The Weight of the Crown

"Prince Mazaroff," he said. "Surely I have the honour. Ah, I thought so. You will consider yourself my prisoner in the interests of the Criminal Department of Paris. It is the warrant that I hold in my hand. You will have to come with me to Paris."

Mazaroff swore and threatened. He would like to know something of the charge. As the charge was read over his bluster and threats subdued to a little cry of dismay.

"It is a case of mistaken identity," he said. "Where are you going to take me? To Paris? It is very unfortunate, but circumstances are too strong for me, and I yield."

CHAPTER XLV

CHECK!

Mazaroff was disposed of at any rate for the present. Lechmere's letter to the Chief of the Police in Paris had not been futile. He was pretty well posted with the life story of the man who called himself Prince Mazaroff, who, in point of fact, was one of the greatest scoundrels of his time. Under another name the French police had long wanted him for an old offence, and Lechmere had been in a position to supply the missing details and facts for identification. Besides, the head of the Paris police was an old acquaintance of Lechmere's and valued his opinion highly. Thus it was that no time was lost in tying Mazaroff by the heels after receipt of Lechmere's letter. Mazaroff was a cunning enough scoundrel, but he had more than his match in the old queen's messenger. The coast was quite clear now.

Nothing was in the way of taking the body of the unfortunate king back to England. Nobody must know that he had died, at least not for the present. The secret was valuable for the moment. Of course the queen must be told, and General Maxgregor, but nobody else. It was early the next morning that Lechmere saw both Alexis and Maxwell and found them going on well. He explained briefly to both what had happened.

"You will both be about again in a day or two," he said. "Meanwhile it exactly suits the position of affairs for you to be here as invalids who are incapable of seeing anybody. But I have arranged with the doctor to keep the gentleman of the pencil at bay. You know nothing, you are capable of no opinion, you are utterly indifferent as to what has become of the king. Obviously he has escaped somewhere or his body would have been found. I fancy you understand."

There was no reason to repeat the question. With an easy mind, Lechmere made the best of his way back to London. With the aid of a few cigars, he worked the matter out to the end. He could see his way to damp the pretty scheme of Countess Saens and also regain possession of those papers. Nor would he shew his hand in the matter at all. The thing would cause a little sensation in London perhaps, there would be complications partaking of an international character, but there it would end.

Lechmere drove straight with his gruesome burden to the rooms occupied by General Maxgregor. He found the latter considerably better and ready for work again. The flesh wound in the old soldier's shoulder had quite healed up, that fine constitution made little of the loss of blood.

"The very man I have been longing to see," Maxgregor cried. "When I heard that you were not in London, I felt sure that you were following that strange matter up. Was it an accident?"

"Of course not," Lechmere said with fine contempt. "Did you suppose for a moment that it was? The thing was planned and accomplished by Mazaroff. Who his confederates were does not matter for the moment. At any rate he managed it. It would never do to let the king reach Asturia. But there was one thing they did not reckon on – the disappearance."

"The luck that ever follows the foolish," Maxgregor growled. "The only man uninjured. He takes the first opportunity to get away from his gaolers. In his callous way, heedless of the fact that they are badly hurt, he takes a carriage and goes to Paris. He has no money, but the King of Asturia can always raise that in the French capital. Am I right?"

"No, you are quite wrong," Lechmere said gravely. "The king is dead. I have his body with me at the present moment. Mind you, nobody knows anything about it. But perhaps I had better explain to you how we managed to keep the tragic affair a secret."

Maxgregor listened eagerly to Lechmere's story. His grave face was tinged with deep melancholy.

"That is very sad," he said. "It will be a dreadful blow to the queen. After all she has gone through and suffered it will break her heart to know that Asturia will fall to Russia in spite of everything."

"Asturia is not going to fall into the hands of Russia," Lechmere said drily. "Cunning as those people are, we are going to be one too many for them. After all said and done, nobody outside our little circle knows that the king is dead. I will explain presently. Meanwhile the king must be buried. We must get a certificate without delay. When the time comes the story can be made public."

