MRS. FITZ
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 BY 
 
 J. C. SNAITH 
 
 AUTHOR OP "FORTUNE," "ARAMINTA," 
 "BROKE OP COVENDEN," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 1910
 
 Copyright, 1910, by 
 
 MOFFAT, YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 Published October, 1910 
 
 THE QUINN A BODEN CO. PRESS
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Ir is snowing," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 "Worse luck !" growled I from behind my newspaper. 
 "This unspeakable climate! Why can't we sack the 
 Clerk of the Weather !" 
 
 "Because he is a permanent official," said Joseph 
 Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther, who was coming into 
 the room. "And those are the people who run the be- 
 nighted country." 
 
 Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther was in 
 rather smart kit. It was December the first, and the 
 hounds there is only one pack in the United Kingdom 
 were about to pay an annual visit to the country of a 
 neighbour. With conscious magnificence my relation 
 by marriage took a bee-line to the sideboard. He paused 
 a moment to debate to which of two imperative duties 
 he should give the precedence : i.e. to make his daily re- 
 port upon the personal appearance of his host, or to 
 find out what there was to eat. The state of the ele- 
 ments enabled Mother Nature "to get a cinch" on an 
 honourable sestheticisim. Jodey began to forage slowly 
 but resolutely among the dish covers. 
 
 3 
 
 2138399
 
 4 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Kedgeree ! Twice in a fortnight. Look here Mops, 
 it won't do." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot was perusing that journal which 
 for the modest sum of one halfpenny purveys the glam- 
 our of history with only five per cent, of its responsi- 
 bilities. She merely turned over a page. Her brother, 
 having heaped enough kedgeree upon his plate to make 
 a meal for the average person, peppered and salted it on 
 a scale equally liberal and then suggested coffee. 
 
 "Tea is better for the digestion," said Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not, with her natural air of simple authority. 
 
 "I know," said Jodey. "That is why I prefer the 
 other stuff." 
 
 "Men are so reasonable !" 
 
 "Do you mind 'andin' the sugar?" 
 
 "Sugar will make you a welter and ruin your appear- 
 ance." 
 
 A cardinal axiom of my friend Mrs. Josiah P. 
 Perkins, nee Ogbourne, late of Brownsville, Mass., is 
 "Horse-sense always tells." Among the daughters of 
 men I know none whose endowment of this felicitous 
 quality can equal that of the amiable participator in 
 my expenditure. It told in this case. 
 
 "Better give me tea." 
 
 "Without sugar?" said Mrs. Arbuthnot with great 
 charm of manner. 
 
 "A small lump," said Jodey as a concession to his 
 force of character. 
 
 The young fellow stirred his tea with so much dili- 
 gence that the small lump really seemed like a large
 
 ACCORDING TO REUTER 5 
 
 one. And then with a gravity that was somewhat sin- 
 ister, he fixed his gaze on my coat and leathers. 
 
 "By a local artist of the name of Jobson," said I 
 humbly. "The second shop on the right as you enter 
 Middleham High Street." 
 
 "They speak for themselves." 
 
 "My father went there," said I. "My grandfather 
 also. In my grandfather's day I believe the name of 
 the firm was Wiseman and Grundy." 
 
 "It's not fair to 'ounds. If I was Brasset I should 
 take 'em 'ome." 
 
 "If you were Brasset," I countered, "that would 
 hardly be necessary. They would find their way home 
 by themselves." 
 
 "Mops is to blame. She has been brought up prop- 
 erly." 
 
 "It comes to this, my friend. We can't both wear 
 the breeches. Hers cost a pretty penny from those 
 thieves in Regent Street." 
 
 "Maddox Street," said a bland voice from the re- 
 cesses of the Daily Courier. 
 
 "Those bandits in Maddox Street," said I with 
 pathos. "But for all I know it might be those sharks 
 in the Mile End Road. I am a babe in these things." 
 
 "No, my dear Odo," said the young fellow, making 
 his point somewhat elaborately, "in those things you are 
 a perisher. An absolute perisher. I'm ashamed to be 
 seen 'untin' the same fox with you. I should be ashamed 
 to be found dead in the same ditch. I hate people who 
 are not serious about clothes. It's so shallow." 
 
 My relation by marriage produced an extremely vivid
 
 6 MRS. FITZ 
 
 yellow silk handkerchief, and pensively flicked a speck of 
 invisible dust off an immaculate buckskin. 
 
 "My God, those tops !" 
 
 "By a local draughtsman," said I, "of the name of 
 Bussey. He is careful in the measurements and takes 
 a drawing of the foot. 
 
 " 'Orrible. You look like a Cossack at the Hippo- 
 drome." 
 
 "The Madam patronises an establishment in Bond 
 Street. One is given to understand that various royal- 
 ties follow her example." 
 
 "They make for the King of Illyria," said Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot. 
 
 "That is interesting," said I in response to a quizzi- 
 cal glance from the breakfast table. The fact is my 
 amiable coadjutor in the things of this life has a de- 
 cided weakness for royalty. She denies it vehemently 
 and betrays it shamelessly on every possible occasion. 
 
 "Very interestin' indeed," said her brother. 
 
 In the next moment a cry of surprise floated out of 
 the depths of the halfpenny newspaper. 
 
 "What a coincidence!" exclaimed Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 "There has been an attempt on the life of the King of 
 Illyria. They have thrown a bomb into his palace and 
 killed the brother of the Prime Minister." 
 
 "In the interests of the shareholders of the Daily 
 Courier" said I. 
 
 "Be serious, Odo," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "To think 
 of that dear old king being in danger !" 
 
 "Yes, the dear old king," said Jodey. 
 
 "I think you are horrid, both of you," said Mrs. Ar-
 
 ACCORDING TO REUTER 7 
 
 buthnot with the spirit that made her an admired mem- 
 ber of the Crackanthorpe Hunt. "Those horrid 
 Illyrians ! They don't deserve to have a king. They 
 ought to be like France and America and Switzerland." 
 
 "They will soon be in that unhappy position," said I, 
 turning to page four of the Times newspaper. "Accord- 
 ing to Reuter, it appears to have been a bond fide at- 
 tempt. Count Cyszysc " 
 
 "You sneeze twice," suggested Jodey. 
 
 "Count Cyszysc was blown to pieces on the threshold 
 of the Zweisgarten Palace, the whole of the south-west 
 front of which was wrecked." 
 
 "The wretches !" said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "They are 
 only fit to have a republic. Such a dear old man, the 
 ideal of what a king ought to be. Don't you remem- 
 ber him in the state procession riding next to the 
 Kaiser?" 
 
 "The old Johnny with the white hair," said Jodey, 
 reaching for the marmalade. 
 
 "He looked every inch a king," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, 
 "and Illyria is not a very large place either." 
 
 "In a small and obscure country," I ventured to ob- 
 serve, "you have to look every inch a king, else nobody 
 will believe that you are one. In a country as impor- 
 tant as ours it doesn't matter if a king looks like a com- 
 mercial traveler." 
 
 "By the way," said Jodey, who had a polite horror of 
 anything that could be construed as lese majeste, 
 "where is Illyria?" 
 
 "My dear fellow," said I, "don't you know where 
 Illyria is?"
 
 8 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "I'll bet you a pony that you don't either," said 
 Jodey, striving, as young fellows will, to cover his igno- 
 rance by a display of effrontery. 
 
 "Haven't you been to Blaenau ? Don't you know the 
 Sveltkes, hoch ! hoch !" 
 
 "No; do you?" said the young fellow, brazenly. 
 
 "They are the oldest reigning family in Europe," 
 said Mrs. Arbuthnot severely. 
 
 "How do you know that, Mops?" said the sceptical 
 youth. 
 
 "It says so in the German 'Who's Who,' " said the 
 Madam sternly. "I looked them up on purpose." 
 
 "My dear fellow," said I, "if you knew a little less 
 about polo, and a little less about hunting the fox, and 
 a little more about geography and foreign languages 
 and the things that make for efficiency, you would be 
 au courant with the kingdom of Illyria and its reigning 
 family. Tell the young fellow where that romantic 
 country is, old lady." 
 
 "First you go to Paris," said the Madam, with ad- 
 mirable lucidity. "And then, I'm not sure, but I think 
 you come to Vienna, and then I believe you cut across 
 and you come to Illyria. And then you come to Blaenau, 
 the capital, where the King lives, which is five hundred 
 miles from St. Petersburg as the crow flies, because I've 
 marked it on the map." 
 
 "Well, if you've really marked it on the map," said I, 
 "it is only reasonable to assume that the kingdom of 
 Illyria is in a state of being." 
 
 "You are too absurd," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "The 
 place is well known and its king is famous."
 
 ACCORDING TO REUTER 9 
 
 "I wonder if there is decent shooting in Illyria," 
 said Jocelyn De Vere, with that air of tacit condescen- 
 sion which gained him advancement throughout the 
 English-speaking world. "One might try it for a week 
 to shew one has no feelin' against it." 
 
 "Where there is a king there is always decent shoot- 
 ing," I ventured to observe. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot returned to her newspaper. 
 
 "They want to form a republic in Illyria," she an- 
 nounced, "but the old king is determined to thwart 
 them." 
 
 "A bit of a sportsman, evidently," said her brother. 
 "But never mind Illyria. Give me some more coffee. 
 We've got to be at the Cross Roads by eleven." 
 
 "No mortal use, I am afraid," said I. "The glass 
 has gone right back. And look through the window." 
 
 "Good old British climate ! And on that side they've 
 got one of the best bits o' country in the shires, and 
 Morton's covers are always choke full of foxes." 
 
 In spite of his pessimism, however, my relation by 
 marriage continued to deal faithfully with the modest 
 repast that had been offered him. Also he was fain to 
 inquire of the mistress of the house whether enough 
 sandwiches had been cut and whether both flasks had 
 been filled ; and from the nominal head of our modest es- 
 tablishment he sought to learn what arrangements had 
 been made for the second horsemen. 
 
 "They will not be wanted to-day, I fear." 
 
 "Pooh, a few flakes o' snow !" 
 
 It was precisely at this moment that the toot of a 
 motor horn was heard. A sixty horse power six cylin-
 
 10 MRS. FITZ 
 
 dered affair of the latest design was seen to steal 
 through the shrubbery en route to the front door. 
 
 "Why, wasn't that Brasset?" 
 
 "His car certainly." 
 
 "What does the blighter want?" 
 
 "He has brought us the information that Morton 
 has telephoned through to say that there is a foot of 
 snow on the Wolds and that hounds had better stay at 
 the kennels." 
 
 "Pooh," said Jodey, "he wouldn't have troubled to 
 come himself. You've got a telephone, ain't you?" 
 
 "Doubtless he also wishes to confer with Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot upon the state of things in Illyria. He is a 
 very serious fellow with political ambitions." 
 
 Further I might have added, which however I did not, 
 that the Master of the Crackanthorpe was somewhat 
 assiduous in his attitude of respectful attention towards 
 my seductive co-participator in this vale of tears, who 
 on her side was rather apt to pride herself upon an 
 old-fashioned respect for the peerage. The prospect 
 of a visit from the noble Master caused her to discard 
 the affairs of the Illyrian monarchy in favour of a 
 subject even more pregnant with interest. 
 
 "If it is Reggie Brasset," said she, renouncing the 
 Daily Courier, "he has come about Mrs. Fitz." 
 
 "Get out!" said the scornful Jodey. "You people 
 down here have got Mrs. Fitz on the brain." 
 
 Out of the mouths of babes ! It was perfectly true 
 that in our own little corner of the world people had 
 got Mrs. Fitz on the brain.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A M.F.H. 
 
 BRASSET it certainly was. And when he came into the 
 room looking delightfully healthy, decidedly handsome 
 and a great deal more serious than a minister of the 
 Crown, his first words were to the effect that Morton 
 had telephoned through to say that they had a foot of 
 snow on the Wolds and that hounds had better stay 
 where they were. 
 
 "Awfully good of you, Brasset, to come and tell us," 
 said I heartily. "Have some breakfast." 
 
 "No, thanks," said Brasset. "The fact is, as we are 
 not going over to Morton's I thought this would be a 
 good opportunity to to " 
 
 For some reason the noble Master did not appear 
 to know how to complete his sentence. 
 
 "Yes, Lord Brasset," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, with an 
 air of acute intelligence. 
 
 "A good opportunity to to " said Brasset, who 
 in spite of his seriousness really looked absurdly young 
 to be the master of such a pack as ours. 
 
 "Yes, Lord Brasset," said Mrs. Arbuthnot again. 
 
 "Yes, quite so, my dear fellow," said I, without, as I 
 hope and believe, the least appearance of levity, for the 
 uncompromising eye of authority was upon me. 
 
 11
 
 12 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "What's up, Brasset?" said Jodey, who contrary 
 to the regulations was lighting his pipe at the breakfast 
 table, and who combined with his many engaging quali- 
 ties an extremely practical mind. "You want a glass 
 of beer. Parkins, bring his lordship a glass of beer." 
 
 With this aid to the body corporeal in his hand, and 
 with a pair of large, serious and admirably solicitous 
 eyes fixed upon him, the noble Master made a third at- 
 tempt to complete his sentence. This time he succeeded. 
 
 "The fact is," said he, "I thought this would be a 
 good opportunity to to " Here the noble Master 
 made a heroic dash for England, home and glory "to 
 talk over this confounded business of Mrs. Fitz." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot sat bolt upright with an air of ec- 
 stasy and the expression "there, what did I tell you!" 
 written all over her. 
 
 "Quite so, my dear fellow," said I, in simple good 
 faith, but happening at that moment to intercept a 
 glance from a feminine eye, had perforce to smother 
 my countenance somewhat hastily in the voluminous 
 folds of The Times. 
 
 "What about her?" inquired the occupant of the 
 breakfast table, who whatever the angels might happen 
 to be doing at any given moment, never hesitated to 
 walk right in with both feet. "I was saying to Arbuth- 
 not and my sister just as you came in, that you people 
 down here have got Mrs. Fitz on the brain." 
 
 "Yes, I am afraid we have," said Brasset ruefully. 
 "The fact is, things are coming to such a pass that they 
 can't go on."
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A M.F.H. 13 
 
 "I agree with you, Lord Brasset," said Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot, with conviction. 
 
 "Something must be done." 
 
 "It is so uncomfortable for everybody," said Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot, "and I can promise this, Lord Brasset." 
 The fair speaker looked ostentatiously away from the 
 vicinity of the leading morning journal. "Whatever 
 steps you decide to take in the matter will have the en- 
 tire sympathy and support of every woman subscriber 
 to the Hunt." 
 
 "Thank you very much indeed, Mrs. Arbuthnot," said 
 the noble Master, with feeling. "I am very grateful to 
 you. It will help me very much." 
 
 " We held a meeting in Mrs. Catesby's drawing-room 
 on Sunday afternoon. We passed a resolution express- 
 ing the fullest confidence in you I wish, Lord Brasset, 
 you could have heard what was said about you " The 
 Master's picturesque complexion achieved a more 
 roseate tinge. "Our unanimous support and approval 
 was voted to you in all that you may feel called upon 
 to do." 
 
 "A thousand thanks, my dear Mrs. Arbuthnot." 
 
 "And we hope you will turn Mrs. Fitz out of the 
 Hunt. I also brought forward an amendment that 
 Fitz be turned out as well, but it was decided by six votes 
 to four to give him another chance. But in the case of 
 Mrs. Fitz the meeting was absolutely unanimous." 
 
 "My God !" said the occupant of the breakfast table, 
 "If that ain't the limit !" 
 
 "Mrs. Fitz is a good deal more than the limit." Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot's eyes sparkled with truculence.
 
 14 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Have a cigarette, my dear fellow," said I, offering 
 my case to the unfortunate Brasset as soon as the state 
 of my emotions would permit me to do so. 
 
 Brasset selected a cigarette with an air of intense 
 melancholy. As he applied the lighted match that was 
 offered him he favoured me with an eye that was so woe- 
 begone that it must have moved a heart of stone to pity. 
 On the contrary, my fellow pilgrim through this vale of 
 tears had turned a most becoming shade of pink, which 
 she invariably does when she is really out upon the war- 
 path. Also in her china blue eyes I hope such a de- 
 scription of these weapons will pass the Censor was 
 a look of grim unalterable ruthlessness, before which 
 men quite as stout as Brasset have had to quail. 
 
 The noble Master took a draw at his Egyptian. 
 
 "Look here, Arbuthnot," said he, "you are a wise 
 chap, ain't you?" 
 
 "He thinks he's wise," said my helpmeet. 
 
 "Every man does," said I, modestly, "not necessarily" 
 as an article of faith but as a point of ritual." 
 
 "Yes, of course," said Brasset with an air of intelli- 
 gence that imposed upon nobody. "But everybody 
 says you are the wise chap. That little Mrs. Perkins 
 says you are the wisest chap she has met out of Lon- 
 don." 
 
 This indiscretion on the part of Brasset some men 
 have so little tact ! provoked a stiffening of plumage ; 
 and if the china blue eyes did not shoot forth a spark 
 this chronicle is not likely to be of much account. 
 
 "Stick to the point, if you please," said I. "I plead 
 guilty to being a Solomon."
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A M.F.H. 15 
 
 "Well, as you are a wise chap," said the blunderer, 
 "and I'm by the way of being an ass " 
 
 "I don't agree with you at all, Lord Brasset," piped 
 a fair admirer. 
 
 "Oh, but I am, Mrs. Arbuthnot," said Brasset, dis- 
 senting with that courtesy in which he was supreme. 
 "It's awfully good of you to say I'm not, but every- 
 body knows I am not much of a chap at most things." 
 
 "You may not be so clever as Odo," said the wife of 
 my bosom, "because Odo's exceptional. But you are 
 an extremely able man all the same, Lord Brasset." 
 
 "She means to attend that sale at Tatt's on Wednes- 
 day," said the occupant of the breakfast table in an 
 aside to the marmalade. 
 
 "Well, if I am not such a fool as I think I am," so 
 perfect a sincerity disarmed criticism "it is awfully 
 good of you Mrs. Arbuthnot to say so. But what I 
 mean is, I should like Arbuthnot's advice on the subject 
 of on the subject of " 
 
 "On the subject of Mrs. Fitz," said Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 with the coo of the dove and the glance of the rattle- 
 snake. 
 
 "Ye-es," said the noble Master, nervously dropping 
 the ash from his cigarette on to a very expensive table- 
 cloth. 
 
 "Odo will be very pleased indeed, Lord Brasset," 
 said the superior half of my entity, "to give you advice 
 about Mrs. Fitz. He agrees with me and Mary Cates- 
 by and Laura Glendinning, that she must be turned 
 out of the Hunt." 
 
 Poor Brasset removed a bead of perspiration from
 
 16 MRS. FITZ 
 
 the perplexed melancholy of his features with a silk 
 handkerchief of vivid hue, own brother to the one 
 sported by the Bayard at the breakfast table, in a futile 
 attempt to cope with his dismay. 
 
 "Is it usual, Mrs. Arbuthnot?" 
 
 "It may not be usual, Lord Brasset, but Mrs. Fitz 
 is not a usual woman." 
 
 "My dear Irene," said I judicially Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 rejoices in the classical name of Irene "My dear 
 Irene, I understand Brasset to mean that there is noth- 
 ing in the articles of association of the Crackan- 
 thorpe Hunt to provide against the contingency of 
 Mrs. Fitz or any other British matron overriding 
 hounds as often as she likes. 
 
 Although I have had no regular legal training be- 
 yond having once lunched in the hall of Gray's Inn, 
 everybody knows my uncle the judge. But I regret to 
 say that this weighty deliverance did not meet with 
 entire respect in the quarter in which it was entitled 
 to look for it. 
 
 "That is nonsense, Odo," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "I am 
 sure the Quorn " 
 
 Brasset's misery assumed so acute a phase at the 
 mention of the Quorn that Mrs. Arbuthnot paused sym- 
 pathetically. 
 
 "The Quorn my God !" muttered the Bayard at the 
 breakfast table in an aside to the tea-kettle. 
 
 "Or the Cottesmore," continued the undefeated Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot, "would not stand such behaviour from a 
 person like Mrs. Fitz." 
 
 "Do you think so, Mrs. Arbuthnot?" said the noble
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A M.F.H. 17 
 
 Master. "You see we shouldn't like to get our names 
 up by doing something unusual." 
 
 "An unusual person must be dealt with in an un- 
 usual way," said Mrs. Arbuthnot with great senten- 
 tiousness. "Mary Catesby thinks " 
 
 The long arm of coincidence is sometimes very start- 
 ling, and I can vouch for it that the entrance of Parkins 
 at this psychological moment to herald the appearance 
 of Mary Catesby in the flesh, greatly impressed us all 
 as something quite beyond the ordinary. 
 
 "Why, here is Mary," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, giving 
 that source of light and authority a cross-over kiss on 
 both cheeks. It is the hallmark of the married ladies of 
 our neighbourhood that they all delight to exhibit an 
 almost exaggerated reverence for Mary Catesby. 
 
 I have great esteem for Mary Catesby myself. For 
 one thing, she has deserved well of her country. The 
 mother of three girls and five boys, she is the British 
 matron in excelsis ; and apart from the habit she has 
 formed of riding in her horse's mouth, she has every 
 attribute of the best type of Christian gentlewoman. 
 She owns to thirty-nine to follow the ungallant ex- 
 ample of Debrett ! is the eldest daughter of a peer, and 
 is extremely authoritative in regard to everything under 
 the sun, from the price of eggs to the table of prece- 
 dence. 
 
 The admirable Mary her full name is Mary Augus- 
 ta may be a trifle over-elaborated. Her horses are 
 well up to fourteen stone. And as matter and mind are 
 one and the same, it is sometimes urged against her 
 that her manner is a little overwhelming. But this is
 
 18 MRS. FITZ 
 
 to seek for blemishes on the noonday sun of female ex- 
 cellence. One of a more fragile cast might find such a 
 weight of virtue a burden. But Mary Catesby wears 
 it like a flower. 
 
 In addition to her virtue she was also wearing a 
 fur cloak whieh was the secret envy of the entire fem- 
 inine population of the county, although individual 
 members thereof made it a point of honour to proclaim 
 for the benefit of one another : "Why does Mary persist 
 in wearing that ermine-tailed atrocity ! She really can't 
 know what a fright she looks in it." 
 
 As a matter of fact, Mary Catesby in her fur cloak 
 is one of the most impressive people the mind of man 
 can conceive. That fur cloak of hers can stop the Fly- 
 ing Dutchman at any wayside station between Land's 
 End and Paddington ; and on the platform at the annual 
 distribution of prizes at Middleham Grammar School, I 
 have seen more than one small boy so completely over- 
 come by it, that he has dropped "Macaulay's Essays" on 
 the head of the reporter of the Advertiser. 
 
 Besides this celebrated garment, Mary was adorned 
 with a bowler hat with enormous brims, not unlike that 
 affected by Mr. Weller the Elder as Cruickshank de- 
 picted him, and so redoubtable a pair of butcher boots 
 as literally made the earth tremble under her. 
 
 Her first remark was addressed, quite naturally, to 
 the unfortunate Brasset, who had been rendered a little 
 pinker and a little more perplexed than he already was 
 by this notable woman's impressive entry. 
 
 "I consider this weather disgraceful," said she. "It
 
 TRIBULATIONS OF A M.F.H. 19 
 
 always is when we go over to Morton's. Why is it, 
 Reggie?" 
 
 She spoke as though the luckless Reggie was per- 
 sonally responsible for the weather and also for the 
 insulting manner in which that much-criticised British 
 institution had deranged her plans. 
 
 "I am awfully sorry, Mrs. Catesby. Not much of a 
 day, is it?" 
 
 "Disgraceful. If one can't have better weather than 
 this, one might as well go and have a week's skating 
 at Prince's." 
 
 The idea of Mary Catesby having a week's skating 
 at Prince's seemed to appeal to Joseph Jocelyn De Vere. 
 At least that sportsman was pleased not a little. 
 
 "English style or Continental?" said he. 
 
 Mary Catesby did not deign to heed. 
 
 "I am awfully sorry, Mrs. Catesby," said Brasset 
 again, with really beautiful humility. 
 
 Mrs. Catesby declined to accept this delightfully 
 courteous apology, but gazed down her chin at the un- 
 fortunate Brasset with that ample air which invariably 
 makes her look like Minerva as Titian conceived that 
 deity. Silently, pitilessly, she proceeded to fix the whole 
 responsibility for the weather upon the Master of the 
 Crackanthorpe. 
 
 She had just performed this feat with the greatest 
 efficiency, when by no means the least of her admirers 
 put in an oar. 
 
 "I'm so glad you've come, Mary," said Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not. "We were just having it out with Lord Brasset 
 about Mrs. Fitz."
 
 20 MRS. FITZ 
 
 An uncomfortable silence followed. 
 
 "Is she a subject for discussion in a mixed company?" 
 said I to relieve the tension. 
 
 "I should say not," said Mary. "But Reggie has 
 been so weak that there is no help for it." 
 
 "The victim of circumstances, perhaps," said I, with 
 generous unwisdom. 
 
 "People who are weak always are the victims of cir- 
 cumstances. If Reggie had only been firmer at the be- 
 ginning, we should not now be a laughing stock for 
 everybody. To my mind the first requisite in a master 
 of hounds, is resolution of character." 
 
 "Hear, hear," said the occupant of the breakfast 
 table, sotto voce. 
 
 The miserable Brasset whose pinkness and perplexity 
 were ever increasing, fairly quivered before the Great 
 Lady's forensic power. 
 
 "Do you think, Mrs. Catesby, I ought to resign?" 
 said he, with the humility that invites a kicking. 
 
 "Not now, surely; it would be too abject. If you 
 felt the situation was beyond you, you should have re- 
 signed at the beginning. You must show spirit, Reggie. 
 You must not submit to being trampled on publicly by 
 by " 
 
 The Great Lady paused, not because she was at a loss 
 for a word, but because like all born orators, she had 
 an instinctive knowledge of the value of a pause in the 
 right place. 
 
 "By a circus rider from Vienna," she concluded in 
 a level voice.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 
 
 "I KNOW, Mrs. Catesby, I'm not much of a chap," 
 said Brasset, "but what's a feller to do? I did drop 
 a hint to Fitz you know." 
 
 "Fitz!" The art of litterateur can only render a 
 scorn so sublime by two marks of exclamation. 
 
 "What did Fitz say ?" I ventured to inquire. 
 
 "Scowled like blazes," said Brasset miserably. 
 "Thought the cross-grained, three-cornered devil would 
 eat me. Beg pardon, Mrs. Catesby." 
 
 The Noble Master subsided into his glass of beer 
 in the most lamentably ineffectual manner. 
 
 I cleared my voice in the consciousness that I had an 
 uncle a judge. 
 
 "Brasset," said I, "will you kindly inform the court 
 what are the specific grounds of complaint against this 
 much maligned and unfortunate er female?" 
 
 "Don't make yourself ridiculous, Odo !" 
 
 "Odo, you know perfectly well!" 
 
 It was a dead heat between Mrs. Arbuthnot and the 
 Great Lady. 
 
 "Order, order," said I sternly. "This scene belongs 
 to Brasset. Now Brasset, answer the question, and then 
 perhaps something may be done." 
 
 21
 
 22 MRS. FITZ 
 
 It was not to be however. The nephew of my uncle 
 failed lamentably to exact obedience to the chair. 
 
 "My dear Odo," said Mary Catesby, in what I can 
 only describe as her Albert Hall manner, with her voice 
 going right up to the top like a flag going up a pole, 
 "do you mean to tell me ?" 
 
 " That you don't know how Mrs. Fitz has been 
 carrying on!" the Madam chipped in with really won- 
 derful cleverness. 
 
 "I don't, upon oath," said I solemnly. "You appear 
 to forget that I have been giving my time to the nation 
 during this abominable autumn session." 
 
 "So he has, poor dear," said the partner of my joy. 
 
 "Like a good citizen," said Mary Catesby, most 
 august of Primrose Dames. 
 
 "Thank you, Mary, I deserve it. But am I to under- 
 stand that Mrs. Fitz has flung her cap over the mill, 
 or that she has taken to riding astride, or is it that she 
 continues to affect that scarlet coat which last season 
 hastened the end of the Dowager ?" 
 
 "No, Arbuthnot." It was the voice of Brasset, vi- 
 brating with such deep emotion that it can only be com- 
 pared to the MarcJie Funebre performed upon a cathed- 
 ral organ. "But it was only by God's mercy that last 
 Tuesday morning she didn't override Challenger." 
 
 "Allah is great," said I. 
 
 "Upon my solemn word of honour," said the noble 
 Master, speaking from the depths, "she was within two 
 inches of the old gal's stern." 
 
 "Parkins," said a voice from the breakfast table, 
 "bring another glass of beer for his lordship."
 
 CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 23 
 
 To be perfectly frank, liquid sustenance was no longer 
 a vital necessity to the noble Master. He was already 
 rosy with indignation at the sudden memory of his 
 wrongs. Only one thing can induce Brasset to display 
 even a normal amount of spirit. That is the welfare 
 of the sacred charges over which he presides for the 
 public weal. He will suffer you to punch his head, to 
 tread on his toe, or to call him names, and as likely as 
 not, he will apologise sweetly for any inconvenience you 
 may have incurred in the process. But if you belittle 
 the Crackanthorpe Hounds or in any way endanger the 
 humblest member of the Fitzwilliam strain, woe unto 
 you. You transform Brasset into a veritable man of 
 blood and iron. He is invested with pathos and dignity. 
 The lightnings of heaven flash from beneath his long- 
 lashed orbs ; and from his somewhat narrow chest, there 
 is bodied forth a far richer vocabulary than the gen- 
 eral inefficiency of his appearance can possibly warrant 
 in any conceivable circumstance. 
 
 Mere feminine clamour was silenced by Brasset trans- 
 formed. His blue eyes glowed, his cheeks grew rosier, 
 each particular hair of his perfectly charming little 
 blond moustache, trimmed by Truefitt once a fortnight, 
 stood up on end like quills upon the fretful porpentine. 
 In lieu of pink abasement was tawny denunciation. 
 
 "I'll admit, Arbuthnot," said the Man of Blood and 
 Iron, "I looked at the woman as no man ought to look at 
 a lady." 
 
 "Didn't you say 'damn,' Lord Brasset?" piped a 
 demure seeker after knowledge.
 
 24 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "I may have done, Mrs. Arbuthnot, I admit I may 
 have done." 
 
 "I think that ought to go down on the depositions," 
 said I, with an approximation to the manner of my 
 uncle, the judge, that was very tolerable for an ama- 
 teur. 
 
 "I honour you for it, Lord Brasset. Don't you, 
 Mary?" 
 
 "Endeavour not to embarrass the witness," said I. 
 "Go on, Brasset." 
 
 "Brasset, here's your beer," said Jodey rising from 
 the table and personally handing the Burton brew with 
 vast solemnity. 
 
 "I may have damned her eyes," proceeded the witness, 
 "or I mayn't have done. You see, she was within two 
 inches of the old gal, and I may have lost my head for 
 a bit. I'll admit that no man ought to damn the eyes of 
 a lady. Mind, I don't say I did. And yet I don't say I 
 didn't. It all happened before you could say 'knife,' 
 and I'll admit I was rattled." 
 
 "The witness admits he was rattled," said I. 
 
 "So would you have been, old son," the witness con- 
 tinued magniloquently. "Within two inches, upon my 
 oath." 
 
 "Were there reprisals on the part of the lady whose 
 eyes you had damned in a moment of mental duress?" 
 
 "Rather. She damned mine in Dutch." 
 
 Sensation. 
 
 "How did you know it was Dutch, Lord Brasset?" 
 piped a seeker of knowledge. 
 
 "By the behaviour of the hounds, Mrs. Arbuthnot."
 
 CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 25 
 
 "How did they behave?" 
 "The beggars bolted." 
 Sensation. 
 
 "My aunt," said the occupant of the breakfast table 
 with solemn irrelevance. 
 
 "So would you," said the noble Master. "I never heard 
 anything like it. In my opinion there is no language 
 like Dutch when it comes to cursing. And then before 
 I could blink, up went her hand, and she gave me one 
 over the head with her crop." 
 Sensation. 
 
 "Upon my solemn word of honour. I don't mind 
 shewing the mark to anybody." 
 "Where is it, Lord Brasset?" 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot rose from her chair in the ecstatic 
 pursuit of first hand information. Her eyes were wide 
 and glowing like those of her small daughter, Miss Lu- 
 cinda, when she hears the story of "The Three Bears." 
 "Shew me the scar, Reggie," said a Minerva-like 
 voice. 
 
 "Let's see it, Brasset," said the occupant of the break- 
 fast table, kicking over a piece of Chippendale of the 
 best period and incidentally breaking the back of it. 
 
 The somewhat melodramatic investigation of a thick 
 layer of Rowland's Macassar oil and a thin layer of 
 fair hair disclosed an unmistakable weal immediately 
 above the left temple of the noble martyr in the cause of 
 public duty. 
 
 "If it don't beat cockfighting !" said Jodey in a tone 
 of undisguised admiration. 
 
 "If it hadn't been for the rim of my cap," said the
 
 26 MRS. FITZ 
 
 noble martyr in response to the public enthusiasm, "it 
 must have laid my head clean open." 
 
 "In my opinion," said Mary Catesby, speaking ex 
 cathedra, "that woman is a perfect devil. Reggie, if 
 you only shew firmness you can count upon support. 
 They may stand that sort of thing in a Continental 
 circus, but we don't stand it in the Crackanthorpe 
 Hunt." 
 
 "Firmness, Brasset," said I, anxiously like all the 
 world, to echo the oracle. 
 
 The little blond moustache was subjected to inhuman 
 treatment. 
 
 "It's all very well, you know, but what's the use of 
 being firm with a person who is just as firm as yourself?" 
 
 The Great Lady snorted. 
 
 "For three years, Reggie, you have filled a difficult 
 office passably well. Don't let a little thing like this be 
 your undoing." 
 
 "All very well, Mrs Catesby, but I can't hit her over 
 the head, can I ?" 
 
 "No, but what about Fitz?" said a voice from the 
 breakfast table. 
 
 'Ye-es, I hadn't thought of that." 
 
 "And I shouldn't think of it if I were you," said I 
 cordially. "Fitz with all his errors is a heftier chap 
 than you are, my son." 
 
 Brasset's jaw dropped doubtfully it is quite a good 
 jaw, by the way. 
 
 "Practise the left a bit, Brasset," was the advice of 
 the breakfast table. "I know a chap in Jermyn Street 
 who has had lessons from Burns. We might trot up and
 
 CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 27 
 
 see him after lunch. Bring a Bradshaw, Parkins. And 
 I think we had better send a wire." 
 
 "I wasn't so bad with my left when I was up at Trin- 
 ity," said Brasset. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot shuddered audibly. She has long 
 been an out and out admirer of the noble Master's nose. 
 Certainly its contour has great elegance and refinement. 
 
 "Brasset," said I, "let me urge you not to listen to 
 evil communications. If you were Burns himself you 
 would do well to play very lightly with Fitz. He was 
 my fag at school, and although sometimes there was oc- 
 casion to visit him with an ash plant or a toasting fork 
 in the manner prescribed by the house regulations at 
 that ancient seat of learning, I shouldn't advise you or 
 anybody else to undertake a scheme of personal chastise- 
 ment." 
 
 "Certainly not, Reggie," said Mary Catesby, in re- 
 sponse to Mrs. Arbuthnot's imploring gaze. "Odo is 
 perfectly right. Besides you must behave like a gentle- 
 man. It is the woman with whom you must deal." 
 
 "Well, I can't hit her, can I?" said Brasset plain- 
 tively. 
 
 "If a cove's wife hit me over the head with a crop," 
 said the voice of youth, "I should want to hit the cove 
 that had the wife that hit me, and so would Odo. I see 
 there's a train at two fifteen gets to town at five." 
 
 Brasset's eyes are as softly, translucently blue as 
 those of Miss Lucinda, but in them was the light of bat- 
 tle. He no longer tugged at his upper lip, but stroked 
 it gently. To those conversant with these mysteries, 
 this portent was sinister.
 
 28 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Is Genee on at the Empire?" said he. 
 
 "Parkins knows," said Jodey. 
 
 Parkins did know. 
 
 "Yes, my lord," said that peerless factotum, "she is." 
 
 In parenthesis, I ought to mention that Parkins is 
 the piece de resistance of our modest establishment. 
 Not only is he highly accomplished in all the polite arts 
 practised by man, but also he is a walking compendium 
 of exact information. 
 
 "How's this?" said Jodey, proceeding to read aloud 
 the telegram he had composed with studious care. "Dine 
 self and pal Romano's 7.30. Empire afterwards. Book 
 three stalls in centre." 
 
 "Wouldn't the side be better?" said Brasset. "Then 
 you are out of the draught." 
 
 Before this important correction could be made Mary 
 Catesby lifted her voice in all its natural majesty. 
 
 "Reginald Philip Horatio," said the most august of 
 her sex, "as one who dressed dolls and composed hymns 
 with your poor dear mother before she made her im- 
 prudent marriage, I forbid you absolutely to fight with 
 such a man as Nevil Fitzwaren. It is not seemly, it is 
 not Christian, and Nevil Fitzwaren is a far more power- 
 ful man than yourself." 
 
 "Science will beat brute force at any hour of the day 
 or night," was the opinion of the breakfast table. 
 
 Mrs. Catesby fixed the breakfast table with her in- 
 vincible north eye. 
 
 "Joseph, pray hold your tongue. This is very wrong 
 advice you are giving to a man who is rather older and 
 quite as foolish as yourself."
 
 CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 29 
 
 The Bayard of the breakfast table rebutted the in- 
 dictment. 
 
 "The advice is sound enough," said he. "My pal in 
 Jermyn Street has won no end of pots as a middle weight 
 and he'll soon have a go at the heavies now he's taken 
 to supping at the Savoy. He'll put Brasset all right. 
 He's clever as daylight, a pupil of Burns. I tell you 
 what, Mrs. C., if Brasset leads off with a left and a right 
 and follows up with a half -arm hook on the point, in my 
 opinion he'll have a walk over." 
 
 "Reggie, I forbid you absolutely," said the early col- 
 laborator with the noble Master's mother. "It is so un- 
 civilised ; besides, if Nevil Fitzwaren happened to be the 
 first to lead off with a half -arm hook on the point, we 
 should probably require a new master. And that would 
 be so awkward. It was always a maxim of my dear 
 father's that foxes were the only things that profited by 
 a change of mastership in the middle of December." 
 
 "Your dear father was right, Mary," said I gravely. 
 
 "Dear father was infallible. But seriously, Reggie, 
 if anything happened to you we should really have no- 
 body to take the hounds now that for some obscure rea- 
 son they have made Odo a member of Parliament." 
 
 "If a cove's wife hit me," came the refrain from the 
 breakfast table in a kind of drone, "I should want to 
 hit the cove that had the wife that hit me. See that this 
 wire is sent, Parkins, and tell Kelly that I am running 
 up to town by the 2.15 and shall stay the night." 
 
 "Jody, don't be a fool," said I. "Brasset, I want to 
 say this. I hope you are listening, Mary, and you too,
 
 30 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Irene. Where Fitz and his wife are concerned, we have 
 all got to play lightly." 
 
 I summoned all the earnestness of which I am capable. 
 Even Mary Catesby was impressed by such an air of 
 conviction. 
 
 "I fail to see," said she, "why we should be so espe- 
 cially considerate of the feelings of the Fitzwarens, when 
 they are the last to consider the feelings of others." 
 
 "You can take it from me, Mary, that Fitz and his 
 wife are not to be judged altogether by ordinary stand- 
 ards. They are extraordinary people." 
 
 "Tell me what you mean by the term extraordinary ?" 
 said my inquisitorial spouse. 
 
 "Does it really require explanation, mon enfant?" 
 
 "It means," said the plain-spoken Mary, "that Nevil 
 Fitzwaren is an extraordinary reckless and dissolute 
 type of fellow, and that Mrs. Nevil is an extraordinarily 
 unpleasant type of woman." 
 
 I am the first to admit that that ineffectual thing, 
 the mere human male, is not of the calibre openly to dis- 
 sent from a considered judgment of the Great Lady. 
 But to the amazement of men and doubtless of gods, for 
 once in a way her opinion was publicly challenged. 
 
 You could have heard a pin drop in that room when 
 the occupant of the breakfast table took up the gage. 
 
 "Fitz is a bad hat." Joseph Jocelyn De Vere re- 
 moved his pipe from his lips. "Everybody knows it. 
 But Mrs. Fitz is a thousand times too good for the cove 
 that's married her." 
 
 Such an expression of opinion left his sister open-
 
 CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 31 
 
 mouthed. Mary Catesby lowered her chin and her eye- 
 lashes at an indiscretion so portentous. 
 
 "The Fitzwarens," said the great authority, "are a 
 very old family, and Nevil has the education, if not the 
 instincts, of a gentleman, but as for this circus rider he 
 has brought from Vienna, she has neither the birth, the 
 education nor the instincts of a lady." 
 
 This tremendous pronouncement would have put most 
 people out of action at once. But here was a man of 
 mettle. 
 
 "She's tophole," said that Bayard. "I've never seen 
 her equal. If you ask my opinion there's not a chap in 
 the Hunt who is fit to open a gate for Mrs. Fitz." 
 
 The young fellow had fairly got the bit between his 
 teeth and no mistake. 
 
 "One doesn't ask your opinion, Joseph," said Mary 
 Catesby, with a bluntness that would have felled a 
 bullock. "Why should one, pray? I know no person 
 less fitter to express an opinion on any subject." 
 
 "I've followed her line anyhow, and I've been proud 
 to follow it. She can ride cunning, too, mind you. I've 
 never seen her equal anywhere, and don't suppose I ever 
 shall." 
 
 "No one questions her riding. She was born and 
 bred in a circus. But a more unmitigated female bound- 
 er never jumped through a hoop in pink tights." 
 
 It was below the belt, and not only Jodey but Brasset, 
 who, inefficient as he is in most things, is unmistakably a 
 sportsman of the first class, also felt it to be so. 
 
 "Mrs. Fitz has foreign ways," said the noble Master,
 
 32 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "but she can be as nice as anybody when she likes. I've 
 known her be awfully civil." 
 
 "She is not without charm," said I, feeling that it 
 was up to me to play up a bit. 
 
 "She's it," said Jodey. "She's the sort of woman that 
 would make a chap " 
 
 "Shoot himself," chirrupped the noble Master. 
 
 Disgust and indignation are mild terms to apply to 
 Mrs. Catesby's wrath. 
 
 "Pair of boobies ! You are as bad as he is, Reggie. 
 But it was always so like your poor mother to take 
 things lying down." 
 
 "Oh, come now, Mrs. Catesby, haven't I said all 
 along that she had no right to hit me over the head with 
 her crop ?" 
 
 "The saftest place in which to hit you, anyway." The 
 Great Lady was in peril of losing her temper. 
 
 The question of Mrs. Fitz was a very vexed one in the 
 Crackanthorpe Hunt. It had already divided that 
 proud institution into two sections ; i.e., the thick and 
 thin supporters of that lady and those who would not 
 have her at any price. It need excite no remark in the 
 minds of the judicious, that the male followers of the 
 Hunt, almost to a man, admired as much as they dared 
 in the circumstances, a very remarkable personality; 
 while its feminine patrons with a unanimity quite with- 
 out precedent in that august body, were conspiring to 
 humiliate as deeply as it lay in their power, a personage 
 who had set three counties by the ears. 
 
 The Great Lady proceeded to temper her wrath with 
 some extremely dignified pathos.
 
 CASE FOR THE PROSECUTION 33 
 
 "It is a mystery to me," said she, "how men who call 
 themselves gentlemen can attempt to defend a creature 
 who offered a public affront to the Duke and dear 
 Evelyn." 
 
 "I presume you mean the affair of the bazaar?" 
 said I. 
 
 "I do ; a lamentable fracas. Dear Evelyn never left 
 her bed for a fortnight." 
 
 "Dear me ! Are we to understand that actual physi- 
 cal violence was offered to her Grace?" 
 
 "Don't be childish, Odo! I was present and saw 
 everything, and I can answer for it that no such thing 
 as violence was used." 
 
 "Then why did the great lady take to her bed?" 
 
 "Through sheer vexation. And really one doesn't 
 wonder. It was nothing less than a public insult." 
 
 "Tell me, Mary, precisely in three words what did 
 happen at the bazaar. All the world agrees that it was 
 a desperate affair, yet nobody seems to know exactly 
 what it was that occurred." 
 
 Mrs. Catesby enveloped herself in that mantle of 
 high diplomacy that she is pleased so often to assume. 
 
 "No, my dear Odo, I don't think it would be kind to 
 the Duke and dear Evelyn to say actually what did oc- 
 cur. To my mind it is not a thing to be spoken of, but 
 I may tell you this it has been mentioned at Windsor !" 
 
 It was clear from the Great Lady's demeanour that 
 at this announcement we were all expected to cross our- 
 selves. Only Mrs. Arbuthnot did so, however. 
 
 "Oh, Mary !" The china blue eyes swam with ecstasy. 
 
 "If you wish to convey to us, my dear Mary," said I,
 
 34 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "that a royal commission has been appointed to inquire 
 into the subject, all experience tends to teach that there 
 will be less prospect than ever of finding out what hap- 
 pened at the bazaar." 
 
 "Tell us what really did happen at the bazaar, Mrs. 
 Catesby," said Brasset. "I am sorry I wasn't there." 
 
 "No, Reggie, I am much too fond of dear Evelyn to 
 disclose the truth to a living soul. But I may tell you 
 this. The incident was far worse than has been re- 
 ported." 
 
 "I understand," said I, solemnly lying, at the in- 
 stance of the histrionic sense, "that Windsor earnestly 
 desired that the incident, whatever it was, should be 
 minimised as much as possible." 
 
 The bait was gobbled, hook and all. 
 
 "How did you come to hear that, Odo? Even 7 
 was not told that." 
 
 "Who told you that, Odo?" Mrs. Arbuthnot twit- 
 tered breathlessly. 
 
 "There was a rumour the other day in the House." 
 
 "The idle gossip of the lobbies," the Great Lady was 
 moved to affirm. 
 
 But we were straying away from the point. And the 
 point was, in what manner was public decency to mark 
 its sense of outrage at the conduct of Mrs. Fitz.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE MIDDLE COURSE 
 
 ALTHOUGH so many conflicting rumours were abroad 
 as to the unparalleled affront that had been offered to 
 the Strawberry Leaf some accounts had it that "Dear 
 Evelyn" had been called "a cat" within the hearing of 
 the Mayor and other civic dignitaries of Middleham, 
 while others were pleased to affirm that she had had her 
 ears boxed before the eyes of the horrified reporter for 
 the Advertiser there was the implicit word of Brasset 
 that he had been subjected not only to unchaste ex- 
 pressions in a foreign tongue, but had actually been in 
 receipt of physical violence in his honourable endeavour 
 to uphold the dignity and the discipline of the Crackan- 
 thorpe Hunt. 
 
 I hope and believe I am a lenient judge of the offences 
 of others fellow occupants of our local bench delight 
 to tell me so but even I was so imbued with the spirit 
 of the meeting as to allow that some kind of official notice 
 ought to be taken of the outrageous conduct of Mrs. 
 Nevil Fitzwaren. From the first hour of her appear- 
 ance among us, a short fifteen months ago, she had gath- 
 ered the storm clouds of controversy about her. Almost 
 as soon as she appeared out cubbing, she became the 
 most discussed person in the shire. Her ways were un- 
 
 35
 
 36 MRS. FITZ 
 
 mistakably foreign and "unconventional ;" and certain- 
 ly, in the saddle and out of it her personality can only 
 be described as a little overpowering. 
 
 In the beginning it may have been Fitz himself who 
 contributed as much as anything to the notoriety of his 
 continental wife. Five years before, the only surviving 
 son of a disreputable father had let the house of his 
 ancestors in a state of gross disrepair, together with the 
 paternal acres, to a City magnate, and betook himself, 
 Heaven alone knew where. Wise people, however, were 
 more than willing that the President of the Destinies 
 should retain the sole and exclusive possession of this 
 information. Nobody had the least desire to know 
 where Fitz the Younger, unmistakable scion of a some- 
 what deplorable dynasty, was to be found, except per- 
 haps, a few London tradesmen, who, if wise men, would 
 be sparing of their tears. They might have been hit 
 so much harder than proved to be the case. Wherever 
 Fitz had gone, those who knew most of him and the 
 stock from which he sprang, devoutly hoped that there 
 he would stay. 
 
 For five years we knew him not. And then one fine 
 September afternoon he turned up at the Grange with 
 a motor car and a French chauffeur and a foreign wife. 
 It may not seem kind to say so, but in the interests of 
 this strange but over-true tale, it is well to state clearly 
 that his return was highly disconcerting to all sections 
 of the community. His name was still an offence in the 
 ears of an obsequious and by no means over-censorious 
 countryside. Rural England is astonishingly lenient
 
 THE MIDDLE COURSE 37 
 
 "to Squoire and his relations," but Master Nevil had 
 proved too stiff a proposition even for its forbearance. 
 
 Howbeit, Fitz had hardly been a week at his ancestral 
 home with his foreign wife and his motor car when there 
 began to be signs of a rise in Fitzwaren stock. It was 
 bruited abroad that he was paying his debts, fulfilling 
 long neglected obligations, that he had given up the 
 bowl, and that, in a word, he was doing his best to clear 
 a pretty black record. Indeed, the upward tendency of 
 the Fitzwaren stock was so well maintained, that it was 
 decided by the Committee for the Maintenance of the 
 Public Decency that the august Mrs. Catesby should 
 call on his wife and so pave the way for the entente. 
 After all, the Fitzwarens were the Fitzwarens, and our 
 revered Vicar the hardest riding parson in five Coun- 
 ties clinched the matter with the most opposite quota- 
 tion from Holy Writ in which he has ever indulged. 
 
 The august Mrs. Catesby bore the olive branch in 
 the form of a couple of pieces of pasteboard to the 
 Grange in due course ; Mrs. Arbuthnot, the Vicar's wife, 
 Laura Glendinning, and the rank and file of the cus- 
 todians of the public decency followed suit; and such 
 an atmosphere of the best type of Christian mag- 
 nanimity prevailed, that it was quite on the tapis that 
 "dear Evelyn" herself, the Perpetual President and Past 
 Grand Mistress of this strenuous society, would shoot a 
 card at the Grange. To shew that this is not the idle 
 gossip of an empty tale, there is Mrs. Catesby's own 
 declaration, made in Mrs. Arbuthnot's own drawing- 
 room in the presence of Laura Glendinning and the Vic- 
 ar's wife, "that had Mrs. Fitz only been presented she
 
 38 MRS. FITZ 
 
 was in a position to know that dear Evelyn would have 
 called upon her." 
 
 That was the hour in which the Fitzwaren stock 
 touched its zenith. Thenceforward there was a fall in 
 price. Nevertheless, it was agreed that Fitz was a re- 
 formed character. A glass of beer for luncheon, a glass 
 of wine for dinner, and a maximum of three whiskies and 
 sodas per diem; handsome indemnity paid to the daugh- 
 ter of the landlord of the Fitzwaren Arms ; propitia- 
 tion galore to persons of all degrees and shades of opin- 
 ion ; appearance with the ducal party at the Cockf oster 
 shoot ; regular attendance at Church every Sunday fore- 
 noon. Fitz made the pace so hot that the wise declared 
 it could not possibly last. They were wrong, however, 
 as the wise are occasionally. Fitz had more staying 
 power than friends and neighbours were prepared to 
 concede to the son of his father. But in spite of all 
 this, once the slump set in, it continued steadily. 
 
 Those who had known Fitz before the reformation 
 were not slow to believe that it was no strength of the 
 inner nature that had rendered him a vessel of grace. It 
 was excessively creditable, of course to the black sheep 
 of the fold, but the whole merit of the reclamation be- 
 longed not to the prodigal, but to the nondescript lady 
 from the continent who had not been presented at Court. 
 The depth of Fitz's infatuation for that unconven- 
 tional creature was really grotesque. 
 
 To the merely masculine intelligence it would have 
 seemed that an influence so beneficient over one so be- 
 smirched as poor Fitz must have counted to that lady 
 for righteousness on the high court scale. But the Com-
 
 THE MIDDLE COURSE 39 
 
 mittee for the Maintenance of the Public Decency came 
 to quite another conclusion. The mere male cannot do 
 better than give in extenso the Committee's report upon 
 the matter, and for the text of this judicial pearl our 
 thanks are due to the august Mrs. Catesby. 
 
 "If she had been Anybody," that great and good 
 woman announced, "one would have felt it only right 
 to encourage Nevil Fitzwaren in his praiseworthy ef- 
 fort, but as dear Evelyn has been informed, on unim- 
 peachable authority, that she used to ride bare-back in 
 a circus in Vienna, it is quite clear that the wretched 
 fellow is in the toils of an infatuation." 
 
 After this finding by the Committee, holders of Fitz- 
 waren stock unloaded quickly. Yet there were some of 
 these spectators who were loth to take that course. Fitz, 
 the harum-scarum, with his nails trimmed, was a less 
 picturesque figure than the provincial Don Juan; but 
 there were those who were not slow to aver that the fair 
 equestrienne he had had the audacity to import from 
 Vienna, was quite the most romantic figure that had ever 
 hunted with the Crackanthorpe Hounds. 
 
 Doubtless she had been born in a stable and reared 
 upon mare's milk, but to behold her mounted upon the 
 strain of the Godolphin Arabian, in a tall hat, military 
 gauntlets and a scarlet coat was a spectacle that few 
 beholders were able to forget. In the opinion of the 
 Committee, there can be no doubt whatever that it 
 hastened the end of the Dowager. The old lady drove 
 to the meet at the Cross Roads, behind her fat old 
 ponies and her fat old coachman John Timmins, in the 
 full enjoyment of all her faculties, with a shrewd wit,
 
 40 MRS. FITZ 
 
 an easy conscience and a good appetite, took one glance 
 at Mrs. Nevil Fitzwaren, told John Timmins in a hoarse 
 whisper to go home immediately ; had a stroke before 
 she arrived, and passed away without regaining con- 
 sciousness, in the presence of her spiritual, her medical 
 and legal advisers. 
 
 In the inflamed state of the public mind, it was neces- 
 sary that persons of moderate views should be wary. 
 I had seen Mrs. Fitz out hunting, and in this place 
 I am open to confess that I was sealed of the tribe of 
 her admirers. Not from the athletic standpoint merely, 
 but from the aesthetic one. Quite a young woman 
 with superb black eyes and a forest of raven hair, a skin 
 of lustrous olive, a nose and chin of extraordinary deci- 
 sion and character, a more imperiously challenging per- 
 sonality I cannot remember to have seen. Professional 
 Viennese equestriennes are doubtless a race apart. They 
 may be accustomed to exact homage from their world 
 which in ours is reserved more or less for the "dear 
 Evelyns" and their compeers. But the gaze of this 
 haughty queen of the sawdust, when she condescended 
 to exert it, was the most direct and arresting thing 
 that ever exacted tribute from the English male or flut- 
 tered the dovecotes of the scandalised English female. 
 Her "what-pray-are-you-doing-on-the-earth?" air was 
 so vital that it sent a thrill through the veins. Small 
 wonder was it that the hapless Fitz had struggled so 
 gamely to pull himself together. She was a woman to 
 make a man or mar him. As Fitz was marred already, 
 the sphere of her activities were limited accordingly. 
 
 Like most men of moderate views, at heart I own to
 
 THE MIDDLE COURSE 41 
 
 being a bit of a coward. At any rate it would have 
 taken a wild horse to drag the admission from me that 
 I was an out and out admirer of The Stormy Petrel, 
 as with rare felicity the vicar of the parish had chris- 
 tened her. For by this time our little republic was 
 cloven in twain. There were the Mrs. Fitzites, her hum- 
 ble admirers and willing slaves, whose sex you will easily 
 guess; and there were the Anti-Mrs. Fitzites, ruthless 
 adversaries who had sworn to have her blood, or failing 
 that, since Atalanta was an amazon indeed, to make the 
 place so hot for her, that in the words of my friend Mrs. 
 Josiah P. Perkins, "she would have to quit." 
 
 How to dislodge her, that was the problem for the 
 ladies of the Crackanthorpe Hunt. It was in the quest 
 of a solution that the illustrious Mrs. Catesby had 
 honoured us with a morning call. 
 
 "Odo Arbuthnot," said that notable woman, "it is 
 my intention to speak plainly. Mrs. Fitz must leave the 
 neighbourhood. We look to you, as a married man, a 
 father of a family and a county member, to devise a 
 means for her removal." 
 
 "Issue a writ," said I. "That seems the most 
 straightforward course. If our assaulted and battered 
 friend, Brasset, will swear an information, I shall be 
 glad to sign the warrant." 
 
 "Do you think she could be taken to prison?" said 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot, hopefully. 
 
 "Don't attempt to beg the question." The Great 
 Lady was not to be diverted from the scent. "Be more 
 manly. We expect public spirit from you. Certainly 
 this business is extremely disagreeable, but it does not
 
 42 MRS. FITZ 
 
 excuse your pusillanimity. To my mind, your attitude 
 all along has suggested that you are trying to run with 
 the hare and to hunt with the hounds." 
 
 This was a terrible home-thrust for a confirmed lover 
 of the middle-course. I hope I am not wholly lacking in 
 spirit, but such a charge was not easy to rebut. While I 
 assumed a statesmanlike part, if only to gain a little 
 time in which to cover my exposed position, my relation 
 by marriage with a daring which was certainly remark- 
 able in one who is not by nature a thruster, took up the 
 cudgels yet again. 
 
 "If I were you, Odo," said he, "I should let 'em do 
 their own dirty work." 
 
 I felt Mary Catesby's glance flash past me like the 
 lightning of heaven. 
 
 "Dirty work, Joseph. I demand an explanation." 
 
 "I call it dirty," said that gladiator. "I like things 
 straightforrard myself. If you think a cove is askin* 
 for trouble hand it out to him personally. Don't set on 
 others." 
 
 Before the woman of impregnable virtue to whom this 
 gem of morality was addressed, could visit the Bayard at 
 the breakfast table according to his merit, we found 
 ourselves suddenly precipitated into the realms of 
 drama. 
 
 For this was the moment in which I became aware 
 that Parkins was hovering about my chair and that a 
 sensational announcement was on his lips. 
 
 "Mr. Fitzwaren desires to see you, sir, on most urgent 
 business." 
 
 The effect was electrical. Mary Catesby suspended
 
 THE MIDDLE COURSE 43 
 
 her indictment with a gesture like Boadicea's, queenly 
 but ferocious. Brasset's pink perplexity approximated 
 to a shade of green ; the eyes of the Madam were like 
 moons in the circumstances a little poetic license is 
 surely to be pardoned while as for the demeanour of 
 the narrator of this ower true tale, I can answer for it 
 that it was one of total discomfiture. 
 
 "Mr. Fitzwaren here?" were my first incredulous 
 words. 
 
 "I have shewn him into the library, sir," said Parkins 
 solemnly. 
 
 "You cannot see him, Odo," said the despot of our 
 household. "He must not come here." 
 
 "Important business, Parkins?" said I. 
 
 "Most urgent business, sir." 
 
 "Highly mysterious !" Mrs. Catesby was pleased to 
 affirm. 
 
 Highly mysterious the coming of Nevil Fitzwaren 
 certainly was. A moment's reflection convinced me of 
 the need of appeasing the general curiosity. I took 
 my way to the library with many speculations rising 
 in my mind. Nothing was further from my expectation 
 than to be consulted by Nevil Fitzwaren on urgent 
 business.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 ABOUNDS IN SENSATION 
 
 ASTONISHED as I was by the coming of such a visitor, 
 the appearance and the manner of that much-discussed 
 personage did nothing to lessen my interest. 
 
 I found him pacing the room in a state of agitation. 
 His face was haggard, his eyes were bloodshot, he was 
 unkempt and almost piteous to look upon. And yet 
 more strangely his open overcoat which his distress 
 could not suffer to keep buttoned, disclosed a rumpled 
 shirt front, a tie askew and a dinner jacket which evi- 
 dently had been donned the evening before. 
 
 "Hallo, Fitz," said I, as unconcernedly as I could. 
 
 He did not answer me but immediately closed the door 
 of the room. Somehow, the action gave me a thrill. 
 
 "There is no possibility of our being overheard?" he 
 said in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 "None whatever. Let me help you off with your 
 coat. Then sit down in that chair next the fire and have 
 a drink." 
 
 "Fitz submitted, doubtless under a sense of compul- 
 sion. My four years' seniority at school had generally 
 enabled me to get my way with him. It was rather 
 painful to witness the effort the unfortunate fellow 
 put forth to pull himself together ; and when I measured 
 
 44
 
 ABOUNDS IN SENSATION 45 
 
 out a pretty stiff brandy and soda his refusal of it was 
 distinctly poignant. 
 
 "I oughtn't to have it, old chap," he said with his 
 wild eyes looking into mine like those of a dumb animal. 
 "It doesn't do, you know." 
 
 "Drink it straight off at once," said I, "and do as 
 you are told." 
 
 Fitz did so with reluctance. The effect upon him 
 was what I had not foreseen. His haggard wildness 
 yielded quite suddenly to an outburst of tears. He 
 covered his face with his hands and wept in a painfully 
 overwrought manner. 
 
 I waited in silence for this outburst to pass. 
 
 "I've been scouring the country since nine o'clock 
 last night," he said, "and I feel like going out of my 
 mind." 
 
 "What's the trouble, old son?" said I, taking a chair 
 beside him. 
 
 "They've got my wife." 
 
 "Whom do you mean by 'they'?" 
 
 "I can't, I mustn't tell you," said Fitz excitedly, "but 
 they have got her, and and I expect she is dead by 
 now." 
 
 Words as wild as these to the accompaniment of that 
 overwrought demeanour suggested an acute form of 
 mental disturbance only too clearly. 
 
 "You had better tell me everything," said I persua- 
 sively. "Perhaps I might be able to help a little. Two 
 heads are better than one, you know." 
 
 I must confess that I had no great hope of being 
 able to help the unlucky fellow very materially, but
 
 46 MRS. FITZ 
 
 somewhat to my surprise he answered in a perfectly 
 rational manner. 
 
 "I have come here with the intention of telling you 
 everything. I must have help and you are the only 
 friend I've got." 
 
 "One of many," said I, lying cordially. 
 
 "It's true," said Fitz. "The only one. Like that 
 chap in the Bible, the hand of every man is against 
 me. I deserve it; I know I've not played the game; 
 but now I must have somebody to stand by me and I've 
 come to you." 
 
