CHAPTER VII.

TWO KINGS OF BRENTFORD.

The message which Philippa brought from Cyril served in some degree to allay her mother’s anxiety, and the continued absence of the O’Malachy tended to the same result. He had said that he was going to lunch with a friend or two at the Kursaal, and that he would return afterwards and take Nadia and the children to meet Caerleon at the station; but, innocent as this programme sounded, his daughter derived no comfort from it. She felt that she had blundered into the midst of a web of conspiracy, of whose extent and object alike she was ignorant, and she was equally afraid of remaining inactive, and of taking any step that might increase the difficulties which surrounded her. What her father’s plans might be she could not divine; but that they were of a perilous nature, and boded evil to Caerleon and the children, she was convinced, while the keenest sting of her position lay in the fact that she was helpless to find a way out of the trap into which her own credulity had led her, and was now leading her husband. Therefore she was devoutly thankful when there was no sign of the O’Malachy’s return, even though she attributed his delay, quite unjustly on this occasion, to his having imbibed at lunch, somewhat freely, liquors more potent than the Tatarjé waters.

It was past three o’clock, and Usk and Philippa, after a little lively squabbling, had settled themselves in the two front windows of the hotel sitting-room “to watch for father,” while their mother flitted about uneasily, now glancing out of one window or the other, and then trying to occupy herself with a book. The children were just engaged in an argument dealing with the respective probabilities of the clock’s being fast and the train’s being late, when their attention was suddenly distracted by the sounds of an altercation on the landing outside the room.

“You ’old your jaw,” they heard Wright’s voice say, as the door was violently opened and then unceremoniously shut, “and don’t come ’ere frightenin’ ’er ladyship with your tales.”

“I must tell ’er ladyship,” was the reply, in a choked voice, which suggested that Wright had the speaker by the collar, and the door opened again, this time admitting Wright and Robert, the young Llandiarmid footman, both in a somewhat ruffled condition.

“What is the meaning of this?” inquired Lady Caerleon in astonishment. “Robert! how did you come here?”

“Please, my lady, ’is lordship brought me with ’im from ’ome, because Mr Franks were ill and not allowed to travel.”

“What! is the Marquis here? What do you mean by forcing your way into the room before your master, Robert?”

“Please, my lady, ’is lordship ain’t ’ere. ’E’ve been arrested.”

“Arrested!” Nadia dropped into a chair, and pressed her hand to her side. “What do you mean? Tell me.”

“We got along all right, my lady, me and ’is lordship, until something over ’arf a hour ago, when we come to Velisi, which is the station next before this one, as your ladyship knows. Then ’is lordship got out to look what they ’ad on the bookstall, seein’ as the two last ’adn’t no English books at all, and ’e didn’t come back. I was keepin’ ’is place for ’im, and the train was just movin’ on, when I see ’is lordship bein’ took away by four of them pleece they ’as ’ere, with their big ’ats and their queer swords. I tried to jump out after ’im, but the people in the carriage ’eld me back; and I made up my mind to come on ’ere and tell your ladyship.”

“You were quite right,” said Nadia mechanically; but Philippa broke in--

“But, Robert, you saw the policemen take father prisoner? Really policemen? You’re sure it was father?”

“Certain sure, my lady. I’d give all I ’ave so I could say different, but I can’t,” and Robert gulped down a sob.

Philippa’s valiant heart failed her. She had all a well-brought up British child’s veneration for the law, which she looked upon as a species of ogre, given to pouncing, by means of its instruments the police, upon unfortunate individuals who had in some way become obnoxious to it, quite irrespective of their guilt or innocence, and locking them up. It never occurred to her to object that her father had committed no crime, but she brought forward the only consolation she could suggest.

“Don’t look like that, mother,” she urged, with broken voice. “It must be a mistake. They couldn’t take father prisoner if they knew who he was. They wouldn’t dare to do it. They must have thought it was some one else. Oh, mother, they can’t put _father_ in prison?” she ended, sobbing wildly as she caught her mother’s hand.

“Hush, Phil, my poor Phil,” said Nadia quietly, soothing the excited child, and holding out a hand to Usk, down whose face the tears were rolling slowly. “I want you both to be very quiet and good, while I think what we can do for poor father. Of course it is a mistake; but we must be very careful not to make it worse by anything we do or say. Wright, please order a carriage at once, and tell nurse I want to speak to her as you pass.”

