CHAPTER EIGHT
JUST prior to the hour of the matutinal sausage in Marken, on the following morning, those who strolled sleepily out into the narrow streets and observed that the sun had been up several hours, found a topic for conversation. Notices had been posted in the night-time on the doorways of churches, lamp posts, and pillar boxes, and sometimes over the billboards where gay posters advised people to use Schmitt's soap; to feed their dogs on torox, or to drink that most soothing of all liqueurs, Ron Bacardi. Languidly these were read and a mild flutter ensued that caused many to forget—almost to forget—that the sausage hour was due.
The notices were printed in plain white, with plain type, and plainly stated that His Gracious and Benign Majesty, Karl II, King of Marken, by Divine Right, had, in the interests of the great kingdom, seen fit to exercise his august prerogative of forming a new ministry, in the confident belief that his subjects and the welfare of the state would thereby be benefited, Baron Matilda, etc., etc., Provarsk was now the chancellor of the realm, succeeding Baron, etc., etc., Von Glutz.
"Ha!" said those who read, gleefully. "The old pouter pigeon has got his wings clipped!" Or, "Baron Provarsk? What does this mean? Continually he has tried to make us believe that King Karl is a blunderer. Now he sides with the king and becomes chancellor. Ayya! Ahem! We shall see what kind of a chancellor this high and mighty baron makes!"
Baron Von Glutz now Minister of War!
At that they laughed a little and expressed pity for the few score men who formed the king's standing army. They hoped the new minister would not alter the uniforms, because those new scarlet tunics and white trousers, pricked out with profuse gold braidings, were very effective.
Captain Philidor Paulo to be Minister of the Treasury.
"Well! Well! Well! That's something. The common people are at last beginning to be recognised!" They were flattered. They remembered, some of them, what a merry lad he was when his widowed mother conducted the charcuterie in the Alley of the Capuchins. Pity she had not lived to see her son a cabinet minister! What a lot of money he would have to count. He always was good at counting, stoutly asserted some of the old dames who had watched his growth.
They discussed it vigorously while eating. They had placid disputes about it after the shops opened; but they forgot it by bed-time. Affairs couldn't be worse than they had been, they decided, with that remarkable phlegm which has ever been Marken's most distinguishing trait, and let it go at that.
On the following day the shops had nice pictures of the new chancellor for sale, all of which had been left by a giant, "on commission," who was voted a queer sort of chap, inasmuch as sometimes he failed to hear, or at least declined to answer. This gave them cause for gossip, it being an innovation to thus advertise the face of the chancellor. They did not know that a more mystified person was the chancellor himself, who speculated vainly on what the fertile-brained King's Remembrancer could have "up his sleeve" in this latest divertissement, and not in the least suspecting that it was for the purpose of making his features so widely known that he could never run away.
The Court Gazette, that highly aloof official organ whose smallest paragraph was read with awe, proved the next distraction. It intimated that great changes were about to take place in the administration of the kingdom, all of which would tend to the aggrandisement of Marken, and would probably bring it into the rank of First Powers of the world; whatever that might be. Elderly gentlemen wagged their heads sagely, and younger ones unconsciously swelled their chests as duly becomes citizens of one of the "Great Powers." The cautious ones hoped that Marken was not going to plunge the world into a war of conquest, and a village oracle who had once seen the Adriatic sea and declared that it was impossible to see across it because there was so much water, and who had for twenty years been discredited therefor as a notorious liar, arose again to prominence and sagely declared that he believed, after long deliberation, that Marken was about to have a navy of its own.
Then, after a week's excited argument, there appeared that memorable state announcement that it was the duty of all to support the state and that at the places named, on the dates named, all able-bodied citizens of both sexes would appear and register themselves; that failure to do so would be punished by fines, imprisonment, confiscation of property and various other humiliations. Also, God save the King! And this manifesto was signed by the new chancellor! This was carrying it too far! The idea of expecting people to do something for the state! Why, who ever heard of such a thing? Of course anything done for the state was wasted time. Didn't they pay taxes? Wasn't that enough? Things were coming to a pretty pass. Anyway, two weeks must elapse before the new conscription measures came effective, and this, they decided, was ample time to consider so startling an innovation.
And innovation had been made in the palace itself, unknown to the placid, indolent citizens of the quaint old city that flowed in haphazard angles below the palace hill. The American, after effecting the organisation of the new cabinet, was the cause.
"Thank you for the invitation to make your palace my home, sir," he said to the king on His Majesty's formal re-entry into his ancestral home.
The king, astonished, inasmuch as he had never conceived, or voiced, any such invitation, answered with a whimsical smile not too unlike Kent's own, "Oh, it's nothing! Nothing at all, Mr. Kent. It was thoughtful of me, wasn't it?"
"Very," replied the new guest. "It was very kind of you, also, to suggest that inasmuch as a King's Remembrancer must be a mighty busy man, because a king has so much to think about, that I should select such rooms of the palace as would serve for business offices."
Thus he seized a reception room, overlooking the gardens, and a smaller room that was metamorphosed into his private office, and in a third a staff of bookkeepers was installed.
"It looks," said the king to Paulo, whilst making a surreptitious visit, "like a bank. What on earth can so many bookkeepers do?""Opening a new set of government books, Sire, under the direction of a London accountant to whom Mr. Kent telegraphed."
The king looked helpless and puzzled and said, "Weren't the old ones—Ummh!"
"Mr. Kent said all the old books were mere waste. Said he would put the accounts of Marken in such shape that he could tell each night exactly where the kingdom stood, or know the reason why."
"Incredible!" exclaimed the king. "No one ever heard of such a thing."
"That is what Baron Von Glutz told Mr. Kent."
The king grinned and his eyes lighted as he asked what Mr. Kent had replied.
"Mr. Kent asked the baron if he had ever heard that in America there were now large and thriving orchards of cheese trees, and when the baron answered that he had not, Mr. Kent said, 'There you are! You see there's a lot of things you never heard of. Every child in America knows as well about the cheese tree as every big corporation knows about the watermelon. Whenever possible, every big board of directors in America assembles in solemn conclave and cuts one."
The king looked as if he almost believed it; but did not disclose ignorance, having been carefully instructed on this point when a crown prince.
"Mr. Kent has retained one of the expert accountants sent him from London as his private secretary," Paulo added, as a further note of interest "He speaks our tongue. Also, Ivan has brought all their personal belongings from Steinweg. Mr. Kent has also bought a strange sort of clock arrangement that he compels the chancellor and the Minister of War to punch in a curious fashion whenever they enter or leave their offices. Mr. Kent said he was thinking of getting one for Your Majesty. This curious device registers the time when one comes in or goes out, so that by referring to it, Mr. Kent says he can tell whether they are doing a full day's work."
His Majesty decided that it was time for him to retire to his own part of the palace. Mr. Kent seemed to be doing quite a lot of things. Among others, His Majesty learned a few days later, was the reorganisation of the working plant of the mining concession, effected by a distinguished mining engineer who had not only arrived but had telegraphed for new machinery that was to be installed. Also local engineers had been sent to make surveys and plans for electric power plants at several places where hitherto some noble waterfalls had been permitted to flow as nature made them, untrammelled by harness. Quarries owned and long neglected by the crown were being prepared for reopening on large scales, and the king was further surprised when it was publicly announced that His Majesty, Karl II, was heading a scheme for the utilisation of some mineral springs, and would from state funds establish a spa that it was hoped would be second to none in Europe, where gout, rheumatism, Bright's disease and many other ailments would be promptly alleviated, or cured, under the supervision of famous specialists. The king wasn't sure that he liked it. The best he could hope for was that Kent would not have a picture of the king and His Majesty's personal guarantee on every bottle of water exported. And in the meantime, Mr. Kent, cause of all the disturbance, was happier than he had ever been in his life. He was the first in his office in the morning, and the last to leave at night. The dignity of the staid old palace was being rudely shaken by constant streams of those who came on business, were received by the square-jawed man who always explained that he was merely the king's mouthpiece appointed to transact whatever was to be done in this particular case, etc., etc., and
"Sit down! Did you bring those plans? Well, skip all that! What's it going to cost? That's too much. Ought to be shaved by twenty per cent. Take those estimates back and go over them again. No use in your trying to fool the king, is there? You fellows around here have got to wake up. The king has been studying over this affair, and knows what it ought to cost just about as well as you do. Bring the new figures around to-morrow at seven minutes past three o'clock. Good day!"
Like a Gatling gun that voice snapped and boomed all day long, and a close observer might have discovered that in the cafes of Marken by night, and in the Market Place by day, men began to speak of the king with something more than stupefaction, something bordering on fear and respect. "Who would have ever thought it?" they muttered and wagged. "No one ever expected him to do any more than any other king does!" And, "Where on earth would he get workmen for so many enterprises?" Pessimists opined that the king was mad and the kingdom going to the dogs.
The days of the registration passed with good-natured tolerance. It was fairly good sport, the Markenites thought, quite like some foolish festival season. But why was it that when they registered themselves they were also given a physical examination and issued cards of different colours stating that they had been assigned to a certain class? It certainly did indicate that the king was preparing to go to war, and was therefore organising all his resources. The citizens of the toy capital of the toy kingdom were vastly perplexed, but not quite alarmed.
Secretly the new chancellor speculated on what this bold alien expected of him, and suspected that the sole reason why he was compelled to keep office hours was that a watch might be kept over his activities. Secretly the new minister of war fussed and fumed. Secretly the king began to hope for the best, and secretly the Princess Eloise came to the conclusion that there were some characteristics of the redoubtable Mr. Kent that she could not understand. Fight as she would, she had to admit that he threatened to do things, exhibited no slovenliness of mind, and she could not help liking him for that.
And then, on a certain day, the curiosity of every one promised to be satisfied. Again the public announcements appeared, assembling all of classes A, B, C, and F, at certain central points, notably one in the Market Place of Marken, and now there would be but two weeks more of suspense.
CHAPTER NINE
IT was the morning of the day in which the announcements were to be made to the citizens of Marken that they had been conscripted for something far worse than war, namely work. Early in the day, as Kent had foreseen, Marken began to fill not only with those of the classes called, but with members of all other classes. Peasants, chattering volubly, poured into the capital, some on foot, others in carts, and all gaily clad in their best garb. There was an expectant and serious air pervading everything, the people themselves, the quiet old palace, the very trees of the streets and the flowers that lent colour to window sills and tiny patches of open gardens. The American was early at his desk, and was never more methodical and energetic. This he recognised as a crisis. People, he knew, could be asked to go to war and would go cheering; but to ask them to go to work was an entirely different and more serious request. They might rebel. All that foresight could suggest had been done. The standing army, the first and second reserves, had all been called out and posted in various places where trouble might occur, and Baron Von Glutz, faithful to orders and ever willing to do his best, had puffed, and sweated, and bellowed commands that all might be prepared to quell disorder.
Noon was the hour fixed, but already the town was filled. At noon they were to be told the worst!
Kent, referring to the lists on his littered desk, was jotting down figures, with an air of satisfaction, as if to reassure himself that he had made no mistakes in his estimates.
"A and B to the mines," he murmured. "That fixes them up. C men are carpenters and brick and stone layers, and there's enough of them to care for all constructions. And there are enough F men, all machinists, to look after the plants. Yes, that leaves plenty of common labourers for the quarries. Must call them up next."
From the window overlooking the palace gardens came the voice of Ivan: "The chancellor and his friend, the banker Wimplehurst, are walking in the gardens together," he said, and turned to Kent to see the effect of his words.
"By Jove! Is that so? I've been rather bothered about our friend the chancellor in the last few weeks," Kent said. "He's so uncommonly bright that I haven't been able to get a line on him."
He got up and came to the side of the window, caught the curtains in his hand to shield himself from possible observation and looked through the meshes.
"Wonder what in the deuce that rascal has on hand now? It's something. Otherwise he wouldn't have selected the garden for the meeting. No place like a garden or a crowded street to keep from being overheard. He's afraid that walls have ears like an elephant's. And so they have; under my especial provision," he added with grim humour.
He suddenly turned and hastened to his desk, pulled open a drawer and handed a pair of binoculars to Ivan.
"Keep out of sight and tell me what they say," he ordered, after which he returned to his desk and quietly lounged over its corner with folded arms.
Ivan grinned, adjusted the glasses, focussed them at a conveniently thin place in the curtain design and began talking, disjointedly, as if to himself.
"Wish I could open these curtains. They bother me when there's two hundred yards between us. Hard to read the lips unless they turn this way. Ah! They've stopped and I can see them both. Lucky that the banker is smooth-shaven and speaks distinctly."
He paused for a moment as if picking up the thread of conversation that was being unwound across the wide, intervening space.
"It seems that Provarsk has arranged with the banker to get together a certain number of men to create a disturbance when the announcements are made. Provarsk thinks enough fuss can be raised to stop your conscription scheme. The banker doesn't want it to go as far as open revolt. Provarsk laughs. Says what if it does. Banker says that part is up to Provarsk. Provarsk hopes that the centre of unrest and objection being the capital, it will spread out into the country. Says he knows your affairs are critical, and that if you are beaten in this, you'll either have to give up or try something else. Banker's men are to be posted around different spots in the Market Place. Provarsk wants to know how they are to act unitedly. Banker says he will get up close to the stand where the announcement is to be read, then, when he thinks time is right, will get up and give signal. That immediately a riot will start. Says all his men know one another by a red cockade in the left buttonhole. Provarsk wants to know if the banker followed his instructions and confined his efforts to Marken, because he thinks concentration here is important. Banker says yes, all are to be at Market Place. Banker says had to pay men four dollars each in advance. Wants Provarsk to pay him back. Provarsk smoothing banker down with promises. Tells him he's to be Minister of Treasury some day and not too many questions asked. Banker appears satisfied. The baron has an idea"
He was interrupted by Kent, who had arisen, walked behind him and now took the glasses from his hand and said, "Never mind the remainder. I've only got an hour in which to move. Go and get Paulo and bring him back with you on the jump! And, hold on a minute! As you go out to get him, order my car brought around and kept in waiting at the private door. Also, as soon as you've brought Paulo here, don't wait, but skip over to your room and arm yourself, and bring a gun for me. Just as well be prepared. Hurry, Ivan! We've got quite an uncertain job."
After Ivan had rushed from the room, he dawdled back toward his desk, stood above it for a moment, carefully sorted the lists and papers, and then, with hands in trousers' pockets, sat on the corner, swung his leg, and carelessly hummed a tune as if perfectly satisfied with all things. Only his eyes betrayed any excitement, and they danced as happily as those of a boy just starting on some wild adventure. But when Paulo, eager to be of service to this leader whom he trusted and admired, came through the door, he lost no time in beckoning him to his private office where he leaned forward and mumbled hasty instructions, checking them off on his finger-tips, and having them recapitulated to make certain of their intelligent understanding. He was quite gleeful when Paulo ran from the room, calling back, "Leave it to me, Mr. Kent. You can depend on me."
He consulted his watch, saw that it lacked but half an hour of noon, and locked his desk and twirled the knob of his private safe. He clapped his hat on his head, and whistled merrily as he closed the office door after telling his secretary that he would not return until late in the afternoon. He was exactly like any other American business man as he walked alertly to his waiting car, smiled at Ivan, and told the driver, another man on whom he could depend, to make his way to the Market Place. He lighted a cigar and puffed it vigorously as the car swung out of the palace gates and with shrill warnings made its way toward the centre of that day's attraction.
