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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f949c7f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67147 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67147) diff --git a/old/67147-0.txt b/old/67147-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 9552687..0000000 --- a/old/67147-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,7247 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The King Who Went on Strike, by -Pearson Choate - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The King Who Went on Strike - -Author: Pearson Choate - -Release Date: January 11, 2022 [eBook #67147] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING WHO WENT ON -STRIKE *** - - - - - - -THE KING WHO WENT ON STRIKE - - - - - THE KING WHO - WENT ON STRIKE - - BY - - PEARSON CHOATE - - Author of "Men Limited: An Impertinence" - - "And those things do best please me - That befal preposterously." - - Puck - - "A Midsummer Night's Dream." - Act. III. Scene II. - - - - NEW YORK - DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY - 1924 - - - Copyright, 1924 - BY DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, INC. - - PRINTED IN U.S.A. - - VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC. - BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK - - - "Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has - been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried - it, and they cut the rope." - - "The French Revolution, A History." - Part I. Book VII. Chapter XI - _Thomas Carlyle_ - - - - -THE KING WHO WENT ON STRIKE - - - - -CHAPTER I - - -The King leant against the stone balustrade, which runs round the -roof of Buckingham Palace, and looked about him. All around him, -above him, and below him, the night was ablaze with a myriad lights. -Loyal Londoners, in accordance with their custom, were closing their -Coronation celebrations with illuminations, with fireworks, and with -good-humoured horse-play in the crowded streets. In spite of gloomy -predictions to the contrary, the proverbial Coronation weather of the -last day or two had not failed. A radiant June day had given place to -a wonderful June night. Here, on the palace roof, high up above the -tumult and the shouting the night air was cool and fragrant. The King -rested his elbows on the broad top of the carved stone balustrade. He -was very weary. But he was glad to be out in the open air once again. -And he was gladder still, at last, to be alone-- - -"A tall, fair, goodlooking young man, still in the early twenties, -with an open, almost boyish face": "A young man of athletic build, -clean-shaven, and very like his dead brother, the Prince, but lacking, -perhaps, something of the Prince's personal distinction, and charm": -"Thick, fair, curly hair, blue eyes, and a happy, smiling mouth": -"A typical young English naval officer, with an eager, boyish face, -unclouded, as yet, by any shadow of his high destiny"--it was in -phrases such as these that the descriptive writers in the newspapers -had described, more or less adequately, the new King's outward -appearance. What he was inwardly, what the inner man thought, and felt, -and suffered, was not within their province, or their knowledge. At the -moment, his outward appearance was completed by an easy fitting, black, -smoking jacket, plain evening dress trousers, and a pair of shabby -dancing pumps, into which he had changed immediately after the state -banquet, which had been the final ordeal of his long and exhausting -official day. It was characteristic of the inner man, about whom so -little was known, that he should have been thus impatient to throw -off the gorgeous uniform, and the many unearned decorations, which the -banquet had necessitated. It was characteristic of him, too, that he -should be bareheaded, now, and drawing absently at a pipe, which he had -forgotten to fill-- - -All the crowded events of the long, tense, and exhausting Coronation -Day which was, at last, happily at an end had seemed strangely unreal -to the King. The slow and stately progress to the Abbey in the morning, -the huge gilt state coach, the team of cream horses, the gold-coated -powdered footmen, the bodyguard of plumed Household Cavalry, the -decorated streets, the crowds, the wild cheering, the thousand faces, -the thousand eyes, his own mechanical bowing, his own mechanical smile; -the protracted, exhausting ceremony in the Abbey, the ermine-caped -peers and peeresses, the grotesque gorgeously clad officers of state, -the tall figure of the venerable Archbishop with his hands raised -in benediction, his own heavy royal robes, the Crown, the bursts of -music and of song, the pealing bells, the brilliant uniforms of the -soldiery; the streets once again, the crowds and the wild cheering, his -own mechanical bowing, his own mechanical smile, the heat, the glitter -and the glare, the tension, the thousand flushed curious faces, the -thousand eyes, the slow movement of the coach, the secret, hidden, -inward fear; the all too short rest in the afternoon, with its few -minutes of troubled, nightmare sleep; the interminable state banquet in -the evening, the gold plate, the uniforms, the colours, and the lights, -the Family, strangely subservient, the congratulations, the speeches, -the homage; the dense crowd round the palace after the banquet, his own -repeated appearance at the huge, open window above the main entrance, -the night air, the thousand eyes yet once again, the cheering, and the -lights--all these things had been unreal, unbelievable, the bewildering -phantasmagoria of a fevered dream-- - -Now, as he leant against the roof balustrade, the same sense of -unreality which had haunted him all day was still with him. - -But he compelled himself to look at the blazing illuminations, none the -less. - -A man could not afford to live, indefinitely, in a fevered dream. - -The trees in the densely thronged Mall were hung with innumerable, -coloured electric lights. A blaze of yellow, smokeless flambeaux, on -the left, marked the line of Carlton House Terrace. "God Save the -King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second"--house after house, in -the terrace, repeated the loyal prayers in glittering letters of fire. -The same devices were reproduced, in a picturesque setting of crowns -and flags, on the lavishly illuminated Admiralty Arch. Beyond was the -glare of Trafalgar Square, where the Nelson Column, pricked out in -red, white, and blue lamps, soared aloft, a shaft of vivid colours -against the dark blue of the night sky. Further away, on the right, -the familiar, luminous clock face of Big Ben, which showed that it -was already nearing midnight, shone out, brightly, above the golden -brilliance of Whitehall. Westminster Abbey towers were touched with -fire. Queen Anne's Mansion was a broad, solid wedge of blazing, various -colour. Up and down the square tower of the Westminster Cathedral ran -a hand of flame, writing a loyal motto, in crabbed, monkish Latin, -difficult to translate. On the left, beyond the Green Park, shone the -lights of Piccadilly, where the fronts of the clubs vied in patriotic -radiance. From the Green Park itself, and from Hyde Park, in the -distance, soared rockets, which burst into clusters of red, white, -and blue stars, and showers of multi-coloured rain. The cheers of the -crowds, in the parks, and in the streets, rose with the rockets, in a -regular, muffled roar. Overhead, above the lights, above the rockets, a -score or more of illuminated aeroplanes hummed, diving, nose-spinning, -side-slipping, and looping the loop, with the agility, the grace, and -the breathless swiftness of the aerial acrobats who know not fear. - -"God Save the King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second." - -The mere repetition of the blazing words impressed them upon the King's -notice. - -Their irony was his second thought. - -Did the people know, the cheering people, far down below there, in the -crowded parks, and illuminated streets, that, stereotyped formulae as -they were, there was real need, now, for those prayers? - -And, if they did know, would they care? - -Save him from his enemies? - -Perhaps. Almost certainly. - -But from himself--an unwilling King? - -A light, night breeze from the west, blew softly across the palace -roof, rustling the silken folds of the Royal Standard, as it hung -limply against the fifty-foot flagstaff, immediately above the King's -head. With the quick, subconscious instinct of the trained sailor, he -looked up to see if the flag was in order. To be "a sailor, not a -Prince" had been, for years, his publicly avowed ambition, an ambition -which had only recently been thwarted. His interest in this, no doubt, -trivial matter of a flag was typical of the lasting impression which -his long and happy years of naval service had left upon his character. -In most things, small and great, the Navy had taught him, the Navy had -formed him. - -The flag was correct. The very knots in the rope left no loophole for -criticism. - -The small, gilt Royal Crown, which normally surmounted the -flagstaff had been removed. In its place a large crown of coloured, -electric lamps had been erected, as a finishing touch to the palace -illuminations. Above the lights of this crown, the pointed shaft of the -lightning conductor, which ran up the flagstaff, protruded, clearly -visible against the night sky. - -The lightning conductor had been left in position. - -A slow smile lit up the King's face, and something of his weariness -fell from him, as he saw the pointed shaft of the lightning conductor. - -Here, at last, was reality, presented, paradoxically enough, in the -form of an allegory, a symbol. - -The words of the old Duke of Northborough came back to the King. - -At the close of one of the earliest of the many, long, informal talks, -in the course of which the old Duke had set himself to explain to the -young and inexperienced Prince, who had been called, so unexpectedly, -to the throne, a few of the more urgent problems of Government, the -King had brought the veteran Prime Minister up on to the palace roof, -to see the new roof garden, which was the only innovation he had made, -so far, in the palace arrangements, an innovation due to his pleasant -recollection of nights of shore leave spent in the roof gardens of New -York, during his service with the Atlantic Fleet. The old Duke had -admired the flowers, and approved the tubbed trees; then he had looked -up at the flagstaff, where the Royal Standard had been flying in a -noble breeze; the juxtaposition of the pointed shaft of the lightning -conductor, and the Royal Crown, at the top of the flagstaff, had caught -his eye; and he had called the King's attention to it, at once, with an -arresting gesture. - -"It is an allegory, a symbol, sir," he had said, in his vivid, forceful -way. "You wear the Crown. I am the lightning conductor. It will be my -duty, and the honour of my life, when the storm breaks, to take the -full shock of the lightning flash, so that the Crown may remain on your -head, unshaken." - -There had been no need for the King to ask of what impending storm -the old Duke spoke. From the first, in all his talk, the increasing -menace of the world-wide revolutionary conspiracy had been the veteran -statesman's most constant theme. - -"In your grandfather's time revolution in England was impossible, sir. -In your father's time it was possible, but unthinkable. If your brother -had lived, it might have remained unthinkable for years, perhaps for -the whole of his reign." "Like your father, your brother had the secret -of arousing personal loyalty. The Prince smiled, and men and women -loved him. For years he had been preparing himself, and consolidating -his hold on the people, making ready for the struggle which he saw he -must come." "It is not for me to disguise from you, sir, that your -brother's death has given a new impetus to the revolutionary movement -in this country. A younger son, a Prince who never expected, who -was never expected, to reign--against you, sir, the international -revolutionary forces feel that they have their first real chance in -England. The Internationalists, and the Communists, on the Continent, -and the extremists amongst our own Labour leaders, are likely to effect -a working agreement. It is necessary that we should remember, that it -has been by such agreements, that Europe has been swept almost clear of -Kings, from end to end." "We must be prepared. We are prepared. But it -is of vital importance that you, sir, should understand the position. -Make no mistake, sir. They would haul down your Royal Standard, from -the flagstaff here, sir, and run up their pitiable rag of a Red Flag, -in its place." - -A new understanding of the difficulties that his father had faced, -of the heavy burden that he had borne, for so many years, without -complaint, had come to the King, in recent weeks. More poignant -still was the new understanding of, and the new sympathy with, his -dead brother, the Prince, that the last few weeks had brought him. -His father had always been remote. Between him, and his brother, the -Prince, there had been real friendship, and familiar, easy intercourse, -in spite of the Prince's splendid future, in spite of his own frequent -absences at sea. But he had not known. He had not understood. With a -sailor's contemptuous impatience in such matters, he had always turned -an almost deaf ear to the Prince's talk of politics and parties. The -Prince's splendid future! And he stood now, in the Prince's place. - -It was the Prince who had urged him to trust, and to listen to, the old -Duke. - -Once again, the King stood by the bed, in his brother's room, late in -the afternoon of the day, when the disease, which had stricken the -Prince so inexplicably, within a few weeks of their father's death, had -done its worst, and it was known that he, too, must die, die, after -all, uncrowned. - -Deathly white the Prince lay there, propped up in bed, with his eyes -closed. - -Outside the sun was setting, and the London sparrows were twittering -their vesper hymn. - -The blue uniformed nurse bent down over the bed, and spoke in the -Prince's ear. - -The Prince opened his eyes, saw him, recognized him, and smiled. - -"They tell me that I have got 'the route' Alfred," he whispered -painfully. "I am not afraid to die. But I would live if I could. I -know, no one knows as I know, what this will mean to you. They tell me -I mustn't talk. I can't talk. - -"The Duke is your man. Trust the Duke! He will not fail you. He will -be your sheet anchor. With the Duke to steady the ship, you will ride -out the storm." - -An hour later, the Prince lay dead. - -The King flung up his head. - -The Duke had not failed him. - -Many men had mourned the Prince's death, but no man had mourned it, as -had the veteran Prime Minister. Between the Duke and the Prince, it -was notorious, there had been a friendship, a constant association, -personal and political, closer than that between many a father and son. -Politically, the Prince's death must have been a staggering blow to -the Duke. And yet the wonderful old man had never faltered. Early and -late, he had laboured, with inexhaustible patience, at times with a -surprising freedom, and yet always with a tact which made his freedom -possible, to place his unrivalled knowledge, and his ripe wisdom, -untouched by party spirit, at the service of a new, a young, and an -inexperienced King. - -The King was not ungrateful. - -Still leaning wearily as he was against the roof balustrade, he turned -now, as he thought of the old Duke, and looked across the shadowed -darkness of St. James's Park, at the golden glare thrown up by the -illuminations in Whitehall. There, in the silent, rather comfortless, -and closed in house, in Downing Street, where he had lived, with hardly -a break, for so many years, his father's minister, his brother's -friend, the old Duke, even now, as likely as not, was hard at work, -indomitable, tireless, resourceful, sparing neither himself, nor his -subordinates, so that he, the King, "a sailor, not a Prince," might -reign. - -Yes. The lightning conductor was in position. - -He, the man who wore the Crown, must not fail. - -He must not fail the Duke. - -It was odd, but the thought that he might fail to support the Duke, -that he might not come up to the standard which the Duke might set for -him, had more weight with him, than any thought of the people, of the -nation. It was an instance of the Duke's personal magnetism, of course. -His personal magnetism, his dominance, had been talked about for years. -Did the Duke dominate him? No. But the Duke was a living, forceful -personality, a man, a strong man. The people, the nation--well, they -were only phantoms; they were the thousand, flushed, curious faces; -the thousand eyes; the cheering crowds, far away down there, in the -darkness, in the crowded parks and illuminated streets below. - -It was, in a sense, a triumph, or at least, a notable success, for -the Duke, that he, the King, had been crowned; that the day had -passed without hostile demonstrations, without a single regrettable -incident. What reward could he give, what return could he make, to the -old statesman, for his ungrudging, tireless service? The Duke was his -servant. In intimate, familiar talk, he never failed to call him "sir." -The Duke must be his friend. His friend? A King could have no friends. -A man apart, isolated, lonely, and remote, as his father had always -been, a King was condemned to live alone. - -A sudden, unbearable sense of loneliness, a terror of himself, a terror -of this new, isolated, remote life, in which he was to be denied even -the poor palliative of friendship, swept over the King. He had longed -to be alone. He had come up, out here, on to the palace roof, to be -alone. He had been eager to escape from the curious faces, from the -thousand eyes. But now he longed for human companionship, for human -sympathy, for human hands. - -"Judith!" - -The name rose to the King's lips, unsought, unbidden. - -Judith, tall and slender, with her deep, dark, mysterious eyes, and -her crown of jet black hair; Judith, with her cheeks flushed with -pleasure, her eyes aglow, and her hand stretched out to him in joyous -welcome--the King saw, and felt, her bodily presence, as in a vision, -and his loneliness, and his terror, his weariness, and his fever, fell -from him. - -He must go to Judith. - -It would be dangerous. It was always dangerous. It would be more -dangerous, tonight, than ever before. But he would go. He must go. All -day he had smiled, and bowed, and posed, for the multitude, playing his -part in the gorgeous, public pageantry, which the multitude loved, an -actor playing his part, an actor, the servant of the public. Surely, -now, he might wrest a few brief hours, from the night, for himself? - -It was a long time, a week or more, since he had seen Judith. - -A few brief hours with Judith, a few brief hours of rest, of rural -peace, and quiet talk; a romp with the Imps, who would be fast asleep -now, tucked up in their cots, each clutching some cherished toy, some -strange, woolly animal, or some dearly prized, deadly instrument of -mimic war, but who would awake, with their prattle, like the birds, at -dawn; a few minutes of Uncle Bond's diverting nonsense, about the next -instalment of his forthcoming serial, and the dire distresses he had -invented for his latest business girl heroine--a few brief hours, so -spent, would bring him back to the palace, refreshed and strengthened, -ready to shoulder, once again, the heavy burden of his isolation, the -heavy burden which seemed now too heavy to be borne. - -Yes. Late as it was, he would go to Judith. A night visit? It would be -after one o'clock in the morning, when he arrived. Would Judith mind? -Surely not! Judith and he were outside conventions. - -With the quick, impulsive movement of the man who puts an end to -hesitation, the King swung round from the stone balustrade, crossed the -roof, and so passed, without another glance at the blazing Coronation -illuminations, or at the night sky, down the broad, wrought-iron -staircase which led from the roof into the palace. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - -In the anteroom to his own newly decorated suite of rooms, the King -found two of his valets still on duty. One of them was Smith, the -rubicund, grizzled old sailor, who had been his servant in the Navy. -Dismissing the other man with a gesture, the King beckoned to Smith, -and entered his dressing room. - -"I do not want to be disturbed, in the morning, until I ring my bell, -Smith," he announced. "I shall probably go out into the garden for a -breath of fresh air, last thing. See that the door into the garden is -left open. That is all now. Good-night." - -Smith withdrew, at once, with the bob of his bullet-shaped head, which -was the nearest approach he could make to the bow required by etiquette. - -Left alone, the King glanced round the dressing room. - -Of all the rooms in the palace which he used habitually, this room had -become the most distasteful to the King. The massive, old-fashioned, -mahogany furniture, the heavy curtains drawn right across the windows, -the thick-piled carpet, and the softly shaded lights, in the room, -oppressed him, not so much because of what they were in themselves, as -because of what they were associated with, already, in his own mind. -It was here that he dressed for Court functions. It was here that -he dressed, three or four times a day, not for his own pleasure and -convenience, but "suitably for the occasion." - -A masculine doll. A male mannequin. A popinjay. - -But he was going to dress to please himself, now, anyway. - -Moving swiftly about the room, he proceeded to ransack drawers, and to -fling open wardrobe doors, as he searched for a particular blue serge -suit, of which the Royal staff of valets strongly disapproved. - -At last he found the suit he sought. - -A few minutes later, he had effected, unaided, a complete change of -toilet. - -The blue serge suit, instinct with the Navy style that was so much -to his mind, together with the grey felt hat, and the light dust -coat, which he selected, made an odd, and subtle, difference in his -appearance. Before, even in the easy undress of his smoking jacket, he -had been--the King. Now he was, in every detail, merely a young naval -officer in mufti, rejoicing in shore leave. - -Looking at himself in the huge, full-length mirror which stood -immediately in front of the heavily curtained windows, the King -approved this result. - -The young naval officer in mufti, who looked back at the King out -of the cunningly lighted mirror, tall, fair, and clean-shaven, had -retained much of the unconscious pride of youth. The face was, as yet, -only lightly marked by the lines, the thoughtful frown, and the dark -shadows, which are the insignia of a heavier burden, of a greater -responsibility, and of a more constant anxiety, and care, than any -known at sea. The mouth and chin were pronounced and firm, moulded by -the habit of command. The lips were a trifle full, and not untouched -by passion. A student of that facial character, which all men, princes -and peasants alike, must carry about with them, wherever they go, would -have said that this young man had a will of his own, which might be -expressed by rash and impetuous action. The brow was broad and high. -This was a young man capable of thought, and of emotion. Something of -the healthy tan, which long exposure to wind and weather leaves, still -lingered on the cheeks, but a slight puffiness under the tired blue -eyes, told of weariness, and of flagging physical condition. - -"A breath of Judith's country air will certainly do me good. It will -freshen me up," the King muttered. - -Swinging round from the mirror, he crossed the room, to the door, and -switched off all the lights. Then he opened the door. The long corridor -outside, which led from his suite of rooms to the central landing, -and so to the main staircase in the palace, was still brilliantly -lit. Closing the dressing room door behind him, the King slipped -quickly down the corridor. Avoiding the central landing, and the main -staircase, which lay to his right, he turned to the left, up a short -passage, which brought him to the head of a private staircase, which -was strictly reserved for his personal use. This staircase led down to -the ground floor of the palace, and ended in a small, palm and orange -tree decorated lounge, half vestibule, and half conservatory, which had -been a favourite retreat of his father. A glass door opened out of the -lounge into the palace garden. This door, as he had directed, had been -left open. Quickly descending the staircase, the King passed through -the lounge, out by the open door, into the garden. - -A sharp glance, first to the right, and then to the left, assured -him that he was unobserved. By his order, the posts of the military -guard, and the beats of the police, on duty round the palace, had been -altered recently, so that he could use this door untrammelled by their -compliments. An unmistakable impatience with even necessary observation -of his personal movements had already become known as one of the new -King's most pronounced characteristics, and the military, and the -police authorities, alike, had done their best to meet his wishes in -the matter, although his wishes had added greatly to their difficulties. - -The palace garden was full of the fragrance of the wonderful summer -night. The west breeze blew softly along the paths, and rustled amongst -the innumerable leaves of the overhanging trees. A few minutes of brisk -walking led the King through the darkness of the shrubberies, across -the deserted lawns, and past the shining, light-reflecting water of the -lake, to the boundary wall at the far end of the garden. - -A small, old, and formerly little used wooden door in this wall was his -objective. - -Lately, by his order, this door had been repainted, and fitted with -a new lock. One or two members of the palace household staff were -housed in Lower Grosvenor Place, the thoroughfare on to which the -wall abutted. It was, ostensibly, in order that these trustworthy and -discreet members of the household staff might be able to pass in and -out of the door, unchallenged, and so use the short cut through the -garden to the palace, that the King had considerately directed that -the lock on the door should be renewed, and that new keys should be -distributed. - -It was one of these new keys which he now produced from his own pocket, -and, after a hurried glance behind him to assure himself that he was -still unobserved, fitted into the lock. - -The lock worked smoothly. - -The door opened inwards. - -The King stepped out on to the pavement of Lower Grosvenor Place. - -The door, operated by a spring, closed silently behind him. - -Lower Grosvenor Place, normally a quiet and deserted thoroughfare -was, tonight, for once, thronged with people. A cheering, singing -rollicking crowd, the backwash of the larger crowds, which had been -attracted to the palace, and to the display of fireworks in the parks, -had taken possession of the roadway. For a moment, the noise of the -crowd, and the lights of the street, coming so abruptly after the -silence, and the secluded darkness of the garden, disconcerted the -King. Next moment, smiling a little at the thought of his own bizarre -position, he darted into the crowd, and began to work his way across -the road. - -Inevitably jostled, and pushed, by the crowd, he made slow progress. - -Suddenly, his progress was arrested altogether. - -A little company of West End revellers, half a dozen youthful dandies -from the clubs, and as many daringly dressed women, who were moving -down the centre of the road, with their arms linked, singing at the top -of their voices, deliberately intercepted him, and circling swiftly -round him, held him prisoner. - -"Where are your colours, old man?" one of the women demanded, in -an affected, provocative drawl. She was young, and, in spite of -her artificial complexion, and dyed eyebrows, she still retained a -suggestion of prettiness, and even of freshness. "Here! This is what -you want!" - -As she spoke, she caught hold of the lapel of the King's coat, and -pinned to it a large rosette of red, white, and blue ribbons. - -"There! That looks better," she declared. "You don't want people -to think you're one of these Communist cads, and in favour of a -revolution, do you?" - -The King laughed merrily. - -That he, the King, should be suspected of being in favour of revolution -struck him as irresistibly absurd. Then the second thought which is -so often nearer to the truth than the first, supervened. After all, -was the idea so absurd? Was he not--an unwilling King? Had he not been -increasingly conscious, of late, of a thought lurking at the back of -his mind, that he, of all men, had, perhaps, least to lose, and most -to gain, in the welter and chaos of revolution? What would he lose? -The intolerable burden of his isolation: the responsibility, and the -exacting demands of the great position, into which he had been thrust -so unexpectedly, and so much against his will. What would he gain? -Liberty, Equality, Fraternity! The revolutionary slogan voiced his own -personal needs. His laughter died away. - -Happily, a precocious, fair-haired youth, who was leaning on the -shoulder of the rosette-distributing girl, broke the awkward little -silence which ensued. - -"Chuck it, Doris! Can't you see he's one of us?" he remarked. "He's got -Navy written all over him." - -And he nodded to the King, as to a brother officer. - -"Mind your own business, Bobbie, and I'll mind mine," Doris drawled, -unperturbed. "He's a nice boy, but he'd forgotten his rosette. No man, -who isn't wearing the right colours, is going to pass me by, tonight, -unchallenged." - -The King pulled himself together with an effort. - -"But now that I am wearing the right colours, you will let me pass?" he -suggested. "I am in rather a hurry." - -Bobbie promptly dragged the laughing and protesting Doris to one side, -and so left the road clear for the King. - -"Pass, friend!" Bobbie announced. "All's well!" - -The King dived hastily, once again, into the crowd. A sudden, and -curiously belated, fear of recognition, here in the immediate vicinity -of the palace, lent wings to his feet. No doubt the reckless audacity -of his excursion almost precluded the possibility of recognition. And -yet thousands of these people had seen him, at close quarters, only a -few hours ago. - -So they knew about the impending storm, and they were already taking -sides. He looked at the rollicking crowd which surged about him, now, -with new interest. Red, white, and blue rosettes, similar to the one -which was pinned to his own coat, were being worn everywhere. The right -colours appeared to be popular. In the elaborate, secret, protective -schemes, lettered for code purposes, in the Greek alphabet, from Alpha -to Gamma, which the old Duke of Northborough had laid before him, to -demonstrate the Cabinet's readiness for every eventuality, the loyalty -of the people had no place. Might not that loyalty render the old -Duke's schemes unnecessary? But the old Duke wanted, he seemed almost -anxious, to force a fight. And the old Duke was, of course, right. - -By this time, the King had succeeded in working his way across the -road. He turned now, mechanically to his left, down a quiet, side -street, which ended in a cul-de-sac, but afforded, on the right, an -entrance to one of those odd, shut in havens of coach-houses and -stables, which are to be found all over the West End of London, tucked -away behind the great houses, from which they usually take their -directory title, with the addition of that admirably significant word, -mews. Here, in a small, lock-up garage, which he had contrived to rent -in the name of a youthful member of his personal, secretarial staff, -the King kept a two-seated, powerfully engined, motor car. Geoffrey -Blunt, the nominal tenant of the garage, a light-hearted but discreet, -cadet of a good house, had also lent his name for the purchase of the -car. In recognition of Blunt's complaisance in the matter, the King had -allowed him to accompany him in one or two harmless Caliph Haroun Al -Raschid night interludes, in which the car had figured; but Blunt, as -Vizier, had no idea that the King, his Caliph, used the car, as now, -for solitary excursions. - -The police constable on the beat happened to be testing, with -his bull's-eye lantern in action, the fastenings of the adjacent -coach-houses and stables, in the dimly lit mews, when the King arrived -at the garage. Recognizing in the King, as he thought, a resident in -one of the neighbouring houses, the constable saluted him respectfully, -and helped him to open the garage doors, and run out the car. - -"You'll find the traffic difficult tonight, sir, I'm thinking," he -remarked, with a hint of a London tamed Irish brogue. "They turned -the people out of the parks, when the fireworks finished, a full half -hour ago, but, bless you, they are in no hurry to go home. Well, it's -one night in a lifetime, as you might say, isn't it, sir? And, beyond -holding up the traffic, there's no harm in the people--they're just -lively, that's all. There'll be a good many of them will lie in late, -when they do get to bed, in the morning, I'm thinking. But the tiredest -man, in all London, this night, and in the whole Empire, too, if it -comes to that, I should think must be the King himself, God bless -him! Did you get a good view of him, yourself, sir? I was in duty in -Whitehall for the procession, and barring a yard or two, I was as close -to him then, as I am, now, to you. As fine, and upstanding a young -fellow, as you could wish to see, he is, too, and as like his poor dead -brother, the Prince, God rest his soul! as two peas. But he looked -tired, I thought. I hope they won't work him too hard, at first. He's -only a young man still, and he's got his troubles before him, they say, -although to look at the people, tonight, you wouldn't think so, would -you? But give him his chance, and he'll do as well as his brother, -the Prince, I say, for all that he's a sailor. I'm an old Guardsman, -myself, sir, the same as the Prince was, but, after all, it's time you -had your turn, in the Senior Service, isn't it, sir?" - -Busy putting on the thick leather motor coat, and adjusting the -goggles, which he kept stored in the car, the King listened to the -constable's garrulous, friendly talk with rich amusement, not untouched -by a more serious interest. He almost wished that he could reveal -his real identity to the man, and then shake hands with him. Surely -the loyalty of the people had been underestimated? This garrulous -police constable had a juster appreciation, and a more sympathetic -understanding, of the difficulties and the dangers of his position, -than he had ever imagined possible. - -With the constable's assistance the King closed, and re-locked the -garage doors. Then he slipped a handful of loose silver into the man's -not too ready palm, and sprang up into his seat at the steering wheel -of the car. - -"Liquidate that in drinking to the King's health, constable," he -directed, as he started the car. "Drink it to the frustration of all -the King's enemies." - -All the King's enemies? His worst enemy? Himself? - -The man's reply was drowned by the throbbing beat of the powerful -engine. - -A moment later, the car leapt forward, out of the dimly lit mews, -swung up the quiet side street, beyond, and so passed into the densely -thronged roadway in Lower Grosvenor Place. - -The police constable's prediction as to the difficulties of the traffic -proved more than justified. In Grosvenor Place, the King found that he -could only advance at a snail's pace, sounding his siren continuously. -Over and over again, he had hurriedly to apply all his brakes. The -crowd, singing, cheering, and rollicking, had taken complete possession -of the roadway, and ignored the approach of all vehicles of whatsoever -kind. Fellow motorists, in like case with himself, grinned at the -King, in friendly, mutual commiseration. For his part, it was with -difficulty, that he restrained his impatience, and kept his temper. He -was still far too close to the palace for his peace of mind. - -At Hyde Park Corner, the police, mounted and on foot, had contrived -to maintain a narrow fairway, which made real, although still slow, -progress through the locked traffic possible. But in Park Lane, the -crowd had it all their own way again, spread out across the road, and -indulging in rough horse-play, as nearly out of hand as the London -crowd ever permits itself to go. Happily, by the Marble Arch, the -road cleared once more. In Oxford Street, in spite of the brilliant -illuminations of the famous shops and stores, and the huge crowds -which they had attracted there, the King found that he could slightly -increase his speed. When he swung, at last, into Tottenham Court Road, -and so headed the car directly north, the traffic, by comparison with -that through which he had just passed, seemed almost normal. Free now -from the necessity of extra vigilance, and only occasionally called -upon to sound his siren, or to apply his brakes, he was able to open -out the car considerably, and settle himself more comfortably at the -steering wheel. - - - - -CHAPTER III - - -It was a wonderful summer night. Here, as the car ran out into the -quieter, less crowded, and more humbly illuminated area of the inner -suburbs, the night reasserted itself. Rising late, above the roofs and -twisted chimney pots, a large, round, golden moon hung low in the dark -blue sky. The rush of air, stirred by the throbbing car, was cool and -fresh. Naturally, and inevitably, the King's thoughts turned now, once -again, to Judith. - -It was on just such a wonderful summer night, as this, in early June, a -year ago, that he had first seen Judith. - -On that memorable night, the King had driven alone, out of London, -late at night, just as he was driving now, at the end of a fortnight's -leave, which he had spent incognito, in town. Soon after he had run -through the fringe of the outer suburbs, which he was even then -entering, with four hundred odd miles of road between him and the Naval -Base in Scotland, where he was due to rejoin his ship, and with barely -time to make them good, the car he was driving had developed engine -trouble. A few minutes of frenzied tinkering had set the car going -again, but the engine had only served to carry him well clear of the -town, out into the sleeping countryside, when it had failed, once more, -this time completely, and he had found himself stranded, at the side of -the lonely, deserted, country road, the victim of a permanent breakdown. - -The King smiled to himself, now, as he recalled his reckless, humorous -appreciation of that situation. In those days, "a sailor, not a -Prince," he had had a light heart. Nothing had been able to disturb his -equanimity for long. - -Abandoning the broken down car, almost at once, at the side of the -road, he had set out, adventurously, on foot, to look for succour. -The night had been, then, as now, cool, fragrant, and moonlit. -Soon a narrow, winding, wooded lane, on the left of the road, had -attracted him. Turning down this lane, he had followed its twisting, -tree-shadowed course, for over a mile or more, until, suddenly, he -had come upon the small lodge, and open carriage gate, of an isolated -country house, which stood, a little back from the road, surrounded by -tall trees. - -The short, moonlit drive, where the rhododendron bushes and the -laburnum trees were in full blossom, had led him to the front of the -silent, darkened house. - -The King remembered vividly the odd sense of impending romance, the -little thrill of excitement, and of expectancy, with which he had rung -the front door bell. - -A short pause had ensued, a period of waiting. - -And then he had heard a movement on his right, and he had turned, and -he had seen Judith--seen Judith, for the first time. - -She had slipped through the open window door, on his right, on to the -verandah, which ran all round the shadowy house, and she had stood -there, close beside him, tall and slender, surrounded by the ghostly -white blossoms of the clematis creeper, which covered the verandah -pillars and rail--Judith with her cheeks delicately flushed, her deep, -dark, mysterious eyes aglow, and her wealth of jet black hair knotted -loosely at her neck, Judith clad in a Japanese kimono of gorgeous -colours, from under which peeped little wisps of spotless white linen, -and filmy lace. - -The King laughed softly to himself, as he recalled that it was he, -and not Judith, who had been shy and embarrassed, that it was he, and -not Judith, who had blushed and stammered--until Judith had come to -his rescue, understanding and accepting his incoherent apologies and -explanations, almost before he had uttered them, and taking absolute -command of him, and of the whole delightfully bizarre situation from -that moment-- - -The necessity of avoiding a couple of belated country carts, moving -slowly forward towards Covent Garden, at this point, broke abruptly -into the King's reverie. The powerfully engined car was running -smoothly, and at a high speed now, along the level surface of one of -the outer suburban tramway tracks-- - -It was Judith who had promptly roused old Jevons, the gardener, and -sent him off, post haste, to take charge of the derelict car. It was -Judith who, greatly daring, had penetrated into the jealously guarded, -literary night seclusion of Uncle Bond, on the upper floor of the -silent, darkened house, and had compelled the little man to leave his -latest business girl heroine, in the middle of the next instalment -of his new serial, although that instalment was, as usual, already -overdue, and come downstairs, urbane and chuckling, his round, -double-chinned, and spectacled face wreathed in smiles, to entertain an -unknown, and youthful stranger, as if his midnight intrusion was the -most natural thing in the world. - -It was Judith, familiar with the way that they have in the Navy, who -had understood, from the first, the vital necessity of his rejoining -his ship in time. It was Judith who had routed out time-tables, and -looked up trains, while he and Uncle Bond had smoked and discussed the -situation at large, and had discovered that he still might be able to -catch the Scottish Mail, at some railway junction in the Midlands, of -which he had never heard. - -It was Judith who had packed off the at once enthusiastic Uncle Bond -to the garage to turn out his own brand new Daimler. It was Judith who -had insisted that they must make a hurried, and informal, but wholly -delightful picnic meal. It was Judith who had slipped out, while Uncle -Bond and he ate and drank, and put his kit, which the careful Jevons -had brought from the broken down car to the house for safe custody, -into the Daimler. Finally, it was Judith who had given them their -marching orders, and their route, and had stood on the verandah, and -waved her hand to them, in friendly farewell, when Uncle Bond had -started the Daimler, and the huge car had swept down the drive, out -into the sleeping countryside. - -Of the wild drive that had followed, half way across England, through -the wonderful summer night, the King had now, as he had had at the -time, only a hazy, confused impression--a hazy, confused impression -of Uncle Bond, at his side, crouched over the steering wheel of the -huge Daimler, driving with a reckless audacity more suited to the -commander of a destroyer, or of a submarine, than to a mere retailer -of grotesquely improbable tales, of Uncle Bond talking incessantly as -he drove, and chuckling delightedly, as he gave a free rein to the -fantastic flights of his characteristically extravagant humour. - -Where, and when, he had caught the night mail, the King had still no -clear idea. A blurred vision of Uncle Bond, racing at his side, down a -long, dimly lit railway platform, and throwing his last portmanteau in, -after him, through the window of the already moving train, was all that -remained with him, of the scene at the station. - -And then the train had thundered on, through the sleeping countryside, -and he had been alone, at last, in the darkness, in the darkness in -which, for hours, he had seen only Judith's beautiful, vivid face, -while the train had thundered in his ears, only Judith's name-- - -By this time, the powerfully engined car had run clear of the outer -suburban tramway track, and was rushing through the semi-rural area -of market gardens, and scattered villas, where the town first meets, -and mingles with, the country, on the north side of London. Coronation -illuminations had now been left far behind. Soon even the last of the -long chain of lamps provided by the public lighting system was passed. -It was by the light thrown on to the road, by the glaring headlights on -the throbbing car, and by the softer light of the moon, that the King -had now to do his driving-- - -From the first he had known that Judith, and Uncle Bond, could never -be as other people to him. It was this knowledge which had warned him -not to betray his real identity. From the first, it had seemed of -vital importance to him, that no shadow of his Royal rank should be -allowed to mar the delightful spontaneity of his intercourse with these -charming, unconventional people, who, looking upon him as merely a -young, naval officer in trouble, had at once placed all their resources -at his disposal, as if he had been an old and intimate friend. It was -this knowledge which had prompted him, when he came to telegraph to -Uncle Bond, to report his successful rejoining of his ship, to sign the -telegram with his favourite incognito name, Alfred York. That he should -have been in a position to telegraph to Uncle Bond was only one of the -many lesser miracles of that wholly miraculous night. At some point -in their wild drive, Uncle Bond had slipped his visiting card into -his hand, and had contrived to make him understand, in spite of his -dreamlike abstraction, that, while he was known to his admiring public -as "Cynthia St. Claire," the notorious serial writer, he was known to -his friends as plain James Bond, and that he, and his niece Judith, -would be glad to hear that he had escaped a court-martial. - -Looking back at it all, now, with the wonder that never failed him -when he thought of Judith, it seemed to the King that the miracles -of that first memorable night, twelve months ago, had merely been -the prelude to a whole sequence of other, and far greater, miracles. -When leave came his way once again, it had seemed only natural to him -that he should run out to see Judith and Uncle Bond, to thank them -for their kindness which had included the salving, and the temporary -storing of the derelict car. But that Judith and Uncle Bond should have -welcomed him so warmly, and pressed him to repeat his visit, whenever -he happened to be passing through town, that had been--a miracle! -Again, it was only natural that he should have taken advantage of their -invitation, and that he should have fallen into the habit of running -out to see them, whenever he could snatch a few brief hours from the -exacting demands of his semi-official life. But that Judith, and Uncle -Bond, should have thrown open their house to him, so soon, without -question, and made their home, his home, that had been--a miracle! -That he should have been able to keep his frequent visits to, and his -increasing intimacy with, Judith and Uncle Bond a secret, for nearly -twelve months, was a miracle. That in all that time, Judith and Uncle -Bond should never have suspected his real identity, never penetrated -his incognito, was a greater miracle. But that his friendship with -Judith should have remained unspoilt, innocent, that was the greatest -miracle of all. - -It was Judith who had wrought this last, greatest miracle of all. It -was Judith who had made their friendship what it was. Somehow, from -the first, she seemed to have been able to shut out, or, at the worst, -to ward off, from their intimacy, all dangerous provocations. It was -as if she had drawn a white line round herself, even in her thoughts, -past which neither he, nor she, could enter. Uncle Bond, most wise and -tactful of hosts, had helped. And the Imps, Judith's boys, had helped -too. - -Somehow, Judith and the Imps, Button, so called because of his button -mouth, and Bill, cherubic and chubby, had always been inseparably -associated in his mind. Almost from the first, he must have known that -Judith, young as she was, was a widow. But it was only lately that he -had learnt that her husband had been a sailor like himself, a sailor -who had served with distinction, and lost his life, in the Pacific War, -the war which he had missed himself, to his own everlasting regret, by -a few bare weeks of juniority-- - -By this time, the throbbing car was sweeping down the opening stretch -of the Great North Road, out into the real country. More as a matter -of custom, than of conscious thought, the King slowed down the car. It -had become his habit on these occasions, that he should slacken his -speed, when he had at last successfully escaped from the town, so that -he could attune his mind to his surroundings, and savour to the full -his eager anticipation of Judith's joyous welcome. - -Suddenly, the ghostly, white painted figure of a signpost, for which he -always kept an eye open, flashed into his view, on the left of the road. - -Once, on a winter evening of fog-thickened darkness, when he had been -driving out to see Judith, as he was driving now, the King had grown -uncertain of his route. Coming to this signpost, he had been glad to -halt, to verify his position. Clambering up the post, with the ready -agility of the sailor, he had struck a match, to discover that the -signpost had been used, by some unknown humorist, to perpetrate a jest, -with which he had found himself in instant, serious, and wholehearted -sympathy. The ordinary place names had been obliterated on the signpost -fingers. In lieu of them had been painted, in rude, black letters, on -the finger pointing to London, "To Hades," and, on the opposite finger, -pointing north, out into the open country, "To Paradise." - -The King headed the car now "To Paradise," with an uplifting of the -heart, which never failed him, on this portion of the road. - -A little later, he became aware that he was passing the site of his -former breakdown, the breakdown which had first led him, a year ago, to -Judith. - -He knew then that he had run out of Middlesex into Hertfordshire. - -Soon the familiar turning of the narrow, tree shadowed lane, on the -left of the road, came into view. Swinging the car into the lane, the -King, once again, slackened his speed. He drove now with special care. -It had become part of a charming game, that he and Judith played, that -he should try to drive down the lane, and up to the house, without her -hearing his approach. Somehow, he hardly ever won. Somehow, Judith was -always on the alert, always expecting him. - -But tonight, it almost seemed, in view of the unusual lateness of his -arrival, as if he might score one of his rare successes. The car ran -smoothly, and all but silently, down the narrow lane. At the bottom, at -the house, the carriage gate, as usual, stood wide open. In the moonlit -drive, the rhododendron bushes and the laburnum trees were in full -blossom, just as they had been on that memorable first night, a year -ago. The King drove straight up the drive, and round the side of the -silent, darkened house, to the garage beyond. The garage door, like the -carriage gate, stood wide open. Here, in Paradise, apparently, there -was no need to guard against motor thieves. - -The King turned the car, and backed it into the garage, beside Uncle -Bond's huge Daimler. The silence which followed his shutting off of -the engine, was profound, the essential night silence of the country. -Flinging off his thick, leather motor coat, his hat, and his goggles, -he tossed them, one after the other, into the car. Then he left the -garage, and moved quickly back round the side of the house, treading, -whenever possible, on the grassy borders of the garden flower beds, -lest the sound of his footsteps should reach Judith, and so warn her of -his approach. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - - -In a bush, close up to the house, a nightingale was in full song. -Further away, from one of the trees beyond the shadowy garden lawn, -another nightingale replied. It was as if the two birds were singing -against each other for mastery, pouring out, in a wild, throbbing -ecstasy, the one after the other, twin cascades of lovely, liquid, -matchless notes. - -Judith was sitting on the moonlit verandah. - -The King laughed softly to himself, when he saw her. - -As usual, he had lost! - -She rose to her feet, to receive him, as he approached, and so stood, -tall and slender, just as she had stood on that first, memorable night, -a year ago, framed in the ghostly white blossoms of the clematis -creeper, which covered the verandah pillars and rail. She was wearing -an evening gown of some material in white satin which had a glossy -sheen that shone almost as brightly as the moonlight against the dark -background of the silent house. She was bareheaded, and the light, -night breeze had ruffled one or two tresses of her luxuriant jet black -hair. Her beautiful, vivid face was flushed. Her deep, dark, mysterious -eyes were aglow. Her lips were parted in a little smile of mingled -humour and triumph. - -"I _knew_ that you would come tonight," she said. - -The King stepped up on to the verandah, to her side. - -"I had to come," he confessed. - -"It is a long time, a week, ten days, since you were here." - -"I am not my own master. I have been--very busy. They have given -me--promotion!" - -"The Service! Always the Service!" Judith cried. - -"It is the King's Service," the King replied. - -"I know! I would not have it otherwise, even if I could," Judith -murmured. "I am glad, and proud, that you have been very busy; that -they have given you--promotion; that you serve--the King! And, tonight, -you are wearing his colours?" - -As she spoke, she put out her hand, and deftly rearranged the long -ribbons of the red, white, and blue rosette, which the audacious Doris -had pinned to his coat, earlier in the night. - -"And, tonight, I am wearing his colours," the King replied. "When the -storm, that they say is coming, really breaks, the King will need all -his friends." - -With a quick, abrupt movement, which seemed to indicate a sudden change -of mood, Judith laid her hands on his shoulders, and turned him a -little to the right, so that the moonlight fell full upon his face. - -"Yes. You have changed. Your--promotion--has made a difference," she -murmured. "You speak gravely. You look older. You are more serious. And -there are little lines, and wrinkles, and a frown there, that was never -there before." - -The King drew in his breath sharply. - -The light pressure of Judith's hands on his shoulders, and the sudden -acute sense of her nearness which it brought him, disturbed him -strangely. - -This was a mistake. This was dangerous. And it was unlike Judith. It -was not Judith's way. - -All at once Judith seemed to divine his distress. - -She turned from him quickly. - -"Come and see the Imps," she said, "I was just going in, to look at -them, when you arrived." - -Light of foot, and slender, and tall, she moved off then, on tiptoe, -without waiting for him, along the shadowy verandah, towards the open -window-door of the night nursery near by. - -Conscious of a relief, of which he was somehow ashamed, the King -followed her, obediently, on tiptoe in turn. - -In the night nursery, the nightlight, which protected Button and Bill -from the evil machinations of ghosts and goblins, was burning dimly, -in its saucer, on the mantelpiece, but a shaft of bright moonlight -revealed the two cots, at the far end of the room, in which the -children lay, fast asleep, side by side. Judith was already bending -over the foot of the cots, when the King entered the room. She looked -round at him, finger on lip, as he approached. Button, flushed and -rosy, stirred in his sleep, and flung one small arm out of bed, across -the snow-white counterpane. Bill, cherubic and chubby, heroically lying -on, lest he should suck, his thumb, never moved. - -"They have had a wonderful day," Judith whispered. "We ran our flag -up, this morning, in honour of the King, and I tried to make them -understand about the Coronation. Bill wanted to know if Uncle Alfred -would be in the procession! They would do nothing else for the rest of -the day, but play at being King. You see, they took their crowns to bed -with them." - -She pointed to two crowns, crude, homemade, cardboard toys, covered -with gilt and silver paper, which lay, one on each pillow, beside the -sleeping children. - -A strange thrill, a chill of presentiment, a sense of some impending -crisis, which, it seemed, he was powerless to prevent, which he must -make no attempt to prevent, ran through the King. He shivered. Then -he leant over the cots, and, very carefully, lest he should wake him, -picked up the crown which lay on Button's pillow. - -The crude, grotesque, cardboard toy made a poignant appeal to him. - -Inevitably this toy cardboard crown reminded the King of that other -Crown, from which, even here in Paradise, it seemed, he could not -escape, that other Crown which had been placed on his head at the -climax of the long and exhausting Coronation ceremony, not many hours -back. That other Crown had been heavy. This was light. That other -Crown had been fashioned by cunning artists in metal, out of the -enduring materials judged most precious by man. This crown had been -laboriously patched together by the untried fingers of a child, out -of the flimsy, worthless materials furnished by a nursery cupboard. -And yet, of the two crowns, was the one more valuable, more worth -possessing, than the other? Both were symbols. That other Crown was the -symbol of a heavy burden, of a great responsibility. This toy crown -was the symbol of a child's fertile imagination, and happy play. Both -were pageantry. The one was the pageantry of a lifetime's isolation, -and labour. The other was the pageantry of a child's happy play, for a -single summer day. - -The irony of the contrast, the irony of his own position, gripped the -King, with a thrill of something akin to physical pain. - -With the absurd, toy cardboard crown still in his hand, he turned, and -looked at Judith. - -A dimly realized, instinctive rather than conscious, desire for -sympathy prompted his look. - -And Judith failed him. - -It was not what she did. It was not what she said. She did nothing. She -said nothing. And yet, in one of those strange flashes of intuition, -which come, at times, to the least sensitive of men, the King was aware -that Judith was not herself; that the accord which had hitherto always -existed between them was broken; and that he and she had suddenly -become--antagonistic. - -Judith stood with her hands resting lightly on the brass rail at the -foot of Button's cot. Outwardly her attitude was wholly passive. None -the less, as he gazed at her, the King's intuitive conviction of their -new antagonism deepened. - -An odd, tense, little pause ensued. - -Then, suddenly, Judith turned, and looked at him. - -A wonderful look. A look which amazed, and dumbfounded the King. -A look, not of antagonism, as he had anticipated, but, welling up -from the depths of her dark, mysterious eyes, a look which spoke, -unmistakably, of a woman's tenderness, sympathy, surrender, love. - -For a breathless moment or two, they stood thus, facing each other. - -Then Judith bent down, hurriedly, over the cots once again. - -"If you will go out on to the verandah, Alfred, I will join you there, -in a minute or two," she said. - -Her voice was husky, tremulous, low. - -Mechanically, the King replaced the absurd toy cardboard crown, which -he was still holding in his hand, on Button's pillow. Then, dazed, and -like a man in a dream, he swung slowly round on his heel, and passed -back, through the room, out to the verandah again. - -The nightingales were still singing in the garden. The air was heavy -with the rich scent of some night-blossoming stock, set in one of the -flowerbeds immediately below the verandah rail. The moon was afloat in -a little sea of luminous, billowy, drifting clouds. - -The King sat down in one of the large, wicker work chairs, which always -stood on the verandah. - -He was glad to sit down. - -He was trembling from head to foot-- - -It was for rest, and quiet, and peace, that he had run out to see -Judith, and between them, all in a moment, they had blundered, -together, into the thick of an emotional crisis. - -How? Why? - -It was all an inexplicable mystery to him. - -Where was the white line Judith had always drawn round herself? -Where was the barrier of physical reserve she had always maintained -inviolable between them? From the first moment of his arrival, he -realized now, in some odd way, almost in spite of herself as it were, -she had been--alluring! - -A strange, new Judith! - -A sudden, queer feeling of resentment stirred within the King. - -He had been so sure of Judith! - -She had placed him in an impossible, an intolerable position. - -No. That was unfair, unjust. Judith was not to blame. Judith did not -know--how could she know?--the peculiar difficulties, the inexorable -limitations, imposed upon him by his Royal rank. She did not know--how -could she know?--that friendship was all he could accept from, all he -could offer, to, any woman. To Judith, he was merely a young naval -officer, whose frequent visits, whose unmistakable delight in her -society, could have only one meaning. - -He alone was to blame. By his own act, by his own deliberate -concealment of his real identity, he had made this crisis inevitable -from the first. - -What attitude was he to adopt towards Judith now? Could he ignore -what had happened? Could he hope that Judith would allow him to ignore -what had happened? Or had the time come when he must reveal his real -identity to Judith at last? Would she believe him? If she believed him, -would she be able to forgive his deception? And, even if she forgave -him, would not the shadow thrown by his Royal rank irretrievably injure -his intimacy with her, with the Imps, and with Uncle Bond? All the -spontaneity, the ease, and the naturalness of their relationship would -be at an end. - -No. Whatever happened he could not risk that. - -Judith and Uncle Bond, were the only people he had ever known who had -received him, who had accepted him, for what he was himself, the man -who remained when all the adventitious trappings of Royalty had been -discarded. Judith and Uncle Bond, were the only people he ever met, -who treated him as an equal. As an equal? Judith, and Uncle Bond, -quite rightly, often treated him as their inferior, their inferior in -knowledge, in experience, in wisdom. - -The King leant back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He was suddenly -very weary. The reaction following all that he had been through the -last twenty-four hours was heavy upon him. Difficult and dangerous -moments, he realized, lay immediately in front of him. And he was in no -condition to meet either difficulty or danger. What he wanted now was -rest-- - -It was some little time before Judith reappeared on the verandah. When -she did reappear she brought with her a tray on which stood decanters, -and glasses, and biscuits, and fruit. A picnic meal, like the one which -he had enjoyed on that first memorable night twelve months ago, had -become, whenever possible, a feature of the ordinary routine of the -King's visits. - -Judith set down her tray on a wicker work table which stood beside the -King. - -The King did not look round. He could not, he dare not, face Judith. - -Judith slipped behind his chair. - -"I am sorry, Alfred," she said. "I blame myself. It was my fault. It -ought not to have happened, tonight, of all nights. You were absolutely -worn out, already, weren't you? I might, I ought to, have remembered -that. I want you to forget all about it, if you can. Now, how long can -you stay?" - -A great wave of relief swept over the King. - -Judith was herself again. - -This was the old Judith. - -"I shall have to leave at seven o'clock in the morning, as usual. I -must be back in town by eight o'clock at the latest," he said. - -"Then you must have a drink, and something to eat, at once," Judith, -the old Judith, announced taking absolute command of him again, from -that moment, as was her wont. "We'll stay out here, and listen to the -nightingales, for half an hour, if you like. I am glad they are singing -for you, tonight. And then, and then you will go straight to bed." - -Drawing another chair up to the table, as she spoke, she sat down. Then -she proceeded to wait upon him with the easy, unembarrassed grace which -gave such an intimate charm to all her hospitality. - -"Whisky and soda? And a biscuit? Or will you smoke?" she asked. - -"I am too tired to smoke. I am almost too tired to drink, I think," the -King murmured. - -Judith looked at him keenly. - -"What you want is sleep, Alfred," she said. "Drink this! It will do you -good. Don't bother to talk. I'll do the talking." - -The King took the glass which Judith held out to him, and drank, as he -was told. - -Then he leant further back still in his chair. - -He had reached a point, he was suddenly conscious now, not far removed -from complete exhaustion. - -In a little while, Judith, as she had promised, began to talk. - -"You will see Uncle Bond, in the morning, of course," she remarked. -"You will do him good. He is in rather a bad way, just at present, -poor old dear. The new serial seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. -'Cynthia St. Claire' isn't functioning properly, at the moment. He's -locked himself up, for several nights now, without any result. He says -it doesn't seem to matter how many candles he lights. 'Cynthia' still -eludes him. It really is a sort of Jekyll and Hyde business with him, -you know. If he is to do any work, he has to be 'Cynthia St. Claire,' -and not James Bond. It is plain James Bond we prefer, of course. But it -is 'Cynthia' who makes all the money, you know. - -"The worst of it is, in spite of what Uncle Bond says, I am afraid it -isn't all 'Cynthia's' fault this time. He's been running up to town, -and knocking about the clubs, a good deal lately. That is nearly always -a sign that he is trying to dodge 'Cynthia.' It is almost as if he had -got something on his mind. Seeing you will do him good. He always gets -what he calls a flow on, when you have been over. He wants it badly -now. The new story is three instalments behind the time-table already. -Part of his trouble, I think, is that he is working on a plain heroine. -He does them alternately, you know. One Plain. The next Ringlets. This -one, I understand, is very plain. He misses the chance, I believe, of -filling in with purple passages of personal description. You have read -some of Uncle Bond's stuff, haven't you? Officially, I am not allowed -to. Unofficially, of course, I read every word of it I can get hold of. -It's wonderful how he keeps it up, isn't it? And, every now and then, -in spite of 'Cynthia,' he slips in something, without knowing it, which -only James Bond could have written. All sorts of unexpected people read -him, you know. He says it is the name, and not the stuff, that does the -trick. I think that it is the stuff. People like romance. Uncle Bond -gives it to them." - -At that moment, the sleep, of which the King stood in such dire need, -long overdue as it was, touched his eyelids. - -Judith shot out her arm, and skilfully retrieved the half empty glass, -which all but fell from his hand. - -A little later, when he awoke with a start, conscious of the strange -refreshment which even a moment's sleep brings, he found that Judith's -hand was in his. - -"It has been a wonderful summer," Judith murmured. "If the sun did not -shine again, for months, we should have no right to complain. First -the lilac, and the chestnuts, and the hawthorn; then the laburnum and -the rhododendrons; and now the wild roses are beginning to show in the -hedges. The skylarks singing at dawn; the cuckoo calling all day; the -thrushes and the blackbirds whistling in the hot afternoon; and the -nightingales, singing at night, as they are singing now! The bright sun -in the morning, the blue sky, and the green of the trees. The haymakers -at work in the fields. The whir of the haycutting machine. The Imps -tumbling over each other in the hay, and calling to me. Diana's foal -in the paddock, all long legs, and short tail. The wren's nest in -the garden, with six little wrens in it for Jenny Wren to feed. The -afternoon sunlight on the trees; Uncle Bond in the garden, chuckling -over his roses; the sunset; the young rabbits, with their white -bob-tails, scuttling in and out of the hedges; a patter of rain on the -leaves; the breeze in the trees; the twilight; the cool of the evening; -and then the blue of the night sky, the stars, and the golden moon, -in a bed of billowy, drifting clouds. The scent of the hayfields, the -scent of the flowers; and the nightingales singing, in the garden, as -they are singing now! - -"The nightingales are singing about it all. Can you hear what they say? -I have been trying to put the nightingales' song into words. Listen! -Those long, liquid notes--" - -The night air was heavy with the scent of the night-blossoming stock, -in the flowerbed, immediately below the verandah rail. The nightingales -sang as if at the climax of their rivalry for mastery. A huge owl -lumbered, rather than flew, across the shadowy garden. - -For a moment, it seemed to the King, as if the verandah, the house, the -garden, and even the night sky, stood away from them, receded, and that -he and Judith were alone, together, in infinite space. - -The moment passed. - -Judith stood up. - -"Bed!" she said, speaking with the note of smiling, kindly discipline, -with which she ruled the Imps, and, when she chose, even Uncle Bond -and himself. "You will be able to sleep now, Alfred." - -The King rose obediently to his feet to find, with a certain dull, -dazed surprise, that he was stiff and sore, and hardly able to stand. - -Dazed as he was, he did not fail to see the look of sharp anxiety which -shone, for a moment, in Judith's eyes. - -"Lean on me, old man!" she exclaimed. "You are done up. I'll see you -to your room. They have been working you too hard. Do they never think -of--the man--in your Service?" - -She put out her arm, as she spoke, and slipped it skilfully round his -shoulders. - -And so, glad of Judith's support, and only restfully conscious of her -nearness now, the King moved off slowly along the verandah towards the -room, at the far end of the silent, darkened house, which had come -to be regarded as his room, and, as such, was strictly reserved, "in -perpetuity," for his use alone. - -"Here you are!" Judith announced, at last, halting at the open window -door of the room. "You will be able to manage by yourself now, won't -you? You must sleep now, Alfred. Dreamless sleep! Every minute of it! -The Imps will call you, as usual, in the morning. Good-night." - -A minute or two later, the King found himself alone, inside the room, -sitting on the edge of the bed, with an urgent desire for sleep rising -within him. - -The fresh, fragrant night air blew softly into the room, through the -open window door, beyond which he could see, as he sat on the edge of -the bed, the gently swaying branches of the garden trees, silhouetted -against the dark blue background of the moonlit sky. - -The nightingales were still singing in the garden. - -Yes. He could sleep here. - -The room itself invited rest, induced sleep. Plainly, although -comfortably furnished, and decorated throughout in a soothing tint -of grey, the room had a spaciousness, even an emptiness, which was -far more to the King's taste, than the ornate fittings of that other -bedroom of his in the palace, where sleep so often eluded him. Beyond -the absolutely necessary furniture, there was nothing in the room, save -the few essential toilet trifles which he kept there. Nothing was ever -altered in, nothing was ever moved from, this room, in his absence. It -had all become congenial, friendly, familiar. - -The King undressed, mechanically, in the moonlight, and put on the -sleeping suit which lay ready to his hand, on the bed, at his side. - -Then he got into bed. - -His last thought was one of gratitude to, and renewed confidence in, -Judith. How she had humoured, how she had managed him, coaxing and -cajoling him, as if he had been a sick child, along the shadowy road to -sleep. The emotional crisis which had arisen so inexplicably between -them had, as inexplicably spent its force harmlessly. Their friendship -was unimpaired. Nothing was altered between them. Nothing was to be -altered. Judith had emphasized that. The Imps were to wake him, in the -morning, as usual. He was to see Uncle Bond. All was to be as it had -always been. He was glad. He had no wish for, he shrank instinctively -from the thought of, any changes, here, in Paradise. - -But now he must sleep. Dreamless sleep. - -And so, he fell asleep. - -He slept, at once, so soundly, that he never stirred, when, in a little -while, Judith slipped noiselessly into the room. Crossing to the bed, -she stood, for a moment or two, looking down at him, with all the -unfathomable tenderness in her dark, mysterious eyes, which she had -asked him to forget, which she had made him forget. - -Suddenly, she leant over the bed, and kissed him lightly on the -forehead. - -Then she slipped quickly out of the room, once again. - - - - -CHAPTER V - - -It was to the sound of the patter of bare feet, on the polished floor -of his bedroom, followed by suppressed gurgles of joyous laughter, that -the King awoke, in the morning. Bright sunshine was streaming into -the room, through the still open window door. Button and Bill, their -faces rosy with health and sleep, and their hair still tousled, as it -had come from their pillows, engagingly droll little figures in their -diminutive sleeping suits, stood at his bedside, watching him with -shining, mischievous eyes. As he sat up in bed, they flung themselves -at him, with triumphant shouts, wriggling and swarming all over him, as -they essayed to smother him, under his own bedclothes and pillows. - -At the end of two or three hilarious, and vivid moments of mimic -fight, the King brought the heavy artillery of his bolster to bear -on his enemies, smiting them cunningly in the "safe places" of their -wriggling, deliciously fresh little bodies, and so driving them, inch -by inch, down to the foot of the bed, where, still laughing and -gurgling gloriously, they rolled themselves up, to evade his blows, -like a couple of young hedgehogs. - -Then the King flung his bolster on to the floor, and, reaching out -his arms, took his enemies captive, tucking them, one under each arm, -and holding them there, kicking and protesting, but wholly willing -prisoners. - -Button, at this point, although suspended under the King's left arm, -more or less in mid-air, contrived to wriggle his right hand free, and -held it out gravely, to be shaken. On the strength of his seven years, -Button had lately given up kissing in public, and begun to affect the -formal manner of the man of the world, in matters of courtesy, as -shrewdly observed in Uncle Bond. - -"Good morning, my boy," he remarked, in Uncle Bond's blandest manner. - -In order to shake Button's hand, the King was compelled to release Bill -from his prison, under his right arm. Bill, whose happy fate it was -to be still only five, the true golden age, had no man of the world -pretensions, no sense of shame in his affections. Breaking ruthlessly -into Button's formal greeting, he flung both his chubby arms round -the King's neck, pulled his head down to be kissed, and then hugged -him, with all the force in his lithe little body, chanting in a voice -absurdly like Judith's the while-- - -"Diana's got a foal, all legs and stumpy tail, and a white star on its -face. We're making the hay. There's a wren's nest in the garden. It's -past six o'clock, and it's a lovely summer morning, and you've got to -get up, Uncle Alfred." - -From some dusty pigeonhole in his memory, where it had lain since his -own far-away childhood, there floated out into the King's mind, a -phrase, a sentence-- - - "And I said I will not put forth mine hand to touch my King, for he is - the Lord's Anointed." - -It was a phrase, a sentence, which he could trace back to the Bible -lessons, which had been as faithfully and remorselessly delivered, on -Sunday afternoons, in the Royal nursery, as in any other nursery of the -period, when the strict discipline in such matters, derived originally -from the now well-nigh forgotten Victorian era, had not been altogether -relaxed. It was a phrase, a sentence, which had impressed itself upon -his childish imagination, and had, for years, stood between him, and -his father, the King. His father had been the Lord's Anointed. As a -child he had not dared to put forth his hand to touch him! For years, -he had lived in awe, almost in fear, of his own father. Perhaps this -was why, even down to the day of his death, the King had always seemed -to him to be a man apart, isolated, lonely, remote. Perhaps this -was partly why, he himself, now that he was King, was so constantly -conscious of his own intolerable isolation. - - "And I said I will not put forth mine hand to touch my King, for he is - the Lord's Anointed." - -If Button and Bill, particularly Bill, whose chubby arms were, even -now, tightening around him, knew his real identity, knew that he was -the King, "the Lord's Anointed," not a fairy tale King, not a King -of their own childish play, but _the_ King, in whose procession they -had thought Uncle Alfred might have a place, would not they live in -awe of him, would not they fear him, would not the present delightful -spontaneity, the fearlessness, the frank embraces, of their intercourse -with him, be irreparably injured? - -Yes. His decision of the night before must stand. - -Button and Bill must never know, Judith and Uncle Bond must never -know, his real identity. - -At that moment, Judith knocked at the bedroom door. - -"Good morning, Alfred. The bathroom is yours, and the Imps, if you -don't mind having them with you, and letting them have a splash," she -called out cheerily. "But no flood in the passage, this morning, mind! -Breakfast in half an hour, on the verandah. We shall be by ourselves. -Uncle Bond has had another bad night. 'Cynthia' has failed him again. -He daren't face eggs and bacon in public, he says. Hurry up, Imps. Big -sponge, floating soap, and bath towels, at the double." - -"I'm first!" Button shrieked, making a wild dive for the door. - -"I'd rather be last!" Bill explained, quite unconcerned, lingering to -give the King a final hug. - -"If I'm last, I shall be able to float 'Ironclad Willie,' and -'Snuffles,' shan't I? They haven't had a swim--for _ever_ so long--poor -dears." - -'Ironclad Willie,' and 'Snuffles,' were a large china fish, and a small -china duck, which Bill sometimes forgot, and sometimes remembered at -bath time. - -A hilarious, crowded, half hour followed. It was a half hour lit up, -for the King, by the blended innocence and mischief which shone in the -Imps' eyes, a half hour set to music for him by the Imps' gurgling -chuckles, and radiant, childish laughter. First came the bathroom, -where the Imps splashed and twisted in the bath, their brown, wriggling -little bodies as lithe and supple as those of young eels; where Bill, -lost in a huge bath towel, demanded assistance in drying all the back -places and corners; where Button solemnly lathered his chin, just -as Uncle Alfred lathered his chin; where Bill was, for one terrible -moment, in imminent peril of his life, as he grabbed at the case of -shining razors. Then came the bedroom again, where odd, queer-shaped -little garments had to be turned right side out, and buttons and -strings had to be fastened, and tied. Innocency, fearlessness, trust, -mischief, and laughter were inextricably mingled in it all, with -laughter predominating, the radiant laughter of the happy child, -ignorant of evil. - -All this was all as it had always been, and, for that reason, it all -made a more poignant appeal, than ever before, this morning, to the -King. - -Breakfast was served, as Judith had promised, out on the sunlit -verandah. - -One glance at Judith, as he approached the breakfast table, assured the -King that it was the old Judith with whom he had to deal. - -Dressed in white, and as fresh and cool as the morning, Judith was -already in her place, at the head of the table, hospitably entrenched -behind the coffee pot. - -She looked up at the King, with her customary little nod, and friendly -smile. - -"You slept? You are rested? It was dreamless sleep? Good boy!" she said. - -And she poured out his coffee. - -From that moment, they fell, easily and naturally, into their usual -routine. - -Intimate conversation, with the Imps at the table, was out of the -question. An occasional glance, a sympathetic smile, was all that -could pass between them. The King was well content to have it so. He -was pleasantly conscious that the accord between them, which had been -so inexplicably broken, for a time, the night before, was completely -restored. Their friendship was unimpaired. Nothing else mattered. -Looking at Judith, cool, competent, and self-contained, as she was, he -found himself almost doubting the actuality of the emotional crisis of -the night before. Had that scene in the night nursery been a dream? A -mere figment of his own fevered, disordered imagination? - -The birds whistled, and called cheerily from the sunlit greenness of -the garden. - -The Imps chattered like magpies as they attacked their porridge. - -It was a merry, informal, delightfully domestic meal. - -This, it seemed to the King, was his only real life. That other life -of his in the palace, guarded, night and day, by the soldiery, and the -police, was the illusion, was the dream. - -But the meal was, inevitably, a hurried one, and it ended, abruptly, -and all too soon, when Judith rose suddenly to her feet, and drove the -Imps before her, along the verandah, to say good morning to Diana's -foal in the paddock. - -No word of farewell was spoken. - -It had become an understood thing, part of the usual routine, that the -King should never say good-bye. - -Left alone, the King leant back in his chair, and filled, and lit, his -pipe. He always lingered for awhile, beside the disordered breakfast -table, on these occasions, so that he could savour to the full, the -peace, the quietness, and the beauty of his surroundings. He had learnt -to store up such impressions in his memory, so that he could invoke -them, for his own encouragement, in his darker hours. And, it was more -than probable, that if he waited a few minutes, Uncle Bond would come -out to speak to him. A sentence or two, from Judith's talk the night -before, recurred to him now. Uncle Bond, really worried, was a new, and -strange, phenomenon. If he could cheer the little man up, as Judith had -suggested, he would be glad. He owed a great deal to Uncle Bond. - -A thrush, perched at the top of a tall fir tree, near the house, -whistled blithely. - -The minutes passed. - -Uncle Bond did not come. - -At last, the King glanced reluctantly at his watch. It was seven -o'clock. It was time for him to go. He must be back in the palace by -eight o'clock, at the latest. He stood up. Then, conscious of a keen -sense of disappointment at not seeing Uncle Bond, over and above the -depression which he always felt when the moment came for him to leave -Paradise, he stepped down off the verandah, and moved slowly round the -side of the house, through the sunlit garden, towards the garage. - -He had no hope of seeing Judith, or even the Imps, again. They would -stay in the paddock, or in the hayfields beyond, until he had driven -away, clear of the house, and the garden. