The first American King

“So he has returned?” said Lady Brooke.

“Yes,” replied Lord Ashley, “and is a prisoner. I hold him in my grasp.”

“I don’t like that last,” said Lady Brooke. “It sounds vindictive. By the way, I may say frankly that it’s well he returned just when he did. I was beginning to grow suspicious.”

“Suspicious, Milady? Of what, may I ask?”

“Of you,” retorted Lady Brooke, with unabashed frankness. “I don’t forget that though we work together, yet your interests in this matter are somewhat different from mine. It would doubtless suit you well enough if he were put out of the way for good and all, but that’s no part of my plan. My compact was only for a temporary injury—one that it would be possible to repair readily.”

“It seems to me, Milady, that you always were somewhat given to suspicion,” retorted Lord Ashley, with a slight sneer.

Lady Brooke reddened and an angry light shone in her eyes.

“It may be well,” she said slowly, “for you to remember, Milord, that I expect any compact you may make with me to be kept fully and fairly. Chancellors may be made,” she continued with emphasis, “and they may also be unmade, if history records aright. I have still some influence near the Throne, as those who care to question it may find.”

“Royalty, it is said, is rarely grateful for past favors, but I will admit there are exceptions, Milady,” said Lord Ashley in honeyed accents.

“Would you care to measure how much that influence is a matter of the past?” asked Lady Brooke, with concentrated anger. “Would it astonish you, perhaps, to discover that influence to be greater to-day than ever?”

“Ah, a dual influence!” exclaimed Lord Ashley. “You have in mind, no doubt, your charming protégée, the beautiful Miss Cameron, lately presented by you at Court and incidentally to the attention of His Majesty.”

“Enough!” exclaimed Lady Brooke, her anger flashing suddenly into flame; “since you dare——”

“There, there!” interrupted Lord Ashley soothingly. “Don’t let us quarrel. I have no intention of questioning your power, past or present, Milady, nor do I seek to have that power turned against me. I have enemies enough already. Won’t you now listen to my plan?”

“What is it?” asked Lady Brooke, still angry, but grown suddenly wary.

“This,” said Lord Ashley: “At fifteen and a half o’clock to-day, Captain Haslam, who is the officer of the day, will receive an order bearing the Royal seal, to release Captain Mortimer. This order he will immediately execute and then proceed to destroy the order and forget that he ever received such document. As you know, Captain Haslam is one of my appointees and he can be trusted implicitly to carry out my commands. The same messenger who carries the order of release will leave for Captain Mortimer a letter, requesting him to proceed at once to the little summer-house on Antler Hill, a short distance away in the Park, where he will meet the friend who has procured his release and learn matters of importance to him. Do you follow me thus far, Milady?”

“Yes, yes,” hastily assented Lady Brooke.

“Gratified over this sudden release,” continued Lord Ashley, “and curious to ascertain who this friend may be and what is to be imparted to him, it is only natural to infer that Captain Mortimer will lose no time in making his way to the rendezvous. Needless to say that the friend he will find there will be—you.”

“Yes,” assented Lady Brooke. “Continue.”

“You will inform him,” proceeded Lord Ashley, “that he is the victim of a court intrigue; that the King’s mind is poisoned against him for the time being and that he is in serious danger; that you, knowing this, have secured his release by a forged order; that his only safety lies in temporary flight and concealment and that, if he will follow your instructions, you can surely promise him that within two short months all danger will have disappeared, when he will be restored to royal favor and appointed to the Colonelcy of any one of the crack cavalry regiments he may select—outside of the Guards. By this plan,” continued Lord Ashley, “we both attain our ends—the temporary removal of the gallant Captain from the atmosphere of the Court; and you, in addition, secure control of his person and movements to do with him practically as you will.”

“But suppose he should refuse the bait?” inquired Lady Brooke. “Suppose he elects to stay and face the danger?”

“Ah, that is a matter, Milady, which it seems to me lies with you!” protested Lord Ashley. “I really think you estimate your powers of persuasion and of—of—attraction too lightly.”

“But suppose he should refuse?” persisted Lady Brooke. “What then?”

“Then,” replied Lord Ashley, “I don’t see that we shall be any worse off than before. If he refuse, he will simply return to the military quarters and surrender himself once more. It will be time enough then to put our heads together and see what further we can do, but by trying this present plan it affords us at least a chance of success. Remember that he must have heard something of your influence at Court and you are certainly holding out a very brilliant inducement to him.”