Wright returned from his errand almost as soon as nurse entered the room, and Nadia signed to him to shut the door. Philippa, exhausted by the violence of her grief, was crying quietly in her mother’s arms, and Usk was sobbing on the floor beside her, with his face buried in her dress; but her own eyes were tearless, and her voice quite calm.

“I want to speak to you all before the carriage comes, so that you may know what to do. I am afraid that the Government here, finding that Lord Caerleon was coming to Thracia, must have jumped to the conclusion that he was plotting to place himself on the throne again, and thought they would make things safe by arresting him.”

“I’m afraid that’s about it, your ladyship,” said Wright hoarsely, when she paused and looked at him. “Of course there’s Lord Cyril----”

“I fear that Lord Cyril must have been arrested as well, for he has not come here as he said he would. Well, there is no need to be frightened. They can’t possibly do the Marquis any harm. I am going now to the Queen-Regent. If any one can help us she can; and I hope that when I have explained the circumstances she will give me an order for Lord Caerleon’s release, and let us leave for England at once. But, of course, it is possible that she has no power without consulting M. Drakovics, and it may even be necessary to apply to the British Minister to bring pressure to bear, which might mean some delay. Nurse, I want you to begin to pack everything at once. If Lord Caerleon is sent to prison, of course I shall go with him----”

“Oh, my lady! to prison!” cried nurse tearfully.

“And then you and Robert must take the children back to England, starting to-night. They must be kept out of danger. Wright, I must have you here, for you know the country----”

“My lady, I wouldn’t go back now, not if you was to send me!” said Wright, with ferocious resolution. Nadia inclined her head.

“I knew you would feel that, Wright. Now, nurse, please dress the children to come to the Palace with me. Phil, be brave; we are going to see what we can do to help father. Let nurse wash your face and put on your best hat.”

With a last choking sob Philippa obeyed, calling up memories of Lady Nithsdale, Jeanie Deans, and other heroines who had pleaded for the lives of imprisoned relatives. Their examples so fortified her that she was even able to rebuke Usk for asking in a doleful whisper whether they cut people’s heads off the very moment they were taken prisoner, and to inform him that if he frightened mother and made her cry, it would be his fault if--if anything dreadful happened; but here the reprover belied her own admonitions by winking away a few tears very hastily.

A few minutes later M. Stefanovics, who was waiting in the hall of the Villa to receive a visitor whom the Queen was expecting, hurried to the door on hearing a carriage drive up, only to find that the lady who mounted the steps with her children was quite a stranger to him. One of the footmen stopped her before she reached the threshold, saying that visitors were not at present admitted to view the Villa, as the Queen was residing there; but she astonished him by saying that her business was with the Queen, and passed on. The rest of the servants were too much impressed by her manner to bar her way; but at the door she was met by M. Stefanovics himself.

“I wish to see the Queen,” she said, barely noticing him.

“Pardon me; but has madame received her Majesty’s commands to present herself at this hour? No?” as she shook her head; “then perhaps she is an early friend of the Queen? In that case----”

“No; her Majesty would not know me, but I am sure she will see me if you tell her my reason for coming. My name is----”

“Pardon me,” said M. Stefanovics again, waving away politely the card which Nadia held out to him; “but I should be deceiving madame with false hopes if I encouraged her to remain. Her Majesty does not receive this afternoon.”

“Still I must ask you to be so kind as to entreat her to grant me a short interview. My husband has been arrested under a misapprehension, and I am relying upon the Queen for his release.”

“But it is impossible, madame! Such matters are the concern of the Minister of the Interior or of the Premier, not of her Majesty. Let me entreat madame to retire, and forward her request to the proper quarter, or at least to turn into my office here, and draw up her petition in writing for presentation to the Queen. Her Majesty is at this moment expecting the arrival of her cousin, the Princess of---- But here is the Princess arriving!”

And the harassed chamberlain hurried out on the steps once more, wondering what he was to do with this sad-eyed woman who could not be brought to take No for an answer. Only an hour ago Cyril had given him strict injunctions not to admit any strangers to the Villa that afternoon upon any pretext, and he was torn between natural kindness of heart and a determination to obey his orders. The children watched him with wide-eyed awe as he escorted into the hall a dark-haired lady magnificently dressed, leading a little girl of two or three years old by the hand; but Nadia uttered a despairing moan as she stood aside among the pillars of the vestibule. The sound roused Philippa to instant action.

