Part 37 (2/2)

At the door we were met by a porter, far too polite a person to betray the surprise which my companions Joseph and Finois invariably excited in civilisation. He helped to unfasten the pack, and as it disappeared into the vestibule, I was about to bid Joseph _au revoir_. But his face gave me pause. Like the key to a cipher, it told me all the secret workings of his mind.

”You might wait here before putting up Finois,” I said, ”until I enquire inside whether the young Monsieur and Innocentina have arrived safely. No doubt they have, as we did not catch them up on the road, and it would have been difficult to mistake the way. Still----”

”_Voila_, Monsieur!” exclaimed Joseph, his deep eyes brightening at something to be seen over my shoulder.

I turned, and there was meek, grey Souris leading the way for Innocentina and f.a.n.n.y, who were trailing slowly towards us down the street.

I was delighted to see them. Not until now had I realised how beautiful was Innocentina, how engaging the two little plush-coated donkeys. I loved all three.

”_Eh bien_, Innocentina!” I gaily cried. ”How are you? How is your young Monsieur?”

”He was well when I saw him last,” returned Innocentina. ”He must be very far away by this time.”

”Very far away?” I echoed her words blankly. ”Yes, Monsieur. Here is a letter, which he told me to deliver to you without fail. I was not to leave Chambery until I had put it into your hand, myself. I was on my way to your hotel, to see if you had arrived. Now that I have seen you”--here a starry flash at Joseph--”I can begin my journey.”

”Where, if I may ask?”

”Towards my home. Monsieur had better read his letter.”

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”VOILa, MONSIEUR!”]

I had taken the sealed envelope mechanically, without looking at it.

Now I fixed my eyes upon the address, which was written in a firm, original, and interesting hand, that impressed me as familiar, though I could not think where I had seen it. Certainly, so far as I could remember, in all my journeyings with him I had never happened to see the Boy's handwriting. Yet Innocentina said this letter was from him.

Suddenly it occurred to me that I could do something more enlightening than stare at the envelope: I could open it. I did so, breaking a seal with the same monogram I had noticed on the gold fittings in the celebrated bag. Apparently the entwined letters were M.R.L.

”Forgive me, dear Man,” were the first words I read, and they rang like a knell in my heart. Without going further I knew what was coming. I was to hear that I had lost the Boy.

”Dear Man, the Prince vanishes, not because he wishes it, but because he must. He can't explain. But, though you may not understand now, believe this. He has been happier in these wanderings, since you and he were friends, than he ever was before. You have been more than good to the troublesome 'Brat' who has upset all your arrangements and calculations so often. Perhaps you may never see the Boy any more.

Yet, who knows what may happen at Monte Carlo? Anyhow, whatever comes in the future, he will never forget, never cease to care for you; and of one thing besides he is sure. Never again will he like any other man as much as the One Man who deserves to begin with a capital.

”Good-bye, dear Man, and all good things be with you, wherever you may go, is the prayer of--Boy.”

Perhaps never to see the Boy again! Why, I must be dreaming this. I should wake up soon, and everything would be as it had been. I had the sensation of having swallowed something very large and very cold, which would not melt. Reading the letter over for the second time made it no better, but rather worse. The Boy had become almost as important in my scheme of life as my lungs or my legs, and I did not quite see, at the moment, how it would be any more possible to get on without one than the other.

Behold, I was stricken down by mine own familiar friend; yet no wrath against him burned within me; there was only that cold lump of disappointment, which seemed to be increasing to the size of a small iceberg. Even lacking explanations, or attempt at them, I knew that he had told the truth without flattery. He had wanted to stay, yet he had gone. And he said that perhaps I might never see him again! If I could have had my choice last night, whether to have the Boy lopped off my life, or to lose a hand, the probabilities are that I would have sacrificed the hand. But I had been offered no choice.

I recalled our parting, and found new meaning in the words he had spoken at his door. There was no doubt about it; even then he had decided to break away from me.

I realised this, and at the same instant rebelled against the decision. I determined not to accept it. He had vanished because of the two Americans; exactly why, I could not even guess, but I was certain that the reason was not to his discredit. To theirs, perhaps, but not to his. Nevertheless, they were somehow to blame for my loss, and if the young men had appeared at this moment, I should have been impelled to do them a mischief.

The princ.i.p.al thing was, however, not to let them cheat me irrevocably of my comrade. I would not depend solely upon that hint about Monte Carlo. I would find out where he had gone, and I would follow. Let him be angry if he would. His anger, though a hot flame while it burned, never endured long.

”Did Monsieur leave here by rail?” I enquired of Innocentina.

She shrugged her shoulders. ”That I cannot tell.”

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