"EVEN ONE SUBJECT MAY MAKE A KINGDOM"
When the last of the men had left, and I had seen von Nauheim go out with the old baron in close consultation, I sat on alone for a time thinking with some exultation of the result of my week's work in Munich, and of the vastly changed position which my shuffling of the cards had created.
I should certainly sleep the sounder for the value I had contrived to put on my life in their eyes; for I calculated that until they had had time to reconstruct their plans they would not venture to attack me.
What would they do? I pondered the question very carefully, turning it over and over in my thoughts as I knew that wily old baron was doing at the self-same moment—unless he had already made a plan and had taken von Nauheim out to impart it to him.
One thing soon made itself quite clear. Whatever form their next move might take, it would closely concern Minna. She was the pivot on which everything turned in their inner plot. So long as she was a free agent, and able to do what I had said—openly renounce the scheme and publicly abandon her claim to the throne—they would not touch me. But the instant they could get her into their control my power would be broken. I should no longer be necessary to them, but in the way. I could guess what would follow.
I determined, therefore, to take the initiative and force the game with von Nauheim; and, fortunately, he gave me an opportunity.
After I had been alone about an hour he returned, and did not take any trouble to hide the fact that he was in a very bad temper. When the surface was scratched, he was too much of a cad to remember that he was my host. He swaggered into the room and poured himself out a stiff glass of brandy and drank it. Then he turned to me.
"I suppose you think you've managed things devilish well to try and play the master in this way?"
"Well, I haven't done badly," I said, with a shrug of the shoulders.
"I should like to know what you mean about your condition about my marriage—cursed interference, I call it."
"My meaning was plain enough to the rest; surely I need not repeat it."
"Oh, I know what you mean. But what the devil is it to you? Is it your game to try and stop this marriage altogether? You won't, you know, so you needn't try."
"I would rather discuss family affairs with you when you're——" I was going to say sober, but checked myself and changed it to—"when you are less excited."
"What do you mean by that?" he cried, taking fire and speaking furiously. "Do you mean to insinuate that I'm drunk?" and he rose and came up close to me.
At that I guessed his motive by a kind of intuition. He meant to put a quarrel on me over this postponement of the marriage; and probably to let it develop into a scuffle, in which he would try to regain possession of the paper I had put in my pocket.
"I prefer not to continue the conversation now," I said coolly.
"But you'll have to, whether you wish it or not. I'm not going to let you ride roughshod over me, I can tell you. You'll just have the goodness to apologize to me for your insinuation that I'm drunk. D'ye hear?"
"I have not the least intention of apologizing to you for anything," said I sharply.
"Oh, won't you? We'll see about that," he cried, in an even louder voice; and then by deliberate intention I saw him knock over a small table on which a number of bottles and glasses stood. These fell to the ground with a loud clatter and crash, and the next moment a couple of servants came running into the room.
I judged that it was a preconcerted signal, for the moment they appeared he put his hand on my arm and, staring threateningly into my face, swore at me.
"You shall not leave the room till you've apologized," he said, calling the two men to his side.
I kept cool enough. I had no difficulty in shaking off his hand, and I stared him full in the face with so stern a look that, bully as he was, he flinched and wavered and changed color.
"Are you mad, Count von Nauheim, that you would make me forget I am under your roof?"
"No, I'm not mad nor drunk either, but you shall repent this night's work. Here," he called to the men again.
What he meant to do I know not, for my next action produced so wholly unexpected a result that he had no chance to do anything.
I whipped out the revolver I had in my pocket and levelled it point-blank in the lackeys' faces and bade them in ringing tones to be off out of the room. They stayed for no second bidding, but turned on their heels and scampered for their lives, leaving their master looking very much of a fool in the middle of the room. I put the revolver away again then and turned to him.
"Now that we are alone again, what do you mean to do?"
But his courage had fled as fast as his servants, and with a feeble attempt at a lying laugh he mumbled out something to the effect that he had meant no more than a joke, and turned away to hide his confusion in another full dose of brandy.
I saw my chance and took it.
"I do not allow people to play jokes of that kind upon me, Count von Nauheim," I said, as sternly as I could. "I prefer to trust the evidence of my own wits and say that you were in earnest in the attempt to use some violence toward me. Under these circumstances I cannot, of course, remain another hour in your house; and you will understand this to mean that I cannot receive you at Gramberg. You will therefore spare me the unpleasantness of telling my servants to refuse you admittance by not attempting to come there."
"Do you mean that you will try to keep me from my affianced wife?"
"Unless my cousin chooses to meet you elsewhere than at Gramberg, that is precisely what will happen," I answered.
"I suppose you want the fortune for yourself?" he sneered.
"You have a short memory, count. You have forgotten you told me the fortune would come to me as soon as this matter was successfully accomplished."
He flushed, for he had evidently forgotten that part of his former instructions, and my reminder irritated him.