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - -Uncle Bond, as it proved, had been waiting for him, all the time, at -the garage. - -The little man had run the King's car, out of the garage, into the -drive. Already seated himself in the car, he looked up, as the King -approached, with a mischievous twinkle in his spectacled eyes, and a -droll smile puckering his round, double-chinned, clean-shaven face. - -"Good morning, my boy, I'm going to see you along the main road, for -a mile or two," he announced. "I shall have to walk back. That will -be good for me. Judith says I'm getting fat! Thought I was cutting -you, didn't you? I thought that I'd stage a little surprise for you. -Astonishment is good for the young. It is the only means we old fogies -have left, nowadays, of keeping you youngsters properly humble. The -Imps have taught me that! Jump in! I want to talk to you." - -The King looked at the corpulent little man, and laughed. - -"I was feeling absurdly disappointed, because I hadn't seen you, Uncle -Bond," he confessed. - -Putting on his thick leather motor coat, and adjusting his goggles, -which the little man had placed in readiness for him, on the vacant -seat at the steering wheel, the King got into the car, and started the -engine. - -"The first mile in silence!" Uncle Bond directed. "If possible I have -got to assume an unaccustomed air of gravity. And drive slowly. The -subtlety of that suggestion probably escapes you. A bar or two of slow -music and--enter emotion! When I chuckle again, you can change your -gear." - -Away from the house, down the short, sunlit drive, and out into, and -up, the narrow tree-shadowed lane beyond, the King drove slowly, and in -silence, as the little man had directed. - -All but buried under the big, black sombrero-like felt hat, which it -was his whim to affect, in grotesque contrast with the light, loosely -cut shooting clothes which were his habitual wear, Uncle Bond sat -low down in his seat in the car, on the King's left. In spite of -his invocation of gravity, gravity remained far from him. Nothing -could altogether efface the mischievous twinkle which lurked in his -spectacled eyes, or blot out, for long, the mocking smile which -puckered his mobile lips. But the King knew Uncle Bond well enough to -realize that he was unusually thoughtful. What was it Judith had said? -It was almost as if Uncle Bond had something on his mind. Judith was -right. The little man, clearly, at any rate, had something that he -wanted to say. - -It was not until the car had swung out of the lane, and headed for -London, was sweeping down the broad, and, at this comparatively early -hour of the morning, empty, Great North Road, that Uncle Bond spoke. - -"We have not seen very much of you, lately, my boy," he remarked. -"You have been busy, no doubt. In the Service, you young men are not -your own masters, of course. And Judith tells me that they have even -made the mistake of giving you--promotion. I have been wondering if -that--promotion--is likely to make your visits to us more difficult, -and so rarer? The increasing responsibility, the increasing demands on -your energy, and on your time, which your--promotion--has, no doubt, -brought with it, will, perhaps, interfere with your visits to us? -Perhaps you will have to discontinue your visits to us, altogether, for -a time?" - -Although his own eyes were, of necessity, fixed on the stretch of the -broad, empty, sunlit road, immediately in front of the throbbing car, -the King was uncomfortably aware that Uncle Bond was watching him -narrowly as he spoke. This, then, was the something that the little -man had on his mind. Suspicion? Doubt? Doubt of him? Doubt of his -loyalty to his friends? In spite of the little man's suave manner, and -carefully chosen phrases, it seemed to the King that the inference was -unmistakable. It was an astonishing inference to come from Uncle Bond. -Discontinue his visits? This, when he had just been congratulating -himself on the unchanged nature of his intimacy with Judith, and with -the Imps, so unexpectedly, and seriously, threatened, the night before, -but so thoroughly and happily, re-established, that morning. Had he not -made up his mind that all was to be as it had always been? But Uncle -Bond knew nothing about that, of course. - -"My--promotion--will not interfere with my visits to you, and to -Judith, Uncle Bond," he declared. - -"You are sure of that?" Uncle Bond persisted. - -"Absolutely certain," the King exclaimed, and in spite of his efforts -to suppress it, a note of rising irritation sounded in his voice. - -There was a momentary pause. - -Then Uncle Bond chuckled. - -"Change your gear, my boy. I chuckled! Change your gear," he crowed. "A -mile or two of real speed will do neither you nor me, any harm, now. -Did I not say--'Enter emotion!' But I did not say that it would be my -emotion, did I? You are the hero of this piece. It is for you the slow -music has to be played. I am only the knockabout comedian, useful for -filling in the drop scenes. Or am I the heavy father? 'Pon my soul, -when I come to think of it, it seems to me that I am destined to double -the two parts." - -He laid his hand on the King's arm. - -"I like your answer, my boy. It is the answer I expected you to make. -But I could not be sure. Human nature being the unaccountable thing -that it is, I could not be sure. And now, I have another question to -ask you. And I am the heavy father now. If only I could be grave! If -your visits to us are to continue, don't you think it will be, perhaps, -as well for you to be a little more careful about--the conventions, -shall I say? You arrived very late, last night. Judith was alone to -receive you. Such circumstances are liable to be misunderstood, don't -you think? And, although we are all apt to overlook the fact, we are -all--human. A wise man avoids, for his own sake, and for the sake of -others--certain provocations. 'The prudent man forseeth the evil'--but -the quotation would be lost on you. A text for my sermon!" - -The King had, automatically, let out the car, in response to Uncle -Bond's direction. He applied all his brakes, and slowed the car down -again now, on his own behalf. He wanted to be able to breathe, to think. - -This was the first time Uncle Bond had ever spoken to him in this -way. The wonder, of course, was that he had never spoken to him, in -this way, before. Did the little man know what had happened the night -before? No. That was impossible. Judith would not, Judith could not, -have disclosed what had happened to him. It must be his own unerring -instinct, his own sure knowledge of human nature, which had prompted -the little man to deliver this sermon. This sermon? This generous, -kindly, tactful, whimsical reproof. How well deserved the reproof was, -the events of the night before had shown. - -"I am sorry, Uncle Bond. I have been very thoughtless," he said. "It -will not happen again." - -"Judith and I appreciate your visits, my boy," Uncle Bond continued. -"It would be a matter of very great regret to--both of us--if we found -that we had--to limit, in any way--the hospitality, which we have been -so glad to offer you. We wish, we both wish, to maintain our present, -pleasant relationship, unchanged. That is your wish, too, I think?" - -The King let out the car once again. His emotions, his thoughts -required, now, the relief of speed. - -"Somehow, I can never bear to think of any change, where you, and -Judith, and the Imps are concerned, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed. -"Somehow, I can never think of you, except all together, in the -surroundings you have made your own. And that is strange, you know! We -are all, as you say--human. Judith--Judith is the superior of every -woman I have ever met. Her place is, her place ought to be, by right, -at the head of the procession. And yet, somehow, I can never see her -there!" - -Uncle Bond sat very still. - -"At the head of the procession?" he murmured. "Is that so enviable a -position, my boy? Ask the man, ask the men, you find there!" - -He chuckled then unaccountably. - -The King winced. It was only one of the chance flashes of cynicism, -with which Uncle Bond salted his talk, of course. But how true, and -apposite, to his own position, and experience, the remark was! - -"And, if the head of the procession is no enviable place for a man, -what would it be for a woman, for a woman with a heart?" Uncle Bond -proceeded. "'Pon my soul, I am talking pure 'Cynthia'!" he exclaimed. -"'Cynthia' has begun to function, at last! That last sentence was in -the lazy minx's best style. Judith will have told you that 'Cynthia' -has been giving me a lot of trouble lately? You have lured her back, -my boy. I thank you! You always attract her. She has a weakness for -handsome young men. Her heroes are always Apollos." - -He half turned, in his seat, towards the King. - -"My boy, I will offer you another piece of advice," he remarked. "It -is a mistake I do not often make." His habits of speech were too much -for him. Even now, when he was patently in earnest, the little man -could not be grave. "My advice is this--never attempt to put, never -think, even in your own mind, of putting Judith, at the head of any -procession. It is not Judith's place. Her place is in the background, -the best place, the place that the best women always choose, in life. -'Cynthia' again! Pure 'Cynthia'! Welcome, you minx! If you ever -attempt to take Judith out of the background, out of the background -which she has chosen for herself, you will encounter inevitable -disappointment, and cause yourself, and so her, pain. And you will -spoil the--friendship--between you and Judith, which I have found so -much--pleasure in watching. That is not 'Cynthia.' It is myself, plain -James Bond. My advice, you see, like everybody else's, is, by no means, -disinterested." - -The King smiled at the little man, almost in spite of himself. This was -the true Uncle Bond. This was Uncle Bond's way. - -"I wonder if you are right, Uncle Bond? I am afraid, my own feeling -suggests, that you are," he murmured. "And yet, somehow, I am not -sure--" - -Unconsciously, he slowed down the car, yet once again, as he spoke. -The little man had stirred thoughts in him which required deliberate, -and careful, expression. - -"I have not thought very much about the procession, myself, until just -lately," he said. "But it seems to me, you know, that we none of us, -men and women alike, have very much to do with our place in the files. -I have never believed in chance. And I am not, I think, a fatalist. And -yet, you know, it seems to me that the procession catches us up, and -sweeps us along, at the head or the tail, as the case may be, whether -we will or no. A man may be caught up, suddenly, into the procession, -and swept along with it, into some position, which he never expected to -fill, which he would rather not fill, but from which he seems to have -no chance of escape. Has he any chance of escape? It is the procession -that controls us, I think, not we who control the procession. What do -you think? Can a man escape? Can any of us ever really choose our place -in the files?" - -Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly. - -"Judith told me that they had been overworking you, my boy. Judith, -as usual, was right," he remarked. "You appear to me to be in grave -danger of becoming most satisfactorily morbid. Liver! Almost certainly -liver! But about this procession of yours. 'Pon my soul, the figure, -the fancy, is not unworthy of 'Cynthia' herself. It would make a -useful purple passage. Not for serial publication, of course. We cut -them out there. But we put them in again, when the time comes for the -stuff to go into book form. The procession of life! Yes. The idea is -quite sufficiently threadbare. The one essential, for the successful -production of money-making fiction is, of course, to be threadbare. -Give the public what they have had before! But you are interested in -the procession, not in the literary market. Can a man, or a woman, -choose their place in the files? I say 'yes!' - -"Once or twice, in the life of every man and woman, I believe, come -moments, when they must choose their place in the files, moments when -they have to decide whether they will stay where they are, whether they -will fight to hold the place they have, whether they will shoulder -their way forward, or whether they will fall out, to one side, or to -the rear. All my life, I have been watching the procession, my boy. -That is why I have grown so fat! It is many years, now, since I decided -to step out of the procession, to one side, and I have been watching -it sweep past, ever since. A brave show! But we have been talking -glibly of the head and the tail of the procession. Where are they? I -have never found them. I have never seen them. All I have ever seen is -that the procession is there, and that it moves. But, no doubt, the -band is playing--somewhere-- - -"But you are young, and they have just given you--promotion! You are -in the procession, sweeping through the market-place, with all the -flags flying, and the band, as I say, playing--somewhere. But I, and -Judith, we are a little to one side, in the background, watching you, -in the procession, from one of the windows of the quiet, old-fashioned -inn, at the corner of the market-place, the quiet, old-fashioned inn -on the signboard of which is written, in letters of gold, 'Content.' -Your instinct will probably, and very properly, prompt you to fight -for your place in the files, when the other fellows tread too hard on -your heels. But, whether you fight for your place or not, whether you -come out at the head or the tail of the procession, wherever the head -and tail may be, whether you step to one side, or fall out altogether, -whatever happens to you, my boy, Judith and I will always be glad -to welcome you to the inn at the corner, and give you a seat at our -window. You will remember that? - -"And what do you think of that, as a purple passage, my boy? 'Pon my -soul, it seems to me, now, that 'Cynthia' is functioning, she is in -quite her best vein. I must get back home with her, at once. Pull up on -this side of the signpost. I must not advance a foot into Hades, this -morning, or I shall lose touch with the minx. She ought to be good for -five or six thousand words today. And they are badly needed. The new -story is three instalments behind the time-table already. It is the -villain of the new piece, who is giving us trouble. Even 'Cynthia,' -herself, is tired of him, I believe. He is a sallow person, with a -pair of black, bushy eyebrows, which run up and down his forehead, -with a regularity which is depressing. Two or three times, in each -instalment, the confounded things go up and down, like sky-rockets. He -lives in a mysterious house, in one of the mean streets, in the new -artistic quarter, in Brixton. The house is full of Eastern furniture, -and glamour. That is threadbare enough, isn't it? And I am using back -numbers of 'Punch,' for humour." - -Once again, the King let out the car. He knew Uncle Bond well enough -to recognize that the little man was talking extravagantly now, to hide -the note of sincere personal feeling, which had sounded unmistakably -in his talk of the procession, although he had been so careful to -attribute it all to 'Cynthia.' It was on occasions such as this, after -one of his sudden flashes of sincerity, that Uncle Bond became most -outrageously flippant. Nothing but burlesque humour, and grotesque, -extravagant nonsense was to be expected from him now. - -At the moment, flippancy jarred on the King. His attention had been -riveted by the little man's vivid, figurative talk of the procession, -so peculiarly apposite, as it was, to his own position, and the -assurance of unchanging friendship, with which it had ended, had moved, -and humbled him. He did not deserve, in view of his concealment of his -real identity, he had no right to accept, such friendship. - -But Uncle Bond never did the expected thing! - -Now, as the throbbing car leapt forward, and swept along the broad, -sunlit road at its highest speed, the little man became suddenly -silent. A new mood of abstraction seemed to fall upon him. It was -almost as if he had still something on his mind, as if there was still -something which he wanted to say. - -Soon the Paradise-Hades signpost, to which the King himself had -introduced the little man, flashed into view, on the right of the road. - -The King at once pulled up the car, well on the Paradise side of the -post. - -Uncle Bond threw off his unusual abstraction, in a moment, and -scrambled, nimbly enough, out of the car. - -The little man tested the car door carefully, to make sure that he had -fastened it securely behind him. - -Then he looked up at the King, with an odd, provocative twinkle in his -mischievous, spectacled eyes. - -"If I were you, Alfred, I should fight for my place in the procession, -if necessary," he remarked. "Fight for your place, if necessary, my -boy! After all, you are young, and they have just given you--promotion. -I have a shrewd suspicion that you would not be satisfied, for long, -by the view from our window, in the quiet, old-fashioned, inn of -'Content.' You would soon want to alter the signboard inscription, -I fancy. An occasional glance through the window is all very well. -It is restful. It serves its purpose. But a taste for the stir, -the bustle, the jostling, and the dust and the clamour, in the -market-place, is pretty deeply implanted in all of us. To be in the -movement! It is, almost, the universal disease. A man, who is a man, -a young man, wants to be in the thick of things, in the hurly-burly, -in the street below. What is there for him in a window view? Fight for -your place, if necessary, my boy! And, if you decide to fight, fight -with a good grace, and with all your heart. It is the half-hearted -men, it is the half-hearted women, who fail. The best places in the -procession--whether they are at the head or the tail, and where the -head and the tail are, who knows?--like the best seats at the inn -windows, in the background, fall to the men, fall to the women, who -know what they want, who know their own mind. - -"But, now, I must walk!" - -And with that, and with no other leave-taking, Uncle Bond swung round -abruptly, and set off, with surprising swiftness, for so small, and so -corpulent a man, straight back along the road. - -Automatically, the King restarted the car. - -Then he turned in his seat, to wave his hand, in farewell, to Uncle -Bond. - -But Uncle Bond did not look round. - -The King glanced at his watch. It was already half past seven. He had -a good deal of time to make up. But he could do it. He opened out the -car, now, to its fullest extent. The powerful engine responded, at -once, to his touch, and the car shot forward--out of Paradise into -Hades! - -For once the King was unconscious of this transition. He was thinking -of the procession, of Uncle Bond, of Judith, and of himself; their -seats at the inn window; his place in the files. Must the whole width -of the market-place always lie between them? Must it always be only -occasionally, and with some risk--the risk he was running now--that he -stepped out of the procession, and slipped, secretly, into the quiet -"inn of Content," to look through their window, to stand, for a few -moments, at their side? They were in the background. He was at the head -of the procession. At the head? Who knew, who could say, where the head -or the tail was? Was the band playing--somewhere? He had never heard -it. Would he tire of the window view--soon? Was he not tired already, -of his place in the files? - -Fight for his place? Must he fight? A fight was something. The other -fellows were treading very hard on his heels. But was his place worth -fighting for? Did he want it? He had not chosen it. It had been thrust -upon him. The moments of decision, when a man had to choose his place -in the files, about which Uncle Bond had spoken so confidently, had -never come to him. Moments of decision? What could he, what did he, -ever decide? In the very fight for his place, which was impending, -he would not be allowed to commit himself. The fight would be fought -for him, all around him, and he, the man most concerned, was the one -man who could not, who would not be allowed, to take a side. It was -all arranged for him. The old Duke of Northborough, the lightning -conductor, would take the shock! And the result? Did he know what he -wanted? Did he know his own mind? A half-hearted man! What a faculty -Uncle Bond had for hitting on a phrase, a sentence, that stuck, that -recurred. It described him. A half-hearted King. A half-hearted friend. -A half-hearted--lover. - -But was it altogether his fault? Was it not his position, his -intolerable isolation, his responsibility, which, by a bitter paradox, -was without responsibility, that had thrown his whole life out of gear, -and paralysed his will? As a sailor, in his own chosen profession, -with responsibility, with the command of men, he had held his own, more -than held his own, with his peers. He had had his place, an honourable -place, amongst men of the same seniority as himself, and the Navy took -the best men, the pick of the country. Yes. He knew what he wanted -now. A moment of decision. A moment in which he could be himself. A -moment in which he could assert himself, assert his own individuality, -recklessly, violently, prove that he was not a half-hearted man, not an -automaton, not an overdressed popinjay-- - -At this point, the appearance of a certain amount of traffic on the -road, as the car swept into the fringe of the outer suburbs, and -the more careful driving which it entailed, broke the thread of the -King's thoughts. The inevitable lowering of the speed of the car which -followed, served to remind him anew that he still had a good deal of -time to make up, thanks to his loitering with Uncle Bond, if he was -to be successful in effecting his return to the palace unobserved. -His rising anxiety about this now all important matter led him -thenceforward to concentrate the whole of his attention on his handling -of the car. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - - -In the outer suburbs, milkmen, postmen, and boys delivering newspapers, -were moving from door to door, in the quiet streets of villas. The -tramcars, and later the buses, which the car caught up, and passed, -were crowded with workmen, being carried at "Workmen's Fares." The shop -fronts, in the inner suburbs, gay in the early morning sunlight, with -their Coronation flags and decorations, were still all shuttered; but a -thin trickle of men and women in the streets, moving in the direction -of the railway stations, gave promise already of the impending rush -of the business crowd. Coronation Day had come, and gone. The public -holiday was over. Now there was work toward. - -At the far end of Tottenham Court Road, by which broad thoroughfare he -approached, as he had escaped from, the town, the King deliberately -varied the route which he had followed the night before. Heading the -car straight on down Charing Cross Road, through Trafalgar Square, -and so into Whitehall, he turned, at last, into Victoria Street. It -was by the side streets, in the vicinity of Victoria Station, that he -ultimately approached the palace, and ran out into Lower Grosvenor -Place. He did this to avoid the neighbourhood of the parks, and -possible recognition by early morning riders, on their way to and from -Rotten Row. - -Lower Grosvenor Place proved, as usual, deserted. In the secluded, -shut-in mews, behind the tall houses, no one, as yet, was stirring. In -a very few minutes, the King had successfully garaged the car. Then he -slipped hurriedly back across Grosvenor Place. The road was happily -still empty, and he reached the small, green, wooden door in the palace -garden wall, without encountering anything more formidable than a stray -black cat. A black cat which shared his taste for night walking. A -purring black cat, which rubbed its head against his legs. A black cat -for luck! - -Unlocking, and opening, the door, the King slipped into the palace -garden. - -The door swung to behind him. - -All need for anxiety, for haste, and for precaution was now at an end. - -It was only just eight o'clock. - -Sauntering leisurely through the garden, the King reached the palace -without meeting any one, on the way. Sometimes, on these occasions, he -ran into gardeners, early at work, a policeman, patrolling the walks, -or some member of the household staff; but such encounters never caused -him any anxiety. Why should not the King take a stroll in the garden, -before breakfast? Had he not been known to dive into the garden lake -for an early morning swim, and had not the fact been duly recorded in -all the newspapers? - -He entered the palace by the door through which he had escaped the -night before, and so, mounting the private staircase, which led up to -his own suite of rooms, regained his dressing room, unchallenged. - -The creation of a certain amount of necessary disorder in his bedroom, -and a partial undressing, were the work of only a few minutes. - -Then he rang his bell, for which, he was well aware, a number of the -palace servants would be, already anxiously listening. - -It was Smith, as the King had been at some pains to arrange, who -answered this, the first summons of the official, Royal day. - -"Breakfast in the garden, in half an hour, Smith," the King ordered. -"See about that, at once. Then you can come back, and get my bath -ready, and lay out the clothes." - -Another bath was welcome, and refreshing, after the dust, and the -excitement of the motor run. Smith's choice of clothes was a new, grey, -lounge suit, of most satisfactory cut, and finish. At the end of the -half hour which he had allowed himself, the King left the dressing -room, and passed down the private staircase, out into the sunlit -garden, with an excellent appetite for his second breakfast. - -The breakfast table had been placed on one of the lawns, in the green -shade thrown by a magnificent sycamore tree. A couple of gorgeously -clad footmen were responsible for the service of the meal but they -soon withdrew to a discreet distance. The unpretentious domestic life, -traditional for so many years, in the palace, had made it comparatively -easy for the King to reduce to a minimum the distasteful ceremony which -the presence of servants adds to the simplest meal. - -A few personal letters, extracted by some early rising member of -his secretarial staff, from the avalanche of correspondence in the -Royal post bags, had been placed, in readiness for the King, on the -breakfast table. One of these letters bore the Sandringham postmark, -and proved to be from his youngest sister, the Princess Elizabeth, who -was still, officially, a school girl. It was a charming letter. With -a frank and fearless affection, a spontaneous naïveté, that pleased -the King, the young Princess wrote to offer him her congratulations on -his Coronation, congratulations which, she confessed, she had been too -shy to voice in public, the day before. The letter touched the King. -He read it through twice, allowing his eggs and bacon, and coffee, to -grow cold, while he did so. There was a note of sincere feeling, of -genuine affection, of sisterly pride in him, mingled with anxiety for -his welfare, in the letter, which afforded a very agreeable contrast -to the subservience of the Family in general, which had so jarred upon -him, at the state banquet, the night before. This sister of his seemed -likely to grow up into a true woman, a loyal and affectionate woman. -She reminded him, in some odd way, of Judith. - -What would the future bring to this fresh, unspoilt, sister of his? "A -woman, a woman with a heart, at the head of the procession." Another -of Uncle Bond's phrases! What an insight the little man had into the -possibilities of positions, and situations, which he could only -have known in imagination, in the imagination which he wasted on the -construction of his grotesquely improbable tales! He must do what he -could for this fresh, unspoilt sister of his. That would be little -enough in all conscience! Meanwhile he could write to her, and thank -her for her letter. That was an attention which would please her. - -Producing a small, morocco bound, memorandum tablet, which he always -carried about with him, in his waistcoat pocket, the King made a note -to remind him to write to the Princess, in one of the intervals of his -busy official day. - -"Write to Betty." - -Then he resumed his attack on his eggs and bacon, and coffee. He did -not notice that they were cold. This letter of his sister's had turned -his thoughts to--the Family! - -He was the Head of the Family now. Somehow, he had hardly realized the -fact before. In the circumstances, it really behoved him, it would be -absolutely necessary for him, to try to get to know something about the -various members of the Family. His early distaste for Court life, his -absorption in his own chosen profession, his frequent absences at sea, -had made him, of course, little better than a stranger to the rest -of the Family. And, if they knew little or nothing about him, he knew -less than nothing about them. The Prince had been the only member of -the Family with whom he had had any real intimacy, since the far off -nursery days they had all shared together, the only link between him -and the others. And now the Prince was dead. - -This fresh, unspoilt sister of his would probably be worth knowing. -Any girl, who recalled Judith, must be well worth knowing. And there -was Lancaster! Lancaster was now, and was likely to remain, Heir -Apparent. And William? William had looked a very bright, and engaging -youngster, in his naval cadet's uniform, the day before. The others? -The others did not matter. But Lancaster, and William, and Betty, he -must get to know. And now, at the outset of their new relationship, he -had a favourable opportunity to take steps in the matter, which would -not recur. He could let them know that he was their brother, as well -as--the King! No doubt, they had their problems, and difficulties, just -as he had his. He would do what he could, to make life easy for them. -After all, it was quite enough that one member of the Family, at a -time, should be condemned to the intolerable isolation, and the dreary, -treadmill round of the palace. - -Might he not usefully begin, at once, with Lancaster? He could send a -message to Lancaster, asking him to join him, at his informal lunch, -at the palace, at noon. Lancaster had always seemed, to him, a dull, -rather heavy, conventional, commonplace person; but there might be -something human in him, after all. Perhaps, at an informal intimate -encounter, he might be able to establish some contact with him, and -get him to talk a little about himself. That would be interesting, and -useful. Yes. Lancaster should provide his first experiment in Family -research. - -Picking up his memorandum tablet again, from where he had dropped it on -the breakfast table, the King made another note, to remind him to send -the necessary message to Lancaster during the morning. - -"Send message to Lancaster." - -The fact that he was not sure whether Lancaster, or even William, would -still be in town, emphasized, in his own mind, his ignorance of the -Family. - -At this point, the gorgeously clad footmen approached the table. One -of them removed the used dishes and plates. The other placed a stand of -fresh fruit in front of the King. - -The King selected an apple, and proceeded to munch it like any -schoolboy. - -It was a good apple. - -After all, life had its compensations! - -And, he suddenly realized now, he was beginning to take hold of his -job, at last. This decision of his to tackle the Family, to get to -know them personally, was his own decision. It was an expression of -his own individuality, the exercise of his own will. The thought gave -him a little thrill of pride, and pleasure. Perhaps, after all, there -was going to be some scope, some freedom, for his own personality, -in his place in the procession, more scope, more freedom than he had -been inclined to think. His own shoulders, directed by his own brain, -might make a difference in the jostling in the market-place. If the -opportunity arose, he would put his weight into the scrimmage. - -The King finished his apple, and then filled and lit his pipe. - -The footmen cleared away the breakfast things. - -Soothed by tobacco, and cheered by the bright morning sunlight, the -King leant back in his chair. - -It was another wonderful summer day. Overhead the sky was a luminous, -cloudless blue. The sunlight lay golden on the green of the trees, -and on the more vivid green of the lawn. The garden flower beds were -gay with masses of brilliant hued blossoms. One or two birds whistled -pleasantly from the neighbouring trees and bushes. A fat starling -strutted about the lawn, digging for worms. - -A sense of general well-being stirred in the King, a sense of -well-being which surprised him, for a moment, but only for a moment. -It was always so, when he had been in Paradise, with Judith. Always he -returned to the palace refreshed, and strengthened, with a new zest -for, with a new appreciation of, the joy of mere living. Somehow, he -must see to it, that his--promotion--did not interfere with his visits -to Judith, and to Uncle Bond. He must see to it--in the interest of the -State! He smiled as the words occurred to him. In the interest of the -State? What would his fellow victims of the State, of the people, the -old Duke of Northborough, for example, say to that, if they knew? But -the words were justified. It was to the interest of the State that -he, the King, should obtain, from time to time, the refreshment, the -renewed strength, the zest, the sense of general well-being, of which -he was so pleasantly conscious now. - -But, meanwhile, in the interest of the State, he must not, he could -not afford to, waste any more of these golden, summer morning moments, -idling here in the garden. The avalanche of correspondence in the -post bags, and the official documents, and dispatches, which had -accumulated, during the last day or two, owing to the special demands -on his time made by the Coronation, were awaiting him in the palace. -Long hours of desk work lay before him. The thought did not displease -him. He was in the mood for work. Here was something he could put -his weight into. Here was an opportunity for individual action, and -self-expression, an opportunity for the exercise of his own judgment, -driving power, decision. - -Knocking out his pipe, the King stood up abruptly. - -Then, whistling gaily, an indication of cheerfulness which had grown -very rare with him, of late, he crossed the lawn, and re-entered the -palace, on his way back to duty. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - - -It was in the palace library, a large and lofty room on the ground -floor, with a row of tall windows overlooking the garden, that the -King spent his office hours. The library was strictly reserved for -his use alone. The secretaries, who served his personal needs, were -accommodated in a smaller room adjoining, which communicated with -the library by folding doors. Although he was compelled to maintain, -in this way, the isolation which was so little to his taste, it -was characteristic of the King, in his dealings with his immediate -subordinates, that he should take some pains not to appear too patently -the man apart. This was the way they had taught him in the Navy. On -more than one "happy ship," on which he had served, the King had learnt -that, to get good work out of subordinates, it was expedient to treat -them as fellow workers, and equals, as men, although graded differently -in rank, for the purposes of discipline, and pay. It was in more or -less mechanical application of this principle, that, still whistling -gaily, he chose now, to enter the library, not directly, but through -the secretaries' room adjoining. - -In the airy, sunny, secretaries' room, the low murmur of talk, and the -clatter of typewriters, which seem inseparable from office work, ceased -abruptly. There was a general, hurried, pushing back of chairs. Then -the half dozen men and women in the room rose, hastily, to their feet. -They had not expected to see the King so early. After the exhausting -Coronation ceremony of the day before, and the heavy demands on his -strength, which the day, as a whole, had made, they had expected him -to rest. And here he was, a little before his usual time, if anything, -buoyant, and vigorous, and laughing goodhumouredly at their surprise -and confusion, ready apparently to attack the accumulation of papers -which they had waiting for him. - -With a genial nod, which seemed to be directed to each man and woman -present, individually, the King passed quickly through the room, into -the library beyond, opening and shutting the intervening folding doors -for himself, with a sailor's energy. - -The secretaries, men and women alike, turned, and looked at each other, -and smiled. - -Although he was, of necessity, ignorant of the fact, the King had left -interested, and very willing fellow workers behind him. - -The library was almost too large, and too lofty a room to be -comfortably habitable. Worse still, in spite of its south aspect, and -its row of tall windows, the eight or nine thousand volumes, which -filled the wire fronted bookcases, which ran round two sides of the -room, it always seemed to the King, gave it a dead and musty air. These -books were for show, not for use. No one ever took them down from the -shelves. No one ever read them. The erudite, silver-haired, palace -librarian, himself, was more concerned with the rarities amongst them, -and with his catalogue, than with their contents. But the books, musty -monuments of dead men's brains, as he regarded them, were not the -King's chief complaint. A number of Family portraits, which usurped the -place of the bookcases, here and there, on the lofty walls, were his -real grievance. A queer feeling of antagonism had grown up between him -and these portraits. They always seemed to be watching him, watching -him, and disapproving of him. The mere thought of them sufficed to -check his good spirits, now, as he entered the library. As he sat down -at his writing table, he turned, and looked round at them defiantly. - -The writing table stood as close up to the row of tall windows, on -the south side of the library, as was possible. The windows, with -their pleasant view of the sunlit greenness of the garden, were on the -King's left, as he sat at the table. Straight in front of him were the -undecorated, black oak panels of the folding doors which led into the -secretaries' room. On his right on the north wall of the library, were -many of the books, and three of the portraits. - -First of all, there, in the corner by the folding doors, was a portrait -of his grandfather, in the Coronation robes, and full regalia, which he -himself had been compelled to wear, the day before; a strong, bearded -man, with a masterful mouth, which was not hidden by his beard. A -King. Further along, on the right, past several square yards of books, -hanging immediately above the ornate, carved, marble mantelpiece, in -the centre of the north wall, was a portrait of his father, in Field -Marshal's uniform, with his breast covered with decorations; a man -apart, isolated, lonely, remote, with a brooding light in his eyes. A -King, too. Then, past more books, in the furthest corner of the room, -by the door, came the portrait of his mother, a stately, commanding -figure, in a wonderful, ivory satin gown, marvellously painted. A -Queen. And a hard woman, hard with her children, and harder still with -herself, where what she had held to be a matter of Family duty had been -concerned. And, last of all, in the centre of yet more books, on the -east wall, behind him, was the portrait of his brother, the dead Prince -of Wales, a more human portrait this, to see which, as he sat at the -writing table, he had to swing right round in his revolving chair; the -Prince, in the pink coat, white cord riding breeches, and top boots, of -the hunting field, which had been his favourite recreation, leaning a -little forward, it seemed, and smiling out of the canvas with the smile -which had won him so much, and such well deserved popularity. - -All these had borne the Family burden, without complaint. All these had -accepted the great responsibility of their position, without question, -and even with a certain Royal pride. They had made innumerable, never -ending sacrifices. - -And he? An unwilling King? A half-hearted King? - -No wonder they disapproved of him! - -The King swung round, impatiently, in his chair, back to the writing -table again. - -An unwilling King, a half-hearted King, he might be; but, at any rate, -he could labour. He could put his full weight into his work. He could -show, in his own way, even if it was not the Family way, even if the -Family disapproved of him, that he, too, was a man, that he, too, had -individuality, force of character, driving power, decision-- - -Portfolios, and files, of confidential State documents had been -arranged, in neat piles, and in a sequence which was a matter of a -carefully organized routine, on the left of the writing table. On the -right stood a number of shining, black japanned dispatch boxes, and one -or two black leather dispatch cases, of the kind carried by the King's -Messengers. The "In" boxes for correspondence, in the centre of the -table, were filled with a formidable accumulation of letters. The "Out" -boxes, beside them, looked, at the moment, in the brilliant, morning -sunlight, emptier than emptiness. - -An almost bewildering array of labour saving devices, stamping, -sealing, and filing machines, completed the furnishing of the table. -These, the King swept, at once, contemptuously to one side. The -telephone instrument, which stood on a special shelf at his elbow, was -the only labour saving device he ever used. A plain, and rather shabby -fountain pen, and two or three stumps of coloured pencil, were the -instruments with which he did his work. It was not until he had found -these favourite weapons of attack, and placed them ready to his hand, -on his right, that he set himself to deal with the accumulation of -papers in front of him. - -The letters in the "In" boxes were his first concern. These he had -merely to approve, by transferring them to the "Out" boxes, ready for -posting. It was a transfer which he could safely have made, which he -very often did make, without reading a single letter. His personal -correspondence was in the capable hands of Lord Blaine, who had served -his father, as private secretary, for many years before him. But -this morning, in his new determination to find an outlet for his own -individuality, the King elected to read each of the letters through -carefully. Lord Blaine had acquired a happy tact, in the course of -his long experience, in answering the letters, from all sorts and -conditions of people, which found their way into the Royal post bags, -which was commonly considered beyond criticism. - -None the less, now, as he read the letters, a conviction grew upon the -King that not a few of the courtly old nobleman's phrases had become -altogether stereotyped. - -One letter, in particular, addressed to some humble old woman, in -a provincial almshouse, congratulating her on her attainment of a -centenary birthday, seemed to him far too formal. The old woman had -written a quaint, and wonderfully clear letter, in her own handwriting -to the King. Seizing his favourite stump of blue pencil, he added, on -the spur of the moment, two or three unconventional sentences of his -own, to Lord Blaine's colourless reply-- - - "I am writing this myself. I don't write as well as you do, do I? But - I thought you might like to have my autograph as one of your hundredth - birthday presents. This is how I write it-- - - "ALFRED. R.I." - -Laughing softly to himself the King tossed the letter, thus amended, -into one of the "Out" boxes. - -The little incident served to revive his previous good spirits. - -Lord Blaine would probably disapprove. - -But the old woman would be pleased! - -From the correspondence boxes, he turned, in due course, to the -portfolios and files on the left of the table. These contained reports, -and routine summaries from the various Government departments, copies -of official correspondence, one or two Government publications, and -certain minor Cabinet papers, and they required more concentrated -attention. He had to make himself familiar with the contents of the -various documents, and this involved careful reading. An abstract, or -a skilful précis, prepared by his secretaries, and attached to the -papers, occasionally saved his time and labour; but even these had to -be read, and the reading took time. Happily, here, as before, little or -no writing, on his part, was necessary. An initial, and a date, to show -that he had seen the document in question, a few words of comment, or -a curt request for more information, were the only demands made on his -blue pencil. - -Documents, and copies of correspondence, from the Foreign and Dominion -Offices, held the King's attention longest. To him these were not -"duty" papers, as were so many of the others. The place names, the -names of the foreign diplomats, and of the Dominion statesmen, and -administrators, which occurred in these papers, were familiar to him, -thanks to the many ports, and countries, the many men and cities, he -had seen in his varied naval service. Here and there, in these papers, -a single word would shine out, at times, from the typewritten page -in front of him, which conjured up, a vision, perhaps, of one of the -world's most beautiful roadsteads, or a mental picture of the strong -and rugged features of some man, who was a power, a living force, -amongst his fellows, in the wilder places of the earth, or a vivid -memory of the cool and spacious rooms of some Eastern club house where -men, who lived close to the elemental facts of life, gathered to make -merry, and to show unstinted hospitality to the stranger. Here he was -on sure ground. Here, he knew, his comments were often of real value. -He had seen the country. He had met, and talked with, the men on the -spot. Frequently, his knowledge of the questions raised in these papers -was quite as comprehensive, and as intimate, as that of the oldest -permanent officials in Whitehall. - -At the end of an hour and a half of hard and methodical work, the King -became suddenly aware that he had made considerable progress in his -attack on the accumulation of papers in front of him. - -Leaning back in his chair he touched a bell which stood on the table -beside him. - -The folding doors, leading into the secretaries' room, were immediately -opened, and a tall, fair, good looking young man, who was chiefly -remarkable for the extreme nicety of his immaculate morning dress, -entered the library, in answer to the summons. - -The King indicated the now full "Out" boxes, with a gesture, which -betrayed his satisfaction, and even suggested a certain boyish pride, -in the visible result of his labour. - -"Anything more coming in?" he enquired. - -"Not at the moment, I think, sir. The Government Circulations are -all unusually late this morning, sir," the tall young man replied, -approaching the table, and picking up the "Out" boxes for removal to -the secretaries' room. - -The King was filling his pipe now. He felt that he had earned a smoke. - -"Bought any cars, lately, Blunt?" he enquired, with a merry twinkle in -his eyes. - -He had suddenly realized that this was Geoffrey Blunt, the nominal -tenant of the garage in Lower Grosvenor Place, and the nominal -purchaser of the car housed there. - -Geoffrey Blunt laughed, and then blushed, as he became conscious of the -liberty into which the King had betrayed him. - -"We must organize one of our little incognito excursions, in the near -future, Blunt, I think," the King murmured, looking out through the -tall windows, on his left, at the sunny, morning glory of the garden. -"We will run out into the country." - -At the moment, his thoughts were in Paradise. Judith and the Imps, in -all probability, would be in the hayfields-- - -"You must be ready for a holiday, sir," Geoffrey Blunt ventured -to remark. "You took us all by surprise, this morning, sir. After -yesterday, we did not expect to see you, so early, this morning, sir." - -"No. And that reminds me of something I wanted to say," the King -replied, looking round from the windows, and speaking with a sudden, -marked change of manner. "I can see by the papers which you had waiting -for me, this morning, that you people have all been keeping hard at it -during the last day or two. I appreciate that. Tell your colleagues, in -the next room, that I expressed my appreciation. That is all now. Let -me see today's Circulations, when they do arrive. I do not want to be -faced with an accumulation of papers, like this morning's, again." - -Flushing with pleasure at this praise, Geoffrey Blunt bowed, and -withdrew, taking the "Out" boxes with him. - -The King smiled to himself as he lit his pipe. - -"But who is there to praise me?" he muttered. - -Leaning back in his chair, for a moment or two, he gave himself up to -the luxury of the true smoker's idleness. - -But had there not been something that he had meant to do, in any -interval of rest, like this, which might occur during the morning? - -The morocco bound memorandum tablet, which he produced from his -waistcoat pocket, answered the question-- - -"Write to Betty." - -"Send message to Lancaster." - -It was too late to send any message to Lancaster now. A couple of hours -was not sufficient notice to give him of an invitation to lunch. He was -not intimate enough with Lancaster to treat him in so offhand a manner. -It would be an abuse of his new position, a tactical mistake. The lunch -must be arranged for tomorrow. Crossing off his original note, he -scribbled another-- - - Lancaster to lunch tomorrow. See him, personally, this afternoon, or - this evening. - -But he could write to Betty! - -Clearing a space on the writing table, by pushing to one side the less -urgent documents and papers, which he had retained for subsequent -attention, he picked up his fountain pen; then, when he had found, -after some search, a sheet of note paper sufficiently plain and -unostentatious, to suit his taste, he began to write-- - - _Dear Betty_, - - Your letter this morning gave me great pleasure. I do not know that - there is very much pleasure in this business of being King-- - -But he got no further. - -The folding doors facing him were suddenly reopened. - -Then there entered, not Geoffrey Blunt, nor any other member of the -secretarial staff, but--the old Duke of Northborough. - -The King looked up with a surprise which at once gave place to a smile -of welcome. This was contrary to all etiquette. But he was glad to -see the old Duke. And it was in deference to his own repeated requests -on the subject that the veteran Prime Minister had lately consented -to make his visits to the palace, in working hours, as informal as -possible. - -Putting down his pipe, and his pen, the King stood up to receive the -old statesman. - -The Duke, as if to atone for the abruptness of his entry, paused for a -moment on the threshold of the large and lofty room, and bowed, with a -slightly accentuated formality. - -The folding doors behind him were closed by unseen hands. - -Then he advanced, into the room, towards the King. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - - -An unusually tall man, and a big man, with a breadth of chest, and a -pair of shoulders, which had made him conspicuous, in every assembly, -from his youth up, the Duke still held himself erect, and moved in a -big way. Now, as he advanced into the large and lofty room, the thought -came to the King, that here was a man for whom the room was neither -too large, nor too lofty. While he himself was apt to feel lost in the -library, overpowered by its size, and oppressed by the weight of its -inanimate objects, the Duke moved as if in his natural and fitting -surroundings. The force, the vigour, of the wonderful old man at once -relegated the huge room to its proper place in the background. The -effect was very much as if the library had been a stage scene, in which -the scenery had predominated, until this, the moment when a great actor -entered, and drew all eyes. - -It was characteristic of the Duke that he should be dressed with -a carelessness bordering on deliberate eccentricity. The roomy, -comfortable, sombre black office suit, which he was wearing, looked -undeniably shabby, and hung loosely on his giant frame. His head -was large. His hair, which he wore a little longer than most men, -snow-white now but still abundant, was brushed back from his broad -forehead in a crescent wave. His features were massive, and strongly -moulded. His nose was salient, formidable, pugnacious. His mouth -was wide. His lips had even more than the usual fulness common to -most public speakers. But his eyes were the dominant feature of his -face. His eyebrows were still black, thick, and aggressively bushy. -Underneath them, his eyes shone out, luminous and a clear blue, with -the peculiar, piercing, penetrative quality, which seems to endow its -possessor with the power to read the secret, unspoken, thoughts of -other men. - -"Enter--the Duke!" the King exclaimed, with an engagingly boyish smile, -as the veteran Prime Minister approached the writing table. "The Duke -could not have entered at a more opportune moment. I was just taking an -'easy.' Shall we stay here, or go out into the garden, or up on to the -roof?" - -"We will stay here, I think, if the decision is to rest with me, sir," -the Duke replied, in his sonorous, deep, and yet attractively mellow -voice. "I bring news, sir. As usual, I have come to talk!" - -"Good," the King exclaimed. "Allow me--" - -Placing his own revolving chair in position for the Duke, a little way -back from the writing table, as he spoke, he invited him to be seated, -with a gesture. - -Then he perched himself on the writing table, facing the old statesman. - -The Duke settled himself, deliberately, in the revolving chair, -swinging it round to the right, so that he could escape the brilliant, -summer sunshine, which was streaming into the room, through the row -of tall windows, on his left. His side face, as it was revealed now -to the King, wrinkled and lined by age as it was, had the compelling, -masterful appeal, the conspicuous, uncompromising strength, of an -antique Roman bust. - -"I had just begun a letter to my sister, the Princess Elizabeth, when -you came in," the King remarked, maintaining the boyish attitude, which -he could never avoid, which, somehow, he never wished to avoid, in the -Duke's presence. "It suddenly occurred to me, this morning, that I am -the Head of the Family now. I am a poor substitute for my immediate -predecessors, I am afraid." He looked up, as he spoke, at the portraits -on the opposite side of the room. "But I have decided that I must do my -best in my new command." - -The Duke looked up in turn. Following the King's glance, his luminous, -piercing eyes rested, for a moment or two, on the portraits. - -"None of your immediate predecessors were ever called upon to play so -difficult a part, as you have to play, sir," he said. - -Something in the Duke's manner, a note of unexpected vehemence in his -sonorous voice, arrested the King's wandering attention. - -His boyishness fell from him. - -"What is it?" he asked. "I remember, now, you said you brought news. Is -it--bad news?" - -"No. It is good news, sir. I could not bring you better news," the Duke -replied. "But, I am afraid, in spite of all my warnings, you are not -prepared for the announcement which I have to make." - -He paused there, for a moment, and looked away from the King. - -"The storm, which we have been expecting, for so long, sir," he added, -slowly, dwelling on each word, "is about to break." - -The King started, and winced, as if he had been struck. - -"The storm?" he exclaimed. - -"Is about to break, sir," the Duke repeated. - -There was a long, tense pause. - -Then, suddenly, the King laughed, a bitter, ironic laugh. - -"I have been a fool," he exclaimed. "In my mind, the glass was 'Set -Fair.' I had--forgotten--the storm! I was going to take hold of my job. -I was going to put my full weight into my work. I was even going to -cultivate the Family, as I was telling you--" - -He checked himself abruptly. - -"What is going to happen?" he asked. - -The Duke drew out his watch, an old-fashioned, gold-cased, half hunter, -and looked at it judicially. - -"It is now nearly eleven o'clock. In an hour's time, at twelve noon -precisely, a universal, lightning strike will take effect, throughout -the length and breadth of the country, sir," he replied. "All the -public services will cease to run. The individual workman, no matter -where, or how, he is employed, as the clock strikes twelve, will lay -down his tools, put on his coat, and leave his work. Such a strike -is no new thing, you will say. But this is no ordinary strike, sir. -Although whole sections of trades unionists, up and down the country, -we have good ground to believe, have no very clear idea, why they are -striking, although many of their local leaders appear to have been -deceived into the belief that the strike has been called for purely -industrial reasons, we have indubitable evidence that it is designed -as a first step in the long delayed conspiracy to secure the political -ascendency of the proletariat. A little company of revolutionary -extremists have, at last, captured the labour machine, sir. It is they -who are behind this strike. Behind them, I need hardly tell you, are -the Internationalists, and the Communists, on the Continent, ready, -and eager, to supply arms, ammunition, and money, if the opportunity -arises, on a lavish scale. - -"Although we have been expecting the storm for so long, this strike -form, which it has taken, I may confess to you, sir, has come to -us as something of a surprise. The strike leaders, I surmise, are -relying, very largely, on that surprise effect, for their success. -They imagine, they hope, no doubt, that they will find the Government, -elated and thrown off their guard by the success of the Coronation, -unprepared; that, in the chaos, which they believe must ensue, the -whole nation will be at their mercy; that, having demonstrated their -power, they will be able to dictate their own terms. What those terms -would be, sir, there can be no question. Internationalism. Communism. A -Republic. That persistent delusion of the fanatic, and the unpractical -idealist--the Perfect State. Armed revolt was their original plan, sir. -Thanks to the vigilance of our Secret Service Agents, that contingency -has, I believe, been obviated. But the Red Flag is still their symbol, -sir. In the absence of arms, a bloodless revolution appears now to be -their final, desperate dream. They will have a rude awakening, sir. In -less than twenty-four hours they will be--crushed! - -"You will remember the alternative, protective schemes, for use in -the event of a national emergency, which I had the honour to lay -before you, for your consideration, a few weeks ago, sir? One of those -schemes, the 'Gamma' scheme, is already in force. At a full meeting of -the Cabinet, held in Downing Street, this morning, sir, the immediate -operation of the 'Gamma' scheme, and the declaration of Martial Law, -on which it is based, were unanimously approved. The military, and -the naval authorities are already making their dispositions. By -this time, the Atlantic, the North Sea, and the Channel Fleets, will -be concentrating. The closing of all the ports, and the blockade -of the whole coast line, provided for in the scheme, will follow -automatically. The military authorities, you will remember, are to take -over the control of the railways, aviation centres, and telegraphic and -wireless stations, and support, and reinforce, the police, as required. -The Home Secretary assures me that the police can be relied upon -implicitly to do their duty. The Chief of the General Staff declares -that the Army, regrettably small as it is, is sufficient to meet all -the demands which are likely to be made upon it. Of the Navy, there -is no need for me to speak to you, sir. In the circumstances, I feel -justified in assuring you, that we have the situation well in hand." - -The Duke stood up. To him, the orator, the practised debater, speech -always came more easily, and naturally, when he was on his feet. He -turned now, and faced the King, towering head and shoulders above him, -a formidable, and dominating figure. When he spoke again, there was an -abrupt, compelling, personal note in his sonorous voice. - -"I want you to leave the palace, sir. I want you to remove the Court, -at once, into the country," he said. "Do not misunderstand me, sir. I -do not believe that your person is in any danger. I do not anticipate, -as I have already indicated, that we shall be called upon to meet armed -revolt. In any case, Londoners are proverbially loyal. But there will -be rioting, and window smashing, in places, no doubt. Something of the -sort may be attempted, here, at the palace. In the circumstances, it -will be as well, that you should be elsewhere. - -"In urging you to leave the palace, and to remove the Court into the -country, I have, too, another, and a more important motive, sir," he -continued. "It is, of course, a fundamental condition, a constitutional -truism, of our democratic monarchy, that the King must take no side. -How far that consideration must govern the King's actions, when his own -position is directly attacked, is a question which, I imagine, very -few of our leading jurists would care to be called upon to decide! -But I attach the very greatest importance to the preservation of your -absolute neutrality, in the present crisis, sir. When the impending -storm has spent its force, and the danger, such as it is, has subsided, -there will be a considerable body of people, up and down the country, -who will contend that the Government have acted precipitately, -unconstitutionally, and with wholly unnecessary violence. In meeting -such criticism, I wish to be able to emphasize the fact that the -Government have acted throughout on their own responsibility, on my -responsibility, without any reference to you at all, sir. I do not -propose to advance, on your behalf, the time-honoured excuse that His -Majesty accepted the advice tendered to him by his advisers. I propose -to emphasize the fact that you at once removed the Court into the -country, and took no part whatever in the suppression of the rebellion. -In the result, your position will be maintained inviolate, but you will -not share in the unpopularity, and the odium, which a demonstration -of strength inevitably, and invariably, evokes. This is why I said -that you have a more difficult part to play than any of your immediate -predecessors were ever called upon to play, sir. Although the battle is -joined, and you are so intimately concerned with its result, you will -have to stand on one side, and take no part in the conflict. And you -are a young man, and a high spirited young man. You will resent your -neutrality. - -"But I am the lightning conductor, sir! It is my duty, as I see it, -and I regard it as the honour of my life, to take the full shock of the -lightning flash, so that the Crown may remain on your head unshaken. -And the Crown will not only remain on your head unshaken. It will be -more firmly fixed there than before. In twenty-four, or forty-eight, -hours, at the most, sir, you will be more surely established on the -throne than any of your immediate predecessors. - -"That is why I said, at the outset, that this is good news which I have -brought you, sir; that I could not bring you better news. This is good -news, sir. Never have I dared to hope that the battle, which we have -been expecting so long, would be joined, at a time, and on ground, so -wholly favourable to the forces of law and order. I have no doubt of -the adequacy, and the smooth working of the 'Gamma' scheme, in the -existing crisis, sir. It will be many years, probably the whole of your -reign, perhaps a generation, before the revolutionary extremists in -this country recover from the overwhelming disaster towards which they -are rushing at this moment." - -It was then, and not until then, that the King slipped down from his -perch on the writing table to his feet. - -Instinctively, he turned to the row of tall windows, on his right. - -He wanted light. He wanted air. - -Outside, in the palace garden, the brilliant morning sunshine lay -golden on the green of the grass, and on the darker green of the trees. - -The whistling of a thrush, perched on a tree near the windows, seemed -stridently audible. - -Behind him, beside the writing table, the Duke stood, motionless, -silent, expectant. - -The magnetism for which the veteran Prime Minister was notorious, the -magnetism which he seemed to be able to invoke at will, had not failed -him, whilst he talked. For the time being, he had completely dominated -the King. But now, the King's own personality reasserted itself, with -all the force of a recoil. - -A bitter realization of his own impotence, of his own insignificance, -was the King's first personal thought. - -It was to be as he had feared, as he had always known, it would be. - -The battle was joined, the fight for his place in the procession was -about to begin, in the market-place, and he, the man most concerned, -was the one man who could not take a side. - -The Duke had gone out of his way to emphasize that fact. - -"I attach the very greatest importance to the preservation of your -absolute neutrality in the present crisis, sir." - -Neutrality! The most contemptible part a live man could play. - -"Fight for your place in the procession, Alfred." - -He was not to be allowed to fight. - -The decision whether he should fight for his place, step to one side, -or fall out, altogether, to the rear, had been taken out of his hands. - -The desire for self-assertion, for self-expression, which he had felt, -so strongly, only an hour or two previously, flamed up, hotly, anew, -within the King. An unwilling King, a half-hearted King, he might be; -but to be a nonentity, a man of no account-- - -The very workman, the individual workman, who--in less than an hour -now--as the clock struck twelve, would lay down his tools, put on his -coat, and leave his work, was of more account than he was! - -Ignorant, and deceived, as he might be, the individual workman, in -striking, would be asserting himself, expressing himself. - -And he? - -He could not even strike! - -If only he could have gone on strike! - -The fantastic idea caught the King's fevered fancy. It was in tune with -the bitter, wilful, rebellious mood which had swept over him. He could -not resist the temptation of giving it ironic expression. - -"It seems to me, if there is one man, in the whole country, who would -be justified in striking, in leaving his work, I am that man!" he -exclaimed. "I never wanted, I never expected to have to fill--my -present command. To be 'a sailor, not a Prince,' was always my idea. Do -people, do these people, who are coming out on strike, and hope to run -up the Red Flag, imagine that I get any pleasure, that I get anything -but weariness, out of--my place in the procession? If I followed my own -wishes now--I should strike, too! I should be the reddest revolutionary -of them all. Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity is their war cry, isn't -it? Those are the very things I want!" - -The Duke smiled grimly. - -"Where will you remove the Court, sir?" he asked. "To Windsor? Or to -Sandringham?" - -The King began to drum, impatiently, with his fingers, on the window -pane. - -The Duke's pointed impenetrability, his persistence, irritated him, at -the moment, almost beyond his endurance. - -Of course he would have to do as the Duke wished. The Duke was -the lightning conductor. He would have to fall in with the Duke's -suggestions. His suggestions? His orders! And yet-- - -Windsor? Sandringham? - -Windsor and Sandringham were merely alternative cells in the same -intolerable prison house! - -Perhaps it was the blithe whistling of the thrush perched on the -tree near the windows; perhaps it was the sunlit peace of the -palace garden--whatever the cause, the King thought, suddenly, and -irrelevantly, of Paradise. - -And then the irrelevance of his thought disappeared. - -A man was talking beside him. - -It was not the Duke. - -It was Uncle Bond. - -"Whether you fight for your place or not, whether you come out at the -head, or the tail, of the procession, wherever the head and the tail -may be, whether you step to one side, or fall out altogether, whatever -happens to you, my boy, Judith and I, will always be glad to welcome -you to the inn at the corner, and give you a seat at our window. You -will remember that!" - -A thrill of exultation ran through the King. - -Here, surely, was an opening, an opportunity, for the self-assertion, -the self-expression, which he so ardently desired! - -Where should he go, now that the time had come for him to step out of -the procession, but into Paradise, to Judith and to Uncle Bond, to -stand beside them, at their window, in the old inn, at the corner of -the market-place, the old inn, on the signboard of which was written in -letters of gold "Content"? - -If he must seek a rural retreat, an asylum, a city of refuge, what -better retreat could he have than Judith's and Uncle Bond's oasis, in -Paradise, where no strangers ever came? - -In this matter, at any rate, he could assert himself. - -In this matter, at any rate, he would have his own way. - -Swinging round from the windows, he fronted the Duke, flushed with -excitement wholly defiant. - -"I will leave the palace, at once, as you wish," he announced. "I have -no alternative, of course. I recognize that. But I shall leave the -Court behind, too! Neither Windsor, nor Sandringham, attract me. I -begin to feel the need of--a holiday. I shall run out into the country. -I have--friends in the country." - -He laughed recklessly. - -"This is my way of going on strike!" - -An odd, dancing light, which almost suggested a suddenly awakened sense -of humour, shone, for a moment, in the Duke's luminous, piercing eyes. - -But he pursed up his lips doubtfully, "It is a private, incognito -visit, that you are suggesting, I take it, sir?" he remarked. "In -the present crisis, such a visit would involve--serious risks. But, -I am bound to confess, that it would not be without--compensating -advantages!" His grim smile returned. "No one would know where you -were. And your departure from the palace, which must not be delayed, -would attract little or no attention. If you left the Court behind -you, as you propose, you would merely take one or two members of the -household staff with you, I presume?" - -"I shall take nobody with me. I shall go by myself," the King declared. - -Yes. In this matter, at any rate, he would have his own way. - -The Duke shot one of his keen, searching glances at the King. Then he -swung round on his heel, and paced slowly down the whole length of the -library. - -The King watched him, fascinated, curious, exalted. - -At the far end of the room, the Duke paused, turned, and retraced his -steps. - -His first words, as he halted, once again, beside the writing table -absolutely took the King's breath away. - -"I shall offer no opposition whatever to your reckless little -excursion, sir," he said. "I surprise you, sir? I hoped to surprise -you! But this is no time, there is no time, for--explanations. Reckless -as your proposal is, the more I think about it, the more conscious -I become of its many advantages. But, with your permission, sir, I -will attach two conditions to your--holiday." Again he smiled grimly. -"In the first place, I must know where you are going, so that I can -communicate with you, at once, when the need arises. In the second -place I will ask you to honour me with an undertaking that you will -remain in your rural retreat, until I have communicated with you." - -The King could hardly believe his own ears. That the Duke should -accept, should even express a guarded approval of his rebellion--that -was what his reckless proposal amounted to!--was wholly unbelievable. -It could not be true! - -A sudden sense of unreality, the consciousness, which had been so -frequently with him, of late, here in the palace, that he was living in -a dream, a wild, grotesque, nightmare dream, swept over the King. - -Of all the unreal scenes in his dream, this surely, was the most unreal! - -He had expected opposition, and argument. What he had wanted, he -realized now, was opposition and argument-- - -But he had gone too far to withdraw. And he had no wish to withdraw. At -any rate he would see Judith. He would see Uncle Bond. He would be--in -Paradise-- - -Without speaking, words at the moment, were quite beyond him, the King -drew up his revolving chair to the writing table, once again, and sat -down. Picking up the sheet of note-paper on which he had begun to write -to his sister--how long ago that seemed!--he tore off the unused half -of the paper, crumpling the other half up in his hand. Then he found -his pen, and wrote-- - - "James Bond Esq., - Mymm's Manor, - Mymm's Valley, - Mymms, - Hertfordshire." - -Turning in his chair, he handed the half sheet of paper to the Duke. - -"That will be my address. I shall stay there," he said. - -The Duke glanced at the paper, and then folded it up neatly, and -slipped it into his pocket. - -"You have no time to lose, sir," he said. "It is already nearly half -past eleven. Within half an hour, just before noon, all civilian -traffic, in and out of London, will cease. The police, and the military -will be in control in the streets. Barriers will be erected on all the -roads. Only Government traffic will be allowed to pass. You have time -to get away, but only just time." - -The King sprang up to his feet, and darted across the room. He was, all -at once, wild to get away, wild to get away from the Duke, from the -palace, from himself, from this unreal, grotesque, nightmare life of -his-- - -But, half way across the room, he paused, and swung round, and faced -the Duke yet once again. - -A sudden, belated twinge of compunction, a whisper of the conscience -which he had all this time been defying, had impelled him to think of -the Duke. - -"Am I letting you down, Duke?" he exclaimed impulsively. "After--all -you have done for me--I wouldn't let you down for worlds!" - -A smile, in which there was no trace of grimness, lit up the old Duke's -rugged, massive features. - -"Thank you, sir," he said. "You are not letting me down, sir. You can -enjoy your--reckless little excursion--with an easy mind. But I did not -like, and I do not like, your use of that ill-omened word 'strike,' -sir,--even in jest! Remembering the language of the Service, in which, -like you, I had the honour to be trained, I prefer to say that you -are--proceeding on short leave of absence, shall we say, sir? It will -only be a short leave of absence, sir. Twenty-four, or forty-eight, -hours, at the most. You will do well, I think, sir, to remember that!" - -Incredible as the whole scene was, there could be no doubt about the -old statesman's entire sincerity. The King's last fear, his last -scruple fell from him. In his relief he laughed aloud, lightheartedly. - -"Call it whatever you like, Duke," he exclaimed. "But, for me, it -is--my way of going on strike!" - -And with that, he turned, and darted out of the room. - -Left alone, the Duke remained motionless, for a minute or two. The -smile, which the King's impulsive ingenuousness had evoked, still -lingered on his lips; but his piercing eyes were clouded now, and heavy -with thought. - -Suddenly he turned to the writing table, and, picking up the telephone -instrument, took down the receiver. - -The whole manner of the man changed with this decisive little action. - -There was a curt, commanding, masterful ring in his sonorous voice, as -he gave his directions to the operator at the palace exchange. - -"The Duke of Northborough is speaking. I want Scotland Yard, and the -War Office, at once, in that order. You will give me 'priority.' Shut -out all other calls." - - - - -CHAPTER X - - -A feeling of light-hearted holiday irresponsibility, such as he had not -known for months, for years as it seemed to him, was with the King as -he darted out of the library. He raced along the palace corridors like -a schoolboy released from school. The palm and orange tree decorated -lounge, half vestibule, and half conservatory, from which ran the -private staircase leading up to his own suite of rooms, was his first -objective. He had intended to make a wild dash up to his rooms to -secure some sort of hat, and the dust coat, in which he usually escaped -from the palace. Happily, now, as he entered the lounge, his eyes were -caught by a tweed cap, which he wore sometimes in the garden, which -was lying on a side table, where he had tossed it, a day or two ago. -Laughing triumphantly, he picked up this cap, and crammed it down on -to his head. Then he darted out of the lounge, through the open glass -door, into the garden. - -In the garden, the air was heavy with the rich scents of the blossoming -shrubs and flowers. The brilliant morning sunshine struck the King, -as he hurried along the paths, with almost a tropical force. In spite -of the heat, as soon as he was sure that he was securely screened -by the shrubberies, he broke, once again, into a run. Lighthearted, -and irresponsible, as his mood was, he was conscious of the need for -haste. His running soon brought him, flushed, and panting a little, -but in no real distress, to the small, green painted, wooden door, in -the boundary wall, at the far end of the garden. Hurriedly producing -his keys, he unlocked the door, and swung it open. A moment later, as -the door, operated by its spring, closed behind him, he stood on the -pavement of Lower Grosvenor Place. - -Lower Grosvenor Place, as usual, was almost deserted. One or two chance -pedestrians were moving along the pavement. Immersed in their own -dreams and cares, they paid no attention whatever to the King. Higher -up the sunlit street, a grizzled, battered looking old Scotchman, -in tawdry Highland costume, was producing a dismal, droning wail on -bagpipes, in front of one of the largest of the tall houses, in the -hope, no doubt, that he would be given "hush money," and sent away, -before the arrival of life's inevitable policeman. - -After a quick glance up, and then down, the street, the King darted -across the road, turned into the familiar cul-de-sac on the other side, -and so passed into the secluded, shut-in mews at the back of the tall -houses. - -No one was visible in the mews, as the King unlocked, and opened, the -doors of Geoffrey Blunt's garage. A minute or two sufficed for him to -run out the car. Flinging on the thick, leather coat, and adjusting the -goggles, which lay ready to his hand, where he had tossed them that -morning, he re-locked the garage doors. Then he sprang up into his seat -at the steering wheel of the car, and started the engine. - -For one anxious moment, he feared that the engine was going to fail -him; but, next moment, it settled sweetly to its work, and the car shot -forward, out of the secluded mews, up the quiet, side street beyond, -and so into Grosvenor Place. - -In Grosvenor Place, the chance pedestrians who had been moving along -the sunlit pavement had passed on, out of sight, still immersed, no -doubt, in their own dreams and cares. The grizzled, battered looking -old Scotchman, in Highland costume, had just succeeded, apparently, -in extorting his "hush money." With his bagpipes tucked under his arm, -he was swaggering along now, in the centre of the road, his ruddy, -weatherbeaten, wrinkled face wreathed in smiles. - -The car caught up, and passed the triumphant old blackmailer in a cloud -of dust. - -A moment later, as he approached Hyde Park Corner, the King decided to -vary the route which he usually followed. With this end in view, he -swung the car sharply to the right, down Constitution Hill. At this -hour of the day, it occurred to him, Park Lane and Oxford Street, -his usual route, would be crowded with traffic. By running down -Constitution Hill, and out into, and along, the Mall he would probably -secure an open road, and so save several minutes. And every minute he -could save now, might be of vital importance later. - -The car had a clear run down Constitution Hill. In the Mall, the -Coronation flags still hung, flaunting and gay in the sunlight. The -stands, on either side of the road, from which the guests of the -Government had viewed the Coronation procession, the day before, were, -too, still in position. The Office of Works, at the moment, no doubt, -had far more important, and urgent enterprises on hand, than the -removal of flags, and the dismantling of stands. - -Sweeping along the Mall, and under the lavishly decorated Admiralty -Arch, the car ran out into Trafalgar Square, without a check. But here, -almost at once, the King had to pull up abruptly. The policeman, on -point duty, at the top of Whitehall, had his arm held out against all -eastbound traffic. Irritated by, and chafing under, the delay, the King -was compelled to apply his brakes, and run the car into position, in -the long queue of waiting vehicles, which had already gathered behind -the policeman's all powerful arm. - -A moment later, looking up from his brakes, as the car came to a -standstill, he became aware that he had pulled up immediately beneath -the equestrian statue of Charles the First. - -Here was an odd, an amusing--a superstitious man might even have said -an ominous--coincidence. - -Had not the storm which was about to break, broken before, long ago, in -this man's reign? - -And had not this man been engulfed by the storm? - -The King looked up at the statue with a sudden flash of quickened, -sober interest. - -Had not this man, alone, amongst all his predecessors been compelled to -drain the poisonous cup of revolution to the very dregs? - -There had been no lightning conductor, no Duke of Northborough, no -strong man, sure of himself, and of his purpose, ready, and eager, to -take the full shock of the lightning flash, in this man's day. - -But there had been. The Earl of Strafford. And Charles--Charles the -Martyr, did not some people still call him?