Books: The Puppet Crown
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Harold MacGrath >> The Puppet Crown
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"And where will you go? Certainly not to Osia, since you traded
it for this throne. It was understood, when you assumed the
reign, that the finances of the kingdom would remain
unimpeachable. Bankrupt, the confederation will be forced to
disavow you. They will be compelled to restore the throne to
your enemy, who, believe me, is most anxious to become your
creditor.
"This is an independent state,--conditionally. "The
confederation have formed themselves into a protectorate. Why? I
can only guess. One or more of them covet these beautiful lands.
What are ten years to Josef, when a crown is the goal? Your
revenues are slowly to decline, there will be internal troubles
to eat up what money you have in the treasury. O, it is a plot
so fine, so swiftly conceived, so cunningly devised that I would
I were twenty years younger, to fight it with you! But I am old.
My days for acting are past. I can only advise. He was sure of
his quarry, this Josef whose hair is of many colors. Had you
applied to the money syndicates of Europe, the banks of England,
France, Germany, or Austria, your true sponsor, the result would
always be the same: your ruin. Covertly I warned you not to sign;
you laughed and signed. A trap was there, your own hand opened
it. How they must have laughed at you! If you attempt to
repudiate your signature the Diet has power to overrule you.
"Truly, the shade of Macchiavelli masks in the garb of your
cousin. I admire the man's genius. This is his throne by right
of inheritance. I do not blame him. Only, I wish to save you. If
you were alone, why, I do not say that I should trouble myself,
for you yourself would not be troubled. But I have grown to love
that child of yours. It is all for her. Do you now understand
why I make the request? It appears Quixotic? Not at all. Put my
money in jeopardy? Not while the kingdom exists. If you can not
pay back, your kingdom will. Perhaps you ask what is the
difference, whether I or the duke becomes your creditor? This:
in ten years I shall be happy to renew the loan. In ten years,
if I am gone, there will be my son. You wonder why I do this. I
repeat it is for your daughter. And perhaps," with a dry smile,
"it is because I have no love for Josef."
"I will defeat him!" cried the king, a fire at last shining in
his eyes.
"You will not."
"I will appeal to the confederation and inform them of the plot."
"The resource of a child! They would laugh at you for your pains.
For they are too proud of their prowess in statecraft to
tolerate a suspicion that your cousin is a cleverer man than all
of them put together. There remains only one thing for you to do."
"And what is that?" wearily.
"Accept my friendship at its true value."
The king made no reply. He set his elbows on the arms of the
rustic seat, interlaced his fingers and rested his chin on them,
while his booted legs slid out before him. His meditation
lengthened into several minutes. The diplomat evinced no sign of
impatience.
"Come with me," said the king, rising quickly. "I will no longer
dream. I will act. Come."
The diplomat nodded approvingly; and together they marched
toward the palace. The bulldog trotted on behind, his pink
tongue lolling out of his black mouth, a white tusk or two
gleaming on each side. The Lieutenant of the cuirassiers saluted
as they passed him, and, when they had gone some distance, swung
in behind. He observed with some concern that his Majesty was
much agitated.
The business of the kingdom, save that performed in the Diet,
was accomplished in the east wing of the palace; the king's
apartments, aside from the state rooms, occupied the west wing.
It was to the business section that the king conducted the
diplomat. In the chamber of finance its minister was found busy
at his desk. He glanced up casually, but gave an ejaculation of
surprise when he perceived who his visitors were.
"O, your Majesty!" he cried, bobbing up and running out his
chair. "Good afternoon, your Excellency," to the Englishman,
adjusting his gold-rimmed glasses, through which his eyes shone
pale and cold.
The diplomat bowed. The little man reminded him of M. Thiers,
that effervescence of soda tinctured with the bitterness of iron.
He understood the distrust which Count von Wallenstein
entertained for him, but he was not distrustful of the count.
Distrust implies uncertainty, and the Englishman was not the
least uncertain as to his conception of this gentleman of
finance.
There were few men whom the count could not interpret; one stood
before him. He could not comprehend why England had sent so
astute a diplomat and politician to a third-rate kingdom. Of
that which we can not understand we are suspicious, and the
guilty are distrustful. Neither the minister of police nor his
subordinates could fathom the purpose of this calm, dignified
old man with the difficult English name.
"Count," began the king, pleasantly, "his Excellency here has
made a peculiar request."
