The Great Court Scandal

Chapter Twenty Two

Shows Hinckeldeym’s Tactics

Five weeks later.

A hot summer’s night in Treysa. It was past midnight, yet before the gay, garish cafés people still lingered at the little tables, enjoying to the full the cool breeze after the heat and burden of the day, or strolled beneath the lime avenues in the Klosterstrasse, gossiping or smoking, all loth to retire.

In the great palace beyond the trees at the end of the vista the State dinner had ended, and the lonely King, glad to escape to the privacy of his own workroom in the farther wing of the palace, had cast himself into a long lounge-chair and selected a cigar. He was still in his military uniform, rendered the more striking by the many glittering orders across his breast – the Golden Fleece, the Black Eagle, the Saint Hubert, the Saint Andrew, and the rest. As he lit his cigar very slowly his face assumed a heavy, thoughtful look, entirely different from the mask of careless good-humour which he had worn at the brilliant function he had just left. The reception had not ended; it would continue for a couple of hours longer. But he was tired and bored to death of it all, and the responsibility as ruler already weighed very heavily upon him.

Though he made no mention of it to a single soul, he thought of his absent wife often – very often. Now and then a pang of remorse would cause him to knit his brows. Perhaps, after all, he had not treated her quite justly. And yet, he would reassure himself, she was surely not as innocent as she pretended. No, no; she was worthless. They were therefore better apart – far better.

Since his accession he had, on several occasions, been conscience-stricken. Once, in the empty nursery, he had noticed little Ignatia’s toys, her dolls and perambulator, lying where the child had left them, and tears had sprung to his eyes. Allen, the kindly Englishwoman, too, had been to him and resigned her appointment, as she had no further duties to perform.

The Crown Princess’s disappearance had at first been a nine-days’ wonder in Treysa, but now her continued absence was regarded with but little surprise. The greatest scandal in the world dies down like grass in autumn. Those who had conspired against her congratulated themselves that they had triumphed, and were now busy starting fresh intrigues against the young Queen’s partisans.

Since the hour that his sweet-faced wife had left the palace in secret, the King had received no word from her. He had learned from Vienna that she had been to Wartenstein, and that her father had cast her out; but after that she had disappeared – to Rome he had been told. As Crown Prince he had had his liberty, but now as King he lived apart, and was unapproachable. His was a lonely life. The duties of kingship had sobered him, and now he saw full well the lack of a clever consort as his wife was – a queen who could rule the Court.

Those about him believed him to be blind to their defects and their intrigues, because he was silent concerning them. Yet, if the truth were told, he was extremely wideawake, and saw with regret how, without the Queen’s aid, he must fall beneath the influence of those who were seeking place and power, to the distinct detriment of the nation.

Serious thoughts such as these were consuming him as he sat watching the smoke rings ascend to the dark-panelled ceiling.

“Where is she, I wonder?” he asked himself aloud, his voice sighing through the room. “She has never reproached me – never. I wonder if all they have told me concerning her is really true.” As he uttered these words of suspicion his jaws became firmly set, and a hardness showed at the corners of his mouth. “Ah, yes!” he added. “It is, alas! only too true – too true. Hinckeldeym would never dare to lie to me!”

And he sat with his serious eyes cast upon the floor, reflecting gloomily upon the past, as he now so very often reflected.

The room was luxurious in its appointments, for since his father’s death he had had it redecorated and refurnished. The stern old monarch had liked a plain, severe, business-like room in which to attend to the details of State, but his son held modern ideas, and loved to surround himself with artistic things, hence the white-and-gold decorations, the electric-light fittings, the furniture and the pale green upholstery were all in the style of the art nouveau, and had the effect of exquisite taste.

A tiny clock ticked softly upon the big, littered writing-table, and from without, in the marble corridor, the slow, even tread of the sentry reached his ear.

Suddenly, while he was smoking and thinking, a low rap was heard; and giving permission to enter, he looked round, and saw Hinckeldeym, who, in Court dress, bowed and advanced, with his cocked hat tucked beneath his arm, saying, —

“I regret, sire, to crave audience at this hour, but it is upon a matter both imperative and confidential.”

