Chapter X: Part 10

So that evening we sat on the terrace as usual, and instead of wasting the time--if it can be so harshly described--we tried to work out some way of encouraging art in Rudarlia. It was a most puzzling question, for there was always the danger of overdoing the assistance we could give to artists, as well as the chance of offending their susceptibilities by what they might look upon as charity; they are so very difficult to tackle, these people with artistic temperaments.

It was, however, a most interesting conversation, during which I discovered that my wife had much more knowledge of the subject under discussion than I had; and later I found that she herself was very fond of dabbling in various mediums, with a considerable amount of success.

We practically decided that night to found a colony devoted to the arts in Karena, and I knew just whereabouts that colony would have its quarters.

There was considerable risk, to my mind, in this idea of ours. Art to a nation is, I suppose, almost a necessity in some shape or other, but it must be controlled, either by the artists themselves or by the force of public opinion. Now in Karena, which we proposed to make the heart of our art world, public opinion was practically _non est_. The reasons for this being the want of wealth, and the want of artists. I should have felt much more secure with regard to our scheme, if I had been certain that the people really needed the fine arts to assist them in living.

I was quite well aware that the growth of proper appreciation must be very gradual, and it seemed to us that the chief point was how to lay the foundations well. It was no good thinking of taking the few Rudarlians who called themselves artists, and giving them unlimited paint, or clay, or pianos, to work their own sweet will upon, for that must lead to either rank imitation, or work of the crudest kind. We should thus be obtaining no benefit, for there were many worthless daubs to be seen, although not all by Rudarlians.

Our honeymoon drew to a close, two weeks of the most perfect joy that I have ever known; it was so, because I had nothing to do except devote myself to Irma, afterwards it was never quite the same, as I had other things to attend to.

For a little time after our return nothing was done about our scheme, that is, nothing definite, but all the while we were both working out, to the best of our ability, the details.

I had known just whereabouts I wished the art settlement to be, but it was only owing to the death of the man who owned the place that I was able to buy it.

The property I speak of was at the back of the Palace, and consisted of the most ancient houses in the city. These houses were practically cut off from the rest of Karena; on one side by the Palace walls, or rather those of the grounds, on another by an extraordinary outcropping of rock, while on the third--for the whole was in the form of a triangle--ran a small canal.

The only way of getting to this place was by means of a bridge over the canal, unless one climbed the walls of my gardens, or was lowered from the top of the rock. This place therefore was a perfect nest, and really ideal for our settlement.

How it had remained so, untouched by the spirit of modernity, was always a puzzle to me. The moment the bridge over the canal was crossed, I felt as though I had stepped from the twentieth into the fifteenth century. I do not believe there was a single modern building in the place; everywhere one looked, it was mediaeval.

I remember the first time that we went there after having purchased it, just Irma, my mother, Mr. Neville, and myself, and we enjoyed it thoroughly. There had been few people living in the houses, which had not been cared for, and these few were only too pleased to turn out of their quarters for a consideration.

We therefore found the place absolutely deserted, save for a few pigeons, and cats who would not desert their old haunts.

The doors of most of the houses had been left unlocked, so we went round the narrow cobbled streets, entering those buildings which seemed most desirable; some were really fine houses, with large rooms containing great carved beams, leaded lights, and other delightful things. Naturally, the outsides were in keeping, and no matter where we looked we could see old door-ways, queer gargoyles, and little courtyards, the walls of which would in all probability be covered with lichen. In some parts, we seemed to be walking in a tunnel, so close were the houses to one another, and occasionally, at the end of these streets, we caught sight of the sunlit canal. I was very, very pleased with my purchase.

As we walked and examined, we explained to my mother and Mr. Neville what we proposed doing.

I think that at first she, or rather they, thought that marriage had made me a little mad; but as my explanation grew, both in length and conciseness, they began to think that after all something might be said for our idea. I told them that the houses should remain as they were, but with modern improvements, and that when the necessary alterations had been effected I proposed inviting artists of all kinds to come and live there: painters, sculptors, composers, engravers, writers, and metal workers. I then went on to draw most alluring visions of what I hoped would be the result. I pictured all these various artists living here much as they did in towns in the middle ages, working with the certainty that any really meritorious piece of art would be more thought of than a dozen inferior works, and that appreciation, consideration, and understanding would go hand in hand with profit.

Then I went on to tell them how I proposed having a gatehouse erected at the canal bridge, and instal some old pensioner and family in it.

"And how about feeding your colony?" asked Mr. Neville.

"I intend having just a few shops, and shall have one inn; that old place with the big hall, I think it will do as the dining-hall for unmarried artists."

"Where do you propose obtaining the artists you speak of?"

"I don't know yet, but I do not think there will be much difficulty in getting them to come here. I shall try the great art centres first, and then the smaller ones; I shall invite the famous men to stay for as long as they wish, and execute some splendid piece of work for Rudarlia."

"Yes, Victor is going to have his portrait painted in the uniform of each of his regiments; all the paintings will be collected in one building, which will be called The Hall of the King, and I shall be expected to spend so many hours a day there as a dutiful wife." A remark strangely flippant for a newly-married Queen to make.

My mother laughed, which was wrong of her, and said quietly:

"From what I know of the portraits of Royalty, all the works would be so much unlike each other that they would have to bear an identification tablet."

"How nice! I can imagine that I have ever so many different husbands, and so need not get tired of one."

"I can see that this will lead to a family quarrel, so will turn the subject," said Mr. Neville.

