FURTHER PASSAGES AT NO. 300 PORTLAND PLACE
The Princess was amused.
"Aha, les Anglais! Très bons enfants!"
The royal eyebrows had an uplift of mischievous pleasure.
"And this, dear Baron," said her Royal Highness, "is my good friend Colonel Coverdale, who has smelt powder in the wars of his country."
Fitz's open rudeness seemed to help the Ambassador to sustain his poise. He bowed and offered his hand to the Chief Constable in a fashion precisely similar to that he had used to the husband of the Princess.
The Chief Constable shook hands with the Ambassador. It was amusing to observe the manner in which each of these big dogs looked over the other. The representative of Ferdinand the Twelfth was a man of greater calibre than his first appearance had led us to believe.
"It is pleasant, madam," said he, "to find you surrounded by your English friends."
The dark eyes brimmed with meaning.
"Confess, Baron, that you did not think I had so many."
"Your Royal Highness is not kind to my intelligence," said his Excellency.
"Confess, then, you did not think that such was their courage?"
"I will perjure myself if your Royal Highness desires it." The Ambassador's laugh was not so gay in effect as it was in intention. "But could I believe that you would admit any save the bravest to your friendship?"
"Then you recognise, Baron, that my friends are brave?"
"Unquestionably, madam, they are brave."
"Explain then, Baron, why you did not guard the doors of my prison? For what reason, when you went out to dine this evening, did you forget to lock them and put the keys in your pocket?"
Before the subtle laughter in the eyes of his questioner the Ambassador lowered his gaze.
"I trust your Royal Highness does not feel that one of the oldest, if one of the humblest, servants of the good King has so little regard for your Royal Highness as to seek to debar her from the simplest of pleasures?"
"It has not occurred to your Excellency that that of which you speak as the simplest of pleasures may prove for yourself the greatest of calamities?"
At this point the Ambassador was tempted to dissemble.
"I am at a loss, madam, to read your thoughts."
"Liar!" muttered Fitz in my ear.
"Your Excellency appears to have a store of natural simplicity," said the Princess.
The Ambassador bowed.
"Is it not a great thing to have, madam, in these days?"
"Has it not occurred to your Excellency that it is a luxury that those who would serve their Sovereign occasionally deny themselves?"
"If it pleases your Royal Highness to exercise your delightful wit at the expense of the humblest servant of the good King!"
"It does not please me, Excellency. It grieves me to the heart."
With an address that was remarkable the Princess changed her tone. Quite suddenly the clear and mellow inflection of light banter was exchanged for one of coldly wrought reproof.
"I am sorry, madam," said the Ambassador, simply and with sincerity; "I am a thousand times sorry. I can never forgive myself if I have wounded the susceptibilities of your Royal Highness. Already I had hoped I had made it clear that the least of your servants has not been a free agent in all that has been done. I am the humble instrument of an august master."
"I agree with you, Herr Baron, that the King, in his wisdom, cannot do wrong. But it is because you have betrayed the service of your master that I am unhappy."
The Herr Baron lowered his eyes.
"Please God," he said humbly, "the least of the King's servants will never betray the service of him to whom he owes everything."
The Princess laughed, a little cruelly.
"Speeches, Baron," said she.
"Will your Royal Highness deign to explain in what manner I have betrayed the service of my master?"
"If you press the question, I will answer it. At the command of the King, you take me by force and you imprison me in your house until that hour in which I can be removed to the castle at Blaenau. And then, in an unlucky moment, you open the door of my cage, and I am once again a free person in the company of my friends."
The Princess rose abruptly, and with a disdain that was like a rapier suffered Fitz to place the cloak about her shoulders.
The Ambassador retained his self-possession. In his bearing, in the cold lustre of his eyes, in the rigidity of the jaw, were the evidence of an inflexible will.
"The orders, madam, of the King, my master, are explicit," he said in a low voice. "It grieves me bitterly that I cannot suffer them to be set aside."
"So be it, Herr Baron." The great dark eyes of the Princess transfixed the Ambassador like a pair of swords.