"Then maybe you want Minna, and have a fancy yourself to sit on the throne?"
"I have nothing further to say to you," I answered stiffly. "Any communication I have to make regarding matters here shall be made to Baron Heckscher." And with that I left the room and the house.
I was glad of the quarrel for many reasons. We should be rid of the man's presence at Gramberg while making our preparations there; and I should feel much freer in any future visits to Munich. But most welcome of all was the fact that I knew Minna would be delighted at my having secured that she should not see him again.
I went to a hotel, passed a very comfortable night after a very full day, and the next morning before setting out for Gramberg I paid a visit to each of the two men whom I had ascertained to be loyal to Minna. Their names were Kummell and Beilager; and I urged them, for reasons which I would explain, to pay a secret visit to Gramberg. Then I returned to the castle lighter in heart and even busier in thought than I had set out. Busy as I was with the details of my own schemes, however, I found more than once my thoughts running ahead of me to the castle in pleased speculation as to how Minna would meet me and what she would say to my news.
When I had finished my train journey, and was driving to the castle, I could not help comparing my present feelings with those on my first arrival at the place. I had played the part of the Prince so completely during the exciting experiences of the two weeks that had passed since my arrival, every one had accepted my impersonation so unconditionally, and I had acted and spoken so entirely as if I were indeed the head of that great house, that I had actually begun to feel that I was in reality the Prince. I looked upon the signs of deference, the honors, the ready compliance with my wishes, the submission to my orders, as though they were my just due; and I was conscious of a greatly increased sense of dignity, which, I have no doubt, imparted itself to my mien and speech.
I had now no thought of drawing back, of course, until at least I had cut the knot of Minna's difficulties; and I had begun to entertain some very unpleasant and disquieting doubts and anxieties as to how I could shake off my borrowed plumes and return to the humdrum, meaningless, empty, incognito existence.
As to that, indeed, a new set of thoughts had begun to take shape in my mind—wild and forlorn hopes, in truth, but none the less cherished. The idea was to try and so carry through this business of the Munich plot as to ingratiate myself sufficiently into the favor of the great ones at Berlin to win back my own position and inheritance.
The most spurring motive that can move a man was developing in me, and developing fast. As a supposititious Prince von Gramberg I was absolutely impossible as a suitor for Minna's hand. Even if I could save her from this terrible entanglement, and escape any recognition, I could not marry her. My life would then have to be lived over a mine which might be exploded under my feet at any moment, to the ruin of both her life and my own.
As an English adventurer and ex-play-actor my case was just as hopeless. But as Count von Rudloff there would be no such bar of family between us; my family was indeed as old as any in the kingdom, and I set my wits to work zealously to find means by which I could use this plot to that end. But the odds against me were enough to make any one despair, and the knowledge almost appalled me.
I was not long left in doubt as to the manner of my reception at Gramberg. My cousin was waiting for me on the very threshold, and she came to meet me, her face aglow with pleasure, and her eyes beaming with the warmest of welcomes. She took my hand in both hers, and for the moment could do no more than murmur words of welcome and gladness at my return. As for me, the sweetness of her beauty, the touch of her hands in mine, and the sheer delight I felt in her presence held me tongue-tied.
Then her words burst out with a rush, and she plied me with question upon question about my news, my doings in Munich, what was to happen, and a thousand other things, until I caught von Krugen's dark eyes—he had met me at the station and was standing by me now—fixed upon her in shrewd speculation.
"I could not hold back my impatience a minute longer, cousin Hans," she said at length, with a smile. "Although my good aunt Gratz would have had me wait upstairs in my rooms until you would find it convenient to see me. You will forgive me for this unceremonious assault?"
I would have loved to tell her what I really thought about it; but I put a curb on any such madness by reflecting that her anxiety had nothing in it personal to myself.
"It would take so long in the telling," I answered. "I can scarcely tell it to you here."
A look of regret and surprise dashed her face for the moment, and she withdrew her hands from mine and bit her lips.
"I have done wrong in rushing to you thus. You will think it unseemly. Will you let me know how soon you can come to me? Do believe, cousin, I would not wittingly do anything to displease you."
I stood silent like a dumb fool; and then after a pause she added:
"I ought to have reflected you would have many things to do, and that I—that I should be in the way. I will go."
"No, don't go," I blurted out, and then could say no more.
She looked at me in justifiable astonishment, and wrinkled her brows in perplexity.
"The Prince was saying as we drove here that he must see you at once, countess," interposed von Krugen, and I could have blessed him for the words. Then he went forward and threw open the door of the room next, and looked round as if inviting us to enter. It was the library.
I shook myself together with an effort and gathered my scattered wits.
"Can you spare me an interview at once?" I asked Minna.
