Nevertheless, for themoment I am representing wealth illimitable. That is to say, I am in harness again.”
Reist looked askance at them both. He did not understand. Ughtred was suddenly grave.
“I must ask you where you are going,” he said. “There is no rumour of war, is there?”
Brand hesitated.
“Speaking broadly,” he answered, “I have no right to tell you. But the circumstances of our meeting are peculiar. To tell you the truth, I am bound for Theos.”
Reist’s face was dark with anger—Ughtred’s blank with amazement. Brand hastened to explain.
“The Duke of Reist,” he said, “probably does not understand my position. I am a special correspondent to theDaily Courier. They send me at a moment’s notice to any place where interesting events are likely to happen. Our chief has been studying the aspect of things in Theos, and half-an-hour ago I had my route. It was the same, Erlito, when I travelled with you to Abyssinia!”
Ughtred nodded thoughtfully.
“That is true,” he remarked. “Reist, I am sure that we can trust Mr. Brand. He is not in league with any of those who would hinder us upon our journey.”
“That may be so,” Reist answered, “but he knows too much for our safety. There must be an understanding between us. A single paragraph in his newspaper to-morrow as to our journey, and we shall have as much chance of reaching the moon as Theos.”
Brand, who was writing upon a telegraph-form,paused at once. They were on the side of the steamer, remote from the bustle of departure, and almost alone.
“There is likely to be trouble, then, on the frontier, or before?” he inquired. “You have opponents?”
“So much so,” Reist answered, fiercely, “that if we were in Theos now, and you talked of filling the newspapers with idle gossip of us and our affairs, we should not stop to argue the matter with you.”
Brand laughed softly.
“I don’t want to do you any harm,” he said. “We must compromise matters.”
Reist misunderstood him.
“An affair of money,” he exclaimed. “I understand. We will give your paper one, two hundred pounds, to make no mention of Theos for a week.”
Brand glanced at Ughtred with twinkling eyes.
“The special train which brought me here cost more than that, I am afraid,” he said. “Believe me, Duke, it is not a matter of money at all. The proprietors of my paper are millionaires. What they want is information. When I spoke of a compromise I meant something entirely different.”
“Perhaps you had better explain exactly what you mean,” Reist said, curtly. “I do not understand this Western journalism. It is new to me.”
Brand nodded.
“Good!” he said. “You want to keep this journey secret until you are safe in Theos. Very well, I will send no message to my people until you give me leave. Only you must supply me then with exclusive information.And you must see that I am the first to cable it from your country.”
“That is an agreement,” Reist answered, solemnly. “If you will keep to that I am satisfied.”
They were already in the Channel. A wave broke over the bows of the vessel, drenching them with spray. Brand led the way down-stairs.
“Since we are to be fellow-passengers,” he said, “let us drink to our prosperous journey—and Theos.”
Reist touched Ughtred’s arm upon the stairs.
“He is to be trusted, this friend of yours?” he whispered, anxiously.
“Implicitly,” Ughtred answered, with emphasis.
“Then we are very fortunate,” Reist said, “for it is such a man as this whom we wanted.”
“Monsieur will pardon me!”
Ughtred glanced up, startled. For an hour or more he had been watching with fascinated eyes the great rolling pine forests through which the train was rushing. Brand and Reist were in the restaurant-car—Ughtred was rapidly becoming too excited to eat. They had entered upon the last stage of their journey. Somewhere away beyond that dim line of mountains was Theos. So far they had been neither accosted nor watched. This was the first stranger who had addressed a word to either of them.
“You wished for a seat here?” Ughtred asked.
The priest, who had come through from the dining-car, held between his fingers an unlit cigar. His fat, good-humoured face was a little flushed. He had the appearance of a man who has found his dinner a satisfactory meal.
“It is yourcoupé, I understand, monsieur,” he answered, “but the smoking-car is full. I wondered if monsieur would permit me to occupy his friend’s seat until he returns. One misses a smoke so much.”
He looked longingly at the cigar. Ughtred rose and cleared off the rugs and papers which were spread over the vacant seats.
“My friends, I am sure, will have no objection,” he declared. “I think that there is room for all of us.”
