The Weight of the Crown
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But here he was at last, making a dramatic entrance at exactly the proper time, and surprising even the man who had brought this mischief about.
"The constitution of an ox," Varney told himself. "With a heart like his, too! And yet an hour ago he was looking death in the face. I'll try that drug again."
The king came forward smiling and at his ease. He bowed to the queen, and placed her hand to his lips. Then he extended his fingers to Lord Merehaven.
"My dear lord, I am much distressed to be so late," he said. "I dare say the queen will have told you the reason why I have been delayed. Ah, good evening, Count Gleikstein. Prince Mazaroff, I wonder you are not ashamed to look me in the face."
Mazaroff muttered something and looked uncomfortable. He was understood to ask what he had done.
"Now there is an elastic conscience for you!" the king cried. "That man comes between me and my duty to my people, and then he asks what he has done! He knows that love of pleasure is my stumbling-block, and he plays on my weakness. Only this very afternoon he comes to me with a proposal which I find utterly irresistible. My dear prince, I shall have to forswear your company. You had no right to take me where you took me to-day."
Mazaroff stepped back puzzled and confused. He had decided that he knew his man well, but here was an utterly unexpected phase of his character.
"You gave me certain papers to sign," the king went on. "Positively, I have utterly forgotten what they were all about. Nothing very important, or I should not have presumed to sign them. Something to do with concessions, were they not?"
"That is so, please your majesty," Mazaroff stammered. "It is a matter that will keep. If you will go over the petition at your leisure? As a liberal-minded man myself – "
"My dear Mazaroff, your liberal-mindedness is proverbial. But as to those papers, I lost them. Positively, they are nowhere to be found. You must let me have others."
A curious clicking sound came from Mazaroff's lips. The face of Count Gleikstein turned pale with anger. There was a comedy going on, and the grave listeners with their polite attention knew what was happening quite as well as if the conversation had been in plain words.
"Your majesty is pleased to jest with me," Mazaroff said hoarsely.
"Indeed I am not, my good fellow. Blame yourself for the excellency of that brand of champagne. We dined somewhere, did we not? I must have changed somewhere after, for I distinctly remember burning a hole in my shirt front with a cigarette, and behold there is no burn there now! Somewhere in the pocket of a dress-coat lies your precious concessions."
"I think," the queen said with some dignity, "we had better change the conversation. I do not approve of those medieval customs in my husband. Ah, Madame Peri is going to sing again."
There was a hush and a stir, and the glorious liquid notes broke out again. Mazaroff slipped away, followed presently by Count Gleikstein. The latter's face was smiling and gay as he addressed some remark to Mazaroff in a low tone, but his words were bitter.
"You senseless fool," he said. "How have you managed to blunder in this idiotic way? And after everything had been so perfectly arranged. It would have been known to-morrow in every capital in Europe that the Queen of Asturia attended the important diplomatic and social function alone. We could have hinted that the king had already fled. In the present state of feeling in Asturia that would have insured the success of the revolution."
"And the occupation of Russia in the interests of peace," Mazaroff sneered. "My dear Gleikstein, I am absolutely dumbfounded. It was as the king says. I lured him into a house where only the fastest of men go, a gambling den. I saw that act of abdication in his pocket. I saw him so helplessly intoxicated that it was any odds he was not seen before morning. I arranged for him to be detained where he was. To-morrow the thing would have been done; it would have been done to-day but he was past signing. Then he comes here clothed and in his right mind. It is amazing. We shall have to begin all over again, it seems to me."
"We certainly have received a check," Gleikstein admitted with a better grace. "But there are other cards to play yet. Those papers missing from the Foreign Office, for instance. To get to the bottom of England's game will be a great advantage."
"Don't you know that we have been beaten there as well?" said Mazaroff.
