Chapter 2

"Certainly," said Mr. Jones, ruffled by his cross-examination; "it always has been."

The stranger snorted contemptuously. "You are good at explanations. Perhaps you can explain this."

Mr. Jones looked down at the baby's coat. To his amazement he beheld a crown and monogram embroidered on it.

"That," he replied, taking refuge in fatuity, "is the laundry mark."

"Come, come, enough of this fooling. Give me the child."

Mr. Jones took no notice.

"Give me the child, I say."

Mr. Jones paled but did not move.

"Very good, then." The stranger turned to his attendants. "Rupert, Rudolph," he said.

Two revolver barrels flashed out.

Mr. Jones stood up hastily, the child clutched tightly in his arms. "What do you mean by threatening me like this? What right have you to the child? I never heard of such a thing; I shall inform the police."

"Porkhound," yelled the stranger, "do you defy me? me, Count Achtung von Eisenbahn? Give me the babe. I must have him. I will have him. He is ours--our Prince Fritz, the last of the Hohenzollerns."

The great moment had come. Jones's face lit up. Death--a hero's death--might claim him, but he would make democracy safe for the world.

"Last of the Hohenzollerns!" he shouted; "then, by Jove, this is going to be the last of _him_." And with a yell of triumph he hurled the infant out into the night.

From the child in its trajectory came a long ear-splitting shriek, followed by a gentle wailing.

Mr. Jones sat up and blinked his eyes. The professorial gentleman was still in the far corner; the lady was still opposite him; the child was wailing softly.

The lady smiled. "I'm afraid baby has broken your nap. A passing express frightened him."

"Not at all," murmured Mr. Jones incoherently, searching for his novel, the one solace left amid the ruin of his dreams.

"Pardon me," said the lady, "but if you are looking for your book you threw it out of the window just before you woke up."

Mr. Jones sank back resignedly. His glory had gone, his book had gone.

Once again he settled himself in his corner to sleep--perchance to dream.

* * * * *

* * * * *

STRANGE BEHAVIOUR OF THE GERMAN ENVOYS.

"Five minutes later the German plenipotentiaries reappeared, dived into Allied representatives, emerged, jumped into their car and drove off."--_Dublin Evening Mail_.

* * * * *

CHANT ROYAL OF CRICKET.

When earth awakes as from some dreadful night And doffs her melancholy mourning state, When May buds burst in blossom and requite Our weary eyes for Winter's tedious wait, Then the pale bard takes down his dusty lyre And strikes the thing with more than usual fire. Myself, compacted of an earthier clay, I oil my bats and greasy homage pay To Cricket, who, with emblems of his court, Stumps, pads, bails, gloves, begins his Summer sway. Cricket in sooth is Sovran King of Sport.

As yet no shadows blur the magic light, The glamour that surrounds the opening date. Illusions yet undashed my soul excite And of success in luring whispers prate. I see myself in form; my thoughts aspire To reach the giddy summit of desire. Lovers and such may sing a roundelay, Whate'er that be, to greet returning May; For me, not much--the season's all too short; I hear the mower hum and scent the fray. Cricket in sooth is Sovran King of Sport.

A picture stands before my dazzled sight, Wherein the hero, ruthlessly elate, Defies all bowlers' concentrated spite. That hero is myself, I need not state. 'Tis sweet to see their captain's growing ire And his relief when I at last retire; 'Tis sweet to run pavilionwards and say, "Yes, somehow I _was_ seeing them to-day"-- Thus modesty demands that I retort To murmured compliments upon my play. Cricket in sooth is Sovran King of Sport.

The truth's resemblance is, I own, but slight To these proud visions which my soul inflate. This is the sort of thing: In abject fright I totter down the steps and through the gate; Somehow I reach the pitch and bleat, "Umpire, Is that one leg?" What boots it to inquire? The impatient bowler takes one grim survey, Speeds to the crease and whirls--a lightning ray? No, a fast yorker. Bang! the stumps cavort. Chastened, but not surprised, I go my way. Cricket in sooth is Sovran King of Sport.