The priest was volubly thankful. He lit his cigar and puffed at it with obvious pleasure.
“Monsieur is doubtless a great traveller,” he remarked, urbanely. “For me a journey such as this is an event—a wonderful event. Not once in many years do I leave my people. Monsieur will be amused, but it is indeed ten years since I found myself in a railway train.”
Ughtred was reserved, but the priest was quite willing to bear the brunt of the conversation so long as he had a listener. It appeared that he was on his way to visit his brother, who was a prosperous merchant in Belgrade. And monsieur?—if he were not too inquisitive—should he have the pleasure of his company all the way?
Ughtred hesitated for the fraction of a second. Reist was passing along the corridor with imperturbable face, but with his cap in his hand—an agreed upon sign of danger. So Ughtred, to whom a lie was as poison, braced himself for the effort.
“I go even farther than you,” he declared. “My journey is not ended at Constantinople.”
The priest’s fat face was wrinkled into smiles. It was most fortunate—his own good fortune. For himself he was so unaccustomed to travel that he found it impossible to read. He was excited—besides, it gave him the headache. To converse only was possible. But after all he had no right to inflict himself thus upon monsieur. He had perhaps affairs to attend to—or he desired to sleep? Ughtred, who found it impossible to suspect this fat, simple-mannered man so shabbilydressed, so wrapped in enjoyment of his bad cigar, smiled, and shook his head. They drifted into conversation. Ughtred learned the entire village history of Baineuill, and was made acquainted with the names and standing of each of its inhabitants from Jean the smith to Monsieur le Comte, who was an infidel, and whose house-parties were as orgies of the evil one.
“And monsieur,” the priest asked, ingenuously, “monsieur is perhaps a soldier? I have talked so long of my own poor affairs. It must be tedious.”
Just then Reist and Brand passed along the corridor, laughing heartily. Brand paused, and with a bow to the priest held out a paper to Ughtred.
“Read that, Brand!” he exclaimed. “These papers are the drollest in the world.”
Ughtred looked up puzzled, but took the paper held out insistently towards him. At the bottom of an illustration were a few pencilled words.
“Be careful! Remember! You are W. B. The priest has been asking questions about us!”
Ughtred read, and smiled. The priest leaned forward.
“It is a joke, eh? Monsieur will permit me also? It is good to laugh.”
Brand was equal to the occasion. He took the paper quickly away from Ughtred.
“Monsieur,” he said, removing his cap, “the joke which I pointed out to my friend has, without doubt, humour, but the journal, as you see, is for the students. Monsieur will excuse me if I refrain from offering it to him.”
The priest acquiesced with a graver face, and some show of dignity.
“But I fear, monsieur,” he said to Brand, “that I am occupying your seat. You wish to return here, beyond a doubt?”
Brand shook his head.
“By no means, monsieur,” he declared. “For the present, at any rate, I am engaged elsewhere.”
They passed along the corridor. Glancing up at the priest, Ughtred was aware of a slight change in his expression. His brows were contracted, he was immersed in thought. The change was momentary, however. Soon he was again chattering away—still always of his own affairs. But there came a time when he wound up a little speech with a question.
“Is it not so, Monsieur Brand—was not that how your friend called you?”
Ughtred assented.
“My name is Walter Brand,” he answered.
Again there came that faint change in the priest’s face.
“Monsieur will not think me curious,” he said. “He is perhaps a soldier?”
Ughtred shook his head.
“I have seen some fighting,” he said, “but I am not a soldier. I am a journalist, if you know what that means—one who writes for the newspapers. My friend whom you saw speak to me just now is a soldier by profession.”
The priest nodded pleasantly.
“And he, like yourself,” he asked, “is he, too, English?”
Ughtred looked around, and lowered his voice.
“He has been in the English army, but he is not an Englishman. He has had a very unfortunate history. I wish that I could tell it to you, but the time is too short, and he does not like to be talked about.”
The priest’s face shone with sympathy.
“Poor fellow!” he murmured.
“Brand!”
They both looked up. Brand himself had entered thecoupé. There was a slight frown upon his forehead, and his tone was curt.
“I wish you would explain to the conductor about our tickets,” he said. “He is very stupid, and I cannot make him understand.”