"You don't mean to say so! Impossible! Why, the countess sent a cypher message to say that she had been entirely successful. The message was not sent direct to me, of course, but it came by a sure hand about eight o'clock. The countess had not read those papers, but they were most assuredly in her possession. She promised me that – "
"Well, she is no longer in a position to fulfil her promise," said Mazaroff. "To return, the papers were most impudently stolen from her house. It is quite true, my dear Gleikstein, that we both realize the powerful secret combination that we have to fight against. Don't you see what a clever lot they are! How they have tracked our deeds and acts! How did they manage to recover the king and bring him here clothed and in his right mind? Why, the thing is nothing less than a miracle. Then the countess loses those papers almost before they are in her possession. It is any odds that she had not even sufficient time to glance at them."
"But you are quite sure that the papers have been lost, Mazaroff?"
"Absolutely certain, though the countess did not tell me so. She left here in a violent hurry on her maid coming to say that there had been a burglary at her house. I heard all that in the hall. The maid said that nothing but papers had vanished. One glance at the face of the countess told me what papers those were. And so we have a powerful combination against us who can work miracles and undo our best efforts almost before the knots are securely tied. For the present we are beaten, and it will be just as well for you to realize it thoroughly."
Gleikstein would have said more, but Lechmere lounged up at the same moment. His grey, lean face was quite smooth and placid; there was a smile on his face.
"What are you two old friends conspiring about?" he asked.
"There is never any conspiracy so far as diplomacy is concerned," Gleikstein said smoothly. "We are all crystal wells of truth. Who told you we were old friends?"
"My eyes," Lechmere said quite coolly. "And my excellent memory. It is idle to try and deceive an old queen's messenger like me. You look puzzled, both of you. Cast your minds back to 15th November, 1897, at Moscow. It was at the Hotel Petersburg. Three men were playing loo. There was a waiter with one eye in the room. Come, there is a puzzle for you."
And Lechmere lounged on as if anxious to catch up a passing acquaintance.
"What does he mean?" Mazaroff muttered anxiously. "What does the fellow know?"
CHAPTER XXI
"FOREWARNED, FOREARMED"
Gleikstein looked as utterly puzzled as his companion. They glanced at one another in a guilty kind of way. Evidently the allusion to the Hotel Petersburg mentioned by Lechmere conjured up some painful and none too creditable associations.
"There was only one other man present, and he has totally disappeared," said Gleikstein. "Now how did that man come to know all about it? One never seems quite to get away from the past."
Somebody attracted Gleikstein's attention, and Mazaroff wandered off into the garden. He was uneasy and disturbed in his mind, and anxious over the failure of his plot. It seemed as if the whole affair was little better than an open secret. As an agent of Russia, he was anxious to see the abdication of the throne by the King of Asturia. Asturia was a stumbling-block south in the path of Russian progress. Once the king had abdicated or been forced from his throne by a revolution, Russia would certainly step in under the plea of the maintenance of peace in a notoriously turbulent region. They might concede to European opinion by placing a puppet on the throne, but henceforth Asturia would be no better or worse than a Russian province. If this was accomplished, then Mazaroff netted a fortune. Only to-day it had seemed in his grasp.
And with the swiftness of a lightning flash, everything had changed. The puppet had been torn from Mazaroff's hands; those compromising papers had vanished from Countess Saens's drawer. At the present moment Lord Merehaven was in a position to shrug his shoulders, and say that those suspicions must be verified before he was prepared to admit anything. It was a comedy on both sides, but it remained a comedy so long as those papers were not forthcoming.
Mazaroff was brought back out of the grave of these gloomy reflections by a footman who tendered him a note. There was no answer, the servant said, he had merely had to deliver the letter to Prince Mazaroff. With a new interest in life, Mazaroff recognized the Countess Saens's neat writing. He read the letter slowly and thoughtfully, then tearing it in small pieces he dropped the fragments into the heart of a laurel bush. A slow, cruel smile spread over his dark face.
"So that is the game," he muttered. "Strange that I did not spot it before. Still, the marvellous likeness would have deceived anybody. The maid was not far wrong after all. Well, at any rate, I shall have some sport out of this. Who knows what it may lead to?"
Quite eagerly Mazaroff dropped his cigarette and returned to the house. He walked from one room to the other as if looking for somebody. He was in search of Miss Galloway, he said. Had anybody see her lately? He had an important message to deliver to her from Countess Saens. The cry was taken up – it became generally known that Vera Galloway was sought after.
