Part 9

“Mille pardons, mademoiselle,” said Reggie, as he arrived in the launch and grabbed at his hat and, involuntarily, sat down upon Miss Crowland. With a firm and friendly hand she assisted him to recover his balance. She was in all respects made to sustain shocks. Her grey eyes smiled at him.

A man--an oldish, solemn man who was horrified--confronted Reggie. “You cannot come here, monsieur,” he cried in French.

“I dare to assure you of the contrary,” says Reggie in the same language.

“This is a private launch.”

“Perfectly. Of the Prince of Ragusa. It is why I have arrived. I have news for the Prince of Ragusa--news which will surprise him marvellously.”

The solemn man was embarrassed. “Nevertheless I protest, sir.”

“I make a note of your protest,” said Reggie, and bowed.

The solemn man bowed--and seemed satisfied.

Reggie sat down beside the little Alice Warenne, who had been watching all this very demurely, a contrast to Miss Crowland, who was frankly amused. “Permit a lover of art to address you, mademoiselle,” said he. “I desire infinitely to thank you for the great pleasure which you have given me.”

“How, sir? I do not understand.” She looked more a baby than ever.

“Your little sleeves of satinette,” Reggie murmured. “Your adorable little sleeves of satinette.”

And then she laughed, and Reggie knew that he had made no mistake. She was the soubrette of the Variétés. The laugh of Mlle Ducher was unforgettable. “I am a great artist, sir, am I not?”

Hilda Crowland smiled at her. “Monsieur is a friend of yours, Alice?” she said in English.

“All in good time. Only an admirer at present, darling.” She gave Reggie a glance which was not the least childish.

“I dare to hope,” Reggie said, and again she laughed.

They were alongside the yacht. The ladies were handed to the gangway, and Reggie went up it close on their heels. There seemed to be a deputation waiting for them on deck, a middle-aged deputation which, on the coming of the girls, bared its grey and bald heads. Two men stood out from it who lifted their caps, but put them on again, one a young fellow of a sprightly air, the other grey and grave, with a certain assured stateliness. At him Alice made a saucy curtsy. He came forward and took Hilda Crowland’s hand. “My dear child,” he said in English, “be very welcome,” and he kissed her on both cheeks.

She flushed faintly. “I do not understand you, sir.” She withdrew herself.

“I present to you your cousin, the Comte de Spoleto.” The young man smiled at her and kissed her hand. The elder man turned to the others. “Gentlemen--I receive to-day my daughter, the Duchesse de Zara.” One by one they came forward and were presented and kissed the wondering girl’s hand. And at the end of them marched Reggie and stood before His Highness the Prince of Ragusa, who became immediately the most amazed of men. “I do not know you, sir,” he said, with intense disgust. “Who is this, Audagna?” He turned to the man who had been on the launch.

“I represent her mother,” said Reggie.

A wave of emotion shook the deputation. Hilda flushed and looked at Alice, who laughed. His Highness stood very stiff.

“I have not desired that her mother should be represented,” he announced.

“I cannot defend the conduct of your Highness,” said Reggie blandly.

“I do not admit your right to be here, sir,” the Prince cried.

“That makes your conduct still more suspicious,” said Reggie.

“Suspicious!” The Prince gasped and turned upon the others. “He says suspicious!” Horror overwhelmed them all. The Prince was the first to recover his self-control. “Be pleased to follow me, sir,” he said, with awful courtesy. “Hilda, my dear child.” He gave her his arm. “Spoleto!”

The family party and Reggie went down to His Highness’s cabin. Only Hilda was asked to sit, and in perfect calm she sat. Nothing but a shade more colour in her cheeks, a brighter gleam in her eye, confessed that her stately head deigned to take any interest in her strange situation.

The Prince of Ragusa turned to Reggie. “I do not yet know your name, sir.” So Reggie gave him a card. “Mr. Reginald Fortune--a lawyer, sir?”

“I am a surgeon. But let’s hope we shan’t need my professional qualifications.”

“It is very well. You are here to represent my wife. I do not allow that my wife has any right to share my plans for my daughter. But since you have intruded, sir, I do not choose to conceal my intentions. I have resumed my control of my daughter because she is now of an age to take her proper place at my side, to perform her duty to her family, and to carry out the plans which I have formed for her.”

“Admirable. And shall we hear Miss Crowland’s intentions in the matter?” Reggie looked at the girl.

“Be pleased to speak of my daughter as the Duchesse de Zara.”

A throb passed through the yacht. Reggie looked out of the port-hole and saw the water sliding by. “So we’re off,” he smiled.