--had torn his lightning -conductor down with his own hands. He had failed Strafford. He had -abandoned him to his enemies. With his own hand, he had signed -Strafford's, and so, in a sense, his own, death warrant. - -And he, himself--if this was an omen? - -He had not failed the Duke anyway. The Duke had assured him that he was -not letting him down. If he believed, for a moment, that he was failing -the Duke, he would turn round, even now, and go straight back to the -palace. - -But the Duke needed no man's support. - -There, at any rate, this man, fixed there, high above him, on -horseback, in imperishable bronze, against the clear blue of the -summer sky, had been more fortunate than he was. This man had never -known the bitterness of neutrality, of personal impotence, of personal -insignificance. This man had had a part to play, and he had played it, -not unhandsomely, at the last, they said. There was a jingle of some -sort about it-- - - "He nothing common did or mean - Upon that memorable scene." - -Nothing common or mean? Not at the last, perhaps. But, before the last, -in his failure of Strafford? - -Still, limited, narrow, and bigoted, as he was, this man had lived, and -died, for the faith that was in him. - -It had never occurred to him that he could go on strike. - -He had stood for, he had fought for, he had died for--the Divine Right -of Kings! - -The Divine Right of Kings? - -How grotesquely absurd the phrase sounded now! - -But was it any more grotesquely absurd than the opposition, the -counter-phrases, in praise of democracy, of the mob? - -The voice of the people is the voice of God. - -The same grotesque bigotry, the same fanatical intolerance, spoke there. - -Happily people were growing chary of using such phrases. They had been -too often used as a cloak to hide personal prejudices and passions, to -be trusted much longer. - -Still, perhaps, the band _was_ playing--somewhere-- - -At that moment, the King suddenly realized that the driver of the -taxi-cab, immediately behind him, in the queue of waiting traffic, was -performing a strident obligato on his motor horn, which indicated, -unmistakably, the violence of despair. Looking down with a start, he -became aware, that unnoticed by him in his reverie, the block in the -traffic had cleared, that the road lay open before him, and that he -was holding up the long line of vehicles behind him, by his absence of -mind, and consequent delay. - -The policeman on point duty smiled at him, reproachfully, as he -succeeded, at last, in catching his eye, and then waved him forward. - -Flushing with momentary annoyance, at the absurdity of his position, -the King hastily let out the car once again. - -The car leapt forward, swept round the square, and so passed into, and -up, Charing Cross Road, into Tottenham Court Road beyond-- - -The car was heading due north now, due north for Paradise-- - -The King's thoughts turned naturally and inevitably to Judith, and to -Uncle Bond. - -A difficult, and delicate problem, at once faced him. - -What was he to say to Judith, and to Uncle Bond? How was he to explain -to them his unprecedentedly early, his almost immediate, return to -their quiet haven? - -But that, he suddenly realized, with a shock, only touched the fringe -of his problem! - -Sooner or later, even in their peaceful retreat, Judith and Uncle Bond -would hear that the storm had broken. They would hear that Martial Law -had been proclaimed. Knowing that, they would know, Judith with her -knowledge of the Navy would know, that his place, as a sailor, was with -his ship. And that was not all. Had he not given their address to the -Duke? The Duke would be communicating with him-- - -His real identity would be revealed to Judith, and to Uncle Bond, at -last! - -His incognito would no longer serve him! - -Somehow, it had never occurred to him, at the time, what his giving of -their address to the Duke involved. Not only would his real identity be -revealed at last. His intimacy with Judith, and Uncle Bond would be no -longer a secret. The Duke had Uncle Bond's address. The Duke would soon -know all that there was to be known about Uncle Bond--about Judith-- - -Yes. He would have to tell Judith, and Uncle Bond, who he was, at once, -before they learnt who he was, from other lips than his. - -Without knowing it, he had burnt his boats; unwittingly, he had forced -his own hand. - -Would Judith and Uncle Bond believe him? Would they resent his -deception? Would the shadow thrown by his Royal rank mar the delightful -spontaneity of their intercourse, as he had always feared it would? It -could not be helped now, if it did! But, it seemed to him, that it need -not, that it should not. The unwavering friendship, of which Uncle Bond -had assured him, only that morning, would surely bear the strain? He -would take Uncle Bond at his word. - -"I have stepped out of my place in the procession, and come to join -you at your window, here in the quiet old inn of 'Content.' I want to -forget the fight in the market-place. Help me to forget it! Let us -forget the past, avoid looking at the future--what the future will -bring who can say?--and live, for the time being, in the present." - -Uncle Bond, and Judith--their astonishment at his real identity once -over, and their astonishment would be amusing!--would not refuse such -an appeal. - -After all, had it not always been their way, in Paradise, to live in -the present? - -Judith and he, at any rate, had always lived in the present. - -Judith! What would she think? What would she say? She would understand -his hesitation, his backwardness, his--apparent halfheartedness--now! -She would be generous. Judith? Judith would not fail him-- - -By this time, the car was running through one of the more popular -shopping districts in the inner suburbs. The shops on either side -of the sunlit road, were still gaily decorated. The pavements were -crowded. In the road, there was a good deal of traffic about, and the -King had to drive, for the time being, more circumspectly. The stalls -of an open air market provided an exasperating obstruction. Ultimately -he had to pull up, and wait for an opening. This necessity served to -recall him completely to his immediate surroundings. It was then, -while he waited, chafing with impatience at the delay, that he first -became aware that the police were abroad in unusual numbers. - -Impassive, and motionless, the police stood, in little groups, here -and there, in the crowd. The distance between one group, and the next -group, of the burly, blue uniformed men seemed to have been carefully -regulated. - -A sudden thrill of fear, which was not far removed from panic, ran -through the King. - -Were the police concentrating already in accordance with their secret -orders? - -It looked very much like it. - -He glanced hastily at his watch. - -It was nearly a quarter to twelve. - -Where were the barriers, of which the old Duke had spoken, likely to be? - -Here, or, perhaps, even further out, on the outskirts of the town, -almost certainly. - -And he had still to make good his escape! - -Hitherto he had never doubted that he would make good his escape. Now, -with the police already concentrating, and taking up their position in -the streets, he could be no longer sure that he would get away, in time. - -Fortunately, at that moment, the road, at last, cleared. The King -hastily let out the car once again. Then he opened out the engine, -recklessly, to its fullest extent. This was no time for careful -driving. The powerfully engined car did not fail him at his need. -Sweeping clear of the traffic immediately in front, it was soon rushing -along the level surface of the tramway track which led on, out into the -outer suburbs. - -In the outer suburbs, the traffic was lighter, and the police were much -less in evidence. But a convoy of motor lorries, which he rushed past, -in which he caught a glimpse of soldiers in khaki service dress, added -fuel sufficient to the already flaming fire of the King's anxiety. At -any moment, it seemed to him now, he might be called upon to halt, and -compelled to return, if he was allowed to return, ignominiously, to the -palace. - -But the barrier, drawn right across the road, with its little groups -of attendant police, and military, which he could see, so vividly, in -his imagination, did not materialize. The throbbing car rushed on, -through the outer suburbs, on past the last clusters of decorous, -red-tiled villas, on through the area of market gardens, where the -town first meets, and mingles with the country, on the north side of -London, and so out, at last, on to the Great North Road, unchecked, -and unchallenged. - -The broad high road stretched ahead, empty and deserted, in the -brilliant noon sunshine, as far as eye could see. - -The car leapt at the road like a live thing-- - -At last, the familiar, white-painted signpost, the Paradise-Hades post, -flashed into view on the left of the road. - -It was then, and not until then, that the King slowed down the car. - -A great wave of relief, which told him how tense his anxiety had been, -swept over him. - -He looked at his watch. - -It was some minutes past noon now. - -Already, behind him, in the town, the storm had broken. Already the -blow had fallen. - -But this was Paradise. - -He had escaped. - -He was safe. - -He was free. - -All about him lay the sunlit, peaceful countryside. The hedges, on -either side of the broad, winding road, were white with the blossoms of -the wild rose. Beyond the hedges, stretched the open fields, a vivid, -but restful, green in the bright noon light, broken, here and there, -by clumps of tall trees, and rising, in a gradual, gracious curve to -thickly wooded heights on the skyline. - -A few cattle lay, motionless, on the grass, in the shade of the trees. - -A young foal, startled by the passing of the car, scrambled up on to -his long legs, and fled, across the fields, followed, more sedately, by -his heavy, clumsy, patient mother. - -One or two rabbits scuttled into the hedge, with a flash of their white -bob-tails. - -High up, clear cut against the cloudless blue of the sky, a kestrel -hovered. - -Yes. This was Paradise, unchanged, unchanging-- - -Soon the familiar turning into the narrow, tree shadowed lane, on the -left of the road came into view. Swinging into the lane, the King -slowed down the car yet once again, partly from habit, and partly -because of his enjoyment of the summer beauty all about him. - -He had plenty of time now. - -He laughed recklessly at the thought. - -He had all the time there was! - -Was he not--on strike--taking a holiday? - -At the house, at the bottom of the lane, the carriage gate, as usual, -stood wide open. - -The King drove straight up the drive, where the rhododendron bushes, -and the laburnum trees were ablaze with colour, and, round the side of -the house, into the garage. - -No one was visible in the garden, about the house, or in the -outbuildings beyond. - -In the silence which followed his shutting off of the engine of the -car, he heard the whir of haycutting machines. - -They were haymaking, of course. - -Judith herself, who, far more than Uncle Bond, was really responsible -for the management of the Home Farm, would be at work in the fields, -holding her own with the best of them, in spite of the clamorous -demands of the Imps for play. - -If Judith, and the Imps had been in the house, they would have run out -to welcome him by now. - -Flinging off his leather coat, his cap, and his goggles, the King -tossed them, one after the other, into the car. Then he sauntered round -the side of the house, to the front door. - -All the doors, and windows in the house stood wide open. - -No one appeared to receive him. - -For a moment or two the King lingered, irresolutely, on the verandah -beside the front door. - -What should he do? In all probability, the whole household were at work -in the hayfields. Should he go and find them there? No. Judith would -be astonished to see him. She might betray her astonishment. In the -circumstances it would be as well that his meeting with Judith should -have as few eye-witnesses as possible. - -But Uncle Bond would be in. Had he not declared that "Cynthia" would be -good for five or six thousand words that day? The little man would be -upstairs, hard at work, in his big, many-windowed writing room. Dare he -break in upon Uncle Bond's jealously guarded literary seclusion? It was -a thing which he had never ventured to do. It was a thing which Judith -herself rarely cared to do. But, after all, this was an exceptional -day, if ever there was an exceptional day! Now that he came to think -about it, it would be a good thing if he could see Uncle Bond, in his -capacity of "heavy father," before he saw Judith. Strictly speaking was -it not to Uncle Bond, as his host, that his announcement of his real -identity, and his explanations, and his apologies were first due? - -With a sudden flash of determination, in which a semi-humorous, boyish -desire to face the music, and get it over, played a large part, the -King entered the house. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - - -Within the sunny, airy house there was absolute silence, and perfect -stillness. The King crossed the broad, square hall, a pleasant retreat, -with its gaily coloured chintz covered chairs, and ottoman, its piano, -its bookcases, and its big blue bowls, full of roses, and passed -straight up the glistening white staircase, which led to Uncle Bond's -quarters on the upper floor. At the head of the staircase, he turned -to his left, down a short corridor, in which stood the door of Uncle -Bond's writing room. On reaching the door, he paused, for a moment or -two, very much as a swimmer pauses, on the high diving board, before he -plunges into the deep end of the swimming bath. Then, smiling a little -at his own nervous tremors, he knocked at the door, and, opening it -without waiting for any reply, entered the room. - -The writing room in which Uncle Bond spent his working hours extended -along the whole breadth of the house. One side of the room, the side -directly opposite to the door, was almost entirely made up of windows, -which commanded an uninterrupted view of the garden, and beyond the -garden, of a superb sweep of the surrounding, thickly wooded, park-like -country. The three other sides of the room were covered with a plain, -grey paper, and were bare of all ornament. No pictures, no bookcases, -and no pieces of bric-à -brac were displayed in the room. This complete -absence of decoration gave a conspicuous, and most unusual, suggestion -of emptiness to the whole interior. None the less, with many of the -windows wide open, and with the brilliant, summer sunshine streaming in -through them, the room had a charm, as well as a character of its own. -Above all else, it was a man's room. There was space in which to move -about. There was light. And there was air. - -Uncle Bond was seated, at the moment the King entered, at a large -writing table, which stood in the centre of the room, with his back to -the door, busy writing. - -The King closed the door quietly behind him, and then halted, just -inside the room, and waited, as he had seen Judith do in similar -circumstances. - -Uncle Bond did not look round but went on writing. - -Clearly a sentence, or a paragraph, had to be finished. - -Uncle Bond's writing table was bare and empty like the room in which -it stood. The blotting pad on which the little man was writing, a neat -pile of completed manuscript on his left, and a packet, from which he -drew a fresh supply of paper as he required it, which lay on his right, -were the only objects visible on the table. No paraphernalia of pen and -ink was in evidence. Uncle Bond worked in pencil. No inkstand, or pen, -invented by the wit of man, could satisfy him. - -A small table, in the far corner of the room, on the right, on which -stood a typewriter, an instrument of torture which the little man -loathed, and rarely used, a large sofa, placed under, and parallel -with, the windows, and another table, on the left, which appeared to -be laid for a meal, with two or three uncompromisingly straight backed -chairs, completed the furnishing of the room. - -This was a workshop: a workshop from which all the machinery and tools -had been removed. - -Uncle Bond wrote swiftly. He had a trick of stabbing at the paper in -front of him, with his pencil, periodically, which puzzled the King. -Ultimately it dawned upon him that this was probably merely Uncle -Bond's method of dotting his i's, crossing his t's, and putting in his -stops. This supposition appeared to be confirmed, presently, when, with -a more energetic stab than usual which marked, no doubt, a final full -stop, the little man finished writing. - -Uncle Bond wore, when at work, a pair of large, tortoiseshell framed -spectacles, which gave a grotesque air of gravity to his round, double -chinned, clean-shaven face. He turned now in his chair, and looked at -the King, for a moment, over the rims of these spectacles. Then he -sprang up to his feet, snatched off his spectacles, and darted across -the room to the table on the left, which appeared to be laid for a meal. - -"A whole chicken--cold! A salad. A sweet, indescribable, but -glutinous, pink, and iced. We shall manage," the little man crowed, -as he uncovered a number of dishes on the table, and peered at their -contents. "My dear boy, I am delighted to see you. For the last half -hour, I have been thinking about lunch, but I disliked the idea of -feeding alone. I am, as you have probably already discovered, by -myself in the house. Judith and the Imps are picnicking in the hay -fields. The servants are all in the fields. Judith hopes to cut, and -cart, the Valley fields today. 'Cynthia' and I have had the house to -ourselves all morning. We have achieved wonders. I told you 'Cynthia' -would function today, didn't I? She is at the top of her form. We are -already level with the time-table, and she is still in play. But we -shall need some more knives and forks, a plate or two, and a bottle--a -bottle decidedly! A light, sparkling, golden wine. A long necked bottle -with the right label. I will go downstairs, and forage. You haven't had -lunch, I suppose?" - -The King smiled, in spite of himself. - -This was not the reception that he had anticipated. - -"No. I have not had lunch, Uncle Bond," he admitted. - -"Good!" the little man chuckled. "You must be hungry. I am. And you -look tired. You can pull the table out, and find a couple of chairs, -while I am away, if you like. Glasses--and a corkscrew!" - -He moved, as he spoke, towards the door. - -But, by the door, he paused. - -"By the way, Alfred, there is a book on the window sill, beside the -sofa, which may interest you," he remarked. - -Then he darted out of the room-- - -Mechanically, the King crossed the room to the luncheon table. - -The table was most attractively arranged. No doubt Judith herself had -seen to Uncle Bond's meal, before she had left the house, with the -Imps, for the hayfields. A bowl of Uncle Bond's favourite roses, in the -centre of the table, seemed to speak of Judith's thoughtfulness, and -taste. No servant would have laid the table quite like this. - -Beyond pulling the table out into the room, nearer to the windows, and -placing a couple of chairs in position beside it, there was really -nothing that he could do in preparation for the meal, pending Uncle -Bond's return with the additional knives and forks, and plates which -would be necessary. - -A minute or two sufficed for this readjustment of the furniture. - -Then the King turned to the windows, attracted by the sunlight, and the -fresh air. - -How easily, and naturally things--happened--here in Paradise! - -Uncle Bond had accepted his unprecedentedly early, his almost -immediate return, without question, or comment. - -Uncle Bond, and Judith, always accepted him like that, of course. - -But, today, it seemed strange! - -The scene which he had visualized between Uncle Bond and himself had -not opened like this at all. He had meant to astonish Uncle Bond, at -the outset, by his disclosure of his real identity. He had looked -forward to astonishing Uncle Bond, he realized now, in spite of his -nervous tremors, with real enjoyment. It was he, and not Uncle Bond, -who was to have dominated this scene. He was like an actor whose big -scene had failed. Somehow he had missed his cue. - -One thing was certain. His announcement, his disclosure, of his real -identity must be no longer delayed. Somehow he could not bear to think -of accepting Uncle Bond's joyous hospitality, of eating his salt, -without first confessing his past deception, and receiving the little -man's forgiveness and absolution. It was odd that his conscience should -have become suddenly so sensitive in the matter. His feeling was quite -irrational, of course-- - -But how was he to make his announcement? It was not the sort of thing -that could be blurted out anyhow. He would have to lead up to it -somehow. - -"I am, or rather I was, until twelve noon, today--the King! Now I -am--on strike--taking a holiday!" - -How wildly absurd it sounded! - -Such an announcement, however skilfully he led up to it, would carry -no conviction with it. Uncle Bond would not, could not be expected to -believe him. - -Somehow, here in Paradise, he hardly believed in it himself! - -The fact was his dual life, the two distinct parts which he had played -for so long, had become too much for him. Hitherto, he had been able -to keep the two parts, more or less distinct. Now he was trying to -play both parts at once. It was a mental, it was almost a physical, -impossibility. - -"Alfred," "my boy," the sailor who had just been given promotion, the -sailor who served the King, never had been, and never could be--the -King. - -He was a real man, alive, breathing, and thinking, at the moment, here, -in the sunlight, by the windows. - -The King whom the old Duke of Northborough addressed as "Sir," the King -who lived in the palace, guarded night and day by the soldiery and the -police, the King who had, at last, asserted himself recklessly, gone on -strike, taken a holiday--he was a mere delusion, a dream. - -But the real part, the better part, had now to be dropped. - -Fate, chance, circumstances over which he had had no control, had -decided that. - -Yes. "Alfred," "my boy," was gasping for life, taking a last look at -the green beauty of the sunlit, summer world, now, here at the windows-- - -The King shook himself, impatiently, and turned from the windows. - -His position was trying enough, as it was, without his indulging in -imaginary morbidity! - -As he turned, his eyes were caught by an open book, which lay on the -window sill, beside the sofa, on his right. - -Had not Uncle Bond said something about a book, a book on the window -sill, beside the sofa, a book that might interest him? An uncommon book -that! He was no reading man, as Uncle Bond knew well. But it might be a -copy of the little man's latest shocker-- - -Welcoming the distraction, the King advanced to the sofa, and picked up -the book. - -In the centre of the right-hand page of the open volume a couple of -sentences had been heavily scored in pencil. - -The King read these words-- - - "Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has - been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried - it; and they cut the rope." - -It was a moment or two before the King's brain registered the sense of -the words. - -He read the sentences a second time. - -Then he turned, mechanically, to the title page of the book-- - - "The French Revolution, a History. - "by Thomas Carlyle." - -Suddenly, with the open book still in his hand, the King sank down on -to the sofa. - -This could not be chance. This was not a coincidence. This was no -accident. - -Uncle Bond had called his attention to the book--a book which might -interest him! It was Uncle Bond's pencil which had scored these -sentences, so apposite to his own position, so heavily. Uncle Bond -must have left the book, open at this page, on the window sill, -deliberately. - -The inference was unmistakable. - -Uncle Bond knew who he was! - -And that was not all. - -Uncle Bond must know something, at least, about the existing crisis! - -A storm of clamorous questions jostled each other in the King's brain. - -How did Uncle Bond know? How long had he known? And Judith--did Judith -know, too? Why had Uncle Bond chosen this particular moment, and this -particular way, to reveal his knowledge? Had the little man's uncanny, -unerring instinct told him that he himself was about to reveal his real -identity, at last? - -No. That was impossible. - -Uncle Bond had marked the sentences, and placed the book on the window -sill, before he himself had entered the room. - -And he had had twinges of compunction, nervous tremors, about the -deception which he had practised. - -He laughed contemptuously at himself. - -Clearly, it was he himself, and not Uncle Bond, not Judith, who had -been deceived-- - -At that moment, Uncle Bond's returning footsteps, in the corridor, -outside the room, became audible. - -Uncle Bond entered the room carrying a tray which was loaded with -silver, and cutlery, glasses and plates, and the longnecked bottle -which he had promised. He shot a shrewd glance at the King, as he -crossed the room to the luncheon table; but he set down his tray, on -the table, without speaking. - -For a moment, the King hesitated. Then he sprang up, impulsively, to -his feet, and advanced to the table. Holding out the open book, which -he had retained in his left hand, towards Uncle Bond, he tapped it with -his right forefinger. - -"You know who I am, Uncle Bond?" he challenged. - -Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly. - -"I do," he acknowledged. "Get the cork out of that bottle, my boy. I've -got to carve the chicken." - - - - -CHAPTER XII - - -"A climax is always a difficult business to handle," Uncle Bond -continued, sitting down at the table and beginning his attack on -the cold chicken. "It is easy enough to work up to. 'Cynthia' never -has any trouble in getting in the necessary punch at the end of -her instalments. But to carry on, after the punch, to get the next -instalment going--that is a very different affair. In nine cases out -of ten, that gives even 'Cynthia' herself a lot of trouble. My dear -boy, put down that admirable volume--it is in your left hand!--and, I -repeat myself, get the cork out of that bottle! I know you are quite -unconscious of the fact, but your attitude, at the moment, is most -distressingly wooden." - -The King came to himself with a start. - -"I beg your pardon, Uncle Bond," he stammered, blushing like a -schoolboy. - -Laying "The French Revolution, A History, by Thomas Carlyle," down -on the table, he picked up the longnecked bottle, and got to work, -hurriedly, with the corkscrew. - -He was, suddenly, very glad to have something to do. - -"Fortunately for us, my boy, you and I can control the development of -this scheme," Uncle Bond went on, busy with the carving knife and fork. -"It occurs to me, by the way, that I am destined to play the part of -general utility man in our--comedy. I can see no immediate opening for -the knockabout comedian. A touch of the heavy father may be possible -later on. But, meanwhile, explanations are necessary. Obviously that -involves the general utility man in the part of 'Chorus.' Strictly -speaking, I suppose I ought to address you in blank verse. I will spare -you that. One of the old dramatic conventions about the 'Chorus' it -seems to me, however, is likely to suit you. 'Chorus' enters solus. You -can leave the stage to me--" - -At that moment, the cork in the longnecked bottle came away, -unexpectedly, as is the habit of corks. - -The King filled the glasses on the table with the light, sparkling, -golden wine. - -"Good!" Uncle Bond crowed. "Now you can sit down, and--sink out into -the back-cloth. On the other hand, if you prefer to remain on the -stage, a glass of wine is useful stage business." - -The King sat down at the table opposite to Uncle Bond. - -At the moment, bewildered and almost dazed as he was, he felt very much -like a theatrical super, assisting at a stage meal. - -"I am giving you a wing, Alfred. No breast!" Uncle Bond continued, -proceeding to portion out the dismembered chicken. "My action is -symbolical. This is between ourselves, and outside our stage play! -There are not many places where they give you the wing of the chicken, -are there? You will continue to be given the wing of the chicken -here. You will continue to be received here, as you are received -nowhere else. Our friend Alfred will find no change, in his reception -here--whatever happens. You are reassured, I hope? Your worst fears -are stilled? Good! Help yourself to salad. And try the wine. I can -recommend it!" - -The King took the plate of chicken which the little man held out to -him, and helped himself to salad, mechanically. This commonplace -routine of the meal served to steady him. In some measure reassured -by Uncle Bond's whimsical symbolism, he was relieved to find that he -could eat. - -Uncle Bond helped himself from the salad bowl in turn, tried the wine, -and then settled down, happily, to the meal, which he had been so -unwilling to essay alone. But the play of his knife and fork, energetic -as it was, did not interfere, for long, with his talk. - -"And now to resume our comedy!" he chuckled, in a minute or two. -"Between ourselves, my boy, I am enjoying the present situation -enormously. But 'Chorus' explanations are necessary, and cannot wait. -Therefore-- 'Enter Chorus!' - -"I have known who you were almost, if not quite, from the first, -Alfred. Judith knew you first, of course. Judith recognized you at -sight. My dear boy, how could you imagine that it could be otherwise? -Have you ever considered the possibilities of the case? - -"Judith was born in the Navy. For years she lived in the Navy. She -married into the Navy. Of course, she knew 'Our Sailor Prince.' As -likely as not his photograph has adorned her mantelpiece ever since the -far-away days when she was a romantic schoolgirl. 'Cynthia's' romantic -schoolgirls, at any rate, are always like that! - -"And I myself? Am I not a member of many clubs? 'Alfred York' was -hardly likely to be an impenetrable incognito with me, was it? Wherever -you go, too, although you are so strangely unconscious of the fact, you -carry about with you a historic face! - -"But, even if Judith and I had had no special knowledge, even if we had -been lacking in penetration, it seems to me that we must, infallibly, -have recognized you, sooner or later. Have you not been, in recent -months at least, the most bephotographed young man in Europe? I do not -suggest that the picture papers are Judith's, or my, favourite reading. -But we have a cook. Do you think that we could keep a cook, who can -cook, here, in the country, if we did not supply her with her daily -copy of the 'Looking-Glass'? Sooner or later, it seems to me, Judith -or I must have taken a surreptitious peep into the kitchen copy of the -'Looking-Glass,' and so seen, and recognized, our friend Alfred in the -pictured news of the day." - -At this point, the turmoil within the King, surprise, bewilderment, and -self-contempt, the latter predominating, became altogether too much for -him. He quite forgot the necessary silence of the stage super. - -"I feel a most unmitigated fool, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed. - -"Exit, Chorus!" Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly. "Slow music-- Enter -the Hero of the Piece! You were about to say?" - -"I don't know what I was going to say," the King muttered -uncomfortably, with his eyes on his plate. "I know what I was going to -say before you--took the wind out of my sails. I was all ready with a -speech. I had two speeches ready." - -"It is a pity that they should be wasted," Uncle Bond remarked. "Get -them off your chest, my boy. They will probably serve more than one -useful purpose. Apart from anything else, they will give me a chance to -get on with my lunch. You have got rather ahead of me, I observe. Take -which ever comes first. The slow music dies away--the Hero of the Piece -speaks--" - -The King fingered his wineglass nervously. He wanted to put himself -right with Uncle Bond. He wanted to tell him that he had meant to -reveal his real identity himself, that he had meant to apologize for -the deception he had practised. He wanted to rehabilitate himself in -his own eyes. - -"I was going to tell you--who I am, myself, Uncle Bond," he began -lamely. "I was going to reveal my real identity at last. I was going to -apologize to you for my deception, and ask for your--absolution. - -"'I am, or rather was, until twelve noon today--the King! Now I am--on -strike--taking a holiday--' That was to have been my first speech!" - -Uncle Bond started, and shot a surprised glance at the King. - -Engrossed in his own thoughts, and still fingering his wineglass -nervously, the King did not notice the little man's movement. - -"I hardly expected you to believe me. I did not see how you could -possibly believe me," he went on. "I counted on astonishing -you--astonishing you!--and Judith. I looked forward to astonishing -you." He laughed contemptuously at himself. "I thought that your -astonishment would be amusing. This was to have been my scene, not -yours. That is partly why--I feel such a fool!" - -He was silent for a moment or two. - -Uncle Bond made no comment, but plied his knife and fork vigorously. - -"When you believed me, when you had recovered from your astonishment, -and had forgiven my deception--I knew you--and Judith--would forgive -me," the King continued, "I was going to make my second speech. You -remember our talk, this morning, about the procession? That seems years -ago, now, somehow, doesn't it? In my second speech, I was going to take -you at your word about--the procession. - -"'I have stepped out of my place in the procession, and come to join -you at your window, here, in the quiet old inn of "Content." I want -to forget the fight in the market-place. Help me to forget it! Let us -forget the past, avoid looking at the future--what the future will -bring, who can say?--and live for the time being in the present!' That -is what I was going to say. It seemed to me that you--and Judith--would -not be able to resist an appeal like that. Here, in Paradise, we have -always lived in the present, haven't we?" - -Uncle Bond put down his knife and fork. - -"Very pretty!" he chuckled. "I can understand your disappointment, my -boy. There was good stuff in your scene. I am glad we have contrived to -work in--both your speeches. They are--illuminating. More chicken? A -slice of the breast--now? No. Then advance the sweet. And refill the -glasses. You approve the wine? Good! Once again I resume my part of -'Chorus.' - -"As 'Chorus' allow me to recall your attention to Thomas Carlyle, my -boy," he went on, proceeding to serve the sweet. "I am rather proud of -that little bit of stage business. 'Cynthia' herself, I flatter myself, -could hardly have hit anything neater. How does the quotation run? - -"'Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has -been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried -it; and they cut the rope.' - -"It got you--that quotation, my boy,--didn't it? It was meant to get -you. I knew your announcement, your confession, would give you trouble. -Out of pure good nature--or was it malice?--I anticipated it." - -"But how did you know I was going to make my confession?" the King -exclaimed, suddenly remembering his previous bewilderment on the -subject. - -"Thank you, my boy," Uncle Bond chuckled. "I manÅ“uvred, clumsily I -fear, for that very question. There is, perhaps, something inherently -clumsy in this device of the 'Chorus.' Hence, no doubt, its banishment -from the modern stage. I did not know, I could not know, for certain, -that you would make your confession. But your confession seemed to me -to be inevitable. Or, if not inevitable, necessary. Perhaps I wished -to make sure of, as well as help you to, your confession. I must warn -you that I have another little surprise saved up for you, my boy. But I -will hurry to the end of my explanations. I do so the more readily as I -am eager to demand an explanation from you, in turn. - -"Paradise, although personally I am careful to suppress the fact as -much as possible, is on the telephone. Judith finds it necessary to -talk to the Stores! This morning, while 'Cynthia' and I were hard at -it, the telephone bell rang violently. The instrument, by the way, is -in the pantry. I ignored the summons. I hoped the girl at the Exchange -would soon grow weary. She persisted. In the end, 'Cynthia' retired -hurt, and I descended the staircase. - -"A wonderful instrument! Not the telephone. The human voice. There are -voices which rivet the attention at once--even on the telephone. This -was one of them-- - -"'Northborough is speaking. Is that you Bond? Alfred York is -motoring down to see you. He is on his way now. You can put him up -for twenty-four, or forty-eight, hours, I suppose? If you get the -opportunity, you can tell him, when he arrives, that everything is -proceeding in accordance with plan.'" - -"You know the Duke of Northborough?" the King gasped. - -"Thanks to you, my boy, yes," Uncle Bond chuckled. "Note in passing, -that I--with the assistance of Thomas Carlyle--have created an -opportunity to tell you that--'everything is proceeding in accordance -with plan!' But we must really finish this sweet. No more for you? -Another glass of wine, then? You will find that the bottle will run to -it, although those long necks are deceptive." - -Mechanically, the King filled the wineglasses once again. - -For a minute or two, there was silence while Uncle Bond made short work -of the remnant of the sweet which the King had refused to share. - -This accomplished the little man leant back in his chair. - -"When Alfred York, the young and reckless sailor, whose friendship -Judith and I have learnt to value so highly in recent months, first -showed an unmistakable desire to establish an intimacy with us, I saw -no reason why I should--discourage his visits," Uncle Bond resumed -with a mischievous chuckle. "Who, and what, our friend Alfred might be -elsewhere, how he might fill in his--spare time--elsewhere, it seemed -to me--need be--no concern of ours. These were matters to which he -never referred. Judith and I might have our own ideas on the subject, -we might even have knowledge which he never suspected; but until he -spoke, it seemed to me, that there was--no necessity--for us to speak. -Our friend Alfred obviously valued the hospitality which we were so -glad to offer him. That was enough for us. - -"But things happen. The curse, and the charm, of human life in two -words--things happen! - -"When our friend Alfred suddenly became earmarked for--promotion--high -promotion--I had to admit to myself that the situation was, at once, -materially changed. So long as our friend Alfred was a person of -only--minor importance--his visits to us might, it seemed to me, fairly -be considered--merely his own affair, and ours. But when he became a -person of--the first importance--of the first importance in greater -issues than he appears, as yet, to have realized, his frequent visits -here involved me--in a grave responsibility, to which I could not shut -my eyes. A reckless young man, our friend Alfred. He did incredible -things. He took amazing risks. I had to reconsider the whole position. -I will not trouble you with an analysis of my conflicting motives. -Ultimately I took action. I wrote a letter. - -"It was plain James Bond who wrote that letter--just as it is plain -James Bond who is speaking at this moment. Somehow, he seems to have -lost sight of his part of 'Chorus'! 'Cynthia' did not contribute a -single phrase to the letter. It must have been a good letter, I think. -It had an immediate result. Within less than twenty-four hours it -brought a very busy, and distinguished man from town down here into our -quiet backwater to see us." - -"The Duke?" the King exclaimed. - -"The Duke," Uncle Bond acknowledged. "Let there be no mistake about my -position, at the outset, my boy. I am a partisan of the Duke! - -"The Duke and I had some talk, but he spent most of his time with -Judith, and the Imps. Judith--liked him. The Imps--took to him. We -gave him tea. When he left he was good enough to say that I had given -him a pleasure extremely rare in the experience of an old man. I had -introduced him to four new friends! He said other agreeable things. -But the most important thing he said, perhaps, was that, with certain -precautionary measures taken, which he himself would arrange, he saw no -reason why--the gates of Paradise should be shut on a younger, and more -fortunate visitor than himself. - -"My dear boy, I have always liked your reckless audacity. I sympathize -heartily with you in your distaste for police surveillance. But that -you should consistently give the police the slip, and career about -here, alone in your car, when the men responsible for your safety -believed that you were fast asleep, in bed, in town--in the present -state of the country, the risks, for you, for us, were altogether too -great. Think what our position would have been if anything had happened -to you! But for some time past, from the day of the Duke's visit to -us, those risks have been avoided. Scotland Yard have been on their -mettle. They have never lost sight of you. When I went downstairs, just -before lunch, I found half a dozen plain clothes men making themselves -comfortable in the kitchen. They have grown quite at home with us. And -today, they tell me, special precautions are being taken. A battalion -of the Guards, I understand, is to put a picket line round the house. -My dear boy, restrain your impatience! You will not see them. The -police have strict orders never to intrude their presence upon you. The -military, I have no doubt, will have similar orders. From the first, -the Duke has been as anxious--as any of us--that you should continue to -enjoy the full benefits of your incognito, here, in Paradise. - -"And that brings me, having finished my own explanations, to the -explanation which I am so eager to demand from you, in turn, my -boy. How did the Duke contrive that you should come here, in the -present crisis--they told me downstairs that Martial Law has been -proclaimed!--without betraying the fact that he had been here himself?" - -All the King's senses had been numbed by the rapid succession of -surprises with which Uncle Bond had attacked him. His capacity for -wonder had long since been exhausted. It seemed to him now that -nothing would ever surprise him again. A feeling of utter helplessness -oppressed him. It seemed to him that he was in the grip, that he had -been made the plaything, of an implacable, an irresistible power. But -Uncle Bond's question served to arouse a momentary flash of his old -self-assertion within him. He had been deceived, he had been managed, -he had been fooled to the top of his bent--but, in this matter, at any -rate, he had asserted himself; in this matter, at any rate, he had had -his own way. - -"The Duke did not contrive that I should come here," he exclaimed. "I -chose to come here. It was--my way of going on strike." - -"You startled me by saying something like that before, my boy," Uncle -Bond remarked. "What do you mean, precisely, by--your way of going on -strike?" - -"The whole trouble is a strike. The Labour people have called a -universal, lightning strike from twelve noon, today," the King -explained impatiently. "The Duke says a little company of revolutionary -extremists are behind it all. They want to run up the Red Flag. I -told the Duke that if there was one man in the whole country who was -justified in striking, in leaving his work, it seemed to me, I was that -man. And I said I would come here. Coming here was my way of going on -strike." - -Uncle Bond leant forward in his chair. - -"Are you quite sure that the Duke did not contrive that you should come -here, my boy?" he persisted. - -A doubt was at once born in the King's mind. The Duke had offered no -opposition whatever to his reckless excursion. The Duke had accepted -his rebellion. The Duke had encouraged him to leave the palace-- - -"The Duke wanted me to go to Windsor, or to Sandringham, in the first -place, I think. But--I daresay he was quite willing that I should come -here," he muttered. - -"In the circumstances, you could hardly have a quieter, a more -unexpected, and so, a safer, retreat," Uncle Bond remarked. - -Then he chuckled delightedly. - -"My Carlyle quotation was even more apposite than I realized, my -boy," he crowed. "It seems to me that you have done your best--to -commit suicide! But your experience will be similar to that of Fritz -the First, of Prussia. They will cut the rope. The Duke must be busy -cutting the rope now-- - -"This strike will collapse, of course--quickly. It must have been an -unexpected move; a last desperate throw by the foreign agitators who -have failed to produce more serious trouble. Everybody, who is anybody, -has known, for months, that there was trouble brewing. All sorts of -wild rumours from the Continent have been current in the Clubs. But -an attempt at armed rebellion was the common idea. It has been talked -about so much that most people, I daresay, have ceased to take it too -seriously. They will be surprised. But the Duke would not be surprised. -Everything is proceeding in accordance with plan! Things have a way of -proceeding in accordance with plan, with the Duke-- - -"What a story 'Cynthia' could make out of it all! 'The King Who Went -on Strike!' A good title for the bookstalls! But the best stories can -never be written--" - -Leaning back in his chair as he spoke, the little man turned away from -the luncheon table, and looked out through the open windows, on his -left, at the sunlit wooded landscape, beyond the garden. - -"It is strange, when you come to think of it, that you and I should be -sitting here, in peace and quietness, my boy, when there is uproar and -tumult, perhaps, when great events are shaping themselves, perhaps, -over there, beyond our wooded skyline," he murmured. "Does it not seem -strange--to you?" - -Mechanically the King swung round in his chair, and looked out, -through the windows, in turn-- - -But the wooded skyline was not destined to hold his attention for long. - -Almost at once, his eyes were drawn away, to the sunlit garden below, -by a charming little interlude which was enacted there. - -Bareheaded, and dressed in white, suddenly, round the side of the -house, came Judith, slender and tall, her beautiful vivid face rosy -with the touch of the harvest sun. On her shoulder, skilfully supported -in her upstretched arms, sat Bill, with his eyes closed, nodding his -cherub's head, heavy with sleep. Beside her trotted Button, animated, -vivacious. - -Judith was smiling happily, as she crooned in a low, sweet voice some -lullaby. - -Button sang, too, more loudly. - -In Button's clear, young voice, the words of the song became audible in -the room-- - - "And does it not seem hard to you, - "When all the sky is clear and blue, - "And I should like so much to play, - "To have to go bed by day?" - -A moment later, tightening her hold on Bill, Judith stepped up on to -the verandah and, followed by Button, disappeared from view, into the -house. - -The King sprang up, and advanced to the windows. - -In a little while Judith reappeared, alone, in the garden. - -Somehow the King had known that she would reappear. - -The Imps had had to go to bed by day! - -Sauntering across the lawn, Judith headed for the belt of trees at the -far end of the garden. - -The King knew where she was going. - -Beyond the trees, in the furthest corner of the garden, stood a small -summer house, which commanded a magnificent view of the surrounding -landscape. For the sake of this view, the summer house was a favourite -retreat of Judith's. - -Judith disappeared, with a final flicker of her white dress, behind the -trees, at the far end of the garden. - -The King turned abruptly from the windows. - -He was going to Judith-- - -And then--he remembered Uncle Bond. - -Uncle Bond had risen to his feet, and had thrown a white cloth over the -luncheon table. He crossed the room now to his writing table, sat down -deliberately, and picked up his pencil. - -"You are going to join Judith, in the garden, my boy?" he remarked. -"That is right. Judith will be surprised--and glad--to see you. I -am about to revert to 'Cynthia.' I have only one thing more to say -to you--now. Thomas Carlyle! Do not forget in Judith's, or in your -own excitement, that they will--'cut the rope!' That is certain. You -cannot afford to forget that fact, in your dealings with any of us, my -boy--least of all can you afford to forget it, in your dealings with -Judith." - -The little man began to write. - -The King opened his lips to speak; thought better of it, and closed -them again; and then--hurried out of the room. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - - -It was an urgent, blind necessity that was laid upon him, rather -than any action of his own will, which had hurried the King out of -Uncle Bond's writing room. None the less, now, as he descended the -staircase in the silent house, crossed the hall, and so passed out into -the bright afternoon sunshine in the garden, he was not altogether -unconscious of the motives which were driving him, in this strange way, -to Judith. He wanted to see Judith alone. He wanted to talk to her. He -wanted to explain things to her. And, most of all, he wanted Judith to -explain--things which only she could explain--to him-- - -A few minutes of rapid walking led him across the lawn, in amongst the -trees, at the far end of the garden. A narrow path ran, through the -trees, to the little clearing beyond, in which the summer house stood. -He followed this path. - -The green shade of the trees was welcome after the glare of the -sunlight on the lawn. A breeze rustled amongst the overhanging leaves. -Hidden away, somewhere, high up amongst the tree tops, a couple of jays -chattered raucously in the sultry stillness. - -In a minute or two, the King caught a glimpse, through the trees, of -the picturesque, crudely thatched roof of the summer house. - -A moment later, he saw Judith. - -Judith was sitting in a wicker work chair, at the entrance to the -summer house, with her hands lying idle, for once, on her lap, gazing -at the superb panorama of green fields, and wooded heights, which lay -spread out before her in the sunshine. - -So intent was her gaze, she did not hear the King's approach. - -The King halted, abruptly, on the edge of the clearing, and watched her. - -A smile flickered about Judith's lips. The play of thought across her -beautiful, vivid face reminded the King of the play of light and shade -across some sunny hillside. He had never seen Judith alone with her own -thoughts, like this, before. A kind of awe stole over him as he watched -her. And yet, he soon grew impatient, and jealous, of these thoughts of -Judith's, which he could not share. - -Stepping back, in under the trees, he trod, with intention, on a -broken branch which lay on the paths at his feet. - -The snapping of the branch served to recall Judith to her immediate -surroundings. - -She did not start. She turned her head, slowly; and saw him. - -The rosy flush which the harvest sun had put into her cheeks deepened. -Her dark, mysterious eyes lit up marvellously. - -"Alfred--you!" she cried. "I was just thinking about you. And I had no -idea you were so near!" - -A feeling of guilt oppressed the King. The shining happiness, the -radiant trust, of Judith's face smote him like a rebuke. - -Slowly, he advanced across the clearing, and halted beside her chair. - -What was it he wanted to say? What could he say? - -Then, suddenly, words came to him. - -"You know--who I am," he said. - -Quite unconsciously, he used the same words which he had used with -Uncle Bond; but he used them now with a difference. With Uncle Bond the -words had been a challenge. To Judith, he offered them as an apology. - -A shadow obscured the radiance of Judith's face; but her glance did -not waver. It was as if she were meeting something for which she had -long been prepared. - -"I have always known," she acknowledged. - -A constraint that had no parallel in his experience held the King -silent for a long minute or two. - -At last he forced himself to speak. - -"I have been here--sometime," he began desperately. "I have -been--upstairs with Uncle Bond. I have just had lunch with him in his -room. Uncle Bond has explained--a good many things to me. I saw you -come here from the window. I followed you at once. I had to follow you. -I hardly know why. Was it because there are--things between us which -only you can explain?" - -He broke off there abruptly. - -Judith knew nothing of all that had happened, of course. Until she -knew--something of all that had happened--of what use was his talk? If -only he could tell her--something of what had happened--she might be -able to begin to understand the bewilderment, and turmoil, within his -overwrought, fevered brain. That she should be able to understand, that -she should be able to sympathize with him, had become, at the moment, -his paramount need. - -"Things have happened," he resumed desperately. "Things have happened -that you know nothing about, I think. Queer things are happening, over -there, at this moment!" - -He half turned from her, as he spoke, and pointed across the sunlit -landscape, at the distant, wooded horizon. - -"Martial Law has been proclaimed. The Labour people are making trouble. -They have called a universal strike. A few of them want to get rid of -me, and run up the Red Flag. They haven't a chance, of course. The Duke -is there. I know that you know the Duke! He was ready for them. He will -be glad, I think, that they have given him this chance to crush them. -Uncle Bond had a message from the Duke, waiting for me, when I arrived, -to say that everything was--'proceeding in accordance with plan.' His -plan! - -"The Duke wanted me to go to Windsor, or to Sandringham, to be out of -the way of possible trouble. I said I'd come here. I told him, that -it seemed to me, that if there was one man, in the whole country, who -would be justified in striking, in leaving his work, I was that man. -I told him that I'd go on strike too. Coming here was my way of going -on strike. I thought that I was asserting myself. I thought that I -was showing that I was a man. All the time I was simply playing into -the Duke's hands, of course. The Duke would be quite content that I -should come here, I think. He knows that I can't get into any mischief -here. He has seen to that! Uncle Bond tells me that there are half a -dozen plain clothes men in the kitchen. Did you know that? A battalion -of the Guards is to put a picket line round the house, too. At first -I--resented the Duke's arrangements. Now, somehow, I don't seem to -care-- - -"So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours, I have been -through so much, I don't seem to have any will, any feeling, any -personality left. My own thoughts, my own words, my own actions seem -to me, now--like the disjointed pieces of a jig-saw puzzle, which -I shall never be able to put together again. I don't know--where I -am. I don't know--where I stand. I am all at sea. The bottom seems, -suddenly, to have dropped out of everything. I have been humoured, -managed, controlled, all through. I can see that. Now, I am--just like -a derelict ship. The rudder has gone. The charts are lost. I am being -driven, this way and that, at the mercy of--everybody's will, but my -own-- - -"Somehow, you are my only hope. Somehow, I feel that you will -understand me--better than I understand myself. I suppose that that -means that I love you. You know that. And I know that you love me. -There can be no doubt about that, after last night. And yet, somehow, -even that doesn't excite me now. It doesn't seem to mean--what I -suppose it ought to mean--to me. Why doesn't it mean--more to me? I -am trying to tell you the truth, so far as I can see it. I am sick of -mystery. I am utterly weary of deceit. It seems to me, that--our only -hope is--plain speaking--" - -All this time, Judith had remained motionless, and quiescent, in her -chair. She turned, now, a little towards the King. Her expression was -grave, but friendly. - -"I want you to sit down, Alfred," she said quietly. "Find another -chair, and bring it out here. When you sit down, I will talk to you. I -want to talk to you." - -The King swung round into the summer house, and brought out another -chair. Placing it beside Judith's, he sat down. Then he fixed his eyes -upon her face. - -"I am glad that you have said, what you have said, Alfred," Judith -began. "I have wanted you to give me your confidence, the whole of -your confidence, for so long. I have always understood, I think, why -you have been silent--about so many things. But I wanted you--to trust -me. Now--you have trusted me-- - -"I agree with you that the time has come for plain speaking. I am glad -that it has come. I will speak as plainly as I can." - -"First of all, you are not a derelict, Alfred. You are more like--a -ship that has not found herself. You know what happens on a trial trip? -The ship has not found herself. The Captain, and the crew, have got -to get to know her. She ships the sea. Bolts and plates stretch and -strain. Queer things happen in the engine room. And then, suddenly, all -in a moment, the ship finds herself, rights herself. You will be--like -that. Your trial trip has been run in a storm. You have been plunged, -at the start into hurricane weather. But you will find yourself, right -yourself. And, when your moment comes, you will sail the seas with any -craft afloat. - -"But that is--politics! And you, and I, are not really greatly -interested in politics, are we? What we are really interested in -is--ourselves--our own intimacy, our own relationship. When you say -that you don't know where you are, where you stand, what you mean, at -the back of your mind, is that you don't know where _we_ are, and where -_we_ stand. I will tell you where I stand. If I tell you where I stand, -you will be able to see--your own position. I will speak, as plainly as -I can, about myself--" - -Judith paused there, as if she wished to marshal her thoughts, and fit -them with words. - -The King kept his eyes fixed upon her face. His instinct had been -right. Judith understood him, better than he understood himself. -Already, he was conscious that the tumult within him was subsiding. -Judith, with her clear eyes, and sure touch, would disentangle the -mingled threads of their strange destiny, rearrange them, and put them -straight. - -"First of all, I want you to understand that I know that there can be -no change in, no development, no outcome of--our friendship," Judith -resumed slowly. "And I want you to know that I am--content that it -should be so. My life has been full of--much that many women miss. -I had Jack, my husband. I have the Imps. I have Uncle Bond. And I -have--you. - -"Your--friendship--has become very precious to me, Alfred. When you -first came here, I liked you, I think, because you reminded me of Jack. -It was the sea, and the Navy, of course. The sea, and the Navy, mark a -man, don't they? They give him a certain style, and stamp. But that was -only a superficial, surface resemblance, of course. I had not known you -very long before I realized that you were quite unlike Jack. - -"Jack was simple, a boy, a dear. He was a splendid man, physically. At -sea, he could sail anything that would float. He had no idea of fear. -He did his duty. He obeyed orders. He never questioned anything. Life -to him was always plain and straightforward. He always saw his way, -like the course of his ship, clear before him. He never had a real -trouble, or doubt. He was happy, even in his death. You know how he led -the destroyers into action, and sank an enemy ship, before he went down -himself? I--loved him. But I loved him, as I love the Imps. When he was -at home, on shore, with me, I used to feel that I had three boys to -look after-- - -"You are different. Your mind works all the time. You doubt, you -question, everything. You see all round things to which Jack would -never have given a thought. Your brain is always active--too active. -Life to you is always complex, puzzling. You live more, and harder, in -a day, in your brain, than Jack did in a year. It was when I began to -understand what was going on in the brain, behind your tired blue eyes, -that I learnt--to love you. Jack had no imagination. You have--too much -imagination. I loved Jack. But you--you could carry me off my feet-- - -"That is just what happened last night. I want you to understand about -last night, Alfred. It is important that you should understand about -last night, I think. A good deal of your trouble, of your bewilderment, -and uncertainty, today, is because of last night, I believe. And it -may--happen again. - -"I have always been very careful with you--until last night. I know -that I--attract you. At one time, I was afraid that that might -interfere with, that it might spoil, our friendship. But, as I came to -know you better, as I came to understand the hold, the control, you -have over yourself, I began to realize that it was not you, but myself, -that I had to fear. I was very careful. I watched myself. And then, -last night, after all, I failed you-- - -"But you had just been Crowned! And, after your Coronation, after all -that you had been through, you got away, as soon as you could, to come -and see me! That in itself was--a tribute--which no woman could have -resisted, I think. And you were different. Your Coronation has made -a difference, Alfred. And you were wearing the King's colours. You -remember that? And you talked about the King needing all his friends. -And, somehow, just for the moment, I wanted you to trust me, to give me -the whole of your confidence. I have always wanted your confidence. And -then--I was afraid. And I took you in to the Imps for safety. And their -crowns were there. And I couldn't resist playing with fire. And you -picked up Button's crown. And I felt all your thought--bitter, ironic, -painful thoughts. I am much more responsive to your moods than you -realize, I think. And I wanted to comfort you. And I looked at you. And -you saw what I felt-- - -"It was just as if I had said, all the things which we have always left -unsaid, wasn't it? It was just as if I had shouted aloud, all the -things which we have always been so careful to ignore. It--troubled -you--then. It troubles you still. It will be a long time, before I -shall be able to forgive myself, for what happened last night-- - -"I have always wanted to help you, to serve you, to make things easier -for you, you see--not to add to your difficulties. But we have helped -you, Uncle Bond, and I, and the Imps, haven't we! It has been good -for you to come here, to us, in Paradise, for rest, and quiet, and -peace, hasn't it? There is an old fairy story about a man who was -haunted by his shadow, that the Imps are very fond of, that I have -always connected with you, in my own mind. You are haunted by your -shadow, aren't you? You are haunted by the shadow of your rank, of -your position, of your responsibility. But you have always been able -to forget your shadow here with us--until last night--haven't you? It -has always been waiting for you, when you went away in the morning, you -picked it up again in the lane, on your way back to town, I know. But, -while you were here, you never saw your shadow, until last night, did -you?" - -"It has always been just like that," the King murmured. "With you, I -have always been able to live, in the present moment--" - -"It always _shall be_ just like that," Judith declared. - -Then she stood up abruptly. - -"But I am not going to talk any more now," she said. "I must go in. -The Imps will be awake by now. But I shan't bring them out here. I -want you to rest. I promised the Duke, that I would see that you got -as much rest as possible, whenever you came here. I--like the Duke. -He--cares more for you--than you realize, Alfred, I think. You will -try to rest now, won't you? How much sleep have you had in the last -twenty-four hours? Three hours, last night? You are too reckless. I am -not surprised the King's physician is turning grey. The Duke told me -that. You can't stay up on the bridge indefinitely. You will find that -you will be able to sleep now--after all my plain speaking! Are you -comfortable in that chair? Let me give you this cushion--" - -She lingered beside him, seeking to make him comfortable, as a woman -will. - -"I treat you, just as if you were one of my boys, don't I?" she said. -"I know you like it. But I do it--in self-defence." - -The King submitted, passively, to her ministrations. - -Then he caught her hand, and raised it to his lips. - -His action, like so many of his actions, was quite impulsive. But he -did not regret it. - -In what other way could he have expressed so well, his admiration, his -gratitude, his renewed trust? - -Judith blushed charmingly. - -Then, suddenly, she leant down over him, and kissed him, lightly, on -the forehead. - -"I kissed you like that, last night, when you were asleep," she said, -with an odd, breathless, little catch in her voice. - -Then she turned, and hurried away, through the trees, back to the -house,-- - -A great drowsiness took possession of the King. He did not resist it. -He gave himself up to it gladly-- - -His instinct had served him well. Judith understood him, better than he -understood himself. Judith was right. She was always right. The larger -part of his trouble, it seemed to him, now, had been, as she said, his -bewilderment, his uncertainty, as to where he and she stood. Now that -Judith had defined their position--as plainly as it could be defined -with safety--a great burden seemed to have been lifted from his mind. -Judith understood him. Nothing else mattered. Other things--could not -touch him here in Paradise. Other things--could wait. - -His shadow-- - -Half asleep, as he was already, he sat up abruptly. - -The bright, afternoon sun was shining full on to the little clearing, -throwing no shadow-- - -His shadow was not there-- - -Leaning back, contentedly, in his chair, he closed his eyes again. - -Almost at once, he slept. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - - -A light, butterfly touch on his cheek awoke the King. - -He had slept so deeply, and so long, it was a minute or two, before he -fully regained consciousness. - -Then he found himself gazing at Bill's gleeful, cherubic face. - -"Lazy, lazy, slug-a-bed, Uncle Alfred," Bill chanted. "'Bed by daytime' -was over--ever so long ago. We've been making the hay, the whole -afternoon. And you've been asleep all the time, you poor, tired dear. -But mother said we could wake you now." - -A sudden tenderness, for the shining innocence of the little fellow's -smiling face, gripped the King. - -Catching him up in his arms, he shook him, playfully, in mid air. - -Then he set him down on his feet again, and turning--saw Button, on the -other side of his chair. - -"Wonderful harvest weather, this we're having," Button remarked. "But, -if it's good for the hay, it's bad for the roots. We want rain for the -roots, there's no denying." - -It was an extremely elderly Button who spoke. - -The King recognized one of the youngster's habitual quotations. - -It sounded like the weather lore of old Jevons, the gardener. - -"It's Coronation weather, you see, Button," he said absently. - -Button became all boy, seven-year-old boy, at once. - -"Were you in the procession, Uncle Alfred?" he cried. "Mother told us -about it. Did you see the King? Did you wear your sword? Did the people -cheer?" - -"Tell us about the flags, and the 'luminations, and the fireworks," -Bill demanded, joining in, in the little hurricane of questions. -"Mother says the King rode in his coach. Why didn't he ride on one of -his horses? Did he wear his crown in the coach? Is his crown heavy?" - -"Mother says the King is quite young. That is funny, isn't it?" Button -predominated. "All the Kings in the fairy stories are old, old men, -with long, white beards. Do you think he likes being King? Mother -says he has to work very hard, that he can't do just what he likes, -and please himself, that he always has to think--first of England, and -never of himself. That doesn't sound as if he had much fun, does it?" - -"Do you know him? Is he a friend of yours?" Bill enquired. - -By this time, the King's dormant ironic sense had been most effectively -aroused. He was amused? Yes. But more than one of the youngsters' -innocent shafts had reached home. - -And Judith was not greatly interested in politics! - -"First of England, and never of himself?" - -Had he not always thought--first of himself? - -"Mother says the King was in the Navy, like you and our daddy, until -they told him that he had to be King," Button continued. "Daddy died in -battle, you know. But it isn't sad. Mother has his medals. When I grow -up, I'm to have his sword, and go into the Navy, too. Mother says it's -the King's Service. When Bill is big enough, mother says he'll be as -big as I am some day, he's going into the Navy, too. He'll be in the -King's Service, too. But I'm to have daddy's sword, because I'm the -eldest." - -Bill scrambled up on to the King's knees. - -"You will tell us all about the King, and his procession, and the -'luminations, and the fireworks, won't you, dear?" he coaxed. - -"Some day--perhaps I will," the King said. "But it is a long, and a -difficult story, and it--isn't finished yet. I don't think the King -likes being King, very much, though. Mother is right. He--can't do just -what he likes. He hasn't been King very long--but he has learnt that, -already. Perhaps, I don't know, he may learn, if he has the chance, -in time, to think--first of England, and never of himself. He doesn't -have much fun. I know that. His crown is--heavier than he likes. He was -very tired of it all, yesterday, I know. He didn't see--much of his own -procession. He saw the flags, and the crowds, and he heard the cheers. -Yes. The people cheered! And he bowed, and smiled, and played his part. -But I don't think he enjoyed it very much. I think he was--rather -afraid of it all, in his own heart. He didn't wear his sword. They -won't let the King fight, nowadays, you see. He has to let other -men--brave men like your daddy--fight for him. He--doesn't like that! -That is why it is better to be in the King's Service, in the Navy, as -you are going to be, when you grow tall enough, than to be--the King--" - -"Didn't they let him sit up to see the 'luminations, and the -fireworks?" Bill asked, surprised, and puzzled. - -"Yes. They let him sit up to see them," the King acknowledged hastily. -"And there were illuminated aeroplanes over the palace. And "God Save -the King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second," in letters of fire, -on all the houses--" - -"Here's mother," Button announced. - -Judith appeared, advancing through the trees. - -Button ran to meet her. - -Bill remained faithful to the King's knee. - -The King frowned. He understood, suddenly, he thought, why Judith had -sent the Imps to wake him. The Imps were protection, safety. Judith -was right, of course. It was wise of her to take such precautions--in -self-defence. And yet, somehow, at the moment, he resented her wisdom. - -"You have had a good sleep, Alfred," Judith said, smiling pleasantly, -as she halted beside him. "It is nearly six o'clock now. We came, and -looked at you, at tea-time, but you were so fast asleep, it seemed a -shame to wake you." - -The King's resentment fell from him. He felt ashamed of himself. It was -of him, and not of herself--did she ever think of herself?--that Judith -had been thinking. - -"I feel very much better, thank you. The rest has done me good," he -said. - -"Uncle Alfred has been telling us about the King, mother," Button -explained. "He says he doesn't think the King likes being King very -much. He can't do what he likes, just as you said. They won't let him -wear his sword even, and he can't fight for himself. He has to let -other people fight for him. I'm glad I'm not King. I'd rather be a -sailor, and wear daddy's sword." - -The King put Bill down off his knee, and stood up hastily, glad to -avoid, in this way, meeting Judith's glance-- - -"Picaback! Picaback!" Bill cried. - -"A race!" Button shouted. - -It was the Imps' hour for play. - -Always, in the evening, between tea and dinner, Judith joined them, in -the garden, in a riotous frolic. - -This evening the King, too, was inevitably, pressed into their service. - -The King mounted Bill on his shoulders, willingly enough. - -Button claimed Judith as his mettlesome charger. - -The race, it was decided, should be to the house. - -And so, with Button urging Judith forward, and Bill spurring the King -on, remorselessly, with his heels, the race began. - -The result was, for some time, in doubt. - -Ultimately, going all out across the lawn, Bill, on the King, won by a -short length. - -Whether Bill, or the King, was the more delighted at this success, it -would have taken a very acute observer to judge. - -In the ensuing hour, the King found himself called upon to play a -variety of parts, which would have made exhaustive demands upon the -resources of the most experienced quick-change artist. - -A Wild Beast in the trees, Man Friday, a Red Indian, a Cannibal King, -and a Policeman, were amongst his more prominent rôles. Flinging -himself into the spirit of the play, with a gusto which he caught, in -part, from Judith, he entirely forgot himself. - -The Imps' laughter rang out, blithe and free, through the garden, and -about the house. Whenever their interest, or their energy failed, -Judith was quick with some delectable proposal, unlimited in resource. -With all their unspoilt imagination, Button and Bill were hard put to -it, at times, to keep pace with the whims of their radiant, laughing -mother. Judith played with all the abandon of a child, directed by the -intellect of an adult. To the King this combination was irresistible. -He had no thought now apart from the present moment. - -Once only, were he and Judith alone together. It was in the course of -a wild game of hide and seek with which the play ended. It was their -turn to hide. Quite by chance, they sought the same cover--a large -rhododendron bush in the drive. They crouched together, behind the -bush, side by side. - -Judith was flushed, panting a little, and a trifle dishevelled. - -"Isn't this fun?" she whispered, turning to him with shining eyes. - -"I am ten years old--for the first time," the King replied. - -Judith's face clouded. - -"When you were a boy--was the shadow there already?" she asked. - -"I think that it must have been, although I didn't know it," the King -muttered. "I expect it was my own fault--but I was lonely. I knew, -I think we all knew--that we were not like other children. It wasn't -until I went to sea that--I was able to forget that I was a Prince!" - -"Poor, lonely, little Prince!" Judith murmured. "But when he went to -sea, he was happy?" - -"The sea knocked a lot of nonsense out of me," the King replied. "At -sea, a man is a man, and nothing else. When I had learnt that, I was -happy." - -Then the Imps burst in upon them, and the play was at an end. - -Judith drove the Imps before her, into the house. - -For them--a light supper, and then, an early bedtime. - -The King made his way into the house in turn. - -It was time to dress for dinner. - -A rich content, a sense of absolute well-being, was with the King now. -Was it not always so, when he had been with Judith, and the Imps? The -bewilderment, the turmoil, and the fever, which had raged within him, -only a few hours ago, seemed very far away. - -Here, in Paradise, the present moment was good! - -Insensibly--had Judith contrived it?--he had stepped into the quiet old -inn of "Content," on the corner of the market-place. He had turned his -back on--the procession--on the fight in the market-place. He would -keep his back turned to them. He would not even risk the window view. - -Alfred, the sailor, was not dead! - -It was Alfred, the sailor, who entered the house. - -It was Alfred, the sailor, who passed into his own room. - -Here, a surprise awaited him. Laid out in the room were evening -clothes. On the dressing-table were familiar toilet trifles from the -palace. - -Alfred, the sailor, fled. - -It was the King, who halted, in the middle of the room, and looked -about him. - -This, he realized, must have been the outcome of the old Duke's -thoughtfulness. The Duke alone could have given the orders which had -made this possible. That the Duke should have found time to attend to -so trivial a matter, time to give orders to a valet to pack a bag, when -he was giving orders to maintain a throne--it was almost ludicrous! - -And yet, it was like the Duke. - -It was like the Duke, to remind him, to assure him, in this way, that -he, the King, was of importance, that he was being served, well served, -in small matters, as well as in great. Something of the sort must -have been in the old Duke's mind, when he gave the orders, which had -provided him, the King, with a dress shirt--and studs!--now, when he -wanted them-- - -No doubt, some member of the palace household staff, Smith perhaps, had -been sent down, specially, from the palace, with these things, during -the afternoon. Like the police, and the military, he would have been -given orders to remain invisible. That was as it should be. A valet -would have been out of place in Paradise. Alfred, the sailor, would be -entitled to a servant, of course. But he would hardly accompany him -on--"a short leave of absence"-- - -The King was glad to change. - -He was glad to think, as he dressed leisurely, that he would appear -suitably clad at Judith's table. - -There is a stimulation in clothes which he was young enough to feel. - -He was still struggling with his dress tie, when the dinner gong -sounded. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - - -A small, panelled room, on the left of the hall, and on the west side -of the house, the dining room was bright with the light of the setting -sun, as the King entered. Late as he was himself, he was surprised to -find that only Judith was there to receive him. She was standing at the -window doors, which opened out of the room onto the verandah, gazing at -the flaming glory of the sunset sky. Wearing a silver gown, that had a -metallic glitter, which gave her something of a barbaric splendour, she -seemed, at the moment, almost a stranger to the King. But she turned to -welcome him with her usual friendly little nod, and smile. - -"It will be no use our waiting for Uncle Bond," she announced. "He may -be here, in a minute or two. Or he may not come for half an hour, or -more. 'Cynthia' may have got a firm grip on him, you see. Uncle Bond, -or perhaps I ought to say 'Cynthia,' hates being interrupted for meals. -I never wait for him." - -Sitting down at the foot of the dinner table, as she spoke, she waved -the King into his place, on her right, facing the open window doors, -and the view of the garden, and of the wooded landscape beyond, which -they framed. - -"I hope 'Cynthia' _has_ got a firm grip on Uncle Bond," she went on. "I -shall have you all to myself, then. You ought to have said that, you -know. But you never make pretty speeches. That is why I said it for -you." - -The King sat down at the dinner table, and picked up his napkin, -mechanically. - -"Are pretty speeches allowed--between us?" he asked. - -"Why not? Just for once?" Judith replied. "Why shouldn't we play at -them, like a game with the Imps? Shall I begin? I will give you an -opening. Do you like my dress? And my hair? I dressed for you. I know -you like me, of course. But there are times, when a woman likes to be -told--what she knows!" - -The King was surprised, and not a little embarrassed. This was not the -Judith he had expected. This was not the Judith of the afternoon. This -was that other strange, dangerous Judith, of the night before. She had -warned him that--it might happen again. True. But he had never imagined -that it would happen again, so soon-- - -The entrance of the light-footed parlour-maid, in neat black, who was -responsible for the service of the meal, at that moment, covered the -King's silent confusion. - -So long as the maid was in the room only trivial surface conversation -was possible. - -The King compelled himself to play his necessary, outward social -part. But he was uneasily aware, all the time, inwardly, that Judith -had noticed his embarrassment and that she was likely to resume her -unexpected attack at the first opportunity. His intuition proved -correct; but only partially correct. Judith was quick to take advantage -of the first of the maid's temporary absences from the room to return -to more intimate talk. But she struck, at once, a quieter, graver note. - -"What is it, Alfred?" she asked. "Do I trouble you? I am sorry. It was -selfish of me. I knew that I was playing with fire, of course. But--a -woman grows tired of leaving everything unsaid." - -Her implied appeal, and her insistence on her feminine weakness--a -thing unprecedented in her!--moved the King. He felt ashamed of his own -caution. - -"If I had the right to make pretty speeches--" he began. - -Then he checked himself abruptly. - -What was the use of evasion? Had not Judith and he agreed that plain -speaking was their only hope? Judith had spoken plainly enough. The -least he could do was to speak plainly, too. And, suddenly, at the -back of his mind, now, were thoughts, which he had never suspected in -himself, clamouring for expression,-- - -"But I haven't the right!" he exclaimed. "I haven't any right to be -here, really. I see that now. I am in an utterly false position. I -ought not to be here. I ought not to have come here, as I have done. It -was not fair--to either of us. It was asking too much of--both of us. -Why haven't I seen that before? I shut my eyes to it, deliberately, I -am afraid. It was a mistake. It has been a mistake all through. I have -been absolutely selfish. I have thought only of myself. It is only -right that I should have to pay for my mistake. But the payment is all -on your side. It has been give, give, give, all the time, on your side. -And take, take, take, all the time, on mine. And I can make no return--" - -"The giving all on our side! You have made no return!" Judith cried. -"It isn't true, Alfred. You know it isn't true! But, even if it were -true--a woman loves a man who allows her to give to him." - -"Isn't that just the trouble?" the King exclaimed, exasperated by the -conflict of feeling within him into a flash of unusual insight. - -Then the parlour-maid re-entered the room. - -Hard on the heels of the parlour-maid, Uncle Bond made his appearance. - -The little man had not dressed for dinner. He was still wearing his -usual, loose-fitting shooting clothes. - -"You will excuse my clothes, I know, my boy," he remarked as he slipped -into his place, at the head of the table. "It has taken me all my -time to get here at all. I have just had a violent quarrel, upstairs, -with 'Cynthia.' I told her that you were here to dinner today, that -you were an honoured guest, and that I wished to show you proper -attention. She told me to get on with my work. I told her that I would -not be hag-ridden--that caught her on the raw!--that she was merely my -familiar spirit, not my master. Then I slammed the door on her. And -here we are!" - -It was difficult to resist Uncle Bond's chuckling good-humour. The King -found himself smiling at the little man's characteristic nonsense, -almost in spite of himself. - -Judith proved more obdurate. - -Judith appeared to be really piqued by Uncle Bond's entrance. As the -meal proceeded, she became increasingly silent. An obtuser man than -Uncle Bond must have become quickly conscious that something was wrong. -From the mischievous twinkle which shone in the little man's sparkling -eyes, the King judged that Uncle Bond was only too well aware of the -tension that had sprung up, so unexpectedly, between Judith and himself. - -Oddly enough, Uncle Bond did nothing to relieve the situation. The -little man was, or affected to be, very hungry. Setting himself, ably -seconded by the parlour-maid, to make good the courses which had -already been served, he confined his attention, almost entirely to his -plate. - -The meal went forward, for some time, in these circumstances, with a -minimum of talk, which was not far removed from dumb show. - -The broad rays of the setting sun were shining full into the room now -through the open window doors immediately facing the King. In the -awkward, recurring silences at the table, his eyes turned, again and -again, to the window doors, and the superb landscape which they framed. - -Field and wood, winding road, and blossoming hedgerow, cottage and -farm, lay, peaceful and serene, spread out there, before him, in the -bright, evening light. - -And beyond, beyond it all, lay London. - -What was happening there? - -The question startled the King. - -Engrossed in his own thoughts, absorbed by his own emotions, he had -entirely forgotten the crisis. - -Was everything still proceeding in accordance with plan? Why had -he not heard from the Duke? Had not the Duke said that he would be -communicating with him? - -A sudden impatience with, a new contempt for, himself, swept over the -King. - -What right had he to be sitting there, in peace and quietness, when -there was uproar and tumult, perhaps, when great events were shaping -themselves, perhaps, over there, beyond the wooded skyline? - -The Duke had urged him to leave the palace. The Duke had urged him to -seek a retreat, an asylum, out of the way of possible trouble. - -All that was true. - -And yet, here again, by his own act, had he not placed himself--in an -utterly false position? - -This was not his place! - -It seemed to be his fate, that he should always do the wrong thing! - -His worst enemy was, indeed--himself! - -The meal dragged on, drearily, and interminably, it seemed now, to the -King. - -Would it never end? - -At last, the parlour-maid put the decanters on the table, and withdrew, -finally, from the room. - -A moment later, Uncle Bond stood up, glass in hand. - -"I see no reason why we should not drink our usual toast, Judith," he -said. "On the contrary, I think there is every reason why we should -drink it, tonight-- - -"The King!" - -Judith sprang up, and raised her glass in turn. - -"The King--God bless him!" she said. - -The King had picked up his own glass, mechanically, and half risen to -his feet. - -He set his glass down again on the table, now with a shaking hand, and -sank back into his chair. Then, hardly conscious of what he was doing, -he bowed, first to Judith, and then to Uncle Bond. He could not see -their faces. There was a mist before his eyes-- - -"The King!" - -Their usual toast. They drank it nightly, then, thinking of him. For -them it had a special, personal meaning. With them it was not only a -pledge of loyalty. With them it was a pledge of affection, too. - -The King was profoundly moved. - -Then, suddenly, his brain raced furiously. - -"The King!" - -Judith and Uncle Bond would not be alone in drinking the toast that -evening. All over the world, wherever men and women, of the true -English stock, were gathered together, would not the toast be drunk, -that evening, with a special enthusiasm, a special meaning? Not with -the special, personal meaning, the special, personal affection, -with which Judith and Uncle Bond had drunk it. That was outside the -question. The toast was a bigger thing than any personal affection, -than any personal feeling. It was a bigger thing than--any King-- - -"The King!" - -Had not his own pulse quickened, had not his blood flowed more quickly -through his veins, at the words? They had acted upon him like the call -of a trumpet. To what? - -"The King!" - -What did the words stand for? For the biggest things. For England, -loyalty, patriotism, for ideals of service, personal, and national. No -man or woman drinking the toast thought and felt precisely as any other -man or woman standing beside them. But they were all united, all their -varied thoughts, and ideals, and emotions were linked together by the -words. - -And he--the King--was the recognized, the accredited, figurehead, of -all their varied thoughts, ideals, emotions. - -Was not this the reason, that he might serve as a link between the -varied ideals of all his people, that the King, his father, had been -content to live a man apart, isolated, lonely, remote? Was it not for -this that his brother, the Prince, had prepared himself, sacrificing -himself, never sparing himself? - -And he had followed them unwillingly-- - -A new resolve, or something as near akin to a new resolve as he dare -venture upon, in his new distrust, his new contempt, for himself, was -registered by the King, at that moment. - -If the old Duke "cut the rope"--and the old Duke would, he must -"cut the rope"--he, the King, would shape the course of his life, -differently-- - -It was not, he realized, that these were new thoughts with him. They -were, rather, thoughts which had lurked, until now, at the back of his -mind, overlaid by that preoccupation with himself, by that thinking -first of himself, which given the chance, given the time, it would be -his business, now, to alter-- - -The shutting of the door, behind him, at this point, startled the King -out of his reverie. - -Looking round, he found that Judith had left the table, and slipped -quietly out of the room. - -He turned to his right--and met Uncle Bond's curious glance. - -Uncle Bond pushed a cigar box across the table, towards him. - -The King chose a cigar absently. - -Uncle Bond selected a long, and formidable looking cheroot, lit it, and -then leaning back in his chair, began to talk. - -"I would give a good deal to be able to read your thoughts, my boy," -he remarked. "Perhaps I can read--some of them! If it were not for the -bond of friendship between us, I should be tempted to regard you as a -most fascinating psychological study. Your position, the circumstances -in which you find yourself, at the moment are--unique. And you are -becoming conscious of that, and of many other things, unless I am -much mistaken. Our little comedy is drawing to its close, I fancy. -Meanwhile, shall we share our thoughts? Or do you feel that silence is -as essential, as it is said to be golden?" - -The King hesitated, for a moment. His recent thoughts could be shared -with no one--not even with Uncle Bond, not even with Judith-- - -Then, as he looked up, in his perplexity, his eyes were caught by -the landscape, framed in the open window doors, in front of him. -Instinctively, he fell back upon his earlier thoughts, of what was -happening over there, beyond the wooded skyline, of why he had not -heard from the Duke. - -"I have been wondering what is happening over there," he said, -indicating the far horizon with a gesture. "I begin to want to know -what is happening. The Duke said he would be communicating with me, you -know. I suppose you haven't heard from the Duke again?" - -"No. I have not heard from the Duke," Uncle Bond replied. "But no news -is good news, in this case, my boy, I am certain. My own idea is that -the Duke will send no message until--everything has proceeded 'in -accordance with plan'--until he has, definitely, 'cut the rope.' Then, -and not until then, I think we may expect to see him here, in person." - -The King was silent. He was conscious that he would be ready for, that -he would be glad to see, the Duke, when he came. - -Uncle Bond, with his uncanny, unerring instinct, seemed to read his -thoughts. - -"Our intimacy is, I think, nearing its end. Or, if it is not nearing -its end, it is approaching a time when it will be, inevitably, -changed," he remarked. "Ours has been a strange association, my boy. -But I am glad to think that it has been as pleasant, as it has been -strange. It has been so to Judith, and to myself. And to you? You have -enjoyed the hospitality which we have been so glad to offer you. And we -have been able to do you some service--a greater service, perhaps, than -we ever intended, a greater service, perhaps, than you, as yet, realize. - -"We shall not see as much of you, in the near future, I fancy, as we -have done, in the past. Probably, we shall see less of you. Probably, -a time will come when your very welcome visits here will cease -altogether. But, I am glad to think, you will not be able to forget -us. We shall always have a place in your memory--a place of our own--a -place like no one else's. As the years go by, you will fill a more and -more important, a more and more distinguished position. But you will -not forget us. You will think of us gratefully. - -"I want, Judith and I both want, your memory of us to be without -regret, to be a wholly pleasant memory. A mental oasis, perhaps, of -a kind useful to a man who is condemned to fill a conspicuous, and -responsible position--in the procession. There has been nothing in our -association which you, or we, can regret, thus far. Be on your guard, -my boy. See to it, that nothing occurs, that any of us need regret, in -retrospect-- - -"I have fallen into a bad habit of gravity with you, I observe. I seem -to have taken to obtruding my advice upon you. The Heavy Father! This -afternoon. And now, again, tonight. I apologize! - -"And now I must revert to 'Cynthia'! We have had a wonderful day. -You always bring me luck. But 'Cynthia,' when she once gets going is -insatiable. I shall have to put in two or three more hours, with her, -upstairs, tonight. We are thousands of words ahead of the time-table -already. I shall be able to be idle for weeks after today. But there is -a climax in the offing--a climax, a couple of pages ahead, which cannot -wait. I must let it take its own course, shape itself, and get it down -on to paper. It never pays to let a climax wait!" - -The little man stood up, and leaving the table, crossed the room to the -door. But, by the door, he paused. - -"Judith, I see, is waiting for you, in the hall, my boy," he announced. -"She will give you some music, I dare say. If you should happen to want -me--I am upstairs." - -Then he disappeared. - -In spite of Uncle Bond's announcement that Judith was waiting for him, -the King lingered at the dinner table. Somehow, he did not wish--to -be alone with Judith again. Was he afraid of her? Or of himself? He -hardly knew. But he shrank instinctively from the ordeal. It would be -an ordeal. The consequences, the inevitable consequences, of his false -position, of his reckless self-indulgence, were closing about him-- - -Suddenly, the soft notes of the piano, in the hall, reached his ears. - -Judith had begun her music, without waiting for him. - -The King had no cultivated taste in music. The rattling melodies of the -wardroom piano, or gramophone, were his greatest pleasure. Like most -people, where music was concerned, he was merely an animal, soothed or -irritated, by noise. - -Judith's music was soft and low. - -It soothed him. - -Well, the ordeal had to be faced! - -Finishing his glass of port, he stood up. - -Then he passed, reluctantly, out of the dining room, into the hall. - -In the hall, the shadows of the twilight were gathering fast. Judith's -silver dress shone, obscurely luminous, in the far corner, where she -was seated at the piano. She turned, and welcomed him with her friendly -little nod, and went on playing. - -The King sat down on the ottoman, at the foot of the staircase. It was -the furthest distance that he could keep from Judith. - -Judith played on, passing from one melody to another, playing -throughout from memory, odd movements, and the music of songs, all soft -and low, and all, it seemed, now, to the King, plaintive, sad. - -The twilight deepened in the hall. - -Neither the twilight, nor the music, brought peace to the King. - -A sense of fatality, a feeling of impending crisis, was with him. - -And he was afraid, now--of himself. - -At last, the music ceased. - -Judith stood up. - -The King rose to his feet, in turn. - -And then, suddenly, blind instinct came to his aid, counselling flight. - -Without a word, with the briefest possible glance in Judith's -direction, he turned sharply round on his heel, and passed quickly up -the staircase, to Uncle Bond's quarters. - -He flung open the door of Uncle Bond's writing room, without knocking-- - -"I have come--to place myself under arrest, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed. -"I have come--to put myself into safe custody. I can't--trust myself." - -Uncle Bond, busy at his writing table, laid down his pencil, and turned -in his chair. - -"Shut the door, my boy," he said. "I accept the responsibility you -have offered me. It is a responsibility which I would have accepted -before--but I did not care to interfere, between you and Judith, until -it was offered to me." - -The King shut the door. - -"Fortunately, 'Cynthia' and I have just finished our climax," Uncle -Bond chuckled. "I can blow out the candles, and devote myself to you." - -He blew out the candles on the writing table, the only light in the -room. - -"Sit down, my boy," he said. "Can you feel your way to the sofa? The -moon rises late tonight. In this dubious, half light, we may be able to -talk--at our ease." - -The King found his way to the sofa, under the windows, without any -difficulty, and sat down. - -A dusky veil, which was not darkness, had been drawn over the room, -when Uncle Bond blew out the candles. Outside the windows, there was -still a luminous glow in the sky, where one or two stars shone palely. -A couple of bats fluttered, to and fro, across the length of the -windows. Some martins, settling down for the night, in their nests, -under the eaves of the house, twittered excitedly-- - -"Shall we talk?" Uncle Bond asked suddenly. "I am ready to talk. And -yet--I have no great faith in words. 'Cynthia' uses them. But plain -James Bond has learnt their danger. After all, when an action speaks -for itself, why use words? They will probably be the wrong words." - -"I do not think that I want to talk, Uncle Bond," the King said slowly. - -It seemed to him, now, that he had already said enough, perhaps too -much, when he had entered the room. - -"I am content," Uncle Bond said. "I am not afraid of silence." - -Silence, at the moment, was welcome to the King-- - -It was a soothing, sedative silence, which brought with it the first -hush of night. - -The King settled himself, more comfortably, at full length, on the sofa. - -Uncle Bond neither moved, nor spoke. - -Some time passed. - -At last, Uncle Bond stood up, and crossed quietly to the sofa. - -The King was asleep. - -The little man drew out two or three blankets, from under the sofa, and -threw them over the King. - -Then he returned to the writing table, and sat down. But he did not -relight his candles, and resume his work. He leant back in his chair, -in an attitude of expectancy, as if he were waiting for somebody. - -He had not long to wait. - -In a minute or two, the door behind him was opened, quietly, and Judith -slipped into the room. - -Judith halted behind the little man, and stood there, for some time -in silence, gazing at the King's face, which was dimly visible in the -light from the windows. - -At last, she spoke. - -"He is asleep?" she whispered. - -"Yes," Uncle Bond said. "When you remember the strain under which he -has been running, you can hardly be surprised." - -There was a short silence. Then Judith laid her hand on the little -man's shoulder. - -"It was--my fault, Uncle Bond," she whispered. "I--failed him. It has -happened twice now. Last night was the first time. And tonight--he knew -that it was going to happen again. I don't know--how it happened. It -ought not to have happened--" - -"It had to happen. It is a good thing that it has happened," Uncle Bond -said quietly. "It was--the necessary climax. I have been expecting it. -And now--it is over-- - -"It was a risk. It was a great risk. It was _the_ risk," the little man -went on, in a low, meditative tone. "But I trusted--_him_. It seemed to -me that he could not fail. He comes of a good stock. The long line of -men and women who lived, so that he might live, did not live in vain. -Think of their restraint, their self-repression, their self-sacrifice-- - -"And we have been able to do him a service, a great service, a -greater service than he realizes as yet. We have helped him through -a difficult, and dangerous, period in his life. And you have shown -him--of what stuff he is made. Instincts, and impulses, which, in him, -have necessarily been insulated, and sternly suppressed, for years, -have been brought into play. He knows now--of what stuff he is made. - -"The future will be easier. I was telling him, tonight, that I do -not think that we shall see so much of him, in the future. The time -is coming when we shall see very little of him, I think. But he will -not forget us. He will think of us with gratitude, with deepening -gratitude, as the years go by. We shall have a place of our own in his -memory. And there will be nothing in his memory, that he, or we, need -regret-- - -"We shall miss him. He has come to fill a large place in all our lives. -It has been a strange episode. That he should have wandered, by chance, -into our quiet backwater; that we should have become implicated, -through him, in great issues--that is strange. But it is only an -episode. And it is nearly over now. And we--and you--would not have it -otherwise?" - -"I would not have it otherwise," Judith whispered. - -Then she drew in her breath, sharply, as if in pain. - -"But I have so much, and he has so little," she said. - -"He has--England," Uncle Bond said gravely. - -"And I have the Imps, and you," Judith replied. - -Then she stooped down, suddenly, and kissed the little man. - -"Good night," she said. "I am going straight to bed. I am very tired." - -And she turned, and hurried out of the room-- - -For some time, Uncle Bond remained motionless at the writing table. - -The night was very still. An owl called, eerily, from the garden. A -dog barked in some distant farmyard. - -At last, the little man rose to his feet, crossed to the sofa again, -and stood looking down at the King's face which showed pallid, drawn, -and, somehow, it seemed to him now, old, in the dim, half light. - -"The band, I think, _must be_ playing--somewhere--" he muttered. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - - -It was a night of strange dreams with the King. - -For endless ages, as it seemed to him, watched all the time by a -thousand flushed, curious faces, by a thousand eyes, he fled, down -interminable corridors, across dark and desolate waste places, pursued, -now by the old Duke of Northborough, now by Uncle Bond, and now by -Judith. His feet were of lead. Time and again, he stumbled, and all -but fell. His breath came in panting gusts. He reeled. His brain was -on fire. And yet the chase continued, across continents, through dark, -dank caves, along a dreary coast line, on the edge of precipices, by -the side of angry seas-- - -The horror of it all was heightened by his knowledge that he was being -pursued in error. Some inexplicable, mysterious misunderstanding -between him, and his pursuers, accounted for the chase. They were -pursuing him, hunting him down, mistakenly, full of a desire to serve -him, to save him. He could not, he dare not, stop to explain their -error to them. To stop was death. And Judith was the most persistent, -the most relentless of his pursuers-- - -At last the darkness, through which he fled, was pierced by a blinding -light, which played full upon his face, dazzling his eyes. They had -turned a searchlight upon him, to aid them in hunting him down. All the -world would see his fall. He twisted, this way and that, to avoid the -light. But his frenzied efforts were all in vain. The light turned with -him always, shining full upon his face. Then he fell-- - -Bright morning sunshine was streaming in through the open windows of -the writing room, full upon the King's face, as he awoke. As he turned -his head to avoid its blinding glare, he saw Uncle Bond's writing -table, bare and empty, save for the candlesticks, in which mere stumps -of candles remained. Slowly he became conscious of his surroundings. -First he recognized the writing table, than the bare walls, then -the room. Then he realized that he was lying on the sofa, under the -windows. The blankets which covered him puzzled him for awhile. The -fact that he was fully dressed in evening clothes puzzled him still -more. Then memory was achieved, and he knew--who he was, where he was. -Throwing off the blankets he sprang up on to his feet, and stretched -himself with a sudden access of immense relief. - -It was good to awake from so terrifying a dream-- - -A burst of radiant, childish laughter, outside the room, down below in -the garden, drew him to the windows. - -Old Jevons, the gardener, was on the lawn, with Joshua, the equally -elderly garden donkey, harnessed to the lawn mower. Bill was perched -on Joshua's unwilling back. Button was pulling at Joshua's obstinate -mouth. And Joshua would not move. Joshua was a capricious animal, with -a temper of his own. To the laughing Imps, his recurring mutinies were -a never failing joy. - -In the bright morning light, against the green background of the garden -trees, the animated little scene had a charm which was not lost upon -the King. - -"If I had a donkey, what wouldn't go," Bill chanted. - -"Wouldn't I wollop him? No! No! No!" Button carolled gleefully, -abandoning Joshua's mouth, and converting the nursery rhyme into an -action song of considerable vigour. - -Suddenly, Joshua succumbed. Lowering his head before the storm, he -moved forward. - -Old Jevons, who had been waiting patiently for this capitulation, -guided the machine. - -"It's a hard world for donkeys!" the King moralized at the window. -"But, once harnessed, I suppose--one has to pull the machine." - -It was of himself that he was thinking! - -Then Judith appeared in the garden, stepping down from the verandah, -and sauntering across the lawn. - -The King withdrew hastily, from the windows. - -He hardly knew why. - -But he did know! His clothes, his dishevelled appearance, made him feel -foolish. The sooner he could get a bath, and a change, the better. It -must be late. It must be nearly breakfast time. Now, while Judith and -the Imps were out in the garden, he would probably be able to slip -down to his bedroom, unobserved. The servants would be busy preparing -breakfast. It must be eight o'clock at least. He must hurry-- - -Darting out of the writing room, he passed quickly down the staircase, -and through the hall, without meeting anybody on the way. As he -raced along the corridor which led to his bedroom, he noticed, with -considerable satisfaction, that the bathroom was empty. Diving into -his bedroom, he snatched up some towels, and his dressing case. Then -he hurried back to the bathroom. It was with a feeling not far removed -from triumph that he shut the bathroom door. - -The cold water of the bath was stimulating, invigorating. A shave -restored his self-respect. The last vestiges of his troubled sleep -fell from him. He was rested, although his sleep had been troubled. -He had needed rest. This morning, he was himself again. He was ready -to face--whatever had to be faced. But not a moment sooner than was -necessary. For the time being, he put thought from him, deliberately-- - -Back in his bedroom, he found that the grey lounge suit, which he had -been wearing the day before, had been carefully brushed, and laid out -ready for him. The invisible valet had been at work again. He dressed -quickly. While he was knotting his tie, a point in his toilet that he -was particular about, even this morning, from mere force of habit, the -gong in the hall sounded. He looked at his watch. He had not been far -out in his estimate of the time. It was just on half past eight. Did -they know he was up? Of course they would know. No doubt, even here in -his bedroom, he was being carefully, if unostentatiously, shadowed-- - -A sound of footsteps outside on the verandah told him that it was -there, as usual, that breakfast was being served. - -Well, he had to face them! - -And Uncle Bond, if he was there, if he was equal to breakfasting in -public for once, might have news-- - -The King stepped out of the bedroom, through the open window doors, on -to the verandah. - -The breakfast table had been placed at the far end of the verandah. - -Uncle Bond was there. - -Judith was there. - -The Imps were there. - -And so was--the Duke. - -A momentary silence followed the King's appearance on the verandah. - -Then the Imps ran forward to greet him. - -"We are all to have breakfast together, Uncle Alfred," Button -announced. - -"And we've been waiting for you--for ever so long," Bill complained. - -The King caught them up, in turn, and shook them, in mid-air, as was -his wont. - -"We all like your friend very much," Bill whispered. "He's been here a -long, long time--quite twenty minutes!" - -"He came in a big car, bigger than Uncle's," Button supplemented. - -The King looked at his "friend"--the Duke. - -With his broad shoulders, and great height, the Duke dominated the -little group, at the breakfast table, as he dominated every group, -wherever he stood. He was still wearing the rather shabby black office -suit which he had been wearing the day before. Whatever his experience -had been, within the last twenty-four hours, it had not changed him. -The formidable, massive features, under their crown of silver hair, the -luminous, piercing, blue eyes, showed no sign of weariness, no hint -even of anxiety. The force, the vigour, the look, of the wonderful -old man were all unimpaired. He was still, as he had always been, the -strong man, sure of himself, and of his purpose. - -A sudden, irresistible thrill of relief ran through the King. - -From that moment, he knew, for certain, that the Duke had brought good -news; that the Duke had "cut the rope"-- - -The lightning conductor had not failed. - -This man could not fail. - -There was an awkward little silence, as the King approached the -breakfast table. - -It was not that the Duke was at a loss. The Duke could never be at -a loss. The King recognized that. Nor was it that Uncle Bond was -embarrassed. The King was conscious that the little man was watching -him with shining, mischievous eyes. Rather it was that the Duke, and -Uncle Bond, deferred to him, in this silence, tacitly recognizing that -it was for him to indicate how he wished to be met, whether as their -friend, or as--the King. - -Oddly enough, it was Judith who settled the question. - -Slipping into her place behind the coffee pot she turned to the King -with her usual friendly little nod, and smile. - -"You have had a good night? You slept?" she said. "The Imps were very -anxious to wake you as usual. But I thought you would like to sleep on -this morning. No, Bill. This is Uncle Alfred's coffee. That is right, -Button. That is Uncle Alfred's chair." - -It was Uncle Alfred, accordingly, who sat down in his usual place at -the breakfast table, with his back to the house, facing the garden. - -His friend, the Duke, sat down opposite to him. - -The Imps scrambled up on to their chairs, on Judith's right and left. - -Uncle Bond presided at the head of the table. - -The meal began. - -It was a strange meal, the strangest of the many strange meals which -the King had known. The two parts which he had kept distinct for so -long seemed now, somehow, suddenly to blend, to mingle, without any -difficulty. He was Alfred, the sailor, again. And yet, he was--the -King-- - -With the Imps at the table, there was no lack of conversation. - -Once they had finished their porridge, the Imps were free to talk. -They talked. To each other. To themselves. To anybody. To nobody in -particular. - -A lengthy dialogue between Bill, and a wholly invisible small boy -called John, who had, apparently, a regrettable habit of grabbing his -food, seemed to appeal, in particular, to the Duke, who entered into -the play, with an imaginative readiness which the King had somehow -never suspected. - -The birds called cheerily from the garden. The whir of the haycutting -machines was audible once again; but they were not so near the house, -as on the previous day. Clearly the harvest was being gathered in the -more distant fields. The sunshine lay pure gold everywhere-- - -The King found himself noticing these things, and registering them in -his mind, as if this was to be the last time that he was to sit there, -in Paradise, enjoying them. - -The last time? - -It might be-- - -At last the meal ended. - -First of all, Judith rose to her feet, and drove the Imps, armed with -lumps of sugar, before her, along the verandah, to say good morning to -Diana's foal in the paddock. - -Then, a minute or two later, Uncle Bond slipped away, unostentatiously, -into the house. - -The King, and his friend, the Duke, were thus left alone, at the table, -facing each other. - -A sudden, odd desire to postpone what was coming, whatever was coming, -beset the King. Producing his tobacco pouch and pipe, he filled his -pipe leisurely. - -The Duke betrayed no sign of impatience. A certain large patience, -it occurred to the King, was, perhaps, the Duke's most pronounced -characteristic. - -The King lit his pipe. - -Then he looked at the Duke. - -The Duke smiled. - -"Your little holiday is over. Your short leave of absence is at an end, -sir," he said. "I told you, you may remember, sir, that it would only -be a short leave of absence." - -"You have come--for me?" the King asked. - -"Yes." - -"I am ready to go with you--back to duty," the King said slowly. "There -is nothing, I think, to keep me here." - -Then he stood up, abruptly. - -"But we can't talk here," he exclaimed. "Shall we walk?" - -The Duke stood up in turn. - -Together, they stepped down from the verandah. - -The King led the way on to the lawn. - -At the moment, his desire for movement was paramount. - -They crossed to the far end of the lawn, and turned, in silence. Then -the King took the Duke's arm. - -"I am ready to hear what you have to say," he said. - -The Duke shortened his long stride, and fell into step with the King. - -"I am here to ask you to return to the palace, sir," he said. "The -crisis is over. The strike has failed. The success of the protective -measures which we judged necessary has been overwhelming. Within an -hour of the declaration of Martial Law and the operation of the 'Gamma' -scheme, all the revolutionary leaders of the strike conspiracy were in -custody. They are now at sea, on board the _Iron Duke_. I could not -resist that little pleasantry. The _Iron Duke_ sailed under sealed -orders--for Bermuda, sir. The strike leaders will be interned there. - -"The police have carried out their orders throughout with a skill, and -a discretion, worthy of the highest praise. The military have been -welcomed, with open arms everywhere. So far as we are aware, up to the -present, law and order have been maintained with hardly a casualty. -It has, in fact, been not so much a battle of the police and of the -military, as of propaganda, sir. Our control of communications has been -the foundation of our success. From the first, by a series of official -bulletins, we have been able to put the facts of the situation before -the whole nation, with a minimum of delay. - -"There can no longer be any doubt, sir, that we were correct in our -assumption that the great majority of trades unionists, up and down -the country, had been deceived into the belief that the strike had -been called for purely industrial reasons. Once we had succeeded in -convincing them, by our bulletins, that they had been betrayed into -the hands of a little group of foreign, revolutionary extremists, the -strike was doomed. The anger of the deceived trades unionists has, -ironically enough, been one of our few embarrassments. In many parts -of the country, the military have had to protect the local trades -union leaders, many of whom appear to have been as grossly deceived as -anybody else, from the loyal fury of their followers. - -"Mark that word loyal, sir! A great outburst of loyalty to you -personally, sir, has been the outcome of the crisis. That you should -have been subjected to such a crisis, before you had been given any -opportunity to show your worth, has outraged the whole nation's sense -of fair play. From all sections of the community, both here at home, -and in the Dominions, messages of the most fervent loyalty have been -pouring into Downing Street, during the last twenty-four hours. At the -moment, you are the most popular man in the Empire, sir. The fact that, -as soon as I had assured you that law and order would be maintained, -you left the palace, and withdrew at once into the country, rather -than take any part in the conflict, has greatly strengthened your hold -on the people, sir. You left the palace, and withdrew to an unknown -address, in the country, yesterday, sir, until the will of the people -should be made known. You will return to the palace, today, sir, on the -crest of a wave of enthusiasm, unparalleled, I think, in our history." - -"You want me to return to the palace, with you, at once?" the King -asked. - -"I have no wish to hurry you, sir," the Duke replied. "But the sooner -you return to the palace, and the Royal Standard is run up again on -the palace flagstaff, the sooner will the existing state of a national -emergency be at an end." - -"I will come with you at once," the King said. "But first of all--I -must take leave of my friends." - -His eyes were fixed, as he spoke, on Judith, who had just reappeared, -alone, on the verandah. - -The Duke followed the King's glance. Then he fell back, two or three -paces, and bowed with the hint of formality by which he was in the -habit of suggesting, so subtly, and yet so unmistakably, that he was -dealing with--the King. - -The King moved straight across the lawn to Judith. - -Judith stepped down from the verandah, and came slowly forward towards -him. - -They met on the edge of the lawn. - -"I am going back to town, at once, with the Duke," the King announced. -"The Duke has come to fetch me. The crisis is over. The strike has -failed. But you know that, of course--" - -He paused there, for a moment, suddenly conscious of the utter -ineptitude of what he was saying-- - -And then words came to him, fitting words, words to which, up to then, -he had given no thought, but in which all his feelings for, all his -thoughts about, Judith, so long suppressed, seemed, suddenly, to -crystallize, and find inevitable expression-- - -"If thanks were necessary between us, I would thank you for all that -you have done for me," he said. "But thanks are not necessary between -us, are they? Where there is--friendship--there is no need for thanks. -You said, yesterday, that you knew that there could be no change in -our friendship, and that you were content that it should be so. You -were right, of course. You are always right. You said what you did -to reassure me, to relieve my anxiety, to remove the uncertainty -about--our position--which was troubling me, although I was hardly -aware that that was my trouble. What you said did reassure me. It did -relieve my anxiety. But now, I want to say something, as plainly as I -can, to you. It seems to me that what I have to say is--due to you-- - -"If I were merely Alfred, the sailor, of our friendship, I should stay -here, now, with you. I should stay with you always. I should ask you -to join your life to mine. I should ask you to make--Paradise--for -me, wherever we were. If I were merely Alfred, the sailor, you would -say--yes--gladly-- - -"But I am not merely Alfred, the sailor. I am--the King. Alfred, the -sailor is--dead. Is it his epitaph that I am speaking now? I--the -King--am going--back to duty. I am going back to try to take hold of my -job--in a new way. I am going back, to try to think--first of England, -and never of myself. I am trying to do that now-- - -"But, before I go, I want to make you a promise. I want to--pledge -myself--to you, as far as I can. It will give me--a certain -satisfaction--to bind myself to you, as far as I can. - -"I will never marry--" - -Judith stood, motionless, beside him, while he spoke. Her beautiful -vivid face was pale for once, and her dark eyes were troubled, as if -with painful thought. But she met his glance without flinching, and her -voice, when she spoke, was firm, if low. - -"I think, I hope, you will marry, Alfred," she said. "But I am glad, -and proud, that you have said what you have. It was--like you, to say -it. It is--an acknowledgment--that I shall never forget, as long as I -live-- - -"I will give you--a pledge--in return. Whatever happens, you will -always be welcome here. Whatever happens, you will always find the same -welcome here. You will never find--any changes here. I don't think -Alfred, the sailor, is dead. I don't think he will ever die--as long -as you live! For us, here, at any rate, you will always be--our friend -Alfred!" - -Once again, the King was conscious that Judith understood him better -than he understood himself. Once again--was it for the last time?--it -seemed to him that she had explained him to himself. What did all his -talk amount to? An acknowledgment of the right, of the claim, that -Judith had established upon him--that was all. - -That was all--he could offer to her. That was all--she could accept-- - -As unaccountably, and as suddenly then as they had come to him, before, -words failed him. - -Abruptly, he turned from Judith, and hurried away from her, round the -side of the house-- - -On the verandah, beside the front door, the Duke and Uncle Bond were -standing together deep in talk. Uncle Bond was holding the King's coat, -and cap. - -As the King approached, the Duke shook hands very cordially with Uncle -Bond, and then stepped down from the verandah, and crossed to a large -closed motor car, which was drawn up in the drive near by, with the -uniformed chauffeur standing stiffly to attention at its open door. - -For a moment, the King thought of passing Uncle Bond without speaking. -But that, of course, was impossible. And yet--what could he say? - -He need not have troubled himself. - -Uncle Bond might distrust, but he never had any difficulty in finding -words. - -The little man handed the King his coat, and his cap. - -Then he spoke. - -"This," he said, with a sweeping gesture which seemed to include the -sunlit garden, the wooded landscape beyond, the house, and even Judith -and himself, "has all been a dream, my boy. But it is now high time -that you should awake out of sleep. Your real life is beginning now." - -The King wrung the little man's hand in silence, and then followed the -Duke to the waiting car. - -The Duke was already seated inside the car. - -The King got into the car, and sat down beside him. - -The uniformed chauffeur, whose keen, clean-shaven face was motionless, -impassive, a mask, shut the door, and hurried round to the front of -the car, and started the engine. - -A moment later, the car leapt forward and swept down the drive out -into, and up, the narrow, tree-shadowed lane beyond. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - - -At the top of the lane, a little group of Army officers in khaki -service dress, who were standing on a strip of grass beside the hedge -on the right, sprang smartly to attention, and saluted, as the car -swept past them. - -Mechanically, the King raised his hand to his cap. - -A moment later, as the car rushed out on to the Great North Road, he -realized, with a start, that this salute, and his acknowledgment of it, -marked, definitely, his return to duty. - -Alfred, the sailor, was indeed dead. - -It was--the King--who had raised his hand to his cap. - -Instinctively, he had resumed his place in the procession. - -It had been just as Judith had said. The shadow thrown by his Royal -rank had been waiting for him there in the lane, behind him-- - -"That was battalion headquarters, the Coldstreams, Colonel Varney -Wilson in command," the Duke explained. "It is they who have been -responsible for your safety, during the last twenty-four hours, sir." - -The King nodded; but made no other reply. - -The Duke shot one of his shrewd, penetrating glances at the King. Then -the old statesman leant far back in his corner in the luxuriously -upholstered car. He did not speak again. - -The King was grateful to the Duke for his silence, and for the ready -understanding of his mood which that silence implied. - -"When an action speaks for itself, why use words? They will probably be -the wrong words." - -That was Uncle Bond! - -He was going back to duty. That was quite enough at the moment. He did -not want to talk about it-- - -The car rushed on up the broad, empty, sunlit road. - -Although it was still so early in the day, the cattle were already -lying under the green shade of the trees, in the fields. The hedges on -either side of the road were white with the blossoms of the wild rose. -Overhead the sky was a luminous blue, unflecked by cloud-- - -This was Paradise that he was rushing through. This was Paradise that -he was leaving. Would he ever return? Perhaps he would. But never with -his old recklessness, never with his old lightness of heart. So much -had happened. He had been through so much. He had changed. There was a -heaviness of thought, a deadness of feeling, within him, now, which he -had never known before. It was as if he had lost something, lost some -part of himself, which he would never be able to recover. Was it his -youth? - -The car swept on, smoothly, inexorably, without a check, at a high -speed-- - -Was his real life beginning now? Uncle Bond again! Had he been living -in a dream? Had he not often felt that he was living in a dream? a -wild, grotesque, nightmare dream? But that had always been at the -palace. Here, in Paradise, it had seemed to him that he was in touch -with reality. And now, Paradise itself, and all that had happened -there, seemed a dream. High time to awake out of sleep? He would be -glad to awake. He would be glad to touch the real. But would he ever -awake? - -The rushing, throbbing car, the motionless figure of the Duke at his -side, the broad, winding road, the sunlit, peaceful, countryside, -his own thoughts--all these things were the very stuff of dreams, -fantastic, unbelievable, unreal. His deadness of feeling, his heaviness -of thought, were dream. His lost youth was dream. This silence? No one -ever spoke in dreams-- - -At last the throbbing car slowed down suddenly; then stopped. - -The Duke was up, and out of the car, in a moment. - -The King followed the old statesman out on to the road more leisurely. - -An odd, unexpected turn, this, in the dream, but dream, assuredly still -dream-- - -It was a vivid little dream scene which followed. - -The car had pulled up at the Paradise-Hades signpost of all places. -That could only have happened in dream-- - -A little group of saluting soldiers, and bareheaded civilian officials, -stood under the familiar signpost. - -Half a dozen cars were parked in the side road, behind them. - -In the centre of the main road stood an open state carriage, with a -team of six grey horses, in the charge of postillions and out-riders, -who were wearing the scarlet coats, and white breeches of the Royal -livery. - -A bodyguard of Household Cavalry, whose swords, breastplates and plumed -helmets glittered in the sun, were drawn up near by. - -The King turned to the Duke. - -The veteran Prime Minister smiled. - -"This is where you begin your triumphant return to your capital, sir," -he said. "A great welcome awaits you, between here and the palace. The -Cabinet were making the necessary arrangements when I left town this -morning. You will permit me to follow you to the carriage, sir?" - -People did speak in dreams, then--sometimes-- - -Mechanically, the King moved slowly along the sunlit road, towards the -carriage, followed by the Duke at a distance of some half dozen paces. - -An extraordinary dream this, amazingly vivid and minute in its detail; -but dream, certainly dream. If only he could awake! Where would he -awake? In the palace? In Paradise? He must awake soon-- - -The King got into the state carriage, and sat down. - -The scarlet coated footman, who had held open the carriage door, was -about to shut it again--when the King missed the Duke from his side-- - -A terrifying thrill of loneliness, a horror of his sudden isolation, -ran through the King. - -He turned hastily. - -The Duke was standing, drawn up to his full height, with bared head, a -magnificent, a real, a vital figure, in this sunlit world of phantom -shadows, some yards away from the carriage. - -The King beckoned to him desperately. - -The Duke was at his side in a moment. - -"You must not leave me. You must come with me. I cannot face -this--nightmare--alone," the King said in an urgent whisper. "I -shall--lose my reason--if you leave me. I am not sure now, at this -moment, whether I am asleep or awake. Do people talk in dreams? You -seem real. All the rest, everything else is--the stuff of dreams. You -cannot leave me." - -The Duke waved the scarlet coated footman to one side, and got into the -carriage, and sat down beside the King. His mere physical presence, -his vitality, his energy, at once steadied the King. For one terrible -moment, it had seemed to him that he was falling through infinite -space-- - -A couple of the cars parked in the side road, beyond the signpost, shot -forward, and swept on ahead up the main road. - -A momentary bustle, a general movement, at the cross road, followed. - -A curt word of command rang out, and the Household Cavalry wheeled, -with the precision of clockwork, into position, in front of, and -behind, the state carriage. - -The scarlet coated footmen sprang up on to their stand, at the back -of the carriage. The out-riders swung clear into their places. The -postillions whipped up their horses-- - -The carriage moved forward. - -As the carriage moved forward, the Duke dropped his left hand on to the -seat, between the King and himself. - -"Take my hand. Grip it, sir!" he said. "I am real! Do not hesitate, -sir. We are quite unobserved. A time comes in most men's lives when -they need--the grip of the hand of a friend. I am an old man, sir; -old enough to be your father. When you take my hand, it is as if you -reached out and gripped your father's hand-- - -"I would have spared you all this, I would have spared you the ordeal -of the wild enthusiasm which awaits you, a little further on, if it -had been possible, sir. But it was not possible. I realized the risks -involved--all the risks, and they are considerable. I counted the -cost--to you. But the end to be attained far outweighs the price to -be paid. The spectacular, the triumphant, return to the palace, which -you are just beginning, sir, will do more to consolidate your hold on -the people than anything else could have done. The psychology of the -mob is, and must always remain, an incalculable force; but, with a -little skill, with a little courage, with a little patience, it can be -controlled, it can be used." - -The King hardly heard what the Duke said. But the grip of the old man's -hand on his was as a rock to cling to. This was what he had wanted; -something tangible, actual, real to hold on to, in this dream world of -sunlit phantoms which enveloped him. He was no longer alone. With the -Duke like this at his side, he could face whatever twists and turns -their dream might take. It was _their_ dream, now-- - -The carriage moved slowly forward, but, slowly as it moved, it soon -entered--the outskirts of Hades-- - -In the outer suburbs, all the scattered, decorous, red-tiled villas -were gay with flags, gayer than they had been in that other life, ages -ago, on the Coronation Day. At various points on the road now stood -little groups of people, the vanguard of the thousand, flushed, curious -faces, the thousand eyes-- - -With these people, the cheering began, the waving of flags, the wild -frenzy. - -The King felt the Duke's hand tighten on his-- - -The crowd thickened. The little groups became two continuous lines -of people, on either side of the road, people closely packed in deep -ranks, behind cordons of policemen. - -The cheering grew in volume, took on a deeper note, became a continuous -roar-- - -At first, the King smiled, and bowed, mechanically, to the left, and to -the right, as he sat in the carriage. - -Soon he found himself standing up, bareheaded, in the carriage, so that -all the people could see him. - -The Duke, who had sunk far back into the carriage, supported him from -behind against his knees. - -Yes. The Duke was there-- - -Always the crowd grew, and the cheering increased in volume. - -In the inner suburbs, the flags were thicker than ever. Every window -was open, and full of flushed, excited, smiling faces. Many of the -roofs of the shops and houses were black with people. Down below, in -the road, as the carriage moved slowly forward, the crowd swayed to -and fro, in a frenzy of enthusiasm. Flowers fell, thick and fast, in -a multi-coloured rain, in front of the carriage. Here and there, at -conspicuous street corners, men in working dress tore, or trampled -upon, or burnt, the Red Flag of the revolutionary-- - -It was a universal outpouring of pent-up feeling, a delirium of -enthusiasm, without parallel-- - -The King himself could not remain, for long, unaffected. In spite -of himself, in spite of his determination not to be deceived by the -chimeras of this fevered, sunlit, daydream, he was caught up on, he -was thrilled by, the wild enthusiasm which surged about him. His pulse -quickened. He trembled where he stood in the carriage-- - -And then, suddenly, a strange thing happened to him. - -It was as if scales fell from his eyes, and he could see. It was as -if some weight that had been pressing upon his brain was lifted, and -he could think clearly, sanely. He had been not far from the verge of -madness. Now he was himself again-- - -This was no dream. These people at whom he was smiling, these people to -whom he was bowing, mechanically, right and left, were actual, real. -This roar of cheers meant something. It rang true. It was genuine. It -was sincere. These cheers, repeated, over and over again, never ending, -had a new, deep, unmistakable personal note, which he had never heard -before. This was no half-hearted, perfunctory enthusiasm. These people -were glad to see him. They were cheering--him. And they meant it! They -were--his people. And he was--their King-- - -A thrill of triumph, an exultation which shook him, from head to foot, -as he stood in the carriage, ran through the King. - -And then it left him, and, in its place, came a sickening chill. - -But these people, his people, did not know what had happened, what he -had done, how lightly he had held them. If they knew the true, the -inner, history of the last twenty-four hours, would they cheer him -like this? - -All his former impatience with, his contempt for, himself, at that -moment, returned to the King. - -What right had he to be standing there, smiling and bowing in -acknowledgment of this wild, this fervent, enthusiasm? He had done -nothing to earn it. He had forfeited all right to it-- - -It was the old statesman behind him, sitting far back in the carriage, -who ought to be standing there, in his place--in the place of -honour--in the forefront of--this procession-- - -Swinging round in the carriage, the King beckoned, impetuously, to the -Duke, to stand up beside him. - -For a moment, the veteran Prime Minister hesitated. - -Then he stood up beside the King, in the carriage, towering head and -shoulders above him. - -The King took the Duke's arm. - -The cheering redoubled-- - -And so, with the Duke in as prominent a place as the King could give -him, as prominent a place as his own, the carriage moved on, through -the dust and the clamour, and the wild cheering, into the heart of the -town-- - -By this time, the heat, the glitter and the glare, and the frenzied -enthusiasm which surged all about him, had begun to tell upon the King. -The physical strain of it all became almost unendurable, deadening the -impressions which for some few minutes had been so vivid, so clear. -The thousand, flushed, smiling faces, the thousand eyes troubled -him no more. The crowd became a mere blurred, dark, clamorous mass, -swaying to and fro, on either side of him. Only the Duke remained -distinct, individual, standing bolt upright beside him in the carriage, -impassive, immovable, a rock to lean upon, physically, and morally, as -he smiled and bowed, this way and that, with unseeing eyes-- - -How long the torture of this later stage of their journey lasted, the -King never knew. It had become torture now. All sense of time, and -distance, and place left him. He had no clear idea of the route which -the carriage followed. His body ached from head to foot. The roaring -of the crowd was a mere whisper to the roaring within his own ears. He -leant more and more heavily upon the Duke-- - -At last, at the end of an eternity of effort, an eternity of strained -endurance, the carriage swung through Trafalgar Square, and so passed, -under the lavishly decorated Admiralty Arch, into the Mall. - -The white front of the palace, at the far end of the Mall, was now in -sight. - -This sudden, abrupt glimpse of the palace, and the promise of ultimate -release and rest it afforded, served to arouse the King, and revived -his interest, momentarily, in his immediate surroundings. - -In the Mall, the Coronation flags still hung, flaunting and gay, in the -sunlight. On either side of the road, the stands from which the guests -of the Government had viewed the Coronation procession were once again -crowded with people, whose enthusiasm was as wild, and whose cheering -was as loud, as the carriage moved slowly past them, as that at any -other point along the whole route. - -One detail in the riot of colour, and the tumult, about him, caught the -King's attention. - -The road was no longer lined by the police, and the military. In their -place stood men in every variety of civilian dress, alike alone in -this, that every one of them was wearing war medals proudly displayed, -in the majority of cases on very threadbare coats. - -The King turned abruptly to the Duke. - -"Who are these men with medals?" he asked. - -"The Legion of Veterans, sir," the Duke replied. "Their old -Commander-in-Chief raised his hand, and thousands of them fell in, -at once, all over the country. They reinforced the police and the -military. There was no need for us to enrol special constables. The -Field Marshal asked that they might be given some post of honour today -in recognition of their services. It was decided that they should line -the Mall here, and provide an auxiliary guard at the palace." - -And so, guarded now by men whose loyalty had been tried and tested -on a dozen battlefields, the carriage passed up the Mall, and swung, -at last, through the great central, wrought iron gates, into the -quadrangle, in front of the palace-- - -The Duke was down, and out of the carriage, in a moment. - -The King stepped out of the carriage, after him. - -The Duke fell back, half a dozen paces behind the King, and a little to -one side-- - -A massed band of the Guards, drawn up in the centre of the quadrangle -began to play the National Anthem. - -High up, on the flagstaff above the palace roof, the Royal Standard -rose, and, caught by the wind, shook out, at once, every inch of its -silken folds. - -Above the flagstaff a score, or more, of decorated aeroplanes swerved, -and dived, firing red, white, and blue rockets, a signal seen all over -London. - -The bells of Westminster rang out joyously, followed by the bells of -all the city churches. - -From the Green Park, on the right, came the sudden thunder of the guns -of a Royal salute. - -But louder than the guns, drowning their thunder, the joyous music of -the bells, and the music of the band, rose the cheers of the people, -near and far, a deep, rhythmical, continuous roar-- - -For a moment or two, the King remained motionless, rigid, in -acknowledgment of the salute. - -Then he turned sharply to his right, and moved across the quadrangle, -followed by the Duke at a distance of some paces, to the main entrance -door of the palace. - -On either side of the palace steps, within the doorway, and in the -hall beyond, were ranged Cabinet Ministers, military and naval -representatives, and high officials of the Court, and the household -staff. - -The King passed them by only vaguely conscious of their presence, and -made straight for the great central, main staircase in the palace. - -He knew, now, by instinct, rather than by conscious thought, what he -had to do. - -His concern was with the immense crowd round the palace, whose wild -cheering he could still hear, even here as he ascended the staircase. - -He must show himself to the people-- - -At the head of the staircase, followed more closely now by the Duke, -the King turned into the little withdrawing room, from which the huge -windows, above the main entrance of the palace, opened. - -The windows had been flung wide open. - -The King crossed the room, and stepped through the windows out on to -the stone balcony, above the main entrance. - -A great roar of cheers, a wild waving of flags and hands, from which he -all but recoiled, greeted his appearance. - -The Duke halted, behind him, out of sight, just inside the windows-- - -For the next twenty or thirty minutes, save for brief rests in a chair, -placed in readiness for him in the little withdrawing room behind -him, the King was out on the balcony, bareheaded, in the blazing noon -sunshine, smiling and bowing in acknowledgment of the wild enthusiasm -of the crowd. - -The people were insatiable. - -Over and over again, when he sought to prolong his all too short rests -in the little room behind him, he was compelled to return to the -balcony, in response to the insistent, the tumultuous demands of the -crowd. - -Once or twice, he made the Duke appear on the balcony, at his side. But -the people clearly preferred his solitary appearances-- - -The little room behind him gradually filled. A number of the more -important Court officials, and certain privileged members of the -household staff, gathered there, and stood in little groups, well back -from the windows. - -Once, as he threw himself into his chair, a tall, distinguished -looking, grey-haired man, whom he recognized dully as his physician, -detached himself from one of these little groups, approached him, -held his pulse for a moment, and then, without speaking, handed him a -glassful of some colourless stimulant which he drank, although it made -no impression whatever on his palate. - -Later, back in the glaring sunlight on the balcony once again, he was -conscious of the help of the physician's draught. His senses were -quickened. He felt less fatigued. But he knew, as the roar of the -seething crowd round the palace came up to him once more, that this -would have to be one of the last of his appearances. For a little -longer, he could hold out, using the factitious energy with which the -stimulant had temporarily endowed him. Then must come collapse-- - -At that moment, there was a sudden movement down below in the -quadrangle. - -A man, who seemed to dart out from amongst a little knot of men in -civilian dress, on the left, just inside the quadrangle railings, a -man on whose breast war medals glittered in the sun, dashed across the -quadrangle, towards the main entrance of the palace. - -The King watched him idly, curiously-- - -Suddenly, the man's right arm swung up, once, twice-- - -Then the King felt himself caught up, violently, from behind. - -Flung, bodily, back from the balcony, through the huge open windows, he -fell, heavily, on the floor of the little room within. - -The windows were blocked now by a familiar tall figure, by a pair of -familiar, broad shoulders-- - -A moment later there were two, short, sharp explosions. Bombs. Then a -great clatter of falling glass-- - -The King was up on his feet, in a moment. - -A great cry of horror went up from the immense crowd round the palace. - -The King took a step forward. - -Immediately half a dozen strong hands were laid upon him to hold him -back. - -There, on the balcony, immediately in front of him, in the litter of -broken glass from the huge windows, lay the Duke, motionless, at full -length, bleeding from a dozen jagged wounds. - -A madness, a fury, which culminated in a passionate resentment of the -hands that were holding him back, took possession of the King. - -Hardly knowing what he did, he struck out, right and left, savagely, -viciously, with all his force. - -In a moment he was free-- - -He stepped out on to the balcony. - -Led by the tall, grey-haired physician, four or five of the Court -officials followed him, hard on his heels, picked up the Duke, and -carried him back into the safety of the little room within-- - -Down below in the quadrangle, another limp, huddled figure was being -borne, hurriedly, and unceremoniously by red-coated soldiers, whose -fixed bayonets caught the sun, in the direction of the guardroom, on -the right. There was no life in that figure-- - -Beyond the palace railings, the maddened, infuriated crowd swayed -to and fro in great billows of pent-up fury, an ocean of clamorous, -tumultuous passion, striving to break its bounds, to the accompaniment -of animal cries of anger, and the confused shouting of a thousand -voices. - -The King took it all in at a glance. A sudden, strange calm, a sure, -quiet confidence were with him now. - -The anger of the crowd was hideous, menacing. The line of the military, -and the police, between the crowd and the palace tossed up and down, -like a line of corks on a wild, tempestuous sea. At any moment, that -line might break, and the infuriated mob would be let loose, with its -madness, its lust for blood, its wild shouting for lynch law. - -Anything might happen, at any moment, unless something was done, and -done quickly. - -And he was the man who must take action-- - -Without haste, surely, and skilfully, the King climbed on to the stone -parapet of the balcony. - -Then he drew himself up to his full height, and held up his hand-- - -He had no fear. He knew no doubt. He had no anxiety. - -He knew what he had to do. - -This was his moment. - -He had found himself. - -Never again, it seemed to him, at the moment, would he know doubt, -anxiety or fear-- - -For some time, the wild frenzy of the crowd, down below, beyond the -palace railings continued unabated. Then some of the people caught -sight of the bareheaded, slim, incredibly boyish figure, in the -inconspicuous grey lounge suit, standing on his precarious, windswept -perch, on the parapet of the balcony. Then others saw him. Slowly, the -surge of the crowd slackened. Slowly, the pandemonium died down. At -last, the tumult and the uproar gave place to a universal, joyous cry-- - -"The King! The King!" - -Then a great silence fell. - -The King dropped his hand to his side, and spoke. His voice rang out -loud and clear, the voice of a sailor, trained to pitch his voice, -instinctively, to carry as far as possible in the open air. - -"My people"--the words rose simply and naturally to his lips, thrilling -him as he used them--"this was to have been a day of great national -rejoicing. It has been turned, in a moment, into a day of great -national mourning. I am unhurt, untouched. But a greater man than I, -the Duke of Northborough, lies dying in the room behind me. He gave his -life for mine." His voice shook a little. "From this moment, I hold my -life, a sacred trust, at his hands. - -"I will say nothing, now, of the madman, whose madness has been used -as the instrument to strike down an old man, whose long and noble life -has been devoted wholly to the best interests of our country. Death has -already closed that madman's account. Nor will I speak, now, of the -men, whose wild and reckless talk makes such madness possible. Such men -turn, naturally, to assassination and murder, in defeat. - -"I ask you, now, not to disturb the last moments of the great man, who -has just crowned his long and noble life with the 'greater love,' -before which we all bare and bow our heads, by any retaliation, by any -outburst, by any demonstration, of the wilder passions against which -he always set his face like flint. I ask you, now, to disperse, as -quietly, and as quickly, as you can, and return to your own homes, the -homes which the great man we mourn, within the last twenty-four hours, -has guarded from the anarchy of revolution, and maintained in peace. - -"I know I shall not ask in vain." - -A low murmur rose from the crowd, while the King spoke. The people, on -the edge of the crowd nearest to the palace, repeated what he said, -to those behind them. They repeated it again. And so, in this almost -miraculous way, something of what he said reached to the furthest -limits of the immense crowd, and even spread beyond, through the -thronged streets of the city. - -There was a tense, breathless pause, when the King had finished -speaking-- - -Then the bandmaster, down below in the palace quadrangle, had an -inspiration. - -He raised his baton. - -A moment later the massed band of the Guards began to play "God Save -the King." - -For a time, the huge crowd still hesitated. Then some one began to -sing. Next moment the whole crowd was singing, with a deep volume of -sound, like the sound of many waters-- - -"Long to reign over us: - -"God save the King"-- - -Over and over again, the band played the national melody. Over and over -again, the crowd sang the familiar words, finding in them, at last, an -outlet for all their pent-up passions-- - -And then, suddenly, still singing with undiminished fervour, slowly, -and quietly, in marvellous order, as if they had been soldiers on -parade, the people began to move away. - -The King climbed down from his perilous, windswept perch on the -parapet, on to the balcony again. - -Then he turned, and passed through the shattered windows into the -little room behind him-- - -They had laid the Duke on the floor of the room. The tall, grey-haired -physician stood at the dying statesman's head. All that medical skill -could do to ease his passing had been done. Already he was far beyond -the reach of any human aid. - -The brilliant summer sunshine shone full on the familiar, formidable, -massive features, deathly white, now. - -The eyes were closed. - -The King knelt down at the old statesman's side. - -Some obscure instinct prompted him to take the old man's hand--the -hand which had done so much for him, the hand which had never failed -him,--the hand which had saved him, from himself-- - -The Duke responded to his touch. Feebly he returned his pressure. - -Then, slowly, he opened his eyes, luminous and clear even in death. - -He recognized the King. - -Faintly he smiled. - -Then his lips moved as if in speech. - -The King bent down over him. - -"God--save--the King," the Duke muttered. - -No doubt, the singing of the crowd outside the palace had reached the -dying man's ears-- - -The King did not speak. It seemed to him that there was no need for -words. He felt that the Duke knew all his thoughts. He knew that the -Duke was glad to have him, now, at the last, at his side. - -It was a strange moment of deep, and intimate communion between them-- - -Strangest of all, there was no sadness in it, now, for the King. - -This man had done his work. This man had rounded off his life's work, -with a completeness, which it is given to few men to achieve. - -The lightning conductor had taken the full shock of the lightning -flash, and then fallen. - -For the future, he--the King--would be alone. - -But that was a small matter, now-- - -In the presence of this great man's triumphant self-sacrifice, any -thought of self seemed irreverence-- - -Some minutes passed. - -Then the Duke's lips moved again-- - -"We shall not all sleep--but we shall all be changed--in a moment, in -the twinkling of an eye--for the trumpet shall sound--and we shall be -changed--" - -The King bowed his head-- - -For this man, surely, all the trumpets would sound on the other side. -For this man--they would crowd the battlements of Heaven to see him -enter-- - -A little later, the physician touched the King on the shoulder. - -The King stood up. - -The physician bent down, and straightened the Duke's arms. - -Then he turned, and faced the King. - -"It is finished, sir," he said. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING WHO WENT ON -STRIKE *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The King Who Went on Strike</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Pearson Choate</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 11, 2022 [eBook #67147]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Graeme Mackreth and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING WHO WENT ON STRIKE ***</div> - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -<p class="ph1">THE KING WHO<br /> -WENT ON STRIKE</p> - -<p class="ph5">BY</p> - -<p class="ph4">PEARSON CHOATE</p> - -<p class="ph6">Author of "Men Limited: An Impertinence"</p> -<p class="ph6" style="margin-top:15em;"> -"And those things do best please me<br /> -That befal preposterously."</p> - -<p class="ph6" style="margin-left:15em;"><span class="smcap">Puck</span></p> - -<p class="ph6">"A Midsummer Night's Dream."</p> -<p class="ph6" style="margin-left:15em;">Act. III. Scene II.</p> - - - -<p class="ph5" style="margin-top:15em;">NEW YORK</p> -<p class="ph5">DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY</p> -<p class="ph5">1924</p> - - - - - - -<p class="ph6" style="margin-top:15em;"><span class="smcap">Copyright</span>, 1924</p> -<p class="ph6"><span class="smcap">By DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY, Inc.</span></p> - -<p class="ph6">PRINTED IN U.S.A.</p> - -<p class="ph6">VAIL-BALLOU PRESS, INC.<br /> -BINGHAMTON AND NEW YORK</p> - - - - - -<blockquote> - -<p class="center" style="margin-top:15em;"> Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has -been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried -it, and they cut the rope."</p> - - -<p style="margin-left:15em;">"The French Revolution, A History."</p> -<p style="margin-left:17em;">Part I. Book VII. Chapter XI</p> -<p style="margin-left:19em;"><i>Thomas Carlyle</i></p> - -</blockquote> - - - - - - - -<p class="ph2" style="margin-top:10em;">THE KING WHO WENT ON STRIKE</p> - - - - -<p class="ph2" >CHAPTER I</p> - - -<p><span class="figleft"><img src="images/chap1.jpg" alt="pic" /></span> - -<span class="uppercase">he</span> King leant against the stone balustrade, which runs round the -roof of Buckingham Palace, and looked about him. All around him, -above him, and below him, the night was ablaze with a myriad lights. -Loyal Londoners, in accordance with their custom, were closing their -Coronation celebrations with illuminations, with fireworks, and with -good-humoured horse-play in the crowded streets. In spite of gloomy -predictions to the contrary, the proverbial Coronation weather of the -last day or two had not failed. A radiant June day had given place to -a wonderful June night. Here, on the palace roof, high up above the -tumult and the shouting the night air was cool and fragrant. The King -rested his elbows on the broad top of the carved stone balustrade. He -was very weary. But he was glad to be out in the open air once again. -And he was gladder still, at last, to be alone—</p> - -<p>"A tall, fair, goodlooking young man, still in the early twenties, -with an open, almost boyish face": "A young man of athletic build, -clean-shaven, and very like his dead brother, the Prince, but lacking, -perhaps, something of the Prince's personal distinction, and charm": -"Thick, fair, curly hair, blue eyes, and a happy, smiling mouth": -"A typical young English naval officer, with an eager, boyish face, -unclouded, as yet, by any shadow of his high destiny"—it was in -phrases such as these that the descriptive writers in the newspapers -had described, more or less adequately, the new King's outward -appearance. What he was inwardly, what the inner man thought, and felt, -and suffered, was not within their province, or their knowledge. At the -moment, his outward appearance was completed by an easy fitting, black, -smoking jacket, plain evening dress trousers, and a pair of shabby -dancing pumps, into which he had changed immediately after the state -banquet, which had been the final ordeal of his long and exhausting -official day. It was characteristic of the inner man, about whom so -little was known, that he should have been thus impatient to throw -off the gorgeous uniform, and the many unearned decorations, which the -banquet had necessitated. It was characteristic of him, too, that he -should be bareheaded, now, and drawing absently at a pipe, which he had -forgotten to fill—</p> - -<p>All the crowded events of the long, tense, and exhausting Coronation -Day which was, at last, happily at an end had seemed strangely unreal -to the King. The slow and stately progress to the Abbey in the morning, -the huge gilt state coach, the team of cream horses, the gold-coated -powdered footmen, the bodyguard of plumed Household Cavalry, the -decorated streets, the crowds, the wild cheering, the thousand faces, -the thousand eyes, his own mechanical bowing, his own mechanical smile; -the protracted, exhausting ceremony in the Abbey, the ermine-caped -peers and peeresses, the grotesque gorgeously clad officers of state, -the tall figure of the venerable Archbishop with his hands raised -in benediction, his own heavy royal robes, the Crown, the bursts of -music and of song, the pealing bells, the brilliant uniforms of the -soldiery; the streets once again, the crowds and the wild cheering, his -own mechanical bowing, his own mechanical smile, the heat, the glitter -and the glare, the tension, the thousand flushed curious faces, the -thousand eyes, the slow movement of the coach, the secret, hidden, -inward fear; the all too short rest in the afternoon, with its few -minutes of troubled, nightmare sleep; the interminable state banquet in -the evening, the gold plate, the uniforms, the colours, and the lights, -the Family, strangely subservient, the congratulations, the speeches, -the homage; the dense crowd round the palace after the banquet, his own -repeated appearance at the huge, open window above the main entrance, -the night air, the thousand eyes yet once again, the cheering, and the -lights—all these things had been unreal, unbelievable, the bewildering -phantasmagoria of a fevered dream—</p> - -<p>Now, as he leant against the roof balustrade, the same sense of -unreality which had haunted him all day was still with him.</p> - -<p>But he compelled himself to look at the blazing illuminations, none the -less.</p> - -<p>A man could not afford to live, indefinitely, in a fevered dream.