Lord of the Game, for whom these lines I write, Fulfil my present hope, watch o'er my fate; Defend me from the swerver's puzzling flight; Let me not be run out, at any rate. As one who's been for years a constant trier, Reward me with an average slightly higher; Let it be double figures. This I pray, Humblest of boons, before my hair grows grey And Time's flight bids me in the last resort Try golf, or otherwise your cause betray. Cricket in sooth is Sovran King of Sport.

King, what though Age's summons I obey, Resigned to dull rheumatics and decay, Still on one text my hearers I'll exhort, As long as hearers within range will stay: "Cricket in sooth is Sovran King of Sport."

* * * * *

"Royal Horse Guards.--Captain (acting Marquis) W.B. Marquis of Northampton resigns his commission."--_Provincial Paper_.

But retains, we trust, his acting rank.

* * * * *

SPRING MODES AT MURMANSK.

We, the enthusiasts of the Relief Force who sailed from England with the fine phrases of the Evening Press ringing in our ears have arrived at Murmansk, only to be disappointed and disillusioned. It is not that the expedition looks less attractive than it did, or that our leaders fail to inspire us with confidence. It is because the gilt has disappeared from the sartorial gingerbread of our adventure.

Why did we leap forward to volunteer before we were wanted and continue to leap till, for very boredom, they sent us embarcation orders and a free warrant? Was it simply to escape an English Spring? Was it not rather that we might win our furs--might wear the romantic outfit which we were led to believe was _de rigueur_ in the most exclusive circle, namely, the Arctic? What was the first remark of our female relatives when we showed them the War Office telegram? Was it not, "Of course you must be photographed in your furs and things?"

No wonder, after the monotony of khaki, if we looked forward to the glory and distinction of fur-lined caps and coats, Shackleton boots, huge snow-goggles and enormous gloves turning hands to savage paws.

And now what spectacle greets us at Murmansk, with everybody's camera cleared for action? What is the example set by those to whom we naturally look for light and leading? Behold the General and his Staff coming on board in the snow-reflected sunshine flashing with the gold and scarlet trimmings of Whitehall. And what of the old residents, our comrades? They are playing football in shorts and sweaters.

The genial R.T.O. cheered us up a little and kept the more resolute of our Arctic heroes in countenance by sporting a magnificent and irresistible fur head-dress; but an R.T.O. can do what would be regarded as nerve in you and me; and, moreover, here is the A.P.M. in the familiar flat cap, encircled with the traditional colour of authority.

Even the nice little Laplander and his lady, driving in to do shopping, drawn on a sleigh by a nicely-matched trio of reindeer, was sitting on more furs than he or Mrs. L. were wearing; while even the naked team seemed to feel the heat oppressive.

I suppose we have come too late in the year for the romance of skins and ski, and must condescend to the familiar gum-boot until the mosquito season opens and a man may design some becoming effect in muslin.

Of course there is still plenty of snow to be photographed against in the full splendour of a Hyperborean disguise; but is it worth while to unpack one's valise for that? And anyhow would not the atmosphere of the picture be marred, the pose of the explorer be rendered unnatural by his consciousness of insincerity and his fear of imminent suffocation?

So the Photographic Press of England must bear their loss as best they may.

* * * * *

"Dear Sir,--Mr. Gould has authorised this committee to hereby and of this date relinquish the title of world's open champion at tennis. He feels it is inexpedient for him to defend his title."--_Field_.

It is understood that he is afraid that the strain might make him split another infinitive.

* * * * *

"Mr. Siddons Kemble, a young Bensonian actor, who plays the part of 'A Poet' in 'Cyrano,' is the great-great-grandson of the actress Sarah Siddons and her equally famous brothers, John Phillip Kemble, Charles Kemble and Henry Stephen Kemble."--_Evening News_.

There must have been a remarkable amount of close intermarriage in the KEMBLE family.