 "Well," said I, "that is no more than you would 
 do by me in similar circumstances." 
 
 "You don't mean that," said Fitz with an expression 
 of keen misery. "But you are a genuine chap, all the 
 same." 
 
 "Let's hear the trouble." 
 
 "The trouble is this," said Fitz, and as he spoke the 
 look of wildness returned to his eyes. "My wife went 
 in the car to do some shopping at Middleham at three 
 o'clock yesterday afternoon expecting to be back at 
 five, and neither she nor the car has returned." 
 
 "And nothing has been heard of her ?" 
 
 "Not a word." 
 
 "Had she a chauffeur?" 
 
 "Yes, a Frenchman of the name of Moins whom we 
 picked up in Paris." 
 
 "I suppose you have communicated with the police?" 
 
 "No; you see the whole affair must be kept as dark 
 as possible."
 
 ABOUNDS IN SENSATION 47 
 
 "They are certainly the people to help you, particu- 
 larly if you have reason to suspect foul play." 
 
 "There is every reason to suspect it. I am afraid 
 she is already beyond the help of the police." 
 
 "Why should you think that?" 
 
 Fitz hesitated. His distraught air was very painful. 
 
 "Arbuthnot," said he, slowly and reluctantly, "be- 
 fore I tell you everything I must pledge you to absolute 
 secrecy. Other lives, other interests, more important 
 than yours and mine are involved in this." 
 
 I gave the pledge, and in so doing was impressed by 
 a depth of responsibility in the manner of my visitor, 
 of which I should hardly have expected it to be capable. 
 
 "Did you see in the papers last evening, that there 
 had been an attempt on the life of the King of Illyria?" 
 
 "I read it in this morning's paper." 
 
 "It will surprise you to learn," said Fitz, striving for 
 a calmness he could not achieve, "that my wife is the 
 only child of Ferdinand XII, King of Illyria. She is 
 therefore, Crown Princess and Heiress Apparent to the 
 oldest monarchy in Europe." 
 
 "It certainly does surprise me," was the only re- 
 joinder that for the moment I could make. 
 
 "I want help and I want advice; I feel that I hardly 
 dare do anything on my own initiative. You see it is 
 most important that the world at large should know 
 nothing of this." 
 
 "Why, may I ask?" 
 
 "There are two parties at war in Illyria. There is 
 the King's party, the supporters of the monarchy, and 
 there is the Republican party, which has made three
 
 48 MRS. FITZ 
 
 attempts on the life of Ferdinand XII and two on that 
 of his daughter." 
 
 "But I assume, my dear fellow, that the whereabouts 
 in England of the Crown Princess are known to her 
 father the King?" 
 
 "No; and it is essential that he should remain in 
 ignorance. Our elopement from Illyria was touch and 
 go. Ferdinand has moved heaven and earth to find 
 out where she is, because she has been formally be- 
 trothed to a Russian Grand Duke, and if she does 
 not return to Blaenau he will not be able to secure the 
 succession." 
 
 "Depend upon it," said I, "the Crown Princess is 
 on the way to Blaenau. Not of her own free will of 
 course. But his Majesty's agents have managed to 
 play the trick." 
 
 "You may be right, Arbuthnot. But one thing is 
 certain; my poor brave Sonia will never return to 
 Blaenau alive." 
 
 Fitz buried his face in his hands tragically. 
 
 "She promised that, you know, in case anything of 
 this kind happened, and I consented to it." The sim- 
 plicity of his utterance had in it a certain grandeur 
 which few would have expected to find in a man with 
 the reputation of Nevil Fitzwaren. "Everybody doesn't 
 believe in this sort of thing, Arbuthnot, but I and my 
 princess do. She will never lie in the arms of another. 
 God help her, brave and noble and unlucky soul !" 
 
 This was not the Fitz the world had always known. 
 I suddenly recalled the flaxen-haired, odd, intense, some- 
 what twisted, wholly unhappy creature who had ren-
 
 ABOUNDS IN SENSATION 49 
 
 dered me willing service in our boyhood. I had always 
 enjoyed the reputation in our house at school that I 
 alone, and none other, could manage Fitz. I recalled 
 his passion for the "Morte d'Arthur," his angular 
 vehemence, his sombre docility. In those distant days 
 I had felt there was something in him ; and now in what 
 seemed curiously poignant circumstances there came the 
 fulfilment of the prophecy. 
 
 "Let us assume, my dear fellow," said I, making an 
 attempt to be of practical use in a situation of almost 
 ludicrous difficulty, "that it is not her father who has 
 abducted the Princess Sonia. Let us take it to be the 
 other side, the Republican party." 
 
 "It would still mean death; not by her own hand, 
 but by theirs. They twice attempted her life in 
 Blaenau." 
 
 "In any case, it is reasonably clear that not a mo- 
 ment is to be lost if we are to help her." 
 
 "I don't know what to do," said Fitz, "and that's 
 the truth." 
 
 I confessed that I too had no very clear idea of the 
 course of action. It occurred to me that the wisest 
 thing to be done was to take a third person into our 
 counsels. 
 
 "You ask my advice," said I; "it seems to me that 
 the best thing to do is to see if Coverdale will help us." 
 
 "That will mean publicity. At all costs I feel that 
 that must be avoided." 
 
 "Coverdale is a shrewd fellow. He will know what 
 to do ; he is a man you can trust ; and he will be able 
 to set the proper machinery in motion."
 
 50 MRS. FITZ 
 
 My insistence on the point, and Fitz's unwilling 
 recognition of the need for a desperate remedy, goaded 
 him into a half-hearted consent. In my own mind I 
 was persuaded of the value of Coverdale's advice, in 
 whatever it might consist. He was the head of the 
 police in our shire, and apart from a little external 
 pomposity, without which one is given to understand 
 it is hardly possible for a Chief Constable to play the 
 part, he was a shrewd and kindhearted fellow, who knew 
 a good deal about things in general. 
 
 Poor Fitz would listen to no suggestion of food. 
 Therefore I ordered the car round at once, and in- 
 cidentally informed the ruler of the household and the 
 expectant assembly by whom she was surrounded, that 
 Fitz and I had some private business to transact which 
 required our immediate presence in the city of Mid- 
 dleham. 
 
 "Odo," said she whose word is law, with a mien of 
 dark suspicion, "if Nevil Fitzwaren is persuading you 
 to lend him money, I forbid you to entertain the idea. 
 You are really so weak in such matters. You have 
 really no idea of the value of money." 
 
 "It will do you no good with your constituents 
 either," said Mary Catesby, "to be seen in Middleham 
 with Nevil Fitzwaren." 
 
 To these warning voices I turned deaf ears, and fled 
 from the room in a fashion so precipitate that it sug- 
 gested guilt. 
 
 No time was lost in setting forth. As we glided past 
 the front of the house, I at least was uncomfortably 
 conscious of a battery of hostile eyes in ambush behind
 
 ABOUNDS IN SENSATION 51 
 
 the window panes. There could be no doubt that every 
 detail of our going was duly marked. Heaven knew 
 what theories were being propounded! Yet whatever 
 shape they assumed I was sure that all the ingenuity 
 in the world would not hit the truth. No feat of pure 
 imagination was likely to disclose what the busi- 
 ness really was that had caused me to be identified in 
 this open and flagrant manner with the husband of the 
 luckless circus rider from Vienna.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 EXPERT OPINION 
 
 EVERY mile of the eight to Middleham, Fitz was as 
 gloomy as the grave. In spite of the confidence he had 
 been led to repose in my judgment, he seemed wholly 
 unable to extend it to that of Coverdale. He had a mor- 
 bid dread of the police and of the publicity that would 
 invest any dealings with them. The preservation of 
 his wife's incognito was undoubtedly a matter of para- 
 mount importance. 
 
 It was half -past twelve when we reached Middleham. 
 We were lucky enough to find Coverdale at his office 
 at the sessions hall. 
 
 "Well, what can I do for you?" said the Chief Con- 
 stable, heartily. 
 
 "You can do a great deal for us, Coverdale," said I. 
 "But the first thing we shall ask you to do is to forget 
 that you are an official. We come to you in your 
 capacity of a personal friend. In that capacity we 
 seek any advice you may feel able or disposed to give 
 us. But before we give you any information, we should 
 like to have your assurance that you will treat the 
 whole matter as being told to you in the strictest 
 secrecy." 
 
 Coverdale has as active a sense of humour as his
 
 EXPERT OPINION 53 
 
 exalted station allows him to sustain. There was some- 
 thing in my mode of address that seemed to appeal to it. 
 
 "I will promise that on one condition, Arbuthnot," 
 said he; "which is that you do not seek to involve me 
 in the compounding of a felony." 
 
 "Oh, no, no, no, no !" Fitz burst out. 
 
 Fitz's exclamation and his tragic face banished the 
 smile that lurked at the corners of Coverdale's lips. 
 
 I deemed it best that Fitz should retell the story of 
 his tragedy, and this he did. In the course of his nar- 
 rative the sweat ran down his face, his hands twitched 
 painfully, and his bloodshot eyes grew so wild that 
 neither Coverdale nor I cared to look at them. 
 
 Coverdale sat mute and grave at the conclusion of 
 Fitz's remarkable story. He had swung round in his 
 revolving chair to face us. His legs were crossed and 
 the tips of his fingers were placed together, after the 
 fashion that another celebrity in a branch of his calling 
 is said to affect. 
 
 "It's a queer story of yours, Fitzwaren," he said at 
 last. "But the world is full of 'em what?" 
 
 "Help me," said Fitz, piteously. His voice was that 
 of a drowning man. 
 
 "I think we shall be able to do that," said Coverdale. 
 He spoke in the soothing tones of a skilful surgeon. 
 
 "The first thing to know," said the Chief Constable, 
 "is the number of the car." 
 
 "G. Y. 70942 is the number." 
 
 Coverdale jotted it down pensively upon his blotting 
 pad. 
 
 "Have you a portrait of Mrs. Fitzwaren?" he asked.
 
 54 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "I have this," said Fitz. 
 
 In the most natural manner he flung open his over- 
 coat, pulled away his evening tie, tore open his collar 
 and produced from under the rumpled shirt front a 
 locket suspended by a fine gold chain round his neck. 
 It contained a miniature of the Princess, executed in 
 Paris. Both Coverdale and I examined it curiously, 
 but as we did so, I fear our minds had a single thought. 
 It was that Fitz was a little mad. 
 
 "Will you entrust it to me?" said Coverdale. 
 
 Fitz's indecision was pathetic. 
 
 "It's the only one I've got," he mumbled. "I don't 
 suppose I shall ever be able to get another. I ought 
 to have had a replica while I had the chance." 
 
 "I undertake to return it within three days," said 
 Coverdale, with a simple kindliness for which I hon- 
 oured him. 
 
 Fitz handed the locket to him impulsively. 
 
 "Of course take it, by all means," he said hurriedly. 
 "I know you will take care of it. Fact is, you know, 
 I'm a bit knocked over." 
 
 "Naturally, my dear fellow," said Coverdale. "So 
 should we all be. But I shall go up to town this after- 
 noon and have a talk with them at Scotland Yard." 
 
 "I was afraid that would have to happen. I wanted 
 it to be kept an absolute secret, you know." 
 
 "You can depend upon the Yard to be the soul of 
 discretion. It is not the first time they have been en- 
 trusted with the internal affairs of a reigning family. 
 If the Princess is still in this country and she is still
 
 EXPERT OPINION 55 
 
 alive, and there is no reason to think otherwise, I believe 
 we shall not have to wait long for news of her." 
 
 Coverdale spoke in a tone of calm reassurance, which 
 at least was eloquent of his tact and his knowledge of 
 men. Overwrought as Fitz was, it was not without its 
 effect upon him. 
 
 "Ought not the ports to be watched?" he said. 
 
 "I hardly think it will be necessary. But if Scotland 
 Yard thinks otherwise, they will be watched of course. 
 Whatever happens, Fitzwaren, you can be quite sure 
 that nothing will be left undone in our endeavour to find 
 out what has really happened to the lady we shall agree 
 to call Mrs. Fitzwaren. Further, you can depend upon 
 it that absolute discretion will be used." 
 
 We left Coverdale, imbued with a sense of gratitude 
 for his cordial optimism, and I think we both felt that 
 a peculiarly delicate business could not be in more com- 
 petent hands. He was a man of sound judgment and 
 infinite discretion. Throughout this singular interview 
 he had emerged as a shrewd, tactful and eminently kind- 
 hearted fellow. 
 
 As a result of this visit to the sessions hall at Mid- 
 dleham, poor Fitz allowed himself a little hope. He had 
 been duly impressed by the man of affairs who had 
 taken the case in hand. However, he was still by no 
 means himself. He was still in a strangely excited and 
 gloomy condition; and this was aggravated by his 
 friendlessness and the feeling that the hand of every 
 man was against him. 
 
 In the circumstances, I felt obliged to yield to his 
 expressed wish that I should accompany him to the
 
 56 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Grange. As the crow flies it is less than four miles 
 from my house. 
 
 The home of the Fitzwarens is a rambling, gloomy 
 and dilapidated place enough. An air pervades it of 
 having run to seed. Every Fitzwaren who has inhabited 
 it within living memory has been a gambler and a roue 
 in one form or another. The Fitzwarens are by long 
 odds the oldest family in our part of the world, and 
 by odds equally long their record is the most unfor- 
 tunate. Coming of a long line of ill-regulated lives, 
 the heavy bills drawn by his forbears upon posterity 
 seemed to have become payable in the person of the 
 unhappy Fitz. Doubtless it was not right that one 
 who in Mrs. Catesby's phrase was a married man, a 
 father of a family and a county member, should con- 
 stitute himself as the apologist of such a man as Fitz. 
 But in spite of his errors, I had never found it in my 
 heart to act towards him as so many of his neighbours 
 did not hesitate to do. The fact that he had fagged 
 for me at school and the knowledge that there was a 
 lovable, a pathetic and even a heroic side to one to whom 
 fate had been relentlessly cruel, made it impossible for 
 me to regard him as wholly outside the pale. 
 
 I can never forget our arrival at the Grange on this 
 piercing winter afternoon. My car belonged to that 
 earlier phase of motoring when the traveller was more 
 exposed to the British climate than modern science con- 
 siders necessary. The snow, at the beck of a terrible 
 north-easter, beat in our faces pitilessly. And when we 
 came half frozen into the house, we were met on its 
 threshold by a mite of four. She was the image of her
 
 EXPERT OPINION 57 
 
 mother, with the same skin of lustrous olive, the same 
 mass of raven hair and the same challenging black 
 eyes. In her hand was a mutilated doll. It was carried 
 upside down and it had been decapitated. 
 
 "I want my mama," she said with an air of authority 
 which was ludicrously like that of the circus-rider from 
 Vienna. "Have you brought my mama?" 
 
 "No, my pearl of price," said Fitz, swinging the mite 
 up to his snow-covered face, "but she will be here soon. 
 She has sent you this." 
 
 He kissed the small elf, who had all the disdain of 
 a princess and the witchery of a fairy. 
 
 "Who is dis ?" said she, pointing at me with her doll. 
 
 "Dis, my jewel of the east, is our kind friend Mr. 
 Arbuthnot. If you are very nice to him he will stay 
 to tea." 
 
 "Do you like my mama, Mistah 'Buthnot?" said the 
 latest scion of Europe's oldest dynasty, with a direct- 
 ness which was disconcerting from a person of four. 
 
 "Very much indeed," said I warmly. 
 
 "You can stay to tea, Mr. 'Buthnot. I like you vewy 
 much." 
 
 The prompt cordiality of the verdict was certainly 
 pleasant to a humble unit of a monarchical country. 
 The creature extended her tiny paw with a gesture so 
 superb that there was only one thing left for a courtier 
 to do. That was to kiss it. 
 
 The owner of the paw seemed to be much gratified 
 by this discreet action. 
 
 "I like you vewy much, Mistah 'Buthnot, I will tell 
 you my name."
 
 58 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Oh, do, please !" 
 
 "My name is Marie Sophia Louisa Waren Fitz- 
 waren." 
 
 "Phoebus, what a name!" 
 
 "And dis, Mistah 'Buthnot, is my guv'ness, Miss 
 Green. She is a tarn fool." 
 
 The lady thus designated had come unexpectedly 
 upon the scene. An estimable and bespectacled gentle- 
 woman of uncompromising mien, she gazed down upon 
 her charge with the gravest austerity. 
 
 "Marie Louisa, if I hear that phrase again you will 
 go to bed." 
 
 As Miss Green spoke, however, she gazed at me over 
 her spectacles in a humorously reflective fashion. 
 
 Marie Louisa shrugged her small shoulders disdain- 
 fully, and in a tone that, to say the least, was peremp- 
 tory, ordered the butler, who looked venerable enough 
 to be her great-grandfather, to bring the tea. The 
 conge that the venerable servitor performed upon re- 
 ceiving this order rendered it clear that upon a day he 
 had been a confidential retainer in the royal house of 
 Illyria. 
 
 "I am afraid, Miss Green," said I, tentatively, "that 
 your post is no sinecure." 
 
 "That mite of four has the imperious will of a 
 Catherine of Russia," said Miss Green, with an amused 
 smile. "If she ever attains the estate of womanhood, 
 I shudder to think what she will be." 
 
 Fitz entreated me to dine with him. I yielded in the 
 hope that a little company might help him to fight his 
 depression. The meal was not a cheerful one. Under
 
 EXPERT OPINION 59 
 
 the most favourable conditions Fitz is not a cheerful 
 individual ; but I was obliged to note that of late years 
 he had learned to exercise his will. In many ways I 
 thought he had changed for the better. He had lost 
 his coarseness of speech; he was scrupulously moderate 
 in what he ate and drank, and his bearing had gained 
 in reserve and dignity. In a word, he had grown into 
 a more civilised, a more developed being than I had 
 ever thought it possible for him to become. 
 
 It was past eleven when I returned to my own domain. 
 The blizzard still prevailed, and I found Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not in the drawing-room enthroned before a roaring 
 fire, which happily served as some mitigation of the 
 arctic demeanour with which my return was greeted. 
 This, in conjunction with the adverse elements through 
 which I had already passed, was enough to complete the 
 overthrow of the strongest constitution. 
 
 The ruler of Dympsfield House Dympsfield House 
 is the picturesque name conferred upon our ancestral 
 home by my grandfather, Mr. George Arbuthnot of 
 Messrs. Arbuthnot, Boyd and Co., the celebrated firm 
 of sugar refiners of Bristol the ruler of Dympsfield 
 House was ostensibly engaged in the study of a work 
 of fiction of pronounced sporting character, with a 
 yellow cover. Works of this nature and the provincial 
 edition of the Daily Courier, which is guaranteed to 
 have a circulation of ten million copies per diem, are 
 the only forms of literature that the ruler of Dymps- 
 field House considers it "healthy" to peruse. 
 
 When I entered the drawing-room with a free and 
 easy air which was designed to suggest that my con-
 
 60 MRS. FITZ 
 
 science had nothing to conceal and nothing to defend, 
 the wife of my bosom discarded her novel and fixed me 
 with that cool gaze which all who are born Vane- 
 Anstruther consider it to be the hallmark of their caste 
 to wield. 
 
 "Where have you been, Odo?" was the greeting that 
 was reserved for me. 
 
 "Dining with Fitz," said I, succinctly. 
 
 A short pause. 
 
 "What did you say?" 
 
 I repeated my modest statement. 
 
 A snort. 
 
 "Upon my word, Odo, I can't think '!" 
 
 It called for a nice judgment to know which opening 
 to play. 
 
 "Fitz is in trouble," said I. 
 
 "Is that very surprising?" 
 
 It is difficult to render the true Vane-Anstruther 
 vocal inflections in terms of literary art. A similar 
 problem is presented by the unwavering glint of the 
 china blue eye and the subtle curl of the lip. 
 
 "In the sense you wish to convey, mon enfant, it is 
 surprising. Fitz is one of the poor devils who are by 
 no means so black as they are painted." 
 
 A toss of the head. 
 
 "Don't forget that I have known Fitz all his life; 
 that we were at school together; and that one way and 
 another, I have seen a good deal of him." 
 
 "I wouldn't boast about it, if I were you. The man 
 is a byeword ; you know that. It is not kind to me." 
 
 I was in mortal fear of tears. That dread accessory
 
 EXPERT OPINION 61 
 
 of conjugal life is permitted by the Code De Vere Vane- 
 Anstruther in certain situations. However, although 
 the weather was very heavy, for the time being, that 
 was spared me, and I breathed more freely. 
 
 Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther, who had 
 a cigarette between his lips, and was lying full length 
 upon a chintz that was charmingly devised in blue and 
 yellow, inquired whether I had mentioned to Fitz the 
 subject of a meeting with the outraged Brasset. 
 
 "If the weather don't pick up," said this Corinthian, 
 "we shall go up to town to-morrow, and my pal in 
 Jermyn Street will put Brasset through his facings. 
 With a bit of practice Brasset ought to be able to give 
 Fitz his gruel." 
 
 "I fail to see," said I, "why the unfortunate husband 
 should be brought to book for the sins of the wife." 
 
 "If you take to yourself a wife," said my relation 
 by marriage, with a didacticism of which he is seldom 
 guilty, "it is for better or for worse; and if your 
 missus overrides the best 'ound in the pack and then 
 'its the master over the head with her crop because he 
 tells her what he thinks of her, you are looking both 
 ways for trouble." 
 
 "It is a hard doctrine," said I. 
 
 "If a chap is such a fool as to marry, he must stand 
 to the consequences." 
 
 "He must !" 
 
 Such a prompt corroboration of the young fellow's 
 reasoning can only be described as sinister. A flash 
 of the china blue eyes came from the vicinity of the 
 hearth rug.
 
 62 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "How did Mrs. Fitz bear herself at the dinner 
 table?" inquired the sharer of my joys. "Did she eat 
 with her knife and drink out of the finger bowls?" 
 
 "No, mon enfant, I am compelled to say that she 
 did not." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot frowned a becoming incredulity. 
 
 "You surprise one." 
 
 "Perhaps it is not altogether remarkable." 
 
 "A matter of opinion, surely." 
 
 "Personally, I prefer to regard it as a matter of 
 fact. You see, Mrs. Fitz was not at the dinner table." 
 
 "Where was she, may I ask?" 
 
 "She had gone up to town." 
 
 "And was that why her husband was so upset?" 
 
 "There is reason to believe that it was." 
 
 "Oh!" 
 
 There was great virtue in that exclamation. My 
 amiable coadjutor, as I knew perfectly well, was burn- 
 ing to pursue her inquiries, but her status as a human 
 being did not permit her to proceed farther. There are 
 many advantages incident to the proud condition of a 
 De Vere Vane-Anstruther, but that almost inhuman 
 eminence has its drawbacks also. Chief among them 
 are the limits imposed upon a perfectly natural and 
 healthy curiosity. It is not seemly for a member of 
 that distinguished clan to enter too exhaustively into 
 the affairs of her neighbours. 
 
 On the following morning, in spite of the behaviour 
 of the weather, we were favoured by an early visit from 
 Mrs. Catesby. She was in high feather. 
 
 "You have heard the news, of course !" she proclaimed
 
 EXPERT OPINION 63 
 
 for the benefit of Mrs. Arbuthnot and with an expan- 
 sion of manner that she does not always permit herself. 
 "Of course Odo has told you what brought Nevil Fitz- 
 waren here yesterday morning." 
 
 "Oh no, he hasn't," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, rather 
 aggrievedly. 
 
 "Is it conceivable, my dear child, that you have not 
 heard the news?" 
 
 "I only know, Mary, that Nevil Fitzwaren is in trou- 
 ble. Odo did not think well to supply the details, and 
 really the affairs of the Fitzwarens interest one so little 
 that one did not feel inclined to inquire." 
 
 "The creature has bolted, my dear." 
 
 In spite of Mrs. Arbuthnot's determination to take 
 no interest in the affairs of the Fitzwarens, she was not 
 proof against this melodramatic announcement. 
 
 "Bolted, Mary!" 
 
 "Bolted, child. And with whom do you suppose?" 
 
 "One would say with the chauffeur," hazarded Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot promptly. 
 
 Mrs. Catesby's countenance fell. She made no 
 attempt to dissemble her disappointment. 
 
 "Then Odo has told you after all." 
 
 "Not a syllable, I assure you, Mary. But I am cer- 
 tain that if Mrs. Fitz has bolted with anybody, it must 
 have been with the chauffeur." 
 
 "How clever of you, my dear child !" The Great 
 Lady's admiration was open and sincere. "Such a right 
 feeling about things ! She has certainly bolted with the 
 chauffeur."
 
 64, MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Odo," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, triumphant yet im- 
 perious, "why didn't you tell me all this?" 
 
 "Mon enfant," said I in the mellowest tones of which 
 I am master, "you gave me clearly to understand that 
 the affairs of the Fitzwarens had no possible interest 
 for you." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot went to the length of biting her lip. 
 By withholding such a sensational bit of news, I had 
 been guilty of an unheard-of outrage upon human 
 nature. But she could not deny my plea of justifica- 
 tion. 
 
 "Nevil Fitzwaren is far luckier than he deserves to 
 be," said the Great Lady. "It is a merciful dispensa- 
 tion that dear Evelyn did not actually call upon her. 
 I feel sure she would have done, had I not implored 
 her not to be hasty." 
 
 "But, Mary, I was under the impression that you 
 called upon her yourself." 
 
 "So I did, Odo. But that was merely out of respect 
 for the memory of Nevil's mother. Besides, it was only 
 right that somebody should see what her home was 
 like." 
 
 "What was it like, Mary?" said I. 
 
 Mrs. Catesby compressed her lips. 
 
 "I ask you, Mary. You alone sacrificed yourself 
 upon the altar of public decency ; you alone are in pos- 
 session of the grim facts." 
 
 "Let us be charitable, my dear Odo. After all, what 
 can one expect of a person from a continental circus?" 
 
 "What indeed!" was my pious objuration. 
 
 "There is only one thing, I fear, for Nevil to do
 
 EXPERT OPINION 65 
 
 now," said the Great Lady. "He must get a divorce 
 and marry his cook." 
 
 The august matron denied us the honour of her 
 company at luncheon. She was due at the Vicarage. 
 And there was reason to believe that she would drink 
 tea at the Priory and dine at the Castle. It was so 
 necessary that the joyful tidings of the Divine justice 
 that had overtaken the wicked should be spread abroad.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 COVERDALE'S REPORT 
 
 IN the afternoon I rode over to the Grange to learn 
 if there was any news and to see how Fitz was bearing 
 up. He was certainly doing uncommonly well. His 
 face was less haggard, his eyes were not so wild, while 
 a change of linen and a razor had helped his appearance 
 considerably. 
 
 Coverdale had telegraphed to say that the car had 
 been traced to a garage in Regent Street, and that 
 before long he hoped to be in possession of further 
 information. 
 
 Fitz seemed to regard the finding of the car as a 
 favourable omen. At least his emotions were under 
 far better control than on the previous day. His man- 
 ner was no longer overwrought, and he was able to 
 take a more practical view of the situation. 
 
 He promised to keep me informed of any fresh devel- 
 opment ; and I left him without misgiving. He seemed 
 much more fit to cope with events than when I had left 
 him the night before. 
 
 It was in the afternoon of the following day that I 
 saw Fitz again. It happened that I was just about to 
 set out from my own door when he drove up in a dog- 
 cart. He was accompanied by Coverdale. 
 
 66
 
 COVERDALE'S REPORT 67 
 
 Fitz has a curiously mobile countenance. It is quick 
 to advertise the fleeting emotions of its owner. This 
 afternoon there was a light in his eye and a look of 
 resolution and alertness about him which said that news 
 had come, and that whatever its nature, Nevil Fitzwaren 
 was not prepared to submit tamely to fate. 
 
 "I was on the point of coming to see you," I explained 
 as I led them in. 
 
 The presence of Coverdale seemed to indicate an im- 
 portant development. It would have been difficult, how- 
 ever, to deduce so much from the bearing of the Chief 
 Constable. He is such a discreet and sagacious indi- 
 vidual, that no amount of special information is capable 
 of detracting from or adding to his habitual air of 
 composed importance. 
 
 My visitors were supplied with a little sustenance in 
 a liquid form before I asked for the news ; and then in 
 answer to my demand Fitz called upon Coverdale to 
 put me au fait with the latest information. 
 
 It appeared that Coverdale had hastened to take 
 Scotland Yard into his confidence, and that that famous 
 organisation had been able in a surprisingly short space 
 of time to shed a light upon the mysterious disappear- 
 ance of Mrs. Fitz. 
 
 "She has been traced to the Elyrian Embassy in 
 Portland Place," said Coverdale. 
 
 "Indeed !" said I. "In that case we can congratulate 
 you, Fitz, that she is likely to come by no harm in that 
 dignified seclusion." 
 
 "Yes, that aspect of the affair is decidedly favour- 
 able," said Coverdale. "But as far as the Commissioner
 
 68 MRS. FITZ 
 
 is able to learn, the lady is to all intents and purposes 
 being held a close prisoner." 
 
 "A very singular state of things, surely." 
 
 "Decidedly singular. But there can be no doubt that 
 the Illyrian Ambassador is acting upon strict instruc- 
 tions from his Sovereign." 
 
 "He must be a pretty cool hand, to kidnap the wife 
 of an Englishman in this country in the broad light of 
 day, and the monarch for whom he acts strikes one also 
 as being a pretty cool customer." 
 
 Coverdale laughed. He knocked the ash off the end 
 of his cigar with an air of reflective enjoyment. 
 
 "Kings are kings in Illyria," said he. "Saving the 
 presence of the son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth, 
 his Majesty is no believer in this damned constitutional 
 nonsense. He has his own ideas and his own little way 
 of carrying them out." 
 
 "He has, apparently. But unfortunately for Fer- 
 dinand the Twelfth and fortunately for his son-in-law, 
 Fitz, we in this country are rather decided believers in 
 this damned constitutional nonsense. I daresay, Cover- 
 dale, your friend the Commissioner will be able to put 
 his Illyrian Majesty right upon the point." 
 
 The stealthy air of enjoyment that was hovering 
 about Coverdale's rubicund visage seemed to deepen. 
 
 "You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he said, with a 
 cheerful puff, "but it seems it is not quite so easy as 
 you'd suppose." 
 
 I confessed to surprise. 
 
 "You see, Arbuthnot, even in a country like ours, 
 kings are entitled to a measure of respect. The reign-
 
 COVERDALE'S REPORT 69 
 
 ing family of Illyria under the favour of our dis- 
 tinguished friend " the Chief Constable bowed to 
 Fitz with a solemn unction that to my mind was inde- 
 scribably comic, "has ties of blood with nearly all the 
 royal houses of Europe; the Illyrian Embassy is by 
 no means a negligible quantity at the Court of Saint 
 James, for if Illyria is not very large it is devilish well 
 connected; and again, as the Commissioner assures me, 
 an embassy is sacred earth which lies outside his juris- 
 diction." 
 
 "He seems to have come up against rather a tough 
 proposition." 
 
 "He is the first to admit it. Here we have a flagrant 
 outrage committed upon the personal property of a 
 law-abiding Englishman, under his own vine and fig- 
 tree, in his own little country; the perpetrators of the 
 outrage sit unconcerned in Portland Place ; yet there 
 seems to be no machinery in this admirably governed 
 and highly constitutional island which can redress this 
 flagrant hardship." 
 
 "But surely, Coverdale, a way can be found?" 
 
 "The Commissioner declined point-blank to under- 
 take anything on his own responsibility. Accordingly 
 we went to the Foreign Office and had an interview with 
 an Official. The Official didn't seem to know what the 
 practice of the Office was in such cases, for the simple 
 reason that it was the first time that the Office appeared 
 to have acquired any practice in them. But upon one 
 point he was perfectly clear. It was that the Commis- 
 sioner would do well to return without delay to his 
 fingermarks and his photographs of notorious criminals,
 
 70 MRS. FITZ 
 
 and contrive to forget that 'L'Affaire Fitz' had been 
 brought to his notice." 
 
 "But that is absurd." 
 
 "That is how the matter stands at all events," said 
 Coverdale with an air of detachment. 
 
 "Did the Official confer with the Minister?" 
 
 "Yes; and the Minister conferred with the Official; 
 and their joint wisdom amounted to this: if a British 
 subject indulges in the luxury of a Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth for a father-in-law, he must refer to God any 
 little differences that may arise between them, because 
 the law of England does not contemplate and declines 
 to take cognisance of these domesticities." 
 
 "It is incredible!" 
 
 "I agree with you, Arbuthnot ; and yet if you look 
 at the matter in all its bearings, it is difficult to see 
 what other conclusion could have been arrived at. The 
 whole affair bristles with difficulties. There is no 
 specific evidence that the Crown Princess of Illyria is 
 actually in need of aid. Although many of the details 
 of her flight from Blaenau five years ago are known 
 to the Foreign Office, it is in complete ignorance of 
 the fact that she was in residence in this country. And 
 again the whole thing is far too delicate to risk a fall 
 with the Illyrian Ambassador." 
 
 "Certainly the national horror of looking foolish 
 appears to justify the F.O. in the role of Agag. But 
 in my humble judgment its masterly inactivity is des- 
 perately hard on a British subject." 
 
 "Well," said Coverdale, having recourse to the plain
 
 COVERDALE'S REPORT 71 
 
 man's philosophy, "if a British subject will indulge in 
 a Ferdinand the Twelfth for a father-in-law !" 
 
 During our extremely piquant discussion to me it 
 was certainly that, however tame and flat it may appear 
 in the bald prose in which it is now invested the person 
 most affected by it was a study in sombre self-repres- 
 sion. He spoke not a word, he hardly indulged in a 
 gesture; yet his whole bearing had significance. And 
 when at last the time came for him to speak, he used 
 a quiet deliberation as though every word had been 
 sought out and weighed beforehand. 
 
 "There is only one thing to be done," he said. "As 
 the law won't help me, I must help the law." 
 
 Not only in its substance, but also in the manner 
 of its delivery, such an announcement was entirely 
 worthy of the son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth. 
 
 I saw the rather amused uplift of Coverdale's eye- 
 brows, but knowing the unusual calibre of the speaker, 
 I felt instinctively that at this stage a display of scep- 
 ticism would be out of place. Fitz was quite capable of 
 helping the law of England, if he really felt that it 
 required his assistance. 
 
 "I can't thank you, Coverdale," he said simply. 
 "You have done for me what I can't repay. This ap- 
 plies to you also, Arbuthnot. I shall never forget what 
 you've done for me. But now I am going to ask you 
 both as fellow Englishmen, with wives and children of 
 your own, to stand by me while I try to get fair play." 
 
 Such words affected us both. 
 
 "You can certainly count upon me for what I may 
 be worth," said I, "but frankly, my dear fellow, I fail
 
 72 MRS. FITZ 
 
 to see what you can do in face of the Foreign Office 
 decree." 
 
 "I shall play Ferdinand at his own game and beat 
 him at it. as I've done before to-day." 
 
 It was a vaunt that Fitz was entitled to make. The 
 elopement from Blaenau must have been the work of 
 a bold and resourceful man. 
 
 "Of one thing I am convinced," Fitz proceeded; 
 "there is not an hour to lose. My wife may be taken 
 back to Blaenau at any moment. I am confident that 
 von Arlenberg, the Ambassador, has orders from Fer- 
 dinand. If I am to save the life of Sonia, I must act 
 without delay." 
 
 Coverdale nodded his head in silence, while I felt a 
 pang of dismay. The argument was clear enough, but 
 Fitz's impotence in the presence of events made him a 
 figure for pity. 
 
 His demeanour, however, betrayed no consciousness 
 of this. In those strange eyes there was a purpose, and 
 something had entered his voice. 
 
 "I want half a dozen good fellows sportsmen to 
 stand by me. You are one, Arbuthnot. You too, Cov- 
 erdale. You will stand by me, eh ?" 
 
 The Chief Constable looked a little uneasy. To the 
 official mind such a request was decidedly ambiguous, 
 not to say uncomfortable. 
 
 "I should be glad, Fitzwaren," said he, "if you will 
 tell me precisely what responsibilities I shall incur if I 
 pledge myself to this course." 
 
 "It depends on circumstances," said Fitz. "But if 
 I find my back to the wall, as I daresay I shall before
 
 COVERDALE'S REPORT 73 
 
 I am through with this business, I should like to have 
 at my elbow a few men I can trust." 
 
 "So long as you don't depute me to throw a bomb 
 into the Embassy !" said Coverdale. 
 
 Fitz's scheme for the recovery of his lawful property 
 was not so drastic as that, yet wjien it came to be un- 
 folded, it was somewhat of a nature to give pause to 
 a pair of Englishmen converging upon middle age, 
 pledged especially to observe the law. 
 
 "I intend to have her out of Portland Place. She 
 must come away to-morrow. There is not an hour to 
 lose. But I must find a few pals who are good at need, 
 because it won't be child's play, you know." 
 
 "It certainly won't be child's play," agreed the Chief 
 Constable, "if it is your intention to break into the 
 Illyrian Embassy and seize the Crown Princess by 
 force." 
 
 "There is no help for it," said Fitz quietly. 
 
 Coverdale grew thoughtful. It was tolerably clear 
 that Fitz was contemplating an act of open violence; 
 and as a breach of the peace must at all times be con- 
 strued as a breach of the law, it was scarcely for him 
 to aid and abet him. At heart, nevertheless, the worthy 
 Chief Constable was a downright, honest, foursquare, 
 genuine fellow. He did not say as much, but there was 
 something in his manner which implied that he had come 
 to the conclusion that those repositories of justice, 
 national and international, Scotland Yard and the 
 Foreign Office, were conniving at a frank injustice to 
 a fellow Briton. 
 
 "It is a hard case," said Coverdale; "and in the cir-
 
 74 MRS. FITZ 
 
 cumstances I don't altogether see how you can be blamed 
 if you take reasonable steps to recover your property." 
 
 "In other words, Coverdale," said I, "you are pre- 
 pared to countenance the raid on the Illyrian Em- 
 bassy?" 
 
 The Chief Constable laughed. 
 
 "I don't say that exactly. And yet, after all, this 
 is a free country ; and if a parcel of damned foreigners 
 bagged my wife, and the law could afford me no redress, 
 I'm afraid, I'm sadly afraid " 
 
 "It would be 'Up Guards and at 'em'?" 
 
 "Upon my word, Arbuthnot, I'm not sure it 
 wouldn't." 
 
 "Thank you, Coverdale," said Fitz. "And I take it 
 that both of you will go up to London with me to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "What do you ask us precisely to do?" 
 
 "Leave the details to me" Fitz's air was that of a 
 staff officer. "You can trust me not to go out of my 
 way to look for trouble. But it is not much use for one 
 man singlehanded to attempt to force his way into the 
 Illyrian Embassy for the purpose of effecting the rescue 
 of the Crown Princess." 
 
 "It would be suicidal for one man to attempt it," 
 we agreed. 
 
 "What is the minimum of assistance you will re- 
 quire?" said I. 
 
 "Half a dozen stout fellows ought to be able to man- 
 age it comfortably. There's Coverdale and you and 
 me. If I can enlist three others between now and 
 to-morrow, the thing is as good as done."
 
 COVERDALE'S REPORT 75 
 
 Fitz's calm tone of optimism was certainly surpris- 
 ing. The Chief Constable and myself exchanged rather 
 rueful glances. We appeared to have pledged our- 
 selves to a course of action that might have the most 
 serious and far-reaching consequences.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR THE CAMPAIGN 
 
 ONE thing was perfectly clear ; we were pretty well 
 in a cleft stick. So heartily had we espoused the cause 
 of .a much injured man, that to withhold practical 
 assistance, now it was needed so sorely, was hardly 
 possible. Yet there could be no doubt that discomfiture 
 and perplexity were beginning to play the deuce with 
 the Chief Constable's official placidity. I also, "a mar- 
 ried man, a father of a family and a county member," 
 began to have qualms. 
 
 "Three other stout fellows," said Fitz, "who are not 
 afraid of a tight place and who can be trusted with a 
 revolver are almost a necessity. The trouble is to find 
 them." 
 
 On many occasions since, I have had cause to review 
 my conduct in this crisis. Whether it was that of a 
 sane, judicial-minded, law-abiding unit of society I 
 have never been able to determine. Doubtless I erred 
 egregiously. All the same I shall always protest that 
 Nevil Fitzwaren was a much injured man. Moreover, 
 now that the call to arms had come to him, nature had 
 thought fit to invest him with that occult power that 
 makes a man a leader of others. I could not have 
 believed such a transfiguration to be possible. He 
 
 76
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR CAMPAIGN 77 
 
 seemed suddenly to emerge as the possessor of a stead- 
 fastness of purpose and a strength of will which com- 
 manded sympathy in almost the same measure that his 
 pathetic helplessness had in the first place aroused it. 
 
 "Can you suggest three stout fellows, Arbuthnot? 
 Gentlemen, if possible, and chaps to be trusted. Of 
 course they will have to know the why and wherefore 
 of it all." 
 
 Under the spell that Fitz was wielding over me I 
 became the victim of an inspiration. In a flash there 
 came into my mind the three gamesters necessary to 
 complete the partie. They were Jodey, his friend in 
 Jermyn Street, "who had had lessons from Burns," and 
 that much enduring but thoroughly sound-hearted fel- 
 low, the Master of the Crackanthorpe. For an instant 
 I reflected with the Napoleonic gaze of Fitz upon me. 
 And then through sheer human weakness I committed 
 the most signal indiscretion of which a tolerably blame- 
 less existence had ever been guilty. I permitted the 
 names of these three champions to cross my lips. 
 
 Coverdale turned his sombre eyes upon me. They 
 were devoid of anger, but extremely full of sorrow. 
 
 "You old fool!" he said under his breath. "You 
 look like landing us fairly." 
 
 "Well," whispered the egregious I, "we can't leave 
 the poor chap in the lurch at this stage of the proceed- 
 ings, can we?" 
 
 "I suppose not ; but this business looks like costing 
 me my billet. Let us pray God he don't intend to shoot 
 the Ambassador." 
 
 "Not he," said I, assuming a cheerfulness I did not
 
 78 MRS. FITZ 
 
 feel, in the hope of minimising my lapse from the strait 
 way of prudence. "He is a very sensible fellow and 
 a devilish plucky one." 
 
 The immediate result of my indiscretion was that I 
 was urged to summon my relation by marriage, in order 
 that his valuable services might be enlisted. With that 
 end in view, Parkins was sent in search of him. He 
 returned all too soon with the information that he was 
 over at the Hall playing billiards with Lord Br asset. 
 
 "Two birds with one stone !" said Fitz exultantly. 
 "The best thing we can do is to go over and see them." 
 
 The Hall is not more than a hundred yards or so 
 from our modest demesne; and at Fitz's behest we set 
 forth in quest of recruits. 
 
 "Nice state o' things !" growled Coverdale en route. 
 
 In due course we were ushered into Brasset's billiard 
 room. The owner thereof and my relation by marriage 
 were engaged in a friendly but one-sided game of shil- 
 ling snooker. The latter, in accordance with his in- 
 variable practice of "putting his best leg first" to atone 
 for the lifelong handicap of having been born a younger 
 son, was potting three times the number of balls of 
 his charmingly amiable and courteous opponent. 
 
 "Hullo, you fellows," said Brasset. "Take a cue and 
 join us." 
 
 The presence in that place of the husband of Mrs. 
 Fitz was wholly unlooked-for, but neither of the players 
 betrayed their surprise. Any surprise they had to dis- 
 play was duly forthcoming later. 
 
 Most people who have mixed at all with their fellows 
 are more or less finished dissemblers. But Brasset and
 
 79 
 
 Jodey were by no means proof against the extraordi- 
 nary tale that Fitz had come to unfold. 
 
 "Heiress to oldest reigning family in Europe!" ex- 
 claimed Brasset, whose perturbation and bewilderment 
 were comic in the extreme. "In that case she had an 
 absolute right to hit me over the head with her crop, 
 even if she did go rather far in overriding Challenger." 
 
 As for Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther, his 
 countenance was a study. 
 
 "Well, I always said she was it," he murmured rap- 
 turously. 
 
 "Stand by you ra.-ther!" said Brasset. "Only too 
 proud. I've got a beautiful Colt revolver in my bureau. 
 Shot a lion with it in Africa." 
 
 "Then you ought to be able to manage an ambas- 
 sador in Portland Place," said I. 
 
 "It's a go then?" said Fitz. "I can count on you 
 fellows to give me a hand. We may have to put it 
 across that swine von Arlenberg, although of course he 
 is merely obeying the orders of Ferdinand." 
 
 "Yes, of course." 
 
 The two recruits to the cause of the Crown Princess 
 beamed joyfully. They took the oath of fealty, which 
 merely assumed the form of promising to dine at Ward's 
 before the event, and promising to sup at the Savoy 
 after it. 
 
 The sixth person essential to the success of Fitz's 
 scheme was the unknown sportsman of Jermyn Street, 
 who had had lessons from Burns. Jodey was emphatic 
 in his declaration that his friend, whom he proclaimed
 
 80 MRS. FITZ 
 
 as "the amateur middle weight champion of the United 
 Kingdom," would be only too eager to seize one of the 
 great opportunities of his life. A telegram was imme- 
 diately concocted for this paladin, who was urged to 
 turn up at Ward's on the morrow at the appointed hour. 
 "Bring a revolver with you. There will be a bit of fun 
 going after dinner," was the clause that the author of 
 the telegram was keenly desirous to insert. 
 
 Opinion was divided as to the wisdom of inserting 
 the clause in question. To the shrewd and cautious 
 official mind, as represented by Coverdale, it would be 
 sufficient to urge a sensible and law-abiding citizen to 
 give the proposed dinner party a wide berth. Person- 
 ally, I was of Coverdale's opinion; Fitz and Brasset 
 "saw nothing out of the way in it," while its author was 
 convinced that so little would the clause in question be 
 likely to deter his friend O'Mulligan, that it would 
 invest a commonplace invitation to dine at Ward's and 
 sup at the Savoy with a sufficient spice of romance to 
 preclude "the best sportsman that ever came out of 
 Ireland" from having a previous engagement. 
 
 Youth will be served. Jodey's lucid argument car- 
 ried weight enough for the telegram to be sent to 
 Jermyn Street in all its pristine integrity. Coverdale 
 looked rueful all the same, and I felt his gaze of grave 
 reproach upon me. The leader of the enterprise, how- 
 ever, was far from sharing the misgivings of the Chief 
 Constable. On the contrary, he felt that the cause of 
 the Princess Sonia had gained three valuable recruits. 
 
 Certainly, the demeanour of Brasset and of my rela- 
 tion by marriage left nothing to be desired from the
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR CAMPAIGN 81 
 
 point of view of whole-heartedness. They were only 
 too eager to embrace the opportunity of redressing a 
 notorious wrong. Coverdale and I could by no means 
 rise to their enthusiasm. We were both over forty, and 
 at that time of life the average man cannot evoke that 
 quality, unless it is in the pursuit of a peerage, but in 
 our innermost hearts we were fain to feel that it did 
 them honour. 
 
 To Brasset's suggestion that we should dine with him 
 that evening, in order that we might evolve, as far as 
 in us lay, a plan of campaign, we yielded a ready re- 
 sponse. Incidentally, it may be well to state that Bras- 
 set is unmarried, and that his mother was spending the 
 winter at San Remo. 
 
 It was in sore travail of the spirit that I walked back 
 to Dympsfield House, and proceeded to hunt for the 
 weapon which was kept in my dressing-room as a pre- 
 caution against burglars. Ruefully it was taken from 
 its sanctuary and examined. Then I went in search of 
 the ruler of the household. Having found her potter- 
 ing about the greenhouse, I broke the news that I was 
 dining out that evening, and that on the morrow duty 
 called me to the metropolis, because I feared that my 
 aged grandmother's chronic bronchitis had taken a turn 
 for the worse. 
 
 Both these announcements were accepted with more 
 serenity than the inward monitor had led me to antici- 
 pate. 
 
 "By all means dine with Reggie Br asset, although I 
 think it is very wrong of him not to ask me. And by 
 all means go to London to-morrow to see poor dear
 
 82 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Gran, and" here it was that the first small fly was 
 disclosed in the ointment "take me. Now that the 
 weather has gone all to pieces, it is a good time to see 
 the new plays ; and I must have at least two new frocks 
 and one of those chinchilla coats that everybody is 
 wearing." 
 
 There are occasions when the most reciprocal nature 
 may regard marriage as an overrated institution. 
 
 "But, my dear child," I gasped, "did you not promise 
 upon your sacred word of honour that if you had that 
 mare at the beginning of November, you would not 
 want to exceed your dress allowance before the sum- 
 mer?" 
 
 "Did I?" said a voice of bland inquiry. 
 
 "Did you, mon enfant!" 
 
 "But then you see the poor thing has been lame for 
 quite a fortnight." 
 
 It was man's work to convince Mrs. Arbuthnot, deli- 
 cately, tenderly, but quite firmly, that not for a moment 
 could her demands be entertained. How in the end it 
 was contrived I shall not attempt to explain. Who 
 among us is competent to render these hearthrug 
 diplomacies in a just notation? But by some occult 
 means I was able to effect a compromise upon terms 
 which only a sanguine temperament could have hoped 
 for. I was to be permitted to dine with Brasset and 
 play a quiet rubber of bridge, and on the morrow I was 
 to go to town to spend the week end with my grand- 
 mother; in consideration of which benefits, the second 
 party to the contract was to spend the week end with 
 her admirable parents at Doughty Bridge, Yorks., and
 
 83 
 
 become the recipient of a sable stole and an oxydised 
 silver muff chain. 
 
 I could not help feeling that such a compact was 
 extremely honourable to the political side of my nature. 
 I had been prepared for pearl earrings or a new opera 
 cloak at the least. There can be little doubt that toler- 
 ably regular attendance at the House of Commons dur- 
 ing the course of three sessions does not a little to equip 
 a man for the more complex phases of civilised life. 
 
 Brasset's impromptu dinner party that evening was 
 a decided success. For this happy result he was not a 
 little indebted to the foresight of his amiable and ever- 
 lamented father. The wine was excellent. Even the 
 Chief Constable, who looked as sombre as a cardinal 
 and as rueful as Don Quixote, swallowed the brown 
 sherry with approbation, toyed with the lighter vint- 
 ages, sipped the port wine with sage approval, admired 
 the old brandy and told one of the best stories I have 
 ever heard in my life. 
 
 At the conclusion of this masterpiece of refined 
 ribaldry, Brasset gave a peremptory little rap on the 
 table and rose to his feet. 
 
 "Gentlemen," said he, "I ask you to drink the health 
 of the Crown Princess of Illyria. May God defend 
 the right! With the toast, I beg to be allowed to 
 couple the name of our friend and neighbour, Mr. Nevil 
 Fitzwaren." 
 
 The toast was honoured in due form. 
 
 "Thank you, gentlemen," Fitz's reply was made with 
 touching simplicity. "God will ever defend the right. 
 He always does. But I thank you all from the bottom
 
 84 MRS. FITZ 
 
 of my heart for standing by me to see that I get fair 
 play. It's good to be born an Englishman." 
 
 "Hear, hear; quite so," said the Chief Constable. 
 
 Out of the corner of one rueful eye, however, the 
 head of our constabulary favoured me with a glance 
 that was at once whimsical and lugubrious. The 
 thought was ever-present in that official breast that the 
 slightest hitch in a decidedly precarious adventure 
 would be fraught for all concerned in it with conse- 
 quences which he did not care to contemplate.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 ON THE EVE 
 
 A CALM inquiry into the case rendered it inconceiv- 
 able that two pillars of the Constitution should commit 
 themselves irrevocably to a scheme of action whose true 
 sphere was the boards of a playhouse or the pages of 
 a lurid romance. By what lapse of the reason had they 
 permitted themselves to drift into a position so ludicrous 
 yet so eminently dangerous? Possibly it was right 
 for irresponsible youth ; possibly it was right for men 
 of temperament like the heroic Fitz ; but for Lieutenant 
 Colonel John Chalmers Coverdale, C.M.G., late of His 
 Majesty's Carabineers, and Odo Arbuthnot, Member of 
 Parliament for the Uppingdon Division of Middleshire, 
 it was confessedly an egregious folly. 
 
 We were both past the age when such a scheme would 
 have appealed to our high spirits as a superior sort of 
 "rag." Once embarked upon it, who should say whither 
 it might lead? It was impossible to foretell the course 
 of such an adventure. Two such devotees of law and 
 order did well to entertain misgivings, even with the 
 wine cup in their hands. 
 
 As far as the other side of the picture was concerned, 
 Fitz was fully entitled to regard himself as a much 
 injured man. It is true that in the first instance he 
 
 85
 
 86 MRS. FITZ 
 
 had taken the liberty of contracting a morganatic mar- 
 riage with a princess in the direct line of succession 
 of a reigning house. But in a country like ours, where 
 the freedom of the subject and the right of the indi- 
 vidual to shape his own destiny form the keystone of the 
 arch upon which the fabric of society is raised, it was 
 impossible not to sympathise keenly with Fitz. All 
 freeborn Englishmen could not fail to resent the inter- 
 vention of an irresponsible third party, who was reck- 
 lessly determined to violate a tie that had the sanction 
 of God. 
 
 Over our cigars, when the servants had left the room, 
 the orders for the morrow were discussed. 
 
 "I hope, Fitzwaren," said the Chief Constable, "that 
 you fully realise the extreme gravity of your under- 
 taking. A single error of judgment, a single slip in 
 your mode of procedure and we are certain to find our- 
 selves very badly landed indeed. Personally, I hope 
 very much that you will leave lethal weapons out of 
 the case. If we carry them we run up against the law ; 
 and not only will they prejudice our cause but there 
 is no saying to what they may lead." 
 
 "I should like," said I, "to identify myself with these 
 remarks of Coverdale's. I concur entirely." 
 
 Fitz removed the cigar from his lips and leaned back 
 in his chair. He seemed to be pondering deeply. 
 
 "I respect the opinion of both of you," he said, 
 speaking with a good deal of deliberation after a pause 
 that was somewhat lengthy. "You are quite right in 
 one sense, but in the most important sense of all, I am 
 sure you are wrong. I should like everybody who is
 
 ON THE EVE 87 
 
 going into this business to understand clearly that it 
 is most likely to prove extremely serious. We must 
 take every reasonable precaution, because the moment 
 we enter von Arlenberg's house we carry our lives in our 
 hands. I know these Illyrians ; as soon as they under- 
 stand our game they will use no ceremony. Law or no 
 law, they will shoot us like dogs if they think it is 
 necessary. And I can assure you they will think it is 
 necessary, unless we get them with their hands up." 
 
 "I don't like lethal weapons," said the Chief Con- 
 stable. 
 
 "I don't like them either," said Fitz, "but if we are 
 to come through with this business, we shall be com- 
 pelled to carry them." Suddenly his voice sank. "The 
 truth is, this game is so dangerous, that I don't urge 
 anybody to take part in it. Let any man who thinks 
 the cause is good enough follow me with a loaded re- 
 volver in his right hand trouser pocket; and let any 
 man who doesn't keep out of it, and I shall be the last 
 to blame him." 
 
 In the language there may not have been persuasive- 
 ness, but there was a good deal in the tone. Fitz's man- 
 ner was that of a leader of others ; of one who foresaw 
 the risks he incurred; who embraced them deliberately; 
 who having once formed his plan stuck to it whatever 
 it might entail. 
 
 Coverdale had seen service in Zululand, the Trans- 
 vaal and in Egypt ; Brasset and I had borne a humble 
 share in the recent transactions in South Africa; yet 
 in an unconscious way we were all susceptible to the 
 play of a powerful will and a magnetic personality.
 
 88 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Cynics may say it was the wine that turned the scale 
 the juice of the grape is the fount of many a hardy 
 resolution but I prefer to think it was the quality of 
 Fitz himself. Retreat at the eleventh hour might have 
 been construed as dishonourable, but men like Coverdale 
 had no need to be fantastically nice upon the point of 
 honour. It was, I think, that Fitz carried conviction. 
 His was the inestimable gift of rising with his theme. 
 Heaven knew! the enterprise was foolhardy, but the 
 man himself was a good one to follow. 
 
 All the same, when we adjourned our meeting with 
 the compact that we should assemble at Middleham 
 railway station on the morrow in time to catch the 3.30 
 to London, I went home in a state of depression. Were 
 I to have been hanged at cock crow, I could not have 
 found my bed more unsympathetic. Most of the night 
 I lay awake in a state of the most unworthy appre- 
 hension. The very intangibility of the business of the 
 morrow seemed to make it a nightmare. Had it been 
 a duel, or a definite pitting of one known force against 
 another, it would have seemed less uncomfortable, less 
 sinister. As it was, we did not know precisely to what 
 we stood committed. The thing might prove merely 
 farcical. On the contrary, it might involve battle, 
 murder and sudden death. 
 
 A dozen times in the dismal darkness the question was 
 put, by what chain of events had a mildly egoistical 
 hedonist, the husband of a charming lady, the father of 
 a merry blue-eyed daughter, with a reasonable com- 
 petence and an ambition to excel at golf, come to imperil
 
 ON THE EVE 89 
 
 all these delectable things? Merely at the beck of a 
 wild-living profligate who felt he had been wronged. 
 
 Stated as bluntly as this in the high court of reason 
 the whole thing seemed absurd. There was so much to 
 lose and so little to gain. The scheme was preposterous. 
 Nevil Fitzwaren might certainly be the victim of an 
 injustice, but what of Miss Lucinda and her mama? 
 True, Coverdale was also a party to the scheme ; but 
 he was by nature adventurous, a seeker after something 
 fresh. To be sure he imperilled his billet, but he was 
 understood to have private means. 
 
 "Odo Arbuthnot," said the thin voice of reason at 
 three o'clock in the morning, "you must withdraw from 
 this incredibly foolish and reprehensible proceeding." 
 
 Howbeit the voice of reason never sways us entirely. 
 Accordingly I made a particularly feeble breakfast, 
 wrote a letter to my grandmother in Bolton Street, sped 
 the Madam, looking supremely gay and engaging, on 
 the way to her fond parents at Doughty Bridge, Yorks., 
 read the immortal story of "The Three Bears" to Miss 
 Lucinda for the thousand and first time, carefully over- 
 hauled the six-chambered weapon which a professional 
 criminal had yet to put to the test, and in a miserable 
 frame of mind sat down to luncheon in the company of 
 my relation by marriage. 
 
 It may be that the holy state of wedlock makes 
 cowards of us all. Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane- 
 Anstruther was certainly not embarrassed by such 
 qualms as these. He was even more serenely magnifi- 
 cent than usual in a suit of grey tweeds aggressively 
 checked and a waistcoat that was conducting a violent
 
 90 MRS. FITZ 
 
 quarrel with a Zingari necktie; while his air of hopeful 
 enjoyment of life as it was and as it was going to be, 
 provoked some rather pregnant reflections upon the 
 crime of homicide. 
 
 "O'Mulligan's wired. Mad keen. A regular nut." 
 
 The well of English undefiled grows more copious 
 with the process of ages. By what mysterious alchemy 
 the quality of mad keenness transforms its possessor 
 into a "regular nut" I was too low-spirited to elucidate. 
 
 "Fitz is a game bird, ain't he?" Flamboyant youth 
 heartily poured half a bottle of Worcestershire sauce 
 over its cutlet. "Didn't think he had it in him. Merely 
 shows how you can be deceived." 
 
 I groaned in spirit, but plucked up the courage to 
 take a dismal nibble at a piece of toast. 
 
 "That chap Coverdale is a bit of a funkstick. Made 
 himself rather an ass about those firearms." 
 
 I assented feebly. 
 
 "Bet you a pony they want our photographs for the 
 Morning Mirror." 
 
 I rose from the table and took a turn in the kitchen 
 garden. When your heart is fairly in your boots, the 
 society of your peers has its drawbacks. 
 
 At half past two, punctual to the minute, the toot 
 of the car was heard at the hall door. Miss Lucinda 
 received a parting salute and an illicit box of chocolates 
 which consoled her immensely for the temporary loss 
 permanent perhaps in the case of one of both her 
 parents. 
 
 I confess to being one of those weak mortals who on 
 a journey is invariably accompanied by the conscious-
 
 ON THE EVE 91 
 
 ness of having left something undone or having omitted 
 to pack some unremembered but quite indispensable 
 necessary. Three-fourths of the way to the station I 
 was haunted with this feeling in a more acute form 
 than usual, and then quite suddenly, with a spasm of 
 perverse joy, it occurred to me that I had left the 
 burglar's foe in its secret receptacle. 
 
 "Thank God for that !" was the , pious hyperbole 
 which ascended to heaven. 
 
 At the station we were not the first to arrive on the 
 scene, although there was a full quarter of an hour in 
 hand. Fitz in a fur overcoat of some pretensions bore 
 a look of collected importance which was quite in keep- 
 ing with the role he had to fill. 
 
 "Tickets are taken," said he, "and carriage reserved 
 for five." 
 
 In front of the bookstall a yellow newsbill displayed 
 the contents of a London evening paper, issued at noon. 
 "The Attempt on the Life of the King of Illyria. Lat- 
 est details." 
 
 "Clumsy fools," said the son-in-law of Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth gloomily. "They seem to have bungled the 
 business badly, but they bungle everything in Illyria." 
 
 "His Excellency, the Ambassador, would appear to 
 be an exception to the general rule." 
 
 Fitz bestowed upon me a murderous glower. 
 
 Brasset arrived full five minutes in advance of the 
 London express. Pink and cherubic, his recent per- 
 plexity had yielded to an omnipresent look of peace. 
 His well-groomed air suggested that he took a simple 
 pleasure in being alive.
 
 92 MRS. FITZ 
 
 The question, however, for the four conspirators 
 assembled on the Middleham platform was, what had 
 happened to the Chief Constable? Was it conceivable 
 that the noble Brutus had left us in the lurch? Remem- 
 bering my own travail of the spirit, which still endured, 
 it seemed most natural and becoming to my partial 
 judgment, that one so wise had repented of his folly 
 at the eleventh hour. 
 
 Howbeit, my lips were sealed upon these illicit 
 thoughts. Fitz himself suspected no treachery. He 
 ushered us into the reserved compartment with immense 
 dignity, and retained the left hand corner seat, with 
 the back to the engine, for the missing warrior. 
 
 "Coverdale is cutting it fine," I ventured to remark. 
 
 "There is a minute yet," said Fitz with an in- 
 souciance which, to use a much-abused expression, was 
 Napoleonic. 
 
 A porter who suffered from rickets put in his head. 
 
 "All London, gentlemen?" 
 
 "Yes," said Fitz, introducing a shilling to a grimy 
 but willing palm. "And just see that the station-master 
 keeps the train a few minutes for Colonel Coverdale." 
 
