The Weight of the Crown

And now this had come on the top of it all. There was no reason to doubt that the veritable ruler of Asturia had met with an accident, seeing that the Herald had proclaimed the fact that he was already on his way to his kingdom. Lechmere shook his head as he read.

"Is this foul play or another link in the amazing chain?" Jessie asked.

"I should say foul play," Lechmere replied. "We have a most dangerous foe to contend with. And at any hazards the king must be kept from reaching his capital just now. I should not wonder if the special train had been deliberately wrecked – "

"It makes one's heart bleed for the queen," Jessie murmured. "If she comes successfully out of this."

"She won't," said Lechmere curtly. "She is only Asturian by marriage, and the people had never really cared for her, devoted as she is to their interests. They want to get rid of the king. If he abdicates, then Russia comes in. If he were killed at this moment, Russia would still come in. But given a few days longer and Prince Alix will be in Asturia. This is the man the populace want. If they can once proclaim him, Russia is checkmated. You see how things stand?"

"It would break the heart of the queen," Jessie said.

"I think not. She would worry for a time, but her position is intolerable. The present king's life hangs on a thread, the next plunge into dissipation may kill him. And then Asturia would know the queen no longer. She would marry Maxgregor, who worships the ground she walks on, and for the first time in her life would taste real happiness. And now I shall leave you. It is necessary that I should see Prince Peretori at once."

And Lechmere hastened away in pursuit of the Prince. They missed one another by a few minutes but they met at length. Needless to say, Peretori had heard the news.

"You can see exactly what has happened," the latter said. "Countess Saens has gone off in a great hurry to see if she could prevent the king from reaching Asturia. If he reaches his capital what will happen will be this – he will be invited at once to attend a conference and place himself freely and unreservedly in the hands of his ministers. They will ask him to proclaim his abdication in favour of Prince Alix."

"I see," Lechmere said thoughtfully. "That knocks Russia out. But if the king does not get there at all?"

Peretori chuckled as if something amused him.

"The king is going to get there," he said. "He will be rather damaged by his accident, but he will get there all the same. I'll see to that."

"If you have some scheme in your mind, I should like to know what it is," Lechmere said.

"Not at present, my dear fellow. I did a very foolish thing last night and I am anxious to try and wipe it out. I calculate that I can arrive on the scene of the accident by dark to-night, by using a despatch boat which Lord Merehaven has placed at my disposal. I am going alone and I am going to disguise myself. I may send you a telegram this evening, if I do, hold yourself in readiness to follow me. So far as my cousin and his consort are concerned, Asturia is dead. But it is not going to fall into the lap of Russia all the same."

Nothing that Lechmere could say served to break Peretori's obstinate silence. He had a plan of his own and he was going to carry it out if necessary.

"Go and see the queen," he urged, "go and see Maxgregor. Unless I am greatly mistaken in the character of the queen, she is pretty certain to follow Erno. If she does she is equally certain to make a mess of it. She must not go, and Maxgregor must prevent it. Put Maxgregor in a cab if it is possible to move him, and see that he keeps the queen here. Tell Maxgregor that I am going to put the third scheme into operation."

"You have seen Maxgregor to-day?" Lechmere asked in some surprise.

"Yes, I saw him early to-day and talked matters over. He abused me in the most shameful manner, but I had to put up with it. Good bye."

Peretori jumped into a passing hansom and was whirled away, leaving Lechmere to his own thoughts. But Peretori's advice was singularly sound from that usually feather-headed individual, and Lechmere decided to go as far as Maxgregor's at once. Maxgregor was sitting up in bed impatiently fuming over an evening paper which lay propped up before him.

"This is a nice mess," he exclaimed. "Of course that special train was wrecked deliberately. Not that it very much matters, seeing that Peretori – but perhaps you have not seen him? You have? Good! Did he send any kind of message to me?"

"Yes," Lechmere replied. "He said that he was going to put the third programme into execution."

Maxgregor chuckled and his dark angry face relaxed. He managed to crawl out of bed, but he was still very weak and staggering. He dressed with Lechmere's assistance.