"You need not trouble," laughed my fond parent. "Victor will do that himself, by letting loose a herd of wild artists in this peaceful community."

"Another thing that I shall do," I said, "is this: no Royal person shall be allowed to come here without a special permit."

"He would keep us out of Eden," murmured Irma.

"Zeula with a brush full of paint shall keep the entrance."

That was from Mr. Neville, so as I had them all against me I surrendered.

Now that we had possession of this place, it was not many weeks before the workmen were in, for we did not want to lose time, being both young enough to feel excited about our plans. I think it must be one of the most terrible things in life, to lose the power of feeling excited. My respect for architects grew enormously during the next few weeks, they knew so much that I did not; for instance, it seemed to me the simplest thing in the world to put pipes and things into a house to conduct water from the main, but it appeared to be more difficult than I imagined, and much discussion was necessary. I could not understand why, when there was a blank wall, I could not have a window knocked through it, and I finally came to the conclusion that a statesman of one of the great powers--the Foreign Minister of England, for example--does not have to be more careful than an architect knocking a window in a blank wall, so as not to disturb the balance of power.

Unless we had seen it ourselves we should never have believed that there was so much to be done in the place. It was almost staggering, and yet all the repairs and alterations were absolutely necessary; there were rooms to be converted into studios, and workshops and a hundred smaller alterations. It was a most wonderful hobby for both of us, not to speak of many others who were interested in a lesser degree. I think Zeula was almost as keen as we were, he spent hours in the vicinity; he had liked the idea the moment he had heard of it, and had immediately offered his services in any way we could use them. Another person who spent much of his spare time there was Bauen, he could generally be found keeping a watchful eye upon the workmen, and no doubt yarning with them, and telling those who wished, wonderful tales of their King.

I had had a gate made in the wall of the Palace gardens, and Irma and I used to go down when the workmen had finished for the day, to see what progress had been made, and what new arrangements we could suggest. Then the day came when there was enough done to allow us to begin filling our nest with birds.

This we did slowly, with much deliberation, and with the assistance of some of the great artists of the world, who most kindly offered to help us. From reports which I received indirectly from the large centres, I caused a list to be made of those artists to whom should be sent an invitation to come to Karena. They were not all famous--in fact, there were only a few to whom that term might be applied--but they were all of an artistic calibre which made it possible for them to become so.

From Rudarlia I had a goodly few, who were eager to profit by the wonderful chance which this scheme of ours offered them, and the great men were ever ready to take them into their studios, to instruct and assist them. I had never realised how much goodness there was among artists until then, I had always looked upon them as essentially selfish people; but then I had known very few, and those, perhaps, bad examples. It was a lesson to me not to misjudge a class by a few specimens. I fear one is rather given to so doing.

It was wonderful to watch the beginning of a settlement, the incoming, the furnishing, and the gradual fall in the excitement; each new-comer took his own time to get used to the place, and artists might be seen all about Karena, gazing and exploring, but soon the first batch had settled down, and work was commenced.

From that time my education advanced along artistic lines, and I began to understand something of the innermost strivings of those men who were adding to the beauty of the world.

Most days, I managed to visit the place for half an hour or so, and when possible Irma accompanied me. Without any fuss or preparation we went to this studio, or that workshop, and were greeted everywhere with smiles, for these good people learnt to look upon us as friends, and were always pleased to show us anything which they thought might interest us; occasionally we made some little purchase, occasionally we gave some bigger commission.

There was one building reserved for exhibitions of paintings and drawings, another for the crafts, while a large hall was generally full of sculpture. These formed a permanent exhibition, although the work exhibited was not always the same, as each month the artists had the right to change their works there for others, and replace any that had been sold.

This exhibition was a source of great interest to Karenians, and others; indeed, most visitors who came to the city were anxious to see the work accomplished by my artists, as both Irma and myself called them, and many of these visitors went away with purchases and few of them apparently regretted the money spent.

We set the fashion of giving works of art as presents, and I am glad to be able to state that the fashion remains in full favour.

The other artistic professions were not neglected, there being studios set aside for musicians of all kinds, but I found it more difficult to arrange a plan whereby the pecuniary side of their work might benefit. I therefore arranged that each week a concert should be given, and also that there should be a certain season when any of the masters might give grand opera, the players, of course, being the students. Karena boasted of an opera house; and, although I do not pose as an authority, I believe the musical side of the Rudarlian life was rather highly developed before this settlement came into being.

Some six months after the place was in full working order, one of the famous European artists, who happened to be staying as my guest, and who was full of enthusiasm for the scheme, suggested that the lack of old masters in Karena was a serious handicap for the students. I questioned him closely on the subject, heard all he had to say, and then interrogated others; the greater number agreed that a collection of the works of the famous masters would be of incalculable value to the artists generally.

This was a new idea, and I must confess that it appealed to me; I think that I wanted Karena to be able to boast also of a National Gallery, but there were many things to be thought of before this could be undertaken. The greatest difficulty was procuring the works themselves, how was that possible even though I should desire it; many pictures are sold as old masters, but there must be many fakes among them. Another thing was the expense; I had no wish to invest a large sum of money in pictures, for in a newly developing country like mine there were countless other ways of spending money, with infinitely more advantage to the nation. What I finally did was this: I let it be known all over Rudarlia that I would provide a gallery, if the Rudarlians themselves would provide the pictures, either as gifts to the nation or as loans.

