Her Royal Highness Part 38

The request was immediately granted, and he was at once shown up the long corridor, past the sentries guarding the door leading to the royal apartments, and on into the King's private cabinet, where His Majesty, plainly dressed in dark blue serge--for he discarded uniform whenever he could--stood eagerly awaiting him.

"Well, Waldron?" he exclaimed, stretching out his hand warmly, "I've been expecting you for days. Anything to report--eh?"

For answer his visitor drew out the rough memorandum from his pocket, and after brief explanation regarding its source, proceeded to read it.

His Majesty's handsome, clear-cut face fell. He grew pale, but remained silent till the end.

Then with his hands behind his back, he strode slowly across the soft carpet to the heavily curtained window and back again.

Twice he paced the room in silence.

"Strange, Waldron!" he said, pausing and standing before the diplomat.

"Very strange that you get this information, yet Ghelardi is in ignorance of what is happening?"

"He may not deem it wise to report to Your Majesty," Hubert suggested.

"Wise!" he echoed. "In the interests of the country's safety it is his first duty! He reports to me sufficient regarding trivial matters--the irresponsible vagaries of my niece, Lola, and things of that sort. Yet he knows nothing of what is in progress across the frontier," the King cried in anger. "Again, he has discovered nothing regarding the theft of those plans. If we could but find out the truth we might easily face our friends in Vienna, and prevent this attack. Diplomacy could avert the explosion even now, if we only knew the ident.i.ty of the spy."

"I have made every inquiry, Your Majesty, but I have, alas! failed."

"I can only suppose that the conspiracy must have been formed in our own camp," was the King's hard remark, and his visitor knew what was pa.s.sing in His Majesty's mind. Though Sovereign, he was not blind to the corruptness of his Ministry. Yet, as monarch, his hands were, alas!

tied, or he would have long ago cleaned out the Augean stable.

For an hour he remained with the King, discussing the seriousness of the international situation.

"Ah, Waldron," sighed His Majesty, as he stood before the fire, erect, almost statuesque, his face pale and hard-set, "my people little know how much responsibility rests upon me, or how heavy is the burden of my duties towards my nation. During these past weeks I have slept but little, and many a night have I pa.s.sed in here alone, trying to devise some scheme whereby to defeat this secret plot against us. I have learnt how untiring have been your efforts to unravel the mystery of the theft, and I also know that a dastardly attempt has been made upon your life. I know how well and faithfully you have served me, even though I am not your own King. I can only thank you most deeply. Your father was my father's friend, and you are my friend."

"And I trust, even though I have failed to accomplish successfully the mission entrusted to me, that Your Majesty will still allow me to be your most faithful and devoted servant," he replied.

"I know you have done your very best, Waldron, and I highly appreciate it," was the Sovereign's earnest reply. "Ah!" he sighed, "if we could only discover the truth concerning those plans. Then, by prompt action, we might save the situation. But alas! it is still a mystery."

"Has Your Majesty formed any theory?" Hubert asked, after a few moments' hesitation.

"Only one--that Cataldi may have sought profit to himself."

Hubert Waldron nodded, but no word escaped him.

"But how can we prove it--how can we prove it?" the King said.

The Englishman shrugged his shoulders. He recollected that sum which had come to the Minister from a mysterious source a few days after the theft. But of that he made no mention to the King. It was, after all, no proof. Only a suspicion.

Therefore, after yet another half an hour, he made his adieu, bowed as he backed out of the room, and then walked home full of gravest reflections.

That same evening he had promised to see off at the station by the Milan express two English ladies who had been guests of Lady Cathcart at the Emba.s.sy, and this he did, driving in the car with them, for the Amba.s.sador himself had to be present at an official dinner given by the Minister of Foreign Affairs.

He had bidden the two ladies farewell and the train had moved out of the station upon its long, northward journey when, just as he was about to enter the Amba.s.sador's car, standing in the piazza, he caught sight of a familiar face--that of Henri Pujalet.

"Hallo?" he cried. "Why--you in Rome?"

"Yes. I arrived only this afternoon," responded Her Highness's lover, halting and putting out his hand. He was well-dressed, though there seemed to have been some slight attempt to disguise his features.

