By a cable from Paris received shortly before going to press, we learn that yesterday evening a revolution broke out in Livadia, which appears already to have attained wide-spread proportions. So far, information is scanty, for the telegraph wires over the frontier have been cut, and the cable station at Portriga is in the hands of one or other of the belligerents.
It appears, however, that the revolt started simultaneously in the neighbourhood of Vanessa and also in the Capital. At both places the Royal Standard was raised by a strong party of King Pedro's adherents, and in both instances the Republican government seem to have been taken more or less by surprise. Vanessa is said to be entirely in the hands of the Royalists, who have also succeeded in occupying the greater part of Portriga.
The situation is complicated by another revolt in the South, where the partisans of the late Don Francisco, the Pretender, have also seized the opportunity to assert their claims. A strong force, under the leadership of General Almaida, is reported to be marching on the Capital, where the Republicans and the Royalists are still engaged in bitter and sanguinary street fighting. It is rumoured that the President has already left the country.
From inquiries at Richmond we learn that King Pedro and the Marquis da Freitas are still in England, but in response to numerous invitations they have so far declined to issue any statement to the Press.
All further details available will be found in the first edition of The Evening News.
Having read this interesting announcement through slowly and carefully, Tony laid down the paper and sat back in his chair.
So Congosta had been right! Underneath all the rather penny coloured plotting and cheap melodrama that had surrounded Isabel's story, a savagely real piece of European history had been silently coming to fruition. He had never doubted the fact himself, but somehow or other those flaming head-lines in the Mail suddenly brought it home to him with a vivid reality that had hitherto been wanting. It was as if the buttons had come off the foils, and what had hitherto been an entertaining fencing match had turned abruptly into a thrilling and dangerous duel.
With a pleasing sense of elation he drew up his chair, and prepared to face the grilled sole that the waiter was just bringing in.
"You might tell my chauffeur," he said, "that we will start back at half-past ten instead of eleven."
The waiter went out with the message, but a couple of minutes had hardly elapsed before he came back into the room bearing a telegram upon a small tray.