"Call a cab and take me as far as the queen's hotel," he said. "I must see her majesty alone. It is important that she keeps quiet at this junction. She must be persuaded to drive about and show herself just as if nothing had happened."

But there was nothing quiet about the queen as the two arrived at the hotel. She was pacing up and down the morning room, despite Vera Galloway's efforts to soothe her. The girl lay on a couch, for her ankle was still giving her a deal of pain.

"So you have managed to come to me, brave heart," the queen cried, as she held out both hands to Maxgregor. "What should I do without your devoted courage? Are you well enough to accompany me across the Channel. I am going at once."

"You are going to do nothing of the kind, madame," Maxgregor said sternly. "The thing is already in the most capable hands. May I beg a few words in private with you?"

The queen led the way into an inner room. Vera turned eagerly to Lechmere. Her face was pale and her eyes were heavy with the tears that she was too proud to let fall.

"Is there anything fresh to tell me?" she demanded eagerly. "I did not care to mention my private grief before the queen, who has been so good to me. But Charles Maxwell was in that train also. If there has been a bad accident, if it is to be called an accident – "

"It was no accident," Lechmere said grimly. "The thing was done deliberately. And we dare not make too many enquiries because it may arouse suspicion. Try and fix your mind on something else. It is just as imperative now as it was yesterday to regain possession of those papers you risked so much to get."

"If we could only find them," Vera sighed. "If we only knew into whose hands they had fallen!"

"Well, as a matter of fact we do know that," Lechmere said coolly. "Also we know exactly where they are. And I am going to try and obtain possession of them this very day. The mere fact of those papers coming back into our hands would go far to free Maxwell from suspicion. You follow me?"

It was quite plain that Vera followed. As much of recent events as he dared Lechmere told her. He would be back in a little time, he said, but meanwhile he was going as far as the house of Countess Saens with the object of having another talk with Annette.

Lechmere's mind was perfectly well occupied as he walked along. He had nearly reached his destination when a cab pulled up before the residence of the Countess of Saens. A tall graceful figure carefully cloaked and veiled stepped out and darted for the house without paying the cabman. Evidently the graceful figure had taken alarm at somebody in the road.

"By Jove, it's me," Lechmere muttered. "And that was the countess, for a million. Now what brings her back in a break-neck hurry like this?"

CHAPTER XLIII

IN SEARCH OF THE KING

Lechmere had plenty of time before him to think out the problem. It would be utterly useless for him to try and see Annette at any rate for some time to come. There was consolation in the fact, too, that Annette would have no opportunity at present for dealing with the papers. Returned to the hotel, Lechmere found that Maxgregor had succeeded in getting his own way with the queen, who had evidently abandoned the idea of going to Paris. She even seemed quite cheerful and resigned.

It was quite late in the evening before Lechmere received his message from Peretori. It must have been an expensive one, for it was long: —

"Come over by the night boat," it ran, "accident took place half way between Calais and Paris, near a station called Amiens. Drive there from the junction at Poiteux and do not let yourself be seen, as Mazaroff is here. Ask for Pierre Loti's hut and there await developments. Above all things take care not to be seen. And I am on my way Eastward."

The thing was vague and in a way unsatisfactory. There was no news of the king in it, which was bad, as if some tragedy had happened that the sender of the telegram was afraid to put into evidence. And the mention of Mazaroff made matters distinctly worse. That rascal was evidently acting as deputy to the countess, who had been recalled to England by some urgent business. But perhaps, after all, she had not crossed the Channel, perhaps she was satisfied to find that the scheme to wreck the special train was certain to prove successful. At any rate she was back in England and would have to be watched. The only man who could do that was Ronald Hope. Lechmere found him at length at Jessie's lodgings talking over matters with her and Ada.

"I will do anything you like," Hope said cheerfully. "My mind is quite at rest now that Jessie is free. My dear fellow, you managed that matter very cleverly indeed."

"Only a little diplomacy," Lechmere smiled. "After all said and done, Annette told no lie. Most emphatically she never saw Miss Harcourt in the countess's house that night. Keep an eye on that clever lady for me and carefully report all her doings. As for me, I am crossing the Channel to-night and I may be away for a day or two. And don't forget one thing – the papers we are looking for are still in Countess Saens's house."