“Mother, _don’t_!” she cried, and running out into the hall faced the strange lady boldly. “Oh, please, are you in a dreadful hurry to see the Queen?” she asked. “Because, if not, would you mind letting mother see her first, just for a minute? It is so fearfully important.”

“Who are you, little one?” asked the Princess kindly. “I have seen you before, have I not?”

“I don’t think so,” faltered Philippa, overwhelmed with sudden shyness, but M. Stefanovics interrupted her. “It is a lady who says that her husband has been arrested by mistake, madame, and she is anxious to entreat her Majesty to obtain his release. I have assured her that it is the business of the Minister of the Interior, but I cannot induce her to go away. I think she must be English.”

“English!” cried the Princess, as though a light had flashed upon her. “Now I know you, my child. You are Carlino’s little daughter.”

“Carlino is what mother calls father,” said Philippa timidly, but the Princess was already crossing the hall to her mother.

“And you are Nadia!” she said, taking her hand in both hers. “Pardon me, dear madame, but I knew your husband long ago, and I have heard him speak of you. The tone of his voice as he mentioned your name so impressed itself upon my mind that I have thought of you as Nadia ever since.”

“And you are the Princess Ottilie,” said Nadia slowly, looking into the dark eyes which met hers with a friendly light in them. “Forgive me, I should say the Princess of Dardania.”

“Thanks to Lord Caerleon,” was the instant answer. “Ah, madame, you know the story--how your husband sacrificed his own feelings that he might assist a helpless girl, driven almost desperate by the cruelty of her circumstances. That girl stands before you now. Will you not allow one who owes her happy married life to the magnanimity of Lord Caerleon to help you in your trouble? Even the mouse helped the lion, you know.”

“Madame, you are too good,” stammered Nadia.

“Good? No, I am not that, madame, but I hope I am not ungrateful. ‘Our Princess never forgets a friend, or forgives a foe’--that is what they say of me in Dardania, and they say it also in certain of the chancelleries of Europe,” she laughed maliciously. “Tell me now what it is that is troubling you? Your husband has been arrested through some stupid mistake of the police?”

“I do not know, madame. He was to join me this afternoon; but his servant arrived without him, bringing word that his master had been arrested suddenly at Velisi. There was no dispute with the police, so far as I know.”

“At Velisi?” The Princess looked thoughtful. “Lord Caerleon had not been warned not to enter the country, or in any other way made himself obnoxious to the Government, had he?”

“Oh no. He could not have crossed the frontier more than an hour.”

“And that would barely have allowed time for a message to be sent to Bellaviste and answered. No; the order for the arrest must have come from here. And the only person with authority sufficient to venture on such a step is your husband’s brother, Count Mortimer.”

“Impossible, madame! My husband and his brother are on the best of terms.”

“Unfortunately, madame, you must know, as I do, that no considerations of friendship or affection would be allowed to stand in the way of Count Mortimer’s plans. It is possible that he fears your husband’s return to Thracia may undermine his own influence here, and that would be quite sufficient to cause him to arrest him.”

“I can’t believe it,” Nadia repeated helplessly; but unfortunately her memory tallied only too well with that of the Princess. If Cyril had any scheme in view, it was not likely that he would allow Caerleon to interfere with its success.

“In any case,” went on the Princess, “you were taking the right course when you came to the Queen. She is the only person who would have both the authority and the courage to demand an explanation from Count Mortimer--with the exception of Drakovics, of course. We will go up-stairs and see her now. Come, my Lida,” and she held out her hand to her little girl, who had been clinging to her dress.

“Oh, mayn’t I take her?” entreated Philippa. “Usk and I will hold her hands all the way up-stairs, and we will be so careful. She shan’t fall, really and truly. Come, baby darling.”

“Her name is Ludmilla,” said the Princess, laughing; “Lida is her pet name.”

“I know; just as I’m called Phil,” assented Philippa, with a beaming smile, as she and Usk, with little Princess Ludmilla between them, began to mount the stairs after their mother and the Princess. Just as they reached the top, Nadia paused suddenly.

“Madame,” she said, “I cannot believe that Count Mortimer is responsible for his brother’s arrest. I entreat your Royal Highness not to prejudice his position with her Majesty by suggesting it.”

“If the Queen did not order the arrest, Count Mortimer must have done so,” returned the Princess inexorably. “We shall see.”