 "Agen the regulations you know, sir," said the porter 
 with polite misgiving. 
 
 "Against what regulations?" said the undefeated 
 Fitz. 
 
 "The Company's." 
 
 "Against the Company's regulations ! Who the devil 
 are the Company that they should have regulations?" 
 
 This was a poser for the porter, who made a rather 
 ineffectual apology for such a piece of assumption on
 
 ON THE EVE 93 
 
 the part of the Company. But the station-master's 
 bell was ringing, and I, peering wildly through the 
 window, in the vain hope that my mentor, my hope, 
 my stand-by might after all appear, could see never a 
 sign of Lieutenant Colonel John Chalmers Coverdale, 
 C.M.G., late of His Majesty's Carabineers.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 
 
 BUT what is that? A commotion away up the plat- 
 form, under the clock. Yes, it is he, the faithful and 
 the valiant! At least it is not he, but one Baguley, a 
 superannuated police sergeant, bereft of an eye in the 
 service of the public peace. He staggers along under 
 the oppressive burden of a kit bag of portentous di- 
 mensions, and twenty paces behind, sauntering along 
 the platform with the most leisurely nonchalance in 
 the world, blandly indifferent to the fact that the Lon- 
 don express is due out, is the impressive and slightly 
 pompous bulk of the fifth conspirator, the great Chief 
 Constable. 
 
 There is a tremendous touching of hats along the 
 platform. Even that true Olympian, the guard of the 
 London express, contrives to dissemble his legitimate 
 impatience, while Coverdale and his kit bag come aboard 
 the reserved compartment. 
 
 "Cutting it rather fine, weren't you?" said I with a 
 tremor of relief in my voice. 
 
 "Time enough," said the Chief Constable, subsiding 
 with a growl and a glower into the left hand corner. 
 
 A shrill blast from the guard, a whistle and a snort 
 from the engine, and we were irrevocably committed 
 to the untender hands of destiny. 
 
 94
 
 ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 95 
 
 We were an ill-assorted party enough. Fitz the 
 embodiment of masterful determination, with his black 
 eyes glowing with their inward fire ; Brasset and Jodey 
 as cheerful and almost as blase as two undergraduates 
 on their way to attend a point-to-point race meeting ; 
 and Coverdale and the humble individual responsible 
 for this narrative, silent, saturnine and profoundly 
 uncomfortable. 
 
 It is true that I was favoured with one fragment of 
 the Chief Constable's discourse. It was communicated 
 with pregnant brevity ten miles from Bedford. 
 
 "You old fool !" was its context. 
 
 "It was Fitz who kept the train for you," I countered 
 weakly. 
 
 Whoever was to blame we were fairly in for it now ; 
 and to repine was vain. 
 
 "I am glad about your friend O'What's-his-name," 
 said Fitz to Jodey. "A man of his hands, hey? By 
 the way, I believe you did mention a revolver." 
 
 My relation by marriage grinned an almost disgust- 
 ingly effusive affirmative. 
 
 "I suppose you fellows have all remembered to bring 
 one !" 
 
 Somehow my looks bewrayed me. 
 
 "You've brought one, Arbuthnot ?" 
 
 I began to perspire. 
 
 "The fact is," said I, "I had a capital .38 Webley, 
 but it appears to be mislaid." 
 
 "That can easily be remedied. I have brought three 
 in case of emergency." 
 
 "How lucky," said I with insincerity.
 
 96 MRS. FITZ 
 
 We were converging upon the metropolis all too soon. 
 
 "I have engaged six bedrooms at Long's Hotel," said 
 Fitz. 
 
 "Only five will be necessary," said I, "as O'Mulligan 
 lives in Jermyn Street." 
 
 "You have forgotten Sonia." 
 
 It is true that for the moment I had forgotten the 
 cause of all our woes. Fitz had not however; indeed, 
 he had forgotten nothing. Not only did he appear to 
 have everything arranged, but he seemed to have taken 
 cognisance of the smallest detail. 
 
 "I have ordered quite a decent little dinner at 
 Ward's," said he. "You can always depend upon good 
 plain, solid, old-fashioned English cooking. They give 
 you the best mulligatawney in London. I must say 
 myself, that if I have to do a man's work, I like to 
 have a man's meal. And I think we can depend on some 
 very decent madeira." 
 
 "It is very satisfactory to know that," said Cover- 
 dale with his deepest growl. 
 
 "There is nothing like madeira in my opinion," said 
 Fitz, "if you are going to be busy and you want to 
 keep cool." 
 
 "That is something to know," said the Chief Con- 
 stable without enthusiasm. 
 
 "I should think it was," said Fitz. "Do you know 
 who gave me the tip ?" 
 
 The Chief Constable gave a growl in the negative. 
 
 "Ferdinand himself. And what that old swine don't 
 know of most things, is not much in the way of knowl- 
 edge. He once told me he practically lived on madeira
 
 97 
 
 throughout the Austrian campaign and the night be- 
 fore Rodova he drank six bottles. He says nothing 
 keeps you so cool and sharp as madeira." 
 
 "Umph," the Chief Constable grunted. 
 
 Brasset and Jodey, however, two extremely zealous 
 subalterns in the Middleshire Yeomanry, were much 
 impressed. 
 
 In three taxis we converged upon Long's Hotel; 
 Brasset and Jodey in the first ; the Chief Constable and 
 his kit bag in the second ; Fitz and myself in the third. 
 A very respectable blizzard was raging ; the streets of 
 the metropolis were in a truly horrid condition, wholly 
 unfit for man or beast ; and the atmosphere had the 
 peculiar raw chill of a thoroughly disagreeable win- 
 ter's night in London. But at every yard we slopped 
 precariously through the half melted slush of the 
 streets, Fitz seemed to wax more Napoleonic. He was 
 not in any sense aggressive; there was not a trace of 
 undue mental or moral elevation, yet he was the pos- 
 sessor of a subtle quality that seemed to render him 
 eqMal to any occasion. 
 
 "There is just one thing may undo us," he confessed 
 to me. 
 
 "Fate?" 
 
 "No; to my mind fate is never your master, if you 
 really mean to be master of it. But there may be a spy. 
 Von Arlenberg is as cunning as a fox. And if he thinks 
 I may have something to say in the matter, he will take 
 care that nothing is done without his knowledge. Prob- 
 ably we are being followed." 
 
 To test his grounds for this suspicion, Fitz suddenly
 
 98 MRS. FITZ 
 
 ordered the driver to stop. He thrust his head out 
 of the window, and then an instant later told our Jehu 
 to drive on. 
 
 "Just as I thought," he said. "There is another 
 taxi behind." 
 
 My companion became silent. 
 
 "Something will have to be done," he said. "It won't 
 do for von Arlenberg to know too much." 
 
 During the remainder of the journey Fitz found not 
 a word to say. 
 
 When we came to the quiet family hotel in Bond 
 Street our leader seemed still preoccupied. Certainly 
 he had grounds for his foreboding. A fourth taxi drew 
 up behind the three vehicles we had chartered; and I 
 observed that a man got out of it, and discharging his 
 taxi, entered the hotel. As he passed me I was careful 
 to note his appearance. He was a short, sallow, foreign 
 looking individual, with the collar of his overcoat turned 
 up ; a commonplace creature enough, who on most occa- 
 sions would pass without a remark. 
 
 While we enquired for our rooms, he sat in the lounge 
 unobtrusively. Save for Fitz's own conviction upon the 
 point, it would never have occurred to me that we were 
 undergoing a process of espionage. 
 
 No sooner had Fitz secured his room, than he said 
 in a tone considerably louder than he used as a rule, 
 that he had some business to see after, and that he 
 would be back in an hour. 
 
 The man seated in the lounge could not fail to hear 
 this announcement. And sure enough, hardly had Fitz
 
 99 
 
 passed out of the hotel, when the fellow rose and also 
 took his leave. 
 
 "What is Fitzwaren's game now?" inquired Cover- 
 dale. 
 
 I refrained from advancing any theory as to the 
 nature of Fitz's game. For that matter, I had no 
 theory to advance. It was clear enough that the leader 
 of our enterprise was fully justified in his suspicion, but 
 what his sagacity would profit him, I was wholly at a 
 loss to divine. I was convinced that the business that 
 had called him so suddenly into the sleet-laden dark- 
 ness of the streets had to do with the man who had 
 passed out of the hotel upon his heels; yet precisely 
 what that business was, it was futile to conjecture. 
 
 Prior to our departure for Ward's, the time hung 
 upon our hands somewhat heavily. Brasset and Jodey 
 utilised some of it in bestowing even more pains than 
 usual upon their appearance. In these days it is not 
 necessary to don powder, ruffles and a brocaded waist- 
 coat for the purpose of dining at Ward's, but there 
 is an unwritten law which expects you to wear a white 
 vest at least with your evening clothes. Even Cover- 
 dale and I thought well to comply with this sumptuary 
 law. We were both past the age when one's tailor is 
 omnipotent; but when in Rome, those who would be 
 thought men of the world are careful to do like the 
 Romans. 
 
 Four carefully groomed specimens of British man- 
 hood greeted Fitz in the hotel foyer upon his return. 
 It was then five minutes to seven, and our mentor entered 
 in a perfectly cool and collected manner. He apolo-
 
 100 MRS. FITZ 
 
 gised, perhaps a thought deliberately, for the necessity 
 which had deprived us of his society. Twenty minutes 
 later he was looking as spick and span as the rest 
 of us. 
 
 While the hotel porter was whistling up the necessary 
 means for our conveyance to Saint James's Street, I 
 found Fitz at my elbow. 
 
 "By the way," said he in a casual undertone, "did 
 you mention to the others about the fellow who followed 
 us in the taxi?" 
 
 My answer was in the negative. 
 
 "I'm glad of that. I think it will be wise if you 
 don't. It might worry them, you know. And there 
 is no need to worry about him now." 
 
 "Have you thrown him off the scent?" 
 
 "Yes," said Fitz quietly. "We shall have no more 
 trouble from that sportsman." 
 
 I forebore to allow my curiosity any further rein 
 upon this subject. Beneath Fitz's cool and cordial tone 
 was a suggestion that he would thank me to dismiss it. 
 Howbeit, I had no hint as to what had happened outside 
 in the street, and I was burning to know. 
 
 It was a minute past the half hour when we arrived 
 at Ward's, but the punctual O'Mulligan was there 
 already. He rejoiced in the name of Alexander; his 
 freckles were many and he had a shock of red hair. 
 His nose was of the snub variety; his ears stuck out 
 at right angles ; his eyes were light green ; and his 
 jaw was square and massive and the most magnificently 
 aggressive the mind of man can conceive. Regarded 
 from the purely aesthetic standpoint, Alexander O'Mul-
 
 ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 101 
 
 ligan might be a subject for discussion, yet he was as 
 full of "points" as a prize bulldog. He was not so tall 
 as Coverdale, but every ounce of him was solid muscle ; 
 his chest was deep and spreading, his hands were corded 
 and he had the grip of a garrotter. 
 
 Alexander O'Mulligan shook hands all around with the 
 greatest comprehensiveness. As he did so he grinned 
 from ear to ear in the sheer joy of acquaintance- 
 ship. Fitz was his first victim and I was his last, but 
 each of us would as lief shake hands with a gibbon as 
 with our friend O'Mulligan. The fellow was so abom- 
 inably hearty. He shook hands as though it was the 
 thing of all others he loved doing best in the world. 
 
 The dinner was admirable. Whether it was force 
 of example, or the magnetic presence of Alexander 
 O'Mulligan, I am not prepared to say, but certainly 
 we did ourselves very well. Upon first entering the 
 hallowed precincts of Ward's, I had been in no mood 
 to appreciate "really good old-fashioned English cook- 
 ing." One would have thought that only the most 
 recherche of dinners would have tempted us in our pres- 
 ent state of mind. But somehow our new friend O'Mul- 
 ligan dispensed an atmosphere of Gargantuan good 
 humour. 
 
 Hardly had we come to close quarters with the far- 
 famed mulligatawney, which was quite appropriate to 
 the conditions prevailing without, when our latest 
 recruit insisted that one and all must dine with him 
 on the morrow, and then adjourn to the National 
 Sporting Club, for the purpose of witnessing "Burns's 
 go with the gunner."
 
 102 MRS. FITZ 
 
 If I live to the age of a hundred and twenty, I shall 
 not forget our little dinner at Ward's. Six common- 
 place specimens of les hommes moyens sensuels with 
 lethal weapons in their pockets and anything from pitch 
 and toss to manslaughter in their hearts ! Really, it 
 was the incongruous carried to the verge of the bizarre. 
 
 Fitz at the head of the table was gracious to a degree. 
 The fellow was revealing a whole gamut of unsuspected 
 qualities. His composure, his half gay, half sinister 
 insouciance, his alertness, his knowledge, his faculty for 
 action, which seemed to grow in proportion with the 
 demands that were made upon it, such an array of 
 qualities was curiously inconsistent with the heedless 
 waster the world had always judged him to be. 
 
 Now that he had come to grips with fate the real 
 Nevil Fitzwaren was emerging with considerable 
 potency. As far as "the married man, the father of 
 the family and the county member" was concerned the 
 fellow's daemonic power was the cause of his dining 
 quite reasonably well. As for Coverdale, after swallow- 
 ing his plate of mulligatawney, his glance ceased to 
 reproach me. His habitual philosophy and the old- 
 fashioned English cooking began to walk hand in hand. 
 The evening's business was quite likely to cost him his 
 billet, but at least it was sure to be excellent fun. 
 Besides, when he stood committed to a thing, it was his 
 habit to see it through. 
 
 Dinner was conducted in the spirit of leisurely har- 
 mony which is due to the traditions accruing to the 
 shade of John Ward who left this vale of tears in 1720. 
 Fitz assured us that there was no hurry. If we got a
 
 103 
 
 move on about nine we should have plenty of time to do 
 our business with his Excellency. 
 
 "You haven't quite explained the orders for the day, 
 my dear fellow," said Coverdale, taking a reverential 
 sip of the famous old brandy.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 
 
 "THE orders for the day don't need much explana- 
 tion," said Fitz. "Merely see that there are six cart- 
 ridges in your revolver; keep it in your trouser pocket 
 with your hand on it, and then follow the man from 
 Cook's." 
 
 "Like all schemes of the first magnitude," said I, "it 
 appears to be simplicity itself." 
 
 "It is this confounded revolver business," said Cover- 
 dale, "that I should like to see dispensed with. It might 
 so easily land us in serious trouble." 
 
 "It is far more likely to land us out of serious 
 trouble," said Fitz. "But this I can promise: they 
 will not be produced except in the last resort." 
 
 It was clear that the question of the revolvers had 
 made Coverdale as uneasy as it had made me; but the 
 only thing to be done now was to pin implicit faith upon 
 the sameness of Fitz's judgment. Certainly he had 
 aroused respect. His method of communicating to 
 Alexander O'Mulligan the nature of the cause and 
 the need for absolute obedience to the word of command 
 appeared to kindle awe and admiration in equal parts 
 in the breast of the middle weight champion of the 
 United Kingdom. 
 
 104
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 105 
 
 "Do exactly as you are told, O'Mulligan, and do 
 nothing without orders, unless they begin to shoot, and 
 then you begin to shoot too. By the way, Arbuthnot, 
 did I understand you to say you had forgotten to bring 
 a revolver?" 
 
 I admitted the impeachment. 
 
 "I have several spare ones in my overcoat" the 
 tone of reproof was delicate. "Is there anyone else 
 who has forgotten to provide himself with one?" 
 
 "There is also a spare one at my rooms round the 
 corner," said Alexander O'Mulligan, with an air of 
 modest pride. 
 
 Fitz honoured the new recruit with a nod of curt 
 approval. In any assembly of lawbreakers the Bayard 
 from Jermyn Street would be sure of a hearty welcome. 
 His face had expanded to the most moonlike propor- 
 tions, which the freckles and the prominent ears set 
 off fantastically ; and in the green eyes was a look of 
 genuine ecstasy, beside which the emotion in those of 
 Brasset and Jodey was mere hopeful expectation. 
 
 Fitz took out his watch and studied it with the air 
 of the Man of Destiny. 
 
 "Fourteen minutes to nine," said he. "At nine 
 o'clock I shall drive alone to No. 300 Portland Place, 
 in a taxi. At four minutes past nine, Coverdale and 
 Arbuthnot will follow. They will ask for the Ambas- 
 sador, Coverdale giving the name of General Drago, 
 and Arbuthnot the name of Count Alexis Zbynska. 
 You will be shown into a waiting-room while your names 
 are taken in to his Excellency. If he is in, he will 
 receive you ; if he is not. Grindberg, or one of the other
 
 106 MRS. FITZ 
 
 secretaries, or one of the attaches, will have a word 
 with you. Keep your mufflers up to your ears and have 
 the collars of your overcoats turned up. If von Arlen- 
 berg is not in, say you will wait for him. You can use 
 Illyrian, or French, or broken English. Of course your 
 object, in any case, will be to gain time and keep in 
 the house until you receive further instructions. Am 
 I clear?" 
 
 "Reasonably clear," said Coverdale. "If we gain 
 access to the house we are not to leave it until we hear 
 from you?" 
 
 "That is so." 
 
 "And what about Alec and Brasset and me?" The 
 earnestness of my relation by marriage was wistful. 
 
 "O'Mulligan will leave four minutes after Coverdale 
 and Arbuthnot. He will merely give his name as Cap- 
 tain Forbes, who desires to fix an appointment with 
 von Arlenberg upon a private matter of importance. 
 He won't be able to fix it ; but they will send a chap to 
 talk to you, O'Mulligan. You must be very long- 
 winded and you must use your best English, and you 
 must waste as much time as you can. Understand?" 
 
 O'Mulligan beamed like a seraph. 
 
 "And Brasset and me?" said the pleading voice. 
 
 "Brasset will leave four minutes after O'Mulligan. 
 He will be Mr. Bonser, a messenger from the Foreign 
 Office, with a letter for von Arlenberg. Here you are, 
 Brasset, here is the letter for von Arlenberg." 
 
 With a matter-of-factness which was really inimit- 
 able, Fitz tossed across the tablecloth the missive in 
 question, copiously daubed with red sealing wax.
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 107 
 
 "Brasset," said Fitz, "you will be careful not to give 
 this most important letter into the keeping of anybody 
 save and except his Excellency, Baron von Arlenberg, 
 Ambassador and Plenipotentiary Extraordinary to his 
 Majesty the King of Illyria, at the Court of Saint 
 James." 
 
 "I hope the superscription is correct," said I, mis- 
 guidedly. 
 
 Fitz looked me down with the eye of a Frederick. 
 The sympathy of the table was with him entirely. 
 
 "Somebody will want to take it to the Ambassador," 
 said Fitz. "But, Brasset, your instructions are that 
 you deliver this document to his Excellency in person." 
 
 With an air of reverence, Brasset inserted the letter 
 with its portentous red seal in his cigar-case. The most 
 exacting of ministers could not have desired a more 
 trustworthy or a more eminently discreet custodian 
 for an epoch-making document than the Master of the 
 Crackanthorpe. 
 
 "How shall I know old von Thingamy when I see 
 him?" inquired the messenger from the Foreign Office. 
 
 "You won't see him," said Fitz. "But you must 
 make it appear that you want to see him particularly." 
 
 "But if I should happen to see him ?" 
 
 The Master of the Crackanthorpe was awed into 
 silence by a Napoleonic gesture. 
 
 "Where do I come in?" said the pleading voice from 
 the wilderness. 
 
 "You come in, Vane-Anstruther," said Fitz to my 
 relation by marriage, "four minutes after Brasset. 
 You are Lieutenant von Wildengarth-Mergle from
 
 108 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Blaenau, with a letter of introduction to the Illyrian 
 Ambassador. Here is your card, and you can give it 
 to anybody you like." 
 
 The recipient was immensely gratified by the card 
 of Lieutenant von Wildengarth-Mergle of the Ninth 
 Regiment of Hussars when it was bestowed upon him. 
 His manner of disposing of it was precisely similar to 
 that adopted by Brasset in the case of the letter from 
 the Foreign Office. His bearing also was modelled 
 obviously upon that of that ornament of high 
 diplomacy. 
 
 "I assume," said I, "that we are all to bluff our way 
 into the Illyrian Embassy ; and once we are there we 
 are to take care to stay until we are advised further?" 
 
 "That is so." 
 
 "But let us assume for a moment that we get no 
 advice ?" 
 
 "If I do not come to you by ten minutes to ten, or 
 you are not sent for by then, you are all to leave any 
 anteroom you may be in, and you are to walk straight 
 up the central staircase, taking notice of nobody. If 
 they try to stop you, merely say you wish to see the 
 Ambassador." 
 
 "And if they use force?" 
 
 "Make use of it yourself, with as much noise as you 
 can. And if you still fail to hear from me, then will 
 be the time to think about retirement. Does everybody 
 understand ?" 
 
 Everybody did apparently. 
 
 "It is seven minutes to nine. Time we began to 
 collect our taxis."
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 109 
 
 Fitz rose from the table, and in a body we went in 
 search of our coats and hats. For my fellow con- 
 spirators I cannot speak, but my heart was beating 
 in the absurdest manner, and my veins were tingling. 
 There was that sense of exaltation in them which is 
 generally reserved for a quick twenty minutes over the 
 grass. 
 
 "Give me that revolver," said I. 
 
 As Fitz smuggled the weapon into my hand, I could 
 feel my pulses leaping immorally. This sensation may 
 have been due to my having dined at Ward's ; although 
 doubtless it is more scientific to ascribe it to some 
 primeval instinct which has resisted civilisation's rav- 
 ages upon human nature. 
 
 As I stealthily inserted the weapon into the pocket 
 of my trousers, I stole a covert glance at the solemn 
 visage of the Chief Constable. The great man was 
 smiling benignly at his thoughts, and smoking a big 
 cigar with an air of Homeric enjoyment. 
 
 As Fitz, tall-hatted and fur-coated, picked his way 
 delicately down the slush-covered steps to where his taxi 
 awaited him, he turned to offer a word of final instruc- 
 tion to his followers. 
 
 "Coverdale and Arbuthnot 9.4; O'Mulligan 9.8; 
 Brasset 9.12 ; Vane-Anstruther 9.16. If you hear noth- 
 ing in the meantime, at 9.50 you go upstairs." 
 
 "Righto," we chorussed, as Fitz boarded his chariot 
 with a self-possession that was even touched with 
 languor. 
 
 We watched him turn into Piccadilly, and then pro- 
 ceeded solemnly to invest ourselves in coats and mufflers.
 
 110 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Four minutes is not a long space of time, yet it is quite 
 possible for it to seem an age. Before the hall clock 
 pointed to 9.4, one might have had a double molar 
 drawn, or one's head cut off by the guillotine. 
 
 "300 Portland Place," said the Chief Constable in 
 tones which somehow seemed astonishingly loud, while 
 I squeezed as far as possible into the far corner of the 
 vehicle for the better accommodation of my stalwart 
 companion. 
 
 "Dirty night," said the Chief Constable. "Not fit 
 for a dog to be out. Have the glass down?" 
 
 It may have been an overwrought fancy, but I 
 thought I perceived a slight, but unmistakable tremor 
 in the voice of the head of the Middleshire Con- 
 stabulary. 
 
 "Not for me, thanks," said I. "These things are so 
 stuffy." 
 
 The head of the Middleshire Constabulary agreed 
 with me. The impression may have been due to a dis- 
 ordered fancy, but I thought I detected a note of 
 embarrassment in the Chief Constable's laugh. 
 
 From Saint James's Street to Portland Place is not 
 far, and this evening we seemed to accomplish the jour- 
 ney in a very short time. Having dismissed our taxi at 
 the door of the Ambassador's imposing residence, we 
 each looked to the other to ring his Excellency's door- 
 bell. 
 
 "General," said I, "you are my senior, and I feel that 
 your Illyrian, or your French, or your broken English, 
 or any other language in which you may be moved to 
 indulge, will carry more weight than mine."
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 111 
 
 "Oh, do you! By the way, I have forgotten my 
 name." 
 
 "General Drago." 
 
 "And yours?" 
 
 "Count Alexis Zbynska." 
 
 "Well, here goes." 
 
 The gallant warrior gave a mighty tug at the bell. 
 This met with no attention ; but at the second assault 
 on the ambassadorial door-bell, the massive portal was 
 swung back, slowly and solemnly, by a gorgeous menial. 
 In the immediate background there were others. 
 
 "I am General Drago, and I wish to see the Am- 
 bassador." The Chief Constable's precision of phrase 
 was really majestic. 
 
 The stalwart Illyrian, who seemed to be quite seven 
 feet high from the crown of his wig to the soles of his 
 silk stockings, bowed and led the way within. 
 
 When we had crossed his Excellency's threshold, and 
 just as a gorgeous interior had unfolded itself to our 
 respectful gaze, a very urbane-looking personage in 
 evening clothes and a pair of white kid gloves took 
 charge of us. He led us through a spacious hall con- 
 taining pillars of white marble, whence we passed into 
 a waiting-room, immediately to the right of a distinctly 
 imposing alabaster staircase. In this apartment the 
 light was dim and religious, and the atmosphere had 
 a chill solemnity. Our friend of the white kid gloves 
 presented us with a slip of paper apiece, and indicated 
 an inkstand on the table. 
 
 "Write our names in Illyrian," I whispered to my 
 fellow conspirator. "They will carry more weight."
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 The Chief Constable inscribed his own name on the 
 slip of paper very laboriously, in the Illyrian character. 
 When he had accomplished this feat, I proceeded as well 
 as in me lay, and with a deliberation quite equal to his 
 own, to commit to paper the name of the Herr Graf 
 Alexis von Zybnska. I was beset with much misgiving 
 as to the correct manner of spelling it, and therefore 
 had recourse to a number of superfluous flourishes in 
 order to conceal my ignorance as far as possible. 
 
 When the gentleman of the white kid gloves had 
 solemnly borne away the slips of paper, the Chief Con- 
 stable proceeded to remove a bead of honest perspira- 
 tion from his manly forehead. 
 
 "Of all the cursed crackbrained schemes !" he mut- 
 tered. "What does the madman expect us to do now !" 
 
 "Say as little and waste as much time as we can," 
 said I, "and at ten minutes to ten, if we are still alive, 
 we are to make our way up that staircase." 
 
 The head of the Middleshire Constabulary subsided 
 into incoherence mingled with profanity. 
 
 The gentleman of the white kid gloves had closed 
 the door upon us. The gloom and the silence of the 
 room was terribly oppressive. With ticking nerves, I 
 made a survey of its contents. The furniture appeared 
 to consist of a large table with massive legs, half a 
 dozen chairs covered in red leather, a full length por- 
 trait in oils by Bruffenhauser, of his Illyrian Majesty, 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth, in which the victor of Rodova 
 appeared in full regalia in a gilt frame, a really mag- 
 nificent-looking old gentleman ; while on a separate table 
 at the far end of the room was the Almanach de Gotha.
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 113 
 
 It began to seem that our suspense was going to last 
 for ever. Not a sound penetrated to us from beyond 
 the closed door. At last Coverdale took out his watch. 
 
 "Is it ten minutes to ten yet?" I enquired anxiously. 
 
 "No ; it still wants a couple of minutes to half past 
 nine." 
 
 To be condemned to support such tension for a whole 
 twenty minutes longer was to place a term upon 
 eternity. 
 
 "Hadn't we better open the door?" said I, "so that 
 we can hear if anything happens." 
 
 My fellow conspirator concurred. 
 
 I opened the door accordingly and looked out in the 
 direction of the alabaster staircase. A man was de- 
 scending it in a rather languid manner. There was 
 something curiously familiar about his appearance. 
 As soon as he saw me standing at the foot of the stairs 
 he quickened his pace. It was clear that he wished to 
 speak to me. 
 
 "Keep cool," he said, and to my half-joyful bewilder- 
 ment, I recognised the voice of Fitz. "You and Cover- 
 dale had better leave your overcoats in that room and 
 go up. Go into the first room on the left on the first 
 floor !" 
 
 With a coolness that was almost incredible, Fitz 
 sauntered away across the wide vestibule with his hands 
 in his pockets, while I returned to Coverdale with this 
 latest command. 
 
 We obeyed it with a sense of relief. Anything was 
 better than to sit counting the seconds in that funereal 
 waiting-room. Divested of our overcoats, we went forth
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 up the staircase, doing our best to appear quite at ease, 
 as though there was nothing in the least unusual in the 
 situation. 
 
 Half-way up we were confronted with two men com- 
 ing down. They looked at us with quiet intentness and 
 seemed inclined to speak. Coverdale passed on with 
 set gaze and rigid facial muscles, an art in which, like 
 so many of his countrymen, he is greatly accomplished. 
 His "Speak-to-me-if-you-dare" expression stood us in 
 excellent stead. The two men passed down the stairs 
 without venturing to address us, and we went up. 
 
 The first room on the left, on the first floor, was a 
 larger and more cheerful apartment than the one from 
 which we had come. It was better lit ; there was a 
 bright fire, and it was furnished with taste, after the 
 fashion of a drawing-room. There were books, photo- 
 graphs, and a piano. 
 
 The room was empty, but we had been in it scarcely 
 a minute when a servant entered to offer us coffee. We 
 did not disdain the ambassadorial bounty. Excellent 
 coffee it was. 
 
 We were toying with this refreshment when a stealthy 
 rustle apprised us that we were also about to receive 
 the indulgence of feminine society. A young woman, 
 tall and graceful, and charmingly gowned, came into 
 the room with a sheet of music in her hand. The pres- 
 ence of a pair of total strangers did not embarrass her. 
 
 "Do you like Schubert?" said she with a delightful 
 foreign intonation. 
 
 "I think Schubert is charming," said I, with heart- 
 iness and promptitude.
 
 THE ORDERS FOR THE DAY 115 
 
 The lady flashed her teeth in a rare smile and sat 
 down at the piano. I arranged her music with a care 
 that was rather elaborate. 
 
 It was not Schubert, however, that she began to play, 
 but a haunting little "Impromptu" of Schumann's. 
 Her playing was good to listen to, for her touch was 
 highly educated; also it was fascinating to watch her 
 movements since she was an extremely graceful and 
 vivid work of nature. 
 
 Very assiduously I turned over her music. The occu- 
 pation in itself was pleasant; also it seemed to give 
 some sort of sanction to our unlawful presence. Cover- 
 dale with his hands tucked deep in his pockets, appeared 
 to listen most critically to the lady's playing ; although, 
 as I have heard him declare himself, the only form of 
 music that appeals to him is "a really good brass band." 
 
 In the course of the performance of Schumann's 
 "Impromptu" the audience of the fair pianiste gained 
 in number and authority. Like the famous Pied Piper 
 of Hamelin, the thrilling delicacy of her touch began 
 to entice quaint beasts from their lair. Alexander 
 O'Mulligan sauntered into the drawing-room at about 
 the fourth bar. He wore his most seraphic grin, arid 
 his ears were spread to catch the most illusive chords 
 of melody. He gave Coverdale a jovial nod and winked 
 at me. It was clear that the amateur middle weight 
 champion of Great Britain was enjoying himself im- 
 mensely. 
 
 Hardly had Alexander O'Mulligan advised us of his 
 genial presence, when Brasset and my relation by mar- 
 riage came in upon tiptoe. The sight of us all with
 
 116 MRS. FITZ 
 
 an unknown lady discoursing Schumann for our benefit 
 was doubtless as reassuring as it was unexpected. In 
 the emotion of the moment Jodey gave the amateur 
 middle weight champion a fraternal dig in the ribs. 
 
 However, our party could not be considered complete 
 without the presence of the chief gamester. The "Im- 
 promptu" had run its course and the gracious lady at 
 the piano had been prevailed upon to play something of 
 Brahms', when the master mind, whose arrival we were 
 nervously awaiting, appeared once more upon the scene. 
 Fitz came into the room looking every inch the Man of 
 Destiny.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY 
 
 IT was not in looks alone that Fitz resembled the 
 Man of Destiny. The peremptory decision of his man- 
 ner fitted him for the part. The beautiful musician 
 and her subtle cadences were significant to him only 
 in so far as they could serve his will. Fitz entered in 
 the midst of a rhapsody played divinely ; and with an 
 unconcerned air he went straight up to the piano, and, 
 with Napoleonic effrontery, placed his elbow across the 
 music. 
 
 "Sorry to interrupt you, Countess, but there is no 
 time to lose." 
 
 The Countess lifted her fingers from the keys, and 
 her teeth flashed in a smile, that had an edge to it. 
 
 A shrug of the shoulders from the pianiste ; and Fitz 
 began to talk with considerable volubility in his fluent 
 Illyrian. My nurture has been expensive; and on the 
 admirable English principle of the more you pay for 
 your education the less practical knowledge you acquire, 
 let it cause no surprise that my acquaintance with the 
 Illyrian tongue is limited to a few expletives. There- 
 fore I was unable to follow the course of Fitz's con- 
 versation. 
 
 Perforce I had to be content with watching his play 
 of gesture. This, too, was considerable. The air of 
 
 117
 
 118 MRS. FITZ 
 
 languor which it had pleased him to assume in the 
 crisis of his fate was laid aside in favour of a wonderful 
 ardour and conviction. He drummed his fingers on the 
 top of the piano and urged his views with a fervour 
 that might have moved the Sphinx. 
 
 At first the fair musician did not seem prepared to 
 take Fitz seriously. Her smile was arch, and inclined 
 to be playful. But Fitz was in an epic mood. 
 
 He had not come so far upon a momentous enterprise 
 to be gainsaid by a woman's levity. The man began to 
 wax tremendous. He kept his voice low, but the veins 
 swelled in his forehead, and he beat the palm of his 
 right hand with the fist of his left. 
 
 Before such a force of nature no woman could be 
 expected to maintain her negative attitude. Fitz's 
 Illyrian became volcanic. In the end, the lady at the 
 piano spread her hands, said "Hein!" and rose from 
 the music stool. A moment she stood irresolute, but the 
 gaze upon her was that of a serpent fixed upon the eyes 
 of a bird. The man's determination had won the day. 
 For clearly at his behest, she quitted the room, and 
 Fitz, white and tense, yet with blazing eyes, followed 
 her. 
 
 For the moment it seemed that he had forgotten his 
 fellow conspirators. But as soon as he had passed out 
 of the room, he turned back. 
 
 "Stay where you are," he said. "You will be wanted 
 presently." 
 
 The five of us were left staring after him through 
 the open door of the drawing-room. It was the Chief 
 Constable who broke the silence.
 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY 119 
 
 "What's his game now?" 
 
 "He appears to be engaged in convincing a woman 
 against her will," said I. "Were you able to follow the 
 conversation ?" 
 
 "Not altogether. He appears to have made up his 
 mind that Madame shall do something, and Madame 
 appears to have made up hers that she won't. * But 
 exactly what it is, I can't say. I don't mind betting 
 a shilling all the same, that the damned fellow will get 
 his way. Upon my word I have never seen his equal!" 
 
 The Chief Constable laughed in a hollow voice, and 
 removed another bead of honest perspiration from his 
 countenance. 
 
 Fitz's departure with the Countess marked the re- 
 newal of our suspense. Here were the five of us landed 
 indefinitely, biting our thumbs. The situation was 
 rather absurd. Five law-abiding Englishmen assembled 
 with fell intent in a private house, yet knowing very 
 little of the business they had on hand. Each had made 
 his way by stealth, and under false pretences, into the 
 very heart of the place. In this comfortable drawing- 
 room we had no locus standi at all. To all in the estab- 
 lishment we were total strangers, and to us they were 
 equally strange. 
 
 Would Fitz never return? Would the call to action 
 never be made? A man with a high forehead and the 
 look of an official came to the threshold of the room, 
 looked in upon us pensively, and then went away again. 
 Two minutes later, a second individual repeated the 
 performance. Doubtless we were five strange and un-
 
 120 MRS. FITZ 
 
 expected birds but the whole business was beginning 
 to be ridiculous. 
 
 I looked at my watch. It was twenty-five minutes 
 past ten. Then the undefeated O'Mulligan sat down 
 at the piano and began to play the latest masterpiece 
 in vogue at the Tivoli. The strains of his searching 
 melody had the effect of bringing to us another servant 
 with a further supply of coffee. 
 
 "Can you tell me if the Ambassador is dining out 
 to-night?" I said to the servant. 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the man who was English. "At 
 Buckingham Palace, but he will be home before eleven." 
 
 "Is the Crown Princess dining there also?" 
 
 "No, sir, I believe not." 
 
 "She is in the suite of rooms on the next floor?" I 
 said carelessly. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 When the man had withdrawn I was congratulated. 
 
 "Well done, you !" said Coverdale. "Useful informa- 
 tion." 
 
 "I wonder if Fitz knows as much," said I. 
 
 "Of course he does. The infernal fellow has thought 
 this thing out pretty well. He knows the game he's 
 playing." 
 
 This was reassuring from one whose habit was averse 
 from optimism. 
 
 Inspired with the knowledge that his Excellency was 
 dining at Buckingham Palace, Alexander O'Mulligan 
 began to pound away more heartily than ever upon the 
 upright grand. 
 
 "Give your imitation of church bells and a barrel
 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY 
 
 organ, Alec," said a humble admirer, insinuating a trifle 
 more ease into his bearing. 
 
 "Do you think they will mind if we smoke here?" 
 said Brasset, plaintively. "I am dying for a cigarette." 
 
 However, before the Master of the Crackanthorpe 
 could have recourse to this aid to his existence, Fitz 
 returned. He was alone, and he was peremptory. 
 
 "What an infernal din you fellows kick up!" He 
 fixed his daemonic gaze upon the amateur middle weight 
 champion. "Leave that piano and come and be pre- 
 sented to my wife." 
 
 At last we were coming to the horses. There was a 
 perceptible squaring of shoulders and a shooting of 
 cuffs, and then Fitz led the way out of the room, fol- 
 lowed by Coverdale and the rest of us in review order. 
 We were conducted up another marble staircase and 
 along a lengthy corridor, through a succession of recep- 
 tion-rooms, until at last we found ourselves in an apart- 
 ment larger and more ornate than all the others. Its 
 sombre richness was truly imposing. Pictures, tapes- 
 try, candelabra, carpets and furniture all combined to 
 give it the air of a state chamber. 
 
 Three ladies were seated at the far end of this mag- 
 nificent room. One was the fair musician upon whom 
 Fitz had imposed his will; another was a mature and 
 stately dame, with snow-white hair and patrician fea- 
 tures ; and the third, reclining upon a chair with a high 
 gilt back, was the "Stormy Petrel," the Crown Princess 
 of Illyria. 
 
 As soon as we came into the room the two other 
 ladies rose, leaving the Princess seated in state. Fitz
 
 122 MRS. FITZ 
 
 presented each of us with all the formality that the most 
 sensitive royalty could have desired. His manner of 
 recommending us to Her Royal Highness was dignified, 
 authoritative and not without grace. As far as we 
 were concerned, I hope our bearing was not lacking 
 in the necessary punctilio. 
 
 Hitherto it had been our privilege to see Mrs. Fitz 
 out hunting in her famous scarlet coat, when to be sure, 
 she had been the centre of much critical observation. 
 But at such times the princess was merged in the bril- 
 liant horsewoman ; and it goes to prove how easily "the 
 real thing" may pass for the mere audacity of the 
 intrepid adventuress, if one comes to consider that the 
 bearing of "the circus rider from Vienna" awoke no 
 suspicions in respect of her status. 
 
 It would be easy to indulge in a page of reflection 
 upon the subject of Mrs. Fitz. Her style was quite as 
 pronounced in the saddle as it was in the salon, but the 
 experts in that elusive quality had failed, as they do 
 occasionally, to appreciate its authenticity. Doubtless 
 they would have failed again to render the genuine thing 
 its meed, had we not the assurance of Fitz that we were 
 in the presence of the heiress to the oldest monarchy 
 in Europe. 
 
 It is time I attempted to describe this noble creature. 
 But it is vain to seek to portray a great work of nature. 
 Above all else I think she must be regarded as that. 
 She was prodigal in beauty ; imperious in the vividness 
 of her challenge; splendid in the arresting candour of 
 her dark and disdainful eyes. There was a compelling 
 power before which the world of men and things was
 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY 123 
 
 prone to yield ; but there was pathos too in that valiant 
 self-security, which knew so little yet exacted so much ; 
 and beyond all else there was the immemorial fascination 
 of a luckless, intensely sentient being, who seemed in her 
 own person to be the epitome of an entire sex at the 
 dawn of the twentieth century. 
 
 One by one we paid our homage, and it was not ren- 
 dered less by the romance of the circumstances. 
 
 "You are brave men !" she said in a voice wonder- 
 fully low and clear in quality. "We Svelkes have known 
 always how to esteem men of courage." 
 
 Coverdale, as the doyen of the party, took upon 
 himself to speak for us. He held himself erect and 
 bowed much too stiffly to pass muster as a courtier. 
 But he had a kind of plain, almost rough, sincerity 
 which atoned a little for his resolute absence of grace. 
 
 "If we are to have the privilege, ma'am," said the 
 Chief Constable, "of making ourselves useful, I am sure 
 we shall all feel very proud and honoured." 
 
 There is often something rather charming in a plain 
 man's attempt at the ornate. So honourable an awk- 
 wardness caused the eyes of her Royal Highness to glow 
 with humour and kindliness. 
 
 "Mais oui, mon cher, I know it well, les Anglais sont 
 homines honnetes" Suddenly she laughed quite charm- 
 ingly, and enfolded the six of us in a glance of the 
 highest benevolence, with which, doubtless, her favourite 
 dogs and horses had often been indulged. "Do you 
 know, there is something in les Anglais that I like much. 
 Quiet fellows, eh, always a little bete, but so so trust- 
 worthy. Yes, I like them much."
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 There was something soft and quaint and entirely 
 captivating in the accent of her Royal Highness. The 
 smile in her eyes was frankness itself. 
 
 "I hope, ma'am," said the Chief Constable, still 
 labouring valiantly with his politeness, "that we shall 
 deserve praise." 
 
 The princess continued to smile. A very character- 
 istic smile it was. A little girl admiring her array of 
 dolls, or old Frederick of Prussia reviewing his regiment 
 of giants, might have been expected to indulge in a 
 very similar gesture. We were honest Englishmen, 
 quiet fellows, a little bete, who were always to be 
 trusted ; and her naivete was such, that it was bound to 
 inform us of these facts. 
 
 "You must know my ladies. They will like to know 
 you, I am sure." 
 
 The elder was the Margravine of Lesser Grabia ; the 
 fair admirer of Strauss the Countess Etta von Zweidel- 
 heim. The bows were profound ; and not for a moment, 
 did the look of high indulgence quit the face of her 
 Royal Highness. 
 
 "The Margravine is a dear good creature, Colonel 
 Coverdale. Many times she has helped me when I could 
 not do my sums. I never could do sums, because I 
 always thought they were stupid. But she is such a 
 kind faithful soul, my dear Colonel, and not at all stu- 
 pid, like the sums she used to set me. As for her cook- 
 ing, it is excellent. If you are not otherwise engaged, 
 my dear Colonel, I should recommend you to marry 
 her." 
 
 The younger section of her Royal Highness's body-
 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY 125 
 
 guard, Brasset, Jodey and O'Mulligan, gave ground 
 abruptly. The amateur middle weight champion of 
 Great Britain nearly disgraced us all by choking 
 audibly. But really the expression of blank dismay 
 upon the weather-beaten countenance of the Chief Con- 
 stable was stupendous. However, his presence of mind 
 and his courtier-like politeness did not for a moment 
 desert him. 
 
 "Delighted, I'm sure," he murmured. 
 
 "I feel sure, a man so brave as Colonel Coverdale 
 has a good "ife already," said the lady of the patrician 
 features, speaking excellent Engh'sh with great amia- 
 bility. 
 
 A further development of this alluring topic was pre- 
 cluded by the entrance of a fourth lady into the room. 
 She carried an opera cloak. Clearly this was designed 
 for the use of the Princess. 
 
 Her Royal Highness however preferred to tarry. 
 Fitz hovering round her chair found it hard to veil his 
 impatience. Too plainly the delay which was wanton 
 and unnecessary was setting his nerves on edge. His 
 wife must have been conscious of it since she patted 
 his sleeve with an air at once soothing and maternal. 
 Nevertheless she shewed no haste to forego the comfort 
 of the room or the pleasure of the society in which she 
 sat. 
 
 "I was hoping," said Fitz, "that we could get away 
 before the return of von Arlenberg." 
 
 The smile of the Princess was of rare brilliancy. 
 
 "Ah yes, the dear Baron. Perhaps it is better." 
 
 Fitz took the cloak from the hands of the lady, but
 
 126 MRS. FITZ 
 
 before he could place it around his wife's shoulders 
 voices were heard at the far end of the long room. 
 
 Three men had entered. 
 
 The first of these to approach us was a tall, stout 
 and florid personage wearing full Court dress and so 
 many decorations that he looked like a caricature. 
 Certainly he was a magnificent figure of a man, but at 
 this moment a little lacking in serenity. His face 
 showed traces of a consternation that would have been 
 almost comic had it not been rather painful. At the 
 sight of the six of us he spread out his hands and 
 gesticulated to those who had come with him into the 
 room. 
 
 In an undertone he said something in Illyrian, which 
 I did not understand. 
 
 In striking contrast to the perturbation of the Am- 
 bassador, the manner of the Princess was as amiable 
 and composed as if she were seated in the castle at 
 Blaenau. 
 
 "Ah, Baron, you have dined well?" 
 
 "Excellently madam, excellently!" said the Ambas- 
 sador. The consternation in his face was slowly deep- 
 ening. 
 
 "Tres bien; it is well. I have heard my father say 
 that cooking was the only art in which the good English 
 are not quite perfect. And le bon roi Edouard, I hope 
 he is in good health?" 
 
 "In robust health, madam, in robust health." 
 
 The dismay in the eyes of the Ambassador was rather 
 tragic. His gaze was travelling constantly to meet 
 that of his two companions, stolid men who yet were
 
 THE MAN OF DESTINY 127 
 
 at a loss to conceal their uneasiness. On the other 
 hand, the air of the Princess was charmingly cool and 
 degage. 
 
 "Baron," said she, "do you know my husband?" 
 
 Her smile, as she spoke, acquired a malice that made 
 one think of a sword. 
 
 "Madam, I have not the privilege," said the Ambas- 
 sador coldly. 
 
 Somehow the manner of the reply gave one an en- 
 larged idea of his Excellency's calibre. If in such a 
 situation it is permissible for a humble spectator to 
 speak of himself, I felt my throat tighten and my heart 
 begin to beat. 
 
 "Well, Baron," said the Princess, "it is a privilege 
 that I am sure you covet. His Excellency the Herr 
 Baron von Arlenberg, my dear father's representative 
 in England, Mr. Nevil Fitzwaren, squire of Broadfields, 
 in the County of Middleham." 
 
 The Ambassador bowed gravely and then held out 
 his hand. 
 
 Fitz returned the bow of Ferdinand the Twelfth's 
 representative slightly and curtly, but ignored his hand 
 altogether.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 FURTHER PASSAGES AT NO. 300 PORTLAND 
 PLACE 
 
 THE Princess was amused. 
 
 "Aha, les Anglais! Tres bon enfants!" 
 
 The royal eyebrows had an uplift of mischievous 
 pleasure. 
 
 "And this, dear Baron," said her Royal Highness, 
 "is my good friend Colonel Coverdale, who has smelt 
 powder in the wars of his country." 
 
 Fitz's open rudeness seemed to help the Ambassador 
 to sustain his poise. He bowed and offered his hand 
 to the Chief Constable in a fashion precisely similar to 
 that he had used to the husband of the Princess. 
 
 The Chief Constable shook hands with the Ambas- 
 sador. It was amusing to observe the manner in which 
 each of these big dogs looked over the other. The 
 representative of Ferdinand the Twelfth was a man of 
 greater calibre than his first appearance had led us to 
 believe. 
 
 "It is pleasant, madam," said he, "to find you sur- 
 rounded by your English friends." 
 
 The dark eyes brimmed with meaning. 
 
 "Confess, Baron, that you did not think I had so 
 many." 
 
 128
 
 FURTHER PASSAGES 129 
 
 "Your Royal Highness is not kind to my intelli- 
 gence," said his Excellency. 
 
 "Confess, then, you did not think that such was their 
 courage?" 
 
 "I will perjure myself if your Royal Highness desires 
 it." The Ambassador's laugh was not so gay in effect 
 as it was in intention. "But could I believe that you 
 would admit any save the bravest to your friendship?" 
 
 "Then you recognise, Baron, that my friends are 
 brave?" 
 
 "Unquestionably, madam, they are brave." 
 
 "Explain then, Baron, why you did not guard the 
 doors of my prison? For what reason, when you went 
 out to dine this evening, did you forget to lock them 
 and put the keys in your pocket?" 
 
 Before the subtle laughter in the eyes of his ques- 
 tioner the Ambassador lowered his gaze. 
 
 "I trust your Royal Highness does not feel that one 
 of the oldest, if one of the humblest, servants of the 
 good King, has so little regard for your Royal High- 
 ness as to seek to debar her from the simplest of 
 pleasures ?" 
 
 "It has not occurred to your Excellency that that 
 of which you speak as the simplest of pleasures may 
 prove for yourself the greatest of calamities?" 
 
 At this point the Ambassador was tempted to dis- 
 semble. 
 
 "I am at a loss, madam, to read your thoughts." 
 
 "Liar!" muttered Fitz in my ear. 
 
 "Your Excellency appears to have a store of natural 
 simplicity," said the Princess.
 
 130 MRS. FITZ 
 
 The Ambassador bowed. 
 
 "Is it not a great thing to have, madam, in these 
 days?" 
 
 "Has it not occurred to your Excellency that it is 
 a luxury that those who would serve their Sovereign 
 occasionally deny themselves?" 
 
 "If it pleases your Royal Highness to exercise your 
 delightful wit at the expense of the humblest servant 
 of the good King !" 
 
 "It does not please me, Excellency. It grieves me 
 to the heart." 
 
 With an address that was remarkable the Princess 
 changed her tone. Quite suddenly the clear and mellow 
 inflection of light banter was exchanged for one of 
 coldly-wrought reproof. 
 
 "I am sorry, madam," said the Ambassador simply 
 and with sincerity; "I am a thousand times sorry. I 
 can never forgive myself if I have wounded the suscepti- 
 bilities of your Royal Highness. Already I had hoped 
 I had made it clear that the least of your servants has 
 not been a free agent in all that has been done. I am 
 the humble instrument of an august master." 
 
 "I agree with you, Herr Baron, that the King in his 
 wisdom cannot do wrong. But it is because you have 
 betrayed the service of your master that I am un- 
 happy." 
 
 The Herr Baron lowered his eyes. 
 
 "Please God," he said humbly, "the least of the King's 
 servants will never betray the service of him to whom 
 he owes everything." 
 
 The Princess laughed, a little cruelly.
 
 FURTHER PASSAGES 131 
 
 "Speeches, Baron," said she. 
 
 "Will your Royal Highness deign to explain in what 
 manner I have betrayed the service of my master?" 
 
 "If you press the question, I will answer it. At the 
 command of the King, you take me by force and you im- 
 prison me in your house until that hour in which I can 
 be removed to the Castle at Blaenau. And then in an 
 unlucky moment, you open the door of my cage, and I 
 am once again a free person in the company of my 
 friends." 
 
 The Princess rose abruptly and with a disdain that 
 was like a rapier suffered Fitz to place the cloak about 
 her shoulders. 
 
 The Ambassador retained his self-possession. In his 
 bearing, in the cold lustre of his eyes, in the rigidity 
 of the jaw, were the evidences of an inflexible will. 
 
 "The orders, madam, of the King, my master, are 
 explicit," he said in a low voice. "It grieves me bit- 
 terly that I cannot suffer them to be set aside." 
 
 "So be it, Herr Baron." The great dark eyes of the 
 Princess transfixed the Ambassador like a pair of 
 swords. 
 
 In the midst of these passages Fitz reassumed his 
 role of generalissimo. 
 
 "Arbuthnot," he whispered to me, "you and Brasset 
 and Vane-Anstruther guard the farthest door. Let no 
 one enter or pass out. Coverdale and O'Mulligan will 
 look after the other one." 
 
 In silence and without ostentation, we disposed our- 
 selves accordingly. Clearly it had not occurred to the 
 Ambassador to expect compulsion to be levied in his
 
 132 MRS. FITZ 
 
 own house, by half a dozen commonplace civilians in 
 black coats. 
 
 We had hardly taken up our places when Fitz, who 
 stood by the side of the Princess, received from her 
 a look that was also a command. Thereupon for the 
 first time, he deigned to address the Ambassador. 
 
 "Baron von Arlenberg," he said, "the friends of her 
 Royal Highness have no wish to use force majeure, but 
 her Royal Highness desires me to inform you that she 
 has it at her disposal. All the same, she is hopeful that 
 your natural good sense will spare her the necessity of 
 employing it." 
 
 Fitz's words were well spoken, but his tone, scrupu- 
 lously restrained as it was, had an undercurrent of 
 menace that the Ambassador and his two secretaries 
 could hardly fail to detect. The cold eyes of his Ex- 
 cellency seemed to blaze with fury, but he made no 
 reply. 
 
 The Princess took the arm of her husband, and 
 moved a pace in the direction of the farther door. At 
 the same moment the Ambassador made a movement 
 to the left where a bell rope hung from the wall. 
 
 "Baron von Arlenberg," said Fitz in a tone that 
 compelled him to stay where he was ; "if you touch that 
 rope I shall blow out your brains." 
 
 Fitz had the revolver in his hand already. He cov- 
 ered the Ambassador imperturbably. The two secre- 
 taries, although confused by the swiftness of the act, 
 moved forward. 
 
 "Keep away from the bell rope, gentlemen," said 
 Fitz. "I shall not hesitate."
 
 FURTHER PASSAGES 133 
 
 The secretaries halted indecisively beside their chief, 
 and as they did so, Coverdale left his post by the nearer 
 door, and revolver in hand, solemnly mounted guard 
 over the bell rope. 
 
 "I am afraid, gentlemen," said Fitz, "you have no 
 choice other than to respect the wishes of the Princess. 
 And she desires that you stay in this room until she 
 has left the Embassy." 
 
 However, with all his coolness, Fitz had made two 
 important miscalculations. On the right there was 
 another bell rope and there was also the lady of the 
 silver hair, the Margravine of Lesser Grabia. I sprang 
 from my post, and literally wrenched the rope from her 
 fingers, but not before she had pulled it as hard as she 
 could. 
 
 Escorted by Fitz, the Princess passed out of the 
 room, while the friends of her Royal Highness assumed 
 an aspect of quiet but determined hostility, in order 
 to prevent the Ambassador, his secretaries, the Mar- 
 gravine who looked furious, and the fair player of 
 Schumann, who appeared to be consumed with mirth, 
 from following her. 
 
 Hardly had the Princess passed through the farther 
 door, which Brasset and Jodey had the honour of hold- 
 ing for her, before the Countess Etta von Zweidelheim 
 collapsed upon a convenient sofa. 
 
 "It is better than Offenbach!" she said, beginning 
 to weep softly. 
 
 Whether it was actually better than Offenbach, I 
 am not competent to affirm, but I can answer for it 
 that for all except that charming but risible lady it
 
 134 MRS. FITZ 
 
 was a great deal more serious. The Ambassador was 
 a brave man, and he had strength of will, but as becomes 
 one of his calling he was in no sense a fool. He had seen 
 that in the eyes of Fitz which had assured him that a 
 too-punctilious regard for the will of his Sovereign 
 would not only be futile, but indiscreet. And no sooner 
 had Fitz and the royal lady vanished from his ken, than 
 there were Coverdale and the rest of us to contend with. 
 
 The Chief Constable with his back to the wall, even 
 without a firearm in his stolid fist, is a very considerable 
 figure of a man who will not brook nonsense from any- 
 body. Then Alexander O'Mulligan, by the farther 
 door, had a personality by no means deficient in per- 
 suasiveness. 
 
 Scarcely had the Princess departed before O'Mulli- 
 gan's door was tried from without. The amateur mid- 
 dle weight champion of Great Britain set his back 
 against it with great success. 
 
 "Help! help!" called the Margravine in a deep bay 
 which it seemed to our alarmed ears must have been 
 audible for half a mile. "Save the Princess! Help! 
 Help!" 
 
 In response to the appeal, a greater and ever-increas- 
 ing pressure was brought to bear upon the door. The 
 hinges groaned, and the panels trembled; and at last 
 Alexander O'Mulligan suddenly withdrew his weight, 
 and divers persons tumbled headlong, one over another, 
 pell mell into the room. 
 
 "I think we had better go," said Coverdale, in the 
 midst of this chaos. 
 
 The five remaining champions of the Princess's free-
 
 FURTHER PASSAGES 135 
 
 dom gathered together, and, their weapons still in hand, 
 withdrew in excellent order. But one resplendent apart- 
 ment led to another, equally resplendent, and amid the 
 labyrinth of doors and corridors, we could not find the 
 staircase. And immediately behind us the outraged 
 Ambassador and his retinue were gaining every instant 
 in numbers and morale. 
 
 The situation was ludicrous, yet not without its peril. 
 It was hard to know what would happen, and there was 
 very little time in which to form a conjecture. Besides 
 it was of great importance that we should find our way 
 downstairs without delay, for our presence there might 
 be sorely needed. 
 
 As it happened, our thanks were due to the Ambas- 
 sador, that we were able to find the staircase. For he 
 and a number of excited persons flocked past us and 
 pointed a direct course thereto. They got down first, 
 but we followed hard upon their heels. 
 
 On the ground floor all was peace. The men in livery 
 and divers stray officials were serenely unconscious of 
 what had occurred. Fitz had donned his overcoat, and 
 with stupendous coolness was preparing to depart. 
 Just as the Ambassador came into view, he led the Prin- 
 cess into the outer vestibule. 
 
 "They can't stop 'em now," said Coverdale. "We 
 had better look after our coats and hats, and then find 
 our way to the Savoy." 
 
 This was true enough, for the door leading to the 
 street was already open. 
 
 Waiting by the kerb was an electric brougham which 
 Fitz had had the forethought to provide. Coverdale
 
 136 MRS. FITZ 
 
 and I retrieved our property from the waiting room 
 at the foot of the staircase, while the others went in 
 search of theirs ; and so quickly was this accomplished, 
 that we were able to witness an incident that was not 
 the least memorable of the many of that amazing 
 evening. 
 
 The Ambassador realised that the game was lost as 
 soon as he saw the open door and the brougham in 
 readiness. Therefore he refrained from passing be- 
 yond the inner vestibule. It is expected of an ambas- 
 sador that he shall do no hurt to his dignity in the most 
 exacting situations. 
 
 But there is an astonishing incident still to be re- 
 corded. Fitz having placed the Princess in safety in 
 the brougham, returned into the house. Walking 
 straight up to the Ambassador, he addressed him in 
 terms of measured insult. 
 
 "You cowardly dog," he said. "I would shoot you 
 like a cur if it were not for the laws of the country. 
 You are not worth hanging for. But I will meet you at 
 Paris at the first opportunity. Here is my card." 
 
 Before he could be prevented he gave the Ambassador 
 a blow upon the cheek with his open hand. It was not 
 heavy, but it was premeditated. 
 
 The members of the Embassy closed around Fitz. 
 
 "Come into the ballroom, sir," said the Ambassador, 
 who had turned deadly pale. 
 
 "When I have seen the Princess into safety, I will 
 oblige you," said Fitz. "But it would be more con- 
 venient if we arranged a meeting at Paris." 
 
 "You shall meet me now, sir," said the Ambassador.
 
 FURTHER PASSAGES 137 
 
 Coverdale moved forward into the circle that had 
 been formed. 
 
 "I am afraid that is impossible," said the Chief Con- 
 stable. "The practice of duelling has no sanction in 
 this country. For all concerned, it will surely be more 
 convenient to meet at Paris." 
 
 Coverdale's intention was pacific, and he is a man 
 of weight, but the principals in this affair were likely 
 to be too much for him. 
 
 "Arbuthnot," said Fitz, "be good enough to accom- 
 pany the Princess to the Savoy. We will come on 
 presently." 
 
 For a moment the issue hung in the balance. The 
 Ambassador had demanded satisfaction and Fitz was 
 more than willing to grant it. But Coverdale was 
 equally resolute. To the best of my capacity I sec- 
 onded his efforts, but with men so headstrong and im- 
 placable it was almost impossible to exert any kind of 
 authority. 
 
 "If you don't care to support me," said Fitz, to 
 Coverdale, "perhaps you will not mind taking the place 
 of Arbuthnot. I daresay you other fellows will come 
 on to the ballroom." 
 
 To our dismay, Fitz, with a reassumption of the 
 Napoleonic manner, turned toward the staircase. 
 
 "What is to be done?" I 'inquired of the Chief Con- 
 stable anxiously. "I am a man of peace myself, but 
 one of us must see him through." 
 
 "I agree with you the cursed firebrand ! But one 
 of us must stay, and the other must look after the 
 Princess."
 
 138 MRS. FITZ 
 
 The Chief Constable did not conceal the fact that he 
 had a predilection for the latter duty. 
 
 "I don't know much about affairs of honour," said 
 I, "and I should greatly prefer that a man of more 
 experience took a thing like this in hand; but I can 
 quite believe that your official position " 
 
 "Official position be damned!" said the Chief Con- 
 stable. "If you honestly think I shall be of more use 
 than you, there is no more to be said. We are here to 
 make ourselves useful and we must see this thing 
 through." 
 
 "Very well, I will look after the Princess, and you 
 go to the ballroom and do what you can to save the 
 situation."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 A DEPLORABLE INCIDENT 
 
 IT WAS with a feeling akin to despair that I saw 
 Coverdale follow the others up the stairs. In the first 
 place my own position was invidious. But there was 
 nothing to be done. It was beyond question that Fitz 
 must have a tried man like Coverdale at his elbow, whilst 
 also it was necessary that a person with some preten- 
 sions to responsibility should take charge of the lady 
 who was safely outside in the electric brougham. Yet, 
 uppermost in my thoughts, was a more insistent care. 
 The affair had taken a very ugly turn. Fitz had shown 
 himself to be a man who did not stick at trifles, whilst 
 von Arlenberg, unless his manner belied him, was cast in 
 a similar mould. 
 
 It was therefore with some uneasiness, that I went 
 to offer my services to her Royal Highness. That 
 distinguished personage was seated greatly at her ease, 
 yet with a slight frown upon her somewhat imperious 
 countenance. 
 
 "Where is Nefil?" said she. 
 
 "I have to tell you, ma'am," said I, "that Mr. Fitz- 
 waren is er discussing certain important matters 
 with his Excellency, and that if it is agreeable to you 
 he desires me to accompany you to your hotel." 
 
