The World Masters Read online

  CHAPTER VIII

  By the time the prince had ceased speaking there was not the slightestdoubt in Lord Orrel's mind that, in some most mysterious manner, hewas connected with the discovery which Hardress had made when he tookthe mutilated body out of the waters of the Channel. Perhaps even theunknown dead might have been someone near and dear to him. It seemedto him utterly impossible either to doubt the prince's word or tobelieve that two such discoveries could have been made by two men atthe same time, or even that there could exist at the same time onearth two men whose genius, once put into practice, could make themrival masters of the world.

  And supposing that he knew part of the story which the prince wasgoing to tell him--the sequel, and, from a practical point of view,the all-important portion--ought he to tell him what he knew too? Hewas under no actual pledge of secrecy to his associates in the greatTrust, but still he felt that he was under an honourable obligation tokeep the story of the discovery to himself. On the other hand, grantedthat the prince knew the first half, would it be right--would it behonourable, according to his own exact code of honour, to keep thesequel from him? Perhaps the prince even had a definite personalinterest in the scheme; and, in that case, to keep silence would be torob him of his prior rights. What was he to do?

  He had been a Minister of the Crown for a short term of office, and bythe time they reached his sitting-room, and he had locked the door,after the wine had been placed on the table, diplomacy had come to hisaid, and he had made up his mind. When he had filled the glasses hetook out his cigar-case, selected the best it contained, and said:

  "Prince, I'm going to ask you to allow me to take a very greatliberty."

  "My dear Lord Orrel, there is nothing that you could do that I shouldconsider a liberty. Thank you, I will; I know that your cigars arealways most excellent, and now we will make ourselves comfortable, andyou shall take your liberty."

  He took the proffered cigar as he spoke, snipped the end, and lit it.Lord Orrel did the same, and when they had saluted each other overtheir wine, in the old-fashioned, courtly style, he began:

  "My dear prince, the liberty that I am going to ask your permission totake is a very great one, because it is a liberty of anticipation; andfew men, even the most chivalrous, care to be anticipated, especiallywhen they have an interesting story to tell. In other words, I, too,have a very strange story to tell you. In fact, the strangest thatever came within my experience. And there are reasons, which I willexplain to you afterwards, why I am asking the favour of yourpermission to tell it before yours."

  The prince looked puzzled, and his dark brows approached each otherfor just the fraction of a second. He took a sip at his wine, leantback in his chair, and blew a long whiff of smoke up towards thegaudily-painted ceiling. Then he said, with a barely perceptible shrugof his shoulders:

  "My dear Lord Orrel, you are not asking me any favour. On thecontrary, you are merely requesting that you shall entertain me beforeI try to do the same by you. Moreover, as it is quite impossible thatthere can be any connection between our stories, there can be noquestion of anticipation; so, pray, proceed. I am all attention."

  "As I said," began Lord Orrel, settling himself in his chair, andtaking a long pull at his cigar, "the story is a very strange one, andit is also one which could not well be told from the housetops,because it involves--well, what may be something almost as wonderfulas what you hinted at in the garden just now."

  "Ah," interrupted the prince, with a visible start and a suddenlifting of the eyebrows, "then, in truth, it must be strange indeed;and so I am more than ever anxious to hear it; and if, as I divine,you wish me to treat it in confidence, you, of course, have my word,as a gentleman of France, that no detail of it shall ever pass mylips."

  His host felt not a little relieved at being released from thenecessity of binding him to secrecy, as, for the sake of hiscolleagues, he would have felt obliged to do; so he said:

  "That, my dear prince, it would be quite impossible to imagine; andnow, as it is getting a little late, I will get to my story."

  He began with the finding of the mutilated body by the _Nadine_, andthe discovery of the tin box containing the momentous papers, and hadjust given a sketch of their contents and the use that was about to bemade of the dead man's discovery when the prince, whose face had beengrowing greyer and greyer during the recital, at length lost his holdupon the stern control under which he had just placed himself. Hesprang to his feet, flung his arms apart, and cried, in a high-pitched,half-choked voice:

  "Mon Dieu! mon Dieu! It is the same!--what miracle has happened? Mylord, you have been telling me the end of the story of which I wasgoing to tell you the beginning. And so France, poor France, throughthe stupidity of the ministerial puppets that the mob has placed inthe seats of their ancient rulers, has refused the sceptre of theworld; and I--I, the heir of her ancient royal house, have lost notonly the throne of my ancestors, but the power to make her themistress of the nations. Truly, the mills of God grind slowly, butthey grind exceeding small. Her kings misruled her, and she took otherrulers, who have cheated and swindled her, and humbled her beforethose who once did her bidding; and now, when the hand of Fate holdsout the means of regaining all that she has lost, and more, infinitelymore, she puts it aside with the sneering laugh of contemptuousignorance. Truly it is a judgment that judges even unto the third andfourth generation. Ah, yes; and on me, too!--I, who am innocent! MonDieu, mon Dieu, it is cruel!"

  As the last words came from his trembling lips his hands came togetheron his forehead, and he dropped back into his chair.

  For a moment of speechless astonishment Lord Orrel stared across theroom at him. Then, dropping his cigar on the tray, he got up and wentand laid his hand on the prince's shoulder.

  "My dear prince, my dear friend," he said, in a voice moved byemotion, "I am most deeply distressed that my story should haveaffected you so painfully. Believe me, I had no intention, no thoughteven----"

  The prince dropped his hands from his head, and stood and faced him,his face white and set and his eyes burning; but with a perfectlysteady voice, he said:

  "My lord, I thank you. So much emotion, though perhaps it was natural,ought not to have been shown. I should not have permitted it tomyself, save in solitude. It was impossible that I should know thatyour lordship's story was the same as mine, and so, naturally, theshock was greater. And now, may I ask your lordship one question?"

  "I will answer it, prince, before you ask it," interrupted Lord Orrel."But first, let me beg of you to drink your wine; really, you do notlook well."

  The prince took the glass from him and drained it in silence, his handshaking ever so little as he held it to his lips, and the other wenton:

  "Knowing what I did, I felt certain that two such miracles could nothave happened at the same time; moreover, some inspiration told methat the discovery you spoke of in the garden was the same that my sonmade under such terrible circumstances in the Channel. Now, sit down,pray, do, and let us talk this matter over as men of the world."

  "Men of the world!" echoed the prince, sadly, as he sat down again;"nay, of two worlds. I of the old, you and your son and your greatbusiness syndicate of the new; I of the past, you of the present andthe future; I who would have revived the glories of an ancient race,the despotism, if you will, of a bygone dynasty, you who would found anew one--despotism a thousand times harder, a dynasty of money, not ofblood, the most soulless and brutal of all dynasties. Ah, well, it isfate, and who shall question that? No; if you will pardon me, my dearOrrel, we will not talk further upon this subject, to-night, at anyrate. I confess that what you have told me has affected me deeply. Ifyou will permit me, I will go to bed. The Russians, you know, have asaying, 'Take thy thoughts to bed with thee, for the morning is wiserthan the evening.' To-morrow, perhaps, I shall be able to conversewith you on this momentous matter more calmly than I could doto-night."

  "By all means, my dear prince," was the reply; "and, no doubt, such acourse would be better
for me too, for I admit that this extraordinarycoincidence has upset me not a little as well. And so, good-night, andsound sleep."

  "Ah, yes," replied the prince, as they shook hands at the door; "soundsleep. I hope so. Good-night, my lord, and pleasant dreams of theworld-empire."

  He turned away to his bedroom, which was the next but two to hisdaughter's. The intervening rooms were occupied by his valet and hermaid. The valet's door was ajar, and there was a light in the room. Hestopped, and said:

  "I shall not want anything to-night, Felix, so you may go to bed. If Irequire you in the night I will knock on the wall, as usual."

  "Bien, monseigneur," replied the valet, opening the door and bowing."J'ai l'honneur de vous sous haiter le bon soir, monseigneur."

  "Bon soir," replied the prince, as he passed on to his room. "Lechocolat a huit heures."