“The yacht sails immediately for Ragusa. I shall not be able to put you ashore, sir. For any discomfort you undergo be pleased to blame yourself and your employer. I see a rashness in your actions which I should have expected from my wife.”

Reggie chuckled. “Well, well. And, of course, you don’t like being rash!”

“On our arrival at Ragusa you may, if you choose, remain and be present at my daughter’s marriage.”

“Oh. Shall I be present, sir?” said Hilda, with a dangerous meekness.

“My dear child!” His Highness said affectionately. “Mr. Fortune--you have the happiness to be present at the betrothal of my daughter, the Duchesse de Zara, to my nephew, the Comte de Spoleto.”

It was Reggie who preserved an appropriate calm. He only gave one chuckle.

“How? But--but it is incredible!” Spoleto cried in French, and recoiled, gesticulating.

The Prince flushed and glared at him.

Hilda stood up. “This is ridiculous, sir,” she said, and was pale.

“Ridiculous, that is the word,” Spoleto cried.

“Be silent, Spoleto. My dear child, you do not understand.”

“I understand enough. You say you are my father. I think I ought to know my father. I--I do not mind knowing you. But this--it is absurd and insulting. I will not hear any more about it. This gentleman--I know nothing about him.” She surveyed Spoleto with disdain. “I do not wish to make his acquaintance.”

“Thank you very much,” Spoleto cried.

“Hilda! Be pleased to remember that you are now to do your duty as my daughter. I do not permit disobedience.”

“It’s no use to talk so,” said Miss Crowland. “I am not a baby.”

His Highness, whose grey hair was becoming dishevelled, made a violent gesture. “English! She is as English as her mother.”

“Oh. If you are going to say things against my mother I will go,” said Miss Crowland. “You came from my mother, sir. I should like to speak to you.”

Reggie bowed and opened the door for her. As they went out he heard Spoleto say in French, “Do you see, my uncle, this does not do,” and then a storm. The house of Ragusa was divided against itself in throes.

On deck, Miss Crowland seemed to have some difficulty in making up her mind what to say. “Does my mother know about this?” she broke out at last.

“That’s between you and your conscience, isn’t it?” Reggie smiled.

“I haven’t told her anything, but she has never told me anything,” Miss Crowland said fiercely. “How did she come to send you here?”

“Some rather odd things happened at school, you know.”

“Did they?” said Miss Crowland, in delighted amazement. “What things?”

“I wonder if you know who little Alice Warenne really is? She is an actress from the Theatre des Variétés in Paris.” Miss Crowland laughed. “She was employed to get a photograph of you, to find out all about you, to arrange for you to be kidnapped like this, and to persuade you to come aboard.”

“Monsieur is a detective!” Alice slid up between them. “Oh, but a very great detective.”

“I knew all that. Except that she is an actress.” Miss Crowland turned to her. “Are you an actress?”

“Darling!” Alice laughed all over her baby face. “That is the prettiest compliment, is it not, M. the detective?”

“If you think she has cheated me, she has not. She told me that the Prince of Ragusa said he was my father, and that he wanted me to come on his yacht. My mother never would tell me anything about my father. I didn’t think that was fair. So I came. And now, Mr.--Mr. Fortune, what will my mother do?”

“What shall we all do?” Reggie laughed. “You’re in a hole and your mother’s in a hole, and the Prince of Ragusa is in the deepest hole of the three.”

“Excepting always M. the detective,” Alice laughed. “Look, monsieur--the beautiful England--she vanishes! Adieu, the respectable country and the nice policemen!”

“Do you imagine you are here to look after me?” said Miss Crowland fiercely.

“Think of me as a mother,” said Reggie, and she went away in a rage.

“Well, monsieur?” Alice laughed at him. “You are making friends everywhere. You are content?”

“If I had a razor and a clean shirt,” Reggie said.

“Alas, monsieur, I have none. I do not play--how do you call them?--principal boys. Bon voyage, monsieur.” She tripped away.

It was made clear to Reggie that he was not going to be popular on board. The retinue of the Prince avoided him emphatically. The royal family remained below. He was taken to a cabin, and there dinner was served him.

“And not a bad dinner either,” said Reggie, as he went on deck again.

It was dark and a moonless night. The yacht was meeting a southerly breeze and the first of the ocean swell and grew lively. Reggie had the deck to himself. He was nearly at the end of his cigar before any one disturbed his humorous meditations.

“Mr. Fortune? You amuse yourself?” It was the Comte de Spoleto.