"And what might that be, Sire?"
"He offers to purchase the entire number of certificates issued
to-day for our loan."
"Five millions of crowns?" The minister's astonishment was so
genuine that in jerking back his head his glasses slipped from
his nose and dangled on the string.
The Englishman bowed again, the wrinkle of a smile on his face.
"I would not believe him serious at first, count," said the king,
laughing easily, "but he assured me that he is. What can be
done about it?"
"O, your Majesty," cried the minister, excitedly, "it would not
be politic. And then the measure--"
"Is it possible that I have misconstrued its import?" the
diplomat interposed with a fine air of surprise.
"You are familiar--" began the count, hesitatingly.
"Perfectly; that is, I believe so."
"But England--"
"Has nothing whatever to do with the matter. Something greater,
which goes by the name of self-interest."
"Ah," said the count, his wrinkles relaxing; "then it is on your
own responsibility?"
"Precisely."
"But five millions of crowns--two hundred and fifty thousand
pounds!" The minister could not compose himself. "This is a
vast sum of money. We expected not an individual, but a
syndicate, to accept our securities, to become debtors to the
various banks on the continent. But a personal affair! Five
millions of crowns! The possibilities of your wealth overwhelm
me."
The Englishman smiled. "I dare say I have more than my share of
this world's goods. I can give you a check for the amount on the
bank of England."
"Your Majesty's lamented predecessor--"
"Is dead," said the king gently. He had no desire to hear the
minister recount that ruler's virtues. "Peace to his ashes."
"Five millions of crowns!" The minister had lost his equipoise
in the face of the Englishman's great riches, of which hitherto
he had held some doubts. Suddenly a vivid thought entered his
confused brain. The paper cutter in his hand trembled. In the
breathing space allowed him he began to calculate rapidly. The
king and the diplomat had been in the garden; something had
passed between them. What? The paper cutter slowly ceased its
uneven movements. The count calmly placed it behind the inkwells.
. . . . The Englishman knew. The glitter of gold gave way to
the thought of the peril. A chasm yawned at his feet. But he was
an old soldier in the game of words and cross-purposes.
"We should be happy to accord you the privilege of becoming the
kingdom's creditor," he said, smiling at the diplomat, whom
nothing had escaped. "I am afraid, however, that your request
has been submitted too late. At ten o'clock this morning the
transfer of the certificates would have been a simple matter.
There are twenty in all; it may not be too late to secure some
of them." He looked tranquilly from the Englishman to the king.
The smiling mask fell from the king's face; he felt that he was
lost. He tried to catch his friend's eye, but the diplomat was
deeply interested in the console of the fireplace.
"They seem to be at a premium," the Englishman said, "which
speaks well for the prosperity of the country. I am sorry to
have troubled you."
"It would have been a pleasure indeed," replied the count. He
stood secure within his fortress, so secure that he would have
liked to laugh.
"It is too bad," said the king, pulling his thoughts together.
"Your Majesty is giving the matter too much importance," said
the diplomat. "It was merely a whim. I shall have the pleasure
and honor of presenting my successor this evening."
The count bent low, while the king nodded absently. He was
thinking that a penful of ink, carelessly trailed over a sheet
of paper, had lost him his throne. He was about to draw the arm
of the diplomat through his own, when his step was arrested by
the entrance of a messenger who presented a letter to the
minister of finance.
"With your Majesty's permission," he said, tearing open the
envelope. As he read the contents, his shoulders sank to their
habitual stoop and benignity once more shone in the place of
alertness. "Decidedly, fate is not with your Excellency to-day.
M. Jacobi writes me that four millions have already been
disposed of to M. Everard & Co., English bankers in the
Konigstrasse, who are representing a French firm in this
particular instance. I am very sorry."
"It is of no moment now," replied the Englishman indifferently.
The adverb which concluded this declaration caught the keen ear
of the minister, who grew tall again. What would he not have
given to read the subtle brain of his opponent, for opponent he
knew him to be! His intense scrutiny was blocked by a pair of
most innocent eyes.
"Well," said the king impatiently, "let us be gone, my friend.
The talk of money always leaves a copperish taste on my tongue."
Arm in arm they passed from the chamber. When the door closed
behind them, the minister of finance drew his handkerchief
across his brow.
