Part 2

"The only light in the hole was a smoking oil torch which was soon kicked over, giving me the advantage of darkness. They were afraid to strike in the dark for fear of hitting friends, but I had no such compunctions. I fought my way to my feet, using both fists and feet, and escaped the crowd, leaving them fighting together.

"I knew that the open end of the tunnel must be opposite from the fort, so I went in that direction only to encounter more Japanese, running with lights to learn the cause of the disturbance. The top of the tunnel was so low that I had to stoop and there was no room to use my sword. I dashed the leader of the relief party back upon his comrades; three or four of them fell and the rest blocked up the passageway. Before I could fight my way through, the first party came up in the rear and I was knocked down by a blow on the head with a shovel.

"They tied me hand and foot and held a council of war. Most of them were naked to the waist, and, as they gathered around the torch, with the sweat running from them in streams, they looked like little demons to me. Most of them were for killing me at once and be done with it, and I suppose I should have died then and there with a pick in my brain if one of their number, little Lieutenant Teju Okio, the only officer among them, had not interceded for me. He stood over me with a revolver in each hand and ordered them back to work. And they went reluctantly.

"In the meanwhile the Russian attacking party went on without noticing my absence. As luck would have it, they stumbled upon the very ditch which communicated with the tunnel, found the opening and came through it, cautiously firing in front of them and feeling their way. Okio heard them coming and knew that his men were caught in their own trap. At his command the Japs attacked the side walls with their picks and shovels and blocked up the passage with soil. Then he retreated with his men, leaving me alone and bound beside the barrier. He had forgotten to gag me and, when my companions came to what they imagined was the end of the works, I shouted my orders to them to dig through. Willing hands fell upon that hastily constructed barrier and in five minutes I saw a Russian hand come through, followed by the face of one of my own lieutenants, who paused in surprise when he saw me lying on the ground with a torch burning beside me.

"'Heaven help me, captain,' he cried, 'what does this mean?'

"'Cut me loose. Hurry. They are in the far end of the tunnel. Get your men through and capture them.'

"Man after man crawled through the hole until we were in sufficient force to advance with assurance of success. I led the way at double quick, but, when we came to the end of the work, there was only one man there and that one was Teju Okio. He was squatting before his miner's lamp calmly lighting a cigarette, his uniform and hands covered with mud, as if an army had walked over him, his little chest heaving like a victorious runner's after a gruelling race, a smile of satisfaction upon his face. He knew it was not our habit to give or ask quarter, yet there the brave little fellow sat smiling into the eyes of death.

"But I had not forgotten what he had done for me and I repaid my debt of gratitude by interposing my body between his enemies, just as he, a short time before, had done for me.

"'Leave this man to me,' I cried; 'get the rest. They are not far away.'

"But, search as we would, we could not find them. Neither was there another tunnel and the one we were in ended right there. I was mystified and turned to my prisoner for the explanation. He was furtively watching the ceiling above his head. Looking in that direction I saw the starry sky twinkling down through the hole in the roof of the tunnel which I had made in falling. The heroism of Teju Okio was apparent. Obeying his instructions, every one of his unarmed companions had mounted Okio's shoulders and escaped through the opening, leaving him to face the fury of the Russians alone.

"But I saw to it that they did not harm him, making him my own personal prisoner. We retreated that night before the Japs finished their tunnel and blew up the fort and, when Port Arthur fell, Teju Okio got his freedom and I was taken with the rest of the survivors to Japan. Hostilities concluded, I resigned my commission and stayed in Japan to study the language. Teju Okio was only a poor farmer's boy and he gladly came with me as my servant.

"I wrote you from the Philippines and California," he concluded, "didn't you get my letters?"

"Oh, yes," I replied, "every one of them."

"Well, to bring it up to date, I arrived in New York last Saturday, a week ago to-day; I left there this morning and motored over here. So there, my friend, you have the record of my meagre years wherein you observe I have been seeking amusement all over the earth. Sometimes I found it and sometimes I was bored to death."

"Going to stay long, Nick?"

"As far as I now know I shall remain with you for some time."

My expressions of happiness were interrupted by the ringing of the front doorbell.

"Somebody requires a pill," said Nick, as I answered it in person. "My, what a practice we have built up!"

But the visitor was not one of my patients. He was a man of about five and fifty with snow white hair which he wore rather long. His heavy moustache, also white, was tightly waxed and turned up at the ends after the manner of the German Emperor. His eyebrows, in contradistinction to his hair and moustache, were black. They were heavy and overhung a fine pair of alert, far-seeing black eyes, giving to his face a distinction which made it cling to the most casual memory. His skin, like that of Fremsted, was dark and showed the effect of an outdoor life. He seemed to be a bluff, hearty old gentleman with whom Nature had dealt kindly. On the whole there was something most pleasing about him.