“Well, I am willing to try,” said Lady Brooke, with determination. “We shall see what will come of it.”

“And you will succeed!” declared Lord Ashley, with conviction. “I am positive we shall both succeed!”

Lady Brooke had been gone but a few minutes when Captain Haslam was announced.

“Captain Haslam,” said Lord Ashley, “at fifteen and a half o’clock to-day, or perhaps even a little earlier, an order will be presented to you for the release of Captain Stanley Mortimer, accompanied with a letter for him. You will have that letter delivered to him at once and you will immediately release the prisoner. The instant he leaves the quarters, you will destroy the order and, under any and all circumstances, you will forever forget that such an order has ever reached your hands. Whenever the question comes up as to the disposition of this prisoner, he has escaped. You clearly understand?”

“I clearly understand, Milord,” answered Captain Haslam, as he saluted and retired.

Lord Ashley’s next visitor was Captain Bagley.

“Captain,” said Lord Ashley abruptly, “you are called upon for a certain service of state, such as occasionally arises in the affairs of government. Upon your faithful and discreet performance of that service depends the matter of future favors and promotion.”

Captain Bagley bowed low, maintaining a respectful silence.

“Your orders are these,” continued Lord Ashley: “At fifteen o’clock to-day you will proceed to a point in the park where you can observe the summer-house upon Antler Hill. Conceal yourself from observation among the trees, or bushes. At about fifteen and three-quarters o’clock you will observe an escaped prisoner walking along the Stag Walk toward Antler Hill. That escaped prisoner will be Captain Stanley Mortimer. Permit him to proceed to Antler Hill, where he will be met by a certain personage, whom it is not your concern to recognize. Should he leave Antler Hill in company with that personage, you will permit him to go unhindered on his way. Should he leave alone and seek to return in the direction of the military quarters, or the palace, then your instructions are different. Do you understand thus far?”

“Fully, Milord!” answered Captain Bagley.

“Should he start to return,” continued Lord Ashley, “he cannot possibly do so until sixteen o’clock, or later. The moment sixteen o’clock has sounded and you find him upon the return journey, you will come upon him and shoot him dead. You understand?”

“Fully!” repeated Captain Bagley.

“Your excuse will be that he was an escaping prisoner and that your life was in danger. For the rest, you may look to me to protect you fully in your action.”

Captain Bagley bowed.

“You notice here,” continued Lord Ashley, pointing to an instrument beside the wall, with a large reflector above it, “the sigmagraph. As you know, it is used to signal the guard house to turn out a guard of honor and salute when some visitor of rank is about to leave the Chancellerie. Five flashes of the sigmagraph are the signal for the guard; any smaller number are mere test signals. At sixteen o’clock, precisely to the last stroke, you will turn your eyes to the signal receiver upon the roof of the military quarters. Should no signal come, you will follow out the instructions given. Should you notice three flashes from the sigmagraph, then your orders are cancelled and the escaping prisoner is to be permitted to pass unhindered. Are these instructions clear to you?”

“Entirely, Milord!” answered Captain Bagley.

“And I can count upon your faithful and discreet performance?”

“Absolutely, Milord!”

“It is well, then,” said Lord Ashley. “Remember that neither His Majesty, nor the Chancellerie, is unmindful of service and that due reward attends those who serve His Majesty and His Majesty’s Government faithfully and well. No better service can be done than to exterminate, if needs be, traitors and hatchers of treason. I make myself clear to you in this?”

“Nothing could be clearer, Milord!”

“It would not astonish me, Captain, to see you one day at the head of a Division.”

“I shall ever strive to earn your approval, Milord Chancellor!” replied Captain Bagley, as he saluted and retired.

While Lord Ashley was thus occupied in issuing instructions Mr. Kearns was busily engaged in endeavoring to get in touch with the King. After diligent inquiry, he ascertained that His Majesty had left the City Palace and was then upon the return journey. It was, however, not His Majesty’s intention to return direct, but to stop en route at Fairoaks, the country estate of Sir Foxhall Sharpe, some thirty miles from the Summer Palace, where a garden-party to be attended by the King, the Queen and the Court was to be held that afternoon. It was rumored in Court circles that the real attraction of the garden-party was a certain Miss Cameron, to whom recently had been drawn the attention of the King. The Queen, it was said, had in consequence of the presence of this Miss Cameron among the guests been with difficulty induced to lend her presence, only consenting finally in order to prevent the appearance of a public scandal.

