CHAPTER VIII
AN ULTIMATUM FROM THE THRONE
At half-past twelve that morning business took Mr. Benjamin Scobell tothe royal Palace. He was not a man who believed in letting the grassgrow under his feet. He prided himself on his briskness of attack.Every now and then Mr. Crump, searching the newspapers, would discoverand hand to him a paragraph alluding to his "hustling methods." Whenthis happened, he would preserve the clipping and carry it about in hisvest-pocket with his cigars till time and friction wore it away. Heliked to think of himself as swift and sudden--the Human Thunderbolt.
In this matter of the royal alliance, it was his intention to have atit and clear it up at once. Having put his views clearly before Betty,he now proposed to lay them with equal clarity before the Prince. Therewas no sense in putting the thing off. The sooner all parties concernedunderstood the position of affairs, the sooner the business would besettled.
That Betty had not received his information with joy did not distresshim. He had a poor opinion of the feminine intelligence. Girls got theirminds full of nonsense from reading novels and seeing plays--like Betty.Betty objected to those who were wiser than herself providing a perfectlygood prince for her to marry. Some fool notion of romance, of course. Notthat he was angry. He did not blame her any more than the surgeon blamesa patient for the possession of an unsuitable appendix. There was noanimus in the matter. Her mind was suffering from foolish ideas, and hewas the surgeon whose task it was to operate upon it. That was all. Onehad to expect foolishness in women. It was their nature. The only thingto do was to tie a rope to them and let them run around till they weretired of it, then pull them in. He saw his way to managing Betty.
Nor did he anticipate trouble with John. He had taken an estimate ofJohn's character, and it did not seem to him likely that it containedunsuspected depths. He set John down, as he had told Betty, as a youngman acute enough to know when he had a good job and sufficientlysensible to make concessions in order to retain it. Betty, after themanner of woman, might make a fuss before yielding to the inevitable,but from level-headed John he looked for placid acquiescence.
His mood, as the automobile whirred its way down the hill toward thetown, was sunny. He looked on life benevolently and found it good. Theview appealed to him more than it had managed to do on other days. As arule, he was the man of blood and iron who had no time for admiringscenery, but to-day he vouchsafed it a not unkindly glance. It wascertainly a dandy little place, this island of his. A vineyard on theright caught his eye. He made a mental note to uproot it and run up ahotel in its place. Further down the hill, he selected a site for avilla, where the mimosa blazed, and another where at present there werea number of utterly useless violets. A certain practical element wasapt, perhaps, to color Mr. Scobell's half-hours with nature.
The sight of the steamboat leaving the harbor on its journey toMarseilles gave him another idea. Now that Mervo was a going concern, areal live proposition, it was high time that it should have an adequateservice of boats. The present system of one a day was absurd. He made anote to look into the matter. These people wanted waking up.
Arriving at the Palace, he was informed that His Highness had gone outshortly after breakfast, and had not returned. The majordomo gave theinformation with a tinkle of disapproval in his voice. Before taking uphis duties at Mervo, he had held a similar position in the household ofa German prince, where rigid ceremonial obtained, and John's cheerfuldisregard of the formalities frankly shocked him. To take the presentcase for instance: When His Highness of Swartzheim had felt inclined toenjoy the air of a morning, it had been a domestic event full of stirand pomp. He had not merely crammed a soft hat over his eyes andstrolled out with his hands in his pockets, but without a word to hishousehold staff as to where he was going or when he might be expectedto return.
Mr. Scobell received the news equably, and directed his chauffeur toreturn to the villa. He could not have done better, for, on hisarrival, he was met with the information that His Highness had calledto see him shortly after he had left, and was now waiting in themorning-room.
The sound of footsteps came to Mr. Scobell's ears as he approached theroom. His Highness appeared to be pacing the floor like a caged animalat the luncheon hour. The resemblance was heightened by the expressionin the royal eye as His Highness swung round at the opening of the doorand faced the financier.
"Why, say, Prince," said Mr. Scobell, "this is lucky. I been lookingfor you. I just been to the Palace, and the main guy there told me youhad gone out."