In the outskirts of the crowd the car was stopped by an officer who, on seeing the palace uniform worn by the driver, was prepared to give the car right of way. The American dismounted.
"Permit this car to stand here at the side where we can reach it when we return," he said. "Clear a way and conduct my man and me to the platform where the announcement is to be made. I am on the king's business."
"I recognised you, sir," said the officer respectfully, and at once called to two of his men and began conducting them forward. The crowd swayed, commented, and drew back leaving a free lane down which they pasesd. Gay it appeared with all the colours of the rainbow, a strange motley of gorgeous hues now that the holiday costume was donned. Under their feet the rounded cobbles, polished by many feet for many ages, were littered with broken flowers, tinsel from sweetmeats and confetti. Any great gathering in Marken betokened a holiday, sacred or secular, and habit could not be overcome in a day. At the foot of a grey old tower whose clock, daintily veiled with ivy, stared down at the assemblage, a stand had been erected; for here, from time immemorial, had been read the king's commands. It was always the same scene. First the waiting crowd, then the king's heralds brilliantly clad, the shrilling of silver trumpets, the silence, sometimes murmuring, sometimes breathless and expectant, as befitted the gravity of the situation, while some person of state shouted in long-drawn, deliberate tones the king's decree. Always it closed with the same statement, that confirmation would be found on the printed announcements hereafter to issue and "God Save the King!" Sometimes they had approved. Sometimes they had looked at one another sullenly, or humorously, and asked what God should save him for, being a little in doubt on that point, and finding no sufficient reason of their own. Legend said that away back in distant times, some of their kings, a very few, being those who could read, had in person bawled their own decrees. But that had been a long time ago, and—well—the ways of God's anointed were sometimes incomprehensible to those of meeker mould. An unexpurgated history, now suppressed, declared that Ferdinand First while addressing his loyal subjects had fallen over the platform rail because at the time he happened to be drunk; but none dared criticise a king lest, being God's chosen, one commit sacrilege. It was too much like scratching one's head when reading the Poet Laureate's poem dedicated to "Princess Ann Elize on Her Sixteenth Birthday," which called her fairer and more divine than all the angels ever before loaned direct from Heaven, when one who had seen her knew that she had a face like an oyster shell, with a pendent lower lip, and drooled when, straining her intelligence to its limit, she talked about the weather.
Kent reached the platform and saw one of his own men there, clad as a king's crier. The man looked like a cross between haughtiness and an attack of fever and ague. Kent thanked the officer, climbed to a back seat on the tiny platform and stared over the crowd below. He observed, with satisfaction, that here and there in this crowd there were tiny swirls and lanes like those of cross currents in a sluggish stream, and that every now and then an automobile at the extreme edge of the pool appeared to have been granted a burden, and dexterously whirled away.
A gun boomed from an old fortress that stood sentry above the market place. The old clock in the tower began a ringing of cracked and ancient chimes. A wooden crusader clumsily carved, and riding a clumsily carved figure presumed to represent a horse, went rocking around a circle with creaking jerks, met a similar wooden monstrosity, passed from sight, and a toy rooster opened a door and crowed as if to impress those below with the fact that he had a serious bronchial affection, or had lost part of his crow. Another effigy supposed to carry the colours of Marken creaked around the circle, and the official announcer got to his feet, and made his way to the front of the platform.
"In the name of his gracious majesty, Karl II, King of Marken, Duke of the Trentheim, Baron of the Oberwald," etc., etc., he announced and began reading the decree, which, stripped of the whereases and wherefores and constant references to Divine Eight, bluntly told the citizens of Marken the appalling truth—that they would have to go to work.
In the horrified silence it was explained that a state form of conscription had been evolved, not for the purpose of bearing arms, but that workers might be obtained for the conduct of various state enterprises, the profit therefrom to be derived by the state and applied to the payment of its debts and upkeep; that ultimately the citizens themselves would receive that profit after the state debts had been paid, and that the new form of taxation, that imposed by the work of their hands, would abrogate all others. Furthermore, it was announced that certain factories and public utilities were to be commandeered and in future operated by the government acting over and legitimately protecting the original owners. The voice of the announcer closed with its "God Save the King," and he took his seat.
There had been attentive silence while he read. Out there in the clear noon, under the clear blue sky, the Markenites listened, and struggled to comprehend. And then an abrupt murmur arose to become in a moment a roar, and the American sitting stolidly and listening attentively, caught an undernote that threatened anger; so without a moment's hesitation threw himself forward to stem the tide before it got beyond control. He signalled to the trumpeters and shouted, "Blow! Throw your lungs into it! Quickly! Blow!"
Obediently the two men trumpeted for attention. Kent had jumped across the platform and shouted into the announcer's ear: "Tell them the king has sent his agent to explain what the new conscription amounts to!"
In his gorgeous uniform the announcer again stepped to the front between the trumpeters, gestured them to stop and raised his hand for silence. "Hear Ye! Hear Ye!" he called, and paused until the silence was absolute. "That His People may understand, His Majesty the King has sent to you his personal agent to explain more fully than could be done by royal decree the objects and effects of the new law. Give heed to the king's mouthpiece!"
Kent came forward and studied his audience, that waited ominously.
"Listen to the king's desire," he said, in his big, resonant voice that swept over their heads and through the Market Place. "His Majesty has but one wish, to make Marken and Markenites respected and prosperous. He wishes to make the title of Markenite, all over the world, a proud synonym for honesty, industry, and prosperity."
He paused a moment with his shrewd senses alert, and decided that he was on the wrong track when he tried to arouse them to patriotism. Instantly his facile imagination adopted another course, and a momentary sneer flickered over his lips as he shifted to demagoguery, the fine old method used from the days of Borne to the days of the present, forever effective, and invariably ephemeral, but potent for a crisis such as this.
"The king has studied the situation. He believes that the poor are getting poorer and the rich richer, and that the great throbbing honest frame of mankind is about to be crucified on a cross of gold! Down with the trusts! Give the honest, horny-handed son of toil a chance! One man is as good as another and better. E Pluribus Unum! Multum in Parvo! Who is to blame? said His Majesty the King, after years of study. And then like seeing a great white light he understood. It was because these who had riches no longer worked but devoted themselves to idle luxury and looked down upon the real Markenites, those who, with rugged arms, sweat-stained brows, and hopeless eyes looked up to the Heavens and cried in patient agony, 'How long, Oh, Lord, how long!' Ground beneath the heel of the octopus wealth those who had nothing saw about them many who had much, but saw no way of getting any of it. 'Many of my beloved people,' said the king, 'produce nothing and will not work with their hands, whilst their brothers till the fields from rooster crow to nightingale's song for a mere pittance. I want,' said the king—the great sorrowing king of this imperial realm, 'to know that the workingman's dinner pail is full!' That is what he said."
He paused and saw with satisfaction that his words were having effect. He went them one better. He lowered his voice to a tone of pathos, rolled his eyes upward, shook his hands up at the clear blue sky and said in a still more impressive silence, "I would that you could have seen that great king that governs us all, Karl the Second, whose name shall pass down through all ages, immortal, enshrined in the tender memories of men, as he stood with great pitiful eyes suffused with unshed tears and cried, 'The salvation of my people lies in that simple thing, the full dinner pail! And that this may come about there is but one way, that all men shall work, produce, develop, and do their share. The richer the plutocrat, the more he should do. The poorer the man, the more opportunity he should have to become independent among his fellows. Therefore each and all shall work as his or their abilities seem fitted. There shall be no more starvation wages. Some wages shall be increased by the hundred fold, and others in proportion. The man who now earns but a kroner a day shall have two kroners. The rich man shall work with his brothers and actually earn the same.' Thus spoke His Majesty. The gracious king will see that work is forthcoming, and the gracious king will see that no one in all this broad land shall go hungry to his humble couch whilst others who have heretofore prospered beyond their deserts, shall with full bellies rest between silken sheets."
He paused dramatically, and lifted his hands above his head, crossed in a peculiar manner, and instantly a wild cheer broke out that began in a singularly scattered way, but was so insistent that the people themselves took it up at last and roared loudly, "God Save the King! Long live the King!"
Kent, discerning the same sort of frenzy that prevails alike in negro camp-meetings and Madison Square political meetings, where individuals yell and shriek principally because the men on either side are setting the example, played another fine old oratorical trick by furiously bawling for silence and gesturing appeals, polite requests, and commands.
"No man dares speak against the king's wish," he roared, as if intent on being heard by some one across the Atlantic ocean, "because his intelligent and wise fellows will understand, at once, that such an objector is a disgrace to the name of manhood, an obstructor to progress, a rebel at heart, and, worst of all, one who would trample under foot the grand and noble flag of labour, that sacred standard that has been followed, defended and died for since time began, that symbolises the glory of honest toil!"
Again he made that peculiar gesture, and this time the cheers were hysterical in volume and mingled with them was the roar of firearms as a group of soldiers stationed at the side of the Market Place, in obedience to a command from their officer, fired a blank salvo in the air. A man stationed in the tower banged the cracked bells and lashed them up to a fine imitation of joy. Men and women hugged one another. Dogs howled. Children shrieked with excitement, and the quaint old buildings surrounding the Market Place rocked and trembled with the universal ecstasy that intoxicated the Markenites now that they had been plainly told what a wonderful king was this that had come to lead them to universal riches, and, therefore, to such a state of plenty that they could buy anything in sight, eat the best there was to be had and patiently look forward to an earthly paradise where nobody at all had any work whatever to do.
The King's Remembrancer turned and winked slyly at Ivan and voiced silently the cryptic remarks made by many another renowned orator, when closing a successful campaign speech, "Guess that'll hold them for a little while. Come on! Let's beat it!"
Like a stern conqueror, with head erect and steady eyes he moved slowly through the lane that opened wide to give him egress. He seemed not to hear the shouts of approval, or the cheers of those who paid him adulation as the one who had spoken for the king. Only once he halted in this triumphal progress, when his eyes fell on a puffed-up and self-important contractor with whom he had become acquainted and whom he thoroughly detested for his garrulity. To him he extended his hand and spoke. The little man swelled visibly at being thus recognised by the great man, and was gratified that so many could see this evidence of friendship.
"The people understand," murmured Kent, confidentially. "The king told me they would, because he could always trust to their good sense; but His Excellency, the Chancellor, will be furious; because you see he wanted the king to lower all wages, and not compel any of the rich ones to work. The chancellor, born to a golden spoon, I am afraid hates the honest sons of toil. Trust the king to set him in his place if he goes too far!"
He gave a lugubrious shake of his head, again shook hands very warmly and hastened onward.
"One for you, Provarsk," he said to himself. "Before I've got out of this square that fat gas bag will pass it around with exaggeration and my worthy little chancellor won't dare travel without a guard for some time, I reckon. Hope they don't catch him and hang him on sight!"
CHAPTER TEN
IN the precincts of the palace, on that eventful afternoon, there was considerable apprehension sustained by the king, who, born to precedent and hedged in by conventionalities, believed in doing all things slowly and with decorum. As Kent once said, he was "As fine a watchful-waiter as ever succeeded in ponderously doing nothing." Indeed there was but one person visible after Kent's hasty departure for the Market Place who did not seem anxious, that person being the chancellor himself. He strolled languidly into Kent's office within three minutes after the American had passed out, and looked for the King's Remembrancer. Not seeing him, he smiled slyly, took a seat, waited a few minutes, and then rang the bell that summoned Kent's secretary. That astute and well trained young gentleman entered the room and stood like a statue of respectful attention.
"Good morning, Your Excellency," he said, while in the back of his brain ran the question, "Wonder what that pusillanimous blighter wants in here at this time?"
"I should like to speak with Mr. Kent," announced the chancellor.
"I regret to say, sir, that he is not in at present," replied the secretary, with due deference. "Any word which Your Excellency might———"
"When will he be in?" curtly interrupted Provarsk.
"Probably not until late this evening," was the calm response.
"Where is he?"
"I rather think, sir, that he has gone to inspect some new work over at the mines," deliberately lied the secretary, but with a convincing air of innocence and candour that proved his worth as either a secretary or a witness before a congressional investigating committee. He stood at ease, still with that air of deference, but noted that the chancellor, after a moment's thought, was undoubtedly pleased. His meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the king, who came in with more than usual haste. Provarsk instantly stood to his feet; but the king took one glance at him and frowned in lieu of greeting.
"Your superior—where is he?" demanded the king, addressing the secretary.
"He is not in at present, Your Majesty," promptly responded that worthy.
The king was undoubtedly anxious. A certain nervousness of demeanour expressed it.
"That is just what I was asking, Cousin," airily interjected the chancellor.
"Suppose you stop 'cousining' me," the king said, eyeing him with no attempt to conceal his dislike. "Besides, I don't know what you had been asking. Few people ever do."
With undisguised enjoyment that he had succeeded in exasperating the king, Provarsk smiled and flicked his fingers.
"Oh, tut! tut!" he said. "What I had just remarked was that I thought it very discreet of Mr. Kent to remove himself on such a momentous day. To take to the woods, I might say, lest a storm arise."
The king turned his back and walked toward the door leading out to the hanging balcony, where he stood gazing off toward the city. Not in the least disconcerted, Provarsk added, with mock gravity, "I even told him that affairs were critical and that perhaps the power of the throne itself had been cast on an issue of extreme doubt."
"That must distress you terribly," remarked the king, with a sneer in his voice.
"Ah, good morning, Your Royal Highness," Provarsk said with great heartiness, and the king turned to discover that his sister had entered the room and was now facing Provarsk with a cool stare.
"Karl," she asked, "is it true Mr. Kent still insists on forcing his wishes through to the very utmost? That enforced labour measure?"
"So far as I know," moodily replied the king.
"And aren't you afraid that——" she paused and looked at Provarsk, who declined to depart without direct orders.
"Afraid of what?" the king asked in a tone of irritation.
"Afraid there will be trouble," calmly interjected Provarsk. "That is what the Princess Eloise means. Afraid the people won't submit. And why should they? I wouldn't if I were one of them. You can give odds on that."
The secretary created a diversion by discreetly bowing himself backward to the office door and then through it, with the staid fervour of an automaton. The princess looked at her brother a polite request to order Provarsk from the room; but the king, through obstinacy, refused to heed it.
"You were about to say, Eloise?" he asked politely, as if the baron had not been present, and therefore had not impertinently added his voice to the conversation.
She had no time to answer; for at that moment there came from the distance a loud roar of many voices, and immediately after the sound of firearms in ragged volley. The effect on the king was as if some one had propelled him with a swift kick out to the balcony, where he gazed anxiously in the direction of the city. The princess, distressed, also moved toward the balcony, while Provarsk grinned pleasantly and seemed to understand the meaning of the sound. He was confident that he alone knew all that was conveyed by that uproar. He rather hoped that enough Markenites had been killed and wounded to make his revolt a good one. He cocked his head intently to listen for further shots, heard the distant clangour of the bells in the city tower, and decided it must be an alarum, and then another noise became audible, the sound of some one hastily coming through the tiled corridors, and this latter noise perplexed him. It grew louder and more distinct, and both king and princess, hearing it, hastily re-entered the room. Stentorian puffs and wheezes were now accompanied by the ringing of boot-heels and spurs, and through the door galloped the Minister of War. He was in full uniform of his own proud design, and the red of his broad sash was no redder than the red of his face. His eyes protruded and were wide, and his hand was on his sword hilt. So fast had been his progress, and so intense his excitement, that for a moment he appeared unable to speak. Then he burst out, "Has any one seen Mr. Kent? Has any one seen Mr. Kent, Your Majesty? Oh, this is horrible. Horrible!"