In the midst of these passages Fitz reassumed his rôle of generalissimo.
"Arbuthnot," he whispered to me, "you and Brasset and Vane-Anstruther guard the farthest door. Let no one enter or pass out. Coverdale and O'Mulligan will look after the other one."
In silence, and without ostentation, we disposed ourselves accordingly. Clearly it had not occurred to the Ambassador to expect compulsion to be levied in his own house, by half a dozen commonplace civilians in black coats.
We had hardly taken up our places when Fitz, who stood by the side of the Princess, received from her a look that was also a command. Thereupon, for the first time, he deigned to address the Ambassador.
"Baron von Arlenberg," he said, "the friends of her Royal Highness have no wish to use force majeure, but her Royal Highness desires me to inform you that she has it at her disposal. All the same, she is hopeful that your natural good sense will spare her the necessity of employing it."
Fitz's words were well spoken, but his tone, scrupulously restrained as it was, had an undercurrent of menace that the Ambassador and his two secretaries could hardly fail to detect. The cold eyes of his Excellency seemed to blaze with fury, but he made no reply.
The Princess took the arm of her husband, and moved a pace in the direction of the farther door. At the same moment the Ambassador made a movement to the left where a bell-rope hung from the wall.
"Baron von Arlenberg," said Fitz, in a tone that compelled him to stay where he was, "if you touch that rope I shall blow out your brains."
Fitz had the revolver in his hand already. He covered the Ambassador imperturbably. The two secretaries, although confused by the swiftness of the act, moved forward.
"Keep away from the bell-rope, gentlemen," said Fitz. "I shall not hesitate."
The secretaries halted indecisively beside their chief, and as they did so Coverdale left his post by the nearer door and, revolver in hand, solemnly mounted guard over the bell-rope.
"I am afraid, gentlemen," said Fitz, "you have no choice other than to respect the wishes of the Princess. And she desires that you stay in this room until she has left the Embassy."
However, with all his coolness, Fitz had made two important miscalculations. On the right there was another bell-rope, and there was also the lady of the silver hair, the Margravine of Lesser Grabia. I sprang from my post and literally wrenched the rope from her fingers, but not before she had pulled it as hard as she could.
Escorted by Fitz, the Princess passed out of the room, while the friends of her Royal Highness assumed an aspect of quiet, but determined hostility, in order to prevent the Ambassador, his secretaries, the Margravine, who looked furious, and the fair player of Schumann, who appeared to be consumed with mirth, from following her.
Hardly had the Princess passed through the farther door, which Brasset and Jodey had the honour of holding for her, before the Countess Etta von Zweidelheim collapsed upon a convenient sofa.
"It is petter than Offenbach!" she said, beginning to weep softly.
Whether it was actually better than Offenbach, I am not competent to affirm, but I can answer for it that for all except that charming but risible lady it was a great deal more serious. The Ambassador was a brave man, and he had strength of will, but as becomes one of his calling he was in no sense a fool. He had seen that in the eyes of Fitz which had assured him that a too-punctilious regard for the will of his Sovereign would not only be futile, but indiscreet. And no sooner had Fitz and the royal lady vanished from his ken, than there were Coverdale and the rest of us to contend with.
The Chief Constable with his back to the wall, even without a firearm in his stolid fist, is a very considerable figure of a man who will not brook nonsense from anybody. Then Alexander O'Mulligan, by the farther door, had a personality by no means deficient in persuasiveness.
Scarcely had the Princess departed before O'Mulligan's door was tried from without. The amateur middle-weight champion of Great Britain set his back against it with great success.
"Help! help!" called the Margravine in a deep bay, which it seemed to our alarmed ears must have been audible for half a mile. "Save the Princess! Help! Help!"
In response to the appeal, a greater and ever-increasing pressure was brought to bear upon the door. The hinges groaned, and the panels trembled; and at last Alexander O'Mulligan suddenly withdrew his weight, and divers persons tumbled headlong, one over another, pell-mell into the room.
"I think we had better go," said Coverdale, in the midst of this chaos.
