III
THE ROYAL COUNCIL
Count Epping was the last of the five Ministers to arrive at the Council, the following morning. He came in, a few minutes before the hour, acknowledged with grave courtesy, but brief words, the greetings of the others, and when his secretary had put his dispatch box on the table he immediately opened it and busied himself with his papers. It was his way—and none of them had ever seen him otherwise; but now there seemed to be a special significance in his silence and preoccupation.
The failure of the Court Journal to appear that morning had broken a custom that ante-dated the memory of man, and the information which was promptly conveyed to the Ministers that it was delayed until evening, and by the personal order of the Prime Minister, had provoked both amazement and expectancy. It could mean only that the paper was being held for something that must be in that day’s issue, and as they had promptly disclaimed to one another all responsibility, the inference was not difficult that it had to do with the new King’s first proclamation.
“The Count was at the Castle last evening,” Duval, the War Minister, had remarked, “and I assumed it was to submit the proclamation and have it signed.”
Baron Retz, the Minister of Justice, shrugged his shoulders.
“May be you assumed correctly,” he remarked.
The others looked at him with quick interest, but got only a smile and another shrug.
“Then why didn’t he sign it?” Duval demanded.
The Baron leaned back in his chair and studied the ceiling. “When you say ‘he,’ you mean——?”
“The King, of course,” the other snapped. “Who the devil else would I mean?”