“I can smile.”

“In effect, my friend, we are ridiculous. My uncle he is a dreamer--a student. He sees a thing in his mind, it is logical, it is to his desire, and he conceives it done. He has been like that always. A temperament! He is not a man of the world.”

“I guessed that,” Reggie murmured.

“But what to do? The situation is impossible, my friend. Conceive my feelings. This young girl--she is fresh, she is superb as a morning in the mountains--and by me she is exposed to this humiliation. And I--whatever I do, I am ludicrous. I beg of you, my friend, believe that I feel it. Imagine my position.”

“Imagine mine. You might lend me a razor. But hardly a tooth-brush.”

“He will not touch land before Spain. Oh, yes, he is capable of it, my friend. But this young girl----”

“Did you bring a tooth-brush for her?”

“There is everything for her. Maids, clothes. Oh, he has thought of everything, my uncle. He calls it her trousseau. What a man!”

“Better mutiny. Seize the yacht. Can you navigate? I can’t. That was always the trouble in the pirate stories.”

“Mutiny? They would all die for him. Oh, you are laughing at me. _Mon Dieu!_ my friend, this is very serious. I beg of you, confide in me. You must have some plan. I promise you, I desire nothing better than to restore mademoiselle to her mother. I----”

“Spoleto!”

They turned. The Prince of Ragusa stood at the head of the companion. “My dear uncle----”

“Spoleto! You are a traitor. You----”

“That is not true!”

“You plot against me with this fellow. It is incredible. It is villainous. It is treachery.”

“Sir, I will take that from no man.”

“Yes, you will take it. You will----” It seemed to Reggie that His Highness was about to box his nephew’s ears. Reggie let himself go as the yacht pitched. They all jostled together. His Highness vanished down the companion with a crash.

“Now you’ve done it,” said Reggie.

Spoleto exclaimed, peered at the body lying below, showed Reggie a white face, and hurried down. Reggie followed slowly.

His Highness was already surrounded by servants and his suite.

“When you have all finished, I’ll tell you where he’s hurt,” said Reggie incisively.

“Ah, yes, you are a surgeon,” Spoleto cried. “Stand aside, stand aside. The gentleman is a surgeon. Tell me, is he dead?” His Highness had begun to groan.

“Don’t be futile,” said Reggie, and knelt and began to straighten out the heap. The process caused His Highness anguish. “Yes. He can’t walk. We must get him to bed to examine him.”

It was an elaborate process and punctuated with lamentations . . . when at last His Highness lay stripped in bed and groaning faintly, “My aunt, what a patient!” Reggie grimaced to himself.

“I think I am everywhere a bruise, Mr. Fortune,” the Prince groaned. “That scoundrel Spoleto!”

“That won’t do, sir. I’m sure he meant nothing,” said Reggie, with admirable magnanimity. “The--the yacht pitched. Now about the elbow.” He began handling it skilfully.

“Ah! Yes. Yes, it is certainly the elbow that is most painful. But my knee also gives me great pain. And my head aches violently.”

“The knee. Yes. The knee is badly bruised. There may be---- Ah, well, I can make you more comfortable for the time, sir. But it is my duty to tell you frankly I am anxious about the arm. I must have that elbow X-rayed at once. I am afraid there’s a fracture. A small operation may be necessary. Just a screw in, you know.”

“A screw in my elbow!” the Prince screamed.

“I suppose you don’t wish to lose your arm,” Reggie said sternly.

“Lose my right arm! Good God, Mr. Fortune! You don’t mean----”

“I mean that I must have an X-ray of your elbow immediately and surgical resources at my disposal or I won’t answer for the consequences. The yacht must make for harbour at once.”

“Am I in danger, Mr. Fortune?”

“I hope to save your arm if you give me the chance.”

“I am in your hands, Mr. Fortune,” said the Prince feebly. “Oh! If you could do something to stop this neuralgic pain in my arm----”

In fact, Reggie had a difficult time with him, which you may think was only fair. It was very late before His Highness (who took a morbid interest in his limbs) could be got to sleep; very late--or early--before Reggie went to bed, but all the while the _Giulia_ was steaming back to Tormouth, and when Reggie came on deck again “pink and beautiful”, as he remarked to his mirror, thanks to a razor and linen of Spoleto’s, the brown Tormouth headlands loomed through the morning haze.

Already upon deck were Spoleto and Hilda, walking together, negotiating, as it appeared, a defensive alliance.

“This is very gratifyin’,” said Reggie.

