Usk was not a subscriber to the ‘Daily Chronograph,’ and his man-servant, who was, knew his duty far too well to put any questions to his master in the morning, although there was a flutter of pleased excitement diversifying his usual sober demeanour, which Usk noticed with a feeling of miserable surprise.
“Very likely I talked in my sleep,” he said to himself, conscious of having spent a troubled night, and then he mapped out his plan of operations for the day. The morning must be spent at the House of Commons, where he was serving on an important Committee, but in the afternoon he would run down into Kent, to the country-house at which his father was staying, and tell Lord Caerleon all about M. Drakovics and his offer. Having arrived at this decision, he drove to the House without meeting any of his acquaintances, and did his best to concentrate his mind on the work of the Committee, although he could not help glancing furtively at Mr Forfar, who was stretching his long length a few seats from him, and wondering what he would say if he knew the honour which the Thracian Government was desirous of conferring upon his supporter. As it chanced, Mr Forfar had happened to glance at the ‘Chronograph’ before coming down to the House, and was now asking himself languidly whether it was Usk or the editor who had suddenly gone mad, but this Usk did not know. That the secret of his proposed elevation was not confined to himself, however, he discovered as he left the committee-room, when one of his friends rushed past him in a hurry.
“Been reading a lot of lies in the ‘Chronograph’ about you, Usk,” he cried cheerfully. “What rot those newspaper fellows will put in sometimes!”
Then it had got about already! Usk was literally unable to muster up the necessary courage to go and look at the paper, and as he quitted the House he felt guiltily that the members he met turned to look at him, and that the policemen who had the advantage of knowing him by sight were reaping a golden harvest for pointing him out to eager and ignorant questioners. He wanted to see what the ‘Chronograph’ said about him, and to know how it had gained its information, but it seemed much too barefaced a proceeding to walk into a shop and buy a copy. He would go home, and send his servant out to get one. But when he reached his lodgings he found that this was unnecessary. In the arm-chair in his sitting-room sat his father, with a copy of the delinquent journal in his hand.
“Well, Usk,” said Lord Caerleon, “good morning. May I ask whether this is true?” and he held out the paper, which was folded in such a way as to exhibit the headlines to the best advantage.
“I don’t know what they say there,” returned Usk, “but it’s true that Drakovics invited me last night to become King of Thracia. He said he came to England on purpose.”
“Ah!” said Lord Caerleon, meditatively. “Seen Cyril this morning?”
“No,” said Usk, surprised by the sudden question.
“Well, I have, and I can tell you what he is doing now. He is going about with my authority contradicting this report, and talking big about libel actions against the ‘Daily Chronograph.’”
“That strikes one as rather premature, doesn’t it?” said Usk, and his father knew by his tone that he was not pleased.