"Cousin!" and her astonishment deepened and found expression in her tone. "Am I not here for that very purpose—and dying to learn the news? Come;" and she went into the room and led the way to the far end, as it chanced to the very window from the embrasure of which I had first seen her. "I hope your first news is that all this plot is at an end, and that the project of the marriage is dead with it?"
I had mastered my stupid embarrassment by this time and had found my tongue again.
"You must listen carefully to all I have to tell you, and then to what I propose to do," I replied, and plunged at once into as plain a recital as I could give of all that part of the proceedings which I deemed it necessary to tell her. I dwelt upon the reasons why in my opinion it was impossible to draw back yet, and upon all I expected to gain by the counterplot I had devised.
"I will not see the Count von Nauheim again," she said, and her dislike of him was the first and strongest feeling she expressed. Nor did I grieve at this.
"He will not come here," I said. "I was going to force a quarrel on him to make that impossible when he saved me the trouble by putting one on me. I then warned him off the place."
"Good, very good!" she cried, her eyes flashing. "If I were to see him again, I could not restrain my hatred. I should tell him exactly how I feel toward him. It is loathsome even to be linked in name with such a man. But as that is settled, I will do whatever you wish. I knew you would be too much for them all, cousin Hans, if they did not kill you, as I sadly feared they would. I shall never be able to repay you," she added, looking to me and smiling. "If I were only a man, I could——"
"What?" I asked when she stopped.
"I could at least fight with you instead of being a clog and a drag."
"You are our inspiration," I said earnestly, and at that her cheeks flushed and she cast down her eyes.
"I wish all the trouble were over," she said presently.
"We must not be in too great a hurry. We have done very well so far. A little pluck and dash, and slice or two of luck, and we shall get through all right. But now tell me, can you think of any place in Munich, or near there, where you can go secretly and hide when the moment comes?"
"Why must I be put out of the way in this fashion? It seems like running away at the very moment of peril, and I am not afraid. Do you think I am a coward?"
"This is no question of bravery or cowardice. It is merely a matter of tactics. The very keystone of this inner plot of theirs is that you shall be missing when the cry is raised for you to ascend the throne. To secure that these people will stick at nothing—they would even take your life. Now, for the success of my counter-scheme, I must be able to have you at hand just when I want you. That is all-important. You will have to go to Munich in apparent compliance with their wishes for you to be ready for the final coup, and we shall show no sign of suspicion, but you will have trusty guards to protect you against attack. My scheme is to let them carry off some one in your place, and for that purpose I shall endeavor to get wind of their plan of abduction. What I wish to do is to shut out suspicion that we have fooled them until it is too late for them to change their plans. Is there any one among your maids whom you could trust to personate you, who is sufficiently like you in height and color and so on to be mistaken for you by a stranger, knowing you only by description or having only seen you once? She would of course be dressed to represent you, and she must be sufficiently devoted to you to take a risk and hold her tongue."
"Yes, my dressing-maid, Marie, might pass for me under such circumstances, and I would answer for her stanchness."
"Tell her nothing until the time is close at hand. Then let her know what has to be done. She will wear your dress and will be carried off; you will slip away; and I shall go in a fine rage to von Nauheim to frighten him from getting to see his captive, and thus discover the trick. Your present task, then, will be to get ready for that part of the scheme, and also to think of some safe place to which you can go."
"I will willingly do more, if it will help you," she said.
The completeness of her trust in me was apparent in every word she spoke.
"There will be plenty of exciting work to follow," I replied, with a smile, for I was pleased by her eagerness to help. "Your Majesty may depend upon it that a throne is not to be gained without a struggle."
"I should make a poor Queen," she answered.
"You will make a beautiful one; and if the Bavarians once get sight of you, they will not readily let you go."
She looked at me earnestly and, with half a sigh, said:
"You should not pay me empty compliments, cousin Hans. You should not say things you do not mean."
"Perhaps it would be truer that I must not say all I do mean," I returned, and for the moment my eyes spoke even more than my words; and I made haste to add, in as light a tone as I could: "Your Majesty will have at least one devoted subject, whatever may happen."
"I believe that with all my heart," she answered, in a tone and with a look of confidence and trust that thrilled me. Then she smiled very slightly, and added: "Even one subject may make a kingdom; though I'm sadly afraid I should not be the ruler of even such a realm."
I longed to turn her jest to earnest, and assure her that if she did not no one else ever should; but I pulled myself up on the verge, and remembered that, after all, I was an impostor, though loyal enough to her. And so I made no reply, and dared not even look at her.
After a pause she rose, and, with what sounded like a half-suppressed sigh, she went away.
I let her go, and it was not until she had left the room that the thought struck me that my silence might have seemed currish and curmudgeonly. Then I would have gone after her and told her, and I made a step toward the door; but the thought of what I should say and how to explain my meaning stopped me, and as I hesitated Captain von Krugen came in to resume the conference we had commenced during the drive from the station.