"It will be difficult to get a certificate from an ordinary doctor," said Maxgregor.

"I grant your point, my friend. But we can get a certificate from Dr. Varney, who attended the king on and off for years during the time he visited London. And Varney often warned the king that any shock might be his end. I should say that he died of the shock. Any way we'll get Varney in and ask his opinion. Have you a room that you can spare? If so we will complete my gruesome task and lock the body carefully away. Get your man off the premises."

The whole thing was managed at length, and a little later and then Varney came in. He made a long and careful examination of the body before he gave his verdict.

"There is nothing broken," he said. "The cause of death has nothing to do with violence. Of that I am certain. This sudden fright acting on a heart all to pieces and nerves like brown paper did the mischief. The shock stopped the heart and the King of Asturia died. There is nothing to prevent my saying that I was called in here to see the body of the King of Asturia and that I certified that shock was the cause of death. I am so sure of it that even had the patient been a common man, I should have certified that there was no cause for an inquest."

"So that we may get the body buried without delay?" Maxgregor asked.

"Well, I should say not," the cautious Varney said. "I am perhaps stretching a medical point and I do not want to get myself into further trouble. For political reasons we do not want the public to know that the King of Asturia is dead. I am prepared to swear as to what killed him. But kings are not buried like ordinary bodies, they are generally embalmed. In the course of a few days the sad news may be made public and then the body can be taken to Asturia and buried in state. The embalmers need not know of the high rank of their subject."

Varney was absolutely right, as Lechmere saw at once. Besides, if his calculations were correct, the sad news would be made public very soon now. People would ask questions but they need not be answered. There was nothing for it now but to break the news to the queen.

"I think I'll get you to do that," Lechmere said to Maxgregor. "You are such an old friend and you can speak to the queen in tones that I should not venture to address to her. But it will be all right so far as Asturia is concerned – Russia is going to fail there. And you and I and one or two others will go down to the grave holding one of the most romantic and wildest political secrets that has ever taken place in Europe. Good luck to you, my friend."

Maxgregor went off at once to the queen's hotel. He found her, to his surprise, not in the least gloomy or anxious; on the contrary there was a fine smile on her face.

"I have been longing for you," she said. "If you had not come to me, positively I must have invaded your rooms. Have you heard the good news – I mean the good news of the king?"

Maxgregor looked with some alarm at the royal speaker. Thoughts of a brain unhinged by trouble rose before him. Evidently the queen had taken leave of her senses.

"The good news," he stammered. "Margaret, there is no good news. Somebody has been cruelly deceiving you. You must be prepared to hear that which is bad, very bad."

"But the king escaped," the queen cried. "He escaped from the wrecked train and made his way secretly and swiftly to our capital. It was perhaps the one unselfish and manly action of his life. He was bruised and battered but he was sufficiently himself to meet his ministers. Tomani has cabled me."

"Impossible!" Maxgregor cried. "Madame, the king is dead. He was killed in that accident. Mr. Charles Maxwell, though sorely hurt himself, managed to get the body conveyed to a place of safety so that nobody should know, and the body has been brought to England. Mr. Lechmere managed it in the most wonderful way. The body is at present in my rooms safely under lock and key. I have seen it, Mr. Lechmere has of course seen it, and so has Dr. Varney, who is prepared to certify that the cause of death was shock to the system. I came here on purpose to bring you the ill tidings. I pray you be buoyed up with no hopes on such a fallacy as this. If you like to come and see for yourself – "

The queen passed her hand across her brows in a bewildered sort of way. At the same time she took up a grey cablegram from the table by her side.

"Listen to what Tomani says," she cried. "Listen – 'King here safe but knocked about from the result of his accident. Met him myself. Is at present in consultation with ministers. Will let your majesty know result of deliberations as soon as settled. Tomani.' Paul, what does it mean?"

But for once in his life General Maxgregor was incapable of reply.