"Everard & Co.," mused the Englishman aloud. "Was it not indeed
a stroke for your cousin to select them as his agents? You will
in truth be accused of selling out to the English. But there is
a coincidence in all this."
"I am lost!" said the king.
"On the contrary, you are saved. Everard & Co. are my bankers
and attorneys; in fact, I own an interest in the firm."
"What is this you tell me?" cried the king.
"Sire, we English have a peculiar trait; it is asking for
something after we have taken it. The human countenance is a
fine picture book. I should like to read that belonging to your
cousin Josef, providing I could read unobserved."
"My friend!" said the king.
"Say nothing. Here is the bulldog; take him to her Royal
Highness with my compliments. There is no truer friend than an
animal of his breed. He is steadfast in his love, for he makes
but few friends; he is a good companion, for he is
undemonstrative; he can read and draw inferences, and your
enemies will be his. I shall bid you good afternoon. God be with
your Majesty."
"Ah, to lose you now!" said, the king, a heaviness in his heart
such as presentiment brings.
The diplomat turned and went down the grand corridor. The
bulldog tugged at his chain. Animals are gifted with prescience.
He knew that his master had passed forever out of his life.
Presently he heard the voice of the princess calling; and the
glamour of royalty encompassed him,--something a human finds
hard to resist, and he was only a dog.
Meanwhile another messenger had entered the chamber of finance
and had gone. On the minister's desk lay a crumpled sheet of
paper on which was written:
"Treason and treachery! It has at this moment been ascertained
that, while pretending to be our agents in securing the consols,
M. Everard & Co. now refuse to deliver them into the custody of
Baron von Rumpf, as agreed, and further, that M. Everard & Co.
are bankers and attorneys to his Excellency the British minister.
He must not leave this city with those consols."
With his eyes riveted on these words, the minister of finance,
huddled in his chair, had fallen into a profound study.
There were terrible times in the house of Josef that night.
CHAPTER III
AN EPISODE TEN YEARS AFTER
One fine September morning in a year the date of which is of no
particular importance, a man stepped out of a second-class
carriage on to the canopied platform of the railway terminus in
the ancient and picturesque city of Bleiberg. He yawned, shook
himself, and stretched his arms and legs, relieved to find that
the tedious journey from Vienna had not cramped those appendages
beyond recovery.
He stood some inches above the average height, and was built up
in a manner that suggested the handiwork of a British drill-
master, his figure being both muscular and symmetrical. Besides,
there was on his skin that rich brown shadow which is the result
only of the forces of the sun and wind, a life in the open air.
This color gave peculiar emphasis to the yellow hair and
mustache. His face was not handsome, if one accept the Greek
profile as a model of manly beauty, but it was cleanly and
boldly cut, healthful, strong and purposeful, based on
determined jaws and a chin which would have been obstinate but
for the presence of a kindly mouth.
A guard deposited at his feet a new hatbox, a battered traveling
bag and two gun cases which also gave evidence of rough usage.
The luggage was literally covered with mutilated square and
oblong slips of paper of many colors, on which were printed the
advertisements of far-sighted hotel keepers all the way from
Bombay to London and half-way back across the continent.
There was nothing to be seen, however, indicative of the
traveler's name. He surveyed his surroundings with lively
interest shining in his gray eyes, one of which peered through a
monocle encircled by a thin rim of tortoise shell. He watched
the fussy customs officials, who, by some strange mischance,
overlooked his belongings. Finally he made an impatient gesture.
"Find me a cab," he said to the attentive guard, who, with an
eye to the main chance, had waved off the approach of a station
porter. "If the inspectors are in no hurry, I am."
"At once, my lord;" and the guard, as he stooped and lifted the
luggage, did not see the start which this appellation caused the
stranger to make, but who, after a moment, was convinced that
the guard had given him the title merely out of politeness. The
guard placed the traps inside of one of the many vehicles
stationed at the street exit of the terminus. He was an
intelligent and deductive servant.
The traveler was some noted English lord who had come to
Bleiberg to shoot the famed golden pheasant, and had secured a
second-class compartment in order to demonstrate his incognito.
Persons who traveled second-class usually did so to save money;
yet this tall Englishman, since the train departed from Vienna,
had almost doubled in gratuities the sum paid for his ticket.
The guard stood respectfully at the door of the cab, doffed his
cap, into which a memento was dropped, and went along about his
business.
