CHAPTER XIII
HOW CAME THIS TO PASS
Out of the ball-room the messenger rapidly led the way. They were whisked up on an electric elevator; and along a passage, lined with sentinels, they hurried until they reached the private apartments of the King.
In the first, or outer, chamber were gathered several officers, talking together eagerly. They passed through the chamber to a door at the further end, where they were stopped by a Captain of the Guards, who was evidently the officer on duty. At a whispered word from the messenger, the officer moved aside. The messenger opened the door and, stepping back, motioned Kearns to pass in alone to the sleeping apartment of the King.
Kearns instantly took in the details of the scene which presented itself as the door closed behind him—a spacious and brilliantly lighted apartment, with a rather small alcove in which was set the royal couch. Two persons were in the apartment—the King, seated on the side of the couch, his face pale and troubled, holding a paper in his hand; and, standing beside him, Lord Ashley, looking very grave.
Lying in disorder at the King’s feet was a large coverlid of gayly colored silk, which appeared to have been thrown or dropped on the floor in the confusion.
The King motioned to Kearns to approach. Kearns advanced and bowed.
“See!” said the King.
He motioned to Lord Ashley, who raised the silken coverlid. Kearns bent eagerly forward and, despite the royal presence, a sharp, low whistle of astonishment escaped him.
Stretched at full length upon the floor, his limbs rigid in death, the thick blood oozing from nostrils and mouth, lay the King’s great mastiff, with a bullet through his heart.
Kearns stood gazing intently at the corpse; then raised his eyes to glance about him for possible clews as to the quarter whence death had been dealt. But the King again drew his attention.
“Read!” he said, extending to Kearns the scroll he held in his hand.
Kearns took the paper, which was thick and heavy and was rolled in the form of a cylinder. Unfolding it he read:
The bullet which pierces your dog’s heart might as readily have reached yours. Heed the warnings given while it is yet time. The hour fast approaches.
Kearns slowly read the document, refolded it carefully and, still holding it in his hand, addressed the King.
“I’d like to keep this,” he said, “for further examination. I can’t tell but it may contain a clew.”
“As you will,” answered the King abstractedly. “You note what is said: As the bullet pierced the dog’s heart, so might it have pierced ours. And it’s true,” he added with a shudder, “horribly true! As the late Czar of Russia, Zoldau the First, foully perished, so——”
Lord Ashley hastily interrupted.
“You forget, Sire,” he exclaimed, “that while it’s true His Majesty, the late Czar, Zoldau the First, died suddenly while asleep, yet it was officially certified to by the Court physicians that he died of acute indigestion superinduced by——”
“A dagger, driven through his heart while he slept,” interposed the King. “Yes,” he added with ghastly irony, “such things usually are acutely indigestible.”
“Sire,” said Lord Ashley, “there are certain State secrets which His Grace, the Lord Chancellor, would, I know, highly disapprove being disclosed. It is not well that such rumors——”
“Rumors!” exclaimed the King with violence, “think you, Milord, that these things are safely locked within the walls of the Chancellery! Think you that such secrets are securely hidden? that they are not whispered about among the people? Ah, don’t deceive yourself. But what care we as to this! All the efforts of our officers, our soldiers, our Secret Service have failed to protect us from these visitations. We would that he,” and he turned to Kearns, “should know all that he may fully grasp the necessities of the situation and measure the danger.”
Lord Ashley bowed a respectful acquiescence.
“It’s horrible—horrible!” continued the King with nervous energy. “It’s easy enough to face death in a charge against the enemy as you soldiers face it, but to wait and watch day after day, day after day, never knowing from what quarter death may be creeping upon you from some lurking assassin—ah, that’s different. It’s horrible—horrible!”
Kearns looked upon the King and a feeling akin to pity came into his heart. In the course of his varied career, he had seen men in a similar predicament and he well knew that this constant fear of attack from some mysterious and unknown quarter was a situation such as to wring the stoutest heart.
The King drew himself together with a strong effort.
“Whence came this shot?” he asked again turning to Kearns.
Kearns glanced about him. There were four windows to the apartment; two of these were closed; the others were open. All four windows were securely shaded with heavy blinds. Kearns crossed over and carefully examined each window-casing and shade.
“Was it through a window?” continued the King.
“Possibly, Sire,” answered Kearns.
“You say possibly,” exclaimed the King, somewhat petulantly, “yet how is it possible? On the ground directly beneath those windows are two sentinels; on the roof directly above are two other sentinels. The trees of the park are many feet away and from them no shot could be fired which could possibly strike at the angle this shot struck. Besides, you see the shades are undisturbed; no bullet has passed through them. How do you account for all this?”
“I’ll know far more by this time to-morrow, Sire,” answered Kearns calmly, “after I’ve concluded my investigations. In the meantime, I ask that nothing here be disturbed.”
“And you will speak then to-morrow?” exclaimed the King eagerly.
“It was agreed, Sire,” said Kearns, with dignity, “in order to ensure my usual success, that I should be permitted to pursue my usual methods. I’ll speak, Sire, at my usual time.”
“Speak at your usual time!” repeated the King, apparently somewhat bewildered. “And when is that?”
Kearns touched the foot of the prostrate dog lightly with his own.
“When,” he answered with cold determination, “when I hold the assassins within my net—securely within my grasp!”