The result surprised me, I had had no idea that the artistic scheme which Irma and I had originated had so taken the public fancy; but it appeared that it had, and almost immediately I received notification that there were a large number of nobles and others who would consider it an honour to have their old pictures hung in the National Gallery in Karena. It must have astonished many people to know that Rudarlia had many authentic works of the great masters, men like Rubens, Rembrandt, and Titian, stowed away in various old castles and chateaux. These were offered generously by their owners, some as gifts, others as loans, so I perforce had to keep to my promise and provide a suitable building for the housing. This expense I looked upon as a most legitimate one, for it gave work to a number of men, thus circulating money among the working class, added to the beauty of Karena, and incidentally added to the value of the city as an art centre.

In building this gallery, I was determined to employ only Rudarlian brains, labour, and materials, and so the first thing I did was to open a competition among Rudarlian architects, all over the country, for the best design for the proposed gallery.

I did not judge these myself, but left the decision to a famous French architect who was staying in Karena. I found that his choice was much the same as Irma's and mine, so that design was decided upon, and the architect who had submitted it was awarded the prize. Strange to say, he was an absolutely unknown man from a small town in Garace. The next thing, was to decide upon the builder, but this I left to others to think about.

We had chosen a site in an excellent position, near the Palace, and therefore close to the settlement; and it was with a feeling almost akin to awe that Irma laid the foundation stone. She told me of this feeling and asked me to explain it, which was more than I could do, but I did suggest that she was fearful of the effect the gallery might have on the Rudarlians.

At last the building was completed. What a day that was, it is simply burnt upon my memory with ineffaceable delight, not because we were going to open a National Gallery of Art, not because we had accomplished something for Rudarlia, but because upon that day Irma told me something; told me shyly, yet with a deep, wonderful pride, that I was to be a father.

We had then been married for three years, and I think that all the nation worried that no child had been born to us. In my heart, I, too, had been rather despondent, for so much hung upon our having a family, and more powerful still was my desire to hold my own child in my arms.

I believe that all those who came in contact with me that day thought that I was a little too exhilarated at thoughts of opening a gallery; they put it down to that, poor dears, not knowing what the real reason was. In all probability, a thousand husbands feel just the same every time such news is broken to them, but then I would not have allowed that; I was bursting with pride, and an insane desire to take every one into my confidence.

What an absurd thing young human nature is, that is, when it is natural and nice--and I was both.

I remember nothing of the opening ceremony, except that various speeches were made and a great number of people cheered themselves hoarse when Irma and I appeared. Irma told me afterwards, so did Mr. Neville, so did Zeula, so did my mother, that my speech convulsed every one who heard it; that I had appeared in a new role: that of a wit. I should never have believed them, had they not made me read the report of what I had said, which appeared in the newspaper. It certainly was humorous, but I have never attempted to repeat it, rather luckily, too, in my opinion.

It was in connection with this gallery, that I instituted a new Order in Rudarlia: the Order of Merit.

Ever since my accession, I had been thinking in a half-hearted fashion of doing so, but now I made up my mind that such an Order would be most useful to reward those Rudarlians who served the state in either a direct or indirect manner. I wished if possible to widen the area of such a distinction, not only to confine it to the professions. Any man who by his labour served Rudarlia might be entitled to receive the Order, but the different labours must be kept apart from one another; I mean, by that, that a soldier wearing the Order must be distinguishable from the great lawyer, and so on. This I did by using different coloured ribbons. All men with the right to wear the distinction were to be known as Chevalier. They and their wives had also the right to appear at Court.

For this I received some abuse, no doubt, but I shall always maintain that class distinction, based on birth alone, is a mistake, and calculated to work a tremendous amount of mischief. That a man who employs thousands of other men to make articles, or raise food, for the nation, should be looked down upon by those whose ancestors fought for their country and were ennobled is wrong.

So many people do not realise that national service is not necessarily performed only by fighting. And those same people do not realise that times have changed; they do not wish to advance with the civilisation of their country, never thinking that the rich man of to-day may be the founder of a noble family which shall do much for the honour and advancement of their land. I do not deny, however, that the said noble family may, in a hundred years or so, look down and sneer at their less highly placed neighbours; but then human nature is very funny if you think about it, and extremely illogical.

There must be expansion in everything, and in such a country as Rudarlia, where classes exist, I hold that the noble class is all the stronger and better for the introduction into its ranks of all types of brains, that is, of course, the finer types; I do not suggest criminal types, or fools, or even sentimentalists, for as a rule such types are not unknown among the denizens of the aristocracy in all countries. It was my wish, therefore, to obtain this fresh blood in the titled families by choosing recruits from the ranks of those who had achieved.

For the first few months that followed the opening of the gallery, I do not believe there ever was a happier monarch than myself. It became almost a disease, and, strange to say, nearly all those who surrounded me caught the complaint. My mother at thought of possessing a grandchild was almost delirious with joy. Zeula was worse; he began to talk to me upon every occasion when we were alone about my heir, and to wonder about his education, his names, every conceivable thing which could be imagined. And I liked it, and encouraged him. At first we were both prone to talk as though the sex of the child were known; we always spoke of it as masculine, until Mr. Neville put us right by suggesting mildly that it might happen to be a girl, he had heard of such cases, he said. I will own that at his remark both Zeula and myself were rather taken aback, but after the first few minutes we went on quite calmly making our plans for a girl. Oh, the castles in the air we all built, and what a fascinating pastime it was.