Ughtred rose at once and left thecoupé. Brand bowed gravely to the priest.
“I trust monsieur will excuse me,” he said, “for interrupting what I am sure must have been a very agreeable conversation.”
The slight foreign accent was beautifully done. Brand was as tall as Ughtred, and although not so broad his carriage was good and his natural air one of distinction. The priest smiled benignly upon him.
“I fear,” he said, “that I have already wearied your friend. My life must seem so humdrum to him, and to you, who have travelled so far and seen so much. For I, monsieur, as I have told your friend, have lived all my days in one quiet country place, and this journey is a great event for me.”
Brand slipped into the vacant seat. In the vestibule Ughtred met Reist. He drew him into the smoking-compartment.He was very pale, and his voice shook with emotion.
“The priest,” he said, “is a creature of Domiloff’s. You were on your guard?”
Ughtred nodded.
“What a famous fellow Brand is. Up to now, at any rate, his scheme has worked. He is personating me bravely, and really we are very much alike.”
“He will be too clever for him,” Reist said. “It is a matter of time. Do you know that in half-an-hour we shall be at the frontier?”
“So soon?” Ughtred exclaimed.
“Listen! I had a message from our friends at Limburg. The train will be searched at the barrier. There will be a determined attempt to prevent your entering the country. Theos is in a state of hopeless confusion. The motion to repeal your sentence of banishment is still before the House of Laws. The Custom officers, and I am afraid the Government officials, have been heavily bribed by Russia not to pass you across the frontier.”
A bright light flashed in Ughtred’s eyes.
“So we shall see,” he muttered.
“They have a plan ready for us, no doubt,” Reist continued, “and that priest is in it. Never mind. We shall outwit them. If only your friend Brand is equal to his part.”
“The man is a born actor,” Ughtred said. “I left him playing the Prince as I could never have done it. I do not think that Domiloff’s man will find him out.”
Reist pulled the window softly down and looked out. The train was passing across a high bridge. Below, the river wound its way through a stretch of rocky, broken country.
“We are barely twenty miles from my home—the castle of Reist is to the left of the hills there. In a few minutes the train will stop. Be ready to follow me, and do exactly as I do.”
“But we are not timed to stop until we reach Gallona!”
“Never mind,” Reist answered. “This will be a stop that does not appear upon the time-table. It is the plan of those who are working for us in Theos, and it is good. At the village station of Moschaum the signals will be against us, and we shall stop. Our task is to leave the train unseen—it may be difficult, but I have bribed all the servants, and they are preparing to see nothing. There will be horses waiting for us—and then—then it will be a gallop for a kingdom.”
“The plan seems good enough,” Ughtred said, thoughtfully, “and I am in your hands. But what about Brand?”
Reist shrugged his shoulders.
“He is one of those who love adventure, and I do not think that he can come to any harm. Let him play out his game. It was his own idea to personate you, and the risk is his own. Ah!”
There was a sudden slackening of speed. The brakes were on and the whistle sounding. Reist strolled to the platform of the car as though to look out, and Ughtred followed him. A conductor unfastened the gate andslipped away. The train had come to a standstill in a tiny station, a little wooden building with a cupola, and everywhere surrounded with a dense forest of pines. Reist looked swiftly round.
“Now,” he said. “Follow me.”
They slipped from the train on the side remote from the platform, and in half-a-dozen strides had reached the impenetrable shelter of the trees. Then there was a whistle. The train crawled onward serpent-like with its flaring electric lights and the shower of sparks which flew upwards from the engine. An hour later Ughtred, riding in silence and at breakneck speed with Reist at his elbow crossed the frontier of his kingdom.
“Prince Ughtred of Tyrnaus.”
Brand awoke from a hideous nightmare, sat up on a rude horsehair couch, and held his head with both hands. He was conscious of a sense of nausea, burning temples, and a general indisposition to take any interest in his surroundings. He sank back upon his pillow.
“Oh, rot,” he murmured. “Go away, please.”
There was a short silence, then footsteps, and the newcomer bent over the sofa.
“Drink this.”
The invitation was alluring. Brand’s throat was like a limekiln. He sat up and took the proffered tumbler into his hands. The liquid was cold and sparkling—almost magical in its effects. He drained it to the last drop, and then looked curiously about him.
