CHAPTER I.
“Three aces! Your majesty is in luck! Shall we make it a jack-pot?”
King Rudolph XII., of Hesse-Heilfels, solemnly acquiesced in this suggestion by a nod of his gray head. His small, greenish-gray eyes gleamed with excitement, and the flush on his heavily moulded face bore witness to the wicked joy he was deriving from a new game of chance. Rudolph was a true Schwartzburger in his fondness for gambling. There is a legend of the Rhine which tells how one of Rudolph’s lineal ancestors, who occupied the throne of Hesse-Heilfels three centuries ago, lost his kingdom on a throw of the dice and his honor by a thrust of the sword. The courtier who had won a kingdom from his liege lord did not live to tell the tale of his good luck. The house of Schwartzburger has never neglected heroic measures when it has been confronted by a great crisis. To gamble with a king of Hesse-Heilfels has always required not only skill but courage.
That Jonathan Edwards Bennett, a rolling stone from Litchfield County, Connecticut, United States of America, had dared to teach King Rudolph of Hesse-Heilfels the mysteries of the American game of poker, spoke well for the Yankee adventurer’s boldness. One of the first stories that Bennett had been told upon entering Rudolph’s kingdom had turned upon the fate of a commercial traveller from the United States who had managed to penetrate to the sacred presence of the testy monarch. The drummer had offered to equip the army of Hesse-Heilfels with bicycles at so low a figure that the suspicions of King Rudolph had been aroused. Becoming convinced by a series of searching questions that the commercial traveller could not fulfil the promises he had made, the proud but irascible Schwartzburger confiscated the Yankee’s watch and loose change. He then gave orders that the stranger be driven beyond the borders of the kingdom. Rudolph XII. prided himself upon always being just, though he might be at times severe.
King Rudolph of Hesse-Heilfels and Jonathan Edwards Bennett of Connecticut played poker amid luxurious and romantic surroundings. The favorite castle of the Schwartzburgers caps a hill overlooking the distant Rhine, but somewhat out of the beaten line of travel. The Schwartzburgers have always cherished a dislike for tourists, and under Rudolph XII. the little kingdom of Hesse-Heilfels has been jealously guarded from the prying eyes of fussy travellers, who, as His Majesty had often remarked, were apt to lead the good people of the country into temptation. Four hundred years ago a Schwartzburger who had been crowned king of Hesse-Heilfels had said: “The divine right to fleece resides in the person of the king, and when exercised by a subject becomes treason.” One of the most learned professors at the University of Heidelberg some years ago wrote a treatise to prove that this remark was, on the face of it, an Irish bull, and could not, therefore, have been uttered by a King of Hesse-Heilfels. A great controversy over this question arose in the German universities, and the matter is still under discussion. It has served at least one valuable purpose, in furnishing another outlet for pent-up erudition. German scholarship needs constant relief of this kind, and what is known as the Schwartzburger Irish-Bull problem has been of great service to the congested erudition of the university towns.
The castle of the Schwartzburgers in which we find the reigning king pursuing his studies in poker under the tutorship of a wandering genius from Connecticut was built late in the thirteenth century, and “was restored,” as the guide-books say, early in the present century by King Rudolph’s father. “The restoration is incomplete,” Bennett had said to the king, a few days after he had been admitted to the royal circle. “Your castle is picturesque but unhealthy, romantic but rheumatic, with too many relics and too few conveniences. What you need at once, your majesty, is sanitary plumbing, a few passenger and freight elevators, and an electric lighting plant.”
King Rudolph had gazed suspiciously at the smooth-faced, smooth-tongued youth, whose nervously energetic manner was aggravated by his efforts to make his meaning clear in the German tongue. Bennett was a well-equipped linguist, but the German dialect spoken in Hesse-Heilfels was new to him. He was by temperament loquacious and restless, and it annoyed him to find that his vocabulary was frequently defective when he was endeavoring to convince the king that a certain line of action was imperatively and immediately necessary. King Rudolph had rejected, for the time being, the suggestions thrown out by Bennett regarding repairs to the castle, and had devoted such hours as he could snatch from affairs of state to learning the ins and outs of the game of draw poker. The result was that Rudolph XII. and Jonathan Edwards Bennett spent twelve hours of every twenty-four in the king’s private apartments—with royalty and democracy separated by only a table, a pack of cards, and a set of ivory chips. Already the kingdom had begun to feel the effects of Rudolph’s example, for the palace sets the fashions in Hesse-Heilfels, and when the king plays poker in his castle the peasant in the valley is anxious to learn the difference between a royal flush and a full house. When Jonathan Edwards Bennett taught Rudolph XII., the reigning Schwartzburger, to play jack-pots he started a poker avalanche that poured down from the castle into the valleys and eventually caused the most serious upheaval in the modern history of the kingdom of Hesse-Heilfels.