* * * * *

ROYAL ACADEMY--FIRST DEPRESSIONS.

* * * * *

* * * * *

THE COOK.

(_With acknowledgments to TENNYSON and CALVERLEY_.)

Urged by the Government, with loyal step I to the Labour Bureau made my way To find a cook; and there beheld a queen, Tall, fair, arrayed in feathers and in fur And all things beautiful. Whom when I saw, "Madam," said I, "they tell me, who should know, That you have skill of Mrs. Beeton's art. If that be so--" She nodded "Yes," and I Assumed a courage, though I had it not, And spoke again: "Then tell me, if you will, Of your experience and past career. Whence come you?" And the cook--why not?--replied:

"I come from haunts of bomb and shell, I've toyed with lathes and gauges, I've sparkled out a sudden swell With quite unheard-of wages.

"By thirty shops I've paused to buy Silk stockings, skirts and undies, In fifty stores I've sat to try Smart tango boots for Sundays.

"Down Bond Street gaily would I float, Buy chairs, pianos, tables, With here and there a sealskin coat, And here and there some sables.

"I'd slip, I'd slide, I'd jazz, I'd glide, I'd fox-trot, one- and two-step, And show with pardonable pride My skill at every new step.

"I'd dance until my soles wore raw, When, tired of dissipation, I'd lie in bed whole weeks and draw My out-of-work donation.

"And when that palled I'd rise to see What fortunes cooks are earning, And how the ladies long for me With dumb pathetic yearning.

"I flit about, I skip, I roam Through houses past the telling, Through many a stately ducal home, And many a Mayfair dwelling.

"I chatter in the servants' hall, I make a sudden sally, And with the parlourmaid I brawl Or bicker with the valet.

"I murmur under moon and stars With blue and khaki lovers, I linger in resplendent bars With golden taxi shuvvers.

"But out again I come and know That Fate will fail me never, For wars may come and wars may go, But cooks go on for ever."

* * * * *

"SUN ECLIPSE IN MAY.

WIRELESS OPERATORS' HELP ASKED."

_Daily Paper_.

We ought all to put our shoulders to the wheel and make this Victory Eclipse a big thing.

* * * * *

"All the Lumpkins are clever and some of them are brilliant.... The head of the family, Lord Durham, is an exceptionally ready and witty man."--_The Globe._

Readers of GOLDSMITH may suggest that _Anthony Lumpkin, Esq_., was not a brilliant Lumpkin; but it may well be that he was only distantly connected with that branch of the family from which Lord DURHAM traces his descent. In this connection a correspondent suggests the following train of thought: Lambton--Lambkin--Lump(ofcoal)kin.

* * * * *

"We stand at the noon of the greatest day the world has seen, with all the hideous darkness of the night behind and all the glory of the dawn before."

_Mr. Arthur MEE in "Lloyd's News_."

It looks as if the dawn would be a day late.

* * * * *

* * * * *

ESSENCE OF PARLIAMENT.

_Monday, May 5th_.--Sir AUCKLAND GEDDES is the maid-of-all-work of the Ministry. Deputising for the PRESIDENT OF THE BOARD OF TRADE he had an opportunity of displaying an encyclopaedic knowledge which fully justified his position as President-elect of a Canadian University. Mr. JOYNSON-HICKS probably thought he had floored him with a poser on "gas-scrubbing," but Sir AUCKLAND knew all about it.

He is discreet as he is erudite. An inquiry about meat-imports elicited plenty of information about "ewe-mutton" and "wether-mutton," but not a word about the Manchurian and other exotic beef recently foisted upon London consumers.

Mr. REMER is one of the most attractive and enterprising of the new Members. But I am afraid, despite his cheery appearance, that he is a bit of a pessimist. With Peace believed to be so near, it was distinctly depressing to find him calling attention to the danger of a deficiency of pit-props "in any future war," and refusing to be put off with the usual official answer, "in view of the urgency of the question."

