A Queen's Error Part 15

"Let us come too, old chap," he cried--"both of us--Ethel and I."

The idea to me was both pleasant and astonis.h.i.+ng. I had never thought of it.

"But won't Ethel find it rather a fatiguing journey?" I suggested.

He was quite amused at the idea.

"I can a.s.sure you," he said, "that she can stand pretty nearly as much as I can. She's a regular little amazon. That's what Ethel is."

"Very well, then," I replied, "nothing will suit me better than to have yours and Ethel's charming society. As a matter of fact I am beginning to look forward to the expedition keenly."

The next few days were given up to wild speculations on our coming journey and its results.

"I hear the country is lovely," exclaimed Ethel, poring over a map; "at any rate the voyage will be splendid!"

It was settled that we should start from Liverpool to Monte Video, thence make our way by rail across country to our destination, Valoro, a beautiful city in the mountains of Aquazilia, in the neighbourhood of which we were told we should get splendid sport.

Therefore we made a flying trip to town, especially to visit Purdey's and supply ourselves with the very latest things in sporting guns and rifles.

Out of the very liberal provision the old lady had made for my expenses, I felt justified in being extravagant, and provided myself with a beautiful gun--the right barrel having a shallow rifling for a bullet should we meet with very big game--and a perfect gem of an express rifle; these two were the latest models in sporting firearms.

Ethel and St. Nivel, having an unlimited command of money, ordered pretty nearly everything they were advised to take, with the result that we required a small pantechnicon van to take our combined luggage.

There was, however, one thing I was very particular about, and upon which I took the advice of an old friend who had travelled much.

I bought a first-rate _Target_ revolver--a Colt--with which I knew I could make _accurate_ shooting. I would not trust my life to one of those unscientific productions which are just as likely to shoot a friend as an enemy, and are more in the nature of pop-guns than defensive weapons. I had reason to congratulate myself later on that I had taken such a precaution.

"There's one thing you really must see to at once, Bill," exclaimed St.

Nivel, one day when we were all busy making out lists of our requirements in the great library and posting them off to the stores.

"You _must_ get a servant."

Now I had been, for the last three months, doing for myself; my old servant had left me some months before and I had not filled his place with another. Times, too, had not been very prosperous with me and I seriously thought of curtailing that luxury and brus.h.i.+ng my own clothes.

The liberal allowance for my travelling expenses, however, plus the thousand pound note, put quite a different complexion on matters. I felt now thoroughly justified in providing myself with a first-rate man, and for that purpose I took my cousin's advice and put an advertis.e.m.e.nt in the _Morning Post_.

"A gentleman requires a good valet, used to travelling. Excellent reference required." I gave my name and St. Nivel's address to ensure getting a good one.

That was the wording of it, and I arranged to run up to town for a day to make my selection from them. From the numerous applicants I selected six, and told them to meet me at Long's Hotel.

St. Nivel accompanied me to give me the benefit of his advice, which was perhaps not likely to be of much service to me. He employed a refined person himself who asked and got 150 a year.

The man who took my fancy was an old cavalry soldier named Brooks who had been out of work for a time, but who yet bore the stamp of a man who knew his work and would do it. I closed with him for a modest 70 a year, and he was glad to get it.

"When will you be ready to come, Brooks?" I asked when we had settled preliminaries. "We shall be off by the next boat to La Plata, and I shall want you to get on with the packing as soon as you can."

"For the matter of that, sir," he answered, "I could come now. I've no chick nor child to hold me. I'm a widower without enc.u.mbrances."

I told the "widower without enc.u.mbrances" to come the next day, and St.

Nivel and I jumped into a hansom to catch the five o'clock express, glad to get out of the thick atmosphere of London into the bright crisp air of Norfolk.

"I think you've done right," remarked St. Nivel in the train, "in getting an old cavalry man. He'll understand hunting things."

As I could not afford to hunt I missed the point of the signification.

Ah, those were happy days, those last few before we started!

All our serious preparations were finished and we had only to give a little general supervision to the packing of our respective servants.

Ethel's experienced maid was going with her, of course.

This done, we used to stroll about together--the three of us--and enjoy the last few hours of the dear old place as much as we could in the beautiful bright weather.

I think Ethel and I even used to get a little bit romantic in the lovely moonlight nights, when the old oak-panelled corridors and staircases were bathed in the soft light. But we were very far from being in love with one another all the same.

I shall never forget that time of peace, which came in a period of storm and trial; the old red mansion with the river running not a hundred yards from it, and the graceful swans sailing to and fro, the glorious old trees of the avenue, the fine broad terrace with its splendid views over the low, undulating country, with a glimpse of Lynn Deeps on one hand and the white towers of St. Margaret's, the great church in the ancient town, on the other.

The dreamy, old-world air of the place, the smell even of the fresh-turned earth in the great gardens, the cawing of the circling rooks--it all comes back to me as if I had but walked out of it all an hour ago.

However, the morning soon came when we were to bid adieu to it all, and in the hurry and scurry of it and the race down to the station in the motor--for we were late, Ethel's maid having forgotten an important hat--perhaps we forgot all our peaceful happiness in our feverish speculations on our voyage across the Atlantic to that distant South American Republic, Aquazilia, and its mountain capital, Valoro.

CHAPTER X

THE PLOT THAT FAILED

Settling on the Hotel Victoria as our headquarters, we prepared to make the two days before our sailing as amusing as possible, but I always had before me the nightmare of the little carved casket which I was to carry with me.

I decided I would take no risks with it. I would go and fetch it from my solicitors on the afternoon of our departure, on the way to the station. It was very evident to me that this casket contained something of the greatest possible interest to several people, including in particular His Serene Highness, the Duke of Rittersheim.

When, then, Ethel, St. Nivel and I had crowded all the visits to theatres and matinees we could into the intervening two days, we sat taking our last luncheon in England, probably, for some time to come.

"I am so glad we are going by this boat instead of the next," remarked St. Nivel, taking a gla.s.s of Chartreuse from the attentive waiter who was on the look out for a parting tip; "a fortnight makes all the difference in that part of the world; we shall just get there for the tail end of the summer, which they say is glorious. A bit of a change, I am thinking," he added, with a glance out of the window, "to this kind of diluted pea-soup weather we get here in November."

"Let us see," said Ethel, with a calculating air, "this is the last week in November. We arrive there the second week in December, and the rainy season does not begin until the middle of January. We shall have a clear month to enjoy ourselves in!"

"Very delightful," I replied; "a delightful voyage under delightful circ.u.mstances."

I bowed to my cousin Ethel as I raised my liqueur gla.s.s to my lips.

She blew away the smoke of the cigarette she took from hers--we were in a private room--and smiled at me.

"You flattering old courtier!" she answered; "you get those airs through writing romances. What is more to the purpose, have you secured those three state cabins on the C deck of the _Oceana_?"

"Well," I answered laconically, "I've paid the money for them at any rate. Sixty-six pounds the three, over and above first-cla.s.s fare!"

"And very cheap, too," replied Ethel; "the comfort of sleeping in a real bra.s.s bedstead instead of those intolerable bunks is worth three times as much!"