"I did. And I met your stepdaughter."
Mr. Scobell was astonished. Fate was certainly smoothing his way if itarranged meetings between Betty and the Prince before he had time to doit himself. There might be no need for the iron hand after all.
"You did?" he said. "Say, how the Heck did you come to do that? Whatdid you know about Betty?"
"Miss Silver and I had met before, in America, when I was in college."
Mr. Scobell slapped his thigh joyously.
"Gee, it's all working out like a fiction story in the magazines!"
"Is it?" said John. "How? And, for the matter of that, what?"
Mr. Scobell answered question with question. "Say, Prince, you andBetty were pretty good friends in the old days, I guess?"
John looked at him coldly.
"We won't discuss that, if you don't mind," he said.
His tone annoyed Mr. Scobell. Off came the velvet glove, and the ironhand displayed itself. His green eyes glowed dully and the tip of hisnose wriggled, as was its habit in times of emotion.
"Is that so?" he cried, regarding John with disfavor. "Well, I guess!Won't discuss it! You gotta discuss it, Your Royal Texas LeagueHighness! You want making a head shorter, my bucko. You--"
John's demeanor had become so dangerous that he broke off abruptly, andwith an unostentatious movement, as of a man strolling carelessly abouthis private sanctum, put himself within easy reach of the door handle.
He then became satirical.
"Maybe Your Serene, Imperial Two-by-Fourness would care to suggest asubject we can discuss?"
John took a step forward.
"Yes, I will," he said between his teeth. "You were talking to MissSilver about me this morning. She told me one or two of the things yousaid, and they opened my eyes. Until I heard them, I had not quiteunderstood my position. I do now. You said, among other things, that Iwas your hired man."
"It wasn't intended for you to hear," said Mr. Scobell, slightlymollified, "and Betty shouldn't oughter have handed it to you. I don'twonder you feel raw. I wouldn't say that sort of thing to a guy's face.Sure, no. Tact's my middle name. But, since you have heard it, well--!"
"Don't apologize. You were quite right. I was a fool not to see itbefore. No description could have been fairer. You might have said muchmore. You might have added that I was nothing more than a steerer for agambling hell."
"Oh, come, Prince!"
There was a knock at the door. A footman entered, bearing, with adetached air, as if he disclaimed all responsibility, a letter on asilver tray.
Mr. Scobell slit the envelope, and began to read. As he did so his eyesgrew round, and his mouth slowly opened till his cigar stump, afterhanging for a moment from his lower lip, dropped off like an exhaustedbivalve and rolled along the carpet.
"Prince," he gasped, "she's gone. Betty!"
"Gone! What do you mean?"
"She's beaten it. She's half-way to Marseilles by now. Gee, and I sawthe darned boat going out!"
"She's gone!"
"This is from her. Listen what she says:
"_By the time you read this I shall be gone. I am going back to America as quickly as I can. I am giving this to a boy to take to you directly the boat has started. Please do not try to bring me back. I would sooner die than marry the Prince._"
John started violently.
"What!" he cried.
Mr. Scobell nodded sympathy.
"That's what she says. She sur
e has it in bad for you. What does shemean? Seeing you and she are old friends--"
"I don't understand. Why does she say that to you? Why should she thinkthat you knew that I had asked her to marry me?"
"Eh?" cried Mr. Scobell. "You asked her to marry you? And she turnedyou down! Prince, this beats the band. Say, you and I must get togetherand do something. The girl's mad. See here, you aren't wise to what'sbeen happening. I been fixing this thing up. I fetched you over here,and then I fetched Betty, and I was going to have you two marry. I toldBetty all about it this morning."
John cut through his explanations with a sudden sharp cry. A blindingblaze of understanding had flashed upon him. It was as if he had beengroping his way in a dark cavern and had stumbled unexpectedly intobrilliant sunlight. He understood everything now. Every word that Bettyhad spoken, every gesture that she had made, had become amazinglyclear. He saw now why she had shrunk back from him, why her eyes hadworn that look. He dared not face the picture of himself as he musthave appeared in those eyes, the man whom Mr. Benjamin Scobell's Casinowas paying to marry her, the hired man earning his wages by speakingwords of love.