 139
 
 140 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "What are the matters?" Her gaze in its directness 
 seemed to pass right through me. 
 
 "There are er certain details that have to be ad- 
 justed." 
 
 "Well I hope Nefil will be able to shoot straight." 
 
 Whether I was more taken aback by the cynicism of 
 the remark or by its sagacity, it would be fruitless to 
 inquire. But to this pious hope I had nothing to add ; 
 and I stood feeling decidedly uncomfortable at the door 
 of the car. There was no room in front by the side of 
 the chauffeur, and I had received no invitation to take 
 a seat within. 
 
 The pause was awkward, but somehow there seemed 
 to be no help for it. 
 
 "Well?" said the lady, not without a suspicion of 
 acerbity. 
 
 Even that I could not take for an invitation to get 
 in. I stood acutely conscious that my embarrassment 
 told against me. 
 
 "Aha, les Anglais!" The malice was not too genial. 
 "Would you haf me open the door?" 
 
 I told the chauffeur to drive to the Savoy, and took 
 the proffered seat by the side of the Crown Princess of 
 Illyria. 
 
 The discovery has no claim to be original, but in 
 order to find out what a woman really is, one should sit 
 with her alone and tete-a-tete. The opportunity for 
 frankness is not likely to be neglected upon either side, 
 since a display of that engaging quality upon the one 
 part seems automatically to evoke it on the other. 
 
 No sooner was I seated by the side of Mrs. Fitz than
 
 A DEPLORABLE INCIDENT 141 
 
 I felt more at ease. She was so sentient, so responsive ; 
 a creature who, beneath the trenchant reserve of her 
 manner, was alive in every nerve. 
 
 She patted my knees with her fan. 
 
 "Aha, Us Anglais!" In the light of the lamps, I 
 thought her eyes were like stars. "So brave, so honest 
 and so bete I love them all!" 
 
 The spell of her presence seemed to overpower me. 
 
 "My brave Nefil will kill him, will he not?" 
 
 "I fear," said I, "that one of them will not see to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Indeed, yes ; it cannot be otherwise." 
 
 Her calmness amazed me. And yet there was nothing 
 callous or unnatural in it. Perhaps it might be de- 
 scribed as the outward expression of an imperial nature. 
 At least that was the impression that I gained. When 
 her servants drew their swords in her cause they must 
 not look for a prick in the arm. Let them prepare to 
 stake their lives and to yield them gladly. I shivered 
 slightly; it was barbarous that a woman could thus 
 offer the father of her children to the gods, yet it was 
 sublime. 
 
 All too soon we arrived at the restaurant where Fitz 
 had ordered supper for seven. The place was filling 
 up rapidly after the theatres. We sat on a sofa in the 
 foyer to wait for our party; I, with an acute anxiety 
 and a sense of foreboding that held me tongue-tied; 
 my companion, with a detachment of mind that in the 
 circumstances seemed almost inhuman. For her sake 
 a man was being done to death ; one whom she loved, or 
 one whom her father honoured. But whatever Fate's
 
 142 MRS. FITZ 
 
 decree, her nature was schooled to the point of sab- 
 mission. 
 
 Seated by my side in the foyer, she subjected the 
 throng of returning playgoers to a frankly humorous 
 and malicious scrutiny. These English who were so 
 bete amused her vastly. The clothes they wore, the airs 
 they gave themselves, the things they did and the things 
 they refrained from doing, not a detail escaped that 
 audaciously frank, that alertly curious intelligence. 
 
 "Your women are not as you, you fine, big English 
 good dogs," she said, bestowing another indulgent pat 
 upon my knees. "Les Anglaises, how prim and pinched 
 they are, what dresses they wear, and how they do walk ! 
 But I adore vos jolis hommes; was ever such distinc- 
 tion, such charm, such stupidity ! M on pere shall have 
 an English regiment. I will raise it myself, and be its 
 colonel." 
 
 Her laughter was deep and rich and full of malice. 
 Even I, stupid and stricken with fear as I was, was 
 yet sufficiently indiscreet to attempt to seize the oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 "It will be the easiest thing in the world, ma'am* 
 Have you not raised it already?" 
 
 Another indulgent pat was my reward. 
 
 "Tres bon enfant! Quel esprit! You shall sit by 
 my side when we eat." 
 
 Her ridicule had a velvet sheath, but even an Eng- 
 lishman, who felt as miserably ineffectual as did I, 
 was susceptible of the thrust. 
 
 It is difficult for the average Briton, acutely conscious 
 that he is enduring the patronage of a superior, to be
 
 A DEPLORABLE INCIDENT 143 
 
 easy, graceful and natural in his bearing; to say the 
 appropriate things in the appropriate way, and to 
 carry off the situation lightly. Every moment that I 
 sat by the side of her Royal Highness in the centre of 
 the public gaze, I felt my position to be growing more 
 invidious. The pose of my companion seemed to be- 
 come more Olympian ; while if I ventured a half-hearted 
 riposte or a timid pleasantry, I suffered for it; or if 
 I remained silent and respectful, and that after all is 
 the only course to take in the presence of our betters, 
 I furnished an additional example of the heaviness of 
 my countrymen. 
 
 I came to the conclusion that the less I said the better 
 it would fare with my over-sensitive dignity, but even 
 the utterance of an occasional monosyllable did not save 
 me. 
 
 "When I hear the big dogs growl, the English mas- 
 teefs, I say to myself, 'Ah, the dear fellows, how ex- 
 cellently they speak the language !' ' 
 
 Unless one springs from the Chosen Race, it takes 
 more than three generations to produce a courtier. I 
 felt myself to be growing stiffer and generally more 
 infelicitous in my demeanour. And then, as if to com- 
 plete my overthrow, there entered the foyer, a supper- 
 party, whose appearance on the scene I could only 
 regard with horror. 
 
 Who has not felt that among the astral bodies there 
 is a malign power, a kind of Court Dramatist, who 
 arranges sinister coincidences and mischievous surprises 
 for us humble denizens below, in order to divert the 
 privileged onlookers sitting in heaven. The supper-
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 party which came into our midst, which looked as 
 though it had been to see "The Importance of Being 
 Earnest," and had been shocked by its reprehensible 
 levity, consisted of Dumbarton, our illustrious neigh- 
 bour, "dear Evelyn" high of coiffure, and robed in 
 pink satin, the august Mrs. Catesby, and the highly 
 respectable George, with one or two others of minor 
 importance as far as this narrative is concerned, 
 although in other spheres not prone to yield pride of 
 place to anybody. 
 
 It was clear from the rigid, slow and undeviating man- 
 ner in which the ducal party walked past our sofa, that 
 we were discovered. Mrs. Catesby, in particular, gazed 
 down her nose with really awful solemnity ; George, the 
 highly respectable, wearing his Quarter Sessions ex- 
 pression ; Dumbarton, looking like a Royal Duke 
 painted in oils; and "dear Evelyn," his pink-robed 
 spouse, a really admirable picture of what can be 
 achieved in the way of high-bred hauteur. I can only 
 say, that speaking for myself, I addressed a humble 
 prayer to heaven, that the floor might open and let me 
 through. 
 
 A chill of apprehension settled upon me. I sat very 
 close, not daring to move an eyelid. 
 
 Alas ! as the procession filed past, there arose a note 
 of derision ; a clear, resonant, bell-like note. 
 
 "Ach, pink! Pink in dis climate and wis dat com- 
 plexion !" 
 
 Even the chef de reception was compelled to follow 
 the example of Mrs. Catesby of looking down his nose 
 with really awful solemnity.
 
 A DEPLORABLE INCIDENT 145 
 
 The sweat sprang to my miserable forehead. I never 
 have a nightmare now without I dream of pink satin. 
 The ducal party passed beyond our ken, leaving me 
 shattered utterly and more than ever at the mercy of 
 my companion. However, to my relief, "The Stormy 
 Petrel" began to betray a care in regard to her hus- 
 band. It began to seem that the aim of his adversary 
 had been the straighter. 
 
 Fitz was certainly a desperate fellow, and my inter- 
 course with the lady whom he had prevailed upon to 
 share his name, rendered that aspect of his character 
 the more clear. What enormous grit the man must 
 have to abduct such a lioness and to attempt to keep 
 house with her upon a basis of equality. But had he 
 met his overthrow at last? Had he tempted fate once 
 too often? The hands of the clock were creeping on 
 towards midnight. 
 
 "Nefil has missed his aim." The voice of the Prin- 
 cess trembled. 
 
 Almost immediately, however, this was proved to be 
 not the case. There were further arrivals in the foyer ; 
 five men entered together, and the first of these was 
 Fitz. 
 
 It may have been the fault of my overwrought fancy, 
 but it seemed to me that each of the five was looking 
 excited and pale. My companion rose to receive them. 
 
 "It is well," she said. "It is well." She turned to 
 Fitz who looked ghastly, and extended her hand with a 
 gesture that I can only compare to that of Medusa. 
 
 Fitz bore the hand to his lips.
 
 146 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "What happened?" I said to Coverdale in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 "Don't ask!" he said, half turning away. 
 
 "Do you mean " I said ; but the sentence died in 
 
 my throat. 
 
 The invasion of the supper room was a pretty grave 
 ordeal to have to face. The stress of that day, woven 
 of the very tissue of excitement, had told upon me ; and 
 again I was in the grip of a nameless fear. Instead of 
 following in the train of Mrs. Fitz into the glare of a 
 too notorious publicity, I wanted to run away and hide 
 myself. 
 
 The room was crowded with people who were there 
 to see and to be seen. We had to make our way past 
 a number of tables to one reserved for us at the far end 
 of the room. In the middle of our progress, like a lion 
 in the gate, was the ducal party toying elegantly with 
 quails and champagne. 
 
 Each member of her Royal Highness's bodyguard, 
 including the indomitable O'Mulligan, was looking 
 downcast and unhappy and far from his best. But the 
 lady herself, in bearing and in manner, made no secret 
 of her status. She was the Heiress-Apparent to 
 Europe's oldest monarchy condescending to eat in the 
 midst of barbarians. 
 
 It was clear that the ducal party was fully deter- 
 mined to take an extreme course. By the animation of 
 its conversation and its assiduous regard for quails and 
 champagne, it evidently hoped to make the fact quite 
 plain that our privacy would be respected if only we had 
 the decency to extend a like indulgence to theirs.
 
 A DEPLORABLE INCIDENT 147 
 
 Alas ! in certain kinds of warfare there are no 
 sanctities. 
 
 "Ach, pink !" said Mrs. Fitz, in that voice which had 
 such a terrible quality of penetration. "Can anyone 
 tell me iuhy pink " 
 
 The nervous fancy of a married man, a father of a 
 family and a county member seemed to detect a titter 
 from the adjoining tables. Coverdale pressed forward 
 sombrely. Her Royal Highness, instinct with a ruth- 
 less and humorous disdain, went forward too. Fitz 
 however, lingered a moment, and touched his distin- 
 guished neighbour upon the shoulder with incredible 
 Napoleonic heartiness. 
 
 "Hullo, Duke!" he said. 
 
 "How are you, Fitzwaren?" said the great man, in 
 a voice that seemed to come out of his shoes. 
 
 "Never mind the Missus!" said the Man of Destiny 
 with a comic half-cock of the left eye at the patrician 
 aspect of her Grace. "It's only her fun." 
 
 The man's effrontery, his cynicism, his absence of 
 taste were staggering. But what a sublime courage 
 the fellow had. On he sauntered with his hands buried 
 in his pockets, in the wake of Coverdale and her Royal 
 Highness. Brasset and I, walking delicately, were 
 crowding upon his heels, when what can only be de- 
 scribed as a peremptory and insistent hiss recalled us 
 to the danger zone. 
 
 "Reggie ! Odo Arbuthnot !" 
 
 We proffered a forlorn salute to the most august of 
 her sex. 
 
 "Beg pardon, Mrs. Catesby, didn't see you, y'know."
 
 148 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Brasset's apologetic feebleness was in singular and pain- 
 ful contrast to the epic breadth of the inconceivable 
 Fitz. 
 
 "Don't dare to offer me a word, either of you," said 
 the Great Lady, in a whisper of Homeric truculence. 
 "You are committing the act of social suicide. When 
 I think of your mother, Reggie, and of your wife and 
 daughter, Odo Arbuthnot, I but I will say nothing. 
 But it is social suicide for all of you, including that 
 fatuous police constable. 
 
 The flesh cannot endure more than a given amount 
 of suffering, although the measure of its capacity is so 
 terrible. But whatever it was, I was already past it. 
 
 "Pink is certainly a trying colour," I whispered. 
 
 "Dear Evelyn will never forgive it. Have none of 
 you a sense of decency? It is madness!" 
 
 I agreed that it was, and retreated limply to the 
 next table but two. 
 
 Our supper party should have been a dismal func- 
 tion, but somehow it was not. It was only reasonable 
 to assume that some fell occurrence had taken place 
 at the Embassy, but whatever its nature was, its wit- 
 nesses began to pull themselves together under the mag- 
 netic influence of Mrs. Fitz. Her imperious gaiety, if 
 it did not wholly banish Coverdale's abysmal gloom, did 
 much to make it less. As for the other members of the 
 party, conscience-stricken and uneasy at heart as they 
 were, it was impossible not to respond to her power. 
 
 Even the Master of Crackanthorpe, whose sense of 
 humour is of a decidedly primitive order, indulged in 
 a loud guffaw at one of her pungent remarks.
 
 A DEPLORABLE INCIDENT 149 
 
 "Restrain yourself, my dear fellow, for heaven's 
 sake !" I admonished him. "Dumbarton is already look- 
 ing like doom. Your presence here has already cost 
 the poultry fund fifty pounds, see if it hasn't. If he 
 hears you laugh in that way he will close his covers and 
 stick up wire." 
 
 "Don't care what he does!" said the Master of the 
 Crackanthorpe, with an unnatural brightness in his 
 eyes. 
 
 The siren had indeed a terrible power. The imper- 
 ious glance, the distended nostril, the mobile lips, the 
 skin of gleaming olive, the whole figure vivid with the 
 entrancing charm of sex and the romance of ages 
 who were we, les hommes moyens sensuels, that we 
 should have the strength of soul to resist it all? Nature 
 had fashioned a sorceress ; and when she takes the 
 trouble to do that, she bestows, as a rule, a conscious- 
 ness of power upon her chosen instrument, and the 
 determination to wield it ruthlessly. We drained our 
 glasses and basked in her smiles. 
 
 Our laughter waxed higher; our joy in her presence 
 the more unguarded. I retained discretion enough to 
 be aware that no detail of our conduct was lost upon 
 the august party two tables away. Every guffaw of 
 which we were guilty would be used against us. What 
 had happened to the impeccable tradition of reticence 
 and right thinking that men of known probity should 
 yield with this publicity to the blandishments of a queen 
 of the sawdust? 
 
 It was a desperately unlucky position; but we were 
 committed to it irrevocably. Nothing now could save
 
 150 MRS. FITZ 
 
 our good name among our neighbours. Yet that half 
 hour after midnight was crowded and glorious. Who 
 were we, weak-willed mediocrities, that we should resist 
 the moment? After the passes we had braved in the 
 service of one so splendid and so ill-starred, after the 
 long-drawn suspense we had endured, could we be insen- 
 sible to the gay music, half-affectionate, half-insolent, 
 of our names upon her lips ? 
 
 Coverdale sat by the right of the sorceress, I by the 
 left responsible men yet even with the Gorgon ; s eye 
 of the Great Lady upon us, we were fain to publish to 
 the world that we were neither less nor more than the 
 bond-slaves of the circus rider from Vienna.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL ISSUE 
 
 BY a merciful dispensation, the ducal party with- 
 drew at twenty-five minutes past twelve, doubtless to 
 avert the ignominy of compulsion at the half -hour. By 
 that means we were at least spared any further ordeal 
 that might be forthcoming from that quarter. And 
 yet would it have been an ordeal? That conflict which 
 a little while ago had seemed so demoralising to the 
 overwrought nerves, was now only too likely to be 
 hailed as the sublimity of battle. 
 
 We were loth to obey the inexorable decree of the 
 Licensing Act, but there was no choice. Happily the 
 five minutes' start enjoyed by our friends and neigh- 
 bours, gave us a clear field; and without further mis- 
 adventure, "The Stormy Petrel" was escorted to her 
 chariot. She drove off with Fitz to her hotel, while the 
 rest of us, in no humour for repose, yielded to the sug- 
 gestion of Alexander O'Mulligan, "that we should 
 toddle round to Jermyn Street and draw him for a 
 drink." 
 
 It hsd begun to freeze. Although the pavements 
 were like glass, overhead the stars were wonderful. 
 The shrewd air was like a balm for the fumes of the 
 wine and the spirit of lawlessness that had aroused us 
 
 151
 
 152 MRS. FITZ 
 
 to a pitch of exaltation that was almost dangerous. 
 We decided to walk, if only to lessen the tension upon 
 our nerves. The three junior members of the con- 
 spiracy walked ahead, a little roisterous of aspect, arm 
 in arm, uncertain of gait to be sure the condition of 
 the streets afforded every excuse and their hats askew. 
 At a respectful distance and in a fashion more decorous 
 they were followed by the Chief Constable and myself. 
 
 "And now, Coverdale," said I, "have the goodness 
 to explain what you meant when you told me not to 
 ask what happened to the Ambassador?" 
 
 I received no answer. 
 
 "My dear fellow," I urged, "I think I am entitled 
 to know." 
 
 "You ought to be able to guess !" 
 
 "I don't understand ; Fitz is certainly safe and sound. 
 How did you manage to bring them to reason ?" 
 
 "They were not brought to reaeon." 
 
 The grim tone alarmed me. 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 I stopped under a street lamp to look into the face 
 of my companion. 
 
 "I simply mean this," said he. "The madman shot 
 him dead!" 
 
 Involuntarily I reeled against the lamp post. 
 
 "You can't mean that," I said feebly. 
 
 "If only we could deceive ourselves !" said Coverdale, 
 in a hoarse tone. "All the time I sat at supper with 
 that that woman I was trying to persuade myself that 
 the thing had not happened. The whole business ought 
 to be a fantastic dream, but, my God, it isn't !"
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL ISSUE 153 
 
 "Well, it was his life or Fitz's, I suppose?" 
 
 "Yes, there can be no question about that. The Em- 
 bassy people admit it. And there is this to be said for 
 those fellows ; they know how to play the game." 
 
 "A pretty low down game anyhow. If they steal a 
 man's wife, they must take the consequences." 
 
 "I agree; but the circumstances were exceptional. 
 And give those fellows their due, as soon as we came 
 to the ballroom they played the game right up." 
 
 "What will happen?" 
 
 "No one can say; but they can be trusted to give 
 nothing away." 
 
 "But surely the whole thing must come out?" 
 
 "Quite possibly ; but one prefers to hope that it may 
 not. It is a very ugly affair, involving international 
 issues ; but the First Secretary I forget his name 
 appeared to take a very matter of fact and common- 
 sense view of it. After all, Fitzwaren has merely vindi- 
 cated his rights." 
 
 Dismally enough we followed in the wake of the 
 others. All day we had been hovering between tragedy 
 and farce, never quite knowing what would be the out- 
 come of the extravaganza in which we were bearing a 
 part. But now we had the answer with no uncertainty. 
 
 "All along, some such sequel as this was to be feared," 
 said I, "and yet I fail to see that any real blame at- 
 taches to us." 
 
 "Do you! If you ask my opinion, we have all been 
 guilty of unpardonable folly in backing this fellow, 
 Fitzwaren. Really, I can't think what we have been 
 about. Before the last has been heard of this business,
 
 154 MRS. FITZ 
 
 it strikes me that there will be the devil to pay all 
 round." 
 
 In my heart I felt only too clearly that this was 
 the truth. 
 
 At O'Mulligan's rooms we drank out of long glasses 
 and were accorded the privilege of inspecting his 
 "pots." The trophies of the amateur middle weight 
 champion of Great Britain, who claimed Dublin as his 
 natal city, made an extremely brave array. But neither 
 they nor the refreshment that was offered to us were 
 able to dispel the gloom that had descended upon one 
 and all. 
 
 "There is one thing to be said for this chap, Fitz- 
 waren," said Alexander O'Mulligan, in a tone that was 
 not devoid of reverence. "He is grit all through!" 
 
 Truth there might be in this reflection, but there 
 was little consolation. Sadly we bade adieu to Alex- 
 ander O'Mulligan and went to our hotel to bed, yet not 
 to sleep. For myself, I can answer that throughout the 
 night I had dark forebodings and distorted images for 
 my bedfellows; and it was not until it was almost time 
 to rise that I was at last able to snatch a brief doze. 
 
 It was fair to assume that the slumbers of the others 
 had been equally precarious, for at ten o'clock I found 
 myself to be the first of our party at the breakfast 
 table. In a few minutes I was joined by Coverdale, 
 who carried the morning paper in his hand.- 
 
 H-J directed my attention to the obituary notice of 
 H. E. the Illyrian Ambassador who, it appeared, had 
 met his death at the Illyrian Embassy in Portland 
 Place, at 11.30 o'clock the previous evening, in pecu-
 
 AN INTERNATIONAL ISSUE 155 
 
 liarly tragic and distressing circumstances. It ap- 
 peared that his Excellency, a noted shot who took a 
 keen interest in firearms of every description, was en- 
 gaged in demonstrating to various members of the 
 Embassy certain merits in the mechanism of a new type 
 of revolver, of which his Excellency claimed to be the 
 inventor, when the weapon went off, killing the unfor- 
 tunate nobleman instantly. The brief statement of the 
 tragic event was followed by a eulogium, in which the 
 dead Ambassador's martial, political and social at- 
 tainments, and the irreparable loss, not only to his 
 sovereign, but to the polity of nations, was dealt with 
 at length. 
 
 "Those fellows have done well," said Coverdale. 
 "But I should be glad to think that the last has been 
 heard of this." 
 
 This conviction I shared with the Chief Constable, 
 but it was good to find that thus far Illyrian diplomacy 
 had proved equal to the occasion. It had the effect of 
 giving me a better appetite for breakfast, and in con- 
 sequence I ordered two boiled eggs instead of one. 
 
 There was one other item of sinister interest to be 
 found among the morning's news. In glancing over it 
 my attention was drawn to the brief account of a mys- 
 terious tragedy which had been enacted in Hyde Park 
 near the Broad Walk the previous evening between six 
 and seven o'clock. A man, who according to papers 
 found in his possession, bore the name of Ludovic Bol- 
 land, of Illyrian extraction, had been found dead with 
 a bullet wound in the brain. It was not clear whether 
 it was a case of murder or suicide. The police inclined
 
 156 MRS. FITZ 
 
 to the former opinion, but at present were not in pos- 
 session of any information capable of throwing light 
 upon the subject. 
 
 I did not reveal to Coverdale the fell suspicion that 
 I could not keep out of my thoughts. The incident of 
 the taxi following us, the foreign-looking man who had 
 entered the hotel, and Fitz's words and subsequent con- 
 duct, all conspired to form a theory that I was very loth 
 to entertain and yet from which I was unable to escape. 
 It certainly had the effect of making me profoundly 
 uncomfortable and caused the second egg I had ordered 
 to be superfluous after all. 
 
 Beyond all things now I longed to return to my 
 country home without delay. The past twenty-four 
 hours formed a page in my existence which, if impos- 
 sible to erase, I earnestly desired to forget.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 
 
 IN SPITE of the fact that Fitz had accepted Alex- 
 ander O'Mulligan's invitation to witness "Burns's do 
 with the 'Gunner' " at the National Sporting Club that 
 evening, he retrieved his motor from the garage in 
 Regent Street, wherein Illyrian diplomacy had placed 
 it, and immediately after luncheon set out for the coun- 
 try with that other item of his recovered property. 
 He was accompanied by Coverdale. The Chief Con- 
 stable seemed to feel that the peace of our county could 
 not endure if he spent another night in the metropolis. 
 He was certainly able to return in the simple conscious- 
 ness of having done his duty. Like a man and a brother 
 he had stood by a fellow Englishman in the hour of 
 his need. 
 
 To one of primitive rural instincts, such as myself, 
 London under even the most favourable conditions is 
 apt to pall. During the reaction which followed the 
 excitements of the previous night it filled me with loath- 
 ing. But I owed it to an ingrained love of veracity 
 that I should drive to Bolton Street to offer consolation 
 to my grandmother in the hour of her affliction. She 
 is a charming old lady, and she knows the world. She 
 was unaffectedly glad to see me and immediately ordered 
 
 157
 
 158 MRS. FITZ 
 
 a fire to be lit in the guest-chamber, although "she 
 really didn't know that I was in need of money." My 
 explanation that it was spontaneous natural affection 
 which had led me to seek first-hand information on the 
 perennial subject of her bronchitis, merely provoked a 
 display of the engaging scepticism that seems to flourish 
 in the hearts of old ladies of considerable private means. 
 
 At the first moment consistent with honour, to be 
 precise, on the following Monday at noon, I found 
 myself on No. 2 platform at the Grand Central. The 
 guilt of my conscience was agreeably countered by the 
 thrill of relief in my heart. I was going back to the 
 Madam and Miss Lucinda. Less than three days ago 
 long odds had been laid by an overwrought fancy that 
 I should never see them again. Howbeit, the fates in 
 their boundless leniency, had ordained that I should 
 return to tell the tale. 
 
 Yet if I must confess the truth, such havoc had been 
 worked with the delicately-hung nervous system of "a 
 married man, a father of a family and a county mem- 
 ber" that it would not have surprised me in the least, 
 even now I had taken my ticket for Middleham, to find 
 the hand of a well dressed detective laid on my shoulder, 
 or to find a revolver next my temple at the instance of 
 some sombre alien. Still these fears were hardly worthy 
 of the broad light of day or of the distinction of my 
 escort. Not only was my relation by marriage return- 
 ing with me, but he had prevailed upon the amateur 
 middle weight champion of Great Britain to accept 
 Brasset's cordial invitation that he should satisfy him- 
 self that the gentle art of chasing the fox was quite as
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 159 
 
 well understood by the Crackanthorpe Hounds as by 
 the Galway Blazers. 
 
 In the presence of Alexander O'Mulligan's epic 
 breadth of manner it was impossible for a man to take 
 pessimistic views of his destiny. If I had a suspicion 
 of the skill of a Dickens or a Thackeray I should try 
 to give that "touch of the brogue" which flavoured the 
 conversation of this paladin like a subtle condiment. 
 Attached to our express in a loose box, in the care of a 
 native of Kerry, was "an accomplished lepper" up to 
 fifteen stone, not merely the envy of the Blazers, but 
 of every man, woman, and child in the kingdom of Ire- 
 land. If his price was not three hundred of the yellow 
 boys, his owner cordially invited anybody anybody to 
 contradict him violently. 
 
 Next to Alexander O'Mulligan's horse and his 
 breadth of manner, his clothes call for mention. Their 
 cut and style must be pronounced as "sporting." In 
 particular his waistcoat was a thing of beauty. It 
 was a canary of the purest dye, forming a really 
 piquant, indeed aesthetic, contrast to the delicate tint 
 of green in his eye. The presence in that organ of 
 that genial hue is thought by some to invite the pre- 
 sumption of the worldly; but according to Joseph 
 Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther, whose humble devo- 
 tion to his hero was almost pathetic, it called for a very 
 stout fellow indeed "to try it on" with the amateur 
 middle weight champion of Great Britain. 
 
 Nevertheless, like every paladin of the great breed, 
 Alexander O'Mulligan was as gentle as he was brave. 
 He had hardly set foot in Dympsfield House, which
 
 160 MRS. FITZ 
 
 he did somewhere about tea-time on the day of his 
 arrival in our parish, before he captured the heart of 
 Miss Lucinda. He straightway assumed the role of a 
 bear with the most realistic and thrilling completeness. 
 Not only was his growl like distant thunder in the moun- 
 tains, but also he had the faculty of rolling his eyes in 
 a savage frenzy, and over and above everything else, 
 a tendency to bite your legs upon little or no provoca- 
 tion. It was not until he had promised to marry her 
 that she could be induced to part with him. 
 
 The ruler of Dympsfield House returned from 
 Doughty Bridge, Yorks., equally felicitous in her 
 health and in her temper. We dined agreeably tete-a- 
 tete with the aid of Heidsieck cuvee 1889. I reported 
 that the venerable inhabitant of Bolton Street, May- 
 fair, was supporting her affliction with her accustomed 
 grace and resignation ; and duly received the benedic- 
 tion of my parents-in-law, who in the opinion of their 
 youngest daughter had never been in more vigorous 
 health, which is no more than one expects to hear of 
 those who dedicate their lives to virtue. 
 
 I was in the act of paring an apple when Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot said with an air of detachment that was Vane- 
 Anstruther of very good quality: "By the way, has 
 anything been heard of that creature?" 
 
 "Creature, my angel?" said I. If my tone conveyed 
 anything it was that the world contained only one 
 creature, and she at that moment was balancing a piece 
 of preserved ginger on her fruit knife. 
 
 "The circus woman." 
 
 "Circus woman?" said I blandly. Our glasses were
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 161 
 
 half empty and I filled them up. "Somehow," said I, 
 "this stuff does not seem equal to the Bellinger that 
 your father sends us at Christmas." Strictly speak- 
 ing this was not altogether the case, but then truth has 
 many aspects as the pagan philosophers have found 
 occasion to observe. 
 
 "Mrs. Fitz, you goose!" 
 
 "She has come home, I believe," said I, with a casual 
 air, which all the same belonged to the region of fin- 
 ished diplomacy. 
 
 "Come home !" The fount of my felicity indulged in 
 a glower that can only be described as truculent, but 
 her flutelike tones had a little piping thrill that soft- 
 ened its effect considerably. "Come home! Do you 
 mean to say that Fitz has taken her back again?" 
 
 "There is reason to believe he has done so." 
 
 "What amazing creatures men are!" 
 
 "Yes, mon enfant, we have the authority of Haeckel, 
 that matter assumed a very remarkable guise when man 
 evolved himself out of mud and water." 
 
 "Don't be trivial, Odo. To think she has dared to 
 come home. If I were a man and my wife bolted with 
 the chauffeur, I wonder if she would dare to come home 
 again ?" 
 
 "The hypothesis is unthinkable. Freedom and poetry 
 and romance, translated into that overtaxed, down- 
 trodden bondslave, the registered and betrousered par- 
 liamentary voter!" 
 
 The next morning the Crackanthorpe met at the 
 Marl Pits. All the world and his wife were there. The 
 lawless mobs which are the curse of latter day fox-
 
 162 MRS. FITZ 
 
 hunting, are not quite so rampant in our country as 
 they are in that of more than one of our neighbours. 
 Why this merciful dispensation has been granted to us 
 no man can explain. It may be that we have not a 
 sufficient care for the "bubble reputation." But as our 
 revered Vicar says, our immunity is one further proof if 
 such were needed, that the Providence which watches 
 over the lowliest of God's creatures is essentially be- 
 neficent ; certainly a very becoming frame of mind for a 
 humble-minded vicar in Christ who keeps ten horses in 
 his stables and hunts six days a week. 
 
 Brasset in a velvet cap winding the horn of his 
 fathers, is a figure for respect. Even the Nimrods of 
 the old school who feel that his courtesy and his care 
 for the feelings of others are beneath the dignity of the 
 chase, accord to his office a recognition which they 
 would be the last to grant to his merely human qualities. 
 This morning the noble Master was esquired by his 
 distinguished guest. The O'MuIligan of Castle Mulli- 
 gan, pride of The Blazers, possessor of the straightest 
 left in the western hemisphere, was immediately pre- 
 sented to the mistress of Dympsfield House. 
 
 That lady, mounted so expensively that her weakling 
 of a husband was deservedly condemned to bestride a 
 quadruped that Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-An- 
 struther publicly stigmatised as "an insult to the 'unt," 
 was instantly prepossessed, as her daughter had been, 
 in favour of the amateur middle weight champion. Cer- 
 tainly his blandishments were many. Grinning from 
 ear to ear, revealing two regular and gleaming rows 
 of white teeth, his bearing had both grace and cor-
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 163 
 
 diality. His smile in itself was enough to take the 
 bone out of the ground, and he had all the charming 
 volubility of his nation. As for his aide-de-camp, he 
 too deserves mention. Having done very well at 
 "snooker" the previous day, my relation by marriage 
 was looking very pleasant and happy in the most per- 
 fectly fitting coat that ever embellished the human 
 form. He was mounted on Hamlet, Prince of Denmark, 
 the piece de resistance of his stable. 
 
 We were accepting the hospitality of the Reverend, 
 an agreeable function that was rendered necessary by 
 the fact that his parsonage is within a mile of the tryst, 
 when portentous toot-toots accompanied by prodigious 
 gruntings assailed our ears. 
 
 "I say, Jo," said Alexander O'Mulligan in an aside 
 to his admiring camp-follower, "here comes ould Fizza- 
 magig." 
 
 This elegant pseudonym veiled the identity of the 
 most august of her sex. The famous fur coat and the 
 bell-shaped topper converged upon the Rectory gravel, 
 at the instance of a worn-out dust distributor whose 
 manifold grunts and wheezes all too clearly proclaimed 
 that it belonged to an early phase of the industry. 
 
 It was the broad light of day, I was in the midst of 
 friends and brother sportsmen, but once again the chill 
 of apprehension went down my spine. For an instant 
 I had a vision of pink satin. Mrs. Catesby accepted 
 the glass of brown sherry and the piece of cake respect- 
 fully proffered by the Church. But while she discoursed 
 of parochial commonplaces in that penetrating voice of 
 hers, it was plain that her august head was occupied
 
 164 MRS. FITZ 
 
 with affairs of state. Her grave grey eye travelled to 
 the middle of the lawn where the noble Master was 
 sharing a ham sandwich with Halcyon and Harmony ; 
 thence to the inadequately-mounted Member for the 
 Uppingdon Division of Middleshire ; thence to the Mag- 
 nificent Youth and the heroic O'Mulligan. Finally in 
 contemplative austerity it rested upon the trim outline 
 of the lady whose habit had not a fault, although there 
 is reason to believe that in the eyes of one it erred a 
 little on the side of fashion, who with the aid of Par- 
 soness and Laura Glendinning, was engaged in putting 
 the scheme of things in its appointed order. 
 
 Once again I was undergoing the process of feeling 
 profoundly uncomfortable when we were regaled with 
 an incident so pregnant with drama, that a mere pri- 
 vate emotion was swept away. An imperious vision in 
 a scarlet coat, mounted on a noble and generous horse, 
 came in at the Parson's gate. She was accompanied by 
 the son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth. 
 
 "What ho, the military!" murmured Alexander 
 O'Mulligan. 
 
 To the sheer amazement of all, save three of his fol- 
 lowers, the Master of the Crackanthorpe was the- first 
 to greet Mrs. Fitz. A recent incident was fresh in the 
 minds of all. It was pretty well understood that "the 
 circus rider from Vienna" and her cavalier entered the 
 Rectory grounds without an invitation, for the Fitz- 
 waren stock stood lower than ever in the market. It 
 was expected of our battered and traduced chieftain 
 that at least he should withhold official recognition from 
 these lawless invaders. He was expected to vindicate
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 165 
 
 his office and maintain what was left of his dignity by 
 looking assiduously in another direction. But he did 
 nothing of the sort. 
 
 In the most heedless and tactless manner the noble 
 Master proceeded to forfeit the sympathy, the esteem, 
 and the confidence of those who had hitherto dispensed 
 those commodities so lavishly. It would be hard to 
 conceive a more grievous affront to the feminine fol- 
 lowers of the Crackanthorpe than was furnished by the 
 Master's personal reception of the lady in the scarlet 
 coat. The grave yet cordial humility of his bearing, 
 admirably Christian in the light of too-recent history, 
 received no interpretation in the terms of the higher 
 altruism. 
 
 "He will have to resign," breathed the august Mrs. 
 Catesby in the ear of the outraged Laura Glendinning. 
 
 It was a relief to everybody when a move was made 
 to the top cover. Without loss of time the question of 
 questions was put. Was the famous ticked fox at 
 home? Was that almost mythical customer, whose 
 legend was revered in three countries, in his favourite 
 earth? 
 
 In a half circle, each thinking his thoughts, and with 
 a furtive eye for his neighbour, we waited. 
 
 A succession of silvery notes from the pack at last 
 proclaimed the answer to the question. As usual the 
 father of cunning had set his mask for Langley 
 Dumbles. One of the stiffest bits of country in the 
 Shires lay stretched out ahead. Two distinct and well- 
 defined courses were immediately presented to the field. 
 The one was pregnant with grief yet fragrant with
 
 166 MRS. FITZ 
 
 glory. The other, if not the path of honour, was cer- 
 tainly more appropriate to the married man, the 
 father of the family and the county member, particu- 
 larly if the wife of the member has a weakness for three 
 hundred guinea hunters. There was also a middle 
 course for those who while retaining some semblance of 
 ambition have learned to temper it with prudence, ob- 
 servation and sagacity. It was to the middle course 
 that nature had condemned old Dobbin Grey and his 
 rider. 
 
 Not for us the intemperate delights of the thruster. 
 Crash through a bullfinch went Alexander O'Mulligan, 
 the pride of The Blazers. Almost in his pocket fol- 
 lowed the lady in the scarlet coat. Almost in hers fol- 
 lowed Mrs. Arbuthnot. Laura Glendinning and little 
 Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins were obviously hardening their 
 hearts for prodigious deeds of gallantry. It was 
 already clear as the sun at noon that if our old and 
 sportsmanlike friend, whose jacket had the curious tick- 
 ing, only kept to the line it generally pleased him to 
 follow, some very jealous riding was about to be wit- 
 nessed among the feminine followers of the Crackan- 
 thorpe Hounds. 
 
 "My God, they call this 'untin' !" said Joseph Jocelyn 
 De Vere Vane-Anstruther, who, to his disgust, had 
 allowed himself, in the preliminary scuffle for places, to 
 be nonplussed by the unparalleled ardour of these 
 Amazons. 
 
 One thing was obvious. Old Dobbin Grey and his 
 rider were a little too near the centre of the picture. 
 Let us blush to relate it, but at the obsequious prompt-
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 167 
 
 ings of memory we moved down the hedgerow of that 
 wide and heavy pasture, yea, even unto its uttermost 
 left hand corner where a gate was known to lurk. But 
 alas! Nemesis lurked also in that corner of the land- 
 scape. For we were doomed to discover that the 
 eternal standby of the lover of the middle course, nay, 
 the indubitable emblem of it, the goodly handgate, had 
 been removed of malice prepense, and in lieu thereof 
 was a stiff and upstanding post and rails, freshly 
 planted and painted newly! 
 
 It was a great shock to the old horse. It was also a 
 crisis in the life of his rider. The rails looked terribly 
 high and stout ; we had lost so much time already that 
 every second was priceless if we were to see hounds 
 again. It was hard on the old horse, yet it really 
 seemed that there was only one thing to be done. How- 
 ever, before resolve could be translated into action, 
 other lovers of the middle course bore down upon us; 
 no less a pair than Mrs. Catesby mounted upon Marian. 
 
 "It was my intention not to speak to you again, Odo 
 Arbuthnot," said the august rider of Marian, "but if 
 you will give us a lead over that post and rails we will 
 follow." 
 
 "Place aux dames" said I with ingrained gallantry. 
 "Besides you are quite as competent to break that top 
 rail as we are." 
 
 "Out-hunting," said the high-minded votary of 
 Diana, "you must behave like a gentleman, even if at 
 the Savoy " 
 
 With due encouragement the old horse really did very 
 well indeed, hitting the top rail fore and aft it is true,
 
 168 MRS. FITZ 
 
 describing in his descent a geometrical figure not unlike 
 a parabola, but landing on his legs and gathering him- 
 self up quite respectably in the adjoining fifty acres of 
 ridge and furrow. With a little pardonable condescen- 
 sion, I turned round to look how Marian would behave 
 with her resolute-minded mistress. It is no disparage- 
 ment to the Dobbin to say that Mrs. Catesby's chestnut 
 is a cleverer beast than he ever was, also she has youth 
 on her side, and she is taller by a hand. She grazed 
 the rail with her hind legs, but her performance was 
 quite good enough to be going on with. 
 
 Mrs. Catesby can ride as straight as anybody, but 
 now she is "A Mother of Seven" who writes to The 
 Times upon the subject of educational reform, and 
 she has taken to sitting upon committees in more 
 senses than one she feels that she owes it to the 
 mothers of the nation that she should set them an 
 example in the matter of paying due respect to their 
 vertebrae. The negotiation of the post and rails had 
 put us on excellent terms with ourselves, if not with 
 each other, and side by side we made short work of the 
 fifty acres of ridge and furrow; popped through a 
 sequence of handgates and along a succession of lanes ; 
 and made such a liberal use of the craft that we had 
 painfully acquired in the course of more seasons than 
 we cared to remember, that in the end it was only by 
 the mercy of Allah that we did not head the fox ! 
 
 The fortune of war had placed us in the first flight, 
 but the celebrated customer was still going so strong 
 that we should have to show cause if we were going 
 to remain there.
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 169 
 
 The noble Master was looking very anxious. Well 
 he might, for between him and his hounds was the lady 
 in the scarlet coat. Mounted upon the most mag- 
 nificent-looking bay horse I have ever seen she seemed 
 fully prepared to hunt the pack. And I grieve to relate 
 that following hard upon her line, and as close as equine 
 flesh and blood could contrive it, was Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 on her three hundred guinea hunter. 
 
 "Look at Mops," quoth a disgusted voice. "Clean 
 off her rocker. Hope to God there won't be a check, 
 that's all!" 
 
 Jodey soared by us, taking a fence in his stride. 
 
 On the contrary, old Dobbin Grey was beginning 
 devoutly to hope that a check there would be. But as 
 game as a pebble, the old warrior struggled on. It 
 would never do for him to be cut out by Marian, and 
 in that opinion his rider concurred. Luckily we found 
 an easy place in the fence, but all too soon a more 
 formidable obstacle presented itself. It was Langley 
 Brook. Very bold jumping would be called for to save 
 a wet jacket; and it is an open secret that even in his 
 prime, the Dobbin has always held that the only pos- 
 sible place for water is in a stable bucket. 
 
 We decided to go round by the bridge. A perfectly 
 legitimate resolution, I am free to maintain, for ardent 
 followers of the middle course. Having arrived at this 
 statesmanlike decision there was time to look ahead. 
 It was not without trepidation that we did so. In front 
 was a welter of ambitious first flighters. Yet, as always, 
 the one to catch the eye was the lady in the scarlet 
 coat. Utterly heedless, she went at the Brook at its
 
 170 MRS. FITZ 
 
 widest, the noble bay rose like a Centaur and landed 
 in safety. Sticking ever to her, closer than a sister, 
 was Mrs. Arbuthnot. I shuddered and had a vision of 
 a broken back for the three hundred guinea hunter, and 
 a ducking for its rider. Happily, if you are a mem- 
 ber of the clan Vane-Anstruther, the more critical the 
 moment the cooler you are apt to be ; also you are born 
 with the priceless faculty of sitting still and keeping 
 down your hands. The three hundred guinea hunter 
 floundered on to the opposite bank, threatened to fall 
 back into the stream, by a Herculean effort recovered 
 itself and emerged on terra firma. 
 
 It was with a heart devout with gratitude that I 
 turned to the bridge. To my surprise, for as all my 
 attention had been for the Brook I had had none to 
 spare for the field as a whole, I found myself cheek by 
 jowl with Jodey. In the hunting field I know no young 
 man whom nature has endowed so happily. His air of 
 world-weariness is a cloak for a justness of perception, 
 which apparently without the expenditure of the least 
 exertion generally lands him there or thereabouts at 
 the finish. 
 
 "The silly blighters! don't they see they have lost 
 their fox?" 
 
 This piece of criticism was hurled not merely at the 
 Amazons, who had already negotiated the water, but 
 also at the noble Master and his attendant satellites 
 who were in the act of following their example. 
 
 "Reggie is quite right for once," said a voice from 
 the near side, severe and magisterial in quality. "It 
 is his duty to prevent, if he can, his hounds being over-
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 171 
 
 ridden by those unspeakable women. If Irene belonged 
 to me I should send her straight home to bed." 
 
 "Ought to be smacked," said the sportsman on the 
 off side, cordially. "Anybody'd think she'd had no up- 
 bringin' !" 
 
 Feeling in a sense responsible for the misbehaviour 
 of my lawful property, I "lay low and said nuffin." In- 
 deed, there was precious little to be said in defence of 
 such conduct in the presence of the whole field. 
 
 On the strength of Jodey's pronouncement we crossed 
 the bridge at our leisure. As usual his wisdom hastened 
 to justify itself. Reynard was tucked snugly under a 
 haystack, doubtless with his pad to his nose. He was 
 upon sacred earth, where, after a tremendous turnup 
 with Peter, the Crackanthorpe terrier, the Crackan- 
 thorpe hounds, and the Crackanthorpe huntsman re- 
 luctantly left him. 
 
 A halt was called; flasks and sandwiches were pro- 
 duced; and the honourable company of the less enter- 
 prising, or the less fortunate, began to assemble in 
 force without the precincts of the Manor Farm stack- 
 yard. Conversation grew rife; and at least one frag- 
 ment that penetrated to my ears was pungent. 
 
 "Look here, Mops," was its context, "when do you 
 suppose you are goin' to give over playing the goat?" 
 
 The rider of the three hundred guinea hunter was 
 splashed with mud up to her green collar, her hair was 
 coming down, her hat was anyhow, her cheeks were 
 flame colour, and the sides of Malvolio were sobbing. 
 
 "Mon enfant" I ventured sadly to observe, "it may
 
 172 MRS. FITZ 
 
 be magnificent, but it is not the art of chasing the fox, 
 even as it is practised in the flying countries." 
 
 The light of battle flamed in the eyes of the star of 
 my destiny. 
 
 "What nonsense you talk, Odo! Do you think that 
 the circus woman ' 
 
 "Sssh! She will hear you." 
 
 "Hope she will !" 
 
 "Fact is, Mops," said her admonisher in chief, "as 
 I've always said you are only fit for a provincial pack." 
 
 Having thus delivered himself Mrs. Arbuthnot's 
 brother washed his hands of this "hard case" in the 
 completest and most effectual manner. He turned 
 about and bestowed his best bow upon the circus rider 
 from Vienna. The act was certainly irrational. The 
 behaviour of the lady in the scarlet coat was quite as 
 much exposed to censure. To be sure her nationality 
 was to be urged in her defence, but then, as the sorely 
 tried Master confided to me in a pathetic aside, "she 
 had been out quite often enough to learn the rules of 
 the game." 
 
 "You can't expect Crown Princesses, my dear fellow, 
 to trouble about rules," said I. "They make their 
 own." 
 
 "Then I wish they would hunt hounds of their own 
 and leave mine to me," said the long-suffering one 
 tragically. "It turns me dizzy every time I see her 
 among 'em. If Fitz had any sense of decency he would 
 look after her." 
 
 "Fitz is the slave of circumstance. Brasset, if you 
 are a wise fellow and you are not above taking the
 
 HORSE AND HOUND 173 
 
 advice of a friend, you will never marry the next in 
 succession to an old established and despotic mon- 
 archy." 
 
 "My God no!" The voice of the noble Master 
 vibrated with profound emotion. 
 
 In honour of this resolution we exchanged flasks.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 <A GLARE IN THE SKY 
 
 THE Society for the Maintenance of the Public 
 Decency has a record of long and distinguished use- 
 fulness, but never in its annals has it been moved to a 
 more determined activity than during the week which 
 followed this ill-starred run. The Ruling Dames or 
 Past Grand Mistresses I don't quite know what their 
 true official title is of this august body met and con- 
 ferred and drank tea continually. Those who were con- 
 versant with the Society's methods made dire prophecy 
 of a public action of an unparalleled rigour. But 
 beyond the fact that Mrs. Arbuthnot's china-blue eyes 
 had an inscrutable glint, and that Mrs. Catesby's 
 Minerva-like front was as lofty and menacing as became 
 the daughter of Jove, nothing happened during this 
 critical period which really aspires to the dignity of 
 history. 
 
 Three times within that fateful space the noble Mas- 
 ter led forth his hounds ; three times was it whispered 
 confidently in my ear by my little friend Mrs. Josiah 
 P. Perkins, with a piquant suggestion in her accent of 
 her old Kentucky home, which sometimes overtakes her 
 very charmingly in moments of acute emotion, "that 
 if the tenderfoot from the rotunda hit the trail, Redge 
 
 174
 
 A GLARE IN THE SKY 175 
 
 would take the fox-dogs home;"* three times did the 
 lady in the scarlet coat do her best to override 
 the fox-dogs in question; three times, as the veracious 
 historian is fain to confess, nothing happened 
 whatever. It is true that more than once the noble 
 Master looked at the offender "as no gentleman ought 
 to look at a lady." More than once he cursed her by 
 all his gods, but never within her hearing. Rumour had 
 it that he also told Fitz that if he didn't look after his 
 wife he should give the order for the kennels. Unfor- 
 tunately, Miss Laura Glendinning was the sole au- 
 thority for this melodramatic statement. 
 
 However, on the evening of the seventh day the stars 
 in their courses said their word in the matter. Doubt- 
 less the behaviour of the astral bodies was the outcome 
 of a formally expressed wish of the Society ; at least it 
 is well known that certain of its members carry weight 
 in heaven. Whether Mrs. Catesby and the Vicar's wife 
 headed a deputation to Jupiter I am not in a position 
 to affirm. Be that as it may, on the evening of the 
 seventh day fate issued a decree against "the circus 
 rider from Vienna" and all her household. 
 
 Let this fell occurrence be recorded with detail. 
 Myself and co-partner in life's felicities had had a 
 tolerable if somewhat fatiguing day with the Crackan- 
 thorpe Hounds. We had assisted at the destruction 
 of a couple of fur-coated members of society who had 
 done us no harm whatever ; and having exchanged the 
 
 *In the opinion of Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins this passage fully 
 guarantees the author's total ignorance of a very great propo- 
 sition.
 
 176 MRS. FITZ 
 
 soaked, muddy, and generally uncomfortable habili- 
 ments of the chase for the garb of peace, had fared 
 tete-a-tete Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther 
 regaling his friends at the Hall with the light of his 
 countenance and his post-prandial skill at snooker 
 with sumptuous decency upon baked meats and the good 
 red wine. 
 
 We were in the most harmonious stage of all that 
 this chequered existence has to offer; taking our ease 
 in our inn while our nether limbs, whose stiffness was 
 a not unpleasing reminiscence of the strenuous day we 
 had spent in the saddle, toasted luxuriously before a 
 good sea-coal fire ; smoking the pipe of peace together, 
 although this is by way of being a figure of speech, 
 since Mrs. Arbuthnot affected a mild Turkish cigarette ; 
 comparing notes of our joint adventures by flood and 
 field, with the natural and inevitable De Vere Vane-An- 
 struther note of condescension quite agreeably miti- 
 gated by one tiny liqueur glass of the 1820 brandy a 
 magic potion which ere now has caused the Magnificent 
 Youth himself to abate a few feathers of his plumage. 
 We were conducting an exhaustive inquiry into the 
 respective merits of Pixie and Daydream, and I had 
 been led with a charm that was irresistible into a con- 
 currence with the sharer of my bliss that both were 
 worth every penny of the price that had been paid for 
 them, although I had not so much as thrown a leg 
 over either of these quadrupeds of most distinguished 
 ancestry. 
 
 "It is rather a lot to pay, but you can't call them 
 dear, can you, because they do fetch such prices now-
 
 A GLARE IN THE SKY 177 
 
 adays, don't they? And Laura is perfectly green with 
 envy." 
 
 "I'm glad of that," said I with undefeated optimism. 
 "If her greenness approximates to the right shade it 
 will match the Hunt collar. How green is she ?" 
 
 "Funny old thing !" Mrs. Arbuthnot's beam was of 
 childlike benignity. "She is not such a bad sort, really. 
 Besides, plain people are always the nicest, aren't they, 
 poor dears? Yes, Parkins, what is it?" 
 
 Parkins the peerless had entered the drawing-room 
 after a discreet preliminary knock for which the cir- 
 cumstances really made no demand whatever. He had 
 sidled up to his mistress, and in his mien natural reserve 
 and a desire to dispense information were finely mingled. 
 
 "Beg pardon, ma'am, but have you seen the glare in 
 the sky?" 
 
 "What sort of a glare, Parkins?" A lazy voice 
 emerged from the seventh heaven of the hedonist. "Do 
 you mean it's a what-do-y ou-call-it ? A planet I sup- 
 pose you mean, Parkins?" 
 
 "It can hardly be a comet, ma'am," said Parkins with 
 his most encyclopaedic air. "It is so bright and so 
 fixed, and it seems to be getting larger." 
 
 "So long as it isn't the end of the world," said Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot, fondling her gold cigarette-case with a little 
 sigh. 
 
 "It looks to me like the Castle, ma'am. It is over 
 in that direction. I remember when the west wing was 
 burnt twelve years ago." 
 
 "You think the Castle is on fire?" said I. 
 
 I also was in the seventh heaven of the hedonist. But
 
 178 MRS. FITZ 
 
 gathering my faculties as resolutely as I could, I rose 
 from the good sea-coal fire and assisted Parkins to pull 
 aside the curtains. 
 
 "By Jove, you're right. There is a blaze somewhere. 
 But isn't it rather near for the Castle?" 
 
 "It might be the Grange," said Parkins. 
 
 I was fain to agree that the Grange it might be. 
 Somehow that seemed a place excellently laid for dis- 
 aster. The announcement that the Grange was on fire 
 brought Mrs. Arbuthnot to the window. Born under 
 Mars, the star of my destiny is nothing if not a woman 
 of action. In spite of her present rather lymphatic 
 state she ordered the car around immediately. Within 
 five minutes we were braving a dark and stormy Decem- 
 ber night. 
 
 The beacon growing ever brighter as we went, it did 
 not take long to convince us that the Grange would be 
 our destination. It is to be feared that we broke the 
 law, for in something considerably under half-an-hour 
 we had come to the home of the Fitzwarens. 
 
 A heartrending scene it was. The beautiful but 
 always rather desolate old house, which dates from John 
 o' Gaunt, seemed already doomed. A portion of it 
 was even now in ruins and on all sides the flames were 
 leaping up fiercely to the sky. Engines had not yet 
 had time to come from Middleham, and the progress of 
 the fire was appalling. 
 
 A number of servants and villagers had devoted them- 
 selves to the task of retrieving the furniture. On a 
 lawn at some distance from the house an incongruous 
 collection of articles had been laid out: a picture by
 
 A GLARE IN THE SKY 179 
 
 Rubens side by side with a trouser-press ; a piece of 
 Sevres cheek by jowl with a kitchen saucepan.' Stand- 
 ing in their midst in the charge of a nurse was the small 
 elf of four. Her eyes were sparkling and she was danc- 
 ing and clapping her hands in delight at the spectacle. 
 The nurse was in tears. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot had not seen the creature before. 
 But her instincts are swift and they are sure. 
 
 "Come with me," she said to the nurse. "Saunders 
 will take you in the car to Dympsfield House. They 
 will make up a bed for you in the day nursery and see 
 that you get some warm food." 
 
 Hardly had the little girl suffered herself to be led 
 away by the prospect of a new adventure before two 
 men came towards the spot where I stood. They were 
 grimy and dishevelled, and the upper part of their 
 persons seemed to be enveloped in folds of wet blanket. 
 They were staggering under a very large and unwieldy 
 burden which was swathed in a material similar to that 
 which they wore themselves. 
 
 With much care this object was deposited upon a 
 Sheraton table, and then I found myself greeted by 
 a familiar voice. 
 
 "Hullo, Arbuthnot! Didn't expect to see you here. 
 Very good of you to come." 
 
 It was the voice of Fitz speaking with the almost 
 uncanny insouciance of the wonderful night at Portland 
 Place. He cast off the curious wrappings which encum- 
 bered his head, and said to his companion, who was in 
 similar guise, "I'm afraid it has us beat. The sooner 
 we get out of this kit the better."
 
 180 MRS. FITZ 
 
 There came an incoherent growl out of the folds of 
 wet blanket. 
 
 "Why, Coverdale!" I said in astonishment. 
 
 "I think we ought to make a sporting dash for that 
 Holbein," said the growl, becoming coherent. "That is, 
 if you are quite sure it isn't a forgery." 
 
 "Personally I think it is," said Fitz, in his voice of 
 unnatural calm. "But my father always believed it to 
 be genuine." 
 
 "Better take the word of your father. Let us get 
 at it." 
 
 It was the work of a moment to strip the wrappings 
 of the retrieved masterpiece upon the Sheraton table. 
 
 "Can I help?" said I. 
 
 "If you want to be of use," said Fitz, "go and give 
 the Missus a hand with the horses." 
 
 Leaving Fitz and Coverdale to make yet another 
 entry into what seemed hardly less than a furnace of 
 living fire, I made my way round to the stables. To 
 approach them one had to be careful. The heat was 
 intense ; sparks and burning fragments were being flung 
 a considerable distance by the gusts of wind, and ma- 
 sonry was crashing continually. The out-buildings had 
 not yet caught, but with the wind in its present quarter 
 it would only be the work of a few moments before they 
 did so. 
 
 My recollection is of plunging, rearing and fright- 
 ened animals, and of a commanding, all-pervading pres- 
 ence in their midst. Amid the throng of stable-hands, 
 villagers, firemen and policemen who had now come upon 
 the scene, it rose supreme, directing their energies and
 
 A GLARE IN THE SKY 181 
 
 sustaining them with that imperious magnetism which 
 she possessed beyond any creature I have ever seen. I 
 heard it said afterwards that she alone had the power 
 to induce the twelve horses to quit their loose boxes ; 
 that one by one she led them out, soothing and caress- 
 ing them ; and that so long as she was with them they 
 shewed comparatively little fear of the roaring furnace 
 that was so near to them, but that no sooner were they 
 handed over to others than they became unmanageable. 
 
 Certainly it was due to a consummate exhibition of 
 her power that the horses were got out of their stalls 
 without harm to themselves or to others. They were 
 confided to the care of the friendly farmers of the 
 neighbourhood, who, assembled in force, were working 
 heroically to combat the flames. All night long the 
 work of salvage went on, but in spite of all that could 
 be done, even with the aid of numerous fire-engines from 
 Middleham, nothing could save the old house. It burnt 
 like tinder. By three o'clock that December morning 
 it was a smouldering ruin. 
 
 At intervals during the night some of the Grange 
 servants had been dispatched to Dympsfield House, 
 with as many of the personal belongings of their master 
 and mistress as they could collect. Our establishment 
 is a modest one, but not for a moment did it occur to 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot that it would be unable to offer sanc- 
 tuary to those who needed it so sorely. 
 
 The fire had run its course and all were resigned to 
 the inevitable when Mrs. Arbuthnot, without deigning 
 to consult the nominal head of our household, made the 
 offer of our hospitality to Fitz and his wife. At her
 
 182 MRS. FITZ 
 
 own request she had previously foregone an introduc- 
 tion to "the circus rider from Vienna"; and now in 
 these tragic December small hours she deemed such a 
 formality to be unnecessary. Verily misfortune makes 
 strange bedfellows ! 
 
 If I must tell the truth, it surprised me to learn that 
 the Fitzwarens had been prevailed upon to accept the 
 hospitality of Dympsfield House. True, they were 
 homeless ; but, looking at the case impartially, it seemed 
 to me that they had not been very generously treated by 
 their neighbours. The foibles of "the circus rider from 
 Vienna" had aroused a measure of covert hostility to 
 which the most obtuse people could not have been insen- 
 sible. Had the average ordinary married couple been 
 in the case of Fitz and his wife, I do not think they 
 would have yielded to Mrs. Arbuthnot's generosity. 
 
 The Fitzwarens, however, were far from being ordi- 
 nary average people. Therefore, by a quarter to five 
 that morning they had crossed our threshold; and as 
 some recompense for the privations of that tragic 
 night they were promptly regaled with a scratch meal 
 of coffee and sandwiches. 
 
 One other individual, at his own suggestion, accom- 
 panied our guests to Dympsfield House. He was of 
 a sinister omen, being no less a person than the Chief 
 Constable of our county. His presence at the fire had 
 been a matter for surprise. And when, as we were 
 about to quit the unhappy scene, he came to me pri- 
 vately and said that if we could squeeze a corner for 
 him in the car he should be glad to come with us, that 
 surprise was not made less.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT BEGINS TO TAKE NOTICE 
 
 IT WAS a little before six when the ladies retired in 
 the quest of their lost repose. No sooner had they left 
 us than we lit our pipes and drew our chairs up to the 
 fire. In patience I awaited the riddle of the Chief Con- 
 stable's presence being read to me. 
 
 "Arbuthnot," the great man sucked at his pipe 
 pensively "there are several things that Fitzwaren and 
 I are agreed that you ought to know." 
 
 Fitz nodded his head in curt but rather sinister 
 approval. 
 
 "Yes, tell him," he said. 
 
 "Before Fitzwaren accepted your hospitality," said 
 the great man, "he asked my advice." 
 
 "Oh, really?" said I. 
 
 "And I think it only right to mention" the air of 
 the great man reminded me of my old tutor expounding 
 a proposition in Euclid "that it is upon my advice he 
 has accepted it." 
 
 "I ought to feel honoured." 
 
 "Well, yes, perhaps you ought." The Chief Con- 
 stable removed his pipe from his lips and tapped it upon 
 an extremely dirty boot. "But whether you will feel 
 
 183
 
 184 MRS. FITZ 
 
 honoured when you have heard all we have to say to 
 you I am not so sure." 
 
 "Nor I," said Fitz. 
 
 "You see, Arbuthnot, we have a rather delicate prob-. 
 lem to deal with. It is neither more nor less than the 
 personal safety of the Princess." 
 
 "I hope," said I, "her Royal Highness will be at least 
 as safe here as she would be anywhere else." 
 
 "That is the crux of the whole matter. Fitzwaren 
 and I have come to the conclusion that, for the time 
 being, the Princess will actually be safer in this house 
 than she would be in any other." 
 
 "Really!" 
 
 "Our local police, acting in conjunction with Scot- 
 land Yard, hope to be able to ensure her safety, that 
 is if she and her friends take reasonable care." 
 
 "You may depend upon it, Coverdale, that as far as 
 my wife and I are concerned we shall do nothing to 
 jeopardise it." 
 
 "That is taken for granted. But her present posi- 
 tion is much more critical that perhaps you are aware." 
 
 "I know, of course, that Ferdinand the Twelfth is 
 determined to have her back in Illyria." 
 