Absurd though the idea appeared to Nadia, it was nevertheless the case that the Princess was much nearer the truth in accusing Cyril than his sister-in-law in defending him, and no one would have acknowledged the acuteness of his fair opponent more readily than Cyril himself. At the moment that the conversation was taking place in the hall of the Villa, he was crossing the railway platform at Velisi, on his way to the police-station, to which Caerleon had been hurried. He found the occupants a good deal disturbed in their minds, and it needed all his commendations for their prompt obedience to his orders to reassure them. Oh yes, the English traveller had been arrested, and was now detained in the parlour of the superintendent’s house, which they had thought it advisable to place at his disposal, since it was evident he must be a great man in his own country. He had been angry, very angry, at his arrest, and had threatened his assailants with unheard-of penalties--the nature of which they understood only very imperfectly, however, since Caerleon had almost lost the small knowledge of Thracian of which he had once been possessed. Did his Excellency really intend to grant this very violent person an interview? Surely he would at least allow two of the police to be present, with drawn swords, so as to be able to repel any attempt at attack? But Cyril refused the offered protection, and entered the parlour boldly. He found Caerleon pacing up and down, still in his travelling ulster, and looking absurdly large and substantial for the little room. He turned when Cyril entered, and faced him in blank astonishment, which changed quickly to anger as the memory of his wrongs returned upon him.

“Well, Cyril, this is a pretty state of things!” he cried. “May I ask what it means? I am taken into custody in a public place, and when I ask why, they tell me it is by your order.”

“I never told them to tell you so, at any rate,” said Cyril. “Now be reasonable, Caerleon, and don’t shout the house down. I would have given you a week’s notice if I could; but since I only had ninety minutes myself in which to save the kingdom, I couldn’t afford to lose time.”

“If you could make time just now to explain what you mean, you would place me under a deep obligation to you,” said Caerleon, with bitter irony.

“That sounds more like business. I am always delighted to explain things away afterwards, provided I have a free hand at the critical moment. The fact is, I didn’t want you at Tatarjé, and I don’t now.”

“Don’t you think you are really too flattering?”

“It must sound so, I suppose; and yet it is the sober truth. If this interrupted journey of yours had turned out as it was intended to do, my occupation would have been gone, for the simple reason that the throne of baby Michael would have been gone too.”

“You don’t accuse me of carrying dynamite about with me, I hope?”

“Not at all. You are the dynamite yourself.”

“If these are your explanations, Cyril,” said Caerleon shortly, “all I can say is that they are a good deal darker than your proceedings, and they are dark enough, in all conscience.”

“Now don’t get waxy, old man. I’m afraid the lapse of years has disturbed your faith in me a little, hasn’t it? I assure you honestly I mean what I say. You have come to the very worst place in Thracia, at the very worst time, and in the very worst way. Come, you can’t say that that’s not plain speaking, can you?”

“I can’t see that it throws much light on the subject.”

“Then I must enlighten you. Neither you nor Nadia seems to have realised that there are still a good many people in Thracia who regard you as having a considerable right--or even the paramount right--to the throne; and yet I told you plainly when I was with you that I hoped you would keep away from this part of the world.”

“But I renounced all my rights of my own free will.”

“Who is to know that it was of your own free will? It might have been done perforce, or under a misapprehension, or anything. And, in any case, the renunciation does not ensure your never wishing--or merely being willing if requested--to resume your rights.”

“Stuff, Cyril! Why should I wish to resume them?”

“Why should any one wish to be a king? I know, of course, that you had quite enough of it when you were here; but then I was not afraid of you, but of others who might make a catspaw of you.”

“Many thanks.”

“There you are again! You really should not be so touchy. Can’t you see that although the people who have a theoretical belief in your claims might be content to let you go with a few sighs and vain regrets, there are others who might be glad to exploit their views and feelings for their own purposes?”

“I don’t see what harm they could do if they were.”

“I do, unfortunately. The head and front of this offending is your respected father-in-law, our old friend O’Malachy. He knows that you are not likely to revisit Thracia by your own wish, and therefore he works upon you through your wife. Guessing that you won’t let her come alone, he brings her here by a telegram to say that he is dying, and longs to see her. He gets her and the children into his hands, to use either as hostages or as puppets, you see, and he is prepared to proclaim you King as soon as you arrive. The town is notoriously disloyal, the garrison honeycombed with disaffection, the Bishop, who is the biggest man in these parts, hates the Queen, and the little King is in their power. What better starting-place could you desire for another revolution? Even if you kicked successfully, there is Usk, whom the Bishop would prefer to you, because he could begin by converting him to the Orthodox faith.”