"I regret to say, sir, that he is not in at present. Any word which Your Excellency might wish to leave will be duly repeated," Provarsk said in admirable imitation of Kent's secretary, and then added, "My goodness! It's all fussed up, isn't it?"
"Everything is lost!" exclaimed the Minister of War, speaking to the king.
"What has happened!" asked the latter, quietly, confronting an issue that brought out his better and fighting qualities.
"Mr. Kent! He told me that he proposed to put the decree through regardless of anything and that if I had to fight, fight it would be; told me to have my army stationed at places named, but said he would be there and that I wasn't to give the command to fire until he told me to. Great crowd! People all excited and restless! Accidentally dropped my glasses and stepped on them! And I've lost the oculist's prescription."
"You're rattled!" said the king, growing still cooler now that he faced an emergency.
"So I am! So I am!" admitted Von Glutz, hastily. "But I couldn't see Mr. Kent anywhere and the crowd grew threatening. I asked if any one of my officers had seen him. No one had. I hurried here to inform him, and on the way I heard shots. It can mean but one thing; that, pressed to the limit, my soldiers have fired, and that Marken is in a state of civil war!"
He paused for want of breath, and the king clenched his hands and made as if to go to the front himself; then whirled and asked sharply, "If he told you to stay there in command of the troops, who is in charge now?"
"General Handers."
The king hesitated; but the princess asked stormily, "Did Mr. Kent say you were to kill the people if a disturbance resulted?"
Von Glutz in his turn hesitated, trying to recall his exact orders.
"On signal from him," he replied.
"Karl! Karl!" she called. "Something must be done at once! This will never do. You must act, regardless of your promises to this American. Now! This comes, you see, from your putting yourself into the hands of such a man."
Emboldened by her criticism of the dictator, Baron Provarsk thought he saw his opportunity and assumed an air of extreme honesty and distress.
"The princess is right!" he declared to the king. "It is time to cast off such an incubus before the kingdom itself has gone to the dogs."
The princess recognised his presence for the first time.
"What do you mean by that?" she demanded, regarding him sternly.
It nettled him to an unfortunate retort.
"I mean that the only way in which affairs can be straightened out is to at once counteract every- thing this fellow Kent has done, and if I had my way he would be taken out and shot before the day is over."
At his callous indifference to either justice or life, she gasped, and eyed him with a wide stare. Provarsk wondered if, in overlooking the complexities of a woman's mind, he had not made a mistake; but he was still daring to hope to turn the situation to his own advantage. "If I am to be an actual chancellor, " he began suavely, but was cut short by the princess.
"Which, no matter what happens, you are not to be, and so of course is all useless to talk about! You would have Mr. Kent shot! You! Why, the worst blunders he ever made are sure to be better than the best things you have ever done. You have told what you would do if you had your way. Well, I'll tell you what I would have done if I had mine! I'd have you booted into the street and through the Market Place. Kent? Whatever else Mr. Kent is, he is a man. No matter if he has made mistakes, and is a money lender, and all that, he is still a real man and unafraid. Who are you, to talk about having him shot?"
She faced her brother as if her last contemptuous gibe at Provarsk had been her final one for him, and saw that her brother's eyes were fixed on the door and that Von Glutz also stared in that direction with a look of relief. She also turned and saw that the American had entered the room and was now coming gravely toward her.
"I overheard Your Royal Highness," he said, "and I thank you for your defence. I had not hoped for so much and I am grateful—very, very grateful—for a friendship that I esteem as of great worth."
She was visibly embarrassed, and took refuge in a diversion.
"What has happened in the Market Place?" both she and the king asked in chorus.
"It's a terrible situation," wheezed Von Glutz.
Kent's eyes flickered as if he now understood the cause of the assemblage in his reception room.
"In some ways," he said; "but I don't see how I could have acted differently."
"Why didn't you" began the princess impatiently, and then hesitated and looked at the king.
"Will the princess please finish?" the American asked. "I wish you would extend your friendship to the point of advice. What would you have done?"
"First of all, I should quell the riot. It comes from misunderstanding. There are no kindlier nor more amenable people, Mr. Kent, than ours. They should not have been fired upon at all."
He stood quietly to one side, listening attentively, as if all his own plans had been defeated.
"I don't see why we waste time talking now," the king declared, impatiently.
"Please, Sire, allow the Princess Eloise to proceed," Kent said. "Her suggestions might be valuable." He turned his face toward her and encouraged her by asking, "And what then? After the riot is quelled?"
"Then they must be dealt with kindly, but with resolute firmness. It will not do to seem to give in to them. They must be made to obey; but there can be a compromise of some sort, can there not? This new plan was too unexpected, too drastic. It would have been better to have prepared them gradually. That would have been my way, Mr. Kent."
She stopped in expectation of his defence, and gazed at him with sympathy and regret, as if wishing to assist him in any way she could now that his plans, all energetic, all hopeful, had gone awry. She had never by word, until this day, credited him with any virtues.
"Thank you," he said quietly, lifting his fine eyes to hers. "I applaud your firmness. It's like encouragement from a friend to hear you talk. But I think, after all, that my way was the best. Something abrupt and sensational had to be done to arouse them. I did it. It worked all right."
All in the room fixed him with looks of interrogation and suspense. The chancellor emitted a sarcastic, "You certainly did!"
"And now we've got a revolution!" grumpily muttered Von Glutz.
Kent was still watching the princess, and had opened his lips as if to explain the situation to her when Ivan came striding into the room, stopped and would have retreated when he saw those present, had not Kent halted him with a gesture.
"Well, Ivan," Kent asked, "have you got them all right now?"
"Yes, sir. Captain Paulo said to tell you that the last of them had been rounded up and that all of them are now in jail. Also that he had followed your instructions and ordered an hour of free refreshments in the name of the king. The Market Place is filled now with people singing the national air and shouting their heads off for His Majesty. They've wrapped a big banner round the clock tower that reads, 'At last we have a king in Marken. God preserve His Majesty, Karl the Second.'"
Kent calmly grinned at Provarsk, whose face had grown black as an August thunder cloud. The king looked bewildered and vastly relieved. Von Glutz exclaimed, "God help us! What does it all mean?" and the Princess Eloise broke into a surprised and gratified smile.
Kent again faced Ivan and asked, "And by the way, did you learn what they have to say about our most noble chancellor, Provarsk?"
Ivan grinned broadly, and with marked enjoyment said, "Yes. Most of the things they said I can't repeat; but I should think it would not be very wise or safe for His Excellency, the Chancellor, to be seen without a good strong guard for a few days, or until this celebration blows over. On that point they dispute among themselves; some being in favour of tar and feathers, while the others insist on hanging."
"You remember of whom you are speaking!" roared Provarsk, betrayed into an unusual display of anger.
"If necessary," said Kent, eyeing him, "I'll see that you are handed over to the mob in the Market Place within the next ten minutes, and with the word that the king agrees with those who want to lynch you."
"You asked my advice a few minutes ago, Mr. Kent," the princess broke in with a malicious little laugh. " Let me offer it. Send him down there now, regardless of whether he has anything more to say."
Provarsk controlled himself and was again the polished, self-contained, and fearless man of the moment. He brought his heels together and bowed very low toward the princess.
"To be hanged by Your Royal Highness' wish would be a happines to me," he said.
"Come! Come! We've had enough of this, it seems to me," said the king. "If Mr. Kent will but relieve our suspense by explaining what took place"
"Very easily done," the American replied, with the utmost calmness. "I learned that a combination had been effected between a certain number of men to provoke a riot at what they believed a suitable moment. It was to be such a row that it might become a full-grown revolt. I therefore took measures to see that each one of these hired lambs was to be shadowed by a guardsman I could depend upon. The Princess Eloise will be delighted to know that these guardsmen consisted of former adherents of a petty baron named Provarsk, who have taken service under me personally. Money paid into an itching palm at regular intervals and in sufficient sums, does make some men loyal. These followers swear by me."
He did not look at the discomfited Provarsk, who affected an air of the utmost indifference and stared absently out toward the garden.
"So," Kent went on, "when the hired disturbers started their outburst each one was instantly clapped on the shoulder and carried away to a nice, secure little place protected by iron bars. I gave the people a treat. Talked to them myself and was—ahem! received with marked enthusiasm. The firing you heard was prearranged by me. It was a salvo of joy fired with blank cartridges. The ringing of the bells was also arranged by me, to give due dramatic effect. The feeling of love for the chancellor was also stimulated by me. I pointed out that it was he who signed the harsh decree enforcing labour, and suggested that only the unswerving efforts of His Majesty, the King, had ameliorated what might have been a most heart-rending condition of toil. We turned the proposed revolt into a celebration of joy and enthusiasm for His Majesty, who is probably at this moment the best loved man in Marken."
The king threw off royal dignity, and impulsively tried to express his thanks, but seemed to have trouble with his throat.
As if to relieve himself from an embarrassing position, Kent suddenly swung round toward Provarsk, and fixed him with mocking eyes.
"By the way, Chancellor," he asked in a casual tone, "isn't the banker Wimblehurst a friend of yours?"
"It seems to me that I am acquainted with the gentleman," Provarsk replied, not in the least perturbed.
"Too bad! Too bad!" said Kent. "He was the leader of the disturbers. He was the first one I had arrested and put in jail. To-morrow he shall be deported and all his property escheat to the crown."
"Dreadful person!" said Provarsk, with a slight grin.
Kent's eyes lost all mockery and stared harshly at Provarsk with an unmistakable menace.
"Take care, Your Excellency, lest you overwork and the cares of state become too great for your zeal. It would indeed be pitiable if you were suddenly compelled to join that estimable gentleman, your friend the banker, in an equally penniless state."
Provarsk did not waver. He sniffed disdainfully, and with the utmost politeness asked, "Am I to understand that this is a command for my departure?"
"Not at all! Why should it be?" Kent retorted with cynical courtesy. "Oh, no, indeed! You are too good a thing to lose sight of, my gentle chancellor. Why, do you know, you are the most interesting person I have met since the panic of 1903? It is almost unthinkable what might happen to Marken without your presence to guide the ship of state through the reefs of unrest. Also I'm making you popular; as popular as castor oil for a summer beverage."
He waved his hand deprecatingly.
"I am sure," he said, deferentially, "that Your Excellency will pardon, for speaking so feelingly, one who is, after all, but the King's Remembrancer."
"Quite so! Quite so!" retaliated Provarsk, with unbroken nerve. "Let us hope that it doesn't happen again. It's the first time I knew you had any feelings."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
IT was nearly three months later when the various steel manufacturers of the world were stirred and agitated by the announcement that the redoubtable John Rhodes had again been heard from and in a most unsatisfactory way. The manganese deposits, of which there were only two or three of any size on earth, had been secretly bought in, or concessions gained therefor, and word came from the blithe John Rhodes, dated from his London offices, that hereafter manganese would double in price. Steel manufacturers swore volubly, but the market went soaring. Some of the manufacturers used cables and wires to find out if that deposit which was said to exist in a dinky little kingdom called Marken, was open for sale, lease, or concession.
The replies provoked renewed profanity, inasmuch as they tersely said, "Nothing doing. Concession already held by John Rhodes. (Signed) Kent."
And the steel industry of the world threw up its hands in horror and was compelled to submit to unheard of prices for a commodity that was indispensable for all manganese steel. Richard Kent, smiling plaintively in his offices in the palace, found much cause to feel well satisfied. He had "made good" with John Rhodes for life, for on his judgment John Rhodes was making "a killing." Kent could now see the way not only to repay Rhodes all the money advanced to Marken, but in addition thereto was enjoying himself to the uttermost in the development of his big machine of state enterprise.
"I've put Marken on the map, you can bet," he confided to Paulo. "A year ago mighty few people had ever heard of it. To-day it's known everywhere, and there's a nice crowd of kings here in Europe who have a hundred times more power, but who are sick with envy. Marken markets on manganese are quoted daily all over the world. That's going some!"
Daily, also, the American was giving the king lessons in finance that made that dreamer take a new interest in life. The state automobile no longer hooted over the drives, because the king was too busy poring over the books which Kent had caused to be opened for him. Kent assured the king that in due time he would be made into a first-class accountant. He also suggested at times that it would be a fine thing for Her Royal Highness to study stenography and typewriting so she could assist in confidential matters; but at this the king drew the line. Paulo had already succumbed and become as busy an office man as any concern might wish, Von Glutz had been burdened with the department of highways and railways, and could be daily seen inspecting steam rollers and consulting with traffic officials, and the chancellor was the only man about the palace who was entrusted with nothing at all. It began to be rumoured that the king of Marken was due in time to make the distinguished Prince of Monaco look like a deuce spot in the financial world. Meanwhile, Richard Kent, hustling, scheming, sat like a spider in a den and pulled webs from morning to night, and remained the least-known man on the scene. The Markenites liked him and called him, familiarly, the King's Errand Boy, a title to which he made not the slightest objection. But the Princess Eloise was troubled.
Prior to that day in the palace when the throne seemed rocking on its stately legs, the American had striven for her friendship. She had disapproved of him with an intensity that she could not now understand. He had lashed her with gentle, ironical raillery; he had dared to command and subdue her; and then, after the day of her brave championship, when she had wished to be his friend and ally, he had cultivated a studious and aloof politeness. She could not decide which of her actions had caused this change. Surely the man was big enough to fathom her distress and mental harassments in those times of upheaval! From a defiant dislike, she had been won to a grudging respect for his rough, direct methods. She felt that she merited forgiveness for the natural ignorance of one who had never before come in contact with an American, and particularly with such a one. She had come to forget that he was not of her own nationality, which but increased her resentment. She had learned to understand that this alien who came and went, obscure, unobtrusive, unassuming, had in him some marvellous quality of leadership and organisation that needed no trappings to give it dignity and power. And as the success of his methods became positive in realisation, she regretted opportunities, lost, for a better friendship and understanding, with and of such a character. There was embodied in him a strange, new and virile life, a capacity for achievement, that she decided must have been born of that strange, new and virile country from which he had sprung. All her life had been imbued with contempt for such a country, a country of crudities, a colossus with nothing to recommend it save resources and wealth, and now, in the presence of this man from that country, who adroitly twisted all things to his purpose, she felt peculiarly weak and useless. What was there about him, what mysterious quality, that enabled him to set a king at work like a bookkeeper, a former chancellor to hurrying over dusty roads to inspect a public work, and an ardent young soldier like Captain Paulo to the dry task of manipulating funds? She had, with a sense of shame, made pretexts to seek him in those offices that had become driving centres of effort, and sometimes she had surprised him at his work and, unobserved, seen him sitting stockily before a desk where there was a battery of telephones, batteries of push-buttons, and compact reference cards, and noted with admiration the crispness of his commands, and the ordered intelligence of his methods. Her brother had become this man's admiring slave, and appeared to enjoy with him a friendship that was constantly increasing in intimacy. She had looked across from her wing of the palace at late hours on those long summer nights, and when the shades were up and the windows open, seen them lounging together and heard them laughing heartily at their own comments. And, worst of all, her brother was amazingly improved by this contact, for now he moved with a confident air, as if no longer uncertain of himself. The improvement was not without another change that she was not certain she liked; for her brother no longer carried himself with the august dignity of a king; but had fallen to the American's carelessness of dress and dislike of functions. He forgot to change clothes several times a day and formed an affection for an ordinary sack suit, which, she observed with horror, was gradually bagging at the knees. Also, he had cultivated a blotch of ink on the inner sides of his first and second fingers, and was impatient when she spoke to him of this delinquency.