</p> - -<p>The trees in the densely thronged Mall were hung with innumerable, -coloured electric lights. A blaze of yellow, smokeless flambeaux, on -the left, marked the line of Carlton House Terrace. "God Save the -King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second"—house after house, in -the terrace, repeated the loyal prayers in glittering letters of fire. -The same devices were reproduced, in a picturesque setting of crowns -and flags, on the lavishly illuminated Admiralty Arch. Beyond was the -glare of Trafalgar Square, where the Nelson Column, pricked out in -red, white, and blue lamps, soared aloft, a shaft of vivid colours -against the dark blue of the night sky. Further away, on the right, -the familiar, luminous clock face of Big Ben, which showed that it -was already nearing midnight, shone out, brightly, above the golden -brilliance of Whitehall. Westminster Abbey towers were touched with -fire. Queen Anne's Mansion was a broad, solid wedge of blazing, various -colour. Up and down the square tower of the Westminster Cathedral ran -a hand of flame, writing a loyal motto, in crabbed, monkish Latin, -difficult to translate. On the left, beyond the Green Park, shone the -lights of Piccadilly, where the fronts of the clubs vied in patriotic -radiance. From the Green Park itself, and from Hyde Park, in the -distance, soared rockets, which burst into clusters of red, white, -and blue stars, and showers of multi-coloured rain. The cheers of the -crowds, in the parks, and in the streets, rose with the rockets, in a -regular, muffled roar. Overhead, above the lights, above the rockets, a -score or more of illuminated aeroplanes hummed, diving, nose-spinning, -side-slipping, and looping the loop, with the agility, the grace, and -the breathless swiftness of the aerial acrobats who know not fear.</p> - -<p>"God Save the King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second."</p> - -<p>The mere repetition of the blazing words impressed them upon the King's -notice.</p> - -<p>Their irony was his second thought.</p> - -<p>Did the people know, the cheering people, far down below there, in the -crowded parks, and illuminated streets, that, stereotyped formulae as -they were, there was real need, now, for those prayers?</p> - -<p>And, if they did know, would they care?</p> - -<p>Save him from his enemies?</p> - -<p>Perhaps. Almost certainly.</p> - -<p>But from himself—an unwilling King?</p> - -<p>A light, night breeze from the west, blew softly across the palace -roof, rustling the silken folds of the Royal Standard, as it hung -limply against the fifty-foot flagstaff, immediately above the King's -head. With the quick, subconscious instinct of the trained sailor, he -looked up to see if the flag was in order. To be "a sailor, not a -Prince" had been, for years, his publicly avowed ambition, an ambition -which had only recently been thwarted. His interest in this, no doubt, -trivial matter of a flag was typical of the lasting impression which -his long and happy years of naval service had left upon his character. -In most things, small and great, the Navy had taught him, the Navy had -formed him.</p> - -<p>The flag was correct. The very knots in the rope left no loophole for -criticism.</p> - -<p>The small, gilt Royal Crown, which normally surmounted the -flagstaff had been removed. In its place a large crown of coloured, -electric lamps had been erected, as a finishing touch to the palace -illuminations. Above the lights of this crown, the pointed shaft of the -lightning conductor, which ran up the flagstaff, protruded, clearly -visible against the night sky.</p> - -<p>The lightning conductor had been left in position.</p> - -<p>A slow smile lit up the King's face, and something of his weariness -fell from him, as he saw the pointed shaft of the lightning conductor.</p> - -<p>Here, at last, was reality, presented, paradoxically enough, in the -form of an allegory, a symbol.</p> - - - -<p>The words of the old Duke of Northborough came back to the King.</p> - -<p>At the close of one of the earliest of the many, long, informal talks, -in the course of which the old Duke had set himself to explain to the -young and inexperienced Prince, who had been called, so unexpectedly, -to the throne, a few of the more urgent problems of Government, the -King had brought the veteran Prime Minister up on to the palace roof, -to see the new roof garden, which was the only innovation he had made, -so far, in the palace arrangements, an innovation due to his pleasant -recollection of nights of shore leave spent in the roof gardens of New -York, during his service with the Atlantic Fleet. The old Duke had -admired the flowers, and approved the tubbed trees; then he had looked -up at the flagstaff, where the Royal Standard had been flying in a -noble breeze; the juxtaposition of the pointed shaft of the lightning -conductor, and the Royal Crown, at the top of the flagstaff, had caught -his eye; and he had called the King's attention to it, at once, with an -arresting gesture.</p> - -<p>"It is an allegory, a symbol, sir," he had said, in his vivid, forceful -way. "You wear the Crown. I am the lightning conductor. It will be my -duty, and the honour of my life, when the storm breaks, to take the -full shock of the lightning flash, so that the Crown may remain on your -head, unshaken."</p> - -<p>There had been no need for the King to ask of what impending storm -the old Duke spoke. From the first, in all his talk, the increasing -menace of the world-wide revolutionary conspiracy had been the veteran -statesman's most constant theme.</p> - -<p>"In your grandfather's time revolution in England was impossible, sir. -In your father's time it was possible, but unthinkable. If your brother -had lived, it might have remained unthinkable for years, perhaps for -the whole of his reign." "Like your father, your brother had the secret -of arousing personal loyalty. The Prince smiled, and men and women -loved him. For years he had been preparing himself, and consolidating -his hold on the people, making ready for the struggle which he saw he -must come." "It is not for me to disguise from you, sir, that your -brother's death has given a new impetus to the revolutionary movement -in this country. A younger son, a Prince who never expected, who -was never expected, to reign—against you, sir, the international -revolutionary forces feel that they have their first real chance in -England. The Internationalists, and the Communists, on the Continent, -and the extremists amongst our own Labour leaders, are likely to effect -a working agreement. It is necessary that we should remember, that it -has been by such agreements, that Europe has been swept almost clear of -Kings, from end to end." "We must be prepared. We are prepared. But it -is of vital importance that you, sir, should understand the position. -Make no mistake, sir. They would haul down your Royal Standard, from -the flagstaff here, sir, and run up their pitiable rag of a Red Flag, -in its place."</p> - -<p>A new understanding of the difficulties that his father had faced, -of the heavy burden that he had borne, for so many years, without -complaint, had come to the King, in recent weeks. More poignant -still was the new understanding of, and the new sympathy with, his -dead brother, the Prince, that the last few weeks had brought him. -His father had always been remote. Between him, and his brother, the -Prince, there had been real friendship, and familiar, easy intercourse, -in spite of the Prince's splendid future, in spite of his own frequent -absences at sea. But he had not known. He had not understood. With a -sailor's contemptuous impatience in such matters, he had always turned -an almost deaf ear to the Prince's talk of politics and parties. The -Prince's splendid future! And he stood now, in the Prince's place.</p> - -<p>It was the Prince who had urged him to trust, and to listen to, the old -Duke.</p> - -<p>Once again, the King stood by the bed, in his brother's room, late in -the afternoon of the day, when the disease, which had stricken the -Prince so inexplicably, within a few weeks of their father's death, had -done its worst, and it was known that he, too, must die, die, after -all, uncrowned.</p> - -<p>Deathly white the Prince lay there, propped up in bed, with his eyes -closed.</p> - -<p>Outside the sun was setting, and the London sparrows were twittering -their vesper hymn.</p> - -<p>The blue uniformed nurse bent down over the bed, and spoke in the -Prince's ear.</p> - -<p>The Prince opened his eyes, saw him, recognized him, and smiled.</p> - -<p>"They tell me that I have got 'the route' Alfred," he whispered -painfully. "I am not afraid to die. But I would live if I could. I -know, no one knows as I know, what this will mean to you. They tell me -I mustn't talk. I can't talk.</p> - -<p>"The Duke is your man. Trust the Duke! He will not fail you. He will -be your sheet anchor. With the Duke to steady the ship, you will ride -out the storm."</p> - -<p>An hour later, the Prince lay dead.</p> - -<p>The King flung up his head.</p> - -<p>The Duke had not failed him.</p> - -<p>Many men had mourned the Prince's death, but no man had mourned it, as -had the veteran Prime Minister. Between the Duke and the Prince, it -was notorious, there had been a friendship, a constant association, -personal and political, closer than that between many a father and son. -Politically, the Prince's death must have been a staggering blow to -the Duke. And yet the wonderful old man had never faltered. Early and -late, he had laboured, with inexhaustible patience, at times with a -surprising freedom, and yet always with a tact which made his freedom -possible, to place his unrivalled knowledge, and his ripe wisdom, -untouched by party spirit, at the service of a new, a young, and an -inexperienced King.</p> - -<p>The King was not ungrateful.</p> - -<p>Still leaning wearily as he was against the roof balustrade, he turned -now, as he thought of the old Duke, and looked across the shadowed -darkness of St. James's Park, at the golden glare thrown up by the -illuminations in Whitehall. There, in the silent, rather comfortless, -and closed in house, in Downing Street, where he had lived, with hardly -a break, for so many years, his father's minister, his brother's -friend, the old Duke, even now, as likely as not, was hard at work, -indomitable, tireless, resourceful, sparing neither himself, nor his -subordinates, so that he, the King, "a sailor, not a Prince," might -reign.</p> - -<p>Yes. The lightning conductor was in position.</p> - -<p>He, the man who wore the Crown, must not fail.</p> - -<p>He must not fail the Duke.</p> - -<p>It was odd, but the thought that he might fail to support the Duke, -that he might not come up to the standard which the Duke might set for -him, had more weight with him, than any thought of the people, of the -nation. It was an instance of the Duke's personal magnetism, of course. -His personal magnetism, his dominance, had been talked about for years. -Did the Duke dominate him? No. But the Duke was a living, forceful -personality, a man, a strong man. The people, the nation—well, they -were only phantoms; they were the thousand, flushed, curious faces; -the thousand eyes; the cheering crowds, far away down there, in the -darkness, in the crowded parks and illuminated streets below.</p> - -<p>It was, in a sense, a triumph, or at least, a notable success, for -the Duke, that he, the King, had been crowned; that the day had -passed without hostile demonstrations, without a single regrettable -incident. What reward could he give, what return could he make, to the -old statesman, for his ungrudging, tireless service? The Duke was his -servant. In intimate, familiar talk, he never failed to call him "sir." -The Duke must be his friend. His friend? A King could have no friends. -A man apart, isolated, lonely, and remote, as his father had always -been, a King was condemned to live alone.</p> - -<p>A sudden, unbearable sense of loneliness, a terror of himself, a terror -of this new, isolated, remote life, in which he was to be denied even -the poor palliative of friendship, swept over the King. He had longed -to be alone. He had come up, out here, on to the palace roof, to be -alone. He had been eager to escape from the curious faces, from the -thousand eyes. But now he longed for human companionship, for human -sympathy, for human hands.</p> - -<p>"Judith!"</p> - - - -<p>The name rose to the King's lips, unsought, unbidden.</p> - -<p>Judith, tall and slender, with her deep, dark, mysterious eyes, and -her crown of jet black hair; Judith, with her cheeks flushed with -pleasure, her eyes aglow, and her hand stretched out to him in joyous -welcome—the King saw, and felt, her bodily presence, as in a vision, -and his loneliness, and his terror, his weariness, and his fever, fell -from him.</p> - -<p>He must go to Judith.</p> - -<p>It would be dangerous. It was always dangerous. It would be more -dangerous, tonight, than ever before. But he would go. He must go. All -day he had smiled, and bowed, and posed, for the multitude, playing his -part in the gorgeous, public pageantry, which the multitude loved, an -actor playing his part, an actor, the servant of the public. Surely, -now, he might wrest a few brief hours, from the night, for himself?</p> - -<p>It was a long time, a week or more, since he had seen Judith.</p> - -<p>A few brief hours with Judith, a few brief hours of rest, of rural -peace, and quiet talk; a romp with the Imps, who would be fast asleep -now, tucked up in their cots, each clutching some cherished toy, some -strange, woolly animal, or some dearly prized, deadly instrument of -mimic war, but who would awake, with their prattle, like the birds, at -dawn; a few minutes of Uncle Bond's diverting nonsense, about the next -instalment of his forthcoming serial, and the dire distresses he had -invented for his latest business girl heroine—a few brief hours, so -spent, would bring him back to the palace, refreshed and strengthened, -ready to shoulder, once again, the heavy burden of his isolation, the -heavy burden which seemed now too heavy to be borne.</p> - -<p>Yes. Late as it was, he would go to Judith. A night visit? It would be -after one o'clock in the morning, when he arrived. Would Judith mind? -Surely not! Judith and he were outside conventions.</p> - -<p>With the quick, impulsive movement of the man who puts an end to -hesitation, the King swung round from the stone balustrade, crossed the -roof, and so passed, without another glance at the blazing Coronation -illuminations, or at the night sky, down the broad, wrought-iron -staircase which led from the roof into the palace.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER II</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">n</span> the anteroom to his own newly decorated suite of rooms, the King -found two of his valets still on duty. One of them was Smith, the -rubicund, grizzled old sailor, who had been his servant in the Navy. -Dismissing the other man with a gesture, the King beckoned to Smith, -and entered his dressing room.</p> - -<p>"I do not want to be disturbed, in the morning, until I ring my bell, -Smith," he announced. "I shall probably go out into the garden for a -breath of fresh air, last thing. See that the door into the garden is -left open. That is all now. Good-night."</p> - -<p>Smith withdrew, at once, with the bob of his bullet-shaped head, which -was the nearest approach he could make to the bow required by etiquette.</p> - -<p>Left alone, the King glanced round the dressing room.</p> - -<p>Of all the rooms in the palace which he used habitually, this room had -become the most distasteful to the King. The massive, old-fashioned, -mahogany furniture, the heavy curtains drawn right across the windows, -the thick-piled carpet, and the softly shaded lights, in the room, -oppressed him, not so much because of what they were in themselves, as -because of what they were associated with, already, in his own mind. -It was here that he dressed for Court functions. It was here that -he dressed, three or four times a day, not for his own pleasure and -convenience, but "suitably for the occasion."</p> - -<p>A masculine doll. A male mannequin. A popinjay.</p> - -<p>But he was going to dress to please himself, now, anyway.</p> - -<p>Moving swiftly about the room, he proceeded to ransack drawers, and to -fling open wardrobe doors, as he searched for a particular blue serge -suit, of which the Royal staff of valets strongly disapproved.</p> - -<p>At last he found the suit he sought.</p> - -<p>A few minutes later, he had effected, unaided, a complete change of -toilet.</p> - -<p>The blue serge suit, instinct with the Navy style that was so much -to his mind, together with the grey felt hat, and the light dust -coat, which he selected, made an odd, and subtle, difference in his -appearance. Before, even in the easy undress of his smoking jacket, he -had been—the King. Now he was, in every detail, merely a young naval -officer in mufti, rejoicing in shore leave.</p> - -<p>Looking at himself in the huge, full-length mirror which stood -immediately in front of the heavily curtained windows, the King -approved this result.</p> - -<p>The young naval officer in mufti, who looked back at the King out -of the cunningly lighted mirror, tall, fair, and clean-shaven, had -retained much of the unconscious pride of youth. The face was, as yet, -only lightly marked by the lines, the thoughtful frown, and the dark -shadows, which are the insignia of a heavier burden, of a greater -responsibility, and of a more constant anxiety, and care, than any -known at sea. The mouth and chin were pronounced and firm, moulded by -the habit of command. The lips were a trifle full, and not untouched -by passion. A student of that facial character, which all men, princes -and peasants alike, must carry about with them, wherever they go, would -have said that this young man had a will of his own, which might be -expressed by rash and impetuous action. The brow was broad and high. -This was a young man capable of thought, and of emotion. Something of -the healthy tan, which long exposure to wind and weather leaves, still -lingered on the cheeks, but a slight puffiness under the tired blue -eyes, told of weariness, and of flagging physical condition.</p> - -<p>"A breath of Judith's country air will certainly do me good. It will -freshen me up," the King muttered.</p> - -<p>Swinging round from the mirror, he crossed the room, to the door, and -switched off all the lights. Then he opened the door. The long corridor -outside, which led from his suite of rooms to the central landing, -and so to the main staircase in the palace, was still brilliantly -lit. Closing the dressing room door behind him, the King slipped -quickly down the corridor. Avoiding the central landing, and the main -staircase, which lay to his right, he turned to the left, up a short -passage, which brought him to the head of a private staircase, which -was strictly reserved for his personal use. This staircase led down to -the ground floor of the palace, and ended in a small, palm and orange -tree decorated lounge, half vestibule, and half conservatory, which had -been a favourite retreat of his father. A glass door opened out of the -lounge into the palace garden. This door, as he had directed, had been -left open. Quickly descending the staircase, the King passed through -the lounge, out by the open door, into the garden.</p> - -<p>A sharp glance, first to the right, and then to the left, assured -him that he was unobserved. By his order, the posts of the military -guard, and the beats of the police, on duty round the palace, had been -altered recently, so that he could use this door untrammelled by their -compliments. An unmistakable impatience with even necessary observation -of his personal movements had already become known as one of the new -King's most pronounced characteristics, and the military, and the -police authorities, alike, had done their best to meet his wishes in -the matter, although his wishes had added greatly to their difficulties.</p> - -<p>The palace garden was full of the fragrance of the wonderful summer -night. The west breeze blew softly along the paths, and rustled amongst -the innumerable leaves of the overhanging trees. A few minutes of brisk -walking led the King through the darkness of the shrubberies, across -the deserted lawns, and past the shining, light-reflecting water of the -lake, to the boundary wall at the far end of the garden.</p> - - - -<p>A small, old, and formerly little used wooden door in this wall was his -objective.</p> - -<p>Lately, by his order, this door had been repainted, and fitted with -a new lock. One or two members of the palace household staff were -housed in Lower Grosvenor Place, the thoroughfare on to which the -wall abutted. It was, ostensibly, in order that these trustworthy and -discreet members of the household staff might be able to pass in and -out of the door, unchallenged, and so use the short cut through the -garden to the palace, that the King had considerately directed that -the lock on the door should be renewed, and that new keys should be -distributed.</p> - -<p>It was one of these new keys which he now produced from his own pocket, -and, after a hurried glance behind him to assure himself that he was -still unobserved, fitted into the lock.</p> - -<p>The lock worked smoothly.</p> - -<p>The door opened inwards.</p> - -<p>The King stepped out on to the pavement of Lower Grosvenor Place.</p> - -<p>The door, operated by a spring, closed silently behind him.</p> - -<p>Lower Grosvenor Place, normally a quiet and deserted thoroughfare -was, tonight, for once, thronged with people. A cheering, singing -rollicking crowd, the backwash of the larger crowds, which had been -attracted to the palace, and to the display of fireworks in the parks, -had taken possession of the roadway. For a moment, the noise of the -crowd, and the lights of the street, coming so abruptly after the -silence, and the secluded darkness of the garden, disconcerted the -King. Next moment, smiling a little at the thought of his own bizarre -position, he darted into the crowd, and began to work his way across -the road.</p> - -<p>Inevitably jostled, and pushed, by the crowd, he made slow progress.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, his progress was arrested altogether.</p> - -<p>A little company of West End revellers, half a dozen youthful dandies -from the clubs, and as many daringly dressed women, who were moving -down the centre of the road, with their arms linked, singing at the top -of their voices, deliberately intercepted him, and circling swiftly -round him, held him prisoner.</p> - -<p>"Where are your colours, old man?" one of the women demanded, in -an affected, provocative drawl. She was young, and, in spite of -her artificial complexion, and dyed eyebrows, she still retained a -suggestion of prettiness, and even of freshness. "Here! This is what -you want!"</p> - -<p>As she spoke, she caught hold of the lapel of the King's coat, and -pinned to it a large rosette of red, white, and blue ribbons.</p> - -<p>"There! That looks better," she declared. "You don't want people -to think you're one of these Communist cads, and in favour of a -revolution, do you?"</p> - -<p>The King laughed merrily.</p> - -<p>That he, the King, should be suspected of being in favour of revolution -struck him as irresistibly absurd. Then the second thought which is -so often nearer to the truth than the first, supervened. After all, -was the idea so absurd? Was he not—an unwilling King? Had he not been -increasingly conscious, of late, of a thought lurking at the back of -his mind, that he, of all men, had, perhaps, least to lose, and most -to gain, in the welter and chaos of revolution? What would he lose? -The intolerable burden of his isolation: the responsibility, and the -exacting demands of the great position, into which he had been thrust -so unexpectedly, and so much against his will. What would he gain? -Liberty, Equality, Fraternity! The revolutionary slogan voiced his own -personal needs. His laughter died away.</p> - -<p>Happily, a precocious, fair-haired youth, who was leaning on the -shoulder of the rosette-distributing girl, broke the awkward little -silence which ensued.</p> - -<p>"Chuck it, Doris! Can't you see he's one of us?" he remarked. "He's got -Navy written all over him."</p> - -<p>And he nodded to the King, as to a brother officer.</p> - -<p>"Mind your own business, Bobbie, and I'll mind mine," Doris drawled, -unperturbed. "He's a nice boy, but he'd forgotten his rosette. No man, -who isn't wearing the right colours, is going to pass me by, tonight, -unchallenged."</p> - -<p>The King pulled himself together with an effort.</p> - -<p>"But now that I am wearing the right colours, you will let me pass?" he -suggested. "I am in rather a hurry."</p> - -<p>Bobbie promptly dragged the laughing and protesting Doris to one side, -and so left the road clear for the King.</p> - -<p>"Pass, friend!" Bobbie announced. "All's well!"</p> - -<p>The King dived hastily, once again, into the crowd. A sudden, and -curiously belated, fear of recognition, here in the immediate vicinity -of the palace, lent wings to his feet. No doubt the reckless audacity -of his excursion almost precluded the possibility of recognition. And -yet thousands of these people had seen him, at close quarters, only a -few hours ago.</p> - -<p>So they knew about the impending storm, and they were already taking -sides. He looked at the rollicking crowd which surged about him, now, -with new interest. Red, white, and blue rosettes, similar to the one -which was pinned to his own coat, were being worn everywhere. The right -colours appeared to be popular. In the elaborate, secret, protective -schemes, lettered for code purposes, in the Greek alphabet, from Alpha -to Gamma, which the old Duke of Northborough had laid before him, to -demonstrate the Cabinet's readiness for every eventuality, the loyalty -of the people had no place. Might not that loyalty render the old -Duke's schemes unnecessary? But the old Duke wanted, he seemed almost -anxious, to force a fight. And the old Duke was, of course, right.</p> - -<p>By this time, the King had succeeded in working his way across the -road. He turned now, mechanically to his left, down a quiet, side -street, which ended in a cul-de-sac, but afforded, on the right, an -entrance to one of those odd, shut in havens of coach-houses and -stables, which are to be found all over the West End of London, tucked -away behind the great houses, from which they usually take their -directory title, with the addition of that admirably significant word, -mews. Here, in a small, lock-up garage, which he had contrived to rent -in the name of a youthful member of his personal, secretarial staff, -the King kept a two-seated, powerfully engined, motor car. Geoffrey -Blunt, the nominal tenant of the garage, a light-hearted but discreet, -cadet of a good house, had also lent his name for the purchase of the -car. In recognition of Blunt's complaisance in the matter, the King had -allowed him to accompany him in one or two harmless Caliph Haroun Al -Raschid night interludes, in which the car had figured; but Blunt, as -Vizier, had no idea that the King, his Caliph, used the car, as now, -for solitary excursions.</p> - -<p>The police constable on the beat happened to be testing, with -his bull's-eye lantern in action, the fastenings of the adjacent -coach-houses and stables, in the dimly lit mews, when the King arrived -at the garage. Recognizing in the King, as he thought, a resident in -one of the neighbouring houses, the constable saluted him respectfully, -and helped him to open the garage doors, and run out the car.</p> - -<p>"You'll find the traffic difficult tonight, sir, I'm thinking," he -remarked, with a hint of a London tamed Irish brogue. "They turned -the people out of the parks, when the fireworks finished, a full half -hour ago, but, bless you, they are in no hurry to go home. Well, it's -one night in a lifetime, as you might say, isn't it, sir? And, beyond -holding up the traffic, there's no harm in the people—they're just -lively, that's all. There'll be a good many of them will lie in late, -when they do get to bed, in the morning, I'm thinking. But the tiredest -man, in all London, this night, and in the whole Empire, too, if it -comes to that, I should think must be the King himself, God bless -him! Did you get a good view of him, yourself, sir? I was in duty in -Whitehall for the procession, and barring a yard or two, I was as close -to him then, as I am, now, to you. As fine, and upstanding a young -fellow, as you could wish to see, he is, too, and as like his poor dead -brother, the Prince, God rest his soul! as two peas. But he looked -tired, I thought. I hope they won't work him too hard, at first. He's -only a young man still, and he's got his troubles before him, they say, -although to look at the people, tonight, you wouldn't think so, would -you? But give him his chance, and he'll do as well as his brother, -the Prince, I say, for all that he's a sailor. I'm an old Guardsman, -myself, sir, the same as the Prince was, but, after all, it's time you -had your turn, in the Senior Service, isn't it, sir?"</p> - -<p>Busy putting on the thick leather motor coat, and adjusting the -goggles, which he kept stored in the car, the King listened to the -constable's garrulous, friendly talk with rich amusement, not untouched -by a more serious interest. He almost wished that he could reveal -his real identity to the man, and then shake hands with him. Surely -the loyalty of the people had been underestimated? This garrulous -police constable had a juster appreciation, and a more sympathetic -understanding, of the difficulties and the dangers of his position, -than he had ever imagined possible.</p> - -<p>With the constable's assistance the King closed, and re-locked the -garage doors. Then he slipped a handful of loose silver into the man's -not too ready palm, and sprang up into his seat at the steering wheel -of the car.</p> - -<p>"Liquidate that in drinking to the King's health, constable," he -directed, as he started the car. "Drink it to the frustration of all -the King's enemies."</p> - -<p>All the King's enemies? His worst enemy? Himself?</p> - -<p>The man's reply was drowned by the throbbing beat of the powerful -engine.</p> - -<p>A moment later, the car leapt forward, out of the dimly lit mews, -swung up the quiet side street, beyond, and so passed into the densely -thronged roadway in Lower Grosvenor Place.</p> - -<p>The police constable's prediction as to the difficulties of the traffic -proved more than justified. In Grosvenor Place, the King found that he -could only advance at a snail's pace, sounding his siren continuously. -Over and over again, he had hurriedly to apply all his brakes. The -crowd, singing, cheering, and rollicking, had taken complete possession -of the roadway, and ignored the approach of all vehicles of whatsoever -kind. Fellow motorists, in like case with himself, grinned at the -King, in friendly, mutual commiseration. For his part, it was with -difficulty, that he restrained his impatience, and kept his temper. He -was still far too close to the palace for his peace of mind.</p> - -<p>At Hyde Park Corner, the police, mounted and on foot, had contrived -to maintain a narrow fairway, which made real, although still slow, -progress through the locked traffic possible. But in Park Lane, the -crowd had it all their own way again, spread out across the road, and -indulging in rough horse-play, as nearly out of hand as the London -crowd ever permits itself to go. Happily, by the Marble Arch, the -road cleared once more. In Oxford Street, in spite of the brilliant -illuminations of the famous shops and stores, and the huge crowds -which they had attracted there, the King found that he could slightly -increase his speed. When he swung, at last, into Tottenham Court Road, -and so headed the car directly north, the traffic, by comparison with -that through which he had just passed, seemed almost normal. Free now -from the necessity of extra vigilance, and only occasionally called -upon to sound his siren, or to apply his brakes, he was able to open -out the car considerably, and settle himself more comfortably at the -steering wheel.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER III</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">t</span> was a wonderful summer night. Here, as the car ran out into the -quieter, less crowded, and more humbly illuminated area of the inner -suburbs, the night reasserted itself. Rising late, above the roofs and -twisted chimney pots, a large, round, golden moon hung low in the dark -blue sky. The rush of air, stirred by the throbbing car, was cool and -fresh. Naturally, and inevitably, the King's thoughts turned now, once -again, to Judith.</p> - -<p>It was on just such a wonderful summer night, as this, in early June, a -year ago, that he had first seen Judith.</p> - -<p>On that memorable night, the King had driven alone, out of London, -late at night, just as he was driving now, at the end of a fortnight's -leave, which he had spent incognito, in town. Soon after he had run -through the fringe of the outer suburbs, which he was even then -entering, with four hundred odd miles of road between him and the Naval -Base in Scotland, where he was due to rejoin his ship, and with barely -time to make them good, the car he was driving had developed engine -trouble. A few minutes of frenzied tinkering had set the car going -again, but the engine had only served to carry him well clear of the -town, out into the sleeping countryside, when it had failed, once more, -this time completely, and he had found himself stranded, at the side of -the lonely, deserted, country road, the victim of a permanent breakdown.</p> - -<p>The King smiled to himself, now, as he recalled his reckless, humorous -appreciation of that situation. In those days, "a sailor, not a -Prince," he had had a light heart. Nothing had been able to disturb his -equanimity for long.</p> - -<p>Abandoning the broken down car, almost at once, at the side of the -road, he had set out, adventurously, on foot, to look for succour. -The night had been, then, as now, cool, fragrant, and moonlit. -Soon a narrow, winding, wooded lane, on the left of the road, had -attracted him. Turning down this lane, he had followed its twisting, -tree-shadowed course, for over a mile or more, until, suddenly, he -had come upon the small lodge, and open carriage gate, of an isolated -country house, which stood, a little back from the road, surrounded by -tall trees.</p> - -<p>The short, moonlit drive, where the rhododendron bushes and the -laburnum trees were in full blossom, had led him to the front of the -silent, darkened house.</p> - -<p>The King remembered vividly the odd sense of impending romance, the -little thrill of excitement, and of expectancy, with which he had rung -the front door bell.</p> - -<p>A short pause had ensued, a period of waiting.</p> - -<p>And then he had heard a movement on his right, and he had turned, and -he had seen Judith—seen Judith, for the first time.</p> - -<p>She had slipped through the open window door, on his right, on to the -verandah, which ran all round the shadowy house, and she had stood -there, close beside him, tall and slender, surrounded by the ghostly -white blossoms of the clematis creeper, which covered the verandah -pillars and rail—Judith with her cheeks delicately flushed, her deep, -dark, mysterious eyes aglow, and her wealth of jet black hair knotted -loosely at her neck, Judith clad in a Japanese kimono of gorgeous -colours, from under which peeped little wisps of spotless white linen, -and filmy lace.</p> - - - -<p>The King laughed softly to himself, as he recalled that it was he, -and not Judith, who had been shy and embarrassed, that it was he, and -not Judith, who had blushed and stammered—until Judith had come to -his rescue, understanding and accepting his incoherent apologies and -explanations, almost before he had uttered them, and taking absolute -command of him, and of the whole delightfully bizarre situation from -that moment—</p> - -<p>The necessity of avoiding a couple of belated country carts, moving -slowly forward towards Covent Garden, at this point, broke abruptly -into the King's reverie. The powerfully engined car was running -smoothly, and at a high speed now, along the level surface of one of -the outer suburban tramway tracks—</p> - -<p>It was Judith who had promptly roused old Jevons, the gardener, and -sent him off, post haste, to take charge of the derelict car. It was -Judith who, greatly daring, had penetrated into the jealously guarded, -literary night seclusion of Uncle Bond, on the upper floor of the -silent, darkened house, and had compelled the little man to leave his -latest business girl heroine, in the middle of the next instalment -of his new serial, although that instalment was, as usual, already -overdue, and come downstairs, urbane and chuckling, his round, -double-chinned, and spectacled face wreathed in smiles, to entertain an -unknown, and youthful stranger, as if his midnight intrusion was the -most natural thing in the world.</p> - -<p>It was Judith, familiar with the way that they have in the Navy, who -had understood, from the first, the vital necessity of his rejoining -his ship in time. It was Judith who had routed out time-tables, and -looked up trains, while he and Uncle Bond had smoked and discussed the -situation at large, and had discovered that he still might be able to -catch the Scottish Mail, at some railway junction in the Midlands, of -which he had never heard.</p> - -<p>It was Judith who had packed off the at once enthusiastic Uncle Bond -to the garage to turn out his own brand new Daimler. It was Judith who -had insisted that they must make a hurried, and informal, but wholly -delightful picnic meal. It was Judith who had slipped out, while Uncle -Bond and he ate and drank, and put his kit, which the careful Jevons -had brought from the broken down car to the house for safe custody, -into the Daimler. Finally, it was Judith who had given them their -marching orders, and their route, and had stood on the verandah, and -waved her hand to them, in friendly farewell, when Uncle Bond had -started the Daimler, and the huge car had swept down the drive, out -into the sleeping countryside.</p> - -<p>Of the wild drive that had followed, half way across England, through -the wonderful summer night, the King had now, as he had had at the -time, only a hazy, confused impression—a hazy, confused impression -of Uncle Bond, at his side, crouched over the steering wheel of the -huge Daimler, driving with a reckless audacity more suited to the -commander of a destroyer, or of a submarine, than to a mere retailer -of grotesquely improbable tales, of Uncle Bond talking incessantly as -he drove, and chuckling delightedly, as he gave a free rein to the -fantastic flights of his characteristically extravagant humour.</p> - -<p>Where, and when, he had caught the night mail, the King had still no -clear idea. A blurred vision of Uncle Bond, racing at his side, down a -long, dimly lit railway platform, and throwing his last portmanteau in, -after him, through the window of the already moving train, was all that -remained with him, of the scene at the station.</p> - -<p>And then the train had thundered on, through the sleeping countryside, -and he had been alone, at last, in the darkness, in the darkness in -which, for hours, he had seen only Judith's beautiful, vivid face, -while the train had thundered in his ears, only Judith's name—</p> - -<p>By this time, the powerfully engined car had run clear of the outer -suburban tramway track, and was rushing through the semi-rural area -of market gardens, and scattered villas, where the town first meets, -and mingles with, the country, on the north side of London. Coronation -illuminations had now been left far behind. Soon even the last of the -long chain of lamps provided by the public lighting system was passed. -It was by the light thrown on to the road, by the glaring headlights on -the throbbing car, and by the softer light of the moon, that the King -had now to do his driving—</p> - -<p>From the first he had known that Judith, and Uncle Bond, could never -be as other people to him. It was this knowledge which had warned him -not to betray his real identity. From the first, it had seemed of -vital importance to him, that no shadow of his Royal rank should be -allowed to mar the delightful spontaneity of his intercourse with these -charming, unconventional people, who, looking upon him as merely a -young, naval officer in trouble, had at once placed all their resources -at his disposal, as if he had been an old and intimate friend. It was -this knowledge which had prompted him, when he came to telegraph to -Uncle Bond, to report his successful rejoining of his ship, to sign the -telegram with his favourite incognito name, Alfred York. That he should -have been in a position to telegraph to Uncle Bond was only one of the -many lesser miracles of that wholly miraculous night. At some point -in their wild drive, Uncle Bond had slipped his visiting card into -his hand, and had contrived to make him understand, in spite of his -dreamlike abstraction, that, while he was known to his admiring public -as "Cynthia St. Claire," the notorious serial writer, he was known to -his friends as plain James Bond, and that he, and his niece Judith, -would be glad to hear that he had escaped a court-martial.</p> - -<p>Looking back at it all, now, with the wonder that never failed him -when he thought of Judith, it seemed to the King that the miracles -of that first memorable night, twelve months ago, had merely been -the prelude to a whole sequence of other, and far greater, miracles. -When leave came his way once again, it had seemed only natural to him -that he should run out to see Judith and Uncle Bond, to thank them -for their kindness which had included the salving, and the temporary -storing of the derelict car. But that Judith and Uncle Bond should have -welcomed him so warmly, and pressed him to repeat his visit, whenever -he happened to be passing through town, that had been—a miracle! -Again, it was only natural that he should have taken advantage of their -invitation, and that he should have fallen into the habit of running -out to see them, whenever he could snatch a few brief hours from the -exacting demands of his semi-official life. But that Judith, and Uncle -Bond, should have thrown open their house to him, so soon, without -question, and made their home, his home, that had been—a miracle! -That he should have been able to keep his frequent visits to, and his -increasing intimacy with, Judith and Uncle Bond a secret, for nearly -twelve months, was a miracle. That in all that time, Judith and Uncle -Bond should never have suspected his real identity, never penetrated -his incognito, was a greater miracle. But that his friendship with -Judith should have remained unspoilt, innocent, that was the greatest -miracle of all.</p> - -<p>It was Judith who had wrought this last, greatest miracle of all. It -was Judith who had made their friendship what it was. Somehow, from -the first, she seemed to have been able to shut out, or, at the worst, -to ward off, from their intimacy, all dangerous provocations. It was -as if she had drawn a white line round herself, even in her thoughts, -past which neither he, nor she, could enter. Uncle Bond, most wise and -tactful of hosts, had helped. And the Imps, Judith's boys, had helped -too.</p> - -<p>Somehow, Judith and the Imps, Button, so called because of his button -mouth, and Bill, cherubic and chubby, had always been inseparably -associated in his mind. Almost from the first, he must have known that -Judith, young as she was, was a widow. But it was only lately that he -had learnt that her husband had been a sailor like himself, a sailor -who had served with distinction, and lost his life, in the Pacific War, -the war which he had missed himself, to his own everlasting regret, by -a few bare weeks of juniority—</p> - -<p>By this time, the throbbing car was sweeping down the opening stretch -of the Great North Road, out into the real country. More as a matter -of custom, than of conscious thought, the King slowed down the car. It -had become his habit on these occasions, that he should slacken his -speed, when he had at last successfully escaped from the town, so that -he could attune his mind to his surroundings, and savour to the full -his eager anticipation of Judith's joyous welcome.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, the ghostly, white painted figure of a signpost, for which he -always kept an eye open, flashed into his view, on the left of the road.</p> - -<p>Once, on a winter evening of fog-thickened darkness, when he had been -driving out to see Judith, as he was driving now, the King had grown -uncertain of his route. Coming to this signpost, he had been glad to -halt, to verify his position. Clambering up the post, with the ready -agility of the sailor, he had struck a match, to discover that the -signpost had been used, by some unknown humorist, to perpetrate a jest, -with which he had found himself in instant, serious, and wholehearted -sympathy. The ordinary place names had been obliterated on the signpost -fingers. In lieu of them had been painted, in rude, black letters, on -the finger pointing to London, "To Hades," and, on the opposite finger, -pointing north, out into the open country, "To Paradise."</p> - -<p>The King headed the car now "To Paradise," with an uplifting of the -heart, which never failed him, on this portion of the road.</p> - -<p>A little later, he became aware that he was passing the site of his -former breakdown, the breakdown which had first led him, a year ago, to -Judith.</p> - -<p>He knew then that he had run out of Middlesex into Hertfordshire.</p> - -<p>Soon the familiar turning of the narrow, tree shadowed lane, on the -left of the road, came into view. Swinging the car into the lane, the -King, once again, slackened his speed. He drove now with special care. -It had become part of a charming game, that he and Judith played, that -he should try to drive down the lane, and up to the house, without her -hearing his approach. Somehow, he hardly ever won. Somehow, Judith was -always on the alert, always expecting him.</p> - -<p>But tonight, it almost seemed, in view of the unusual lateness of his -arrival, as if he might score one of his rare successes. The car ran -smoothly, and all but silently, down the narrow lane. At the bottom, at -the house, the carriage gate, as usual, stood wide open. In the moonlit -drive, the rhododendron bushes and the laburnum trees were in full -blossom, just as they had been on that memorable first night, a year -ago. The King drove straight up the drive, and round the side of the -silent, darkened house, to the garage beyond. The garage door, like the -carriage gate, stood wide open. Here, in Paradise, apparently, there -was no need to guard against motor thieves.</p> - -<p>The King turned the car, and backed it into the garage, beside Uncle -Bond's huge Daimler. The silence which followed his shutting off of -the engine, was profound, the essential night silence of the country. -Flinging off his thick, leather motor coat, his hat, and his goggles, -he tossed them, one after the other, into the car. Then he left the -garage, and moved quickly back round the side of the house, treading, -whenever possible, on the grassy borders of the garden flower beds, -lest the sound of his footsteps should reach Judith, and so warn her of -his approach.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER IV</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">n</span> a bush, close up to the house, a nightingale was in full song. -Further away, from one of the trees beyond the shadowy garden lawn, -another nightingale replied. It was as if the two birds were singing -against each other for mastery, pouring out, in a wild, throbbing -ecstasy, the one after the other, twin cascades of lovely, liquid, -matchless notes.</p> - -<p>Judith was sitting on the moonlit verandah.</p> - -<p>The King laughed softly to himself, when he saw her.</p> - -<p>As usual, he had lost!</p> - -<p>She rose to her feet, to receive him, as he approached, and so stood, -tall and slender, just as she had stood on that first, memorable night, -a year ago, framed in the ghostly white blossoms of the clematis -creeper, which covered the verandah pillars and rail. She was wearing -an evening gown of some material in white satin which had a glossy -sheen that shone almost as brightly as the moonlight against the dark -background of the silent house. She was bareheaded, and the light, -night breeze had ruffled one or two tresses of her luxuriant jet black -hair. Her beautiful, vivid face was flushed. Her deep, dark, mysterious -eyes were aglow. Her lips were parted in a little smile of mingled -humour and triumph.</p> - -<p>"I <i>knew</i> that you would come tonight," she said.</p> - -<p>The King stepped up on to the verandah, to her side.</p> - -<p>"I had to come," he confessed.</p> - -<p>"It is a long time, a week, ten days, since you were here."</p> - -<p>"I am not my own master. I have been—very busy. They have given -me—promotion!"</p> - -<p>"The Service! Always the Service!" Judith cried.</p> - -<p>"It is the King's Service," the King replied.</p> - -<p>"I know! I would not have it otherwise, even if I could," Judith -murmured. "I am glad, and proud, that you have been very busy; that -they have given you—promotion; that you serve—the King! And, tonight, -you are wearing his colours?"</p> - -<p>As she spoke, she put out her hand, and deftly rearranged the long -ribbons of the red, white, and blue rosette, which the audacious Doris -had pinned to his coat, earlier in the night.</p> - -<p>"And, tonight, I am wearing his colours," the King replied. "When the -storm, that they say is coming, really breaks, the King will need all -his friends."</p> - -<p>With a quick, abrupt movement, which seemed to indicate a sudden change -of mood, Judith laid her hands on his shoulders, and turned him a -little to the right, so that the moonlight fell full upon his face.</p> - -<p>"Yes. You have changed. Your—promotion—has made a difference," she -murmured. "You speak gravely. You look older. You are more serious. And -there are little lines, and wrinkles, and a frown there, that was never -there before."</p> - -<p>The King drew in his breath sharply.</p> - -<p>The light pressure of Judith's hands on his shoulders, and the sudden -acute sense of her nearness which it brought him, disturbed him -strangely.</p> - -<p>This was a mistake. This was dangerous. And it was unlike Judith. It -was not Judith's way.</p> - -<p>All at once Judith seemed to divine his distress.</p> - -<p>She turned from him quickly.</p> - - - -<p>"Come and see the Imps," she said, "I was just going in, to look at -them, when you arrived."</p> - -<p>Light of foot, and slender, and tall, she moved off then, on tiptoe, -without waiting for him, along the shadowy verandah, towards the open -window-door of the night nursery near by.</p> - -<p>Conscious of a relief, of which he was somehow ashamed, the King -followed her, obediently, on tiptoe in turn.</p> - -<p>In the night nursery, the nightlight, which protected Button and Bill -from the evil machinations of ghosts and goblins, was burning dimly, -in its saucer, on the mantelpiece, but a shaft of bright moonlight -revealed the two cots, at the far end of the room, in which the -children lay, fast asleep, side by side. Judith was already bending -over the foot of the cots, when the King entered the room. She looked -round at him, finger on lip, as he approached. Button, flushed and -rosy, stirred in his sleep, and flung one small arm out of bed, across -the snow-white counterpane. Bill, cherubic and chubby, heroically lying -on, lest he should suck, his thumb, never moved.</p> - -<p>"They have had a wonderful day," Judith whispered. "We ran our flag -up, this morning, in honour of the King, and I tried to make them -understand about the Coronation. Bill wanted to know if Uncle Alfred -would be in the procession! They would do nothing else for the rest of -the day, but play at being King. You see, they took their crowns to bed -with them."</p> - -<p>She pointed to two crowns, crude, homemade, cardboard toys, covered -with gilt and silver paper, which lay, one on each pillow, beside the -sleeping children.</p> - -<p>A strange thrill, a chill of presentiment, a sense of some impending -crisis, which, it seemed, he was powerless to prevent, which he must -make no attempt to prevent, ran through the King. He shivered. Then -he leant over the cots, and, very carefully, lest he should wake him, -picked up the crown which lay on Button's pillow.</p> - -<p>The crude, grotesque, cardboard toy made a poignant appeal to him.</p> - -<p>Inevitably this toy cardboard crown reminded the King of that other -Crown, from which, even here in Paradise, it seemed, he could not -escape, that other Crown which had been placed on his head at the -climax of the long and exhausting Coronation ceremony, not many hours -back. That other Crown had been heavy. This was light. That other -Crown had been fashioned by cunning artists in metal, out of the -enduring materials judged most precious by man. This crown had been -laboriously patched together by the untried fingers of a child, out -of the flimsy, worthless materials furnished by a nursery cupboard. -And yet, of the two crowns, was the one more valuable, more worth -possessing, than the other? Both were symbols. That other Crown was the -symbol of a heavy burden, of a great responsibility. This toy crown -was the symbol of a child's fertile imagination, and happy play. Both -were pageantry. The one was the pageantry of a lifetime's isolation, -and labour. The other was the pageantry of a child's happy play, for a -single summer day.</p> - -<p>The irony of the contrast, the irony of his own position, gripped the -King, with a thrill of something akin to physical pain.</p> - -<p>With the absurd, toy cardboard crown still in his hand, he turned, and -looked at Judith.</p> - -<p>A dimly realized, instinctive rather than conscious, desire for -sympathy prompted his look.</p> - -<p>And Judith failed him.</p> - -<p>It was not what she did. It was not what she said. She did nothing. She -said nothing. And yet, in one of those strange flashes of intuition, -which come, at times, to the least sensitive of men, the King was aware -that Judith was not herself; that the accord which had hitherto always -existed between them was broken; and that he and she had suddenly -become—antagonistic.</p> - -<p>Judith stood with her hands resting lightly on the brass rail at the -foot of Button's cot. Outwardly her attitude was wholly passive. None -the less, as he gazed at her, the King's intuitive conviction of their -new antagonism deepened.</p> - -<p>An odd, tense, little pause ensued.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, Judith turned, and looked at him.</p> - -<p>A wonderful look. A look which amazed, and dumbfounded the King. -A look, not of antagonism, as he had anticipated, but, welling up -from the depths of her dark, mysterious eyes, a look which spoke, -unmistakably, of a woman's tenderness, sympathy, surrender, love.</p> - -<p>For a breathless moment or two, they stood thus, facing each other.</p> - -<p>Then Judith bent down, hurriedly, over the cots once again.</p> - - - -<p>"If you will go out on to the verandah, Alfred, I will join you there, -in a minute or two," she said.</p> - -<p>Her voice was husky, tremulous, low.</p> - -<p>Mechanically, the King replaced the absurd toy cardboard crown, which -he was still holding in his hand, on Button's pillow. Then, dazed, and -like a man in a dream, he swung slowly round on his heel, and passed -back, through the room, out to the verandah again.</p> - -<p>The nightingales were still singing in the garden. The air was heavy -with the rich scent of some night-blossoming stock, set in one of the -flowerbeds immediately below the verandah rail. The moon was afloat in -a little sea of luminous, billowy, drifting clouds.</p> - -<p>The King sat down in one of the large, wicker work chairs, which always -stood on the verandah.</p> - -<p>He was glad to sit down.</p> - -<p>He was trembling from head to foot—</p> - -<p>It was for rest, and quiet, and peace, that he had run out to see -Judith, and between them, all in a moment, they had blundered, -together, into the thick of an emotional crisis.</p> - -<p>How? Why?</p> - -<p>It was all an inexplicable mystery to him.</p> - -<p>Where was the white line Judith had always drawn round herself? -Where was the barrier of physical reserve she had always maintained -inviolable between them? From the first moment of his arrival, he -realized now, in some odd way, almost in spite of herself as it were, -she had been—alluring!</p> - -<p>A strange, new Judith!</p> - -<p>A sudden, queer feeling of resentment stirred within the King.</p> - -<p>He had been so sure of Judith!</p> - -<p>She had placed him in an impossible, an intolerable position.</p> - -<p>No. That was unfair, unjust. Judith was not to blame. Judith did not -know—how could she know?—the peculiar difficulties, the inexorable -limitations, imposed upon him by his Royal rank. She did not know—how -could she know?—that friendship was all he could accept from, all he -could offer, to, any woman. To Judith, he was merely a young naval -officer, whose frequent visits, whose unmistakable delight in her -society, could have only one meaning.</p> - -<p>He alone was to blame. By his own act, by his own deliberate -concealment of his real identity, he had made this crisis inevitable -from the first.</p> - -<p>What attitude was he to adopt towards Judith now? Could he ignore -what had happened? Could he hope that Judith would allow him to ignore -what had happened? Or had the time come when he must reveal his real -identity to Judith at last? Would she believe him? If she believed him, -would she be able to forgive his deception? And, even if she forgave -him, would not the shadow thrown by his Royal rank irretrievably injure -his intimacy with her, with the Imps, and with Uncle Bond? All the -spontaneity, the ease, and the naturalness of their relationship would -be at an end.</p> - -<p>No. Whatever happened he could not risk that.</p> - -<p>Judith and Uncle Bond, were the only people he had ever known who had -received him, who had accepted him, for what he was himself, the man -who remained when all the adventitious trappings of Royalty had been -discarded. Judith and Uncle Bond, were the only people he ever met, -who treated him as an equal. As an equal? Judith, and Uncle Bond, -quite rightly, often treated him as their inferior, their inferior in -knowledge, in experience, in wisdom.</p> - -<p>The King leant back in his chair, and closed his eyes. He was suddenly -very weary. The reaction following all that he had been through the -last twenty-four hours was heavy upon him. Difficult and dangerous -moments, he realized, lay immediately in front of him. And he was in no -condition to meet either difficulty or danger. What he wanted now was -rest—</p> - -<p>It was some little time before Judith reappeared on the verandah. When -she did reappear she brought with her a tray on which stood decanters, -and glasses, and biscuits, and fruit. A picnic meal, like the one which -he had enjoyed on that first memorable night twelve months ago, had -become, whenever possible, a feature of the ordinary routine of the -King's visits.</p> - -<p>Judith set down her tray on a wicker work table which stood beside the -King.</p> - -<p>The King did not look round. He could not, he dare not, face Judith.</p> - -<p>Judith slipped behind his chair.</p> - -<p>"I am sorry, Alfred," she said. "I blame myself. It was my fault. It -ought not to have happened, tonight, of all nights. You were absolutely -worn out, already, weren't you? I might, I ought to, have remembered -that. I want you to forget all about it, if you can. Now, how long can -you stay?"</p> - -<p>A great wave of relief swept over the King.</p> - - - -<p>Judith was herself again.</p> - -<p>This was the old Judith.</p> - -<p>"I shall have to leave at seven o'clock in the morning, as usual. I -must be back in town by eight o'clock at the latest," he said.</p> - -<p>"Then you must have a drink, and something to eat, at once," Judith, -the old Judith, announced taking absolute command of him again, from -that moment, as was her wont. "We'll stay out here, and listen to the -nightingales, for half an hour, if you like. I am glad they are singing -for you, tonight. And then, and then you will go straight to bed."</p> - -<p>Drawing another chair up to the table, as she spoke, she sat down. Then -she proceeded to wait upon him with the easy, unembarrassed grace which -gave such an intimate charm to all her hospitality.</p> - -<p>"Whisky and soda? And a biscuit? Or will you smoke?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I am too tired to smoke. I am almost too tired to drink, I think," the -King murmured.</p> - -<p>Judith looked at him keenly.</p> - -<p>"What you want is sleep, Alfred," she said. "Drink this! It will do you -good. Don't bother to talk. I'll do the talking."</p> - -<p>The King took the glass which Judith held out to him, and drank, as he -was told.</p> - - - -<p>Then he leant further back still in his chair.</p> - -<p>He had reached a point, he was suddenly conscious now, not far removed -from complete exhaustion.</p> - -<p>In a little while, Judith, as she had promised, began to talk.</p> - -<p>"You will see Uncle Bond, in the morning, of course," she remarked. -"You will do him good. He is in rather a bad way, just at present, -poor old dear. The new serial seems to be giving him a lot of trouble. -'Cynthia St. Claire' isn't functioning properly, at the moment. He's -locked himself up, for several nights now, without any result. He says -it doesn't seem to matter how many candles he lights. 'Cynthia' still -eludes him. It really is a sort of Jekyll and Hyde business with him, -you know. If he is to do any work, he has to be 'Cynthia St. Claire,' -and not James Bond. It is plain James Bond we prefer, of course. But it -is 'Cynthia' who makes all the money, you know.</p> - -<p>"The worst of it is, in spite of what Uncle Bond says, I am afraid it -isn't all 'Cynthia's' fault this time. He's been running up to town, -and knocking about the clubs, a good deal lately. That is nearly always -a sign that he is trying to dodge 'Cynthia.' It is almost as if he had -got something on his mind. Seeing you will do him good. He always gets -what he calls a flow on, when you have been over. He wants it badly -now. The new story is three instalments behind the time-table already. -Part of his trouble, I think, is that he is working on a plain heroine. -He does them alternately, you know. One Plain. The next Ringlets. This -one, I understand, is very plain. He misses the chance, I believe, of -filling in with purple passages of personal description. You have read -some of Uncle Bond's stuff, haven't you? Officially, I am not allowed -to. Unofficially, of course, I read every word of it I can get hold of. -It's wonderful how he keeps it up, isn't it? And, every now and then, -in spite of 'Cynthia,' he slips in something, without knowing it, which -only James Bond could have written. All sorts of unexpected people read -him, you know. He says it is the name, and not the stuff, that does the -trick. I think that it is the stuff. People like romance. Uncle Bond -gives it to them."</p> - -<p>At that moment, the sleep, of which the King stood in such dire need, -long overdue as it was, touched his eyelids.</p> - -<p>Judith shot out her arm, and skilfully retrieved the half empty glass, -which all but fell from his hand.</p> - -<p>A little later, when he awoke with a start, conscious of the strange -refreshment which even a moment's sleep brings, he found that Judith's -hand was in his.</p> - -<p>"It has been a wonderful summer," Judith murmured. "If the sun did not -shine again, for months, we should have no right to complain. First -the lilac, and the chestnuts, and the hawthorn; then the laburnum and -the rhododendrons; and now the wild roses are beginning to show in the -hedges. The skylarks singing at dawn; the cuckoo calling all day; the -thrushes and the blackbirds whistling in the hot afternoon; and the -nightingales, singing at night, as they are singing now! The bright sun -in the morning, the blue sky, and the green of the trees. The haymakers -at work in the fields. The whir of the haycutting machine. The Imps -tumbling over each other in the hay, and calling to me. Diana's foal -in the paddock, all long legs, and short tail. The wren's nest in -the garden, with six little wrens in it for Jenny Wren to feed. The -afternoon sunlight on the trees; Uncle Bond in the garden, chuckling -over his roses; the sunset; the young rabbits, with their white -bob-tails, scuttling in and out of the hedges; a patter of rain on the -leaves; the breeze in the trees; the twilight; the cool of the evening; -and then the blue of the night sky, the stars, and the golden moon, -in a bed of billowy, drifting clouds. The scent of the hayfields, the -scent of the flowers; and the nightingales singing, in the garden, as -they are singing now!</p> - -<p>"The nightingales are singing about it all. Can you hear what they say? -I have been trying to put the nightingales' song into words. Listen! -Those long, liquid notes—"</p> - -<p>The night air was heavy with the scent of the night-blossoming stock, -in the flowerbed, immediately below the verandah rail. The nightingales -sang as if at the climax of their rivalry for mastery. A huge owl -lumbered, rather than flew, across the shadowy garden.</p> - -<p>For a moment, it seemed to the King, as if the verandah, the house, the -garden, and even the night sky, stood away from them, receded, and that -he and Judith were alone, together, in infinite space.</p> - -<p>The moment passed.</p> - -<p>Judith stood up.</p> - -<p>"Bed!" she said, speaking with the note of smiling, kindly discipline, -with which she ruled the Imps, and, when she chose, even Uncle Bond -and himself. "You will be able to sleep now, Alfred."</p> - -<p>The King rose obediently to his feet to find, with a certain dull, -dazed surprise, that he was stiff and sore, and hardly able to stand.</p> - -<p>Dazed as he was, he did not fail to see the look of sharp anxiety which -shone, for a moment, in Judith's eyes.</p> - -<p>"Lean on me, old man!" she exclaimed. "You are done up. I'll see you -to your room. They have been working you too hard. Do they never think -of—the man—in your Service?"</p> - -<p>She put out her arm, as she spoke, and slipped it skilfully round his -shoulders.</p> - -<p>And so, glad of Judith's support, and only restfully conscious of her -nearness now, the King moved off slowly along the verandah towards the -room, at the far end of the silent, darkened house, which had come -to be regarded as his room, and, as such, was strictly reserved, "in -perpetuity," for his use alone.</p> - -<p>"Here you are!" Judith announced, at last, halting at the open window -door of the room. "You will be able to manage by yourself now, won't -you? You must sleep now, Alfred. Dreamless sleep! Every minute of it! -The Imps will call you, as usual, in the morning. Good-night."</p> - -<p>A minute or two later, the King found himself alone, inside the room, -sitting on the edge of the bed, with an urgent desire for sleep rising -within him.</p> - -<p>The fresh, fragrant night air blew softly into the room, through the -open window door, beyond which he could see, as he sat on the edge of -the bed, the gently swaying branches of the garden trees, silhouetted -against the dark blue background of the moonlit sky.</p> - -<p>The nightingales were still singing in the garden.</p> - -<p>Yes. He could sleep here.</p> - -<p>The room itself invited rest, induced sleep. Plainly, although -comfortably furnished, and decorated throughout in a soothing tint -of grey, the room had a spaciousness, even an emptiness, which was -far more to the King's taste, than the ornate fittings of that other -bedroom of his in the palace, where sleep so often eluded him. Beyond -the absolutely necessary furniture, there was nothing in the room, save -the few essential toilet trifles which he kept there. Nothing was ever -altered in, nothing was ever moved from, this room, in his absence. It -had all become congenial, friendly, familiar.</p> - - - -<p>The King undressed, mechanically, in the moonlight, and put on the -sleeping suit which lay ready to his hand, on the bed, at his side.</p> - -<p>Then he got into bed.</p> - -<p>His last thought was one of gratitude to, and renewed confidence in, -Judith. How she had humoured, how she had managed him, coaxing and -cajoling him, as if he had been a sick child, along the shadowy road to -sleep. The emotional crisis which had arisen so inexplicably between -them had, as inexplicably spent its force harmlessly. Their friendship -was unimpaired. Nothing was altered between them. Nothing was to be -altered. Judith had emphasized that. The Imps were to wake him, in the -morning, as usual. He was to see Uncle Bond. All was to be as it had -always been. He was glad. He had no wish for, he shrank instinctively -from the thought of, any changes, here, in Paradise.</p> - -<p>But now he must sleep. Dreamless sleep.</p> - -<p>And so, he fell asleep.</p> - -<p>He slept, at once, so soundly, that he never stirred, when, in a little -while, Judith slipped noiselessly into the room. Crossing to the bed, -she stood, for a moment or two, looking down at him, with all the -unfathomable tenderness in her dark, mysterious eyes, which she had -asked him to forget, which she had made him forget.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, she leant over the bed, and kissed him lightly on the -forehead.</p> - -<p>Then she slipped quickly out of the room, once again.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER V</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">t</span> was to the sound of the patter of bare feet, on the polished floor -of his bedroom, followed by suppressed gurgles of joyous laughter, that -the King awoke, in the morning. Bright sunshine was streaming into -the room, through the still open window door. Button and Bill, their -faces rosy with health and sleep, and their hair still tousled, as it -had come from their pillows, engagingly droll little figures in their -diminutive sleeping suits, stood at his bedside, watching him with -shining, mischievous eyes. As he sat up in bed, they flung themselves -at him, with triumphant shouts, wriggling and swarming all over him, as -they essayed to smother him, under his own bedclothes and pillows.</p> - -<p>At the end of two or three hilarious, and vivid moments of mimic -fight, the King brought the heavy artillery of his bolster to bear -on his enemies, smiting them cunningly in the "safe places" of their -wriggling, deliciously fresh little bodies, and so driving them, inch -by inch, down to the foot of the bed, where, still laughing and -gurgling gloriously, they rolled themselves up, to evade his blows, -like a couple of young hedgehogs.</p> - -<p>Then the King flung his bolster on to the floor, and, reaching out -his arms, took his enemies captive, tucking them, one under each arm, -and holding them there, kicking and protesting, but wholly willing -prisoners.</p> - -<p>Button, at this point, although suspended under the King's left arm, -more or less in mid-air, contrived to wriggle his right hand free, and -held it out gravely, to be shaken. On the strength of his seven years, -Button had lately given up kissing in public, and begun to affect the -formal manner of the man of the world, in matters of courtesy, as -shrewdly observed in Uncle Bond.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, my boy," he remarked, in Uncle Bond's blandest manner.</p> - -<p>In order to shake Button's hand, the King was compelled to release Bill -from his prison, under his right arm. Bill, whose happy fate it was -to be still only five, the true golden age, had no man of the world -pretensions, no sense of shame in his affections. Breaking ruthlessly -into Button's formal greeting, he flung both his chubby arms round -the King's neck, pulled his head down to be kissed, and then hugged -him, with all the force in his lithe little body, chanting in a voice -absurdly like Judith's the while—</p> - -<p>"Diana's got a foal, all legs and stumpy tail, and a white star on its -face. We're making the hay. There's a wren's nest in the garden. It's -past six o'clock, and it's a lovely summer morning, and you've got to -get up, Uncle Alfred."</p> - -<p>From some dusty pigeonhole in his memory, where it had lain since his -own far-away childhood, there floated out into the King's mind, a -phrase, a sentence—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"And I said I will not put forth mine hand to touch my King, for he is -the Lord's Anointed."</p></blockquote> - -<p>It was a phrase, a sentence, which he could trace back to the Bible -lessons, which had been as faithfully and remorselessly delivered, on -Sunday afternoons, in the Royal nursery, as in any other nursery of the -period, when the strict discipline in such matters, derived originally -from the now well-nigh forgotten Victorian era, had not been altogether -relaxed. It was a phrase, a sentence, which had impressed itself upon -his childish imagination, and had, for years, stood between him, and -his father, the King. His father had been the Lord's Anointed. As a -child he had not dared to put forth his hand to touch him! For years, -he had lived in awe, almost in fear, of his own father. Perhaps this -was why, even down to the day of his death, the King had always seemed -to him to be a man apart, isolated, lonely, remote. Perhaps this -was partly why, he himself, now that he was King, was so constantly -conscious of his own intolerable isolation.</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"And I said I will not put forth mine hand to touch my King, for he is -the Lord's Anointed."</p></blockquote> - -<p>If Button and Bill, particularly Bill, whose chubby arms were, even -now, tightening around him, knew his real identity, knew that he was -the King, "the Lord's Anointed," not a fairy tale King, not a King -of their own childish play, but <i>the</i> King, in whose procession they -had thought Uncle Alfred might have a place, would not they live in -awe of him, would not they fear him, would not the present delightful -spontaneity, the fearlessness, the frank embraces, of their intercourse -with him, be irreparably injured?</p> - -<p>Yes. His decision of the night before must stand.</p> - -<p>Button and Bill must never know, Judith and Uncle Bond must never -know, his real identity.</p> - -<p>At that moment, Judith knocked at the bedroom door.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, Alfred. The bathroom is yours, and the Imps, if you -don't mind having them with you, and letting them have a splash," she -called out cheerily. "But no flood in the passage, this morning, mind! -Breakfast in half an hour, on the verandah. We shall be by ourselves. -Uncle Bond has had another bad night. 'Cynthia' has failed him again. -He daren't face eggs and bacon in public, he says. Hurry up, Imps. Big -sponge, floating soap, and bath towels, at the double."</p> - -<p>"I'm first!" Button shrieked, making a wild dive for the door.</p> - -<p>"I'd rather be last!" Bill explained, quite unconcerned, lingering to -give the King a final hug.</p> - -<p>"If I'm last, I shall be able to float 'Ironclad Willie,' and -'Snuffles,' shan't I? They haven't had a swim—for <i>ever</i> so long—poor -dears."</p> - -<p>'Ironclad Willie,' and 'Snuffles,' were a large china fish, and a small -china duck, which Bill sometimes forgot, and sometimes remembered at -bath time.</p> - -<p>A hilarious, crowded, half hour followed. It was a half hour lit up, -for the King, by the blended innocence and mischief which shone in the -Imps' eyes, a half hour set to music for him by the Imps' gurgling -chuckles, and radiant, childish laughter. First came the bathroom, -where the Imps splashed and twisted in the bath, their brown, wriggling -little bodies as lithe and supple as those of young eels; where Bill, -lost in a huge bath towel, demanded assistance in drying all the back -places and corners; where Button solemnly lathered his chin, just -as Uncle Alfred lathered his chin; where Bill was, for one terrible -moment, in imminent peril of his life, as he grabbed at the case of -shining razors. Then came the bedroom again, where odd, queer-shaped -little garments had to be turned right side out, and buttons and -strings had to be fastened, and tied. Innocency, fearlessness, trust, -mischief, and laughter were inextricably mingled in it all, with -laughter predominating, the radiant laughter of the happy child, -ignorant of evil.</p> - -<p>All this was all as it had always been, and, for that reason, it all -made a more poignant appeal, than ever before, this morning, to the -King.</p> - -<p>Breakfast was served, as Judith had promised, out on the sunlit -verandah.</p> - -<p>One glance at Judith, as he approached the breakfast table, assured the -King that it was the old Judith with whom he had to deal.</p> - -<p>Dressed in white, and as fresh and cool as the morning, Judith was -already in her place, at the head of the table, hospitably entrenched -behind the coffee pot.</p> - -<p>She looked up at the King, with her customary little nod, and friendly -smile.</p> - -<p>"You slept? You are rested? It was dreamless sleep? Good boy!" she said.</p> - -<p>And she poured out his coffee.</p> - -<p>From that moment, they fell, easily and naturally, into their usual -routine.</p> - -<p>Intimate conversation, with the Imps at the table, was out of the -question. An occasional glance, a sympathetic smile, was all that -could pass between them. The King was well content to have it so. He -was pleasantly conscious that the accord between them, which had been -so inexplicably broken, for a time, the night before, was completely -restored. Their friendship was unimpaired. Nothing else mattered. -Looking at Judith, cool, competent, and self-contained, as she was, he -found himself almost doubting the actuality of the emotional crisis of -the night before. Had that scene in the night nursery been a dream? A -mere figment of his own fevered, disordered imagination?</p> - -<p>The birds whistled, and called cheerily from the sunlit greenness of -the garden.</p> - -<p>The Imps chattered like magpies as they attacked their porridge.</p> - -<p>It was a merry, informal, delightfully domestic meal.</p> - -<p>This, it seemed to the King, was his only real life. That other life -of his in the palace, guarded, night and day, by the soldiery, and the -police, was the illusion, was the dream.</p> - -<p>But the meal was, inevitably, a hurried one, and it ended, abruptly, -and all too soon, when Judith rose suddenly to her feet, and drove the -Imps before her, along the verandah, to say good morning to Diana's -foal in the paddock.</p> - -<p>No word of farewell was spoken.</p> - -<p>It had become an understood thing, part of the usual routine, that the -King should never say good-bye.</p> - -<p>Left alone, the King leant back in his chair, and filled, and lit, his -pipe. He always lingered for awhile, beside the disordered breakfast -table, on these occasions, so that he could savour to the full, the -peace, the quietness, and the beauty of his surroundings. He had learnt -to store up such impressions in his memory, so that he could invoke -them, for his own encouragement, in his darker hours. And, it was more -than probable, that if he waited a few minutes, Uncle Bond would come -out to speak to him. A sentence or two, from Judith's talk the night -before, recurred to him now. Uncle Bond, really worried, was a new, and -strange, phenomenon. If he could cheer the little man up, as Judith had -suggested, he would be glad. He owed a great deal to Uncle Bond.</p> - -<p>A thrush, perched at the top of a tall fir tree, near the house, -whistled blithely.</p> - -<p>The minutes passed.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond did not come.</p> - -<p>At last, the King glanced reluctantly at his watch. It was seven -o'clock. It was time for him to go. He must be back in the palace by -eight o'clock, at the latest. He stood up. Then, conscious of a keen -sense of disappointment at not seeing Uncle Bond, over and above the -depression which he always felt when the moment came for him to leave -Paradise, he stepped down off the verandah, and moved slowly round the -side of the house, through the sunlit garden, towards the garage.</p> - - - -<p>He had no hope of seeing Judith, or even the Imps, again. They would -stay in the paddock, or in the hayfields beyond, until he had driven -away, clear of the house, and the garden.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER VI</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/u.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">ncle Bond,</span> as it proved, had been waiting for him, all the time, at -the garage.</p> - -<p>The little man had run the King's car, out of the garage, into the -drive. Already seated himself in the car, he looked up, as the King -approached, with a mischievous twinkle in his spectacled eyes, and a -droll smile puckering his round, double-chinned, clean-shaven face.</p> - -<p>"Good morning, my boy, I'm going to see you along the main road, for -a mile or two," he announced. "I shall have to walk back. That will -be good for me. Judith says I'm getting fat! Thought I was cutting -you, didn't you? I thought that I'd stage a little surprise for you. -Astonishment is good for the young. It is the only means we old fogies -have left, nowadays, of keeping you youngsters properly humble. The -Imps have taught me that! Jump in! I want to talk to you."</p> - -<p>The King looked at the corpulent little man, and laughed.</p> - -<p>"I was feeling absurdly disappointed, because I hadn't seen you, Uncle -Bond," he confessed.</p> - -<p>Putting on his thick leather motor coat, and adjusting his goggles, -which the little man had placed in readiness for him, on the vacant -seat at the steering wheel, the King got into the car, and started the -engine.</p> - -<p>"The first mile in silence!" Uncle Bond directed. "If possible I have -got to assume an unaccustomed air of gravity. And drive slowly. The -subtlety of that suggestion probably escapes you. A bar or two of slow -music and—enter emotion! When I chuckle again, you can change your -gear."