“Then shut the inner door,” his Majesty said in a hard voice, and the flabby-faced old fellow closed the second door that was placed there as precaution against eavesdroppers.

“Well?” asked the King, turning to him in some surprise that he should be disturbed at that hour.

“After your Majesty left the Throne Room I was called out to receive an urgent dispatch that had just arrived by Imperial courier from Vienna. This dispatch,” and he drew it from his pocket, “shows most plainly that his Majesty the Emperor is seriously annoyed at your Majesty’s laxness and hesitation to apply for a divorce. Yesterday he called our Ambassador and remarked that although he had degraded the Princess, taken from her all her titles, her decorations, and her privileges, yet you, her husband, had done absolutely nothing. I crave your Majesty’s pardon for being compelled to speak so plainly,” added the wily old fellow, watching the disturbing effect his words had upon his Sovereign.

“That is all very well,” he answered, in a mechanical voice. “The Emperor’s surprise and annoyance are quite natural. I have been awaiting your reports, Hinckeldeym. Before my wife’s disappearance you seemed to be particularly well-informed – through De Trauttenberg, I suppose – of all her movements and her intentions. Yet since she left you have been content to remain in utter ignorance.”

“Not in entire ignorance, sire. Did I not report to you that she went to Vienna in the man’s company?”

“And where is the man at the present moment?”

“At Camaldoli, a health resort in central Italy. The Ambassador and several of the staff are spending the summer up there.”

“Well, what else do you know?” the King asked, fixing his eyes upon the crafty old scoundrel who was the greatest power in the Kingdom. “Can you tell me where my wife is – that’s the question? I don’t think much of your secret service which costs the country so much, if you cannot tell me that,” he said frankly.

“Yes, your Majesty, I can tell you that, and very much more,” the old fellow answered, quite unperturbed. “The truth is that I have known where she has been for a long time past, and a great deal has been discovered. Yet, for your Majesty’s peace of mind, I have not mentioned so painful a subject. Had I not exerted every effort to follow the Princess I should surely have been wanting in my duties as Minister.”

“Then where is she?” he asked quickly, rising from his chair.

“In England – at a small watering-place on the South Coast, called Worthing.”

“Well – and what else?”

Heinrich Hinckeldeym made no reply for a few moments, as though hesitating to tell his royal master all that he knew. Then at last he said, with that wily insinuation by which he had already ruined the poor Princess’s reputation and good name, —

“The rest will, I think, best be furnished to the counsel who appears on your Majesty’s behalf to apply for a divorce.”

“Ah!” he sighed sadly. “Is it so grave as that? Well, Hinckeldeym, you may tell me everything, only recollect I must have proof – proof. You understand?” he added hoarsely.

“Hitherto I have always endeavoured to give your Majesty proof, and on certain occasions you have complimented me upon my success in discovering the secrets of the pair,” he answered.

“I know I have, but I must have more proof now. There must be no surmises – but hard, solid facts, you understand! In those days I was only Crown Prince. To-day I am King, and my wife is Queen – whatever may be her faults.”

The old Minister was considerably taken aback by this sudden refusal on his royal master’s part to accept every word of his as truth. Yet outwardly he exhibited no sign of annoyance or of disappointment. He was a perfect diplomatist.

“If your Majesty will deign to give them audience, I will, within half an hour, bring here the two secret service agents who have been to England, and they shall tell you with their own lips what they have discovered.”

“Yes, do so,” the King exclaimed anxiously. “Let them tell me the whole truth. They will be discreet, of course, and not divulge to the people that I have given them audience – eh?”

“They are two of the best agents your Majesty possesses. If I may be permitted, I will go at once and send for them.”

And walking backwards, he bowed, and left the room. Three-quarters of an hour later he returned, bringing with him a middle-aged, thin-faced woman, rather tall and thin, dressed plainly in black, and a tall, grey-haired, and rather gentlemanly looking man, whom he introduced to their Sovereign, who was standing with his back to the writing-table.

The woman’s name was Rose Reinherz and the man’s Otto Stieger.

The King surveyed both of them critically. He had never seen any member of his secret service in the flesh before, and was interested in them and in their doings.