"We've got no time, Kent and I, to waste on pumice stone and perfume!" he declared at the table one evening when she reproached him.
And worst of all, he was eating like a working-man! As if he wanted no amenities and only food. Plain deterioration, she thought it. Also, his conversation had undergone a subtle change. He no longer talked of the standard topics of royalty such as the weather, reports from the last yacht regatta, and the court scandal of neighbouring kingdoms. Instead, he waxed enthusiastic over another electric power plant, of the possibilities of all taxation being remitted, owing to state prosperity, of old age pensions, and how a new way had been found to increase production and lower costs of this or that, by Kent. Always Kent! Kent did this, or Kent said that! Had to lay a cornerstone to-morrow for a new plant, because Kent thought it best. Beastly bore, but Kent insisted that he should do it because the people liked it. Kent ragged him because he laid the last one without enough ceremony.
"But the dignity of the throne!" she remonstrated, highly shocked by his confession.
"Hang all that stuff!" he retorted in vulgar slang, also learned from Kent. "The only thing that counts is what you are doing and how well you get it done. Kent said so, and I want to tell you, Eloise, that what Kent says is good enough for me to go by. We—how is it he says it in English?—We are making the old dry bones rattle!"
She affected contempt for these barbarisms and in distress sought that staid old gentleman, the Minister of War, for consolation; but here again she was rebuffed.
"Haw! Haw! Haw!" roared Von Glutz. "One can't attend to all things, Your Royal Highness. Of course none of us are as polite as we used to be. Haven't the time. No, indeed."
"There is time for civilities, isn't there?" she demanded hotly, and the red-faced old man became grave.
"Eloise," he said, "I trotted you and Karl on my knees when you were nothing but babies. I was chancellor under your father. Your grandfather used to pat my head when he met me in these gardens out here. Now listen! I want to tell you something. In all its history there has never been a Marken like this. It's a kingdom, now! It is going to be able to buy and sell a lot of its neighbours. It's respected. It pays its bills. Its bonds are away above par among the best in the world. If it wants more territory it doesn't have to go to war to get it. It can buy it, outright!"
He even slapped his fat, sun-tanned hand on his knee to emphasise his point, and added, "We were all mistaken. It took a Kent to show us how. He is a great man, Eloise, a very great man. The greatest that ever came to Marken. Why, do you know, I was angry when he used to call me a doddering old fool, and now I know he was right. I like it, I do!"
He threw his head back proudly and defiantly. He, the dignified stately old chancellor, admitted that he was pleased to be called a fool so long as it was this phenomenal alien who called him that! She ended that interview by lifting her head in the air and passing from the room, and reddened with annoyance when she thought she heard from behind her a soft, chuckling noise. And then came the worst shock of all. The king had actually gone, with bag-kneed trousers, ink-stained fingers and all, accompanied by Kent only, into the city and attended an evening band concert in the Market Place. And most undignified had been the consequence; for the people, recognising him, had given him an ovation and with locked arms escorted him home to the very palace gates! When, mortified, she had reproached him for this lack of dignity, the king had casually replied, "To the deuce with it! Say, I've got something that beats all that, and from now on I'm going every night I can find time. What I've found out is that the people like me. There was a baker down there, and his name was Pete; sort of a man of affairs, I think, who is on the city council, and he made a speech. In a cafe, it was, and I had to make a speech. Kent says that I did well. Says I've got them all buffaloed, whatever that is. Says I've got the makings, whatever that is, of a fine orator. And next week I'm going to a banquet given by the ironmongers' guild, and Kent says that after this when there's a decree to be read, he wants me to go and read it myself. He says I'm a—what is it that he calls it in English? Oh, yes, I'm a good mixer. Kent says I've got to learn how to get acquainted with every one, and yet keep my dignity. Says I must never let any one talk about state affairs, but that I must make them feel that they can come to me when they are in trouble. Says I can get them so that they would die to the man if I asked them to."
"What else did this wonderful Mr. Kent advise?" she asked.
"Said I must never permit any familiarity, but must make them feel that we are all working together to make Marken great; that as the head of the state I am entitled to respect but that my acts as an individual are open to criticism; said I must learn to submerge myself, and make them think of Marken in the day-time, and dream of it by night. That I must make them proud of being Markenites above all things. That I must make them proud to say that they know the king personally, and earn the reputation of being a just king who could always be depended upon."
"Rank Democracy!" she exclaimed.
"All right. Call it that if you wish; but I tell you I am learning that the way to make men do things for me, is to make them do it because they wish to and not merely because I happen to be the king," he answered, with emphasis, and then she realised that the change had been greater than she had seen, and that her brother had thrown aside all the precedent that had made the dynasty a mysterious potency, because this money lender had shown a new way. She shuddered with apprehension when alone. She resolved to make further efforts to learn this strange man Kent, and if necessary check his aggressions. Something must be done. She had tried defiance with him at various times, and always been worsted. She had tried to approach him on a friendly basis and had been held aloof by his quiet politeness. She resolved to attack his reserve in a more subtle way, by approaching him over ground that was indubitably his weak point.
And so it was that the American, in his private office one morning, was told that Her Royal Highness the Princess Eloise waited in the reception room. He responded at once and stood before her with his grave air of attention.
"Mr. Kent," she said, smiling up at him, "I have come on affairs of state."
He wondered, mentally, what this dispute could be about, but said courteously, "I am of course a Your Royal Highness' service."
His steadfast, calm aloofness bothered her.
"Why is it that you do not make use of me?"
"Make use of you? Make use—I scarcely understand."
"Yes, make use of me. I am the only one you do not employ. You have my brother converted to your creed. Baron von Glutz is working harder than he ever did in his life. Captain Paulo has no time for any one or any other occupation than his own affairs. I am the only one left out. Surely I am as much interested as any one, and surely there is something I can do. I came to learn what it is. "
His face relaxed into a warm smile that was his chief charm, a smile that forever came unexpectedly, that displayed his firm white teeth, that brought little wrinkles to the corners of his clear eyes. Then as if studying the face of a child, he looked at her with an odd kindliness and approval. She was the first to lower her gaze and could not understand why she suddenly felt like a small girl appealing to a very great man.
"Will you not be seated?" she asked and heard him obey. She did not look up until he began to speak, and there was nothing of ridicule, sarcasm, or raillery in his musical voice.
"There is much that you might do, Princess Eloise, if only you understood; but the barrier between a princess and her people, the common people, I mean, is—well—it's a mighty hard hurdle to take. I don't know much about such things. I wasn't brought up exactly as those of royal families are, you see. I graduated from a sawmill. Outside of lumber kings, and soap kings, and others of that sort, we haven't any kings in America. The way I look at the situation here is this. First we had to make Marken honest and prosperous. To do that we had to make people work, make them all get their shoulders to the wheel and shove in the same direction. That far we have got. Next, so that they may keep shoving for all they are worth, we have got to get closer and closer to them; got to make them loyal to Marken and its ruling house because they want to be so. People can be forced to do things for a while by law; but that wears off, sometime. People don't have to be forced when they do things through respect and affection. They do them because they want to. Because it's natural for them to do so. Our task now is to win their affection without losing their respect. You could do some very good work in that direction. It would help, materially. It might, sometime, Your Royal Highness, avert a serious crisis."
"You mean?" she asked earnestly.
"I mean that in the past there has been too much royalty here and not enough people; that the time has come when a—let us say a very small place like Marken—must begin to wear its clothes differently. When its royal house must stop trying to ape the emperors and kings and czars of great and powerful nations; drop the royal splendour pretence, and begin to make itself a power in its own way, on new lines, and let all others think whatever they please and be perfectly indifferent to what they do think. You've got to forget that you are a princess, and try to make friends out there. Every one of those women working in the fields, every girl out there of your age, has just as many perplexities, and sorrows, and hopes, and ambitions as you have. They've got just as much right to live and to hope. Doubtless some of their sorrows and some of their hopes would seem ridiculous to you. Doubtless a lot of your sorrows and hopes would look equally ridiculous to them. So, if you wish to help, and I know you do or you wouldn't be here now, you must go out among them and establish a new line, a common ground, whereon their difficulties no longer seem trivial to you, and yours no longer ridiculous to them. Find a way to rub shoulders with them. They'll not contaminate you. You'll make it a whole lot easier for them. Get to know their names. Help christen their babies. Learn to advise. Learn to accept advice. Make them feel that you are not only a princess, but a woman as well. Why, the proudest title any man ever had in my country, Princess Eloise, was given to a ruler when they commonly called him Old Abe. Everybody knew who Old Abe was. And the reason it was the finest title was because they gave it to him from their hearts! A nation fought when he asked them to. A nation wept when Old Abe died."
Some great pathos in his voice, unsuspected from such a man, some prodigious seriousness, impressed and subdued her as she listened. This was not the money lender. Here was one who had pulled the curtain from the alcoves of his mind, and exposed therein something so noble that it brought her, a princess, to her knees. A glimpse had been given her of a fair landscape beyond all that she had ever seen, fairer than she had ever seen, tenderly appealing, warmly alluring, like unto the dream of Parsifal. A land through which she might not pass save through nobility of spirit alone. She was crushed by a sense of littleness, of unworthiness. The American had arisen to his feet and she felt his glowing eyes. She arose, confused by the swift tracery of her thought, and stood before him with bent head and hands clasped before her. She spoke, still under the spell of the dream invoked by his clear insight, but could only stammer, "I am trying—am trying, Mr. Kent, to see. And I understand, now,—and I don't blame you—why you despise me!"
Had she looked up, then, she would have observed the swift look of pain that swept across his face, and his struggle to hold himself in leash. Just for an instant, and then, curbed by his relentless will, it was gone, and he was merely the quiet, inflexible, and kindly man regarding her with serious eyes.
"I did not say that," he rebuked her. "You asked what you could do to help. I tried to help you. You must find the way. I can't. I don't understand women. And because of this, I have most always avoided them. I do know men. I've had to. I've made my way by knowing them. And after all, I may be mistaken in my ideas. Sometimes I think they are foolish; but it seems to me worth thinking over, Princess Eloise, and I've learned that by thinking hard enough, one can almost always find a way. I hope you can, because, you see, you could do a heap of good. This place we're in has no jobs for cripples or pygmies."
She glanced at him to reassure herself that he was not again mocking her; but saw nothing beyond the utmost candour in his look; yet she was secretly pleased to discover, with a woman's intuition, that he felt awkward and embarrassed. She proved merciful to him and to herself, by uttering a single sentence.
"Thank you," she said. "I promise to try."
He bowed deeply to her as she walked from the room without looking back and then for a long time stood with his hands in his pockets and glowered out over the roofs and spires of the city, dimmed and empurpled by the evening glow.
CHAPTER TWELVE
IT was spring again, and as if the change of weather or the indefatigable work of winter had worn him to laxity, Kent sat in his private office, for once idle. The king, wearing another business suit that had also assumed bags at the knees, came hurriedly in and closed the door behind him.
"Hello!" said the American, swinging around to greet him. "What's up? You look worried."
"I am!" was the king's reply, as he threw himself into a chair and wiped his brow. "I've got the worst of news."
"Where did you get it?" asked Kent, with a grin that the king did not return.
"Down in the village," he said. "Two or three of the men I have made friends came to warn me. I listened and came back here as quickly as I could to talk it over with you. Provarsk has been undermining us again."
Kent's eyes twinkled and he settled back into his chair and lighted his pipe.
"Is that so!" he exclaimed, without excitement. "Well, what do you think you ought to do about it?"
"Do? I can't do anything without your consent, and you won't give it. I wanted either to have him tried for conspiracy against the state, or throw him out of it, two months ago. You wouldn't consent. You said something about giving the calf rope enough to hang itself, and did all you could to assist him by gradually giving him more power."
"Well, has he hanged himself yet?"
"Hanged himself? Of course not. He's trying to have us hanged."
"How?" asked Kent with that same air of quiet enjoyment, that did not at all please the king.
"By surreptitiously making the people discontented. He has them believing that working the mines the way they do is an injustice; that from the mines I am getting rich; but that all the other state institutions are scarcely paying at all. It's useless to tell them that they are all profitable"
"Save one," slyly interjected Kent. "That state bath house is a complete failure. It has required all the means at my command to keep people from knowing it. The mineral springs turned to salt more than six weeks ago."
The king showed his surprise.
"Well, then—why—why didn't you close the place up? I didn't know that."
"True," said Kent, with the same easy demeanour. "I don't suppose you did know it. I haven't told any one, and there's not a man working there who isn't a confidential employé of mine. I had reason."
"But we have made money out of all the other state enterprises?" asked the king, anxiously.
"Out of every one of them. Marken, whether it wants to be or not, is due to become one of the richest nations, per capita, in the world."
He laid his pipe to one side, and leaned toward the king in a brisk business attitude.
"Listen," he said, "and I'll tell you what it means. The time had come to eliminate Mr. Provarsk. The very reason we kept him here in the first place was to give him either a chance to make good, or to fix him so that he would be forever harmless. "Well, we've had to take steps to do the latter."
The king shook his head and said, "I don't see how."
"When we opened up the state enterprises, we permitted any one to buy stock in small blocks, didn't we? We held control only. Provarsk tried to bribe my secretary to give him inside information as to what ones would be the most promising, and to which ones we would give the greatest state support. My secretary told me. Already I had decided to drop the mineral water resort project because it couldn't be made to pay. I had my secretary take Provarsk's bribe, and then tell him that the mineral water company was to be our biggest winner. Provarsk, through straw men and in divers ways, bought and bought until every dollar he could rake and scrape is in the venture. He owns forty-nine per cent of a project that isn't worth ten kronin on the minute that the state support is withdrawn and the reasons made public. Now do you see it all?"
"No, I don't," admitted the king thoughtfully. "What has that to do with a fresh disturbance among the people?"
Kent laughed, amused at what he regarded as the king's denseness.
"Why, just this. He expects to arouse the people to a point where they will demand a big share in the profits of all enterprises. Perhaps the absolute relinquishment of state control and ownership. Then those who hold the controlling stock in the best enterprise will find themselves rich. He thinks he has the best one."
"Pshaw! You haven't understood me," declared the king soberly. "I said that he aims his efforts at the mines."
"Quite true," replied the American. "In that way he kills several birds with one stone. He thinks that he upsets my house of cards on one hand, and builds his own with the other. Also, he embarrasses you because he knows that you dare not tell the people of Marken that you have given John Rhodes a concession for these mines, and that, although they have been getting big pay, they have been enriching you, as well as paying back John Rhodes' money. The people themselves have been helping to do it."
"Can't agree with you quite!" stubbornly insisted the king. "Why, the men who work there are getting double the wages, and sometimes quadruple, that they ever before had in their lives. They are prosperous—prosperous beyond any hope that any of them ever had. You don't mean to say that prosperous men are the ones to revolt?"
"Nothing more certain in the world! Too much prosperity is just the same, if not worse, than too much poverty. An autocrat, I have come to the conclusion, can make, with fair luck, either one or the other; too much wealth or too much poverty. And the end will always be the same—they will get rid of the autocrat, who is the most obsolete being on God Almighty's earth. There are times when one seems a necessity; but the moment that necessity vanishes, so does he. Three very great nations in this world proved it, Great Britain, France and the United States. Sometimes I think the others don't count!"
"But we must stop Provarsk!" insisted the king, desperately.
"You leave Provarsk alone. He is doing just exactly what I foresaw, and what I want him to do."