“How is my uncle, Mr. Fortune?” said Spoleto.

“Still asleep, thank Heaven.”

“He is not in any danger?” said Hilda.

“Well, you know, he’s so anxious about himself.”

“I should never forgive myself if anything happened!” Spoleto cried.

“Oh, I should, you know, I should,” Reggie murmured thoughtfully. They did not attend to him.

“But you are not to blame.” Hilda was interested in Spoleto. “You are not to blame for anything.”

“You say that!” Spoleto cried. “Thank you, my cousin,” and he kissed her hand.

“Oh, but you are absurd,” said Hilda, and flushed faintly and turned away.

Spoleto made a gesture of despair. “Quite, quite,” Reggie said. “So we’d better have breakfast.” During that meal he might have heard, if he had listened, the full history of the emotions of the Comte de Spoleto. He escaped from them to visit his patient.

The Prince was much cheered by a night of sleep, still excessively interested in his injuries, but now hopeful about them. He gave great honour to Reggie’s treatment of the case. “My dear sir, I must consider it providential that you were on board. Oh, but certainly providential.”

“Well, sir, the affair might have taken a different turn without me,” Reggie admitted modestly.

“Indeed, yes,” said His Highness. “Good God, Mr. Fortune, and how I resented your appearance yesterday!” He became thoughtful. “I think what annoyed me most was that any one should have discovered my plans.” He gazed at Reggie. “Are you free to tell me, Mr. Fortune? I am much interested to know what brought you here. Did Hilda say anything to her mother? Or is there a traitor in my camp? Spoleto--that little actress?”

“Here’s the traitor, sir.” Reggie took out of his pocket the Hottentot Venus.

“Good heavens!” The Prince took her affectionately. “My new palæolithic Venus.”

“You left her in the library at the Tormouth school. There are not many men in the world who have a Hottentot Venus to lose. So she suggested to me that the Prince of Ragusa was taking action with regard to Hilda Crowland.”

“You have a great deal of acumen, Mr. Fortune,” said the Prince, and the sound of the cable broke off the conversation.

There is a hospital at Tormouth. The Comte de Spoleto went on shore to bring off its X-ray man. Reggie stretched himself in a deck chair to wait events.

They were not long in arriving. A shore boat brought off the Hon. Stanley Lomas, dapper as ever, and a woman whom Reggie identified by her hair and her magnificent figure as the mother of Hilda--Mrs. Crowland--the Princess of Ragusa. Reggie went down the gangway to meet them.

Lomas sprang out of the boat. The Princess was handed out and went up the gangway. “Good God, Fortune!” Lomas shook hands. “You’re a wonder! How did you bring them back?”

“Genius--just genius.”

The Princess had met her daughter who was not abashed. “Hilda! Why do you do this extraordinary thing?”

And Hilda said quietly, “I wanted to know my father.”

“You make us all ridiculous,” the Princess cried.

“I don’t feel that.” Hilda put up her chin.

“May I present Mr. Fortune, ma’am?” Lomas put in.

Reggie bowed. “I am sorry to tell you, madame, that the Prince has had an accident. A fall down the companion. He is in bed. I am waiting for an X-ray to be taken of his arm. But I assure you there is no cause for alarm.”

“I am not alarmed,” said the Princess. “I wish to see him.”

“Certainly. You will not forget that I have told him I represent you.”

“It was an impertinence, Mr. Fortune,” said the Princess, and swept to the companion. The door of the Prince’s cabin was shut on her.

“Jam for the Prince.” Reggie made a grimace at Lomas.

“Strictly speaking, what’s my _locus standi?_” said the Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department.

“Don’t funk, Lomas. I dare say she’ll murder him. That’s where you come in.”

So they were depressed till the return of the anxious Spoleto with his X-ray man. Reggie descended upon the Prince and Princess. She was sitting upon his bed. She was smiling. She kissed her hand to His Highness as she went out.

All which Reggie observed with a face of stone.

“I am infinitely your debtor, Mr. Fortune,” His Highness beamed. “You are not married, no?”

“It becomes every day less probable,” said Reggie grimly.

“One never knows the beauty of a woman’s nature till one is suffering,” said His Highness.

The X-rays were put to work on the arm, and the operator and Reggie went off to the yacht’s dark room. As the plate came out, “I see no injury, Mr. Fortune,” the operator complained.

“Fancy that,” said Reggie.

Outside the dark room the Princess was impatiently waiting. “Well, Mr. Fortune?”

“Well, madame, there will be no need of an operation.”

