Part 19 (1/2)
”Willie,” on reading it, became very grave. Then, striking a match, he lit it, and held it until it was consumed. There was a second letter--which I saw was from the Emperor. This he also read, and then gave vent to an expression of impatience. For a few minutes he reflected, and it was then he announced that we must go to Plymouth next day.
On arrival there we went to the Royal Hotel, where the Crown-Prince registered as Mr. Richter, engaging a private suite of rooms for himself and his secretary, myself. For three days we remained there, taking motor runs to Dartmoor, and also down into Cornwall, until on the morning of the fourth day the Crown-Prince suddenly said:
”I shall probably have a visitor this morning about eleven o'clock--a young lady named King. Tell them at the bureau to send her up to my sitting-room.”
At the time appointed the lady came. I received her in the lobby of the self-contained flat, and found her to be about twenty-four, well-dressed, fair-haired and extremely good-looking. Knowing the Crown-Prince's _penchant_ for the petticoat, I saw at once the reason of our journey down to Plymouth.
Miss King, I learned, was an English girl who some years previously had gone to America with her people, and by the heavy travelling coat and close-fitting hat she wore I concluded that she had just come off one of the incoming American liners.
One thing which struck me as I looked at her was the brooch she wore. It was a natural b.u.t.terfly of a rare tropical variety, with bright golden wings, the delicate sheen of which was protected by small plates of crystal--one of the most charming ornaments I had ever seen.
As I ushered her in she greeted the Crown-Prince as ”Mr. Richter,” being apparently entirely unaware of his real ident.i.ty. I concluded that she was somebody whom His Highness had met in Germany, and to whom he had been introduced under his a.s.sumed name.
”Ah! Miss King!” he exclaimed pleasantly in his excellent English, shaking hands with her. ”Your boat should have been in yesterday. I fear you encountered bad weather--eh?”
”Yes, rather,” replied the girl. ”But it did not trouble me much. We had almost constant gales ever since we left New York,” she laughed brightly. She appeared to be quite a charming little person. But his fast-living Highness was perhaps one of the best judges of a pretty face in all Europe, and I now realized why we had travelled all the way from Potsdam to Plymouth.
”Heltzendorff, would you please bring me that sealed packet from your dispatch-box?” he asked, suddenly turning to me.
The sealed packet! I had forgotten all about it ever since he had handed it me at the door of the Marmor Palace. I knew that it contained some secret reports prepared for the eye of the Emperor. The latter had no doubt seen them, for the Crown-Prince had brought them with him from Berlin.
As ordered, I took the packet into the room where His Highness sat with his fair visitor, and then I retired and closed the door.
Hotel doors are never very heavy, as a rule, therefore I was able to hear conversation, but unfortunately few words were distinct. The interview had lasted nearly half an hour. Finding that I could hear nothing, I contented myself in reading the paper and holding myself in readiness should ”Mr. Richter” want me.
Of a sudden I heard His Highness's voice raised in anger, that shrill, high-pitched note which is peculiar both to the Emperor and to his son when they are unusually annoyed.
”But I tell you, Miss King, there is no other way,” I heard him shout.
”It can be done quite easily, and n.o.body can possibly know.”
”Never!” cried the girl. ”What would people think of me?”
”You wish to save your brother,” he said. ”Very well, I have shown you how you can effect this. And I will help you if you agree to the terms--if you will find out what I want to know.”
”I can't!” cried the girl, in evident distress. ”I really can't! It would be dishonest--criminal!”
”Bah! my dear girl, you are looking at the affair from far too high a standpoint,” replied the man she knew as Richter. ”It is a mere matter of business. You ask me to a.s.sist you to save your brother, and I have simply stated my terms. Surely you would not think that I should travel from Berlin here to Plymouth in order to meet you if I were not ready and eager to help you?”
”I must ask my father. I can speak to him in confidence.”
”Your father!” shrieked Mr. Richter in alarm. ”By no means. Why, you must not breathe a single word to him. This affair is a strict secret between us. Please understand that.” Then, after a pause, he asked in a lower and more serious voice:
”Your brother is, I quite admit, in direst peril, and you alone can save him. Now, what is your decision?”
The girl's reply was in a tone too low for me to overhear. Its tenor, however, was quickly apparent from the Crown-Prince's words:
”You refuse! Very well, then, I cannot a.s.sist you. I regret, Miss King, that you have had your journey to England for nothing.”
”But won't you help me, Mr. Richter?” cried the girl appealingly. ”Do, do, Mr. Richter!”
”No,” was his cold answer. ”I will, however, give you opportunity to reconsider your decision. You are, no doubt, going to London. So am I.