</p> - -<p>Away from the house, down the short, sunlit drive, and out into, and -up, the narrow tree-shadowed lane beyond, the King drove slowly, and in -silence, as the little man had directed.</p> - -<p>All but buried under the big, black sombrero-like felt hat, which it -was his whim to affect, in grotesque contrast with the light, loosely -cut shooting clothes which were his habitual wear, Uncle Bond sat -low down in his seat in the car, on the King's left. In spite of -his invocation of gravity, gravity remained far from him. Nothing -could altogether efface the mischievous twinkle which lurked in his -spectacled eyes, or blot out, for long, the mocking smile which -puckered his mobile lips. But the King knew Uncle Bond well enough to -realize that he was unusually thoughtful. What was it Judith had said? -It was almost as if Uncle Bond had something on his mind. Judith was -right. The little man, clearly, at any rate, had something that he -wanted to say.</p> - -<p>It was not until the car had swung out of the lane, and headed for -London, was sweeping down the broad, and, at this comparatively early -hour of the morning, empty, Great North Road, that Uncle Bond spoke.</p> - -<p>"We have not seen very much of you, lately, my boy," he remarked. -"You have been busy, no doubt. In the Service, you young men are not -your own masters, of course. And Judith tells me that they have even -made the mistake of giving you—promotion. I have been wondering if -that—promotion—is likely to make your visits to us more difficult, -and so rarer? The increasing responsibility, the increasing demands on -your energy, and on your time, which your—promotion—has, no doubt, -brought with it, will, perhaps, interfere with your visits to us? -Perhaps you will have to discontinue your visits to us, altogether, for -a time?"</p> - - - -<p>Although his own eyes were, of necessity, fixed on the stretch of the -broad, empty, sunlit road, immediately in front of the throbbing car, -the King was uncomfortably aware that Uncle Bond was watching him -narrowly as he spoke. This, then, was the something that the little -man had on his mind. Suspicion? Doubt? Doubt of him? Doubt of his -loyalty to his friends? In spite of the little man's suave manner, and -carefully chosen phrases, it seemed to the King that the inference was -unmistakable. It was an astonishing inference to come from Uncle Bond. -Discontinue his visits? This, when he had just been congratulating -himself on the unchanged nature of his intimacy with Judith, and with -the Imps, so unexpectedly, and seriously, threatened, the night before, -but so thoroughly and happily, re-established, that morning. Had he not -made up his mind that all was to be as it had always been? But Uncle -Bond knew nothing about that, of course.</p> - -<p>"My—promotion—will not interfere with my visits to you, and to -Judith, Uncle Bond," he declared.</p> - -<p>"You are sure of that?" Uncle Bond persisted.</p> - -<p>"Absolutely certain," the King exclaimed, and in spite of his efforts -to suppress it, a note of rising irritation sounded in his voice.</p> - -<p>There was a momentary pause.</p> - -<p>Then Uncle Bond chuckled.</p> - -<p>"Change your gear, my boy. I chuckled! Change your gear," he crowed. "A -mile or two of real speed will do neither you nor me, any harm, now. -Did I not say—'Enter emotion!' But I did not say that it would be my -emotion, did I? You are the hero of this piece. It is for you the slow -music has to be played. I am only the knockabout comedian, useful for -filling in the drop scenes. Or am I the heavy father? 'Pon my soul, -when I come to think of it, it seems to me that I am destined to double -the two parts."</p> - -<p>He laid his hand on the King's arm.</p> - -<p>"I like your answer, my boy. It is the answer I expected you to make. -But I could not be sure. Human nature being the unaccountable thing -that it is, I could not be sure. And now, I have another question to -ask you. And I am the heavy father now. If only I could be grave! If -your visits to us are to continue, don't you think it will be, perhaps, -as well for you to be a little more careful about—the conventions, -shall I say? You arrived very late, last night. Judith was alone to -receive you. Such circumstances are liable to be misunderstood, don't -you think? And, although we are all apt to overlook the fact, we are -all—human. A wise man avoids, for his own sake, and for the sake of -others—certain provocations. 'The prudent man forseeth the evil'—but -the quotation would be lost on you. A text for my sermon!"</p> - -<p>The King had, automatically, let out the car, in response to Uncle -Bond's direction. He applied all his brakes, and slowed the car down -again now, on his own behalf. He wanted to be able to breathe, to think.</p> - -<p>This was the first time Uncle Bond had ever spoken to him in this -way. The wonder, of course, was that he had never spoken to him, in -this way, before. Did the little man know what had happened the night -before? No. That was impossible. Judith would not, Judith could not, -have disclosed what had happened to him. It must be his own unerring -instinct, his own sure knowledge of human nature, which had prompted -the little man to deliver this sermon. This sermon? This generous, -kindly, tactful, whimsical reproof. How well deserved the reproof was, -the events of the night before had shown.</p> - - - -<p>"I am sorry, Uncle Bond. I have been very thoughtless," he said. "It -will not happen again."</p> - -<p>"Judith and I appreciate your visits, my boy," Uncle Bond continued. -"It would be a matter of very great regret to—both of us—if we found -that we had—to limit, in any way—the hospitality, which we have been -so glad to offer you. We wish, we both wish, to maintain our present, -pleasant relationship, unchanged. That is your wish, too, I think?"</p> - -<p>The King let out the car once again. His emotions, his thoughts -required, now, the relief of speed.</p> - -<p>"Somehow, I can never bear to think of any change, where you, and -Judith, and the Imps are concerned, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed. -"Somehow, I can never think of you, except all together, in the -surroundings you have made your own. And that is strange, you know! We -are all, as you say—human. Judith—Judith is the superior of every -woman I have ever met. Her place is, her place ought to be, by right, -at the head of the procession. And yet, somehow, I can never see her -there!"</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond sat very still.</p> - -<p>"At the head of the procession?" he murmured. "Is that so enviable a -position, my boy? Ask the man, ask the men, you find there!"</p> - -<p>He chuckled then unaccountably.</p> - -<p>The King winced. It was only one of the chance flashes of cynicism, -with which Uncle Bond salted his talk, of course. But how true, and -apposite, to his own position, and experience, the remark was!</p> - -<p>"And, if the head of the procession is no enviable place for a man, -what would it be for a woman, for a woman with a heart?" Uncle Bond -proceeded. "'Pon my soul, I am talking pure 'Cynthia'!" he exclaimed. -"'Cynthia' has begun to function, at last! That last sentence was in -the lazy minx's best style. Judith will have told you that 'Cynthia' -has been giving me a lot of trouble lately? You have lured her back, -my boy. I thank you! You always attract her. She has a weakness for -handsome young men. Her heroes are always Apollos."</p> - -<p>He half turned, in his seat, towards the King.</p> - -<p>"My boy, I will offer you another piece of advice," he remarked. "It -is a mistake I do not often make." His habits of speech were too much -for him. Even now, when he was patently in earnest, the little man -could not be grave. "My advice is this—never attempt to put, never -think, even in your own mind, of putting Judith, at the head of any -procession. It is not Judith's place. Her place is in the background, -the best place, the place that the best women always choose, in life. -'Cynthia' again! Pure 'Cynthia'! Welcome, you minx! If you ever -attempt to take Judith out of the background, out of the background -which she has chosen for herself, you will encounter inevitable -disappointment, and cause yourself, and so her, pain. And you will -spoil the—friendship—between you and Judith, which I have found so -much—pleasure in watching. That is not 'Cynthia.' It is myself, plain -James Bond. My advice, you see, like everybody else's, is, by no means, -disinterested."</p> - -<p>The King smiled at the little man, almost in spite of himself. This was -the true Uncle Bond. This was Uncle Bond's way.</p> - -<p>"I wonder if you are right, Uncle Bond? I am afraid, my own feeling -suggests, that you are," he murmured. "And yet, somehow, I am not -sure—"</p> - -<p>Unconsciously, he slowed down the car, yet once again, as he spoke. -The little man had stirred thoughts in him which required deliberate, -and careful, expression.</p> - -<p>"I have not thought very much about the procession, myself, until just -lately," he said. "But it seems to me, you know, that we none of us, -men and women alike, have very much to do with our place in the files. -I have never believed in chance. And I am not, I think, a fatalist. And -yet, you know, it seems to me that the procession catches us up, and -sweeps us along, at the head or the tail, as the case may be, whether -we will or no. A man may be caught up, suddenly, into the procession, -and swept along with it, into some position, which he never expected to -fill, which he would rather not fill, but from which he seems to have -no chance of escape. Has he any chance of escape? It is the procession -that controls us, I think, not we who control the procession. What do -you think? Can a man escape? Can any of us ever really choose our place -in the files?"</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly.</p> - -<p>"Judith told me that they had been overworking you, my boy. Judith, -as usual, was right," he remarked. "You appear to me to be in grave -danger of becoming most satisfactorily morbid. Liver! Almost certainly -liver! But about this procession of yours. 'Pon my soul, the figure, -the fancy, is not unworthy of 'Cynthia' herself. It would make a -useful purple passage. Not for serial publication, of course. We cut -them out there. But we put them in again, when the time comes for the -stuff to go into book form. The procession of life! Yes. The idea is -quite sufficiently threadbare. The one essential, for the successful -production of money-making fiction is, of course, to be threadbare. -Give the public what they have had before! But you are interested in -the procession, not in the literary market. Can a man, or a woman, -choose their place in the files? I say 'yes!'</p> - -<p>"Once or twice, in the life of every man and woman, I believe, come -moments, when they must choose their place in the files, moments when -they have to decide whether they will stay where they are, whether they -will fight to hold the place they have, whether they will shoulder -their way forward, or whether they will fall out, to one side, or to -the rear. All my life, I have been watching the procession, my boy. -That is why I have grown so fat! It is many years, now, since I decided -to step out of the procession, to one side, and I have been watching -it sweep past, ever since. A brave show! But we have been talking -glibly of the head and the tail of the procession. Where are they? I -have never found them. I have never seen them. All I have ever seen is -that the procession is there, and that it moves. But, no doubt, the -band is playing—somewhere—</p> - -<p>"But you are young, and they have just given you—promotion! You are -in the procession, sweeping through the market-place, with all the -flags flying, and the band, as I say, playing—somewhere. But I, and -Judith, we are a little to one side, in the background, watching you, -in the procession, from one of the windows of the quiet, old-fashioned -inn, at the corner of the market-place, the quiet, old-fashioned inn -on the signboard of which is written, in letters of gold, 'Content.' -Your instinct will probably, and very properly, prompt you to fight -for your place in the files, when the other fellows tread too hard on -your heels. But, whether you fight for your place or not, whether you -come out at the head or the tail of the procession, wherever the head -and tail may be, whether you step to one side, or fall out altogether, -whatever happens to you, my boy, Judith and I will always be glad -to welcome you to the inn at the corner, and give you a seat at our -window. You will remember that?</p> - -<p>"And what do you think of that, as a purple passage, my boy? 'Pon my -soul, it seems to me, now, that 'Cynthia' is functioning, she is in -quite her best vein. I must get back home with her, at once. Pull up on -this side of the signpost. I must not advance a foot into Hades, this -morning, or I shall lose touch with the minx. She ought to be good for -five or six thousand words today. And they are badly needed. The new -story is three instalments behind the time-table already. It is the -villain of the new piece, who is giving us trouble. Even 'Cynthia,' -herself, is tired of him, I believe. He is a sallow person, with a -pair of black, bushy eyebrows, which run up and down his forehead, -with a regularity which is depressing. Two or three times, in each -instalment, the confounded things go up and down, like sky-rockets. He -lives in a mysterious house, in one of the mean streets, in the new -artistic quarter, in Brixton. The house is full of Eastern furniture, -and glamour. That is threadbare enough, isn't it? And I am using back -numbers of 'Punch,' for humour."</p> - -<p>Once again, the King let out the car. He knew Uncle Bond well enough -to recognize that the little man was talking extravagantly now, to hide -the note of sincere personal feeling, which had sounded unmistakably -in his talk of the procession, although he had been so careful to -attribute it all to 'Cynthia.' It was on occasions such as this, after -one of his sudden flashes of sincerity, that Uncle Bond became most -outrageously flippant. Nothing but burlesque humour, and grotesque, -extravagant nonsense was to be expected from him now.</p> - -<p>At the moment, flippancy jarred on the King. His attention had been -riveted by the little man's vivid, figurative talk of the procession, -so peculiarly apposite, as it was, to his own position, and the -assurance of unchanging friendship, with which it had ended, had moved, -and humbled him. He did not deserve, in view of his concealment of his -real identity, he had no right to accept, such friendship.</p> - -<p>But Uncle Bond never did the expected thing!</p> - -<p>Now, as the throbbing car leapt forward, and swept along the broad, -sunlit road at its highest speed, the little man became suddenly -silent. A new mood of abstraction seemed to fall upon him. It was -almost as if he had still something on his mind, as if there was still -something which he wanted to say.</p> - -<p>Soon the Paradise-Hades signpost, to which the King himself had -introduced the little man, flashed into view, on the right of the road.</p> - -<p>The King at once pulled up the car, well on the Paradise side of the -post.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond threw off his unusual abstraction, in a moment, and -scrambled, nimbly enough, out of the car.</p> - -<p>The little man tested the car door carefully, to make sure that he had -fastened it securely behind him.</p> - -<p>Then he looked up at the King, with an odd, provocative twinkle in his -mischievous, spectacled eyes.</p> - -<p>"If I were you, Alfred, I should fight for my place in the procession, -if necessary," he remarked. "Fight for your place, if necessary, my -boy! After all, you are young, and they have just given you—promotion. -I have a shrewd suspicion that you would not be satisfied, for long, -by the view from our window, in the quiet, old-fashioned, inn of -'Content.' You would soon want to alter the signboard inscription, -I fancy. An occasional glance through the window is all very well. -It is restful. It serves its purpose. But a taste for the stir -the bustle, the jostling, and the dust and the clamour, in the -market-place, is pretty deeply implanted in all of us. To be in the -movement! It is, almost, the universal disease. A man, who is a man, -a young man, wants to be in the thick of things, in the hurly-burly, -in the street below. What is there for him in a window view? Fight for -your place, if necessary, my boy! And, if you decide to fight, fight -with a good grace, and with all your heart. It is the half-hearted -men, it is the half-hearted women, who fail. The best places in the -procession—whether they are at the head or the tail, and where the -head and the tail are, who knows?—like the best seats at the inn -windows, in the background, fall to the men, fall to the women, who -know what they want, who know their own mind.</p> - -<p>"But, now, I must walk!"</p> - -<p>And with that, and with no other leave-taking, Uncle Bond swung round -abruptly, and set off, with surprising swiftness, for so small, and so -corpulent a man, straight back along the road.</p> - -<p>Automatically, the King restarted the car.</p> - -<p>Then he turned in his seat, to wave his hand, in farewell, to Uncle -Bond.</p> - -<p>But Uncle Bond did not look round.</p> - - - -<p>The King glanced at his watch. It was already half past seven. He had -a good deal of time to make up. But he could do it. He opened out the -car, now, to its fullest extent. The powerful engine responded, at -once, to his touch, and the car shot forward—out of Paradise into -Hades!</p> - -<p>For once the King was unconscious of this transition. He was thinking -of the procession, of Uncle Bond, of Judith, and of himself; their -seats at the inn window; his place in the files. Must the whole width -of the market-place always lie between them? Must it always be only -occasionally, and with some risk—the risk he was running now—that he -stepped out of the procession, and slipped, secretly, into the quiet -"inn of Content," to look through their window, to stand, for a few -moments, at their side? They were in the background. He was at the head -of the procession. At the head? Who knew, who could say, where the head -or the tail was? Was the band playing—somewhere? He had never heard -it. Would he tire of the window view—soon? Was he not tired already, -of his place in the files?</p> - -<p>Fight for his place? Must he fight? A fight was something. The other -fellows were treading very hard on his heels. But was his place worth -fighting for? Did he want it? He had not chosen it. It had been thrust -upon him. The moments of decision, when a man had to choose his place -in the files, about which Uncle Bond had spoken so confidently, had -never come to him. Moments of decision? What could he, what did he, -ever decide? In the very fight for his place, which was impending, -he would not be allowed to commit himself. The fight would be fought -for him, all around him, and he, the man most concerned, was the one -man who could not, who would not be allowed, to take a side. It was -all arranged for him. The old Duke of Northborough, the lightning -conductor, would take the shock! And the result? Did he know what he -wanted? Did he know his own mind? A half-hearted man! What a faculty -Uncle Bond had for hitting on a phrase, a sentence, that stuck, that -recurred. It described him. A half-hearted King. A half-hearted friend. -A half-hearted—lover.</p> - -<p>But was it altogether his fault? Was it not his position, his -intolerable isolation, his responsibility, which, by a bitter paradox, -was without responsibility, that had thrown his whole life out of gear, -and paralysed his will? As a sailor, in his own chosen profession, -with responsibility, with the command of men, he had held his own, more -than held his own, with his peers. He had had his place, an honourable -place, amongst men of the same seniority as himself, and the Navy took -the best men, the pick of the country. Yes. He knew what he wanted -now. A moment of decision. A moment in which he could be himself. A -moment in which he could assert himself, assert his own individuality, -recklessly, violently, prove that he was not a half-hearted man, not an -automaton, not an overdressed popinjay—</p> - -<p>At this point, the appearance of a certain amount of traffic on the -road, as the car swept into the fringe of the outer suburbs, and -the more careful driving which it entailed, broke the thread of the -King's thoughts. The inevitable lowering of the speed of the car which -followed, served to remind him anew that he still had a good deal of -time to make up, thanks to his loitering with Uncle Bond, if he was -to be successful in effecting his return to the palace unobserved. -His rising anxiety about this now all important matter led him -thenceforward to concentrate the whole of his attention on his handling -of the car.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER VII</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">n</span> the outer suburbs, milkmen, postmen, and boys delivering newspapers, -were moving from door to door, in the quiet streets of villas. The -tramcars, and later the buses, which the car caught up, and passed, -were crowded with workmen, being carried at "Workmen's Fares." The shop -fronts, in the inner suburbs, gay in the early morning sunlight, with -their Coronation flags and decorations, were still all shuttered; but a -thin trickle of men and women in the streets, moving in the direction -of the railway stations, gave promise already of the impending rush -of the business crowd. Coronation Day had come, and gone. The public -holiday was over. Now there was work toward.</p> - -<p>At the far end of Tottenham Court Road, by which broad thoroughfare he -approached, as he had escaped from, the town, the King deliberately -varied the route which he had followed the night before. Heading the -car straight on down Charing Cross Road, through Trafalgar Square, -and so into Whitehall, he turned, at last, into Victoria Street. It -was by the side streets, in the vicinity of Victoria Station, that he -ultimately approached the palace, and ran out into Lower Grosvenor -Place. He did this to avoid the neighbourhood of the parks, and -possible recognition by early morning riders, on their way to and from -Rotten Row.</p> - -<p>Lower Grosvenor Place proved, as usual, deserted. In the secluded, -shut-in mews, behind the tall houses, no one, as yet, was stirring. In -a very few minutes, the King had successfully garaged the car. Then he -slipped hurriedly back across Grosvenor Place. The road was happily -still empty, and he reached the small, green, wooden door in the palace -garden wall, without encountering anything more formidable than a stray -black cat. A black cat which shared his taste for night walking. A -purring black cat, which rubbed its head against his legs. A black cat -for luck!</p> - -<p>Unlocking, and opening, the door, the King slipped into the palace -garden.</p> - -<p>The door swung to behind him.</p> - -<p>All need for anxiety, for haste, and for precaution was now at an end.</p> - -<p>It was only just eight o'clock.</p> - -<p>Sauntering leisurely through the garden, the King reached the palace -without meeting any one, on the way. Sometimes, on these occasions, he -ran into gardeners, early at work, a policeman, patrolling the walks, -or some member of the household staff; but such encounters never caused -him any anxiety. Why should not the King take a stroll in the garden, -before breakfast? Had he not been known to dive into the garden lake -for an early morning swim, and had not the fact been duly recorded in -all the newspapers?</p> - -<p>He entered the palace by the door through which he had escaped the -night before, and so, mounting the private staircase, which led up to -his own suite of rooms, regained his dressing room, unchallenged.</p> - -<p>The creation of a certain amount of necessary disorder in his bedroom, -and a partial undressing, were the work of only a few minutes.</p> - -<p>Then he rang his bell, for which, he was well aware, a number of the -palace servants would be, already anxiously listening.</p> - -<p>It was Smith, as the King had been at some pains to arrange, who -answered this, the first summons of the official, Royal day.</p> - -<p>"Breakfast in the garden, in half an hour, Smith," the King ordered. -"See about that, at once. Then you can come back, and get my bath -ready, and lay out the clothes."</p> - -<p>Another bath was welcome, and refreshing, after the dust, and the -excitement of the motor run. Smith's choice of clothes was a new, grey, -lounge suit, of most satisfactory cut, and finish. At the end of the -half hour which he had allowed himself, the King left the dressing -room, and passed down the private staircase, out into the sunlit -garden, with an excellent appetite for his second breakfast.</p> - -<p>The breakfast table had been placed on one of the lawns, in the green -shade thrown by a magnificent sycamore tree. A couple of gorgeously -clad footmen were responsible for the service of the meal but they -soon withdrew to a discreet distance. The unpretentious domestic life, -traditional for so many years, in the palace, had made it comparatively -easy for the King to reduce to a minimum the distasteful ceremony which -the presence of servants adds to the simplest meal.</p> - -<p>A few personal letters, extracted by some early rising member of -his secretarial staff, from the avalanche of correspondence in the -Royal post bags, had been placed, in readiness for the King, on the -breakfast table. One of these letters bore the Sandringham postmark, -and proved to be from his youngest sister, the Princess Elizabeth, who -was still, officially, a school girl. It was a charming letter. With -a frank and fearless affection, a spontaneous naïveté, that pleased -the King, the young Princess wrote to offer him her congratulations on -his Coronation, congratulations which, she confessed, she had been too -shy to voice in public, the day before. The letter touched the King. -He read it through twice, allowing his eggs and bacon, and coffee, to -grow cold, while he did so. There was a note of sincere feeling, of -genuine affection, of sisterly pride in him, mingled with anxiety for -his welfare, in the letter, which afforded a very agreeable contrast -to the subservience of the Family in general, which had so jarred upon -him, at the state banquet, the night before. This sister of his seemed -likely to grow up into a true woman, a loyal and affectionate woman. -She reminded him, in some odd way, of Judith.</p> - -<p>What would the future bring to this fresh, unspoilt, sister of his? "A -woman, a woman with a heart, at the head of the procession." Another -of Uncle Bond's phrases! What an insight the little man had into the -possibilities of positions, and situations, which he could only -have known in imagination, in the imagination which he wasted on the -construction of his grotesquely improbable tales! He must do what he -could for this fresh, unspoilt sister of his. That would be little -enough in all conscience! Meanwhile he could write to her, and thank -her for her letter. That was an attention which would please her.</p> - -<p>Producing a small, morocco bound, memorandum tablet, which he always -carried about with him, in his waistcoat pocket, the King made a note -to remind him to write to the Princess, in one of the intervals of his -busy official day.</p> - -<p>"Write to Betty."</p> - -<p>Then he resumed his attack on his eggs and bacon, and coffee. He did -not notice that they were cold. This letter of his sister's had turned -his thoughts to—the Family!</p> - -<p>He was the Head of the Family now. Somehow, he had hardly realized the -fact before. In the circumstances, it really behoved him, it would be -absolutely necessary for him, to try to get to know something about the -various members of the Family. His early distaste for Court life, his -absorption in his own chosen profession, his frequent absences at sea, -had made him, of course, little better than a stranger to the rest -of the Family. And, if they knew little or nothing about him, he knew -less than nothing about them. The Prince had been the only member of -the Family with whom he had had any real intimacy, since the far off -nursery days they had all shared together, the only link between him -and the others. And now the Prince was dead.</p> - -<p>This fresh, unspoilt sister of his would probably be worth knowing. -Any girl, who recalled Judith, must be well worth knowing. And there -was Lancaster! Lancaster was now, and was likely to remain, Heir -Apparent. And William? William had looked a very bright, and engaging -youngster, in his naval cadet's uniform, the day before. The others? -The others did not matter. But Lancaster, and William, and Betty, he -must get to know. And now, at the outset of their new relationship, he -had a favourable opportunity to take steps in the matter, which would -not recur. He could let them know that he was their brother, as well -as—the King! No doubt, they had their problems, and difficulties, just -as he had his. He would do what he could, to make life easy for them. -After all, it was quite enough that one member of the Family, at a -time, should be condemned to the intolerable isolation, and the dreary, -treadmill round of the palace.</p> - -<p>Might he not usefully begin, at once, with Lancaster? He could send a -message to Lancaster, asking him to join him, at his informal lunch, -at the palace, at noon. Lancaster had always seemed, to him, a dull, -rather heavy, conventional, commonplace person; but there might be -something human in him, after all. Perhaps, at an informal intimate -encounter, he might be able to establish some contact with him, and -get him to talk a little about himself. That would be interesting, and -useful. Yes. Lancaster should provide his first experiment in Family -research.</p> - -<p>Picking up his memorandum tablet again, from where he had dropped it on -the breakfast table, the King made another note, to remind him to send -the necessary message to Lancaster during the morning.</p> - -<p>"Send message to Lancaster."</p> - -<p>The fact that he was not sure whether Lancaster, or even William, would -still be in town, emphasized, in his own mind, his ignorance of the -Family.</p> - -<p>At this point, the gorgeously clad footmen approached the table. One -of them removed the used dishes and plates. The other placed a stand of -fresh fruit in front of the King.</p> - -<p>The King selected an apple, and proceeded to munch it like any -schoolboy.</p> - -<p>It was a good apple.</p> - -<p>After all, life had its compensations!</p> - -<p>And, he suddenly realized now, he was beginning to take hold of his -job, at last. This decision of his to tackle the Family, to get to -know them personally, was his own decision. It was an expression of -his own individuality, the exercise of his own will. The thought gave -him a little thrill of pride, and pleasure. Perhaps, after all, there -was going to be some scope, some freedom, for his own personality, -in his place in the procession, more scope, more freedom than he had -been inclined to think. His own shoulders, directed by his own brain, -might make a difference in the jostling in the market-place. If the -opportunity arose, he would put his weight into the scrimmage.</p> - -<p>The King finished his apple, and then filled and lit his pipe.</p> - -<p>The footmen cleared away the breakfast things.</p> - -<p>Soothed by tobacco, and cheered by the bright morning sunlight, the -King leant back in his chair.</p> - -<p>It was another wonderful summer day. Overhead the sky was a luminous, -cloudless blue. The sunlight lay golden on the green of the trees, -and on the more vivid green of the lawn. The garden flower beds were -gay with masses of brilliant hued blossoms. One or two birds whistled -pleasantly from the neighbouring trees and bushes. A fat starling -strutted about the lawn, digging for worms.</p> - -<p>A sense of general well-being stirred in the King, a sense of -well-being which surprised him, for a moment, but only for a moment. -It was always so, when he had been in Paradise, with Judith. Always he -returned to the palace refreshed, and strengthened, with a new zest -for, with a new appreciation of, the joy of mere living. Somehow, he -must see to it, that his—promotion—did not interfere with his visits -to Judith, and to Uncle Bond. He must see to it—in the interest of the -State! He smiled as the words occurred to him. In the interest of the -State? What would his fellow victims of the State, of the people, the -old Duke of Northborough, for example, say to that, if they knew? But -the words were justified. It was to the interest of the State that -he, the King, should obtain, from time to time, the refreshment, the -renewed strength, the zest, the sense of general well-being, of which -he was so pleasantly conscious now.</p> - -<p>But, meanwhile, in the interest of the State, he must not, he could -not afford to, waste any more of these golden, summer morning moments, -idling here in the garden. The avalanche of correspondence in the -post bags, and the official documents, and dispatches, which had -accumulated, during the last day or two, owing to the special demands -on his time made by the Coronation, were awaiting him in the palace. -Long hours of desk work lay before him. The thought did not displease -him. He was in the mood for work. Here was something he could put -his weight into. Here was an opportunity for individual action, and -self-expression, an opportunity for the exercise of his own judgment, -driving power, decision.</p> - -<p>Knocking out his pipe, the King stood up abruptly.</p> - -<p>Then, whistling gaily, an indication of cheerfulness which had grown -very rare with him, of late, he crossed the lawn, and re-entered the -palace, on his way back to duty.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER VIII</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">t</span> was in the palace library, a large and lofty room on the ground -floor, with a row of tall windows overlooking the garden, that the -King spent his office hours. The library was strictly reserved for -his use alone. The secretaries, who served his personal needs, were -accommodated in a smaller room adjoining, which communicated with -the library by folding doors. Although he was compelled to maintain, -in this way, the isolation which was so little to his taste, it -was characteristic of the King, in his dealings with his immediate -subordinates, that he should take some pains not to appear too patently -the man apart. This was the way they had taught him in the Navy. On -more than one "happy ship," on which he had served, the King had learnt -that, to get good work out of subordinates, it was expedient to treat -them as fellow workers, and equals, as men, although graded differently -in rank, for the purposes of discipline, and pay. It was in more or -less mechanical application of this principle, that, still whistling -gaily, he chose now, to enter the library, not directly, but through -the secretaries' room adjoining.</p> - -<p>In the airy, sunny, secretaries' room, the low murmur of talk, and the -clatter of typewriters, which seem inseparable from office work, ceased -abruptly. There was a general, hurried, pushing back of chairs. Then -the half dozen men and women in the room rose, hastily, to their feet. -They had not expected to see the King so early. After the exhausting -Coronation ceremony of the day before, and the heavy demands on his -strength, which the day, as a whole, had made, they had expected him -to rest. And here he was, a little before his usual time, if anything, -buoyant, and vigorous, and laughing goodhumouredly at their surprise -and confusion, ready apparently to attack the accumulation of papers -which they had waiting for him.</p> - -<p>With a genial nod, which seemed to be directed to each man and woman -present, individually, the King passed quickly through the room, into -the library beyond, opening and shutting the intervening folding doors -for himself, with a sailor's energy.</p> - -<p>The secretaries, men and women alike, turned, and looked at each other, -and smiled.</p> - - - -<p>Although he was, of necessity, ignorant of the fact, the King had left -interested, and very willing fellow workers behind him.</p> - -<p>The library was almost too large, and too lofty a room to be -comfortably habitable. Worse still, in spite of its south aspect, and -its row of tall windows, the eight or nine thousand volumes, which -filled the wire fronted bookcases, which ran round two sides of the -room, it always seemed to the King, gave it a dead and musty air. These -books were for show, not for use. No one ever took them down from the -shelves. No one ever read them. The erudite, silver-haired, palace -librarian, himself, was more concerned with the rarities amongst them, -and with his catalogue, than with their contents. But the books, musty -monuments of dead men's brains, as he regarded them, were not the -King's chief complaint. A number of Family portraits, which usurped the -place of the bookcases, here and there, on the lofty walls, were his -real grievance. A queer feeling of antagonism had grown up between him -and these portraits. They always seemed to be watching him, watching -him, and disapproving of him. The mere thought of them sufficed to -check his good spirits, now, as he entered the library. As he sat down -at his writing table, he turned, and looked round at them defiantly.</p> - -<p>The writing table stood as close up to the row of tall windows, on -the south side of the library, as was possible. The windows, with -their pleasant view of the sunlit greenness of the garden, were on the -King's left, as he sat at the table. Straight in front of him were the -undecorated, black oak panels of the folding doors which led into the -secretaries' room. On his right on the north wall of the library, were -many of the books, and three of the portraits.</p> - -<p>First of all, there, in the corner by the folding doors, was a portrait -of his grandfather, in the Coronation robes, and full regalia, which he -himself had been compelled to wear, the day before; a strong, bearded -man, with a masterful mouth, which was not hidden by his beard. A -King. Further along, on the right, past several square yards of books, -hanging immediately above the ornate, carved, marble mantelpiece, in -the centre of the north wall, was a portrait of his father, in Field -Marshal's uniform, with his breast covered with decorations; a man -apart, isolated, lonely, remote, with a brooding light in his eyes. A -King, too. Then, past more books, in the furthest corner of the room, -by the door, came the portrait of his mother, a stately, commanding -figure, in a wonderful, ivory satin gown, marvellously painted. A -Queen. And a hard woman, hard with her children, and harder still with -herself, where what she had held to be a matter of Family duty had been -concerned. And, last of all, in the centre of yet more books, on the -east wall, behind him, was the portrait of his brother, the dead Prince -of Wales, a more human portrait this, to see which, as he sat at the -writing table, he had to swing right round in his revolving chair; the -Prince, in the pink coat, white cord riding breeches, and top boots, of -the hunting field, which had been his favourite recreation, leaning a -little forward, it seemed, and smiling out of the canvas with the smile -which had won him so much, and such well deserved popularity.</p> - -<p>All these had borne the Family burden, without complaint. All these had -accepted the great responsibility of their position, without question, -and even with a certain Royal pride. They had made innumerable, never -ending sacrifices.</p> - -<p>And he? An unwilling King? A half-hearted King?</p> - -<p>No wonder they disapproved of him!</p> - - - -<p>The King swung round, impatiently, in his chair, back to the writing -table again.</p> - -<p>An unwilling King, a half-hearted King, he might be; but, at any rate, -he could labour. He could put his full weight into his work. He could -show, in his own way, even if it was not the Family way, even if the -Family disapproved of him, that he, too, was a man, that he, too, had -individuality, force of character, driving power, decision—</p> - -<p>Portfolios, and files, of confidential State documents had been -arranged, in neat piles, and in a sequence which was a matter of a -carefully organized routine, on the left of the writing table. On the -right stood a number of shining, black japanned dispatch boxes, and one -or two black leather dispatch cases, of the kind carried by the King's -Messengers. The "In" boxes for correspondence, in the centre of the -table, were filled with a formidable accumulation of letters. The "Out" -boxes, beside them, looked, at the moment, in the brilliant, morning -sunlight, emptier than emptiness.</p> - -<p>An almost bewildering array of labour saving devices, stamping, -sealing, and filing machines, completed the furnishing of the table. -These, the King swept, at once, contemptuously to one side. The -telephone instrument, which stood on a special shelf at his elbow, was -the only labour saving device he ever used. A plain, and rather shabby -fountain pen, and two or three stumps of coloured pencil, were the -instruments with which he did his work. It was not until he had found -these favourite weapons of attack, and placed them ready to his hand, -on his right, that he set himself to deal with the accumulation of -papers in front of him.</p> - -<p>The letters in the "In" boxes were his first concern. These he had -merely to approve, by transferring them to the "Out" boxes, ready for -posting. It was a transfer which he could safely have made, which he -very often did make, without reading a single letter. His personal -correspondence was in the capable hands of Lord Blaine, who had served -his father, as private secretary, for many years before him. But -this morning, in his new determination to find an outlet for his own -individuality, the King elected to read each of the letters through -carefully. Lord Blaine had acquired a happy tact, in the course of -his long experience, in answering the letters, from all sorts and -conditions of people, which found their way into the Royal post bags, -which was commonly considered beyond criticism.</p> - - - -<p>None the less, now, as he read the letters, a conviction grew upon the -King that not a few of the courtly old nobleman's phrases had become -altogether stereotyped.</p> - -<p>One letter, in particular, addressed to some humble old woman, in -a provincial almshouse, congratulating her on her attainment of a -centenary birthday, seemed to him far too formal. The old woman had -written a quaint, and wonderfully clear letter, in her own handwriting -to the King. Seizing his favourite stump of blue pencil, he added, on -the spur of the moment, two or three unconventional sentences of his -own, to Lord Blaine's colourless reply—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"I am writing this myself. I don't write as well as you do, do I? But -I thought you might like to have my autograph as one of your hundredth -birthday presents. This is how I write it—</p> - -<p> -"<span class="smcap">Alfred. R.I.</span>"<br /> -</p></blockquote> - -<p>Laughing softly to himself the King tossed the letter, thus amended, -into one of the "Out" boxes.</p> - -<p>The little incident served to revive his previous good spirits.</p> - -<p>Lord Blaine would probably disapprove.</p> - -<p>But the old woman would be pleased!</p> - - - -<p>From the correspondence boxes, he turned, in due course, to the -portfolios and files on the left of the table. These contained reports, -and routine summaries from the various Government departments, copies -of official correspondence, one or two Government publications, and -certain minor Cabinet papers, and they required more concentrated -attention. He had to make himself familiar with the contents of the -various documents, and this involved careful reading. An abstract, or -a skilful précis, prepared by his secretaries, and attached to the -papers, occasionally saved his time and labour; but even these had to -be read, and the reading took time. Happily, here, as before, little or -no writing, on his part, was necessary. An initial, and a date, to show -that he had seen the document in question, a few words of comment, or -a curt request for more information, were the only demands made on his -blue pencil.</p> - -<p>Documents, and copies of correspondence, from the Foreign and Dominion -Offices, held the King's attention longest. To him these were not -"duty" papers, as were so many of the others. The place names, the -names of the foreign diplomats, and of the Dominion statesmen, and -administrators, which occurred in these papers, were familiar to him, -thanks to the many ports, and countries, the many men and cities, he -had seen in his varied naval service. Here and there, in these papers, -a single word would shine out, at times, from the typewritten page -in front of him, which conjured up, a vision, perhaps, of one of the -world's most beautiful roadsteads, or a mental picture of the strong -and rugged features of some man, who was a power, a living force, -amongst his fellows, in the wilder places of the earth, or a vivid -memory of the cool and spacious rooms of some Eastern club house where -men, who lived close to the elemental facts of life, gathered to make -merry, and to show unstinted hospitality to the stranger. Here he was -on sure ground. Here, he knew, his comments were often of real value. -He had seen the country. He had met, and talked with, the men on the -spot. Frequently, his knowledge of the questions raised in these papers -was quite as comprehensive, and as intimate, as that of the oldest -permanent officials in Whitehall.</p> - -<p>At the end of an hour and a half of hard and methodical work, the King -became suddenly aware that he had made considerable progress in his -attack on the accumulation of papers in front of him.</p> - -<p>Leaning back in his chair he touched a bell which stood on the table -beside him.</p> - -<p>The folding doors, leading into the secretaries' room, were immediately -opened, and a tall, fair, good looking young man, who was chiefly -remarkable for the extreme nicety of his immaculate morning dress, -entered the library, in answer to the summons.</p> - -<p>The King indicated the now full "Out" boxes, with a gesture, which -betrayed his satisfaction, and even suggested a certain boyish pride, -in the visible result of his labour.</p> - -<p>"Anything more coming in?" he enquired.</p> - -<p>"Not at the moment, I think, sir. The Government Circulations are -all unusually late this morning, sir," the tall young man replied, -approaching the table, and picking up the "Out" boxes for removal to -the secretaries' room.</p> - -<p>The King was filling his pipe now. He felt that he had earned a smoke.</p> - -<p>"Bought any cars, lately, Blunt?" he enquired, with a merry twinkle in -his eyes.</p> - -<p>He had suddenly realized that this was Geoffrey Blunt, the nominal -tenant of the garage in Lower Grosvenor Place, and the nominal -purchaser of the car housed there.</p> - -<p>Geoffrey Blunt laughed, and then blushed, as he became conscious of the -liberty into which the King had betrayed him.</p> - -<p>"We must organize one of our little incognito excursions, in the near -future, Blunt, I think," the King murmured, looking out through the -tall windows, on his left, at the sunny, morning glory of the garden. -"We will run out into the country."</p> - -<p>At the moment, his thoughts were in Paradise. Judith and the Imps, in -all probability, would be in the hayfields—</p> - -<p>"You must be ready for a holiday, sir," Geoffrey Blunt ventured -to remark. "You took us all by surprise, this morning, sir. After -yesterday, we did not expect to see you, so early, this morning, sir."</p> - -<p>"No. And that reminds me of something I wanted to say," the King -replied, looking round from the windows, and speaking with a sudden, -marked change of manner. "I can see by the papers which you had waiting -for me, this morning, that you people have all been keeping hard at it -during the last day or two. I appreciate that. Tell your colleagues, in -the next room, that I expressed my appreciation. That is all now. Let -me see today's Circulations, when they do arrive. I do not want to be -faced with an accumulation of papers, like this morning's, again."</p> - -<p>Flushing with pleasure at this praise, Geoffrey Blunt bowed, and -withdrew, taking the "Out" boxes with him.</p> - -<p>The King smiled to himself as he lit his pipe.</p> - -<p>"But who is there to praise me?" he muttered.</p> - -<p>Leaning back in his chair, for a moment or two, he gave himself up to -the luxury of the true smoker's idleness.</p> - -<p>But had there not been something that he had meant to do, in any -interval of rest, like this, which might occur during the morning?</p> - -<p>The morocco bound memorandum tablet, which he produced from his -waistcoat pocket, answered the question—</p> - -<p>"Write to Betty."</p> - -<p>"Send message to Lancaster."</p> - -<p>It was too late to send any message to Lancaster now. A couple of hours -was not sufficient notice to give him of an invitation to lunch. He was -not intimate enough with Lancaster to treat him in so offhand a manner. -It would be an abuse of his new position, a tactical mistake. The lunch -must be arranged for tomorrow. Crossing off his original note, he -scribbled another—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>Lancaster to lunch tomorrow. See him, personally, this afternoon, or -this evening.</p></blockquote> - -<p>But he could write to Betty!</p> - -<p>Clearing a space on the writing table, by pushing to one side the less -urgent documents and papers, which he had retained for subsequent -attention, he picked up his fountain pen; then, when he had found, -after some search, a sheet of note paper sufficiently plain and -unostentatious, to suit his taste, he began to write—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p> - -<i>Dear Betty</i>,<br /> -</p> - -<p>Your letter this morning gave me great pleasure. I do not know that -there is very much pleasure in this business of being King—</p></blockquote> - -<p>But he got no further.</p> - -<p>The folding doors facing him were suddenly reopened.</p> - -<p>Then there entered, not Geoffrey Blunt, nor any other member of the -secretarial staff, but—the old Duke of Northborough.</p> - -<p>The King looked up with a surprise which at once gave place to a smile -of welcome. This was contrary to all etiquette. But he was glad to -see the old Duke. And it was in deference to his own repeated requests -on the subject that the veteran Prime Minister had lately consented -to make his visits to the palace, in working hours, as informal as -possible.</p> - -<p>Putting down his pipe, and his pen, the King stood up to receive the -old statesman.</p> - -<p>The Duke, as if to atone for the abruptness of his entry, paused for a -moment on the threshold of the large and lofty room, and bowed, with a -slightly accentuated formality.</p> - -<p>The folding doors behind him were closed by unseen hands.</p> - -<p>Then he advanced, into the room, towards the King.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER IX</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/a.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">n</span> unusually tall man, and a big man, with a breadth of chest, and a -pair of shoulders, which had made him conspicuous, in every assembly, -from his youth up, the Duke still held himself erect, and moved in a -big way. Now, as he advanced into the large and lofty room, the thought -came to the King, that here was a man for whom the room was neither -too large, nor too lofty. While he himself was apt to feel lost in the -library, overpowered by its size, and oppressed by the weight of its -inanimate objects, the Duke moved as if in his natural and fitting -surroundings. The force, the vigour, of the wonderful old man at once -relegated the huge room to its proper place in the background. The -effect was very much as if the library had been a stage scene, in which -the scenery had predominated, until this, the moment when a great actor -entered, and drew all eyes.</p> - -<p>It was characteristic of the Duke that he should be dressed with -a carelessness bordering on deliberate eccentricity. The roomy, -comfortable, sombre black office suit, which he was wearing, looked -undeniably shabby, and hung loosely on his giant frame. His head -was large. His hair, which he wore a little longer than most men, -snow-white now but still abundant, was brushed back from his broad -forehead in a crescent wave. His features were massive, and strongly -moulded. His nose was salient, formidable, pugnacious. His mouth -was wide. His lips had even more than the usual fulness common to -most public speakers. But his eyes were the dominant feature of his -face. His eyebrows were still black, thick, and aggressively bushy. -Underneath them, his eyes shone out, luminous and a clear blue, with -the peculiar, piercing, penetrative quality, which seems to endow its -possessor with the power to read the secret, unspoken, thoughts of -other men.</p> - -<p>"Enter—the Duke!" the King exclaimed, with an engagingly boyish smile, -as the veteran Prime Minister approached the writing table. "The Duke -could not have entered at a more opportune moment. I was just taking an -'easy.' Shall we stay here, or go out into the garden, or up on to the -roof?"</p> - -<p>"We will stay here, I think, if the decision is to rest with me, sir," -the Duke replied, in his sonorous, deep, and yet attractively mellow -voice. "I bring news, sir. As usual, I have come to talk!"</p> - -<p>"Good," the King exclaimed. "Allow me—"</p> - -<p>Placing his own revolving chair in position for the Duke, a little way -back from the writing table, as he spoke, he invited him to be seated, -with a gesture.</p> - -<p>Then he perched himself on the writing table, facing the old statesman.</p> - -<p>The Duke settled himself, deliberately, in the revolving chair, -swinging it round to the right, so that he could escape the brilliant, -summer sunshine, which was streaming into the room, through the row -of tall windows, on his left. His side face, as it was revealed now -to the King, wrinkled and lined by age as it was, had the compelling, -masterful appeal, the conspicuous, uncompromising strength, of an -antique Roman bust.</p> - -<p>"I had just begun a letter to my sister, the Princess Elizabeth, when -you came in," the King remarked, maintaining the boyish attitude, which -he could never avoid, which, somehow, he never wished to avoid, in the -Duke's presence. "It suddenly occurred to me, this morning, that I am -the Head of the Family now. I am a poor substitute for my immediate -predecessors, I am afraid." He looked up, as he spoke, at the portraits -on the opposite side of the room. "But I have decided that I must do my -best in my new command."</p> - -<p>The Duke looked up in turn. Following the King's glance, his luminous, -piercing eyes rested, for a moment or two, on the portraits.</p> - -<p>"None of your immediate predecessors were ever called upon to play so -difficult a part, as you have to play, sir," he said.</p> - -<p>Something in the Duke's manner, a note of unexpected vehemence in his -sonorous voice, arrested the King's wandering attention.</p> - -<p>His boyishness fell from him.</p> - -<p>"What is it?" he asked. "I remember, now, you said you brought news. Is -it—bad news?"</p> - -<p>"No. It is good news, sir. I could not bring you better news," the Duke -replied. "But, I am afraid, in spite of all my warnings, you are not -prepared for the announcement which I have to make."</p> - -<p>He paused there, for a moment, and looked away from the King.</p> - -<p>"The storm, which we have been expecting, for so long, sir," he added, -slowly, dwelling on each word, "is about to break."</p> - - - -<p>The King started, and winced, as if he had been struck.</p> - -<p>"The storm?" he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Is about to break, sir," the Duke repeated.</p> - -<p>There was a long, tense pause.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, the King laughed, a bitter, ironic laugh.</p> - -<p>"I have been a fool," he exclaimed. "In my mind, the glass was 'Set -Fair.' I had—forgotten—the storm! I was going to take hold of my job. -I was going to put my full weight into my work. I was even going to -cultivate the Family, as I was telling you—"</p> - -<p>He checked himself abruptly.</p> - -<p>"What is going to happen?" he asked.</p> - -<p>The Duke drew out his watch, an old-fashioned, gold-cased, half hunter, -and looked at it judicially.</p> - -<p>"It is now nearly eleven o'clock. In an hour's time, at twelve noon -precisely, a universal, lightning strike will take effect, throughout -the length and breadth of the country, sir," he replied. "All the -public services will cease to run. The individual workman, no matter -where, or how, he is employed, as the clock strikes twelve, will lay -down his tools, put on his coat, and leave his work. Such a strike -is no new thing, you will say. But this is no ordinary strike, sir. -Although whole sections of trades unionists, up and down the country, -we have good ground to believe, have no very clear idea, why they are -striking, although many of their local leaders appear to have been -deceived into the belief that the strike has been called for purely -industrial reasons, we have indubitable evidence that it is designed -as a first step in the long delayed conspiracy to secure the political -ascendency of the proletariat. A little company of revolutionary -extremists have, at last, captured the labour machine, sir. It is they -who are behind this strike. Behind them, I need hardly tell you, are -the Internationalists, and the Communists, on the Continent, ready, -and eager, to supply arms, ammunition, and money, if the opportunity -arises, on a lavish scale.</p> - -<p>"Although we have been expecting the storm for so long, this strike -form, which it has taken, I may confess to you, sir, has come to -us as something of a surprise. The strike leaders, I surmise, are -relying, very largely, on that surprise effect, for their success. -They imagine, they hope, no doubt, that they will find the Government, -elated and thrown off their guard by the success of the Coronation, -unprepared; that, in the chaos, which they believe must ensue, the -whole nation will be at their mercy; that, having demonstrated their -power, they will be able to dictate their own terms. What those terms -would be, sir, there can be no question. Internationalism. Communism. A -Republic. That persistent delusion of the fanatic, and the unpractical -idealist—the Perfect State. Armed revolt was their original plan, sir. -Thanks to the vigilance of our Secret Service Agents, that contingency -has, I believe, been obviated. But the Red Flag is still their symbol, -sir. In the absence of arms, a bloodless revolution appears now to be -their final, desperate dream. They will have a rude awakening, sir. In -less than twenty-four hours they will be—crushed!</p> - -<p>"You will remember the alternative, protective schemes, for use in -the event of a national emergency, which I had the honour to lay -before you, for your consideration, a few weeks ago, sir? One of those -schemes, the 'Gamma' scheme, is already in force. At a full meeting of -the Cabinet, held in Downing Street, this morning, sir, the immediate -operation of the 'Gamma' scheme, and the declaration of Martial Law, -on which it is based, were unanimously approved. The military, and -the naval authorities are already making their dispositions. By -this time, the Atlantic, the North Sea, and the Channel Fleets, will -be concentrating. The closing of all the ports, and the blockade -of the whole coast line, provided for in the scheme, will follow -automatically. The military authorities, you will remember, are to take -over the control of the railways, aviation centres, and telegraphic and -wireless stations, and support, and reinforce, the police, as required. -The Home Secretary assures me that the police can be relied upon -implicitly to do their duty. The Chief of the General Staff declares -that the Army, regrettably small as it is, is sufficient to meet all -the demands which are likely to be made upon it. Of the Navy, there -is no need for me to speak to you, sir. In the circumstances, I feel -justified in assuring you, that we have the situation well in hand."</p> - -<p>The Duke stood up. To him, the orator, the practised debater, speech -always came more easily, and naturally, when he was on his feet. He -turned now, and faced the King, towering head and shoulders above him, -a formidable, and dominating figure. When he spoke again, there was an -abrupt, compelling, personal note in his sonorous voice.</p> - -<p>"I want you to leave the palace, sir. I want you to remove the Court, -at once, into the country," he said. "Do not misunderstand me, sir. I -do not believe that your person is in any danger. I do not anticipate, -as I have already indicated, that we shall be called upon to meet armed -revolt. In any case, Londoners are proverbially loyal. But there will -be rioting, and window smashing, in places, no doubt. Something of the -sort may be attempted, here, at the palace. In the circumstances, it -will be as well, that you should be elsewhere.</p> - -<p>"In urging you to leave the palace, and to remove the Court into the -country, I have, too, another, and a more important motive, sir," he -continued. "It is, of course, a fundamental condition, a constitutional -truism, of our democratic monarchy, that the King must take no side. -How far that consideration must govern the King's actions, when his own -position is directly attacked, is a question which, I imagine, very -few of our leading jurists would care to be called upon to decide! -But I attach the very greatest importance to the preservation of your -absolute neutrality, in the present crisis, sir. When the impending -storm has spent its force, and the danger, such as it is, has subsided, -there will be a considerable body of people, up and down the country, -who will contend that the Government have acted precipitately, -unconstitutionally, and with wholly unnecessary violence. In meeting -such criticism, I wish to be able to emphasize the fact that the -Government have acted throughout on their own responsibility, on my -responsibility, without any reference to you at all, sir. I do not -propose to advance, on your behalf, the time-honoured excuse that His -Majesty accepted the advice tendered to him by his advisers. I propose -to emphasize the fact that you at once removed the Court into the -country, and took no part whatever in the suppression of the rebellion. -In the result, your position will be maintained inviolate, but you will -not share in the unpopularity, and the odium, which a demonstration -of strength inevitably, and invariably, evokes. This is why I said -that you have a more difficult part to play than any of your immediate -predecessors were ever called upon to play, sir. Although the battle is -joined, and you are so intimately concerned with its result, you will -have to stand on one side, and take no part in the conflict. And you -are a young man, and a high spirited young man. You will resent your -neutrality.</p> - -<p>"But I am the lightning conductor, sir! It is my duty, as I see it, -and I regard it as the honour of my life, to take the full shock of the -lightning flash, so that the Crown may remain on your head unshaken. -And the Crown will not only remain on your head unshaken. It will be -more firmly fixed there than before. In twenty-four, or forty-eight, -hours, at the most, sir, you will be more surely established on the -throne than any of your immediate predecessors.</p> - -<p>"That is why I said, at the outset, that this is good news which I have -brought you, sir; that I could not bring you better news. This is good -news, sir. Never have I dared to hope that the battle, which we have -been expecting so long, would be joined, at a time, and on ground, so -wholly favourable to the forces of law and order. I have no doubt of -the adequacy, and the smooth working of the 'Gamma' scheme, in the -existing crisis, sir. It will be many years, probably the whole of your -reign, perhaps a generation, before the revolutionary extremists in -this country recover from the overwhelming disaster towards which they -are rushing at this moment."</p> - -<p>It was then, and not until then, that the King slipped down from his -perch on the writing table to his feet.</p> - - - -<p>Instinctively, he turned to the row of tall windows, on his right.</p> - -<p>He wanted light. He wanted air.</p> - -<p>Outside, in the palace garden, the brilliant morning sunshine lay -golden on the green of the grass, and on the darker green of the trees.</p> - -<p>The whistling of a thrush, perched on a tree near the windows, seemed -stridently audible.</p> - -<p>Behind him, beside the writing table, the Duke stood, motionless, -silent, expectant.</p> - -<p>The magnetism for which the veteran Prime Minister was notorious, the -magnetism which he seemed to be able to invoke at will, had not failed -him, whilst he talked. For the time being, he had completely dominated -the King. But now, the King's own personality reasserted itself, with -all the force of a recoil.</p> - -<p>A bitter realization of his own impotence, of his own insignificance, -was the King's first personal thought.</p> - -<p>It was to be as he had feared, as he had always known, it would be.</p> - -<p>The battle was joined, the fight for his place in the procession was -about to begin, in the market-place, and he, the man most concerned, -was the one man who could not take a side.</p> - -<p>The Duke had gone out of his way to emphasize that fact.</p> - - - -<p>"I attach the very greatest importance to the preservation of your -absolute neutrality in the present crisis, sir."</p> - -<p>Neutrality! The most contemptible part a live man could play.</p> - -<p>"Fight for your place in the procession, Alfred."</p> - -<p>He was not to be allowed to fight.</p> - -<p>The decision whether he should fight for his place, step to one side, -or fall out, altogether, to the rear, had been taken out of his hands.</p> - -<p>The desire for self-assertion, for self-expression, which he had felt, -so strongly, only an hour or two previously, flamed up, hotly, anew, -within the King. An unwilling King, a half-hearted King, he might be; -but to be a nonentity, a man of no account—</p> - -<p>The very workman, the individual workman, who—in less than an hour -now—as the clock struck twelve, would lay down his tools, put on his -coat, and leave his work, was of more account than he was!</p> - -<p>Ignorant, and deceived, as he might be, the individual workman, in -striking, would be asserting himself, expressing himself.</p> - -<p>And he?</p> - -<p>He could not even strike!</p> - -<p>If only he could have gone on strike!</p> - - - -<p>The fantastic idea caught the King's fevered fancy. It was in tune with -the bitter, wilful, rebellious mood which had swept over him. He could -not resist the temptation of giving it ironic expression.</p> - -<p>"It seems to me, if there is one man, in the whole country, who would -be justified in striking, in leaving his work, I am that man!" he -exclaimed. "I never wanted, I never expected to have to fill—my -present command. To be 'a sailor, not a Prince,' was always my idea. Do -people, do these people, who are coming out on strike, and hope to run -up the Red Flag, imagine that I get any pleasure, that I get anything -but weariness, out of—my place in the procession? If I followed my own -wishes now—I should strike, too! I should be the reddest revolutionary -of them all. Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity is their war cry, isn't -it? Those are the very things I want!"</p> - -<p>The Duke smiled grimly.</p> - -<p>"Where will you remove the Court, sir?" he asked. "To Windsor? Or to -Sandringham?"</p> - -<p>The King began to drum, impatiently, with his fingers, on the window -pane.</p> - -<p>The Duke's pointed impenetrability, his persistence, irritated him, at -the moment, almost beyond his endurance.</p> - - - -<p>Of course he would have to do as the Duke wished. The Duke was -the lightning conductor. He would have to fall in with the Duke's -suggestions. His suggestions? His orders! And yet—</p> - -<p>Windsor? Sandringham?</p> - -<p>Windsor and Sandringham were merely alternative cells in the same -intolerable prison house!</p> - -<p>Perhaps it was the blithe whistling of the thrush perched on the -tree near the windows; perhaps it was the sunlit peace of the -palace garden—whatever the cause, the King thought, suddenly, and -irrelevantly, of Paradise.</p> - -<p>And then the irrelevance of his thought disappeared.</p> - -<p>A man was talking beside him.</p> - -<p>It was not the Duke.</p> - -<p>It was Uncle Bond.</p> - -<p>"Whether you fight for your place or not, whether you come out at the -head, or the tail, of the procession, wherever the head and the tail -may be, whether you step to one side, or fall out altogether, whatever -happens to you, my boy, Judith and I, will always be glad to welcome -you to the inn at the corner, and give you a seat at our window. You -will remember that!"</p> - -<p>A thrill of exultation ran through the King.</p> - -<p>Here, surely, was an opening, an opportunity, for the self-assertion, -the self-expression, which he so ardently desired!</p> - -<p>Where should he go, now that the time had come for him to step out of -the procession, but into Paradise, to Judith and to Uncle Bond, to -stand beside them, at their window, in the old inn, at the corner of -the market-place, the old inn, on the signboard of which was written in -letters of gold "Content"?</p> - -<p>If he must seek a rural retreat, an asylum, a city of refuge, what -better retreat could he have than Judith's and Uncle Bond's oasis, in -Paradise, where no strangers ever came?</p> - -<p>In this matter, at any rate, he could assert himself.</p> - -<p>In this matter, at any rate, he would have his own way.</p> - -<p>Swinging round from the windows, he fronted the Duke, flushed with -excitement wholly defiant.</p> - -<p>"I will leave the palace, at once, as you wish," he announced. "I have -no alternative, of course. I recognize that. But I shall leave the -Court behind, too! Neither Windsor, nor Sandringham, attract me. I -begin to feel the need of—a holiday. I shall run out into the country. -I have—friends in the country."</p> - -<p>He laughed recklessly.</p> - -<p>"This is my way of going on strike!"</p> - -<p>An odd, dancing light, which almost suggested a suddenly awakened sense -of humour, shone, for a moment, in the Duke's luminous, piercing eyes.</p> - -<p>But he pursed up his lips doubtfully, "It is a private, incognito -visit, that you are suggesting, I take it, sir?" he remarked. "In -the present crisis, such a visit would involve—serious risks. But, -I am bound to confess, that it would not be without—compensating -advantages!" His grim smile returned. "No one would know where you -were. And your departure from the palace, which must not be delayed, -would attract little or no attention. If you left the Court behind -you, as you propose, you would merely take one or two members of the -household staff with you, I presume?"</p> - -<p>"I shall take nobody with me. I shall go by myself," the King declared.</p> - -<p>Yes. In this matter, at any rate, he would have his own way.</p> - - - -<p>The Duke shot one of his keen, searching glances at the King. Then he -swung round on his heel, and paced slowly down the whole length of the -library.</p> - -<p>The King watched him, fascinated, curious, exalted.</p> - -<p>At the far end of the room, the Duke paused, turned, and retraced his -steps.</p> - -<p>His first words, as he halted, once again, beside the writing table -absolutely took the King's breath away.</p> - -<p>"I shall offer no opposition whatever to your reckless little -excursion, sir," he said. "I surprise you, sir? I hoped to surprise -you! But this is no time, there is no time, for—explanations. Reckless -as your proposal is, the more I think about it, the more conscious -I become of its many advantages. But, with your permission, sir, I -will attach two conditions to your—holiday." Again he smiled grimly. -"In the first place, I must know where you are going, so that I can -communicate with you, at once, when the need arises. In the second -place I will ask you to honour me with an undertaking that you will -remain in your rural retreat, until I have communicated with you."</p> - -<p>The King could hardly believe his own ears. That the Duke should -accept, should even express a guarded approval of his rebellion—that -was what his reckless proposal amounted to!—was wholly unbelievable. -It could not be true!</p> - -<p>A sudden sense of unreality, the consciousness, which had been so -frequently with him, of late, here in the palace, that he was living in -a dream, a wild, grotesque, nightmare dream, swept over the King.</p> - -<p>Of all the unreal scenes in his dream, this surely, was the most unreal!</p> - -<p>He had expected opposition, and argument. What he had wanted, he -realized now, was opposition and argument—</p> - -<p>But he had gone too far to withdraw. And he had no wish to withdraw. At -any rate he would see Judith. He would see Uncle Bond. He would be—in -Paradise—</p> - -<p>Without speaking, words at the moment, were quite beyond him, the King -drew up his revolving chair to the writing table, once again, and sat -down. Picking up the sheet of note-paper on which he had begun to write -to his sister—how long ago that seemed!—he tore off the unused half -of the paper, crumpling the other half up in his hand. Then he found -his pen, and wrote—</p> - - - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"James Bond Esq.,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Mymm's Manor,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">Mymm's Valley,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 3.5em;">Mymms,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 4.5em;">Hertfordshire."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Turning in his chair, he handed the half sheet of paper to the Duke.</p> - -<p>"That will be my address. I shall stay there," he said.</p> - -<p>The Duke glanced at the paper, and then folded it up neatly, and -slipped it into his pocket.</p> - -<p>"You have no time to lose, sir," he said. "It is already nearly half -past eleven. Within half an hour, just before noon, all civilian -traffic, in and out of London, will cease. The police, and the military -will be in control in the streets. Barriers will be erected on all the -roads. Only Government traffic will be allowed to pass. You have time -to get away, but only just time."</p> - -<p>The King sprang up to his feet, and darted across the room. He was, all -at once, wild to get away, wild to get away from the Duke, from the -palace, from himself, from this unreal, grotesque, nightmare life of -his—</p> - -<p>But, half way across the room, he paused, and swung round, and faced -the Duke yet once again.</p> - -<p>A sudden, belated twinge of compunction, a whisper of the conscience -which he had all this time been defying, had impelled him to think of -the Duke.</p> - -<p>"Am I letting you down, Duke?" he exclaimed impulsively. "After—all -you have done for me—I wouldn't let you down for worlds!"</p> - -<p>A smile, in which there was no trace of grimness, lit up the old Duke's -rugged, massive features.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, sir," he said. "You are not letting me down, sir. You can -enjoy your—reckless little excursion—with an easy mind. But I did not -like, and I do not like, your use of that ill-omened word 'strike,' -sir,—even in jest! Remembering the language of the Service, in which, -like you, I had the honour to be trained, I prefer to say that you -are—proceeding on short leave of absence, shall we say, sir? It will -only be a short leave of absence, sir. Twenty-four, or forty-eight, -hours, at the most. You will do well, I think, sir, to remember that!"</p> - -<p>Incredible as the whole scene was, there could be no doubt about the -old statesman's entire sincerity. The King's last fear, his last -scruple fell from him. In his relief he laughed aloud, lightheartedly.</p> - -<p>"Call it whatever you like, Duke," he exclaimed. "But, for me, it -is—my way of going on strike!"</p> - -<p>And with that, he turned, and darted out of the room.</p> - -<p>Left alone, the Duke remained motionless, for a minute or two. The -smile, which the King's impulsive ingenuousness had evoked, still -lingered on his lips; but his piercing eyes were clouded now, and heavy -with thought.</p> - -<p>Suddenly he turned to the writing table, and, picking up the telephone -instrument, took down the receiver.</p> - -<p>The whole manner of the man changed with this decisive little action.</p> - -<p>There was a curt, commanding, masterful ring in his sonorous voice, as -he gave his directions to the operator at the palace exchange.</p> - -<p>"The Duke of Northborough is speaking. I want Scotland Yard, and the -War Office, at once, in that order. You will give me 'priority.' Shut -out all other calls."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER X</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/a.jpg" alt="pic" /></span> <span class="uppercase"> feeling</span> of light-hearted holiday irresponsibility, such as he had not -known for months, for years as it seemed to him, was with the King as -he darted out of the library. He raced along the palace corridors like -a schoolboy released from school. The palm and orange tree decorated -lounge, half vestibule, and half conservatory, from which ran the -private staircase leading up to his own suite of rooms, was his first -objective. He had intended to make a wild dash up to his rooms to -secure some sort of hat, and the dust coat, in which he usually escaped -from the palace. Happily, now, as he entered the lounge, his eyes were -caught by a tweed cap, which he wore sometimes in the garden, which -was lying on a side table, where he had tossed it, a day or two ago. -Laughing triumphantly, he picked up this cap, and crammed it down on -to his head. Then he darted out of the lounge, through the open glass -door, into the garden.</p> - - - -<p>In the garden, the air was heavy with the rich scents of the blossoming -shrubs and flowers. The brilliant morning sunshine struck the King, -as he hurried along the paths, with almost a tropical force. In spite -of the heat, as soon as he was sure that he was securely screened -by the shrubberies, he broke, once again, into a run. Lighthearted, -and irresponsible, as his mood was, he was conscious of the need for -haste. His running soon brought him, flushed, and panting a little, -but in no real distress, to the small, green painted, wooden door, in -the boundary wall, at the far end of the garden. Hurriedly producing -his keys, he unlocked the door, and swung it open. A moment later, as -the door, operated by its spring, closed behind him, he stood on the -pavement of Lower Grosvenor Place.</p> - -<p>Lower Grosvenor Place, as usual, was almost deserted. One or two chance -pedestrians were moving along the pavement. Immersed in their own -dreams and cares, they paid no attention whatever to the King. Higher -up the sunlit street, a grizzled, battered looking old Scotchman, -in tawdry Highland costume, was producing a dismal, droning wail on -bagpipes, in front of one of the largest of the tall houses, in the -hope, no doubt, that he would be given "hush money," and sent away, -before the arrival of life's inevitable policeman.</p> - -<p>After a quick glance up, and then down, the street, the King darted -across the road, turned into the familiar cul-de-sac on the other side, -and so passed into the secluded, shut-in mews at the back of the tall -houses.</p> - -<p>No one was visible in the mews, as the King unlocked, and opened, the -doors of Geoffrey Blunt's garage. A minute or two sufficed for him to -run out the car. Flinging on the thick, leather coat, and adjusting the -goggles, which lay ready to his hand, where he had tossed them that -morning, he re-locked the garage doors. Then he sprang up into his seat -at the steering wheel of the car, and started the engine.</p> - -<p>For one anxious moment, he feared that the engine was going to fail -him; but, next moment, it settled sweetly to its work, and the car shot -forward, out of the secluded mews, up the quiet, side street beyond, -and so into Grosvenor Place.</p> - -<p>In Grosvenor Place, the chance pedestrians who had been moving along -the sunlit pavement had passed on, out of sight, still immersed, no -doubt, in their own dreams and cares. The grizzled, battered looking -old Scotchman, in Highland costume, had just succeeded, apparently, -in extorting his "hush money." With his bagpipes tucked under his arm, -he was swaggering along now, in the centre of the road, his ruddy, -weatherbeaten, wrinkled face wreathed in smiles.</p> - -<p>The car caught up, and passed the triumphant old blackmailer in a cloud -of dust.