  But Xavier de Conde, Prince of Bourbon, would never drink anothercup of chocolate. As soon as his door closed behind him, asternly-repressed flood of passion broke out, and he spent half theremainder of the night walking, in his stockinged feet, up and downhis big bedchamber, with clenched teeth and tight-gripped hands, hisbrain seething with a thousand thoughts of passion, and his white,twitching lips shaping unspoken words of rage, bitterness, anddespair. It was a cruel irony that Fate had wrought on him and hisancient house. The possible sceptre of the world had been offered tohis hereditary enemies, the Republicans of France, and, if Fargeau hadheld to his compact, the compact for which he had given his daughterto his son, he would have been master of France; and Fargeau wouldhave kept it, for he was a loyal Frenchman; and his son would havemarried a future Queen of France! And now not only had France refusedthe sceptre and snatched the crown from him, but the sceptre hadpassed by some bitter caprice of Fate into the hands of France'shereditary enemies. What could he say or do? Nothing. It wasmaddening--worse than maddening. He had pledged his honour, and couldtell no one--but even if he could, what then? The secret wasout--worse--it was in the hands of men who could make the ideal areality. They could not even give him back the power if they would,for the knowledge was theirs already, and they could act on it whilehe could not.

  The more he thought the faster the fever that was burning in his bloodincreased. His lips and tongue grew parched. His steps grew irregularand faltering. The veins in his head were beating on his brain likesledge-hammers. The lights began to waver before his eyes. He feltinstinctively that madness--that long-inherited curse of his race--wascoming. What if he should really go mad and babble not only of thisgreat secret, but also of all the plots and intrigues of which he hadbeen the centre! How many devoted friends and adherents would beconsigned to prison and exile--perhaps even to the scaffold! The verythought chilled him back into sanity for the time being. He rappedsharply at the wall, and presently Felix appeared, half-dressed, anddoing his best to stifle a yawn.

  "Felix," said the prince, who was now sitting in his arm-chair withhis head between his hands, "bid Marie arouse mam'selle immediately,and request her to dress and come to me. I am unwell--another of myattacks, I fear--and she only knows what to do for me. Quick--I needher at once."

  Felix vanished, and within ten minutes the marquise was in herfather's room; but by this time the blood was beating on his brainagain, and the fierce light of insanity was beginning to dawn in hiseyes.

  With the valet's help she partly undressed him and got him to bed.Then she locked the door and braced herself for what she instinctivelyknew must be a terrible ordeal.

  She saw at a glance that some terrible shock had thrown his brain offits balance. She had plotted with him and for him, and she knew why itwas her duty to lock the door. But what was this? Whence had come thisblow which had struck him down so swiftly? She soon learnt, as thedisjointed words and fragmentary sentences were shaped in the strugglebetween sanity and delirium for the command of his brain. Hour afterhour it went on, a piteous jumble of the memories of a long, busylife; but in the end, out of the mental tangle she was able to unravelone clear thread of thought. Emil Fargeau had given his secret to thesea, and the sea had given it into the hands of the English, theancient enemies of her country and her race; and it was the son ofthis Lord Orrel, the brother of the haughty English beauty sleepinghere, under the same roof, who had re-discovered it, and they wereeven worse than English, they were half-American; and England andAmerica would between them share that empire of the world, thatmastery of the human race, which should have been her father's andhers. She had even permitted her troth to be sold to a simple officerin the German army, a spy in the enemy's camp, in order to purchasethis new sovereignty for her house.

  The prince was rapidly sinking; she could see that, and yet she washelpless to save him, for she had promised that no one, not even adoctor, should be admitted into the room. She gave him a dose of anopiate which he always carried with him, and about dawn he wassleeping, but every now and then talking in his sleep more coherently.At sunrise the effect of the drug wore off, and delirium resumed itssway for a few moments. His eyes opened, and with a sudden jerk he satup in bed, his eyes glaring at the opposite wall, and his fingersclutching and tearing at the bedclothes. His lips worked convulsivelyfor a while, then, with a hoarse, croaking scream he died.

  "France! O ma belle France, maitresse du monde--et moi ton roi,ton--ah----!"

  His voice dropped suddenly in a low, soft sigh, his eyelids fell, andhis arms shrank to his sides, and he rolled back into his daughter'sarms. The fresh rush of blood to his head had broken a vessel on thebrain.

  Adelaide knew instinctively that the dead weight in her arms was notthat of a living man. She laid him back on the pillows, called upFelix and sent him for the resident physician. When he had made hisexamination, he said, in his guttural French:

  "Mam'selle la Marquise, there is no hope. The prince is dead. If I hadbeen called earlier I might have done something. I will make anexamination afterwards and certify the cause of death, according tolaw. Accept my most respectful condolences."

  That evening Shafto Hardress arrived from Paris at the HotelWilhelmshof.