Part 45 (1/2)

”Here I am, Mr. King. Gee, I hate a bed as big as this. They just make me sleep in it.”

An old woman advanced from the head of the couch and motioned Truxton to approach.

”I am deeply honoured, your Highness,” said the visitor, bowing very low. Through the windows he could see motionless soldiers standing guard in the balcony.

”Come over here, Mr. King. Nurse won't let me get up. Excuse my nighty, will you, please? I'm to have pajamas next winter.”

Truxton advanced to the side of the bed. His eyes had swept the room in search of the one person he wanted most to see of all in the world. An old male servitor was drawing the curtains at the lower end of the room.

There was no one else there, except the nurse. They seemed as much a part of the furnis.h.i.+ngs of this room as if they had been fixtures from the beginning.

”I am sure you will like them,” said Truxton, wondering whether she were divinely secreted in one of the great, heavily draped window recesses.

She had been in this room but recently. A subtle, delicate, enchanting perfume that he had noticed earlier in the evening--ah, he would never forget it.

The Prince's legs were now hanging over the edge of the bed. His eyes were dancing with excitement; sleep was momentarily routed.

”Say, Mr. King, I wish I was going with you to find Uncle Jack. You will find him, won't you? I'm going to say it in my prayers to-night and every night. They won't hardly let me leave this room. It's rotten luck.

I want to fight, too.”

”We are all fighting for you, Prince Robin.”

”I want you to find Uncle Jack, Mr. King,” went on Bobby eagerly. ”And tell him I didn't mean it when I banished him the other day. I really and truly didn't.” He was having difficulty in keeping back the tears.

”I shall deliver the message, your Highness,” said Truxton, his heart going out to the unhappy youngster. ”Rest a.s.sured of that, please. Go to sleep and dream that I have found him and am bringing him back to you.

The dream will come true.”

”Are you sure?” brightening perceptibly.

”Positively.”

”Americans always do what they say they will,” said the boy, his eyes snapping. ”Here's something for you to take with you, Mr. King. It's my lucky stone. It always gives good luck. Of course, you must promise to bring it back to me. It's an omen.”

He unclasped his small fingers; in the damp palm lay one of those peculiarly milky, half-transparent pebbles, common the world over and of value only to small, impressionable boys. Truxton accepted it with profound gravity.

”I found it last 4th of July, when we were celebrating out there in the park. I'm always going to have a 4th of July here. Don't you lose it, Mr. King, and you'll have good luck. Baron Dangloss says it's the luckiest kind of a stone. And when you come back, Mr. King, I'm going to knight you. I'd do it now, only Aunt Loraine says you'd be worrying about your t.i.tle all the time and might be 'stracted from your mission.

I'm going to make a baron of you. That's higher than a count in Graustark. Vos Engo is only a count.”

Truxton started. He looked narrowly into the frank, engaging eyes of the boy in the nighty.

”I shall be overwhelmed,” he said. Then his hand went to his mouth in the vain effort to cover the smile that played there.

”My mother used to say that American girls liked t.i.tles,” said the Prince with ingenuous candor.

”Yes?” He hoped that she was eavesdropping.

”Nurse said that I was not to keep you long, Mr. King,” said the Prince ruefully. ”I suppose you are very busy getting ready. I just wanted to give you my lucky stone and tell you about being a baron. I won't have any luck till you come back. Tell Mr. Hobbs I'm thinking of making him a count. You're awful brave, Mr. King.”

”Thank you, Prince Robin. May I--” he glanced uneasily at the distant nurse--”may I ask how your Aunt Loraine is feeling?”

”She acted very funny when I sent for you. I'm worried about her.”