For a moment they stared at each other, and the king was vexed.
"Come," said Kent seriously, "haven't I accomplished nearly everything I have undertaken? Have you lost by my suggestions? Think it over a minute, friend, before you reply."
The king did. Then, as abruptly it all recurred to him, his own desperate condition when first he met this man, the startling innovations, the progress they had made, their friendship, and above all, the strength and independence that this alien had taught him, he was ashamed of his own doubts. He made frank confession.
"Kent," the king said, "I'm still a—what you call a chump!"
"Nothing of the sort," remonstrated the American. "You're all right! Only you don't do things the way I do, and I think that when it comes to handling rogues, my way is better than yours. Now see here! This is what is going to happen. I am going to make our choice chancellor believe that he has it all his own way. Going to give him a lot more authority. Going to be blind and deaf, apparently. Don't you interfere. I'll let you know when I want you. Let him stir up his revolt. It can take but one course, that of demands, because it is far too late for him to dare to do anything against Your Majesty, personally. Why, if he harmed a hair of your or your sister's head, or suggested such a thing, they would take him down into the centre of the Market Place and burn him at a stake! And when the demands come up, it's got to be up to you. You've either got to give or refuse, and may Heaven help you if you blunder. I shall decline to advise you. The time will then have come when you must act for yourself and be your own advisor."
An hour later the king, with an anxious but resolute look, made his way to his private dressing rooms to prepare himself for a court reception in which he was to be invested with a decoration from a neighbouring monarch who, hearing of the wealth of Marken, was on the eve of asking for a loan and also opening negotiations leading to a marriage between his eldest son, the crown prince, and the Princess Eloise.
Also Provarsk, who had accidentally met the King's Remembrancer in the corridors, was being complimented by the latter on a manifesto that the chancellor had issued without authority and told that, inasmuch as all old hatchets had been buried, there was no reason why the chancellor should not really assume more power and do what he could to assist in the nation's welfare. Provarsk smiled gleefully when he left the King's Remembrancer; likewise the King's Remembrancer smiled. They met once more that day, when in the palace gardens the chancellor, self-confident, came upon Kent and the Princess Eloise. He paused to pay her his respects, which she accepted with cool politeness.
"I learned a few days ago that Your Royal Highness had joined the others of us in the efforts for the good of the kingdom—er—got money to build a hospital for women, or something like that. Subscription lists all closed, Grand Hurrah, and all that."
"So?" she retorted in a calm drawl. "You are as nearly correct as one could expect. I haven't joined an effort, because I have made the effort. It is true that there is to be a hospital, but not true that its cost was raised by subscription. I am building it out of my own private funds and the women of Marken have gratefully agreed to support it."
He laughed tolerantly.
"Oh, they're grateful, all right—for anything they can get for nothing."
An angry retort was on her lips, but she caught a warning look from Kent and remained silent. Disappointed in his failure to exasperate her, Provarsk took a fling at the American.
"Your methods are much better, Mr. Kent. You make them earn what they get and at the same time take good care to get yours."
"To be sure I do!" Kent agreed heartily. "That is your great weakness, Baron, your philanthropy. You should take a lesson from me, and learn how to get your own profits first."
"I am trying to prove an apt pupil," the chancellor responded. "I've always wanted money. You have taught me several ways of getting it."
"Quite possible," declared Kent, almost with enthusiasm.
Provarsk pleaded the necessity for greeting some one, and after a very low bow to the princess, and a light salute to the American, sauntered away. She stood with a frown on her face and watched him. Kent, after a moment's wait, laughed quietly.
"Isn't he fine?" he asked. "I rather like that chap. If he could only run straight, he might go a long way. He's got the assurance of a pet Tomcat, the persistence of a flea, and I don't believe he knows what fear is."
"I hate him!" exclaimed the princess.
"That never pays. It's a waste of time," he declared; and then suddenly shifting the subject, said, "Will you permit me to congratulate you on your hospital plan! It is something that has been needed here. I have been watching your work. You have done as I thought you might— found that common ground between the women of the kingdom and yourself. And you have done it alone, and unadvised. I am afraid you were a little too liberal, though. It must have strained your private resources."
"Strained them?" she said, and then laughed softly. "It did more than that, Mr. Kent. But I didn't want to do it by halves, and the more I thought over it, the more I became enthused, and—there we are!"
"Was it worth while?" he asked, quietly, and staring at her profile that, against the darkness of the foliage, looked pale under the swinging fête lamps above them.
She turned toward him in a frank outburst.
"Yes ! More than worth while! And I owe this new world of mine to you. I started badly. I must tell you, to be really honest, that I came to you that day through pique. I saw that you permitted nearly all the others to be friends with you, but barred me out. I wanted to be your friend, too. I couldn't come to you as the others had, because I had insulted you. And Mr. Kent, if you knew half how much I suffered, and despised myself, for my insolence and rudeness, I think you would take pity on me, and forgive."
"I have nothing to forgive!" he declared, stoutly. "You said nothing more than the truth. You called me a money lender. I am. You said I came here to keep John Rhodes from losing his money. I did. Neither of us should be ashamed of the truth."
"But what of all the other things you have done?" she asked, curiously.
"The others don't matter. I have advised your brother as best I could because I liked him. He has very fine ideals. He has become a good king, and in time will become a great one. It was in him all the time; but he needed some one whom he trusted to give him plain horse-sense, and shape him to practicability. I don't really see how I could have acted differently."
"He gives you far more credit than you take," she said. "I think sometimes I am a little jealous of you. He talks of you so much. His enthusiasms are so great. He has changed so much. You and his work have absorbed him, and I am neglected! Treated like a child. No longer advised with or consulted. They all treat me that way, now! Not even Baron Von Glutz, or Paulo, can spare me a minute's time. I want to be something more than a doll baby in the affairs of Marken!"
"You are," he assured her, earnestly. "They recognise the part you have undertaken. They believe it as important as anything they are doing. You must not bother them. Keep a stiff upper lip and hoe your own row well!"
The princess gasped. It was the first time she had ever been told to keep a stiff upper lip. And, strangest of all, she enjoyed it. She began to understand, dimly, that in his attitude was no disrespect, but a mere intolerance for forms to which she had been accustomed, and that he bent his neck to no one, not through stubbornness, but because it was habitually held in complete independence. Once she had heard him remark that he was just a plain American, and that "the woods were full of his kind over there." Perhaps that accounted for his fearlessness, she thought, as she pictured all those Americans running through primeval forests and fighting red Indians.
She was annoyed when her duties as hostess called her back to the brilliantly-lit palace from which the music of the guards' band came seductively through the windows, and where she must appear and talk court platitudes with very gallant gentlemen in uniforms, who somehow never seemed to have much worth while to say.
It was nearly two weeks later when she again sought Kent, and this time she was in a state of angry alarm. She did not wait to be announced, so urgent was her haste to speak to him. She scarcely took time to respond to his friendly greeting.
"I've got news! Terrible news!" she exclaimed desperately. "It was told me by three different women, wives of men who work in the mines. Provarsk is stirring up a revolt on the new lines. He is encouraging the men to demand a share in the profits of the mine, and leads them to believe that if they can win this step, they can get anything they want."
She paused for breath, and was surprised that her news had so little effect on the American.
"Thank you," he said, "for coming to tell me about it; but I knew it already."
"And you are calmly letting him go ahead with this vile campaign?"
She could not understand such complacency.
"Yes," he said. "In fact I am surreptitiously encouraging him. Want to see just how far he can go. Things have been rather dull around here lately. Provarsk promises some entertainment."
He stared at the floor and his face softened by thought.
"It's great!" he declared before she could find speech. "Positively great! I knew you had it in you. By Jove! I knew it. "
She feared that something had grone wrong with his mentality and with an anxious, bewildered question strove to bring him back to realities.
"What do you mean? Great? I was talking of Provarsk 's treachery."
"I mean," he said, slowly and unreasonably embarrassed, "that you are great. Why, just think of it, Princess Eloise! You were told the news by the wives of three men who work in the mines! Don't you see how you have won them—the wives of the men who work in the mines? Would any of them have done so six months ago? Did any of them, six months ago, care enough for you, the royal princess, to be alarmed when anything threatened you or your house?"
She had not considered it in that light before. There was a change, and it had come so gradually, so imperceptibly, that she had been the last one to recognise it. Somehow, this knowledge that there were those in Marken who cared for her for her own sake, gave her a greater sense of security and bravery than she had ever known.
"Come," he said, gently, "what harm do you think a man like Provarsk capable of, now? Why, if I wanted to take the trouble, I could start whispers throughout the kingdom to-night that the real reason for his plotting is that he intends to seize the throne, and exile your brother and yourself, and the people—yes—the very ones that he is now stirring to make foolish demands, would tear him to pieces and feed them to their dogs!"
"But why not do it?" she demanded, with all the eagerness of a conspirator.
"Because," he said, slowly, "I don't want it done that way. I want to punish him in my own way. Also, because I enjoy watching him, just to learn how far he is capable. Why, if he can succeed, we ought to walk out! It would show that we are a lot of incompetents! If any other women talk to you of him, just tell them how grateful you are and forget it. Provarsk must have no inkling that I suspect him. I want that much understood. When the time is ripe—we shall see!"
After she had gone, the American sat for a long time alone, and staring absently through the open window as if made very happy by the knowledge that at last the princess was a real ally. Then, smiling grimly, he sent for Von Glutz, who happened to be accessible, and told his secretary that they were not to be disturbed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ASTRANGE lassitude seemed to have overtaken Kent. In direct contrast to his old habitual energy, he now loitered habitually, taking long walks alone, dreaming alone, like a man who, finding his task done, has no further ambition and devotes himself to useless meditation. For weeks he appeared apathetic; so much so that the king, industrious, and the others of that little cohort whose activities he had directed and stimulated were gravely concerned. They suggested that he needed a rest; that he must be ailing; that it were better if he sought change. And to all these suggestions he smiled gravely and shook his head.
"It's like this," explained Ivan to Paulo, in private conference. "There is something on his mind, some trouble, some worry, that none shall ever know. I can not understand it—I who for years have been his shadow, his right hand, his friend of thought and service. He has not confided in me, which in itself is strange! Were he a youth, I should say he was involved in a hopeless love affair; but, being what he is, a rock, a being as independent as the poles of the globe, I can not conceive what it is that has overtaken him!"
"And all the time," angrily asserted the Minister of Finance, "that Provarsk plots!"
It was true. And Kent, as well as his adherents, knew it; for Kent's sources of information brought him the constant and unanimous reports that the chancellor was adroitly using his time. The managers of the mines stated that the men were becoming daily more intractable and sullen, that nightly meetings were being held from which no information ever leaked, and that there was a growing unrest. There was no room to doubt that Provarsk was behind it all, and that Provarsk was carefully laying a powder train to cause an explosion; yet Kent, the master spirit of change, read the reports, or listened to them, and was lethargic.
Baron Von Glutz, the new enthusiast for road improvement, slipped hastily away to the outer world to inspect some new road-making machinery. Kent smiled at his enthusiasm. Paulo went to the other side of the toy kingdom to inspect work connected with his department. Again Kent smiled, and seemed happy to be left alone and unmolested.
And then, when least expected, Provarsk acted with his customary boldness. Kent, walking alone in the garden late one night, and absorbed in thought, was abruptly startled lay a soft crashing sound in the laurels on either side and suddenly realised that he was in the midst of a huge thicket where, if it came to a struggle, he would have but small chance. He whirled with the intention of running to a better field; but his foot caught on a rope that had been tied across the path, and he fell headlong. A man crashed through the bushes on one side and threw himself on Kent before the latter could regain his feet. He gathered his big powerful body that had in youth been inured by hard work and hard blattles with lumbermen, and threw himself quickly to one side, broke the hold on his arms with a sharp wrench, and rolled on top of his assailant. His hope had been to get to his feet; but the man beneath, disappointed in one way, took advantage of another and shifted his hold to Kent's neck. Instantly another adversary caught the American's heels and jerked his legs from under him so that he sprawled at length on the man in the path. Kent lifted his arm to strike and another man seized it strongly and clung to it. Kent's left fist struck this new assailant and elicited a grunt. Then, whilst he was trying to land a second blow, another man was added to the corps of assailants.
Kent fought so well that it took the best efforts of the four men to subdue him, after which he was immediately handcuffed, and lifted to his feet.
"What's the meaning of all this?" he demanded, between pants.
"It means that you are under arrest," growled a hoarse voice. "Bring him along, men!"
"But where are you taking me?" Kent insisted.
"You'll find that out soon enough," was the reply.
Kent walked doggedly along in silence and without further protest, and was led directly to the private entrance to the palace, thence upward to his offices, where, despite the warmth of the night, the shades were drawn and the room in a blaze of light. As soon as his eyes were accustomed to the change he beheld, through the open door of his private office, Provarsk lazily seated in his private chair, and saw that the drawers of the desk had been wrenched open and that numerous papers were scattered on the floor.
"Ah! Got him, did you?" the chancellor remarked to the soldiers conducting Kent. "You did well. Couldn't have done much better in fact; but I was rather in hopes he would fight sufficiently hard to make extreme measures necessary."
He smiled pleasantly and came into the other room. Kent looked at the men around him and sneered when he discovered they were some of Provarsk's original mercenaries, now become double traitors.
"However, it is just as well that you didn't have to—knock his brains out," the baron continued. "I find that the papers which are accessible are—not exactly those I wanted. Perhaps Mr. Kent will oblige us with the combination of his private vault?"
"Bless my soul! What an oversight!" Kent exclaimed. "You've not got the combination! Thoughtless of you. But, by the way, it would do you no good this evening, anyhow, Baron. It has the best time lock I could buy."
The baron walked over to the vault and inspected it, and it was evident that he was not familiar with such a modern device.
"Suppose you broke that clock off?" he inquired of Kent.
"Then even I could not open it," the American replied. "You may be certain that the vault will not open until after ten o'clock to-morrow."
"In that case all you can do is to give me the combination," said Provarsk, eyeing Kent insolently.
"For two centimes I wouldn't," Kent replied.
"And for two centimes, if you didn't, I'd throw you into a wet dungeon without food until you did," Provarsk promptly retorted.
"Um-m-m-h! By Jove! I believe you would," said Kent, admiringly, "and that being the case, I suppose I may as well give it to you."
"Exactly!" replied the chancellor. "Little courtesies will be duly appreciated."
"I've noticed that you were appreciative," Kent said, meaningly; "but inasmuch as I'm here and you are there, I don't see what else I can do but oblige. If you and my good faithful friends here are not afraid of me, perhaps you would kindly request them to remove this jewelry; otherwise I can't write."
Provarsk smiled at what he thought a sarcasm and asked the leading soldier if Kent had any weapons. On being assured that the American was unarmed the chancellor ordered the handcuffs removed.
"And let me caution you, Mr. Kent," he threatened, "that any attempt to escape or call for assistance may necessitate action on my part that I should regret to take. Furthermore it would be useless on your part, because there is no one in the palace who would attempt to assist you save the king and his royal sister, both of whom are now slumbering sweetly—with a guard outside their doors."
Kent looked about him as if seeking some one. Provarsk divined his look and added: "And that bear man of yours has also been taken in, and I believe is now nicely secured in one of the old dungeons. I hope one was selected where there are plenty of rats."
Kent looked at the leader of the mercenaries who stood stockily by him, and whose protruding eyes batted themselves at intervals and were devoid of expression.
"He's got to be taken out of that dungeon," Kent said, emphatically.