One had seen her here and one had seen her there, but nobody knew anything definite. The more difficult the search became, the more Prince Mazaroff appeared to be pleased. The quest came to the ears of Dr. Varney at length. He dropped the ever-pleasant conversation in which he was indulging with a famous lady novelist and became alert instantly.
"I fancy I can find her," he said. "Who seeks her so closely at this time of night?"
"Prince Mazaroff," a girl laughed as she passed by. "Is it a proposal, do you think, doctor? Fancy being proposed to by a real prince!"
But Varney was anxious behind his answering smile. His name had not been mentioned in the business at all. He was quite free to cross-examine Mazaroff without the latter being in the least suspicious. And Varney had a pretty shrewd idea that Mazaroff regarded him as an elderly old fossil who had a child's mind outside the regions of science. He pottered up to the Russian presently.
"What are you seeking?" he asked. "Is there anything that I can do for you?"
"Yes; I am looking for Miss Galloway," Mazaroff said, with a gleam in his eye that told Varney a great deal more than the speaker imagined. "I have an important message for her."
"Well, tell me what it is and I will deliver it," Varney said with a vacuous smile. "As the family physician there are no secrets from me. Who seeks Miss Galloway?"
"Tell her the Countess Saens," Mazaroff said. "I fancy she will understand that. I have just had a letter – "
But Varney had wandered off as if the conversation did not in the least interest him. As a matter of fact, he was both startled and uneasy. Mazaroff had been too communicative in the hour of his supposed triumph, and he had told Varney everything. Mazaroff had had a letter from the countess, and the countess had guessed, on finding her precious papers missing, exactly what had happened. On making inquiries, Countess Saens had discovered that there was a double of Miss Galloway somewhere, and she had asked Mazaroff to make sure of the fact. And Mazaroff was the very man who was wholly responsible for the appearance of Jessie Harcourt at Merehaven House. But for his flagrant insult of the girl she would not have been here at all. There was danger in the air.
And the danger was not lessened by the fact that Jessie had not returned. People presently would begin to think it strange that Miss Galloway was not to be found. And if those two came face to face – Jessie and Mazaroff – what an explosion there would be!
Well, forewarned was forearmed, Varney told himself as he walked back to the house. Jessie would be back before long, and then the whole thing must come out. But Jessie had done good work, not only on behalf of her new friend Vera Galloway, but also on behalf of England and the peace of Europe. This pretty, resolute, sharp girl had suddenly become an important piece in the great game of diplomatic chess. If necessary, Merehaven must be told everything. He must be shown the absolute importance of checking Mazaroff and rendering his last stroke utterly futile. When Merehaven came to know what had happened, he would be compelled to stand by the side of Jessie Harcourt. It would have to be a strong game of bluff, Varney decided. Merehaven would be properly indignant when the confession came; he would refuse to believe that his niece could be party to anything of the kind. Jessie could come into the room if Mazaroff decided to make an exposure, and sit with becoming dignity. She would decline to listen to the Russian's preposterous suggestion, and with all the dignity at his command Merehaven would back the girl up. Varney began to chuckle to himself as he thought of Mazaroff's discomfiture.
But whilst Mazaroff was hunting round for the double of Miss Galloway, never dreaming that she also had left the house, Merehaven must be warned. It was a difficult matter to detach the old diplomat from the circle surrounding him, but Varney succeeded at length.
"Now what is the matter?" Merehaven said tartly. "Another surprise? Really, I seem to be living in an atmosphere of them to-night, and I am getting too old for these shocks. What is the matter?"
"A great deal, or I would not bother you in this way?" Varney said. "Make an excuse to get away for a few minutes and go to your study. It is absolutely imperative that I should have a word or two with you before you speak to Mazaroff again."
Merehaven complied with a sigh for his lost social evening. He went off in the direction of his study, but Varney did not follow him direct. On the contrary, he lounged into the garden intending to enter the study by the window, which he knew to be open. By the time he reached the garden he had a full view of Merehaven bending over his writing table as if dispatching a note. At the same instant a figure rose from behind a group of rose trees and confronted Varney. As her black wrap fell away he had no difficulty in recognizing the features of Jessie Harcourt.
