“Quite so. By the way, I have the Queen’s express orders that nothing is to be done to prejudice the safety of those of our people who are in their power. There is my clerk Paschics, who was arrested when passing through Ortojuk with us, and all the ladies and officials whom we left at Tatarjé to cover the Queen’s flight. They are to be saved at all costs.”
“It is unfortunate for us that they are in the hands of the rebels, for they may be used to extort terms from the Queen.”
“I fear they are bound to be, if you will do everything in such a leisurely way. Why, a small force of irregulars, starting from Prince Mirkovics’s castle, and travelling, as we did, by the old road, could make a dash on Tatarjé and capture it before any one knew that an expedition had started.”
“Your ideas are too adventurous, Count. We cannot engage in a guerilla warfare on our own soil, when we are blessed with generals competent to direct a regular war. The matter is in the hands of Constantinovics, who has drawn up his plan of campaign——”
“Which means ‘Hands off!’ to civilians, I suppose?” said Cyril, laughing. “Well, I think I had better intrust to you, for Constantinovics, this paper in her Majesty’s handwriting. It is a list of the people who assisted or befriended us in the course of our escape, and who are to be protected and rewarded in every possible way. The Queen drew it up at the council yesterday.”
“The list appears to be a somewhat miscellaneous one,” said M. Drakovics, glancing through the paper. “A charcoal-burner, an old servant, the Jews of Karajevo, a mad revolutionary! My dear Count, your adventures must have outdone the ‘Arabian Nights’ if you were reduced to seeking assistance from such people as these.”
“We had not the luck we hoped for, certainly, and I was obliged to modify our plans from time to time. You will see that Constantinovics gets the list?”
“No, I will do better than that; I will intrust it to my nephew Vassili, who is to accompany the expedition as my representative.”
“You did not tell me that we were all to be represented.” Cyril’s suspicions rose again in full force at this piece of intelligence. Vassili Drakovics was popularly supposed to be his uncle’s destined successor as Premier and ruler of Thracia, and Cyril regarded him with a distrust which was only tempered by contempt. “I almost think I shall go in person,” he added carelessly, without appearing to look at the Premier.
“My dear Count! just when it is so necessary that I should have you at hand for consultations? And you are mistaken in thinking that Ministers are to be represented individually on the staff of the expedition. The fact is,”—M. Drakovics bent forward confidentially, but there was a good deal of uneasiness in the way in which his hand shuffled the papers,—“it is in my interests that Vassili is going. There is a—a letter of mine which I fear may be put to a wrong use unless I can get it back into my own hands.”