CHAPTER XLVI

MATE IN TWO MOVES

Maxgregor made no reply for a moment. It flashed across his mind that some person or persons were playing a cruel hoax on the queen.

But a moment's reflection served to show that such a thing was impossible. In the first place the telegram was in the cypher used by the queen in communicating with Tomani, the only really faithful friend she possessed in the councils of the government party of Asturia. And Tomani's honour was beyond question.

The queen was first to speak. She crossed over and laid a shaking hand on Maxgregor's arm.

"You must be mistaken," she said. "Unless Tomani – but not for a moment do I doubt him. I trust him as implicitly as I trust yourself. And yet you say – you say – "

"That the king is dead, madame. The king was killed in the disaster that happened to his special train between here and Paris. Mind you, nobody knows of this with the exception of the faithful few into whose hands you would place your life safely. As a matter of fact the disaster was no accident at all, it was deliberately brought about by Countess Saens and Prince Mazaroff for their own ends. The miscreants disappeared and I am afraid that we shall not have the satisfaction of laying them by the heels. The driver and stoker of the train were killed so that it is impossible to obtain their testimony. Captain Alexis and Mr. Charles Maxwell escaped by a miracle, though they are both badly knocked about. It was Mr. Maxwell who saved the situation and contrived to get the body of the king smuggled away."

"But the telegram, General, the telegram?" the queen cried. "Tomani says that the king is in our capital closeted with ministers. Perhaps at this very moment – "

"But, madame, I assure you that the king is no more," Maxgregor protested. "There is some strange maddening mystery here that will be explained in time. I say the king is dead, if necessary I am prepared to prove that to you. The body was smuggled away so that Russia should have no pretext for interfering. It was essential that they should not know what had happened, for the present at any rate. They must not know till we can get Prince Alix on the scene."

"You are assuming a thing that you can prove?" the queen asked hoarsely.

"Indeed I am, madame. Try and realise the fact that your sway is ended. It expires with the life of the king as you know. Therefore, we must put all private feeling aside and strain every nerve to get Prince Alix to Asturia before the Russians learn what has happened. Once Prince Alix is nominated to the succession, Russia is powerless. Do you follow me?"

"I should follow you better if I were certain that you were telling me hard facts, General."

"Heaven only knows that I am, madame. That the king is dead is beyond question. Let me finish what I am going to say. I have had everything from Lechmere. He had a mysterious message from Prince Peretori urging him to go at once to the scene of the disaster. He was told to visit the cottage of a certain peasant and give proofs of his identity. There he saw the body of the king hidden away. The body was brought back to England, and at present it is locked in one of my rooms. I have seen it, Lechmere has seen it, so has Dr. Varney."

The queen passed her hand across her forehead with a gesture of despair.

"It is all bewildering and so confusing, so sudden!" she cried. "You come to me and tell me this a few minutes after the receipt of Tomani's telegram."

"I do not wish to be hard or unkind," Maxgregor interrupted. "But I must ask you for the present to forget that telegram. That side of the mystery will doubtless be cleared up in time. What most concerns us now is the king and the fact that his death must be concealed from everybody until we have had time to communicate with Prince Alix. Of your dream and mine we can say nothing; that is shattered. Our whole energies too must be devoted to the task of defeating Russia. And the king has to be buried, you understand."

"But that cannot be done without necessary formalities," the queen protested. "In England – "

"Yes, I know that in England they do things differently to what they do abroad. But most fortunately, we have Dr. Varney on our side. He attended the king, he is prepared to certify that death was the result of a shock and that nothing in the way of an inquest was necessary. Officially, the doctor is not supposed to know anything about the railway accident. He is not bound to speak of what has happened until officially, you, as royal consort, see fit to announce to the world that King Erno of Asturia is no more. Varney suggests that the body be embalmed and conveyed to Asturia for burial. You see everything plays for our hand if we can only be bold and do not lose our opportunities."

The queen made no reply for a little time, she paced up and down the room lost in thought. A kingdom had slipped through her fingers, all her darling ambition had fallen suddenly to the ground. The cup of humiliation was full to the brim and she had to drink it to the dregs. And yet through it all was the consolation that peace and quietness henceforth would be her portion. She had been tried beyond her strength of late.