About this time I had a letter from Carruthers. I have it still, occasionally I read it as an antidote, for it brings back something which I might with reason wish to forget. I used to take--and do still, for that matter--great pride in being beloved by my people, and I used to flatter myself that there was no one who could come and say to me, with truth, "Look at my misery, the result of this or that action of yours." Once before, on the day of my marriage, I had experienced a severe shock to this pride of mine, but now I was as bad as ever. The second shock, however, opened my eyes to the fact that a king can always find some one who believes that the monarch has used him ill. So it was in my case.

Carruthers' letter ran:

"MY DEAR OLD SPLOSH,

"A very curious thing has happened, which has caused me a lot of worry.

"Last week I received a letter from a woman whose name is unknown to me, asking for an interview. She informed me that what she wanted to tell me was serious, and might affect you. I saw her. The interview was interesting; as she appears to look upon you as some one divine, I did not disabuse her mind. She told me that you had assisted her to return home to England after Ivan's death, and other things, one of which was, that having heard my name used in connection with yours, she imagined that I could tell you her tale more easily than she could herself. It was this: A man had been to her farm for work, and had in the course of his stay uttered many threats against you as the cause of his downfall. From what he said the woman seemed to think that he was an illegitimate son of the late Ivan, and who had been left destitute on his father's death. She described him as being a very powerful man, dark, with a fierce wild expression. The details are meagre enough, but look out for such a man, see if your Ministers know of him. Don't take risks by ignoring this, for I am convinced that the woman was absolutely genuine. I've a jolly good mind to chuck the army, and come and look after you myself."

I did not ignore this warning, I spoke to Zeula, Woolgast, and the head of the police about it, but I fettered them by binding them to secrecy, as I did not wish the slightest rumour to reach Irma's ears. Having spoken to these men, I must confess that the warning faded from my memory; luckily, the others did not forget so easily. They, it seemed, had an anxious time. Zeula told me that before Ivan had usurped the throne he had had a son by a peasant woman, but this child had disappeared.

*CHAPTER XX*

Herr Bjornston, the eminent Swedish sculptor, to this day blames himself mightily for what happened; so do Woolgast, the Chief of Police, Prince Zeula, Mr. Neville, and others, whereas the only person to blame is myself, and I don't blame myself over-much. Perhaps I was negligent, since I had been warned; it may have been conceit on my part not to take precautions, but, as I have already stated, I knew of no one who bore me a grudge with reason.

On this occasion I had, as was my habit, gone alone to the settlement to pass an hour before settling down to a bout of work with Zeula. I did not know then that, every time I did this, my dear old servant Bauen kept me under surveillance. He always shadowed me from the Palace to the settlement, watched where I entered and waited patiently until I reappeared; so often had he done this that he knew I never stayed more than fifteen minutes in any studio. It is to this knowledge of his that I owe my life.

It was a glorious evening, and I wandered down to the house in which Herr Bjornston had his studio. How wonderful it is that everything seems mapped out in life; I remember hesitating on the door-step, undecided whether to go in there or to some other studio. I was in two minds whether I should not go to a young Englishman's place to order a small picture which I wanted to give away, but I decided that the morrow would do for that, as the artist might be out; I therefore rapped at Bjornston's door.

It was flung open, and I stepped in. The door was closed behind me. I was in what was perhaps the finest studio in the place, a really magnificent room, but it was empty save for the man who had admitted me and myself.

"Is not Herr Bjornston in, then?" I asked.

"I expect him every minute, your Majesty. He had a message which called him away an hour ago; he told me that he would return at half-past nine."

I looked at my watch, it was already past the quarter.

"You think he will return then?"

"Undoubtedly, your Majesty; Herr Bjornston is never late."

"Then I will wait."

There was a wooden chair placed near a table upon which was a lamp and various sketch-books, so I sat down and commenced to turn some pages at random. I had not given any particular attention to the man who had admitted me, but glancing at him casually I noticed that his eyes were covered or rather veiled by a green shade; he was a bearded, thick-set fellow. He advanced towards me with a portfolio in his hands.

"Perhaps your Majesty might be interested in these sketches?"

"Thank you," I said, smiling. "You suffer with your eyes?"

"Nothing serious, your Majesty, a trifle weak, that is all."

"I have not seen you before, have I?"

"I only came here last week, your Majesty."

"You assist Herr Bjornston perhaps?"

"He was kind enough to give me employment when one of his regular men fell sick."

"Oh, indeed, you are not a student then?"

"I was once, your Majesty; but fortune deserted me, and I became through necessity a labourer."

"That is sad, perhaps your luck may improve in the future."

"I hope so, your Majesty."

"What made you come to Karena?"

"I had heard of your Majesty's generosity to all artists, and thought that there might be work for me. I always like to be at work in some studio."

"Have you any of your own efforts with you?"

"Unfortunately, no, your Majesty."

"Well, we must see what you can do; there is always room for talent here."

"I thank your Majesty most sincerely."

I opened the portfolio, and the man withdrew. The sketches were of absorbing interest, most of them being the slight personal things an artist sometimes values more than his finished pictures. All were good; evidently Herr Bjornston had spent a great many years getting them together, as some of them were dated ten or twelve years previously. Most of them bore signatures famous throughout the world. I was so interested that I forgot all about the time, and it was only when I had looked at the last sketch, that I remembered, and pulled out my watch--good heavens, it was a quarter to ten! I closed the portfolio, and sat back in the chair to push it away from the table. Herr Bjornston was very late in spite of his man's assurances; still, it did not matter, I had had a pleasant visit, and there was nothing of importance that I wished to say to him.