 "Yes, and further than that, the Republican Party 
 is equally determined that she never shall go back to 
 Illyria. The events of last night have furnished another 
 proof of their sentiments." 
 
 "I don't understand." 
 
 "There is reason to believe that the destruction of 
 the Grange is the work of an incendiary. That is to 
 say, a bomb was thrown through one of the windows,
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT TAKES NOTICE 185 
 
 as was the case at Blaenau recently. There can be no 
 question that the object of the crime was to kill the 
 Princess, as it was to kill the King, but in each case 
 the business was bungled. In this instance, rather 
 miraculously, not a soul was hurt, although the house, 
 as you know, has been entirely destroyed. A bomb was 
 thrown into the dining-room, but as dinner happened to 
 be half-an-hour later than usual, nobody was there." 
 
 This grisly narrative gave me a sharp shock, I con- 
 fess. And I must have betrayed my state of mind, for 
 the Chief Constable favoured me with a smile of reas- 
 surance. 
 
 "Put your trust in the Middleshire police," said he, 
 "with a little assistance from the Yard. They won't 
 play that game twice with us, you can depend upon it. 
 If the Yard had not been rather late with their informa- 
 tion they would never have played it at all. Our people 
 were actually on the way to the Grange when the out- 
 rage was committed." 
 
 For all the air of professional reassurance, the mar- 
 ried man, the head of the family and the county member 
 was thoroughly alarmed. 
 
 "It is all very well, Coverdale, but what guarantee 
 is there that even at this moment they are not dropping 
 bombs into our bedrooms?" 
 
 "Four men in plain clothes are patrolling your park, 
 and will continue to do so as long as the Princess re- 
 mains under your roof." 
 
 It would have been ungrateful not to express relief 
 for this official vigilance. But that it was felt in any 
 substantial measure is more than I can affirm.
 
 186 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Of course, my dear fellow," said Fitz, "now that 
 you are in possession of all the facts of the case, you 
 have a perfect right to withdraw the offer of your 
 hospitality. Coverdale and I are agreed that it will do 
 much to promote my wife's safety for the time being, 
 because this house will be kept under continual observa- 
 tion. But as soon as I can make other arrangements 
 I shall do so, of course. And if you really believe that 
 the safety of your house and family is involved, we 
 shall have no alternative but to go at once." 
 
 To what length ought we to carry our altruism? 
 Here was a grave problem for the married man, the 
 father of the family and the county member. In spite 
 of the opinion of the cool-headed and sagacious Cover- 
 dale, I could not allay the feeling that to harbour the 
 "Stormy Petrel" was to incur a grave risk. But at the 
 same time it was not in me to turn her adrift into the 
 highways and hedges. 
 
 "Now that we have had due warning of what to ex- 
 pect," said Coverdale, "these gentry will not find it 
 quite so easy to throw bombs in this country as they do 
 in Illyria. And if I thought for one moment you were 
 not justified in extending your hospitality to the Prin- 
 cess I should certainly say so." 
 
 Events are generally too strong for the humble mor- 
 tals who are content to tread the path of mediocrity. 
 We had already offered sanctuary to the Crown Prin- 
 cess of Illyria. A little painful reflection seemed to 
 shew that to revoke it now would be rather inhuman 
 and rather cowardly. All the same, it was impossible
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT TAKES NOTICE 187 
 
 to view with enthusiasm the prospect of four men in 
 plain clothes continually patrolling the park. 
 
 "By the way," said the Chief Constable, "you will, 
 I hope, treat this business of the bombs as strictly con- 
 fidential. It won't help matters at all to find it in the 
 morning papers." 
 
 "I appreciate that ; but won't the servants be rather 
 curious about those four sportsmen in plain clothes?" 
 
 "Ostensibly they are there to look after a gang of 
 burglars who are expected in the neighbourhood." 
 
 "Not exactly a plausible story, I am afraid!" 
 
 "The story doesn't matter, so long as they don't 
 suspect the truth. And as Mrs. Fitzwaren's incognito 
 has been so well kept, there is no reason why they 
 should." 
 
 So much for the latest development of this amazing 
 situation. From the very moment the curtain had risen 
 upon the first act of the tragi-comedy of the Fitz- 
 warens I had seemed to be cast for the uncomfortable 
 role of the weak soul in the toils of fate. From the 
 beginning it had been contrary to the promptings of 
 the small voice within that I had borne a part in their 
 destinies. And here they were established under my 
 roof, a menace to my household and the enemies of all 
 peace of mind. 
 
 It only remained to make the best of things and to 
 hope devoutly that Fitz would soon arrange to relieve 
 us of the presence of the "Stormy Petrel." But in spite 
 of all the dark knowledge it was necessary to keep 
 locked up in one's heart, there was an aspect of the 
 matter which was rather charming. To watch the lion
 
 188 MRS. FITZ 
 
 and the lamb lying down together, a veritable De Vere 
 Vane-Anstruther playing hostess to the fair eques- 
 trienne from a continental circus was certainly pleasant. 
 
 I think it is up to me to admit that at the core Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot is as sound as a bell. Certainly her de- 
 meanour towards her guests was faultless. Indeed, it 
 made me feel quite proud of her to reflect that had she 
 really known the true status of our visitor she could 
 have done nothing more for her comfort and for that 
 of her entourage. Her foibles were condoned and "her 
 little foreign ways" were yielded to in the most gracious 
 manner; and after dinner that evening it was a great 
 moment when our distinguished guest volunteered to 
 accompany on the piano her hostess's light contralto. 
 
 I took this to be symbolical of the complete harmony 
 in which the day had been spent. Confirmation of this 
 was forthcoming an hour later, when we had the draw- 
 ing-room to ourselves. 
 
 "Really she is not half such a trial as I feared she 
 would be," Mrs. Arbuthnot confessed. 
 
 "If you meet people fairly and squarely half-way," 
 said I, in my favourite role of the hearthrug philoso- 
 pher, "there are surprisingly few with whom you can't 
 find something in common." 
 
 "Perhaps there is such a thing as being too fas- 
 tidious." 
 
 "We are apt to draw the line a little close at times, 
 eh?" 
 
 "Some of these Bohemians must be rather interesting 
 in their way," said Mrs. Arbuthnot.
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT TAKES NOTICE 189 
 
 "No doubt they have some sort of a standard to which 
 they try to conform," said I with excellent gravity. 
 
 "Of course she is not exactly a lady. Yet in some 
 ways she is rather nice. Doesn't look at things in the 
 way we do, of course. Awfully unconventional in some 
 of her ideas." 
 
 "By unconventional you mean continental, I pre- 
 sume?" 
 
 "No, not continental exactly. At least, I was 'fin- 
 ished' in Dresden, but I didn't learn anything of that 
 kind." 
 
 "Had you been 'finished' in an Austrian circus per- 
 haps you might have done." 
 
 "I hardly think so. They don't seem to be ideas 
 you could pick up. I should think you would have to 
 be born with them. They seem somehow to belong to 
 your past to your ancestors." 
 
 "It has not occurred to me that circus-riders were 
 troubled with ancestors." 
 
 "Hardly, perhaps, in the sense that we mean. But 
 there is something rather fine in their way of looking 
 at things." 
 
 "A good type of Bohemian would you say?" 
 
 "Surprisingly so in some ways. She doesn't seem 
 to care a bit about money and she is absolutely devoted 
 to Fitz. She doesn't seem to care a bit about jewels, 
 either. She has got some positively gorgeous things, 
 and if there is anything I care to have she hopes I'll 
 take it. Of course I shall do nothing of the kind, but 
 I should just love to have them all."
 
 190 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "She appears to have had her admirers in Vienna, 
 evidently." 
 
 "That is what one can't make out. She has three 
 tiaras, and they must be priceless." 
 
 "Nonsense, mon enfant. Even the glamour of the 
 sawdust a thousand times reflected cannot transmute 
 paste into the real thing." 
 
 "But the odd part of it is they are real. I am con- 
 vinced of it; and Adele, my maid, who was two years 
 with dear Evelyn, is absolutely sure." 
 
 "Is it conceivable that the possessor of three diamond 
 tiaras would choose to jump for a livelihood through 
 a hoop in pink tights?" 
 
 "Yes, I know it's absurd. But nothing will convince 
 me that her diamonds are not real." 
 
 "And she offered you the pick of them?" 
 
 "The pick of everything except the smallest of the 
 three tiaras, which she thought perhaps her father 
 might not like her to part with." 
 
 "One would have thought that he would at least have 
 set his affections upon the largest of the three." 
 
 "Really, I can hardly swallow the circus." 
 
 "You haven't by any chance asked her the question." 
 
 "Dear no ! One wouldn't like to ask a question of 
 that sort unless one knew her quite well. I don't think 
 she was ever in a circus at all. Or if she was, she may 
 have been a sort of foundling." 
 
 "Stolen by gipsies from the ancestral castle in her 
 infancy. After all, there is nothing to prevent her 
 father being a duke." 
 
 "I don't think it would surprise me, although, of
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT TAKES NOTICE 191 
 
 course, she is rather odd. But then in all ways she is 
 so different from us." 
 
 "Did you observe whether she ate with her knife and 
 drank out of the finger-bowls?" 
 
 "Her manners are just like those of anybody else. 
 I am asking Mary to dine here on Friday, so that she 
 can see for herself. It is her ideas that are un-English ; 
 yet, judged by her own standard she might be con- 
 sidered quite nice." 
 
 "Mrs. Arbuthnot, surely a very generous admission !" 
 
 "Let us be fair to everybody. I'm not sure that 
 one couldn't get almost to like her. There is something 
 about her that seems to take right hold of you. Per- 
 sonal magnetism, I suppose." 
 
 "Or some uncomfortable Bohemian attribute? Can 
 it be, do you suppose, that the standard the English 
 gentlewoman likes the whole world to conform to would 
 be none the worse for a little wider basis?" 
 
 "Don't be a goose ! A person is either a lady or she 
 isn't, but she may be frightfully entertaining and fas- 
 cinating all the same." 
 
 "Yes, that has the hall-mark of truth. There are 
 cases in history. Miss Dolly Daydream, for example, 
 of the Frivolity Theatre." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot reproved me for the levity with 
 which I treated a grave issue. Upon the receipt of my 
 apology she regaled me with the astounding fact that 
 Mrs. Fitz looked down on the English. 
 
 "Is it conceivable?" said I, the picture of incredulity. 
 
 "Really and truly she does. Quite laughs at us. 
 Says we are so stupid bete, that's her word. And
 
 192 MRS. FITZ 
 
 she says we are so conceited. She seems to think we 
 have very little education in the things that really 
 matter." 
 
 "Is she old-fashioned enough to believe that there is 
 anything that really matters?" 
 
 "In a way she does." 
 
 "How antediluvian ! What does she believe it is that 
 really matters?" 
 
 "She seems to think it's the soul." 
 
 "Dear me! I hope you made it clear to her that 
 that part of the Englishman's anatomy is never men- 
 tioned in good society?" 
 
 "She knows that, I think. She says why the Romans 
 are ashamed of it is what she can't fathom." 
 
 "She pays us the compliment of comparing us to 
 the Romans?" 
 
 "She says we are the Romans." 
 
 "In a reincarnation, I presume?" 
 
 "I suppose she means that she is so awfully odd. 
 And for the Romans to give themselves airs is too 
 ridiculous." 
 
 "Has she no opinion of the Caesars?" 
 
 "The Caesars don't amount to much, in her opinion. 
 We are going to have another lesson before long, she 
 says, and it will be a very good thing for the world." 
 
 "If by that she means that materialism leads to a 
 cul-de-sac, and that it takes a better creed than that 
 to raise a reptile out of the mud, perhaps we might do 
 worse than agree with her." 
 
 "She certainly never said anything about any 'isms.' 
 But I don't understand you anyway."
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT TAKES NOTICE 193 
 
 "It seems to me, mon enfant, she has had a good 
 deal to say about the 'isms.' But then, as you say, 
 she's so foreign. Was there anything else about her 
 that engaged your attention?" 
 
 "Heaps of things. She is terribly superstitious, a 
 tremendous believer in fate. She thinks everything is 
 fore-ordained, and that the same things keep happening 
 over again." 
 
 "Doesn't her oddness strike you as rather out of 
 date?" 
 
 "Absurdly. But it is not so much her ideas as the 
 way she lives up to them that makes her so different 
 from other people. There was one thing she told me 
 really made me laugh. She said that Nevil was her 
 twin-soul, and that they lived in Babylon together about 
 three thousand years ago." 
 
 "I should think that is not unlikely." 
 
 "Be serious, Odo." 
 
 "There are more things in earth and heaven, Horatio, 
 than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Go to bed like 
 a wise child, and dream of hunting the fox, and see that 
 this Viennese horsewoman doesn't addle that brain too 
 much." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot confessed naively that she didn't feel 
 in the least like sleep. 
 
 "I think I'll have another cigarette," she said. 
 
 "Sitting up late and smoking to excess will destroy 
 that magnificent De Vere Vane-Anstruther nerve." 
 
 "Goose! Yet I am not sure that this circus woman 
 hasn't destroyed it already. Do you know, I've never 
 been in the least afraid of anybody before, but I rather
 
 194 MRS. FITZ 
 
 think I'm a bit afraid of her. She really is wonder- 
 fully odd." 
 
 A slight tremor seemed to invade the voice of Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot. I was fain to believe that such a display 
 of sensibility was extremely honourable to her. For, 
 even judged as a mere human entity, our guest was 
 quite apart from the ordinary, and it would have im- 
 plied a measure of obtuseness not to recognise that 
 fact. 
 
 Taking one consideration with another, I felt the 
 hour was ripe to let Mrs. Arbuthnot into the secret. As 
 things were going so well, it was perhaps not strictly 
 necessary; yet at the same time I had a premonition 
 that I should not be forgiven if the wife of my bosom 
 was kept too long in innocence of our visitor's romantic 
 lineage. 
 
 "That cigarette of yours," said I, "means another 
 pipe for me, although you know quite well that it makes 
 me so bad-tempered in the morning. But I think I 
 ought to tell you something that is if you will swear 
 by all your gods not to breathe a word to a living soul, 
 not even to Mary Catesby." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot pricked up her ears properly. 
 
 "Why, of course. You mean it is something about 
 this Mrs. Fitz? I know it." 
 
 "What do you know?" 
 
 "I can't explain it, but as soon as I spoke to her it 
 came upon me that she was something quite deep and 
 mysterious." 
 
 "Well, it happens that she is. Things are not al- 
 ways what they seem. I am going to give you a guess."
 
 MRS. ARBUTHNOT TAKES NOTICE 195 
 
 "There is something Grand-Duchessy about her. 
 You remember that woman we met at Baden Baden? 
 In some ways she is rather like her." 
 
 "And do you remember your old friend the King of 
 Illyria? 'the old johnny with the white hair,' to quote 
 Joseph Jocelyn De Vere." 
 
 "The dear old man in the Jubilee procession?" 
 
 "The Victor of Rodova; the representative of the 
 oldest reigning monarchy in Europe." 
 
 "Yes, yes. Such an old dear." 
 
 "Well, our friend Mrs. Fitz happens to be his only 
 child, the Heiress Apparent to the throne of Illyria. 
 What have you to say to that ?" 
 
 For the moment Mrs. Arbuthnot had nothing at all 
 to say, but she looked as though a feather would have 
 knocked her over. 
 
 "It is a small world, isn't it, mon enfant?" 
 
 "It really is the oddest thing out !" Mrs. Arbuthnot's 
 feminine organisation was quite tense. "It doesn't sur- 
 prise me, and yet it is really too queer." 
 
 "Ridiculously queer that humdrum people like us 
 should be entertaining royalties unawares." 
 
 "Not nearly so queer as that she should have married 
 Nevil Fitzwaren. How did she come to marry him?" 
 
 "They are twin-souls who lived in Babylon three 
 thousand years ago." 
 
 "That is merely silly." 
 
 "My authority is her Royal Highness." 
 
 "Fancy the Crown Princess of Illyria running off 
 with a man like Fitz!"
 
 196 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "There is reason to suppose that he makes her 
 happy." 
 
 "Why, one day she will be Queen of Illyria !" 
 
 "She may be or she may not." 
 
 "Well, I can't believe it anyway! There is no 
 proof." 
 
 "There is no proof beyond herself. And I confess 
 that to me she carries conviction." 
 
 For an instant Mrs. Arbuthnot knitted her brows 
 in the process of thought. She then concurred with a 
 perplexed little sigh. 
 
 "But how dreadfully awkward it will be," she said 
 in a kind of rapture, "for poor dear Mary Catesby!"
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 PLEDGED to secrecy, Mrs. Arbuthnot earned a meed 
 of praise for her behaviour during a crowded and 
 glorious epoch. If you entertain the Crown Princess 
 of an active and potent monarchy it is reasonable to 
 expect that things will happen. 
 
 Things did happen in some profusion during the 
 sojourn of her Royal Highness at Dympsfield House. 
 Owing to the course taken by events which I shall have 
 presently to narrate, that sojourn was prolonged in- 
 definitely. The resources of our modest establishment 
 were taxed to the uttermost, but throughout a really 
 trying period it is due to Mrs. Arbuthnot to say that 
 she was a model of tact, discretion and natural good- 
 ness. 
 
 She would have been unworthy the name of woman 
 a title not without pretensions to honour, as socio- 
 logists inform us had she not literally burned to 
 communicate her knowledge of the true identity of "the 
 circus rider from Vienna." But some compensation was 
 culled from the fact that her co-workers in the cause of 
 the Public Decency grew increasingly lofty in their 
 point of view. Even the promptings of a healthy hu- 
 
 197
 
 198 MRS. FITZ 
 
 man curiosity would not permit Mrs. Catesby to eat 
 at our board in order that she might see for herself. 
 Mournfully that woman of an unblemished virtue shook 
 her head over us. 
 
 "It was not kind to dear Evelyn. It was right, of 
 course, to sympathise with the Fitzwarens in their mis- 
 fortune. But the place was old, and George understood 
 that it was covered by insurance. And fortunately all 
 the pictures that were worth anything and some that 
 were not had been saved. But to take them under 
 one's wing as we had done was Quixotic and bound to 
 give offence. Besides, that kind of person would be 
 quite in her element at the village inn, the Coach and 
 Horses." 
 
 Nevertheless, Mrs. Arbuthnot bore every reproof 
 with a stoical fortitude. What it cost her "not to give 
 away the show," to indulge in the phrase of Joseph 
 Jocelyn De Vere, it would be idle to estimate. But she 
 was true to the oath she had sworn on the night of the 
 great revelation. Not to a living soul did she yield 
 her secret. 
 
 To Jodey himself what he was pleased to call "the 
 royal visit" was a matter of undiluted joy. It is true 
 that he was turned out of his bedroom, the best in the 
 house, which commands an unrivalled view of Knolling- 
 ton Gorse, and had to be content with humbler quar- 
 ters ; but our Bayard was so perfectly au courant with 
 all that had happened, even unto the presence of the 
 four men in plain clothes in the shrubbery, that the 
 situation was much to his taste. 
 
 When the Princess was not herself present, it pleased
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 199 
 
 him to treat the whole thing as a matter for somewhat 
 laborious satire^ 
 
 "Ain't you got a bit o' red carpet and an awning 
 for the front steps, Mops? And why don't Odo sport 
 his order at dinner? Can't see the use, myself, in hav- 
 ing an order if you don't sport it for royalty. Must 
 put your best leg first. Buck up a bit, old gal, else her 
 Royal 'Ighness will think you haven't been used to it. 
 Anyhow, you must tell Parkins to be dam careful how 
 he decants that '63." 
 
 In the presence of Mrs. Fitz, however, the demeanour 
 of my relation by marriage was not unlike that of a 
 linesman standing at attention on a field day. His 
 deportment was so fearfully correct in every detail; 
 his attire so extraordinarily nice he discarded gay 
 waistcoats and brilliant neckties as being hardly "the 
 thing" his hair was groomed so marvellously, and he 
 was so overpoweringly polite that it was a source of 
 wonder how the young fellow contrived to maintain the 
 standard he had prescribed for himself. 
 
 It was a period of anxiety, yet it was not without its 
 interest. In a very short time Mrs. Arbuthnot had 
 divined the raison d'etre of the four men in the park, 
 but this did nothing to impair her sense of hospitality. 
 Fitz did not favour us with much of his company except 
 in the evening. During the day his energies were 
 absorbed with the arrangements for the rebuilding of 
 the Grange, and, as I gathered, with further provisions 
 for the safety of his wife. All the same, limited as was 
 the time at his disposal, it was our privilege to watch 
 him sustain the domestic character.
 
 200 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Whatever the incongruity of their fortunes, it was 
 clear that Fitz and his wife had a genuine devotion for 
 one another. And in spite of their apartness and the 
 idea they conveyed of living entirely to themselves with- 
 out reference to the lives of humbler mortals, each 
 seemed to possess a quality worthy to inspire it. In a 
 measure I was privileged to share their confidence dur- 
 ing the time they stayed under our roof; and it was 
 characteristic of them both that at heart they had a 
 rather charming and childlike frankness. Each of 
 them revealed unexpected qualities. 
 
 I think I am entitled to say that I never shared the 
 hostility they seemed to arouse in others. All his life 
 long Fitz, as far as I had known him, had been con- 
 demned to play the part of the black sheep. Partly 
 it may have been due to his habit of refusing to go with 
 the tide; of his declared hatred of any kind of a ma- 
 jority. He had always been a law unto himself, and 
 had given a very free rein to his personality. To me 
 he had ever stood revealed as one capable of anything ; 
 of the greatest good or of the greatest evil; and to 
 behold him now in the domestic circle, in close affinity 
 with the magnetic being in whom the whole of his life 
 was centred, was to find him endowed with a charm and 
 a fascination which had no place in the nature of the 
 Nevil Fitzwaren that was seen by the eyes of the world. 
 
 To me there was something beautiful and also a little 
 pathetic in the relationship which seemed to exist be- 
 tween these two diverse souls. Their implicit faith in 
 the Tightness of each other, their sense of adequacy, 
 was a very rare thing. So many of the ignoble things
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 201 
 
 of life, questions of material expediency, of shallow 
 prejudice, of partial judgment, they seemed to have 
 ruled out altogether. And this could not have been 
 otherwise if one reflected that a veritable kingdom of 
 this world was the price that had been paid for this 
 true fellowship. 
 
 My previous encounters with Mrs. Fitz had been of 
 a somewhat trying nature. But on the domestic hearth 
 she was much less formidable. The impetuous arro- 
 gance which had proved so disconcerting to everybody 
 was not so much in evidence. Her charm seemed to 
 become rarefied as it grew more humane. The childlike 
 directness of her point of view began to emerge more 
 and more and to enhance her fascination ; indeed, her 
 way of looking at things became a perpetual delight 
 to such sophisticated minds as ours. 
 
 Her total inability to take us seriously was quite 
 piquant. Our England and all that was in it amused 
 her vastly. She would compare it to an enchanted land 
 in one of Perrault's fairy-tales. But our code of life, 
 our manners and customs, our ideals, our mechanical 
 contrivances and, above all, our solemnity concerning 
 them, never failed to appeal to her sense of humour. 
 
 It was my especial pleasure to converse with her after 
 dinner. I should not say that the art of conversation 
 was her strong point, and it was not until she had been 
 a week in our midst that I was able to come to anything 
 approaching close quarters with her. But it was worth 
 making the effort to get past the barrier that was un- 
 consciously erected by her air of disillusion, of patient, 
 plaintive tolerance.
 
 202 MRS. FITZ 
 
 There was a quaint definiteness about her ideas. 
 Touching all questions that had real significance her 
 thinking seemed to have been done for her generations 
 ago. All that lay outside the life of the emotions was 
 to her the wearisome iteration of a constitutional prac- 
 tice, a necessary but somewhat painful part of the 
 order of things. 
 
 Perhaps the most surprising thing about her was her 
 humility. The pomp of kingship was to her the hollow- 
 est of all chimeras. It merely resolved itself into the 
 guardianship of a profoundly ignorant, an undeveloped 
 and an extremely thankless proletariat. "Helas! poor 
 souls, they don't know what is good," was a phrase she 
 used with a maternal sigh. The divine right of kings 
 was part and parcel of the cosmic order, a fact as 
 pregnant and inviolable as the presence of the sun and 
 the planets in the firmament. To be called to the state 
 of kingship was an extremely honourable condition, 
 "but you had always to be praying." It was also hon- 
 ourable and not so irksome to be an unregarded unit of 
 the proletariat. 
 
 I am not sure, but I incline to the belief, that the fact 
 that I had a seat in the House enabled her to support 
 my curiosity with more tolerance than she might have 
 done had I been without some sort of official sanction. 
 She regarded me as a chosen servant of le bon roi 
 Edouard; either my own personal grace or that of my 
 kindred had commended itself to the guardian of the 
 state. 
 
 "Are not," said I, "the members of the Illyrian 
 Parliament elected by the people?"
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 203 
 
 "Yes, my father gave the people the franchise in 
 1890, and the nobles have never forgiven him. So now 
 the people choose their sixty deputies out of a list he 
 draws up for their guidance ; the lords of the land 
 choose another sixty from among themselves ; and then, 
 as so often happens, if the two Chambers cannot agree, 
 the King gives advice." 
 
 "The King of Illyria has heavy duties !" 
 
 "My father loves hard work." 
 
 "Are you troubled, ma'am, with a democratic move- 
 ment in Illyria, as all the rest of Europe appears to be 
 at the present time?" 
 
 The gesture of her Royal Highness was one of pity. 
 
 "Helas, poor souls !" 
 
 It was delicate ground upon which to tread. But 
 the fascination of such an inquiry lured me on where 
 doubtless the canons of good taste would have had me 
 stay. 
 
 "Would you not say, ma'am, your Republican Party 
 was a menace to the state?" 
 
 "They don't know what is good, poor souls." Her 
 voice was gentle. "They will have to learn." 
 
 "Will the King be the means of teaching them?" 
 
 "Helas! he is too old. It must be left to fate. Poor 
 souls, poor souls !" 
 
 During the sojourn of her Royal Highness at 
 Dympsfield House, we saw a good deal of the Chief Con- 
 stable of our county. In a sense he had made himself 
 responsible for the safety of us all. His vigilance was 
 great, and its unobtrusiveness was part of the man. No 
 precaution was neglected which could minister to our
 
 204 MRS. FITZ 
 
 security ; and he gave his personal attention to matters 
 of detail which less thorough-going individuals might 
 have considered to be beneath their notice. 
 
 He was particularly insistent that the Princess 
 should give up her hunting, and that she should confine 
 the scope of her activities, as far as possible, to the 
 grounds of the house. To this she was not in the least 
 amenable. An out-and-out believer in fate, and a sub- 
 scriber to the doctrine of what has to be, will be, the 
 bullets of the anarchist had no terrors for her. To 
 Coverdale's annoyance, she continued to hunt in spite 
 of his solemn and repeated warnings. And when he 
 was moved to remonstrate with Fitz upon the subject, 
 he met with the reply, "She pleases herself entirely." 
 
 "But, my dear fellow," said the Chief Constable, 
 "surely you must know that she is exposing herself to 
 grave risks." 
 
 "If a thing seems good to her she does it," was Fitz's 
 unprofitable rejoinder. 
 
 The great man was frankly annoyed. 
 
 "That is very wrong, to my mind," he said with some 
 heat. "It is unfair to those who have made themselves 
 responsible for her safety." 
 
 "It is a question of free-will," said Fitz, "and she 
 knows far more about that than most people. And 
 when it comes to a matter of choosing right, she has a 
 special faculty." 
 
 So inconclusive a reply merely ministered to the 
 wrath of the Chief Constable, who in private com- 
 plained to me bitterly. 
 
 "I wish to heaven they would quit the country," he
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 205 
 
 said. "They are a source of endless worry and ex- 
 pense. We do all we can to help them, and I must say 
 the Yard is wonderful, yet they can't be induced to 
 take the most elementary precautions. I regret now, 
 Arbuthnot, that I urged you to shelter them. I had 
 hoped they were rational and sensible people, but I 
 now find they are not." 
 
 "You think, Coverdale, the danger is as real as ever ?" 
 
 "Frankly I do. Ferdinand the Twelfth has played 
 it up so high in Illyria that the Republicans are deter- 
 mined to make an end of the monarchy." 
 
 "But didn't she renounce her right to the throne 
 when she married Fitz?" 
 
 "In effect she may have done so, but the Illyrian law 
 of succession will not contemplate such an act. Fer- 
 dinand makes no secret of the fact, apparently, that 
 he will compel her to marry the Archduke Joseph, and 
 that she must succeed to the throne." 
 
 "How is it possible for him to give effect to his 
 will?" 
 
 "He is a strong man, and if he sets his mind upon 
 a particular course of action few have been able to 
 deny him." 
 
 "Then you think her marriage with Fitz is merely 
 an episode in what is likely to be a brilliant but stormy 
 career?" 
 
 "Always provided it is not cut short by one of those 
 bullets it is our duty to anticipate. I can only tell you 
 that the Foreign Office is now very anxious to get her 
 out of the country, and that if they dared they would 
 deport her."
 
 206 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Ho, ho!" 
 
 An academic admirer of our constitutional practice, 
 I was fain to indulge in a whistle. 
 
 "And, strictly between ourselves," said the Chief Con- 
 stable, "if only the right government were in, deported 
 she would be." 
 
 "A fine proceeding, I am bound to say, for a country 
 with our pretensions to liberalism !" 
 
 "Under the rose, of course." The Chief Constable 
 permitted himself a dour smile. "I daresay it would 
 make a precedent, and yet one is not so sure about that. 
 But one thing I am sure about, and that is that some of 
 us are devilish unpopular in high places. They would 
 not be averse from making things rather warm for cer- 
 tain individuals who shall be nameless. They are pretty 
 well agreed that we ought to have kept our fingers out 
 of the pie. As old L. said to me yesterday, she has 
 got to leave the country, and the sooner she goes the 
 better it will be for all concerned." 
 
 All this tended to bring no comfort to the married 
 man, the father of the family and the county member. 
 If anything, it deepened his anxiety. 
 
 It is only just to state, however, that this feeling 
 was not shared by Mrs. Arbuthnot. To be sure, she 
 was not acquainted with all that had happened. But 
 as far as she was concerned the element of danger in 
 the case was an essential and rather delightful con- 
 comitant to its romance. 
 
 The Vane-Anstruther hypersensitiveness to that 
 mysterious ideal "good form" rendered it necessary 
 that Mrs. Arbuthnot should perform a volte-face.
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 207 
 
 This she proceeded to do with really amazing complete- 
 ness and efficiency. No sooner was the true identity 
 of our visitor established, than, as far as the ruler of 
 Dympsfield House was concerned, there was an end of 
 the circus-rider from Vienna and all her works. The 
 ingrained Vane-Anstruther reverence for royalty, due 
 I have ever been led to believe to an uncle who held a 
 Household appointment, received full play. The light- 
 est whim of the Princess except before the servants it 
 was ever the Princess was law. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot did not go without a reward. Such 
 an incursion did she make upon the royal regard that 
 in a surprisingly short time she was addressed as Irene, 
 and about the end of the first week of the visit the intel- 
 ligence was confided to me that the Princess had asked 
 to be called Sonia. Without a doubt we were living in 
 a crowded and glorious epoch. And I do not think its 
 glamour was in any degree impaired by the strictures 
 of the world. 
 
 It is not too much to say that the Crackanthorpe 
 ladies were scandalised by the open and flagrant treason 
 of Mrs. Arbuthnot. She had taken the queen of the 
 sawdust into the bosom of her family. Together they 
 hunted the fox ; together they overrode the Crackan- 
 thorpe Hounds. Loud and bitter were the lamentations 
 of Mrs. Catesby. The whole county shook its head. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot wore the crown of martyrdom with 
 extraordinary grace and nerve. Her conduct in public 
 was marked by a cynical impropriety, a flagrant 
 audacity at which the world rubbed its eyes and won- 
 dered.
 
 208 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "I really believe," said Mrs. Catesby one day as 
 together we made our way home through the January 
 twilight, "that if Irene belonged to me I should chastise 
 her. Can you be unaware that she allows the creature 
 to call her by her first name? And Laura Glendinning 
 assures me that with her own ears she heard her address 
 her as Matilda, or whatever the name is she received in 
 baptism." 
 
 "Yes, it's a desperate situation," I agreed with a 
 sigh which had perhaps a greater sincerity than it was 
 allowed the credit. 
 
 "I hold you entirely responsible," said the Great 
 Lady. "And so does everybody who knows the true 
 facts of the case. That deplorable evening at the 
 Savoy and now you actually find her house room in 
 order that she may demoralise your wife! What a 
 merciful thing it is that your dear, good, devoted 
 mother, the most refined of women, is no longer with us ! 
 By the way, Odo, I suppose you have heard that there 
 is some talk of asking you to resign your seat?" 
 
 "That is news to me, my dear Mary, I assure you." 
 
 "The Vicar thinks you ought. He seems to think 
 that if you have any Christian feeling about things you 
 will do so on your own initiative." 
 
 "It is so like the Church of England not to realise 
 that by the time a man reaches the age of forty he has 
 gone over to Buddha." 
 
 "I don't know in the least what you mean, but I hope 
 it is nothing improper. But I can assure you that the 
 Vicar's opinion is shared by others. The Castle is 
 dreadfully wounded. Poor dear Evelyn will never for-
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 209 
 
 give it never! No more fishing in Scotland and no 
 more shooting. At any rate, it will be a mere waste of 
 time and money for you to stand again." 
 
 It only remained for me to agree very cordially with 
 Mrs. Catesby, and to confess to surprise that my con- 
 stituents had not made the discovery sooner. 
 
 "But," said I cheerfully, "here we are at that fine 
 example of late Jacobean art known as Dympsfield 
 House. I would that I could prevail upon you, Mary, 
 to honour our guest by drinking a cup of tea in her 
 presence. It would be a graceful act which I am sure 
 we should all appreciate." 
 
 "I have a conscience, Odo Arbuthnot," said the Great 
 Lady, with a severity of mien that rendered the an- 
 nouncement superfluous. "Also I have some kind of a 
 standard of morals, manners and general conduct which 
 I strive to live up to." 
 
 At the gate I said au revoir to the outraged matron. 
 Having disposed of my horse, I made my way indoors. 
 The ladies had come home in the car and were at the 
 tea-table already. Among a number of other weak- 
 nesses which go with a strong infusion of the feminine 
 temperament, I confess to a decided partiality for the 
 cup which cheers yet does not inebriate. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot was pouring out the tea and her 
 Royal Highness was standing in front of the fire. She 
 was reading a letter, and to judge by her brilliantly 
 expressive countenance, its contents were affording a 
 good deal of exercise for her emotions. 
 
 "I wish, Sonia, I could convert you to cream and 
 sugar," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, declining to entrust the
 
 210 MRS. FITZ 
 
 cup to my care, but rising importantly and personally 
 handing it to the occupant of the hearthrug. 
 
 "Oh, no, t'ank you. Lemon a la Russe. What a 
 people to take cream and sugar in their tea !" 
 
 She enforced her idea of the absurdity by giving 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot a playfully affectionate pinch of the 
 ear. 
 
 "I have a piece of news for you, my child. Now, 
 you must not laugh." 
 
 "Oh, no, Sonia, I will not laugh." 
 
 The somewhat exaggerated note of Mrs. Arbuthnot's 
 obedience was not unlike that of the model girl of the 
 class being examined by the head-mistress. 
 
 "Now, Irene, be quite good. Not even a smile." The 
 Princess held up a finger of mock imperiousness. "Dis 
 is most serious. Shall I tell you now, or shall I to- 
 morrow tell you?" 
 
 "Oh, please, please," piped Mrs. Arbuthnot. "Please 
 tell me at once. Is it those absurd Republicans ?" 
 
 "Oh, no, my child; it is something much more inter- 
 esting. My father is on his way to England." 
 
 In sheer exultation Mrs. Arbuthnot gave a little leap 
 into the air. 
 
 "0-oh!" she gasped. 
 
 "Think of it, my child! The royal and august one 
 coming to this funny little island, where everything is 
 according to Perrault. He is coming with old Schalk." 
 
 "O-oh!" gasped Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 "You don't know Schalk. Wait till you have seen 
 Schalk and then you will die. He will kill you quite. 
 He looks like dis, and he walks so."
 
 RECEIVES A LETTER 
 
 Her Royal Highness made a face that was really 
 comic and took a few steps across the carpet in imita- 
 tion of Schalk going to the House of Deputies. 
 
 "Are they really coming?" 
 
 "On Thursday they arrive at Southampton." 
 
 "They will go straight to Windsor, of course." 
 
 "Oh, no, my child; it is not a visit of state. It is 
 quite a secret, what you call incognito. The King is 
 coming to make obedient his wicked daughter. Helas!" 
 
 With tragic suddenness the Princess dropped her 
 voice and the laughter died in her eyes. But Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot was far too deeply engrossed in her own wild 
 and extravagant thoughts to pay heed to the change. 
 
 "But if the King does not go to Windsor, where else 
 can he go?" said she. "An hotel doesn't seem right, 
 somehow, although, of course, there are some rather 
 nice ones in London." 
 
 "I think, my child," said the Princess calmly, "it were 
 best that my father came to us. They have anarchists 
 in London. Besides, I insist that you see Schalk. He 
 will make you laugh until you shed tears." 
 
 It was as much as ever Mrs. Arbuthnot could do to 
 keep herself in hand. 
 
 "Oh, Sonia," she cried, "do you really think the King 
 will come to us?" 
 
 "Mais oui, certainement, that is his intention. But it 
 is a secret, a grand secret, you must not fail to remem- 
 ber. Le bon roi Edouard must not know he is in this 
 country. His name will be Count Zhygny ; and perhaps 
 our good Odo here will be able to find him a little shoot- 
 ing. Hares, partridges, anything that goes on four
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 legs will amuse him; and you must never forget, my 
 good Odo, that he is the best player at Britch in Illyria. 
 Now mind you don't play very high, or he will ruin you. 
 And so will Schalk." 
 
 "I thank you, ma'am, for the information," said I 
 gravely.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 A LITTLE DIPLOMACY 
 
 THE announcement that Ferdinand the Twelfth, ac- 
 companied by his famous minister, Baron von Schalk, 
 was on his way to this country and that he was coming 
 straight to Dympsfield House can only be described as 
 a blow to one confirmed in the habit of mediocrity. Had 
 I had only myself to consult in the matter, I should 
 have argued with all the vigour of which my nature is 
 capable, that it would be quite impossible for us to put 
 them up. The lack of accommodation that was afforded 
 by our modest establishment; the obscurity of our 
 social state; our radical unfitness for the honour that 
 was to be thrust upon us ; all these disabilities and many 
 another surged through my brain, while I laved my 
 tired limbs and struggled into a "boiled" shirt, and tied 
 my "white tie for royalty" in accordance with the 
 sumptuary decree of Joseph Jocelyn De Vere. So 
 acute, indeed, became the conviction that something 
 must be done to turn the tide of events that I was fain 
 to go next door to Fitz. That worthy was in the act 
 of brushing his hair. 
 
 "You've heard the news, I suppose?" said I, and as 
 I spoke I caught a glimpse of my own gloomy and shirt- 
 sleeved apparition in a looking-glass. 
 
 213
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "What news, old son?" said the Man of Destiny, 
 negligently shaking something out of a bottle on to his 
 scalp. "Not been shootin' at Sonia, have they? Police 
 are devilish vigilant. I'm hanged if we haven't had 
 a couple of mounted detectives with us all day. They 
 rode like it, anyway." 
 
 "Do you mean to say you haven't heard?" said I, 
 positively hating the man for his coolness. "Hasn't 
 the Princess told you that her father is on his way to 
 this country, and that he is coming straight to us?" 
 
 Fitz laid down his hair-brushes and turned round to 
 face me. 
 
 "Get out!" he said. "Ferdinand coming here!" 
 
 "Yes ; she had a letter this evening to that effect." 
 
 Fitz betrayed astonishment. And under the mask 
 of his habitual indifference I thought he also betrayed 
 something else. 
 
 "That poisonous old swine coming here!" he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 "Yes; he is coming with Baron von Schalk." 
 
 "They generally hunt in couples. He never goes 
 anywhere without his familiar. But I don't like your 
 news at all." 
 
 "I like the news as little as you do," said I. "Really, 
 we can hardly do with them here." 
 
 Fitz stroked his chin pensively, and then shook his 
 head. 
 
 "It looks as though we shall have to put up with 
 them, I'm afraid. If they are really on the way, I don't 
 quite see how we can shirk them. Ferdinand is coming 
 as a private person, I presume?"
 
 A LITTLE DIPLOMACY 215 
 
 "So I gather. But what do you suppose is his motive 
 in making this sudden pilgrimage to see his daughter?" 
 
 Fitz did not answer the question immediately. 
 
 "It admits of only one explanation," he said at last. 
 "His other scheme having failed, he has the audacity 
 to take the thing in hand himself. But that is his way. 
 Whatever may be thought of his policy and the style 
 in which it is carried out, it can't be denied that he is a 
 very remarkable man. But I wish to God he would 
 keep away from England !" 
 
 The son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth ended with 
 an abrupt outburst. Evidently the prospect of coming 
 to grips with his august relation was not to be viewed 
 lightly. 
 
 "But it hardly seems right," he said, "for him to 
 take pot-luck at the Coach and Horses. I shall be im- 
 mensely grateful, Arbuthnot, if you will put him up 
 here, and of course it is quite understood that I stand 
 the shot." 
 
 "The question of the shot, my dear fellow, doesn't 
 enter into the case at all. But, you see, we are just 
 simple, ordinary folk, and we are not quite up to this 
 sort of thing; and then again, our accommodation is 
 limited." 
 
 "Oh, that will be all right. If you can squeeze in 
 Ferdinand and old Schalk here, their people can stay 
 in the village." 
 
 I am not often troubled by anything in the nature 
 of an inspiration, but desperation has been known to 
 quicken the most lethargic minds. 
 
 "By Jove," said I, "there's Brasset. He is mounted
 
 216 MRS. FITZ 
 
 on a far better scale than we are. The very man ! I'm 
 sure, if the matter were mentioned to him, he would feel 
 himself immensely honoured." 
 
 "Yes," said Fitz, "it is not half a bad idea. I will 
 mention it to Sonia." 
 
 "Of course, my dear fellow," I explained, "you un- 
 derstand that my wife and I immensely appreciate the 
 honour of entertaining the King of Illyria, and if we 
 only had more resources we should be only too grateful 
 for the chance. I hope you will make that quite clear 
 to the Princess." 
 
 Solemnly enough the son-in-law of Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth promised that this should be done, and I de- 
 scended to the drawing-room in a more equable frame 
 of mind. I was able to eat my dinner in the happy 
 belief that my inspiration had solved an acute and 
 oppressive difficulty. Emboldened by this reflection 
 and sustained by a sense of danger overpast, I even 
 went to the length of attempting to pave the way for 
 the reception of the happy solution. 
 
 "By the way," I ventured to announce to Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot at the other end of the table, "Mr. Fitzwaren 
 has suggested that perhaps it would be more convenient 
 for Count Zhygny and his friend the Baron if Lord 
 Brasset entertained them at the Hall. This seems a 
 most happy suggestion, and I am quite sure that Lord 
 Brasset will consider it a very great honour." 
 
 Before I had come to the end of this carefully 
 phrased, and, as I hoped, eminently diplomatic speech, 
 a silent but furious signal was despatched by wireless 
 telegraphy across the whole length of the table. A
 
 frown of portentous dimension clouded the brow of 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot as she turned ruthlessly to the picture 
 of amused cynicism who sat beside her. 
 
 "Really, Mr. Fitzwaren," said she, "that is nonsense. 
 His Maj I mean to say, Count Thingamy has ex- 
 pressed a gracious desire to come here, and of course, 
 as I have no need to say, we should be the last people 
 in the world not to respect it. We shall only feel too 
 proud and honoured, and the longer he stays with us 
 the more proud and the more honoured we shall feel." 
 
 "Quite so, quite so," said I hurriedly. "Those are 
 exactly my views ; that goes without saying, of course. 
 But at the same time, Mr. Fitzwaren agrees with me 
 that the accommodation at the Hall is far superior to 
 any that we have it in our power to offer." 
 
 "I didn't say that exactly, old son," Fitz turned the 
 tail of an amused eye upon his hostess. "I rather think 
 that is one of the things that ought to be expressed 
 differently. Rather open to misconstruction, as the old 
 lady said when something went wrong with the airship." 
 
 "Irene quite understands what I mean," said I with 
 the valour of the entirely desperate. "The Hall, don't 
 you know, is one of the show places of the country 
 ceilings by Verrio, and so on. Then, of course, Bras- 
 set's a peer, and as it were, marked out by predestina- 
 tion to do the honours to Count Zhygny." 
 
 There was the imperious upraising of a jeweled paw, 
 in company with a flash of eyes across the rose-bowl in 
 the centre of the table. I was reminded of the lady in 
 Meredith whose aspect spat. 
 
 "Your are talking sheer nonsense, Odo. Your father
 
 218 MRS. FITZ 
 
 is coming here, isn't he, Sonia dear ? It is all arranged, 
 and there will be heaps of room. Lucinda will go to 
 Yorkshire to see her Granny ; and Jodey can go to the 
 Coach and Horses ; and you, Odo, can sleep over the 
 stables, and I am sure that Mr. Fitzwaren won't mind 
 giving up the nicest bedroom to his Maj I should say, 
 Count von Thingamy. You won't, now will you, Mr. 
 Fitzwaren ?" 
 
 "I am yours to command, Mrs. Arbuthnot," said Mr. 
 Fitzwaren, with his chin pinned down to the front of his 
 shirt, and gazing straight before him with his smiling 
 but sardonic eye. "And if there is anything I can do 
 to add to the comfort of the Count, I need hardly say 
 that I shall be most happy." 
 
 "There !" said Mrs. Arbuthnot, triumphantly. "Not 
 another word, please, else Sonia will think we don't de- 
 serve such an honour." 
 
 Her Royal Highness regaled us all with a benevolent 
 flash of her wonderful teeth. 
 
 As one in the coils of fate, I had to submit with the 
 best grace I could to its decree. So far was the sharer 
 of my joys and the participator in my sorrows from 
 viewing the prospect of the royal coming with disfavour, 
 that she might be said to revel in it. There was a fire 
 in her eye, a lightness in her step ; the mere thought of 
 the glamour that was so soon to invest her household 
 served to envelop her in an atmosphere of mental and 
 moral elevation that can only be described as lyrical. 
 
 Later in the evening I received a Caudle lecture upon 
 my absence of tact. "What posssessed you, Odo, to 
 talk at dinner in that way! I don't know what dear
 
 A LITTLE DIPLOMACY 219 
 
 Sonia must have felt, I'm sure. One would really think, 
 to hear you, that we positively didn't want to entertain 
 the King." 
 
 "Let us assume, mon enfant" said the desperate I, 
 "in a purely academic spirit, that almost inconceivable 
 hypothesis." 
 
 "Really, Odo, there are times when you seem to take 
 a pride in being bourgeois ." 
 
 "In this instance, my child, the indictment justifies 
 itself. All the same, we are what we are ; it is hardly 
 kind to hold any man responsible for his antecedents." 
 
 "Don't think for a moment that I blame you because 
 your grandfather was in trade; although, of course, 
 trade was not so respectable then as it is now. Why 
 I blame you, Odo, is because you don't always make the 
 best of yourself. That was almost the only thing dear- 
 est Mama had against you. Now for the love of good- 
 ness, let us hear no more about the King going to the 
 Hall to stay with Reggie Brasset!"
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 
 
 IN THE face of this manifesto by the powers, there 
 was only one course to adopt. That course was sub- 
 mission. Fitz, while professing to sympathise with my 
 embarrassment, was too cynical to help me much. The 
 hospitality of the Hall might be more regal in its char- 
 acter, but then, if the august visitor came to us, think 
 what a snug family party we should be ! 
 
 The King was due at Southampton that day week, 
 and his dutiful son-in-law proposed to meet him there. 
 In spite of his casual and nonchalant airs, he had an 
 inborn instinct for behaving well on great occasions. 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth having affirmed his determina- 
 tion to visit our shores, it seemed to Fitz that it be- 
 hooved all concerned to make the best of a bad business. 
 It was a sad bore that he should have decided to do any 
 such thing, but at the same time it might prove an 
 amusing and possibly an instructive experience to have 
 the victor of Rodova dwelling among us in Middleshire. 
 
 For Mrs. Arbuthnot these were great days. Almost 
 the first thing she did was to borrow an under-footman 
 from Yorkshire. She also provoked a state of anarchy 
 in the kitchen by engaging for a fortnight a cordon 
 
 220
 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 
 
 bleu lately in the service of a nobleman. Our much 
 maligned and occasionally inebriated household goddess 
 was fairly good for plain dishes, but certainly not for 
 such as were to be set before a king. Upon inquiry 
 of his daughter as to what dishes would make the best 
 appeal to the royal palate, the Princess was fain to 
 declare that if the victor of Rodova might be said to 
 have a weakness for anything in particular it was for 
 tomatoes. 
 
 It was my privilege to be present when, one morning 
 at breakfast, the mandate was issued to Joseph Jocelyn 
 De Vere that for the time being it was necessary that 
 he should seek other quarters. 
 
 "I am really so sorry," said his sister in a birdlike 
 voice, "I am really so dreadfully sorry. But what can 
 we do? Two rather important members of the Illyrian 
 Cabinet are coming from Blaenau to see dear Sonia, 
 and of course it is only right that we should put them 
 up." 
 
 "That is what all that talk about Count This and 
 Baron That amounts to, is it?" said the young fellow 
 coolly. "Well, now, Mops, you don't suppose I am 
 going to put myself to the trouble of clearin' out for 
 a couple of bally foreigners, do you? This box suits 
 me very well, and the 'Coach and Horses' is quite a 
 second-rate sort of pub." 
 
 "You can have your meals here, of course, but it 
 would hardly be right to send foreigners of distinction 
 to the village inn." 
 
 "Foreigners of distinction ! Why, it would take the 
 King himself to uproot me."
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Such a moment was too much for Mrs. Arbuthnot's 
 dramatic sense. 
 
 "Well, it so happens," said she, with a carefully cal- 
 culated unconcern, "it is the King himself." 
 
 Jodey laid down his coffee-cup. 
 
 "Tell that to the marines !" said he. 
 
 "If you don't believe me, you had better ask Sonia. 
 Of course, it is a tremendous secret. The visit is a 
 strictly private one, and his Majesty's incognito must 
 be rigidly observed." 
 
 "I should rather think so," said the sceptical youth, 
 "I expect Fitz is pulling your leg." 
 
 "Oh, no, he isn't," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "Why 
 should he, pray? The King arrives at Southampton 
 on Thursday, and Nevil will meet him there. His Chan- 
 cellor, Baron von Schalk, accompanies him, and they 
 are coming straight to us." 
 
 "If it don't beat cock-fightin' !" 
 
 "It is really quite natural that the dear old King 
 should wish to see his daughter," said Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 with pensive dignity. 
 
 But it is only fair to Mrs. Arbuthnot to say that her 
 dramatic announcement had wrought sensibly upon her 
 brother. 
 
 "I suppose there is no help for it," he said cheerfully. 
 "I expect I shall have to clear out. But I daresay 
 Brasset will find me a crib if I explain how it is." 
 
 "There must be not a word of explanation to any- 
 body," said Mrs. Arbuthnot with an official air. "Not 
 a soul must know it is the King." 
 
 "Brasset will be all right. He's an awfully diplo-
 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 
 
 matic beggar; been an attachS at Paris, and so on. 
 You can trust him to keep a secret." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot pondered. The gravity of her mien 
 was enormous. 
 
 "Well, if you tell Reggie Br asset, you must give me 
 your word of honour that you positively won't speak of 
 it to another living being. Strictly incog., you know, 
 and if it got out there might be serious complications. 
 Of course I had to write and tell Mama, else she would 
 never have let me have Thomas. Besides, she is con- 
 sulting Uncle Harry upon one or two points of eti- 
 quette." 
 
 "Oh, is she! Evidently going to be a devilish well- 
 kept secret this is !" 
 
 "I should think it was. Why, I haven't even told 
 Mary Catesby, yet I suppose I shall have to, because 
 she is frightfully well up in that sort of thing." 
 
 "If you don't disdain a word of advice from a lowly 
 quarter," said I modestly, "you will leave Mary Catesby 
 out of your calculations." 
 
 My only guerdon was the flash of an imperious china- 
 blue eye. Other reward there was none. 
 
 "Seems to me," said Jodey, "we had better have 
 Brasset to dine with us pretty often. You will want 
 somebody to talk to the old buffer. I'm not much of a 
 hand at conversation myself." 
 
 "No, Joseph," I ventured to remark, "but you are 
 good and brave and modest. How goes the ballad that 
 Irene so charmingly discourses ? 'Be good, sweet child, 
 and let who will be clever.' ' 
 
 I desisted, for from two points of the compass a
 
 224 MRS. FITZ 
 
 double-distilled Vane-Anstruther gaze was trained upon 
 me. My relation by marriage drank his coffee and 
 fished out a vile old pipe, and lit it amid the most mag- 
 niloquent silence to which I have ever been a contributor. 
 
 But events were moving apace. The passing of each 
 day brought us sensibly nearer the all-important event. 
 With advice and aid from her Royal Highness, Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot proceeded to set her house in order with no 
 uncertainty. The King liked a room with a south 
 aspect, it appeared, and a bath-room leading out of his 
 dressing-room. By a special dispensation of providence 
 these things happened to be forthcoming. Red was 
 the predominant hue of the carpet and bed-hangings in 
 the chamber of state. The picturesque fancy occurred 
 to Mrs. Arbuthnot that purple would be more appro- 
 priate. Her Royal Highness thought it really didn't 
 matter, but Joseph Jocelyn De Vere, who was called 
 in to arbitrate, concurred with Mrs. Arbuthnot. The 
 bill from Waring's was 65 12*. 9d. less five per cent, 
 discount for cash. 
 
 On the morning of Wednesday a paper of instruc- 
 tions arrived from Uncle Harry via Doughty Bridge, 
 Yorks. It seemed to attach chief significance to the 
 wine, which should be of the best quality and abundant 
 in quantity. Deponent adjured his niece to be espe- 
 cially careful about the madeira, as all the royalties 
 he had had the honour to meet at table were extremely 
 partial to that beverage. "I am sending a case of ours 
 in the care of Thomas, unknown to your father," was 
 interspersed in the form of a note in the maternal hand. 
 In effect, Uncle Harry's instructions might be said to
 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 225 
 
 resolve themselves into as much madeira and as little 
 fuss as possible. 
 
 Fitz also was not inactive. He had accepted the 
 impending visit of his father-in-law, wholly distasteful 
 to him, as there was reason to believe it was, in quite 
 the temper of the philosopher. Since the King's ene- 
 mies were so rife in our part of the world, the first 
 thing he did was to take the Chief Constable into his 
 confidence. He then went up to town, spent two hours 
 in Whitehall at the feet of more than one Gamaliel, 
 called upon the General Manager of the Great Mid- 
 Western Railway and arranged for a special train to 
 be run through from Southampton to Middleham, and 
 rounded up his day with the purchase of a new silk hat 
 at Scott's. 
 
 The historic Thursday came at last, and shortly after 
 seven a. m. Mr. Nevil Fitzwaren set forth to South- 
 ampton, arrayed in a very smart Newmarket coat, pat- 
 ent leather boots and his new silk hat. Even when I 
 had witnessed his setting out in the full panoply of 
 war, I could hardly realise that we were on the threshold 
 of so high an occasion. I hope I do not attach an 
 undue importance to the kings of the earth. But even 
 an insignificant unit of a constitutional country, with 
 perhaps something of a slight personal bias in the direc- 
 tion of democracy, could not allay a thrill of lively 
 anticipation of what the day would bring forth. 
 
 According to the journals of the age, Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth stood for an advanced type of despot. His 
 word was law in Illyria. I spent half my morning in 
 the hunting up and perusal of a recent number of one
 
 226 MRS. FITZ 
 
 of the magazines, in which appeared a character study 
 of this famous man by one who claimed to know him 
 intimately. Therein he figured as a benevolent reac- 
 tionary ; as one who in the fullest sense of the term 
 believed himself to be the father of his people. He dis- 
 pensed justice alike to the rich and the poor; but 
 whether he was right or whether he was wrong, he 
 allowed no appeal from his verdicts. 
 
 In the opinion of the writer of the article, the King 
 of Illyria was one of the strongest men of his epoch. 
 Poised as had been all his life on the crater of a vol- 
 cano, which issued continual threats of eruption, he had 
 abated no point of his public or domestic policy in 
 response to the rumblings below. He believed himself 
 to possess an infallible knowledge of that which was 
 good for his people, and he was prone to dispense his 
 universal panacea in liberal doses. Yet he differed fun- 
 damentally from other potentates of a similar faith, as, 
 for instance, his Russian nephew and his Turkish and 
 Persian contemporaries, inasmuch that he had faith in 
 the essential virtue of his subjects. 
 
 In spite of the fact that the modern distemper of 
 anarchy had infected his kingdom, and had led to three 
 cowardly attempts on his life, Ferdinand the Twelfth 
 had furnished a convincing proof of his strength of 
 character by declining to saddle his people with the 
 responsibility of what he chose to consider as isolated 
 acts of fanaticism. From the earliest times any in- 
 dividual or body of freemen of the Kingdom of Illyria 
 had enjoyed the right of personal access to their 
 sovereign. He was ready to give them advice in the
 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 227 
 
 most commonplace affairs. In many ways he was more 
 like an enlightened friend and neighbour of liberal 
 views than a despotic ruler whose word was law. It 
 was said that he would advise a working-man about 
 the choice of a calling for his son, or he would fix the 
 amount of a daughter's dowry. "To take the King's 
 opinion" had become a proverbial phrase throughout 
 the land ; and it was said that in the case of two farm- 
 ers haggling over the price of a horse that whenever 
 the phrase was used it received a literal interpretation. 
 
 The consequence of this accessibility was an abund- 
 ant popularity among all classes in the state. In liv- 
 ing up to the letter of the truly royal tradition that 
 every Illyrian enjoyed the King's friendship, he had 
 conserved his power, and in spite of many a sinister 
 growl in consequence of severe taxation and many flag- 
 rant abuses of authority, the volcano had remained in- 
 active throughout a long and not inglorious reign. His 
 campaign in the sixties against the might of Austria, 
 culminating in the historic day of Rodova, had been a 
 wonder for wise men, and had only been rendered pos- 
 sible by the almost superstitious faith of all classes of 
 a comparatively small community. 
 
 In his final survey of the character and attainments 
 of one of the most significant figures of the age, the 
 writer of the article indulged in the prophecy that with 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth a symbol of true kingship would 
 pass away. The forces of modernism were too strong 
 in Illyria, as elsewhere in Europe, to be held longer at 
 bay. It was only by a miracle that the doors of the 
 historic castle at Blaenau had been barred against them
 
 228 MRS. FITZ 
 
 so long. Only an extraordinary personal power and 
 an unflinching strength of will had kept them unforced. 
 For none could deny that the sublime example of trust- 
 ing all men and fearing none had gone hand in hand 
 with the gravest abuses ; yet, whatever was their nature, 
 it could at least be said that they owed their origin to 
 no ignoble source. A king in every true essential, Fer- 
 dinand the Twelfth had the defects of his qualities. 
 The standard of well being in Illyria was high, but it 
 was by no means widely dispersed. As is the case within 
 the borders of all despotisms, the rich were the rich and 
 the poor were the poor in Illyria. In many respects the 
 condition of the people recalled that of France before 
 the Revolution ; and it would be a source of surprise to 
 none who were in a position to observe the present situa- 
 tion if, at the eleventh hour, the fate of Louis XVI 
 overtook this present uncommonly able and uncommonly 
 misguided ruler. 
 
 By the light of what this day was to bring forth, 
 I made an anxious study of this document. If I can- 
 not say that I derived reassurance from it, at least it 
 did nothing to diminish my curiosity. It was to be our 
 privilege to entertain a type of true kingliness under 
 our roof. If one of those culinary disasters occurred 
 to which even the best regulated households are suscep- 
 tible, and we were constrained to offer burnt soup or an 
 underdone cutlet to the father of his people, it was to 
 be hoped that his trembling host and hostess would not 
 have to forfeit their heads. 
 
 As far as the King's daughter was concerned, it had 
 seemed to us that the announcement of his coming had
 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 
 
 brought unhappiness. Her alert, half humorous, half 
 malicious interest in everything around her which made 
 her charm, had seemed to give place to the brooding 
 preoccupation of one who felt a deep distrust of com- 
 ing events. In particular I thought this was shown in 
 her relation to her small daughter. 
 
 Prior to the receipt of the King's letter, Mrs. Fitz 
 had shown no undue devotion to this piece of mischief 
 incarnate who answered to the name of Marie, who 
 defied her governess, bullied the servants and the domes- 
 tic pets, and who fiercely contended in season and out 
 with Miss Lucinda, a milder and more legitimate house- 
 hold despot. But by the time we had come to this his- 
 toric Thursday, it was as though her mother could not 
 bear this elf out of her sight. It was, of course, natural 
 that she should ardently wish that Marie should behave 
 nicely to her Grandpapa, but there was something al- 
 most tragic in this new anxiety concerning her. There 
 could be no doubt its root struck deep. 
 
 To those who understood her ways and moods, it 
 was clear that something weighed upon her heavily. It 
 was even in the expression of her face; there was a 
 strange decline of her vivacity, and a slackening of 
 interest in the things around her. By the time Thurs- 
 day came she seemed most unhappy. 
 
 The Crackanthorpe had no fixture for that day, and 
 in the light of after events, perhaps, it had been well 
 if they had. All the morning she was curiously silent 
 and distraite. She divided more of her time between 
 the stables and the society of her horses and the nursery 
 and the society of her singularly wilful and intractable
 
 230 MRS. FITZ 
 
 daughter. At luncheon she refused every dish, con- 
 tenting herself with a glass of water and a piece of dry 
 toast. Not a word did she speak until near the end of 
 the meal, when quite suddenly she clasped her hands to 
 her head, and exclaimed in a deep guttural voice, hardly 
 recognisable as her own. 
 
 "I t'inklwillgomad!" 
 
 There was something indescribably tragic in the ex- 
 clamation. I rose and withdrew from the room, and 
 made a sign to the servants to follow. Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 was left alone with the unhappy lady, and as I went out 
 I remarked to her that I was going into the library. 
 
 About ten minutes afterwards, Irene came to me 
 there. She was looking pale and anxious and not a 
 little alarmed. 
 
 "She is suffering dreadfully, poor thing," she said, 
 not without a suspicion of tears. "She is almost out 
 of her reason, and she is making a frantic effort to 
 control herself." 
 