With this significant message, Lechmere departed. The Channel passage was right enough, but the trouble to get to Poiteux was immense. The local trains were few and the breakdown of the line seemed to have disturbed everything. It was nearly dark the next night before Lechmere reached the next village. There was an hotel of sorts there, and at first Lechmere considered the advisability of seeking rooms there. But the idea of coming face to face with Mazaroff was not to be thought of. A railway porter offered his assistance, and Lechmere gladly availed himself of his help. The accident, so he gathered, had been caused by a defective rail on the track, a sufficiently strange thing, seeing that the line at that point had just been overhauled by the authorities. Lechmere's guide significantly hinted that the police were not quite satisfied with the explanation and that one or two suspicious characters had been arrested.

"Have you any stranger staying here just now?" Lechmere asked.

"But one, sir," the porter proceeded to explain: "a gentleman at the hotel. He came here to see the Duc de Mornay, but he is away from here. So the gentleman is staying in the hotel."

"Fine man with a dark moustache and pointed beard?" Lechmere asked.

The porter intimated that the description was fairly accurate and Lechmere asked no further questions on that head. He knew quite well that Mazaroff was not far off. But what was the enemy doing here after the desired mischief had been accomplished. There was only one more question to ask. What had become of the King of Asturia? The porter put up his hand with a gesture of impatience.

"That is the puzzle," he said. "There were two gentlemen with the king when the accident happened; they are not badly hurt, M'sieu will understand, and they are at two cottages in the village. They are visited from time to time by the gentleman who is stopping at the hotel."

"Spy," Lechmere muttered to himself. "Mazaroff is leaving nothing to chance. As to the king now?"

"As to the king nobody knows anything," the porter resumed. "He simply vanished. There are some who say that he was spirited away by Anarchists, that the whole thing was a vile conspiracy. The other two gentlemen lay stunned on the ground so that they could see nothing of what was going on. And they are just as puzzled and bewildered over the disappearance of the king as anybody else."

Lechmere nodded as if the thing were of the most trivial importance to him, but he was utterly puzzled. What was the motive or the sense in spiriting off the king in this way? If he was dead, then the game of the conspirators would simply be played for without any further efforts of theirs. Had the king contrived to escape unhurt, and had he taken this chance to get away from those whom he virtually regarded as little better than his gaolers? By this time he was probably enjoying himself in Paris, heedless of the trouble that he was giving to others.

Lechmere figured it out that he would have to get to the bottom of this business for himself. He dared not go near either to Maxwell or Alexis for fear of meeting Mazaroff. It was imperative that Mazaroff should not know of his presence in the village.

The only thing to be done now was to settle down in his lodging and keep out of Mazaroff's way. A clean but frugal meal was provided and despatched, for Lechmere was keen set and for the most part he did not care what he ate when on expeditions like these. After the meal was done he sat smoking and thinking over the problem. Suddenly it occurred to him that he had been told by Peretori's cablegram to ask for the hut of Pierre Loti. Pierre Loti, he found, bore anything but a good character. It was a moot point as to how he got his living; he lived in a hut in the woods close by where the accident had happened and he had been first on the spot. All this interested Lechmere and he decided to try and find Loti at once. He had no difficulty in running down his man, who was making hurdles in the wood. He received the advances of the Englishman with evident suspicion.

"It is no use fencing about like this," Lechmere said at length. "I have come all the way from England to see you. I had a telegram asking me to do so. Do you understand?"

The man nodded and blinked slowly. His cunning little eyes were turned on Lechmere's face. He took from his pocket a dirty piece of paper and proceeded to spell out some rude signs there.

"I have a friend," he said, "a gentleman who has been very good to me. He was with me in my hut last night. And before he went away he said that very likely a gentleman would come from England to see me. And he said that the gentleman's name began by a certain letter. Would M'sieu be so good as to suggest what that letter is likely to be?"

Lechmere was on the right track at last and could afford to be patient. He smiled at this caution.

"I should say it would be the letter L," he said, "followed by Lechmere. Is that good enough for you or do you want further proof?"