“Where the mischief am I?” he asked; “and who are you?”
The newcomer stood in the light from the window. He was a short and thick-set man, with iron-grey hair and black moustache slightly upturned. He had a pallid skin and keen grey eyes. His manner was at once grave and conciliatory.
“Your memory, Prince,” he remarked, “is scarcely so good as mine. I have had the pleasure of seeing you but once before, yet I think that I should have recognized you anywhere.”
“Oh, would you!” Brand remarked, beneath his breath.
“I will recall myself to your memory,” the other continued, blandly. “My name is Domiloff!”
“Domiloff, of course,” Brand echoed. “You are still——”
“Still the representative of Russia to the State of Theos. It is true.”
“And where am I?” Brand asked, looking around the bare, lofty room with some surprise; “and what am I here for?”
“You are in the House of Customs at Gallona. I met the train at the frontier to secure the honour of a little conversation with you before you proceeded to the capital. I found you exceedingly unwell, and took the liberty of bringing you here that you might have the opportunity of resting a little before completing your journey.”
Brand rose slowly to his feet. He was still giddy, but rapidly recovering himself. His last distinct recollection was the coffee which he and the priest had ordered in theircoupé. There was a peculiar taste—a swimming in his head—afterwards blank unconsciousness.
“You have been most considerate, I am sure,” he said, slowly. “I am glad to have your explanation, otherwise my presence here, under the circumstances, might have suggested unpleasant things to me.”
Domiloff’s lips parted in an inscrutable smile. He remained silent.
“I might have remembered,” Brand continued, “that I was travelling with two friends. What has become of them?”
Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.
“It was most unfortunate,” he declared. “The train pulled up for a moment at a wayside station, and they appear to have descended—and to have been left behind.”
Brand nodded.
“I might also have remembered,” he continued, stroking his moustache thoughtfully, “a priest whose interest in his fellow-passengers was a little extraordinary—a cup of coffee pressed upon me, a queer taste—bah! Why waste time? I was drugged, sir, with your connivance, no doubt, and brought here. What is the meaning of it?”
Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.
“You assume too much, my dear Prince,” he declared, blandly. “Let us not waste time by fruitless discussion. I will admit that I was particularly anxious to have a few minutes’ quiet conversation with you before you entered the capital. The opportunity is here. Let us avail ourselves of it.”
“Well?”
Domiloff coughed. He had expected a torrent of indignation and abuse. His guest’s nonchalance was a little disquieting.
“You are entering,” he said, “upon a troublesome inheritance.”
“Well?”
“It is an inheritance,” Domiloff continued, “which you can neither possess yourself of, nor hold, without powerful friends.”
“Well?”
“My country is willing to be your friend.”
“Your country,” Brand remarked, quietly, “is renowned throughout the world for her generosity.”
Domiloff bowed.
“You do us, sir,” he said, “no more than justice.”
Brand smiled.
“Well! Go on!”
“Theos is in a state of hopeless confusion,” Domiloff remarked. “It is very doubtful whether the actual state of the country has been represented to you. The people are all clamouring for they know not what, law and order seem to be things of the past. South of the Balkans the Turks are massing; northwards, the mailed hand of Austria is slowly being extended.”
“And Russia?” Brand asked. “It is not her custom to remain in the background.”
“Russia,” Domiloff said, “desires to be your friend. She will secure for you the throne, and she will guarantee your independence.”
“At what price?”
Domiloff shrugged his shoulders.
“You are very suspicious, my dear Prince,” he said. “My master does not sell his favours. He asks only for a reasonable recognition of your gratitude. I have here the copy of a treaty which will secure you against any foreign interference in the affairs of your kingdom. Its advantages to you and to Theos are so obvious that it is idle for me to waste time by enlarging upon them. Read it, my Prince.”
“I shall be charmed,” Brand exclaimed, stretching out his hand for it.
“You would doubtless prefer,” Domiloff said, “to look it through alone. I will return in half-an-hour.”
“You are very thoughtful,” Brand answered. “By the bye, you will excuse my denseness, but I am not quite clear as to our exact relations at the present moment. I am, I presume, at Gallona?”
