“You should consult an oculist,” he declared. “I have not left this chair. My foot is still too painful.”
“You lie well, Prince,” I answered, “but not well enough.”
He looked at me thoughtfully.
“I am endeavouring,” he said, “to accommodate myself to the customs of this wonderful country of yours. In France one sends one’s seconds. What do you do here to a man who calls you a liar?”
“We treat him,” I answered hotly, “as the man deserves to be treated who abuses the hospitality of a stranger, and places himself in the position of a common thief.”
The Prince shrugged his shoulders lightly, and helped himself to one of my cigarettes.
“You are very young, Mr. Ducaine,” he said, looking at me thoughtfully. “You have no doubt your career to make in the world. So, in a greater sense of the word, have I. I propose, if you will allow me, to be quite frank with you.”
“I have no wish for your confidences, Prince,” I answered. “They cannot possibly concern or interest me.”
“Do not be too sure of that,” he said. “Like all young men of your age, you jump too readily at conclusions. It is very possible that you and I may be of service to one another, and I may add that those who have been of service to the Prince of Malors have seldom had cause to regret it.”
“This conversation,” I interposed, “seems to me to be beside the point. I have no desire to be of service to you. My inclinations are rather the other way.”
“The matter may become more clear to you if you will only curb your impatience, my young friend,” the Prince said. “It is only my ambition to serve my country, to command the gratitude of a nation which to-day regards both me and mine with mingled doubt and suspicion. I have ambitions, and I should be an easy and generous master to serve.”
“I am honoured with your confidence, Prince, but I still fail to see how these matters concern me,” I said, setting my teeth hard.
“With your permission I will make it quite clear,” he continued. “For years your War Office has suffered from constant dread of an invasion by France. The rumour of our great projected manoeuvres in the autumn have inspired your statesmen with an almost paralysing fear. They see in these merely an excuse for marshalling and equipping an irresistible army within striking distance of your Empire. Personally I believe that they are entirely mistaken in their estimate of my country’s intentions. That, however, is beside the mark. You follow me?”
“Perfectly,” I assured him. “This is most interesting, although as yet it seems to me equally irrelevant.”
“Your War Office,” the Prince continued, “has established a Secret Council of Defence, whose only task it is to plan the successful resistance to that invasion, if ever it should take place. You, Mr. Ducaine, are, I believe, practically the secretary of that Council. You have to elaborate the digests of the meetings, to file schemes for the establishment of fortifications and camps; in a word, the result of these meetings passes through your hands. I will not beat about the bush, Mr. Ducaine. You can see that you have something in your keeping which, if passed on to me, would accomplish my whole aim. The army would be forced to acknowledge my claim upon them; the nation would hear of it.”
“Well,” I asked, “supposing all you say is true? What then?”
“You are a little obtuse, Mr. Ducaine,” the Prince said softly. “If twenty thousand pounds would quicken your understanding—”
I picked up a small inkpot from the side of the table and hurled it at him. He sprang aside, but it caught the corner of his forehead, and he gave a shrill cry of pain. He struck a fierce blow at me, which I parried, and a moment later we were locked in one another’s arms. I think that we must have been of equal strength, for we swayed up and down the room, neither gaining the advantage, till I felt my breath come short and my head dizzy. Nevertheless, I was slowly gaining the mastery. My grasp upon his throat was tightening. I had hold of his collar and tie, and I could have strangled him with a turn of my wrist. Just then the door opened. There was a quick exclamation of horrified surprise in a familiar tone. I threw him from me to the ground, and turned my head. It was Lady Angela who stood upon the threshold.
XIV. A RELUCTANT APOLOGY
Table of Contents
Lady Angela looked at us both in cold surprise.
“Mr. Ducaine! Prince!” she exclaimed. “What is the meaning of this extraordinary exhibition?”
The Prince, whose sangfroid was marvellous, rose to his feet, and began to wipe his forehead with a spotless cambric handkerchief.
“My dear Lady Angela,” he said, “I am most distressed that you should have been a witness of this—extraordinary incident. I have been trying to adapt myself to the methods of your country, but, alas! I cannot say that I am enamoured of them. Here, it seems, that gentlemen who differ must behave like dustmen. Will you pardon me if I turn my back to you for a moment? I see a small mirror, and I am convinced that my tie and collar need readjustment.”
“But why quarrel at all?” she exclaimed. “Mr. Ducaine,” she added, turning coolly to me, “I trust you have remembered that the Prince is my father’s guest.”
I was speechless, but the Prince himself intervened.
“The blame, if any,” he declared, “was mine. Mr. Ducaine appeared to misunderstand me from the first. I believe that his little ebullition arose altogether from too great zeal on behalf of his employers. I congratulate him upon it, while I am bound to deprecate his extreme measures.”
“And you, Mr. Ducaine,” she asked, turning towards me, “what have you to say?”
“Nothing,” I declared, stung by her tone and manner as much as by his coolness, “except that I found the Prince of Malors meddling with my private papers, and subsequently I interrupted him in the offer of a bribe.”
The Prince smoothed his necktie, which he had really tied very well, complacently.