Kearns secured a phaeromobile from the royal garage and hurried off to Fairoaks, passing as he went a number of court mobiles on the way to the garden-party. Reaching Fairoaks, he found that the King had arrived, but had retired to rest after his journey. His Majesty had given orders that he was not to be disturbed.

It was only after a long and weary wait of more than two hours that Kearns succeeded in getting his urgent message to the King. His Majesty sent for him at once, but received him with some show of impatience.

“Well,” said the King, “we assume that your case is completed at last and that it must be both interesting and important to be forced upon our attention at the present time!”

“The case is fully completed, Sire,” answered Kearns, “and in importance will not, I think, disappoint your expectations. I am prepared to report now.”

“Not now,” interrupted the King. “We would prefer to learn the details at the palace—upon our return.”

“But the matters I have to impart, Sire, are most pressing—most urgent!”

“So are matters here,” exclaimed the King, with a peculiar smile. “Certain rumors—as wicked as they are unfounded—have, it has reached our ears, been set afloat and have deeply shocked us. It has become necessary by our presence here, and that of Her Majesty, to discountenance these scandalous gossipings.”

Mr. Kearns could accommodate his intelligence to that which was required of him as well as the next man. He accordingly contrived to inject into his countenance the necessary quantum of astonishment and indignation and having done this, he promptly returned to the charge.

“It becomes my duty to report to you, Sire,” he said, “that danger threatens and that an armed attack is projected.”

It was the King’s turn to look startled and astonished.

“When?” he asked.

“Possibly within three days.”

“Are you sure of this?”

“Positive!”

“And can you confirm your facts?”

“Absolutely.”

“How?”

“Through Captain Stanley Mortimer and another.”

“You are sure of this?”

“Entirely so.”

“Ah!”

The King remained for a moment in deep thought.

“Three days,” he murmured. “That will give all the time required for any concentration of our forces which may be necessary. Two hours cannot make much difference in these preparations. We will remain here for that time and then return to the palace.”

“In view of the character of my information,” persisted Kearns, “I urge you, Sire, to the utmost expedition. I beg you to release Captain Mortimer at once and to send for him and hear his story.”

“No,” answered the King, “to leave here thus suddenly would create much undesirable speculation and gossip. This you shall do. We will sign the order for Captain Mortimer’s release, which you shall bear to him at once. Direct him to repair to the palace and hold himself in readiness for an immediate audience. When you have done this, you will hasten back here and report. By that time we shall be prepared to return to our palace and listen to the full details of this news. You may now go and carry out these instructions.”

“You have not yet given me, Sire, the order for Captain Mortimer’s release.”

The King crossed to a writing-table, hastily wrote the requisite order and handed it to Kearns.

“We would not lightly affront our Chancellor,” he said. “You will, therefore, keep Captain Mortimer discreetly out of sight until our return and until we have gathered from his story whether this release is fully warranted by the facts. Should you chance to meet our Chancellor, tell him nothing of this release, but bid him summon General Pierson, in command of the First Army Corps, to the palace. Go now, and upon your return here you will find us fully ready to proceed.”

Kearns bowed and retired. He made his way through the gardens, and, stepping into his phaeromobile, started on the return journey to the palace.

As Mr. Kearns passed through the gardens of Fairoaks, he had noticed among the guests Miss Dorothy Brandon and Miss Beatrice Cuming. They also had seen him and had bowed. Just as Kearns passed out of the grounds, Lady Hill, one of Her Majesty’s ladies-in-waiting, came hurrying forward and greeted Dorothy.

“I have been looking all over for you,” said Lady Hill. “I bring you an order from the Queen.”

“Yes?” answered Dorothy. “What is it?”

“You are to return at once to the palace,” said Lady Hill, “and present yourself at the Chancellerie. The Chancellor desires to see you upon urgent matters.”

Dorothy seemed both startled and astonished.

“The Chancellor desires to see me!” she exclaimed. “What can it be about? I would prefer not to go.”

“Not go!” answered Lady Hill, who was a great stickler for etiquette, evidently quite shocked. “Why, my dear, this is a royal command I bring you.”

“But what can the Chancellor want to see me about?” persisted Dorothy.

