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  "Your highness is riding out again?" quavers he.

  "Yes," I snapped. "Beeilen sie sich."

  "But, highness … . I have instructions … her highness the duchess must be informed."

  "The duchess? She's here? Not at Streihow?"

  "No, indeed, sir. She returned last night, after … after you were not to be found." His eyes were round with fright. "There has been terrible concern, highness. Orders have been issued that if word came about you, her highness was to know at once."

  I hadn't counted on this she ought to have been at Strelhow still, damn her. It complicated matters—or did it? I stood thinking quickly, while the major-domo hopped from one foot to the other, and made up my mind.

  "Well, I'll tell her myself," says I. "Now, my good fellow, do exactly as I have told you—and the less said about my return the better—understand?"

  I left him chattering obedience, and went up the great staircase four at a time, and strode along to the duchess's apartments. There were the usual yellow-jacketed sentries at her door, stiffening to attention at the sight of me, and rolling their eyes in astonishment—wouldn't have done for the 11th Hussars, I'll tell you. I thumped on the panels, and after a moment a feminine voice called out sleepily: "Wer klopft?"

  "Carl Gustaf," says I, and to the sentries: "Let no one pass."

  There was a feminine squeaking from within, and the door opened on the pert little red-haired lady-in-waiting whom Rudi had fancied; she was staring astonishment with one eye and rubbing the sleep out of the other—a very pretty picture of disarray, with one tit peeping out of her night-dress. It's as well I'm leaving Strackenz, thinks I, for I wouldn't have been a faithful husband for long.

  "Where's your mistress?" says I, and at that moment the inner door opened, and Irma appeared, a gown pulled hastily round her shoulders.

  "What is it, Helga? Who was knock—", and then at the sight of me she gave a little scream, swayed for a moment, and then flung herself forward into my arms. "Carl! Oh, Carl! Carl!"

  Oh, well, I might have been faithful for a while, anyway; the feel of that warm young body against mine was like an electric shock, and it was no pretence when I hugged her to me and returned the kisses that she rained on my lips and cheeks.

  "Oh, Carl!" She stared up at me, tears on her lovely face. "Oh, my dear, what has happened to your head?"

  For a moment I didn't understand; then I remembered. My fine bald poll hadn't had the razor over it for two or three days now, and I was sporting a fine black bristle, like an old brush. Trust a woman to hit on the least important thing!

  "Nothing, my dear darling," says I, and smothered her lovingly. "All's well, now that I have you again."

  "But what has happened? Where have you been? I was mad with anxiety—" She gave a little scream. "You are wounded! Your arm—"

  "There, there, sweeting," says I, giving her another squeeze for luck. "Set your fears at rest. It's a scratch, nothing more." I turned her round, murmuring endearments, and led her into her own bedchamber, away from the delighted and curious gaze of young Helga. I shut the door, and at once her questions broke out afresh. I hushed her and sat down on the edge of the bed—it would have been splendid to curl up with her, but there wasn't time.

  "There has been a rebellion—a plot, rather, against the duchy. Your throne, our lives, were threatened." I cut short her cry of dismay. "It is all over—nearly over, at any rate. There is a little still to do, but thanks to the loyalty of certain of your subjects— our subjects—the worst is passed, and there is no more to fear."

  "But … but I don't understand," she began, and then that beautiful face hardened. "Who was it? Those agitators—those creatures of the gutter! I knew it!"

  "Now, now," says I soothingly, "calm yourself. It is all past; Strackenz is safe—and most of all, you are safe, my sweet." And I wrapped her up again, most enjoyably.

  She began to tremble, and then to sob. "Oh, Carl, oh, thank God! You have really come back! Oh, my dear, I have been ready to die! I thought … I thought you were …"

  "Ah, well, you see, I wasn't. There, there. Now dry your eyes, my darling, and listen." She blinked at me, dabbing at her eyelashes—God, she was a beauty, in her flimsy night-rail—they seemed to be wearing them very low in Strackenz that winter, and I was beginning to come all over of a heat, what with her nearness and the scent of her hair, and the troubled adoration in her lovely eyes.