The Baron bowed.
“It is indisputable!”
“At an hotel?”
“You are,” Domiloff declared, “my honoured guest.”
“Is it part of your diplomacy to starve me?” Brand asked, coolly, “or may I have some breakfast?”
Domiloff touched the bell.
“My dear Prince!” he exclaimed, deprecatingly.
A servant entered with a tray—cold meats and a flask of wine. Outside the window a sentry walked up and down. Brand eyed him thoughtfully.
“I think that I should like a stroll,” he remarked. “My head is still heavy.”
Domiloff advanced, and laid his hand upon his shoulder.
“My dear Prince,” he said, “I beg that for the present you will not think of it. It is of the utmost importance that your presence upon the soil of Theos should not be suspected. I have a special train waiting to take you to the capital. Until we start it will be far better, believe me, that you do not attempt to leave this room.”
“At what hour do we start?” Brand asked.
Domiloff hesitated.
“It depends,” he said, slowly, “upon circumstances.”
Brand sat down and poured himself out a glass of wine.
“That means when I have signed the treaty, I suppose?”
Domiloff was already at the door. He affected not to hear.
“If your Highness will ring when you are prepared to give me an audience,” he said, “I shall be entirely at your service.”
Brand ate and drank, threw himself into an easy-chair, and lit a cigarette. Presently he tried the handle of the door. It was locked. He moved to the window and looked out. Below was an old courtyard enclosed within high grey walls and iron gates, through which he could catch a glimpse of the town. The wide, open space, half square, half market-place, was crowded with people in strange costume, having baskets of fruit and vegetables, before which they squatted and called out their wares. Beyond were houses with vivid, whitewashed fronts, red roofs, and narrow windows. At the gates were stationed two soldiers in red tunics and broad white trousers, very baggy, and tucked into their boots. They were bareheaded, and they smoked long cigarettes, chattering meanwhile to one another and the people around in a dialect which to Brand was like a nightmare. He watched them for a while, and laughed softly to himself. This was an adventure after his own heart.
He looked at his watch. It was three o’clock.
“So Reist and the Prince were left behind,” he murmured. “It was very well arranged. By now they should be on their way to the capital. I must make this last out as long as possible. What a coup!”
He lit another cigarette, and turned the treaty over in his hands. Here he met with a disappointment. There were two copies, one in Russian, the other in the Thetian language. He could not read either. After a few moments’ deliberation he rang the bell.
Domiloff hurried in, expectantly.
“You are ready for me?” he asked. “You have read our proposals? You will perhaps now be disposed to admit the generosity of my master?”
Brand shrugged his shoulders.
“As yet,” he said, coolly, “I am in a position to admit nothing. As a matter of fact, I cannot read this document. I cannot read Russian, and I have forgotten nearly all Thetian. You must have a copy made for me quickly either in French or English.”
Domiloff started. A momentary shade of suspicion darkened his forehead.
“Forgotten your Thetian, Prince?” he exclaimed. “Your native tongue!”
“You forget that I have been an exile from Theos ever since I was a child,” Brand answered. “I can understand a word or so here and there, but that is not sufficient. It is necessary that I should have an exact and precise comprehension of your proposals.”
Domiloff took up the document.
“I will make a copy myself,” he said. “It will not take long. I hope that you will soon find your recollectionof the language revive, Prince. You will find the people sensitive about it.”
Domiloff seated himself at the table, and for some time there was silence in the room except for the scratching of his pen. Brand lounged in the easy-chair—amused himself by speculating as to the end of his adventure. Presently there was a sharp tap at the door. A messenger entered, and conversed for awhile with Domiloff in Russian. He was dismissed with a few rapid orders. Domiloff turned round in his chair and faced Brand.
“Prince Ughtred,” he said, “I have disturbing news from the capital. The disorder in the city is so great that the Powers must intervene at once unless some decisive step be taken. I have finished my translation. Sign it and you shall enter into your kingdom before sunset.”
Brand smiled.
“I will give you my answer,” he said, “in ten minutes.”
Domiloff bowed.
“I shall await your decision, Prince,” he said. “Only remember this. To-night there must be a King of Theos or a Protectorate.”