“I don’t know,” replied Lady Hill, “except that it is a matter of state. The Chancellor’s request was addressed to the Queen, in the usual form—you being attached to Her Majesty’s suite—and the Chancellor urgently asks your attendance at once. The Queen, of course, immediately gave this order which I bring you.”

“I would much prefer not to go,” said Dorothy.

“But for what reason?” demanded Lady Hill.

“Oh, it would be much nicer to remain here,” answered Dorothy vaguely. “Don’t you think I might seek audience with the Queen and ask her to withdraw the order?”

“Certainly not!” said Lady Hill severely. “Such a proceeding would be entirely improper and contrary to Court etiquette.”

“Well, but could I not,” persisted Dorothy, “endeavor to arrange this matter, whatever it is, with the Chancellor over the audiphone?”

“I am not familiar with the etiquette of the Chancellor,” said Lady Hill frostily; “but I fancy that the Chancellor does not usually discuss matters of state over the audiphone. As a maid of honor attached to Her Majesty’s suite, it is your duty not to quibble over the orders of the Sovereign, but to obey.”

“Very well,” answered Dorothy resignedly. “I shall go at once. Will you come with me, Trixy?”

“Certainly, my dear,” replied Beatrice.

“It’s too bad we have to go,” remarked Dorothy as they made their way through the grounds. “I understand there is going to be a splendid entertainment given later in the afternoon under the supervision of Sir Richard Hollowboy, the famous Director of Plastics.”

“Yes, it is indeed too bad!” assented Beatrice.

“Well,” continued Dorothy, “I did my best to get out of it.”

“You certainly did,” acquiesced Beatrice, “but there’s no escape. Well, don’t let’s mind! What can’t be cured must be endured, I suppose!”

They reached the highway, stepped into their victoriamobile and were off. And thus it happened that the two ladies were following Mr. Kearns on the highway leading back to the palace.

As for Mr. Kearns he traveled back at a rate of speed which, unused as he was to such celerity in an open vehicle of this description, suggested to him ideas that should any sudden breakdown, or other mishap occur there would be little left of him or the vehicle from which to pick out the tale. He experienced, however, a sense of buoyancy and exhilaration from this rapid flashing through the air. He was glad, though, of the wise provision which divided the Northbound and Southbound roads, thus obviating at least any possibility of collision.

Without accident or further adventure he reached the Palace Park and springing out of the phaeromobile, he ordered the man in charge to hold himself in readiness for the return journey to Fairoaks. Striding rapidly toward the military quarters, he was within a few steps of the main entrance when, to his unbounded astonishment, he saw advancing toward him Captain Stanley Mortimer.

“How is it you are here?” exclaimed Mr. Kearns in amazement.

“I’ve just been favored with an order of release,” said Mortimer, smiling.

“How did you manage it?” asked Kearns.

“I don’t quite know, except that the order was from the King,” answered Mortimer. “But come this way; I’ve something to show you.”

He passed his arm through that of Kearns and led him a short distance away from the military quarters and out into the park.

“This whole affair has happened in a most curious way,” he said. “A few minutes ago I was notified of the arrival of the order of release and at the same time this note was given me. It’s really quite curious! Read for yourself!”

Kearns took the paper handed to him and read:

“When these lines reach you, they will be accompanied by an order for your release. This order has been secured by a true and devoted friend, who desires to see you at once for the purpose of conveying to you information which it is of the highest importance you should learn at once. The moment you are released proceed to the summer-house on Antler Hill, where you will find this friend anxiously awaiting you. You ought to reach there by sixteen o’clock or a little earlier.”

Twice Mr. Kearns read the note over carefully and then paused thoughtfully for some moments.

“Well!” he said at last.

“Well—what?” exclaimed Captain Mortimer questioningly.

“What are you going to do?” asked Kearns.

“Why,” exclaimed Mortimer in some astonishment, “I’m going to Antler Hill, I suppose. Why should I not go?”

“Because I scent a trap of some kind!” replied Kearns with conviction.

“A trap!” exclaimed Mortimer. “You do, eh?”

“Yes!”

“Well, I’m astonished,” exclaimed Mortimer, “but I do not know that I should hold back. If a friend awaits me there, I wouldn’t like to appear ungrateful, and if it is, as you suspect, an enemy, I’ve never yet hesitated to meet my enemies. What makes you think it is a trap?”