"I am back again, you see," she said breathlessly. "It is such wonderful good fortune to meet you here so soon, and where we can speak at once. Dr. Varney, have I missed anything? Is there anything that you have to tell me? Have I been missed? Nothing has happened since I left?"
"Not till the last moment," Varney said. "My dear child, positively I can't stay a moment to tell you. It is imperative that I should have a few words with Lord Merehaven at once, before Prince Mazaroff can get to him. Stay here under the shadow of the house; keep your wrap over your head. Nobody is likely to come out again to-night. And please to listen to everything that is going to be said, because the conversation will give you the clue that I cannot stay to afford you now. Ah!"
Varney darted forward until he reached the window of the library, and then he stumbled into the room as if he had found his way there quite by accident. At the same moment Mazaroff entered from the hall. His face was pale, his eyes glittered with something of sneering triumph. He advanced to the writing table and laid a hand on Lord Merehaven's shoulders.
"May I ask your lordship's attention for a moment?" he said. "I have something important and, I am afraid, very painful to say to you."
Jessie strained her ears to listen.
CHAPTER XXII
THE TRAIL GROWS
As Jessie sat there by the bedside of her new-found friend, she hardly knew what to say. It was impossible, after all that Jessie had seen and heard, to believe that the papers so boldly purloined by Vera Galloway were not of the least importance. Otherwise there would not have been all those alarms and excursions, and most assuredly Countess Saens would have made no attempt to get into the hospital. Vera had handled the missing Foreign Office documents beyond a doubt.
"Cannot you recollect anything about them?" Jessie urged.
"Absolutely nothing at all," Vera replied. "You see, I was so utterly overcome by the success of my daring exploit that I was half dazed. I had saved the situation, and I had saved Charlie Maxwell also. I suppose I must have crossed Piccadilly in a dream. Then there was a violent shock, and I came to my senses; but only for a moment, and then I was utterly unconscious till I arrived here. I had just sense enough left to remember that I was called 'Harcourt,' and there it ended."
"And yet I suppose all your underlinen is marked?" Jessie suggested.
"Only with a monogram, one of those intricate things that nobody could possibly understand. But look round, and see if you can find any trace of those papers. In a vague way I remember clutching them tightly in my hand as the cab struck me."
But there were no papers to be seen. The nurse knew nothing of them, and the hall porter was equally sure that the patient carried nothing as she entered the hospital. Doubtless they had fallen in the road and had been picked up by somebody who would not have the slightest idea of the value of their contents. It was so cruelly hard that the tears rose to Vera's eyes.
"It does seem terrible," she said, "after all the risk and all the danger. I could cry out when I think of it, I could sit up in bed and scream. And to think that those documents are perhaps lying in the gutter at this very moment! Jessie, is there nothing you can do?"
"I can have faith and courage," Jessie replied. "I will ask Dr. Varney what is best to be done. At any rate, there is one way in which we have the better of our foes. They know that the papers are stolen, but they don't know that they have been lost again. I dare say Dr. Varney will think of a plan. But I cannot believe that Mr. Maxwell was guilty. I saw him just now, as I told you, and I am quite certain that he is no traitor to his country."
"I hope not," Vera said. "It seems almost incredible. When Charlie's face rises up before me, I feel that I have been dreaming. Yet I know that he has been exceedingly friendly with the Countess Saens. There was assuredly a kind of flirtation between them. I tried to believe that I was needlessly jealous. I should have thought no more about it until I received that anonymous letter – "
"Anonymous letter!" Jessie exclaimed. "That is the first time that you have mentioned it at all to me."
"Because I forget. As a matter of fact, I had no opportunity. It was only just before I came to you in my distress and trouble. The letter was beautifully written on very good paper. I am quite sure that it emanated from a lady of education. It simply said that if I would save the man I loved from ruin, I had better contrive to find my way into the Countess Saens's bedroom to-night between the hours of nine and eleven. Also, I was to open the second drawer of the Dutch cabinet, the key of which I should find on the top of the clock. You see, I had heard my uncle mention this Asturian trouble. The queen was a friend of mine, and I divined what was going to happen. I tried to see Charlie, but I was baffled there.
