“You mean that the son of a very poor marquis hasn’t much chance, then? But Mr Steinherz will feel that even more strongly than you do, don’t you see?”
“No, sir, he will not. Mushroom coronets he has no use for, but he knows there’s nothing shoddy about you. And don’t have your natural modesty blind you to the show side of your family record. It’s not every poor marquis that has taken his seat on a European throne, even for three months, or has seen his brother the wonder of four continents and the husband of a queen.”
“You are getting positively epic,” said Usk, his tone becoming unconsciously more cheerful.
“I guess my subject inspires me, sir. Any news of your uncle these days, by the way? Not worrying himself sick, I hope?”
“He seems well enough, but his brain-power doesn’t return.”
“Does he incline to plunge into politics again, or has he concluded to stick to his snug estate way back there?”
“He is as happy there as he would be anywhere, I think. Nothing has been said about his coming to Europe.”
“Now it’s a curious thing,” remarked Mr Hicks meditatively, “but a whole crowd of the Jews have their eyes fixed upon him yet. They see that while he was boss, things went ahead, but when he dropped out, the outfit went to smash right away. Well, they suspicion that he was intrigued off the stage by the millionaires, so they just incline to intrigue him back there. They are plotting to fix things so’s they can invite him along again. The Prince of the Captivity, they call him, after some old cuss that hung out his sign in those parts sometime, and they have passwords and ciphers, and every requisite of a properly equipped plot on the largest scale.”
“I’m afraid they’ll be disappointed. He won’t let them thrust him into a position that he could not fill with satisfaction to himself.”
“They’ll just have to invite you to operate the scheme instead of him.”