 "Can you gather what the trouble is?" 
 
 "She has a terrible fear of something. What it is 
 I don't know. She keeps talking in Illyrian." 
 
 "Is it her father's coming?" 
 
 "Yes, it has upset her dreadfully." 
 
 "Is she afraid of him?" 
 
 "Yes, pathetically afraid. But there is also some- 
 thing else she fears." 
 
 "I suppose she is thinking of her husband and her 
 child?" 
 
 "Yes, poor soul ! How I wish we could help her !" 
 
 "It is not easy to help the children of destiny."
 
 THE EXPECTED GUEST 231 
 
 "Never until now have I realised what a dreadful 
 life it is these people lead. She is suffering terribly. 
 Do you know of anybody who understands the stars?" 
 
 "The stars !" 
 
 "Yes, she says she wants to know what the stars are 
 doing. It is ridiculous superstition, of course, and I 
 told her so. But she shook her head in the oddest way, 
 and she looked so tragic and unhappy that she nearly 
 made me cry." 
 
 "Isn't there an astrologer in Bond Street? But it's 
 a hundred to one he's a charlatan." 
 
 "They all are, of course." 
 
 "The Princess doesn't appear to think so. And there 
 is my cracked old Uncle Theodore who lives in Bryans- 
 ton Square. He is supposed to be no end of an author- 
 ity upon the stars." 
 
 "Well, it is utterly ridiculous, but I am afraid noth- 
 ing can be done with her until she has consulted some- 
 body. Give her your Uncle Theodore's address and let 
 her catch the 2.20 to town, and she will be back before 
 the King comes." 
 
 "She can't go alone. In her present state of mind 
 somebody must be with her. Can't you persuade her to 
 wait until she has seen her father?" 
 
 "She is suffering so much that it would be a mercy to 
 relieve the strain in any way." 
 
 "Very well, I will take her to see old Theodore. I 
 will send him a wire to tell him that a lady is coming to 
 consult him about the stars ; and also I had better tele- 
 phone to Coverdale to let him know what's happening. 
 It is hardly wise to go to London without an escort.
 
 232 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Then there is the monarch to be arranged for. But 
 Fitz will wire the authorities direct from Southampton 
 the approximate time of his arrival." 
 
 Luckily Coverdale was at the Sessions Hall. But 
 when I informed him of the Princess's sudden deter- 
 mination to go to town by the 2.20 he very nearly fused 
 the wires. How the blank did she suppose that with her 
 blank father due at Middleham at 6.50 the Middleshire 
 Constabulary could arrange for her to go gallivanting 
 to the blank metropolis that blank afternoon? With- 
 out venturing in any way to enlighten the official 
 nescience or to mitigate its temperature, I attempted 
 with infinite tact and patience to explain, yet withhold- 
 ing all references to the stars as I did so, that in the 
 circumstances there was no help for it. This being a 
 matter upon which the Princess had fully made up her 
 mind, it behooved the Middleshire Constabulary to defer 
 to her wishes with the best possible grace. 
 
 "Well, my friend," said the Chief Constable, "let me 
 tell you, you are running a devil of a risk. But I shall 
 communicate with Scotland Yard, and ask them to look 
 after you. Still, as the King arrives this evening, the 
 four men you have with you had better remain on duty 
 at the house. And," concluded the head of the Middle- 
 shire Constabulary, "I would to God the whole blank, 
 blank crowd !!" 
 
 A married man, a father of a family, and a county 
 member somewhat hurriedly replaced the receiver.
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 A VISIT TO BRYANSTON SQUARE 
 
 UNWILLINGLY enough, I set out with our guest to 
 consult my Uncle Theodore. Assuredly it was a scheme 
 in which commonsense, in the general acceptation of 
 that elusive quality, had no part. Yet, however pre- 
 posterous the proceeding, it was an act of common 
 humanity to take even an extravagant measure for the 
 relief of such an acute suffering. It was impossible not 
 to pity the unhappy creature. Her eyes were wild and 
 her appearance had been transformed into that of a 
 hunted animal. 
 
 On the way up to town we were fortunate enough to 
 secure a carriage to ourselves. Throughout the jour- 
 ney my companion hardly addressed a word to me, but 
 she continued to betray many tokens of mental anguish. 
 The train was punctual, and by a few minutes after 
 four o'clock we were in Bryanston Square. 
 
 It is only once in a lustrum that I visit my Uncle 
 Theodore. He is rich, a bachelor, and in the family is re- 
 garded as an incorrigible crank. The champion of lost 
 causes, a poet, a radical, a practitioner of the occult, 
 a scorner of convention, and a robust hater of many 
 things, including all that relates to the merely expedient, 
 the utilitarian and the material, he is looked upon as a 
 
 233
 
 234 MRS. FITZ 
 
 dangerous heretic who might be more esteemed if he 
 belonged to a less eminently responsible clan. 
 
 Howbeit, I confess that I never visit my Uncle Theo- 
 dore without feeling constrained to pay a kind of invol- 
 untary homage to his personality. He has a way with 
 him ; there is something about him which is the absolute 
 negation of the commonplace. He is tall and extraor- 
 dinarily frail, with a picturesque mop of orange-col- 
 oured hair, and a pair of large round eyes of remark- 
 able luminosity, which seem like twin moons of liquid 
 light. 
 
 It was our good fortune to find this bravo at home 
 and in receipt of my telegram. I left my companion in 
 another room while I went forth and bearded the lion 
 in his den. Dressed in a velvet jacket, a red tie and a 
 pair of beaded Oriental slippers he was in the act of 
 composition, and was writing very slowly with a feath- 
 ered quill upon a sheet of unruled foolscap. 
 
 "I am writing a letter to the time-serving rag that 
 disgraces us," he said with a kind of languid vehemence 
 "and the time-serving rag won't print it, but I shall 
 keep a copy and publish it in a pamphlet at the price of 
 threepence." 
 
 "Then put me down for four copies," said I. "You 
 know I always regard you as one of the few living 
 masters of the King's English." 
 
 "The King's English! The King, my boy, has no 
 English. He has less English than the average self- 
 respecting costermonger." 
 
 "The well of English undefiled, then." 
 
 "That is better. You are perfectly right. It is my
 
 A VISIT TO BRYANSTON SQUARE 235 
 
 firm conviction that my prose is quite equal to my 
 poetry, and yet these dunces persist in saying that we 
 poets can't write prose. Swinburne couldn't, it's true, 
 and with tears in my eyes I used to beseech him to give 
 up trying. But he was an obstinate little fellow. Mil- 
 ton couldn't, either. But Goethe now, Goethe could 
 write prose as well as I can myself, and so could Words- 
 worth if he had liked, and so could Shelley. As for that 
 yokel from Stratford-on-Avon, if there is anybody who 
 dares to say he couldn't write prose, I should like to 
 have the pleasure of contradicting him." 
 
 "I think," said I, "you will be among the prose- 
 writers after your death. If I survive you, I shall hope 
 to prepare a collected edition of the letters you have 
 had rejected by the newspapers." 
 
 "That's a bargain, my boy. I will select them for 
 you. It will be a nice little legacy to leave to posterity. 
 A hundred years hence they will speak of me as the 
 British Lucian who opened the stinking casements of 
 a putrid age and let in God's honest sunlight. What 
 a time we live in, and what a poisonous crew inhabits 
 it ! Why, do you know, my boy, we have less real free- 
 dom in this country than they have in Illyria." 
 
 The totally unexpected mention of the blessed word 
 Illyria startled me considerably. That sinister king- 
 dom was evidently in the air. 
 
 "You are right, Theodore," said I. "The stinking 
 
 casements of a putrid age that is a phrase I shall 
 
 remember when next I am at the point of asphyxiation 
 
 upon the green benches of the Mother of Parliaments." 
 
 "What a football-kicking, boat-tugging, gymnasium-
 
 236 MRS. FITZ 
 
 bred crew they must be to stand such an atmosphere 
 day after day, night after night! I shouldn't have 
 thought that a really polite man could have existed in it 
 for three days. I wonder what Edmund Burke thinks 
 of the place when he enters it now." 
 
 A rough working knowledge of the subject with 
 which I had to cope rendered it imperative that I should 
 make a determined effort to lay hold of his head before 
 he took charge of me altogether. 
 
 "Theodore," said I, "I am not here to yield to the 
 delight of your conversation, much as I yearn to do so. 
 I have brought a lady with me who desires to consult 
 you about the stars." 
 
 He seemed to laugh a deep, hollow laugh out of the 
 depths of himself, much as an ogre might be expected 
 to do. 
 
 "Vain superstition !" he guffawed, as he stretched out 
 his long tenuous hands. "O ye upper-middle class 
 British Pharisees, that ye should condescend ! Who is 
 this weak vessel that would consult the stars? Not, I 
 trow and trust, a daughter of the late Sir John Stub- 
 berfield, Bart.?" 
 
 "The late Sir John Stubberfield, Bart.," was a symbol 
 erected permanently in his mind, with which he toyed 
 when he was moved to exercise his fancy at the expense 
 of his countrymen. 
 
 "Not a daughter of Sir John," I assured him. "An 
 even more potent personage." 
 
 "Impossible, my boy ! A veritable daughter of Sir 
 John stands at the apex of human endeavour. She is 
 the crown of social, political and philosophical beati-
 
 A VISIT TO BRYAN STON SQUARE 237 
 
 tude. Do you forget that it was a daughter of Sir 
 John Stubberfield, Bart., who married a Prosser? Do 
 you forget it was a daughter of Sir John Stubberfield, 
 Bart., who had issue an heir male, a little Prosser?" 
 
 "Peace, peace, my good Theodore. You have a bare 
 half -hour in which to read the stars in their courses for 
 a fair unknown. And I beg that you will treat her 
 tenderly, for she is a brave woman and an unhappy." 
 
 "Aha!" The Ogre the name he was known by in 
 the family sighed a romantic sympathy. Jt may seem 
 out of harmony with the terms in which I have endeav- 
 oured to render the personality of this Berserk, but he 
 had an almost quixotic development of the sense of 
 chivalry. Nothing so greatly delighted this champion 
 of lost causes as to succour those who were in distress. 
 
 "Produce the languishing vestal, so that the arts of 
 the necromancer may sustain her. But stay, my boy; 
 before we go further, may I suggest that you conform 
 to the conventional practice of confiding the name she 
 goes by among men?" 
 
 "Certainly. Her name is Mrs. Nevil Fitzwaren." 
 
 "Aha!" The Ogre swung half round in his writing 
 chair to confront me. He seemed like a satyr, and the 
 twin moons that were his eyes began to magnetise me 
 with their uncanny effulgence. "A woman about thirty, 
 of foreign extraction?" 
 
 "Ye es." 
 
 "Married an English squire about five years ago?" 
 
 "How the deuce do you know that ?" said I in amaze- 
 ment.
 
 238 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Again the look of the satyr seemed to transfigure 
 him. 
 
 "What, pray, is the use of being a soothsayer with- 
 out one is permitted to dabble a little in the black 
 arts?" 
 
 "Theodore, my friend," said I with a somewhat dis- 
 concerted laugh, "I am inclined to think you must be 
 the Devil." 
 
 "Perchance, my dear boy, perchance." The Ogre 
 placed the tips of his fingers together in a way he had. 
 "May it interest you to know that the Devil is a more 
 potent figure in the public life of our little day than 
 our German friends allow for. Never despise the Devil, 
 and never mention him lightly in any company, for he 
 is always looking at you." 
 
 The twin moons were enfolding me with a refulgence 
 that in the dim January twilight was so uncanny that, 
 had I been other than of a fairly robust materialistic 
 texture, I might have felt a kind of horror. 
 
 "It is very interesting that your friend Mrs. Fitz- 
 waren black hair, olive complexion, remarkable ap- 
 pearance, a type you can't place should come to me 
 like this. The fact is, my dear boy, things are not 
 always what they seem. Judging by the recent behav- 
 iour of one or two rather important planetary bodies, 
 and of the new body of which our observant French 
 friends have lately learned to take cognisance, the visit 
 of your friend Mrs. Nevil Fitzwaren to your cracked 
 Uncle Theodore at his local habitation in Bryanston 
 Square may have some kind of a bearing on the destiny 
 of nations. How say you?"
 
 A VISIT TO BRYANSTON SQUARE 239 
 
 "My dear Theodore," I expostulated, from motives 
 of policy, "my dear Theodore, you really are, 'pon my 
 word you really are 
 
 All the same, it was with a singular complexity of 
 emotion that I went forth to lead this prophet and 
 soothsayer into the presence of the Crown Princess of 
 Illyria. 
 
 It struck me as I preceded my carpet-slippered rela- 
 tion into the great bare room that the unhappy lady 
 was looking more distinguished and more distraught 
 than ever. Had I had a merely superficial acquaintance 
 with our family Berserk I must have had qualms as to 
 the mode of his reception of his visitor. In uncongenial 
 company he could be a positive Boeotian savage, but, 
 again, if it pleased him, he could display an ease and 
 a sympathetic charm of bearing which was wholly de- 
 lightful to those who had the good fortune to call it 
 forth. 
 
 As he came shambling in with his flaming tie, his 
 mop of orange-coloured hair, his hands in his pockets 
 and his heels half out of his slippers, would it please 
 him to be the polished and gracious courtier, or the wild 
 Boeotian savage? 
 
 His visitor rose to receive him and a grave bow was 
 exchanged. And for the first time in my knowledge of 
 her Mrs. Fitz seemed at a loss for speech. Small won- 
 der was it, for this gaunt, lean presence with the faun- 
 like smile and the still, full, luminous gaze, seemed to 
 hold the key to realms of infinite mystery and power. 
 
 "If you will come to my room, we can talk," he said 
 quite gently.
 
 240 MRS. FITZ 
 
 As he was about to lead the way, he half turned 
 and leered at me ogre-like over his shoulder with his 
 peculiarly significant malice. 
 
 "Tell Peacock to give you the Sporting Times and a 
 cigar and a whiskey-and-soda, my dear boy," he said. 
 
 "Thanks," said I, "but I am afraid you cannot be 
 allowed more than twenty minutes for your interview. 
 It is imperative that Mrs. Fitzwaren should catch the 
 5.28 from the Grand Central." 
 
 "The 5.28 from the Grand Central." He repeated 
 the words as though an importance was attached to 
 them that they had no reason to claim. Then he added 
 musingly, "I am not so clear as I should like to be that 
 you will be wise to catch it. It would be better, I think, 
 if Mrs. Fitzwaren could arrange to travel to-morrow." 
 
 "Impossible, my dear Theodore. Mrs. Fitzwaren is 
 staying with us, and we must certainly be back to 
 dinner." 
 
 The Princess nodded her concurrence. 
 
 "Well, well, if you really must. And perhaps I ex- 
 ceed my prerogative." 
 
 The singular creature proceeded to lead the way to 
 his study. I was left to meditate alone for twenty min- 
 utes upon this latest expression of his personality. 
 Never before had I realised so fully that he was the 
 possessor of gifts the nature of which was as a sealed 
 book to the common mortal. There had been occasions 
 when we "in the family" had been tempted to believe 
 that there was a strong infusion of the charlatan in 
 his pretension to occult knowledge. A prophet is not 
 without honour save in his own country.
 
 A VISIT TO BRYANSTON SQUARE 
 
 But as I sat this January evening in his house in 
 Bryanston Square, I realised more fully than I had 
 ever done before that the last word has yet to be uttered 
 in regard to the things around us. It was as though 
 all at once my cranky relation in his carpet slippers, 
 his velvet coat and his red tie had brought me into a 
 more intimate contact with the Unseen. 
 
 Somehow, and for no specific reason that I was able 
 to discover, my unruly nerves began to tick like a clock. 
 The temperature of the room was not high, but a 
 perspiration broke out all over me. A full five minutes 
 I sat in the silence of the gathering darkness not quite 
 knowing what to do and not caring particularly. It 
 was as though the enervating atmosphere of my uncle's 
 nearness had taken from me the power of volition. 
 
 It never occurred to me to ring the bell, and yet I 
 had merely to press the button at my elbow. Neverthe- 
 less, when a servant entered with a lamp it was a real 
 relief. 
 
 "Hullo, Peacock!" said I, issuing with a little shiver 
 from my reverie. 
 
 Somehow it seemed that that retainer, trusted, 
 elderly, responsible, looked singularly pale and meagre 
 in the lamplight. 
 
 "Are you very well, Peacock?" 
 
 "Thank you, sir, not very." The old servant sighed 
 heavily. 
 
 "Why, what's the matter?" 
 
 The old fellow proceeded to draw the curtains and 
 then turned to face me with a kind of nervous defiance. 
 
 "Fact is, Mr. Odo," he said, "this place is getting
 
 242 MRS. FITZ 
 
 too much for me. I am afraid I sha'n't be able to go 
 on much longer. Fact is, Mr. Odo" the old man low- 
 ered his voice to a whisper of painful solemnity "it is 
 contrary to the will of God." 
 
 "What is contrary to the will of God?" 
 
 "The goings on, sir, of Mr. Theodore. My private 
 opinion is and I say to you, Mr. Odo, what I wouldn't 
 say to another " The voice of the old fellow grew 
 lower and lower "that Mr. Theodore is getting to 
 know a bit more than any man ought to; in fact, sir, 
 more than the Almighty intended any man should." 
 
 "What do you mean, Peacock? You are not grow- 
 ing superstitious in your old age, are you?" 
 
 I strove to speak in a light tone. But in my own ears 
 my voice sounded curiously high and thin. 
 
 "I mean this, sir. The line ought to be drawn some- 
 where. And Mr. Theodore doesn't know where to draw 
 it. The people he has here, sir, it's well, it's appal- 
 ling ! Clairvoyants, mediums, mahatmas, Indian fakirs, 
 table-turners, spirit-rappers and I can't say what. 
 Communion with spirits is all very well, sir, but it is 
 contrary to the will of God. The Almighty never in- 
 tended, sir, that we should pry into all the secrets of 
 existence." 
 
 "How do you know that, Peacock?" 
 
 "I know by this, sir." The old fellow tapped the 
 centre of his forehead solemnly. "The thing that lies 
 behind this." 
 
 To my surprise the old servant wrung his hands and 
 burst into tears. 
 
 "It can't go on, sir at least, as far as I am con-
 
 cerned. Either Mr. Theodore will have to mend his 
 ways or I shall have to leave him. I have been a long 
 time with Mr. Theodore and of course I was with his 
 father before him, and I daresay I am getting old, but 
 do you know what we have got in the attic, sir?" 
 
 "What have you got in the attic, Peacock?" 
 
 "An Egyptian mummy, sir. It is several thousand 
 years old, and I am convinced that a curse is on it. 
 I wouldn't enter that attic, sir, not me, not for all the 
 wealth of the Rothschilds." 
 
 "I was not aware that you were superstitious, Pea- 
 cock," said I with a very ineffectual assumption of the 
 formal tone of the married man, the father of the fam- 
 ily and the county member. 
 
 "It is not superstition, sir, but I know what I know. 
 That mummy has got to leave this house, or I shall 
 leave it." 
 
 "Is that the fiat of the True Believer?" 
 
 "I don't fear God the less, sir, because I fear an 
 Egyptian mummy, if that is what you mean." 
 
 "But you are inclined to think there are more things 
 in earth and heaven than it is well for the average man 
 to be concerned with?" 
 
 "I am convinced of that, sir; and if Mr. Theodore 
 doesn't get rid of that mummy and amend his goings 
 on, I shall be compelled to give notice." 
 
 Stated baldly, the old fellow's words may seem 
 ridiculous. But as he uttered them his distress was so 
 sincere that it was impossible to deny him a meed of 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Quite right, if you do, Peacock," I agreed. "And
 
 244 MRS. FITZ 
 
 you can lay it to that honest conscience of which you 
 are rightly proud that you have served the family long 
 and faithfully, and that no one will question your right 
 to an annuity." 
 
 "Oh, that will be all right, sir," said the old retainer ; 
 "even if Mr. Theodore does act contrary to the will of 
 God, nobody can deny that he is a perfect gentleman." 
 
 "Is not that rather a confirmation of the ancient 
 theory that the Devil was the first perfect gentleman?" 
 
 "I have not thought of that before, sir, but now you 
 mention it, it is certainly worth thinking about." 
 
 Having lent sanction to this profound truth, the old 
 fellow went out of the room. But I recalled him from 
 the threshold. 
 
 "By the way, Peacock, Mr. Theodore told me to ask 
 for the Sporting Times, a cigar and a whiskey-and- 
 soda." 
 
 "Very good, sir." The old fellow withdrew. 
 
 "And thank God for them!" I muttered devoutly to 
 the bare walls.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION OF THE 
 
 THEORY THAT THINGS ARE NOT 
 
 ALWAYS WHAT THEY SEEM 
 
 WHEN the old man returned with this sustenance for 
 the material state, I was moved to inquire how it was 
 that such an intellectual rawhead and bloodybones as 
 this too-assiduous diver into the sunless sea of the occult 
 should subscribe to a journal of such a texture and 
 complexion. 
 
 "Is it, Peacock, do you suppose, that, like Francis 
 the first Lord Verulam, he would take all knowledge for 
 his province?" 
 
 "He goes racing, sir," said Peacock, not without 
 a suggestion of pride. "And, what is more, sir, he wins 
 so much money that none of the bookmakers will have 
 anything to do with him these days if they can help it. 
 Why, do you know, sir, he has given me the name of the 
 winner of the Derby three years running a whole fort- 
 night before the race." 
 
 "Did you reconcile it with your conscience, Peacock, 
 to back the horse?" 
 
 "Not the first time, sir, because, you see, I was hardly 
 convinced it would win. It was a new fad with him then. 
 But when I found it did win, and he gave me the tip the 
 
 245
 
 246 MRS. FITZ 
 
 next year, it seemed to be flying in the face of Provi- 
 dence, as it were, to throw away the chance, so I had on 
 a sovereign and won nine pounds ten." 
 
 "And the third time, Peacock?" 
 
 "The third time, sir, I made it five and I won forty. 
 And if I can stand his goings on, sir, until next Epsom 
 week, and he gives me the tip again, I intend to put on 
 all my savings." 
 
 I had scarcely the heart to ask the old fellow what 
 his conscience had to say in the matter. Doubtless it 
 was one of those organisms that only responded to the 
 call of the higher metaphysics. It was a patrician con- 
 science, no doubt, which only concerned itself with the 
 ultimate. 
 
 Anyhow, before I could gratify my curiosity on this 
 point, the re-emergence of my Uncle Theodore saved his 
 retainer from an inquiry. A glance at my watch con- 
 vinced me that we had not a moment to lose if we were 
 to catch the 5.28 from the Grand Central station. 
 
 Uncle Theodore took an almost paternal leave of his 
 visitor. He conducted her to the taxicab which awaited 
 us ; and in a voice of gentleness, of winning deference, 
 he bade her God-speed. When she offered him her hand, 
 as it seemed almost timidly, he pressed it to his lips. 
 
 "Fear nothing," I heard him say under his breath 
 softly, and I thought the unhappy lady smiled wanly 
 with her great gaunt eyes. 
 
 As I was about to enter the cab, Theodore placed his 
 hand on my shoulder. 
 
 "Look after her, my dear boy." His voice had the 
 fervour of a benediction.
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION 247 
 
 My companion appeared to have shed much of her 
 distraction in the course of her interview with the weird 
 inhabitant of Bryanston Square. The sovereignty of 
 the soul seemed once more in her keeping. No longer 
 did she convey the impression of one passing through 
 an insupportable mental crisis. Whatever fate had in 
 store for her, it was as though she had strength to 
 endure it. 
 
 It was in the nature of a race against time to the 
 Grand Central station. I had promised the driver of 
 our taxi a substantial guerdon if he caught the train. 
 Undoubtedly he did his best, but fate decreed that he 
 was not to earn it. An anxious study of my watch 
 revealed the issue to be still in the balance; but just as 
 it began to seem that we were gaining a little on the 
 clock, there came a sharp report, followed by an almost 
 simultaneous crash of glass, and then a confused suc- 
 cession of happenings. 
 
 Our vehicle stopped abruptly; a brief interval of 
 nothingness seemed to intervene ; and the next thing of 
 which I was cognisant was that the lights had gone out 
 and that a man with a pale face and a straw-coloured 
 moustache was looking in at us through the window. 
 
 "Hope you are not hurt, sir." The voice sounded 
 remote, but I could detect its note of anxiety. "Is the 
 lady all right?" 
 
 Somewhat dazed, almost as if I were passing through 
 a dream, I heard the voice of my companion speaking 
 with calmness and reassurance. Then I heard the voice 
 of the man again :
 
 248 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "I am afraid your Royal Highness will have to go 
 on in another taxi." 
 
 And then the door opened, and I got out unsteadily 
 and found myself in the midst of much traffic and a 
 press of people. I then grew conscious that some of 
 these had a way with them, and that they were direct- 
 ing things with a sort of calm officiousness. 
 
 My dazed senses welcomed the helmet of a policeman. 
 
 "Call a taxi, please," said I, addressing him in a voice 
 that somehow did not seem to belong to me. "Must 
 catch the 5.28 Grand Central, whatever happens. Will 
 give you my card." 
 
 As I spoke I turned to help my companion out of 
 the vehicle, and in the act nearly measured my length 
 on the kerb. Strong and sympathetic hands seemed 
 to come about me, and again the voice of the man with 
 the straw-coloured moustache, sounded in my ear, de- 
 cisive but kindly and respectful. 
 
 "There is a doctor across the road, sir. Can you 
 walk, sir? Lean your weight on me." 
 
 "5.28 Grand Central," was my incoherent, almost 
 involuntary rejoinder. "The Princess." 
 
 "Yes, yes, sir," said the voice of my friend in need 
 breaking in again on my senses. "The Princess will be 
 all right with us." 
 
 Almost as if by magic a passage was made for us 
 through the whirlpool of traffic. We seemed to be in 
 the middle of a street that appeared quite familiar and 
 policemen and extremely efficient persons in dark over- 
 coats seemed to abound.
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION 249 
 
 "The Princess," I continued to mutter vaguely at 
 intervals. 
 
 "I am with you," said a low and calm voice at my 
 side. 
 
 She was helping my unknown friend to support me 
 across the road. By some subtle means her nearness 
 seemed to brace and stimulate my faculties. 
 
 "I fear we shall not catch the 5.28, ma'am," I said. 
 
 "What does it matter?" The tone of her voice 
 seemed to give me strength and capacity. 
 
 A few yards away, down a side street, was the house 
 of a doctor. It seemed but a very little while before I 
 was in a cosy, well-lighted room, with a fire burning 
 cheerfully, and a tall, genial individual with a red head 
 and a Scotch accent was talking to me and holding me 
 by the arm. 
 
 "Pray sit down, madam," I heard him say in his 
 pleasant brogue. "I hope you are none the worse for 
 your accident?" 
 
 "Not at all, t'ank you," replied my companion in a 
 cordial tone ; and then the man who had taken charge 
 of me was heard to say to a colleague who had followed 
 us into the house, "Perhaps the Doctor will allow you 
 to use his telephone, Mr. Johnson. Ring up the Super- 
 intendent and then go and see what Inspector Mottrom 
 is doing." 
 
 The Doctor gave me a bottle to sniff, and then for 
 the first time I realised that I had an intolerable sting- 
 ing in the arm. I glanced at it and saw that the sleeve 
 of my coat was soaked with blood. 
 
 "If you will come into the surgery," said the Doctor,
 
 250 MRS. FITZ 
 
 following the direction of my glance, "we will have a 
 look at it. A breakage of glass, apparently." 
 
 "Yes," said my friend in need, who was evidently a 
 Scotland Yard inspector, answering for me promptly, 
 "the cab was pretty well smashed up." Then he added 
 in an undertone for my private ear, "Don't mention the 
 shots, sir. I am going to telephone to the railway 
 people to arrange for a special train as soon as you 
 are ready to go on. I think it will be safer, and two 
 of our inspectors will accompany the train." 
 
 "Thank you very much indeed," I said gratefully. 
 
 Never until that moment had I fully realised the 
 organised efficiency of the Metropolitan Police. 
 
 As soon as I entered the surgery I came perilously 
 near to a fall on the carpet, somewhat to my disgust, 
 for I appeared to have sustained no injury beyond the 
 damage to my arm. Further recourse, however, to the 
 smelling-bottle defeated this temporary weakness. 
 
 After traversing the injured member with light and 
 deft fingers, the Doctor procured a bowl of warm water, 
 a sponge and a pair of scissors. He cut away the sleeve 
 of the overcoat, then of the coat and the shirt, reveal- 
 ing a state of things at which I had no wish to look. 
 After the application of an antiseptic in warm water 
 he was able to give an opinion. 
 
 "I am afraid," he said, "this is not the work of glass." 
 He worked over the quivering flesh with a finger. "A 
 bullet has been at work here. It has glanced along the 
 lower arm apparently, but it does not appear to have 
 lodged in it. An incised wound. There may be a frac- 
 ture. Can you move your arm in this way?"
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION 251 
 
 With this request I was able somewhat painfully to 
 comply. 
 
 "That is good," said the Doctor. "No fracture." 
 
 It was surprising how soon and how readily the in- 
 jured member yielded to the deft skill of this good 
 Samaritan. Twenty minutes of assiduous treatment, 
 which, however, was fraught with some pain, as it in- 
 cluded the operation of stitching, did much not only 
 for the damaged limb but also for its owner. By that 
 time I seemed to have quite overcome the shock of these 
 events ; and with my arm encased in bandages and rest- 
 ing in a black silk handkerchief, and the good Doctor 
 having lent me an overcoat to replace my own mutilated 
 one, I was given a pretty stiff brandy-and-soda and 
 pronounced fit to travel. 
 
 "It is undoubtedly the work of a bullet," said the 
 Doctor at the end of his labours. "But I suppose it 
 is no business of mine. If I am not mistaken, the men 
 who brought you here are Scotland Yard detectives." 
 
 I smiled at the Doctor's perspicacity and asked him 
 to be good enough to take a card out of my cigar-case. 
 
 "Some day, perhaps, I shall be able to explain to 
 you what the accident really was and how it came to 
 happen. In the meantime I cannot do more than thank 
 you most sincerely for all that you have done for me." 
 
 There and then I took leave of this true friend, and 
 with a sense of devout thankfulness that I was no worse 
 off than I was, I continued the journey to the Grand 
 Central station. When at last we came to that well- 
 known terminus the great clock over the entrance was 
 pointing to five minutes past six.
 
 252 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Our arrival there seemed an event of some impor- 
 tance, to judge by the demeanour of a number of people 
 who appeared to take an interest in it. Indeed, so 
 much respectful attention did it excite that it seemed to 
 be rather in the nature of an anti-climax to have to pay 
 our Jehu. 
 
 As soon as we had entered the booking-hall no less 
 a personage than the station-master, frock-coated and 
 gold-laced, came up to us and took off his hat. 
 
 "Train ready to start, sir, as soon as her Royal 
 Highness desires. Platform No. 5. This way, sir, if 
 you will kindly follow me." 
 
 We passed along to Platform No. 5, engaging as we 
 did so the good-humoured interest of the British Public. 
 Here a special saloon was awaiting us, also a carriage 
 for the accommodation of our friends from Scotland 
 Yard. By a quarter past six we had started on our 
 journey. 
 
 My companion had borne all our vicissitudes en route 
 from Bryanston Square with the greatest fortitude and 
 composure. It was no new experience for her chequered 
 life to be exposed to the bullets of the assassin. This 
 latest effort of the King's enemies she appeared to 
 regard with stoical indifference. Even in the shock of 
 the calamity itself she did not lose her self-possession. 
 And through all our tribulations her attitude of ma- 
 ternal solicitude was charmingly sincere. 
 
 As I came to regard her from the opposite corner in 
 our special saloon, it was clear that a great change 
 had been wrought in her by the visit to the magician 
 of Bryanston Square. It was a change wholly for the
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION 253 
 
 better. In lieu of the overwrought intensity which had 
 been so painful for her friends to notice, was that calm 
 and assured outlook upon the world of men and things 
 which had ever been her predominant characteristic in 
 so far as we had known her. 
 
 "Irene will scold me dreadfully," she said, "for bring- 
 ing you home like this." 
 
 "Surely it is the reverse of the case, ma'am. Instead 
 of me looking after you, I really don't know what I 
 should have done without your help." 
 
 "My poor Odo, you won't be able to hunt for a 
 month at least." 
 
 "Perhaps it is for the best. I shall have more time 
 to think about the dragon of socialism which is threat- 
 ening to devour us all." 
 
 "Even here you have that disease" there was a half- 
 humorous life of the royal eyebrow "even in this 
 quaint place. Why, it is a disease that is spreading all 
 over the world. If only the dear people would under- 
 stand that it was never intended that they should think 
 for themselves ; that it is so much wiser, so much less 
 expensive, so much more profitable in every way that 
 they should have those who are used to policy to think 
 for them! How can Jacques Bonhomme, dear, good, 
 ignorant, stupid fellow, know what is good for him, 
 what is good for his country, what is good for Europe, 
 what is good for the whole world!" 
 
 "The trouble, ma'am, as far as this island is con- 
 cerned, is that our Jacques is becoming such a shrewd, 
 sensible personage, who is learning to go about with his 
 eyes uncommonly wide open."
 
 254 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Ants and bees and dogs and horses, my good Odo, 
 are shrewd and sensible enough, but Jacques must learn 
 to keep his place. Everything is good in its degree, 
 but I cannot believe that a watchmaker is fitted to wind 
 up the clock of state any more than a common soldier 
 is fitted to win the day of Rodova." 
 
 "Ah, the day of Rodova! I wonder if we shall find 
 the Victor waiting for us when we get back to Dymps- 
 field House." 
 
 I thought a faint cloud passed over the brows of my 
 companion. 
 
 "Mais, out," she said in a soft, low tone. "I wonder. 
 And old Schalk. He is such a character. You will die 
 when you see Schalk." 
 
 "A very able minister, is he not, ma'am ?" 
 
 "Like all things, my good Odo," said her Royal High- 
 ness, "Schalk is good in his degree. He has his virtue. 
 He is learned in the law, for instance, but there are 
 times when like poor Jacques Bonhomme, Schalk would 
 aspire to take more on his shoulders than nature in- 
 tended they should bear. But there, do not let us com- 
 plain about Schalk. He is the faithful servant of an 
 august master; do not let us blame him if he grows 
 old and difficult. I once had a hound that grew like 
 Schalk. In the end I had to destroy the honest crea- 
 ture, but of course that is not to say my father will 
 destroy Schalk." 
 
 "Quite so, ma'am," said I, with a grave apprecia- 
 tion of the fine distinction that it might please his 
 Majesty to draw in the case of Baron von Schalk. 
 
 I relapsed into reverie. What kind of a man was
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION 255 
 
 this celebrated sovereign? How would he harmonise 
 with the humble middle-class English setting to which 
 he was on the point of confiding himself? At this stage 
 it was vain to repine, but as I reclined on the cushions 
 of our royal saloon, with my arm throbbing intolerably 
 and my temples too, what would I not have given to be 
 through with the onerous duty of entertaining such a 
 guest ! 
 
 As thus I sat with our train proceeding full steam 
 ahead to Middleham, my nerves began to rise up in 
 mutiny. Why, oh, why! had I not been firmer? What 
 could a comparative child, without the slightest experi- 
 ence of any walk of life save her own extremely circum- 
 scribed one, know of the exigencies of such a situation? 
 How could sht appreciate all that was involved in it? 
 A kind of mental nausea came upon me when I realised 
 that I had allowed myself to become responsible for the 
 personal safety and the general well-being of the King 
 of Illyria during his sojourn in England. 
 
 The anxieties in which his daughter had involved us 
 were severe enough, but in the case of her father they 
 seemed a hundred times more complex. Certainly they 
 were far too much to ask of any private individual in 
 the middle station of life. It was in vain that I invoked 
 an incipent sense of humour. Sitting alone with a 
 Crown Princess in a special train, with a bullet wound 
 in your arm, is not apparently an ideal situation in 
 which to exercise it. I might laugh as much as I liked 
 at poor George Dandin himself. His embarrassments 
 in the pass to which his wife's infatuation for realms 
 beyond their own had brought him might be truly comic,
 
 256 MRS. FITZ 
 
 but the married man, the father of the family and the 
 county member was quite unable, in his present shat- 
 tered condition, to accept them with the detachment due 
 to the true Olympian sense. 
 
 Not to put too fine a point upon the matter, the mar- 
 ried man, the father of the family and the county 
 member was in an enfeebled mental, physical and moral 
 state when our special made its first stop. With a 
 startled abruptness I emerged from my unpleasant 
 speculations. Could we be at Middleham already? 
 Hardly, for according to my watch it was only ten 
 minutes past seven. I let down the window and found 
 that it was Risborough. 
 
 In about a minute the guard of the train, the local 
 station-master and the two detectives who were accom- 
 panying us as far as Middleham, came to the door of 
 the carriage. 
 
 "Extremely sorry, sir," said the station-master, "but 
 you won't be able to go beyond Blakiston. There's been 
 a terrible accident to the 5.28." 
 
 My heart gave a kind of dull thump at this announce- 
 ment. 
 
 "The driver ran right through Blankhampton with 
 all the signals against him. The train has been smashed 
 up to matchwood." 
 
 "My God!" 
 
 The station-master dropped his voice. 
 
 "The full number of casualties has not yet been ascer- 
 tained, sir, but at least half the passengers are killed or 
 injured." 
 
 "How ghastly!"
 
 PROVIDES AN ILLUSTRATION 257 
 
 "Awful, sir, awful. It is the worst accident we have 
 ever had on the Great British system." 
 
 "Poor souls, poor souls !" said my companion. "God 
 rest them !" 
 
 "We haven't had a really bad accident for twenty- 
 two years. But this breaks our record with a venge- 
 ance. I can't think what the poor chap was doing. As 
 good a driver as we've got, to go and do a thing like 
 that " 
 
 The station-master, a venerable and grizzled man 
 with a stern, heavily-lined face, suddenly lost his voice. 
 
 "Fate," said my companion with a sombre smile. 
 "Who shall explain the workings of destiny?" 
 
 Who, indeed ! Had it not been for the bullets of the 
 would-be assassin we should, in all probability, at that 
 moment have been both among the dead. What, after 
 all, does our human foresight matter in the sum of 
 things? All the same, I could not help recalling with 
 a sense of wonder my Uncle Theodore's anxiety that 
 we should not travel by the ill-fated 5.28. 
 
 "You will be able to go on as far as Blakiston," said 
 the station-master, "and the Company has arranged for 
 motor cars to meet the train to take you on to Middle- 
 ham." 
 
 "What is the distance from Blakiston to Middle- 
 ham?" 
 
 "About eighteen miles." 
 
 When the train went forward the current of my 
 thoughts was altered completely. My former specula- 
 tions seemed mean beyond comparison with such an 
 event as this. Who shall read the ways of Providence?
 
 258 MRS. FITZ 
 
 A flesh wound in the arm and a late dinner were a small 
 price to pay after all. 
 
 Upon arriving at Blakiston we found two motor cars 
 awaiting us : one for the Princess, the other for our 
 escort. A consultation with the chauffeurs disclosed 
 the fact that by proceeding direct home via Parlow and 
 Little Basing instead of by way of Middleham, a mat- 
 ter of seven miles would be saved. Therefore, after a 
 wire had been sent to Middleham to inform our people 
 of this change of route, we entered upon the final stage 
 of our adventurous journey. 
 
 In spite of the fact that we exposed ourselves to the 
 charge of driving recklessly, even if not to the actual 
 danger of the public, our destination was reached with- 
 out further mishap. By twenty-five minutes to nine 
 we had turned in at the lodge gates of Dympsfield 
 House. All the windows of that abode were a blaze of 
 light. Doubtless the royal guest had arrived and, let 
 us hope, was enjoying his dinner. 
 
 However, no sooner had we entered the house than 
 we were met by Mrs. Arbuthnot. She was dressed for 
 a gala night, very decolletee in her best gown, carrying 
 a great quantity of sail in the way of jewels jewels 
 were being worn that year and with a coiffure that 
 absolutely baffles the pen of the conscientious historian. 
 But, alas ! Mrs. Arbuthnot was on the verge of tears.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 HIS ILLYRIAN MAJESTY FERDINAND THE 
 TWELFTH 
 
 His Majesty had not arrived, and the dinner was 
 spoiling. 
 
 "No news of the King?" I asked, keeping well in the 
 background, for I had no wish for Mrs. Arbuthnot to 
 observe my condition prematurely. 
 
 "Nevil said in his telegram that he would be here 
 about a quarter past seven, and it is now five minutes 
 past nine," said Mrs. Arbuthnot tearfully. 
 
 "Five-and-twenty minutes to nine, mon enfant, ac- 
 cording to Greenwich," said I as reassuringly as the 
 circumstances permitted. "Your clock is wrong by 
 half-an-hour. But there has been a bad accident at 
 Blankhampton. Would they come by Blankhampton ? 
 If they did, that would be bound to delay them." 
 
 "Oh dear !" said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "If anything has 
 happened to the King! And oh, Sonia dear, how late 
 you are!" she added reproachfully. "I was getting so 
 horribly nervous about you. And you not here to pre- 
 sent me or anything! But now you've come it is all 
 right. Just be a dear and have a look at the table 
 before you go up to dress." 
 
 The Princess, however, had scarcely had time to yield 
 259
 
 260 MRS. FITZ 
 
 to Mrs. Arbuthnot's suggestion, and I was in the act 
 of walking upstairs in a state of uncomfortable anxiety 
 in regard to the operation of changing my clothes, 
 when from the vicinity of the hall door there came the 
 sounds of fresh arrivals. I hurried to it, to be greeted 
 immediately by the voice of Fitz. 
 
 "Rather late," he said with that air of languor which 
 afflicted him on great occasions. "Line blocked at 
 Blankhampton. Devil of a smash. Tiresome cross- 
 country journey, but we've turned up at last." 
 
 "Safe and sound, I hope?" 
 
 "Right as rain." 
 
 As we walked together down the front steps to the 
 open door of the car that stood at the bottom in the 
 darkness, I was conscious that my pulse was a thought 
 too rapid for a tacit subscriber to the theory of de- 
 mocracy. I held the door while an enormous figure of 
 a man disengaged himself slowly, and not without diffi- 
 culty, from the interior. 
 
 I made a somewhat lower bow than the Englishman 
 in general permits himself. A smiling and subtle vis- 
 age, at once handsome and venerable, was promptly 
 turned upon me, and I found myself exchanging a cor- 
 dial and powerful grip of the hand. 
 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth ascended the front steps in 
 the charge of his son-in-law, while I held the door for 
 the second occupant of the car to alight. I made an 
 obeisance only a shade less in depth than the one I had 
 bestowed upon the Sovereign. Baron von Schalk was 
 small and dapper, with a face full of intelligence and 
 not unlike that of a bird of prey. As we exchanged
 
 FERDINAND THE TWELFTH 261 
 
 bows, it seemed that every line of it, and there were 
 many, was eloquent of power. 
 
 "I hope the journey has not tired his Majesty?" I 
 ventured to say. "It must have been very tedious." 
 
 Baron von Schalk smiled passively, made a deep gut- 
 tural noise and answered in very tolerable English, "On 
 the contrary, most interesting. The King never tires 
 himself." 
 
 At the top of the steps, framed in a glow of soft light 
 from within, were Mrs. Arbuthnot and the Princess. 
 Standing side by side, they appeared to be vying with 
 one another in the depth and grace of their curtseys. 
 No sooner had the King ascended to them than he took 
 a hand of each in his own and led them into the hall, 
 as though they had been a pair of his small grandchil- 
 dren. There was a spontaneity about the action which 
 was charming. 
 
 Half-an-hour later we were assembled in the drawing- 
 room. The King promptly offered his arm to his host- 
 ess, and led the way in the direction of her unfortunate 
 meal. His daughter placed her hand very lightly upon 
 the arm of the Chancellor, directing an arch look over 
 his shoulder at me as she did so, as if she would say, 
 "There is no help for it !" 
 
 Fitz and I, walking side by side, brought up the rear 
 of the procession. The Man of Destiny had a very 
 fell visage. 
 
 "What have you done to your arm?" he asked. 
 
 "Got smashed up in a taxi this afternoon." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "Oxford Street, I believe."
 
 262 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "What were you doing there ?" 
 
 "The Princess had important business in town, and 
 I went with her." 
 
 "Important business in town ! She never said a word 
 to me about it. Was she in the accident too?" 
 
 "Yes, but luckily she didn't get a scratch. And of 
 course this is only a slight superficial wound." 
 
 The slight superficial wound did its best to contradict 
 me by throbbing vilely. 
 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth sat on the right of his host- 
 ess, his Chancellor on her left. It is the due, I think, 
 of our recently and temporarily imported culinary 
 artist, lately in the service of a nobleman, to say that 
 he had done extremely well in trying circumstances. 
 There is no sauce like hunger, of course, but it was 
 observed that the King ate heartily, and, although verg- 
 ing upon the statutory term of human life, seemed not 
 one penny the worse for his long and trying journey. 
 
 He spoke English with an agreeable fluency. Not 
 only did he know this country very well indeed, but we 
 gathered that he was accustomed to find it pleasant. 
 Seen across a dinner-table it was clear that his por- 
 traits had not in the least exaggerated his natural pic- 
 turesqueness. It was a noble, leonine head, a thing of 
 power and virility, framed with a mane of white hair. 
 His eyes were heavy-lidded, but deep-seeing and almost 
 uncomfortably direct and penetrating in their gaze; 
 yet where one might have expected calculation and cold 
 detachment there was an impenetrable veil of kindliness 
 which served to obscure the elemental forces which must 
 have lurked beneath.
 
 FERDINAND THE TWELFTH 263 
 
 There were tomatoes among the hors-d'oeuvres, and 
 there were tomatoes in the soup. When the victor of 
 Rodova made a significant departure from the custom 
 of our land by smacking his lips and astonishing the 
 impassive Parkins by sayin, "Make my compliments 
 to de chef upon his consomme; I will haf more," his 
 hostess hoisted the ensign of the rose, and her Royal 
 Highness beamed upon her. 
 
 "There, Irene! what did I not tell you, my child?" 
 she exclaimed triumphantly. 
 
 "Oliver has a devil of a twist upon him, evidently," 
 murmured the son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth, in 
 an aside to his host of such deplorable banality that an 
 apology is offered for its appearance in these pages. 
 "I wish it would choke the old swine." 
 
 "On the contrary, he seems a quite kindly and pater- 
 nal old gentleman." 
 
 "Ha, you don't know him !" 
 
 I admitted that I did not and that I looked forward 
 to our better acquaintance. 
 
 The hostess and her humble coadjutor in the things 
 of this life felt it to be a supreme moment in the prog- 
 ress of the feast when the royal lips were brought to 
 the brink of the paternal madeira which had reached us 
 so opportunely, if so illicitly, from Doughty Bridge, 
 Yorks. But our suspense was resolved at once. The 
 victor of Rodova raised his glass to his hostess with 
 the most benignant glance in the world, and for the 
 second time Mrs. Arbuthnot hoisted the ensign of the 
 rose. 
 
 Certainly the royal expansion had a charm that was
 
 264. MRS. FITZ 
 
 all its own. Being called for the first time to my 
 present exalted plane of social intercourse, I had had 
 no opportunity of observing anything quite like it, 
 other than in the manners of Fitz and his wife which 
 had proved such a scandal to our neighbourhood. But 
 the victor of Rodova was so spontaneous in his actions 
 and so unstudied in his gestures, and he appeared to 
 wear his heart on his sleeve with such a childlike facility, 
 that to one nurtured in our insular mode of self -repres- 
 sion it was as good as a play to be in his company. 
 
 One thing was clear. From the first it was plain that 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot had achieved a great personal triumph. 
 And in the particular circumstances of the case I am 
 constrained to append the courtier-like phrase, "nor 
 was it to be wondered at." Speaking out of a mode- 
 rately full knowledge of the subject in all its cham- 
 eleon-like range of vicissitude, from grave to gay, 
 from lively to severe, in gowns by Worth, in frocks by 
 Paquin, in costumes by Redfern, in nondescript crea- 
 tions by "the woman who makes things for Mama," I 
 had never seen the subject in question keyed up to quite 
 this degree of allure. Mrs. Arbuthnot was magnificent. 
 
 The King beamed upon her and she beamed upon the 
 King. More than once he pledged her in the paternal 
 madeira ; and before the modest feast had run its course 
 Fitz gave me a stealthy kick on the shin. 
 
 "Tell her to keep her door locked to-night," he said 
 in one of his sinister asides. 
 
 The bluntness of the words was most uncomfortable, 
 but there was no reason to doubt their sincerity. It 
 was a piece of advice at which one so incorrigibly bour-
 
 FERDINAND THE TWELFTH 265 
 
 geois as its recipient might have taken offence. That 
 he did not do so should be counted to him, upon due 
 reflection, as the expression of some remote strain of 
 a more azure tint ! 
 
 "I know the King's majesty only too well," said the 
 son-in-law of Ferdinand the Twelfth. 
 
 When the ladies had left us, the King talked in the 
 friendliest manner and always with that engaging sim- 
 plicity that was so unstudied and so charming. He 
 was curious to know what I had done to my arm, and 
 when I told him he inquired minutely as to the nature 
 of the wound, and gave me advice as to its treatment. 
 This piece of consideration recalled the magazine article 
 I had lately studied. Here seemed a practical illustra- 
 tion of the fact that in a literal sense he was the father 
 of his people. 
 
 "You must shew it to me to-morrow," he said. "And 
 I will give you some ointment I always carry, made 
 by my own chemist to my own prescription. Schalk 
 laughs at my chemistry, but that's because he's jealous. 
 I will apply it for you, and in three days you will see 
 the difference. What are you laughing at, Schalk?" 
 
 "A man may laugh at his thoughts, sir, may he not?" 
 said Schalk, with a dour smile. 
 
 "Not in the presence of the little father, Schalk, un- 
 less he shares them with the little father. What are you 
 laughing at? But there, since you bungled that treaty 
 with the wily Teuton your thoughts are not of much 
 consequence. You know I don't care a doit for your 
 thoughts, Schalk, since you went to Berlin. The 
 thoughts of Schalk, forsooth! The wine is with you,
 
 266 MRS. FITZ 
 
 you rascal. Remember that in England it is not con- 
 sidered to be good breeding to get drunk before your 
 King." 
 
 "In Illyria, sir, that is always held to be impossible," 
 said Schalk. 
 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth indulged in a guffaw. 
 
 "Good for you, impious one ! Nay, fill up your glass 
 before you pass it, and keep out your long nose, else 
 our English friends will think we have no manners in 
 Illyria." 
 
 When it pleases a monarch to unbend, the laughter 
 his sallies evoke may seem overmuch for his wit. But 
 it is an excellent custom to laugh heartily at the humour 
 of kings. Ferdinand the Twelfth, in spite of his long 
 journey, was in a very gracious mood and indulged us 
 with many sallies at the expense of his Chancellor. 
 Baron von Schalk, however, was well able to defend him- 
 self. It must be allowed, I think, that the royal wit 
 was neither very refined nor very courteous. Rough 
 and primitive, it had something of a Gargantuan savour. 
 But his own deep-voiced appreciation of it was a per- 
 petual feast. He also told one or two stories of a true 
 Rabelaisian cast. They were told with an immense 
 gusto, and he led the laughter himself with a whole- 
 heartedness which was quite Homeric. Before the 
 bottle the victor of Rodova was magnificent company. 
 It was impossible not to respond to his unaffected, if 
 extremely catholic, good-humour. 
 
 When we joined the ladies we found them playing a 
 game of patience. The Father of his People imme- 
 diately carried a chair to the side of Mrs. Arbuthnot,
 
 FERDINAND THE TWELFTH 267 
 
 sat beside her and offered pertinent help in the arrange- 
 ment of her cards. 
 
 "But this game is only fit for people like Schalk," 
 he declared. "Britch is the game we play in Illyria." 
 
 Interpreting such a remark as being in the nature of 
 a command, the hostess swept her cards together, and 
 imperiously ordered her spouse to get the bridge 
 markers. 
 
 "How shall we play, sir?" said Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 "Togezzer, madame, you and I," said the King, with 
 an air of homage, "if you please. I can see you play 
 well." 
 
 "Oh, sir !" said Madame, for the third time hoisting 
 the ensign of the rose. "How can you possibly know 
 that?" 
 
 "Infallible signs, milady," said the King, laughing. 
 "Trust an old soldier to read the signs. First, your 
 ears, if I may say so. They have shape and position, 
 just like my own. That means a well-balanced mind. 
 And that dainty head, c'est magnifique! What intellect 
 behind that forehead! Now give me your hand the 
 left one." 
 
 Milady gave the King a much bejewelled paw. 
 
 "Ouf!" said he, "what ambition! You will never 
 hesitate to call sans at out. The heart-line is very good, 
 also. There will be no other partner for Ferdinand. 
 Schalk can have whom he pleases." 
 
 It pleased Baron von Schalk to choose her Royal 
 Highness, and a very interesting game began. 
 
 "We must take care, milady," said Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth, "we simple children of nature. I expect they
 
 268 MRS. FITZ 
 
 will cheat us horribly. Schalk has very little in the way 
 of a conscience, and nothing delights Sonia so much as 
 to overreach a confiding parent." 
 
 As he spoke it pleased this simple child of nature to 
 revoke in a very flagrant and palpable manner. 
 
 "No diamonds, partner?" said Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 "None whatever," said the King blandly. "I think 
 a small deuce will take that trick, eh, Schalk?" 
 
 "So it appears, sir," said the long-suffering Chan- 
 cellor. 
 
 I was led aside by the son-in-law of Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth. 
 
 "If you watch this game, old son," said he, "you will 
 gain an insight into the monarchical basis of the con- 
 stitution of Illyria. Let us watch what the plausible 
 old ruffian does with the nine of diamonds." 
 
 Happily the game was not being played for money. 
 But it was characteristic of the Illyrian ruler, that in 
 even the simple matter of a game of cards he was in- 
 capable of conducting it other than in a manner pecu- 
 liarly his own.
 
 CHAPTER XXV 
 
 THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE 
 
 IT WAS past two o'clock when the partie was dis- 
 solved. No sooner had our guests retired to their repose 
 than Mrs. Arbuthnot turned enthusiastically to her 
 lord. 
 
 "What a perfectly lovely old man! Such charm, 
 such distinction ; so kind, so unaffected, and oh, so 
 simple ! There is something in being a king, after all." 
 
 "Things are not always what they seem, mon enfant," 
 I remarked uneasily. 
 
 "He is a perfect old darling." 
 
 "He is one of the deepest men in Europe, as all the 
 world knows." 
 
 "He is a dear." 
 
 "Personally, I have no wish to meet him in a lonely 
 lane on a dark night, if I should happen to have any- 
 thing upon me that I cared to lose." 
 
 "Why, goose, you are jealous!" 
 
 "Put not your trust in princes, my child." And 
 reluctantly enough, I confided Fitz's piece of advice. 
 
 Howbeit I was more than half prepared for Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot's queenlike indignation. 
 
 "What do you mean, Odo?" said she majestically. 
 The outraged delicacy of a De Vere Vane-Anstruther 
 is a very majestic thing.
 
 270 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Either you promise, or I don't sleep over the 
 stables." 
 
 "This is all the doing of Fitz! He has an insane 
 prejudice." 
 
 "Fitz is a very shrewd fellow, and he knows our guest 
 rather better than either of us. You must not forget 
 that kings are kings in Illyria." 
 
 "I don't understand." 
 
 "You must promise, even if you don't." 
 
 "I shall do nothing of the kind. It is a humiliating 
 suggestion. Besides, it is all so bourgeois" 
 
 "I was waiting for that. But whatever it is, I have 
 quite made up my mind. Either you promise, or I don't 
 sleep over the stables." 
 
 "Then I refuse; absolutely and unconditionally I 
 refuse," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, with what can only be 
 described as hauteur. 
 
 It was our first impasse in the course of six years of 
 double harness. I have never disguised from myself 
 that I am a weak mortal. Mrs. Arbuthnot has never 
 disguised it from me either. The habit of yielding 
 more or less gracefully to the imperious will of the 
 superior half of my entity had become second nature. 
 But there was a voice within that would not have me 
 give way. 
 
 "Absolutely and unconditionally ! I consider it 
 odious. And why you should insult me in this man- 
 ner " 
 
 The star of my destiny was rising to the heights of 
 the tragedy queen. 
 
 "If you would only make the effort to understand,
 
 THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE 271 
 
 my child," I said patiently, "what is implied in your 
 own admission that there is something in being a king, 
 after all !" 
 
 "You are insanely jealous. He is a perfect dear, 
 and he is old enough to be one's grandfather." 
 
 For once, however, I was adamant. Together we 
 ascended the stairs ; together we entered her ladyship's 
 chamber. There was not adequate accommodation for 
 the two of us. The best rooms had been placed at the 
 disposal of Fitz and his wife, and of the King and his 
 Chancellor. Leading out of this apartment, however, 
 was a small dressing-room with a sofa in it. I opened 
 the door and, as I did so, delivered my final ultimatum. 
 
 "Irene, you will either do as you are asked, else I 
 spend the rest of the night in there." 
 
 "Pray do as you choose," Mrs. Arbuthnot was pale 
 with indignation. "But I shall not lock the door." 
 
 "So be it." 
 
 Leaving the door of the dressing-room slightly ajar, 
 I lay down on the sofa just as I was, and composed 
 myself for slumber as well as an entirely ridiculous sit- 
 uation would permit. Precisely how it had come about 
 it was hard to determine, but I was prepared to inflict 
 upon my overwrought self, for the events of that long 
 day had been many and remarkable, a still further 
 amount of bodily discomfort. But Fitz's hint had over- 
 thrown a married mato, a father of a family and a 
 county member, whatever the sense of humour had to 
 say about it all. 
 
 In the process of time I forgot sufficiently the dull 
 tumult of my brain and the throbbing of my arm for
 
 272 MRS. FITZ 
 
 my jaded nerves to be lulled into an uneasy doze. How 
 long I had been oblivious of my surroundings I do not 
 know, but quite suddenly a cry seemed to break in upon 
 my senses. I awoke with a start. 
 
 The room was in total darkness save for a thread of 
 light which came through the partially open door of the 
 adjoining chamber. But sounds and a voice proceeded 
 from it. 
 
 I rose from my sofa and listened at the threshold. 
 
 "Little milady. Little Irene." 
 
 The pleading accents were familiar, and paternal. 
 
 I pushed open the door and entered the room. A 
 distracted vision with streaming hair and in a white 
 night-gown was sitting up in bed ; while candle in hand 
 a magnificent figure in a blue silk Oriental robe over a 
 brilliant yellow sleeping-suit was confronting her. 
 
 "Little milady. Little Irene." 
 
 I fumbled for the knob of the electric light, found it 
 and turned it up. 
 
 I was face to face with a subtle and smiling visage. 
 There was astonishment in it, it was true, but it was 
 also full of humour and benevolence. 
 
 "Why, my friend," said Ferdinand the Twelfth in 
 his most paternal manner, "pray what are you doing 
 here?" 
 
 I confess that I could find no answer to the royal 
 inquiry. 
 
 In the circumstances it was not easy to know what 
 reply to make. Indeed so completely was I taken aback 
 that I could not find a word to say. Coolly enough 
 the King stood regarding me with that bland and subtle
 
 THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE 273 
 
 countenance. But as those smiling eyes measured me 
 they gave me "to think." I carried one arm in a sling, 
 I was without a weapon, and the Father of his People 
 was a man of exceptional physical power. 
 
 As a measure of precaution, I reached pensively for 
 the poker. 
 
 A transitory gleam flitted across the King's face, but 
 the royal countenance was still urbane. 
 
 "Madame should have locked her door," he said, with 
 an air of humorous reproach. "Dat is a good custom 
 we haf in Illyria." 
 
 "Your Majesty must forgive us," said I without per- 
 mitting my glance to stray towards the half-terrified 
 vision that was so near to me, "if we appear bourgeois. 
 The fact is we are not so familiar as we should like to 
 be with the usages of the great world." 
 
 The King laughed heartily. 
 
 "There is nothing to forgive, my good friend," he 
 said with an air of splendid magnanimity. "But 
 Madame should certainly have locked her door. How- 
 ever, let us not bear malice." 
 
 With a superbly graceful gesture, in which the 
 paternal and the humorous were delightfully com- 
 mingled, the King withdrew. 
 
 Horror and incredulity contended in the eyes of Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot. But I did not think well to spare her the 
 reverberation of my triumph. 
 
 "There is something in being a king, after all, mon 
 enfant." 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot was only able to gasp. 
 
 "Do not let us blame him ; he is the Father of his
 
 MRS. FITZ 
 
 People. But apparently it would seem that that which 
 may be bourgeois in the eyes of the matrons of the 
 Crackanthorpe Hunt is really the highest breeding in 
 Illyria." 
 
 Thereupon I laid down the poker as pensively as I 
 had taken it up, sought to compose the star of my 
 destiny, who was beginning to weep softly, and bade 
 her good morning. f 
 
 Outside the door I lingered a moment to hear the 
 key click in the lock in the most unmistakable manner. 
 
 With the aid of a candle I made my way to my 
 temporary quarters over the stables. The hour was a 
 quarter to five. Little time was left for further repose, 
 but it was used to such advantage that it was not with- 
 out difficulty that my servant was able to rouse me at 
 a quarter to eight. By the time I was putting the fin- 
 ishing touches to my toilet I was informed that Count 
 Zhygny was below, inspecting the horses. 
 
 Count Zhygny, to give our illustrious guest his nom 
 de guerre, which, like nearly all Illyrian proper names, 
 it is well not to attempt to pronounce as it is spelt, was 
 stroking the fetlocks of Daydream with an air of know- 
 ingness when I joined him. Dressed in a suit of tweeds 
 and a green felt hat, he looked the picture of restless 
 energy. Seen in the light of day he was far older than 
 he had appeared the previous night. Hollows were re- 
 vealed in his cheeks, and there were pouches under his 
 eyes. His hands shook and his brow had many lines, 
 but every one of his many inches was instinct with a 
 natural force. 
 1 His greeting was frank and hearty and as cordial as
 
 THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE 275 
 
 you please. There was not a trace of resentment or 
 embarrassment. But, from the manly ease of his bear- 
 ing, it was abundantly clear that the king could do no 
 wrong. 
 
 He linked his arm through mine, and together we 
 strolled in to breakfast. At the sideboard I helped 
 him to bacon and tomatoes, and Mrs. Arbuthnot gave 
 him coffee. 
 
 The manner of "little milady" was perhaps a thought 
 constrained when she received his Majesty's matutinal 
 greeting. To encourage her he pinched her ear play- 
 fully. 
 