"I wish to see Nicholas Fremsted," he said.

I hesitated, wondering who he might be and how he knew of Nick's presence in my house. It was then nearly two o'clock in the morning, an unseemly hour for a call whether of business or pleasure.

"Tell him General Palmora is here," he continued, and the ring of command in his voice left me no alternative but to obey.

With some misgivings I ushered him into the reception room and called Nick, feeling somehow that Nick's promised visit with me was at an end before it was begun.

The General was evidently an old friend of Nick's, for when the two men saw each other they embraced, kissing each other on the cheek like foreigners and mingling their cries of delight. When their effusive greeting was over, Nick led the old man to a chair and they began a spirited conversation in a strange tongue, while I for the moment was forgotten.

I wandered about the room making a pretence of examining my own pictures and keeping my eye on the proceedings, but I could make little out of them. The General did most of the talking. He handed Nick an official looking document engrossed with a red seal from which was suspended blue and gold ribbons. Nick held it under the hanging lamp, and the black and the gray hair mingled as the two bent their heads together over it. The General frequently tapped the paper with his slender fingers and talked rapidly, combating every argument which Nicholas seemed to advance. Finally he produced from his overcoat pocket a chamois bag which he deposited upon the table. Judging from the jingle I concluded that it contained gold coins. The argument ended when the General won some sort of a promise from Nicholas. Then, having effected his purpose, he rose abruptly, bowed low over Nick's hand and made his way to the door, which I opened for him. He bade me "good night" politely in English, and went down the steps.

When I returned to the reception room, Nick was deeply absorbed in re-reading the parchment with the red seal. His face wore a troubled look. As I went around to his side and placed a hand on his shoulder, he started like a man suddenly awakened from a deep sleep. The message before him was written in a foreign language with peculiar characters the like of which I had never seen. They might have been Russian or Hebrew. From the arrangement of the seal I imagined the screed was intended to be read from right to left.

"Can you make anything of it?" asked Nick, noting my glance.

"All Greek to me," I replied; "Has it something to do with your country?"

"Yes. It is an official command to Grand Duke--that is, I should say it is a summons to Nicholas Fremsted "to be present at the Cathedral in Nischon on New Year's Day, January 1, 19--, to bear witness and attest to the legality of the coronation of Prince Raoul as King of Bharbazonia," said Nick, reading the scroll. "It is signed by Oloff Gregory, the present king, who is eighty-two years old, and desires to abdicate."

At last the secret of Nick's nationality was out, but I was not concerned with that so much as I was with the fear that I was to lose him so soon.

"Of course you are going?" I asked.

"Yes; I gave my word to the General."

"I have never heard of this country of Bharbazonia; where is it, Nick?"

"No, of course not," said he. "It is one of the many small provinces of southeastern Europe which is generally summed up and dismissed with the expression--one of the Balkan states. My country threw off the yoke of the Turks about the same time Bulgaria obtained her freedom at the Battle of Shipka Pass, thanks to Russian intervention and their great fighting chief Grand Duke Alexoff. During that struggle Bharbazonia sent her best fighting men and all her money to Bulgaria's aid and many of the fiercest battles for the extermination of the red fez were waged in the mountains which surround the Fatherland. When the treaty was signed Bulgaria and Bharbazonia were free. Gregory was made king and the nobles, banished by the Turks, returned from exile in friendly Russia and resumed control of the land of their forefathers."

"Was the General's news the first you had of the proposed abdication?"

"No, I knew of it; but did not feel called upon to be present. He convinced me that it was my duty."

"Who is General Palmora?"

"He is one of the first men of Bharbazonia, commander-in-chief of her army. Upon his shoulders fell the brunt of the fighting which resulted in our freedom. My father and he were like brothers; a friendship like ours existed between them, Dale, and, now that father is dead, Palmora loves me like a son. All my affairs are in his hands at home. He was visiting America on business of state. Bharbazonia's interests are in charge of the Bulgarian consul in Philadelphia and, since I always leave my address with him, General Palmora experienced no difficulty in locating me."

"When do you sail?"

"I must return with the General on the _Koenig Albert_ from Hoboken next Tuesday."

"Just one week from to-day?"

"Yes. We will be in Naples, if all goes well, a week from the following Tuesday. There the General's yacht will meet us."

"What a beautiful trip you will have," I exclaimed, something of the _wanderlust_ engendered by Nick's story getting into my blood. "How I should like to go with you."

"I wish you would, Dale. We could be back in a month or so, and you will see one of the prettiest little countries in the world. The coronation services, too, are well worth the journey. Come now, make up your mind and say you will go."

The more I thought about it the more feasible it became. I had arranged to take a month in Florida, my first extended vacation in eight years, and it would not be a difficult matter to rearrange the trip and go with Nick.