  "It is quite crushed, this—this plot," says I. "No, hear me out—I shall explain everything in time, but for the moment you must trust me, and do precisely as I say. It is done-finished—safe, all but for a few details, which require my attention… ."

  "Details? What details?"

  "There's no time now. I must be away again." She cried out at this. "It is only for a moment, darling—a few hours, and I shall be with you, and we'll never be parted again—never."

  She started to weep again, clinging to me, refusing to let me go, protesting that I would be going into danger, and all the rest of it. I tried to comfort her, and then the baggage opened her mouth on mine, and pushed her hand between my thighs, murmuring to me to stay.

  By gum, it agitated me; I wondered if I had time? No, by God, I daren't—I had lost precious minutes already. She was stroking away, and my head was swimming with her, but I just put lust second to common sense for once, and forced her gently away.

  "You must stay here," says I firmly. "With a strong guard on the palace and on your room itself. Oh, darling, believe me, it is vital! I would not go, but I must—and you must remember that you are a duchess, and the protector of your people—and, and all that. Now will you trust me, and believe me that I do this for the safety of Strackenz and my own darling?"

  These royal wenches are made of stern stuff, of course; tell 'em it's for their country's sake and they become all proudly dutiful and think they're Joan of Arc. I gave her some more patriotism mixed with loving slush, and at last she agreed to do what she was told. I swore I'd be back in an hour or two, and hinted that we would stay in bed for a week, and at this she flung herself on me again.

  "Oh, my darling!" says she, wriggling against me. "How can I let you go?"

  "Just for a bit," says I. "And then—ah, but I can't stop now." She was getting me into a fever. "No, I promise I shall take care. I won't get hurt—and if I do, there'll be another chap along shortly—that is, no … I mean … I shall return, my darling." I gave her one last tremendous hug, and left her stretching out her arms to me. It was quite touching, really—she loved me, you know, and if I hadn't been in such a damned hurry I'd have been quite sorry to leave her.

  Next door Mistress Helga had restored herself to decency, but from the flush on her cheeks I suspected she'd been listening at the door. I instructed her sternly to look after her mistress and to see that she kept to her room; then I stepped out into the passage. The sentries were stiff as ramrods; I repeated my orders that no one was to pass, either way, and set off for the clock tower.

  It wasn't difficult to find; up another flight of the main stairs—there were two more sentries at the top, whom I sent to join Irma's guard—and then up a spiral stairway and along a short passage to a wrought-iron gateway. Just before the gate there was a little guard-room, where I found an ensign and two sentries; the men were playing cards and the ensign was lounging in a chair, but at sight of me they were on their feet in an instant, goggling and fumbling with buttons. I lost no time.

  "Fahnrich," says I, "there has been an attempt at a coup d'etat. The duchess's life has been threatened."

  They stared at me aghast.

  "No time to tell you more," I went on briskly. "The situation is in hand, but I have to leave the palace at once in order to take charge at the scene of the outbreak. You understand? Now, then, what's your name?"

  "W-w-wessel, please your highness," he stammered.

  "Very good, Fahnrich Wessel. Now, attend to me. For the safety of the duchess, I have already mounted a guard on her apartments. Yo
u, with your men here, will proceed there at once, and you will take command. You will permit no one—no one, you understand—to pass into her highness's apartment until I return. Is that clear?"

  "Why—why, yes, your highness. But our post here—the crown jewels… ."

  "There is a jewel, infinitely more precious to us all, to be guarded," says I portentously. "Now, take your men and go quickly."

  "Of course, highness … on the instant." He hesitated. "But, pardon, highness—it is the first order of the palace guard that never shall the jewels be left unwatched. These are explicit instructions… ."

  "Fahnrich Wessel," says I, "do you wish to be a lieutenant some day? Or would you prefer to be a private? I know the sacred value of the regalia as well as you, but there are times when even jewels are unimportant." (I couldn't think of one, offhand, but it sounded well.) "So, off with you. I take full responsibility. Indeed, I'll do better. Give me the keys, and I shall carry them myself."

  That settled it. He clicked his heels, squeaked at his men, and sent them off at the double. He took the keys from his own belt, and passed them to me as though they were red-hot; then he gathered up his sabre and cap and was off, but I called him back.