“Why so much mystery about this missive? Why is it unsigned? Why should this friend conceal his name from you?” asked Kearns vehemently.

“Well,” answered Mortimer musingly, “there is some force in what you say, and yet one can imagine reasons why a friend might not sign such a communication, especially when his identity is about to be revealed in the course of an hour.”

“You say the order of release was from the King?”

“Yes.”

“Then I can assure you,” continued Kearns earnestly, “there is something wrong about this whole transaction. I have here, as you see, an order for your release given direct into my hands by the King. I came here in all haste the moment after receiving it. I am convinced that the King has issued no other order of the same kind and that there is something wrong in connection with that other order which released you.”

“This looks indeed strange!” admitted Mortimer, with a serious air.

“Furthermore,” resumed Kearns, “when the King gave me that order, it was entrusted to me with the condition that I keep you quietly in the background until the King received you in audience and judged matters for himself. I accepted the order under this condition and I feel bound by it.”

“That entirely alters the complexion of matters,” declared Mortimer. “I would not willingly by any act of mine place you in a false position. But won’t you go to Antler Hill and explain to the person who may be waiting there why it is I am unable to appear in person? Any danger which may await me would surely not extend to you.”

“I would only too gladly go,” replied Kearns, “but I’m ordered to return to the King as soon as I have you in readiness for the coming audience. I don’t care to send another to the summer-house, though I am most curious to learn who may be the person awaiting you there.”

“And so am I!”

“Well, don’t worry,” retorted Kearns. “Friend or foe, you may depend upon it we shall discover who that person is before long. As you know, I have had some experience in matters of this kind.”

“What is it, then, you wish me to do now?” asked Mortimer.

“Accompany me to the palace,” replied Kearns. “I shall leave you in my private bureau in the Chancellerie until the time comes for your audience with the King.”

“I am at your disposition,” answered Mortimer simply.

“One question I want to ask you,” said Kearns. “Have you communicated with anybody since your return?”

“With no one,” replied Mortimer. “I was naturally not anxious to advertise the fact of my being under arrest.”

“That was very wise,” remarked Kearns. “Now let us go.”

They accordingly made their way direct to the palace and entered Kearns’s bureau off the main room of the Chancellerie.

“Now,” exclaimed Kearns, “I invite you to make yourself as comfortable as possible here until audience time comes. It will be only a couple of hours or so.”

“Very well,” assented Mortimer cheerfully.

“More than this,” continued Kearns, “knowing your propensity for running into adventures of various kinds and in view of my promise to the King, I am going to ask you to pledge me your word of honor that you won’t leave this room during the next two hours.”

“Ah,” demurred Mortimer, smiling; “that’s a hard promise to exact. Who can tell what may turn up within two hours?”

“Well,” assented Kearns, “I will allow you to make your promise with the qualification: Except in case of possible life or death. I have, then, your word?”

“Have it your own way, since you insist,” exclaimed Mortimer. “Yes; you have my word that I will not cross the threshold of this room within the next two hours, unless it is a question of possible life or death.”

“Now I can proceed upon my errand with a mind at ease,” said Kearns, with a satisfied air. “Oh, by the way, I had almost forgotten! I have a message from the King for Lord Ashley.”

As he spoke, he walked to the door of communication, pushed aside the heavy portiere, opened the door, threw aside the corresponding portiere on the other side and passed into the main room of the Chancellerie.

A moment later he returned, with preoccupied air.

“Nobody there!” he exclaimed. “It’s a holiday and everybody has taken advantage of it. Well, I’m off to Fairoaks now. Within two hours I expect I shall be back and—so will the King!” With these words he hurried from the room and away.

After Kearns’s departure, Mortimer strolled to the window and looked over the park. Then he stretched himself out comfortably with a book and read. He had been reading but a very short time, when voices came to him from the adjoining main room of the Chancellerie. An instant later he sprang to his feet, a flood of color flushing his face. In returning from the Chancellerie to his bureau, Mr. Kearns had failed fully to close the door of communication and now only the two portieres intervened between the rooms. Do what he would, Mortimer could not but hear.

More distinctly came the voices to him, as the minutes passed. He stood with strained features and eyes ablaze. Then his hand flew to his sword-hilt and he strode forward. Two steps he took and abruptly halted.

Merciful God! Why was he thus chained here? Why had he pledged his word, except under stress of possible life or death, not to cross the threshold of this room?