“But why in the world should the O’Malachy want to make either poor little Usk or myself King?”

“He doesn’t; that is merely a means to an end. But he does very much want to give Scythia a pretext for interfering in our affairs. With two Kings, and a civil war in active progress, she would be able to send troops to enforce order, and those troops would leave the country at the Greek Kalends. Little Michael’s conversion would be insisted upon as the price of support. Drakovics would go under and so should I, and the Queen would either be assisted in her duties by Bishop Philaret and the general of the army of occupation as co-regents, or provided with a second husband, and thus shunted.”

“But how in the world did you find all this out, and why didn’t you take precautionary measures before?”

“I had my first inkling of it less than three hours ago, through a few words which Phil overheard. Of course I knew that the O’Malachy wasn’t here for any good purpose, but that’s nothing new. Since I left Phil I have been working up the plot, and taking steps to frustrate it, at the same time. It was clear that the soldiers and townspeople were to rise some time to-day, probably on your arrival. It was equally clear that they could not rise without leaders; and of course I have a list, through the secret police, of all the suspicious characters that have been hanging about Tatarjé of late. They are under arrest in their own abodes at present, and are to be kept under police supervision, without being allowed to communicate with any one, until you are safely out of Thracia. When things are clear, they will be released with an apology.”

“But why not punished or expelled?”

“Ah, that is the difficulty of making use of an amateur spy, and a child at that. No tribunal would convict on the only evidence I can produce, although it has been enough to enable me to explode the plot. But I shall get the Court back to Bellaviste as soon as possible, and with you and your wife and family safe in England, the plotters can’t do much.”

“But how did my arrest come into your plans?”

“Very simply. I wanted you not to come on to Tatarjé, but to return to the frontier, where Nadia and the children could join you. I started to meet you; but I had run it too close, and I saw you would have left Velisi long before I got here. I couldn’t be sure that a telegram would stop you, and therefore I employed physical force.”

“Wasn’t it a slight oversight, if you meant your scheme to be a secret, that you didn’t have my man arrested too?” asked Caerleon drily. “As it is, he went on in the train to Tatarjé.”

Cyril jumped out of his chair. “No,” he said, sinking back again, “don’t be afraid. I am not going to use strong language, but if ever a man might be excused for doing so----! Didn’t you tell me in your very last letter that Franks had got potted by some idiotic duffer who was out shooting with you, and that you were servantless so long as he was _hors de combat_?”

“What a memory you have for little things! Unfortunately it has played you false here, though, for I brought Robert with me instead.”

“And I pictured you as rejoicing in your freedom! What possessed you to bring a raw lad on a journey like this?”

“I had no intention whatever of taking him, so you were right there. But I telegraphed to him to bring me some things to town, in order to save time, and he was so broken-hearted when he found that he was not to go with me, that I let him come.”

“And what do you expect him to do at Tatarjé?”

“Well, I should say that he would go straight to Nadia, and terrify her out of her wits by telling her that I am gone to prison.”

“Exactly; and Nadia will proceed at once to do something heroic. Will she come here and insist on sharing your captivity, or will she go to the Queen and demand your release?--that is the question. There will be a train in from Tatarjé in a few minutes, so we shall soon see whether she is coming here.”

But the question was to be answered even before the train came in. A deprecating knock at the door heralded the police superintendent with “A telegram for his Excellency the Minister,” and Cyril tore it open.

“Now the fat is in the fire with a vengeance!” he said, when the man had left the room, keeping his eyes upon Caerleon, as though he feared an attack from behind. “Evidently Nadia has gone to the Queen. Stefanovics says, ‘Her Majesty desires your Excellency to present yourself at the Villa immediately. Pray do not delay.’ That is a little warning from himself, of course. Well, I suppose we must take the train back. Oh, you may as well come too. Nadia will suspect me of having made away with you if I don’t produce you in the flesh, and I hope I have provided against the rising for which your appearance was intended to be the signal. At any rate, I have done my part. If the Queen spoils things, it won’t be the first time, and she will suffer as much as I shall. Come along.”

“Not until I get hold of a hat and a decent coat. You don’t expect me to appear in a garb like this?”