"Then you came into my mind, and I determined to put a desperate resolve into execution. I knew Countess Saens's house well; she took it furnished from some friends of ours, and I had been in every room there. I knew the countess was coming to my aunt's party. And when I started out on my errand I was more or less in the dark until I heard those dreadful newsboys proclaiming the tragedy. Then one or two hints dropped by the Queen of Asturia came back to me, and I knew then the import of my mission. That mission was accomplished, as you know. How I failed at the very last moment you already know."
"But I am not going to admit that you have failed," Jessie urged. "There can be no question of the fact that you dropped those papers. It is equally certain that somebody picked them up. They would be nothing to an outsider, who would probably take them to Scotland Yard. I decline to admit that we are beaten yet."
"It is very good of you to say so," Vera said gratefully. "You will have to play my part till to-morrow, when Dr. Varney must contrive to come and see me. He will have to certify that I am quite well enough to be moved, and then I shall proceed in a cab to your lodgings, still passing as Jessie Harcourt. You will write to your sister and ask her to be prepared. Then you will come home and we will change clothes once more, so that nobody will be any the wiser. Don't worry about anything; be prepared and silent, and leave matters to my maid. And never again so long as I live shall you want a friend, Jessie. God bless you!"
Jessie rose and kissed the tearful face of the speaker. The nurse was hovering about again with a suggestion that it was high time the visitor departed. Jessie blessed the long black wrap and hood that Varney's foresight had provided her with, seeing that she would have to walk home. She would not have been afraid under ordinary circumstances, but the spectacle of a well dressed woman walking in that guise at dead of night was likely to attract attention. As a matter of fact, it did attract attention, for a man passed Jessie at the hospital door.
"Don't be alarmed," he said. "It is I – Charles Maxwell. Glad to find that a turned-up collar and hat pulled over the eyes makes so much difference. How is she Miss – Miss – "
Maxwell boggled over the name, and Jessie did not help him. Miss Galloway was going on very well indeed, but she had had her perilous errand for nothing. There was no object whatever in Mr. Maxwell committing a second attack on the house of the countess, seeing that the precious documents had already been abstracted by Vera Galloway. That Miss Galloway had lost the papers made no difference.
"That's very unfortunate," Maxwell said with a little sigh. "A brave and daring action like that should have been fully rewarded. Still, it gives us breathing time; it enables me to defy the foe. Let me walk back with you as far as the garden gate of Merehaven House. We shall pass the residence of Countess Saens on the way, and we may notice something."
Jessie had no objection to make. On the contrary, she was glad of a male companion. Usually she did not mind being out late; but then she was not dressed for society, and the shoes she wore were not satin ones with old paste buckles.
Very silently they walked along the now deserted streets. Then Maxwell paused, and indicated a house on the opposite side of the road. A brilliant light burned in the hall, and in the dining-room the electrics were fully on. The lace blinds were half down, and beyond the bank of Parma violets and maidenhair fern in the window boxes it was possible to obtain a glimpse into the room.
"The countess is at home," Maxwell whispered. "I know that for certain. I don't fancy she has gone out again, for a messenger boy was summoned to the house. Ah, there she is!"
By stooping a little it was possible to see the figure of the countess. She had discarded her jewels and her flowers; she had a tiny cigarette in her mouth. She took her place at a table and seemed to be writing something. Presently a man entered the room – a slight man, with a pale face and a mass of flame-coloured hair on his head; across his gleaming white shirt an order or two glittered.
Maxwell grasped Jessie's arm; he spoke with a fierce indrawing of his breath.
"Do you see that?" he whispered "Do you recognize anybody in that figure standing there – the man, I mean?"
"The King of Asturia," Jessie replied promptly. It was not possible to be quite certain at that distance, but the dining-room was flooded with light. Beyond doubt here was the ruler of Asturia, whom Jessie had left not so long before in a state of collapse.