“The Minister Hinckeldeym tells me,” he said, addressing Stieger, “that you are both members of our secret service, and that you have returned from England. I wish to hear your report from your own lips. Tell me exactly what you have discovered without any fear of giving me personal offence. I want to hear the whole truth, remember, however disagreeable it may be.”

“Yes,” added the evil-eyed old Minister. “Tell his Majesty all that you have discovered regarding the lady, who for the present purposes may remain nameless.” The spy hesitated for a moment, confused at finding himself called so suddenly into the presence of his Sovereign, and without an opportunity of putting on another suit of clothes. Besides, he was at a loss how to begin.

“Did you go to Vienna?” asked the King.

“I was sent to Vienna the instant it became known that the Crown Princess – I mean the lady – had left the palace. I discovered that she had driven to her father’s palace, but finding him absent had gone to Wartenstein. I followed her there, but she had left again before I arrived, and I entirely lost track of her. Probably she went to Paris, but of that I am not sure. I went to Rome, and for a fortnight kept observation upon the Count, but he wrote no letters to her, which made me suspect that she was hiding somewhere in Rome.”

“You reported that she was actually in Rome. Hinckeldeym told me that.”

The Minister’s grey brows were knit, but only for a second.

“I did not report that she was actually there, sire. I only reported my suspicion.”

“A suspicion which was turned into an actual fact before it reached my ears – eh?” he said in a hard voice. “Go on.”

Hinckeldeym now regretted that he had so readily brought his spies face to face with the King.

“After losing touch with the lady for several weeks, it was discovered that she was staying under an assumed name at the Savoy Hotel, in London. I travelled from Rome to London post-haste, and took a room at the hotel, finding that she had engaged a young Englishwoman named Redmayne as maid, and that she was in the habit of meeting in secret a certain Englishman named Bourne, who seemed to be leading a curiously secluded life. I reported this to the Minister Hinckeldeym, who at once sent me as assistant Rose Reinherz, now before your Majesty. Together we have left no stone unturned to fully investigate the situation, and – well, we have discovered many things.”

“And what are they? Explain.”

“We have ascertained that Count Leitolf still writes to the lady, sending her letters to the same address in Brussels as previously. A copy of one letter, which we intercepted, I placed in the Minister’s hands. It is couched in terms that leave no doubt that this man loves her, and that she reciprocates his affection.”

“You are quite certain that it is not a mere platonic friendship?” asked the King, fixing his eyes upon the spy very earnestly.

“As a man of the world, your Majesty, I do not think there is such a thing as platonic friendship between man and woman.”

“That is left to poets and dreamers,” remarked the wily Hinckeldeym, with a sneer.

“Besides,” the spy continued, “we have carefully watched this man Bourne, and find that when she went to live at Worthing he followed her there. They meet every evening, and go long walks together.”

“I have watched them many times, your Majesty,” declared Rose Reinherz. “I have seen him kiss her hand.”

“Then, to be frank, you insinuate that this man is her latest lover?” remarked the King with a dark look upon his face.

“Unfortunately, that is so,” the woman replied. “He is with her almost always; and furthermore, after much inquiry and difficulty, we have at last succeeded in establishing who he really is.”

“And who is he?”

“A thief in hiding from the police – one of a clever gang who have committed many robberies of jewels in various cities. This is his photograph – one supplied from London to our own Prefecture of Police in Treysa.” And he handed the King an oblong card with two portraits of Guy Bourne, full face and profile, side by side.

His Majesty held it in his hand, and beneath the light gazed upon it for a long time, as though to photograph the features in his memory.

Hinckeldeym watched him covertly, and glanced at the spy approvingly.

“And you say that this man is at Worthing, and in hiding from the police? You allege that he is an intimate friend of my wife’s?”

“Stieger says that he is her latest lover,” remarked Hinckeldeym. “You have written a full and detailed report. Is not that so?” he asked.

The spy nodded in the affirmative, saying, —

“The fellow is in hiding, together with the leader of the association of thieves, a certain Redmayne, known as ‘the Mute,’ who is wanted by the Hamburg police for the theft of the Baroness Ackermann’s jewels. The papers of late have been full of the daring theft.”