There are few topics which excite more general interest in the House than the shortage of whisky. When, in reply to a complaint by Colonel THORNE that a firm of Scotch distillers had refused to furnish their customers with adequate supplies, Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS remarked that he would like to be supplied with "specific cases," he was, no doubt unconsciously, expressing an almost universal desire.

Before the War, as we learned from Mr. ILLINGWORTH, Government offices used to send on the average about forty thousand telegrams a month. At the end of it the number had risen to close on a million. Much of the increase is due, no doubt, to zeal for the rapid despatch of public business, but some, one fears, to the natural tendency of dug-outs (even in Whitehall) to protect themselves with wire-entanglements.

If one were to believe all that the Scottish Members said about their own country in the debate upon the Housing (Scotland) Bill Dr. JOHNSON'S gibes would be abundantly justified. Half the population, according to Sir DONALD MACLEAN, are living in such over-crowded conditions that the wonder is that any of the children survive to man's estate, and still more that they retain sufficient energy to run most of the British Empire. But in the circumstances a certain amount of exaggeration may be forgiven. When it is a case of touching the Imperial Exchequer for local advantage the Scot is no whit behind the Irishman in "making the poor face."

_Tuesday, May 6th_.--The Scottish peers are no less impressed with the miserable condition of their country, Lord FORTEVIOT declared that in the Western Hebrides the housing accommodation was no better than the caves of primitive man. Yet these cave-dwellers furnished some of the stoutest recruits to the British army. Perhaps it was their early experience that made them so much at home in the trenches.

Their lordships gave a Second Reading to the Solicitors' Bill, designed to enable the Incorporated Law Society to punish as well as try offending attorneys, instead of leaving their sentences to be determined by a Divisional Court. The LORD CHANCELLOR and Lord BUCKMASTER were of one mind in thinking that the measure would be enthusiastically welcomed by the lower branch of their profession--presumably on the principle of "Better the devil you know than the devil you don't know."

The issue of an official pamphlet on "The Classics in British Education" aroused the wrath of Colonel YATE, who contemptuously asked what "suchlike subjects" had to do with reconstruction. Before the Minister could answer, Sir JOHN REES, fearing lest all Anglo-Indians should be thought to hold the same cultural standard, jumped to his feet to declare that he had read the pamphlet and found it admirable.

Of all the new Departments instituted during the War the Food Ministry has best justified its existence. Mr. GEORGE ROBERTS'S account of its activities was very well received, and many regrets were expressed that he should have come to bury CAESAR as well as to praise him. Mr. CLYNES, to whom and the late Lord RHONDDA much of the Ministry's success was due, was particularly insistent on the need of some permanent Government control, to counter the machinations of the food-trusts.

The chief criticisms of the Ministry related to its milk-policy, and these were appropriately dealt with by Mr. MCCURDY.

_Wednesday, May 7th_.--In Downing Street apparently Mesopotamia is not regarded as a "blessed word," for when Colonel WEDGWOOD asked whether that country, after its future status had been decided, would be taken out of the hands of the Foreign Office Mr. CECIL HARMSWORTH fervently replied, "I hope so!"

I wonder whether Sir DAVID BEATTY, now enjoying a well-earned holiday on the Riviera, is as grateful as he ought to be to Commander BELLAIRS for trying to get him back into harness. He has been promised both by Mr. BALFOUR and Mr. LONG the reversion of Sir ROSSLYN WEMYSS' post as First Sea Lord as soon as it is vacant. But no immediate change is contemplated. Meantime it is pleasant to learn from Mr. LONG that the late C.-in-C. of the Grand Fleet "has been consulted on Naval policy since the Armistice." So he is not yet quite forgotten.

A new form of wireless telegraphy has been invented by the Post Office officials. When really urgent messages are handed in for transmission to Paris they despatch them by passenger train; they find this method much quicker than cabling.

An attempt by Sir DONALD MACLEAN to draw attention to the recent exploits of the LORD LIEUTENANT OF IRELAND in the field of Journalism was severely suppressed by the SPEAKER, who perhaps thinks that the less said about them the better. It seems a pity that the Press Censor should have been demobilised just when his famous blue pencil might have been really useful.