A feeling of physical sickness came over him. He held to the table forsupport as he had held to the sandstone rock. And then came rage, ragesuch as he had never felt before, rage that he had not thought himselfcapable of feeling. It swept over him in a wave, pouring through hisveins and blinding him, and he clung to the table till his knuckleswhitened under the strain, for he knew that he was very near to murder.
A minute passed. He walked to the window, and stood there, looking out.Vaguely he heard Mr. Scobell's voice at his back, talking on, but thewords had no meaning for him.
He had begun to think with a curious coolness. His detachment surprisedhim. It was one of those rare moments in a man's life when, from theoutside, through a breach in that wall of excuses and self-deceptionwhich he has been at such pains to build, he looks at himselfimpartially.
The sight that John saw through the wall was not comforting. It was nota heroic soul that, stripped of its defenses, shivered beneath thescrutiny. In another mood he would have mended the breach, excusing andextenuating, but not now. He looked at himself without pity, and sawhimself weak, slothful, devoid of all that was clean and fine, and abitter contempt filled him.
Outside the window, a blaze of color, Mervo smiled up at him, andsuddenly he found himself loathing its exotic beauty. He felt stifled.This was no place for a man. A vision of clean winds and wide spacescame to him.
And just then, at the foot of the hill, the dome of the Casino caughtthe sun, and flashed out in a blaze of gold.
He swung round and faced Mr. Scobell. He had made up his mind.
The financier was still talking.
"So that's how it stands, Prince," he was saying, "and it's up to us toget busy."
John looked at him.
"I intend to," he said.
"Good boy!" said the financier.
"To begin with, I shall run you out of this place, Mr. Scobell."
The other gasped.
"There is going to be a cleaning-up," John went on. "I've thought itout. There will be no more gambling in Mervo."
"You're crazy with the heat!" gasped Mr. Scobell. "Abolish gambling?You can't."
"I can. That concession of yours isn't worth the paper it's written on.The Republic gave it to you. The Republic's finished. If you want toconduct a Casino in Mervo, there's only one man who can give youpermission, and that's myself. The acts of the Republic are not bindingon me. For a week you have been gambling on this island without aconcession and now it's going to stop. Do you understand?"
"But, Prince, talk sense." Mr. Scobell's voice was almost tearful."It's you who don't understand. Do, for the love of Mike, come down offthe roof and talk sense. Do you suppose that these guys here will standfor this? Not on your life. Not for a minute. See here. I'm not blamingyou. I know you don't know what you're saying. But listen here. Youmust cut out this kind of thing. You mustn't get these ideas in yourhead. You stick to your job, and don't butt in on other folks'. Do youknow how long you'd stay Prince of this joint if you started in tomonkey with my Casino? Just about long enough to let you pack acollar-stud and a toothbrush into your grip. And after that therewouldn't be any more Prince, sonnie. You stick to your job and I'llstick to mine. You're a mighty good Prince for all that's required ofyou. You're ornamental, and you've got get-up in you. You just keepright on being a good boy, and don't start trying stunts off your ownbeat, and you'll do fine. Don't forget that I'm the big noise here. I'mold Grayback from 'way back in Mervo. See! I've only to twiddle myfingers and there'll be a revolution and you for the Down-and-Out Club.Don't you forget it, sonnie."
John shrugged his shoulders.
"I've said all I have to say. You've had your notice to quit. Afterto-night the Casino is closed."
"But don't I tell you the people won't stand for it?"
"That's for them to decide. They may have some self-respect."
"They'll fire you!"
"Very well. That will prove that they have not."
"Prince, talk sense! You can't mean that you'll throw away a hundredthousand dollars a year as if it was dirt!"
"It is dirt when it's made that way. We needn't discuss it any more."
"But, Prince!"
"It's finished."
"But, say--!"
John had left the room.
He had been gone several minutes before the financier recovered fullpossession of his faculties.
When he did, his remarks were brief and to the point.
"Bug-house!" he gasped. "Abso-lutely bug-house!"
The Prince and Betty Page 8