“Oh! then the police are searching for both men?” exclaimed the King. “Is there any charge in Germany against this person – Bourne, you called him?”

“One for theft in Cologne, eighteen months ago, and another for jewel robbery at Eugendorf,” was the spy’s reply.

“Then, Hinckeldeym, make immediate application to the British Government for their arrest and extradition. Stieger will return at once to Worthing and point them out to the English police. It will be the quickest way of crushing out the – well, the infatuation, we will call it,” he added grimly.

“And your Majesty will not apply for a divorce?” asked the Minister in that low, insinuating voice.

“I will reflect, Hinckeldeym,” was the King’s reply. “But in the meantime see that both these agents are rewarded for their astuteness and loyalty.”

And, turning, he dismissed the trio impatiently, without further ceremony.

Chapter Twenty Three

Secret Instructions

“You did exceedingly well, Stieger. I am much pleased!” declared his Excellency the Minister, when, outside the palace, he caused them both to enter his carriage and was driving them to his own fine house on the opposite side of the capital. “His Majesty is taking a severe revenge,” he laughed. “This Englishman Bourne will certainly regret having met the Queen. Besides, the fact of her having chosen a low-born criminal lover condemns her a thousandfold in the King’s eyes. I, who know him well, know that nothing could cause him such anger as for her to cast her royalty into the mud, as she has done by her friendship with this gaolbird.”

“I am pleased to have earned your Excellency’s approbation,” replied the man. “And I trust that his Majesty’s pleasure will mean advancement for me – at your Excellency’s discretion, of course.”

“To-morrow I shall sign this decree, raising you to the post of functionary of the first class, with increased emoluments. And to you,” he added, turning to the thin-nosed woman, “I shall grant a gratification of five thousand marks. Over an affair of this kind we cannot afford publicity. Therefore say nothing, either of you. Recollect that in this matter you are not only serving the King, but the whole Ministry and Court. The King must obtain a divorce, and we shall all be grateful to you for the collection of the necessary evidence. The latter, as I told you some time ago, need not be based on too firm a foundation, for even if she defends the action the mere fact of her alliance with this good-looking criminal will be sufficient to condemn her in the eyes of a jury of Treysa. Therefore return to England and collect the evidence carefully – facts that have foundation – you understand?”

The spy nodded. He understood his Excellency’s scandalous suggestion. He was to manufacture evidence to be used against the Queen.

“You must show that she has lightly transferred her love from Leitolf to this rascal Bourne. The report you have already made is good, but it is not quite complete enough. It must contain such direct charges that her counsel will be unable to bring evidence to deny,” declared the fat-faced man – the man who really ruled the Kingdom.

The old monarch had been a hard, level-headed if rather eccentric man, who had never allowed Hinckeldeym to fully reach the height of his ambition; yet now, on the accession of his son, inexperienced in government and of a somewhat weak and vacillating disposition, the crafty President of the Council had quickly risen to be a power as great, if not greater than, the King himself.

He was utterly unscrupulous, as shown by his conversation with Stieger. He was Claire’s bitterest enemy, yet so tactful was he that she had once believed him to be her friend, and had actually consulted him as to her impossible position at Court. Like many other men, he had commenced life as a small advocate in an obscure provincial town, but by dint of ingenious scheming and dishonest double-dealing he had wormed himself into the confidence of the old King, who regarded him as a necessity for the government of the country. His policy was self-advancement at any cost. He betrayed both enemies and friends with equal nonchalance, if they were unfortunate enough to stand in his way. Heinrich Hinckeldeym had never married, as he considered a wife an unnecessary burden, both socially and financially, and as far as was known, he was without a single relative.

At his own splendid mansion, in a severely furnished room, he sat with his two spies, giving them further instructions as to how they were to act in England.

“You will return to-morrow by way of Cologne and Ostend,” he said, “and I will at once have the formal requisition for their arrest and extradition made to the British Foreign Office. If this man Bourne is convicted, the prejudice against the Queen will be greater, and she will lose her partisans among the people, who certainly will not uphold her when this latest development becomes known.” And his Excellency’s fat, evil face relaxed into a grim smile.