"Mademoiselle does not know I am here," he added, "so if you see her, please do not mention this meeting. I shall not see her until the day after to-morrow--when we have an appointment to meet."

"Very well," laughed Waldron, though, truth to tell, he was consumed by jealousy. Then in reply to a question he told Waldron that he was staying at the Hotel de Russie, out by the Porta del Popolo, to which place Hubert gave him a lift, afterwards bidding him good evening and driving back to the Emba.s.sy.

What further indiscretion, he wondered, was Lola about to commit.

His heart was bursting with unspoken love. Night after night he lay and thought of her in wonder. Though she was in ignorance of it, she was his all-in-all. Since he had been in Rome he had danced attendance upon many women, as it was his duty as diplomat to do; he had laughed and flirted, and danced and gossiped, and kissed many a woman's hand, but in his heart he held them all in supreme indifference. His eyes and heart were only gladdened when Her Royal Highness, the scandalously skittish and unconventional, chanced to be present. This was fortunately often the case, and frequently he found himself in cosy corners or in conservatories with her as she whispered merrily behind her fan.

This Frenchman, Pujalet, still knew her by the name she had used in her incognita in Egypt--Lola Duprez. Where, he wondered, would they hold their secret meeting?

He bit his lip in mad jealousy as there arose before his eyes a vision of that far-off oasis of dark palms, the steely sky with the bright stars s.h.i.+ning, and of two figures clasped breast to breast.

Peters, as he entered his room, placed the evening paper before him.

Taking it up mechanically he saw a heading: "Boots for the Army," and read as follows:

"It has just transpired, telegraphs our Berlin correspondent, that the tender for the supply of all boots to the Italian Army for the next three years has been secured by the well-known firm of Steinberg and Klein, of Friedenau, near Berlin. It will be remembered that last year they also secured the contract for supplying tinned meats and leather accoutrements for the expedition to Tripoli. The contract was signed by His Excellency General Cataldi some weeks ago, but has not been made public until to-day. The prices quoted by the English and French firms were lower, but His Excellency, after various tests, decided that the quality of the goods offered by the German firm was distinctly better."

Waldron, with bitter words upon his lips, cast the journal from him viciously.

A letter he opened was from Beatriz, dated from Moscow. She was having a brilliant success at the Opera there, she said. When could they meet?

He tore it into small fragments and cast it into the wastepaper-basket.

All thought of the handsome dancer who had used him merely as a stepping-stone to fame had now pa.s.sed from him. He only remembered her with a feeling of poignant bitterness.

Upon the mantelshelf a large, imposing card of invitation caught his eye. Peters sorted them out, and day by day placed them in that conspicuous spot so that he might be reminded of his engagements.

The presence of the Honourable Hubert Waldron, M.V.O., was requested that night by His Excellency General Cataldi at an official reception at the Ministry of War.

He smiled. Cataldi, the unscrupulous, corrupt member of the Cabinet, who was feathering his nest so comfortably, had, perhaps, hired those two a.s.sa.s.sins to take his life. And he was invited to his reception.

The situation was not without its grim humour.

Yes, he would go. He would watch further this man who was providing the brave, patriotic sons of Italy with uneatable beef and unwearable boots, in order that the Countess Cioni should be provided with funds.

He rung up Pucci on the telephone, telling him where he was going.

"You have entree to the Ministry, Pucci, have you not?"

He heard the detective reply in the affirmative.

"I may want you. So go there."

"I cannot go as guest, signore," came the reply. "I will arrange, if you wish, to be on duty as a servant."

"Good. And be as near His Excellency's private room as possible. I will meet you there at midnight and give you instructions. The reception is at eleven--after the banquet at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. His Majesty will, no doubt, be there, and other members of the Royal Family."

"_Benissimo, signore_, I shall be in the corridor at midnight, acting as waiter."

Then Hubert rang off, and pa.s.sing into his bedroom, got into uniform with the aid of the queer, under-sized, hunch-backed little man who, for so many years, had been his faithful servant, and whose father before him had been valet to Hubert's father.