CHAPTER XXXIX
Saxe Leinitzer returned to the morning-room, and taking the key from hispocket unlocked the door. Inside Lucille was pale with fury.
"What! I am a prisoner, then!" she exclaimed. "How dare you lock mein? This is not your house. Let me pass! I am tired of all this stupidespionage."
The Prince stood with his back to the door.
"It is for your own sake, Lucille. The house is watched."
She sank into a low chair, trembling. The Prince had all the appearanceof a man himself seriously disturbed.
"Lucille," he said, "we will do what we can for you. The whole thing ishorribly unfortunate. You must leave England to-night. Muriel will gowith you. Her presence will help to divert suspicion. Once you canreach Paris I can assure you of safety. But in this country I am almostpowerless."
"I must see Victor," she said in a low tone. "I will not go without."
The Prince nodded.
"I have thought of that. There is no reason, Lucille, why he should notbe the one to lead you into safety."
"You mean that?" she cried.
"I mean it," the Prince answered. "After what has happened you are ofcourse of no further use to us. I am inclined to think, too, that wehave been somewhat exacting. I will send a messenger to Souspennier tomeet you at Charing Cross to-night."
She sprang up.
"Let me write it myself."
"Very well," he agreed, with a shrug of the shoulders. "But do notaddress or sign it. There is danger in any communication between you."
She took a sheet of note-paper and hastily wrote a few words.
"I have need of your help. Will you be at Charing Cross at twelveo'clock prepared for a journey.--Lucille."
The Prince took the letter from her and hastily folded it up.
"I will deliver it myself," he announced. "It will perhaps be safest.Until I return, Lucille, do not stir from the house or see any one.Muriel has given the servants orders to admit no one. All your life," headded, after a moment's pause, "you have been a little cruel to me,and this time also. I shall pray that you will relent before our nextmeeting."
She rose to her feet and looked him full in the face. She seemed to befollowing out her own train of thought rather than taking note of hiswords.
"Even now," she said thoughtfully, "I am not sure that I can trust you.I have a good mind to fight or scream my way out of this house, and gomyself to see Victor."
He shrugged his shoulders.
"The fighting or the screaming will not be necessary, dear Countess," hesaid. "The doors are open to you. But it is as clear as day that ifyou go to the hotel or near it you will at once be recognised, andrecognition means arrest. There is a limit beyond which one cannot helpa wilful woman. Take your life in your hands and go your own way, ortrust in us who are doing our best to save you."
"And what of Reginald Brott?" she asked.
"Brott?" the Prince repeated impatiently. "Who cares what becomes ofhim? You have made him seem a fool, but, Lucille, to tell you the truth,I am sorry that we did not leave this country altogether alone. Thereis not the soil for intrigue here, or the possibility. Then, too, thepolice service is too stolid, too inaccessible. And even our friends,for whose aid we are here--well, you heard the Duke. The cast-iron Saxonidiocy of the man. The aristocracy here are what they call bucolic. Itis their own fault. They have intermarried with parvenus and Americansfor generations. They are a race by themselves. We others may shakeourselves free from them. I would work in any country of the globe forthe good of our cause, but never again in England."
Lucille shivered a little.
"I am not in the humour for argument," she declared. "If you would earnmy gratitude take that note to my husband. He is the only man I feelsure of--whom I know can protect me."
The Prince bowed low.
"It is our farewell, Countess," he said.
"I cannot pretend," she answered, "to regret it."
Saxe Leinitzer left the room. There was a peculiar smile upon his lipsas he crossed the hall. Brott was still awaiting for him.
"Mr. Brott," he said, "the Countess is, as I feared, too agitated to seeyou again for the present, or any one else. She sends you, however, thismessage."
He took the folded paper from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to theother man. Brott read it through eagerly. His eyes shone.
"She accepts the situation, then?" he exclaimed.
"Precisely! Will you pardon me, my friend, if I venture upon one otherword. Lucille is not an ordinary woman. She is not in the least like themajority of her sex, especially, I might add, amongst us. The fact thather husband was living would seriously influence her consideration ofany other man--as her lover. The present crisis, however, has changedeverything. I do not think that you will have cause to complain of herlack of gratitude."
Brott walked out into the streets with the half sheet of note-papertwisted up between his fingers. For the first time for months he wasconscious of a distinct and vivid sense of happiness. The terribleperiod of indecision was past. He knew now where he stood. Nor washis immediate departure from England altogether unpleasant to him. Hispolitical career was shattered--friends and enemies were alike cold tohim. Such an act of cowardice as his, such pitiful shrinking back at thelast fateful moment, was inexplicable and revolting. Even Letheringhamwas barely civil. It was certain that his place in the Cabinet would beintolerable. He yearned for escape from it all, and the means of escapewere now at hand. In after years he knew very well that the shadow ofhis broken trust, the torture of his misused opportunities, would standfor ever between him and the light. But at that moment he was ableto clear his mind of all such disquieting thoughts. He had wonLucille--never mind at what cost, at what peril! He had won Lucille!