Something seemed to be entwining my feet. I bent forward to see what it was, and immediately was pulled violently back into the chair. My surprise was so great that for a moment I could do nothing, and that moment was the finishing touch to my undoing, for the noose which had been slipped over my shoulders was pulled tight and fresh coils made round me; then I felt my feet being drawn together and realised that I was helpless.

I turned my head round and glared at my assailant, but the sight of his eyes--which he had now uncovered--caused Carruthers' warning to recur to me, and I understood without any further assault that I was in a devil of a fix.

"Untie these ropes at once."

"Your Majesty is pleased to jest."

"You will find it no jesting matter."

"You speak of the future; perhaps your Majesty will have a clearer vision to appreciate this position."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't quite know, never having been to the place to which your Majesty is going."

"Don't be foolish, my man; untie this rope and I will be lenient with you."

He drew up another chair in front of me and sat gazing into my eyes. I returned stare for stare, but I will confess to feeling very much afraid. The situation was so very unpleasant. What a fool I had been not to take precautions, I should have known that all of Ivan's breed were dangerous. I was flabbergasted, I did not know what to say to the fellow, what argument can one use to a madman? More important still was how to get away, how to be rescued, for it was quite impossible for me to loosen the ropes that bound me. I could call for help, but no one would hear me. Still, there was always a chance that some one would; so I let out a yell that ought to have awakened the settlement.

Unfortunately it did not; and the only good I got from it was a gag, which effectively put an end to my making sufficient noise to attract attention. Luck was against me, for only a few minutes after the gag had been applied some one rapped at the door. I tried hard to make some kind of appeal for assistance, but it was futile, and I had to sit there and listen to the knocking. Presently the person, whoever it was, gave up, and with a sinking heart I heard the sound of his footsteps dying away.

The man still sat facing me, with a beastly smile on his lips; no doubt he was overjoyed to see my struggles. Presently, however, he began to speak in a low voice hardly above a whisper; and somehow that added to the horror of my position.

"I am glad I stopped your mouth in time; it would have hurt me to have finished everything before you have realised things more fully. And if my time had been cut short by any interruption from outside, your Majesty would naturally never have known all that I intend telling you, all those details which will make your journey to Paradise so pleasant.

"Have you any preference as to where I should begin? Perhaps you would like to know who I am. Well, that is soon told; I am the son of the man you had murdered, you did not know that Ivan the King had a son, did you? He had, perhaps more than one, for he was rather given to promiscuous love affairs; but only one need worry you--I shall be quite sufficient.

"I know how my father died, Prince Alexis told me; I know he was always a liar, but he told the truth about this. When I heard, I swore that you should pay for it. Since then your debt has been mounting up, for I was left destitute, and think how long that was ago, and imagine my misery all those years, having to do any manual labour that I could obtain, in order to keep from starving. You have to pay for all that.

"The most difficult thing I ever had to do was to keep my face from portraying my delight when you walked in so sweetly this evening. I have been trying to get near you for years, and at last luck has been kind to me; nothing could have worked out so well if it had been planned. To begin with, that old fool Bjornston is out for the night, out of Karena even, and the other two assistants are after their lady-loves. It is hardly likely that the two fair Karenians will allow them to return, or at any rate until our little business is over."

He stood up and moved away behind my chair, so that I could not see what he was doing; but I heard him moving about. Then he came back again, in his hands a rope, and at the end of the rope a heavy mass of stone.

"Do you see this, your Majesty, can you guess what it is for?"

I looked at it, then at him, and raising my eyebrows turned my head aside, then quickly back again. God! how lucky that he was examining the knot in the rope, for had he been looking at me he must have noticed my nervous start, a movement that I could not control, for I could have sworn that I had seen a face at the window. I shook my head from side to side, and caught another glimpse of the window, but there was no face there, and my spirits, which had gone bounding up, dropped like a stone. So, then, there was really no hope for me, there was no way out, and I was doomed to die just when life was at its fullest, just when the greatest of all my hopes was to be fulfilled. I turned sick with despair at the thought of the effect my disappearance would have upon my wife. The man was talking again:

"It will serve a good purpose, and keep you down nicely."

His cursed calmness caused the most beastly twinges of an unpleasant nature, which I can only call fear, I do not think there is anything to be ashamed of in confessing it. I was young and did not wish to die, and yet I must give no sign which would add to his delight, he must not perceive that I was frightened. I had strained at the rope which held me until I found that all my efforts seemed to make it tighter, and so I gave up and sat still to wait for death.

"I hope you have confessed yourself lately. Personally, I do not believe in a God; but your Majesty has the reputation of being devout. Perhaps you have some little message you would like to leave; if that is the case you must give me your promise not to call out, and I will remove the gag; is it to be so?"

I nodded, there might be a chance if I could talk. I could at least try to bribe him, try to ransom myself. If he were not too mad, there might be a chance. His fingers were busy and a moment later I was free to talk.

He looked at his watch. By this time Prince Zeula must be awaiting me. I wondered what he would do--and Mr. Neville? They would never give up the search for me, my body would doubtless be discovered, but what good would that do me? None whatever.

"You will observe, your Majesty, that I have given you ample time to make your peace with your God. Would it please you to give me any message to deliver? I assure you that I will be a faithful messenger."

"You are determined then to murder me?"

"A rough word, surely your Majesty means execute."

"I give you my word that your father died a natural death."

"He naturally died, you mean."