“Yes, I do; it’s an excellent disguise. No one in his senses will suspect you of coming to start a revolution in this get-up. Here, turn the collar of that ulster up, and pull your cap well down over your eyes. If I can get you into Tatarjé and out again without being recognised, I will. I shall have a carriage at the station.”

“I should much prefer not to be recognised,” said Caerleon uncomfortably, as they left the police-office. Cyril laughed.

“You must see that in a case like this it is my bounden duty to minimise your personal advantages as far as possible. If you were not tall and straight and fair-haired, with a beautiful wife and two fine children, there would be no need to be afraid of you; but as it is, what chance has a poor, wretched little woman, who has succeeded in alienating every single person with whom she has anything to do, in comparison with you and your family? There wouldn’t even be the excitement of a struggle. The Queen and little Michael would go down like ninepins. But if I smuggle you through in that venerable ulster and a cap which may have cost you twopence-halfpenny when it was new (but I doubt it), your worst enemy couldn’t accuse either of us of trying to catch the public eye. So come along.”

Ensconced in the corners of a reserved carriage, they made the journey without discovery, and at Tatarjé Cyril succeeded in transferring his brother unnoticed to the closed landau which was in waiting. They drove straight to the Villa, and entered by a side-door, thus gaining Cyril’s office without meeting any one.

“Stay here till I want you,” commanded Cyril. “There are some cigars in that drawer; but keep the door shut, for the Queen objects to smoking, as she does to most things. When I produce you, it will be by way of a grand _tableau_.”

He hurried up-stairs, and the servant announced him at the door of the anteroom. The lady sitting there, who happened to be Baroness von Hilfenstein’s daughter Paula, gave him a look full of interest and excitement as he passed, and said in a low voice--

“The Princess of Dardania is with her Majesty.”

“This is more thrilling even than I thought,” he murmured back, with his hand upon the door, and immediately entered, to find Nadia sitting on the sofa between the Queen and the Princess. Before he could do more than bow to the royal ladies, Philippa sprang up from the corner where she had been playing with the other children, and, running to him, caught his hand.

“Oh, Uncle Cyril, these ladies have been saying such horrid things about you. I thought that one,” indicating the Princess, “was nice, but,” in a perfectly audible whisper, “I don’t now. They say that it was you who had father put in prison!”

“And you are the only one to believe in me?” said Cyril. “Brave little girl!”

“Oh no, Cyril,” said Nadia eagerly. “It is only that the Queen and the Princess don’t know you as we do, and so can’t see the absurdity of the idea. If you would just assure them that you had nothing to do with Caerleon’s arrest, they must be convinced.”

“I should be delighted to oblige you if it was in my power,” returned Cyril. “Unfortunately it is not possible, since the arrest was effected by my order.”

Nadia sank back speechless and horrorstruck, and Queen Ernestine and the Princess of Dardania exchanged looks of triumph.

“What did I tell you?” asked the Princess.

“Count Mortimer,” said the Queen with energy, holding Nadia’s hand in hers, and rising in order to give greater effect to her words, “owing to various unfortunate circumstances, I have feared at times that I was unable to judge you impartially; but I can say truthfully that I should never have suspected you of such an action as this. What your motive can have been I am at a loss to imagine----”

“Surely you need not ask the motive,” interrupted the Princess. “Count Mortimer feared lest the lustre of his well-earned popularity should be in the slightest degree dimmed by the appearance of a rival star in the Thracian sky.”

“I could have hoped,” the Queen went on, “that your motive was a worthier one than the gratification of such base jealousy; but I grieve to be obliged to think that this is not the case.”

“No, Ernestine,” said the Princess, “you are doing Count Mortimer an injustice. I never said that his jealousy was personal in its character, for it is political. Lord Caerleon, like any one else who stands in the way of his brother’s schemes, must be crushed.”

“Does that make it any better?” cried the Queen. “It is infamous! That you should have attempted to carry out such a despicable purpose by means of the authority with which I was induced at my husband’s dying entreaty to invest you, is merely an additional crime, Count.”

“Oh, Uncle Cyril,” entreated Philippa, “do say something! I know it was a mistake, or--or you did it for fun. Please do tell them.”

“You don’t understand, Phil, that when the Queen and the Princess are pleased to accuse me, it is my duty to listen in silence, and rejoice to find myself honoured with so much of their attention.”

“If you can possibly suggest the very smallest excuse for your extraordinary action, Count,” said the Queen, “I beg that you will at once bring it forward.”