</p> - -<p>A moment later, as he approached Hyde Park Corner, the King decided to -vary the route which he usually followed. With this end in view, he -swung the car sharply to the right, down Constitution Hill. At this -hour of the day, it occurred to him, Park Lane and Oxford Street, -his usual route, would be crowded with traffic. By running down -Constitution Hill, and out into, and along, the Mall he would probably -secure an open road, and so save several minutes. And every minute he -could save now, might be of vital importance later.</p> - -<p>The car had a clear run down Constitution Hill. In the Mall, the -Coronation flags still hung, flaunting and gay in the sunlight. The -stands, on either side of the road, from which the guests of the -Government had viewed the Coronation procession, the day before, were, -too, still in position. The Office of Works, at the moment, no doubt, -had far more important, and urgent enterprises on hand, than the -removal of flags, and the dismantling of stands.</p> - -<p>Sweeping along the Mall, and under the lavishly decorated Admiralty -Arch, the car ran out into Trafalgar Square, without a check. But here, -almost at once, the King had to pull up abruptly. The policeman, on -point duty, at the top of Whitehall, had his arm held out against all -eastbound traffic. Irritated by, and chafing under, the delay, the King -was compelled to apply his brakes, and run the car into position, in -the long queue of waiting vehicles, which had already gathered behind -the policeman's all powerful arm.</p> - -<p>A moment later, looking up from his brakes, as the car came to a -standstill, he became aware that he had pulled up immediately beneath -the equestrian statue of Charles the First.</p> - -<p>Here was an odd, an amusing—a superstitious man might even have said -an ominous—coincidence.</p> - -<p>Had not the storm which was about to break, broken before, long ago, in -this man's reign?</p> - -<p>And had not this man been engulfed by the storm?</p> - - - -<p>The King looked up at the statue with a sudden flash of quickened, -sober interest.</p> - -<p>Had not this man, alone, amongst all his predecessors been compelled to -drain the poisonous cup of revolution to the very dregs?</p> - -<p>There had been no lightning conductor, no Duke of Northborough, no -strong man, sure of himself, and of his purpose, ready, and eager, to -take the full shock of the lightning flash, in this man's day.</p> - -<p>But there had been. The Earl of Strafford. And Charles—Charles the -Martyr, did not some people still call him?—had torn his lightning -conductor down with his own hands. He had failed Strafford. He had -abandoned him to his enemies. With his own hand, he had signed -Strafford's, and so, in a sense, his own, death warrant.</p> - -<p>And he, himself—if this was an omen?</p> - -<p>He had not failed the Duke anyway. The Duke had assured him that he was -not letting him down. If he believed, for a moment, that he was failing -the Duke, he would turn round, even now, and go straight back to the -palace.</p> - -<p>But the Duke needed no man's support.</p> - -<p>There, at any rate, this man, fixed there, high above him, on -horseback, in imperishable bronze, against the clear blue of the -summer sky, had been more fortunate than he was. This man had never -known the bitterness of neutrality, of personal impotence, of personal -insignificance. This man had had a part to play, and he had played it, -not unhandsomely, at the last, they said. There was a jingle of some -sort about it—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"He nothing common did or mean</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Upon that memorable scene."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Nothing common or mean? Not at the last, perhaps. But, before the last, -in his failure of Strafford?</p> - -<p>Still, limited, narrow, and bigoted, as he was, this man had lived, and -died, for the faith that was in him.</p> - -<p>It had never occurred to him that he could go on strike.</p> - -<p>He had stood for, he had fought for, he had died for—the Divine Right -of Kings!</p> - -<p>The Divine Right of Kings?</p> - -<p>How grotesquely absurd the phrase sounded now!</p> - -<p>But was it any more grotesquely absurd than the opposition, the -counter-phrases, in praise of democracy, of the mob?</p> - -<p>The voice of the people is the voice of God.</p> - - -<p>The same grotesque bigotry, the same fanatical intolerance, spoke there.</p> - -<p>Happily people were growing chary of using such phrases. They had been -too often used as a cloak to hide personal prejudices and passions, to -be trusted much longer.</p> - -<p>Still, perhaps, the band <i>was</i> playing—somewhere—</p> - -<p>At that moment, the King suddenly realized that the driver of the -taxi-cab, immediately behind him, in the queue of waiting traffic, was -performing a strident obligato on his motor horn, which indicated, -unmistakably, the violence of despair. Looking down with a start, he -became aware, that unnoticed by him in his reverie, the block in the -traffic had cleared, that the road lay open before him, and that he -was holding up the long line of vehicles behind him, by his absence of -mind, and consequent delay.</p> - -<p>The policeman on point duty smiled at him, reproachfully, as he -succeeded, at last, in catching his eye, and then waved him forward.</p> - -<p>Flushing with momentary annoyance, at the absurdity of his position, -the King hastily let out the car once again.</p> - -<p>The car leapt forward, swept round the square, and so passed into, and -up, Charing Cross Road, into Tottenham Court Road beyond—</p> - -<p>The car was heading due north now, due north for Paradise—</p> - -<p>The King's thoughts turned naturally and inevitably to Judith, and to -Uncle Bond.</p> - -<p>A difficult, and delicate problem, at once faced him.</p> - -<p>What was he to say to Judith, and to Uncle Bond? How was he to explain -to them his unprecedentedly early, his almost immediate, return to -their quiet haven?</p> - -<p>But that, he suddenly realized, with a shock, only touched the fringe -of his problem!</p> - -<p>Sooner or later, even in their peaceful retreat, Judith and Uncle Bond -would hear that the storm had broken. They would hear that Martial Law -had been proclaimed. Knowing that, they would know, Judith with her -knowledge of the Navy would know, that his place, as a sailor, was with -his ship. And that was not all. Had he not given their address to the -Duke? The Duke would be communicating with him—</p> - -<p>His real identity would be revealed to Judith, and to Uncle Bond, at -last!</p> - -<p>His incognito would no longer serve him!</p> - -<p>Somehow, it had never occurred to him, at the time, what his giving of -their address to the Duke involved. Not only would his real identity be -revealed at last. His intimacy with Judith, and Uncle Bond would be no -longer a secret. The Duke had Uncle Bond's address. The Duke would soon -know all that there was to be known about Uncle Bond—about Judith—</p> - -<p>Yes. He would have to tell Judith, and Uncle Bond, who he was, at once, -before they learnt who he was, from other lips than his.</p> - -<p>Without knowing it, he had burnt his boats; unwittingly, he had forced -his own hand.</p> - -<p>Would Judith and Uncle Bond believe him? Would they resent his -deception? Would the shadow thrown by his Royal rank mar the delightful -spontaneity of their intercourse, as he had always feared it would? It -could not be helped now, if it did! But, it seemed to him, that it need -not, that it should not. The unwavering friendship, of which Uncle Bond -had assured him, only that morning, would surely bear the strain? He -would take Uncle Bond at his word.</p> - -<p>"I have stepped out of my place in the procession, and come to join -you at your window, here in the quiet old inn of 'Content.' I want to -forget the fight in the market-place. Help me to forget it! Let us -forget the past, avoid looking at the future—what the future will -bring who can say?—and live, for the time being, in the present."</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond, and Judith—their astonishment at his real identity once -over, and their astonishment would be amusing!—would not refuse such -an appeal.</p> - -<p>After all, had it not always been their way, in Paradise, to live in -the present?</p> - -<p>Judith and he, at any rate, had always lived in the present.</p> - -<p>Judith! What would she think? What would she say? She would understand -his hesitation, his backwardness, his—apparent halfheartedness—now! -She would be generous. Judith? Judith would not fail him—</p> - -<p>By this time, the car was running through one of the more popular -shopping districts in the inner suburbs. The shops on either side -of the sunlit road, were still gaily decorated. The pavements were -crowded. In the road, there was a good deal of traffic about, and the -King had to drive, for the time being, more circumspectly. The stalls -of an open air market provided an exasperating obstruction. Ultimately -he had to pull up, and wait for an opening. This necessity served to -recall him completely to his immediate surroundings. It was then, -while he waited, chafing with impatience at the delay, that he first -became aware that the police were abroad in unusual numbers.</p> - -<p>Impassive, and motionless, the police stood, in little groups, here -and there, in the crowd. The distance between one group, and the next -group, of the burly, blue uniformed men seemed to have been carefully -regulated.</p> - -<p>A sudden thrill of fear, which was not far removed from panic, ran -through the King.</p> - -<p>Were the police concentrating already in accordance with their secret -orders?</p> - -<p>It looked very much like it.</p> - -<p>He glanced hastily at his watch.</p> - -<p>It was nearly a quarter to twelve.</p> - -<p>Where were the barriers, of which the old Duke had spoken, likely to be?</p> - -<p>Here, or, perhaps, even further out, on the outskirts of the town, -almost certainly.</p> - -<p>And he had still to make good his escape!</p> - -<p>Hitherto he had never doubted that he would make good his escape. Now, -with the police already concentrating, and taking up their position in -the streets, he could be no longer sure that he would get away, in time.</p> - -<p>Fortunately, at that moment, the road, at last, cleared. The King -hastily let out the car once again. Then he opened out the engine, -recklessly, to its fullest extent. This was no time for careful -driving. The powerfully engined car did not fail him at his need. -Sweeping clear of the traffic immediately in front, it was soon rushing -along the level surface of the tramway track which led on, out into the -outer suburbs.</p> - -<p>In the outer suburbs, the traffic was lighter, and the police were much -less in evidence. But a convoy of motor lorries, which he rushed past, -in which he caught a glimpse of soldiers in khaki service dress, added -fuel sufficient to the already flaming fire of the King's anxiety. At -any moment, it seemed to him now, he might be called upon to halt, and -compelled to return, if he was allowed to return, ignominiously, to the -palace.</p> - -<p>But the barrier, drawn right across the road, with its little groups -of attendant police, and military, which he could see, so vividly, in -his imagination, did not materialize. The throbbing car rushed on, -through the outer suburbs, on past the last clusters of decorous, -red-tiled villas, on through the area of market gardens, where the -town first meets, and mingles with the country, on the north side of -London, and so out, at last, on to the Great North Road, unchecked, -and unchallenged.</p> - -<p>The broad high road stretched ahead, empty and deserted, in the -brilliant noon sunshine, as far as eye could see.</p> - -<p>The car leapt at the road like a live thing—</p> - -<p>At last, the familiar, white-painted signpost, the Paradise-Hades post, -flashed into view on the left of the road.</p> - -<p>It was then, and not until then, that the King slowed down the car.</p> - -<p>A great wave of relief, which told him how tense his anxiety had been, -swept over him.</p> - -<p>He looked at his watch.</p> - -<p>It was some minutes past noon now.</p> - -<p>Already, behind him, in the town, the storm had broken. Already the -blow had fallen.</p> - -<p>But this was Paradise.</p> - -<p>He had escaped.</p> - -<p>He was safe.</p> - -<p>He was free.</p> - -<p>All about him lay the sunlit, peaceful countryside. The hedges, on -either side of the broad, winding road, were white with the blossoms of -the wild rose. Beyond the hedges, stretched the open fields, a vivid, -but restful, green in the bright noon light, broken, here and there, -by clumps of tall trees, and rising, in a gradual, gracious curve to -thickly wooded heights on the skyline.</p> - -<p>A few cattle lay, motionless, on the grass, in the shade of the trees.</p> - -<p>A young foal, startled by the passing of the car, scrambled up on to -his long legs, and fled, across the fields, followed, more sedately, by -his heavy, clumsy, patient mother.</p> - -<p>One or two rabbits scuttled into the hedge, with a flash of their white -bob-tails.</p> - -<p>High up, clear cut against the cloudless blue of the sky, a kestrel -hovered.</p> - -<p>Yes. This was Paradise, unchanged, unchanging—</p> - -<p>Soon the familiar turning into the narrow, tree shadowed lane, on the -left of the road came into view. Swinging into the lane, the King -slowed down the car yet once again, partly from habit, and partly -because of his enjoyment of the summer beauty all about him.</p> - -<p>He had plenty of time now.</p> - -<p>He laughed recklessly at the thought.</p> - -<p>He had all the time there was!</p> - -<p>Was he not—on strike—taking a holiday?</p> - -<p>At the house, at the bottom of the lane, the carriage gate, as usual, -stood wide open.</p> - - - -<p>The King drove straight up the drive, where the rhododendron bushes, -and the laburnum trees were ablaze with colour, and, round the side of -the house, into the garage.</p> - -<p>No one was visible in the garden, about the house, or in the -outbuildings beyond.</p> - -<p>In the silence which followed his shutting off of the engine of the -car, he heard the whir of haycutting machines.</p> - -<p>They were haymaking, of course.</p> - -<p>Judith herself, who, far more than Uncle Bond, was really responsible -for the management of the Home Farm, would be at work in the fields, -holding her own with the best of them, in spite of the clamorous -demands of the Imps for play.</p> - -<p>If Judith, and the Imps had been in the house, they would have run out -to welcome him by now.</p> - -<p>Flinging off his leather coat, his cap, and his goggles, the King -tossed them, one after the other, into the car. Then he sauntered round -the side of the house, to the front door.</p> - -<p>All the doors, and windows in the house stood wide open.</p> - -<p>No one appeared to receive him.</p> - -<p>For a moment or two the King lingered, irresolutely, on the verandah -beside the front door.</p> - -<p>What should he do? In all probability, the whole household were at work -in the hayfields. Should he go and find them there? No. Judith would -be astonished to see him. She might betray her astonishment. In the -circumstances it would be as well that his meeting with Judith should -have as few eye-witnesses as possible.</p> - -<p>But Uncle Bond would be in. Had he not declared that "Cynthia" would be -good for five or six thousand words that day? The little man would be -upstairs, hard at work, in his big, many-windowed writing room. Dare he -break in upon Uncle Bond's jealously guarded literary seclusion? It was -a thing which he had never ventured to do. It was a thing which Judith -herself rarely cared to do. But, after all, this was an exceptional -day, if ever there was an exceptional day! Now that he came to think -about it, it would be a good thing if he could see Uncle Bond, in his -capacity of "heavy father," before he saw Judith. Strictly speaking was -it not to Uncle Bond, as his host, that his announcement of his real -identity, and his explanations, and his apologies were first due?</p> - - - -<p>With a sudden flash of determination, in which a semi-humorous, boyish -desire to face the music, and get it over, played a large part, the -King entered the house.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XI</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/w.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">ithin</span> the sunny, airy house there was absolute silence, and perfect -stillness. The King crossed the broad, square hall, a pleasant retreat, -with its gaily coloured chintz covered chairs, and ottoman, its piano, -its bookcases, and its big blue bowls, full of roses, and passed -straight up the glistening white staircase, which led to Uncle Bond's -quarters on the upper floor. At the head of the staircase, he turned -to his left, down a short corridor, in which stood the door of Uncle -Bond's writing room. On reaching the door, he paused, for a moment or -two, very much as a swimmer pauses, on the high diving board, before he -plunges into the deep end of the swimming bath. Then, smiling a little -at his own nervous tremors, he knocked at the door, and, opening it -without waiting for any reply, entered the room.</p> - -<p>The writing room in which Uncle Bond spent his working hours extended -along the whole breadth of the house. One side of the room, the side -directly opposite to the door, was almost entirely made up of windows, -which commanded an uninterrupted view of the garden, and beyond the -garden, of a superb sweep of the surrounding, thickly wooded, park-like -country. The three other sides of the room were covered with a plain, -grey paper, and were bare of all ornament. No pictures, no bookcases, -and no pieces of bric-à -brac were displayed in the room. This complete -absence of decoration gave a conspicuous, and most unusual, suggestion -of emptiness to the whole interior. None the less, with many of the -windows wide open, and with the brilliant, summer sunshine streaming in -through them, the room had a charm, as well as a character of its own. -Above all else, it was a man's room. There was space in which to move -about. There was light. And there was air.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond was seated, at the moment the King entered, at a large -writing table, which stood in the centre of the room, with his back to -the door, busy writing.</p> - -<p>The King closed the door quietly behind him, and then halted, just -inside the room, and waited, as he had seen Judith do in similar -circumstances.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond did not look round but went on writing.</p> - - - -<p>Clearly a sentence, or a paragraph, had to be finished.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond's writing table was bare and empty like the room in which -it stood. The blotting pad on which the little man was writing, a neat -pile of completed manuscript on his left, and a packet, from which he -drew a fresh supply of paper as he required it, which lay on his right, -were the only objects visible on the table. No paraphernalia of pen and -ink was in evidence. Uncle Bond worked in pencil. No inkstand, or pen, -invented by the wit of man, could satisfy him.</p> - -<p>A small table, in the far corner of the room, on the right, on which -stood a typewriter, an instrument of torture which the little man -loathed, and rarely used, a large sofa, placed under, and parallel -with, the windows, and another table, on the left, which appeared to -be laid for a meal, with two or three uncompromisingly straight backed -chairs, completed the furnishing of the room.</p> - -<p>This was a workshop: a workshop from which all the machinery and tools -had been removed.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond wrote swiftly. He had a trick of stabbing at the paper in -front of him, with his pencil, periodically, which puzzled the King. -Ultimately it dawned upon him that this was probably merely Uncle -Bond's method of dotting his i's, crossing his t's, and putting in his -stops. This supposition appeared to be confirmed, presently, when, with -a more energetic stab than usual which marked, no doubt, a final full -stop, the little man finished writing.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond wore, when at work, a pair of large, tortoiseshell framed -spectacles, which gave a grotesque air of gravity to his round, double -chinned, clean-shaven face. He turned now in his chair, and looked at -the King, for a moment, over the rims of these spectacles. Then he -sprang up to his feet, snatched off his spectacles, and darted across -the room to the table on the left, which appeared to be laid for a meal.</p> - -<p>"A whole chicken—cold! A salad. A sweet, indescribable, but -glutinous, pink, and iced. We shall manage," the little man crowed, -as he uncovered a number of dishes on the table, and peered at their -contents. "My dear boy, I am delighted to see you. For the last half -hour, I have been thinking about lunch, but I disliked the idea of -feeding alone. I am, as you have probably already discovered, by -myself in the house. Judith and the Imps are picnicking in the hay -fields. The servants are all in the fields. Judith hopes to cut, and -cart, the Valley fields today. 'Cynthia' and I have had the house to -ourselves all morning. We have achieved wonders. I told you 'Cynthia' -would function today, didn't I? She is at the top of her form. We are -already level with the time-table, and she is still in play. But we -shall need some more knives and forks, a plate or two, and a bottle—a -bottle decidedly! A light, sparkling, golden wine. A long necked bottle -with the right label. I will go downstairs, and forage. You haven't had -lunch, I suppose?"</p> - -<p>The King smiled, in spite of himself.</p> - -<p>This was not the reception that he had anticipated.</p> - -<p>"No. I have not had lunch, Uncle Bond," he admitted.</p> - -<p>"Good!" the little man chuckled. "You must be hungry. I am. And you -look tired. You can pull the table out, and find a couple of chairs, -while I am away, if you like. Glasses—and a corkscrew!"</p> - -<p>He moved, as he spoke, towards the door.</p> - -<p>But, by the door, he paused.</p> - -<p>"By the way, Alfred, there is a book on the window sill, beside the -sofa, which may interest you," he remarked.</p> - -<p>Then he darted out of the room—</p> - -<p>Mechanically, the King crossed the room to the luncheon table.</p> - -<p>The table was most attractively arranged. No doubt Judith herself had -seen to Uncle Bond's meal, before she had left the house, with the -Imps, for the hayfields. A bowl of Uncle Bond's favourite roses, in the -centre of the table, seemed to speak of Judith's thoughtfulness, and -taste. No servant would have laid the table quite like this.</p> - -<p>Beyond pulling the table out into the room, nearer to the windows, and -placing a couple of chairs in position beside it, there was really -nothing that he could do in preparation for the meal, pending Uncle -Bond's return with the additional knives and forks, and plates which -would be necessary.</p> - -<p>A minute or two sufficed for this readjustment of the furniture.</p> - -<p>Then the King turned to the windows, attracted by the sunlight, and the -fresh air.</p> - -<p>How easily, and naturally things—happened—here in Paradise!</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond had accepted his unprecedentedly early, his almost -immediate return, without question, or comment.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond, and Judith, always accepted him like that, of course.</p> - -<p>But, today, it seemed strange!</p> - -<p>The scene which he had visualized between Uncle Bond and himself had -not opened like this at all. He had meant to astonish Uncle Bond, at -the outset, by his disclosure of his real identity. He had looked -forward to astonishing Uncle Bond, he realized now, in spite of his -nervous tremors, with real enjoyment. It was he, and not Uncle Bond, -who was to have dominated this scene. He was like an actor whose big -scene had failed. Somehow he had missed his cue.</p> - -<p>One thing was certain. His announcement, his disclosure, of his real -identity must be no longer delayed. Somehow he could not bear to think -of accepting Uncle Bond's joyous hospitality, of eating his salt, -without first confessing his past deception, and receiving the little -man's forgiveness and absolution. It was odd that his conscience should -have become suddenly so sensitive in the matter. His feeling was quite -irrational, of course—</p> - -<p>But how was he to make his announcement? It was not the sort of thing -that could be blurted out anyhow. He would have to lead up to it -somehow.</p> - -<p>"I am, or rather I was, until twelve noon, today—the King! Now I -am—on strike—taking a holiday!"</p> - -<p>How wildly absurd it sounded!</p> - -<p>Such an announcement, however skilfully he led up to it, would carry -no conviction with it. Uncle Bond would not, could not be expected to -believe him.</p> - -<p>Somehow, here in Paradise, he hardly believed in it himself!</p> - -<p>The fact was his dual life, the two distinct parts which he had played -for so long, had become too much for him. Hitherto, he had been able -to keep the two parts, more or less distinct. Now he was trying to -play both parts at once. It was a mental, it was almost a physical, -impossibility.</p> - -<p>"Alfred," "my boy," the sailor who had just been given promotion, the -sailor who served the King, never had been, and never could be—the -King.</p> - -<p>He was a real man, alive, breathing, and thinking, at the moment, here, -in the sunlight, by the windows.</p> - -<p>The King whom the old Duke of Northborough addressed as "Sir," the King -who lived in the palace, guarded night and day by the soldiery and the -police, the King who had, at last, asserted himself recklessly, gone on -strike, taken a holiday—he was a mere delusion, a dream.</p> - -<p>But the real part, the better part, had now to be dropped.</p> - -<p>Fate, chance, circumstances over which he had had no control, had -decided that.</p> - -<p>Yes. "Alfred," "my boy," was gasping for life, taking a last look at -the green beauty of the sunlit, summer world, now, here at the windows—</p> - -<p>The King shook himself, impatiently, and turned from the windows.</p> - -<p>His position was trying enough, as it was, without his indulging in -imaginary morbidity!</p> - -<p>As he turned, his eyes were caught by an open book, which lay on the -window sill, beside the sofa, on his right.</p> - -<p>Had not Uncle Bond said something about a book, a book on the window -sill, beside the sofa, a book that might interest him? An uncommon book -that! He was no reading man, as Uncle Bond knew well. But it might be a -copy of the little man's latest shocker—</p> - -<p>Welcoming the distraction, the King advanced to the sofa, and picked up -the book.</p> - - - -<p>In the centre of the right-hand page of the open volume a couple of -sentences had been heavily scored in pencil.</p> - -<p>The King read these words—</p> - -<blockquote> - -<p>"Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has -been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried -it; and they cut the rope."</p></blockquote> - -<p>It was a moment or two before the King's brain registered the sense of -the words.</p> - -<p>He read the sentences a second time.</p> - -<p>Then he turned, mechanically, to the title page of the book—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"The French Revolution, a History.</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"by Thomas Carlyle."</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>Suddenly, with the open book still in his hand, the King sank down on -to the sofa.</p> - -<p>This could not be chance. This was not a coincidence. This was no -accident.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond had called his attention to the book—a book which might -interest him! It was Uncle Bond's pencil which had scored these -sentences, so apposite to his own position, so heavily. Uncle Bond -must have left the book, open at this page, on the window sill, -deliberately.</p> - - - -<p>The inference was unmistakable.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond knew who he was!</p> - -<p>And that was not all.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond must know something, at least, about the existing crisis!</p> - -<p>A storm of clamorous questions jostled each other in the King's brain.</p> - -<p>How did Uncle Bond know? How long had he known? And Judith—did Judith -know, too? Why had Uncle Bond chosen this particular moment, and this -particular way, to reveal his knowledge? Had the little man's uncanny, -unerring instinct told him that he himself was about to reveal his real -identity, at last?</p> - -<p>No. That was impossible.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond had marked the sentences, and placed the book on the window -sill, before he himself had entered the room.</p> - -<p>And he had had twinges of compunction, nervous tremors, about the -deception which he had practised.</p> - -<p>He laughed contemptuously at himself.</p> - -<p>Clearly, it was he himself, and not Uncle Bond, not Judith, who had -been deceived—</p> - -<p>At that moment, Uncle Bond's returning footsteps, in the corridor, -outside the room, became audible.</p> - - - -<p>Uncle Bond entered the room carrying a tray which was loaded with -silver, and cutlery, glasses and plates, and the longnecked bottle -which he had promised. He shot a shrewd glance at the King, as he -crossed the room to the luncheon table; but he set down his tray, on -the table, without speaking.</p> - -<p>For a moment, the King hesitated. Then he sprang up, impulsively, to -his feet, and advanced to the table. Holding out the open book, which -he had retained in his left hand, towards Uncle Bond, he tapped it with -his right forefinger.</p> - -<p>"You know who I am, Uncle Bond?" he challenged.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly.</p> - -<p>"I do," he acknowledged. "Get the cork out of that bottle, my boy. I've -got to carve the chicken."</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XII</p> - - -<p><span class="figleft"><img src="images/a.jpg" alt="pic" /></span> <span class="uppercase"> climax</span> is always a difficult business to handle," Uncle Bond -continued, sitting down at the table and beginning his attack on -the cold chicken. "It is easy enough to work up to. 'Cynthia' never -has any trouble in getting in the necessary punch at the end of -her instalments. But to carry on, after the punch, to get the next -instalment going—that is a very different affair. In nine cases out -of ten, that gives even 'Cynthia' herself a lot of trouble. My dear -boy, put down that admirable volume—it is in your left hand!—and, I -repeat myself, get the cork out of that bottle! I know you are quite -unconscious of the fact, but your attitude, at the moment, is most -distressingly wooden."</p> - -<p>The King came to himself with a start.</p> - -<p>"I beg your pardon, Uncle Bond," he stammered, blushing like a -schoolboy.</p> - -<p>Laying "The French Revolution, A History, by Thomas Carlyle," down -on the table, he picked up the longnecked bottle, and got to work, -hurriedly, with the corkscrew.</p> - -<p>He was, suddenly, very glad to have something to do.</p> - -<p>"Fortunately for us, my boy, you and I can control the development of -this scheme," Uncle Bond went on, busy with the carving knife and fork. -"It occurs to me, by the way, that I am destined to play the part of -general utility man in our—comedy. I can see no immediate opening for -the knockabout comedian. A touch of the heavy father may be possible -later on. But, meanwhile, explanations are necessary. Obviously that -involves the general utility man in the part of 'Chorus.' Strictly -speaking, I suppose I ought to address you in blank verse. I will spare -you that. One of the old dramatic conventions about the 'Chorus' it -seems to me, however, is likely to suit you. 'Chorus' enters solus. You -can leave the stage to me—"</p> - -<p>At that moment, the cork in the longnecked bottle came away, -unexpectedly, as is the habit of corks.</p> - -<p>The King filled the glasses on the table with the light, sparkling, -golden wine.</p> - -<p>"Good!" Uncle Bond crowed. "Now you can sit down, and—sink out into -the back-cloth. On the other hand, if you prefer to remain on the -stage, a glass of wine is useful stage business."</p> - -<p>The King sat down at the table opposite to Uncle Bond.</p> - -<p>At the moment, bewildered and almost dazed as he was, he felt very much -like a theatrical super, assisting at a stage meal.</p> - -<p>"I am giving you a wing, Alfred. No breast!" Uncle Bond continued, -proceeding to portion out the dismembered chicken. "My action is -symbolical. This is between ourselves, and outside our stage play! -There are not many places where they give you the wing of the chicken, -are there? You will continue to be given the wing of the chicken -here. You will continue to be received here, as you are received -nowhere else. Our friend Alfred will find no change, in his reception -here—whatever happens. You are reassured, I hope? Your worst fears -are stilled? Good! Help yourself to salad. And try the wine. I can -recommend it!"</p> - -<p>The King took the plate of chicken which the little man held out to -him, and helped himself to salad, mechanically. This commonplace -routine of the meal served to steady him. In some measure reassured -by Uncle Bond's whimsical symbolism, he was relieved to find that he -could eat.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond helped himself from the salad bowl in turn, tried the wine, -and then settled down, happily, to the meal, which he had been so -unwilling to essay alone. But the play of his knife and fork, energetic -as it was, did not interfere, for long, with his talk.</p> - -<p>"And now to resume our comedy!" he chuckled, in a minute or two. -"Between ourselves, my boy, I am enjoying the present situation -enormously. But 'Chorus' explanations are necessary, and cannot wait. -Therefore— 'Enter Chorus!'</p> - -<p>"I have known who you were almost, if not quite, from the first, -Alfred. Judith knew you first, of course. Judith recognized you at -sight. My dear boy, how could you imagine that it could be otherwise? -Have you ever considered the possibilities of the case?</p> - -<p>"Judith was born in the Navy. For years she lived in the Navy. She -married into the Navy. Of course, she knew 'Our Sailor Prince.' As -likely as not his photograph has adorned her mantelpiece ever since the -far-away days when she was a romantic schoolgirl. 'Cynthia's' romantic -schoolgirls, at any rate, are always like that!</p> - - - -<p>"And I myself? Am I not a member of many clubs? 'Alfred York' was -hardly likely to be an impenetrable incognito with me, was it? Wherever -you go, too, although you are so strangely unconscious of the fact, you -carry about with you a historic face!</p> - -<p>"But, even if Judith and I had had no special knowledge, even if we had -been lacking in penetration, it seems to me that we must, infallibly, -have recognized you, sooner or later. Have you not been, in recent -months at least, the most bephotographed young man in Europe? I do not -suggest that the picture papers are Judith's, or my, favourite reading. -But we have a cook. Do you think that we could keep a cook, who can -cook, here, in the country, if we did not supply her with her daily -copy of the 'Looking-Glass'? Sooner or later, it seems to me, Judith -or I must have taken a surreptitious peep into the kitchen copy of the -'Looking-Glass,' and so seen, and recognized, our friend Alfred in the -pictured news of the day."</p> - -<p>At this point, the turmoil within the King, surprise, bewilderment, and -self-contempt, the latter predominating, became altogether too much for -him. He quite forgot the necessary silence of the stage super.</p> - - - -<p>"I feel a most unmitigated fool, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"Exit, Chorus!" Uncle Bond chuckled delightedly. "Slow music— Enter -the Hero of the Piece! You were about to say?"</p> - -<p>"I don't know what I was going to say," the King muttered -uncomfortably, with his eyes on his plate. "I know what I was going to -say before you—took the wind out of my sails. I was all ready with a -speech. I had two speeches ready."</p> - -<p>"It is a pity that they should be wasted," Uncle Bond remarked. "Get -them off your chest, my boy. They will probably serve more than one -useful purpose. Apart from anything else, they will give me a chance to -get on with my lunch. You have got rather ahead of me, I observe. Take -which ever comes first. The slow music dies away—the Hero of the Piece -speaks—"</p> - -<p>The King fingered his wineglass nervously. He wanted to put himself -right with Uncle Bond. He wanted to tell him that he had meant to -reveal his real identity himself, that he had meant to apologize for -the deception he had practised. He wanted to rehabilitate himself in -his own eyes.</p> - -<p>"I was going to tell you—who I am, myself, Uncle Bond," he began -lamely. "I was going to reveal my real identity at last. I was going to -apologize to you for my deception, and ask for your—absolution.</p> - -<p>"'I am, or rather was, until twelve noon today—the King! Now I am—on -strike—taking a holiday—' That was to have been my first speech!"</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond started, and shot a surprised glance at the King.</p> - -<p>Engrossed in his own thoughts, and still fingering his wineglass -nervously, the King did not notice the little man's movement.</p> - -<p>"I hardly expected you to believe me. I did not see how you could -possibly believe me," he went on. "I counted on astonishing -you—astonishing you!—and Judith. I looked forward to astonishing -you." He laughed contemptuously at himself. "I thought that your -astonishment would be amusing. This was to have been my scene, not -yours. That is partly why—I feel such a fool!"</p> - -<p>He was silent for a moment or two.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond made no comment, but plied his knife and fork vigorously.</p> - -<p>"When you believed me, when you had recovered from your astonishment, -and had forgiven my deception—I knew you—and Judith—would forgive -me," the King continued, "I was going to make my second speech. You -remember our talk, this morning, about the procession? That seems years -ago, now, somehow, doesn't it? In my second speech, I was going to take -you at your word about—the procession.</p> - -<p>"'I have stepped out of my place in the procession, and come to join -you at your window, here, in the quiet old inn of "Content." I want -to forget the fight in the market-place. Help me to forget it! Let us -forget the past, avoid looking at the future—what the future will -bring, who can say?—and live for the time being in the present!' That -is what I was going to say. It seemed to me that you—and Judith—would -not be able to resist an appeal like that. Here, in Paradise, we have -always lived in the present, haven't we?"</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond put down his knife and fork.</p> - -<p>"Very pretty!" he chuckled. "I can understand your disappointment, my -boy. There was good stuff in your scene. I am glad we have contrived to -work in—both your speeches. They are—illuminating. More chicken? A -slice of the breast—now? No. Then advance the sweet. And refill the -glasses. You approve the wine? Good! Once again I resume my part of -'Chorus.'</p> - -<p>"As 'Chorus' allow me to recall your attention to Thomas Carlyle, my -boy," he went on, proceeding to serve the sweet. "I am rather proud of -that little bit of stage business. 'Cynthia' herself, I flatter myself, -could hardly have hit anything neater. How does the quotation run?</p> - -<p>"'Is it not strange so few Kings abdicate; and none yet heard of has -been known to commit suicide? Fritz the First, of Prussia, alone tried -it; and they cut the rope.'</p> - -<p>"It got you—that quotation, my boy,—didn't it? It was meant to get -you. I knew your announcement, your confession, would give you trouble. -Out of pure good nature—or was it malice?—I anticipated it."</p> - -<p>"But how did you know I was going to make my confession?" the King -exclaimed, suddenly remembering his previous bewilderment on the -subject.</p> - -<p>"Thank you, my boy," Uncle Bond chuckled. "I manÅ“uvred, clumsily I -fear, for that very question. There is, perhaps, something inherently -clumsy in this device of the 'Chorus.' Hence, no doubt, its banishment -from the modern stage. I did not know, I could not know, for certain, -that you would make your confession. But your confession seemed to me -to be inevitable. Or, if not inevitable, necessary. Perhaps I wished -to make sure of, as well as help you to, your confession. I must warn -you that I have another little surprise saved up for you, my boy. But I -will hurry to the end of my explanations. I do so the more readily as I -am eager to demand an explanation from you, in turn.</p> - -<p>"Paradise, although personally I am careful to suppress the fact as -much as possible, is on the telephone. Judith finds it necessary to -talk to the Stores! This morning, while 'Cynthia' and I were hard at -it, the telephone bell rang violently. The instrument, by the way, is -in the pantry. I ignored the summons. I hoped the girl at the Exchange -would soon grow weary. She persisted. In the end, 'Cynthia' retired -hurt, and I descended the staircase.</p> - -<p>"A wonderful instrument! Not the telephone. The human voice. There are -voices which rivet the attention at once—even on the telephone. This -was one of them—</p> - -<p>"'Northborough is speaking. Is that you Bond? Alfred York is -motoring down to see you. He is on his way now. You can put him up -for twenty-four, or forty-eight, hours, I suppose? If you get the -opportunity, you can tell him, when he arrives, that everything is -proceeding in accordance with plan.'"</p> - -<p>"You know the Duke of Northborough?" the King gasped.</p> - -<p>"Thanks to you, my boy, yes," Uncle Bond chuckled. "Note in passing, -that I—with the assistance of Thomas Carlyle—have created an -opportunity to tell you that—'everything is proceeding in accordance -with plan!' But we must really finish this sweet. No more for you? -Another glass of wine, then? You will find that the bottle will run to -it, although those long necks are deceptive."</p> - -<p>Mechanically, the King filled the wineglasses once again.</p> - -<p>For a minute or two, there was silence while Uncle Bond made short work -of the remnant of the sweet which the King had refused to share.</p> - -<p>This accomplished the little man leant back in his chair.</p> - -<p>"When Alfred York, the young and reckless sailor, whose friendship -Judith and I have learnt to value so highly in recent months, first -showed an unmistakable desire to establish an intimacy with us, I saw -no reason why I should—discourage his visits," Uncle Bond resumed -with a mischievous chuckle. "Who, and what, our friend Alfred might be -elsewhere, how he might fill in his—spare time—elsewhere, it seemed -to me—need be—no concern of ours. These were matters to which he -never referred. Judith and I might have our own ideas on the subject, -we might even have knowledge which he never suspected; but until he -spoke, it seemed to me, that there was—no necessity—for us to speak. -Our friend Alfred obviously valued the hospitality which we were so -glad to offer him. That was enough for us.</p> - -<p>"But things happen. The curse, and the charm, of human life in two -words—things happen!</p> - -<p>"When our friend Alfred suddenly became earmarked for—promotion—high -promotion—I had to admit to myself that the situation was, at once, -materially changed. So long as our friend Alfred was a person of -only—minor importance—his visits to us might, it seemed to me, fairly -be considered—merely his own affair, and ours. But when he became a -person of—the first importance—of the first importance in greater -issues than he appears, as yet, to have realized, his frequent visits -here involved me—in a grave responsibility, to which I could not shut -my eyes. A reckless young man, our friend Alfred. He did incredible -things. He took amazing risks. I had to reconsider the whole position. -I will not trouble you with an analysis of my conflicting motives. -Ultimately I took action. I wrote a letter.</p> - -<p>"It was plain James Bond who wrote that letter—just as it is plain -James Bond who is speaking at this moment. Somehow, he seems to have -lost sight of his part of 'Chorus'! 'Cynthia' did not contribute a -single phrase to the letter. It must have been a good letter, I think. -It had an immediate result. Within less than twenty-four hours it -brought a very busy, and distinguished man from town down here into our -quiet backwater to see us."</p> - -<p>"The Duke?" the King exclaimed.</p> - -<p>"The Duke," Uncle Bond acknowledged. "Let there be no mistake about my -position, at the outset, my boy. I am a partisan of the Duke!</p> - -<p>"The Duke and I had some talk, but he spent most of his time with -Judith, and the Imps. Judith—liked him. The Imps—took to him. We -gave him tea. When he left he was good enough to say that I had given -him a pleasure extremely rare in the experience of an old man. I had -introduced him to four new friends! He said other agreeable things. -But the most important thing he said, perhaps, was that, with certain -precautionary measures taken, which he himself would arrange, he saw no -reason why—the gates of Paradise should be shut on a younger, and more -fortunate visitor than himself.</p> - -<p>"My dear boy, I have always liked your reckless audacity. I sympathize -heartily with you in your distaste for police surveillance. But that -you should consistently give the police the slip, and career about -here, alone in your car, when the men responsible for your safety -believed that you were fast asleep, in bed, in town—in the present -state of the country, the risks, for you, for us, were altogether too -great. Think what our position would have been if anything had happened -to you! But for some time past, from the day of the Duke's visit to -us, those risks have been avoided. Scotland Yard have been on their -mettle. They have never lost sight of you. When I went downstairs, just -before lunch, I found half a dozen plain clothes men making themselves -comfortable in the kitchen. They have grown quite at home with us. And -today they tell me, special precautions are being taken. A battalion -of the Guards, I understand, is to put a picket line round the house. -My dear boy, restrain your impatience! You will not see them. The -police have strict orders never to intrude their presence upon you. The -military, I have no doubt, will have similar orders. From the first, -the Duke has been as anxious—as any of us—that you should continue to -enjoy the full benefits of your incognito, here, in Paradise.</p> - -<p>"And that brings me, having finished my own explanations, to the -explanation which I am so eager to demand from you, in turn, my -boy. How did the Duke contrive that you should come here, in the -present crisis—they told me downstairs that Martial Law has been -proclaimed!—without betraying the fact that he had been here himself?"</p> - -<p>All the King's senses had been numbed by the rapid succession of -surprises with which Uncle Bond had attacked him. His capacity for -wonder had long since been exhausted. It seemed to him now that -nothing would ever surprise him again. A feeling of utter helplessness -oppressed him. It seemed to him that he was in the grip, that he had -been made the plaything, of an implacable, an irresistible power. But -Uncle Bond's question served to arouse a momentary flash of his old -self-assertion within him. He had been deceived, he had been managed, -he had been fooled to the top of his bent—but, in this matter, at any -rate, he had asserted himself; in this matter, at any rate, he had had -his own way.</p> - -<p>"The Duke did not contrive that I should come here," he exclaimed. "I -chose to come here. It was—my way of going on strike."</p> - -<p>"You startled me by saying something like that before, my boy," Uncle -Bond remarked. "What do you mean, precisely, by—your way of going on -strike?"</p> - -<p>"The whole trouble is a strike. The Labour people have called a -universal, lightning strike from twelve noon, today," the King -explained impatiently. "The Duke says a little company of revolutionary -extremists are behind it all. They want to run up the Red Flag. I -told the Duke that if there was one man in the whole country who was -justified in striking, in leaving his work, it seemed to me, I was that -man. And I said I would come here. Coming here was my way of going on -strike."</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond leant forward in his chair.</p> - - - -<p>"Are you quite sure that the Duke did not contrive that you should come -here, my boy?" he persisted.</p> - -<p>A doubt was at once born in the King's mind. The Duke had offered no -opposition whatever to his reckless excursion. The Duke had accepted -his rebellion. The Duke had encouraged him to leave the palace—</p> - -<p>"The Duke wanted me to go to Windsor, or to Sandringham, in the first -place, I think. But—I daresay he was quite willing that I should come -here," he muttered.</p> - -<p>"In the circumstances, you could hardly have a quieter, a more -unexpected, and so, a safer, retreat," Uncle Bond remarked.</p> - -<p>Then he chuckled delightedly.</p> - -<p>"My Carlyle quotation was even more apposite than I realized, my -boy," he crowed. "It seems to me that you have done your best—to -commit suicide! But your experience will be similar to that of Fritz -the First, of Prussia. They will cut the rope. The Duke must be busy -cutting the rope now—</p> - -<p>"This strike will collapse, of course—quickly. It must have been an -unexpected move; a last desperate throw by the foreign agitators who -have failed to produce more serious trouble. Everybody, who is anybody, -has known, for months, that there was trouble brewing. All sorts of -wild rumours from the Continent have been current in the Clubs. But -an attempt at armed rebellion was the common idea. It has been talked -about so much that most people, I daresay, have ceased to take it too -seriously. They will be surprised. But the Duke would not be surprised. -Everything is proceeding in accordance with plan! Things have a way of -proceeding in accordance with plan, with the Duke—</p> - -<p>"What a story 'Cynthia' could make out of it all! 'The King Who Went -on Strike!' A good title for the bookstalls! But the best stories can -never be written—"</p> - -<p>Leaning back in his chair as he spoke, the little man turned away from -the luncheon table, and looked out through the open windows, on his -left, at the sunlit wooded landscape, beyond the garden.</p> - -<p>"It is strange, when you come to think of it, that you and I should be -sitting here, in peace and quietness, my boy, when there is uproar and -tumult, perhaps, when great events are shaping themselves, perhaps, -over there, beyond our wooded skyline," he murmured. "Does it not seem -strange—to you?"</p> - -<p>Mechanically the King swung round in his chair, and looked out, -through the windows, in turn—</p> - -<p>But the wooded skyline was not destined to hold his attention for long.</p> - -<p>Almost at once, his eyes were drawn away, to the sunlit garden below, -by a charming little interlude which was enacted there.</p> - -<p>Bareheaded, and dressed in white, suddenly, round the side of the -house, came Judith, slender and tall, her beautiful vivid face rosy -with the touch of the harvest sun. On her shoulder, skilfully supported -in her upstretched arms, sat Bill, with his eyes closed, nodding his -cherub's head, heavy with sleep. Beside her trotted Button, animated, -vivacious.</p> - -<p>Judith was smiling happily, as she crooned in a low, sweet voice some -lullaby.</p> - -<p>Button sang, too, more loudly.</p> - -<p>In Button's clear, young voice, the words of the song became audible in -the room—</p> - -<p> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"And does it not seem hard to you,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"When all the sky is clear and blue,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"And I should like so much to play,</span><br /> -<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">"To have to go bed by day?"</span><br /> -</p> - -<p>A moment later, tightening her hold on Bill, Judith stepped up on to -the verandah and, followed by Button, disappeared from view, into the -house.</p> - -<p>The King sprang up, and advanced to the windows.</p> - -<p>In a little while Judith reappeared, alone, in the garden.</p> - -<p>Somehow the King had known that she would reappear.</p> - -<p>The Imps had had to go to bed by day!</p> - -<p>Sauntering across the lawn, Judith headed for the belt of trees at the -far end of the garden.</p> - -<p>The King knew where she was going.</p> - -<p>Beyond the trees, in the furthest corner of the garden, stood a small -summer house, which commanded a magnificent view of the surrounding -landscape. For the sake of this view, the summer house was a favourite -retreat of Judith's.</p> - -<p>Judith disappeared, with a final flicker of her white dress, behind the -trees, at the far end of the garden.</p> - -<p>The King turned abruptly from the windows.</p> - -<p>He was going to Judith—</p> - -<p>And then—he remembered Uncle Bond.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond had risen to his feet, and had thrown a white cloth over the -luncheon table. He crossed the room now to his writing table, sat down -deliberately, and picked up his pencil.</p> - -<p>"You are going to join Judith, in the garden, my boy?" he remarked. -"That is right. Judith will be surprised—and glad—to see you. I -am about to revert to 'Cynthia.' I have only one thing more to say -to you—now. Thomas Carlyle! Do not forget in Judith's, or in your -own excitement, that they will—'cut the rope!' That is certain. You -cannot afford to forget that fact, in your dealings with any of us, my -boy—least of all can you afford to forget it, in your dealings with -Judith."</p> - -<p>The little man began to write.</p> - -<p>The King opened his lips to speak; thought better of it, and closed -them again; and then—hurried out of the room.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XIII</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">t</span> was an urgent, blind necessity that was laid upon him, rather -than any action of his own will, which had hurried the King out of -Uncle Bond's writing room. None the less, now, as he descended the -staircase in the silent house, crossed the hall, and so passed out into -the bright afternoon sunshine in the garden, he was not altogether -unconscious of the motives which were driving him, in this strange way, -to Judith. He wanted to see Judith alone. He wanted to talk to her. He -wanted to explain things to her. And, most of all, he wanted Judith to -explain—things which only she could explain—to him—</p> - -<p>A few minutes of rapid walking led him across the lawn, in amongst the -trees, at the far end of the garden. A narrow path ran, through the -trees, to the little clearing beyond, in which the summer house stood. -He followed this path.</p> - -<p>The green shade of the trees was welcome after the glare of the -sunlight on the lawn. A breeze rustled amongst the overhanging leaves. -Hidden away, somewhere, high up amongst the tree tops, a couple of jays -chattered raucously in the sultry stillness.</p> - -<p>In a minute or two, the King caught a glimpse, through the trees, of -the picturesque, crudely thatched roof of the summer house.</p> - -<p>A moment later, he saw Judith.</p> - -<p>Judith was sitting in a wicker work chair, at the entrance to the -summer house, with her hands lying idle, for once, on her lap, gazing -at the superb panorama of green fields, and wooded heights, which lay -spread out before her in the sunshine.</p> - -<p>So intent was her gaze, she did not hear the King's approach.</p> - -<p>The King halted, abruptly, on the edge of the clearing, and watched her.</p> - -<p>A smile flickered about Judith's lips. The play of thought across her -beautiful, vivid face reminded the King of the play of light and shade -across some sunny hillside. He had never seen Judith alone with her own -thoughts, like this, before. A kind of awe stole over him as he watched -her. And yet, he soon grew impatient, and jealous, of these thoughts of -Judith's, which he could not share.</p> - -<p>Stepping back, in under the trees, he trod, with intention, on a -broken branch which lay on the paths at his feet.</p> - -<p>The snapping of the branch served to recall Judith to her immediate -surroundings.</p> - -<p>She did not start. She turned her head, slowly; and saw him.</p> - -<p>The rosy flush which the harvest sun had put into her cheeks deepened. -Her dark, mysterious eyes lit up marvellously.</p> - -<p>"Alfred—you!" she cried. "I was just thinking about you. And I had no -idea you were so near!"</p> - -<p>A feeling of guilt oppressed the King. The shining happiness, the -radiant trust, of Judith's face smote him like a rebuke.</p> - -<p>Slowly, he advanced across the clearing, and halted beside her chair.</p> - -<p>What was it he wanted to say? What could he say?</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, words came to him.</p> - -<p>"You know—who I am," he said.</p> - -<p>Quite unconsciously, he used the same words which he had used with -Uncle Bond; but he used them now with a difference. With Uncle Bond the -words had been a challenge. To Judith, he offered them as an apology.</p> - -<p>A shadow obscured the radiance of Judith's face; but her glance did -not waver. It was as if she were meeting something for which she had -long been prepared.</p> - -<p>"I have always known," she acknowledged.</p> - -<p>A constraint that had no parallel in his experience held the King -silent for a long minute or two.</p> - -<p>At last he forced himself to speak.</p> - -<p>"I have been here—sometime," he began desperately. "I have -been—upstairs with Uncle Bond. I have just had lunch with him in his -room. Uncle Bond has explained—a good many things to me. I saw you -come here from the window. I followed you at once. I had to follow you. -I hardly know why. Was it because there are—things between us which -only you can explain?"</p> - -<p>He broke off there abruptly.</p> - -<p>Judith knew nothing of all that had happened, of course. Until she -knew—something of all that had happened—of what use was his talk? If -only he could tell her—something of what had happened—she might be -able to begin to understand the bewilderment, and turmoil, within his -overwrought, fevered brain. That she should be able to understand, that -she should be able to sympathize with him, had become, at the moment, -his paramount need.</p> - - - -<p>"Things have happened," he resumed desperately. "Things have happened -that you know nothing about, I think. Queer things are happening, over -there, at this moment!"</p> - -<p>He half turned from her, as he spoke, and pointed across the sunlit -landscape, at the distant, wooded horizon.</p> - -<p>"Martial Law has been proclaimed. The Labour people are making trouble. -They have called a universal strike. A few of them want to get rid of -me, and run up the Red Flag. They haven't a chance, of course. The Duke -is there. I know that you know the Duke! He was ready for them. He will -be glad, I think, that they have given him this chance to crush them. -Uncle Bond had a message from the Duke, waiting for me, when I arrived, -to say that everything was—'proceeding in accordance with plan.' His -plan!</p> - -<p>"The Duke wanted me to go to Windsor, or to Sandringham, to be out of -the way of possible trouble. I said I'd come here. I told him, that -it seemed to me, that if there was one man, in the whole country, who -would be justified in striking, in leaving his work, I was that man. -I told him that I'd go on strike too. Coming here was my way of going -on strike. I thought that I was asserting myself. I thought that I -was showing that I was a man. All the time I was simply playing into -the Duke's hands, of course. The Duke would be quite content that I -should come here, I think. He knows that I can't get into any mischief -here. He has seen to that! Uncle Bond tells me that there are half a -dozen plain clothes men in the kitchen. Did you know that? A battalion -of the Guards is to put a picket line round the house, too. At first -I—resented the Duke's arrangements. Now, somehow, I don't seem to -care—</p> - -<p>"So much has happened in the last twenty-four hours, I have been -through so much, I don't seem to have any will, any feeling, any -personality left. My own thoughts, my own words, my own actions seem -to me, now—like the disjointed pieces of a jig-saw puzzle, which -I shall never be able to put together again. I don't know—where I -am. I don't know—where I stand. I am all at sea. The bottom seems, -suddenly, to have dropped out of everything. I have been humoured, -managed, controlled, all through. I can see that. Now, I am—just like -a derelict ship. The rudder has gone. The charts are lost. I am being -driven, this way and that, at the mercy of—everybody's will, but my -own—</p> - - - -<p>"Somehow, you are my only hope. Somehow, I feel that you will -understand me—better than I understand myself. I suppose that that -means that I love you. You know that. And I know that you love me. -There can be no doubt about that, after last night. And yet, somehow, -even that doesn't excite me now. It doesn't seem to mean—what I -suppose it ought to mean—to me. Why doesn't it mean—more to me? I -am trying to tell you the truth, so far as I can see it. I am sick of -mystery. I am utterly weary of deceit. It seems to me, that—our only -hope is—plain speaking—"</p> - -<p>All this time, Judith had remained motionless, and quiescent, in her -chair. She turned, now, a little towards the King. Her expression was -grave, but friendly.</p> - -<p>"I want you to sit down, Alfred," she said quietly. "Find another -chair, and bring it out here. When you sit down, I will talk to you. I -want to talk to you."</p> - -<p>The King swung round into the summer house, and brought out another -chair. Placing it beside Judith's, he sat down. Then he fixed his eyes -upon her face.</p> - -<p>"I am glad that you have said, what you have said, Alfred," Judith -began. "I have wanted you to give me your confidence, the whole of -your confidence, for so long. I have always understood, I think, why -you have been silent—about so many things. But I wanted you—to trust -me. Now—you have trusted me—</p> - -<p>"I agree with you that the time has come for plain speaking. I am glad -that it has come. I will speak as plainly as I can."</p> - -<p>"First of all, you are not a derelict, Alfred. You are more like—a -ship that has not found herself. You know what happens on a trial trip? -The ship has not found herself. The Captain, and the crew, have got -to get to know her. She ships the sea. Bolts and plates stretch and -strain. Queer things happen in the engine room. And then, suddenly, all -in a moment, the ship finds herself, rights herself. You will be—like -that. Your trial trip has been run in a storm. You have been plunged, -at the start into hurricane weather. But you will find yourself, right -yourself. And, when your moment comes, you will sail the seas with any -craft afloat.</p> - -<p>"But that is—politics! And you, and I, are not really greatly -interested in politics, are we? What we are really interested in -is—ourselves—our own intimacy, our own relationship. When you say -that you don't know where you are, where you stand, what you mean, at -the back of your mind, is that you don't know where <i>we</i> are, and where -<i>we</i> stand. I will tell you where I stand. If I tell you where I stand, -you will be able to see—your own position. I will speak, as plainly as -I can, about myself—"</p> - -<p>Judith paused there, as if she wished to marshal her thoughts, and fit -them with words.</p> - -<p>The King kept his eyes fixed upon her face. His instinct had been -right. Judith understood him, better than he understood himself. -Already, he was conscious that the tumult within him was subsiding. -Judith, with her clear eyes, and sure touch, would disentangle the -mingled threads of their strange destiny, rearrange them, and put them -straight.</p> - -<p>"First of all, I want you to understand that I know that there can be -no change in, no development, no outcome of—our friendship," Judith -resumed slowly. "And I want you to know that I am—content that it -should be so. My life has been full of—much that many women miss. -I had Jack, my husband. I have the Imps. I have Uncle Bond. And I -have—you.</p> - -<p>"Your—friendship—has become very precious to me, Alfred. When you -first came here, I liked you, I think, because you reminded me of Jack. -It was the sea, and the Navy, of course. The sea, and the Navy, mark a -man, don't they? They give him a certain style, and stamp. But that was -only a superficial, surface resemblance, of course. I had not known you -very long before I realized that you were quite unlike Jack.</p> - -<p>"Jack was simple, a boy, a dear. He was a splendid man, physically. At -sea, he could sail anything that would float. He had no idea of fear. -He did his duty. He obeyed orders. He never questioned anything. Life -to him was always plain and straightforward. He always saw his way, -like the course of his ship, clear before him. He never had a real -trouble, or doubt. He was happy, even in his death. You know how he led -the destroyers into action, and sank an enemy ship, before he went down -himself? I—loved him. But I loved him, as I love the Imps. When he was -at home, on shore, with me, I used to feel that I had three boys to -look after—</p> - -<p>"You are different. Your mind works all the time. You doubt, you -question, everything. You see all round things to which Jack would -never have given a thought. Your brain is always active—too active. -Life to you is always complex, puzzling. You live more, and harder, in -a day, in your brain, than Jack did in a year. It was when I began to -understand what was going on in the brain, behind your tired blue eyes, -that I learnt—to love you. Jack had no imagination. You have—too much -imagination. I loved Jack. But you—you could carry me off my feet—</p> - -<p>"That is just what happened last night. I want you to understand about -last night, Alfred. It is important that you should understand about -last night, I think. A good deal of your trouble, of your bewilderment, -and uncertainty, today, is because of last night, I believe. And it -may—happen again.</p> - -<p>"I have always been very careful with you—until last night. I know -that I—attract you. At one time, I was afraid that that might -interfere with, that it might spoil, our friendship. But, as I came to -know you better, as I came to understand the hold, the control, you -have over yourself, I began to realize that it was not you, but myself, -that I had to fear. I was very careful. I watched myself. And then, -last night, after all, I failed you—</p> - -<p>"But you had just been Crowned! And, after your Coronation, after all -that you had been through, you got away, as soon as you could, to come -and see me! That in itself was—a tribute—which no woman could have -resisted, I think. And you were different. Your Coronation has made -a difference, Alfred. And you were wearing the King's colours. You -remember that? And you talked about the King needing all his friends. -And, somehow, just for the moment, I wanted you to trust me, to give me -the whole of your confidence. I have always wanted your confidence. And -then—I was afraid. And I took you in to the Imps for safety. And their -crowns were there. And I couldn't resist playing with fire. And you -picked up Button's crown. And I felt all your thought—bitter, ironic, -painful thoughts. I am much more responsive to your moods than you -realize, I think. And I wanted to comfort you. And I looked at you. And -you saw what I felt—</p> - -<p>"It was just as if I had said, all the things which we have always left -unsaid, wasn't it? It was just as if I had shouted aloud, all the -things which we have always been so careful to ignore. It—troubled -you—then. It troubles you still. It will be a long time, before I -shall be able to forgive myself, for what happened last night—</p> - -<p>"I have always wanted to help you, to serve you, to make things easier -for you, you see—not to add to your difficulties. But we have helped -you, Uncle Bond, and I, and the Imps, haven't we! It has been good -for you to come here, to us, in Paradise, for rest, and quiet, and -peace, hasn't it? There is an old fairy story about a man who was -haunted by his shadow, that the Imps are very fond of, that I have -always connected with you, in my own mind. You are haunted by your -shadow, aren't you? You are haunted by the shadow of your rank, of -your position, of your responsibility. But you have always been able -to forget your shadow here with us—until last night—haven't you? It -has always been waiting for you, when you went away in the morning, you -picked it up again in the lane, on your way back to town, I know. But, -while you were here, you never saw your shadow, until last night, did -you?"</p> - -<p>"It has always been just like that," the King murmured. "With you, I -have always been able to live, in the present moment—"</p> - -<p>"It always <i>shall be</i> just like that," Judith declared.</p> - -<p>Then she stood up abruptly.</p> - -<p>"But I am not going to talk any more now," she said. "I must go in. -The Imps will be awake by now. But I shan't bring them out here. I -want you to rest. I promised the Duke, that I would see that you got -as much rest as possible, whenever you came here. I—like the Duke. -He—cares more for you—than you realize, Alfred, I think. You will -try to rest now, won't you? How much sleep have you had in the last -twenty-four hours? Three hours, last night? You are too reckless. I am -not surprised the King's physician is turning grey. The Duke told me -that. You can't stay up on the bridge indefinitely. You will find that -you will be able to sleep now—after all my plain speaking! Are you -comfortable in that chair? Let me give you this cushion—"</p> - -<p>She lingered beside him, seeking to make him comfortable, as a woman -will.</p> - -<p>"I treat you, just as if you were one of my boys, don't I?" she said. -"I know you like it. But I do it—in self-defence."</p> - - - -<p>The King submitted, passively, to her ministrations.</p> - -<p>Then he caught her hand, and raised it to his lips.</p> - -<p>His action, like so many of his actions, was quite impulsive. But he -did not regret it.</p> - -<p>In what other way could he have expressed so well, his admiration, his -gratitude, his renewed trust?</p> - -<p>Judith blushed charmingly.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, she leant down over him, and kissed him, lightly, on -the forehead.</p> - -<p>"I kissed you like that, last night, when you were asleep," she said, -with an odd, breathless, little catch in her voice.</p> - -<p>Then she turned, and hurried away, through the trees, back to the -house,—</p> - -<p>A great drowsiness took possession of the King. He did not resist it. -He gave himself up to it gladly—</p> - -<p>His instinct had served him well. Judith understood him, better than he -understood himself. Judith was right. She was always right. The larger -part of his trouble, it seemed to him, now, had been, as she said, his -bewilderment, his uncertainty, as to where he and she stood. Now that -Judith had defined their position—as plainly as it could be defined -with safety—a great burden seemed to have been lifted from his mind. -Judith understood him. Nothing else mattered. Other things—could not -touch him here in Paradise. Other things—could wait.</p> - -<p>His shadow—</p> - -<p>Half asleep, as he was already, he sat up abruptly.</p> - -<p>The bright, afternoon sun was shining full on to the little clearing, -throwing no shadow—</p> - -<p>His shadow was not there—</p> - -<p>Leaning back, contentedly, in his chair, he closed his eyes again.</p> - -<p>Almost at once, he slept.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XIV</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/a.jpg" alt="pic" /></span> <span class="uppercase"> light</span>, butterfly touch on his cheek awoke the King.</p> - -<p>He had slept so deeply, and so long, it was a minute or two, before he -fully regained consciousness.</p> - -<p>Then he found himself gazing at Bill's gleeful, cherubic face.</p> - -<p>"Lazy, lazy, slug-a-bed, Uncle Alfred," Bill chanted. "'Bed by daytime' -was over—ever so long ago. We've been making the hay, the whole -afternoon. And you've been asleep all the time, you poor, tired dear. -But mother said we could wake you now."</p> - -<p>A sudden tenderness, for the shining innocence of the little fellow's -smiling face, gripped the King.</p> - -<p>Catching him up in his arms, he shook him, playfully, in mid air.</p> - -<p>Then he set him down on his feet again, and turning—saw Button, on the -other side of his chair.</p> - -<p>"Wonderful harvest weather, this we're having," Button remarked. "But, -if it's good for the hay, it's bad for the roots. We want rain for the -roots, there's no denying."</p> - -<p>It was an extremely elderly Button who spoke.</p> - -<p>The King recognized one of the youngster's habitual quotations.</p> - -<p>It sounded like the weather lore of old Jevons, the gardener.</p> - -<p>"It's Coronation weather, you see, Button," he said absently.</p> - -<p>Button became all boy, seven-year-old boy, at once.</p> - -<p>"Were you in the procession, Uncle Alfred?" he cried. "Mother told us -about it. Did you see the King? Did you wear your sword? Did the people -cheer?"</p> - -<p>"Tell us about the flags, and the 'luminations, and the fireworks," -Bill demanded, joining in, in the little hurricane of questions. -"Mother says the King rode in his coach. Why didn't he ride on one of -his horses? Did he wear his crown in the coach? Is his crown heavy?"</p> - -<p>"Mother says the King is quite young. That is funny, isn't it?" Button -predominated. "All the Kings in the fairy stories are old, old men, -with long, white beards. Do you think he likes being King? Mother -says he has to work very hard, that he can't do just what he likes, -and please himself, that he always has to think—first of England, and -never of himself. That doesn't sound as if he had much fun, does it?"</p> - -<p>"Do you know him? Is he a friend of yours?" Bill enquired.</p> - -<p>By this time, the King's dormant ironic sense had been most effectively -aroused. He was amused? Yes. But more than one of the youngsters' -innocent shafts had reached home.</p> - -<p>And Judith was not greatly interested in politics!</p> - -<p>"First of England, and never of himself?"</p> - -<p>Had he not always thought—first of himself?</p> - -<p>"Mother says the King was in the Navy, like you and our daddy, until -they told him that he had to be King," Button continued. "Daddy died in -battle, you know. But it isn't sad. Mother has his medals. When I grow -up, I'm to have his sword, and go into the Navy, too. Mother says it's -the King's Service. When Bill is big enough, mother says he'll be as -big as I am some day, he's going into the Navy, too. He'll be in the -King's Service, too. But I'm to have daddy's sword, because I'm the -eldest."</p> - - - -<p>Bill scrambled up on to the King's knees.</p> - -<p>"You will tell us all about the King, and his procession, and the -'luminations, and the fireworks, won't you, dear?" he coaxed.</p> - -<p>"Some day—perhaps I will," the King said. "But it is a long, and a -difficult story, and it—isn't finished yet. I don't think the King -likes being King, very much, though. Mother is right. He—can't do just -what he likes. He hasn't been King very long—but he has learnt that, -already. Perhaps, I don't know, he may learn, if he has the chance, -in time, to think—first of England, and never of himself. He doesn't -have much fun. I know that. His crown is—heavier than he likes. He was -very tired of it all, yesterday, I know. He didn't see—much of his own -procession. He saw the flags, and the crowds, and he heard the cheers. -Yes. The people cheered! And he bowed, and smiled, and played his part. -But I don't think he enjoyed it very much. I think he was—rather -afraid of it all, in his own heart. He didn't wear his sword. They -won't let the King fight, nowadays, you see. He has to let other -men—brave men like your daddy—fight for him. He—doesn't like that! -That is why it is better to be in the King's Service, in the Navy, as -you are going to be, when you grow tall enough, than to be—the King—"</p> - -<p>"Didn't they let him sit up to see the 'luminations, and the -fireworks?" Bill asked, surprised, and puzzled.</p> - -<p>"Yes. They let him sit up to see them," the King acknowledged hastily. -"And there were illuminated aeroplanes over the palace. And "God Save -the King," and "God Save King Alfred the Second," in letters of fire, -on all the houses—"</p> - -<p>"Here's mother," Button announced.</p> - -<p>Judith appeared, advancing through the trees.</p> - -<p>Button ran to meet her.</p> - -<p>Bill remained faithful to the King's knee.</p> - -<p>The King frowned. He understood, suddenly, he thought, why Judith had -sent the Imps to wake him. The Imps were protection, safety. Judith -was right, of course. It was wise of her to take such precautions—in -self-defence. And yet, somehow, at the moment, he resented her wisdom.</p> - -<p>"You have had a good sleep, Alfred," Judith said, smiling pleasantly, -as she halted beside him. "It is nearly six o'clock now. We came, and -looked at you, at tea-time, but you were so fast asleep, it seemed a -shame to wake you."</p> - - - -<p>The King's resentment fell from him. He felt ashamed of himself. It was -of him, and not of herself—did she ever think of herself?—that Judith -had been thinking.</p> - -<p>"I feel very much better, thank you. The rest has done me good," he -said.</p> - -<p>"Uncle Alfred has been telling us about the King, mother," Button -explained. "He says he doesn't think the King likes being King very -much. He can't do what he likes, just as you said. They won't let him -wear his sword even, and he can't fight for himself. He has to let -other people fight for him. I'm glad I'm not King. I'd rather be a -sailor, and wear daddy's sword."</p> - -<p>The King put Bill down off his knee, and stood up hastily, glad to -avoid, in this way, meeting Judith's glance—</p> - -<p>"Picaback! Picaback!" Bill cried.</p> - -<p>"A race!" Button shouted.</p> - -<p>It was the Imps' hour for play.</p> - -<p>Always, in the evening, between tea and dinner, Judith joined them, in -the garden, in a riotous frolic.</p> - -<p>This evening the King, too, was inevitably, pressed into their service.</p> - -<p>The King mounted Bill on his shoulders, willingly enough.</p> - - - -<p>Button claimed Judith as his mettlesome charger.</p> - -<p>The race, it was decided, should be to the house.</p> - -<p>And so, with Button urging Judith forward, and Bill spurring the King -on, remorselessly, with his heels, the race began.</p> - -<p>The result was, for some time, in doubt.</p> - -<p>Ultimately, going all out across the lawn, Bill, on the King, won by a -short length.</p> - -<p>Whether Bill, or the King, was the more delighted at this success, it -would have taken a very acute observer to judge.</p> - -<p>In the ensuing hour, the King found himself called upon to play a -variety of parts, which would have made exhaustive demands upon the -resources of the most experienced quick-change artist.</p> - -<p>A Wild Beast in the trees, Man Friday, a Red Indian, a Cannibal King, -and a Policeman, were amongst his more prominent rôles. Flinging -himself into the spirit of the play, with a gusto which he caught, in -part, from Judith, he entirely forgot himself.</p> - -<p>The Imps' laughter rang out, blithe and free, through the garden, and -about the house. Whenever their interest, or their energy failed, -Judith was quick with some delectable proposal, unlimited in resource. -With all their unspoilt imagination, Button and Bill were hard put to -it, at times, to keep pace with the whims of their radiant, laughing -mother. Judith played with all the abandon of a child, directed by the -intellect of an adult. To the King this combination was irresistible. -He had no thought now apart from the present moment.</p> - -<p>Once only, were he and Judith alone together. It was in the course of -a wild game of hide and seek with which the play ended. It was their -turn to hide. Quite by chance, they sought the same cover—a large -rhododendron bush in the drive. They crouched together, behind the -bush, side by side.</p> - -<p>Judith was flushed, panting a little, and a trifle dishevelled.</p> - -<p>"Isn't this fun?" she whispered, turning to him with shining eyes.</p> - -<p>"I am ten years old—for the first time," the King replied.</p> - -<p>Judith's face clouded.</p> - -<p>"When you were a boy—was the shadow there already?" she asked.</p> - -<p>"I think that it must have been, although I didn't know it," the King -muttered. "I expect it was my own fault—but I was lonely. I knew, -I think we all knew—that we were not like other children. It wasn't -until I went to sea that—I was able to forget that I was a Prince!"