The five remaining champions of the Princess's freedom gathered together and, their weapons still in hand, withdrew in excellent order. But one resplendent apartment led to another, equally resplendent, and amid the labyrinth of doors and corridors we could not find the staircase. And immediately behind us the outraged Ambassador and his retinue were gaining every instant in numbers and morale.
The situation was ludicrous, yet not without its peril. It was hard to know what would happen, and there was very little time in which to form a conjecture. Besides, it was of great importance that we should find our way downstairs without delay, for our presence there might be sorely needed.
As it happened, our thanks were due to the Ambassador that we were able to find the staircase. For he and a number of excited persons flocked past us and pointed a direct course thereto. They got down first, but we followed hard upon their heels.
On the ground floor all was peace. The men in livery and divers stray officials were serenely unconscious of what had occurred. Fitz had donned his overcoat, and with stupendous coolness was preparing to depart. Just as the Ambassador came into view, he led the Princess into the outer vestibule.
"They can't stop 'em now," said Coverdale. "We had better look after our coats and hats, and then find our way to the Savoy."
This was true enough, for the door leading to the street was already open.
Waiting by the kerb was an electric brougham which Fitz had had the forethought to provide. Coverdale and I retrieved our property from the waiting-room at the foot of the staircase, while the others went in search of theirs; and so quickly was this accomplished, that we were able to witness an incident that was not the least memorable of the many of that amazing evening.
The Ambassador realised that the game was lost as soon as he saw the open door and the brougham in readiness. Therefore he refrained from passing beyond the inner vestibule. It is expected of an ambassador that he shall do no hurt to his dignity in the most exacting situations.
But there is an astonishing incident still to be recorded. Fitz, having placed the Princess in safety in the brougham, returned into the house. Walking straight up to the Ambassador, he addressed him in terms of measured insult.
"You cowardly dog," he said. "I would shoot you like a cur if it were not for the laws of the country. You are not worth hanging for. But I will meet you at Paris at the first opportunity. Here is my card."
Before he could be prevented he gave the Ambassador a blow upon the cheek with his open hand. It was not heavy, but it was premeditated.
The members of the Embassy closed around Fitz.
"Come into the ballroom, sir," said the Ambassador, who had turned deadly pale.
"When I have seen the Princess into safety I will oblige you," said Fitz. "But it would be more convenient if we arranged a meeting in Paris."
"You shall meet me now, sir," said the Ambassador.
Coverdale moved forward into the circle that had been formed.
"I am afraid that is impossible," said the Chief Constable. "The practice of duelling has no sanction in this country. For all concerned it will surely be more convenient to meet at Paris."
Coverdale's intention was pacific, and he is a man of weight, but the principals in this affair were likely to be too much for him.
"Arbuthnot," said Fitz, "be good enough to accompany the Princess to the Savoy. We will come on presently."
For a moment the issue hung in the balance. The Ambassador had demanded satisfaction and Fitz was more than willing to grant it. But Coverdale was equally resolute. To the best of my capacity I seconded his efforts, but with men so headstrong and so implacable it was almost impossible to exert any kind of authority.
"If you don't care to support me," said Fitz to Coverdale, "perhaps you will not mind taking the place of Arbuthnot. I daresay you other fellows will come on to the ballroom."
To our dismay, Fitz, with a reassumption of the Napoleonic manner, turned towards the staircase.
"What is to be done?" I inquired of the Chief Constable anxiously. "I am a man of peace myself, but one of us must see him through."
"I agree with you—the cursed firebrand! But one of us must stay, and the other must look after the Princess."
The Chief Constable did not conceal the fact that he had a predilection for the latter duty.
"I don't know much about affairs of honour," said I, "and I should greatly prefer that a man of more experience took a thing like this in hand; but I can quite believe that your official position——"
"Official position be damned!" said the Chief Constable. "If you honestly think I shall be of more use than you, there is no more to be said. We are here to make ourselves useful and we must see this thing through."
"Very well, I will look after the Princess, and you go to the ballroom and do what you can to save the situation."