  "Wessel," says I, in a softer voice. "You are not married?"

  "No, highness."

  "But you are perhaps a lover?"

  He went pink. "Highness, I… ."

  "You understand, I think." I frowned and forced a smile together—one of those grimaces of the strong man moved—and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Take care of her for me, won't you?"

  He was one of those very young, intense creatures of the kind you see addressing heaven in the background of pictures showing Napoleon crossing the Alps in dancing pumps; he went red with emotion.[40]

  "With my life, highness," says he, gulping, and he snatched my hand, kissed it, and sped away.

  Well, that was Ensign Wessel taken care of. He'd cut the whole bloody German army to bits before he let anyone near Irma. Likewise, and more important, he didn't doubt his prince for a minute. Ah, the ideals of youth, I thought, as I sorted out the keys.

  There were three of them; one to the ironwork gate, a second to the door beyond it, and a third to the little cage, shrouded in velvet, which stood on a table in the centre of the small jewel-room. It was so easy I could have cheered. There was a valise in the guard-room, and I laid it open beside the table and went to work.

  God, what a haul it was! There were the rings, the staff of sovereignty, the diamond-and-emerald gold chain, the duchess's collar, and the two crowns—they didn't have to be bent, after all. The Sword of State I left behind, as too unwieldy, but there were a couple of necklaces I hadn't seen before and a jewelled casket, so in they went.

  I was sweating, not with exertion but excitement, as I shut the valise and strapped it up; it weighed about a ton, and suddenly I was asking myself: where was I going to fence this collection? Oh, well, time to worry about that when I was safe over the border, and back in England or France. Thank God the only name Sapten and Co. knew me by was Thomas Arnold—they were welcome to call at his tombstone if they felt like it, and ask for their money back. They had no way of tracing me, even if they dared—for if they ever did ferret me out, what could they do that wouldn't cause an unholy international scandal? But they'd never even know where to look in England—I was safe as houses.

  Aye—once I'd got away: time was flying. It was full dawn outside by now. I locked the cage, arranged its velvet cover, locked the door and the gate, and set off down the stairs, lugging my bag with me. I emerged cautiously at the head of the grand staircase—thanks to my sending the sentries away there wasn't a soul in sight. I stole down, and was tip-toeing towards the head of the last flight when I heard footsteps along the passage. Quickly I thrust the valise behind the base of a statue; I was just in time. Old Schwerin, the Chief Minister, still with his nightcap on and a robe-de-chambre flapping round his ankles, was hobbling along towards me, with a little knot of attendants fussing in his wake.

  He was in a tremendous taking, of course; I thought the old ass would have a seizure. Forcing myself not to panic at the delay, I stilled his questions with the same recital of tommy-rot that I'd served up to Irma and the ensign—well, I say I stilled them, but he babbled on, demanding details and explanations, and eventually I only shut him up by taking a strong line, insisting on the need for haste on my part—I had to get back to the scene of the action at once, I told him.

  "Oh, God!" groans he, and sank down on a sofa. "Oh, the unhappy country! What shall we do?"

  "Nonsense, sir," says I, stifling a sudden desire to run for it, "I have told you the alarm is over—all but over, anyway. What remains to do is to see that no disorders follow—to quiet our contending factions, Danish and German, in the city itself. This shall be your first concern." And for some reason I asked: "Which side are you on, by the way?"

  He stopped moaning and gazed up at me like a dying retriever. "I am for Strackenz, highness," says he. He was no fool, this one, for all he was an old woman.

  "Excellent!" I cried. "Then summon the ministers at onceyou'd better get dressed first—and send these people"—I indicated his followers—" to wait upon the duchess."

  It was going to be like a galloping field day at her apartments, but the more of them were out of the way the better.

  "Above all," says I, "try to communicate as little disquiet as possible. Now set about it, if you please."

  He gathered himself up, and shooed away the crowd.

  "And yourself, highness?" he quavered. "You are going into danger? But you will take a strong escort with you?"

  "No," says I, "the fewer who see me go, the better." That was God's truth, too. "Not another word, sir. For the duchess's sake, do as I have bidden you."