"To quote one of your own phrases, 'Nothing doing!'" retorted the conspirator.
"All right! Nothing doing in the combination line, either," stubbornly returned the American.
Provarsk grinned at him with the kindliness of a hungry wolf; but influenced by his prisoner's fearless stare, paused to consider.
"I'll tell you what I'll do," said Kent, "I'll compromise. You have your friends put Ivan in a comfortable cell, and I'll not only give you the combination, but my parole. I'll agree that you can take me to my own room, and that I'll not leave there without first notifying you that I intend to do so. How's that?"
"This is to be a gentleman's agreement, is it, Kent?" Provarsk asked.
"It is."
"All right," the conspirator replied, "I'll accept it. Whatever else you are, I'll admit your word is absolutely good. Give me the combination."
Kent walked across to his desk, sat down, and with a steady hand wrote it on a piece of paper, blotted it, and passed it to Provarsk. The latter smiled lazily, and turned to the leading soldier.
"You have heard the agreement," he said. "See to it that we keep our part. Have that Ivan put in the most comfortable place of confinement we have. Take Mr. Kent to his room, and see that he is not disturbed. Of course he has no objections to a guard outside his door?"
"Not in the least, " Kent assured him. "I like it. Keeps me from being lonesome. Sort of soothing in the dark. Now, before I retire, would you mind telling me what you are up to this time, and what it's all about?"
"Not in the least," said Provarsk with the same air of courtesy that was, in itself, akin to insult. "What I am up to is, first of all, to get rid of you. I'm going to put you out of the kingdom, and also I've taken steps to cut your claws. I secured the address of your employer, John Rhodes, at 65 Regent street, London, West, yesterday, and wrote him enclosing correspondence showing that you had not only made overtures to sell his concession to me, but had actually transferred it to me for a cash consideration, which I presumed was with his sanction. I explained that my object in writing was to have him remove you to other scenes of commercial activity, because you were personally obnoxious to His Majesty, the king, and also to me, the chancellor. Needless to say the correspondence I sent him proving the sale of the mining concession, was signed by yourself. Unmistakably so."
Kent's eyes opened with genuine astonishment. This was a more adroit invention than he had credited Provarsk with being able to devise. He had written to Rhodes and!
"You forged my name to those letters, eh?" he asked hotly. "Well, before I'm through with you I'll"
"Do nothing! You can't; you are helpless. I've got you, this time, my smart Yankee friend, and got you in such a way that you can't escape. When I kick you out of Marken, you can take your choice; be tried by John Rhodes as a defaulter and convicted on my evidence that the letters are genuine, or put as much distance as you can between yourself and your employer. That is immaterial to me, either way."
"But—but the king ! He will not submit to it!" declared Kent, on the defensive.
"The king? Poof! The king will do as I say, after this; otherwise, I'll send him trailing along after you in short order."
Kent's face was impassive.
"Take him to his room and let him think it over," ordered Provarsk, with a grin. " Goodnight, Mr. Richard Kent! I hope you have a very comfortable rest. I may call on you in the morning to assure myself of your comfort."
Kent, for once astonished at the man's ingenuity, turned and led the way out with never a word. Provarsk had proved a better enemy than he had believed him to be. He could but think of the letter and enclosures to John Rhodes and remember that the financier's reputation was that of being an inflexibly hard and unrelenting man whenever one of his underlings had proved delinquent. He tried to recall whether John Rhodes had always been just in such cases. Perhaps poor Barry, who had been sent to an American prison for something similar, had been a victim of some other Provarsk. And Simmons, the Englishman, when led from the dock to serve his sentence of three years hard labour, had protested his innocence to the very last. And both Simmons and Barry had been master agents, entrusted with great transactions, enjoying intimate acquaintance with John Rhodes! He looked very grave and preoccupied as they escorted him through the long, resounding corridors of the palace, dimly lighted, and suggestive of the long corridors of a prison where a man who was innocent of the crime for which he had been convicted, might helplessly eat his heart away. The very sound of their footsteps suggested the tread of warders and guards. A problem presented itself to him in which he attempted to stand aloof like an outside spectator, and speculate what John Rhodes, the richest and most feared man in the world, would do upon the receipt of such letters. Would he be tolerant and kind, or severe and unrelenting, with such evidence against Richard Kent, the trusted agent, who had at last yielded to a very great temptation and gone wrong?
His guard halted and opened a door. Kent walked through and closed it behind him. He was alone in his accustomed room with his problem. And then it occurred to him that there is such an influence as justice, and that justice will not be denied. There was a king. The king, though it cost him his throne—though it cost him everything he prized in the world—would under such circumstances find and confront Rhodes, and declare it all a lie. And Rhodes under those circumstances would be compelled to believe. Kent's long and varied training in reading men told him that the king would prove a loyal, fighting, steadfast friend, and that in such an outrageous, diabolical plan as Provarsk's, this would prove to be the weak point in the chancellor's armour.
Kent disrobed, bathed the dust of that stiff physical contest on the garden path from his face, and climbed into bed. To-morrow was merely to-morrow, to be met as his judgment dictated. Within ten minutes he was sleeping as soundly as if nothing mattered and he were but a tired boy.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KENT, breakfasting in his room, heard not only the singing of birds in the garden, but a persistent and increasing monotone of sound that pervaded everywhere, caused by the shuffling of many feet along the streets outside the palace walls, the indistinct hum of many voices, the grating of cart wheels over the roads, and an occasional shrill call rising above others. The atmosphere itself seemed charged and ready for a single spark to cause the explosion of revolt. At this hour of the morning, ordinarily, Marken would have been absorbed in industry, an industry that he had compelled and that had become habitual. This he thought, bitterly, was the result of too much prosperity. This was the price for arousing a slothful, shortsighted people and teaching them roads to wealth and ambition. The poorest churl in the fields had learned the value of his own earning power and profited, while others, who had been worse than hopeless, had seen the way to independence. Kent wondered if, after all, he had not taught them greed instead of industry, independence, and patriotism. He heard some one coming rapidly along the corridor, the guard's heels coming to a salute, and the door opened and the king entered, his whole personality radiating indignation.
"This is an outrage!" he declared. "I found a guard in front of my door this morning who told me of your arrest and confinement to your room. He made no objection to my coming here and so I came at once. We will go immediately and have Provarsk seized. Come!"
Kent slowly shook his head.
"I can not," he said. "I am under parole of honour to remain here."
The king stood aghast.
"You gave your word to that treacherous"
"Yes, and shall keep it."
"Then I will at once go alone and act. I'll"
"No, no; let us consider. " Kent checked him.
"But—but it may mean revolt! How do we know that he has not bribed or overcome enough of the guards; that"
"No fear," said Kent easily. "Some of them, perhaps; but I have certain reason to believe that on Baron Von Glutz' return there will be—um-m-mh—a change in the situation."
"But Kent! Kent! Are you mad?" demanded the king. "Time! Time is against us. You don't know what is happening! What do you think of this?" he cried, thrusting a paper toward the American.
Kent took it, said, "Have a seat, Your Majesty," and read. It was a proclamation with all official seals and form, calling upon the inhabitants, and especially those employed in the manganese mines, to assemble in the Market Place at eleven o'clock of that day, where communications of the utmost importance to their welfare and the welfare of the state would be made. Kent read it slowly to himself, gave a wry twist to his mouth, and looked at his visitor.
"I observe," he said, with quiet meaning, "that it does not end quite as royal decrees customarily do. It does not bear the words 'God save the King.'"
The king, who had been twisting impatiently on his chair, exclaimed, "No, it doesn't. I noted that point."
"When did this appear?" the American asked, recalling the hour when the attack had been made on him.
"It was posted up by the chancellor's orders between one and two o'clock this morning. The guard told me so."
"The guard, then, was friendly?"
"Yes, and very much distressed. He apologised to me, and said that he could but obey his orders; that he could not understand. I called him inside and closed the door, and told him to tell me all he knew. He did. He says that Provarsk has won over some of those adventurers he first brought here, and that they have been talking to all the others in the guard room."
"Did this man get any inkling of Provarsk's intentions?"
"Yes. Enough to cause him and all the others that are loyal to be highly alarmed. These passed the word around that they believed they could best serve the throne and you by obeying up to a certain point. They wish to know what to do."
"But Provarsk's intentions?" interrupted Kent, bringing the king back to the point.
"Provarsk is going to announce this morning that the mining concession has been turned over to him, wrested from you and John Rhodes in behalf of the people by him, and he will promise that hereafter the profits shall be shared by those who do the work. After that he proposes to inflame the people to demonstrate in force and demand of me that a like course shall be pursued with all other state holdings, and that those which the state does not completely own shall be returned to the original or minority owners to be run hereafter without state interference. My guard gathered all this from stray talk made by Provarsk's henchmen, who, already certain of success, are beginning to boast of the authority they are going to have."
Kent's eyes glowed with interest.
"That guard of yours," he declared, "is due for a good commission after this is over. I seem to have overlooked him." He meditated for a moment, and then to the king's surprise, as if vastly relieved, leaned back in his chair and laughed.
"Amateur work, after all!" he declared. "I'm disappointed! Provarsk had me guessing, last night. I thought he was a much cleverer fighter than I had believed him to be. He always boggles in the end."
"I don't see the joke!" exclaimed the king, but more hopefully.
"Why, it is this way," explained Kent. "Plain as day now. He poses as a national benefactor, but no one would be able to tell, if he did actually get possession of the mines, what the profits are. He probably would divide up some of the profits as long as it served his purpose. And after that!" He snapped his fingers derisively. "In the meantime he insures my being driven from Marken, and forces you to turn over everything that produces an income; also to let government controlled private industries revert to those private individuals who own the outside stock. That includes the Marken mineral springs in which he has invested every dollar he has in the world, and all he could borrow. It's so easy now that it's scarcely interesting!"
"But the people don't know that you have the concession," objected the king. "They think I still own the mines for the state, and that the profits have been turned to the redemption of the state bonds; and they are confident that after the bonds are redeemed I'm going to spend more money for the good of the state. The minute Provarsk exposes the whole affair, they will lose confidence in me and my intentions."
The American regarded the king's distress with sympathy.
"But, suppose you had never granted the concession, and that you did own the mines, free from everything?"
"As soon as your bonds have been met, I'd give them the profits—all of them! You certainly know that I do care for my people and am unselfish! I want to be just what they have thought me to be, Kent, the best king that Marken ever had! I want to be able to do again what I have done, walk out amongst them, and know that they respect me as a king, and like me as a man and a friend."
He spoke impassionedly, voicing the hunger of his mind, confessing his dream, while the American watched him kindly as an elder brother might watch the harassments of a younger one when about to tender sympathy and assistance.
"All right!" he said, bluntly. "I think we can fix that up. It may be foolish on my part—damned foolish! But a man can't pass through this world without being foolish once in a while. I'm going to give you that concession."
The king's face expressed many emotions, and among them solicitous affection.
"But—but Rhodes?" he asked excitedly. "What will Rhodes think of you?"
"I've got to take my chances of squaring it with him. Most always he does about as I want him to. I've made a lot of money for John Rhodes, one time and another, and he knows it. Besides, I am going to tell you something. The last penny that Marken owed John Rhodes, together with two per cent interest, was paid him more than a week ago. If, after all that, he kicked, he'd be more of a dog than I ever suspected him of being. "
The king, stupefied by the news that he was free from debt, gasped, but Kent disregarded him.
He got up and locked the door to make certain that he would not be disturbed, walked briskly across the room to a book case, and spoke with the proud delight of an ingenious boy.
"Come here," he said. "I want to show you something. Pretty clever, I call it. My own idea. Ivan and I did most of the work. Now look over here. On this side of the room, right under the mantel—see this marble ornament? Well, it's nothing but a plain, common old American electric latch; the kind we have over home when we live on the top flat and want to open the ground floor door for a caller. Push on it!"
The king, still speechless, did so. There was a sharp click, and the book case swung away from the wall, exposing a modern safe behind it. The king's eyes were wide with curiosity.
"That's the way she works," Kent exclaimed, proudly. "Thought it out myself, for emergencies. I haven't kept any papers of importance in the vault of my office for more than three months. I'd give a hundred dollars to watch Provarsk when he opens it with the combination I gave him last night. It's quite empty."
He chuckled as he bent over and twirled the knob, pulled the heavy door open, brought out a drawer and took from it a piece of paper that the king recognised. He opened it and glanced at it to make certain of its identity, held it before the king to show what it was and then deliberately tore it to shreds, which he threw into the fireplace and lighted.
"There goes the concession," he said, gazing at the flames. "The manganese are yours, unmortgaged, free from all debt and all obligations."
He turned with a warm smile on his face, and silenced the king, who began remonstrating.
"I'll tend to my part of it," he said. "It's up to you to do yours. Let me handle the situation here. You must rush back to your rooms, summon the heralds, get into your state glory so as to be more impressive than Solomon, and hurry down to the Market Place."
He consulted his watch.
"You've no time to lose. If I were you I'd not let them know but that you personally summoned them. You'd better go now, and, whatever you do, don't let Provarsk know you've been here."
He fairly shoved the king toward the door, hushing his protestations of gratitude with a gruff—"We can talk about all that later. Not now! Not now! Hurry!"
He carefully closed the safe and swung the book case back into its normal position, after which, for some minutes, he stood scowling thoughtfully out over the garden, as if formulating new plans, and then walked slowly across to the door and opened it.
"I'd like to speak to you," he said to the guard. "Come inside."
The man hesitated, looked up and down the corridor and grinned. Kent was secretly pleased and knew that he was not mistaken in his surmise that one who had always been ready to betray for money would do so again to the highest bidder. The man entered and closed the door behind him, with a look of cupidity in his eyes.
"You are out for money!" Kent said brusquely. "I'm going to make it worth your while to go at once, get my man Ivan and bring him here. You can tell the sentry it's Provarsk's order. If you do that within the next fifteen minutes, you get five thousand francs in gold and no one the wiser. Can you do it?"
The man took another look into the corridor, seemed satisfied, and said: "How will you pay me?"
"You know that I keep my word, don't you?" Kent retorted. "I tell you I'll pay you the minute Ivan is in this room!"
The mercenary hesitated, scratched his head and took the plunge. He ran on tiptoe down the hall. Kent hastened to his secret safe, and took therefrom some rolls of coin and waited. His bribe was effective, for within the time Ivan appeared and the guard took the bribe money with a chuckle and left them.
"Ivan," Kent said in the soundless speech he employed when they were alone, "I rather think that, within a short time, Provarsk will be here and our interview may not be pleasant. Go into my dressing room there and leave the door ajar sufficiently to observe what takes place. If he gets ugly, I may need you."
"I understand," said the giant, nodding his head. "And I shall be there if needed. Is that all?"
"Yes," replied Kent, "that's all. And, Ivan, be wary of him if you do have to come out. I don't believe that man likes you! 'Pon my word I don't! And if he could, he might try to hurt you. "
Ivan's mouth opened into a wide grin, as he went to Kent's dressing room and pulled the door carefully shut, save for a tiny crack. Kent paced restlessly about the room, pausing once to admire, absently, as he had done a hundred times before, the intricate carvings of a huge wooden screen, that formed a snug little corner. Time was moving and he wondered why Provarsk did not appear, for he confidently expected him. Had that astute gentleman discovered the counter move that was being made against him, and taken steps for its circumvention? It did not seem possible.
With brisk elation he heard a tap on the door and when the sentry entered looked expectantly over his shoulder, confident that Provarsk was there.