"I mean what I said."

"Then, for the first time in my life, I call a King a liar to his face; it is quite an amusing sensation."

"I am not a liar; but no matter, now listen to me. You are going to murder me----"

"Execute."

"Execute, then, if you will. What I wish to know is--how will it benefit you, will you be any the less destitute? No! whereas if you allow me to ransom myself----"

"Ransom yourself? Well, I should have to dictate the terms."

"Of course, what are they?"

"The remaining years of your life." He laughed. "Now I think that is enough; what message do you wish to send?"

"A hundred thousand pounds would make you very comfortable for the rest of your life."

"But not as comfortable as your death."

"Two hundred thousand and no questions asked, with absolute freedom."

"No terms except the ones I mentioned. Come now, the message for the Queen; it is for her, eh? Not that it is much good, because you will be able to give it to her yourself in a little while."

"What do you mean?"

"Softly, softly! That was very like a shout, and remember you gave your word; my kind thought of sending your wife to you seems to have upset you somewhat."

"You cursed devil!"

This was the final stroke, and I strained like a madman at my bonds. My head was turned away with the effort, and the window again came within my range of vision; but this time I closed my eyes, so that he could not read the hope which must have been in them. I could have shouted with the terrible exertion I had to make to avoid giving any sign, for the window, which before had been closed, was now wide open, and my old Bauen creeping through it. To this day, I cannot imagine how he had managed to open the window without betraying his presence. Another struggle, and through my half-opened eyes I saw Bauen come creeping slowly up behind. I realised that I must make as much noise as I could to hide any sound he might make, as he had only a knife, and the other his revolver.

"I will give you one minute more," I heard him say, and he began to count.

Ten--twenty--thirty--at ninety I toppled the chair over sideways, coming down with a crash, and losing sight of him. There was the sound of a terrific struggle on the other side of the table; the revolver barked three times, I felt a stinging in my leg and heard curses, the sound of blows, and moans. Then there was silence.

"Bauen, Bauen," I called.

"Your Majesty?" came the answer, to my joy.

"Are you hurt, Bauen, can you come and cut me free?"

"No, your Majesty, I cann----" There was a little sigh and then silence again.

A loud, insistent knocking at the door now drew my attention, and I raised my voice:

"Break down the door."

I lay quiet after that, and presently round the table crawled Bauen. He dragged his leg painfully, and his face was covered with blood; but he kept on until he reached my side, when he put his lips to my hand and rolled over motionless.

There was a tremendous crash, another, and the door flew open. For a moment those outside hesitated to enter, but when I called to them to cut me loose they swarmed in. Very carefully they lifted Bauen, and placed him on a settee in a corner of the studio.

The moment that I was free I gave orders for a surgeon to be sent for, also I gave orders that no one was to leave the settlement, for I did not wish any false rumour to reach the Palace.

The surgeon came almost before I could turn to see how Bauen was. A few minutes sufficed to allay my anxiety; his wounds were serious but not dangerous, and under the skilful treatment he received he recovered sufficiently to recognise me, and seeing me safe would, I knew, go a long way towards effecting his speedy recovery.

Ivan's son was dead, Bauen's knife had reached his heart. I cannot bring myself to feel the least pity for the man, he must have been bad to the core. His crime would have been carried out to a successful conclusion, had he not overlooked or forgotten one small incident. A barge had been moored up against the house to unload a big block of marble, otherwise Bauen could never have reached the window. As it was, upon obtaining no reply to his knocking, he had run along the bank of the canal and swum across to the barge, from where he could look into the room. Upon seeing my predicament, for a moment he had intended to raise the alarm, but, fearing that by doing so he might cause my instant death, he had resolved instead to try and rescue me himself, single-handed. His great fear had been that some noise would betray him; luckily for both of us it didn't, and he sprang, just as the man's finger was about to pull the trigger.

As soon as the surgeon had made Bauen comfortable, I got him to look at my own leg, and found that the ball had gone through the calf, a clean flesh wound which would heal without trouble. It had been a random shot, for the table-cloth had prevented my being seen, but it shows the terrible hatred that the man had borne me, for him to have wasted a shot on the off-chance of causing my death, and only a moment before Bauen's knife had done its work.

Directly I was bandaged, leaning on the arm of a student, I hobbled into the Palace gardens. I shall never forget the enthusiasm of the crowd--of every nationality--who had gathered in the settlement, to evince their joy at my escape; it was very nice to have the affection of all those good fellows. Luckily, I met Woolgast coming to seek me, Zeula having thought it necessary; into his hands I put the affair, but first I sent him back to the Palace to warn Zeula and others not to make a fuss when I appeared. I did not wish even the faintest hint of alarm to reach Irma's ears. This done, I fainted. It was perhaps unnecessary, but the strain of the evening had been great enough to try the nerves of a bull; I had also lost a quantity of blood.

And so it ended; the last adventure of a career which had not been an empty one. That is up to the present, for it only happened within the year in which I am writing. I think Bauen was the most honoured man in my realm for some time; before a stranger came to overthrow him, a little fellow with a lusty voice, and as Bauen never spoke much the new-comer naturally won. I may say that there were other reasons as well, one of which was that, God being willing, he would one day rule over Rudarlia.

Carruthers came to Karena for his christening; and I can remember that upon that occasion, when we all were dining together--my mother, Mr. Neville, Prince Zeula, all those whom I love--Carruthers proposed a toast:

"Victor II., the finest King Rudarlia ever had, Her Majesty Queen Irma, the finest Queen, and--er--I forget his name, but that jolly baby, the finest baby in the world."