 Mrs. Fitz did not grace this movable feast, and Fitz 
 and the Chancellor were rather late. 
 
 "You have taken a long time over your devotions, 
 Schalk," said the King. "I am glad it does not cost 
 me these pains to keep on good terms with heaven." 
 
 "I also, sir," said Schalk drily. 
 
 "I see you have the English Times there, Schalk. 
 What is the news this morning?" 
 
 The Chancellor adjusted a pair of gold pince-nez 
 and began to read aloud from that organ of opinion. 
 
 "Blaenau, Wednesday morning. The Illyrian Land 
 Bill was read a second time in the House of Deputies 
 this afternoon." 
 
 "Ha, that is important," said the King, laughing. 
 "What a well-informed journal is the English Times! 
 Do you approve of the Illyrian Land Bill, Schalk?" 
 
 "Since I had the honour of drafting it, sir, to your 
 dictation, I cannot do less than endorse it." 
 
 "And read a second time already, says the English
 
 276 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Times, in the House of Deputies. I always say they 
 have some of the best minds of the Kingdom in the 
 Lower House." 
 
 "Trust them to know what is good for themselves," 
 said Schalk sourly. 
 
 It was tolerably clear, from the Chancellor's manner, 
 that his royal master was enjoying a little private 
 baiting. 
 
 "Why, Schalk," he said, "I believe you are still harp- 
 ing on Clause Three." 
 
 "I have never reverted, sir, from my original view," 
 said the Chancellor, "that under Clause Three the peas- 
 antry is getting far more than is good for it. I have 
 always felt, sir, as you are aware, that this is a conces- 
 sion to the pestilential agrarian agitator, and I feel sure 
 the First Chamber will proclaim this opinion also." 
 
 "Well, well, Schalk," said the King cheerfully, "is it 
 not the function of the First Chamber to disagree with 
 the Second, and what is the Little Father for except 
 to soothe their quarrels by flattering both and agreeing 
 with neither?" 
 
 "Your Majesty is pleased to speak in riddles," said 
 the Chancellor with gravity. 
 
 "What a cardinal you would have made, Schalk!" 
 said his master. "But if you have really made up your 
 mind about Clause Three, we must look at it again. I 
 agree with you that it is not good for growing children 
 to eat all the cake. We must keep a little for their 
 elders, because they like cake too, it appears." 
 
 "Everyone is fond of cake," said the Chancellor
 
 THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE 277 
 
 sententiously, "but there is never quite enough to go 
 round, unfortunately." 
 
 "That is a happy phrase of Schalk's," said the King, 
 making the conversation general with his amused air ; 
 " 'the pestilential agrarian agitator.' Have you that 
 kind of animal in England?" 
 
 "We are infested with him, sir," said the member for 
 the Uppingdon Division of Middleshire, the owner of a 
 modest thousand or so of acres. "The people for the 
 land, and the land for the people ! The country reeks 
 of it." 
 
 "It is the same everywhere," said the King. "A 
 great world movement is upon us. The wise can detect 
 the voice of the future in the cry of the people, but 
 there are some people who stuff wool in their ears, eh, 
 Schalk?" 
 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth assumed a sort of indulgent 
 sagacity. This half-serious, half-bantering fragment 
 of his discourse and half-a-dozen to a similar tenor to 
 which it was my privilege to listen, seemed to establish 
 one fact clearly. It was that the King was not the 
 slave of his ministers. He was a man with a keen out- 
 look upon his time, deliberately unprogressive, not in 
 response to the reactionary forces by which he was sur- 
 rounded, but because he held that it was not good for 
 the world to go too fast. 
 
 His article of faith was simple enough, and in his 
 conduct he did not hesitate to embody it. He conceived 
 it to be the highest good for every people to have a 
 king ; a wise, patient and beneficent law-giver to correct
 
 278 MRS. FITZ 
 
 the excess of faction ; one to stand at the helm to steer 
 the ship of state through troubled waters. 
 
 Whether his conception of the monarchical condition 
 was right or wrong, he was able to enforce it with all 
 the weight of his personality. He believed profoundly 
 in the divine right. In the assurance of his own infal- 
 libility he seemed to admit no limit to his own freedom 
 of action. 
 
 He believed that the future of his country was in his 
 hands. It was in order to conserve it that he had come 
 to England in this singular and unexpected manner. 
 Having chosen a Royal Consort for his only daughter, 
 she whose act of revolt was but a manifestation of 
 sovereignty carried to a higher power, he was prepared 
 come what may to enforce his will. 
 
 All through this little history I have tried to show 
 how comedy strove with tragedy as the play was un- 
 folded. The spectators were never quite sure which 
 way the cat would jump. Infinite opportunity for 
 laughter was provided, but underneath this merriment 
 lay that which was too deep for tears. Viewed upon 
 the surface, the precipitation into our midst of such an 
 elemental figure as Ferdinand the Twelfth was food 
 for an inextinguishable jest, but the reverse of the 
 medal must not be overlooked. 
 
 Every hour the King spent under our roof was a 
 slow-drawn torture for Fitz and his wife. Holding the 
 romantic belief that they were twin-souls whom destiny 
 had linked irrevocably together they were everything to 
 one another. But running counter to it were those 
 incalculable hereditary forces which the King with in-
 
 THE FATHER OF HIS PEOPLE 279 
 
 comparable power and address was marshalling against 
 it. 
 
 Now was the time for the Princess to yield. In his 
 own person the King had come to demand of her that 
 once and for all she should take up the burden of her 
 heritage. If now she declined to heed, the days of the 
 Monarchy were numbered. 
 
 It was only too clear to us onlookers that a terrible 
 contest was being waged. In two or three brief days 
 the Princess seemed worn to a shadow ; the look of wild- 
 ness was again in her eyes ; her whole bearing confessed 
 an overwhelming mental stress. 
 
 Fitz also suffered greatly. And his travail was not 
 rendered less by the fact that Ferdinand did not scruple 
 to make a personal appeal. 
 
 About the third night of this ordeal, Fitz accom- 
 panied me to my quarters over the stables. 
 
 "Arbuthnot," he said, sinking into a chair, "I have 
 been thinking this thing out as well as I can with the 
 help of Ferdinand, and he has made me see that my 
 rights in the matter are not quite what I thought they 
 were. I do not complain. He has talked to me as a 
 father might to a son, and he has brought me to see 
 that our position in the sight of God may not be quite 
 what we judged it to be." 
 
 I was hardly prepared for such a speech on the lips 
 of Fitz. That it should fall from them so simply gave 
 me an enlarged idea of the forces that were being 
 brought to bear upon him.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 A WALK IN THE GARDEN 
 
 IN THE last resort the issue lay with Sonia. Her 
 husband had the wisdom to recognise that; although 
 his own happiness was at stake, the matter was beyond 
 the restricted sphere of the personal equation. 
 
 In the crisis of his fate it has always seemed to me 
 that Fitz displayed the inherent nobility of his char- 
 acter. Once the King, with immense force and cogency, 
 had revealed the situation in its true aspect, his son-in- 
 law, without abating a single claim to his wife's con- 
 sideration, yet refrained from unduly exercising the 
 prerogative conferred upon him by their spiritual 
 affinity. 
 
 It was wise and right that Fitz should detach himself 
 as far as possible from the conflict that was being 
 waged between father and daughter. But, although he 
 did what lay in his power to simplify the issue, he could 
 not banish the image of himself from his wife's heart. 
 He furnished the motive power of her existence. Emo- 
 tion held the master-key to her nature. In any conflict 
 between love and duty, love could hardly fail to win. 
 
 Fitz suffered intensely as the struggle went on. He 
 even threw out a hint to me that he might be tempted 
 to take a certain step to help his wife to a possible 
 solution of the problem. 
 
 280
 
 A WALK IN THE GARDEN 281 
 
 "The longer this goes on," he said to me in the small 
 hours of the morning, "the more clearly I realise that 
 Sonia's place is with her own people. I have been blind, 
 and I have been mad, and I owe it to Ferdinand that I 
 have been able to see myself in my true relation to the 
 issue in which fate has involved us. It is six years since 
 I first saw Sonia on the terrace of the Castle at Blaenau. 
 I was travelling about the world trying to find ease for 
 my soul. I knew that she was unhappy, and she knew 
 that I was, but we were young and not afraid. We met 
 continually, for I gained the entree to the Castle as the 
 grandson of the Elector of Gracow, whose daughter 
 married my grandfather, George Fitzwaren of tragic 
 memory. 
 
 "We used to sit out on the Castle terrace, Sonia and 
 I, night after night, watching the stars in their courses, 
 while her father dragooned his parliament and hood- 
 winked his people. She was lonely, outcast and un- 
 loved; there was none to whom she could speak her 
 thoughts; she was oppressed with the sense of her 
 destiny. 
 
 "She said that when she first met me she wondered 
 where she had seen me before. She said that my pres- 
 ence haunted her like a half-remembered vision, until it 
 began to merge itself into her dreams of a former exist- 
 ence and a happier state. And as she said this, her 
 voice grew strangely familiar. For me it unlocked the 
 doors of memory. It was like the faint, far-off music 
 you can hear sometimes, the music of the wind in winter 
 sweeping across infinite, illimitable space. 
 
 "She allowed me to kiss her, and we knew then we
 
 282 MRS. FITZ 
 
 held the key to the riddle of existence. We were twin- 
 souls made one again, and together we would go 
 through all time and all eternity. 
 
 "But I think we are beginning now to realise that the 
 sense of oneness is alien to the human state, and that 
 the hour is at hand when we must separate and go out 
 again into the night of ages alone." 
 
 In a condition of desolation the unhappy man rocked 
 his meagre body to and fro as thus he spoke. 
 
 "If it will really help her," he said, "I think I shall 
 put an end to my present life. At least, I shall ask 
 Ferdinand to do it, for I doubt whether any man in the 
 true enjoyment of his reason has really the power to do 
 it for himself. And yet, perhaps one ought not to say 
 that. So much can be done by prayer." 
 
 "Surely it is contrary to the will of God?" I said 
 with a kind of horror. 
 
 "It is, undoubtedly," said Fitz, "as regards humanity 
 at large. But it sometimes happens you know that one 
 among us plays the game up so high that he gets a 
 special decree. I almost think, Arbuthnot, that I have 
 heard the Voice and if I have, my unhappy Sonia 
 will be able to go back to her people for a term, and I 
 shall ask you, as my oldest friend, a man whom my 
 instincts tell me to trust, to accept the charge of my 
 little daughter." 
 
 To one poised delicately upon the plane of reason 
 such a speech could not fail to be shocking. But it 
 was so sincere, so reasoned, the holder of these views 
 was so entirely the captain of his soul, that his words, as 
 he uttered them, seemed to derive a kind of sanction
 
 A WALK IN THE GARDEN 283 
 
 which as I commit them to paper they do not appear to 
 possess. 
 
 The counsel of one man to another does not amount 
 to much in those cases where the subject-matter of their 
 discussion has been already referred to the High Court. 
 But I felt that I should be unfaithful to the elements 
 that formed my own nature, acutely conscious as I 
 was of their imperfect development, if I did not seek 
 to give them some sort of an expression at such a mo- 
 ment as this. 
 
 "Fitz," I said, "I can claim no right to address you, 
 except as a younger brother. You belong to a higher 
 order of beings ; your life is more developed than mine, 
 but I ask you in the name of God to refrain from the 
 step you contemplate, unless you are absolutely con- 
 vinced, beyond any possibility of error, that there is no 
 other way out." 
 
 The unhappy man made no reply. His face had 
 begun to seem unrecognisable. 
 
 I rose involuntarily from the chair in which I sat. 
 
 "Let us walk in the garden," I said. 
 
 The suggestion appeared to shape itself on my lips, 
 regardless of the will's volition. It was, perhaps, a 
 recovered fragment of man's heritage floating down- 
 wards from the past. 
 
 I opened the door and we went downstairs into the 
 garden. It was the middle of the night; what there 
 was of the moon was almost wholly obscured; the air 
 was mild with the purity of recent rain. Up and down 
 the wet lawns we walked, bareheaded and in our slip- 
 pered feet.
 
 284 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Suddenly lights flashed upon us out of the shrubbery. 
 
 "It is all right," I called. "Do not disturb us. Go 
 into another part of the grounds." 
 
 The voice seemed unlike my own, but the watchers 
 obeyed it. 
 
 Nature exhorted us as we walked in the garden. Her 
 purity, her calm, the incommunicable magic of her 
 spaciousness, the thrall of her splendour entered our 
 veins. We were her children, flesh of her flesh, bone of 
 her bone. The mighty Mother spoke to us. 
 
 A little wind moved softly among the gaunt branches 
 of a pine. 
 
 "I must make quite sure that the Voice has spoken 
 to me," said Fritz. 
 
 The unhappy man walked to the pine tree, knelt down 
 and seemed involuntarily to shroud his face with his 
 hands. 
 
 I shrank back and turned away. 
 
 Quite suddenly my heart leapt with surprise and dis- 
 may. An unexpected and sinister presence was by my 
 side. 
 
 "I pity dat poor fellow," said a voice softly. "I pity 
 dem both." 
 
 It was the voice of the King. 
 
 Habited in a voluminous mantle, the Victor of 
 Rodova linked his arm through mine in his paternal 
 manner. 
 
 "Come, my friend," he said in a voice of urgent kind- 
 liness, "let us walk in the garden." 
 
 Together we walked over the lawns, the King and I, 
 with slow and measured steps.
 
 A WALK IN THE GARDEN 285 
 
 "It is a beautiful night" Ferdinand the Twelfth 
 took off his hat. 
 
 "God is in His heaven, sir," I said softly. 
 
 "You are a God-fearing people," said the King; 
 "that is a good thing. What can we do in the world 
 without the fear of God? This night reminds me of 
 the night before Rodova. It was just like this, a calm, 
 soft air, a little moist. You could hear the wind creep- 
 ing softly among the pine-trees. At the bottom of your 
 garden there was the gentle noise of a little river. All 
 night the little fishes were leaping and playing in its 
 clear waters, and living their lives joyously as it seemed 
 good to them. And beyond the river were the Aus- 
 trians, sixty thousand men with horses and cannons. 
 
 "The God of Armies had given the soul of my coun- 
 try into my care. Was she to remain a free and inde- 
 pendent people as she had been since the time of Alvan 
 the First, or was she to be trampled under the heel of 
 the oppressor? All night I walked in the garden, and 
 I remember I knelt down under the pine-tree yonder, 
 as our friend is doing there. It is a wonderful thing 
 how history keeps happening over again." 
 
 The King's voice had grown hushed and solemn. 
 
 "To-night is another crisis in the history of our coun- 
 try. I am older than I seem; there is a voice within 
 which tells me that my course is almost run. That is 
 why I have come to speak with my daughter. It is the 
 business of us Svelkes to hold the balance in the scales 
 of destiny. Since the time of Alvan the First there has 
 been an unbroken line of monarchy; perhaps it is de- 
 creed that it shall end to-night. But yet I cannot think
 
 286 MRS. FITZ 
 
 that. The unseen power which enabled us to withstand 
 the might of Austria will invest my daughter with 
 wisdom and grace." 
 
 There was a footfall on the soft turf, and we turned 
 to find that Fitz had joined us. 
 
 "Ha! Nevil," said the King in a voice of paternal 
 tenderness. "I was explaining to our good friend how 
 this night reminds me of the eve of Rodova. Our lady 
 the moon was in her present quarter; yonder was 
 Mars, blood-red on the eastern horizon. There behind 
 us was Jupiter, exactly as we see him to-night ; but on 
 the night of Rodova Uranus was not visible. It was a 
 grave crisis in the history of our country ; to-night is 
 a grave crisis also, for I feel that a term has been 
 placed to my days. But I walked all night in the gar- 
 den, and I knelt down beneath a single pine-tree, and 
 the God of Armies spoke to me. 'Fear nothing,' said 
 the God of Armies. 'At the break of day, cross the 
 river that flows at the bottom of the garden, and all 
 will be well.' " 
 
 The light of the moon fell upon the King's face. 
 That smiling and subtle visage looked strangely lumin- 
 ous. 
 
 "An hour before daybreak," the King went on, 
 "Parlowitz came to me. 'Weissmann has come up in 
 the night,' he said, 'with twenty thousand men. If we 
 cross the river, all is lost.' 'Fear nothing, Parlowitz,' 
 I said. 'At daybreak we cross the river. The God of 
 Armies would have it so.' 'Then, sire,' said Parlowitz, 
 'give this to my wife when next you see her' Parlowitz 
 unfastened the collar of his tunic and took off a locket
 
 A WALK IN THE GARDEN 287 
 
 which he wore round his neck 'and tell her that it is 
 my wish that our second son John should succeed to 
 my estate.' I then bade adieu to Parlowitz, for he 
 would have it so ; and as the dawn was breaking he was 
 shot through the breast at the head of his division. But 
 that was a glorious day in the annals of the Illyrian 
 people ; and you, my dear Nevil, will have seen the noble 
 statue that has been raised to the memory of Parlowitz 
 on the terrace at Blaenau." 
 
 "I have seen the statue," said Fitz calmly. "A monu- 
 ment of piety, but abominable as a work of art." 
 
 "It is the work of the best sculptor in Illyria," said 
 the King. 
 
 "There are no sculptors in Illyria," said Fitz bluntly. 
 
 The King fell into a muse. I was sensible of Fitz's 
 grip upon my arm. 
 
 "It is wonderful," said the King softly, "how history 
 continues to happen over again. I seem to hear the 
 voice again in the upper air: 'At daybreak, cross the 
 river at the bottom of the garden, and all will be well.' ' 
 
 The grip upon my arm grew tighter. 
 
 "Do not leave me," said Fitz in a hoarse whisper. 
 
 All night long the three of us walked up and down 
 the lawns before the house. In one of the upper win- 
 dows was a light. It was Sonia's room. 
 
 Few words passed between us, and in the main it was 
 th'e King who spoke. Never once did Fitz relax his grip 
 upon my arm. Indeed, as the hours passed, it seemed to 
 grow more tense. It had the convulsive tenacity of one 
 who in the last extremity fights to keep the body united 
 to the soul.
 
 288 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Even I, who make no claim to be highly sensitised, 
 was susceptible of the ominous challenge of the force 
 that was enfolding us. Silence was even more terrible 
 than speech. 
 
 "For God's sake do not leave me !" said my unhappy 
 friend in a whisper of terror. 
 
 At last the first faint pencillings of the dawn began 
 to declare themselves in the upper air. My slippered 
 feet were soaked and my teeth were chattering with the 
 chill of the morning. A curious sensation, which I had 
 never felt before, began to steal over me. With a thrill 
 of suffocating, incommunicable horror I began slowly 
 to realise that I was no longer the master of myself. 
 
 Fitz's convulsed grip was still upon my arm, but the 
 sense of him had grown remote. He was slipping 
 farther and farther away. 
 
 "Hold me !" he whispered ; and again "hold me !" 
 The stifled voice was like that of one in whose company 
 I was drowning. 
 
 The voice of the King sounded quite near, although 
 it was with dull stupefaction that I heard his words. 
 
 "The day is breaking. The river flows at the bottom 
 of the garden." 
 
 The fingers of my friend no longer encircled my arm. 
 In the half-light I saw the King produce a revolver 
 from the folds of his mantle. He handed it to Fitz 
 with a paternal, almost deprecating gesture, and we 
 were both powerless to deny him. It seemed to me that 
 I was standing outside all that was happening. The 
 sense of distance appeared ever to increase. 
 
 I witnessed the King kiss the forehead of his son-in-
 
 A WALK IN THE GARDEN 289 
 
 law, and heard him give him his blessing. Then I 
 seemed to hear the voice of Fitz crying piteously : 
 
 "Sonia, Sonia, help me!" 
 
 "Look over there," said the King ; "the day is break- 
 ing. It is another glorious sunrise for the people of 
 Illyria." 
 
 "Yes, indeed, sir," said a voice that broke the spell. 
 
 The prayer of Fitz had been heard. Sonia had come 
 unperceived into our midst. 
 
 "I have come to taste the morning, it is so good," 
 she said. "And you, how early you have risen!" 
 
 The King laughed. He seemed to enfold his daugh- 
 ter with that visage of smiling subtlety. 
 
 "We have been walking in the garden, my friends 
 and I," he said. "We have had a pleasant talk to- 
 gether. The position of the stars reminded me of the 
 eve of Rodova, except that Uranus was not with us. It 
 is always well to know the position of Uranus." 
 
 I felt Fitz slip the revolver into my hand. 
 
 "Come," he said in his tone of natural decision, "let 
 us go and have a bath and get ready for breakfast." 
 
 While the King continued to discourse amiably with 
 his daughter we made our escape. 
 
 In the privacy of my room over the stables we re- 
 moved the cartridges from the revolver. 
 
 Fitz handed the weapon to me. 
 
 "Keep it," said he, "as a memento of Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth. I should have crossed the river if Sonia had 
 not heard my call." 
 
 Fitz shivered ; but in his haggard face I thought that 
 reason and sanity were still enthroned.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 PROVIDES A LITTLE FEMININE DIVERSION 
 
 AT THE breakfast table, Mrs. Arbuthnot was moved 
 to inquire of our distinguished guest whether he would 
 care to meet some of our friends and neighbours at 
 dinner. His incognito should be preserved rigidly ; and 
 perhaps a few fresh faces would serve to lighten the 
 tedium of his stay in our midst. The King assented to 
 the proposal with his usual hearty good-humour. 
 
 Personally I was deeply grateful to Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 for having had the inspiration to make it. I was pre- 
 pared to welcome anything that would withdraw me 
 from the perilous altitudes upon which I had been walk- 
 ing throughout the night. I might be said to yearn for 
 anything that could re-attach me to the humbler plane 
 of men and things, in whose familiarity lay mental 
 security. 
 
 After breakfast, however, when I came to discuss 
 this apparently innocent proposal with Mrs. Arbuthnot, 
 it was clear that something lurked behind it. 
 
 "I have got a little plan, you know," said she, with a 
 plaintive childlike air. "They have all been so uppish 
 with me lately that I have thought of a little plan of 
 scoring them off properly." 
 
 290
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 291 
 
 "By asking them to meet royalty and giving them 
 an excellent dinner?" 
 
 "There shall be nothing wrong with the dinner," said 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot, "but it ought to be very amusing. 
 I shall drive round to Mary's at once and ask her to 
 forgive the short notice, but Sonia's father has unex- 
 pectedly turned up and, much against our will, we are 
 having to entertain him." 
 
 "Where is the jest? The bald and painful truth is 
 seldom amusing." 
 
 "Goose! As they are all convinced that Sonia was 
 formerly a circus-rider in Vienna, what can be more 
 natural than that her father is the proprietor of the 
 circus ?" 
 
 "True, madame. But how will you explain away 
 his title?" 
 
 "It will be the simplest thing out. You can always 
 buy a title in Illyria, like you can here. The old circus 
 man has made a fortune and purchased a title accord- 
 ingly." 
 
 I confessed that that had a fairly plausible sound. 
 
 "They will swallow it, see if they don't," said Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot, giving an ever freer rein to her invention. 
 "And the old circus man is really too funny, and if 
 Mary Catesby and Laura Glendinning and George and 
 the Vicar and Mrs. Vicar, and that pushing little Amer- 
 ican would like to see for themselves, we shall be very 
 glad for them to dine here to-morrow evening. And," 
 concluded Mrs. Arbuthnot in a tone in which childlike 
 conviction and a natural love of mischief were excel- 
 lently blended, "just see if they don't, that's all!"
 
 292 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "But why, my child? I confess that I cannot see 
 any particular charm in such an entertainment." 
 
 "They will come, if only to score us off afterwards, 
 you goose. You don't know them as well as I do." 
 
 I confessed that I did not. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot lost no time in driving round to her 
 friends and returned in high glee with them all in her 
 net. 
 
 "What did I say!" she declaimed triumphantly. "I 
 called first on Mary. I knew if I persuaded her, the 
 rest would be easy. Well, you know her little way. She 
 read me a terrible lecture about the duties of my posi- 
 tion. As the wife of the member, my responsibilities 
 were simply enormous. Not on any account would she 
 sit down at the same table as Mrs. Fitz. But I drew 
 such a fancy portrait of the old circus man and of his 
 friend the ring-master, who was almost as funny as 
 himself, that I got her to consent. So she and George 
 are coming." 
 
 "Mischievous monkey !" 
 
 "Then I went on to the Vicarage. The Vicar had no 
 engagement, but he hummed and hawed, until I told 
 him Mary was coming, so he is coming too, and he is 
 going to bring Lavinia. Then there will be Laura and 
 the little American and Reggie Brasset, and Jodey, of 
 course. We shall be quite a family party, and it ought 
 to be tremendous fun." 
 
 "Won't Brasset and Jodey be rather flies in your 
 ointment ? Don't they know your guilty secret ?" 
 
 "I shall tell them all about it, of course, and they 
 will help us to carry it off. And I mean to ask Colonel
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 293 
 
 Coverdale to come too. He will like to meet the King, 
 and we must persuade him not to give us away." 
 
 I was in no mood to give free play to whatever I may 
 have in the way of a sense of humour. But Mrs. Ar- 
 buthnot's scheme, doubtful as it was on the score of 
 morality, had at least the merit of diverting the current 
 of my thoughts into another channel. It certainly did 
 something to lessen the tension. 
 
 Mrs. Arbuthnot laid her plans with considerable pre- 
 caution. She had a long and extremely animated con- 
 versation over the telephone with the Chief Constable. 
 I could almost hear the great man growl and chuckle as 
 she expounded her wicked design. But in the end he 
 was unable to resist her and he was in her net as well. 
 Jodey and Brasset, of course, were only too eager to 
 lend a hand, and both agreed with her "that they all 
 deserved to be scored off properly." Personally, the 
 workings of the "scoring-off" process were a little too 
 much for my enfeebled mental system, but I was in- 
 formed peremptorily that I always was a dull dog. 
 
 Determined to leave nothing to chance, Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not even went to the length of taking Fitz into her 
 confidence. 
 
 "You know, Nevil," she said engagingly, "how they 
 have behaved to Sonia and what they have said about 
 her behind her back." 
 
 "What have they said?" Fitz's indifference bordered 
 upon the sublime. 
 
 "Why, don't you know?" Mrs. Arbuthnot trans- 
 fixed the Man of Destiny with starlike orbs. "Don't 
 you know that when Laura Glendinning found out that
 
 294 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Sonia rides just as straight as she does and that she 
 looks much smarter, it made her frightfully jealous?" 
 
 "Did it indeed !" grunted the Man of Destiny. 
 
 "And can you believe, Nevil," the starlike orbs grew 
 ever rounder and more luminous, "she circulated the 
 story that dear Sonia was a circus-rider from Vienna !" 
 
 "Oh, really !" Fitz concealed a yawn in a rather per- 
 functory manner. 
 
 "And what is more, she got everybody to believe it." 
 
 Fitz's boredom was dissembled with a smile of twelve 
 horse power politeness. 
 
 "And so, to score them off," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, 
 rising to pleasantly histrionic heights, "I have invited 
 the ringleaders to dinner to-night to meet the circus- 
 rider's father, the proprietor of the circus, who has 
 made a fortune out of his show and has bought himself 
 a title, as, of course, you can in Illyria. And Baron 
 von Schalk is the ring-master of his circus." 
 
 The Man of Destiny guffawed with languid in- 
 efficiency and declared that the plot was like a comic 
 opera. In my private ear he recorded an opinion sub- 
 sequently to which it would be hardly kind to give 
 publicity. 
 
 "Nobody but a woman would have thought of it," he 
 said. "If it turns out to be funny, so be it, but I must 
 say it looks like spoiling a good meal you've got a 
 tophole cook, old son and making things damned un- 
 comfortable for everybody." 
 
 I adjured Fitz, who, like myself, was evidently in no 
 mood to appreciate refined humour, to wait and see. 
 Lieutenant-Colonel John Chalmers Coverdale, C.M.G.,
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 295 
 
 late of his Majesty's Carabineers, was the first to 
 arrive. 
 
 "Sailing rather near the wind, aren't you?" was his 
 greeting to his hostess, who in her best gown was a 
 ravishing example of picturesque demureness. 
 
 "I think it will go all right," said she. "Mary 
 Catesby and George will be too killing." 
 
 Certainly, when that august matron arrived she was 
 very grande dame and honest George five feet three 
 inches of meticulous good breeding. They greeted Fitz 
 and his wife with a distant reverence. Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth and his famous minister had not yet appeared 
 upon the scene. Most of their day had been spent upon 
 the much-debated Clause Three of the Illyrian Land 
 Bill. 
 
 Eight o'clock is the hour at which we dine in the 
 Crackanthorpe country. It is the established custom 
 for regular followers of that distinguished pack to be 
 extremely hungry at that hour. As the presentation 
 time-piece chimed the hour from the drawing-room 
 chimney-piece, there was a full muster of Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not's dinner guests: the Vicar and his wife, looking 
 rather pinched and formal, their invariable attitude 
 towards public life, yet the Vicar wearing a somewhat 
 worldly pair of shoes of patent leather and equally 
 worldly mauve socks and rather short trousers; Miss 
 Laura Glendinning, our local Diana, who looked horse 
 and talked horse and who would doubtless have eaten 
 horse had it been in the menu; my charming little 
 friend, the relict of Josiah P. Perkins of Brownville, 
 Mass. ; the noble Master enveloped in a sartorial master-
 
 296 MRS. FITZ 
 
 piece and a frown of perplexity ; his aide-de-camp, 
 Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther, enveloped 
 ditto, but leaning up not ungracefully against a corner 
 of the chimney-piece with his hands in his pockets, not 
 looking at anybody, not speaking to anybody, but with 
 a covert gaze fixed upon the drawing-room door in quest 
 of early information in regard to Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth. 
 
 In the middle of the salon the august Mrs. Catesby 
 discussed the Minority Report with the vicar of the 
 parish and Prison Reform with the Chief Constable, 
 whilst I, sharing the largest and most comfortable sofa 
 with Mrs. Nevil Fitzwaren, had to answer a succession 
 of sympathetic inquiries in regard to my arm. 
 
 "A mere scratch," everybody was assured. "Lucky 
 it wasn't worse. Fact is, those taxis are rather dan- 
 gerous." 
 
 The presentation time-piece chimed a quarter past 
 eight. The proprietor of the Viennese circus and his 
 faithful acolyte were yet to seek. Romantic figures as 
 they doubtless were at least, there was the authority 
 of the hostess that such was their nature the manner 
 in which they were obstructing the serious business of 
 life was hard to condone. 
 
 Little Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins came up to our sofa. 
 She gave a demure, down-looking glance at the fair 
 equestrienne seated by my side, who was decidedly piano, 
 which of course was as it should be, and made the 
 plaintive confession, "I am so hungry. I wouldn't mind 
 the hind leg off that satinwood table." 
 
 "You have full permission to have it," said I.
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 297 
 
 "Oh, no," said Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins, "it would 
 spoil the suite. But hardly any breakfast, a sandwich 
 at the Top Covert, in which there was hardly any hog, 
 one cup of tea at the Vicarage, and you know what 
 that is, and now oh dear! 
 
 In these harrowing circumstances I conceived it to 
 be my duty to find out what was toward. I yielded my 
 place to Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins, and as she collapsed 
 into it, I heard her say, "I suppose if you once get a 
 cinch on circuses you make a regular pile right soon?" 
 
 But as I made to go forth in search of Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth, lo and behold ! that monarch came in with his 
 minister. He was wearing no orders, there was nothing 
 to enhance or to distort his personality, but it struck 
 me that his bearing had a simple majesty beyond that 
 of any person I had ever seen. 
 
 "Make our apologies, milady," he said in a low voice, 
 which was yet quite audible to most in the room, since 
 upon his entrance the conversation had been suspended 
 automatically. "That mad Dutchman is waving his 
 torch over the powder keg, and we had forgotten the 
 time." 
 
 And then, with the greatest simplicity and good- 
 nature, he started to make a tour of the room, shaking 
 each man by the hand heartily, saying "Very pleased to 
 meet you, sir," and bowing to each lady in turn with 
 smiling gravity. He then gave the hostess his arm. 
 
 At the table I had Mrs. Catesby on my right hand, 
 Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins on my left. 
 
 "What a lovely man !" said Charybdis on the left.
 
 298 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "I don't believe," said Scylla, "that he has any con- 
 nection with a circus whatever." 
 
 "He is Mrs. Fitz's father, anyhow." 
 
 "What is his name?" 
 
 "Count Zhygny, but titles are cheap in Illyria." 
 
 "It is a noble head," said the great lady. 
 
 "Objective criticism is proverbially unsafe," I 
 hazarded. "His daughter has a noble face." 
 
 "He is just bully," Charybdis was waxing enthusias- 
 tic. "Quite Bawston." 
 
 The great lady addressed herself in grim earnest to 
 the serious business of life, and I am bound to say 
 although doubtless I am the wrong person to insist on 
 the fact that it was worthy of all the attention that 
 was paid to it. We were twenty-five minutes late at 
 the post, as Jodey had complained bitterly to his host- 
 ess, but the distinguished chef lately in the service of a 
 nobleman had fairly excelled himself. Good-humour, 
 nay, even cordiality, reigned all along the line. 
 
 "Are those pearls real?" said an imperious whisper 
 from the right. 
 
 "I am not a judge of precious stones," I admitted, 
 "although in the process of time I think I shall be." 
 
 "One can't believe they are real. If they are, they 
 must be priceless. What a wonderful head that man 
 has! And who, pray, is the other?" 
 
 "Herr Brouss is his name. The circus-ring is his 
 vocation." 
 
 "I once met a distinguished foreigner, a Baron Some- 
 body, a great politician who looked exactly like that. 
 It was at Spa or one of those foreign watering-places.
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 299 
 
 By the way, Odo, what did the other man mean by 'the 
 mad Dutchman is waving his torch over the powder- 
 keg'? I see in the paper this morning that relations 
 are strained between Germany and Illyria." 
 
 "It is one of those cryptic phrases to which we have 
 not the key." 
 
 "What a delicious entree! This is coals of fire with a 
 vengeance. I hope you are not living beyond your 
 means." 
 
 "Try the madeira I see our excellent Vicar has dis- 
 covered it. I am wondering, Mary, whether I could 
 win a little support again in high places, as an out-and- 
 out opponent of socialism in any shape or form." 
 
 "I will make no rash promises, Odo" the great lady 
 took a wary sip of the paternal vintage "but I will 
 speak to dear Evelyn if you wish, although you cer- 
 tainly don't deserve to be forgiven." 
 
 "I hope you will assure her that no one has a pro- 
 founder veneration for a poor but deserving class." 
 
 In spite of the fact that Fitz and his wife remained 
 silent and preoccupied, the progress of the feast was 
 marked by a temperate gaiety. The hostess was on the 
 crest of the wave. She made no attempt to veil an 
 almost indecent sense of triumph. Precisely why she 
 should have harboured it I cannot say, but she betrayed 
 all the outward and visible signs of that emotion. 
 There was a light in her eye, there was a piquancy about 
 her discourse, there was a deferential archness in her 
 attitude towards the high personages by whom she was 
 surrounded, which communicated themselves to the
 
 300 MRS. FITZ 
 
 whole table. In response to her sallies the reverbera- 
 tions of the royal laughter were loud and long. 
 
 "Toppin' good sort, ain't he?" said my relation by 
 marriage in a moment of expansion to Miss Laura 
 Glendinning. 
 
 "Who is a toppin' good sort?" said that literal 
 Diana. 
 
 "Why, the King, of course." 
 
 "I have never met him," said Diana. 
 
 "Where, pray, did you meet him, Joseph?" was the 
 severe inquiry of the Great Lady over the brim of her 
 madeira. 
 
 "In the paddock at Newmarket," said the young fel- 
 low, making a brilliant recovery. 
 
 "Fathead!" said the noble Master in a whisper of 
 indulgent languor. "You nearly blewed it then." 
 
 The royal laughter continued to reverberate. 
 
 "I suppose he began life as a clown?" said the Great 
 Lady. 
 
 "Nearly all these circus chaps do, don't they?" said 
 Jodey, who nearly suffered misfortune in a too strenu- 
 ous desire to preserve his gravity. 
 
 "Or as a bare-back rider," said I, taking up the 
 parable. 
 
 "One would certainly say a clown," said the Great 
 Lady. "Dear me, what manners!" 
 
 The port wine had appeared and had been duly dis- 
 pensed. At this precise moment Ferdinand the Twelfth 
 was giving the table-cloth a peremptory tap. He rose, 
 glass in hand. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen, my good friends," said he,
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 301 
 
 "I haf one toast to propose. We will drink, if you 
 please, to the health of le bon roi Edouard. God bless 
 him!" 
 
 Upon the Chief Constable's extremely prompt in- 
 itiative the company did not hesitate to follow the Cir- 
 cus Proprietor's lead. 
 
 "The King! God bless him!" 
 
 This incident, which the Circus Proprietor had in- 
 vested with such authority that it seemed perfectly 
 in order, nearly led to the undoing of Jodey and his 
 noble friend. Overborne by the emotion of the moment, 
 they indulged in a little side show of their own. The 
 toast of le bon roi Edouard, having been honoured in 
 form, the rest of the company sat down at once, but 
 our two sportsmen remained upon their feet. Filling 
 up their glasses, they turned towards the illustrious 
 guest and repeated the solemn formula : 
 
 "The King ! God bless him !" 
 
 "Sit down, you asses," said the Chief Constable in a 
 truculent undertone. 
 
 Nevertheless, the proprietor of the circus bowed to 
 them and smiled paternally. 
 
 "One shouldn't look for too much," said the Vicar, 
 "but I think the old fellow is a bit of a sportsman." 
 
 "Not at all a bad fellow," said honest George ex- 
 pansively. "Not at all a bad fellow. Not at all a bad 
 fellow." 
 
 However, a subtle fear lay within the breast of a 
 married man, a father of a family and a county mem- 
 ber, lest our excellent Vicar had spoken in excess of his 
 knowledge. I foresaw that the ordeal by fire was com-
 
 302 MRS. FITZ 
 
 ing. When the ladies left the room desperation urged 
 me to bestow a pointed hint upon the Church. 
 
 "Perhaps, Vicar," I said plaintively, "if you joined 
 the ladies? Not at all a bad fellow, you know, not at 
 all a bad fellow, but perhaps not er altogether 
 don't you know!" 
 
 "None the worse for that," said the hardest riding 
 parson in three counties, filling up his glass with com- 
 posure and with cordiality. "If you think the old 
 buffer can appreciate a yarn, I will tell that old one of 
 my uncle Jackson's. It is rather a chestnut these days, 
 but perhaps he mayn't have heard it." 
 
 The clerical effort was by no means vieux jeu. And 
 it is only just to the Church to mention that the style 
 of the raconteur compared very favourably with that 
 he affected in his vocation. Ferdinand the Twelfth guf- 
 fawed heartily, and replied with a couple of masterpieces 
 that brought the blush of shame to the cheek of mod- 
 esty. I am afraid there was only one cheek, however, 
 in which the emblem in question was able to find 
 sanctuary, and truth compels me to assert that it was 
 neither that of the Church nor the Police. 
 
 For nearly an hour by the clock the bottle was cir- 
 culated and we were royally entertained. Ferdinand 
 had had a rich and various experience of life. Much 
 had he seen and done ; he had made and unmade history ; 
 he was of the world, he loved it and he courted it; no 
 personality had emerged upon the European chequer- 
 board during the past half-century of whom he could 
 not discourse out of a full and intimate knowledge. If 
 it pleased him, he could pull aside the curtain and dis-
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 303 
 
 close the showman making the puppets dance in the 
 political theatre. 
 
 He spoke with immense gusto ; his zest of life was 
 magnificent, and somewhat strangely there was nothing 
 cynical or ignoble about his point of view. For the best 
 part of an hour he held the least wise of us in thrall. 
 He had an abundance, an overplus of nature, and subtle 
 and Jesuitical for want of a happier word as he 
 doubtless was, there was something humane and great- 
 hearted about him as a man. 
 
 He gave away the great ones of the earth, showing 
 them in their habit as they dwelt. He made them neither 
 less nor more than they were. Naught was set down 
 in malice, but his anecdotes mostly had a Rabelaisian 
 tang which sprang from a prodigality of nature. He 
 was a great and not unbeneficent force who drained the 
 cup of life to the lees, smacked his lips heartily, and 
 demanded more. His philosophy seemed to be to fear 
 God but not to scruple to use to the full all the noble 
 and infinite gifts of your inheritance. His rule of con- 
 duct, however, was not to measure men by their strength 
 but by their weakness. "Every man has his blind spot," 
 he said, apropos of Bismarck. "Find it and he is 
 yours." 
 
 Such a crowded hour of wisdom, wit and historic 
 revelation was an experience that even a dullard was not 
 likely to forget. George Catesby and the Vicar alone 
 were unacquainted with the identity of our guest, and as 
 far as they were concerned the cat was more or less out 
 of the bag. 
 
 When we joined the ladies we found that card-tables
 
 304? MRS. FITZ 
 
 had been set out. Mrs. Arbuthnot and Coverdale en- 
 gaged Mrs. Catesby and the King. No one watching 
 the play could fail to be amused by the Circus Pro- 
 prietor's caustic but good-humoured reflections upon 
 the performance of his partner. The great lady bore 
 it all, however, with a stoical humility. To my surprise, 
 she cut in for a second rubber, and her demeanour made 
 it clear to Jodey, who disdained games like "britch" and 
 preferred to watch the royal partie, "that she smelt a 
 rat." 
 
 "I expect the show has pretty well given itself away 
 by now," he said in an aside to his host, "but anyhow 
 they have been scored off properly." 
 
 The mystery of "scoring off" was still too much for 
 my inadequate mental processes. But I gathered that 
 there was a consensus of opinion among persons of a 
 more vivid intellectual cast that such indeed was the 
 case. 
 
 "We shan't half pull her leg, I don't think" in the 
 exuberance of the hour the young fellow relapsed into 
 a semi-lyrical music-hall comedy vein "about the old 
 circus johnny who drank a health unto his Majesty. 
 I only wish old Alec had been here, that's all." 
 
 "A digger, madame, a digger," said the Circus Pro- 
 prietor in a tone of humourous expostulation "when you 
 haf not a treek !" 
 
 The Great Lady accepted the reproof with Christian 
 meekness. 
 
 It was not until hard upon midnight that the depart- 
 ing guest was sped in divers chariots ; the Church in 
 the identical "one-hoss shay" of inimitable and pious
 
 PROVIDES A DIVERSION 305 
 
 memory. "So many thanks, Mrs. Arbuthnot, for a 
 really memorable evening," said the Church, with a wave 
 of a somewhat unclerical bowler. 
 
 Plutocracy in the little person of Mrs. Josiah P. Per- 
 kins had a Daimler of sixty horse-power. She gave a 
 lift to a less fortunate sister in the person of Miss 
 Laura Glendinning. The Great Lady and the excellent 
 George, "a good vintage sound but dull," as I have 
 heard him described by a friend and neighbour, had 
 recourse to a medium of travel of twelve horse-power 
 only, as became the representatives of our sorely im- 
 poverished land-owning class. 
 
 "Such a success, my dear !" said the Great Lady, be- 
 stowing her parting blessing. "But," in a voice of 
 mystery, "I shall insist upon the whole thing being 
 cleared up."
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 THE WRITING ON THE WALL 
 
 THE morning which followed these tempered gaieties 
 was cold and bright. The King borrowed my nicest 
 gun and, accompanied by his son-in-law, our retainer 
 Andrew and an old field spaniel who answered to the 
 name of Gyp, proceeded to put up a hare or two in the 
 stubble of the home pasture. My physical state pre- 
 cluded my raising a gun to my shoulder, but I deemed 
 it wise to be of the party. Accidents have been known 
 to occur, and but perhaps it is well not to pursue this 
 vein of speculation. 
 
 Destiny is a vague term which provides the veil of 
 decency for many secrets, and firearms have often been 
 the chosen instruments of its 'decrees. Doubtless I was 
 growing too imaginative. Certainly the adventures I 
 had undergone during the past few weeks had left a 
 mark upon my nerves, but when I recalled our vigil, 
 which was still so fresh in my thoughts as to seem 
 strange and terrible, I could not view the prospect of 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth and his dutiful son-in-law shar- 
 ing the innocent pastime of a little rough shooting with- 
 out a secret fear. 
 
 I am glad to say that the course of the morning's 
 sport lent no colour to this apprehension. The King 
 
 306
 
 THE WRITING ON THE WALL 307 
 
 was an excellent shot, and even a strange gun made 
 little difference to his prowess. He displayed both 
 science and accuracy. But to see him standing cheek 
 by jowl with Fitz, each with a cocked weapon in his 
 hand ; to watch them scramble through gaps and over 
 stiles and five-barred gates, for in spite of his years and 
 his physique Ferdinand was a wonderfully active man 
 who took an almost boyish pride in his bodily condition, 
 was to feel that the life of either was hanging by a 
 thread. 
 
 However, as I have said, all this was the unworthy 
 fruit of an overwrought imagination. The sportsmen 
 returned to luncheon safe and sound, with a modest bag 
 of the fowls of the air and the beasts of the field. 
 
 In the afternoon at the instance of Mrs. Arbuthnot, 
 whose happy thought it was, we all motored over to 
 inspect the Castle. The Family was understood to be 
 in Egypt and the ducal stronghold is the show place of 
 the district. 
 
 The rumour as to the Family's whereabouts proved 
 to be correct, and a profitable hour was spent in the 
 casual study of magnificence. The King took a gen- 
 uine interest in all that he saw. In particular he was 
 charmed with the view from the terrace, which is mod- 
 elled upon Versailles, with a long and far-spreading 
 vista of oaks and beeches and a herd of deer in the 
 foreground. 
 
 He expressed a keen appreciation of the Duke's col- 
 lection of works of art; yet he permitted himself to 
 wonder that a private individual should have such pic- 
 tures, such tapestries, such furniture, such porcelain,
 
 308 MRS. FITZ 
 
 such armour, such metal work, such carpets, such 
 painted ceilings and heaven knows what besides. 
 
 "It is pretty well for a subject," said Ferdinand the 
 Twelfth. 
 
 "His Grace of Dumbarton, sir," said I, "owns four 
 other places in these islands on a similar scale of mag- 
 nificence ; he owns a million and a quarter acres, of 
 which a portion is in great centres of industry, his 
 income is rather more than 500,000 a year, and he is 
 accustomed in his public utterances to describe himself 
 as a member of a poor but deserving class." 
 
 Ferdinand the Twelfth pondered a moment with an 
 amused yet wary smile. 
 
 "If he lived in Illyria," he said, "I think his grace 
 would have to be content with less, eh, Schalk ?" 
 
 "It would not surprise me, sir," said the Chancellor, 
 with an expressive shrug. "I confess it does not appear 
 economically sound for a state to allow its private citi- 
 zens to accumulate such quantities of treasure. What- 
 ever the measure of their public capacity I fail to see 
 how they can rise to their responsibilities." 
 
 "But if," said I, "the State mulcts his grace of a 
 f arthingsworth, it is immediately denounced as a robber. 
 Property is the most sacred thing we know in this 
 country." 
 
 "His grace came by all this honestly, I hope?" said 
 the King with an amused air. 
 
 "He came by it under forms of law, certainly." 
 
 "Which he himself did not make, I hope!" said the 
 King, laughing. 
 
 "No, sir; his grandfather and the nominees of his
 
 THE WRITING ON THE WALL 309 
 
 grandfather and so on managed that little business. 
 Quite a constitutional proceeding, of course." 
 
 "I appreciate that," said Ferdinand the Twelfth with 
 his subtle smile. "The British Constitution has long 
 been the envy of nations. I suppose our friend is a man 
 of great public spirit who has rendered signal service to 
 the British Empire." 
 
 "On the contrary, he prefers the pleasant obscurity 
 of the English gentleman." 
 
 "His forbears, then?" 
 
 "The late Duke was an imbecile ; and I am afraid if 
 any one took the trouble to search the records of the 
 family since it came to this country from Germany 
 about the year 1700, there is only one episode involving 
 signal public spirit recorded in its archives." 
 
 "A glorious victory, a Blenheim, a Waterloo, I pre- 
 sume ?" said Ferdinand the Twelfth. 
 
 "No, sir; peace has her victories also. This distin- 
 guished family has won the Derby Horse Race on two 
 occasions." 
 
 "A wonderful people, Schalk?" said the King, laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 Her Royal Highness clapped her hands impulsively 
 in the face of Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 "There, Irene, what did I say !" she exclaimed. 
 "Perrault! wherever you go in this little island you 
 find Perrault. My father has now found Perrault. 
 Even Schalk has found him." 
 
 "Sonia, dear, you are too funny !" said Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not with a plaintively childlike air of tacit condescen- 
 sion.
 
 310 MRS. FITZ 
 
 The King informed his grace's steward, a gentleman 
 with a bald head and a very conventional aspect, who 
 awaited us in the entrance hall to see us safely off the 
 premises, that he would like to write his name in the 
 visitors' book. Unaware of the identity of Ferdinand 
 the Twelfth and by no means approving of the general 
 trend of our conversation, the steward said with cold 
 politeness that he feared the visitors' book was only 
 used by .his grace's guests. 
 
 The King took up a piece of red pencil that lay on 
 a writing-table. 
 
 "We will write on the wall," he said blandly. 
 
 The steward was shocked and scandalised, but no heed 
 was paid to his protests. The King wrote his name 
 on the wall in bold and firm English characters, imme- 
 diately beneath Lely's portrait of the founder of the 
 family. 
 
 This accomplished, the King gave the pencil to his 
 daughter, who inscribed her name also. She in turn 
 gave it to the Chancellor, who followed her example. 
 He then gave the pencil to Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 That lady coloured with embarrassment, but at the 
 King's express desire she wrote her name too ; and when 
 it came to the turn of the Conservative member for that 
 part of the county he had no alternative but to obey 
 the royal command. 
 
 Our names duly appeared on the wall in the follow- 
 ing order : 
 
 Ferdinand Rex Irene Arbuthnot 
 
 Sonia Nevil Fitzwaren 
 
 Von Schalk Odo Arbuthnot, M.P.
 
 THE WRITING ON THE WALL 311 
 
 Upon the completion of this act of vandalism, the 
 victor of Rodova turned to the steward. 
 
 "Haf the goodness to inform his grace," he said, 
 "that the King of Illyria accepts entire responsibility 
 for the writing on the wall. It is the writing on the 
 wall for him and for his country." 
 
 As we went towards the motor cars which awaited us 
 at a side entrance, we had to pass down a flight of stone 
 steps. In the descent the King was seized with a sudden 
 and momentary faintness. He reeled, and had it not 
 been for the promptitude of the ever-watchful Chancel- 
 lor he must have fallen. 
 
 "Dat is the writing on the wall for the people of 
 Illyria," said the Victor of Rodova with humorous 
 stoicism as he recovered himself.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 THE CAST OF THE DIE 
 
 UPON the return to Dympsfield House, three tele- 
 grams in cypher were waiting for the King. Two 
 secretaries, who with divers other unofficial members of 
 his suite were staying at the Coach and Horses, were 
 in possession of the library, which had been placed at 
 the royal disposal. At dinner that evening we were 
 informed that the Teutonic display of red fire had pro- 
 voked a grave internal crisis in Illyria. The National 
 Bank was about to suspend payment; Consolidated 
 stock was at fifty-nine ; and his Majesty must leave these 
 shores in the course of Saturday. 
 
 I could not repress a sigh of relief, although, to be 
 sure, this was no more than the evening of Wednesday. 
 
 "Old Vesuvius is beginning to rumble again," said 
 the King with a laugh that sounded rather sinister, 
 "but he cannot make us believe in him. How say you, 
 my child?" 
 
 He looked across the table at the Princess, who was 
 as pale as death. 
 
 Here was the indication of the final and supreme 
 crisis for her and for her husband, and the hearts of 
 those to whom she had come to mean much were torn 
 
 312
 
 THE CAST OF THE DIE 313 
 
 with pity. Elemental, uncontrollable forces had her in 
 their toils. 
 
 Fitz, too, had all our pity. The strain of true 
 grandeur at the heart of the man, which all that was 
 superficial could not efface, had asserted itself in this 
 season of anguish. A lesser nature might have taken 
 steps to relieve his wife of the torment of his presence. 
 But in the watches of the night he had referred the 
 question, and now, come what must, he would meet 
 his fate. 
 
 There was reason to believe that he had already 
 thrown his weight in the scale on the side of Ferdinand. 
 He had stopped short of self-immolation, it was true; 
 he had placed another interpretation on the Voice ; but 
 it seemed to me, his friend, that his whole bearing was 
 a piece of altruistic heroism which could have had few 
 parallels. 
 
 "Ferdinand is right," he said as we kept vigil in my 
 quarters. "The interests of a great people are of more 
 account than a chap like me. I know it, and Sonia 
 knows it too." 
 
 The words were torn from him. It was curious how 
 this contained and self-reliant spirit yearned for the 
 sanction that it was in the power of a sympathetic 
 understanding to bestow. If he dealt himself a mortal 
 wound he must have a friend at his side. If he had 
 superhuman strength, at least he had human weakness. 
 Men of valour are proud as a rule. Fitz in the hour of 
 his passion had a humility, a craving for the counten- 
 ance of his fellows that I could only do my best to 
 render in a humble way. The walk of mediocrity saves
 
 314 MRS. FITZ 
 
 us from many things, but I suppose there are seasons 
 in the lives of some who wear its badge when we would 
 willingly forego its comfortable consciousness of im- 
 munity for some diviner gift. 
 
 It was as though my unhappy friend was bleeding, 
 perhaps to death, and I knew not how to stanch his 
 wound. 
 
 Neither of us sought our beds that night, but sat and 
 smoked hour after hour, in silence for the most part, 
 beside a dead fire. He wished me to be near him, almost 
 as a dumb animal yearns for those who shew a sym- 
 pathetic understanding of its pain, even if they are 
 powerless to make it less. 
 
 As thus we sat together my mind envisaged the 
 chequered career of my companion in all its phases. I 
 recalled him in his first pair of trousers at his private 
 school; I recalled him as my fag in that larger cos- 
 mogony in which afterwards we dwelt together. As his 
 senior, in those days I had unconsciously regarded him 
 as less than myself. But this night, as I sat with him, 
 consumed with pity for the tragic wreck of his fortunes, 
 I realised that he was one whose life was passed on a 
 higher, more significant plane than mine could ever 
 occupy. 
 
 It was good to feel that I had nothing with which to 
 reproach myself in regard to my attitude towards him 
 in those distant days. His fits of depression, his out- 
 bursts of deviltry, his dislike of games, the streak of 
 fatalism that was in him, his impatience of all authority 
 had exposed him to many hardships. But I was glad 
 to think that I need not accuse myself of imperfect
 
 THE CAST OF THE DIE 315 
 
 sympathy towards this fantastically odd, yet high and 
 enduring spirit. 
 
 Thursday came and passed in gloom. Even Fer- 
 dinand, that heart of steel, was feeling the poignancy 
 of the crisis. Throughout the day Sonia did not ap- 
 pear. But in the evening Irene sat with her in her room. 
 
 "If I were she," she declared to me later, with tearful 
 defiance, "I would not go back that is, unless they 
 accepted my husband as their future king." 
 
 "They cannot do that." 
 
 "I think the King himself is so wrong. He hates 
 Nevil, and he has not the least affection for poor little 
 Marie, his granddaughter. It is a dreadful state of 
 things." 
 
 I concurred dismally. Yet it was a state of things 
 arising so naturally, so inevitably out of the special 
 circumstances of the case that it seemed almost to for- 
 feit a little of its tragic significance. 
 
 "If only she is strong enough to hold out until Satur- 
 day," said my feminine counsellor. "But I am rather 
 afraid. She is quite weak in some ways." 
 
 "There is a weakness, isn't there, which is a higher 
 form of strength?" 
 
 "Can you mean that she will not be weak if she con- 
 sents to return to Illyria to marry the Archduke 
 Joseph?" 
 
 "She owes a duty to her people." 
 
 "She owes a duty to her husband and child." 
 
 Thursday ended as it began and Friday brought no 
 solace. The Princess reappeared among us in the after- 
 noon. She was pale and composed, and as the twilight
 
 316 MRS. FITZ 
 
 of the January afternoon was gathering, she and Fitz 
 rode out together. The King, at the same hour, walked 
 in the muddy lanes with von Schalk. 
 
 "They leave us to-morrow morning at eleven," Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot informed me, "and Sonia has not had her 
 things packed. I believe the worst is over. She would 
 have told me had she decided to go." 
 
 I was unable to share her optimism. From the first 
 I had felt that the stars in their courses would prove 
 too much for the unhappy lady. And nothing had 
 occurred to remove that fear. 
 
 The King returned from his walk, and suave and 
 subtle of countenance, it pleased him to toy with a cup 
 of Mrs. Arbuthnot's tea, while he toasted his muddy 
 gaiters at the fire. 
 
 "My daughter has not returned from her ride?" 
 
 "No, sir," I informed him. 
 
 "The last ride together," said the King gently. "One 
 of your excellent English poets has a poem about it, 
 has he not?" 
 
 A thrill passed through my nerves at the almost cruel 
 directness of the King's speech. I saw that in the same 
 moment the eyes of Mrs. Arbuthnot had filled with tears. 
 
 "You have great poets in England," said the King 
 softly. "They are the chief glories of a nation, and 
 your country is rich in them. We have great poets in 
 Illyria also. There is Bolder. We are all proud to be 
 the countrymen of Bolder. When you come to see us 
 at Blaenau I think you will like to meet him." 
 
 As the King spoke in his paternal voice, I was con- 
 scious of his hand upon the breast of my coat. He had
 
 THE CAST OF THE DIE 317 
 
 pinned a piece of black ribbon upon it, to which was 
 attached a silver star. 
 
 "I am afraid, sir," I said, suffering some embarrass- 
 ment, "no man ever did less to deserve the Order of 
 the Silver Star of Illyria." 
 
 The King took my hand in his with that wonderful 
 cordial sympathy that was so hard to resist. 
 
 "A friend in need is a friend indeed, Mr. Arbuthnot, 
 as your English saying has it. And, madame, when 
 together we lead the cotillon at Blaenau, I hope you 
 will honour us by wearing this." 
 
 The King laid a jewel of much beauty upon the tea- 
 table. 
 
 "Oh, sir," said Mrs. Arbuthnot, smiling faintly 
 through wet eyelashes. 
 
 Standing before the fire, tea-cup in hand, the King 
 talked to us quite simply and pleasantly and sincerely. 
 He was a man of great power of mind and his outlook 
 upon life was large and direct. 
 
 "You have many ways in this country that I should 
 like to see in ours," he said. "But we in Illyria make 
 haste slowly. The climate is not so bracing. I am 
 afraid we do not think so forcibly. And there is a wider 
 gulf between the rich and the poor." 
 
 There was a note of regret in the King's tone. He 
 seemed to be turning his eyes to the future, and in the 
 process his face grew tired and melancholy. It was then 
 that I realised that this man of infinite vigour and 
 power was said to be near the end of his course. 
 
 At dinner we were enlivened by his gaiety. His 
 charm was hard to resist, so rich and full it was and so
 
 318 MRS. FITZ 
 
 spontaneous. But my thoughts strayed ever away from 
 the King, his wisdom and his persiflage, to those who 
 were one flesh in the sight of God, who were dining 
 together for the last time. 
 
 Their courage was a noble, even an amazing thing. 
 The stoicism with which they ate and drank and bore a 
 part in the conversation while a chasm had opened be- 
 neath their feet was almost incredible. Throughout the 
 perpetual oscillation from comedy to tragedy, from 
 tragedy to comedy, from comedy to tragedy again of 
 their life together, they had borne their parts with a 
 heroic constancy, and even in this dark phase they were 
 equal to their task. 
 
 The die was cast. On the morrow the Princess would 
 return to her people, marry the Archduke, and when 
 the time came accept the throne. It was part of the 
 dreadful covenant the King had exacted that she would 
 never see Fitz and their child again. 
 
 I passed a night of weary wretchedness. Do what I 
 would, I could not keep Fitz out of my thoughts. About 
 three o'clock I rose and dressed and put on my over- 
 coat and walked out into the garden. Somehow I ex- 
 pected to find him there. But there was not a trace of 
 him, and every window in the house was dark. A spirit 
 of desolation seemed to pervade everything so dark 
 and chill was the night. There was not a star to be 
 seen. 
 
 I went back to my room, coaxed up the fire, seated 
 myself beside it and lit a pipe. Presently I heard a 
 footfall on the stairs. It was Irene, pale and weary
 
 THE CAST OF THE DIE 319 
 
 with much weeping. Daylight found her asleep in my 
 arms with her head on my shoulder. 
 
 The day of the King's departure had come at last. 
 There was a general scurry of preparation, but pre- 
 cisely at eleven o'clock a procession of six motor cars 
 started from our door for Middleham railway station, 
 whence a special train would proceed to Southampton. 
 It was Sonia's wish that Irene and I should accompany 
 her to the train ; and poor Fitz, half stunned as he was, 
 determined to play out the game to the end, and with 
 one of his odd outbursts of cynicism affirmed his sports- 
 manlike intention of "being in at the death." 
 
 The King, his daughter, the Chancellor, and Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot were in the second car, preceded by a special 
 escort from Scotland Yard. Fitz and I had the third 
 to ourselves ; the Secretaries were in the fourth ; the 
 fifth and six conveyed the valets, her Royal Highness's 
 maid and a considerable quantity of luggage. 
 
 As the procession, at the modest rate of twelve miles 
 an hour, came into the pleasant village of Lymeswold, 
 where our revered Vicar has his cure of souls, there 
 was a considerable amount of bunting displayed in the 
 vicinity of the Coach and Horses. And from the win- 
 dows of the Rectory itself depended the Union Jack 
 side by side with the silver Star of Illyria on a green 
 ground. Mrs. Vicar waved a white pocket handkerchief 
 from the gate of the manse, but the Vicar was bearing 
 a chief part in a more dramatic tableau that had been 
 arranged on the village green. Here the village school 
 was drawn up, the girls in nice white pinafores and the 
 boys looking almost painfully well washed. Each had
 
 320 MRS. FITZ 
 
 a small flag that was waved frantically, and the Vicar 
 standing at their head led a prodigious quantity of 
 cheering, while Ferdinand the Twelfth took off his hat 
 and bowed. 
 