And so it was agreed that he should book passage for me. Had I been able to look into the future and see what was to befall in the Kingdom of Bharbazonia, and that Nick would never come back with me, I might not have taken my decision so lightly, nor have looked forward to the trip with so much pleasure.

And here is where the story _really_ begins.

*CHAPTER III*

*OFF FOR BHARBAZONIA!*

See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath! He that but fears the thing he would not know, Hath, by instinct, knowledge from another's eyes, That what he feared is chanced. --_Shakespeare: Henry IV._

When the big ocean liner swung clear of her dock the following Tuesday under the propelling influence of a pair of optimistic tugs which, undaunted by her huge bulk and their diminutive size, dragged her slowly into the current of the Hudson River, and set her face toward Europe, Nick and I were leaning over the guard rail watching the sea of upturned faces on the dock and the mass of waving handkerchiefs.

My preparations for the voyage had been quickly made. After expressing my steamer trunk to the boat, writing a few letters and turning my practice over to my hospital colleague, I was at liberty to accompany Nick in his swift trips about the city while he transacted the business which brought him to Philadelphia.

He first visited the Russian consul; then he held a long talk with a white-bearded black-robed priest of the Greek Church and an Armenian shoemaker in the Lombard Street district. Everywhere he was received with considerable show of respect, and I began to suspect that his early education in the languages had not been entirely a matter of taste or of chance.

During all this time I had no glimpse of General Palmora in Philadelphia, and he was not on board when we drove on the dock in Nicholas' automobile, having made the trip from home in it. Nick intended to take his car with him.

"It will be the first one they ever saw in Bharbazonia," he laughed, and, when I suggested that it might be cheaper to buy a car in Europe and so avoid the duties, he said that automobiles were unknown at the place where we would disembark from the General's yacht and that there would be no duties.

"Looks as if I had fallen in with a band of smugglers," I said banteringly.

"Worse, oh, much worse," he replied in the same spirit.

On the second night out General Palmora made his appearance on deck, and Nick introduced him. He paid me the compliment of saying that he had often heard Nicholas speak of his chum, Dale Wharton; and tried to communicate with me in several languages, much to Nick's amusement.

"Try English, General," he suggested. "Dale is an American and probably knows only one language.

"You mustn't forget my French," I reminded him.

"Why, of course," replied the General, resuming his beautiful London drawl, which revealed the source of his English education, "how stupid of me. I should have known as much."

But the probability that he was trying to determine what language to use with Nick in my presence, did not escape me.

"This is not the first time I have had the pleasure of seeing you, General," I reminded him, opening the conversation after we were comfortably seated in our steamer chairs, protected from the wind by our rugs, "I was present with Fremsted the night you called at my house to see him."

"Ah, indeed? I do not remember you. I must apologize for my seeming rudeness in thus interrupting you, but the meeting with Nicholas was of great importance. I could think of nothing else."

"I presume Nicholas would never have attended the coronation if you had not urged him. He tells me in that event his estates might have been confiscated."

"Although such is the law in Bharbazonia," said the General laughing, and regarding Nick with affection, "I do not believe it would have been enforced in his case. Nicholas has friends at court who are powerful."

"Then why drag me away from the work of the Order?" exclaimed Nick with so much sudden heat that even the General was astonished.

"Gently, gently, my son," he answered in a conciliating tone, "I wanted you in Bharbazonia because I fear that we will have need for you. The 'Red Fox of Dhalmatia' was never known to run straight, and all may not be right with the succession."

"You mean that you suspect some trick may be attempted in connection with Prince Raoul, who is to be king?" I asked, eager for news of this strange country.

"It is one of his hobbies, Dale," said Nick. "You will soon find that his suspicions have not a leg to stand upon."

"It is true, Dr. Wharton," said the old man sadly; "I have only the vaguest ideas on the subject, although I have been watching and waiting, and, I might add, hoping, these past twenty years. The boy Raoul I know to be a capable youth. Although he is but twenty-two, he takes an interest in the work of the Order, which his father the 'Red Fox' never did. For that I like the boy. It argues well for his independence of thought. But, because he is the son of his father, I--cordially dislike him."

"Yes, General," I said, "but what are your suspicions?"

"If you will bear with me, young man, I will tell you the story. It goes back to the time when the Prince was born. Nick was then a lad of eleven or twelve and he was not interested in affairs of state. It was the year I believe that his father, acting on my advice, sent him to school in St. Petersburg. We were then only nine years away from the consummation of the Treaty of Berlin by which Bulgaria, Eastern Roumelia, Thessaly and Bharbazonia achieved independence, protected by the Powers. Now in Bharbazonia, as in many Eastern countries, the succession to the throne falls only upon the first male child of the ruler. Oloff Gregory, the king, even then an old man, had no son, which grieved him much, for he feared the throne must go away from his immediate family. His only child was his daughter Teskla.