The Englishman slammed the door, the jehu cracked his whip, and
a moment later the hoarse breathings of the motionless engines
became lost in the sharper noises of the city carts. The unknown
leaned against the faded cushions, curled his mustache, and
smiled as if well satisfied with events. It is quite certain
that his sense of ease and security would have been somewhat
disturbed had he known that another cab was close on the track
of his, and that its occupant, an officer of the city
gendarmerie, alternately smiled and frowned as one does who
floats between conviction and uncertainty. At length the two
vehicles turned into the Konigstrasse, the principal
thoroughfare of the capital, and here the Englishman's cab came
to a stand. The jehu climbed down and opened the door.
"Did Herr say the Continental?" he asked.
"No; the Grand."
The driver shrugged, remounted his box, and drove on. The Grand
Hotel was clean enough and respectable, but that was all that
could be said in its favor. He wondered if the Englishman would
haggle over the fare. Englishmen generally did. He was agreeably
disappointed, however, when, on arriving at the mean hostelry,
his passenger plunged a hand into a pocket and produced three
Franz-Josef florins.
"You may have these," he said, "for the trouble of having them
exchanged into crowns."
As he whipped up, the philosophical cabman mused that these
tourists were beyond the pale of his understanding. With a
pocket full of money, and to put up at the Grand! Why not the
Continental, which lay close to the Werter See, the palaces, the
royal and public gardens? It was at the Continental that the
fine ladies and gentlemen from Vienna, and Innsbruck, and Munich,
and Belgrade, resided during the autumn months. But the Grand--
ach! it was in the heart of the shops and markets, and within a
stone's throw of that gloomy pile of granite designated in the
various guide books as the University of Bleiberg.
The Englishman had some difficulty in finding a pen that would
write, and the ink was oily, and the guest-book was not at the
proper angle. At last he managed to form the letters of his name,
which was John Hamilton. After some deliberation, he followed
this with "England." The proprietor, who acted as his own clerk,
drew the book toward him, and after some time, deciphered the
cabalistic signs.
"Ah, Herr John Hamilton of England; is that right?"
"Yes; I am here for a few days' shooting. Can you find me a man
to act as guide?"
"This very morning, Herr."
"Thanks."
Then he proceeded up the stairs to the room assigned to him. The
smell of garlic which pervaded the air caused him to make a
grimace. Once alone in the room, he looked about. There was
neither soap nor towel, but there was a card which stated that
the same could be purchased at the office. He laughed. A pitcher
of water and a bowl stood on a small table, which, by the
presence of a mirror (that could not in truth reflect anything
but light and darkness), served as a dresser. These he used to
good advantage, drying his face and hands on the white
counterpane of the bed, and laughing quietly as he did so. Next
he lit a pipe, whose capacity for tobacco was rather less than
that of a lady's thimble, sat in a chair by the window, smoked
quietly, and gazed down on the busy street.
It was yet early in the morning; sellers of vegetables, men and
women peasants, with bare legs and wooden shoes, driving shaggy
Servian ponies attached to low, cumbersome carts, passed and
repassed, to and from the markets. A gendarme, leaning the
weight of his shoulder on the guard of a police saber, rested
against the corner of a wine shop across the way. Students,
wearing squat caps with vizors, sauntered indolently along,
twirling canes and ogling all who wore petticoats. Occasionally
the bright uniform of a royal cuirassier flashed by; and the
Englishman would lean over the sill and gaze after him, nodding
his head in approval whenever the cuirassier sat his horse well.
In the meantime the gendarme, who followed him from the station,
had entered the hotel, hastily glanced at the freshly written
name, and made off toward the palace.
"Well, here we are," mused the Englishman, pressing his thumb
into the bowl of his pipe. "The affair promises some excitement.
To-morrow will be the sixth; on the twentieth it will be a
closed incident, as the diplomats would say. I don't know what
brought me here so far ahead of time. I suppose I must look out
for a crack on the head from some one I don't know, but who
knows me so deuced well that he has hunted me in India and
England, first with fine bribes, then with threats." He glanced
over his shoulder in the direction of the gun cases. "It was a
capital idea, otherwise a certain ubiquitous customs official,
who lies in wait for the unwary at the frontier, would now be an
inmate of a hospital. To have lived thirty-five years, and to
have ground out thirteen of them in her Majesty's, is to have
acquired a certain disdain for danger, even when it is masked. I
am curious to see how far these threats will go. It will take a
clever man to trap me. The incognito is a fort. By the way, I
wonder how the inspectors at the station came to overlook my
traps? Strange, considering what I have gone through."
