prince carlo’s face was pale and drawn and his eyes gleamed feverishly as he turned from the ghastly sight in front of him and gazed at the rexanians who had thronged upstairs and into the room. their presence was a relief to him at that moment.
posadowski pushed forward through the crowd of silent and awe-stricken men. approaching the prince, he said:
“your royal highness, believe me, we did not know that this man,” pointing to the prostrate form of the suicide, “had left the city.”
prince carlo turned toward the group, whose white faces in the flickering light thrown out by the wind-pestered lamp seemed to haunt the room like ghosts. the youth’s countenance was stern and menacing. he had held up a hand and haughtily enforced silence upon the cowed conspirators.
“you know not, my countrymen,” said prince carlo, in a low, penetrating voice, and speaking in the rexanian tongue, “how deep is the grief that stirs my soul. yonder madman sought my life. his murderous hand was turned against himself. who shall say what power it was that intervened to save me from his wrath? do you call it chance? if such it was, there is no god. but in my heart of hearts i know that in this room we see the impress of a mighty hand.[121] the fiat of the king of kings has been obeyed. you plot to thwart his will. as well attempt to wound the stars with stones! you hold me here a prisoner. you think, blind, feeble children, that you can mould a nation’s destiny, can dictate to the omnipotent the future of a race: look upon the bloody form of that unhappy man and learn the lesson that god reigns. listen! there is a voice that tells me that i must mount my father’s throne. it tells me that in the universal plan that makes for higher things the part that i must take lies far from hence. i am no tyrant: i do not crave the awful power that he who wields a sceptre may usurp. my countrymen, i will be frank with you. to live in peace in this fair land, to lose my name and all the burdens that it bears, to forget that on my shoulders the welfare of a nation rests—ah, this were sweet. but a sterner fate is mine. i must go back to the land we love so well. i must some day take up the weary task that falls from my father’s tired hands. i must sacrifice all things that most men love to the long service of a people not yet fitted for self-government. think you that this is selfishness? i tell you that, if my love of country and of duty were not greater than my love of self, no power on earth could force me back to rexania—to the land that offers me a throne upon which no man can sit to-day in peace. a crown? a crown of thorns awaits me. power? only so long as it is used in the service of god and my people. homage? the only homage that makes glad the heart of kings comes from those who praise the man rather than the monarch.[122] think not, my countrymen, that i am pleading to you for freedom. whether you grant it or withhold it now, it is sure to come. but when i am gone you will reflect that i go not to a bed of roses, but to a couch made of iron, around which mighty shadows lurk. pardon me for so long detaining you, but remember me in the days to come as one who forgives you in your errors, and who bears you no ill-will.”
while the prince had been speaking, two men had joined the group at the doorway, ned strong and norman benedict. they gazed with amazement on the scene before them. pushing his way through the yielding throng, ned strong stood before the prince.
“count szalaki,” he exclaimed, extending his hand, “this is the last place on earth in which i had expected to find you. but, as your host, i give you welcome.”
“mr. strong!” cried prince carlo, in astonishment: “i do not understand. you say i am your guest?”
ned strong smiled grimly as he cast his eyes over the group of startled rexanians.
“i fear,” he sad, sarcastically, “that my welcome cannot include so large a party. i suppose,” he went on, addressing posadowski, who had not slunk back into the throng, “i suppose that rudolph smolenski is responsible for your presence here?”
the arch-conspirator bowed sullenly.
“and who is this man, my guest—count szalaki?” asked strong, sternly.
“he is the crown prince carlo, heir-apparent to the throne of rexania,” answered posadowski, a note of triumph in his voice.
ned strong turned and met the large, sad[123] eyes of the youth who had been relegated in his mind to that terra incognita where frauds and adventurers lurk and plot. the blood rushed to his face as he realized that his recent words of welcome had been tipped with sarcasm wrought by suspicion.
“permit me to explain, mr. strong,” remarked prince carlo, quietly, while norman benedict, glancing excitedly at his watch, pushed forward toward the central group. “these men are dreamers. less mad than yonder suicide, whose death shall serve them for a warning and a sign, they plot to change the laws of god and man. how they learned my secret matters not. all that is essential now is that a power greater than earth holds has rendered vain their plots and schemes and crimes. let them reflect upon the mystery that surrounds the ways of god. they brought me to this house. behold, i find myself the guest of the one man in many millions i have cause to call my friend! one of their brethren breaks through yonder window, bent upon my death. as i stand erect before him, the bullet that was meant for me goes crashing through his brain! oh, blind and foolish children, learn that there are mysteries ye cannot solve. plot no longer to change the fate of the country you have wronged, a country that found you faithless years ago and drove you from her heart. you love rexania? then show your love by leaving to her loyal sons her future and the future of my house. no man can serve two masters. faithful to the land of your adoption, you cannot also be of service to rexania. abandon your plots and stratagems, and abide by the lesson of this night’s work.[124] farewell.—mr. strong, i am at your service.”
prince carlo turned abruptly from his countrymen and placed his hand upon ned strong’s arm. the latter looked about him for norman benedict, but the reporter had disappeared.
“prince carlo,” said ned strong, “i will take you to the lodge, where my sister will be very glad to renew her acquaintance with you.”
“miss strong is here?” exclaimed the prince, eagerly. “indeed, the fates are kind to me to-night.” a smile of delight played over his pale, drawn face.
“will you wait here until i return?” asked ned strong of posadowski. “there are several matters about which i must consult you.” he made a gesture toward a black shadow in a corner near the window.
“i will stay here with two or three of my men,” answered the arch-conspirator deferentially. “we are truly anxious, mr. strong, to save you from all further annoyance.”
as prince carlo and ned strong crossed the lawn and made toward the lodge, they found themselves followed by several rexanians, who clung close to them but maintained a respectful silence. suddenly ned strong turned and faced them.
“what will you have?” he asked, angrily. “is it not enough that you have been kidnappers and housebreakers, without becoming permanent nuisances?”
“pardon us, mr. strong,” answered the gigantic posnovitch, deferentially; “we have no wish to annoy you, but it is fitting that[125] the crown prince of rexania should have a body-guard.”
ned strong placed his hand upon the arm of his royal friend.
“your countrymen, prince carlo,” he murmured, “are strangely inconsistent. they would crucify you at one moment and crown you the next.”
“’tis true, my friend,” returned the prince sadly. “they illustrate the fickleness of the human race both in its dealings with kings and with god. but god reigns, and kings still live.”
at this moment they entered the corridor of the lodge and groped their way toward the room in which kate strong and mrs. brevoort listened apprehensively to the sounds of approaching footsteps.