“If your luck continues, your majesty,” remarked Bennett, as he shuffled the cards and gazed thoughtfully through the open window toward the distant mountain-tops, “I shall be compelled to mortgage my farm in Litchfield County, Connecticut.”
There was silence in the stately old chamber for a moment, broken only by the ticking of an antique clock that had punctuated the lives of many generations of Schwartzburgers. King Rudolph thrust a trembling hand through his scanty gray locks and smiled slyly.
“What’s the farm worth?” he asked, eagerly seizing his five cards and looking at them anxiously.
The expression upon Bennett’s clear-cut, pale, and rather handsome face did not change. He gazed stolidly at his hand, and calmly discarded three of his five cards. A close observer would have noted, however, that the dark eyes of the youth glanced now and then at the king’s heavy countenance and seemed to read the very soul of his royal opponent.
“The farm is worth a contract to renovate your castle,” answered the Yankee coldly.
“What do you mean?” cried the king, as he again added a small pile of Bennett’s chips to his own store.
“I mean this, your majesty,” answered the American. “I’ll make a bet with you—the cards to decide the wager—by the terms of which you are bound to win. We’ll throw a cold hand for the stakes. See? If your cards beat mine, you own my farm. If I win, you are to sign a contract authorizing me to take charge of the internal improvements not only of your castle but of your kingdom. I am to make this castle a modern residence, to improve the roads in your kingdom, and to put a little snap and ginger into your people. You are falling years behind other civilized lands. You need my services, your majesty, as a Moses who shall lead you out of the desert of the past into the flowery plains of the future. See? It was a lucky day for you when I entered your kingdom.”
The Schwartzburgers have never been noted for quick-wittedness. Their minds have always moved slowly, unless their temper was aroused. The only way to make a Schwartzburger think and act hastily is to stir up his anger. At this moment Rudolph XII. was gazing at the Yankee in a dazed way. He seemed to be striving dully to find a ray of light by which to throw the American’s startling proposition into effective relief. He evidently harbored a vague suspicion that he was in imminent danger of losing his royal and time-honored prerogative of fleecing the wandering sheep that came within his reach. The idea of subletting a portion of his royal authority to a comparative stranger was not attractive. Furthermore, King Rudolph realized that by delegating to Bennett the authority he craved, he would arouse the antagonism of the most influential and powerful subjects of his realm.
Nevertheless, the king of Hesse-Heilfels was fascinated by the chance of winning an estate in America. To his mind “a farm in Connecticut” represented a domain from which vast wealth might be derived. Rumors of the fabulous riches possessed by American tourists who had at times visited his castle had made a strong impression upon King Rudolph. Furthermore, the microbe of poker was at work in the royal blood. The fever caused by jack-pot germs was having its delirious influence upon the king’s mind.
“By a cold hand,” remarked the king slowly, “you mean that we stake everything on one deal?”
“Yes,” answered Bennett, “we throw the cards face upward and make our discards openly. It is very simple. Shall I proceed?”
At that instant the doors behind Bennett’s chair were thrown open and a girl of eighteen hastily entered the apartment. The American turned toward her, flushed perceptibly, and arose from his seat.
The Princess Hilda, the king’s niece, paid not the slightest attention to Bennett, but approached the king with a look of determination upon her handsome face. Her cheeks were slightly reddened from excitement, and her dark blue eyes seemed almost black as they rested upon her royal uncle. There was silence for an instant. The opening of the doors had tempted a breeze from the mountains to enter the palace through the windows and shake the antique hangings as it passed. It caressed Hilda’s golden hair gently as she stood before the king and said:
“Pardon me, your majesty, but I have news—state news—that brooks no delay. No other messenger seemed quite fitted for the task, so I have come to tell you that——”
King Rudolph raised his hand with an angry gesture.
“You must wait, princess. Is it not enough that I should be vexed with cares of state by my ministers and secretaries without being interrupted in my too few hours of relaxation by you? Furthermore, there is an affair of state—a most important affair of state—here at issue at this moment. Come, mein Herr Bennett, throw the cards! Wait, Hilda, do not be offended! Watch my luck, princess! You shall stand here to bring me good fortune. Whichever way it goes, you say, mein Herr, I win? So be it! I take your word! Let’s draw. Forgive me, princess; I know your news will keep.”