Then Irma said quietly:

"And Bauen, who saved them all."

Now, as this was a private dinner, there was a great deal of fun at the quiet way Irma had accepted Carruthers' compliments, only Zeula and Mr. Neville refusing to be consoled, because they had not been included as the finest Prime Minister and the finest Tutor.

That I should remember this incident is in no way strange, for it was only to-day that it happened.

Now I am seated in my study, I have said good night to every one, except Woolgast, who, as usual, is on duty. Presently I shall summon him and tell him to get to his bed; it is our regular custom, every night. I say a few words to him, and then dismiss him with:

"Well, good night, General."

And he always gives the same reply:

"Good night, God bless your Majesty!"

* * * * * * * *

*JOHN LANE'S LIST OF FICTION*

BY ARTHUR H. ADAMS
A TOUCH OF FANTASY
GALAHAD JONES--A TRAGIC FARCE
GROCER GREATHEART

BY W. M. ARDAGH
THE KNIGHTLY YEARS
THE MAGADA

BY WILLIAM ARKWRIGHT
THE TREND

BY H. F. PREVOST BATTERSBY
THE LAST RESORT
THE LURE OF ROMANCE
THE SILENCE OF MEN

BY PETER BLUNDELL
LOVE-BIRDS IN THE COCO-NUTS
OH, MR. BIDGOOD
THE FINGER OF MR. BLEE

BY GERARD BENDALL
THE ILLUSIONS OF MR. & MRS. BRESSINGHAM
THE PROGRESS OF MRS. CRIPPS-MIDDLEMORE

BY PAUL BERTRAM
THE FIFTH TRUMPET
THE SHADOW OF POWER

BY ALICE BIRKHEAD
SHIFTING SANDS

BY WALTER BLOEM
THE IRON YEAR. Translated from the German by STELLA BLOCH

BY FRANCIS ADAMS
A CHILD OF THE AGE

BY SHELLAND BRADLEY
ADVENTURES OF AN A.D.C.
AN AMERICAN GIRL AT THE DURBAR
MORE ADVENTURES OF AN A.D.C.