“The personal belongings of Mr. Ducaine,” he said calmly, “are without interest to me. I fancy that the Prince of Malors can ignore any suggestions to the contrary. As for the bribe, Mr. Ducaine talks folly. I am not aware that he has anything to sell, and I decline to believe him a blackmailer. I prefer to look upon him as a singularly hot-headed and not over-intelligent person, who takes very long jumps at conclusions. Lady Angela, I find my foot much better. May I have the pleasure of escorting you to the house?”
I held my tongue, knowing very well that the Prince played his part solely that I might be entrapped into speech. But Lady Angela seemed puzzled at my silence. She looked at me for a moment inquiringly out of her soft dark eyes. I made no sign. She turned away to the Prince.
“If you are sure that you can walk without pain,” she said. “We will not trouble you, Mr. Ducaine,” she added, as I moved to open the door.
So they left me alone, and I was not sure whether the honours remained with him or with me. He had never for a moment lost his dignity, nor had he even looked ridiculous when calmly rearranging his tie and collar. I laughed to myself bitterly as I prepared to follow them. I was determined to lay the whole matter before the Duke at once.
As I reached the terrace I saw a man walking up and down, smoking a pipe. He stood at the top of the steps and waited for me. It was Colonel Ray. He took me by the arm.
“I have been waiting for you, Ducaine,” he said. “I was afraid that I might miss you, or I should have come down.”
“I am on my way to the Duke,” I said, “and my business is urgent.”
“So is mine,” he said grimly. “I want to know exactly what has passed between you and the Prince of Malors.”
“I am not at all sure, Colonel Ray,” I answered, “that I am at liberty to tell you. At any rate, I think that I ought to see the Duke first.”
His face darkened, his eyes seemed to flash threatening fires upon me. He was smoking so furiously that little hot shreds of tobacco fell from his pipe.
“Boy,” he exclaimed, “there are limits even to my for
bearance. You are where you are at my suggestion, and I could as easily send you adrift. I do not say this as a threat, but I desire to be treated with common consideration. I appeal to your reason. Is it well to treat me like an enemy?”
“Whether you are indeed my friend or my enemy I am not even now sure,” I answered. “I am learning to be suspicious of every person and thing which breathes. But as for this matter between the Prince and myself, it can make little difference who knows the truth. He shammed a fall over the cliff and a sprained ankle. Lady Angela and I started for the house to send a cart for him, but, before we were halfway across the Park, Grooton fetched me back. I found the Prince examining the papers on which I had been working, and when I charged him with it he offered me a bribe.”
“And you?”
“I struck him!”
Ray groaned.
“You struck him! And you had him in your power—to play with as you would. And you struck him! Oh, Ducaine, you are very, very young. I am your friend, boy, or rather I would be if you would let me. But I am afraid that you are a blunderer.”
I faced him with white face.
“I seem to have found my way into a strange place,” I answered. “I have neither wit nor cunning enough to know true men from false. I would trust you, but you are a murderer. I would have trusted the Prince of Malors, but he has proved himself a common adventurer. So I have made up my mind that all shall be alike. I will be neither friend nor foe to any mortal, but true to my country. I go my way and do my duty, Colonel Ray.”
He blew out dense volumes of smoke, puffing furiously at his pipe for several minutes. There seemed to be many things which he had it in his mind to say to me. But, as though suddenly altering his purpose, he stood on one side.
“You shall go your own way,” he said grimly. “The Lord only knows where it will take you.”
It took me in the first place to the Duke, to whom I recounted briefly what had happened. I could see that my story at once made a deep impression upon him. When I had finished he sat for several minutes deep in thought. For the first time since I had known him he seemed nervous and ill at ease. He was unusually pale, and there were deep lines engraven about his mouth. One hand was resting upon the table, and I fancied that his fingers were shaking.
“The Prince of Malors,” he said at last, and his voice lacked altogether its usual ring of cool assurance, “is of Royal blood. He is not even in touch with the political powers of France to-day. He may have been guilty of a moment’s idle curiosity—”
“Your Grace must forgive me,” I interrupted, “but you are overlooking facts. The fall over the cliff was premeditated, the sprained foot was a sham, the whole affair was clearly planned in order that he might be left alone in my room. Besides, there is the bribe.”
The Duke folded his hands nervously together. He looked away from me into the fire.
“It is a very difficult position,” he declared, “very difficult indeed. The Prince has been more than a friend to Blenavon. He has been his benefactor. Of course he will deny this thing with contempt. Let me think it out, Ducaine.”
“By all means, your Grace,” I answered, a little nettled at his undecided air. “So far as I am concerned, my duty in the matter ends here. I have, told you the exact truth concerning it, and it seems to me by no means improbable that the Prince has been in some way responsible for those former leakages.”
The Duke shook his head slowly.
“It is impossible,” he said.
“Your Grace is the best judge,” I answered.
“The Prince was not in the house last night when the safe was opened, he objected.
“He probably has accomplices,” I answered. “Besides, how do we know that he was not here?”
“Even if he were,” the Duke said, raising his head, “how could he have known the cipher?”
I made no answer at all. It seemed useless to argue with a man who had evidently made up his mind not to be convinced.