"Her Royal Highness, the Princess Eloise," announced the sentry, and the American was troubled as he bade the man open the door for her, and himself moved toward it.
She entered hurriedly and closed the door behind her. Her anxiety and excitement were marked.
"Tell me," she said, hastily advancing, "what has taken place. Karl had no time. He told me to come here and ask you. Why is there a sentry?"
"Princess Eloise," he said quietly, "I am under arrest by Provarsk's orders; but your brother and I have taken steps that will render him very harmless."
She looked at him with pronounced consternation that was augmented when he added, "Steps also that render my remaining longer in Marken unnecessary, so I shall soon be going."
"In the midst of such an emergency?"
"I do not believe it will be an emergency very long," he said, gravely. "And I do not believe that after to-day I shall be needed. Therefore I expect to leave Marken within a few days."
"But you can't!" she insisted, desperately.
A slow change came over his face, the change that his intimates in big affairs would have called his "Poker face," a face that would be wooden regardless of whatever depression, elation, craft or plan passed through his mind.
"Nevertheless," he replied, quietly, "I am going!"
"Surely not!" she expostulated. "I don't believe it. It's as if you were beaten—were running away!"
"Perhaps it may look that way—now," he said, watching to see the effect of his words.
The princess' distress increased. Her hands came together, and he saw that her slender fingers had interlocked as though by this grip to obtain strength for repression. He would have given all that was his to have caught them in his own strong palms and to have comforted, soothed, and reassured her, but he dared not. He had schooled himself to the knowledge that from her viewpoint he was but a capable money lender, possibly a good friend, while she was that product of nurturing and breeding, a princess royal. His rebellion at this condition brought out a trifle of that controlled savagery that made him strong.
"Why should I stay here any longer," he asked, "when all I came to do is done? I have paid John Rhodes every cent of his money. That was my mission, was it not? That and nothing more."
She lifted her head and regarded him with astonishment. His immobile face bespoke no inward hesitation. Nothing but calm purpose. He was inscrutable. She sustained a conflict of emotions, but all her respect and liking, so slowly up-built, were wounded by his words.
"I thought," she said hesitantly, "that you had remained for something more—than that. I thought friendship, a liking for a great work, a happiness in doing something worth while, had been reasons."
He smiled but did not answer. She interpreted his silence as an admission that she had been mistaken in her estimate of him, and that he had been imbued with nothing but selfish motives. She spoke regretfully, now, and he saw that her reserve was breaking; that, tried and distressed, she was giving way.
"I thought we meant something to you, my brother and I! And I tried to be worthy of what I thought you were. I believed you to be the greatest man I had ever known! Karl would have done anything for you. I would"
She paused, twisted her fingers still harder and then looked at him with eyes like those of a hurt child, candid, outspoken in humiliated confession. "I would have given anything to have you be my friend, as you have been Karl's." She paused, bit her lip, then impetuously clenched her hands and with sheer recklessness added, "I would have given much more—to have helped you—always. If you had failed and been beaten, honourably fighting, I would have liked to go to you, and put my hand in yours, and walk with you in defeat! I was sick of illusion—of sham royalty—of polite lies! I wanted your esteem! Yours! all of it! And now, I despise myself for it!"
She stopped, choked by her own humiliation, and looked at him; but his eyes were on the floor, his hands hanging listlessly open, his heavy shoulders and stalwart frame inert, and passive, as if all she had confessed, and all her scorn, were not capable of moving him. For a long time she stood thus, quivering, while he stood dumbly before her. The chirping of birds in the sunlit gardens outside, the slow measured footsteps of the sentry in the corridor without, and that ominous, distant hum of Marken itself came to them accentuated in volume by their own silence. The echoes of her voice, like the appealing sobs of disillusionment coming from a hurt heart, died away like the last faint sounds of a requiem. Dumbly, like one astounded by some overwhelming surprise, he lifted his head and met her eyes. All the old bravery was gone from them. Gone, too, all the old mockery, the old readiness of response, the quick acceptation of overchanging chance. Something in their great seriousness, in their very depths, made her catch her breath. She saw that he was humbly, yet desperately, fighting to speak; that words were being sought and that none satisfied.
There was a clamorous, insolent note added to that murmuring diapason of sound that swept monotonously through the room, the sound of some one clanking his way through the outer corridor. It stormed his ears like the call of a trumpet announcing battle. It whirled him back to his own sphere of action, where men were to be met, where a fight, the fight he knew as a veteran, was imminent. His hands shot forward and caught hers, and his big body became endowed with a suggestion of bent steel, alive, ready to spring. He was the master again.
"Listen!" he commanded her, his words crowding one upon the other. "Go quickly behind that screen and sit down! Hurry! Sit there and hear what is said. Say nothing! My honour in your eyes may depend upon it—and that—is more to me than everything else in the world."
He caught her by the shoulders in his strong hands, whirled her, bewildered, across the few steps intervening, thrust her into an easy chair behind the screen, and was out again toward the door through which Provarsk was entering and which he locked behind him. She heard Kent's voice, cool, casual, greeting his sole opponent.
"Well," it said, "I've been expecting you. Did you open that vault yet?"
Provarsk laughed; but not with mirth.
"Yes, I opened it. And found just what I rather expected. Nothing."
"Disappointed?" queried the American, with cool insolence.
"Not much," came the ready reply with equal coolness. "The way you passed the combination over was—well—significant. "
"Suppose we sit down," Kent suggested. "We've got quite a lot of things to discuss, haven't we?"
"That depends on you. Of course if you are quite amenable I seem to be in the position of strength. I'll listen to anything you've got to offer."
"You'll listen? That's good. If you only came to listen, why did you come at all? Say, Provarsk! You don't think I'm fool enough to believe you came here merely on a polite visit, do you? Just because you wanted to hear the sweet sound of my voice? You came because I've got things you want. Things you think I might trade. Things that if you don't get, might upset your little pile of bricks and tip you over into the gutter. Come, let's not try to play blind man's buff. What are you after? What card do you need to fill your flush?"
"Pretty fair talk for a man who is shut in his own room under arrest," commented Provarsk. "What is it the English call it—Swank. Yes, that's it. Bluff, I think you style it, you Yankees."
"Not at all, " Kent insisted, seriously. "A real bluff is where you haven't got the goods, but try to make the other fellow believe you have. Swank, on the contrary, is merely an exaggeration of what you possess. Neither word is applicable, because I've got what you have to have. I under arrest? Poof! That's nothing, because I've got what is known as the moral supremacy, the initiative. Also because you are afraid of me and that I might possibly kick your apple cart with a lot of freckled wares into the garbage pile."
"Good!" gaily responded the baron. "Quite good! Nothing like frank admission to get to a business basis, is there? You can make it a lot more certain for me. And in return I can at least make it certain that you shall have a chance to wander farther afield with a whole hide."
"And if I don't prove agreeable?" questioned Kent.
"Then," declared the conspirator, with a great air of regret, "I am afraid you won't wander anywhere at all. About the cheapest thing in Marken is a lot in the cemetery."
"Um-m-mh," mused the American. "If you are so certain of your ground, I can't quite see why you bother with me. You wouldn't do it. No, indeed! You'd order the lot."
"Right again," cheerfully agreed the baron.
"Well, then let's get down to brass tacks. What are you after?"
Provarsk got up and began to move abont the room, much to Kent's disturbance.
"Sit down," he said. "I don't like to talk business to a man who is running a race with himself." Provarsk sat down and came straight to the point.
"I can get your transfer of that mining concession whether you give it or not," he said, meaningly.
"In the same way you got my signatures to letters I never wrote, eh?"
"Exactly," admitted Provarsk, with a grin. "But it might save some further trouble with your employer, John Rhodes, if I actually got the transfer from you."
"I believe you are right about that," Kent agreed. "But you haven't yet explained where I come in. I'm not fool enough to believe you are doing this for the good of the state, you know."
"Of course I'm not!" Provarsk declared, contemptuously. "I'm doing it for my own good and no one's else."
"How do you propose to handle the king?" demanded Kent.
"He'll have to do what I want him to, for the simplest of reasons, that I shall have the people behind me. He'll get nothing! He can be king. That's enough for him."
"Yes?" said Kent, invitingly. "Now about me, You have already written to Rhodes. Do I get nothing, too?"
"That's just what I'm coming to," observed the baron. "You've been a good gamester, but you've lost, all the way round. You and I agree on just one thing, which is that either of us keeps his word when he can do so. That's right, isn't it?"
"Yes, I think it is."
"Then if I gave you my word as a gentleman on anything, you'd accept it, wouldn't you?"
"I think I should."
"Very well, that simplifies matters. The king has been getting ten per of the net revenues from the mines. From now on he gets nothing, and you shall have five per cent hereafter, to be forwarded to you wherever you choose to hide from Rhodes, provided that you give me that concession. Only, of course, you've got to stay away from Marken. That's understood in any event."
With a studied air of deliberation Kent looked up at the ceiling, until Provarsk began to move restlessly.
The latter consulted his watch and got hastily to his feet.
"I've no further time to waste in politeness," he declared, with sharp emphasis. "I shall give you just five minutes more in which to decide."
"Why this haste? Got anything important to do?" asked Kent in bland surprise.
"I have," asserted the baron, crisply.
"Well, Provarsk, you can spare yourself the trouble," said Kent with the utmost sarcasm. "I know your full plans. I even surmised you might try to seize me and instructed Von Glutz, who, by the way, will be on hand with sufficient strength to act this very morning, that unless it became a question of saving my life he was not to interfere with you. With the exception of perhaps a half dozen men, the palace guard is still loyal and awaiting my orders. I could have summoned assistance last night with a single call!"
Provarsk looked incredulous. He concealed the fear that slowly gripped him, and snapped his fingers.
"Bluffing again," he said. "Come, my time is up."
"Going to read a proclamation to the people, or anything like that? If so you may as well save yourself the trouble. By this time the king is already reading his."
Provarsk's face, at this statement, went white with rage.
"You lie!" he shouted.
"I don't," calmly disputed Kent, in his turn arising to his feet. "I've already returned him his concession and he is by this time presenting the manganese mines, gratis, to the citizens of Marken. Another thing! You needn't worry about what John Rhodes might do to me. I happen to be John Rhodes, myself! You are"
There was a shout, a curse, a woman's scream and a pistol shot sounding together in confusion. Provarsk, infuriated, had whipped a gun from his pocket so unexpectedly that Ivan had not time to reach him; but the princess had, with desperation, flung the screen heavily against Provarsk's arm, and the bullet, deflected from its mark, spattered itself in minute particles of flying lead over the tiled floor. Outside, the sentry battered clamourously on the stout door. In the debris of the screen two men now struggled furiously, Ivan and Provarsk, the latter striving with desperate intent to twist his pinioned hand once more in Kent's direction, and swearing that, no matter what happened, he would at least kill him. His persistence angered the giant, who had seized his forearm, and now threw him to the floor. With a roar like that of a charging lion he seemed for the first time to exert his full strength. He was unswerving and pitiless. His huge right shoulder suddenly lifted until the muscles of his neck were swollen and rigid, there was the harsh snap of breaking bones, an agonised scream from Provarsk, and Kent leapt forward.
"Ivan! Ivan!" he shouted, forgetting that the latter could not hear. The princess backed away against the wall, with a stare of fascinated, expectant horror; for Ivan, with all the hatred he had sustained for the chancellor unleashed, was intent on killing him this time, regardless of Kent's entreaties. He snatched the pistol from the floor and despite Kent's efforts planted the muzzle against Provarsk's temple. He tried to discharge it; but in his haste had unwittingly thrown the safety clutch. Provarsk, helpless beneath him, glared upward with eyes that did not quail. The curious, reckless, fearless daring of the man did not desert him in the least now that he was at the end. Kent caught Ivan's arm in both his own, but the enraged giant threw him off, dexterously dropped the pistol, caught it by the muzzle, and lifted his arm high above his head intent on crushing Provarsk's skull with the butt of the weapon. Quick as light, Kent saw his opportunity, and caught the upraised wrist from behind, threw all his weight against it, and slowly bent Ivan sidewise from over his victim. The giant, though taken at this disadvantage, yielded only inch by inch, overborne by the strength of Kent that, with any ordinary man, would have been overpowering. Kent's jaws were set until the muscles of his cheeks shone in knots and his eyes were aflame.
"Let me kill him! For God's sake, don't interfere!" Ivan shouted, and then, pleading for the privilege of destroying Provarsk, was toppled over, breathing hoarsely, and looking up into Kent's face. Slowly the red flame burned out of his eyes, as he recovered control of himself. The pistol fell from his hand, and the princess, with a spring as graceful as a leopard's seized it and retreated to a safe distance.
"Promise me that you will not hurt him, Ivan! I tell you not to! Are you mad, man?"
"I promise," said Ivan, sullenly, but relaxing himself, and Kent arose. Ivan got slowly to his feet, with a stare of hatred and defeated intent at Provarsk, who was painfully trying to extricate himself from the pieces of splinted screen.
Kent put his hand firmly, but gently, beneath him and assisted him to his feet, and then to a chair. There was no need to ask his condition. The loosely swinging arm told its own story.
The door gave way under a fresh onslaught and several guardsmen fell into the room. Behind them could be seen two others holding Provarsk's mercenary between them. Kent smiled grimly and said, "Thank you, men; but I do not require your help. Pull what's left of the door shut and at once go and arrest or kill Provarsk's hired men. Leave one man on guard outside in case I want him."
They saluted and obeyed with convincing alacrity.
"Provarsk," said Kent, "I'm very sorry! I didn't wish that done to you."
"That's all right, Rhodes, or Kent, if you prefer it. It's nothing to what I wanted to do to you," gamely retorted the baron.
"Or nothing compared to what Ivan wanted to do to you," remarked Kent.
"Why didn't you let him finish it? In your place I should have done so," Provarsk asserted, without rancour, and clutching his shattered arm.
"Because," declared Kent, with quiet dignity, "I have punished you enough. You are finished as it is. Somehow, I'm sorry! You're a game man, Baron, and—I like them. I shall send for a surgeon."
"Oh, may as well put that off for a few minutes," the chancellor said, wincing with a physical pain that barely exposed itself in his level voice. "May as well tell me the worst."
"There's not much more to tell," Kent said, gently. "Only that I've beaten you past any chance of your coming back. By this time you are not even the chancellor, I think. I fancy Von Glutz, the loyal, has come back to his own. And you are broke. Broken like an empty egg shell!"
Provarsk shut his teeth, tried to get his arm to a less painful position, attempted a brave smile, and said, "I think not. The Marken Mineral Company, my dear Mr. Rhodes"
"Is worthless! I couldn't quite forgive your trying to bribe my secretary, Provarsk. That wasn't playing the game. I went after you on that. It's a rule of finance to get a man who tries to bite your leg under the table. I got you! The only unprofitable, completely worthless enterprise in Marken, is the one in which you've put every dollar you could get. I saw to that. I kept it going at a total loss just for your benefit. You're not worth a copper centime. You'll have to borrow money to buy your railway ticket out—unless—unless I relent. Maybe I shall. There are a lot of things I like about you. There are a lot of places where I can use brave men, if they are willing to be honest, and you are at least brave."
"I don't think," said the baron, biting his lip to hide his mental and physical pain, "that I can accept anything from you; but I will say this—just to show you that in my way I am fair—if I can ever learn this game you play—this thing of finance, and I can find any way to have another go at you, I'll do it! And—and while I'm doing it, all the time, I'll like and admire you, and{[bar|2}}" He shut his teeth savagely in a determined effort to subdue the giddiness and weakness that was mastering him, and then, with a long sigh, fell sideways and would have fallen to the floor had not Kent leapt forward and caught him in his arms.