  "You will have a care, highness?" he pleaded. "I beg of you. For her sake—and for our country's. Oh, but must you go?"

  I was almost bursting with anxiety, but I had to humour the senile bastard.

  "Sir," says I, "have no fear. Briefly as I have been in Strackenz, I owe a debt to this duchy already, and I intend to pay it in full."

  He drew himself upright and straightened his night-cap. "God bless you, highness," says he, all moist and trembling. "You are in the true mould of the Oldenbourgs."

  Well, from what I've seen of European royalty, he may well have been right. I gave him my manliest smile, pressed his hand, and watched him totter away to guard the destiny of the duchy, God help it. He was going to have his work cut out.

  As soon as he was round the corner I heaved out my valise, adjusted it over my shoulder by a strap, and pulled my ridingcloak over that side, The swag had a tendency to clank as I walked, so I paced slowly down the broad staircase and across the hall; the little major-domo was waiting, hopping in anxiety. There was a horse at the door, he pointed out, and its saddle-bags were packed. I thanked him and walked out into the morning.

  There were guardsmen there, of course, and a couple of officers all agog at the rumours that must have been flying about. I instructed them to post their men at the palace railings, and to let no one pass without my orders—with any luck they might blow Sapten's grizzled head off when he arrived. Then I mounted, very carefully, which is damned difficult to do when you have a stone or two of loot swinging under your cloak, took the reins in my free hand, and addressed the officers again:

  "I ride to Jotunberg!"

  I cantered off down the great carriage-sweep, and they opened the gates at my approach. I stopped at the sentry and quietly inquired which was the western road to Lauenburg, and he told me—that would reach Sapten's ears, for certain, and should set him on the wrong track. Five minutes later I was clattering out of Strackenz City, making south-east towards Brandenburg.

  10

  I've noticed that in novels, when the hero has to move any distance at all, he leaps on to a mettlesome steed which carries him at breakneck speed over incredible distances—without ever casting a shoe,
or going lame, or simply running out of wind and strength. On my flight from Strackenz, admittedly, my beast bore up remarkably well, despite the fact that I rode him hard until we were over the border and into Prussia. After that I went easier, for I'd no wish to have him founder under me before I'd put some distance between myself and possible pursuit. But thirty miles, with my weight to carry, is asking a lot of any animal, and by afternoon I was looking for a place to lie up until he was fit for the road again.

  We found one, in an old barn miles from anywhere, and I rubbed him down and got him some fodder, before using up some of my store of cold food for myself. I took a tack to the south next day, for it seemed to me on reflection that the wider I could pass from Berlin, the better. I know my luck—I was going to have to go closer to Schönhausen than was comfortable, and it would have been just like it if I'd run into dear Otto on the way. (As it happened, I needn't have worried; there was plenty to occupy him in Berlin just then.) But I had planned out my line of march: acting on the assumption that the safest route was through the heart of Germany to Munich, where I could choose whether to go on to Switzerland, Italy, or even France, I had decided to make first of all for Magdeburg, where I could take to the railway. After that it should be plain sailing to Munich, but in the meantime I would ride by easy stages, keeping to the country and out of sight so far as possible—my baggage wouldn't stand examination, if I ran across any of the great tribe of officials who are always swarming in Germany, looking for other folk's business to meddle in.

  In fact, I was being more cautious than was necessary. There was no telegraph in those days to overtake the fugitive,[41] and even if there had been, and the Strackenzians had been silly enough to use it, no one in Germany would have had much time for me. While I was sneaking from one Prussian hedge to another with my bag of loot, Europe was beginning to erupt in the greatest convulsion she had known since Napoleon died. The great revolts, of which I had heard a murmur from Rudi, were about to burst on an astonished world: they had begun in Italy, where the excitable spaghettis were in a ferment; soon Metternich would be scuttling from Vienna; the French had proclaimed yet another republic; Berlin would see the barricades up within a month, and Lola's old leaping-partner, Ludwig, would shortly be bound for the knacker's yard. I knew nothing of all these things, of course, and I take some pride in the fact that while thrones were toppling and governments melting away overnight, I was heading for home with a set of crown jewels. There's a moral there, I think, if I could only work out what it was.