Presently he dismissed them, urging them to carry out the mission entrusted to them without scruple, and in the most secret manner possible. Then, when they were gone, he crossed the room to the telephone and asked the Ministers Stuhlmann, Meyer, and Hoepfner – who all lived close by – whether they could come at once, as he desired to consult them. All three responded to the President’s call, and in a quarter of an hour they assembled.

Hinckeldeym, having locked the door and drawn the heavy portière, at once gave his friends a résumé of what had taken place that evening, and of the manner in which he had rearoused the King’s anger and jealousy.

“Excellent!” declared Stuhlmann, who held the portfolio of Foreign Affairs. “Then I shall at once give Crispendorf orders to receive Stieger and to apply to the British Foreign Office for the arrest of the pair. What are their names? I did not quite catch them.”

Hinckeldeym crossed to his writing-table and scribbled a memorandum of the names Bourne and Redmayne, and the offences for which they were wanted.

“They will be tried in Berlin, I suppose?” Stuhlmann remarked.

“My dear friend, it does not matter where they are tried, so long as they are convicted. All we desire to establish is the one fact which will strike the public as outrageous – the Queen has a lover who is a criminal. Having done that, we need no longer fear her return here to Treysa.”

“But is not the Leitolf affair quite sufficient?” asked Meyer, a somewhat younger man than the others, who, by favour of Hinckeldeym, now held the office of Minister of Justice.

“The King suspects it is a mere platonic friendship.”

“And it really may be after all,” remarked Meyer. “In my opinion – expressed privately to you here – the Queen has not acted as a guilty woman would act. If the scandal were true she would have been more impatient. Besides, the English nurse, Allen, came to me before she left Treysa, and vowed to me that the reports were utterly without foundation. They were lovers, as children – that is all.”

Hinckeldeym turned upon him furiously.

“We have nothing to do with your private misgivings. Your duty as Minister is to act with us,” he said in a hard, angry voice. “What does it matter if the English nurse is paid by the Queen to whitewash her mistress? You, my dear Meyer, must be the very last person to express disbelief in facts already known. Think of what would happen if this woman returned to Treysa! You and I – and all of us – would be swept out of office and into obscurity. Can we afford to risk that? If you can, I tell you most plainly that I can’t. I intend that the King shall obtain a divorce, and that the woman shall never be permitted to cross our frontier again. The day she does, recollect, will mark our downfall.”

Meyer, thus reproved by the man to whom he owed his present office, pursed his lips and gave his shoulders a slight shrug. He saw that Hinckeldeym had made up his mind, even though he himself had all along doubted whether the Queen was not an innocent victim of her enemies. Allen had sought audience of him, and had fearlessly denounced, in no measured terms, the foul lies circulated by the Countess de Trauttenberg. The Englishwoman had declared that her mistress was the victim of a plot, and that although she was well aware of her friendliness with Count Leitolf, yet it was nothing more than friendship. She had admitted watching them very closely in order to ascertain whether what was whispered was really true. But it was not. The Queen was an ill-treated and misjudged woman, she declared, concluding with a vow that the just judgment of God would, sooner or later, fall upon her enemies. What the Englishwoman had told him had impressed him. And now Hinckeldeym’s demeanour made it plain that what Allen had said had very good foundation.

He, Ludwig Meyer, was Minister of Justice, yet he was compelled to conspire with the others to do to a woman the worst injustice that man’s ambition could possibly conceive. His companion Hoepfner, Minister of Finance, was also one of Hinckeldeym’s creatures, and dared not dissent from his decision.

“You forget, my dear Meyer,” said the old President, turning back to him. “You forget all that the Countess Hupertz discovered, and all that she told us.”

“I recollect everything most distinctly. But I also recollect that she gave us no proof.”

“Ah! You, too, believe in platonic friendship!” sneered the old man. “Only fools believe in that.”

“No,” interposed Stuhlmann quickly. “Do not let us quarrel over this. Our policy is a straightforward and decisive one. The King is to apply for a divorce, and our friend Meyer will see that it is granted. The thing is quite simple.”