"Paul," she said, with a gentle sweetness that surprised Maxgregor. "I place myself entirely in your hands. I have done more than a woman's portion and I have failed. The fact that I knew that I should fail from the first does not render my humiliation any the less bitter. The king is dead, and for his own sake and mine I do not regret it. My married life has been a nightmare, I am glad that it is over. How can I grieve for this thing when I remember what I have suffered? Henceforth I take no part in politics – that is, after we have successfully placed Alix on a firm throne. The people will follow him as they never would have followed me, devoted as I was to their interests. When you came in I was getting ready to start for Asturia. I was going to travel incognito and let it be understood that I was still in England. And that splendid girl Jessie Harcourt was coming with me. It is just as well that she should be out of the way for some little time, and her courage and devotion are splendid."

Before Maxgregor could make any reply, Jessie came into the room. She was quietly dressed in black and evidently ready for a journey. At the sight of the queen's pale face and the presence of Maxgregor she started and backed towards the door. The queen detained her.

"This is no private conversation," she said, "at least not so far as you are concerned. I should like you to know everything, for I feel how implicitly I can trust you. General Maxgregor brings some startling news. News so strange that I would not believe it for a time. He says the king is dead."

"Dead!" Jessie exclaimed. "But that telegram, madame. Surely your friend Tomani – ?"

"Is beyond reproach. Nor can I believe that anybody has obtained access to my private cypher. And yet the king is dead. The General will tell you all about that."

Maxgregor reported his story over again, Jessie listening with dilated eyes. How many ages ago, she wondered, since she was filling her dreary routine duties in Bond Street. But she seemed to have left that old life behind her years ago. She was piecing the puzzle together as Maxgregor spoke. At the name of Peretori a sudden light flashed in upon her.

"Prince Peretori," she cried. "It was Prince Peretori who sent that mysterious telegram to Mr. Lechmere. Then the Prince must have known all about it, I mean after the accident. And Prince Peretori was the man who impersonated the king for the sake of a bet and then foolishly played into the hands of Countess Saens and the rest of them. It was he who passed himself off to the Editor of the Mercury as King of Asturia. Surely you can see what has happened?"

"I wish I did," Maxgregor muttered. "It would simplify matters wonderfully."

"Why, the problem is already solved," said Jessie. "Prince Peretori was sincerely sorry for the part he had played. He said he would do his best to make amends. Ah, he is far cleverer in his frivolous way than you give him credit for. He foresaw something of this and hung in disguise on the track of the king. He was not far off when the accident took place. And thus he was on his way when he was assured of the fact that the king was dead. Once more he played the part of the King of Asturia. He made up as the king, he would probably use a few bandages and a discoloured face so as to make detection absolutely impossible. The king was expected in his capital and the prince went there instead. Hence the telegram from Tomani who had not detected the imposture. By this time you may be sure that Prince Alix is on the spot. It is the old story of the comedy man who comes forward at the crisis and saves the play."

"She is right," Maxgregor shouted. "For a million she has hit the right nail on the head."

CHAPTER XLVII

THE SITUATION IS SAVED

There was no reason to say any more. Both listeners felt that the situation was saved; they felt, too, that Jessie was absolutely right. Her logic lacked no force, because it was so clear and simple. The queen paused in her agitated walk and crossed towards the door.

"That is settled, then," she said. "My dear friend here has solved the problem. But there is yet much to be done before we are safe and Asturia is preserved from the grip of the wolf. I should like to see the king."

Maxgregor had no objection to make. Perhaps on the whole it would be better for the queen to be quite sure that he told no more than the truth. It was a sufficiently sad hour that followed before the queen returned to her hotel again. She was hardly back before Lord Merehaven was announced. His easy air vanished as he entered the room, he looked very old and agitated. There was just a wild gleam in his eyes as his gaze fell on Jessie.