"On the other hand his younger brother, the Red Fox of Dhalmatia, was more than pleased with the condition of affairs. He knew that, if he should have a son, the boy would reign in Bharbazonia, not because of any rights of succession, but because there was no other. Although, he, too, was no longer young, the 'Red Fox' took unto himself a young wife and it was soon noised abroad that the stork was expected to visit his castle."

The point which the General made of the male succession in Bharbazonia did not strike me as unusual, because I recalled that in England during Queen Victoria's reign, her uncle, the Duke of Cumberland, was made King of Hanover by virtue of the law which excluded females from that throne.

Before continuing his story Palmora lit his cigar with a wind match, and, turning to me, said:

"I trust you will pardon the length of my tale. I do not wish to bore you."

"Please go on, General, I am much interested," I hastened to assure him.

"In our country, Dr. Wharton, it is still the custom to notify the peasantry of the birth of a castle child by ringing the tower bell, and, in the event of a male, to proclaim the sex by five strokes of the tongue, and in the event of a female by seven. The news is then carried by word of mouth and so spreads over the country.

"On the night the stork brought its precious burden to Dhalmatia I was playing chess, if I remember correctly, with my great friend, Nicholas' father, in his library, when we heard the brass bell of Dhalmatia give voice. With the fate of even more than the future king in the balance, we forgot our game in our intense interest, counting the strokes.

"'One; two; three; four; five; six--'tis a girl,' said Nick's father, much relieved, for he shared my dislike for the 'Red Fox,' and was pleased that the succession would not go to Dhalmatia. There were other reasons why we were delighted with the failure of the 'Red Fox's' hopes, but they were locked in our breasts by the events which followed. Scarcely had the bell completed its toll of seven, when to our astonishment it began again.

"'One; two; three; four; _five_,' we both counted aloud, looking into each other's eyes over the table between.

"'_Five_,' we shouted, springing to our feet and scattering the chessmen broadcast.

"'A boy at Dhalmatia?' I cried, scarcely believing my ears.

"'Is he playing with us?' said my friend. 'By the first ring he tells us it is a girl, and then he changes his mind and it is a boy?'

"'Let us solve this mystery at once,' I suggested.

"We took our lantern from the hooks and saddled our horses. It was about nine of the clock when the bell began ringing and I warrant it was not more than fifteen minutes later when we drew rein in front of Dhalmatia. It was as dark as the pit and not a light was shining from the windows, which on such a festive occasion should have been illuminated. From the direction of the servants' quarters came the sound of sobbing which grated horribly upon our ears.

"We pounded upon the heavy oak door with the hilts of our swords but only the echoes answered us; the weeping continued. Presently the door swung back a little way, slowly and it seemed to me cautiously, and the 'Fox' himself stood in the narrow opening, muffled to the eyes in his long black cloak. When he saw who his visitors were, he was not pleased and made as if to shut the door in our faces, but we placed our shoulders against it, defeating his purpose.

"'Well?' he growled ungraciously.

"'The bell; the bell!' cried Nicholas' father with some anger, out of breath with hard riding, 'what means this curious ringing of the tower bell?'

"'Curious?' he sneered; 'curious? I like not your words, Framkor. There is nothing unusual about it that I can discover.'

"'Did not you announce the birth of a daughter?'

"'The bell rang seven times,' returned the Fox.

"'Then Bharbazonia is without an heir in your house?'

"'Not so, my kind and most considerate neighbour,' he replied sarcastically, 'you must still wait a little longer. Did you not hear the bell ring also five times?'

"'The meaning! The meaning!' we both exclaimed.

"'It is perfectly clear, noble sirs,' he said. 'The house of Dhalmatia has been honoured this night with the advent of both a daughter and a son.'

"'Twins!' we cried, looking at each other and wondering why we had not thought of it before. We saw that we had been hoping against hope, and our worst fears were realized. I suppose our chagrin showed in our faces for the 'Red Fox' seemed to enjoy our discomfiture. It was not in our hearts to congratulate the old rogue. We could not lie for the sake of an empty courtesy. We mounted our horses and rode away with the discordant chuckle of the lord of Dhalmatia ringing in our ears."

"Nothing very suspicious in all that," drawled Nick, flicking his cigarette into the sea. He had probably heard the story so often that he had no interest in it.

"If I could only make you understand," sighed the General.

"But why were the servants crying?" I asked.

"That came out the next day," continued the old man, glad at least to find one willing listener; "it seems that the old midwife, who was the only person with the mother when the children were born, had fallen from the tower in some strange way when she was tugging at the bell rope to announce the birth of the girl. Her neck was broken."

"Who then rang the bell the second time?"

"The Red Fox."

"How great was the interval between the ringing?"

"There was scarcely a pause; it was almost immediate."

"Then the 'Red Fox' must have been very near the nurse in the tower."

"He must have been very near."