“Have you mentioned this matter to any one?” the Duke asked.
“To Colonel Ray only, your Grace,” I answered.
“Ray!” The Duke was silent for a moment. He was looking steadily into the fire. “You told Ray what you have told me?”
“In substance, yes, your Grace. In detail, perhaps not so fully.”
“And he?”
“He did not doubt my story, your Grace,” I said quietly.
The Duke frowned across at me.
“Neither do I, Ducaine,” he declared. “It is not a question of veracity at all. It is a question of construction. You are young, and these things are all new to you. The Prince might have been trying you, or something which you did not hear or have forgotten might throw a different light upon his actions and suggestion. I beg that you will leave the matter entirely in my hands.”
I abandoned the subject then and there. But as I left the room I came face to face with Blenavon, who was loitering outside. He at once detained me. His manner since the morning had altered. He addressed me now with hesitation, almost with respect.
“Can you spare me a few minutes, Mr. Ducaine?” he asked. “I will not detain you long.”
“I am at your service, Lord Blenavon,” I answered. “We will go into the hall and have a smoke,” he suggested, leading the way. “To me it seems the only place in the house free from draughts.”
I followed him to where, in a dark corner of the great dome-shaped hall, a wide cushioned lounge was set against the wall. He seated himself and motioned me to follow his example. For several moments he remained silent, twisting a cigarette with thin nervous fingers stained yellow with nicotine. Every now and then he glanced furtively around. I waited for him to speak. He was Lady Angela’s brother, but I disliked and distrusted him.
He finally got his cigarette alight, and turned to me.
“Mr. Ducaine,” he said, “I want you to apologize to my friend, the Prince of Malors, for your behaviour this afternoon.”
“Apologize to the Prince!” I exclaimed. “Why should I?”
“Because this is the only condition on which he will consent to remain here.”
“I should have thought,” I said, “that his immediate departure was inevitable. I detected him in behaviour—”
“That is just where you are wrong,” Blenavon interrupted eagerly. “You were mistaken, entirely mistaken.”
I laughed, a little impolitely, I am afraid, considering that this was the son of my employer.
“You know the circumstances?” I asked. He nodded.
“The Prince has explained them to me. It was altogether a misunderstanding. He felt his foot a little easier, and he was simply looking for a newspaper or something to read until you returned. Inadvertently he turned over some of your manuscript, and at that moment you entered.”
“Most inopportunely, I am afraid,” I answered, with an unwilling smile. “I am sorry, Lord Blenavon, that I cannot accept this explanation of the Prince’s behaviour. I am compelled to take the evidence of my eyes and ears as final.”
Blenavon sucked at his cigarette fiercely for a minute, threw it away, and commenced to roll another.
“It’s all rot!” he exclaimed. “Malors wouldn’t do a mean action, and, besides, what on earth has he to gain? He is a fanatical Royalist. He is not even on speaking terms with the Government of France to-day.”
“I perceive,” I remarked, looking at him closely, “that you are familiar with the nature of my secretarial work.”
He returned my glance, and it seemed to me that there was some hidden meaning in his eyes which I failed to catch.
“I am in my father’s confidence,” he said slowly.
There was a moment’s silence. I was listening to a distant voice in the lower part of the hall.
“Am I to take it, Mr. Ducaine, then,” he said at last, “that you decline to apologize to the Prince?”
“I have nothing to apologize for,” I answered calmly. “The Prince was attempting to obtain infor
mation in an illicit manner by the perusal of papers which were in my charge.”
Blenavon rose slowly to his feet. His eyes were fixed upon the opposite corner of the hall. Lady Angela, who had just descended the stairs, was standing there, pale and unsubstantial as a shadow, and it seemed to me that her eyes, as she looked across at me, were full of trouble. She came slowly towards us. Blenavon laid his hand upon her arm.
“Angela,” he said, “Mr. Ducaine will not accept my word. I can make no impression upon him. Perhaps he will the more readily believe yours.”
“Lady Angela will not ask me to disbelieve the evidence of my own senses,” I said confidently.
She stood between us. I was aware from the first of something unfamiliar in her manner, something of which a glimmering had appeared on our way home through the wood.
“It is about Malors, Angela,” he continued. “You were there. You know all that happened. Malors is very reasonable about it. He admits that his actions may have seemed suspicious. He will accept an apology from Mr. Ducaine, and remain.”
She turned to me.
“And you?” she asked.
“The idea of an apology,” I answered, “appears to me ridiculous. My own poor little possessions were wholly at his disposal. I caught him, however, in the act of meddling with papers which are mine only on trust.”
Lady Angela played for a moment with the dainty trifles which hung from her bracelet. When she spoke she did not look at me.
“The Prince’s explanation,” she said, “is plausible, and he is our guest. I think perhaps it would be wisest to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“Doubt!” I exclaimed, bewildered. “There is no room for doubt in the matter.”
Then she raised her eyes to mine, and I saw there new things. I saw trouble and appeal, and behind both the shadow of mystery.
“Have you spoken to my father?” she asked.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Did he accept—your view?”
“He did not,” I answered bitterly. “I could not convince him of what I saw with my own eyes.”
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