BY GERTRUDE ATHERTON
A WHIRL ASUNDER
SENATOR NORTH
THE ARISTOCRATS
THE DOOMSWOMAN

BY EX-LIEUT. BILSE
LIFE IN A GARRISON TOWN

BY MRS. CHARLES BRYCE
MRS. VANDERSTEIN'S JEWELS
THE ASHIEL MYSTERY

BY JAMES BRYCE
THE STORY OF A PLOUGHBOY

BY WILLIAM CAINE
BILDAD THE QUILL-DRIVER
BUT SHE MEANT WELL
HOFFMAN'S CHANCE
THE IRRESISTIBLE INTRUDER

BY DANIEL CHAUCER
THE NEW HUMPTY-DUMPTY
THE SIMPLE LIFE LIMITED

BY MAUD CRUTTWELL
FIRE AND FROST

BY SIDNEY DARK
THE MAN WHO WOULD NOT BE KING

BY THEODORE DREISER
THE GENIUS
THE TITAN

BY MARION FOX
APE'S FACE
THE BOUNTIFUL HOUR

BY WILLEM DE VEER
AN EMPEROR IN THE DOCK
BATTLE ROYAL

BY CARLTON DAWE
THE REDEMPTION OF GRACE MILROY
THE SUPER-BARBARIANS

THE WORKS OF ANATOLE FRANCE IN ENGLISH

Edited by FREDERIC CHAPMAN DEMY

AT THE SIGN OF THE REINE PEDAUQUE
A Translation by Mrs. WILFRID JACKSON

BALTHASAR
A Translation by Mrs. JOHN LANE

CRAINQUEBILLE
A Translation by WINIFRED STEPHENS

JOCASTA AND THE FAMISHED CAT
A Translation by Mrs. FARLEY

MOTHER OF PEARL
A Translation by the EDITOR

MY FRIEND'S BOOK
A Translation by J. LEWIS MAY

ON LIFE AND LETTERS
A Translation by A. W. EVANS. Series I and II

PENGUIN ISLAND
A Translation by A. W. EVANS

PIERRE NOZIERE
A Translation by J. LEWIS MAY

THAIS A Translation by ROBERT B. DOUGLAS

THE AMETHYST RING
A Translation by BERENGERE DRILLIEN

THE ASPIRATIONS OF JEAN SERVIEN
A Translation by ALFRED ALLINSON

THE CRIME OF SYLVESTRE BONNARD
A Translation by LAFCADIO HEARN

THE ELM TREE ON THE MALL
A Translation by M. P. WILLCOCKS

THE GARDEN OF EPICURUS
A Translation by ALFRED ALLINSON

THE GODS ARE ATHIRST
A Translation by ALFRED ALLINSON

THE MERRIE TALES OF JACQUES TOURNEBROCHE.
A Translation by ALFRED ALLINSON

THE OPINIONS OF JEROME COIGNARD
A Translation by Mrs. WILFRID JACKSON

THE PATH OF GLORY
A Translation by A. R. ALLINSON

THE RED LILY
A Translation by WINIFRED STEPHENS

THE REVOLT OF THE ANGELS
A Translation by Mrs. WILFRID JACKSON

THE WELL OF ST. CLARE
A Translation by ALFRED ALLINSON

THE WHITE STONE
A Translation by C. E. ROCHE

THE WICKER-WORK WOMAN
A Translation by M. P. WILLCOCKS

BY EVELYN BRENTWOOD
HECTOR GRAEME
HENRY KEMPTON

BY JOHN BUCHAN
JOHN BURNET OF BARNS
SCHOLAR GIPSIES

BY G. K. CHESTERTON
THE NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL

BY A. R. GORING THOMAS
MRS. GRAMERCY PARK
THE LASS WITH THE DELICATE HAIR
THE STRONG HEART
WAYWARD FEET

BY GERALD GROGAN
A DROP IN INFINITY

BY GERALD CAMPBELL
THE JONESES AND THE ASTERISKS

BY FREDERICK BARON CORVO
IN HIS OWN IMAGE

BY VICTORIA CROSS
THE WOMAN WHO DIDN'T

BY GEORGE EGERTON
DISCORDS
KEYNOTES
SYMPHONIES

BY CYRIL HARCOURT
FIRST COUSIN TO A DREAM
THE WORLD'S DAUGHTER

BY HENRY HARLAND
COMEDIES AND ERRORS
GREY ROSES
MADEMOISELLE MISS
MY FRIEND PROSPERO
THE CARDINAL'S SNUFF BOX
THE LADY PARAMOUNT

BY FRANK HARRIS
ELDER CONKLIN
GREAT DAYS
MONTES THE MATADOR
UNPATH'D WATERS

BY E. CROSBY HEATH
HENRIETTA TAKING NOTES

BY A. C. FOX-DAVIES
THE FINANCES OF SIR JOHN KYNNERSLEY
THE MAULEVERER MURDERS

BY ELIZABETH GODFREY
THE CRADLE OF A POET

BY JOHN GORE
THE BARMECIDE'S FEAST
THE SILLY SEASON

BY HANDASYDE
FOR THE WEEK-END

BY ALICE HERBERT
GARDEN OATS
THE MEASURE OF OUR YOUTH

BY MURIEL HINE
APRIL PANHASARD
EARTH
HALF IN EARNEST
THE INDIVIDUAL
THE MAN WITH THE DOUBLE HEART

BY ADELAIDE HOLT
OUTSIDE THE ARK

BY FORD MADOX HUEFFER
THE GOOD SOLDIER

BY VIOLET HUNT and FORD MADOX HUEFFER
ZEPPELIN NIGHTS

BY KEBLE HOWARD
MERRY-ANDREW
THE GREEN FLAG

BY WILLIAM BERTAL HEENEY
PICKANOCK

BY WILFRID SCARBOROUGH JACKSON
TRIAL BY MARRIAGE

BY CECIL STARR JOHNS
VICTOR VICTORIOUS

BY MRS. JOHN LANE
ACCORDING TO MARIA
BALTHASAR AND OTHER STORIES
KITWYK
MARIA AGAIN
THE CHAMPAGNE STANDARD
TALK OF THE TOWN

BY STEPHEN LEACOCK
ARCADIAN ADVENTURES WITH THE IDLE RICH
BEHIND THE BEYOND
LITERARY LAPSES
MOONBEAMS FROM THE LARGER LUNACY
NONSENSE NOVELS
SUNSHINE SKETCHES OF A LITTLE TOWN

BY VERNON LEE
LOUIS NORBERT

BY RICHARD LE GALLIENNE
THE QUEST OF THE GOLDEN GIRL
THE ROMANCE OF ZION CHAPEL
LITTLE DINNERS WITH THE SPHINX
PAINTED SHADOWS
PROSE FANCIES
SLEEPING BEAUTY AND THE PROSE FANCIES
THE BOOK BILLS OF NARCISSUS
THE WORSHIPPER OF THE IMAGE

BY AGNES GORDON LENNOX
A GIRL'S MARRIAGE

BY WILLIAM J. LOCKE
A STUDY IN SHADOWS
AT THE GATE OF SAMARIA
DERELICTS
IDOLS
JAFFERY
SIMON THE JESTER
STELLA MARIS
THE BELOVED VAGABOND
THE DEMAGOGUE AND LADY PHAYRE
THE GLORY OF CLEMENTINA WING
THE FORTUNATE YOUTH
THE JOYOUS ADVENTURES OF ARISTIDE PUJOL
THE MORALS OF MARCUS ORDEYNE
THE WHITE DOVE
THE USURPER
WHERE LOVE IS

BY INGRAHAM LOVELL
MARGARITA'S SOUL

BY CECIL CHAMPAIN LOWIS
FASCINATION

BY LAURA BOGUE LUFFMAN
A QUESTION OF LATITUDE

BY A. NEIL LYONS
ARTHUR'S
CLARA; SOME CHAPTERS IN THE LIFE OF A HUSSY
COTTAGE PIE
KITCHENER CHAPS
MOBY LANE AND THEREABOUTS
SIMPLE SIMON
SIXPENNY PIECES

BY FREDERICK NIVEN
THE LOST CABIN MINE

BY ALLAN McAULAY
BEGGARS AND SORNERS

BY KARIN MICHAELIS
ELSIE LINDTNER A SEQUEL
THE DANGEROUS AGE
THE GOVERNOR

BY IRENE MILLER
SEKHET

BY HECTOR H. MUNRO (Saki)
BEASTS AND SUPER-BEASTS
THE CHRONICLES OF CLOVIS
THE UNBEARABLE BASSINGTON
WHEN WILLIAM CAME

BY MADGE MEARS
THE JEALOUS GODDESS