 But all this was merely a prelude to the historic spec- 
 tacle that we came upon presently. At the top of the 
 steep hill leading to the Marl Pits, that favourite haunt 
 of "the stinkin' Middleshire phocks," lo and behold ! all 
 the Crackanthorpe horses, all the Crackanthorpe men, 
 not to mention their ladies, their hounds and the entire 
 hunt establishment, even unto Peter the terrier, were 
 assembled in full array of battle, as became the hour 
 of eleven o'clock in the morning of a rare scenting day 
 in the middle of January. The cavalcade lined each 
 side of the road, and our motor cars passed through it 
 on their lowest speed, to a running accompaniment of 
 cheers and hunting noises and a waving of hats and 
 handkerchiefs. 
 
 Evidently the scene had been carefully stage-managed 
 and formed a handsome and appropriate amende. It 
 did not fail of its appeal to the broken-hearted circus 
 rider from Vienna. She responded by kissing her hand 
 repeatedly, and her father lifted his hat and bowed 
 continually as though it were a state procession. 
 
 The heart of Mrs. Arbuthnot was in pieces, but it 
 was a great moment in the history of the clan. The 
 china blue eyes were brimming over with their tears, but 
 they were still capable of radiating a subtle feminine 
 light of triumph. 
 
 The noble Master blew a blast on his horn and his 
 aide-de-camp, Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-Anstruther,
 
 THE CAST OF THE DIE 321 
 
 marked the royal progress by hoisting his hat on his 
 whip. As we passed Mrs. Catesby, who looked very 
 red, the brims of whose hat looked wider and whose 
 whole appearance approximated more nearly than ever 
 to that of Mr. Weller the Elder, I bestowed a special 
 salutation upon her, of, I fear, somewhat ironical di- 
 mensions. The Great Lady responded by shaking her 
 whip at me in a decidedly truculent manner. 
 
 Our procession passed on to Middleham railway sta- 
 tion, which we reached about a quarter to twelve. A 
 considerable crowd had assembled about its precincts. 
 The roadway and the entrance to the station were 
 guarded by a body of mounted police, and a small de- 
 tachment of the Middleshire Yeomanry in the charge 
 of no less a person than Major George Catesby who 
 saluted us with his sword. 
 
 On the platform we were received by a number of 
 local dignitaries, and foremost among these, tall and 
 austere, but with the faint light of humour in his coun- 
 tenance, was Lieutenant-Colonel John Chalmers Cover- 
 dale, C.M.G., late of his Majesty's Carabineers. 
 
 The King and his Chancellor took a brief but cordial 
 leave of us and stepped briskly into the royal saloon; 
 and then I felt the pressure of a woman's hand, and I 
 heard a low broken whisper, "Be good for my sake to 
 Nevil and little Marie." The Princess then took the 
 hands of Mrs. Arbuthnot in each of her own, kissed her 
 wet cheeks, and was handed into the train by her hus- 
 band she had promised never to see in this life again.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 REACTION 
 
 THE week that followed the royal departure was a 
 season of reaction at Dympsfield House. The tension 
 of our recent life had been well nigh unendurable. But 
 now the die was cast, the problem solved ; we could live 
 and move and enjoy our being according to our wont. 
 
 To be sure the unhappy Fitz was still our anxiety. 
 He and his small daughter were still under our roof, 
 and would so remain until the house of his fathers had 
 been rebuilt or until such time as he should choose some 
 other asylum for his shattered life. 
 
 It is not too much to say that Fitz, with all his quid- 
 dity, had become dear to us. The tragic wreck of his 
 life had called forth all that latent nobility which I at 
 any rate, as his oldest friend, had always known to be 
 there. His submission to the fate which he had himself 
 invoked had seemed to soften the grosser elements that 
 were in his clay. He had now only his small elf of four 
 to live for. In that vivid atom of mortality were re- 
 produced many of the characteristics of the ill-starred 
 "circus rider from Vienna." 
 
 During the first few days a kind of stupor lay upon 
 Fitz. He hardly seemed able to realise what had hap- 
 pened. He went out hunting and actively superintended 
 
 322
 
 REACTION 323 
 
 the rebuilding of the Grange, almost as if nothing had 
 occurred to him. But all too soon, this merciful veil 
 was withdrawn from his mind. He became consumed by 
 restlessness. He could not sleep nor eat his food; he 
 could not settle to any sort of occupation ; nothing 
 seemed able to engage his interest; his mind lost its 
 stability, and slowly but surely his will began to lose 
 that reawakened power that it had seemed to be the 
 special function of his marriage to sustain and promote. 
 
 By the time the first week had passed we began to 
 have forebodings. Already signs were not wanting that 
 the demons of a sinister inheritance were silently mar- 
 shalling themselves in order that they might swoop down 
 upon him. One afternoon I found him asleep on a sofa 
 drunk. 
 
 As Coverdale was well acquainted with his tempera- 
 ment and all the most salient facts in its history, and 
 as, moreover, he was a man for whose natural soundness 
 of judgment I had the greatest respect, I was moved 
 to take him into my confidence. 
 
 "He must get away from England," said Coverdale, 
 "for a time at any rate. And he must go soon." 
 
 This was an opinion with which I agreed. It hap- 
 pened that Coverdale knew a man who was about to 
 start on a journey across Equatorial Africa and who 
 proposed to form a hunting camp and indulge in some 
 big game shooting by the way. Such a scheme appeared 
 so eminently suited to Fitz's immediate needs that I 
 hailed it gladly. 
 
 Alas! when I discussed this project with him he de- 
 clined wholly to entertain it ; moreover he declined with
 
 324 MRS. FITZ 
 
 all that odd decision which was one of his chief char- 
 acteristics. 
 
 "No," he said. "I must stay here and see to the 
 building of the house and I must look after Marie." 
 
 It was in vain that I launched my arguments. The 
 scheme did not appeal to him and there, as far as he 
 was concerned, was the end to the matter. 
 
 "I must look after Marie," he said. "We are getting 
 her to do sums. Her mother could never do a sum to 
 save her life." 
 
 Argument was vain. Such a nature was incapable 
 of accepting a suggestion from an outside source; the 
 mainspring of all its actions lay within. 
 
 The total failure of the attempt to get him to respond 
 to so hopeful an alternative vexed me sorely. At the 
 time it seemed to promise the only means of saving him 
 from the danger which already had him in its toils. He 
 grew more and more restless ; his distaste for food grew 
 more pronounced, and in an appallingly short time it 
 became clear to us that whatever there remained to be 
 done for him must be done at once. 
 
 We were helpless nevertheless. To anything in the 
 nature of persuasion he remained impervious. He could 
 not be brought to see the nearness of the danger. It was 
 like him never to heed the question of cost. He could 
 never have ordered his life as he had done, had he not 
 had the quality of projecting the whole of himself into 
 the actual hour. 
 
 Those who had his welfare at heart were still taking 
 counsel one of another in respect of what could be done 
 to help him through this new crisis, when a mandate was
 
 REACTION 325 
 
 received from Mrs. Catesby to dine at the Hermitage. 
 Fitz was included in it, but it did not surprise us that 
 he declined an invitation which less uncompromising 
 persons were inclined to regard in the light of a com- 
 mand. 
 
 It was not that he bore malice. He was altogether 
 beyond the pettiness of the minor emotions ; it was 
 as though his entire being, for good or for evil, had 
 been raised to another dimension or higher power. But 
 as he said with his haggard face, "I don't feel up to it." 
 
 Lowlier mortals, more specifically Mrs. Arbuthnot 
 and myself, accepted humbly and contritely. We felt 
 that a certain piquancy would invest the gathering. 
 Not that we knew exactly who had been bidden to attend 
 it, but Mrs. Arbuthnot's feminine instinct and what is 
 so impeccable in such matters as these? proclaimed 
 this dinner party to be neither more nor less than the 
 public signature of the articles of peace. 
 
 Accordingly we set out for the Hermitage, not how- 
 ever without a certain travail of the spirit, for poor 
 Fitz would be left to a lonely cutlet which he would not 
 eat. As a matter of fact, when we went forth he had 
 not returned from London where he had spent most of 
 the day in consultation with his solicitors. 
 
 There assembled at the Hermitage, at which we ar- 
 rived in very good time, nearly every identical member 
 of the company we expected to meet. Coverdale, Bras- 
 set, Jodey, who still enjoyed the hospitality of our 
 neighbour, the Vicar and his Lavinia, Laura Glendin- 
 ning, Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins. Also as became one whose 
 house provided a kind of via media to that greater world
 
 326 MRS. FITZ 
 
 of which the Castle was the embodiment, Mrs. Catesby's 
 dinner table was graced by a younger son and a daugh- 
 ter-in-law of the ducal house. 
 
 Good humour reigned. It might even be said to 
 amount in the course of the pleasant process of degluti- 
 tion to a sort of friendly badinage. An atmosphere 
 of tolerance pervaded all things. If bygones were not 
 actually bygones, they were in a fair way of so becom- 
 ing. At least this particular section of the Crackan- 
 thorpe Hunt was on the high road to being once again a 
 happy and united family. 
 
 The revelation of the "Stormy Petrel's" identity had 
 had a magic influence upon an immense aggregation of 
 wounded feelings. It was now felt pretty generally 
 that all might be forgiven without any grave sacrifice 
 of personal dignity. It was conceded that great spirit 
 had been shown on both sides, but in the special and 
 peculiar circumstances a display of Christian mag- 
 nanimity was called for. 
 
 Irene was morally and wickedly wrong the phrase is 
 Mrs. Catesby's own in keeping the secret so well. Of 
 course "the circus proprietor" had deceived nobody: it 
 was merely childish for Irene to suppose for one single 
 moment that he would ; and for her to attempt "a score" 
 of that puerile character was positively infantile. But 
 in the opinion of the assembled jury of matrons, plus 
 Miss Laura Glendinning specially co-opted, it was felt 
 very strongly that Irene had not quite played the game. 
 
 "Child," said the Great Lady speaking ex cathedra, 
 with a piece of bread in one hand and a piece of turbot 
 on a fork in the other, "when I consider that I chose
 
 REACTION 327 
 
 your husband's first governess, quite a refined person, 
 of the sound, rather old-fashioned evangelical school, 
 I feel that it was morally and wickedly wrong of you to 
 withhold from me of all people the identity of the dear 
 Princess." 
 
 "But, Mary," said the light of my existence, toying 
 demurely with her sherry, "I didn't know who she was 
 myself until nearly a week after the fire." 
 
 The Great Lady bolted her bread and laid down her 
 fork with an approximation to that which can only be 
 described as majesty. 
 
 "Would you have me believe," she demanded, "that 
 when you took her to your house on the night of the 
 fire you really and sincerely believed that she was merely 
 the wife of Nevil?" 
 
 "Yes, Mary," said the joy of my days, "I really and 
 sincerely believed that she was the circus I mean, that 
 is, that she was just Mrs. Fitz." 
 
 General incredulity, in the course of which George 
 Catesby inquired very politely of the Younger Son if he 
 had enjoyed his day. 
 
 "Never enjoyed a day so much," said the Younger 
 Son, with immense conviction, "since we turned up that 
 old customer without a brush in Dipwell Gorse five years 
 ago to-morrow come 11.15 g.m." 
 
 "11.20, my lad," chirruped the noble Master. "Your 
 memory is failin'." 
 
 "Irene," said the uncompromising voice from the end 
 of the table, "I cannot and will not allow myself to 
 believe that you were not in the secret before the fire."
 
 328 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Tell it to the marines, Irene," said Mrs. Josiah P. 
 Perkins. 
 
 "Wonder what she will ask us to believe next," said 
 Miss Laura Glendinning. 
 
 "What indeed !" said the Vicar's wife. 
 
 "It isn't human nature," affirmed Lady Frederick. 
 
 "Very well, then," said the star of my destiny, with 
 an ominous sparkle of a china blue eye, "you can ask 
 Odo." 
 
 "Odo!" I give up the attempt to reproduce the 
 cataclysm of scorn which overwhelmed the table. "Odo 
 is quite as bad as you are, if not worse. He knew from 
 the first. He knew when the Illyrian Ambassador came 
 in person to the Coach and Horses and fetched her in 
 his car; he knew when she chaffed dear Evelyn so de- 
 lightfully that night at the Savoy." 
 
 "What if he did?" said the undefeated Mrs. Arbuth- 
 not. "He didn't tell me. Did you now, Odo?" 
 
 With statesmanlike mien I assured the company that 
 Mrs. Fitz's identity was not disclosed to our household 
 despot until some days after her arrival at Dympsfield 
 House. 
 
 "I am obliged to believe you, Odo," said Mrs. 
 Catesby. "But mind I only do so on principle." 
 
 Somehow this cryptic statement seemed to minister 
 to the mirth of the table. It was increased when the 
 Younger Son, who evidently had been waiting his oppor- 
 tunity, came into the conversation. 
 
 "Odo Arbuthnot, M.P.," said he, "I expect when Dick 
 sees what you have done to his wall he'll sue you. Any- 
 how I should."
 
 REACTION 329 
 
 The approval which greeted this sally made it clear 
 that the incident had become historical. 
 
 "By royal command," said I ; "and what chance do 
 you suppose has a mere private member against the 
 despotic will of the father of his people?" 
 
 "A gross outrage. An act of vandalism. Postle- 
 waite says 
 
 "Postlewaite's an ass." 
 
 "Whatever Postlewaite is, it doesn't excuse you. He 
 says you were all talking the rankest Socialism, and he 
 was quite within his rights not to give you the book." 
 
 "I repeat, Frederick, that Postlewaite is an ass. If 
 the Postlewaites of the earth think for one moment 
 that the Victors of Rodova will turn the other cheek 
 to the retort discourteous, the sooner they learn other- 
 wise the better it will be for them and those whom they 
 serve." 
 
 "Hear, hear and cheers," said my gallant little 
 friend, Mrs. Josiah P. Perkins, in spite of the fact that 
 the Great Lady had fixed her with her invincible north 
 eye. 
 
 "Ferdinand Rex one doesn't mind so much," pro- 
 ceeded Frederick. "And the Princess is all right of 
 course, and von Schalk is a bit of a Bismarck they say ; 
 but when you come to foot the bill with Odo Arbuthnot, 
 M.P. well, as Postlewaite says, it is nothing less than 
 an act of vandalism. The M.P. fairly cooked my 
 goose, I must say." 
 
 The M.P. was very bad form, everybody agreed, 
 with the honourable and gallant exception of la belle 
 Americaine.
 
 330 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Might be a labour member! I don't know what 
 Dick'll say when he sees it." 
 
 "Two alternatives present themselves to my mind," 
 said I, impenitently. "Postlewaite can either clear off 
 the whole thing before he returns, else append a magic 
 '(7 in brackets after the offending symbols." 
 
 "You ain't entitled to a 'C' in brackets. You grow 
 a worse Radical every day of your life and everybody 
 is agreed that it is time you came out in your true 
 colours." 
 
 "Hear, hear," from the table. 
 
 "I've half a mind to oppose you myself at the next 
 election as a convinced Tariff Reformer, Anti-Socialist, 
 Fair Play for Everybody, and official representative 
 of a poor but deserving class." 
 
 "We shall all be glad to sign your nomination 
 paper," affirmed George Catesby. 
 
 "Well, Lord Frederick," said my intrepid Mrs. 
 Josiah, "I will just bet you a box of gloves anyway 
 that you don't get in." 
 
 "And I'll bet you another," said Mrs. Arbuthnot. 
 
 "He's not such a fool as to try," said the noble 
 Master. 
 
 "Frederick," said the Great Lady, "stick to your 
 muttons. You have plenty to do to raise breed and 
 quality. Why not try a cross between the Welsh and 
 the Southdown? At least I am convinced that in these 
 days the House of Commons offers no career for a 
 gentleman." 
 
 "I've a great mind to cut in and have a shot any- 
 way," said the scion of the ducal house, with a mild
 
 REACTION 331 
 
 confusion of metaphor. "I don't see why these Radical 
 
 fellers " 
 
 Whatever the speech was in its integrity, it was 
 destined never to be completed. For at this precise 
 moment the door was flung open in a dramatic manner, 
 and a haggard man wearing an overcoat and carrying 
 his hat in his hand, broke in upon Mrs. Catesby's din- 
 ner party.
 
 CHAPTER XXXI 
 
 NEWS FROM ILLYRIA 
 
 THE man was Fitz. 
 
 "A thousand apologies," he said. "So sorry to dis- 
 turb you all. But there's news from Illyria." 
 
 Such a very remarkable obtrusion enchained the at- 
 tention of us all. And this was not rendered less by 
 the self-possession of the speaker's manner. 
 
 "Ferdinand has been assassinated," Fitz's tone was 
 slow and contained; "the Monarchy has been over- 
 thrown, Sonia is a close prisoner in the castle at Blae- 
 nau, and her fate hangs in the balance." 
 
 "What is your authority?" said Coverdale. 
 
 "Reuter," said Fitz. "A telegram is printed in the 
 evening papers. I happened to buy one at the book- 
 stall as I left town." 
 
 He produced the Westminster Gazette from the 
 pocket of his overcoat and handed it to the Chief Con- 
 stable. 
 
 "You don't suppose," said Coverdale, frowning heav- 
 ily, "that they are capable of personal violence towards 
 the Princess?" 
 
 "At bottom they are only half civilised," said Fitz, 
 "and when their passions are aroused they are capable 
 of anything. You will see the telegram says the gov- 
 
 332
 
 NEWS FROM ILLYRIA 333 
 
 ernment is in the hands of a committee of the people. 
 And no wise man ever trusts the people and never will." 
 
 This feudal sentiment was uttered in a tone of the 
 oddest conviction. 
 
 "By jove!" said the scion of the ducal house, "here 
 is the chap we are looking for." 
 
 But the intrusion of Fitz was too deadly serious for 
 any side issue to be allowed to distract our attention. 
 
 "I apologise to you, Mrs. Catesby, for spoiling your 
 dinner party like this," he said, "but it is my firm con- 
 viction that if the Princess is to be saved there is not 
 a moment to lose." 
 
 "One is inclined to agree with you," said Coverdale, 
 slowly and thoughtfully. "Has it occurred to you that 
 anything can be done?" 
 
 Fitz's reply, given quietly enough, was characteristic 
 of the man. 
 
 "To-day is Monday," he said. "By midnight on 
 Thursday we shall have her out of Blaenau." 
 
 "Impossible, my dear fellow, impossible," said the 
 Chief Constable, "if this account is correct." 
 
 "Nothing is impossible," said the Man of Destiny. 
 "There is just time now to catch the ten o'clock to- 
 night from Middleham. First thing to-morrow morn- 
 ing we will get our papers if we can, and if we can't 
 we'll go without them. We shall be in Paris some time 
 in the afternoon ; and if all goes well by Wednesday 
 evening we shall be in Vienna. By five o'clock on 
 Thursday we ought to be at Orgov on the Milesian 
 frontier, and six hours' easy riding over the mountains 
 with a couple of baits will land us at Blaenau."
 
 334 MRS. FITZ 
 
 We who knew Fitz and had followed him in high 
 affairs knew better than to venture upon criticism of 
 this bald and unconvincing scheme. Those who did not 
 know him could only smile incredulously. 
 
 "Sounds easy," said Lord Frederick, "but assuming, 
 Fitzwaren, that you get to Blaenau like that, what can 
 it profit you if the Princess is in the Castle under lock 
 and key?" 
 
 "Stone walls do not a prison make nor iron bars a 
 cage," quoted the Man of Destiny. "Once we get to 
 Blaenau we shall have her out of the Castle, never fear 
 about that. But there is no time to discuss the matter 
 now. If we go at once and collect our gear so sorry, 
 Mrs. Catesby, but absolutely unavoidable we can be 
 in town by 12.15, arrange about our papers and keep 
 well in front of the clock." 
 
 The man's calm assumption that we should all un- 
 hesitatingly follow his lead and commit ourselves to 
 this rather mad and certainly most uncomfortable 
 enterprise was remarkable. . 
 
 "There is not a minute to lose," he said. "By the 
 way, Arbuthnot, I've told Peters to pack a kit bag for 
 you. And this time, old son, you had better see that 
 you don't forget your revolver." 
 
 Under the goad of the Chief Constable's uneasy eye 
 I was fain to gaze at the black silk handkerchief, which 
 still bore my wrist. 
 
 "I'm afraid I'm a lame duck anyway," I said. 
 
 "You will do to hold the horses at the foot of the 
 Castle rock. Climbing up the face of that cliff will be 
 out of the question as far as you are concerned. Now
 
 NEWS FROM ILLYRIA 335 
 
 then, you fellows," the Man of Destiny took out his 
 watch, "you have just two minutes to finish your port 
 and get your cigars alight and then it's boot and 
 saddle." 
 
 "Nevil," said the imperious voice of the Great Lady, 
 "I am really afraid you are mad." 
 
 The Man of Destiny did not deign to heed this 
 irrelevant suggestion. 
 
 The exigencies of historical truth render it necessary 
 to record the fact that Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane- 
 Anstruther was undoubtedly the first respondent to the 
 call. My relation by marriage drank his port wine and 
 rose in his place at Mrs. Catesby's board. There was 
 a fire in his eye and the suspicion of a hectic flush upon 
 his countenance which seemed to contrast strangely with 
 the habitual languor of his bearing. 
 
 "First thing we must do is to send a wire to old 
 Alec," he said; "although he is certain not to be in if 
 we send it. If we get to town by 12.15 I will trot 
 round to the Continental. The beggar is sure to be 
 there until they kick him out as there is a ball to-night 
 at Covent Garden." 
 
 This reasoning may have been lucid and it may have 
 been pregnant ; at least it recommended itself to the 
 comprehensive intellect of the Man of Destiny. 
 
 "Quite right, Vane-Anstruther. I shall hold you 
 responsible for O'Mulligan." 
 
 "Joseph," said the Great Lady upon a stentorian 
 note, "are you mad also?" 
 
 Hardly had this pertinent inquiry been advanced 
 when the noble Master was on his legs.
 
 336 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "So awfully sorry, Mrs. Catesby," he said with a 
 long-drawn sweetness of apology, "but it can't be 
 helped in the circumstances, can it? I leave hounds in 
 the care of George and Frederick. Keep Potts up to 
 his work, George, and see that he pays proper attention 
 to their feet. And, Frederick, I charge you to make 
 it your business to see that Madrigal has a ball every 
 Friday." 
 
 "Reginald," said his hostess with great energy, "in 
 the unavoidable absence of your widowed and unfor- 
 tunate mother, I absolutely forbid you to bear a part 
 in this hare-brained enterprise. I really don't know 
 what Nevil can be thinking of." 
 
 In Ascalon whisper it not, but this was the precise 
 moment in which I found the cynical eye of the Chief 
 Constable upon me for the second time. The eye was 
 also wary and a little pensive, but the great man rose 
 in his place with an air of profound rumination. He 
 slowly cracked a walnut and then turned to the butler, 
 with a coolness which to my mind had a suspicion of 
 the uncanny. 
 
 "Just tell my chap to have my car round at once," 
 he said; and then with great deference to his hostess, 
 "a thousand apologies, Mrs. Catesby, but you do see, 
 don't you, that it can't be helped ?" 
 
 Whether I rose to my feet by an act of private 
 volition or at the sub-conscious beck of another's com- 
 pelling power, there is no need to attempt to determine. 
 But somehow I found myself upon my legs and adding 
 my own imperfect apologies to the equally imperfect 
 ones of the Chief Constable.
 
 NEWS FROM ILLYRIA 337 
 
 "Odo Arbuthnot," said my hostess, "sit down at once. 
 A married man, a father of a family and a county mem- 
 ber! Sit down at once and get on with your fruit. 
 Colonel Coverdale ! I am surprised at you." 
 
 "Finished your port, Arbuthnot?" said Fitz calmly. 
 "Time's about up. But I've told your chap about the 
 car." 
 
 Consternation mingled now with the lively feminine 
 bewilderment, but Mrs. Arbuthnot, whom Fitz's news 
 had excited and distressed, issued no personal edict. If 
 the life of Sonia was really at stake it was right to take 
 a risk. Nevertheless it shewed a right feeling about 
 things to betray a little public perturbation at the 
 prospect of being made a widow. 
 
 "Jodey and Reggie and Colonel Coverdale must go," 
 said Mrs. Arbuthnot. "They haven't wives and fam- 
 ilies dependent upon them. But you, Odo, are different. 
 And then, too, your wrist. You would be of no use if 
 you went." 
 
 "I shall do to hold the horses at the foot of the 
 Castle rock," said I, saluting a white cheek. 
 
 Fitz was already withdrawing from the room with his 
 volunteers when Lord Frederick rose in his place at the 
 board. 
 
 "Look here, Fitzwaren," he said. "If you have a 
 vacancy in your irregulars I rather think I'll make 
 one." 
 
 "By all means," said Fitz. "The more the merrier." 
 
 Bewilderment and consternation mounted ever higher 
 around Mrs. Catesby's mahogany.
 
 338 MRS. FITZ 
 
 "Freddie ! Freddie !" There arose a tearful wail from 
 across the table. 
 
 "You ought to be bled for the simples, Frederick," 
 said his hostess. 
 
 However, even as the Great Lady spoke, honest 
 George, most conscientious of husbands, and notwith- 
 standing his rank in the Middleshire Yeomanry, the 
 most peace-loving of men, was understood to make an 
 offer of active service. 
 
 "Well done, George," said his friend the Vicar. "I 
 shouldn't mind coming as the chaplain to the force 
 myself." 
 
 "George," said an imperious voice from the table 
 head, "George!" 
 
 The Man of Destiny halted a moment on the 
 threshold of the banquet hall with the frank eye of 
 cynicism fixed midway between the Great Lady and the 
 warlike George. 
 
 "George ! Sit down !" 
 
 Finally George sat down with a covert glance at his 
 friend the Vicar. 
 
 By the time we had got into our overcoats and 
 mufflers and the means of travel had been provided for 
 us, a scene with some pretensions to pathos had been 
 enacted in the hall. 
 
 "Odo, you really ought not, but if dear Sonia really 
 is in danger !" 
 
 "We shall all be back a week to-night," the Man of 
 Destiny informed my somewhat tearful monitor with a 
 note of assurance in his voice. 
 
 Moving objurgations of "Freddie! Freddie!" were
 
 NEWS FROM ILLYRIA 339 
 
 mingled with the clarion note of Mrs. Catesby's indig- 
 nation. 
 
 "It is a mad scheme, and if you get your deserts, 
 you will all be shot by the Illyrians." 
 
 But Fitz and I were already seated side by side in 
 the car. We waved a farewell to the bewildered com- 
 pany upon the hall steps, and then the fact seemed 
 slowly to be borne in upon my numbed intelligence that 
 yet again I was irrevocably committed to this latest and 
 maddest call of my evil genius. There he sat by my 
 side, his cigar a small red disc of fire, and he self-pos- 
 sessed, insouciant, daemonic, almost gay. 
 
 The flaccid, rudderless creature of the past ten days 
 was gone as though he had never been. It was hard to 
 realise that this born leader of others, who courted war 
 like a mistress, the magic of whose initiative the coolest 
 and sanest could not resist, was the self -same broken 
 fragment of human wreckage who twenty-four hours 
 ago had not the motive power to perform the simplest 
 action. But there could be no question of the magic 
 he knew how to exert over the most diverse natures ; and 
 as we sat side by side in the semi-darkness of the car 
 while it flew along the muddy, winding and narrow 
 roads to Dympsfield House, I yielded almost with a 
 thrill of exultation to the director of my fate.
 
 WE had no difficulty in reaching Middleham railway 
 station, that familiar rendezvous, at the appointed time. 
 Even Lord Frederick who lived farther afield than any 
 of us, was able by putting a powerful car to an illegal 
 use, to arrive on the stroke of the hour. 
 
 It was to be remarked that the prevailing tone in 
 our coupe was one which almost amounted to gaiety. 
 Judged by the cold agnostic eye, the scheme was only 
 a little this side of madness. But it had the sanction 
 of a high motive. Further, we were brothers in arms 
 who had smelt powder together upon a more dubious 
 enterprise; we had faith in one another; and above all 
 we were sustained, one might even say translated, by 
 the epic quality of an incomparable leader. 
 
 Fitz smoked his cigar and cut in at a rubber of 
 bridge with an air of indulgent and serene content. 
 
 "It is lucky," he said, "that I know an old innkeeper 
 on the frontier who will be rather useful if we have to 
 go without passports. He is about a mile on the 
 Milesian side, and will be able to provide us with horses 
 and smuggle us across in the darkness. He will also 
 find for us a couple of guides over the mountains." 
 
 "You say we can get from the frontier to the Castle 
 340
 
 at Blaenau in six hours?" inquired the gruff voice of 
 the Chief Constable. 
 
 "Yes, unless there is a lot of snow in the passes." 
 
 "But if the country is in a state of revolution, aren't 
 we likely to be held up?" 
 
 "Perhaps ; perhaps not. We shall find a way if we 
 have to take an airship. Eh, Joe?" 
 
 The Man of Destiny gave my relation by marriage a 
 paternal punch in the ribs. 
 
 "Ra.-ther !" That hero was in the act of cutting an 
 ace and winning the deal. 
 
 "I shall arrange," said Fitz, "for a change of horses 
 at Postovik, which is about half-way. If all goes well 
 we shall be at the foot of the Castle rock a little before 
 midnight on Thursday. I am thinking, though, that 
 we may have to swim the Maravina." 
 
 "Umph!" growled the Chief Constable, declaring an 
 original spade, "a moderately cheerful prospect on a 
 January night in Illyria." 
 
 "It may not come to that, of course. But all the 
 bridges and ferries are sure to be guarded. And even 
 if they are, with a bit of luck we may be able to rush 
 them." 
 
 As our leader began to evolve his plan of campaign 
 it could not be said to forfeit any of its romance. But 
 I think it would be neither fair nor gracious to Mr. 
 Nevil Fitzwaren's corps of irregulars to say that this 
 spice of adventure made less its glamour. We could 
 all claim some little experience of war and that mimic 
 sphere of action "that provides the image of war with- 
 out its guilt, and only thirty per cent, of its dangers."
 
 342 MRS. FITZ 
 
 Some of us had taken cover upon the veldt and others 
 had crossed the Blakiston after a week's rain; and we 
 all felt as we sped towards the metropolis at the rate of 
 sixty miles an hour, and at the same time endeavoured 
 to restrain the cards from slipping on to the floor, that 
 whatever Fate, that capricious mistress, had in store for 
 us, our hazard was for as high a stake as any set of 
 gamesters need wish to play. 
 
 Punctual to the minute, we came into the London 
 terminus. As on the occasion of that former adven- 
 ture, we posted off to Long's quiet family hotel, with 
 the exception of Joseph Jocelyn De Vere Vane-An- 
 struther, who confided his kit-bag to the care of his man 
 Kelly, and adjured him to see that a decent room was 
 found for him, while he went "to rout out Alec at the 
 Continental before they fired the beggar out." 
 
 "Tell him we leave Charing Cross at 10.40 in the 
 morning," said Fitz. "That will give me time to see 
 what can be done in the way of papers, although as far 
 as Illyria is concerned, diplomatic relations are pretty 
 sure to have been suspended." 
 
 Driving again to Long's Hotel, I was regaled with 
 the remembrance of our former journey; of the inci- 
 dent of the cab which followed us through the Novem- 
 ber slush; of the weird sequel; of that long night of 
 alarums and excursions, which yet was no more than a 
 prelude to a chaotic vista of events. 
 
 I recalled the drive from Ward's with Coverdale; 
 the slow-drawn tragi-comedy of suspense; the waiting- 
 room at the Embassy, the plunge up the stairs, the 
 charming player of Schumann, the presentation to her
 
 MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 343 
 
 Royal Highness. I recalled the passages with the Am- 
 bassador and their terrible issue; the drive with the 
 Princess to the Savoy; the episode of the pink satin 
 at which I could now afford to laugh. Again I recalled 
 our bizarre visit to Bryanston Square; our reception 
 by my uncle Theodore, his "Fear nothing," and his 
 still more curious pre-vision of that which was to come 
 to pass. I recalled our dash for this same Great British 
 railway station and the merciful shattering of our hopes 
 midway. I recalled the Scotland Yard inspector with 
 the light moustache, the hand of the Princess guiding 
 me through the traffic, the cool-fingered doctor, the 
 bowl of crimson water at which I did not care to look. 
 Finally, in this panoramic jumble of wild occurrences, 
 the memory of which I should carry to the grave, I 
 recalled that noble, complex, misguided emblem of our 
 species, the Victor of Rodova, the clear-sighted, subtle 
 yet great-hearted hero of an epoch in the destiny of 
 nations ; the father of his people, whom his children had 
 slain even while the hand of death was already upon 
 him. 
 
 I pictured him lying riddled with bullets on the steps 
 of his palace at Blaenau, riddled with the bullets he had 
 so often despised. Even from the brief account in the 
 evening papers it was clear that the end of the Victor 
 of Rodova had been heroic. 
 
 The smouldering volcano had burst into flame at last. 
 A tax-gatherer had been slain in an outlying district. 
 At the signal, a whole province, at the beck of one half- 
 patriot, half-brigand, rose up, marched armed to the 
 Capital, and called upon the King at his palace to
 
 344 MRS. FITZ 
 
 grant a charter to his people. The King met them 
 alone, as was his custom, on the steps of his palace, and 
 having listened with kindness and patience to their 
 demands, made the reply "that he would take steps to 
 procure the charter for his people, if the peccant son 
 who had slain a faithful servant treacherously was ren- 
 dered to justice." 
 
 Whether the King deliberately misread the temper 
 of his subjects, or whether he overestimated the per- 
 sonal power it was his custom to exert, was hard to 
 determine, but in this reply which was so strangely 
 deficient in that high political wisdom, in which no man 
 of his age excelled him, lay his doom. The leader of 
 the armed mob, who himself had slain the tax-gatherer, 
 laughed in the King's face, and immediately riddled him 
 with bullets. And as the King fell, the burghers of 
 Blaenau poured in at the gates, the soldiers revolted 
 because their wages were overdue, possession was taken 
 of the Castle and the long-deferred republic was pro- 
 claimed. 
 
 "And where were the aristocracy and the supporters 
 of the monarchy while all this was happening?" I asked, 
 as we sat in the lounge at the hotel having a final drink 
 before turning in. 
 
 "Reading between the lines of the dispatch," said 
 Fitz, "I should be inclined to say that they had con- 
 spired to throw Ferdinand over at the last and to let in 
 the people. I can reconcile the facts on no other 
 hypothesis." 
 
 "Why should they?"
 
 "The aristocracy has always been jealous of his 
 power. He has walked too much alone." 
 
 "It is hard to believe that they would yield up their 
 country to mob law." 
 
 "They have their own safety to consider. A small 
 and exclusive class, not accustomed to move very 
 actively in public affairs, they have little control of 
 events. And the army having joined with the people, 
 their only hope is to sit on the fence and try to hold 
 what they have." 
 
 "You are convinced of the Princess' danger?" 
 
 "There is no question of that. Having decided to 
 make an end of their rulers, the French Revolution is 
 quite likely to be enacted over again. They are a semi- 
 barbarous people and few will deny that they have 
 suffered." 
 
 On the morrow Fitz was early abroad. The morning 
 papers brought confirmation of the news from Illyria. 
 The King was dead; the Crown Princess was a close 
 prisoner at Blaenau in the hands of the insurgents ; the 
 Chancellor and other ministers had fled the country ; a 
 number of regiments had massacred their officers ; and 
 it was expected that a Committee of the People would 
 take over the government. 
 
 At Charing Cross we found Alexander O'Mulligan 
 already waiting for us. He was in the pink of health 
 and his grin was extraordinarily expansive. Fitz ar- 
 rived with the necessary tickets for the whole party, 
 but had only been able to procure passports as far as 
 the frontier. But, as he explained, this need not trouble
 
 346 MRS. FITZ 
 
 us, as we should leave the train before we came there 
 and make our way over the mountains in the darkness. 
 
 As our train wound its way through suburbia we 
 began more clearly to realise the promise of a crowded 
 and glorious week. The motive was adequate ; and al- 
 though the Chief Constable and myself had a profound 
 sense of the rashness of the scheme, we shared the com- 
 mon faith in Fitz. 
 
 Our route was by way of Paris. It was more direct 
 to go from Southampton, but there was very little dif- 
 ference in the point of actual time. 
 
 When we reached Paris, soon after five that after- 
 noon, we learned that in spite of the representations of 
 the Powers, the fate of the Princess still hung in the 
 balance. We stayed only an hour and then took train 
 again. 
 
 All night we travelled and all through the next day ; 
 and then, as Fitz had predicted, shortly after five 
 o'clock in the evening of Thursday we had come to the 
 township of Orgov, a mile from the Illyrian frontier 
 on the borders of Milesia. Here we found a shrewd 
 old peasant who had acted as the friend of Fitz on a 
 former occasion, and with whom he had already com- 
 municated by telegraph. The old fellow shook his head 
 over the state of affairs in the neighbouring kingdom, 
 but provided us with a couple of trustworthy guides 
 through the mountains and seven tolerable horses, one 
 apiece for each member of our party. 
 
 Fitz affirmed his intention of getting to Blaenau in 
 six hours. The innkeeper, however, declared frankly 
 that this was impossible. The winter had been severe;
 
 MORE ALARUMS AND EXCURSIONS 347 
 
 heavy drifts of snow lay in the passes, and in its pres- 
 ent state the cotmtry itself was full of danger. Indeed, 
 our friend the innkeeper was fain to declare that unless 
 God was very kind to us, we should never get to Blaenau 
 at all. 
 
 However, we were a party of nine, stout fellows, well 
 armed and tolerably mounted. And when we started 
 from Orgov a little after six in the evening, I do not 
 think the sense of peril oppressed us much. Our mis- 
 sion was of the highest ; each of us had faith in himself 
 and in his comrades. We were a small but mobile force 
 in fairly hard condition ; and I think it may be claimed 
 for each member of it that he had a natural love of 
 adventure.
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII 
 IN THE BALANCE 
 
 THE air was shrewd as we set out from Orgov. We 
 took a narrow, winding bridle path, uncomfortably 
 steep in places, in order to avoid the frontier town of 
 Boruna, wherein trouble might lurk. The stars were 
 out already, with Mars straight before us wonderfully 
 large and red as we rode due east. There was an ex- 
 hilaration in the atmosphere that was like wine in the 
 veins ; and presently we caught the tail of an icy blast 
 that made us glad to wrap our cloaks around us. 
 
 An impartial view of such an enterprise rendered it 
 clear that the odds were greatly in favour of a total 
 failure. How could six men and a cripple hope to pene- 
 trate into the heart of a closely guarded fortress ? And 
 assuming that we got in, by what means did we expect 
 to make our way out again! In all conscience the 
 scheme was wild enough, but this was not the hour in 
 which to lay stress upon that fact. 
 
 There can be no doubt that the qualities of our 
 leader were a great aid to his corps. Undaunted 
 courage, invincible optimism were his in amplest meas- 
 ure; and this attitude of mind could not fail to react 
 upon his comrades in arms. Moreover, in the most 
 singular degree he appeared to combine with the 
 
 348
 
 IN THE BALANCE 349 
 
 audacity of genius, a head for detail and a shrewd prac- 
 tical wisdom, which very seldom embellish the characters 
 of those who depend primarily upon the faculty of 
 inspiration. 
 
 As mile by mile we traversed these snow-laden 
 Illyrian mountains, the possibility of anything less than 
 complete success found no place in his thoughts. 
 "Nothing is impossible," was his motto, and this he 
 realised with plenary conviction. His twin soul was 
 calling him to the castle at Blaenau, and not for an 
 instant did he doubt his ability to obey the summons. 
 
 It was our plan to avoid as far as possible all cen- 
 tres of population. Our guides being men of experi- 
 ence, familiar with all the bypaths and bridle-roads, 
 this we were able to do, and even to save time in the 
 process. But as the innkeeper had insisted, Fitz's 
 optimism had misled him when he expected to reach the 
 Illyrian capital in six hours. 
 
 When we took our first bait, at an inn above the 
 sinister waters of the Lake of Montardo, it was nearly 
 nine o'clock. Coffee and cakes were very acceptable ; 
 indeed I have seldom tasted anything so delicious. But 
 in spite of our diligence and a fair measure of luck, we 
 had come rather less than twenty miles of the journey. 
 Our horses were good for another twelve miles through 
 the formidable pass of Ryhgo, where in the middle of 
 winter the mountain streams are generally in spate. 
 
 We went on after a halt of a quarter of an hour. 
 As yet we had seen few signs of the revolution. But 
 at the inn above Montardo ugly rumours were rife. 
 The people and the army were said to have turned
 
 350 MRS. FITZ 
 
 against the aristocracy ; they were butchering them 
 by the score and the Crown Princess was declared to be 
 dead. 
 
 That our mission was being made in vain Fitz declined 
 to believe. The man's courage had never seemed so 
 remarkable as when confronted with this news. 
 
 "If she were already dead," he said simply, "I should 
 have had information. I shall not believe it until I 
 hold her corpse in my arms." 
 
 Through the pass of Ryhgo, overshadowed as it is 
 by the gaunt Illyrian mountains, the narrow path 
 wound along the very edge of a precipice. Below were 
 the waters of the Lake of Montardo, which as we rode 
 above it reflected a baleful grandeur to the stars. The 
 wind was very piercing now and drove sheer in our 
 faces ; not a little did it add to the dangers of our prog- 
 ress through the pass. The horses had only to make a 
 false step and their riders would be hurled a thousand 
 feet into those terrible black waters gleaming below. 
 
 Before we had overcome this most precarious stage 
 of our journey, the clouds were beaten up rapidly by 
 the wind, and to add to our peril and discomfort it 
 came on to snow. It was, therefore, a great relief when 
 at last we came to an inn at a hamlet with an unpro- 
 nounceable name wjhich marked the end of the pass. It 
 was then eleven o'clock and we had come little more 
 than half the way. 
 
 Here we found a friend awaiting us. He was an 
 Illyrian acquaintance of Fitz's, and he had arranged 
 the details of our mountain journey. A member of a 
 noble family, he was familiar with the court life at
 
 IN THE BALANCE 351 
 
 Blaenau, and had borne the part of a friend in the 
 previous episode which had culminated in the elopement 
 of the Crown Princess. 
 
 He was an agreeable fellow, quite cosmopolitan, and 
 had no difficulty in making himself understood in 
 French, in which tongue he enjoyed a greater felicity 
 than any of us. He answered to the name of John, 
 although his full title, which was very long and hard 
 to pronounce, I have forgotten. He, too, had heard the 
 common report that the Princess was dead, but chose 
 to express no opinion in regard to the truth of it. 
 
 When Fitz outlined his project, he expressed a mild 
 astonishment. 
 
 "But how," said he, "will you cross the Maravina?" 
 
 "You don't suppose," said Fitz, "that we have come 
 as far as this to be deterred by the crossing of the 
 Maravina?" 
 
 "All the bridges are closely guarded by the Repub- 
 licans. The ferries also." 
 
 "We can swim the Maravina, at a pinch." 
 
 "You English can do most things," said John, "but 
 don't attempt to swim the Maravina in the middle of 
 January is my advice." 
 
 John's view drew a growl of deep bass approval from 
 no less a person than the Chief Constable of Middle- 
 shire. 
 
 "We shall do what we can," said the Man of Destiny, 
 with excellent indifference. 
 
 "Yes, but we damn well needn't do what we can't," 
 said the Chief Constable sotto voce, yet meaning no 
 disrespect to his native tongue.
 
 352 MRS. FITZ 
 
 I must confess to an involuntary shudder, as, at the 
 instance of a too-active imagination, the waters of the 
 Maravina pierced a pair of leathers "by a local artist 
 of the name of Jobson." They seemed miserably damp 
 already. And if anything feels more miserable than 
 a pair of leathers when they are damp, I pray to be 
 spared the knowledge. 
 
 High as our mission was, the flesh was loth to quit 
 the warm stove at the hostelry of "The Hanging Cross" 
 for those terrible purlieus that wound through the heart 
 of the wild Illyrian mountains. But at least we could 
 congratulate ourselves that the pass of Ryhgo was at 
 an end, and that the black waters of Lake Montardo 
 no longer lay in wait for the hapless traveller a thou- 
 sand feet below. Also the snow had ceased, the wind 
 had fallen, Mars and his brethren were looking again 
 upon us, and there was a faint suspicion of a crescent 
 moon. 
 
 Our weary beasts had been exchanged for a fresh 
 relay at the hostelry of "The Hanging Cross." In 
 addition to a reinforcement in the shape of John, a 
 led horse with a side saddle accompanied us for the use 
 of the Princess. With fairer conditions and a path less 
 perilous to traverse, we began to improve considerably 
 upon our previous rate of progression. Then the road 
 began again to grow difficult, but happily the sky kept 
 clear. 
 
 During the later stages of the journey we passed 
 through several hamlets and small towns. To judge 
 by the lights in the windows of the houses and the 
 demeanour of little groups of people in the streets, a
 
 IN THE BALANCE 353 
 
 general spirit of uneasiness was abroad. Men clad in 
 the picturesque skin caps, which are so typical of the 
 country, were to be seen carrying formidable-looking 
 guns ; and although such a cavalcade excited their 
 curiosity they allowed it to pass. 
 
 We had no adventures worthy of the name. In one 
 of the mountain valleys a deep crevasse was concealed 
 by a drift of snow, and we owed it to the vigilance of 
 our guides that we were not its victims. The wind was 
 still very piercing, but acting upon Fitz's advice before 
 we started, we had all taken the precaution to be well 
 clad. 
 
 Our progress was really better than we realised. A 
 sudden turn in the road revealed a very broad and rapid 
 torrent. It was the Maravina; and there upon the 
 farther bank was the bluff upstanding rock crowned 
 with the majestic castle of Blaenau. Nestling close 
 about it was a dark huddle of houses and gaunt church 
 spires of the capital city of Illyria. 
 
 "There you are," cried John, with a wave of the 
 hand. "Now, my friends, are you tempted to swim 
 across?" 
 
 "I daresay we shall find a bridge," said Fitz non- 
 chalantly enough. 
 
 "They are all bound to be guarded by the enemy." 
 
 "Maybe," said the Man of Destiny imperturbably. 
 
 Away to the right, at the distance of a mile, was 
 one of the smaller bridges into the city. It was a 
 rickety, wooden structure, guarded by a gate with a 
 turret, which had a quaintly mediaeval aspect. In front 
 of the gate a bright coke fire was burning in a bucket,
 
 354 MRS. FITZ 
 
 and sprawling around it in attitudes which suggested 
 varying phases of somnolence were a number of men 
 in uniform. 
 
 A shaggy, fierce-looking, finely-grown fellow rose to 
 his feet and challenged us. Fitz replied promptly in 
 his suavest and best Illyrian. Not a word of the con- 
 versation that ensued was intelligible to me, but it was 
 punctuated by the approving laughter of John and 
 the guides, and was conducted on both sides with the 
 highest good-humour. 
 
 Its conclusion at any rate was in keeping with this 
 surmise. Fitz was seen to slip a piece of gold into 
 a furtive palm; the password was whispered to him; 
 and the gate was opened just far enough for each of us 
 to pass through one at a time. 
 
 "If there is a more corrupt rogue than an Illyrian 
 corporal of infantry," said John, "on the face of this 
 fair earth, I am glad to say I have met him not." 
 
 "Evil practices breed an evil state," said the sen- 
 tentious Fitz. "If chaps have to whistle for their wages 
 what can you expect?" 
 
 "Let us hope the custodians of the Castle will prove 
 as susceptible," I observed piously. 
 
 "Ah, there you have another sort of bird!" said 
 Fitz. 
 
 There was a second gate on the city side of the 
 bridge. This also was guarded by the soldiery, but 
 the password given boldly got us through without a 
 question. There were tall spikes set in a row on the top 
 of the heavy and unwieldy gate. They were adorned 
 with a row of human heads.
 
 IN THE BALANCE 355 
 
 To me, I confess, these grisly mementoes brought a 
 shudder. 
 
 "They appear to do things pleasantly at Blaenau," 
 said Frederick. 
 
 "They can go one better than that, my son," said 
 Fitz, "if they get the chance. I should advise each 
 of you, in the case of emergency, to leave just one 
 cartridge in his revolver." 
 
 To a married man, a father of a family, and a 
 county member, with his left arm in a black silk hand- 
 kerchief, who did not feel particularly secure in the 
 saddle as he rode knee to knee across the bridge with 
 his misguided friend the Chief Constable of Middleshire, 
 the icy wind which saluted him from the mighty torrent 
 swirling beneath, blew distinctly "thin." Somewhat bit- 
 terly he began to deplore that decree of fate which had 
 bereft him of the use of a hand. 
 
 Through narrow, close-built streets, whose odours 
 were decidedly unpleasant, we passed unmolested until 
 we came into the shadow of the castle rock. In the 
 faint light of the stars it towered a sheer and beetling 
 pile. 
 
 Dismounting we tied the horses to a fence. Fitz 
 took a dark lantern from his saddle; and among a 
 miscellaneous collection of articles with which he had 
 the forethought to provide himself, was a coil of rope. 
 This it seemed was capable of adjustment into the form 
 of a ladder ; and our leader affirmed his intention of 
 being the first man up the castle wall. He proposed 
 to affix this contrivance to the coping at the top in
 
 356 MRS. FITZ 
 
 order that the others might climb up as easily and as 
 expeditiously as possible. 
 
 There was nothing for me save to resign myself to 
 stay with the two guides in charge of the horses. It 
 would have been a physical impossibility for a man 
 bereft of the use of an arm to climb that sheer precipice. 
 
 Fitz's parting words of advice to me were charac- 
 teristic. 
 
 "If," said he, "a sentry should come along and want 
 to know your business I don't suppose he will, because 
 they don't appear to have mounted a picket knock out 
 his brains at once, and make one of the guides put on 
 his uniform and shoulder his gun and march up and 
 down. So long, old son." 
 
 The Man of Destiny was gone, perhaps for ever. As 
 each of my comrades in arms climbed over the low 
 fence in his wake I wished him good luck. It seemed 
 hardly a fighting chance that we should ever look on 
 one another again. 
 
 They had left their cloaks behind, and these together 
 with my own, were thrown over the horses which had 
 carried us so well. Tobacco is a great solace in sea- 
 sons of tension, but the long-drawn suspense to which 
 I had to submit soon became intolerable. 
 
 To a lover of the aurea mediocritas, a twentieth cen- 
 tury British paterfamilias confirmed in the comfortable 
 security of a civil life, such a predicament was absurd. 
 It was painful indeed to march hour after hour up and 
 down the broken ground at the foot of the castle rock. 
 A pipe was in my teeth, otherwise I was signally ex- 
 posed to the rigours of a long January night in Elyria.
 
 IN THE BALANCE 357 
 
 A bloody end was my perpetual contemplation. And 
 I hardly dared to think what lay in store for my com- 
 rades, the faint hope of whose return it was my bounden 
 duty to await. 
 
 There were moments in this season of poignant 
 misery when I felt myself to be growing absolutely 
 desperate. Why be ashamed to make the confession? 
 The sensation of impotence was truly terrible. As the 
 time passed and not a sound was to be heard, God 
 alone knew what was being transacted in that frowning 
 eyrie under the cover of the night. 
 
 Like most of those who have the unlucky leaven of 
 imagination in their clay, my instinctive optimism is 
 often on its trial. While I marched up and down in 
 the darkness, trying vainly to keep warm, waiting for 
 that tardy dawn in which death lurked for us all, I 
 would have laid long odds that the doom of the Princess 
 was sealed already and that my comrades in arms would 
 share it. 
 
 A man should strive in some sort to figure as a hero 
 when he comes to the purple patches in his own history. 
 But if a profuse fear of the immediate future in com- 
 bination with a lively horror of the present are com- 
 patible with that decree, so be it. Throughout those 
 hours of inaction I suffered the torments of the damned. 
 
 Again and again I strained nervously to catch a foot- 
 fall, and each time I did so Fitz's sinister injunction 
 was in my ears. I recognised its wisdom, but what a 
 counsel for a respectable law-abiding Englishman! 
 Conceive the husband of Mrs. Arbuthnot, the father of 
 Miss Lucinda, the sensitive product of a settled state of
 
 358 MRS. FITZ 
 
 society, lying in wait to knock out the brains of a fellow 
 creature on hardly any pretext at all! 
 
 Prudence is not without a tenderness for those who 
 court her ; at least a liberal supply of tobacco was in 
 my pouch. In a state of sheer desperation I smoked 
 away the intolerable hours, and even had tobacco to 
 share with the guides who placidly awaited the dawn 
 in the lee of the horses. 
 
 These were rugged, silent, contained men. I had 
 not a word of their language whatever it was, and I 
 think it was a kind of Milesian argot. But there was 
 an air of torpid responsibility about them. They were 
 honest peasants, calm, unimaginative, faithful. 
 
 The hour of five was told from half a dozen steeples 
 of the capital. In less than three short hours the fate 
 of us all would be sealed. My mind went back to Mid- 
 dleshire and I could have wept for vexation. Every- 
 thing was so happy and comfortable there. If Mrs. 
 Arbuthnot did not see eye to eye with me in all things, 
 an occasional discreet diversity of opinion merely served 
 as a sauce to our life together. 
 
 Yes, life and all that pertained to it was very dear 
 to me. It is proper, of course, to maintain a becoming 
 reticence about that indissoluble core of egoism that 
 lies at the heart of us all. But during these unspeak- 
 able hours I could not dissemble it. Why had it pleased 
 fate to project this ill-starred creature, one altogether 
 outside the circle of my interests, one alien in birth, in 
 race, in fortune, into the quiet backwater of my years? 
 Was there not a wantonness in shattering such a com-
 
 IN THE BALANCE 359 
 
 fortable hedonism in this cruel, meaningless, irrespon- 
 sible way? 
 
 What man can be a hero to his autobiographer? 
 By all the rules of the game I ought to have been 
 bathed in a kind of moral limelight as I walked my 
 miserable beat throughout that cursed Illyrian night. 
 It should be the easiest thing in the world to present 
 a picture of stoical disdain for Dame Fortune and her 
 fantasies. 
 
 But the blunt truth is before me, ignoble as it is. 
 Life meant too much. The least of my thoughts should 
 have been dedicated to that high and noble mission 
 which had lured me from my happy home in an English 
 county. I should have had my mind wholly concen- 
 trated on the fate of the royal lady and on that of 
 those stout fellows who had come so far and who had 
 endured so much that they might serve her. 
 
 Well, I will not deny that in a measure my thoughts 
 were for them. But I did not dare to speculate on what 
 had happened to them ; their fate was too big with 
 tragic possibilities. Yet ever uppermost within me was 
 a sore vexation. I did not want in the least to die, and 
 I was determined not to do so. Unhappily Fitz had 
 not given me the password which in the last resort 
 might take me across the bridge ; I could not communi- 
 cate with the guides; I was a stranger in a strange 
 land. 
 
 Six o'clock was told from the steeples of the city, 
 but there was not a sound from the castle rock. 
 Despair gripped me by the heart. The Princess was 
 dead and my friends had been unable to make their
 
 360 MRS. FITZ 
 
 way out of the fortress they had had the incredible 
 foolhardiness to enter. But until daylight came I must 
 wait at my post ; yea, if I could contrive it, longer than 
 that it behooved me to remain. 
 
 Already the sleeping city was beginning to stir un- 
 easily. Distant sounds proceeded from it; within ten 
 paces of our horses a farmer's wagon had passed along 
 the road. Figures began to emerge from the darkness 
 and to re-enter it. Doubtless they were workmen going 
 to their toil. The icy blasts from the river congealed 
 my blood. Half -past six tolled from the steeples ; house- 
 maids in pink print dresses were lighting the fires at 
 Dympsfield House. 
 
 I began to scourge my brain for a plan of escape in 
 broad daylight from this accursed place, in case Fitz 
 did not return. But even my mind was numbed, and it 
 was under the dominion of two clear facts : I did not 
 know a word of the Illyrian tongue and I knew nothing 
 of the habits and the customs of the country. 
 
 The row of heads upon the city gate occupied a 
 chamber to themselves in the halls of my imagination. 
 In whatever direction I turned my thoughts, there was 
 that grisly frieze before my eyes. Presently I made 
 the discovery that I. had bitten the stem of my pipe 
 clean through. 
 
 It was now seven o'clock and I had yielded up all 
 hope of Fitz. So tragedy after all was to be the end 
 of these wild oscillations which had begun with broad 
 farce. The unhappy "circus rider from Vienna" had 
 been done to death by the people for whom she had 
 given all. Not only had they rejected her sacrifice but
 
 IN THE BALANCE 361 
 
 they had requited it with brutal treachery. And the 
 noble man who had loved her, and those brave fellows 
 who had dared everything to serve her, regardless of 
 lives they valued as highly as I did my own, had perished 
 in her cause. 
 
 Rage and horror began to rise up within me. God 
 in heaven, was this the end of our adventure? It was a 
 quarter past seven ; the whole city was astir. 
 
 The dawn was coming. There were a few faint 
 streaks of grey already above the castle rock. Numbed 
 and helpless I strained my eyes upwards to that sinister 
 pile. Cold in body, faint in spirit, I knew not what to 
 do, nor which way to turn. And then, before I could 
 realise what had come to pass, there was a surge of 
 dark and stealthy figures, there was a hand on my 
 shoulder and a low voice was in my ears : 
 
 "The horses! The horses!"
 
 CHAPTER XXXIV 
 
 THE CREATURES OF PERRAULT 
 
 HALF paralysed as were the physical senses, there 
 was a magic in the words. Involuntarily, scarcely 
 knowing what I did, I helped to unloose the horses. I 
 saw the others climb into their saddles ; with a little 
 friendly help I got into mine. 
 
 In the growing light of the dawn, we started at a 
 gentle pace towards the old and quaint and many- 
 gabled city. Yet it was still too dark to see who pre- 
 cisely was of our company. We came to the bridge, 
 and halted while Fitz gave the password at the gate. 
 Suspicious eyes were cast upon him, but they let us 
 through. 
 
 At the farther gate Fitz gave the password again. 
 There was a little delay in the course of which Fitz 
 spoke in a jovial manner with the corporal of infantry. 
 Finally another gold piece changed owners, and then 
 we were allowed to pass on to the open country. 
 
 Without having to fire a shot, we had got clear of 
 the city. As yet I knew nothing of what had happened 
 during the hours of my suspense, but I was able to 
 make out in the dim light that two of the other sex had 
 augmented our company. One riding by the side of 
 
 362
 
 THE CREATURES OF PERRAULT 363 
 
 Fitz had a familiar outline; the other, an unknown 
 lady, was accommodated somewhat insecurely in front 
 of the saddle of Joseph Jocelyn De Vere. 
 
 As we turned towards the mountain road there came 
 the booming of a gun across the turbulent waters of the 
 Maravina. 
 
 "They are awake at last," said a gruff voice at my 
 elbow. The Chief Constable seemed very weary and 
 very grim. 
 
 Hard and straight we rode through the compara- 
 tively easy country to the inn at the head of the Pass 
 of Ryhgo. We had to be content with a change of 
 horses here; there was not time to allow of anything 
 else beyond a cup of spiced wine. 
 
 In broad daylight the Pass of Ryhgo was shorn of 
 many of its terrors. But as we rode above the lake 
 the path was so narrow and its turns so sharp that 
 care was still necessary. Happily the wind was now 
 dead. 
 
 Even now I was hardly in a state to realise what had 
 occurred. The strain upon my mind was still acute; 
 my faculties seemed to have got out of control. 
 
 "We had wonderful luck." The voice of the Chief 
 Constable sounded remote and meaningless. "It was 
 a devil of a climb up that rock, and I'll lay odds that 
 we should never have got to the top at all, if Fitz hadn't 
 remembered a secret stairway that led right into the 
 heart of the place. Either the burghers of Blaenau 
 had forgotten all about it or they didn't know of its 
 existence. But Fitz remembered it all right as soon as 
 he happened to see the hole in the rock. When we
 
 364 MRS. FITZ 
 
 got in, it was as black as the tomb, except for Fitz's 
 lantern. 
 
 "It was a poisonous journey up an interminable flight 
 of winding stone steps. It took us quite an hour to 
 come to the end. And then we found ourselves con- 
 fronted by a door of solid oak, which was three parts 
 rotten. It took us another hour to cut through that, 
 and Fitz's lantern went out and we had to keep striking 
 matches. I shall never forget that hour in the dark 
 until my dying day. And when we got through that 
 infernal door at last, where do you suppose we found 
 ourselves ?" 
 
 "I cannot say," I said dreamily, with a vague eye 
 upon the black waters of the lake below. 
 
 "Behind the tapestry of the King's bedroom. A mar- 
 vellous piece of luck! It is a strange providence that 
 watches over some things. And there we waited in the 
 darkness, with our hands on our weapons, while Fitz 
 made his way to the Princess and he brought her and 
 her woman to us, and we got clear away without dis- 
 turbing a soul." 
 
 "A wonderful and an incredible story!" 
 
 I began to have a fear that I might pitch from my 
 horse. But we got through the fell Pass of Ryhgo at 
 last, and by three o'clock that afternoon were in the 
 presence of food, and a shelter and security in the 
 hostelry a mile beyond the frontier. Thereupon a mute 
 prayer passed up to heaven from the still shuddering 
 soul of a married man, a father of a family and a 
 county member. 
 
 The unknown lady whom Jodey had borne so gal-
 
 THE CREATURES OF PERRAULT 365 
 
 lantly upon his saddle through the perilous mountain 
 passes was none other than the Countess Etta von 
 Zweidelheim, that lover of Schubert, that charming 
 interpreter of Schumann who had made herself re- 
 sponsible for the statement that our memorable evening 
 at the Embassy was "petter than Offenbach." 
 
 Even when she was lifted cold, hungry and desper- 
 ately fatigued from the saddle of her cavalier, she was 
 inclined to laugh ; and we were able to raise among us 
 a sort of hollow echo of her mirth when we observed 
 the solemnity with which my relation by marriage 
 escorted her to the stove and chafed her bloodless hands 
 to restore the circulation. 
 
 The somewhat formal, perhaps slightly embarrassed 
 nature of our laughter did not fail, even in these cir- 
 cumstances, of its customary appeal to her Royal High- 
 ness. Her own, however, unloosed a thousand memories 
 which I shall carry to the grave, and perhaps beyond. 
 
 "Aha, les Anglais!" There was a maternal indul- 
 gence in the gaunt eyes. "Tres bons enfants!" Her 
 voice was low, canorous, quaintly caressing. "Tres 
 bons enfants!" 
 
 Suddenly she turned and gave both her hands to me. 
 Lightly my lips touched the frozen fingers. For an 
 instant my eyes were upon the strange pallor of her 
 face; and then they met, in a kind of challenge, the 
 sunken brilliancy which gave it life. 
 
 "The creatures of Perrault, ma'am," I said, rather 
 hysterically. 
 
 THE END
 
 A 000127139 4