Like most rumors, the ones in question possessed a certain percentage of truth and fact mixed with a far larger percentage of fiction.
It was indeed true that Kearns had been taken in high favor by the King. Whether it was Mr. Kearns’s particular aptitude for impressing people, or whether it was due to some peculiar intuition, the fact remained that His Majesty entertained the belief that he was the one man above all others suited to occupy the position of his confidential Secret Service Chief and that it was he who was destined to unravel the various mysteries with which His Majesty had in the past been annoyed. There was this much to be said in favor of Kearns—he was free from any political affiliations and could not by any possibility be mixed up with any Court, or outside, influences: an extremely desirable man, therefore, from this viewpoint alone.
As for Mr. Kearns, he maintained much the same demeanor and policy with the King that he had adopted when under the interrogatory fire of individual members of the Court. As a result of the last visitation, the King had found in his chamber another threatening document, which set forth that this was the final warning; that only a few days’ grace was accorded for his compliance with previous demands and that, failing this, the impending doom would descend.
The King wanted to know many particulars: the disappearance of Captain Mortimer; the wounding of Captain Swords.
Kearns adhered staunchly and steadfastly to his invariable rule never to make partial disclosures; never to say anything until his case was complete. There was really much to commend itself in this plan. Every additional person to whom information was imparted, he considered, created an additional chance of a leak; again, if by any chance one was on the wrong track one could retrace one’s steps without letting anyone know of the error into which one had fallen and thus lessening confidence generally and the illusion as to one’s infallibility. But the feature which, perhaps, weighed most of all with Mr. Kearns was that a case told bit by bit, lost much of the dramatic sensationalism accompanying the disclosure of the completed investigation. And Mr. Kearns loved sensationalism and dramatic effect. He was an artist who sought to flash up the lights suddenly upon his mise en scène, and the groupings after discovery, the false scents followed up, the wrong suspicions, the mistakes and all the precise methods employed finally to reach the truth were so much paraphernalia of the completed production which he desired to keep out of sight.
Following his system he had told the King practically nothing, except that “satisfactory progress” was being made and that he would be prepared to submit a completed case “in due course.” The wounding of Captain Swords and the disappearance of Captain Mortimer were incidents concerning which he would prefer not to furnish information at the present stage. All would be duly disclosed when the case was completed. At this the King had frowned, but Mr. Kearns was firm. The understanding when he had taken up the matter was that he should be permitted to employ his own methods—methods which had been tested and had proved successful in the past—and unless he were permitted to follow out these methods, he would not be answerable for results and would prefer to be relieved from further prosecution of the inquiry. As the King was intensely eager for the successful prosecution of the inquiry, and as Kearns was a man who spoke with confidence in his ultimate success, the King arrived at the conclusion that it was best to permit him to pursue matters in his own peculiar way. Should his predictions ultimately turn out a mere fiasco, the royal favor could be withdrawn and Kearns driven forth in disgrace.
Lord Ashley, too, had approached Kearns, intimating diplomatically that they work together. Faced with this situation, Kearns rapidly cast matters over in his mind and decided to adhere to his customary policy. He could see nothing to be gained by filtering out such information as he possessed to Lord Ashley; on the other side, there might be distinct disadvantages in disclosing his hand and showing how little he so far really held there. Lord Ashley had, therefore, failed to secure anything from Kearns, which circumstance he seemed to accept with rather bad grace.
As a matter of fact, Kearns was sorely puzzled. Summing up all he really knew, it amounted to but little. He knew how the visitations by the enemies of the King were contrived, but as to who these enemies were, where they lurked and what their resources and objects were, he was still in the dark. He shrewdly surmised the facts of the attempt upon the life of Captain Swords; still that was a mere collateral incident and did not avail him to any appreciable extent. Lastly, he knew the details accompanying the disappearance of Captain Mortimer, but with the possession of these details his knowledge in that direction reached its limit.
What had become of Captain Mortimer and Professor Dean? Kearns felt he had made a very close guess as to the actual truth. That they had met with some disaster to their air-ship and been hurled to destruction was, of course, possible; but Kearns did not accept this theory. He had the utmost confidence in the Professor. He was a cautious man; knew well what he was about; had made careful tests of his air-ship, and had said it could fly. This was enough to convince Kearns. Besides, if an accident had happened, news of it from some source would have been had. In this way Kearns deduced the truth, though for him it was only a theory that in following up the pursuit they had either been led into some trap or else overpowered by those whom they followed and made prisoners.
Kearns had not been blind to this latter possibility from the beginning. The danger of it had occupied his attention long before the Professor and Mortimer had started, but it was a danger he saw no way of averting under the circumstances. There was nothing to be done but to run the risk.