"That is exactly as it should be," Loti said approvingly. "Lechmere is the name. Now, sir, I was close by when the accident happened yesterday. It was I who helped the wounded people out. The driver and his assistant were killed. One gentleman was unconscious and the other had a little sense left. He asked me to take care of the third gentleman, to get him away in fact and say nothing to anybody till the signal came. Only he wanted my name. Then this gentleman he failed also, and a little time later people came on the scene. I carried away the one gentleman to my hut and said nothing of it to anybody till another gentleman came along. He was the gentleman who was kind to me and told me that a friend of his called Lechmere would come along presently and reward me. I shall have to be rewarded, for I am doing what in the eyes of our law is a crime – "

"You need not worry in the least about your reward," Lechmere said impatiently. "Take me to your hut and let me speak to the person you are hiding there."

"Let him speak to you?" Loti said with widely open eyes. "I do not understand. You do not understand. But come this way; I keep my lips sealed and I say nothing to anybody. It is a dangerous position, but money can accomplish most things. This way, sir; I will see that you are not followed, for there are dogs about with sharp noses. This way."

The hut was reached at length, the door closed cautiously. In a little lean-to shed was a heap of straw, and this straw Loti proceeded to remove with a careful hand.

"Look down," he whispered. "Look down and see if you have ever seen him before."

Lechmere started back surprised and dismayed, almost unnerved for the moment. For the dead white face looking so calmly up at him was that of the ill-fated King of Asturia!

CHAPTER XLIV

DEAD!

There lay the body of the King of Asturia without a doubt. The first painful shock of surprise over, Lechmere was his cool prudent self again. He knew that Loti was watching him, so it behoved him to be careful. He bent down and made a long examination of the body. He would have given much at this moment for a few words with Peretori, but the latter seemed to have vanished and apparently had repudiated any further responsibility after sending the telegram. But then perhaps Peretori was playing some game of his own.

"Do you know anything about this gentleman?" he asked of Loti.

The ragged peasant shrugged his shoulders indifferently. Obviously the man had no suspicions that he was so closely on the fringe of an international tragedy. He was quite sure that the disaster to the special had not come about by accident and he murmured something about socialists. So long as he was well paid for what he was doing, his services could be relied upon.

"There is more money for you, here," Lechmere said, placing the soundest argument before the peasant, "if you are silent. If you go to the police now they will ask awkward questions. And they will pay you nothing. Can you procure a plain coffin and convey the body by road to, say, Amiens? Only the coffin must be packed in another case so as to disguise what it is, and I will give you the name and address whereby I can pick up the case to-morrow. If you can do this thing for me I will pay you no less a sum than two thousand francs."

Loti's eyes gleamed. Such a sum was beyond his wildest dreams. It would make him independent for the rest of his life. He nodded eagerly.

"Well, that is settled," Lechmere proceeded. "Listen. Later on in the day I will give you the address to be placed on the case. Bring me back the receipt from the railway people at Amiens and the money is yours in cash, so that no suspicion need be excited. I will meet you here to-morrow at the same time. You quite understand?"

Loti nodded, his eyes were gleaming like stars. It was obvious that he understood perfectly. Lechmere made his way back to the cottage where he had obtained shelter, and there wrote a long letter to the Head of the Police in Paris. This he despatched by special parcel so that it would be delivered in the course of the afternoon. He waited till dark before setting out with the object of seeing Maxwell and Alexis. There was considerable danger in this course, seeing that Mazaroff was close at hand, and, above all things, Lechmere had no idea of being seen by the Russian.

That the train had been deliberately and wantonly wrecked with a view to preventing the journey of the king to Asturia, Lechmere knew quite well. To further their own design these people had taken no heed of human life, they had stopped at nothing. And yet their plan had not been carried out quite so successfully as they had hoped though a great meed of triumph had been theirs. No doubt Mazaroff was hanging about the neighbourhood to report progress. But Mazaroff would be puzzled and rendered somewhat uneasy by the strange disappearance of the king. That he was dead the Russian could not possibly know or he would have visited Pierre Loti.