The Princess frowned at him. “I suppose I am much obliged to you, Mr. Fortune. I wish to hear more of your part in the affair.”

Reggie, he has confessed, trembled. The Princess swept on. She opened the door of the music-room. She revealed Hilda and Spoleto. Hilda was being vehemently kissed.

Reggie fled. Professional instinct, he explains, took him back to his patient. “I am very pleased to tell you, sir, that there is no serious injury to the arm. Rest and good nursing are all that is now needed.”

His Highness laughed like a boy and began to chatter--all about himself.

Reggie broke in at the first chance. “It is a satisfaction to me that I leave you in such good spirits, sir.”

His Highness overflowed with gratitude. He did not know how to thank Mr. Fortune--what to offer him.

“If I might have this little lady, sir.” Reggie took up the Hottentot Venus. “It would be a pleasant memento of an interesting adventure.” And so he went off with the Hottentot Venus in his pocket. He hurried on deck to the uneasy Lomas. “You were right, Lomas. You are always right. We have no _locus standi_. And where’s that shore boat?” They embarked hurriedly and rowed away from the royal house of Ragusa. “In heaven,” said Reggie, “there is neither marrying nor giving in marriage. That’s why I’m going there. Look at her”--he produced the Hottentot Venus--“she’s the only sensible woman I ever knew. Lomas, my dear old man, do you know you will have to explain all this to your sister?”

The Chief of the Criminal Investigation Department groaned aloud.

CASE VI

THE BUSINESS MINISTER

PHASE I.--THE SCANDAL

“‘Oh, to be in England now that April’s here,’” said Reggie Fortune as, trying to hide himself in his coat, he slipped and slid down the gangway to his native land. The Boulogne boat behind him, lost in driving snow, could be inferred from escaping steam and the glimmer of a rosette of lights. “The Flying Dutchman’s new packet,” Reggie muttered, and hummed the helmsman’s song from the opera, till a squall coming round the corner stung what of his face he could not bury like small shot.

He continued to suffer. The heat in the Pullman was tinned. He did not like the toast. The train ran slow, and whenever he wiped the steamy window he saw white-blanketed country and fresh swirls of snow. So he came into Victoria some seven hours late, and it had no taxi. He said what he could. You imagine him, balanced by the two suit-cases which he could not bear to part with, wading through deep snow from the Tube station at Oxford Circus to Wimpole Street, and subsiding limp but still fluent into the arms of Sam his factotum. And the snow went on falling.

It was about this time, in his judgment 11 p.m. on 15th April, that a man fell from the top story of Montmorency House, the hugest and newest of the new blocks of flats thereabouts. He fell down the well which lights the inner rooms and, I suppose, made something of a thud as his body passed through the cushion of snow and hit the concrete below. But in the howl of the wind and the rattle of windows it would have been extraordinary if any one had heard him or taken him for something more than a slate or a chimney pot. He was not in a condition to explain himself. And the snow went on falling.

Mr. Fortune, though free from his coat and his hat and his scarf and his gloves, though scorching both hands and one foot at the hall fire, was still telling Sam his troubles when the Hon. Stanley Lomas came downstairs. Mr. Fortune said, “Help!”

“Had a good time?” said Lomas cheerily. “Did you get to Seville?”

“Oh, Peter, don’t say things like that. I can’t bear it. Have the feelings of a man. Be a brother, Lomas. I’ve been in nice, kind countries with a well-bred climate, and I come back to this epileptic blizzard, and here’s Lomas pale and perky waiting for me on the mat. And then you’re civil! Oh, Sophonisba! Sophonisba, oh!”

“I did rather want to see you,” Lomas explained.

“I hate seeing you. I hate seeing anything raw and alive. If you talk to me I shall cry. My dear man, have you had dinner?”

“Hours ago.”

“That wasn’t quite nice of you, you know. When you come to see me, you shouldn’t dine first. It makes me suspect your taste. Well, well! Come and see me eat. That is a sight which has moved strong men to tears, the pure ecstasy of joy, Lomas. The sublime and the beautiful, by R. Fortune. And Sam says Elise has a _timbale de foie gras_ and her very own _entrecôte_. Dine again, Whittington. And we will look upon the wine when it is red. My Chambertin is strongly indicated. And then I will fall asleep for a thousand years, same like the Sleeping Beauty.”

“I wish I could.”

“Lomas, old dear!” Reggie turned and looked him over. “Yes, you have been going it. You ought to get away.”

“I dare say I shall. That is one of the things I’m going to ask you--what you think about resignation.”