At this moment the knuckles of a hand beat against the door.
"Come in!" answered the Englishman, wheeling his chair, but
making no effort to rise. "Come in!"
The door swung in, and there entered a short, spectacled man in
dark gray clothes which fairly bristled with brass buttons. He
was the chief inspector of customs. He bowed.
The Englishman, consternation widening his eyes, lowered his
pipe.
"Monsieur Hamilton's pardon," the inspector began, speaking in
French, "but with your permission I shall inspect your luggage
and glance at your passports." He bowed again.
"Now do you know, mon ami," replied the Englishman, "that
Monsieur Hamilton will not permit you to gaze even into yonder
washbowl?" He rose lazily.
"But, Monsieur," cried the astonished official, to whom non-
complaisance in the matter of inspection was unprecedented, "you
certainly will not put any obstacle in the path of my duty!"
"Your duty, Monsieur the Spectacles, is to inspect at the
station. There your assistants refused to award me their
attention. You are trespassing."
"Monsieur forgets," sternly; "it is the law. Is it possible that
I shall be forced to call in the gendarmes to assist me? This is
extraordinary!"
"I dare say it is, on your part," admitted the Englishman,
polishing the bowl of his pipe against the side of his nose.
"You had best go at once. If you do not, I shall take you by the
nape of your Bleibergian neck and kick you down the stairs. I
have every assurance of my privileges. The law here, unless it
has changed within the past hour, requires inspection at the
frontier, and at the capital; but your jurisdiction does not
extend beyond the stations. Bon jour, Monsieur the Spectacles;
bon jour!"
"O, Monsieur!"
"Good day!"
"Monsieur, it is my duty; I must!"
"Good day! How will you go, by the stairs or by the window? I--
but wait!" an idea coming to him which caused him to reflect on
the possible outcome of violence done to a government official,
who, perhaps, was discharging his peculiar duty at the orders of
superiors. He walked swiftly to the door and slid the bolt, to
the terror of the inspector, on whose brow drops of perspiration
began to gather. "Now," opening the hat box and taking out a
silk hat, "this is a hat, purchased in Paris at Cook's. There is
nothing in the lining but felt. Look into the box; nothing. Take
out your book and follow me closely," he continued, dividing the
traveling bag into halves, and he began to enumerate the
contents.
"But, Monsieur!" remonstrated the inspector, who did not enjoy
this infringement of his prerogatives; his was the part to
overhaul. "This is--"
"Be still and follow me," and the Englishman went on with the
inventory. "There!" when he had done, "not a dutiable thing
except this German-Scotch whisky, and that is so bad that I give
it to you rather than pay duty. What next? My passports? Here
they are, absolutely flawless, vised by the authorities in
Vienna."
The slips crackled in the fluttering fingers of the inspector.
"They are as you say, Monsieur," he said, returning the permits.
Then he added timidly, "And the gun cases?"
"The gun cases!" The pipe spilled its coal to the floor. "The
gun cases!"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"And why do you wish to look into them?" with agitation.
"Smugglers sometimes fill them with cigars."
"Ah!" The Englishman selected two loaded shells, drew a gun from
the case, threw up the breech and rammed in the shells. Then he
extended the weapon to within an inch of the terrified
inspector's nose. "Now, Monsieur the Spectacles, look in there
and tell me what you see."
The fellow sank half-fainting into a chair. "Mon Dieu, Monsieur,
would you kill me who have a family?"
"What's a customs inspector, more or less?" asked the terrible
islander, laughing. "I advise you not to ask me to let you look
into the other gun, out of consideration for your family. It has
hair triggers, and my fingers tremble."
"Monsieur, Monsieur, you do wrong to trifle with the law. I
shall be obliged to report you. You will be arrested."
"Nothing of the kind," was the retort. "I have only to inform
the British minister how remiss you were in your obligations. I
should go free, whereas you would be discharged. But what I
demand to know is, what the devil is the meaning of this farce."
"I am simply obeying orders," answered the inspector, wiping his
forehead. "It is not a farce, as Monsieur will find." Then, as
if to excuse this implied threat: "Will Monsieur please point
the gun the other way?"
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