He picked him up as if he were of no weight, and strode across the room, followed by the princess, and Ivan, whose eyes had roved from lip to lip seizing the spoken words.
"Princess Eloise," the American called anxiously over his shoulder, "please summon some one to help me. And also a surgeon. Send them to my private room. And—and—" he stammered desperately—"wait for me—here!"
Her face flushed, as if, in this turmoil, she had interpreted some hidden significance in his words; but she ran across the room, called the sentry from the corridor, and Kent heard her words.
"Send two men from the guard room at once to assist Mr. Kent. Then go—quickly—as fast as you can, and summon the court surgeon. Hurry! Mr. Kent asks you to. Go quickly!"
Ivan closed the door, dumbly, and the sound of her voice was cut off.
"Here, Ivan," Kent's lips moved as he turned his head toward his follower from the side of his own bed on which he had deposited the chancellor. "Help me to get his clothes off, while he is unconscious. You should not have done this. I can't fire you, because after a fashion you and I are pals. But I'd give a thousand dollars to be big enough to take it out of your hide, you big, ill-tempered chump!"
And Ivan, knowing a lot that was not embodied in his employer's speech, and having absorbed that strange but true philosophy of Owen Wister's conveyed through the Virginian, merely grinned and began unlacing the baron's shoes.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE PRINCESS ELOISE tiptoed to the shattered hall door, and, with infinite care, passed through and closed it behind her. Then, hesitant, perturbed, distressed, she looked down the long reaches, lonely as a deserted avenue, as if considering a direction for flight. She paused, torn between the tugging hand of convention and desire, that dragged her in diverse ways. Convention urged her that she was of the blood of proud and lasting kings, certain to find her place upon some potent throne, inevitably destined to rule, endowed by nature, and trained religiously to that small caste whose slightest wish becomes a necessity with the people beneath. But desire cried aloud that all was vain, all happiness lost, the world barren, the future a desert, if now she closed her ears to the cry of her heart. A choice of queendom lay before her; one over a vast number whom she might serve, and assist, with a high nobility of purpose, and the other over one subject, a strange, brusque, many-sided man who would give of strength, and soul, and fealty, all that he had to give and if need be, uncomplainingly as a duty, reverently as a sacrifice, his life.
Life stretched before her like the corridor, in two directions, each leading from the other. Steadily, with clear eyes and clarity of mind, she weighed one route against the other, and then, with bent head, and tremulous breath, she made her decision. She turned, retraced her steps, opened the door very gently, stepped inside the room she had left, and closed the door behind. Kent, grave, embarrassed, and yet determined, came but a moment later from his sleeping chamber, and closed the door leading to it; but not with his habitual directness and decision. This was not the man she had seen confidently striding his way, staring direct with the radiation of personal power and purpose, intent on some goal beyond other eyes. Instead, there was about him a curious attitude of awkwardness, appeal and reverence, a strange lack of confidence. For an instant only she forced herself to meet his eyes. They cried their message to hers across the silent, waiting room. The sounds of the outside world, in which that day the future of a nation was being irrevocably decided, became hushed and still. She seemed to hear in that same soundless silence the struggle of his mind as it fell upon and conquered his tongue. Forced by decision to meet this portentous issue, she heard him coming toward her. His voice sounded as if reaching her from a long distance, so quiet, so gentle, so grave it was in this decisive moment of its existence.
"You," it said, "are a princess. I am nothing, save that which I am—a man who has done his best. A plebeian man, Princess Eloise, because all that I have tried and all that I have done, may seem insignificant in your eyes. But what I am, I am."
The voice paused in that time she stood with hands crossed above her breast not daring to lift her eyes to his; paused as if gathering power to find the way.
"I should not dare to speak," it proceeded, more firmly, "had you not said what you did a while ago. You said that you would have given anything for———" he hesitated and spoke scarcely above a whisper, as if a repetition of her words were profanation, as if he, a penitent, approached slowly on hands and knees to confession. "You said that you would have given anything for my friendship, for my esteem! That you had wanted to help me—always!" He spoke the last word like one reading the ultimate word of life from the open book of destiny, laid once before us all. "Oh, Eloise!" he cried with a tenderness beyond all she had dreamed, "I am like that poor, foolish juggler of Notre Dame, who, unable to do more than juggle gay balls upon his hands and feet, yet dared toss them at the shrine of Our Lady, and thus gave all he had to give! I am helpless! I am nothing, in this fight—the only one from which I've ever flinched. I wanted to go before I gave myself away; but you said—you said———"
He stopped and she knew that the poet soul of him that had been so scrupulously concealed from all the world, was bursting its way, released by the alchemy of love, to his last abashed declaration. She waited intent on what he might say, this man who had posed through all his life as one without sentiment, hard, inflexible, masterful, and who now for the first time was stripping nude his spirit.
"Do you know," he said, "I've always been ashamed of something that I liked something I read. It seemed too fine to say aloud; but it's what I want to say now:
"I am he that cries aloud beneath your gates,
"With eyes uplifted to the moon, the night, your castle walls.
"No beggar I for paltry dole! No suppliant for paltry favours,
"Worthless, ephemeral, and indifferently thrown.
"I ask all you have; all you have been; all you are;
"All that you may ever be.
"I am that throbbing thing of love,
"Venturesome, calling for its own."
There was a child's bashfulness and simplicity in his declamation. He spoke as if ashamed to voice those inner and concealed sentiments that he had so studiously veiled throughout his life. Nothing hut the quick knowledge that she had seen him as he was in truth, kept her from laughing at him. And then there came to her the realisation, not without a sense of triumph, that she knew, beyond all others, this strange, reticent, retiring man whose very name had been feared by some of those esteemed as powerful. That of her alone, in all the world, he stood in awe.
"If I had known then who—who you really were" she faltered. "If—if I had not been so terribly disappointed, I should not have said what I did."
She paused; but without ever looking up at him she knew that he recoiled as from a blow. And then, bravely, she took the plunge, and added in a voice that was scarcely louder than the exquisite sound of the wind's fingers playing upon a harp, "But now that I know my mistake, and that you have not been defeated, I—I have nothing to retract."
She heard him coming slowly toward her, and lifted her eyes to his grim, rugged, homely face, and beheld it transfigured like the top of some weather-scarred crag suddenly illumined by sunlight. The warmth and majesty of a great love were there, the imperative will to seize, and to shield, and the longing to prove worth by sacrifice.
He would have taken her hand, awkwardly, as some poor courtier might; but nothing less than full relinquishment was in her heart. And so she lifted her arms swiftly upward, caught his face for a long moment between her hands, looked deeply into his eyes and then, contented with what she saw, bent farther toward him, and was caught and held.
Forgetful of all else, deaf to all else, they had not heard the roaring tumult that came sweeping toward the palace, increased in the crescendo of proximity, and that now suddenly burst overwhelmingly upon their ears in terrifying volume. It sounded as if something had gone wrong; as if revolt had in full strength rushed upon them. They turned and hastened to the window. The great garden of the palace had been invaded by a mob of people, the foremost of whom rushed excitedly to places beneath the windows, while, rapidly, other waves surged behind, closed in, and became more dense until even the walls were mounted by upthrown crests. For a moment it was difficult to distinguish the character of that tremendous shouting, or to know whether menace or approval was the dominant note. And then, suddenly, a red-faced man who had been crowded into the basin of a fountain climbed triumphantly to its top, where he stood silhouetted against the sky, waved his arms, and in a stentorian voice that swept over all else began to sing the national anthem. Instantly other voices took it up, until to the beating of time by that lone figure aloft it became united, and overpowering, battering the walls, the trees, and the skies with stately blows. The lips of the Princess Eloise quivered and her eyes filled with tears of emotion. Kent felt his hands clenching as he caught the meaning, and knew that it was an ovation to the king; but even then he could not understand why the giving of the mines had so stirred the people. His door was jerked open unceremoniously, and the king ran in, followed by Paulo and Von Glutz, all appearing scarcely less excited and jubilant than those below.
At sight of his sister and Kent, the king waved his state sword above his head and saluted the hilt with his lips.
"Marken! Marken!" he shouted as gallantly as any of his mailed ancestors might have done when announcing victory after battle.
"What have you done?" demanded Kent, once more the cool man of affairs.
"I've gone you one better, my friend, and acted without any one's advice. I've not only done as you suggested, but I've taken a long step farther. I've told them that, without their asking it, and because I have faith in them, I surrender all arbitrary rights of the crown and that from this time henceforth Marken is to be a liberal government, in which the people are to exercise their own judgment and powers, and that not even England herself can boast of greater freedom and democracy. I've given them their liberty. Marken is no longer an autocracy!"
He paused, proud of the effect he had produced, and saw the great approval that shone from his sister's eyes; but, before he could proceed, the doughty old Von Glutz took up the tale.
"That's not all! He didn't tell you all!" he roared. "His Majesty ended by telling them that if they chose they could even do away with a king and make Marken a republic. That was when they first shouted so loudly, and what they yelled was, 'No! No! God save the king! God save Karl the Great!' And—by the Lord Almighty! They meant it! They stormed the platform. They lifted him up and carried him in their arms. Old women cried and knelt at his feet. They held their dirty babies up for him to touch. And then some of the women began to shout, 'God save the Princess Eloise!' and that started them all off again. The king got himself heard at last and told them that the credit was not his. That they owed it all to you, Kent. And then Karl did a fool thing. Told them that you two were here and that the palace grounds were open. Listen! Hear that!"
The song had ceased and great shouts were again storming them.
"The Princess Eloise! Our Princess Eloise!" and "Kent! Kent! Kent!"
They saw him, the man who loathed publicity, quail like a bashful youth, and saw the princess catch his hand and almost drag him toward the balcony. Then he seemed to recall something that must be done and braced himself, and strode forward. He stopped abruptly just inside the door and motioned to the king. The king smiled and stepped out, followed by the princess. Like the abrupt discharge of heavy guns the noise renewed as Kent followed them, and Von Glutz and Paulo, rigid, unmoved, came behind and took their posts in the background like watch dogs of state.
Kent stepped to the edge of the balcony and lifted his hand for silence, the same heavy, unfaltering man that had addressed them on one other occasion, when he mentally derided them and then disappeared. Again, as then, his great voice reached them like some enormous trumpet; but now there was nothing of cynicism or demagoguery in his words, no jesting with their ignorance.
"His Majesty Karl Second"
"God Save Karl the Great!" they corrected him.
"—has told you that you owe much of what has been to-day given you, to me. With all respect for His Majesty's word, I wish to tell you, flatly, that it is not so. I did nothing. You owe it all to him. All I did was to advise regarding the employment of your industries. I approve of his grant of self-government, for I am an American; but I am as surprised as were you that he gave so freely."
They interrupted him with cheers, while he stood watching them, and evidently waiting to add something more.
"You owe me nothing," he declared. "But to others you owe much. You owe Her Royal Highness, the Princess Eloise, for her advice" and again they interrupted him with cheers.
"You owe to a much misunderstood man, a nobleman, steadfast, loyal and true, a great payment for his unfaltering devotion to the king, to you and to his duty; and to his plain honesty you are indebted beyond all words. I speak of Baron Von Glutz!"
He did not look around in that mad interim when again they shouted; but had he done so would have seen that the baron was for once abashed to dumbness. All that he, plain, simple old man, had ever asked, was to serve as best he might, careless of reward.
"Beyond this," continued the voice, "you must not forget the services of as good a Minister of Treasury as has ever conducted the affairs of a people or a king, Captain Philidor Paulo."
In a cheering mood, they cheered again.
"And from now on you owe it to yourselves, and your king, to those who have done the best they could for you, to make, by continued industry and integrity, the kingdom of Marken great. The king has made no mistake. You were not fit to conduct yourselves a year ago. Many of you were idle, lazy and indifferent. It required the inflexibility of an autocrat to arouse you. An autocrat is, after all, but a nurse. Once the necessity for a nurse passes, it passes for all time. You are a nation now, known and respected by the whole world. It rests with you whether that respect shall continue, and respect is a thing that accumulates or diminishes in just proportion to your deeds. It does not stand still. The respect given a nation is not measured by the breadth of its lands, or by what it owns. It is measured by the acts of the individuals who compose it. No man dare act otherwise than as a representative of his nation. On him individually rests the good name of his nation. He, as a unit, is as responsible for its reputation, as is the king himself. It is by his individual acts that his country is estimated. I ask you to remember my words and to consider them when alone, that you may find the right way, in this hour of your assumption of great responsibilities, to each adjust his own personal life to the demands of a high standard."
The crowd beneath had become hushed and thoughtful as he shot his words out to them. They expected in that grave moment that he would say more; but, as if daunted by his own temerity and unwonted publicity, he abruptly stopped, and like one suddenly frightened, turned and fled. The man on the fountain again lifted his hands and sang with that far-reaching voice. Again they joined him with a new fervour, containing in its volume some enormous throb, quite without excitement, quite grave in its sincerity.
The king, regardless of everything, forgetful of all save the terrific song which for centuries had led his people to the heights of endeavour, there to be crowned with death or victory, shut his eyes, threw his head back and sang with them. With a final outpouring of fervent wishes, the crowd saw him pass through the door, followed last of all by the white-headed old baron. The noise died away, and the palace gardens began to empty. The king looked around the room for Kent. He was not to be seen. As if mortified by his own moralising, he had gone.
The door of the room adjoining stood ajar and the king walked to it, looked in, and halted in astonishment. Kent was standing alone by the side of his bed, in which lay Provarsk. The king hesitated for an instant and then turned and tip-toed away. The broken screen caught his glance and he paused above it, observing that Von Glutz and Paulo were both inspecting the same object.
The baron looked around with his slow eyes, and pointed at the tiny dent in the tiles, bordered with splotches of lead, and called attention to it with a significant smile.
"That," he said, "I take to be the last shot of the last revolt in Marken."
The king saw the American once more that day. It was after twilight, dusk and a full moon had followed one another across the trail of the skies. In the distance, where Marken huddled and shouldered on its hills, could be heard, mellowed, but expressive, the faint sounds of revelry. Great rockets marked fiery courses in the night and then showered upon the red roofs their softly floating and multi-hued rain of stars. Sometimes above the murmur of the notes of a military band might be heard, bearing through the distance, airs of triumphant peace. Very soothing they sounded to the king, who, exhausted by his day of excitement and work, strolled meditatively in the garden that had so short a time before been trampled by the feet of a people freed. Here had his ambition been achieved in that hour when his subjects shouted to him their esteem. Here they had voiced more than esteem, and given him an outspoken affection. With that, all things could be accomplished.
He took a shorter way through the masses of roses, and came to a secluded path on which the moon seemed to peer intent. He stopped short and bent forward, unconsciously eavesdropping. Those were familiar voices, and familiar shapes, those of the princess walking with the American, whilst their arms, outlined in sombre black, and silken white, were around each other's waists. The king stepped into the path behind them and gave a loud "Ahem!"
Startled, and confused, they fell apart as they faced him. There was but a moment's hesitancy, and John Rhodes, recovering, closed the space between him and the Princess Eloise, and caught her waiting hand in his.
"By your leave, Sire," he said, to the king.
"Sir," said the king, "the honour is mine!"
THE END
| This article uses material from the Wikipedia article Metasyntactic variable, which is released under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. |