“Madame, if your Majesty considers that I have no excuse, I would not be so wanting in respect as to offer any.”

“Oh, Cyril,” cried Nadia, “won’t you explain? I know there must be some good reason for all that has happened, but you are torturing me.”

“At least pity your sister,” said the Queen, more gently; “and offer any explanation that may seem to you to be adequate.”

“No explanation that I can offer is likely to be satisfactory to your Majesty,” said Cyril. “You were good enough to observe, madame, that it was at the late King’s wish that I was intrusted with my present office. The duties of that office I must continue to strive to fulfil as long as I hold it. My popularity in the country signifies to me as little as the favour of your Majesty, which I cannot flatter myself I have ever had the honour of possessing. It was not in defence of my own popularity that I had my brother arrested to-day, but in that of the kingdom of my master, your son.”

“Are you trying to excuse yourself by casting suspicion upon your brother?” cried the Princess; but Cyril did not flinch.

“Madame,” he went on, still addressing himself to the Queen, “but for the steps I have found it necessary to take to-day, the King and yourself would now be prisoners, and my brother proclaimed King of Thracia once more. Unknown to him, a conspiracy had been formed with that object in view, and this conspiracy I have foiled by the means which have had the misfortune to displease you.”

“Oh, Cyril, I can never thank you enough!” cried Nadia. “You have saved us from utter misery. Carlino will express our gratitude to you himself, for the idea of reigning here again would horrify him.”

“You have reason to believe in the existence of this conspiracy, then, madame?” asked the Queen sharply, turning to her.

“Madame, it explains many things that have terrified and perplexed me since I have been at Tatarjé, and my brother has relieved me from a horrible anxiety.”

“It is evident that we have misjudged you, Count,” said the Queen, “although I cannot but say that your methods of working are open to grave misconstruction. Pray remember that in future I wish to be kept informed if you find it needful to take any action of the kind.”

“But, Ernestine,” said the Princess, as Cyril bowed, “is poor Lord Caerleon to be left languishing in a dungeon while you instruct Count Mortimer in his duties? Should he not be released?”

“If your Majesty will allow me, I will send for my brother,” said Cyril, and on receiving permission, he left the room.

“Stefanovics,” he said, catching sight of the chamberlain in the hall, and scenting a joke, “send the man who is in my office there to me, will you?”

A smothered exclamation of “Your Majesty!” showed him that the recognition had been complete, and hastily descending the stairs, he found M. Stefanovics on his knees, kissing Caerleon’s hand, much to the embarrassment of its owner.

“Come, this won’t do,” said Cyril. “What about your oath to King Michael, Stefanovics? I’m sure it was a good thing I took all my precautions, if a stalwart supporter of the reigning dynasty like yourself can be carried away so completely. Lord Caerleon is a simple British tourist, do you understand? Come along, Caerleon. By the bye, could you possibly manufacture any engagement that required you to get home at once?”

“There’s no need. The County Council meets in three days, and as chairman----”

“Of course, the very thing--vague and sufficiently high-sounding. Now prepare for a surprise.”

The surprise Cyril intended was the presence of the Princess of Dardania; but Nadia met her husband in the doorway, and at first neither of them found it possible to give a thought to the other occupants of the room. When Nadia was calm again, Cyril led his brother in and presented him to the Queen, excusing his very uncourtierlike appearance by explaining that he had merely come to Tatarjé to fetch his wife and children, and must leave again for England that evening. He further defined the County Council as something between a Provincial Diet and the Imperial Reichstag, for the Queen’s benefit, and succeeded in impressing her with the idea that for Caerleon to be late in arriving at his post would be a crime but little removed from high treason. He had so much to say that it was not until the visitors were taking their leave of the Queen that the Princess of Dardania was able to address herself directly to Caerleon.

“I trust you have not forgotten me, Lord Caerleon?” she said graciously; “or that most interesting fortnight of your visit to Schloss Herzensruh?”

“Madame,” responded Caerleon, with perfect truth, “it would be absolutely impossible for me to forget either the one or the other.”

“You are too flattering,” said the Princess, making him a curtsey, as she had done once in that far-off time; “but I can interpret your meaning with the help of your words and actions then. Ah well, Lord Caerleon, you piqued me not a little in that fortnight, for I could not make you care for me, in spite of all my efforts; but now that I have seen your wife, I can understand, and pardon.”