Recognising that in the present temper of the House a frontal attack upon Imperial Preference was a forlorn hope the Free Traders sought to destroy it by an enfilading fire. But their ingenious attempt, in the alleged interest of the consumer, to extend to China tea the same reduction as to the product of India and Ceylon was easily defeated. Mr. CHAMBERLAIN means to have no Chinks in his armour.

_Thursday, May 8th_.--When the Ministry of Health Bill was in the Commons some objection was raised to the multiplicity of powers conferred upon it. But if certain noble lords could have their way the measure would become a veritable octopus, stretching its absorptive tentacles over all the Departments of State. It would take over the inspectorship of factories from the Home Office, the control of quack medicines from the Privy Council and the relief of the poor from the Local Government Board. Fortunately for Dr. ADDISON the Government refused to throw these further burdens upon him. After all, DISRAELI'S famous phrase, "_Sanitas sanitatum omnia sanitas_," must not be translated too literally.

Members were all agog to hear what the Government might have to say about the Peace-terms announced this morning. Mr. BOTTOMLEY challenged the adequacy of the financial provisions, but the HOME SECRETARY evidently felt unequal to a controversy with so great an expert in money-matters, and requested him to wait for his "big brother," Mr. BONAR LAW.

A proposal by Mr. SYDNEY ARNOLD to raise the limit of exemption from income-tax from £130 to £250 was strongly backed by the Labour Party. In resisting it the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER pointed out that the Labour Party had opposed indirect taxation and now they were opposing direct taxation. In what form did they consider that working-men should contribute to the expenses of their country? No answer to this blunt question was forthcoming.

* * * * *

THE CHILDREN'S BELLS.

[The Bells of St, Clement's, which have been too much out of order to ring for many years, are now being restored. It is hoped they will be ready to ring the Peace in.]

Where are your oranges? Where are your lemons? What, are you silent now, Bells of St. Clement's? You, of all bells that rang Once in old London, You, of all bells that sang, Utterly undone? You whom the children know Ere they know letters, Making Big Ben himself Call you his betters? Where are your lovely tones, Fruitful and mellow, Full-flavoured orange-gold, Clear lemon-yellow? Ring again, sing again, Bells of St. Clement's! Call as you swing again, "Oranges! Lemons!" Fatherless children Are listening near you; Sing for the children-- The fathers will hear you.

* * * * *

* * * * *

MUSICAL RECONSTRUCTION.

_(By our Special Reporter, who is also busy with the Coal Commission)_.

At the meeting of the Musical Reconstruction Commission last Saturday the President, Mr. Justice Bland, announced the resignation of Mr. Patrick Horan, an Irish choirmaster, owing to the results of his adjudicating between the competing Sinn Fein brass bands at a "Feis," or festival, held at Athlone on Easter Monday. Mr. Justice Bland said that he felt sure he was interpreting the feelings of all the members of the Commission in uniting to express regret at Mr. Horan's resignation and hope for his speedy recovery from his injuries. Continuing, the President said he had received a letter from the Minister of Music, informing him that Sir Hercules Plunkett, K.B.E., Chairman of the Amalgamated Society of Mandolin, Balalaika and Banjo-makers, had been invited to fill the vacant place.

Mr. Tony Hole, Scriabin Fellow of Syndicalist Economics at Caius College, Cambridge, then presented a memorandum on the Guild Control of Composers on the bagis of a forty-hour week, with equal opportunity for performance, the economic use of orchestral resources and the preferential treatment of Russian folk-tunes as thematic material. All members of the Guild should receive the same salary free of income tax; all performances should be free, and applause or encores prohibited as likely to lead to the rupture of artistic solidarity. The profits from the sale of programmes should go into the National Exchequer, but should be earmarked for a Pension Fund for the relief of composers on their compulsory retirement at the age of sixty.