"I have been hearing strange things, madame," he said. "My niece has been confessing the truth. So it was this young lady who was responsible for so many of the startling events of the other night. Not that I propose to recognise that I am in anyway – "

"For Heaven's sake, forget that you are a diplomat and a minister for once, my lord," the queen said. "This is a matter that closely touches your personal honour and mine. I beg you to believe that I did not know of the change of identity till this young lady accompanied me here from your house. Surely you must recognise her bravery and courage, that she ran all these risks merely to help one whom she had never seen before. It was a strange position for a lady – "

"An impossible position for a lady," Merehaven said drily.

"I think not," the queen said, just a little coldly. "It was done on the spur of the moment. If your niece has told you everything, surely you must be aware of that."

"My niece has told me everything, madame," Merehaven went on. "She had planned a desperate enterprise to save the man she loved and she wanted to so place it that she could leave the house all the while her friends could testify that she had not gone beyond the front door. And Vera came very near to success – "

"Very near to success!" the queen cried. "She did succeed. She obtained possession of those missing papers. It is true that she lost them again, but they passed out of the possession of Countess Saens and thus deprived her of one of her most powerful weapons. The bold attempt to free Mr. Maxwell from blame – "

"Mr. Maxwell was not in the least to blame, as matters turned out," Merehaven explained. "Captain Lancing was the culprit all through. Mr. Maxwell was foolish in his little flirtation with the Countess – which by the way she forced upon him – gave colour to his guilt. It was Maxwell's wild endeavour to save Lancing that brought suspicion on him, but I shall be able to satisfy Maxwell's chiefs that he has nothing to ask forgiveness for when the time comes. As a matter of fact a letter written by Captain Lancing before he committed suicide has come to hand and he takes all the blame."

"But this need not become public property," the queen said.

"It is not going to become public property," Merehaven said. "We shall let the rumour die. We shall assume that the whole thing was merely a foolish newspaper canard. All the same there were papers stolen and they did pass into Countess Saens's hands. And Count Gleikstein is acting as if he knew the contents and as if he had possession of the papers. Probably it is only bluff, but it is giving me a deal of anxiety."

"You mean that you cannot feel quite certain whether or not those papers are in the hands of the Count or not?" Jessie asked. "He is acting as if he possessed them?"

"You are an exceedingly clever young lady," Merehaven smiled. "That is exactly the point. I have a wonderfully shrewd man to deal with and he is puzzling me utterly. If he has not the papers and I can prove it, then I can afford to laugh and affect ignorance. Whereas – "

"Perhaps I had better tell you exactly how things stand," the queen remarked. "You need not know anything of this officially as yet, but the more fully you are posted the better for your fight with Count Gleikstein. I am going to tell you a story that will astonish you, diplomat as you are."

The queen did not boast. Merehaven was unaffectedly astonished and showed it. He walked up and down the room muttering to himself as he walked.

"Did ever anybody ever hear anything so amazing," he said. "If I could only be sure now what has become of those stolen papers. Does anybody guess where they are?"

"I can't go as far as that," Jessie said. "But I can guess who does know. I fully believe that lost secret will be found in the possession of Mr. Lechmere."

Merehaven gave a grunt of delight. The moody frown passed away from his face. "You really are a very clever young lady," he said. "I suppose when the time comes to smooth out things I shall have to forgive you for the part you have played. But your suggestion as to Lechmere is brilliant, distinctly brilliant. I'll go to him at once."

The early edition of the evening papers was once more full of the affairs of Asturia, and the newsboys were proclaiming the fact as they ran along before Merehaven. It was quite clear from the rumours emanating from the Asturian capital that the enemy had no real grip as yet of the true position of things. King Erno was back again in his capital once more, he had met his disaffected ministers frankly and openly for once in his life, and he was prepared to place himself entirely in the hands of his advisers. He admitted that he had not been a model monarch in his time, but then, physically and intellectually, he was not fit for so exalted a position. If there was any question of his successor, he should like to name Prince Alix, whom he had every reason to believe was close at hand.