He was deeply engrossed, and his name was spoken twice in his ear beforehe turned round. A small, somewhat shabby-looking man, with tired eyesand more than a day's growth of beard upon his chin, had accosted him.
"Mr. Brott, sir. A word with you, please."
Brott held out his hand. Nevertheless his tone when he spoke lackedheartiness.
"You, Hedley! Why, what brings you to London?"
The little man did not seem to see the hand. At any rate he made nomotion to take it.
"A few minutes' chat with Mr. Brott. That's what I've come for."
Brott raised his eyebrows, and nodded in somewhat constrained fashion.
"Well," he said, "I am on my way to my rooms. We can talk as we go, ifyou like. I am afraid the good people up in your part of the world arenot too well pleased with me."
The little man smiled rather queerly.
"That is quite true," he answered calmly. "They hate a liar and aturn-coat. So do I!"
Brott stopped short upon the pavement.
"If you are going to talk like that to me, Hedley," he said, "the lessyou have to say the better."
The man nodded.
"Very well," he said. "What I have to say won't take me very long. Butas I've tramped most of the way up here to say it, you'll have to listenhere or somewhere else. I thought you were always one who liked thetruth."
"So I do!" Brott answered. "Go on!"
The man shuffled along by his side. They were an odd-looking pair, forBrott was rather a careful man as regards his toilet, and his companionlooked little better than a tramp.
"All my life," he continued, "I've been called 'Mad Hedley,' or 'Hedley,the mad tailor.' Sometimes one and sometimes the other. It don't matterwhich. There's truth in, it. I am a bit mad. You, Mr. Brott, were oneof those who understood me a little. I have brooded a good deal perhaps,and things have got muddled up in my brain. You know what has been atthe bottom of it all.
"I began making speeches when I was a boy. People laughed at me, butI've set many a one a-thinking. I'm no anarchist, although people callme one. I'll admit that I admire the men who set the French Revolutiongoing. If such a thing happened in this country I'd be one of the firstto join in. But I've never had a taste for
bloodshed. I'd rather thething had been done without. From the first you seemed to be the man whomight have brought it about. We listened to you, we watched your career,and we began to have hopes. Mr. Brott, the bodies and souls of millionsof your fellow-creatures were in the hollow of your hand. It was youwho might have set them free. It was you who might have made this thegreatest, the freest, the happiest country in the world. Not so much forus perhaps as for our children, and our children's children. We didn'texpect a huge social upheaval in a week, or even a decade of years. Butwe did expect to see the first blow struck. Oh, yes, we expected that."
"I have disappointed you, I know, you and many others," Brott saidbitterly. "I wish I could explain. But I can't!"
"Oh, it doesn't matter," the man answered. "You have broken the heartsof thousands of suffering men and women--you who might have led theminto the light, have forged another bolt in the bars which stand betweenthem and liberty. So they must live on in the darkness, dull, dumbcreatures with just spirit enough to spit and curse at the sound of yourname. It was the greatest trust God ever placed in one man's hand--andyou--you abused it. They were afraid of you--the aristocrats, and theybought you. Oh, we are not blind up there--there are newspapers in ourpublic houses, and now and then one can afford a half-penny. We haveread of you at their parties and their dances. Quite one of them youhave become, haven't you? But, Mr. Brott, have you never been afraid?Have you never said to yourself, there is justice in the earth? Supposeit finds me out?"
"Hedley, you are talking rubbish," Brott said. "Up here you would seethings with different eyes. Letheringham is pledged."
"If any man ever earned hell," Hedley continued, "it is you, Brott,you who came to us a deliverer, and turned out to be a lying prophet.'Hell,'" he repeated fiercely, "and may you find it swiftly."
The man's right hand came out of his long pocket. They were in the thickof Piccadilly, but his action was too swift for any interference. Fourreports rang suddenly out, and the muzzle of the revolver was helddeliberately within an inch or so of Brett's heart. And before eventhe nearest of the bystanders could realise what had happened Brott layacross the pavement a dead man, and Hedley was calmly handing over therevolver to a policeman who had sprang across the street.
"Be careful, officer," he said, "there are still two chambers loaded.I will come with you quite quietly. That is Mr. Reginald Brott, theCabinet Minister, and I have killed him."
The Yellow Crayon Page 39