All these things Lechmere turned over in his mind as he made his way after dark to the cottage where Maxwell was lying. The primitive peasants who gave him shelter had already retired to bed, but the door had not been fastened, possibly to permit the visit of the doctor. Lechmere cautiously opened the door and looked in. The common sitting-room of the family had been divided by a couple of sheets over a clothes-horse, and behind this Lechmere guessed that the patient lay, from the smell of carbolic on the sheets. Lechmere secured the door as a means of precaution, and passed behind the sheet. As he expected, Maxwell lay there.

His face was terribly bruised and battered, but the restless motion of his limbs testified to the fact that the nervous vitality was not greatly impaired. Maxwell opened a pair of languid eyes as Lechmere touched him on the shoulder.

"Go away," he said. "Why do you bother? There is nothing much the matter with me if I were not so terribly sleepy. I can't get my head right. I don't know what that peasant fellow is doing? I gave him all the money I had, too. What's the matter?"

Maxwell's eyes suddenly changed, he identified Lechmere with a smile of pleasure.

"I felt quite sure that you would turn up," he whispered. "Was I successful? Did I baffle them? But you don't know anything about that or about the king – "

"Indeed I do," Lechmere hastened to reply. "I know everything. The king is dead, because I have seen his body. And by this time the little plot has been successful. The king has not returned to his capital, and it will be understood by his people that he has taken advantage of the accident to go off on one of his dissipated excesses, and the revolution will be in full blast."

"But those people don't know that the king is dead?" Maxwell asked eagerly.

"They don't. You worked that business very cleverly. And Peretori must have been pretty near, for he sent me a cablegram telling me what to do. I found your Pierre Loti. He shewed me the body of the king covered with straw in his cottage. Did you manage all that?"

"I did," Maxwell said, not without a smile. "When the accident happened it came to me like a flash that the whole thing had been brought about by design. Our carriage was literally smashed to pieces and we were thrown on the permanent way. The engine-driver and stoker were killed, so I and Alexis managed to stagger as far as the engine. The king lay perfectly motionless and I felt that I was going to collapse. It was at this point that Pierre Loti came up. I gave him all the money I had in my pocket to get the king out of the way and say nothing till he heard from me again. I should say that he has obeyed instructions."

"To the letter," Lechmere said. "The king is dead, he must have been killed on the spot. I compliment you sincerely on the manner in which you contrived to keep this thing a secret. So long as the foe are in ignorance of the full measure of their success we have a chance. And I have made arrangements for the king to be conveyed to England secretly, Mazaroff is still hanging about here on the off chance of picking something up."

"Which he will not do. But what has become of our new ally, Peretori?"

"That I can't say," Lechmere replied. "Though I have a pretty shrewd idea. But it is useless to speak of that just now. What does the doctor say is the matter with you?"

"Shock, and yet I feel quite well at times. I can't keep my eyes open. I have the strange sensation of being drugged. I am so thirsty that I have to have a big jug of lemonade always by my side as you see. I am as tired as a dog again now."

And Maxwell closed his eyes. There was the sound of a step outside the cottage and the door opened very cautiously. With a sudden instinct Lechmere passed at the back of the sheets into the glow beyond just in time to avoid Mazaroff, who was the newcomer. Holding the sheet slightly back, Lechmere could see exactly what was taking place. He saw Maxwell lying as if in a heavy sleep, he saw the sinister smile that came over Mazaroff's face. The longer the protectors of the absent king lay there helpless so much the better for Mazaroff and his party. The Russian took a little bottle from his pocket and proceeded to drop a few spots from it into Maxwell's lemonade. With the same sinister smile on his face he crept away in the direction of the door. Was he carrying on the same game with Alexis, Lechmere wondered, or was some confidante doing the work?

Lechmere looked grim rather than angry, as he followed the Russian into the open air. He was going to see if the experiment was destined to be repeated on Alexis. It would be the last time, Lechmere told himself, for he had that morning put a spoke in Mazaroff's wheel which ought to stop the coach at any moment. Near the little village hotel to which the Russian made his way two official looking men were standing, a blue paper in the hand of one of them. One of them stepped up and bowed profoundly.