</p> - -<p>"Poor, lonely, little Prince!" Judith murmured. "But when he went to -sea, he was happy?"</p> - -<p>"The sea knocked a lot of nonsense out of me," the King replied. "At -sea, a man is a man, and nothing else. When I had learnt that, I was -happy."</p> - -<p>Then the Imps burst in upon them, and the play was at an end.</p> - -<p>Judith drove the Imps before her, into the house.</p> - -<p>For them—a light supper, and then, an early bedtime.</p> - -<p>The King made his way into the house in turn.</p> - -<p>It was time to dress for dinner.</p> - -<p>A rich content, a sense of absolute well-being, was with the King now. -Was it not always so, when he had been with Judith, and the Imps? The -bewilderment, the turmoil, and the fever, which had raged within him, -only a few hours ago, seemed very far away.</p> - -<p>Here, in Paradise, the present moment was good!</p> - - - -<p>Insensibly—had Judith contrived it?—he had stepped into the quiet old -inn of "Content," on the corner of the market-place. He had turned his -back on—the procession—on the fight in the market-place. He would -keep his back turned to them. He would not even risk the window view.</p> - -<p>Alfred, the sailor, was not dead!</p> - -<p>It was Alfred, the sailor, who entered the house.</p> - -<p>It was Alfred, the sailor, who passed into his own room.</p> - -<p>Here, a surprise awaited him. Laid out in the room were evening -clothes. On the dressing-table were familiar toilet trifles from the -palace.</p> - -<p>Alfred, the sailor, fled.</p> - -<p>It was the King, who halted, in the middle of the room, and looked -about him.</p> - -<p>This, he realized, must have been the outcome of the old Duke's -thoughtfulness. The Duke alone could have given the orders which had -made this possible. That the Duke should have found time to attend to -so trivial a matter, time to give orders to a valet to pack a bag, when -he was giving orders to maintain a throne—it was almost ludicrous!</p> - -<p>And yet, it was like the Duke.</p> - - - -<p>It was like the Duke, to remind him, to assure him, in this way, that -he, the King, was of importance, that he was being served, well served, -in small matters, as well as in great. Something of the sort must -have been in the old Duke's mind, when he gave the orders, which had -provided him, the King, with a dress shirt—and studs!—now, when he -wanted them—</p> - -<p>No doubt, some member of the palace household staff, Smith perhaps, had -been sent down, specially, from the palace, with these things, during -the afternoon. Like the police, and the military, he would have been -given orders to remain invisible. That was as it should be. A valet -would have been out of place in Paradise. Alfred, the sailor, would be -entitled to a servant, of course. But he would hardly accompany him -on—"a short leave of absence"—</p> - -<p>The King was glad to change.</p> - -<p>He was glad to think, as he dressed leisurely, that he would appear -suitably clad at Judith's table.</p> - -<p>There is a stimulation in clothes which he was young enough to feel.</p> - -<p>He was still struggling with his dress tie, when the dinner gong -sounded.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XV</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/a.jpg" alt="pic" /></span> <span class="uppercase"> small</span>, panelled room, on the left of the hall, and on the west side -of the house, the dining room was bright with the light of the setting -sun, as the King entered. Late as he was himself, he was surprised to -find that only Judith was there to receive him. She was standing at the -window doors, which opened out of the room onto the verandah, gazing at -the flaming glory of the sunset sky. Wearing a silver gown, that had a -metallic glitter, which gave her something of a barbaric splendour, she -seemed, at the moment, almost a stranger to the King. But she turned to -welcome him with her usual friendly little nod, and smile.</p> - -<p>"It will be no use our waiting for Uncle Bond," she announced. "He may -be here, in a minute or two. Or he may not come for half an hour, or -more. 'Cynthia' may have got a firm grip on him, you see. Uncle Bond, -or perhaps I ought to say 'Cynthia,' hates being interrupted for meals. -I never wait for him."</p> - -<p>Sitting down at the foot of the dinner table, as she spoke, she waved -the King into his place, on her right, facing the open window doors, -and the view of the garden, and of the wooded landscape beyond, which -they framed.</p> - -<p>"I hope 'Cynthia' <i>has</i> got a firm grip on Uncle Bond," she went on. "I -shall have you all to myself, then. You ought to have said that, you -know. But you never make pretty speeches. That is why I said it for -you."</p> - -<p>The King sat down at the dinner table, and picked up his napkin, -mechanically.</p> - -<p>"Are pretty speeches allowed—between us?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"Why not? Just for once?" Judith replied. "Why shouldn't we play at -them, like a game with the Imps? Shall I begin? I will give you an -opening. Do you like my dress? And my hair? I dressed for you. I know -you like me, of course. But there are times, when a woman likes to be -told—what she knows!"</p> - -<p>The King was surprised, and not a little embarrassed. This was not the -Judith he had expected. This was not the Judith of the afternoon. This -was that other strange, dangerous Judith, of the night before. She had -warned him that—it might happen again. True. But he had never imagined -that it would happen again, so soon—</p> - - - -<p>The entrance of the light-footed parlour-maid, in neat black, who was -responsible for the service of the meal, at that moment, covered the -King's silent confusion.</p> - -<p>So long as the maid was in the room only trivial surface conversation -was possible.</p> - -<p>The King compelled himself to play his necessary, outward social -part. But he was uneasily aware, all the time, inwardly, that Judith -had noticed his embarrassment and that she was likely to resume her -unexpected attack at the first opportunity. His intuition proved -correct; but only partially correct. Judith was quick to take advantage -of the first of the maid's temporary absences from the room to return -to more intimate talk. But she struck, at once, a quieter, graver note.</p> - -<p>"What is it, Alfred?" she asked. "Do I trouble you? I am sorry. It was -selfish of me. I knew that I was playing with fire, of course. But—a -woman grows tired of leaving everything unsaid."</p> - -<p>Her implied appeal, and her insistence on her feminine weakness—a -thing unprecedented in her!—moved the King. He felt ashamed of his own -caution.</p> - -<p>"If I had the right to make pretty speeches—" he began.</p> - - - -<p>Then he checked himself abruptly.</p> - -<p>What was the use of evasion? Had not Judith and he agreed that plain -speaking was their only hope? Judith had spoken plainly enough. The -least he could do was to speak plainly, too. And, suddenly, at the -back of his mind, now, were thoughts, which he had never suspected in -himself, clamouring for expression,—</p> - -<p>"But I haven't the right!" he exclaimed. "I haven't any right to be -here, really. I see that now. I am in an utterly false position. I -ought not to be here. I ought not to have come here, as I have done. It -was not fair—to either of us. It was asking too much of—both of us. -Why haven't I seen that before? I shut my eyes to it, deliberately, I -am afraid. It was a mistake. It has been a mistake all through. I have -been absolutely selfish. I have thought only of myself. It is only -right that I should have to pay for my mistake. But the payment is all -on your side. It has been give, give, give, all the time, on your side. -And take, take, take, all the time, on mine. And I can make no return—"</p> - -<p>"The giving all on our side! You have made no return!" Judith cried. -"It isn't true, Alfred. You know it isn't true! But, even if it were -true—a woman loves a man who allows her to give to him."</p> - -<p>"Isn't that just the trouble?" the King exclaimed, exasperated by the -conflict of feeling within him into a flash of unusual insight.</p> - -<p>Then the parlour-maid re-entered the room.</p> - -<p>Hard on the heels of the parlour-maid, Uncle Bond made his appearance.</p> - -<p>The little man had not dressed for dinner. He was still wearing his -usual, loose-fitting shooting clothes.</p> - -<p>"You will excuse my clothes, I know, my boy," he remarked as he slipped -into his place, at the head of the table. "It has taken me all my -time to get here at all. I have just had a violent quarrel, upstairs, -with 'Cynthia.' I told her that you were here to dinner today, that -you were an honoured guest, and that I wished to show you proper -attention. She told me to get on with my work. I told her that I would -not be hag-ridden—that caught her on the raw!—that she was merely my -familiar spirit, not my master. Then I slammed the door on her. And -here we are!"</p> - -<p>It was difficult to resist Uncle Bond's chuckling good-humour. The King -found himself smiling at the little man's characteristic nonsense, -almost in spite of himself.</p> - - - -<p>Judith proved more obdurate.</p> - -<p>Judith appeared to be really piqued by Uncle Bond's entrance. As the -meal proceeded, she became increasingly silent. An obtuser man than -Uncle Bond must have become quickly conscious that something was wrong. -From the mischievous twinkle which shone in the little man's sparkling -eyes, the King judged that Uncle Bond was only too well aware of the -tension that had sprung up, so unexpectedly, between Judith and himself.</p> - -<p>Oddly enough, Uncle Bond did nothing to relieve the situation. The -little man was, or affected to be, very hungry. Setting himself, ably -seconded by the parlour-maid, to make good the courses which had -already been served, he confined his attention, almost entirely to his -plate.</p> - -<p>The meal went forward, for some time, in these circumstances, with a -minimum of talk, which was not far removed from dumb show.</p> - -<p>The broad rays of the setting sun were shining full into the room now -through the open window doors immediately facing the King. In the -awkward, recurring silences at the table, his eyes turned, again and -again, to the window doors, and the superb landscape which they framed.</p> - - - -<p>Field and wood, winding road, and blossoming hedgerow, cottage and -farm, lay, peaceful and serene, spread out there, before him, in the -bright, evening light.</p> - -<p>And beyond, beyond it all, lay London.</p> - -<p>What was happening there?</p> - -<p>The question startled the King.</p> - -<p>Engrossed in his own thoughts, absorbed by his own emotions, he had -entirely forgotten the crisis.</p> - -<p>Was everything still proceeding in accordance with plan? Why had -he not heard from the Duke? Had not the Duke said that he would be -communicating with him?</p> - -<p>A sudden impatience with, a new contempt for, himself, swept over the -King.</p> - -<p>What right had he to be sitting there, in peace and quietness, when -there was uproar and tumult, perhaps, when great events were shaping -themselves, perhaps, over there, beyond the wooded skyline?</p> - -<p>The Duke had urged him to leave the palace. The Duke had urged him to -seek a retreat, an asylum, out of the way of possible trouble.</p> - -<p>All that was true.</p> - -<p>And yet, here again, by his own act, had he not placed himself—in an -utterly false position?</p> - -<p>This was not his place!</p> - -<p>It seemed to be his fate, that he should always do the wrong thing!</p> - -<p>His worst enemy was, indeed—himself!</p> - -<p>The meal dragged on, drearily, and interminably, it seemed now, to the -King.</p> - -<p>Would it never end?</p> - -<p>At last, the parlour-maid put the decanters on the table, and withdrew, -finally, from the room.</p> - -<p>A moment later, Uncle Bond stood up, glass in hand.</p> - -<p>"I see no reason why we should not drink our usual toast, Judith," he -said. "On the contrary, I think there is every reason why we should -drink it, tonight—</p> - -<p>"The King!"</p> - -<p>Judith sprang up, and raised her glass in turn.</p> - -<p>"The King—God bless him!" she said.</p> - -<p>The King had picked up his own glass, mechanically, and half risen to -his feet.</p> - -<p>He set his glass down again on the table, now with a shaking hand, and -sank back into his chair. Then, hardly conscious of what he was doing, -he bowed, first to Judith, and then to Uncle Bond. He could not see -their faces. There was a mist before his eyes—</p> - -<p>"The King!"</p> - -<p>Their usual toast. They drank it nightly, then, thinking of him. For -them it had a special, personal meaning. With them it was not only a -pledge of loyalty. With them it was a pledge of affection, too.</p> - -<p>The King was profoundly moved.</p> - -<p>Then, suddenly, his brain raced furiously.</p> - -<p>"The King!"</p> - -<p>Judith and Uncle Bond would not be alone in drinking the toast that -evening. All over the world, wherever men and women, of the true -English stock, were gathered together, would not the toast be drunk, -that evening, with a special enthusiasm, a special meaning? Not with -the special, personal meaning, the special, personal affection, -with which Judith and Uncle Bond had drunk it. That was outside the -question. The toast was a bigger thing than any personal affection, -than any personal feeling. It was a bigger thing than—any King—</p> - -<p>"The King!"</p> - -<p>Had not his own pulse quickened, had not his blood flowed more quickly -through his veins, at the words? They had acted upon him like the call -of a trumpet. To what?</p> - -<p>"The King!"</p> - -<p>What did the words stand for? For the biggest things. For England, -loyalty, patriotism, for ideals of service, personal, and national. No -man or woman drinking the toast thought and felt precisely as any other -man or woman standing beside them. But they were all united, all their -varied thoughts, and ideals, and emotions were linked together by the -words.</p> - -<p>And he—the King—was the recognized, the accredited, figurehead, of -all their varied thoughts, ideals, emotions.</p> - -<p>Was not this the reason, that he might serve as a link between the -varied ideals of all his people, that the King, his father, had been -content to live a man apart, isolated, lonely, remote? Was it not for -this that his brother, the Prince, had prepared himself, sacrificing -himself, never sparing himself?</p> - -<p>And he had followed them unwillingly—</p> - -<p>A new resolve, or something as near akin to a new resolve as he dare -venture upon, in his new distrust, his new contempt, for himself, was -registered by the King, at that moment.</p> - -<p>If the old Duke "cut the rope"—and the old Duke would, he must -"cut the rope"—he, the King, would shape the course of his life, -differently—</p> - -<p>It was not, he realized, that these were new thoughts with him. They -were, rather, thoughts which had lurked, until now, at the back of his -mind, overlaid by that preoccupation with himself, by that thinking -first of himself, which given the chance, given the time, it would be -his business, now, to alter—</p> - -<p>The shutting of the door, behind him, at this point, startled the King -out of his reverie.</p> - -<p>Looking round, he found that Judith had left the table, and slipped -quietly out of the room.</p> - -<p>He turned to his right—and met Uncle Bond's curious glance.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond pushed a cigar box across the table, towards him.</p> - -<p>The King chose a cigar absently.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond selected a long, and formidable looking cheroot, lit it, and -then leaning back in his chair, began to talk.</p> - -<p>"I would give a good deal to be able to read your thoughts, my boy," -he remarked. "Perhaps I can read—some of them! If it were not for the -bond of friendship between us, I should be tempted to regard you as a -most fascinating psychological study. Your position, the circumstances -in which you find yourself, at the moment are—unique. And you are -becoming conscious of that, and of many other things, unless I am -much mistaken. Our little comedy is drawing to its close, I fancy. -Meanwhile, shall we share our thoughts? Or do you feel that silence is -as essential, as it is said to be golden?"</p> - -<p>The King hesitated, for a moment. His recent thoughts could be shared -with no one—not even with Uncle Bond, not even with Judith—</p> - -<p>Then, as he looked up, in his perplexity, his eyes were caught by -the landscape, framed in the open window doors, in front of him. -Instinctively, he fell back upon his earlier thoughts, of what was -happening over there, beyond the wooded skyline, of why he had not -heard from the Duke.</p> - -<p>"I have been wondering what is happening over there," he said, -indicating the far horizon with a gesture. "I begin to want to know -what is happening. The Duke said he would be communicating with me, you -know. I suppose you haven't heard from the Duke again?"</p> - -<p>"No. I have not heard from the Duke," Uncle Bond replied. "But no news -is good news, in this case, my boy, I am certain. My own idea is that -the Duke will send no message until—everything has proceeded 'in -accordance with plan'—until he has, definitely, 'cut the rope.' Then, -and not until then, I think we may expect to see him here, in person."</p> - -<p>The King was silent. He was conscious that he would be ready for, that -he would be glad to see, the Duke, when he came.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond, with his uncanny, unerring instinct, seemed to read his -thoughts.</p> - -<p>"Our intimacy is, I think, nearing its end. Or, if it is not nearing -its end, it is approaching a time when it will be, inevitably, -changed," he remarked. "Ours has been a strange association, my boy. -But I am glad to think that it has been as pleasant, as it has been -strange. It has been so to Judith, and to myself. And to you? You have -enjoyed the hospitality which we have been so glad to offer you. And we -have been able to do you some service—a greater service, perhaps, than -we ever intended, a greater service, perhaps, than you, as yet, realize.</p> - -<p>"We shall not see as much of you, in the near future, I fancy, as we -have done, in the past. Probably, we shall see less of you. Probably, -a time will come when your very welcome visits here will cease -altogether. But, I am glad to think, you will not be able to forget -us. We shall always have a place in your memory—a place of our own—a -place like no one else's. As the years go by, you will fill a more and -more important, a more and more distinguished position. But you will -not forget us. You will think of us gratefully.</p> - -<p>"I want, Judith and I both want, your memory of us to be without -regret, to be a wholly pleasant memory. A mental oasis, perhaps, of -a kind useful to a man who is condemned to fill a conspicuous, and -responsible position—in the procession. There has been nothing in our -association which you, or we, can regret, thus far. Be on your guard, -my boy. See to it, that nothing occurs, that any of us need regret, in -retrospect—</p> - -<p>"I have fallen into a bad habit of gravity with you, I observe. I seem -to have taken to obtruding my advice upon you. The Heavy Father! This -afternoon. And now, again, tonight. I apologize!</p> - -<p>"And now I must revert to 'Cynthia'! We have had a wonderful day. -You always bring me luck. But 'Cynthia,' when she once gets going is -insatiable. I shall have to put in two or three more hours, with her, -upstairs, tonight. We are thousands of words ahead of the time-table -already. I shall be able to be idle for weeks after today. But there is -a climax in the offing—a climax, a couple of pages ahead, which cannot -wait. I must let it take its own course, shape itself, and get it down -on to paper. It never pays to let a climax wait!"</p> - -<p>The little man stood up, and leaving the table, crossed the room to the -door. But, by the door, he paused.</p> - -<p>"Judith, I see, is waiting for you, in the hall, my boy," he announced. -"She will give you some music, I dare say. If you should happen to want -me—I am upstairs."</p> - -<p>Then he disappeared.</p> - -<p>In spite of Uncle Bond's announcement that Judith was waiting for him, -the King lingered at the dinner table. Somehow, he did not wish—to -be alone with Judith again. Was he afraid of her? Or of himself? He -hardly knew. But he shrank instinctively from the ordeal. It would be -an ordeal. The consequences, the inevitable consequences, of his false -position, of his reckless self-indulgence, were closing about him—</p> - -<p>Suddenly, the soft notes of the piano, in the hall, reached his ears.</p> - - - -<p>Judith had begun her music, without waiting for him.</p> - -<p>The King had no cultivated taste in music. The rattling melodies of the -wardroom piano, or gramophone, were his greatest pleasure. Like most -people, where music was concerned, he was merely an animal, soothed or -irritated, by noise.</p> - -<p>Judith's music was soft and low.</p> - -<p>It soothed him.</p> - -<p>Well, the ordeal had to be faced!</p> - -<p>Finishing his glass of port, he stood up.</p> - -<p>Then he passed, reluctantly, out of the dining room, into the hall.</p> - -<p>In the hall, the shadows of the twilight were gathering fast. Judith's -silver dress shone, obscurely luminous, in the far corner, where she -was seated at the piano. She turned, and welcomed him with her friendly -little nod, and went on playing.</p> - -<p>The King sat down on the ottoman, at the foot of the staircase. It was -the furthest distance that he could keep from Judith.</p> - -<p>Judith played on, passing from one melody to another, playing -throughout from memory, odd movements, and the music of songs, all soft -and low, and all, it seemed, now, to the King, plaintive, sad.</p> - - - -<p>The twilight deepened in the hall.</p> - -<p>Neither the twilight, nor the music, brought peace to the King.</p> - -<p>A sense of fatality, a feeling of impending crisis, was with him.</p> - -<p>And he was afraid, now—of himself.</p> - -<p>At last, the music ceased.</p> - -<p>Judith stood up.</p> - -<p>The King rose to his feet, in turn.</p> - -<p>And then, suddenly, blind instinct came to his aid, counselling flight.</p> - -<p>Without a word, with the briefest possible glance in Judith's -direction, he turned sharply round on his heel, and passed quickly up -the staircase, to Uncle Bond's quarters.</p> - -<p>He flung open the door of Uncle Bond's writing room, without knocking—</p> - -<p>"I have come—to place myself under arrest, Uncle Bond," he exclaimed. -"I have come—to put myself into safe custody. I can't—trust myself."</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond, busy at his writing table, laid down his pencil, and turned -in his chair.</p> - -<p>"Shut the door, my boy," he said. "I accept the responsibility you -have offered me. It is a responsibility which I would have accepted -before—but I did not care to interfere, between you and Judith, until -it was offered to me."</p> - -<p>The King shut the door.</p> - -<p>"Fortunately, 'Cynthia' and I have just finished our climax," Uncle -Bond chuckled. "I can blow out the candles, and devote myself to you."</p> - -<p>He blew out the candles on the writing table, the only light in the -room.</p> - -<p>"Sit down, my boy," he said. "Can you feel your way to the sofa? The -moon rises late tonight. In this dubious, half light, we may be able to -talk—at our ease."</p> - -<p>The King found his way to the sofa, under the windows, without any -difficulty, and sat down.</p> - -<p>A dusky veil, which was not darkness, had been drawn over the room, -when Uncle Bond blew out the candles. Outside the windows, there was -still a luminous glow in the sky, where one or two stars shone palely. -A couple of bats fluttered, to and fro, across the length of the -windows. Some martins, settling down for the night, in their nests, -under the eaves of the house, twittered excitedly—</p> - -<p>"Shall we talk?" Uncle Bond asked suddenly. "I am ready to talk. And -yet—I have no great faith in words. 'Cynthia' uses them. But plain -James Bond has learnt their danger. After all, when an action speaks -for itself, why use words? They will probably be the wrong words."</p> - -<p>"I do not think that I want to talk, Uncle Bond," the King said slowly.</p> - -<p>It seemed to him, now, that he had already said enough, perhaps too -much, when he had entered the room.</p> - -<p>"I am content," Uncle Bond said. "I am not afraid of silence."</p> - -<p>Silence, at the moment, was welcome to the King—</p> - -<p>It was a soothing, sedative silence, which brought with it the first -hush of night.</p> - -<p>The King settled himself, more comfortably, at full length, on the sofa.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond neither moved, nor spoke.</p> - -<p>Some time passed.</p> - -<p>At last, Uncle Bond stood up, and crossed quietly to the sofa.</p> - -<p>The King was asleep.</p> - -<p>The little man drew out two or three blankets, from under the sofa, and -threw them over the King.</p> - -<p>Then he returned to the writing table, and sat down. But he did not -relight his candles, and resume his work. He leant back in his chair, -in an attitude of expectancy, as if he were waiting for somebody.</p> - -<p>He had not long to wait.</p> - -<p>In a minute or two, the door behind him was opened, quietly, and Judith -slipped into the room.</p> - -<p>Judith halted behind the little man, and stood there, for some time -in silence, gazing at the King's face, which was dimly visible in the -light from the windows.</p> - -<p>At last, she spoke.</p> - -<p>"He is asleep?" she whispered.</p> - -<p>"Yes," Uncle Bond said. "When you remember the strain under which he -has been running, you can hardly be surprised."</p> - -<p>There was a short silence. Then Judith laid her hand on the little -man's shoulder.</p> - -<p>"It was—my fault, Uncle Bond," she whispered. "I—failed him. It has -happened twice now. Last night was the first time. And tonight—he knew -that it was going to happen again. I don't know—how it happened. It -ought not to have happened—"</p> - -<p>"It had to happen. It is a good thing that it has happened," Uncle Bond -said quietly. "It was—the necessary climax. I have been expecting it. -And now—it is over—</p> - - - -<p>"It was a risk. It was a great risk. It was <i>the</i> risk," the little man -went on, in a low, meditative tone. "But I trusted—<i>him</i>. It seemed to -me that he could not fail. He comes of a good stock. The long line of -men and women who lived, so that he might live, did not live in vain. -Think of their restraint, their self-repression, their self-sacrifice—</p> - -<p>"And we have been able to do him a service, a great service, a -greater service than he realizes as yet. We have helped him through -a difficult, and dangerous, period in his life. And you have shown -him—of what stuff he is made. Instincts, and impulses, which, in him, -have necessarily been insulated, and sternly suppressed, for years, -have been brought into play. He knows now—of what stuff he is made.</p> - -<p>"The future will be easier. I was telling him, tonight, that I do -not think that we shall see so much of him, in the future. The time -is coming when we shall see very little of him, I think. But he will -not forget us. He will think of us with gratitude, with deepening -gratitude, as the years go by. We shall have a place of our own in his -memory. And there will be nothing in his memory, that he, or we, need -regret—</p> - - - -<p>"We shall miss him. He has come to fill a large place in all our lives. -It has been a strange episode. That he should have wandered, by chance, -into our quiet backwater; that we should have become implicated, -through him, in great issues—that is strange. But it is only an -episode. And it is nearly over now. And we—and you—would not have it -otherwise?"</p> - -<p>"I would not have it otherwise," Judith whispered.</p> - -<p>Then she drew in her breath, sharply, as if in pain.</p> - -<p>"But I have so much, and he has so little," she said.</p> - -<p>"He has—England," Uncle Bond said gravely.</p> - -<p>"And I have the Imps, and you," Judith replied.</p> - -<p>Then she stooped down, suddenly, and kissed the little man.</p> - -<p>"Good night," she said. "I am going straight to bed. I am very tired."</p> - -<p>And she turned, and hurried out of the room—</p> - -<p>For some time, Uncle Bond remained motionless at the writing table.</p> - -<p>The night was very still. An owl called, eerily, from the garden. A -dog barked in some distant farmyard.</p> - -<p>At last, the little man rose to his feet, crossed to the sofa again, -and stood looking down at the King's face which showed pallid, drawn, -and, somehow, it seemed to him now, old, in the dim, half light.</p> - -<p>"The band, I think, <i>must be</i> playing—somewhere—" he muttered.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XVI</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/i.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">t</span> was a night of strange dreams with the King.</p> - -<p>For endless ages, as it seemed to him, watched all the time by a -thousand flushed, curious faces, by a thousand eyes, he fled, down -interminable corridors, across dark and desolate waste places, pursued, -now by the old Duke of Northborough, now by Uncle Bond, and now by -Judith. His feet were of lead. Time and again, he stumbled, and all -but fell. His breath came in panting gusts. He reeled. His brain was -on fire. And yet the chase continued, across continents, through dark, -dank caves, along a dreary coast line, on the edge of precipices, by -the side of angry seas—</p> - -<p>The horror of it all was heightened by his knowledge that he was being -pursued in error. Some inexplicable, mysterious misunderstanding -between him, and his pursuers, accounted for the chase. They were -pursuing him, hunting him down, mistakenly, full of a desire to serve -him, to save him. He could not, he dare not, stop to explain their -error to them. To stop was death. And Judith was the most persistent, -the most relentless of his pursuers—</p> - -<p>At last the darkness, through which he fled, was pierced by a blinding -light, which played full upon his face, dazzling his eyes. They had -turned a searchlight upon him, to aid them in hunting him down. All the -world would see his fall. He twisted, this way and that, to avoid the -light. But his frenzied efforts were all in vain. The light turned with -him always, shining full upon his face. Then he fell—</p> - -<p>Bright morning sunshine was streaming in through the open windows of -the writing room, full upon the King's face, as he awoke. As he turned -his head to avoid its blinding glare, he saw Uncle Bond's writing -table, bare and empty, save for the candlesticks, in which mere stumps -of candles remained. Slowly he became conscious of his surroundings. -First he recognized the writing table, than the bare walls, then -the room. Then he realized that he was lying on the sofa, under the -windows. The blankets which covered him puzzled him for awhile. The -fact that he was fully dressed in evening clothes puzzled him still -more. Then memory was achieved, and he knew—who he was, where he was. -Throwing off the blankets he sprang up on to his feet, and stretched -himself with a sudden access of immense relief.</p> - -<p>It was good to awake from so terrifying a dream—</p> - -<p>A burst of radiant, childish laughter, outside the room, down below in -the garden, drew him to the windows.</p> - -<p>Old Jevons, the gardener, was on the lawn, with Joshua, the equally -elderly garden donkey, harnessed to the lawn mower. Bill was perched -on Joshua's unwilling back. Button was pulling at Joshua's obstinate -mouth. And Joshua would not move. Joshua was a capricious animal, with -a temper of his own. To the laughing Imps, his recurring mutinies were -a never failing joy.</p> - -<p>In the bright morning light, against the green background of the garden -trees, the animated little scene had a charm which was not lost upon -the King.</p> - -<p>"If I had a donkey, what wouldn't go," Bill chanted.</p> - -<p>"Wouldn't I wollop him? No! No! No!" Button carolled gleefully, -abandoning Joshua's mouth, and converting the nursery rhyme into an -action song of considerable vigour.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, Joshua succumbed. Lowering his head before the storm, he -moved forward.</p> - -<p>Old Jevons, who had been waiting patiently for this capitulation, -guided the machine.</p> - -<p>"It's a hard world for donkeys!" the King moralized at the window. -"But, once harnessed, I suppose—one has to pull the machine."</p> - -<p>It was of himself that he was thinking!</p> - -<p>Then Judith appeared in the garden, stepping down from the verandah, -and sauntering across the lawn.</p> - -<p>The King withdrew hastily, from the windows.</p> - -<p>He hardly knew why.</p> - -<p>But he did know! His clothes, his dishevelled appearance, made him feel -foolish. The sooner he could get a bath, and a change, the better. It -must be late. It must be nearly breakfast time. Now, while Judith and -the Imps were out in the garden, he would probably be able to slip -down to his bedroom, unobserved. The servants would be busy preparing -breakfast. It must be eight o'clock at least. He must hurry—</p> - -<p>Darting out of the writing room, he passed quickly down the staircase, -and through the hall, without meeting anybody on the way. As he -raced along the corridor which led to his bedroom, he noticed, with -considerable satisfaction, that the bathroom was empty. Diving into -his bedroom, he snatched up some towels, and his dressing case. Then -he hurried back to the bathroom. It was with a feeling not far removed -from triumph that he shut the bathroom door.</p> - -<p>The cold water of the bath was stimulating, invigorating. A shave -restored his self-respect. The last vestiges of his troubled sleep -fell from him. He was rested, although his sleep had been troubled. -He had needed rest. This morning, he was himself again. He was ready -to face—whatever had to be faced. But not a moment sooner than was -necessary. For the time being, he put thought from him, deliberately—</p> - -<p>Back in his bedroom, he found that the grey lounge suit, which he had -been wearing the day before, had been carefully brushed, and laid out -ready for him. The invisible valet had been at work again. He dressed -quickly. While he was knotting his tie, a point in his toilet that he -was particular about, even this morning, from mere force of habit, the -gong in the hall sounded. He looked at his watch. He had not been far -out in his estimate of the time. It was just on half past eight. Did -they know he was up? Of course they would know. No doubt, even here in -his bedroom, he was being carefully, if unostentatiously, shadowed—</p> - -<p>A sound of footsteps outside on the verandah told him that it was -there, as usual, that breakfast was being served.</p> - -<p>Well, he had to face them!</p> - -<p>And Uncle Bond, if he was there, if he was equal to breakfasting in -public for once, might have news—</p> - -<p>The King stepped out of the bedroom, through the open window doors, on -to the verandah.</p> - -<p>The breakfast table had been placed at the far end of the verandah.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond was there.</p> - -<p>Judith was there.</p> - -<p>The Imps were there.</p> - -<p>And so was—the Duke.</p> - -<p>A momentary silence followed the King's appearance on the verandah.</p> - -<p>Then the Imps ran forward to greet him.</p> - -<p>"We are all to have breakfast together, Uncle Alfred," Button -announced.</p> - - - -<p>"And we've been waiting for you—for ever so long," Bill complained.</p> - -<p>The King caught them up, in turn, and shook them, in mid-air, as was -his wont.</p> - -<p>"We all like your friend very much," Bill whispered. "He's been here a -long, long time—quite twenty minutes!"</p> - -<p>"He came in a big car, bigger than Uncle's," Button supplemented.</p> - -<p>The King looked at his "friend"—the Duke.</p> - -<p>With his broad shoulders, and great height, the Duke dominated the -little group, at the breakfast table, as he dominated every group, -wherever he stood. He was still wearing the rather shabby black office -suit which he had been wearing the day before. Whatever his experience -had been, within the last twenty-four hours, it had not changed him. -The formidable, massive features, under their crown of silver hair, the -luminous, piercing, blue eyes, showed no sign of weariness, no hint -even of anxiety. The force, the vigour, the look, of the wonderful -old man were all unimpaired. He was still, as he had always been, the -strong man, sure of himself, and of his purpose.</p> - -<p>A sudden, irresistible thrill of relief ran through the King.</p> - - - -<p>From that moment, he knew, for certain, that the Duke had brought good -news; that the Duke had "cut the rope"—</p> - -<p>The lightning conductor had not failed.</p> - -<p>This man could not fail.</p> - -<p>There was an awkward little silence, as the King approached the -breakfast table.</p> - -<p>It was not that the Duke was at a loss. The Duke could never be at -a loss. The King recognized that. Nor was it that Uncle Bond was -embarrassed. The King was conscious that the little man was watching -him with shining, mischievous eyes. Rather it was that the Duke, and -Uncle Bond, deferred to him, in this silence, tacitly recognizing that -it was for him to indicate how he wished to be met, whether as their -friend, or as—the King.</p> - -<p>Oddly enough, it was Judith who settled the question.</p> - -<p>Slipping into her place behind the coffee pot she turned to the King -with her usual friendly little nod, and smile.</p> - -<p>"You have had a good night? You slept?" she said. "The Imps were very -anxious to wake you as usual. But I thought you would like to sleep on -this morning. No, Bill. This is Uncle Alfred's coffee. That is right, -Button. That is Uncle Alfred's chair."</p> - - - -<p>It was Uncle Alfred, accordingly, who sat down in his usual place at -the breakfast table, with his back to the house, facing the garden.</p> - -<p>His friend, the Duke, sat down opposite to him.</p> - -<p>The Imps scrambled up on to their chairs, on Judith's right and left.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond presided at the head of the table.</p> - -<p>The meal began.</p> - -<p>It was a strange meal, the strangest of the many strange meals which -the King had known. The two parts which he had kept distinct for so -long seemed now, somehow, suddenly to blend, to mingle, without any -difficulty. He was Alfred, the sailor, again. And yet, he was—the -King—</p> - -<p>With the Imps at the table, there was no lack of conversation.</p> - -<p>Once they had finished their porridge, the Imps were free to talk. -They talked. To each other. To themselves. To anybody. To nobody in -particular.</p> - -<p>A lengthy dialogue between Bill, and a wholly invisible small boy -called John, who had, apparently, a regrettable habit of grabbing his -food, seemed to appeal, in particular, to the Duke, who entered into -the play, with an imaginative readiness which the King had somehow -never suspected.</p> - -<p>The birds called cheerily from the garden. The whir of the haycutting -machines was audible once again; but they were not so near the house, -as on the previous day. Clearly the harvest was being gathered in the -more distant fields. The sunshine lay pure gold everywhere—</p> - -<p>The King found himself noticing these things, and registering them in -his mind, as if this was to be the last time that he was to sit there, -in Paradise, enjoying them.</p> - -<p>The last time?</p> - -<p>It might be—</p> - -<p>At last the meal ended.</p> - -<p>First of all, Judith rose to her feet, and drove the Imps, armed with -lumps of sugar, before her, along the verandah, to say good morning to -Diana's foal in the paddock.</p> - -<p>Then, a minute or two later, Uncle Bond slipped away, unostentatiously, -into the house.</p> - -<p>The King, and his friend, the Duke, were thus left alone, at the table, -facing each other.</p> - -<p>A sudden, odd desire to postpone what was coming, whatever was coming, -beset the King. Producing his tobacco pouch and pipe, he filled his -pipe leisurely.</p> - - - -<p>The Duke betrayed no sign of impatience. A certain large patience, -it occurred to the King, was, perhaps, the Duke's most pronounced -characteristic.</p> - -<p>The King lit his pipe.</p> - -<p>Then he looked at the Duke.</p> - -<p>The Duke smiled.</p> - -<p>"Your little holiday is over. Your short leave of absence is at an end, -sir," he said. "I told you, you may remember, sir, that it would only -be a short leave of absence."</p> - -<p>"You have come—for me?" the King asked.</p> - -<p>"Yes."</p> - -<p>"I am ready to go with you—back to duty," the King said slowly. "There -is nothing, I think, to keep me here."</p> - -<p>Then he stood up, abruptly.</p> - -<p>"But we can't talk here," he exclaimed. "Shall we walk?"</p> - -<p>The Duke stood up in turn.</p> - -<p>Together, they stepped down from the verandah.</p> - -<p>The King led the way on to the lawn.</p> - -<p>At the moment, his desire for movement was paramount.</p> - -<p>They crossed to the far end of the lawn, and turned, in silence. Then -the King took the Duke's arm.</p> - - - -<p>"I am ready to hear what you have to say," he said.</p> - -<p>The Duke shortened his long stride, and fell into step with the King.</p> - -<p>"I am here to ask you to return to the palace, sir," he said. "The -crisis is over. The strike has failed. The success of the protective -measures which we judged necessary has been overwhelming. Within an -hour of the declaration of Martial Law and the operation of the 'Gamma' -scheme, all the revolutionary leaders of the strike conspiracy were in -custody. They are now at sea, on board the <i>Iron Duke</i>. I could not -resist that little pleasantry. The <i>Iron Duke</i> sailed under sealed -orders—for Bermuda, sir. The strike leaders will be interned there.</p> - -<p>"The police have carried out their orders throughout with a skill, and -a discretion, worthy of the highest praise. The military have been -welcomed, with open arms everywhere. So far as we are aware, up to the -present, law and order have been maintained with hardly a casualty. -It has, in fact, been not so much a battle of the police and of the -military, as of propaganda, sir. Our control of communications has been -the foundation of our success. From the first, by a series of official -bulletins, we have been able to put the facts of the situation before -the whole nation, with a minimum of delay.</p> - -<p>"There can no longer be any doubt, sir, that we were correct in our -assumption that the great majority of trades unionists, up and down -the country, had been deceived into the belief that the strike had -been called for purely industrial reasons. Once we had succeeded in -convincing them, by our bulletins, that they had been betrayed into -the hands of a little group of foreign, revolutionary extremists, the -strike was doomed. The anger of the deceived trades unionists has, -ironically enough, been one of our few embarrassments. In many parts -of the country, the military have had to protect the local trades -union leaders, many of whom appear to have been as grossly deceived as -anybody else, from the loyal fury of their followers.</p> - -<p>"Mark that word loyal, sir! A great outburst of loyalty to you -personally, sir, has been the outcome of the crisis. That you should -have been subjected to such a crisis, before you had been given any -opportunity to show your worth, has outraged the whole nation's sense -of fair play. From all sections of the community, both here at home, -and in the Dominions, messages of the most fervent loyalty have been -pouring into Downing Street, during the last twenty-four hours. At the -moment, you are the most popular man in the Empire, sir. The fact that, -as soon as I had assured you that law and order would be maintained, -you left the palace, and withdrew at once into the country, rather -than take any part in the conflict, has greatly strengthened your hold -on the people, sir. You left the palace, and withdrew to an unknown -address, in the country, yesterday, sir, until the will of the people -should be made known. You will return to the palace, today, sir, on the -crest of a wave of enthusiasm, unparalleled, I think, in our history."</p> - -<p>"You want me to return to the palace, with you, at once?" the King -asked.</p> - -<p>"I have no wish to hurry you, sir," the Duke replied. "But the sooner -you return to the palace, and the Royal Standard is run up again on -the palace flagstaff, the sooner will the existing state of a national -emergency be at an end."</p> - -<p>"I will come with you at once," the King said. "But first of all—I -must take leave of my friends."</p> - -<p>His eyes were fixed, as he spoke, on Judith, who had just reappeared, -alone, on the verandah.</p> - -<p>The Duke followed the King's glance. Then he fell back, two or three -paces, and bowed with the hint of formality by which he was in the -habit of suggesting, so subtly, and yet so unmistakably, that he was -dealing with—the King.</p> - -<p>The King moved straight across the lawn to Judith.</p> - -<p>Judith stepped down from the verandah, and came slowly forward towards -him.</p> - -<p>They met on the edge of the lawn.</p> - -<p>"I am going back to town, at once, with the Duke," the King announced. -"The Duke has come to fetch me. The crisis is over. The strike has -failed. But you know that, of course—"</p> - -<p>He paused there, for a moment, suddenly conscious of the utter -ineptitude of what he was saying—</p> - -<p>And then words came to him, fitting words, words to which, up to then, -he had given no thought, but in which all his feelings for, all his -thoughts about, Judith, so long suppressed, seemed, suddenly, to -crystallize, and find inevitable expression—</p> - -<p>"If thanks were necessary between us, I would thank you for all that -you have done for me," he said. "But thanks are not necessary between -us, are they? Where there is—friendship—there is no need for thanks. -You said, yesterday, that you knew that there could be no change in -our friendship, and that you were content that it should be so. You -were right, of course. You are always right. You said what you did -to reassure me, to relieve my anxiety, to remove the uncertainty -about—our position—which was troubling me, although I was hardly -aware that that was my trouble. What you said did reassure me. It did -relieve my anxiety. But now, I want to say something, as plainly as I -can, to you. It seems to me that what I have to say is—due to you—</p> - -<p>"If I were merely Alfred, the sailor, of our friendship, I should stay -here, now, with you. I should stay with you always. I should ask you -to join your life to mine. I should ask you to make—Paradise—for -me, wherever we were. If I were merely Alfred, the sailor, you would -say—yes—gladly—</p> - - - -<p>"But I am not merely Alfred, the sailor. I am—the King. Alfred, the -sailor is—dead. Is it his epitaph that I am speaking now? I—the -King—am going—back to duty. I am going back to try to take hold of my -job—in a new way. I am going back, to try to think—first of England, -and never of myself. I am trying to do that now—</p> - -<p>"But, before I go, I want to make you a promise. I want to—pledge -myself—to you, as far as I can. It will give me—a certain -satisfaction—to bind myself to you, as far as I can.</p> - -<p>"I will never marry—"</p> - -<p>Judith stood, motionless, beside him, while he spoke. Her beautiful -vivid face was pale for once, and her dark eyes were troubled, as if -with painful thought. But she met his glance without flinching, and her -voice, when she spoke, was firm, if low.</p> - -<p>"I think, I hope, you will marry, Alfred," she said. "But I am glad, -and proud, that you have said what you have. It was—like you, to say -it. It is—an acknowledgment—that I shall never forget, as long as I -live—</p> - -<p>"I will give you—a pledge—in return. Whatever happens, you will -always be welcome here. Whatever happens, you will always find the same -welcome here. You will never find—any changes here. I don't think -Alfred, the sailor, is dead. I don't think he will ever die—as long -as you live! For us, here, at any rate, you will always be—our friend -Alfred!"</p> - -<p>Once again, the King was conscious that Judith understood him better -than he understood himself. Once again—was it for the last time?—it -seemed to him that she had explained him to himself. What did all his -talk amount to? An acknowledgment of the right, of the claim, that -Judith had established upon him—that was all.</p> - -<p>That was all—he could offer to her. That was all—she could accept—</p> - -<p>As unaccountably, and as suddenly then as they had come to him, before, -words failed him.</p> - -<p>Abruptly, he turned from Judith, and hurried away from her, round the -side of the house—</p> - -<p>On the verandah, beside the front door, the Duke and Uncle Bond were -standing together deep in talk. Uncle Bond was holding the King's coat, -and cap.</p> - -<p>As the King approached, the Duke shook hands very cordially with Uncle -Bond, and then stepped down from the verandah, and crossed to a large -closed motor car, which was drawn up in the drive near by, with the -uniformed chauffeur standing stiffly to attention at its open door.</p> - -<p>For a moment, the King thought of passing Uncle Bond without speaking. -But that, of course, was impossible. And yet—what could he say?</p> - -<p>He need not have troubled himself.</p> - -<p>Uncle Bond might distrust, but he never had any difficulty in finding -words.</p> - -<p>The little man handed the King his coat, and his cap.</p> - -<p>Then he spoke.</p> - -<p>"This," he said, with a sweeping gesture which seemed to include the -sunlit garden, the wooded landscape beyond, the house, and even Judith -and himself, "has all been a dream, my boy. But it is now high time -that you should awake out of sleep. Your real life is beginning now."</p> - -<p>The King wrung the little man's hand in silence, and then followed the -Duke to the waiting car.</p> - -<p>The Duke was already seated inside the car.</p> - -<p>The King got into the car, and sat down beside him.</p> - -<p>The uniformed chauffeur, whose keen, clean-shaven face was motionless, -impassive, a mask, shut the door, and hurried round to the front of -the car, and started the engine.</p> - -<p>A moment later, the car leapt forward and swept down the drive out -into, and up, the narrow, tree-shadowed lane beyond.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<p class="ph2">CHAPTER XVII</p> - - -<p> <span class="figleft"><img src="images/a.jpg" alt="pic" /></span><span class="uppercase">t</span> the top of the lane, a little group of Army officers in khaki -service dress, who were standing on a strip of grass beside the hedge -on the right, sprang smartly to attention, and saluted, as the car -swept past them.</p> - -<p>Mechanically, the King raised his hand to his cap.</p> - -<p>A moment later, as the car rushed out on to the Great North Road, he -realized, with a start, that this salute, and his acknowledgment of it, -marked, definitely, his return to duty.</p> - -<p>Alfred, the sailor, was indeed dead.</p> - -<p>It was—the King—who had raised his hand to his cap.</p> - -<p>Instinctively, he had resumed his place in the procession.</p> - -<p>It had been just as Judith had said. The shadow thrown by his Royal -rank had been waiting for him there in the lane, behind him—</p> - -<p>"That was battalion headquarters, the Coldstreams, Colonel Varney -Wilson in command," the Duke explained. "It is they who have been -responsible for your safety, during the last twenty-four hours, sir."</p> - -<p>The King nodded; but made no other reply.</p> - -<p>The Duke shot one of his shrewd, penetrating glances at the King. Then -the old statesman leant far back in his corner in the luxuriously -upholstered car. He did not speak again.</p> - -<p>The King was grateful to the Duke for his silence, and for the ready -understanding of his mood which that silence implied.</p> - -<p>"When an action speaks for itself, why use words? They will probably be -the wrong words."</p> - -<p>That was Uncle Bond!</p> - -<p>He was going back to duty. That was quite enough at the moment. He did -not want to talk about it—</p> - -<p>The car rushed on up the broad, empty, sunlit road.</p> - -<p>Although it was still so early in the day, the cattle were already -lying under the green shade of the trees, in the fields. The hedges on -either side of the road were white with the blossoms of the wild rose. -Overhead the sky was a luminous blue, unflecked by cloud—</p> - -<p>This was Paradise that he was rushing through. This was Paradise that -he was leaving. Would he ever return? Perhaps he would. But never with -his old recklessness, never with his old lightness of heart. So much -had happened. He had been through so much. He had changed. There was a -heaviness of thought, a deadness of feeling, within him, now, which he -had never known before. It was as if he had lost something, lost some -part of himself, which he would never be able to recover. Was it his -youth?</p> - -<p>The car swept on, smoothly, inexorably, without a check, at a high -speed—</p> - -<p>Was his real life beginning now? Uncle Bond again! Had he been living -in a dream? Had he not often felt that he was living in a dream? a -wild, grotesque, nightmare dream? But that had always been at the -palace. Here, in Paradise, it had seemed to him that he was in touch -with reality. And now, Paradise itself, and all that had happened -there, seemed a dream. High time to awake out of sleep? He would be -glad to awake. He would be glad to touch the real. But would he ever -awake?</p> - -<p>The rushing, throbbing car, the motionless figure of the Duke at his -side, the broad, winding road, the sunlit, peaceful, countryside, -his own thoughts—all these things were the very stuff of dreams, -fantastic, unbelievable, unreal. His deadness of feeling, his heaviness -of thought, were dream. His lost youth was dream. This silence? No one -ever spoke in dreams—</p> - -<p>At last the throbbing car slowed down suddenly; then stopped.</p> - -<p>The Duke was up, and out of the car, in a moment.</p> - -<p>The King followed the old statesman out on to the road more leisurely.</p> - -<p>An odd, unexpected turn, this, in the dream, but dream, assuredly still -dream—</p> - -<p>It was a vivid little dream scene which followed.</p> - -<p>The car had pulled up at the Paradise-Hades signpost of all places. -That could only have happened in dream—</p> - -<p>A little group of saluting soldiers, and bareheaded civilian officials, -stood under the familiar signpost.</p> - -<p>Half a dozen cars were parked in the side road, behind them.</p> - -<p>In the centre of the main road stood an open state carriage, with a -team of six grey horses, in the charge of postillions and out-riders, -who were wearing the scarlet coats, and white breeches of the Royal -livery.</p> - -<p>A bodyguard of Household Cavalry, whose swords, breastplates and plumed -helmets glittered in the sun, were drawn up near by.</p> - -<p>The King turned to the Duke.</p> - -<p>The veteran Prime Minister smiled.</p> - -<p>"This is where you begin your triumphant return to your capital, sir," -he said. "A great welcome awaits you, between here and the palace. The -Cabinet were making the necessary arrangements when I left town this -morning. You will permit me to follow you to the carriage, sir?"</p> - -<p>People did speak in dreams, then—sometimes—</p> - -<p>Mechanically, the King moved slowly along the sunlit road, towards the -carriage, followed by the Duke at a distance of some half dozen paces.</p> - -<p>An extraordinary dream this, amazingly vivid and minute in its detail; -but dream, certainly dream. If only he could awake! Where would he -awake? In the palace? In Paradise? He must awake soon—</p> - -<p>The King got into the state carriage, and sat down.</p> - -<p>The scarlet coated footman, who had held open the carriage door, was -about to shut it again—when the King missed the Duke from his side—</p> - -<p>A terrifying thrill of loneliness, a horror of his sudden isolation, -ran through the King.</p> - -<p>He turned hastily.</p> - -<p>The Duke was standing, drawn up to his full height, with bared head, a -magnificent, a real, a vital figure, in this sunlit world of phantom -shadows, some yards away from the carriage.</p> - -<p>The King beckoned to him desperately.</p> - -<p>The Duke was at his side in a moment.</p> - -<p>"You must not leave me. You must come with me. I cannot face -this—nightmare—alone," the King said in an urgent whisper. "I -shall—lose my reason—if you leave me. I am not sure now, at this -moment, whether I am asleep or awake. Do people talk in dreams? You -seem real. All the rest, everything else is—the stuff of dreams. You -cannot leave me."</p> - -<p>The Duke waved the scarlet coated footman to one side, and got into the -carriage, and sat down beside the King. His mere physical presence, -his vitality, his energy, at once steadied the King. For one terrible -moment, it had seemed to him that he was falling through infinite -space—</p> - -<p>A couple of the cars parked in the side road, beyond the signpost, shot -forward, and swept on ahead up the main road.</p> - -<p>A momentary bustle, a general movement, at the cross road, followed.</p> - -<p>A curt word of command rang out, and the Household Cavalry wheeled, -with the precision of clockwork, into position, in front of, and -behind, the state carriage.</p> - -<p>The scarlet coated footmen sprang up on to their stand, at the back -of the carriage. The out-riders swung clear into their places. The -postillions whipped up their horses—</p> - -<p>The carriage moved forward.</p> - -<p>As the carriage moved forward, the Duke dropped his left hand on to the -seat, between the King and himself.</p> - -<p>"Take my hand. Grip it, sir!" he said. "I am real! Do not hesitate, -sir. We are quite unobserved. A time comes in most men's lives when -they need—the grip of the hand of a friend. I am an old man, sir; -old enough to be your father. When you take my hand, it is as if you -reached out and gripped your father's hand—</p> - - - -<p>"I would have spared you all this, I would have spared you the ordeal -of the wild enthusiasm which awaits you, a little further on, if it -had been possible, sir. But it was not possible. I realized the risks -involved—all the risks, and they are considerable. I counted the -cost—to you. But the end to be attained far outweighs the price to -be paid. The spectacular, the triumphant, return to the palace, which -you are just beginning, sir, will do more to consolidate your hold on -the people than anything else could have done. The psychology of the -mob is, and must always remain, an incalculable force; but, with a -little skill, with a little courage, with a little patience, it can be -controlled, it can be used."</p> - -<p>The King hardly heard what the Duke said. But the grip of the old man's -hand on his was as a rock to cling to. This was what he had wanted; -something tangible, actual, real to hold on to, in this dream world of -sunlit phantoms which enveloped him. He was no longer alone. With the -Duke like this at his side, he could face whatever twists and turns -their dream might take. It was <i>their</i> dream, now—</p> - -<p>The carriage moved slowly forward, but, slowly as it moved, it soon -entered—the outskirts of Hades—</p> - -<p>In the outer suburbs, all the scattered, decorous, red-tiled villas -were gay with flags, gayer than they had been in that other life, ages -ago, on the Coronation Day. At various points on the road now stood -little groups of people, the vanguard of the thousand, flushed, curious -faces, the thousand eyes—</p> - -<p>With these people, the cheering began, the waving of flags, the wild -frenzy.</p> - -<p>The King felt the Duke's hand tighten on his—</p> - -<p>The crowd thickened. The little groups became two continuous lines -of people, on either side of the road, people closely packed in deep -ranks, behind cordons of policemen.</p> - -<p>The cheering grew in volume, took on a deeper note, became a continuous -roar—</p> - -<p>At first, the King smiled, and bowed, mechanically, to the left, and to -the right, as he sat in the carriage.</p> - -<p>Soon he found himself standing up, bareheaded, in the carriage, so that -all the people could see him.</p> - -<p>The Duke, who had sunk far back into the carriage, supported him from -behind against his knees.</p> - - - -<p>Yes. The Duke was there—</p> - -<p>Always the crowd grew, and the cheering increased in volume.</p> - -<p>In the inner suburbs, the flags were thicker than ever. Every window -was open, and full of flushed, excited, smiling faces. Many of the -roofs of the shops and houses were black with people. Down below, in -the road, as the carriage moved slowly forward, the crowd swayed to -and fro, in a frenzy of enthusiasm. Flowers fell, thick and fast, in -a multi-coloured rain, in front of the carriage. Here and there, at -conspicuous street corners, men in working dress tore, or trampled -upon, or burnt, the Red Flag of the revolutionary—</p> - -<p>It was a universal outpouring of pent-up feeling, a delirium of -enthusiasm, without parallel—</p> - -<p>The King himself could not remain, for long, unaffected. In spite -of himself, in spite of his determination not to be deceived by the -chimeras of this fevered, sunlit, daydream, he was caught up on, he -was thrilled by, the wild enthusiasm which surged about him. His pulse -quickened. He trembled where he stood in the carriage—</p> - -<p>And then, suddenly, a strange thing happened to him.</p> - - - -<p>It was as if scales fell from his eyes, and he could see. It was as -if some weight that had been pressing upon his brain was lifted, and -he could think clearly, sanely. He had been not far from the verge of -madness. Now he was himself again—</p> - -<p>This was no dream. These people at whom he was smiling, these people to -whom he was bowing, mechanically, right and left, were actual, real. -This roar of cheers meant something. It rang true. It was genuine. It -was sincere. These cheers, repeated, over and over again, never ending, -had a new, deep, unmistakable personal note, which he had never heard -before. This was no half-hearted, perfunctory enthusiasm. These people -were glad to see him. They were cheering—him. And they meant it! They -were—his people. And he was—their King—</p> - -<p>A thrill of triumph, an exultation which shook him, from head to foot, -as he stood in the carriage, ran through the King.</p> - -<p>And then it left him, and, in its place, came a sickening chill.</p> - -<p>But these people, his people, did not know what had happened, what he -had done, how lightly he had held them. If they knew the true, the -inner, history of the last twenty-four hours, would they cheer him -like this?</p> - -<p>All his former impatience with, his contempt for, himself, at that -moment, returned to the King.</p> - -<p>What right had he to be standing there, smiling and bowing in -acknowledgment of this wild, this fervent, enthusiasm? He had done -nothing to earn it. He had forfeited all right to it—</p> - -<p>It was the old statesman behind him, sitting far back in the carriage, -who ought to be standing there, in his place—in the place of -honour—in the forefront of—this procession—</p> - -<p>Swinging round in the carriage, the King beckoned, impetuously, to the -Duke, to stand up beside him.</p> - -<p>For a moment, the veteran Prime Minister hesitated.</p> - -<p>Then he stood up beside the King, in the carriage, towering head and -shoulders above him.</p> - -<p>The King took the Duke's arm.</p> - -<p>The cheering redoubled—</p> - -<p>And so, with the Duke in as prominent a place as the King could give -him, as prominent a place as his own, the carriage moved on, through -the dust and the clamour, and the wild cheering, into the heart of the -town—</p> - - - -<p>By this time, the heat, the glitter and the glare, and the frenzied -enthusiasm which surged all about him, had begun to tell upon the King. -The physical strain of it all became almost unendurable, deadening the -impressions which for some few minutes had been so vivid, so clear. -The thousand, flushed, smiling faces, the thousand eyes troubled -him no more. The crowd became a mere blurred, dark, clamorous mass, -swaying to and fro, on either side of him. Only the Duke remained -distinct, individual, standing bolt upright beside him in the carriage, -impassive, immovable, a rock to lean upon, physically, and morally, as -he smiled and bowed, this way and that, with unseeing eyes—</p> - -<p>How long the torture of this later stage of their journey lasted, the -King never knew. It had become torture now. All sense of time, and -distance, and place left him. He had no clear idea of the route which -the carriage followed. His body ached from head to foot. The roaring -of the crowd was a mere whisper to the roaring within his own ears. He -leant more and more heavily upon the Duke—</p> - -<p>At last, at the end of an eternity of effort, an eternity of strained -endurance, the carriage swung through Trafalgar Square, and so passed, -under the lavishly decorated Admiralty Arch, into the Mall.</p> - -<p>The white front of the palace, at the far end of the Mall, was now in -sight.</p> - -<p>This sudden, abrupt glimpse of the palace, and the promise of ultimate -release and rest it afforded, served to arouse the King, and revived -his interest, momentarily, in his immediate surroundings.</p> - -<p>In the Mall, the Coronation flags still hung, flaunting and gay, in the -sunlight. On either side of the road, the stands from which the guests -of the Government had viewed the Coronation procession were once again -crowded with people, whose enthusiasm was as wild, and whose cheering -was as loud, as the carriage moved slowly past them, as that at any -other point along the whole route.</p> - -<p>One detail in the riot of colour, and the tumult, about him, caught the -King's attention.</p> - -<p>The road was no longer lined by the police, and the military. In their -place stood men in every variety of civilian dress, alike alone in -this, that every one of them was wearing war medals proudly displayed, -in the majority of cases on very threadbare coats.</p> - -<p>The King turned abruptly to the Duke.</p> - - -<p>"Who are these men with medals?" he asked.</p> - -<p>"The Legion of Veterans, sir," the Duke replied. "Their old -Commander-in-Chief raised his hand, and thousands of them fell in, -at once, all over the country. They reinforced the police and the -military. There was no need for us to enrol special constables. The -Field Marshal asked that they might be given some post of honour today -in recognition of their services. It was decided that they should line -the Mall here, and provide an auxiliary guard at the palace."</p> - -<p>And so, guarded now by men whose loyalty had been tried and tested -on a dozen battlefields, the carriage passed up the Mall, and swung, -at last, through the great central, wrought iron gates, into the -quadrangle, in front of the palace—</p> - -<p>The Duke was down, and out of the carriage, in a moment.</p> - -<p>The King stepped out of the carriage, after him.</p> - -<p>The Duke fell back, half a dozen paces behind the King, and a little to -one side—</p> - -<p>A massed band of the Guards, drawn up in the centre of the quadrangle -began to play the National Anthem.</p> - - - -<p>High up, on the flagstaff above the palace roof, the Royal Standard -rose, and, caught by the wind, shook out, at once, every inch of its -silken folds.</p> - -<p>Above the flagstaff a score, or more, of decorated aeroplanes swerved, -and dived, firing red, white, and blue rockets, a signal seen all over -London.</p> - -<p>The bells of Westminster rang out joyously, followed by the bells of -all the city churches.</p> - -<p>From the Green Park, on the right, came the sudden thunder of the guns -of a Royal salute.</p> - -<p>But louder than the guns, drowning their thunder, the joyous music of -the bells, and the music of the band, rose the cheers of the people, -near and far, a deep, rhythmical, continuous roar—</p> - -<p>For a moment or two, the King remained motionless, rigid, in -acknowledgment of the salute.</p> - -<p>Then he turned sharply to his right, and moved across the quadrangle, -followed by the Duke at a distance of some paces, to the main entrance -door of the palace.</p> - -<p>On either side of the palace steps, within the doorway, and in the -hall beyond, were ranged Cabinet Ministers, military and naval -representatives, and high officials of the Court, and the household -staff.</p> - -<p>The King passed them by only vaguely conscious of their presence, and -made straight for the great central, main staircase in the palace.</p> - -<p>He knew, now, by instinct, rather than by conscious thought, what he -had to do.</p> - -<p>His concern was with the immense crowd round the palace, whose wild -cheering he could still hear, even here as he ascended the staircase.</p> - -<p>He must show himself to the people—</p> - -<p>At the head of the staircase, followed more closely now by the Duke, -the King turned into the little withdrawing room, from which the huge -windows, above the main entrance of the palace, opened.</p> - -<p>The windows had been flung wide open.</p> - -<p>The King crossed the room, and stepped through the windows out on to -the stone balcony, above the main entrance.</p> - -<p>A great roar of cheers, a wild waving of flags and hands, from which he -all but recoiled, greeted his appearance.</p> - -<p>The Duke halted, behind him, out of sight, just inside the windows—</p> - -<p>For the next twenty or thirty minutes, save for brief rests in a chair, -placed in readiness for him in the little withdrawing room behind -him, the King was out on the balcony, bareheaded, in the blazing noon -sunshine, smiling and bowing in acknowledgment of the wild enthusiasm -of the crowd.</p> - -<p>The people were insatiable.</p> - -<p>Over and over again, when he sought to prolong his all too short rests -in the little room behind him, he was compelled to return to the -balcony, in response to the insistent, the tumultuous demands of the -crowd.</p> - -<p>Once or twice, he made the Duke appear on the balcony, at his side. But -the people clearly preferred his solitary appearances—</p> - -<p>The little room behind him gradually filled. A number of the more -important Court officials, and certain privileged members of the -household staff, gathered there, and stood in little groups, well back -from the windows.</p> - -<p>Once, as he threw himself into his chair, a tall, distinguished -looking, grey-haired man, whom he recognized dully as his physician, -detached himself from one of these little groups, approached him, -held his pulse for a moment, and then, without speaking, handed him a -glassful of some colourless stimulant which he drank, although it made -no impression whatever on his palate.</p> - - - -<p>Later, back in the glaring sunlight on the balcony once again, he was -conscious of the help of the physician's draught. His senses were -quickened. He felt less fatigued. But he knew, as the roar of the -seething crowd round the palace came up to him once more, that this -would have to be one of the last of his appearances. For a little -longer, he could hold out, using the factitious energy with which the -stimulant had temporarily endowed him. Then must come collapse—</p> - -<p>At that moment, there was a sudden movement down below in the -quadrangle.</p> - -<p>A man, who seemed to dart out from amongst a little knot of men in -civilian dress, on the left, just inside the quadrangle railings, a -man on whose breast war medals glittered in the sun, dashed across the -quadrangle, towards the main entrance of the palace.</p> - -<p>The King watched him idly, curiously—</p> - -<p>Suddenly, the man's right arm swung up, once, twice—</p> - -<p>Then the King felt himself caught up, violently, from behind.</p> - -<p>Flung, bodily, back from the balcony, through the huge open windows, he -fell, heavily, on the floor of the little room within.</p> - -<p>The windows were blocked now by a familiar tall figure, by a pair of -familiar, broad shoulders—</p> - -<p>A moment later there were two, short, sharp explosions. Bombs. Then a -great clatter of falling glass—</p> - -<p>The King was up on his feet, in a moment.</p> - -<p>A great cry of horror went up from the immense crowd round the palace.</p> - -<p>The King took a step forward.</p> - -<p>Immediately half a dozen strong hands were laid upon him to hold him -back.</p> - -<p>There, on the balcony, immediately in front of him, in the litter of -broken glass from the huge windows, lay the Duke, motionless, at full -length, bleeding from a dozen jagged wounds.</p> - -<p>A madness, a fury, which culminated in a passionate resentment of the -hands that were holding him back, took possession of the King.</p> - -<p>Hardly knowing what he did, he struck out, right and left, savagely, -viciously, with all his force.</p> - -<p>In a moment he was free—</p> - -<p>He stepped out on to the balcony.</p> - -<p>Led by the tall, grey-haired physician, four or five of the Court -officials followed him, hard on his heels, picked up the Duke, and -carried him back into the safety of the little room within—</p> - -<p>Down below in the quadrangle, another limp, huddled figure was being -borne, hurriedly, and unceremoniously by red-coated soldiers, whose -fixed bayonets caught the sun, in the direction of the guardroom, on -the right. There was no life in that figure—</p> - -<p>Beyond the palace railings, the maddened, infuriated crowd swayed -to and fro in great billows of pent-up fury, an ocean of clamorous, -tumultuous passion, striving to break its bounds, to the accompaniment -of animal cries of anger, and the confused shouting of a thousand -voices.</p> - -<p>The King took it all in at a glance. A sudden, strange calm, a sure, -quiet confidence were with him now.</p> - -<p>The anger of the crowd was hideous, menacing. The line of the military, -and the police, between the crowd and the palace tossed up and down, -like a line of corks on a wild, tempestuous sea. At any moment, that -line might break, and the infuriated mob would be let loose, with its -madness, its lust for blood, its wild shouting for lynch law.</p> - -<p>Anything might happen, at any moment, unless something was done, and -done quickly.</p> - -<p>And he was the man who must take action—</p> - -<p>Without haste, surely, and skilfully, the King climbed on to the stone -parapet of the balcony.</p> - -<p>Then he drew himself up to his full height, and held up his hand—</p> - -<p>He had no fear. He knew no doubt. He had no anxiety.</p> - -<p>He knew what he had to do.</p> - -<p>This was his moment.</p> - -<p>He had found himself.</p> - -<p>Never again, it seemed to him, at the moment, would he know doubt, -anxiety or fear—</p> - -<p>For some time, the wild frenzy of the crowd, down below, beyond the -palace railings continued unabated. Then some of the people caught -sight of the bareheaded, slim, incredibly boyish figure, in the -inconspicuous grey lounge suit, standing on his precarious, windswept -perch, on the parapet of the balcony. Then others saw him. Slowly, the -surge of the crowd slackened. Slowly, the pandemonium died down. At -last, the tumult and the uproar gave place to a universal, joyous cry—</p> - -<p>"The King! The King!"</p> - -<p>Then a great silence fell.</p> - -<p>The King dropped his hand to his side, and spoke. His voice rang out -loud and clear, the voice of a sailor, trained to pitch his voice, -instinctively, to carry as far as possible in the open air.</p> - -<p>"My people"—the words rose simply and naturally to his lips, thrilling -him as he used them—"this was to have been a day of great national -rejoicing. It has been turned, in a moment, into a day of great -national mourning. I am unhurt, untouched. But a greater man than I, -the Duke of Northborough, lies dying in the room behind me. He gave his -life for mine." His voice shook a little. "From this moment, I hold my -life, a sacred trust, at his hands.</p> - -<p>"I will say nothing, now, of the madman, whose madness has been used -as the instrument to strike down an old man, whose long and noble life -has been devoted wholly to the best interests of our country. Death has -already closed that madman's account. Nor will I speak, now, of the -men, whose wild and reckless talk makes such madness possible. Such men -turn, naturally, to assassination and murder, in defeat.</p> - -<p>"I ask you, now, not to disturb the last moments of the great man, who -has just crowned his long and noble life with the 'greater love,' -before which we all bare and bow our heads, by any retaliation, by any -outburst, by any demonstration, of the wilder passions against which -he always set his face like flint. I ask you, now, to disperse, as -quietly, and as quickly, as you can, and return to your own homes, the -homes which the great man we mourn, within the last twenty-four hours, -has guarded from the anarchy of revolution, and maintained in peace.</p> - -<p>"I know I shall not ask in vain."</p> - -<p>A low murmur rose from the crowd, while the King spoke. The people, on -the edge of the crowd nearest to the palace, repeated what he said, -to those behind them. They repeated it again. And so, in this almost -miraculous way, something of what he said reached to the furthest -limits of the immense crowd, and even spread beyond, through the -thronged streets of the city.</p> - -<p>There was a tense, breathless pause, when the King had finished -speaking—</p> - -<p>Then the bandmaster, down below in the palace quadrangle, had an -inspiration.</p> - -<p>He raised his baton.</p> - -<p>A moment later the massed band of the Guards began to play "God Save -the King."</p> - -<p>For a time, the huge crowd still hesitated. Then some one began to -sing. Next moment the whole crowd was singing, with a deep volume of -sound, like the sound of many waters—</p> - -<p>"Long to reign over us:</p> - -<p>"God save the King"—</p> - -<p>Over and over again, the band played the national melody. Over and over -again, the crowd sang the familiar words, finding in them, at last, an -outlet for all their pent-up passions—</p> - -<p>And then, suddenly, still singing with undiminished fervour, slowly, -and quietly, in marvellous order, as if they had been soldiers on -parade, the people began to move away.</p> - -<p>The King climbed down from his perilous, windswept perch on the -parapet, on to the balcony again.</p> - -<p>Then he turned, and passed through the shattered windows into the -little room behind him—</p> - -<p>They had laid the Duke on the floor of the room. The tall, grey-haired -physician stood at the dying statesman's head. All that medical skill -could do to ease his passing had been done. Already he was far beyond -the reach of any human aid.</p> - -<p>The brilliant summer sunshine shone full on the familiar, formidable, -massive features, deathly white, now.</p> - -<p>The eyes were closed.</p> - -<p>The King knelt down at the old statesman's side.</p> - -<p>Some obscure instinct prompted him to take the old man's hand—the -hand which had done so much for him, the hand which had never failed -him,—the hand which had saved him, from himself—</p> - -<p>The Duke responded to his touch. Feebly he returned his pressure.</p> - -<p>Then, slowly, he opened his eyes, luminous and clear even in death.</p> - -<p>He recognized the King.</p> - -<p>Faintly he smiled.</p> - -<p>Then his lips moved as if in speech.</p> - -<p>The King bent down over him.</p> - -<p>"God—save—the King," the Duke muttered.</p> - -<p>No doubt, the singing of the crowd outside the palace had reached the -dying man's ears—</p> - -<p>The King did not speak. It seemed to him that there was no need for -words. He felt that the Duke knew all his thoughts. He knew that the -Duke was glad to have him, now, at the last, at his side.</p> - - - -<p>It was a strange moment of deep, and intimate communion between them—</p> - -<p>Strangest of all, there was no sadness in it, now, for the King.</p> - -<p>This man had done his work. This man had rounded off his life's work, -with a completeness, which it is given to few men to achieve.</p> - -<p>The lightning conductor had taken the full shock of the lightning -flash, and then fallen.</p> - -<p>For the future, he—the King—would be alone.</p> - -<p>But that was a small matter, now—</p> - -<p>In the presence of this great man's triumphant self-sacrifice, any -thought of self seemed irreverence—</p> - -<p>Some minutes passed.</p> - -<p>Then the Duke's lips moved again—</p> - -<p>"We shall not all sleep—but we shall all be changed—in a moment, in -the twinkling of an eye—for the trumpet shall sound—and we shall be -changed—"</p> - -<p>The King bowed his head—</p> - -<p>For this man, surely, all the trumpets would sound on the other side. -For this man—they would crowd the battlements of Heaven to see him -enter—</p> - - - -<p>A little later, the physician touched the King on the shoulder.</p> - -<p>The King stood up.</p> - -<p>The physician bent down, and straightened the Duke's arms.</p> - -<p>Then he turned, and faced the King.</p> - -<p>"It is finished, sir," he said.</p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE KING WHO WENT ON STRIKE ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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