by J. C. Snaith
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE WRITING ON THE WALL
The morning which followed these tempered gaieties was cold and bright.The King borrowed my nicest gun and, accompanied by his son-in-law, ourretainer Andrew, and an old field spaniel who answered to the name ofGyp, proceeded to put up a hare or two in the stubble. My physicalstate precluded my raising a gun to my shoulder, but I deemed it wiseto be of the party. Accidents have been known to occur, and--butperhaps it is well not to pursue this vein of speculation.
Destiny is a vague term which provides the veil of decency for manysecrets, and firearms have often been the chosen instruments of itsdecrees. Doubtless I was growing too imaginative. Certainly theadventures I had undergone during the past few weeks had left a markupon my nerves, but when I recalled our vigil, which was still so freshin my thoughts as to seem strange and terrible, I could not view theprospect of Ferdinand the Twelfth and his dutiful son-in-law sharingthe innocent pastime of a little rough shooting without a secret fear.
I am glad to say that the course of the morning's sport lent no colourto this apprehension. The King was an excellent shot, and even astrange gun made little difference to his prowess. He displayed bothscience and accuracy. But to see him standing cheek by jowl with Fitz,each with a cocked weapon in his hand; to watch them scramble throughgaps and over stiles and five-barred gates, for in spite of his yearsand his physique Ferdinand was a wonderfully active man who took analmost boyish pride in his bodily condition, was to feel that the lifeof either was hanging by a thread.
However, as I have said, all this was the unworthy fruit of anoverwrought imagination. The sportsmen returned to luncheon safe andsound, with a modest bag of the fowls of the air and the beasts of thefield.
In the afternoon, at the instance of Mrs. Arbuthnot, whose happythought it was, we all motored over to inspect the Castle. The Familywas understood to be in Egypt, and the ducal stronghold is the showplace of the district.
The rumour as to the Family's whereabouts proved to be correct, and aprofitable hour was spent in the casual study of magnificence. TheKing took a genuine interest in all that he saw. In particular he wascharmed with the view from the terrace, which is modelled uponVersailles, with a long and far-spreading vista of oaks and beeches anda herd of deer in the foreground.
He expressed a keen appreciation of the Duke's collection of works ofart; yet he permitted himself to wonder that a private individualshould have such pictures, such tapestries, such furniture, suchporcelain, such armour, such metal work, such carpets, such paintedceilings and heaven knows what besides.
"It is pretty well for a subject," said Ferdinand the Twelfth.
"His Grace of Dumbarton, sir," said I, "owns four other places in theseislands on a similar scale of magnificence; he owns a million and aquarter acres, of which a portion is in great centres of industry, hisincome is rather more than L500,000 a year, and he is accustomed in hispublic utterances to describe himself as a member of a poor butdeserving class."
Ferdinand the Twelfth pondered a moment with an amused yet wary smile.
"If he lived in Illyria," he said, "I think his grace would have to becontent with less, eh, Schalk?"
"It would not surprise me, sir," said the Chancellor, with anexpressive shrug. "I confess it does not appear economically sound fora State to allow its private citizens to accumulate such quantities oftreasure. Whatever the measure of their public capacity I fail to seehow they can rise to their responsibilities."
"But if," said I, "the State mulcts his grace of a farthing's-worth, itis immediately denounced as a robber. Property is the most sacredthing we know in this country."
"His grace came by all this honestly, I hope?" said the King, with anamused air.
"He came by it under forms of law, certainly."
"Which he himself did not make, I hope!" said the King, laughing.
"No, sir; his grandfather and the nominees of his grandfather and so onmanaged that little business. Quite a constitutional proceeding, ofcourse."
"I appreciate that," said Ferdinand the Twelfth, with his subtle smile."The British Constitution has long been the envy of nations. I supposeour friend the Duke is a man of great public spirit who has renderedsignal service to the British Empire."
"On the contrary, he prefers the pleasant obscurity of the Englishgentleman."
"His forbears, then?"
"The late Duke was an imbecile; and I am afraid if anyone took thetrouble to search the records of the family since it came to thiscountry from Germany about the year 1700, there is only one episodeinvolving signal public spirit recorded in its archives."
"A glorious victory, a Blenheim, a Waterloo, I presume?" said Ferdinandthe Twelfth.
"No, sir; peace has her victories also. This distinguished family haswon the Derby Horse Race on two occasions."
"A wonderful people, Schalk!" said the King, laughing.
Her Royal Highness clapped her hands impulsively in the face of Mrs.Arbuthnot.
"There, Irene, what did I say!" she exclaimed. "Perrault!--whereveryou go in this little island you find Perrault. My father has nowfound Perrault. Even Schalk has found him."
"Sonia dear, you are too funny!" said Mrs. Arbuthnot, 'with aplaintively childlike air of tacit condescension.
The King informed his grace's steward, a gentleman with a bald head anda very conventional aspect, who awaited us in the entrance hall to seeus safely off the premises, that he would like to write his name in thevisitors' book. Unaware of the identity of Ferdinand the Twelfth andby no means approving of the general trend of our conversation, thesteward said with cold politeness that he feared the visitors' book wasonly used by his grace's guests.
The King took up a piece of red pencil that lay on a writing-table.
"We will write on the wall," he said, blandly.
The steward was shocked and scandalised, but no heed was paid to hisprotests. The King wrote his name on the wall in bold and firm Englishcharacters, immediately beneath Lely's portrait of the founder of thefamily.
This accomplished, the King gave the pencil to his daughter, whoinscribed her name also. She in turn gave it to the Chancellor, whofollowed her example. He then gave the pencil to Mrs. Arbuthnot.
That lady coloured with embarrassment, but at the King's express desireshe wrote her name too; and when it came to the turn of theConservative member for that part of the county he had no alternativebut to obey the royal command.
Our names duly appeared on the wall in the following order:
_Ferdinand Rex Sonia Von Schalk Irene Arbuthnot Nevil Fitzwaren Odo Arbuthnot, M.P._
Upon the completion of this act of vandalism, the Victor of Rodovaturned to the steward.
"Haf the goodness to inform his grace," he said, "that the King ofIllyria accepts entire responsibility for the writing on the wall. Itis the writing on the wall for him and for his country."
As we went towards the motor cars which awaited us at a side entrance,we had to pass down a flight of stone steps. In the descent the Kingwas seized with a sudden and momentary faintness. He reeled, and hadit not been for the promptitude of the ever-watchful Chancellor he musthave fallen.
"Dat is the writing on the wall for the people of Illyria," said theVictor of Rodova with humorous stoicism as he recovered himself.